Chapter 8: The Lion and the Ox
Svenya
Two days after our encounter with the wolves, the paths leading to Herfirien became rockier and steeper. Though Rian was healing, it was still difficult for him to travel. Sellose and Ser Lion took turns assisting him on the rougher terrain, but it slowed our progress greatly and I suspect that it hurt Rian's pride to have to rely on them constantly. It was easy to see how highly he esteemed them both and he desperately wanted to gain their approval. Perhaps he feared that they would think less of him for his weakness. He never complained but I noticed that his jaw would look tight when they offered, knowing that he needed the help but not wanting to admit it.
When I read excessive tension in him, I would ask him questions about Denerim. I had never been to the capital city myself and it offered a distraction from his injured leg. He would smile and become boyishly animated, "Svenya you should see the market. There are people from all over Ferelden hawking their wares. There is one girl, Liselle, who came from Orlais. She sells flowers and oils that smell amazing."
"Why would you need flowers or oils?" I asked.
"One of the other knights had recommended that I get some oil to rub into my arm," he explained, leaning in slightly conspiratorially for a minute, "I had been training with a particularly exacting instructor in order to improve my swordsmanship. I happened across her stall. She was very helpful and friendly. The oil smelled wonderful, it reminded me of my mother's garden and I would take it out whenever I felt homesick. I used it sparingly so that it would last."
"Were you sweet on her?"
Rian chuckled, "Oh no. Even if I were at one point, her brother would watch me with a less than friendly look on his face. Besides, though she was always polite, I don't think she was impressed with me."
"What else is there?" I asked, trying to picture the city in my mind.
"Well, there is the Chantry and the Birth Rock in the Palace District."
"Birth Rock?"
He nodded, "Yes, the Birth Rock is the monument they erected to Andraste. Many pilgrims who come to the city simply kneel and pray near it. Once a year he Chantry of Denerim holds a special celebration in honor of the calling of Andraste to be the bride of the Maker. They call it the Day of Invocation. Sisters will gather and place bundles of Andraste's Grace around the rock and hold vigil over them, with chanters taking turns intoning the Chant of Light. They are like bees solemnly humming and hovering over these flowers."
"What he is failing to mention is the fact that the smell of the flowers is overpowering in such a large gathering," Ser Sellose piped up, with a wry tone, "They have Templar initiates stand sentinel with the chanters so that there are no riots among the faithful. It is decided by lot. I got chosen two years in a row and had to stand there from sunrise to sundown. By midday you are so dizzy from standing at attention so close to the flowers and the overpowering fragrance that you can start to hallucinate. I don't know how I survived it."
"Strange," I mused, "you were chosen two years in a row by lot? What are the odds?"
"Pretty good when you consider the older initiates used loaded dice," Sellose quipped, "I grew wiser after the second year and the older initiates had moved into the ranks of the full fledged Templars."
My eyebrow skewed slightly at that, "Slightly irreverent for Templars."
"Hey, we were initiates," defended Sellose, "there is time enough to be pious when you are full Templars."
"Pious Templars, my ass," I thought to myself when a sudden question occurred to me, "Why didn't you become a full Templar if you were trained as an initiate?"
There was a sudden intake of breath, as if Sellose realized he has said too much and it was too late to take it back, "It is too long and complicated a story to get into, and I wouldn't wish to bore you. Anyway Forthwind hasn't told you what happens to the Andraste's Grace after the day is over."
I doubted the truth of his words, but I allowed him to change the subject and returned my attention to Rian, making a mental note to corner Sellose and get the truth at some later time, "What happens after the day is over?"
"Well," Rian continued, "after sundown the Sisters gather the Andraste's Grace again and bring it into the Chantry. They then dry out the flowers and gather them into little sachets that holy ladies purchase and carry with them. When they are around unpleasant smells in the marketplace you can sometimes see them sniffing the sachets. My mother had one that she kept in a trunk with special linens."
"I wouldn't mind having one myself," I grinned, "I could have it with me when I perform in certain taverns. It would certainly be helpful."
"After our mission is complete, I will purchase one for you, Svenya," Rian promised.
I shook my head, "That isn't necessary. It is just one more thing to carry and lose. I can withstand fowl odors. I am no pampered lady to be felled by stench. I would have succumbed long ago if that were the case."
"Just the same," Rian shrugged, "I will purchase you one of the sachets so that you can remember me."
"I would not require a sachet to remember you, my dear Red Knight." I smiled.
Rian laughed again, as he usually did when I addressed him this way and asked thoughtfully, "Why do you always refer to me as `Red Knight?'"
"You mean, aside from your hair?" I asked, "There is a legend of a Red Knight in these parts. It is closely associated with a local plant. I'll tell you later though. Ser Lion is looking at me fiercely beneath cloudy brows."
Ser Lion had been listening silently this entire time as we struggled up the road. "Woman, you will be the death of me! Sometimes I think that you have purposely chosen the longer route so that you will have a captive audience."
This was a derision I had grown accustomed to over the journey. Ser Lion growled a great deal but it is hard to despise a cat without teeth. Deep down, I was developing affection for the man. It also came to my attention that he readily assigned either my red knight or the ersatz king to chaperone me for fear that I would come to harm. Perhaps it is vanity on my part, but I chose to believe that Ser Lion had come to feel a grudging fondness for me as well.
He was huffing at the bottom of a particularly steep rise and looked up at me with a severe glower. I looked down at him plainly and shrugged, "And how would that serve me, Ser Lion? A captive audience still does me no good if I am not paid for my services. I could just as easily accuse you of walking slowly because you will miss my company when I am gone."
"Grrrrrr," he ground out between clenched teeth and trudged up the rise and choked back any further complaints.
"If it is any comfort," I assured him, "You will be free of me the day after tomorrow. By then we should be close enough to Herfirien that you will no longer require my guidance. We will be passing close enough to a small village this evening that you will be able to buy some more supplies. We have been making excellent progress, all things considered."
"Thank the Maker," Sellose cheered.
Rian looked slightly troubled at this news, "Where will you go after we have reached Herfirien?"
"I have old business to attend to." I jabbered vaguely, not wanting to get into detail, "After that I will go where the wind blows me."
Rian offered, "Perhaps you should travel with us back to Denerim? You had said you had bad dealings here with a local teyrn here, correct? Once you get your business done you can leave promptly with us. We should have horses by then and it would probably be a much quicker trip back, not to mention safer."
I stopped short and looked at him a moment. He was in earnest. It had not occurred to me that he might become attached to me in so short a period of time. What was even more startling was the realization that I had become so attached to the three of them and had learned to rely on them. For a moment I gave the offer serious consideration. Once I had done what I had come to do there was really nothing left to hold me here that wasn't tainted by pain. Perhaps I could convince Murchad to come with me, or even Bruna if she would be willing to make the trip. We could work within the court, Bruna would surely find someone who would hire her to cook and I could perform or seek sponsorship from a noble. Murchad always had a beautiful hand for writing and could work as a scribe or a clerk for a noble man. Anything was better than…
"No," bellowed Ser Lion, "I have had enough. I refuse to travel in the Bard's company back to Redcliffe. Stop flirting with the woman, Ser Forthwind. She will become too conceited to see what she is about."
Rian's ears became red and his jaw became tight again. He looked at me grimly and I shrugged back, "Do no be distressed, my Red Knight. My business will probably be anything but prompt compared to yours. I have more suitable plans. Be at ease." The last was more for me than for him as my little dream castles evaporated like fog. Ser Lion was right. It was better to make a clean cut from them rather than indebt myself to them or embroil them in my problems if it could be avoided.
"Besides" I added more lightly after a pause, "from what I have experienced, travelling with you three knights has been anything but safe. Travelling alone I draw far less attention, especially if you acquire more armor along with the new horses. Clatter, jingle, clatter, jingle, with every step."
"Wolves are also unable to bite through it," observed Ser Lion as he passed me and began to walk ahead, up the path that was starting to level out again.
"True," I conceded, "but with a well placed blade you can still be hobbled or wounded."
"Not if you know how to defend yourself properly!" he spat back over his shoulder.
He was anxious. He was sensitive about the fact that he had lost his armor. Maybe it made him feel less like a knight. In the last five years I had grown accustomed to not knowing what the day would bring, but he was a strategist without a strategy, a way to foresee the outcome of his journey. I could forgive the surliness when considering he was like a naked turtle, vulnerable to a world that he was unaccustomed to. We couldn't continue like this, so I did the only thing that seemed logical to me, I sat down.
"Um," Ser Sellose halted beside me and looked down at me with a comical expression, a combination of confusion and despair, "Svenya, this might not be the best moment to rest."
"I believe this moment is apt for a Bard who has been walking for a long time, up hill. My legs are sufficiently stretched, but my arms have cramped from lack of use." I alleged, to which Ser Lion spun around from where he was walking five yards ahead to discover that the rest of us has stopped short.
He stalked back to us with heavy tread and hissed with exasperation, "You said we could reach the village by this evening if we continued forward at this rate. You are slowing us down."
"You said if one knew how to defend themselves properly then they could not be wounded. Since I am to be robbed of the safety of your presence on reaching our destination and, as I have observed, I have not been paid for my services I will exact payment now. Ser Sellose has been kind enough to provide me with tutoring in use of the blade, but both Sellose and Forthwind have extolled you as a superior teacher of the art of fighting. You will give me a lesson to strengthen my defensive skills."
"Now?" Ser Lion roared indignantly.
Sellose stepped closer to me, "It might be wiser to wait until this evening once we have reached our destination and rested."
"Ser Lion does not expect me to be wise," I chided him, "and I intend to live up to all of his expectations, provided he is willing to live up to all of mine."
"Fine," croaked Ser Lion, "get out Forthwind's sword. We will have one, short lesson. When you yield we will continue on the road with no further interruptions, I trust?"
I conceded, "Of course. I would not dream of extending this agony if it were unimportant."
"Hmph!" he grumbled as he stalked from the road in search of a clearing suitable enough for us to spar.
Sellose helped me to my feet, beseeching, "Reconsider! He is a master and you will be on the ground in a matter of moments. In this mood he will not teach you, he will more likely kill you."
"Do not think so little of him. He is far more controlled than you give him credit for and he knows full well that if he kills me that all three of you will be wandering in the woods. He also isn't likely to hobble me either because then he would have to carry me on his back in order to reach his destination and that would slow him down further."
Sellose scratched the back of his neck nervously. Rian, however, agreed: "He will not harm her. He is more of a knight than that. He would sooner die."
"Are you coming or have you changed your mind," remonstrated an impatient voice from beyond a group of trees.
"I come, Ser Lion, I come," I responded humbly and began to walk toward him, Rian and Sellose at my heels. We entered a small clearing, just wide enough for the two of us to move unimpeded, but it required Rian and Sellose to remain under the cover of the trees. Ser Grey swung viciously through the air once or twice, causing a slight whistle with each swipe.
"I hope you know what you are doing," Sellose ventured with a sing-song lilt in his voice.
"So do I." I wavered slightly under my breath. It was hard to admit to myself, but I wanted this man's respect, much like Rian did. He was strong, but he did not revel in injuring others. I had known men who thrived on drawing blood and inflicting pain. He had a quiet strength, a power that quietly withstood the physical injuries he had suffered, but I feared that his trust would never recover from the outrage of the betrayal by a comrade. I trusted him not to hurt me, just as Sellose had professed to trust me that night as I fell asleep. It was something that defied explanation, but I needed to do something for him. He needed to address the anger that was slowly eating at him and surfaced at random moments. This bout was intended to be an exorcism of sorts, if only to ease the tension from the rest of our trip.
"Where do you want me, Ser Lion?" I asked meekly, feeling far less sure than I had that this was the right plan of action.
To that, Sellose quipped, "I got the impression that he didn't want you. Hasn't that been the point of most of his ire?"
"Stand there and just pick something," Ser Grey huffed, using his sword to point to a space opposite him.
I decided on the Ochs stance, since that was my weakest stance. The sword was so heavy for me that it made holding it above eye level very difficult. Sellose had compared it to aiming down the tiller of a cross bow at your opponent's neck. It would be difficult to stay like this for long, but if I wanted to improve I had to start here.
Grey studied my choice of stance a moment before driving forward and crashing down on my blade with his own like a hammer, causing me to stagger back slightly, but I held the stance. He came at me again, his arm again bringing his own blade down with punishing force that made my muscles feel like jelly, but I refused to drop the stance. Another blow like that could break my thumb where it held the underside of the grip. When he moved to strike a third time I brought my blade up, meeting his, breaking some of the momentum of the swing. He stepped back a moment, without lowering the sword and looked me in the eyes.
It occurred to me that he had never looked me in the eyes before now. Why did it suddenly cause him to pause?
"You insult me by choosing your weakest stance!" he accused.
"What other stance should I choose?" I asked, not blinking or looking away, "If I want to get stronger I have to go with the weaker stance. You are my teacher, so teach." To emphasize my point I skipped forward a step, threatening him with the blade, which caused him to step back to avoid being nicked.
He recovered quickly and fumed, "Choose a lower stance, Woman!"
"Never!" my voice was resolute.
This time his swing angled upward, causing my wrist to snap back with the force and my fingers felt like they would lose hold, but I recovered my grip before the sword could fly from my hand and he growled through clenched teeth, "Choose a lower stance! It would be too easy to injure you at your weaker stance."
"Do you usually quibble with your opponents over poor choice of stance or do you fight?" I demanded, "It is what it is! Your comrade was not worried about your stance when he knocked you on your back."
With that he rushed forward, forcing me to divert the point of my blade quickly or risk impaling him accidently. He had his blade lowered to the side, ramming into me with his shoulder striking my chest instead, causing me to fall. I clambered back as soon as I hit the ground and returned to my feet, repositioning to my original stance.
"For the mercy of the Maker, choose a lower stance!" he shouted, though the tone seemed less severe.
"Meet me where I am rather than where you want me to be!" I shouted back, stubbornly maintaining my chosen stance, though I was paying the price. Another blow like the last and I wouldn't be able to get off the ground again. I could feel the bruises blossoming under my skin and my muscles searing with pain.
"A high stance is unstable even for a strong armed fighter," explained Ser Lion, calmly slightly with each word, as if reasoning with a stubborn child. He began to move to his left and I edged to the right in response, trying to maintain the stance solidly as I moved and keep my blade pointing towards his head, "but for a woman with far less upper arm strength, it is suicide to maintain. Your upper arms will start to burn inside if you hold it too long, weakening your entire grip."
It occurred to me that he had decided to forgo attacking and allow the weakness in my arms to build up so that I would drop the stance without him having to swing. I rushed him, swinging down diagonally with my momentum from my high stance. He looked startled but deflected the blow with ease.
"So I won't hold the stance indefinitely." I answered, "A person would clear the fire out of their arm muscles with a well timed swing at regular intervals. It doesn't mean avoid the stance altogether."
With that he pushed forward, executing a series of parrying blows that I would not have thought possible with a long sword. It was elegant and hard for me to keep up with my clumsy beginner's stances. He forced me back again and again as I defended, unable to swing to make a blow myself. Before I knew it I was up against one of the trees that had been surrounding the clearing. He had the blade against my throat before I struck it away and took up the stance again, stubbornly refusing to lower it.
I'm not sure he realized it, but he was mirroring me with a matching Ochs stance, watching me beyond the point of his blade, measuring me with his steely gaze. I could feel my muscles tense, waiting for a blow or another rush forward.
As if coming to a conclusion, he nodded and sighed, lowering his sword, "I yield."
"What?" I choked with disbelief.
"I yield." He repeated, sheathing his sword, "I refuse to play this game. This wasn't about a lesson on defensive stances."
"Is that so?" I asked, refusing to drop my guard.
He looked at me, not with the same withering gaze that I had grown accustomed to, but with a softer look that was difficult to interpret, "If you should eventually find me worthy, ask to spar with me again. I will teach you to be a stronger fighter so that you can defend yourself from any foe. If that should fail, it would be my honor to defend you with my life."
Those words staggered me far more than any blow could have. I lowered the sword, afraid I would drop it. He turned and walked towards where Rian and Sellose were standing, with the same disbelief that I felt showing plainly on their faces. He barked at them, "Stop standing there and head back to the path. We are going to reach that village before nightfall as the Lady promised us."
Sellose looked at me, as if looking for some clue behind Ser Grey's change of heart, but I could not fathom it myself. I crept forward slowly, trailing behind Ser Lion who was resolute in his stride. We returned to the trail quickly and continued on our route, with the older knight in the lead. The rest of us followed mutely until Ser Lion stopped and turned to us, asking me, "I haven't started leading us in the wrong direction, have I?"
"No," I assured him, "you have been following the path truly. I would tell you if you strayed."
He nodded, "I know you would. It was foolish to ask."
"Are you alright?" asked Sellose.
"No," Grey spat, "but I refuse to lie down and die. I will complete my charge. I will do what I swore to do. I will be the lion that you so readily christened me." He looked at me with that and turned back to the path, "Now, lead on, Lady. Ser Sellose, if you will agree, you will be rear guard and I will see to Ser Forthwind."
We took up point as Ser Lion instructed, confused but unable to argue. It was only a matter of hours before we reached the small village, well before dusk. The market was beginning to close, but we managed to haggle for some produce to eat. The smith looked at us a little warily when we asked him to sharpen the knights' swords since they travelled without armor. He probably thought they were some kind of mercenaries passing through, but he didn't ask questions.
We found a safe place to camp just outside of the village, near a river that ran down from the surrounding mountains and provided the villagers with fish to supplement their diets. It wouldn't be long before there would be snow and it would freeze. The villagers had created drying huts near the river to help them to preserve the fish for winter storage. Walking by some of the houses in town, I could smell the brine from women pickling fish much like Bruna used to when I was a child. It seemed so familiar and was so far from where I was now.
As we settled down with the sunset, I could feel my muscles rebelling. I shifted stiffly every so often, stretching my legs out in front of me as I rested against a tree. Though he said nothing in regards to it, I got the impression that Ser Grey observed me with a smug sense of satisfaction, feeling slightly vindicated by my discomfort. It was Rian who ended up alluding it, "I wish I had some of Liselle's oils. I would offer you some. You look so pained."
"I'm sorry. I had hoped to disguise it as well as a knight would," I replied with chagrin.
Sellose chuckled sagely with that, "We rarely suffer in complete silence, my dear. You will have to keep stretching during the evening to avoid the inevitable kinks tomorrow."
I groaned and Ser Lion piped up, "Pain doesn't last. It is a knight's ability to continue on through the pain that illustrates their strength. You will hurt for a day or so, but it will pass. By experiencing pain you learn what never to do again."
"Fine," I acquiesced, "I have learned to never challenge you to spar, Ser Lion, just to prove a point."
Sellose nodded, "You have learned well. See that you never forget. He might not go as easy on you again."
"I doubt that would ever stop her," muttered Ser Grey, "stubborn ox that she is."
"It suits her well. It has probably served her even more so than being some fainting flower." Sellose insisted and Rian nodded agreement.
Ser Lion, regaining some of his previous moroseness, chided grimly, "Being stubborn can also get men killed. I would know." This last was added more softly and I was not entirely sure it had been said at all.
It occurred to me that I had behaved unfairly towards Ser Grey. Who was I to manipulate him to face something in the recent past when I couldn't fully deal with a past that haunted my own dreams? I pulled out my lute and strummed absently, escaping into my music and my stories.
