The Breton Boys

Chapter Nine: The Battle at Banebury | 1

"We depart marching three abreast," Captain Pitchblende announced from his mount on the back of a proud, fully barded destrier. "Two when the road narrows. Merrifield, Dillony, Lagerquist, to the front."

The Fourth Infantry stood, armed and resolute, before the Captain. The soldiers who had been summoned stepped forward and stood shoulder to shoulder as Captain Pitchblende continued to configure the line, three at a time.

Much to Reid's relief, Imeric was placed near the front of the unit, far away from his own position in the middle. What was more, he was pleased to be flanked on either side by two titled soldiers: Tristan Wrook on his right, whom he'd met briefly during the previous week of training and who reminded him vaguely of Sir Innskeep, and to his left, Jo. Reid smiled beneath his helmet, feeling secure in his position.

At the same time, standing there, waiting to march into battle - his greatest fantasy-turned-reality – felt incredibly surreal. Training had never given him this sensation - the flip of his stomach or the light eagerness in his chest – because in all the hours he'd passed alone in his closet of a room at St. Wigbert's, he hadn't imagined himself training. He had pictured himself as a strong, prepared, and experienced soldier. One who sprang fearlessly to action. A leader. And that was how he felt now as he stood on the brink of his first true battle. He was a defender of Hollenmere, and he could not lose.

Reid instinctively brushed his hand over his pocket to touch the agate that rested there, forgetting that he was covered bodily in metal plates. Nonetheless, he could feel the odd shape and weight of it against him, and he understood why his mother had chosen this stone for him.

At the front of the queue, Captain Pitchblende shouted "onward!" and the Fourth Infantry started forward with a synchronized step.

***

They marched north into Twayblade without incident. It was impossible for Reid talk with Jo or Tristan when his helmet impeded him and the din of the clanking armor was so sonorous. He might have been bored if he had been walking towards any activity more mundane than battle, but as it was, the journey seemed to pass with astonishing speed. Reid was surprised when Captain Pitchblende stopped them for a quick midday meal; it seemed no more than an hour had passed since he'd been at home eating breakfast, and he wasn't very hungry even now. Nonetheless, the soldiers veered off the road and into a clearing by a brook for a brief rest and a bite to eat before continuing northward.

Jo sat down in the grass (with some difficulty in full armor), then took off her helmet and shook out her hair. Reid followed but stayed standing and saw Dashel working his way over to them, waving with a biscuit in his hand.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Dashel asked as he chewed. "Captain Pitchblende has food."

"I'm not hungry," Reid answered.

"Well, I am," Jo said, standing back up and walking to the opposite side of the clearing where Captain Pitchblende and others stood distributing biscuits, jerky, and nuts from large sacks.

"I'm exhausted," Dashel said, wiping the crumbs from his chin. "Aragonite is right in front of me in line - it's taken all my energy to keep myself from sticking my foot out and tripping him."

Reid laughed as Jo returned with two big handfuls of snacks, one of which she dumped into Reid's palms.

"You shouldn't be so rough on the Aragonites," she said to Dashel, gnawing on a bit of dried pheasant.

Reid nearly spat out the nuts he'd forced into his mouth. Dashel looked like his eyes might pop straight out of his head.

"Okay, I've heard Imeric's pretty awful," Jo conceded. "He was just starting at the Academy before I was titled, and I don't think he was quite as bad then. But you have to try to understand why he behaves the way he does."

Dashel scoffed while Reid continued to stare at Jo as if she had completely lost her mind.

"Look, I'm not trying to make excuses for his behavior, but I knew Averis pretty well, and Meara gets on with Eleska and Imeric and she's told me some of their stories."

"What kind of stories?" Reid asked. As reluctant as Reid was to be given any reason to dislike Imeric less, he was curious to hear Jo's excuse for his temper. Even Dashel looked interested in hearing more.

Jo hesitated for a moment, as if she was deliberating on where to begin, or if she should even be telling them these things at all.

"From what I've heard," she said, "their father used to take soldiery, too. But there was some kind of accident, and he lost use of his right hand and he couldn't train anymore."

"Why not?" Reid asked. "My greatfather lost his whole arm in battle and he's at the front right now."

"Well, they're not going to kick a titled soldier out of the army for doing something brave like losing a limb in battle, are they?" Dashel said. "But how far can you get when you're just a page with one hand?"

Jo agreed. "I think they figured he was young enough, he might as well find a different trade that he'd be better suited for. So he took an apprenticeship at the mint, but that wasn't what he really wanted, and he was bitter. Averis had wanted to become a physic, but his dad didn't give him a choice. If he couldn't be a soldier, his son would become one in his place.

"As for Eleska, she's always felt like she was the mistake between Averis and Imeric - the daughter who couldn't carry on the name. I think she took up soldiery just to spite her father."

"That still doesn't explain Imeric," Dashel pointed out.

"From what Meara's said," Jo went on, "Imeric really started to lash out when Eleska became a squire. I had been titled earlier that year, so I didn't get to see it first hand, but I guess he didn't do well being separated from his sister. The three of them are really close. Understandable, considering what their home life must be like."

"So that's it?" Dashel replied, unsatisfied. "Imeric's so mean because he misses his sister? That's stupid."

But Reid understood. He knew how hard it was not to feel loved by the person who was supposed to be taking care of you. He couldn't blame Imeric for being angry, because Reid had been angry before for the same reason. And for as close as he was to Oliver now, he imagined that if his brother had been with him at St. Wigbert's, their bond would have become infinitely more sacred because in that horrible place, they wouldn't have had anyone but each other.