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Authors: Gahan Hanmer
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heard. I was supposed to call Albert
your majesty?
I was supposed to call Jenna, the bare-assed horsewoman,
my queen?
Down the other side I just wanted to get it right. I wanted to know how to behave. I didn't want to sound stupid or foolish. In between the one side and the other there was a very uncomfortable place of confusion, reminiscent of the way I felt after my theater was burned; I wanted that feeling to go away. I wanted both feet on the ground again, and I didn't much care which side of a thousand years of history they came down on. So I gave them my best courtly bow and said, "Thank you, my friends. A thousand pardons, my liege."
Jenna laughed. "Well done, Jack. You're a natural."
"Thank you, my lady," I replied in grave tones of deepest respect, meanwhile thinking about how her ladyship looked in the buff. "Your servant, as always."
"Look," said Albert. "We have company."
A child stood staring at us from the edge of the clearing; when we turned to look, he ran off into the woods.
"Boy!" Albert cried. "Come here, boy!"
The little face peeped out from behind a tree.
"Come out now. Don't be frightened."
The boy came out of the woods, walked slowly towards us, and stopped at a very respectful distance. He must have been seven or eight years old, barefoot, and wore only a crude pair of shorts belted with a twist of rope. His eyes were very wide as he stared at us, and at Albert in particular.
"That's a good boy," said Albert. "Now, your name is Warren, is it not?"
"Aaron, your majesty," said the boy, his eyes even wider now.
"Of course," said Albert. "I meant to say Aaron. Your father is Walter the smith."
"Yes, your majesty."
"I know your father, Aaron. He's a good man. Now tell me what you want to be when you grow up."
The boy seemed puzzled at the question. "A smith, your majesty, just like my dad."
"Of course you do. Are you helping your father in his forge?"
"Oh yes, your majesty, almost every day."
"That's a good boy. Now what do you have in your hand?"
"A sling, your majesty," he said, holding out a supple strip of leather that was widest in the middle and tapered at the ends.
"Thank you," said Albert, "but I meant in the other hand."
The boy's hand came slowly from behind his back. "Partridge, your majesty," he said, holding up the bird. The head lolled back and forth.
"Did you kill the bird with your sling?"
"Yes, your majesty."
"Hit it right in the head, did you?"
"No, your majesty. I broke its wing. Then I wrung its neck."
"Are you allowed to hunt birds?"
Again the boy seemed puzzled. "Yes, your majesty."
"Then why did you hide it behind you?"
"Um . . . I . . ."
"Did you think we would take it away from you?"
"Oh no, your majesty, for you have so much!" He was looking at the food we had spread out on our picnic blanket.
"That's a clever boy. Of course we won't. Here's some bread and cheese for you. Now I want you to remember something, my boy. Never hide anything from your king. Do you think you can remember that?"
"Yes, your majesty." I could see that he wanted to start eating the bread and cheese right away, but he hesitated, eyeing Albert.
"Very good, my boy. Now run along and tell your father that the king sends his best wishes." And run he did, eating as he ran.
"That boy," Albert said to me, "was born here. He has never been out of the kingdom, or seen anything except what there is here."
I didn't know what to say. How amazing it was! That barefoot boy had been hunting birds with a sling. Now he would tell people he had seen the king, and that the king had given him bread and cheese. For some reason that amazed and delighted me, and made me forget all about being anxious and disoriented.
After we finished eating, we put saddles on the horses, very beautifully made saddles of an ancient design with a high pommel and cantel.
"Where did these saddles come from, Sire?" It felt odd giving Albert that title, but he was the king, wasn't he?
What made a man a king? He had
your majesty?
I was supposed to call Jenna, the bare-assed horsewoman,
my queen?
Down the other side I just wanted to get it right. I wanted to know how to behave. I didn't want to sound stupid or foolish. In between the one side and the other there was a very uncomfortable place of confusion, reminiscent of the way I felt after my theater was burned; I wanted that feeling to go away. I wanted both feet on the ground again, and I didn't much care which side of a thousand years of history they came down on. So I gave them my best courtly bow and said, "Thank you, my friends. A thousand pardons, my liege."
Jenna laughed. "Well done, Jack. You're a natural."
"Thank you, my lady," I replied in grave tones of deepest respect, meanwhile thinking about how her ladyship looked in the buff. "Your servant, as always."
"Look," said Albert. "We have company."
A child stood staring at us from the edge of the clearing; when we turned to look, he ran off into the woods.
"Boy!" Albert cried. "Come here, boy!"
The little face peeped out from behind a tree.
"Come out now. Don't be frightened."
The boy came out of the woods, walked slowly towards us, and stopped at a very respectful distance. He must have been seven or eight years old, barefoot, and wore only a crude pair of shorts belted with a twist of rope. His eyes were very wide as he stared at us, and at Albert in particular.
"That's a good boy," said Albert. "Now, your name is Warren, is it not?"
"Aaron, your majesty," said the boy, his eyes even wider now.
"Of course," said Albert. "I meant to say Aaron. Your father is Walter the smith."
"Yes, your majesty."
"I know your father, Aaron. He's a good man. Now tell me what you want to be when you grow up."
The boy seemed puzzled at the question. "A smith, your majesty, just like my dad."
"Of course you do. Are you helping your father in his forge?"
"Oh yes, your majesty, almost every day."
"That's a good boy. Now what do you have in your hand?"
"A sling, your majesty," he said, holding out a supple strip of leather that was widest in the middle and tapered at the ends.
"Thank you," said Albert, "but I meant in the other hand."
The boy's hand came slowly from behind his back. "Partridge, your majesty," he said, holding up the bird. The head lolled back and forth.
"Did you kill the bird with your sling?"
"Yes, your majesty."
"Hit it right in the head, did you?"
"No, your majesty. I broke its wing. Then I wrung its neck."
"Are you allowed to hunt birds?"
Again the boy seemed puzzled. "Yes, your majesty."
"Then why did you hide it behind you?"
"Um . . . I . . ."
"Did you think we would take it away from you?"
"Oh no, your majesty, for you have so much!" He was looking at the food we had spread out on our picnic blanket.
"That's a clever boy. Of course we won't. Here's some bread and cheese for you. Now I want you to remember something, my boy. Never hide anything from your king. Do you think you can remember that?"
"Yes, your majesty." I could see that he wanted to start eating the bread and cheese right away, but he hesitated, eyeing Albert.
"Very good, my boy. Now run along and tell your father that the king sends his best wishes." And run he did, eating as he ran.
"That boy," Albert said to me, "was born here. He has never been out of the kingdom, or seen anything except what there is here."
I didn't know what to say. How amazing it was! That barefoot boy had been hunting birds with a sling. Now he would tell people he had seen the king, and that the king had given him bread and cheese. For some reason that amazed and delighted me, and made me forget all about being anxious and disoriented.
After we finished eating, we put saddles on the horses, very beautifully made saddles of an ancient design with a high pommel and cantel.
"Where did these saddles come from, Sire?" It felt odd giving Albert that title, but he was the king, wasn't he?
What made a man a king? He had
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