The Robber Knight's Love

66. Under Attack

"Stand and fight, you mangy, weather-bitten cur!"

The mangy, weather-bitten cur, who was actually quite a pleasant-looking young soldier, had no intention of doing anything of the sort. He backed up until he stood with his back to the barrack wall, then ducked out of the way of the next upcoming blow. The stick wielded by his opponent missed him by an inch or so, bouncing off the wall with a dull thud.

"Coward! You flee from my prowess with the blade!"

"Um... It's not a blade," one of the horrified onlookers dared to mention. "It's just a stick."

He regretted his words immediately. In an instant, the attacker's attention shifted its focus to him. The people around the unfortunate speaker stepped back. Nobody wanted to be this close to deadly danger.

"Only a stick, is it?" The attacker started forward. "Oh yes, it's only a stick. And do you know why it's only a stick? Because none of you will let me have a real sword!" The attacker quickened her pace. The man who had been so foolish as to open is mouth tried to step back, but found a solid wall of people behind him.

"Well," he began cautiously, "you see, maybe it's not a good idea for you to have a sword. After all, you're only five years old, and..."

That remark would probably caused him some serious bruises, but at that very moment, a voice cut through the clear morning air of the courtyard.

"What in the name of Saint Peter and Saint Paul is going on here?"

All heads turned. The endangered soldier almost collapsed with relief.

"Milady! Thank God you're here! She won't leave us in peace, and keeps meddling in our training!"

Accusingly, he pointed at a defiant Fye who was standing in the middle of the courtyard, her stick raised to strike with both hands.

Jumping from Eleanor's back, Ayla rushed forward and gathered Fye up in her arms. She gave the soldier a cold look.

"You let a five-year-old participate in soldier's work? How could you!"

The soldier's chin dropped. "We didn't let her do anything. She just came along and demanded to practice with us!"

"And why, if I may ask, did you not make leave, soldier?"

"Well... um... Milady... because... because we... " He closed his mouth, but his eyes said it all. Ayla sighed.

"Return to your training, soldier. I will take care of this."

"Yes, Milady! As you command, Milady. Thank you, Milady!"

Ayla walked a little way away from the soldiers, and settled down on an empty barrel, putting the little girl on her knee. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Reuben following her, watching the goings on with interest. But right now, her attention wasn't focused on him, but on Fye.

"Fye?" she said in as cautious a voice as possible—the kind of voice you would employ to talk to a cornered wolf cub. "Will you give me the stick, please?"

A hopeful expression lit the little girl's face.

"Will you give me a sword instead?"

"Um... no. I don't think so."

"Why not? I want to have a sword!"

"I heard that." Frantically, Ayla searched her brain for the right words. There weren't any available, so she went back on tradition. "But you see, Fye, girls, especially little girls like you, aren't supposed to have swords."