Chapter 38: Duel
"Someone has been asking questions about me," Gilbert said. "Questions about my motives. Since those questions didn't start until you came back from the border, that means you're the one who told them about my…outside interests." He seized Jubilee's thin wrist in a bruising grip. "Weren't you?" He looked at her, and the expression in his eyes was ugly. "Gallas and Julian may be dead, little former squire, but I still have plans. I want the throne, and I will have what I want."
Jubilee struggled to disengage herself, but he was too strong. "You'll never be the King," she spat angrily. "You're hurting me, stop it, let go of me," she gasped, but he held tighter.
"Gallas or Julian spoke my name when they were around you, didn't they," he hissed angrily. "And you told Sir Logan. He's been asking questions; fortunately no one else seems to believe that I'm the traitor. And it will stay that way, won't it?" he smiled at her grimly. "Listen to what I say, girl. If you don't stop it, tell everyone you were mistaken, I'll kill you, and your precious Sir Logan, too. Would you like that?"
"You won't kill Logan. You can't, he's too good with a sword." Jubilee stared at him with undisguised hatred in her eyes. "He'll kill you."
"I won't have to kill him." Gilbert turned and beckoned at a dark shadow. "My…partner, I guess you could call him…could take care of him easily." As he spoke, the other man stepped from shadows into the circle of light thrown from the open doors of the hall, and Jubilee saw who it was.
"You," she croaked. The dark, swarthy face, hulking shoulders and frame, and evil leer was enough for her. She knew that face; recognized that face. "You killed my parents!" Her voice rose, and she opened her mouth to scream for help.
Hughes whipped forward, so fast he was beside Jubilee in an instant. His hand clamped over her mouth, shutting off her scream of panic, and his arm came across her chest, pinning her arms to her side. She struggled, but her own feeble strength was no match for the much taller, stronger man. "Take her," he told Hughes.
Jubilee flailed wildly, but the tricks Logan had taught her for hand-to-hand combat were little help now. She was still too weak, and the long skirts of the dress restricted her movement. Her only option was to scream. She opened her mouth and clamped down as hard as she could on the man's finger, biting deep. The taste of blood filled her mouth, and she wanted to retch. Suppressing the urge furiously, she ground her teeth deeper into the finger.
Hughes howled and shoved her away from him forcefully, and she reeled back a few steps. With a muttered curse, he examined his bleeding finger, and then lifted a fist and punched her. She fell heavily to the paving stones, her head spinning, and cried out in pain.
Gilbert grabbed the shoulder of her dress and tried to haul her to her feet. She was still dazed from the blow, and reeled away from his grip, tearing the dress in the process. She stumbled toward the open door of the hall, only a few feet away, but was grabbed from behind by Gilbert. She opened her mouth before they could silence her again and screamed.
The couples closest to the door stopped and stared. The musicians stopped too; and in the silence her scream carried clearly into the ballroom. There was a ripple of disturbance in the room, and she saw Logan starting to make his way toward her. She screamed again, in panic and pain, and seconds later she felt her hand being grabbed in Logan's firm but gentle grip, and he pulled her out of Gilbert's grip and into his own. She clung to his side, snuggled in the crook of his arm, and he drew his dress sword and extended it toward Gilbert. "What were ya doin' ta Jubilee, traitor?" he growled at the man.
Gilbert spread his hands. "She wasn't feeling well, so I brought her out into the courtyard for a breath of fresh air," he said placatingly. "I tried to offer her my cloak against the chill, but she mistook my intentions, I believe. In her struggle to get away from me, she tore her dress." He came forward, holding his cloak (which had been dislodged in Jubilee's frantic efforts to free herself) and tried to drape it over her shoulders. She cringed away from him, turning her face in toward Logan's shoulder, and as she did he saw the bruise spreading across her temple. He touched it gently, and his fingers came away damp with blood. There was the impression of a heavy ring on her pale skin.
"You lie." Logan's voice was cold. Still keeping Jubilee snugged tight to his side, he extended the arm that held his sword. "She's hurt. Ya hurt her. Yer a liar."
"You accuse me of lying?" Gilbert drew himself up indignantly. "I don't lie! Take that back!"
"Make me." Logan stepped forward, sword held ready.
"Halt!" came a commanding voice. Richard stepped forward, raising a hand. Both Logan and Gilbert put their swords down immediately. "What's happened?" he saw Jubilee leaning on Logan, and said, rather more gently, "I think your Lady needs attention, Sir Logan."
Vincet broke through the crowd, minus Sylvie, and took Jubilee's hand. He drew her away from Logan, and looked at the wound on her temple as he sat her down on a stone bench along the wall, used to seat waiting guests. "She'll be all right," he said, removing his own cloak and draping it over her shoulders, covering the skin left exposed by the torn dress. "Just bruised. What happened, Jubilee?' he asked her.
"Gilbert," she whispered, rubbing her aching head. "He wanted me to take back what I said, tell everyone I was mistaken about being a traitor. Told me if I didn't he'd have his servant Hughes kill Logan."
"Hughes?" Vincet looked around. "I don't see anyone else here."
Gilbert broke in. "There was no one else here. The girl is lying."
"You callin' my Lady a liar?" Logan bristled, raising his sword angrily. "Take that back, or I'll make ya—"
"Stop," Richard said firmly. "We have heard both sides. Our Queen has also told Us a thing We can hardly credit; that Our cousin and friend Gilbert has plans to take over the throne. We are sure it cannot be true; is it?"
"No, Your Majesty, of course not!" Gilbert looked offended by the idea. He gave the King a low sweeping bow. "I am, as always, your loyal servant. Whosoever says otherwise is a liar, and I will face him on a field of combat and prove my loyalty. God will be on my side in such a duel, and my innocence will be proved."
"Then prepare to die," Logan growled. "Cause yer loyalty ain't worth a clipped copper."
"A duel?" Gilbert said coldly.
"A duel," Logan said.
"Agreed," Gilbert said coolly. "Out here, at sunrise."
Logan nodded.
At sunrise the next morning half the castle turned up on the knights' practice field. The Weaponsmaster had used rope and short stakes to mark out a square on the ground, and Logan and Gilbert stood in either corner, each practicing with their swords. Jubilee stood next to Vincet on Logan's side, watching Gilbert warily; but of the tall, dark man there had been no sign.
"Do you see him?" Logan asked her, stopping for a moment. "If ya see him, I won't hesitate ta call him out too, for hurtin' ya."
Jubilee scanned the spectators. "I don't," she said uncertainly. She couldn't help thinking that if Logan were to win this duel, both she and Logan would have to watching their backs against Gilbert and Hughes. If she saw him, and Logan had to fight him as well as Gilbert, he might not survive. So it was with a light heart that she decided he wasn't there and turned her attention to the Weaponsmaster, standing just outside the demarcated square and preparing to begin the combat.
Richard rose from his seat, and the crowd quieted. "Our cousin, Gilbert, and Our knight, Sir Logan, will duel here today," he said. "Sir Logan has accused Our cousin Gilbert of treachery, which is a serious offense; and Sir Gilbert accuses Logan's Lady of lying in her suspicions of his recent action. The question will be settled here. If Our cousin wins, Logan's Lady must apologize; if Logan wins, it will mean that God has decreed that Our cousin is guilty. If this happensWe will decide what is to happen. Begin." He sat down.
Logan stood in his side of the dueling circle; Gilbert stood at the other. The Weaponsmaster stood in the middle. "The duel will end at first blood," he said clearly, "The loser will be the first one to bleed. Commence." He stepped back, out of the circle.
Logan and Gilbert circled each other warily, looking for an opening. Once, twice, thrice around the circle…and then Gilbert lunged, a short, sharp movement toward Logan's right side. Logan brought his sword around to his right, and made ready to parry a blow.
However, Gilbert's sword was no longer there. He'd only feinted. As soon as Logan brought his sword to the right, Gilbert lunged to the left; and Logan was only narrowly saved from being spitted by ducking quickly off to the side. Gilbert's sword swung around to follow Logan, but the other man was moving too quickly for Gilbert to follow. He only just barely got his own sword over to the right to parry Logan's slash to Gilbert's left leg.
Logan ducked under Gilbert's arm and crossed around behind the other man. Gilbert's back presented a perfect target for a long moment, and Jubilee thought he might take advantage of it to score a hit and end the duel. But Logan made no move, and Jubilee cursed Logan's sense of honour. That honour would never let Logan stab another man in the back. He waited until Gilbert turned all the way around before making another move.
The sound of clashing swords silenced the spectators as Gilbert abandoned his short, sharp thrusts. He closed with Logan directly, forcing the other man to go on the defensive. Logan matched him, stroke for stroke, parrying each thrust, each cut, with his sword. He focused his concentration on not giving ground; if he stepped outside the circle, or if he dropped his guard for even a minute, Gilbert would take advantage of it and strike. Of them both, Logan was the more experienced, and younger and quicker; but Gilbert wasn't fighting completely with honour, and he was also taller and heavier than Logan. That gave him the advantage in a close fight.
He stayed on the balls of his feet, moving quickly enough that the other man couldn't pin him down. Out the corner of his eye he could see Jubilee's tense, worried, white face, and decided to stop prolonging her anxiety. The dark bruise on her temple caught his attention, and a fresh surge of anger welled up in his mind. She'd been through too much already; she didn't need to be abused here at home. He watched carefully for an opening, and when he saw Gilbert lower the point of his sword slightly so he could shift his grip on the hilt, Logan acted.
He darted in, under Gilbert's arm, and thrust outward in a quick, shallow jabbing motion. The point of his sword slid under Gilbert's arm and pricked him just under the ribs. He didn't thrust hard enough to incapacitate; just hard enough to draw blood.
And bleed Gilbert did. A satisfying crimson stain spread rapidly over the light-green tunic he'd worn. Logan dropped his sword immediately, and Gilbert stared in shock at the spreading red stain. Logan lowered his sword, stood straight, and saluted his opponent in the traditional way before turning to face the side of the dueling circle. Jubilee was standing there, her face alight with pride and happiness, and he dropped his sword on the grass as he started toward her.
He never saw it coming.
Gilbert, furious at his defeat, lunged for Logan, sword outthrust, and caught Logan in the back, on his left side just under his ribs. Logan gasped, his eyes going wide, and then the pain of the sword tip delving deep into his body made him stagger. He fell heavily to the ground, gasping for breath, and the impact caused stars to explode in his head.
The Weaponsmaster and Jubilee and Vincet stared. It was a violation of the rules; a dishonourable thing to do. Logan had drawn first blood; by duelists' rules, he had won, and Gilbert had lost. They hadn't agreed to make this a duel to the death…but that was apparently what was on Gilbert's mind as he stood over Logan's prone body with his sword raised, ignoring the angry shouts of the spectators and the King's loud demand. "Stop! Gilbert, stop!"
Time seemed to slow. Jubilee barely realized she was moving; all she could think about was keeping that sword from stabbing Logan again. She was focused on the two men, one standing over the other, and she never felt herself picking up the sword Logan had discarded and scrambling over the low ropes that delineated the dueling circle. She saw the sword coming down in a shining arc over Logan's helpless body…and acted without thinking.
The clash of Gilbert's sword against the sword she held jolted her out of her unthinking trance. The impact seemed to send vibrations up her arms, and it took all of her strength to hold the sword steady and not drop it. It had been almost two months since she'd last handled one; and while her mind remembered how she was supposed to swing it, wasted, atrophied muscles refused to respond to what she told them to do. And the long skirts hampered her movements.
Gilbert…roared. It was the only way anyone would have been able to describe the sound he made. Jubilee almost froze when she looked up into his face; it was such a mask of rage and thwarted desire that he looked almost insane. He raised his sword again, tried to bring it down. Again she parried, just in time, her arms trembling with the effort. Logan's sword was much heavier than hers, and her grip was made all the more precarious by the fact that the last two fingers of her one hand didn't work properly.
Gilbert saw her shift her grip on the sword, and he remembered. Julian had shot her hands, severing the muscles of two fingersand making that hand weak. If he could render that hand unusable… he lunged toward her, point first. She parried, and he took the chance to lock blades with her, hilt to hilt. She couldn't afford to take her other hand off the hilt to push him back by the wrist; he knew that. It was taking every ounce of strength in her body just to hold the sword steady.
He reached for her weak hand with his free hand, and gripped her wrist. He could feel the ridges of scars under his fingers, and the thought of how she had gotten them made him smile. Grinning evilly at he, he closed his fingers tighter around the thin wrist, grinding her wrist bones together. She cried out with the pain, but refused to let go of the sword. He exerted more pressure. She almost screamed. And then, in a move he hadn't anticipated, she leaned her head forward and sank her teeth into his hand.
He howled, let go of her hand, and she slid backward, taking the sword in her left hand and shaking her right. The imprint of his fingers was clear against her pale skin, and she looked like she was in pain. But she never took her eyes off him, trying to anticipate his next move.
He swung at her, and she danced backward. Another overhand swing; she ducked under it. A slash aimed at her middle…and she flipped backward on her hands, turning a back somersault out of reach of his blade.
The entire field of spectators froze. They had seen that move before; Logan's squire, Lee, did backward somersaults on a galloping horse sometimes just for fun while he had played. There was no way Jubilee could have done such a move…unless…
Jubilee and Lee were the same person.
Jubilee ignored them. She knew the field had suddenly gone silent; she didn't know why, and she really couldn't take the time to look around. Gilbert was pressing her hard, and she had to use every trick she knew to keep out of his reach, while not moving an inch. She had planted herself firmly between Logan and Gilbert, and was quite determined that the only way Gilbert would kill Logan was if he killed her. The wrist he'd grabbed throbbed, and she could barely move it; she silently thanked Logan for taking the time, after the arrow incident, to teach her how to fight with her other hand. His sword was unwieldy in her hands, and she knew her muscles would ache when this ended, but at the moment all she cared about was keeping Gilbert off Logan. "Stop it," she screamed. "Stop it, stop it! You've lost, traitor! Give yourself up to the King's justice!"
Gilbert ignored her furious cry, and swung again. This time, she was unable to parry in time, and the sword traced a line of fire across her collarbone, slicing through the thin material of her dress like a hot knife through soft butter. She cried out in pain as blood spurted from the cut, and stumbled. The sword fell from her hand, and she went to her knees beside Logan's still body.
Gilbert strode past her, glaring hotly, his sword hilt in both hands, prepared to plunge into Logan's body. With the last bit of strength Jubilee had, she flung herself the last few inches over to the sword she had dropped, brought it swinging around, and plunged it into Gilbert's body high in his chest. Gilbert gasped, a peculiar chest-rattling noise coming from his open mouth, and dropped his sword. Jubilee barely heard it fall, didn't even see it land. Completely exhausted, she bowed her head over Logan's still body, sobbing in anguish, and let darkness claim her.