A few days later, the regiment went out on maneuvers.
Their send-off was accompanied by all sorts of pomp: as was customary, the maneuvers were preceded by a parade. Almost the entire population of Kavarren gathered on the embankments; moreover, the heads of the esteemed families appeared with miniature banners of their Houses, and their drawn swords, held up like the batons of bandleaders, served as banner poles. The mayor was robed in a mantle embroidered with heraldic animals. Boys whose names had been entered into the roster of the regiment but who had not yet reached manhood were formed into a column and marched back and forth several times. A fifteen-year-old youth marched at the head of the column while a three-year-old lad in a little uniform with a wooden knife stuck in his belt brought up the hind end. The difference in the length of the strides of these future guards was obvious; the tiny lad was panting heavily, and he foundered a number of times, getting tangled in his baldric. However, he never cried; he was well aware of the honor he had been favored with today.
Finally, the heroes of the day appeared. Led by their captain, the guards solemnly trotted along the street, each on his own sleek, well-groomed horse, and in the right hand of each was his sword, held up in salutation. Bold girls from the crowd jumped out toward the nearest horses, throwing crowns of violets onto the blades of the guards: each of these wreaths signified a girl’s tender, friendly feeling for a guard. The majority of these wreaths fell to the captain, as was proper, but Egert, who was looking pale and not very healthy this morning, also received many. Throwing flowers and flinging up their hats, the crowd spun around them; they accompanied the guards as if the regiment were going to war, even though each knew that after three days it would quietly return, whole and unharmed, to the town.
The citizens remained to celebrate, but the guards passed through the city gates and set out on the high road toward the place where a military encampment had been prepared the week before.
Spring was finally displaying its true glory. Egert sat in his saddle with his back hunched, not at all heartened by the delightful, sunny landscape that stretched out to the right and left of the road. He had spent the night before without sleep; well before midnight, he had been visited by the usual nightmare. Replacing candles in the candelabra as they burned down, he had waited for dawn. The parade did not lift his spirits as expected, but instead brought a new shock: Egert discovered that the very sight of a drawn sword was exceedingly objectionable to him. Glorious Heaven! The sight of a naked blade, which always caresses the hearts of swordsmen and duelists alike, no longer called up sweet thoughts of glory and victory. Gazing at the tapered steel, Egert was stunned; he now thought only of lacerated skin, of exposed bone, of blood, and of pain, after which death would close in.
His comrades-in-arms looked askance at him; the official story was that he was grievously in love. His comrades discussed the possible objects of this unfortunate passion, and most of the more astute assumed that the cold and splendid Toria, fiancée of the slain student, had captured the heart of the lieutenant. Only Karver took no part at all in these discussions; he merely observed silently from a distance.
Turning away from the road, they galloped to the edge of a deep gully; clods of earth showered down into the chasm from under the hooves of the horses. The captain hollered out a command. Egert flinched, catching sight of a log, polished so there was not a single knot, that extended from one edge of the ravine to the other.
Once, on a dare, Egert had danced in the very middle of this beam, directly over the deepest part of the ravine. Every time Egert’s feet had trod on the smooth, slippery surface, his soul had been transfixed by an all-encompassing rapture at the proximity of danger and an awareness of his own courage. Not satisfied with this risk alone, he compelled others to risk themselves; using his power as a lieutenant and the magical impact of the word coward, he arranged a fight on the log. Someone had slipped, fallen to the bottom of the ravine, and broken his leg. Egert did not remember the name of that poor bastard, but from that time on, the man did not walk very well and had to be forced from the regiment.
Egert recalled all this in the second it took for the guards to dismount next to the log at the command of the captain.
They formed a line. The captain put the youngest, most inexperienced guards to the side, and Lieutenant Dron, who had been declared the instructor of the youths, proceeded to explain to them the essence of the test with an air of importance. Meanwhile the captain, not wishing to lose a single minute, commanded the others to begin.
The requirement was simple: Cross to the far side and wait there for the others. The young sword-bearers, who had been brought on maneuvers expressly for such small services, were to lead the horses back to the camp. Egert numbly handed his reins to an adolescent who was gazing up at him in adoration.
In strict order, one after the other, the guards overcame the obstacle, some with bravado, some with badly concealed nervousness, some running, some with anxious, mincing steps. Egert brought up the rear of the column, watching as the boots of his comrades intrepidly trampled the smooth trunk of the log. He tried with all his might to figure out where this clammy feeling in his chest and this painful weakness in his knees came from.
Having never before experienced real terror in the face of danger, Egert did not immediately understand that he was simply afraid, so intensely afraid that his legs became weak and his stomach cramped painfully.
The line of guards on the near side of the ravine slowly diminished. The youths who had passed though the ordeal for the first time thronged joyfully on the opposite side, yelling encouragement to those who were treading on the beam. Egert’s turn got closer. The squires, who had long since fulfilled their duty of stabling the horses, had returned; they now waited for the rare opportunity of seeing a new feat of Lieutenant Soll.
Karver, who was last in line before Egert, stepped out onto the log. At first he walked carelessly, even flippantly, but somewhere near the middle, he missed a step and, nervously throwing his arms out to the side, finished his passage. The former Egert Soll would not have let this opportunity to whistle condescendingly at his friend’s back pass, but this Egert, who was now expected to step out onto the log, could only take a deep breath.
All the guards were drawn up on the opposite bank, and all, to a man, were watching Egert inquisitively.
He forced himself to step forward. Dear Heaven, why are my knees shaking so!
His boot was planted unsteadily on the very edge of the beam. It was impossible to cross over to the opposite side. The beam was smooth; his legs would certainly slip off it; in the best-case scenario, Egert would falter, but in the worst case …
They were all waiting. The beginning of Egert’s stunt was already quite unusual.
Licking his dry lips, he took a step and staggered, waving his hands in the air. On the far side, they laughed, assuming that he was adroitly feigning clumsiness.
He took yet another half step and caught a clear glimpse of the floor of the ravine and of the sharp rocks at its bottom, and of his own mutilated body, dashed upon the rocks.
And then, raising melancholy eyes to the path laid out before him over the abyss, he made a decision.
He decided, and he jumped backwards quickly, grasping at his chest with a few theatrical gestures. He jerked as if he were having a convulsion, staggering and deftly jumping down off the log; then he fell to the ground as though dead.
Twitching in a heap of last year’s leaves, Egert feverishly tried to remember the symptoms of the horrible illnesses about which he had once heard: falling sickness, seizures. It would be good if he could froth at the mouth, but his mouth was as dry as an abandoned well. He was just going to have to make up for the lack of symptoms with inconceivably violent convulsions of his body.