Chapter Nine #2
Taking the hilt of the sword, Rowan stood and pulled the point out of the ground in one smooth motion. Then he held the sword in the air as the crowd cheered. The squire holding Dragon’s reins moved forward, guiding the horse to the throne.
Today was a special day for Dragon as well. A knight’s horse was often also recognized during the ceremony. However, it would be Rowan who dubbed him. This was fortunate, because if anyone else had brought the point of a sword near Dragon’s head, he would probably have gotten bit.
Afterward, Rowan turned back to the throne and handed his father the sword.
The last part of the ceremony was the dressing, in which a squire brought Rowan his helmet, sword, and shield.
Nick had a sword made for Rowan that matched his own, with the same family crest that had been used for the past four generations.
Rowan pulled the belt and sword around his waist. Then he slid the helmet down over his head, took the shield, and walked back to the throne. There, he knelt once more, before his queen. The crowd erupted again and for the first time all day, he looked up and made eye contact with Bree.
The crowd began to disperse, seeing as the excitement was now over, but Bree barely noticed.
Even though she was happy for Rowan, she wasn’t sure if she should smile or what to say.
As many times as she had imagined this moment for the past several months, she hadn’t expected it to be this awkward.
Rowan stood and removed his helmet, but his gaze stayed on her.
“Where did everyone go?” Bree mumbled to herself, realizing that Finn, her mother, and Sarita had all stepped away the moment that the ceremony was over, leaving her alone with Rowan.
“I suspect they were hoping to avoid this conversation,” Rowan replied, flatly. Cicilly and Nick may not have known what Bree and Rowan were at odds over, but they apparently did know not to interfere.
“Rowan, I’m so sorry—”
“No, don’t apologize. We both seem to be doing a lot of apologizing to each other. Mostly for things we can’t even control and probably couldn’t have, even then. And let’s face it, neither of us is particularly good at apologies.”
Bree smiled for the first time since opening her eyes that morning. “No, you’re right. It’s a skill that neither one of us seem to possess.”
“I realize that you didn’t have any more of a choice about what happened than I did. I know how hard it is for me to look at her and know, so I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for you, every day, from the beginning.”
“I know you told me not to apologize but I am sorry for keeping it from you. I guess it was just easier to keep pretending. That’s what I’ve been doing for seven years already.”
As if on cue, Sarita wandered over, with a small box in her hands. She opened it up for Rowan to see.
“What do you have there?” he asked, trying to act as natural as possible.
“Peanut brittle. Want some?”
“Sure,” he said, taking a small piece. “It’s my favorite.”
“It’s my favorite too.”
Rowan stopped chewing and glanced up at Bree, who forced a small smile. This was going to be harder than he thought.
~*~
Immediately after the knighting ceremony, the second half of the tournament began.
The first event was the pageant, in which the competing squires would parade around the battlefield in their armor and displaying their crest, if they had one.
Crests were either that of their family if they were of noble blood or the crest of the knight that they served, if they were not.
“I like the one in blue and white,” Celeste said, leaning toward Bree.
“I’m more partial to the red and green one, myself,” Bree said. “Matches my hair and gown.”
“Oh, I could care less about the colors. I mean the man. Just look at those broad shoulders. I bet he is quite handsome.”
“Just because he has broad shoulders?” Bree laughed.
“Well, that and the way he walks. Such confidence!” Celeste fanned herself with her hand. “What day is the damsel challenge?”
“Day after next, I believe.”
“Any chance that I can be his damsel?”
“No, sorry.” Bree laughed at her aunt though she wasn’t sure if Celeste was joking or not. “We stopped using real women as the damsels after one got dropped off a horse and nearly trampled. Do you remember that, Mother?”
“I do remember.” Cicilly replied, sitting on the other side of her daughter. “Frederick was mortified. We started using straw-stuffed dummies after that. There sure are a lot of them competing this year. How many are there?”
“I don’t remember,” Bree replied, then she turned her head up to ask Nick, who was positioned behind her. “How many are there, Sir Nicholas?” She had to remind herself to use his formal title in public. She had already grown accustomed to calling him by just his name.
“We have twenty-three this year, Your Majesty.”
“How can there be that many?”
“Well, Sir Luthias has two entries, as well as Sir Tomas. Also, we allow senior members of the guard and military to compete. Sometimes we get stray entries also. It’s a tradition that your father started, actually. It keeps the competition interesting. Most won’t last long, though.”
They understood exactly what Nick meant when after the second day, the field of competitors had been cut in half.
First was the melee event, in which the competitors were put into teams and participated in a trial battle.
There were two teams and all men fought on horseback with the weapon of their choice.
The goal was to knock all of the opposing team members off their horses.
The team with the last man still astride his horse was the winner and moved on.
The next day was the damsel event that Celeste was most excited to see, in which a stuffed damsel was placed at the end of a long course, hanging over a pit that Dagan had enchanted to look like fire.
Each contender had to make it through the course on foot, mount their steed, and rescue their damsel.
Per Sarita’s suggestion, sheer veils were added to the dummies heads to make them look more like real women.
The first eight men who completed this challenge proceeded to the fourth day.
Bree was happy to see that both her and Celeste’s chosen fighters had made it this far.
However, Bree’s pick ended up losing in the jousting event on the fifth day, bringing the remaining number of challengers down to four.
On the sixth day, there were no contests. Instead, a giant feast was held on the battlefield to celebrate the tournament. Bree was surprised to see that Celeste’s choice contender wasn’t present at the feast. However, he was there the next day, for the final battle: close combat.
The four challengers were about to fight each other for the prize of knighthood.
There was a great deal of excitement in the crowd.
When the trumpet blared to signal the start, a hush fell on the people as they watched.
All four men started slowly moving toward the center of the field.
The man in purple was the first to strike out, barely missing the man in black.
The other two paired off, the man in green and the favorited man in blue.
It took no time at all for the man in black to knock the man in purple down to the ground and deal the fatal blow, which was met with cheering from the crowd.
Of course, they were using blunted swords, so no real harm came to the fallen competitor, other than the shame of being put out of the battle so early.
Then there were three. This added quite a bit of excitement as they each had to fend off two contenders at the same time.
The man in green raised his sword to the man in black but the man in blue saw an opportunity.
He quickly spun his sword around and hit the man in green in the back with the hilt while sweeping his foot out to knock the man down.
Immediately after he hit the ground, the man in blue had him pinned. Again, the people cheered.
“That was impressive,” Bree heard Rowan say. She was so mesmerized by the entire battle that she didn’t notice he had arrived. He was standing against the wooden pole of her shade tent, watching the fight from several feet away.
Movement on the field caught her attention again.
The man in blue had little time to catch his breath before the man in black attacked.
Their swords met in the air. Metal clanking on metal, they fought each other while moving in a circular pattern.
Around and around they went. Just when one would seem to be worn down, and their failure imminent, they would find the strength to continue.
The crowd was very involved at this point, cheering or booing when the moment struck.
“It’s a good match of strength,” Nick said, from behind her.
“It is certainly a longer battle than I can remember seeing in the past,” Cicilly complained.
“Oh, Cici,” Celeste said, leaning forward in her seat, “don’t be a bore. This is exciting!”
“Sir Nicholas?” Bree turned her head to the side so Nick could hear her. “Who are these men? I don’t recognize either of them.”
“The one in black was Sir Colbert’s squire. He now trains under Sir Evan. The other one, I’m not sure of. He may be a member of the guard. Sir Raymun has the official registration.”
“Perhaps, you should knight them both and put an end to it,” Cicilly mumbled, smacking an insect off of her arm.
“Perhaps…” Bree said, but she didn’t take her eyes off the competitors.
Suddenly, the man in black charged as the man in blue seemed to be catching his breath.
At the very last moment, the man in blue lifted his sword and spun around in a complete circle, using the force to hit his competition square in the chest plate and knock him onto his back.
The man in black tried to roll out of the way of a second swing, but his rival’s sword hit the side of his helmet.
Finally, the battle was over.