Page 42 of The Tempest
“That is the field of dregs,” Payne said, looking at her. “Dregs are the newest recruits and the class they face is a test of stamina and strength. If they dunna pass it, then they’re sent home. Once they pass the initial class, they’re called recruits, and if a recruit fails a class at any time over his five-year training course here, he’s sent home.”
The sun was just coming over the eastern horizon and Astria shielded her eyes from the blinding rays. “Because you do not train men who fail,” she said softly.
He shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “We dunna train women who fail, either.”
“You train women as well?”
“We do.”
“Womenwarriors?”
“We train anyone if they pass the initial tests,” Payne said. “If ye passed The Leviathan’s stamina test, we’d even train ye.”
He meant her, personally. There was mirth in his eyes as he spoke. Still shielding her eyes from the sun, Astria looked up at him. “Who is The Leviathan?”
“Tay Munro,” Payne said. “He oversees the first class that dregs are part of. If ye can master his class, ye can master anything.”
“Why do they call him The Leviathan?”
Payne started to walk again, following a small road away from the gatehouse, heading north. “Because the man is the size of one,” he said. “Every trainer at Blackchurch has a moniker,something that defines him. Something that speaks of who he is and what he does.”
“Do you have one?”
“I do.”
“What is it?”
He winked at her. “The Tempest.”
A smile played on her lips. “I’m afraid to ask why they call you that.”
He grinned. “Because when I fight, I am a storm,” he said. “In battle, I am a violent wind, blowing down all in my path. I am the rain that blinds an enemy, the lightning that destroys him. I am all those things when it comes tae warfare, and Tempest was the name given tae me by my brethren.”
She was still smiling at him. “You must be fearsome, indeed.”
He simply nodded because that was a given. He was fearsome, dedicated, and fearless. But not wanting to talk about himself and extoll his battle virtues to the woman he’d just married, because he was sure there were other virtues she might be more interested in, he pointed ahead.
“See the gathering of cottages down there?” he said.
Astria could see what he was indicating—it looked like the main avenue of any village. The road was lined with small cottages, some two-storied, all of them with wattle-and-daub construction. There had to be more than a dozen of them on each side of the road, all of them neatly kept, and then further down the road seemed to be a village center of sorts. She could see even more cottages down there.
“I do,” she said. “It looks like a town.”
“It is,” Payne said. “Or, at least, it used tae be. When one of Lord Exmoor’s ancestors expanded Exmoor Castle tae include surrounding lands, he paid the people of the village for their homes and housed his men there. We all have cottages in the village.”
She glanced at him. “And you have a filthy cottage that you do not want me to see.”
He fought off a smirk. “I am not a maid,” he said defensively. “I dunna clean homes.”
“Nor do I,” she said. “But I will supervise people who do. That is whatIwas trained for.”
The comment made him look at her, perhaps hesitantly. “I dunna live grandly,” he said. “In fact, no one at Blackchurch does.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I dunna have servants. We do for ourselves.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “You are trying to tell me something, aren’t you?”
