The air was full of the sounds of arrows being released from the powerful bows, zinging through the sunlight to thwack into the straw. Each youth had a quiver on his back, a special belt with a socket for the arrow to be loaded, and a leather glove to protect his firing hand. Edward was over-seeing the practice, signalling when the latest volley of shots had been completed and the excited boys could run to their group’s target to see the evidence of their marksmanship. Stars that had been pierced were proudly removed and labelled as proof of expertise, although there were few of these for the central star was small and difficult to hit.
Kestrel was in his element. He was a strong archer, very accurate, and at eighteen this was his final year to compete for the honour of being the Archer of Imbolc. He’d done it last year and fully intended to win again this year. He was an almost archetypal figure, tall and strongly built, handsome and youthful. His powerful arms pulled back the string and made an extended line with his tilted jaw. His back rippled with sinew and muscle; legs apart and slim hips twisted, his chest opened up when he aimed and his blue eyes held the gleam of victory. He loved the attention of the girls watching and the admiration of the other boys. He wasn’t showing off – he knew he was the best there and was merely enjoying his position of supremacy.
Not all the youths took part as some were no good at archery and others just not interested. Sweyn and Gefrin were two such as this, but they stood with Kestrel’s group watching and praising him. Jay and Swift were taking part, both being reasonably adept if not in Kestrel’s league. Jay found failure difficult; if his arrow missed the straw target altogether he’d become angry and abusive and find some excuse for missing.
Swift was a better sportsman and accepted his poor shots with equanimity even though success mattered to him. He was very aware of the crowd of girls hanging around his archery group and knew they must find Jay’s aggressive bluster very trying. So Swift only laughed if he missed, flicking his fringe and looking sideways at the girls, and going for their sympathy. Kestrel caught one such exchange and thought again that he must watch Swift, who was becoming a bit too popular for his liking.
‘Stop showing off, Swift!’ he said loudly. ‘And where’s Sorrel anyway? You shouldn’t be making up to all these girls, not when you’re walking with someone. These little beauties are all mine, aren’t you, girls?’
There was much giggling and wriggling at this, all eyes back on Kestrel again which was how he liked it. In fact most of the girls watching had been his at one time or another and they all knew it. Swift gave him a long look, his grey-blue eyes slightly narrowed.
‘Sorrel’s helping her mother set up the lunch for us,’ he replied. ‘And I’m not walking with her – we may do in the future but not at the moment.’
‘Oh go on, Swift!’ said one of the girls. ‘You know she’s mad about you and you went with her at Yule for your Rite of Adulthood. She thinks you want to walk with her.’
‘I might do. I’m thinking about it,’ he replied, smiling charmingly.
‘You should,’ said Kestrel. ‘She’s good and I should know – broke her in myself.’
‘Kes!’ shrieked the girls.
Swift eyed him carefully then pulled an arrow from his quiver, nocking the fletching into the bowstring.
‘So you did,’ he said evenly. ‘And what a good job you made of it.’
‘Naturally,’ laughed Kestrel. ‘It’s what I do best, isn’t it, girls?’
Jay scowled at the pair of them; no girls were interested in him at all. He was too belligerent and his clumsy, arrogant overtures made girls run off in alarm. He’d had slightly more success at college where he wasn’t so well known but Stonewylde girls were very wary of him, particularly with his family history.
The practice was drawing to a close and the boys had been given ten minutes’ notice of lunch in the Barn; after that would come the actual competition to determine the Archer. The youngest boys there, at fourteen, knew they wouldn’t be picked but it was good to practise now to improve their chances when they were older. Just to get one arrow in the star was a great achievement and the little