Post by The Stranger on May 20, 2008 17:33:35 GMT -5
Benfry sat in his solar, as took a sip of tea as he read the wedding festivities proclamation. He was able to follow it on his own for the most part, without the aid of a maester, thanks to his reading lessons. He hoped all these events did not bankrupt the realm and made a mental note to speak with the Master of Coin regarding the Kingdom’s finances.
Then Benfry remembered a conversation with Sara Lannister, in which she had told him, “House Lannister will share half the expenses of the wedding, or take on a little more. It is important that we show the realm the power and wealth of Casterly Rock and Storm’s End.”
The wedding proclamation certainly showed that, Benfry noticed. As he went down the list, a strange term caught his eye.
“Tent-pegging?” he said quizzically “Brynden, do you know what this is?” pointing at the relevant item on the parchment. Brynden leaned forward and read over his shoulder.
“Yes, my lord. It’s a cavalry sport, much like jousting. Tent pegging is when you’re on horseback and you use a lance to pick up markers on the ground.” When Benfry continued to look at him blankly, Brynden suppressed a sigh. “It’s probably best if I show you.”
Benfry finished reading the announcement while Brynden went downstairs to prepare their equipment and mounts. Benfry entered the stable and looked askance at the packed mule with lances and oddly marked pegs on 2’ poles loaded on its back, but mounted his bay destrier without comment. Brynden held his stirrup and reins as Benfry mounted, and the Brynden mounted his chestnut colt. They rode out from the city and up the Blackwater Rush.
Once away from the city and in a relatively open and flat land clear of the road, Brynden dismounted and took the marked pegs from the mule. He paced out some distances and every 25 steps or so he thrust the steel peg into ground so that its oval head stuck up about 1’ from the ground. In short order there were 10 of these pegs sticking just above the ground, much to Benfry’s bemusement.
“What are we supposed to do with these?” he asked Brynden
“Just watch,” he replied, grinning at Benfry before mounting his chestnut and grabbing a lance. He trotted off to the far end of the field, before wheeling round and cantering towards the row of pegs. There was a look of immense concentration on his face. He had to control his horse with one hand and hold his line, while leveling the lance with the other hand. The canter went faster and faster, and then Brynden leaned forward and sent the colt into a carefully controlled gallop, measuring his speed.
He leaned slightly down and to one side of his horse, rather than the usual joust position, and carefully aimed his lance. Brynden’s weight was transferred to his knees and stirrup irons, without the saddle to support him as he leaned out. With a loud crack, the lance struck the centre of the oval head of the first peg, nearly dragging it from the ground. As the lance reached the top of its rearward arc, Brynden regained his seat. He slowed, turned and cantered across to Benfry.
“That is tent-pegging,” he said with a grin as he dropped the lance and dismounted. “You’re judged on three things: the peg, the horsemanship, and the position at strike.
“If you catch the peg but either can’t lift it out of the ground, or lose grip of your lance, or break your lance, you lose points.
“The horsemanship is important too. With regular jousting, your horse is always in a canter. In tent pegging, you need to be able to send your horse into a gallop. The speed makes everything harder. You have to hold your horse in a steady, straight line and maintain absolutely precise timing when you lower your lance to catch the peg. The speed and struggle to control the horse and lance makes it easier to lose grip of the lance when you hit the peg, or for your horse to lose balance and fall. It’s happened before.
“The last criteria is the position at strike. You can’t struggle with the lance, you have to come out of your saddle and lean down at precisely the right moment, thrust the lance forward aggressively. It should be lowered in a smooth arc, the point should strike the peg at the bottom of the arc just above ground level, and the peg should be taken just to the right of the horse’s off foreleg. Your hand needs to be just in front of your right boot on impact.”
Brynden grinned and brought Benfry’s destrier forward, holding the stirrup for him. “Care to give it a go, my lord? Best you try for the first time now rather than at the tourney.”
Benfry rather hesitantly nodded before preparing himself. He was not that proficient a rider or lancer but it seemed to be a form of jousting, and did not seem so bad. He mounted his bay.
Brynden replaced the peg in the ground and waved readiness as Benfry reached the starting point. Brynden back away and Benfry began to charge towards the target, moving into a gallop as he found a steady line, lowering his lance to guide it to the small target. Suddenly, about 2 feet ahead of his target, the lance point struck the earth and dug in. The jarring force of the sudden and unexpected impact jolted Benfry as the lance bent and he sprung forward out of the saddle with a loud yell as he was catapulted from his steed. He crashed to the ground about 10 paces ahead of the target, dazed and shaken. Brynden gasped and then burst into peals of laughter as he saw Benfry stagger to his feet. Benfry wrenched off his helm as he sucked in air and shook his head to clear the dizziness. He turned to see Brynden doubled over and nearly in tears as he laughed hysterically. “You breathe a word of this, lad, and I’ll have you mucking out the Red Keep’s stables till the Others come,” he growled.
“Yes, my lord,” Brynden choked.
He stumbled up to his snorting bay and remounted. After a few more moments, Brynden’s laughter ebbed to an end and he wiped his eyes clear of tears as he came up to Benfry, still chuckling.
“You…you held the lance too low, you should try and strike from the side, not the top” he chortled as he gripped Benfry’s hand and moved it further down the lance and held his arm out down and to the side.
“It feels unnatural” grumbled Benfry as he leaned to one side to support the shift in weight.
“It’s just another point of attack, that’s all. You’re used to fighting mounted foes or standing foes. What if your enemy ducks down as you charge, or tries to roll out of the way. That’s where this technique comes in handy” Brynden grinned, enjoying the change of roles with him as the teacher. “Let me show one more time.”
So Benfry watched as the lad mounted his sprightly chestnut colt, taking his lance and charging smoothly again, his face full of concentration. He sat the colt gracefully as it slid into a fast gallop, lowering his slender lance with tightly monitored precision as the peg came rushing up. He leaned out of the saddle, lowered the lance, knocked the peg smartly and brought the lance back up as he slowed the chestnut to a canter. When he rode up to Benfry, Benfry could see that the boy was sweating profusely. It was harder and took more focus than it initially looked.
“All right, ser,” Brynden panted, drinking from his waterskin and rubbing his colt’s neck. “Your turn again.”
Benfry managed not to plunge his lance into the dirt on his second run, but still managed to miss the peg. It was not until his third or fourth run that he finally struck a glancing blow on one of the pegs.
They continued on for another few hours until both were bone-weary & aching but at least Benfry felt that he would not disgrace himself in the event and was thoroughly glad that he’d been unhorsed in private rather than to the roaring laughter from the commons.
Result:
Benfry improves to Noteworthy Lance
Benfry improves to Noteworthy Horse-riding
Brynden works to Expert Lance
Brynden works towards Master Horseriding