Tate thought hard. “I recall a Jasper de Gare.”
“His brother.”
Tate sighed sharply and returned to what he had been doing. “I remember them now,” he said. “Quinton is a big man but, if I recall correctly, not a very good warrior. Jasper was the warrior.”
“You would be right.”
They continued to prepare their equipment in silence for a few moments until Tate spoke again.
“My opponent,” he said, “what is his name? De Lovern? I believe that is Banbury’s heir.”
Kenneth was extremely careful in how he reacted or what he said. He was well aware that de Lovern was Mathias. He hadn’t seen the man since the incident with Cathlina de Lara that morning but an hour later, his big bay charger had been missing and was now the mount of an unknown knight named de Lovern, who happened to be Tate’s first round opponent. The way the man moved, his skill with a horse, and the way he handled his weaponry made it very, very clear to Kenneththat Mathias had taken his advice. He had entered himself in the tournament and, by a stroke of luck, drew Tate as his first opponent.Oh, the irony, Kenneth thought.
“I have not heard of him before,” Kenneth said casually.
“He is riding a charger that looks very much like the one you purchased in York last month.”
“Is he? I had not noticed.”
Tate finished with the strap he had been repairing. “Did you check to see if your horse is missing?” he asked. “Mayhap de Lovern stole it.”
“If he has, I will run him through.”
“I will run him through for you. Since he will be competing against me, I will have more of an opportunity than you will.”
“I would not worry about it. Simply have a clean round and do not get hurt. It would forever scar your wife and children if you did.”
“Do not worry about me,” Tate said, looking over his horse to make sure he was prepared. “By the way, where is Mathias?”
Kenneth was still fussing with the stirrup, or at least pretending to. “I have not seen him since this morning.”
It wasn’t a lie. Tate continued to check his saddle. “I thought he might at least come to watch.”
Kenneth looked at him, then. “Would you?” he asked. “If all of this had once been yours and now you were denied what came naturally to you, knowing you were the best of the best, wouldyoucome to watch?”
Tate finished checking his saddle and looked at Kenneth. “Nay,” he said flatly. “I would come to compete.”
Kenneth didn’t know how to respond. He held Tate’s gaze steady before shrugging his shoulders and turning back to his stirrup. Tate eyed his very blond, very big friend a moment before moving to walk past him.
“If you happen to see de Lovern,” he said quietly, “tell him I plan to knock him on his arse and take your horse.”
Kenneth watched the man walk away. A faint smile creased his normally emotionless lips. It was certainly going to be an interesting bout, and one he was looking forward to.
He knew Tate was, too.
*
Kenneth’s round againstde Gare had been three very violent passes, resulting in two shattered joust poles for each of the competitors, but in the end Kenneth emerged the victor. As he made his victory pass in front of the roaring crowd, he was obliged to stop in front of Roxane and accept her blessing. He did so, but he didn’t take her hand and kiss it as most knights would have. He simply gave her a salute and rushed off.
Roxane was fairly upset that he hadn’t kissed her hand but she was soon distracted from her sorrow by a very young knight in the fifth round. He was tall and slender, with red hair, and he was very solicitous with Roxane before his bout. Either he hadn’t noticed St. Héver or he was too arrogant to care, because soon enough Roxane was enamored with the brash young knight who took to blowing her kisses after he won his bout against a fat knight who lost his balance and fell off after the first pass.
The sixth bout came and went without fanfare, as the knight from Gloucester unseated a knight from Ashbourne in the first pass. It was uneventful and the crowd grew restless until they realized that the Earl of Carlisle was up next against an unknown knight named de Lovern. Pages ran out to rake the field, filling in any holes, and the guides were checked to ensure they were steady. After the field marshals checked everything, the flags of Carlisle and de Lovern were placed on the board and the crowd began to roar.
Mathias was the first to enter the field. The wild charger had settled down and was a truly beautiful and somewhat tame beast as he cantered across the field and took his position at the far end of the guide. Tate entered after him aboard his black and white steed and the crowd went mad, cheering excitedly for their earl. Mathias settled in, adjusting his borrowed gloves as Sebastian, his red hair tucked up under a skull cap, aided his brother with his lance.
“De Lara likes to aim for the neck,” Sebastian said quietly as he handed his brother the crow’s foot pole. “He will start out aiming for your chest but bring the pole up at the last minute.”
Mathias nodded patiently. “I know,” he said. “I have competed against the man many times.”
