To Be a Spy

Chapter 17

A grim faced man cleared his throat. "I dona wanna seem rude, me lady, but I disagree. We have been told since the day we arrived that we shall fight not only to liberate our lady but also to strike back against the arrogance of England."

"But you will be killed!"

The man let out a short laugh. "Me lady, those scrawny white-faced English cowards will fall under me sword!"

"You underestimate England."

"And you, me lady, underestimate me."

She met his gaze. "What if I prove it to you?"

"And how would you be doing that, me lady?"

"I have been raised in England all me life. Through those years, I have been taught a bit of swordplay. If I, a woman, can beat you, then you will admit England has better fighters, agreed?"

"Meaning no disrespect, me lady, but I wouldna wanna hurt you."

Rowen smiled. "I dona think that be a problem. What be your name?"

"Murtagh, me lady."

"Well, Murtagh, I challenge you to a sword-fight." His face turned red. To refuse a challenge would be viewed as a dishonor and it was a woman doing the challenging!

"You leave me no choice, me lady."

Food forgotten, all filed out to see what would happen. From countless hours of sparring a circle had been made by wearing the grass into a bare patch of dirt. Rowen drew Donngal's sword and swung it a few times to familiarize herself with the blade. Murtagh unsheathed his own weapon and stepping into the sphere. Rowen did the same. For a moment, they eyed each other, sizing up the other's strengths and weakness. Then, with a fake to one side, Rowen's sword snaked through the air. With a surprising show of agility, the Irishman whipped his sword around blocked it. Using all his strength, he swung his blade so that it connected with Rowen's with a loud clash. The shock vibrated down the metal into her hand, but her grip tightened instead of loosening around the hilt. With the flat of her blade, she took a swipe at his hand, hoping that he would open his hand by reflex. But at the last moment, he pulled up his sword, letting the blow harmlessly hit it. Her sword sliced through the air in a Z cut. The first slash was at shoulder height, next the diagonal cut went across his body to his hip then another horizontal slice. The tip of her sword just snagged his hilt guard and almost jerked it from his hands. She followed up with a resounding blow to the middle of his blade. It fell to the ground, causing a swirl of dust to rise. Startled, he stared at her, and she could see the admiration in his eyes.

He bowed. "Me lady."

She smiled. "You carry a fine sword, me good sir." Her gaze traveled around the circle of men surrounding her. "Be there any doubting now? Does anyone else wish to try to disarm this English-raised woman?" A few uneasy glances were exchanged. To be beaten in a fight was bad enough, but to be beaten by a woman? That would be humiliation. Rowen allowed a small smile to appear. She had gotten rid of the army with just one sword-fight. William would be free.

"I accept your challenge, me lady." She turned to look at her challenger, although she had already recognized his voice. Donngal. Like a large raven, dread landed on her. She had never seen Donngal fight, but all the things she had Ailen about expert swordsmen were true of her cousin. He began to warm up; throwing his sword in the air and catching it by the hilt after one or two rotations. She kept a smile from showing as he realized he was trying to intimidate her by showing how at ease he was with a sword in his hands. But it would take a lot more than a spinning sword to frighten her. With an air of indifference, she began to mimic his moves.

A voice from the crowd shouted, "Stop playing! I wanna see a sword-fight not those mincing steps from some dance." Donngal with a showy flourish dramatically drove his sword four inches into the ground. Almost without watching, Rowen threw her sword. The sun glinted against the metal as it made three circles in the air, finally landing in the same position as her opponent's had.

Her English accent showing itself, she said, "Do not commit treason now. If you try to harm me, trust me that you will not live to boast about it. She had kept her voice low so that the words could only be heard by Donngal.

His eyes narrowed. "You finally reveal yourself, me lady. You be a traitor from England."

"You may think me English, but I was born Irish." She yanked her sword out of the ground. As if by magic, Donngal's sword was in his hands. As Rowen's blade resounded with her cousin's, she realized she had made a terrible mistake. She was hopelessly outmatched. The skill and the power behind his sword were far above her own level.

Only a few seconds into the fight Rowen had a startling realization. Donngal's strokes, which began whistling through the air with speed and power, slowed right before they hit so that she could block them. Her mind whirled, trying to figure out why he was doing this. His sword swept toward her, raised slightly. She tried to step back, knowing that if it hit she would lose her sword. Their blades collided. Numb, Rowen stared at the sword on the ground, then at the blade in her own hand. She lifted her eyes to see her cousin's face.

A twitch of a smile crossed it and he bowed. "Me lady." He had tried to lose, but why? Fatigue rushed through her body. She was mentally and physically tired, as well as hungry.

She looked around at the soldiers. "Come, it be time to eat."