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Waves were rolling high without tossing the ship. The night was slowly falling on the sea, the sun lazily dropping a long orangey train on the dark waters. Lost in his thoughts, the prince of Krondor had been silent for long hours, his mind restless. But even if the sleep didn’t want to come, he allowed himself to let his reveries to drift away to his wife and children. He had to protect them. At all cost. Never again he wanted to feel Anita’s body falling into his arms, lifeless. Never again would he lose her. A light rustle and a soft groan caught his attention, tearing him out of his thoughts.
He had let the bed to his squire. Jimmy had push himself beyond his limits: he had hold a siege for many days, he had ridden at full tilt on hundreds of miles thanks to a magic potion that allowed him to stay awake for days, he had found an evil temple and fought a demon once more. For Krondor and his prince. That young burglar had saved his life more times than he cared to admit. He had witnessed devotion amongst his men, but the young burglar’s seemed above anything. He didn’t know what had driven Jimmy the Hand, a homeless kid of Krondor, to put him before the guild where he was born and had grown, but he thanked the gods to have put that kid on his path.
Jimmy was now around twenty-five years old and, even if he knew his limits, he always tried to push them further. This time however, he could have died, sacrificed to a demon on a sticky altar in the middle of the desert... This boy had certainly given more to the Kingdom that he could ever get back in return in his entire life. And Arutha knew how short life could be. He had seen many soldier fall on the battlefield, valiant warriors and mostly men that had taken less risks than the young brunette. More than once, the prince had wondered if he was asking too much from that boy, and at the same time he was the only one he trusted with all these missions. Perhaps the squire had felt a gaze on him: he opened red eyes, veiled with sleep.
As he had often witness the former thief do, Jimmy threw a glance around him, noting every single detail of his surroundings. Survival was an instinct deeply carved in him, a character trait that never ceased to amaze Arutha.
“Amos hasn’t send us to the bottom yet?” The squire joked.
“No, I guess that pirate knows how to navigate.” The prince smirked.
They chuckled, knowing very well that the captain of that ship was without a doubt the most experienced seafarer of the royal fleet and certainly of the entire Bitter Sea. Muffling a yawn, Jimmy stretched himself in the bed, pulling a face while feeling every single of his muscles screaming at the treatment and remembering how much he had mistreated his body. His prince was staring so the young man showed his eternal mischievous smile, pushing all he felt in a corner of his mind. Arutha slightly shook his head and got up, joining his squire on the bed to his interlocutor’s great surprise.
“Your highness?”
“Move.” He sat and caught the former thief’s arm, his fingers slowly massaging his strained muscles.
Jimmy clenched his teeth but didn’t protest. He had often see the soldiers practicing those massages when their bodies were tired out by practice or combats. It wasn't his prince place to make them on him, but at the same time this man wasn’t only his sovereign: he was also his best friend, his benefactor and the one who had saved him from the streets. He would give his life to save this man. And they both knew it. They had gone through trials that few mortals could only imagine in their worst nightmares.
The minutes slowly passed as Arutha patiently massaged his squire’s muscles. His hands wanted to relieve that bruised body. He observed a few minutes of silence before murmuring in a calm and measured voice:
“Jimmy... You took unconsidered risks...”
“I wasn’t the only one. Everyone did a remarkable job.” The squire answered, trying astutely to avoid what he thought might be a reproach.
“Jimmy.” Arutha repeated, slightly more coldly to keep him quiet. “I know I often ask you more than what’s reasonable... You could have died.”
“Your highness... With all due respect, I lived in the streets. I grew up within the Mockers. I could have died every day of my life.” He offered a slight smile. “None of my doings will make my life any shorter: every new day is an extension of it.”
“You’re a bit young to have this kind of wisdom.” His prince said, bemused.
“I have to be outstanding. I’ll be Duke of Krondor one day after all.”
That last remark tore a burst of laugh out of his sovereign: Jimmy the Hand, a thief from the street who was slowly hauling himself in their society, had expressed one day the wish to become one of the most influent men of the Kingdom of the Isles. And may all the gods be witnesses of it: that young man could definitely achieve his goal one day. But his smile slowly faltered and the prince almost whispered:
“Jimmy... No one has ever given his life for me as often as you do. You are...” He searched for words, not very used to express his feelings. “You are someone very dear to me. And I would blame myself all my life if something happened to you. This time, I might have lost you...”
Slowly, Arutha approached and leant his forehead against his squire’s shoulder. Jimmy’s eyes widened, his body slightly stiffening at the contact. Should he put his arms around him? No, that would be too familiar and he doubted that the prince wanted him to do that. He chose to stay still, tossing a glance to this man but was only able to see his jet-black hair strewn with thin grey hair. He knew Arutha held him in high esteem, but hearing it was different, he felt his eyes burning and a stupid smile pulling on his lips as his heart agreeably warmed up.
“No one else than you ever thought to grant me the trust you give me every day without a second thought. You saw in me more than I dare see in the mirror without fearing vanity.” Jimmy murmured back.
He slowly swallowed and chose his words, hesitating to make them leave the privacy of his mind. But the prince had opened up to him, so he might as well return the favour:
“You showed me that righteousness and an honest life were worth to be lived. Without you, I would have died at sixteen because of the wound on my side, somewhere in the sewer of the city that saw me grow up. Without you, I could have had my throat slit by the Mockers for breaking my oath towards the guild.” He smiled and finished. “So yes, my life is yours, entirely. As long as Ruthia will have me in her good graces.”
Arutha slightly smiled as the young thief mentioned the goddess of luck and the thieves. He also remembered how many times Jimmy had sworn and called her an inconstant bitch when he ran out of luck. The prince straightened himself, placing his hands on his squire’s shoulders and looked at him in the eyes: at twenty-five years old, many young ones at the court still had the innocence of those who only knew war in the books or in the stories narrated by the minstrels... That innocence had long deserted the young thief’s eyes who had seen more horrors than many veterans in his army. Many times, their friendship had told him it wasn’t fair, even if he had himself headed Crydee’s garrison when he was only nineteen, at the beginning of what they called now the Rift War.
“Sire?” Jimmy’s voice tore him out of his reverie once more.
He had been staring at him for many long seconds and the squire was concerned: Arutha never opened up much, but his look generally spoke for him. He seemed to carry the destiny of Midkemia on his shoulders, because of his obligations, duties and prophecies... Many times, the young man had thought it was unfair. The prince was a good man and a right one who didn’t deserve half the trials that were thrown at him. Arutha deeply sighed, with this weary sigh that can have those from whom life asked too much, and said:
“Rest, Jimmy. Who knows what awaits for us and in which terrible dangers I’ll make you go through again... Sleep. You owned it.”
He was about to get up, turning around, but Jimmy caught the wrists of his prince in a hastily gesture, keeping him there.
“Your highness!”
The second most influent man of the Kingdom of the Isles brought back his attention on the young man, surprised by the gesture. It had a familiarity that no squire would ever dare to allow himself with his sovereign but they were different. Arutha would never condemn such a gesture from the former thief. And the brunette got it as his prince didn’t look away, simply waiting to understand what he was trying to tell him. Slowly, Jimmy let his breath drop off to allow his heart to calm down and he lowered his friend’s hand in front of him, searching for the right words to express properly what he wanted to say.
“All my life, I swear I’ll look after you and after Princess Anita. And on all those you cherish. By some agreement I don’t know the content, you saved my life when it didn’t worth much. Thanks to you, I grew up and became someone more decent who can watch themselves in the mirror without shame. This life, it belongs to you until my very last breath.”
And on those words, he dropped his head and pressed his lips on Arutha’s phalanxes, sealing by it the promise he had sworn to himself since the very first day but he had never expressed out loud. His oath of allegiance towards his prince. Arutha stared at him for a moment before smiling at him and leaning, pressing his lips on his. Jimmy’s eyes widened at that warm and soft touch. He knew that kisses, others than those from love or in the joy of the bed, were used in the ancient vassalage rituals as a proof of allegiance; but this one was more like the one between knights: like the one that tying up in friendship those who shared it, like an equal to equal recognition. His heart had missed a beat but was now catching up by drumming fiercely against his ribs.
Arutha moved away, offering him again one of his smiles that were usually so rare, and freed his wrists from his squire’s hands. He patted his shoulder and got up from the bed, telling him once more to rest. He would ask someone to bring him a meal. And on those words, he left the room, leaving Jimmy alone. Inhaling deeply, almost trembling, the young man let himself fall on the mattress and an incredulous smile pulled on his lips as his eyes watered.
Never ever he had imagined that the prince would offer him such recognition. Of course, he always praised him for his work and always treated him with respect but... Despite all their adventures, never he had thought he’d receive one day a gesture so simple and yet so great. His equal... Jimmy wasn’t vain enough to think he could be the equal of a prince, obviously, but that Arutha shown such a respect for someone like him, a kid from the streets. Tears were now running wildly along his temples as a light laugh escaped from his lips. Such a joy was discourteous but he didn’t care. He was happy. Thankful. He addressed his gratitude to Ruthia, goddess of luck, to have put that man on his path.
He would protect him. Always. With all his strength and soul until it would leave his body in order to go into the palace of Lims-Kragma, goddess of the dead.
He, Jimmy the Hand, would devote his entire life to serve and protect Arutha ConDoin. His Prince.
THE END.