AS A MAN WITH AN EARNED KNIGHTHOOD, Terry was required to put in his months of annual service to the king. Because he chose to serve in the Royal Guard, he was generally able to enter the palace without anyone taking much notice. The night of his return was a little bit different. It was a clandestine meeting, so he was not in uniform. He cleaned up and changed clothes as soon as he arrived back at the city, but he was stiff and sore from the fracas with the dragon, and he still looked as if he had been in a fight. Nonetheless he was able to avoid the guards on duty, let himself in through a little-used service entrance, and make his way to a suite of offices used by scriveners during the day and by no one at night. The Princess was already there, waiting for him. Gloria had concealed herself again in a loose cloak and hood, but Terry was able to recognize her immediately. This was because she launched herself at him the moment she saw him and covered his face with kisses.
When they eventually disentangled, Gloria explained about Roland, and Terry explained about Jane. The whole story took a bit of time, because he periodically had to wait for Gloria to stop giggling. “Huggins?” she said. “Omigod, Huggins! Oh, the poor, poor man.” She started laughing again.
“It’s not funny,” said Terry, although it was, and he had to work to hide his own smile. “I still owe him for this month’s wages. I’ll have to send a cheque.”
“We must send a wedding present. What shall it be? For Huggins, something he can drink, I suppose.”
“I’m sure he’ll appreciate anything that comes in a cask.”
Gloria grabbed Terry’s hand. She tugged him into an empty room, found a tinderbox on a table by the door, and passed it to Terry. “I have a surprise for you. Light that candle over there, please.”
Terry lit a candle while Gloria lit a lamp. Light suffused the small office. Gloria stood in the middle of the room, holding her cloak tight around herself, the hood pulled close to her face. He waited expectantly. When she was sure she had his attention, she flung off the cloak with a dramatic flourish, and did a little pirouette. “What do you think?”
“About what?”
“Do you notice anything different about me?”
Experience had taught Terry what to say when women asked this question. “You’ve lost weight!” he said approvingly. “And you look great! Of course you looked great before, but now the extra definition really enhances your…”
“Wrong,” snapped Gloria. “Try again.”
“A new dress,” said Terry enthusiastically. “It looks great! The color goes so well with your eyes.”
“Are you blind? Sometimes I swear all men are blind.” She tossed her head and pointed at her hair. “I changed my hair color.”
Terry carefully looked her over. “No you didn’t.”
“Of course I did. It’s blond.”
“It was blond.”
“Not this blond. Before it was Light Honey Gold, and now it’s Medium Almond Sunburst.”
“It looks the same.”
Gloria crossed her arms. “I don’t believe this. You know, Terry, women go through a lot of trouble to look good for their men, and the least you men can do is try to show some appreciation.”
“I get my hair cut every month. I don’t jump in front of every woman I meet and say, ‘Well, what do you think?’”
“That’s because your hair always looks the same.”
But yours does look the same, Terry knew enough not to say. Instead, he chose a strategic retreat. He took her arm and gently guided her closer to the lamp. “Well, of course,” he said with conviction. “The light wasn’t good enough for me to tell at first, but now that you’re nearer the lamp I can see the dramatic difference. Yes, it’s beautiful. It is truly quite striking.”
“Do you really think so?” said Gloria, cuddling closer to him.
Terry stroked her hair. “Of course. It looks great. And the color goes so well with your eyes.”
“Such a charmer,” murmured Gloria. She gave him a finishing kiss, then got businesslike. “Now then. If anyone asks, you’ve been hunting at Lord George’s lodge for the past month. I’ll tell Jenny to tell George to support your story. No one keeps track—there are always hunting parties going on there for boar and hart. Tomorrow I’ll go to the College of Heraldry. I know a few of the clerks there. It won’t cost much to have them cobble up a coat of arms for Huggins and slip it into the records. Did anyone see your crest?”
“It’s on my armor.”
“The preux chevalier, right? A helm with a red mantle? I’ll have the clerk develop something that looks similar for Huggins. Probably no one in Dasgut will remember your crest, but if the question does come up, they’ll just think they were confused.”
“Good.”
“I’ll also visit the records clerk at the tournament committee and have him insert Sir Huggins into the lists for a few past tourneys. As long as we don’t pretend he actually won a contest, no one will make an issue of it.” Gloria thought for a minute. “That ought to provide enough back-story for a quick check. I doubt anyone will look at Huggins’ past history very closely. People over here won’t care. People over there — well—King Dafoe is really eager to get Jane married off.”
“Huggins will adapt,” said Terry. “Life’s a stage, we all have our parts to play, and the role of a gentleman of leisure just suits him. Although…” He looked pensive.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?”
“Ah, well, it’s just that…I don’t know.” Terry looked away, suddenly embarrassed that he was displaying too much emotion. “I mean, how many knights ever manage to slay a dragon? How many knights have ever even seen a dragon? And now that I’ve done it, I have to give the credit to someone else. My squire gets to be a hero. Of course,” he continued swiftly, afraid his mood might be misinterpreted, “it’s worth it for you, honey. But if you have to marry Roland anyway . . .”
“You’re a hero to me, Terry.”
“Aw, Gloria. You’re so sweet. That makes me feel totally pathetic.”
“I’m sorry.” Gloria hugged him. “I know you really slew the dragon, sweetie. It was very noble of you to give up the credit. And we are getting married. Don’t worry about Roland. I have a plan.”
She cast about for her cloak. Terry helped her arrange it over her shoulders. “Whatever you have is bound to turn out better than my dragon-slaying plan. What is it?”
The Princess patted his hand. “I’ll tell you when the time is right. We’ll get married, and you’ll be a hero, too. Now you go off and report for duty tomorrow as though you were returning from a hunting trip. Wait for a message from me. And don’t worry about Roland.”