Chapter 4: Polishing Swords
After the washing up, Will had given Bo and Johan leave to do as they wished, as long as they got back to their beds before the doors were locked at sundown. Bo promised that he would be able to make his way back by the allotted time and Johan said something about finding a girl he'd been eyeing off. Slyly, the other brasser asked if Bo had someone he also wanted to go and visit, but the teen had to admit that he hadn't seen any girls that interested him. Instead, Bo slipped away, heading back to the training grounds. He was tired of the steam from the dish washing and was more than happy to be out in the cool afternoon air.
The square in front of the armoury was deserted, as everyone had finished fighting for the day and were doing other things. Bo was a little disappointed to miss the display but with a wistful sigh he imagined the noble knights must be learning to read and write, or to perform magic (if real life was anything like his favourite stories). The teen cautiously wandered over to a fence that ran a part of the way around the training field. It was wooden and sturdy, but he could tell it was quite old from the nicks, cuts, and dents in it, and the toughened sun bleached wood. Leaning on the fence, and plucking idly at a large splinter of wood, Bo wondered about the weapon rack earlier that day. He wanted to know why his collar hadn't gone off when he was brushing the weapons away. He was sure he couldn't have avoided touching them with his bared skin. In the end the curious teen decided it was because he hadn't actually picked any of them up - after all, Will had said that it was only if a brasser picked up a weapon that they were in trouble. Bo's fingers went to his collar, prodding at it tentatively. The surface felt grainy under his touch, rather than smooth, as though it had been deliberately roughened to make it dull.
'Not prod at collar too much, yez? Not vant it to … choke' Bo jumped in surprise, letting out an undignified yelp. Alexander was standing within arms reach, and Bo hadn't even heard the man approach. The teen was rendered mute by a sudden twisting anxiety as Alexander seemed to loom beside him. Was he not supposed to be here alone? Was he going to be in trouble? Alexander, however seemed to be waiting for a reply, his bushy eyebrows were drawn into a frown, shading his beady blue eyes. In one hand he was holding a heavy looking piece of timber, and in the other a leather bag.
'Y-yes. I mean no. Mister, Sir, Alexander.' Bo quickly looked at the ground. No one had told him how to address people, and he was well aware that he should be giving titles to those in stations of power. Alexander grunted impatiently, shifting his grip on the wooden beam. Alexander's arms were thick with muscles despite the fact that his stomach jutted out a good way from his body. His legs, in comparison seemed smaller and less impressive than the rest of him.
'Vhy you not vorkink? You haff nothing to do?' Bo glanced up anxiously. He wished to fidget, but something about Alexander demanded that he should stand still.
'Will said that we had nothing left to do.' The teen answered truthfully. Alexander's frown deepened.
'Then you find something, yez. Not sit around lookink at ground. I find you something. Come follow.' With that, the weapons master trudged heavily back to the storehouse, carrying his bag and his wood. Uncertainly, Bo jogged after him, finding, again, that the portly man moved with a surprisingly quick pace.
The store room was still quite dim, with dry air, and long beams of light intruding into it from the setting sun. Bo paused to smell the scent of metal, oil and leather. It was very agreeable. The scent of pine, or wood was much stronger than before. Following Alexander, Bo noticed that many of the racks had been pushed aside to create an open space at the centre of the lower floor. In this space there were two small wooden crates, and resting on those crates there were a number of wooden planks. The planks had already been cut up roughly, and a number of chunks had been chiselled out all along the length of them. Quickly Bo realised that this was a new weapon rack in the making. To the right there was a neatly piled stack of practice blades, waiting for their new accommodation. Alexander set down the wood he was carrying carefully, and then lowered the bag, which clinked gently like a nobleman's purse. The man straightened with a grunt. He turned to glare at Bo who was standing awkwardly wondering what to do.
'Polish swords. Iz cloth over there, iz swords over there.' Alexander commanded, pointing first to a rag with a tin of polish and then to the stack of swords. Bo froze in horror, wondering if he should plead with Alexander. It was clear that Alexander knew what he was asking of Bo, leading the brasser to wonder if the weapon master was being deliberately cruel.
'I zay do thiz, so no trouble vith collar for you. I am allow to do zis.'
The man explained in broken speech, seeing Bo's distress and rightly guessing the cause of it. Anxiously, Bo slunk over to the rag and pot of polish. He'd polished things before and he knew how it was supposed to work, so there was no trouble there. Next he moved over to the pile of swords. He could feel Alexander's beady eyes on his back, although when he glanced over his shoulder the man was rearranging the wooden planks and pulling large nails out of the bag he had brought in. Carefully, Bo reached out to touch the handle of a sword. It was bound in leather that was starting to wear thin. As nothing happened the teen grew more bold and picked up the weapon. Nothing happened. Breathing a sigh of relief Bo sat gratefully on a nearby stool and began to polish. He and Alexander worked in silence for a while, as the sun sank lower and lower outside, and the shadows grew longer. At about the time the magic light globes flickered on overhead, Alexander began to speak again. He was covered in sweat, and even though Bo wasn't doing anything nearly as strenuous as hammering and sawing, so was he. The heat inside the armoury was intense, and it did not matter whether a person was sitting still or doing work – they would be sweating almost as soon as they entered. Luckily though, the air was quick to cool as night time came around.
'Zo you are new.' Alexander said, in between the pounding of his hammer. Bo didn't reply, feeling that it was a statement rather than a question. He still wasn't easy around Alexander, and he suspected he never would be. 'Vhat iz age. How old?'
'Fiftee-er sixteen.' Answered Bo awkwardly, over the sounds of construction. Alexander paused and gave him a curious look. 'I forgot it was my birthday today,' the teen mumbled miserably, having been forced to recall the unfairness of his situation. There was a careful silence from the weapons master, as they both got back to work.
Concentrating on the polishing work to help keep his mind occupied, Bo was surprised when Alexander's thick hand clamped down on his shoulder. In fright Bo fumbled the sword we was polishing and it fell with a dull clang onto the ground. The teen's arms ached from polishing, and he was glad that it looked like he could stop.
'Iz good work' Alexander said, picking up one of the polished blades. He looked amused, although the only way to tell was the wrinkles around his eyes that indicated he was smirking into his beard. 'Iz ztill many to go, but nearly time for zlave quarter to lockink.' Alexander pointed outside at the night, as if to help explain what he was talking about. It took Bo a second or two to realise that he was being dismissed and told to go back to his rooms. The teen leapt to his feet, suddenly worried that he might get locked out of his room. He had completely forgotten that he would be locked out if he waited for too long. No doubt that would be trouble, and he didn't want more trouble on top of everything else that had happened that day. Before he could dash away, Alexander propelled Bo towards the crates where he'd been working. The rack was complete, and Bo tried to remember when he'd heard the hammering stop. It looked very rough, and certainly wasn't the work of a master carpenter, but it was no better or worse than any of the other racks.
'Vait for leetle second.' Demanded Alexander walking away. Bo anxiously waited, hoping Alexander wouldn't take too long. He needn't have worried, however, as the weapon master was back moments later with what looked to be a first aid kit. It stood to reason that there might be one, so close to the field where fighters were trained – in case of minor wounds. Alexander held
out one scarred hand, waiting for Bo to give up his bandaged appendage. The teen did so apprehensively and Alexander carefully unwrapped the wound. He was firm about removing the bandage carefully and slowly from the skin, joking that Bo wouldn't want his tattoo ruined. Bo held his tongue, not saying that he couldn't care less if the tattoo was wrecked. Once the wound was revealed, Alexander whistled through his teeth. Looking at his hand, Bo could see why. The entire back of his hand had a deep red tint, and shone dully in the light of the lanterns overhead. Alexander got a cloth and gently wiped the area clean with some water. Bo flinched at the touch. It was just as painful as it had been yesterday. Seeing that the wound had not been well cared for, Alexander dug out a cream from the first aid bag. He explained that it was full of herbs that were used specifically to keep wounds clean and to fight infection. It hadn't been used for a long time, as many of his fighters these days knew enough magic to heal their smaller wounds themselves, almost as soon as they got them. Bo worried that the cream would sting, as he had known other such remedies to do (such as vinegar or alcohol) but it was cool, and soothed the pain to a small degree. Alexander applied it surprisingly gently, his expression unchanging. Next he grabbed a few clean bandages, making a pad with a small length that he placed over the tattoo, and using the longer bandage to wrap the limb firmly, but not tightly. It was a much better job than the mage had done the previous day.
'Keep out of vater, also, make sure iz not left in open air, yez?' Bo nodded mutely, wondering why anyone would go to such bother for a slave. He hadn't thought of Alexander as being a nice person, but on further consideration, the man had also personally taken care of looking for the stricken brasser earlier that day. It was difficult to reconcile the man he saw now with the bawling weapon master with a whipstick that he had first encountered. It seemed Will was right in what he had said earlier about Alexander being 'okay'.
'Thank you, my hand is feeling much better.' Bo felt thanks were in order. No doubt if it was one of his heroic tales they would be required at this point, and he did not want to lose his sense of chivalry, despite being a slave. Alexander grinned wolfishly, his teeth appearing to be extra white in contrast to his bushy black beard.
'Not vant hand to fall off – how vould you polish veapons if only one hand?' Bo scowled, it looked like he wasn't free of polishing blades just yet. He wondered if he should revise his thoughts about Alexander being kind. The weapon master chuckled to himself at Bo's expression. 'Come back ven have more free time, yez? I not vant to see sittink, lookink at ground.'
'Yes sir,' mumbled Bo. His bright green eyes looked away from the grinning weapon master to his newly bandaged hand, and he flexed it to make sure the movement wasn't overly restricted, wincing as the pain flared up again. Alexander turned on his heel and began neatly packing up the items he had taken out of the first aid box, which Bo took as a dismissal. Before Alexander could go giving him more chores to do, Bo scampered away, slipping out the doors and hurrying back toward the slave quarters, worried that he might be locked out if he dallied any longer.
The entire castle looked different at night. Bo could see light shining from the windows high above, and the courtyard below was cast in a deep shadow. The night air quickly cooled Bo's sweat soaked clothes, making him shiver slightly at the chill. It certainly didn't help that he had no hair on his head to help keep in the warmth. Self consciously the teen ran a hand over his naked scalp. He'd never had all his hair cut off before and he wasn't sure he liked the feeling, even if it did prove he was free of lice and fleas. There was a rough shout from just up ahead, and Bo froze. The voice was familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. Small prickles of fear ran down his back as figures emerged from the shadows in the courtyard, although it was only when they were quite close that he could see it was Aaron and his cronies from earlier. They didn't look pleased at all. Some of them sported dark bruises as though they he'd been knocked down a flight of stairs.
'Oi you. We wanna have a word with Will, where is he?' Bo looked at the the large group which was already spreading out before him to keep him from fleeing. Back in The Gutter there would have been ample opportunity to flee down the maze of alleyways, but here Bo was caught out in the open. The teen still thought he might be able to outrun them if he could slip past, but where would he run to, and would he get lost or locked out if he was forced to hide? In either case, he could see they meant Will no good. Bo clenched his teeth determinedly; he wouldn't rat out his friend even if he did know where the pale-eyed slave was.
'Sorry, I don't know where he is. He said-' The main aggressor stepped up to Bo, treading on one of the teen's feet so he couldn't step back and shoving him hard in the chest. Bo promptly fell to the ground, landing heavily.
Lemme ask again. See I saw how cozy you all was. Lemme ask, where is Will, and you'll just tell me insteada trying to be his chum. You only known him one day, right? Well Master Sir gave us all a good speakin' to about that matter today about my brassers. He told me that Will ratted us all out, so we all got the hides flayed off our backs.' Bo spat angrily at Aaron.
'I reckon you deserved everythin' you got, yer lard arsed, slack jawed, know nothing!' The larger teen leaned down and picked up Bo with one hand, holding tight to the brasser's shirt so that he couldn't escape. Bo wanted badly to hit back at the older slave, but his hand was stayed by the thought of setting off his collar.
'Go on then. I seen that look. You wanna hit me? why doncha?' taunted Aaron with a knowing smirk. He clearly felt very safe with his silver collar firmly around his throat. Bo looked over the other teens shoulder trying to restrain his anger.
'Tell yer what, seeing as you don't know where Will is right now, how aboucha take him a message for me?' One of the other boys chuckled humourlessly. Aaron sank a fist into Bo's gut, keeping a firm grasp of the teen to ensure that he wouldn't escape. The brasser was winded from the first blow, but despite the pain he squirmed weakly, trying to wriggle out of his shirt to flee. Aaron threw a punch that caught Bo across his cheek and nearly knocked him senseless, as he was unable to roll with the punch and mitigate the damage with Aaron holding him so firmly. Slumping in Aaron's grasp, and still gasping for breath, Bo didn't have the strength to fight back, even if his collar had permitted him to. Aaron let him go and the smaller teen fell to his knees coughing painfully, raising his good arm weakly to shield against the kicks that Aaron started aiming at him. It was uncertain how long the beating was meant to go on, but at that point there was a commotion overhead and the blows stopped raining down. Groggily Bo looked up, feeling his cheek swelling already from the punch. Alexander had appeared like some kind of nightmare from the darkness. The enraged weapon master slapped Aaron across the face with his whipstick, growling contemptuously,
'Not hittink people who cannot fight back, yez?' The hypocrisy was clear even to Bo – Aaron wouldn't be able to hit back at Alexander without setting off his own collar. The silver collared slave's eyes sparkled with barely restrained fury as a fresh red stripe appeared across his face. His eyes started watering with the sting, but he was forced to respond to Alexander.
'Sorry, Sir.' He spat. Alexander dismissed the group, eyeing them angrily. The older man looked more serious than Bo had seen him before, with the shadows falling across his face, making his expression menacing. The small teen could only imagine the horror of being faced with a serious, sword wielding Alexander, and thanked whoever was in the realm of the gods that was looking after him that he hadn't irritated the portly man earlier that day. Bo picked himself up shakily before he could be helped up, not wanting to seem weak. Alexander waited until the other slaves were out of sight before he turned to Bo, handing him a small leather pouch.
'You leave before I geev you birthday gift, zo I come find you. Iz lucky, but next time vill not be lucky. Make sure not runnink into them again.' Alexander warned. Bo looked down at the pouch in his hands. He wasn't sure that he was meant to own things, as a slave, but if Alexander had given it to him, he wasn
't going to refuse.
'Come, ve go to your room. I vant to zpeak to Jayne, zlave mazter, zo I vill go vith you.'
Bo had never gotten a birthday gift before, so he didn't quite know what to do with it. Was he supposed to save it and open it in private? Or was he supposed to open it now? As if sensing his thoughts Alexander smiled toothily at him,
'You can open gift now, or you vait for Vinter?' Bo looked up at the man questioningly, privately wondering if it really was a joke. The weapons master chuckled,
'You open now. Iz okay, I am makink joke yez?' Bo remained blank face, but began to examine the leather pouch so that Alexander wouldn't see that he had been more confused than amused. There was a thin drawstring that was tied in a loose knot to keep the bag closed. Unpicking the knot as he walked, Bo carefully opened the pouch and looked inside. There was the tin of cream Alexander had used on his hand, along a few rolls of fresh bandages. The teen pulled out the small tin of cream, feeling its weight. It was nearly full. Surely good medicine like that had to be worth a lot and he was half tempted to keep it for selling when- if he won free of his slavery.
'Thank you, sir, mister Alexander.' Alexander waved off the thank you with one pudgy hand.
'Iz fine. Call me Zir, not thiz zir, meester Alexander. Iz too silly. Make sure to put cream on tattoo every day. Iz good for makink it heal quvickly, so you can get back to vork.' Alexander continued looking where he was going. He didn't bother adding that it was more usual to give some kind of a weapon to a young man to acknowledge that the recipient had become an adult, knowing that in Bo's case the teen wouldn't be allowed to keep such a gift. Alexander cleared his throat gruffly. He felt that he must be getting old and senile, to be fond already of the slave, but there were many such people that Alexander was fond of. What did it matter if he grew fond of them over a month, or a week, or even a day? He already knew he would have to watch Bo carefully, but perhaps by good luck Bo was the kind of person he would already happily watch over, even if he hadn't felt it was a part of his duty to the castle.
Walking through the slave quarters, Bo was assaulted by the smell. It wasn't as bad as the streets he had walked for most of his life, but it wasn't as pleasant as the armoury. Alexander's expression didn't change, and Bo had to wonder if the older man's nose was actually working or not. Getting to his room, Bo reached out to pull the door open when someone yanked it open from the inside and stepped out, knocking right into Bo. With a whispered gasp of surprise Will leapt back silently, as Bo was nearly bowled over by the unexpected encounter.
'Bo! I told you to get back before lockup! We-' Will's eyes glimmered in the half-light as he observed Alexander standing a safe distance away. The white haired boy froze, an anxious grin plastered over his face.
'Hey there, Mister Alexander! We – I was just about to go out searching for Bo. I was just a bit worried that he hadn't come back yet.' Will was using a very quiet voice, trying not to attract trouble. Alexander snorted in disbelief at the boy's story. He pointed at Bo,
'This iz Bo? Iz okay now, Bo iz back you can go back to bed, yez?' Will looked like he wanted to argue, but there was something about the way Alexander had said 'yez' that made it clear that the weapon master knew Will was breaking all the rules. Will paused, his eyes pleading with Alexander for leniency, but the weapon master remained unmoved. Will bowed deeply.
'Of course, Mister Alexander, Sir. Thank you for bringing him back safe and sound.' Bo was quickly dragged into the room before he had a chance to thank Alexander, and the door was quietly closed. There was the distinct 'click' as it was locked from the outside, and Will grumbled about bad timing. He turned to Bo, nothing more than a shadow in the dark room.
'Why weren't you back on time? I thought you promised? And why were you walking with Mister Alexander? Did you get into trouble?' Bo explained what had happened, although his words were somewhat muffled by a swollen cheek. Will clucked disapprovingly.
'I underestimated Master Sir. He has some real balls, beating up Aaron and lumping me with the blame. He can't personally beat me up just because he doesn't like me, but they certainly can.' Will seemed to shrug off the thought as something he would have to deal with later before turning back to Bo with a grin that was visible even in the darkness,
'We were just headed out for a stroll. There's a party in the upper castle. You aren't strictly allowed to go, bein a brasser an all, but would you like to come see something special?' Bo paused in thought. He felt tired after the busy day, and many parts of him ached painfully, but something about Will's tone of voice promised one last excitement, and the teen couldn't readily chicken out in front of his new friend.
'What is it?' He asked curiously. Will chuckled in the dark.
'You'll have to wait and find out Bo.'