“The truth is... that the arrow which pinned the horse-thief known as Black-John to the ground was not my own, but the arrow of Black-John himself!”

The rowdy crowd cried out in disbelief. But, at his best, Cormick was an expert at shifting the tide of his fellows in his favor.

“As I closed in on Black John, he turned and let fly an arrow poised straight for my heart! Time slowed to a halt; my life flashed before my eyes! My final thoughts were that of my dearest Arienne. What my mind could conjure in that brief moment before death, however, paled in comparison to the real thing, and I knew I had to see her once more! So, as the arrow closed in, I snatched it right out of the air and, without thinking, only acting, I notched the bow and took aim!

“The pressure was immense, for I knew the honor of House Webber was on the line, and with the assistance of my ancestor Nimrod Webber, I took the now legendary shot which stands trial here today! Time and again, I have told you and your brother true! That arrow I caught from the apex of its flight pinned the coward to the ground all the way to the fletching! I arced the shot from over thirty yards away with my long bow!”

“Horseshit!” Cormick’s posture visibly shrunk at the sound of his father’s voice.

Though his son was Godwin’s height, Cormick had inherited almost everything else from his mother Isabel. The big eyes, the tall forehead, the pouty lower lip, his long-limbed gangly height, all marked Cormick as his mother’s son. Gilbrand had been the spitting image of Godwin, in his time.

Having emerged from the armory, Godwin muscled his way through the crowd. “You all set aside your practices to listen to this buffoonery? Get!” 

The crowd dispersed, and Godwin turned to regard his son. “Caught from the apex of its flight? Lie about your deeds one more time and I’ll enlist you in the Blackguard. I’ve had enough of these capricious fancies.”

“No one else was determined to apprehend the thief!” Cormick snapped back. “Someone had to act!”

With a gloved hand, Godwin gripped his son by the neck and drew him close. “You are a disgrace not only to yourself, but to all Webbers. There will be no more of these lies.”

Having lost his voice, Cormick fought to hold back tears.

With a grunt, Godwin released Cormick and turned his back on all of them. “Spar amongst yourselves. I’ve had my fill.”

Sometimes Bradshaw forgot Godwin’s malice for the Lancaster’s who ruled the kingdom and occupied Monarch’s Keep. Bradshaw watched as Godwin passed by the killing stones on his way out through the castle’s gates.

“Arienne…” Cormick said, blinking away something in his eye. “You believe me, right?”

“I- of course, I believe you.” 

Bradshaw felt like an arrow had pierced his heart.

“You see?” Cormick gloated, his attitude recovered. “Your sister favors me, and there is naught that will come between us, let alone you, a wee sproutling. That’s all you are, a wee sproutling, while I am a great warrior who will own much land and father many sons with your sister. They will call me Lord Cormick Webber the Son-spawner!”

Bradshaw was not yet finished with Cormick. “You think your treachery in the woods on that night was the only one of your dark deeds I witnessed?” Bradshaw took another step toward Cormick, lowering his voice. “Last night, I could not find sleep because of a ruckus coming from the cattle pasture just outside my east facing window. Now imagine my shock at what I saw you doing under the cover of night with our biggest milk cow.”

Cormick, hearing this, turned as pale as milk. “Your dare not udder another word-”

“Then again, perhaps you will not come to be known as the Son-spawner. How do you like the ring of Cormick Webber the Suck-udder?”

“Cow milk has a natural warmth and flavor that is lost upon the glass! And you are but a wee sproutling, no one will believe you. You are a wee sproutling, and I am a great warrior!”

“No, you’re not!” Bradshaw retorted.

“Yes, I am!” Cormick reretorted.  

“No, you’re not!”

“Yes, I am!”

“No, you’re not!’

“Yes, I am!”

“Yes, I am a wee sproutling!” Bradshaw pivoted.

“No, you’re not! I am! Dah! Ou-twitted a-gain!”

Arienne stepped between them before their renewed verbal jousting reunited the curious crowd.  “Oh Cormick, stop these silly games with my brother!”

Cormick smirked at Bradshaw. “M’lady, it would be my honor to escort you this evening on a romantic stroll through the castle gardens.”

“Oh, would that I could, Cormick, but I merely stopped by the sparring grounds to see to Daniel Wilbur’s inflamed leg. Afterwards, the rest of my day shall be spent studying.”

There was real disappointment in Cormick’s eyes, but he kept it out of his voice. “I shall pay you a visit tonight at the library, then. Until that time, I will practice tirelessly to compete for your honor. No one other than my love shall don the Crown of Love and Beauty!”

“Oh, you are such a sweet thing!” She said just before kissing Cormick on the cheek.

“Oh, Arienne, your kisses are oh, so wonderful. Give me another kiss!”

Arienne kissed him again on the cheek, and Bradshaw felt himself scream from within.

“Okay, two more.”

She kissed him twice more.

“Another. Perhaps on the lips?”

This went on for some time.