Chapter 8: Combat

"There's 42 of them," reported Emil as the gate closed behind him. "They're poorly armed except for the leader and one or two others."

"What did you tell them?" Clark asked impatiently.

"I challenged the leader. We'll fight man to man. If I win, they'll leave. If he wins, I'll probably be dead, and then you'll either have to fight or yield to his demands."

"Why would you fight for us?" Clark asked incredulously. "You have no stake here. You and Diana could just go over the back wall and disappear into the woods."

"If I don't fight him now, I'd only have to fight him later. They'd move up the valley to my place next. Better to solve both our problems at the same time," Emil responded logically. "Besides, you're all my friends. I can't let my friends down."

Clark sighed and shook his head, and then he went to Emil and gave him a bear hug.

"You're a good man. What weapons have you chosen?"

Emil smiled. "He asked if I had a sword. I think I have a good one."

"You'll need a shield and some armor." Clark suggested. "I noticed that the tall dark one was wearing heavy leather. I think I can equip you well enough. Let me see what I can find." With that, he dashed off toward his forge.

Emil turned to David. "I need to talk to Diana. If things don't go well for me, will you help her over the back wall with the dogs?"

David nodded and Emil strode off to find her. She was still in the barn where he'd left her. She wasn't happy when he explained the situation, but she listened carefully to his instructions.

"If I'm killed, go over the back wall with the dogs. David will help you. Go into the woods. Ralph is waiting there, and if you whistle like this, (he gave a low whistle), he'll find you. Stay out of sight, but watch carefully. If the villagers fight and lose, the dogs will lead you home. If the villagers win, stay with the villagers. It's your best bet."

For a moment, Diana was shocked into silence. Then she threw her arms around Emil and hugged him tightly. "I'm afraid," she whispered. "I don't want to lose you."

"It's okay to be afraid," he responded. "But you're not going to lose me. I'll win."

"How can you always be so sure of yourself?" she questioned.

"I don't know, but it's as if I've been preparing for this day my whole life. I'd be disloyal to my father's memory if I didn't believe I'd win."

Then, without thinking about it, Emil pulled Diana's face to his and gave her a passionate kiss.

"I have to go now. Remember everything I told you and stay safe."

Then he turned and left without another word. Diana stood motionless, stunned, her heart racing from the thrill of the kiss. Clark was waiting for Emil at the gate.

"Try this," he said offering Emil a leather breastplate. "The exterior is leather, but it's lined with Kevlar that we took from old military vests. I tried to make chain mail but I found that it takes too much time and this is better anyway."

As village men helped to strap on Emil's breastplate, Clark produced a pair of heavy gauntlets, a round shield about 18 inches in diameter and armored arm guards.

"They're all Kevlar-lined," Clark advised. "They might get a little chewed up, but they're much lighter than steel or solid wood."

When Emil took his sword and signaled he was ready, the village men swung open the gate. Emil stepped out only to be greeted by the howls and taunts of Morgan's men. Confidently he strode across the distance that separated the village stockade from the old oak where Morgan waited. He stopped about five paces from his adversary.

Morgan scanned Emil up and down. "Nice sword," he smirked. "Did you make sure the villagers understand our deal?"

"They understand," answered Emil. "Do your men?

Morgan nodded. "Any last words?" he mocked.

"Come ahead," Emil retorted as he raised his sword to point at Morgan's chest.

Morgan advanced cautiously, carefully studying Emil's face. Morgan was no amateur and he took no chances. Even if the boy did look green, he'd feel him out first, see what he was made of and then make his real attack. He made an exploratory thrust, which Emil parried weakly with his shield nearly taking this tentative attack in the ribs. Morgan thrust again, this time slapping Emil's blade to the side. Again the defense was slow in coming, and again Morgan's blade narrowly missed Emil.

Morgan had studied all he needed. The boy was weak and slow. This would be a short fight. With confidence now, Morgan made a much stronger attack, one designed to penetrate Emil's timid defenses and pierce his neck just above the breastplate. The attack was never parried. Instead, at the precise instant of Morgan's thrust Emil moved more rapidly than Morgan had ever seen a man move. Morgan's thrust struck nothing but air, while Emil's blade made a four-inch long gash through Morgan's leather armor and into the flesh of his thigh. Enraged at this boy's stroke of luck, Morgan reared back and slashed down violently with his sword. The stroke was blocked completely by Emil's shield. It was as if Morgan's blade had struck solid rock. At the same time the tip of Emil's blade carved a groove across Morgan's breastplate, again tearing deep enough to cut flesh.