Page 24 of Knight School Chronicles Box Set

F inally, the day he’d been waiting for since arriving.

Gareth, Alden, and Roland rode up to the training field. Unlike the training yard, this wide-open space was not filled with men practicing hand-to-hand combat. There were not sounds of clanging metal, and there were only three other men beside them.

And their instructor.

The only one he’d not met yet. Apparently, Sir Adrian Fitzwilliam had accompanied Lady Maude and her son to Normandy with a contingency of men and just returned the day before.

Sir Adrian was well-known as an expert rider and his horsemanship had earned him many tournament victories, but more importantly, he’d won many battles throughout his life.

A mounted combat expert and son of a legendary jouster, it was Sir Adrian’s name Gareth’s own father invoked when he’d first shown interest in the joust. It was also his name Lord Stirling mentioned when he and Sir Eamon had first approached Gareth to join their order.

And though Gareth was not arrogant enough to believe he had nothing to learn from Fitzwilliam, it had become clear what Alden first told him was true.

Gareth was here less to learn from Fitzwilliam than he was the other instructors, especially in strategy and archery.

“I never imagined seeing him ride,” Gareth said, knowing he sounded like a lovesick squire. He cared little of others’ perceptions of him and spoke what was on his mind, but even to his own ears, the awe in his tone was apparent.

“My father fought beside him,” Roland said as Sir Adrian rode toward them. “Said there was no man alive that could command his mount like him. If he only knew I was learning from him now.”

Last eve at the meal, Roland had told him how he was recruited and the toll it took that he and his father fought for two different sides. Theirs was not the only family torn apart by this long succession crisis.

“Gentlemen,” Sir Adrian addressed them, along with the others that had been ordered to the training yard. “Apologies for my absence. I typically welcome new recruits immediately but was needed elsewhere.” He looked directly at Gareth. “Sir Gareth Claymore.”

“Sir Adrian Fitzwilliam,” he replied.

“Come. Let us see if you have anything to learn from me.”

Though he was fully suited, Gareth’s helm remained on his arm. They had been instructed not to bring anyone, including squires, with them. The knight school provided their own, ones who had been vetted, and the same young man who’d aided him with his armor now brought Gareth his lance.

You are about to joust Sir Adrian Fitzwilliam.

Now is not the time to think of her.

And yet, as he’d done all eve the day before and this morn in his lessons, Gareth could not get Evie out of his mind. With luck, this training session would not interfere with their meeting, especially since Alden and Roland were with him. He’d trust none other to take Evie a message.

As the men cheered, he rode into position. Lance and shield in hand, Gareth spun his mount toward Sir Adrian. The instructor had complete control over his own mount. He wielded his lance as if it were a twig, something that could be accomplished only with great strength and years of practice.

He would be a difficult opponent to best.

As the same squire that had outfitted him blew his horn, Gareth spurred his mount forward. Holding his lance in a couched position, he decided to wait, much like he had with the German, until the last possible moment to attempt a strike.

This time, it did not work as planned. He’d underestimated his opponent’s strength. Considering the man’s age, Gareth had held back just slightly. Because of it, Sir Adrian’s lance splintered, though it did not shatter. Nor had he unseated Gareth.

A victory for his instructor, though not a decisive one. Yet a victory, nonetheless.

Returning to the spectators, both men handed their lances to the squires and removed their helms. Sir Adrian’s smile, affable but not mocking, was no less than Gareth expected.

“It seems there is something to teach you, after all,” his instructor said. “Why did England’s most celebrated tourney knight see his lance unscathed?” he asked the men.

As answers flew around him, Gareth already knew precisely what he had done wrong. Misjudging your opponent was the simplest, and most dangerous, of all mistakes.

“Though you will not be expected to joust in this mission of ours, it provides an opportunity for lessons in mounted combat as well as giving us an opportunity to strengthen and expand our fighting capabilities in many ways.”

Sir Adrian paired Roland with another of the recruits as the others watched.

It went much the same all morn. When their instructor suddenly declared their training session over, Gareth did not waste a moment.

He needed to get out of his armor and down to the village.

Unfortunately, Sir Adrian had other plans.

“A moment, Sir Gareth.”

“Aye, my lord?”

“You need not restrain yourself against me.”

“I did not?—”

“You did, and ’tis not necessary.” The man smiled through his closely trimmed gray beard. “I would see your full might the next time we joust.”

The chivalric code, one Sir Adrian was known to adhere to strictly, prevented him from admitting he had done anything other than give the man his full might already. Instead, he said simply, “Aye, my lord.”

Dismissed, he rode up to Roland and Alden. “I will see you both at archery lessons.”

“Do you need an escort to the village?” Roland said. Though he and Alden had just met the man, both agreed they admired his instant loyalty to Gareth.

“I would not entangle either of you more than necessary in this.”

“Ahh, so he admits it,” Alden said as they rode back to the keep. “It is an entanglement you ride so willingly into this day?”

Roland didn’t even attempt to hide his smile.

“I admit nothing,” Gareth said.

“It seemed to me you have. Roland? What say you?” Alden asked.

“In matters of the heart, I have little guidance to offer.”

Gareth doubted as much and voiced his thoughts aloud. “I’ve seen you with the maids at Castle Blackwood and will heartily disagree.”

“I did not say I’ve little experience to offer. With women, I have plenty. But guidance? Nay. Especially not with the daughters of men like Ashcroft.” He shuddered.

Shaking his head, with little time to spare, Gareth spurred his mount forward. “Until later, men,” he called back. Already he would be late to meet with Evie at the appointed time, and Gareth did not wish to miss her. Or worse, to have her believe he’d changed his mind about meeting her.

Was it improper?

Aye.

Dangerous?

Aye.

And yet, he’d never looked forward more to a meeting in his life.