“Nay,” Alexander said. “He does not know what I am saying, and if you live through this, and he asks, you will tell him that I simply wished you well against a legend. And that is all I am going to do—wish you well. But remember who you are competing against. You have done a splendid job, William, but you have the rest of your life to continue to make your mark. Chris has already made his. Let him keep it.”
With that, he walked away, leaving William mulling over his words. After a moment, he smiled and lowered his visor.
The stage was set.
As the roar of the crowd rose to deafening proportions, every knight who was competing at the tournament, and every squire, every page, was lined up on the south side of the tournament arena, watching the match from a distance. That included Addax and Essien, who had come all the way down from Cumbria for this. They’d even traveled with William’s group from Northwood part of the way, and by the end of it, they were ready to throttle de Norville and bury the body. But even so, they were quite interested in this match, just like everyone else.
History was being made this day.
“There will never be another match like this one,” Addax said, watching Christopher adjust the strap on his lance. “De Wolfe has taken the north by storm, you know. They say there is no man finer in battle. And Hereford… Well, his legend needs no introduction. We already know his greatness.”
Essien nodded, watching the marshals take their places. “This pass will determine if Hereford passes the torch of greatness on to William or if he keeps it a little while longer.”
“True,” Addax said. “Speaking of greatness, how was your wife feeling this morning?”
Essien looked at him. “Well,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
Addax shrugged. “Because Emmeline said the woman ate nonstop yesterday,” he said. “Anything she could get her hands on. And it did not upset her stomach?”
Essien grinned. “It did not,” he said. “She was eating again this morning when she awoke, and is probably eating now. My son demands a good deal of food because he is going to be big and strong like his father.”
Addax chuckled. “Let us pray,” he said. “Emmy’s pregnancies were not so easy. It was difficult to convince her to eat at times.”
Essien was still smiling, spying his wife across the arena because she was wearing a gorgeous blue garment. She stood out. At six months pregnant, she was showing nicely and Essien could not have been prouder.
Or more in love.
“Not my beloved Cat,” he said. “God has been good that she has been so well.”
Addax had to grin at his lovesick brother. As the bout was about to get underway, he glanced down the line of knights standing at the railing. Jonathan was standing next to Essien and he was cheering for Christopher because his own brother had knocked him out of the semifinal rounds. Beside him stood Ashton, who had made it down from Pelinom Castle, where he usually served, and Peter, who was calling reassurances to his father on the field. Cassian, of course, was present, but Brielle was pregnant again and hadn’t made the trip. It was the familiar crew of men, all of them joined together once again to watch this historic event.
One that happened in a heartbeat when the marshal finally dropped the flag.
As an entire arena of rabid fans watched with anticipation, William de Wolfe and Christopher de Lohr charged one another with lances leveled. The horses they were riding were big, heavily muscled, and made for the sport. For each inch of ground the horses covered, time seemed to drag out. It was going more slowly. It was going in reverse until they came within range of each other. There was a cataclysmic crash and wood went flying into the air as lances shattered, but William also lost his grip on his lance and the thing went flipping into the guide, destroying it. Losing a lance, or being unseated, meant the bout was over and the points went to the competitor who had retained his lance and his seat.
There was a winner.
The legend had retained his title.
People went mad with excitement. They began to throw flowers and coins and anything else they could get their hands on down to the field. It was positively raining all sorts of things. The knights watching the event on the south railing began to flood onto the field, heading for the champion as he drew his horse to a halt.
Christopher de Lohr was that champion.
Still.
“Well done, my lord!” Addax called to him as he drew near. “A worthy match!”
Christopher handed his lance down to Peter and Alexander, who reached up to help him. But once the lance was handed down, Christopher flipped up his visor and sought out William, on the other side of the arena.
“Stay here,” he told those around him. “I will return shortly.”
With that, he cantered across the dirt, reining his horse over to William, who was in the process of handing his helm down to Paris. He hadn’t dismounted yet. Kieran had hold of the horse,checking the animal for any damage. Christopher pulled his horse alongside William.
“You two,” he said, indicating Paris and Kieran. “Leave us.”
The two knights did, but Paris was reluctant to move until Kieran dragged him away. When they were out of earshot, Christopher looked at William.
“A fine match, William,” he said, his blue eyes twinkling. “Your father would have been proud.”
