Chapter 8: Danger Seen And Unseen
The next few minutes passed in a blur.
The man underneath the tree struggled a bit to stand up, and turned to look at them. Lydia still cowered behind the horse, Elizabeth knew not why. She herself remained firmly behind Darcy until he gently moved aside.
"Elizabeth, your father needs to see you," he whispered. "He can't recognise you if he can't see you."
And so she stepped forward. Elizabeth couldn't understand her own feelings. She was the one who had recognised the…her father as someone she had known. And now that she was close up to him, there was a tug of familiarity. Still, she had felt safe standing behind Darcy, and that was the position she wanted to resume. Her head was beginning to spin by all the new and old information that she had been forced to face in the last two days.
"Lizzy! It is you! Your voice was so familiar, but these old eyes aren't what they used to be, and I was half asleep when speaking to you there. Oh, my dear girl, what a beauty you have grown into!"
At this Elizabeth was enveloped in a hug like no other, as her father was wearing armour. Afterwards, he greeted Lydia in much the same manner; Darcy seemed to have coaxed her out from behind the horse.
Lydia then behaved in the oddest manner. She crinkled her up in an animal way, much like a dog. She sniffed around her father, up and down.
"Lydia, child, what is it that you are doing?"
Darcy was next to Lydia in a trice. He put his hands under Lydia, effectively controlling her movement. "You must be tired after our long journey. You must sit, have some water, and rest." With that, Darcy moved Lydia away from Sir Bennet and sat her down on the ground. Elizabeth saw Lydia whisper to Darcy, but she had no idea what her sister said.
Something was not sitting right with Elizabeth, but she couldn't put her finger on it.
Sir Bennet reached forward, his armour complaining, and removed a loaf from a sack in the grass before him. "This is fresh baked, given to me passing a mill not an hour ago. Come, my children, sit beside me and share it."
Elizabeth lowered herself down onto the gnarled roots of the oak. She felt immediately grateful for the mossy bark behind her, and when the bread was passed, it was soft and fresh.
But Darcy did not sit down. He wandered away to his horse, and led the horse forward until the reins rested on the ground next to Lydia.
"Now, my children. You must tell me what brings you here."
"You are not Mother," Lydia said.
"Oh, Lydia, dearest," Elizabeth replied, her sister's strange ramblings by the fireside coming rushing back. "Mother died when we were children. This is Father."
"Is she alright?" Sir Bennet inquired.
"You are not Mother," Lydia repeated. "But you saw her. You have seen Mother!"
Elizabeth bit her lip, wondering if Lydia was actually going to be struck down with a fever.
Sir Bennet smiled as you would to a very small child. "Well, of course, I have seen your mother, but that would be a long time ago now."
"Miss Lydia," Darcy said, "there are two horses here. Why not you take your bread with you, and feed them an apple each? They will likely prefer to stand in the tall grass over there, hmmm?"
Lydia looked at Darcy blankly, until he restated his suggestion to her twice, putting the reins in her hand. Finally, nodding in a daze, Lydia walked the horse away, muttering to the creature.
"Sir, you must forgive my not greeting you sooner," Sir Bennet addressed Darcy, suspicion and curiosity lacing his features. "But it has been so long since I have seen my daughters, and I was awe-struck. I hope you weren't offended. Perhaps I should inquire from you what has brought you here."
"Perhaps you should," Darcy replied nonchalantly. A little too nonchalantly, Elizabeth thought. "But it is your daughter's story to tell, not mine."
Haltingly, Elizabeth told her father all that had happened in the last several days. She made no mention of Wickham, her Visions, or the fact that she had known Darcy somewhere, somehow.
As she spoke, Elizabeth began to remember more of this man who was her father. She saw snatches of memories in her mind, of riding a cart with him as a little girl, being placed atop a horse, and playing with a stick in a place with a lot of green and sunlight, quite unlike their village. She suddenly remembered Darcy asking her back in the village if she had always lived there, and perhaps she had lived west in a time past. She glanced at Darcy, but his face was blank.
Sir Bennet nodded at the end of the story. "Indeed, the monastery will be the best place for our Lydia. She will be safe and protected there."
"We were told, Sir, that you were serving the monk Jonus, not wandering about the country in this state," Darcy commented.
"My daughter has spoken, Saxon, but tell me now what sort you are that I in turn have no cause to fear you."
"The name is Darcy, sir, from the fenlands in the east, travelling these parts on my King's errand."
"Ah. Far from home indeed."
Elizabeth then looked to Darcy, suspicion forming in her mind. How had he known that this man was her father? Darcy had not seen him any better than her, and how, how could he have known that a man he had never met was her father?
"Far from home, and these roads are strange to me," Darcy continued, and Elizabeth guessed that somehow beneath his genial demeanour, Darcy was not viewing her father as a friend. "All the more fortunate then to chance upon you, sir, brave knight of Arthur, from those western lands, well known to ride in these parts."
"Right enough, knight of the great Arthur who once ruled these lands with such wisdom and justice. I was settled many years in the west, but these days Horace and I travel where we may."
Darcy nodded. "If my hours were my own, I'd ride west this very day and breathe the air of that country. But I'm obliged to complete my errand and hurry back with news of it. Yet it's an honour indeed to meet a knight of the great Arthur. Saxon though I am, his name is one I hold in esteem."
Unable to repress herself any longer, Elizabeth turned to Darcy accusingly. "How did you know that this was my father? He's supposed to be at the monastery, caring for the monk Jonus."
"Yes, the very same thing I commented on moments ago," Darcy said noncommittally. "How is it that we chance upon you here, sir?"
"That's not the point!" Elizabeth almost shouted. "How did you know that this was my father?"
"Lizzy, dear, you must not shout at one who has brought you to me, no matter accidentally. But sir, perhaps you can ease my daughter's mind by answering her query."
"That is a simple thing," Darcy said. "Your exploits as a knight of Arthur are well known even in the fenlands; and on my journey here, we heard talk of a Bennet, caring for the monks. Who else could it have been, for no ordinary countryman would have been granted such a privilege at the monastery. Of course, no one at the village remembered you as a knight, so I had some doubts. But then we chanced upon you here; in armour from a time long past, unknown and unmentioned by the soldiers at the bridge. Who else could you have been? And, perhaps you cannot see without the aid of a reflection, but you both share the same face cut. And the same eyes. I have never met anyone with those eyes."
Darcy spoke well, but Elizabeth felt that he was not speaking quite truthfully. Or maybe he was, but was keeping some other truth to himself. So caught up in Darcy was she that Elizabeth failed to notice that her father had never answered Darcy's repeated question about what he was doing in this state.
"Since we're now finally speaking frankly, perhaps I may ask something more of you," Elizabeth asked boldly. "You say you're in this country on your king's errand. But why so anxious to adopt your disguise travelling through a country long settled in peace? I think I deserve to know the full nature of our companion, and who his friends and enemies might be."
Darcy looked at her with an odd smile. "Well, I would hope I am amongst friends, but perhaps that is wishful thinking on my part. Here I am a Saxon crossing lands ruled by Britons, and in these parts by the Lord Brennus, whose guards roam boldly to gather their taxes of corn and livestock. I wish no quarrel of the sort may come from a misunderstanding. Hence my disguise, and we'll all of us move more safely for it."
"Yet I saw on the bridge Lord Brennus's guards seemed not to be passing their time idly, but stationed there for a purpose, and if not for the fog clouding their minds, they might have tested you more closely. Can it be, you're some enemy to Lord Brennus?"
For a moment Darcy appeared lost in thought, following with his eyes one of the gnarled roots stretching from the oak's trunk and past where he stood, before burrowing itself into the earth. "Very well, Miss Elizabeth," he said, "I'll speak fully. We've heard rumours in the east of our fellow Saxons across this land ill used by Britons. My King, worrying for his kin, sent me on this mission to observe the real state of affairs."
"I understand well your position, sir," said Sir Bennet, speaking after a long period of silence. "Horace and I have found ourselves on Saxon-governed land and feel the same need for caution. Then I wish to be rid of this armour and taken for a humble farmer. But if we left this metal somewhere, how would we ever find it again? And even though it's been some years since Arthur fell, isn't it our duty still to wear his crest with pride for all to see? So we go on boldly and when men see I'm a knight of Arthur, I'm happy to report they look on us gently."
"It's no surprise you're welcomed in these parts, Sir Bennet," Darcy said. "But can it really be the same in those countries where Arthur was once such a dreaded enemy?"
"Horace and I find our king's name well received everywhere, sir, even in those countries you mention. For Arthur was one so generous to those he defeated they soon grew to love him as their own."
For some time - in fact, ever since Arthur's name had first been mentioned - a nagging, uneasy feeling had been troubling Elizabeth. Now at last, as she listened to Darcy and her father talk, a fragment of memory came to her. It was not much, but she remembered standing inside a tent, a large one of the sort an army will erect near a battlefield. It was night, and there was a heavy candle flickering, and the wind outside making the tent's walls suck and billow. There were others in the tent with her. Several others, perhaps, but she could not remember their faces. She recalled the smell of blood. She had been angry about something, but had understood the importance of hiding her anger at least for the time being.
"Our beloved Arthur brought lasting peace here between Briton and Saxon," Sir Bennet said, "and though we still hear of wars in distant places, here we've long been friends and kin."
"All I've seen agree with your words," Darcy said, "and I'm eager to carry back a happy report, though I've yet to see the lands beyond these hills. Sir Bennet, I don't know if ever again I'll be free to ask this of one so wise, so let me do so now. By what strange skill did your great king heal the scars of war in these lands that a traveller can see barely a mark or shadow left of them today?"
"The question does you credit. My reply is that the great Arthur was a ruler never thought himself greater than God, and always prayed for guidance. So it was that the conquered, no less than those who fought at his side, saw his fairness and wished him as their king."
"Even so, sir, isn't it a strange thing when a man calls another brother who only yesterday slaughtered his children? And yet this is the very thing Arthur appears to have accomplished."
"You touch the heart of it just there, Master Darcy. Slaughter children, you say. And yet Arthur charged us at all times to spare the innocents caught in the clatter of war. More, sir, he commanded us to rescue and give sanctuary when we could to all women, children and elderly, be they Briton or Saxon. On such actions were bonds of trust built, even as battles raged."
"What you say rings true, and yet it still seems to me a curious wonder," Darcy replied. "Do you not feel it a remarkable thing, how Arthur has united this country?" He now turned to Elizabeth. "What do you think, Miss Elizabeth. You must have memory of those times of bloodshed and death."
Elizabeth, shocked at being so addressed by Darcy, started.
However, without waiting for an answer, Darcy suddenly got up and moved away from her. At the same time, Lydia, who had drifted back to the road, was now shouting, and then came the beating of rapidly approaching hooves.
Later when she thought back, it occurred to Elizabeth that Darcy must indeed have become preoccupied with their curious conversation, for the usually alert warrior would have noticed the danger sooner.
However, when the rider turned into the clearing, Darcy was well on his feet.
The rider then slowed the horse with admirable control, and came trotting towards the great oak. Elizabeth recognised immediately the tall, grey-haired soldier who had spoken to them at the bridge.
The man wore a faint smile, but was approaching them with his sword drawn, though pointed downwards, the hilt resting on the edge of the saddle. He came to a halt where just a few more of the animal's strides would have brought him to the tree. "Good day, Sir Bennet," he said, bowing his head a little.
Sir Bennett gazed up contemptuously from where he sat. "What do you mean by this, sir, arriving here sword unsheathed?"
"Forgive me, Sir. I wish only to question these companions of yours." He looked down at Darcy, who had again let his jaw drop slackly, and was giggling to himself. Without taking his eyes off Darcy, the soldier shouted "Girl, move that horse no closer!" For indeed, behind him, Lydia had been approaching with Darcy's horse.
The tension was palpable, and Elizabeth felt fear rise in her throat. She looked to her father, but he just remained seated on the ground.
"Hear me, girl! Let go the rein and come stand here before me beside your idiot brother. I'm waiting, girl!"
Lydia looked to Elizabeth, who nodded. Better abide and cause no trouble. Lydia left the horse and came to join Darcy. As she did so, the soldier adjusted slightly the position of his horse. Elizabeth, noticing this, understood immediately that the soldier was maintaining a particular angle and distance between himself and his charges that would give him the greatest advantage in the event of sudden conflict.
The small adjusting of the horse had made it practically suicidal for an unarmed man, as Darcy was, to storm the rider. The soldier's new position seemed also to have taken expert account of Darcy's horse, loose some distance behind the soldier's back. Darcy was now unable to run for his horse without making a wide curve to avoid the sword side of the rider, making it certain he would be killed before reaching his destination.
Elizabeth noted all this with increasing dread, and could not understand why her father remained seated on the ground, being of no use to anyone. Sir Bennet maintained his position, apparently stuck to the foot of the oak.
Unable to bear it any longer, Elizabeth said, "You should stand."
He looked at her in silence, and struggled to his feet. When finally he straightened to his full height in his armour and pulled back his shoulders, he was an impressive sight. But Sir Bennet seemed content to stare moodily at the soldier, and so Elizabeth tried to take control of the situation.
"Why do you come upon us like this, sir, and we are but simple wayfarers? Do you not remember how you quizzed us an hour or so ago, by the waterfall?"
"I recall you well," the grey-haired soldier said. "Though when we last met a strange spell had fallen on us guarding the bridge that we forgot our very purpose being there. Only now, my post relieved and riding to our camp, it all suddenly returns to me. Then I thought of you, Miss, and your party slipping past, and turned my horse to hurry after you. Hey! Don't wander, I say! Remain beside your idiot brother!"
Lydia sulkily returned to Darcy's side and looked inquiringly at him. The latter was still giggling quietly, a line of saliva spilling from one corner of his mouth. His eyes were roaming wildly, but Elizabeth guessed that Darcy was in fact taking careful measure of the distance to his own horse, and the proximity of his opponent, and in all probability coming to the same conclusions as Elizabeth.
Then, the grey-haired soldier dismounted. When finally he stood to face Darcy and Lydia, he was once more at exactly the correct distance and angle to them; his sword, moreover, was carried so as not to exhaust his arm, while his horse shielded him from any unexpected assault from the rear.
"I'll tell you what slipped our mind when we last met, Miss. We'd just received word of a Saxon warrior left a nearby village bringing with him a wounded girl." The soldier nodded at Lydia. "Now, Miss, I don't know what you have to do with this matter. I seek only this Saxon and the girl. Speak honestly and no harm will visit you."
"There's no warrior here, sir. And we've no quarrel with you, nor with Lord Brennus who I suppose to be your master." She looked to her father for assistance, but he remained resolutely silent.
"Do you know what you speak of? Lend a mask to our enemies and you'll answer to us, whatever your gentility. Who are these you travel with, this mute and this girl?"
"As I said before, sir, they were given to my sister by debtors, in place of blankets and a bushel of hay. They'll work a year to pay their family's debt."
"Sure you're not mistaken, Miss?"
"I know not whom you seek, sir, but it wouldn't be these poor Saxons. And while you spend your time with us, your enemies move freely elsewhere."
The soldier gave this consideration. "Sir Bennet," he asked. "What do you know of these people?"
"They chanced on us as Horace and I rested here. I believe them to be simple creatures."
The soldier once more scrutinised Darcy's features. "A mute fool, is it?" He took two steps forward and raised the sword so the point was aimed at Darcy's throat. "But he surely fears death like the rest of us."
Darcy went on giggling, then smiled foolishly at Lydia beside him.
Finally, Sir Bennet spoke. "They may be strangers to me only an hour ago, sir," he said. "But I'll not see them treated with rudeness."
"This doesn't concern you, Sir Bennet. I would ask you to remain silent," the soldier replied.
"Do you dare speak to a knight of Arthur that way, sir?"
"Can it be possible," the soldier said, completely ignoring Sir Bennet, "this idiot here is a warrior disguised? With no weapon about him, it makes little difference. Mine's a blade sharp enough whichever he may be." The grey-haired soldier addressed Lydia. "Girl, step forward to me."
"She speaks only the Saxon tongue, sir, and a shy girl too," Elizabeth said desperately, knowing that Lydia would understand her every word.
"She needn't speak at all. I only need to see her arm and we'll know if she's the one left the village with the warrior. Girl, a step closer to me."
Lydia stayed rooted to the spot. The soldier reached out with his free hand. A short tussle ensued as Lydia tried to fight him off, but the sleeve was soon dragged up, and anyone with eyes could see a swollen patch of skin encircled by tiny dots of dried blood.
Sir Bennet now leaned forward to see better, but the soldier himself, reluctant to take his gaze off Darcy, did not glance at the wound for some time. When finally he did so, he was obliged to make a swift turn of his head, and at that very moment, Elizabeth heard a piercing piercing, high-pitched noise - not a scream exactly, but something that reminded her of a forlorn fox.
The soldier was for an instant distracted by it, and Lydia seized the chance to break from his grasp and ran into Elizabeth's arms. Only then did Elizabeth realise the noise was coming from Darcy; and that in response, his horse, until then languidly munching the ground, had suddenly turned and was charging straight for them.
The soldier's own horse had made a panicked motion behind him, causing him further confusion, and by the time he had recovered, Darcy had gone clear of the sword's reach.
The horse kept coming at daunting speed, and Darcy, feinting one way, then moving the other, produced another shrill call. The horse slowed to a canter, bringing herself between Darcy and his opponent, enabling Darcy, in an almost leisurely manner, to take up a position several strides from the oak. The horse turned again, moving smartly in pursuit of her master.
Elizabeth saw him reach towards the saddle just before the horse momentarily obscured Darcy from view. But then the horse cantered on riderless towards the spot where so recently she had been enjoying the grass.
Darcy had remained standing quite still, but now with a sword in his hand.
A small exclamation escaped Elizabeth.
Sir Bennet made a grunting noise, which Elizabeth did not understand. Her father had placed a foot up on one of the raised roots of the oak, and was watching with keen interest, a hand on his knee.
The grey-haired soldier's back was now turned to them; in this, of course, he had had little choice, for he had now to face Darcy.
Elizabeth was surprised to see that this soldier, so controlled and expert only a moment ago, had become quite disorientated. He raised his sword, the tip just above the level of his shoulder, gripping tightly with both hands. This posture, Elizabeth thought, was premature, and would only exhaust the arm muscles. Darcy, in contrast, looked calm, almost nonchalant, just as he had done when she had first glimpsed him setting off out of the village to rescue Lydia.
Darcy came slowly towards the soldier, stopping a few steps before him, sword held low in just one hand.
"Sir Bennet," the soldier said, a new note in his voice, "I hear you move at my back. Do you stand with me against this foe?"
"I stand here to protect these girls, sir. Otherwise, this dispute is not my concern, as you so lately reported. This warrior may be your foe, but he isn't yet mine."
"This fellow's a Saxon warrior, Sir Bennet, and here to do us mischief. Help me face him, for though I'm keen to do my duty, if this is the man we seek he's a fearful fellow by all accounts."
"What reason have I to take arms against a man simply for being a stranger? It's you, sir, came into this tranquil place with your rude manners."
There was silence for a while. Then the soldier said to Darcy, "Do you stay mute, sir? Or will you reveal yourself now we face one another!"
"I'm Fitzwilliam Darcy, sir, a warrior from the east visiting this country. It seems your Lord Brennus would have me hurt, though for what reason I know not since I travel in peace on an errand for my King. And it's my belief you mean to harm that innocent girl, and seeing this I must now frustrate you."
"Sir Bennet," the soldier cried, "will you come to the aid of a fellow Briton, I ask you once again. If this is Darcy, it's said more than fifty Norsemen have fallen by his hand alone. And that girl he seeks to protect is infected by an ogre, and will poison us all unless her life is ended."
Sir Bennet harrumphed. "If fifty fierce Vikings fell to him, what difference can one old and weary knight make to the outcome now, sir?"
"I beg you, do not jest, Sir Bennet. This is a wild fellow, and he'll strike at any moment. I see it in his eye. He's here to do us all mischief, I tell you."
"Name the mischief I bring," Darcy said, "travelling peacefully through your country, a single sword in my pack to defend against wild creatures and bandits. If you can name my crime, do so now, for I'd hear the charge before I strike you."
"I'm ignorant of the nature of your mischief, sir, but have faith enough in Lord Brennus' desire to be free of you."
"No charge to name, then, yet you hurry here to slay me."
"Sir Bennet, I beg you help me! Fierce as he is, the two of us with careful strategy might overcome him."
"Sir, let me remind you, I'm a knight of Arthur, no foot soldier of your Lord Brennus. I don't take up arms against strangers on rumour or for their foreign blood. And it seems to me you're unable to give good cause for taking against him."
"You force me to speak then, sir, though these are confidences to which a man of my humble rank has no right, even if Lord Brennus himself let me hear them. This man is come to this country on a mission to slay the dragon Querig. This is what brings him here!"
"Slay Querig?" Sir Bennet sounded genuinely dumbfounded.
Elizabeth recalled Darcy's fierce speech about the dragon before they had left the village. She stared in shock.
Sir Bennet strode forward from the tree and stared at Darcy as if seeing him for the first time. "Is this true, sir?"
"I've no wish to lie to a knight of Arthur, so let me declare it. Further to my duty reported earlier, I've been charged by my King to slay the she-dragon that roams this country. But what objection could there be to such a task? A fierce dragon bringing danger to all alike. Tell me, soldier, why is it such a mission makes me your enemy?"
"Slay Querig?! You really mean to slay Querig?!" Sir Bennet was now shouting. "But sir, this is a mission entrusted to me! Do you not know this? A mission entrusted to me by Arthur himself!"
"What?" Elizabeth heard herself cry out in surprise.
"A dispute for some other time, Sir Bennet," Darcy replied calmly. "Let me first attend to this soldier who would make an enemy of me and this girl when we would go by in peace."
"This girl will ravage entire villages if not killed! Sir Bennet, if you'll not come to my aid, I fear this is my final hour! I implore you, sir, remember the affection Lord Brennus has for Arthur and his memory and take arms against this Saxon!"
"It is my duty to slay Querig, Master Darcy! Horace and I have laid careful plans to lure her out and we seek no assistance!"
"Lay down your sword, sir," Darcy said to the soldier, "and I may spare you yet. Otherwise your life ends on this ground."
The soldier hesitated, but then said, "I see now I was foolish to suppose myself strong enough to take you alone, sir. I may be punished yet for my vanity. But I won't now lay down my sword like a coward."
Sir Bennet was entirely unable to focus on what has happening. "By what right," he cried, "does your king order you to come from another country and usurp the duties given to a knight of Arthur?"
"Forgive me, Sir Bennet, but it's many a year you've had to slay Querig, and young maidens have become grown women in the time. If I can do this country a service and rid it of this scourge, why be angry?"
"Why be angry, sir? You know not what you're about! You think it an easy matter to slay Querig? She's as wise as she's fierce! You'll only anger her with your foolishness, and this whole country will need suffer her wrath, where we've hardly heard a thing of her these past several years. It requires the most delicate handling, sir, or a calamity will befall the innocent right across this country! Why do you suppose Horace and I have so bided our time? One misstep will have grave consequences, sir!"
"Then help me, Sir Bennet," the soldier shouted, now making no effort to hide his fear. "Let's together put out this menace!"
Sir Bennet looked at the soldier with a puzzled air, as if he had forgotten for the moment who he was. Then he said in a calmer voice, "I'll not aid you, sir. I'm no friend of your master, for I fear his dark motives. I fear too the harm you intend to the girl here, who you have stated should be killed."
"Fight now, soldier," Darcy said, his tone almost conciliatory. "Fight and be done with it."
"Darcy, will it do harm," Elizabeth said suddenly, "to let this soldier surrender his sword and ride away? He spoke kindly to me before on the bridge and he's perhaps not a bad man."
"If I do as you ask, Miss Elizabeth, he'll take news back of us and surely return before long with thirty or more soldiers. There'll be little mercy shown then. And mark you, he means sinister harm to Lydia. The only one of us left standing alive would be yourself, and perhaps Sir Bennet."
Elizabeth pressed on, trying to broker a peace. "Perhaps he would willingly swear an oath not to betray us or kill Lydia."
"Your kindness touches me, Miss," the grey-haired soldier intervened, never taking his eyes off Darcy. "But I'm no scoundrel and won't take rude advantage of it. What the Saxon says is true. Spare me and I'll do just as he says, for duty allows me no other course. Yet I thank you for your gentle words, and if these are to be my last moments, then I'll leave this world a little more peacefully for them."
"Perhaps you will share with us your name," Darcy said. "You are a brave and noble soldier, and I have a duty to give you an honourable burial."
The soldier spoke after a short pause. "Steffa Ivor."
Elizabeth could hear the grey-haired soldier's breathing, more audible now because the man was releasing a low growl with each breath. When he charged forward he did so with his sword high above his head in what seemed an unsophisticated, even suicidal attack; but just before he reached Darcy, he abruptly altered his trajectory, and feinted to his left, his sword lowered to his hip. The grey-haired soldier, Elizabeth understood with a twinge of pity, knowing he stood little chance should the combat mature, had wagered everything on this one desperate ploy. But Darcy had anticipated it, or perhaps it was that his instincts were enough. The Saxon side-stepped neatly, and drew his own sword across the oncoming man in a single simple movement. The soldier let out a swooshing sound; he then fell forward onto the ground.
Elizabeth started muttering a prayer, and she realised that Darcy was doing the same.
A/N:I just want to say, some chapters like this one, contains very little of my own handiwork, and much from the original story. I have changed the plot here and there to serve my own nefarious purposes, but all the great stuff is from Kazuo Ishiguro's original.