by M. S. Brook
“I expect you think it’s a bad idea too.” He waited for me to look up, but I pretended that a row of yarrow plants demanded all of my attention.
“Daryn and Clare are worried about you. They want me to explain why this scheme of yours won’t work.”
I kicked at a hard clod of earth and crumbled it to bits with my boot.
“The only outcome they can see is that you will be hurt. Hurt if they forbid it and hurt if you go forward. Their natural response is to try to shield you.”
“What do you think?”
“I’ve convinced your parents to let you decide.”
I looked up quickly. “How did you do that?”
“I told them that the matter won’t be settled in your heart if someone makes the decision for you.” He must have seen the quick rush of elation in my face, for he said, “Wait a bit. Sometimes you can be a little too hasty. Especially when you feel wronged. But in this case, you must be sure of what you want—because it will cost you.”
“What do you mean?”
“The soldier who sticks his head over a wall will attract a storm of arrows. To my knowledge, no young woman has ever attempted to take Guardian training. If you go forward with this, some people aren’t going to like it. Not that it’s bad to shake things up, but you have to be prepared for what happens next.”
Chapter 10
By the time the fortnight was up, I’d worried my whole life down to two possible outcomes: warrior training or utter failure. Showing up on the training field would be, as Uncle Leo put it, “sticking my head over the wall,” but how else would I get to the other side?
I made sure to arrive early at the training field. Already a small crowd had gathered. Those I didn’t recognize I guessed were new boys come from other parts of Canwyrrie to join the Guardians. Lord Kempton and a group of officers were deep in conversation and didn’t notice my arrival. But the boys did.
“Aidriana! What are you doing here?” Rowland asked.
“Same as you. I’m here to become a warrior.”
His forehead wrinkled in surprise at my declaration. “But that’s not for girls.”
“Why not? Women can be warriors too.”
Several of the boys snickered. “War is man’s work,” one of them said.
“Who says?”
They laughed again, and the boy said, “Everyone knows it. Are you really that thick here at Highfield?”
Arvel was setting up archery targets. He turned around to face the speaker, a new boy whose red hair rivaled Rowland’s. “Hey there, Brady, let her be!” Arvel was bigger and older than most of the boys. They piped down, but didn’t stop staring at me, waiting for me to leave. I stood my ground and stared right back. Still, I was a little relieved when Lord Kempton walked over to us.
“Run along now,” he said to me. “We’re getting ready to begin warfare training.”
“Yes, my lord. That’s why I’m here. I want to be a warrior. You need everyone to do their part. I heard you say so at the Harvest festival.” There was muffled laughter behind me, but I ignored it.
“You were obviously listening closely,” Lord Kempton said, emphasizing each word. “So you must have heard me call for young men. Now, we can all see that you are a young lady, and young ladies are not warriors.” He looked down at me. “You are to forget whatever wild fancies you may have about this, and go home immediately.”
My heart was pounding, and I felt the blood rush to my head in a confusing swirl. Grasping for anything that might further my cause, I said, “My lord, I have skills. Uncle Lionel is training me. Please allow me to try for a place.”
The laughter behind me grew louder, and Lord Kempton’s face went red. A small vein stood out on his flushed temple, and the cords of his neck seemed to bulge. I should have heeded the signs, but I was desperate to convince him. I blindly stumbled on. “And besides, women were warriors in ancient times. Remember Nerys the Seer? She drove invaders out of the Northlands. Papa has told me her story many times, and I—”
“You would bring bedtime stories to my training field?”
“Sir, I—”
It wasn’t a question Lord Kempton meant for me to answer. His voice roared like thunder. “You are to leave this field at once! It’s time you realize that your place is at home, like every other girl in Canwyrrie.”
No one had ever shouted at me like that before. Every sinew in my body was quivering, screaming at me to run for cover, far away from Lord Kempton and the cluster of boys who had gathered to enjoy my humiliation. But something deep inside of me said to hold my head high and not let them see how I felt.
I bobbed my head respectfully and said, “Yes, my lord.” Then I turned and walked away without haste, chin up, back as stiff as a pole.
The minute I was out of their sight, I gave into my feelings and ran all the way around the side of the hill to the herb garden below the south wall, arms and legs pumping as fast as I could go. The sun wasn’t strong enough to warm the damp ground, but I threw myself down on it anyway, leaning my back against the south wall, gasping for breath.
It was over. With no chance to prove myself.
I sat on the damp grass and let the humiliation wash over me. I’d been rejected for who I was. They didn’t care about my strength or skill or desire; they wouldn’t have cared if they knew about my dream. They looked at me and saw a girl, and that was all that mattered.
Uncle Leo, Mama, and Papa had tried to warn me, but I’d forged ahead anyway. I’d stuck my head up over the wall and made myself a target of ridicule. The arrows had flown hard and fast, finding their mark in my heart.
I didn’t try to stop the tears. It didn’t matter now—no one was here to see, and anyway, I had no reputation to protect. I pulled my knees up and hugged them to my chest, recalling the first time I’d dreamed of being a warrior. The memory of the young woman on the golden warhorse was as vivid and real as ever. I wondered what she would have done in my place. It was hard to imagine that she would be rejected. She was so confident, so accomplished. A brilliant warrior like her would never be turned away. Perhaps my dreams had betrayed me, making me think I was more than I really was. Maybe it was just a silly idea after all.
And what if it was? I felt cold at the thought. What if it was a dream I could never touch? A mere wish, as far out of reach as Queen Nerys and her starry realm in the heavens?
I scrubbed the salty tracks off my cheeks, propped my chin in my hands, and stared across the meadows and wooded hills shrouded in autumn’s cool mist. Uncle Leo eventually found me there. He sat down beside me and, in his quiet way, asked me to tell him everything. He listened to my story without response except to stroke his beard now and again.
“I felt so small and foolish,” I said, “and it seemed like they wanted me to feel that way.”
He nodded. “If it’s any consolation, your parents and I don’t take this lightly. We were all worried that you would be hurt, but I thought it might be what was needed to wake you up.”
I looked at him, puzzled by the turn he’d taken. “What do you mean?”
He rubbed his beard for a thoughtful moment. “Trials like this allow us to see what is in our own heart. No one can teach you this, but you will never understand desire until you feel its pain. You have to know in your heart that it’s worth any cost.”
Before I could take it all in, he said, “See, becoming a warrior, especially as a woman, will demand a high price—your desire must rise to equal the value of your dream or you won’t be able to afford it. In these times you will have to be strong enough to follow your heart. You must learn not to be swayed by the judgments and predictions of others. One day the weapons used against you will not be mocking words and laughter, but swords and arrows.”
“Then…you’re not saying I can’t be a warrior?”
“No one can tell you what you can
or cannot be. Not even Lord Kempton.”
“But how can I become a warrior if I’m not allowed to take the training?”
“No amount of training can make a warrior. It’s a matter of the heart. If the heart is there, then we only have to add the training—that’s the easy part. See, a warrior is more than just a fighter. A warrior is seasoned, and that doesn’t just happen with training. A warrior grows strong by pushing through disappointments and failures, by being faithful and never giving up. Think about it. You’ve fought a battle today and proved that you have the heart of a warrior. Now your passion will make a way for you to grow into it.”
I looked at him, still hardly daring to hope, and he smiled back at me. “You’re stronger now than you were this morning.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep, slow breath. He was right. I already felt stronger. “So what do I do?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking—and talking to your parents, and I’d like to offer my services. It won’t be like we’ve done in the past. You’re old enough for serious training now. But if you’re interested—”
“Interested? Oh, Uncle Leo!”
“Then speak to your mother and father—”
“But they won’t approve,” I said with a moan. “Not after this muddle.”
“Tell them what happened. We’ll talk together tonight, the four of us.”
With a lighter heart I went back home, where I found Mama sweeping the oaken floor of our sitting room. She looked at my face and put aside the broom, sliding a comforting arm around my waist. This time, telling what happened didn’t seem as painful.
When I was done, Mama pressed her teary cheek next to mine. “When you first came to us, so sweet, so innocent of the terrible war you’d escaped, losing your parents and your homeland, I felt such a desire to protect you from ever experiencing the like again. But now you are fifteen years of age. You’ll soon be grown up, and I realize I cannot always protect you. I don’t understand this desire of yours, nor did I understand how much it means to you—”
“Mama, I’m so sorry for what I said! I didn’t mean it.”
“I know, dear, but there was truth in what you said. I’ve known from the very beginning that you were a unique child. Perhaps I didn’t want to see that you might have an unusual path to follow.”
“I never knew you thought anything like that.”
Mama smiled and smoothed a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “Now, my darling, here is what we will do. You will tell your Papa what happened, and then we will put this day behind us.”
Uncle Leo came after evenfest. The night was cool enough to make the warmth of the fire welcome as we sat at the table. Mama and Papa did not seem surprised when Uncle Leo made a formal offer to train me in the ways of the warrior. He explained what the training would entail, addressing Mama and Papa’s concerns. “I’ve trained many young warriors,” he said. “I know how to make Aidriana strong without exposing her to unnecessary risks.”
Papa looked at Mama. “I think our daughter is not one to follow the well-trodden path. Perhaps it is best if she learns what Leo has to teach her.”
Mama hesitated. “I can’t say I truly like it…nor can I stand in the way.”
“Others of the Household will also not like it,” Uncle Leo said.
Papa shrugged. “The decision is ours.”
“Well, then. We will train early in the morning before lessons and again before evenfest, as long as we have light.” I let out a sigh of relief, and Uncle Leo looked at me. “You’ll have to work longer hours than the boys in Guardian training. It may feel like a heavy load.”
“I don’t mind, and thank you all for allowing this.” My heart was full. I saw how much they were sacrificing for me, but I didn’t know how to say it.
“It’s all settled, then,” Mama said. “I have a jug of cider cooling on the back step.”
When our cups were filled, Papa stood and announced with a flourish: “To our Aidriana, warrior in training!” We chuckled and raised our cups. And then we drank to the honor of the king. To me, it was more like a solemn promise than a toast. Twilight faded far into the night, but we stayed at the table, savoring the warm firelight and the talk of dreams and plans.
Uncle Leo and I began training the following evening. As soon as I finished afternoon chores, we saddled up and rode to the edge of the forest where there was a practice course with all sorts of rocks and fallen logs in the way. We tied the horses near clumps of grass, but they weren’t interested in grazing. They stamped and blew steamy clouds into the sharp air, looking as if they’d rather be in their warm stable for the evening.
My first lesson was about obstacles. Appropriate, Uncle Leo said, because a warrior’s way was always filled with challenges. “A warrior deals with obstacles by going around them, over them, or through them. Let’s try it. Hold your cudgel like so. Good, now follow me.”
We went at a run, darting around trees and over logs. We swiped at bushes with our cudgels and shoved our way through thickets until I was panting. Uncle Leo stopped for a rest, no doubt for my benefit, because he wasn’t short of breath. “When meeting obstacles,” he said, “you must first understand your own strengths and weaknesses. Let’s take something you’ve already run up against—the fact that you’re a woman. You’re tall and lithe, but you’ll soon learn that no matter how hard you work, you’ll never be quite as strong as a man.”
“But that’s not fair,” I said, still out of breath and frustrated with my inability to keep pace with him. “How can I be a warrior if I’m doomed to lose from the start? Why am I even trying?”
“Mm. Good questions. I know this sounds wrong, but you’d better forget about the word fair. The one who thinks too much about fairness will get bitter. There’s another way to look at it.” Uncle Leo fished in his pocket. He pulled out a golden coin and pressed it into my palm. “See what it says?” I stared at the coin in my hand. The intertwined letters H of E were stamped on it.
“Flip it over,” said Uncle Leo.
I turned it over. A golden crown showed in my palm.
“Like most things you’ll come across, this coin has two sides. But you can only look at one side at a time. See?” He turned the coin in my hand again. “You can look at your weakness, or you can flip it over and find the hidden strength that’s waiting to be discovered. What looks like weakness to you will force you to seek new ways to be strong. Your battle may not look like any other warrior’s battle, but you’ll have to learn what works for you, and if it’s different, that’s all the better. Think of it as a journey.”
I went to hand the coin back, but he shook his head. “Keep it. I want you to remember to look for the other side.”
I looked at the crown again and slipped it into my pocket. “Thank you, Uncle.”
He nodded. “No matter what you discover on your journey, you’ll need to be grounded in preparation and skill. So let’s get back to it. Keep forward on your toes, body low and centered. Good. Now let’s do the same run, only faster.”
We worked the drills over and over until my legs and chest burned like fire. The horses weren’t the only ones happy when it got dark and we had to head back to Papa’s stable behind the smithy. Uncle Leo was keeping Arrow there too. When we had the horses rubbed down and comfortable, he said, “Tomorrow morning we’ll meet early, before your lessons. We’ll begin with running in the fields to strengthen your endurance.”
I groaned.
“Don’t worry, you’re going to love what it does for you.” He stopped to stretch, rubbing the small of his back, and I raised my eyebrows.
“Not feeling it too, are you?”
“Just wait. We’ll see who’s moaning tomorrow morning!”
After evenfest, I sat for a while on the green, letting the cool night air wash over me. I leaned up against my favorite rock and gazed at the stars. Queen Nerys burned
red hot in her far-away kingdom, reminding me that my dream was possible. I thumped the palm of my right hand over my heart and whispered. “I salute you, Lady. From now on, we’re sisters.”
Chapter 11
A year and more sped by as I learned the ways of the warrior with Uncle Leo. He was proven right in his prediction that many in the Household would not like to see me in training. Their disapproval was galling, but there was nothing I could do to resolve the situation short of quitting my dream. Uncle Leo was quick to notice when my vexation was at a high point. “Don’t waste your strength on anger,” he’d often say to me, “especially not with people who don’t understand who you are. Anger leads you nowhere. It will sap your blood and cloud your vision.”
On a chilly afternoon in spring, I had an opportunity to practice Uncle Leo’s advice. Papa was out mending a gate on Crown farmlands, and Uncle Fergal was on patrol. I was minding the smithy, when my peaceful work was interrupted by Lord Kempton stepping into the doorway. “Oh, it’s you. Tell Daryn my horse has thrown a shoe.”
“He’s not here, my lord. He’s repairing the gate at Lambsmead.”
“When will he be back?” Lord Kempton sounded irritated, and I made sure to practice the respect Uncle Leo had drilled into me, a task made all the harder by his tone.
“Likely not until evenfest, my lord.”
Lord Kempton strode back to his horse and then turned and came halfway back again. “This is all very inconvenient. I am making a short journey in the morning, and I am partial to this horse.” He made an impatient wave with his arm. “With Fergal often gone on patrol, Daryn needs to take on an apprentice. This will not do!”
“I can take care of your horse, Lord Kempton.” It was out before I thought it through, but I was angry at being disregarded. I’d helped Papa shoe countless horses. Of course, that wasn’t the same as being adept myself, but I couldn’t let him walk away thinking I wasn’t up to what an apprentice could do.
Lord Kempton hesitated. I saw in his face that I’d created a quandary for him. He didn’t approve of my being there, but he was impatient to have his horse shod. He weighed it out, and I expected him to say he’d come back later, but instead he shrugged. “Very well then, go ahead.”