I stepped away from him and sheathed my sword. Finally, King Tumtry decided to intervene. He struggled to his feet. “Guards, take my son and bind his hands,” he commanded. Though his voice was not strong, it carried, and his subjects politely went wild as three strapping fellows overwhelmed the shouting Geoffrey and carried him off to stand beside Wilhemina. Not surprisingly, she shied away from him, but she wisely kept her mouth clamped shut. If the guards had been so well able to handle the belligerent prince this whole time, why had King Tumtry not given his order before? He could have saved me the trouble and his son the humiliation of being defeated at the point of my steel. Not that it had been much trouble. What an opportunity to flex this human physique to its fascinating, invigorating limits! I wouldn’t mind doing it again … but of course I never would. As Geoffrey began to hurl insults and accusations at his father, at me, and at everyone else in the vicinity, the king ordered, with sadness behind his stern tone, “Bind his mouth, too.”
