Under the Ashen Banner

Chapter Five: The Arbalist (Part 2)

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Neil followed Sir Garrett through the camp, toward the area where the craftsmen worked. Blacksmiths hammered at their anvils. Cobblers and tailors sewed. Fletchers carved wood into arrows and crossbow bolts. Many had their wares out on tables for display. Officers approached and took their pick, compensating the craftsmen with silver and sometimes even gold.

Having seen the way the Commanders were dressed, Neil was hoping for a full suit of plate armor, a helmet with a visor, and maybe a tabard to go over it. He fantasized about what the symbol on his tabard might be. While he had no family crest, he thought that perhaps he could create one, and then, if he had children some day, they might grow up to wear that same crest. He could be the patriarch of his own clan, and future generations could look back to him as their heroic ancestor who first wore the crest. Perhaps it could be a dragon? Or a phoenix? Or, perhaps he could describe to the tailor what the creature that saved him in the forest looked like, and they could embroider something like that for him.

"Here, try this on," said Sir Garrett, shoving something made of cloth into his arms.

Neil unfolded it and held it up. It was a jacket long enough to hang down past his knees. All across it was a stitching pattern forming diamond shapes, and the padding underneath seemed at least half an inch thick.

"A gambeson?" said Neil.

"Oh, so you do pay attention in your lessons?" Sir Garrett chuckled.

"Why not plate armor?" Neil asked. "Or, at least chain-mail?"

"Because that stuff's more expensive," said Sir Garrett. "When you've made some money, feel free to buy yourself better armor if you want. Or maybe you'll get lucky and loot something good off an enemy. For now, just be grateful for what you get, boy."

Neil shrugged. He supposed that was fair, as he wasn't actually paying for any of this himself. He would have much preferred the protection that plate armor offered, and how awe-inspiring he would have looked wearing it, but gambesons still saved lives. He slipped the jacket on over his head and pulled it down. It fit a little loose, and the sleeves extended to the middle of his palms.

He was about to voice that the gambeson was a little too big when Sir Garret shoved a kettle hem down on his head and adjusted the chin strap tight under his chin. Neil immediately felt silly wearing it. The helmet was basically a steel bowl with a rim around the edges. It could easily double as a shaving basin.

"Perfect!" said Sir Garrett.

"No visor?" Neil asked. "How do I protect my face?"

"Your an arbalist, and that means you need to be able to see," said Sir Garrett. "And because you're using a crossbow, you won't be in the thick of it, so you won't have to worry so much about that. Now, come on. There are a couple more things I want to get you."

As Neil followed Sir Garrett through the camp, he glanced over at some of the other soldiers and noticed for the first time that the majority of them wore gambesons, as he did, and few of them wore helmets with visors. He felt a little foolish for not having noticed this before and being so dazzled by the Commanders in their gleaming steel plates.

Sir Garrett stopped outside the tent of a shieldsmith. The smith had his back turned to him at the time, and was polishing one of his wares. "Jeane. Hey, Jeane!" the old knight called out.

The smith turned around, and what Neil had thought, by the broad shoulders and short hair, to be a man was, in fact, a woman. A woman with strong arms, a face marred with tiny burn scars, and a broad chin. In a husky voice, Jeane said, "Commander. What can I do for you?"

Sir Garrett gestured to Neil by his side. "I need a shield suitable for our new crossbowman here."

Jeane took a cloth and wiped her hands on it. "You thinking a pavise?"

"Yeah," said Sir Garrett. "A wall shield sounds perfect."

Jeane nodded and crossed over to a stack of shields just a few paces away. She held up one that must have been three feet tall and two feet wide, with a spike on the bottom.

Sir Garret grinned when he saw it and took it off her hands. "That's a good one." He turned to Neil. "Here. Hold this. Get a feel for how heavy it is."

Neil took it from the old knight and struggled to hold it up. "This thing weighs a ton. How am I supposed to use it?"

"Like this." The old knight pushed down on the top of the shield, piercing the ground with the spike on the bottom. "Let go."

When Neil released his hands from the pavise, it stood up, held in place by the spike.

Sir Garrett said, "You march onto the battlefield with your fellow arbalists until you find the spot you're shooting from. Then you set this up and you take cover behind it. When the enemies' arrows and bolts come, you will be safe behind this portable wall."

Neil crouched behind the pavise to test it out and found that he could fit his whole body behind it if he crouched low enough. He stood again and said to the old knight, "Thank you, Commander."

"Now we just got to get you a mace," said Sir Garrett.

"Why a mace?" Neil asked.

"You mean why not a sword?" The old knight chuckled. "Because I've seen the way you use a sword. You swing it like it's a club. If that's the way you fight anyway, may as well get you a weapon suited to your style. If you don't like it don't worry, you won't have to use it that often. It's just good to have something like that, in case the enemy gets too close for you to use your crossbow."

"How common is that?" Neil asked.

Sir Garrett flinched and his eyes fluttered as if the question made him remember something he'd wished to leave forgotten. "It's... rare, but it does occur, and when it does... well, you best be ready for it."

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