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Léof didn’t have Javan ride around for too long. He only wanted a feel for the other boy’s abilities, and he was mostly pleased with what he saw. Javan sat Herefola with confidence and Léof could see that he was a fairly accomplished rider, despite his inexperience in stable work. He had noticed, however, some roughness with the reins and a style that was more aggressive than Léof would have liked to see. He could not quite dismiss this, but he told himself that Javan was still young and could likely be taught otherwise. Needing to see no more and ready to go on with the ride, he called Javan back.
He was not prepared for Javan’s sharp remarks: “There. I did it. What’d you think? Am I good enough for you?"
Léof recoiled, stung. “It’s not like that, and you ought to know it. Come on.” He turned Æthel down the way they had been heading earlier, surprisingly bitter thoughts swirling in his mind. It was hard for him too, after all! He wanted to be Javan’s friend, but how did that reconcile with being in charge of him as well? Responsibility had always been his mantra, these last few months more than ever. After all, what would happen to Javan if he were caught breaking the rules? He might get sent away from the Mead Hall to his home, nothing worse. Léof had nowhere to go; he couldn’t afford to break the rules. And if Javan got hurt because of his irresponsibility, the retribution would be even worse. So what was he supposed to do? How ought he to act?
He almost wished he had not brought Javan with him today, that instead he had simply come out here by himself to let Æthel go for as long and hard as she would go, and he was reluctant to offer a race to Javan; that seemed to belong to a camaraderie that had been splinched off. He did not know what to say to Javan that would not seem either appeasing or demanding, so silently he rode on, half-hoping Javan would break the silence and half-hoping he would say nothing at all.
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