His voice carried loudly enough to cause the guard and some of the other bandits to glance their way. Noel reached out and caught Theodore’s wrist.
“Calm down,” he said. “I just asked. Who’s Sophia?”
Theodore shook off his hand. His eyes burned like fire. ‘The Lady Sophia is my betrothed.“
“Uh-oh. He grabbed her during the ambush and made off with her? No wonder you’re so upset.”
“Upset? I-how can you be so ignorant of the world around you? Lady Sophia lives at Mistra. Her father was its most recent governor, and his death opened the post for my appointment. She is alone at the castle, defenseless save for the garrison there that has probably surrendered by now to Sir Magnin’s forces. Who is to protect her?”
“Someone will,” said Noel.
His quick assurance received the stony glare it deserved.
Uncomfortable, Noel shrugged but a warning twinge from his skull told him not to move. “All right,” he said with a sigh. “You’re saying she has no one to watch out for her? No trusty servants?”
“I am saying that Lady Sophia is sixteen, fair, and innocent, no match for a man who knows not God, who mocks all laws save that which his sword arm makes for him, who pillages and thieves and stirs people into revolt against their masters. She… she is on yon hill, a half day’s ride from me. I am this close, and I can do nothing!”
Theodore’s eyes were so raw with anxiety it felt like an intrusion to watch him. “She is waiting for me to rescue her. I am her only hope. How long can she hold out?”
“I do offer you my sympathy,” said Noel, “but-”
“I am her protector!” cried Theodore. “If I fail her, if I fail her…” His voice quivered away and he put his hands to his face.
Noel frowned, disturbed by the man’s weeping. A wave of compassion swept him and before he could stop himself, he set his hand upon Theodore’s shoulder in silent comfort. Inside he raged at the imperative that kept him from getting directly involved in the lives of history. He hated inaction. He hated appearing cold and heartless before this man, who wept before him without shame.
Briefly he knew the temptation to strike back at fate. If he were indeed trapped here, then why not live as he chose? Why not interfere? After all, those who had sabotaged him would have to suffer the consequences, not him.
But once you adopted a principle you didn’t throw it off just because the going got rough. Besides, he didn’t want to think about having to spend the rest of his life here. It brought back that numb, crawling sense of hopelessness to the pit of his stomach.
Who was to say, however, that Sir Magnin’s usurpation of power was the way history was supposed to go?
You are going to get in awful trouble for this, accused a voice in his head.
Noel hesitated a moment longer, but he hurt, and he was mad, and he was scared. Maybe the only way to get the Institute’s attention was to kick the time paradox principle to hell. Maybe then they’d think about rescuing him.
“All right,” he said. He tapped Theodore on the shoulder. “Come on. You’ve squeezed enough tears.”
Theodore’s chestnut head whipped up. “You think I am unmanly?”
“Where I come from we don’t cry over trouble. We do something about it.”
“Oh, brave words indeed,” said Theodore, mocking him. “Having refused my request, you now choose to criticize-”
“I’ll help,” said Noel.
“What?”
Noel wriggled a little, feeling uneasy, but determined to go through with his decision. “I said I’ll help. Briefly. If you think these Greeks are going to really believe I’m the prince, then I’ll go along for a while. But only a short while, understand?”
Theodore gripped his hand, a smile shining from his blue eyes. “Only until I make good my escape. You have my thanks, Noel of Kedran.” He glanced around swiftly to be certain they were unobserved, then shifted so that his back blocked the guard’s view of Noel. Drawing something from a pocket in his sleeve, he passed it to Noel. “Here. My seal of office. Guard it with your life.”
Uneasily Noel wondered what his impulsiveness had gotten him into. But he allowed Theodore to put the object in his hand. The seal was made of gold, and although small, it was quite heavy. He looked at the relief of a two-headed eagle and recognized it as the symbol of Imperial Byzantium. Tracing it with his finger, he shivered as a sense of history flowed from it into his flesh.
“I’ll keep it safe,” he said. “You have my word.”
Theodore smiled, his whole face lighting up with a charisma that made Noel wonder how he had managed to resist the man this long. “I have a plan,” said the prince in a low, eager voice. “It is a desperate one, full of risk, but with God’s help we shall make it work. Listen closely.”
Noel leaned toward him, but his attention was distracted by a horse and rider galloping into the camp and plunging to a halt in a dramatic swirl of dust.
Theodore turned to look also, and his face went pale.
“What is it?” asked Noel in alarm. “Who-”
“See the badge of the falcon on his left shoulder?” whispered Theodore in a hollow voice. “It is one of Sir Magnin’s men.”
A cheer rose from the gathering bandits, and Theodore’s shoulders dropped. “God help us all,” he said in despair. “He must have taken the castle.”
The other courtiers came running from the far end of the pen. “My lord!”
Quick as lightning, Theodore whirled to his feet. “Nicholas, all of you, heed me,” he said. ‘This is Noel of Kedran, a stranger who has agreed to join our cause-“
“But, my lord-”
“Silence! Listen well. We have little time,” said Theodore rapidly. “All of you must pretend that he is Prince Theodore of Albania.”
“But prithee, why?”
“He will explain it to you. The masquerade will free me from their attention and improve my chances of escape. As long as they consider me a servant, I hold little importance.”
“But his clothes-”
“A disguise. The Greeks have invented this intrigue themselves. We need only capitalize upon it. No argument! Play your parts well.”
Not giving them further chances to protest, Theodore swiftly tapped each man upon the shoulder as he made introductions. “Nicholas, my adviser of state. Stephen, my confessor. Thomas, my secretary. Guy, my gentleman in waiting.”
The introductions were too fast and too brief for Noel to assimilate well. They bowed in their turn to him, their faces closed with suspicion and reluctance. Adoring suppliants they were not.
It wasn’t going to work, thought Noel. Not in a million years.
“Theodore the Bold!” called an arrogant voice in French. “Stand forth from your men!”
Theodore milled with the others as they turned about. Of them all, only he sent one last beseeching look at Noel, who still sat upon the ground. The plumpish one called Thomas-already Noel had forgotten his job description-tugged unhappily upon Theodore’s sleeve and shook his head. His eyes looked at his master with open despair.
“What is this cowardice?” demanded that arrogant voice. “Stand forth and face us.”
Noel gulped in a deep breath and said, “Don’t just stand there gawking. Stephen, Noel, help me to my feet.”
The courtiers glanced down at him uncertainly, and their very bewilderment was perhaps the most convincing thing they could have done.
Theodore bent and helped Noel to his feet with a great display of solicitude. For an instant Noel was dizzy. He gripped Theodore’s forearm hard to hang on. Then the tilted world straightened for him and he looked ahead to the knight who stood with legs braced and arms akimbo. The sunshine gleamed off his mail coif, glittered upon the
