Page 84 of Peregrine's Call
“You have to send someone out to check!” Robin had no business telling Angelet what to do, and yet she couldn’t stop herself.
“So I have done,” Angelet replied, unruffled. “I sent a rider toward the bridge this morning, and God willing, we’ll hear something soon.”
Her calm air made Robin feel even more brittle. “Aren’t you worried?” she asked.
“Of course I’m worried, but I can only do what I can do. In the meantime, I have my duties to attend to.” She gave Robin a little crooked smile. “And you will need a distraction to make it through the day. Why not break your fast and then go to the south meadow? The boys are training there, and it’s always lively enough to occupy a person for a while.”
Robin recognized the implicit command and bent her head. “I will do so, my lady.”
“I will send word to you the moment anything is known.” Angelet squeezed her arm. “Have faith.”
Robin nodded. After eating a simple meal of bread and butter, with small ale to drink, she put on her cloak and gloves and took her bow to the south meadow.
Along the way, she passed through the courtyard and out of the main gates. Guards watched from the top of the gate tower, and another guard nodded politely as she passed by.
Outside the castle walls, Robin followed the faint sound of clashing metal until the din grew louder and she saw several pairs of fighters sparring in a large field. Instructions and warnings floated out over the air. When someone stumbled, the other helped him up and began the fight anew. A couple of grizzled instructors—men who’d survived more war than these boys could imagine—walked through the field, surveying each miniature battle with practiced eyes. They stopped to offer a critique in one spot or to demonstrate a sequence of moves in another.
One of the instructors reached the end of the field where Robin stood. She recognized him as Adam, who’d come to Martenkeep shortly after Sir Rafe was placed in charge.
“Good day, Lady Robin,” Adam said with a bow made stiff due to an old riding injury. “I suspect the boys are in for a drubbing when we haul out the archery targets.”
She smiled, trying to keep her mind on the topic. “It seems that they are fully committed to swordplay this morning.”
He waved a hand, as if sweeping the notion away. “These whelps aren’t strong enough to keep up such practice for more than a few hours. They’ve got to grow into it, and that’ll take years. ’Cept for Torin, that is,” he amended, looking at the tall blond boy sweating on the field. “He’ll be ready by spring. And with Sir Rafe to oversee his training, I suspect that Torin might be a legend in his time.”
“How’s he at shooting?” Robin asked, hefting her bow slightly.
Adam snorted. “Not a legend. For archery, it’s Acer you’ll want to watch out for. Little scourge.”
Robin watched the boy called Acer. He seemed as quick and obedient as the others practicing, but she caught a hint of displeasure in Adam’s tone. “You don’t like him.”
“Ah, I like him well enough. He’s a bright boy. But he’s the son of one of the rebel barons to the north, and sons take after their fathers. Acer’s always got a look in his eye, the sort of look a wolf gives to a lamb. He might notdoanything evil, for he’s still young. But mark my words, he’s from bad stock.”
“Perhaps he just needs time,” Robin murmured. “Rafe was thought to be from bad stock for most of his life, and now he’s one of the king’s trusted castellans.”
“Well, the saints do work miracles,” Adam said. Then he whistled, drawing everyone’s attention. “Put the swords away! Let’s get those targets out. Time to show the lady how archery is done at Martenkeep.”
Considering her inner turmoil, Robin had more fun than she expected to. There was something pleasantly distracting about having multiple people constantly piping up around her, vying for attention and always asking something.
Torin was blond, big, and brash, clearly the one destined for a life as a fighter, and most likely a knight. Guy was Torin’s opposite—slim and thoughtful, with a mop of dark hair and skin almost olive in complexion. Acer was polite and clever and had an answer for everything. Robin liked him in spite of Adam’s dire predictions about his fate. And finally, the youngest boy, Henry, who happened to be Angelet’s son from her first marriage, rounded out the group. He seemed constantly wide-eyed, and clearly idolized the older boys around him.
Robin challenged all of them to ever more difficult feats of archery. Torin and Acer ran to push the targets back each time, and the boys were impressed by her shooting. Robin had just let an arrow fly when she caught sight of something odd. She turned her head and saw none other than Pierce walking toward an outbuilding near the trees.
“Now where’s he going?” Robin muttered.
Acer followed her gaze, but Pierce had disappeared behind a building wall. “Who, my lady?”
“Lord Pierce, over there by the storehouse. He’s got no business poking around Martenkeep. I wonder what he’s up to.”
“Want some reconnaissance, my lady?” Guy asked, his eyes bright.
She smiled. “What a good suggestion, Guy. Let’s have a lesson in scouting, shall we? Acer, Guy, find out what he’s up to. Follow him, but stay back anddon’tinterfere unless he tries to leave the area of Martenkeep altogether. Then report back to me. I’ll stay here with Torin and Henry and keep practicing.”
The two boys ran off. Henry looked relieved at not being expected to go, but Torin frowned.
“I could have spied, you know,” Torin said.
“I’m sure you could have,” Robin replied, nocking another arrow. “But Lord Pierce might notice a whole practice field gone silent. You and Henry are helping preserve the illusion that we didn’t notice him. That part is just as important as what the actual scout does.”
