Peaceweaver by Rebecca Barnhouse Read Free Book Online Page A

to the atheling, the king’s son.
    Flat farmlands stretched before them, and in the distance, a dark line marked the Wolfholt, the frightening forest that bordered the kingdom on the east. Closer by, on the far side of the grassy area, a stand of birches danced in the breeze, their leaves flickering red to gold to red. The same breeze tugged at Hild’s hair and she pushed it out of her eyes. A harsh
caw
announced a raven that landed on a high branch, flapping its wings to steady itself. Another flew in just behind it and settled lower on the tree. “Look.” She pointed. “Odin’s watching us.”
    “Which one do you think is Thought and which one is Memory?” Arinbjörn asked, and Hild watched them for a moment, trying to decide. The birds’ black feathers shone in the red leaves against a piercingly blue sky. The scent ofhay from afar mingled with the odor of cow manure and the sharp smell of goat. Even if she’d had to leave her loom, she was glad she had come.
    When she turned, Arinbjörn had dropped into a fighting stance. She sank into the grass and leaned against a lichen-covered rock. The cold of its surface crept through her gown. She shivered.
    In front of her, Arinbjörn stretched out his sword. His footwork was fine, Hild thought as she brought a critical eye to his movements. But the way he held his sword … If
she
could see how bad he was, what must the other boys think?
    “Try raising the point,” she called, and he looked over at her.
    “Like this?”
    She caught herself just before she started to frown. Her features blank, she said, “Elbow closer to your body—don’t expose your flank.”
    He jammed his elbow into his side.
    It was all she could do to keep from sighing out loud. Arinbjörn was far from stupid. Why was it so hard for him to learn the basics of defense?
Because he’s growing so fast
, she told herself. He was like a foal becoming a horse, awkward and ungainly. The moment his muscles learned a move, his bones grew again, pushing him off-kilter.
As soon as his body catches up with the rest of him
, she thought,
he’ll be fine
. She’d seen it with her cousin Skamkel. But still, it was hard tobelieve Arinbjörn had forgotten everything she had practiced with him, the things her father had taught her. And had he learned nothing from his daily drills with the other boys?
    He stretched out his blade again, and once again, his position left him open to attack. Unable to restrain herself any longer, Hild rose and stood behind him, holding her arm parallel to his, making him mirror her moves. “That’s it, good,” she said.
    “It’s easy when you’re standing there, but when I have to spar with someone—”
    “Don’t move.” She walked to the boulders, where he’d set the other sword, and unsheathed it. “Point up,” she said, looking back at him. “Don’t let it waver.” She took her place in front of him, knees bent, her own blade just touching his. “Ready? Go.”
    He hesitated, so she attacked, hoping his arm would remember the defensive position. Instead, his blade came under hers, and before she knew what had happened, her own sword was spinning out of her grasp. She watched in astonishment as it landed in the grass a spear’s length away.
    She looked back at Arinbjörn, who caught her eye, then pounded his thigh with his shield hand as he staggered with laughter.
    Comprehension dawned. “You—you planned this, didn’t you?”
    He gulped for air and wiped at his streaming eyes, but he was laughing too hard to answer.
    Her hand went to her mouth; no need to let him see that she was laughing, too. She picked up her sword and strode back to him. “Get in position.”
    “Girls don’t fight,” he managed to say as another fit of giggling overtook him.
    “In position. Now.” She raised her sword.
    Trembling with amusement, he raised his own sword. The point was barely in the air before she attacked. It took him two exchanges this time to send her blade