Spectre of the Sword (43 page)

Time had run out. 
Lawrence lifted his sword. And then….

The first arrow hit
Lawrence in the back.  As he lurched sideways, the second one hit him in the
ribs just below his right arm. He pitched sideways and his sword clattered to
the ground as Elizabeau shrieked , realizing her head was still intact. But a
split second of shock gave way to a grinding sense of self-preservation and she
bolted to her feet, turning to see Lawrence writhing on the ground several feet
away.

His sword was a few feet
away and she swooped on it, taking the very sharp and heavy weapon in two
hands.  She almost dropped it the first time from sheer nerves but managed to
get a hold of it on the second try. About the time she turned in Rhys’
direction, she could see two arrows hitting the men around him and Rhys
exploded to his feet like a mad man.  Elizabeau dashed in his direction with
several soldiers in pursuit.

The bailey decayed into
chaos as more arrows began to fly.  Lewis was hit in the shoulder but it was
not a bad wound; he rushed at Rhys as the man threw off his captors, still
bound, still with the rope around his neck.   But Lewis had his sword up and
drawn, his intentions toward Rhys obvious.  Rhys could not defend himself, but
he could evade the man’s frontal onslaught. As he bolted in Elizabeau’s
direction, Lewis moved to cut him off and, out of desperation, Rhys hit the
ground with the intention of rolling into Lewis’ shins and taking his feet out
from under him.  But Elizabeau saw what was happening and, having no idea what
Rhys was doing,  panicked and took the heavy sword in her hands and heaved it
with all of her might at Lewis.

It flew through the air
awkwardly, flipping end over end. Lewis never saw the spinning blade coming; he
only knew what had happened when it sailed straight into his neck and lodged
there.  The man collapsed in a heap, his head half-severed by the extremely
sharp blade. More arrows flew overhead as Elizabeau reached Rhys and the dying
Lewis. She nearly fell atop Rhys as she struggled to untie his hands.

“Are you all right?” he
ripped his hands free as the bindings as they came loose. “You weren’t hurt,
were you?”

She shook her head as he
wrenched the sword out of Lewis’ neck and turned to her. “Nay,” she gasped,
terrified at all of the men running around them.  But her gaze inevitably fell
on Lewis, the man she had half-killed.  She felt ill at the sight of him. “You
cannot leave him like this.  You must help him.”

Lewis’ eyes were open,
gazing up at the lady and her knight.  He was beyond any help. “Be… merciful,
du Bois,” he mumbled thickly. “Be swift.”

Rhys gazed down at the
man emotionlessly.  “For the courtesy you have shown the lady and me, I will
ensure that you feel no pain.”

Lewis simply closed his
eyes in response.  Pushing Elizabeau out of the way, Rhys stood up and the
blade sailed over his head.   Elizabeau turned away as it came down, finishing
what she had started and severing Lewis’ neck from his body.   Elizabeau kept
her back to the scene; she couldn’t bear to look.  As Rhys put his massive arm
around her in preparation for fleeing, a body suddenly came flying out at them
with a crossbow in hand and Rhys leveled the sword in the man’s direction.

“Wait!” David shouted,
pulling off the wrap that was around his head, disguising him.  “It’s me!”

Rhys exhaled sharply and
lowered the blade. “Thank God,” he muttered. “Where’s Geist?”

David shook his head,
grabbing Elizabeau by the arm. “I do not know. But we must get her out of
here.”

Rhys didn’t argue. 
Together, the three of them raced across the bailey towards the kitchen yard
where a charger waited at the postern gate. Crossing into the kitchen yard,
they were met by several household soldiers and a loud, violent battle ensued. David
tossed the crossbow to Elizabeau as he unsheathed his sword, but Rhys was
already tearing into several well-armed men. When one man came too close to
Elizabeau, she whacked him across the face with the crossbow and he dropped to
the ground. It was then that she realized there was one arrow still in the
second chamber of the weapon and, after taking a few moments to figure out how
the thing worked, she launched it at one of the men battling Rhys.

Elizabeau’s aim was
slightly off due to her shaking hands and the arrow sailed a little too close
to Rhys’ head. It zoomed within inches of his ear and hit one of his
challengers in the neck.  Startled, Rhys took his eyes off his enemies for a
brief second to shoot Elizabeau an exasperated look.  She smiled sheepishly.

He couldn’t help but
grin at her, returning to the fight with more vigor than before. But his grin
vanished when Elizabeau suddenly joined the fight, bashing men in the face and
neck with the empty crossbow. She was howling like a madwoman and as Rhys
dispatched the last opponent, he turned to grab her around the waist and carry
her away from the scene.  

“What in the hell are
you doing?” he demanded, setting her on her feet as they neared the postern
gate. “You’re going to get yourself killed, you silly wench.”

She shook herself free
of his grasp, facing him with the stubbornness he had become very familiar
with. “What are you complaining about? I helped you, did I not?”

He cocked a disapproving
eyebrow at her, not having the time or energy to argue as he turned to see how
David was doing.  The blond knight was in the process of breaking down his last
opponent, but there were more rushing in from the main bailey and Rhys yelled
at him.

“David!” he shouted.
“Come now!”

With one last swipe at
the king’s soldier, David bolted off in their direction.  He was swinging the
sword and hollering like a crazy man, giving off a frightening appearance to
those who would think to chase after him.   When he reached Rhys and Elizabeau,
he practically shoved the lady towards the gate.

“Let’s go,” he yanked
the postern gate open and barreled through first to make sure no one was
waiting for them on the other side. Seeing it was clear, he reached out and
pulled the lady through. “Come along, my lady. No time to stand around.”

Elizabeau tripped in her
haste but caught herself.  Rhys was right behind her, his big hands and
enormous arms hovering over her protectively. David had the charger tethered to
a small sapling near the wall and he quickly untied the animal, holding it
steady as Rhys gently mounted Elizabeau. Rhys was preparing to mount behind her
when a growl near the gate stopped him.

“Stay where you are.”

Rhys, David and
Elizabeau turned to see Lawrence standing in the open gate. He had two arrows
sticking out of him and was bleeding profusely, but he had one advantage the
rest of them did not have – a wicked looking crossbow, both barrels loaded,
that was aimed straight at Elizabeau. 

David, hands raised,
stepped towards him. “What in the hell are you doing?” he demanded softly.

Lawrence fixed on David,
a man he had known and served for many years.  He was probably the closest
thing he had to a brother. “Finishing what I started, of course.”

David stared at him,
lowering his hands and shaking his head in disgust. “In God’s name, what
possessed you to betray my brother as you have?” he hissed. “He has been your
friend for years, Lawrence. He accepted your fealty when no one else would,
after your wife had died and you drowned yourself in drink every night until
you were useless. Is this how you repay his loyalty? By betraying him?  You
sicken me.”

 “My reasons are my own,
David,” Lawrence said quietly, though he now trained the crossbow on David’s
chest. “You would not understand them.”

“You are right; I would
not,” David snapped. “There is no reason great enough to explain what you have
done.”

Lawrence was gravely
injured; that much was obvious.  No one could understand how he was still on
his feet with two arrows in him. But he smiled weakly at David, a rare gesture.
It was also a frightening one. Then he looked pensive. “I suppose not,” he
murmured.  “But I have my reasons nonetheless and they have nothing to do with
Chris or you.  They are my own.”

David was growing
increasingly livid. “I simply cannot believe what I am seeing,” he seethed. “If
you have any measure of dignity left in you, then you will let us leave in
peace.  At least show some repentance for what you have done.”

Lawrence smile faded and
his body, weakened, began to visibly shake. The crossbow moved back in
Elizabeau’s direction and an arrow suddenly let fly; it sailed close to Elizabeau’s
head and she shrieked, covering her face as if her hands would protect her from
the projectile.  In the process, she lost her balance and toppled off the
charger.  Rhys caught her before she hit the ground, cradling her against his
chest and turning his back on Lawrence to protect her. 

But Lawrence’s attention
remained fixed on David and the crossbow reacquired the target of David’s
chest.  The weapon twitched and wavered as Lawrence grew progressively
unsteady.  But he still remained resolute. 

David could see that
there was no reasoning with the man. “How much?” he asked after a moment,
distain in his voice. “How much were you promised to betray Chris and kill the
lady?”

Lawrence was so unsteady
that his words were shaky. “It wasn’t betrayal as much as it was a decision. 
Chris offered me friendship and service, but I would never gain wealth or
status through him.  The older I grew and the more my son grew, I realized that
I needed something to leave him. He deserves whatever I can provide and I was
offered both wealth and status in exchange for helping the king retain his
crown.  Is that a satisfactory explanation?”

David just shook his
head; he was still having difficulty believing it all. “I cannot comprehend why
you would do this to us, Lawrence. You were like family.”

“But the fact remains
that I am not your family, nor do I gain anything of value from our
association. I had to think of my legacy and I am sorry that you cannot
understand that.”

“I understand it.  But
you never even expressed an interest in such things to Chris or me. At least
you could have given us the courtesy of trying to provide you with what you
wanted.  You never even gave us the chance.”

Lawrence’s manner grew
dark, as if he was suddenly fighting off a strong surge of remorse.  His
balance failed him for a moment but he quickly recovered, keeping the weapon
trained on David. 

“It is of no matter,” he
muttered. “I must do what I believe best for me and my son.”

David could see how
unsteady he was growing.  He eyed the crossbow. “You only have two arrows in
that. There are three of us.”

Lawrence was struggling
to maintain his hold on the crossbow as his strength, and life, drained away. 
“One arrow for you and one for Rhys.  I have a dagger for the lady.”

“One arrow isn’t going
to fell me and it certainly isn’t going to fell Rhys. We’ll kill you before you
can get to her.”

Lawrence knew his time
was limited.  His vision was already growing dark. “We shall see,” he mumbled.

David knew they were at
an end.  He waited for the arrow to come flying out at him, wondering if he
could turn himself in a way that it would do the least damage. He heard a sharp
snap and waited for the searing pain as the projectile plowed into him, but
nothing happened. In fact, Lawrence suddenly dropped the crossbow and pitched
face-first onto the grass. 

A long, thin arrow was
jutting out of the back of Lawrence’s neck.  Astonished, David looked up to see
Geist standing in the open postern gate entrance with an empty crossbow in his
hand.

“Jesus,” David hissed,
pulling Lawrence’s crossbow out of the grass just in case the man decided to
rise again.  “You came along just in time. He was going to kill us all.”

Geist stepped over
Lawrence’s supine form, hardly giving the man a second look.  His gaze moved to
Rhys and the lady just as Rhys was setting her to her feet; they were both
shaken but unharmed.  But now was not the time to relax.

“There are more men
behind me,” he said urgently. “You must make haste from this place.”

Rhys knew he was right;
any delay, no matter how small – even to feel their momentary relief – could be
the difference between life and death. They were still in danger.  Without a
word, he picked Elizabeau up again, wearily, and kissed her on the cheek before
depositing her onto the back of the charger. 

David watched the
movements of the man, knowing that for as grateful as Rhys was for their lives,
now came the reality of turning Elizabeau over to Conrad. It made all else they
had been through pale by comparison, which was the truly ironic thing – he had
saved her, in so many ways, and would never enjoy the rewards of his labor. 
Knowing what the man had gone through over the past few months, how tormented
he had been, David put his hand on Rhys’ arm as the man prepared to mount.

“Wait,” he said
quietly.  “Let me take her back.  You and Geist can make your way back to the
approaching army on foot. They should not be too far away if they departed as
planned.”