Page 38 of The Warrior Priest
“He’s not sparring.”
“He’s a trainer. All the best warriors are. They train the younger and less skilled. There’s Rufus and Andreas, too.” The three men guided their students, occasionally correcting their stance or a maneuver. “They’ll join in the drills soon. The much older men you see at the edges are the keepers of the weapons, administrative staff, that sort of thing. Mostly former warriors no longer able to fight. I can’t see Rhys yet.”
“He’s in the gallery with Master Tomaj,” I told her. Like us, Rhys was watching the sparring from a higher level. He stood on the covered walkway on the first floor, his hands resting on the balcony as he peered down. He and Master Tomaj seemed to be talking intently.
After a while, Rufus, Vizah and Andreas shed their shirts and joined in the sparring. They formed groups, each group practicing with a different weapon, and one group used no weapons at all, just fists, feet and bodies. There was no laughter or chatter. The only sounds were grunts, the clash of steel and iron, and the slap of flesh against flesh. If I hadn’t known it was a practice session, I would have thought they intended to kill each other, except that the priest with the upper hand never followed through with the final, winning blow. He’d help his partner up then they’d resume fighting.
“Enjoying yourself?” Giselle asked, winking at me. “Wait until they’ve worked up a sweat.”
It was impossible to deny that the men were an impressive sight with their broad chests and shoulders on display. “You could charge the women of Tilting an entry fee and make a fortune.”
Giselle laughed.
My gaze drifted back up to Rhys on the gallery. Master Tomaj suddenly grasped Rhys’s arm. He seemed in earnest as he said something. Whatever it was, Rhys didn’t like hearing it. He wouldn’t meet the master’s gaze until Tomaj shook Rhys’s arm.
Finally, Rhys lifted his chin in agreement. Master Tomaj embraced him, and Rhys returned it. Despite the height difference, the two men looked like father and son from a distance.
They parted and Rhys walked along the gallery before disappearing inside. Moments later he reappeared in the courtyard. He removed his shirt and collected a sword from one of the weapons keepers. Rhys adjusted his grip, testing the sword’s weight in his hand, before settling into a fighting stance.
It was as if it were an invitation for the others to attack him. The group with swords went first, sometimes singly, other times teaming up to attack from different sides. Rhys dispatched them all with minimal effort. Swords were his preferred weapon, so Giselle told me. When I thought he was cornered by four priests wielding halberds, he still escaped by running at a wall then using it to jump off and flip over his opponents. I’d seen him use walls to his advantage before, but I didn’t know he could flip as well as a gymnast.
I couldn’t tear my gaze away. I’d felt Rhys’s strength before, but seeing his muscles flex beneath smooth skin and the ridges of his stomach tense, was new. The youths who swam in the river looked nothing like him. Their bodies had been nice to look at, but Rhys’s was fascinating. Tempting.
“Don’t forget to breathe, Jac.”
My face flushed, which made Giselle chuckle.
The priests not involved in the fight had stopped to watch, until Master Tomaj clapped his hands. He ordered the remaining priests from the other groups to take up swords then attack Rhys, Andreas, Rufus and Vizah.
It took some time for the four friends to prevail against almost thirty men, but they managed it by working together, using the confined space to their advantage against a larger number of opponents.
Through it all, Giselle and I remained silent. Once they’d finished, and the men were shaking hands as they caught their breath, Giselle sat with her back to the parapet, and stretched out her legs.
“Now you see why watching them spar is one of my favorite things to do when in Tilting,” she said.
“I’ve never seen them fight before,” I said. “Not like that. They’re incredible.”
“That’s why they’re allowed to do as they please, with no repercussions from the master. They can break all the vows they want and he’ll overlook it.”
“Others in the order don’t, so I hear.”
“True. But the master protects them, especially Rhys.”
“Does Rhys need protecting?”
Giselle shrugged. “Not so much anymore, apparently. I hear he’s quite the good priest these days. He’s changed.”
If only I had an ell for everyone who said that.
I continued to watch the men, not yet ready to stop even though they were dispersing now that training had ended. At one point I thought Rhys must know we were there, as he suddenly looked around. But then Andreas distracted him with a slap on the shoulder while Vizah threw a bucket of water at him. Rhys chased him, grabbing a fresh bucket of water, but Vizah had a head start so Rhys dumped the water onto Andreas’s head instead.
Andreas threw his arms up as water streamed down his bare torso. “Why me?”
“You were his co-conspirator,” Rhys said.
Vizah bent over, laughing. Rhys and Andreas exchanged glances, then picked up a bucket each and worked together to corner Vizah and throw the water over him.
The other men laughed, even the master, still standing in the gallery above. Rufus was the only one who shook his head. “Children.”
