Chapter 4 #3
“Ye brought Kenneth so he would ken how poorly I shoot, is that it?”
“What? Nay!”
Kenneth covered up Euan’s irritated sputter with a statement of his own. “I heard at supper, where ye were missed, that ye two planned to do this, and I decided to join ye. Ye are no’ the only one who needs some low light practice, aye?”
“Aye, right.” Calum frowned but accepted Kenneth’s explanation. It sounded like something he’d do. He tried a small smile to make up for his reaction to Kenneth’s presence. “Let’s go, then.”
Outside, Calum looked first to the ramparts, to see if Ella dared to be up there again.
He had not wanted her watching over him when he was confined to his bed, and he didn’t need her doing it now.
And it would be so much worse for Kenneth and Euan to notice her there.
Thankfully, the only person he saw was a guard standing a good distance from them, his back to them, as well.
Relieved, Calum dropped his gaze and found that someone, probably Kenneth, had set up extra targets.
Without debate, each of them moved into position on one and nocked an arrow.
Tension made Calum’s muscles tight. Could he do this with Iain’s tanist and the arms master watching?
He was used to hitting the bullseye consistently.
But now, he might miss the target completely.
Nay. He would not. He took a breath, pulled and let fly.
The arrow hit solidly a few inches to the right of his usual spot, but all in all, it wasn’t a bad shot.
He heard Euan’s and Kenneth’s arrows finding their targets, but didn’t glance their way. They were both master archers. They wouldn’t miss. And if they were shooting, they weren’t watching him.
He nocked another arrow and lined up a little to the left of his last shot.
It landed closer to center, but still not where it should be.
He fired another and another, tracking nearer to his target each time as he learned how to adjust to the state of his vision.
He experimented with aiming higher and lower to see if that had any effect.
Closing his left eye and depending on his right eye made him miss even farther to the right than his first attempt.
It wasn’t perfect, but the left eye was helping.
With every shot he learned something, and the weight of his fears for his future eased a little. By the time he needed to retrieve his arrows, he felt if not happy, at least calmer.
Euan and Kenneth joined him before he did so.
“Good shooting,” Euan said.
Kenneth nodded. “I see what ye did, trying different angles and tracking in to compensate for the difference in yer vision.” He indicated the movement toward the center of Calum’s first shots and the higher and lower ones that followed.
“Excellent thinking, Calum. Ye came very close to yer usual skill. More practice should get ye where ye want to be.”
Calum nodded, at a loss for what to say to Kenneth’s praise. He’d succeeded better than he’d dared hope, and with Kenneth’s approval, he could continue to refine his skill.
“We’re losing the light,” Euan remarked, “or I’d go another round. Tomorrow, then?”
“Aye,” Calum agreed, eager after Kenneth’s approval to do whatever it took to get better.
Kenneth nodded and went to collect the arrows from his target. Calum and Euan did the same, then they all went back inside the gates. Kenneth left them to put their weapons away, saying he’d join them inside.
“I call for an ale,” Euan announced and gestured toward a table in the great hall. “What ye just did should be celebrated.”
“An ale wouldna go amiss,” Calum agreed and moved forward to claim a spot.
Kenneth joined them as a serving lass brought their drinks.
Calum asked for some food to go with his, his belly having unknotted enough for him to be hungry. The lass gave him a smile and hurried away to fetch what was left from the supper he’d skipped.
They talked weapons and tactics, the conversation so comfortingly normal that it gave Calum as much hope as his successful archery practice earlier.
When his food arrived, he fell to with more appetite than he’d had since he’d been injured.
The lass brought extras for Kenneth and Euan, so they all chewed as they talked, and before long, several other men joined them.
“Calum, ’tis good to see ye among us again,” one remarked. “Ye look well.”
“Aye,” another joined in. “I hope we’ll see ye on the practice ground soon.”
“Nay tomorrow,” Kenneth cautioned. “Ye’ll need the healer’s blessing to fight with a blade or hand-to-hand.”
Though it rankled, he knew Kenneth was right. He couldn’t yet depend on his left-side vision to defend against an attack from that side. Archery was one thing. Swordplay could get him injured worse than the injury he’d already suffered. Or get him killed.
“I’m nay a fool,” Calum told him. “I dinna need any of ye lot taking my head from my shoulders because I canna clearly see ye coming.”
“So yer vision is still no’…” the man trailed off as if unsure how to describe it.
Calum’s improved mood allowed him to reply charitably. “Completely clear and sharp? Nay, ’tisna, but ’tis getting better. Ye’ll have yer chance at me soon enough.”
Euan lifted his cup. “I’ll drink to that.”
The men joined him with convivial laughter that warmed Calum down to his bones.
Conversation continued in a pleasant rumble around the table.
Calum sipped his ale, simply enjoying his return to the life he’d feared he’d lost. Euan was in a debate with one of the other lads about the best source of steel for weapons, one arguing Spanish steel, another saying the French had good blades, but maybe they got them from the Spanish.
A little niggle of unease uncurled in Calum’s belly.
This was too close for comfort to the subject of the shattered sword that injured his eye.
He forced his attention to the other side of the table where two of the lads were debating the merits of several of the serving lasses.
Like most men, he enjoyed lasses, their company, their beauty, everything about them.
He didn’t need to compare them to appreciate them.
Still, he preferred listening to what these lads liked about them over discussing the merits of swords.
Until one of the lads stumbled over a name certain to ruin Calum’s good mood. “Janet…uh, Ella. Or Janet…”
Calum dropped his gaze to the tabletop and froze, not wanting to be seen paying attention to what they were saying, but wanting to hear the rest of the sentence.
He felt Kenneth shift beside him. So, Kenneth had heard it, too.
Did everyone know about Ella’s deception?
Did they all think him a fool for not realizing from the first moment who Janet really was?
Had everyone in the clan been lying to him?
Chuckles from that end of the table grated more than Calum could take. He stood and eyed the men. “What’s so amusing?”
The men turned to each other, guilt written plainly on their faces. “Ah, a bad jest,” one admitted.
“Why dinna ye share it with the rest of us, aye?” Calum goaded. He might as well find out what everyone really thought about him.
“Nay. ’Twasna that funny,” the man’s companion insisted.
“So, ye’ll laugh behind my back, but no’ tell me to my face, is that it?”
Kenneth reached up and put a hand on his arm. “Ye’re making too much of this, Calum. Sit and finish yer ale.”
Euan had risen to stand beside Calum when he first challenged the men. “They’re pished, Calum. Dinna pay them any heed.” He turned to the men in question. “The two of ye have had enough. Go on with ye to yer beds and sleep it off before ye cause any more trouble.”
When it looked like they would argue, Kenneth rose, too. “Enough lads. Take Euan’s advice before I have to make it an order.”
The resistance on the two men’s faces folded with Kenneth’s threat. They rose and walked away without further argument.
Both Kenneth and Euan turned to Calum and gestured him to take his seat.
“Finish yer ale,” Euan said again.
Calum shook his head and stepped away from the table. “I’ve had enough as well. I’m for finding my bed.”
Euan traded a look with Kenneth, then nodded. “Rest well, my friend. We’ll practice more on the morrow.”
Calum nodded and left them, his good mood fled, and the weight of all he’d been carrying firmly back on his shoulders. He could stomach a lot, even poor jests, but not their pity. Never that.