 “Your Highness” the doctor said, wringing his hands, “I really would be much happier if you’d wait for at least another week.” Tristan ignored him and pulled on his arming doublet over his shirt. He had been patient for weeks and he was bored of sitting around doing nothing all day, every day. The prince strode across the room and lifted his armour from its stand, setting it down on the bed.
“Make yourself useful, Doctor,” he said, forcing a smile, “and buckle me in. We wouldn’t want me to strain myself, would we?” The doctor dithered, torn between his professional opinion, and his reluctance to disobey an order from the heir to the throne. Eventually, the latter won out and he obeyed, threading the leather straps through the loops on the doublet and then bucking them back on themselves. He had advised against the armour too but Tristan, who had lost some weight during his time in the caves and through the resultant fever, and was eager to build himself back up again.
Tristan left the doctor behind him as he marched out of his room and down the corridor to the staircase which would lead him down onto the stable yard below. He didn’t take care on the steps, taking them as quickly as he could with a smile playing on his lips as he imagined the doctor’s face if he had seen him. The prince was travelling so quickly that he nearly barrelled straight past the sergeant waiting for him at the bottom. Tristan felt the firm hand on his shoulder and drew to a reluctant halt, turning around on his heel so as to look the guard in the face.
“His Grace asked me to remind you that you’re to stick to walk and trot, Your Highness,” the soldier said with a knowing smile. The prince looked back at him for a while before finally nodding a dismissal. The guard stood to attention, bowed, and then made his departure leaving Tristan alone in the stairwell.
He blinked as he stepped out into the yard. The sun was high above them and cast a glare into Tristan’s eyes as he made his way across the cobbles. Quite a crowd seemed to have gathered around the stable block, and the prince was aware of their stares as he made his way to Hal’s stall. The sunlight prevented him from seeing more than their legs from the knee down, for which he was grateful. He had no intention of putting on a show on that particular morning. He supposed he was giving them what they wanted without trying anyway. He looked the part with his chest and shoulders clad in steel, and he had been shut up for so long he supposed he had become something of a novelty again in his absence.
Sliding the bolt on the door he stepped into the royal stable block and made his way past first his father’s horse, and then his uncle’s. Hal was kept right in the bottom stall. It was only when he had almost reached the stall door when Tristan finally noticed Alistair standing slightly to one side and looking more polished than he had ever seen him. In normal circumstances the Prince would have been delighted to see his friend but, as soon as he saw him standing there, quite obviously waiting, his suspicions went up. Alistair did work in the stable after all and presumably took instructions from the king’s stable master.
“I don’t need a baby sitter,” Tristan said, “or a guard, or company, or whatever other reason they’ve cooked up to put you here. I just need my horse.” Alistair looked much like Tristan remembered him; a tall and imposing figure with a strong chest and arms. Tristan perhaps had changed a little more in the time since his birthday party. He was thinner, and some of the childish fat had been shed from his face, making the lines of his cheeks a little stronger and his nose seem a little longer. The prince had grown a good few inches and his voice had dropped to a more mature level. His prevailing mood added a little gravity to his outward expression and the raptor tooth that hung around his neck had been joined by a small silver crucifix.
The prince’s eyes travelled to the hook on the wall where he had always kept Hal’s bridle; on this occasion it was empty.
“Where’s his tack?” Tristan asked, nodding his head in the direction of his horse. He smiled a little, “if you tell me and leave me to it, you can have the afternoon off.”
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