05 A new life
Warning: Physical violence in this chapter. If you do not like this, do not read on!
Weeks passed and Tristan had begun the boy's training. He was pleased to see that the boy had plenty of skill with the sword already. Ruccius had forbidden the new boys the use of real weapons for now, but Tristan was certain that the boy would do well with a real sword, despite the difference in weight. The boy was eager to learn and he carefully paid attention to everything Tristan said. He worked hard and did not complain, even if Tristan pushed him to the point of exhaustion. The boy learned fast.
Junius had been right that the boy could understand Latin. His father had taught him Latin from an early age. The boy also knew some Gaulish and Tristan had seen him attempt to learn new words from the language of the local people.
While the other boys learned Latin from an old Roman teacher, Balan spent his time doing chores for Tristan and the other knights. He also met a special person he soon loved spending his free time with: Vanora. Bors' lover enjoyed the company of the young lad, who was about five years older than her own eldest son. Balan gladly volunteered to do chores for Vanora, which was often rewarded with an extra snack or treat from Vanora's storage rooms, one of the perks of Vanora's job in the tavern. One morning Balan felt so confident that he asked Vanora to teach him how to cook. Bors boxed his ears on the spot and accused him of trying to steal his woman. But Balan explained that his mother had taught him how to cook meals. His father had told him that a man was blessed if he was able to prepare good food for himself when away from his home and his woman.
"Nothing beats exhaustion and loneliness better than a good meal," Balan repeated his father's words. "But I still have to learn how to prepare food that grows in Britain."
Bors thought of the dried meat and hard bread he often had to make do with while away from the fort and agreed with the boy's ideas. If the boy could learn how to make good food, then he was happy to encourage him. "Ye learn how to cook then lad," he chuckled. "An' if it tastes any good, I'll help ye eat it, all right?"
The older Sarmatian boys had reluctantly accepted the three new ones in their midst. In the evening hours Pelleas, Balan and Galahad often joined the older boys, who generally sat around a small fire basket away from the older knights. It meant a lot of betting and gambling, much jovial banter and laughter, outrageous boasting about fighting skills and also: comparisons of welts and bruises after beatings from their mentors.
Balan wordlessly observed his new companions from the background. Galahad mainly nodded or shook his head to show that he agreed or disagreed. But Pelleas soon humiliated himself when he tried to impress the others. The older boys challenged him to show off his sword fighting skills and prove that he was as good as he claimed. To the older boys' great hilarity, all Pelleas was able to produce was his wooden practice sword, which broke into pieces after one strike from a nineteen-year-old Alani boy named Lanolan.
A few weeks after their 'mission' to the village, Pelleas, Galahad and Balan made a second attempt to sneak out and 'become men'. In order to reduce their chance of being noticed, the boys slipped through the gates one by one.
They had almost succeeded. But Tristan caught Balan when he was about to disappear into the forest. He dragged the boy back to the fort and into his room, and pushed him face down onto the bed.
"Take off your boots!"
The boy had screamed while Tristan had whipped the soles of his feet. He had not been able to walk for a good part of the next two days.
Tristan felt a subtle twinge of regret for this. But at least it seemed to have taken the boy's mind off trying to walk away from the fort for a while.
During the daytime the young boy seemed lively enough. He did his chores, obeyed Tristan's orders, worked hard in the practice yard and occasionally fought with the other boys. At night, however, Tristan often heard him cry underneath his blankets and the boy was having fitful dreams.
One night Tristan returned to his room after a scouting trip and found the boy desperately sobbing into his arms, his face wet with tears. Balan instantly turned his face away from Tristan and choked his sobs into his bed covers, but Tristan had already seen the boy's grief and distress.
Tristan quietly took off his cloak and calmly put his weapons away. He sat down on the edge of the boy's bed and laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. He pressed down lightly and kindly ruffled the boy's hair. Then he silently returned to his own bed and continued taking off his boots and his clothes. The sobs became quiet and for a while it seemed as if the boy would calm down. But then the boy coughed violently and his sobbing resumed.
Tristan lay awake for a long time, while Balan tried to hide his tears under his blankets. It was a few hours before dawn when Tristan finally heard a sigh coming from the boy's side of the room. Slowly, the sobbing subsided.