Free Thwarted Queen by Cynthia Sally Haggard

laid out his things on a piece of rough cloth. There was the bow, which was about five and a half feet long. There was the bow case, made of canvas. There was the leather quiver to hold the arrows, the arrows with their goose-feather quills, leather belts to tie the quiver around the waist, arm guards or bracers, and finger tabs to protect the fingers from the bowstring. There was also wax, silken thread, horn nocks and various tools for repair.
    At length, I came upon one that was very untidy. As I straightened up, my eyes met Blaybourne’s.
    “Yours?” I queried.
    He smiled.
    “You knew—”
    “I did not. I left it here just as you see.”
    I shook my head.
    “It is true,” he said, “I am naturally untidy. I am always losing things.”
    Another archer standing nearby agreed. “Yes, my lady. Untidy, that’s what he is.”
    Soon there was a chorus of nodding men.
    “How unfortunate,” I murmured, “for that means you win.”
    “How can that be unfortunate?”
    “It will make you unpopular,” I remarked, looking at the other archers who were staring at me expectantly.
    I raised my voice. “I am awarding two prizes. The first is the duke’s prize for the fastest and most accurate archer, who has the tidiest kit.”
    I beckoned to the scowling man who came forward, his face now wreathed in smiles, as I gave him a badge made in the likeness of Richard’s white lion. He pinned it onto his tunic with a flourish.
    “Next, I present the duchess’s prize for the fastest and most accurate archer who has the untidiest kit.”
    I pinned another emblem onto Blaybourne’s tunic. It showed a rose tree with a castle in the background. “It signifies the Rose of Raby, which is what folk called me when I was a girl,” I murmured.
    “I will treasure this with my life.” He took my hand and kissed each finger separately.
    My cheeks burned, for it reminded me of a gesture Richard had made when he’d come courting. Why was I being so foolish? My embarrassment was sure to set tongues wagging.
    Blaybourne nodded to the marshal, who came beside him and whispered something. The marshal signaled to the men from the garrison, and they departed in the direction of the castle. Then Blaybourne turned to the others watching. “Which of you ladies would like to try your hand at archery?”
    Isabel went first, but she needed no instruction.
    “How deft she is,” remarked Margaret. “I’d no idea she was so talented.”
    Then he bowed and asked Margaret to try.
    “I don’t know if I should at my age.”
    “My lady, you are not old,” he said, “and it will do you good.”
    He handed her his gloves and tied a leather arm guard on each arm.
    Margaret drew. The arrow hit the ground in front of her with a thud.
    “Try to look up, my lady. And pull to your ear.”
    This time the arrow whistled off and landed several yards away.
    The ladies clapped, but Margaret, breathing heavily, handed the bow and gloves back to the archer.
    “I do not wish to tempt fate,” she said smiling. “Let the others try.”
    Lisette went next. Turning her head sideways, she gazed up at him through her lashes while he gave instructions.
    “Lisette,” murmured Margaret.
    The arrow flew but landed only a yard or so away.
    “Oh dear,” remarked Lisette. “I don’t feel very stable. Perhaps if you were to steady my arm?”
    She gazed at him and crumpled to the ground.
    I took a linen napkin from a servant to wipe her face, which was now beaded in sweat.
    Margaret knelt beside her and gently unlaced her red gown.
    Bess laid a hand on her cheek. “She seems feverish. We should take her inside.”
    Lisette opened her eyes. “I don’t wish to go.”
    “You’re not well,” said Margaret.
    “I shall take her back to the castle,” said Isabel.
    She signaled to the servants, who helped Lisette to her feet and divested her of the gloves, arm-guards and bow he had given her. They placed her in a litter and took her back to the castle.
    Margaret