A/N 10 years on since I began this story and I'm back! I could never quite forget Balan and Tristan. ~Josje

29 Cavalry Training

For Balan, the following months were immensely enjoyable. He spent most of his days doing what he liked best: Riding his horse with his bow in his hands, shooting targets. On some days he could almost imagine himself back in Sarmatia.

For cavalry practice the Romans had placed thirty colour-coded targets on a large field near the fort. Mounted archers galloped in varying formations across this 'target field' while a trainer shouted out colours that had to be hit. Tristan took Balan and Galahad to the target field on their first day of cavalry training. It was a warm September afternoon and no-one else was there. Balan and Galahad dismounted and sat down in the grass, allowing their horses to roam while Tristan instructed them in the basics of skirmishing.

The Roman cavalry could operate alone. But their main task was to assist the deadly and highly efficient Roman infantry. The Roman infantry, foot soldiers with large shields and short swords, were some of the best trained and most disciplined soldiers in Europe. Their skill and defence were so great that the Roman army rarely suffered more than a few casualties during battles, whereas the casualties of the enemy could run into the hundreds or even thousands.

The cavalry's task was to harass the front line and flanks of the enemy. Mounted archers launched numerous surprise attacks, riding towards the enemy at full speed, shooting volleys of arrows and then retreating as fast as they had come, often shooting backwards at the enemy while their horses galloped back to safety behind Roman front lines. This was called 'skirmishing' and it was repeated many times in order to break down the enemy's morale and order. Other tasks delegated to the cavalry were scouting the area, delivering messages and chasing down any fleeing opponents if the enemy was defeated.

The cavalry itself was divided into heavy cavalry and light cavalry. Heavy cavalry consisted of more experienced and stronger knights who, after skirmishing, dismounted and joined the melee for man-to-man combat. Light cavalry consisted of younger, less experienced knights, who kept themselves out of the fray and shot arrows at the enemy from a distance. If light cavalry ran out of arrows, they retreated. They were also responsible for retrieving the wounded from the battlefield and returning them to safety behind Roman lines.

Tristan pointed at the targets and explained to the boys how to simulate skirmishing for practice. Then the three of them mounted up. Tristan rode to the edge of the field. Balan and Galahad urged their horses to a large oak tree some two hundred yards away. Here they waited for Tristan's signal.

"This is it," Balan whispered excitedly. He patted his horse on the neck.

Galahad shot him a sideways glance and grinned. "At least we're not stuck in the fort," he agreed.

In the distance Tristan raised his arm. The boys grasped their bows and galloped at full speed towards the target field. As soon as they reached it, Tristan bellowed, "Blue!" Balan and Galahad looked around frantically, searching among the targets for the wooden plates that had been attached to them. Each plate had been marked with two different colours and the boys aimed their arrows for targets with a blue mark. As soon as they believed they had hit them all, they turned their horses and rode back to the tree as fast as they could.

Panting, the twelve-year-old and fifteen-year-old exchanged exhilarated grins. This was fun!

Tristan beckoned them back to the target field. When they reached him, the scout commented, "Balan, you missed two targets. Galahad three." He pointed at two blue targets on the edge of the field, which neither Balan nor Galahad had noticed. "Missed targets are living foes who can kill your brothers, or you. Try not to miss any," Tristan chided. He made them collect their arrows, then sent them back to the tree.

Soon the boys galloped towards the target field again, and Tristan bellowed, "Green!" This time Galahad got them all. Balan overlooked one. Tristan praised Galahad and sent Balan a glare. "Pay attention, boy," he admonished. "Fetch your arrows, both of you. Then get back to the tree."

Balan was having so much fun that he let his focus slip. More than once he overlooked a target or two, but he had a bright smile on his face all afternoon. He moved as one with his horse, the wind whipped through his hair and his eyes shone with excitement as he tried to hit the targets as fast as he could. Tristan chuckled inwardly to see Balan like this. But it didn't stop him from reprimanding the boy each time he overlooked a target. "This is not a game, boy!" he chided sternly.

Galahad, on the other hand, was fanatical to the point that it made him angry. The 15-year-old was never satisfied and had a grim expression on his face all through their training. Whenever he missed a target he wasted a lot of time muttering angrily to himself. More than once Tristan had to admonish him to stop indulging in his anger and get back to practice.

Though Balan's lack of focus annoyed the scout – he knew the boy could do much better! – Tristan privately preferred Balan's lighter mood. That night when they returned to their room, Tristan chastised Balan for his lack of focus and firmly reprimanded him. But that didn't stop Balan from fervently looking forward to their next training. He loved this!

The following day Tristan used a different strategy with the boys. He turned their training into a game. He awarded Balan and Galahad points for each target that they hit and additional points were given for how close they struck to the target's center. He also awarded points to the boy who was first to get back to the oak tree after hitting all targets. This had the desired effect: Balan paid more attention and made sure to hit all of his targets. Galahad lightened up a little and the boys continually teased and challenged each other.

Satisfied with their improvement, Tristan decided that they were ready for the next step. He pointed towards the targets. "These targets are enemy warriors. Each of them can kill you. They may be armed with swords, axes, slings or bows. Keep a horse length away from all targets, and don't turn your back on any of them if you are within four horse lengths, or you'll die. Try again."

The boys hesitated. Tristan could see their minds at work."Go!" he admonished. The boys rode back to the tree, and Tristan saw them shooting uncertain glances over their shoulders. He laughed inwardly. He raised his arm, signaling for the boys to 'attack'.

By the end of that day, Galahad sat on his horse with a disgruntled look on his face and Balan was exhausted. Not once had they managed to shoot all targets without 'getting killed'. Whenever one of them passed too near a target or turned their back on one, Tristan called them out. "Balan! You die!" he bellowed. Balan swore and turned his horse around to return to Tristan, who sat on his horse on the edge of the field. Galahad tried with all his might to complete this round. But before long, Tristan bellowed: "Galahad! Dead!" Galahad angrily threw away his bow and remaining arrows. It cost him a stern reprimand from Tristan and six rounds of running on foot around the target field.

"Never throw your weapons away!" Tristan growled.

"What does it matter if I am dead?!" Galahad retorted hotly.

But when Tristan approached him with a threatening glare, Galahad hurried away to do his penalty rounds.

After a week of hard work, Tristan was reasonably satisfied with the boys' progress. When Balan and Galahad arrived on the target field, they were surprised to see several man-high 'towers', made of bales of straw, standing between the targets. Balan quietly waited for Tristan to explain. But Galahad could not contain his curiosity. "What are those bales doing there?" he asked the scout. Tristan ignored him and continued his preparations, piling up a few more bales of straw and positioning them between the targets on the field.

Finally the scout returned to the boys. "See those bales of straw?" he pointed. "Those are your allies."

"You mean the other knights?" Balan asked.

"Sarmatians, Romans, Britons, civilians, anyone on our side whom you do not want to shoot," Tristan replied. "Never shoot at a target when your allies stand in between. You don't want to kill them."

Balan and Galahad nodded that they understood. Tristan beckoned them closer and put a hand on either boy's shoulder. He gave them a stern look. "This is not a game, boys. If you do it wrong, you could kill one of our men. If either of you shoot an ally, I will beat you." He pointed at Balan's wooden practice sword, which sat in Tristan's quiver. Balan swallowed. Galahad looked incredulous. "Yes, you as well," Tristan threatened. "I want no mistakes, from either of you."

Balan and Galahad were so determined not to shoot allies, that they made it through two hours of practice without needing a beating. However, both boys overlooked several targets and Galahad backed his horse straight into an enemy target, knocking it down. A bit embarrassed about their poor performance, the boys awaited Tristan's verdict after their final round.

Tristan frowned at them and shook his head. "Well done for keeping your brothers alive," he said sardonically. "But you will have to do better. Getting yourselves killed and allowing your enemy to live, will not help your brothers survive." Balan and Galahad glanced at each other. Balan felt stupid and he noticed that Galahad blushed a deep shade of crimson.

"It was only our first time. We'll do better tomorrow, won't we Balan?" Galahad said defiantly.

"You'd better, or you'll pay" Tristan replied ominously.

In the weeks that followed, Tristan pushed them hard to perform better. Neither of the boys escaped the bite of the practice sword – much to Galahad's chagrin – but they each improved a lot. The presence of the sword in Tristan's quiver made the boys highly alert and attentive while they worked to hit their targets. As weeks passed, this alert state of mind gradually became natural for them. Galahad and Balan got used to needing eyes everywhere while shooting enemy targets and they steadily got better. Finally – the sword had not left Tristan's quiver for a week – Tristan allowed them to join the light cavalry for practice.

Pelleas, Nerwic, Beril, Aggs, Sidain, Lanolan and Agloval, all aged between 17 and 19, had plenty of experience on the battlefield already. Balan watched in awe as the older boys thundered across the target field in varying formations, rapidly shooting targets but never hitting each other. Bedivere was overseeing their training and he ordered Balan and Galahad to join the ranks. Balan glanced at Tristan. He felt nervous. Though he had never hit Galahad during practice, there would be seven more riders moving around at top speed this time. What if he hit one of them? Tristan looked away and ignored him.

"Hurry up, Balan!" Bedivere admonished, for the older boys and Galahad had already reached the tree. Balan kicked his horse into a gallop and joined them. Agloval pointed him to the end of the line. Then Bedivere raised his arm and off they went! Together with the other boys Balan thundered towards the target field. He vaguely heard Bedivere and Tristan bellow "Red!" Passing between the targets at full speed he looked around for red marks. Each of the boys had to shoot three targets, then ride on to the other side. He had only managed to hit one target when he saw the rest of the boys riding away and he followed them quickly. The older boys regrouped and formed another line on the other side of the field. Again Bedivere raised his arm. Balan urged his horse forward and this time he saw that each boy took his own path between the targets, quickly scanning the plates, shooting if the colour was correct, and then riding on. It went so fast, Balan reached the other side and had not spotted a single black mark. He followed the older boys to the oak tree, where they waited for orders from their trainers.

Bedivere and Tristan went around the target field, checking the arrows that had hit the targets. All arrows were marked with three painted bands around the shaft. Every knight had his own colour code to identify his arrows, thus the trainers knew who had made each shot. A few arrows had missed their goals and lay in the grass, for which the shooters were reprimanded. But the worst punishment was for Aggs, who had hit a target of the wrong colour. Bedivere took off his belt and whipped Aggs on the spot.

"That could have been one of our own men!" Bedivere snarled angrily. "Pay attention before you shoot!"

Balan sat uncomfortably on his horse. He knew that he had hit the right target, but he had only hit one. Not a total of six, like the others. Bedivere praised Lanolan and Sidain for their aim – both boys had hit all of their targets close to the center.

"Balan, one arrow dead center. Well done!" Bedivere praised.

The other boys cheered and Agloval thumped him on the back.

"But next time I will beat you for each target that you miss!" Bedivere added sternly. "One target is not enough!"

Balan felt himself turn crimson. He felt Tristan's gaze on him and looked away.

By the end of that afternoon, Balan felt very uncomfortable on his horse indeed! Bedivere had cracked his belt across Balan's breeches so often that it was painful to move. But Balan refused to shoot if he wasn't absolutely certain. And he was getting better. In the last few runs he had hit four targets. One time he had even hit five, but then he had been too late out of the target field and Tristan had called him out. "Balan! You die!" he had bellowed, and Balan had been forced to run penalty rounds around the target field.

Galahad had managed to hit six targets with each double run through the target field. But the 15-year-old was very erratic in his aim, sometimes barely hitting the edge of the target. Whereas Balan never hit far from the middle. Galahad had also been called out a few times for 'dying'. All in all, Tristan was proud of his young charges. Their first training with the cavalry hadn't been bad at all.

That evening Balan sleepily followed Tristan to the knights' quarters. Upon entering their room, Balan took off his vest, kicked off his boots and immediately crawled under his covers. Tristan sat down in his chair by the fire and took out his dagger to polish. "Well done, boy," he praised kindly. But Balan didn't hear it. He was sound asleep.