Page 2 of To Protect

Roland laughed. “You do not believe swords win battles? Perhaps because you’ve never actually seen one?” he teased.

“I’ve seen plenty,” Darien said. The golden boy of their order, a man all loved, instructors and fellow recruits alike, was as mysterious as he was charming. “And know well the importance of archers.” He smiled. “Such as myself.”

While it was true Sir Darien was a superior archer, Roland took exception to his assessment of their importance, at least over swordsmen. “And when you can no longer play at war from a distance? When your enemy is upon you?”

“Both are necessary,” Alden said, ever the peacemaker. “As you know. I’m surprised you bait a man who will never concede to you.”

“As always, blacksmith, you speak the truth,” Darien replied as the three men turned toward the hall. “So, tell me, how skilled is he truly? I’ve yet to train against him.”

They spoke of the match, of their instructors’ skill and of their missing compadre. The three men had been recruited during the same period, along with a fourth, who had left Blackwood to marry in secret. There had been no word of Sir Gareth since he left.

“The baron will never accept him,” Roland said of the bride’s father, the same man who financed their cause. A man none cared much for, despite that fact.

“Nay, he will not,” Alden agreed.

“One of many reasons not to fall in love.”

Roland hadn’t realized his friends looked at him strangely until they became so quiet he looked at them. He had been noticing the craftsmanship on the torches as they passed.

“Do not tell me the two of you believe in such a sentiment.”

“Love?” Darien asked. “I’ve not met anyone who thought the sentiment was so unworthy. Though it should not surprise me to hear you say such a thing.”

“You of all men should know, eldest sons of earls do not marry for love.”

Darien did not seem convinced.

“Gareth is not the eldest son of a noble,” Alden pointed out.

“Nay, but will pay a price, I am certain, for marrying Lord Ashcroft’s daughter in secret. Love,” Roland spat. “Naught but ill comes from it. Thankfully such a thing isn’t necessary for dalliances.”

“Of which you have plenty,” Alden said.

“Speaking of dalliances,” Darien said. “A few of us are going into the village this eve.”

“If that is an invitation . . . ” Roland stood at the entrance of the hall where the midday meal was well underway. “Count us among the few.”

“Us?” Alden asked. “I’ve an early morning session with Lord Stirling. And unlike Darien, I’ve little skill with the bow and arrow to speak of.”

“Us,” Roland repeated. “If your aim is not true after a few pints of ale, then we can no longer be friends.”

“If I knew such a feat would be so easy, I’d have missed the mark long ago.”

Though Roland scowled at the jest, Darien laughed as they sat down with their fellow recruits, all talk of training and the village momentarily forgotten in favor of the meal before them.