ARABELLA

Chapter Four: The Campfire

Prince Philip rode to the wall to listen to the ethereal voice as long as the summer lasted. But eventually the leaves began to fall and the weather turned cool. Finally the winter shows fell and the young girl's garden was hidden away until spring.

These days, Philip rode to the Great Hunts, sometimes on King Stefan's lands. It was well known that his father, King Hubert, was Stefan's closest friend. Therefore, Philip was allowed to hunt freely in Stefan's forests and meadows. Deer and elk were plentiful in these forests, and Philip came back to the camp every night, laden down with fresh meat.

It was one of these cold nights, that Philip was sharpening his sword by the fire. The other men in his camp were telling tall-tales and bragging about women over a keg of ale. But Philip was not listening to them this time. His mind was wandering, and he caught up with it in Stefan's courtyard in springtime.

Philip was quite ashamed of himself. He had missed the rides into the forests and meadows during the spring and summer. He had been too preoccupied with the maiden on the other side of that wall to even remember that there were forests in ride to in the first place.

Philip flushed as he remembered the voice of the young girl. One of his men, Gavin, noticed it and called out to the other men. "Oo, look at the Prince! He's having a bit of a thought about a lovely lass, I grant you!" The men chuckled at him and slapped him on the back. That brought Philip out of his reverie.

He calmly stood and bid them all goodnight, and gave Samson a carrot. Then he went to his bed in the largest tent. He lay there for some time, talking to himself. "You fool!" He laughed aloud. "She is but a child! Likely the child of some Lord and Lady of the court, but not of a King! Philip, boy, you are supposed to be wooing fair princesses! You should be slaying dragons, ogres! What would your men think?" He paused and a horrid thought took him. "What would your Father think? You'll lose the throne for sure!"

But Philip knew in his heart, although he did not fully understand it yet, that no princess could weave as magical a spell over him as this lovely child in King Stefan's courtyard.

He thought of his poor horse, Samson. He had not been fair to the loyal steed this year. They had always enjoyed their spring and summer rides together. He made a silent promise to the horse that this spring would be different. "Things will be back to normal from now on."

Or so he thought…