From the field of dead Yorkists, a hero stumbled towards me, his sword aloft. I squinted through my helmet, trying to get a clear view. I didn’t recognise the man. Who had they selected to do battle with de Valois?
“Hello, Dub-Dub,” the soldier said, ripping off his helmet.
“You have got to be kidding,” I said, removing mine too. “Horatio, what are you doing here?”
All the fun of the moment had instantly evaporated, replaced by the stink of mutual contempt. We circled each other, our swords raised.
“It was the only way I could get to speak with you.” He lifted his sword and drove it down towards me. I deflected it easily.
“And now I get to kill you. Did you think this through, Horatio?” I swung around, giving him the full weight of my sword against his—and his clattered to the ground. “Fighting Richard de Valois is meant to be an honour. How did you convince everyone to let you do it?”
“It turns out they all wanted to see me murdered as enthusiastically as you do,” he said, hand scrabbling for his hilt. “Bit crushing for the old ego, to be honest.”
“What do you want?” I drove my sword into the ground between his legs, inches from his cock. The crowd roared. He looked up at me, astonished.
“You know what I want.”
“I’m not selling the estate.” I pulled my sword free and walked away, giving him time to get to his feet. “Not to become a hotel, and especially not if it means you get your hands on the village.”
“My buyers have put their offer up again. You could walk away with at least fifty million in your pocket after you’ve paid all your father’s debts.”
“I’m not selling.”
“Don’t be stupid, Dub-Dub.”
I turned and ran towards him, sword aloft, and brought it down right above his head. Horatio barely had time to block it before I split his skull in two.
“Are you sure?” He twisted away from me.
“I’m sure.” We circled each other, swords at the ready.
“I had a reporter fromThe Bulletincome to speak to me the other day. He was asking some very interesting questions about you and Peter. What would all these people think if they found out you’d been lying to them?”
I swallowed—then gritted my teeth and adjusted my grip on my sword.
“You don’t get to threaten me, Horatio.”
He scowled and hunched his shoulders. “Not enough to convince you? Then what if I tell them all about Peter’s whoring instead.”
Rage erupted out of me like lava. I swung at Horatio’s feet, and he stumbled back onto the dirt. The crowd cheered.
“If you sell now, they never need to know. You can leave with your head still held relatively high.” He dug his heels into the ground and slid backwards across the grass like a crab.
“I will never sell.”
He tried to get to his feet, but I knocked him back on his arse with my foot. He hadn’t expected physical contact, and anger flared in his eyes.
“Youwillsell the estate, Dub-Dub. Buckford Hall is going to become a hotel. It’s what my father wants—and my father always gets what he wants in the end. You just have to decide how much humiliation you can withstand until he does.”
I swung my sword around, preparing to strike, but stopped as realisation dawned. I looked into my old school bully’s eyes, his face contorted with fury.
“How much humiliation have you had to withstand at the hands of your father, Horatio?” I asked.
A flash of recognition. For a second, the mask dropped. I’d seen him and he knew it. I thought I’d broken him. But his eyes narrowed, his teeth gritted, and he kicked his legs wildly, trying to knock me off my feet.
“At least my father’s alive!”
That was it. I’d had enough. I lifted my sword high above my head and brought it down heavily, sinking the blade into the space between Horatio’s torso and his arm. Our battle had reached its climax, and the crowd roared their delight. I put my foot against Horatio’s chest, extracted my sword, and pushed him back onto the dirt. I stood over him, my shadow eclipsing his face.
