laneys.info Beware of Yankees, drunks, and loose women.

Once the great hall was cleaned from the evening supper, Alexander headed to his dormitory room. Walking upstairs, he entered the long, stone enclosed hall. To his left, two long rows of beds lined the walls with trunks at the foot of each which he headed to his own on the far left. Near the back corner where Dominic sat reading on the blanketed cot beyond, the light of a candle that stood on the small table between glowed brightly.

"How far have you gotten," Alexander interrupted as he plopped onto his own, lumpy mattress covered by a dark green, thick blanket and pillow.

"The armies of Valois just embarked on their voyage to face the merchant fleet."

Alexander smiled. "Oh, yes." Blue eyes glanced to the large hearth that centered the back wall and faced the open walkway between their the flanking wood framed cots as he recalled the large caravels sailing from the choked port, carrying the present king's grandfather. As others studied and read their assignments, he turned to notice Nicholas walk in, his nose finally healed as he carried his bag towards his own bed and set it on the brown, wooden trunk. He rose and headed to his friend several bunks down.

"How are you feeling," he asked as Nicholas sat down.

"Fine. Father Edmund healed it for me," he pointed to the faint scar that ran across his pudgy, tanned nose. "He said I'll survive," laughing, he glanced away momentarily.

Alexander smiled. "I'm glad."

"I heard it from the other end, that had to have hurt," Amayis looked over his book as he lay on his back.

"It wasn't that loud," Nicholas corrected.

"Alexander," a mature male voice called from the doorway, gaining everyone's attention in the long bay.

He turned to notice Drystan, the older smith's striking brown eyes. "The bishop needs to see you right away. He's in his study."

"Yes, sir." he quickly moved to join the veteran stablehand and head downstairs. Nervously, he parted company in the main hallway that joined the classrooms with the stables and made his way through the kitchen, great hall and into the large, shelf filled room that only the older and more distinguished of them got to visit. Quietly, he pushed the large, oaken door closed and entered the high ceilinged room as tall, bullet shaped windows allowed evening light to stream in and cast orange hues onto tall banks of books, tables and chairs as well as a group of priests sitting around the hearth discussing some major event. His eyes soon turned to the right and noticed Father Gaiven sitting alone on a couch, goblet of wine in his hand and resting on the arm of the blue, embroidered seat.

He made his way to stand before the priest. "You wished to see me, milord."

"Yes," the elder priest turned, placed the goblet on the wide, squat table beside him, then move to a small pouch on his lap and hand it to him. "This is from your mother. She wanted you to have it."

His heart leapt. He had prayed to finally know anyone from the home that he had been born in, but no one would divulge who that was. Tanned, strong fingers pulled at the leather thong and opened the pouch to reveal a silver necklace. He pulled it out and quickly noticed the silver pendant in the shape of a tree that had within the trunk, a small ruby that resembled a rose. Blue eyes rose to the priest. "Did she say anything?"

"Only that she wishes you the best of everything and that her heart and prayers are with you always."

He tried not to cry as he swallowed hard, then returned the gift to the pouch and retied it. Once done, he handed it back to the bishop.

"No. You keep it. I know the tradition is to not possess wealth but, this is a special case and Arhus won't hold it against you. I'm sure of that. Put it away for now and keep it safe."

"Yes, sir." He quietly placed the pouch into his jacket pocket and then looked back to the priest. There were so many questions.

Smiling, Gaiven motioned to the door. "Get some rest, my son."

Bowing, Alexander moved to leave, then turned back. "Is she alright?"

"She's safe," he nodded. "Fear not, the gods have protected her for many years and I believe that her dedication to them will keep their favor. Never allow your fears to govern your heart, young Alexander. Perhaps, once your training is complete and you're out serving Arhus, he'll lead you to her."

Alexander nodded, then continued on back to his room as he quietly wondered who she was, where she was and why they had been parted in the first place.

* * *

As he lay in the darkened room, listening to the crackling from the hearth that warmed the nearer sleeping boys that night, Alexander soon heard the trumpet blare out an alarm. Sitting up, he listened as muffled commotion soon arrived to their dorm room. Sir Donegil, torch in hand opened the door and moved to the center of the aisle.

"Boys, get up! The city's being attacked, get your things and dress, then meet me in the main courtyard out front. Let's go!"

Alexander leaped to his feet, heart pumping as he pulled on his pants and boots, wondering who or what the danger was. He moved to his trunk and pushed the large door up and back, reached in and grabbed his soft leather breastplate and quickly strapped it on, then grabbed his greaves then slammed the door closed as he sat on the roof of the large container and latched the protective leather pieces onto his shins and forearms.

"What's going on," Dominic asked apprehensively as Alexander rose to exit with the others.

"No idea."

Down the stairs they moved and then filed out into the brisk, evening air as templar and other men-at-arms gathered in the busy courtyard. They quickly moved to their assembly point and noticed Sir Donegil speaking with Sir Stephen, bow and stride towards them, his polished armor and helmet shining in the torchlight.

"Alright," his eyes gazed down their ranks. "We've been tasked to assist the priests with whatever they need while they're healing the wounded that will be arriving soon. Alexander, I want you to pick four others and begin drawing water and take the buckets into the hospital. Move."

"Sir." Alexander quickly grabbed Dominic, Nicholas and Amayis, then ran towards the well. As they arrived, he dropped the bucket into the deep abyss and began winding the winch as he turned to the trio, eyeing the commotion around them as mounted paladins and templar sped towards the main gate. "Hey, start grabbing more buckets and bring them from the stables," he directed, prompting them into action.
Soon, he filled their buckets as Amayis carried the first two into the main sanctuary. "Bring more from the kitchens on your return."

"Alright."

As the morning sun rose in the east, he noticed smoke rising from the west and south as they continued filling buckets when Nicholas tapped him on the shoulder and motioned to the main gate. Alexander turned to notice the first of the wagons filled with screaming and crying men. He couldn't see their faces but could imagine their pain that echoed within the courtyard as the drivers reined the large draft horses and stopped the weathered carts. Priests moved along with others to the backs of each and started carrying the wounded out and into the church. Some with severed arms, gashes to the torso or face, and blood soaked clothing made all four boys freeze.

Their day was full of sporadic visits from wagons which soon slowed as they finally got a rest from the well that Alexander was sure was nearly empty. All four sat on barrels in the stable as they ate near Drystan.

"Is it over," Nicholas asked as they looked to the thickly built smith.

"Hopefully. But battles don't end with the final blows of hammer or sword, young friends. They go on in the memories of those who fought and survived for years to come."

"I read that same thing from Sir Lucan's book," Alexander informed.

Drystan huffed as his eyes sank to the last of his bread. "Nothing is truly learned until you see it firsthand. These things they can't teach you from books."

Knowing that the mentor that sat with them had seen many battles himself, they didn't pry. Crunching footsteps approached from the far door as Sir Donegil motioned to the boys. "Time to start digging boys. Grab your shovels and meet me in the cemetery."

"Yes, sir," Alexander rose with the others and they moved to the tools hanging on the wall near the smithy. Drystan handed each of them a shovel and took one himself, then walked with them to the opposite side of the cathedral where more of their school had already started.

Once done, the sun sank behind the thinning plumes of smoke that rose in the distance as they all stood quietly eyeing the filled plots before them and Alexander finally tempered his desires for war and glory. Looking down onto the covered body, his eyes soon scanned to the knights, priests and others who also stood along the long line of burials and he noticed Sir Stephen and two of the others that he had assisted the previous day. Then, he realized that two were missing and his heart melted as the flash of the lieutenant handing him his backpack before he left for the kitchens resurfaced. Tired, they listened to the service as the bishop quoted scripture and prayed over those lost in the defense of the city. Afterwards, they filled in the holes and finally got a chance for a bath.

He climbed tiredly up the stairs and headed to the trunk and dropped his armor and greaves into it, let it drop shut and moved over to the side of the bed where he dropped onto the straw filled mattress, face down. Within moments, he fell asleep.