"Fate has decreed this moment," he whispered. A flash of memory, so clear it seemed alive, assailed him. Outnumbered, he faced the men alone. Alec lay wounded, just as he was that first day in the meadow. How strange it seemed, almost as if fate were giving him the opportunity to right the wrong done years before by allowing Forester to live. Jamie gently lowered Alec to the ground. Glancing down, he silently prayed for his cousin’s life, regardless of the conclusion.
He shrugged the cloak from his shoulders, and stood eager for battle. One by one he slowly took their measure. Forester stood slightly in the middle. The other men stood behind him. Standing next to the man with white hair was a man with a jagged scar down his cheek, and next to him was one with a patch over one eye. They wore the scarlet coats of the English. The last man wore light blue brocade, as if he had just returned from the opera. Lace at his collar and cuffs made him seem completely out of place in this company. "Whitie, Scar, Patch, and Fop, what company you keep," his voice carried, although he had not realized he spoke.
Forester’s eyes narrowed as Jamie drew Gourville’s sword from its sheath with a vengeance. There was a loud rip as the jacket rent down his back.
Forester laughed, and soon was joined by the men around him. Jamie smiled, nearly chuckling himself, at how ridiculous the small jacket must look now with the back rent from top to bottom.
He wiped the smile from his face as he looked up to see the other three men behind Forester easing their swords from the sheaths. Jamie leaned down, pulled the dagger from his boot, and one sleeve tore away almost completely, holding to the jacket with only a few threads at the shoulder. They laughed again. He only smiled, then pulled the sleeve away with a loud rip, and threw it to the ground.
"So that’s where you’ve been all this time, in the French military. They do have pitiful tailors, do you not agree?"
Jamie stood silently. He put the dagger in his belt, then pulled on the front of the jacket. The buttons popped away, bouncing across the cobblestones and crackled like gunfire.
"Aye, the uniform is a poor fit, but to tell you the truth, I’m not with the French military." He pulled on the remaining sleeve dragging it to his wrist, then yanked the jacket apart, and tossed the entire thing to the ground in a heap of blue and gold. "I’ve been in the Highlands since the Colonial’s won the war."
Forester grimaced, "Scotland." He spat it out as if it were supremely distasteful.
Jamie looked down at Alec, worried that the fight might go badly, and they would kill him. He turned, searching for Laurent, hoping he would not return until the struggle ended.
"Fearful to face me like a man, I see. Do you think to escape again, or are you expecting your French friend to save you?" Forester shook his head. "There is no place you can run now that I realize you live."
"I do not wish to run, indeed, I only wish to finish what I left undone those many years ago. Remember? It is you who are the coward. You never fight one against one," Jamie laughed, then he slowly pointed to each of Foresters companions with his sword. "In the barn with a hundred more men you could not kill me. Do you think to defeat me now with only four?" Jamie glanced back at Forester, "Tell me one thing, since the curiosity is more than I can bear. Did you follow me to the Colonies, or was it a coincidence that you found me there?"
"I followed, of course," Forester laughed. "You cannot possibly believe otherwise, I planned it so expertly. I had a score to settle, remember?"
"Aye, and now I have one to repay," Jamie’s free hand moved across his chest to rub his shoulder.
Forester shrugged, "What do you expect? You are a Scot, little more than an animal, flogging was fitting amusement for you then, just as your death will be now."
"God’s teeth!" Jamie’s roar filled the air, the sound so loud that he surprised even himself. "Let’s settle it then, now, once and for all. It is time for the past to be the past," he pulled the heavy claymore from his belt, and dropped it to the ground. The loud clatter echoed into the eerie silence of the dawn. He transferred Gourville’s rapier to his right hand holding it high. The rubies sparkled in the early morning sun like drops of blood, then he saluted with a flourish.
Forester stood with the dark gray, ancient fortress behind him. His slender form outlined against it in the early morning light. His eyebrow rose then he smiled. He began to slowly unbutton his coat, "Anxious for death?"
"Death? I won’t be the one meeting his maker this day," Jamie waited a moment, but impatience overcame him.
"I am becoming rather good at this, let me help you with your jacket," Jamie laughed, then sliced Forester’s jacket down the middle, missing the buttons, just as he had Gourville’s. "You English are as fussy as a woman with your scarlet coats and fine clothes. Now, quit being such a craven fool and fight."
An oath burst from one of the other men, and they began to surround Jamie.
Forester’s face flushed then he screamed, "Remember, in the end he is mine. However gentlemen, should I fail I beg you to finish the job and kill him." He removed the scarlet remnants of his jacket almost distastefully. It dropped silently at his feet. Then he slowly withdrew his sword.
Nearly surprised by Forester’s rapid advance, Jamie swept his sword upward in a huge arc, engaging Forester’s blade with such force that the sound of steel meeting steel sounded like a clap of thunder.
Forester stepped back from the strength of Jamie’s thrust. He raised his sword, and re-engaged slicing downward and again the sound of cold hard steel echoed.
Forester attacked once more, slicing downward toward his leg, but Jamie deftly jumped up, landing on his feet, and slashed outward in a counter strike. Forester was forced backward, and was momentarily thrown off balance. Jamie thrust forward again, grazing Forester’s side. He only managed to scratch him, but a bright red stripe appeared on the white shirt.
Forester’s eyebrow rose, then he attacked with renewed strength. Forced backward by the fervor of the strikes, Jamie parried each move. Forester, in a wide sweeping blow, sliced toward his head. Jamie dipped to one knee and lunged forward, his sword cutting deeply into Forester’s right side. Forester gasped then stepped back.
Suddenly the pungent, metallic scent of blood was in the air, and memories once more assailed him of the meadow, where blood was crushed into the ground in great red splotches, and the metallic scent wafting through the spring air in the same sickening aroma. A renewed sense of revenge filled him with strength.
Surprised at Forester’s quick recovery, Jamie rose, then jumped backward, but not in time, as Forester pricked his side. He had thought Forester weakened, but instead Forester fought with renewed strength, attacking as Jamie parried.
Jamie forced Forester to retreat with a series of strikes. The swords clashing, the sound of the metal heightened to deafening noise by the high walls of the Bastille.
Each strike brought Jamie closer to his goal, and he smiled as he advanced and engaged. Forester was an excellent swordsman, much better than he remembered. He wondered if he had spent the last few years sharpening his skill as well.
Today it would be much different than it had been in the meadow, they were now equals with the weapon, and he was no longer a child. They fought for several more minutes, feigning, then advancing, until Jamie began to slowly gain the upper hand. Years of anguish seemed to meld into this one moment, and hope welled within him. Finally, he would conquer. Ultimately the anguish that had haunted him for so many years would disappear into the dawn of a new day.
Jamie whispered, "Indeed. Soon it will be over." His thrust sliced into Foresters upper arm and a tiny stream of bright red blood appeared.
Forester looked down with surprise evident on his face, jumping away, and then advancing again with renewed fervor, "You are more skilled than I expected, but make no mistake, you will die this day."
"So you wish my life, and will be satisfied with no less?" Jamie smiled.
"Indeed, nothing less will do," Forester replied. "You would have never
reached such an advanced age had I realized the lie, but the Frenchman was quite convincing," Forester’s breath was short, rasping.
"How do you think to accomplish my death when I am not tied down and helpless, with a hundred men to help you?"
Forester snorted, "Although not quite a hundred, my friends remain, you Scottish..."
"I know, I know. Scottish dog," Jamie mocked, his tone bored and indifferent. "Have you no more imagination than that?"
"You sign your death warrant!" Forester screamed furious with the taunt.
"You said that years ago when I gave quarter, but I remain," Jamie laughed, the sound echoing across the courtyard. "Tell me, why were you so angry when I allowed you to live?"
Forester did not reply, and Jamie continued, "Answer me! Did you hate the gift of life so much you had to follow me all the way to America?"
Forester laughed, and once more tried to strike at Jamie’s leg, "Yes, I followed. Quite a coup d’état actually, it was difficult to learn where you were assigned, not an easy task for the enemy. It took several thousand pounds, but I managed. Then I had to be assigned to a company that was near yours, that was a little less difficult."
"The meadow was that important to you?" Jamie jumped backward, then sliced downward, scratching Forester’s thigh. "We fought a fair battle. Yet, I don’t expect to understand the reasoning of a coward."
"Damn you! You..."
"Scottish dog," Jamie taunted, then thrust his sword, narrowly missing Forester’s chest.
One of the men surrounding him laughed, and Forester’s face grew red. He lashed out. His sword slashing though empty space, then he struck out again in a simple reposte.
"I am becoming bored with your lack of interesting conversation," Jamie grinned. Forester’s anger caused certain ineptness and he found a perverse pleasure in noting Forester’s responses wane.
"Well then, I would not wish to bore you," Forester’s breaths came in gasps. "I did not come after you because of the meadow, no, not at all. However, you did leave me a cripple. This was far more important to me that one simple battle."
Puzzled, he nearly missed Forester’s next move, "I don’t understand."
Their thrusts were becoming more deadly, and Jamie parried a blow, then another, finally slicing back into Forester’s uninjured arm.
Forester looked at his sleeve, "Now I owe you for ruining an expensive shirt as well as everything else."
Jamie looked at him strangely, "It is I who owes you, remember? That day in the barn, now there is something one does not forget, nor forgive."
Forester limped forward. His sword swooping downward in a circular motion only to be stopped in mid-air by Jamie’s blade in a prise de fer as their swords touched nearly at the hilt. Jamie stepped closer, then pushed Forester away with such force he nearly lost his balance.
Forester gritted his teeth, "Too bad you did not die that day. Since then I have been nearly content, at least until the truth came to light."
Forester made a simple advance, and Jamie parried easily, then he attacked, his blade circling twice before slicing deeply into Forester’s arm. Yet Forester recovered, his next strikes were more forceful, and Jamie stepped backward easily deflecting each blow.
"It was only after John Pierre asked about a man named MacQueen, a friend of his nephew, that I finally realized you were alive. He promised to have your body delivered to me. I waited with such anticipation but nothing happened. Finally, I went to his house and received the news that you had been mistakenly taken to the Bastille. Of course I was livid."
Forester sliced high and Jamie ducked, then twirled around to face him again, but not before he took a scratch to his left arm. His blade continued slicing downward, catching Forester across the chest in a long slice. Then sliced upward, cutting the waistcoat in the opposite direction. Blood oozed through his waistcoat, "What an inconvenience to find your plans thwarted."
Forester looked down for a moment, horror clearly written on his face. When he looked back up his eyes were as crystal ice, "Not at all. I simply went to the Ambassador and convinced him I needed to interrogate a spy. He obtained permission for my visit to the Bastille. Imagine my fury when I found you were not one of the prisoners. You had escaped me once more, but then life changes so rapidly. My only solace was that the Marquis, who had tricked me and laughed at my stupidity all these many years, was finally within my grasp. My luck has changed! I now can understand the true meaning of joy since I have found you. I have thought of the barn more than I care to admit. It was quite unsatisfactory to learn you had died so easily."
"Easily?" Jamie shook his head and stepped back. His sword stilled, "How terrible for you. And to think you lived with such bitter disappointment for so long." He attacked with renewed fervor, gaining the advantage as his sword sliced through Foresters leg.
"My bad leg," Forester groaned. "Well at least I will be left with the good one."
Jamie struck Forester’s sword again with such force the sound once more echoed against the walls, "You will be left with nothing!"
"Indeed. The way I have left you with nothing?"
Jamie thrust his blade forward, plunging it deep into Forester’s shoulder and he gasped, then pulled away.
"It seems you have improved your skills," He pressed his fingers to his shoulder, and the black leather glove came away smeared with deep burgundy. "Not to worry, it is a mere scratch. I stand ready to continue." Forester took a deep, shaky breath then readied himself for the next attack, "As I was saying, like the way I took everything from you?"
"And what do you mean by that? I escaped with my life," Jamie growled.
Forester laughed, "By sheer trickery. Suffice it to say, I would have followed you to the ends of the earth had I known. I had a mission to fulfill."
"Trickery or no, I survived."
Forester weakly deflected the next blow, "I left you without a mother."
Jamie suddenly stood completely still, and was rewarded with a prick on his arm. He quickly jumped back and regained his guard, "What is your meaning, Sir?"
"I killed her, you dolt. And what a pleasure it was too."
Jamie suddenly became angry, his sword slicing through the air, but missing his opponent.
Forester taunted, "I took her away from you, just as you took her from me."
Confused again, Jamie raised an eyebrow, "I do not understand, what do you mean?" His sword slicing again into thin air as Forester quickly moved.
Forester grinned, "Of course, I still was not satisfied. My revenge was not yet complete. I took your father’s life next."
"Damn you!" Jamie’s blade arced to intercept Foresters, but he missed. Forester’s blade scratched his thigh, and he jumped backward.
Emotion! God’s teeth, he had to control himself. Jamie fought to remember his lessons of the last few weeks. The sword master’s words echoed in his mind. You are among the best I have ever taught when you fight with your head, and not your heart. Jamie took a deep breath.
"Crude and not my style, but my father insisted that it look like an accident. I surprised Laird MacQueen, then pushed him from his horse while we were arguing. He landed on a rock, and I used it to finish the nasty business. They thought it was an accident. He was so badly beaten it looked like a horrible fall from his stallion. I do not think anyone realized what happened. Did you?"
Forester’s glee was apparent. He thrust forward again, and was rewarded by another thin prick on Jamie’s leg, "This will be the ultimate revenge, to add you to the list, and this time Father will reward me with a title and lands. He has promised as much. I will be a peer of the land, MacQueen land, unfortunately land in Scotland, but nevertheless a peer. And you’ll be dead," Forester laughed.
"Why?" Baffled, Jamie stepped back again. His sword deflected blow after blow, his mind doing much the same as Forester’s cold words rained down on him like ice. "Is it simply because we are Highlanders? Tell me, though I know the answer. Does your father own the land next to o
urs? The man has given us so much misery."
He received no answer, but could see affirmation in Forester’s eyes.
He took a deep breath, and began to talk to himself, just as he had years ago, trying to maintain his reason. You are here to save Nicolette. It is too late for Father or Mother. Do not think of that now or he will win. Think only of what you must do to save her, Laurent and Alec. THINK!
Jamie fought his anger, and it became cold, hard and frozen within, like ice. Step by step he fought, countering each move with ease, and regaining the calm. The finesse he had practiced so hard to learn and his strength returned in force. He thrust forward again slicing across Forester’s waistcoat, shredding the material, but not cutting to the skin.
Forester seemed surprised at his recovery then fought again with words, "Can you not guess why I hate you so?"
Jamie did not reply but concentrated on his blade.
"In the beginning, when I told Mother, she seemed almost happy but she could not fool me."
"Mother?"
"Yes, our Mother, yours and mine. The one that loved you and hated me."
Jamie thrust forward. His blade sinking deep into Forester’s thigh, "My Mother?"
"Indeed. Your mother had a son from a naughty little liaison before she married your father. I am he. She left me to go to that Scottish dog, as if I were so much rubbish, off with the old, and on with the new. She could have been married to an English nobleman. Instead she ran away to Scotland. She could have been a Countess."
"You killed your own mother?" Jamie shook his head, his thrust slicing across Forester’s sword hand, the leather narrowly saving him from losing it. "You really are mad."
Forester’s eyes widened with surprise, "She was nothing to me, and I am not demented, simply an avenger of past wrongs."
"Madmen always think they fight for justice," Jamie’s blade swooped downward again, slicing into Forester’s forearm. "She ran from a forced, loveless betrothal to a man she hated, not from a helpless child. My father loved her. She found peace in the Highlands."
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