Chapter Six #2
Arissa choked on her next breath, coughing indelicately into her hand in a desperate attempt to keep from laughing.
Unfortunately, she knew Regine was right; her mother thought that viewing a host of thinly-clad men might stir her innocent juices, feelings a virgin bound for the cloister should not experience.
But Arissa had spectated numerous Stick and Ball games and was surprised that her mother would wait until now to voice her concerns.
Arissa took a deep breath, swallowing the last of her cough. “I understand your concern, Mother, but I would have you understand mine. This will most likely be the last Stick and Ball game I ever witness, and I should like to enjoy it if I may. Does this displease you?”
Maude and Livia looked to one another. When Livia shrugged faintly, Maude returned her attention to her daughter.
“Nay, dear, it does not. But control yourself as a well-bred young lady should.”
Arissa smiled, kissing her mother on the cheek. Even if the woman was dull, she was loving and sweet. “Does this mean you will not allow me to play?”
Maude looked shocked for a brief moment; when the younger girls began to giggle, she realized Arissa was jesting and her stunned expression relaxed into a smile. “You naughty child, take your seat and I shall not hear another word from you.”
Snickering, Arissa perched herself on a collapsible stool. Her mother, convinced that Stick and Ball was a ruthless sport offensive to a refined woman’s taste, offered her farewell to the group and retreated to the castle with Lady Livia on her heels.
But the fact that Maude publicly condemned the unruly game did not prevent her from finding a convenient window by which to watch the bloody spectacle.
She would rather die than admit her fondness for a game where loosely-clad men engaged in bone-jarring combat.
Half-naked, sweaty males warmed her aging blood.
The game got off to a rapid start. A no-holds-barred melee, the sounds of sticks against leather and sticks against flesh filled the air. The two teams were blended together so tightly that it was difficult to make out any particular individual until the crowd broke in chase of the loose ball.
As usual, Richmond was at the head of it, using his skill and strength to work the ball down the field towards the enemy’s goal-line.
He and Daniel made an effective team, passing the ball between them and keeping their opponents confused.
Arissa and Penelope watched, pride shining on their young faces, as their respective men displayed their power.
“Daniel loves this game,” Penelope sighed dreamily. “He’s entirely skilled, don’t you think?”
“Just a moment ago you did not want him to play,” Arissa reminded her, her gaze riveted to the field.
Penelope shrugged. “I do not. But he’s rather good at it.”
Regine, finished with her food and wiping her hands on her satin surcoat, moved to sit on her sister’s lap. Arissa grunted when her baby sister, outweighing her by twenty pounds, deposited herself on a tender thigh. Beneath them, the leather and wood chair creaked dangerously.
In spite of the groan, Arissa did not utter a word of protest; Regine had sought comfort on her lap for as long as either could remember, a display of the true fondness between them.
Soon enough, she and Regine would be without each other and Arissa swallowed the emotion she felt as she wrapped her arms about Regine’s thick waist. Soon enough, these affectionate moments would be no more.
Unfortunately, Regine’s body blocked a good portion of her view and she strained to peer around her sister as the game progressed.
Richmond was the first man to gain a score, much to the delight of the crowd.
Even the Lambourn soldiers on the battlements roared their approval and Arissa smiled, watching Richmond’s modest grin as his teammates congratulated him.
She was so focused on him that she failed to see Tad’s malevolent expression, waiting impatiently in the middle of the field for the game to resume.
One score to add fuel to his already-raging fire. Tad’s mood served to deepen his sense of retaliation against a man who seemed intent to make an example out of him. Whereas Richmond was playing a game, the heir to Goring Hall viewed Richmond’s score as a personal insult.
When the match commenced once more, it did so with a vengeance.
Richmond and Bartholomew took charge of the ball again, stealing it from a de Becket soldier and rushing it nearly the entire length of the field before an opposing player managed to snatch it from Richmond and carry it in the opposite direction.
Like a group of naughty boys, the grown men gave chase until the soldier was unceremoniously tripped, by Daniel no less, and sent to the ground. In a mad swarm, a host of men descended upon the hapless player and nearly crushed him in their haste to regain the ball.
The first team to gain five points was the winner; therefore, there were no time limits.
As the afternoon progressed and the lively game continued, Lambourn’s team managed to gain three points and was close to gaining their fourth thanks to Richmond’s deft skills.
At times the game bordered on a melee, but it was a good-natured violence if such a thing was possible.
The crowd yelled themselves hoarse all in the name of merriment.
And The Horde was no exception. As Emma and Penelope cheered themselves ill, Arissa realized her legs were growing numb with her sister’s weight and she was seriously considering asking her sister to remove her person.
She took her eyes off the field long enough to shift her deadening bottom on the stool when she suddenly heard her friends gasp.
“Richmond’s been hurt!” Penelope cried.
Arissa stood up so fast that Regine fell to her knees. In a panic, she saw that the game had come to a halt and the two teams were huddled in a tight crowd in one corner of the field. The officials and the earl himself were making their way onto the turf.
“Dear God,” Arissa breathed. “How…. how do you know it was Richmond?”
“He was running with the ball when a group of men pounced on him,” Emma said urgently. “He’s the only man who has not risen to stand.”
Arissa did not wait. She pushed through the crowd of spectators hovering at the edge of the field and made her way onto the trampled grass.
The entire game had come to a halt and an uneasy silence settled as she picked her way across the partially-destroyed earth.
She could see her father’s concerned expression as he gazed down at the injured player and it fed her panic all the more.
“Father!” she called out. “What’s happened?”
William saw her approaching and abruptly moved toward her. “Richmond’s been injured, Riss. Nothing to worry over.”
She could feel the color draining from her cheeks. “Nothing to worry over? I must see him!”
“There is nothing to see. His men will take care of him,” he grasped her by the shoulders and turned her about. “Return to your friends, dearest. The game will be resumed in a moment.”
“No!” she dug her heels into the soft earth, twisting away from him. “I want to see Richmond!”
William sighed heavily, his meaty hands on his hips. “Arissa, he does not need your bothersome presence. You shall only interfere. Now be a good lass and do as I say. Return to Penelope and Emma.”
Bothersome. Arissa’s eyes filled with tears and she obediently turned away from her father, a man with little patience and even less understanding.
Although he never meant to be deliberately cruel, he conveyed a callous attitude nonetheless.
Sniffles turned into soft sobs as she walked away and, somewhere above the noise of the crowd, she thought she heard Richmond’s voice.
She couldn’t make out his words, but it was a distinct relief simply to hear him speak.
At least he was not unconscious, or worse.
William’s insensitive command echoed in her ears and she fought the urge to go to Richmond in spite of her father’s orders, knowing that he was most likely correct in his assessment of her presence.
Still weeping, she continued on her way until a loud shout stopped her.
It was Richmond.
He was on his feet, parting the group of men that were surrounding him. His nose was bloodied and there was a nasty cut over his left eye, and he appeared to be leaning heavily on Daniel for support. He looked weary and beaten.
Her father’s words forgotten, Arissa turned on her heel and closed the gap between them.
“Are you badly injured?” she demanded softly, her misty eyes wide with concern.
He smiled weakly, touching her cheek. “Nay, kitten. I just need a bit of a rest, ’tis all.”
In spite of the fact that she couldn’t hope to support a man of his size, she slung his other arm across her small shoulders and put her arm around his waist, determined to help him walk.
“I shall tend you myself,” she said firmly. “It looks as if you may require a stitch over your eye.”
William moved beside them, scrutinizing Richmond closely. “I saw what happened, Richmond. I have already lodged a stern protest with the officials.”
Richmond waved him off, his ears ringing and his head spinning. “’Tis merely a game, William. No need for protests.”
“What happened?” Arissa demanded, looking to her father.
William’s face was hard. “Tad de Rydal. He hit Richmond across the face with his stick.”
Arissa’s mouth opened in outrage as Richmond nodded his head gingerly. “Right on the mark, too. I shall wager he’s broken my nose.”
Arissa’s eyes were wide at Richmond as she studied his beautiful face, now swollen with injury. She turned to her father. “You must dismiss him from Lambourn this instant, Father. Surely you cannot allow him to remain after what he’s done.”
William nodded sharply. “Certainly not. He’s all but ruined your birthday and I shall not have it. I shall not have it, I say!”