by Stas Borodin
The door banged open, and the room was filled with noise and the clatter of dishes. A real giant stood in the doorway; he even had to duck his head so as not to hit it on the ceiling. He was dressed in patched leather armour, worn breeches and riding boots.
“Korn, my dear friend!” the thug bellowed, “have you decided to fill my pockets once again? Oh, you brought a friend! I hope he has a tight purse!”
The giant collapsed on a bench in front of us. He awkwardly set aside one leg, and through the holes in his patched leather armour I saw blood-soaked bandages.
“It’s nothing,” he said, catching my eye. “Just a mosquito bite.” The giant laughed and clasped Korn’s palm with his both hands. “It was a glorious fight.” His face suddenly darkened. “Let the heavens take my old master!”
“My friend Art was Master Snomark’s squire,” Korn explained. “And this is my master, Marcus Grimm, son of Commander Marius.”
The warrior jumped up awkwardly, almost knocking over the bench on which he sat.
“It is an honour, Master Marcus.” He bowed, showing impeccable manners. “Please, forgive my rudeness!”
“Please, sit down, Art,” I said. I was confused by the fact that the adult warrior addressed me so respectfully.
“We’ve all heard about how you struck down the Zontrakian mage.” Art pressed his huge hand to his chest. “It’s a great honour for me to sit at the same table with you!”
“I knew your master,” I said. “He was a remarkable man. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“We were supposed to die together.” The squire wilted. “But, as you can see, I have a very tough hide, and the cursed nomads could not kill me with their damn arrows…”
“Thank Orvad!” I said. “Because I want you to serve me.”
The room fell silent. The giant stared at me without blinking.
“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” Korn grinned.
“Are you sure?” Art looked at me, then at his friend. “You already have a great squire!”
“The fact is,” Korn lowered his voice, “my master needs his own private army.”
The giant sprang up again and stood to attention. “I’m yours till death!” He winked. “Of course, as long as you can feed me!”
“That’s not a problem.” Korn said. “We even have a free stall in our stables!”
✽✽✽
We left The Infirmary accompanied by six squires. Korn had kept his promise, and now we had our own little army.
As it turned out, our new recruits possessed many other talents besides martial ones.
“We can fight as knights and work as draft horses,” said Mentor, Master Lotur’s squire. “There are no slackers or cowards among us.”
I was indescribably happy. There is nothing better than the company of reliable comrades.
As soon as we stepped outside, my bodyguards lined up in battle order. Three walked behind me, two were at my sides, and nimble Peti ran forward to scout. From the side we looked just like a company of jolly friends returning home after a night of partying.
“They operate very smoothly,” I whispered to Korn. “As if they do it every day.”
“That’s right,” the squire agreed. “They have a lot of experience, thanks to their former masters.”
The house we were looking for was in the artisans’ quarter. A high wall concealed a small green garden from the eyes of passers-by. We could only see the treetops and red-tiled roofs.
“It’s here,” Korn said. “See the fist on the sign?”
Indeed, above the sturdy door hung a forged sign with a picture of a fist.
“Is this is a fist fighters school?” I was surprised. “Are you sure this is the place we are looking for?”
“Master Kast prepares the finest pugilists in the whole city, there is no error,” the squire assured me. He raised his hand and our bodyguards suddenly dispersed in different directions, leaving us alone at the door. Korn pulled the ring and in the depths of the garden a bell rang. Immediately, a small window opened on the door.
“We have come to visit Master Kast, on a personal matter,” said Korn. “From Lady Era.”
The window shut, leaving us to admire each other and the copper plate with the inscription “Master Kast – trainer of champions.”
Soon the door opened and an elderly man with a broken nose and the shoulders of a wrestler invited us inside. “Come with me, gentlemen,” he said, carefully bolting the door.
In the vast courtyard, in the shade of the trees were wooden mannequins shaped like humans and various animals. The yard was swept clean and sprinkled with white sand. Muscular servants were lugging water from the well, filling the copper tubs that stood along the walls. Pretty girls laid out towels and washcloths.
“Soon the morning training will begin,” explained the porter, pointing to the mannequins. “Here our fighters train their fists.”
We ascended to the second floor up an elegant spiral staircase. A dark-skinned servant opened the door and bowed to us. We entered the spacious bright room filled with marble cups and statues of fighters. Master Kast came out to meet us, smiling amiably and holding out his hands.
“You must be Marcus, son of Lady Era!” he exclaimed happily. “Well, the time has come, and you choose to study the noble art of fist fighting. Believe me, we will soon turn you into a real man!”
He grabbed me by the arm and led me to an armchair.
“Sit down, please!” With a wide gesture, Master Kast pointed to the statues and cups. “I am sure that with time you will add quite a few trophies to our collection.”
“The trainer of champions” was quite tall, with a broken nose and the squashed ears of a wrestler, but he was too thin to be a champion himself.
“I was once a fighter.” He seemed to read my mind. “And now, I train fine young gentlemen – just like you.”
A servant entered the room carrying a tray of wine and fruit.
“Help yourself, please.” He pointed to the dishes. “It is very good for your health.”
“We are here on another matter,” Korn said, pointing to the servant.
Master Kast smiled and, with a gesture of his hand, ordered his servant to retire.
“I understand.” He leaned back in his chair. “Lady Era wants to hire a few strong bodyguards? It is very dangerous in Lieh lately. Especially since your honourable father left us…”
“The trainer of champions” was a strange man. It was hard to decide immediately whether I liked him or not. There was something repulsive about him, but at the same time he was inexplicably attractive.
“I’m afraid that our services will be very expensive.” Master Kast rubbed his nose. “In truth, I do not know if you can afford it …”
Instead of an answer, I reached forward and put the stone on the table.
“We don’t need your bodyguards,” I said. “I heard that you have been looking for such a stone. I have one, and I’m willing to sell it.”
Master Kast’s jaw dropped. He held out a trembling hand and touched the jewel with his fingertips. “Yes,” he sighed. “This is it.”
Biting his lip, he admired the flickering red sparks.
“Lady Era told you the truth.” He stroked the stone gently. “I have long dreamed about it but did not expect ever to even touch it!” His scarred lips trembled. “Do you know what fear is?” he asked suddenly. “What it’s like to wake up every morning in fear?”
“No.” I shook my head.
“I live with it constantly.” Master Kast covered the stone with his hand and closed his eyes. “All because of my wealth and my daughters.”
“Are you afraid for their lives?” Korn sounded surprised.
“No.” The coach shook his head. “I fear for my own life. My daughters were married a long time ago, but their husbands are a worthless lot. They’re waiting for my death to divide the inheritance. They are tired of waiting. Several times they’ve sent assassins, but here at my school, t
hey cannot get me.”
Master Kast clenched the stone in his fist. “Poisons are another matter entirely. They have been found in my food, water, and even clothing. I lost all my finest servants. Can you imagine? They’ve all been poisoned!”
Now I understood the reason behind his awful leanness.
“And now, you bring me the Night Eye.” Master Kast looked eagerly at a dish holding some treats. “Now I don’t have to risk my servants. Now I can sleep peacefully!” His eyes flashed. “How much for the gem?”
We had to bargain carefully. We didn’t know its real value and didn’t want to sell it cheaply.
“You know the price,” I said. “If you can’t afford it, we already have another buyer—”
“Another buyer?” Master Kast snorted. “Of course there is! But this time I will not let my greed get between me and the stone. Just wait a minute!”
He put the gem on the table and ran out of the room.
“Looks like he’s gone mad,” my squire whispered.
“Maybe not,” I said.
Master Kast returned with a powerfully-built servant carrying a heavy strongbox.
“There are five thousand gold pieces!” he blurted out. “I’ve heard that the king of the Amorites paid four thousand for the Night Eye, but their coin is much heavier than ours. I hope that Lady Era will not think that I wanted to deceive you by offering a mere four thousand.”
“Your reputation is solid as a rock,” I reassured him.
✽✽✽
Outside the fence of the school was a completely different world, bustling, restless with anxieties and hopes.
“At last our Master Kast can sleep peacefully,” I said.
“And even grow a belly!” Korn grinned.
He whistled softly, and our squires emerged silently from the alleyways. They took the heavy chest of gold and surrounded us.
We got home without incident. Melvin locked the door behind us and took a deep breath of relief.
“Master Marcus,” he turned to me, “I have noticed some suspicious activity in front of our house. Look, these vagabonds appeared immediately after you left the house. This made me very worried…”
“So, he already knows that we are back with reinforcements.” Korn was listening to our conversation. “I wonder what he’s up to?”
“Maybe he just wants to be sure that we don’t run away?”
“Or maybe he’s thinking up something nasty.” Melvin nodded. “This man is rotten to the bone! How many times did I warn Master Marius…”
Korn patted the old butler on the shoulder. “You have nothing to fear, my friend! Master Marcus hired the best bodyguards in the whole city.” The squire seemed quite pleased with himself.
Stealthily, I looked out the window and immediately noticed a suspicious group loitering in the shade of a neighbour’s house. “They have weapons concealed under their clothes,” I said.
The smile slid off the squire’s face. He studied the slackers and their clothing. “It looks like they have armour under their rags.” Now he looked really worried. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”
Having thanked the butler for his vigilance, I went into the house.
Mother was in the dining room. The squires were kneeling side by side in front of her.
“We are waiting for you,” she smiled. “Your knights want to take the oath. It seems that they cannot wait to wear the colours of our house.”
I stood beside her. “I’d like to introduce you to our soldiers,” I said.
The first in line was Art. His wounded leg was awkwardly set aside; it was very painful for him to kneel down, so I decided to finish the ceremony as quickly as possible.
Korn walked into the room carrying my grandfather’s shield.
“Art, the gallant squire of Master Snomark,” I said, pointing at the painted shield. “Swear to be faithful to me and my family!”
“I swear!” he said, putting his calloused palm on the old scarred wood. “And let Orvad punish me if I ever break the oath!”
The rest of squires took the oath one by one. Peti, Master Ertur’s squire, Amell, Master Lira’s, Lokman, Master Pentora’s, Es, Master Vengra’s, and Mentor, the squire of Master Lotur.
Mother wiped the tears from her eyes and sank into a chair. “I am so happy to see that our house is full of friends once again.” She put her handkerchief to her eyes. “And to know that they are friends of my son.”
The embarrassed squires lined up along the wall looking admiringly at my mother. I knew that she was very beautiful, but I saw for the first time what kind of power this beauty had over other men.
“Follow me,” ordered Korn and led the new recruits to the armoury.
I waited until they disappeared behind the door, and turned to my mother. “Well, what do you think?” I asked.
“They are worthy men,” she nodded. “We are very fortunate that they have agreed to serve us. Your father would be proud of such a choice.”
Chapter 3
In the armoury our squires were like little kids in a candy shop. Spellbound, they looked at our family’s treasures – antique arms and armour, shields with coats of arms, and torn enemy flags.
“Here is the equipment you can use.” Korn pointed to the shelves.
I looked at them and remembered how recently I’d watched my brother Eran and his squire preparing to march. How their eyes glistened, how their strong hands juggled with swords, checking their balance, how their nimble fingers tightened the straps on chain mail.
Memory is a strange thing; sometimes the slightest hint is enough to remember the past in great detail. To remember the sounds, the smells, the mood. Now memories washed over me like a wave, my eyes stung and my heart began to beat faster.
“Here is a coat of mail that will fit me!” Art roared happily, lifting a heavy hauberk from the hooks. “A little too narrow at the waist, but that’s nothing. I wish I knew who had worn such a treasure!”
“My brother,” I said. “Use it well!”
Art pressed the hauberk to his chest and bowed gratefully. Our warriors tried on countless greaves and gauntlets; they spun in front of a mirror in different helmets and cloaks, exchanging occasional caustic comments.
Choosing a suitable weapon for each proved to be much harder than the armour.
“They took all our weapons,” complained Mentor. “To lose my sword is like losing an arm for me!”
“You really think so?” Korn chuckled, lifting his stump.
“I did not mean to offend you, buddy.” Mentor looked embarrassed. “You know, I just wanted to say that the weapon is the soul of a warrior…”
The warriors tried all the swords, all the axes and spears that we had, and in the end everyone found a weapon to his liking.
Korn lined up our host in front of me for the final inspection. “You look good.” He nodded approvingly. “Finally you look like real squires!”
The warriors smiled, playing with their new weapons. The leather on them creaked and chain mail tinkled.
“Now we need squires for ourselves,” Peti chuckled, “to haul all this iron!”
“You can always ask the butler, he can pull the straps for you!” Es laughed.
“Don’t mess with our Melvin,” Korn lowered his voice. “He is a stern old man; he could easily tighten the straps around your throat!”
The squires laughed again.
Having examined his subordinates, Korn immediately appointed the sentries. Art and Amell went to the gate, and the other squires, laughing and jingling in their chain mail, went to the barracks, where a hot meal was waiting for them.
“Don’t forget to feed the watchmen!” I said.
Korn rolled his eyes and mockingly tapped his forehead. It was nice to see my squire in good spirits.
I went up to the living quarters and found my mother busy counting money. Stacks of coins were standing on the table and she was making notes on a piece of parchment and filling small linen bags with gold pieces.
“Half of the gold we will use to pay off our debts.” She showed me a high stack of receipts. “But even then we will have a decent amount left.”
“I didn’t know…” It just stunned me.
“Your father often paid for supplies and uniforms from his own pocket,” Mother sighed. “The funds he received from the Royal Treasury were never sufficient. You know how he was… To fight the bureaucrats was beneath his dignity…”
She deftly tied the purse strap and attached the receipt to it. “There is still a lot of work to do,” she said. “I don’t want to forget anyone. These last few days creditors have flocked like vultures to our house! You met just one of them.”
“Thank Orvad!” I said. “Otherwise, my hands would be stained with someone’s blood.”
“The others are quite harmless.” My mother showed me another receipt. “They have not yet realized that with Marius’s death our status in society is greatly decreased. Only Spekul Borkah immediately worked out how to exploit this situation.”
“Borkah – sounds Zontrakian to me.” I winced.
“Unfortunately, I know nothing about him.” Mother shrugged. “Perhaps his ancestors were Zontrakians. Let them all burn in the fire of Annuvir!”
✽✽✽
Soon it became dark. Gas lamps were lit everywhere and people began to go out onto the balconies and rooftops to enjoy the cool of the evening.
I pulled my chair to the niche in which the urn with my father’s ashes stood. He had been cremated during my absence, so we had not been able to say farewell properly. The urn was quite small, with elegant handles and a silver-plated lid. Unbidden tears welled up in my eyes. How could such a big man fit in such a small vessel? Do all the heroes who seemed to us titans in life ultimately end up as a pitiful handful of dust?
My father always said: “The spirit is stronger than the flesh.” Now, having been in real combat, seeing the triumph of the spirit over the flesh with my own eyes, I realized what he meant. However, the spirit could not exist without the flesh … Where is your spirit, Father? Why did you leave us? Why don’t you overcome death?