His Own Squire
“Maybe,” Emrys said. “When we’re back in Caerleon. I can look in the library for…something.”
Lila smiled wanly. “That would be great.”
Raised voices up ahead startled both of them. Emrys murmured something soft, and a sphere of light appeared on his palm. He cocked his fist, ready to throw it.
Lila had to focus on the voices before she could decipher the words. She didn’t think she would ever be fluent at Old English, and she hoped she didn’t stick around Caerleon long enough to become fluent.
Emrys spurred the horse forward, but soon it became evident that no one was in danger.
Arthur was off his horse and embracing an armor-clad man. He was grinning fiercely, and Lila wondered if kings were allowed to look like giddy school boys.
“Lancelot!” Arthur cried. “It’s good to see you. We could’ve used your help earlier today – Hengist’s men made another rally at us.”
“My liege,” Lancelot said, “did you give Master Emrys his own squire?”