21 Rules
Tristan dismounted where the painted man had fallen from the tree. His eyes instantly went to the arrow protruding from the dead man's ribs. A hint of surprise passed across his face when he realized whom the arrow belonged to.
He grimaced when the smell of woad invaded his nostrils. He couldn't understand why the Woads had picked the worst stinking plant in all of Britain as the basis for their bodypaint. The infamous smell was so bad that the fierce rebels had even been named after the bloody plant!
The alerted patrol jogged back to the tree. He waited, knowing full well that they would want to question him and take the body to the fort.
"Did you shoot him?" the patrol leader asked tentatively.
Tristan shook his head.
"Then who...?" the Roman began, looking around for the archer who had killed the Woad.
Tristan nodded to the top of the wall.
"I know who did it. I will report to Ruccius right away," he replied, mounting back up.
"The commander is going to kill us," the Roman whispered. "To think that a Woad was up in this tree for who knows how long and nobody noticed him!"
Behind him the soldiers exchanged uncomfortable glances.
"Better be glad the Woad did not kill you," Tristan said calmly.
But the Roman did not seem convinced that facing Ruccius was the easier option.
When Tristan entered the fort, news of the Woad was spreading rapidly among the people in the streets - without a doubt because some sentry who had seen it happen had loudly passed the message to his superiors.
"Fools!" Tristan thought disdainfully. The more fuss they made, the more it would stir up Ruccius' wrath.
A crowd was gathering by the East Gate to catch a glimpse of what had happened. Even some of the younger Sarmatians were gaping at him as he rode towards the stables.
He passed his horse's reins to Jols and grasped Galahad firmly by the scruff of his neck.
"Do me a favor. Find Balan for me and tell him to go to my room. He must wait for me there."
He pushed the inquisitive youngsters aside and entered the main building to find Ruccius.
Half an hour later Balan looked up from the leather sheath in his hand when footsteps approached in the corridor. He watched with mild apprehension as Arthur walked into the room, closely followed by Tristan. Although he had a good idea what Tristan wanted to discuss with him, he had been unable to guess further reasons behind the order to wait here. Seeing Arthur enter the room with a determined expression on his face didn't seem at all reassuring to him.
Arthur walked to one of the chairs by the fireplace and sat down. Tristan motioned for Balan to follow and took the seat opposite Arthur. Balan remained on his feet, nervously glancing from Arthur to Tristan. No-one had spoken a word yet, but the unspoken tension told him that trouble was brewing.
"Balan," Arthur began in a calm but serious tone. "Less than an hour ago a Woad was shot out of the tree near the East gate. He was killed by one of your arrows. Did you shoot him?"
Although he doubted it would be wise to admit to it, Balan nodded.
"Speak louder, boy," Tristan admonished.
"Yes I did," Balan said timidly.
"Tell me what happened, Balan."
Arthur looked at him expectantly, his kind eyes encouraging Balan to speak freely.
Balan began his story with his stroll along the parapets. He recounted how he had noticed the Woad in the tree and how he had initially believed him to be a spy. He then described how he had dismissed this idea when the Woad had risked his life to kill in plain view of the Wall.
Both Arthur and Tristan listened with interest.
"It was too late to warn the sentries, sir. I had to shoot him myself. But he did not aim for the patrol, sir. He was aiming for Tristan."
Arthur and Tristan exchanged a quick glance.
"Why do you think the Woad was aiming for Tristan, Balan?" Arthur asked.
Balan hesitated.
"I saw it, sir," he said pointedly, as if that was answer enough.
Tristan bit back a smile.
"And why would a Woad go through all this trouble to kill one Sarmatian warrior?" Arthur asked skeptically.
Balan's keen eyes looked straight into Arthur's.
"Bors says that the Woads hold great fear for Tristan, sir. He says that Tristan killed so many of them, it is a wonder there are any left. I suppose the Woads must hate Tristan even more than they fear him, sir. Maybe this Woad wanted revenge?"
Balan shot a guilty glance at Tristan before adding, "Getting rid of Tristan would also reduce their risk of getting killed when they attack your men."
Arthur smiled inwardly. This was the same explanation he, Ruccius and Tristan had come up with a little earlier. He had meant to test Balan with his questions and he was pleased with the result.
"I do not agree with your story, Balan," Arthur said sternly.
Balan looked up with mild surprise.
"You claim that it was too late to warn the sentries. It was not."
Confused by Arthur's assertion, Balan held his tongue and waited for Arthur to elaborate. But Arthur said nothing. He looked at Balan expectantly.
Taking care not to deny Arthur's words too openly, Balan pointed out, "The Woad would have fired if anyone had shouted or tried to intervene, sir. He had already notched an arrow."
Arthur shook his head resolutely.
"How long did you watch him before he notched his arrow?" he asked sternly.
Balan suddenly felt very warm. His eyes widened when he recognized his mistake. He lowered his head in shame.
"It would not have been too late to warn the sentries if you had followed the rules," Arthur admonished. "You should have reported the very moment you spotted the man in the tree, Balan!"
Tristan watched as the boy kept his eyes on the rug.
"You gave the Woad way too much time to prepare for his kill, boy," Tristan chided kindly.
Arthur noticed that Balan's cheeks and ears had turned a deep shade of crimson. Good! The boy realized that he had made a critical mistake. Arthur wanted the boy to learn a bit more from this experience, though.
"Look at me, Balan!" he demanded.
The boy looked up timidly.
"By waiting so long without reporting, you took away our chance to capture this Woad alive. You ruined our opportunity to question him for information. Look at me, boy!"
Balan's eyes had returned to the floor. He quickly looked back up.
"If you notice anything out of the ordinary, Balan, I want you to report to your superiors or to the sentries immediately. That is an order."
"Yes sir," Balan whispered barely audibly.
"It is not for eleven-year-old boys to decide what must be done when irregularities happen! Especially if people's lives are at stake! Do you understand?!" Arthur spoke firmly, his voice ringing through the room.
Balan nodded quietly.
Arthur leant back in his chair.
"Now Balan, let us discuss your punishment."
Balan's eyes instantly fixed on Arthur, a fire suddenly ablaze in them. Punishment?! He had just saved Tristan's life!
Tristan chuckled inwardly when he saw it happen.
"For your blatant disregard of the rules you will receive a sound beating," Arthur said sternly.
Tristan saw the boy's anger rising rapidly. Balan's eyes were getting darker by the second.
"Normally the task to beat you would fall to Tristan. But since you saved his life today, I will punish you myself," Arthur stated with a tone of finality.
Balan now positively fumed at the dubious honour that was bestowed upon him.
Tristan bit back a grin. He did feel some compassion for the boy. It was easy to understand that the boy had gotten carried away by his analysis of the man in the tree. However, Balan should have reported a lot sooner. In fact, the boy had not reported at all! Not even after he had shot the Woad! There was no excuse for this carelessness.
"Come here, Balan!" Arthur ordered.
Balan was reluctant to accept his beating. He angrily took off his leather vest and knelt on the floor, waiting for Arthur's belt to hit his back. But to his shock, Arthur's strong hands grabbed his tunic and pulled him face down across his lap! Tristan noticed that the boy's eyes almost popped out of his head in anger and humiliation.
Earlier, Tristan had shared with Arthur that Balan passionately hated being taken across anyone's knee. The humiliation was a worse punishment for the boy than lashes on his back. Tristan knew that Balan was afraid of the belt and that the lashes did hurt him. But the boy's willingness to endure the pain made it less of a functional punishment, forcing Tristan to hit much harder than he was willing to.
Therefore he preferred taking the boy across his knee. He hit the boy hard enough to make it a real punishment. But most of its effect was achieved by Balan's own fuss and shame.
Arthur had agreed with him.
Balan - at present - clearly did not.
"If this is what I get each time I save a person's life, I will make sure not to do it again!" Balan seethed, kicking the floor in frustration.
"I think Arthur should take your breeches down for that," Tristan reprimanded sternly, handing Arthur the wooden practice sword.
Balan instantly swallowed his words and remained quiet, but his eyes were still blazing. A little later he lay shamefacedly across Arthur's lap, his buttocks sore.
Arthur helped the boy to his feet.
"Balan, what you did was not wrong," he said kindly. "If you ever see a Woad aiming an arrow for one of your brothers, you have my permission to shoot him."
He placed a firm hand on the boy's shoulder.
"All I ask of you is that you follow the rules. And to report next time if you spot a potential danger."
Balan had to fight down a lot of anger, shame and humiliation before he managed to make himself look into Arthur's eyes and nod that he understood.
Arthur approvingly laid his hand on Balan's head.
"I'm glad that you agree, Balan. Remember what I told you by the river: We have to work as a team. Don't fight the enemy on your own."
Balan stared at the floor, wondering if he would always be willing to follow that order.
Arthur smiled.
"Now run or you'll be late for supper. I wish to speak with Tristan for a moment."
When Balan had closed the door behind him, Tristan stared pointedly at his future commander.
"The boy should become a scout, Arthur."
Arthur nodded.
"I agree with you. He has talent, even though he is yet untrained. I will speak with Ruccius tonight. You may begin his training as soon as you think is right for him."