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father at the business of governing. He stayed, listening, while Lot flattered the embassies and cajoled the messengers of dissatisfied kings, and took one party to a blood feud off drinking or hunting while Lot persuaded the other, by threats and promises, to compromise and make peace. He attended while old men made endless complaints to Lot about the increased tribute and proclaimed their masters’ nobility and long support as reasons for not paying it, and he tried not to fall asleep while Lot issued warnings and blandishments in return. But presently Agravain found statecraft boring, and complaining that our father paid no attention to any of his ideas, turned once more to his weapons and his own friends. Lot was annoyed at first—Agravain had understood very little of what he had heard, and on the occasions he did suggest some course of action, it was invariably the wrong one—but Agravain was still the chosen heir to the kingship, and Lot was determined that he should know the chief men and clans of the kingdom, and how to deal with them. However, our father concluded that Agravain was still the chosen heir to the kingship, and Lot was determined that he should know the chief men and clans of the kingdom, and how to deal with them. However, our father concluded that Agravain was young, that the hunting was good that year, and it was excusable for a young man in such circumstances to tire of the talk of his elders. So he allowed Agravain to do as he pleased, knowing there would be many more chances for him to learn the art of government. For my part, I was not surprised that Agravain preferred his hunting trips. He needed action, quick and preferably violent, simply to keep himself occupied. Statecraft offers exercise for cunning, organization, eloquence and subtlety, rarely for direct action. My father was more cunning than a fox, and enjoyed the complicated processes by which he kept his subject kings obedient, kept them paying the tribute, prevented their wars and blood feuds while at the same time holding their favor and thus his own position. Agravain did not understand the delicate nature of Lot’s “game,” tired quickly, and ran off to seek entertainment. He went a-hunting, but he did not forget me.
    A few weeks after the warband returned, towards the end of November, he came to the yard of the Boys’ House while I was at weapons practice. I was working with the throwing spears again. It is harder to throw a spear straight while running than it is to master a thrusting spear or a sword, but important to be able to do so. Thus, I spent most of my practice time hurling spears at a straw target, sometimes running towards it, sometimes standing still. I was standing this time.
    Agravain walked up behind me and stood watching as I made three casts at the target. All of them hit, one in the center. Agravain frowned. “You’ve been working at these, this summer, haven’t you?”
    I turned to him, flushing a little with pride. I had not yet shown off my new skill before my father and brother, and I was eager to. I nodded. “Yes, an hour a day with the throwing spears, and an hour with the thrusting spear or sword and shield, beyond the training time. I’m better than I used to be.”
    He nodded, then scowled. “You’re better, and that’s good. But if you try to throw like that in a battle you’ll be run through…”
    â€œDurrough says there’s no harm in standing like this, and he’s the trainer…”
    â€œHe doesn’t expectmuch from you. Put your leftfoot further back and your left arm closer to your body. You have to hold a shield, you know!”
    â€œBut…”
    â€œOh, by the sun, why are you arguing? I’m trying to help you.” He grinned.
    Was he? The grin faded as I continued to stare at him, and he scowled again, fists clenching and unclenching restlessly. I took the stance he suggested and hurled