Page 59 of Stay with Me

“I want to learn.” She was taking in every detail of the bow as if picturing herself using it the way he had.

She’d donned the green tunic, but her head was bare, as it had been last eve during the wedding. Thank heavens at least she’d pulled her hair back into a knot so it was no longer hanging loosely around her, adding to her irresistible allure. He’d expected her to wait for Beatrice’s assistance with her grooming, but Beatrice likely hadn’t anticipated them rising so early, presumed the newlyweds would stay abed.

The village was only just stirring after the late night of feasting. A few women were out gathering tinder for fuel, and two men were drawing water from a well into large buckets that would be used to replenish the troughs for the oxen and horses.

“Will you teach me?” The green of Sybil’s eyes in the morning light was filled with expectation and eagerness. She was serious about learning to use the bow and arrow.

He couldn’t imagine any other woman wanting to learn. But he had no reason to deny her this. Having some skill with the bow and arrow wouldn’t hurt her—might, in fact, help save her life.

“Find us a regular bow,” he called to the boy retrieving the arrows. “And gloves.”

“I’ll use the longbow.” Sybil crossed to him and reached for it.

He slung it over his shoulder away from her. “’Tis too big and heavy for a beginner. You will start your learning on a regular bow.”

Her brows pinched as though she might protest, but then she nodded. “Let me watch you again. But this time go slower.”

The boy brought him the arrows, and as he raced off to find a bow for Sybil, Nicholas went through the basics, showing her how to hold the bow, how to locate the points on the string protected by horn, and then how to nock into one of those points. He fired the arrows and answered her astute questions.

When the boy returned, Sybil wasted no time putting on the gloves and readying herself with the regular bow, positioning it, nocking an arrow, and then firing. She lacked power and the arrow fell flat only a dozen paces away.

As the sun rose higher, the villagers were soon hard at work doing their daily tasks for survival. With the plowing and sowing already completed in the cleared field, the men devoted themselves to other tasks. Some were repairing a wattle fence with more daub, while others created a dead hedge with hawthorn and brambles. Another man was in the process of steam bending hazel so the wood could be shaped for furniture, while yet another was shoeing a horse.

Several women were already using the walking wheels to spin the newly shorn wool, winding it into thread on a spindle. A couple of women were milking sheep and would use the liquid to make sheep’s cheese. Still others were gathering geese eggs or were working in their gardens.

Except for Eric, who glared once in passing, and the village children perched on fence posts nearby, no one seemed to be paying particular attention to his shooting lesson with Sybil, although he suspected everyone was watching nonetheless. They didn’t expect him to join in their work, but he had assisted from time to time on previous visits with whatever tasks were most urgent.

They wouldn’t expect Sybil, as a nobleman’s wife, to take up the daily tasks either, although she would find more fulfillment in accomplishing something rather than sitting around doingnothing. He trusted that Beatrice would aid her in filling her time productively while not taxing her unnecessarily.

Whatever the case, he relished teaching her archery. She was a quick learner and a hard worker. When she finally began to understand the technique, her arrows flew with more strength and precision, not hitting the target but at least going some distance. Never once did she complain, even though he guessed her arms ached from the repetition of pulling the bow and that her fingers were sore, even through the gloves.

Upon finishing with the archery lessons, she wanted him to show her how to ride a horse, and after that, she insisted on learning some basic sword-fighting maneuvers.

The day passed much too rapidly. At eventide, the villagers used his new marriage as another chance to feast together. When the feasting was over, he took the first guard duty shift. By the time he stumbled into the cottage in the early hours of the morn, he was tempted to crawl into bed with her again. But he refrained and spread out a blanket on the floor instead, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist her the next time he slept beside her.

The next day followed a similar pattern, and he spent nearly every waking moment with her in archery and sword-fighting practice along with more training with riding a horse. She was easy to converse with, and he never tired of being with her. In fact, the more time he spent with her, the more he began to dread leaving.

But upon speaking with Ralph and several other men, ’twas clear he could delay his departure no longer, especially because riders had been spotted in the Weald. He did not doubt the riders were Simon’s men searching for him. Nicholas had to track them down, wherever they were, and let them pick up his trail so that he could lead them far away from Devil’s Bend.

That night, again, he forced himself to sleep on a blanket on the floor. When he awoke, Sybil was already at the butts practicing with her bow, her arrows imbedding into the target ever closer to the center. He fell into an easy rhythm with her similar to the other mornings. But as the sun rose higher and the village began to awaken, he knew he had to be off.

He reached for Sybil’s bow, but she shifted it away from him even as she pulled out another arrow. “You have worked hard enough for now.” He spoke firmly. “Time to rest.”

“I’m very close to hitting the center target. Just a few more tries, and I’ll have it.”

“Most boys must practice weeks before being proficient. You cannot expect to learn archery in mere days.”

“I intend not only to learn it but to become one of the best.” She held herself almost defiantly, her flashing eyes daring him to contradict her.

He wouldn’t have been able to even if he tried. She was simply too beautiful, with her chin jutting out and her forehead lined with determination.

“Beatrice has delivered us a meal, and we shall go now and eat it.” His stomach growled, confirming the need for the fare.

Sybil glanced to the cottage, as though surprised to see that the real world still existed all around her. She stared at the door for a moment, then shook her head. “You go. I’ll continue to practice.”

As she started to draw her bow, he swooped her up, bow and all, slung her across his shoulder, and carried her toward the cottage.

“What are you doing?” She didn’t fight him. Instead, her voice almost sounded amused.

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