Chapter 16 #2
Tormand looked as if he wanted to argue but was stopped from doing so by the return of Wallace and Gowan.
It took several rounds of discussion to decide what to do next.
Simon mused that it was fortunate Henry and Walter were waiting for their allies to appear or there would be no one to battle with if the king’s men continued to just discuss fighting and not actually do it, and Simon said as much.
Within moments they were creeping through the wood, planning to move around Walter and Henry until they encircled them.
When Simon finally saw his brother, Walter, and the men they had with him, he knew they could win this fight.
It was the first moment since they had sprung the trap in the dungeons and caught only soldiers that he had felt so confident.
Some of the men looked tough, confident, and ready to fight.
Simon suspected they were swordsmen for hire, men long overdue for a hanging who would rather die by the sword than be taken prisoner.
There were about a dozen men from Lochancorrie, Walter had said, and Simon suspected they were the ones huddled together looking as if they wanted to be anywhere but there.
Even better, Henry and Walter were arguing.
The alliance they had made was shattering.
Simon drew his sword and prepared to face his elder brother on an even footing for the first time in his life.
“They have deserted us,” said Walter, looking at what was not even half of the army they had been promised. “We have verra few o’er what we gathered ourselves.”
“Aye, I think my wee brother has been verra busy,” Henry murmured.
“What do ye mean?”
“I believe our allies in this are now a wee bit busy trying to protect their own necks.” “They have been arrested?!”
Henry looked at Walter, who had gone pale and was beginning to sweat.
“That would be my guess, aye. I suspect we can thank your cousin for that. He probably squealed like a pig on the butchering block. I told ye that ye should have killed the fool but ye believed David would ne’er betray ye, e’en though ye betrayed him by tossing him to the wolves. ”
“Then we should be fleeing this place, nay standing here ready to face the king’s men. We dinnae have enough soldiers for a fight like that. We should be headed for the coast and hie ourselves off to France until we can face Simon and Gowan and their men.”
“I hadnae realized what a coward ye are.”
“Nay a coward. A mon who can see that we are-nae ready yet. We need more men, more power, more money. In France we would be safe and could make new plans.”
“This is my new plan. We stand and fight and take down the best men the king has to offer. Then we take the king.”
“Ye are still thinking Simon is the lad ye bullied and drove from home years ago. He isnae that boy anymore. He is a mon many fear and he has brought many a mon to the gallows. The king listens to him. He willnae heed us if we try to say Sir Simon is wrong. Sir Simon is never wrong. If we lose this battle and he drags us afore the king, we had best say our prayers for we are naught but dead men.”
“Walter, I am going to give you two choices.” Henry looked at Walter and nodded when the man paled even more, so much so that he looked ready to faint.
“Ye can stand and fight like a mon or ye can have me cut your cursed throat to stop your whining.
‘Tis a boring way to shut the mouth of a coward but I havenae the time to do it as I wish, and to use ye to show these men that cowardice willnae be tolerated.”
Walter opened his mouth to respond only to squeak out a warning. “They are here. ‘Tis too late to do anything to save ourselves.”
Simon stepped out into the clearing where his brother and Walter stood with their small army.
He was not surprised when the men from Lochancorrie immediately dropped their weapons and surrendered.
It was possible that the sight of Wallace alive and fighting on the side of the king’s men made them see a chance to get out of the trap Henry had put them in.
Once the men from Lochancorrie surrendered, a great many others did as well.
Simon left Gowan, Peter, and Tormand to deal with the others while he stepped up to face Henry.
Henry smiled and Simon had to fight a fear left from a childhood scarred by this man.
Walter had warned Henry that he mistook Simon for the boy he had been the last time Henry had seen him, but Simon knew he suffered something similar.
He, too, saw himself as that boy, the one who had never been able to get the best of Henry.
He stiffened his spine as he reminded himself of all he had accomplished in the years since Henry had left him broken and bloodied to die on the bed where he had been caught lying with Henry’s wife.
“Weel met, little brother,” drawled Henry, and drew his sword.
“I am going to ask ye to surrender to the king’s justice, Henry,” Simon said as he and his brother began to circle each other in preparation for a fight that Simon knew would be to the death unless he could bring Henry down in a way that allowed capture instead of immediate execution.
“Aye, ye would, wouldnae ye?” Henry chuckled and it was not a pleasant sound. “Ye may get my cowardly partner Walter to do so, but I have nay wish to hand myself o’er to the verra king I meant to kill. If I must die, I will do so by your sword. Here. Now.”
Henry had barely finished speaking when he lunged.
Simon parried the attack and the fight began in earnest. He did his best to keep from getting wounded by his brother, knowing that Henry would move in for the kill as quickly as any adder.
Henry would not be held back by the fact that they were of the same blood, born of the same mother.
It soon became evident, however, that, like so many who depended on fear and intimidation, Henry had not honed his skills with a sword over the years. Simon had.
It was not until he was soaked in sweat and growing concerned that he might tire before Henry when luck gave Simon the chance he had been waiting for.
Henry stumbled over a collapsed Walter, who was sprawled in the dirt whimpering over a badly wounded arm.
Simon struck swiftly, knocking the sword from Henry’s hand.
Before he could secure the man and take him prisoner, however, Henry pulled a dagger from his boot and attacked again.
They wrestled across the clearing that had been chosen as the battlefield.
Henry scored Simon with the dagger several times, but Simon realized he had more strength than Henry.
Pushing aside all doubt of his ability to beat the man who had terrorized him for so long, Simon soon had the man pinned beneath him.
Tormand moved in quickly to help Simon tie his brother’s hands behind his back.
As Simon stood up, all too aware of his bruises and bleeding wounds, he looked down at Henry.
He felt no triumph, no sense of a job well done.
All he felt was weary and resigned. He had beaten Henry but that meant that he would be taking his own brother to the king for a hasty trial and a horrific execution.
He would have his own brother’s blood on his hands.
“I was pulled into this against my will!” cried Walter, dragging Simon from his dark thoughts, and he looked over at the trussed up Walter.
“He threatened my own mother! What choice did I have?” Walter did not seem to notice that Peter, who stood by him, was paying no attention to his pleas and excuses.
“ ‘Tis no wonder I have lost this battle,” Henry said, staring at Walter in a way that told Simon his brother was envisioning all the vicious ways he would like to kill the man. “I depended too much on a fool and a coward.”
“I cannae understand why ye even started it,” said Simon, grunting softly in pain when Wallace began to tend to his wounds. “Ye have no claim to the throne.”
Henry shrugged. “As much claim as the mon sitting on it now. I would ken how to rule this land. The king is too weak, too merciful. It takes a strong hand to rule a country and make it great.”
Staring into Henry’s face, Simon could see the madness clearly now. “Ye dinnae even think ye have a rightful claim, do ye. Ye just wanted to be king.”
“Aye. I have been the laird of a small holding for nigh on to fifteen years. It was time to better myself.”
“Is that why ye killed our father? Because ye felt it was time?”
“Aye. The fool had ruled long enough but he wouldnae name me his heir, wouldnae step aside. He was so strong, so cursed healthy, I would have been an old mon myself ere he died and the laird’s chair was empty.”
“What do ye mean, name ye his heir? Ye were always his heir.”
“Nay after the fool looked around and realized I was the only son left. He kenned it was me who had gotten rid of all of ye. It was then that he began to talk of making ye his heir. Weel, that wouldnae be right. I was the firstborn, after all. Since ye didnae have the decency to draw near enough for me to be rid of ye as I was rid of the others, the only other way to see that ye didnae get what was mine, was to be rid of the laird. When ye were eighteen, I thought I had finally rid myself of ye as weel, but ye lived.”
“Are ye saying that ye killed our brothers? Nay, ye cannae have for I am certain I have been hearing of them from time to time. I was told they had all been fostered out.”
“I dinnae ken how ye could have heard about them as I tied them up, put them in a wee boat that wouldnae stay afloat for verra long and set them adrift on a very big, very deep loch. E’en if they got themselves free of the ropes, they couldnae swim, could they.”
“They didnae have to,” said Tormand, his quiet, deep voice cutting through Simon’s shock. “They were picked up out of the water ere they drowned by a passing fishermon.”