Free Echoes of Avalon (Tales of Avalon Book 1) by Adam Copeland Page B

building. He was the spiritual leader of the Greensprings community and caretaker of the church, and von Fiescher had sent the Avangarde to help him with manual labor. Patrick was one of many pulling on a chain that hoisted a huge stone crucifix skyward into the stained-glass dome above the pulpit.
    Father Hugh thought that it would be spiritually inspiring to suspend the massive piece of art at an angle in the colorful dome, high above the pews. The knights heaved and groaned as they pulled on the thick chain.
    “Why don't you come over and give us a hand, Father,” somebody grunted.
    “I'm busy myself, lads. I must clean the chalices for communion, not to mention my own cup here.” With that, he lifted a goblet full of wine. “Here’s to your health, laddies!”
    The Avangarde thought it could get no worse, but they were wrong. The day when the labor ceased, the lessons in manners began. “Manners?” somebody cried. “What the hell is that for?”
    Von Fiescher tsked. “We are not barbarians here in the Avangarde. Some of you, perhaps all, may be cultured, but we are going to make sure.” So commenced the training in bowing, greeting, eating in the presence of women, and dancing. “You will be expected to rub shoulders with the nobility of the world. You will not set a bad example.”
    Patrick found this extremely amusing, if not annoying. Polite behaviors seemed no more than a series of antics. He, like most knights present, was used to eating with his hands at dinner and throwing the bones to the dogs on the floor. On the other hand, it was almost worth it to see the big, masculine lads being taught to hold the cutlery “correctly” at a meal.
    The dancing proved most difficult. Patrick could not dance to save his life. And worse, when it came time to be paired up with a female partner, there was none for him.
    Female staff, maidservants, even nuns were brought in for the occasion but still, Greensprings suffered from a steep shortage of women.
    “Well, gentleman, it seems that I have to sit this one out.” Patrick bowed an adieu and sat down in order to become a relieved spectator.
    “Not so fast, Sir Patrick,” von Fiescher said among the protests of the other Avangardesmen. He was towing Sir Jon behind him. “It seems that Sir Jon is also without a partner.” The knights burst into laughter, and then cheering. There was no arguing the matter, either. Von Fiescher had made up his mind, and the Avangarde would settle for no less. So Sir Patrick and Sir Jon danced.
    At first it was a joke, but as the dances became more intricate and the hours wore on, the jeering knights became too engrossed to notice the paired men. When it was certain that they had learned all the steps, von Fiescher announced that there would be a contest to see who was the best dancer.
    The knights, who had become invested in their newfound skill after so much work, were all for it. “Let us show these ruffians what we have in us, my darling,” Jon said to Patrick, which was met with much laughter. The contest began as several staff members played musical instruments and others judged the contestants. When a couple was obviously out of step with the music, a judge asked them to leave. Some knights made quite a spectacle out of themselves when they were eliminated.
    “We have been robbed! We were doing much better than them!”
    The contest came down to two couples, Sir Geoffrey and his maidservant, and Jon and Patrick. The music became quicker and more complex, and the contestants whirled at a dizzying rate. The sidelined knights and staff were clapping and cheering their favorites.
    And as the music speeded up again, and the cheers swelled, Jon and Patrick cried out almost simultaneously, “What are we doing?” They stepped back from each other and let Geoffrey and his partner continue. “You win,” they shouted, and stepped off the dance floor. Patrick leaned toward Jon and whispered. “I cannot believe we almost