Here's chapter three. Read, Review, etc. More Training fun for Francis, 'Alan' and the gang.
Disclaimer: The people and places in this story belong to Tamora Pierce. Some of the events come from the first book of her Lioness series, Alanna: The First Adventure.
As Francis was making his way down to the practice courts, Jonathan caught up with him. They chatted cheerfully as they made the long walk to the field where they would warm up for the afternoon.
"So Francis, how was your summer? I really haven't gotten a chance to talk to you since you came back to the palace." Jon asked.
"Not very restful, that's for sure." Francis replied, "The moment I got home, our sergeant-at-arms picked up where he left off last summer in my lessons. If I'd have known how much work was involved in running a fief, maybe I would have passed on my inheritance to my brother." Jon looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
Francis grinned, knowing what he was thinking. "Well, perhaps not," Francis had not been the official heir to fief Nond; he was the younger son of his parents only two children. His older brother, Franklin, had been named heir until their father changed his will just days before he died. Franklin was not the most dependable person. He too had dreamed to become a knight, but his lack of commitment had led him to give up during his second year as a squire.
Had Franklin inherited Nond, his father had explained to him calmly on his deathbed, he would have squandered everything he and his fathers before him had worked for. So when his father died, Francis was named Lord of Nond, much to the distaste of his brother. Even today Francis was sure that Franklin hated him for inheriting Nond, when the fief should have been his.
"How was your summer Jon?" Francis asked the prince.
"Much the same as yours. You would think my father could teach me all I'd ever need to know about being king when I'm his squire, but he insists that if I'm to be a good ruler, I've got to start young!" Francis smiled understandingly. He and Jon shared a certain bond that came from their similar situations. They both had responsibility that their others friends wouldn't learn of until they were much older. Often times Gary would complain that he and Jon where much too serious, but they would just smile and shake their heads, knowing that their worries were much greater than Gary could understand.
"So," Jon asked, "How do you think young Trebond is enjoying his first day of training?"
Francis almost laughed, "He survived the morning classes; that says something about the little guy's character, but we'll see how he feels after this afternoon."
Upon reaching the field where they would exercise, the older pages spread out into their normal neat rows, the first years following their example. The new fourth year pages now had the responsibility of leading the warms ups. Today, Raoul was chosen and he led them through an hour of exercises and stretches that would loosen up their bodies while at the same time built up their muscles.
Next came the basics of staff fighting for the new pages and more complex drills for the older boys. Later, once their teachers agreed that second, third, and fourth year pages had not forgotten what they had been taught of the staff, they would continue where they left off with their sword lessons.
Francis paired off with Alex, his favorite partner for staffs. Of all his friends, Alex was closest to Francis in height, weight and strength. They whirled through the drill with ease, perfectly in time with one another, although Francis knew that when they moved onto swords, it would be an entirely different story. Alex was the best swordsman out of all the pages. Duke Gareth even tutored him privately to make sure he was kept challenged. But for now, they were even matched with staffs and it felt good to be back on the practice courts.
After staffs, the pages were sent to work with Merran Shortfoot, their hand-fighting master. The rough, muscular young man was their only common born teacher. He had grown up in the rogue, serving their king as a muscleman and guard, earning extra money from street fights. Now he had turned respectable and served the crown as a training master for pages.
Today they went over basic blocks and punches, reviewing everything thing so that they could use the techniques later in sparring matches. They also joined the new boys as they learned to fall. Francis winced as Alan slammed into the ground time after time, forgetting to cushion the impact by turning his side and slapping the ground with his opposite leg and hand. The boy was sure to have bruises tomorrow.
After a quick review of shield blocks, the pages were herded over to the archery courts. This was Francis' domain. He was okay with his hands fighting and the sword, and good with a staff, but the bow was by far his best weapon. Francis loved the calm, collected feeling he felt as he drew a long bow, just knowing that the arrow would thud into the target exactly where he wanted.
To him, their hour of archery wasn't another grueling lesson, but a time of leisure and fun. Today their archery master let the fourth and third year pages play with whistling arrows that were meant to intimidate enemy fighters with their high-pitched scream.
Finally, the tired pages trudged to the stables for their final hour of lessons, which where spent on horseback. Francis loved the smell of the stables. The mixture of fresh hay and the natural odor of horses always made him smile. Quickly he found his way to the stall where his horse was kept. Honeydew, his golden mare, met him with a welcoming whicker. He had missed his sweet girl over the summer. Deftly, he saddled her and cantered to the ring so that the ridding master could check his tack.
Francis was surprised to find that little Alan had been given one of the biggest horses, Yonder. The redhead tried desperately to control the big gray creature, but Yonder seemed to have different ideas as to where he and his rider should go. Much to Alan's embarrassment, he slipped of the big horse three times, each time conveniently in a large pile of horse droppings. At least Yonder seemed to be enjoying himself.
As the ridding master was lecturing Alan and dishing out punishment for his complaints that Yonder was too big for him, Gary meandered his big gelding, Breakfast, over next to Honeydew.
"That horse is too big for him Francis," he whispered under the ridding master's rants.
Francis nodded, "Drewan of Hollyrose was his rider last year, and you know how that big guy loved to pull on the reins. Yonder, that's the horse name, must have a mouth harder than stone."
"Do you think you might be able to help Alan with him?" asked Gary, "I swear you must be half horse, the way those animals take to you!"
At that moment the ridding master turned back to his class and Francis was unable to respond. Instead, he nodded to Gary when the ridding master turned his head again.
Finally, the bell rang that signaled the end of their afternoon training. Francis could almost hear a giant sigh of relief come from all of the pages. The first day of training was always rough. After taking care of their horses, they began the long walk up the hill that led to their rooms. Most of the hot and sweaty boys, Francis among them, stripped of their soaked tunics and unbuttoned their shirts in anticipation of the cool baths that waited in their rooms.
"Francis, wait up!" Gary called from behind him. Francis stopped, thankful for an excuse to rest on the long trip up the hill, and looked back to find Gary and Alan hurrying to catch up with him.
"Thanks," Gary said out of breath when they finally caught up with him. To Alan he said, "Alan, our Francis is a miracle worker with horses."
"I could help you with Yonder if you want. He's stubborn, but trainable." Francis explained as they continued on their way back to the page's wing.
"You don't have to do that," Alan said uncertainly, "I'm sure with a little time and extra practice I can learn to control him."
"Really, it's okay Alan, I don't mind," Francis insisted, "I did the same for Raoul, Gary too, and loads of others. The palace is notorious for giving the most stubborn horses to the pages. Nobody else wants them."
Alan seemed to waiver a bit, "If it's no trouble..." He wiped several beads of sweat off his face. The poor lad looked exhausted. Francis found it odd that Alan, who seemed to be sweating profusely, had not yet taken off his tunic and shirt like all the other boys. Francis tucked the thought away, explaining to himself that he was probably just shy and unsure if he was allowed to do so.
"It's no trouble, I love horses, and besides," he added with a shy smile, "That's what friend are for."
"There you are Alan, I told you he'd do it!" Gary said as he steered away from them toward his room.
"Thanks Francis," Alan said as he stepped into his own room, the one to the left of Francis's.
Francis smiled as stepped into his room, quickly abandoning his sweaty clothes for the cool water of his tub. Alan was a strange little guy.
Let me know what you think. Next chapter will be fun; Francis will overhear a certain conversation...
Disclaimer: The people and places in this story belong to Tamora Pierce. Some of the events come from the first book of her Lioness series, Alanna: The First Adventure.
As Francis was making his way down to the practice courts, Jonathan caught up with him. They chatted cheerfully as they made the long walk to the field where they would warm up for the afternoon.
"So Francis, how was your summer? I really haven't gotten a chance to talk to you since you came back to the palace." Jon asked.
"Not very restful, that's for sure." Francis replied, "The moment I got home, our sergeant-at-arms picked up where he left off last summer in my lessons. If I'd have known how much work was involved in running a fief, maybe I would have passed on my inheritance to my brother." Jon looked at him with a raised eyebrow.
Francis grinned, knowing what he was thinking. "Well, perhaps not," Francis had not been the official heir to fief Nond; he was the younger son of his parents only two children. His older brother, Franklin, had been named heir until their father changed his will just days before he died. Franklin was not the most dependable person. He too had dreamed to become a knight, but his lack of commitment had led him to give up during his second year as a squire.
Had Franklin inherited Nond, his father had explained to him calmly on his deathbed, he would have squandered everything he and his fathers before him had worked for. So when his father died, Francis was named Lord of Nond, much to the distaste of his brother. Even today Francis was sure that Franklin hated him for inheriting Nond, when the fief should have been his.
"How was your summer Jon?" Francis asked the prince.
"Much the same as yours. You would think my father could teach me all I'd ever need to know about being king when I'm his squire, but he insists that if I'm to be a good ruler, I've got to start young!" Francis smiled understandingly. He and Jon shared a certain bond that came from their similar situations. They both had responsibility that their others friends wouldn't learn of until they were much older. Often times Gary would complain that he and Jon where much too serious, but they would just smile and shake their heads, knowing that their worries were much greater than Gary could understand.
"So," Jon asked, "How do you think young Trebond is enjoying his first day of training?"
Francis almost laughed, "He survived the morning classes; that says something about the little guy's character, but we'll see how he feels after this afternoon."
Upon reaching the field where they would exercise, the older pages spread out into their normal neat rows, the first years following their example. The new fourth year pages now had the responsibility of leading the warms ups. Today, Raoul was chosen and he led them through an hour of exercises and stretches that would loosen up their bodies while at the same time built up their muscles.
Next came the basics of staff fighting for the new pages and more complex drills for the older boys. Later, once their teachers agreed that second, third, and fourth year pages had not forgotten what they had been taught of the staff, they would continue where they left off with their sword lessons.
Francis paired off with Alex, his favorite partner for staffs. Of all his friends, Alex was closest to Francis in height, weight and strength. They whirled through the drill with ease, perfectly in time with one another, although Francis knew that when they moved onto swords, it would be an entirely different story. Alex was the best swordsman out of all the pages. Duke Gareth even tutored him privately to make sure he was kept challenged. But for now, they were even matched with staffs and it felt good to be back on the practice courts.
After staffs, the pages were sent to work with Merran Shortfoot, their hand-fighting master. The rough, muscular young man was their only common born teacher. He had grown up in the rogue, serving their king as a muscleman and guard, earning extra money from street fights. Now he had turned respectable and served the crown as a training master for pages.
Today they went over basic blocks and punches, reviewing everything thing so that they could use the techniques later in sparring matches. They also joined the new boys as they learned to fall. Francis winced as Alan slammed into the ground time after time, forgetting to cushion the impact by turning his side and slapping the ground with his opposite leg and hand. The boy was sure to have bruises tomorrow.
After a quick review of shield blocks, the pages were herded over to the archery courts. This was Francis' domain. He was okay with his hands fighting and the sword, and good with a staff, but the bow was by far his best weapon. Francis loved the calm, collected feeling he felt as he drew a long bow, just knowing that the arrow would thud into the target exactly where he wanted.
To him, their hour of archery wasn't another grueling lesson, but a time of leisure and fun. Today their archery master let the fourth and third year pages play with whistling arrows that were meant to intimidate enemy fighters with their high-pitched scream.
Finally, the tired pages trudged to the stables for their final hour of lessons, which where spent on horseback. Francis loved the smell of the stables. The mixture of fresh hay and the natural odor of horses always made him smile. Quickly he found his way to the stall where his horse was kept. Honeydew, his golden mare, met him with a welcoming whicker. He had missed his sweet girl over the summer. Deftly, he saddled her and cantered to the ring so that the ridding master could check his tack.
Francis was surprised to find that little Alan had been given one of the biggest horses, Yonder. The redhead tried desperately to control the big gray creature, but Yonder seemed to have different ideas as to where he and his rider should go. Much to Alan's embarrassment, he slipped of the big horse three times, each time conveniently in a large pile of horse droppings. At least Yonder seemed to be enjoying himself.
As the ridding master was lecturing Alan and dishing out punishment for his complaints that Yonder was too big for him, Gary meandered his big gelding, Breakfast, over next to Honeydew.
"That horse is too big for him Francis," he whispered under the ridding master's rants.
Francis nodded, "Drewan of Hollyrose was his rider last year, and you know how that big guy loved to pull on the reins. Yonder, that's the horse name, must have a mouth harder than stone."
"Do you think you might be able to help Alan with him?" asked Gary, "I swear you must be half horse, the way those animals take to you!"
At that moment the ridding master turned back to his class and Francis was unable to respond. Instead, he nodded to Gary when the ridding master turned his head again.
Finally, the bell rang that signaled the end of their afternoon training. Francis could almost hear a giant sigh of relief come from all of the pages. The first day of training was always rough. After taking care of their horses, they began the long walk up the hill that led to their rooms. Most of the hot and sweaty boys, Francis among them, stripped of their soaked tunics and unbuttoned their shirts in anticipation of the cool baths that waited in their rooms.
"Francis, wait up!" Gary called from behind him. Francis stopped, thankful for an excuse to rest on the long trip up the hill, and looked back to find Gary and Alan hurrying to catch up with him.
"Thanks," Gary said out of breath when they finally caught up with him. To Alan he said, "Alan, our Francis is a miracle worker with horses."
"I could help you with Yonder if you want. He's stubborn, but trainable." Francis explained as they continued on their way back to the page's wing.
"You don't have to do that," Alan said uncertainly, "I'm sure with a little time and extra practice I can learn to control him."
"Really, it's okay Alan, I don't mind," Francis insisted, "I did the same for Raoul, Gary too, and loads of others. The palace is notorious for giving the most stubborn horses to the pages. Nobody else wants them."
Alan seemed to waiver a bit, "If it's no trouble..." He wiped several beads of sweat off his face. The poor lad looked exhausted. Francis found it odd that Alan, who seemed to be sweating profusely, had not yet taken off his tunic and shirt like all the other boys. Francis tucked the thought away, explaining to himself that he was probably just shy and unsure if he was allowed to do so.
"It's no trouble, I love horses, and besides," he added with a shy smile, "That's what friend are for."
"There you are Alan, I told you he'd do it!" Gary said as he steered away from them toward his room.
"Thanks Francis," Alan said as he stepped into his own room, the one to the left of Francis's.
Francis smiled as stepped into his room, quickly abandoning his sweaty clothes for the cool water of his tub. Alan was a strange little guy.
Let me know what you think. Next chapter will be fun; Francis will overhear a certain conversation...
