by Merry Farmer
“King’s pawn forward two.” Pennington shrugged and smiled to the crowd, putting the cloaked pawn in danger of an attack from Jack’s knight to feed the crowd’s desire for action.
Aubrey hesitated. She glanced to Jack. He looked back at her with a ready nod. It was as good a time as any to start the action. “King’s knight to take the black pawn.”
Jack stepped forward and the pawn in question stood his ground as from above Buxton called out, “Clear the board!” and the trumpeters played a fanfare. Crispin headed straight to Aubrey’s side.
As soon as the board cleared Jack drew his twin swords. He itched to move, to use his muscles and hear steel on steel. Or at least wood on … he wasn’t sure what the pawn in front of him used as a weapon. He wasn’t sure who the pawn opposite him was. The man was tall and thin but his face was covered by a hood. He glanced up as he took a peace-bonded axe from his belt. Gray eyes met brown and Jack’s heart pound to this throat.
“Tom!” He dropped his swords to his sides. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Fighting you,” his brother snapped.
Jack raised his weapons again as the two circled each other at the center of the board. “Oy, mate, you don’t want to do this. This isn’t a game.”
“I know.” Tom’s eyes burned with anger. “And you’re gonna lose.” He lunged forward and tried to hit Jack across the face with the handle of the axe.
Jack dodged. Tom’s blow landed on his shoulder, stinging. He spun around and whacked his brother across the side with the flat end of his right-hand sword then followed it with a jabbing blow to the gut with his left. Tom hadn’t seen the second blow coming and doubled over, fighting to keep his balance and not sink to his knees. “Just concede now and get off the board. Get out of the castle, out of the city, where you’ll be safe,” Jack pleaded, leaning over his brother.
Tom didn’t listen. He brought his axe up hard, connecting with Jack’s face and sending him staggering backwards. Jack bit his tongue, and when he spit out blood the nobles shouted with delight. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes flaring as he stared Tom down. The only way to keep his brother out of danger was to take him out. “Don’t make me do this, Tom.”
“You did it to yourself, Jack,” Tom mocked him.
Jack dropped into crouch. As soon as Tom came at him again he jumped into action. He spun his right-hand sword in his hand, chopping a blow across Tom’s shoulder with a loud crack, then slashed with the left-hand sword, thumping it into Tom’s side. Had they been real swords Tom would have been dead before he could blink, but covered with wood the second blow only knocked him off balance. He swung around and brought the right-hand sword crashing against Tom’s back in another move that would have killed him had the sword been real, knocking him over.
When it looked like Tom would struggle to get to his feet he had no choice but to kick him in the ribs, which brought a loud “Oooh!” from the crowd. The blow flung Tom to his back and Jack lunged to him and brought both swords down, crossing them on either side of his brother’s neck. Had the blades been exposed he could have cut Tom’s head off with one motion.
“Yield,” Jack warned him.
“To you?” Tom snarled up at him.
Jack’s expression softened into deep regret. “This isn’t about us, mate. People are gonna die here today. Please don’t be one of them.”
Tom blinked at his brother. It was the look one stranger had for another. All the years they had had only each other to rely on vanished. Jack closed his eyes on the pain. He had never felt more alone.
“I yield!” The sharp cry from Tom snapped his eyes open.
The crowd erupted into cheers and boos. Jack stood, releasing the swords from Tom’s neck. As Tom crawled off the board he shot him a look that told him nothing was over. The yield was only temporary.
“Resume the board!” Buxton called from the gallery and the trumpeters played again. Jack took his new place. As long as Tom kept out of this dangerous madness nothing else mattered.
“Well played,” Pennington congratulated the panting Jack. Then he went on. “Queen to Rook’s row, fourth square.”
Aubrey held her breath as Ethan strode across the board to a spot threatening Crispin. Ethan stared at his nemesis, not caring if anyone figured out who he was. Crispin met his eyes with hatred that went far beyond the games of that day. The tension between them made the hair on the back of Aubrey’s neck stand up. No one else in the room had questioned Tom’s presence on the board as the black pawn. No one else would know who he was. But if Tom was there and Ethan was positioned for a fight, the others wouldn’t be far behind.
Aubrey scanned the crowd, buying herself time as she looked for Toby, possibly even Geoffrey, while deciding whether to keep Crispin in line for Ethan’s attack or move him to safety. She glanced up to the gallery, to Buxton, to see if he suspected what was going on below.
Her eyes widened and her heart dropped to her stomach when she saw Geoffrey, disheveled and distraught, standing beside Buxton. The guards crowded near him spelled out that he was not there as a guest. He stared at her with wide, warning eyes, shaking his head. Buxton saw her notice his little prize at last and thumped Geoffrey on the back hard enough to push him against the railing high above the floor. It was enough of a drop from the gallery to the floor to hurt a man, maybe worse. Aubrey swallowed and glanced to Crispin. He saw everything that she saw and suspected more. They needed to move and they needed to move now.
She did the only thing she could think to do. “Queen forward two!” she shouted and charged across two spaces to stand at Crispin’s side. “Geoffrey,” she glanced to the gallery.
“I know.” Crispin put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to reassure her.
“We have to save him. I don’t trust Buxton not to-”
“Neither do I, but we have another problem.” He nodded over his shoulder to Ethan lurking behind him. The board was already beginning to clear and Ethan was stalking his prey. The move had been declared when they weren’t listening and the trumpet fanfare was sounding.
Confidence clicked in Aubrey’s mind. She saw what needed to be done. “Lose to Ethan,” she entreated him. He narrowed his eyes at her. “Lose to him and leave the board. Try to get up to Geoffrey.”
Crispin understood and nodded. As Aubrey left the board he squeezed her hand. Then he turned to face Ethan across the black and white painted squares on the floor. The crowd buzzed. Crispin drew his sword and waited.
Ethan wasn’t about to let the showdown go unnoticed. When it was just him and Crispin on the board he threw back his hood and tossed his cloak aside. Surprise echoed through the room, the frenzy of the observing nobles heightened. Crispin didn’t flinch. He held his sword at ready, eager to get this over with.
“Well, well, well, doesn’t this look familiar!” Buxton laughed from the gallery above. His laughter was on the edge of madness. “I’m sorry, but didn’t we already have this particular exhibition the other day?”
“We never finished it,” Ethan shouted, his eyes never leaving Crispin’s.
“Let’s finish it now then.”
Crispin was determined to make a good show. With a cry he rushed forward bringing his sword down from left to right. Ethan was more ready than he seemed and parried the blow, spinning to smack his padded sword across Crispin’s back. He stumbled forward, back stinging from the blow, padded or not, and jumped to face him again. Crispin had no doubt that the sword Ethan held was as much a practice sword as the one he himself wielded and that it would take just as little time to reveal it’s sting. He lunged at Ethan and his blow was parried again. Ethan moved quickly, bringing his sword around and aiming for Crispin’s head. He blocked the blow and smashed his fist into Ethan’s face. The blow sent Ethan stumbling, but when he came forward again he was angrier than ever.
Ethan swung hard, Crispin defended, and came about to attack from the other side. Crispin deflected the blow and stabbed at Ethan’s
center. Ethan jumped out of the way and hit his sword aside. As the momentum carried him past Ethan jabbed an elbow hard into his kidney. The blow knocked Crispin to the floor. He let out a painful breath, turning but taking his time to get up. He wanted Ethan to attack him, to kick or hit him in such a way that he could make the blow look worse than it was. Ethan just stood there pacing.
“Get up, Huntingdon! I’m not finished with you yet!”
Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment Crispin got to his feet. He snarled at Ethan and charged him again.
They met in the center of the board, wood clattering against wood as first Ethan, then Crispin attacked, took the advantage, pounded blow after bruising blow, then defended, swung around, and defended again. So much depended on Crispin making Ethan’s blows look worse than they were, but so much inside of him wanted to flatten Ethan to a pulp.
He attacked with his full strength, hitting Ethan across the back with enough force to splinter the end of the sheath hiding the steel of his blade. Ethan staggered but he didn’t go after him. He stared at the end of his sword, metal glinting through. He had to lose and he had to lose now. Ethan came at him, striking hard from the right. He only half defended himself and when the blow made contact it knocked him to his knees. Seeing only weakness, Ethan brought the butt of his sword down hard on the back of Crispin’s head.
For a moment everything went dark. Crispin didn’t feel himself drop to the floor. There was a strange rushing sound in his ears.
When the world came back into focus he was staring at the ceiling. The noise was that of the crowd roaring. He lay there and blinked a few times, pinpricks of light dancing in his vision. Moments later Aubrey’s face shift into focus above his, terrified beyond anything he’d seen. “I’m alright,” he mumbled.
“You’re bleeding.”
He shook his head. It didn’t matter. Things were coming clearer and he felt more like he could move again. “Get someone to help me off the board. Make Buxton think I’m done for.”
Aubrey nodded, heart racing. She had been kneeling over Crispin’s prone body and now she stood. “Somebody help!”
She motioned for two of the servants to come help Crispin struggle to his feet. He managed to right himself to his hands and knees, leaving a small pool of blood from the back of his head on the floor. It was a convincing detail. She forced herself to remember that head wounds bled more than their fair share. As two of the castle servants dragged Crispin off the board and to a chair against the wall she sent him a last, determined look. He met her eyes. It gave her the strength to go on.
The trumpeters played again and they resumed their places on the board. Aubrey took her place with her sword already drawn. She was filled with furious determination and when Ethan regained the square right next to her, facing her, they glared into each other’s eyes with looks so fiery with emotion, so tense with the wealth of all that had passed between them that the men playing the pieces around them stood as far back from them as they could and still maintain their squares. Even though he was nowhere near the action about to take place Jack drew his swords and fiddled with the latches.
“Black takes the square,” Buxton giggled with delight.
“Check!” Pennington announced.
Aubrey glared at Ethan, not even sparing a glance over his shoulder to see Crispin rise from his seat and start towards the stairs leading up to the gallery.
“Queen attacks Queen!” Aubrey bared her teeth to Ethan. She didn’t hear whether Buxton called for the board to clear or whether the trumpeters played again. She just stared into Ethan’s arrogant eyes and prepared herself for battle.
“Looks like your knight failed to protect you,” he taunted her, circling, sword lowered.
“You idiot.” She shook her head. “He has protected me more than you can ever imagine, more than you ever did.” Trading words would distract Ethan, but he wasn’t the one who she needed to distract. She lunged at him, striking him a blow to the stomach before he could defend himself.
Ethan gasped in surprise and pain as he forced himself to recover. He should have known better than to let his guard down with her. She crouched, ready for him. He slashed at her stomach but she met the blow and threw him off with a loud grunt, then came at him from the other side. This time he was ready. His sword met hers with a loud thunk. She pulled back and attacked again without pause, and again when he blocked her. She spun and swept at his legs for a fourth attack, but he jumped her blade and landed an elbow to her back when she was off balance. She stumbled forward and recovered to turn on him again.
He had gone easy on her, she felt it. She wouldn’t do him the same favor. Instead she feigned to his right then switched her attack and brought her sword smacking into his side. He stumbled, recovered, and charged at her. She dodged and parried his blow but miscalculated and his body slammed into hers. It knocked them both to the floor, Ethan sprawled on top of her.
“Now this is more like it.” He laughed and smacked his mouth over top of hers. The crowd gasped and buzzed. She bit his lip hard and he jerked back with a shout, holding a hand to his mouth.
“It certainly is!” She crushed her knee into his crotch. Ethan crumpled to the side as the crowd shouted itself into a frenzy. They loved the exchange, called for more, stomped their feet and whistled. Aubrey smiled, playing to the crowd, but taking the opportunity to search for Crispin. He was halfway up the stairs to the gallery. The wild crowd was both helping him and getting in his way. She had to give him more time.
“Get up!” she shouted in imitation of Ethan’s battle with Crispin. “Don’t you want me? Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Land and power and me, in that order?” He was too slow to come after her again, taking too long to provide the needed distraction. She had to provoke him, had to draw the crowd deeper into it. “Crispin wants me, first and foremost!” He began to react. “And when we’re in bed together he drives me to heights of pleasure that I’m sure no woman has ever felt with you. I can’t get enough of his hands on me!”
He took the bait and shot to his feet in spite of the pain. He swung at her with his full strength.
Crispin couldn’t watch the fight going on below. He knew that if he let it get to him he wouldn’t be able to do what had to be done. His head was throbbing and his muscles were already tender from his battle with Ethan, but he mounted the steps with determination on the way to his target.
Buxton watched the match with rabid enthusiasm, shouting and jeering at Geoffrey at every chance he got. He was so carried away by the action on the floor below that Crispin was able to make it all the way to the top of the gallery without being spotted. He reached the top of the stairs and let the wooden sheath covering his sword drop to the floor.
He was within feet of Buxton when the man pivoted.
“Don’t think I can’t see you stalking me, Huntingdon,” Buxton spat. The crowd in the gallery was still focused on the action on the board, but when they saw Crispin’s sword glint with steel and the long, shining knife that Buxton pointed hard into the ribs of Geoffrey’s back as he leaned out over the gallery they took notice and backed up. “Don’t think I don’t know what you have planned. One more step and Morley dies.”
Crispin stopped, his own sword half raised. He knew the wild look of desperation in Buxton’s eyes. The noise of the crowd swelled again as something happened on the floor below.
Buxton cackled, “On second thought, he dies anyhow.” He plunged his dagger hard into Geoffrey’s back.
“Aubrey!” Geoffrey cried as blood strangled him.
Aubrey stopped mid swing and glanced up at her brother. At the same time Ethan brought a sweeping blow crashing against the side of her head. She was knocked flat. Then Ethan heard Geoffrey’s call and looked up to the gallery just in time to see Buxton heave Geoffrey over the railing. He hit the ground at the corner of the chessboard with a sickening crunch.
The room exploded. Screaming erupted everywhere and nobles and servants alike scattered
in all directions. Aubrey scrambled for her sword, eyes wild. She grabbed it and threw the scabbard off. Steel flashing, she turned to the gallery, only to see her brother’s body sprawled and broken on the floor with a dagger sticking out of his back.
“No!” Her world reeled as she ran to him. She knew it was too late, but as she reached him she sobbed and shook him and tried in vain to get him to wake and tell her everything would be alright. He would never comfort her or tell her off ever again.
Her moment of grief spun into rage and, mad with fury, she pushed her way through the crowd of people towards the stairs leading to the gallery, out for blood.
Crispin lunged for Buxton as he turned to flee from Aubrey. The crowd was in a frenzy and he wasn’t able to raise his sword before Buxton shot off into the hallway. Crispin tore after him, fighting his way through the panicking people. He sighted Buxton’s back as he turned the corner at the end of the hall. He raced after him, blood pounding, pain forgotten, turning the corner and charging down the corridor. Buxton was still in sight and as he reached the Front Hall he stopped and ripped a sword out of one of the guard’s hands.
Crispin threw himself at Buxton with a strangled cry of hatred. Steel clashed against steel as he used all of his strength to attack. He pushed Buxton back, deflecting his thrusts. Buxton was no meager swordsman. He fought back as ferociously as anyone. He knew he was fighting for his life. He returned Crispin’s blows with unnatural strength. Their blades rang against each other in bursts of sparks as they battled through the Front Hall and towards the door leading to the courtyard. Steel ripped into flesh on both sides.
The moment the melee broke out after Geoffrey was murdered Jack remembered his charge to protect the prince. He leapt up from the place he had taken while watching Ethan and Aubrey fight and kicked his way through a crazed noble to the prince’s side. Jack didn’t know what provoked him, but when he saw Ethan make a move towards the prince he stepped in front of his liege and raised both swords, blades bared.
