Callum just smiled again but before Brian could demand the man give his word not to go after Lucette, Sigimor’s battle cry rent the air. The gates were swung open and Brian had a brief glimpse of the horrified looks on the faces of the Frenchmen before he fixed his gaze on Lucette and charged.
It did not surprise Brian when Lucette attempted to turn and flee. Any man who beat a woman usually proved himself a coward when faced with a man. He rode in front of the man, cutting off his retreat. Lucette quickly proved himself a poor rider as well, yanking on his mount’s reins until the horse reared and tumbled Lucette into the dirt. Brian was down and facing him by the time Lucette scrambled to his feet.
“I surrender!” cried Lucette, and fumbled to pull his sword out of its sheath.
Brian was briefly tempted to just kill the fool and turn away to help the others. He watched Lucette carefully, however, for the man could be acting inept in order to lull him into a dangerous sense of ease. Although it was hard to believe anyone could act that well.
“There is nay surrender for ye, Lucette,” Brian said. “Ye die here.”
“Ye can keep the boys and that bitch.”
“I intend to. But, I am thinking ye ken too much to be allowed to go back home. And ye dug your own grave the first time ye struck Arianna.”
Lucette drew his sword and the way the man did it, his eyes narrowing, told Brian he had been right to be cautious. He had no doubt he would defeat the man but was pleased to see that it might well be a fight instead of an easy kill. Brian wanted Lucette to sweat before he died.
When Lucette attacked, Brian was ready for him. He was a little surprised at the skill the man revealed but then fixed his mind on ending Lucette’s life. Lucette proved nimble and it was not long before they were both bleeding from several small injuries. But Lucette was already weakening, sweat stinging his eyes and his chest heaving with the effort to breathe.
“You do not even understand the worth of what you fight for,” Lucette said as he and Brian circled each other. “Those whelps are related to the king of France. They need to go back to claim their heritage.”
“All ye want to give them is death, Lucette.” This time when their swords clashed, only Lucette bled.
“You could make a fortune off them, fool.”
“Mayhap, but I still want ye dead.”
“For the sake of that stupid bitch? My brother did not even linger in her bed the few times he did what he had to to please our parents. He found the attentions of a coarse village whore more entertaining than Lady Arianna. Or do you think to get the dowry that she had? Too late. It is gone.”
“I will leave the settling of that to the Murrays. All I want is to kill the coward that beats women half his size.”
Lucette bellowed out his fury and frustration and charged. It was not hard to use that blind anger against the man. After a furious clash of swords, Brian quickly cut the man down. He was standing there, panting a little, and staring down at Lucette’s body when a warning cry drew his attention. He started to turn toward it and the man attacking him from behind caught him in the side instead of through the back. The cold fire of steel in his side nearly brought Brian to his knees, but he held firm and easily cut the other man down.
Chaos ruled all around him. Breathing slowly and deeply, Brian fought the pain as he studied the battle. Some of the Scots were slipping away, retreating as fast as they could. He could see that Sigimor and his men merely kept an eye on any of the hired swords who looked to be escaping the trap, but held all the Frenchmen firmly within the berm.
Determined to hold fast until it was over, Brian began to make his way to where Sigimor, Callum, and Harcourt were cutting down the French guard around DeVeau. DeVeau showed far more skill than Lucette but he was clearly tiring. By the time Brian was close enough to hear what little was being said, DeVeau stood with only two men and was trying to bargain for his life.
“Wait,” Brian said as he moved to stand next to Sigimor.
“Thought ye wanted all the Frenchmen dead,” said Sigimor.
“I certainly have nay trouble ending the life of a DeVeau,” said Harcourt.
“I ken it, but why add to the feud when ye may nay have to? It is a feud that has grown cold. Killing another DeVeau could change that,” said Brian. “Ye ken why we want ye all dead?” he said to DeVeau.
“So that the children remain lost,” said Lord Ignace.
“Aye, so that this threat to them ends here. Now, which Lord Ignace are ye? The winemaker or the torturer?”
“Ah, the winemaker. The name is a curse but fortunately I travel to few of the places where my notorious cousin has been.”
Brian believed him. “Then ’tis up to ye whether it ends with ye walking away or being buried.”
“Naturally, I would prefer to walk away.”
The man was a lot younger than Brian had thought, even though he now knew him to be the winemaker. He doubted Lord Ignace was much older than Ned. If the DeVeaux knew of the value of the boys, surely they would have sent someone older and more experienced, he thought. One who would not have ended up in what, to an experienced warrior, was an obvious trap.
“How many of your people ken the truth?”
“Three. Me, my uncle, and my mother. When Lucette came to us, he spoke mostly with my mother so I am not exactly certain how much my uncle knows. My mother does not like or trust my uncle. My uncle, he prefers to work with the grapes.”
