Squire Hayseed

by S E Zbasnik

  Out of ideas, her head tipped back towards the wall. Even if her shoulder wasn’t shredded pork at this point, she’d have no chance to climb it. Smooth as a waterfall, the dingy grey stone gave no one trespass. Hayley bit on her lip, about to turn away when she noticed a crack in the bricks. Peering closer, a splash of dirty brown-crimson stood out against the not as flat wall.

  Shit.

  Whipping her head back to the scene, Hayley did her best to not imagine all the ways one could wind up smearing blood into a cracked section of stone. There were a lot of options because people were creative when push came to shove. In swallowing down the lump she caught Larissa huffing in a breath and raising her head higher.

  She’d been moping since putting her staff back, acting as if Hayley somehow pissed on her family gravestone. Sure, she was the one wronged — the one without any bruises, any abrasions, and somewhere to go back to when this was over. Poor Larissa. Hayley’d offer to light her a candle for her suffering, but she doubted she’d be trusted anywhere near a church…unless it was in a coffin.

  Did people like her even get funerals? Or coffins?

  Her teeth chattered like vengeful squirrels at the thought. She’d never wondered before, but now she couldn’t stop trying to picture what would mark her grave.

  “Recruits,” the Knight-Captain’s voice drew everyone to attention. Even Hayley felt her shoulders slip back despite having no idea how people were supposed to salute a knight.

  Extending a hand towards the assembled knights, Erin continued, “The Seven Serpents have come to a decision.” Six heads nodded at the Knight-Captain. They were of such varying appearance it was hard to think they had anything to do with each other. Wide noses, skinny noses that’d break in a wind, long snouts, short pushed in ones. Lips thinner than a strand of spaghetti, others thicker than beef. Skin colors dipping across that tan colored rainbow. But they all shared one thing in common, their eyes gleamed like a diamond at the bottom of a coin purse.

  It was a look that caused Hayley’s legs to quiver. She tried to reach for her knees to silence them, but that drew the Knight-Captain’s attention. At the glare of both confusion and annoyance Hayley laughed, shrugged her shoulders, and wrapped both her hands around the back of her neck. She looked like a dung-licking idiot with her elbows flapping about, but she was out of ideas.

  “Knight-Lieutenant Calvin,” Erin waved to a man who stepped forward. His dusky blonde hair was swept back in waves that crested like the ocean. His cheeks were tinged by a rosy blush, but the rest of his face was a pallid pale that looked even sicklier under the cloud cover. The features themselves were pleasant, a wide jaw, a nose that swooped more than a falcon. But it was the cocksure attitude as the man swung one hip forward, his leg planted in the dirt that gave him an aura that drew people in. He looked as if he knew what he was doing.

  “For his squire,” Erin continued, “he has chosen…” The woman dragged the name out, her eyes darting over the pile of them as if this was some fun game for her. “Marco.”

  The ox-man in boy form stepped forward once, then he froze. His tiny eyes blinked against the sun blinding off Knight Calvin’s armor. All around them the other recruits whispered, “Of course he was chosen. Look at him. He’s the best here.”

  Calvin seemed to be paying it no heed, his head held high as he guided the confused Marco towards whatever his future was to be. But before turning to follow his new squire, the man’s eyes swiveled over towards the gossiping teenagers and he smiled wide. He wanted to be known for having the best squire in the lot. Despite knowing nothing about Marco, Hayley suddenly felt sorry for the boy the way she would tiny dogs rich women kept locked up in handbags.

  “Knight-Lieutenant Frederick,” Erin continued, her hand extending back to the next man in line.

  It was his smile that struck Hayley first, two rows of perfect teeth beaming above thin, salmon-pink lips. Mahogany hair cut short and brushed upward helped to increase the man’s approachability. His nose was wide at the top, a bump leaning towards his right eye which also bore a gash through the lush eyebrow. Still, he didn’t seem to mind the scars, the man’s smile increasing to match the easy way he leaned back. Where Knight Calvin tried to be intimidating, this one struck her as the type to ask, “Do you want to talk?” at a moment’s notice.

  It was impossible to not like him at first blush. Suddenly, Hayley felt herself slightly caring about wanting to be picked beyond survival. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. The other girls in line smiled as well, their uncertain eyes casting quick glances over Frederick’s body. Hayley tried to give the same once-over, but she kept getting stuck at his arms. The middle part, in particular, seemed bulgier than was normal. Why did that cause her mind to sparkle?

  “To serve him, he has chosen,” Erin continued. It was a surprise she didn’t have someone standing at the side banging against a drum skin for this. Tipping her head from the ten of the squires to the six knights, she paused and smiled, “Larissa Giles.”

  The two other girls beside Larissa squealed, congratulating her as if she was just swept off her feet by a prince with a massive dowry. Larissa was trying to hold her head high and act as above it all the way Knight Calvin did, but it was obvious she too was internally leaping back and forth in ecstasy. Before taking her place beside the friendly knight, she cast one long eye over at Hayley.

  It screamed, “You got lucky.”

  Hayley couldn’t stop the snicker at the thought. Sure. She was lucky.

  Which was when she realized she’d laughed aloud. Shit. They were all staring dead center at her again. Waffling back and forth on her toes, she shrugged and said, “It’s all so exciting. Right? Squiring with knives and…stabby sticks, and metal plates.” To cover for herself she turned to the other would-be squires who were all waiting to be picked. A few bobbed their heads, uncertain how to respond, while others froze stiff.

  “Be that as it may,” the Knight-Captain groaned, “I would like to get on with this.” Her umber eyes cut through Hayley a moment as if the kid had any power or sway over a mighty Knight. A smart-ass remark burned on her tongue but for once wisdom won out and she swallowed it back.

  “Knight-Lieu…no, I am sorry. Knight-Captain Gavin,” Erin said, her cheeks blushing at having to correct herself. Or perhaps it was the onyx statue come to life and stepping up beside her that did it.

  Merciful god’s gonads, he was intimidating. Just standing there, doing nothing beyond breathing, Hayley felt an urge to both dig into the dirt and wet herself. His eyes burned stronger than a candle dancing through a glass of mead. The chest that tugged against the green and silver livery puffed up even higher. At this close range, Hayley noticed a scar dug into his bottom lip. All the scruff against his brown chin scattered from the wound leaving a noticeable fallow path to staring directly at the man’s lips. The man’s very pouty lips.

  Hayley picked up more squealing at whisper level. She twisted her head over to the other girls remaining, but they both seemed to be holding their hands tight together, jaws slammed shut. Shit. Did she make the noise?

  Whoever did, Knight-Captain Gavin seemed to pay it no heed. He too gazed around at the stable of future-squires, future-wash outs, and one future-worm feeder. After the once-over, he turned to Erin, who sighed and began to speak.

  “The Knight-Captain has picked for his squire…” She paused, but this time it didn’t seem to be for dramatic effect. Lips pursed into a near on snarl, Erin glared through the mess of other knights who were also looking uncomfortable. Only Gavin remained steadfast, his head high as he waited.

  Coughing once, Erin sighed, waved her hand through the dirt-filled air, and announced, “Hayley.”

  What?

  She whipped her head back behind her as if there was something other than a wall keeping her trapped here. Fully adrift, her eyes traveled over to the other two girls. Maybe one of them was also named Hayley. Probably not Alice. Or what about the boys? They could be called Hayley too. It was…<
br />
  What?

  “Step forward, Squire,” Erin ordered, a fist landing on her hip.

  “Sorry, sorry, I…” Hayley scrabbled out of place, well aware that every other recruit suddenly gave her a wide berth. She had no idea what to do. After shuffling closer to Erin, Hayley paused mid-stride. Her original survival plan only got as far as waiting until the other knights were distracted, grabbing a sword off the rack, running for the far wall, and trying to scale it before anyone caught on.

  What was she supposed to do now?

  The Knight-Captain pursed her lips tighter, nearly turning them white. “Get to your knight, Squire.”

  “Yes, okay, got it…” Hayley bobbed her head low, practically bum rushing towards Gavin. All around her people were either pointing, sneering, or laughing. Only he remained stoic, his body barely shifting as she had to slow up fast to keep from ramming her head into him. Dirt scattered in her wake, her flimsy shoes scrabbling as she shifted back and forth trying to find her place.

  For a brief moment, a hand landed upon her shoulder, keeping her in place. Her manic movements stopped and she glanced up to watch the man withdraw his arm off her and behind his back. Not a word left his lips, which remained neutral as if she hadn’t made a total fool of herself.

  The rest of the knights stepped forward to claim their prizes. Alice went off with a stout woman who had a dagger on her thigh. A knight so skinny he’d probably be able to slip through the bars of most dungeons picked up Abed, and the final Serpent guard picked the last girl. Hayley was trying to pay attention to the proceedings, but the blood pooling in her brain made it a little difficult. She wasn’t being told, “Sorry, maybe next time.” She wasn’t being escorted to the wagon by the guards. She wasn’t being rolled back to the dungeons to wait for her last minute in the sun.

  She was alive.

  And she was also a squire. What in damnation came next?

  The other knights and their squires all twisted in place, some speaking to their charges, others silently leading them towards some other door Hayley hadn’t spotted before. Knight Gavin chose the silent route, turning on his heels as he walked with measured strides. Should she ask questions or was that bad? Hayley cast a quick eye to the sides, watching as the other squires all seemed to know right away what to do. For a brief second, Larissa’s pert lips opened wide and a polite giggle broke from between them. It sounded more fraudulent than the copper slugs Hayley’d try to pass off on merchants, but that Knight — Frederick — seemed charmed by it.

  “Keep up, squire,” a voice ordered and she blanched upon realizing it was aimed at her. Swallowing down the urge to grovel, she increased her gait.

  “Yes, um…” She tipped her head to the side, trying to listen to what the squires called their would-be Knights. Master seemed a possibility. It reeked of that whole apprenticeship thing people like her could never hope to touch. But the others ended their responses another way.

  Sensing the amber eyes on her, Hayley glanced towards the shadowed man who passed under the long gaze of the stands. “Yes, my Lord,” she said, her head dipping lower.

  When a rolling chuckle was the response her eyebrow raised high, Hayley looking up to find Gavin stepping closer to her. “I am no Lord,” he said. Despite looking like a man who could wrestle a bear to the ground, his voice was breathy and soft, soothing like a feather against a cheek.

  “But the others all…” Hayley jabbed her thumb towards the rest of the squires who were all saying Lord this, Lady that at the drop of a hat.

  Her knight — merciful saints, she had a knight — glanced over but a moment before saying, “They are of noble birth.”

  “And you’re not,” Hayley filled in, her muted grey eyes meeting directly with her knight’s. Shit, was that wrong? Should she always look away in deference? Before she could glance back at the ground, a hand patted against her shoulder blade.

  “A fact we share in common, I imagine,” he said. His tone was as beige as grey paint, but there was a twinkle in his eye. She moved to smile when a hiss whistled through Hayley’s teeth her eyes whipping over to her bruised shoulder. Pain spidered up her side and burned into her brain. Biting into the fleshy part of her cheek, Hayley tried to shake it off, but her knight gave her injury a once over.

  “We should see that looked at first before any other measures are taken.”

  “Uh…” Hayley stared at her shoulder, then stupidly jabbed a finger against it to remind herself that yes it was bruised, and touching it made it hurt worse. “Okay.” Scrabbling in the packed dirt, her shoes nearly reaching the end of their miserable life, Hayley gave chase after the man.

  “Incidentally, you can address me as Ser, which should be sufficient for any knight you meet.”

  He said it over his shoulder without a care, but Hayley tasted the unspoken words mixed in there. Just how much did this stranger know about who she was? What she was? Remembering the whispers and pursed lips when her name was called, how badly did they try to warn him about her? A sinking feeling that she was leaping from the frying pan and into the fire sunk in her gut, but Hayley didn’t have time to ruminate upon it. She was too busy chasing after a knight.

  “Let me have a look.” Hands pickled from every manner of tincture and ointment one could find at an alchemist shop yanked at Hayley’s sleeve. The force was enough to rip it off. She’d have felt perturbed at the handling if she didn’t hate the tunic. Maybe her knight would give her a stipend. The first thing she’d buy would be a new one. Or maybe shoes, then a shirt if there was coin left over.

  “Gah!” Hayley shrieked, her hand lashing out to slap the old woman away from prodding at her injury. She stopped herself just before making contact, but it wasn’t easy. They sat in a small alcove in an outer ring circling the arena proper. A torch blazed on the wall, causing more sweat to drip down Hayley’s ass crack. While her swampy backside stewed away, her knight stepped back and forth on his feet. He’d been steady as the mountains in the arena, but suddenly he couldn’t cease fidgeting.

  “It’s a bruise,” the healer announced, her head swiveling up to Gavin. She hadn’t looked Hayley in the eye the whole time.

  He sighed, “I am aware. Can you do anything to help?”

  “Time.” The woman’s fingers eased up and she softly palpated around the injury. “Or maybe leeches. Hm…” Now she pivoted around in her chair to stare right at Hayley’s face. The drooping eyes darted across Hayley’s high forehead, down her crooked nose, and to the indent in her chin.

  “She’s got pockmarks all over her face,” the woman announced with a shrug. Hayley flinched, her fingertips swiping up over the cheek no one would ever describe as smooth as cream. “But seeing as how there aren’t any on her body,” the old woman yanked at the hem on Hayley’s shirt, exposing a sliver of her sunburnt stomach to the world, “I’d guess it’s due to the changing tides of adolescence than a case of the pox.”

  The hag flipped in her chair to stare right up at Gavin. He seemed hesitant to look over at either of them, but sensing the gaze said, “That’s…good?”

  “No idea if there’s anything worse on her…”

  “You could just bloody ask me,” Hayley snarled, yanking her shirt back and trying to cover her pocked but apparently acceptable enough skin.

  For a breath, the woman glanced over at that, but she didn’t say anything save a tut-tutting of her tongue. “Wrap the wound if you please, Knight-Captain, but given her dour color and temperament I would advise against bloodletting.”

  “Thank you, milady,” Gavin said without a waver in his voice. He bowed his head deeply, bringing a bit of color to the old witch’s cheeks. Hers were covered in wrinkles and sags, but Hayley was nice enough to not make a big deal out of it, unlike some people. Absently, Hayley traced her fingers over the dips and divots on her cheeks. When she too felt the amber gaze landing on her, she looked up expectantly but tried to hide away the scars with her palms.

  “Come with me,” was all he
said, already walking off towards the next big humiliation. Maybe the fashion houses of the upper crust would all throw stones at her for dressing in the burlap. Or high-class debutants would mock her terrible posture and speech. For a moment her eyes trailed out to the emptied arena, Hayley wondering if being wrapped up in chains and dragged away wouldn’t have been preferable to this ‘treatment.’

  No. Focus on the now. Just…do whatever’s told of you, make a show, and when the opportunity arrives run like the hounds of hell are on your heels. Maybe that’d be the next stop, to feed some of her blood to the hellhounds.

  They turned a corner and Hayley cringed. Sitting around a small table were the other chosen squires, Larissa laughing and shaking her fire hair so it shimmered by the torchlight. Her eye drifted away from Alice and the slab of bread towards the scraggly girl trapped in the doorway.

  “Wait here,” Gavin ordered, extending a hand towards the other squires as if she’d be excited to be left with them. With that, he wandered off in some other direction, leaving Hayley scratching at her pockmark-less stomach and snarling.

  Hellhounds would have been much better companions.

  It took a minute for the other squires to bother coming at her. Not with blows to the head or anything like that. They all remained camped around their food — clay plates slopping back and forth while the quiet one, Marco, ladled a thick gravy-soup onto each. Larissa, of course, began it.

  “We hone our bodies, our minds, our very souls…strive to reach a greater understanding of our Lord’s deeds and duties,” the redhead’s bushy brows both dipped low as she swung her glare over at Hayley, “only to have a bumbling fool enter into our ranks.”

  The other squires all shifted in their seats, but none looked as if they intended to rush to Hayley’s aid. If anything, they seemed to be in agreement. The scent of “this is bullshit” wafted in the air. Shrugging, with a sloppy smile splattering on her cheeks, Hayley drifted closer to Larissa. Propped up on an old pickle barrel, she had the bearing of a queen.