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practice field,” said Sir Basil, winking at me as he headed off on whatever other business had brought him here. I managed to return to the Commandery, Dauntless in tow, without further incident. I wondered if I should tell Sir Thomas what had transpired in the marketplace. As I reached the practice field, I thought it best to keep it to myself. Indeed I would be hard-pressed to even identify any of the guards who had followed me that day. Maybe I would tell him later, after I had had time to think over the incident more clearly.
    The practice field lay behind the Commandery, not far from our quarters. I watched as a knight led his horse through its paces, charging first one way, then the other around a series of posts that had been set in the ground. At last, the knight, who was carrying a steel-tipped lance, rose slightly on the stirrups. He spurred the horse forward, the lance held tight against his side, then thrust it forward through a steel ring that hung from the target. The ring detached from the string that held it and slid down the length of the lance that the knight now pointed skyward. He reined his horse to a stop, then trotted back to the target. Lowering the lance, his squire stepped forward to remove the ring and retie it to the post.
    “Well done, Brother Wesley,” Sir Thomas called out.
    He noticed my approach then. “There you are. I see Little John has delivered my gift.”
    “Sire, I had no idea. I’m not sure if I can accept such a…”
    Sir Thomas raised his hand. “No fuss, lad. You are my squire. It is my duty to see that you are properly equipped. The sword pleases you, I take it?”
    “Yes, sire, it is a beautiful weapon,” I said.
    Sir Thomas beamed a smile. “Good. Excellent. Well then, now would seem the perfect time to begin your training. Follow me.”
    In a corner of the field stood a weapons rack. Sir Thomas pulled a large battle sword from it and handed it to me. It was longer and heavier than my own sword, and I found it difficult to lift, let alone hold.
    “You will need to practice and work to gain strength in your arms and upper body,” he said. “The battlefield is no place to learn that you can’t lift or move something at a crucial moment.”
    Sir Thomas returned the battle sword to the rack, picking up two wooden practice swords instead, and handed one to me.
    “Grip it like this,” he said. He held the hilt of the sword out so that I could see how both of his hands curled around it, the forefinger of his left hand slightly overlapping the little finger of the right hand. I took the same grip on the sword and held it in front of me at the ready.
    Thus began my first practice with the sword. Sir Thomas was a magnificent swordsman, and after a while, I was covered with welts and bruises from being pummeled by his wooden sword. It flashed and darted at me like a serpent’s tongue. If I managed to stop or parry one of his thrusts, he whacked back at me even faster twice or three times.
    From that first moment on the field, practice and work became the essential elements of my life. Over the next few weeks, I immersed myself in the world of the Templars, quickly learning what was expected of me. As in my previous life, there was work and plenty of it. After the first few days I learned that whereas the monks concerned themselves with growing their crops and praying to God, the Templars were all about preparing to fight. In fact, Sir Basil said the life of a Templar knight was divided into three stages: getting ready to fight, fighting and getting ready to fight again.
    On a typical day, we squires took our weapons practice in the afternoon. It was during such a session that Sir Hugh made another effort to bully me.
    We were drilling with the wooden training swords under the watchful eye of Master Sergeanto LeMaire. A squat yet powerfully built man, he was a stern taskmaster on the practice field, but an excellent instructor. On this day he led us through our paces,