by Lee, Jade
Sophia stiffened. "Harm? Why, harm to those beautiful birds!"
The major chuckled, tucking her more tightly against his side as they navigated past a heavily laden wagon. "They are roosters, Sophia. Chickens. The same birds you have eaten at table."
Sophia pressed her lips together, realizing the futility of arguing. He was seeing things logically, refusing to censure something that entertained his fellow men. But this was not killing animals for food, for sustenance to strengthen the bodies and minds of families or children; this was killing for sport, and she detested it.
He was watching her closely, no doubt waiting to see if she accepted his pronouncement. She smiled at him, simply to reassure his mind. Unfortunately, he was not satisfied and continued to eye her suspiciously. But he could not watch her all the time, and so she waited patiently for her opportunity as they headed back to the major's curricle.
She knew just what to do. Indeed, she had decided upon it long before, perhaps the very moment she saw those imperial birds first lunge at one another. She would save the poor creatures whatever the cost.
She got her opportunity quickly.
In front of them, two curricles were set very close together in a long line of conveyances. The only way through was in single file. In short, the major had to release his proprietary hold upon her arm. Smiling, he gestured for her to go first, and for a moment, she hesitated, wondering at the wisdom of her choice. He would be very angry with her when it was all over.
A loud roar from the crowd overcame her fears. Another rooster had obviously just met its death. She had to prevent any more from being so brutally slain. Before she could lose her nerve, she looked away, toward some nearby trees, a smile of welcome on her face. As expected, the major followed her gaze. While he was distracted, she quickly gathered her skirts and slipped away in the opposite direction.
She did not have much of a lead on him. In fact, barely two seconds into her mission, she heard his commanding shout: "Sophia!" She did not hesitate, but headed straight for her destination. She had spotted it a few moments before and knew just where to go.
"Sophia, come back here!"
Amazing, she thought as she dodged through the audience's parked vehicles. The major's commands could carry even over this riot of noise. That voice must have served him quite well in battle.
She slid past the last of the wagons, only to arrive at a sea of bodies—gentlemen who had been unable to find a place to sit. They were pressed quite close, but Sophia was undaunted. Pushing forward, she jostled more than one of them.
Then disaster struck.
Trying to wiggle past a portly man who smelled of garlic, Sophia stepped on something slick, belatedly realizing it was a nearby gentleman's boot. It was the matter of a moment, but as she teetered, she grabbed the nearest item of clothing to steady herself, only to discover it was the unfortunate gentleman's cravat.
And that she was strangling him.
"I say—" he exclaimed with the last of his breath.
Sophia gasped at the man's bulging eyes, quickly dropping his cravat as she stumbled against his chest, both knocking him down and the last of his air from his body.
"Oh, goodness. I am terribly sorry," she said as she fumbled for purchase on the murky ground.
Fortunately for them both, strong arms pulled her up and off her poor victim. She did not have to turn to know that it was the major who had just saved her from no doubt killing the man.
"Sophia, what do you think you are doing?" he practically bellowed into her ear.
She flinched, but her focus was on her victim, who was only now regaining both his breath and his equilibrium. It took less than a moment to realize that he was not a man at all, but a youngster who had at one time been starry-eyed with devotion during her third Season.
"My goodness, Thomas!"
"Lady Sophia!" he sputtered, his eyes once again widening with horror. "What are you doing here? You must leave at once!" The young man reached forward, obviously intent on dragging her bodily away.
Of all the nerve! Did every man in England believe he could tell her what to do? Jerking away from his outstretched arm, she managed to evade both Thomas and the major, who was being pushed from behind by another rapt attendee.
"I say!" That was from Thomas, clearly shocked by her show of spirit.
"Oh, do not be a nodcock," she snorted as she pushed past. "Let me through!" But they were closely pressed, and Thomas's slim arm managed to capture her waist.
"Sophia," growled the major. He had fought his way to her and was clearly nearing the end of his patience.
"You cannot remain," interrupted Thomas as he rose to his full height. His quizzing glass found one eye, and he stared down at her through it. "Think of the scandal. No honorable women come here. Why, what would your mother say? And think of Geoffrey. It is within his rights to beat you. He is the head of your family, you know."
Sophia glared at her captor, her anger rising with every self-important, arrogant word the witless fool uttered. Beside her, she heard the major groan, but she was not to be distracted.
"How dare you try to dictate to me, Thomas—"
"Really," he continued without even pausing for breath. "You should have married me. You obviously need guidance. And this person..." He turned his quizzing glass up on the major, as if Anthony were an insect. "He obviously is not capable of controlling your odd sense of humor. What would your brother do, do you think, if he were here?"
"This, no doubt," grumbled Sophia. She pulled back her fist as far as the crowd allowed, then swung as hard as she could—just as Geoffrey had taught her.
She watched with satisfaction as Thomas's head snapped back with the force of her blow. She caught him completely off guard, and he stumbled backward before landing flat on his behind. All about them, the audience turned their heads and gasped, craning their necks to ogle Thomas.
Sophia merely lifted her chin and continued on her way, moving as quickly and regally as possible before the crowd opened enough to allow the major through. But all the while, her blood was singing. She had finally showed one overweening popinjay exactly what she thought of him. If only she could accomplish the task she had now set for herself with as much success. Then she would truly feel alive!
Sophia arrived at her destination a few moments later. Compared to the rest of the area, this particular corner was unusually quiet. The wagons and carriages were almost orderly where they were parked, each holding anywhere from one to a dozen roosters in blanketed cages. Nearby, a row of boys had their backs turned as they strained to see into the cockpit.
Sophia approached the nearest wagon and its unfortunate cargo. It broke her heart to see such noble creatures caged like this, awaiting their turn to die in the sand pit.
She did not hesitate, knowing that at any moment the major would descend upon her. The boys at the fence were also potential hindrances. Right now they were too preoccupied to notice her, but that could change at any time.
She stepped up to the first cage, a blanketed wooden crate with a simple latch. Uncovering it revealed a large, dark bird. A very large, dark bird with bright eyes. It fussed and fluttered about its cage.
"Oh, you poor thing," she said softly. "Do not worry. I shall set you free."
With a quick flick of her wrist, she released the latch. She did not wait to see the creature escape. There were trees nearby; it need only flutter a small way before gaining its freedom. Pleased, she turned her back on it, uncovering and opening cages up and down the line as quickly as she could.
"Shoo!" she cried, as she opened a woven reed basket. "Go!"
She had freed perhaps a dozen creatures before she realized something was amiss. She had been so intent on her task, she had attributed all the noise to the nearby crowd. Suddenly, she was certain that the bird cries and screams were coming from nearby. They were very loud.
" 'Ey now!"
Sophia glanced up to see several boys turning around, their expressions a
mixture of anger and horror. Following their gazes, she finally looked behind her and became thoroughly amazed by the sight.
She had thought that once freed, the birds would fly into the surrounding countryside like any other intelligent beasts. Unfortunately, these creatures did not seem at all intelligent. They were not escaping.
They were fighting.
In a huge mass of feathers and claws, they were attacking each other.
"Oh, my," she whispered, somewhat overwhelmed. "This is not at all what I intended." There was nothing to do but give the birds a little more direction. She began waving her arms at the creatures. "Fly free, fly free!" she cried. Sadly, far from responding to her urging, they merely became more excited, tearing into one another with renewed fury.
To make matters worse, the roosters caged on a nearby wagon were becoming highly excited by the mayhem. They began screeching and clawing, and Sophia watched with a mixture of awe and unease as first one, then two, then four of the birds clawed their way out of their baskets to join the massacre.
"Cover your eyes! Cover your eyes!" The major's command carried easily over the chaos, but Sophia could not understand his meaning. Did he think her too delicate to view such a sight?
And what a sight it was! Everywhere she turned there were birds fighting. Blood and feathers flew like fall leaves. Men, young and old, waded into the mess with their hands over their eyes, as if it were too horrible to see. It was at that moment that she noticed one of the birds was focused on her.
He was a large, mean-looking creature with a gaze that seemed to pierce right through her. Really, she thought, he looked quite like the major had just a moment before. "Shoo!" she said to it, gesturing it to the nearby trees.
To her shock, the beast lunged for her. Fortunately, she was as quick as the fowl, and she managed to raise her arms, knocking him away. Even so, she felt the hard cut of his beak and was gratified to realize she had the minor protection of her gloves.
"You brute!" she scolded, still trying to motion him away. "I am rescuing you, you idiot!"
But the bird had no interest in freedom, and it lunged for her again. She would have jumped backwards, but that would have put her into the thick of the battle behind her. Instead she tensed, intending to catch the bird and throw it to the trees.
Really, how could these creatures be so stupid?
All of a sudden, she felt strong arms around her, forcing her aside. It was the major, of course, interfering just when she was about to get the situation under control.
"Get in the wagon!" he cried as he turned to her attacker.
She had no choice. There was nowhere for her to go as man and bird circled one another.
"Really, Major. It is just a rooster. You need not be concern—Oh!"
It was only now, safely perched above the central fighting area, that she saw the danger, realized her mistake. These were fighting birds, trained since birth to kill one another. All about her, they fought, attacking even their handlers, who waded about with their hands over their eyes.
"Cover yer eyes, miss!" bellowed a boy from the side. "We train 'em to attack the eyes!"
At once, Sophia understood. These birds had powerful beaks. One peck to the face, and a person could lose his sight. Yet there was the major, his eyes steady and vulnerable as he faced off with the meanest, ugliest rooster of them all.
"Oh, dear," she moaned softly.
As she watched, her breath suspended in fear, the animal lunged at him. He had, in fact, adopted almost the same stance as she had only moments ago, waiting for the bird to come to him. The only difference was that he had stripped off his coat and held it out in one hand. He was also leaning forward, as if daring the fowl to attack. When the bird finally lunged—directly at his face, of course—he neatly knocked it flat, then wrapped it in his coat. The bird struggled viciously, and Sophia had no doubt Anthony's attire would soon be ripped to shreds, but by then the major would have the bird safely re-caged.
He was safe.
She breathed a sigh of relief, startled by the intensity of her emotion. But she did not dwell on it as she gazed over at the rest of the battle. Whereas the major had been quite magnificent, others did not seem to have his prowess. One youngster in particular was getting the worst of two birds.
She did not hesitate. Now that the major had shown her how to contain the creatures, she had absolute confidence in her ability to perform the task. Grabbing a blanket out of the wagon, she waded directly into the center of the fight, heading for the poor boy.
Fortunately, the nearby cocks were too busy fighting each other to notice her. She arrived at her destination relatively unscathed. Unfortunately, as soon as she readied herself to grab one of the birds, the blanket was unceremoniously ripped from her hands.
The boy, cut and bleeding, had grabbed it from her and buried himself in the heavy material. The birds, of course, immediately lost interest in the nondescript lump of fabric, especially since her bright, rose-colored gown was much more attractive.
Sophia was now faced with not one but two birds, and she had no blanket at all.
Then the oddest thing occurred. As she tensed, watching both creatures, all her senses seemed to enhance. She could see, hear, smell, even taste, everything with absolute clarity. She studied the two birds before her, noticing their every ruffled feather down to the silver spikes at the end of their feet. She was aware of the creatures behind her still fighting each other and their handlers. She even somehow felt the major, rushing forward to protect her.
In the distance, she heard the cheers and jeers of the crowd, now abandoning the cockpit to encircle this larger melee and bet on its outcome. Not a single one of them was joining in to help. In fact, they only seemed to be encouraging the mayhem.
Suddenly, Sophia was completely disgusted with the whole affair—from the stupid birds who would rather fight and die than be free to the gambling-crazed men, from the major and his silly marriage stratagems to the bloody boy who had grabbed the blanket out of her hands. She had done wrong by trying to free the cocks. She felt very bad about that—and very foolish—but she didn't dwell on that right then. Instead, she focused on everything else.
The situation was completely and totally ridiculous. She would not fight these stupid creatures. Neither would she waste her time on the rest of the men so fascinated with the sport. She would wash her hands of the entire, idiotic lot.
So deciding, she straightened, turning her back and walking away.
She did not even care when the two birds pursuing her sighted one another and began fighting. She was merely thankful that she would not have to confront them in her determination to get away.
"Sophia!"
The major's bellow once again held the clear note of command, but she ignored it, as usual. She merely continued plodding on toward his curricle. He would join her as soon as he finished dealing with the birds. It was unnecessary, of course. Eventually, the stupid roosters would either be killed or be too exhausted to fight. Then the handlers could pick up their remains. They should all do as the boy had done and simply hide until the mess was finished.
Sadly, there was no reasoning with men.
Chapter 8
Mayhem. Complete and total mayhem.
Anthony shook his head as he held open a cage for a newly captured rooster. All about his feet lay the strewn wreckage of the fight. Feathers floated in the air, carcasses lay abandoned, and angry squawking abused his ears. Though most of the roosters had been captured, a few still fluttered about, looking for something to attack, while safely off to one side, the cock owners loudly bellowed for restitution. Surrounding it all stood the spectators, all laughing so violently they could hardly stand.
Taking in the amused crowd, he felt his lips twitch. The situation certainly sparked one's sense of the ridiculous. But some of the boys sported real wounds, and worst of all, he was haunted by the image of Sophia standing vulnerable and alone in the middle of the battle.
A sh
udder ran through his body, but he suppressed it. Sophia was safe now, sitting regally in his curricle. His task now was to remedy the situation. Unfortunately, some things remained impossible even for a major of the Hussars.
Looking about, he mentally counted heads in the crowd. Over a hundred at least, with more arriving every second. Without a doubt, this chicken battle would soon entertain listeners throughout England. No one could keep this event quiet.
A surge of real fear clutched at his throat. What would this do to Sophia's reputation? Would she be destroyed? She might not care about that, but he did. And he couldn't help but recognize that she'd put his diplomatic post in jeopardy. He needed a woman of spotless repute, and Sophia no longer fit the bill. But the thought of throwing her over barely entered his mind. He would not give her up. If he lost his appointment, so be it.
Grimly, he focused his mind on the present situation. He could not save her reputation. The damage was already done. But perhaps he could use the situation to force Sophia's acceptance of his suit. Then, assuming he still had his appointment, he could take her to India where all this nonsense would be forgotten.
But how?
He turned, scanning the crowd for the man nominally in charge: the local magistrate. He wasn't hard to find. Baron Riggs stood in the center of a screaming group of cock owners. All were loudly calling for a hearing, and the baron was offering to officiate at the local alehouse. If Anthony didn't intervene soon, Sophia would soon be hauled into a common taproom, spend the afternoon being jeered at, then wind up in gaol.
Anthony set off, jingling his purse as he went, praying the baron was a bribable man. If not, Anthony's plan would create an even bigger problem.
"Baton Riggs!" he called, pitching his voice to carry over the crowd. "I wonder if I might have a word with you?"
The portly man turned, a glower on his ruddy face. "Who are you?"
"Major Anthony Wyclyff of the Eighth Hussars, sir. Could we speak?"
The baron's expression softened slightly, though not nearly enough for Anthony's purposes. "Are you responsible for this disaster?" he demanded.