Chapter Thirteen
Alixandrea sat with her hands over her face, terrified to peer out of her splayed fingers.
Alone in the lists at the tournament field about a mile to the west of the Tower of London, she was supposed to be watching Matthew practice.
But she hadn’t been able to summon the courage to do so.
Every time he garnered a starting position along the guide of the joust rail, she would cover her eyes and lower her head.
Matthew made three passes against John without incident to either one. He was well aware of what his wife was doing. It only made him grin. After the third pass, he directed his massive charger up against the lists.
“Alix,” he admonished softly. “Take your hands from your eyes, love. Look at me.”
She did, blessing him with a radiant smile. He laughed at her. “What are you doing?”
She grimaced. “I am watching you practice.”
“Nay, you are not.”
“Trust me, I can see everything.”
He just shook his head, still laughing. “I do not know how that is possible, considering every time I have seen you it has been with your hands pressed so tightly to your face that you must surely be losing circulation.”
She started to laugh. “I told you that the joust frightens me.”
“If this gentle game upsets you so, how are you going to react when you see me compete in the mêlée? That can be even bloodier.”
“I shall watch that spectacle the same way I watch this one. Through my fingers.”
His wriggled his eyebrows. “Perhaps that is because you do not understand these events,” he said helpfully. “I should be happy to explain the rules of the joust so that you will not be so fearful of it.”
She stood up, winding her way through the benches until she reached the edge of the platform. “Very well, husband. Explain. Though I will not guarantee it should ease my fears.”
He pulled off a heavy glove and reached out, taking her hand.
“Allow me to try, at least,” he said. “A match is comprised of three passes against your opponent, or glances as they are called. You may score one point for breaking a lance between the waist and neck. You may score two points for breaking your lance against the helmet or for actually knocking off a helm. Once a helm is off, your opponent cannot replace it, increasing the chances of forfeiture and, consequently, your victory. Three points are awarded for knocking your opponent off his horse. Additionally, should you unseat him you not only win the match, but his horse as well. Do you have any questions?”
She looked thoughtful. “What if you do not break a lance at all? What if you simply pass each other and no harm is done?”
“Then no one scores.”
“And no one gets hurt.”
His grin was back. “True enough. But where is the fun in that?”
She feigned horror, watching him laugh at her. He brought her hand up to his lips, kissing the soft flesh gently. “Go take your seat, love. Gaston should be here any moment and it has been years since we’ve squared off against one another.”
Her horror remained, only now it was real. “You are not going to practice against him, are you? Matt, he’s enormous. He’ll… he’ll…”
“He’ll…what?” he lifted an eyebrow, urging her to finish her sentence. “He cannot unseat me. He never has.”
She did not look entirely happy. He kissed her hand again, put his glove back on, and spurred his charger back to the corner where Luke and John were congregating along with a host of Wellesbourne squires.
Alixandrea resumed her seat in the lists; this time, she put her pocket kerchief over her head to cover her face completely.
She could hear Matthew laughing all the way across the field.
His laughter made her smile. She sat there, listening to it, gazing into the white fabric in front of her face.
Suddenly there was movement on the seat next to her and she pulled off the handkerchief to find Caroline standing there.
On the field, Mark entered from the gates on his red destrier and charged across the field in the direction of his brothers. She smiled up at Caroline.
“Good morn to you,” she said. “I was simply taunting Matthew with my fear for his safety.”
She waved the kerchief around to prove her point and Caroline smiled wanly. “I do not like tournaments, either. They are brutal things.”
Alixandrea nodded, noting that Caroline looked rather pale. “I missed you last night. You left before we could speak.”
Caroline’s weak smile faded. She stammered. “I… that is to say, I.…”
“Where is your cousin?” Alixandrea would not let the woman suffer for one moment. It was apparent that she was uncomfortable. “I was looking forward to meeting her.”
Caroline’s pale face washed with surprise. She fidgeted a moment before pointing weakly behind her. “I have brought her,” she said, almost painfully. “She does not know anyone and I thought it would be rude to leave her alone and…”
Alixandrea stood up, catching her first real glimpse of Lady Mena standing several feet behind Caroline.
It was a bit of a shock, but not too terribly.
In fact, she was rather curious. Mena was indeed a pretty girl with auburn curls and green eyes.
She had a delicate face that held a timid expression. Alixandrea waved the woman over.
“Come, my lady,” she invited. “Sit with us. We are about to watch a horrid spectacle.”
Mena seemed to relax. In fact, she smiled, a pretty gesture. Alixandrea could see why Matthew had been smitten with the woman; she was indeed an appealing little thing. And she oddly felt no jealousy at all. In fact, she was quite happy to make the woman’s acquaintance.
“Thank you, Lady Wellesbourne,” Mena said gratefully. “It is indeed an honor.”
Alixandrea was feeling rather proud of herself for handling the situation so well.
Caroline was at ease, Mena was at ease, and she was sure they would all become great friends.
That is, until Mena held out her hand in the direction of the steps, motioning to someone who was apparently standing just out of her line of sight.
Suddenly, a blond-haired girl leapt onto the lists and clasped Mena’s hand.
The child could not have been more than eight or nine years of age and when the little girl turned to look at her, Alixandrea felt all of the blood rush out of her face.
She could not breathe. For staring at her from the face of that small child were Matthew’s eyes.
They were absolutely unmistakable and the wave of shock that washed over her almost had her reeling.
But she fought it. She would not let the blow claim her, no matter how severe.
’Tis not possible, she thought as she gazed at the tow-headed girl.
But her logical mind told her that there could be no mistake.
Alixandrea’s composure slipped rapidly as the child approached.
Her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears that she could hardly hear the introduction.
“My lady,” Mena said. “This is my daughter, Audrey. I hope you do not mind if she joins us also. She is eager to see her first tournament.”
Alixandrea felt dizzy. The child even had Matthew’s mother’s name. The little girl dipped into a practiced curtsy and spoke in a soft, sweet voice.
“Greetings, Lady Wellesbourne.”
Head swimming, overwhelmed with what she was confronted with, Alixandrea somehow managed to respond. It was a sheer testament to her willpower.
“Welcome, Audrey. What… what pretty hair you have.”
Audrey grinned brightly. It was Matthew’s grin. Alixandrea nearly came apart; it took every ounce of control she possessed to maintain her poise. As Mena and Audrey sat down, she turned her attention back to the field where her husband and his brothers were congregated.
Alixandrea could see Matthew speaking with Mark; she could further see when Matthew’s helmed head snapped in the direction of the lists.
He drove his spurs into the side of his charger so hard that she was positive that he had gored the animal.
The beast jumped violently and raced across the field, almost crashing into the lists in its haste.
Matthew threw up his visor, his blue eyes enormous pools of astonishment as his gaze moved from Alixandrea to Mena and finally to Audrey. He did not say a word; he did not have to. He just gawked. But his actions, at that moment, told Alixandrea everything she needed to know.
He hadn’t known.
Shaking, unsteady, Alixandrea stood up. She did not know what else do to. “My lord, I believe you already know Lady Mena. This is her daughter, Audrey.”
Matthew stared at the little girl as she stood up and gave him a smart curtsy.
He still did not speak, clearly unable to.
The women sat with bated breath, wondering how he was going to react to the obvious; each and every one of them, in their own way, knew the situation for what it was.
But no reaction was immediately forthcoming from Matthew.
After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled off his gloves, dismounted his steed, and vaulted onto the platform.
He stood before the ladies, silently towering over them.
When he finally did sit down, it was directly in front of Alixandrea.
He reached out and took her hand; his grip was clammy and quivering. She held his hand tightly.
It was a pivotal moment. Alixandrea could see what had happened, and all that had happened.
Matthew was shaken to the core at what he was confronted with.
Perhaps Lady Mena had come to tell him last night at the feast and Matthew, fearing for Alixandrea’s reaction, had chased her away.
He never gave her the chance. Perhaps Mark had also been trying to tell him, but he sent his brother away.
Matthew said he hadn’t seen her in almost ten years, so he surely could not have known about the daughter he had clearly fathered.