Red fought on without a word, apparently tireless. I supposed he understood their meaning, if not their words. His silence, I think, unnerved his opponent, so that for just a moment he took his eyes off the Briton. The moment was enough; the flat of Red’s blade whacked down on his forearm, and he dropped his sword, his arm suddenly useless. Probably broken.

“Bastard,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “You fight dirty, like all your people.” Then the rest of them closed in, and it was suddenly four or five against one, and chaos was all around me. Red had been keeping me behind him; but now he was forced to whirl this way and that, as one man after another came in to the attack. Further away, the archer waited, silent. I held the small knife in my hand, wondering if I would have the will to use it, if I got the chance. Bodies were falling to the ground, there were groans and curses, and I could see at least one man was dead; his head was at a most improbable angle. Red had moved away from the tree, and was wheeling among his opponents. I gave him a matter of moments.

“Run!” he shouted without looking at me. “Run, damn you!” Then one of the men thrust and he parried it, and at the same time another slashed low at his legs, and a third came at him from behind, and he let out his breath with a hiss as his weapon fell to the ground. And I felt a grip on my shoulder, and my hair, and I was turned about to face one of Seamus’s men at close quarters.

“I know you,” he said slowly. “I know you from somewhere, I’m sure of it. What’s a good little lass like you doing out here in the wilds with a British freak? Huh? Or perhaps not such a good little girl after all. Selling him secrets along with your body, maybe? We’ll see what my lord has to say about that.” He yanked my hair back painfully.

“Hang on,” said one of the others. “Isn’t she—no, it can’t be. She died. This two year ago or more. Can’t be her.”

“You mean—”

“But it is her. Look at the green eyes on her. Like a cat’s. It is her.”

“Tie her hands. We’ll take her back.”

“Make her a prisoner? You could get in big trouble for that. You know whose daughter she is. And you know what Liam’s like. Think what her brothers would do to you, if they found out. She’s our own kind.”

“Fat chance of them ever coming back. Besides, why’s she with him? Tie her hands.”

As the man reached for my wrists, rope in hand, I struck upward with the little knife, and he let out an oath, and released me. Blood was welling from his hand. I dropped the knife. Red was under attack from all sides; he seemed to be having trouble staying upright, as if one leg was giving way. One of the taller men had a knife close to Red’s neck; Red gripped the man’s wrist and held the knife away, muscles straining. Above the bright blade, his eyes met mine, and their expression at last showed something beyond icy calm. He was going to die, and I would be taken home. Home to the lady Oonagh, and certain death for my brothers.