Chapter One #2
William was on the run. He bolted onto the tournament field itself just as Curtis and Kieran were taking positions against one another. As Christopher watched the situation carefully, he felt a body standing to his right.
“What’s that about?”
Christopher recognized the voice of his son-in-law, Alexander de Sherrington.
The man had been helping Curtis prepare for his bout and now stood on the sidelines, watching like everyone else.
Alexander had married Christopher’s eldest daughter, Christin, several years ago and they had quite a brood of wild sons, in whom Christopher took great delight.
He knew a little something about incorrigible lads because he’d fathered six of them.
Perhaps he understood them better than most.
“The Terrible Trio is at it again,” Christopher muttered.
Alexander looked at him, puzzled. “Why do you say that?”
“Because de Norville was using a lance of softwood,” Christopher replied. “William told me that they were testing them out because they hoped they would be more of an advantage in the joust, but they did not tell the marshals, so they are using illegal tools. Hage has one, too.”
“And you are stopping the bout?”
“I am forcing William to inform the marshals.”
Alexander frowned, looking out to the field once more to where de Wolfe was holding up the first run as he spoke with the marshals. “My God,” he said in disgust. “Why can that trio not use their cunning and intelligence for good? Why must they always cause so much mayhem?”
Christopher snorted softly. “It is never evil,” he said.
“They aren’t the type. But they’re naughty children and have been ever since they learned to talk.
Edward de Wolfe was constantly lamenting about his youngest son and how chaotically brilliant he was.
William is, if nothing else, entertaining. ”
Alexander didn’t happen to think so. “Why are they using softwood lances?”
Christopher shrugged. “Presumably to avoid the breakage like we saw on Essien,” he said, turning around to see that Essien was stripped and Ashton was cleaning the blood from Essien’s face as Addax supervised.
“A softer wood would be more flexible in the joust. But you saw how that lance exploded, did you not?”
Alexander nodded. “I did,” he said. “I was just at the base of the lists trying to explain that phenomenon to some worried women.”
“Your wife and her mother?”
“Aye,” Alexander said, pointing toward the middle of the lists. “Lady Hereford is in her usual seat, next to yours. When I was finished assisting Curtis, she wanted me to see to Essien. How is he?”
“Tell her that he is well,” Christopher said. Then he looked pointedly at Alexander. “And tell Rebecca that he is well. That is why you really came, was it not?”
Alexander fought off a grin. “Rebecca saw the blow,” he said. “She is… concerned.”
Christopher sighed heavily. “She is too young to be concerned for him.”
“She has seen eighteen summers, Chris.”
“And he is twenty years older than she is,” Christopher shot back. “Essien is too old for her.”
“I am almost twenty years older than Christin,” Alexander said softly. “Our marriage has been perfect.”
Christopher grunted unhappily. “Why, Sherry?” he demanded weakly. “Why must you remind me of the age difference between you and Cissy?”
Alexander started laughing. “Because I like to be cruel,” he said. “Honestly, Chris, I would not worry if Rebecca is infatuated with Essien right now. She was infatuated with someone else last month, wasn’t she? A d’Vant son?”
Christopher just shook his head. “A de Nerra, not d’Vant,” he grumbled.
“I should be used to it by now, my daughters finding men fascinating, but the truth is that I am not used to it. Christin was never particularly interested in men until she met you, and Brielle only had one man in her life from the time she was a young lass. There was never anyone else for her than Cassius, so the truth is that Rebecca is my first experience with a daughter who seems to be infatuated with a new man every week. She is driving me mad.”
Alexander continued laughing. “If it is any consolation, Essien is aware and he has no interest in her.”
Christopher looked at him, frowning. “Why not?” he said, offended. “Is my daughter not beautiful enough for him?”
Alexander snorted, shaking his head. “To tell you the truth, Rebecca is probably the most beautiful of your daughters—aside from my own wife, of course,” he said.
“And that is saying something. Rebecca has that flaming red hair and Dustin’s gray eyes, and it is an astonishing combination.
You are going to have to protect her against the hunters looking for a lovely conquest.”
Christopher sighed unhappily. “I already am,” he said. “There are a few knights at this tournament who have tried to give her their favor. That is why Dustin is in the lists with her—to fight off the amorous horde.”
Alexander continued to chuckle. Rebecca de Lohr, who had been a child with wildly curly, untamed red hair, buck teeth, and skinny legs like a chicken’s had grown into a woman of magnificent beauty somewhere in the past few years.
Her teeth were still a little bucked, but it only created a more charming smile.
And she was utterly, completely fascinated with Essien, who came over to stand with Christopher and Alexander as William finished speaking with the marshals.
“What is de Wolfe doing?” Essien asked.
Christopher glanced at the source of his daughter’s infatuation. “I told him to tell the marshals about the softwood lance that Hage is using,” Christopher said, watching the marshals approach Hage. “I have a feeling this bout will be over before it starts.”
“They will disqualify him?” Essien asked.
Christopher nodded faintly, his only answer, as he watched the marshals engage in conversation with Kieran. Essien, however, was more animated.
“They had better disqualify him,” he fumed. “If he uses on Curtis what de Norville used on me, it will be a miracle if Curtis is not impaled. In fact, I will tell the marshals precisely that.”
He started to move, but Christopher and Alexander held on to him. “Nay, lad,” Christopher said. “The marshals will make their own decision.”
By now, the marshals had taken the lance from Kieran and were inspecting it.
As everyone on the grounds and in the lists watched, the marshals pored over the lance before finally shaking their heads at Kieran and indicating that he was disqualified.
Without a word, Kieran turned his horse around and headed out of the arena as Curtis was awarded the victory by default.
By this time, several of the competitors were gathering around Christopher and Alexander, confused about what they’d just seen. There were more than twenty of them at that point, and two of them had already gone against William, Paris, or Kieran, since they were currently in the semifinals.
The questions were beginning to come.
Since Christopher didn’t want a war party on his hands, men out for the blood of the three knights who had used the non-sanctioned wood, he had to think of something fast. Even Curtis, who had been poised to go against Kieran, came back into the staging area, completely confused.
Christopher went to his son to see what the marshals had told him because he would base his reply to the other knights on what Curtis told him.
Curtis was disappointed. That was clear. He slid from his steed, an expensive and high-strung animal that his father had given him when he received his knighthood, and began unlatching his helm as his father approached.
“Well?” Christopher said. “What happened? What were you told?”
Curtis grunted as he pulled his helm off, revealing shiny blond hair, closely cut. “Hage has evidently fractured his lance and did not bring a spare,” he said. Then he shrugged. “The man cannot compete and I win by default.”
Christopher liked that answer. The marshals had used their discretion because they didn’t want Kieran singled out as someone to mistrust because, in these games, men were dependent upon their reputations to be admitted and to compete.
A nasty reputation for underhandedness could follow a man for years.
“Ah,” Christopher said, turning to the group of knights behind him. He raised his voice so all could hear him. “Hage fractured his replacement lance and does not have another. He is out of the competition.”
A short, sweet answer, one that satisfied everyone, and they began to return to their regular duties.
Christopher looked at Alexander, who waggled his eyebrows in agreement over the little white lie.
Kieran Hage was a man among men, most trustworthy, and given the fact that Christopher had known him, as well as William and Paris, for most of their lives, he knew the whole softwood experiment wasn’t born from mischief, but from a sincere desire to use something in competition that might give them an advantage.
But not at the cost of the poles exploding on impact.
“Who is next, I wonder?” Alexander asked, looking out to the field as William followed Kieran out of the arena. “I haven’t seen the list of competitors yet.”
“Me,” Curtis said, disgruntled. “I was supposed to triumph against Hage. I feel cheated.”
Christopher eyed his eager son. “You will be able to compete in the next round, so I wouldn’t feel so.”
Curtis wasn’t eased. He looked at Essien and the bloody scratch on his face. “At least you were able to humiliate de Norville,” he said. “I was not even afforded that opportunity.”
Essien shook his head. “De Norville is easier to humiliate than Hage,” he said. “It is possible that Kieran could have bested you, but only by the remotest chance.”
He was trying to be kind in saying that Kieran was a beast of a man who would not go down easily. There was always the chance of failure. Curtis was young and skilled and as strong as a bull, but Kieran was more than a match. Too bad, too.