Free Honour and the Sword by A. L. Berridge

impossible, but then he would be, you’ll understand when you meet him. He just said ‘It’s not right, Jacques, not fitting at all, Bible says everyone should be in their place.’ I couldn’t blame him really, everything about André was just screaming nobility, no one could mistake him for anything else.
    I’d got to teach him. By noon there were soldiers already drifting back into Ancre to see if there was anything left to steal, so I kept the boy in the barn and suggested he start learning how to be a peasant.
    ‘Well, if you like,’ he said, puzzled. ‘I’m ready.’
    He wasn’t, he wasn’t anything like bloody ready, it was virtually impossible just getting that sword off him for a start. I finally got him to understand that conquered peasants don’t carry swords and he’d get caught in a second if he did, but he still wouldn’t let me near it.
    ‘I’ll hide it myself,’ he said. ‘A gentleman shouldn’t allow anyone else to handle his sword, it’s a matter of honour.’
    I wondered if that applied to cleaning it, but thought it better not to ask. I just watched as he carried his sword to the hole in the rafters and stretched up to put it inside.
    He couldn’t reach. I waited for him to ask me, but he just went to the other wall and started to roll a hay bale across instead. His face was red with the effort, but he’d got far too much pride to let me help him. He got it there at last, stood on it and solemnly stowed his sword next to the arquebus.
    ‘There,’ he said, stepping down a bit breathlessly. ‘Now we’re done.’
    I hesitated.
    ‘What?’ he said impatiently. ‘I look right, don’t I?’
    It was the way he sounded. He spoke too loudly, like he didn’t care who heard him, he spoke too nicely, with all proper words and no patois. I suggested nervously that if there were soldiers around he maybe wouldn’t mind not saying anything at all.
    He sniffed. ‘Why on earth would I want to speak to a Spaniard?’
    ‘Quite,’ I said quickly. ‘Good. Now maybe just a bit of work on the way you move.’
    I walked up and down the barn so he could watch how I did it, and he looked at me aghast.
    ‘That’s ridiculous. You look like an old woman.’
    I thought that was rude actually, since I was just showing how I normally walked, but I suppose he’d never noticed. I coaxed him into trying, but it was hopeless, he’d start out right but just got taller with every step. At last he got fed up and just stopped.
    ‘This is stupid, I’m not doing this. If there are soldiers around, I can always sit down.’
    I felt suddenly uneasy. ‘Well, yes, but you’ll have to stand if they talk or anything, you’ve got to show respect.’
    He was stretching his arms, but stopped in mid air. ‘I’ve what?’
    I recognized the tone, and saw his eyes were getting narrow, but I had to explain, this was something he’d just got to understand.
    I said ‘You know, lower your head, don’t look at them. I mean they’ve conquered us, we’ve got to be submissive.’
    He looked at me in silence for a moment, then spoke very quietly. ‘I don’t mind outwitting the Spaniards, that’s part of war. But I am never going to submit to them, and you need to understand that right now.’
    I didn’t dare answer. He nodded dismissively, announced he was ready for lunch, and started calmly down the ladder.
    I think that’s when I started to realize what I was really up against. The problem wasn’t his voice or his walk or anything like that, it was what was inside his head. There was nothing I could do to change him, I’d been stupid to think I could. The only way to keep him safe was make sure he never saw the soldiers at all.
    But that was impossible too. They were still all over the estate the next day, but André wanted to go riding and couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t let him. We’d moved the horses back to their own stables, which had already been searched and stripped bare, but it was madness to