Beauty's Quest

by C. S. Johnson

  “Well, today’s the day we’re going to need it,” Philip agreed. “The tournament kick-off is in an hour, down in the city square. Felise tells me there’s going to be a crowd, so we had better get going.”

  “Can’t argue with that.” Theo grabbed his tunic and his gloves, and then, recalling his promise to the leaders at the church, put them back down. He would go in his priestly frock, he decided, recalling the conversations he’d had with the Abbess at the cathedral the previous day.

  Theo regretted his choice in attire as soon as he saw the look on Rose’s face. It held a grim mixture of darkened relief, before the expression flickered away and she asked him if he expected many people to die on opening day.

  “No, but I have no doubt there will be a lot of people praying for good fortune,” he remarked easily, raising his eyebrow as he looked her over. She said nothing; she only rolled her eyes and went back to eating her breakfast.

  He wondered if Rose would think of him later, praying for her success.

  Ever since that night he’d fallen asleep on her shoulder, something had changed—no matter he had woken up a few hours later and carried her to bed, tucking her in gently, and waiting until her breathing had returned to its steady rhythm before returning to his own bed. She had been reluctant to make time for him since then.

  Not that she needed to, he sternly lectured himself. But something had been off in the steady cadence of their friendship, and he could not say if it was nerves or embarrassment or even something else—mostly because “something else” was too unbearable to contemplate. He pushed free of his own thoughts as Rose and Philip discussed their upcoming events.

  “Felise managed to get us a list of the events,” Rose was saying to Philip. “Looks like jousting is going to be one of the later ones.”

  “Should give you plenty of time to recover from the running of the bulls, then,” Philip agreed. “Felise said that’s how they get a lot of people to pay a lot of money and then drop out of the competition, and I happen to agree.”

  “Sounds dangerous,” Theo spoke up. “Do you have to finish in a certain amount of time, or before a specific number of others?”

  “Nope.” Philip grinned. “In true Aragonian tradition, you just have to survive.”

  “Oh.” Theo shook his head. “Well, I have noticed there are quite a few people around here determined to get personal glory.”

  “Yes, it’s good we’re just here for the money,” Rose muttered in reply as she sipped out of her tankard.

  Theo held his ground. “It might be harder to win, not just because of physical demands but also personal ones. It would be easy to make enemies.”

  Ethan shuffled his feet as he ate his breakfast. “From my observations of the practice arena, Rose, you are in good form and standing among the competition.”

  “Let’s hope so.” Rose nodded. “We’ll need a good amount of money to book passage on a ship out of here.”

  “I checked down at the docks yesterday on my way back from the city blacksmith quarters, as you requested,” Sophia spoke up. “We might have a few options, even if you guys don’t place well.”

  “Just be careful,” Mary spoke up as she perched herself on Theo’s shoulder. “My magic might be able to conjure up a small raft from a tree trunk, but there’s no way to save everyone from the kind of storm that brought us here.”

  Felise appeared in the doorway of the dining hall. “There are my favorite competitors,” he said in greeting, rubbing his hands together. There was a speculative gleam in his eye as he added, “How can I help you get to the arena today?”

  Despite the tension between them, Rose and Theo exchanged a smile; both were able to guess that their prudent, well-invested innkeeper had no doubt placed substantial bets on their performances after witnessing their practice sessions.

  “We’re just discussing the running of the bulls,” Rose spoke up. “It says on the program that it’ll be in a couple hours at the main city arena.”

  “It’ll start there,” Felise said. “But it’ll take you out and around the city, down the docks, up by the mountains, and back through the city square.”

  “It’s that long?” Roderick asked, as he came into the room and joined them.

  “It’s a tournament,” Felise reminded him. “This is the best and the brightest.”

  “But we’re running from bulls. It’s not exactly the smartest thing I’ve heard of.”

  “It’s tradition,” Felise said with a shrug. “It doesn’t have to be smart, or logical, or anything. It just has to be intentional.”

  “I suppose that’s fair.” Rose shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the silliest thing I’ve heard of.”

  “There are reasons for it,” Felise said, “in the Aragonian tradition, that even Maltians, or Rhonians, will never understand unless we see it from their perspective.”

  “But we will.” Roderick spoke up from the far corner of the room. “There are many Aragonians who have arrived at the docks in the last day.”

  “Don’t fret about it,” Felise chided. “Many just come to watch and laugh at the contestants; few will participate. They think it’s entertaining to see foreigners tested in their home nation’s sports.”

  Theo stood up. “We don’t have much time. Is it possible the crowds will disrupt us?”

  “Theo’s right.” Rose pushed back her chair. “Let’s go.”

  WITH THE ASSISTANCE of Felise and his chariot, they headed out towards the city arena together.

  Fanfare radiated the city landscape, charging the crowds with excitement and emotional energy. People could be heard yelling and fighting passionately, all in a variety of languages. Rose almost laughed at the ones she was able to decode, but the new ones were almost frightening.

  Philip came up beside Rose. “This is almost like your father’s tournament,” he told her, “except much larger.”

  “Yes, well, Rhone is a small nation,” she reminded him. “And we are tucked out of the way. I imagine this is what it would look like if we were on the direct trading passages to the East.”

  “Einish is farther north,” he told her. “But we are suited very nicely around the trade routes. This looks much like a port we have near my summer home, O’Lin.”

  “Look, Rose!” Ethan pointed eagerly. “There’s a performer’s tent, and they’re looking for contestants.” He looked over at her. “Do you think I would be able to enter with my harp?”

  Rose pursed her lips together as she considered it. “Well, Penelope would be the better one to ask, since she is teaching you this week while we’re in the tournament games. You might as well check it out.”

  “Can we afford it?”

  “For you, absolutely.”

  “All right!” Ethan cheered, and Rose immediately decided she had made the right decision, even though she hoped it wouldn’t cost her the remaining coins in her purse.

  “Don’t wait up for me,” he called, hopping off the chariot and into the crowd. “I’ll catch up later.”

  “No need to worry about it. Be careful,” Rose called, warning him as he weaved through the thick crowds. “And meet us back at the inn at the end of the day.”

  She caught sight of Sophia, who was smiling to herself beneath her blacksmith cap. Her mismatched eyes met Rose’s as she mouthed a silent, “Thank you.”

  Philip also nodded. “It’s for the best for him.”

  “He’s young yet,” Rose agreed. “He might as well have some fun while he can. We have other things to worry about for now.” She shifted out of the conversation topic and into another one. “Such as what is waiting for us at the arena.”

  “It’s just over there,” Philip told her, indicating the area to her right. She scooted over as she tried to get a better angle on her view and bumped into Theo.

  Flushing red heat warmed her cheeks. Rose felt the tournament’s worries slip away as the memory of the night she had fallen asleep outside with Theo came rushing into her mind.

 
Rose had woken up briefly to see he had fallen asleep, leaning into her. She had reached out and grazed her palm against the stubble of his coming beard, her disloyal fingers lingering around the softness of his mouth as she studied the rest of him. She was shocked to realize the boy she had gone adventuring with had blossomed into a man.

  A compassionate, caring, and strong man.

  At the quaking of her body and the shudder in her heart, she realized the darkness, even with all its secrecy, had failed to disguise the longing inside of her.

  Reality snapped through her as the chariot tumbled over broken cobblestones. Theo grabbed her arm, steading her, and she glared at him. The hidden bitterness in her heart over her fate caused her to hate him in that moment.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Rose only nodded and cleared her throat, struggling to convince herself he could not read her thoughts. Why did he have to make it so easy for her to want to be with him, when it was impossible? When it was too painful to even think about?

  “Excuse me,” she whispered.

  At her narrowed gaze, he said nothing; Theo shifted over, and Rose determinedly fixed her gaze on the arena and her mind on the task ahead.

  From the sight of it, the arena was a good distance around, and the path around the heart of island civilization would be longer. Rose nearly groaned at the thought of running it all; she was not accustomed to running longer distances. Rose knew from her studies that retreats never worked in the long-term.

  “Felise, can you stop for a moment?” Rose asked. “I want to see if I can see the trail from here.”

  “They have it blocked off,” Felise informed her. “You’ll see it when you’re running it. Chances are, you won’t even care when it comes to it. You’ll be too busy fleeing for your life from the bulls.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Rose replied, already sliding around the handrail. “Just give me a moment. I’m trying to visualize it.”

  “Rose!” Philip cried out as she hopped off the chariot and into traffic.

  The rush and bustle of the people and animals moving caused Rose to stumble, and she nearly fell over as a horse and its rider shied and reared.

  “What in blazes are you doing?!”

  The cry barely registered in Rose’s mind as someone grabbed her arm and steadied her. She looked up to see Philip’s hazel eyes lit with concern as he gripped her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Felise yank on the reins of the chariot’s team and jolt to a stop.

  “We apologize, sir,” Felise spoke up, addressing the horse’s rider, who had been the one to yell.

  Rose looked behind her to see a giant man resembling a Gaullian warrior. He was large and broad, and his beard clung to his chainmail. His angry expression made his thoughts easy to decipher.

  “Get your lady out of my way,” he snarled at Philip. “I’d hate to get her blood all over Storm’s hooves.”

  “At least my blood would be clean,” Rose shot back, infuriated she’d been passed over.

  “By the sound of it, you’d best get her to hold her tongue, too.”

  Philip frowned as Rose nearly sputtered in anger. “There’s no need for insult, sir.”

  “The only need I have is to get to the arena.” The rider puffed up his chest. “If I, the Great Marsor of Castile and Aragon, am going to win the Maltia’s bullfight tournaments for the fourth year in a row, I need to be there for the opening ceremonies.”

  “There’s nothing ‘great’ about being a brainless brute who insults people,” Rose snapped.

  “I’m not the one who was traipsing through traffic!” Marsor yelled back.

  “Well, you are the one who is holding up traffic now,” Philip pointed out. “We have apologized, needlessly it seems. Be on your way, sir.”

  “I’ll not take orders from the likes of you.” Marsor huffed. But the roars of others behind him drew his annoyed scowl into one of blatant hatred. “Mark my words, you’ll pay for this.” He spat on the ground between them before he urged his horse onward, allowing traffic to resume with growing sparks of fluttery conversation.

  “Let’s get back in the chariot, Rose,” Philip said, guiding her along.

  “I’m no one’s ‘lady,’” Rose muttered angrily, watching the crowds cover the path Marsor had created in his angry departure.

  “I know,” Philip said. “I’m sure he just is not blessed with good sense.”

  “That’s Marsor the Strong, from the Aragonian kingdom,” Felise told Rose, as Theo took her hand and pulled her into the chariot. “He’s smart enough to have won this several rounds in this tournament, and others, for at least three years in a row.” Looking at Rose’s face, he added in a loyal tone, “You’re right about his manners, though. Hardly fitting for polite company.”

  “How can such a horrible man be smart enough to win such a grand tournament as this?” Sophia asked.

  “Determination doesn’t require being smart,” Rose guessed.

  “He’s a mercenary,” Felise explained. “He’s paid well to know how to win. The Aragonians are particularly good at battle, too, seeing as how a lot of their knights travel, looking for a chance to sell their services.”

  “I’ve heard they have leadership issues in Castile and Aragon,” Theo spoke up, catching Rose’s eye with a knowing look. They’d had some experience with some of their fighters before.

  “To say the least,” Felise agreed. “I’m glad Maltia is not like that. With our economy, we have too much to lose to cause trouble, and it’s a good thing we know it.”

  There were advantages to trading rather than fighting, Rose silently agreed, recalling Rhone’s policies on similar matters.

  Felise interrupted her thoughts. “We’re coming up on the cathedral,” he said, indicating a large set of stairs, leading up a small hill overlooking the city square. “I’ll pull over so you can get out, sir.”

  Rose looked up at the grand cathedral church; she was not surprised to see in proper daylight it looked grander than the one in Rhone, nor was she shocked to see it looked as distant and cold as ever to her.

  A hand squeezed around hers. “Be safe today ... Rosary.” Theo’s murmured request was a soft whisper against her nape, sending chills down her back.

  Rose stilled as his hand left hers, and he exited. Before she could say anything, Theo waved his hand and Mary, poking her head out of a pouch tied to his belt, winked as she sent a flicker of sparks in farewell.

  “Have fun,” Philip called back, as their travel resumed. He turned to Rose. “Hopefully, we won’t need to see them while we’re competing.”

  “Yeah,” Rose agreed. “The medical tents have to be depressing.” She wrinkled her nose. “I think I’ll pass on visiting if I don’t have to.”

  “You can come and visit me,” Sophia told her. “The smithing forage is on the other side of the arena, but it’s always full of people. Most of them seem nice enough.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Rose told her. “I’ll need to spend some time later preparing for the jousting competition.”

  “That’s still two days away,” Felise reminded her. “You’ll have plenty of time to do other things.” His greedy eyes glittered. “There’s a reason the events are so spaced out and there are some restrictions on entering. Maltia turns out a nice tournament, but in the end, they are the ones who benefit the most, financially.”

  “Seems pretty fair,” Philip said. “Einish does similar events and such for holidays and special occasions. This is the first time I’ve been to a place that holds specific cultural tournaments.”

  “The diversity of Maltia’s history makes for excellent tourism,” Felise said with a chuckle.

  “So excellent profit,” Rose noticed.

  “Yes. And you and your team will be bringing me in some extra profit this year,” Felise added.

  “How do you know?” Rose asked. “You’ve only known us a few days.”

  Felise laughed. “I’ve seen you practice and take charge. Yo
ur followers are varied and intelligent, and very loyal to you. That’s not something that happens by accident. They have great faith in you, and it is not blind.”

  “That’s true.”

  “I’ve heard the stories of you, you know.”

  “What stories?” Rose asked.

  “The stories of the exiled princess of Rhone, an unbelievably beautiful young woman who has trained as a knight and works as a mercenary and peacekeeper.”

  A moment passed before Rose found her voice. “How did you figure out that was me?” Rose asked. “I never told you.”

  “There are none so blind as they who will not see,” he quoted. “And I, My Lady, choose to look very closely at who I deal with.” He laughed. “That, and your man, Lannister, is a bit of an easy drunk.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” Rose muttered. “I guess I know who will be staying on Maltia if we can’t afford passage for everyone.”

  Felise laughed harder. “It won’t come to that, my lady. I’m sure of it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I actually bet money on it. I haven’t lost a bet in years,” he bragged proudly.

  Rose smirked. “Famous last words, Felise.”

  *9*

  ҉

  ROSE HAD NEVER BEEN good about admitting her more unpleasant feelings to herself, seeing it as a weakness at worst and an inconvenience at best. But as the tournament began, and city counselors called for the traditional running of the bulls, Rose was more than happy to admit she was nervous. With the combined smells of sweat, sunshine, and essence of bull, she was less willing to focus on how much she wanted to vomit. Looking over at Philip, she could see he was struggling to maintain his own composure, while Roderick, who was getting ready on the other side of her, seemed ambivalent to the smelly atmosphere.

  Philip tapped her shoulder, and then pointed to the gates behind them. “That’s where all the bulls are kept,” he said. “I don’t think it’ll be as much of a chore as we’d feared, running from them.”

  “Not with this smell,” Rose agreed with a laugh.