The Adventures of Charls, the Veretian Cloth Merchant (Captive Prince #3.75)(6)

Only when Lamen judged they were not being followed did they slow and begin to look for a cutting or a gap in the trees where they could stop and camp for the night.

Guilliame said, ‘It’s a pity you didn’t punch him after dinner. We can make a fire, but there’s nothing to eat.’

The Prince held up a parcel wrapped in cloth.

‘The lamb!’ said Alexon, who had leapt down from wagon.

‘I hit an Akielon with it,’ said the Prince, ‘but aside from that I think it’s no more the worse for wear.’

‘We’ll have wine too, if you squeeze out your jacket,’ said Lamen. He held up the brace of rabbits.

‘Quick thinking, Lamen,’ said Alexon, admiringly.

Their six mounted guards settled the horses. Guilliame went in search of firewood. Charls, who had a scrupulous sense of fair trade, consoled himself that they had paid for the lamb and the rabbits had been thrown at him, which might count as a gift. Then he saw the Prince and Lamen, and all thoughts flew from his mind. The Prince was holding one of the rabbits by the ears with an outstretched arm, looking at it.

‘It can’t be that hard,’ the Prince was saying.

Charls saw in horror that he was talking about skinning the rabbit. Charls took Lamen firmly by the arm. ‘Excuse us, Cousin Charls.’ He was steering Lamen to the side of the wagons.

‘Lamen,’ he said, when they were a few steps away. ‘Is the Prince of Vere holding a dead rabbit?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘He is a prince. That is a rabbit. Do you think he has ever skinned a rabbit in his life?’

‘No, but—’

‘No. A Prince’s hands are instruments of refinement. A Prince’s hands are not made to touch a dead rabbit. You have to do it!’

‘But Charls—’

Charls pushed him firmly in the back. ‘Go!’

This heart-stopping breach of etiquette averted, Charls returned to the camp as the soldiers were digging a pit for the fire. He collected blankets for them to sit on, and only when the spit was set up and the fire burning well did he go in search of the rabbits.

Lamen and the Prince were together at the tree edge. The rabbits were on the ground, except for the one that Lamen was holding by the leg, gingerly. The Prince was wiping his eyes, laughing.

‘If we just knew which end to start with,’ Lamen said.

It was suddenly obvious that Lamen had no idea what to do. With a clear moment of insight, Charls saw that Lamen was not a cloth merchant’s assistant. He was the prince’s private companion, and had no real skills whatsoever.

‘Guilliame, please teach Lamen to cook a rabbit,’ said Charls. The throbbing in his temple was threatening to become a headache.

Thankfully, they did not have to squeeze out the Prince’s jacket: they uncovered wine in the wagons, along with tin cups, and it made for a merry party around the campfire. The wine was warming and the meat (Guilliame did a fine job) was well cooked. Alexon, they learned, was the son of a sheep farmer, and he and Charls had an engrossing conversation about the rise in regional wool prices. Charls thought Alexon an upstanding young man, and made a mental note to supply him with a new cloak.

‘Tell me where you each hail from,’ said Alexon.

‘I was born in Varenne,’ said Charls. ‘A rich trading province, with an excellent trade tariff system. I have always found the revenue management very good there.’

‘Arles,’ said the Prince. ‘The viper pit.’

‘Ios.’ Lamen stretched out, looking relaxed, his limbs warm in the firelight. ‘But I was brought to Arles, where we met.’

‘I thought you were Patran,’ said Guilliame.

‘No, I was born in the capital.’

He said no more than that. Charls supposed that he and Guilliame were two of the few who knew the truth of Lamen’s origins—that under that long Veretian sleeve there was a golden cuff, and that Lamen had once been a palace slave. He did not know how Lamen had come by his freedom, though he could see how Lamen had caught the Prince’s eye. Lamen was a young man in peak physical condition, good natured and loyal. Any unmarried nobleman would notice him.

‘And how is it you now fight for Veretians?’ said Alexon.

Charls found himself curious to hear his answer, but Lamen said only, ‘I came to know one of them.’

The firelight seemed to change the mood, warming it. The wagons were visible in the flame glow, a rosy orange.

‘Around here, people don’t think much of the new alliance,’ said Alexon.

‘Damianos is a great king,’ said Charls. ‘You should trust in him, as we trust in our Prince.’

‘Do you think they’re doing it?’ said Alexon.

Charls coughed on his wine. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘The King and Prince Laurent. Do you think they’re doing it?’

‘Well, it’s not for me to say.’ Charls avoided looked at the Prince.

‘I think they are,’ volunteered Guilliame. ‘Charls met the Prince of Vere once. He said he was so beautiful that if he were a pet he’d spark a bidding war the likes of which no one had ever seen.’

‘I meant, in an honourable way,’ Charls said, quickly.

‘And everyone in Akielos speaks of the virility of Damianos,’ continued Guilliame.