“Gentlemen! Please!” Sir Thomas fairly shouted. “King Henry sent Lady Bronwyn here for a wedding, a happy occasion.”
Bronwyn jerked from Stephen’s grasp. “Happy! How can you say the word when I am to be married to this greedy, insufferable lowling? I swear I’ll murder him in his sleep the first opportunity I get.”
Stephen smiled at her. “So long as it’s after the wedding night, I might be content.”
Bronwyn sneered.
“Lady Bronwyn!” Sir Thomas commanded. “Would you leave us?”
She took a deep breath. She’d said what she wanted, and now she could no longer bear being near Stephen. With great grace Bronwyn lifted her skirts and stepped from the room.
“Stephen,” Sir Thomas began. “I wouldn’t like to be the cause of your murder.”
“I’m not threatened by the words of a woman.”
Sir Thomas frowned. “You say that from innocence. You’ve never been north to the Highlands. There is no government there, not like we have. The lairds rule their clans, and no one rules the lairds. All Lady Bronwyn has to do is murmur discontent, and every man, or woman for that matter, in her clan would be ready to end your life.”
“I am willing to take that chance.”
Sir Thomas stepped forward and put a hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “I knew your father, and I feel he wouldn’t want me to send his son into sure death.”
Stephen stepped back from the friendly hand. His face changed into one of furor. “I want that woman! You have no right to take her from me.” He whirled on Roger, who had begun to smile. “I’ll meet you on a battlefield, and then we’ll see who is most worthy to claim chiefship.”
“Accepted!” Roger snapped. “Tomorrow morning. The winner will wed her in the afternoon, bed her at night.”
“Done!”
“No,” Sir Thomas murmured, but he knew he’d lost. They were two hot-blooded young men. He sighed heavily. “Leave me, both of you. Prepare your own battlefield. I want nothing to do with it.”
Chapter Four
STEPHEN STOOD BESIDE HIS STALLION, COVERED IN STEELfrom head to foot, the sun beating down on his armor. It was weighing him down, but he’d long ago learned to handle its weight.
“My lord,” his squire said, “the sun will be in your eyes.”
Stephen nodded curtly. He was well aware of the fact. “Let Chatworth have what advantage he can. He’ll need it.”
The boy smiled in pride at his master. It had taken a long while to dress Sir Stephen in the layers of padded cotton and leather that went under the steel plates.
Stephen mounted his horse with ease, then reached to take his lance and shield from the boy. He didn’t bother to look to his right. He knew Bronwyn stood there with a face as white as the gold-trimmed ivory dress she wore. It didn’t help his spirit any to know the woman would like to see him lose or perhaps even be killed.
He adjusted the long wooden lance against his armor. He and Roger had not spoken since last night, and Sir Thomas had been true to his word; he was ignoring the fight. Thus no rules had been established. It was a joust, a fight to see who could stay on his horse longest.
Stephen’s war-horse, a massive black stallion with heavy feathering on its feet, pranced once in impatience. The animals were bred for power and stamina rather than swiftness.
Stephen’s men surrounded him, then pulled back as Roger appeared at the far end of the sand-covered field. A low wooden fence ran down the center.
Stephen lowered his helmet plate, leaving only a slit for his eyes, his head completely covered. A young man raised a banner, and when he lowered it, the two noble men charged at each other, lances raised. It was not a test of speed, but of strength. Only a man in the peak of condition could withstand the lance shattering against his shield.
Stephen gripped his horse hard with his powerful thighs when Roger’s lance squarely hit his shield. The lance shattered, as did Stephen’s. Stephen reined his horse back to his end of the field.
“He’s good, my lord,” one of Stephen’s men said as he handed his master a new lance. “Watch the tip this time. I think he means to run it under your shield.”
Stephen nodded curtly and shut his helmet again.
The banner was lowered to begin the second charge. All Stephen had to do was knock his opponent from his horse, and by all rules of jousting, he’d win. When Roger charged again, Stephen dipped his shield lower and effectively kept Roger from hitting him. Taken aback, Roger didn’t see Stephen’s lance as it struck his side. He reeled in the saddle and nearly fell from the mighty blow, but he managed to keep his seat.
“He’s dazed,” the man at Stephen’s side said. “Hit him this time and he’ll go down.”
