Therefore, Jamison felt a good deal of disgust as he gazed down at the MacKenzie stronghold from his position on the crag. He could see the house and the farm for the most part, including the sod-walled barn his brother had disappeared into. The biggest and most intelligent of the four Munro brothers, Jamison was the second son but always found himself in a position of command and control within the family. His father depended on him and his brothers adored him. He was feared and respected by his peers as well as men from other clans, and he was careful with his reputation.
A man’s character is all he really has, his father once told him, and Jamison stuck to that belief, which is why he didn’t like playing the lookout when Robert engaged in his mischief. Jamison didn’t like being put in that position but if he didn’t look out for his brother, the man would surely get himself into trouble, or worse. Had it not been for Jamison on numerous occasions, Robert would have been dead.
Damn Robbie!
And then, he saw it….
Lured from his thoughts of his devilish brother, Jamison caught sight of movement in the distant complex. He suddenly saw a small, female body being tossed from one of the narrow barn windows – or, at least, that was what it looked like. The woman slipped right through and fell heavily to the earth below.
Puzzled, not to mention concerned, Jamison spurred his horse forward, down the rocky green slope, the one that faced the ocean and the glorious morning sunrise. The days of summer were still fairly warm as the season moved into fall and the harsh winter that would soon come, so the ground was stable and not too wet as his horse slid down the incline. He was nearly to the bottom, preparing to urge his horse forward at a gallop, when he heard a cry.
“Eva!”
Jamison knew his brother’s voice and that wasn’t it. Someone else was calling for that siren of a sister, a lass that lured men to their doom when they came into contact with her brother. So Jamison could only assume that the cry was from Eva’s brother. Sending the horse into a gallop, he closed the gap between him and the MacKenzie stronghold. He dismounted and left his horse in a copse of trees as he raced for the big stone wall that surrounded the perimeter. Leaping over the wall, which was no mean feat considering his height and bulk, he headed straight for the woman who’d been tossed from the window. She was just starting to sit up when Jamison came upon her.
“Eva?” he asked, reaching down to help her up. “What has happened?”
Eva had a hand on her forehead. “I dunna know,” she said, wincing as she rubbed the bump that was forming. “Robbie and I were… where’s Robbie?”
Jamison didn’t know but from the sounds of conversation on the other side of the barn, a mumble he could hear, he suspected his brother might not be in the best of positions. Eva was wobbly, having trouble standing, so he picked her up so she wouldn’t fall. With the woman in his arms, he rounded the side of the sod barn and walked straight into the scene of Connell chasing Robbie over a rock wall.
“Stop!” Jamison boomed. “Connell, stop!”
Connell came to an unsteady halt just as he was about to leap over a second rock wall. Robert kept running until a second shout from Jamison stopped him. Robert turned about but Connell was already heading in Jamison’s direction, his featured twisted with rage.
“Get yer hands off me sister!” he snarled, reaching out and grabbing Eva by the arm. He yanked, hard, and the woman hit the ground. He dragged her back, several feet, as she tried to get her footing, but his focus was on Jamison. “God’s bones… so ’tis ye… ’tis The Red Lion. I never thought it ’twould be ye, Jamison. Ye’re the smarter o’ the brothers.”
Jamison kept his customary cool as he faced off against a fairly angry man. “I will pretend I dinna hear yer slander,” he said steadily. “Yer sister has had an accident. I was riding by and saw her in the dirt. She’s injured.”
Connell turned his attention to his sister, who was struggling to stand. He still had her by the arm. “What is it wich’ ye?”
Eva had her had to her forehead where the lump was. “I… I hit me head,” she said, still muddled from having been knocked out. “I think Robbie must’ve hit….” She stopped herself, suddenly realizing what she had just said. Her eyes widened and she looked up at her brother in a panic. “I mean… I must’ve hit me head somehow!”
Connell wasn’t a fool; he’d caught her misstep from the first. He still had her by the arm and he shook her, viciously, until she cried out. “Robbie?” he snapped.
She screamed. “Nae! No’ Robbie!”
“Jamison, then!”
“Nae, Connell! Stop!”
But Connell wouldn’t stop. “Ye’ve been wit’ Robbie,” he said as his gaze found Robert, who was still at least two fences over. Far enough away to get a good distance on him if he decided to run. Connell’s features twisted with rage as he turned back to Jamison. “That is why ye’re here, Munro. Tae cover for yer brother’s actions with me sister!”
Jamison could see where this was going. God help him, he could see very quickly where the situation was headed and he did the only thing he could do – try to head off Connell the Crazed from the murderous rage that was about to come forth. Robert might have been a rake, and a foolish one at that, but Jamison wasn’t going to condemn his brother before the likes of Connell MacKenzie. He was going to defend him.
“From what I’ve heard, Robbie’s not the only man who’s had action with yer sister,” he said. He was going to hit and hit hard. “Take the lass back into the house and beat her within an inch o’ her life. She lures men to their doom like a siren lures sailors. Get her out of me sight, MacKenzie. Be grateful I’m not beating her instead of ye.”
Connell was taken back at the blatant insult. Even Eva yelped in outrage. “Are ye goin’ tae let him speak of me like that?” she asked, looking at her brother. “What are ye goin’ tae do about it, then?”
Connell’s jaw flexed but, surprisingly, he didn’t explode. He simply looked at Jamison with an expression that suggested he was torn; the man was, in fact, correct. Even Connell knew his sister had no morals. But, much as Jamison was obliged to protect Robert, he was obliged to protect Eva. The family honor was at stake.
“I’ll give ye yer choice,” Connell said to Jamison, all but ignoring his sister. “I can fight Robbie or I can fight ye. I’m goin’ tae fight one of ye, so ye can make the choice.”
It was a challenge and Jamison immediately looked at his brother. He wouldn’t refuse such an invitation. He had a sword strapped to his side, held by a leather belt against the rough woolen tunic he wore. Unlike most Scots, however, his tunic didn’t go to his knees. It hung just below his buttocks because Jamison preferred to wear breeches.
He’d picked up the habit while fostering in England, far to the south, and he’d never lost the urge to cover up his legs. He felt far more comfortable that way because he didn’t particularly like having his manhood exposed. One good tumble and the Family Sword would be unsheathed for all to see. Therefore, when he faced Connell with his Sassenach dress and enormous, Spanish-forged broadsword, he looked out of place.
A Highlander without the trappings of the Highlands.
Connell noticed; it wasn’t difficult to see. The clans all knew that Jamison Munro wasn’t like the rest of them. His father, also a rather widely traveled and educated man, had insisted his sons do the same, but the two younger sons, Robert and Hector, had resisted that wanderlust. They’d never done what the older boys, George and Jamison, had done. George had spent time in France studying with the church while Jamison had fostered with a very fine English family. He’d experienced warfare in four different countries, only to return to Scotland to realize he was different from his kinsmen. Not odd, just… different.
He didn’t fit in with them anymore.
Therefore, Connell was a more cautious when facing Jamison. The man knew Sassenach tactics, which made him tricky as well as dangerous. He was also as tall as a tree, as big as a stag, as powerful as a mount
ain, and as unpredictable as the wind. There was nothing wanting about Jamison Munro.
Truthfully, Connell was a bit disappointed that the man had stood right up to his challenge; not that he had expected any differently, but he had hoped – secretly – that Jamison would have thrust Robert at him to atone for what he’d done with, or to, Eva. It was a brother’s duty to protect his sister’s honor, wasn’t it?
By damn, if Jamison isna right – the lass is like a siren who’s had one too many a sailor gloss over her ocean, if ye know what I mean….
The reality was that Eva had no honor. Now, she may have very well cost Connell his life because of her open legs and his sense of duty.
Damnable woman!
“This isna yer fight, Jamison,” Connell said, trying not to sound as if he was afraid of the man. “Give Robbie yer sword and let him face me like a man.”
Jamison shook his head. “Ye gave me a choice of who ye should face,” he said. “I chose me.”
Connell sighed faintly, knowing that he had, indeed, given the man such a choice. It had been a hasty offer, one he was coming to regret. “Ye canna spend yer whole life defendin’ yer brother,” he said. “When will Robbie take the burden fer what he’s done?”
Jamison unsheathed his sword. “Not today,” he said. “Are ye going tae fight me or are ye going tae stand there and yap? I dunna have all day.”
By this time, Robert had come back over the rock walls, his feet slapping against the cold, damp earth of the barnyard. “Hold, Jamie,” he said. “Ye may as well give me yer sword. Connell intends tae kill one of us and it may as well be me.”
He said it with resignation but Jamison didn’t look at him. He didn’t take his eyes off of Connell.
“Get away with ye,” he told Robert. “Go home, Robbie. Ye brought me for protection. Now I’m protecting ye.”
Robert was feeling guilty and fearful. He hadn’t truly wanted to get Jamison involved with the maniacal Connell, but here they were, preparing to square off against one another. He didn’t know what he’d expected when he’d asked Jamison to act the lookout for him when he’d gone to meet with Eva; perhaps he had hoped that nothing would happen at all, that they’d all outrun Connell after he’d had his pleasure and before any real damage was done. Connell was fearsome but he was slow. Knocking Eva in the head and being confronted by Connell wasn’t really what Robert had hoped for, but now, here they were.
They were in the soup now, as it were.
“Give me yer sword,” Robert said again. “I canna let ye face me folly. I can beat Connell. Do ye doubt me?”
“Aye.”
He’d said it with no hesitation and Robert looked at his brother, stricken. “Do ye have so little faith in me skill, then?”
“Aye.”
The reply had been quick. Robert was insulted now. He scowled. “Yer words are like an arrow through me heart,” he hissed. “Just because men call ye The Red Lion, ye’re not the best swordsmen in all of Scotland, ye know. Or did ye think so?”
“Actually, I did.”
Robert’s mouth popped open in outrage. He looked at Connell. “Do ye hear him?” he demanded, pointing to Jamison. “He’ll kill ye just as easily as look at ye. Will ye let him take ye down so easily?”
Connell was listening to the banter, not entirely sure it wasn’t some ploy to distract him. “The Red Lion or no’, he’s not goin’ tae take me down,” he said, eyeing the brothers. “But… but I dunna want me sister tae see bloodshed. ’Tis not right.”
Jamison cocked his head curiously. “Scots women are stronger than we are when it comes tae a fight,” he said. “Yer sister has stolen from the wounded in the field. She’s cut off a swollen finger tae retrieve a valuable ring and ye know she’s done far worse than that. If ye dunna want tae fight me, Connell, then ye take back yer slander against Robbie.”
Connell eyed both Jamison and Robert, seeing a way out of this. He was actually feeling rather hopeful. “I’ll lower me sword if he lets me smell his breath.”
As Jamison looked to his brother, the scowl vanished from Robert’s face and his eyebrows lifted in surprise. He suspected why the man wanted to smell his breath – to see if he could smell a whiff of his sister on him. Robert had planted his face squarely betwixt Eva’s legs so there was probably little doubt that he had the smell of female flesh on him. He could smell it even now. Would he let Connell smell his lips? Absolutely not. It would be a dead giveaway. With that thought, he shook his head.
“I willna let ye,” he said. “I willna let ye close enough to slip a dirk between me ribs. Jamie, give me the damn sword so I can be done with this.”
Jamison moved away from his brother, fearful the man would try to make a grab for his weapon and then it would be the two of them battling each other. Holding out a hand to prevent his brother from following him, he lifted his weapon to Connell.
“Ye canna smell his breath,” he said. “Make yer move if ye must.”
Connell stared at him for a moment, a river of emotions running through his dark eyes. His hope for a peaceful solution to the situation was gone and there was nothing more he could do unless he wanted to look like a coward. Therefore, he unsheathed the dirk at his waistband, a very long and sharp dagger that was nearly as long as a sword itself.
The blade was long and triangular, sharp only on one side. The type of blade was native to the Highlands and the warriors who populated it, and this one was no different with its guardless hilt. The MacKenzie stag was carved into the hilt made out of a stag’s horn.
Jamison had seen the dirk before and it was an impressive one. Now, that razor-sharp tip would be aimed for his chest and his broadsword came up. He had the advantage provided that he didn’t let Connell get too close to him. The man could cut him badly with a weapon meant for close-quarters combat, but a broadsword such as the one Jamison held could cut a man’s head off easily. Therefore, this would be an interesting fight.
They began to square off in the barnyard, circling one another, each man waiting for the other to make the first move. Jamison could hear Eva panting with fear. He didn’t even know where Robert was. He couldn’t think about that now; all he could think about was the man he was preparing to fight. The battle wasn’t long in coming.
Connell charged at Jamison with his blade held high and Jamison deftly avoided the rush. But Connell was on him in an instant, bellowing and shouting, using the dirk in great slashing motions as Jamison deflected them. At this point, he was on the defensive more than anything, waiting for Connell to exhaust himself and then Jamison would put his blade to the man’s throat and give him the ultimatum of apologizing to Robert again to save his life.
He was fairly certain that Connell would apologize. He was rash but he wasn’t an idiot. And, Robert really was having his way with the man’s sister so Jamison was, perhaps, not as hard on the man as he could have been. Connell was only defending the vestiges of his sister’s honor, something that was long gone. Jamison supposed, in reality, that Connell was really just defending the family pride. So be it. Jamison could hold out until Connell came to his senses.
But those thoughts were cut short when Robert suddenly entered the fight, running at Connell from the side and tackling the man, sending them both to the ground. As Jamison watched in horror, Connell brought that dirk down onto Robert’s back, goring him. Robert’s screams filled the air and Jamison rushed the pair, broadsword lifted, bringing it down on Connell’s neck as the man stabbed Robert a second time. Connell’s head was separated neatly from his body before he could stab Robert a third time.
As swiftly as it began, the fight was over, leaving devastation in its wake. None of them had wanted this ending but, in a fit of panic on Jamison’s part, that was what it had come to. Eva began screaming at the sight of her brother’s decapitated body as Jamison reached down, trying to pull Robert to his feet.
“Robbie,” he gasped. “Can ye walk, man?”
Robert was pale and bleeding, blood gushin
g from the two wounds on his left side. He staggered to his feet as Jamison pulled at him.
“Ye shoulda let me fight him,” he said to his brother. “He was goin’ tae kill ye, Jamie. Do ye know I couldna live with meself if he did?”
Jamison glanced at Connell’s body, the detached head with the sightless eyes staring up into the sky. He swore he saw the mouth move as Eva stood over him and screamed.
“Come on,” he hissed at his brother. “We must leave. Now.”
Robert grunted, hand to his bloody back. “But Eva….”
“I dunna think she wants tae come with us, Robbie. Move.”
Jamison pulled his brother across the barnyard, outside of the rock walls to where his shaggy brown horse was feeding on the wet, green grass in the field beyond. His attention darted about as he looked to see what MacKenzie men the sister’s screaming was bringing forth.
“Ye have tae run, Robbie, or we’ll soon join Connell in a headless existence,” he said, anxiety in his tone. “Move faster.”
“I am!”
“Ye lazy bastard, I could crawl faster than ye’re movin’!”
They manage to reach the horse as men began pouring out of the MacKenzie stronghold, lured by Eva’s screaming. Men were shouting and horses were being gathered. Jamison knew their time was growing extremely limited so he grabbed his brother and literally tossed the man up onto the horse, which was now becoming jumpy and excited with all of the shouting and movement. Jamison vaulted onto the horse behind his bleeding brother and they took off, heading towards the sea and the road that would take them north to Foulis Castle.
Jamison had no idea what he was going to tell his father about the incident but he sincerely hoped he had the chance. He’d rather face his furious father than a herd of rabid MacKenzies with blades. He could hear shouting behind him and knew they were mounting a chase, but he kept focused and held fast to Robert, spurring his heavy-boned horse across the rocky path as they hurled towards the main road that turned for home. If nothing else, Jamison had long learned that cooler heads prevailed. Panic would get him killed and he’d seen many instances of that, so he kept the horse going hard and steady until they finally came to the road that would take them home.