Broken Arrow

opponent might.'

'What if my opponent has a semi-automatic?'

'Then you learn how to dodge bullets as well as swords.'

'This is pointless.'

'If it helps, think about it like Jedi training.'

Mark moaned. 'It doesn't. I was never a big movie fan, Jack, remember? I was more into sports — which is how I ended up following your career.'

Jack smiled at the reference to his time on the wrestling circuit. 'Still my number one fan, eh?'

'Depends.'

'On what?'

'On how long I have to keep doing this shit for.'

Jack clipped him around the ear. 'That's cos Robert's not here, or he'd have done the same. It's not grown up to cuss like that.'

Mark let his shoulders sag.

'Look, tell you what: Azhar, toss Mark your sword a second.'

The soldier threw his wooden sword over to the boy, who almost dropped it.

'Okay, now you're armed. He's not. Think you can take him?'

Mark grinned, swinging the sword to test its weight. It was payback time. He stepped into the area of combat, while Jack watched from the sidelines. Azhar hunched down low and matched Mark's circling movements, eyes flitting from his enemy's face to his hands. Mark swung the sword experimentally. He'd practised before with one of these, sneaked away when no one was looking to get the feel of what it was like. He'd taken on trees and fences, fancied himself as pretty good too — not in Azhar's league, of course, but given enough time… Except Azhar didn't have the sword anymore, did he? Now the advantage was all Mark's.

He came at Azhar, swinging left and right. The darker-skinned man moved like a cat, making sure the sword never came within three feet of his body. Mark gripped the weapon with both hands, bringing it up in an arc which would ordinarily have caught his opponent beneath the chin — but Azhar had already leaned back. The difference between his move and the one Mark attempted earlier was that Azhar was soon upright again.

Mark showed his teeth, in an effort to put Azhar off, but there was absolutely no reaction. This made him even angrier. He swung the blade this way and that, as he figured he was bound to strike something sooner or later — an arm, a leg… a whack in the head might be nice in return for all the pokes and prods.

He hit nothing.

Mark was on his final swipe — Azhar right in front of him — when suddenly the man wasn't there anymore. He was at Mark's side, having dropped and slid around, and was relieving Mark of the sword, grabbing his wrists and wrenching the weapon free. In seconds Mark was again on the wrong end of the tip, which was hovering between his eyes.

There was laughter coming from somewhere. At first Mark thought it was Jack again, but it wasn't deep enough. When Azhar stepped back Mark turned and saw Dale sitting on the steps to the East Terrace. He had his guitar with him, and was shaking his head, clapping his thigh at the sight of Mark's defeat.

'Nice one, Marky. You had him right where he wanted you,' Dale brought his guitar around and started to play a melody, making up words on the spot.

'You try your best, put to the test,

But let's face it now you need a rest.

Can't be easy, ohhh, it can't be easy…

'Give it your all, but when you're small,

You find out life just ain't no ball,

Can't be easy, ohh, it just can't be that easy…'

'Shut up!' shouted Mark, but Dale continued playing. Mark turned and saw that some of the other men training had stopped to listen.

'He's just a child playing at bein' a man,

It's hard and he don't know if he can.

Oh, it ain't easy… It simply ain't that easy…'

Mark's eyes narrowed and he marched towards Dale. 'I said shut up!' Azhar came up behind to try and stop him, but Jack put a hand on his arm. This had been a while coming and the last thing Mark needed was anyone interfering.

'What's the problem, Marky-boy?' answered Dale, resting his guitar against the wall and standing to meet him. 'It was just a joke. What's the matter, can't you take a-'

Mark grabbed him by the collar, swinging him around and onto the pavement between the steps and the field. He pulled back his fist, then struck Dale squarely in the face, making his nose bleed. Dale brought a couple of fingers up, touched the nostrils, and when they came away red he glared at Mark. 'You little sod, look what you did.'

'Want some more?'

Dale ran forwards, dragging Mark back onto the field. They slipped, then rolled over several times on the snow.

'Let them work it out,' Mark heard Jack saying as they rolled past him and Azhar. 'Bit of old fashioned wrestling never hurt anyone.'

On the final roll, Dale landed on top of Mark, pinning him down. He brought his fist back, ready to retaliate, when there was a cry to their left.

'Dale… Mark…' It was a female voice, too young to be Mary's. Mark recognised it instantly. So did Dale.

'What's going on?' asked Sophie as she made her way down the steps.

'Some other time,' Dale said to Mark, tapping him on the cheek.

Mark wrenched his head away and spat back: 'Any time.'

'Jack, what's happening here? Why didn't you break the training up when it was getting too rough?' Sophie said.

The big man held up a hand in mock surrender. 'Hey there, little lady, it was nothing to do with me.'

'Wait till Mary hears about this,' she told him.

Dale was up and walking over towards her, wiping his bloody nose. Already, Sophie was pulling a tissue out of her winter coat to dab at it. 'Look at you… You should know better. He's only just starting out.'

'Yeah,' Dale replied, looking back at Mark. 'I'm sorry, mate.' He grinned as he let Sophie clean up his face.

'You should go easy on him. Come on inside, let's get you cleaned up properly.'

Mark stared in disbelief as Dale grabbed his guitar and trotted off back up the steps with Sophie. Go easy on me! Go easy? I nearly bloody well broke his nose! He got up just in time to watch the pair disappear from view.

Jack placed a hand on his shoulder. 'All's fair in love and war.' He said the words as if distracted.

Mark followed his gaze and saw he was looking towards the far end of the Bailey, where a woman with short, dark hair was walking past. It was the woman who'd arrived with Jack and Robert the other day. Adele. She'd gone off with Jack then to have a tour of the castle and its grounds, but it was Robert she'd had eyes for — much to Mary's chagrin.

'I'll remind you of that sometime,' Mark said bitterly.

'Hmm… What?'

'Nothing,' sighed Mark. Adele disappeared from view and Jack brought his attention back to his pupil.

'You up to carrying on with your training, or do you need to take a time out?' Even before Mark could open his mouth, Jack said: 'Good, that's good, kid. Azhar, he's all yours again.'

With that, Jack was off up the walkway, heading in the direction he'd seen Adele going. 'I'm… I'm not a kid,'