by Helen Gosney
“Good,” he said thoughtfully, “Well, Rowan, I think you should keep this knife of yours. It’s a damned sight better than anything we’d be giving you.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Now, I’d like you to warm up a bit. Don’t want you pulling a muscle before you’ve even started. Do the men do anything to warm themselves up a bit before they start work in the forest?”
Rowan looked puzzled for a moment and then his face cleared.
“Oh… yes, Sir,” he said, “They sort of stretch and… do you mind if I take my shirt off, Sir? ‘Tisn’t so easy to exercise in a shirt, and these woollen ones get too hot and prickly.”
Hibbon smiled slightly and nodded.
“You’re right there, lad. Away you go.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Rowan slipped his shirt off and stretched himself carefully in a way that was obviously a habit to him. Then without thinking about it he turned a series of neat backflips and somersaults as he always did to limber up a bit more.
Good Gods, Hibbon thought. He tried not to stare as the lad flowed through his warmup routine. He mightn’t be big by forester standards, but his strong lean body was broad shouldered and well muscled and his clan tattoo, a magnificent tree of some sort, covered most of the left side of his chest over his heart. His chest was hairless as yet, but Hibbon knew that adult foresters had very little body hair and their tattoos were always clearly visible. Mind you, their braids were always long and thick, and they could grow a good beard if they had a mind to. Odd how different folk could be in small ways like that. Hibbon pulled his attention back to Rowan’s tattoo. It truly was a splendid thing, he thought, wondering idly just what sort of tree it might be.
Of course tattoos weren’t unusual in the Guard, and Hibbon himself had several, but it’d be virtually unheard of for a fourteen-year-old Wirran lad to have one, and certainly not one like that. Physically, this lad was going to wipe the floor with the other recruits, flabby, useless idlers that some of them were. Hibbon glanced quickly at Telli and Coll and knew they were thinking the same thing.
“Do all foresters warm up like that, lad?” he asked curiously. He couldn’t imagine such big men casually turning handsprings like that, but certainly the few he’d met had been lithe and active in spite of their size.
Rowan nodded.
“Yes, Sir, mostly. Some of the older men don’t do the backflips and things so much, but all the rest of us do, Sir. They say it keeps you supple, Sir.”
“Aye, well, they’re right too. And which clan is that, lad?” Hibbon said, deciding to indulge his nosiness. He didn’t think the young fellow would mind: if you had a tattoo like that, you’d surely expect some curiosity about it.
“Forest Giant, Sir,” Rowan said softly, looking down at his tattoo for a moment, “We’re mainly in the north-east of Sian, as the trees themselves are.”
“I’d thought you might be from the north, with hair like that.”
Rowan glanced at the long auburn braid that had slipped over his shoulder.
“My Ma was from a northern clan, Sir, and she had red hair like this. Pa always says that I look a lot more like her kin than his. They’re a lot smaller too, Sir.”
“I think you’ll find that you won’t be small beside the Wirran lads, Rowan. They might be heavier, but you’ll be taller than most and stronger too, I’d imagine, when you’ve finished growing,” Hibbon said judiciously. He thought the boy might make it to six foot two or three or so, and though Wirrans certainly weren’t small, there weren’t too many taller than that, even in the Guard.
“I hope so, Sir.” That’d be an unexpected bonus, but he was used to holding his own with his much larger friends and kin.
“Now,” Hibbon said, “You’ve not held a sword before, I believe?”
“Only the Captain’s sword, Sir, earlier today.”
Hibbon smiled to himself at the lad’s utter honesty. He went to a bin nearby and came back with two wooden practice swords.
“Here you go, lad,” he said, tossing one to Rowan without warning.
As he had with Telli’s sabre, Rowan caught it with no trouble at all.
“What do you think of that?” Hibbon asked quietly, watching in fascination as the boy threw it from hand to hand and settled on a good left-handed grip.
“’Tisn’t very well balanced, Sir. ‘Tis too heavy at the tip,” Rowan replied. His eyes widened and he blushed as he realised what he’d said, and he hastened to make amends. “Er… your pardon, Sir. I meant no offence.”
“There’s no offence, lad. I asked for your opinion and you gave it, that’s all,” Hibbon glanced at Telli and Coll for a moment and smiled slightly. “Try this one.”
He swapped swords with Rowan and realised that, yes, the one the boy had had was indeed a bit tip-heavy. How fascinating, he thought. “What about that one, then?”
Rowan frowned thoughtfully as he felt for the balance of the wooden sword.
“’Tis better, Sir, but a bit… clumsy, Sir,” he said.
Hibbon nodded.
“Aye, they are. Saves folk cutting off their fingers and things though. Now. Do as I do.” Hibbon stepped through the basic moves of swordplay, surprised to see that Rowan could follow him quite well. “Are you a dancer, lad?” he asked.
Rowan’s eyes widened again.
“A… a dancer, Sir?” Gods, these Wirrans ask some strange things, he thought.
“Aye,” Hibbon said, “You know… can you manage to dance with the lasses at Year’s Turn and not stomp all over their feet? More or less finish at the same time as the music?”
“Oh… yes, Sir. My Gran and my sister would box my ears if I stood on their toes, Sir. Any of the lasses at home would… ‘tis a great aid to learning, Gran says.”
Hibbon heard muffled snorts of laughter from Telli and Coll and had to try hard not to chuckle himself, but the new recruit was so polite and trying so hard to do the right thing that it didn’t seem fair to. He smiled at the lad and saw him relax a little.
“My old Gran was a bit like that too. Now, Rowan… I want to try something here. I want you to imagine that you’re wandering along, minding your own business. Don’t ask me why, but you’ve left your axe at home and your sister is with you… and now I jump out of the bushes at you, like this, waving a sword at you. What would you do?”
He could see that Rowan had subtly altered his stance and his grip on the sword without thinking about it and his other hand had gone to the knife at his hip.
“I’d ask you what you thought you were doing, Sir, and if you kept coming with your sword like that, threatening Rose, I’d throw my knife at you,” Rowan said with barely a hesitation.
Dear Gods, Hibbon thought. He’d probably do me a nasty mischief with the cursed thing too, if his excellent efforts at the post were anything to go by. This lad certainly doesn’t mess about, but then you probably couldn’t in the deep forests.
“Ah. But you miss me with it, and you’ve got your own trusty sword right there in your hand. And I’m getting closer to your sister too.”
Rowan stared at him in amazement. Nobody’d attack a woman in the forests. Their life wouldn’t be worth living when the clans caught up with them, as they certainly would.
“She’d probably throw a knife at you too, Sir, but if she missed I’d tell her to run…” he glanced at the practice sword in his hand, then looked Hibbon in the eye, “I’d be wishing I had my axe, Sir, instead of this thing, but…” he stepped forward and faced the Sword Master, sword at the ready as he’d just been shown.
Hibbon nodded thoughtfully, noting the lad’s excellent balance and businesslike demeanour. If he was nervous, he wasn’t showing it.
“You wouldn’t run too?” he said softly.
“No, Sir. I can run faster than Rose… that’s my sister, Sir… so you might be able to catch her too. No, I’d try and fight you, Sir, or at least slow you down so she could get away.”
“Then do it.”
>
Rowan stared at him again, wished devoutly for an axe, and then hefted the sword in his hand and did as bidden.
Naturally the Sword Master fended him off with little trouble, but all the same Hibbon was surprised at the youngster’s strength and courage and sheer raw talent with the blade. And he was light-footed, beautifully balanced and very fast. In short, he saw even more than Telli had seen.
“You’ve done well, lad. Very well,” he said slowly. He’d been astonished when, after being disarmed, Rowan had dived to pick up the fallen sword, somersaulted to his feet and kept on fighting. Amazing, truly amazing. He was such a polite, quietly spoken lad, but he had a true fighter’s instincts and he looked like he’d never give up. Well, foresters were well known as being stubborn buggers. “You said you’d be wishing you had your axe…”
“Yes, Sir. Um… aye, Sir, I mean. I’d do better with an axe, Sir.”
Hibbon knew that would be no more than the simple truth. He went to a different bin, came back with two wooden practice axes and tossed one to Rowan. The look on the lad’s face as he caught the clumsy weapon and tossed it from hand to hand as it seemed he always did, spoke volumes.
“Now, what do you think of that, laddie?”
Rowan shook his head slightly. He’d prayed for an axe and he’d got this… thing.
“I… I don’t think I could say anything polite, Sir, with all respect. ‘Tisn’t anything like my axe,” he said softly.
“Ah. I forgot for a moment you’d be used to a bloody good axe. Never mind. Now, this time I’ve leapt out of the bushes at you armed with an axe. And there you are with your own… er… trusty axe in your hand. I’m sorry to say that I’ve still got evil designs on your poor sister, so…?”
“I’d stop you, Sir, or do my damnedest to.” Rowan was more confident with an axe in his hand, even a horrible one like this.
“Good lad. Away you go.”
This time Hibbon found he had much more of a handful to contend with. Even with a clumsy practice axe, the Siannen lad was strong and sure with his blows and stunningly fast. The Sword Master prevailed in the end, but it was a surprisingly close-fought thing. Telli and Coll watched in amazement.
“Bloody Hells, lad. Who taught you to fight like that?” Telli asked in astonishment.
Rowan looked surprised at the other’s surprise.
“Pa taught me how to use an axe, Sir. And of course Griff and some of the other men out in the forest taught me a bit more,” he said, “But we… all of us are taught how to dance with an axe, Sir, the lasses too. Some of my kin would probably disown me if I was hopeless, Sir.”
“I don’t think there’s much fear of them doing that, laddie,” Telli replied.
And it’s no wonder that Sian has never been taken by force if all foresters can ‘dance with an axe’ like that, he thought. Lucky they’re such a peaceful folk, really – they’d be bloody unstoppable if provoked. And I shouldn’t think there’d be anyone daft enough to try and attack their womenfolk if they can use an axe like young Rowan can. No wonder he looked so surprised when Hibbon suggested it.
Sword Master Hibbon was even more fascinated by the sheer talent and promise this young lad was showing. He was starting to wonder if perhaps Telli might have underestimated him.
“Rowan, when you say ‘dance with the axe’, do you mean a sort of exercise regime with it? A series of movements and exercises like the sword ones that I started to show you?” he asked.
“Um… sort of, Sir, I suppose. I hadn’t thought of it like that, but… yes, I suppose it is in some ways,” Rowan said slowly.
“Show me,” Hibbon said softly, “You’re not too tired yet, are you?”
Rowan raised an eyebrow in surprise that Hibbon might think he was so feeble and unfit that he’d worn himself out already, but he answered politely, “No, Sir, I’m not tired yet. We work a lot harder than this in the forest, Sir. A lot longer, too.”
“Aye, I’m sure you do. Your Pa said you can keep up with the older men all day.”
“Yes, Sir. Well, all of us can except for the youngsters just starting out in the trees, they sometimes struggle a bit and need looking after. But after a few months we can more or less hold our own, Sir. If we can’t, we’ll be moved to something else for a while until we grow a bit bigger and stronger, Sir.”
Hibbon nodded thoughtfully. He doubted this young fellow would have been moved on anywhere where things were easier, though he’d be considered small by forester standards. The foresters’ hunters were the fittest and toughest men he’d ever heard of and Rowan ran regularly with them. Oh, the other recruits were in for an interesting time if they decided to push this lad around, as they undoubtedly would. He was very quiet and very polite, but Hibbon didn’t think he’d put up with any nonsense and he certainly had the physical prowess to back himself. The Sword Master couldn’t help smiling at the thought of some of those useless, arrogant lumps of lads being put back in their boxes by this young Siannen.
“Show me how you dance with the axe, laddie,” he said.
“Yes, Sir.”
Rowan flowed through a comprehensive drill with the practice axe. He was very light on his feet and very fast too, and his balance was perfect as the axe flew from hand to hand. His speed and grace and absolute concentration on the job in hand were extraordinary.
“Bloody Hells, Captain,” Coll muttered, “I’m damned glad this young fellow’s going to be on our side!”
“Aye, Coll. And this is really only a training drill, too, remember. I’m sure if he was pushed he could do even better.”
“Great Beldar’s britches. And he’s what? Fourteen? What will he be like in a couple of years with a damned decent weapon in his hand?”
“I wish he’d brought his axe, so we might see,” Hibbon said very softly.
Telli thought for a moment of the oddly formal way that Rowan had handed his axe to his father for safekeeping while he was away from the forests. Strange, he thought, but there’s a hell of a lot that the foresters keep to themselves. His Siannen Gran had always said they were a close-mouthed lot. He could barely believe that he’d actually recruited one, and such a promising one at that.
“Aye… well, we’d better let him go and get organised, I suppose,” he said.
He turned to Rowan. The lad had worked up a bit of a sweat, but he was breathing easily and he looked like he still had plenty of strength in reserve. For a moment Telli wished he’d seen Rowan dance with his own axe: he thought it would have been well worth watching.
“Thank you, Rowan,” he said thoughtfully, “Off you go with Sergeant Coll to the barracks now, get cleaned up a bit and meet the other lads before supper.”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” Rowan said. He picked up his shirt and put it back on, then headed off with Sergeant Coll.
**********
“Well?” Telli said softly as his new recruit left the salle.
Hibbon raised an eyebrow at him and laughed.
“You know damned well what I’m going to say to you, you crafty bugger. But I’ll say it anyway… That lad is going to do very, very well, Telli. I don’t know when I’ve ever seen such sheer raw talent with a blade, and as for the axe…! Shame we didn’t have time to try him out with a bow, but if he’s been running with the forester hunters, he’s got to be good with one; very damned good,” he put the practice weapons back in their bins, thinking for a moment of how the lad had picked up on the tip-heavy sword. How very interesting that was. “The lad’s strong, he’s very fast and he’s very damned fit and well balanced. And did you see, he never hesitated to take me on… not foolhardy, but he didn’t mess about and he didn’t swing the blade like he was swatting flies. He’s going to make the rest of the young lads sit up and take notice. I hope they won’t give him too hard a time, with his pretty face and his long hair, but truly I think he’ll be able to look after himself all right.” Hibbon laughed again. “He’ll have had to hold his own against the other lads at home and they’
d all be a lot bigger than him, I’m thinking. They’re not bullies, the foresters… more like gentle giants, most of them, but by the Gods I wouldn’t like to take any of them on.”
Telli thought about Rowan’s father, Rhys. A softly spoken, beautifully mannered man, he was huge and heavily muscled, but as lightfooted and as well balanced as his son and he had an air of quiet competence about him. No, he wouldn’t like to take him on either, and certainly not if his axe was anywhere handy. Rowan’s efforts with the practice axe had been astonishing, and he was only fourteen when all was said and done. Rhys would probably be devastating if pushed. And it was said the foresters knew some very effective unarmed combat techniques too. No, it didn’t bear thinking about. He said as much and Hibbon grinned at him.
“Just as well they’re such peaceful folk, I’ve often thought. Now, I assume young Rowan can ride? Unless he walked here from Sian?” he said.
Telli laughed.
“Hardly. No, his Pa says the boy can ride anything, and he was perfectly happy talking to a couple of troop horses while I was in Coll’s office. He seems to have a bit of a way with them…”
“Did his Pa happen to say if he’s got any faults?” Hibbon knew that a forester would be honest and straightforward about such things.
“Funny you should say that. Rhys said the lad’s main fault is that he’s bloody stubborn…”
“Gods! Isn’t every forester ever born bloody stubborn!”
“Aye, well, Rhys did say it was a bit like the pot calling the pan a cooking implement,” Telli chuckled again. He’d liked the big forester a lot. “Oh, and he said Rowan can be feisty.”
“Truly? He seems like such a quiet, polite lad,” Hibbon said, “Respectful.”
“Aye, he is too, but it seems he’s got a fiery temper if he’s not careful. He’s learnt to control it, and it takes a lot to upset him; he certainly doesn’t fly off the handle over nothing. Seems he’s not a lad to go looking for a fight, but he won’t back away from one either, if he’s pushed.”