Ranger's Apprentice 12: The Royal Ranger (7 page)

Gilan seemed to sense his thoughts. He shook his head abruptly.

‘Wheeler is dead. But it wasn’t Will’s doing. He tried to attack Will and fell on his own knife.’

Halt heaved a silent sigh of relief. ‘And the other two?’ he asked.

‘He captured them both and brought them in for trial and sentencing. Although he said to me that he was hoping they’d try to escape. I got the feeling that he even gave them several opportunities to do so. But they weren’t stupid enough to take them.’

There was a brief silence as they thought about their old friend.

‘What about Ruhl?’ Horace asked.

‘Will nearly caught him on one occasion,’ Gilan replied.

Halt looked up quickly. ‘I didn’t know that.’

Gilan nodded. ‘It wasn’t long after he started hunting them down. He got within five metres of him. Ruhl was on a punt, crossing a river. Will arrived just too late, after the punt had left the bank. They were face to face for a few seconds. But by the time Will had unslung his bow, Ruhl had taken cover behind some wool bales. Will tried to follow by climbing along the overhead cable that held the punt against the current. But when Ruhl reached the far
bank, he cut through the cable and dropped Will in the river. He came close to drowning.’

‘So close,’ Halt muttered. ‘I imagine that makes it even worse for him.’

Gilan nodded agreement.

‘So, Gil,’ Pauline said, ever the one for practical action, ‘what do you suggest we do – other than simply talking about it and wringing our hands?’

Gilan hesitated. He was moving onto uncertain ground here, but his instinct told him the key to Will’s salvation lay with the people in this room – the ones closest to him.

‘Look,’ he said slowly, ‘we’re the ones he loves above all others. And the ones who love him. Maybe if we all talked to him together. If we got him into a room and told him how we’re worried for him, how we can see the harm this quest for revenge is doing to him, well, maybe the fact that we’re all saying it will get through to him. Maybe he’ll . . . I don’t know . . . snap out of it?’

He finished the rambling sentence on a questioning note, as if looking for one of the others to supply the answer. To tell the truth, he wasn’t sure what they could achieve. But he sensed that this group of people were the key to solving Will’s problem. Perhaps the combined force of their love for him could break through the dark fog that was swirling in his mind, pull aside the black curtain that had separated him from all but one thought – revenge for Alyss’s death.

‘I don’t think just talking will do it –’ Horace said thoughtfully.

Cassandra interrupted. ‘But surely if we all talked to him, all of us at once, we could get through to him?’

Horace pursed his lips. ‘I don’t know. You know how Will is. He’s stubborn. Always has been.’ He glanced to Halt for confirmation, and the old Ranger nodded.

‘Odds are,’ Horace continued, ‘if we just talk at him, he’ll nod his head and pretend to agree with us. Then, when we’re done, he’ll simply continue on as he has been.’

He paused, his face set in a thoughtful frown. He sensed he was close to an idea but couldn’t quite grasp it.

‘We need a new focus for him. Something that will break his obsession with Jory Ruhl and his surviving accomplice. Something that will occupy his mind so fully that it will leave no room for thoughts of revenge.’

Gilan spread his hands in a defeated gesture. ‘Well, as I said, I tried to send him on two missions and he –’

‘It needs to be something more compelling, more personally involving than just a mission,’ Pauline said, grasping what Horace was getting at. Like him, she felt there was an idea floating just out of reach. It was Halt who stated it.

‘He needs to take on an apprentice,’ he said.

They all turned to look at him. The idea, once stated, seemed so obvious. Both Horace and Pauline nodded. This was what they had been getting at, without realising it.

Gilan looked hopeful for a few seconds, then he shook his head in frustration.

‘Problem is,’ he said, ‘we have no suitable candidates at the moment. And we can’t offer him someone substandard. He’ll simply refuse to take on someone who’s not up to scratch, and he’ll be right. I won’t be able to blame him for that.’

‘I wasn’t thinking just any apprentice,’ Halt said. ‘It needs to be someone he already has a personal connection with. Someone he cares about, so that he can’t refuse. It needs to be a person who will involve him emotionally – as well as physically and intellectually.’ He looked at his wife. ‘Remember years ago, when I sent Will off to Celtica with Gilan and I started behaving a little . . . erratically?’

‘You started throwing noblemen out castle windows, as I recall,’ she said, her lips twisting to contain a smile. Halt made a gesture that indicated he didn’t want to get into detail about that time in his life.

‘Whatever. You sensed that I needed a new influence in my life to take my mind off the things that were troubling me.’

‘As I recall, you were assigned to accompany Alyss on a mission,’ she said.

‘And it did the trick. Her youth and cheerfulness snapped me right out of my brown mood.’

Lady Pauline arched an eyebrow. ‘It didn’t stop you throwing people into moats.’

‘Maybe not. But he deserved it,’ Halt said, showing a rare grin. Then he became serious again. ‘Anyway, what I’m thinking is, if we put Will in charge of someone like I described, it might get his mind off this quest for revenge. And if we can do that, we’ll be well on the way to helping him accept and live with Alyss’s loss.’

‘Of course, you never get over the loss of a loved one,’ Cassandra mused.

Halt nodded to her. ‘No. But you can learn to live with it and accept it. And gradually, the hurt becomes more bearable. It doesn’t go away, but it becomes bearable.’

Gilan had been watching his former mentor carefully while he put his case. The young Commandant knew Halt, probably better than anyone else in the room.

‘I take it you have someone specific in mind to be Will’s apprentice?’ he asked.

Halt looked at him. ‘I was thinking Madelyn.’

SUDDENLY, EVERYONE WAS
talking at once.

‘Madelyn? You mean
my
Madelyn?’ Cassandra cried, coming half to her feet.

‘You must be joking, Halt!’ said Horace.

‘But she’s a girl!’ That was Gilan.

Halt waited until they all fell silent. Then he answered them calmly.

‘Yes, Cassandra. I do mean your Madelyn. And no, I’m not joking, Horace. And yes, Gilan, I am aware that Madelyn is a girl.’

He noticed that, alone among those in the room, his wife had said nothing. He glanced sideways at her and was not surprised to see that she was nodding her head thoughtfully. He gave her a brief smile. The others were all still totally nonplussed by his suggestion. Cassandra had fallen back into her chair as she realised he was serious. He spoke to her now.

‘Evanlyn,’ he said. Like Will, Halt usually used that
name for her in private. It was a mark of affection between them. ‘Let’s just think about something. If you had a son instead of a daughter, what would he be doing now?’

‘I didn’t have a son –’ she began, but he held up his hands to still her protest.

‘Just humour me. Let’s say, hypothetically, you have a son. How would you be preparing him for his future as the ruler of Araluen?’

Cassandra bit her lip. She could see what he was angling at and she refused to give his suggestion any support.

Horace answered for her. ‘He’d be in the army,’ he said in a flat tone.

Cassandra whipped round to glare at him. ‘Horace!’ she cried accusingly, but Horace, tall and practical and honest, shrugged at her. There was no avoiding the answer.

Halt nodded gently, his eyes still fixed on Cassandra as she turned back to him. She flushed. He could see that she regretted the sudden surge of anger she had directed at her husband.

‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘Probably in a cavalry regiment. You would have trained him with the sword and the lance for the past few years, I would think, Horace?’

Horace nodded, a little regretfully. During the time of Cassandra’s pregnancy, he had nursed visions of training a son to ride and wield a sword and a lance like his father. When Cassandra had delivered a daughter, he had felt a moment of shocked surprise. He had simply never considered that possibility. It has to be said that this was quickly overcome by a deep-seated, lasting pleasure at the prospect of raising a daughter. But he remembered those long-ago dreams now.

Halt continued. ‘Probably be a junior officer, commanding a squad, learning how to lead men in combat, how to make life-or-death decisions.

‘And I would guess that you wouldn’t insist that he be kept away from combat. You’d recognise that he would have to be seen as a leader who shared danger with the men he commanded. Maybe he’d be assigned to a term of picket duty in the north, protecting against Scotti raiders. Or he’d be patrolling the south-west coast, fighting smugglers and Moondarkers.’

He paused, looking at the two of them. Horace was looking resigned, as if he agreed that this was what a son of his would be expected to do. Cassandra’s lips were pressed together in a thin, stubborn line.

‘What he wouldn’t be doing would be sitting in a big, comfortable castle, surrounded by hundreds of men at arms and never knowing what it was like to face danger, to pit himself against an enemy and come out on top.’

Gilan opened his mouth to say something, but Halt held up a hand to stop him. He knew what Gilan’s objection was but he’d deal with that in a minute or two.

‘So why should your daughter be any different?’ he asked. Cassandra’s eyes flashed up to meet his.

‘Because she
is
my daughter!’ she snapped. ‘Do you expect her to go into the army and lead a platoon of cavalry?’

‘No,’ Halt said in a reasonable tone. ‘But I think joining the Rangers would be a logical alternative. She’d learn to command, to make decisions, to judge a situation and come up with the right answer at the right time. As for the more physical side of battle, well, we Rangers have always
tended to step back and leave that to the bash and whackers like Horace. No offence,’ he added with a small smile.

Horace shrugged. ‘I recall you taking your place in the battle line more than once, Halt.’

Halt nodded. ‘I have. But it’s not absolutely necessary for a Ranger to do it. That was usually just vanity on my part.’

‘But even so, you admit that there would be danger?’ Cassandra said.

Halt turned to her. ‘Of course. We live in a dangerous world. When you’re dead and gone and Maddelyn inherits the throne, there will be people who won’t want her there. They’ll have their own agendas and their own candidates for ruler. If they think they’re dealing with a helpless girl, they’ll try to take advantage of the fact. They might be a little more reluctant if they knew she was a trained Ranger – and had the backing of the entire Corps. We tend to look after one another, you know.’

Cassandra considered his words. Araluen was at peace, but she was aware that there were still elements in the Kingdom who would be ready to rebel at the slightest sense of weakness from their ruler. And any change of ruler could always precipitate a power struggle among ambitious people. Cassandra’s own reputation, and Horace’s skill as a warrior, were enough to keep such elements at bay. The people of Araluen were aware that their future queen was not one to be browbeaten or suborned in any way. Any rebellion against her would be quickly snuffed out.

But Maddie? What would she bring to the throne? What would her reputation be? She saw now that Halt’s description of her as a helpless girl was all too accurate.
Of course, she would have advisers and supporters. But Cassandra knew that the true strength of the throne came from the ruler herself. From her ability, her confidence, her skill and experience in dealing with tough and frightening situations. But still . . .

‘But the danger, Halt? How can I place my little girl in danger? What if she’s injured?’ she said, her voice miserable.

‘What if she’s hurrying to a needlepoint class, trips on the hem of her long, girly skirt, falls down the stairs and breaks her neck?’ Halt asked. ‘You can’t mollycoddle her.’

He paused, remembering his conversation with Duncan. ‘Your father said that things are going to be tough for you when you inherit the throne,’ he said. ‘They’re going to be even tougher for Maddie. She may not find someone like Horace to support her.’

Halt leaned forward and took Cassandra’s hands.

‘You’d be placing her in the care of the greatest, most capable Ranger Araluen has ever known,’ he said quietly. He sensed the surprise among the others and looked up at them.

‘Oh, Will’s better than I ever was,’ he said, smiling. Once, his vanity might not have allowed him to say that, but now the words came easily.

‘Maybe not
better.
But certainly as good,’ Gilan admitted reluctantly.

‘And he’s younger.’ Pauline smiled.

‘Thank you for that reminder,’ Halt told her. Then he turned back to Horace and Cassandra. ‘Think about it. Could Maddie be in safer hands? Will loves her. He’s her godfather. He looks upon her as his niece, if not his surrogate
daughter. You’d be entrusting her to his care and you know he would die before he let any harm come to her.’