Scotland! pt 2

[likeroaringlions]

They do reach the Clyde by nightfall, though too late to cross at the ford. There's just light enough left for hunting: dusk, with rabbits coming out. William has them a supper in no time. And the rain has stopped, more or less. A dry-enough night for a cooking fire, and it's not a bad prospect, spreading out the sheepskins and blankets to sleep on.

Cold, though. It would have been nicer traveling a month ago, or even just a couple of weeks.

Comments

[likeroaringlions]

He looks sideways at Hotspur, then grins hugely and leans over to punch him on the arm. "Worked that out, did you? Well, no worries, it's no the Percys I have in mind to visit, I wouldny bring you with me and then do that. I'll see how our friends the Nevilles are doing." Ha. Another arm-punch.

[harryhotspur]

Harry can't help but grin. Who doesn't hate the Nevilles?

"If thou wouldst fight--" Oh he shouldn't say this. "Look you, it is an easy thing to set in motion some small skirmish."

[likeroaringlions]

"Aye?" He remains flopped over by Harry, lying on the sheepskins now, propped on one elbow. "I thought I'd just bring along ten or a dozen lads and see what we ran into."

You know, all spontaneous like.

[harryhotspur]

"It may do well," Harry agrees. "But what shalt thou do if thou com'st across nary a Neville?"

[likeroaringlions]

"Console myself with bringing home a few cattle, won't I? It's good practice."

[harryhotspur]

Harry's in Battle Plan Mode now. "Ay, do so, but do not steal them by stealth, as a thief in the night-- make plain to all who might sleep within 'twas the family Douglas did such a thing-- and then, in honor, they cannot but respond-- if not that night, then upon the morrow or some days after."

[likeroaringlions]

He looks up at Hotspur, and then back into the fire. "My father would just about murder me." William may not care too much about the shame of stealing cattle by stealth as a thief in the night--but it's pleasant to hear Hotspur urge honor.

[harryhotspur]

Harry snorts. "Art not past the age of fearing thy father?"

(Was he?)

[likeroaringlions]

William falls quiet for a moment or two before laughing. "I didny say I was afraid. I said he'd just about murder me. Just a statement of fact."

[harryhotspur]

"Well, so shall the Nevilles, if thou shouldst face them in battle," Harry says. "If thou dost not fear it, think not of it."

[likeroaringlions]

"That's right. You canny think too much on any of it. Canny picture it in your head too much."

He yawns and curls up, pillowing his head on his arm now.

[harryhotspur]

"Not if it will turn thee from thy purpose." Picturing glorious things is fun!

Harry glances down at William. He's still sitting up, his arms resting on his knees.

[likeroaringlions]

Yes, it's plain from the way William smiles into the fire that he's on top of the picturing-glorious-things situation. (Suppose the Nevilles do come swarming after him, ring his castle; suppose he holds them off, rallying the frightened castle people; suppose he goes out to fight, one on one, man on man; suppose he wins; suppose he has the choice, whether to kill his man or spare him and hold him prisoner...) "Too much to ask you to join me on a raid, isn't it," he asks abruptly.

[harryhotspur]

"It is." He's almost tempted. Almost. "I do not fight Englishmen for sport."

[likeroaringlions]

"Aye, fair enough," he says without any heat. "I'd fight another Scot for just about any reason--but not because an Englishman told me to."

He rolls onto his back in a comfortable stretch, and then heaves himself up to sit, bits of dead leaves in his hair. "Well. You figure we should keep watch tonight?"

[harryhotspur]

"I think it best. We have little worth the taking, save the horses. But rest you first," he says. "And I shall take the watch."

[likeroaringlions]

William makes some polite noises about offering to take first watch, etc., but before long he's rolling himself up in his plaid, curled up next to Hotspur.

With one hand on his sword. There's people out there that would kill them for the blankets, let alone the horses.

[harryhotspur]

It's a few hours later when Harry lays a firm but careful hand on William's shoulder and gently shakes him awake.

"Quiet, now," he murmurs. His hand his on his sword; there are voices not far off.

[likeroaringlions]

He wakes on an indrawn breath. His first thought is that he's needed for Jamie, but it clears instantly and he's rolling onto his feet. "How many? Do you know?" His voice is pitched as low as Hotspur's.

[harryhotspur]

Harry shakes his head. "I know not." He grins. "I cannot tell one Scot from another."

[likeroaringlions]

"Just remember you're for the Douglas this time, not against." He can't tell either: the voices have stopped--

(Have the horses been taken? No, there's Parsnip's whinny.)

(This is real, it's really happening. He has a clear-headed moment to ask himself: Do I want to run? But the fear that he'd been afraid he would feel isn't there.)

(He should follow Percy's lead. Percy knows what he's about.)

--people are shouting all around them.

[harryhotspur]

Percy knows what he's about. He looks ready to spring and he's grinning wide.

And here they are-- not that many, but then again they're only two. But who's got time for counting, there's a fight.

[likeroaringlions]

There are at least three of them. William's sure of that. There might be more. But he sees two men facing Hotspur, and he sees another man making for the horses, and that's the one he runs for. He slashes out at the man's back, and there's blood. The man whirls, falls. There's a blow to William's arm. He's already bringing his sword around. No--that man's gone, Percy has him. The first man--no--he's scrambling onto his feet--a general call to run, run--

--and oh. Ha. HA, he's suddenly facing Harry Percy, bloody sword to bloody sword, and all he can hear is his own heartbeat.

[harryhotspur]

"Thou didst well!" Harry cries. In a moment he'll be disappointed it was over so quickly, but not quite yet. "Passing well!"

[likeroaringlions]

He taps the flat of his sword against Harry's, just for the thrill of the contact. And then he's laughing. "Christ, Mother of Christ, we just--" Won! They won! "We--Jesus, Harry."