Page 22 of The Conqueror’s Lady (The Knights of Brittany #2)

F ayth offered up an oath to the Almighty that if He allowed Giles to live, she would spend her life trying to be the wife he’d dreamed of having. She begged for His protection. And in the end, she just prayed. But from the place where Giles had ordered her, for she would obey him in this.

Fayth watched as her father’s men came out of the woods and lined up behind Giles and his men. Together they strode towards the encampment, not bothering to hide their approach. To her surprise, even more followed out of the woods, some nodding to her as they passed. She thought it not possible, but there were some of the peasants that had escaped Lord Huard and others she did not recognise, all following her Norman, Breton, husband into this battle.

Giles did not pause, sighting Edmund and charging forward at him, sword raised, battle cry on his lips.

‘Taerford!’ he yelled, engaging Edmund alone. To her amazement, the others stood back and waited—for orders or for the outcome, she knew not, but this became a private combat between the two lords.

She cringed at the sound of it, swords clashing, metal screaming as it slid against metal. Memories of their last fight struck her and she could not watch. Turning away, she closed her eyes against the reality that would find her oldest friend or dear husband dead.

The fighting went on and on until suddenly, there was silence. Afraid to discover the results, she waited to hear the screams of the victorious side. Instead she was forced to turn and look across to the camp.

Giles stood over Edmund with his sword pointed at his neck. One movement, one small, easy push, and it was over. Edmund’s life. England’s last hope. Her friend. Her father’s liege lord.

She waited, unable to take a breath or utter a word, for Giles to lean on his sword and bring all this to an end.

All he had to do was push. He panted now, exhausted by two days with little sleep, little food and only the terror that he had lost Fayth to fill his thoughts. A small thrust and Edmund’s threat would be over. Fayth and their lands would be safe from further machinations. William would be rid of another of Harold’s kin with a claim to England’s throne.

With only one small thrust, it was over.

He looked over at Fayth and at first she did not even look in his direction. Eyes closed, he knew she prayed, but for which one? Then she opened her eyes and he stared at her, knowing now that she would not beg for Edmund’s life this time. Having thought of all the possibilities, Giles would rather have been forced to kill him without thinking, for it would leave less guilt in his heart.

He smiled grimly, realising that he’d given Fayth the same choice and asked her to make it. Aye, being forced to something was much easier than choosing on your own. And though now she would not beg for Edmund’s life, he would spare it for her and for their future together.

‘Take your men and go, Edmund.’

Lifting his sword, he allowed Edmund to climb to his feet. Brice protested loudly, as did his men, but the Saxons who stood at his back were silent.

‘Giles, the duke wants him dead,’ Brice argued.

‘I want him dead, but there are many reasons to let him live,’ Giles replied.

‘Your grant of lands and title will be in danger if you do this, Giles. Are you certain this is the course you wish to take?’ Brice placed his hand on Giles’s shoulder and shook him, staring at him as though to make sure he was listening.

Giles paused then, accepting the inherent risks in his plan—the one to aid the runaway serfs and the one to allow Edmund to live yet again.

Turning to Edmund’s men, he called out, ‘Those who wish to fight with Edmund, take your weapons and go with him. Those who wish peace are welcomed onto my lands.’ He spoke to Edmund then, even as Brice grumbled at his side.

‘You cannot win this war, Edmund. Even now your boy king seeks terms from William. Morcar and Edwin have deserted his cause, your cause, to protect their own lands in Northumbria. By Christmas, William will be king of England.’

He’d learned much from Bishop Obert before leaving Taerford. The Saxon lords would either submit or die.

‘Did you spare my life for her?’ Edmund asked, nodding in the direction where Fayth yet stood.

‘I did.’

‘Did she ask you to do so?’

‘Not this time. But I know that killing someone she considered her friend and someone so important to her father would destroy her. I love her and would see her at peace with our life now.’

‘This is not the end of it, Norman,’ Edmund threatened. ‘There are many Saxons who will rally once they know that I lead them.’

Brice growled out a warning, but Giles waved him off.

‘Continue this and you will fail, Edmund. And you will take more of your men to their deaths. Accept William and you can all live as free men here,’ Giles advised, though he knew the man’s answer before any words were spoken.

Edmund shook his head and then looked over to where Fayth yet remained, smiling at her before ordering those following him to pack up the camp. Giles waited until they’d moved off before facing his wife.

Who still stood where he’d ordered her to!

‘Do you think she will be more obedient now?’ Brice asked, as though reading his thoughts.

‘One can only hope, my friend,’ he said, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘One can only hope.’

And as he signalled her to come to him and they raced to each other, he did have hope. For the first time in his life, he dared to wish for so many things. As he captured her and claimed her before their people, hope and love filled his heart and his arms.