A Warrior's Heart Page 2

  “And flexible, too,” Sean said with reluctant approval. “But enough playing around.” He tried several times to reach the boy, but the lad was just too quick. A small crowd gathered as the scrawny little one continued to elude the skilled knight, and Roran looked on in interest. After nearly thirty minutes had passed, Sean finally figured out the boy’s patterns. Anticipating his next move, Sean managed to reach out and grab the boy’s wrist and spin him so that his forearm spanned the boy’s neck and his sword was poised above his heart. Sean was panting, but the boy hardly dared to breathe.

  “A worthy and entertaining opponent,” Sean said, releasing him with a slight shove. “But too small for the King’s Guard. Try again in a few years when you have grown into yourself, lad.”

  Sean began to walk back toward Roran, but before he took more than five steps, the boy was on his back, his stick poised at Sean’s throat. Sean immediately stilled.

  Roran applauded, more entertained than he had been in years. “Come here, lad,” he commanded. The boy dropped gracefully from Sean’s back and walked slowly over to where Roran sat. Ignoring the astonished stares of those who had gathered to watch, he kept his head down and his shoulders back.

  Roran had never seen anyone get the best of Sean. Certainly not some little scrapper that wouldn’t make seven stone soaking wet. He looked at the boy now standing in front of him. Up close, he was even smaller than Roran first thought.

  “Take off your hat, then, and let’s have a look at you.”

  Ever so slowly, the boy’s hand raised and pulled off the wide-brimmed hat that had concealed his face. An untidy shock of dirty black hair was revealed, sticking out at all angles and looking as if someone had taken a hatchet to it. His face carried the same dirt as everyone else’s, but even more layers of it, if that was possible.

  Roran wondered vaguely how long it had been since the kid had had a bath. While the other boys had shown up in their best clothes, hoping to impress, this one wore little more than rags on his back. And what Roran had thought were well-worn brown shoes were really nothing more than extremely filthy feet. Extremely filthy, but tiny, just like the rest of him.

  But what really affected him where the boy’s eyes. Clear blue eyes, shocking and intense, looking out at him from a sea of brown.

  “What is your name boy?”

  The boy held his gaze for a moment then shook his head and dropped his eyes.

  “Can you speak?”

  The boy shook his head slowly from side to side.

  “Can you read or write?” A nod.

  “Write your name for me here, then.” Roran held out a quill and pushed a piece of blank parchment toward him. The boy lifted his right arm, then let it fall back to his side. Only then did Roran notice the rags wrapped around the boy’s fingers, crusty, dark, rust-colored stains barely visible through the dirt that Roran was fairly certain were blood. How could he have held the stick with hands like that?

  “Never mind,” Roran said, a crazy idea forming in his head. “Sean is right. You are too small for the King’s Guard.” The boy stiffened, and Roran could see him gripping his carved stick tightly. Recalling how the boy had reacted when Sean said the same thing, he wondered exactly where the boy was thinking of putting his stick to him. As entertaining as it might be to find out, he did not wish to prolong this any more than necessary.

  “However, you are not without skill, and you do exhibit potential.”

  Sean gaped at Roran, stunned. Probably because he’d never heard Roran speak quite so many words at one time.

  “So I will offer you a chance to become my squire. You will see to my needs and those of the others. You will cook meals and set up camp. You will do everything I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. And if I am pleased, I will allow you limited training with the others.”

  Sean’s jaw nearly touched the ground. Squires were not unheard of. Many of the high-ranking knight-warriors had them. But not Roran. And this dirty little whelp was a far cry from any typical squire.

  “Roran? May I speak with you for a moment?”

  “No.”

  Roran knew what Sean was going to say before he even said it. It was impossible to spend so much time with a man who talked so much and not know what he was going to say. However, it made no difference. He had already carefully considered every pro and con and had made his offer. He would not revoke it now. There was something about this youngling that intrigued him, and so few things did anymore.

  “Well, boy? What say you?”

  The boy shifted his weight from side to side several times as he considered Roran’s offer. His movements were so slight that most people would not have even noticed, but Roran did. Then, finally, the boy returned the hat to his head and nodded once.

  Roran didn’t realize how much he had wanted the boy to say yes until he felt the wave of relief.

  “Good. Take this -” Roran counted out several coins and slid them in front of the boy “- to your family as recompense. We leave at dawn. Be back here an hour before. And for God’s sakes, boy, take a dip in the loch and get yourself something decent to wear. I will expect you to be clean and presentable tomorrow. Do I make myself clear?”

  Another nod. The boy snatched up the coins and disappeared.

  Chapter Four

  “You will not see the lad again,” Sean predicted that night at dinner as he lifted the turkey leg to his mouth. “He has no doubt already spent the coin and is laughing about it as we speak. Not that the lad couldn’t use a decent meal, mind you. A good stiff wind might pick that one up.”

  Roran didn’t think the boy would fail. He was fairly certain he knew why the boy had run off so quickly. He’d seen the greedy look on some of the larger boys’ faces. It didn’t take a clever man to figure out they would try to take the coin from the little one.

  Roran considered it to be a kind of test, really. Not only did this provide the squire with a chance to prove his reliability, but also that he was relatively self-sufficient and able to handle himself among the bigger, brawnier lads. It brought back a lot of his own memories, from a time when he had been not much more than a scrawny lad himself. Now he was as tall and broad as any, holding the respect of a king and legions of men, but he had never forgotten what it felt like to be the scrapper.

  “Mark my words, Roran. You might as well have just tossed the coins into the loch for all the good you will see from them.”

  Roran drank deeply of the draught before him. He certainly hoped not. There was nothing more effective at getting Sean to cease prattling for a while than being proven wrong.

  Roran had no wish to spend his evening in the pub, listening to Sean go on about the boy or Roran’s foolishness. Instead, he opted for a walk after his evening repast.

  Donatirim really wasn’t such a bad place at this time of day, he mused. It was hard to see the dirt and dust in the gloaming, in any event. An arid breeze drifted among the structures, bringing with it the cool of the night along with scents of parched earth and scorched grass.

  He walked for some time before he saw the slight flicker of flames halfway up the rocky hill. It was gone so quickly he thought he might have imagined it. Roran fixed his eyes in the darkness upon the spot where he thought he had seen it, and, after several minutes, was rewarded with another fleeting glimpse.

  By nature he was not an overly inquisitive man, but something compelled him, drew him toward the brief flicker. With unusual stealth and grace for a man his size, he picked his way silently up the hill. In the light of the half-full moon, he spotted the cave entrance. Roran crouched in the shadows and opened his senses, his mild curiosity aroused.

  *

  Brighid dropped all but one of the coins Roran had given her into the little girl’s hand.

  The little girl’s eyes grew as big as saucers. “Jesu! Where did ye get all of these?”

  “From the king’s mon, dummy,” Coinin answered with the impatience of an older brother. “Where do ye think?”
<
br />   “Why are ye giving it to us? Do ye not need it?” asked Finn.

  Brighid shook her head, pointing to the trews and tunic she had purchased in the market with one of the coins, along with some coarse soap and a pair of boots.

  “The king’s mon will provide,” said Coinin roughly. “Do ye ken nothing?”

  “Ye look mighty fine in yer new clothes. I doona think the mon will recognize ye.”

  Brighid smiled, but Coinin shook his head and gave her a stern look. “Doona smile like that,” he warned. “Keep yer head down and remember what I taught ye, aye?”

  At nearly fourteen summers and the oldest among the orphans, Coinin had been teaching Brighid how to act and look like a proper lad. A young boy would be overlooked as just another orphaned bastard, but a young woman – especially one without a guardian – would incur the kind of interest none of them wanted. Thankfully, the young woman’s petite stature – along with several yards of stiff fabric to bind her feminine form beneath raggedy, ill-fitting clothes, made that possible.

  “And come here. Ye are too clean. Ye will stand out, for I ken of no other that actually washes behind his ears. We’ve got te dirty ye up a bit so ye blend in.”

  *

  Outside the cave, Roran chuckled at that, then eased his way back down the hill, his curiosity satisfied, reflecting on what he had heard. Well, Sean was right in a way. His new squire had managed to dispose of the coins rather quickly after all, but he doubted Sean would have ever guessed on what.

  *

  “Ye will share one last meal with us, then?” pleaded Finn. Brighid nodded. She had become so accustomed to silence, she sometimes forgot she could speak. With her shape hidden beneath boy’s clothing, blade-chopped hair and ever-present hat, she had been able to blend in as a dirty orphan boy. But her voice was a different story. There was nothing she could do to hide the lyrical and decidedly feminine tones of it, so she had just stopped talking altogether.

  Tonight, however, she would make an exception, for it was important that they understood.

  “Must ye leave, Brighid?” asked a teary Elsa.

  “Aye,” Brighid explained patiently, her soft voice a bit rough from disuse. “I willnae find the answers I seek in Donatirim.”

  “Can ye not take us with ye?”

  “Nae, sweetling, though it fair breaks my heart te leave ye. Scamallhaven is too far of a journey for one with no coin or horse.”

  “But we can use these,” Elsa said hopefully, holding out the handful of small gold coins.

  “’Twill be more than enough te keep yer bellies full and clothes on yer back for a long while if ye are careful, but nae near enough for a trip such as this.”

  “Will we ever see ye again?”

  Brighid had never lied to them; she was not about to start now. “If Fate wills it, then it shall be so. Ye ken I willnae make promises I cannae keep,” she said.

  Alone, the chances of her reaching the city were nearly impossible. Travelling with the king’s men was her only hope, and a slight one at that. It was one thing to play the peasant boy for small forays into town, quite another to live among knights and lads as one of them for the several weeks it would take to get there. But if she managed to make it without being killed or thrown into prison, she would do everything possible to return to them.

  It wouldn’t do to tell them that, though; the odds of her doing so were slim and she did not want to offer them false hope. “But doona worry overmuch, for Coinin is a man now, and he will care for ye.”

  “Ye’ll make it,” Coinin said with a confidence she wished she shared. “If anyone can, ye can.”

  “I thank ye fer that,” she said, giving him an affectionate hug. It was a measure of how seriously they viewed this that he did not pull away. “And now, let us enjoy this time together, for the night will pass far too quickly.”

  Chapter Five

  Roran had instructed his new squire to arrive an hour before dawn, and it was nearly that. Hoping that his instincts had not failed him, he rose and lit the candle beside the bed. It was only when he turned to fetch his clothes that he saw him. His new squire stood just inside the door with a jug of fresh water and a basket of bread and cheese.

  “How did you get in here without me hearing you?” he asked, bemused. He was a light sleeper, especially when not in his own bed. The squire shrugged. Roran lit a lamp to take a better look. The lad did look a might sight better. His clothes were well-worn, but at least they were more than the rags he’d had on yesterday. And he still wore that God-awful hat.

  “Well, come here, then. Let’s have a look.” The squire dutifully crossed the room with nary a sound to lay the water and food on the table while Roran looked him over. He deliberately pushed his head to the side and grunted. “You forgot to wash behind your ears, boy.” He could have sworn he caught the ghost of a smile. “But you’ll do, I suppose.”

  Roran quickly washed and then sat down to eat. The boy had retreated into the shadows where he remained silent and unmoving, but he could see the boy’s eyes following the bread as Roran broke off each piece and dipped it in the honey. At least the lad would not talk his ear off like Sean did.

  “Have you broken your fast?”

  The boy gave a minute shake of the head. Roran growled. “Why the hell not?” But as soon as he said it, he suspected he already knew the reasons why - because the lad had given all of his coins to the others. “Never mind. It does not matter. Here. Eat some of this while I get dressed.” He indicated the half loaf that remained.

  He watched out of the corner of his eye as the boy warily made his way across the room. Roran admired his ability to do so silently. The boy seemed to keep to the shadows as much as possible. With his small size and ability to move around unseen and unheard, Roran was liking his decision more and more. The lad might prove quite useful indeed. There were often times when stealth was more beneficial than brawn.

  The boy broke off a small piece for himself, then glanced furtively at Roran to see if he was watching before dipping it quickly in the honey and stuffing it into his mouth. Then the boy disappeared back into the shadows.

  “Is that all you are going to eat?” Roran asked. The boy had hardly taken enough for a bird. “You will need your strength, lad. If you cannot eat it now, put it in your pockets for later. We have a long journey ahead of us, and we will not be stopping for snacks or for weak little lads who cannot keep up.”

  Roran watched as the boy dropped his head and looked at his shoes for a moment. When he looked up again, Roran saw the steely glint of determination in his eyes. He only hoped the boy’s flesh was as strong as his spirit.

  Roran felt a small surge of pride when his squire, looking bright-eyed and alert, prepared their mounts and did a fine job of packing. The others, the new recruits, did not fare half as well. No doubt their families had feasted well into the night in celebration.

  “It is too goddamned early,” Sean complained when he finally made his way outside. Apparently he had partaken of feast and flesh throughout the night, as well. Roran discerned no less than four different female voices through the thin walls in the wee hours before dawn. It was not unexpected; Sean had a habit of gluttoning himself in preparation when weeks of abstinence lay ahead.

  Roran smirked at him and glanced to the side. Sean followed his gaze, his brows lifted when he saw the runt darting between the mounts, checking and re-checking everything.

  “Bugger me,” Sean said in disbelief.

  Ah, yes. Roran would appreciate the silence.

  Chapter Six

  Roran narrowed his eyes against the relentless burn of the sun. They had been travelling for hours, the air dry and thick with dust. Their progress was slow. Many of the new recruits, bubbling over with excitement at the outset, had long since depleted their reserves. Each passing hour had more limping from cracked feet and blisters.

  “Boy, fetch me some - ”

  Before he finished speaking, a wineskin was thrust into Roran
’s hands. “And a - ” A dampened strip of cloth was placed in the other.

  Roran used the cloth to wipe at his eyes. His new squire waited patiently before him, as alert and quiet as ever. As if he hadn’t been on his feet all day in the blistering heat. Unlike the others, he had not moaned or bellyached once (though Roran wasn’t even sure he could; he had yet to hear any sound from the lad). He only partook of the food and water when Roran insisted. Thinking back on what he had heard the previous evening, he wondered how many times his new squire had gone without food or rest to be so attuned to it.

  They stopped at dusk to make camp. Had it been just Roran and Sean they would have continued on for a few more hours, but the boys had reached the limits of their endurance. As they grew stronger, they’d be able to handle more, but there would be no benefit to pushing them beyond what they could handle.

  “’Tis a motley bunch,” Sean noted with some disappointment, watching them all but collapse. All but one, who was busily gathering wood and setting it beside the fire. While the others winced and tended to sore feet, Roran’s new squire fed and watered the horses. While they partook of bread and cheese, the squire filled wineskins with fresh water from the nearby creek and cleared an area of brush, sweeping it clean with large branches in preparation for nightfall. It was all done very skillfully and without hesitation, as if he had performed the tasks many times.

  Perhaps he had, Roran thought. He had the distinct impression that none of the other lads were very familiar with the wretched boy. Surely that would not be the case had the lad been in Donatirim for any length of time. Either they would already know the boy’s weaknesses or would have kenned that he would be unaffected and cease their thus-far futile attempts to goad him. It was yet one more thing that stirred Roran’s interest, one more thing that led him to believe the boy was more than a simple urchin. Sadly enough, Roran had seen enough of those.