by Lisa Shea
Lucia almost didn’t notice when Stephen walked into the clearing, leading his own horse. His eyes were dark and troubled. He didn’t speak to her, or even look over. Instead, he quietly tied up Prince and sat down by the edge of the river, gazing down its length with a furrowed brow.
Lucia felt an overwhelming desire to talk with him, to share in his concerns, but each time she began to speak, she reminded herself sternly that it was not her place to intrude. Stephen had Anna, and if support were to be given, Anna should be the one to provide it. Lucia instructed herself firmly that if she should be encouraging anyone, it should by rights be Ian.
Frustrated, Lucia leaned back against a stump and closed her eyes. She couldn’t bring herself to get up, to leave Stephen and ride away. If she shouldn’t speak, then she would remain and be silent. She watched the stream flowing through the clearing, lending him strength with her presence.
The two passed the afternoon within a stone’s throw of each other, each staring at the moving water, lost in their own thoughts.
* * *
The next day brought the swirls of a short-lived snowstorm. The castle spent the daylight hours pent up indoors, which caused numerous discussions and side bets to flourish about the evening’s festivities. Lucia spent some time in the sewing room, but there was no mending to be done today. It seemed that every conversation that flooded the hallways involved who was better between the two men. Ian had youth and training on his side. Stephen had the knowledge of real battle, and the experience of death. This was only a battle to first touch, though. Would Stephen’s need to hold back from injury hinder him?
At first, Lucia enjoyed the conversations. She’d been in enough matches to appreciate the skill involved. But always it came down to Stephen fighting Ian, and she found she could not keep her emotions separate from the contest.
Rather than reveal her concerns, she bowed out of the discussion and retreated to her room. She wanted to go to Stephen and help him talk through the options - but that was not her place. She knew she should go to Ian, but she could not bring herself to do that, either. Instead she stayed alone in her room, eating a simple lunch at the table, then pacing before the fireplace.
It seemed a heartbeat before the hour had arrived.
When Lucia reached the main hall, the room was echoing with loud voices, brightly dressed people, and blazing fires in the hearths. The tables had been cleared away, with the chairs placed against the back walls for the older spectators to rest on. Most people in the hall stood holding crusts of bread or flagons of wine. It appeared the entire town had turned out for the event, looking for an exciting evening with friends.
Lucia soon found herself standing with Anna and the other women at one end of the hall. A goblet of mead was pressed into her hand, but she did not drink. Fighting required the sharpest of senses, and despite the faire-like atmosphere she could not look on this as a frivolity. Even the most casual of bouts held an element of risk. In this case, Ian would be out to prove his worth, and Stephen ... what would Stephen want to prove? That he should lead the forces as he was the best qualified to oversee the protection of the lands? Would he deliberately drop his guard to give Ian the advantage? Playing those sorts of games sometimes got one hurt ... or worse.
Lord Edmund came out with Hector by his side. The two men eased into their chairs in the center of one wall. The crowd’s murmuring grew in volume as they sensed the approaching event.
In a few moments a cheer went up as Stephen and Ian entered the room from opposite ends of the hall. Ian wore his finest armor, freshly gleaming from an application of oil. The intricate engraving and metalwork was quite impressive. Stephen’s leather armor was simple and well-worn; it appeared quite plain by comparison. The two men approached Lord Edmund and knelt at his feet. Lord Edmund put one hand on each man’s head and wished both luck.
To Lucia’s shock, both men then turned and walked straight toward her and Anna. In the past, she had been treated as ‘one of the soldiers’, and the part of a female watcher had never occurred to her.
The men would be looking for favors to carry with them, and she was now the giver of such a favor.
She looked over in panic at Anna, who was dramatically drawing a white handkerchief from her sleeve. Lucia reached into her own sleeve and she sagged with relief when she found she also carried such a handkerchief. She would have felt very foolish to be “lacking” in such a customary female item.
Still, her heart caught in her throat as the two men stood before them. Following Anna’s lead, she went through the motions of tying her own favor around Ian’s upper arm. Despite her best efforts, Lucia was acutely aware of Anna’s interactions with Stephen - of Anna’s hands moving around Stephen’s strong muscles, of Stephen looking down at Anna with the eyes she could still see in her dreams.
When Anna leant forward to give Stephen a kiss on the cheek, it seemed to Lucia to last an eternity. Lucia felt the eyes of the crowd upon her and likewise gave Ian a gentle kiss on the cheek. Although she tried hard to mimic Anna, she found that she felt only sisterly affection for this young man before her. When Lucia drew back, she was surprised by the fierce shine in Ian’s eyes and realized quickly that he had a different reaction to the kiss. In her own way, she had just prodded him on to victory in her name.
She mustered a smile to hide her growing confusion. She willed herself not to look at Stephen, not in front of all of these people. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that he was focusing firmly on Anna and formally bowing to her. She saw the mixed emotions in his face.
It came to her with sudden clarity. He had not decided on a course of action. Even now he had not decided if he should throw the fight or not.
Ian turned to walk to the center of the stage area and raised his hands to wave at the well-wishers and friends that surrounded him. The crowd roared its approval, and all eyes focused on Ian. Several women fluttered their handkerchiefs at him and offered him a second or third favor to carry. Anna became distracted by a passing page who was distributing chalices of wine.
Lucia saw her only chance to speak to Stephen. Without thinking she stepped toward him. She spoke in a rushed whisper to draw as little attention to them as she could. “Our survival must take precedence over one man’s ego,” she pleaded in a quick breath, pressing his right arm with her fingers as she spoke. Then she continued walking past him as if she was simply moving across the room for a better view of the event.
When she raised her eyes again to look at Stephen, he was standing across from Ian. Both men had their right hands on their hilts, looking to Lord Edmund for a signal. Lucia saw that Stephen now had a firm look of conviction in his eyes. His left hand strayed briefly to touch his right arm where she’d held him. She blushed crimson. She hoped desperately that her impulsive comment to Stephen had not made the situation worse.
Lord Edmund, elegantly resplendent in a richly embroidered outfit of burgundy and gold, stood and waited for the crowd to settle down. “Friends and neighbors,” he called out in a booming voice. “We have before us two men we all know well. Ian and Stephen have both proven their worth many times over. Both have an equal right to lead the troops in the coming days.”
He took a deep breath to give a dramatic pause, and then continued. “Tonight we shall have a friendly competition between the two. The first man to land three touches on the other will have the honor of leading our troops into battle. There shall be no harm caused here - we need every man for the coming conflicts. Hector will serve as judge.” Lord Edmund paused again. “Ian, Stephen, fight with honor.”
Lord Edmund waved both hands open, and sat down with a flourish. Hector stood and moved to the edge of the open area, accepting from a servant a staff with which to signal defeats and victories. Ian and Stephen turned to face each other, and Lucia found the differences between the two men to be spellbinding. Ian was cocky, sure of himself, bouncing on the balls of his feet. His bow to Stephen was quick, yet full of flair. He wanted to get
going, eager to prove his worth and relish the victory feast.
Lucia’s eyes moved to Stephen. He waited with calm awareness. Gone was the uncertainty she had sensed before. He bowed somberly to his younger friend as he prepared for the test of skills.
Hector held the staff between the two men, and both drew their swords with practiced ease. The hiss of metal sounded loudly in the quiet hush of the hall. The men waited, Ian impatiently, Stephen with cool preparedness. Hector glanced at both men one final time, then with a sudden motion he pulled the staff away.
“Begin!”
Lucia’s heart thudded with nervous anticipation and she strained forward to watch.
Immediately Ian leapt in for the attack. His moves were swift and sure, apparently with the aim to decide this conflict quickly. Lucia watched the two as she might a chess match, tracking Stephen’s slow, steady responses to Ian’s impetuous lunges. She saw Ian open his flank when he went for a high strike, and bit her tongue to keep herself from calling out. She wondered in a flash whether she would have shouted to alert Ian of the danger – or to let Stephen know of the opportunity.
Stephen saw the advantage in a glance and swatted Ian’s ribs with the flat of his sword while Ian moved past him.
Hector’s call carried across the room. “A touch!”
The crowd cheered with excitement, and Ian moved back, surly. Judging by the look on his face, he hadn’t even seen the hit coming. Stephen remained focused and calm. The evening had barely begun.
Anna giggled beside her, but nothing existed in Lucia’s world except those two men and the swords they held. To Anna, this was a playful joust, a game between boys. Lucia felt much differently - she had seen enough combats go afoul to be on edge. There was danger simply when two friends played at a fight without anything at stake. In this very public contest there was Ian’s ego and Stephen’s protection of the town. Lucia had no doubt that the Grays were a strong threat - and that it would take Stephen’s skill to keep them at bay. She wondered if the people around her drinking and carrying on knew how much was riding on the outcome of this match.
Hector moved in again to draw up his staff, and suddenly the two men were in motion.
Lucia watched their moves, instinctively categorizing each one. Duck. Parry. Swing, block. She had fought for enough years to feel the motion coming before a man swung the sword. Ian’s eyes were bright, looking for the sequence he’d been taught by his instructors. Stephen’s eyes were deep and steady, watching Ian’s hands and eyes, and gauging what Ian would do next. Ian was halfway through an eight-part sequence when Stephen came in under his sword arm and tagged him on the side.
Hector called out loudly. “A hit! Two for Stephen!” The applause of the bystanders echoed around the room.
Ian’s eyes flashed with furious anger, and Lucia winced as he almost took a step forward to call out a retort to Stephen. It was clear from his tensely coiled body language that he felt Stephen’s interruption of his routine was unfair.
Lucia took in the roiling anger in Ian’s eyes and suddenly remembered her own position as favor-giver. Perhaps she could use her power to some advantage here, to diffuse the situation. “A break,” she called out in a voice forced to be merry. She walked with a smile toward Ian, holding out the goblet of wine with both hands. She saw with pleasure that her gambit had worked - Ian momentarily forgot the fight and smiled down at her instead. His hands folded over hers as she handed the goblet to him, and she willed herself not to flinch or draw away. She smiled warmly up at Ian as he drank.
“It does not matter to me who wins this play battle, Ian,” she cooed softly, so that none could overhear. “You will always be the hero who saved me in the woods. That is all that matters.” To her relief, she saw Ian’s eyes widen and a smile overtake him. If she could help Ian salvage his ego, perhaps the match would finish without incident. “Remember,” she added gently, whispering in his ear. “It is not he who is up high on the walls that matters in a battle. It is he who does the actual work. Your true colors might shine most brightly from the trenches, rather than hiding on the parapets.”
She touched his hand tenderly as he gave the goblet back to her. To her left, she saw Anna giggling up to Stephen, and her resolve hardened. If Ian was going to lose in front of his community, at least he could lose with pride and have other victories to parade. Lucia handed her wine to a nearby page, leant forward and kissed Ian full on the mouth. Ian only hesitated a moment before pulling Lucia hard against him and kissing her passionately in return. A roar went up from the crowd, but as much as Lucia wanted to participate, nothing stirred within her. She rested her hands on his shoulders and waited in the kiss until he released her with a broad grin. She moved back to the edge of the group, maintaining her smiling encouragement at Ian. It does not matter, she tried to tell him silently with her smile. This bout does not matter.
She realized that Anna had joined her and was whispering in her ear. “I thought you said you were not fond of him,” came the amused comment. Lucia paid her no mind. Her task for the moment was to keep Ian from hurting Stephen, and to ensure that Stephen’s victory came without any bad feelings. Outwardly she nodded encouragingly at Ian, while inwardly she hoped for Stephen to finish the match quickly and safely.
Hector brought the men together again, and once again the staff raised up. Ian was in a fine mood now, waving his sword with flourishes and panache. Stephen seemed, if anything, even more somber, his blocks against Ian’s sword short and sharp. His face was an impassive mask, no emotion showing. Then Ian closed in, and there was a flurry of sword work.
Lucia had to admit that despite her concern she was drawn into the fine skill being shown. Ian was apparently past his impulse to make a quick hit and had settled into his years of training. His moves were precise and well timed. Stephen, having won two out of two so far, was indulging in giving Ian his moment in the sun. The crowd cried out in delight as the men went back and forth across the hall, all of their skill shining.
Lucia forgot the danger for a moment as she became caught up in the elegance of the movements. She saw Stephen let one easy touch go - and then two. She realized that Stephen was indeed giving Ian his moment to show his worth, to be able to tell later how he had held his own.
Finally, on the third advantage offered by Ian, Stephen stepped forward for the hit, to bring an end to the match. Stephen turned fully sideways to catch the angle, tapping his blade with gentle restraint on Ian’s outstretched arm. Lucia exhaled as she saw Stephen rotate through the final hit, finally releasing her held breath. It was going to end reasonably, she realized with pleasured surprise. Stephen would take the lead, and Ian would have the stories to tell. It actually could end well for both men.
Lucia smiled with relief as she watched Stephen relax as well. His eyes swept the crowd as he turned, seeking out and finding hers. She saw in them the grim resolve of doing what had to be done, and wondered if her own eyes had held that same look for the past hour. To her right, Anna noticed that Stephen was looking in their direction, and raised her jeweled hand in a congratulatory wave.
Suddenly Lucia froze in shock. Behind Stephen, Ian had not felt the tap and was continuing his rolling sword attack. Ian hadn’t realized the fight was over. The crowd roared in excitement, oblivious of the danger of the moment.
Lucia drove forward a step, her cheek scraping open against the edges of Anna’s rings. The pain was inconsequential to the sharp dagger of fear which pierced her heart. There was no time …
“Down!” she screamed to Stephen, her voice cracking in desperation.
Her voice seemed swallowed in the din, but without hesitation Stephen immediately dropped to one knee. Ian’s sword sliced through the air where Stephen’s arm had been. Stephen spun underneath the sword and smacked his sword against Ian’s leg in a far more obvious manner. Hector called out, “A hit!” and the crowd cheered wildly as the fight came to an end.
Lucia sagged in relief. Apparently none of the watchers
but her had caught the first, subtle tag. Her legs trembled as she watched Stephen and Ian shake hands first with each other, and then with Lord Edmund. Stephen’s face was a quiet mask of studied calm, while Ian was already triumphing in his brilliant maneuvers.
A fresh barrel of ale was opened, the tables were brought in, and the real festivities began. Lucia was sucked into the whirl of sound and color; soon she was sitting next to Ian. It was almost too loud to hear distinct words, but Ian’s voice rang out recounting every detail of the match.
Lucia played the dutiful partner for an hour, but the din and heat became oppressive. She murmured into Ian’s ear that she needed to leave the room for a moment, and he expansively waved her on. Two other women filled her place the moment she stood.
Lucia turned and went up the stairs toward her room. The hallway was deserted, lit only by a few flickering candles. She gratefully stopped in the peace of the long hall of windows. She stood at one and opened the shutter slightly, breathing in the fresh air with gratitude. Exhausted, she leant her forehead against the window frame. It was all going to be fine, she reminded herself with a deep sigh. The evening was over. She began shaking with relief.
She felt rather than heard someone come up behind her. She turned in the semi-dark and saw the brown eyes gazing into hers, the ones she had come to trust beyond all measure. Her face flushed, and time staggered to a halt.
* * *
Stephen was captivated by the woman before him. She seemed almost a dream, hidden in the shadows of the deserted hall. There was so much he wished to tell her, and yet so much that could not be said.