He glanced at the sun. Time had stolen away while he stretched himself on the rack of his yesterdays. Best quit fooling around, he thought. Wouldn’t do for the King to be late for his game of Captures.

He encountered the Panthers on the road. Had he been anyone else, they would have ragged him mercilessly about the Guards’ chances. The Panthers were young and exciting and on a hot streak. They were the darlings of the sweet young things who devoured winners and scorned losers. They expected to be on top for years.

One bold lad suggested as much.

Ragnarson grinned. “And you might be in for a surprise, boy. Us old dogs know a few tricks.”

Youth received his assertion with its usual disdain.

Was there ever a time when I was that young, that self-certain, that positive about my world and my answers? he wondered. He did not remember being that way.

They parted to go to their respective castles.

The opening minutes of the game would be free of irregularities. The judges assembled the teams at their castles. They counted heads and took names. They sounded horns when the teams were ready, and winded them again to signal the opening of play.

The stretching of rules generally began after the teams spread out to defend and attack.

Bragi’s team had cheated ahead of time. It brought to Captures some of his tricks of government. In preparation for the Panthers, a hot-blooded, round-heeled spy had been deployed.

Bragi was late. He gave the judges his name and joined Trebilcock, who clung to the edge of the gang. The youth wore a hangdog look. The others were intent on their spy’s boyfriend.

“They’re gonna bull it. They’re gonna punch up the middle with everybody,” the man said. He was team captain. His friends called him Slugbait. “They’re gonna hold a deep defense of like six guys two hundred yards from their castle. The rest are gonna swamp us, then just march back with our balls. They figure they gonna hoo-miliate us on account of we’re a bunch of old buzzards and we won’t be able to keep up. We got a couple ways to go. I figure the best is we go them one better. We don’t guard our castle. We all of us go over there, swamp their defensemen, grab their balls. We have five guys sneak their balls around the flanks. All the rest of us jump them while they’re coming back. Pile on and take our balls back away. Snakeman? What you jumping about?”

“They’re going to know they been taken when they don’t find nobody in our castle, Slug. So all we’re going to do is turn the field around. Then they start running us. They’ll wear us down. Then it’s good-bye ballgame.”