Stars exploded in his vision and he felt the world tipping up to meet him. He hit the tatami floor, and everything went dark for a moment. He came to as Jurou was raising his legs off the ground. “Just relax a moment,” Jurou said calmly. “Let the blood return to your head.”
William was still too dazed to respond. He stared at the ceiling, waiting for his thoughts to reconvene on a central topic. “You see,” Jurou said. “Everything is a weapon. My roundhouse kick you easily blocked, but when you thought you had me in a corner, that the wall was my prison, it became my weapon and my surprise attack. In battle, seeing such opportunity is the difference between life and death.”
“There are not too many walls on battlefields, Jurou,” William mumbled rubbing his sore jaw, vaguely remembering a similar protest to his trainer at some point in the past.
“Think obliquely,” Jurou barked, recognizing that William was just being obstinate. “Never do what your opponent expects. Stepping into a blow when you would naturally shrink from it puts you out of danger and within striking distance. Punching the shoulder of an opponent drawing back for a strike will stop that strike. Breaking the finger of a much stronger man will bring him to his knees as surely as overpowering him ever will.”
“What about fair play?”
“This is your life!” Jurou barked. “The time for fair play is before the battle has begun. If you should not be at odds with an opponent, you halt the situation before it deteriorates to combat. But once the battle is joined, there is only the living and the dead! Your opponents are not fellowmen, they are objects to be eliminated before they eliminate you. You are not fighting, you are killing. Never use two strokes to kill when one will do. If his groin or throat is exposed, do not spend time trying to best him at swordplay, shove your blade through the exposed spot and move on. You are not fighting with them; you are killing them. Get that straight in your mind now. There is a difference.”
“So go for the weak points?” William said, trying to sum up the many lessons Jurou was throwing at him.
Jurou sighed. “Name the striking points.”
Now it was William’s turn to sigh. “The eyes, bridge of the nose, bottom of the nose, front of the chin,” he began to recite the list of vulnerable spots on the human body with no enthusiasm. He was on his feet again but still not feeling particularly stable.
“Yes, yes, but what else?” Jurou interrupted him with a wave of his hand.
“I do not understand.”
“This is what we have been talking about,” Jurou said. “Think obliquely.”
“I still do not understand. Pressure points are pressure points.”
“Think obliquely. Everything is a weakness. Everything. What happens if you splash water in someone’s face?”
William's eye narrowed. “Are you feeling alright, Jurou?” he asked.
“What happens?” Jurou snapped, his growing impatience manifesting itself.
“I don’t know; he flinches, I suppose.”
“That's right. He flinches. He cannot help it. It is a natural reaction. The curious thing is that even in a life and death struggle, he will still flinch even when doing so could cost him his life."
“People see what they expect to see. A man swings a weapon at you, a person sees only reacting and avoiding the weapon. You must see everything. Where he is exposed, where he is vulnerable. If you merely block his swing and strike back, you could be fighting all day with a single opponent. However, if you step inside his stroke and run your blade through his visor, it is over.”
William could not help being startled by the cold efficiency of his words. “Aren't you supposed to be teaching me Eastern philosophies on peace and the sanctity of life?”
“Do you want to learn philosophy, or do you want to learn how to stay alive?” Jurou was not amused. He did not seem to be in particularly good humor today, and William told him so.
“There are certain lessons that I have to know you are learning, William. You once asked me if speed could overcome strength. Well, this is the way that speed can overcome strength. These methods narrow the gaps between the natural abilities of those facing each other. It is a pity that you do not seem to be taking this seriously. This could be the difference between your being a legendary warrior or a head on a pike. You have the skills, William. The question is will you learn to apply them before it is too late?”
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWO
“Enough, John,” Martha snapped at him. “You asked for time to prepare, which I respected at the time. But that was six years ago. My hair grows greyer and my back more hunched under the burden that should have been yours, and not only have you not owned up to your responsibility, but you seem to have adopted a number of vices that are making you increasingly unfit to rule in your father's stead.”
John's lip curled at the mention of Braden Dawning. “My father,” he sneered. “He was a despicable person, and the less I am like him, the better person I consider myself to be.”
Martha was taken aback at her son’s disrespectful words. She had noted the decline in his customary humble attitude over the last year, but she had never heard him speak of his father with such open disdain. “Your father had a great many faults, I will grant you,” she said to her son, “but he raised this barony to power singlehandedly. He avoided vices that he knew would put him into compromising positions. And what's this I hear of you frequenting local taverns, consorting with ladies of ill-repute? And still you persist in fraternizing with Lindsay. The baron of Dawning Court cannot marry a villein,” she repeatedly firmly.
“You think I don't know that?” John demanded. “We would have been married ages ago, but I knew my mother, the great Regent of the most powerful barony in the world, forbids it. Everyone knows that!”
“These are dangerous times, John. Dawning Court needs a strong leader, and she needs it now. We no longer only face threats from outside. I have reason to fear that Richard's ambitions will lead him back here, where he will set his sights on this barony from which to launch his quest for power. If he succeeds here, he will march all over England in his pursuit of ever more power.”
“Sounds like Richard is a son that Braden would be proud of.”
“But he cannot win. He will have some success, but the other barons will unite against him, and even the crown will join them when the king recognizes that the throne is the last step in Richard's complete ascendancy. Richard will lose everything. We will lose everything!”
“Lose everything?” John's sneer was back. “What do I have to lose? You think I care about any of this?”
“You should care about this. At one time, John, I thought you would be a great leader because you did not seek for power. You did not want the responsibility, and that is what set you apart from Richard. You would have used the sword only reluctantly, and our people would have flourished under your reign. But now all I see is you bringing shame on our house with each passing day.”
“That is right. Because I am shameful. Father said so; I know you must think so.”
“Enough with this self-pity,” Martha said coldly. “You will sever all ties with your vices and with Lindsay, and you will step up and take your place at the head of the house of Dawning!”
“Sever ties with Lindsay?” John snorted. “She is the only one that wants nothing from me. She is the only one that is not ashamed of me. Why would I ever sever ties with the one person in this world that actually loves me?”
“John, do not tell me that you did not know this was coming. I warned you more times than I can count that you needed to end that relationship. The fact that you chose to persist, well, you have no one to blame but yourself.”
“Lindsay understands me. She listens instead of just telling me what I have to do and why I am such a disappointment to everyone. I would rather be with her than here at court with all these conniving, devious manipulators.”
Martha drew herself up. “You walk a dangerous course that puts far more than yourself
at risk. I want you to step up and be a man and accept your birthright, but I will not allow it unless you will rule with honor and strengthen our house. Unless you break off this foolish infatuation with this girl and demonstrate you are willing to get out of your own selfish desires for the greater good, then you are not fit to be baron.”
“Not fit? And if I choose to take it, how will you stop me?”
“I will have no choice but to disavow you.”
“Disavow?” John was shocked. “You cannot disavow the rightful heir.”
“As regent, I carry all the powers of the office and can therefore disavow any knight I choose. And while it is true, you could make a claim anyway and try to start a civil war, who do you think the knights pledged to Dawning Court will follow: the Baroness who was at the elbow of the greatest baron they have ever known—the baron most of them pledged their fealty to—or the boozing, fraternizing son?” John glared at her defiantly. “Still believe your behavior has no effect on our reputation?”
“You would disavow me for marrying a girl I love rather than making a political match?”
“It will bring me no pleasure to do so. But I must ensure that you do not spread the consequences of this disastrous union over the rest of our family and the thousands of people that live under the auspices of the Dawnings and look to us for safety and stability in these tumultuous times.”
John glared at her, and she returned his look calmly, if not sadly. At last John snorted. “Very well, you will get your wish. I cannot conceive of a worse fate than being sentenced to rot as the baron and have all the responsibility for thousands of lives heaped upon me.” Martha did not speak. She only watched him sadly.
“I will not be baron. I do not even want to be baron,” John said with more force this time as if the act of admitting it were strengthening his resolve. “I am going to marry Lindsay.”
Martha sighed. “John, please just consider what you are doing. There is more at stake here than you and me.”
“I do not care, Mother,” John said. “This is not my concern any longer. I have been thinking about this for a long time, and now that you have made it a choice between Lindsay and the barony, it has become an easy choice at that.”
“John, if you do not accept your responsibility, Richard is next in line. Richard will be disastrous as baron. He will wreak havoc on his people and all those around us. He is too reckless, too self-centered. You have always been a balance to Richard, and we need you in this seat.”
“Sorry, Mother, my mind is made up,” John said as he turned to go.
“John, if you turn your back on your responsibility, you are turning your back on everything—on everyone that is depending on you. I will have no choice but to turn my back on you as well—to disavow you for these actions. You will have no place here any longer.”
John's footsteps slowed, and he stopped a few paces from the door but did not turn around.
“So be it, Mother. I will sleep better at night knowing that I did the courageous thing by not making myself baron. I hope you can console yourself with the same thought.”
“John, please—” was the last thing Martha said to him, and the door clicked behind him.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THREE
The congregation stood in the chapel, awaiting Mary’s entrance. Henry stood at the front next to Father Garand, trying not to look as terrified as he felt. He was dressed in a regal-looking silk outfit with the Dawning crest emblazoned on it, a short cloak, and shoes that turned up at the toes.
“Stop fidgeting,” Roland muttered to him out of the side of his mouth. Henry became aware that he was swaying back and forth nervously. There was ice in the pit of his stomach.
“What if I blow it?” he murmured back to Roland.
“You have to say two words. If you forget them, I will step in and marry her.”
“I bet you would.”
Suddenly the organ blared to life. Several moments later the door at the back of the church opened and Mary entered the hall in a beautiful flowing gown that swept dramatically out across the floor behind her. Her hair was cascading down under a corselet with white flowers woven into it. Everyone was entranced as she methodically made her way up the aisle, but none more so than Henry. She joined him on the dais, and he could not stop gawking at how beautiful she looked. She extended her hand to take his. He dumbly gave his and let himself be turned toward Father Garand.
“Welcome,” Father Garand said loudly to the assembly, but Henry was not listening. He could not believe he was here. Everything had happened so fast. He had been in despair over one woman only a few months before, and now here he was marrying someone completely different. His soul sickness had not completely dissipated in the intervening weeks. He still felt a pang when he saw Leah or was reminded of that fateful day in a bloody field in Persia, but he pushed all that aside. The battle was lost and Leah had rejected him. That was the past and this was the present. And this was his moment.
Henry was still lost in his reverie when Roland nudged him. He started and noticed that Mary was looking at him with an intent expression, and Father Garand seemed to be waiting for something.
“Uh—I do,” he said, embarrassed. The congregation tittered slightly.
A moment later Henry was awkwardly kissing Mary, and the ceremony was over. He had missed the whole thing, but he was satisfied with the parts he would retain in his memory forever. The way Mary looked. The awkward kiss, his friends and family assembled for the occasion. He was content.
***
William was next to the large center aisle, standing next to Richard and Thomas in the Dawning family pew near the front of the chapel. His mind was full on this occasion, and he was deliberately trying to avoid Leah's gaze. She kept throwing him long, meaningful looks from an opposite pew that made him exceedingly uncomfortable.
Then there was the matter of Henry taking Mary into the family. Though he personally had his doubts about the prospect, to say the two did not look nice together would have been disingenuous. This may be a bad situation, but it was Henry’s right to choose his own companion. Not that it mattered, William thought. Henry was as pigheaded as the rest of them. The whole family could have lined up and forbidden the marriage, and he would have married her anyway. This had already happened with John, and to a lesser extent Thomas, although with Thomas it was for different reasons the family objected. Surely Henry would be no different.
William’s eyes fell on Leah again for the hundredth time that morning. Wherever he looked, his eyes always seemed to come back to his friend, who looked especially striking this morning in her spring dress. He quickly averted his eyes when she glanced over, and he found his gaze resting several pews behind Leah. All at once he was breathless. William felt as though his heart had stopped. Seated there, conversing in quiet tones with those around her, was a stunningly beautiful woman the likes of which William had never seen. Her dark hair was pulled back away from her face and flowed down her back. Her bronze skin made her look exotic. She just happened to glance over as William was first noticing her, and when her dark eyes fell on William, they took his breath away. She met his eyes and deliberately looked away as if taking no notice of him. Instead, she tossed her hair, threw her long, dark locks back over her shoulder, and deliberately did not look his way again.
Throughout the ceremony William kept finding ways to sneak glances at this newcomer. He did not know her but at once determined that he must meet her. He felt guilty to think about Leah and was glad she did not know his thoughts at that moment, but he had never met a woman whose appearance alone had such a dramatic effect on him. It was like being struck by a bolt of lightning, but he enjoyed it, and he could not let that pass without further investigation.
William noted with some dismay that he had heard very little of the ceremony. John’s absence was even more of a concern. There had been some quiet talk among the brothers in attendance as to whether he would make an appearance or not. John had not spoken to Mart
ha since their falling out, and he had not returned to Dawning Court since then. His attendance, therefore, would require a great deal of humility on his part. On the other hand, this was a big event in the Dawning family, and to not be seen here would be a slight to Henry that no one would miss. John would not want that, either.
No one expected Edward would turn up, and in this they were not disappointed.
The belfry began to ring out the announcement that the wedding was complete, and Henry and Mary walked arm and arm out of the chapel, looking every inch the perfect couple. “You owe me five pounds,” Thomas muttered to Richard as the congregation stood in honor of the newlyweds.
“It’s not over yet,” Richard muttered back. “If he even materializes for the reception, then he has ‘attended’.”
“I don't think so,” Thomas scoffed. “The wedding is over. The couple that started out this day as individuals is now permanently joined in marital bliss.”
“The reception would not be taking place if not for this blessed union, and I dare say if Henry had refused the reception, this blessed union would not be taking place either. Ipso facto, the reception is part of the wedding,” Richard countered.
“You cannot change the rules of the wager in the middle,” Thomas said out of the corner of his mouth. From a distance, both men appeared to be smiling happily in reverent silence. “He is most probably just waking up in a drunken stupor and trying to determine where he is. So he may very well make it to the reception. Although probably in someone else’s clothes. That is the very reason I bet on the wedding.”
“Tell you what. If he shows at the reception, we’ll each pay each other half of the wager,” Richard suggested genially.
The Knights Dawning (The Crusades Series) Page 51