by Jackie Ivie
The open air on her face was a delight, too. She hadn’t realized what a weight her veils were. She tipped her head back and shook it slightly, amazed at the feel of unbound hair. Augusta had done Bessie’s hair into a mass of ringlets that framed her face before being tied back with an emerald green ribbon. From there, her locks reached the small of her back. It wasn’t noticeable. She wore a large shawl. Augusta had insisted on the covering. The woman acted just like her older sister, Roberta, about it. Bessie hadn’t realized how alike they were until now.
She kept her head bowed but turned the covering of her shawl occasionally to look about. It was amazing how quickly tents had been assembled, and games of chance put on display. The grounds had been vacant yesterday. Now, none would believe it.
She’d spotted her guards immediately. They were much larger than Roberta had promised, but dressed in a nondescript fashion. They’d nodded their heads at her questioning glance. There were also more than two of them. Roberta had sent four.
Bessie was grateful for their presence. She’d never been around so many people in her life. It was a bit frightening.
“Quick! The black knight is asking a favor!”
“Where?”
“My. He’s a handsome sort, isn’t he?”
All about her, the crowd was pressing forward. Bessie joined them. If she lost her chance to appeal to Devon now, she’d just have to admit defeat and slink back to her chamber. And Roberta would never let her forget it.
“Pardon me. Sir? Could you move a bit?”
The man she’d spoken to turned, his surly face changing the instant he saw her. “Well, look here. A beauteous wench! And just when I had given up hope.”
Bessie narrowed her eyes. “I’d like to watch the contest, please. You will need to give over a spot in order to make that happen.”
His eyebrow rose higher at her cultured voice. “It has not started, yet. There is a newcomer to the field. Attired in black. A brawny sort. Can you see well enough, or would you like a lift to my shoulder?”
Bessie backed from the filthy hands he held out toward her. “I—I think I’ll try to see better from a different place.”
“Allow me to see you there, then.”
“No please, it’s quite all right. There’s no need for such gallantry.”
“Have you a gent at your side?”
He looked about.
“Actually, I’ve four of them. See for yourself. Men!”
Bessie waved her hand, and the four men actually stepped closer. She watched as the man looked them over before dropping his gaze back to her.
“Tell your owner he is lazy with his property.”
He turned away from her and solidly blocked her view. Bessie was left no option other than approaching one of her own men. “I can’t see,” she whispered the complaint.
“If you’ll allow it, I can lift you to my shoulder, my lady.”
“Your...shoulder?”
“’Tis not uncommon. Look about.”
Bessie did so. He was right. Several smaller-sized folks and children were perched atop shoulders. She pulled in her lip and then nodded, and was hoisted. It felt odd. Precarious. But from that vantage, she got an excellent view. The voice in the crowd had been mistaken. It was impossible to tell if the knight in black was handsome or not. It was also obvious that it couldn’t be Devon. Bessie didn’t recognize the horse.
There were thirteen knights lined up before the dais. Bessie picked out the one that must be Devon. He appeared to be the largest, he was attired in hard-to-miss gleaming silver plate, and he was astride her prime stallion, Aaron-Run. Bessie had purchased the horse at Sir Geoffrey’s urging. Sir Geoffrey knew horses. He had approval to buy as many as he saw fit. He’d wanted Bessie’s permission for Aaron-Run, however. The horse may be beautiful, but it was said he possessed an evil nature.
Devon had picked Aaron-Run for the tourney. Bessie hoped her husband knew what he was doing.
The knights started milling. Bessie guessed this was her chance. She bent her knees for leverage, planting her feet against her man’s chest, slid her hands up the edges of her cloak, opened it, and tossed it from her shoulders.
All about, loud gasps accompanied her actions. She ignored them. She had eyes for only one knight. The one astride Aaron-Run. But then he turned. Bessie’s eyes widened at the same time she lost her breath. Devon was already wearing a blue ribbon tied about his arm. He’d accepted a favor already?
Damn his handsome hide!
Her eyes scanned the crowd, trying to find the woman who must have given that favor. There were too many in blue. Bessie’s eyes filled with tears as she realized it. She might as well admit defeat. Bessie bent toward her guard’s ear. She was afraid every bit of her emotion flavored the words, but she was powerless to do anything about it.
“You’d best put me down. I’ll not need this vantage, after all. I’ve arrived too late.”
The man who held her pointed to the field. What he gestured toward made her start. She barely heard the comments over the buzzing noise in her own ears.
“The black knight approaches!”
“I’ll give him my favor!”
“He doesn’t want yours, you old crone! He wants hers!”
“Who is she? I’ve not seen her afore.”
“Let him through, it’s the red-headed wench he’s after!”
The crowd parted for the man and his horse. He came to a stop directly before her. The crowd hushed. Bessie brushed stray hairs from her face and looked across and up at him. And hoped she didn’t look as faint as she felt.
His armor was as black as his horse. He had a red plume at the top of his face-plate. There were four large slits in the front of his helm, molded into the metal. He was silent. Large. Frightening.
Bessie wondered if this were the Sir John fellow that was lending Devon his armor. The black knight shifted his horse closer. Her hands shook. Her legs joined in. The man holding her tightened his grip on her, as if she was in danger of falling. He wasn’t far off.
“I’ve come for your favor.”
The metal plate distorted his voice, making his words vibrate. A ripple of sound ran the crowd as the black knight lifted an arm toward her. Bessie kept her eyes on the metal spikes covering the gauntlet he wore. She was afraid to move.
“Take mine instead!” One of the women about them cried.
Bessie glanced over the black knight’s shoulder, saw that Devon was watching. She tried to ignore everything else. Her heart was pounding. Each breath iced. She cleared her throat. “I’ve...got but one, Sir Knight,” she managed to respond.
“Give it to me.”
Bessie moved a hand to her skirt edge and raised it to show a dress boot and the ribbon attached just above it. The man holding her shifted his hands, supporting the movement. She did her best to ignore how that felt, too. She couldn’t believe what she was doing. She only hoped Roberta didn’t faint.
She held her leg out to him. He caught it with one hand, grabbed the ribbon edge with the metal fingers of his other hand, and pulled, gaining a length of emerald green satin that contrasted vividly with his armor. Bessie replaced her skirt as the knight held the ribbon high, dangling it for all to see. The crowd noise changed from silence to a swell of sound. They were cheering.
The knight moved even closer, pushing her legs with his horse’s neck. He’d brought his arm back down and held the ribbon toward her now. She was in luck the guard who’d lifted her was strong. Capable. He didn’t sway an inch as she tied the ribbon about the knight’s arm, blinking rapidly against the suspicion of tears the entire time. He didn’t say anything. Bessie was silent, as well. She didn’t look to see if he watched her. She didn’t dare. She guessed she was suffering the reaction of making a spectacle of herself. It wasn’t pleasant. Roberta had been right.
The knight moved away, returning to the field. The crowd closed the avenue they’d made for him. Bessie kept her gaze on her skirt. This was terrible. What had
she done? Everything had gone awry. She didn’t want to appeal to a stranger in black armor! She wanted Devon, not some faceless stranger.
“Perhaps I’d best take in some air.” She bent to whisper it to her guard.
“Very well.”
He moved his hands to her waist and helped her slide back to the ground. Bessie stood in the midst of her guards. Undecided. Embarrassed. Awkward. Her discarded cloak was nowhere in sight.
“We will not leave your side, my lady. You’re safe enough. Come. Let us fetch you a stool.”
Bessie thanked Roberta silently for the guards as she looked toward the dais. Nobody blocked that view. There was a figure sitting there, dressed in brown, with a large off-white veil covering her. She knew it was Roberta, but it could have been anyone. That was how she appeared to Devon Hildebrand? No wonder he called her ugly!
The ground trembled beneath her feet. She couldn’t see why. The sound of armor hitting armor was loud. The crowd cheered. Bessie strained her neck. She wasn’t about to accept another lift, but the stool would work well enough. If, her man returned with it in time.
“The knight gives! What a waste.”
A match takes so little time? That was odd. More thudding sounds came, more metal hitting metal, and then a man’s cry filled the air. Bessie couldn’t tell if it were Devon or not, because cheering covered it over.
How she wished she were taller!
“Oh. He will survive it. They always do. It’s all for show.”
Bessie looked at the man who’d spoken. He seemed disappointed at the knight’s survival.
“No. It is not!”
“The gentry never allow true injury. If there’s bleeding to do, they will find one of us to do it for them.”
“Take back your words!”
Bessie backed into the three guards left to her as men began fighting right beside her, nearly pulling her into an enlarging melee. Oh. This was worse than terrible. She might as well admit it. Roberta had been more than right.
“There’s the black knight, again! Look! They cannot unseat him.”
“Come, my lady.”
The man who’d lifted her whispered at her ear, before he touched her elbow. Bessie walked beside him in a humble fashion. The air no longer intoxicated and thrilled. It made her shiver.
“The silver knight is down!”
Bessie stopped. Her heart fell. Devon had been unseated? He wasn’t hurt, was he?
“He’s not done. See? He’s got his lance out.”
“Oh! That looks like it pained.”
“Lift me. Now!”
Bessie grabbed the guard’s sleeve and commanded it. He hoisted her in front of him, and held her there.
It was Devon, all right. He was on the ground. And bleeding. The blue ribbon was dark with it. Bessie cried out, but it was lost in the crowd noise as the black knight bore down on him again.
“No!”
She screamed it as the silver knight toppled and lay still. Tears blurred her view. Fire hit her chest. Each heartbeat contained agony. The silver knight’s squire raced to his side and helped the knight sit. All about her Bessie heard the reaction from the crowd.
“Thank the Lord. He lives.”
“He does? What a shame.”
The guard’s grip slipped. Bessie fell. Stumbled. She didn’t care. She wanted to be far away from the man who was disappointed. She wanted to be far away from all of them.
“I’ve found a keg for you, my lady. Here. Sit. I will go and see to the knight’s injuries.”
“I...would rather leave, I think.”
Another of her guards answered her. “You cannot leave, my lady. The black knight still wins. He wears your favor. He may wish more from you.”
“He might?” Oh dear. She hadn’t even considered that!
“You hear the crowd?”
“Yes.”
“That is why you need to stay. Apologies. Your absence could start a riot.”
“Drat the man!”
Bessie listened as knight after knight fall. Each time her heart grew heavier, her spirits lower...because the one in black won. Her guardsman returned. She was watching for him. She hadn’t checked the field since Devon had been unseated. She knew it was the final bout. She didn’t care. All she cared about was Devon. The man in black should be tired by now. He should have fallen from sheer exhaustion.
“The silver knight has a gash on his arm. He’ll survive.”
“Oh! Thank you.” Bessie smiled at the news. Devon wouldn’t be happy with an injured arm, but at least he lived.
“Ah! ’Tis over. The black one wins!”
Someone shouted it, and Bessie made a face in that direction.
“You need to stand, my lady. He’ll be looking for you.”
Bessie didn’t know if her legs would support it. But she stood up without help. The vantage from the keg put her in clear view. It was odd, but she knew the knight had been watching for her. She could have sworn it as he dipped his helmet in her direction before riding to the dais. And everyone was watching as he dismounted and pulled the helmet off.
“Oh. Dearest God.”
Bessie’s whisper was drowned out by the reaction of the crowd as Devon Hildebrand turned and waved. And her stupid legs wouldn’t hold her. She collapsed back onto the wooden top of her keg.
It couldn’t be!
Reaction made her shake, cry, and laugh. All at the same time. She wasn’t noticed. Everyone seemed to be watching the field. Devon must be accepting his winnings. Bessie dabbed at her eyes with her skirt hem. Devon hadn’t lied. He was very good.
She knew when he approached. She didn’t have to watch. The crowd’s reaction told her of it. One of her guards offered an assist to stand. She used it.
Devon was untying his green ribbon as he walked his horse toward her. The crowd parted. She may have missed what he thought of her when he first saw her, but it was a moot point. His emerald gaze didn’t shift from hers. And he looked very pleased.
“Who is she?”
“I’ll scratch her eyes out!”
All sorts of comments accompanied his passage. Bessie barely heard them. The keg made them a like height. Devon stopped his stallion and regarded her. Both were covered with sweat, breathing heavily. Devon‘s dark hair was plastered to his skull. His horse was frothed.
“Your favor, my lady.”
What was she supposed to do? Did he want a kiss? Now? A slow smile curved his mouth before he slid his gaze down her frame and back. Bessie gasped. She didn’t think she was the only one.
“I beg leave to replace this from whence I got it.”
And he lifted the ribbon to his lips to kiss it.
CHAPTER NINE
“You are not going alone.”
“Of course I am. He is my husband, you know.”
“He doesn’t know he is. He thinks he’s cuckolding you.”
“Nonsense. I wonder if I can disguise my voice or if I should be mute the entire time. I wonder if he’ll think it odd.”
“He’ll think meeting with you is odd.”
“Why? That’s what he asked me to do. He could have required a kiss out there. In view of all those people. Thank goodness he’d rather meet me at Aaron-Run’s stable. He wants me there tonight. How could I say him nay?”
“Easily. You could have said something like, ‘as your wife, I’m against the idea, my lord. Your bedchamber is warmer, for one. It’s private, for another. It’s safer, for a third.’ You could have said any of that.”
“And give myself away? Whatever for?” Bessie twirled about in her gown, watching the full-length apron flare out as she did so.
“You are enjoying this!”
“Don’t be so scandalized, Roberta. Of course I am enjoying it. I am about to give that man the set-down of his life.”
“You will not get the chance. He’ll ravish you, and then you’ll know for certain what sort of a man you wed.”
“I’d rather find out first-hand, then.”
“How do you know it will hurt?”
Bessie stopped her dance and looked at the maid. Roberta wouldn’t meet her eyes. There was a long silence before Roberta spoke again.
“Please don’t do this, Bess.”
“Why?”
“A man that will betray his newly-wedded wife is without honor. I don’t want you to find that out about him. I’m afraid for you.”
“Maybe he’ll turn me down. Have you ever considered that?”
“I saw him today. The entire field saw him. He will not turn you down.”
“Then I’ll turn him down. He is not going to have me, Roberta...not until he’s proven himself worthy.”
“You’re setting him up to fail and can’t even see it. I certainly hope you can handle the hurt when it comes.”
“I’ll say if it hurts. And when. I don’t need you to lecture me about it.”
Bessie couldn’t help sounding curt. Ever since Devon had whispered in her ear, she’d felt tied up inside, coiled tightly like a ball of twine. The excitement of enticing him, and perhaps even receiving a kiss was making her breathless with anticipation. Alive with excitement. Abuzz with eagerness.
She didn’t want to look at anything too closely. Besides, he couldn’t actually betray his wife, if she was his wife.
Could he?
Devon had pulled her to him at the joust, after she’d shaken her head at his request. She’d not allow him to replace the ribbon! It was bad enough she’d shown her lower leg already, without doing it again. He’d nearly pulled her atop his horse, bent his head, and Bess had closed her eyes in anticipation of his kiss. But what had happened? He’d whispered in her ear, instead.
“Meet me at the devil-horse’s stable tonight. I’ll replace it, then.”
The crowd went wild as her mouth had opened in surprise. They hadn’t known what he said, they’d simply guessed at it. Devon had placed her back atop the keg and turned. Bessie wasn’t the only one who watched him look to the dais, and the shrouded figure of his wife. He had the strangest expression on his face as he’d done so, too.