Page 14 of King’s Knight

Passing the huge blue and white pavilion raised against the summer sun where ale and honey wine would be served, he strode to where his mother stood at the edge of the crowd gathered to watch the archers, who were just stepping to the line.

“You are not competing?” he inquired.

She shot him a glance before turning back to watch the archers taking their stances. “Rising late, are you?”

“I was talking to Father about the summons I expect he will receive from the king,” he muttered. “You did not answer my question. Will you shoot?”

“Not today. I am more interested in seeing how Merewyn fares. She was my student before she was Rhodri’s. Did you know?”

“Nay, I did not.”

“ ’Twas after you left to squire in Rouen.”

He scanned the line of archers preparing to shoot. Merewyn’s fair hair, golden in the morning sun, was easy to spot where she stood at the line with three male archers. She had never appeared more beautiful even though she was, once again, garbed as the slender Welsh bowman, her hair confined to a single plait.

As one, the archers nocked their arrows, lifted their bows and pulled back the strings. The tension in the crowd was palpable as the archers narrowed their eyes on the target.

“Loose!” shouted an official.

The arrows flew with a great rushing sound. He had heard it often enough on the battlefield to find it familiar.

By the bright fletching of Merewyn’s arrow, Alex saw her arrow had hit the target dead center, as did the arrows of two others, both men.

He waited, knowing they would move the target back another twenty feet.

Father Bernard joined him and his mother. “Good day, my lady,” he said. “ ’Tis good to have you home, Sir Alex.” In his sixth decade, the priest who had taught them all to read, now had a tonsure of white hair. He was one of those priests who had married, but was now a widower, as much loved by the people of Talisand as Maugris.

“ ’Tis good to be back, Father.”

“Have you come to watch the archers?” his mother asked the old priest.

“I have,” he said with a grin. “The skill of the young woman returned from Wales is much spoken of.”

“You will enjoy seeing Merewyn shoot,” said the Lady of Talisand.

“As much as I used to delight in your skill with the bow, my lady?”

Alex was aware of the friendship between the priest who had blessed his parents’ marriage and his mother and had heard them teasing each other before.

“Mayhap more,” his mother said.

As the archers prepared to shoot, Alex, his mother and Father Bernard turned to watch. The arrows were loosed and once the target was examined, only Merewyn and one man’s arrows remained. The target was again moved farther away so that it was now standing amidst the trees.

“ ’Tis a long shot,” he said.

“Merewyn has hit targets farther away than that,” his mother noted in a calm voice.

With a “thwack”, Merewyn’s arrow hit the center of the target. The man’s arrow fell short. The archer offered his hand to her in congratulations as the crowd roared shouts of praise.

“The young woman is, indeed, skilled,” remarked Father Bernard.

Alex nodded in agreement. “I vow she is as good as you, Mother.”

“She is better, Alex. You will see.”

Alex returned his gaze to Merewyn as she handed her bow and arrows to a waiting attendant and swung onto the back of a white pony. She claimed only three arrows from the quiver he held out to her, grasping them in the same hand as her bow. With her free hand, she turned her pony toward the edge of the wide-open area while the servants set up two targets side by side, strips of wood standing like trees.

Knotting the pony’s reins, Merewyn laid them at the base of the horse’s neck. Using only her legs, as he did when commanding his destrier in battle, she trotted the mare forward and then urged the horse into a canter, circling once around the large meadow. With a “Hah!” she and the pony were racing at a full gallop.