Free Keeper of the Grail by Michael P. Spradlin Page A

came at me. I saw it begin its downward arc, and there was nothing I could do but jump quickly to the side. The weapon cut through the air right where I had been standing moments before.
    He moved back around me in a half circle, raising the sword again. When his hands started downward, I moved to the side, stumbling over the sword that I’d dropped. This time I fell to the ground on my knees. Sir Hugh’s sword swung down again where I had just been crouched before him.
    As Sir Hugh completed the swing, he stepped forward to follow through. As he brought the sword up and around again, I saw my only chance.
    With my left hand, I grabbed the fallen practice sword. As he stepped past me, I quickly thrust it between his legs at the ankles. It worked perfectly. He tripped on the wooden blade and fell headfirst into the dirt. He let out a shout of surprise and his tunic flew up, covering his head and shoulders.
    I quickly scampered to my feet while Sir Hugh shouted and cursed. He jumped to his feet, his face turning crimson and his eyes throwing fire in my direction. I couldn’t help but smile, which made his face go from crimson to purple.
    The brothers at St. Alban’s had always taught me to turn the other cheek. I should have remembered my station. He was the Marshal and should have been treated with the respect of his office. But I couldn’t help myself. I had done nothing to this man to deserve this treatment.
    “Perhaps I am not the weakest link after all, Sir Hugh,” I said. This brought a nervous laugh from the other squires. Even Sergeanto LeMaire snickered behind his hand.
    “You think you are funny? You think this is a game? I have had enough of you and your insolent…” He stopped talking and raised the sword again. I crouched and prepared to dodge.
    As Sir Hugh lifted the weapon above his head, a very large hand came from behind him and quickly tore the sword from his grip. It was Sir Basil. Then Sir Hugh went stumbling forward, tripping over the wooden sword and again flopping into the dirt.
    The next thing I knew, Sir Thomas was there, kneeling beside him. Sir Hugh rolled over and started to get to his feet, but Sir Thomas placed a hand on his chest and held him in place. Sir Basil stood a few feet away, twirling the sword in his giant hands. It looked like a toy in his grip.
    “What is the meaning of this? Remove your hand!” Sir Hugh said.
    Sir Thomas spoke in a low voice. So low that Sir Hugh, Sir Basil, Quincy and I were the only ones to hear him.
    “Know this,” he said, the rage in his tone barely contained. “I will never see anything like this again. Am I clear? You will not come near my squire under any circumstances. If you do, if anything happens to him, if he is injured in any way and I find out you are the cause of it, I will strike you down myself. You will not harm this boy. Nod to show that you understand me.”
    Sir Hugh’s face was as cold as stone and his eyes were full of poison. He looked at me and then at Sir Thomas and hissed, “You’re a fool. I know, Sir Thomas. Don’t think I don’t. We both know who he is. You think you can protect him? Ha. I hardly think so.”
    Sir Thomas cocked his head, his eyes boring into Sir Hugh for the briefest of moments. I felt my stomach clench, momentarily forgetting the pain in my arm and shoulder, and suddenly found it difficult to breathe. What did Sir Hugh mean? He knew something about my past?
    “You know nothing, Sir Hugh. Nothing at all. And let me be clear: this boy is now under my protection. I’m watching, Sir Hugh. My men are watching. If anything happens to him, you’ll be the first one I find.” Sir Thomas’ hand grasped hold of Sir Hugh’s tunic and he pulled him just inches from his face. “Do you understand me?”
    Sir Hugh’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t look frightened, but he knew that Sir Thomas, at least temporarily, had the upper hand. He barely nodded.
    “Excellent,” said Sir Thomas. “Now I am going to help