“The voice of parents is the voice of gods, for to their children they are heaven’s lieutenants.”
- Shakespeare
A low fire rumbled in the hearth of the great room, felt rather than heard over the din of the room. My brother and I were playing together; the loud clack of wood on wood filled the room as we acted out great battles with toy swords across the great bearskin rug. We fought like this for hours, while our father, Ambrosias, looked on. He rarely said a word, interjecting only when one of us did something that needed correction. This was one of those moments.
“Your guard is low, Marcos.”
“But, I am winning Father!” cried out Marcos, just as I swung my sword and connected with his chin. He fell to the ground, crying out, as the welt began to appear on his face. I backed up, as Father came forward to inspect the wound.
“As I said. Too low.” Father’s voice was littered with disappointment as he continued, “although I am not sure if your brother saw it, or just took advantage of my pointing it out.”
I went from a beaming smile to the look of the guilty as those words struck home.
“I’ll go get the surgeon, Father,” and began to quickly make my exit to avoid the scolding I knew was coming. Father’s lessons were known to sting.
“No need. It will serve to remind him of the mistake he made. You will get to look upon it and ponder whether you were fighting with honor, Damon. “
There it was; the sting.
He went back to his chair and sat down, staring at us like we were animals that had just made a mess on the floor. Marcos was holding his sword in one hand and his chin with the other, alternating glares between me and father. It was hard to tell which he hated more, but if looks could kill, he’d be alone in the room.
I held my sword at my side and stared at Father. I am sure he could see the despair on my face, although I tried to hide it. I opened my mouth to ask a question, and then promptly closed it, knowing the answer father would give. I lowered my head and began to think about what he had said.
“You will get to look upon it and ponder whether you were fighting with honor, Damon. “
Like a predator waiting on his prey, Marcos chose this time to strike again, swinging his sword down upon my head. I started to parry, but I was never going to make it. This was going to hurt, and I prepared myself reflexively for the blow about to land. I was about to hear the ringing of the Time Bells if you know what I mean.
Just before the blow struck home, the blade went wide as if struck by something. Marcos’ head looked in the direction of the sword, and had missed father’s hand close upon the back of his neck, seizing him in his powerful grip. I caught a glimpse in the corner of my eye of Father’s turkey leg hitting the floor, as Marcos’ feet left the ground.
“That is enough!”
His voice echoed through the chamber and froze everyone within earshot in their tracks. The servants, Marcos and I, even the dogs who were about to burst for the meat on the floor came to rest their eyes upon Ambrosias as he held Marcos aloft, poised so he could speak eye to eye with the boy.
“This is a profession of Honor. You will not strike from surprise in a duel. In War, these tactics must sometimes be used, but in a duel of brothers, especially in play, We Do Not.
For years I have counseled you both on what it means to be swordsmen. Damon has learned and has become a fine swordsman. He requires refinement and subtle hints about proper conduct, but he does not seek revenge when he is injured in training. That is the coward’s way. “
I could see how his eyes burned into Marcos’ as the words sunk deep into his psyche, never to leave. I heard them as clear as if they had been spoken aloud.
Damon is the better son. You are a coward.
“Your punishment will be to prepare our meals with the servants until you can show me you have learned. Jaron, take this whelp to the kitchen.”
The Captain, who had run in when he heard his Lord bellow, released his hand from his sword and crossed the room to Marcos. The warrior’s gait was impatient as if this was something he didn’t want to deal with.
“Come on, boy. Another month with the help for you!”
I could hear the contempt for my brother that had just made him a babysitter, even if it was just for a moment. Marcos strode off behind the captain with his head low, looking back with a sorrowful gaze at father, who was watching him as he left.
As he passed me, he gave me a look that would have started me ablaze if it could. Fortunately for me, our wizardly studies were more than a year off, and I remained safely unscorched for the moment.
I could see the hatred in Marcos’ eyes, and he was upset for his plight. The welt on his chin seemed to leap out at me, and I mouthed the words, “I’m sorry” as he passed by me. Marcos’ expression never changed, however, and he marched out of the hall like a prisoner in irons determined to escape.
I watched the door until I could no longer hear the footsteps. Then, I just stared into space where he had been as if the whole thing might just change back to the way it was. A moment or two later, I was startled by a large hand on my shoulder.
“You are not to blame for your brother’s behavior. He makes his own choices.”
“I understand, Father. I still feel to blame. If only I was a better example…”
“You are the better example. He does not see it, as his eyes only gaze at himself. You, however, see others before you and attempt to serve. “
I looked up at Father, who was smiling down on me. His voice had softened, as it only does when we are alone. In the pause it took him to speak, the dogs could be heard, finally devouring the remains of the castaway bird leg.
“Give him time. He will see. He will see. “
He was quiet for a moment as if his mind was far away. Suddenly, he straightened up and removed the hand from my shoulder.
“Now, off to your practice. Tell the master at arms I said to work your thrusts. They were slow today. “
Knowing the hard work ahead of me for my transgression against Marcos, I groaned as I walked away. I would be thrusting at the practice dummies for an hour at least before I got to ride my stallion again as I had planned.
"Yes, Father"
And what is worse, I had to go ask for the work myself! Father was showing his trust by not telling the old Sword Master himself, as he knew I would carry out the intent of the command.
Virtue is its own punishment, it seems.
I stopped to bow to my father and then ran to hug him quickly before the big man could stop me. He smiled and held me, glancing around at the servants. I could see they were pretending to ignore his affection for me, allowing him this moment of enjoyment that he so rarely was afforded.
I let go, and ran off to train, scooping up the toy swords from the floor with a forward roll as I had been trained to do, setting them in their place.
I stopped around the corner, and sneaked a peek at my Father for a moment, the smile still upon his face. After a moment, I heard him speak to the empty room.
“Enough play for today.”
Then slowly, he walked away, leaving the room to the servants, quickly rushing in to clean it. They relaxed into their duties and pretended not to be relieved.
“Off to see the swordmaster, then,” I sighed, and ran off down the hall.