The Eagle attacked.
His target was, in fact, Ambrose, who was trying to run. Magnus ran past Lor, who was wrestling with a particularly large soldier, and Magnus went airborne as he rushed by, using a tree as leverage. He kicked off of the tree trunk, propelled himself through the air, and kicked Lor’s opponent in the head so hard that he broke the man’s neck.
As the soldier went down, Magnus landed on the ground, but his feet were still moving. They never stopped. He closed in on Ambrose as the man scrambled to get away, but Clegg was suddenly between them. Magnus had to sidestep Clegg or risk running into the man as Clegg used Et Victor to slice through Ambrose’s chest.
In a heartbeat, Ambrose Stewart was dead.
It was over before it barely began.
In the sudden stillness, Magnus stood over Ambrose and watched the man bleed out all over the sweet Scottish earth. When he turned to look at Clegg questioningly, to ask him why he had killed Ambrose, Clegg removed his helm and looked Magnus in the eyes.
“You’ll not have this on your conscience, Magnus,” he said quietly, knowing what the man was thinking. “This way, your path to heaven will be easier for not having killed a member of your own family.”
Magnus looked at the man in shock and perhaps some gratitude. “But ye killed him.”
Clegg pondered that statement, looking over to the son he’d also killed. As Axel and Lor and Bane and the others made sure everyone else was dead, Clegg considered his response.
“This is not something you need to be burdened with on your wedding day,” he said. “Let this be the first day of the rest of your life with your new bride, Magnus. Do not let it be the day you killed a cousin because he threatened you. Let that be my privilege… Let it be the privilege for all of us. Magnus, this man has been making your life hell since you were a child. You have finally found happiness and he was intent on ruining it. I am an old warrior, my path to hell is already set. One or two more dead men on my soul will not matter, but you…you deserved better than what you received. This is our gift to you, lad…the gift of peace.”
Magnus was stunned. He looked around at the men of the Ludus Caledonia: Axel, the stern manager, Wendell and Milo who were long-time trainers, Aurelius and Tay and Galan who were his dear friends. And finally Lor and Bane, the best friends a man could ever have. Magnus had wondered where they’d gone to that morning and now he knew.
They had gone to protect him.
There was a lump in his throat at the realization.
“I should have known,” he said, looking to the men who had just saved his life. “I should have known that I was not alone, but it is the first time in my life when I can say that with confidence. As a man who never had friends until I came tae the Cal… Nay, as a man who never had brothers until I came tae the Cal. We are indeed a clan of brothers. Ye just proved it.”
Clegg put a meaty hand on Magnus’s shoulder. “In my case, it was purely selfish,” he said, handing his sword over to Axel because he was already exhausted having swung the thing. “Now, I will not have to send you to Berwick. You can remain here as my top warrior and continue to make me money. But for the rest of these men… Aye, they are your brothers. You are most fortunate, Magnus.”
As Magnus came to grips with what had happened, Axel approached Clegg. “And the bodies, my lord?” he asked. “What will you have me do with them?”
Clegg’s silver eyes surveyed the carnage. As a man of numerous battles, of negotiations, contracts, sieges, and surrenders, he knew better than anyone else what had to be done in a case like this.
It was a coldhearted but necessary command.
“Burn them,” he said quietly. “Burn everything and sink the ashes in the lake to the north. Find the carriage, for it must be nearby, and burn that, too. No trace, Axel.”
Axel understood. “No trace, my lord.”
With that, Axel, Wendell, and Milo headed off to summon some soldiers to help as Magnus went over to Lor, Bane, Galan, Tay, and Aurelius. They were all standing in a semicircle, surveying the ruins of their short-lived fight.
Magnus was feeling particularly emotional as he looked at them. They all meant a great deal to him even if they hadn’t saved his life and the life of Diantha.
His wife.
It occurred to him that they probably didn’t know that.
“Though we spend our nights fighting for money, it never occurred tae me that I’d actually be in a fight for my life here at the Cal,” he said, looking over at a headless Conan. “Certainly not like this.”
Lor was standing next to him. “Ye’re sure ye’re well?”
“I’m well. Why do ye ask?”
“I want tae make sure ye werena insulted by this,” he said. “Magnus, we all know ye are a legendary fighter, but even legendary fighters need help now and then. Ambrose was going tae go through ye tae get tae Diantha. Ye know that.”
Magnus nodded. “I know that,” he said. “I was prepared tae take him on alone, but even I knew the odds of me emerging from that unscathed werena good. I’m not offended by yer help, believe me. But ye should know something.”
“What?”
“I married Diantha last night. ’Tis my wife ye’re speaking of now.”
The congratulations came. Magnus was patted on the head, the shoulder, and someone slapped him on the rear hard enough to jolt him. He thought that might have been Aurelius, the big brute. He rubbed his arse, grinning at the men who were very happy for his good fortune. But as the congratulations went around, Magnus caught sight of Hugh, standing several feet away.
His smile faded as he locked gazes with the man, realizing Hugh had just seen his friends cut down Ambrose, Conan, and several armed guards with little effort. It had been a brutal takedown, but a necessary one.
He was certain that no one understood that better than Hugh.
At least, he hoped so.
Ambrose had tortured Hugh most of all.
“I’d like all of ye tae meet my da,” Magnus said, a smile spreading across his face. “I never thought I’d have the privilege of introducing ye tae him, but this is Hugh Stewart, Duke of Kintyre and Lorne.”
Attention turned to the older man who faintly resembled Magnus. It was Lor and Bane who first greeted him, followed by the rest. It wasn’t often that a duke was in their midst, Scottish royalty, but mostly they greeted the man warmly because he was Magnus’s father. He could have been a pauper for all they cared. But he was Magnus’s father and worthy of their respect, regardless of his lot in life.
Clegg greeted him as well, inviting him to Caelian Hill for food and refreshments. Ever the gracious host, Clegg insisted even when Hugh tried to beg off. Magnus simply laughed, waving his father on and assuring him he would join him soon. It was the only way Hugh would go.
He didn’t want to leave his son.
But Magnus wasn’t going anywhere.
Never again would they be separated. As he assured his father that he would join him as soon as Clegg dragged him away, he heard a shaken voice behind him.
“Magnus?”
Diantha was standing a few feet away, her eyes wide with terror at the carnage spread out. She wasn’t close enough to really see who the dead were, and Magnus quickly went to her, trying to block her view. He put his arms around her, turning her back for the cottage.
“Magnus, what happened?” she said, trying to look over her shoulder at the mess. “I heard voices and then I heard the fight. Are you well, querido? Were you hurt?”
“I’m not hurt,” he said. “Everything is fine now.”
Magnus managed to get her back to the front door of the cottage but she wouldn’t go any further. She dug her heels in, refusing to move.
“Magnus, please,” she begged softly. “Tell me what happened. Who are those men? Are they all dead?”
He cupped her face, forcin
g her to look at him. “Ambrose is among the dead,” he said steadily. “So is Conan. They were coming for ye, Bee. We had tae stop them.”
Diantha closed her eyes as the news settled in. She’d heard the skirmish from the cottage and she’d been absolutely terrified, knowing Magnus was in the middle of it. She was beyond relieved to know that he hadn’t been injured, but more than that, she realized that their troubles were over. Ambrose and Conan were dead. They’d come for her, as Magnus and everyone else knew they would, and they’d been punished for it.
We had tae stop them.
Tears streamed from her eyes.
“Dead?” she whispered. “They’re dead?”
“They are, sweet.”
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
“We will never have to fear them again?”
“Never.”
She broke down at the realization, weeping softly as Magnus held her. Her relief was too great for words. Years of captivity, of anguish and heartache, had just been ended.
For good.
She could hardly believe it.
Wiping at her eyes, Diantha struggled to reclaim her composure as her gaze fell on a group of men several feet away. They were all looking at her. Lor even raised his hand and gave her a brief wave.
It took Diantha a moment to realize that Magnus hadn’t been alone in his fight against Ambrose and Conan.
He’d had help.
“They…they helped you,” she said. “All of them… They helped you?”
Magnus turned to look at the group, smiling wearily. “They helped us,” he said. “They’re our family, Bee, and like any family, they’ll kill and die for ye. They werena going tae let Ambrose get tae ye.”
The impact of the situation sank deep and Diantha shook her head in wonder. “I can hardly believe it.”
He looked at her. “Why? Ye know they love us. Why should ye be surprised?”
Diantha shook her head, trying to put it into words. “I’ve been alone most of my life until now,” she said. “I’ve heard of other women having great friends and big families, but I never understood that until now. I never understood what the bonds of friendship and family could mean, but I do now. At least, I am learning.”
“We’re both learning,” Magnus said. “We have each other and we always will, but we also have a company of the greatest champions the world has ever seen. Our family, Bee. The Ludus Caledonia is many things, but the bond of warriors is its greatest strength. We saw that this morning.”
Those were among the greatest words Diantha had ever heard. As Magnus led her over to the group of men who had saved their very lives, all Diantha could see within them were the hearts and souls of true champions.
True brothers.
With an Eagle to lead them all.
Epilogue
The Month of April
Year of Our Lord 1489
“Fight, Mama! Fight!”
Nikki was straining against his mother, wanting very much to go onto the field where his father was training with a new group of recruits and some of the Ludus Caledonia’s elite fighters. Magnus, Bane, Galan, Tay, and Aurelius were on the arena floor, demonstrating technique.
But Nikki wanted to join them—badly.
Isabail was having a difficult time holding on to him as Diantha and Lucia sat together, each with a twin. They were starting to walk now, so it was imperative to have a good grip, as Diantha had learned. It was excellent practice for her, considering her own baby was due in about three months.
As Isabail struggled with Nikki, in a basket beside her an infant let out a cry. Her newborn, Knox, had the lungs of a bear, or so his father said. Named after Isabail’s great-grandfather, he had a crown of dark-red hair. Isabail had two big, healthy boys on her hands and Lor could not have been prouder.
But Isabail was exhausted.
“I’m taking the bairns back tae the cottage,” she said, trying to hang on to Nikki while picking up her infant basket. “I’ll be—”
She was cut off when Nikki burst free and began rushing down the steps of the lists toward his father. Isabail knew she couldn’t catch him, so she didn’t even try. She shouted down to Lor on the arena floor, warning him of the incoming child.
Lor, seeing his firstborn charging toward him, went to intercept the boy. But Nikki didn’t want his father; he wanted Bane’s sword. He always wanted Bane’s sword. Bane dutifully handed over the heavy, dull gladius and the child dragged it away, happy.
Even from the lists, the women could see the men down below, smiling at the child who very much wanted to do what his father and his father’s friends were doing. Nikki was becoming the mascot for the warriors with his unbridled enthusiasm and glee, and he was well loved by all.
As Diantha watched the little boy among the warriors, Lucia tapped her on the arm.
“Bee,” she said. “Look… ’Tis Hugh.”
Diantha turned around to see Hugh entering the lists with his wife in tow, the lovely and sweet Fia. Diantha immediately stood up, with the baby on her hip, and made her way up the stairs to them.
“Good morn,” she called, waving at them.
Hugh and Fia caught sight of her and quickly headed in her direction. “Good morn, Bee,” he said. “’Tis a lovely day. How is my grandson?”
Diantha beamed. She had truly come to love Hugh and Fia over the past several months, generous and kind people who traveled from Edinburgh at least three times a week to watch Magnus fight.
Never had they pressured Magnus to be anything other than what he wanted to be, even though he was heir to a substantial dukedom now. They had only expressed their pride in what he was—a great warrior—and they had gone out of the way to support him. It was as if they were making up for lost time, something that had overwhelmed Magnus at first because he wasn’t used to having his father around, or any parents for that matter. But both he and Diantha had grown to love the pair.
Nowadays, it was as if there had never been any separation at all.
“Your grandson is well.” Diantha rubbed her rounded belly. “He keeps me up at night, however. He likes to kick.”
Hugh burst out laughing. “Like his father,” he said. “He is already practicing kicking people in the head.”
Diantha giggled. “That is true,” she said, turning her attention to Fia. “Good morn to you, Fia.”
Fia McDonald Stewart, Duchess of Kintyre and Lorne, was a genuinely sweet and docile creature, beautiful to a fault. She looked very much like her son with her dark-green eyes and wavy hair, and it was clear where Magnus had gotten his comely looks. They were the proudest parents in Scotland these days, and Diantha had been thrilled with their addition to their lives.
It was as marvelous as she could have hoped for.
As she sat with Fia and Hugh, Magnus was down below on the arena floor, watching the trio with pride. Every time he saw the three of them, he could hardly believe how rich his life had become.
Rich with love, rich with family.
But he was forced to look away when Lor had him demonstrate an advanced technique to subdue a man without using a weapon, and in this case, it was Galan. After he shoved Galan’s face into the dirt to finish the move, Lor sent his novicius back into the holding area with Tay and Aurelius.
For today, the lesson was over.
“The duke has returned,” Bane said, coming up behind Magnus as he looked up to the stands. “The man has barely missed a night in all these months.”
Magnus pulled Galan up into a sitting position as the man brushed dirt off his face. “He’s making up for lost time,” he said. “But I dunna mind. We’ve had many long, meaningful discussions and I feel as if I know him well. He’s a good man.”
Bane nodded. He, too, had engaged in a few discussions with Hugh over the past several months and he genuinely liked
the man. “I’m curious,” he said. “Does he ever bring up Ambrose?”
Magnus shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “He only brought up Ambrose’s widow once, tae say she’s living a good life now. Her wicked husband and son have vanished without a trace, and she’s evidently grateful for it.”
Bane chuckled softly, removing a piece of leather protection he had on his forearm. But his gaze returned to the duke, up in the lists and chatting amiably with Diantha.
“Ye told me once that yer da was a rebel,” he said after a moment. “The man doesna look like a rebel tae me.”
Magnus grinned. “What does a rebel look like?”
Bane shrugged. “I dunna know,” he said. “I always imagined them tae look like us—barbarians.”
Magnus laughed softly. “Sometimes rebels are in sheep’s clothing,” he said. “Though my da hasna actually discussed his relationship with the king with me, in the few comments he has made, I get the sense that he’s very much in the constant state of rebellion I was always told of. There are things he doesna approve of.”
“He’s not tried tae pull ye intae it?”
Magnus shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “But something tells me it will come up at some point.”
“What are ye going tae tell him if he wants ye tae side with him?”
Magnus shrugged, unfastening his gloves. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I never planned tae stay at the Cal forever, even before I knew my da. When he passes on, I’ll become the Duke of Kintyre and Lorne, and responsibilities come with that. Will I side with my uncle, the king? I canna say, but that’s a long way off. I’m happy where I am, at this moment.”
Bane’s gaze moved to Diantha, sitting beside Fia. “But what about yer wife?” he asked Magnus. “Is she happy?”
“Of course she is. Why do ye ask?”
Bane shrugged. “Something Lucia said,” he replied. “She mentioned that Diantha still wants tae return tae Santacara. Ye married her, so it’s yer property now, too. I’ve always wanted tae go tae Navarre. Mayhap when ye go, I’ll go with ye.”
Highland Legend Page 26
