A voice from the back answered, “Because they’re cheap.” A ripple of laughter followed.
“That’s true,” said Sergeant Eckels, “but it isn’t the only reason. Anyone else?”
“They’re warm,” said someone else.
“Also a good point,” said the sergeant amiably, “but we use them even in summer. Why do you think that is?” He waited a long minute before continuing. “The main reason is because it is the single most effective piece of armor you or I will ever wear. Short of something solid, such as a breastplate or helm, it is the only thing that will protect you from blunt impact.”
“I’d rather have the breastplate,” said a bolder voice in the crowd.
The sergeant tapped his own highly polished breastplate. “As would I, but you don’t wear one of these without first putting on an arming jacket or similar padding. The same is doubly true of mail. A thick gambeson will stop most cuts, lessen the impact of a sword blow, and sometimes even save you from more dangerous things. The biggest danger to you while wearing it is a thrust, or an arrow.” He pointed at one of the men sitting close to the front. “Lend me your sword, trainee.”
The man unsheathed his weapon, which was standard for most of them, a short falchion with a blade no more than two feet long. The sergeant inspected the edge with his thumb and then whipped the sword across in a fast cut that hit the pell so solidly that it rocked back despite its weighted base. The gambeson had only a shallow cut in it.
“The falchion is one of the most effective types of cutting swords, but as you can see, it wouldn’t have gotten through. In an actual fight, it probably would have been even less effective, because men don’t generally stand still when you swing at them. That’s one reason we will be teaching you how to effectively sharpen them. These swords need a very sharp edge if you’re to have any hope of cutting through padding.”
Sergeant Eckels returned the sword to its owner and unsheathed his own weapon, which appeared identical. He repeated his slash, but this time the sword cut through the gambeson entirely, though it only lightly scored the leather underneath. “With a very sharp blade and good technique, it is possible to cut the man wearing a padded jack, but it still isn’t much of a wound most of the time.” Then the sergeant stepped in and stabbed the pell, causing his sword to sink deeply into the pell. “As you can see, a thrust is much more effective, whether your sword is sharp or not.
“The enemies we will face are all wearing similar armor to what you have on now, and the most effective weapon you have for getting to them is the spear you carry, or failing that, a sword thrust,” finished the sergeant. “Questions?”
“What if they’re wearing mail?”
Sergeant Eckels nodded. “Good question. Mail does give a man better protection, so long as there’s padding beneath it. The principle is the same. If he’s got mail, a cut won’t work. Ever. Your best bet is still the spear. A solid thrust can pierce mail, though you probably won’t get as deep as you would otherwise. Failing that, your best bet is to hit them with something heavy enough to break the man under the armor. Anyone else?”
“If they’re using spears, and we’re using spears, and everyone is stabbing, what’s the point of wearing padding?” asked a man somewhere in the middle.
“In the middle of a battle, you may get hit several times, but most of those hits won’t be good ones. With a padded jack, your chances of getting wounded are much lower, but the gambeson isn’t your only protection.” He gestured to one of his other assistants, who carried a shield over to him. “This is your first and best line of protection, a shield. Given the choice between no shield and the best armor, or a shield and no armor, you’ll usually want the shield.”
He went on for some time after that, emphasizing the importance of prioritizing the placement of the shield depending on whether one was in the front, second, or third row of a battle line.
Once their rest was over, they did in fact practice sparring for a while, despite what the sergeant had just told them about its relative importance. Will learned how to make effective cuts and thrusts and watched practical demonstrations regarding when he should consider switching to the sword or continue using his spear.
In the last hour before the evening meal, they were shown how to sharpen their swords to a fine edge as well as how to maintain their other gear. Will was exhausted by the time they were finally released to go eat.
As they sat in the mess hall, he noticed that Dave’s cheek was swollen on one side. “What happened to you?” asked Will.
Dave grinned. “Hah. You should ask about the other guy.”
Sven shook his head in disgust. “That shit’s going to come back to haunt you.”
“I’m the one they should be looking out for,” bragged Dave.
Will couldn’t help but agree with Sven, but he stayed silent. He knew from experience that Dave wasn’t one to take advice, especially if it was good advice.
Through the rest of the week Will began to get used to the routine, though it still left him bone-tired at the end of every day. Latrine duty, breakfast, and then digging for the earthworks took up the mornings. After lunch, the entire company would practice marching and formation drills for a couple of hours before moving on to either sparring or learning yet another procedure. Some days it was learning to set up and repack their camp before or after a march, other days it was maintenance of their equipment and weapons.
Through it all Will was constantly hungry—hungry for sleep, and hungry for food. He had never had much fat on him, but what little had been there started to melt away. He was pretty sure he had lost weight, but when he looked at his arms, they definitely seemed more muscular. Then again, maybe it was his imagination.
The changes in Tiny were more noticeable. The big man had definitely been a little chubby, but he was losing weight quickly, revealing the incredible muscle that had been necessary to move him around in day-to-day life. Tiny was still massive, but he lost the almost baby-like roundness to his face and began to look positively dangerous.
Will still thought they would all be gaunt and skeletal by the time spring arrived, however. His belly continually reminded him he wasn’t getting enough food for all the labor that was expected of him. He began to have dreams about the meals at his grandfather’s house, especially the ones that the old man had made personally.
He doubted he would ever have the chance to learn any more about magic, but he kept the source of his turyn tightly compressed, and he occasionally practiced the runes his grandfather had taught him. He did it in secret at first, until he realized no one could see the runes besides him. To the others in his tent, it just looked as though he was sitting quietly. He gained a reputation for being quiet and introspective.
It was almost two weeks after Sven’s warning that he found out what the old soldier had been scolding Dave about. Will heard a strange scuffling that roused him from his sleep. The tent was dark, so he wasn’t sure what time it was, but he could see dark shapes moving nearby. It looked as though someone had been wrapped in something and was struggling.
Will sat up. The back wall of the tent had been unpegged, and several dark shapes were dragging a figure wrapped in a blanket out through it.