If Not For The Knight, Debbie Boek [electronic reader TXT] 📗

When the cheers and applause from the crowd died down, King William stood and stared pointedly, first at Calder, then at Roderick, before he began to speak.

“A melee has been requested and, against my better judgment, I have agreed to it. You and your men are some of my finest knights. Remember that this is a game and do not cause me to lose my knights solely because of the vanity or animosity of their leaders.”

“This is a game,” he repeated sternly, “for the entertainment of my guests. Its purpose is to unseat your opponents from their horses. You are all experienced enough to show off your skill with weapons without causing any undue injuries, or deaths. See to it that is how you play it.”

The King’s tone was firm. He knew with whom he was dealing, and he also knew that not all the men sitting in front of him would leave this field alive.

Each of the knights raised their shields to him and bowed their heads before backing up their horses and heading to their end own of the field.

Each man carried a dagger, a broadsword and a lance. Some bore extra weapons, as well, which they preferred over the others. Draco carried a mace, a heavy clublike weapon with metal tipped ends. Only someone with much experience handling one could use it with the ease that he did. A couple of Calder's men preferred poleaxes and, again, only men with experience could wield the long-handled axes successfully.

Their shields were made of wood and boiled leather, with Calder's coat of arms, a golden griffon painted on a red background, on the face of them. The shields were tied across their shoulders on a leather thong for protection, while at the same time allowing them use of both hands.

Regan, watching from the stands, found it difficult to breathe. She heard the King's warning and desperately hoped that the knights would heed it. There was no mistaking the look on their faces as they sat in front of the king. No quarter would be given. Her palms began to sweat and her heart raced in fear for them.

As much as she cared about Draco and the other men, she could not tear her eyes from Calder's tall, proud body as he melded with his horse and began the charge across the field.

Much of her view was blurred as the battle began. The horses' great hooves kicked up so much dust as to render the men almost invisible at times, but never did it dull the sharp sound of metal striking metal.

She gasped as she saw Garrick struck in the shoulder by a lance. He dropped his own, but was able to keep to his horse. Calder and Davis took up either side of him, battling off Roderick's men so that Garrick had time to get control of his horse and draw his sword.

In a blur of armor, the enormous horses were turned in small, tight circles, as the knights sought to fight off new threats. Most of them had thrown down their lances after the first charge. The weapons were fourteen feet long and of no use in close combat. Nervously, Regan watched as three of Roderick's men removed themselves from the heat of the battle, and then positioned their lances as if to for another charge.

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw that they were lined up with Calder, whose back was to them as he battled two others with his broadsword. Regan screamed when she saw them spur their horses forward in his direction. There was too much noise and confusion for any of the knights to have heard her, but Draco saw them coming. With a herculean swing of his mace, he struck his opponent. The blow was so hard that the man's helmet dented and he fell to the ground with a thud.

Turning his horse, Draco arrived behind Calder just as Graeham did and, together, they were able to repel the attack on him. Regan almost fainted in relief as she watched.

Calder grunted in pain as one of the broadswords slipped through the laces that held his armor together, piercing his chainmail and slicing into his side. It was not a deep cut though, and did not keep him from continuing to fight.

Kenny and Holt had dispatched several more of Roderick's men and moved to his aide, as well. The flat of Holt's sword struck one of his opponents square in the back, knocking him ass over teakettle onto the ground. The other, Calder faced down alone as Kenny kept watch for the next attack.

“We have the advantage, Roderick. Will you cede?” Calder yelled. Their numbers were much greater now than his. There was no need for more injuries or deaths.

“To you?” Roderick laughed. “Never.”

“Then cause no more harm to your own men. Let this end between just you and me.”

Roderick narrowed his eyes through his helmet, his hatred almost palpable. He would look the coward if he refused the challenge, but he could not risk Calder walking off the field alive. “We have fought worse odds and will not run from you now.”

“So be it then.” Calder raised his sword into the air and his men joined him in a bloodcurdling war cry as the two groups charged each other.

Even with the difference in numbers, always two men attacked Calder. An admirable fighter, even Calder could not continue to ward off two knights at a time. The armor was heavy and stiff, making movement difficult, and there was too much of a disadvantage when attacked from both sides. Draco took up a position at his side, to ensure no harm came to his leader.

Wildly swinging his mace, hitting one man so perfectly that his helmet swung backwards around his head and later had to be removed by a blacksmith, Draco continued to protect Calder's weak side.

Soon Roderick had few men still astride, although many littered the ground around them.

“Stand back, men,” Calder commanded as he slowly walked his sweating horse in Roderick's' direction, sword at the ready.

“You and me, Roderick, we finish now what you started so long ago.”

Their horses rushed toward each other, their swords clanged unmercifully, the impact sending dull shards of pain up each of their arms, but neither would relent as they continued their deadly battle.

It soon became evident that Roderick was tiring. His thrusts were not as hard, his parries not as quick. Calder was forced to turn away from him though, when he heard Draco roar out a warning.

One of Roderick's fallen men, who was just slightly injured, stood and swung his own sword at Calder from the ground. Calder yanked back hard on the reins and Alerio reared into the air. Sensing danger, the animal's hooves landed directly on the man as he came back down, making an ugly thudding sound as he crushed his chest.

Roderick took advantage of those few moments, having seen the hole already made between the armor in Calder's side. He rushed in and thrust his sword through it, sinking his blade deep.

Calder, ignoring the burning pain, turned his attention back to Roderick. Seeing an opening in the crinet—the chainmail covering over the horse's neck—he, in turn, plunged his sword into it, killing the horse. The great destrier rolled to the ground, pinning Roderick underneath it.

In an instant, Calder was beside him. His anger at Roderick's dirty tricks, his memory of their prior altercations and the adrenaline from the battle, all combined to make him forget everything and everyone, other than his desire for vengeance. He ripped off Roderick's helmet and was gratified to see the fear in the fallen man's eyes.

“Calder,” Draco called out sharply, seeing the deadly intent on his friend's face, “now is not the time.”

Calder hesitated, sanity returning as he realized where he was. To dispatch Roderick now would be murder, and to commit murder in the King's presence was a grievous offence. He would die himself for doing so, never having seen the babe that Regan carried, never able to watch Radolf grow to manhood. As much as Roderick deserved to die, he would not allow him to take those things away from him.

Instead, he unsheathed his dagger and held it before Roderick's terror filled eyes, then he slowly carved a shallow mark from the bottom edge of his right eye downward to his chin. He stood back then and watched in satisfaction as a thin trickle of blood began to flow from the wound.

“And now we are even, Roderick. That which you give, you should receive, although my cut was much more merciful than yours. Remember this day, for when next we meet, you will not have such an easy time of it.”

Mounting Alerio, he rode with quiet dignity off the battlefield, his knights falling in behind him.

CHAPTER 27

Regan paced her room and fretted for hours after the tournament. No one would tell her where Calder was or how he fared. She had seen the blade sink into his side and was sick with worry for him.

She ran quickly to the door when someone knocked and opened it to find Bernia standing in the hallway.

“Come with me, Regan. Gideon has been tending Lord Calder and he asked for you.”

They hurried through the well-lit corridors, stopping only when they found Draco standing guard outside one of the doors.

“Milady,” he said solemnly.

“Oh, Draco, I'm so happy that you are all right. What of the other men?”

“Some have been badly injured, but Gideon is tending them. None have died.”

“I'm so glad,” she said, raising herself on her toes and kissing his cheek, sure that she saw a blush appear on his face as she did so.

He opened the door and she rushed over to the bed where Calder lay, pale and asleep. She ran her fingers over his strong jaw line and watched as his chest shallowly rose and fell.

“Gideon?” There was no need to ask anything further. The questions in her eyes were enough for him to know what was going through her mind.