by Park, Elsie
Roland lifted an eyebrow at them, feeling quite satisfied, before leaving.
Making his way down the lower corridor, the smell of roast chicken wafted from the great hall, tantalizing his senses. At the opposite end of the passageway, he spotted Father Bromel as he rounded the corner and came toward him. The thought struck Roland that Father Bromel had probably been in Guildon many years and knew just about everyone in the castle and village. He wondered if the man knew the Griffiths or remembered things as far back as his parents’ time.
“Father Bromel,” Roland hailed as he approached the spiritual leader.
“Ah, Sir Roland, the subject of everyone’s chatter of late.” Father Bromel smiled warmly.
Roland couldn’t help but grin. “Yes, well, you can be sure I didn’t go seeking the attention.”
“I supposed not,” Father Bromel nodded, his thoughtful eyes displaying sympathy. “What might I do for you, my son?”
“Actually, I was wondering if you knew some villagers by the name of Griffith.”
Father Bromel’s calm demeanor suddenly shifted to a stiff posture. He looked sideways at Roland as if searching out his motives for wanting to know. He opened his mouth to speak but looked as if he wasn’t sure what to say and closed it again. Roland thought it an odd reaction. Either the man knew of the Griffiths or he did not. A simple enough question to answer.
As if reading his thoughts, Father Bromel produced a smile. “You must forgive my slow memory. I have known many people in my lifetime and many Griffiths. My aged mind takes a moment to recollect. Maybe if you enlightened me on the reason you seek them, it would jog my remembrance, allowing me to send you in the right direction.”
Roland trusted the man but didn’t want to announce his personal mission to everyone. The less who knew of it, the more likely he could casually convince people to disclose details about the Griffiths and his birth parents.
Roland cleared his throat, thinking of a vague reply that would still gain him answers. “I heard they might have knowledge of something that I’m interested in.”
Father Bromel lifted an eyebrow, apparently waiting for more of an explanation, but Roland gave none.
“I see,” the holy man said, nodding slowly. “Well, I know a good many people in Guildon, but, alas, there are plenty I do not have an acquaintance with. I knew of some Griffiths who moved away years ago.”
“Do you know what region they went to?”
“Alas, I don’t remember. I’m sorry.”
Roland’s shoulders slumped a little, but he kept his voice casual to mask his interest. “Are there other Griffiths residing in Guildon at this time?”
“There may be, but if there are, I do not know them. I fear I cannot help you. I’m sorry.” Father Bromel’s eyes shifted, making the man appear a bit nervous, but perhaps he was late for his next appointment. As if interpreting his thoughts again, he said, “If you’ll excuse me, my son, I must continue my rounds.”
“Of course, Father. Thank you for your time.” Roland stepped aside for the man to pass. Father Bromel dipped his head at Roland and headed down the corridor at a swifter pace than before.
Roland’s brows furrowed. He was disappointed at the lack of information, but if the man didn’t know any Griffiths currently residing in Guildon, then there was nothing for it. Another hopeful idea turned into a dead end. Roland continued to his chamber and washed up for cena.
He didn’t see Audrina or her maid again until they trudged into the great hall toward the end of the meal, looking exhausted and irritated. The moment she and Gail sat down at the squires’ table, several of the boys raced to sit next to them. Audrina’s demeanor perked up immediately, and she chatted with her tablemates as if she wasn’t twice their age. Roland suspected her quick wit and humor played a part in endearing her to them. The squires didn’t seem to have any qualms over including her in their conversations and jokes. They clearly considered her one of their own.
Roland stood up from where he was eating and made his way to the squires’ table. “Finished with the shields already?”
Audrina turned on her bench, a leg of roast chicken in her hand. She nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, I’ll have to inspect your work after I’ve finished eating.”
“Go right ahead, Sir Roland. I think you’ll be satisfied with our fine efforts.”
Roland nodded. “We’ll see if you pass my high standards. You and Gail will be excused to retire after you’re done here.”
Audrina nodded and turned back to her plate. As Roland returned to his own seat, a pair of knights, twin brothers known in Guildon for being troublemakers, brushed him on their way out the door. One of them bumped his shoulder as he passed by. Roland instinctively apologized, but the other knight only sneered at him, not missing a step. Roland shook his head, choosing to ignore the slight. Simply another example of Guildon knight jealousy and their deficient behavior toward him since stepping into his trainer position.
After the ladies left for their chamber, Roland entered the empty training tent with a lantern to inspect the shields. To his utter shock, they were all plastered with mud and scattered about the ground in reckless abandon. He felt the heat rise in his face. He was furious that she had not only lied to him about cleaning the shields, but that she had dirtied them worse than before. And here he’d thought she was on her way to losing her defiant ways. His jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists so tight that his nails dug into his palms.
He strode straight up to her chamber door and didn’t even knock before barging in.
“When I give an order,” he yelled at Audrina who was sitting at her little table dressed in clean kirtle and reading a book, “I expect you to follow it. You not only didn’t do what I told you to, but you lied about it as well!” His nostrils flared.
His intrusion had caused Gail to stand fast and place herself between the attacking knight and her lady. Audrina laid her book upside down on the table to keep her page and stood up. She stepped around Gail, coming to stand before Roland with a brave stance. “What are you talking about?” she yelled back.
“As if you don’t know, you little snit. Those shields are scattered and filthy! I know your rebellious ways. It’s the whole reason I’ve been assigned to you, but I will not tolerate them.”
“What?” Audrina looked taken aback.
“What did you do? Take the shields and chuck them into the mud and then literally throw them back into the tent without a care? Because that’s what it looked like to me!”
She stared at him with angry brows and an open mouth during his accusations. “No, I washed every last one of them. My palms claim painful sores to prove it.” She held her red and blistered hands up to his face, but he pushed them down with his own.
“You will learn to follow orders or face the consequences!”
“But I did follow orders. Gail was with me the entire time.”
Gail moved to Audrina’s side. “We cleaned every last one of those accursed shields.”
“Oh, that’s rich,” Roland spat, not convinced. “Gail, who is loyal to you and none other, would have no qualms about lying to protect her dear lady. Oh no, you’ll have to come up with a better alibi than that, squire.”
Audrina stepped closer to him and thrust her more than irritated face into his angry one. “And how do I know it wasn’t you who soiled the shields just to bully your female squire? Have you no honor, sir?”
“How dare you challenge my honor,” he shot back. “It’s yours that’s in question here. Or don’t you possess an ounce of it?”
“Why, you . . .” Audrina brought her hand up to slap his cheek, but anticipating the rash movement, his fast reflexes stopped it. Her wrist, trapped inside his strong grip, was surprisingly soft. Not wanting to feel the distraction, he thrust her hand down at her side as his hardened expression dared her to try it again. S
he didn’t, but she looked as if she wanted to scream. She glared at him, her lips almost white as she pressed them together.
Pointing a finger in her face, he lowered the timbre in his voice to an intimidating one. “You will learn obedience if I have to wring it from you.”
“Is that a threat of physical hostility?” she solicited, her forced sneer not quite hiding the fear in her eyes.
At this point, Roland realized how brutal he sounded, how much he must seem like Festus, and he was angrier at himself for losing his temper. But what she did to the shields was immature and despicable. He lowered his finger from her face and took a deep breath. Though he was moving into calmer waters, he knew he still couldn’t let her get away with what she’d done. He let his breath out and took care to soften his voice, though only a bit. “You may have no fear of my laying a fierce hand upon you, for physical violence has never been my nature. However, you will experience the consequences of your ill actions in the form of stricter training.”
“My ill actions? But I didn’t—”
“Be ready on the morrow,” he spoke over her protests, “to experience the most difficult drills yet.” He turned on his heel and marched to the door. Before exiting, he turned and faced her again. “And that will be in addition to your cleaning and polishing the shields.”
She opened her mouth to object, but he held his hand up. “Not another word from you, squire. Go to bed. You’ll need the rest.” He left her chamber and slammed the door after him, Audrina’s strain of angry words turning to muffles behind it. He shook his head and rubbed at the headache pounding against his temples. He wasn’t cut out for this drama. If it wasn’t for the pay, the better accommodations, and the hope of some insight about his parents, he’d quit right then.
His anger calmed after an hour, allowing him to think more clearly. A little guilt gnawed at him that Audrina might have been telling the truth about cleaning the shields. Had he been too hasty in believing she acted in rebellion? There were plenty of knights who didn’t like the idea of a female trainee and might have taken the opportunity to disparage her.
Some investigating was in order.
He entered the knights’ tent with lantern in hand to find a boy sitting at the table washing and waxing the shields by the light of his own lantern. He had finished ten of them. No one else was present.
He walked up to the boy and squatted down on his heels. “Shouldn’t you be abed at this time, lad?”
Startled, the boy looked up from his work and vigorously shook his head, his lip quivering under tear-rimmed eyes.
“What’s your name?”
“B-Bryant, sir,” he said timidly.
“You look to be about ten years old, am I right?
This brought a little sneer to Bryant’s face as he shook his head. “That’s what everyone guesses, but I’m actually fourteen. My ma always called me ‘the wee one’ because I was born tiny and remain small for my age.”
Roland nodded. “I see. And did you wash and wax these yourself?” Roland lifted a finished shield and inspected the thorough work.
“Yes, sir,” he nodded but didn’t seem happy about his accomplishment.
“You do fine work.”
“Thank you, but I do it to help Lady Gibbons.”
Roland’s brows turned down in curiosity. “How so?” Roland stood up, replaced the shield, and then sat astride a log.
Bryant looked around the tent before facing Roland. “I . . . I was here earlier when she was washing these shields. She did as fine a job as any squire, but,” he paused, eyeing the entry with uncertainty.
Roland looked toward the doorway and, seeing no one, encouraged Bryant to continue. “Go on.”
“Well, the twin knights, Sir Hammond and Sir Harold, came in and taunted her, saying that she should be in the sewing room doing women’s work instead of posing as a boy who’d never amount to the status of a knight no matter how hard she worked.”
Heat rose in Roland’s face. The cowards had waited until he wasn’t around to disrespect his squire. “What happened then?” he asked, forcing his voice to remain calm, though his stomach churned with guilt that he hadn’t been there to protect her.
“Lady Gibbons and her handmaid stood up to them. Lady Gibbons accused them of ‘also posing as boys’ and attaining a title they didn’t live up to. She said that insulting a woman was as tasteless as spitting upon the chapel doors and that they reeked of a cowardice and filth that subleveled a pig.”
Roland’s eyes grew round at hearing this account, knowing Audrina and her audacious retorts well enough to believe every word the lad spoke. Feeling pride in his squire’s quick-witted tongue, he placed a hand over his mouth to keep a smile from forming. “But what did such a squelch cause the knights to do?” he asked, hoping they hadn’t laid a hand on her. Surely, he would have heard about it if they had.
“At first they said nothing. Too shocked, I think, but then they threatened her. You could see they wanted to do more, even stepped up to her, but with her maid and other squires present, I think they thought better of it.”
Roland’s back straightened. “What did they threaten?”
“That she’d regret her insults toward them.”
That she’d regret her insults? Roland sneered to himself. As if they were innocent of starting the entire confrontation by throwing insults at her first. The curs! Then it dawned on him. “The shields,” he stated more to himself than the boy, realizing now that the knights had already planned their deed even as they’d passed Roland in the great hall. His teeth ground together.
Bryant nodded. “Yes, sir. I had stayed in here after Lady Gibbons finished the shields, after everyone left, so I could,” he looked down at the ground as if embarrassed, “practice with a real sword,” he mumbled.
Roland knew the young boys weren’t allowed to train with the metal swords, only the wooden ones. “Go on, lad,” Roland prodded. He held no ire over the forbidden act.
Bryant’s head lifted, and he continued. “I heard voices outside the tent and hunkered down behind the sword rack. Then I saw the twins enter with buckets of mud. They smeared the shields with it and then tossed them to the ground. I’m nothing to anyone, sir,” Bryant said, tears forming in his eyes. “I knew no one would believe me if I tattled on knights, but nor did I want Lady Gibbons to get in trouble for not finishing her task. So, I stayed to do it myself.” He turned his head and stared at the shield in his lap, his hand absently rubbing it.
Roland’s heart was touched at the noble deeds of this boy, for his sweet support of Audrina. She had surely won the hearts of the children and was benefiting from it.
Roland placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You are an honorable and brave lad, Bryant, and your actions deserve a reward.”
The boy looked up from the shield, his inquisitive eyes watching Roland’s hand dig into a small pouch at his waist. Bryant’s eyes lit up as Roland pulled out a silver coin. “Not only will I give you this for your honesty and trouble, I will help you finish these shields.” It was also the least he could do for accusing Audrina of malice.
With a bright smile, Bryant took the coin that was handed to him. “Thank you, sir.” He tucked the coin into a small pouch at his waist.
Roland smiled back and fondly tousled the boy’s hair. “Remember this, lad. You may be small in stature, but you’re certainly not lacking in honor, the trait that truly matters.”
Bryant looked up at him and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Now then, hand me one of those shields, and we’ll try to be out of here before the cock crows.”
“Yes, sir,” Bryant repeated, placing the one in his lap onto the table and jumping up with renewed enthusiasm to get another.
Roland took the shield Bryant hefted over to him and set to work cleaning it. His thoughts turned to the problem of how to deal with the knight tw
ins. The knights were well-known and well-liked by most, but calling them out on their treatment of his squire, which was probably acceptable to the other knights, would cause more trouble for him and Audrina. He didn’t know what to do. He needed someone of influence to back him.
He’d talk it over with Heath and get his opinion on the matter.
Roland had been standing outside of Audrina’s chamber door for over fifteen minutes mustering up the courage—no, the humility . . . no, the courage—to set aside his pride and give in to humility in order to apologize to her for his outburst and erroneous assumptions yesterday evening.
He felt angry at himself for even needing to say sorry. If he hadn’t jumped to conclusions in the first place, if he had simply handled the situation with a clear head from the beginning, he would have discovered the truth and wouldn’t be in front of her door. Would he never learn? His quick temper had haunted his steps far too long, and it would continue to get him into trouble until he learned to control it and think rationally.
He reached his hand out to knock on the door but brought it up to rub the nape of his neck . . . again. His brows drew together, frustrated with himself over his hesitation and fear. But fear of what? Fear of admitting he was wrong? Fear that she had seen a flaw in him? Not that he claimed to be perfect, but no one liked others to see their imperfections. Was it fear that she had lost faith in him, if she had any to begin with? Fear that he had set their relationship as knight and squire back to the beginning? Or perhaps he feared seeing the disappointment in her eyes, those piercing brown eyes that affected him more than he cared to admit.
Roland shook his head and, before he could hesitate again, rapped loudly on the wooden portal.
It took a minute for someone to come to the door, and he had the urge to walk away before it opened. He remained rooted, however, and when it opened, both ladies stood staring at him, Audrina with an uncertain expression and Gail with a glare.