“Nay! Cease that talk right this minute. Such dark thoughts could mar the child in some way.”
Recovering from another contraction, Jennet was still able to smile. “I think that belief must be as foolish as the one I just mentioned. No need to look so fretful. I will only think of having this bairn and of how surprised Hacon will be when he returns victorious. He will have saved Dubheilrig and become a father in the same day.”
Hacon smiled despite his increasing exhaustion. Balreaves had indeed proved to be a skilled fighter, but he was not skilled enough. Hacon was tiring, but Balreaves was tiring faster. The man’s skin was gray and dripping with sweat. Despite the cover of Balreaves’s thick jupon and mail shirt, Hacon could see the man’s chest heaving as he labored for breath. Soon he would falter, make a fatal mistake. He allowed a pause in their constant parry and thrust, watching as Balreaves struggled to gather some strength.
“Ye have a choice, Balreaves,” he said, wanting to be sure he was not going to kill a man who would willingly give up.
“Choice? What choice? Death for trying to use the king to kill you, death for killing your little whore’s mother, or death for trying to kill you.”
“Ye could surrender. I would send ye to the king.”
“Oh, aye, there is mercy. Either I die at your hands or at his.”
“Ye could plead mercy. He may grant it. Ye may be but banished, exiled.”
“Without a farthing to my name? Nay, I think not. Let us end it here.”
“Where is the gain for you in that?”
“I dinnae intend to die, if that is what ye think.”
“Ye cannae win. Aye, ye have skill, but ye have let others fight your battles for too long. Ye have lost the strength and endurance ye need to beat me. Surrender, Balreaves, or die now.”
“If I die, I will take ye to hell with me.” He lunged toward Hacon.
For a few more moments they battled each other fiercely, but Balreaves’s renewed strength was born of desperation and faded fast. Hacon knocked back a savage sword swing, and Balreaves did not have the stamina left to absorb the blow. He staggered and lost his shield. Although he needed two hands to hold his weapon, he would not yield. Hacon’s next strike was blocked and the man fell to his knees. Balreaves raised his sword again and Hacon knew the man would force him to be his executioner.
The end came but a moment later. Hacon felt no real exultation as his sword pierced Balreaves’s heart. He had not felt the depth of hate nor the twisted bitterness that Balreaves had. The only real emotion he experienced was relief. Now there would be no more daggers slipping out of the shadows. He also had a sense of justice done, justice for Jennet’s murdered mother.
He glanced around and saw that the battle was won. A few of Balreaves’s men were secured as captives, the rest lay dead or nearly so. Hacon sat atop a battered-down section of the barmkin, thinking idly that the wall could be repaired, and smiled as his father approached. When his father returned the smile, Hacon knew that his mother, Murdoc, and Katherine were unhurt.
“Ye are free?” Lucais asked immediately.
“Aye, free and the Gillard name cleared of any taint. My wee wife could talk the devil into drinking holy water.” He smiled faintly when Lucais chuckled. “I will tell ye the whole of it later.”
“I am eager to hear it, as will be your mother.”
“Did we lose many?” he asked, as Lucais sat down beside him.
“Ere ye arrived—aye, five. Three men, a woman, and a child. Some may yet die, for they suffered some grievous injuries. Howbeit, in this last melee—nay. Not yet, leastwise. Again, some are sorely wounded.”
“Elizabeth is with us,” Hacon said. “Her skills and Jennet’s might stop the cost of this fight from growing.”
“They do have the healing touch. I grieve for those who died, dinnae mistake me. Howbeit, I also thank God they werenae kinsmen or old friends. They were some of the new folk who had joined with us and claimed our protection in these troubled times.”
“I understand. I am but sorry they didnae get all the protection they needed,” he murmured.
“Nay, dinnae feel guilty. They were weel fought for, but we were sorely pressed. Your fine tower house proved its worth, though I fear it was battered some.”
Hacon grimaced as he looked around. “’Tis not a pretty sight, but not beyond repair. If the weather holds good, we could still move in by fall or early winter. Dugald,” he called when he saw the man looking for him.
Dugald hurried over, sparing a brief glance for Balreaves’s body. “’Tis done then.”
“Aye, done. He chose this end, though I offered him a chance to surrender.” He shook his head. “He forced me to be his executioner, to carry out the king’s decree.”
“And to gain a swifter, cleaner death than many another would have granted. Most of his men chose the same.”
“Most?” Hacon tensed, eyeing Dugald with wary suspicion. “I see some were captured.”
