“I guess I just assumed that he was behaving in a way that was typical for a knight master with his squire. I didn’t realize it was because we were friends or know that it was even possible for adults to be friends with fourteen-year-olds,” Burchard said defensively.
Ruschmann gave him another look. “What happened when you were growing up that you don’t know these kinds of things?” he said softly.
Burchard frowned. “You have seen my interactions with my father. The way he behaves here is not much different than when we were growing up. He has always been a knight first, then a lord, then a husband.”
Ruschmann stepped toward Burchard until he was close enough to reach out and grab his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “There is nothing that says friends or family have to be related by blood. You are a squire now. You can choose for yourself who will play those roles in your life.”
“Really?” Burchard said, voice barely a whisper.
“Really,” Ruschmann said firmly. “Come on, let’s go get breakfast. When you suggested joining you, I thought you meant for one lap, not five! I’m starving.”
Burchard gave his friend a half-hearted smile before turning toward the castle gate and taking off at a fast run.
21
“High, middle, low.” Sir Foxbright’s voice carried over the training yard as three rows of pages and the two squires went through a hand-to-hand combat drill. The explanation at the beginning of the training session was to help them warm up. The group began with Sir Foxbright standing in front, but as they eased into a rhythm, the knight walked the lines, pausing by each page and correcting them individually.
Burchard let his hands drop to his sides as he observed. What was most fascinating to him was how quickly a page would improve. Once the knight moved on, Burchard found himself continuing to watch the previous page and could see that they remembered how they were corrected. Sir Peter taught him that way, but it was usually one on one. Most of the instructors preferred to stand in front and shout instructions. If one was doing it improperly, the instructor would repeat the demonstration, but never took the time to walk through and give individual instruction.
Burchard heard a rasp at his side and turned slightly to see Sir Foxbright studying him. A blush crept up his cheeks. He had been observing instead of warming up. “Sorry, sir.”
To Burchard’s surprise, the knight shrugged. “I know you ran five laps around the castle before breakfast with Ruschmann. I’m not worried about if you’re warmed up. Do you have any thoughts on my methods?”
Burchard blushed even deeper. “They work,” he said.
Sir Foxbright chuckled. “Yes, they do. It’s amazing how much more willing a page is when you take the time to explain what they’re doing wrong and how to fix it, instead of just telling them they’re wrong.” He paused. “Sometimes it is a challenge even for me to figure out what a page is doing incorrectly. When you see a move that is almost right, but just a little off.”
“Being even a little off can be the difference between surviving or dying,” Burchard said softly.
“Yes, I know. Which is precisely why I teach them this way. To ensure they learn now, before it is harder to undo improper footwork or a stance,” Sir Foxbright agreed.
“Why weren’t they teaching like this when I was a page?” Burchard asked, hoping the knight wouldn’t mind the question.
“It wasn’t until I saw your fourth-year tests that I realized how much you already know, and how far behind everyone else is,” Sir Foxbright revealed.
Burchard nibbled on his lip. “I don’t understand.”
“General Wolfensberger ensured you never learned the improper way of using your body when you were just a small boy. You live and breathe it, so it did not impact your training much over those four years. But most pages don’t have the luxury of learning under the eyes of General Wolfensberger.”
“They’re better off,” muttered Burchard.
Sir Foxbright ignored his comment. “My point is that I have been requiring the combat instructors to start walking the lines, helping the pages individually, so they correct their mistakes sooner than later.”
“Is there anything you want me to do, sir?” Burchard asked.
Sir Foxbright shrugged. “If you want to walk the lines too, you are more than welcome to do so. Just keep in mind not all of the pages will appreciate being told what to do by a squire.”
Burchard nodded and waited as Sir Foxbright moved on to Ruschmann, who had continued to do the drill. Then, he went to the end of the row he was on and started walking down it. He decided instead of finding things for the pages to fix to just observe each page more closely to get a feel for what they were doing. He slowly made his way down all three lines.
Just before he reached the last page, Sir Foxbright called everyone to attention. “Now that we are warmed up, I want everyone to grab the wooden practice swords and pair up.” Burchard caught Ruschmann’s eye, and the other squire shrugged and walked over to the massive pile of wooden practice swords.
Burchard picked one up and found a spot clear of the pages and gave his sword a few practice swings. For starters, it was unbalanced, and it was very lightweight. He was tempted to just use his regular sword but wasn’t sure what Sir Foxbright was planning on doing with them.
Ruschmann walked over to him, smacking his hand with his wooden sword. “This is going to be fun.”
“Do you miss having your fingers whacked?” Burchard asked with a smirk, then jabbed at his friend with his sword, poking him in the side.
Ruschmann twirled his practice sword in his hand, then smacked Burchard’s shoulder with it. “Do you?”
“Pair up! Get in a line!” ordered Sir Foxbright.
Burchard winked at Ruschmann as they fell into the double line formation. Thankfully, they were at one end. They scooted farther away from the pages closest to them, wanting room to maneuver, and also to stay clear of any stray strikes.
“Ready begin! High, low, middle. Left side strikes, right side blocks,” Sir Foxbright ordered.
Burchard nodded to Ruschmann, who started with a high strike. Burchard met it with a high block. Down the line there seemed to be some confusion as whines and yelps echoed.
“I guess they don’t know what left or right is,” muttered Burchard.
“Hopefully they figure that out before they’re on a battlefield,” Ruschmann replied darkly.
Just as with the hand-to-hand warm-up, Sir Foxbright walked the double line, helping each pair of pages. When he got to the two squires, he just watched them without comment for a few moments before returning to the beginning of the line again. The knight walked the line three more times before Ruschmann got bored and stopped doing the prescribed exercise of high, middle, and low blocks.
“What are you doing?” hissed Burchard, blocking his friend’s strike.
“Practicing,” retorted Ruschmann, feinting to the right and jabbing his sword at Burchard’s unprotected side.
