“Where is the boy?”
Elias offered a fake pout as they reached each other. “I was hopin’ ye wouldna ask that.” He swung his sword high over his head then brought it down hard above Parrock. The commander blocked and then parried, driving Elias back on his feet.
“I have no quarrel with you.” He changed position and took a step back.
“The boy is my son,” Elias told him.
“No, he is the bishop’s son.”
“The bishop has no more right to him. He lost it all when I adopted the boy and discovered the bishop wanted him dead. Imagine how I will protect him now that he is mine. I will no longer sleep if I must. I will kill ye, and I will kill yer bishop.” He swung and swiped and slammed his sword down hard, again and again on Parrock’s arm. The commander might be experienced, but the wear on his arm was now showing.
One more colossal chop and Parrock’s sword fell.
Elias held his blade across the commander’s throat and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to kill this man. He’d seen enough needless death, including the villagers and their children dying of the pestilence. Enough!
He stepped away. Then leaped back when an arrow came flying and landed in Parrock’s throat.
What now?
Elias picked up Parrock and used him as a shield as he ran for cover around the side of Clare’s cottage.
He heard footsteps running and readied his sword. He was ready to swing when he saw his cousin. His cousin? What the hell was Tristan doing here?
“Eli! Are ye well?” Tristan grabbed him by the front of his plaid.
“What the hell are ye doin’ here, Tristan?”
“I’m after the bishop. I hadna planned on killin’ Parrock—and that bastard cousin of his hit me in the—”
“Cousin? D’ye mean Bertram Chisholm?”
“Aye,” Tristan answered, “yer friend, accordin’ to him.”
“He is no friend of mine,” Elias told him. Damn it to hell, the bastard was still alive. “Ye said ye had him, Cousin. Where? Where is Chisholm?”
“I dinna know,” Tristan told him, his expression going darker at the horror on Elias’ face while he spoke. “He smashed me over the head with a rock. What? What is it?”
Elias didn’t answer but ran for the church.
“Who is the woman he wants to kill?” his cousin asked, racing on foot to catch up.
“My wife,” Elias told him and sprinted forward. He reached the church door first. He ran inside and looked at the door at the bottom of the stairs. It was open. Bertram stood against the wall with Charlie under his arm and his knife at the lad’s throat. Elias was going to kill him.
Seeing him and his cousin, Bertram moved with Charlie along the wall. The lad saw him and made a move to fight his captor. Elias held him still with a subtle shake of his head. As long as that knife was against his throat, any kind of heroics could cost Charlie his life.
“Bertram, I will do whatever you want from this moment forward if you let the boy go unharmed,” Lily told him. “If not, I will set his father free upon you to rip you to pieces and beat you to death. He is barely restrained right now.” She pointed to Elias.
What was she doing? Did she think he, her beloved husband, would use her as a pawn?
“Swear it to me before God,” Bertram demanded, knowing her. Knowing, as Elias did, that she would not go back on such a vow.
But Elias also knew, thanks to Simon’s constant teaching while he hovered about him, much about God’s laws. Since Elias was her husband, he could reject her vow and God would forgive her.
He rejected it.
He waited for her to agree to Bertram’s demand. When she did, Bertram set Charlie free, pushing him toward her. Elias kept one eye on Bertram and one on his son arriving safely into the arms of his wife.
One of her hands slipped under her skirts. When it came back out, it held the blade of a knife.