Part 26 (1/2)

”No, a boar.”

Fayth raised her brows in surprise.

”Aye, I know. You rarely see them anymore, they weren't so plentiful then, either, though they were to be had. Anyway, we were becoming bored, as the others had all made kills and we were missing even the toads with our wee bows. We wandered away in our search for mice and birds. We heard grunting and growling, and realized right away what it was.”

”Oh no,” Fayth said, genuinely horrified.

Alex hesitated, then continued. ”Aye, we decided to pursue it. We had great visions of Cook roasting it with an apple in its mouth and all the men slapping our backs and praising our great skill. It was rooting about in a thicket. It was my idea to block its exits. Eliot got off the first shot. Rather than run away, the boar charged at him.” Alex shook his head. ”It tore him up.”

Fayth's hand was over her mouth, her question m.u.f.fled. ”You killed it?”

Alex nodded. ”Aye. I was too scared to even shoot my bow, so I took after it with my dirk.” Alex sighed, still feeling the regret after all these years. ”But I wasn't quick enough. Eliot still lost his arm.”

”But he lived.”

”Aye.”

Alex stared out into the daylight, recalling Eliot after losing his arm. He'd not been angry or bitter. He'd thanked Alex for saving his life, though Alex had been filled with remorse that he'd not been quick enough. And they'd gone on. Eliot had learned to do nearly everything he could do with two hands with one. When Alex had been sent to Dunfermline, it was Eliot, and sometimes Patrick, who visited him, sneaking in whisky and candles, books, warm underclothes-things which were eventually discovered and cost him dearly in beatings and the other vile forms of punishment monks devised in their solitude. The more Alex thought on it, the harder it was to determine exactly when Eliot changed.

Alex slowly became aware that Fayth stared at him, unblinking, chewing an already ragged thumbnail.

”If you're still hungry, I can come up with something, I'm sure.”

She gave him a narrow look and dropped her hand in her lap, balling it into a fist.

”I know how you and Eliot felt... wanting to make your father proud.”

”Aye?”

Her cheeks flushed, a lovely bloom of color, as if she wished she hadn't spoken.

”Did your dragon hunt win your father's approval?”

”Well... no, and I was quite a bit older than you were.”

When she seemed disinclined to continue Alex prompted her, ”Come now, I told you my dragon slaying story, now you must tell me yours.”

”There's not much to tell, really. It was a year or so ago. Papa had just started allowing me to go on raids with him and Wesley-” She stopped at the look of horror on Alex's face. ”If you're going to do that, I won't tell the story at all.”

Alex forced a look of polite interest. Hugh Graham took his daughter raiding? Good G.o.d!

She settled back into her story. ”He only took me on small raids, ones he was sure there was little chance of a skirmish. We were raiding the Musgraves-they'd recently stolen from Papa a hundred kine, his best horse, five sleuth dogs and an ox-when they ambushed us. Papa told me to ride away. I protested and begged him to let me stay.” Her mouth tightened, her gaze on her hands which twisted the frayed ends of his wool rug. ”In front of everyone he became furious and threatened to use his belt on my a.r.s.e if I didn't go home.”

Alex refrained from shouting, Good for him! and tried to look properly sympathetic.

”I was humiliated. He sent Jack with me, to see me home safe. The Musgraves pursued us, but we got away. On the way we pa.s.sed Ned Storey's tower. The tower looked deserted and no one was watching the sheep penned just outside the barmkin.” She grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. ”So we took them.”

”And Jack didn't try to stop you? Didn't he have orders to see you home safely?”

Her smile faded and she gave him a sharp look. ”No, Jack never tried to tell me what to do.”