As they neared the place where she had been hiding, Jennet remembered her small sack of belongings, still tucked inside the hedge. She turned to tell Sir Niall she was just going to retrieve it and gasped. Swiftly closing in on him were two armed men. Even as she quickly backed away, she cried out a warning.
Sir Niall reacted with speed and skill, turning neatly and cleanly blocking the forward attacker’s sword swing. Jennet set Murdoc down and pulled out her dagger. She could see that Niall was a good fighter, that one of his assailants was timid and held back, but it was still two against one. At some point Niall might need help.
Briefly, she contemplated leaving Niall to his fate and running back to Boroughbridge alone. He had done little to deserve her help. Then she sighed, knowing that if he did not survive the attack, she would never forgive herself. She thanked God that neither of the men intent on killing Niall were ones she had come to know while in Boroughbridge. At least she did not have to face that moral dilemma.
The moment she had dreaded soon came. Seeing that Niall began to tire, the assailant who had held back grew bolder. The first few times the man flanked Niall, the Scot was able to counter the blows. But Jennet knew he could not continue to do so. As she edged closer, Niall cut down one of the men, but he did not turn fast enough to thwart the second man from neatly tripping him, sending him to the ground in a hard, awkward fall that left him gasping for air. Jennet did not wait to see if he would recover. She threw her dagger, and was both relieved and sickened when her aim proved true and the dagger pierced the assailant’s chest.
After a brief hesitation to be sure both attackers were dead, Jennet moved toward Niall. He was breathing and she saw no wounds worthy of attention, yet he remained sprawled on his back, his eyes closed. Even his breathing was more or less normal as she knelt by his side.
“Sir Niall,” she said, frowning down at him, “what ails you?” She tried and failed to keep all hint of impatience from her voice. The man could truly be hurt and the delay in reaching Hacon utterly necessary.
“Ye. Ye ail me, ye cursed woman,” he grumbled, opening his eyes to glare at her as he raised himself up on his elbows. “Ye should have stayed back, cowering off to the side like any other woman would.”
“Your display of gratitude is most humbling,” she snapped, quickly getting to her feet.
“Gratitude? What have I got to be grateful for?” He hissed a curse, rubbing various aches as he got up.
“How about for saving your miserable life?”
“I could have defeated those two fools unaided. Aye, with one hand.”
“Oh? How about whilst flat on your back unable to breathe?”
Niall cursed and resheathed his sword with abrupt, angry movements. “Aye, so be it. Ye saved my life.”
“Ye still dinnae sound verra grateful.” She wondered why it was so hard for him to admit that she had helped him.
“And why should I be? Ye have ruined everything,” he muttered as he went to search the slain men, collecting what few valuables they had, and retrieved Jennet’s dagger. “I cannae see much to be thankful for.”
“’Tis clear ye value your life far less than I do, which, in truth, isnae verra much.”
He wiped her dagger clean and handed it to her. “Sharp-tongued wench,” he muttered. “I was told ye had some wit, but ’tis clear ye arenae using it now. By what ye just did here ye took away my chance to gain any coin from your husband. Now I owe my verra life to you. Honor demands I return ye safely to Sir Hacon. Aye, safely and without demanding ransom.”
Shaking her head, she picked up Murdoc and started back the way they had come. “Weel, I cannae say I feel badly about that. Ye shouldnae have been planning such a thing anyway.”
“I would have been a foolnotto think of it. Where are you going?”
“To get my belongings. I left them behind when I had to run or be skewered by you.”
She set Murdoc down and retrieved her sack of belongings. As she did so she mused on how swiftly her situation had changed. Only a short while ago she had been huddled in the hedge afraid for her life; now she was squabbling with the man who had threatened it. Niall no longer frightened her. He was certainly jealous of Hacon, but he was no longer truly a danger to her. In fact, she thought with an inner smile as she gathered up Murdoc, Sir Niall reminded her very much of a rather petulant little boy.
“I should let ye find your own way back to your mon,” Niall snapped as he walked up to her, leading his mount. “I dinnae see any reason to do the work when I will gain no reward for it.”
“Is that the way a knight should treat the one who saved his life?” She fell into step beside him as he began to walk back toward town.
“Do ye intend to remind me of that fact for the rest of my days?”
“Mayhaps.” She had to bite back a smile when he cursed. “’Tis always good for a mon to feel a touch of humility.” The scent of smoke reached her and she sighed. “Did many die?” she asked.
“Nay, few chose to fight us.”
“Yet ye fired their roofs.”
“Aye. Ye cannae be sure there will be little fighting until ye are actually there. ’Tis best to attack each time as if resistance will be fierce and bloody.”
“Ye didnae perchance see a mon with eyes like mine and red-brown hair?”
“Nay. Why? Have ye lost more than your husband? Yearea careless lass.”
