The Ultimate Swashbuckler

He looked like the consummate soldier. Rugged, powerful, unbelievably masculine. Handsome if you asked me. Have you seen him? People would ask. I would keep my silence. Not their business. And I was not about to betray his confidence. He is the ultimate swashbuckler in battle, men said. He makes my heart sigh, women said. I smiled, keeping my counsel, adding nothing to rumors. His helmet and shield are magnificent; you can see them flash in battle. He leaves no prisoners; except women and children. He has God on his shoulders; the men follow him gladly. Is he the son of the king? Where does he hail from? His long hand-knitted green scarf is legendary. Some armies see it coming, and surrender. I smirk thinking of it as I hear the tales. For he is Frederick, the son of a miller and a housewife. And he calls me Mom.