3

As soon as Rene turned twelve, Claude sent him to study in a regular company.

Rene liked military affairs. Schoolchildren were taught to handle weapons, keep order, and march. In addition to directly military disciplines, the curriculum included athletics, elementary counting, grammar, religion, the history of the crusades and other military campaigns, as well as alchemy and pharmacy.

As much as Rene liked his studies, his new comrades did not like him just as much. Most of them came from the lowest strata of society, their conversations were too rude, and their laughter too loud. The ringleader among them was Jacques Tillon, a tall guy a head taller than the rest, with perpetually greasy hair and the same greasy jokes. Rene tried to avoid him.

***

Jacques' father, Patrick Tillon, was a laborer on the docks of the Seine, a bitter drunk who regularly beat his wife and son. In the short life of Jacques, his father did not beat him except with an ax. At first, the boy tried his best to please his father, but it only seemed to make him angry. Reproaches and beatings rained down on Jacques and, in the end, did their job: he hated his father and the whole world. The only person close to me was my mother. She worked as a laundress and washed the whole street, working from dawn until late at night. When Tillon, drunk and angry, came home and attacked his wife and son with his fists, she covered little Jacques with herself as best she could.

Once, after another drinking bout, Patrick was walking home in a particularly gloomy mood: the owner of the docks, the merchant Verdier, promised to kick him out if he did not stop drinking.

- Where is it seen that a person after work and drink was not possible ?! muttered Tillon, leaving the tavern. - Well, nothing, I'll show you! You will remember me, you damned shopkeeper!

Reaching home with difficulty, he pushed open the door and stumbled into the kitchen, where his wife was washing clothes in a huge vat with a wooden roller.

- Did you take the whole room with your tub again? Tillon hissed angrily.

"Go to bed, Patrick," the woman answered quietly.

- What-oh?! he roared. “Are you still in command, you dirty pig?!

He grabbed the roller and moved to his wife.

Jacques, who was sleeping in a closet, was awakened by the terrible cries of his mother. He ran into the kitchen and saw his father, with all his might, beating his fallen wife with a wooden roller.

- Dad!

Tillon threw his son away with one blow, he flew off to the wall and fell silent.

***

Coming to his senses and not seeing his father in the room, Jacques crawled up to the unfortunate woman. She, covered in blood, was lying in a corner, leaning heavily against the wall. He howled, crawled around his mother, stroked her hands, hardened from eternal washing, and, sobbing, begged:

- Wait, wait a little, soon I will grow up and take you away, mom. You just be patient.

Gathering the last of her strength, she opened her eyes with difficulty and smiled gratefully:

- I'll take it, son. Just grow faster.

By morning, the mother was dead.

Immediately after the funeral, Jacques ran away from home. For several years he lived on the street in the company of the homeless and crippled, until a kind monk picked him up and took him to Sergeant Dupe.

- Take him to your school, sergeant. The guy had to go through a lot, let's hope that the Lord will have mercy on him and allow him to become a good person.

But it was too late : anger, resentment and cruelty settled forever in the heart of Jacques Tillon. By the age of thirteen, he firmly learned: the only way to survive is with fists and a stick.

***

In a short time, Rene learned to handle a spear quite tolerably. Sergeant Junot, who taught schoolchildren how to use weapons, was pleased with him. "It's a pity that this guy of low birth," he thought, watching Rene deftly lunge, "he could become a captain or even a marshal."

René often thought of Genevieve, he desperately missed her. Lying at night in the barracks, he recalled how they played together, how once, when she twisted her leg, he carried her in his arms through half the city ... On Sundays, when it was not necessary to spend the night in the barracks, he rushed home to see her . They would go out for a walk for the whole day and, sitting in the shade of the trees, dreamed of how nicely they would live when they finally grew up and got married.

- We will have three children, and we will name them, as our dolls were once called in the game - Francois, Catherine and Clotilde, remember?

- Certainly. But, Rene, wouldn't it be better if there were more kids?

And each time Rene returned to school with a heavy heart: although he liked military science, the boy was sorry to leave Genevieve and it was unpleasant to be near Jacques Tillon and his company. He badly needed a friend.

***

Among the schoolchildren stood out a short blond youth with smooth long hair and pensive gray eyes. His name was Philippe de Leroy. Calm, courteous, with refined manners and speech, in a velvet camisole with a lace collar, Rene immediately liked him. “He, of course, is a nobleman, and he will never want to be friends with the son of a simple glovemaker,” the boy thought bitterly.

However, it turned out differently.

***

Philip was the third, youngest son of the impoverished nobleman Christian de Leroy, vassal of the Count of Angouleme. Philip's two older brothers inherited their father's features, they were tall, broad-shouldered, while Philip himself went to his mother - fair-haired, graceful and sophisticated, like a girl. And although the brothers sometimes laughed good-naturedly at him for this, Philip knew that they sincerely loved him, and paid them the same.

Christian de Leroy did not represent a career for children other than the military. With great difficulty, having collected money for equipment, he sent his two eldest sons to study with the seigneur. There were no longer enough funds for the uniforms needed to be sent to Count Philip, and his father sent him to Paris, for free training in the ordinance company.

In the military school, Philip suffered desperately: there were people around him who were alien to him both in class and in spirit. He differed from them decisively in everything - manners, speech, habits, thoughts. Philip lacked the friendship and support of his brothers, he was achingly longing to return home.

The only person he liked among the schoolchildren was Rene Legrand, and Philip was looking forward to getting to know him. And this opportunity soon presented itself.

***

Once, in the classroom, which was taught by their mentor , Maitre Pierre Goflan, Rene thought about it and did not hear the teacher turn to him.

- Mister Legrand?

René thought of Genevieve, remembering their recent walk.

- Mister Legrand!

The boy jumped up.

- Yes, master.

- Be kind, sir, repeat what I just said - why are large shields pointed downwards?

Naturally, René did not hear a word of what Maitre Gofflan was explaining. He stood, shifting from foot to foot, painfully thinking what to think of.

Philippe de Leroy stood up from his seat behind the mentor's back, and, obviously wanting to suggest the correct answer, made a sharp movement with his hand, as if he was sticking a sword into the ground.

- So what, sir? Did you hear my question?

Philip repeated the same gesture.

- Would you like to answer?

- So that you can stick the shield into the ground, master ... - muttered Rene.

The strict mentor was clearly surprised:

- Right.

***

After classes, Rene approached his savior.

- Thank you, sir.

He smiled and gave a slight bow.

- Well, you, it was easy. My name is Philippe de Leroy.

- Rene. Rene Legrand.

- I know. And I've wanted to meet you for a long time, Rene.

- And I - with you!

From that day on, their friendship began.

***

Although Rene was two years younger than Philip, they found a common language very quickly. Classes were held in the first half of the day, and after lunch, schoolchildren were usually released. Everyone spent their free time as they please, someone stayed in the barracks, someone trained at the military site, and Rene and Philip preferred to rush around the city in search of adventure. And they just loved to chat. Philip talked about his home a few leagues from Angouleme, about his parents and brothers he adored, about the history of his family.

- Our family has been living in those lands for a very long time, more than a hundred years. My great-grandfather also gave the glove to Charles of Valois, then Count of Angouleme.

“I didn’t understand anything,” Rene admitted. Why did he give up his glove?

Philip laughed.

- To hand over the glove means to recognize the vassal power of the lord.

As much as about his family, Philip loved to talk about his father's overlord, the young Count Francis of Angouleme. He could talk about it endlessly.

- Imagine, his father was a cousin of our king, and he himself is engaged to his daughter.

- My father sent my brothers to the count, they will become knights, but for now they are his squires. I saw him once when I went to Angouleme.

“Perhaps one day Francis will be king.

René listened and sighed enviously.

- Great. I would also like to be a nobleman, you have such an interesting life.

“Then you need to marry a noble lady,” Philip laughed.

- Well, I do not! I'm marrying Genevieve.