A King's Knight

I've been writing again, as my blog has probably attested to ;) But I'm also enjoying a little bit of fantasy that fits the time period that God meant to place me in (He was debating between Elizabethan/Victorian, The Romantic era, The days of Arthur, or 238 years from now...so He compromised and here I am!) Anyway I felt like posting chapter one. Chapter two is still a mess though...



Chapter One - A Squire's Lesson


Peter faced his opponent. Peter was 19, less than two years from knighthood. Dark eyebrows rested above his intense brown eyes. His armor was worn from work and travel. A sword with a sapphire hilt was sheathed at his belt, and a buckskin tube protected his birch bow from basic harms. Neither he nor his adversary moved as they waited for the other to strike first. Peter inspected their surroundings for anything that might give him and advantage. They were standing in a lush glade within Areva Forest, it was late afternoon already. But he already knew where he was, what he needed was a distraction. A stick near his feet caught his attention. Peter swooped down, grabbed the stick, and hurled it at the knight facing him. However, the knight easily sidestepped the piece of wood. The knight rushed forward swinging his sword. Peter ducked just as the blade whistled over his head. He growled and tackled the knight ferociously.

They pitched to the ground, each struggling to stay on top. Peter rolled to the side and swept his sword over the ground at his opponent’s shins. The knight parried the blow with the hilt of his sword, and then jumped to his feet. Twisting as he stood, Peter attacked again, guiding his blade through a complex pattern. Sparks danced from their blades as they struck again and again. The knight blocked each blow, his face tight with concentration. But Peter knew that he must be tiring. The relentless hammering continued as each sought an opening in the other’s defenses.

Then Peter felt the battle change. Blow by blow the knight gained the advantage; Peter’s parries slowed and he lost ground. His opponent easily blocked a stab from Peter. Veins pulsed on Peter’s forehead and cords bulged from his neck from the effort. Suddenly, with confidence, the knight swung his blade faster than ever, weaving a web of steel around Peter’s sword. With a burst of speed, his opponent smashed the flat of his blade against Peter’s guard and knocked the sword to the ground. Before Peter could react, the knight flicked his blade up to Peter’s throat. They stood panting, the gleaming sword tip resting on Peter’s collarbone. The knight slowly lowered his arm and backed away. Peter picked up his sword and sheathed it. Still breathing hard, the knight said, “We’re done for today.” “But we just started,” said Peter, quite irritated.

Peter’s adversary laughed. He walked over and proceeded to help Peter up to his feet. Not bothering to keep the frustration out of his voice, peter griped: “Why do I even bother Sir Charles? I’ll never be a true knight like you.” Sir Charles turned and looked Peter over, “You have a lot left to learn if you think that losing a fight is what determines knighthood. Haven’t I trained you better than that my lad?” Peter knew better. He just wasn’t in the mood to say so. However, it didn’t seem he’d have a choice. After all, it seemed Sir Charles was standing patiently awaiting a reply.

Peter quoted almost verbatim what he’d been taught as a squire, “A knight is loyal in both his actions and word, and serves everyone as best he may. He seeks the fellowship of the righteous; and listens to their words and remembers them. He is humble and courteous wherever he goes, not boasting or talking overmuch. It is his solemn duty to see to it that no lady is in reproach through fault of his own, remembering that her life is more valuable than his own, regardless of her lineage or background. If he falls into company where men speak with disrespect of any woman, he shows with grace that he will not be a part of such a crowd and then departs. The office of a knight is to promote faith in our Lord and King and to protect those who seek him and follow his will. Lastly, a knight never falters in the face of defeat, he stands for truth and honor…even if he stands alone.”

Sir Charles nodded gravely, but the sparkle in his eyes told Peter that there was something else that his master wanted him to say. “What have I forgotten my Lord?” He asked. The knight chuckled, “You spoke quite well son, but never forget that the true strength and honor of a knight comes from his belief in the value of even the meekest in our Lord’s kingdom. If we have not love, then we become the same as mere mercenaries. If we have not faith, then our oaths and values are easily broken. If we have not conviction and truth, then we are exactly what many others are coming to see us as already…a legend, not a reality.”

Peter nodded. He started to ask another question, but stopped as his Sir Charles raised his hand signaling silence. He couldn’t hear whatever his master was hearing…until he realized that’s exactly what his master had noticed. The forest glade was no longer filled with the typical noises it typically chorused with. Sweat started to drop down his forehead. He knew that there was little energy left in his body, if the Enemy’s minions were here, he’d be useless in battle. As these thoughts filled his head, he realized that his master seemed as calm as ever. However, before he could try to follow his master’s lead, it happened. Out of the woods walked four of the mostly heavily clad knights he’d ever seen. Their chainmail blinding him as they approached, their ruby hilts reflecting bright crimson, he prepared to fight beside his master. He realized that each bore the marks of veterans, not to mention weapons worthy of much respect. This battle would be over before it had even started. Yet, as these thoughts filled Peter’s head, Sir Charles simply caught Peter’s eyes and shook his head, then turned to the knights and gave them a bow of deep respect. All four knights responded in kind. Peter breathed a sigh of relief. These weren’t the Enemy’s men after all.

As the knights spent hours catching up with each other, Peter realized just how close these men were to each other. He’d gathered from their conversation and introductions that none of them had known each other very long. However, from an outside perspective you would have thought they had been the best of friends all of their lives. He had even ventured to ask Sir Charles why this was, and had received quite an answer, “Peter, these men took the same vows I took. These men serve our Lord and King, the same as you and I. That is why they are my friends. Because in our hearts we know that we each love the same Lord and people that the others love, therefore we love each other. That makes us closer than friends, it makes us brothers.”

Peter just shook his head, “I mean no disrespect my Lord, but our Lord and King gave you his assignment and then abandoned us, and he hasn’t been seen or heard from since. How in the world can an oath and love for him hold anyone together?” Sir Charles looked as if he’d been thrown up against a wall, and for a moment he just turned away. Peter, instantly regretting his rash statement, tried to apologize, “I didn’t mean that master, I’m sorry.” The knight, looking older than normal, turned and responded in a voice that betrayed the pain he felt from his squire’s words, “Peter, you’ve never met our King, never felt the change that he brings about in your heart and life. He’s fierce and proud, yet gentle and humble. He’s a lover, a judge, a savior, a counselor, a healer, a fighter, a provider, but most of all He’s worthy of all that is good. He’s loves his people without condition. And I’d die ten-thousand deaths before believing that he isn’t working for our good, even as I speak. You will not speak, about our King, in such a way…in my presence again. Do you understand me?” Peter nodded, wondering what kind of a king could inspire knights like these, like Sir Charles, regardless of them seeing or knowing what he wanted. “What a king he must be”, thought Peter. Deciding to return to the rest of the group now, Peter headed over to the fire.

As he sat at a slight distance from the group, Peter started thinking over the mistakes he'd made lately. He realized then that he'd learned more from Sir Charles than he'd thought. For example, Sir Charles had always taught him to acknowledge his mistakes in life, both in practice and in life. He would then say, "If you see your faults and learn from them then the Enemy won't be able to use that weakness against you in the future. Peter chuckled to himself, at least Sir Charles hadn't run him through in any of their sparring lessons. He'd been wrong to challenge Sir Charles and the other knights as well...it wasn't his place...and he knew that. "One day I'll be a man like those knights." said Peter. He knew in his heart that the only permanent mistake he could make in his life was to quit trying...and that wasn't going to happen.

It was quite dark now, and Sir Christopher, the most outgoing and charismatic of their four guests, was sharing stories by the fire light, much to the joy and amusement of his audience. He was currently speaking of the coming of the King and of the Enemy’s betrayal. Peter, smiling at the absurdity of such legends, settled into his spot by the fire and slowly let his exhausted body retire for the night, as the stories of purity and sin were shared by the fire side. Not knowing that this would be the last good night of sleep that he would get for many days….