Free The Red Wolf's Prize by Regan Walker

not taken into
account their anticipation.
    Serena stood, legs apart, and pulled back the arrow,
changing her line of sight at the last minute to focus on the edge of the
target, not its center. When she let the arrow fly, a whooshing sound filled
the silence. The thwack of the arrow as it hit the wide edge of the target
echoed through the air. The stunned crowd looked on.
    A clear miss.
    She stepped back into the crowd, smiling to herself—until
she saw Maugris nearby, his blue eyes staring intently at her.
    Wiping the smile from her face, she scurried away. The old
Norman’s gaze haunted her. It was as if he could see right through her.
Dismissing her worries, she hurried to find Cassie so they could watch the last
rounds together when the best archers of the day faced off.
    Two more rounds eliminated all but four: Leppe, Sir Maurin,
the Red Wolf and another of the Norman archers. Each took a shot at the target.
Each hit the center.
    “Move the target back twenty paces!” shouted Sir Geoffroi
from the sidelines.
    The target was moved back and each man took up his stance.
The shots that followed were fired in rapid succession. The small wind picked
up to rustle the leaves of the trees nearby. Serena was disappointed to see
Leppe’s arrow hit off center this time, but was mollified when the Norman
archer’s shot also fell short of the center circle. Only the Red Wolf and Sir
Maurin remained. Their shots again hit the center of the target. This time,
even the faces of the villagers bore smiles.
    Upon the order of the Red Wolf, the target was moved back
another twenty paces. The tension grew palpable as all eyes fixed on the two
men standing next to each other, their eyes focused on the distant target.
    Cassie bit her lower lip and her hand gripped Serena’s
forearm. “’Tis exciting, no?” whispered her handmaiden.
    “Yea, it is. I only wish Leppe was still in the competition.
I’d like to see him beat the Normans.”
    Sir Maurin shot first. With a whoosh, his arrow flew to hit
the center. The crowd sighed in unison, “Ah….”
    “See if you can split the shaft,” urged Sir Geoffroi from
behind the Red Wolf loud enough for Serena to hear.
    The Norman lord took a deep breath. For a long moment he
watched the leaves of the trees, moved by the rising wind. Then, he narrowed
his eyes on the target like a beast focusing on its prey. “Aye, I shall.”
    With a whoosh, his arrow flew and a cracking sound echoed
through the open meadow as the Red Wolf’s arrowhead split the shaft of Sir
Maurin’s arrow. The crowd gasped.
    With a small smile, the Red Wolf turned to Sir Maurin.
“Would you try again?”
    “Nay, my lord.” Sir Maurin bowed in grand gesture. “I
concede and congratulate you.”
     
    * * *
     
    Renaud walked toward the place where he was to give out the
prizes, his pace slower than usual as he pondered the servant girl Sarah. She
had been quick to hurry away from the shooting line when her arrow failed to
achieve the target’s center. But something about the whole scene bothered him.
    As if reading his thoughts, Geoff leaned in to whisper.
“Ren, why do I have the feeling Sarah is better with the bow than her
performance today would suggest?”
    Renaud remembered the faces of the crowd gathered to watch
the match. “Mayhap it is because the English held their breath as she stepped
to the line, as if they expected something unusual.”
    Geoff’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “What is your meaning?”
    Renaud paused in his stride and looked at the blond knight.
“When she first began to shoot, they held their breath. I think they expected a
show. With her shot, their faces bore stunned disappointment. You had only to
look at them.”
    Geoff turned toward the mingling crowd of villagers,
servants and children who had come to witness the competition. “Ah…I remember
now. They walked away with downcast eyes. But Ren, though I did not doubt her
intent to kill Sir Hugue, even rising to defend another