Highness. And I can still shoot with a crossbow bolt in me; done it before. Can your men still shoot me with a bullet in them?' Why was he not dead yet? Then he took a closer look at the man with the sword - Lorcan. He had his hand slightly raised, out of sight of the king. Mick was certain that if that hand dropped it would be the end. It was good to know who really gave the orders here.
'I am god on earth!' Spit flew from the king's mouth. 'You'll die when I say you die!'
Aidan rode up beside Mick. 'With all due respect, Highness, we don't even believe in your god. And it don't look to me like we're dying right now.' He nudged Mick's foot with his own, dropping a hint. Mick took it, although puzzled as to why, and stepped his horse a little to the side. Three crossbow bolts followed him; one stayed on Aidan. None on Cal, he realised – Bren was keeping him safe.
Lorcan's face was impassive. 'What do you do here, Donohue?'
'You know what. You've seen my death warrant.'
'And I should let you? And dance for the hangman?'
'You'll dance that dance anyway, Lorcan; you know you will.' And he did; Mick could see it in his face. He could also see why Aidan had moved him to one side – the lines were clear.
Yes, he could fire with a crossbow bolt in him – as long as it wasn't right between his eyes – but fire straight? Possibly not. But if his first shot took out the guard closest to him, that man's falling body would block the shot of the man behind, giving him a fraction of a second's grace. He was willing to bet that Aidan had positioned himself similarly.
'Lorcan.' Cal spoke softly. 'My brother said you were a good sort. Cut your losses, mate. Come on, now.'
The king made a snatch at the sword, and Lorcan wrenched it out of his reach. 'Traitor! yelled the king, and a gunshot exploded. Mick threw himself forward, aiming, ready to dodge crossbow bolts, but a remarkable stillness descended. No more shots were fired, no crossbow bolts flew at him. The guard he was aiming at didn't react to him; he looked stunned more than anything else.
The king fell to the ground with a thud.
Lorcan lowered his sword.
Mick sat up and looked around, catching Aidan's eye as he did so. Aidan shook his head – he hadn't been the one to fire. Cal?
Not Cal. He looked just as shocked as the guards. Bren. The gun was still in his hands, though his young arms were trembling with the weight. Godfrey's gun.
The boy looked at Mick. 'Took it off 'im in the sewers.' He looked down at the body of the king and frowned. 'He killed me uncle.'
'Aye,' said Mick softly. 'Aye, he did.' He sat up and turned to Lorcan. 'With us?'
The young captain turned to look back at the city. Mick knew it wasn't much of a choice he was presented with. 'I'll be held as guilty as you,' said Lorcan.
'You will.'
Lorcan nodded. 'With you.'
The other four guards had already stowed their crossbows. Mick looked at them askance.
'I've no wish to face the hangman,' said one. 'If you'll let me travel with you, just to Risharr, I'll be gone then.' The other three nodded.
Mick tugged at his reins. 'If you travel with me to Risharr, and I like you, might just be I'll keep you.' He turned his horse without waiting for a reply. If these men were to be his, they had to learn he was in charge.
Aidan rode up beside him as they turned their backs to the burning city. 'Got ourselves a crew, boss?'
'Maybe.' Mick smiled. 'Maybe.'
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King's Men Page 4