The sun broke through the blanket of rain clouds that had hovered over the countryside for a full week, lifting mist and spirits alike. Truthfully, it was quite a glorious moment in what hoped to be an equally glorious day. Of course, it helped that Conal was riding next to Sir Derrick on their way into town, and he was actually in charge of the four younger boys for the day. The sense of power and new-found responsibility made him feel a full foot taller. Fortunately, his sense of humor was well developed enough to prevent his head from swelling to the point of exploding. He glanced at Sir Derrick and smiled, remembering the knight's instructions to keep the other boys in line while business was conducted. He knew he would do a good job and make his knight proud. Who would have guessed that John being confined to his bed with a cold would have been such a windfall for Conal?
He breathed deeply, taking in the moist cool air and clearing his head of silly thoughts entertained by mere boys. He was a man now and wanted to prove it to the world. Blaine, Richard, Michael and Seth rode behind Derrick, laughing and poking at each other, trying to keep themselves entertained during the two hour long ride into town. Conal glanced at them patiently, warning them not to get too rambunctious. Amazingly enough, they actually settled down. This was going to be a glorious day.
The center of town was bustling with activity. Wares of all sorts were being bought and sold, bargains made, and agreements sealed with handshakes. Crowds of people milled about on business, each intent on their own errands to pay much mind to anyone else. But the intense bustle of townsfolk could not distract anyone's deepest thoughts from the center of the town. The gallows had been erected. There was to be a hanging today.
Derrick had cautioned all of the boys who were accompanying him into town about the hanging. He did not want them to come to town at all, but circumstances almost demanded it. Besides, he could not protect them from the harshness of life and death forever. They would not stay to see the actual act, but he did not want the boys to get overly excited about the event. He warned Conal most of all to keep the other boys calmed down and focused on their tasks. Conal grimly accepted the responsibility and was determined to make sure things went smoothly with the boys so Derrick could concentrate on his own affairs.
Each of the boys had purchases to make and chores to tend to before the ride home again. Derrick knew they would be kept busy while he wrapped up negotiations for several horses he wanted to purchase. It would not take long, but he needed undisturbed time to seal the deal. He gave Conal a pouch filled with money to be used for the necessary purchases the boys were to make, and left them to tend to their chores and he to his own. Conal herded the boys to the first stop to buy new herbs for medicinals. John was not the only one down with a stuffed head and cough, and the keep's supplies were running low. They loaded the sacks of herbs into saddlebags and moved on to the next errand.
The boys were reasonably well behaved if a little restless, and Conal was very pleased with how the morning was going. With errands and chores complete, the boys were left to their own devices until Derrick completed his purchases. Conal rewarded them all with sweet pastries for a late-morning snack and allowed them to wander the marketplace under his watchful eye.
His gaze wandered to the pen that held several horses owned by the same man Derrick was dealing with. A particularly beautiful young black horse that Conal has been admiring for weeks caught his eye, it's coat shining in the bright sunlight, muscles rippling. It was a gorgeous animal. Conal rubbed its nose and offered it a bit of carrot from a nearby bucket. The horse whiffed in his ear and neighed softly, as if they were carrying on a private conversation. Oh how he would love to have this horse. It was a perfect horse. Strong, sleek, truly magnificent. A marvelous horse. Just the right size for him. Conal allowed his mind to drift briefly, envisioning himself astride such a fine animal, armor shining bright in the sun. He was startled back into the present when he realized did not know where any of the boys were. He jerked around, scanning the town square in a panic. Blaine and Richard looked up from the nearby hay bale they were sitting on, eyeing Conal as if he had just lost his mind.
"Were is Michael? And Seth?" Conal choked out, trying not to sound as alarmed as he felt. The younger boys shrugged their shoulders and jerked their heads in a nondescript "over there somewhere" motion as they finished eating their pastries. Conal scanned through the throngs of people in the square trying to pick the two lost boys out of the crowd. They were nowhere to be found. At least, that is, until Conal looked up. Michael, Seth and a few other boys from the town had found the gallows an irresistible place to play. He started toward the towering structure, calling for them to get down from the high platform. Michael shrugged and hopped down the stairs, making no issue of his brief romp or Conal's alarm. Conal called again to Seth and got no more response for his effort. Panic rose in his voice when he saw that Seth was near the trap door. He ordered the page down for the second time, Seth ignoring him to turn cartwheels and stand on his hands, smiling down at Conal from his vantage point. The smile turned to frozen fear as the trap door was sprung accidentally sprung, and Seth realized he was balancing on air.
Conal screamed Seth's name as he watched him plummet to the ground and dashed to try to catch him. He was too late by far and only managed to be the first one to reach the boy, lying in a heap on the ground, crying and clutching his arm. Conal turned to order Richard to find Sir Derrick, but the knight had heard the commotion and was already at Conal's elbow. Any efforts to calm Seth were lost on the child whose entire existence was focused on the pain in his arm. A man who Derrick recognized as one of the king's healers knelt next to Seth, gently taking the child's arm between warm hands. He probed the misshapen bone line and confirmed that the arm was broken. He briefed Derrick on what would need to be done and pulled needed supplies from a satchel. A cup of watered down wine was produced from among the spectators and the healer mixed a packet of medicines intended to sedate Seth and ease his pain. The boy drank the potion with some protest, making a face at the nasty aftertaste.
Conal sunk down on his haunches, shocked at what was taking place before him. How could he have let this happen? The other three boys stood in the crowd that had gathered, stunned at what they had just witnessed. Derrick seemed to sense their distress and turned away from Seth to gather his charges around him. He rested a comforting hand on Conal's shoulder, quietly reassuring them all that Seth was going to be fine. Michael and Blaine tried to see what was going on as the healer tended to Seth's arm. Seth moaned softly as bone was shifted painfully into place and Derrick and the others were at his side in a heartbeat, concern etched on all their faces. The healer smiled kindly at them and admonished them to give him room to work. The younger boys obediently backed away, but the devil himself could not budge Conal from the injured boy's side. Tears welled up in Seth's eyes as the healer continued to manipulate dislodged bone, and Derrick whispered words of encouragement to him. One last steady and firm pull brought groans of protest from Seth, but satisfied the healer that the arm was set correctly. Derrick wiped tears from Seth's cheek with callused fingers while the healer splinted the arm and wrapped it firmly in strips of clean white cloth.
After much fuss and debate, it was decided that Seth would be taken home rather than lodged in town. A litter was prepared and the sedated boy wrapped in blankets for the trip. The newly purchased horses were tethered, and a very subdued group began their ride toward home.
Conal stayed toward the back of the group, watchful over Seth as he slept. Derrick had not said a word to him about this mishap. Not the smallest of reprimands, not even a warning of punishment to come. Conal was not sure this was a good thing. Michael, Blaine, and Richard settled on galloping a bit ahead to burn off some energy, but were otherwise as quiet as Conal. Derrick could not help but note the stunned and painful silence of the boys, and Conal most of all. He drew his horse back to match the stride of Conal's horse and looked patiently at the boy. Conal fought tears back, not wanting Derrick to see him cry now. Derrick reached across the space between them and clapped Conal on the shoulder.
"Seth is going to be fine Conal. There is no need to worry." Conal nodded, a stray tear falling despite his best efforts.
"It's my fault that he's hurt." Conal nearly choked out the words, still fighting back tears. Derrick shook his head firmly, knowing full well that he would not be able to convince Conal of anything other than what he already thought.
"Conal, Seth disobeyed both our instructions to him. He is the one responsible for his injury. Not you." Conal almost gasped Derrick's response and felt himself well up with anger. Seth was just a little kid. He didn't know any better. Derrick guessed what Conal was thinking by the shocked look on his face.
"Seth is not a helpless little boy who does not know better than to do as he is told. He is ten years old and has served my household for two years. He knew what was expected of him." He gently squeezed his squire's shoulder, trying to drive his point home with the contact.
"We will talk more about how the day went later. For now, keep an eye on the little scamp and try not to worry too much. He will be very sore for a few weeks, but will be as good as new and out causing trouble again before you know it." Derrick nodded assurance to Conal and rode ahead to see what the other boys were up to.
The rest of the journey was quiet and seemed to never end. Seth slept the entire time and hardly stirred when he was settled into his bed. Conal quietly unsaddled his horse and put harness and other equipment away, brushing away a tear or two as he brushed away road dust from his horse's coat. After chores were done, Conal secluded himself in his room hoping to never see anyone again as long as he lived. He felt miserable, and was determined to make the most of it despite what Derrick or anyone else said to console him. Not even a visit from Derrick to discuss the day and reassure Conal that he had done a splendid job that morning did not ease his mood.
Derrick was content to let Conal sulk to himself for awhile, but two missed meals and no sign of him for lessons the next morning prompted the knight to take more direct action. He found Conal still in his nightshirt and staring out his bedroom window, looking as if he had not slept all night. In fact, he didn't. He tossed and turned and stared at shadows dancing on the ceiling, his heart aching for reasons he could not quite understand. Derrick said it was not his fault. His brain knew to accept the verdict as fact, but his heart would not be so readily convinced.
Derrick called out of the door for a servant to bring food, and pulled Conal out of the window embrasure to sit next to him on the high bed.
"Talk to me, Conal." Derrick's voice was patient and kind, but there was little doubt that he expected a response. Conal sighed and hopped off the bed to pace floor. He shrugged his shoulders and looked mournfully at Derrick.
"I don't know what to say, sir." He turned away from the knight, wishing he could just disappear.
"Tell me why you are so distraught. What is bothering you?" Conal snorted at the question, wondering where Derrick was yesterday when all of this happened.
"WHAT DO YOU THINK IS BOTHERING ME?" Conal shouted, but softened immediately at Derrick's rebuking look.
"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to shout." Derrick nodded acceptance of the apology and waited for Conal to continue.
"What happened to Seth was my fault. He could have broken his neck as easily as his arm because I wasn't doing my job. I feel awful. I keep reminding myself about what you said yesterday and that this wasn't my fault. But I just can't shake feeling so guilty about it." Hot tears burned at Conal's eyes and he wiped them away impatiently on the rough linen of his tunic sleeve. Derrick went to the boy and lifted his chin to force eye contact.
"Conal, you did do a good job yesterday. This was the first time you were in charge of all four of those little darlings at once, and you did a commendable job. I have talked to all of them- including Seth. According to them, you were patient with them, you treated them well, you let them wander around without breathing down their necks. You didn't bully them or abuse your authority. You didn't scream at them or treat them like little children. You accomplished everything I asked you to. I consider that a job very well done." Conal felt himself swell with pride at the praise and wanted to believe what Derrick was saying, but the guilt he felt would not be chased away.
"But if I had supervised them better, Seth would not have been hurt." Derrick nodded, understanding his squire's reasoning.
"When you lead a group of men into battle, you have to trust them to follow the battle plan and obey your commands. You can not be everywhere to make sure everyone does as they are supposed to. Just as Seth needs to learn to obey orders, you need to learn to expect them to be obeyed, and to trust your men. Conal, men will die because of decisions you will make some day. They will die because they do what you tell them to do. There is enough guilt and pain in that alone without looking for it elsewhere." Conal hung his head, tears dripping down his nose. As much as he wanted to be a leader some day, he did not like the thought of costing people their lives. Conal was relieved when a servant knocked at the door and brought the tray of food Derrick ordered. Derrick handed Conal a mug of cider and a slice of warm bread smeared thick with soft cheese. The squire nibbled at the bread, settling in to listen to his mentor.
"You were there to make sure errands got taken care of while I was busy. You were there to help the boys follow through on their own responsibilities and to intervene if problems came up. You were there to help each of those boys grow a little and assume a little more responsibility." Derrick took a long draw of cider and bit into a hunk of bread while Conal chewed on what was just said.
"Conal, we are not gods. We try to influence people to follow us, to obey our commands, and hopefully to cooperate with us to achieve a specific goal. We can not control their every move. If I taught you to believe you could, I would be doing you a very grave disservice." Conal bean to understand his knight's point, and nodded slowly.
"If you were careless or inattentive, or gave no care to what the boys were doing, then I would take issue with you about what happened with Seth. Everything I saw, and everything I have heard from them tells me you were observant and mindful of what they were doing and what needed to be done." A lump grew in Conal's throat, and the source of his guilt became suddenly clear to him. He gazed down at the thick carpet at his feet, trying to find the words he needed to tell Derrick what was hurting so much. She shook his head slowly and swallowed hard before he could continue.
"I think that's what I am feeling so bad about, sir." Derrick rubbed Conal's shoulder, encouraging him to continue.
"I guess....I mean....I.... just don't think I....was." Conal stood up and turned to face his mentor and master. Derrick lifted his eyebrow in question of the unfinished thought.
"I....I'm sorry, sir. I guess I just think that I was not paying attention for a few moments. If I had not been so wrapped up in admiring that horse. I forgot where I was. I lost track of what I was supposed to be doing. I....it's just like....what you have been scolding me about so much lately on the training field. I....I let my guard down.... when I needed to be most alert. I'm so sorry, sir!" Tears filled the boys eyes again and he made no effort to stop them from welling over and falling down his cheeks. He folded his arms around Derrick's chest and cried, knight returning the embrace.
"I told you a few days ago that someone could get hurt if you allowed yourself to get distracted like that in battle." Conal nodded through his tears, remembering quite well that very uncomfortable reprimand.
"You got distracted in town yesterday and Seth got hurt." Conal did not say a word, but buried his face deeper into Derrick's tunic and sobbed, not wanting to hear the truth spoken out loud.
"And that is what you feel guilty about." Conal nodded again, feeling Derrick sigh heavily. He hated that sigh. It was a deep deep resigned and disappointed sigh. That sigh usually came before something really unpleasant happened. Conal couldn't figure out if he wanted to hide or celebrate. Derrick pulled the boy away from him and wiped tears from very wet cheeks.
"I knew you had spent some time with that horse. I didn't know how distracted you let yourself get with it. I didn't realize the connection you were making with the incident." Derrick lifted Conal's chin with firm fingers.
"While this does not release Seth from his culpability in the situation, I can understand now why you feel responsible. Unfortunately, Conal, I have to agree somewhat with your assessment. While I doubt your distraction was as extreme as you seem to think it was, I have warned you several times about keeping your mind on what you were doing." Conal nodded, not knowing what else he could say.
"And I also warned you about what was going to start happening if you did not learn to keep your attention focused." Conal whimpered slightly and nodded again.
"Yes, sir. Please, sir. I know I have it coming. I'm ready." He could hardly choke the words out in anything more than a whisper, but he was determined to say them anyway. It was Derrick's turn to nod, and Conal walked slowly to his wardrobe. He retrieved a heavy leather strap and a cane that was kept there for just such occasions as these, and handed his fate into Derrick's hands. Conal unbuttoned his trews and underclothes and pushed them to his knees, baring very white buttocks and thighs. His eyes were fixed on the strap in Derrick's hand, a double thickness of saddle leather so heavy it had almost no bend to it. Even one light swat from it left a painful welt.
Derrick stopped Conal from bending over the end of his bed and pulled his squire firmly over his knee. Conal gasped in surprise at the small change in routine, but allowed himself to be engulfed by the closeness this particular position brought.
The knight boomed fifty hard swats with his firm and callused hand down on Conal's unprotected posterior before the child began to truly squirm and cry out from the pain. Each swat left an angry hand print, each successive mark growing from pink to red to crimson. Derrick lifted the boy to his feet and instructed him to kneel on the chest at the foot of his bed and bend over the footboard, resting his chest on the heavy mattress. Conal obeyed while trying to sop tears off his face, his already tender bottom lifted into the air to receive more punishment. Derrick lifted the strap high and swiped it down hard, knowing if this guilt Conal felt was not purged, he would carry it with him for years to come. He was not merciful at his task, and Conal had to fight to hold the position required. He clutched the bedspread with both fists and heaved his sobs into the heavy fabric, wishing this ordeal would end, knowing he had a long way to go yet. The strap rose and fell a dozen times, leaving as many distinguishable welts on the boy's buttocks. Conal cried more heavily than he ever had from a whipping, but didn't once ask for the punishment to end. He jerked with each stroke, his cries rising and falling with the strap until Derrick knew Conal was near the point he needed to be.
Conal Sobbed and gasped into the fabric he had wound around his hands while Derrick studied the red and throbbing bottom before him. After the all too brief respite, he put the strap down and picked up the cane. He whipped it through the air, causing that distinct whistle well know to all of his squires. Conal flinched at the sound, but held his position.
"Stick your bottom well out Conal." Derrick commanded with no more harshness in his voice than if he were asking for someone to pass the butter. Conal took a deep breath and arched his back, pressing his bottom as high as he could manage. Derrick tapped the battered buttocks with the cane and chose his target. He lifted the cane silently, holding it aloft for a heartbeat, then swung it deep into his squire's behind. A white line appeared on the already red flesh, then quickly turned bright red tinged with purple. Conal jerked forward as the rattan smashed into tight muscle, trying to ease the pain of the stroke. He returned to his position without prompting and Derrick took aim for the next stroke. Conal jerked and moaned at the second and third strokes, but managed to recover on his own. It grew harder each time to thrust his buttocks into the air, but he would grit his teeth and force himself to do it. He knew he needed this. He knew he deserved it.
At the fourth stroke, Conal's resolve vanished like a ship in the fog. Pain seared through his brain and his buttocks felt like it was on fire. Derrick waited patiently for Conal to recover, and cleared his throat at the boy when he did not return to position. Conal sobbed into the bedspread, grasping onto the fabric even harder before he lifted his buttocks back up. Derrick warned him to maintain his position for the remainder of his punishment, and without warning or hesitation thwacked two more very hard strokes into the point where Conal's buttocks met thigh. The boy screamed into his bedclothes and kicked his feet in pain, but did no more than lean forward just a bit. The boy held his position through coughs and tears while Derrick put the punishment implements away. He lifted Conal up slowly and directed the boy to lie on his stomach on the bed. Conal did so willingly and cried himself out until Derrick thought his pillows would be damp for a week. He rubbed his squire's back and the back of his neck, whispering to him how proud he was of him. For trying so hard to be responsible, for owning up to his error, for being conscientious and devoted to his duties. Conal heard very little of what was actually said, but drank in the comfort of his master's touch, grateful for the correction and feeling ten pounds lighter from released guilt. When Conal had calmed down enough to listen, Derrick leaned next to the boy's ear.
"I am very proud of you, Conal. Despite your error yesterday, you did a fine job with the boys." Conal eased himself up and wrapped his arms around Derrick's neck, thanking him for the complement and for the correction. Derrick massaged tense shoulders and rubbed his hand through Conal's hair, willing calm to his squire. They remained that way for several long minutes before either moved. Knight assisted squire in replacing clothes and wiping away tears and Derrick wondered absentmindedly if he was ever going to have a dry shirt last a day. He ruffled Conal's hair as the boy finished dressing and led him over to the window embrasure.
"I don't suppose, in all your worries about this situation," Derrick re-opened the shutters and let bright sunlight shine in the room heavy with emotion. "that you even noticed during the ride home." Conal looked puzzled, wondering what in the world his knight was talking about. Derrick crooked his finger at the boy and Conal was drawn to the window that looks out over the fenced field where the horses run during the day. Derrick pointed at the field and left Conal to search among the several new horses now roaming the grassy enclosure.
"He is not ready to be ridden yet, not that you are in any shape to do any riding at the moment." Derrick swatted Conal gently, causing the boy to yelp and rub his tender backside.
"You are confined to your room for the day except for chores and training this afternoon. However, I suggest you help Roland re-shoe your new horse after lunch." All of a sudden, Conal saw the black horse he admired in town romping through the field, chasing the other young stallions. He smiled wide enough to nearly crack his face in half and flung his arms around Derrick. The knight grinned down at the top of the boy's head, sqweezing him in an affectionate embrace. At least this chapter of this ordeal is over.