Mairi spun around, hands on her small hips and her chin jutting out. “If he did not support us, if he did not support me, then I know Lyall would! And my brother is not too young!” She stood there so fiercely, and she must have realized what she had done and said, that all were looking at her in horror. She covered her red face with her hands and suddenly broke down sobbing. “He is not too young… He is not!”
The utter silence continued in the hall, until it was pierced by the scraping sound of Ramsey’s chair legs on the stone floor. Lyall heard his mother gasp pitifully. Her eyes met his, so fearful for Mairi, for all knew his sister had gone too far in her defense of him.
A quiet swell of murmurs came from around the tables, and from the dancers and musicians who had been standing so quietly behind him. Lyall quickly put himself between the baron and his sister as protection, before he took a quick glance at his mother as if to assure her ‘I will not let anyone hurt Mairi.’
With his eyes and face he tried to say to her,I will take the blow.He stood taller than he felt inside, waiting for the baron to come closer and fully ready to be struck down before all andsundry. He told himself it was only a blow and the pain from a blow was swift and would go away.
Ramsey was a tall and powerful man, and his form blocked the flickering rush light and cast a dark shadow over Lyall.
He waited.
Then the baron was there before him, so close. Lyall looked up at him. “Stand aside, lad,” he said in a voice that told Lyall naught of what the man intended
“I will not.” Lyall stepped back, his arms keeping Mairi close to his back. “You can punish me, but not my sister.” He gave Ramsey a direct look. “Strike me, my lord.”
Ramsey frowned, and then studied him again. “Odd isn’t it that you never show me fear, lad, even when yours is the first annoyingly eager face I see every morn. You are my constant shadow and pester me worse than a fishwife, day in and day out you are there.” Ramsey drove his hand through his thick dark hair, looked at Mairi and then at Lyall again. “Perhaps I should strike you.”
Lyall did not move. “I would suggest that if you want to hit me, you do so on the practice field, my lord. Should you make me a squire, you will have the opportunity to beat me soundly every day.”
Lyall’s words registered and Ramsey burst out laughing, loud and hard, then he placed his hand on Lyall’s shoulder exactly the way his father always had. Lyall looked up at him surprised.
“Are you saying lad that if I make you squire you will learn the skills so poorly that I will be able to beat you every day?”
Lyall began to stammer.
“Cease! Cease before you ruin the moment. I was jesting.” Ramsey held up the towel in his other hand. “See this? I had no intention of hitting Mairi. She is a brave girl to stand up for you.”
He could feel Mairi’s head peek out from behind him.
Ramsey squatted down and handed her the towel. “Here, child. Dry your tears. You spoke well for your brother. Whatgreat loyalty you have shown this night. I did not know the whole of your story, nor of Lyall’s brave actions. I am suitably impressed…with both of you,” Ramsey said and he straightened and it was a long moment before he said, “Ewane would be proud.”
It was the first time Lyall had heard his father’s name from the baron. He closed his eyes, certain if he did not he would shame himself and ruin everything by crying.
“I will give you a sennight to learn to use a weapon proficiently. You will work every day, all day, until you are so skilled you will convince me that you are not too young to be my body squire.”
He had done it! He had done it! Lyall picked up Mairi and twirled her, planting a big kiss on her flushed cheek. “Thank you,” he told her.
“You are not too young, Lyall,” she said fiercely, hugging him back.
A murmur went through the hall. It was unheard of for anyone to be made a squire at ten and one, and Ramsey’s terms had sounded as if Lyall would be body squire, those who trained with and were closest to the baron.
Ramsey crossed his arms. “Tell me, lad, what weapon you choose.”
“The bow.” Lyall answered immediately.
Some knights laughed quietly among themselves, thinking he had just failed and showed himself as completely unqualified.
“Archery? What foolishness is this?” Ramsey frowned, looking angry for the first time. “Knights do not practice archery.”
“But my lord,” Lyall insisted. “That is all the more reason I should choose it. The Welsh use the bow with great success, oft times against us. When I am a squire, I will learn to use the sword and battle axe, to wrestle and fight hand to hand in combat, to ride and use the lance as well as my sword and other weapons. A bow and a quiver of arrows merely gives me onemore weapon than most, perhaps the same weapon used by an future enemy. Have I made an error? Is there shame in using the bow?”
“Nay,” Ramsey said. “ ‘Twas not what I expected is all.”
“You only said I must be proficient in a single sennight at the weapon I choose. You did not give me a choice of weapons from which I must choose.”
Already Ramsey was shaking his head and chuckling, making it clear he knew he had been played. “You are sharp beyond your years, lad.”
“Nay, but I am confident I can shoot an arrow most accurately seven days from now,” he said without one bit of humility.
