by Chuck Black
At the final moment, Triumph crossed over before Bavol’s horse, and Gavinaugh was able to strike a forceful blow upon Bavol’s breastplate that nearly sent him to the ground. Bavol cursed and recovered quickly. He positioned his horse to regain his right-side advantage, but Triumph instinctively repositioned himself for Gavinaugh’s advantage time and time again. Bavol’s frustration was obvious as he tried to engage Gavinaugh across his body. Gavinaugh took advantage of Triumph’s brilliant maneuvering and landed blow after blow upon Bavol.
At one point, Gavinaugh saw an opening in Bavol’s guard and brought a wide, powerful slice across his body. Bavol’s only response was to bring his sword up just in time to stop what would have been a deadly cut across his neck and chest. The clash was near the hilt and so strong, however, that Bavol’s sword broke in two. Bavol cursed again and threw the shattered remnants of his sword to the ground as he galloped to his squire to receive a new sword.
The thunder from the sky was replaced by the thunder of spectators pounding their feet upon the stone steps of the amphitheater. The sky began to break, letting spires of sunlight through the dark clouds.
Bavol turned from his squire and charged ferociously at Gavinaugh again, but this time he hesitated at the engagement and drove his horse right into Triumph. As the horses collided, Bavol lunged at Gavinaugh, and horses and men all fell to the ground in a heap of clashing armor and flailing hooves. Gavinaugh rolled away from the fracas, hoping that Triumph was all right. He began to stand, but out of the corner of his eye he caught the shadow of a deadly blade arching toward his head. He brought his sword into a protective position above and behind him in time to stop Bavol’s cut. Bavol recoiled and struck again, but Gavinaugh ducked, turned, and executed a quick and shallow thrust that penetrated Bavol’s thigh just above his plate armor. Gavinaugh then fully recovered to a standing defensive position.
Both men were breathing heavily. To Gavinaugh, Bavol looked angry and frustrated. The injury to Bavol’s thigh did not appear to hinder the man at all, however, and he attacked Gavinaugh in a steady advance of cuts and slices. Gavinaugh was momentarily taken by the strength of Bavol’s blows and tried to adjust. This knight was one of the best Gavinaugh had ever faced, and for a moment he wondered if he would survive the day. The crowd had worked itself into a near-frenzied state during the course of the fight, and Gavinaugh found it difficult to concentrate. Bavol’s energy and attack seemed endless as his blade pounded into Gavinaugh’s. One of Bavol’s cuts was so strong that it slammed into Gavinaugh’s sword and continued into his shoulder. His shoulder plate bore the brunt of the blow, but Bavol’s sword glanced off and hit his head just above his ear.
He could feel the blood oozing down his neck as he made a gallant effort to recover. The crowd shouted wildly. Gavinaugh continued his retreat from Bavol’s tireless attack, which put him up against one of the stone pillars. Bavol made a massive two-handed crosscut that crashed into Gavinaugh’s sword. Gavinaugh could not maintain his grip as his weapon tore loose from his hand. He stepped backward in retreat and tripped over a corner of the foundation block the pillar was set upon. Gavinaugh was lying on his back without his sword. The crowd quieted as Bavol covered him and raised his sword for the final deathblow.
Gavinaugh glanced toward Keanna, who was just below the seating for nobility. She had fallen to her knees and covered her face with her hands. All the kingdom seemed to stop, and the next moment stalled its arrival. Gavinaugh thought of the Prince and the compassion He had shown him. How foolish to end my mission in a way such as this! Gavinaugh saw Bavol’s sword descending from above in a two-handed plunge, but strangely, he was not afraid. His mind had transitioned to a state he had never experienced before.
The blade came down, and Gavinaugh rolled just far enough for it to miss its mark. He rolled back and grabbed on to the hilt of Bavol’s sword with his left hand. Bavol pulled his sword upward and away for another strike, but Gavinaugh held tightly to the hilt, using the movement to lift him from the ground. He was catapulted to a standing position and carried his momentum forward. He swung his right elbow forward with all his might into Bavol’s jaw, and the blow sent the man reeling backward. Gavinaugh made use of the time to recover his sword and faced Bavol once again.
“You have only prolonged your death!” Bavol shouted as he rubbed his jaw and prepared to attack again.
The cheering of the crowd was once again deafening, but this time Gavinaugh did not hear them. He had discovered the strength of the Prince, and there was no one who could strip him of that power. He took a swordsman’s stance that portrayed his renewed confidence and viewed the coming fight with anticipation.
Bavol attacked as before, but this time Gavinaugh did not retreat. His blade flew faster and more accurately than ever, and his domination in the fight was undeniable. He began a methodical advance and realized that he could take Bavol down in an instant—he was relying completely upon the training he had received from the Prince. He did not want to kill Bavol, but he knew that the man would not submit until his last breath.
Bavol’s countenance of assurance changed to one of desperation as he seemed to realize the shift of momentum in the fight.
Gavinaugh paused in his attack. “Yield, Sir Bavol, or you will surely die.”
The men were breathing heavily, and sweat ran down their faces and bodies. There was now more sun than shade, for the clouds in the sky were few.
“It is you who will die this day!” Bavol lunged forward and attacked, but Gavinaugh anticipated the move, deflected his cut, and plunged his sword through Bavol’s right arm. Bavol screamed but did not drop his sword. He transferred it to his left hand and attacked again. Gavinaugh defended and made a thrust into Bavol’s shoulder. Before long, Bavol was bleeding from multiple wounds, but he would not yield.
Bavol attempted a final weak attack, but Gavinaugh easily deflected the cut and quickly followed with a blow that Bavol could not defend. The swords collided and Bavol lost his grip. His sword flew from his hand, and Gavinaugh advanced to prevent him from recovering it. Bavol grabbed his right arm to staunch the blood flowing freely from the wound. There was no fight left in him. The crowd erupted into an ovation that did not subside.
Bavol fell to his knees before Gavinaugh. “You must kill me to end my shame,” he said weakly.
The crowd began to yell, “Death with honor!”
Gavinaugh turned to the seats of the nobility and held up his hand to quiet the people. After a moment, all were silent as they waited for Gavinaugh to finish the contest and become the champion of the Tournament of Lords.
“People of Thecia, why do you need the death of a man to make a champion victorious?” he shouted. He turned so as to talk to everyone in the amphitheater. “Let me tell you about the death of a Champion who made His Followers victorious! I fight for the Unknown Lord. You have ignorantly given honor to Him through the statue in the Court of the Lords, yet you do not know Him. I have seen Him and will testify before all of Arrethtrae that He is nobler than any lord in any land, for He is the Son of the King and the Prince of Arrethtrae. By Him was this kingdom established, and through Him this kingdom will be saved. He came to teach us of the King and of the Code, but for the truth He spoke, He was hung upon a tree. People, hear and believe this—He is now alive, for I have seen Him face-to-face, and there is none like Him in the entire kingdom.”
Gavinaugh turned and looked down at Bavol. “There is no shame in losing to the sword of the Prince. There is only shame in choosing not to follow Him.”
Bavol looked as though he were about to fall, for his wounds were beginning to overcome him. Gavinaugh motioned to Bavol’s squire just as the knight fell sideways. Gavinaugh grabbed him and gently laid him on the ground. His squire and two other men came to help.
Bavol looked into Gavinaugh’s face and grabbed his arm. “Tell me of the ways of the Unknown Lord that I may teach them to my people at Whighton.” Bavol’s words were strained.
“
I will, good knight, and you will have reward a thousand times that of this tournament!” he said, inspired by the heart of the man. He stood and allowed the other men to care for Bavol.
The Duke of Thecia rose from his chair. The tournament officials motioned for the crowd to hush again.
“Sir Gavinaugh of Chessington,” the duke said loudly. “Your words about the Unknown Lord are strange to us, but we cannot deny your skill or your victory this day. You are indeed champion of the Tournament of Lords!”
The crowd gave a riotous ovation that could not be easily quieted. After some time, the duke spoke again.
“Come and choose a lady from the nobility upon which to bestow the honor of Lady of the Tournament of Lords.”
The duke motioned to the ladies seated about him. There were many beautiful and dignified ladies. Those who had received such an honor before wore pendants signifying such. The master tournament official came and guided Gavinaugh up one of the staircases and onto the ceremonial platform. The duke presented him with a pendant and a royal robe that he was to bequeath to the chosen lady. The pendant was bright gold with a ruby set amid intricate inlays. The robe was as exquisite a garment as Gavinaugh had ever seen, made of red velvet with white lace edgings. The collar was cream colored silk that shined like the moon off the still Crimson River.
Gavinaugh looked into the faces of the women. Some sat with a dignified look of propriety, while others seemed to beg with their eyes to be chosen. Two nights before the tournament began, there had been a ball where the knights and ladies were to become acquainted, but Gavinaugh’s late arrival and selection for the tournament had caused him to miss the affair. He was thankful, for being in the presence of the Thecian nobility felt like being back in the world of the Noble Knights. He looked out into the faces of the common people and thought of the Prince. The Prince had not chosen the Noble Knights; He had chosen peasants. And Gavinaugh had seen more nobility in the hearts of those peasants than he had ever seen in the upper estates. And beyond that, the Prince had now chosen the Outdwellers since the people of Chessington had rejected Him.
Gavinaugh folded the robe over his right arm and held the pendant in his hand. He walked down the staircase away from the nobility.
“Sir Gavinaugh, you must choose a lady,” the duke said sternly.
Gavinaugh paused midway down the staircase. “I shall, good sir.”
The crowd began to murmur. They had never seen a knight so boldly cast aside the traditions of men.
Gavinaugh continued down the staircase and walked toward Keanna. As he approached, she stepped aside to let him pass, but he did not pass by. He faced her and looked into her eyes—eyes filled with wonder and puzzlement. He held out his left arm for her, but she backed away, shaking her head.
“Keanna, in the eyes of the King we are all equal—there is neither nobleman nor peasant. What He sees are people who need a Deliverer. When we accept that, we become royalty, like His Son. You may consider yourself a peasant, but the King sees a princess … and so do I.”
Keanna stared blankly at Gavinaugh and then lowered her head. Since he had never expressed his feelings to her before, he wondered if such words might rekindle the animosity she had previously felt for him. She looked back up at him, and he saw that her eyes were moist. She slowly took his arm, and they proceeded up the staircase. There was great commotion in the crowd. On the platform, Gavinaugh took the royal robe and placed it upon Keanna’s shoulders. He then fastened the pendant about her neck. She turned to face Gavinaugh, and he was taken once again with her beauty.
Gavinaugh addressed the awestruck crowd. “The Prince I spoke of is coming again to rule in honor and in truth. Open your eyes and believe, for He calls each of you, whether noble or peasant. He cares not of the stature of a man but of the condition of his heart. All are equal in the eyes of the Prince!”
Gavinaugh turned to face Keanna, bowed deeply to her, and then proclaimed, “I present to you, Lady Keanna of Arrethtrae … Lady of the Tournament of Lords!”
The applause was slow to begin, but as it started with the common people, it spread quickly. Within a few moments, there was an ovation mixed with shouts that shook the stadium. Even the nobility eventually joined, for they looked foolish to remain still.
Gavinaugh held his hand out to Keanna, and she slipped her hand in his. Though soiled by the dust of the arena, the warmth of his touch seemed to flow up her arm and fill her heart. She could no longer deny the strong feelings she had for him. When Gavinaugh nearly died during the battle against Bavol, she felt as though she would die herself. The feelings she had suppressed were laid bare by the threat of his death, and her heart pleaded with the King to save him. Now, in the presence of twenty-five thousand, he had lifted her from peasantry to nobility in an instant.
The roar of the crowd continued to fill the amphitheater, and Keanna didn’t know how to respond to such a thing. At first she was horribly embarrassed and wanted to disappear, but the response from the crowd was overwhelming, and soon she could not help the tears that spilled onto her cheeks as she looked about the amphitheater. The tears she shed watered the seeds of forgiveness in her heart. They cast the beast of vengeance away. They healed the wounds of anguish. They welcomed the hope of love. Lady Keanna had arrived, and it was all because of the Prince.
Gavinaugh held her hand and turned her to face the people. Her hand felt delicate in his, and he sensed no hurry from her to abandon his touch. They descended the stairs, and he called for Triumph. He readied himself to lift her onto Triumph’s back, but she hesitated and looked at him. She smiled through her tears, reached up, and gently kissed his cheek. He felt forgiven all over again and thought his heart might leap from his chest. He lifted her onto Triumph and then walked beside her, leading Triumph toward the north gate. All the while, the cheers of the crowd did not diminish.
This Tournament of Lords would not be easily forgotten by the people of Thecia, for a Knight of the Prince had come to proclaim His work among the Outdwellers and bring true nobility within reach of the common people.
OLD MASTER
Garamond became strong in the ways of the Code, and his heart embraced the teachings of the Prince with great fervor. His home became a haven for the training of other Knights of the Prince. After many weeks there, teaching and training the new recruits, Gavinaugh called for Weston, Sandon, and Keanna.
“It is time to return to Chessington,” Gavinaugh said.
Sandon and Keanna did not fully understand what this meant, but Weston did.
“That is not wise, Gavinaugh,” he said. “You know that Kifus and the Noble Knights would love nothing better than for you to go to Chessington. At Cresthaven, I met with Sir Nias, and he assured me that Kifus’s desire to find you is greater than ever, especially since your fame is spreading throughout the kingdom. If you go to Chessington, you can expect to hang.”
Weston spoke more strongly than Gavinaugh had ever heard, and Sandon and Keanna were obviously disturbed by his words.
“I appreciate your concern, Weston, but you cannot persuade me otherwise. I must meet with our fellow knights there, and if perchance I should meet with Kifus, then so be it. His sword is no more deadly than any others we have faced. The Prince will be with us.”
Weston did not look pleased, and although there was great division in their thinking, the three Knights of the Prince and Keanna prepared for their journey to the center of the kingdom … Chessington!
On the day of their departure, many difficult farewells were made, especially the one with Julian.
“It is an honor to have served you, Sir Gavinaugh,” Julian said stoically, trying to hide the quiver in his voice.
Gavinaugh knelt down and placed a hand on the lad’s shoulder.
“The honor is mine, young knight,” Gavinaugh said and gazed deeply into the bright eyes of the boy. “And I am as certain as the sunrise that we will one day hear of the mighty deeds of a gallant knight who serves the Prince with his whole h
eart … Arrethtrae awaits you, Sir Julian, Knight of the Prince!”
Julian’s face beamed his appreciation, and he threw his arms around Gavinaugh’s neck. Gavinaugh returned the embrace until Julian seemed to sense a need to be more professional again. He retreated a step and bowed. Gavinaugh stood and smiled broadly at the lad, then allowed the others a chance to say farewell.
After many days of traveling, they came to the city of Chessington by night and met with Cedric, William, Rob, Barrett, and many other mighty Knights of the Prince. For days they shared their tales of adventure and how the Prince and His Silent Warriors had protected and guided them every step of the way.
Gavinaugh was overjoyed to share how the Prince was transforming lives throughout the kingdom. The havens and the Knights of the Prince were multiplying and growing stronger in many cities, and Gavinaugh felt replenished by the spirit of knightly brotherhood. Though the kingdom seemed to groan at the silent war that raged for its future, there was a Camelot in the hearts of the knights that could not be destroyed even if Lucius unleashed his entire arsenal of evil upon them. They all felt humbled to have been called by the Prince for such a time as this. From the lowest pauper to the wealthiest nobleman, all were brothers in the army of the Prince. As the training of the knights continued, the needs of all were met by the abundance of many.
Gavinaugh remained in Chessington with the knights for many weeks. Weston returned to Cresthaven to his family, and Keanna and Sandon found opportunities to serve the Followers in many ways during their stay.
Gavinaugh sensed an entirely different atmosphere in the streets of Chessington. At first he thought perhaps it was his dramatic change of perspective, but eventually he came to realize that this was not the case. The arrival of the Prince had initiated a transformation of social and political structure that the Noble Knights could not stop, though they desperately fought to do so. Gavinaugh had felt it when he was a Noble Knight seeking to destroy the Followers, and now it became obvious to him what it was. The order of the Noble Knights was dying. It was early, like the nagging, deep cough of a man who hasn’t yet realized that he has contracted a deadly disease, but it was an eventuality.