Chapter Twenty-One #5
But the surgeon wasn’t finished, he glared at Marcus. “And what are you doing running about here with that crushed arm? I told you to keep it immobile and to rest a great deal. If it turns gangrenous, we have to cut it off and no one wants a one-armed knight.”
Dustin let out another strangled cry and looked at Marcus with fear. Marcus echoed Christopher’s thoughts, he wished the fool would shut up before he had Dustin swooning.
“My arm is healing nicely, Burwell,” he said evenly “Let’s focus on the baron, shall we?”
The group of knights and men were dispersing and the field marshals were conferring in the center of the arena as Christopher and his group passed slowly by.
The crowd, seeing their champion up and walking, albeit with help, began to stomp and cheer wildly.
In no time the lists were literally quaking with the excitement and appreciation of the crowd as Christopher crossed the field.
Two of the marshals approached Christopher. “My lord,” the head marshal bowed quickly. “The officials have conferred and we all agree that you are the winner of the event.”
Christopher’s guts were hurting him the longer he stood. He leaned heavily on Leeton. “And just how did you come to that decision?”
“Sir Dennis hit the ground first, my lord,” the man replied. “You unseated him without question. Had he not gored your destrier, you would not have met with the dirt.”
Christopher glanced over his shoulder as a couple dozen grooms and stable servants were towing his horse from the field.
He was deeply saddened; Boron was nearly seventeen years old and the two of them had seen through every campaign and tournament since he had been a squire.
With Boron beneath him, there was never a worry, for the animal could read his mind and he knew he would miss him greatly.
“Very well,” he replied wearily.
The marshal turned to Dustin, who was behind her husband and clinging to David. “My lady, will you award your husband his just reward?”
Dustin was so drained she could barely walk, but she nodded unsteadily. Christopher looked over his shoulder at her.
“You do not have to, sweetheart,” he said softly.
“We need to wrap those ribs, my lord.” Burwell boomed.
Christopher shot the man a withering look. “I have won the joust and will accept what is mine.” His eye caught the horse as it cleared the arena and headed for the outlying area. “Considering the cost of victory, I would say the prince better award me the whole bloody treasury.”
“I shall do it,” Dustin said hoarsely, letting go of David and brushing a wayward strand of hair from her face.
The marshals went to the lists and, after a brief discussion with John and Ralph, waved Dustin and Christopher over.
David and Marcus escorted Dustin up the stairs to the dais as Christopher made his way slowly toward the foot of the platform.
John and Ralph were on their feet, scowling contemptuously at Christopher as he approached.
Dustin watched her husband as he made his way toward the royal box and disengaged himself from Leeton and Dud.
The crowd went mad as he walked the last few feet under his own power and halted, as tall and proud as he could manage, in front of John.
Dustin found herself drawing comfort and strength from the cheers of the people as they showed their respect for the man they called the Lion’s Claw.
Even with his battered body, his spirit soared to conquer the pain. The agony was not readable on face. He was, in every sense of the word, the champion and Defender of the Realm.
Dustin moved beyond her shock and weakness.
Before she realized it, tears were filling her eyes and spilling in hot streams down her cheeks.
She wiped them away, but they kept reappearing and the more she wiped, the faster they seemed to fall.
Marcus saw her quaking and leaned next to her ear to whisper words of encouragement.
She sniffled and nodded quickly in response, stepping forward as a steward ushered her to John’s side.
John was not in the least bit happy. Sir Dennis was fine after his vicious fall, but he had lost the bout nonetheless. The prince eyed Christopher, lifting his hands irritably to silence the screaming crowd.
“It seems that the champion has returned from the quest as skilled as if he had never left,” the prince said with mock sincerity. “He has bested the finest England had to offer and for that, he will be duly rewarded.”
The steward handed Dustin a ribbon made from red brocade, embroidered with gold thread into fantastic patterns.
It was a beautiful ribbon, though hardly worthy of the pain and effort expended for such a tourney.
She accepted it graciously and moved forward when John motioned to her.
The tears were falling faster than ever, dripping off her chin and onto the top of her breasts, and the sobs began to rise as the prince lamely indicated that she pin her husband with the ribbon.
Christopher’s heart was breaking. Dustin was trying so hard to be brave, to award him the prize, but she was quickly crumbling. He took a few stiff steps forward, standing at the very edge of the platform as she stood above him, shaking so badly that she could hardly place the ribbon on him.
“It’s all right, Dustin, my love,” he whispered for her ears only. “Give me the ribbon and be done with it.”
She heard him call her “my love” and she dissolved, the sobs coming forth like great choking sounds.
He wanted desperately to reach up and cradle her against him, but his ribs were screaming with pain and he knew the action was impossible.
He raised his hand and took the ribbon from her, for she was unable to go any further.
With a quick nod to David, the man swept Dustin against him and Marcus moved close on her other side.
They were moving for the stairs when Ralph moved before them, his oily face glazed with humiliation.
He boldly glared at Marcus and David before his black eyes came to rest on Dustin. “Next time, my lady….,” was all he said. It was a challenge and a promise that could have encompassed any number of references.
Dustin’s tears disappeared as she stared back at the sheriff.
Anger and hatred filled her, racing up her spine until she was fairly hot with the stuff.
No longer was she the weakened wife, she yanked herself from David and Marcus and moved to within an inch or so of Ralph’s disgusting face, her lips parting seductively as she looked him up and down, scrutinizing every inch of the hated face.
Ralph found himself quivering at her closeness, wondering if she were going to strike him again, but her face was calm, even passionate. The gray eyes belied nothing as she looked him over and then came to rest on his.
“To hell with you,” she spat so deliberately that there was absolutely no mistaking the meaning.
Ralph actually swayed back as if her words had a physical effect on his person. Without another glance, Dustin stood straight and proud, and preceded David and Marcus from the lists.