Medieval 01 - Untamed

worked. Duncan lost his seat in the saddle.
    Even as he came unhorsed, Duncan dropped the useless lance and grabbed for his sword. Although he landed hard on his shoulder, he rolled as Dominic had, coming to his feet like a cat.
    Before Duncan could get set, Dominic hit him behind the knees with the flat of his sword. Duncan tumbled backward. There was no chance to regain his balance or to use his sword; Dominic slid the point of his broadsword between Duncan’s chin and the gap in his chain mail hood.
    Duncan froze, expecting to die in the next instant. Dominic stood above him, breathing hard from his exertions. Beneath the tip of the sword, blood trickled in a warm stream over Duncan’s neck.
    â€œYou once told me you bent the knee to no one but your Scottish king,” Dominic said in a harsh voice that carried easily over the battle ground.
    Duncan waited, his eyes narrowed in expectation of immediate death.
    â€œI give you a choice, Duncan of Maxwell. Die now or accept me as your liege.”
    For a long breath there was only silence in the meadow. Then the Scots Hammer swore, let go of the hilt of his sword, and smiled crookedly.
    â€œBetter your vassal than food for worms,” Duncan said.
    Dominic threw back his head and laughed.
    â€œAye, Duncan. Much better.”
    With an easy motion, Dominic sheathed his sword and held out a hand to help Duncan to his feet. But instead of standing, Duncan went down on one knee and bent his head, making it clear to everyone in the meadow that he would yield to Dominic le Sabre even when there wasn’t a sword pricking his throat.
    â€œStand,” Dominic said.
    When Duncan did, Dominic picked up Duncan’s sword and handed it to him hilt first.
    â€œYou have given me your word,” Dominic said. “I need no other sign of your loyalty. And an unarmed knight is good to no one, least of all his liege.”
    Duncan looked from his sword to Dominic’s sheathed weapon, smiled oddly, and sheathed his own heavy sword with a quick stroke. As he did, a long sigh rose from people in the meadow.
    Dominic turned to the waiting knights, but it was the Reevers who received the brunt of his measuring glance.
    â€œI am giving Duncan of Maxwell a large estate on land disputed by the Scots and English kings.”
    Duncan turned and stared at Dominic.
    â€œThose of you who follow Duncan have a choice,” Dominic continued. “You may ride out unharmed and never again return to my domains.
    â€œOr you may accept Duncan as your liege, and through him, me .”

25
    W HILE D OMINIC AND S IMON oversaw the departure of the Reevers who had chosen to follow Rufus rather than remain with the Scots Hammer, Old Gwyn and Meg worked in the lord’s solar, tending to knights from both sides who had been injured during the long day of games. The solar had been transformed into a makeshift infirmary, for the great hall was being readied for feasting.
    â€œOuch!” the Scots Hammer yelped, jerking back from Meg’s hands. “That hurts!”
    Duncan had insisted on being last to be treated, as his wounds were insignificant.
    â€œDo be still,” Meg retorted. “You didn’t complain nearly as much when Dominic’s sword lay at your throat.”
    â€œI expected to die. What use were complaints?”
    Meg gave Duncan a cool look. As much as she liked the Scots Hammer, she would be a long time forgetting the sight of him bearing down on Dominic, ready to end the combat with a killing blow.
    â€œTip your head back,” she said. “I can’t see your throat.”
    â€œI don’t like the look in your eyes, Meggie. Itwould be like baring my throat to a she-wolf.”
    She glanced at his hazel eyes, saw both the understanding and the rueful amusement, and felt some of her own tension fade.
    â€œIf Dominic can spare the life of an enemy,” she said wryly, “I can spare the life of a friend.”
    Ignoring the barely concealed smiles of his knights, Duncan grimaced and tilted his head back to give Meg better access to his neck.
    â€œâ€™Tis just a scratch,” he muttered.
    â€œIs that so?” Meg asked. “What with all your twitching and complaining, I thought your throat was fair slit from apple to ear.”
    The knights remaining in the room laughed at the sight of a girl scolding one of the most feared warriors in all of England. Meg looked up and smiled at them.
    â€œGo to supper,