My Victorious Knight

by O'Donnell, Laurel

  Lord Yves lifted both arms and shouted, “Go find your champion!”

  A deafening chorus of applause and cheers erupted. Trumpets sounded, and the nobles around her spoke to each other in enthusiastic tones.

  She swiveled her stare to the surrounding lords and ladies dressed in their most beautiful, expensive dresses. The ladies wore silk that shimmered in the sun as they fanned themselves. The men were adorned in surcoats with precious gems and pearls sewn into them.

  As the Grand Marshall, a hefty man who looked as if he would crush the poor horse beneath him, took the field and announced the rules of the tourney, Elora’s stare again moved over the crowd. There were so many people! It truly was exciting!

  “Good day, Lady Elora,” a voice greeted.

  Elora turned to see Lady Bethany of Sudbury. Her brown long braids hung down on either side of her head. Rumor had it she didn’t think her hair was long enough and had purchased a dead woman’s hair to add to her own. She wore a red bliaut with flaring sleeves.

  Dread welled up inside of Elora. She had never been friends with Bethany, but she placed a sociable grin on her lips. “Good day, Lady Bethany.”

  Behind Bethany, two other ladies greeted Elora: Lady Jennifer and Lady Lynda. They were like a pack of animals, always seen together, always sitting near each other, always gossiping. They were all friends supposedly, but Elora knew they would betray each other quickly if the rewards were great enough. She nodded a greeting to the others.

  “It is a beautiful day, and the knights are truly glorious,” Lady Bethany said.

  Elora agreed. “Quite.” She knew why they had chosen to be kind to her this day. It was because of Edward. As a single wealthy knight, the ladies were eyeing him as a future husband. If they could become friends with her, they might be able to get closer to Edward. They invariably had ulterior motives.

  “I saw your brother,” Bethany said, looking at the field. “He is magnificent.”

  “Splendid,” Lynda added.

  “Amazing,” Jennifer chorused.

  “Yes,” Elora agreed. And he was. His parade armor had been polished to perfection. It had taken his squire and two other men hours to scrub the shine into it. She felt bad for them. Their arms must hurt this morning.

  An awkward moment of silence stretched.

  Jennifer exchanged a glance with Lynda before turning back to Elora. “Your dress is stunning,” Jennifer complimented.

  The tone of her voice was not sincere, so Elora didn’t believe her. “Thank you.”

  They surrounded her, giving Elora chills of unease. What did they want? Was this about Edward, or was there something else?

  Bethany leaned closer to her. “Have you heard any rumors of rebellion?”

  Frowning, Elora snapped her head to look at her.

  Drool formed in the corner of Bethany’s lips. “Rebels loyal to Prince John are rumored to be at the tournament. It’s positively intriguing!”

  Elora straightened. “My house and my family are loyal to King Richard,” she proclaimed, lifting her chin in indignation. “Are you insinuating we are not?”

  Bethany’s mouth dropped open. “No! Forgive me, Lady Elora. I wasn’t implying that. I was just warning you.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Elora demanded.

  “No! I beg your forgiveness,” Bethany said. “I meant no offense.” She stepped away from Elora, and Jennifer and Lynda immediately came to her side, comforting and protecting her.

  Trumpets blared, and a cheer rose from the crowd, drawing Elora’s attention. Imagine speaking of such things in the open where others could hear!

  The parade of knights had just begun. Knights rode their destriers eloquently through the field; their spotless armor gleamed beneath the rays of the sun. They filed into the field of honor in a line. She immediately spotted Edward near the front. A rump cover in the deep burgundy color of their heraldry blanketed his black horse. His parade armor shone radiantly. His full helmet shielded his head, and a red feather at the very top bobbed every time his horse took a step. His squire ran before him, bearing a long pole with a crimson flag and a black phoenix on it, the Kingston family heraldry.

  As their favorite knight rode by, cheers and shouts erupted from the crowd behind the fence surrounding the field. Many adored Edward, as he was one of the knights favored to win the tournament. By the look of it, the entire town of Gracious Hill was here to see the parade.

  A roar arose from the gathering as Osmont trotted by the stands, his fist raised in the air. Elora kept her expression impassive as she watched him. Arrogant brute, she silently alleged. She skimmed the line of knights and realized she was searching for the knight who had saved her. The thought startled her, and she looked self-consciously down as if hiding her thoughts from the other nobles.

  The parade continued with long lines of knights dressed elaborately.

  One knight near the rear of the parade rode a chestnut steed and didn’t seem to have any polished parade armor. It looked like he wore his regular chainmail coat. He had no fancy feathers atop his helmet, no rump cover for his horse, no luster on his armor.

  Elora heard laughter from some nobles around her. She glanced at Bethany to see her pointing at the knight and sniggering. Lady Jennifer and Lady Lynda joined in the mockery, whispering to each other behind their raised hands.

  Elora frowned and returned her stare to the field and the simple knight. She felt sorry for him. Obviously, he had little coin, was not from a wealthy family, and had come to the tournament without a lord to sponsor him.

  Elora looked over the field of knights again, searching for the one who had saved her. In their armor with their helmets on, it was impossible to discern which one he might be. Still, she could imagine. One knight sat tall in his saddle, holding the reins of his horse with a firm grip.

  It could be him, she thought.

  A breeze lifted a lock of her hair and placed it on her cheek. She brushed at it as her gaze was drawn to the knight that she had seen ride onto the field with no fanfare—the plain knight with no grand armor or heraldry. There was something curious about him, something that called to her.

  His brown horse was calm and still beneath him as if it had been to tournaments before. Or perhaps it was his mastery of the animal. Elora wasn’t sure which. She tilted her head to regard him. Had he polished his armor? Perhaps. It was chainmail, so it was difficult to tell at this distance. In her mind, the knight who had saved her would have been too busy saving damsels in the marketplace to buff out his armor.

  Loud blaring trumpets sounded, jarring her from her reverie. She blinked herself back to the moment and realized the first joust was about to start. As the knights marched from the field, the throngs of spectators sat in the grass or found a spot to stand and watch.

  Behind Elora, Lady Bethany giggled and waved as Edward strode by on his warhorse. Elora cringed.

  When the arena was clear, the Grand Marshall announced, “Sir Mace!”

  Mace charged onto the field to a raucous cheer. He had promptly changed from his parade armor to his chainmail. He waved to the crowd as he spurred his horse around the field.

  Someone touched Elora’s shoulder, and she jumped. She spun to see Edward beside her, still in his parade armor, his helmet under his arm. He grinned at her. She nodded her head in greeting and quickly turned back to the field.

  Mace brought his horse to a halt amidst a swirl of dust on the far end of the field.

  “Sir Julian!” The Grand Marshall announced.

  Sir Julian rode his brown horse onto the field. A few lone claps issued from the surrounding audience.

  Elora’s back straightened, and her gaze focused intently on him when she recognized Sir Julian as the plain knight she had seen during the parade. His horse galloped around the field. When he passed the stands, Elora noticed he wore no heraldry.

  “Pardons,” a voice whispered.

  Recognizing Sarah’s voice, Elora reluctantly swiveled toward her t
o see her pushing her way through the nobles in the stand.

  Sarah glanced at Edward and then leaned in close to her to whisper, “I found him.”

  Elora’s mouth dropped, and she leaned closer to Sarah to hear her words.

  “There.” Sarah pointed to the plain knight taking his lap around the field. “Sir Julian.”

  Chapter Seven

  Elora’s heart missed a beat, and her eyes widened. She blinked and glanced at Sarah but noticed Edward’s scowling visage. She quickly moved to his side, casually stepping behind him to hide from Sir Julian.

  “Lady Elora must still be weary from all the riding to get here.” Sarah offered an explanation. She looked pointedly at Elora. “Isn’t that right?”

  Elora nodded, her gaze shifting again to Sir Julian, her rescuer.

  The knights were handed their long lances and spurred their horses down the list. Julian’s steed charged forward, getting a very slim early start. He lowered his lance and couched it in the crook of his arm, the tip pointed at Mace.

  Elora held her breath, placing her fingertips to her lips. Mace was a seasoned jouster. She had seen him joust and beat his opponent before. She didn’t want Sir Julian to be hurt, nor did she want him to lose.

  The lances of both knights hit hard, splintering on impact, debris flying about the field. Mace was knocked backwards but managed to stay in the saddle. A collective gasp echoed throughout the stands and spectators. Julian charged by, unaffected by Mace’s blow, which had slid from his shield.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Elora saw Edward shook his head in disapproval.

  Elora’s insides twisted. She couldn’t look at Edward. Truth be told, she could not tear her gaze from Sir Julian. He had surprised them all by landing a strike to Mace. There were only two more passes, two more chances for Julian to win.

  The squires rushed out to their knights and handed them new lances. The opponents urged their destriers forward for another pass, thundering down the field.

  Elora clasped her hands and placed them beneath her chin as if praying. And perhaps she was.

  The steeds charged down the list toward each other. The lances came down, angled, and positioned across the horse’s neck. Sir Julian leaned forward.

  Elora held her breath, her back straightening, drawing her up to witness the impact.

  The lances struck with a loud thunk, splintering. The force of the blow to Mace’s shoulder spun him sideways and off his horse. He hit the ground, his foot stuck in the stirrup, and his steed dragged him through the dust across the field.

  Elora gasped.

  The horse galloped to Mace’s side of the field, where his squire put up his arms to stop the animal. When it came to a halt, he raced over to Mace and unhooked the stirrup, freeing Mace’s leg.

  Elora waited. She had only thought about an injury to Sir Julian because she believed Mace would win. Now, she hoped Mace was not hurt. He lay in the dirt for a long moment. Elora tilted her head to see better, praying he would rise.

  Finally, Mace sat up. He shook his head hard before climbing unsteadily to his feet and waving to the crowd.

  Elora clapped with trembling hands. He was not hurt. Her gaze shifted to Julian, where he sat atop his brown horse. That meant only one thing…

  “The winner, Sir Julian!” the Grand Marshall declared.

  Her skin tingled as she spread her fingers over her chest. He had won! Admiration warmed her breast. A spattering of surprised applause erupted from the stands and the spectators. She caught Bethany’s incredulous stare. And then, Bethany’s sly gaze focused on Julian like a predator’s would.

  Elora hurried from the stands with Sarah while Edward waited for Mace. He wasn’t happy that an unknown knight had beaten his friend.

  The two women rushed onto the road into the town. As they walked, Elora said with a wide grin, “Tell me everything.” She couldn’t hide her excitement. This knight, this Sir Julian, had defeated Mace!

  “I know little about him,” Sarah admitted. “Not too many have heard of him.”

  A mysterious knight. Elora’s curiosity was piqued. “Maybe he is not a skilled knight. Maybe he was defeated in the jousts he’s competed in. Maybe that’s why no one has heard of him.”

  Sarah raised her eyebrow in disbelief. “Do you really believe that?”

  Elora shook her head. She couldn’t imagine that, not after seeing him joust with Mace. “What did they say about him?”

  Sarah shrugged. “The only thing Martin knew was that Sir Julian is very determined. He said he challenged every knight here that he could.”

  “Every knight?” Elora echoed. She twirled a strand of blonde hair thoughtfully. Sir Julian had saved them. Then, he’d knocked Mace from his horse and won the joust. Oh, she wanted to know more about this knight. She sighed softly, letting the lock of hair fall from her fingers. Perchance she was too interested in this knight. Perchance she should concentrate on finding a husband before Edward thrust one upon her.

  Sarah yanked gently on her hand to get her attention. “Sir Julian went back to his camp. Most of the other knights are at the joust. Edward is at the joust.”

  Elora looked at Sarah with a confused scowl. “What are you saying?”

  “I still have the traveling cloak.”

  Elora glanced back at the fields and all the people around them. She gently chewed on her lower lip.

  “I’ll go with you,” Sarah enticed.

  The last time they’d gone somewhere alone together, they had been caught up in a brawl. It didn’t seem wise. And yet, she wanted to see the knight. She wanted to thank him. She wanted to congratulate him on his advancement in the tournament. But mostly, she wanted to find out more about him.

  She couldn’t resist.

  Chapter Eight

  “Grrr,” Julian growled at a small, bright-eyed boy in an area beside his tent. After the joust, he had discovered the child, a boy from Gracious Hill named Adam, following him. He showed the child how to hold the stick like a sword, and now they crossed sticks in a battle for the town. “Come on, ya crooked nosed knave!”

  The boy swung at him, and Julian easily blocked it.

  “Ya aren’t tryin’,” Julian stated with a twisted grimace and a thick accent. “I’m a skamelar! Defend the country against me! Attack!”

  “I don’t want ta hurt ya,” Adam said softly, shyly.

  Julian grinned. He really liked the child. “I promise a stick will not hurt me.”

  Adam puffed out his lower lip in concentration and swung the stick.

  Julian easily knocked the strike aside.

  Baldwin watched near the tent with his arms crossed and a grimace on his face.

  The boy lunged, pushing the stick forward, and Julian caught it beneath his arm. “Ya got me!” he gasped and fell to his knees. “Ya are the champion.” He dropped into the grass on his back, mock dead.

  “I won!” Adam exclaimed, lifting his arms in the air triumphantly.

  Julian peeked out at the child through slitted eyes, unable to keep the smile from his lips. He immediately noticed the hooded woman standing beside Baldwin. He sucked in a breath and shot to his feet as amazement rushed through his body. He approached her, uncertain if she was a hallucination.

  He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t believe it. The woman from the market! Where had she come from? He thought he might never see her again. And here she was.

  A golden curl escaped the confines of the dark hood. He desired to see her face unhindered, unsheltered by the darkness.

  Adam stepped before her and dropped to a knee, presenting the stick to her. “I pledge my eternal devotion ta ya, m’lady.”

  Good Lord! That was what he should have done. Julian smiled at the boy and patted his brown head. He looked back at the woman. “Grand idea,” was all he could muster.

  “I saw how you defended the kingdom. Well done, Sir Knight,” she said to Adam. “You have saved us all.”

  Her voice sent delicious tremors throu
gh his body.

  The boy looked up at her from his kneeling position and smiled. He climbed to his feet and turned to Julian. “Sir Julian has been teaching me how to sword fight.”

  “He should be practicing for the joust,” Baldwin grumbled.

  Adam jumped up and down with excitement, proclaiming, “Sir Julian will win! I know it!”

  Julian couldn’t take his eyes from the woman. He was afraid if he did, she would disappear again. “Practice is over. Head home before your mother worries.”

  “Practice hasn’t even begun,” Baldwin mumbled.

  Adam frowned fiercely but tossed his stick aside. He took two steps toward the road before turning to address Julian. “Can I come back tomorrow?”

  Julian smiled and nodded.

  “Are you listening to anything I say?” Baldwin demanded.

  “Always,” Julian responded. But he wasn’t. She was taking up all his concentration. He could see her smooth jaw from the darkness and desired to see more. He wasn’t going to lose her this time.

  Suddenly, the boy rushed back and threw his arms around Julian’s legs in a tight embrace.

  Julian straightened in surprise and then relaxed with a tender grin as he stroked the boy’s hair. Adam whirled and sprinted away with a whoop.

  “It looks like you have a fan,” she said.

  Julian stared at her. A thousand questions crossed his mind. Who are you? Where did you go? How did you find me?

  She swiveled her head to glance at her friend, Sarah. Sarah. He knew her friend’s name. She had told him at the market. And then suddenly, he seemed to come to his senses. He bowed slightly. “Forgive my lack of manners. I am Sir Julian of Helmsley.”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but Sarah stepped up to her side and introduced, “Ellie.”

  Ellie stared at Sarah for a moment before turning to him with a nod. She presented her hand to him, knuckles up.

  Strange. A villager wouldn’t expect to have her knuckles kissed. Or a merchant. But he would not miss the chance. He grasped her hand, soft and delicate. No callouses nor hardened skin from work. He pressed his lips to her knuckles. She smelled of roses. “I’m very pleased to see that you were not harmed in the street fight.”