“Because there is a prize for the champion? I confess that I know little of such events.”
“There are contests, competitions in which a knight is rewarded for his skills. They can require one knight to face another in competition. Or, in a melee, there are ransoms from one’s captives. Many a penniless knight has left a tournament with a fat purse, if his skill is considerable. Many a knight is tempted to increase his wealth at one, no matter how much affluence he possesses.”
“Like Rufus.”
“I believe his father was disinclined to fully support his taste for extravagance,” he confided but she shook her head again.
“It would seem that if there are riches to be earned, there must be judges and many watchful eyes,” she said. “It must be difficult to cheat.”
“Not so challenging as all of that. The stakes merit the risk, to be sure, and Rufus had his methods. In most cases, they could not be followed back to him.”
“How so?”
“I saw his face once after a knight’s lance broke in the joust. When Rufus raised his visor, his expression was one of such malice and triumph that I located the lance in question later. It looked to have been cut so that it would break more readily.” Ramsay frowned. “That knight lost an eye thanks to Rufus’ lance.”
Evangeline could not hide her dismay. “That poor man. All over a contest!”
“Over a rich prize and the favor of a king’s daughter, my lady.”
“But the truth must have come out!”
“’Twas one man’s word against the other. In that case, I believe the squire was blamed for failing to tend his knight’s weapons well.”
Evangeline exhaled, clearly disliking this tale. “How wicked.”
“Aye, but there was no proof of his treachery.”
“And he won the fat purse?”
“In that instance and others.”
“Others?” she invited.
“So many other occasions,” Ramsay said. “He would greet a competitor before the lists, pausing to rub the nose of that knight’s horse. He would treat his glove with a copious dusting of ground pepper before doing as much, then ensure he pressed it into the steed’s nostrils.”
“Oh!” Evangeline was outraged. “The flesh is very tender there.”
“It is indeed. Many a steed appeared to lose its wits immediately after Rufus spoke to it. That was why I began to wonder.”
Evangeline’s eyes were snapping with fury and Ramsay knew she believed him.
“He would bribe a squire, or even two, to slip a thorn beneath a knight’s saddle. They then would be set against each other, the first one to bring him the thorn afterward without detection gaining the greater reward.”
“Thus there would be no proof,” Evangeline said with indignation and Ramsay was glad they shared that perspective. “Fiend is too good a word for him.”
Indeed, her manner vastly improved his sense that they shared a common view. “Are you more outraged by his injury to the knight or to the horse?” he asked, teasing her a little.
“To the horse, of course.” Evangeline gestured. “A horse recognizes only cruelty and kindness. All the territory in between is not navigable. Basilisk cannot interpret a gesture or a tone of voice any better than a child. He is an innocent.”
“Albeit one with a fierce bite,” Ramsay felt compelled to note.
Her smile flashed before she continued. “And only a truly evil person would take advantage of his trust.”
“I think a horse has more wit than a child, my lady.”
“But still, to be cruel to such a creature is wrong beyond belief.” She flung out a hand. “It is similar to men who deceive young women, like Anna, into surrendering their chastity for pretty promises, then abandon them.”
“Surely there are those who might place you in such company?”
