Michael put two guards on Locksley, and had Nottingham and his entourage move to the opposite side of the guards' hall. The rest of the Kyn he ordered out of the room so that he could conduct the necessary interviews.

Nottingham's guards spoke only Italian and Arabic, but Michael had learned both during his years as a warrior priest. Each testified that their master had never left the compound until summoned to the sinkhole to help with the rescue. Three of Byrne's guards reluctantly supported their statements."It means nothing, seigneur," Locksley said after the men were heard. "He could have sent an assassin to do the work for him."

"All of my men were here with me," Nottingham said smoothly. "Unless you have assassins for hire here at the tournament, I could not have sent anyone to kill the suzerain. Have you asked Lord Byrne's seneschal where she was? For she was not here."

"The men have already said she was in the city," Locksley said.

"She told them she was going to the city, and they saw her leave the Realm alone. That is all." Nottingham sat back in his chair.

"No one can say for certain where she went."

"I find it highly unlikely that Jayr would try to kill her master," Michael said, "and then nearly die trying to save him."

"Why do you assume that she went into the sinkhole to save him?" Nottingham asked. "She must have heard him call out, and knew her first attack had failed."

Locksley gave him a filthy look. "You are pathetic."

"You have been very friendly with the girl," Nottingham observed sourly. "You made the arrows she used to shoot Lord Byrne.

Does she serve as your assassin?"

Robin's eyes turned black, and the guards flanking him grabbed his arms. "I will cut your tongue out of your head for that."

Michael saw Jayr and Byrne enter the hall with two of their men. "Enough."

"Seigneur, I demand an apology." Nottingham shoved Skald forward. "My man has testified that the girl was the one who gave him the false message. We have the arrows she used to shoot the suzerain in the back. The outlaw has admitted that he made them for her. She was found in the pit with Lord Byrne. What other proof do you need?"

Jayr strode quickly forward. "I did not attack my lord, and I gave no message to your seneschal. If he claims that I did, he lies."

"You see, master?" Skald shook his head sadly. "I told you she would put the blame on my head. She thinks me a fool."

"You are a fool," Locksley said.

"No, my lord, I was made one. By her." The small man straightened his shoulders and assumed an air of dignity. "Do you know, when we came here, she did not even tell me that she was a woman? Small wonder everyone laughed when I called her brother. My lord, she used me because she knew no one would believe me."

"Stop this." Jayr looked stricken and furious. "You are lying. I never gave you any message. Tell them the truth."

Skald cringed and retreated behind Nottingham. "Protect me, my lord. Either she will kill me to silence me or the outlaw will.

He followed me from the stables when I rode out to find the seigneur." The seneschal's eyes widened dramatically. "Why, I think he meant to do me harm."

Locksley began to clap his hands and laugh. "An inspired performance. Bravo."

"Was there another reason you rode out there tonight?" Nottingham asked Locksley. "To see that she had finished the job, perhaps? With the suzerain dead, and me framed for the murder, you would could have her and the Realm all to yourself."

Nottingham's black eyes drifted over him. "Or did you mean to kill her before she could bare your sins to the world?"

Locksley wrenched his arms in, smashing together the heads of the guards holding on to him and shoving them away. He snatched the sword from the wall and started across the hall for Nottingham.

"Locksley."Byrne got to the furious suzerain before Cyprien could, and locked an arm through his from behind. Michael knocked the sword out of his hand, caught it, and tossed it to Phillipe.

"Aedan," Locksley said, his voice a growl, his gaze fixed on Nottingham. "He is mine."

"Not yet, Rob." Byrne held on and looked over his head at Michael. "Lord Nottingham is no longer welcome in my territory, seigneur. If you wish him to live much longer, send him back to Italy."

Michael looked over at the Italian, who had drawn his sword, as had every one of his guards. "All of you will stand down now.

I have promised to find out the truth behind this attack. Until I do, no one will be held responsible or made accountable for imagined crimes. Anyone who disobeys my orders will be immediately exiled from this country."

"I will not leave," Nottingham said. "My honor has been questioned, and I have the right to challenge the one responsible. Let this matter of guilt be decided in the old way, on the jousting field, with copper lances. Tonight."

"Yes. A fight to the death. Oh, sweet Christ, yes." Locksley gave him a beautiful, terrible smile. "I accept."

"I would not soil my lance with you." The Italian walked past him and stopped in front of Jayr. "I challenge you, seneschal."

Chapter 18.

Byrne answered Nottingham before anyone could speak. "Your challenge is refused," he said flatly. "Pack your bags, take your heathens, and get off my land."

"I have done nothing wrong," the dark lord said, "and until honor is satisfied, I am not leaving."

"Now will you let me deal with him?" Locksley demanded as Byrne released him.

"Shut up, Rob," Byrne said. He saw the Saracens subtly rearranging themselves around their master and knew his own men were doing the same around him and Jayr. "I rule here, Nottingham, and she belongs to me. I say that she is not fighting you."

"Seigneur." Nottingham turned to Michael. "Under Kyn law the suzerain cannot interfere, and the girl cannot refuse."

"Challenges are fought by men," Michael said calmly. "Jayr is a woman. According to Kyn custom, you cannot fight her."

"Challenge me, you fucking coward," Locksley taunted. "I'll teach you how men fight."

"Law is superior to custom," Nottingham insisted, ignoring Locksley. "Men of rank are obligated to accept any challenge. She calls herself seneschal, does she not? That is a man's rank. She has a man's form and muscle, wears a man's clothing, and carries a man's weapons. She trains and fights with men. She holds rank over every man in the Realm save one." He gave Jayr a smug look. "In what way is she a woman?"

"If you need that explained to you, pal," Alexandra drawled, "you're dumber than your jacket." She came around the table to stand beside Michael. To him she said, "Jayr's shoulder was dislocated and is still healing. She's in no condition to fight anyone."

"He knows that," Locksley said, "or he wouldn't have challenged her."

"Jayr only needs one arm," Harlech said suddenly. "She's better with a lance than any man in the Realm. She'd skewer him on the first pass."

"I'll skewer him now," Locksley promised, "if someone will give me back my bloody damn sword."

Everyone began speaking at the same time, with Michael trying to sort out the different arguments. Byrne felt indifferent to the squabbling. Laws and customs didn't matter. The Italian would not touch a hair on Jayr's head, and if he tried Byrne would relieve him of his limbs.

As more of his men joined in the arguments and the noise swelled to a roar, Byrne decided to take Jayr back to his chambers.

They were both exhausted, and he wanted to go to sleep as he had last night, with her in his arms. As he reached for her hand, he discovered that she had moved away from him and now stood before the Italian.

Byrne swore and went after her.

"Lord Nottingham," Jayr said quietly just as Byrne came up behind her. "I accept your challenge."

"No."

Byrne's voice silenced every other one in the hall.

"No, lass," he said, turning her around with gentle hands. She gave him a look so solemn it almost relieved him, until he saw the wounded pride in her eyes. Of course, she was accepting to save face. He could help her. "You heard what Lady Alexandra said. You're not fit. You cannae be jousting with that arm."

"I carry on the right, not the left," she said. "The challenge was made to me, my lord. It is my honor being tested, not yours. I will fight him."

She had the courage of a hundred men, his Jayr. "I know how you feel-"

"No, my lord, you don't. You cannot decide this for me." She looked at Cyprien. "What Lord Nottingham says is true. I am a seneschal. I know my duty to my lord and my place among the Kyn. I have never relied on my sex to excuse me from what must be done by someone of my rank, no matter how dangerous it was. I will not start now."

"Jayr," Cyprien said kindly, "think carefully on what you say."

"I understand how Lord Nottingham feels better than anyone," she explained. "I have also been accused of terrible things. Like him, my honor as seneschal demands that I answer those accusations. Like him, I have only my word to offer as proof. That is not enough, obviously, so I will answer with my lance."

"If that is how you feel," Cyprien said, "then no one will interfere. The challenge has been made and accepted. The Kyn will bear witness when you meet Lord Nottingham on the field of honor."

Byrne stared at him in amazement. "You name yourself my friend? He will kill her."

"Aedan." Jayr's hand curled around his. "This is how it must be done. Trust me. Have faith in me."

"So I may sit and watch as you are slain?" He flung her hand away from him. "You cannae do this. I forbid it. I forbid you."

Misery darkened her eyes. "Forgive me, my lord, but I must."

Jayr had never defied him, Byrne realized. She had always bent herself to his will and had carried out his plans and wishes without question. She had been an extension of himself, one he had relied on without thinking. She had always put his needs before her own. Even now she apologized to him, as if defending her honor might inconvenience him.He knew, suddenly, how to make her obey. "I am your master, and you are sworn to me above all others. I order you to refuse this challenge."

No harder gauntlet could have been thrown. Their love, still new and untried, might not sway her, but the blood bond between them, of lord and seneschal, could not be broken.

And then, so quietly that he almost didn't hear the words, she shattered it. "I will not, my lord."

"So be it." His heart as heavy as a stone, Byrne turned to address his men. "Before the tournament began, I asked the seigneur to choose a new suzerain for the Realm. As of the new year, I will rule here no longer. Until that day, I am still suzerain. Vows made to me will be kept."

Harlech took a step forward. "No, my lord. For God's sake, do not-"

"You vowed by bond of blood to serve me and my house, and to obey me in all things," Byrne said to Jayr. "By refusing to follow my orders, you've broken that vow, and so you've released me from my obligations to you."

She took a step back, and Nottingham swore under his breath.

He shifted his gaze to Cyprien. "Seigneur, I call on you as witness, and declare that this female has broken faith with me. She no longer holds position in my household or rank among the Kyn. Her weapons and possessions will be confiscated, her privileges revoked."

"No," Jayr whispered, horrified.

To her, Byrne said, "Jayr of Bannock, I discharge you from my household. From this day forth, you no longer serve me as seneschal."

"Byrne can't really do that to Jayr, can he?" Alex asked Michael as he accompanied her from the hall to the infirmary. "I mean, just for saying no to him?"

"He is determined to keep her from fighting Nottingham," Michael said sadly. "Unfortunately, he saw discharging her as the only way."

"I don't get the rules here. Jayr could fight the Iceman as long as she was a seneschal. What difference does it make now that she's unemployed?"

"She has no rank, and only men-or persons-of rank may be challenged," Michael told her.

Phillipe chimed in. "Being a seneschal is not merely a job, Alexandra. It is much like entering into a marriage or having a child.

One makes a lifetime commitment to one's master."

"Okay." A thought occurred to her. "But now that she's a free agent, can't someone else pick her and make her a seneschal again? I mean, if all she needs is the job title..." The men stopped walking and stared at her. "What did I say?"

"Locksley would not discharge Will," Phillipe said to Cyprien. "He wishes too much to fight Nottingham himself."

Michael nodded. "Who else among us has no seneschal?"

"Halkirk," Phillipe said. "His man was killed two months ago during a skirmish with the Brethren in Marseilles. He came here to choose a replacement." He grimaced. "And he asked Jayr to make some recommendations."

"Find Jayr." Michael turned to her. "Alexandra, I must go and speak to Lord Halkirk.""No problem." She waved them away. "I'm going to go clean up the infirmary. See you guys later."

Alex finished an hour later in the infirmary, and packed up her medical case before she left for their rooms. It had been a long night, and for once the prospect of going to sleep didn't scare the daylights out of her. She felt tired but happy. She'd have to set an alarm; she had a feeling she was going to crash hard the minute her head touched a pillow.

Something banged behind a closed door as she passed it, and she heard someone shouting inside.

"You idiot."

At first she thought the door was made of white wood, until she looked closer and saw the frost-covered surface. Some of the tiny crystals fell as a heavy weight slammed into the door from the other side.

"Master, please!"

Alex put her hand in her pocket and used her jacket to force the latch. The door groaned and swung in, dislodging a row of icicles that rained down on her head and shoulders.

Inside the chamber Nottingham held Skald by the throat suspended above the floor, and was using the seneschal's battered face as a punching bag. Blood gushed from the small man's nose and mouth.

"Someone need a house call?" Alex asked as she set down her medical case and took out her tranquilizer gun.

The Italian barely glanced at her. "This is not your concern, my lady," he said through clenched teeth. "Please remove yourself."

"Stop hitting the little guy or I'll sedate your ass." When Nottingham ignored her and continued pounding Skald, she loaded a cartridge of nickel sulfate hexhydrate solution, and aimed for the back of the Italian's neck. "Last chance. Nottingham. Put him down."

Nottingham threw Skald against the wall, waited for him to land, and then strode over and began kicking him.