Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

The Black Cock Tavern

"A what ?"

"A woman."

Tay stared at Fox as if the man had suddenly grown horns. Then, very slowly, he lowered his head to the tabletop and began softly banging his forehead against the splintering, old table. Fox wasn't sure if Tay had meant it humorously or if he was really having some kind of fit.

Across the table, Ming Tang watched Tay's reaction carefully.

"There have been women before," he said over the shouting and singing all around them. The Black Cock was, if nothing else, lively. "They either succeed or they don't, but if they don't, it is because they are unworthy. A few have been worthy."

Tay stopped banging his head and rubbed his forehead where he'd smacked it. "I have never understood why Lord Exmoor has permitted women in a warriors' encampment," he said. "They do not belong."

"Women have been known to lead armies."

Tay rolled his eyes. "That is nonsense."

"Is your Boudica nonsense?"

Tay grunted. "Where did you hear that?"

"Do you not think that I have learnt of your history? Britannia has always bred strong females."

Tay sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. "Boudica is a legend," he said. "Like Uther Pendragon and his son, Arthur. All of them legends. Which means they probably did not exist. They are ghosts of what hopeful men wished for, someone to lead us out of the darkness and into the light."

"Is that so?"

"It is," Tay said firmly. "With Boudica, it was a way for ancient man to explain why the Romans left our shores those centuries ago. They created this godlike woman, and suddenly we have women leading great armies."

A smile played on Ming Tang's lips. "Then you do not believe a woman is strong enough to lead?"

"I do not believe a woman is strong enough to lead. I never have."

Ming Tang glanced at Fox, who merely shook his head. Tay had definite opinions about women, and none of them good. But that was normal with him.

"I understand," Ming Tang said, sitting forward so he didn't have to shout over the noise of the room. "But know this—the woman you are about to train has some connection with the Lords of Exmoor. I do not know what it is, but if you insult and demean her, Lord Exmoor may have something to say about it."

Tay eyed him. "What connection?"

Ming Tang shook his head. "I do not know," he said. "But Aamir has told me that she came to Lord Exmoor and spent nearly a day with him before he had her ushered to the land of the dregs. They were friendly with one another, and Lord Exmoor told Aamir that she is to be given all fair consideration. That is why I am telling you this, Tay. You cannot treat her as you would any other woman who crossed your path."

Aamir. A powerful, intelligent warrior who had been born in Cairo and returned with St. Sebastian de Bottreaux when the man had come home from the Crusades. Sebastian, or Sebo, as he was informally called because all de Bottreaux men had names that started with "saint," was the youngest son of St. Denis de Bottreaux, the Earl of Exmoor and the man whose family owned Blackchurch and the vast majority of northern Devon. St. Denis was Exmoor. Aamir and Sebastian had been close friends in spite of their religious and political differences, and Aamir's father, a great and powerful Egyptian pasha , had permitted his son to return to England so that he could learn the ways of the Christian knights. That had been nearly twenty years ago.

Aamir had never returned home.

He was, at present, one of the right-hand men of St. Denis, helping command the dark and mysterious world of Blackchurch. But he was more sympathetic and perhaps even more loyal to the trainers of Blackchurch, so Tay knew that any word from Aamir was meant as both help and a warning. The woman about to enter training was someone Tay couldn't crush as he usually did. Even tipsy as he was, he understood that.

But he wouldn't take it to heart.

"So she knows Exmoor," he muttered before taking another swig of whatever was in his cup. "She can go crying to him when I am finished with her, and it will not matter. I will not change my ways."

Ming Tang's grin broke through. "I do not expect that you will," he said. "But do not say you were not given fair warning."

"You have done your duty."

Ming Tang was about to reply when someone was suddenly beside him, bent over and peering at him in a most curious way. Given that Ming Tang had features of the people from his country, he was used to the men of the Western world looking at him as if he was a great anomaly. The truth was that he was a stranger in a strange land, and he didn't mind explaining his origins in the least, provided the questions were respectful. Given the lowborns he was often faced with, it was a toss-up if the questions would be respectful or insulting.

"Where do ye come from, lad?" an old man with bushy white eyebrows and a heavy accent asked. "I've not seen yer kind before."

Ming Tang looked at him. "From a faraway land, Scotsman," he said. "Just like you. I am far from home."

The old man nodded. "Ye have that right," he said. "Where were ye born?"

"A province called Henan."

"Were ye born with no hair?"

Ming Tang's mouth twitched with a smile. "I shave it away. To show respect to my god."

The old man thought on that. "God only loves ye with no hair?"

"It is to show humility, much as you kneel in prayer. To show respect."

The old man was, fortunately, genuinely curious and not like some of the fools Ming Tang had encountered.

He scratched his head, studying the unfamiliar clothing that Ming Tang was wearing. "Are ye a knight, then?"

"He is not a knight," Tay said, his tone suggesting to the old man that there was little patience for his kind of curiosity. "He is a Shaolin monk, and if you do not know what that is, annoy him enough and you shall find out. He can outfight any man in this tavern using only his hands and his feet. He is a warrior to his people and to me. Show him all due respect."

The old Scotsman looked at Tay with wide eyes before returning his attention to Ming Tang. "No sword?"

Ming Tang shook his head. "No sword."

"And ye're not afeared?"

Ming Tang's smile broke through. "I am afraid of some things," he said. "Ignorance is one of them. But I am not afraid of a man with a sword."

The old Scotsman digested those words. "I've never heard of a Shaolin monk," he said, pronouncing "Shaolin" incorrectly. "Is that like a Benedictine monk?"

Ming Tang started to laugh, Fox along with him, but Tay waved a hand at the man. "Enough, old man," he said. "You've taken enough of his time. Be on your way."

The old man nodded, but his gaze never left Ming Tang. "'Twas an honor, m'lord," he said. Then he lifted his cup. "May ye never be afraid of a man with a sword."

With that, he turned away, heading back to his friends and leaving Ming Tang still grinning.

After a moment, he shook his head. "A man like that is the reason why I settled here," he said. "If he knows about me, he will not fear me, and I will not fear him. We can have many such conversations on the difference between Shaolin and Benedictine."

"I imagine you've met many such curious men in your lifetime," Fox said. "You've been everywhere; you've seen everything. You would be able to tell the character of men better than most."

Ming Tang's smile grew, but it was one of irony. "Oddly enough, the most accepting men I ever knew were the pirates," he said. "They do not care for a man's color or size or background. They only care that he can contribute to their cause."

Tay shook his head in disbelief. "I still cannot believe you were ever a pirate."

Ming Tang laughed softly as he stood up. "I was an excellent pirate," he said. "How do you think I came to Devon?"

"On a de Bottreaux pirate ship."

"True," Ming Tang said, pointing a finger at Tay. "But Lord Exmoor's cousin runs a profitable fleet of those ships—as profitable as Blackchurch is, I am certain. Had I not met the pirates known as Triton's Hellions led by St. Abelard de Bottreaux, I would have never found myself at Blackchurch."

"Blackchurch and Abelard's pirates are nearly one and the same."

"To many, they are. Both ruthless, both very rich, and both filled with terrifying men who serve them."

With that, Ming Tang wrapped his robes more tightly around his body and pushed through the crowd, heading for the old, splintered door.

Tay and Fox watched him go before Fox turned in Tay's direction. "Now you know," he muttered.

"About what?" Tay asked.

"The woman recruit," Fox said. "We came to tell you earlier in the day, but it wasn't the right time. You had recruits to train, and in your anger, you might have killed every last one of them, so it was best to wait until you had a more congenial companion."

Tay lifted an eyebrow. "You?"

"The cup in your hand."

Tay focused on his drink, some unknown concoction of ale and something hard, something that was distilled in Ireland and brought over in casks. Aqua vitae , it was called. It was indeed a congenial companion, mostly brought to these shores by Triton's Hellions as one of their many exclusive cargos that had made them all very rich. The drink was too expensive by itself for the poorer clientele, so tavern keeps cut their ale with it to make their patrons drunker, faster, and then they raised the price of the ale.

In Devon, everyone was a pirate in some way.

"Tell me something, Fox," Tay muttered after a moment.

"If I can."

Tay looked up from his cup. "Am I so harsh that I would punish everyone around me?" he asked. "Have I deteriorated into something fed by an endless well of bitterness and not common sense?"

Fox shrugged. "Whatever feeds you makes you the best trainer at Blackchurch," he said. "No one cares if it is a well of bitterness or an inherent need to punish everyone around you because, whatever you do and however you do it, in the end you are fair. You are always, inevitably, fair. Do not question your motives, my friend. It is unnecessary."

Tay looked at the man he loved like a brother. In fact, they looked somewhat alike with their black hair and dark eyes, but Fox's skin was pale, like cream. When it was cold, his cheeks flushed with roses. Tay, on the other hand, had the look of his mother, a woman born in Athens bearing darker skin and features that looked like those carved on the ancient marble statues. Fox was taller, but Tay was wider. They were two of the biggest men at Blackchurch, trainers that had to earn their spot as teachers of warriors.

But each one had their own motivation.

Each one had their own demons.

"When I drink this stuff, I think of her," Tay said, looking at the liquid in his cup. "I am reminded of the lass who made my head swim just like this ale. Have you ever known that?"

"Nay."

Tay snorted softly. "It is an uneasy feeling, but wholly delightful," he said before downing the last of his cup. "She laughed like an angel and made my head swim with her beauty, but a lord's son with money took her away from me. And she went willingly."

Fox had heard the story before, and he didn't want to hear it again, mostly because Tay would drink more and become angrier, and this wasn't a night for that. Fox wanted to get back to his home in the village without missing teeth or broken bones, which could happen if Tay got into a fight with someone he didn't like. Or looked at him strangely. Sometimes, it simply didn't matter if he was in the fighting mood. Therefore, Fox sought to cleave the line of conversation before it truly got started.

"I know," he said shortly. "You've told me. The merchant's daughter promised to love you, but then she left you for the Earl of Shitemoor or something like that."

"Satmoor," Tay murmured.

"Satmoor," Fox said. "Tay, have you not realized this yet? She was not worthy of you. Any woman who would make promises, to any man, is not worthy of a good one. And you are a good one. Better to find that out about her before you married her, lad."

Tay sighed heavily. "I suppose," he said, scratching his head. "She told me she loved me."

"I hear this every time you've been drinking."

Tay looked at him, suddenly embarrassed. Clearing his throat softly, he sat up in his chair. "You are correct," he said. "Forgive me. It was over two years ago. and I… Well, I feel like a fool for going on about it, but sometimes…"

He was emotional and uncomfortable, and Fox took pity on him. "You're not a fool," he said. "It was a disappointing moment in your life, and understandably upsetting. But I will tell you something else."

"What?"

"I believe it was your pride damaged more than your heart," he said, winking at him. "A heart will heal. Pride sometimes takes longer."

"Do you think so?"

"I know so," Fox said. "So these women who have come into your group of recruits… you are punishing them, Tay. We all know it. Exmoor knows it, but he doesn't care because it weeds out the ones who truly don't belong. But that fairness I spoke of… you may want to consider showing some of that to the next female who crosses your path."

"You mean the one who seems to mean something to Exmoor?"

"Her too."

He had a point. Only Fox and a few others could speak so frankly to Tay without losing teeth.

A serving wench passed by with a pitcher of drink in her hand, and Tay grabbed her, demanding she fill his cup. When his cup was nearly overflowing and she walked away, Tay took a long drink of that potent ale.

"I will try," he said, smacking his lips. "No promises, but I will try."

Fox's dark eyes glittered with humor. "See that you do," he said. "Now, there's a game over there that I want to be part of. See it? By the hearth?"

Tay stretched his neck to see several men rolling bones. "Go," he said, waving Fox off. "I shall wait here."

"You do not wish to join me?"

"Nay. I'll keep my money, thank you."

Fox grinned, standing up and heading over to the table full of men swearing and drinking and gambling. Money was changing hands at an alarming rate.

As Tay gulped more of his drink, the entry door swung open and people entered. Other than turning away from the cold night air that had filtered in when the door opened, he wasn't paying any attention until he heard a crack off to his right. He turned around in time to see a woman flying onto his table. She crashed into him, nearly sending him off his chair, and he instinctively grabbed her so they both wouldn't go down.

It took him a moment to realize that he was looking into shockingly beautiful eyes.