The Brothers Lionheart
You’ll need to be that sometimes.”
He took me out to the stable, and in the harness room two bows were hanging. I realized that Jonathan had made them, for he was always making bows for the children in the yard at home in town. But these were larger and finer, very grand objects indeed.
We set up a target on the stable door and we shot at it all afternoon. Jonathan showed me what to do. I shot quite well, though not like Jonathan, of course, because he got a bull’s eye practically every time.
It was funny with Jonathan. Although he could do everything so much better than I could, he didn’t think that this was anything remarkable. He never boasted, but did everything almost as if he wished that I would do better than him. I got a bull’s eye once, I too, and he looked so pleased then, almost as if he had gotten a present from me.
When dusk began to fall, Jonathan said it was time we were on our way to the Golden Cockerel. We whistled for Grim and Fyalar. They ran free in the meadows outside Knights Farm, but when we whistled they at once came at full gallop up to the gate. We saddled them there and mounted, and then we rode at a leisurely pace down toward the village.
Suddenly I felt afraid and shy. I was not really used to meeting people, least of all people like those who lived here in Nangiyala, and I told Jonathan.
“What are you afraid of?” he asked. “You don’t think there’s anyone here who would harm you, do you?”
“No, of course not, but perhaps they’ll laugh at me.”
I thought that sounded silly when I said it, for why should they laugh at me? But I’m always imagining things like that.
“You know, I think we’ll have to start calling you Karl now, now that your name’s Lionheart,” said Jonathan. “Rusky Lionheart--that might make them laugh. You nearly laughed your head off yourself at that, and so did I.”
Yes, I wanted to be called Karl very much. It certainly suited my surname much better.
“Karl Lionheart.” I tried out how it sounded. “Karl and Jonathan Lionheart are riding here.