xymnovel Chapter 76 Peer Gathering
Chapter 76 Peer Gathering
The autumn sunlight in the Levant filtered through the branches of pomegranate trees, casting dappled patterns of light on the sandy ground in the royal palace's backyard.
King Baldwin and Prince Bohemond were still having a private conversation in their bedchamber. Queen Mother Maria had temporarily left to prepare for the dinner, leaving Princess Sibylla, Balian, and the Antioch knight brought by Bohemond to accompany the young men as they roamed freely in the courtyard.
The oppressive court etiquette temporarily dissipated. Five-year-old Baldwin, under the care of his mother Sibylla, played on his rocking horse while observing three bored older brothers in the courtyard.
Isabella sat next to Lyon, drinking citrus juice, while Lyon chatted casually with Raymond about Antioch.
"How boring to just wait around!" Young Bohemond stood in the middle of the courtyard, first stealing a glance at Isabella, then kicking aside a pebble, his gaze sweeping over the training equipment in the corner of the courtyard, and shouted, "Doesn't the royal palace in Jerusalem even have a decent training ground?"
Raymond immediately stopped talking to Leon, lowered his gaze, unconsciously rubbed the hem of his clothes with his hands, and looked timidly at his younger brother.
Leon looked at Balian for his opinion, while Balian looked at the Antiochian knight. Only after receiving a nod of approval did he speak to the boys, saying, "The training bows and wooden swords are over there. Would you like to have a match?"
Archery was an essential skill for young nobles in the Middle Ages. A guard brought in three short bows made of yew wood, suitable for the boys. Each bow weighed only 30 pounds, and the target was set up thirty paces away.
They put on leather finger guards, stood sideways facing the target, feet shoulder-width apart, and remained firmly planted. Their left hand held the bow loosely to avoid injuring their inner arm when the bowstring snapped back. Their right hand hooked the bowstring with their index, middle, and ring fingers.
Lyon drew his bow to shoot, but Bohemond Jr. scoffed and stepped forward. His bow-drawing posture was fluid and powerful, his back straight like that of a grown knight. Four arrows hit the bullseye in succession, the last one even splitting the fletching of the previous arrow.
"You're still hesitating?" He raised his chin and glanced at Leon, his eyes still darting towards Isabella. "The battlefield won't give you a chance to aim accurately!"
Leon ignored his provocation and calmly nocked an arrow. He didn't aim directly at the bullseye, but instead raised the arrowhead slightly. He fired four arrows in quick succession, each one skimming the edges of the red circle around the bullseye, with a distance of three arrow widths between them.
"Your shooting is indeed accurate," Leon said casually, "but these practice arrows didn't come out of nowhere, so I can't bear to damage them; every little bit helps."
"Tch, miser!" Young Bohemond scoffed, his face full of disdain. He then turned to his brother Raymond, who had his fingers on the bowstring but hadn't yet pulled it, and sneered, "Brother, it's your turn!"
Raymond bit his lip, staring blankly at the ground. Hearing his brother's urging, he suddenly came back to his senses. He shakily raised his shortbow, trying hard to recall the techniques his father had taught him. However, under the watchful eyes of the crowd, he was extremely nervous, his mind went blank, and he couldn't remember any of the techniques he had learned.
Seeing his brother's predicament, Bohemond Jr. let out an undisguised sneer: "Brother, you're such a good-for-nothing."
The Antiochian knight beside him glanced at young Bohemond with a complicated look in his eyes, stepped forward, supported Raymond's trembling shoulders, and whispered words of encouragement in his ear.
Lyon watched silently from the sidelines: The struggle for the crown prince position has always been so fierce!
Encouraged by the knight, Raymond finally calmed himself, but his bow-drawing movements remained clumsy. The first arrow grazed the edge of the target, and the second barely pierced the outer edge. He dejectedly lowered his shortbow, sheepishly retreating, beads of sweat forming on his forehead: "The wind... the wind is a bit strong."
Raymond was somewhat dejected by the archery defeat, but he wasn't one to compete, and was about to quietly step aside. However, his younger brother, Bohemond Jr., grabbed his shoulder, his voice loud enough for the whole arena to hear:
"Brother! Why worry about those few arrows? Everyone knows that in the Antioch training grounds, your swordsmanship is the best among us brothers! Your composed stance is admired even by Father's knights."
He turned to Lyon, a warm but slightly exaggerated smile plastered on his face. "Your Highness Lyon, you absolutely must witness my brother's swordsmanship! That's what true knightly skill looks like!"
Lyon nodded perfunctorily, inwardly grumbling, "Sigh, this whole saga of the heir apparent's struggle, this whole 'flattery' thing..."
Raymond instinctively tried to refuse, but his younger brother held him firmly down. Without a word, Bohemond shoved a wooden sword into his hand and picked up another one for himself.
It seems this "brotherly" sparring match is inevitable.
The two men assumed their stances. Raymond, being the eldest son, was taller and stronger than his younger brother. He could have used his strength to launch a preemptive strike, but he instinctively adopted a conventional stance—which, in Lyon's eyes, resembled the "plow" stance of a German sword. He held the wooden sword in front of his chest, the tip pointing diagonally upwards, aimed at Bohemond's face, his posture steady and his center of gravity low.
Bohemond Jr., on the other hand, adopted a more provocative starting stance similar to the German sword "Bull Stance".
His sword hilt was above his head, the tip pointing directly at Raymond. He moved with light, nimble steps, searching for an angle to attack, like a cheetah poised to pounce.
"Take this!" Bohemond shouted, launching the first attack. His fighting style was aggressive, his steps were swift, and his wooden sword whistled through the air as he unleashed several rapid vertical slashes, aiming directly at Raymond's head and shoulders.
This fighting style is imposing, but his excessive pursuit of power and speed causes his center of gravity to shift too far forward, leaving a brief opening in his chest and abdomen after each full-force strike.
Raymond, on the other hand, demonstrated solid fundamental skills. Instead of directly confronting his brother's fierce attacks, he used skillful footwork, combined with blocking and parrying, to steadily move to the side and rear. At the last second, he could use the middle of his wooden sword to deflect his brother's attacks to the side, causing his brother's fierce attacks to fail time and time again.
On several occasions, Raymond even seized upon the openings left by Bohemond's fierce attacks and launched effective counterattacks, the tip of his wooden sword nearly striking his brother's chest, drawing murmurs of cheers from the onlookers, especially the Antiochian knight.
Unable to gain the upper hand after a prolonged assault, young Bohemond grew increasingly embarrassed. A glint of malice flashed in his eyes as he decided to abandon reliance solely on swordsmanship. He launched another attack, this time his wooden sword seemingly parried by Raymond due to excessive force, leaving his entire right side wide open.
The naive Raymond fell for the trap, thinking he had seized the decisive opportunity. He stepped forward and thrust his wooden sword straight at his brother's exposed right rib.
However, the moment he shifted his weight forward, Bohemond Jr. used his core strength to quickly recover from the opening he had deliberately created, and his body spun rapidly counterclockwise around his left foot, unleashing a dangerous reverse slash.
As he spun, his left hand secretly reached for Raymond's sword-wielding wrist.
With a sharp crack, Bohemond's wooden sword evaded Raymond's defense and struck Raymond's outside thigh. At the same time, his concealed hand movements also disrupted Raymond's balance.
Raymond winced in pain, letting out a muffled groan, and knelt on one knee. He looked up, his eyes filled with disbelief and anger at being deceived, but even more so with confusion.
He simply couldn't understand why his younger brother would use such insidious moves during a sparring match.
Bohemond Jr. quickly retreated, raising his wooden sword as if he had won honorably, and smugly surveyed his surroundings, his gaze lingering particularly long on Isabella's face: "You flatter me, brother! Your defense was indeed tight, but you were still a bit too hasty!"