Lion's Bride - Iris Johansen [55]
“I’m preparing to put my men through their paces. I do it three times a week while I’m in residence at Dundragon. I’ll join you in the Great Hall when I’m finished.”
She remembered catching glimpses of the training during her first days there. “I’d like to watch.”
He shrugged. “Do as you like. Just stay out of the way.”
She sat down on the steps and encircled her knees with her arms.
Bowmen were practicing their skills in one part of the courtyard set aside for that purpose. However, for the better part of an hour Ware dedicated himself to the men on horseback, having them wheel on command and then charge across the courtyard with lances lowered. After he was satisfied with their performance, he turned the horsemen over to Abdul. Then he was everywhere, totally in command, instructing, watching, praising, scowling.
“Is he not splendid?” Thea glanced up to see Haroun on the top step. He sat down beside her, his gaze fastened worshipfully on Ware. “He shines like the sun.”
Thea did not find the description overaccurate. “I’d say he shimmers more than shines.” Like a broadsword in moonlight, lifted and ready to strike. “And should you be out of bed?” She touched the bandage binding his head. “Does it still ache?”
“No,” he answered, then gestured impatiently at the soldiers. “I should be out with them. Lord Ware said I am a soldier now, and soldiers don’t lie in bed being waited on.”
But he was only a boy, Thea thought sadly. So young to be dazzled by the military exercise surrounding him. She said gently, “Perhaps in a few days.”
“I’m well now.” His words came haltingly. “I mean no offense. You’ve been very kind, but it would be good to be busy again.”
Of course it would. She and Jasmine had been so concerned with healing him, they had almost forgotten that the best healer, other than time itself, was to be constantly occupied.
“You look in good health.” Ware was walking his horse toward the steps, his stern stare fixed on Haroun. “What are you doing sitting with women?”
Haroun flushed and jumped to his feet. “I did not mean—Jasmine said my wound is—I’m sorry, my lord.”
“If you’re sorry, you’ll go to the stable and report to Abdul. He has things to teach you, if you’re to be my squire.”
“At once, my lord. I did not—” He stopped, his eyes widening. “Your squire?”
“You heard me. I’m weary of having a hodgepodge of soldiers care for my armor and do my bidding. You may be young, but Abdul says you’re quick to learn.” His gaze bored into the boy’s. “Did he tell the truth?”
“I’ll be very quick, my lord. You’ll see….” He repeated in a whisper, “Your squire. Truly? Just like the squires of the Franks?”
“Better. Just as all my soldiers must be better.” He got down from the horse and tossed the boy the reins. “Take my horse to the stable. Abdul will show you how to care for him.”
Haroun nodded eagerly and jerked at the reins.
“Easy,” Ware said. “He’s well trained. You don’t have to drag him to the stable.”
Thea watched as the boy led the huge horse across the courtyard. Pride and eagerness were in every line of his thin, wiry body, and she was poignantly reminded of that night she had first met him.
“I suppose you disapprove,” Ware said. “You cannot pamper the boy forever. He’s better off with work to do.”
She didn’t point out that a few days was not forever. “I agree.”
His brows lifted. “You do?”
“When my mother died, I was glad I was forced to work. Why didn’t you have a squire before?” Then she realized the reason. A squire worked closely with his master, and Ware had allowed no one close. “Will he be safe?”
“The Grand Master has decreed no one is safe. At least he’ll be close enough for me to look after.” He strode up the steps. “Come along. You have work to do. You’ve been lazy enough this day.”
“Lazy? I’m not your squire and I do you a service. I will not be called—” She stopped in midsentence as she realized he was smiling. It was a small smile but, amazingly, contained