Squire Hayseed

by S E Zbasnik

  Digging a hand into her boot, she excised out a knife. Her writing skills were still subpar, but she didn’t need much for what she had to do. Bending over, with one hand splattered to the side of the beam, she added her own mark to this world.

  “Hayley Was Is Here.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “En garde, you rascally rapscallion!” Hayley cried, the tip of her sword waving through the sweltering air. Half of her back was drenched in sweat courtesy of the long summer days and the never-ending march to wherever. She should probably be conserving her energy, but there was a challenge made and knights always answered a challenge. Lr so she insisted loudly to the people walking past with an eyebrow raised. It was fine. They weren’t gonna get skewered on accident, probably.

  The end of a wooden stick slapped into Hayley’s blade, tossing it aside, but her opponent shouted, “I have no idea what you called me.”

  “It was a…it doesn’t matter.” Hayley shook it off. “Come at me.” She waved her hand vigorously and began to spread her stance wider. A stupid move, liable to encourage accomplished opponents to just whack her knee, but she didn’t care.

  Lifting her stick back high, Ania gave a great battle cry and rushed forward. Lunging forward with her arm, Hayley twisted to the side to avoid the first not-fatal stab, then banged into the stick. All the while she kept stepping backwards, Ania closing in tighter as the dust of the road rose up to coat them. Too many weeks without rain meant every step of this journey jarred bones, but the girls didn’t care.

  “I shall have this!” Ania kept on, whacking fast with her stick.

  “You sure about that?” Hayley tried to raise an eyebrow but it wouldn’t go. She’d been at it for nearly a week, thinking it’d make her look intimidating. But short of yanking a brow up with her finger, the damn thing only came up with its sister making her look more surprised than menacing.

  Ania raised her wrathful stick back, ready to bang into something on Hayley, but it was time for her to pull out the offensive moves. Hurling her sword to the dust, Hayley lashed out with both her raw hands and snatched onto the oncoming pole. It smacked hard against her flesh, the slap bounding through the caravan train, but Hayley kept a tight grip and Ania’s eyes widened more.

  The girl tried to shake her off, giving it her all, but Hayley wrenched the stick free of Ania’s grip and knocked the end right into her chest. Ania scattered back at the move, her traveling skirt flying in the barely-there breeze. When her heels bounded against someone’s toes, she spun around to find a silent man carrying a massive trunk bound to a cart glaring at her. “Sorry,” she pleaded, her face turning pink, “sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

  “Ha!” Hayley crowed, “I win!”

  “Squire,” the lead voice of their little trip called from ahead. Shit. Bending down, Hayley hefted up her dropped sword. Just before taking off, she threw the stick back at Ania who was trying to act as if the thing had nothing to do with her. With a little salute, Hayley jogged past a few of the slower members of the caravan whom she thought might hide her from view. But of course not; he was on the horse after all.

  “Yes, Ser?” Hayley mumbled, coming to a speedy walk beside the ambling Gringolet.

  Gavin sat high in the saddle, his head not tipping for a moment even after the week-long excursion out into the wilds — or wherever they were all headed. Near Ostmount, but not close enough to be the city. Somewhere special that required lots of people all getting together for the long walk in order to scare away bandits. Hayley got that part, though why she had to keep his armor shiny before each sunrise was beyond her. Damn thing was clogged with dust from the road. And why’d he needed to wear it anyway? Bloody stupid all around.

  “What was that?” Gavin asked from on high. He shifted in the saddle, swaying to match the slow march of Gringolet.

  “We was, were, getting in a bit of practice is all, Ser,” Hayley mumbled to herself. She fiddled with the scabbard that hadn’t left her side in ten weeks. Morning, noon, night. She had to figure out how to take a piss with that thing on without jabbing it into the ground. Little tricky, and not something Gavin could offer advise for either.

  Her knight spun in his saddle, eyeing up Ania who was now trying to pretend she didn’t even know this mad squire challenging poor servant girls to duels. Hayley wasn’t supposed to be fighting anymore. Least not enough to risk an injury. They’d do exercises in the yard, mostly whipping things back and forth to keep fresh, but the sparring fell away a week ago.

  But it’d been so boring on this trip. Rise at dawn, eat a meal, walk until your toes wanted to pop off, put up a tent, go to sleep, do it all again. She couldn’t help herself; she was getting restless.

  Waiting for the oncoming chastisement that’d probably end in her having to polish everything he owned, Hayley dipped her head down to watch Gringolet’s shiny hooves clomp through the dirt. “You dropped your sword,” Gavin said. When Hayley whipped up to look at him she swore she caught a smirk. “Never give up your weapon unless you have no choice.”

  “I…” Nah, she was imagining it. Gavin’s face reset to impassioned staring, barely swiping over those he was supposedly protecting on the trip. “I just thought it’d, try something new, throw her off. It worked, didn’t it?”

  “Tricks can be handy in a tough spot, but skill is where you will win the day.” He was talking like a damn riddle spinner again. Half of the things out of his mouth she expected to find stitched onto pillows that he scattered over his bed. Given how boring her knight was, the idea of him spending long winter nights embroidering by the fire wasn’t beyond the realm.

  “Got it,” Hayley mumbled, finally feeling the heat burning along her back and shoulders. She moved to wipe the sweat away, and — with as much chivalry as she could manage — shook it off into the bush by the side. A few of the fellow small-time farmers and whatnot were staring at her.

  “It was a clever move, though,” Gavin said with a laugh causing Hayley’s entire body to freeze. The people moved on, dodging around the squire stuck in her tracks.

  But he said…he didn’t want her to… Cheeky bastard.

  “Hayley,” he called again, his head somehow raising even higher. How didn’t it pop clean off the neck sometimes? “You’ll want to see this.”

  Urging the last of her strength into her legs, Hayley once again jogged closer. It involved her having to circumvent a hill, her scrawny form dodging past the crates and barrels on carts rolling past. For a time all she could see ahead was a big white ass, Gringolet’s black tail shifting with the winds.

  But as she drew closer, the horizon seemed to open wide and it felt as if a million voices struck her at once. Tents of every color of the rainbow stretched clear across the landscape. She tried to look for the edge, but even standing on her tiptoes and shielding her eyes all Hayley could make out was a blurry line of colors. Tiny dots shifted back and forth between the tents, the ants jabbering to each other and wafting the most delectable smells into the air.

  “Squire Hayley,” Gavin said, “welcome to the Grand Tourney.”

  It took them little time to get down to the start of the circle of tents. Hayley clung tight to Gavin’s side, almost afraid that she might get swept away in the sea of humanity thriving around them. Ostmount was no slouch when it came to a city. It had a sewer and aquifer, for starters. But the couple of thousand there had nothing on the mass of people that set up camp in whatever place this was.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “Pelmont’s field, outside of the land to the Duke of…” Gavin’s explanation faded as he rattled off war stats, and nobility bastards, and other politic things. Hayley’s eyes were widening faster as their little parade traveled down a quick-made road.

  Tents filled not with knights and squires but people dressed in vibrant robes drifted past. Some of the people were hanging up fabrics over tall poles. Others set out cookware and heavy iron, not to prepare a meal, but placed onto logs as if on displa
y. When Hayley glanced to the other side, she caught a mass of glittering jewels and baubles, rubies, sapphires, emeralds of all hues catching the sunlight.

  Her jaw must have squeaked at the decadence on display because Gavin followed and he sighed. “I take it you didn’t know about the market.”

  “Market?” She whipped her head back and forth as if shaking away a bee. Ostmount had a market. It was five booths, usually with a rotating cast of grumbling farmers and smiths who wanted people in and out as fast as possible. These shopkeeps were waving people to them, bright smiles on their faces as they invited all to take a gander and browse.

  “The Tourney brings many people from all across the country. People who might never see these wares any other time in their life. Coin is traded freely, sometimes too freely.” He whispered that last bit to himself, but Hayley followed his eyes towards the first gambling tent.

  The canvas walls were a striped green and yellow, drawing the eye right to it. A fat man wearing a doublet with what looked like gold trim was placing a sign outside. Hayley had to squint and twist her head to read the going rates for dice games. He even offered cards. She’d only heard of those games whispered around the knight tables.

  There were other vice tents as well. Wine ran freely across the street, vintners arguing over who had the best crops and bottling skills as they passed. Close to them were ladies and gentlemen wearing such skimpy clothing Hayley could easily guess at the color of their nipples. She tried to divert her eyes anywhere, but at the sight of Gavin high on his horse two women ran towards him. They nearly pinned Hayley right into Gringolet’s flank, a fact neither of them were wild about.

  After a heavy sigh and Gavin’s ‘no thank you,’ he urged the horse onward. They said goodbye to the vice and began to draw closer to the virtues. Three monks stood beside a basin offering to wash the feet of holy travelers or bless any who brought their weapons to them.

  “We’re near the arena proper, now,” Gavin said. He pointed a finger ahead, but all Hayley could make out was a wooden wall. “Don’t worry, you’ll see it soon enough.”

  Clicking Gringolet on, Gavin turned to the right, trailing a new road that seemed to circle around the arena. This was where the smiths came, the heat amplifying by two hundred percent as they all stripped to the waist while working the bellows. Hayley felt like she wanted to evaporate to dust just from standing near, but the smiths all wore smiles while forming new weapons or repairing old. This was probably their biggest selling day.

  When the smiths' heat faded, Hayley stopped wafting her tight livery and took in a deep breath…only to have her nose fill with the scent of horse shit. Of course, the stables. Where there were knights, there were places to bed down horses. Gavin led Hayley and a handful of others who remained near towards the knight and squire tent areas. In walking through, she caught a few familiar eyes. Some even gave her a knowing nod or a wave surprising the hell out of her.

  Once the tent poles and canvas were unloaded along with the armor stockpiles, the weapons, and everything else Hayley had to help pack, Gavin gave her the reins to Gringolet. She had to bed him down. Before letting the wretched squire take hold, Gringolet nosed into his master’s back. Gavin dropped the poles he’d picked up prior to the horse attack and turned. With a great smile on his face, he patted up and down the nose, whispering something secret to his horse.

  Assuming she finally had her leave, Hayley tugged the horse’s bridle towards the stables. “I know you hate me, but we’re stuck together okay. Just…don’t stomp on me and I won’t scream. That’s got to be good enough?”

  Horses were constantly coming and going, some bearing riders, but just as many being led towards their stalls. In approaching the little desk holding what she assumed was the stable master, Hayley spotted Tish a few spaces ahead.

  “Hey!” Hayley waved madly, jerking Gringolet’s bridle around. Crud. The horse gave her a mile-long stare but didn’t yank its head free and run back to Gavin. Progress.

  After getting a rosette from the man in charge, Tish turned around and waved back to Hayley. The girl was limping still, which drew Hayley’s eyes right to her leg damaged in the fight, then back to her face to try and hide it all. “This is Ser Gavin’s horse, Gringolet,” Tish said to the man, gesturing for Hayley to cut the line. “Where’d you put him?”

  As that was sorted out surprisingly fast, Tish guided her knight’s horse to the stall while Hayley trailed behind with Gringolet doing his dignified stomp. “Where are you camped at?” Tish asked.

  “Uh, that way,” Hayley pointed. “Gavin’s outside and he kinda stands out.”

  Tish chuckled as she guided her horse deep into the stall. It took her almost no time to yank free the saddle and bridle bits. Hayley, on the other hand, stumbled through the routine. She’d only done it a couple times so far, usually under supervision. While Tish brushed down her knight’s bay, Hayley fumbled to unhook the belt under the saddle.

  “He is certainly noticeable,” Tish was probably talking about Gavin, though Gringolet sure as shit stood out too. “How’s he holding up?”

  “Who, Gavin? Fine. Generally fine.” There’d been a few days when he caught some sniveling cold and was a right bear to deal with, but otherwise nothing Hayley could remember.

  “No noticeable limps, muscle pulls, strains, that sort of thing?”

  “Why are you asking?” She stumbled in the routine, laying the saddle flat and reaching for some straw to rub down Gringolet. Damn horse barely sweats just like its master. How was she the one to wind up with a swamp ass out of them all?

  “Oh,” Tish shrugged, “no reason. After the ceremony tonight, you’ve got to come to the squire table.”

  “Squire table?” Hayley asked instead of “Ceremony, what ceremony?” She knew that’d mark her as an idiot in an instant for not knowing of this mythical ceremony.

  “Just something we get up to after every bout. Helps to soothe any ruffled feathers if a match didn’t go so well. Anyway, I need to get back quick. I fear my knight will have eaten the tent if I’m not there.” Tish dashed out, closing the stall behind. “Nice seeing you again, Hayley.”

  “You too,” Hayley waved, a song picking up under her breath. She managed to draw the brush down Gringolet’s shoulders and the flank. Gavin was the one who’d wash him. He seemed to prefer to be the one to do it which suited her just fine.

  “Be good,” she said to the horse who snorted at her for such an insinuation. “I’m certain someone will be by soon with food.” Hayley glanced up and down the teeming stable, trying to catch the eye of anyone in charge, when a flash of red and an even brighter flash of forehead caught her eye.

  She tried to look away, to turn anywhere, but the head stood up and the grey eyes caught her. Trying to put on a laugh, Hayley shouted before he could.

  “Finn?”

  “Ah!” He looked shocked to find her standing there. As if she shouldn’t have come. As if she wasn’t supposed to be here at all. Finn swiped a hand over his head, causing a mass of hay to stick in the red scratching post he called hair. “Hayseed,” he chuckled while leaning upon the stall door.

  “Ain’t seen you in over a month,” Hayley said, a genuine smile rising on her cheeks. She eased out of Gringolet’s stall towards Finn, expecting him to halve the distance but he seemed rooted in the spot.

  He sniffed, his eyes darting to the ground. “Surprised you even noticed. I mean, I, uh, tourney’s a big horse selling time. Traveled with my parents to round up the best of the lot so they could get ‘em sold off to drunk knights and drunker merchants with overflowing purses.”

  She smiled wider, laughing at the thought. In her mind, she thought this was just a place for all the knights to stand around and whack each other for a while. But the pomp, the unending sea of tents, the merchants peddling every kind of ware imaginable — this was a big deal. Bigger than anything Hayley’d ever been a part of.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she gulped out, daring to step
an inch closer. She really hadn’t seen much of him in the past two and a half months, much of anyone save Gavin. It got boring and quiet…too quiet at times.

  Finn leaned towards her, his palm flattening against a post as Hayley stopped beside it. “Oh?” he asked, his voice dropping lower. For a beat, those stormy eyes darted down her tight livery before returning up to her giddy smile.

  “Should be lots of free time for us to get up to some mischief,” Hayley said with a shrug, letting her body lean a little tighter. This near and she could almost feel the warmth of his cheek or smell the sweet honey breath.

  Finn rolled a tongue around his lips, his voice oozing, “That sounds…”

  “I got Pancake all bridled up, but…” A girl’s voice bounced around the busy barn, causing Finn to turn white as a ghost. As Hayley slid to the side, she watched a pair of giant blue eyes ping from the shrinking boy to the confused girl.

  Hair darker than midnight, the girl crossed her arms over her chest amplifying the more pronounced cleavage below a barely knotted on doublet. For a moment, both stared across the vast void of the stable, only the swish of horsetails and clomp of hooves breaking the stalemate. The girl, whoever she was, suddenly smiled brightly and sprung forward.

  Her arm wrapped around Finn’s, easily dragging him right to her. His elbow pressed into the side of her breast, causing Hayley to suck in a wounded breath. “Finny,” she giggled in a high pitched voice, “what are you doing? We’ve got to get Pancake and Buttercup ready for the show.”

  “Uh.” Finn’s eyes widened with every breath, sweat dripping from his massive forehead. “Yeah, I…right, we do in fact have to do that thing. I was just finishing up here. Ya know how it goes. Um…” With little fanfare, Finn went and plopped his weasely arm right over the girl’s shoulders. She happily snuggled under it, beaming mostly one on one at the boy her same height.

  What was he doing? Why was he…was she a sister? An old friend? A long lost cousin that walked in through the door an hour earlier?