17 The end of a long day
Warning: Physical violence in this chapter! If you are opposed, do not read on!
It didn't take long before Balan heard Bors' shouts coming up the hallway.
"Where are ye, ye pig-headed little bastard?" his voice boomed. The door burst open and Bors came in, fuming.
"I thought ye were a worthy knight!" Bors shouted. "I praised ye fer yer courage, and fer your skill! And what do ye do? Make a fuss over a few licks on your tail?!"
He shook the boy roughly.
"What were ye thinking, boy?! Causing such a racket and then feeling offended when Tristan gives it to you?!"
He grabbed Balan's wrist and hauled him from his bed.
"So ye think ye need to be sulking up here? I'll show ye how I feel about sulking, lad!"
And with these words, Bors dragged Balan out of the knights' quarters and headed straight for the tavern.
The knights were sitting at a long table with wooden benches on either side, and Bors sat down at the end of one of them. Before Balan realized what was happening, Bors had pushed his head under the table and was yanking at his breeches to take them down. He wanted to protest, but held his tongue when he remembered Bors' words.
Then his thoughts were abruptly erased from his mind. All he could feel and think of were the stinging blows that Bors landed on his rear. Already sore in this region, he yelped and kicked his legs at the new fire in his backside. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.
"Do ye deny that ye deserved the beating from our Tris?" Bors boomed.
Balan swallowed. He knew that Bors was right. It was just so humiliating to admit it!
"No," he muttered from under the table.
"Good!" Bors said loudly. He landed three more whacks on Balan's rear.
"Tha's what you get fer yer sulking, then!"
He pulled the boy back to his feet. Balan awkwardly noticed that all of the knights were looking at him. A few sent him compassionate smiles and nods, but most of them just smirked or laughed openly.
"Sit down!" Bors ordered.
Balan looked at him pleadingly, but Bors told him to sit down on the bench and be quiet. Very carefully Balan sat down, grimacing as he did so. The knights laughed, though Dagonet looked a little concerned.
"Right!" Bors announced with a grin. "Me thinks tha's settled!"
He looked down at the boy beside him and ruffled Balan's hair.
"Let's not ferget why we're here tonight, lad!"
He waved to Vanora, who had been watching from a corner of the tavern.
"Woman, we want to celebrate!"
The knights roared their approval. Jugs of ale were brought in by the barmaids and the knights started filling their mugs. Bors had arranged for Balan to be given a mug of watered-down mead, which surprised Tristan until his eyes found Dagonet's. The tall knight nodded with mirth in his eyes. Tristan nodded his thanks.
When the knights had had their mugs refilled, Bors made Balan stand up on the bench and the knights called out for him to stand on the table. Then they all raised their mugs and drank to his health.
"To a brave young knight!" Bors roared, and they all repeated his words loudly.
"To the boy who saved my life today!" Gawain added.
"To the fool who risked his life to save my ass, sacrificing his own!" Gaheris exclaimed with the broadest grin. He just couldn't resist.
They all laughed, including Balan. Though one particular knight had to be restrained by a few others, for Bors wished to place one of his sledgehammer-sized fists between Gaheris' eyes.
"Ungrateful bastard!" Bors muttered, taking a large swig of his ale. "You should have left him to the Woads, lad," he said to Balan.
Galahad and Pelleas came over to Balan's side of the table.
"Are you okay?" Galahad whispered pointedly.
"I'd rather not sit," Balan whispered back, causing Galahad to look at him gravely and Pelleas to snigger.
"Hey Balan!" Lancelot called from across the table. "Arthur just informed me that we'll be training on horseback all day tomorrow!"
The pained look on Balan's face made the knights all burst out in laughter. Balan felt his stomach sink. He couldn't possibly sit on a horse tomorrow!
"He's only joking, lad," Bors chuckled, playfully slapping the back of Balan's head.
"You and Tristan are the ones who hit him so hard!" Pelleas reminded Bors.
"Tha's right!" Bors replied firmly. "He needed it! He shouldn've sulked about a well-deserved beatin'! His head was getting too big for him already!"
He looked over his shoulder at Pelleas. "Do ye need a few licks yerself, boy? For takin' that tone with me?"
Pelleas hurried to decline the offer and he instantly disappeared with Galahad.
Balan listened while the other knights talked. Suddenly he realized that Tristan was standing behind him.
"I warned you…" the scout's deep voice whispered in his ear.
When Balan turned around, Tristan's eyes were twinkling mirthfully. An amused smile played around the scout's lips.
Balan's cheeks turned red, but then he shyly flashed a grin. He was quite aware that tonight's harsh beatings were the result of his own stupidity. It wouldn't have been so bad, had he not allowed his pride to get in the way.
"I'm sorry," he whispered ruefully.
Tristan put a comforting hand on Balan's shoulder and walked away.
Agloval sat down beside him.
"Well done, Balan!" he said approvingly and punched Balan's shoulder. "Good to know that we can count on you in battle!"
Balan said nothing, but he felt himself grow at least two inches. He smiled back at Agloval.
"The only thing you'll need to learn is how to keep your arse out of harm's way," Agloval chuckled.
Balan's face turned beet red again.
The knights called for Balan to get back onto the table.
"We want to drink to you again, lad!" Brumear shouted.
Balan complied with a grin.
"May he grow strong!" Pellinore began, lifting his mug.
The knights roared.
Tristan downed his last swig of ale and looked across the table.
"Looks like our hero has fallen asleep," Lancelot chuckled softly at his side.
Balan's head rested on his arms and his hair had fallen into his face. His mouth hung wide open as he slept.
The other knights were too occupied to notice.
Tristan walked over to the boy and shook him gently. "Come, boy," he said.
Balan barely woke up when Tristan pulled him to his feet. He couldn't keep his eyes open and his head was lolling.
"Did they give him any ale?" Lancelot asked, coming up beside the scout.
Tristan smelled the boy's breath and shook his head.
"It's been a long day," he said, lifting the boy over his shoulder and carrying him back to the knights' quarters.
When they had tucked Balan into bed, Lancelot looked from the sleeping boy to Tristan.
"Do you remember that Ruccius wasn't willing to let him come along this morning?" Lancelot asked pointedly.
Tristan nodded.
"You are one lucky dog to be alive," Lancelot whispered.
As soon as the first rustle had betrayed the approaching Woads, Tristan had urged the others on shore. He had chosen the opposite shore to avoid being seen. It wasn't until the Woads had discovered them that he had become aware of their large numbers and his own disadvantage. The three knights had run for their lives. When they had rounded the last river bend, he had already known that they would never make it.
But then a little figure had plunged into the river with three horses.
Tristan smiled. The boy had disregarded the depth of the river. He had simply trusted the horses to get him across. An arrow from the boy had killed a Woad who had been about to strike Gawain. The boy had risked everything. Seeing Balan galloping towards them with the horses had given him a new rush of hope. He had rarely felt more happy than the moment when the boy had tossed his curved sword into his hands.
Lancelot tapped his shoulder and nodded towards the door.
"Let's celebrate," Lancelot winked.
They walked out of the room and returned to the tavern.