Maddock squinted, trying to focus through the liquid weeping from his battered eyes.
The sun was low on the horizon, and the band of sky above it was a bright red. Everything was picked out in silhouette; the empty pens, the network of stanchions supporting the stands, and the figure of Gefry standing at Tasker's shoulder. But Gefry was no longer alone.
A dark shape had appeared beside him, and was reaching out towards the oblivious squire. Gefry seemed suddenly to jump and spin around, then there was a thud and he bent double, his breath whistling out of him. Tasker turned quickly and the dark figure hurtled forward and crashed into him, sending him stumbling backwards into the squire holding one of Maddock's arms. They both fell to the floor, and Maddock felt his arm released.
The figure did not stop. It came on, striking at the squire holding Maddock's other arm. The boy was slow to react, and Maddock heard the now familiar crack of a fist hitting bone as the squire's head was rocked back on his shoulders. He too released his grip, and without its support, Maddock fell to his hands and knees. He raised his head and saw Gefry still bent double, gasping for breath, and another squire holding his nose as blood pulsed between his fingers. Tasker and the other squire were disentangling themselves from where they lay on the ground.
"Get up!" said a familiar voice, and he looked up to see the squire Grifford standing over him.
"But..." stammered Maddock.
Tasker had now made his feet, glaring at Grifford.
"Oh you have trouble now, boy!" he said, a smile creeping over his face. He moved swiftly towards them.
Grifford leapt forward, throwing his weight against a stack of beam tree timbers. The stack tilted and the topmost layers tumble forward, striking Tasker's legs and knocking him over once more.
"Run, idiot!" said Grifford as he grabbed Maddock by his collar, hauled him to his feet and threw him towards the passage of stanchions leading to the open grasslands.
He stumbled forward and caught himself on his hands, but swiftly got his feet under him and ran, ignorant of the pains in his foot and in the rest of his body.
"After them!" came Tasker's enraged voice, echoing under the stands so that it seemed to come from all around.
Maddock limped and swayed as he ran, striking one of the wooden stanchions with his shoulder before stumbling on. He heard running footsteps and a fast breath behind him, right at his heel.
"Faster, Field-hand," gasped Grifford.
The squire grabbed his collar again and pulled him forward. They staggered out together from beneath the dark stands and ran towards the safety of the Enclosures.
"Coward!" came Tasker's shout, his voice breaking into a screech.
Maddock felt Grifford release his hold on his collar, and heard his steps falter.
"You are a coward! Just like your father!"
Grifford's footsteps stopped.
Maddock looked over his shoulder, but tripped and sprawled on his face in the grass. It seemed to knock the last of his strength out of him. He did not have the will left to stand, but he managed to roll onto his back and lift his head. Grifford was standing between the two lines of pens, looking back towards the stands, where Maddock could hear the sound of chasing footsteps.
"What are you doing?" he panted, but Grifford did not reply.
One of the pursuing squires ran from the shadows and slid to a halt when he saw Grifford waiting there. Blood still caked his nose and upper lip, and he wiped at it with his arm, but he did not advance. A second squire ran up and stumbled to a surprised halt. Next to appear was Tasker, and he looked neither shocked nor apprehensive at the sight of Grifford standing before him.
"Maybe you are not such a coward as I thought," he said, but Grifford did not reply.
Gefry then appeared behind Tasker, panting and still holding his stomach. The two squires on either side of Tasker moved toward Grifford, confident smiles now on their faces.
"Hold!" said Tasker savagely. "I will deal with him."
He advanced on Grifford, his arms held by his side. He was a head taller, and the years between them clearly showed in Tasker's broader shoulders and thicker arms.
"Stand aside and let me at the Field-hand, and maybe I will let you go with only a light bruising."
"No," said Grifford.
Tasker cocked his head and looked over Grifford's shoulder, to where Maddock had managed to pull himself to his feet and stood, barely supporting himself on the side of one of the empty pens.
"Why your interest in this borak dung anyway? Not a friend, surely. I do not think that even you would stoop so low."
Maddock managed to raise his head as Grifford glanced over his shoulder. Their eyes met, though he could not read anything in the squire's flat gaze.
Grifford looked back to Tasker.
"I owe him a debt of gratitude."
"What!" scoffed Tasker. "What nonsense are you talking?"
"It is no business of yours. Just know that by the codes I owe him a debt."
"The codes are for knights, boy, and you are not worthy, just as your father is not."
"He is more worthy than yours."
Tasker leapt forward without warning and struck at Grifford, who dodged his first strike but could do nothing to avoid the second. He tried to block the blow, but Tasker's fists easily battered his arm aside and struck his shoulder.
"I wanted to finish this in the ring, but I cannot wait for you to be done training that deformed beast of yours. You would doubtless never make it to knighthood anyway, and that would be a blessing for the Order."
With the squire's back to him, Maddock could not see the anger on Grifford's face, but he could easily imagine it. He could hear it as well, in the incoherent yell that broke from the boy's throat as he charged at the older squire. He struck at Tasker, but his angry blows were easily avoided and he received a heavy punch to the head in response. Tasker delivered more quick strikes to his chest and stomach as he tried to step back, but the older squire followed, fists beating at him mercilessly.
Grifford received two final quick blows across his face and staggered backwards, tripping and falling to the ground. Tasker dropped his arms and took a step back, grinning with satisfaction at the damage he had done.
Grifford lay there, gasping for breath. Blood trickled down his face, where the skin above his eye had split, and his lips were swollen and cut against his teeth.
Maddock could do nothing but look on, knowing that Grifford was beaten. His full stomach was now a tight knot of pain, and his foot, where it had been cut open on the broken glass, throbbed with his quickened heartbeat.
The attention of the four squires seemed dedicated to the fallen form of Grifford. Maddock edged backwards along the fence. None of the boys seemed to notice. The sun had nearly set, and the early evening light from the Khensis moon was hidden behind the towering stands, so the avenue was in near darkness.
Tasker had taken a few steps towards Grifford and was grinning down at him in triumph, his face lit by the sun's dying rays.
"Get him up!" he said, and two of the squires stepped forward and dragged Grifford to his feet.
They stepped back and Grifford remained standing, though he seemed unsteady and he was bent forward, one hand pressed to his stomach.
"I am prepared to be lenient with you, squire," said Tasker, his grin widening "If you admit that your father is a liar and a traitor."
Silence followed that demand, and Maddock paused, holding his breath until Grifford gave his reply.
"Never."
"Good," said Tasker, raising his fists once more.
Maddock turned, ready to crawl away into the darkness, but as he began to move he was aware of someone stepping over him, and a quiet voice, spiked with malice, said.
"Enough of this!"
Maddock rolled onto his back to see the easily recognisable form of High Madriel-master Sprak silhouetted against the vanishing sunlight. It was not an imposing form. Indeed, Master Sprak stood barely taller than Tasker, but his very presence stilled the squires standing in the centre of the avenue.
"And once again I find you idiot cubs fighting in my territory."
His voice was low and deadly. He stepped forward and grabbed Grifford by the arm, turning him savagely round to face him.
"And I should have known that you would be in the centre of it!"
Maddock heard movement behind him and looked over his shoulder to see another squire, whom he recognised but could not place, standing uncertainly in the dark behind him.
"And you!" exclaimed Master Sprak, drawing Maddock's attention back once more.
The fierce Madriel-master was glaring at Tasker, who met the look with one of dumb belligerence.
"I would expect better of your rank, boy! Explain yourself!"
Tasker glanced at his companions, then looked into the darkness where Maddock lay hidden, his eyes darting left to right. Reassured that the true cause of the confrontation had fled, he replied.
"This squire attacked my friends without reason. I could not stand by without trying to stop him."
"That would not surprise me of this whelp!" said Master Sprak, glaring down at Grifford, who simply gazed back, still half dazed.
"He is always the one to cause trouble," added Tasker, confidence creeping into his voice. "You know that to be true, High Madriel-Master."
"Is that what happened?" asked Sprak of the other squires.
One did not meet the Madriel-master's cold glare, another simply nodded dumbly and Gefry, standing at Tasker's shoulder said.
"That is what happened, High Madriel-master. We were minding our own business when he attacked us without cause."
'No you don't,' thought Maddock. Grifford might have been a privileged brute, and a thick headed fool, but he would not just sit there and see him punished. Not after what the boy had done for him that night.
He clambered to his feet.
"Please, sir, Master Sprak," he said.
"Ah," said Master Sprak, without turning about. "A voice from the darkness!"
Maddock saw Tasker's eyes widen in surprise, then they narrowed once more in anger.
"He did attack them, but it was because of me. He was stopping me from being beaten!"
"Step up here, boy!" growled Master Sprak. "Let's hear the truth from you."
Maddock stepped out of the shadows and limped forward, under the hostile glares of Tasker and the other squires. Grifford was also looking at Maddock as he approached, his face still dazed and unfocused.
"Well!" said Master Sprak. "Speak!"
"Squire Tasker wanted to give me a beating, for what I did today. At the riding-grounds. Squire Grifford tried to stop 'em."
"He's lying!" said Tasker, calmly.
"I don't think so," said Master Sprak.
"You would take the word of a Field-hand over mine!" said Tasker savagely.
"No," said Master Sprak. "But I have eyes and a brain, and your lies will now add to your punishment."
Tasker seemed momentarily speechless, but then anger took hold of his tongue.
"This piece of shit caused me embarrassment today! He deserved what I dealt out to him." Tasker stabbed a finger at Grifford. "And this fool..."
"Silence!" roared Master Sprak, making Tasker and the other squires almost leap backwards. The word seemed to echo perpetually in the darkness beneath the stands.
"Your own inadequacies caused your embarrassment today, boy!" Master Sprak hissed, his voice still loud, spittle flying from his lips.
He then turned viciously on Maddock.
"You!" he said.
Maddock stood still, but managed to meet the Madriel-master's anger.
"You cost me money today!" he growled. "But lucky for you, your performance impressed me." Master Sprak seemed to catch Tasker's scowl in the half light, and he grinned his most malicious grin. "Did you not know that this boy has been in my service for less than two turns of Sladin moon? He has not even had proper training for the riding-grounds, yet good Master Dramut saw fit to send him against the Order's so called finest squires. You were bested by a novice! A nobody! A farmer's runt, fresh out of the field!"
Tasker glowered at the ground, his humiliation complete. The other squires shuffled their feet and failed to meet each other's eyes.
"You, boy!" said Master Sprak over his shoulder, and Maddock turned to see the other young squire, the one who had followed Master Sprak from the darkness. He was standing behind him, looking nervous and as uncertain as the rest of them. "Go to the arena-field and find Lance-master Tzarren. Tell him that these young fools will be sleeping with the Field-hands tonight!"
"You cannot make us..." began Tasker.
"I will do as I see fit!" roared Master Sprak. "Tonight you will sleep on the floor of the bunkhouse, and tomorrow, before the sun even warms Klinberg's walls, you will be here cleaning this mess up!"
Master Sprak jabbed a finger towards the stands, their carpet of rubbish and discarded food now hidden by the darkness.
The anger in Tasker's eyes was almost a match for Master Sprak's, but he remained silent.
"Well!" said Master Sprak to the young squire, who had still not moved. "Shift yourself! And make sure the boys' fathers are told. I'd hate them to be missed."
The squire ran off into the darkness.
"And you two," said Master Sprak, regarding Maddock and Grifford. "Get yourselves over to the Infirmary and get your wounds cleaned up before they start to fester."
"I am all right," said Grifford, the first words he had spoken since Master Sprak had appeared from the darkness.
Master Sprak put his hand beneath Grifford's chin and pulled his head up roughly.
"You will do as I say, boy! I've had enough disobedience today."
He pushed Grifford towards the distant lights, which marked where the Infirmary lay on the edge of the Enclosures. Maddock followed him, feeling the weight of Tasker's hatred directed at his back.
"And you fools come with me!" he heard Master Sprak command, and then his deriding comments slowly faded as he led the guilty squires away.
Maddock walked with Grifford in silence, both of them limping and bleeding. Only once was the quiet broken, when Maddock summed his energy to speak.
"Thank you for what you did."
The other boy did not reply at first. After a few seconds, he spoke through broken lips.
"You have made yourself an enemy today."
"You too," replied Maddock.
A longer silence followed, broken only by the sound of their breathing, and the rhythmic chirps and squeals rising from the surrounding plains' grass.
"Tasker has always been my enemy," said Grifford, eventually breaking the silence. "I cannot remember a time when he was not."
They walked on to the Infirmary together.