Winter's Blossom: The Seasons of Arthur

Chapter 4

As the years slipped by Owain and I only grew closer as we suffered together under the tyranny of our family. As we grew Mark no longer had the ability to bully us himself but Mordred seemed to get bigger every day. He was a big lumbering lad with thick shoulders which seemed to defy everything Ector told us about the benefits of us training with lead weighted weapons while he trained with simple iron. He towered a foot over us, even Owain who was very tall for his age and his shoulders seemed almost as a man's. What was worse for us was that he had formed a group of friends, or rather lackeys who he could show off to and order us to join in his bullying of us. If they stumbled upon us, we learned to run and run fast because if they caught us, we could be faced with a vicious shoeing.

Thankfully this was rare and could only happen in the woods that surrounded the buildings, were Owain, Cei and I would spend our time together playing various games. Enniaun Girt did not care if his elder sons beat his youngest, but anyone else would be a blight on his family and he was likely to take someone's hand for that.

A lot of Mordred's friends knew this, and at first had been afraid to lay a hand on us for this reason. However, some were more afraid of Mordred who would one day be their lord, and of any bullying repercussions that he might inflict on them instead. A couple had a vicious streak that spoke of the relish they felt at turning the social tables on their lord's sons.

Very rarely did they get the drop on us though as we learned to be quick. The boys may have been bigger than us but we were faster and, for the most part cleverer, so that even when they tried to cast a net and trap us at our games, we tended to escape more often than not. Sometimes we treated it as a game, laughing as we fled but there was an all too real sense of fear that underlay our excitement.

Of course we were still regularly thrashed by my uncle too, and rarely for things that we deserved. One time we were beaten particularly violently by Enniaun when Mordred stole his father's best sword to one of the wooden stakes that were used to practise with the weighted wooden blades and attacked it, ruining the blade on the wood and then blaming it on us. We were thrashed so badly that I could not sleep without waking with pain for almost a week. A servant had stood up and said that he had seen that it was Mordred and not us who had stolen the sword. Enniaun Girt had the servant thrashed too for lying about his son and then dismissed from his service.

It meant that we were filled with mixed emotions every time Enniaun Girt was called to court or to war. For precious weeks were free from him, but away from his oversight there were no shackles to Mordred's malice.

We had to be careful to stay away from places we could be attacked in those times though. Ector was our guardian then. He had become like a father to Owain and me anyway. I was orphaned and though my uncle Enniaun had taken me in he was little more than a tyrannical figurehead that seemed both to close and too distant. Enniaun may have been Owain's father but he hated his youngest son, and seemed to either pretend that he did not exist or would be punishing him for existing.

Ector loved us though. He was a kind old man whose heart still ached for the children who had died. He became a father to the two of us, and Cei a brother. I think we were a balm to his grieving heart as he watched us grow bigger and stronger. We were getting good in the practise yards now, and each of us were the best at something. Cei was the best with a spear, able to use it with needle like precision either in his hands or throwing it. Owain was the finest horseman in the entire household, not just among of we friends. He was graceful in the saddle, like one of those old Roman pictures of someone who was half man half horse. From the saddle he was able to control his horse with just his knees and calmly fight with a sword and spear in both hands. On foot though, I was the best with a sword. I was big and strong, and Ector insisted that I was faster than I had any right to be. I was even getting strong enough to hold my own with Mordred on the days when he deigned to fight with us. When he did so it really was like training for battle, because it seemed like he was truly trying to kill us. He would try to overpower us and then batter us bloody. Though we would still be bloodied, Mordred never seemed specifically malicious to Cei or me. He was content to just beat us down. Owain though. Mordred would attack his brother so violently that even when he had overpowered him, he would continue to swing and stamp so that Ector would have to pull him away. At times I would jump in, screaming, trying to attack Mordred but he would beat me down, and then Enniaun would beat me again later.