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“We have just as much honor as you do, Welshman!” Sir Hubert snapped. Cadell hid his sigh of relief. It seemed the provocation had worked. Could he really save the women from assault? “Very well. You have my word. Should you die under my men’s blows, none of the people here will be harmed. And the Lady Johanna will have a choice as to whether to accept Edwin’s offer or not. But I think she will quickly see where her interest lies and agree.”

It was the best, the only thing he could have hoped for.

By his side, Johanna sucked in a sharp breath but he silenced her with a pointed look. She had to let him do this. There was no other way.

Then he nodded to Sir Hubert. “Let’s begin2.”

Johanna ran to Cadell as soon as Sir Hubert dismounted to go select the four men who would fight him along with Edwin.

“Cadell, listen to me,” she said in an urgent whisper, “you cannot fight five men. ’Tis madness. You will never survive it. Don’t do this. I care not about saving Bryn⁠—”

“No, but you care about the people here. That is why you came here in the first place. You don’t want them to suffer at the men’s hands, and neither do I. I have to do this. It’s the only way to ensure they are not harmed.” He clenched his jaw. “Even that is not guaranteed, but I have to try, do you hear? I have to. I could not stop the atrocities committed when my home was taken all those years ago, when I was only sixteen. But I can now. I can at least try. I have to. I’m sure you understand.”

Of course, she understood. And she should have known that this was not just about Bryn Glas. Cadell was trying to repair the trauma of seeing his own home seized by Englishmen while he stood there, a youth of sixteen summers, powerless to stop them. She had never wondered what it would have meant to him to know he had not been able to defend his people but now the reality of the situation hit her square in the chest. He was right. If he didn’t agree to the horrid bargain, the men would simply join forces and kill him, before unleashing their wrath and lust onto the people of Bryn Glas.

There would be no quarter.

Cadell nodded toward the servants huddled in a corner.

“If I fight bravely, that accursed Sir Hubert might, just might honor his word. It is the only protection I can give those people. Old men, women with child, young girls. They rely on me. Don’t you see? I have to do this, regardless of…what might happen.”

She heard what he had not dared say. He didn’t rate his chances of actually besting the five warriors. And she didn’t either. But he didn’t think he had any other choice but to try.

His eyes glimmered.

Besides, if I cannot be with you, my life is not worth living anyway.

Something within Johanna broke. He was sacrificing himself because he thought he had already lost everything. But she could not watch him die in front of her eyes, not for her. She would find a way, she would agree to marry this Edwin if that was what it took. Then before the ceremony took place she would see with Siaspar if they could not cast doubt about the death of her husband. The absence of a corpse would play in her favor. Perhaps the church would agree that they needed conclusive proof of her husband’s death before they allowed her to remarry. She would talk to Rhun, persuade him to come out of hiding.

Anything to earn time and save the man she loved.

“Please, Cadell, it’s not⁠—”

“Ready, Welshman?” Sir Hubert called out.

Cadell threw her one last, impossibly intense look, and drew his sword.

“My name is Cadell ap Llywelyn ap Dafydd, not ‘Welshman,’” he said, as he turned to face the vile man. “And yes, I’m ready.”

A man clad in a heavy hauberk stepped forward, sword already drawn. Before Johanna had time to blink, he launched himself at Cadell, who, fortunately, had seen the blow coming. He parried and took a few steps back, both to place himself out of reach of the blade and draw the man away from the people watching.

His opponent followed and raised his sword again. Cadell parried again.

After that, everything became a blur of fast and terrible blows, but Johanna found it impossible to look away. At some point someone, perhaps Cadwgan, came to stand by her, as if to offer support. She didn’t look at him. The fight was horrific, brutal and uncompromising. This was no mere training, the Englishman meant to kill Cadell and earn himself Edwin’s gratitude for allowing him to seize the castle.

He was finally put out of action by a cut to the thigh so deep it prevented him from remaining on his feet. He fell to his knees and had to be dragged away. The second soldier who came to face Cadell quickly received a blow to the temple that knocked him cold. The third, a younger man who seemed rather intimidated by what he had seen of his Welsh opponent, was even easier to defeat. Hope started to bloom inside Johanna. Could Cadell do this? He’d sustained many injuries, but none seemed serious and he appeared still as efficient as he had been at first. The fourth man put up better resistance but was eventually forced to surrender when Cadell disarmed him and sent his sword to Old Cadwgan.

Only one more to go.

She looked at Cadell, who was by now panting hard, and covered in blood—his and that of his opponents. His cheek was cut under the eye, and for a reason she preferred not to dwell upon, he was holding his left arm down.

Her heart fell to the bottom of her stomach. The fifth man to step into the middle of the bailey was none other than Edwin himself—and he was a veritable beast, something she had failed to notice while he’d been astride his massive horse. Damn that treacherous Sir Hubert for keeping the strongest, most determined opponent for last, for when Cadell was too exhausted to best even a mediocre swordsman. There was no way he would beat this man after having faced four others already. He would be defeated at best, killed at worst.

The spark in his eyes dulled. He had reached the same conclusion. Nevertheless, he didn’t beg for mercy, didn’t say anything. He simply wiped his brow and nodded to Edwin, signaling that he was ready.

The last fight began, frightening in its intensity. The Englishman was giving no quarter, taking advantage of his opponent’s fatigue, doing all he could to end this as quickly as possible. He wanted the victory, he wanted the castle, and he wanted her. And then, what Johanna had feared happened.

Exhausted, Cadell stumbled and fell to one knee.