“Alistair, please. Please. For my sake.”
“It is fer yer sake that I fight, Jane,” Alistair said.
“I know, and I love you for it, but he is a Commander. He is ruthless and he does not fight honorably. He has been fighting for almost all of his life.”
“As have I,” Alistair said. He held her shoulders and rubbed them reassuringly. “I have nay intention of dying today, dear Jane. Nae when I have just reunited with me braither. Nae when a life with ye is in me grasp. Ye have nothing tae fear.” He planted a kiss on her forehead, which elicited gasps from onlookers. “Only believe in me.” So saying, he stepped away from her and Ramsay quickly joined him. They left the church entrance and walked into the sunlight.
Commander Pierce was in a circle that the crowd had created for the fighters. His face was a mask of pure hatred, but a sneer appeared on it suddenly. “You should have made a whore of her one more time before this fight. That would be fair, I think. One last rut before I cut that bastard head off your shoulders.”
“Is this an English tradition?” Alistair asked with a grin.
“What?” Commander Pierce asked, taken aback.
“Calling the enemy a bastard, even when he is nae. I am nae a bastard. I kenned me faither. I assume, Commander, that ye ken the meaning of the words ye use?”
There were scattered chuckles among the spectators. The Commander’s eyes darkened. But then the sneer came back. “You are quite right, savage. You are not a bastard. Your beloved Jane is. A bastard and a whore. An unfortunate combination.”
The grin which had been on Alistair’s face died immediately. He stole a look at Jane, who appeared to be trying to hide the fact that the insult had volleyed into her. And then he looked back at the Commander. “Ye will regret those words,” he promised, his voice low and filled with dark intent.
“Tell your children about this day,” the Commander said, spreading his arms abroad in a theatrical manner, “the day when the great Commander Edward Pierce vanquished a Scottish runt on English soil.” He drew his sword. It was a monstrous affair of pure, slicing steel. Alistair followed suit. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jane move. Eleonor held her comfortingly, and Ramsay stood behind Eleonor as if to support her.
Commander Pierce swung first. His aim was skilled, but Alistair managed to move in the nick of time. The Commander attacked again. Again, Alistair dodged the sword. It continued like this for a couple of seconds. “Fight me, you son of a whore!” the Commander bellowed. He lunged at Alistair again, but Alistair deftly bent at the knee and slid out of harm’s way, leaving the commander staggering. There was a small moment in which Alistair could have planted his sword in the other man’s back, but he refrained from doing so. The Commander caught his balance and turned, rage in his eyes. He ran toward Alistair, his sword held up to strike. Both made contact.
The sound was terrible.
A hush settled over the onlookers.
Jane wailed.
Metal left human flesh with a slicing sound.
The Commander backed away from Alistair, staggeringly, his gaze unfocused. There was a wound in his belly, from which blood poured. He looked down at the ground, and then looked at Alistair. He descended to his knees, clutching his stomach. He made gurgling noises, and a thin line of blood trickled down his chin. He then collapsed in the dust.
For a moment, there was deafening silence. It was as though the world was held spellbound.
And then Jane broke the silence by flinging herself into Alistair’s arms, crying tears of relief. The crowd murmured. Slurs were hurled at Alistair and the Scottish in general. Ramsay walked to Alistair and as soon as Jane pulled away, he embraced him heartily. “I remember that move,” he said.
“Of course ye dae,” Alistair replied with a chuckle, his hand firmly around Jane’s waist. He looked down at his side. “Sadly, the Commander had moves of his own.”
Jane and Ramsay looked down to see that his side was bleeding. There was a dagger in Commander Pierce’s dead fingers. Apparently, he had pulled it out at the last minute and struck just as Alistair drove his blade into his belly. Jane gasped. “We must get you treated immediately,” she said, and called for help. No one answered.
“I shall have my revenge,” the Duke of Lancaster said, surprising them all. They did not know that he was still here. “Come, darling,” he said to his daughter as he grabbed her hand and started off in the direction of his carriage. The girl cast a longing look at Eleonor, but her father pulled at her hand and she turned away. Eleonor rushed to Alistair. She tore her veil away and pressed it to his wound. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for saving Jane and me.”
“You are welcome,” Alistair said, trying to smile. “Jane has told me so much about you.”
“Oh, Alistair, me must get you tended to,” Jane said. “Come.”
“’Tis only a flesh wound,” Alistair said. “I have survived much, much worse.” He turned. Andrew Marsh was a short distance away, looking at the four with an unreadable expression. Alistair walked to him and pointed his sword at him. Jane and Eleonor came rushing to Alistair’s side.
“What would ye have done,” Alistair said to Jane, “tae the one who killed yer faither?”
Andrew Marsh’s eyes widened. “This was not part of the agreement!” he exclaimed. “Sheathe your sword.” His eyes darted from Jane to Eleonor and then back to Alistair.
“I shall dae only what Jane asks,” Alistair said.
“Put your sword away, Alistair,” Jane said softly. All eyes turned to her. “ He kept me when he could have thrust me away, after all.” She turned to the man she had known as her father for all of her life. “You took care of me, even though it was without a crumb of love. You fed me and ensured I had shelter. That was an act of kindness, lean and bare as it was.” She swallowed. “I can never forgive you for what you did to my father. All I can do is give you the chance to redeem yourself.”
Andrew Marsh burst into laughter. It was a harsh, loud, mirthless sound. “Do you expect me to be grateful? You think… you think that I want to have anything to do with you? Either of you?” He cackled and spit in the dirt. “I would rather die than see you girls give birth to a small Scottish half-beast.”
