CHAPTER FIVE
Daniel, Carlton andTad survived their first round. Richmond competed with the second group of contenders, easily making the cut. The afternoon progressed as two more groups of first-round competitors came up for their turns, and the marshals singled out the most accurate shots and set them aside with the others who had endured the cut.
Arissa bit her lip as Richmond came up in the second and third rounds, sailing arrows as straight and true as God himself. Once, as he reloaded his bow in the second elimination round, he had glanced over his shoulder and cast her an obvious wink. Lady Maude caught the gesture and fanned herself furiously, thinking it was meant for her. Arissa had almost laughed.
The field of contenders had narrowed dramatically by the fourth round. Daniel was still a viable player, but Carlton had been ousted in the third set. Tad stood alongside Richmond and three other finalists as they prepared their weapons.
Arissa’s heart was lodged in her throat as she watched the contestants assume a striking stance. Richmond was by far the tallest man in the crowd, a good head above the rest. Her gaze never left him, lulled into the fantasy world she so frequently entered when gazing upon his masculine beauty, and she had drifted a thousand miles away by the time the marshal abruptly lowered his arm. Startled back to the world at hand, she watched as the arrows went roaring toward the distant targets.
The crowd cheered their approval as five projectiles embedded themselves into the straw. After the marks were closely scrutinized by the officials, Daniel and two other menwere eliminated. Richmond and Tad were to face off against one another.
“I am surprised you have lasted this long, le Bec,” Tad muttered as he adjusted the tension on his bow. “With your eyes ravaged with age, I was not at all sure you could see the target.”
Richmond did not reply as he tightened his glove. Then he resumed a firing stance. “Unlike you, I do not have to see my mark in order to hit it.”
“What kind of nonsense is that?”
“’Tis no nonsense, I assure you. With age comes a skill you have yet to acquire, the sixth sense of a warrior. Visualizing the target in your mind; literally seeing without the use of your eyes.”
Tad looked at him as if he were mad. “Foolishness, le Bec. Not only are you blind, you are senile as well.”
The corner of Richmond’s lips tugged. “Mayhap. But while you are hindered by your eyesight, I can see the mark perfectly within my mind’s eye. I sense it; therefore, I will not miss.” He raised his bow, leveling out his arm. “You rely too heavily on your senses. Learning to rely on your intuition is the mark of a truly great warrior.”
Tad passed him a peculiar glance as one of the marshals approached. As was tradition, when the field had narrowed to the final two entrants, one man would shoot before the other in a show of good sportsmanship.
The marshal muttered a few words to Richmond and then motioned to his comrade positioned by the target to relay Richmond’s readiness. When the second marshal returned the ready signal, the first marshal returned his attention to Richmond and took a step back.
“You may commence, my lord.”
Tad watched with astonishment as Richmond’s blue eyes, which had been narrowed intently on the distant mark, suddenlyclosed. It never occurred to him that Richmond’s quietly uttered boast had been God’s truth. Blind as a bat, he was aiming for a mark over one hundred yards away as if it were directly in front of him.
It has to be a trick, Tad thought.Men do not fire without seeing the target. Foolish old man is going to spear someone with his impossible method!
Puzzled and outraged, he opened his mouth to protest the knight’s firing technique when Richmond suddenly released the string and let the arrow fly. Tad’s head snapped sharply as he watched the arrow carve a path through the blue sky, drawn to the mark as if some unseen force was reeling it forth like a hooked fish. The wooden missile plowed into the target lashed to a sturdy bale of hay and the entire crowd of onlookers cheered happily at the display of talent.
But the enthusiasm rapidly faded into an uneasy silence as the second marshal took his time examining the bulls-eye. Arissa watched, forgetting to breathe, until the official turned his attention to the expectant crowd.
“Through the eye!”
The crowd roared their approval. Richmond, for the second time that afternoon, cast a lingering glance at Arissa. With a confident smile, he blessed her with yet another saucy wink. Arissa simply stood, rooted to the spot, and grinned like a fool.
“He’s going to beat him!” Penelope shrieked. “Riss, he’s going to win!”
Arissa couldn’t divert her attention long enough to respond. She clutched the ribbon to her breast, praying fiercely that Richmond would emerge the victor. She did so want to award him the ribbon. If she possessed any courage at all, she would have dispensed a congratulatory kiss, too.
Back on the field, Tad let out a disgusted sigh. Casting a baleful glance at Richmond, he assumed a striking stance.
“I am going to cut your arrow in half, le Bec.”
“Be my guest.”
The crowd began to hoot and roar as the ready signals were passed between the field marshals. Richmond stood back, leaning on his bow, as Tad took aim. Tensions built as the noise level increased, an almost unbearable excitement filling the air.
Arissa bit her lip, Penelope chewed her nails, and Emma and Regine were reduced to clutching one another’s hands. ’Twould seem that their competition for the same man was forgotten in the heat of their enthusiasm. The earl and Carlton, a private wager between them, wait restlessly to collect their money from one another.
Just when Arissa thought she couldn’t stand another moment of anticipation, Tad released his bow string. His arrow screamed through the air, piercing the designated mark with a dull thud. Chaff and dust billowed into the air as the audience proclaimed their favor for yet another fine display of skill.
Impatiently, the multitude began to surge forward as if to read the results for themselves. Several Lambourn soldiers were forced to push them back, away from the field, as both marshals scrutinized the target. Shouts and cries abound from the eager observers, demanding to know the outcome as the marshals pointed to the bulls-eye and chatted between themselves.
