Breastplate of Righteousness

What dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?

Was it the total picture or each of the parts coming into focus that burned itself into the gray matter of my head? The leather clad helmet of battle and the chains that secured it resting inside, the seepage of a wound and mottled stains on the rep the slave carried? The image of the jerkin that fit closely benath all of the warrior's gear or picturing the mount that failed him now laying slain for it's failures?

My invasion of the scene was with a yelp of triumph and the long winded prattle, unleashing the excitement of an accomplishment. I did it! Jaella was there speaking with him of a leather vest she had made for him. Whether it was protective covering to ward off cold, as more padding beneath his coat to defend against a lance or ceremonial dress for his position as Ubar, she was offering him something that was for his benefit and I interupted it all.

It hits me hard now thinking back of how I could have sat there so bursting at the seams proud of having merely gotten Sinewy to accept the blanket while the man rinsed away blood from his injuries ... of how he sat talking with me of my small triumph as if I had conquered the world. One of his kaiila had not turned quick enough to keep him from being injured during a battle. It didn't make any difference if it were a practice spar or the heights of all out war. It had not held to the potential that could have been the thin line between his rider's life or death.

I knew even before he spoke of what had become of the animal, I knew I was about to tread dangerously into the realm of war beasts, of men and death bringers. I offered to help train him. It was too late. There was no remorse in hearing of the demise of the kaiila, the loss was felt more in knowing that the training of the kaiila had failed more than the animal itself. If it were not capable of upholding and defending a warrior during combat then it should never have been saddled as a mount for a commander.

He offered a gift that still startles me in the weight of its responsibility. There were going to be two new foals to train within Fonce's herd. If I made it into the clan then he would like me to train them. There were two things I told him then and there. First that I would consider that a great honor and secondly .. there was no 'if'. I will continue to work hard until I am accepted.

His words echo, 'I will not have a kaiila that cannot dodge a lance .. it is worthless to me'. The safety and well being of as many of the Tuchuk warriors that rode a kaiila lay in the hands of the kaiila clan. In time his safety and well being could depend in part on how well I handled those beasts. I understood the serious far nore now.