“Aye, so only God can judge him now,” Roger said bitterly, wrenching himself free with one powerful lunge from those holding him. “What say you, brother? Are you man enough tae stand by your lies and fight me or will you hide behind Bishop Francis’s robe?”
“I will fight you, Roger.”
Julianna shivered at the hatred in William’s eyes, the two men glaring at each other so alike in height and powerful build that fear shot through her—not for herself, but for her husband, who seemed almost beside himself as the bishop’s voice rose above the commotion.
“A wager of battle it will be. If Laird Douglas is slain, his wife will be deemed guilty and will perish by fire. If William Douglas is slain, she is innocent and no one again will lay a charge of witchcraft upon her. Heaven will judge you now, Lady Douglas—and may God defend the right!”
CHAPTER18
Horror-stricken, Julianna felt herself propelled out of the way by Alec as Roger’s men, many of whom had rushed in soaking wet from outside, moved tables, chairs, and benches out of the way to clear a wide area in the center of the great hall.
Tears burning her eyes, she wanted so desperately to run to Roger to embrace him.
To tell him that she loved him, but already he and William faced each other from opposite corners while the bishop waved for the wager of battle to commence.
With three charging strides, the brothers were upon each other, Julianna flinching as sword rang against sword.
Her heart sinking, she saw Roger grimace as if his fearsome downward swing had caused pain along his ribs, but what could be done? She could only watch, terrified for him, as he and William circled each other and then charged again, the fierce ringing of steel making her heart lodge in her throat.
“By God, brother, you’ve grown weak!” William taunted him with a derisive laugh, Roger’s only answer to swing so mightily that William had to dodge to miss the blow. He only laughed again as if his life wasn’t as much in danger as Roger’s, circling him.
“Julianna de Vescy—aye, Bishop Francis heard himself from a traveling priest what occurred at Dumbarton Castle and shared the news with me. You dinna even know yet that her betrothed, Charles de Montfort, was captured with some of his men and brought before King Robert—who ordered them executed that very day for attacking his delegation.”
“Oh, God…” Julianna breathed, which William must have heard as he hazarded a glance in her direction while brandishing his sword.
“Aye, lass, the fool ventured further north tae find you than any other Englishman would have dared—only tae hear you’d wed his enemy! If you and Roger had stayed a while longer in Dumbarton, you could have seen De Montfort’s severed head stuck high upon a pike!”
“Enough, William—swing at me,damn you!”
His brother did, Julianna gasping when Roger evaded the blow only to lose his footing and go down hard on one knee.
For some reason, William allowed him to rise while keeping well out of Roger’s lunges to strike him, his laughter grown even more mocking.
“Did you believe your English wife would never find out it was our family on the border raid years ago that slewherfamily, the De Vescys—her father, mother, and a weakling boy who tried tae attack me before I threw him down and plunged my knife into his heart?”
“M-my family?” Julianna echoed, feeling the blood drain from her face as Roger glanced at her right before William swung to strike him, their swords clashing with the jarring screech of steel against steel.
Grunting loudly from exertion, they pushed themselves away from each other only for Roger to say through clenched teeth, his breathing harsh, “Forgive me, Juli…I wanted tae tell you—”
“Och, it doesna matter now, brother!” William cried out as he lunged again at Roger, swinging his sword. “You’re going tae die and your English witch burn tae ashes at the stake with your wee daughters as witnesses—”
“No, by God, no!”
Julianna would have crumpled to the floor if not for Alec still gripping her arm, Roger’s incensed outcry ringing from the rafters as he attacked so fiercely that William stumbled under the onslaught and fell to his knees.
His sword upraised like a shield as blow after blow from Roger struck metal, William’s boots slipping on the stone floor and preventing him from rising—until he gave so enraged a roar and swung upward that he knocked the sword from Roger’s hand.
The weapon lofted so high that onlookers scrambled out of the way to avoid being struck when it landed…far out of Roger’s reach, but only a few feet from Julianna.
She didn’t think, only reacted as she wrenched her arm free from Alec and snatched up the sword to hurl it back toward Roger, onlookers scattering again as their startled shouts filled the air.
His hand closing around the hilt just as William lurched to his feet and struck wildly at Roger, slicing across his upper arm even as a flashing blade caught William on the side of the neck and he went down.
Blood gushing from the fatal wound and soaking his tunic, a look of incredulity on his ashen face as he pitched forward onto the floor.
Not moving. No longer breathing…while Roger sheathed his sword and pressed his hand to his left arm, bright red blood seeping through his fingers.
Without hesitating, Julianna reached down to tear a strip from her gown from hem to knee and ran to him to wind the cloth around his wound—a glance telling her that it wasn’t grave.
