A Merry Band of Bandits

A Merry Band of Bandits

Uploaded 9 October, 2011

Copyright 2011 SamRider

Chapter One

"Joseph!" The King bellowed, his bulging, wine-filled belly jiggled up and down. A boy in lavish clothing crept nervously into the room, bowing on one knee before his King.

"Yes, Father?" He asked tentatively, raising his eyes to gaze at the King's fleshy, bright red face.

"Your tutor has informed me of your poor work in your studying."

"Tutor told me I was doing well."

"Well is not good enough! I will not have a bumbling fool for a son!" The King yelled, the wine glass in his hand trembling and his voice echoing through the chamber.

We have one for a King, Joseph thought bitterly.

"Your lyre and violin skills are poor at best. You're a Prince, not a commoner. You must perfect them." Remarked Joseph's father disapprovingly. "Your maths are terrible, your literature horrid. Your handwriting is despicable. I expect more of you, lad. Do you want to be known as the stupidest Prince to ever be heir to this Kingdom? I will not allow it! I will not be able to tolerate the shame! And you do not want to upset your Father, now, do you?"

"No, Father," Joseph mumbled studiously. As his drunken Father babbled on, all Joseph could think about was how well his studies were proceeding. Tutor had commended him on being 'The smartest lad in all the Kingdom'.

"Are you listening to me?" The Kind roared, his wine glass dangerously close to toppling from his hand. He took another swig, signaling for a servant to come refill it.

"Yes, Father," Joseph replied sullenly.

"Liar!" His father hissed. He leaned forward and slapped the Prince clean across the face.

Joey fell to the ground, closing his eyes for a second before his father pulled him back up by the collar.

"Idiot boy! Do not lie to me!" He struck Joseph again, and hissed "Get out of my sight, you bloody fool!"

Joey scrambled to his feet, cupping his cheek and racing towards the exit. He barely missed the wine glass shattering against the wall, a mere inch from his head.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

By the next morning, a purple bruise had blossomed on Joey's cheek. During riding class, a crowd of giggling girls asked him about it.

"What happened, Your Highness?" Purred a pretty brunette, stroking his arm.

"I bet you got it in a fight!" A blonde murmured dreamily, fluttering her lashes.

"Did you win?"

"Did you fight him off?"

"I bet you were so brave," Their voices were syrupy, sickly sweet.

"Sorry ladies, I must go," Joey was a shy boy; his confidence was low. His father had always made sure of that.

Besides, they don't think I'm handsome, Joey thought. They just want the power.

He lost track of time, cantering through the woods. Soon, night had fallen, though Joey was sure it had just been midday.

He was terribly, terribly lost.

There was a sudden movement in the trees. A girl dropped down; probably around Joey's age. She had dark hair and a lithe body, like a cat's. Quick and agile; dark and dangerous.