Post by figgsthepirate on Aug 30, 2011 8:09:34 GMT 10
Title: The Great Debaters
Rating: PG
Word Count: 962
Card: Summer
Bingo: sweat + discussions + relax + cotton + lemonade
Summary: Wyldon and Stefan discuss lady knights, kings, and the rights of women.
AN: Man, I'm on a roll! This is number two - go read As Natural as Breathing first! Can I just say, this was surreal to write. I'm not a hardcore feminist, but writing Wyldon's POV was just so out of my comfort zone.
----------------------------------------
“What do you think about lady knights?” Wyldon asked, keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling. Beside him, the lanky hostler blew a stray wisp of hair from his sticky brow and shifted in the straw.
“I was wonderin’ when ye were goin’ t’ask,” came the lazy reply.
Wyldon jabbed Stefan in the side with his elbow, and the hostler rolled over, gasping with laughter. “You could’ve asked me to stop,” the young knight reminded him. “I just… had to get it off my chest.”
“I know.” Stefan settled back, arms behind his head, and watched the dust motes float dreamily around his nose. “I wasna surprised, honestly. George knew, and Johnny – ’scuse me, Prince Jonathan – knew.”
A well-bred snort interrupted him. “I still fail to see how you can serve two kings.”
Stefan shrugged, a rustle of cotton against the hay. “They govern two different worlds. Roald’s as outta place in t’ Lower City as George is in palace finery. I owe ’Is Majesty my allegiance, but George is my friend. The king who can claim his subject’s friendship is powerful indeed.”
“You can’t tell me this George of yours is friends with those whose ears he takes?”
Stefan chortled. “I ’spose not. But what I was sayin’ – I had my suspicions, as did we all. An’ ye can’t deny she did the realm a favor by doin’ away wit’ His Grace.”
“She did,” Wyldon admitted sourly, his mouth twisting as though he had tasted something bitter. “But she has the Gift.”
Stefan shrugged again. “Aye, so? She cain’t make her muscles grow wit’ magic any more’n ye can, and Eleni – George’s healer mum – said she – Alanna – will have trouble nursin’ her own children. Comes from bindin’ herself flat for nigh on eight years. That’s not magic, that’s blood and sweat and work, much as ye or any other page and squire done.”
“I still say she’s one in a million,” Wyldon replied stubbornly. “Women – all right, most women – aren’t fit for knighthood.”
“Maybe so. I ain’t learned like ye,” came the calm response. “But it seems to me that females oughta be able t' defend their country in any way they like, same as men. They used to, ye know – Sir Myles was tellin’ the King an’ Queen, there was lady knights less than a century ago.”
“And they forbade it because women were a distraction in battle.”
“Maybe men are t’ fools for getting’ distracted, eh?”
“Men died, Stefan! Good men, men who could have led armies and conquered nations –”
“As if Tortall didn’t do enough o’ that, back these past few decades.”
“Can you imagine girls training to be pages? It would be chaos! Crying when they got rapped on the knuckles, flagging in their studies when they started mooning over boys or got their monthlies, fights breaking out among the boys if they’ve got their eye on a certain girl…”
Stefan barked a laugh. “I s’pose you didna hear, then? Sir Raoul and Sir Gary was sent on border patrol when they dueled over a lady’s glove. Didna have to be a page or squire, she was just herself.”
“Which proves my point!” Wyldon exclaimed, sitting up excitedly. “Girls flirt, they simper and preen. I have a little sister, I know how they are around men. And that’s not just a distraction for the boys, it’s a detriment to their own training.”
“I didna hear nothin’ of Alanna simperin’ nor preenin’.” Sighing, Stefan rolled so that he faced Wyldon on his head, head propped on one fist. “You’re set in your ways, Wyl-boy, an’ I ain’t sayin’ it’s a bad thing. Ye know what ye believe and why ye believe it. But think, hey? Times are changin’, shore as lemons make lemonade. Sir Alanna may have ridden off into the sunset, but the King and Queen are makin’ it legal for girls to train for their knighthood again.”
“How do you know that?” Wyldon demanded.
Stefan tapped the side of his nose with a grin. “I’m the eyes and ears of the Rogue in the palace, Wyl, ye know that.”
“I know. I just forget how much you hear sometimes,” he muttered, lying back down.
“So if girls can train for knighthood, why, someday ye could be in command over a lady knight, or fighting side by side with one,” Stefan went on. “What then? Will ye push her down, put her in the back where she’s safe, treat her like a fragile invalid? Like someone who’s less than human?”
“I don’t know,” Wyldon scowled. “I’ll – I’ll refuse to work with her. I’ll put her under someone else’s command.”
The hostler chuckled softly. “Ye cain’t avoid it, Wyl-boy. That’s the mark of a coward.”
“I am not a coward!” Wyldon hissed. “You just listen, stable-hand. I am a knight of the realm and a noble peer. For eight years I’ve learned about the Code of Chivalry, and history, and literature, things you don’t know anything about. I am more than entitled to my opinion.”
For a moment there was silence in the hayloft, and then Stefan pushed himself up, his breath puffing whitely in the chill air. “I got duties to see to, milord.” He tugged his forelock, easygoing face unreadable, and turned to climb down the ladder.
“Stefan!” Wyldon stopped short, feeling an iron hand seize his throat. His friend paused, his back to him, but Wyldon couldn’t seem to force the words out. After a moment’s pause, Stefan continued down the rungs until only the wispy, untidy top of his head was visible.
“Ye cain’t say it, can ye?” he whispered.
Wordless, choking on his own pride and unable to swallow, Wyldon shook his head. Then the head was gone, and he was alone in the loft with no one but himself for company.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 962
Card: Summer
Bingo: sweat + discussions + relax + cotton + lemonade
Summary: Wyldon and Stefan discuss lady knights, kings, and the rights of women.
AN: Man, I'm on a roll! This is number two - go read As Natural as Breathing first! Can I just say, this was surreal to write. I'm not a hardcore feminist, but writing Wyldon's POV was just so out of my comfort zone.
----------------------------------------
“What do you think about lady knights?” Wyldon asked, keeping his eyes trained on the ceiling. Beside him, the lanky hostler blew a stray wisp of hair from his sticky brow and shifted in the straw.
“I was wonderin’ when ye were goin’ t’ask,” came the lazy reply.
Wyldon jabbed Stefan in the side with his elbow, and the hostler rolled over, gasping with laughter. “You could’ve asked me to stop,” the young knight reminded him. “I just… had to get it off my chest.”
“I know.” Stefan settled back, arms behind his head, and watched the dust motes float dreamily around his nose. “I wasna surprised, honestly. George knew, and Johnny – ’scuse me, Prince Jonathan – knew.”
A well-bred snort interrupted him. “I still fail to see how you can serve two kings.”
Stefan shrugged, a rustle of cotton against the hay. “They govern two different worlds. Roald’s as outta place in t’ Lower City as George is in palace finery. I owe ’Is Majesty my allegiance, but George is my friend. The king who can claim his subject’s friendship is powerful indeed.”
“You can’t tell me this George of yours is friends with those whose ears he takes?”
Stefan chortled. “I ’spose not. But what I was sayin’ – I had my suspicions, as did we all. An’ ye can’t deny she did the realm a favor by doin’ away wit’ His Grace.”
“She did,” Wyldon admitted sourly, his mouth twisting as though he had tasted something bitter. “But she has the Gift.”
Stefan shrugged again. “Aye, so? She cain’t make her muscles grow wit’ magic any more’n ye can, and Eleni – George’s healer mum – said she – Alanna – will have trouble nursin’ her own children. Comes from bindin’ herself flat for nigh on eight years. That’s not magic, that’s blood and sweat and work, much as ye or any other page and squire done.”
“I still say she’s one in a million,” Wyldon replied stubbornly. “Women – all right, most women – aren’t fit for knighthood.”
“Maybe so. I ain’t learned like ye,” came the calm response. “But it seems to me that females oughta be able t' defend their country in any way they like, same as men. They used to, ye know – Sir Myles was tellin’ the King an’ Queen, there was lady knights less than a century ago.”
“And they forbade it because women were a distraction in battle.”
“Maybe men are t’ fools for getting’ distracted, eh?”
“Men died, Stefan! Good men, men who could have led armies and conquered nations –”
“As if Tortall didn’t do enough o’ that, back these past few decades.”
“Can you imagine girls training to be pages? It would be chaos! Crying when they got rapped on the knuckles, flagging in their studies when they started mooning over boys or got their monthlies, fights breaking out among the boys if they’ve got their eye on a certain girl…”
Stefan barked a laugh. “I s’pose you didna hear, then? Sir Raoul and Sir Gary was sent on border patrol when they dueled over a lady’s glove. Didna have to be a page or squire, she was just herself.”
“Which proves my point!” Wyldon exclaimed, sitting up excitedly. “Girls flirt, they simper and preen. I have a little sister, I know how they are around men. And that’s not just a distraction for the boys, it’s a detriment to their own training.”
“I didna hear nothin’ of Alanna simperin’ nor preenin’.” Sighing, Stefan rolled so that he faced Wyldon on his head, head propped on one fist. “You’re set in your ways, Wyl-boy, an’ I ain’t sayin’ it’s a bad thing. Ye know what ye believe and why ye believe it. But think, hey? Times are changin’, shore as lemons make lemonade. Sir Alanna may have ridden off into the sunset, but the King and Queen are makin’ it legal for girls to train for their knighthood again.”
“How do you know that?” Wyldon demanded.
Stefan tapped the side of his nose with a grin. “I’m the eyes and ears of the Rogue in the palace, Wyl, ye know that.”
“I know. I just forget how much you hear sometimes,” he muttered, lying back down.
“So if girls can train for knighthood, why, someday ye could be in command over a lady knight, or fighting side by side with one,” Stefan went on. “What then? Will ye push her down, put her in the back where she’s safe, treat her like a fragile invalid? Like someone who’s less than human?”
“I don’t know,” Wyldon scowled. “I’ll – I’ll refuse to work with her. I’ll put her under someone else’s command.”
The hostler chuckled softly. “Ye cain’t avoid it, Wyl-boy. That’s the mark of a coward.”
“I am not a coward!” Wyldon hissed. “You just listen, stable-hand. I am a knight of the realm and a noble peer. For eight years I’ve learned about the Code of Chivalry, and history, and literature, things you don’t know anything about. I am more than entitled to my opinion.”
For a moment there was silence in the hayloft, and then Stefan pushed himself up, his breath puffing whitely in the chill air. “I got duties to see to, milord.” He tugged his forelock, easygoing face unreadable, and turned to climb down the ladder.
“Stefan!” Wyldon stopped short, feeling an iron hand seize his throat. His friend paused, his back to him, but Wyldon couldn’t seem to force the words out. After a moment’s pause, Stefan continued down the rungs until only the wispy, untidy top of his head was visible.
“Ye cain’t say it, can ye?” he whispered.
Wordless, choking on his own pride and unable to swallow, Wyldon shook his head. Then the head was gone, and he was alone in the loft with no one but himself for company.