The sun was near its peak when the last horn of the second blew. Father destroyed Ser Rafiq with a five to a two. Uncle Mark did well too; snatching a victory from Lestrad at the last lance. Ser Marcella practically toyed with Ser Renoux, leaving the score of four to nil and a smashed barrier. de Aquilos still rode but not for long – his next opponent was Ser Shahzad Malik’.
The Knight-Commander called for a recess, to give the engineers time and space to repair and prepare the lanes for the next round. The knights took this opportunity for a breather; removing helmet and visor to suck in a mouthful of fresh air and drink if they wished. Artos and Aran attended father, loosening his armour and wiping the sweat off his brow. Aeda was tasked with Chestnut, brushing her hair and getting her a drink.
By the keep away from the gatehouse was a well, squared with expertly carved stone. Aeda reached over for the winch and frowned – it was broken. Nothing too complicated of a fix but she they had no time for repairs. She snuck in a peek and shuddered, the sight of her reflection so far away and so dark sent shivers up her spine. She sighed as she tied one end of a rope on the bucket and tossed it down with a deep splash. She then threw the other end over the shaft and braced her legs against the well.
She pulled, using the strength arms and shoulders alone.
The bellows are harder than this!
She pulled again; the very stone seemingly creaked.
Please hold. Please hold.
She pulled one more time – the bucket was hanging in the air.
Aeda tied the rope to a post and fished for the bucket.
‘Bastardborn!’ a voice called out, making her jump.
Cack!
Aeda spun and scowled. A company of squires- no, noble squires, each as colourful as their knights approached. The lead was a comely boy who wore a white surcoat bearing a soaring golden eagle – Cedric de Aquilos. He had a terrible smile on his face.
‘This here is Martellus’ squire?’ said the squire in the raiment of maroon and yellow stripes. ‘This one dresses like a peasant!’
‘Bitter Almeric?’ said another, this one in a chequered surcoat. ‘Your father missed that last lance by a field wide,’ he continued, stifling a laugh. ‘The Spear of Gallows indeed!’
‘Keep your mouth shut,’ Almeric said. ‘And Cedric, you dare lie to us? You had me worried saying that I might have to tilt against a lady but this…’ He pointed at Aeda. ‘This is no lady – not even a girl but clearly a boy! Large as an auroch that one.’
Aeda felt her cheeks turn red.
‘I’m not a boy; I am a girl-a woman grown!’ Aeda said to their laughter. Her cheeks burned redder. ‘And you lot have no right to speak of me as if I were dead or deaf or up in Skyrim!’
‘That may be so,’ Cedric said. ‘But as my father said and as his father and his father before him: someone has to put you bastardborns in your place.’ He spat. ‘You southerners are no knights – only fools who think a stick and stot that will make you one. Knighthood is a way of life, a code of honour and chivalry that you barbarians would do well learning from your betters.’
On that Aeda half-agreed; Knighthood is more than fighting and more than ‘chivalry’ as these snail-eaters called it. Aeda felt a spark in her forge – she was more than happy to show these squires what she thought of their ‘chivalry’ but she quickly quenched that ember.
‘Excuse me,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘I have business to attend to.’
‘Picking flowers?’ said the pockmarked squire. ‘Embroider?’
Aeda had to stop herself from showing a frown. If only I could…
Aeda tried to shove her way past the squire and as she did, one of them held his foot, nearly tripping her. She found her footing, not unlike father’s lessons but the bucket splashed her face and tunic.
She wanted to say something but held her tongue and left with their sneers and laughter behind her.
Won’t be laughing when I give you a good thrashing! Bloody snail-eaters!
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