Keeper of the Grail Page 6

  I stepped a few feet away from Little John, brandishing the sword through the air in a crossing pattern. I knew nothing of swords, but it seemed a fine weapon. Not too heavy, but it had some heft to it.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said.

  Little John reached out and took the sword carefully in his hand.

  “Take the grip deeper in your fist, like this,” he said. “Make sure that your hand fits snugly under the guards for protection. Here, let me show you.”

  So Little John gave me my first brief lesson in swordplay, teaching me to use the weapon correctly so that I didn’t accidentally injure myself.

  After just a few minutes of these exercises, my arm had begun to ache, and I told Little John that I must return with Dauntless to the Commandery. To my surprise he took a scabbard from the workbench, sheathed the sword, then handed it back to me.

  “It is yours,” he said.

  My jaw dropped open. “What? No, sir, I couldn’t possibly accept it.”

  Little John laughed and held out his hand for the bag of coins Sir Thomas had given me. Taking the pouch, he put it in a pocket of his apron. “There now! You’ve already paid me! Sir Thomas always hires me to make a new sword for his squires. He ordered this one several months ago, and I’ve been working on it since his last squire left the Order.”

  “Sir, I don’t know what to say,” I sputtered. “Thank you. Thank you very much. It is a fine weapon. I’m grateful for your work.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Tristan—and a word of advice. Keep that sword handy. If you run into a couple of ruffians like you did earlier, don’t be afraid to show it. Keep it clean and sharp. Care for it and it will take care of you.” He smiled.

  “I will, sir. I promise. And thank you again. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I must return to the Commandery. Sir Thomas will be waiting. There is much work to be done before we sail.”

  “Good luck to you, Tristan. Sir Thomas is one of the finest men I’ve ever known. You’ll do well as his squire. Listen to what he has to teach you. Trust him. Good luck to you. I hope to see you again someday.”

  Little John waved as I started up the street. Every few steps, I touched the hilt of the sword now hanging at my belt. In my mind I saw myself following Sir Thomas and the Templars into battle with my sword held high.

  Reaching the crowd of the marketplace I noticed that the guards were still in evidence. In fact there were now six of them, and they were definitely shadowing me. I could not fathom their interest, but something in their manner made me uneasy. I quickened my pace but was slowed by the midday crowd in the market. It is not easy to quickly move a stallion through hordes of people.

  As we turned at the end of the road that led to the Commandery, the crowd pressed around us. I took a tighter grip on Dauntless’ reins, not wanting him to spook, but compared with the noise and confusion of battle, the marketplace seemed not to affect him at all.

  Out of the corner of my eye I noticed two of the guards draw closer, falling into step a few paces behind me.

  The crowd was noisy and I made only halting progress. As I came past a row of vendor stalls, a man pushing a cart of vegetables crossed in front of us and I had to pull Dauntless to a halt, waiting for the man to clear out of the way.

  Forced to stop, I was about to turn to face the King’s Guards directly behind me when over the din of the marketplace I heard a noise that left me frozen in fear: the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard.

  11

  Grasping the hilt of my sword, I hesitated. I couldn’t decide whether to turn and face my attackers or take flight. I felt something horrible was about to happen. When the man with the vegetable cart abruptly moved out of the way, I was startled to see Sir Basil standing in the street in front of me.

  “Tristan!” His voice bellowed over the noise. “I was wondering what happened to you!”

  A sense of relief washed over me. Taking a quick glance to my rear, I noticed that the King’s Guards had disappeared, melting away in the crowd. My breath returned to normal, but the prickly feeling of fear still crawled across my flesh. Why were they following me? Even more worrisome, had they been about to attack me? Were they there to take me into custody? Had I done something in our brief meeting that had offended the King? I couldn’t think of an answer.

  “Sir Thomas wishes you to return to the Commandery immediately,” Sir Basil said.

  For a moment, I considered telling him about the guards and what had happened in the marketplace, but I realized that I had no real evidence of anything. Perhaps I had been mistaken? I stood there for a moment, trying to figure it all out. Sir Basil noticed the puzzled expression on my face. “What’s wrong, boy?” he asked.

  “I…I thought I…Nothing, sire. Nothing. I will return to the Commandery at once,” I said.

  “You’ll find Sir Thomas waiting for you at the practice field,” said Sir Basil, winking at me as he headed off on whatever other business had brought him here. I managed to return to the Commandery, Dauntless in tow, without further incident. I wondered if I should tell Sir Thomas what had transpired in the marketplace. As I reached the practice field, I thought it best to keep it to myself. Indeed I would be hard-pressed to even identify any of the guards who had followed me that day. Maybe I would tell him later, after I had had time to think over the incident more clearly.

  The practice field lay behind the Commandery, not far from our quarters. I watched as a knight led his horse through its paces, charging first one way, then the other around a series of posts that had been set in the ground. At last, the knight, who was carrying a steel-tipped lance, rose slightly on the stirrups. He spurred the horse forward, the lance held tight against his side, then thrust it forward through a steel ring that hung from the target. The ring detached from the string that held it and slid down the length of the lance that the knight now pointed skyward. He reined his horse to a stop, then trotted back to the target. Lowering the lance, his squire stepped forward to remove the ring and retie it to the post.

  “Well done, Brother Wesley,” Sir Thomas called out.

  He noticed my approach then. “There you are. I see Little John has delivered my gift.”

  “Sire, I had no idea. I’m not sure if I can accept such a…”

  Sir Thomas raised his hand. “No fuss, lad. You are my squire. It is my duty to see that you are properly equipped. The sword pleases you, I take it?”

  “Yes, sire, it is a beautiful weapon,” I said.

  Sir Thomas beamed a smile. “Good. Excellent. Well then, now would seem the perfect time to begin your training. Follow me.”

  In a corner of the field stood a weapons rack. Sir Thomas pulled a large battle sword from it and handed it to me. It was longer and heavier than my own sword, and I found it difficult to lift, let alone hold.

  “You will need to practice and work to gain strength in your arms and upper body,” he said. “The battlefield is no place to learn that you can’t lift or move something at a crucial moment.”

  Sir Thomas returned the battle sword to the rack, picking up two wooden practice swords instead, and handed one to me.

  “Grip it like this,” he said. He held the hilt of the sword out so that I could see how both of his hands curled around it, the forefinger of his left hand slightly overlapping the little finger of the right hand. I took the same grip on the sword and held it in front of me at the ready.

  Thus began my first practice with the sword. Sir Thomas was a magnificent swordsman, and after a while, I was covered with welts and bruises from being pummeled by his wooden sword. It flashed and darted at me like a serpent’s tongue. If I managed to stop or parry one of his thrusts, he whacked back at me even faster twice or three times.

  From that first moment on the field, practice and work became the essential elements of my life. Over the next few weeks, I immersed myself in the world of the Templars, quickly learning what was expected of me. As in my previous life, there was work and plenty of it. Afte
r the first few days I learned that whereas the monks concerned themselves with growing their crops and praying to God, the Templars were all about preparing to fight. In fact, Sir Basil said the life of a Templar knight was divided into three stages: getting ready to fight, fighting and getting ready to fight again.

  On a typical day, we squires took our weapons practice in the afternoon. It was during such a session that Sir Hugh made another effort to bully me.

  We were drilling with the wooden training swords under the watchful eye of Master Sergeanto LeMaire. A squat yet powerfully built man, he was a stern taskmaster on the practice field, but an excellent instructor. On this day he led us through our paces, having us practice swings and jabs, then paired us off to work on sparring. I was teamed with Quincy.

  Sir Hugh came strolling by the line of squires as if he were a general inspecting his troops. At first I thought he would ignore me as he stopped to instruct a pair of the squires on their technique. Watching him from the corner of my eye, I had to admit that Sir Hugh was an excellent swordsman, perhaps as good as Sir Thomas. He was graceful and moved well, and I realized he would be a formidable foe in a fight. As he moved closer to us, Quincy and I kept practicing and I tried to ignore his presence, hoping he would move on. Soon, however, he stood next to us, watching as we sparred.

  Quincy jabbed at me with the wooden sword. Stepping forward, I swung my weapon to the left with the blade upright, solidly blocking the thrust. He stepped back, preparing to move forward again, but Sir Hugh stopped us.

  “That was the most pitiful parry I’ve ever seen,” he said.

  His words stung, but I tried not to pay him any mind. “Forgive me, sire. I am new at this,” I said.

  “No excuse. We are here to fight. If you can’t do that, you are of little use. A weak link in the chain like you can get us all killed.”

  Sir Hugh’s eyes bore into me, but I refused to be baited. “Then I will keep practicing until I am the strongest link, sire,” I said.

  Sir Hugh snorted. “Give me your sword,” he said to Quincy. Quincy was uncertain what to do for a moment, but timidly handed the weapon to Sir Hugh.

  “Attack me,” he commanded.

  I was reluctant to move.

  “In God’s name, boy, I have given you an order! Attack!” he yelled.

  I made a halfhearted lunge with my weapon. With blinding speed, he easily parried the thrust, then swung back, striking me solidly across my upper right arm. My arm went numb and I cried out in pain.

  “Horrible defense,” he said. “If this were a real sword, your arm would be lying in the dust right now. Attack again.”

  I couldn’t feel anything in my right arm below the elbow and couldn’t grip the sword correctly. My cry of pain had brought the training of the other squires to a halt, and they and Sergeanto LeMaire turned to watch, stunned, waiting to see what would happen next.

  “Sire, my arm…,” I said.

  “Boy, you listen to me! Attack!” Sir Hugh did not wait for me to move. Taking a giant lunge forward he brought the wooden sword swinging down at full speed. I had only a second to raise my weapon, which I held in my left hand only, moving it into a blocking position.

  Sir Hugh’s sword whistled down, hitting mine with a loud crack. Because I fought one-handed, I couldn’t completely stop it. His blow landed on my right shoulder with a horrible crunching sound.

  This time I screamed out loud. I thought my shoulder was surely broken. Dropping the sword from my hand I looked in shock at my right arm, now useless at my side. Tears stung my eyes, but I did everything I could to force them back, not wanting to give Sir Hugh the satisfaction.

  “That was terrible. Simply awful! You have no talent at this whatsoever,” Sir Hugh said. “These are only practice weapons and you can’t even get that right. What are you going to do if you are attacked by someone with a real weapon?”

  To my horror, Sir Hugh dropped the wooden practice weapon in the dirt. I watched in disbelief as he drew his battle sword from the sheath at his belt and began swinging it back and forth in the air before me.

  “This isn’t a game, boy. This is war. We are going to fight. What will you do when it is no longer practice? What will you do when it’s real?”

  Circling around me he swung the sword back and forth, each time bringing it closer to my face. I glanced quickly about. The squires watched on in silence. Sergeanto LeMaire looked stricken, but being far outranked by Sir Hugh, he couldn’t do much.

  “Sir Hugh…,” he pleaded.

  “Quiet, sergeanto!” Sir Hugh snapped.

  Raising the sword high, he came at me. I saw it begin its downward arc, and there was nothing I could do but jump quickly to the side. The weapon cut through the air right where I had been standing moments before.

  He moved back around me in a half circle, raising the sword again. When his hands started downward, I moved to the side, stumbling over the sword that I’d dropped. This time I fell to the ground on my knees. Sir Hugh’s sword swung down again where I had just been crouched before him.

  As Sir Hugh completed the swing, he stepped forward to follow through. As he brought the sword up and around again, I saw my only chance.

  With my left hand, I grabbed the fallen practice sword. As he stepped past me, I quickly thrust it between his legs at the ankles. It worked perfectly. He tripped on the wooden blade and fell headfirst into the dirt. He let out a shout of surprise and his tunic flew up, covering his head and shoulders.

  I quickly scampered to my feet while Sir Hugh shouted and cursed. He jumped to his feet, his face turning crimson and his eyes throwing fire in my direction. I couldn’t help but smile, which made his face go from crimson to purple.

  The brothers at St. Alban’s had always taught me to turn the other cheek. I should have remembered my station. He was the Marshal and should have been treated with the respect of his office. But I couldn’t help myself. I had done nothing to this man to deserve this treatment.

  “Perhaps I am not the weakest link after all, Sir Hugh,” I said. This brought a nervous laugh from the other squires. Even Sergeanto LeMaire snickered behind his hand.

  “You think you are funny? You think this is a game? I have had enough of you and your insolent…” He stopped talking and raised the sword again. I crouched and prepared to dodge.

  As Sir Hugh lifted the weapon above his head, a very large hand came from behind him and quickly tore the sword from his grip. It was Sir Basil. Then Sir Hugh went stumbling forward, tripping over the wooden sword and again flopping into the dirt.

  The next thing I knew, Sir Thomas was there, kneeling beside him. Sir Hugh rolled over and started to get to his feet, but Sir Thomas placed a hand on his chest and held him in place. Sir Basil stood a few feet away, twirling the sword in his giant hands. It looked like a toy in his grip.

  “What is the meaning of this? Remove your hand!” Sir Hugh said.

  Sir Thomas spoke in a low voice. So low that Sir Hugh, Sir Basil, Quincy and I were the only ones to hear him.

  “Know this,” he said, the rage in his tone barely contained. “I will never see anything like this again. Am I clear? You will not come near my squire under any circumstances. If you do, if anything happens to him, if he is injured in any way and I find out you are the cause of it, I will strike you down myself. You will not harm this boy. Nod to show that you understand me.”

  Sir Hugh’s face was as cold as stone and his eyes were full of poison. He looked at me and then at Sir Thomas and hissed, “You’re a fool. I know, Sir Thomas. Don’t think I don’t. We both know who he is. You think you can protect him? Ha. I hardly think so.”

  Sir Thomas cocked his head, his eyes boring into Sir Hugh for the briefest of moments. I felt my stomach clench, momentarily forgetting the pain in my arm and shoulder, and suddenly found it difficult to breathe. What did Sir Hugh mean? He knew something about my past?

  “You know nothing, Sir Hugh. Nothing at all. And let me be clear: this boy is now under m
y protection. I’m watching, Sir Hugh. My men are watching. If anything happens to him, you’ll be the first one I find.” Sir Thomas’ hand grasped hold of Sir Hugh’s tunic and he pulled him just inches from his face. “Do you understand me?”

  Sir Hugh’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t look frightened, but he knew that Sir Thomas, at least temporarily, had the upper hand. He barely nodded.

  “Excellent,” said Sir Thomas. “Now I am going to help you to your feet and Sir Basil is going to give you back your sword. You will take it and leave the field. If you ever raise it at Tristan again, you’d best next use it on yourself, for it will be the last act you perform on this earth. Do we have an understanding?”

  Sir Hugh said nothing, only nodded briefly again. Sir Thomas stood and as he did so, pulled Sir Hugh to his feet. He brushed past Sir Thomas, grabbed his sword from Sir Basil and stormed off the field.

  “Sergeanto, recommence with the training,” said Sir Thomas. The squires immediately turned and began practicing as if nothing had happened.

  “Tristan, are you hurt?” Sir Thomas asked.

  “Not seriously, sire,” I said. “I don’t think anything is broken. It hurts quite a bit though.”

  Sir Thomas ran his hand along my shoulder and I winced. “It doesn’t feel broken,” he said.

  “Tristan, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do,” Quincy said. He looked at me with downcast eyes as if he might break into tears at any moment.

  “Not your fault, Quincy. You did nothing wrong. Don’t give it another moment’s thought,” I said. He smiled at me in gratitude.

  “That’s right, Quincy. You are not to blame here. That lies squarely on the shoulders of Sir Hugh,” Sir Basil said. He beamed at me. “Tristan, I saw what you did. Quick thinking.”

  “Sire, I am sorry to have caused any trouble…,” I said.

  “Nonsense!” Sir Thomas interrupted. “I am glad that you are not seriously hurt, but I will want the physician to examine you. Sir Basil? Would you and Quincy excuse us for a moment?” he said.