The Prince in Waiting Read Online Free Page A

it. I said, still harshly:
    â€œYou asked: ‘Why left?’ From now on, in training first and then in the fight, none puts such a question to me. Is that clear?” My eyes went from one to the other, forcing them to nod assent. “I give commands. You obey. If this is done well enough, I shall wear the jeweled sword tomorrow, and you will have gold.” I turned my horse from them and from the road to the city. “Follow.”
    What I had been telling them was, I was sure, nonsense, at any rate insofar as any hopes of our winning the Contest were concerned. What I really wanted was to avoid coming last. As I have said, the team first eliminated always drew jeers from the crowd and I could not bear the thought of it. If we could survive into the second round, I would be happy enough. I had two reasons for pitching things high to my men. One was to shatter the pessimism they must feel over our chances; the second to give them heart for the grueling task ahead, because I meant to keep them at it till both we and our horses were ready to drop from exhaustion. I would risk them going tired into the fight. I was determined we should go in more ready for the tricks our opponents might play, more skilled in evading or countering them.
    My father had the lordship of a farm a few miles from the eastern gate. I had the farmer get his polymufs to drive cattle from a field and we went at it there. In the Contest, as in all fighting on horseback, understanding and control of one’s horse comes first. The horses we had were drawn from the army stables and their ways needed learning. To get mounts for their troop the Young Captains drew lots and chose in turn. The others had gone, as was usual, for the bigger horses. I had let them do so; the ground would be heavy after rain. From one of the grooms, a dwarf I knew well, I sought advice as to which of the smaller beasts were best for stamina, speed, sure-footedness, and I picked them. I had already found that he had given me good guidance. The horses were sound; now it was up to me and my men to learn to handle them. I split the men in two pairs, myself taking first one side then the other, and we rode at each other in mock battle.
    The aim of each team must be to unsaddle the opposing Captains, because once the Captain is dismounted that team retires. There are scores, hundreds, of different tactics which can be employed, but nearly all revolve around a situation in which the Captain has two defending outriders and two attacking ones. This, I had decided, must be abandoned for a start. I could not afford to hide behind defenders, even if the defense were reliable. My only hope lay in deliberately taking chances.
    In close fighting there were countless forms of assault and parry. The wooden swords were our offensive weapons, and we carried small leather shields as a means of defense, but by getting in close enough one could buffet or drag a man from his horse, or pluck, swooping, at his stirrup and upend him. I had studied tricks of Captains in previous years, and there were one or two of my own that I added. I rehearsed my men (and myself) in these over and over again. Beyond that we practiced riding in various patterns and directions in response to signals of command. It was a slow business and more often than not ended in confusion and disorder.
    After another couple of hours, I ordered a break. The farmer had prepared food and drink for us and they were more than ready for it, but first I saw to it that the ponies were fed and watered and rubbed down and blanketed. We ate heartily and I let the men rest a while afterward. Then I called them back to work. They groaned but made no protest. The rain was still soaking down, as steadily though perhaps less chilly. We slogged on as the afternoon drew slowly toward dusk. The sky’s gray was tinged with black when at last I gave the order to break off. We rode back slowly, dog-tired, to the city.
    I swore them to