The Sword of Aradel Read Free

ordered. “Let no one see what lies under it.”
    It was an odd thing for Brother Benedict to insist on, but there was no time to ask the reason for it. Then the sudden memory of his last beating drove all questions from his mind. He jerked the shapeless cap over his head and ran out to the well.
    No one noticed him at first. He managed to draw two buckets of water and pour them into the trough, and was hurrying across the corner of the courtyard with the third when the prior and another monk came from the stable with young Rupert’s horse.
    Brian saw the prior and the horse, and he glimpsed the swaggering Rupert moving impatiently forward to take the reins. He veered quickly to avoid Rupert, and failed to note the little movement of one of the titled students who slyly thrust a foot in his path. It was an old trick, too often used on him.
    He tripped and went sprawling. The bucket slammed out of his grasp, and most of its contents splashed over Rupert’s bright hose and pointed boots.
    Brian got up cringing, stammering apologies. He was met instantly by a furious blow to the head that knocked off his cap and sent him reeling to the cobblestones.
    For brief seconds he was aware of the great, gaunt Albericus staring at him, merciless eyes regarding him oddly. Then he saw the convulsed face of the advancing Rupert. He could hear Rupert’s curses, and almost feel the vicious kicks that in the next breath would send him writhing in pain. But in that tiny moment out of time something turned over in him. Old hates came to a boil. Even if it killed him, he knew he had taken all he would ever take from Rupert or his kind.
    Just before the first kick reached him he rolled aside and sprang up with clenched fists and smashed Rupert in the mouth. It did little more than bring gasps from the onlookers and send the much stronger Rupert staggering back in a fury, reaching for the fabled sword.
    Brian had not counted on this. Fear went through him. The sword was invincible. “For shame!” he cried. “That sword has never been drawn against a peasant of this land, or an unarmed person. For shame!”
    â€œThat sword is for destroying enemies!” Albericus said harshly. “Use it! Run the rascal through!”
    Brian leaped back as the shining blade flashed toward him. He looked wildly around for an avenue of escape, but other swords suddenly barred the way. He was praying for some means of defense when one came sailing magically through the grapevines. It was a quarterstaff.
    He caught it expertly and immediately attacked, more in desperation than in hope. How could he possibly triumph over that incredible weapon? Yet, even if he was fated to die this morning, he was grimly determined to take his opponent with him.
    But after only two quick passes with the staff he realized with a shock that something was wrong. Either the sword had lost its magic, or Rupert had no skill whatever in handling it.
    Hope rose in him. He attacked furiously with all his strength, driving Rupert back. Suddenly one end of the whirling staff caught the sword on the hilt and sent it flying. While it was still in the air he managed to give Rupert a resounding crack on the head that instantly crumpled him.
    For a moment Brian stood trembling, hardly believing what he had done. Then, in a language he did not know he knew, someone shouted to him to run.
    He turned and made a dash through the encircling men-at-arms.

2
    Merra
    I T WAS ONLY BECAUSE EVERYONE IN THE COURTYARD was in a momentary state of shock that Brian was able to reach a corner of the smithy without being stopped. The line of knights and squires, who had been closing in on him during the fight, could have cut him down easily, for their swords were already drawn. But they seemed paralyzed by his incredible victory. Not only was their new ruler lying motionless before them, but the invincible sword of Aradel had been vanquished by a ragged stableboy with a