Chapter 1
Hooves pounded the ground, rumbling like thunder as four-hundred mounted men galloped across the field. Each time the horn blew, the riders in the fore changed formation. Those behind followed in unison, as a school of fish or flock of birds, each individual moving so perfectly with his neighbors, they appeared as if of one mind.
Maurice’s neck and shoulders foamed and Cedrick clung to the saddle, squeezing his knees as tight as he could. Soreness would plague his legs and backside, probably preventing restful sleep, but Cedrick couldn’t dwell on the future. He had a job to do and every man’s part was important. He pulled his cloak tighter, against the cutting wind of the northern plains, and kept Maurice’s head in line.
Another horn blast sounded, telling the men to arrange themselves into a final formation. Cedric found his place with the other cadets, behind two lines of standard-bearers flying black and gold royal banners. It was a good day.
*
Cedrick tossed the currycomb in a bucket and handed Maurice’s reins to a groom. His stomach growled, warning him how much energy he’d spent. “Thank you,” Cedrick said, tossing a coin to the groom. If only there was time to wash the midsummer dust and sweat away before he had to stand for the ceremony with the other cadets. Or grab a bite to eat—that sounded good, too.
Another young man dismounted beside Cedrick, in the barracks courtyard. “I heard you’re leaving tomorrow, Ced. Aren’t you going to miss Andruain?”
Cedrick smiled to his best friend. “I miss my family more.”
“Not me,” Jamie said, sniffing.
He looked so much like Cedrick, the two had been mistaken for brothers more than once since starting their training together. Both had blonde hair and stood over six feet, and when they were dressed in uniform, they were hard to tell apart, except that Jamie occasionally sported a short beard, mostly when he got lazy or his blade ran dull. Cedrick was always clean-shaved, no matter how much of his allowance it took to keep a sharp blade in his bedside chest.
As another cadet dismounted in the courtyard, Jamie pulled off his gloves and untied the cuffs of his shirt, for comfort. “I pray daily that they ask me to take the oath.”
“Think it’s done any good?” asked Gareth, a lanky youth with sandy brown hair hanging over his shoulders. “Competition’s fierce this year.” He patted his mount’s neck and handed away his reins.
“Have you ever known me to back down from a challenge?” Jamie asked, flexing his bicep for show.
Gareth shrugged. “Not really. Guess you find out today whether your prayers have paid off.”
The sons of rich nobles, Jamie and Gareth aspired to knighthood to bolster their families’ names. Cedrick knew he had no chance. The son of a soldier, it had been no small feat for his parents to send him to an esteemed academy. He dusted his uniform, trying to appear unconcerned. “I’ve been praying for Jamie too.”
“Well that’s it then, isn’t it?” Gareth asked in mock disgust, yanking his gloves off and folding them with a pronounced slap. “If Cedrick’s been talking to the gods for you, you’re sure to be knighted. He and Llyra are like this.” He crossed his first and middle finger and held the symbol in Jamie’s face.
“I’ve the same small odds as you,” Jamie said, shoving Gareth’s hand away. “And don’t make fun of Ced.”
“I’d never have a go at you,” Gareth said, patting Cedrick’s backside.
“Get off me,” Cedrick growled, shoving Gareth.
Gareth blew a kiss and grinned broadly. When Cedrick audiblized his disgust, the crude jokester finally let go his jest and turned more serious. “Are you two going to compete in this fall’s tournament?”
“My father would never let me,” Jamie said with a laugh. “He’d tell me he’s got too much invested in me to let me die under a horse’s hooves in a tiltyard.”
Gareth smirked. “So it’s not your hide he’s worried about, just that you live long enough to repay his investment...”
“That about sums it up,” Jamie said.
Cedrick sighed and pushed past the other young men. “I don’t know about you two, but I don’t want to miss the king’s speech. See you down there.”
“Good thinking. I wouldn’t want to be late to my own knighting,” Gareth called after Cedrick.
*
Eight young men took a knee before the king that afternoon, and Cedrick’s heart leapt when he heard that James Vawne was one of them. So Jamie’s father would be pleased. Hopefully, he would tell his son he was proud. It was no secret that Jamie longed for his father's approval more than anything.
Cedrick felt a momentary twinge of jealousy before he smiled genuinely for his friend and the other honored men. His father would welcome him back regardless of the condition in which he returned. If only Jamie was so lucky.
After the ceremony, there was a grand feast. The hall staff furnished a fine spread, and wines and ales to satisfy both the cadets and the soldiers who trained them. Veterans and green soldiers dined next to each other, enjoying the bounty paid for by the crown to honor them. Laughter filled the mess hall.
Cedrick greedily filled up two trenchers for himself and brought them back to the sideboard where Jamie sat with some of the other young men that graduated that day.
“Cedrick,” Alfred called, pulling out a chair. “Jamie says you are leaving tomorrow. Will you miss us?”
“Not likely.” Cedrick laughed, taking the seat.
“Oho,” said Magnis, one of the few foreigners other than Cedrick at the academy. “Cerodrac is flying home, is he?” Magnis always referred to Cedrick by the nickname he invented. It meant “little dragon” or something similar in his language.
“I say the sooner, the better,” Jamie teased. “Before he has a chance to finish writing his knightly rulebook and the king gets a glance at it. Gods know I could never live by such standards.” He fingered the gold lion brooch on his shoulder, symbol of Andruain—the king’s charge, front and center on his royal arms.
Cedrick playfully punched his friend, beside him. “It’s not a list of rules, it’s a code of honor.” He wasn’t upset at Jamie’s jibes, but happy for his friend who was enjoying his new status.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jamie said, rubbing his sore shoulder. “All I want to know is why it’s dishonorable to have a pint with my mates.”
“It clouds your judgment,” Cedrick said.
“Aye,” Jamie said, raising his mug to his lips. “That’s the point.”
“But, a pure soul is disciplined and calm. Drinking can lead to very poor decisions.”
“True enough,” Louden said, setting his own mug down, “but an occasional lapse in judgment isn’t exactly the end of the world, is it?”
Cedrick wasn’t usually one to speak with his mouth full of food, but Louden’s comment demanded an immediate retort. “When one acts in a depraved manner, he must repent!”
Jamie laughed. “Oh, so now I’m depraved, am I?”
“Jamie,” Magnis said in a warning tone. “Cerodrac just believes in a code of conduct...”
“That doesn’t include ale?” Louden gasped melodramatically.
“Or women,” Jamie chimed in.
Alfred snickered. “Gods, what’s next to go, food? Air?”
“Leave him alone,” said Gareth. “I think swearing off women is the best idea I’ve heard him come up with. They only break your heart.” He took a long drink. “That’s why the gods made beer, though, Ced. To heal men’s hearts again.”
The lads agreed with Gareth, toasting their support and clanking their mugs back onto the wooden plank.
“Why are you swearing off life’s pleasures anyway, Cedrick? Louden asked.
“Holy knights should be pure of mind, body and soul, like the paladins of old.”
“The paladins?” Jamie asked. “But they are idealized in legends, Ced. If you think those men never had a beer or a woman...”
“There’s nothing wrong with a drink if you don’t overdo it,” Gareth interrupted.
“Nor loving a woman,” Magnis said in agreement. “In fact, what could be more natural than that? It’s as spiritual a thing as any.”
Alfred smiled smugly. “I know a girl that would change your mind. She’s done some pretty unnatural things to me.”
“I’ll bet,” Gareth said, rolling his eyes. “No thanks, I’ll take a virtuous woman if it’s all the same to you. The kind of women you keep for company aren’t the sort I’d touch with Magnis’ hands and you lot cheering me on from the benches!”
“Why’s it got to be my hands?”
“I’d rather have a loving woman than a virgin.” Jamie shrugged, peering deep into his dark mug. “But, it looks like my father will decide that for me as well.”
Cedrick gasped. “You would wed an unchaste woman?”
“I’m just saying that I’d prefer a real girl to one who’s been locked away by her parents and sold to the highest bidder, like a heifer at auction.”
“I’ll have a pure woman for my wife,” Cedrick said. “Then there can be no question of her loyalty and obedience. Until then, I’d just as soon keep my honor intact and my mind on more important things.”
Gareth laughed. “Obedience? Ha!”
“I agree with Jamie,” Magnis said. “The sum of a woman is a difficult thing to judge. In my country, we praise women that are strong and educated, not meek and sheltered.”
Cedrick’s patience began to wear. “I grew up in a temple, I think I know a thing or two about judging a person’s virtue.”
“Okay,” Gareth said, raising his voice to be heard over the noise of the room. “Let’s agree to disagree, lads. We’re all friends here, aren’t we? Whether we prefer common sluts, buxom widows, scholars, or priestesses,” he looked around the table at the other guys respectively, “there are fish in the sea for all of us.”
“Hey, what about me?” Louden asked. “You skipped me.”
“No female in her right mind would have you, Louden,” Gareth said with a smug smile. “I’ll tell ye that for nothing.”
The other young men laughed, raising their tankards. Having put the matter to rest, the feasting and drinking continued well into the shortest night of the year.
“Each of us is going someplace different,” Magnis said, standing. “But a pact let us make this day, lads, to be friends for eternity. Have you some words of wisdom for us to set out with, Cerodrac?” There’s no need to show the knighting, unless he does it to support his friend. But the friend has no bearing on the story. Maybe show Cedrick being razzed by one of the boys and them Jamie steps up and says, “You’re staying until tomorrow, right?
Cedrick stood, not entirely prepared to speak words of motivation, but willing to try for his friends.
“March on when dawn is come, soldiers of the lion’s son.
Let every heart we touch recall the honor fraught within us all,
For each of us are loyal true, to the king and Liltha too
And as we leave this sacred place, remember each and every face
Of our brothers and our friends, and pray our paths will cross again.”
Mugs and palms pounded on the planks, and those youths nearest Cedrick clapped him on the back. When at last the festivities wound down, Cedrick and the other young men made their way for the barracks. Their parting was heartfelt, but an inevitable end to the bonds they’d formed in three years.
Sleep eluded Cedrick that night, as his thoughts turned to home. His mother surely led the vigil in Rheinguard, preparing for their knighting ceremony, held the morning after the solstice.
After living within the temple’s walls for a few months, and learning about a knight’s duties to the clergy, the candidates were bathed by temple priestesses in consecrated water and dressed in white robes. They were given candles and shown to empty cells, where they kept silent vigil all night.
At dawn, a priestess would fetch each one of the candidates and read him a passage from the holy scriptures. The high priest would take the candidates’ confessions and cleanse their souls.
King Darsten would speak, and the candidates, still in their white robes, would kneel and pledge their loyalty to the king and his people. They would receive a white sash bearing a pin—a silver mountain aster on a red crown, the symbol of Rheinguard’s knights. Cedrick placed his right hand over his heart, where he hoped his own silver aster pin would one day proudly sit.
As dawn broke, Cedrick made his way to the stable, his saddlebags already packed with his meager possessions. The road home would be a long one and without camping gear, he’d have to follow the roads through the hamlets and villages of the southern territories. A mixed blessing. He abhorred cooking for himself and just thinking about the awful dried rations available in goods stores turned his stomach. He had a few coins left after settling his accounts and was happy enough to spend them on the comfort inn rooms would provide.
“Come on, boy,” Cedrick said, patting his mountain horse’s white neck. “I’ll walk you as far as the gate, but then it’s time to get moving. No more endless grasslands for you, it’s back up to the highlands. You’ll be munching expensive oats and Natalia’s garden greens in a fortnight.”
A fortnight, Cedrick thought, sighing, he’d be hard-pressed to cover the distance in that short a time, even in summer. One good rainstorm and the muddy roads would slow him for days. “Better get going, then,” he muttered to his faithful companion. “The road’s not getting any shorter with us standing here talking about it.”
*
Almost a full day behind schedule, Cedrick led Maurice by his reins into Toneii, a quaint little town full of tradesmen and farmers. Cedrick kicked his dusty boots against the cobblestones surrounding the town center outside a small, weather-beaten chapel. An advantageous location, Cedrick thought. The wells outside the church’s walls were teeming with gossiping washerwomen and a group of hunters watering their horses and dogs. Cedrick stopped for Maurice to have a drink from a wooden trough.
“Move your pony out of the way, boy,” said one of the dark-clad hunters.
Cedrick hadn’t realized the hunter was addressing him until the stranger grabbed the shoulder of Cedrick’s shirt and said again, “I told you to move your pony out of the way and let Lord Harrington’s horses drink first.”
Startled by the bold stranger’s rudeness, Cedrick grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled his shirt free. “I’ll only warn you once to take your hands off me. I might be young, but I’m no boy. I’m a trained soldier and don’t tolerate any man’s hands on me.”
The hunter scowled but stepped back. Through clenched teeth he growled, “Lord Harrington’s horses drink first.”
Cedrick whistled, two quick even notes, and Maurice’s head snapped up. “Come on, boy,” he said, eyes still on the hunter’s. “Seems we must wait our turn.”
As Cedrick walked, Maurice followed, stopping when Cedrick took a seat on a stone wall outside the churchyard.
The dozen hunters talked low while their horses and dogs drank. One feisty mare almost caught a hound with a well-timed kick, and after, even the dogs kept their distance.
“They’re always like that,” a girl said, setting her wash basket on the ground next to Cedrick.
“Excuse me?”
“Edward and his crew,” she said, nodding to the hunters. “They’re always rude, thinking themselves terribly important men, when all they are is a pack of mangy dogs.”
Cedrick didn’t know what to say. He didn’t particularly care for the hunter’s manners, but as an outsider, was happy enough to follow local etiquette, so long as he wasn’t accosted in the process. “It’s alright, Maurice can wait, can’t you, boy?”
Maurice nodded his head in a greatly exaggerated way, tossing his white mane.
The girl giggled and clasped her hands together. “How can he understand?” Her blue eyes studied Maurice.
Cedrick stroked the velvety, gray muzzle. “This town’s pretty, do you think it’s nicer than Rheinguard, boy?”
Maurice didn’t move.
“Well, maybe not,” Cedrick said. “But the girls are prettier, aren’t they, boy?”
His great white head tossed and nodded.
The girl squealed in delight and clapped her hands. “How did you make him do that?”
Cedrick winked. “My secret.”
Her shoulders sagged, but she smiled anyway. “You mentioned Rheinguard, is that where you’re from?”
“Born and raised,” Cedrick said, pride swelling his chest. “I’m on my way home from my schooling in Andruain.”
She crouched to pick up her basket. “I’d better get home, my mother is waiting for the washing.” She put her basket on one hip and patted the horse’s muzzle. “Bye, Maurice, thanks for the laugh.” Then, she gently grabbed Cedrick’s elbow, letting her hand slide down his forearm until she held his hand. “Best wishes, and safe travels.”
“Thanks,” Cedrick muttered, his stomach fluttering from her touch. He watched her go and then took his seat on the wall again, forgetting Maurice’s thirst even after the hunters had cleared out.
“I guess we better find a room for tonight,” Cedrick said, taking Maurice’s reins. He stood and looked east and then south, down both main roads in the small village. He’d passed only one inn, and there didn’t appear to be abundant lodging. Cedrick fingered his few coins in his pocket, and then pulled Maurice around to the north, through the chapel gates. “It isn’t dishonest if we really are in need of lodging,” he said. “Then it’s just begging.” He smiled and patted Maurice’s neck.
After he’d tethered Maurice outside, Cedrick entered the chapel. A man in a bleached linen cassock welcomed Cedrick in, and anointed his forehead with lavender oil. “This is an open altar,” the man said. “Evening ceremony is in two hours, dedicated to Llyra, if you wish to join us.”
Cedrick swept aside his cloak to reveal his silver talisman. “Good brother, I’m a traveler from Rheinguard, and seek a bed for the night and perhaps a meal. Would you help me on my way home?”
The priest set his hand on Cedrick’s shoulder. “Of course, my brother. Share in what we have, and rest well here.”
“Thank you,” Cedrick said. “May I put my horse in your stable?”
*
Cedrick was just about to join the priest, Brother Harris, and his assistants, Brother Tomas and Alisha, for supper, when the front doors of the chapel opened. Brother Harris excused himself, and the other two respectfully waited to serve themselves.
Cedrick’s stomach growled.
Alisha smiled and said, “We don’t get many visitors here, I’m sure he’ll return shortly. Probably just someone collecting bread for the poor.”
Hunching in his chair in a vain attempt to silence his empty stomach, Cedrick smiled back to her. The smells of the dishes taunted his nose, and he grabbed his mug and gulped water greedily.
“Alisha!” Brother Harris shouted from the other room. “Bring your healing bag!”
Desperation. The tone was unmistakable. Cedrick stood from the table and dashed to aid Harris.
When he entered the altar room, the scene stopped Cedrick in his tracks. So much for a peaceful night’s rest in a free bed.
Hooves pounded the ground, rumbling like thunder as four-hundred mounted men galloped across the field. Each time the horn blew, the riders in the fore changed formation. Those behind followed in unison, as a school of fish or flock of birds, each individual moving so perfectly with his neighbors, they appeared as if of one mind.
Maurice’s neck and shoulders foamed and Cedrick clung to the saddle, squeezing his knees as tight as he could. Soreness would plague his legs and backside, probably preventing restful sleep, but Cedrick couldn’t dwell on the future. He had a job to do and every man’s part was important. He pulled his cloak tighter, against the cutting wind of the northern plains, and kept Maurice’s head in line.
Another horn blast sounded, telling the men to arrange themselves into a final formation. Cedric found his place with the other cadets, behind two lines of standard-bearers flying black and gold royal banners. It was a good day.
*
Cedrick tossed the currycomb in a bucket and handed Maurice’s reins to a groom. His stomach growled, warning him how much energy he’d spent. “Thank you,” Cedrick said, tossing a coin to the groom. If only there was time to wash the midsummer dust and sweat away before he had to stand for the ceremony with the other cadets. Or grab a bite to eat—that sounded good, too.
Another young man dismounted beside Cedrick, in the barracks courtyard. “I heard you’re leaving tomorrow, Ced. Aren’t you going to miss Andruain?”
Cedrick smiled to his best friend. “I miss my family more.”
“Not me,” Jamie said, sniffing.
He looked so much like Cedrick, the two had been mistaken for brothers more than once since starting their training together. Both had blonde hair and stood over six feet, and when they were dressed in uniform, they were hard to tell apart, except that Jamie occasionally sported a short beard, mostly when he got lazy or his blade ran dull. Cedrick was always clean-shaved, no matter how much of his allowance it took to keep a sharp blade in his bedside chest.
As another cadet dismounted in the courtyard, Jamie pulled off his gloves and untied the cuffs of his shirt, for comfort. “I pray daily that they ask me to take the oath.”
“Think it’s done any good?” asked Gareth, a lanky youth with sandy brown hair hanging over his shoulders. “Competition’s fierce this year.” He patted his mount’s neck and handed away his reins.
“Have you ever known me to back down from a challenge?” Jamie asked, flexing his bicep for show.
Gareth shrugged. “Not really. Guess you find out today whether your prayers have paid off.”
The sons of rich nobles, Jamie and Gareth aspired to knighthood to bolster their families’ names. Cedrick knew he had no chance. The son of a soldier, it had been no small feat for his parents to send him to an esteemed academy. He dusted his uniform, trying to appear unconcerned. “I’ve been praying for Jamie too.”
“Well that’s it then, isn’t it?” Gareth asked in mock disgust, yanking his gloves off and folding them with a pronounced slap. “If Cedrick’s been talking to the gods for you, you’re sure to be knighted. He and Llyra are like this.” He crossed his first and middle finger and held the symbol in Jamie’s face.
“I’ve the same small odds as you,” Jamie said, shoving Gareth’s hand away. “And don’t make fun of Ced.”
“I’d never have a go at you,” Gareth said, patting Cedrick’s backside.
“Get off me,” Cedrick growled, shoving Gareth.
Gareth blew a kiss and grinned broadly. When Cedrick audiblized his disgust, the crude jokester finally let go his jest and turned more serious. “Are you two going to compete in this fall’s tournament?”
“My father would never let me,” Jamie said with a laugh. “He’d tell me he’s got too much invested in me to let me die under a horse’s hooves in a tiltyard.”
Gareth smirked. “So it’s not your hide he’s worried about, just that you live long enough to repay his investment...”
“That about sums it up,” Jamie said.
Cedrick sighed and pushed past the other young men. “I don’t know about you two, but I don’t want to miss the king’s speech. See you down there.”
“Good thinking. I wouldn’t want to be late to my own knighting,” Gareth called after Cedrick.
*
Eight young men took a knee before the king that afternoon, and Cedrick’s heart leapt when he heard that James Vawne was one of them. So Jamie’s father would be pleased. Hopefully, he would tell his son he was proud. It was no secret that Jamie longed for his father's approval more than anything.
Cedrick felt a momentary twinge of jealousy before he smiled genuinely for his friend and the other honored men. His father would welcome him back regardless of the condition in which he returned. If only Jamie was so lucky.
After the ceremony, there was a grand feast. The hall staff furnished a fine spread, and wines and ales to satisfy both the cadets and the soldiers who trained them. Veterans and green soldiers dined next to each other, enjoying the bounty paid for by the crown to honor them. Laughter filled the mess hall.
Cedrick greedily filled up two trenchers for himself and brought them back to the sideboard where Jamie sat with some of the other young men that graduated that day.
“Cedrick,” Alfred called, pulling out a chair. “Jamie says you are leaving tomorrow. Will you miss us?”
“Not likely.” Cedrick laughed, taking the seat.
“Oho,” said Magnis, one of the few foreigners other than Cedrick at the academy. “Cerodrac is flying home, is he?” Magnis always referred to Cedrick by the nickname he invented. It meant “little dragon” or something similar in his language.
“I say the sooner, the better,” Jamie teased. “Before he has a chance to finish writing his knightly rulebook and the king gets a glance at it. Gods know I could never live by such standards.” He fingered the gold lion brooch on his shoulder, symbol of Andruain—the king’s charge, front and center on his royal arms.
Cedrick playfully punched his friend, beside him. “It’s not a list of rules, it’s a code of honor.” He wasn’t upset at Jamie’s jibes, but happy for his friend who was enjoying his new status.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jamie said, rubbing his sore shoulder. “All I want to know is why it’s dishonorable to have a pint with my mates.”
“It clouds your judgment,” Cedrick said.
“Aye,” Jamie said, raising his mug to his lips. “That’s the point.”
“But, a pure soul is disciplined and calm. Drinking can lead to very poor decisions.”
“True enough,” Louden said, setting his own mug down, “but an occasional lapse in judgment isn’t exactly the end of the world, is it?”
Cedrick wasn’t usually one to speak with his mouth full of food, but Louden’s comment demanded an immediate retort. “When one acts in a depraved manner, he must repent!”
Jamie laughed. “Oh, so now I’m depraved, am I?”
“Jamie,” Magnis said in a warning tone. “Cerodrac just believes in a code of conduct...”
“That doesn’t include ale?” Louden gasped melodramatically.
“Or women,” Jamie chimed in.
Alfred snickered. “Gods, what’s next to go, food? Air?”
“Leave him alone,” said Gareth. “I think swearing off women is the best idea I’ve heard him come up with. They only break your heart.” He took a long drink. “That’s why the gods made beer, though, Ced. To heal men’s hearts again.”
The lads agreed with Gareth, toasting their support and clanking their mugs back onto the wooden plank.
“Why are you swearing off life’s pleasures anyway, Cedrick? Louden asked.
“Holy knights should be pure of mind, body and soul, like the paladins of old.”
“The paladins?” Jamie asked. “But they are idealized in legends, Ced. If you think those men never had a beer or a woman...”
“There’s nothing wrong with a drink if you don’t overdo it,” Gareth interrupted.
“Nor loving a woman,” Magnis said in agreement. “In fact, what could be more natural than that? It’s as spiritual a thing as any.”
Alfred smiled smugly. “I know a girl that would change your mind. She’s done some pretty unnatural things to me.”
“I’ll bet,” Gareth said, rolling his eyes. “No thanks, I’ll take a virtuous woman if it’s all the same to you. The kind of women you keep for company aren’t the sort I’d touch with Magnis’ hands and you lot cheering me on from the benches!”
“Why’s it got to be my hands?”
“I’d rather have a loving woman than a virgin.” Jamie shrugged, peering deep into his dark mug. “But, it looks like my father will decide that for me as well.”
Cedrick gasped. “You would wed an unchaste woman?”
“I’m just saying that I’d prefer a real girl to one who’s been locked away by her parents and sold to the highest bidder, like a heifer at auction.”
“I’ll have a pure woman for my wife,” Cedrick said. “Then there can be no question of her loyalty and obedience. Until then, I’d just as soon keep my honor intact and my mind on more important things.”
Gareth laughed. “Obedience? Ha!”
“I agree with Jamie,” Magnis said. “The sum of a woman is a difficult thing to judge. In my country, we praise women that are strong and educated, not meek and sheltered.”
Cedrick’s patience began to wear. “I grew up in a temple, I think I know a thing or two about judging a person’s virtue.”
“Okay,” Gareth said, raising his voice to be heard over the noise of the room. “Let’s agree to disagree, lads. We’re all friends here, aren’t we? Whether we prefer common sluts, buxom widows, scholars, or priestesses,” he looked around the table at the other guys respectively, “there are fish in the sea for all of us.”
“Hey, what about me?” Louden asked. “You skipped me.”
“No female in her right mind would have you, Louden,” Gareth said with a smug smile. “I’ll tell ye that for nothing.”
The other young men laughed, raising their tankards. Having put the matter to rest, the feasting and drinking continued well into the shortest night of the year.
“Each of us is going someplace different,” Magnis said, standing. “But a pact let us make this day, lads, to be friends for eternity. Have you some words of wisdom for us to set out with, Cerodrac?” There’s no need to show the knighting, unless he does it to support his friend. But the friend has no bearing on the story. Maybe show Cedrick being razzed by one of the boys and them Jamie steps up and says, “You’re staying until tomorrow, right?
Cedrick stood, not entirely prepared to speak words of motivation, but willing to try for his friends.
“March on when dawn is come, soldiers of the lion’s son.
Let every heart we touch recall the honor fraught within us all,
For each of us are loyal true, to the king and Liltha too
And as we leave this sacred place, remember each and every face
Of our brothers and our friends, and pray our paths will cross again.”
Mugs and palms pounded on the planks, and those youths nearest Cedrick clapped him on the back. When at last the festivities wound down, Cedrick and the other young men made their way for the barracks. Their parting was heartfelt, but an inevitable end to the bonds they’d formed in three years.
Sleep eluded Cedrick that night, as his thoughts turned to home. His mother surely led the vigil in Rheinguard, preparing for their knighting ceremony, held the morning after the solstice.
After living within the temple’s walls for a few months, and learning about a knight’s duties to the clergy, the candidates were bathed by temple priestesses in consecrated water and dressed in white robes. They were given candles and shown to empty cells, where they kept silent vigil all night.
At dawn, a priestess would fetch each one of the candidates and read him a passage from the holy scriptures. The high priest would take the candidates’ confessions and cleanse their souls.
King Darsten would speak, and the candidates, still in their white robes, would kneel and pledge their loyalty to the king and his people. They would receive a white sash bearing a pin—a silver mountain aster on a red crown, the symbol of Rheinguard’s knights. Cedrick placed his right hand over his heart, where he hoped his own silver aster pin would one day proudly sit.
As dawn broke, Cedrick made his way to the stable, his saddlebags already packed with his meager possessions. The road home would be a long one and without camping gear, he’d have to follow the roads through the hamlets and villages of the southern territories. A mixed blessing. He abhorred cooking for himself and just thinking about the awful dried rations available in goods stores turned his stomach. He had a few coins left after settling his accounts and was happy enough to spend them on the comfort inn rooms would provide.
“Come on, boy,” Cedrick said, patting his mountain horse’s white neck. “I’ll walk you as far as the gate, but then it’s time to get moving. No more endless grasslands for you, it’s back up to the highlands. You’ll be munching expensive oats and Natalia’s garden greens in a fortnight.”
A fortnight, Cedrick thought, sighing, he’d be hard-pressed to cover the distance in that short a time, even in summer. One good rainstorm and the muddy roads would slow him for days. “Better get going, then,” he muttered to his faithful companion. “The road’s not getting any shorter with us standing here talking about it.”
*
Almost a full day behind schedule, Cedrick led Maurice by his reins into Toneii, a quaint little town full of tradesmen and farmers. Cedrick kicked his dusty boots against the cobblestones surrounding the town center outside a small, weather-beaten chapel. An advantageous location, Cedrick thought. The wells outside the church’s walls were teeming with gossiping washerwomen and a group of hunters watering their horses and dogs. Cedrick stopped for Maurice to have a drink from a wooden trough.
“Move your pony out of the way, boy,” said one of the dark-clad hunters.
Cedrick hadn’t realized the hunter was addressing him until the stranger grabbed the shoulder of Cedrick’s shirt and said again, “I told you to move your pony out of the way and let Lord Harrington’s horses drink first.”
Startled by the bold stranger’s rudeness, Cedrick grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled his shirt free. “I’ll only warn you once to take your hands off me. I might be young, but I’m no boy. I’m a trained soldier and don’t tolerate any man’s hands on me.”
The hunter scowled but stepped back. Through clenched teeth he growled, “Lord Harrington’s horses drink first.”
Cedrick whistled, two quick even notes, and Maurice’s head snapped up. “Come on, boy,” he said, eyes still on the hunter’s. “Seems we must wait our turn.”
As Cedrick walked, Maurice followed, stopping when Cedrick took a seat on a stone wall outside the churchyard.
The dozen hunters talked low while their horses and dogs drank. One feisty mare almost caught a hound with a well-timed kick, and after, even the dogs kept their distance.
“They’re always like that,” a girl said, setting her wash basket on the ground next to Cedrick.
“Excuse me?”
“Edward and his crew,” she said, nodding to the hunters. “They’re always rude, thinking themselves terribly important men, when all they are is a pack of mangy dogs.”
Cedrick didn’t know what to say. He didn’t particularly care for the hunter’s manners, but as an outsider, was happy enough to follow local etiquette, so long as he wasn’t accosted in the process. “It’s alright, Maurice can wait, can’t you, boy?”
Maurice nodded his head in a greatly exaggerated way, tossing his white mane.
The girl giggled and clasped her hands together. “How can he understand?” Her blue eyes studied Maurice.
Cedrick stroked the velvety, gray muzzle. “This town’s pretty, do you think it’s nicer than Rheinguard, boy?”
Maurice didn’t move.
“Well, maybe not,” Cedrick said. “But the girls are prettier, aren’t they, boy?”
His great white head tossed and nodded.
The girl squealed in delight and clapped her hands. “How did you make him do that?”
Cedrick winked. “My secret.”
Her shoulders sagged, but she smiled anyway. “You mentioned Rheinguard, is that where you’re from?”
“Born and raised,” Cedrick said, pride swelling his chest. “I’m on my way home from my schooling in Andruain.”
She crouched to pick up her basket. “I’d better get home, my mother is waiting for the washing.” She put her basket on one hip and patted the horse’s muzzle. “Bye, Maurice, thanks for the laugh.” Then, she gently grabbed Cedrick’s elbow, letting her hand slide down his forearm until she held his hand. “Best wishes, and safe travels.”
“Thanks,” Cedrick muttered, his stomach fluttering from her touch. He watched her go and then took his seat on the wall again, forgetting Maurice’s thirst even after the hunters had cleared out.
“I guess we better find a room for tonight,” Cedrick said, taking Maurice’s reins. He stood and looked east and then south, down both main roads in the small village. He’d passed only one inn, and there didn’t appear to be abundant lodging. Cedrick fingered his few coins in his pocket, and then pulled Maurice around to the north, through the chapel gates. “It isn’t dishonest if we really are in need of lodging,” he said. “Then it’s just begging.” He smiled and patted Maurice’s neck.
After he’d tethered Maurice outside, Cedrick entered the chapel. A man in a bleached linen cassock welcomed Cedrick in, and anointed his forehead with lavender oil. “This is an open altar,” the man said. “Evening ceremony is in two hours, dedicated to Llyra, if you wish to join us.”
Cedrick swept aside his cloak to reveal his silver talisman. “Good brother, I’m a traveler from Rheinguard, and seek a bed for the night and perhaps a meal. Would you help me on my way home?”
The priest set his hand on Cedrick’s shoulder. “Of course, my brother. Share in what we have, and rest well here.”
“Thank you,” Cedrick said. “May I put my horse in your stable?”
*
Cedrick was just about to join the priest, Brother Harris, and his assistants, Brother Tomas and Alisha, for supper, when the front doors of the chapel opened. Brother Harris excused himself, and the other two respectfully waited to serve themselves.
Cedrick’s stomach growled.
Alisha smiled and said, “We don’t get many visitors here, I’m sure he’ll return shortly. Probably just someone collecting bread for the poor.”
Hunching in his chair in a vain attempt to silence his empty stomach, Cedrick smiled back to her. The smells of the dishes taunted his nose, and he grabbed his mug and gulped water greedily.
“Alisha!” Brother Harris shouted from the other room. “Bring your healing bag!”
Desperation. The tone was unmistakable. Cedrick stood from the table and dashed to aid Harris.
When he entered the altar room, the scene stopped Cedrick in his tracks. So much for a peaceful night’s rest in a free bed.
