Page 10
Laughter soared in the room like bright birdsong. “Ha!” Ewan cried. “Ha!”
Crack! At the sound of wood smacking against wood, Gisela jumped.
“Blocked ye again, ye red-cheeked weakling!” Ada roared. While Gisela pressed the door closed with her palm, Ewan darted into view, his gaze fixed on his opponent and his cheeks flushed with excitement. His dark blond hair, unruly at the best of times, looked completely wild.
In his right hand, he held a small wooden sword. Cornflower blue cloth, the scrap of silk Gisela had saved after cutting out some commissioned garments, was wrapped around the weapon’s grip. She’d tied on the silk with great ceremony the other day—when she’d played the worried lady giving a good-luck token to Sir Ewan the Bold, moments before he’d marched off to defeat the kitchen chair in battle.
Still unnoticed, she leaned back against the door, the bread secured under her arm. A wistful smile tugged at her mouth. A poignant ache coursed through her, for in that moment, she realized his father’s hair had likely been that same hue when he was a child. He’d probably dueled with toy swords, too, with equal fervor.
Ewan growled like a grumpy cat and lashed out with his sword.
“Missed!” Ada stomped into view, her plump hand dwarfing the grip of another wooden sword. Her long black braid, streaked with gray, swished from side to side, while her broad face glistened with sweat. “’Tis thrice ye have missed me, little knight. How will ye save damsels and slay dragons?”
On the last triumphant word, Ewan jumped forward and poked her apron-covered belly.
“Oof!” Frowning, she said, “I shall get ye for that. I shall make ye quake in your boots, ye naughty little—” As though suddenly becoming aware of Gisela’s presence, the woman straightened. Sweeping a hand over her girth, she blushed. “Um… ’allo.”
Ewan’s head swiveled. “Mama!” His face broke into a grin and he ran to her.
She knelt on the dirt floor, catching him in a one-armed hug. Closing her eyes, she savored his snug, return embrace. “My, what a fierce fighter you are,” she said.
He drew back, his eyes sparkling. “Truly, Mama?”
She winked. “Indeed.”
Raising his eyebrows, he looked over at Ada. “Can we fight again? Please?”
Wiping her forehead with the corner of the apron, Ada chuckled. “’Tis time for ye ta sup, young knight.”
“Aw! But—”
“Ada is right. If you eat now, you will be refreshed for more battles.”
Ewan pouted. He swung his sword from side to side. “I am not tired. Or hungry.”
Gisela smiled over at Ada. “You must not miss this special feast, given to honor the young knights. That would be a shame.”
Looking up at her, Ewan said, “What is served at this special feast?”
Gisela placed a gentle hand upon his shoulder and steered him toward the battered kitchen table. “The finest cabbage pottage in the land.”
Ewan grimaced. “Ugh. Pottage is—”
“—excellent for building a knight’s strength,” Ada said, bending over the iron pot steaming over the fire.
“Especially when served with bread.” Gisela set the loaf on the table, then tore off a chunk with her fingers. She offered it to Ewan.
He shook his head. Grumbling under his breath, he slumped down on the bench drawn up to the table. His sword landed on the wood with a thud.
“Now, now, Button.” Gisela patted his arm.
Bracing his elbows on the table, he scowled. “But, Mama—”
“’Tis better than going hungry.” She handed him the bread again. “There are children in this village who go to bed at night with naught in their bellies.”
Ignoring her outstretched hand, his thoughtful brown eyes gazed up at her. “Have you ever gone hungry?”
Anguish shivered through Gisela. “I have.”
