Robert had seen pain and known heartbreak. And this was all before he was seven years of age. He was alone and this was all he had ever known. There were brief memories of his Mother but all loving and warm memories were pushed away by the image of watching her bleed to death before him. So he was constantly moving onward to new towns, begging where he could, stealing more often than not and fleeing the memories.
Allen thought that he knew pain. He also thought he knew terror as he fled, crying in fear from the sword that slashed at him. He tried not to weep, clutching his own sword even tighter. But panic paralysed him in place. The sword came swinging forward on final time, stopping one inch shy of his throat. All that could be hear was small sobs of fear.
Withdrawing, Wilfred sighed as he returned his sword to his scabbard as he walked up the courtyard. "I'm sorry, Lord Steffon," he said gruffly. "But I just don't think that your son is appropriate squire material."
Allen's Father was trying his best to hide his desperation. He placed his hand around Wilfred's arm, leading him away slightly. "Look," he said quietly, not wanting Allen to overhear. "Allen is my second son. My eldest shall inherit my lands in a few years and Allen will have nothing. He needs this!"
"And I sympathize," Wilfred said, though it was clear by his tone that he did not, "But don't you think that every Lord tells me a similar story? I can only take the best possible candidates and I can already see that he will never have what it takes."
"You saw him fight for a matter of moments!"
"That was because I defeated him in a matter of moments."
"The boy is but eight years old! How long do you really expect him to withstand a fully grown knight?"
Wilfred looked toward Allen who pretended to busy himself with his tunic. "I am not looking for skill," he said, "I am looking for potential. And I am sorry but that boy has none."
His words should have hurt. But Allen cared very little. He had no wish to be a squire anyway.
Robin watched the older boy with a sense of pity but quickly turned away to climb back through the hole he had snuck through. There was a nearby apple tree that could provide him with adequate spoils.
Unfortunately for him, Allen had taken a similar route, hiding from prying eyes by slipping through the same hole.
Robin watched the other boy approach, frozen in the act of shoving apples into his tunic. He could tell by the attire of the other that this boy was a Noble. And in his experience, Nobles did not take kindly to the likes of him.
Finally, Allen noticed that he was not alone. He too remained still, waiting for the other to act. Neither did.
"You won't take many that way," Allen said, pulling the strap of his satchel over his head. "Better take this." He held out the small leather satchel, waiting for Robin to take it.
Robin refused to move, convinced it was a trick. Allen sighed, moving forward to pick up fallen apples and placing them safely away. "We have more than enough for us," he said in explanation.
"I don't need your help!" Robin said angrily. "I don't need anyone!"
That was the first instance in which Allen used the gaze given to one of stupidity. This was to be used a great deal more in their time together. "Clearly you do," he said, ignoring the anger and continuing to fill until the clasp could not meet. "So take it, would you?" He laid it by the tree trunk and backed away.
Receiving aid was an entirely new concept to Robert but desperation always won out of caution. He quickly darted forward to snatch away the satchel. He knew that he ought to race off, in case this Noble boy changed his mind. In the same way, Allen knew that he ought to return back, in case he was missed. But neither moved. In truth, they were both incredibly lonely. Other children feared Allen, being the son of a Lord. And being wise beyond his years had gained him a rather impressive ego that made him horrible to be around. Robert simply never had the chance to meet anyone. In future, Allen liked to say that their souls instantly recognised each other as best friends and they were unable to tear themselves away. Robert said he had been hoping for more food.
"What were you doing fighting that man?" Robert asked.
"He's a Knight. Father wants him to take me on as a squire."
"Well he won't! You were horrible." Robert knew that he was only trying to be cruel because he was incredibly jealous. And a small part of Allen could sense this.
"So do you think you could do better?"
The challenge had been set. And even back then, Robert would never overpass a chance to show off. He had never held a sword before, but he desperately wanted to. So he followed Allen back through the hidden hole back to the courtyard. Everyone else had dwindled off, leaving them completely alone. Or so they thought. Wilfred had been leaning against a pillar, lost in thought when he noticed the two young boys lifting the practice weapons. All he could do was scoff. He had seen Allen fight and though he may have known nothing about this newcomer, he suspected the same amount of 'talent.'
But Robert had something that everyone young Lord lacked. A difficult life. A life of hiding and robbing had given him quick reflexes, strength and speed. He could dodge expertly whenever Allen attempted to hit him. His own blows were returned with uncanny speed and once more Allen found himself being shoved around the courtyard as he desperately tried to defend himself.
Wilfred felt his eyes widen in surprise. Suddenly, a very odd idea began to form.
Two weeks later, Robert and Allen found themselves travelling to Derbyshire, under the patronage of Lord Dale who was to sponsor both children training to become squires. Wilfred watched his two young students ride, full of excitement and promise.
Robin remembered that day well. It was the first time he had ever felt hope.
