CHAPTER NINETEEN
At the garden gate that opened into the bailey, Grace stood with her ladies, wondering why there was an army in the yard of The Wix that wasn’t the Colchester army. In fact, there were men she’d never seen before, all of them backed up against the walls, waiting, anticipating. Confused, Grace peered around the gate to see a very large knight in conversation with Sir Rickard as well as her husband.
But it wasn’t just any conversation.
Having just come down from the upper floors with her women, including Lady Juliana on a makeshift stretcher carried between two servants, they had come down into confusion and commotion in the bailey. Her women didn’t know who the army was and the servants couldn’t seem to tell her anything, either, so she sent one of her women to hunt down a Colchester soldier to find out what was going on. It didn’t take long for Lady Cecily to return.
“What is happening?” Grace demanded as Cecily came scurrying back to her.
Cecily was winded from having run, but also from her general excitement of the situation. “It seems that Sir Garret de Moray has come to challenge the duke, my lady,” she said, apprehension in her voice. “He is trying to fight him!”
Grace realized that was the identity of the big knight – de Moray! Remaining tucked back behind the gate for the most part, using the walls as a shield, Grace could hear her husband’s agitated voice but not his words. Having been told of the attraction between Sir Rickard’s brother and Lady Lyssa by Rose, she was somewhat informed of the situation but she had to admit she was quite surprised to see de Moray. No man challenged her husband and lived to tell the tale.
But de Moray was doing just that.
There was something inherently pleasing in that realization.
“So the lover has come to challenge my husband?” she muttered with some astonishment. “Rose? Did you hear?”
Rose was standing several feet behind her, holding Juliana’s hand. She hadn’t heard Cecily’s report. But when she heard her name spoken, she gently released Juliana’s hand and made her way to Grace’s side.
“You called, my lady?” she said, but as soon as the words left her lips, she caught sight of Garret in the bailey. “God’s Bones! What is Garret doing here?”
Grace couldn’t seem to take her eyes of the big knight. “Cecily says that the soldiers say he has come to fight my husband,” she said. “Could it really be true?”
Rose was immediately distressed. “But he cannot,” she gasped. “The duke is beyond reproach!”
Grace knew that. Jago had known it, too, which was why he was able to commit so many heinous acts. He knew there would be no one to punish him. But as she looked at Garret, calm in the face of her husband’s ranting, her heart swelled with gratitude. Finally, a man strong enough to stand up to her husband in a world where the ranks of the nobility were sheltered from such things.
“He must have come because of your niece,” she said. “He must be here to take his revenge for my husband having touched her.”
Rose was horrified at the mere suggestion. In fact, it brought her right down to the worse-case scenario. “Or revenge for her death,” she whispered, struggling to swallow away that fear. “Please, God… do not let her be dead.”
Grace knew that Rose was worried for her niece and she reached out to take the woman’s hand comfortingly. “We cannot worry about that now, I fear,” she said. “We must make haste to the stables and leave this place.”
Rose looked at all of the men in the bailey. “But the army is blocking the gate. We cannot get to it.”
“They will move out of the way.”
“But the duke will see us!”
Grace’s dark eyes glimmered as she watched the activity in the distance between her husband and Garret de Moray. Whatever was happening seemed to be quite intense and her delight in the situation grew. The outcome she supported in this situation had nothing to do with her husband triumphing. It had everything to do with him failing. If she could help in any way, she would.
In fact… she had an idea. She should have had the same idea a long time ago, but it had never been the right time. But now… the time was right.
This was her moment.
“My husband has more pressing issues on his hands than us,” she assured Rose. “We shall be the very last of his worries, even if he is to see us.”
Rose wasn’t convinced but she didn’t argue. “Aye, my lady.”
Grace turned back for the manse. “Start moving the women to the stables.”
Rose was confused. “Where do you go, my lady?”
“Do as I say. I shall join you when I can.”
Rose watched the woman continue towards the darkened manse but she didn’t spare more thought to the reason behind it. She had several women depending on her, including an injured one, and she needed to move them to safety.
Quietly, and with stealth, the women began to move out.
*
Whack!
Garret didn’t give Rickard time to set up a strong defensive position before he was charging his brother, sailing that heavy broadsword over his head with both hands and coming down on Rickard’s shield like a battering ram.
Rickard’s teeth knocked together at the force of the blow. He found himself in the very bad position of being under his brother intense pressure as Garret came down on him. In that instant, he saw what made his brother so deadly. He was fast and he was strong, and Rickard’s thoughts of surviving the day had just magnified tenfold. With Garret pummeling him, he wasn’t entirely sure that was possible.
In fact, it only grew worse. Garret had said he was going to disable his brother and it was clear he had set out to do just that. Rickard was trying desperately to get out from underneath him but Garret wouldn’t let him; he hammered at his shield, keeping him down, while slipping a booted foot behind him and tripping him up. Rickard sprawled on the ground, rolling out of the way just as Garret brought down the hilt of his sword in the spot where his head had been.
Rickard was struggling not to panic. It had been a very long time since he’d been in a battle. In fact, it had been several years and, because of that, he honestly didn’t train like he should to remain at the ready. He spent most of his days supervising men, not practicing with them, and he could see what a problem that was going to be. Garret practiced constantly and it showed. Already, Rickard was winded and trying desperately to stay away from his brother.
The battle went on but, unfortunately, it was more of Garret chasing Rickard around. The army from Westminster and the Colchester army had blended together somehow, creating a vast circle around the two knights who were battling it out in the center of the bailey. It was evident early on that Garret was the superior warrior even though Rickard was putting in a valiant effort. When Garret finally knocked the sword out of Rickard’s hand, followed by his brother’s shield, he dropped both his shield and his weapon and charged Rickard with his hands. Now, it was a fistfight, and the punches began to fly.
Over on the outskirts of the battle, Gart, Rhys, Knox, Gavin, and Zayin stood with Walter and Hugh de Winter, all of them watching the fight very closely. No one wanted to say what they were thinking – that it was only a matter of time before Garret defeated his brother and moved on Colchester – but it was evident that was where the situation was leading. They were going to watch Garret disable his brother and then be witness to a murder. An outright murder, even if well-deserved, would still reflect badly on Garret no matter what the circumstance. As the group watched Garret knock his brother down and pounce on him, Walter turned to Hugh de Winter.
“He will go after Colchester now,” he muttered.
Hugh nodded faintly. “Aye, he will.”
“It will be murder. You know this.”
“I do.”
“Murder of a man of royal blood by a mere knight.”
Hugh sighed, a faint and regretful gesture. “What do you suggest?”
“That we do not give him the opportunity.”
Hugh looked at him, his aged eyes crinkling as his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean we should protect Garret. Take out his target before he can.”
Hugh was intrigued. “How?”
Walter turned to Zayin, who was standing next to him, watching the fight with a good deal of apprehension.
“Zayin,” Walter whispered, bringing the man into their private circle. “You have said that you owe Garret a debt because he saved your life. You said this was the reason you accompanied him from The Levant. Is there truth in this?”
Zayin nodded, instantly attuned to the reason for the question. He sensed there was something of a plan afoot simply by the look in their eyes. “What will you have me do, rabi?” he asked. “Do you wish for me to help him?”
Walter was very cool, very casual. “Aye, but you cannot let him know,” he muttered. “Take du Bois with you and take your crossbows. Find the highest point on these walls and take aim at Colchester. Do not miss.”
Zayin was vastly pleased with the command. “Destroy the reason for the battle?”
Walter shook his head. “Destroy the man who will destroy Garret,” he said. “Either way, Garret will lose – his reputation or his life – and a man like Colchester is not worth Garret’s sacrifice, not in any circumstance. And that is what this comes down to.”
It was the truth. Either way, Garret was ruined – if he killed Colchester or if Colchester killed him. Zayin looked at Walter, knowing that the man’s sole purpose was to protect Richard’s kingdom from men like Colchester. Perhaps that was the way he looked at this; he was simply protecting Richard in the same stroke as protecting Garret. In any case, it was time to end it and Zayin was prepared.
This was the moment he’d been waiting for – to save Garret’s life as Garret had once saved his.
“Aye, rabi,” he said softly. “It shall be done.”
“Quickly, now.”
Zayin dashed off, grabbing Rhys by the arm and pulling the man with him. When Gart tried to follow, Walter waved him off. Frustrated, Gart remained, wondering where Rhys and Zayin were going and wanting to be part of it, but he stilled himself and watched the systematic defeat of one brother by another, for it was truly something to behold.
He wondered if Rickard and Garret’s relationship would ever recover from it.
That was doubtful because in the dirt of the bailey, Rickard was taking a beating, both physically and emotionally. He was being humiliated on a wide scale. Part of Garret’s strategy had been to keep him on the ground, and it had worked very well. He’d been on the ground a good deal of the time, trying to get up as Garret beat on him. Once or twice, he caught a glimpse of Colchester standing near the manse entry, watching the fight and knowing the man was ashamed of his captain. Only a weakling would remain on the ground for so long, so Rickard had a fair idea that Colchester was disappointed in him for his performance. Truth was, he was disappointed in himself, too. But rather than accept defeat, the de Moray determination stirred in his blood. He wasn’t willing to let his brother humiliate him any longer.
Grabbing a handful of dust on the ground, he tossed it up into Garret’s eyes when the man came down low for a punch. With dirt in his eyes, Garret stumbled back and it gave Rickard the moment he needed to get on his feet. Garret was blind, essentially, and Rickard used it to his advantage, pouncing on Garret from behind and grabbing him around the neck. He then threw his brother to the ground, still keeping his arms around the man’s neck in a stranglehold.
“Kill him!” Colchester screamed from his position. “Kill him, de Moray!”
Rickard had Garret in a bad position; he knew if he squeezed hard enough, he could render him unconscious and even snap his neck, but he didn’t want to do that. Not even because he’d just spent the past several minutes being beaten and humiliated. He simply wanted his brother to stop and go back to Westminster where he belonged. But Garret was struggling and Rickard wrapped his legs around the man, holding on as tightly as he could while Garret tried to break free. He wasn’t going to let him go because he knew if he did, Garret would show him no mercy.
“I said kill him!” Colchester had come away from the entry, moving towards the grappling knights. “What are you waiting for, Rickard? I command you to kill him!”
Rickard heard the command but he ignored it. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, kill his own brother.
“Stop fighting, Garret,” he hissed in his brother’s ear. “Stop fighting!”
But Garret wasn’t listening. He threw a fist back into Rickard’s nose, bringing instant blood as Rickard’s hold was broken. As Rickard fell back, Garret wrested himself free and turned on the man, attacking him yet again. In truth, he only wanted Rickard to stop fighting back and he knew if he pummeled him enough, he might just do that. A dazed man cannot struggle and that was Garret’s goal because when he was sure Rickard was done fighting, he would go after Colchester.
It was time to end this.
But he never got the chance. As Garret beat down his brother, Grace suddenly emerged from the entry. Jago never saw her; nor did Garret or Rickard, or really any of the men watching the fight. They were so focused on the knights that no one noticed one small woman in a black dress, blending in to the dark night, coming from the manse and moving towards Jago.
In fact, Jago never saw it coming. One moment he was standing there and in the next, someone tapped in him on the shoulder. When he turned around, there was a large dagger thrust into gut. With arteries in his belly severed, he hardly had time to turn to take another breath. The last thing Jago de Nantes, Duke of Colchester, ever saw was his wife’s face as she watched him die.
A hint of a smile on her lips told him that she was glad of it.