Read Online Keeper of the Grail by Michael P. Spradlin - Free Book Online

me.
    “Where did Sir Thomas find you, Tristan?”
    “I’ve been living with the monks at St. Alban’s Abbey,” I said.
    “I’ve heard of St. Alban’s. Were you taking vows?”
    “No, sir. I’m an orphan. I was left with the monks as a babe. Sir Thomas and his men came through two days ago. He asked me to join him as his squire.”
    “I see,” said Little John. He didn’t say anything more for a while as he worked. Removing the loose shoe on Dauntless’ foreleg, he took it to the forge, pumping the bellows until the coals glowed bright orange. As the shoe heated, it turned first white and then orange in the fire. Moving it to the anvil, he took a hammer from the bench and pounded on the horseshoe several times until it took a shape that pleased him. He plunged the horseshoe into the tub of water, and the steam rose in the air with a hiss. In a few moments the horseshoe was reattached.
    “Have you known Sir Thomas for a long time?” I asked.
    Little John stood and wiped his hands on his apron. “Aye, for a while. Before Sir Thomas joined the Temple, I was a smith in King Henry’s army, attached to Sir Thomas’ regiment. After I left the army, I came here to Dover. Whenever Sir Thomas passes through, he makes sure to bring his horses by for shoes. I also provide Sir Thomas with his swords. Come, let me show you.”
    Little John went through the back door, and in the rear was another workbench set along the back wall of the shop. On it lay a short sword that appeared to be brand new. He held it out to me with the handle forward. “Take it,” he said.
    I took the sword in my hand, testing its weight. It was about two feet long, and the hilt was wrapped in black leather. I’d never held a sword before, and was surprised at the weight and heft of it.
    “First time holding a sword?” he asked.
    “Yes, sir,” I said.
    “Well, I think you’ll soon become familiar with them. You’ll need to know about swords and weapons where you’re going. This is called the hilt,” he said, pointing to the leather grip enclosed by my hand. “Those metal pieces sticking out from above the hilt are guards. That metal knob on the end of the hilt is the pommel.”
    I looked at the pommel and saw that there was a small illustration engraved in it. It showed two knights riding double on a single horse.
    “That is a symbol of the Templars,” Little John said. “The Knights of the Temple take a vow of poverty, and to share a horse shows that they are willing to do without in service to God.”
    I nodded in understanding, for I had seen this same illustration in paintings and tapestries that hung in the halls of the Commandery.
    “This is a short sword. It is used primarily for self-defense. It is made of fine steel and is very sharp. But it is not meant to stand up to the weight of a battle sword or scimitar: it is for quick thrusts and jabs only, not for fancy swordplay. Go ahead. Give it a try. Swing it back and forth a few times.”
    I stepped a few feet away from Little John, brandishing the sword through the air in a crossing pattern. I knew nothing of swords, but it seemed a fine weapon. Not too heavy, but it had some heft to it.
    “It’s beautiful,” I said.
    Little John reached out and took the sword carefully in his hand.
    “Take the grip deeper in your fist, like this,” he said. “Make sure that your hand fits snugly under the guards for protection. Here, let me show you.”
    So Little John gave me my first brief lesson in swordplay, teaching me to use the weapon correctly so that I didn’t accidentally injure myself.
    After just a few minutes of these exercises, my arm had begun to ache, and I told Little John that I must return with Dauntless to the Commandery. To my surprise he took a scabbard from the workbench, sheathed the sword, then handed it back to me.
    “It is yours,” he said.
    My jaw dropped open. “What? No, sir, I couldn’t possibly accept it.”
    Little John laughed and held out his hand