Robyn Tavington's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Robyn watched the men through the window of William's quarters, their posture loose, their voices carrying where they should not. She counted three soldiers leaning against the wall when they should have been drilling, and one laughing too loudly at something she could not hear. She pushed her chair back from the window and moved toward the door. William had meetings with the senior officers until evening, which meant the men thought no one was watching. But someone was always watching. She had learned that from him — that order required constant attention, that discipline was not something you demanded once and forgot. By midday she had requisitioned the empty officers' quarters near the parade ground, the one with the brick chimney and grand veranda. She positioned the crossed swords display in the entry hall where every man would see it when summoned. Outside, she had two corporals install the tall flagpole stand with its brass plaques listing military codes and penalties. The words gleamed in the sunlight: insubordination, dereliction, failure to maintain standards. When William returned that evening, she was waiting on the veranda. The men had already begun to straighten their uniforms, to lower their voices, to return to their posts. He looked at the building, then at her, and something passed between them that required no words. She had not asked his permission. She had simply done what needed doing, the way he would have. The reputation of the regiment — their family name — would not suffer because she had failed to act.