13 Life goes on
That night in the tavern the other knights listened as Tristan recounted the events.
"Definitely Sarmatian," Bors chuckled.
"Could have been a son of yours, Tristan," Lancelot smirked.
The knights laughed.
Dagonet left the tavern to check on the boy's welts and bruises. But Tristan had already seen to that and the boy was fast asleep.
That day on the hill was a turning point. Balan and Tristan had both found a basis for trust in the other and from that moment onwards their friendship began to grow steadily. It made life at the fort a lot more bearable.
Summer came and Balan worked hard in the practice yard. Tristan took him to the armoury and the two of them spent many days perfecting Balan's arrow-making skills. Balan rotated the freshly cut arrow shafts above a small fire in the workshop until his fingers were sore, but eventually he learnt how to make the shafts perfectly straight. Better than he had ever managed to make them before.
"You need a straight shaft for a perfect aim," Tristan told him. "Your life and the lives of others will depend on it. If you are far away from new supply, it is good to be able to make your own."
He took the arrow shaft from Balan's hands and showed him once more how to rotate it. "Like this boy," he explained.
Later that week Tristan took Balan to the practice yard to let him shoot some of his self-made arrows. When the first arrow landed only half an inch from the target's center, Tristan glanced down at the boy with mild surprise. He didn't say a word though, and only slightly adjusted the boy's stance when the boy aimed his second arrow at the target. This time the arrow hit the bull's eye.
Tristan took the short bow Balan was using from the boy's hands and replaced it with his own Sarmatian composite bow. Balan's eyes widened. He looked up at Tristan questioningly.
Tristan nodded, amused at the boy's delight. "Take your best shot, boy," he encouraged.
Balan aimed for the target.
At the end of the day Tristan was satisfied with the boy's results. Balan couldn't pull the bow's string as far as he ought to yet, but he managed well enough to be able to use a composite bow like Tristan's soon.
Tristan would have to speak with Ruccius about this. The boy was a talented archer, which would come to his advantage on the battle field. If the boy could use a composite bow for a weapon, it would only be better. The longer range of the bow would enable the boy to stay far out of reach of his enemies, which would heighten his chance of survival. A composite bow was expensive, but perhaps Ruccius would see the advantage of letting Balan have one.
From that day onwards, Tristan made Balan pull the string of the composite bow first thing after breakfast each day, to let him gain strength.
They continued the running exercise in which Balan had to return arrows to Tristan from across the valley. But after a few more training sessions Tristan no longer wanted the boy to reach the maximum point of exhaustion. They began to work on building up Balan's strength and endurance, and after many long weeks of training, Balan managed to return eight arrows without collapsing.
Tristan was pleased with the boy's progress.
In the evening hours he taught the boy how to whet throwing-knives so that the blade remained well balanced. Though the boy wasn't very good at first, Balan soon improved and eventually developed a real knack for it.
Galahad and Pelleas waited for Balan after every long training day. Pelleas had gotten a little vain about being the only one between the three of them who was allowed to ride out with the knights. But when Gaheris overheard his snobbing, he revealed to Galahad and Balan that Pelleas had been calling for his mother in his sleep ever since his first mission.
Though Galahad and Balan swore a solemn oath to keep Pelleas' secret, Pelleas was quite subdued in the weeks that followed. He even let Balan and Galahad best him in a sparring match as a way of making things up with them, which pleased Gaheris immensely.
One night Balan had a long conversation with Tristan about his desire to escape from the fort and return home.
"You can't boy," Tristan said patiently. "You don't want to risk the lives of your family and tribe."
Balan looked confused. "What do you mean?" he asked. He suddenly felt uncertain. Tristan explained how the Romans had punished the families and tribes of deserted Sarmatian conscripts in the past. They had burned tents and supplies; killed family members at random; tortured, raped and plundered; and they had poisoned the wells, effectively killing the herds.
This new revelation hit the boy hard. Until that day he had found strength in the idea that he would escape from the fort to try and make his way back to Sarmatia one day. But now the realization began to sink in that he would not be seeing his family for a very long time.
Night after night Tristan lay listening to the muffled, choking sobs of the inconsolable boy. Until one night he got up and took the crying boy in his arms.
"Sshhh," he whispered and laid his hand on the boy's head. Balan's body was shaking uncontrollably and his face was wet from his tears. Tristan's deep voice softly murmured words of understanding into the boy's ears. After a while he wrapped the weeping and shivering boy in a blanket and sat down with him by the fire.
"Do you miss your father so?" Tristan inquired gently.
Balan nodded through his tears and hid his face in Tristan's chest.
"And my mom," he whispered desperately.
Balan almost choked on the new wave of tears that forced its way up at the thought of his parents. His body jolted erratically and his chest heaved as he tried to regain his breath. Balan firmly clenched the sleeves of Tristan's shirt and he growled and wailed in his grief and anguish.
"Hey," Tristan murmured after a while. "You are my brother. You're not alone."
He nudged the boy softly.
"Balan," he whispered in the boy's ear.
Balan looked up.
"I will be there for you," Tristan said seriously, looking into a pair of red and tearful eyes.
As the night progressed, the distraught expression in the boy's grieving eyes gradually began to grow less. The fire died and the last sounds of nightly activities faded into silence. Tristan remained by the boy's side. When dawn crept in through the window, Balan leant numbly against Tristan's chest, only an occasional sob still shaking his body.