The Promise of Peace by Carol Umberger

“Aye, my laird, ’tis dirty.”
    Seamus said, “I told you to clean it when we were finished yesterday. Didn’t I?”
    Sullenly Keifer replied, “Aye.”
    Seamus and Adam exchanged a glance. They treated him like a babe.
    Adam said, “ ’Tis Seamus’s job to train you, Keifer. ’Tis your job to obey him as you would me. Do you understand?”
    â€œAye.” He understood his role well, yet he couldn’t seem to overcome his need to resist. He’d spoken with the priest about his willfulness, and the man had suggested that Keifer pray for strength from the Holy Ghost. Keifer prayed daily for such strength but so far found it lacking.
    â€œGood. When you are finished with your lesson, you will clean all the weapons in the armory as well as your own.”
    â€œAye, my laird.”
    â€œNow I will watch your lesson—I hope you are not as sloppy in your fighting as you are in preparing to fight.”
    Adam nodded to Seamus before standing to the side.
    Angry as well as nervous, Keifer moved into position. Seamus instructed him as to what they would practice first. The lesson began. They worked on several different moves as Seamus explained yet again the advantages and disadvantages of size, quickness, and stamina. “You must learn to recognize your opponent’s strengths and weaknesses as well as your own. Watch the weapon, not the body. Body movement may prove false—the weapon is the key.”
    After a time, Keifer’s arm ached. He parried a thrust and blindly attacked, not striving for form, only wishing for the bout to end.
    Seamus deflected the blow with ease and called a halt. “There, Keifer. That is the longest bout you have managed yet. Well done.”
    Adam walked over to them and put his hand on Keifer’s shoulder. “Well done indeed, lad. I am pleased with what I see.”
    Keifer leaned on his sword, drawing in gulps of air. His arms felt like stones and his legs trembled, but it was worth it to receive such a compliment.
    Seamus ruffled Keifer’s sweaty hair. “You will make a fine warrior yet.”
    Adam withdrew his hand from Keifer’s shoulder and walked over to the weapons, picking up a broad sword. “Come, Seamus. If young Keifer hasn’t tired you, go a round with me.”
    Seamus grinned. “My pleasure, my laird.”
    The morning sun had grown warm, and both men pulled off their sarks. When Adam removed his, Keifer stared at the ragged mark on Adam’s left arm. As the men engaged their swords, they explained what Adam did to compensate for the lack of strength in his shield arm. Adam’s prowess was admirable, but Keifer’s gaze returned over and over to the scar.
    When both men were breathing heavily from their efforts, they halted and put up their weapons. The three of them walked across the bailey to the place behind the kitchen where a crock of water was kept for drinking. Filling the crock each morning was Keifer’s responsibility. Only now did Keifer remember that in his hurry to go fishing he had failed to do so today. Hopefully there was water left from yesterday, or he could expect another rebuke.
    Adam picked up the drinking ladle and lifted the lid.
    â€œWhat’s this? No water?” He turned to Keifer. “This chore is to be done before breakfast. Why was it not done?”
    Keifer rolled his eyes. “I will fill it now, my laird.”
    Where Adam’s face had earlier reflected approval, now he scowled. “Aye, you will. And you’ll not roll your eyes in disrespect, either. See that this crock and the one in the kitchen are filled at the assigned time from now on.”
    Keifer grabbed the bucket to head to the well, mumbling, “I don’t see what difference it makes.”
    Adam grabbed him from behind and spun Keifer to face him. “I’ll tell you what difference it makes. I am thirsty, as is Seamus. And Cook needs water