He might not have been pricked yet, but the threat was evident enough. With an incredible patience and restraint, the large Ulsterman settled his full attention on the Englishman. He spoke smoothly and calmly, though not with an ounce of fear. He'd rather be gutted than give anyone English that much satisfaction.

"Patrick Harper, sir. And I didn't do a bloody thing, save for keeping the flies off your stinking British corpse. Now, if you go and prick me with that, I'll have to rip that sour head of yours off and you won't make a pretty sight for the lasses like that."