Chapter Seventeen #3
“My liege,” they said, lowering their heads briefly in respect before the tallest of the bunch spoke for the lot of them, his inky dark gaze direct and unflinching.
Almost, to my watchful eye, confrontational.
“And what crusade would that be, my liege?” the man responded.
As expected, the tavern slowly quieted, allowing all to hear our conversation.
“Why, to weed out the Norse who dinnae love our country as much as us from these shores,” he exclaimed robustly, calling out to the innkeeper to bring them all a whisky on him.
“’Tis said you have been warning villages far and wide of a group of unsettled Norse.
” He cocked his head. “If ‘tis true, your king and country couldnae be more appreciative.
‘Twould be most helpful if you could tell me more, as my men and I are in pursuit of them.”
“Aye, ‘twas us,” one of the men boasted proudly before the tallest could respond. “And you are most welcome, my king.”
“Aye,” the tallest agreed, looking me over with disgust. “Though ‘tis unfortunate to see you with the likes of that one, given the havoc her people continue to reap on our country. First at the Battle of Largs—” he shook his head ruefully, talking loud enough for all to hear— “and then, though I didnae want to be the one to bring such dire news, but to innocent people not far from this village. Not even warriors who could defend themselves, but helpless farmers!”
Gasps of astonishment and confusion rippled through the crowd, as everyone wondered what he meant, yet again confirming that we had been the first ones on the scene.
Although fully aware that Declan shifted even closer to me, I kept my gaze fixed on the monsters in front of me because every last one of them was.
My talisman need not warm, as it did now, to tell me that.
All were formidable enough, except the shortest, least muscular of the bunch.
Shifty-eyed, he seemed ready to bolt, and I couldn’t blame him.
“Aye, I was at the Battle of Largs and ‘twill never happen again under my watch,” Alexander vowed, tilting his head in confusion. “Yet I didnae know ‘twas Norse who attacked those poor people a ways back. What proof do you have, as I will surely punish them upon capture?”
“There were Norse scribblings,” another one of the men slurred, drunk to be sure.
“So there cannae be any doubt, my liege.” His eyes rounded in disbelief, and he shook his head.
“Who else would do such in these parts?” He gestured at me flippantly, too bold by half, given who he spoke to and the well-armed men surrounding us.
“Yet you travel with a heathen, so mayhap you cannae see things all that clearly, my king.”
Alexander held up a hand sharply, ceasing Declan and Stewart when they unsheathed their blades, and remained perfectly calm, still speaking loudly enough for all to hear. “I fear I dinnae ken of what you speak.” Sounding confused, he shook his head. “I saw no such writing, nor did any of my men.”
I braced myself for someone in the crowd to deny it, meaning someone had witnessed the carnage before us, but if they had, no one spoke up.
“You lie,” the tallest man seethed, his gaze narrowing on King Alexander. “I know you lie because—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Gustav, of all people, whipped a blade into his windpipe, declaring no man call his king a liar, startling not just us but the entire room.
As expected, mayhem ensued, and people scrambled to get out the door as the man dropped to his knees, then swiftly to his death.
Things happened so quickly after that, amid all the chaos, that I barely had my sword unsheathed to defend the king, only to find it knocked out of my hand by the one man I had underestimated.
I knew better, too, but by then it was too late.
The shifty-eyed Scotsman yanked me back against him before I had a chance to retaliate and drove a dagger through my midsection.
“Nay!” Declan roared, whipping his own blade straight into the man’s forehead when Oksana came out of nowhere, latched onto his wrist, and gave Declan the window of opportunity he needed.
“Protect the king!” I roared back at him when the man fell to his death, hardly feeling the searing pain I knew would come as I yanked the blade free, tossed it aside, and staggered back. “Now!”
In the meantime, the other men we had confronted unsheathed their blades and started toward both the king and me.
Though Declan’s tortured gaze lingered on me for a moment, by the grace of his God, he listened, only for the unexpected to happen when daggers slammed into the four remaining Scotsmen from out of seemingly nowhere.
Though in a mad frenzy to defend their king, most of Alexander’s men were unable to reach him in the mayhem, except for Declan, Stewart, and three others, who appeared to be nothing more than merchantmen, all taking up defensive positions around both Alexander and me.
“’Tis them,” someone called out. “They are the men who felled those who meant to slay the king!”
When my vision blurred, I squinted to see them better and gasped in surprise, never more shocked by who they turned out to be.