Chapter Ten
The following day, Sunday to be exact, King Richard’s grand tournament began. This day, the first day of the tilting, was called the Feast of the Challengers. It was to be the prelude to the real tournament. Around three o’clock, a parade through London’s streets marked the start of the entertainment. The Tower of London was the starting point and it would end at Smithfield.
Sixty squires, atop barded coursers ornamented for the tournament, were the beginning of the parade. Behind them, sixty ladies of rank rode on palfreys. Each one led a knight, fully armored, by a silver chain. A number of minstrels followed in their wake. The whole group wound its way through the streets down Cheapside to the large square in Smithfield.
Neither Jacqueline nor Terric took part in the parade. They chose to watch from the sidelines. Beth and Edwin joined them. Already at Smithfield, they only saw the procession as it ended.
Jacqueline found herself in awe of those who participated, as the rest of the spectators appeared to be. The elegance of the richly dressed ladies and beautifully barded horses took her breath away. She had never seen anything of the like before. As each of the sixty ladies and knights entered the square, she noticed some wore matching livery.
Curious, she asked Terric, “Why do some have livery and others not?”
Terric took a closer look. “They must be the lords and ladies of the Garter. It is the king’s livery they wear. I have seen it before.”
As one of the ladies rode close by them, Jacqueline caught a better view of the badge she wore upon her gown. The king’s livery was a hart with a golden crown that hung low on its body. It also wore a golden chain that encircled its neck. The livery appeared to be worn on coats, armor, shields, and even on the horses’ trappings.
Once all the ladies had arrived in the square, their servants rushed to assist them in dismounting from their palfreys. They were then led away. The knights remained in the square, awaiting their squires who had also dismounted and were now leading their coursers to them.
After much discussion that morning, Terric convinced Jacqueline not to compete in this day’s event. His reasoning behind it was her father would not be participating so why risk injury—one that could prevent her from joining in the jousting the following day. Reluctantly, she had agreed.
Now that the knights were ready to begin, Terric, Jacqueline, Beth, and Edwin slowly walked to the bleachers that had been erected specifically for the tournament. Since they were not the only spectators headed in that direction, it took much pushing and elbowing, mostly on Edwin’s part, to obtain prime seating closest to the list.
As each knight thundered down it to meet his opponents with a resounding crash, Terric pointed out each weakness they had to Jacqueline. She had to admit there was an advantage in just watching, after all. With his help, she would be better prepared to face her adversaries on the morrow.
Just like the evening before, Jacqueline felt eyes watching her now that the competition had begun. It gave her an eerie feeling, being stared at so intently. It felt as if someone physically touched her. As casually as possible, she searched the bleachers, hoping to see whose attention she had gained.
Her gaze fell on the part of the bleachers where the king and queen sat, and she found her father sitting very close to the royal couple. It was he who stared at her. This time, his expression made her quickly jerk back around. His face was full of malice, almost as if he hated her. Almost as if he knew it was she and not William watching the tilting.
Leaning close, Terric whispered, “What is wrong? You are so tense I could bounce a pebble off you.”
Speaking from the side of her mouth, Jacqueline replied, “My father. He is sitting near the king.” Terric moved to turn and look back at the earl. She kicked his ankle. “Do not look at him. He is watching me.”
Terric reached down to rub his abused ankle, but did as she had ordered. “All right, I will not turn to look. You could have found a less painful way to get my attention, you know.”
The crowd roared as another pair of knights rushed toward each other. Using the noise to her advantage, Jacqueline spoke more loudly. “You will get over it. I have bigger problems than worrying about hurting your feelings. For some reason, I have earned my father’s ire. He does not look at all pleased with me.”
“I suggest when the tilting is through, you return to your pavilion. You and Beth.”
“I agree. It will not be much longer. The day already grows late.”
Once it became too dark to see, the tilting would cease. The next hour stretched Jacqueline’s nerves tighter and tighter. When at last darkness fell and the tilting was drawn to a close, she was up on her feet, leading Beth away. There was to be another feast this night at the bishop of London’s palace near St. Paul’s church, but she felt it prudent not to attend. Her father would definitely be present. The king and queen were lodged at the bishop’s palace, and he would not want to miss any opportunity to gain their favor.
* * * *
Jacqueline stood at the entrance to her pavilion and looked at the bright, twinkling stars that studded the sky. She took a deep breath, then sighed. Her nerves were getting the better of her. On the morrow, she could very well be meeting her father in the list, but sleep was the furthest thing from her mind.
She glanced behind her. Beth was asleep on her cot. At least one of them would be well-rested.
Sighing again, she pulled the pavilion’s flap closed once more. There was no help for it. She might as well accept that sleep would not come easily for her. Since she was going to be up half the night, she only wished she could spend it with Terric.
He had gone to the feast at the Bishop’s palace. He had offered to stay with her and Beth, but she could not begrudge him that. He so enjoyed them. There was really no reason for him to be absent from it.
She crawled back onto her cot and tried to sleep once again.
* * * *
The hall at the Bishop’s place was jammed packed full of people. Terric barely had enough room to comfortably eat his meal. As if he needed a reminder of the cramped conditions, the person next to him elbowed him in the ribs.
Terric rubbed the area that had taken the hit and turned his attention to the upper table. Jacqueline’s mother and father were numbered among the exalted company who sat there. The earl, as was his want, tried to ingratiate himself to the king. Lady Elizabeth, taking advantage of her husband’s inattention, seemed more relaxed. She even conversed with the young queen from time to time.
After all had eaten their fill, the food was cleared away and the dancing began. It was during that time Lady Elizabeth caught his attention with a slight nod. She stepped out of the hall. Figuring she wished him to follow, Terric waited a few minutes, then headed from the hall as well.
She stood just outside the doors, waiting. “I do not have much time. The earl is ever watchful of me. Why, I have no idea.”
Terric took hold of Lady Elizabeth’s elbow and led her farther away from the hall doors. “How have you been treated?”
She waved his concern away. “With all the courtesy due me. My husband would never mistreat me in that way, most especially here. He would not want his name besmirched. Enough about me. How are they?”
Terric knew who she referred to. “They are fine.” After quickly making sure no one was nearby, he continued. “Jacqueline is a bit nervous, which is to be expected.”
“Aye, it is. I must return before the earl misses me and comes looking. Just promise to watch out for her on the morrow. I will be in the stands.”
Bowing, Terric nodded. “I will.”
“I wish you luck in the tournament as well, Sir Terric.” Lady Elizabeth returned to the hall.
* * * *
“You missed a splendid feast last night, Jacqueline. You and Beth would have enjoyed it.”
“It seems as if you enjoyed yourself, anyway.”
Terric lounged in one of her camp chairs, lazily sipping wine from a goblet. Even though he tried to hide the smile he wore by holding the rim of it against his lips, Jacqueline still saw the mirth lurking in his violet eyes. She scowled at him.
Seeing the look she gave him, he said, “Are you worried I met another woman to while away my night?”
“Should I be?”
“Nay, I was true to you, but that did not stop them from seeking my attention. Poor Edwin had to sacrifice himself by offering his meager services.”
Jacqueline laughed. “I am sure he groveled at their feet, more like.”
“That is better. I made you laugh. Even if it was at poor Edwin’s expense.”
“Aye, you did. Now tell me what else happened at the feast. Besides you being swarmed by almost every female who attended.”
“Fine, I will tell you since you insist. During the feast, they announced the winners of the tilting. The French count, Count de Saint Pol, was named the best knight of the tournament. The Earl of Huntingdon for the tenants. There was a last minute arrival as well.”
“Who?”
“Count d’Ostrevant, William de Hainault, King Richard’s cousin. He brought a large group of knights and squires with him. So there will be more competitors in today’s tilting.”
“I have no interest in the count. My main concern is my father.”
Terric sat straighter. “Did you submit your challenge to him?”
Sighing, Jacqueline nodded. “I did. I have yet to hear if he has accepted it or not.”
As if on cue, someone scratched on the other side of the pavilion flap. After opening it, Jacqueline found her father’s squire standing there. He sketched a quick bow, then passed her the missive he held before leaving. Her hand shook as she broke her father’s seal and read what was written on the parchment.
Terric came to stand behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “What does it say?”
She had to clear her throat before she answered. If she had not, her voice would have come out in a croak. “He has accepted my challenge.”
“Congratulations, you now will be able to accomplish what you have worked so hard for.”
Jacqueline nodded, unable to force a word past her lips. Terric was right. She finally got what she had striven so hard for, but instead of being elated, an overwhelming sense of sadness washed over her. The longer she looked at her father’s missive, the more intense the feeling became. Soon the words blurred. Once a tear fell onto the parchment, smearing the ink, she could no longer hold back her sorrow. As her gut-wrenching sobs began, Terric turned her so she faced him. He wrapped her tightly in his embrace.
Gradually, Jacqueline’s sobs eased. She hiccupped a few times and then fell silent. Terric loosened his embrace and placed a hand under her chin, tilting her head up. Her eyes had to be red and swollen from crying, but she felt more at peace. He brushed a gentle kiss upon her lips.
“Do you feel better?”
She nodded, and said hoarsely, “Aye.”
“Now you can face your father with a clear mind.”
She stepped back and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her tunic. He was correct. Now, having released her pent-up sorrow, she felt remarkably calm.
She pulled herself up straighter. “I am ready to go against the earl now. Nothing will stop me.”
* * * *
That afternoon the tournament truly began. King Richard entered Smithfield accompanied by dukes, lords, and knights. The king was to be the Chief of the Tenants of the list. Count d’Ostrevant arrived next, along with a large company of knights and squires, fully armed for the tilting. Count de Saint Pol, accompanied by the knights from France, followed.
Jacqueline sat in her pavilion, waiting for her turn in the list, when she heard the roar of the crowd. They equally cheered or booed, depending on which opponent they favored. There was no mistaking the sound of a knight being unhorsed. The resulting crash of armor impacting with solid ground was resounding.
Surprisingly, she still retained the calmness she had gained earlier. Even when Edwin came to help finish arming her, she felt no nervousness, no second thoughts. As the squire led her to the list, she felt as if she walked in a dream world. The people around her seemed move in slow motion, as if they were submerged in a heavy substance, which limited their movements. Even their voices were muffled.
Once she arrived at the list, the roar of the crowd fell away to nothingness. Her whole being focused on the knight at the opposite end. He held a shield, which bore the same coat of arms as hers—the Montacute’s.
Jacqueline grasped the lance Edwin held out to her and placed it at the ready. Knowing what was to come, her steed stamped impatiently. The signal given, she set her courser into motion. Before her full attention was taken over by what she was doing, she silently said, For William. I do this for you.
Her steed reached a full gallop, and she flew down the list just as her father did. She braced herself and hit the earl’s shield with her lance. It splintered into a thousand pieces. Her father’s hit her shield with enough force to jar her almost out of her saddle, but she tenaciously held on. His lance also shattered on impact.
The second pass, Jacqueline’s only skidded across the earl’s shield, giving him the point. His lance hit her shield dead center, once again shattering.
She returned to her end of the list, accepted a new lance from Edwin and prepared for the final run. Her father was good, very good. After the two passes, she came to the conclusion she would not be able to unhorse him. She would be proving herself just by trying to keep her seat with each run.
She waited for the signal as she looked down the list at her father. She could not see his face with his helm on, but he must have noticed she watched him. He tipped his lance down in a salute. Jacqueline returned it in kind.
Once the signal was given for the final pass, their steeds barreled down the list at top speed. They met with a crash. Jacqueline felt the impact through her whole body. With both lances shattered, it marked the end of the jousting between her and her father. She turned around for the last time and passed the earl as he headed to his squire.
A moment before he passed her, he stopped. “Well done, William. I see your skill has improved since we last met in the list.”
Jacqueline made her voice as deep as she could make it. “Thank you, Father. I have been training for this day.”
“I must say your ability is better than I expected. We will speak later.” He kicked his heels into his steed’s flanks, leaving her to continue to the waiting Edwin.
Beth and Terric were at her pavilion, waiting for her return. Once she stepped through the entrance, they enthusiastically greeted her. Beth welcomed her first. “Oh, Jacqueline, you were spectacular. William would have been so proud of you.” She seemed to be crying and smiling at the same time.
Almost frantically, Jacqueline unlaced and then ripped off her helm. She took in great gulps of air once she was free of it. She looked at Terric and Beth. “He knows.”
“Who knows?” It was Terric who had spoken.
“My father.”
Beth gasped. “How could he?”
Jacqueline wiped the sweat from her brow, then shook her head. “I know not. All I do know for certain is he has seen through me.”
Terric pulled her closer and unbuckled her armor. “What makes you think he knows? You and Beth have been careful not to be too close to your father.”
She still felt the chill that had run down her back when the earl had spoken to her. “He talked to me after the final run. He said I surprised him.”
“Jacqueline, that does not mean he knows. He could have just been surprised by your skill. Nothing more.”
She shook her head once more. “Nay, Terric, you are wrong. He knows. He said we would speak again later. Nothing good can come of that.”
Having divested Jacqueline of her armor as they had spoken, Terric rubbed her back. “Do not fret. I am sure it is nothing. Who knows, he might not even send for you.”
She leaned against Terric’s comforting warmth as a shudder ran through her. “I wish I could be so positive, but I cannot. The earl will not so easily forget. He knows.”
* * * *
The earl roughly shoved his helm into his young squire’s hands. He stepped into the shaded confines of his pavilion. After being divested of his armor, he impatiently waved his squire away. Left alone, he picked up the goblet of wine placed on the table for him.
He sat on one of the camp chairs and slowly sipped his drink. His brows furrowed in irritation as he replayed his meeting with his son in the list. It seemed William’s skill had improved vastly. What bothered him the most was how quickly his son had recovered from his injury. The intervening months since their last meeting William should have spent healing, not improving his skill in handling a lance. William’s armor seemed to be a smaller fit as well, though that could be easily explained. Being injured, William could have lost some weight.
He had thought of another explanation as well for all the changes in William, but he found it too ludicrous. The girl was dead and buried. Besides, no female would dare what he thought.
As his wife entered the pavilion, the earl broke off his musings about his son. Now would be the perfect opportunity to have her answer a few pointed questions in regards to William. He motioned for her to sit on the other camp chair across from him, then stared intently at her. Under his close scrutiny, she eventually lowered her head to look at her clasped hands on her lap. The earl smiled. He did enjoy seeing her cowed.
“Tell me about William. Did he recover from his injury without any complications?”
His wife kept her eyes downcast and squeezed her hands together so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Nay, there were no problems, though it was months before he regained his strength fully.”
The earl nodded. “I noticed he has bettered his skill in the list.”
“William has trained hard for this day,” she replied dryly.
“Raise your head when you speak to me, woman,” the earl snapped. “Why would our son train so hard, especially after receiving a grievous injury just to meet me here in the list?”
His wife lifted her head to look at him. “He only wished to please you. William wanted you to be proud of him. So when he recovered, he dedicated himself to improving his abilities.”
Not wanting to pursue the topic any further, the earl stood. It was obvious his wife would only say what she thought he wanted to hear. “You may leave me now.” Without a word, she got up and left his pavilion.