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I crossed the courtyard, sword in my hand, tossing my long gray braid over my shoulder.
The training courtyard was a spacious area, bordered on three sides by high stone castle walls. I marched across the packed dirt and straw, well-trodden from years of heavy use. The air was thick with the scents of sweat, leather, and metal. As I approached the practice ring, the clanging of swords and thumping of shields echoed off the stone walls.
Nearby, a group of young squires practiced their footwork, jumping and pivoting with wooden swords in hand as a knight with grizzled gray hair shouted orders. Their faces were set in concentration, their eyes fixed on their movements. Suddenly, one of the boys tripped and fell, evoking uproarious laughter from his companions.
On the other side of the courtyard, a group of knights in full armor engaged in swordplay, their movements fluid and graceful. I could hear the clash of steel as they swung and struck at each other, their shouts of exertion punctuating the air.
I stepped into the practice ring, wooden sword in my hand. There were some low benches arranged against one stone wall nearby, offering seating for any onlookers. Only Sir Ector Prennell stood nearby, however. The dark-skinned knight was leaning against the wooden fence as he watched us.
“Remember what I’ve taught you,” he called out as I prepared myself. “Focus on your footwork. Keep your guard up, Morgan.”
I nodded, keeping my eyes on my opponent.
Lancelet grinned. “Are you ready?”
“I’m always ready,” I replied, as coolly as I could.
We began to circle each other, our wooden swords clashing as we tested each other’s defenses.
Lancelet was quick and agile. She was more skilled than I–and knew it too.
I was more measured. I focused on her defense, waiting for an opening.
As we sparred, Sir Ector watched closely. I felt a sense of determination come over me. I wanted to show him what I was capable of. Show him that his lessons had not been for nothing.
Our swords clanged together again and again, the sound echoing off the stones. My patience began to wear thin, as did my endurance. I might not ever be a knight like Lancelet, but this was important to me. I had been a little surprised when Sir Ector agreed these were skills I should possess.
I felt the sweat begin to trickle down my brow and tried not to let it distract me. I was determined to win this match.
But determination might not have been enough. Lancelet was stronger, faster, and let’s face it, rougher by nature.
“What’s the matter, Princess? Sun get in your face?” she taunted.
I ignored her, finally seeing my chance.
“Need a rest? Perhaps a goblet of water? Shall I summon a servant to fan you?”
She was laughing hysterically at her own words. While she was distracted, I feinted to the left, swung my sword low, then back to the right, catching her off-guard. My wooden sword struck her arm with a loud crack, and the match was over.
Lancelet whooped her congratulations, and now it was my turn to grin. No one could say she wasn't a good sport.
She came towards me, arms outstretched, and I let her embrace me, trying not to flinch from the easy affection I was still not accustomed to.
Sir Ector clapped slowly.
“Are you sure you can’t make a knight of her yet?” Lancelet asked.
A small smile slowly crossed his weathered warm brown face. “You did well, Morgan,” he said, looking at me. “Both of you. You continue to impress me every day. Keep up the good work.”
I felt a sense of pride wash over me and my face heated up. I never realized how much I was counting on his approval until he begrudgingly gave it.
Lancelet and I walked back to the wooden block of rooms that served as both change rooms and equipment storage for female knights. There were fewer and fewer of them since my brother began his rule–just one of many foul symptoms of his reign, but I knew Lancelet was hoping to change that.
“Come for a drink?” Lancelet began shrugging out of her leather jerkin, revealing a cream linen tunic belted at the waist beneath. “The Bear and Mermaid has a new minstrel.”
I eyed her skeptically. “It’s the middle of the afternoon.”
“Yes, but we’ve worked hard. We deserve it.” She winked at me. “We’ve worked up a thirst. Look at you, you’re drenched.”
