Page 11 of The Sword and the Damsel (The De Veres #2)

“H ave you decided whose token you’re going to wear yet?” Iselda sat on the bed, looking even younger than usual. Alais was less than one year older, but they appeared much farther apart. Iselda dressed too modestly, in Alais’s opinion. That high-necked green velvet gown obscured the few curves on her slim form, and all her luxuriant chestnut hair was hidden beneath a wimple and veil.

“None of them.” Alais smiled and winked at her sister.

“None?” Iselda’s eyes grew wide.

“Why should I let them think they’ve won my favor before the competition? Besides, if I singled one out, it would offend the others. And if I wore them all, it would offend them even more.” Alais looked at herself in the mirror. She wore a deep-blue velvet dress with a gold brocade silk panel in the front. The square neckline and tight lacing on the sides accentuated her curves. Her mother had lent her a sapphire necklace for the occasion, which added to her overall effect, and its dangling jewel nestled between her breasts, inviting illicit glances. She let her long hair hang brazenly loose, adorning it only with a simple deep-blue scarf to hold it back.

“Where did that scarf come from?” Iselda asked, pointing to her head. “I don’t think I’ve seen you wear it before.”

“No idea.”

She knew exactly where it came from and who had given it to her, but she didn’t want to give herself away to Iselda. Hopefully, Sir Victor would notice. It might be too subtle, but she didn’t want to do anything that might catch the attention of her other suitors. It was important to keep her options open for as long as possible. She would be delighted if Sir Victor took the hint and put himself forward, but she knew she would need to marry whether he did, or he didn’t. “How do I look?”

Iselda giggled. “Scandalous, but I’m sure that’s what you were hoping for.”

“Scandalous is good, as long as I haven’t crossed the line to shameless.” Alais turned to examine herself from all angles.

“I think you’re fine. Mother will approve.”

“But Carenza won’t?”

“No, she won’t.”

Alais smiled. “Good, then I’ve got it right. Shall we head out?”

They joined their mother and Carenza, who handed little Charles over to his wet nurse.

“You look lovely, darling,” her mother said. “Your suitors won’t be able to keep their eyes off you.”

Carenza frowned. “Won’t you be cold with that much skin exposed?”

Iselda giggled beside Alais, and Alais stifled a laugh and squeezed Iselda’s hand.

“I’ll be fine, Carenza.” Alais led the way out to the front courtyard where a carriage waited for them. They rode down through the city, out the western gate, and over to the tournament grounds where a growing crowd was gathered.

The Rossignol and de Vere banners waved and snapped in the breeze on either side of a central platform where their families would be seated under a canopy, half of which was red striped and the other half blue striped to match the tabards of the two teams of competitors in the melee.

Townsfolk and visitors milled around the tournament grounds in a festive mood as they alighted from the carriage. The elevated stands of tiered bench seating that extended out on either side were starting to fill with revelers, and on the opposite side of the field, there was more tiered seating dotted with guests.

A double palisade of wooden stakes lined the tourney field in front of the seats to prevent horses from bolting into the crowd. Moveable barriers enclosed either end. On one side they were festooned in blue and on the other in red to match the pavilion. The field itself was covered in sand to reduce the chance of injury to falling cavaliers. Soon, proud knights would take the field to display their might and prowess, and she would have a front-row seat to the whole display.

Alais wandered away from her family to see the rest of the grounds and hopefully find her friends. She walked behind the seating on each side where vendors set up stands to sell foods, beverages, ribbons, and flowers. Attendees adorned themselves in the colors of those they supported. She was already dressed for the day, of course, and needed no further adornment, but she pulled a coin from her purse and bought a pastry.

Wine and ale flowed freely, and the scents of roasting meats and sweet treats filled the air. She wandered over to watch a puppet show for the children for a few minutes and then caught sight of Simone in the distance.

Alais made her way past a juggler who was entertaining the crowd, drawing oohs and ahs with their feats. She nearly bumped into one of the braziers placed at regular intervals so that people could warm themselves. Despite the chilly weather, the crowd was festive and raucous. Hundreds of spectators meandered through the grounds filled with excitement and good cheer.

Simone was with Lady Eugenie. What luck! Alais hurried to join them.

“I love your dress, Alais!” Lady Simone said, taking the edge of a long sleeve in her hand and fingering the velvet.

“You look lovely yourself, Lady Simone! Green suits you.”

“It brings out my eyes, doesn’t it?”

Lady Eugenie gasped and grabbed Alais’s arm. “Don’t look now, but Sir Victor is staring at you.”

He was? Alais and Lady Simone immediately swung their heads around to see.

“I said ‘don’t look’!”

Sir Victor stood beside Lord Daniel and was indeed staring at Alais with an intensity that made her blush and turn away.

“I think he was staring at something else just past me,” Alais said, suddenly warm despite the brisk weather.

“No, he fancies you. I’m certain of it,” said Lady Simone. “It’s too bad about his face. I’m told he used to be quite handsome.”

“I think his injuries show his valor,” Alais objected, realizing it was true. Somehow, in her eyes, his scars made him all the more attractive.

“Whose valor are you commending, Lady Alais?” asked a deep voice behind her. She turned to see Sir Robert in all his armored glory, crowned with golden ringlets. “Oh dear, I see you’ve forgotten the pin I gave you. Here, let me give you this to wear instead.”

Before she could object, he pulled off the silver clasp of his cloak and pinned it to her dress. She couldn’t think of a graceful way to say no. His fingers brushed the bare skin along her neckline as he took his time fastening it in place. For some reason, she didn’t feel the usual rush of warmth at his touch. She sighed as he stepped away.

“There. Now everyone will know how much I adore you. I already have your handkerchief tied to my lance.” She’d lost quite a few handkerchiefs over the last week at her mother’s urging. He took her hand and kissed it using his tongue once again, though this time, she didn’t like it nearly as much as she had before. Her friends collapsed against her with sighs and giggles as soon as he turned his back.

“I want one of those,” said Lady Eugenie, practically drooling as she watched him walk away.

“I want three of those,” declared Lady Simone, not to be outdone.

Alais’s glance strayed to Sir Victor, and she stopped giggling. She only caught his eye for a second but the heat and fury she saw before he looked away was enough to dispel her frivolous mood.

To her surprise, he walked over to her and offered a curt bow. “Excuse me, ladies. Lady Alais, you should rejoin your family. We’ll be starting soon.” He gestured for her to follow him toward her seat, careful as always not to touch her. When they were far enough from her friends not to be heard, he murmured, “You’re wearing my scarf.”

Good. He noticed. She gave him an inviting smile. “It matched my dress.”

“Someone might think you mean something by it.”

She paused and looked him in the eye, smiling flirtatiously. “Would they now?”

“Someone might think you mean something by that pin too.”

Oh dear . What must he think? “I couldn’t very well refuse in front of everyone.”

“Why are you wearing my scarf?” His eye bored into her with smoldering intensity, and she could hardly breathe.

At that moment, her mother came up and saved her from having to invent a response. “Where have you been? They’ll be starting soon. We need to head to our seats. Thank you for finding her, Sir Victor.” Her mother started to drag her to the platform with their seats.

“Wait, Sir Victor!” she called after him. “Will you be on the red team or the blue team in the melee?” She already knew, but she wanted him to know she knew.

“Blue.” He said gruffly.

“Good. Then I wore the right color.” She grinned and turned without waiting to see his reaction, then headed to her place on the platform. Trumpets announced the start of the tournament, and the crowd settled into their places in the stands.

Alais took her place in front. While technically a spectator, her mother had made clear that she was also part of the spectacle. This was as much an opportunity for her to show off her beauty and her courtliness to the assembled knights as it was for them to show off their prowess to her. Daniel’s voice rang out, asking the day’s competitors to join him on the field. Servants handed pewter goblets to each of them.

“Good knights, Winchelsea welcomes you and is honored by your presence today!” Daniel bellowed. “Each of you comes seeking glory and renown, and I am certain that your valor on the field today will do each and every one of you credit. But this is a competition. Only three of you will walk away with prizes. Lady Isabella de Vere will award this destrier to the winner of the joust.”

Her mother stood and curtsied to Daniel and gestured to a restive and sleek black war horse being led across the field by a stable hand. The crowd burst into applause and chatter about such a fine and costly gift.

“Lady Alais will offer a ring to the best swordsman.”

Alais stood and offered a curtsy then held up the ring. While the ring wasn’t as valuable as the destrier, she was well aware that she was part of the prize. The crowd whistled and hooted as she smiled at her admirers.

“And my lovely wife, Lady Carenza, will offer a jeweled clasp to whomever she deems the most valiant competitor outside of the other two winners.”

Carenza stood, taking Daniel’s arm, and holding up the clasp for all to see. The applause for Carenza was enthusiastic but respectful.

“As is traditional, the winners will receive a kiss in addition to the prize.”

There were hoots and cheers from the crowd and several of the competitors at that. Four of Alais’s suitors looked at her with lascivious intent. Lord Louis, much to her amusement, was looking at her mother, blushing furiously. Victor’s gaze was fixed on the ground.

“Watch yourselves, my lords. Lord de Vere and I will be close at hand to see that you don’t get carried away.”

There were chuckles from the crowd at that.

“As a reminder, this is a friendly competition,” Daniel continued. “Lances are to be directed at the body only. Heads, limbs, and horses are strictly off-limits. For the melee, you are aiming to knock down, disarm, or touch your sword to the chest or neck. You are not to wound or kill. When you are knocked down, disarmed, or touched, you will be asked to leave the field. Lord de Vere and I will be judging. If we tell you to leave the field for any reason, you must do so. If you cause serious injury to any of your opponents or disobey any of the rules, you will be removed and disqualified. Is everyone clear?”

The competitors shouted their agreement.

“Then I propose a toast to your honor and valor!” Daniel raised his goblet and took a drink.

The competitors raised theirs as well and took a quaff.

“Let the tournament begin!”

The competitors exited the field, half to the blue side and half to the red. Soon trumpets announced the first joust. Alais watched as Lord Guy and an older knight from Eastborne she’d never seen before lowered their lances and charged at each other. Lord Guy knocked the other knight off his horse, and he landed with a clatter in the sand. Daniel declared Lord Guy the victor of the first challenge.

Alais did her best to look interested, but she’d always found jousting a bit boring and repetitive if everyone was following the rules. If not, it could get bloody and gruesome quickly, which was always more interesting even as it was horrifying. She shivered, remembering the tournament she’d attended when she was twelve where a stray lance pierced a weak spot in a knight’s armor and impaled his shoulder. It was supposed to be a friendly competition, but she knew the weapons were sharp and the deadly danger all too real. She said a silent prayer that no one died today.

The initial eight rounds were uneventful except for Victor and an unfamiliar knight from Hawkhurst. The knight from Hawkhurst aimed slightly too high, and Victor was forced to throw himself from his horse at the last second to avoid being impaled through the neck. Daniel had the knight from Hawkhurst removed from the competition, but since Sir Victor didn’t follow through with the joust, he couldn’t continue to the next round. As Sir Victor was leaving the field, Sir Robert watched him intently. She couldn’t hear what Sir Robert said, but she could see the sneer on his face. Sir Victor gave him an intent look and walked away without a word.

“I wonder what that was about,” she murmured to Iselda.

“Very odd,” Iselda answered, having also watched the exchange. “Didn’t Sir Robert save Sir Victor’s life in Spain? I thought they were friends.”

“Very odd indeed.”

As the competition continued, Alais found herself wondering about Sir Robert’s character. She didn’t like the idea of being married to someone who could behave so unkindly. The more she thought back over her interactions with him, the less impressed she was. She began to see a pattern of self-importance and pushiness. Even his insistence on pinning his clasp onto her this morning—he didn’t even ask before he did it. He just reached out and did what he wanted. She would have to avoid encouraging him quite so warmly.

The field had been narrowed to two final competitors, Lord Louis and Sir Robert. They took their places, lowered their lances, and charged. Alais couldn’t help a momentary smile as Robert was knocked onto his posterior with a great crash and an undignified grunt. She managed to school herself into a look of concern by the time Sir Robert looked up to see her reaction. He seemed nonplussed to have her watching his humiliation and stomped off the field with his horse. He was a sore loser too, apparently—not the most attractive of attributes.

Daniel declared Lord Louis the winner of the joust and invited him up to the front to claim his reward. A groom brought out the horse, and her mother ceremonially handed Lord Louis the reins before the stable hand took the horse back for safekeeping during the rest of the competition.

Then Lord Louis leaned in and whispered something to her mother that made her titter and blush. She bent her head to kiss him on the cheek and at the last moment, he turned so that her lips landed on his mouth.

She jumped back in surprise and said, “You naughty man!” But she was grinning like a cat with cream.

Lord de Vere shook his head at Lord Louis in disapproval. Lord Louis shrugged. “What can I say? You have a lovely wife, and you did give me permission to kiss her, just this once.”

“Never again,” grumbled Lord de Vere, as he wrapped a possessive arm around her and gave her a lingering kiss on the lips.

“Martin, everyone is watching,” she objected when he released her.

“I don’t care,” he said, giving her a look that made her blush.

The audience loved it. They were hooting, whistling, banging on their seats, and doing anything they could think of to make a racket.

It took Daniel several minutes to get their attention again. “And now, we will begin the melee. Is everyone wearing their colors?” He looked at the competitors arrayed at either end of the field and confirmed that they were all wearing red or blue tabards over their armor, according to their team. “Remember the rules, my lords. Lord de Vere and I will be watching carefully. Are you ready?”

The men yelled in response.

“At the sound of the trumpet, you may begin.”

The trumpet sounded, and the knights ran at each other. There were seven on each side. After the removal of the knight that jousted against Sir Victor, Lord Louis had graciously offered to forgo further participation so that the numbers would be even. Swords clashed, and the battle began in earnest.

Alais watched the chaos and quickly picked out Sir Victor from the others. There was a smoothness and grace to his movements that made all the others look ungainly and awkward. Unfortunately for him, the rest of the blue team wasn’t nearly so strong. He was the best swordsman on the field, but the blue team was soon outnumbered, as her father and Daniel escorted the fallen off the field.

Sir Victor danced and twisted and turned, knocking down Lord Guy and disarming another knight before he found himself fighting Sir Robert, Sir Elias, and someone she didn’t recognize. Her heart raced as she watched, and she clutched the arms of her chair, craning her neck to see each movement.

He fended them off, spinning like a dervish. She was having difficulty seeing what was happening, the movement was so quick. Sir Elias jabbed at the gap in Sir Victor’s armor beneath the left arm and left a vivid red gash.

“No,” Alais gasped, half-rising from her chair.

Iselda reached out, gently pulling on her arm until she sat back down.

“He’ll be fine,” Iselda whispered once Alais was seated.

Alais nodded and took a deep breath, but her heart was pounding.

Fortunately, Daniel removed Sir Elias from the competition for an illegal strike. Alais certainly wouldn’t be marrying him after such a vicious display.

Her gaze returned to Sir Victor, who continued to fight his cousin and one other remaining knight. He continued to deflect blow after blow, despite being outnumbered. The crowd was silent, and the only sound was the clash of steel against steel.

The unknown knight took a swing at Sir Victor’s head and would have taken it off but for Sir Victor’s last-moment deflection.

She jumped to her feet, her hands over her mouth. No!

Lord de Vere intervened, dragging the knight from the fight for breaking the rules by taking deadly aim. She cheered the call and then sat back down, clenching her hands in her lap.

It was down to Sir Victor and Sir Robert, and they were nearly evenly matched. Sir Victor had a slight upper hand, in her opinion, but it could go either way. Sir Robert looked at Sir Victor with the ugly sneer again, and Sir Victor narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw. Whatever happened between them, it must have started long before the tournament and even before Sir Robert had arrived in Winchelsea. There was something going on she did not understand.

Sir Robert lunged at Sir Victor’s neck with his sword, and she gasped. How dare he take such deadly aim in a tournament!

Sir Victor used Sir Robert’s momentum to trip him, and he fell on his face.

A flood of relief and joy washed over her, and she cheered loudly, not caring who saw. If Sir Robert was disappointed in her, so be it. He deserved to lose after attempting such an underhanded, unchivalrous thing with his own cousin.

Sir Victor touched his sword to Sir Robert’s neck, and it was over. He sheathed his sword, and Sir Robert slunk off, still sneering, yet again demonstrating his inability to lose with grace. The audience roared.

Sir Victor turned to look at her. The noise of the crowd and Daniel’s announcement of the winner suddenly seemed to come from a great distance. She stepped down from the platform and made her way down to the field, holding Sir Victor’s gaze the whole time. He walked toward her, slowly, steadily, still panting and bathed in sweat from the exertion of battle. As he approached, she could see blood from where he had been nicked during the fight. He was so brave, so graceful, so handsome. What she had said to Lady Simone was true. She no longer thought of his scar as a blemish, but as a sign of his valor, making him all the more attractive.

She held out a trembling hand. He took it in his and knelt before her. He kissed it, still holding her gaze, fire in his eye.

Her body went up in flame at the touch of his lips and the heat in his look. She stepped closer and whispered, “Rise, Sir Victor.”

He stood.

She took out the ring and with shaking hands slid it onto his finger. Taking his hands in her own, she rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek. She could feel his heat, smell his skin, taste the salt of his sweat on her lips as she pressed them to his prickly stubble. She desperately wanted to kiss his lips and lose herself in his embrace, but too many eyes were on them both at that moment. Hundreds of people were watching, including the five men who wanted to marry her. Sir Victor hadn’t asked, she reminded herself as she released him.

She backed away, her chest heaving and her heart pounding as if she’d run a great distance. When she moved to relinquish his hands, he laced his fingers with hers to pull her back toward him. “Thank you for wearing my scarf.” His voice was rough and harsh, strained by some emotion she couldn’t identify.

It was too much, being this close. Fire coursed through her veins, radiating from the spot where his hand touched hers.

With a shuddering breath, she forced herself to squeeze his hand and smile, then pulled away to turn and head back to the platform with the rest of her family. Halfway there, she glanced back over her shoulder, and he was still standing in the same spot, watching her with the same intensity. She swallowed hard as she turned quickly and headed to her seat.

“Are you well?” Iselda asked, putting a kind hand on hers. “You look shaken. Did he say something to you?”

“I’m fine.”

“You look pale, scared almost. It’s not like you.”

“I’m fine, only a little nervous in front of a crowd. That’s all.” And completely addled by a man I can’t have because he doesn’t want me.

“You did fine.” Iselda patted her hand.

Alais smiled weakly, forcing herself to attend to what was happening around her and dragging her gaze away from where Victor had disappeared.

Carenza stood up to announce the winner of the clasp. She whispered something in Daniel’s ear. Daniel laughed and whispered something back.

“Fine,” Carenza said audibly. “Since you say I can’t give it to you, I choose Lord Guy.” Daniel nodded. “But I’d much rather kiss you.”

Daniel gave her a mischievous smile and raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, you will. Just not right now.”

To the crowd, he announced, “For our final prize today, Lady Carenza, my wife, will bestow a jeweled clasp to the knight that she deems has demonstrated the most valor. The prize goes to Lord Guy!” The crowd’s response was tepid. He was a dull choice, which was why Carenza chose him, Alais suspected.

Lord Guy made his way up to the platform and bowed to Carenza. She handed him the clasp, and told him in crisp, quiet tones, “I will kiss your cheek, and you will stand still for it. No sudden movement. Do you understand?”

Lord Guy gulped.

Carenza gave him a chaste peck on the cheek and sent him on his way.

“Ladies and gentlemen, that is the end of our tournament. Now go eat, drink, and be merry,” Daniel announced to the crowd who started heading toward the food stalls.

Alais headed over to her mother. “May I head back to the castle and rest a bit before the feast? I’m feeling a bit lightheaded.”

“You’re feeling unwell, Lady Alais?” It was Sir Robert. Of course. Exactly who she didn’t want to see.