Byron’s eyes showed interest and concern. “The friend who helped you in all your trials. The one who escaped with you across the Northern Plateau.”
“That’s him. His name is March.”
“And you loved March, but did he not love you?”
“That’s a very good question. I think he did. He wasn’t quite as open with his feelings as I am.”
“Not many are, Your Highness.”
“He was quite the opposite to me, in fact, but he saved my life on several occasions, and I’m proud to say I helped him through terrible suffering too.” Edyon’s eyes filled with tears at the memory of March lying in pain after being tortured in Rossarb.
“And where is he now?”
“I’m not sure. He was banished.”
“Ah . . . him. I’ve heard rumors.”
Edyon nodded and felt sick. “I’m sure all the court gossips about me and him.”
Byron shook his head. “No. Not about you and him, but about him attacking Regan. I heard that it was Thelonius who felt compassion for March, that he valued him as a servant, but had to send him away.”
“The truth is that I asked my father to spare him. He did try to kill Regan—not such a serious crime, it would seem now.” And Edyon thought of Regan in the cells at Birtwistle. He’d died that first night of his wounds, and Edyon felt some pity for him, alone in a cold, miserable cell. How the world turned, and no one could predict the future!
“Perhaps March could return now?”
Edyon tried to smile. “I’d like that, but the truth is that he is gone, and I don’t think he would want to return.”
“May I ask if he was your first love?”
“Not the first. But . . . the only one to stop me stealing.” Then Edyon asked Byron, “And you? Has your heart been broken?”
Byron nodded. “Once. I was much younger and perhaps my heart is stronger for it. It was a simple break—to the relationship and to me. He left me for another.”
He! Well, I had guessed, but still, that’s not unpleasant news.
“I’m sorry for the pain you suffered, Byron. And perhaps my heart will be stronger in the end too.”
Byron was a good person, Edyon thought. Brave, thoughtful, and, of course, handsome. Would it be so wrong to form a close relationship with such a man? Edyon blushed as he said, “I love March still, but that is over, and I need to find a way out of the loneliness I feel. Will you stay with me, Byron? Keep me company?”
Byron turned to Edyon, bent down, and kissed his hand, and said, “I will do all I can.”
MARCH
SOMEWHERE IN SOUTHERN BRIGANT
SINCE NOYES’S visit to camp, Harold had spent more time on his metal contraptions. The bridges were now all made, but they had to be tested. The brigades had discovered, then perfected, the best technique to raise, expand, and drop them almost as one movement. They could do it so quickly now that, even as the ladders were settling in place, the first boys were already leaping in the air to land on them and run across.
The “rungs” of the ladder were flat metal slats that were widely spaced, and the ladder was narrow to keep the weight of the machine down—as March had learned from Harold’s discussion with the blacksmiths who were making it. On the first practice the boys had leaped from rung to rung, but that had caused the ladder to bounce, and the whole thing had flipped up and out of place, sending boys flying through the air. The technique they then used was to run smoothly up the side of the ladder, which was narrow but flat—with smoke in you it was simple.
All the boys grew increasingly aggressive with the use of smoke, and fights between them broke out frequently. How-ever, with all the practice, smoke was running short and Harold’s patience, which was minimal at best, was approaching zero.
Finally, a week after Noyes left, Lord Thornlees arrived with his troops. They kept a quite separate camp from the boys, which seemed wise. Lord Thornlees came to Harold’s camp to deliver the smoke and March poured them both wine.
Harold told Thornlees, “When my brigades attack, your job is to follow us. We will take the wall and then you hold it.”
Thornlees frowned. “Yes, Your Highness. We will hold it together.”
“Yes, yes.”
“Though I’m not sure we can use the metal bridges that your boys are using. I watched the boys’ brigades practicing, and, well,