Chapter 39: The Practice Field

After dinner, Robb followed Jon down to the armour room instead of fetching his horse.

“Father says we may stay until supper.” He reached for the small breastplate hanging beside Jon’s black jack. “Are you riding?”

“Swords first.”

“Good.”

Jon looked round. Robb had already begun unfastening his belt.

“You can use the spare jack. Ask Tomas for a sword.”

Wylla met them with the bread Jon had left at dinner, folded round cold beef. He ate it on the way to the racks, breaking off a crust for Hugin.

The rain had passed. Along the eaves, water still fell into the gutters, but the practice ground had dried enough for swords. Twenty-five household men waited beside the racks, some in their new dark plate, others wearing the mail they had used through the building of the fort. Arthur paired them while Gawen took the youngest along the rail. Jon wiped his fingers and drew on his gloves.

Tomas bowed before raising his round shield.

The sleeves that had once hung loose now strained across Tomas’s shoulders. His practice sword struck Jon’s shield hard enough to make his elbow ache. Jon gave ground, caught the next blow upon the sloping face, and stepped outside the captain’s sword arm. His own blade reached the ribs.

Tomas drew back at Arthur’s call. They began again. This time he kept his shield nearer and crowded Jon before the younger boy could turn. Jon’s heel slid in a damp patch. He recovered behind his shield, but Tomas’s sword was already against his shoulder.

“Again,” Arthur said. “You are watching his blade, Jon.”

Jon settled his feet. Beyond Tomas he could see Eddard and Rodrik at the rail, with Theon lounging between them. Robb had found a partner beside Gage and was grinning as though getting hit had improved his afternoon.

Arthur came behind Jon and touched his elbow. “You were making room for the sword before there was an opening. Let him come.”

Tomas came willingly. Jon took the first blow through his forearm, waited through the second, then turned his shield against the captain’s wrist and got his short stroke in. Arthur had them repeat the exchange slowly before moving down the pairs. Jon shook the ache from his wrist and waited for Tomas, smiling.

“Four years,” Eddard said, watching Tomas. “He was scarcely more than skin when he first came.”

“He has eaten a good deal since,” Rodrik replied. “And he makes Jon work.”

“He is paid to.” Jon lowered his shield. Sweat had loosened the tie in his hair; the white lock clung to his temple. He pushed it back with a gloved wrist.

At Arthur’s call Jon offered Tomas his hand. The captain took it, still explaining where the turn had caught him. Arthur listened with a small smile.

When the bouts ended, Gawen had the quintain ready beyond the worn track. Jon checked Bucephalus’s girth while Theon chose a lance.

“Those are for the older men,” Gawen told him. “Take the lighter one beside it.”

“I can carry this one.”

“You must aim it as well. Take the lighter one.”

Robb laughed and was given a lighter lance of his own. Jon mounted, settled the butt beneath his arm and brought Bucephalus down the track at a canter. The shield swelled before him. He struck it high, felt the lance kick against his ribs, and passed while the weighted arm swung behind. At the far end he eased the horse down and came back with his arm aching pleasantly.

Gawen pointed to a dark knot near the centre of the wooden shield. Jon brought his next pass lower and struck it. Tomas and Jorren followed with heavier shafts, their dark armour clattering at the turn.

Theon hit the outer edge and sent the quintain spinning. Robb missed altogether, swore, remembered his father, and looked towards the rail.

Eddard’s expression did not change. “Try again.”

Theon had seen the bow hanging beside Jon’s saddle. “Have you been keeping at it?”

“Each morning.”

“Then I shall bring mine next time.” Theon grinned. Jon’s last arrows had grouped more closely, but Theon could still outshoot him with ease.

By the time Robb struck squarely, the foot were leaving their barracks. Gawen took Jon’s lance and kept the household at mounted work, Arthur watching the older pairs pass with shields raised and blunted lances lowered. Jon washed his face and went to Hewyn.

Across the lower field the six flags had risen. Their new purple borders were still bright. White I and II showed above spearhead badges at the front, III and IV beyond them. Upon the black cloth of the sword centuries’ flags, white round-shield badges lay beneath V and VI. Even when the cloth hung still, the short crossbars held the badges open to the eye.

Theon came down from the horses with Robb. “Which one is fifth?”

Robb pointed before Jon could answer. “That one. The V.”

“You have been learning his letters.”

“The men know them,” Robb said. “I thought I ought to.”

Three hundred and sixty men stood beneath the six vexilla. Where the ground rose towards the fence, Jon could see all four spear centuries, sixty men in each, their long shields resting beside their boots. More breastplates had appeared since the proof at the Blackworks. The men waiting for theirs still wore bought mail or quilted jacks and old caps; the equipment differed, but every man carried the weapons he used upon the march. Most of Gerralt’s swordsmen wore their new plate. Brus’s century remained a mixture of iron and leather.

Eddard was following the breadth of the front. “You have made them deeper than they were at the armour yard.”

“Four ranks today. Hewyn, bring Second beside you.”

Rennick brought Second out in a narrow column, then spread it upon First’s right. The nearest decanus set the pace while the farther men hurried into place. Spear shafts rattled as the last rank settled. Rodrik leaned upon the fence.

“Good enough on clear ground. Have them turn towards the ditch.”

Jon looked to Hewyn and gave the direction. The two centuries changed front separately, each following its own vexillum, and dressed beside one another again. First finished sooner. Its optio walked along the rear while Second closed the last space.

“If they turn as one great body, the outside men have too far to go,” Jon said. “I want the officers to move their own sixty.”

“A captain would do the same with his men,” Rodrik said.

“Mine must do it with any of the other five. Norren, bring Third forward.”

Third fitted beside them without rearranging the line. Rodrik glanced towards the three centuries still waiting. “And you can keep those back.”

“Until I need them,” Jon said.

He sent First to the target rail while the others worked the turn. At Hewyn’s command the front rank cast their practice javelins together. Shafts struck the old shields along the rail, some high, some low. Before the last had stopped bouncing, the men had their spears. Jon walked beside them as they advanced, watching the points come level above the long shields.

At the rail they halted. The men in front shortened their grips to work close. Malcolm thrust between the hanging shields; Coll turned his own shield against one and found the gap beneath it.

“They will not always have room for the spear,” Rodrik said.

“No.” Jon called three men clear of the rank. He had Malcolm press a hanging shield against the foremost man’s shaft. The spearman held it for a moment, then let it go and drew the short sword at his belt, keeping his shield between them. “They practise that too. I will not have a man dragged out of line trying to save a piece of ash.”

Robb went nearer the rail. “Could they all throw?”

“Before closing, if I have the time. I will not leave the front bare to get another cast away.” Jon sent the men back for their javelins, then called Martyn over from the sword centuries.

Rodrik’s gaze kept returning to the empty ground before the shields. Jon had heard the same doubt in his questions: who would stand still and let them do this?

“Give him opponents,” Jon told Martyn. “Fifth against First and Second. Press either one when you see your chance. Third supports them.”

Martyn smiled beneath his beard. “Gerralt.”

The swordsmen exchanged their weapons for wood. Practice spears came down from the rack. Eddard moved with the boys to the bank, clear of the ground the centuries would use. Jon remained beside Hewyn until the last sharp head had been carried away.

Fifth began against First’s outer end. Its men came on behind their round shields, forcing Hewyn to turn his end files towards them. Second advanced far enough to threaten their side. Martyn drew Gerralt back, changed his approach and drove between the two spear centuries before they could close.

“Hewyn, hold there,” Jon called. “Rennick, turn upon him.”

Second’s nearest ranks came round. The sword century checked, its front crowded by spear points from two directions. Gerralt kept his men together and worked back out of the narrowing space. Nobody chased him. First’s edge straightened at Malcolm’s call.

The next attack came harder upon First. Shield rims knocked, men grunted and boots churned the wet earth. Jon waited until Martyn had committed Gerralt’s rear files, then sent Third forward against their exposed side.

“First, retire. Behind Norren.”

Hewyn drew his century back as Gerralt turned to meet the fresh spears. The men closest to Fifth gave ground last, their shields still raised. One caught his heel and stumbled; the man beside him held long enough for him to recover. First passed behind Third and formed again beneath its flag. Malcolm stood at the near end, his face red above his collar, calling the last files into place.

“I thought he had them caught,” Theon said from the bank. He had stopped lounging against the fence and was following First as it formed behind the fresh spears.

Jon ended the bout before Martyn could renew it. The men lowered their practice weapons. He walked through the gap First had used, then called Hewyn and Norren to him.

“Norren came forward early enough. You waited too long to bring your last ten away,” he told Hewyn. “They were nearly left there.”

“I saw it, my lord. Malcolm had to fetch them.”

“Let Malcolm give the word from that end.”

On the next withdrawal, First’s last ten moved as Third took the pressure. Jon watched from beside Eddard.

“Let us see Hewyn command them,” Eddard said.

Jon called across the field. “Hewyn, take all six this time. I shall watch from here.”

Hewyn gathered the centurions and gave the two sword centuries their work. As the officers returned to their flags, Robb climbed a root to see the widening front.

“You knew how you wanted this before you called for the men,” Rodrik said quietly. “I remember arguing about how many lads could be kept at the Black Yard.”

Jon watched Rymond place Fourth behind the threatened wing. “I have had time to improve it.”

“Where did you begin?”

“With what I had read. And what you and Arthur taught me.”

Rodrik looked at him. “You have not told me much.”

“No,” Jon said. “But I do want your judgement of the drill.”

Rodrik turned towards the field. “He has both sword centuries now. I want to see where he puts them.”

The horn sounded. Across the field, the black shields moved. Jon leaned upon the rail beside his father, following Hewyn’s choice of ground.

Eddard stayed through two more exercises. When they ended he went down to speak to the officers himself, asking how the younger men had borne the longer marches and which centuries still lacked armour. Theon fetched the horses while Robb remained beside Jon.

“Would you show me where you would put the household?” he asked. “Against those spears.”

Jon pointed towards the rise beyond the ditch. Robb studied it, then shook his head and named another approach. They were still arguing about which ground a horse could cross when Eddard called them in for supper. Arthur was already waiting at the tower door, carrying Jon’s forgotten cloak.

* * *

At the next change of moon, Heward gave each of the six pages a different centurion to serve. Timm was to leave Rennick’s Second Spear Century for Norren’s Third Spear Century, but after breakfast he went back to Rennick’s barrack.

Heward stopped him at the door. “You are with the Third Spears this moon.”

“Master Rennick said I was useful.”

“You were. Now you are to help Norren.”

Timm glanced past him into the barrack. “I know where Master Rennick keeps everything.”

“Then show the boy taking your place.” Heward waited until Timm looked at him again. “You must learn the other centuries too. When you carry an order, you need to know which man is to receive it and where to find him. Norren will show you his work as Rennick showed you his.”

“Do I come back here after?”

“When you have served the others.”

Timm considered that, then went inside to show his replacement where Rennick’s things belonged. The campidoctor waited for him to finish before sending him across to the Third Spears’ barrack.

Aries remained Jon’s own page, but joined the six for their reading and figures. Whatever work the centurions found for their boys, that hour belonged to their lessons. When one arrived saying he had been told to finish oiling a belt, Cadan put him on the bench with the others and went to speak to the officer himself. The boy finished the belt after his letters.

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Geth could now read a short order without stopping to sound every word aloud. Nibs still lost his place when a line ran long, so twice a sennight Jon sat with him and Aries for extra practice. He wrote short notes about errands they had already done, giving them familiar names and places to read.

Nibs copied carefully, but a neat copy did not always mean he understood it.

“Read that back to me,” Jon said, turning the boy’s own work towards him.

Nibs followed the line with his finger. At the end, Jon asked whom he was meant to find and what he was meant to take. When the boy had to look again, Jon let him. Neither page carried a written message away until he could read it back correctly and explain the errand.

Their weapons lessons continued as well. Gawen worked on their balance and taught them the beginnings of riding. Heward drilled their steps and turns, while Fifth and Sixth, the two sword-and-shield centuries, took turns supplying a man for the short afternoon bouts.

One afternoon Jon found Colin of Fifth Century teaching them under Gerralt’s eye. Colin was showing Nibs a feint, but the boy had brought the wrong foot forward while watching the sword. When he tried to copy the movement, his feet tangled.

Gerralt tapped the earth beside his shoe. “Show him how to stand first.”

Colin lowered his practice blade. He stepped beside Nibs and set his own feet where the boy could see them.

“This one forward. A little less. There.”

He had Nibs step towards him and back again, slowly enough to keep his balance. Only then did he ask him to lift the sword.

Aries watched from the rail with Jon’s cloak over his arm. When Jon called, he shook the dust from the hem and brought it over. Behind him, Nibs looked down at his feet.

Colin waited while he put them right, then raised his wooden blade for another try.

* * *

Two evenings later, Jon and Arthur were crossing the yard on their way to supper.

“Brus wants more time against the household,” Arthur said. “His Sixth Sword-and-Shield Century managed better today, but the younger men still follow an opponent when they should hold their place.”

“Does he stop them?”

“He stopped the bout twice and made them repeat the turn.”

“Then give him another afternoon. Gawen can spare a file.”

Shouting came from the stables, followed by several hollow thumps and Patch’s excited barking.

“Hold it, Geth! Hold it!”

“I am holding it!”

Something fell with a clatter. The boys burst out laughing.

Jon turned towards the open doors. “What are they doing?”

Arthur followed him beneath the eaves.

Baskets blocked most of the stable passage. The larger ones had been overturned and pushed together, with straw packed between them and a narrow gap left for a gate. Geth knelt in that opening, bracing a round shield while Timm tried to squeeze past its edge.

“Back!” Nibs shouted from behind him. “You’re not through yet!”

His iron cap slipped over his eyes. He shoved it up with the heel of his hand, exposing a flushed little face beneath the broad rim. The quilted jack he had taken reached almost to his ankles; its sleeves had been rolled into thick bundles, one already coming loose over his sword hand.

Aries stood outside the baskets with Tob beside him and Patch bouncing at his heels.

“Timm, come back! We’re meant to go together!”

He stepped forward to fetch him, caught his boot against the long scabbard hanging from his belt, and had to grab Tob’s shoulder to keep from falling.

“You’re pulling it off!” Tob protested.

The collar of his borrowed jack had slipped over one shoulder. He caught it beneath his chin while Aries freed his boot, then tried to hitch it back into place without dropping his wooden sword. The padded gloves he wore made this almost impossible; their empty fingertips folded whenever he tried to grasp the leather.

Aries let go of him and dragged the scabbard round to his other hip.

“Then stand still.”

“I was standing still.”

Inside the gate, Timm had become wedged between Geth’s shield and a basket. His breastplate was strapped over a thick quilted coat, but even with the buckles drawn tight, the steel stood well away from his chest. Its lower edge caught against his thighs when he bent. He tried to straighten and pushed the basket backwards instead.

Nibs struck his shoulder with the flat of his wooden sword.

“You’re dead.”

“I’m stuck.”

“You can be both.”

Geth began laughing. He had to put the shield down to help Timm out, exposing Wrenn behind him in a faded leather jack whose armholes gaped around his narrow shoulders. Wrenn immediately crouched to cover the opening, stepped upon the hem of Nibs’s coat and brought his little commander down onto a basket.

“Get off me!”

“I’m not on you.”

“My coat!”

From behind the far tower, Hake laughed so hard that he had to hold his helm in place. Someone had packed its lining with straw. A few stalks protruded above one ear; the rest fell into his eyes whenever he shook.

Arthur leaned a hand against the doorpost. Jon glanced up at him and found the knight pressing his lips together.

Aries had managed to free his scabbard. He stood with his boots apart, the stiff shoulders of his leather jack jutting well beyond his own. The coat had once fitted one of the younger household men. Upon Aries, its skirt nearly reached his knees, and the doubled belt gathered the loose leather into great folds around his waist.

Timm backed away from the gate.

“They have four. We only have three.”

“We have Patch.”

The dog sprang against Aries’s leg at the sound of his name. His forepaws struck the hanging leather, and his tail swept straw against Tob’s shins.

“He won’t do what you tell him,” Tob said.

“He follows me.”

“He follows everyone.”

“Yield!” Aries shouted towards the baskets. “Lord Aries gives you one more chance!”

Nibs had regained his feet. He planted his wooden sword upon the wicker, with both hands upon its pommel.

“No.”

“We’ll knock your wall down.”

“You’ll have to put it back up.”

Aries reached for the sword at his hip. The scabbard rose with the hilt until he clamped it between his knees and pulled harder.

Steel scraped free.

Jon straightened.

“Aries.”

The boy turned, delighted at first.

“My lord! Look, we’ve—”

“Put that sword down.”

Aries’s smile faltered. He lowered the blade, but its weight carried the point farther than he intended, brushing Tob’s padded sleeve before striking the floor.

“Carefully.”

Arthur stepped past Jon and closed his hand over the blade near the hilt. He took it without resistance.

“All the weapons,” he said. “On the bench.”

The boys began obeying in an untidy clatter. Timm tried to bend for a fallen wooden sword and had to spread his knees to make room for the breastplate. Geth unstrapped his shield. Without the excitement of holding the gate, he could scarcely keep its weight upon his arm.

Nibs remained behind the baskets until Arthur beckoned him through.

Jon took the steel sword from his uncle. It was a broad, blunted practice blade, heavy enough that Aries had needed both hands merely to draw it.

“Who gave you this?”

Aries swallowed. “No one.”

“Where did you find it?”

“In the practice shed.”

“You know which swords you are allowed.”

“It’s blunt, my lord.”

Jon looked from the blade to Tob, who was rubbing the place it had brushed.

“You nearly struck him while turning to speak to me. A blunt sword can still break his arm.”

Aries’s eyes followed his. Tob stopped rubbing.

Jon laid the weapon upon the bench, well beyond their reach. Beside it stood an empty helm with a broken chin strap, two wooden swords and the gloves Tob had finally managed to pull off.

“Did anyone give you leave to take the armour?”

No one answered.

Aries removed his cap. His red hair clung damply to his forehead, flattened beneath the worn lining. One ear was folded over; he rubbed it absently, watching Jon.

At the far entrance, a horse snorted.

Ralf stood outside with a groom and two geldings. The nearer horse stretched its neck towards the loose straw, but the groom held it back from the baskets.

“I sent the boys for bedding, my lord.”

Jon looked along the stalls. Three stood empty, their floors swept but bare.

“How long ago?”

“Long enough to have those done. I told them where to spread it.”

“We brought it,” Aries said.

Ralf’s gaze moved over the castle.

“Aye. I can see where you put it.”

Aries’s cheeks reddened. Behind him, Geth shifted his weight.

“I told him we had to finish first.”

The red head turned sharply.

“Aries,” Jon said.

The boy faced him again.

“What did you tell Geth?”

“That we could finish after.”

“Did Ralf say the work could wait?”

“He was out with the horses.”

“Did he?”

“No, my lord.”

Jon waited until Aries looked at him.

“Then why did you tell the others to leave it?”

Aries held the cap against his stomach. His fingers tightened beneath its rim.

“I’m your page.”

There was still some certainty in the answer. He glanced towards the six boys gathered beside the bench.

“They serve the centurions. I serve you. I thought that meant they had to do what I said.”

The corners of Jon’s mouth flattened.

“No.”

Aries looked back at him.

“I have not put you in command of these boys.”

“But when you send me—”

“When I send you with an order, they obey the order. You do not gain the right to make up another one.”

Aries drew his shoulders in. The broad leather seams scarcely moved with them.

“Ralf has charge of these stables,” Jon continued. “He gave them work to do. You had no leave to take them from it.”

“I only wanted—”

“I know what you wanted. Geth reminded you of their work, and you told him he must obey you instead.”

The boy’s lips parted, but nothing came out.

Jon’s voice had grown quieter. His eyes remained fixed upon Aries, cold enough that the boy stopped trying to meet them. He looked at the cap, then at the floor. The flush had spread down his neck.

Behind him, Hake held his helm by its loose straps. It knocked against his shin once before he caught it against his leg. Wrenn had begun picking straw from the front of his jack, dropping each piece beside his boot. Nibs stood close to Geth, one small hand gripping the older boy’s sleeve.

“Did you tell them I would allow it?” Jon asked.

Aries nodded.

“Speak.”

“Aye, my lord.”

“You had not asked me.”

“I thought you would.”

“Next time, ask. You are not to give anyone leave in my name unless I have told you to do so.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Jon turned to the others.

“When a message is unclear, ask. Serving me does not forbid Aries from being questioned.”

Geth nodded first. The younger boys followed.

“Take off the armour and leave it upon the bench. Finish the stalls Ralf gave you. When he is satisfied, you may wash and go to supper.”

Timm glanced at the equipment already piled there.

“Do we put these back first?”

“No. Aries will see to them.”

Aries raised his head.

“You will stay after the others have gone,” Jon told him. “Ralf will show you the empty end stall. Clean it, then sweep this passage. Everything taken from the shed is to be cleaned and returned. Ser Gawen will count it.”

The boy looked along the passage towards the feed room.

“All of it?”

“All of it. There will be no games for you tonight.”

Aries glanced at Geth, then Nibs. Neither looked back.

“Only me?”

“Only you.”

His mouth tightened. For a moment Jon thought he would argue. Instead he lowered the cap onto the bench, so carefully that it made no sound.

Arthur began helping the boys out of their borrowed armour. Timm could not reach the breastplate’s side buckles beneath the folds of his coat. When the knight freed the last strap, the boy let out a long breath and rubbed both thighs.

Nibs had pulled his jack halfway over his head and become trapped inside it.

“Stop pulling,” Arthur told him.

“I can’t see.”

“I know. Lower your arms.”

Geth held the hem while Arthur worked the heavy quilting free. Nibs emerged red-faced, his hair standing up, and immediately looked towards Jon as though being caught in his coat might count as another offence.

Jon pointed him towards Ralf.

“The bedding.”

The boy hurried away.

Aries was still struggling with his belt. He had knotted the spare length behind the buckle, and each tug made it tighter. The empty scabbard knocked against the bench. He caught it, tried again and bit his lip.

Arthur held out his hand.

“I can do it.”

“Let me see the knot.”

Aries hesitated before turning. Arthur loosened the leather and drew it free. Without the belt, the old jack hung open over the boy’s fitted black coat. Its collar had rubbed a red patch beneath his chin.

Jon waited until it was off.

“Tell Ralf why his work was left.”

Aries faced the groom.

“I called them away.” He swallowed. “I told them they could leave it because I was Lord Jon’s page.”

Ralf listened, one hand resting upon the nearest stall door.

“And whose idea was taking the gear?”

“Mine.”

“Then begin with those baskets. I need room to bring the horses through.”

Aries bent to the largest. Patch came nosing beneath his arm, tail moving hopefully.

“Not now,” he whispered.

He dragged the basket aside with the dog following at his heel.

Jon remained until the passage was open and the six other pages were carrying bedding into the stalls. Then he went out with Arthur. Aries kept his back towards them as their footsteps crossed the threshold.

* * *

By dusk, the horses were feeding quietly behind their half-doors. The last light lay in narrow strips beneath the high windows, catching dust whenever Aries shook his cloth.

He sat on a low stool beside the stable bench, with Geth’s shield propped between his knees. Ralf had inspected the passage and the empty stall, but found straw lodged behind the shield’s grip. Aries had spent several minutes trying to work it free with the corner of a rag.

Most of the gear had already gone back to the shed. One cap stood beside his rinse bucket, its lining turned out to dry. An old apron covered his coat; Ralf had knotted its neck loop short enough for him, but the hem still lay across his shoes.

Patch slept beneath the bench.

Wylla came in carrying a bowl beneath a folded cloth.

“Aries.”

He pulled the rag through the grip again.

“I’ve nearly finished.”

She set his supper down and came beside him. His hair was full of dust, and a dark smear ran from one cheek towards his ear. The skin beneath his chin was raw where the borrowed collar had chafed.

“Let me look at you.”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“I have not asked what hurts.”

She tipped his face towards the window. His eyes were red. He tried to blink before she could see how wet they were.

Wylla’s expression softened.

“Oh, love.”

“I’m not crying.”

She drew him against her waist. For a moment he held himself stiffly, the rag still stretched between his hands. Then his forehead pressed into her gown.

“He was angry.”

“Aye.”

“I’ve never seen him look at me like that.”

Wylla put one hand upon the back of his head and stroked the tangled red hair.

“You frightened him with that sword. Ralf told me.”

“I wasn’t going to hit anyone hard.”

“You could not know how hard it would land.”

Aries said nothing. She felt him swallow against her.

“And you should not have taken the boys from their work.”

“I know.”

She let him lean against her a little longer, then crouched beside the stool.

“Show me what is left.”

He pointed behind the shield’s grip. She held it steady while he worked the rag through from the other side. A last twist brought the straw free.

Ralf came to inspect it. He ran a finger beneath the strap, looked at the cap beside the bucket and nodded.

“Take those back. Ser Gawen is still in the shed. You are finished here.”

Aries rose with the shield held against his chest. Wylla took the cap as far as the doorway, then settled its strap over his wrist so he could manage both.

When he returned, she had uncovered his broth and broken the bread. He sat beside her on the bench without being told.

“Hands,” she said.

He showed her.

She wiped the dirt from his knuckles with a damp cloth, then gave him the spoon. He took two mouthfuls while she untied the apron and drew it over his head.

“I thought he would like it,” he said at last.

“The castle?”

He nodded.

“We made the gate narrow. So they couldn’t all come through together.”

Wylla smoothed his collar away from the rubbed place.

“Then you should have found somewhere you were allowed to build it.”

“Ralf would have said to finish first.”

“There was your answer.”

Aries bent over the bowl.

For a while she let him eat. The broth held barley and onion, with a piece of mutton she had cut small enough for his spoon. He left the meat until she nudged his hand towards it.

“Your lord had plenty of people telling him to finish his work before he began something else,” she said.

Aries looked at her.

“He still does. Usually me.”

That almost drew a smile.

“He did not get those first boys merely by asking. Lord Stark wanted to know who would feed them, where they would sleep and who would teach them. Jon had to give him proper answers.”

“He always knows the answers.”

“Does he?” Wylla lifted an eyebrow. “I remember him sitting over an account with Master Poole because he had forgotten how quickly boys wear through their boots.”

Aries glanced at his own.

“He learned. And he listened when someone knew more than he did.” She put her arm about his shoulders. “You see him in the yard giving orders. You see less of the work that keeps those men fed and clothed.”

“I was going to help Ralf afterwards.”

“I believe you. But Ralf had horses waiting, and Geth had already told you that. Being eager does not make you right.”

He scraped a little broth from the side of the bowl.

“Will he still want me with him tomorrow?”

Wylla turned him gently towards her.

“He has spent too many evenings teaching you to decide you are no use after one foolish afternoon.”

His mouth trembled. She kissed his brow.

“He expects much of you, love. I have seen him put aside a letter because you wanted something explained. He wants you to understand his work. As you grow, there will be more he can trust you with, and—”

“Aries. Come here.”

Jon stood inside the doorway.

The boy rose abruptly. His spoon struck the bowl, and Wylla steadied it while he wiped his palms against his coat. He crossed the passage with his head down.

Two paces from Jon, he stopped.

His hands folded together, separated, then folded again. He began rubbing one thumbnail over the other.

“Have you completed the work I set you?” Jon asked.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Ralf has inspected it?”

“Aye. The passage and the stall.” Aries swallowed. “Ser Gawen counted everything. I took the shield back last.”

“Good.”

The boy’s fingers went on moving.

“Do you know why I punished only you?”

Aries glanced up.

“Because I began it.”

“The others wanted to play too.”

He looked down again. Behind Jon, the evening yard had grown quiet. A man crossed the gravel carrying a lantern, its light passing briefly over the door.

“Because I told them they had to listen.”

“Yes.”

Jon waited until the boy’s eyes returned to him.

“They thought you had the right to let them leave their work. When Geth questioned you, you used your place beside me to silence him.”

“I thought I could.”

“I know. But you chose for all of them. I would not punish them for trusting an authority you claimed to have.”

Aries pressed his lips together.

“You wanted them to follow your decision. When it proved wrong, you had to answer for it.”

The boy nodded. His chin shook with the movement.

“I’m sorry, my lord.”

Jon looked at the small, bent shoulders and the hands working restlessly beneath them. The defiance was gone. Aries had done the work without attempting to hide any of it, and now he seemed scarcely able to stand still beneath his lord’s attention.

Jon put a hand upon his shoulder.

“Leave your fingers alone.”

Aries let them fall.

“Look at me.”

He raised his head slowly. His eyes were wet and red-rimmed, the lashes clinging together at the corners. He blinked hard. A tear slipped down the cheek Wylla had just cleaned.

Jon’s voice gentled.

“I expect a great deal of you, Aries.”

“I’ll do better.”

“I believe you will.”

The boy drew an uneven breath.

“I am hard on you because I see the makings of a great man in you. You learn quickly. You have courage. And those boys trusted you long before you wore my coat.”

Aries held his gaze now.

“I remember the night they came here. You slept beside them and left your new coat over Nibs.”

“He was cold.”

“Aye. You saw that without anyone telling you. I want you to show the same care when they look to you for a decision.”

Jon’s hand remained steady upon his shoulder.

“One day I mean to give you work I cannot stand beside you to watch. I want to know you will hear advice, judge carefully and tell me when something is beyond you.”

“I will, my lord.”

“You have years to learn. I intend to teach you as much as I can, and I expect you to make good use of it. Begin with your friends. Help them do their work properly. Let Geth speak when he thinks you are wrong.”

Aries nodded.

Jon gave his shoulder a small squeeze.

“I know you can become a man I am proud to have beside me. Can you do that for me?”

Aries sniffled and rubbed his fist across his eyes. When he lowered it, he looked straight at Jon.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good. Finish your supper, then go to bed.”

Jon released him. He exchanged a glance with Wylla and walked out into the yard.

Aries stood where he had left him until the footsteps faded.

Then Wylla came to him.

She gathered him against her before he could try to hide his face again, one arm around his shoulders and her other hand cupping the back of his head. His fingers caught in her gown. She bent to kiss his hair, holding him close while he pressed his wet cheek into the familiar wool.