RavenHawke by Deborah Macgillivray

Author:Deborah Macgillivray
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Prairie Rose Publications
Published: 2017-08-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Trì luchainn le miotagan a ghlacadh gu cait.

(Three mice with gloves can catch a cat.)

— Maeve Montgomerie

Damian turned to frown at Aithinne’s brothers. They needed frowning at. Gad, six and ten years of age, yet they held the swords as if they were gripping adders. He feared he had a task ahead of him trying to turn these milksops into men. He liked them, despite their annoying eccentricities. Hugh and Lewis had the habit of finishing each other’s thoughts, whilst Deward’s never seemed to stop. Listening to him made Damian want to gasp for a breath somewhere in his long recitations.

He suppressed a smile at their disgruntled expressions. Upon learning of their new routine of spending the morning training on the lists, they ran to hide behind the hem of Aithinne’s kirtle, begging for her to intercede. The lady of Coinnleir Wood had not warmed to the reality that she no longer had final say in matters at Lyonglen, especially where her precious brothers were concerned.

“Swords do not bite. Get a firm grip on them or this will happen―” Damian swung his weapon with all his might against Hugh’s, the blades clanging together.

Since Hugh’s hold on the pommel was too loose and far back on the hilt, all the vibrations of metal-meeting-metal traveled up the sword and straight into his arm and shoulder. The poor lad tried to keep his grip, but the blade jarred from his hand clattered to the ground.

Damian extended his arm and leveled his blade, tip to the young man’s heart, staring down the gleaming steel at him. “That is how easily you can die in battle.” He almost laughed when Hugh swallowed hard.

Unfortunately the lesson was lost on Lewis. He immediately held up the sword before his face, examining the blade. “This groove…what ’tis for? I heard say it as to let the blood of the victim flow freely once you pierce his body. Is that so, Lord RavenHawke?”

“Ugh.” Deward shuddered and turned so pale, Damian feared he might faint.

Damian sighed and lowered his weapon. “The groove is to let the sword be strong, yet lighten its weight. Blood does not need help to flow. So, it is not a blood-gutter.”

Deward’s Adam’s apple bobbed as a green tinge filled his cheeks. “I do not think…I want to do this, they can just kill me and have done with it.”

Rolling his eyes in disgust, Damian collected the swords. “Swords require strength, which you lads have not developed. Can you even hold a lance?” He handed Lewis one of the practice lances from the rack. Lewis and the lance hit the ground, as he went down on his knees. “Forget the lance and tilting for now. Have you had any training?”

Hugh brightened and grinned. “We are very good with our staffs.”

Damian could not help the chuckle that rumbled in his chest. He had a feeling Aithinne’s brothers were not any better at swiving lasses than they were at the art of warfare. “Ah, I let that pass without comment.

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