“Up ahead,” he said, pointing. “We shall be there shortly.”
Cathlina and her sisters ended up on their knees on the seats, straining to catch a glimpse of the tournament field and the banners. They entered the town from the road leading northeast, following the flow of people but veering off towardsthe northwest once they permeated the edge of the village. Saer wanted to circumvent the crowds that were heading towards the main entrance, taking his party through a less-crowded section of the berg and down a couple of the narrow, cramped streets.
It was mostly residential here, away from the merchants and the heart of town. It was also away from Mathias’ stall near the town square. Cathlina was no longer looking forward but gazing back, now watching the road to the town center fade from view. When it was gone completely, she sadly turned away, wondering now when she would have the opportunity to see Mathias.
As she formulated a plan, Saer took his party off of the avenue when they passed through a row of small homes and onto some open land. The sun had worked its magic and dried up the overly-wet grass and Saer called a halt and commanded that their two tents be set up. There were a few other parties around at this end of town, setting up small encampments, and Saer noticed a very big one almost immediately. He made his way over to the carriage.
“Look,” he said, pointing to a series of tents with a big crimson and gold standard flying over them. “If I am not mistaken, that is the Earl of Carlisle.”
“Cousin Tate?” Rosalund strained to catch a glimpse. “If this is true, then we must go and greet him immediately.”
Saer couldn’t disagree. He grasped her arm to steady her as she climbed from the carriage. “I should have known he would come,” he said. “This tournament is practically in his garden, it ’tis so close. I cannot recall the last time I saw the man.”
Rosalund was straightening her gown, her eyes on the encampment in the distance. “At Christmas,” she reminded her forgetful husband. “He extended an invitation for us to come to Carlisle Castle and we did.”
Saer nodded at the memory. “Ah, yes,” he said, tugging at the mail that was chaffing his armpit. “I remember now. I alsoremember there were quite a few children running about. He has quite a brood now, does he not?”
“Five children,” Rosalund said, distracted as she motioned her daughters out of the carriage. “Come along, my girls. We must greet Cousin Tate.”
Roxane climbed out, fussing with her hair, as Cathlina took Abechail in hand and gently helped her out. Abechail stumbled on the uneven ground but Cathlina steadied her. The gentle breeze blew her pale blue skirt about, and the white shawl waved softly against her body as she straightened out Abechail’s simple green surcoat with white ruffles around the neckline.
“You look very lovely today,” she told her little sister. “Are you excited for the games?”
Abechail nodded, curiously inspecting their surroundings. “I have never been to a tournament, you know.”
“I know.”
“Do men really try to spear each other?”
“Who told you that?”
“Rainey,” she replied, referring to their cook’s young son. “He said men drive big daggers into each other!”
Cathlina grinned. “He was also the one who told you that knights cannot see out of their visors.”
Abechail looked contrite. “Well,” she said reluctantly. “Some cannot.”
“That is not true. If they could not see, they would crash into everything and kill themselves.”
Abechail simply shrugged and averted her gaze, fussing with the sleeve of her surcoat. As far as she was concerned, Rainey knew much more than anyone else, even though Cathlina knew him to be a little boy with a big imagination. She stood there a moment, watching her little sister and thinking there was a good amount of color in her cheeks today. Usually, Abechail was so pale that to see some color in her face was unusual indeed.
The truth was that Abechail still wasn’t recovered from the near-abduction two days before. A sickly child even on the best of days, the struggle had taken something out of her. Rosalund had been fearful that it might render her weak for days but as the morning came about, Abechail had been dressed before any of them. She wasn’t going to allow a misadventure to spoil her fun. Besides, she spent most of her time in bed or resting due to her terrible health. She wasn’t going to miss today’s tournament no matter how poorly she felt.
Which wasn’t too terrible, considering. Abechail eyed her older sister, knowing that the woman was watching her closely for any signs of collapse, so it was best to put on a strong front. Taking Cathlina by the hand, she pulled her along after their mother as the woman forged a path across the soft, green meadow towards the crimson tents in the distance.
As the group of ladies drew close to the collection of tents, they noticed a fair amount of heavily armed soldiers patrolling the encampment. When one of them saw the group of women approach, he went to greet them and to discover their business. No sooner had the women come to a halt than a scream went up in the largest tent and two small blond boys suddenly charged out.
The attention shifted from the incoming visitors to the escaping children. It was evident that the soldiers on patrol knew what to do, as if fleeing toddlers were the norm in their world. The little boys separated; one ran one way and one ran the other, but the soldiers in the vicinity were on to their game and easily corralled them. As angry screaming fits ensued, a finely dressed and beautiful woman with honey-colored hair emerged from the largest tent.
“Dylan!” she scolded. “Alex! Oh, good heavens… you naughty boys!”
The children were fussing as the soldiers who had captured them took them back towards the woman. She took one toddler from a grinning soldier and went to collect the second child when she caught sight of the four women at their camp’s perimeter. After some serious squinting to try and gain a look at who they were, the woman’s face suddenly relaxed with recognition.
“Rosalund!” she called, waving a free hand. “Greetings!”
The soldier, realizing that his mistress knew the women he had detained, allowed them to proceed into camp. In spite of the fact that the mistress had two young boys screaming unhappily in her arms, she went quickly to meet them.
“Rosalund!” she greeted happily. “What in the world are you doing here? Is Saer competing today?”
