by Matthew Berg
18
Opportunity
Breeden was scratching away at a piece of parchment, working on an essay, and wondering how close to midday meal they were. Kestrel, Derek, and Oskar were there too, but Janelle, Laudan, and Cedric were missing. It was an odd feeling not having them there. Their class felt far more than half missing.
Janelle and Cedric were in an audience with the princess. The young merchant’s daughter had earned the opportunity thanks to Cedric’s confidence in Janelle’s composure and her mastery of court etiquette. Janelle had been positively glowing since finding out, but fortunately—as far as Breeden was concerned, anyway—she also had to keep her enthusiasm in check. Breeden had been delighted she had found out about the meeting right on the heels of Laudan’s incident with Tavish Ranald. So she hadn’t been able to celebrate or show her excitement around the others as she’d have liked. He knew it was eating her up inside and that she normally would have gone on and on.
The price for Janelle’s discomfort, however, was that Laudan was still “walking the box,” the squires’ unofficial name for the punishment of marching around the rectangular-shaped training yard with a heavy spear. Testamentary to how serious the instructors had believed Laudan’s offense to be, he had been doing this from sunrise until sunset for two days and was now on his third. He was allowed to stop for a small meal at midmorning, another at midday, and a third during afternoon tea. During these breaks, he wasn’t allowed to sit down but could stretch his muscles and set down his spear. He could also eat, of course, and he did so ravenously at each opportunity.
Breeden and the others, even Derek, had stopped by to check on his progress the day before, during their own midday break. They couldn’t speak to Laudan, but when he had gone on break, his eyes were free to roam. He had spotted them immediately and nodded his silent thanks for their support. When Laudan’s break had ended, he had resumed marching. Their purpose fulfilled, they had been about to leave when the princess appeared from around the corner.
Soldier and squire alike had sprung upright to attention, and Laudan, eyes front and unaware of what had transpired, continued his march. It turned out that the princess was on a midday stroll—unaccompanied—and, curious at the sight of the boy marching all by himself, had stopped a sergeant-at-arms and asked him about Laudan and his punishment. After a brief interaction, she had dismissed the sergeant and watched Laudan for a few moments more before continuing her walk. Once she had gone, Kestrel had talked with the sergeant and discovered the nature of their conversation. The sergeant had told her that Laudan was told to check his blows, that he hadn’t done so, and that he was being punished for it. The princess had apparently been unhappy about the answer, but had made no further comment, and then had inexplicably smiled and thanked the sergeant for his courtesy.
As before, Breeden and the others had been captivated by the unusual and temperamental girl. Completely aside from the fact that she was the princess, she was also breathtakingly beautiful. Then there was the matter of her famous fits of anger, so hard to reconcile with the poised and composed girl they admired from afar.
It was coming up on lunch, and Breeden’s essay was, unfortunately, not writing itself. And he was getting hungry. That didn’t help matters either. Breeden, Kestrel, and Oskar intended to visit the training yard again today. That is, if Cedric ever came back and told them they were dismissed!
As if the monk had heard Breeden’s thoughts, he appeared at the door a moment later, with Janelle in tow. And if Breeden had thought she looked excited before, she was simply beside herself right now.
Breeden, Derek, Kestrel, and Oskar set down their styluses and rose nearly as one when Brother Cedric entered the room. They stood in a relaxed, upright posture and held their hands folded together in front of them. Breeden had learned in one of Cedric’s classes on etiquette that one should rise when an elder, or someone of a higher caste, enters the room. As much as Cedric professed to dislike class distinctions, he certainly seemed enthusiastic about teaching manners—even when that involved learning how to behave around one’s betters! Such concerns were second nature to the nobles, but Oskar and Breeden had learned solely through repeated exposure, and that they matched Derek’s timing today was an indication they had made real progress.
Breeden guessed that this progress may have been at least partly responsible for the pleased look Cedric bore as he came to stand beside the lectern from which he typically directed class in this room. But there was more. “I have an announcement to make.” He paused for effect, and his smile grew even broader. “Janelle has been selected by the princess’s house matron to become her lady-in-waiting while she remains with us at Ridderzaal!” Breeden had never heard open pride so evident in Cedric’s speech. And a quick look at Janelle told Breeden that even Laudan’s ongoing punishment would not be enough to dim the flood of self-congratulation and girlish bubbling to which he and his peers would now be subjected by their female classmate.
Cedric continued. “I hope you all appreciate how unique and distinguished an honor this is. There is no precedent of which I am aware for a queen or heir apparent to the throne to select a lady-in-waiting who is not from the noble ranks. But Janelle so impressed Princess Lorelei and her house matron that she has done the unthinkable. It is no mean decision, and I believe it will have lasting impact on future selections. Truly, Janelle has today made history!”
All four of the boys directed mostly genuine smiles at Janelle, a unified display of support that would have been underwhelming to Janelle had she not been riding so high on the excitement of the moment. And when none of the boys made a move to speak or shake her hand, Cedric encouraged them. “Go ahead. No need to stand there like you’re cast in bronze. Wish her well!”
They moved from behind their seats then, squeezed her shoulder, took her hand, patted her on the back, and muttered low and jumbled words of congratulations. But the modest display of praise was enough for her, and as Breeden had predicted, it would be days before her mouth would stop flapping with tales of meeting the princess. “She was even more beautiful up close.” At that, Breeden raised an eyebrow. “She was so dignified . . . I feared she would think I was sick, I was shaking so badly . . . And she is smart, so very smart!” The boys bore the effusion with moderate grace, and Breeden guessed the others, like him, were really happy for her but just didn’t want to hear every gory detail.
Cedric remained apart from them, content to allow Janelle her moment of glory, and appearing gratified with how everything had turned out. He seemed to realize that the boys’ patience with the jabbering girl might be wearing thin, and he spoke up. “All right, that’s enough for now! What this will mean to our studies together is that Janelle will be late to arrive every morning and wholly absent from us for some of her lessons. But she should still be able to join us for most of what we will do. After all, the princess is under the tutelage of other brothers here as well. I will see that the schedule of their lessons complements our own.
“Go home to tell your mother and father, Janelle. Have your midday meal with your family, and return when you are done. The rest of you should meet me back here at two bells. I will see you then.”
Kestrel, Oskar, and Breeden glanced at one another, each seeming to know the others’ thoughts, and left the room before Janelle or Derek, heading toward the training yard. Derek, as he did more often than not, went in the opposite direction. And Janelle went home as Cedric had bid her do, to tell her mother and father the good news.
19
Bystanders
The three boys exited the south end of the monastery and cut across the keep’s enormous garden, skirting the hedge maze that occupied the centermost ring of the garden’s concentric circles, and approached the stables and training yard where they knew Laudan would be serving his punishment. As they turned the northwest corner of the stable, they were met with an unexpected sight.
Laudan was there, but so were all the instructor knights and sergeants-a
t-arms. And Laudan wasn’t marching with a spear as he had been for the last two days. Instead, he was standing in the middle of a circle of the sergeants, with his arms extended straight out from his body and parallel to the ground. He was holding a small rock, about the size of an apple, in each hand. Even at seventeen years old, he was equal in height to many of the men surrounding him, and taller than some. But he still looked all the boy in the presence of such a rough and hardened group of soldiers. Beyond the ring of sergeants, three knights stood in a small cluster, conversing among themselves. And a fourth knight walked slowly around the circle, occasionally issuing words to the sergeants, or perhaps Laudan—Breeden couldn’t be sure.
Breeden and the others had stopped when they realized that something unusual was occurring, and they were still about thirty yards away. Kestrel whistled low. “He’s in a world of it!”
Breeden looked around and could see no other squires, or anyone else for that matter. “Can we go closer?” He felt he knew the answer was no, but maybe Kestrel might think it okay.
But Kestrel confirmed his opinion. “I’d say not. That doesn’t look like a welcoming committee.”
Breeden gestured toward the pavilion, and Kestrel considered for a moment before finally shrugging his shoulders. “I suppose they can always tell us to leave.” And the three of them changed their course and angled toward the jousting lists and the wooden spectators’ platform that straddled both fields.
Once perched above the field, Kestrel, Oskar, and Breeden were slightly closer to their friend than they had been a moment before, but they were now less conspicuous and also had a better view of the proceedings.
Laudan was obviously exhausted, and his arms kept trying to drop from the weight of the stones he held. He would hold steady for a while, perhaps as long as half a minute, and then his arms would lower ever so slowly, twitching back into position when he realized he was slipping. Breeden didn’t know how long Laudan had been charged with holding the position, but he was obviously at a point where he was losing the battle. And each time his arms did drop, one of the sergeants would lean into the boy’s face and scream at him to resume his position.
And then, a handful of minutes after Breeden and the others had arrived, Laudan’s arms began to shake. The shaking was somewhat subtle at first but grew to a pronounced and spasmodic jerking of his arms. He was trying to raise his arms back to their original position, but he couldn’t do it. The sergeants could clearly see that he was failing at last and closed in around him even tighter. They joined together in screaming at him, in telling him to hold his position, and asking him where his fabled strength had gone. The ferocity of their assault on his friend made Breeden nearly weep out of pity. And Laudan’s normally stoic expression had turned to one of defeat, and of disappointment in himself. Oddly, Breeden didn’t see fear in his friend’s eyes. Breeden knew that had it been him standing in the middle of those men, he would be cowering on the ground before them, huddled in a heap and hoping they would leave him be. But Breeden would swear that Laudan was more disappointed than fearful. The normally quiet boy held on to something inside himself and weathered the abuse being thrown at him from every side.
The sergeants were not letting up and took turns putting their faces as close to his as they could, screaming for him to raise his arms, howling that he dared disobey their orders. But he could no longer raise his arms. They hung limply at his sides, useless to him.
Breeden saw movement among the knights, and one of them dismissed the sergeants-at-arms. All the sergeants stopped yelling and obeyed instantly, stepping back from Laudan into a rough line. The knight who had called off the sergeants approached Laudan alone, in the midst of the almost eerie silence that followed the raucous chorus of cursing and abuse.
Kestrel interrupted his thoughts. “The giant knight that’s walking over to him is Knight-Captain Jenlyns, from Arlon. He’s one of the most fearsome fighters in the King’s Army. They say he once killed two trolls with a single blow of his sword!”
When the knight got closer to their friend, Breeden realized that Kestrel wasn’t exaggerating about the man being big. He was easily a good handspan taller than Laudan, and much broader of shoulder. He stood back from Laudan about an arm’s length away and said something Breeden couldn’t hear. Laudan raised his head and met the man’s eye. The knight spoke again. He appeared to be talking in a conversational voice. Breeden guessed that the other knights and sergeants probably couldn’t hear what he was saying any better than he and his friends could from the pavilion.
He talked for a long time. And as he spoke, Breeden could see Laudan’s expression change. Breeden saw his friend slowly lose his defiance, and what looked more like anger was replaced by what looked to be genuine shame. The knight kept talking with him for another few minutes. And when he finally turned about and walked off, Laudan’s chin dropped toward his chest.
The departing knight made a gesture as he walked away, and one of the sergeants snapped upright and barked out to Laudan that he should return to the barracks and dress for a final inspection before his punishment was deemed to be over. Laudan, looking defeated for the first time Breeden could recall, marched away to the northwest toward the barracks.
Kestrel, Oskar, and Breeden shared a long look, and Oskar queried, “What do you suppose the knight said to him?”
“If he didn’t tell him he was sending him home, I’m not sure what he could have said to make Laudan so upset.” Kestrel looked discomfited by his own words.
What Breeden had assumed would be another afternoon of trying to distract their friend from his marching in squares turned out to be a far sight less fun. “Let’s go to the market and get something to eat. My bread and cheese won’t serve today.”
Kestrel grunted his agreement and headed off toward the outer bailey. Oskar lingered for a moment until Laudan had disappeared from sight. And then he followed along too.
20
Oskar
Oskar had a secret. And it was a big one. The thing is, Oskar wasn’t really a boy. But she had pretended to be one for so long that she didn’t know how or when—or if—she could ever stop being a boy.
Her reasons for acting like a boy were solid. She figured nobody would fault her for it. Because girls on the streets did things much worse than the things she had been forced to do as a boy: picking pockets, robbing merchants, pretending to be crippled and begging for alms, etc. Oskar’s street father had known she was a girl, of course. There was no way she would’ve been able to keep that from Huw. He had even given her her name. She knew that she owed Huw her life many times over. She also knew how lucky she was that he wasn’t a man of appetites—as he described the deviants he had helped her avoid since he’d found her wandering the market when she was about five or so.
Oskar had been abandoned by her mother . . . or father . . . or both. She held images in her memory of two people who could have been her parents. But their faces wouldn’t hold still in her mind’s eye so she could get a good look. So, anyway, she wasn’t exactly clear on the who—or even exactly the when, never mind the why—of her abandonment. Huw said that people’s minds had a way of protecting them from the bad things that happened to them. ‘The lucky among us, anyway!’ She didn’t even remember her real name. So maybe she was better off not knowing what had happened to her parents.
She suspected Cedric also knew the truth about her. He never said anything about it. But it was just a sense she had. And she had gotten pretty good at reading people and knowing when they were lying or telling the truth. But even as she grew older, Oskar knew that it was still safer to remain a boy. She didn’t know how people would react to her if she revealed her secret. For that matter, she still didn’t know if her chest was ever going to get any bigger—which would be exciting, of course, but it could also complicate matters for her. So far, a baggy shirt had been all she’d needed to disguise herself. In any event, she’d never thought for too long about letting herself be a girl. Until that
friend of Cedric’s had found her at the breadline, she had figured she’d spend the rest of her days on the streets of Arlon—as a boy.
On the streets, Oskar had never had the guts to tell anyone the truth. She’d even kissed a few girls over the years—to prove she was just another normal boy, that is. It didn’t make her feel much of anything when she did, though she didn’t have a problem with it either. She guessed her feelings about such things might grow as she got older. There was something about Laudan, though—and the princess—that stirred the faintest of feelings inside her. The pair of them. As mean as the princess was sometimes, they were both so beautiful. And so strong. And yet even as strong as Laudan was, he was smitten with the princess. He made Oskar believe that dedication like that couldn’t possibly be weak. If someone so strong as Laudan could devote himself to another—against all odds and seemingly against reason—maybe Oskar could justify doing the same.
For about the hundredth time, Oskar considered telling her friends the truth. What would they say? Would they treat her differently? She wasn’t foolish enough to think that any of the boys would be interested in her. But whenever she thought about having the truth out there, she imagined she would breathe easier. So long as that falsehood existed between her and her friends, she would never be able to get any closer to them.
21
Squire’s Return
Breeden and Janelle would sometimes walk together to class. It wasn’t planned. And even when Breeden had wanted to, and tried to predict when Janelle would be leaving her house, he often missed her. But they had fallen into the loose habit of walking together whenever the timing worked out. Most often she would shout ahead to him to wait for her, and he would linger until she caught up. But once it had been announced Janelle would be joining the princess in the morning, and she would not be completing his walks with him, Breeden decided there was no need to wait for her, and he began to keep his own schedule. It was a weird feeling, walking past her house without intentionally slowing down in the hopes she might catch up. He realized he had grown accustomed to having Janelle join him for the last part of his walk.