Lord Yves drank from his goblet, then continued. “I name Sir Alexander de Mandeville as champion.” He looked at Zander.
Zander stood and walked down to Lord Yves to receive the sword. He raised it high so everyone could see it. Cheers and board thumping erupted. His gaze found Elinor, who had stood to get a good view, and Hugo, who pounded his table.
“The coin is above,” Lord Yves said. “To discourage the less angelic among us from sin. Don’t forget to have me give it to you.”
Zander laughed along with those who heard. As if any man would forget one hundred marks.
He carried the sword back to his place and laid it along the front of the table. Lady Judith admired the jewel set in its hilt. Then she turned greedy eyes in his direction and laid a possessive hand on his thigh under the table.
Elinor ate enough to last her a week. Lord Yves had not spared the expense on this feast, and it made the other two she had enjoyed look poor in comparison. Many dishes passed under her nose, their scents making her heady and their flavors making her swoon. She had never understood the sin of gluttony before this meal, but presumably, those most like to succumb to it were fed like this all the time.
Her father actually gave up before she did, but he had indulged too much at the start. She had taken only morsels so that she could taste it all.
“I told you coming to this tourney would be a good thing,” he said while he watched her chew a bite of wild boar.
“I will agree now, as long as you do not complain when I serve you nothing but soup for the next month.”
His gaze shifted to some dancers performing in front of the high table. “I won’t complain, if that is all there is.” He grinned as if he assumed that she was joking.
She wasn’t. The only improvement in their fortune was her father still had that armor Zander had brought for him to use. She would try to find Angus and ask him to come and get it before they left tomorrow. Which meant the total of this adventure’s benefits had been this food.
And, of course, being with Zander for a few days.
She looked at the dancers, which meant she saw him. That widow sat next to him and wore a triumphant smile. Perhaps the decision had not been Matilda after all. Lady Judith brought more, of course, and a status as lord of her manor. Zander would want the latter. Most men would, even if it meant having a wife who somehow always looked. . . hungry.
She tore her gaze away. The table across the fires had emptied, and servants were breaking down the boards and moving benches. Dancing would begin soon.
Her father reached for a honey cake. “Just one more,” he said when she gave him a scolding look. “They can do this table last.”
One more meant two, and another tumbler of ale. She waited impatiently for him to finish. She did not want to watch the dancing. It was time to leave this tourney and return to their regular life.
A warmth behind her. A presence she knew bending down. “Meet me outside,” Zander whispered in her ear.
She looked back, to find him gone. She debated what to do.
Her father misunderstood. “Don’t be waiting on me,” he said. “Go and say goodbye if you want to.”
She pushed her way through the hall. The night had brought mist and a brisk, cool breeze. She looked for Zander once she left the building.
Suddenly he was beside her. He took her hand and led her toward the garden. She went with him, but a strong scold formed in her mind.
She pulled her hand away once they were under the tree in the garden. The shadows of the swaying leaves caused a lively dance in the dull moonlight falling in patches around them.
“Do not think to kiss me,” she said. “You are betrothed and being unfaithful to your vows should wait a little while, at least.”
He leaned his back against the tree trunk. “What makes you think I am betrothed?”
“I saw you talking with Lord Marcus. If you have not yet received his agreement, you should make haste. This tourney is over and the pavilions will be struck tomorrow.”
“He was telling me that his daughter had a change of heart. She thought I looked very small in the melee next to Sir Bjorn and decided a very big Norseman would suit her better.”
“What a stupid child. They don’t even speak the same language. One even wonders how they will manage to . . .” She crossed her arms, finding herself quite vexed with Matilda.
“Manage to what? Ah. You mean with him so big and her so little, how will they manage things in the marriage bed? I will show you the most likely way.” He reached for her.
She stepped back. “I think you have been too clever by half if you lost that opportunity. A few smiles, and she would have been yours. Lady Judith may bring more, but you are stuck with a woman I don’t think it will be pleasant to live with.”
“I agree. She does not suit me.”
