“Can I rely upon you men to keep quiet until the matter is settled?”
“That you can,” Sir John said in his deep voice. “To be certain, we shall remain together until it is done.”
Jamie nodded his thanks.
“What say you to riding out to observe the fight?” Sir John said to the others.
One of the men slapped the table and grinned. “This is a fight I’d like to see.”
This was followed by nods and “ayes” all around the table. Men loved to watch a fight.
Jamie gave Pomeroy a long look before he turned on his heel and left. When he stepped out of the tower, he drew in a deep, cleansing breath of cold air and started across the lower ward.
“You gave Pomeroy no means to avoid the fight,” Martin said as he caught up to him.
Lord, he’d forgotten the lad was with him.
“ ’Tis too late for that now,” Jamie said without turning his head. In the messages he had sent Pomeroy over the weeks, he had hinted that Lady Linnet might be willing to accept a formal apology and a sum of money—large enough to be painful to Pomeroy—as compensation for the harm done.
But that would not satisfy Jamie now. This sort of fighting was so much more complicated than war. He must put the fear of death into Pomeroy, without actually killing him.
Jamie preferred the rules of war. He wanted Pomeroy’s blood.
“Was that wise, sir?” Martin asked. “To provide no opportunity for a peaceful resolution?”
“ ’Tis the only way.”
“But Sir Guy is well-known for his fighting skills,” Martin persisted.
“What kind of father do you have that I must explain this to you?” Jamie exploded.
Christ give him patience! He’d had enough talk for one day. The lower ward was huge and took so long to cross he wished he’d brought his damned horse. Just when he thought the boy had the good sense to be quiet, he spoke again.
“My mother devoted herself to teaching me the virtues of knighthood,” Martin said, sounding as though he had given Jamie’s last remark careful thought. “But perhaps my father would have taught me the more practical aspects had he not died when I was a babe.”
Damn. Why did he not know the boy’s father was dead? Martin was his squire. If the boy had no father to teach him what he ought to know, then it was Jamie’s duty to do it.
“The matter with Pomeroy is a simple one,” he explained. “Pomeroy poses a threat to Lady Linnet. As she is my future wife, I cannot allow that.”
“You are to wed her? That is the best of news, sir.”
Jamie was not feeling particularly joyous about it at the moment. But he was determined.
Martin was quiet until they passed the guards at the gate by the Round Tower that separated the lower and upper wards.
“Are you certain you will prevail, sir?”
“Aye.” There was no other choice.
“May I be your second, sir?”
The boy’s offer broke Jamie’s sour mood. “You are a good lad, but I will not need a second,” he said, slapping Martin on the back. “But there is something I would have you do for me.”
“It would be an honor, sir.”
“I want you to tell Lady Linnet I had to leave Windsor on business for Bedford.”
“You want me to lie to her?” Martin’s eyes went wide. He did manage to refrain from reminding Jamie that a knight is honest and true—though Jamie could see he wanted to.
