His wounds had healed well in the last few months; tender patches of skin, pink and raw, remained, but he could walk again without fighting the ache in his ribs or favoring his good leg. His hands were pruned from hours of being wet. His duties for the past few months, as he recovered, had been monotonous —the chores no one wanted to do—namely, cleaning, constant, unending cleaning. Edwin hated every moment of it; he would gladly place himself back in the carriage ride of pain to be away from it.
Arthur held no such reservations; he scrubbed away at the stone floors of the hall. The duke had assigned him responsibility over Edwin. Together they went about everything, eating, chores, training, they even shared the same small room in the Northwest tower of the keep proper.
Sponges gripped tightly in their hands worked over the dirt and debris tracked in by the comings and goings of the castle's occupants.
Edwin watched in disdain as a men-at-arms walked through the still-wet floor, tracking mud down the just-cleaned hallway. "He did that on purpose." Edwin didn't hide the disdain in his voice.
Ever patient and calm, Arthur shrugged, dipped his sponge in the shared bucket of murky water, and continued at a particularly stubborn splotch.
Edwin couldn't help but admire his patience. "Why is it that we particularly get stuck with all this cleaning? Clean this, clean that, polish the armor, remove the cobwebs from the roofs, wash the walkways, clean the walkways, sweep the dirt from the courtyard that just so happens to be a DIRT courtyard."
Arthur set down his sponge as Edwin ranted, "You've been here for all of four months," he stated, "You will be here for many years, even when you're a squire. What do you expect to be doing? Cleaning, that is what you'll be doing. It may not be what you want to be doing, but it's what you will be doing." he put his hand reassuringly on Edwin's shoulder, "I highly suggest you get used to it, my friend."
"You're right, the only problem is that there are so many squires here, yet we are the only ones who seem to be cleaning this much." Edwin had suspicions about why that was. Since his arrival at the expansive keep, it had been made abundantly clear who held the day-to-day power. Lady Talbot, the duke's wife, was out to get Edwin, or at least that is what he had gathered from his months here. Technically, the only person who held authority over Edwin was the duke himself as his liege lord. But Technicalities mean little in reality, especially when it came to a mother angered over her son.
"Edwin," Arthur said seriously, "Stop spending your time complaining about what it is you are made to do and spend more time figuring out what it is you can learn."
Surprised at the wisdom of his words, Edwin found himself questioning how it was he had been spending his time. "Stuart, Arthur sounds exactly like that priest". Edwin never knew how much he would miss Sonder, despite his daydreaming and wish for glory in far-off lands. Edwin couldn't deny that he longed to sword fight with his father, be scolded by his mother, or listen to hours-long lessons from Stuart.
Horses lined the stables from end to end, some were small, stubby things, Palfreys for squires or the lesser who call Talbot keep home. Others were larger, great behemoths of muscle and hardened horseflesh; these were the warhorses. Great beasts bred for war, without their steeds, what was a knight? Even the crusaders far off in the Orient, where food and water ran scarce, each holy knight, the mighty crusaders that fought the infidels, was nothing without their horses.
John Talbot's horse was one that mimicked his wealth, a beast of black spotted with grey, larger than Arthur and Edwin if they had been on each other's shoulders. Gorgon was the name given to the horse. Gorgon was larger than even Bull, the stallion of his father, Robert.
Edwin felt its heartbeat through its thick chest, beating with a power many of its breed could never hope to match. Gorgon ate oats straight from his hand with a sense of comfort Edwin relished. Since his arrival, Gorgon, besides Arthur, was the one thing Edwin had come to know well. One of his duties was to care for the horse daily, to brush it, take it for exercise beyond the walls, and to feed it.
"You're not welcome here."
Surprised, Edwin turned away from the horse to face the newcomer. She was unmistakable, with red hair and green, emerald eyes that reminded Edwin of Eleanor, whom he wished to be seeing instead.
"Did you hear me, your little runt?" She questioned, Edwin knew it wasn't actually a question, nor was it the first time she had asked him.
Edwin didn't answer; his attention was focused on his charge in front of him, the horse eagerly eating from his palm still. A thick, dry ball impacted upon his back, breaking apart into a dozen different bits of shrapnel. The smell of manure was immediate and unwelcome.
"Mark my words, you will never become a squire; your family line ends with you." Lady Talbot threatened. "There are many ways in which a child may never reach adulthood.
Edwin, his back towards Lady Talbot, listened to the retreating footsteps as she left the stables.
Lady Talbot was everything her husband was not. She was young enough to be mistaken for her daughter's sister. She was wrathful, sinful, and harbored an anger Edwin would not have given credit for if he had not been the one to experience it these past months.
Four months of cleaning was her doing, Edwin knew it, so did Arthur. He had repeatedly attempted to come up with ideas for how to work around this, but he had failed each time.
Hugh had not healed from his injuries as Edwin had; priests and doctors doubted he would ever look as regal as he had previously. Lady Talbot blamed Edwin for her son's misfortune. Edwin was more than willing to suffer the hatred of Hugh's mother for as long as he served as squire.