She lurched and floundered through the course and finally staggered up to him, covering the last ten metres on her hands and knees after she fell, seeing with relief that there were a few grains remaining in the upper half of the sandglass. She slumped full length on the ground.
“Up,” Will said briefly and she groaned as she dragged herself to her feet.
“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked piteously.
He regarded her for several seconds before he answered. “I’m not doing this to you, Maddie. The wine is. Bear it in mind.”
She stood, exhausted, hands on her hips, head hanging low. “I’m never going to drink wine again,” she said.
He continued to study her. “Let’s hope not.” Then he turned towards the cabin, gesturing for her to follow. She trudged behind him, head aching, stomach roiling once more. The dreadful taste was back in her mouth.
As they stepped up into the cabin, she became aware of a familiar smell. Familiar, but now strangely attractive. It was the rich aroma of fresh coffee. While she had completed the course, Will had returned to the cabin and brewed a pot. He sat her down now and poured a cup, placing it before her.
“I don’t drink coffee,” she said automatically. But the enticing smell was filling her nostrils and she wondered if maybe she was mistaken. Will added milk and several spoonfuls of dark honey, stirred it and handed it to her.
“Drink it,” he ordered and she wondered briefly if this was a further part of her punishment. Then she sipped at the hot, sweet drink, feeling it course through her weary body, easing her throbbing head, revitalising her, refreshing her with its wonderful, restorative aroma and rich taste. She sipped again, deeper this time, then put her head back and sighed appreciatively.
“Maybe I could get used to this,” she said.
Will raised one eyebrow. “There might be hope for you yet,” he said.
Twenty-five
Somehow, maddie got through the rest of that gruelling day.
She showered again in the wash house. This time, she had time to light the little stove so that the water was hot when it cascaded down on her. She gasped and spluttered as she tipped the bucket to send water gushing down on her. But the hot water on the back of her neck helped to dispel that dreadful, pounding headache.
By the time she towelled off and dressed in fresh clothes, it was only a dull remainder of its former self.
Will watched her as she walked back from the wash house. He felt that perhaps she had learned her lesson. Hangovers had a way of teaching people that drinking alcohol was not a good idea. After working her so hard in the morning with the log splitting and the obstacle course and the archery practice, he relented somewhat and gave her an easier afternoon. He set her to the task of doing their laundry—she had gone through two changes of clothes that day and her discarded garments were stained with sweat, and worse. She also had to repair the rip in the knee of her tights and wash away the dried blood there. Then he introduced her to the Courier’s code—based on a grid of letters—and set her several exercises to do.
The figures on the page blurred in and out of focus a little, and the headache surged again as she concentrated on them. But all in all, it was preferable to the violent exertions of the morning.
Maddie finished a set of code exercises and handed them to him. He went through them quickly, made a few corrections, then grunted. She was a little disappointed. Normally when she did well on an assignment—and she felt she had done well on this one—he would mutter a few words of praise.
But not today.
I’ve lost his trust, she thought miserably, and she wondered if they would ever attain the level of warmth that had been beginning to develop between them. Probably not, she thought glumly.
They had one bout of contention that afternoon. The sun had sunk below the trees and Maddie lit the three oil lamps that provided light to the cabin. As she adjusted the wick on the final one, Will spoke.
“There’s one thing,” he said. “I want the names of your companions last night.”
She looked up fearfully. His face was grim and determined. But she couldn’t comply with his order.
“I… I can’t do that,” she said. “I don’t care if you punish me, but I won’t betray my friends.”
He studied her grimly for several seconds, then he nodded slowly.
“Well, I applaud your loyalty to your friends, if not your wisdom,” he said. “But I assume it wasn’t you who procured that cask of wine last night?”
She shook her head. She felt she could go that far without betraying the others. But she wasn’t going to tell him who had brought the cask to the party.
“Whoever did should be punished,” he said and she shook her head once more.
“I’m not going to tattle on them,” she said.
“Hmmm,” he said grimly. In truth, he didn’t need her to tell him the names. It would take him less than half an hour to find them. The faces of the three were imprinted on his memory. He would know them when he saw them, and he would report them to their parents. They needed to be disciplined, just as Maddie had been.
But he was pleased that she hadn’t tried to curry favour with him by informing on them. The loyalty might be misguided, but her refusal showed a strength of character.
“You have to realise, Maddie, that as Rangers we need to maintain a certain sense of… aloofness from people.”
She cocked her head. “Aloofness?” she queried.
“There’s a mystique about the Rangers,” he told her. “And we need to maintain it. You need the respect of those around you. It’s fine to have friends, but let’s say one day you need to discipline one of those kids who was with you last night. Or order them to do something. You need them to think of you as Maddie, the Ranger, and obey you immediately, without thinking. They can’t see you as Maddie, the silly girl who fell down drunk with them one night.”
She considered this. “You’re saying I can’t have friends?”
He started to say no, then reconsidered. “In a way, yes, I am. You can be friendly with them, but you can’t let them become too familiar with you. It’s one of the sacrifices we make as Rangers. Our friends tend to be other Rangers.”
“But my mother and father are your friends,” she pointed out and he nodded, accepting the point.
“Our friendship was forged through a lot of dangerous times. We had to depend on each other and trust each other. My life was often in your father’s hands. And your mother’s,” he added. “That’s a better basis for friendship than sneaking around drinking stolen wine behind the stables.”
“I suppose so,” she said. She could see his point. She enjoyed the prestige and respect she had earned as a Ranger’s apprentice. She had seen how people looked up to her. And she could see how a stupid escapade like the night before could destroy that respect.
“It’s time to grow up, Maddie,” he said.
“I suppose it is,” she replied.
She went to bed early that evening, shortly after they had finished a simple meat of grilled beef strips and boiled, buttered potatoes. Will also prepared a salad of some bitter green leaves, lacing it with a light, astringent dressing.