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

The assembled class sat within the choir loft as Father Gaiven strolled in from the main sanctuary the following morning after breakfast.

"Since the ending of battle, we'll be assembling for classes again but, in the afternoons, we'll be grouping by classes to assist the rebuilding in town. Our pages will all stay with Sir Donegil while the squires will be with Father Edmund. Remember, you all represent Arhus, His church and I expect you all to obey your supervisors and fulfill the tasks set before you, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," the echoing reply from both sides of the wooden, stadium-like benches that faced one another.

The veteran priest nodded, "Then attend to your classes".

Alexander headed eagerly to his books as the essay that had been requested was finished within the little free time that they had been given. As he passed Father Edmund's desk, he placed the pages onto the corner and headed to his seat beside Nicholas as the others eyed him suspiciously.

They quieted as the priest walked in and set his books on the desk, then eye the pages awaiting him. He picked them up and began reading, then blue eyes rose, "Alexander, this was postponed due to the fighting. I wasn't expecting anyone to have finished."

"Yes, sir. You stated that it was due on the twentieth, I'm sorry it was late," he stated regretfully.

Father Edmund grinned and shook his head. "Well, the rest of you should turn in yours next week," he stated, then placed the completed assignment into the bottom book. He reached for the hourglass and turned it over, then began his lesson.

Afterwards, they filed out from their dorm into their groups as Alexander and his friends waited for Sir Donegil to arrive.

"Why are you always trying to make the rest of us look bad," Martin accused, glaring at him from his right.

"What are you talking about?"

"Handing in that essay. You trying to be promoted to a squire before your time? That's why you're always hanging around Drystan, getting his favor and being released from kitchen duty."

Alexander's brow furrowed, "I didn't ask to be moved to the stables," he defended. "He asked me to help him out, ask him yourself."

"Alexander," the loud sergeant yelled.

"Sir," the prompt reply.

"Give me fifty. Talking in the ranks."

Martin tried to hold his chuckle as Alexander quickly did his pushups, then jumped up without even breaking a sweat.

"You know, from what I've heard about you, you seem to enjoy that," Donegil's eyes glowered from the strong features. "Unless I've missed my guess. You know the rules while in formation?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then why do you constantly insist on doing otherwise?" he glanced down their ranks. "No one else seems to have a problem with these simple rules."

Alexander had no reply.

"Instead of joining us on our expedition, you're to clean the main sanctuary. Report to Father Gerald, go."

"Sir." Alexander had hoped that this was his opportunity to maybe get that one chance to find his mother in the city, but today wasn't that day. He ran to the front doors and headed inside, closing them behind him, then quickly moved to find the heavyset priest who tended to the furniture and lighting within the cooler confines of the cathedral. After rounding the podium, he noticed the labored breathing from the priest as he leaned over a barrel of candles, then rose to eye the approaching helper.

"Well, I see I won't have to do this alone today," his deep, barotone voice stated as he smiled.

"No, sir. What would you have me do," Alexander offered less than enthusiastically.

"Replace all the candles in the sanctuary, dust the choir loft and seats, then sweep the floor and keep in mind that worshippers come in here to pray, so don't disturb them."

"Yes, sir." As daunting that task would be to accomplish in one day, he would give it his all, he thought as he grabbed a large sack and filled it with candles, then moved to the nearest columns. As he rushed to finish the first chore on the list, he rounded the benches to notice the lady, her maid servant and man-at-arms at the front. He quickly replaced the remaining few and heard a sniff from her. As he glanced, she knelt at the raised portion as her maid servant stood farther back alongside the armed veteran whose leather surcoat vainly covered his chain hauberk and steel greaves. Alexander noticed as the sun shone down in long, broadening columns onto her auburn hair, it cast nearly silk-like highlights and made it seem as a welcome firelight. He also noticed the silk kerchief in her hand that wiped away tears from her soft cheeks. Without thinking, he moved to stand near her side.

"My lady, are you alright?"

Emerald green eyes looked up to him, glistening from tears as she smiled. "No...but thank you," she sniffed, then wiped her nose as her eyes sank to her hands.

He bowed respectfully, then turned to leave her alone.

"How is your training going," she asked, prompting him to turn around.

"Well, madam," he nodded quietly, still wondering what could be hurting her so.

She grinned, "I'm glad. Have you any plans for your future?"

"I hope to serve Arhus as a templar, milady," he straightened.

Nodding, she eyed the bag strapped over his shoulder. "You know...I hope you find all that you wish for." She bit her lip as tears began to stream again.

He stepped towards her, then remembered his place.

"Forgive me, you shouldn't be witness to this," she calmed and buried her face in the kerchief, wiping her face, then placing it into her belt and rose.

He backed away as she eyed the building around them. "You'll care for this church, won't you," she turned to eye him.

"Of course, my lady," he replied quietly.

She smiled again, perfect white teeth gleamed in the noon sunlight that poured into the sanctuary. "I know you will." She stood for a moment, studying him and Alexander wondered if he should return to his work. Shifting her weight to the right, she eyed the floor, then glanced up to his young face. "I've been married to Sir Isaac of Zariva, son of the duke. I'll be living there from now on," she revealed, then turned and walked down the long, central walkway to the front doors, then exited.

Honored that a noble would confide in him such news, he finished his chores to the rear of the loft where he found Father Gerald sleeping behind the sarcophagus of Bishop William. Creeping by the plump priest, he moved back to the barrel as Father Gaiven approached.

"Alexander, what did the lady want with you?"

"Nothing sir, she was upset that she had to move to Zariva, that's all."

He nodded slowly. "That's it?"

"Yes, sir. Nothing else."

Sighing, he glanced at the barrel, "Have you seen Father Gerald?"

Alexander glanced back behind the loft, then grinned as he noted the smile on the bishop's face. "No doubt tired from all the work that you're doing."

Trying to hold back a laugh, the page moved to carry out the next task. His mind soon drifted back to the encounter with the noble and he quietly closed his eyes.

'Arhus, I pray that she finds happiness, even if the marriage is arranged. Help her enjoy the move there and her new home, give her a lighter heart," he smiled and hoped the plea got through, then continued on with his chores as he felt another chill that coursed down his spine that caused goosebumps and nearly brought him to tears. Confused, he pressed on with his sweeping.