“This is a football, Connell. The children will be placed on teams and they’ll throw it to one another while trying to outmaneuver their opposing teammates and bring it through the goals.”

“Truly?” he asked in surprise. “Do men play as well?”

“Aye.” Gwen laughed. “Men play this game as well. In fact, they probably enjoy it more.”

As she waited for the children, Gwen saw riders approach. It was Greylen and his men herding the cattle. They had removed their shirts and her husband began circling the animals, his voice thundering as he brought them closer to the corral behind the stables. He wore tight caramel-colored pants, rough leather boots, and a white band tied around his forehead. He looked like a cowboy—no, maybe a pirate. Ah, who the hell cares, either way, he was hot!

Once the animals were inside, the men handed their mounts to the boys who came to help. They sat on the fence, allowing the animals a few moments of peace.

“What will they do, Connell?” Gwen asked, watching the men drink from canteens, their legs swinging beneath them.

“They’ll inspect them for disease and injuries, then brand the young calves,” he explained. “We see to fifty or so at a time until all of the herds have been checked.”

“How many do you have?”

“You,” he corrected, “have over three hundred cattle, and close to fifty wild horses on the land.”

“Is that a lot?” she asked.

“In cattle, our numbers are low, but the horse count is high. Our men take good care of their steeds, and of the three hundred currently in use by soldiers, none show any signs of abuse.”

The children began filling the courtyard. Their mothers sat close to the keep, working on clothing or holding babies on their laps. Gwen explained the game to the boys and girls, while trying to divide them fairly. When she finished there were two teams of nine and cheering squads for each team.

It began as a mess, but as time progressed, the boys and girls took to the game. She told them only a touch from an opposing teammate would stop the play, and she watched carefully that no one became rough. Before long, the game was in full swing, and they learned to pass the ball and run like the dickens for the flags claiming a goal. The mothers and small children cheered for both teams, and Gwen saw that her husband and his men had come to watch as well. She smiled from across the courtyard, waving as Greylen returned her smile.

“May we join your game, wife?” he called over the field.

“Aye,” she called back. “But as long as the children play, a touch calls the play over.”

“Very well. Connell, join us.”