“Not very useful in a war.”
“I am not thinking about a war.” Sir Lionel’s voice continued, lower, as if in confidence. “He was with Richard on Crusade. He is known to the king. He can get close to him when the king returns to the realm. If he returns, that is.”
A long pause. So long that she worried they had become aware of her presence on the other side of the tent wall.
“Would he do it?”
“He is angry and bitter. He is impoverished, and an offer of lands and a title will convince him, like many others. Only Richard thinks he is a friend, unlike the others.”
The implications of what she heard chilled her so much that she couldn’t move. Only when two women walked toward her, on their own way to the river, did she force herself to leave the back of that tent.
She hoped she misunderstood. If not, Sir Lionel was using her father badly, and had plans that could send Hugo of York to hell.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Sir Alexander de Mandeville and Sir Lionel of Wiltshire.” The marshal announced the combatants and Zander moved to the plot of field on which the competition would take place. A private combat. No horses and lances would be used per Sir Lionel’s requested terms.
He had never met Sir Lionel, but he could tell from the way the man wielded his sword that he was not young. Perhaps he had thirty-five years or so. His sword arm might have been strong ten years ago, but time had taken its toll. He set aside the temptation to finish this fast. There was no profit in humiliating the man. He parried and thrust and swung, and put on a good show. He even allowed his opponent a few sword blows to his shield.
Soon, however, the farce could not continue. Watching for treachery after what Angus had said, he swung the blows that brought Sir Lionel to his knees. In battle, the knight would soon be dead or captured. In a tournament, it ended here. Zander stepped back, and the marshal declared him the winner.
Sir Lionel stood and removed his helmet. He glared at Zander while he began unbuckling the bit of plate he wore.
“Keep them,” Zander said.
“They are forfeit.”
“Keep them.” He began walking away.
“Will you insult me by saying my arms are not good enough for you?” Lionel shouted.
Zander turned. “Will you insist I take them, leaving you nothing for the rest of the week?”
Lionel’s long nose twitched and his small eyes squinted. “I’ve more.”
“Fine. Your arms and horse are forfeit.” On his words, Angus walked to Lionel and helped him strip off the plate. He relieved him of his sword and carried it all over to Zander.
“Not much use for this,” he muttered.
“See if his squire comes to ransom it. Demand only what it is worth.”
They walked back to his tent. His next combat was soon enough that he did not divest himself of his mail and armor. He sat awkwardly and drank some ale and waited.
The next knight was more of a test. The man was not so old, and he showed quickly that he was more skilled. He was a big man, however, and that was not always a benefit. He fought furiously, which used strength up fast.
Zander played with him a good while, waiting for him to tire. When the signs of exhaustion showed, he executed his own offense and finally made the moves that brought the fellow down. Once again, Angus collected the arms.
The competition had lasted for almost an hour. The final one would be an hour hence, and part of the official jousts. Angus had warned him about the Scot. Just his luck that one would be last.
This time he did remove his armor, so his body could rest better. Angus pressed some cheese on him, and more ale. He could feel his strength returning. He retreated into his thoughts, to prepare his mind as well as his body.
Elinor gave the soup a good stir. It bubbled lowly over the campfire under the canvas awning she had raised to protect her from the sun. Mostly she stirred to give her something to do while she worried over what she had heard in the neighboring tent earlier in the afternoon.
The competitions had continued all day but should be ending soon. She saw dots on the castle wall, from where some honored guests watched the competitions. Down here, more would be sitting on a stand to the side of the field where the knights jousted.
Thus far, no challenges had arrived at this tent. Hopefully, none would. Unfortunately, that had become the least of her concerns.
Another cheer went up. Elinor debated with herself. She needed to buy some bread. Why not go now, and take the long way there, so she could watch the tournament for a short spell as she made her way? It would at least distract her mind from its feverish wanderings.
