Tournament Prize

by Ling, Maria

  She turned to study him, with a close attention she had not been free give him before. Saw a thoughtful, sensitive expression on a lean-boned face, felt light but strong fingers curl around hers, smelled soap and linen and warm skin from the body so close to her own. Swallowed, as desire rushed through her and overturned all thoughts of logic and reason and argument.

  "Yes," she said. "I do."

  Alan raised her hand to his lips, and the kiss he laid on her fingers sent a shiver clear through her body. She felt dazed, delirious with pleasure, and instinctively drew closer to him. Touched her free hand to his shoulder, let her fingertips tease out a strand of his hair. He closed his eyes, leaned forward a little, and it felt so natural and easy to answer the movement, touch her lips to his. Taste him, ever so gently, while they both held their breath and lingered over each caress. Breathe at last, softly, sharing the air that sifted in from the window, scented with autumn chill. Rest her forehead against his shoulder, and lean into his embrace, and imagine a life with this man, all the remaining years of this one life that was hers.

  "I shall want books," Caroline murmured, and felt silent laughter course through his chest.

  "Never doubt it," he murmured back, his mouth nestled against her ear. "You shall have shelves of them."

  "I shall want -- "

  "Anything I have the power to give, you shall receive, and in rich measure."

  She leaned back a little then, smiled into eyes that glowed with affection. "Careful what you promise. I have been called unreasonable."

  "Not by me. A lady who asks only for a few books and the right to express an opinion on any subject she damn well cares to, when she could demand land and castles and jewelled cloth -- " Alan grinned now, and the laughter quivered in his chest, she could feel it. "That's the wife I'll praise God for sending, if I can only bring her to see the joy of a good horse."

  "Show me," Caroline said promptly. "I should like to learn."

  "As it happens, I brought a spare. Roland's lame destrier. He's on the big side for a lady, but he's even-tempered and loves to work."

  "I'm thinking of keeping him by as a companion for the younger horses." Roland broke his conversation with Matilda to offer Caroline an explanation. "But he'll need to feel useful. Hates not being ridden. It's ladies or squires at this point, I think. Lighter weight, no armour, easy exercise only. You'd do me a favour by trying him out."

  "Thank you." Caroline beamed at them both. "I would love to."

  "What's that?" Madeline strove to disengage from Guillaume, who turned so seductive a smile on her that even Caroline felt a little faint. Matilda nudged his shoulder, but it was de Rous who broke the mood. He rose, scowling, and bade them all farewell in the curtest possible tone.

  Alan waited only for the door to shut, then said: "I have the honour to ask your permission, madam, to take your daughter Caroline out for a short ride. It's a fine morning."

  "I suppose it is." Madeline squinted past Guillaume, which showed a fortitude Caroline could not but admire. The man was worth looking at. Especially now, when he dropped the polished seductiveness and flashed Matilda a smile of honest affection. That she could truly envy, Caroline thought, and held Alan's hand a little tighter.

  "I would ask you," Alan said in an undertone, "to curb that admiration."

  Caroline stifled a giggle. "Your friend merely shows you to advantage."

  Alan's hand returned her squeeze. "I would usually deplore such tampering with the truth, but in this case I'll make an exception."

  "You will of course be accompanied." Madeline made her decision in a firm tone. "Take the groom with you."

  "Of course." Caroline knew better than to argue. She traipsed out, close to Alan and full of joy.

  Until she saw the gargantuan beast she was to ride, and cowered back with a whimper.

  "Don't be intimidated." Roland stroked the huge head with an easy hand. "He's a gentle sort, unless he sees blade or shield coming for him. Don't swing a sword at me."

  Caroline choked on a laugh. "I wasn't planning to." She let Alan lift her up, relished his firm grip on her waist and solid stance under her knee. Caught her breath at the height, and then found she liked the sense of power it granted her.

  "We'll take a slow walk." The men mounted also, and Matilda. Caroline half thought of dismissing her groom, who eyed the horse with cool appreciation, but decided it wasn't worth the risk of a quarrel with her mother.

  "Are Geoffrey and Guillaume staying within?" she asked, with a puzzled glance up at the window.

  "Answering questions." Alan leaned over to adjust her hold on the reins. "He's not trained for a lady's horse, so be careful. You don't want him showing you battlefield tricks."

  "I don't," Caroline agreed. From what she'd seen, she was better off never experiencing those. "What questions?"

  "Geoffrey about my solvency, Guillaume about my family and fighting. We thought between them they'd cover all the areas your parents were most likely to want to know about."

  "Clever." Caroline shot Alan a look of genuine appreciation. "Do you play chess, by any chance?"

  "Naturally."

  "Bet you get all your pieces in order before you move to pin down the king."

  "He does," Matilda confirmed. "Risky moves unsettle him. Threaten his queen early if you can."

  "Now I'm obliged to you," Alan said in a dry tone. "Are you here to expose all my weaknesses, or merely to provide companionship for the lady?"

  "Please do both," Caroline urged. Her smile faded. "Where is Leofe? I hope she's well."

  "Resting," Roland said. "It's got a little too exciting for her these past couple of days, and she's missed her naps. She wanted to come and see you, but I talked her out of it. Plenty of time yet."

  Caroline hoped so. She liked all of them, could imagine sharing their life on the road. Alan's bed, too -- but her cheeks singed at that thought, and she thrust it aside as best she could. Tried to think of other things, books they could read and discuss together, new places to see.

  Roland led the way towards the field beyond the busy camp, where servants packed crates full of belongings into carts. He chose a path that led him within calling distance of a cluster of tents with familiar shields suspended outside, caught a boy and sent him within with a message. Nodded satisfaction as the boy returned. "She's asleep. Best thing for her. I'll bring her to the house this afternoon, if that's acceptable to you."

  "Of course," Caroline said, happy they were not planning to leave just yet.

  The horse moved well under her, large loping strides that felt oddly soothing. She'd been unsettled at first, but now began to get used to it. Alan corrected her gently at times, added in snippets of explanation or information. She had seldom learned so quickly even from the best tutors. He had a knack, she thought, of feeding out just as much as she could manage with each bite.

  "You should see him with the pages and squires," Matilda said. "Spends hours teaching them. I've sent him Guillaume's and mine, it saves our headaches."

  "I enjoy teaching," Alan said mildly. "None of us were born knowing much."

  "True," Matilda admitted. "Few of us were born with your patience, either."

  Caroline allowed herself to daydream about children of her own. She'd always liked the idea. For years she'd helped with her youngest sisters, and she still combed and teased and taught as best she could, though they needed less of her care now. She missed having little ones about the house.

  "Besides, I like children," Alan said. "Not little ones, don't know much about them. Never had a chance to deal with any. But once they're old enough to be useful, I enjoy having them around."

  "Never dull, at least," Matilda conceded.

  They climbed the hill and passed by the farm, sheltered on one side by the copse. Caroline looked around with interest, thought she could deduce the very spot on which Alan's fateful charge occurred. Right there, would be her choice, where the land levelled into a surface fit to joust on.


  "You read my mind." Alan shot her a rueful smile. "He fell hard, I'll grant that. Small wonder he took against me for it."

  "He was already against you." Roland studied Caroline's hands and seat. "How are you getting on?"

  "Very well, thank you."

  "Fancy a gallop?"

  Her fingers tightened on the reins. "Absolutely not."

  "A feeble showing," Roland told Matilda. "I'll have to give him to the squires after all. Poor beast."

  "I'm not the most courageous," Caroline admitted, shamefaced. "Forgive me."

  "You and Leofe can hide away in a mouse-hole somewhere," Roland said comfortably, "while the rest of us see to the fighting. I won't think the worse of you for it."

  Caroline found she couldn't resent those words, even though she probably should. The cheerful way in which he spoke just made her laugh. "I take it Leofe is not the boldest rider in the world."

  "Can't really fault her technique," Matilda said. "But she's timid."

  "Some people are," Alan pointed out. "Granted, it's a deep flaw in a man." He looked a little sorry for it, Caroline thought. As if he'd rather spend his life in less dangerous pursuits.

  "She's brave," Roland said. "In her way. But rather more cautious than usual these days, for obvious reasons. And right to be."

  "I don't have her excuse," Caroline admitted. "A short gallop, then, perhaps. Not too fast."

  "A gallop at a walk," Roland teased. "That should be within our powers."

  "Ignore him." Alan rode up close beside Caroline. "He makes a sport of annoying people."

  "I'm not annoyed," Caroline said truthfully. "He seems kind."

  She had her gallop, at a stately pace that satisfied her entirely, along the ridge and over towards the settlement of those without. Here they paused, to admire the view and comment on whose colours were moving away, strung out along the lane that led southwards and into a haze than hung glinting over the distant river.

  "It's all over," Caroline said in a sorrowful tone. "The whole tournament. I wish it had lasted longer."

  "Come to the next one," Alan suggested. "As my wife."

  She smiled at him then, and gave him her hand. Watched as he raised it to his lips, then shivered anew at their touch. "Are you sure?"

  "Perfectly sure."

  So was she, really. It wasn't a mad passion such as poets wrote of, one that would made her cast away her life for misery. And why should she? This was her life, her happiness at stake -- and she wanted a man who spoke and listened to her as an equal, who liked her exactly as she was, who never demanded that she must change to suit his own ideas of what a woman should be.

  "We could walk," Alan suggested. "Here. If that would be more comfortable for you."

  It would, Caroline admitted. He'd chosen his spot well, to the lee of a bluff, with all the countryside spread out before them. She let him lift her down -- admired the strength in that lean body -- paused near him just to delight in the sense of being so close.

  His arms lay around her still. She smiled at him, they were almost level, eye to eye. Then leaned forward a little, sought the touch of those gentle lips against her own. Tasted him, all crisp fresh air and morning bread, and caught her breath as he hugged her close and deepened the kiss. Heat shot through her crotch and out into her belly and thighs, she pressed her body against his, let her hand travel up to his shoulders and pull him closer still.

  He broke the kiss then, slid his mouth down to her neck, and she shook at the touch of it there. Wanted it further down, over her breasts and belly and between her legs, wanted to join with him in a holy communion of the body.

  "I'll talk to your father," Alan murmured, his voice muffled against her throat. "He won't get a word in, believe me."

  Caroline laughed aloud in sheer delight. "You don't know him. Just let him tell you all about books and tourneys, and he'll think you the best of men."

  Alan straightened at that, cheeks flushed with desire, and held her gaze. "Yours is the only judgement I'll accept on that point -- and the only one I care for."

  She laid one hand on his cheek, caressed the fine outlines of his bones, felt the smoothness from a morning shave. "I think you are. The very best of men, and my own champion. Regardless of your fortunes on the battlefield."

  "That stings," Alan said, but he smiled with it. "I'll do all I can to win the prize next time, for you."

  "You've already won it." She kissed him again, thought of all the glorious moments of intimacy that lay before them. "I am your prize."

  Alan held her tight. "Then I ask for no other in the world."

  ***

  "A small manor nearby?" Charles viewed the young man with unaffected delight. "As it happens, yes, I do know of one. My friend over in the next valley -- he very kindly hosted those without -- has a small estate he wishes to part with, less than a day's ride from here. I would be happy to speak with him on your behalf."

  "I am deeply in your debt." Alan clasped Caroline's hand. "With your permission then, sir, we should like to be married as soon as possible."

  Here was a prize indeed, Charles reflected happily while beaming on the pair of them. A lad who fought like a lion on the tourney field, yet spoke soft in company and knew all Charles' favourite books off by heart, who wished to marry Caroline but had no plans to carry her away to the far ends of the earth. This was the very best of sons, more than anything Charles could have hoped for.

  "Marry her today," Charles said with grandiose approval. "This instant, if you like. Then we can settle down to a nice talk about Vegetius. I do not agree at all with your interpretation of -- "

  "Forgive me," Madeline said, rather tersely. "But I must enquire as to the state of your finances, young man. Do you have the means to support Caroline as befits a baron's daughter?"

  "Hardly a baron," Charles protested. "Besides, they have time before them. My dear, you forget how things were with us at first."

  "I appreciate your concern." Alan bowed deep to Madeline. "I am fortunate in having some wealth put by. Geoffrey can provide you with full details, if you wish."

  Madeline pursed her lips. "He did mention something on the subject this morning. During your ride." She shot Caroline a suspicious look. "How did you fare?"

  "Very well," Caroline replied with unusual cheer. Charles studied her more closely. Yes, it was there -- the flush of excitement, the secretive glitter in her eyes. The way she and Alan stood together, also: close side by side, as if longing for touches beyond the mere holding of hands.

  Here was a young woman in love. Which was great relief, Charles realised as tension drained from his shoulders. He'd always worried that his beloved daughter would not find a man who could match her. This one clearly did. And appreciated her, to judge by the glances of admiration as well as the patient deference to those who knew her best.

  "You do recognise," Charles said, testing the ground, "that she is a young lady who speaks her mind."

  "I like it," Alan said without hesitation. "I prefer to know exactly where things stand."

  "And that she has some questionable views on theology." Charles winced as Caroline shot him one of her looks.

  "They are not questionable in the least," Caroline declared. "No less a writer than -- "

  "Never mind about that," Madeline broke in, her tone sharp. "What connections do you bring to our family, young man?"

  Alan, undaunted, detailed his family connections, then added: "Of course, my friend Guillaume will be able to confirm all this. I believe he had the pleasure of your company this morning. If you are at all amenable, perhaps I might take the liberty of asking him to call again?"

  Shrewd, Charles thought, as Madeline blushed and her tone softened. Oh yes, this was a clever young man indeed. It would be a pleasure to debate with him.

  "I do intend to pursue my tournament career," Alan continued. "It is my hope that Caroline -- " another glance of admiration, and a surreptitious squeeze of her hand -- "will accompany me as my wife. If you coul
d be tempted to attend with us, it would be my very great pleasure to host a tourney at our own manor as soon as the purchase is complete. A select gathering -- private invitations only. One you need not fear to bring your younger daughters to."

  Charles experienced a moment of doubt. His skills at argument, not to mention chess, might need a little attention if he were to match them against these.

  But Madeline glowed. "Such a kind thought. Yes, that will be very suitable. Of course, we have some offers -- but these things are never settled in a hurry, are they?"

  "Indeed not," Alan agreed. "Then, if I may beg your indulgence, perhaps Caroline and I may be free to set a date for our wedding? I thought perhaps a month or two from now -- "

  "Do it today," Charles said, eager to make sure the chance didn't slip through his fingers. "I'm sure we can scare up some witnesses of repute, among the lords who have not yet departed."

  "Oh yes," Madeline said. "That would be entirely proper. Perhaps a dinner in hall with us today? It would not be so great an inconvenience for them to delay a little, for the sake of such an occasion."

  "You overwhelm me," Alan said, doing a creditable impression of a young man who hadn't even dreamt of charging down his chosen target. "With such a prize as this to claim -- " he kissed Caroline's hand -- "how can I do anything but accept, and with the deepest gratitude."

  Serpent, Charles thought, and barely stifled a laugh. This lad not only knew what he wanted, but knew exactly how to get it too.

  Such a son to welcome, and to show off to all their friends. Perhaps even to ride into battle with. Charles shifted from foot to foot, tested muscles long disused. He might indeed try his skills anew, at some small tourney not far away. See how much of the old blood and courage still lingered within his veins.

  It had taken years, and a great deal of grief and anxiety. But this Alan had been a son worth waiting for, in the end.

  "Well then," Charles said, beaming satisfaction. "Let us prepare for a wedding."

  ***

  Alan held perfectly still while the page arranged his cloak. With luck he made an impeccable figure: freshly bathed, dressed in crisp linen and carefully brushed wool, skin scented and teeth cleaned.