"Hello!" he said. "I'm Fintan! It means “White Bull” so just call me Fin eh? How are you getting on? All ready for all this great Klaideem stuff eh? Many adventures on the way here I'll bet. Me, I don't really go in for all that excitement and danger stuff. I mostly got here on the back of carts, hitched a lift. Much safer, and comfier, and easier on the old feet. Mind you, there was one milk maid gave me a lift, wouldn't have minded a few adventures with her! She wasn't having any of it though. Said I was too young! Can you believe it?"
Luan wasn't sure which part of this to respond too, each of his answers to Fin's questions had been swiftly overtaken by the next, so he used the space while Fin paused for breath to say ‘hello’.
Luan soon found that Fin's initial burst of conversation was nothing unusual. He talked a lot about all sorts of things. This could have been very annoying after a while except that Fin didn't really expect much of his listeners. So Luan lay on his bed, half listening while Fin chattered on, and allowed himself to drift on a sea of words. He wondered what Bridie was doing and whether Mack was back to his old self. Occasionally though, something that Fin said would jerk Luan out of his reverie.
"Sorry? Pardon?"
Fin looked at him. "Were you drifting off then?" he asked with mock severity. "I said that I bet you were born for all this. Second son and all that. Bet your uncle was a Klaideem. Me, I'm here cos of Da. Regular soldier he was..."
It turned out that Fin's father had been a soldier in the Clanbrae, the foot soldiers who made up the bulk of the Kingdom's army. The Clanbrae tended to be tenant farmers or farm labourers. Attracted by the promise of pay that was at least regular if not substantial, they would sign up for a fixed period of ten years. They would receive weapons, usually spear, axe and shield, and would train regularly making the trip to the nearest muster for one week in every six. The rest of the time they would work their farms and raise their families. In time of war the messengers would ride to summon the Clanbrae to muster and the men would march, gradually joining with other muster groups to make up their cadre. Each cadre, and there were twenty, would have about five hundred men as well as a group of about two hundred Klaideem, mounted and highly trained. The Kingdom could also call on the services of the tribes, who were oath bound to send troops. In theory that meant that the Kingdom could field an army of fourteen thousand men or more, although in practice it would often be much less.
Fin's father had been one of the few that signed up for a second term. These more experienced soldiers received slightly more pay and were responsible for training and discipline in their muster. Very rarely Clanbrae who had distinguished themselves in battle were rewarded by giving them the ownership of their farms, effectively raising them in society. Their eldest son would inherit the land and their second would become one of the Klaideem. Fin didn't seem very happy about it.
"...so he does something 'brave' or as I would say, stupid, and here I am. He gets to stay at home playing lord of the land, my Ma thinks she's the queen or something, and I have to trek all the way here to learn how to charge about on a big horse, waving swords about and shouting orders. Not my idea of fun, I can tell you..."
AT DAWN OF THE SECOND day after Luan arrived, a horn sounded deep and long, the initiation was finally about to start. The boys woke to find that a set of clothes had been placed at the foot of each bed: grey woollen leggings, a grey tunic and black ankle length boots. There was also a cloak, the instantly recognisable white of the Klaideem. Around the huge tent older boys were busy, instructing and encouraging, waking some of the novices that still slept and showing others how to attach the cloak. They were dressed in the same way except their cloaks were edged in blue and they wore insignia on their chest and hip: Luan saw birds, animals and weapons.
In the very centre of the guild, where the roads met, stood an imposing building, high and circular, its pinnacle surmounted by a great statue of a warrior holding his sword up to the sky. This was the Great Hall of The Klaideem, and it was to here that the novices made their way, marshalled by the older boys. As they got closer their chatter diminished until by the time they mounted the wide steps that led into the great arched entrance they were silent. For Luan, entering the Great Hall was like walking into a dream. The sense of age was palpable as the line of boys slowly made its way inside and sat on the low benches that arced round the low stage that was the focal point of the room. Motes of dust danced slowly in the beams of light that streamed through the tall, high windows. As the boys knelt to take again their vow to follow the path of the sword, and then stood for the Guild Father, Luan felt almost as though he had slipped between the worlds once again.
Two – A Scream in the Night
Swordsmanship starts with a strong position. This is why you must always start with the Warrior's Stance: left foot pushed forward, right foot back and turned out. The pommel of the sword about level with your centre and with the tip of the sword pointed at the throat of your foe.
THE PRACTICE SWORD felt heavy in Luan’s hands. Unconsciously he adopted the position that Mack had taught him, one foot in front of the other, elbows in towards his hips. All along the wall of the training hall, the boys in his Cadre were trying out their swords. Some stood self-consciously, the sword an unfamiliar weight, others leaned nonchalantly and talked. Several pairs were taking swipes at each other while Drustan was taking ever closer swings at a small boy he had backed up against the wall.
"You know he's going to hurt that lad soon enough." Fin leant against the wall, the wooden sword in his left hand resting on his shoulder.
"Should we do something?" Following Fin's gaze, Luan saw the smaller boy flinch as Drustan rapped the practice sword on the wall just a few inches from his victim's head.
"We now is it?" retorted Fin. "I'm in no hurry to get on the wrong side of that big brute."
"He doesn't know when to stop."
Gradually the other boys fell silent as they became aware of the nasty little drama being played out amongst them. Drustan, smiling, swung the sword again, a horizontal pass that caught the boy's nose. Drustan’s laugh covered the cry of pain as the smaller boy clutched his hands to his face and the blood ran down his lip.
"We can't just stand by and watch." Luan started walking. Fin pulled a face.
"Playing heroes already," he muttered but he followed Luan down the length of the training hall.
Like Fin, Luan was in the Fifth Cadre, the same as his uncle. Where possible boys were placed according to family ties and in some cases these went back generation after generation. The group would live together, train together and eventually fight alongside each other, but like any group of boys the fighting often started amongst themselves.
"Leave him alone!" Luan didn't have to say it very loud. Every boy in the room had already fallen silent. Drustan turned around slowly, his eyes widening as his glance took in Luan with Fin standing just behind him. Then he grinned like a tiger that has swapped a rabbit for an antelope.
"I was just playing with him, wasn't I lads?" Every bully has his followers, boys who decide it is better than being a victim, Drustan had two and as he turned to face Luan they stepped forward. To his left was a thin, lanky boy named Easoch, his spiky ginger hair matched by a few stay hairs that sprouted beneath his long pointed nose. His small eyes skulked under his eyebrows like mice under a tuft of grass. On the other side of Drustan stood Tavdi, slightly shorter than the other two, his pale creamy skin and white blonde hair were striking by comparison. His flat grey stare was devoid of emotion. Fin had already nicknamed the pair: the Weasel and the Ghost. Emboldened, Drustan took a step nearer to Luan.
"What do you care anyway? I wasn't going to hurt him!"
"I suppose all the red stuff is decoration then?" The glint in Fin's eyes belied his bantering tone.
Drustan threw a scornful glance in Fin's direction.
"You keep out of this, farmer boy!"
"Farmer boy now is it? Well, I'd rather be a farmer than a big, dumb ox!"
It took Drustan a moment to realise he had been insulted, then suddenly he flushed deep red and with an almost feral growl he swept the wooden sword above his head and launched a vicious overhead blow at Fin.
Crack! Even as Fin began to duck and turn to avoid the blow, Drustan’s sword stopped dead, blocked by another wooden blade.
"Stop!" It was the smaller boy who spoke, face smeared with blood, his extended right arm shaking but holding firm as he kept Drustan’s blow in check. "We should not be fighting each other."
"I entirely agree." There was something about the voice that sent a chill down the spine. The boys turned as one, caught in the disdainful glare of the sword master.
"In fact," he continued "I would say that none of you should be fighting anyone! No skill, no composure, and no chance of living longer than about twenty seconds!"
The speaker was tall and gaunt, grey hair pulled back in pony tail, his nose pinched and narrow. Unlike the other tutors there was no warmth in his eyes, instead the flat stare seemed to measure their worth and be disappointed. His nickname was Sword, sharp and deadly, but no one called him anything but 'Sir'
LUAN WOULD REMEMBER that first drill as the hardest ever. Sword pushed them hard, demonstrating once then leading the cadre through each move again and again until they got it right. Then onto the next position, the next step, each one a new name and a new set of movements to learn and struggle to remember. Roof Guard to Hanging Point to Crooked Strike and back to Warrior's Stance. A constant flow of commands corrected their posture, their movement: 'Feet! Come on, Step, Step!...Eyes forward!...Keep that blade steady!...look UP boy!...' On and on until the air burned in Luan’s lungs and it felt like his whole body ached. At no time did they cross swords with each other, just a long line executing the movements. Expressing disgust, 'a ragged band of charlatans' was how their tutor described them, but by the end of the hour Luan, looking down the line, saw the cadre move as one, and felt a surge of pride.
At the end of the session, putting away the practice swords, Luan became aware of someone standing behind him.
"I didn't need any help." It was the boy that Drustan had been toying with. Luan turned, surprised by the tone.
"I was just sticking up for you." Luan felt oddly defensive. The boy regarded him with a steady gaze. Luan tried again.
"You don't have to let him bully you."
"I wasn't."
"But you let him hit you!"
"My decision!"
The boy was staring defiantly at him now and Luan began to see that his well-meaning intervention had perhaps just made things worse.
"I'm sorry," he said simply. For a few seconds the boy continued to stare but then a grin broke across his face.
"I'm Brenn," he said.
"Luan."
"Come on." Brenn bent down and picked up one of the wooden blades. "Let's get these put away"
They finished clearing up and then set off towards the refectory. As they turned the corner of the practice building something moved at the edge of Luan’s vision. Quickly turning his head he caught a glimpse of an animal.
"Did you see that?"
"What?" Brenn turned and peered in the same direction "Can't see anything! What was it?"
Luan scratched his head. "I thought it looked like a black dog."
Brenn shrugged. "Well I'm sure there are a few around, hardly a mystery is it? Come on, I'm hungry."
He set off. Luan had a last look round but seeing nothing, he followed.
LUAN HAD DECIDED THAT fourteen minutes was the maximum time for which he could stand still. Unfortunately guard duty lasted four hours. According to the rules novices were supposed to 'accompany' one of the more experienced members of the guild, by time honoured tradition that meant that the guard got to spend the majority of the shift in the guardhouse by the fire, while the boy stood watch and shivered. Luan knew this and understood that in time it would all work out, he would get his turn by the fire while some poor novice shivered in his place. It didn't help.
"Come on Luan," he said to himself, "Stand tall!"
He pulled himself to attention, spear straight up, shield held smartly on his left arm, head held high. It began to rain. The drops that pinged off his helmet sounded like grains of wheat dropping into a bowl. After another ten minutes Luan’s self-motivation failed and he slumped under the coving of the tower. It provided little protection. For a while he held his cloak over his head, and then, when his cloak was saturated, his shield.
Luan stared out into the night. The landscape had solidified into a dark uneven mass, the sky only distinguishable by a lightening of the gloom where the moon tried in vain to break through the clouds. His section of the wall faced the countryside where little happened at the best of times. Rumour among the boys, reported gleefully by Fin, was that if you pulled watch on the town side then sometimes girls would come and try to tempt you away from your duty by 'showing themselves'. Luan wasn't really sure what he thought about that. The only girl he knew was Bridie, and he didn't really think of her as a girl. At least, he didn't think of her as being pretty or anything like that. Although when he thought about it she was quite nice really. Luan decided that this was a confusing line of thought and so went back to staring into the night. Much simpler!
Away down the wall he could see the light of the next guard tower where he knew Fin was on duty. The guards could patrol along the wall to the midpoint between themselves and the next tower and when Luan and Fin had found out they had been posted to adjacent guard towers they had arranged to meet up every hour. Not sure how long he had been on duty, Luan decided to count to one thousand before setting off along the wall. He was just passing two hundred and eighty seven for the third time when he gave up and decided to set off, he could always walk slowly.
The half way point was marked by a slight widening in the walkway where a semi-circular platform jutted out from the line of the wall. Luan stepped up onto the platform and looked first back to the tower he had come from and then along the wall towards the next guard post but apart from the flickering torches he could see very little. Below him the wall disappeared into the shadow of the deep moat that surrounded the castle and Luan felt like the darkness was condensing his whole world into a small sphere around him. Used to living in the country, Luan had grown out of being afraid of the dark, but up there on the wall he found it hard to shake the sense of unease that grew with every minute. He hoped that Fin would be quick. The rain was growing more fitful now, blown by sudden gusts of wind to hit Luan in a sudden spatter like someone had thrown a pitcher of water at him. Luan suddenly became aware that something had broken through the background noise, distinguishable only by its difference. He peered along with wall. Was it Fin? The noise came again, a sharp crack followed by solid thump. At the same time the light from the guardhouse blinked off and then back on again. The hairs rose on the back of Luan’s neck as the creeping tide of fear grew within him. Again, crack, thump. The light seemed to leer as it winked at him. Whatever it was it was getting closer. Luan desperately levelled his spear and tried to keep the point from shaking. His mouth was so dry that the first challenge died in his throat. He swallowed and tried again.
"Halt! Friend or foe?"
The crack came again and something hurtled towards him out of the rain. Luan jumped back and his fear turned to astonished relief as Fin thumped down in front of him.
"Friend!" he said. "Although that could change," he added with a pointed look at the spear which Luan still levelled.
"You idiot!" Luan’s fear had turned quickly to fury. "What were you doing?"
"Spear jumping."
"What?"
"Spear jumping," said Fin. "Look!" He ran a few steps and then planted the butt of the spear on the flagstones and leapt while holding the other end. He arced through the air before landing with a thump about twelve feet along the walkway.
Luan stared in perplexed frustration. "Why?"
Fin smiled. "I was bored!"
"What?"
"Don't tell me that you weren't."
Luan had to admit the truth of that and his anger subsided. It had been mainly caused by fear which seemed ridiculous now that Fin was there. With the relief came a kind of childish joy that seemed entirely out of place. Luan tried spear jumping and fell with a bang that left him rolling round clutching his knee while Fin collapsed in laughter. They then had a short argument about which was the proper way to hold a spear on guard duty before pretending they were officers and taking it in turns to salute each other.
"Well, I suppose we better get back," said Fin
"Yes, I suppose," replied Luan. "We don't want to get in trouble on our first watch."
"You're right there," Fin smiled, "plenty of time for that!" And he turned and started walking back down the wall.
"See you in a bit," Luan called after his friend and then turned to head back himself. Suddenly the night was pierced by a scream of terror, a scream that rose in a cadence of fear before ending abruptly.
Three – A Shadow on the Wall
Passing Step. Footwork is an essential part of swordsmanship and the Passing Step is fundamental to good footwork. A Passing Step is one in which the feet change their relationship to one another - Back foot becomes front, and Front foot becomes back.
FOR A MOMENT LUAN WAS frozen to the spot, then, almost without volition he began running towards the source of the sound. At that moment the clouds parted, bathing the wall with moonlight and Luan distinctly saw a figure on the wall some distance beyond the tower. Then the clouds rolled back and all was dark again. A moment later Luan reached the guardroom and threw open the door.
"Come on!" he shouted, "Quick!"
The Guild of Warriors Page 2