CHAPTER NINE
By the time the tournament festivities began around mid-day, the breeze had picked up and the standards surrounding the field were snapping briskly. Fat, puffy clouds danced across the blue expanse of sky, carrying with them the threat of rain as they passed. In the tournament arena below, the perimeter of the competition area was packed with spectators.
The lists containing the crowd were small and hastily constructed, and they were already full of people. There was a section for the Earl of Carlisle’s family, now full of Toby and her five children – Roman, daughter Catherine, the rambunctious twins Dylan and Alex, and baby Sophie. There was also a seat for Tate but since he was competing, Saer sat upon it and laughed at the antics of his cousin’s children. The rough boys were busy playing knights, pushing each other down, and adding to the fun. Watching the rough twins roll their older brother was great entertainment.
Cathlina, Roxane, Abechail, and Rosalund had a rough bench to sit on but it was enough. They had a great view of the field. At their feet on the rough-boarded floor was a linen cloth spread out containing a small table with food upon it. There was an abundance of fruit, bread, cheese, plus little puddings in wooden cups that were made from mint and lemon and honey.
There was also something that they had never seen before, something that the young de Lara children scooped up out of a earthenware bowl and shoved gleefully into their mouths. Upon tasting the dish, Cathlina and Abechail were told it was called pastos, a dish consisting of long, cooked sheets of wheat and eggs, all mixed up in a sauce that consisted of cheese, milk, nutmeg, and a few other ingredients. It was creamy and delicious. It was a dish that Tate and Toby had collected on their travels to Italy years go and the de Lara children ate it quite regularly.
As the earl’s young children and Abechail sat on the floor of the lists and ate, Cathlina and Roxane were more interested in the knights that were now starting to take the field for practice. The first series of games would be the joust and a big wooden guide had been built in the center of the arena to keep opponents from crashing into each other as they made their charge. Even now, workmen were finishing with the reinforcement of the guides as the field marshals kept close watch on both the workmen and the knights that were thundering around the field.
It was beginning to get exciting. Saer came off of his seat and stood at the railing with Cathlina and Roxane, watching the knights take the field astride their massive war horses. Saer had allowed Dunstan and Beauson to enter the competition to represent Kirklinton Castle, and they entered the field fairly early clad in the colors of the house of Saer de Lara. Their tunics bore a big yellow axe right on the chest.
“Papa, are you disappointed that you are not competing?” Cathlina asked as a big knight in a green and black tunic blew past.
Saer watched the knight, too, scrutinizing him. “I am not,” he said flatly. “Although tournaments were great sport when I was young, I am afraid it is indeed a younger man’s sport. If I were to compete today, I would be easily defeated.”
“Did you win many tournaments?” Roxane wanted to know.
Saer’s attention was on the Earl of Carlisle now making an appearance on the field, a big man on a black and white charger bearing a tunic of crimson and gold. Toby and her oldest son, a handsome and well behaved lad named Roman, began to yell and wave at the earl. Tate thundered onto the field and the crowd, seeing that the earl had arrived, began to cry for him as well. Behind Tate came another knight bearing the earl’s colors astride a muscular dappled gray charger. When the two of them thundered out into the arena, the energy level of the crowd surged.
“Who is the other knight bearing the earl’s colors?” Roxane asked, squinting at the distant figure.
Saer was squinting, too. “I believe it is St. Héver,” he said, then cast his daughter a long glance. “You will not make a nuisance of yourself with him, do you hear? The man is not interested in marriage.”
Roxane’s lip stuck out in a pout as she turned away from her father, trying very hard not to watch every move St. Héver made as he deftly controlled his horse on the other side of the arena.
“I was not going to,” she sniffed, offended. “I simply wanted to know who it was, ’tis all.”
Saer cocked an eyebrow as if he didn’t believe her, returning his attention to the knights that were now starting to circle the arena, warming up their chargers. Cathlina glanced at her sister, trying not to make eye contact because she was sure her sister was already upset about the fact St. Héver was here and Cathlina didn’t want to confess that she had seen the man earlier. It would only inflame Roxane. As the chargers rushed past, kicking up clods of earth, she sought to change the subject.
“There are quite a lot of knights here,” she said to her father. “How many do you think there are?”
Saer watched de Lara blow by him, followed by St. Héver. “At least thirty or forty men,” he said. “They have already drawn lots to see who will compete against each other. See that wall on the opposite side of the arena? They will hang banners there so we will know who is competing against whom.”
“Papa?” Abechail wedged herself in between Roxane and Saer, tugging on her father’s sleeve. “Papa, there is a vendor selling candied fruits. I saw a girl with some. Can I please have some?”
Saer didn’t want to leave now that the knights were warming up, but he couldn’t very well let Abechail go by herself and he certainly couldn’t deny her. Hurriedly, he grabbed her hand and very nearly pulled her off the lists. Young Roman was invited to go along as Saer and the two children went in search of sweets. Cathlina and Roxane didn’t much care, fixed on the knights as they were.
As they were watching Tate and Kenneth make practice runs along the guide, a knight on an enormous bay stallion entered the field. Bearing a tunic of straight yellow without any of the elaborate embroidery the other knights had, he was a massive man in heavy protection as he thundered across the arena, struggling with his disobedient horse. The charger was very young and very excitable, and it was difficult not to notice the pair as the charger kicked up his white feet and generally behaved badly. He was so beautiful, however, that the struggle between man and beast became mesmerizing to watch.
Cathlina’s attention was divided between Tate, Kenneth, and the new knight with the wild horse. Soon enough, she was only watching the knight with the excitable horse, as was nearly everyone else around her, because the pair was making practice runs along the guide. When they made a run past another horse, the excitable bay tried to savage the other charger and the field marshals were called in. It was one thing for the big chargers to savage each other in battle but quite another to have it happen in a tournament.
“Mayhap they will not let him compete,” Roxane said to her sister, pointing at the knight with the agitated horse in the middle of the arena as he spoke with two of the field marshals. “That horse is very mean.”
Cathlina shrugged. “They are all very mean,” she said, indicating a knight off to their left whose horse was muzzled with a great steel cage. “Look at that horse. They have to put a barrier around his mouth.”
They were both watching the knight with the muzzled horse when two big chargers suddenly roared up beside them. Dirt flew up, hitting Roxane in her greased-up hair, and she shrieked. Cathlina found herself carefully picking the dirt out of her sister’s hair as Tate and Kenneth lifted their visors.
“My lady,” Tate said to his wife, who was rising from her seat to greet him. “Do you have a favor for me to carry before this great and terrible production begins?”
Toby grinned her lovely white smile, fumbling around in her long sleeve before pulling free a small white kerchief. As she went to hand it to him, the twins decided they wanted to ride with their father and started climbing up on the railing to get at him. Cathlina and Toby pulled the boys down as they demanded to go with their father. As Toby admonished the twins on their behavior, her beautiful five year old daughter, Catherine, calmly went to her father and extended a little posy she had picked that morning on the way to the arena. Tate took it from the little girl as if it were the finest treasure.
“Thank you, Cate,” he said, smiling at her. “This is the best favor I have ever received.”
As the little girl beamed, Kenneth put in. “And there is no favor for me?” he asked her. “I am deeply hurt, Catie. I thought you loved me best.”
Cate giggled as Roxane spoke up. “You may have my favor, Sir Kenneth,” she said, pulling forth an elaborate and heady-smelling piece of silk from her bosom. She held it out to him, feigning shyness and batting her eyelashes. “I would be honored if you would carry it.”
Fortunately, Kenneth was adept at keeping an emotionless façade. His first instinct was to recoil and run away, but he fought it. He faced Roxane’s offensive bravely.
“I am honored, Lady Roxane,” he said, although he didn’t mean a word of it. “But you must not feel pity for me. There are dozens of young knights here that would be very proud to wear your favor. Surely you do not want to give it to an old knight like me.”
Roxane was flattered and offended at the same time. She looked around at the other competitors, rather uncertainly, until Cathlina came to her rescue.
“She does not know any of the other competitors, Sir Kenneth,” she said. “Since you do not have a favored young lady today, my sister honors you with her offer. She will cheer you louder than anyone.”
Roxane was back to her false modesty pose as Kenneth began to sweat. But he knew he couldn’t get out of it so he simply nodded.
“I am humbled, my lady,” he said without a hint of defeat in his voice.
Roxane smiled brightly as she extended the kerchief. Kenneth took it and, with a smell that nearly knocked him off his horse, quickly tucked it into his armor and tried to get it as far away from his nose as he could. With a stiff bob of the head, he slammed his faceplate down and thundered off. Roxane watched him wistfully.
“Mayhap Father should ask him again if he is agreeable to a betrothal,” she whispered to Cathlina. “He seemed very pleased by my favor, don’t you think?”
Cathlina wasn’t so sure but she nodded anyway. “I do,” she said. “He is very handsome. You would make a fine match with him.”
Her heart full of admiration for Sir Kenneth, Roxane moved away from the rail to regain her seat as Cathlina remained, watching the knights as they finished warming their horses and, one by one, began leaving the field. She noticed that Tate was still lingering at the rail, holding his wife’s hand sweetly and kissing her fingers as they murmured soft words between them. She noticed how much in love they were, a love that most women wanted but seldom achieved. Love, like the kind her cousin shared with his wife, was very rare. Her heart tugged a bit for want of that kind of love. She wondered if she’d ever be fortunate enough to have it.
Tate kissed his wife one last time and lowered his face plate, charging off in the same direction Kenneth had taken. Cathlina continued to linger by the rail, watching the knights, her mind wandering to Mathias and wondering if she should try and slip away to see him now that her father was occupied. Her mother kept close watch of her, however, and she casually turned around to see that her mother and Roxane were in intense conversation. No doubt plotting on how to wrest a betrothal out of Sir Kenneth, Cathlina thought wryly. She thought the man had looked rather stricken when he had been forced to take Roxane’s favor because he was no-doubt fearful of what that would lead to. Fighting off a smile at the memory, she was caught off-guard when the knight on the wild bay charger suddenly pulled up to the railing.
“My lady,” he said in his glorious deep voice. “Are you spoken for?”
Cathlina was prepared to ignore the bold knight and turn her back to him when something in his voice made her stop. There was something strangely familiar about it and she looked at him, cocking her head in an increasingly inquisitive manner. She had heard those words before, earlier in the day, in the same soft and deep timbre. Could it be…?
“I asked you a question, my lady,” he said, his voice considerably quieter. “Are you spoken for?”
A light of recognition went on in Cathlina’s head. She could hardly believe it. “That depends,” she said quietly, leaning forward on the rail to gain a better look at him. “Are you asking for yourself, perchance?”
“I am.”
“Let me see your face.”
The knight reined his foaming charger as close as he could, turning sideways so he was closer to the railing and closer to Cathlina. His visor was still lowered on his fearsome helm but she knew he was looking at her. The corners of her mouth twitched.
“Open the visor,” she said softly, eyes glimmering with the mirth and surprise of the situation. “Let me see if I recognize your eyes.”
“Will you give me your favor if you do?”
Her smile broke through. “I will do it quite happily.”
The visor flipped up and Mathias’ dark green eyes were twinkling back at her. “Do you know me?” he whispered.
Cathlina nodded. “I do indeed.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “I am glad.”
Cathlina eyed him, glancing around to make sure they weren’t being watched. “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying not to be overheard. “I heard my cousin tell you not to compete. He said men would try to kill you because of your association with… well, you know.”
“He did not give me a direct order not to compete,” Mathias replied carefully. “Moreover, no one will know who I am. My name is Chanson de Lovern. For the duration of the tournament, that is who you will address me as.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion. “De Lovern?” she repeated. “Who is that?”
“It is me.”
“Does Cousin Tate know what you are doing?”
“He does not, so I would appreciate it if you would keep this between us. No one knows.”
She still appeared bewildered but didn’t question him further. But she did want to know one thing.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly. “Why would you risk yourself so?”
He wrestled with the horse when it threw its head, waiting until it settled down before returning his attention to her.
“Because there is a young lady who has made me think that mayhap there is more to life than scratching out a living as a smithy,” he said quietly, his gaze riveted to her. “I am doing this because she is not yet spoken for and I am hoping that if I win this event, it will restore some of my honor and she will agree to let me court her.”
This time, Cathlina knew he was speaking of her. She couldn’t help the grin on her lips or the flush of her cheeks. She wore the simple but delicious surcoat of pale blue and the white linen shawl around her neck and shoulders. The shawl was the only thing she had that she could give the man so she pulled it off of her shoulders and wadded it up, extending the ball to him. As Mathias took it, she spoke.
“I would have agreed to let you court me if you had only and truly been a simple smithy,” she admitted. “You do not need to prove your might in order for me to take notice. I took notice of you the day we met.”
He had the balled-up shawl in one big hand, gazing at her with more emotion than he could ever recall when it came to a woman. His chest was warm and tight, his heart fluttery. It was the oddest sensation but wholly wonderful. He had to fight the urge to dismount the horse and take her in his arms, for never in his life had he wanted to hold a woman so badly. His entire body fairly ached with desire. Bringing the shawl to his nose, he inhaled deeply the scent of roses. A common enough scent but one that was as sweet and beautiful as she was.
“When men ask you if you are spoken for, what will you tell them?” he asked, his words muffled by the shawl.
She lifted an eyebrow. “I am not sure,” she said. “Until you ask if you can court me, I suppose I am still unspoken for. You have not asked at all.”
“May I court you, my lady?”
He said it without hesitation and she laughed. “I was hoping you would.”
Mathias suddenly slapped his faceplate down. At the same time, Cathlina felt a body next to her and she turned to see Roxane standing at her left hand, curiously looking at Mathias who, by now, was thundering back across the arena.
“Who was that?” Roxane wanted to know.
Cathlina sighed. “A very nice knight by the name of de Lovern,” she said. “He asked for my favor. Since you have already given yours away, I saw no harm in giving mine to him. What do you care, anyway? You have the mighty St. Héver at your feet.”
Predictably thrown off the subject of de Lovern and onto St. Héver, Roxane smiled happily and took her sister’s arm as they regained their seats. The field marshals were clearing the arena in preparation for the first bout and spectators were settling in for a thrilling day. The excitement in the air was palpable as the horns began to sound, announcing the countdown to the first round.
This day, of all days, would be memorable.