Duel

They were there now, along the large, level field covered with low, cool grass.

The pale and light sun of the first morning, the blurred orange-reddish colour of the dawn slammed with its faint light on the faces of the two.

Six meters from each other, standing, silence reigned, nothing more was to be heard in that situation, which was different from the shy and light chirping of birds or the rustle of the cool wind that pushed, together with the grass also the the hair of the two on their sweaty foreheads.

Michael Hayes promptly placed his sweaty and warm hand on the cold woody case of the pistol he was holding on his belt, he was nervous, he didn't want to give it up.

Juniper was six meters from him, a good enough distance to act first in their duel, a distance, however, perhaps risky enough to take his life.

-Michael...- the voice, weak and tired, came out of the tight and pale lips of the other like a whisper -...you don't have to, it's not necessary-.

The other turned to his opponent, briefly noticed his face, it was pale but not frightened or full of fear or even if he was he had to admit Juniper was more able than him to hide his feelings.

It wasn't necessary he said, he smiled faintly, it wasn't necessary but that was a duel and once it started there would be no way back.

The honour of their respective Houses was at stake between the two lords, the Hayes against the Whiteblossoms.

The Hayes were a fairly important noble family in the Northern lands, substitutes and regents in the Scottish barony after the Whiteblossom family had been driven out and exterminated.

While the others had begun to make wars among themselves, his house had taken advantage of the fact to remain united and somehow conquer more importance and power even among the bourgeois.

The Hayes family was a family of Jewish origin which, from the holy land had laid its roots in the northern part of Scotland, for more than ten generations.

Michael knew his family had left their place of origin due to the persecutions that had happened to his people in the past centuries, but on the other hand he felt as a young lord, born and raised in Scotland to mixed blood parents, a part of the land itself.

His family was in a position of advantageous alliance with the crown, the Whiteblossom were against it.

Lord Michael's hair, of a caramel brown color and wavy like the waves of the stormy sea, touched, thanks to the thrust of the weak wind, his pale face full of fear.

Under his lips sometimes covered with small wounds due to his hysterical biting, his white teeth were closed, tight, against each other.

He knew his enemy was a good duelist, most likely because dueling had never been his strong point, nor his family's strong suit.

Michael was afraid, he thought positively of course, he would win but no one assured him that he would overcome that fight without losing his life.

He was beginning to tremble, not from the cool of the new day or from the wind, but from fear of him.

-It is not necessary, you said...- he had somehow found the courage to speak again -...Juniper, what led you to change so much?-.

Lord Whiteblossom took a few steps back, looked into Michael's dull grey eyes, into his wet eyes, he knew not from some external cause but from sadness and fear.

That man, who at that time shared his own territory was too terrified to ever be able to strike like that.

That forced enemy who at that moment was trembling shared his same age at that time, in his thirties.

He was still young, too young to die, he had a family, not that he had nothing to lose.

-Michael...- Juniper stammered one last time from his pale dry lips-...please, think back to your actions, we were both so close in our childhood, you were like a brother to me...-.

Hayes shook his head slightly, lowered his gaze, saw the cold and wet green grass beneath him, could it be the last vision of him in that life? That the beautiful and clear colour of the green grass would have been covered with his own blood?

He squeezed the gun even tighter in his trembling sweaty hands, he didn't understand why his enemy didn't do the same.

That was a duel, damn it! Not a chat between longtime friends.

-The only one I owe forgiveness to is Yahweh, to whom I owe a lot of things right now...for having betrayed my own father, my brothers and sisters- Michael stammered slowly in his panic.

He knew that if he didn't do that, his father would probably hate him for the rest of his life for not fighting on the side of his own family, for his honour.

He had never known love, this was what hurt him, that he could not bear.

Many times he had given his heart to a woman but Michael had never been able to give his body to a person, even if he loved her deeply.

Every time someone touched him intimately he felt the great and strong need to end that contact there, he did not like to be touched and for him sexual relations had never been an important part of his life.

He very openly accepted his asexuality but just in that moment, in the moment of his death, he felt this social pressure, this duty of "union" sadly fall on him.

Michael was afraid, he would die in that moment, he would lose his life, he would never be there, he would never again be able to see the sky, never feel the heat of the sun on his skin.

He couldn't allow all this, he had too much to lose, he had a family, a father, brothers and sisters who loved him and would never endure his death.

Juniper, that haughty and arrogant man who pretended to know his emotions had nothing to lose: no parent, no brother or sister, no wife who spent her life with him in that place, a child who couldn't stand him and lived across the sea.

He had nothing to lose, nothing that big.

Michael held the gun in his hands, trembled, salty tears fell from his dull grey eyes.

His gaze mingled for some time with that of the other man, with his blue eyes, the color of the sky.

-Michael...- it came out of his lips one last time.

Then it all happened, one shot, time had passed so quickly, the bullet fired from the long, iron barrel of the gun.

The man was mortally waiting for the Baron to return the fire, for his life to end, time was immensely slow when he expected death.

Michael felt the liquidity of his own urine wet his underwear and so the bottom of his pants, he wasn't ready for that, not ready for what was going on anyway.

Juniper had decided to point the barrel of his rifle at the sky, not to shoot, he had given up, he had given up on the thought of being able to hurt a person with whom he had lived so long.

Why? For what reason had he done it?

The Baron's eyes widened, the bullet had met him, directly in his right leg, he understood it, he felt it as he was able to observe that a large part of the man's trousers had formed a deep hole.

Michael dry her lips with both hands.

What had he done? Why had he done it?

Juniper's body slowly fell to the ground, he felt he was still alive, he felt his movements, he felt the long breaths and exhales but not a moan seemed to come out of his lips.

He seemed to have not mortally wounded him, he was alive, he would not have been for long if he had not acted.

Michael managed to reach the body of the wounded man, he could not act soon, not at that moment when his eyes already wet from sadness and fear, had added salty tears of panic.

He calmly managed to remove the shirt from the man's body, took the other's hand in his, pressed the tissue to the open wound that still continued to expel red and warm blood.

As a first action he would have had to dip his fingers inside the wound and remove the bullet from Juniper's body, he would have done so if he hadn't known its consequences.

Initially, the elimination of the bullet from the body of the enemy would have caused the release of more blood and immense pain for the wounded, he would have risked exsanguination.

As an alternative, his fingers would have risked bringing germs and bacteria into the human body with the risk of infecting the open wound.

So Michael did the only possible action that could help the man at that moment, he struggled to lift the man's slumped body on the ground, lifted him onto his back, took both of Juniper's legs under his arms and asked him to position his arms around his neck to hold on.

He would take him to the nearest town where a doctor would have a chance to operate on him and save his life.

-My father would kill me if he knew that I am saving the life of an enemy...- Michael commented, tightening his peers' legs to his back.

Juniper slowly placed his face on one of his shoulders, Michael felt his friend's warm and comfortable cheek resting, he felt Juniper's blond and curly hair gently caressing and tickling his face.

He blushed slowly, that was something that was mostly done between lovers, to lay their head on the shoulders of the other.

-Yet you are saving me...this means therefore that in the bottom of your heart there is still some positive feeling towards me- Juniper admitted smiling weakly, slowly closing his eyes, he felt that situation with a lot of relaxation.

He knew the wounded man was still alive, he could feel his heart actively beating from his chest and thundering on his back.

-Shut up...- Michael ordered as with weariness he led that injured body towards his safety -think about surviving-.