The Child of Fire and Earth - Secret Chapter



Knights visit the humble vilage of Honiford.





“Dad, I’m bored.” Hew reckoned he needed to mention it at least once more, in case the last five times hadn’t been heard.


“Well, son, we need to test the field. Winter’s been slow to leave, but it should be soft enough to plant soon. The crops can’t plant themselves, can they?”


Sighing from the bottom of his toes, Hew swished at the ground with a stick, trying to find spots that weren’t as hard as iron. Half the village was out doing the same, but most of the kids were at the other end of the field, leaving him with the boring grown-ups.


A noise drew his attention to the path that led to the village. Geva, his little sister, was running towards them.


“Dad, Hew, everyone!” she yelled, her voice high pitched and excited. “You’ll never guess what I’ve just seen.”


Hew strolled over, glad for any reason to stop working. A handful of other villagers had reached her first, though, so he pushed closer to hear what the fuss was about.


“A knight?” Benger said, his head sweating from toiling in the field. “Here? Geva, you’ve gone soft in the head.”


The young girl stuck her tongue out at him. “Have not. Mum told me to tell you. Not just one knight, but two, and their servants.”


This was just too exciting to miss. Hew raced ahead of the villagers, down the path, past the forge, and into the village green.


The first thing he noticed were the horses. Six of them, tethered at one end of the green, they were far larger than the shaggy cart horses they used around the farm. Padded cloth hung on the magnificent creatures as they nuzzled on bags of oats.


The next thing he noticed were the servants, though he overheard some people call them ‘squires’, whatever that meant. They were rushing around, holding plates of food and goblets of drink for the knights.


At first sight, Hew had to admit he was somewhat disappointed at the knights. He expected them to be wearing their armour, shining brightly in the spring sunshine. Instead, they looked just like ordinary people, even though they carried swords at their hip.


But the more he looked, the more he could spot the difference. Old Joop the blacksmith was talking to one of them. Bent over, muscular arms covered in soot, he looked a dirty and poor sight compared to the clean and impressive knight. They spoke about metalwork and making swords, and at one point the blonde knight drew his and flourished it magnificently. The crowd surrounding him gave an appreciative, “Ooohh.”


The dark-haired knight next to him seemed bored by it all. More villagers crowded round, and he stood by himself, eating and drinking whilst the blonde-haired knight laughed and spoke with everyone he met.


Ralf stepped up and spoke to the knight. Hew didn’t hear what he asked, but he heard the response. “Of course, we can show you the basics of using a sword. Anyone interested, gather round.” Ralf smiled like he’d been given a basketful of sausages.


The blonde-haired knight cleared some space around him on the green, whilst the dark-haired knight stood back and watched impassively. Menfolk from the village, from young children to the older parents, brought sticks or hoes or brooms to be practice swords.


“Now,” the blonde knight said, “start off with some simple swings. Imagine a line going straight up and down.” He swung his sword over his head and straight down in front of him. “Or, at a diagonal, like this.” He swung again, this time in a diagonal line from right to left.


The villagers swung their sticks, trying to copy him. Hew couldn’t help himself; he joined in with his weeding stick. For just that joyous moment, he could pretend to be something other than a farmer. As he swung, he imagined slaying dragons, rescuing princesses, and having that same air of self-confidence and strength these knights had.


They didn’t stay long. Shortly after the sword lesson, the dark-haired knight whispered to the blonde one, and the squires packed away their things. Moments later, the visit by the knights was just a memory, but one that would be on everyone’s lips for weeks.


Hew wandered back home, the sun hanging low over the hills, and swung his stick again, pretending to be a knight. “Take that, villain, and that,” he said, swinging to emphasise his words.


Geva spotted him. He immediately felt embarrassed, and it wasn’t helped when she said, “You look stupid.”


His face flushed. “Yeah, well, you look more stupid.”


She stuck her tongue out at him, and he chased her back home, swinging his stick to trip her up, but she was too fast for him. They raced into their house as he almost caught her. Before he could say anything, Geva ran to Mum and started crying.


“Mum, Hew’s hitting me with his stick.”


Hew gasped. “Mum, Geva's being rude!”


They chased each other around the table, Geva small enough to duck under when he almost caught her.


“Now, stop it, both of you,” Mum shouted. “Geva, stop being rude to your brother. Hew, stop chasing your sister.”


They both stopped running and stared at their toes. “Yes, Mum,” they grumbled.


“Good,” said Mum. “It’s nearly tea time. Wash your hands, both of you, then come to the table.” Geva stuck her tongue out again as she raced to the water bucket. Sighing, Hew flung his stick in the corner. Maybe tomorrow he could go somewhere quiet like the forest and pretend to be a knight, somewhere Geva wouldn’t be so annoying.