Gazing at him from beneath her lashes, curls falling around her face, Hero's fingers hook in John's sleeve. "Will you walk with me in the garden?
John, who would follow her anywhere, is all too eager to escape the prying eyes of the breakfast room and steal a moment alone with her. (There is too much intrigue around the wronged maid and the bastard in love).
They stroll through the hedgerows along the winding path, Hero's hand nestled in his arm, while Ursula chaperones from a respectful distance, out of earshot. The birds fill the bushes with their morning song, butterflies and bees flitting past them. Somewhere a dog barks.
"You duel Claudio today," Hero murmurs.
"I do." He observes the anxious twist to her mouth. "Does this worry you?"
She turns her wide doe eyes upon him. "Of course it does."
He lifts her hand, bestowing a kiss to each finger. "You need not fear. I can handle Claudio."
"I feared for you even before I knew you and I shall not stop now that I do." She presses her own delicate kiss to his wrist. "You have my heart and all my confidence. But Claudio has defeated you before. You are sure you will be well?"
"That was before." He trails his knuckles down her cheek, admiring her blush. "Then, I was fighting for myself. Today, I fight for you."
Hero inhales, leaning into his touch. "There is something I would ask you…"
"Whatever it is, you have but to name it."
"Spare Claudio," she implores. "Do not kill him."
John jerks backwards, "You are not in earnest?" His eyes rove her face, alarmed to see that she is. "After what he did to you." Outrage scorches his chest. "That swine attacked you, bruised you, called you the worst of names — it cannot stand. It shall not stand. I will dispatch him and with his blood clear any stain upon you."
"As if one stain can clear another," Hero utters, rubbing her arm — an arm John knows to be fading into a mottled brown owing to Claudio's temper.
John's anger flares at this reminder. "He is a WORM and undeserving of your kindness."
Hero reaches for him, hands curling around his sleeve. "Do not mistake me. I would be glad to be free of Claudio and never think of him again. But if you kill him in my name, I fear I will have no peace." She draws back, fingers wrinkling her skirts. "I think he is the lowest of men… but he is someone's son, someone's nephew. There has already been so much loss in the recent conflicts. I do not desire another death."
John swallows, sore to hear Hero's mind against his own; how she condemns the recent conflicts, of which he was chief perpetrator. Although, she is not wrong. His men had been slaughtered — and for what? So many killed for his lost cause and while they rot in shallow graves, he is betrothed to Hero. Where is the justice in that?
John grits his teeth as guilt clashes with loathing, a tempest roiling inside him. "Why should I show him mercy? He showed none when he butchered my men."
"Oh John…" Hero's face falls with a sympathy as agonising as staring into the sun. "I understand, I do. But killing Claudio will not restore them."
John gazes at the ground, remembering a different field, blood staining the grass…
"Then I will avenge them."
I will avenge you.
Hero's hand presses on his shoulder, curls shifting as she shakes her head. "All it will be is another death in this cycle of violence. Jesus taught us to turn the other cheek. Revenge, it is not Christian."
John lurches from her, voice dripping with scorn. "Do not seek to sway me with talk of God or Christian kindness. Remember what I am."
Hero stills and John tenses, wondering if she will forsake him now he has shown his fangs, reminded her of the blot on his soul.
But Hero sighs, reaching for his hand and leaning into his arm. "Then do not do this for God. Do this for me. Please, John."
"I am doing this for you," his voice cracks and he clasps her hand, willing her to understand. "If I allow Claudio to live then he will be free to spread his slander."
"If he is disgraced, who will listen to him? No one of note or whose opinion I care for. Let him spread his lies, he will tarnish his own character worse than mine."
"The world does not share your goodness. You do not know—"
"No." Hero snatches her hand from him. "Not from you." She thrusts her finger into his sternum. "I will not hear it from you." Her expression splinters. "John… I know you want to protect me. Do you think I do not want to protect you as well? Think. What will they say when the former traitor slays their noble war hero? The soldier who overthrew him in battle, a man well-liked and celebrated? John, they already abhor you and resent your engagement to me. Do not give them further reason."
Her words cut clear and firm, burrowing like a knife in his chest. He stiffens. He has not thought of this. He cares so little for the opinion of sheep. But Hero is right. Claudio may have lost Pedro's favour, but he is still popular amongst the men. They would not hesitate to side with him over a traitor, a bastard.
If John kills Claudio, they will call for his head. Even Pedro's defence may not prove enough; there were those who whispered the Prince was too lenient with his treasonous half-brother. Those whispers could easily become shouts. Any victory will be viewed as cheating on John's part. They might even go as far as to accuse him of orchestrating the whole thing so he had an excuse to call Claudio out. They might accuse Hero of being his accomplice in the wicked scheme.
What's more, Claudio is the heir of a rich and powerful house. There would be repercussions. John could destroy his new life with Hero before it had begun. He would willingly burn to see Claudio fall, but he will not risk Hero.
With considerable effort, he unclenches his jaw, tasting iron. "I take your point."
Hero slides her hand over his fist, coaxing it to uncurl until she can entwine their fingers. "I believe in you, John. You will duel Claudio and defeat him — soundly and honourably."
John looks at her, letting her anchor his turbulent emotions. "He will not show me the same mercy."
Pain flickers across Hero's face and she squeezes his hand. "Do what you must. But only if you must."
He considers her. "You understand… if he lives, Claudio could hurt someone else."
Hero takes a trembling breath. "I know… I know… and I pray he never does… but I believe in second chances. I believe…" She touches his cheek, "I believe in redemption."
John exhales, leaning into her touch. He is quiet for several beats of his heart, loud in his ears, then he forces the impossible words from his throat. "I will do as you wish. I will… spare Claudio's life."
The words are tar on his tongue. The temptation to take them back is immense. But Hero combs back his hair, kissing his brow in benediction. "Thank you."
John exhales and envelopes her in his arms, savouring the feel of her against him. Despite his assurance to Hero, he knows Claudio is an excellent swordsman. He will be a difficult opponent, but John will not underestimate him again. He holds Hero for as long as he can before Ursula clears her throat from where she stands, admiring the roses.
Hero pulls back. "I have something for you." She unties the ribbon from her wrist, fastening it around John's own. "It is tradition for a lady to bestow a favour upon her knight before a bout."
The corners of his lips unfurl as he looks at the ribbon. "Thank you, my lady."
He lifts her hand, intending to kiss the strip of skin the ribbon always covered, but freezes when he spies the dark scrawl of a soulmark. Gently manoeuvring her wrist to inspect the mark, he is speared by 'unlovable'.
"It is not true." He looks up into Hero's beautiful face as she speaks, voice warm and full of tenderness. "You see, it curls right over my pulse. These veins lead straight to my heart. I was always going to love you, John."
His chest constricts. His thumb arcing over the dark letters, his eyes locked with hers. "You are more than I deserve."
Hero smiles, rising on her toes to kiss him. "You are exactly who I want."
:-x-:
Hero has witnessed duels before, at the tourneys her father sometimes hosted, men fighting for sport. But this duel is for honour. There is a chance one man will lose his life today. Hero prays not.
Her father has tried to keep the crowds from the garden, but men and women gather at the edges, leaning out of windows and doorways. Hero stands on the sidelines, wedged between her uncle and Beatrice.
Next to them, Benedick explains the code duello. He gestures to the seconds, whose purpose is to attempt a reconciliation between the opponents (as if that were possible). John has chosen Conrade as his second, while Claudio has selected a man whose name Hero does not know. From the grief that flickers across Benedick's features, Hero deduces that Claudio asked him first and was refused.
"Thank you, Signior Benedick," she says as he finishes his explanation. "For standing with us."
He looks at her, eyes gleaming, and offers a crooked smile. "It is my honour, lady."
Next to him, Beatrice shifts. They are standing closer than is proper, their arms pressed together, and Hero would bet her fortune they are holding hands. She meets her cousin's gaze and grins. Beatrice colours and fixes her focus ahead. Mirth and affection pool inside Hero like warm honey. When this is over and John is safe, she will be sure to tease and congratulate her cousin in equal measure.
Out on the lawn, the seconds depart, bereaving Hero of all happy feelings as John and Claudio take their positions. She clutches Beatrice's hand, pressing the other to her breast. Antonio wraps his arm around her shoulders. Across from them, a grave-faced Don Pedro surveys the opponents — his brother versus his former companion. With rigid shoulders, he calls out and the duel begins.
Both swordsmen are quick, meeting in a clash of silver. Hero tracks the blades, relying on Benedick's commentary to understand who has the advantage. This is her first time seeing either man duel. Claudio's skill has been much commended, while she has heard little of John. Both appear evenly matched, but as the duel continues, Hero begins to distinguish the differences in style.
Claudio takes the offensive, putting the most power behind his blows, forcing his opponent back. In comparison, John goes on the defensive, more calculating in his strikes. Hero thinks of the intellect it took to plot a revolt and hopes John has a plan (she does not think of his defeat at Claudio's hands). If his life were not at stake, she might better appreciate the grace of John's movements, the power in his figure, lithe and agile. He is magnificent and her pulse quickens from more than fear.
Several times, her breath catches as John narrowly fends off Claudio's vicious assault. Her heart pounds in her throat, gripping Beatrice's hand (if her cousin winces, she covers it well).
"He is losing focus," Benedick observes.
Hero whips to him then back to the match, afraid to lose a second. "WHAT? WHO?"
"Claudio… Don John means to tire him. He is goading him into making a mistake."
Sure enough, Claudio's movements grow more agitated, his strikes furious and less precise. Shouts arise from the onlookers, a cacophony of both men's names, unclear who is favourite amongst them.
"COME ON, LAD!" Antonio bellows. "WHIP HIM DOWN!"
Hero murmurs a prayer.
Like the strike of a snake, John's blade slices through Claudio's sleeve, scarlet seeping from the wound. Enraged, Claudio snarls and unleashes a volley of attacks upon his opponent. But now he is unbalanced and John takes the offensive, pressing his advantage.
Hero watches the exchange of blows, so mesmerised by their back-and-forth, that when the end comes, she almost misses it.
There's a clang and Claudio's sword flies from his hand, in the same disarming motion John sweeps his legs from under him, causing Claudio to topple flat on his back. John does not allow him to rise, pinning his injured arm under his boot
He levels his sword at his throat. "Yield."
John's voice rings through the courtyard, a hush having fallen as everyone strains to hear their exchange. Claudio thrashes, face contorting in fury as he spits something unheard. Hero can guess what, a burning across her skin.
"Yield," John says again, voice low and forbidding.
He applies pressure to Claudio's injured arm, the fallen man howling with pain and rage. Hero sucks in a breath, nausea coursing through her. Will she have to watch John kill a man?
He leans down, muttering something to Claudio, who stiffens, scowling at John as if he could incinerate him with glare alone. There is a long pause in which Hero's heart buffers against her chest, then Claudio sags. She hears his petulant reply, "I yield."
The garden erupts; Hero cannot tell if they are cheers of triumphant or cries of outrage. She does not care, hurtling across the lawn towards John as he steps away from Claudio.
"JOHN! JOHN! JOHN!" She leaps upon him, chanting his beautiful name.
He chuckles, worn and relieved, burying his face in her curls. "Hero."
His breath is warm, tickling the nape of her neck. She cradles his head, crushing her mouth to his. Fear and desire eddies in her stomach, humming through her blood and into her lips as she kisses him. Her clever, reckless love. Her knight and knave. John. John. John. Her wild heart.
"Hero… Hero!" Beatrice's voice shatters the moment.
Hero breaks from exaltation, parting from John, lungs pumping hard to work air back into her. She frowns at the interruption.
Beatrice's face is half amusement, half exasperation. "Don John has valiantly won a duel in your honour. Do not despoil yourself now before the eyes of all."
Hero opens her mouth to tell Beatrice to mind her own affairs, but John speaks first. "She is right."
His voice is little more than a husk, mixed with a touch of bashfulness to match the pink in his ears. His hands flex around her hips, where she has half climbed him, her ankles hugging his thighs. He lowers her back to the ground.
Hero pouts, clinging to John's shoulders, and glowering at Beatrice. "We are to be married soon."
Beatrice grins. "For the sake of my uncle's heart, let it be so."
Hero huffs, latching onto John's arms. He smiles at her bemused then turns to Beatrice, his features seeming to sharpen.
"I hope you don't mind, lady, I left you some sport."
Confused, Hero's head looks to him then back to Beatrice. Her cousin's eyes glint in the sun, her mouth widening to reveal her teeth. "Of course. We would not want it to be quick."
Hero does not like that at all, but her concerns are stolen as Antonio comes up behind them, clapping them both on the shoulders. "That was a fine duel, son. A fine show of swordsmanship."
Hero feels John tense under this praise, his face uncertain, and she squeezes his wrist.
"An honourable victory, my lord," Conrade commends, approaching them. "Only a fool would contend the result."
"A fine show, indeed," Benedick swaggers over. He holds out his hand to John. "Well done."
John regards the hand as if it were a viper.
"I am glad the better man won," Benedick adds, sounding sincere
John's eyebrows leap and he glances to Hero. She shrugs and, with reluctance, he accepts the proffered hand.
"Thank you." John says through his teeth, quick to let go of Benedick.
Beatrice steps forward, stealing Benedick's attention, if she had not always held it. "It is well that one man could rise to the challenge."
Benedick holds up his hands. "Our prince here had more right than I. But I did tax Claudio with foul words."
Beatrice tosses her curls. "Hmm, foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome."
"You frighten the word out of his right sense, so forcible is your wit," Benedick retorts and so, they go on.
Conrade casts a nervous glance between the pair, while Antonio chuckles. Hero meets John's gaze and he flicks her a knowing smile, rolling his eyes. She stifles a giggle. As they spar, Benedick and Beatrice draw nearer, seeming to forget the world around them, absorbed in the other. Their eyes are as heated as their words and Hero is tempted to make her own lecture on propriety.
On the other side of the garden, the wounded Claudio is hauled away by his comrades. Hero watches him go, content to know he will live on, dishonoured, and exorcises him from her mind. She notices Don Pedro staring in the same direction as her, sadness etched in his face. He glances to their little group with a look of confliction.
A gentle pressure on Hero's hand has her turning back to John. His brow knit with concern, a question in his dark gaze. She smiles, the truth of it fizzling through her, and she entwines her hand with his hand, letting him know everything is alright.