9. Laurel #2
“Well, you look lovely, dearie!” Agnes nodded toward the rows of mugs lined up on the table. “Pass these out, would you? Just grab a few and find anyone that looks important and hand them out. We can’t have any of the nobility feeling slighted.”
I picked up several mugs, careful not to spill any down the front of my dress and stepped back into the noise of the tournament grounds.
The air smelled of trampled grass, roasting meat, damp earth, and too many people pressed too closely together.
Somewhere nearby, a horse let out a whinny, and beyond the ropes, squires hurried across the field with lances and shields.
Chairs had been arranged in the spectator area for royalty and their guests, and they were beginning to fill.
Rich silks and embroidered fabric hung on the benches and jeweled rings flashed whenever someone lifted a hand.
I headed that direction with my tray of drinks and tried to look as though I had every right to be there.
Most fortunately, no one stopped me.
I handed out mug after mug. Most of the nobility accepted drinks without even glancing up to see who was offering it, and it occurred to me how very easy it would be to poison a cup.
Most of those I served went straight back to their conversations without a word to me, though a few ladies complained that the drinks were too warm.
A trumpet blast cut through the hum of voices, and most people turned. The announcer climbed onto the raised platform near the center of the field and lifted one hand. The crowd gradually quieted, though it took several more blasts before the last conversations died down.
“Honored guests,” the announcer called, his voice carrying over the field, “we welcome you to today’s tournament, and to Prince John, we all thank you for the wonderful tournament you’re hosting.”
A cheer went up as Prince John stood and raised his hand to the crowd.
“We also want to recognize several in our midst, some of whom have traveled a great distance to be here today.”
I slowed near the edge of the seating area with my tray balanced against my hip and stared as names and titles began to be read out.
Most were names I had no interest in. There were counts, lords, ladies, and dignitaries from places I’d heard about but never visited, and each stood and gave a wave to the assembly when their names were read. Then the announcer’s voice rang out again.
“Leopold the Fifth, Duke of Austria, and his son, Leopold the Sixth.”
My grip tightened around the handles of the tray.
The duke was an older gentleman with a broad chest, a thick beard, and the contented expression of a man accustomed to being welcomed wherever he went.
Beside him sat a younger man who looked to be close to Baron’s age.
He was dressed well, though not as richly as his father, and he had the bored look of someone who would rather be anywhere else.
Leopold.
I made a mental note of his face, his dark hair, the restless way his fingers tapped against his knee, and the fact that his father leaned in often to speak to him.
I waited until the announcer moved on and the noise around them rose again before I approached.
“Drinks, good sirs?” I asked, dipping into a curtsy.
“Thank you, my dear,” the older Leopold said at once. He took a mug and nudged his son with his elbow. “Leo.”
The younger man looked over as though he had only just noticed I was there. His gaze flicked to the tray first, then to my face, and he straightened slightly.
“Yes. Thank you.” He accepted a mug, and I curtsied again before sweeping away.
As I turned, I heard the duke chuckle behind me. “See, Leo? This won’t be all that bad. Look at all the girls you have to choose from.”
I returned with drinks to that group several more times, making sure that every single person in the group had been offered a beverage.
Each time, I tried to listen without appearing to listen, but there wasn’t a single word said about King Richard or where he was being held or any of the rest of it.
I couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed, even though I knew it couldn’t be that easy.
By the time Agnes finally waved me away and told me to go enjoy the party, my feet ached in my shoes and I was eager to find a seat.
I kept an eye out for Baron but was once again let down.
All the servants had been abuzz that he would be present, and I’d assumed he would sit with the nobles now that he had such a highly esteemed position, but I couldn’t see him anywhere.
Had the rumors been just talk without any basis in fact?
Naturally, even if he was there, we wouldn’t be able to give any indication that we knew each other. But I still wanted to see him nonetheless. It had only been a couple of weeks, and I already missed him.
I scanned the noble seating again, then the edges of the field, then the clusters of guards near the entrances. No familiar head rose above the crowd. With his size, it wasn’t like Baron was hard to miss.
The excitement around me faded until it sounded distant and muffled and I tried to tell myself there were dozens of reasons he might not be here yet.
He might have had duties elsewhere to tend to.
He very well could be meeting with someone important or had simply been delayed.
But the last time I had seen Baron, he had been leaving with two known enemies.
What if they hadn’t believed his story? They easily could have betrayed him, even had him hanged.
Had he walked into a trap while I came here dressed up like a fool and handed out drinks, barely sparing a thought for him?
Was I really that selfish that I hadn’t worried about Baron at all?
Or had I just assumed that nothing would ever happen to him?
What if he wasn’t the new sheriff after all?
I forced myself to breathe evenly and returned to where I had left Aalis.
She was still there, though Conrad had disappeared, and her face lit up the moment she saw me. “Oh, there you are, Izzy! I wondered where you had got to!”
“I was helping Agnes with drinks,” I told her.
Aalis’s jaw dropped. “I thought you were only saying that so you would leave me alone with Conrad!” Then she squeezed my arm, her grin spreading. “Which, thank you for doing, by the way. He asked me to accompany him to the dance!”
She let out a gusty breath of air and pressed one hand to her chest. “You will need to find someone to go with, and we can all get a table together.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” I said, still searching for Baron. I ought to focus on how to get the younger Leopold’s attention, as I had a hunch he would be much easier to manipulate than his father.
Trumpets blared again, and Aalis squealed again. “Oooh! It’s about to start!” Her voice rose so high that it rang in my ears. “Let’s find a good spot to watch!”
She dragged me toward the rope barrier and we actually managed to find a good spot.
Jousting was the first event.
Knights lined up at opposite ends of the field and their horses pawed at the ground, tossing their heads while their riders held their long lances. The crowd leaned forward as one as the signal came.
The horses thundered across the field, hooves pounding against the earth and the lances on both sides dipped lower. With an almighty smash, lances cracked against shields and one rider lurched backward so violently that the crowd gasped before they cheered.
I applauded along with everyone else. Despite my determination to scorn any tournament other than the one Father hosted, I had to admit that the events here were thrilling to watch.
I had never attended a royal tournament before, and now that I was here, I was hooked.
Even knowing I had come for information, I found myself gripping the rope as knight after knight matched his skill against the others.
Some lost their joust quickly and were eliminated from the competition. Some fought three or four rounds before they were knocked from their horses. One man hit the ground with such force that he had to be carried off, though he lifted one arm to prove he was alive as he was taken away.
By the end, only one knight remained.
He removed his helmet, his hair damp with sweat, and accepted a rose from the announcer proclaiming him the winner.
The knight turned toward the crowd, searching until his gaze landed on a woman near the front.
He strode to her, presented the rose, and she smiled, tucked the flower into her hair, and handed him a handkerchief.
“What’s all that about?” I asked Aalis.
“Oh, of course. You haven’t been to a tournament before. When a champion is crowned, he’s given a flower to award to the woman of his choice. She accepts it and gives him back a token of her affection, like a handkerchief. Then they will go to the dance together tonight.”
“What if she doesn’t accept it?”
Aalis goggled at me. “What reason would anyone have to not accept a rose from a champion?”
“Maybe she doesn’t like him. Maybe he’s a pretentious pig. Maybe he’s ugly.”
Aalis blinked several times, as if each possibility was more troubling than the last. “But he would be a champion knight.”
She said it so earnestly that I almost laughed. She truly couldn’t comprehend a situation in which someone would not want to accept a rose. I let the matter drop.
Archery followed jousting.
I watched keenly as man after man stepped up to the line, nocked his arrow, and took aim at the target at the far end of the field.
With each shot, the crowd would collectively hold its breath then burst into cheers or groans depending on where the arrow struck.
There were certainly skilled archers among them.
Most had steady hands and good posture, and one or two even knew how to judge the wind before releasing, but none of them came close to Father and a fierce pride burned in my chest. Other girls might love their fathers, but Robin Hood only had one daughter, and it was me.