Janet:
From here ... When Drech had walked a distance away that he was sure the rest of the party could not hear them, he addressed Sir Elisedd. Maybe I have missed it, but it feels all of a sudden that Drech addressed Sir E's Latin ability. It feels out of the blue.
Ah! I see! What if I get rid of the scene break?
While the servants made fires, Drech and Orson talked.
“You shall have to be careful with this charade, Drech,” Orson said. “A man's training, upbringing, habits, always come out.”
“I was born a prince and am playing one,” Drech said. “I doubt anyone will suspect I am more, unless one of the knights calls me Dominus' or an Eire has seen me before in Albion.”
As he spoke, Drech realized that both situations were highly likely. The sooner he got to Teamhair and addressed the Ard Ri the better it would be.
“Perhaps,” Orson mused. “Yet you have adapted to your role as Pendragon, and I believe that does come out in your behavior.”
Drech could not help but smile at his mentor's words. Less than three and a half years before, he had to convince Orson that he was ready to claim his inheritance.
But a new thought spun in Drech's mind.
“Excuse, me, Lord,” he said. “Captain Samyl, Sir Elisedd, I am in need of your assistance.”
The two men rose immediately and followed Drech away from the camp. When they had walked far enough away that Drech was sure the rest of the party could not hear them, he addressed Sir Elisedd.
“You read in Latin, Sir-Knight,” Drech said.
Sir Elisedd knight hesitated, knitting his brow in confusion. “I… do…”
“A Gewissae knight,” Drech said. “A Saxon 'ridend' learn to read in Latin. I do not believe it.”
“I had an excellent education, Dominus.”
“Too excellent, Sir. Speaking Latin and Brythonic one might expect in this age, but to read so fluently in Latin? You must have had the best education in Gewisland!”
“King Acca paid for my tutoring,” Sir Elisedd replied. “He was most generous.”
“That is generous,” Drech mused. “That he should pay for a knight to have a better education then many a prince.”
The Giwessae's jaw dropped and for a moment he could not utter a sound. “I… do not–”
“Chose your words carefully, Sir,” Drech warned.
Sir Elisedd sighed, surrendering. “I am no knight. I am a prince. I am the Prince of Tiwton.”
“King Acca's heir,” Drech mused.
“Yea,” Sir Elisedd muttered, reverting to the language of the Saxons.
“You should have told me.”
“I obeyed my father's wishes and joined your cavalry in secret,” Sir Elisedd replied. “How could I then tell you I was a prince?”
“You could because you had to,” Drech said. “Lord Orson did not choose you. He picked all of the other men to be in my Guard, but not you. I picked you. I told Orson that I wanted you to be in my Guard because I trusted you with my life.”
“And now you no longer.”
“How can I? When dozens of princes on both islands want me dead, and here I find a secret prince in my own Guard!”
Sir Elisedd nodded in silence.
“Go back to the others,” Drech said. “We shall not speak on this now.”
The Gewissae went without another word, and Drech turned to Captain Samyl.
“What do you think?” Drech asked.
“I do not know, Dominus,” the Captain replied.
“Neither do I.”
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