Mathias stood in one of the smaller rooms of their large smithy stall, dressed in heavy battle armor from head to toe. It was mostly mail with pieces of plate over his shoulders and a fitted breastplate that was emblazoned with the crest of Banbury. It wasn’t his own beloved armor, custom-crafted protection that had been taken from him along with his precious broadsword on that cold January day, but it was acceptable. At least, it would have to do for his purposes.
Sebastian was with him, fitting the pieces left behind by de Lovern over his brother’s muscled body, but neither brother so much as paused when Justus delivered his ominous news. They kept going.
“Icancompete and I most certainly will,” Mathias said as he fussed with the hauberk around his face. “With Tate competing, that will make the games far more interesting.”
Justus was quickly growing distraught. “Have you lost your mind?” he hissed. “If the earl sees you, he will arrest us all!”
Mathias shook his head steadily. “He will not arrest us,” he assured his father as he finished with the hauberk. “You worry overly.”
Justus could see that his words were falling on deaf ears and his anxiety grew. He was already in a panic since hearing about de Lara’s entry. Now, there was no stopping his fear.
“Why?” he pleaded as Mathias began to walk away to collect his tournament weaponry. “Why must you do this? I do not understand!”
Mathias picked up the first of three joust poles that he and Sebastian had worked through the night to forge. This pole was very well made with a rounded tip. The two other poles had a tip that looked like a fist and one that had a crow’s foot tip because it literally looked like a bird’s foot.
As Mathias pondered his answer, Sebastian came over to the table with a collection of fabric in different shades of yellow. As he began securing a large piece of fabric to one of the poles, Justus began pointing furiously.
“And there is another thing,” he said. “Where did you get the banners?”
Mathias glanced at Sebastian, who was focused on his work. “We borrowed them.”
Justus’ eyes narrowed. “Youstolethem!”
Mathias shook his head patiently. “We borrowed them from a few merchants,” he repeated. “We shall either pay them for the goods or return them, depending on the condition of the fabric when we are finished.”
Justus threw up his hands. “You stole the fabric during the night because the shops were not open for business,” he said. “You are thieves!”
Mathias took one of the strips of fabric from his brother and began fastening it to the top of the pole. “No one even saw us,” he said casually. “We were ghosts.”
“Phantoms!” Sebastian piped up.
Mathias grinned at his brother. “They will never realize it is missing.”
As the brothers jested, Justus turned away in frustration. They weren’t taking any of this seriously and it was a deadly serious situation. With the unanticipated addition of the Earl ofCarlisle in the tournament, the stakes were much higher than they could possibly imagine. He knew Mathias was aware. He couldn’t understand why the man wasn’t treating the situation with more concern. Baffled, and reaching the apex of what he could emotionally handle, he collapsed onto the nearest stool.
“We will all be arrested,” he moaned, raking his fingers through his long, gray hair. “It is not fair that I should live to see my sons perish. I have done all that I can to protect them but they will not listen.”
Mathias heard the man’s soft utterings, casting a long glance at Sebastian before turning to his father. They knew their father was worried. The truth was that they were worried, too, but it did not deter them.
“Da,” he said softly, firmly. “Look at me. I know you are concerned but there is truly nothing to be concerned over. If I thought the risk was too great, I would not do it.”
Instead of looking at Mathias as he had been asked, Justus looked away. “You are taking a terrible and reckless chance.”
Mathias sighed faintly. “Let me tell you why I feel this opportunity is neither terrible nor reckless,” he said. “I am wearing armor that is not identifiable. It is in no way related to or indicative of Mathias de Reyne. The Patins we paid handsomely for at Lanercost Abbey is flawless. I made sure of it when the priest drew it up. For all anyone will know, I am Sir Chanson de Lovern. No one will ever see my face. I will compete, I will win, and we will have a tidy sum to do with as we please.”
Justus looked at his son as if he were daft. “What if there are people at the tournament who know de Lovern? They will know you are not him.”
Mathias shrugged. “I would wager to say that he was not very well known or very well liked if no one came looking for him after his death,” he replied. “I am unconcerned over someonerecognizing de Lovern’s name or armor. He was an obscure knight, and obscure he shall remain.”
“Not after you win this tournament using his name.”
“Then mayhap that will allow the man some fame in death that he never achieved in life. It is the least I can do for him since I have stolen his armor and identity.”
Mathias had an answer for everything. After a moment, Justus sighed heavily and looked away, shaking his head. “I hope this girl is worth the danger you are putting yourself in.”
Before Mathias could reply, the young orphaned boy that they employed to clean up and run errands appeared. Stewart was a skinny child with a crown of wild red hair that looked more like bristly hay, but he was surprisingly well spoken and obedient. He focused on Justus.
“My lord,” he said. “A man is here to see you.”
