476 CE, Summer
Life in Rome was different from life in the wilderness of Aldrich's home. Every morning, Gilbert busied himself with the early chores of Sanctius' household after a morning prayer to the new Christian God. A teacher by the name of Father Felix taught him of the practices of the church along with fighting skills to train him into a soldier for whatever reason Sanctius wanted. He had learned early not to question the man's motives.
His mentor, Papa Felix, did not look like much with his white beard and hair. One could almost mistake him for a jovial grandfather, with his rosy cheeks and twinkling blue eyes. However, as Gilbert learned, it was not the case. Felix had served in the army before embracing the holy life. Though he did not fight anymore, he still retained his prowess with weapons.
Gilbert stepped out of the small church after Felix once their daybreak prayers were done. The sun had only begun to peek over the horizon, casting a yellow glow in the darkness of the Mediterranean morning. It was not hot yet and the young German was glad that he had long discarded the heavy wear of the northern tribes. The light Roman tunics and togas were more suited to the temperate climates, especially in the summer.
"Today, I want you to show me your archery," Felix announced as they made their ways to the barracks. Already, the city of Rome was stirring as merchants began setting up their stalls to set their goods. Although he had lived in the city for a few good moons, Gilbert found his eyes wandering over the vibrant array of objects that were offered from all the corners of the dying Empire.
Felix's sharp word caused his attention to turn back to the older man. "I have heard that you are adept at archery," he continued.
"Grandfather made me practice every day. There was a captured Hun who taught me the craft," Gilbert answered proudly. The young teen was eager to show off his skills and excitement brimmed at his voice. Having been too young to wield a full-length sword, Aldrich had decided to give him a bow instead to practice with. Eventually, he outgrew the small bow but he still continued practicing with newer ones.
The teacher smiled, his blue eyes smiling at the younger man. "We shall see about that," Felix nodded.
At the barracks, the soldiers were already up and awake, tending to their daily tasks. Gilbert found himself hugging Felix's trail, not wanting to be lost among the large, armored men that swarmed around them. Already, he had been given a few cuffs and knocks from getting in their ways, though he had made no complaint against them.
They arrived at the archery range when the soldiers were just beginning to practice. Felix gestured to a rack of bows, allowing Gilbert to have a pick at the offerings there. The German inspected the composite bows curiously, eventually selecting one with recurved tips and most resembling the Central Asian bows he had grown used to.
A couple of the soldiers guffawed at seeing the slight figure of Gilbert test the bow string, the hard muscles underneath his shoulders and chest growing taut as he drew his right hand back. It was a good bow, but not equal to the one he had kept since the night when his grandfather died. Having done the preliminaries, he took an arrow and drew it against the tough string with his thumb in Hunnic style until the feathers of the flight kissed his cheeks while he inhaled. The soldiers had grown quiet watching him, he noted as he focused on the target. With an exhale, he sent the arrow cleanly through the center of the target, the string of the instrument producing an audible slap as it came in contact with the wood of the bow. With that, he turned to Felix.
"Good," the man answered simply. Though he did not show it, he was rather surprised by Gilbert's skill. "We would not need to practice that then. Let us sharpen your swordsmanship."
For the moment, he was exultant and wanted to show off further but the mention of sword practice deflated him. Felix seemed to be an expert in that area and always managed to defeat him, no matter how much he tried.
"Yes, master," Gilbert reluctantly agreed.
"Why that tone?" Felix questioned, his critical blue gaze on him.
He looked up and shrugged. Gilbert knew the reason of his reluctance, but he wasn't willing to voice it in fear of Felix's rebuke.
"You will become stronger, Gilbert," Felix explained, resting his calloused hands on the German's shoulders. "Perhaps strong enough to take back your brothers."
The mention of his family sent a surge of energy through him. Gilbert nodded, feeling ready to do anything the old man asked.
Historical Note: The Huns were indeed adept horsemen as well as great archers, nearly destroying the Roman Empire. Some speculate that the legend of the centaur started with steppe nomads or perhaps their ancestors. They did use recurved composite bows and could shoot targets accurately and quickly from a racing horse. Because the Mongolians used the thumb-draw for their bow, I had the Huns use it as well, because they were most likely closely related tribes, separated by time.