The Rose and The Warrior by Karyn Monk Page A

and scampered toward his eldest brother, who cast one last look of utter loathing at Roarke before melting into the shadows.

C HAPTER 4

    â€œThat’s it, Lewis…ye’ve almost got it…there, now! Bang her in, she’s as straight as can be!”
    Roarke watched as Lewis obediently positioned a nail over the damaged shutter, gave it a meek tap with his hammer, then withdrew his supporting hand.
    The shutter crashed to the floor.
    â€œFor heaven’s sake, lad, ye can’t expect to secure a heavy slab of wood with just one nail!” said Magnus, exasperated. “And ye must strike the nail as if ye mean to kill it, not as if ye’re trying to rouse it from slumber!”
    Lewis gazed down apologetically from his precarious perch of stacked benches. “Sorry.”
    Magnus sighed. “Never mind, lad. It’s not yer fault ye’ve no gift for fixing things. Climb down from there and let’s see if we can’t find something else for ye to do.”
    The great hall was teeming with men balancing on benches, tables, and chairs, their mouths crammed with iron nails as they awkwardly attempted to repair the damaged shutters dangling from the windows.
    â€œExcellent job, lads!” praised Magnus, who was directing the activity from the center of the hall. “A few more hours work here, and those wily MacTier dogs will never be able to breach the windows.”
    â€œForgive me, Magnus,” said Roarke, “but why are all these men working in the great hall when there are so many repairs to be done to the outside of the castle?”
    â€œI know ’tis a wee bit noisy, lad,” Magnus acknowledged apologetically, “but until we get that storeroom ready for ye, I’m afraid ye’ll just have to put up with us.”
    â€œI’m not complaining about the noise,” Roarke clarified. “I’m wondering why you aren’t securing the curtain wall and the gate instead of fixing a few broken shutters in here.”
    â€œThere are plenty of men working outside, make no mistake,” Magnus assured him. “And they’ve got matters well in hand. It may interest ye to know that we MacKillons have a long and splendid history of castle building—”
    â€œFor God’s sake, Ninian, can you not tell the difference between a nail
and a man’s bloody finger
!”
    Roarke glanced across the hall to see a short dumpling of a man with blazing cheeks standing on a table, angrily shaking his stubby hand in the air.
    â€œIf you’d only watch what you’re doing and keep your fat fingers out of my way, that wouldn’t have happened, Gelfrid!” snapped Ninian testily from his seat atop several unevenly stacked stools. His skin was stretched taut over the bones of his face, giving him a sallow, almost cadaverous appearance that perfectly complemented his shrunken build.
    â€œ ’Tis you who needs to watch what you’re doing,” blustered Gelfrid. “Any damn fool can see this is flesh and bone, not a piece of bloody iron!”
    â€œYou’d best let your wife take a look at that for you,” said a fellow with a wild flurry of red hair. “It may need to be splinted.”
    â€œI’ll be lucky if a splint is all that’s needed, Mungo,” Gelfrid complained irritably. “But while I’m at it, I’ll ask my Hilda to make a potion that’ll sharpen Ninian’s sight!”
    Ninian whirled around, waving his hammer. “There’s nothing wrong with my sight! You put your great, fat finger right on top of the bloody—” Suddenly his eyes grew round and he began to flap his scrawny arms in a vain attempt to regain his balance.
    Roarke winced as the poor fellow crashed to the floor.
    â€œThat must have hurt,” reflected Donald, who lay comfortably stretched out upon his pallet watching the MacKillons make their repairs.
    â€œ ’Twas nothing,” Eric