Why indeed. The Challenger had a stockier build although it was obvious that he possessed a warrior’s strength. He wore a gray surcoat over his armor although the fabric had no emblem embossed on it. The visor of his helm was already drawn low, hiding his eyes. His horse was similarly draped in a stormy grey cloth. And together man and beast became one formidable entity.
The two knights sat facing each other on their destriers, assessing one another for a tense moment. They seemed almost oblivious to the crowd of people who were either watching the exchange with rapt attention, or excitedly making bets on the winning knight.
Rowena chewed on the bottom of her lip, studying the two knights. Something about the challenger tugged at her memory. Then it dawned upon her that this had to be the grey knight that Jonathan’s squire referred to yesterday.
The minutes seemed to pass as the two knights continued to stare each other down. The air became heavy with a barely constrained hostility that encompassed both men. The crowd stopped their chanting and began murmuring as if confused as to why the knights had not moved. But when the herald spoke again in his booming voice, the knights seemed to snap back to reality.
Rowena had little time to wonder about their intense scrutiny when they both turned their attention to her. Then she wished that they were still locked in private combat.
“They are coming toward us!” gasped Ava. Sure enough, both Jonathan and the Challenger rode their horses to the grandstand, coming to a full stop in front of Rowena. Both knights held the tip of their lances to Rowena, requesting her favor.
“I cannot tie my scarf on both of their lances,” Rowena said in dismay. She looked from one knight to the other. The sun reflected off the Challenger’s drawn visor while Jonathan’s handsome face looked at her expectantly. There were other fair women on the grandstand, why did they want her to choose between them?
“Just pick one to favor, child,” Ava said. “I will tie my scarf on the lance you do not choose.”
The crowd watched curiously as Rowena and her nursemaid approached the wooden railing.
She bit her lip and cast an apologetic glance at the Challenger before tying her scarf on Jonathan’s lance. Jonathan nodded before placing his gleaming helm over his head, closing the visor with a snap. He then turned to take his position at the end of the list.
Just as Ava leaned over to tie her scarf around the other lance, the Challenger withdrew it. Ava gasped as she was left hanging over the railing. Her face burned with humiliation. But the Challenger paid no mind, and in one fluid motion and without a word, he wheeled his horse around. He charged his war horse to the other side of the list, its hooves tearing the grass up and spitting it into the air.
The onlookers jeered at the knight’s callous behavior. “It seems that you have chosen the right knight to champion you,” Lorena said, frowning at the Challenger’s back. “Behavior like that makes a mockery of the chivalric code which all knights are sworn. He should be disqualified right here and now.”
Although Lorena was rightfully enraged over the Challenger’s heartless display toward Ava, a disqualification was unlikely to occur.
Once again the knights faced each other. The crowd’s cheer for the Hawk grew louder and more enthusiastic. But despite this, the anonymous knight remained calm and showed no signs of being affected by the crowd’s condemnation.
“‘Tis almost as if this challenger does not fear Sir Jonathan,” Rowena mused. “Does that not strike you as odd, my lady?”
“Aye,” Lorena said in surprise. “This is very odd. Fear strikes the heart of men even before they meet Jonathan in the flesh. ‘Tis curious how this man displays no fear at all. Indeed, he shows contempt for Jonathan with every move he makes.”
“Perhaps they met in a battle,” Rowena said. “Do you think he is the Grey Knight?”
Lorena looked sharply at her. “How do you know about the Grey Knight?”
“I —I have heard Sir Jonathan and his squire discussing the knight. I gathered that there is no love lost between them. I thought perhaps he was searching for the knight for some reason.”
Lorena turned her head toward her cousin, a sorrowful expression clouding her face. “Aye, he is searching for the Grey Knight, albeit perhaps for too long,” she said, her tone somber. Then she returned her gaze to Rowena. “If that man is the Grey Knight, then you must promise to stay away from him. He is very dangerous and people who get in his path are harmed.”
“For the past few days everyone is warning me about everyone else. I am not sure who to listen to.”
“There are many dangerous people in this kingdom. Heed the words of others, but also listen to your heart, and judge for yourself who you should stay away from,” Lorena said.
The trumpet sounded, signaling the start of the joust. With ferocious speed, the knights took off, riding toward each other as swift as if they were two animals fighting for one thing — victory.
“Well, I hope whoever this arrogant knight is, Sir Jonathan defeats him,” Ava said, sounding miffed. She spread her fingers over her apron, smoothing the wrinkles from the fabric. “A man like him does not deserve to win, is my humble opinion.”
Whether he would win or not, the Challenger pushed forward. Rowena could sense the air of granite confidence settling upon Jonathan and his mount. The crowd sensed it as well because they watched on, riveted and tense to witness the final outcome of the battle. The sounds of hooves rumbled across the earth, and Rowena’s heart raced alongside the thundering strides of the powerful warhorses. Then the thundering halted. In the second that Rowena could blink, the Challenger’s lance smashed and splintered into dozens of pieces as it made contact with Jonathan’s small metal shield.
Cheers and hisses filled the air.
Without pause, both knights wheeled their horses around to their respective sides. The squires scrambled to outfit their masters with new lances. And while the servants rushed to pick up the large wooden splinters, the warhorses stood proudly shaking their cloth covered faces, snorting with impatience and temper for the jousting to recommence.
When the trumpet blasted again, Rowena sat at the edge of her seat, squeezing her hands together almost as if in prayer. And even as she silently rooted for Jonathan, she was held captive by the actions of the other knight. The two horses kicked up dust and grass, and charged again. Then before Rowena could understand what happened, Jonathan’s horse reared up, his ear-piercing scream echoing throughout the grassy field. Large splinters sprayed into the air. Jonathan was flung off his mount and somehow he avoided becoming crushed by the gigantic beast as it fell heavily on to the ground.
The crowd let out a collective gasp, followed by a murmur of shocked confusion. Then when Jonathan’s mount lay unmoving on the ground, the murmurs turned into angry shouts. “The Beast! Justice for the Beast!”
But Jonathan paid no attention to the crowd. The sight of his injured horse filled him with a blinding rage. An honorable knight never injured another man’s mount. Never. He ignored the shooting pain in his shoulder, and ran to his fallen horse. He smoothed his hand over the horse’s sleek flank, and Storm raised his head as if to apologize for failing him. Jonathan clenched his jaws and watched helplessly as his loyal mount struggled, using the last of his strength to surge to his feet, while blood seeped out from a gaping wound in his chest.
Through the roaring sound in his head, Jonathan barely heard the herald disqualify the match.
“Do not strain yourself, my friend,” he murmured to his horse. At the sound of his master’s voice, Storm turned his head and nudged at his hand.
Jonathan beckoned at his squire to take his mount away from the field. Then he looked around him. He spotted the other knight several feet away, watching him with amusement.
It was clear to him that the blow was a deliberate attempt to kill him, his horse or both. This knight hid behind the anonymous mask of a challenger but he was no ordinary knight — he was a heartless coward. And it was someone he knew�
�
He had heard a rumor about an unidentified grey knight in their midst. And when he and Gareth went to investigate, they found a beardless youth underneath the armor. A dead lead, he thought. But this knight clad in grey was different. When he first clapped eyes on the unidentified knight, he knew in his heart that this was it. This was the Grey Knight that he searched for. Gareth was right to persuade him to come to Ravenhearth.
“Sire!” Albert shouted as he tossed him his sword.
Jonathan caught the blade, and turned his full attention to his adversary. The grey clad knight bent his head in a mocking bow.
“You have come,” Jonathan said in a deadly voice. “I have waited far too long to fight you, to avenge Amelia’s death. I want to see that hideous face that you’re hiding. Show yourself!”
The Grey Knight threw his head back, and gave a sharp bark of laughter which was muffled by his helm. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?” he said, amusement ringing in his voice. “But that would make things too easy for you, and my mission in life is to keep you miserable. I’ve decided to keep you miserable a little while longer.”
The laughter set Jonathan’s teeth on edge. Rage filled his heart and it took possession of him, compelling him to run. He thundered at the knight, his sword held high, wanting so badly to strike down the man who caused him and others so much pain and suffering.
But the Grey Knight, expecting Jonathan’s move, turned his mount to the other direction and rode away toward the trees, his metallic laughter filling the air. “You shall see me again,” he shouted over his shoulder.
The crowd was silent, too stunned to react to the events that played out before their eyes.
In his fury, Jonathan ignored the pain shooting through his shoulder, but now as the Grey Knight disappeared into the trees, the pain throbbed unbearably, and he fell to the ground. Albert and Gareth raced over to help him up and lead him off the field.
“What happened out there, sire?” Gareth asked.
“God’s bones,” Jonathan muttered under his breath as every step seemed to jar his injury. “Was it not obvious? Not only did the bastard strike my mount, but he managed to injure me as well.”
“I thought the lance broke off on your shield, sire,” Albert said in surprise. His face paled when his eyes focused on Jonathan’s shoulder. The plate of armor that protected the vulnerable area was askew. “You are bleeding.”
Jonathan glanced at his shoulder. “The force of the fall damaged my armor,” he said, “and I fell onto the large splinters on the ground.”
Albert took his uninjured arm and wrapped it around his own shoulders, supporting the weight of his master.
“Our suspicions were correct,” Jonathan continued, glancing at Gareth. “‘Twas the Grey Knight that was matched to me.”
Gareth furrowed his eyebrows. “I felt so sure we found the bastard…” He shook his head as if to clear the memory of the youth that they had confronted the night before. “I have already sent four men ahead of me,” he said. “I needed to know that you were all right before I join them in the search.”
“I’ll survive,” Jonathan said. He moved his shoulder, testing it, and winced at the blinding pain that shot across his shoulder. “Just get that bastard before he slips away from us again.”
CHAPTER 20
When Rowena saw Jonathan hurt, her heart stopped.
She flew out of her seat, wrenching free from Ava’s grip, ignoring her protests. And by the time Rowena made it down to the lists, past the crowd surrounding Jonathan, he was already being led away by a large knight and his young squire. She flinched when she saw his face twist in agony. Something inexplicable inside her wanted to reach out to him and wipe away the pain etched there.
From where she stood, she could see the blood seeping out from his unprotected shoulder. Whoever the Challenger was, he intended to hurt or even kill Jonathan.
The idea of seeing Jonathan dead made her feel unsettled.
As she watched him leaning on the squire, she experienced a sudden flash of inspiration. Maybe there was something she could do after all, she thought, remembering the healing balm that Ava mixed just the other day. Jonathan was in pain — that much was obvious — and if she brought him something to take away that pain, would he not appreciate it?
With her mind made up, she returned to her seat just as the crowd dispersed back to their respective places, and the field was once again being prepared for the next round of jousting.
Ava kept her medicine beside her pallet. There was no disputing that her foul smelling herbal medicine worked. Hundreds of injuries sustained by the garrison were cured by the salve. However Ava was very protective of her concoctions and only gave it to people who exhausted their own remedies. How was she going to get the medicine to Jonathan without Ava knowing of her plans?
Then as if Ava knew that Rowena was thinking of her, she looked up. “I need to return to the castle,” Rowena said.
Ava gestured to the empty seat beside her, indicating for her to sit down. But when Rowena didn’t make a move to sit, she frowned. “Can you not wait until after this match?” she asked. “I understand that Sir Jared will be jousting next.” The unmistakable lean figure of her father’s commander rode his horse across the field. He had a yellow scarf tied to his wooden lance.
Rowena shook her head. “I just came to let you know where I am going. You do not have to accompany me as I will not be long.”
Ava’s face filled with indecision, and she looked from Rowena to Jared, who was in place, waiting for the signal to charge. “You will only be there for a short while?” she asked hopefully. “You are certain that you will be all right if I do not accompany you, child? While you were making your way back, Sir Jared came to request a favor from me. ‘Twould be terribly rude for me to leave just before he begins his joust.”
Rowena nodded her agreement. “Then stay here and allow Sir Jared to champion you. I do not need you to come with me. There was a time when you had to accompany me everywhere, but I am a full grown woman now and can take care of myself. Besides, I am not going far. I shall be back before you know it.”
The trumpet blasted and Sir Jared spurred his mount into a full charge against his opponent, drowning out the spectators’ cheerful chatter.
“Oh!” Ava breathed. She sat a bit straighter and folded her hands over her chest as if to slow down the pacing of her heart. She seemed to have forgotten that she had spoken with Rowena just a moment ago.
Rowena slipped away from the grandstand without Ava noticing.
***
Rowena shaded her eyes and looked up at the sun, checking to see how much time she had left. She told the truth when she said she wouldn’t take long. She rode swiftly to the castle. And the fact that she knew where Ava kept her basket of potions and ointments allowed her to get back to the tournament grounds in record time. All she planned to do was to pop into Jonathan’s tent and hand him the salve. He would thank her for it, and she could then make her way back to the grandstand. No one would notice she was missing, not when there was so much action happening in the lists, she reasoned.
But with each step, she became doubtful about the wisdom of seeking Jonathan out. He had the surgeon and the assistance of his squire. What would he need her for? But she owed it to him, a voice inside her argued. Just yesterday, wasn’t Jonathan comforting her when she was overwrought with distress and grief?
And how could she ignore the look of surprised pain that cross over his rugged face just before he collapsed to the ground? Even though the Hawk led a life of brutality and his heroic battles under King Edward were sung far and wide, he was still a man, a man who could bleed and feel pain as much as the next person.
And then there was the fact that she went through enough trouble to get the small bottle she now held in her hand…
She propelled forward, quickening her pace lest she change her mind. The least she could do for him was to offer her help. If he didn’t need it, then she woul
d just leave.
With renewed determination, she walked into the cluster of pavilions. There were several dozen of them set up in the area and to her great relief, she found Jonathan’s tent without much effort. It was slightly off to the right, and the flag fixed atop the structure, with the familiar image of the fierce hawk, left no doubt as to whom the tent belonged.
As Rowena got closer, she could hear Jonathan’s deep baritone voice coming through the thick canvas walls.
She looked over her shoulders one last time to make sure that no one saw her and then pushing aside the heavy canvas flap, she went inside.
Then just as the canvas flap snapped back into place, Jonathan surged to his feet, and in one fluid motion, picked up the sword that lay at his side. Albert watched Jonathan with open mouthed awe, his hand stilled in the act of shining armor.
Rowena meanwhile took a staggering step back. Jonathan’s stance was as aggressive as the hawk he was named after. He showed no outward signs that he was weakened by injury. It was easy to see how he could incite fear in men. But when his dark eyes met hers, his brows furrowed as if she was not who he was expecting. He relaxed his grip on the sword and thrust it into the ground.
“What are you doing here, my lady?” he asked.
Her breath came out in a rush. “You do not look very hurt,” she said. A slight frown appeared on her face and she felt a sense of disappointment to find him so robust. He smiled ruefully at her expression, but then grimaced when he brought a hand to his shoulder and discovered fresh blood there.
His eyes narrowed at her when he noticed that she clutched something in her hand. “So you have come to finish the job?” he asked.
Rowena flushed. “Nay,” she said. “I have come to help you, not harm you.” She opened her hand and showed him the amber colored bottle. “‘Tis a special ointment that my nursemaid mixed a few days ago. Everyone from the garrison to the villagers use it. She swears that it wards off the evil that causes infection. And I have witnessed miraculous cures because of it.” She held it out to him, intending for him to take it from her so she could be on her way. “I thought it might prove useful for you.”
One True Knight (The Knights of Honor Trilogy) Page 17