The Year 54 After the Founding

Lily plopped the twins into Johann's lap then spun back to the stove to continue the process of manufacturing their breakfasts. The girls were at that dangerous age, where they were able to crawl, but not yet aware enough of their surroundings that they realized how hot things could get and what a fire could do to them.

Johann paused his usual morning routine and gazed at Lily as she skillfully navigated herself around the kitchen. It had been almost five years since their marriage and she had blossomed into quite the wonderful woman. She had also become more and more beautiful, though he admitted, at least to himself, that he might be a tad biased on that point.

One thing that wasn't bias though was the knowledge that her skill as an herbalist now surpassed that of her mother. While acknowledging that without her mother to teach her she would have been nothing but a bumbling amateur, it was eminently fair to say that she'd taken what her mother had given her and expanded the possibilities of what could be done approximately fourfold.

It was Lily who had, by laborious experimentation, discovered how combinations of multiple herbs could be beneficial, especially with difficult problems. Previously herbalists had rarely used combinations, and then no more than two at a time. Johann was still irritated, to put it mildly, that even now some of the travelling male herbalists passing through refused to be taught by a woman, especially after being confronted by townspeople who were much healthier than those they would have seen anywhere else.

The antics of the twins, Rosalie and Bernadette, distracted him from his brooding by trying to stand on his legs and pull at his hair. He had no idea why it so fascinated them, but, though it was at times on the painful side, it kept them distracted and away from the cooking, which, if his nose was working, was about finished.

One thing that most people didn't understand was that a good herbalist was almost always an excellent cook. There was something about their sensitivity to plants and their properties that resulted in them knowing exactly what herbs and spices would best season any given dish. As a matter of fact, the Duke's chief cook frequently came to Lily or her mother for advice in both seasoning and in treating the sick and wounded. The latter was a sad fact resulting from them living at the very edge of civilization in the north of Italy. Their location, and the steadily increasing size of the community, meant an excess of banditry and fairly frequent incursions by said bandits.

Johann supposed that there were some plusses. Because of the frequency of attacks, the Duke's forces were extremely well trained and experienced in combat, something that bandits rarely, if ever, were. Also, due to the care of the local healers, and the restorative properties of the waters of the hot spring in the center of town, even wounds that might otherwise have crippled those injured often healed completely given enough time.

Like most armies, if you can call 40 soldiers an army, Duke Aphonse's force was smaller than he'd have liked, but there was no way to pay for any more troops even though the town now had nearly 2,000 people in it. Ordinarily even 40 would have been too expensive, but at any given time half served as a police force, and those off duty were regularly called on to help during planting and at harvest.

The latter had been a godsend as, over the past decades, more than one group of would-be bandits were thwarted when some of the apparently feckless farmers they tried to attack pulled bows and swords out of their stacked belongings and vigorously counterattacked. After that, when the first few defenders were followed by the others who were wielding highly effective quarterstaves, well, no such group tried attacking twice -- assuming that any of them survived the encounter.

Interlude

Ptica again stopped the playback. "Much as I hate to do so, what with lunch coming soon, I guess I'd better explain what a quarterstaff is and why they were being used instead of other weapons. From day one of his arrival, when he had rescued the village from attacking bandits, Duke Alphonse had an almost paranoid attitude toward defending his people. Then, as now, there wasn't money for many professional soldiers, but training a militia cost nothing except for time.

"Now bows and swords, if they were any good, cost a lot, but a staff could be made from the wood of any tree at hand, and they had a lot of yew trees in the foothills to the north. In addition to the yew trees, there was an abundance of oaks. The duke had forbidden what modern people would call clearcutting and had also insisted that for each tree harvested two others must be planted. At first many townspeople grumbled, but, since they loved their duke and his earnestness, they reluctantly went along with him.

"As more and more travellers came and went from the town, the townsfolk learned of the barren hills surrounding many older and larger cities and came to appreciate their Duke's point of view. Eventually they even built a church dedicated to whichever spirit or saint had prompted his miraculous foresight.

"Aside from that, the Duke mandated that all boys, beginning at age 12, and any woman or girl who was interested, be trained in the proper use of a staff. There were a number of benefits. A good staff user had a reach substantially longer than someone using a standard short sword. Also, should they miss with their first swing, the staff had another end that could rapidly be swung around for another try. Finally someone using a staff was highly mobile as they weren't weighed down by armor. Many a fight was ended when the one using a staff stepped to the side of his or her opponent and swept his legs out from under him.

"Within only a few years another use for staves was discovered, and that discovery resulted in almost all the woman in town learning to use one. Sometimes a thief or someone who was exceedingly stupid and randy would try to ambush a woman walking alone at night. Successful attacks dropped to nearly zero once women made a point of being trained and thereafter carried a staff when they had to go out at odd hours for one reason or another.

"Word got around fairly quickly about all the broken bones the "defenseless" women inflicted, and the use of staves spread throughout the countryside. Eventually it became customary to begin training both boys and girls with appropriately sized staves around the age of eight.

"That should be a sufficient explanation."

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The Year 56 After the Founding

It had been discovered by the time he was 13 that Johann had an exceptional aptitude for staff work, perhaps because he had been around wood since his birth. At least that's what everyone believed. Whether or not it made any sense is another thing. By the time he was 18 he was a squad leader and now, at 23, he was an acknowledged Master and was being groomed to take over the position of Senior Staff Master when the current master retired. As it was, he'd been supervising the training of the best of the militia and no few of the professional soldiers for two years.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

No, don't be surprised. Any soldier worth his salt will study the use of any and all weapons he might be called upon to face one day. Those who didn't tended to die young. And that brings us to what happened that day.

One of the Duke's grandsons, Albert by name, had a wee problem. He'd come to believe his "friend's" statements that the nobility were superior beings and should be treated as such by the "peasants." On a lovely morning in June, it being Albert's 16th birthday, Albert had been out riding with said friends, enjoying the fine mare he had been given by his parents. On the way back to town he passed by the fallow field where the milita were training. This particular squad was composed of the youngest novices who were still very awkward and unsure.

Being rather full of himself in general, and especially so that morning, Albert began making rather loud, shall we say, "unpleasant" remarks about the trainees. Unbeknownst to him, Johann was in charge of training that morning. To his credit, for some time he did nothing to respond to Albert's steadily more pointed goading, other than restraining the few hotheads in the new squad who wanted to take exception to Albert's remarks.

Finally even Johann's temper was perturbed. He turned to Albert and said, "Boy. Your grandsire, the Duke requires this training and for good reason. It is because of the militia aiding His Grace's soldiers that we live such peaceful lives compared to so many other citizens of the realm. I suggest that you moderate your words."

In retrospect, Johann might have been a bit more careful. Calling a walking bag of testosterone with an overly high opinion of himself "boy" was probably a mistake.

Albert flew into a fury. He dismounted from his horse, pulled out his sword and attacked Johann with great vigor and absolutely no skill, his anger having completely driven his minimal training from his mind.

Johann only parried his blows, hoping that Albert would either calm down when he saw that he was having no effect, or would exhaust himself and be forced to cease. Unfortunately Albert had had an excellent breakfast and was full of energy.

Once it was clear that he wasn't going to stop, Johann raised a questioning eyebrow at Duke Alphonse, who had been sitting under a nearby tree while observing the training. The duke shrugged his shoulders and with a sad, rueful expression nodded.

Johan nodded back and then, the next time Albert swung wildly and missed, carefully broke Albert's right forearm, causing him to drop his sword, thus ending the fight. As Albert knelt in the dirt, staring at his arm in shock, Johann picked up the sword and handed it to one of Albert's companions. "Take him home and see that he's treated."

Two of them got Albert back on his horse, then the group of them rode back into town, followed quietly at a distance by the Duke and his attendant, Armsmaster Delilah Stockholder who asked, "If you please Your Grace, may I deal with this matter as I see fit?"

The Duke pondered for a short time then stroked his short beard and replied, "Yes.... That would probably be the best way. See to it."

"By your leave Your Grace." So saying she encouraged her mount into a trot and hurried after the sprouts ahead of her. By the time she arrived, Albert's friends were hurrying him off to the treatment room. The medic would be elsewhere at that time of day, so two of his friends left to search for him.

Delilah had followed Albert and stood outside the door in a location where she couldn't be seen. By then Albert was swearing up a storm, vowing to "teach that miserable peasant some manners. The next time I see him he won't be so lucky."

As he drew a deep breath so as to continue his rant, Delilah quickly stepped into the room, picked him up by his shirtfront, and held him up against the wall, with his feet dangling six inches off the floor. "You miserable, misbegotten, moronic excuse for a human being. Do you have any idea at all who you're talking about?"

Albert was totally shocked at being so treated, but one doesn't EVER argue with the Armsmaster so he answered as civilly as he was able at the moment, "Indeed yes Armsmaster, I'm talking about a peasant who attacked me with his staff."

"Oh. Really. And do you know the name of that peasant?"

Albert shook his head "no" but his friend offered up, "I believe it was Johann, Armsmaster."

Delilah began shaking Albert, banging his shoulders against the wall with each shake. "Johann was it Albert?"

"Now that you mention it Armsmaster, I do believe that was what I heard one of the other peasants call him, not that it matters. One like him is not worth remembering."

Delilah stopped shaking Albert, and held him against the wall. She moved her face to within two inches of Albert's. "Of no mention is it? Then I take it that I also am of no worth? Is that what you think brat?"

Albert had no idea at all what had the Armsmaster so angry, but he realized that he was in a great deal of trouble. He shook his head no, with great energy, over and over while saying, "NO! Not at all Armsmaster. I'd never say such a thing!"

"Oh really.... Then answer me this, If you insult your master's master, are you not also insulting your master?"

Albert puzzled his way through that and nodded. "Well, yes, I suppose that you could say that. But I don't understand...."

Delilah began shaking him again. "Of course you don't understand. That's because what little brain you had probably dribbled out of you when you reached puberty! Fortunately, I'm in a good mood today, so I'm going to explain the situation to you, and don't worry, I'll use tiny words.

"MASTER Johann will be the next Senior Staff Master for this town. MASTER Johann is the master who taught ME the fine points of using a staff. YOU have insulted MY master, and you used most vile language in doing so. I'd be well within my rights to challenge you to a duel."

Her next question was asked in a toneless, flat voice, "Do you think that you'd survive such a duel brat?"

Albert's body went totally limp. If Delilah hadn't been holding him up, he'd have collapsed on the floor. Tears sprang from his eyes and began to pour down his face, and he whispered, "No Master Stockholder."

She turned, still holding him in the air, casually walked to the nearest bunk, and dropped him on it. While turning she saw that the Duke and Abigail were standing immediately outside the room.

"Once your arm is healed, you will walk out to where the militia trains. You will apologize to the trainees and then you will get ON YOU KNEES, and humbly beg Master Johann for forgiveness and will likewise ask him to train you in staff work.

She nodded toward the doorway. "Any other punishment will be up to His Grace and your mother."

Albert's eyes widened and he sprang to his feet, assuming a position of rigid attention, totally ignoring the pain in his arm.

The Duke stood in the doorway, unmoving, and unblinking.

Abigail approached him and looked him up and down, from the top of his head to his toes. Then she bunched up a fist and drove it into his stomach, forcing him to his knees with the breath knocked out of him.

Thereafter she acted as if he were not there. She turned to Delilah and spoke in a voice that made plain her icy fury, "Armsmaster Stockholder, if you would be so kind as to do me a favor? The next time you see my son Albert, please inform him that he has been assigned to be under your care for the next five months. You are to do with him as you please, whatever you feel is necessary to turn him into a human being instead of a spoiled brat with delusions of superiority.

"Should you feel that a longer period of time will be needed, please so inform me. We will not have ANYONE, of either sex, behaving in such a disrespectful manner toward those we have sworn to protect."

Delilah bowed. "By your command."

Abigail turned and followed her father out of the room and, for a time, entirely out of Albert's life.

The medic bustled in at that point, followed by Albert's friends. All three of his friends, seeing the Armsmaster glare at them and pointedly look at the doorway, almost fell over each other as they rushed out of the room.

Before the sun had risen to its zenith, the story had circulated throughout the Ducal Residence and, by that evening, the entire town. Every one of those who were the children of nobles, or who had pretensions of superiority were thinking the same thing: "If the Duke will do something like that to his own grandson, what will he do to us if we get caught acting like Albert did?"