Father against son

“Are you...” Gwilim saw an opening and lunged. “sure about your companions?”

Emrys felt the blunted tip of his father’s sword as it snaked past a rather good defense and thumped soundly on a hip.

They had closed the doors to the training room and lit a few candles. As usual, the senior swordsman chose the tools of training. Tonight it was gladius and cavalry shield. An odd combination, unless one’s companion had just been unhorsed and needed to fight afoot.

With most everyone turned in for the night, father and son had retreated to their usual duels. Swords, of course, and the ever present social discourse in High Roman. Occasionally a shield or other variation.

“Point.” Emrys said and started to relax.

“We’re going to...” Gwilim started to correct Emrys, reminding him that the bout was to three points and Emrys only had one. His jaw caught the padded edge of the sword as it drifted just over the shield. Emrys had pulled the blow but then whipped the gladius around and back edged Gwilim’s sword arm soundly.

“And that would be three.” Emrys smiled. “You taught me almost all the tricks I know. Almost. Sir Hywel would occasionally host Sir Jaradon, and I would painfully learn one or two more. Sometimes very painfully.”

“Excellent! Still, I believe I’m up on this bout.” Gwilim stepped back and saluted his son. “Water?”

“Yes to both, father.” Emrys returned the salute and then replaced both sets of sword and shield in their mounts. “I would say you are still the better of us, though I’m glad it will not come to that.”

“You have yet to answer my question.” Gwilim held out a mug.

“Yes to that as well.” Emrys took the mug thankfully and sipped. “Let me counter with a question; a point of clarification. Am I sharing thoughts with a wiser father or reporting to a Roman lord?”

Gwilim smiled. “Good answer. Let’s say both. Pick your responses accordingly.”

“Certainly.” Emrys nodded and cupped the mug in one hand. His voice assumed an orator’s formal tone. “One could look at their behavior this evening and certainly question the moral standing and social graces displayed. However, such evidence must be viewed with its transient nature in relevance. None of the others make a routine habit of dining with a Lord. As there are few, that is, one, actual Roman lords in all of Salisbury, their behavior must be viewed with the idea that they are in a new and difficult social situation. That they are my companions as well introduces additional questions as to the proper social dictums.”

“Even I stumbled more than once, unable to recall some of the most basic details of the encounter.” Emrys nodded. “I admit, my blood was up and going in to battle with people I did not know occupied part of my mind.”

“Yet one must also view historical data to properly evaluate. In this case, while each of my companions is interestingly unique in their own way, they are beholden either directly or nearly so to the Earl. Further, besides the usual winter gossip that follows any young man, each of these worthies has proven themselves in line for knighthood. I have heard nothing that would preclude any of them from their spurs. This is confirmed by their behavior in the woods. The Earl directed and they obeyed with enthusiasm. It was a risky venture and they prevailed.”

“Thus the behavior must be judged as acceptable for squires on the verge of knighthood. Certainly other knights, with spurs and honor, have behaved much worse. “ He rested his free hand on the mug.

“And you. Son to father, what do you think?”

“Mildly embarrassed, of course.” Emrys nodded and relaxed. “Yet each one has proven their bravery and each has their strengths. Perhaps there are better to throw one’s fortune in with. Yet there are also worse. It is easier to learn a social grace than purify an evil heart.”

Gwilim nodded, and smiled. “If you are to succeed me I suggest you find those you can trust. It is a difficult task and sometimes even the best will fall away. One needs merely look at Saint Peter for example.”

“Yet you must consider, too, your role.” Gwilim refilled their mugs. “One day you will need staunch friends. It is not for you to roll with the servants whenever the need strikes you. It is your work to prepare to lead, to learn to love, and to plan with wisdom. Speaking of which, how is Wyndda doing?”

Emrys blushed. “Growing up quite nicely, I believe. I think she still remembers that I patted her on the head the first time I saw her. I swear she looked like the baker’s son I had just talked to the day before.”

“Well, at least she remembers you. That’s a start.” Gwilim was silent for a moment and Emrys recognized his father’s thoughtful preparation. “On one hand a young knight must risk much gain the attention of someone like Hywel. Or his daughter.” He paused. “Yet there is also the issue of being eldest son. The family would grieve sorely should you go out and get yourself killed trying to impress a father. You need children, son. You must be alive for that to happen.”

“I know. Still, it is a daunting thing.” Emrys nodded. “I’m happy to let you and mother live for an exceptionally long time. Hopefully long enough to see your grandchildren. Yet the idea of a marriage to someone like Wyndda gives me pause. What does one do during the day? Are you ever able to just go about the countryside and not feel like the weight of everything rests on your shoulders?”

“Some times.” Gwilim replied. “The land and the people must be cared for. As the knights who have sworn to the family follow your direction, you will be able to entrust them more. It will be a transition, assuredly. Yet you will do well. You may catch yourself spending an afternoon sitting by a pond and composing an ode to impress Wyndda. Eventually. At first, though, you will do a lot of answering and a lot of asking. And feel like you know very little.”

“I have that last part in abundance!” Emrys chuckled and then refilled their mugs. “Already, and just with Newton. The whole idea of manorial improvements is fascinating. As long as it’s not using real money, that is. As soon as money joins the conversation it becomes frustrating.”

“I’ve started thinking about having each manor begin at least some sort of improvements.” Gwilim replied. “Really, the times seem good for everyone. Enough struggle to keep us vibrant, enough peace to let us rest once in a while. If you wish to impress Wyndda, and perhaps turn her thoughts towards you as a man, consider an ornamental garden. Your mother has wanted one for years, and I’ve heard many of the ladies start to discuss them.”

“Well, I was originally thinking of a jousting field. Codford is only a short ride from Sarum, and thus a way to entertain knights and bring about good conversations.”

“What if you worked towards both?” Gwilim asked. “I know you have a little bit of leeway this year. Your part of the prize from the bandits would also give you a start. Your mother can speak of flowers and arranging the garden itself. The northern field would make a good jousting area and the garden could be on that side of the manor. Just under the master hall, and visible from inside. Something to consider.”

“Yes. Well.” Emrys put up the rest of the gear. “Thank you, again, father. It is good seeing you. One day, hopefully soon, the bouts will be mine.”

“One day, son. But not today!”