When Choke returned to the courtyard, Brother Barrelmender was in mix, training Pekot’s Bushrats with Sergeant Neil and the men. Barrelmender had girded his loins with his robes and was sparring with a man, a borrowed roundshield in one hand and his staff held like a spear in the other. Barrelmender had worked up a good sweat, and the solider was having a tough time of it.
Across the courtyard, the main group of trainees had paired up into basic footwork and thrust and block drills with sheild and spear. Alongside that, Sergeant Neil and his men, with Knuckle and Barrelmender, were pulling men out for intensive one-on-one sparring.
Choke could see that his men had come a long way. Of course, more than half of them were undersized and generally of the sickly sort. There was no fixing that. They had been the dregs of the levy for a reason. But, even so, they were managing the basics well enough. As well, of that undersized group, there were a couple of standouts. Rabbit, in particular, was throwing himself into the training with an almost frenzied gusto.
Of the group, the actual bushrats were taking to the training very well. Corporals Dom and Hardmod were both tough men, hardened through years of forest survival. There were others like them amongst the men. While spear and shield fighting was completely new to them, they were athletic and capable individuals. Choke was pleased to see that they seemed to be earnestly training.
Of course, the true standout was Corporal Osgar. He was of normal height, but burly. A natural brawler, he had brought with him a variety of knives and daggers, as well as a thick-bladed wood chopper that would serve well as a sort of shortsword. Like the others, spear and shield fighting had been new to him, but he had taken to it like a fish into water. Of everyone there, only Sergeant Neil was better than Osgar with the roundshield. In his hand, his shield was a weapon that Osgar was legitimately dangerous with; punching with the center boss, or chopping with the edge.
Pleased, Choke took some time riding around the training, surveilling them from horseback.
“Lieutenant Pekot!” Barrelmender barked at him.
“Yes, Brother!” Choke wheeled his horse and approached him.
Barrelmender’s man was on the ground, rubbing his shin with an agonized look.
“You are a properly trained horseman, yes?” Barrelmender asked, ignoring the groaning man at his feet.
“Yes, Brother.”
“Good. Perhaps we should incorporate that now. Sergeant Neil! Form up with your men! Lieutenant Pekot is going to take passes at you with his lance. Show the men how to defend against that.”
“Yes, Brother,” Sergeant Neil answered with a snappy salute.
“Our men here!” Barrelmender bellowed. “Take some water if you need, and sit down over there. Pay close attention to what Sergeant Neil and his men do! Being scum, your natural inclination with horse will be to scatter and run like rabbits. That is the worst thing you can do! Sergeant Neil shall now show you why even heavy cavalry fear properly defending spearmen. Move!”
The men all hurried to get over to the well to take a drink. However, Barrelmender’s man on the ground was slow to get up.
“You! Enough malingering! You act as if I broke that leg. Even if I had, you should not have dropped your shield and spear as you have. Pathetic! Defend yourself, wretch!” Barrelmender shouted. He swung his staff and gave the man a crack on the wrist.
The man yelped in pain tried to roll away.
“Defend yourself, I said! Shield! Shield! Shield!” Barrelmender barked, poking the man in the side with the end of his staff at each exclamation.
With good footwork, Barrelmender circled the man as he poked, digging into him. Flailing, the fellow finally got a hold of his shield and managed to raise it up to defend himself.
“Finally, man! How many times over would you have been killed if I were a foe! Always be prepared to defend yourself! Now, up! Up! Walk it off, wretch!”
Choke left Barrelmender to continue berating the man. He fetched his blunted practice lance and horseman’s kite shield before mounting up again. Then he put Nike through some basic paces to get his spirit up properly.
The drill with Sergeant Neil and his men was basic enough. Even with just five of them, they were able to crouch down into a rough hedgehog behind their shields, with their spears poking out to menace Choke with. Riding by, Choke could easily avoid the shorter spears, but he had no real target.
“You see, men?” Barrelmender shouted, stepping out in front of the men watching the drill. “You see? Together, in formation, they fend him off. Now imagine the carnage if they were to scatter and run. Even in a full charge, the first horseman may break into the shield wall, but both he and his horse shall surely die. Spears take down the horse, and the rider falls into the line of footmen to be held down and dispatched at leisure. Some spearmen will die, yes, pierced by lance or crushed by horse, but the cavalry charge will be broken. But if the men do not hold their line, if they scatter and run, then surely they will die. Understand it! Now, watch how they position their spears,” Barrelmender said, crouching down with his own shield in front, his staff in hand. “Butt into the ground, held securely. Horse or man will take the full brunt of their own charge upon your point. That is how!”
With the demonstration done, Barrelmender, Knuckle, and Sergeant Neil put all the men into formation in the center of the courtyard. They practiced getting in and out of shieldwalls and hedgehogs while Choke circled, menacing them with his practice lance. Remembering his own training at the hands of the Brothers at the Pekot orphanage, and knowing that Barrelmender was there to heal any injuries the men sustained, Choke decided to match Barrelmender in training intensity. When men were slow to get into formation, or failed to guard themselves properly with their shields, Choke gave them the lance. Of course, he pulled his blows and avoided head shots. Even so, he delivered brutal lessons to several of them. It was a satisfying outlet for his stress.
“Good, Pekot! Good!” Barrelmender called as Choke drove one straggling man into a skidding face-plant with a well-timed blow in between his shoulder blades.
At the end of the training session, three men did require magical healing from Barrelmender for an assortment of broken ribs, arms, and a dislocated shoulder. Barrelmender provided the healing with simple prayers to Stron and a touch to the injured areas. The men clustered around murmured in amazement as they praised Stron for his benevolence. Choke took note of this reaction as he realized that this must be the first time many of these men had ever experienced divine healing from a cleric.
“You see, men?” Choke said. “We train hard, as we fight hard, and we may be injured, but Stron takes care of us. We must simply have faith and we shall find ourselves right.”
“In this life, or the next,” muttered Barrelmender.
“Ahm. Yes,” Choke coughed, as a different sort of murmur rose from the men within earshot.
When Barrelmender had finished healing the men, he looked to Choke:
“You are done at the church?” he asked.
“Yes, Brother. For the time being. Thank you.”
Barrelmender nodded. “I shall go there, then. When Otilla returns, come and make a full report to me immediately.”
“Yes, Brother.”
With the men having had a good break during the healing session, Choke next decided to have them practice getting in and out of marching formation into a shield wall with their archers and slingers deployed. He had Sergeant Neil and his men help with coordination and guidance. They were well into this when the call of Pinch’s bandit horn rang out from up the north ridge.
Choke froze in alarm. He unclenched when two more short calls rang out in the cadence of their all-clear whistle.
“Asshole,” he muttered. He wheeled Nike and addressed the men: “That will be Otilla and Sergeant Nikolas returning from scouting. Sergeant Theodas: please join me. If you don’t mind, Sergeant Neil, please continue training the men as you see fit. Nothing too strenuous now, though; they have already done good work this morning.”
“Yes, sir!” Sergeant Neil saluted, as Knuckle stepped away from the men to follow Choke to the north gate.
There were no soldiers on the gate, so Choke and Knuckle were alone. Choke tethered Nike to the base of the watch tower and he and leaned against the gate in the shade.
“The men are coming along very well. You’ve done a great job with them. Thank you, Knuckle,” Choke said, clapping him warmly on the shoulder.
“Thanks, man!” Knuckle said, looking pleased as he returned a friendly forearm bump that moved Choke a fair bit. “Yeah, they’re alright. I mean, I don’t know how they’ll hold up in a real fight, but it’s gotta be better than before, right? And, I’ll be damned, but Barrelmender’s actually doing it! He’s almost acting like a real Brother.”
“I agree. He has stepped up.”
“Yeah, we best watch ourselves. Much more of that and he’s gonna start getting up in our shit about something or another. Ye know, like actually thinking that he’s in control around here,” Knuckle laughed.
“Yes, well, if he is correct, then he probably ought to be.”
Knuckle snorted. Then he pointed down Main Street into town. “Hey, here comes yar honey. Done at the church and heading back to spastic wrangling, I guess.”
Choke’s heart leapt as he looked up and saw Mariola heading their way. As was her habit now, she had her bow and quiver over her shoulder. She met his gaze squarely and quickened her pace towards him, her bearing resolute. Choke desperately wished that he could discern what that might mean.
“Oh, wow,” Knuckle said quietly into Choke’s ear. “She’s coming to get ye. Look at her! Hot to trot. Hey man, there’s probably time; if ye wanna go around the wall with her so she can give ye a quick Shasta special, I’ll stand lookout for ye.”
Choke grimaced before shooting Knuckle an aggrieved look.
“I’m kidding, man! Kidding!” Knuckle laughed, giving Choke another heavy bump. “Lighten up, man! But, seriously, I’ll step off so’s ye can have a word. She’s got something on her mind, and I aint one to cock block. Get it done, man!”
Knuckle slapped Choke’s shoulder and moved back towards the men at their training. He tipped his helmet to Mariola as they passed each other.
“Ma’am,” he said.
“Good morning, Sergeant,” she returned.
Choke and Mariola stood at the threshold of the gate facing each other, just outside of arm’s reach.
“Yes,” she finally said.
“What?”
“I said, yes, you silly boy. I’ll marry you. It’s crazy, and I don’t approve of it, but that’s the way of it, I guess. We’re not gonna be able to keep our hands off each other. And Barrelmender’s found his iron, it seems. He aint gonna flex. He’s put his hand in and meddled and that’s just the way of it. So, yes, I’ll do it.”
“Mariola, that’s—” Choke said, beginning to step in to embrace her.
“No!” she interrupted, taking a step back as she raised both her palms up to ward him off. “No. We can’t touch. Not until we’re wed. The iron drunk has spoken. If he’s getting his way on this, then we’d better do it proper. This afternoon. After lunch, he said. We’ll get married. And then I’ll move up here. Alright?”
“Yes, of course! Alright!”
“Silly boy,” she said quietly, wistfully, more to herself. “See you soon.”
Then she was gone, out the gate and down the trail to her wards, the Holy Fire Wailers.
Knuckle was soon back at Choke’s side.
“Man, what the fuck did she say to ye? She didn’t even let ye touch her, but ye cheered right up.”
“I’m getting married, Knuckle! We’re getting married!” Choke’s voice rang out in joy. He drew Knuckle into a strong embrace, jostling him this way and that.
Many of the men training in the courtyard stopped what they were doing to gape over at Choke and Knuckle.
“The fuck? Married? Married!” Knuckle yelled. “The fuck, man! How the fuck? What? That aint— No, man! Fuck, Choke.”
Choke released Knuckle and hopped around like a gleeful child for a spell. Knuckle stared off into the sky with a grimace as he tried to untangle what he had just learned. He soon managed it.
“Ah, shit. Barrelmender. Barrelmender, right? He’s decided to be a real Brother again, right? Shit! I fuckin knew it!”
“That’s right, Knuckle. We’re all stepping up! And I’m getting married today!”
Muse Vassal 