She heard his footfalls and knew he had already claimed the solar for his own.
The door was securely locked and the window was so high above the ground that looking down made her dizzy. She stared over the encampment of guests as the light faded and wished she could think of some resolution to her dilemma.
She both wanted Ramsay to come to her aid and wished him to stay away that he might be safe. She sat at the window, wishing all might be otherwise but knowing there was naught she could do.
But wait.
And so it was that Evangeline was wide awake and still dressed when the fanfare carried from the gates in the soft light of the dawn. She leaned out the window and caught her breath at the sight of a dapple destrier approaching the gates.
Foudre! Her heart leapt with conviction of that. Ramsay must be alive!
She scarce recognized the beast, for he was magnificently outfitted with caparisons of deepest blue, edged with silver fleur-de-lis. The leather of his trap was dyed deep blue and there were silver accents upon it that caught the light. His dark mane had been braided against his neck and his ebony tail was brushed out so that it swept the ground like a cascade of ebony silk. The stallion was proud of himself, prancing and tossing his head, his dark hooves gleaming with what must have been Hugues’ fastidious care.
Aye, that was Hugues following the rider on foot. The boy was dressed in matching livery of that midnight blue with a thin silver edge hemming his tabard. His hair was brushed to a gleam and a dagger glinted at his belt.
But ’twas the knight in the saddle whose appearance made Evangeline’s heart still. Ramsay’s plate armor might have been made of sterling, so brightly did it shine. He wore a dark blue cloak she had never seen before, one lined with silver fur, fastened to his shoulder with a large jeweled pin. His tabard fell to the top of his armored thighs, and it was of the same deep blue as the horse’s caparisons, embellished with the head of a lion and that line of fleur-de-lys. His belt was lavishly decorated and hung with the weight of his sword, its jeweled hilt fine beyond belief. She saw the spurs upon his heels though his helmet ensured she would not see his face.
He halted before the gates on his horse and Hugues blew another fanfare. “My lord Ramsay MacLaren demands admission to the keep of Dunhaven!” he shouted and Evangeline watched villagers spill forth at the commotion. She saw Lady and Lord Haynesdale fast behind Ramsay, already garbed in their finest, and knew this was no surprise to them.
That was how Lady Haynesdale had known about Lawrence’s demise.
“Rufus Percival, Lord of Dunhaven,” Ramsay roared. “Show yourself and face the charge placed against you, that you willfully killed your own father, Lawrence Percival, formerly Lord of Dunhaven, and that you strove to kill your betrothed, Evangeline Armstrong of Inverfyre, to ensure she did not speak of witnessing your deed.”
“There is no witness of either!” Rufus roared and Evangeline realized he leaned out the window above her. “None of any repute.”
“I take umbrage at your assertion,” Ramsay said. “For I witnessed your attack upon the lady with mine own eyes.” He drew his sword and held it high. “I challenge you, Rufus Percival, to mortal combat, for God will surely recognize your guilt.”
His words hung in the air and Evangeline watched the sentries and the villagers, even Lord and Lady Haynesdale, look up at the window above her own.
“Ensure your affairs are in order, Ramsay MacLaren,” Rufus declared. “At midday, I will meet you in that field to defend my honor.”
Ramsay bowed his head and sheathed his sword, turning Foudre to walk the horse away from the gates. The field in question was the large meadow beyond the tents of Lord and Lady Haynesdale, both flat and broad. Rufus shouted orders from above and people raced to fulfill their duties below. Within moments, both keep and village were veritable hives of activity. Evangeline sat at her window and watched as more guests began to arrive for the nuptials. As the sun climbed higher, she began to fear that she would be compelled to watch the competition from a distance, then the key turned audibly in the lock.
The door swung open to reveal Rufus, garbed in his armor, his tabard graced with his insignia of green and white. His helm was under his arm, his gloves tucked into his belt. If she had thought his gaze cold before, it was frigid now. He offered one hand to her, his expression so stony that Evangeline did not hasten to take it.
She rose to her feet warily.
“And so the moment has come,” he said, with undisguised satisfaction.
Evangeline saw that there was an exultation in his manner, as if he meant to enjoy the battle. Would he cheat? Aye, if he could manage as much. She feared then for Ramsay as she would not in a fair competition. Surely so many eyes could not miss any trickery?
“I would not wish for you to miss his demise,” he said. “Although if Fortune is with him, he may still languish in my dungeon. Come.” His tone was unyielding and she feared him in that moment as never she had before. His smile was yet worse. “You may be assured that I will save your reckoning for later, my lady. I wish for you to witness Ramsay MacLaren’s end.”
With that warranty of her safety, as slender as it was, Evangeline put her hand upon his and allowed Rufus to escort her from her chamber.
She had thought he might urge her to the field, but instead, they halted at the stables. He inspected his destrier, leaving her alone there for a precious moment to fetch some item, but she had time only to realize there was nowhere she might flee before he returned. Then he climbed into the high saddle with the aid of a squire, and urged the horse toward the gates. Evangeline walked alongside, still wishing there was something she could do to aid Ramsay.
Perhaps being calm in the face of such madness was best. She did not dare distract him.
But it was in that moment she remembered Nigel’s dagger sewn into her hem. She would work it free while she was unobserved by Rufus, that she might have it in her boot later.
She might have need of its slender advantage.
* * *
By Rufus’choice, they began with the lance.
Of course, that only meant that Ramsay’s opponent intended a grand finish with the flail.
