On the Road to Teman: Chapter 2

For the next three months, Justus learned what it was like to be a squire to Kelsie. Kelsie didn’t own a home, so they lived in the castle barracks with other landless soldiers. Although Justus was little more than a servant—cleaning up after Kelsie, delivering messages, doing whatever was asked—he at least had food to eat and a place to sleep. Sure, it was just a mat on the floor, but it was Justus’ mat, and it was away from Darkhaven.

Days weren’t too bad. At least there was some training with wooden swords, and always there was wrestling with the other squires. Justus often took out his frustration on the others, which turned out to his advantage. Anger spurred him to fight hard and never accept defeat.

The youngest of the squires, Charles Iscuro, befriended him immediately. The two of them were the only fourteen-year-olds and the only first-year squires among those at the barracks. Charles helped Justus learn his way around the city and the castle, particularly the armory. Since Charles had been a page for the past seven years, he knew a lot more than Justus did and taught him what he should do and how he should act around certain people, especially the barons when they were in town.

Despite the change in his life, things didn’t move along as quickly as Justus would have liked. He kept thinking things were bound to get better. Surely some real weapons training would start soon. He spent every free moment in the armory, looking over the weapons, holding them, getting the feel of them, but as the days passed he began to doubt. It didn’t seem as though Kelsie wanted to make a soldier out of him after all. He just wanted a man-slave.

Nights were the worst. Kelsie spent nearly every evening at the tavern, drinking himself into a stupor. Then Justus would have to drag him back to the barracks, undress him and put him to bed, and keep everyone else from making noise and waking him. The next morning, Kelsie would be in a sour mood and took it all out on Justus. It was Uncle Milford all over again.

Finally, at the end of his third month, Justus felt a glimmer of hope when Kelsie took him to the armory and said, “Go grab yerself a sword.” Justus snatched up a wooden sword and happily headed toward the castle door.

Kelsie said, “King Arkelaus is gonna be watching all you squires today. Wants ta see how good ya are. Do me proud, boy.”

“Yes, sir!”

As Justus emerged from the castle and stepped into the courtyard, he passed a tall, robust man with graying golden hair and a weathered, unshaven face. General Rolland Longsword, feared and admired among all Rygian soldiers, Justus included. He had seen Rolland watching him at training, and he had seen admiration on the general’s face. Rolland’s face was stoic as Justus passed by, but Justus thought he caught a glint in his eye.

“Mornin’, Corden,” Rolland said with a slight tilt of his head.

“Uh, m… mornin’, General,” Justus stuttered, stopping to stare up at him. That was the first time the general had ever addressed him directly.

Rolland said, “Do your best today. The king’ll be watching.”

As Rolland turned to enter the castle, Justus stared after him, watching the ornate silver sword emblem on his blue tunic fade down the corridor.

“Hey, Corden, what’re ya waitin’ fer?” Kelsie hollered from the center of the courtyard. Justus trotted to join his master and a couple dozen other squires and their masters. “Here, gimmie that.” Kelsie took the wooden sword from Justus and motioned toward the other boys.

Aside from Charles, all were older, between the ages of fifteen and eighteen. All had seven years of page training under their belts before they had even become squires. Now, many of them had a few years of squire training as well.

Despite his drawbacks, Justus was the tallest and knew how to use his height to his advantage.

“Start warmin’ up, boys!” Kelsie shouted.

That was their cue to stretch their muscles through wrestling. Immediately four older boys approached Justus.

“Tired of the trouncing you got yesterday?” Justus teased. “Looking for revenge?”

He watched the leader of the boys motion to another, a stocky lad, who moved behind Justus. Justus kept his eyes on the leader and his ears on the crunching of footsteps behind him. When it sounded like the stocky one was right behind him, he spun around and grabbed him around the neck. Using him for balance, he kicked out a long leg and sent the leader sprawling. Tossing the stocky one aside, he gave a third boy a blow to the jaw.

A fourth rushed him. Justus grabbed him by the arms and swung him into the stocky lad, who had risen and was about to charge. Both boys rolled in the dust.

Huh, Justus thought, looking toward the castle door. I thought the king was gonna be here. Too bad he ain’t here to see that.

After long minutes of sparring with several other squires and downing each one, Justus was called away by his master. Kelsie approached holding a three-foot steel broadsword. “Here, Corden. Give this a try.”

When Kelsie tossed the sword, Justus caught it by the hilt. Finally! A real sword! It was heavier than it looked, and he found he had to spread his feet to steady himself. Imitating moves he’d seen the soldiers do, he sliced the air several times, back and forth, making figure eights.

“Ready?” Kelsie drew his own sword. Without warning, he swung the blade around and down.

Justus responded by instinct. His blade blocked Kelsie’s and threw it back. But Kelsie was quick, repeating the attack from the opposite side. Again Justus parried the blow.

“Not bad,” Kelsie said between strikes. “You been payin’ attention.”

“Yeah, I been watching the soldiers.”

“Tell you what,” Kelsie said amid the ring of steel. “Disarm me, and I’ll buy you a pint.”

Justus smiled. But again Kelsie was quick. This time, he carved a tight arc around the blade and wrenched it from Justus’ hand. The sword lifted into the air and landed with a thud in the dirt.

Soldiers chuckled. Squires laughed out loud. Kelsie said, “Next time, don’t take a foolish bet. Be a few years before you can best your master.”

Standing over the sword, Justus stared down at it. Although the laughter had subsided, it still rang in his ears. A few years, huh? He picked up the sword and shouted, “Kelsie!”

Kelsie faced him. With a surprised look and a shake of his head, he said, “Don’t make no sense to humiliate yerself a second time.”

“Maybe I got no sense, then. Have at me.”

“Fine. I don’t mind puttin’ ya in yer place.” Kelsie drew his sword and immediately swung.

Justus parried that blow and the next. Another parry to the left, one to the right, then he cleaved a tight arc around Kelsie’s blade in the same manner he had seen it done. Kelsie’s sword flipped from his hand. It seemed to pause in the air before falling to the ground flat.

Soldiers and squires stared dumbstruck for a second then burst into cheers. Kelsie grumbled. For an instant, Justus saw something on Kelsie’s face he hadn’t seen before. Fear. Not a scared kind of fear, but the kind you might feel knowing you were about to be replaced. A hate-filled kind of fear.

A voice from atop the castle roof called down. “I say! Ho there, young Corden!”

Shading his eyes and looking upward, Justus squinted into the morning sun to see King Arkelaus standing with General Rolland at the parapet on the roof of the castle. The king’s golden, shoulder-length hair gleamed in the sunlight almost as brightly as the jewel-studded crown on his head.

So that’s where he was. I wonder how long he’s been there. “Good day, Your Majesty,” Justus said, sweeping his arm out as he bowed at the waist.

“And a good day to you. I say, how long have you been practicing with a full-sized broadsword?”

Justus peered at the sword in his hands, then to Kelsie, then back up to the king. “Why, it’s my first time, Sire.”

The king and General Rolland exchanged several quiet words, then the king turned and headed out of sight. No sooner had Justus begun to wonder if he’d made some offense, Rolland called down, “Stay there, lad. We’re coming to you.”

The soldiers and squires in the courtyard murmured as the minutes passed. Feeling certain he was about to be reprimanded, Justus asked Kelsie, “What’s going on?”

“Don’t know,” Kelsie grumbled. “And I don’t like it none.”

Finally the door opened and the general and king stepped out. King Arkelaus strode right up to Justus, who bowed.

“Look at me, boy,” the king said.

Justus straightened and looked the king dead in the eyes, which he found to be very bright and full of wisdom.

“You were right, Rolland,” the king said. “Fearless. Arrogant, perhaps?”

“Undoubtedly,” Rolland said.

“I can’t have that,” the king said.

Justus braced for a rebuke.

“Where are you from, lad?” the king asked.

“Darkhaven, Sire.”

“Darkhaven! Well, it’s no wonder then. You must’ve grown up fighting.”

“Yes, Sire.”

King Arkelaus stared at Justus for several more moments, looking him up and down before calling to Kelsie.

Kelsie bowed. “Yes, Sire?”

“I want this boy placed under Rolland’s tutelage.”

Justus’ eyebrows popped up, but not as high as Kelsie’s did. “You what, Sire?” Kelsie asked. “You can’t do that! I found him! He belongs to me!”

“Found him, did you?” the king said. “Rumor has it you bought the boy.”

“Well, I, uh…”

“Did you or did you not exchange money for this lad?” The king’s voice was demanding now.

Kelsie dropped his gaze. “I did, Sire.” For a moment, Justus wondered why Kelsie told the truth. Then he realized that he himself could verify the exchange of coin. Kelsie had no choice.

King Arkelaus said, “You know how I feel about the buying and selling of my subjects. Consider yourself fortunate that I don’t strip your title and banish you from the city. Taking the squire from you is a light punishment. Corden, you belong to Rolland now.”

As Kelsie stomped off, Justus peered up at Rolland, mouth agape.

“Shut your fly trap, boy,” Rolland said without smiling. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” Justus said as he followed.

“My house.”

“What for?”

“If you’re gonna work for me, you oughta know where I live, don’t you think?”

“Am I going to live there too?”

“Yes. If you got any belongings, best get them now.”

“I don’t got nuthin.”

“‘Don’t got nuthin’?”

“No, sir, not a thing.”

“I’m not talking about your stuff, Corden, I’m talking about your speech. ‘Don’t got nuthin’. Hah! The king’s highest commander won’t have a squire who can’t talk right. You’re gonna be spending a lot of time in the castle now, serving the king and whatnot. Can’t be talking like peasant-folk. Look, I know I don’t always talk right, but at least I can talk respectable most times. I don’t suppose you can read or write.”

“No, sir.” Justus found he had to hurry to keep up with the general’s long strides. They had passed through the castle gatehouse and now headed south across the Cherith River bridge.

“Well, we’ll get started on that,” Rolland said. “Maybe some reading lessons will get you talking right.”

Shortly after crossing the bridge, they took a road that led westward through the woods. Not far down the road, a small cottage sat in a glade, its thatched roof shadowed by tall oak trees. Behind the house, a wooden fence held two horses at pasture.

“This your house?” Justus asked.

“Don’t be asking stupid questions. Of course it’s my house.” Rolland pushed open the door and stepped inside, Justus following. The cottage was small—just one room with a small round table in the near corner, a bed in the far corner, near the fireplace, and a couple of trunks for belongings. On second look, Justus spied a cot against the wall on the other side of the fireplace.

Rolland motioned toward the cot. “That’s your bed.”

“A bed? I get a bed?”

“You’ll get a bed whenever we sleep here. Sometimes I stay in the castle. On those days, you’ll take a mat in the barracks with the other squires.”

Justus stood over the cot, looking down at it, saying nothing.

“Something wrong?” Rolland asked.

“No, nuthin’s wrong. Ain’t never had a bed before.” Justus sat on it. “Why’s this here, anyway? Did you know the king would give me to you?”

Rolland chuckled. “You’re not the only squire I’ve ever had.”

“Oh.” For some reason, Justus felt a little jealous not being the only one. Despite Rolland’s gruff manner, there was an underlying kindness to the man. Not to mention the fact that being squire to the highest officer in the realm was quite the step up.

“Why’d the king give me to you?” he asked.

“He wanted you brought up right.”

“Brought up right? What do you mean?”

Rolland sat at the small round table and motioned for Justus to join him. Taking the chair opposite the general, Justus looked straight into his steel-blue eyes.

“That’s good, looking a man in the eyes like that,” Rolland said. “Not a lot of squires got that kind of pluck.”

“Fearless?” Justus said, repeating the king’s word proudly.

“Arrogant,” Rolland said decisively. “Like Kelsie. King Arkelaus won’t have that.”

“I thought you said it was good. Plucky.”

“It’s good if it truly is fearlessness. But with you, I think it’s arrogance. You stay with Kelsie and it truly will be. It’s my job to drive it out of you.”

“What if I don’t want it driven out?”

Rolland leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “Yup, it’s arrogance.”

“Arrogance, fearlessness… what’s the difference? It keeps me on the winning edge.”

“You think so, huh? Tell me, Corden, what does Kelsie do in the evenings?”

“He’s at the tavern, usually.”

“What’s he do there?”

“Drinks, mostly. Ain’t that what everyone does?”

“Drinks? Drowns in it, I’d say. Where does that leave you?”

“I take care of him after. Guess I don’t see nuthin wrong with it.”

“That’s your problem right there. You don’t see ‘nuthin’ wrong with it. Pretty soon it’ll be you needing someone to drag you home to sleep it off.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“To lots of folks, nothing. To King Arkelaus, it’s everything. He’s looking for good men. Good men, Corden, understand? Men who care more about loyalty and uprightness than temporary pleasures. Men who keep their wits about them at all times, not compromising themselves with too much drink. Men who care more about obedience and lawfulness—more than money, more than esteem, even more than this.” With his last word, Rolland smacked his own forearm, grabbing at the thick muscle there.

“More than strength?” Justus asked.

“Don’t be a wise-acre. Yes, more than strength, what else could I mean?”

Justus wondered if he was going to have to put up with Rolland’s put-downs for the next seven years. Still, something within him stirred, as though a small spark of decency, dormant since birth, suddenly sprung to life. More than that, he felt as though he finally found someone he could look up to—literally.

Rolland rose and removed his sword belt. “Here, you can start by sharpening this. There’s a whetstone on the hearth.”

As Justus pulled the sword from its sheath, his mouth dropped open. “Whoa, this is beautiful!”

The silver blade was etched in ivy from the hilt all the way to the point—heart-shaped ivy leaves, each intricately filigreed. Just under the hilt, the ivy came to full bloom with a three-petaled flower. The length of the crossguard bore the wings of an eagle outstretched in both directions—white wings edged in gold.

But what really drew Justus’ eyes were the gems—a ruby at one end of the crossguard and a sapphire at the other. A diamond sparkled in the pommel. “It’s just like the sword on your cloak.”

“What did you think it would look like?” Rolland asked.

“I thought you carried a plain sword like everyone else. I thought your emblem was just, well, an emblem.”

“No, it’s my family emblem and my family sword. And it’s old, so treat it with respect.”

“How old is it?”

“I don’t know. Been handed down for generations.”

“How many generations?”

“If I knew that, I’d know how old it is, wouldn’t I?”

Feeling a bit embarrassed for all his stupid questions, Justus turned back to gaze at the sword. On closer look, he could see tiny symbols filigreed in gold next to each jewel. “What’s this?”

“Don’t know,” Rolland said.

“Are they symbols of some sort? They almost look like—”

“Letters. Yeah, I know. But I’ve never seen letters like that before. Don’t know what they mean.”

“Didn’t anyone in your family know?” Justus asked.

“Maybe they did, long ago. But time has a way of losing things.”

While Justus ran his fingers over the delicate filigree, Rolland asked, “What about your family?”

Justus stiffened, anger simmering in his belly. “What about ‘em?”

“Who are they? What does your father do?”

“He’s dead. Died before I was born. I never knew him.”

“Sorry to hear that. How did he die?”

“He was murdered, all right? Anything else you want to know?” The rage began to come out in his voice.

“Do you know who did it?”

“Didn’t ya hear me? It happened before I was born.”

“Did your mother know who did it?”

“I dunno. She died when I was four. Been livin’ with her brother ever since.”

“Was he good to you?”

“Not ever.” Justus knew his tone was sharp, but he couldn’t help it. Nor could he help the cold shadow that he felt on his face. “Liked to remind me that my pa got himself killed. And he didn’t never say nuthin’ nice about my ma ‘cause he didn’t like that he had ta care for me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Guess you got a lot of black marks to start you off in life. I’ll have to start rectifying that right off.”

Rectifying it? Justus wondered. Slowly a new feeling overcame him, pushing away the cold shadow and the anger. He almost didn’t want to feel it, almost stuffed it back down inside, but then Rolland did something that made Justus nearly break down.

Opening a small box on a shelf on the mantle, Rolland pulled out a silver brooch shaped like a leaf of ivy with intricate filigree etching just like the ivy on his sword and his emblem. Just like the brooch Rolland wore at his own shoulder.

He set the brooch on the table in front of Justus. “Here you go. It’s yours now, as long as you work for me.”

Justus choked back the lump in his throat. He didn’t like this kind of emotion washing over him, didn’t want to show that kind of weakness, so he squelched it.

Rolland retook his seat. “I’ve been watching you, Corden. King Arkelaus and I’ve been talking. You got a lot of potential. But you also got a lot of anger bottled up inside. You gotta let go of it or it’ll kill you.”

“How did you know what’s inside me?” Justus said, fingering the ivy-leaf brooch, embarrassed at the way his voice caught.

“Cuz I got it too.”

Mouth agape, Justus said, “How’d you get rid of it?”

“I’ll let you know when I do.”

What? Rolland? Full of anger inside? He never showed it, at least not that Justus had seen. Sure, he was terse, his manner gruff, but he was also even-tempered. His eyes shone with intelligence, sometimes even compassion. How he managed to be that way while harboring anger from some unknown source, Justus couldn’t fathom.