24 The tavern
Balan tried to ignore the inquisitive looks from patrons and soldiers as he sat down beside Tristan in the knights' usual corner.
It was unusual for young boys like him to be in the tavern at this hour. The first two hours after supper younger boys and recruits – Roman and Sarmatian – were still allowed into the tavern. But later in the evening boys under seventeen were only allowed in if supervised by an older soldier, trainer or knight.
"Listen," Tristan said in his ear. "I want you to remember everything that you see tonight. I will ask you about it after we leave."
Balan nodded and let his eyes wander through the tavern, determined to do a good job. As he scanned the tables, however, he soon realized that there was so much to be seen, he doubted he would be able to memorize it all.
Noticing the overwhelmed look on Balan's face, Tristan grinned into his mug.
"Breathe and focus," he said encouragingly.
Balan took a few deep breaths. His mind cleared and he felt himself calming down.
Once again he scanned the tavern and tried to take in everything that was happening. His eyes rapidly shot from left to right and back again in an attempt to keep up with the incredible bustle. Men laughed, talked, argued, and drank. They played the dice, sang, stood up, sat down, walked around, and serving maids zig-zagged in between… Balan gasped. How was he going to remember it all?!
Balan suppressed the nauseating panic that bubbled in his stomach and determinedly bit his lip. He would at least give it a try.
Tristan observed that the boy's cheeks and neck turned red and that Balan's breathing became shallow and ragged as his eyes shot around the tavern.
"Breathe more deeply, boy," Tristan reminded kindly.
Balan wiped his brow and looked up at the scout.
"It's too much! How can I ever remember it all?!" he asked desperately.
He was half-convinced that he had failed already. How could Tristan see even the smallest of details in situations as these?! How did he manage to see the significant ones?
"Look around and get familiar with your surroundings first," Tristan said calmly. "Get an idea of the number of people around you and where they are seated. Then get a rough idea of who they are. Look at their faces and their behaviour. Find something to remember them by."
Balan gave Tristan a questioning look.
But Tristan merely took a swig from his drink and pointed into the tavern.
"Go on!" the scout's dark brown eyes admonished.
Balan bit back a sigh and looked around the tavern once more. He knew what the tavern looked like! Well, at least during breakfast or supper. Or if it was nearly empty, as it was during the day. But late at night the tables were occupied by different people. The knights were still at their usual tables, but the soldiers and patrons were not.
He watched until he had a rough idea of where everybody was seated.
Then he began to look at the faces, starting with his own table. Dagonet was drinking ale and listening to a conversation between Brumear and Gaheris. Bedivere and Lamorak were watching Gawain and Pellinore hold a knife-throwing competition. And Agravaine was peeling scabs off an old wound. Tristan was eating an apple.
At the next table, Lancelot held a beautiful young woman on his lap. He was kissing her passionately and let his hands roam freely down the lady's back. Balan frowned. He was certain that Lancelot did not have a wife. Perhaps she was his girl then?
Momentarily distracted, he looked around the tavern to find Agloval and spotted him on one of the benches near the bar. Agloval was holding hands with Ella, his girl. Their heads were very close as if they were whispering. Ella seemed very happy.
When he looked around the tavern more closely, he noticed that quite a number of men were enjoying the company of women. He gasped when he realized that several of these women wore rather low-necked dresses, revealing more than he had ever seen of a woman before.
"Seems like our young scout knows exactly where to keep his eyes, Tristan!" Lancelot grinned.
"He's not a scout yet," Tristan replied while flicking Balan's ear. "And he never will be if he allows himself to be distracted this easily."
Balan's cheeks turned red.
"Close your mouth, boy," Lancelot teased.
"You're too young to be drooling about women yet," Bedivere admonished with a smile.
All the knights laughed.
"How many people do you see in the tavern tonight?" Tristan asked Balan, wanting the boy to pay attention to his surroundings again.
"Does he know how to count, then?" Brumear asked in surprise.
Balan nodded to indicate that he could and began to look around to estimate the number of heads.
Brumear returned to his ale.
(Later, in Tristan's room.)
"How many men did you see?"
"Forty-three."
"How many women?"
"Thirteen."
Tristan raised an eyebrow.
"A kitchen maid," Balan explained hastily. "She didn't come into the tavern where the other women were, but she came out behind the bar for a moment."
Tristan nodded approvingly.
"How many men with swords?"
Balan gaped at the scout. He did not know. He had not thought to look for swords.
"Daggers?"
Balan slowly shook his head.
"Large axes?"
Balan snorted.
"No man would take a large battle axe into the tavern!" he grinned. "Vanora would kick them out!"
"So you do pay attention?" Tristan teased. He kicked off his boots and sat down on his bed.
"Knowing the weapons available to those around you might save your life, boy. Every man carrying a weapon might become your enemy when he gets drunk."
Balan nodded thoughtfully and placed his belt and breeches on the foot of his bed.
"How many fights occurred in the time you were in the tavern?"
"Three."
"How many men involved?"
"Four in the first, three in the second, twelve in the third."
Tristan pulled off his shirt. The boy was good!
"Who was the highest ranking Roman in the tavern tonight?"
Balan slipped under his bed covers, searching through his memories.
"I don't know," he confessed, feeling slightly embarrassed.
Tristan blew out the candle and got into his bed as well.
Balan stared into the darkness. He felt positively exhausted, but his mind was buzzing, still trying to find details in the things he had seen that night.
"You've done well enough for a first time, boy," Tristan spoke from across the room. "Now sleep. You'll have to work hard tomorrow."
In the following weeks Balan worked hard to remember more of what happened around the tavern. He was steadily getting better, but Tristan's questions became more specific every day and it always turned out he had missed a detail here or there.
Tristan's advice to get familiar with his surroundings first had helped him a great deal. Once he knew which movements and which people to expect in which corners of the tavern, it was easier to notice anything out of the ordinary.
But recently Tristan had begun to include a new kind of observing in his training. And sadly, it was one that Balan was not very fond of.
"The red-haired soldier?"
Tristan shook his head.
"Next to him."
"The fat one?"
Tristan nodded.
"Keep an eye on him tonight. On him, and the men he has dealings with. Nothing else."
Balan sighed. Of all available things to observe in the tavern, Tristan had to pick a boring, stupid Roman. Even at first sight he felt a strong dislike for the large soldier with his cold, unfriendly eyes.
Balan sulkily kicked the ground. He was getting tired of observing futilities! He'd much rather spend his evenings with the other boys! Tristan did give him part of the afternoon off if he was to train in the tavern at night. But since Pelleas and Galahad had to train throughout the afternoon, it usually meant that he was left on his own.
The positive side was that he got to spend more time with Vanora and her children. His cooking was getting better and he had earned himself plenty of honey biscuits by doing chores in the kitchen.
"Pay attention, Balan," Tristan said in his ear.
Balan reluctantly looked back at his bulky object of observation.
The Roman spent most of his time drinking and playing dice. As he watched the sheep bones roll across the table over and over again, Balan slowly sipped his apple juice and was bored out of his wits. However, he refrained from shooting glances at the scout. He knew well that complaining about his situation – even without words – would be very unwise. Tristan never tolerated unfounded complaints; Balan had regretted each and every time he had tried to complain his way out of discomfort. On most occasions Tristan had wordlessly prolonged – or worsened – whatever Balan had complained about, to teach him a lesson.
Unwilling to risk another long night with a boring subject to observe, Balan went through his standard routine again: The Roman carried a gladius and two daggers, he was probably one of the lower ranking soldiers and he carried no other personal items. His face was red, his eyes small and his shoulders and upper arms were larger than Bors's. He had a large scar on his left forearm and a scab from a recent arrow wound above his left eye.
The arrow must have grazed the man's forehead, Balan thought for the seventh time. The man's weakest points were his sides, his armpits, his neck and the back of his knees. If it would come to a fight, this was where he would have to aim his attack.
Apparently the Roman sensed that he was being watched, for he looked up and stared directly into Balan's eyes. Balan returned the man's gaze, unwilling to lower his eyes. The Roman frowned, but Balan kept holding his glare. Eventually the man shrugged and went back to his game.
A little while later Balan began to realize that the Roman was playing dice with a very specific group of people. He had two companions who remained at his table for most of the evening. But the other men, most of them clearly eager to play dice with the Roman, had each spent quite some time trying to get the fat soldier's attention, some even to win his favour, before being invited to the Roman's table. It occurred more than once that a soldier joined the Roman's table and was dismissed not long after with a wave of the Roman's hand.
He looked up at Tristan questioningly, but Tristan only shook his head and said, "Figure it out."
Before another hour had passed, Balan realized that the men weren't playing dice for real. They did play the dice game, but money was only exchanged if the fat soldier won.
He looked up at Tristan again, but the scout's face remained impassive.
Vanora brought him another jug filled with apple juice and Balan stubbornly kept staring at the Roman, at a loss how to discover what was going on.
He had sat like this for about half an hour, not noticing anything beyond what he had already seen, when one of the companions – the red-head – looked his way. The Romans put their heads together and then the fat soldier looked at Balan as well. Slowly, the man rose from his table. He ordered a drink from one of the barmaids and sauntered to the knights' table.
Tristan motioned to Dagonet. The tall knight stood up and sat down beside Balan. Bors, standing behind the boy, looked up while fingering his blade. Bedivere reached for a jug of ale, also moving a little closer to Balan and Tristan.
The Roman frowned, taken aback by his opposition.
"Is he yours?" he asked Tristan bluntly.
Tristan stared into the Roman's eyes.
"Speak, Roman," he said coolly.
"If you want him to live, tell him to keep his eyes to himself," the Roman said slowly. "He's been watching me all night."
He made to walk away.
"Oi! Roman pig!" Bors called after him.
The Roman turned around, a look of fury on his face.
Bors folded his arms and nodded to Dagonet, who pleasantly smiled up at the Roman.
"I believe there is a misunderstanding," Dagonet said kindly. "The boy means you no harm. Nor does anyone else here."
The Roman snorted in utter disbelief.
"You've been playing dice all night. The boy wants to learn it, but Lancelot here won't teach him," Tristan stated, his face unreadable.
Balan held his breath.
"Nor will any of us," Dagonet continued calmly. "He is too young. He would only be wasting his pay. But apparently, with you playing the dice so near our table tonight, he must have taken his chance."
The Roman frowned disdainfully.
"Keep the boy in check and teach him some manners then, or there'll be trouble!"
"What did you say that for?!" Balan asked Dagonet indignantly as soon as the Roman had stalked away. "I know how to play dice and I would not waste my pay! I am not even allowed to keep it myself!"
Dagonet soothingly placed one of his big hands on Balan's shoulder. But before the giant could speak, Tristan got up and said: "Time to go to bed, boy."
Knowing better than to disobey, Balan stood up and wished the others a good night.
"No more looks at the Roman for you tonight, Balan. Not a single one!" Tristan said in his ear.
Dagonet followed them as Tristan led Balan out of the tavern. As they walked past the fat Roman's table, Balan kept his eyes fixed on Tristan's back. But he did not fail to notice the dangerous sideways glare that Tristan sent in the Roman's direction.