by Chuck Black
The tournament had forced the silent war within her heart to the forefront of her mind. Deep down she began to understand that she could not hope for his demise, for even the smallest seeds of love had power over the worst of dragons. Her insistence on being Gavinaugh’s squire had surprised not only her companions, but herself as well, for the words had passed her lips as though a part of her heart was ruling her tongue—a part that whispered, He truly cares for you.
If she could somehow get beyond the clutches of pain and vengeance, she wondered if Gavinaugh’s kindness toward her was purely out of remorse and nothing more. She dared not let her heart wander into the fairy tale of love, for she was just a peasant and Gavinaugh had been and always would be a gallant knight.
How could one of his stature ever have feelings for one such as me? she wondered. Such thoughts only added to her confusion and conflict. The only response she could give to Gavinaugh for his attempts at showing her kindness was indifference. Anything else might bring her more pain.
The Tournament of Lords was presided over by the Duke of Thecia and always began with a procession of the thirty-two participating knights riding about the periphery of the amphitheater. Since Gavinaugh was a participant, Weston and Sandon were given respectable seats near the nobility. The nobility seating was near the ground level, distinguishable by double staircases to the left and right of the ceremonial platform. This gave access to the arena for tournament presentations. Vibrant banners decorated the seating area. The duke, along with the marquises, earls, viscounts, barons, and other noblemen and their ladies, were all seated there.
The knights marshaled themselves in an outer court before entering the amphitheater. Keanna made some final adjustments to Triumph’s saddle and straightened the colorful horse blanket. Gavinaugh prepared to mount, and Keanna readied the stirrup. He paused and looked at her. He did not understand why she had volunteered to serve as his squire, but he was glad for it. As a Noble Knight, he would not have even dared consider Keanna anything more than just a peasant girl, but here on the other side of his encounter with the Prince, he found exhilarating freedom from such foolishness.
He thought of Leisel in Chessington. According to the estates of the kingdom, she would be an acceptable woman for a knight such as him to court, but it was Keanna who stirred powerful feelings of love in him. For this reason he was all the more grateful for the ways of the Prince. It was the unreachable true nobility of the Prince that demolished the foolishness of social estates among men in Arrethtrae, for the height of a bright star in the heavens looks the same whether gazed upon from a mountain or a valley.
When he did not directly mount Triumph, Keanna looked up at him.
“Keanna … I …,” Gavinaugh wanted desperately to share his feelings for her, but he could not find the words. “I am grateful and honored to have you by my side today.”
She lowered her head, but he gently lifted up her chin so he could see her eyes.
“You are not my servant … you are my friend,” he said.
Keanna’s usual countenance of indifference softened, and her eyes seemed to beckon him. Without a single word from her lips, she had completely captured his heart, and he wondered if she even knew it.
Gavinaugh broke the moment for fear of saying something foolish and mounted Triumph. He adjusted his armor, and Keanna handed the reins to him.
“Please don’t die today, Sir Gavinaugh,” she said quickly and then turned to take her position next to Triumph.
“Knights … forward!” came the command from the front.
The squires each walked beside their mounted knights, who were all arrayed in gleaming armor. Sir Bavol led the procession through an arched gateway to the cheers of thousands of spectators and seemed to revel in the adoration of the crowd. Gavinaugh could hear trumpets ahead heralding the knights’ arrival into the arena. He and Keanna were last in the procession, and as they entered, they were amazed at the size of the structure and at the throng of people. Nearly every seat was filled, and Gavinaugh figured over twenty thousand spectators must be present. The bowl shape of the amphitheater captured the voices and added to each subsequent cheer until the noise was constant and nearly deafening. The knights and squires ahead waved to the crowd as their horses pranced about in formation. Triumph seemed to sense the occasion. He held his head high, and his gait became the perfect prance of a show horse.
“They’ve got nothing on you, Triumph,” Keanna said as they watched the riders and horses ahead.
When the procession finished, names were drawn to match opponents. Gavinaugh was pitted against Sir Garamond of Thecia. Theirs would be the final contest of the day. Gavinaugh beckoned Julian. “What do you know of Sir Garamond?” he asked the Thecian lad.
Julian looked quite somber. “He is one of the best in the tournament. It is believed that if any knight could beat Sir Bavol, it would be Sir Garamond.”
Keanna, overhearing, looked worried.
Soon the first round of fighting began. Gavinaugh was well acquainted with the gruesome consequences of warfare, but the deaths and injuries that resulted from these duels were senseless, and he could hardly bear to watch. The crowd’s cheering made it even worse. He forced himself to watch Sir Bavol’s fight, for he presumed he might eventually face him. The crowd cheered loudly for Bavol, and it was clear that he was a favorite. Sir Bavol was indeed a skilled knight, and Gavinaugh recognized the dauntless maneuvers of a man who had tasted real battle many times before. If he should have to face this man, the challenge would be great.
By late afternoon, all of the contests had been fought except Gavinaugh’s. Ten men had been killed, and five others were severely wounded. Gavinaugh and Sir Garamond rode from the gates at the opposite ends of the arena through large, ornate stone pillars that extended partway into the fighting area. They turned to salute the duke and the rest of the nobility as the trumpets blew. The herald announced the knights.
“Sir Garamond of Thecia fights to honor Lord Rowland of the Eastern Kingdom!”
The crowd roared with applause and shouts.
“Sir Gavinaugh of Chessington fights to honor”—the herald paused and the crowd hushed to silence—“the Unknown Lord of the Kingdom Beyond!”
A rumble of exclamation and surprise filled the amphitheater. The men dismounted, removed their helmets, and saluted each other. Their squires came to take their horses and helmets. As Gavinaugh handed the reins to Keanna, she looked at him with fear in her eyes.
“It will be all right,” he said calmly. She hesitated just a moment and then guided Triumph to the edge of the arena.
The men faced each other, and Gavinaugh looked upon Sir Garamond for the first time. The man’s eyes were set like stones in a mighty wall. His jaw was square and his stance powerful. He drew his sword and Gavinaugh followed.
Garamond attacked first, and Gavinaugh countered with a masterful combination. The men exchanged a number of reserved attacks, and Gavinaugh came to admire Garamond’s tactics, for they closely matched his own. The exchanges slowly became more and more intense, as did the cheers of the crowd. Each time Garamond advanced, the crowd roared their approval. Each time Gavinaugh advanced, moans of disapproval filled the air.
Garamond was indeed an extremely skilled swordsman, and Gavinaugh suspected that he had not yet seen the man’s best. Gavinaugh countered a slice and initiated a steady combination of power and speed that put Garamond in retreat as their blades of steel collided time after time. It was aggressive but certainly not indicative of Gavinaugh’s full reserve of skill. Gavinaugh halted his attack and looked into his opponent’s eyes, questioning the man’s level of confidence. Garamond’s eyes had widened slightly, and Gavinaugh could sense his realization that he was facing something he had never faced before.
Garamond did not hesitate long, however, and charged full ahead with a set of cuts and slices that was a challenge for Gavinaugh to thwart. He countered and retreated, but then held his ground. The distance between them
closed. Garamond brought a cut from the left. Gavinaugh blocked it, spun, and brought a slice across Garamond’s chest that tore into his armor. He stumbled backward, and Gavinaugh executed a thrust that passed between Garamond’s chest and right arm. The men were nearly chest to chest, and for an instant they locked eyes. Garamond’s expression was one of wonder, for Gavinaugh had executed his thrust purposefully off target to miss the man’s chest.
“Your fight is noble. The Unknown Lord would be honored,” Gavinaugh said.
The men parted and Garamond seemed momentarily stunned.
“Garamond … Garamond … Garamond …” The crowd began to chant, and Garamond’s face was set once again to the fight.
Garamond exploded with such massive blows and speed that Gavinaugh knew they were the extent of all he had. Gavinaugh labored to quell the attack. In the midst of the advance, he feigned retreat, ducked beneath a high cut, predicted Garamond’s next move, and brought a powerful counterblow that nearly knocked Garamond’s sword from his grip.
In that moment, the euphoria of the crowd dwindled to exclamations of surprise as Gavinaugh unleashed a volley of rapid blows that Garamond could not repel. Garamond’s countenance became as one who had awakened a sleeping tiger. His retreat was inevitable as he narrowly deflected slice after slice. In one massive, circling cut, Gavinaugh’s blade blasted into Garamond’s and sent his sword flying many paces away. He fell backward and onto the ground, exhausted and defeated. Gavinaugh quickly covered Garamond and stood over him with his sword raised high for the final thrust. The crowd fell silent as they realized that one of their best had been defeated by an unknown knight fighting for the Unknown Lord. It was a historical event that brought every spectator in the stadium to his feet, including the Duke of Thecia.
“Death with honor!” shouted various people from the crowd until the stadium reverberated with the chant.
Gavinaugh scanned the stadium and then looked deep into Garamond’s eyes. The man closed his eyes and prepared for his final breath. Gavinaugh raised his sword a little higher and then plunged the gleaming steel blade deep into the soil beside Garamond’s chest.
The crowd fell into an eerie silence once again. Garamond opened his eyes.
“Sir Gavinaugh of Chessington!” the master tournament official called out. “You must either kill or disable your opponent to advance in the tournament. If you do not, you forfeit your right in the next round.”
Gavinaugh pulled his sword from the ground and held it before him.
“Nobility and citizens of Thecia!” Gavinaugh called loudly for all to hear. “Sir Garamond fought a noble and honorable fight. His death would serve no purpose. Never before has a knight fought for the Unknown Lord in your tournament and lived. This same Lord requires of me to spare this man’s life. If that means I don’t advance, then so be it, for I will honor my Lord before you. If you should choose to eliminate me from the tournament, let it be known that the victor of your tournament will not have defeated the knight who fights for the Unknown Lord, and your champion will be no champion at all!”
A moment of uncertainty flashed across the official’s face, and the murmurings of the crowd grew in volume. Another official came to talk with the first. A moment later they ascended the staircases to the nobility and conferred with the Duke of Thecia.
In the commotion, Gavinaugh knelt down to his fallen opponent and grabbed his hand.
“Rise up, Sir Garamond, and do not be ashamed. The Prince of Arrethtrae has need of you in life much more so than in death,” Gavinaugh said. He lifted Garamond from the arena floor, and the man stared at him in astonishment.
“No matter the outcome of this day, Sir Gavinaugh, know that I will serve you as my liege … I so swear!” Garamond spoke with passion and knelt before him.
“No, Garamond. Rise up and do not serve me. Serve the Prince of this kingdom, who came to save us all,” Gavinaugh said as he lifted Garamond once more to his feet.
“Tell me who this Prince is that deserves the devotion of a knight as noble as you, and I shall follow Him to the ends of the kingdom.”
Gavinaugh smiled and placed his hand on Garamond’s shoulder. “That I shall, for His kingdom is reserved for hearts such as yours, my friend.”
“Gavinaugh of Chessington!” shouted the tournament official. The crowd hushed to hear the judgment of the duke.
“By the grace of the Duke of Thecia and in honor of the Unknown Lord, you are allowed to advance. Any further infractions of tournament rules, however, will not be tolerated!”
The crowd roared their approval, and the ovation did not diminish for a long while.
Gavinaugh bowed to the duke to show his appreciation. The squires returned with their steeds, and the two men and their escorts exited the amphitheater.
Garamond invited Gavinaugh, Weston, Sandon, Keanna, and Julian to dine with him that evening at his manor. After an elaborate meal of the finest foods Thecia had to offer, Gavinaugh shared the story of the Prince with Garamond. He listened intently and seemed nearly overwhelmed by the words.
“I have searched the kingdom over for a cause noble enough to dedicate my life to and found nothing worthy. These words you speak ignite a fire in my heart that the Great Sea itself could not quench. From this day forward I will serve this Prince you speak of and the King who reigns from a distant land.”
Gavinaugh knighted Garamond as a Knight of the Prince, and another companion soul joined the army of the Prince.
Garamond insisted that his new friends stay with him while in Thecia, for his manor was large and had many rooms. He shared all that he owned with them, as well as his knowledge of the knights Gavinaugh would face in the days to come. They were all very grateful.
The following day, Gavinaugh faced his next opponent, and the fight was over quickly, for his skill far surpassed that of the other knight. Once again he refused to kill him, and the officials had a mind to eliminate him. By now, however, Gavinaugh had become a favorite of the crowd, and the influence of their cheers was too much to overcome, so he was allowed to advance without even a warning.
Each day Gavinaugh fought and was victorious until only one knight remained for him to defeat—Sir Bavol of Whighton.
Word of the mighty Sir Gavinaugh, who fought for the Unknown Lord, had spread not only through all of Thecia, but throughout the surrounding regions. On the last day of the tournament, the seats, the aisles, and the gates were all crowded with bystanders hoping to see the final contest. Distant thunder rumbled as the sky threatened to release its rain from the dark clouds above, but Thecia and its citizens did not care—the excitement of this event overshadowed the discomforts of any possible inclement weather.
Under the north gate to the amphitheater, Weston, Sandon, Garamond, Keanna, and Julian readied Gavinaugh and Triumph both, for the final duel was to be fought on horseback.
“I have watched Sir Bavol for two years and dared not enter the tournament before now because of him,” Garamond said as he secured Gavinaugh’s breastplate. “He is not only very skilled, but deceptive besides. The mounted duel is his forte, and you will be at a disadvantage since you are left-handed.”
Gavinaugh’s five friends stood before him, and he could read the concern on each of their faces. He smiled broadly at them all.
“What do you find so humorous, Gavinaugh?” Weston asked, a bit perturbed.
“I have never had so much fuss over me in all of my days as a knight,” he said with a laugh as he mounted Triumph. “I think I shall have to find more tournaments to fight in.” His humor seemed to ease the tension.
“May the Lords of—” Garamond stopped himself. “May the Prince be with you!”
“And with you!” Gavinaugh replied.
Weston, Sandon, and Garamond made their way to the seats that were reserved for them near the nobility as Keanna walked beside Gavinaugh into the amphitheater at the sound of the trumpets and to the deafening roar of twenty-five thousand cheering spectators.
&nbs
p; Bavol entered from the south gate and raised his hand to accept the adoration of thousands. He was a powerful-looking knight with jet-black hair and a beard to match. His steed was two hands taller than Triumph, which added to his dominating stature. When Gavinaugh saw that many were shouting his own name, he stopped Triumph near the towering stone pillars and began to dismount.
“What are you doing?” Keanna asked, alarmed at his actions.
He continued to dismount. “It is wrong for these people to lift any man other than the Prince up like this,” he replied, walking beside Keanna to the center of the arena.
Along the way, Keanna kept looking over at Gavinaugh, as though she could hardly believe he would do such a thing.
At the arena center, Gavinaugh left Triumph and walked Keanna to the side of the arena, and the cheers of the crowd subsided into a rumble of muttered conversations.
“Thank you for all you have done to help me over the past few days,” Gavinaugh said.
Keanna opened her mouth to speak but could not form any words. The crowd hushed as Gavinaugh bowed to her and then returned to Triumph. The reaction from the people and the nobility was clearly one of confusion and amazement.
When Gavinaugh reached his steed, he mounted and prepared for the fight. The herald announced the knights, and they separated for their mounted passes. Each man drew his sword, and the trumpet sounded.
The men charged full speed toward one another, their gleaming blades before them. Gavinaugh could feel his mighty Triumph pounding the ground beneath but could not hear it, for the shouts of the crowd flooded the amphitheater and overwhelmed all other sounds. Since the injury to his right arm years before, Gavinaugh hadn’t been in battle with Triumph and so didn’t know how the horse would respond to his being left-handed. But the steed seemed to understand his limitation.