“I fear that we are an unfortunate influence on your young charge,” Andreas said when Hans was gone. “He puts himself in danger for a cause that is not his. My heart is heavy with the thought that I might bring pain and suffering to your family.” He raised his mug and examined its content. “Especially in light of your generosity.”
“The lad makes his own choices. Has since his mother died,” the brewmaster explained. “She was my sister, and she died a year before the Mongols came—thank God for that simple blessing—and the lad’s been living—” He chuckled. “Well, he was always welcome in my house, though he visited but once before running off again. Back to the streets he knew. A bit of a wild one, he is, and if you don’t mind my saying so, your attention has had an impact on him. But, I suppose you knights get that all the time, don’t you? The boys do love men in armor. And the swords—”
Andreas gave the man such a stern glance that the brewmaster’s voice died in his throat. The portly man dropped his eyes and fidgeted with his mug. “My apologies, Sir Knight. I meant no harm...”
“None was taken,” Andreas said. “Your ward has become much loved by me and mine, and his aid has strengthened our cause in a way that can never be fully repaid. Though, I wish to try.” He cleared his throat, considered what he wanted to say next, and then raised his mug to his lips. “When this unfortunate business is finished,” he continued after a long drink, “I would like to take Hans with us. I would like to make him my squire. I would protect him, and would pay for his education and training in the Ordo Militum Vindicis Intactae—”
A small noise caught their attention. The edge of the heavy curtain was raised, and Hans was staring at them with bright eyes. His mouth moved, trying to summon words, and after a few feeble attempts, he gave up and launched himself out of the doorway. He impacted Andreas in a tight hug that caught the big man off guard, but he smiled awkwardly and returned the youth’s affectionate embrace. He ruffled Hans’s hair and gently disengaged the boy’s arms. “You’ve done us a great service,” he said, somewhat gruffly. “What I offer is a hard life, and is in no way proper compensation for the risks you have undertaken on our behalf, but it is all that I have to offer you.”
“You... you offer me much,” Hans said shyly, wiping his tear-stained face. “I just tell the other boys where to go, and listen to their messages when they return. They’re the ones taking all the risks...” He looked at his uncle. “I worry about what they face when I send them out, and I am ashamed that I have not gone myself.”
Andreas looked at the boy, seeing him not for the first time with fresh eyes. “Hans, when I asked you to find a way for us to communicate, I knew the dangerous task to which I was assigning you. What you feel is what I have felt—what any commander of men has felt when he has given an order that has sent one of his companions into danger. You must always remember this feeling, and use it to temper your judgment and your compassion, lest you become careless with the lives you hold in your charge. That you can do what you have done—and that you feel what you do—tells me that my order would be honored to have a boy—nay, a man like you in our ranks.” He smiled. “That is, if you would join us...”
Hans raised his eyes, and the fear seemed to ease, at least a little. The guilt remained, but Andreas knew that that would never flee. A part of him felt the same, knowing what the boy would inevitably face, if he took this path. “I won’t let you down,” Hans said after a long moment. “Now, or in the future.” His eyes grew hard and resolute. “I promise.”
Ernust pressed a palm of one hand against an eye and squinted up at the sun. “I wish you’d not begged off on a single drink today, sir,” he said in a proud voice. “I’d like to give you an entire cask. ’Tis truly a moment to celebrate.”
Laying down his mug, Andreas put a hand on the brewer’s shoulder. “I wish I could,” he chuckled. “But we’ve less pleasant business to attend to.”