Lords of Honor

by K. R. Richards

  “Libby!” He felt the warning chills at the same moment. Again he heard Libby’s voice. Micah, help me, Davitt is here! He’d put a pistol in his coat earlier. He headed for the stairs just about the time Lyon came out of his room. “Give a pistol to George, Lyon. There’s something wrong, I feel it. Libby needs me. I’m going down.”

  Lyon entered the parlour and removed two pistols from his coat. He left one with Rowena. “Shoot to kill, Rowena.” He handed the other to George.

  Rowena paled, and nodded.

  “Lock the door when I leave. Our guards seem to have disappeared.”

  George hurried to lock the door after Lyon left.

  Micah did not see Tristan or Charlie. He reached the head of the stairs. Silently, his pistol drawn, he moved down the first set of stairs.

  As he came to the landing and peered around the corner he saw a man holding a knife to Sophia’s throat. He heard a bloodcurdling scream. Libby! It chilled Micah to the bone. Lyon came up beside him. “Crow!” Together, they hurried down the stairs to reach Crow and Sophia.

  Both Lyon and Micah watched in horror as the man pushed Sophia down the stairs with his foot.

  “No! Sophia!” Lyon shouted in fear and anger as he watched his wife roll downward. He stopped. Rage, raw and red surged through him. “Crow!” Lyon bellowed as he raised his rifle. His voice echoed in the immense entry hall.

  Crow’s eyes widened as he registered that Lyon pointed a rifle at him, and he held only a knife in his hand at that moment. His hand moved to his coat pocket.

  Lyon aimed for Crow’s head. He squeezed the trigger. His aim was true. Crow toppled over the banister and landed with a thud on the marble floor below.

  Lyon hurried toward the still form of Sophia at the bottom of the stairs.

  Another scream rent the eerie darkness of the main floor as Micah passed Sophia. “Lyon, you must get Sophia upstairs to safety! Stay with the ladies and George!” he shouted as he headed toward the long gallery.

  Lyon knelt beside Sophia. He wasn’t even certain his wife was alive. “Sophia?” He saw a nasty bruise and some blood at her temple. A bruise darkened her cheek. Her lip was bleeding. She was so pale. He laid his shaking hand on her chest. Felt it rise. Just to make certain he put his ear near her nose and mouth. He sighed with relief when he felt her warm breath. “My God, Sophia.” Lyon stood and opened the front door and shouted to alert their guards there were intruders inside and to hold their posts. He lifted his wife gently into his arms and carried her slowly and with much difficulty up the stairs. He feared his leg would give out on him if he pushed himself. He had to get Sophia upstairs, make certain George and the ladies were safe then get back downstairs to help Micah. He wondered what had become of Tristan and Charlie?

  Micah saw the still form of his wife upon the floor. There appeared to be another motionless form crumpled on the marble further down the gallery beyond her. In the gloom he could not see enough to make out who it was. His heart wrenched in his chest. Was Libby dead? Hurt? He remembered Gabriel’s words. Did Davitt rape her? Anger and rage filled him.

  He felt a rush of energy crackle along his shoulders at the same moment he heard a warning in his head. Move! He jumped aside quickly when he heard the whoosh of a large blade slice through the air. Only a big blade could make a noise like that. A sword! Just like Libby’s dream!

  Micah spent a great deal of time at Wychcombe House during his youth. He knew exactly where he was in the gallery, even in darkness. He knew where Davitt retrieved the sword. He heard another swoosh. Seeing a small glint of moonlight reflecting upon steel, he quickly jumped away, out of reach from the weapon. He backed against the wall, reached behind him and took down the one remaining sword that was displayed upon the wall. The weapons were a matched pair.

  Unfortunately, one sword was in good shape; the other broke decades ago. It was forged back together for the sole purpose of hanging it on the wall. It was weak. It might break. In the darkness he could not tell which sword he held. He inched to a nearby window and flung open one of the heavy drapes allowing a little more light into the room. Micah lunged away and to the side as Davitt forged toward him. He noted Davitt limped heavily on his left side.

  Still Micah could not tell which blade he held in his hand. The light was just too faint to see if he held the once broken sword.

  The moon came from behind clouds and offered a little more light. Micah watched as Davitt rushed toward him, sword outstretched.

  Sword in one hand, Micah raised his pistol in the other. He fired. He saw Davitt move to the side as he squeezed the trigger. Damn, he missed! There was only one shot in that pistol. Bloody Hell! He threw the empty pistol at Davitt. It hit him in the forehead and bounced off. He heard Davitt grunt as the pistol fell with a thud to the floor.

  Micah watched as Davitt once again charged him with his sword held high. Davitt was no swordsman, but possessed a great deal of strength. Micah reached down into his boot and retrieved his knife. He took careful aim and threw it at Davitt.

  Davitt faltered, his sword wavered in the air for a few moments. He continued onward toward Micah.

  Micah could better see his opponent as he stepped into the moonlit area of the gallery before the large window. The knife appeared to be lodged in Davitt’s upper arm near the shoulder. He aimed for Davitt’s heart, but his aim proved to be off. Davitt’s gaze moved from the knife in his shoulder to Micah. He moved forward with an angry growl. “You’re a dead man, Wincanton. I’ll carve you into pieces. I will cut your wife up so no one will ever want to look upon her, after I use her, of course.”

  Davitt swung his sword at him. Micah moved in with his weapon to block the blow. The meeting of steel upon steel caused sparks to fly.

  Micah knew when he met Davitt’s blow that he held the weak blade. He felt the metal give. The sound of steel clanging upon the floor echoed in the room after Micah’s sword broke.

  “Micah?” Libby sat up. Oh, God! Micah and Davitt were fighting with swords, just like in her dream! “Stay focused, Micah. Don’t get angry!” Libby called out in what she hoped was a calm voice.

  Micah turned his attention momentarily toward his wife who sat beyond Davitt at a safe distance. She was trying to get to her feet, and appeared to be having difficulty.

  At the same moment, Davitt bent to retrieve a pistol from his boot.

  Micah caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and kicked it out of his hand. It skittered across the floor close to where Libby tried to raise herself from the floor. She began to crawl to reach the pistol.

  Davitt removed a larger pistol from his coat and pointed it at Libby. “Leave it, bitch!”

  Libby stilled.

  Micah moved forward to try and get the pistol from Davitt’s hand. Davitt leveled his sword to point at Micah’s chest.

  Micah had only one weapon left on him. He must make his next move carefully. Quickly, he stepped back, bent and slid his fingers into his other boot to retrieve his larger knife.

  He was out of sword’s reach from Davitt now.

  Davitt swung the pistol back to aim at Micah.

  “No, Wincanton. I think I will kill you first. Know that I will fuck your wife, beat her and cut out her eye, after I carve her face so no one shall ever look upon her again. She will live her life in sorrow remembering the only man who would have her is dead.”

  “No you won’t, Davitt. I’m going to kill you first,” Micah said calmly. He carefully watched his opponent. He forced himself to remain calm and collected. His life and Libby’s depended upon it.

  “I’ve a sword and a pistol and you’ve a knife and the stump of a broken sword!” Davitt’s evil laughter echoed in the long gallery.

  “You’re still going to be dead.”

  “What kind of imbecile are you? I’ve just to pull the trigger. And you are dead.” Percy aimed his pistol at Micah’s heart.

  A shot fired. The boom reverberated through the long, high-ceilinged room.

 
Davitt jerked. His pale green eyes grew large. The sword dropped from his hand. He looked down at the sword upon the floor. He made a strangled sound as he raised his arm to aim his weapon at Micah.

  Micah knew Davitt was hit in the back. Libby must have reached the pistol and shot him. Micah kicked at Davitt’s arm. His pistol went flying. Micah slashed his knife deeply across Davitt’s cheek. “That’s for Libby.”

  Davitt sank to his knees.

  Micah looked across the room to see Libby crawling toward the kneeling Charlie. Charlie held the smaller pistol Micah kicked from Davitt’s hand earlier. Charlie remained where he was, arms extended, still holding the pistol. It had been Charlie who Micah saw crumpled on the floor beyond Libby when he first entered the gallery.

  In the moonlight Micah saw a large, dark stain covering Charlie’s chest in the area of his heart. He could not miss the long knife handle protruding from his friend’s chest. A handle that large, meant a long blade was thrust into Charlie’s chest. He was badly wounded, possibly fatally.

  “Did I get him, Micah?” Charlie’s voice was raspy.

  “Yes, Charlie, you got him. Thank you.”

  “Good.” Charlie fell back to crumple into a heap on the floor. Clutching her torn nightgown and wrapper to her, Libby scrambled faster toward Charlie on her hands and knees.

  “Charlie! Oh, Charlie!” Libby called frantically as she reached him.

  Micah looked down at Davitt, still on his knees before him. Davitt lifted pale green eyes upward to meet Micah’s. Blood dripped from his mouth. He tried to speak, but merely made a gurgling sound.

  “This is for Charlie.” Micah let his knife glide through Davitt’s throat.

  Micah heard the dull thud of Davitt’s body hitting the floor as he threw the broken sword aside and ran toward Charlie and Libby.

  Libby lifted her tear-stained face upward as Micah bent over her and Charlie. Libby held one of Charlie’s hands in both of hers.

  “Charlie?” Micah called softly.

  Charlie’s eyelids fluttered open.

  “You hold on, Charlie. I’m going to go get some light-“

  At that moment the entry hall beyond filled with loud male voices and the thunder of boots upon the marble floor.

  “I need some light in here! Charlie and Libby are hurt!” Micah called.

  Micah knelt beside Charlie. “Help’s coming, Charlie. Hold on, my friend.” Micah laid a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. He looked to his wife. He took in her torn clothing. “Sweetheart, did Davitt, hurt you?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “He was about to. I screamed. Gabriel told me to scream. Afterward, he hit me in the face again. I blacked out, I think.”

  “He did not have a chance, Micah. You came…right after…he hit her,” Charlie rasped. “I would have got him, still have a pistol…in m’coat.”

  Micah nodded to his friend. “I know you would’ve, Charlie.”

  Harry, Trevan, Gabriel and Owen entered carrying lit candelabra.

  Micah stood and removed his coat. He helped Libby into it to cover her torn garments, and pulled her gently to her feet.

  When the light arrived, Owen and Micah looked over Libby, while Harry and Trevan checked on Charlie.

  Gabriel went to look at Davitt. “We got Davitt and Crow?”

  Micah nodded.

  “How did they get in?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t know where Tristan is either. He was on watch with Charlie.” Micah supplied.

  Charlie spoke. His voice was weak and raspy. “They got Lachlan…one of Trevan’s cousins. They came through the kitchens. That’s where…Davitt got me. Heard a noise, I left Tristan upstairs. I did not see him…after,” Charlie said with much difficulty. “I tried to make it back to the stairs…I couldn’t.” He clearly was having trouble breathing.

  Trevan rose to his feet after inspecting Charlie’s wound.

  “Should we move Charlie upstairs and make him comfortable while we await the doctor?” Harry asked concernedly as he knelt beside his friend.

  Tears glittered in Trevan’s eyes. He shook his head. “No, Harry. We just need to make him comfortable here.” Trevan opkked to Charlie.

  Charlie nodded. Bloody bubbles formed at the corner of his mouth. Harry wiped them away with his handkerchief. “Stay still, Charlie. Just rest for now.”

  Trevan walked toward Libby. He whispered to Micah and Owen. “You both need to stay with Charlie. He doesn’t have much time.”

  They nodded solemnly.

  “Libby, I’m going to take you upstairs to your bed. You’ve got a nasty gash on top of your head that needs tending, and it appears you took a nasty facer. I’ll have the ladies look after you until the doctor arrives.”

  “I should stay with Charlie,” Libby protested.

  “No, Pet. Micah and I will stay with Charlie,” Owen shook his head.

  “You go on, sweetheart. I’ll be up soon.” Micah placed a kiss to her forehead.

  “Tell Charlie…” Libby found it difficult to speak.

  “He knows we love him, Libby,” Owen kissed her temple. “Go upstairs. Charlie wouldn’t want you here. He would not want you to see him this way, pet.”

  Libby nodded. Tears welled in her eyes.

  “Once I deposit Libby upstairs, I’ll search for Tristan. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Trevan said as he carried Libby from the room.

  They nodded.

  Libby looked up at Trevan as he carried her, “Charlie’s going to die?”

  “Yes, Libby. He was stabbed too near the heart and through the lung. There’s nothing can be done,” Trevan said softly.

  “He saved Micah. And me,” Libby wiped at a tear that rolled down her face.

  Lyon met Trevan and Libby on the stairs. Lyon’s eyes searched Libby’s face. “Are you harmed, Libby?”

  “I think I’m fine. How is Sophia, Lyon?”

  “She’s come too. I was worried for a little while. Crow pushed her down the stairs, I don’t know if she broke anything. Chilcompton’s surgeon is on his way.”

  “Micah? Charlie? Tristan?” Lyon looked to Trevan.

  “Micah is unharmed. He got Davitt. No one knows where Tristan is. You need to get to the long gallery, Lyon and see Charlie. He won’t make it much longer. Was it you that got Crow, Lyon?”

  Lyon nodded. “Yes, I got Crow. Charlie! Damn and blast!” he cursed softly. “I’m on my way.” With a lump in his throat and tears threatening, Lyon went to find Charlie.

  “You’ll look after m’sisters…and my parents,” Charlie asked softly. He wheezed and made a gurgling noise.

  “I will.” Owen nodded. He knelt beside his dear friend.

  “We all will, Charlie,” Micah offered. “Don’t worry about them. We will always see that they are safe and well.”

  “You’ll see to it m’sisters marry properly.” Charlie made a choking sound. Owen wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. “No bounders. No fortune hunters.”

  “Absolutely,” Micah said. Owen agreed.

  Micah stepped back when Lyon approached, allowing Lyon to take his place in the circle of friends gathered around Charlie, which now included Gabriel and Wyldhurst.

  “Charlie?” Lyon gazed upon his friend.

  “Sophia…is well?”

  “I think she’ll be fine, Charlie.”

  “Miss Libby was…bleeding.” Charlie’s breathing was raspier. More shallow. His breaths seemed labored.

  “Libby seems to be well enough, Charlie. Rest a little while,” Lyon said as he laid his hand on his friend’s arm.

  Trevan returned with Newt and Jack on his heels.

  “Did you find Tristan?” Micah whispered.

  “He’s not in the house. No one’s seen him.” Trevan shook his head. “I’ll search outside momentarily.”

  Newt and Elveston knelt down beside Charlie.

  Newt laid a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “We’ll get these bastards, Charlie. Don’t worry, Jack and I, we’ll make certain yo
ur family is always safe.”

  “We’ll check on them often, Charlie.” Jack said somberly.

  Charlie did not try to speak. He merely nodded.

  The sounds of Charlie struggling to breathe were painful for his friends to bear. Long minutes ticked by.

  Jack took Charlie’s hand in his when he began to panic because he could not get a breath. Charlie squeezed his hand tightly as he tried to breathe. “We’re here, Charlie. We’re all here with you,” Jack said in as calm a voice as he could manage.

  Micah closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and said a quick prayer asking Archangel Michael to put an end to Charlie’s suffering and give him a quick and peaceful death. It was becoming difficult to watch Charlie suffer and try desperately to draw a breath.

  The group of friends stood in somber silence as Charlie began to slip away.

  “Ah,” Charlie gave a small smile several minutes later,

  “The Angel,” Charlie gasped. His eyes closed. “Must go. The Light must prevail-” He gasped deeply.

  Charlie’s chest stilled. There was another deep, rasping breath to lift Charlie’s bloody chest less than a minute later. Only chilling silence followed. A peaceful smile remained on Charlie’s face.

  Owen started. Those were the same words the Archangel spoke to him after he took Libby from the top of Cadbury Hill. The Light must prevail. His dearest, lifelong friend was gone. He wiped at the tears rolling down his cheek. He looked up to see the others either wiping at their tears or lowering their heads.

  “Harry can you write the necessary letters? I must find my brother,” Trevan said gravely as he turned to leave the room.

  “I’m coming with you, cousin,” Gabriel fell in behind Trevan.

  “I will write the letters.” Owen told Harry as he rose from his knees beside Charlie’s still body.

  Harry nodded and placed his hand on Owen’s shoulder.

  Harry called to Gabriel before he could exit the room, “Gabriel, did you find Lachlan?” Harry’s voice was thick with emotion. He walked to where Trevan and Gabriel stood.