'Try to eat something, Will. Tomorrow's a big day, after
all.'
Jenny, blonde, pretty and cheerful, gestured towards Wills barely
touched plate and smiled encouragingly at him. Will made an attempt
to return the smile but it was a dismal failure. He picked at
the plate before him, piled high with his favourite foods. Tonight,
his stomach knotted tight with tension and anticipation, he could
hardly bring himself to swallow a bite.
Tomorrow would be a big day, he knew. He knew it all too well,
in fact. Tomorrow would be the biggest day in his life, because
tomorrow was the Choosing Day and it would determine how he spent
the rest of his life.
'Nerves, I imagine,' said George, setting down his loaded fork
and seizing the lapels of his jacket in a judicious manner. He
was a thin, gangly and studious boy, fascinated by rules and regulations
and with a penchant for examining and debating both sides of any
question - sometimes at great length. 'Dreadful thing, nervousness.
It can just freeze you up so you cant think, cant eat, cant speak.'
'I'm not nervous,' Will said quickly, noticing that Horace had
looked up, ready to form a sarcastic comment. George nodded several
times, considering Wills statement. 'On the other hand,' he added,
'a little nervousness can actually improve performance. It can
heighten your perceptions and sharpen your reactions. So, the
fact that you are worried, if, in fact, you are, is not necessarily
something to be worried about, of itself so to speak.'
In spite of himself, a wry smile touched Will's mouth. George would be a natural in the legal profession, he thought. He would almost certainly be the Scribemasters choice on the following morning. Perhaps, Will thought, that was at the heart of his own problem. He was the only one of the five wardmates who had any fears about the Choosing that would take place within twelve hours.
'He ought to be nervous!' Horace scoffed. 'After all, which Craftmaster
is going to want him as an apprentice?'
'I'm sure were all nervous,' Alyss said. She directed one of her
rare smiles at Will. 'We'd be stupid not to be.
'Well, Im not!' Horace said, then reddened as Alyss raised one
eyebrow and Jenny giggled.
It was typical of Alyss, Will thought. He knew that the tall,
graceful girl had already been promised a place as an apprentice
by Lady Pauline, head of Castle Redmont's Diplomatic Service.
Her pretence that she was nervous about the following day, and
her tact in refraining from pointing out Horaces gaffe, showed
that she was already a diplomat of some skill.
Jenny, of course, would gravitate immediately to the castle kitchens,
domain of Master Chubb, Redmont's Head Chef. He was a man renowned
throughout the Kingdom for the banquets served in the castles
massive dining hall. Jenny loved food and cooking and her easygoing
nature and unfailing good humour would make her an invaluable
staff member in the turmoil of the castle kitchens.
Battleschool would be Horace's choice. Will glanced at his wardmate
now, hungrily tucking into the roast turkey, ham and potatoes
that he had heaped onto his plate. Horace was big for his age
and a natural athlete. The chances that he would be refused were
virtually nonexistent. Horace was exactly the type of recruit
that Sir Rodney looked for in his warrior apprentices. Strong,
athletic, fit. And, thought Will a trifle sourly, not too bright.
Battleschool was the path to knighthood for boys like Horace born
commoners but with the physical abilities to serve as knights
of the Kingdom.
Which left Will. What would his choice be? More importantly, as
Horace had pointed out, what Craftmaster would accept him as an
apprentice? For Choosing Day was the pivotal point in the life
of the castle wards. They were orphan children raised by the generosity
of Baron Arald, the Lord of Redmont Fief. For the most part, their
parents had died in the service of the fief, and the Baron saw
it as his responsibility to care for and raise the children of
his former subjects and to give them an opportunity to improve
their station in life wherever possible. Choosing Day provided
that opportunity.
Each year, castle wards turning fifteen could apply to be apprenticed
to the masters of the various crafts that served the castle and
its people. Ordinarily, craft apprentices were selected by dint
of their parents occupations or influence with the Craftmasters.
The castle wards usually had no such influence and this was their
chance to win a future for themselves. Those wards who werent
chosen, or for whom no openings could be found, would be assigned
to farming families in the nearby village, providing farm labour
to raise the crops and animals that fed the castle inhabitants.
It was rare for this to happen, Will knew. The Baron and his Craftmasters
usually went out of their way to fit the wards into one craft
or another. But it could happen and it was a fate he feared more
than anything.
Horace caught his eye now and gave him a smug smile. 'Still planning
on applying for Battleschool, Will?' he asked, through a mouthful
of turkey and potatoes. 'Better eat something then. Youll need
to build yourself up a little.'
He snorted with laughter and Will glowered at him. A few weeks previously, Horace had overheard Will confiding to Alyss that he desperately wanted to be selected for Battleschool, and he had made Will's life a misery ever since, pointing out on every possible occasion that Will's slight build was totally unsuited for the rigours of Battleschool training. The fact that Horace was probably right only made matters worse. Where Horace was tall and muscular, Will was small and wiry. He was agile and fast and surprisingly strong but he simply didnt have the size that he knew was required of Battleschool apprentices. He'd hoped against hope for the past few years that he would have what people called his growing spurt before the Choosing Day came around. But it had never happened and now the day was nearly here.
