Free Glendalough Fair by James L. Nelson Page B

grievous injury you do me.”
    He understood now exactly what Father Finnian was after and he knew very well how to deliver it. He had doled out such lessons many times before, to arrogant young bucks all puffed up with themselves who had come to join his men-at-arms.
    “Go on,” Finnian said, looking at Lochlánn and gesturing toward Louis, who now had fighting room around him. Lochlánn pulled his sword and tossed the scabbard aside. He held the sword in a way that told Louis quite a bit. The young man was not entirely unfamiliar with weapons – he had had some training – but neither was he very well practiced in swordplay.
    A little knowledge, dangerous, dangerous , Louis thought, and as he did Lochlánn took a wild lunge. It was too awkward to warrant much of a response, so Louis flicked his blade sideways and knocked the attack out of line and then stepped aside so the stumbling Lochlánn did not fall into him. As the young man staggered past, Louis gave him a firm whack on the backside with the flat of his sword.
    Lochlánn straightened and turned and his face was red with anger.
    “Don’t get angry,” Louis said. “You’ll lose every time.”
    Lochlánn made a growling sound and advanced, more cautiously this time. Louis extended his sword and Lochlánn began to parry it, but then made a quick circle around Louis’s blade, a move he no doubt thought was very clever, and lunged again. Once again Louis carelessly knocked the blade aside, stepped in and hit Lochlánn even harder on the backside, stepping clear as Lochlánn tried to counterstroke.
    “You Frankish whore’s son,” Lochlánn growled and Louis shook his head.
    “What did I tell you?” Louis said. “Don’t get mad.” The boy was hopeless. Louis lowered his sword so the point was resting on the ground and gave Lochlánn his most arrogant smirk, one that was certain to send the young man into paroxysms of fury, which it did.
    He came at Louis one more time. Subtlety had not worked with the last pass, so this time he tried brute strength, swinging hard with the sword. Louis held his own blade up and let the steel take the force of Lochlánn’s blow. He felt the impact in his hand – Lochlánn was not a small boy, nor was he weak – but he managed to check the blow as if Lochlánn’s sword had struck a wall.
    They held one another’s blades, just for an instant, than Louis twisted his wrist and brought the flat of his sword down hard on Lochlánn’s hand. Lochlánn shouted in pain and dropped his sword. Louis stepped in once again and once again hit the young man hard on the rump, then grabbed his arm, spun him around and kicked him in that same place which sent him sprawling to the ground.
    “Hmmm,” Finnian said, looking down at Lochlánn, who had turned over and was glaring up at the two of them. “I am happy you did not harm Brother Louis. Now run along and please think twice before you treat any of the other boys like they’re your slaves to be beaten and ordered about.”
    Lochlánn scowled at Finnian and then at Louis. He looked as if he was going to say something but thought better of it, scrambled to his feet and made his way from the stable as quickly as his last bit of dignity would allow.
    “Thank you, Brother,” Finnian said to Louis. He bent over and retrieved Lochlánn’s sword. “I fear young Brother Lochlánn will not learn all he should from that lesson, but it’s a start.”
    “He might,” Louis said. “He might not. I’ve seen plenty of his sort. Some turn out well. No doubt he’ll be one.” He tried and failed to put some conviction in his voice.
    “We must pray for him,” Finnian said with considerable more sincerity on his tone.
    More prayer , Louis thought. Compline, vespers, mass, all we do is pray, I haven’t the energy for one more .
    “Are you still in need of me?” Louis asked, and by that he meant, have I not paid off my debt to you for saving me ?
    “Yes, there is more we need to