’Twasalmost too easy for Ramsay to persuade Rufus that he faltered.
Ramsay let the flail bounce off his shoulder the first time, knowing it damaged the plate but would grant him no more than another bruise. He had moved in time to avoid most of the weight. Still, he dropped to the ground and moaned, knowing that Rufus would not let such an opportunity pass. From that point onward, he favored the shoulder as if it was more damaged than it truly was.
He permitted Rufus to strike a blow on his thigh, as well, one that similarly was less lethal than it appeared. After that, he limped and used only his right arm, rising to his feet in challenge but slowly. They lunged at each other then, the flails wrapping around them so that they stumbled like drunken dancers. Rufus fell and Ramsay punched him.
Rufus swept out one leg to knock Ramsay’s feet from beneath him, then bounded to his own feet as Ramsay fell hard. Ramsay pretended to be winded by the fall and did not immediately rise. Instead, he groaned and slowly rose to his knees like a wounded man.
He saw the flail silhouetted against the sky and dove out of its path in the last moment so that it descended to the ground right beside him. Just as Otto predicted, Rufus was left momentarily undefended as the flail head was falling. Ramsay lunged to his feet, swinging his own flail so that it struck Rufus across the shoulder. That man stumbled and fell to one knee then swung his flail again.
Ramsay ducked as the pointed head of the weapon continued over his head in a broad arc, but he had no space to swing his own. Instead, he jammed the end of the haft hard against his opponent’s groin.
Rufus roared and ensured that his flail continued in a circle, then gripped the haft with both hands to spin it harder before aiming at Ramsay’s head. Ramsay swung his own and the chains tangled from the two weapons, the momentum tugging both knights off their feet. Ramsay knew he tired quickly, both from the weight of the weapon and the heat of the sun.
This had to be resolved and soon, if ’twas to be in his favor.
On impulse, he let Rufus wrench the haft from his hands so that he was left unarmed. The other knight kicked Ramsay’s weapon to one side as he swung his own, clearly intent upon finishing what had been started.
The company leaned forward, intent upon the fight.
Ramsay managed to get to his feet, then staggered. He looked up, as if unable to avert his gaze from the falling blow, then once the studded ball began to drop, he deliberately stumbled out of harm’s way.
Once again, the flail struck the ground a mere finger’s breadth from his head. The two knights grappled for control of the weapon, and Rufus wrenched the haft from Ramsay’s grip. He kicked Ramsay in the chest and Ramsay fell backward, spread-eagle on the ground and motionless.
Rufus cast off his helmet in a triumphant gesture. His hair was damp with sweat but his eyes were alight with satisfaction as he lifted the flail with purpose.
“Nay!” Lady Haynesdale cried.
“He is defenseless,” Lord Haynesdale added.
“À outrance,” Rufus snarled, the flail swinging over his head.
Evangeline gasped audibly. “Nay!” she cried.
Ramsay saw Rufus glance her way. It was just as he had anticipated. Rufus meant to see her expression as he triumphed. He wanted to witness the moment of her disappointment, to see the realization that he had stolen what she held most dear.
The other knight was distracted by Evangeline.
’Twas perfect.
Ramsay made a miraculous recovery and soared to his feet, seizing his own flail and driving the haft hard into Rufus’ groin. Rufus turned to stare at him in amazement even as the ball of his weapon began to descend. There was a familiar whistle, then Rufus choked in surprise. The ball hit the ground then Rufus dropped his flail as he staggered backward.
’Twas then that Ramsay saw the bolt in the other man’s throat. He stared at it, not comprehending how it could be there, for he had no crossbow.
For a moment, the two knights stared into each other’s eyes, Rufus making an incoherent sound that might have been astonishment. Perhaps he tried to say something, but only blood fell from his lips. His eyes dulled while Ramsay watched and he crumpled to the ground as his blood continued to flow. Rufus rolled to his side and coughed, the pool of blood around him spreading wider as he stilled.
But the bolt made no sense.
Ramsay looked up as Evangeline ran toward him. “Ramsay!” she cried, his name so filled with relief that his own heart clenched hard.
Thrice this lady had saved him! Though he believed he would have saved himself this last time, he did not mind being in her debt.
Ramsay would do all he could to ensure Evangeline’s happiness, but acknowledged in that moment, that her goal might not be to remain with him. He was keenly aware in that moment that she had made no sweet confession to him and he had no certainty of what lurked in her heart. She might have defended him solely out of her sense of justice, as she might have defended any creature so cornered.
But Ramsay would neither dishonor his lady by telling others of their wondrous night together, nor compel her to remain by his side.
He loved her sufficiently to let their ways part, if that would bring her joy.
He realized all of this in the heartbeat it took her to reach him, and so ’twas bittersweet when she cast himself into his arms.
