the way.
Forced to stop, I was about to turn to face the King’s Guards directly behind me when over the din of the marketplace I heard a noise that left me frozen in fear: the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard.
11
Grasping the hilt of my sword, I hesitated. I couldn’t decide whether to turn and face my attackers or take flight. I felt something horrible was about to happen. When the man with the vegetable cart abruptly moved out of the way, I was startled to see Sir Basil standing in the street in front of me.
“Tristan!” His voice bellowed over the noise. “I was wondering what happened to you!”
A sense of relief washed over me. Taking a quick glance to my rear, I noticed that the King’s Guards had disappeared, melting away in the crowd. My breath returned to normal, but the prickly feeling of fear still crawled across my flesh. Why were they following me? Even more worrisome, had they been about to attack me? Were they there to take me into custody? Had I done something in our brief meeting that had offended the King? I couldn’t think of an answer.
“Sir Thomas wishes you to return to the Commandery immediately,” Sir Basil said.
For a moment, I considered telling him about the guards and what had happened in the marketplace, but I realized that I had no real evidence of anything. Perhaps I had been mistaken? I stood there for a moment, trying to figure it all out. Sir Basil noticed the puzzled expression on my face. “What’s wrong, boy?” he asked.
“I…I thought I…Nothing, sire. Nothing. I will return to the Commandery at once,” I said.
“You’ll find Sir Thomas waiting for you at the practice field,” said Sir Basil, winking at me as he headed off on whatever other business had brought him here. I managed to return to the Commandery, Dauntless in tow, without further incident. I wondered if I should tell Sir Thomas what had transpired in the marketplace. As I reached the practice field, I thought it best to keep it to myself. Indeed I would be hard-pressed to even identify any of the guards who had followed me that day. Maybe I would tell him later, after I had had time to think over the incident more clearly.
The practice field lay behind the Commandery, not far from our quarters. I watched as a knight led his horse through its paces, charging first one way, then the other around a series of posts that had been set in the ground. At last, the knight, who was carrying a steel-tipped lance, rose slightly on the stirrups. He spurred the horse forward, the lance held tight against his side, then thrust it forward through a steel ring that hung from the target. The ring detached from the string that held it and slid down the length of the lance that the knight now pointed skyward. He reined his horse to a stop, then trotted back to the target. Lowering the lance, his squire stepped forward to remove the ring and retie it to the post.
“Well done, Brother Wesley,” Sir Thomas called out.
He noticed my approach then. “There you are. I see Little John has delivered my gift.”
“Sire, I had no idea. I’m not sure if I can accept such a…”
Sir Thomas raised his hand. “No fuss, lad. You are my squire. It is my duty to see that you are properly equipped. The sword pleases you, I take it?”
“Yes, sire, it is a beautiful weapon,” I said.
Sir Thomas beamed a smile. “Good. Excellent. Well then, now would seem the perfect time to begin your training. Follow me.”
In a corner of the field stood a weapons rack. Sir Thomas pulled a large battle sword from it and handed it to me. It was longer and heavier than my own sword, and I found it difficult to lift, let alone hold.
“You will need to practice and work to gain strength in your arms and upper body,” he said. “The battlefield is no place to learn that you can’t lift or move something at a crucial moment.”
Sir Thomas returned the battle sword to the rack, picking up two wooden practice swords instead, and handed one to me.
“Grip it like this,” he said. He held the hilt of the sword out so that I could see how both of his hands curled around it, the forefinger of his left hand slightly overlapping the little finger of the right hand. I took the same grip on the sword and held it in front of me at the ready.
Thus began my first practice with the sword. Sir Thomas was a magnificent swordsman, and after a while, I was covered with welts and bruises from being pummeled by his wooden sword. It flashed and darted at me like a serpent’s tongue. If I managed to stop or parry one of his thrusts, he whacked back at me even faster twice or three times.
From that first moment on the field, practice and work became the essential elements of my life. Over the next few weeks, I immersed myself in the world of the Templars, quickly learning what was expected of me. As in my previous life, there was work and plenty of it. After the first few days I learned that whereas the monks concerned themselves with growing their crops and praying to God, the Templars were all about preparing to fight. In fact, Sir Basil said the life of a Templar knight was divided into three stages: getting ready to fight, fighting and getting ready to fight again.
On a typical day, we squires took our weapons practice in the afternoon. It was during such a session that Sir Hugh made another effort to bully me.
We were drilling with the wooden training swords under the watchful eye of Master Sergeanto LeMaire. A squat yet powerfully built man, he was a stern taskmaster on the practice field, but an excellent instructor. On this day he led us through our paces, having us practice swings and jabs, then paired us off to work on sparring. I was teamed with Quincy.
Sir Hugh came strolling by the line of squires as if he were a general inspecting his troops. At first I thought he would ignore me as he stopped to instruct a pair of the squires on their technique. Watching him from the corner of my eye, I had to admit that Sir Hugh was an excellent swordsman, perhaps as good as Sir Thomas. He was graceful and moved well, and I realized he would be a formidable foe in a fight. As he moved closer to us, Quincy and I kept practicing and I tried to ignore his presence, hoping he would move on. Soon, however, he stood next to us, watching as we sparred.
Quincy jabbed at me with the wooden sword. Stepping forward, I swung my weapon to the left with the blade upright, solidly blocking the thrust. He stepped back, preparing to move forward again, but Sir Hugh stopped us.
“That was the most pitiful parry I’ve ever seen,” he said.
His words stung, but I tried not to pay him any mind. “Forgive me, sire. I am new at this,” I said.
“No excuse. We are here to fight. If you can’t do that, you are of little use. A weak link in the chain like you can get us all killed.”
Sir Hugh’s eyes bore into me, but I refused to be baited. “Then I will keep practicing until I am the strongest link, sire,” I said.
Sir Hugh snorted. “Give me your sword,” he said to Quincy. Quincy was uncertain what to do for a moment, but timidly handed the weapon to Sir Hugh.
“Attack me,” he commanded.
I was reluctant to move.
“In God’s name, boy, I have given you an order! Attack!” he yelled.
I made a halfhearted lunge with my weapon. With blinding speed, he easily parried the thrust, then swung back, striking me solidly across my upper right arm. My arm went numb and I cried out in pain.
“Horrible defense,” he said. “If this were a real sword, your arm would be lying in the dust right now. Attack again.”
I couldn’t feel anything in my right arm below the elbow and couldn’t grip the sword correctly. My cry of pain had brought the training of the other squires to a halt, and they and Sergeanto LeMaire turned to watch, stunned, waiting to see what would happen next.
“Sire, my arm…,” I said.
“Boy, you listen to me! Attack!” Sir Hugh did not wait for me to move. Taking a giant lunge forward he brought the wooden sword swinging down at full speed. I had only a second to raise my weapon, which I held in my
