Excerpted from the first chapter:

Montfield

"But the sorceress avenged herself on the prince by imprisoning him in a stone tower without a roof. Deprived of shelter he was scorched by the sun and soaked by the rain and snow. And the sorceress commanded a raven to fly over the tower once a day and let fall a thimbleful of water and a morsel of food as black and bitter as wormwood..."

Tanko fell silent. The other boys sitting beside him on the tree trunk stared at him expectantly. Florin could feel the prince's parching thirst, the taste of wormwood on his tongue.

"What then?" Senna insisted. "What happened to the prince after that?"

Lost in thought, Tanko bent and picked up a round piece of moss from the forest floor. Stroking it as if it were a furry little animal, he went on:

"The prince groaned aloud in his distress, but all that answered him was the silence of the sky and the howling of the wind. And the sorceress, having considered how to increase his sufferings, commanded an eagle to -- "

The boys gave a jump, startled by a loud snapping of twigs in the undergrowth.

"What an impressive sight," said a familiar voice. The four youngsters sprang to their feet at the sound of it. "There they sit like a row of ringdoves, the future masters of Moltovia, shuddering at some old wives' tale. Why trouble to go to the exercise yard? Let old Count Ursio teach his straw dummies to fence!"

The bushes parted and a gray-haired man stepped into the clearing. Short and wiry, he was nimble and vigorous in his movements and had a face like tanned leather. Although Count Ursio was very old -- or so he seemed to his pupils -- he still wore the leather tunic and iron shin armor of a swordsman. He proceeded to examine the four youngsters like an officer inspecting his troops. Having looked daggers at each of them in turn, he came to a halt in front of Tanko.

"Why not finish your story?" he demanded, rocking belligerently on his heels.

Tanko stared at the tips of his toes in sheepish silence.

Count Ursio drew a deep breath. "Teller of fairy tales!" He spat out the words like the coarsest of insults. "You're nothing but a dreamer!" he barked like a furious mastiff. "Go take your tales and sit with the washerwomen! It's no wonder any farmer's lad can unhorse you! You aim to be one of the king's knights? A fairground huckster -- that's all you're fit for! I'll give you a handbell, then you can join the clowns and fire-eaters and entertain the rabble in the streets!"

Radbod, who was standing beside Tanko, tittered despite himself. He would have done better not to, because Count Ursio promptly rounded on him.

"And what of you, my boy?" He pressed Radbod's head back with two fingers under his chin to force the youth to look him in the eye. "What will your noble father say if I send you home to your fine castle? What if I advise him to tie you to your nursemaid's apron strings for another few years before he sends you back to the royal school of knighthood?"

Although nearly thirteen, Radbod was -- much to his sorrow -- short for his age and slender. He swallowed this insult with his lips pressed tightly together.

"But here's the biggest buffoon of all!" The old count left Radbod and drew himself up in front of Senna, who was almost a head taller. "You think you're the best of this wretched bunch? You hope to succeed Sturmius as the prince's bodyguard?" The louder his voice became, the more Senna seemed to shrink. "Tell me something: What would you have done if a horde of vile Vinlanders had burst in on Tanko's fairy tale? Uttered a spell and turned them into toads?"

Senna tried to speak. "But Count Ursio, there aren't any Vinlanders so close to Montfield Castle, you know that full well."

"Look over there!" barked the old fencing master, With outstretched arm, he indicated a tall youth leaning on his sword at the edge of the clearing. "Is Sturmius sitting down with you fools? No, he's keeping watch as befits the prince's bodyguard. He's a dependable fellow!"

Sturmius gripped the hilt of his sword, trying not to look too proud of himself.

The old count walked past them all again. "A washerwoman..." he growled contemptuously, "a babe in arms... a buffoon..." He clasped his hands together as if in prayer. "Holy St, George, noblest of warriors, assist me! See to it that these youngsters grow up at last!"

Florin bit his lip to suppress a grin. "You've forgotten me, Count Ursio," he said politely.

The count gave a little bow. "It does not behoove me to rebuke you, Your Highness," he said. "You must always set your companions a good example -- no one knows that better than you."

He took an hourglass from the pocket of his tunic and set it down on a tree stump. "You'll all be at the exercise yard before the glass empties," he growled. "Complete with armor, swords and shields -- or you'll regret it. And don't take it into your heads to turn the clock back!" With a last menacing glare, he disappeared into the trees.

"Brrr!" Radbod shook himself like a wet dog after a rainstorm.

"Trust the old fox to steal up on us on foot!" said Senna. "We'd have heard his horse half a mile away."

"If he had his way, we'd never leave the castle," Tanko said plaintively, "and would go to bed armed to the teeth."

"Count Ursio sleeps in full armor every night," Florin added. "What on earth will he do if peace really comes?"

"He'll invent some new threat," Tanko predicted, "and bully us even more. To Count Ursio, sword drill and swordplay are as necessary as breathing."

"It looks as if we'll be fencing in the rain," Radbod said, with an appraising glance at the sky. "But who cares?" He mimicked Ursio's voice. "What will you do in battle, you milksops? Ask the vile Vinlanders to hold off until the weather improves?"

Tanko cast a worried glance at the sand in the hourglass, which had run nearly halfway through. "We'd better go."

"There's no hurry." Cool as a cucumber, Senna produced an ivory pin from his pocket. Having carefully dipped it in some pitch oozing from the tree trunk, he bent over Count Ursio's hourglass. "First I want to know if he survives.

"If who survives?" Tanko stared at him.

"The prince in the tower, of course," Senna replied as he neatly thrust the pin through the hourglass's leather case. The pitch clogged the trickle of sand, which stopped abruptly. "Just imagine, a thimbleful of water and a morsel of wormwood a day! Our prince grumbles if ten of his favorite dishes fail to appear on the table at once." He nudged Florin in the ribs. "It's a miracle you remain so thin, Your Highness."

"Food certainly sticks to your ribs," Florin retorted. "Three years at Montfield Castle have doubled your girth as well as your height!"

"Don't be envious!" Senna withdrew the pin with a jerk. "Well, friends," he said contentedly, "now we've solved that problem. what would you say to making a little detour on the way to the exercise yard?"

"The hideaway!" Florin and Radbod exclaimed together.

The hideaway was an abandoned hermit's hut that stood not far from Montfield Castle, concealed by a thicket of fir saplings and bramble bushes. The boys had stumbled across it by chance while hunting deer -- a meeting place during the winter days to come.

"But we can't!" Tanko eyed the useless hourglass apprehensively.