“Would it matter?” Achilles asked. His gaze moved to Caius and Alexander, who were grouped together this morning once again. “I see that you are still holding Richmond’s commander hostage. This will go very badly for you once Richmond discovers what you have done, not to mention once William Marshal discovers what you have done. Have you considered that he will bring the whole of his armies to Yorkshire and destroy you and your allies? The Duke of Brittany will not stand a chance against William Marshal. Enjoy your power while you have it, de Meynell. It will not last.”
Some of de Meynell’s cheeriness left him. “So you have a sharp and logical tongue, Achilles,” he said. “In fact, I do not even know your full name.”
“Achilles de Dere.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “I do not know the family.”
“Do you know de Velt?”
That drew a reaction. “Everyone knows de Velt.”
“My mother is a de Velt. Congratulations. You will also have the de Velt army down around you, too.”
That drew almost more of a reaction from him than the threat of William Marshal. The House of de Velt, forty years ago, had been the most ruthless and barbaric house in England. In fact, the king at the time, Henry, had paid the head of the House of de Velt, Ajax de Velt, to stay away from his properties. De Velt had a way of capturing castles and then putting entire armies on poles, sticking them through the bodies of living men, and then posting the poles for all to see. Henry wanted no part of that, so he paid the man to stay away.
The horrific and ruthless reputation of the House of de Velt was still intact even though they’d become more civilized as the years passed. But no one wanted to tempt fate.
Except, perhaps, an arrogant Yorkshire lord.
“Then if you have de Velt blood in you, you must be a formidable warrior, indeed,” de Meynell taunted. “But the fact remains that you are a spy. The lady is a spy. It is my right to do as I please with spies and no man will dispute my rights. Therefore, I will tell you how our battle will happen this morning – you and the lady shall face one another and fight until one of you cannot fight any longer. Wounded or exhausted, it does not matter to me, but the loser will die. By his or her opponent’s hand or by my archers. One way or the other, one of you will not live to see the sunset.”
Achilles was trying very hard to control himself. “And the winner?”
De Meynell pointed to Alexander. “The winner will face de Sherrington,” he said. “The winner of that bout will live. I would not disappoint such a warrior. But he, or she, will spend the rest of their lives in the vaults of Aysgarth.”
“Nay,” Caius spoke up. “They will not. The winner comes with me. He, or she, will have earned their freedom.”
De Meynell was genuinely intimidated by the big, black-haired knight. In truth, he was intimidated by all of them, hiding behind the strength of the soldiers he had with him. Otherwise, he would have never stood up to them.
And that was the truth.
“I have not yet decided what to do with you, d’Avignon,” de Meynell said. “Surely you do not expect me to release you after you have witnessed all of this.”
“If you do not release me, everything Achilles said will happen and more. You will not survive.”
“But if I release you, you will simply run back to Richmond and bring your army to destroy me.”
“If you want to be a big player in the politics of England, you must expect bigger players to quash you. That is the price you pay, de Meynell. But keeping me captive will most certainly only make the situation worse.”
De Meynell knew that, in theory, but he didn’t like hearing it as it came from Caius. He was coming to think that he should simply let him go and perhaps Caius would take that into consideration when thinking of mounting his army against him. He hadn’t harmed Caius in any way, but if things continued, that might change.
De Meynell was starting to feel some doubt.
Perhaps Caius was too much of a liability to hold any further.
“Then I shall show mercy,” he said abruptly, motioning quickly to his men. “Escort him to the gates. Leave, d’Avignon, but do not make me regret being merciful to you.”
It was an extraordinarily unexpected move, one that caught Caius off guard. He’d expected much more of a fight about it. Perhaps the threat of tens of thousands of men descending on Wensleydale and Whorlton had worked.
“I want my weapons,” he said. “And my horse.”
“Leave now, as you are, or you will not leave at all.”
With that in mind, Caius didn’t hesitate. With a lingering look to Samuel, silently reminding the man that the fate of his sister rested with him and that clandestine smelly dagger, he headed towards the gatehouse, followed by a contingent of de Meynell’s men. They had their swords drawn, pointed at the man’s back, and everyone watched as the flimsy gates of Aysgarth’s gatehouse swung open and expelled him.
When the man was gone, Achilles and Alexander breathed a sigh of relief. At least Caius was safe from whatever madness de Meynell had planned. But they were not safe at all; once Caius departed, de Meynell’s attention was back on them with the added layer of irritation now for having made the decision to release the commander of Richmond Castle.
Any semblance of pleasantness was gone from his face.
“Think not that this changes your fate,” he said to the three accused spies. “It has no bearing. Susanna, since you are a weaker female, you shall choose the weapons used in this battle. Take care and do not choose something Achilles will excel at more than you.”
It was a dig at the fact that she was a woman and as de Meynell grinned, the men around him tittered. All but Samuel, that is. He simply stood there, looking at his sister with an expression of great sorrow.
There was no laughter on his face.
But Susanna wasn’t looking at her brother. She’d stopped looking at him, not wanting de Meynell to think she was emotional about Samuel and use that to his advantage as he’d done yesterday. Instead, she was ignoring her brother outright as she stood next to Achilles, her head held high. She hadn’t come from the vault holding his hand as she had yesterday, but rather came out beside him, strongly prepared for what was to come.
She wasn’t going to give de Meynell the satisfaction of knowing how frightened she was. In fact, she looked him in the eye when she chose her weapon.
“I choose fists.”
De Meynell’s eyes widened with shock. “Fists?” he repeated. Then, he started to laugh, joined by the men around him. They were having a great time at Susanna’s expense. “Are you daft? He will kill you much sooner than I would hope.”
“Then that is my problem, is it not? I choose fists. If you will cease to cackle like a flock of hens, let us get on with this.”
The laughter stopped unnaturally fast at the insult. “It will be a pleasure to watch you and your unruly tongue meet justice this morning,” de Meynell said. Then, he shook his head sadly. “You were so beautiful. You could have had a life of pleasure, but I see now that you cannot make a silk purse from a sow’s ear. That is all you are, Woman – a sow’s ear. Now, make your move.”
Susanna turned to Achilles, noting the strong lines of his face in the early morning sun. In the light, she could see that his hair was starting to grow in because he hadn’t had the opportunity to shave it. He’d told her once that he had a full head of hair but he’d gotten in the habit of shaving it to keep the vermin away.
As the sun rose, she could see his hairline, well defined, as light brown stubble grew in. She’d never seen him like that before and she smiled faintly, a sweet moment of discovery amidst hell. But the moment was short lived. Her pause was only temporary before she charged Achilles, ducking low when he braced himself, and took him out by the legs.
The fight was on.
Achilles ended up on his face because of the way she’d hit him and, suddenly, she was on his back. She had him by the ears and pulled enough so that he roared in p
ain. He reared up on his knees and fell over backwards, on top of her. Hearing her grunt, he knew he’d knocked the wind out of her, but before he could flip himself over and attack her, she brought up a handful of dirt from the bailey and smashed it into his nose and eyes.
It was vicious from the start.
Reeling from dirt in his face, Achilles already had enough. He knew she was trying to put on a good show, but he had to put one on, too, and try not to hurt her in the process. That was virtually impossible, but he had to do his best. Getting hold of her hands as they rubbed dirt in his eyes, he managed to climb to his feet, twisting her the entire way. She was fighting him fiercely, but he was stronger. He managed to lift her up and toss her several feet away, wincing when she grunted painfully as she landed on her back.
Not giving Susanna time to breathe, Achilles pounced.
The brawl got nasty after that, but Susanna didn’t give up. She even rammed her foot into his privates, although it was more of his bottom than his manhood, but it was enough so that Achilles reacted by shoving her away from him, as hard as he could, trying desperately not to actually strike her. She ended up falling onto her face and he was right behind her, putting his foot on her neck as she struggled to rise. He wasn’t trying to strangle her, merely pin her down, and Susanna struggled appropriately. She had a little room to breathe, but not much. She was sucking in plenty of dirt.
Unfortunately, from the way she was pinned, there wasn’t much she could do and it looked to those observing that the fight had already ended. Susanna was on her face, slowly suffocating because Achilles had his boot on her neck. De Meynell, standing over with his men, shook his head with disapproval.
“I knew this would not be a fair match,” he said unhappily. “He is simply too strong for her.”
His men agreed, including Samuel, who was quickly approaching a panicked state. He had the dagger Caius had given him, tucked into the sleeve of his tunic. He hadn’t quite made the final decision to use it, although he was hoping to. In his wildest dreams, he’d never planned to use it on Achilles, but as he watched his sister’s slow death, he began to rethink that strategy. Fearful, he turned to de Meynell.
“Order him to step away from her,” Samuel said, struggling not to sound as if he were terrified. “Tell him to step away and let her recover. They can fight when she has caught her breath.”
De Meynell eyed Samuel before returning his focus to the fight at hand. Achilles was still standing there and Susanna was still struggling. He shook his head.
“They will only end up like this again. We must make the fight more balanced in your sister’s favor.” With that, he signaled to the archer who had been standing with his men. He pointed to Achilles. “Disable him only. Do not kill him.”
Alexander, who had been watching the fight with concern and interest, was filled with horror when he heard the command. Before he could utter a word of protest, or even warn Achilles, two archers raised their bows and the arrows went sailing. Achilles, who had his back turned to the archers, was hit in his right calf and his right shoulder. The impact of the arrows was enough to launch him off of Susanna and onto the ground.
Susanna’s head came out of the dirt, biting off a scream when she saw what had happened. Her first instinct was to run to Achilles and help him, but she knew if she did that, de Meynell would realize that their battle had all been for show.
She couldn’t take the chance.
So, she remained where she was, tears filling her eyes as Achilles sat up, his face contorted with pain. The first thing he did was rip the arrow in his leg free. It came out in one piece and the blood flowed from the puncture wound, streaming down his leg. But the one his shoulder was embedded deep and he couldn’t get to it. He tried, but he simply didn’t have the reach.
And she couldn’t help him.
Biting off choking sobs, Susanna stood up and marched over to him, kicking him in the chest and sending him onto his left side. When Achilles looked up at her, looming over him, he could see the rivers of tears down her face, streaked with dirt. With as much pain as he was experiencing, all he could think of was her. He didn’t want de Meynell to see her breakdown.
“Nay, Sparks,” he whispered. “Do not weep. I want you to kick me now. Go ahead; he has to think that I am badly injured. Kick me and mean it. It will be all right, sweetheart. I promise.”
She didn’t want to obey him. God help her, she didn’t want to, but she knew she had to. She had to kick and cause pain to the man she loved. She would have become sick over it had there been something in her stomach, but there was nothing. Instead, she sobbed quietly and gagged as she kicked him in the left thigh and then in the gut.
Her distress was overwhelming her.
Achilles grunted, trying to move away from her, but she came around behind him and kicked him in the kidneys. It wasn’t hard, but hard enough. Then she fell to her knees, took hold of the arrow shaft, and twisted.
Achilles screamed with pain.
Susanna was a mess. She was no longer attempting to hide her sorrow. She was sobbing openly now, throwing her arm across his neck as if trying to strangle him and putting her hand on the arrow, moving it just enough to cause him excruciating pain. It was quite agonizing but above the searing pain, Achilles could feel her sobbing against him. He knew this was worse on her than it was on him.
God, it broke his heart.
When she barely touched the arrow, he yelled as loud as he could so de Meynell would think she was really hurting him. With her arm across his neck, she was simply holding him fast while she jostled the arrow to cause him pain.
In truth, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. The fight was dragging on and the sun was rising now, but there seemed to be no Richmond army on the horizon. Achilles wondered if they had fled when Caius was released, but he couldn’t honestly believe that. He would never believe that The Britannia Viper would leave his friends behind, but the fact that there had been no army sighted concerned him greatly. He wasn’t sure how much longer he and Susanna could continue to fight each other, to hurt each other. The sounds of her sobs in his ear was just about killing him, more painful that any arrow could ever be. He thought that, perhaps, this was really the end of things.
It seemed the situation was quickly becoming hopeless.
But then, he began to smell smoke. Not that smoke was unusual in and of itself, but just as he got a strong whiff of it, men began to rush towards the gatehouse. He could hear soldiers shouting to de Meynell.
“The training encampment!” they were saying. “It is on fire!”
As Susanna and Achilles struggled in their life and death fight, the rickety gates of the gatehouse were pulled open, the ropes creaking on their wheels as the panels were rolled back. Susanna stopped touching the arrow as both she and Achilles came to a halt, watching as de Meynell’s men began running towards the gatehouse. Everyone seemed to be running in that direction except for de Meynell, Samuel, and Alexander.
In fact, de Meynell appeared shocked by it all. He was confused, watching his men as they rushed through the gatehouse. Servants were ordered to the training field carrying buckets and blankets. Everyone seemed to be moving to fight the fire, but de Meynell wasn’t moving. He seemed to be frustrated that his punishment for his spies had been interrupted. In the chaos, he turned to Achilles and Susanna to demand they continue but, in that moment, something extraordinary happened.
Samuel, who had been standing silent and meek at de Meynell’s side, portraying every inch of the submissive vassal, suddenly lifted his hand. There was something in it, something gleaming, and he plunged it straight into de Meynell’s chest.
Alexander, who was standing closest to Samuel and de Meynell, watched in amazement as Samuel removed the dagger from de Meynell and plunged it into him twice more before the man fell onto his back, his eyes wide with shock.
“De Tiegh!” he gasped. “I will have you executed for this! I will have you killed! I will –!”
&n
bsp; Samuel, in a frenzy, fell on the man and stabbed him repeatedly, until he stopped moving, until Alexander bent over and hauled him to his feet, away from de Meynell’s bloodied corpse. By that time, a great roar could be heard as the Richmond army began to pour in through the gatehouse, slashing everything that moved.
Leading the charge were Caius and Kevin.
With Samuel still in his grip, Alexander raced over to Susanna and Achilles, who were still on the ground, stunned and muddled from the beating they’d given each other.
“Achilles!” Alexander hissed. “Get up! We must get out of here!”
He reached down, pulling Achilles to his feet as Susanna tried to help. She was shaken and beaten, and as she tried to help Achilles, Samuel reached down and pulled her to her feet as well.
“What happened?” Susanna looked at her brother in utter shock. “Sammy, you… you killed him!”
Samuel still had the man’s blood on his hands and realized he didn’t feel badly about it at all. That Blackchurch knight, that ghost of what he’d once been, had come back to life. He could feel the familiar fire of battle surging through his veins, something he thought he’d lost a long time ago.
But it hadn’t been lost… it was only sleeping.
Sir Samuel de Tiegh had made a return.
“I know,” he said, smiling weakly at her. “I had to. For you, I had to.”
Susanna could hardly believe it. For a moment, the brother and sister shared something, something warm and bonding, as strong as the birthright between them. For Samuel, it was his courage reaffirmed. For Susanna, it was the brother she’d once had such faith in.
He was back.
“Come on,” Alexander said. “We must get out of here while Richmond is taking care of de Meynell’s men. We must get Achilles to a safety.”
Susanna kissed her brother on the cheek before rushing to Achilles’ side, holding on to him to support him. With Alexander on the other side, and Samuel covering their rear, they ran towards the open gates as fast as Achilles could move.
Starless Page 22
