Martha picked up archery quickly, much to her own surprise as well as her teacher’s. The steadiness and focus required to shoot accurately came easily to her, perhaps a result of the patience she’d cultivated as a princess, always required to sit quietly, never to rush. On top of this, she had a natural eye and an instinctive understanding of how to find and adjust her aim. Humphrey was impressed, and Martha was delighted to have pleased him and to have finally found something she was good at. After only a few lessons he determined she was ready to have a go shooting at live targets.
‘You mean animals?’ said Martha. ‘Killing animals?’
‘That’s the idea,’ said Humphrey.
Martha felt suddenly sick.
He took her deep into the woods, leaving Conrad and Elaine behind in the clearing where they had camped the previous night. He stood close behind her, both of them shielded by the trunk of an old chestnut tree, scanning for prey. She could feel his breath on her neck. Was it this that made her hands tremble and sweat, sliding on the bow so that even if she did have it in her to kill a living beast, the arrow would disobey her? Or was it that yet again she was going to fail in her task of assumed masculinity? Or was it both: his proximity, and the certainty of disappointing him?
‘I can’t,’ she said miserably.
‘Yes you can,’ said Humphrey. ‘You were doing fine on the targets.’
‘No it isn’t. It’s exactly the same.’
A stag appeared through the trees, handsome and strong.
‘Now,’ said Humphrey.
Martha, shaking, drew the bow. The stag turned his head, seeming to look her in the eye. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, not knowing whether she was speaking to the stag or to Humphrey. Either way, it was too late. In half a moment, the stag was gone.
‘You can’t hesitate, even for a second,’ said Humphrey.
‘I could see his heart beating through his skin.’
‘They all have hearts, you know.’
‘I know. But it’s not usually me who has to stop them.’
‘If you can’t kill a deer, what are you going to do if the Queen’s been taken prisoner and we have to fight our way through her captors?’
Martha imagined herself shooting arrows at Jasper’s captors. Then she imagined failing to shoot arrows at them, and Jasper being killed. ‘I’ll try again,’ she said.
They waited. After an eternity, a rabbit crept out of a patch of bracken. It was soft and brown, its fur like silk. It didn’t notice them, but hopped its way into a cool patch of the glade.
Humphrey nodded towards the rabbit. Martha raised her bow. The rabbit wrinkled its little bunny nose. Martha aimed her arrow at the rabbit. The rabbit nibbled on a blade of grass. Martha drew her bow. The rabbit did a shimmy with its ears.
‘I can’t,’ wailed Martha.
‘Oh, for crying out loud,’ said Humphrey, raising his own bow, but the rabbit had heard them, and bounced away out of sight.
‘It was too cute,’ said Martha.
‘Cute?’ said Humphrey. ‘Do you want us all to starve? Or are we not cute enough to live?’
‘We can go to the market and buy meat.’
‘You do know that meat has always been alive first?’
‘Of course I know.’
‘Well then, next time, you shoot.’
Nothing stirred for quite a while. Martha wondered whether this might be a good moment to ask Humphrey about the Table of Less Valued Knights. She’d been trying to find the right words for days, ever since Elaine had mentioned it. She still couldn’t believe that Humphrey belonged there. There must have been a terrible mistake, or maybe Elaine had misunderstood. She was formulating a question when suddenly they heard something crashing towards them through the trees, something big. Humphrey leapt to attention and pointed an arrow towards the sound.
‘Aim,’ he said, ‘but wait for it to get closer before you shoot.’
‘What is it?’ said Martha, raising her bow again, heart beating hard.
‘I don’t know,’ said Humphrey. ‘But it’s big.’
There was a flash of white through the bushes.
‘Cow?’ said Martha.
Humphrey shook his head. ‘Horse, I think.’
‘Well, don’t kill it if it’s one of ours,’ said Martha.
As the creature passed between two trees, they both got a good look at it.
‘Unicorn,’ breathed Humphrey, lowering his bow.
Unicorn! Martha didn’t wait another moment. She started to run. She couldn’t afford to let a unicorn anywhere near her. Unicorns sought out virgin maidens and laid their heads in their laps. Virgin maidens. Not virgin boys. Bloody animal! Why couldn’t it have gone for Elaine?
‘Marcus!’ shouted Humphrey.
‘I’m not running away!’ she yelled. ‘Don’t send Conrad! I will come back!’
She heard hoof-beats behind her, growing closer. The unicorn was drawn to her, as surely as a fleck of iron is drawn to a lodestone.
‘Piss off!’ she shouted at the creature.
The unicorn accelerated, galloping after her through the trees.
Trees. Unicorns couldn’t climb trees.
She spied a trunk with low branches, and started hauling herself up. The bow and quiver of arrows were getting in her way, but she was glad to be in men’s clothes, much easier than in a dress and heels.
At the foot of the tree, the unicorn stopped. It stared up at her, a soppy look on its face.
‘Go away,’ said Martha, grabbing a branch, hitching her leg up, pulling herself ever higher.
The unicorn leaned against the trunk of the tree and looked up at her lovingly.
Martha was nearing the top now. There was nowhere left to go except some thin branches that would not take even her slight weight. She sat on the highest of the firm branches and looked down. The unicorn was still gazing adoringly at her.
‘Get lost! I’m married.’
The unicorn was undeterred. It made a noise that sounded alarmingly like purring. For the first time ever, Martha wished she’d had marital relations with Edwin.
‘Go find Elaine! Elaine! She’s that way!’
Martha gestured with her bow. The unicorn continued to stare up at her with limpid eyes.
Maybe she could just climb down quickly and let him do it.
She heard Humphrey calling her. ‘Marcus! Where are you?’
What if it followed her back to camp? Unicorns were said to be loyal for life. How would she explain herself then?
‘Come back or I’m sending Conrad to kill you,’ shouted Humphrey.
That’s me, thought Martha. Caught between a unicorn and a hard place.
There was only one thing for it.
Martha smiled down at the unicorn. Unicorns don’t smile, but it looked up at her with a contented and trusting air. Martha shot it between the eyes, just beneath its alabaster horn.