"Ouch." She dropped the bow and rubbed her arm. "That hurt!"

"Let's try it with an arrow." Pulling an arrow from the quiver, he set the nock in the string and showed her how to rest it on her fingers. The children hastily finished setting up the targets and ran back to their sides.

"Go ahead and practice, children," Alisoun called.

They paid no attention to her words. They focused totally on the point of the arrow as she pulled the string back once more.

"Hold it up! Use a finer tension! Hold it up!" David squinted as the bow quivered in her grasp. "Now, let it fly!"

Plowing a furrow along the dirt, the arrow came to rest against a clump of gra.s.s not five feet in front of her. The children stared at it in confounded silence.

David told Alisoun, "You can open your eyes now."

Her eyes popped open. "I didn't realize I'd closed them." She looked eagerly at the targets.

Bert's laughter exploded in a snort and Eudo smothered it with his hand. Bewildered, Alisoun looked at them, then looked again at the targets. Taking her head, David moved it down until she could see the abused and dirty arrow.

"You didn't point high enough," he said.

"Oh." She looked at the children again, but they had their merriment firmly under control. "I'll do it again."

One thing David had to say about Alisoun, she didn't give up easily. More arrow points ate dirt than in his entire history of teaching squires. At last he said, "That's enough for now. Your wrist will be swollen if you don't stop."

"I've almost got it." She set her chin with determination. "Just one more." Notching the arrow, she lifted the bow high, and let it fly...over the training ground, over the weapons shed, and out of sight.

David, Alisoun, and the children stood frozen, waiting, wondering.

They heard a squawk. One squawk, then nothing.

"What have I done?" Alisoun whispered.

One of the goose girls came flying around the shed, holding a dead gander by its feet. "Who did that?" she shouted. "Me best stud, killed by an arrow!" She turned the bird and showed the shaft embedded in the gander's head.

"I'm sorry," David shouted back. "It's my fault."

"Likely story." The girl shook her finger toward Eudo. "'Twas probably this one, wi' his fancy aimin' an' his foreign ways."

Bert shouldered her way to the front. "Nay, Nancy, 'twas me." She took the bow out of Alisoun's limp grip and waved it. "I'm getting good, aren't I?"

Nancy squinted at the bow, then at the child holding it. She wanted to call Bert a liar, but she didn't dare.

"Take the gander to the kitchen," David instructed. "We'll have him for dinner and my lady will get us a new gander." He put his hand on her shoulder. "Won't you?"

"Aye, and gladly, too." Alisoun tried to smile, but it was nothing more than a lift of the lips to show her teeth.

Nancy nodded resentfully, and when she disappeared again Alisoun turned to David. "I am so sorry."

"'Tis nothing." He rubbed her back.

"Your best gander!"

Bert patted her hip. "Nancy thinks all of the ganders are her best gander."

Alisoun seemed to suddenly realize David and Bert were touching her, while she herself had not complied with David's request to give his child affection. Awkwardly, she patted Bert on the head. The girl looked up in astonishment. David waited, cringing, but Bert just shrugged and moved away.

"Can we do the swords now?" Bert loved the swords best. Laid out on a trestle table, the gray practice blades shone in the sun. No rust speckled their surface; even worn swords such as these merited good treatment. The wooden swords, too, had been carefully formed and kept for the younger boys' practice.

With reverent hands, Bert reached out and stroked one of the iron blades.

Catching her wrist, David said, "Swords would be a good idea." He thrust a wooden sword into her hand. "With this."

She pouted, sure she wouldn't get her way but resolved to try. "I'm big enough for a real sword."

"You're not."

"Let me try."

Hefting his own short sword, Eudo said, "A real squire wouldn't beg like a girl."

Even Bert's ears turned red. David could see the tips where they stuck out from her butchered hair. But she shut her mouth with a snap.

David turned to Alisoun. "We'll start you on a wooden sword, also."

Bert saw her chance to take her pique out on someone else. "Aren't you going to have her lift the broadsword?"

"Not this day." David spoke to Alisoun. "You hold the hilt in both your hands-"

"You made me pick up the broadsword first." Bert spoke in a singsong voice. "You always make the new swordsman pick up the broadsword first."

Annoyed, David said, "Nay, Bert."

"What's so entertaining about picking up the broadsword?" Alisoun fondled the handle of the biggest blade.

Bert smirked. "Have you ever picked one up?"

"You're such a baby," Eudo said in obvious disgust.

"She's not going to pick up a broadsword," David insisted.

"I think I would like to, now." Alisoun asked for permission with an appealing glance.

David glared at his daughter, then answered, "As you wish, my lady. However, they're very heavy and if you're not careful-"

She withdrew it from its sheath. It slid it off the table and the tip of the blade slapped to the ground.

"-you'll drop it." He tweaked Bert's hair hard enough to stop her from giggling, then moved to Alisoun's side. Again he took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her. Putting his hands over hers, he helped her lift it. "It's a good blade still," he told her. "Can you feel the balance? The weight?" Swaying back and forth, they swung it until it whistled. "In a fight, it's not necessarily the man with the most skill who wins. Often, it's the man with the most endurance."

"I understand. Let me hold it now."

"Don't make any sudden moves," he warned.

Never taking their gazes from the sword, the children moved away.

"Aye."

"I'm letting go now." He loosened his grip, and when she didn't immediately drop it, he stepped away.

She continued to move it, staring at the tip in amazement.

Then Bert said, "Lift it over your head."

David yelled, "Nay!"

He was too late. Alisoun brought the blade up. It hesitated just over her head, then tilted backward. She didn't have the strength to control it, but she didn't drop it. Instead she followed it as it tilted farther and farther, and at last she toppled backward.

She hit the ground as hard as one of her arrows.

David reached her side even as dust ruffled up. "Alisoun? Alisoun!"

She blinked her eyes open.

"Are you hurt?"

"It didn't feel good."

He slid his arm around her and helped her slowly sit up. Her wimple slid off the back of her head. She grabbed at it, but her braids dangled free and she grimaced. "Do you think-" David glanced at the children and lowered his voice, "-the babe is injured?"

"I think the babe is better cushioned than I am." She answered as quietly, then rubbed at her tailbone.

A small voice broke into their conversation. "I'm sorry."

David didn't turn his head, but Alisoun did.

"Daddy, I'm really, really sorry. I didn't know she'd hit so hard."

For the first time ever, David found himself thoroughly angry at his daughter. He could scarcely maintain a civil tone when he said, "Don't ask my forgiveness, Bert. Ask your stepmother's. She's the one who suffered."

"I beg your pardon, my lady." Bert fought tears now. "I didn't mean for you to get hurt."

"I am only bruised, Bertrade, and of course I forgive you." She reached over David's shoulder and patted the girl's head, and this time she did it comfortably. "After all, it's mostly your daddy's fault."

"My fault?" David reared back. "Why my fault?"

"Isn't that jest one you play on all your squires?"

Trying to be righteous, David proclaimed, "It gives them an idea of the work they need to do before they can be dubbed a knight."

"I think it's mean."

David found himself wanting to squirm.

"So why wouldn't your daughter want me to supply the same entertainment the other squires have provided?" She shook her head reprovingly. "I'm afraid you're going to have to take credit for this, David. Now help me up and we'll go to work."

When had he become the one who needed to be taught? Trying to regain control of the practice, David said, "We'll do the knifework now." Bert began to protest, but he stared at her until she shut her mouth, and he added, "'Twill be your most likely source of defense anyway, my lady."

Eudo put away the swords while Bert removed the wooden knives and put them on the table, never touching or asking to touch the real blades with their sharp edges. The children both showed off their best behavior, realizing, no doubt, that David had quickly reached his limit.

Too quickly, he admitted ruefully. If he had been sleeping regularly in Alisoun's bed, he might have felt secure enough to listen to Alisoun's reproval without becoming defensive.

Bert tugged at the hem of his gown. "I'll use the wooden blade, Daddy."

"Good." David nodded.

Eudo's hand hovered over the hilts. "Which blade would you like Lady Alisoun to use, my lord?"

"The light one," David answered.

Eudo handed it to Alisoun hilt first, and she accepted it with a gracious smile. "You have been good to allow me to interrupt your true instruction."

Bert wiggled in between them. "It's my true instruction, too."

Eudo rolled his eyes.

Without even seeing him, Bert said, "Well, it is!"

"It's harder than I expected." Alisoun cradled the knife between her two palms. "You must be very proud of your skills."

Inveterately honest, Bert was forced to admit, "I'm not good yet, but I'm a lot better than I used to be. You'll see. You'll get better, too."

Something loosened in David. The training session might have gone poorly, but his intuition had been correct. Bert was talking to Alisoun now. She saw her as someone who had to learn, to grow, someone whose apparent perfection had been hard won, and who was willing to study under those who knew more than she-possibly even from Bert.

David tugged on one of Alisoun's loose braids until she turned and looked at him. "Bert is one of my best pupils, and with Eudo's ingenuity he'll be the new legendary mercenary of England."

Eudo flushed and Bert grinned, and Alisoun swung the knife enthusiastically. "Long live Bert and Eudo!"

Suddenly the end of the braid was dangling from David's hand.

He stared at it. He stared at her braid, shorter by five inches. He stared at an open-mouthed Bert, at round-eyed Eudo, and finally at Alisoun. Alisoun, too stunned to speak or move.

The moment seemed frozen in time.

Then a tiny sound broke their paralysis.

Alisoun choked.

"Don't cry," David begged, removing the dagger from her hand.

She choked again.