“Do you have tonight off?” Leopold asked.
“All day today and tonight,” I answered cheerfully, still watching Baron. “The older servants said they wanted the youth to enjoy themselves. Some of my friends and I are going to go to the dance together.”
“You aren’t accompanying anyone in particular?”
I didn’t answer.
On the field, the knight’s sword slipped low and Baron caught the opening at once. His blade struck hard against the knight’s weapon, knocking it wide, and in the next breath Baron stepped in and forced him down. The knight dropped his sword and fell to one knee.
The crowd erupted and Baron raised his arms in triumph. I applauded wildly along with everyone else and Baron glanced once toward me before taking his place at the winner’s bench.
The tournament director paired Baron as part of the first set of opponents for the second round, which I felt was unfair. The crowd surrounding me seemed to agree. A few people grumbled under their breath, and one man behind me muttered that the sheriff should have had time to recover like everyone else.
Everyone else had received ample time to rest, but Baron was going straight from one match to the next.
I sat forward, my fingers curling around the edge of my chair. I knew Baron was strong, but even strong men got tired. A careless mistake after a hard match could cost him, but his next opponent was the winning squire from the very first duel and the entire bout lasted about ten seconds.
The squire advanced with a half-hearted thrust, and Baron’s sword smashed against his opponent’s blade with such force thatthe squire’s weapon flew clean from his hand and landed several feet away in the grass.
The squire yelped, stumbled backward, then curled into a ball with his arms over his head.
The audience burst into laughter as Baron raised his fist triumphantly into the air.
“Quite an arrogant showman, isn’t he?” Leopold said nastily.
“He did just win back-to-back rounds. He has reason to be proud.” I clapped along with everyone else.
“He had an easy opponent.”
“Would you be a more difficult opponent?” I asked sweetly.
I could tell just by looking at Leopold that he would not pose any threat to Baron. His hands were too soft.
“I would,” Leopold said at once.
“I’m sure you would be.” I gave him an innocent smile. “I suppose you could always challenge him later to see who is better. I would very much like to watch that.”
Leopold’s eyes flicked toward Baron, who stood near the side of the field with his enormous arms folded across his broad chest. Even from a distance, his size was impossible to ignore. His expression was hard, his shoulders squared, and no one seemed particularly eager to stand too close to him.
Leopold cleared his throat. “I don’t need to prove anything. I know that I would win. Especially if it were a javelin contest.”
The next two knights entered the ring, and I turned back to watch them parry and swipe at each other. Apart from Baron’s most recent duel, all the matches were growing longer and fiercer. The opponents were tiring from their repeated battles. They puffed for breath between attacks, and sweat darkened the hair on their foreheads.
I looked almost longingly at the matches. I knew that body-wide ache and the sting of sweat in my eyes and missed it immensely. What I wouldn’t give for a good fight right aboutnow. Scrubbing floors and tending fireplaces wasn’t particularly thrilling.
Finally, the competition was whittled down to Baron and one last opponent. The knight Baron faced was flushed bright red, and his movements had grown slower and clumsier with every round. His shield sagged but he still looked grim and determined.
The match began, and the knight tried to end it quickly with a heavy swing. Baron sidestepped, blocked the next blow, and drove him backward with three sharp attacks. The knight managed to hold on longer than I expected, but not by much. Baron caught him off balance, swept his sword aside, and forced him to yield.
The crowd roared in approval, and I applauded long and loud along with them.
“So, Isabella,” Leopold said beside me, leaning closer to speak above the crowd’s noise, “you said you’re going to the dance tonight, but you didn’t say if you’re going with anyone.”
“No, I’m not accompanying anyone, my lord.”
“No need for ceremony. You may call me Leopold.” He flashed a toothy smile.
“Ah, begging your pardon, my lord, but I don’t think that would be proper. I’m just a servant. I wouldn’t feel right calling someone of your station by his first name.”
