"We'll stop here, captain. I'll walk on alone," said the king, reining his horse to a stop about a hundred yards from the small fire. The evening was starting to deepen, and the fire cast strange, dancing flickers on the trees around it. The wild man was seated on the far side, leaning against a tree trunk, just a faint shadow in the darkness behind the fire.
"Your majesty, please, do not do this. The man is dangerous. We should accompany you," the captain pleaded.
The king was unmoved. "Your concern is appreciated, captain, but I do not fear this man." 'I do not fear for my life, anyway,' the king thought to himself. "Besides," he added, "if this man wanted my life I'd give it to him willingly. I owe it to him many times over." Out of old habit, the king started to dismount, sending a sharp pain coursing up his back. He winced and drew an audible breath through his clenched teeth, and the captain and two nearby guards leapt from their mounts and rushed to help him. "Thank you," he said, panting deeply, as they guided his leg over the old stallion's backside and lowered him gently down to the soft grass of the orchard. Winded, he leaned against the captain's shoulder for a moment.
"So, you know this man, your majesty," the captain said after a moment of silence. "I suspected as much."
"He is one of my oldest friends, and a friend to this kingdom, captain," the king answered, his breath beginning to calm.
"Strange friendship," the captain snapped with disdain, forgetting himself. He immediately felt his error as hot blood rushed to his cheeks.
"If I told you his name, captain, you'd think again. It is a name known to you, though you're too young to remember him yourself. His name is known to all of you," the king said, releasing the captain's shoulder and turning to address the group. "He deserves your kindness."
"Yes, your majesty," the captain was flustered. "If he'd only told us he was a friend, or come to the gate like a proper visitor, majesty. I'd never have been so forceful with him if... Forgive me, sir," he said. "He was just so... well... so coarse when he spoke of you. It angered me and..." his voice trailed off.
"Eustin can be coarse, it's true," the king began. At the mention of the name, an audible gasp went up from the party, and they began to chatter.
"This wild man is Eustin, your majesty?" came the voice of a young guard. "Is he the Eustin who slew ten thousand men with his bare hands in the war?" came another voice. The captain tried to shush them, but they were too excited.
The king laughed. "There's more than a bit of exaggeration in that number, my friend," he said. "But yes, he is the same man." The king turned to the captain, but the captain, unable to hold the king's gaze, cast his eyes to the ground.
"Forgive me, sir," he said, softly.
"Captain, you did nothing wrong," the king reassured him, placing a hand on the captain's back. "You've done your duty well, today, though I daresay you and your men didn't stand much of a chance. Eustin is, what did you say, formidable?" The king smiled, and the captain seemed to feel a little relief. "You're a good man, captain," the king said, and the words stuck like a lump in his throat, reminding him of the man, and the eyes, waiting across the orchard. Not wanting to wait any longer, the king began abruptly to walk toward the little fire. "Wait here," he said, not turning around.
The captain felt helpless and frustrated, but he knew the king would brook no objection. When he was sure the old man was out of earshot, the captain turned to the group. "Be on your guard, men," he said. "I don't care who this man is. At the first sign of trouble, we move. Keep your wits. This Eustin may be a great hero, but remember that we serve the greater of the two. We may not stand a chance, but we stand nevertheless. Be alert."
