(And I realize this is kind of a cheat of a blog post...;))
The glory of triumph was stirring Alexander's heart as he cut past two guards and faced a third in the very gateway of the castle. His advance was inexorable, the men who came against him could not stand against his fierce onslaught. The great sword gripped in his fist fell in blow after blow against his enemies. Punishing, vanquishing. He penetrated the high guard of the next soldier in front of him, and bowled him over with his shoulder. He was in the courtyard now. The stones beneath him fairly resonated with absorbed heat, but the sweat which covered his brow and soaked his clothing was nothing compared to the victory at hand. With a sideways slash and a powerful backswing, he swept his enemy's sword out of the way, and kicked it from his hand. Raising himself to his full height, he lifted the tip of the blade to his enemy's throat.
"Yield, blackguard." He wiggled his sword impatiently. "Yield, I say!"
"Who are you fighting?" The voice, so close, and yet utterly unexpected, made Alexander start involuntarily. He turned. The girl was sitting on a circular bench beneath a tree, watching him. Her gown was simple and unadorned, but by the very cut and texture of it, Alexander could see that the girl was 'quality.' A large white and grey tomcat, whose fur she was gently stroking, lay curled beside her. Alexander was so taken aback by the intrusion into his battle, that he simply stared at her. She smiled, as if understanding.
"I'm sorry if I startled you," She said. "I often sit here beneath this tree during the afternoon. The people who pass interest me."
There was another moment of silence in which the only sounds audible were Alexander's still-heavy breathing and the low drone of the cat's purring.
"Who were you fighting?" She asked again.
He drew himself up again to answer, "The enemies of the King." He replied with as much grandness and pride as he could muster, flustered as he was by the girl's interruption.
She nodded, smiling still, which irritated Alexander's warrior sensibilities. "You are a very brave knight," she said admiringly. Needless to say, this statement considerably bolstered Alexander, and he smiled now too, though his eyes were now gazing intently at his feet and the point of his sword between them instead of at the girl.
"A 'brave knight'? Fah!"
This interruption was much more offensive, and, if possible, even less expected than the first. Anton, Alexander's one real, flesh-and-blood, opponent, came striding across the square, smirking at Alexander. The girl's head turned slightly, toward the sound of the approaching footsteps, but her eyes did not leave Alexander. "When was the last time you drew your sword in defense of His Majesty and his interests, Anton?" She asked gently, but loud enough for the walking ego to hear as he drew near. He frowned at her, and then at Alexander. "I have more important things to do than play act!" He viciously directed the last words in Alexander's direction.
"Oh." The girl replied simply.
Anton seemed to be taken aback by the nature of the response. Apparently he had expected more, or perhaps less.
"I am a squire to a knight," he proclaimed, "and I'll be one myself, long before this little man ever gets out of the kitchen!"
Alexander was bristling, fairly shuddering with shame and rage, but unsure what to do. Anton must have noticed the spasmodic jerks of his sword hand, for he smiled mockingly and raised his empty hands, palms up, as if to say, "You don't dare try and fight me, little knight - I have no weapon, and what sort of chivalry would that be?"
"Perhaps," the girl's voice snapped, as effortlessly as if it had been a piece of taut string between a pair of shears, through the tension between the two boys. "Perhaps, Anton, but you must admit there was a time not so very long ago, when you were as enthusiastically in the King's service as this brave boy is now. Has your reality taken away your fervor?"
Anton stood silent for a few moments, while the girl waited patiently, letting the cat, who had rolled onto its back during this discourse, play with her hand. After the brief silence, Anton simply stalked away.
As soon as Alexander lost sight of him around the corner, the girl smiled again, and beckoned to him. "Come closer, brave knight."
As he approached her, he guessed that she was probably a year or two younger than himself. Her eyes were large and blue, her golden hair long and braided. When he was in front of her, she indicated the place beside her and, after a moment of hesitation, Alexander seated himself. He was of that age when boys shy away from girls; for what reason, they themselves do not even fully understand. However, Alexander was of an outgoing nature as well, and was not as petrified of the fairer sex as some. The girl smiled, and turned in his direction, but their eyes did not meet.
"What does your sword look like?"
Alexander's mouth actually dropped open, but he willed it closed again. It was hardly polite to leave it hanging wide like a cod's on market day. He eyed the crude wooden implement in his hands, not quite sure how to reply. It was right in front of the girl, so what prompted such a question. She seemed to know what he was thinking and added almost apologetically, "I know the shape of a sword, but great knights often have very unique ones."
A flash of understanding brought a slight scowl to Alexander's. The girl's condescension was not appreciated. He had no delusions about his sword, it was but wood and nails, with uncountable dents and scratches along the length of it. He was not such a child to be imagining a grand sword out of a piece of battered oak.
"It's just wood, miss." He was looking away now, trying to contain his irritation, and also beginning to feel strange under the girl's eyes. "Just for practice."
"I know." The soft smile was again turned toward him, "but do you not have a dream of having your own sword when you are a knight?"
He turned to look her full in the face. Her unblinking smile drove his eyes away from hers. He felt himself start to squirm, his boyish shyness suddenly falling on him full force. "Y-yes, I mean, I suppose I do..." He stammered, wondering how to politely get away.
"What is your name?" Asked the girl.
"Alexander."
"Ah, The Defender." The girl nodded. "Your parents chose well."
"Would they had." Alexander managed to choke out.
The girl's face clouded, and she looked away. "What?"
"My Aunt named me. My parents are...are." He stopped and looked away himself. After a moment he stood, slowly wiping the corner of his eye.
"I'm sorry."
Alexander looked back at the girl and started. She was looking at the place beside her on the bench where he had been sitting, and her hand was slowly moving out, he guessed, in quest of his. He slowly sat back down, staring at her with strange fascination. Her gaze did not waver, though her brow began to furrow. Slowly, he slid out his right hand until the tips of their fingers touched on the bench. The girl took hold of his hand gently. "I'm sorry," she repeated, and at the same time, Alexander raised his left hand and passed it slowly in front of her face. Her eyes did not blink, nor did they follow the path of his hand. He gasped.
"What is it?" She asked quickly, her head turning swiftly.
"Your...your..." Alexander gulped and blurted: "Your eyes!"
"Oh...!" The girl turned away, her hands moving to hide her eyes. Alexander reached out quickly and caught them, however. The girl slowly turned back to him as he gently pulled her hands from her face.
"Your eyes are..." His voice caught in his throat. He hadn't meant to hurt her, and the guilt he would have felt otherwise was increased tenfold by the realization of her disadvantage. She couldn't help it that she was blind. He could not imagine the difficulty she must have endured without her sight. The thousand and one things he saw and took for granted every single day, an which had never made her heart glad. The girl's blue eyes stared at him, the corners glistening slightly with tears. Although he knew she could not see him, her eyes were... "beautiful. Your eyes are beautiful, miss." He finally whispered breathlessly.
...To be continued...
