Chapter Eight
Six men at arms and Norman had taken the wagon back to Erith to unload the goods purchased that morning and to collect their knights’ equipment, including shields, additional swords, joust poles, pennants and banners, a list of Patins, and additional armor.
Norman knew what Braxton and his men would need and ably directed the men at arms to collect and load it back into the wagon.
He even brought along two additional chargers, young animals that were still being trained.
Not only would it be good to bring them in case one of the other chargers broke down, but Braxton might decide to ride one of them just to give them the experience.
It had been over a year since Braxton had competed in a tournament and the men left behind at Erith were disappointed that they did not get to go.
A swift wagon could make the trip between Erith and Milnthorpe in less than an hour.
It had taken them less than an hour to return to Erith, the loading had also taken less than an hour, and soon they were back on their way.
One of the young chargers was acting up and Norman ended up riding the horse all the way to Milnthorpe.
They met up with Braxton and the others near the southwest end of the tournament area.
Braxton’s men immediately began unloading equipment and pitched two large tents, both well-made shelters in Braxton’s colors of crimson, white, green and gold.
The more Gray spent time with the man and saw how he functioned, the more she realized that Braxton de Nerra was no ordinary knight bannerette; he had an entire world that revolved around him, in spite of the fact he was considered a knight without property.
Braxton put Brooke and Edgar up in the wagon to keep them from being run down by the men setting up tents and offloading equipment.
Strangely, they had been sitting together eating Brooke’s candy since Gray had wrapped the boy’s ankle with nary a harsh word between them.
Gray stayed with Braxton, watching him direct his men and coming to understand a little bit more about the man and his personality.
She noticed that he never had to say much; more often than not, he merely pointed or directed with a short word and his men leapt to do his bidding.
He wasn’t heavy-handed, but he was firm.
She liked the way his strong, quiet authority carried.
And he always had the right answer for any question.
He caught her staring at him a couple of times, a quizzical look on her face.
She would merely smile and he would smile back.
As the sun approached its zenith and the little encampment was finally and carefully organized, the knights began to change from the battle armor they had worn for the ride to Milnthorpe into lighter-weight, more pristine protection.
Gray stood in the larger tent, watching curiously as Norman unfastened all of Braxton’s heavy, dented armor and began replacing it with nicer-appearing body armor.
“Why are you changing armor?” she asked the inevitable question.
He glanced up from adjusting the hang of the breastplate. “Because this is armor specifically designed for tournaments. It’s easier to move in, easier to joust in, yet provides some protection from a blow.”
She looked dubious. “I do not understand.”
He smiled faintly at her. “The heavier stuff that I wear all of the time is made for battle. It can be restricting, but the protection it provides is worth the difficulty of movement. When you are in close quarters battling to the death, you want something heavy to protect yourself with. When I am up on a charger with a joust pole in my hand, the only protection I need is against my chest, arms, and head. The rest of it is superfluous.” He held up the lighter weight armor pieces.
“See this? It is designed for my right arm and shoulder. See how the section of armor here that fastens to the breastplate is large and circular shaped, like a platter? It’s designed to not only protect my right shoulder, which the opposition will be aiming for, but to deflect the blow because it is shaped like bowl.
This armor is designed especially for a joust. For the mêlée, I will wear my heavier armor. ”
She understood, somewhat, watching Norman strap on his leg armor. Braxton stomped his foot, letting the protection settle comfortably on his leg once Norman was finished. Then the lad went to work on the other leg.
“Usually, both Edgar and Norman assist me,” Braxton watched the dark-haired lad work quickly. “I am normally dressed far more quickly than any of the other men.”
Norman picked up the pace, thinking Braxton was giving him a hint. Gray smiled as she watched the boy’s fingers work swiftly over the leather fastens. “I think he is doing a remarkable job,” she said.
“He usually does.”
When Norman finished with the other leg, Braxton took a couple of good stomps and settled the rest of the armor.
He twisted his torso, stretching out and moving his plate protection to a comfortable spot.
Norman grabbed Braxton’s broadswords, scabbards, and other necessary equipment and made a dash for the charger outside the tent.
Gray stood in the dimness of the tent, watching Braxton fuss with a shoulder strap that was too tight. He glanced up, noticing that she was staring at him again.
“What is it?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing,” she cocked her head at him. “I simply haven’t seen a man dress for battle in a very long time.”
He continued to fidget with the strap. “Your father?”
She nodded. “I remember him going to battle when I was young, though at that point, the wars with Henry had ended. My father was fifteen years old when Simon was killed at Evesham in twelve hundred and sixty-five, so he never had the chance to fight alongside his father. He was too young. He went to his grave with that regret.”
“What about Garber?”
“Never,” she said, her expression changing.
It was apparent that when discussing her late husband, there was not much pleasure in it.
“Garber was not a knight in spite of being raised that way. I never saw him in a suit of armor, though his father was quite a warrior. Garber was too concerned with his drink and gambling to bother with anything else.”
Braxton had never shown much interest in learning about Garber Serroux other than cursory knowledge. But the closer he drew to Gray, the more he wanted to know about this man she had been married to. He was inherently curious.
“I have only heard the darker side of Garber Serroux,” he said, finished adjusting the strap. “Surely the man had some redeeming qualities.”
Gray shrugged. “Not particularly. The moment he married me, he began to sell off my father’s possessions.
They were passed down from my grandfather; furniture, fine weaponry, things like that.
He took them all and sold them in London, not telling anyone that they were possessions once having belonged to Simon de Montfort.
Then he went and gambled all of the money away on dog races.
And that was the beginning of our descent into poverty.
He was a drunkard, rude, abusive, lazy and dishonest. I can honestly tell you that he had no redeeming qualities that I was aware of, and I was married to him for fifteen years. ”
His blue-green eyes were fixed on her. “What do you mean when you say that he was abusive?”
“I mean that he used to like to strike me when he was drunk. Not always, but sometimes. It depended on what he was drinking. If he was drunk on ale, then he was not so mean. But if it was anything else, he turned quite violent.”
Braxton took a step towards her, reaching out to gently stroke her arm. “I am sorry,” he said quietly. “You did not deserve that. In fact, you have deserved nothing of what your ties to Garber Serroux brought you.”
“It wasn’t my ties to Garber. It was my ties to Simon.”
He knew that. “You only deserve the greatness of that association, not the unfair shame cast upon it.”
He was gentle and sincere. It almost made her forget every bad deed Garber, or her association with the de Montfort name, had ever executed against her.
His manner, and time, had eased her dreadful memories a great deal.
But it was the first time she had ever heard anyone apologize for the misfortunes of her fate.
“It is of no matter,” she said. “He is gone and you are here. That is all that matters to me now.”
He didn’t take his eyes off her as he stepped close, gazing down into her exquisite face.
He didn’t want to pull her into an embrace against the hard armor he wore, so he took her hands, bringing them to his lips.
He kissed the fingers sweetly, turning her hands over to kiss her palms. It was a tender yet exhilarating gesture that brought a smile to them both.
“And I will be here for some time to come, so you had better become used to my presence,” he leaned down and kissed her lips. “Now, I suspect everyone will be waiting for me. Are you ready to be entertained?”
Her gentle, dreamy expression fled. “Braxton, I really wish you would not do this. It frightens me.”
He winked at her, kissing her fingers again before letting her hands go. “Not to worry. You’ll enjoy this, I promise.”