by Park, Elsie
“Now then,” Roland spoke, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. “The crossbow.” He placed the bolt and accompanying pull lever on the table next to the weapon. “Except for its nonuse with knights, as we’ve already discussed, the crossbow has superseded longbows in many areas for several reasons. Crossbows are easier to aim in many cases. Also, attaining the skill with a longbow takes years of strength training and practice, usually begun at a young age, whereas the crossbow can be used quite proficiently after only a week of training.”
Audri was fascinated and eager to try it herself. She glanced at Bryant and saw the same reaction reflected in his young face. Sir Heath, she noted, feigned a look of boredom as his unflinching eyes focused on the crossbow. Gail, however, truly did look bored, and Audri suppressed a chuckle.
“The wooden stock,” Roland explained, running his hand along the main body of the armament, “is usually made from yew, ash, hazel, or elm. The bow can be made of wood, iron, or steel. The string, made of hemp, is strong and keeps its pliability well. The string is pulled back with this.” Roland picked up the metal lever and placed it into notches on top of the crossbow. As he pulled the handle back, metal claws hooked the string and pulled it back into a taut position where it hooked and stayed. “This new method of drawing the string offers more tension than mere muscle can, making it an ideal weapon for a child, an old person, or even a woman.”
“Is that why you like it?” Audri teased, remembering their challenge and trying to irritate her knight.
It worked. His jaw tightened at her suggestion, and Sir Heath let out a low whistle through his lips, surprised at her boldness. They all waited to see how Sir Roland would react to his insolent squire. Roland stared at her through narrowed eyes, his tongue stuck in one cheek in a discerning way. Audri realized it’d be more difficult to irk him when he was clearly on his guard during this rivalry, but she’d still try to test him just as severely as he was sure to test her. Her stomach, which had temporarily forgotten the pangs of hunger during the arms discussion, growled, reminding her of her own trial.
Roland methodically lifted the lever from its notches and placed it back on the table. He calmly took up the metal bolt and laid it horizontally into a groove atop the stock in front of the taut hemp string. He lifted the crossbow, resting the back end of it onto his right shoulder and pointed it a foot to the left of Audri.
Gail gasped and stood fast. “How dare you!” she screeched at Roland. From where she was positioned at the table, she obviously thought the weapon was pointed at her lady.
Sir Heath’s gentle but firm hand came down on her shoulder, staying her dangerous movement in stepping between Audri and her “assailant’s” weapon. Though the weapon was pointed away from her—nor was Roland’s finger anywhere near the trigger—Audri didn’t move a muscle. She wondered if she’d overstepped her bounds. The way he held the crossbow with unflinching steadiness and pure masculinity was enough to send her the subtle message that he was neither old nor of the opposite gender, and that he carried a greater proficiency in handling the weapon than most. She glanced at Gail, her subtle nod telling the maid to sit down. Gail did so with reluctance, fire still burning in her eyes toward the knight holding the weapon.
“These three notches in the front where I am resting my thumb,” Roland continued without countering Audri’s previous comment any further, “are used to focus on your target to make an accurate shot.” He replaced the crossbow onto the table and removed the bolt from its groove. “The crossbow ranges about 350 to 400 yards and can shoot about two bolts per minute on average, depending on the skill of the wielder. With practice and perseverance, a skilled crossbowman can achieve up to eight shots in the same amount of time, if he has assistance loading bolts.”
“And you, Sir Roland?” Bryant asked with excitement.
Roland smiled at the lad. “Yes, young squire, I have achieved eight shots per minute, but only on foot, mind you, with another reloading the crossbows for my use. On horseback, with the bouncing of the steed, I’ve only ever gotten off three shots.”
“Hmm, sounds like you’ve some work to do,” Audri piped in, trying to rile him again.
She was satisfied to see his face turn red but disappointed that he didn’t react with more annoyance.
Instead, he gave her a tight smile, saying through his teeth, “I’m always looking to improve my skill, Lady Squire, but refining the crossbow at this moment isn’t my aim but yours, as a complete novice. A formidable task in and of itself—especially on an empty stomach, wouldn’t you agree?”
It was her turn to blush, more from frustration than embarrassment, as her stomach again felt the discomfort of food deprivation. She became even more annoyed after seeing the corner of Roland’s mouth turn up in a gratified grin. He could certainly hold his own against her barbs, she admitted, but she was just beginning her assault. She had more up her sleeve, so he’d better remain on his guard.
“Who does this weapon belong to, lad?” Roland asked Bryant.
“No one, I believe. I think it was borrowed from the artillator a month ago for some reason, then placed in the corner and forgotten.”
“Probably borrowed by a knight demonstrating what an unknightly weapon was,” Sir Heath scoffed.
Roland’s eyes looked to the ceiling as he shook his head in response to Heath’s sarcasm. “Well then, we’ll claim it for our purposes and inform the artillator of its current location.”
“You, Lady Squire,” Roland directed as he pushed the disarmed crossbow across the table toward her, “will spend the next half hour cleaning this weapon and making it look like new. And we’ll also see about getting some sharper bolts.” He picked up the dull metal arrow and examined it. “This one couldn’t pierce a haystack.”
Oh, this woman was witty . . . and bold, to be sure. Roland found he was more impressed than angered by her attempts to rile him. He had to check himself to keep from smiling at her jibes, but only after he’d gotten control of his initial exasperation. Immediately getting angry was a habit not easily corrected, and her insults had almost gotten the better of him. He had to remind himself that she was going out of her way to enrage him because of their competition. But he had plenty of ideas to test her as well. This would be an interesting two days indeed—days that would keep him on his toes.
As Audrina cleaned the mud from the crossbow with water, shining it up with protective oils afterward, Roland and Heath talked in not-so-quiet tones about the sumptuous foods they’d be eating at the midday meal. He was amazed to see Audrina didn’t show a reaction and wondered how long her stubborn tenacity would last. It was only the first part of the first day after all. Gail, however, sent enough glares in his direction to cover for Audrina’s lack of them.
Heath had sent Bryant to the artillator to inform the man of the crossbow’s new caretaker and to obtain some new bolts. The boy had scampered back after a half hour, proudly displaying six shiny, sharpened bolts. He handed them to his mentor knight, who in turn placed them on the table in front of Roland.
“Wonderful,” Roland exclaimed. “What a proficient little squire you have there, Sir Heath.”
Bryant smiled and puffed out his chest as Heath ruffled the boy’s hair with his hand. “Good lad,” he praised.
“All finished,” Audrina announced as she placed the oil cloth on the table next to the clean crossbow and lever.
“Let’s see it,” Roland said, motioning for her to bring the weapon over for inspection.
She stood and walked to his stool, handing him the armament and pointing it straight at his chest. Roland saw that the crossbow was armed with the original bolt and ready to fire. She must have armed it when he wasn’t looking. He jumped up, knocking his stool over in the process, and moved from the crossbow’s sight as he simultaneously pushed the tip of it away. “What are you . . .” he yelled, more from alarm than anything, but if it hadn’
t been for the challenge, he would have lost his temper. “Never, ever, point a projectile at anything you don’t intend to injure or kill, even if armed with a dull bolt,” he said with a slightly raised voice. “Anything could accidentally set it off, hitting an unintended target.” Or maybe that was her intent.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, her eyebrows turning outward as she looked uneasily at Roland. Her tone was a little too dramatic to be sincere.
“How dare you get angry with her over something you did to her earlier,” Gail shot at him.
“He didn’t actually point it at her, Lady Pritchard,” Heath calmly explained, supporting his comrade knight. “Though from your angle it appeared so.”
Gail remained quiet but continued to frown.
“No harm done, Audri,” Roland said, realizing too late that he’d called her by her nickname, which was considered rather personal. Gail called her that on many occasions, but he never considered himself a candidate to use it. He leveled a stare at her. “Just don’t let it happen again.”
“That’s Lady Gibbons to you, sir,” Gail reprimanded.
Roland was about to deliver a quick apology for the error, but, when he thought about it, he figured it was time he used her informal name. “Lady Pritchard,” he said in response to Gail’s scolding, “Audri is my squire, so I have every right to treat her with the same informality as other knights treat their squires.” The nickname rolled off his tongue easier, too. He liked it.
Gail harrumphed.
He took the crossbow from Audri’s hands and disarmed it, glancing at her. She really did have beautiful eyes. He looked down at the crossbow, reminding himself it was unfitting to be attracted to any part of his squire, regardless of how good she smelled with that refreshing lemon scent ever surrounding her. She was his object of employment, nothing more.
“Well then,” he announced, lifting the weapon onto his shoulder. “Let’s venture out and find a target to assail.”
“You’d make a good target,” Audri half-mumbled, her eyes full of mirth.
Roland turned to her. “Don’t forget who currently holds the weapon.”
Audri sneered.
They all tightened their heavy cloaks around them before going out into the open air.
Heath rolled his eyes and made a comment about the annoyance of being exposed to the cold air all for an unworthy weapon, but, after spying Bryant’s excited expression, he followed the others without further comment.
The remainder of the morning was spent in the soggy archery field where Roland instructed both Audri and Bryant in handling and shooting the crossbow. Sir Heath and Gail stood back and observed. Roland was impressed at both squires’ quick learning, nodding his approval as they took turns holding, loading, and firing the weapon at their targets. Their aim was off at first, but they quickly gained control and began hitting the tightly woven hay targets with better precision, especially Audri, which impressed Roland.
That is until she reminded him of their challenge through her “innocent” actions. At one point, when she took the weapon from his hands, she stepped on his foot, grinding her boot into it. The soft leather of his footwear didn’t protect his toes from the painful pressure of her frame. He checked his near-reaction to yell at her as she gave an apology, if that’s what he could call her devious smile. Not learning from this first incident, he continued to stand close behind her to check her aim. When she lifted the crossbow to her shoulder and turned, the butt of it firmly struck his upper arm with a painful punch. She glanced back with a smirk and didn’t apologize. He didn’t stand as close after that. She also dropped the bolt to the ground a few times during the training session. After the first instance, Roland wiped the muddy bolt off with his tunic sleeve, but when it happened again, he cleaned it off with Audri’s, eyeing her equal defiance. She glared back, but the bolt didn’t touch the ground again. When he had her practice arming the crossbow as swiftly as she could, she chucked the crank lever behind her after using it. The metal device flew toward Roland’s feet, and he had to jump back to avoid another crushing blow to his toes. Heath laughed beside him.
Around noon, his stomach told him it was time to eat—and his turn to test her. He smirked to himself, resisting the urge to rub his hands together in a sinister fashion.
The noon meal consisted mainly of roasted pork, dried fruits, bread, cheese, and plenty of wine to wash it all down. Though Audri told Gail to eat, her loyal friend refused to partake of any food, at least in front of her. The ladies sat across from Sirs Roland and Heath, who were eating with vigor. Though Audri hadn’t earned the right to sit at the knights’ table, today Roland necessitated her close proximity for obvious reasons. Bryant insisted upon serving his knight, heaping food upon Sir Heath’s dried bread round that served as a plate and pouring him a goblet of wine. Heath, used to serving himself but hesitant to squash the enthusiasm of his young squire, allowed the service for a while before thanking the boy and sending him to the squires’ table to fill his own belly.
Audri and Gail talked quietly between themselves, trying not to look at the fare laden upon the table. The sumptuous smells were impossible to avoid and made Audri’s stomach crawl with hunger pains. The aches of her empty belly unsettled her, and she didn’t know if she could go the rest of the day, much less another day after that, feeling them at this intensity. But she found it easier to bear when she thought of other knights going through the same tests and coming out triumphant.
She glanced over at Bryant at the squires’ table. He ate with his head bowed over his plate piled high with meat and bread, shoveling food into his mouth as if it would disappear if he waited too long. At first, she thought his eating habits were due to a lack of upbringing, but then she realized it was because of his upbringing. His family, poor and destitute, had trained him to not take anything for granted and to eat everything set before him. Any ingested food would have to last an indeterminate amount of time, for it couldn’t be known when their next full meal would come, be it hours, days, or weeks. Yes, this sweet boy had experienced true starvation, nothing like what she was presently experiencing or even what she had endured a few years ago. His malnutrition was undoubtedly the prime suspect in his willowy build.
Audri suddenly felt guilty, not only for her minor discomfort but for her past actions when she’d tried starving herself before. She hadn’t given a thought that anyone else might be just as hungry as she and through no fault of their own. At least she knew her present trial would be ending within two days. But so many others went many days without sustenance, not knowing if their last meal was just that—their last. A greater empathy for those less fortunate than she grew within her soul, filling her being with such force that her sharp hunger pains subsided into dull aches she barely noticed.
She vowed to never again take food for granted nor abuse it.
These thoughts, along with her resolve to not lose this challenge, helped her mind to remain focused on things other than her hunger.
Sir Roland, however, was just as determined to test her limits the rest of the day, making her determination waver, though she prayed he didn’t sense it. The sly knight took out nuts and dried fruits from a small pouch at his side and snacked on them throughout the day as they continued their light training. He popped them into his mouth in her line of sight, and at one point, leaned in close to her ear so she could hear his offensive chewing as he instructed her in dagger techniques. She was tempted to send him a warning by way of the dagger’s tip against his throat, but she thought that might be going too far. So she stepped on his foot again, grinding the heel of her boot into it. She was satisfied to hear him grunt. After that, though he continued to eat in front of her, he didn’t get close enough to chew in her ear again.
Much to Gail’s protest, of which even Sir Heath couldn’t pacify, Roland accompanied Audri to the public privy when she had to relieve herself. “Can’t have you stealin
g away to the kitchen under the pretense of using your usual private chamber pot, now can we?” he reasoned as Gail trailed close behind them.
Today he insisted she use the community toilet situated on the outer wall of the guard’s barracks just like every other squire. As the privy could accommodate several people at once, he was proper enough to make sure no one else was in there before she entered. She glared at him as she shut the door and then turned and eyed the long wooden bench with six holes cut into the top. The smell emitting from them made her empty stomach churn. She gagged and bile rose up into her throat, but she forced it down with a swallow. She noted there wasn’t any wool or hemp with which to wipe herself afterward. In place of them were several piles of coarse plant husks and hay that made her itchy just looking at them. But she needed to relieve herself and knew her stubborn knight wouldn’t be deterred.
Best to do this quickly and be done with it.
She finished her business and carefully used the rough husks against her soft skin. It was almost more than she could bear. She was adjusting her clothing when Roland’s partially muffled voice came to her from the other side of the door.
“What’s taking so long, squire? I can’t imagine you have much to expend for all the food you haven’t eaten today. I’d like to use this facility too.”
At the rude reminder of her foodless day and being annoyed over the urge for her to hurry, a vengeful idea surfaced as she scrutinized the pile of wiping supplies. Sneering, she took her hand and swept all the husks and hay down into the holes before turning and opening the door. She exited into the moist, fresh air.