The Robber Knight

09. Push and Pull

“Don't!” he said, breathing heavily. “Don't ever do that!”

“D-do what?” she asked, after a moment.

“Pull on arrows! You have no way of knowing if they have barbs!”

“Barbs?”

“Sharp hooks on the arrowhead that are designed to keep the arrow where it is. If you try to pull out an arrow with barbs, it'll tear your flesh open and you won't get it out anyway. You'll die from internal bleeding.”

He saw her swallow and try to get a hold of herself again. Part of him admired her guts, wanted to speak more softly to her, but the part of him that knew this little girl could just have killed him in a heartbeat was far bigger and angrier.

“I didn't know that,” she said, softly. Her eyes were watery, but the tears didn't spill over.

“Well now you do,” he growled. “And woe betide you if you don't remember it well!”

That drove the moisture from her eyes and made them narrow in a glare. Apparently, she didn't take kindly to being threatened.

“How does a merchant know so much about arrows?” she asked, suspiciously.

Reuben cursed himself for not thinking of a better profession for himself. But then he had an idea. “Every merchant has to know about the wares he buys and sells,” he answered curtly, hoping that would satisfy her. “Now get on with it.”

“Well, how am I supposed to get the arrows out if I'm not allowed to pull?”

He rolled his eyes. Typical woman. “Well, if you can't pull, what else can you do?”

“Push?”

“Yes.”

“But that would mean pushing the arrows right through your flesh! Through your entire chest and out the front!”

“Obviously.”

“It'll hurt,” she pointed out.

“Maybe.”

“Probably it'll hurt quite a bit,” she continued, thoughtfully, apparently beginning to take a liking to the idea. “It might even be torturous.”

Reuben smiled. She had no idea.

“It'll be all right,” he said, in a superior tone, which of course only egged her on.

“You'll have to promise me not to scream or flinch if the pain gets too much for you,” she said, sweetly. “After all, I'll have to concentrate on what I am doing. Do you think you can do that for me, brave man?”

“I think I'll manage.”

“We'll see.”

He could almost hear the anticipation in her voice and had to hold his hand over his mouth to stop himself from chuckling. Nothing remained of the anger he had felt a minute ago. This was going to be amusing.

She gripped the first arrow, a lot more forcefully than the first time.

“Break off the end, first,” he suggested merrily. “So that it doesn't get stuck in there. I'd hate to walk around with goose feathers in my torso for the rest of my life.”

Without comment, she placed her other hand on the shaft and tried to break it. The tough wood bent, but only a little.

“Too much for you?” he asked with a smile.

“No,” she grunted.

“You could get help.”

“No!”