Chapter Eight #5
“That’s not what I said!” Edward shouted from the platform, oblivious to the audience they were coming to attract. “I will throw you in the vault for your stubborn defiance, not for the fact that you wish to tend Sir Bose’s head. ’Tis your disobedience I would punish!”
Stephan growled low in his throat, a gesture of disbelief and intolerance. Casting his sister a long, if not somewhat supportive glance, he reined his charger around Bose and toward his weaving, sweating sire.
“Father, I believe it would be acceptable for Summer to tend Sir Bose,” he said quietly yet forcefully, the tone he always used when dealing with his weak-willed father.
“As for her insolence, you must understand she has experienced quite a bit of upheaval since yesterday. I believe we discussed this very same subject this morn and you agreed with me completely.”
Edward’s angry expression faded as he listened to his son’s statement.
Stephan always managed to calm him, convince him all was right within the world.
“And… and I did, of course. But the fact that she demands to be a part of world that will not have her does not excuse her foul manners,” wiping at his dripping brow, he began to appear somewhat uncertain.
“And Sir Bose… Stephan, did you not tell me that the man is a known murderer? I do not understand your change of heart. This morn you were completely unwilling to….”
Stephan put up a hand, silencing his father’s prattle. “I know,” he said quickly, quietly. “But I must confess that I was wrong. Please allow Summer to tend the knight and I shall explain the entire situation after my bout.”
Edward’s face was calm once again, looking somewhat dazed as he diverted his focus from his son’s earnest face to his daughter’s eager expression.
Confused and drunk, he was in no position to repudiate his son.
If Stephan said he was wrong, then Edward would certainly not dispute him.
With a faint nod of his head, he reclaimed his chair without another word.
Summer let out a faint sigh of relief, looking thankfully to her eldest brother. He smiled weakly.
“Get him off the field, Summer,” he said quietly. “My bout is next and I’ll surely run the both of you down.”
The bottom of her persimmon colored gown stained from the damp, dark dirt of the arena, Summer moved toward her brother.
“Please, Stephan,” she said softly, reaching out to touch his armor with her soft hand.
“Does this mean you have changed your mind? Is it acceptable for Sir B-Bose to carry my favor?”
Stephan gazed at his sister, finding he was no longer able to keep his attention from Bose.
Piercing black eyes glimmered with warmth and appreciation and at the moment, Stephan knew there was no need for further words on the subject; Bose understood the depths of a man’s honor and duty when it came to his family and he realized Stephan had acted in the only manner possible given the circumstances.
“Tend his head, sweetheart,” he said, touching her honey-gold hair briefly before lowering his visor. “Send for Genisa if you require assistance.”
With that, he was gone, thundering to the opposite side of the field where the heralds and squires were awaiting his presence.
Summer watched him cross the field, deeply thankful at his apparent change of heart.
More than any other requirement, Stephan’s approval was a necessity to her future happiness.
And that fact that he had come to approve of Bose meant more than she could express.
Tearing her attention away from her brother, she caught a glimpse of Genisa’s triumphant smile from her seat in the lodges.
Edward, drunk and eagerly awaiting his son’s bout, had quickly forgotten about his daughter’s situation and Summer turned away from the scene, her golden gaze coming to rest on the injured, exhausted knight.
“I have needle and thread in my tent, my lady,” Bose said softly, extending his elbow. When Summer latched to him firmly, his smile broadened and they proceeded toward the edge of the field. “I will be the envy of every man here with your fine stitches embedded in my scalp.”
“I promise to make them very small,” she said as they approached the edge of the field. Immediately, she noticed several knights appraising her openly, the very same knights she had viewed the day before in Bose’s camp. “However, I will confess that I have never s-sewn a man’s head before.”
He smiled, experiencing a surge of pride as the men about the field witnessed the Gorgon with a beautiful woman on his arm. “A simple task, truly. You need only remember to take care and not pierce my brain.”
She turned to him, scowling gently. “If I pierce your b-brain, mayhap it will allow a measure of foolish knightly pride to escape. Never again will I see you riding helmless in a joust.”
He laughed loudly, startling Tate and causing his other men to look at him with wide eyes. Never in their lives had they known Bose to laugh aloud like a carefree child. In fact, he felt very much like a carefree youth; powerful enough to challenge the angels, fortunate enough to defy God himself.
“I promise, my lady,” he snickered softly as they cleared the lists. “Never again.”