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Joey's Big Day
On the man who has everything
Joey turned his face to the clear sky, squinting into the light.
“Nice day,” he said, to no one. He dropped his gaze to where his sergeant stood opposite him, hand resting on his hilt.
The old man grunted, his lined face betraying nothing.
Joey cleared his throat. “A nicer day than this I’ve never seen,” he went on, digging in his pocket, pulling out a dull penny.
The sergeant nodded slowly. “Sun’s out,” was all he said.
Joey took the penny and shined it against the grime of his coat, making it only slightly dirtier. “Me? Bit of sun is all I need. Never wanted for nothing fancy.” He tucked the penny back into his pocket, patting it ostentatiously. “Though since I’ve come of age, I’ve become partial to a bit of fine company, if you take my meaning, sir.”
He winked. The sergeant exhaled heavily, solemnly pulling his sword from his belt. Joey eyed it, feeling the pit in his stomach deepen.
“No, no, not for me,” he gabbled. “I’m a simple man. Never wanted no big house, no flashy career. Only the warm sun on my face and I’m a happy man, sir.” He tried not to focus on the stain near the tip of the man’s blade. He was better known for his cutlass work, but in the name of sportsmanship those, thankfully, had not been permitted.
The sergeant made no answer, but put one foot back firmly and held his sword at the ready, nodding at his opponent, indicating he should do the same. Impatient mumbling rose from behind the sergeant, eager to see the young upstart bleeding on the ground, preferably in sufficient agony to prevent further philosophical reflection.
Joey pulled his blade finally from its sheath, noting how dull the edge still was. He chuckled nervously. “Could use a sharpening, eh Sarge?”
The old man ignored him and he ill-advisedly took that moment to glance back at his comrades lined up behind him, swords firmly in their belts. He caught the eye of his bunkmate, who shifted his gaze, pity in his eyes. His anger flared.
Glad it’s not you, he thought. Glad it’s not you standing here, hoping he’ll make it quick. Glad it’s not –
The air whooshed and he jumped out of the way just in time to miss his opponent’s first swing. He didn’t have long. Sarge swung up again on his recovery and, out of pure surprise, he brought up his sword to counter with a loud clang.
They actually did clang, he thought. He surged forward, pushing the sergeant’s sword away with his. Behind him, he heard a single, hopeful cheer that was quickly silenced.
Buoyed by his defense, he charged, and the sergeant turned his sword easily, sending him stumbling to the edge of the circle. He struggled to find his feet and looked up to see Sarge striding forward, an impatient glint in his eye. His knees finally gave way and panicking, he brought up the point of his sword and closed his eyes, waiting for the final blow and –
It never came. Joey opened his eyes to see the sergeant’s stunned face inches from his own. The two of them looked down, open-mouthed, to see his own dull sword stuck under the sergeant’s ribcage. He pulled out his blade, scrabbling back to let the sergeant collapse face first onto the ground, where he lay very still.
A moment, then…
A deafening, wordless roar rose behind him on the ground, too stunned to move, and he would have stayed there had the corporal not rushed forward and hurriedly pulled him up to thrust his arm into the air.
“The victor!” he shouted, barely audible above the crowd and he could feel the roar this time, another wave that threatened to knock both him and the corporal on their faces next to the sergeant.
His knees threatened to buckle again, but the corporal did not let him go.
“Not yet, lad,” he said in the boy’s ear, beneath the roar. “Later. But not yet.”
Joey nodded. His eyes rose to to the troops lined up on the other side, staring in shocked silence. The officers sat very still upon their horses, their faces ashen.
His gaze dropped to the back of Sarge’s head. His helmet had shifted with the fall, revealing a ring of thinning hair. A pool of red spread steadily across the hard dirt from under his belly.
Joey stared at it, his arm still wrenched above his head, though he could barely feel it.
I didn’t know there would be so much.
He choked down the sick in his throat as the corporal dragged him away to the other privates, still roaring like madmen.
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