Page 13 of Fortress of Snow

Berenger retrieved the knives. “Show him.” Berenger handed the knives to her.

Mazy threw each one, taking a little more care and time, and each one stuck near the center of the target. She picked up the bow and arrows and did just as well with those.

Sir John shook his head. “At least no man can ever take advantage of you.”

Mazy’s smile was as bright as the noonday sun at her brother’s words.

“Is there anything you don’t know how to do?” Berenger asked.

“I never learned to sword fight. The sword is a bit heavy for me, and Father wouldn’t let his guards train me.”

“We could get you a lighter wooden sword like the squires start out practicing with.” Berenger expected her brother to fetch her a sword, but instead he started talking to her in a low voice.

Berenger did not want to interfere when Sir John was talking to his sister, so he ordered the squires to get back to practicing their archery skills.

Mazy had never had the opportunity before to show off her archery and knife-throwing skills. It was quite satisfying to hear the squires, though they were only boys, teasing each other by saying, “She’s better than you are.”

When John came over to her, she decided this was her chance to talk to him about her future.

“You should be careful about spending time out here with these boys, especially when the guards are around.” John spoke in a low voice, with no emotion at all, a sharp contrast to his angry ranting of the day before. “Some of them are not very noble toward women.”

“I will be careful.” She believed she was safe as long as Sir Berenger was around, but decided not to tell her brother that.

“I don’t know what you plan to do,” her brother began, “but I won’t be at Strachleigh forever.”

“I know. That is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“And you haven’t heard from Warin? It’s his responsibility to take care of you. He inherited everything,” John said sullenly.

“I haven’t heard from him, but I don’t trust him to find a husband for me, which was all he seemed interested in doing for me.”

“You’ll have to marry.”

“Yes, I know.” She wanted to say that she was hoping John would help her find a husband, but something stopped her.

“You are too young to find a husband on your own, but not too young to marry,” John went on. “Warin should be helping you. He’s older and knows more rich noblemen. He didn’t spend his life training. He went to balls and feasts and took his ease.”

Mazy let out a slow breath. John sounded bitter, and he obviously wasn’t eager to help her.

“I don’t trust Warin,” she said again.

John turned to the side and spit on the ground. Finally he said, “I don’t know what to tell you. I’m just a knight.”

Mazy’s heart sank at hearing John’s words. It hurt that John was not willing to help her, clearly more focused on his own pain than her predicament. But she also felt relief at knowing that she would not be married off right away.

Her future seemed more uncertain than ever.

***

During the next couple of weeks, Mazy spent her time with the squires and knights, watching them, learning what she could. Often Sir Berenger included her in the squires’ training. John, however, mostly ignored her, which she understood, to a point. He had a job to do, after all.

Piers had left the day after they arrived, and she had told him not to keep her whereabouts a secret from Warin if it meant he would be punished. She was surprised Warin still had not sent men to find her and make sure she was safe.

She hoped John would send word to Warin that he was taking over responsibility for finding her a husband, but given his attitude, that seemed unlikely. And Mazy was afraid that asking John to write to Warin would make him angry. She was disappointed that John had not treated her the way she’d imagined. But he was her brother, and she still believed he cared for her.

She felt safe as long as Sir Berenger was nearby. She’d heard about the compassionate way he treated the little boy who had recently lost his mother, and she’d seen the way he treated women, even the lowliest of the servant girls, with great courtesy and deference. He never offended her with the wolfish glances that other men often gave her, especially when they thought she wasn’t looking.

One day Mazy came upon the squires having their jousting lessons. Seated on their horses, one after the other they charged at a small wooden shield that hung from a tree. She’d heard one of the boys say it was easier than tilting at a quintain, which had a revolving arm. If a squire didn’t spur his horse to move quickly enough after hitting the target, the sandbag on the other end would spin around and hit him in the head.