03 - God King Read Online Free Page A

days cooped up in a classroom when there were
fights to be gotten into and maidens to pursue.
    Eoforth stood and limped towards Teon’s desk, the cane swishing the air
before him like a threshing scythe.
    “Every day you cheek me, Master Teon,” said Eoforth. “Every day you test my
patience, but I counselled King Bjorn in the time of woes when all around us
threatened to destroy the Unberogen. I stood at his side when the Cherusens and
Taleutens raided our lands. I brokered the peace that first united those tribes
as allies, and I have spoken with the kings and queens of all the great tribes.
I have done all this, and you think you can intimidate me? You are a foolish
young boy with a head as thick as a greenskin skull and the manners of a forest
beast.”
    Teon frowned, unused to being spoken to like this. He was off balance and
Eoforth smiled as he stopped by the boy’s desk.
    Eoforth tapped the cane on the arithmetical problem chalked on the slate
surface of the desk. “Now I am asking you again. What is the answer to the
problem?”
    Teon looked up at him defiantly before spitting on the slate and smearing the
chalk illegible with his sleeve. “A pox on you, old man. I spit on your sums and
letters!”
    “Wrong answer,” said Eoforth, slashing his birch cane down on Teon’s fingers.
    The youngster snatched his hand back with a howl of pain. Tears brimmed on
the curve of his eyes and Eoforth wasn’t proud that he hoped they would spill
out. Some shame and humility would do the boy a world of good. Teon’s face
flushed with anger and he rose to his full height, clutching his hand to his
chest.
    “My father will hear of this,” he spat, heading for the classroom door.
    “Indeed he shall,” said Eoforth. “For I will tell him, and he will give you a
sound beating for disrespecting your elders. Your father knows the value of
discipline, and he would thrash you within an inch of your life were he to see
you behave like this.”
    Eoforth wished that were true. Orvin was as brash and quick to anger as his
son, yet he was a fierce warrior and had ridden with Alfgeir’s knights for ten
years. Though Eoforth did not like the man, he knew of his respect for the
proper order of things. He just hoped his son saw that.
    Teon paused and Eoforth saw the battle raging within him. To lose face by
complying with Eoforth’s demand or to risk a beating from his father. The lad
returned to his seat, though he continued to glare fiercely at Eoforth.
    “Thank you,” said Eoforth, moving between the lines of desks. A dozen boys
and girls filled his classroom, a dusty room within a timber-built schoolhouse
on the southern bank of the River Reik. A hundred children of Reikdorf learned
their numbers and letters here, taught by women he himself had instructed. No
men taught at the school, for the youngsters tended to rebel more against male
teachers, and seemed more reluctant to pick fights with the matronly women
Eoforth had chosen.
    “I know what you are thinking,” he said. “You are thinking that this is a
waste of time, that you would much rather be practising on the Field of Swords,
learning how to fight. The skills of a warrior are important, and every
Unberogen needs to know them. But consider this, without your numbers how will
you know how much beef to carry in your wagons when you go to war? How much
grain and fodder for the horses, and how much extra for the beasts of burden who
pull those wagons? How many swords will you need? How many arrows and what size
of war chest should you bring to pay your soldiers?”
    Eoforth paced the length of his classroom, his limp forgotten as he warmed to
his theme.
    “And what of your orders? How will you read the map to deploy your warriors,
or read the names of the towns your captain has sent you to? Will you be able to
work out how far you must travel or where your evening campsites must be? How
will you send word to your fellow warriors without