‘Now, gentlemen, ten paces, if you please, and then await my instruction.’
Mulgrave moved back from the line of fire and watched as the two men slowly moved apart. His stomach was knotted now, and a great fear filled him. Both pistols were now primed, but, though a coward, Person could still win. One well placed shot and Gaise Macon could be lying dead upon the cold ground.
As the duellists reached the tenth pace Lord Cumberlane called out, ‘Halt.’
Person spun and fired. Gaise Macon staggered to his left, then came upright. Blood was flowing from what appeared to Mulgrave to be the side of his head. A stunned silence followed. Lord Cumberlane stood staring at the wounded man. ‘It was a hair trigger,’ shouted Person. ‘It went off early.’
‘You were not told to turn,’ said Cumberlane, icily. He began to walk towards the wounded Gaise Macon, but the young general waved him back.
‘It is all right, my lord,’ he said. ‘The shot merely grazed my ear.’
‘I am pleased to hear it,’ said Cumberlane. ‘Now you may take your own shot. If the knave still lives after you have fired I shall see him hanged.’
Gaise Macon readied himself. Person stood blinking in the sunlight, looking wretched. His pistol dropped from nerveless fingers. Mulgrave saw with deep embarrassment that the man was weeping. It was an appalling scene. In the background a large number of Person’s soldiers had gathered to watch the duel. Some turned away in disgust. Others waited for the inevitable conclusion. Person fell to his knees, throwing his arms over his head.
Gaise Macon, the left side of his shirt drenched with blood, lowered his pistol and discharged his shot into the earth. As the sound thundered Lord Person screamed and threw himself to the ground.
Mulgrave ran to Gaise’s side. Blood was streaming from the ruined earlobe. ‘I am proud of you, sir,’ he said. ‘There would have been no satisfaction in killing such a cur.’
Gaise Macon sighed. ‘We’ll talk later.’ Slowly he walked back to the trestle table, laying the pistol upon it. Then he approached Lord Cumberlane.
T’ve never seen the like,’ muttered Cumberlane. ‘Damn, but it shames us all.’
‘As the aggrieved party, sir, I wish for no action to be taken against Lord Person. It will satisfy me if he resigns his commission and returns to his home.’
‘The knave ought to be hanged. By heaven, he’s an affront to Varlish manhood. But I will do as you say.’ Cumberlane held out his hand. ‘I hope you don’t live to regret your kindness, Gaise Macon.’
Gaise shook the general’s hand. ‘I hope I never live long enough to regret kindness, general. Though I am not sure it was kind. I think that for the coward every day carries a kind of death.’ He swung away and found himself facing Winter Kay. ‘I thank you for the use of your pistol, sir,’ he said. Winter Kay said nothing, but he returned Gaise Macon’s bow. With that the young general walked from the garden, Mulgrave beside him.
CHAPTER FIVE
DRAIG COCHLAND WOULD DO MOST THINGS FOR MONEY. HE WOULD willingly steal and rob, and would think nothing of killing a man during the process of either activity. Draig was not a man to be fooled by those who established the rules. It seemed to him that the entire world was run by robbery of one kind or another. The whole structure of society depended on it. It always surprised Draig that other men couldn’t see it. The poor hill farmer who struggled to survive through drought-plagued summers and harsh, bone-numbing winters still had to give one tenth of his crop to the Moidart’s gatherers. What was that if not robbery? Give me one tenth of all you have or I will lock you away or hang you. Draig had voiced this many times in rowdy tavern arguments. It was always fun. People would get red in the face and argue about the need for taxes to build roads and maintain schools and such. Draig would laugh at them. ‘Schools, eh? The Moidart wears silk shirts and you wear homespun cloth. That’s where your money goes.’