When Rumple and Bae emerge, bags in hand, from their tiny home, it's to a crowd of about thirty people gathered on the road and the edge of the lawn, a respectful distance from the royal carriage, yet close enough for everyone to catch a good look of His Majesty. A generation from now, these people will remember this moment with such clarity that they'll be able to imitate the King's walk (he favors his right foot just a little; the public assumes this is from an injury gained in battle or hunting, but Bae knows the secret: the King has bunions) or the sound of his voice (a nasal baritone with a rather round accent) or the gray in his beard. A generation from now, when they speak of this moment, it will still be with a sense of puzzlement as to how in the seven levels of hell did the King and his family choose to befriend the county coward—though, a generation from now, there will be even odder occurrences to discuss concerning the royals and their relationship with the spinner.
But they emerge (improper, some whisper; the spinner and his brat come out first, walkingaheadof the King-but the simple truth of that faux pas is that the King advised them to go on out to the carriage and give their bags to the driver while His Majesty writes a note to Belle and polishes off the last of the oatmeal). As they cross the lawn, Morraine shoves some spectators out of her path and runs up to Bae, throws him off balance as she throws her arms around his neck, and he hurriedly explains what's going on as his father tosses both bags up to the driver, who secures them under his box. Long-legged Lucas catches up to Rumple in a few strides as Rumple readies the step for the passengers' use.
"'Raine and me'll tend the lambs for you while you're gone." Lucas doesn't ask how long that might be; he's fought in a battle or two, so he knows how unpredictable warfare can be—and how risky. His forehead is lined with nervous wrinkles.
"Say goodbye to Fort and Rulf for me." Rumple's voice looses strength with each passing word. "And would you chop up some meat for the cat every morning."
"Of course." Lucas is aware that Midnight's age is impeding her hunting abilities.
Gretchen, having taken her turn hugging Bae, trots up. "We'll be praying to the gods for you and Bae's safe and quick return." Then as he thanks her, she does something improper: she leans into him and kisses his cheek.
A murmur ripples across the crowd and the spectators part like waves of wheat as the cottage door bangs shut and the King and the soldier strut forward. Maurice dips his head and murmurs good morning as he passes through; he's always been awkward in public appearances, as he'll one day confess to Rumple, but on days like today, his graciousness is bolstered by his sense of purpose. He's riding on to fulfill the responsibility that comes most naturally to him and to become the hero he's always dreamed of being. His confident excitement rolls off him like rays from the sun. Through his open bearskin coat the spectators catch glimpses of His Majesty's clothes, and they're perhaps a bit disappointed: no ermine or gold, he's wearing a red uniform that matches his guardsman's.
He also has a steaming mug in one brawny paw and a chunk of honey-slathered bread in the other. "Who has a horse?" he calls out, shifting the bread to sit atop the mug. As an eager young man volunteers, the King reaches into his coat and withdraws the note. "Deliver this to Her Highness as quickly as you can—without laming your horse. You will be paid handsomely when the letter is delivered."
The boy bows. "No pay required, sire. My honor."
"Good lad." Maurice hands the mug to his captain before climbing aboard the carriage; the captain follows; then Bae. With a last glance back at his home, anxiousness and reluctance unhidden in his expression, Rumple mounts the step and the driver latches the door.
"Bae!" Morraine clasps her hand to her mouth as the driver jumps up into his box.
Bae's face appears in the tiny window above the door and he can be heard shouting, "I'll write to you, as often as I can!"
She runs along beside the carriage when the driver shakes the reins. "I love you, Bae!"
"I love you, 'Raine!"
She's a strong young woman and she doesn't care that it's unseemly for her to run. Her skirts hitched up, she chases the carriage until it's come to the crossroads. Panting, she halts, waving her arm wildly.
In her first letter to Bae, which comes to his possession a month later, she describes spending that first night in Rumple's cottage, sitting in the rocking chair with Bae's blanket across her lap to keep her warm and Midnight stretched across her knees to keep her from crying. She understands, she assures him, that this is only the beginning. As a military wife, she will have many such nights, and she promises him she won't cry.
Rumple doesn't know what to say. Bae is all wide eyes and open ears as Fendral and Maurice, seated across from him, spread a map across their laps and discuss the latest news from the battlefield. Bae occasionally chips in with information; he knows the Bogamir territory pretty well now and as the talk thickens, he's able to put aside the fact that it's his monarch he's addressing. After all, Fendral, by whose side Bae has worked for four years now, is not intimated by His Majesty, and Bae's always taken his cues from his military superiors.
But Rumple doesn't know what to say. It's not so much that he's riding in the royal carriage, knee bumping into knee across from the King—it's that he's riding in a carriage with the man whose daughter he has declined to court. Even if they weren't riding off to war, the situation would be awkward.
But the King seems to have put the personal issues aside, as well he should, for lives are dependent upon the decisions that are made now. He starts to ask questions about ogres, and Rumple answers, hesitantly at first, worried that a wrong word might offend, but gradually he is drawn in to the conversation. He's discovering he has a knack for teaching, and in a pause in the planning he allows himself one tiny fantasy: himself and Belle, side by side in her school, moving easily down the aisles as they tutor the children, and occasionally casting quick glances at each other over the bent heads, and sharing proud smiles.
"We know nothing about their social structures," Fendral interrupts Rumple's daydream. "They seem to have leaders, but do they have rank? Families? Friends?"
And Rumple is snapped back into the present. As the carriage rocks and rumbles, he relates all that known of ogres' social lives—too bloody little. For all the time and energy that Aramore's scientists have devoted to studying sheep and crows, why have they, in their prejudice, neglected a creature three times the size of the average man?
Talking as the horses' hooves kick up road dust makes throats dry, and before long, Maurice is taking a swig from a waterskin—and then passing it over to Rumple. Their eyes meet over the hand-off, but Rumple can't read the emotion behind Maurice's expression. Does he hate Rumple for disappointing Belle? Or is he relieved that Belle has reason to move on to another suitor? Or, in the months that have passed since Rumple's visit to Avonlea, has Maurice forgotten about the unborn romance?
"Drink your fill, gentlemen," Maurice advises. "We have plenty."
Rumple drinks from the waterskin, then shares it with Fendral, who shares it with Bae, and the conversation resumes.
They shelter in a barn overnight, being too far from the nearest village to take their respite in an inn. Maurice doesn't identify himself; when he asks the farmer for permission, he claims to be a soldier, accompanied by other soldiers on their way to battle. In the darkness, the farmer doesn't see the royal insignia on the carriage, so he doesn't come outside to greet his guests; he just waves his hand toward the well. "Help yourself to water. You can corral your horses with mine." He starts to close the door in their faces, but pauses to add, "Don't start any fires. I can't afford to lose that barn."
"Certainly not, sir." As Maurice turns away, Rumple catches a twinkle in his eyes.
They make their beds in hay and pass around a sack of biscuits, apples and sausages. With cold well water, it's a welcome meal, and they go to bed immediately, intending to be back on the road at dawn. "This is exciting, Papa," Bae comments as he snuggles into the hay. "The Stiltskin men fighting side by side."
"Side by side," Rumple echoes weakly.
Sleepless, Rumple forces himself not to disturb his companions by tossing and turning, but he soon realizes any noise he might make will go unheard over Maurice's snores. He would find this amusing if it weren't for ogres' sensitive hearing. He sets his mind to work on cures for snoring; if he doesn't find one, they're going to have to make sure Maurice never falls asleep within a mile of an ogre.
As the sky shifts from black to gray, the King snores on but Rumple can detect a change in the breathing of his other three companions. Soon they'll be stirring, and before the sun has risen they'll harness the horses and after a bellyful of cold biscuits and jerky, they'll climb back into the carriage. Rumple wonders about Maurice, who seems to thrive in this element, despite the absence of castle comforts. Wondering about Maurice makes him wonder about Belle: if she had her way, she would be here too. He knows her well enough to be certain of that; she may share her mother's gentle soul but she has her father's warrior heart. It's because he knows that about her that he dared to request her involvement in this expedition, though he agrees completely that she must be kept safe at a distance from the fighting—not because she's a woman, for about thirty percent of the archers and ten percent of the medics are women, and by all reports they fight as gamely and effectively as their male counterparts. Rumple's feeling that Belle must remain apart from the action is (mostly) due to her position as heir apparent. If her father, who feels he must stand alongside his generals in the final battle and be on hand to treat for peace, should fall, the heir must immediately assume the throne; for the sake of the nation, there must be no break in leadership.
At least, that's what Rumple tells himself: it's his patriotism that makes him agree with Maurice that Belle is not to join them on the battlefield.
A cow's deep moo signals Bae, who sits bolt upright, immediately fully awake. Rumple enjoys watching him work: he's so far different from the grumbling sleepyhead he is at home. "Morning, Lieutenant Papa," he whispers as he yanks on his coat and crawls out of the hay. He scrambles, quietly, down the ladder to the barn floor, and when he returns he's hauling a bucket of ice-filmed water. He cracks the ice to fill their waterskins, then he rouses Fendral, who takes advantage of the water to wash up, apparently undisturbed by the cold biting against his skin. Rumple follows suit, though he shivers; in the years before Midnight changed their lives, he and Bae went through many a winter morning fireless, but a decade has passed since then; he now can afford firewood. The luxury has softened him, he's embarrassed to admit.
During the washing up, the driver, unconcerned with cleanliness, leaves the loft to tend to his horses. By the time Fendral rouses the King, the team is hitched and waiting, stamping their feet in the snow. Clouds of breath issue from their dripping nostrils. Half-asleep, Maurice grunts a greeting to them and pats their necks before climbing into the carriage. Once the vehicle lurches forward, he dozes, his head resting against the carriage wall. Rumple dares to look him directly in the face then. In just two brief meetings, Rumple feels he's come to know the plain-spoken King pretty well. A two-way respect has developed, Rumple for the man beneath the bear coat, and the King for the inventive spinner. It's a respect that began when each man recognized in the other a father devoted to his child, and grew as each man came to perceive the unlikely strengths of the other. A lifetime of dodging bullies has made Rumple perceptive about people, and so he's confident of his interpretation of the relationship between himself and the King. But, though the King respects the spinner, that doesn't answer the question of whether Maurice could ever like Rumple. As Rumple begins to nod off too under the rhythmic rocking of the carriage, he's quite sure that once Maurice see him in battle—quaking and fainting, if not outright running away—any warm feeling the King may feel now for Rumple will be shattered.
It's probably for the best. The King will then put a quick end to any daydreams about Rumple Belle might still harbor.
Eudes, Duke of Bogamir, rides out with some of his own home guard to greet the royal carriage as it enters the duchy. The condition of their horses and their clothes makes it obvious that this is a poor land, having been ravaged by ogres longer than any other; Maurice's dismay shows as he scans the faces of Eudes' guards—all of them over fifty years of age. But as he dismounts, bows deeply with a sweep of his arm, and greets the King in a hardy voice, Eudes seems to think his duchy certainly capable of providing everything necessary for a royal visit. One might think, as he and Maurice walk side by side to the castle, that this is just a social call, as Eudes boasts of the fat pheasants and sows that have been butchered for the feast that now awaits.
When they sit down to table, Maurice's group refrains from remarking upon the stringiness of the meat and the sourness of the wine. No one would rob the Duke and Duchess of their right to pretend to be rich. At least the beds are comfortable.
Over breakfast, Eudes promises to provide twenty guards for the battle. He will join in himself, though his weak eyesight makes him useless as a bowman; he can blow a whistle, though. He wouldn't miss this last battle for the world. The Duchess Gidie promises to take good care of Princess Belle when she arrives and keep her safe; even if she were not their heir apparent, her knowledge of ogres makes her important to the success of this venture.
The royal carriage and horses are left behind, being unsuitable for the battlefield. The Duke provides horses for his guests. Fendral and Maurice exchange a worried glance as Eudes and his guards mount up. "We'll need to get them proper mounts and weapons when we arrive," Maurice mutters.
"We could get there faster by walking," Fendral returns.
For his part, Rumple is secretly content with the nag he's given. He's in no hurry to arrive at Domin Canyon, where in a pincer move Generals Darain, Celvin and Carac are driving the last herd of ogres. When the creatures are trapped in the canyon, the attack will begin. When the party stops at a river for lunch, Rumple nearly collapses as he dismounts. Bae rescues him before he can fall. He blames his bad ankle and unpracticed horsemanship, but in truth, a good part of the weakness in his legs can be attributed to the weakness in his heart. His legs shake just as hard when, two hours later, they mount up again.
On the sad beasties they've been given, the ride to Domin Canyon takes two days. It's nightfall when they arrive at the southern rim, where Darain and his archers are camped. The campfires have been kept small, lest a wayward wind might carry their scent to the ogre herd hunkered down at the canyon floor. The men talk in hushed tones, for ogres, as Belle has warned the army, can hear sounds as far as a mile away. As soon as his boots touch ground, Maurice releases his horse to a squire and moves through the clusters of fighters, shaking hands with every one and wishing them luck. Bae goes to work immediately as well, assisting in tending the tired horses. Large dark structures loom over the north edge of the camp; Fendral explains that these are cages to hold any ogres taken captive; they've tipped some of their arrows with a potion that, tests have proven, will put a full-sized ogre to sleep for up to an hour. Rumple has doubts on both parts-that any ogres will be taken captive and that they can be held in a wood-and-iron cage. But he won't dash the ice water of doubt on the army's hopes; he merely stares at the structures, allowing Fendral to wander over to a fire to accept a mug of tea and hunker down to discuss plans.
Rumple lowers himself to the ground at the outer edge of the camp, where firelight won't flicker on his face. He draws his knees to his chest to warm himself. A faint snow is falling and it dampens his hair. He licks his lips as he watches the soldiers drink and eat, but he doesn't allow himself to ask for refreshment. It's safer if the others are unaware of the sort of man who's ridden into their midst.
Except Maurice won't let that be. After talking to every soldier, he's wound his way back to Rumple. Rumple attempts to clamber to his feet, but his ankle buckles and he lands ingloriously on his butt. With a deep sigh he gives up. Maurice pretends not to notice; he flops down too, next to Rumple. With a gesture he summons Bae, who comes running and bows. "Fetch us something to eat, lad, with my thanks." Bae bows and starts to run off, but Maurice halts him. "Oh, and find my lieutenant here a uniform. Size medium."
Bae's grin dances in the firelight. "Aye, sire. One officer's uniform, size medium."
"AHome Guarduniform," Maurice insists.
Bae's grin is now as bright as the firelight. "Aye, sire!"
When Bae returns, he's accompanied by the squires Favian and Tristan, who bear plates and mugs of hot tea for the King and the new lieutenant; Bae himself carries a red uniform draped over his arm. He bows to his new superior. "Your uniform, sir. May I assist you in dressing? We can go into the officers' tent over there."
Rumple now manages to get to his feet, the pain chased away by the pride in his son's eyes. "Thank you, Squire."
"Wait a minute. Before you go, I got to commission you first." Maurice rubs his back as he stands. "This cold's settling into my bones." He accepts the mugs from Tristan, gives one to Rumple and downs the contents of the other in a gulp. Shivering, he admits, "I needed that. Go, lad, and fetch Captain Fendral." As Tristan takes off like a shot, Maurice informs Rumple, "I could knight you instead, but I thought you'd like this better."
"Yes, sire." Rumple can't help but beam. "Much better."
"That's how I'd feel about it too." When Fendral arrives, the King announces, "Captain, I want you to witness this, since the Lieutenant here's going to be under your command."
Fendral straightens his coat and stands tall for the ceremony. "Yes, sire."
"Rumplestiltskin of Ramsgate." Maurice proceeds formally. "In recognition of your contributions thus far to the war effort and your contributions to come, I hereby bestow upon you the rank of lieutenant in my Home Guard." He shakes Rumple's hand. "Glad to have you with us, Lieutenant."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
Fendral offers his hand too. "Congratulations, Lieutenant. You'll join the medical squad effective immediately."
"Let's eat. I'm starved." Maurice lowers himself to a flat boulder and Favian furnishes him with a filled plate. "You might want to eat too before you put on the uniform. It's been ten hours since lunch."
"If it's all the same, I'd like to put my uniform on first." Rumple is grinning at Bae. "With the squire's assistance."
Maurice cocks his head thoughtfully. "That's how I'd feel about it too."