Chapter 1

Roland watched the small boy stare out at the lake. His eyes never left the spot where the ferry had disappeared in the fog, taking his father with it. He wasn't crying, wasn't showing any emotion at all, but Roland knew that inside, anguish was ripping the poor lad's heart to shreads. It had been obvious in the way he'd pleeded with his father just moments before.
Father, I'm afraid!
Of what?
I won't know the way back home.
Don't be foolish, son. Just follow your feet.
Poor kid. He thought he was going home eventually. Roland had thought the same thing when his father had dropped him off at he landing. Only that hadn't really been his fault, he reflected. His father had told him to stick it out for a year two; then he'd get to come home. He'd be much wiser and have lots of prize money for the family. Now, eight years later, he had no money and this was the fourth time they'd come back to the landing and left it again without him ever laying eyes on London.
He jerked sharply as Sir Ector's voice cut through his reverie.
Yes, sir?
I thought I told you to show the boy about his duties.
Yes, sir. You did, sir.
Well then get on about it.
Yes, sir!
Roland reached out a hand and gently grabbed the boy's shoulder.
Come on, lad. You heard Sir Ector.
Wordlessly, the boy turned from the lake and stared at him with wide, scared eyes.
Let me show you the horse's tack. You'll need to know how to saddle im and get im ready for Sir Ector. He started walking toward the horse even before he finished the sentence, the boy trailing behind him.

* * *
After an hour or more of going over ever piece of tack This a bridle, lad. You put it on like this. ,what was expected of a squire Take it from me, boy, if you're seen but not heard, you can't go wrong., and the safety rules for dealing with weapons For us squires, there aren't any. You sit on that horse, grit your teeth, and pray to the Awesome Father. he was exhausted as well as starving. He was a bit worried about the boy, as well. He hadn't said one word since the ferry had disappeared. He answered every yes or no question with a nod or a shake of his head. A question that required anything more just received a shrug. Roland wished he knew the kid's name. His father had probably said it sometime before he left, but he hadn't heard, beeing busy stacking equipment at the time.
He sat down gingerly next to him, cradling two bowls of soup, two chunks of stale bread, and two spoons. He settled himself against a tree before handing the lad his portion of food. He handed a spoon to him and then, at last, turned to his own food.
He had taken perhaps three spoonfulls, when he heard a gurgling noise. He glanced at the boy sharply and saw with alarm that he had ignored the spoon, put the bowl to his lips, and was sucking down the soup as though he were afraid it would disappear. When he finished the bowlful, he set it down and started tearing at the bread like a wild animal. It was gone in about five seconds. The whole meal had taken ten, at most.
Roland sat there, frozen. He had his spoon halfway to his mouth and was gaping at the boy speechlessly. He had never seen anyone eat quite like that. He had certainly been hungry, gone without food for a couple days. But nothing he'd experienced had been like what he'd just seen. The boy had been no different from a starving dog.
Without the slightest thought to himself, he he thrust his soup at him.
The boy shook his head, his lips clamped together.
Go on, eat it for heaven't sake!, Roland said in exasperation.
That's yours.
Roland stared. The boy had spoken for the first time. He had a tiny voice. His eyes looked moist as he looked at the soup held out to him, but somehow, amazingly, he was telling Roland to eat it himself.
When was the last tilme you had a meal? he asked, unable to think of anything else to say.
Dunno. Can't remember.
Well I can tell you when my last meal was, Roland said. A few hours ago. Plus, he invented. I had some more bread when I was getting our food from Sir Ector. So you eat my soup. He wafted the smell toward the kid, which seemed to make up his mind. He reached for the soop and started sucking it. He still wasn't using the spoon and was still eating very fast, but he lacked the animalistic quality he'd eaten his first bowl with. What's your name, boy? I can't keep calling lad' and boy' all the time.
the boy said.
Mind if I call you Will?

Roland shrugged. It's shorter.
I guess you can.
He paused, casting around for something else to say. Did you want to be a squire or did your father make you?
Roland, why do you keep tryilng to get me to talk when you want me to eat so badly?
Because if you eat too much too fast, you get sick.

Didn't you ever have enough food to get sick on?
Guess not. Least, I never got sick on food before.
He didn't really know how to answer that. He suddenly felt guilty about his round belly.
Thank you, Roland. Will sounded tired as he pushed his bowl aside.

A little.
You can lean on me if you want.
Roland felt a warm tingle as Will leaned into him. He eased his arm around the boy's tiny shoulders and thought wistfully that it was almost like sitting on the small flight of steps at the tavern with his brother Benjamin asleep next to him, waiting for Father to come back from the tailor's shop. Roland shook himself mentally. This was not home and Will was not Benjamin. Still, he thought, as he glanced down at the yawning boy, he was the perfect size for a little brother.
It was only after Will's gentle snores filled the air that Roland realized he had not answered his question about being a squire.

Chapter 2


8 years later. . .


Roland watched the fiteen-year-old William as he shouldered two lances and walked with ease over to the field where the knights were practicing for the tournament that would begin in a few hours. Lord, the kid was strong. Sir Ector had been right when he'd told Roland several years before that he didn't doubt that William Thatcher would be the best squire any knight ever had. Roland had been more than a little jealous at the time, but over the years, his jealousy had turned into pride. After all, there was something to be said for being the teacher/best friend of the squire every knight wanted.
Going to stand there all day, are you? a snippy voice asked from behind him.
Roland asked, turning. A boy with flaming red hair about Will's age was standing there. He was cradling a lance in his arms and had a sword balanced on his shoulder. He also had a heavy pack on his back and a very annoyed expression on his face.
Asked you if you were going to stand there all day. It's narrow between these tents, as you might have noticed. With this lance, I've got to go through sideways and your blocking my way. He glared.
Well why didn't you ask me to move? Roland asked.
Don't ask nobody for nothing. It's you rich folks at ask us for money with all them taxes, taxes, taxes. Don't ever want to be like you.
I'll have you know I'm not rich! Roland was becoming angry. After sixteen years of being a squire I have nothing to show for it except bruised bones and sore feet.
And a fat belly! the boy yelled.
Roland grabbed the boy's ear, twisted it hard, and was rewarded with a satisfying scream of pain and a clatter as the lance and sword fell from his hands.Who do you take orders from, boy? I'm going to tell im to give you a nice flogging!
You wouldn't! the boy cried, tears in his eyes.
Oh yes I will, lad! Yes I will! Now tell me who he is! He shook the boy viscously, but he squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, refusing to say anything.
Tell me! Roland dealt the boy a smart rap on the side of his head. It had the opposite effect he intended. The boy's eyes flew open, blazing hatred.
The last thing Roland remembered was the kid's fist coming at him.

* * *
It hurt. Oh, goodness, it hurt. Everything was black, but he could feel the pain. And something else. A cool hand on his forehead?
Will he be all right?
Yes, sir. The kid really got him though.
How bad was it?
Pretty bad, sir. I saw the kid punch him as soon as I turned around. He'd nocked Roland out, but he dropped him on the ground and kicked him in the temple anyway.
Really? Why? A flogging was nothing really awful. Sir Ector had whipped him on occasion when he'd forgotten something important. Why did the boy hate him?
Did the boy get in trouble?
Yes, sir. He works for the cook at the tavern here. Luckily, the cook was out looking for him and saw me pry him off Roland. When I told him what had happened, he was furious.
That's good. A boy like that needs to learn how to get control of his temper.
Yes, sir.
And yet, I wonder. . .

Oh, nothing, William. You watch over Roland. I've got to go to banquet.
Yes, sir.
Roland swam upward to full consciousness as the sound of footsteps faded away. He could see the blury outline of Will's face now, but the pain his head was building to such a level that he wished he could have stayed unconscious.
Will's voice was tense, hopeful, worried, and releived all at the same time.
Yes, Will, Roland said groggily.
Are you all right, Roland?
I-I don't-
Never mind. Don't talk. It must hurt like anything. I'll just let you come to.
Roland waited a few moments and Will's face slid into focus.
I'm alright, William. He saw Will let out a deep breath. He wondered if Will had realized he'd been holding it.
What happened, Roland? I don't understand it.
Well, Roland began. He tried to sit up but a white-hot star burst across his vision. Will shoved him down again. I don't understand it either. I was standing in between the tents, watching you, and this really snippy voice from behind me asks I plan on standing there all day. I turn around and there's this boy standing there (I think he was about your age) and he's loaded down with a bunch of equipment and has this really annoyed look on his face. I asked him why he hadn't asked me to move, and he said Don't ask nobody for nothing. It's you rich folks-
William burst in. We're not rich!
I know, and I tried to tell him that, but he wouldn't listen. He just kept getting madder and madder when I said we weren't rich and that all I had after years of hard work were bruised bones and sore feet. He yelled that I had a fat belly. For some reason, that really got to me. I grabbed his ear and twisted it-
Will looked shocked.
Yes. Me.
Well, so much for sweet, gentle Roland.
Sweet, gentle Roland has a temper, too, Will.

Well, anyway. I tried to get him to tell me who his master was, because I wanted to make sure that he got a good flogging-
He certainly deserved one.
-and he punched me.
What? Just because you wanted to give a flogging because he was rude to you for no reason?
So it would seem.
Will leaned his head on his hand and looked up at the sky.
Do you have a theory, Will?
Well I don't know, Roland, but I think he might have thought you were a knight. And what if he was sent away from his family because he needed to work for money to pay off debts. Maybe the knights and nobles still looked down on him and prevented him from doing something he really wanted to do. Maybe -here, Will's voice sank to a whisper- maybe he wants to change his starts, too, and they won't let him.
What's that mean, Will? What's it mean to change your stars?
Something about Will closed, shutting Roland out. It had been that way ever since Roland had first met him. William always shared absolutely everything with him, except that. Will used the phrase at the oddest times; sometimes he he muttered it to himself while he stacked lances or polished swords; sometimes he'd be watching the knights practice and say it to himself. Roland was not often curious, but this had been one exception. Whenever he heard Will say the phrase, he would hint, poke, prod, or ask straight out what it meant. Will never answered him. Sometimes he tolerated Roland for awhile, but whenever Roland got too curious for his liking, he'd close. He would go completely silent and stare out at nothing. There was no telling how long he'd stay that way. Most often, it would only last for a few minutes or an hour or two at most. Other times, though, it would last for days. Once, he'd gone on like that for a whole week. He'd had to talk then, of course, but it had been in a very stiff manner, and he'd looked blanlky at anything but the person he was talking to. Then, suddenly, he'd come up to Roland one morning and asked him cheerfully what chance he thought Sir Ector had of winning the next tournament. It had taken some getting used to, but Roland had slowly gotten accostomed to it and learned not to try to cheer Will up, but to let him take as long as he needed to come out of his shell and let the world back in.
He was just wondering how long Will would stay silent this time, when he felt the boy start next to him. He strained his ears, and heard the faint sound of crying coming from the darkness.