Michael Spradlin - Keeper of the Grail

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 left hand only, moving it into a blocking position.

Sir Hugh’s sword whistled down, hitting mine with a loud crack. Because I fought one-handed, I couldn’t completely stop it. His blow landed on my right shoulder with a horrible crunching sound.

This time I screamed out loud. I thought my shoulder was surely broken. Dropping the sword from my hand I looked in shock at my right arm, now useless at my side. Tears stung my eyes, but I did everything I could to force them back, not wanting to give Sir Hugh the satisfaction.

“That was terrible. Simply awful! You have no talent at this whatsoever,” Sir Hugh said. “These are only practice weapons and you can’t even get that right. What are you going to do if you are attacked by someone with a real weapon?”

To my horror, Sir Hugh dropped the wooden practice weapon in the dirt. I watched in disbelief as he drew his battle sword from the sheath at his belt and began swinging it back and forth in the air before me.

“This isn’t a game, boy. This is war. We are going to fight. What will you do when it is no longer practice? What will you do when it’s real?”

Circling around me he swung the sword back and forth, each time bringing it closer to my face. I glanced quickly about. The squires watched on in silence. Sergeanto LeMaire looked stricken, but being far outranked by Sir Hugh, he couldn’t do much.

“Sir Hugh…,” he pleaded.

“Quiet, sergeanto!” Sir Hugh snapped.

Raising the sword high, he came at me. I saw it begin its downward arc, and there was nothing I could do but jump quickly to the side. The weapon cut through the air right where I had been standing moments before.

He moved back around me in a half circle, raising the sword again. When his hands started downward, I moved to the side, stumbling over the sword that I’d dropped. This time I fell to the ground on my knees. Sir Hugh’s sword swung down again where I had just been crouched before him.

As Sir Hugh completed the swing, he stepped forward to follow through. As he brought the sword up and around again, I saw my only chance.

With my left hand, I grabbed the fallen practice sword. As he stepped past me, I quickly thrust it between his legs at the ankles. It worked perfectly. He tripped on the wooden blade and fell headfirst into the dirt. He let out a shout of surprise and his tunic flew up, covering his head and shoulders.

I quickly scampered to my feet while Sir Hugh shouted and cursed. He jumped to his feet, his face turning crimson and his eyes throwing fire in my direction. I couldn’t help but smile, which made his face go from crimson to purple.

The brothers at St. Alban’s had always taught me to turn the other cheek. I should have remembered my station. He was the Marshal and should have been treated with the respect of his office. But I couldn’t help myself. I had done nothing to this man to deserve this treatment.

“Perhaps I am not the weakest link after all, Sir Hugh,” I said. This brought a nervous laugh from the other squires. Even Sergeanto LeMaire snickered behind his hand.

“You think you are funny? You think this is a game? I have had enough of you and your insolent…” He stopped talking and raised the sword again. I crouched and prepared to dodge.

As Sir Hugh lifted the weapon above his head, a very large hand came from behind him and quickly tore the sword from his grip. It was Sir Basil. Then Sir Hugh went stumbling forward, tripping over the wooden sword and again flopping into the dirt.

The next thing I knew, Sir Thomas was there, kneeling beside him. Sir Hugh rolled over and started to get to his feet, but Sir Thomas placed a hand on his chest and held him in place. Sir Basil stood a few feet away, twirling the sword in his giant hands. It looked like a toy in his grip.

“What is the meaning of this? Remove your hand!” Sir Hugh said.

Sir Thomas spoke in a low voice. So low that Sir Hugh, Sir Basil, Quincy and I were the only ones to hear him.

“Know this,” he said, the rage in his tone barely contained. “I will never see anything like this again. Am I clear? You will not come near my squire under any circumstances. If you do, if anything happens to him, if he is injured in any way and I find out you are the cause of it, I will strike you down myself. You will not harm this boy. Nod to show that you understand me.”

Sir Hugh’s face was as cold as stone and his eyes were full of poison. He looked at me and then at Sir Thomas and hissed, “You’re a fool. I know, Sir Thomas. Don’t think I don’t. We both know who he is. You think you can protect him? Ha. I hardly think so.”

Sir Thomas cocked his head, his eyes boring into Sir Hugh for the briefest of moments. I felt my stomach clench, momentarily forgetting the pain in my arm and shoulder, and suddenly found it difficult to breathe. What did Sir Hugh mean? He knew something about my past?

“You know nothing, Sir Hugh. Nothing at all. And let me be clear: this boy is now under my protection. I’m watching, Sir Hugh. My men are watching. If anything happens to him, you’ll be the first one I find.” Sir Thomas’ hand grasped hold of Sir Hugh’s tunic and he pulled him just inches from his face. “Do you understand me?”