For Bredin, it was the best Midwinter ever. Not only had he impressed his father, but his brothers left off teasing entirely, still shocked by their defeat.
For the first time since summer, Enro took a keen interest in what Bredin was doing at the temple, questioning his son about what he was learning. Enro did not understand most of what Bredin talked about; it was worlds away from Enro's leatherwork and meant nothing to him. Still, he could see that Bredin was learning things that would take him far beyond Bransat. "You keep studyin' hard, son," Enro said "and you will go far."
Bredin, encouraged by his father's praise, asked if he could come back to work in the shop.
Enro paused. "I said I would not have you back. I live by my word." Enro seemed almost regretful as he said it and saw the disappointment on Bredin's face. "Maybe I was too hasty, but a man's got to live by his word. If his word means nothing, a man means nothing. I'm sorry, Bredin, but that is that. Don't ask me again." Enro's voice was firm, but not angry.
As Bredin bit his lip, trying not to cry. Enro went on " 'sides, it don't take much to see that you aren't meant for no saddle shop. That Herald you met were right. What you're learning'll make you rich."
Zelar, seeing that Bredin was unconsoled, interrupted to tell a story of how Kensie Poldara had come off his horse, knowing that Bredin would be happy to hear of his persecutor's discomfiture. "Ilis Pedden told me that Bennis saw his lordship get pitched right into the river. That big warhorse may be mean and powerful, but it's scared to death of water. Lord Kensie came galloping up to where Mason Creek joins the river and the horse stopped like it hit a wall. His lordship went over the horse's head straight into the drink. Broke right through the ice along the edge and had to wade out.
"Got right back on and was going to try again, but his friends made him go home afore he caught his death of cold."
Enro looked alarmed. "Zel, don't you go spreadin' tales about the highborn. That's a sure road to trouble. 'sides, how would Bennis a' seen that happen?"
Zelar pinched her lips. Even she found Enro's deference to the highborn excessive at times. "Zack and his sons were repairing Davan Cork's mill on Mason Creek. Bennis was clearing the out channel when he saw the Popinjays tearing along the riverside. Saw the whole thing happen."
Enro blanched when Zelar said 'popinjays'. "Don't ever use that word, Zel. The Count'll be fearful mad if he knew people be callin' his son and friends that."
Bredin was smiling broadly. In his mind's eye, he pictured Kensie sailing through the air to splash into the icy water. Enro saw the look on his son's face and wagged a finger at him. "Don't you go repeatin' that, neither. You'll get yourself and all of us in big trouble."
Bredin sobered instantly. When his father started dropping his endings, Enro was becoming upset. Best not to make a fuss now. Enro's mention of 'trouble for all' reminded Bredin of Father Toma's warning just candlemarks before.
Midwinter Fair lasted three days. Bredin enjoyed the time with his friends. Bredin could not resist bragging about how he'd bested his brothers. Asen and Raidal told a different version, emphasizing Bredin's 'cheating.'
Bredin also told his friends that Father Toma had said he could beat Kensie Poldara.
Sadly for Bredin, word of his boasts reached two people who were not pleased.
The first was Father Toma. On the day Bredin returned to classes, the priest met him at the gate. Grim faced, Father Toma said only "Follow me" and led Bredin to the practice ring.
The ring was empty, only Brother Luca stood at the door. Brother Luca left as they entered, closing the door behind them.
Bredin had no sooner entered the ring than Father Toma lashed out with his right leg, sweeping Bredin off his feet. Bredin, though surprised, turned the fall into a roll and tumbled to his feet. Before Bredin could regain his balance, Father Toma pushed Bredin backwards, sending him down again.
"Why…?" Bredin began as he got to his feet once more.
"Why not? I'm a better fighter than you are. Why shouldn't I push you around?" Father Toma said as he hooked Bredin's leg and sent the boy down again.
"That's not fair." Bredin cried out. This time, he did not get up.
"Was it fair when you used your training on Asen and Raidal?" The priest asked. "Get up."
"They jumped me!" Bredin said. This time he got up carefully, well away from Father Toma.
"They pushed you into a snowbank. Was that worth breaking Asen's finger?" Father Toma feinted. Bredin dodged. The priest snapped his arm out and shoved Bredin off balance. The boy kept his feet, staggering to the other side of the ring.
"I didn't break his finger." Bredin said. He fled to the far side of the ring.
"No, but you had it in a twist hold. To Asen, it felt like you were going to." He gestured for Bredin to come at him. When Bredin didn't move, Father Toma charged. Bredin tried to dodge, but the priest caught him and pinned the boy in the identical hold he had placed on Asen.
Bredin slapped his hand on the mat to signal submission. The priest sprang back.
Bredin stared at the priest, tears in his eyes. "I wasn't going to hurt him." He pleaded.
"You have been boasting for three days about how you beat your brothers." Father Toma said. "Now come and try to beat me."
In desperation, Bredin ran at the priest. Father Toma merely stepped aside to trip Bredin, sending him sprawling once more.
For the next quarter candlemark, Father Toma goaded Bredin, taunting and enraging the boy, whose efforts were soon completely uncoordinated. Father Toma worked carefully, not hurting the boy physically, but ensuring that Bredin got the full measure of feeling helpless.
At last, Bredin collapsed at one side, curled up and crying into his sleeve.
Father Toma sat down beside the boy. "You have been bullied before, Bredin, so you know you were being bullied now. It feels pretty awful, doesn't it?"
Bredin looked up. His eyes were red and tears flowed down his face. "Why?"
"What would you have done if Asen hadn't yielded? What would you have done if your father hadn't stopped him after you let him up?"
Bredin turned his face to Father Toma, his eyes taking an inward expression as he recalled the moment. "Asen was coming towards me. I'd 'a pulled his arm to the outside and given him a push on the shoulder while blocking his inside foot."
Father Toma nodded. "That would probably have been the simplest counter and would likely have worked. Do you see, Bredin? You have learned to fight. You have learned to fight very well. Do you see how that gives you a big advantage?"
Bredin nodded cautiously. "But they started it." He said. The situation still seemed unfair to him.
"Yes, they did." Father Toma agreed. "What did you do?"
"I took Raid down with a leg sweep, then used Asen's lunge to hip-throw him."
"Then what?" Father Toma said.
"I pinned Asen and used the twist to make him say 'uncle.'" Bredin now sat up and faced the priest.
"Why did you force him to submit?"
"To make him stop attacking me." Bredin let a little exasperation creep into his voice. Weren't his reasons obvious?
"Hadn't you already stopped the attack? Wasn't it over when you threw Asen? Couldn't you have just stood back?" Father Toma continued.
Bredin stared at the priest for a moment, slowly digesting the possibilities. "You mean I should just run away?" Bredin sounded tentative.
"Yes." Father Toma said. "If you do not have to fight, you should. But you didn't run. Instead, you had to prove you were better than Asen, didn't you? You had to make him submit."
Bredin looked down. "But Asen does it to me all the time." He attempted to justify himself.
"So you wanted to be just like him?" Father Toma prodded Bredin. Privately, he thought the comeuppance would be good for Asen, but he did not want Bredin to become self-righteous.
"No." Bredin said in a small voice.
"So why did you brag about it afterwards? That sounds like something a bully would do." Father Toma deliberately painted the most unfavorable view of Bredin's conduct.
"I'm sorry. Father." Bredin said, now truly remorseful.
Father Toma sighed. "In time, you will learn when you must fight and when you should run. I am sorry, too, Bredin. I have been very hard on you. You are going to be a very good fighter, but there is more to you than being a good fighter. If all we teach you is how to fight, then we – me, Brother Luca and all of the Order – have done something very wrong. I hope you will forgive me for being so harsh."
To Bredin, being a good fighter seemed a very good thing; he did not understand what could be wrong with that. Still, Father Toma seemed sincere. Not knowing what to say, he managed a soft "Okay".
"Thank you, Bredin." Father Toma saw that Bredin had grasped as much as could be expected for an eight year old. Time to lift the boy's spirit. "Now, would you like to learn some counters for those moves I used on you earlier?"
Bredin looked up in surprise. "Yes!" He said eagerly.
For the next candlemark, Father Toma patiently covered a few of the counters. He made sure that he praised Bredin's progress as the boy learned the moves. As Brother Luca peeked through the door to see if Father Toma was finished, the priest gave Bredin a series of drills to perfect the new skills. The boy left the ring exhausted but smiling.
The other person who was unhappy over Bredin's boasts was Kensie Poldara.
Count Poldara and his entourage had stopped at Bransat house for two days as the Count returned from Midwinter Court. Due to the imminent threat from the Tedrels, King Sendar had cut the Midwinter Festivities short this year and had sent the nobles back to their estates early to prepare for the coming conflict. Due to the short days, cold and snow on the roads, travel was difficult and slow. The Count had decided to break the journey to Poldara with a stopover in Bransat. Kensie had not been in the village for a candlemark before he got word of Bredin besting his brother and boasting of his skill.
Bredin trudged home still mulling over what Father Toma had said that morning. Not paying attention to where he was going, Bredin nearly ran into Blood. Kensie had planted the stallion directly in Bredin's path. Kensie's followers stood by, watching.
"So all must make way for the warrior." Kensie said sarcastically. The stallion pinned his ears and looked ready to strike.
Bredin started. "I am sorry, Milord." He said quickly, attempting to placate his nemesis. Bredin stepped aside and pulled his forelock.
Kensie moved the stallion sideways to block Bredin again. "I hear you are a great fighter now, peasant. Tell me how good you are." Kensie taunted Bredin. The stallion pawed the snow.
"My Lord, I know very little. I have been with the Temple only since Corn Moon." Bredin bowed and pulled his forelock again.
"I have heard that you were singing a different song, peasant. Of how you could beat me if you chose to." Kensie sneered down from Blood's back. The stallion was prancing in place as if eager to trample Bredin.
Bredin blanched. "I am sorry, My Lord. I was wrong. I take back what I said."
"I demand satisfaction, peasant. You must pay for your impertinence." Kensie was determined not to allow Bredin to escape.
Bredin went to his knees. "Please, My Lord. I was wrong. I am sorry."
"Your apology is not accepted, peasant. You must fight me. Stand up and fight." Several of the popinjays echoed the last statement.
By this time, several of the villagers had stopped to watch. None dared to intervene.
"Father Toma has forbidden me to fight, My Lord." Bredin pleaded, remaining on his knees.
"I said 'fight', peasant." Kensie released Blood who jumped forward, striking at Bredin.
Bredin reacted quickly, springing out of the stallion's path. He barely avoided the hooves, but the horse whipped its head around and snapped at Bredin, catching the boy's jacket and tearing the sleeve.
"I cannot fight you on your horse." Bredin cried out.
Kensie pulled Blood to a halt. "Oh, so you can fight?" Kensie dismounted and handed Blood's reins to Wallis Mittel. He advanced on Bredin.
Bredin stood and faced Kensie. With Father Toma's morning lesson still in his mind, he resolved not to fight. Surely the beating could be no worse than any of the others he had suffered. "I will not fight you, My Lord." He said.
"I said 'fight', peasant." Kensie snarled. He smashed his fist into Bredin's face, sending the smaller boy to the ground.
Bredin stood up. "No."
Kensie hit Bredin again, this time in the stomach. The punch bent Bredin over and Kensie kneed him in the chest. Bredin sprawled on the ground once more.
Bredin got to his feet and Kensie knocked him down once more. Bredin's passivity seemed only to enrage Kensie further. He kicked Bredin as the smaller boy attempted to rise.
"Enough, Kensie." Wallis Mittel said. "Let it be."
"Stay out of this!" Kensie snarled at his friend. His rage was now uncontrollable.
Bredin rose once more and stood with his arms at his sides. Determined to make Bredin defend himself, Kensie drew his dagger and lunged at Bredin, who dodged it.
Now Bredin had no choice. When Kensie lunged again, Bredin grabbed his arm. Using the older boy's momentum, he pushed Kensie forward and tripped him. Kensie sprawled in the snow. Several of the watching villagers laughed, further infuriating Kensie.
Kensie sprang to his feet and charged Bredin again, making an overhand stab. Bredin grabbed the descending arm, turned, crouched and puled, sending Kensie flying over his shoulder. Kensie tumbled and sprawled on his back. The villagers laughed again.
With a roar of rage, Kensie got up again. This time he charged at Bredin with wide arms. Bredin balanced himself. As Kensie attempted to grab him, Bredin ducked to Kensie's right. Grabbing the knife arm, Bredin jerked it upwards, causing Kensie to somersault and land hard on his back. Kensie whoofed as the wind was knocked out of him and made him to drop the knife.
Bredin, seeing his opportunity, kicked the dagger away and ran. He dodged between two of the popinjays' horses and raced down the street. The villagers roared approval as Bredin ran.
Kensie recovered his breath. He grabbed Blood's reins from Wallis and threw himself onto the horse's back. He touched Blood's side with his boot, sending the horse after Bredin. Blood charged between the horses of the others.
Bredin heard Kensie galloping up behind him. He attempted to dodge, but the stallion rammed him with its shoulder. Bredin went flying against the wall of a shop, rattling the shutters.
As Kensie spun Blood around, Bredin scrambled into the narrow space between two shops. He stopped halfway back and turned to face his attacker.
"Come out of there, you coward!" Kensie raged. The stallion raged as well, unable to squeeze into the narrow space. The horse reached its head as far in as possible and bared its teeth at Bredin.
Bredin said nothing. Breathing hard, he stared back at Kensie, wondering what the older boy would do next. He kept well out of the reach of the stallion.
Wallis Mittel ended the encounter. Coming up beside his friend, he grabbed his arm. "Kensie, people are watching. Let's get out of here."
Kensie looked around. He could see the expressions of contempt on the villagers' faces. Kensie flushed. He touched his heels to Blood's side and galloped up the street towards Bransat House. His friends galloped behind him.
The villagers cautiously approached the space where Bredin sheltered. Bredin still stood there, staring white-faced at where Kensie had been.
"It's safe now, lad." said Henri Virk. "They've gone."
Scarcely believing the baker, Bredin cautiously emerged into the street. The villagers cheered as he peeked out, looking for Kensie.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Bredin limped home as the bruises from the attack made themselves felt. The baker and the rest of the villagers escorted Bredin to his house.
Drawn out of his shop by the noise of the crowd, Enro heard them praise Bredin's courage and skill. Despite their assurances that Bredin had done everything possible to avoid a fight and done nothing to provoke Kensie, Enro remained convinced that Bredin must have done something to cause trouble. Inwardly, he worried that Count Poldara would retaliate for Kensie's humiliation.