They managed to get him into a sitting position. By this time, John had joined them and he helped to steady his brother. The crowd, seeing that The White Lord was at least sitting up, began to cheer wildly and chant his name.
Matthew sat a moment, struggling with his breathing, before allowing Gaston and Mark to pull him to his feet. Luke stood behind him, lifting him under the shoulders as the others pulled. He was extremely unsteady on his legs, but managed to walk out of the arena under his own power. There is no way in hell they were going to carry him out; the only way that would happen is if he were unconscious or dead. Moreover, he had promised Alixandrea that all would be well in the match. He did not want to have to admit he had been wrong. For her sake more than anything, he had to walk out on his own two feet.
They walked past his horse on the way out. He paused by the beast, gazing down at the mess.
“He was a good horse,” he muttered. “What a damn waste.”
Alixandrea was following behind, deliberately looking away when he stopped next to the destrier. She did not want to see it. Off to her right, someone took a hammer and put Dennis’ horse out of its misery. The loud, sickening thud echoed off the lists. The last she saw, they were dragging out the carcass as anothergroup of men went to work untangling the remains of Matthew’s horse. It was a nauseating sight.
By the time Matthew left the field, he was feeling slightly better. His head wasn’t swimming so terribly, but his ribs were killing him. Gaston had a good grip on him so that he would not fall, but Matthew assured him that he was steady enough. He was, in fact, more concerned about his wife than for himself. Once clear of the field, he stopped walking and turned to her.
She was still behind him, head down, carrying his dented helm. He reached out a hand to her.
“Come here, love,” he said gently. “Walk with me.”
Alixandrea went to walk beside him, furiously blinking away the tears that threatened. For as frightened as she was, she had done a good job of keeping her hysterics in check. Gaston took the helm from her and took a position behind both her and Matthew. He wanted to be close should Matthew stagger.
“I do believe that I am done for the day,” Matthew said to her. “I am looking forward to a good meal and a warm bed.”
“What about your ribs?” she could hardly speak. “We must find a physic.”
“We will,” he said. “I have had enough broken ribs to know that it is not serious. Perhaps just a crack or two.”
“What about Dennis?” Luke asked no one in particular. “Did anyone see how he fared?”
Gaston cast a glance back toward the field. Dennis had long since been removed. “He was walking unassisted when I last saw him, so it could not have been too bad.”
“Bastard,” John snarled. “He deliberately drove his lance into Matthew’s charger. Instead of going for the knight, he killed the horse. I saw everything clearly.”
“And he shall be disqualified for it,” Gaston said steadily; he suspected that Lady Wellesbourne did not want to hear all ofthis. “But for now, Matthew is in one piece and we can all be thankful.”
Matthew suddenly faltered and he pitched onto his knees before anyone could grab him. Mark and Luke held him steady as Gaston began unlatching his armor.
“Help me get this off of him,” he said to Alixandrea. “He cannot breathe with this heavy armor restricting him.”
Alixandrea unstrapped the stays on his dented breastplate as Gaston pulled it free. She wasn’t very good with armor and Gaston and John ended up taking off most of it. She simply stayed next to her husband, holding his arm steady as if to support his weight. He smiled at her, wearily, as his brother and friend yanked off pieces of metal.
“Forgive me for giving you such an exciting end,” he said. “It did not go exactly as I had planned.”
She returned his smile, reaching out to stroke a rough cheek. “It does not matter. You did as I asked. You finished whole and in one piece.”
He lifted an eyebrow, not saying what he was thinking; when the charger went down, he was positive that he was about to break his neck. He was, in truth, astonished that he hadn’t. The last piece of armor came off and he signaled the group that he was ready to stand again.
“Someone take my wife and I back to our apartment,” he said. “I have an overwhelming desire to lie down.”
Luke and John went off in search of a carriage. Mark, holding on to Matthew’s right arm, noticed that the field marshals were attempting to get Gaston’s attention. He nudged the big knight.
“Gaston,” he said. “They’ve cleared the field. Your bout is up.”
Gaston had almost forgotten. “Will you be able to handle Matthew?”
Mark nodded. “I have for thirty-four years.”
Gaston lifted a dark eyebrow. “Take him, then. And take care of the lady, too. Mind that she does not run off somewhere in the chaos.”
Mark looked at him, puzzled and defensive at the same time. Gaston met his gaze steadily, silent implications in the smoky eyes. He did not even have to say Rosehill for Mark to know what he had meant. They both knew. Mark wondered if Matthew knew, also.
“You needn’t worry about the lady,” Mark finally said, collecting Matthew’s dented helm as Luke and John brought around a flat-bed wagon they had borrowed from another competing knight. “Nothing will happen to her.”
