Krispos' frown deepened. He'd known for a week that the hazing he'd been sweating out would turn physical sooner or later. He'd thought he was ready—but two against one wasn't how he'd wanted it to happen. He held up a hand. 'Wait!' he said in a high, alarmed voice. 'I'll clean 'em. Give me the shovel.'
Barses held it out. His face showed an interesting mix of amusement, triumph, and contempt. 'You'd best do a good job, too, farm boy, or we'll make you lick up whatever you—'
Krispos snatched the shovel from his hands, whirled, and rammed the handle into the pit of Meletios' stomach. The groom closed up on himself like a bellows, gasping uselessly for air.
Krispos threw the shovel aside. 'Come on!' he snarled at Barses. 'Or aren't you as good with your hands as you are with your mouth?'
'You'll see, farm boy!' Barses sprang at him. He was strong and fearless and knew something of what he was doing, but he'd never been through anything like the course in nasty fighting Krispos had taken from Idalkos. In less than two minutes he was down in the straw beside Meletios, groaning and trying to hold his knee, his groin, his ribs, and a couple of dislocated fingers, all at the same time.
Krispos stood over the other two grooms, breathing hard. One of his eyes was half closed and a collarbone had gotten a fearful whack, but he'd dished out a lot more than he'd taken. He picked up the shovel and tossed it between Meletios and Barses. 'You can shovel out for yourselves.'
Meletios grabbed the shovel and started to swing it at Krispos' ankles. Krispos stamped on his hand. Meletios shrieked and let go. Krispos kicked him in the ribs with force nicely calculated to yield maximum hurt and minimum permanent damage. 'Come to think of it, Meletios, you do the shoveling today. You just earned it.'
Even through his pain, Meletios let out an indignant squawk and cast a look of appeal toward Barses.
The other groom was just sitting up. He shook his head, then grimaced as he regretted the motion. 'I'm not going to argue with him, Meletios, and if you have any sense, you won't, either.' He managed a lopsided grin. 'Nobody with any sense is going to argue with Krispos, not after today.'
The harassment did not disappear. With a dozen grooms ranging from their mid-teens up to Krispos' age, and all living in one another's pockets, that would hardly have been possible. But after Krispos dealt with Barses and Meletios, he was accepted as one of the group and got to hand it out as well as take it.
Not only that, he got himself listened to, where before the other grooms had paid no attention to what he thought. Thus when they were hashing over the best way to treat a horse with a mild but stubborn fever, one of them turned to Krispos and asked,'What would you have done about this in that backwoods place you came from?'
'The green forage is all very well,' he said after a little thought, 'and the wet, sloppy food and gruel, but we always said there was nothing like beer to speed things along.'
'Beer?' The grooms whopped.
Barses asked, 'For us or the animal?'
Krispos laughed, too, but said, 'For the animal. A bucket or three ought to do the job.'
'He means it,' Meletios said in surprise. He turned thoughtful. He was all business where horses were concerned. Iakovitzes tolerated no groom who was not, whatever other charms he might have. In a musing tone, Meletios went on, 'What say we try it? I don't see how it could do any harm.'
So a couple of buckets of beer went into the horse's trough every morning, and if the grooms bought a bit more than the sick animal really needed, why, only they knew about that. And after a few days, the horse's condition did improve: his breathing slowed, his eyes brightened, and his skin and mouth lost the dry look and feel they'd had while he was ill.
'Well done,' Barses said when the horse was clearly on the mend. 'Next time I take a fever, you know what to do with me, though I'd sooner have wine, I think.' Krispos threw a clod of dirt at him.
Iakovitzes had watched the treatment with as much interest as any of the grooms. When it succeeded, he handed Krispos a goldpiece. 'And come sup with me this evening, if you care to,' he said, his sharp voice as smooth as he could make it.
'Thank you very much, sir,' Krispos said.
Meletios sulked for the rest of the day. Krispos finally asked him what was wrong. He glared. 'If I told you I was jealous, you'd probably beat on me again.'
'Jealous?' Krispos needed a few seconds to catch on. 'Oh! Don't worry about that. I only fancy girls.'
'So you say,' Meletios answered darkly. 'But Iakovitzes fancies you.'
Krispos snorted and went back to work. Around sunset, he walked over to Iakovitzes' main house. This was the first meal he'd eaten there since his breakfast of lobster tail; the grooms had their own dining hall. Like as not, he thought, Meletios was fretting over nothing; if some big banquet was planned, Krispos might not even be at the same table as his master.
As soon as Gomaris led him to a chamber large enough only for two, Krispos knew Meletios had been right and he himself wrong. A small lamp on the table left most of the room in twilight. 'Hello, Krispos,' Iakovitzes said, rising to greet him. 'Here, have some wine.'
He poured with his own hand. Krispos was used to the rough vintages the villagers had made for themselves. What Iakovitzes gave him slid down his throat like a smooth whisper. He would have thought it mere grape juice but for the warmth it left in his middle.
'Another cup?' Iakovitzes asked solicitously. 'I'd like the chance to toast you for your cleverness in dosing Stormbreeze. The beast seems in fine fettle again, thanks to you.'
Iakovitzes raised his cup in salute. Krispos knew drinking too much with his master was not a good idea, but had no polite way to do anything else. The wine was so good, he scarcely felt guilty about soaking it up.
Gomaris fetched in supper, a platter of halibut grilled with garlic and leeks. The herbs' sharp flavors reminded Krispos of his home, but the only fish he'd had there was an occasional trout or carp taken from a stream, hardly worth mentioning beside a delicacy like this. 'Delicious,' he mumbled in one of the few moments when his mouth was not full.
