Ramsay knew that surprise was his greatest asset, and on impulse, he chose. “The flail,” he said crisply.
Rufus turned to look at him, surprised into revealing his own satisfaction with the choice.
Evangeline caught her breath.
Ramsay smiled, liking how his confidence awakened doubt in Rufus’ gaze.
“And so it shall be,” Lord Haynesdale said. “The barrier will be removed before we resume.” He waved and the knights retreated to their tents, Hugues hastening forward to mutter over the damage to Ramsay’s armor.
An alewife appeared near the field then, selling cups of her brew to those who gathered around her. A baker, similarly prepared for the event, rolled out a cart of stuffed buns and began to shout their merit. Indeed, there was a festive mood in the meadow, though it was one Ramsay himself did not share.
He dismounted to let Hugues examine his injuries, such as they were, knowing the next fight would be a vicious one.
* * *
“I never expectedsuch excitement in our visit to Dunhaven,” Lady Haynesdale said while the arrangements were made for the next contest. “Why, we thought we came merely for a wedding, which is a happy event to be sure, but it is years since I have attended a tournament.”
Evangeline could not bring herself to reply.
The flail. The very name of the weapon filled her with despair.
What had been in Ramsay’s thoughts to choose such a weapon? Evangeline was horrified by the sight of the pair of them, carried from the armory for the inspection of Rufus’ armorer and Lord Haynesdale.
They were vile weapons, with a metal haft perhaps the length of her own stride, affixed with a chain to a metal ball graced with many metal points. Evangeline did not doubt that a single blow could maim or kill a man.
Why had Ramsay picked it? Any fool could see that Rufus was taller and weightier than Ramsay and she feared that with this weapon, that was no small advantage.
The men examined them both and professed themselves satisfied that the two weapons were the same, of the same weight, with chains of the same length and breadth.
The knights approached then, her own tribute now bound around Ramsay’s upper arm. Evangeline watched as Rufus picked up the flail and swung it, as if it weighed no more than a trinket. She knew she did not imagine that Ramsay had to heft it with a little more vigor, or that his lips set as if with the strain of the weight.
She saw Rufus’ grin before he closed his helm and marched to the middle of the field. The barrier was gone and the two knights faced each other grimly. Once again, she gripped her hands tightly together and strove for composure.
To her surprise, Lady Haynesdale nudged her hard. She looked at the lady, then followed her gaze down. Lady Haynesdale’s cloak hung over the edge of her chair, a detail she had noted earlier and wondered about. It was warm this day for a cloak.
The chair was familiar enough, wrought much like a cross on its side. There were similar chairs at Inverfyre, made of wooden frames with leather straps strung between them. Each could be collapsed flat, then opened wherever one desired.
When she did not realize the lady’s point, Lady Haynesdale claimed Evangeline’s hand, guiding it between them as she watched the knights. Evangeline kept her features impassive as her fingers brushed against wood, hidden beneath the cloak but not part of the chair. She traced the shape of whatever it was and found the hook that always graced the end of a crossbow.
Her gaze flicked to that of Lady Haynesdale, who smiled serenely back at her. “Do I recall correctly that peregrine falcons are bred at Inverfyre, and that your family is one much enamored of the hunt?”
“You do,” Evangeline agreed. “My father’s falconer is most proud of his charges.”
“I do not believe I ever met your mother.”
“Aileen of Abernye, a noted huntress in her own right.”
“What a fine union your parents must have. A huntress and the Hawk.” She laughed lightly. “A Hawk who raises hawks. I suppose you eat venison often.” She smacked her lips.
“We do,” Evangeline agreed, feeling the gentle nudge of Lady Haynesdale tipping the crossbow toward her. Was it Ramsay’s weapon of choice? Whether it was or not, Evangeline was glad of its proximity.
The knights swung their flails, Rufus’ moving with greater speed. The studded ball struck Ramsay’s shoulder and he cried out as he stumbled, though Evangeline was certain he had retreated a step in the nick of time. Rufus laughed and swung again, though the flail struck the ground hard as Ramsay rolled away to evade it.
“There must be a bolt,” she whispered in the same moment that the flail struck the ground and made the very earth shake. The assembly gasped and leaned forward as Ramsay rose slowly to his feet.
Lady Haynesdale’s eyes twinkled as she whipped a bolt out of her sleeve and slid it into Evangeline’s. “Only one,” she said in an undertone. “’Twas all I could manage, my dear. You must make it count.”
* * *
