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“We’ve met before!” Lord Alastair was standing opposite Gideon, his sword blade dark with Paul’s blood.
“Quite correct,” replied Gideon, and Paul admired—if rather reluctantly—the calm assurance of his manner. Had the boy no fear at all? “Eleven years ago, shortly after your failed attempt on Count Saint-Germain’s life, we met at Galliano’s fencing school.”
“Marquis Weldon, wasn’t it?” said his lordship scornfully. “I remember. You brought me a message from the devil himself.”
“I brought you a warning, which, unfortunately, you ignored.” There was a dangerous glint in Gideon’s green eyes.
“Demon riffraff! I knew it as soon as I set eyes on you. And you parried neatly, but you may recollect that I won our little fencing match.”
“I remember it very well,” replied Gideon, shaking the lace cuffs at his wrists as if they were bothering him. “As if it were only last week. Which from my point of view, in fact, it was. En garde!”
Metal clashed against metal, but Paul couldn’t see who had the upper hand, for the remaining servant had gathered his wits together and was making for him with his drawn sword.
The man fought less elegantly than his master, but very fiercely, and Paul felt the strength in his injured arm quickly failing him, in spite of that short breathing space.
When would he finally travel back? It couldn’t be much longer now! He gritted his teeth and feinted. For several minutes, no one spoke—there was only the clashing of blades and hard breathing to be heard—and then, out of the corner of his eye, Paul saw Lord Alastair’s valuable sword fly through the air. It landed on the paving of the yard with a dull clang.
Thank God!
The servant took a couple of steps back. “My lord?”
“That was a sly trick, demon!” said his lordship angrily. “Against all the rules! I was winning!”
“Seems to me you’re a bad loser,” said Gideon. He was bleeding from a wound to his arm.
Lord Alastair’s eyes were burning with rage. “Kill me if you dare!”
“Not today,” said Gideon, putting his sword back into his belt.
Paul noticed the slight movement of Lord Alastair’s head and saw the servant tense his muscles. Quick as lightning, Paul threw himself between them and parried the stroke before the point of the servant’s sword could drive in between Gideon’s ribs. At the same moment, Gideon had drawn his own sword again. He ran the man through the chest with it. Blood spurted from the wound, flowing profusely, and Paul had to turn away.
Lord Alastair had used the moment to pick up his sword and spit the brown envelope lying on the paving on the point of it. Without another word, he turned and ran away through the arched entrance of the yard.
“Coward!” shouted Paul angrily. Then he turned to Gideon. “Are you hurt, boy?”
“No, it’s only a scratch,” said Gideon. “But you don’t look so good. Your arm … all that blood…” He pressed his lips together and picked up his sword. “What were those papers you gave Lord Alastair?”
“Family trees,” said Paul unhappily. “The ancestral lines of the male and female time travelers.”
Gideon nodded. “I knew you two were the traitors, but I didn’t expect you to be quite so stupid! He’s going to try killing all the count’s descendants! And now he knows the names in the female line. If he gets his way, we’ll never be born.”
“You ought to have killed him when you had the chance,” said Paul bitterly. “He took us for a ride. Listen, I don’t have much time left. I’ll be traveling back any moment now, but it’s important for you to listen to me.”
“Not likely!” Those green eyes flashed angrily at him. “If I’d known I was going to find you here today, I’d have brought a test tube with me.”
“It was a mistake to get in touch with the Alliance,” said Paul quickly. “Lucy was against it from the first. But I thought that if we could help them to render the count harmless…” He put his hand to his stomach. As he did so, his fingers met the package of letters that he had stowed away under his coat. “Damn! Here, take this, boy!”
Hesitantly, Gideon took the package. “Stop calling me boy. I’m taller than you.”
“These are part of the prophesies that the count has always kept from the Guardians. It’s important for you to read them before you get the idea of running straight off to your friend the count to tell tales of us. Shit, Lucy will murder me if she hears about this!”
“How do I know they’re not fakes?”
“Just read them! Then you’ll know why we stole the chronograph. And why we have to keep the count from closing the Circle of Blood.” He was gasping for air. “Gideon, you have to look after Gwyneth,” he said quickly. “And you must protect her from the count.”
“I’d protect Gwyneth from anyone!” There was an arrogant look in Gideon’s eyes. “But I don’t know what that has to do with you.”
“It has a great deal to do with me, boy!” Paul had to exercise self-control not to come to blows with the lad. God, if only he had the faintest idea!
