Gaultier’s aggressive countenance shifted, encouragement and challenge gleaming in his fraternal eyes like the finely polished armor he wore with chivalrous pride. “You, my brother, must focus on winning the Yuletide Joust. Leave the rest to me.” With a reassuring clasp on both shoulders and a hearty grin, Gaultier strode purposefully across the castle grounds to confer with his king.
The blue heraldic banner of his new fiefdom,la Cornouaille—with the golden horned silver ram—flapped in the briny breeze as Bastien entered his pavilion. Two squires jumped to attention and helped him don his plated armor for the Yuletide Joust. When he emerged, adjusting his armor, Bastien glimpsed two dark figures darting away from his horse’s tent.What on earth were they doing here?
Warrior instincts on full alert, he scanned the area, his eyes landing on Drach’s feed bucket near the opening of the pavilion.
The hairs rose on the back of his neck.
He picked up the bucket and sniffed, detecting a strong, resinous odor like pine. Sifting the oats through his fingers, he filtered out long, slender yew needles.
Fatal if ingested.
A jolt of rage bolted through him like white hot lightning.The bastards tried to poison my horse!
As Max exited the tent to fetch Drach’s feed bucket, Bastien grabbed it, stormed over to the campfire, and dumped the contents into the flames. “Yew needles,” he spat, shaking with rage as he glowered at the baffled groom. “They tried to poison Drach.”
Horror dawned in Max’s bewildered gaze. “Bastards!” He pried the bucket from Bastien’s steely grip. “I’ll wash it out. And get fresh oats. I’ll be right back, my lord.” Max dashed across the bailey toward the well and returned a few minutes later, wiping the clean bucket with a drying cloth. He refilled it with fresh oats and fed it to the ravenous, grateful horse.
Bastien watched his Percheron crunch the oats while Quentin and Gaston fetched him fresh water to drink. Inside the tent, Max prepared the caparison hood Drach would wear for the joust, bearing the coat of arms ofla Cornouaille. When the stallion was finished eating, the younger boys watered him, and Max brushed his coat.
Since Drach wasn’t running until the last of the eight tilts in the preliminary round, Max and the boys walked him for a bit, as did other grooms from nearby tents with their lords’ horses.
Bastien gazed into the grandstand where Gabrielle sat between her father and her great-aunt. He spotted his mother with Viviane and Ghislaine. Beside Béatrice, he glimpsed the trio of pasty-faced Parisian ladies and the conniving Onfroi—le Vicomte de Vanneswhose men had ambushed and killed King Guillemin’s messenger.
As if he sensed Bastien watching, Onfroi cast him a baleful stare that evolved into a sinister sneer.
Bastien glowered at the pompous prick, then directed his attention to the flame-haired beauty who, Goddess willing, would soon become his wife. When he caught her attention, he kissed the emerald hair ribbon she had given him last night during the feast, tucking it securely inside his armor. He fisted his heart in a chivalrous gesture of fealty.
And unending love.
She dazzled him with a blindingly beautiful smile.
A trumpet blare announced the beginning of the Yuletide Joust. Two opponents in plate armor, their horses adorned in colorful caparisons bearing their respective coat of arms, heads protected bychanfronshields, were led to the starting positions on opposite ends of the tournament field where Esclados and Lancelot examined the lances for compliance withle Statut des Armes.
With the weapons approved, an official dropped a red flag, and the two contestants charged at top speed, lances held close, ponderous hooves thundering up the grassy field. With a resounding clash of metal, one rider was thrown from his horse, and his adversary declared the victor.
Six more jousts ensued, with an equal number of contenders eliminated.
And now, in the final challenge of the preliminary round, it was Bastien’s turn to tilt.
Under the cold, cloudy December sky, his surcoat and horse displaying the heraldic colors ofla Cornouaille, Bastien rode out onto the tournament field where Lancelot inspected and approved his weapon. On the opposite end of the field, his opponent, Sir Thérouac of Dinan, sat astride his own charger, clad in the distinctive red and yellow of his own coat of arms, receiving Esclados’ approval of his blunted lance.
When the flag dropped, Bastien flew toward his opponent, his lance couched tightly against his torso. Leveraging his body with the high cantle back of his saddle, he shattered the star-shaped coronal tip of his lance against Sir Thérouac’s shield, scoring one point.
Returning to the starting position, Max handed Bastien a new blunted lance which passed Lancelot’s inspection. The red flag dropped, and again, Bastien shattered the tip of his weapon against his opponent’s red and yellow shield.
The Parisian official moderating the Yuletide Joust declared Bastien de Landuc the winner of his challenge. Bastien advanced to the second round of competition.
With the preliminary round of jousting complete, the first intermission began.
Lively music from flutes and fiddles floated on the briny breeze. Acrobats soared in the sky and shrieks of glee filled the festive air. Tempting aromas of fresh bread, meat pies, exotic spices, and sweets mingled with laughter and gaiety under the pale winter sun.
Outside his tent, Bastien removed his blue-plumed helmet and wiped his sweaty brow. Despite the cold bite of the salty Breton breeze, his heavy plate armor had trapped and intensified the heat he’d expended in the joust.
A congratulatory grin stretching ear to ear, Max offered him a goblet of chilled ale and two aromatic meat pies, which Bastien devoured with relish.At least I can eat now. The physical exertion of the joust burned off some of the adrenaline.
When she rose to her feet among the royal spectators in the stadium, his gaze was instantly drawn to Gabrielle. Accompanied by Cardin and four royal guards, she descended the stairs, strolling arm-in-arm with Charlotte toward the row of red silk tents where food vendors sold sumptuous fare and spicy, delectable treats. Her long red tresses blowing in the salty ocean spray, she spotted him watching her.
And flashed him a brilliant, glorious smile.
