Ironhand

by Hilary Green

  'You are a bit tall for this game,' he remarked, 'but you look strong enough. Let's see how you do.'

  He was shown various techniques for striking the ball, and warned of a number of underhand moves that might be used against him. He spent the rest of the afternoon cantering Storm up and down, trying and usually failing to get a clean strike. It was frustrating, but at the same time he enjoyed the challenge; and he was relieved to find that he had made the right choice of mount. Storm was quickly learning to respond to the pressure of his knees rather than the reins, and he could turn on the spot without losing momentum.

  Ranulph returned to the castle drenched with sweat and desperate for a drink. He was met at the door of his room by Aurelia.

  'My lady has been looking for you for your Greek lesson. I am to send you straight up to her.'

  Ranulph shook his head wearily. 'Please give your mistress my apologies and tell that I am too tired for a lesson now. I have been on horseback all afternoon. I need to wash and rest.'

  Aurelia looked scared. 'She will not be pleased.'

  'I'm sure she will understand. I have been given a task by the strategos and I must obey.'

  'Come, just for a few minutes! Come and explain it to her yourself.'

  Ranulph felt sorry for the girl, guessing that she would bear the brunt of Viviana's anger, but he made up his mind that this time, at least, he was not going to dance attendance on this autocratic woman. 'No, I'm sorry. Tell the Lady Viviana that I am in no fit state to be received in her chamber. I will explain to her later.'

  As it happened, when he heard Aurelia tap at his door after the household had gone to bed, he was almost asleep and too tired to get up.

  Next morning, Viviana pointedly ignored him and was deliberately charming to Jacopo. Ranulph's first reaction was one of relief. He had not realised until that moment how helpless he had felt in face of her demands. But then he saw Jacopo smirking and casting mocking looks in his direction. He determined that he would not give him the satisfaction of thinking he had triumphed in the field of sexual conquest before they met on the tzykanion field.

  Accordingly, at the first opportunity, he drew Viviana aside and begged her to excuse his failure to attend on her. He explained the method by which the strategos had chosen to decide which ship should leave first, and how he was the only one of the crew who had the skills to compete. Then he had a stroke of genius.

  'Lady, I have agreed not solely to help my shipmates. It occurred to me that if I triumph it will be in your honour. Everyone knows what favour you have shown me. I shall fight to prove that I am worthy of it.'

  'Fight?' she queried.

  'I use the word deliberately. You must know better than I do that this can be a dangerous sport. In war, a man may risk his life, knowing his cause is just. If I risk myself in this game, it will be in the just cause of the honour of a great lady.'

  It worked. She put out her hand and stroked his cheek. 'Then it would be churlish of me to reject your sacrifice. But I cannot lose you entirely to the field. What of your lessons – both lessons?'

  'I could stay with you now, for my Greek lesson. But later I must go and work with my horse. My safety depends on him.'

  Over the next days he attended Viviana every morning and she was more considerate than he had expected, releasing him after an hour. At night, she was as passionate and inventive as ever, but to his surprise she made no objection when, after they had slaked their initial lust, he left, insisting that he needed to sleep to recoup his strength. Even in front of others, she was kinder to him, provoking ever more murderous looks from Jacopo.

  Two nights before the match, when he was drifting in a pleasant post-coital daze, she leaned up on one elbow and looked down at him.

  'My sweet, I have been good to you, no? I think you would do much for me in return. Am I right?'

  A distant drum beat of alarm disturbed his ease. 'If there was something I could do that was within my power, and consistent with my honour, of course I should be glad to be of service to you.'

  'Honour?' She blew out her lips dismissively. 'What is this honour you men talk so much about? We do what pleases us, or what we must. Where does this figment honour come into it? Have you not much to thank me for? Is it not honourable to pay your debt?'

  'What would you have me do?'

  'You know that I came here with the Venetians because I am on my way home to Cyprus. The storm, and then the delay over the fight, have cost me many days and I am anxious to be on my way as soon as possible. My husband expects me and there are matters I need to attend to.'

  Ranulph stirred uneasily. He was well aware that for Viviana her marriage vows were more a convenience than a religious commitment, but to hear her speak of her husband while they were both still hot from betraying him made him uncomfortable. Viviana, however, seemed to have no such scruples.

  'If your team, the Blues, win tomorrow, your ship will be free to leave while the Venetian ship will have to wait even longer. I cannot accept a further delay.'

  He felt a pang of distress, that she was so eager to leave and bring their relationship to an end. His reply had an edge of injured pride. 'Well, there is no certainty that we will win. Maybe the Greens will win, and then you can be on your way.'

  'But, my dear, that is my point. I want the Greens to win – and I want you to make sure that they do.'

  He sat up. 'You want me to betray my team mates, and my shipmates, so you can get home a few days earlier?'

  She ran her hand caressingly up his arm. 'Is it so much to ask? What does it matter to you which team wins? Your ship will be delayed a little longer, but you will still make Antioch before the Venetians. What difference does a day or two matter, compared with what I have given you?'

  He looked down at her. He could see some force in her argument. The gifts she had shared with him were beyond price; gifts not only of physical pleasure such as he had never imagined possible, but more lasting than that, the gift of knowledge which would stand him in good stead for the rest of his life. But at the same time, he was shocked that she could ask such a thing of him.

  'Anyway,' he said, 'it is impossible. What could I do to change the outcome? Even if I failed to do my utmost during the match, the Blues are perfectly capable of winning without my help.'

  She smiled softly. 'Of course, I understand that. So we need a much more certain plan.'

  'Such as …?'

  'I have some expertise in the use of herbs. I know of a compound which is sometimes given to horses to make them more docile.'

  'You want me to drug the Blues' horses? How could I do that?'

  'Very easily. I will mix the compound with something no horse can resist. You may know it as sweet salt. In Greek we call it sakcharon. It comes mainly from the Levant but we have started to grow a little in Cyprus. It is a sovereign remedy for all sorts of stomach ills. I will give you some. All you need to do is wait until tomorrow night, then go to the paddock where all your team's horses will be held. Say, if anyone asks, that you want to make a final check on the fitness of your own horse. Offer him some of the sweet salt. He will take it very readily and as soon as the others see that he is being given food they will all crowd in to ask for their share.'

  'Will it harm them?'

  'No. It will simply make them a little drowsy, less willing to exert themselves. It will last no more than a night and a day, then they will return to normal.' She reached up and drew his head down towards her own and her tongue flickered over his lips. 'You will do this for me. I know you cannot refuse me.'

  It was her first misjudgement. Suddenly he knew that he was being deliberately seduced, manipulated for her own ends. He pulled away and got up.

  'I cannot do it. I said I would do anything that was consistent with honour. This is not.'

  She sat up and her eyes, a moment ago so tender, were glittering with inner fire. 'You honour! What business have you to talk of honour? You, a low born serf from a barbaric country, ignorant as a c
hild until I took pity on you. How dare you speak to me of honour?'

  He had pulled his tunic on by now. He stood looking down on her and knew that he was free of an enchantment. 'My birth may not be as good as yours but I am not base born. My father was lord of wide lands and died defending them. And my country has been a seat of learning for centuries. I myself was educated in the teachings of the church fathers and, through the kindness of another benefactor, had learned something of the wisdom of the ancients. I admit that in certain matters I was ignorant, and I am grateful for what you have taught me. But I see now that you have led me into the paths of deceit. We have, together, betrayed your husband and now you would have me betray my friends. I will not do it.'

  He turned and left before she could respond.

  Next day, as he expected, he was ignored while Viviana lavished her attentions on Jacopo. It no longer mattered. As soon as the team met for a final practice he drew Nikko to one side.

  'Do not ask me how I know this, but please believe me when I tell you that there may be an attempt to drug our horses tonight. We must set a guard on them.'

  Nikko did not argue. 'Those Greens are capable of anything. I'll talk to the others.'

  Within minutes a rota was established so that the horses would be guarded all through the night. Ranulph asked for, and was granted, the first watch. The horses were corralled in two paddocks, the Blues' in one, the Greens' in another, separated by a fence. As darkness fell Ranulph slipped quietly into the shadow of the barn where the feed was kept. He was wearing his sword and had a sheathed dagger in the top of his boot.

  He did not have to wait long. As soon as it was completely dark he saw Jacopo heading for the paddock. To his surprise he climbed the fence into the area where the Greens' horses were held. He had a pouch slung on his belt and Ranulph saw him dip his hand into it and offer the contents to the nearest animal. The horse stretched its neck, nostrils wide, then nuzzled its lips into the outstretched palm. Ranulph shook his head in disbelief. Surely he was not drugging his own team's mounts? For what possible ends? Or could he have mistaken which paddock held which horses? Phoenix was stabled elsewhere, where he could not cause havoc, so perhaps he did not recognise the rest of his team's mounts. Soon all the horses were gathering round Jacopo, pushing and whickering to get their share. The Blues' horses, attracted by the noise, crowded to the fence and began to demand attention. Jacopo looked round.

  'Oh, you want some too, do you? All right, wait a moment.'

  He vaulted the fence and then Ranulph understood. There was a second pouch hanging on Jacopo's other side, and it was into this one that he now dipped his hand and extended it to the nearest horse.

  Ranulph stepped forward from the shadows. 'I don't think so, Jacopo. Drop your hand!'

  His own hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword and Jacopo was unarmed. In spite of that, he recovered quickly from his surprise and laughed.

  'What's the matter? Jealous? Why shouldn't your nags have a treat? It might put a bit of life in them.'

  'You and I know that it would do the opposite. Do you really think she turned to you first, with her nasty little scheme? She's only flattering you because I wouldn't do her bidding. What has she offered you? Her favours during the voyage, if your ship leaves first?'

  'I don't know what you are talking about.'

  'No? I tell you what. We'll do a test. You eat a mouthful of whatever you've got in the left hand pouch and I'll have a mouthful of what is in the right. If they are both harmless, you have nothing to lose.'

  'Don't be ridiculous! I'm not a horse. Do you expect me to eat their food?'

  'I am told that sweet salt is very good for the digestion. That is what you've got in there, isn't it?'

  'So what? I'm not playing your games.'

  'No? Then I suggest you go back to the castle and explain to the lady that you have failed in your task. I doubt if she will welcome you to her bed then!'

  'And if I refuse?'

  'I am armed and you are not. I will conduct you to the presence of the strategos and tell him my suspicions. I have no doubt he can devise an experiment to decide whether what you have in that pouch is harmless or not. It seems to me that you are more likely to spend tomorrow in a dungeon than on the tzykanion field. Choose! Which shall it be?'

  Jacopo glowered at him for a moment, then without answering he turned away and headed back towards the castle. Ranulph waited out the rest of his watch and explained to Nikko, who followed him, what had happened.

  'I don't think he'll try again, but we need to keep guard, just in case.'

  The next morning most of the population of Modon swarmed out of the city and jostled for places around the field where the match was to take place. Many sported the colours of their favoured team and the two factions took up opposing positions on each side of the ground. The crews of the Santa Christina and the Venetian ship formed two more blocks, the Venetians next to the Greens and Ranulph's comrades next to the Blues. A stand had been erected for the strategos and his guests, together with members of high-ranking families in the city, and Ranulph had been told that before the match the two teams would parade in front of it. The Greens, who had won the previous match, had the privilege of going first, and as they waited for Laskaris to take his place Ranulph watched them forming up. Jacopo, he noted, had placed himself at the head, next to the captain, and seemed as cocky as ever. Whatever had passed between him and Viviana the night before, it appeared not to have dented his self-confidence. He wondered if, perhaps, he had lied to her about his failure to carry out her instructions, and was hoping that his team would win anyway. His stallion, Ranulph noted, was already sweating and fidgeting.

  The trumpets sounded, the strategos and his party took their places and the procession began. As the Greens rode forward Phoenix was prancing and throwing up his head in an effort to escape the constraint of reins that were too tightly held. Jacopo sat him proudly, and as they came parallel to the stand Ranulph saw him deliberately jab his spurs into the stallion's sides, making him rear. Jacopo checked him with a vicious tug on the reins and then swept off his cap in salute to the audience, who responded with a round of applause. Ranulph looked at Viviana. She was in the place of honour, at Laskaris's left hand, and dressed from head to foot in gold silk. Her expression was untroubled and she was exerting her habitual charm on those around her; but he noticed that she did not applaud. When his team moved forward Ranulph took a modest position at the rear. He made a point of saluting Viviana, and to his surprise she inclined her head in response.

  As the teams took their positions at either end of the field a page threaded his way between the horses to Ranulph's side.

  'The strategos requires you to attend on him.'

  'Now?' Ranulph looked down at the boy in consternation. 'The match is about to begin.'

  'He said at once.'

  Ranulph swung down from the saddle, puzzled and annoyed. 'Hold my horse. I'll be back directly.'

  He pushed his way through the crowd until he came to the stand where Laskaris was sitting. His bow was more perfunctory than good manners required.

  'You sent for me, my lord?'

  Laskaris turned from a conversation with one of his companions. 'Sent for you? No.'

  Viviana's voice cut off Ranulph's protestations, seductive as honey. 'Forgive me. The boy I sent must have misunderstood. It is I who wish to speak with you.'

  'You, madam?'

  'Yes. I have heard that it is the custom in your world for a knight to carry his lady's favour in a tournament. I thought perhaps you would carry this for me.'

  She held out a silken kerchief, fringed with gold beads. Ranulph looked from it to her face. She was plotting something, but what? Vague notions that the kerchief might be impregnated with some drug or poison floated through his mind. He drew himself up to his full height and met her eyes.

  'Forgive me, lady. I am no knight. I fear for a humble commoner like me to accept such a favour would be too much ho
nour.'

  He inclined his head in the briefest obeisance and turned away. Behind him he heard a murmur of amazement but he did not look back to see the expression on Viviana's face.

  When he got back to where his team was waiting the page was fiddling with Storm's bridle.

  'What are you doing?'

  'He was fretting. I thought perhaps the straps holding the bit were too tight.'

  'Rubbish! You've no business to interfere. Out of the way!'

  The others were already moving into position and Ranulph had just time to mount before the trumpet sounded and a marshal threw the ball into the space between the two teams. It was the signal for a mêlèe as violent as any Ranulph had seen at a jousting tournament, horses charging each other, the long-handled clubs whirling with little consideration as to whether they made contact with the ball or with human or animal flesh. The action moved from one end of the field to the other so fast that it was hard to see who had the upper hand. Ranulph kept to the side, watching for a moment when the ball might be knocked clear of the scrum; but he could see Jacopo in the centre, his unruly mount getting in the way of his team mates, club swinging in a desperate attempt to make contact with the ball. Unfortunately for him, every time the stallion caught sight of it from the corner of his eye he spooked, shying away so that Jacopo's stroke missed. The first time it happened there a few guffaws from the section of the crowd wearing blue. The second time there was an ironic cheer. When it happened a third time the laughter was uninhibited, and it did not come only from the blues' supporters. Ranulph could see Jacopo getting increasingly furious and gave himself a silent warning. A man that angry could be dangerous.

  From the moment the match started he had been aware that there was something wrong with Storm. Usually so steady and biddable, he kept throwing his head up in an attempt to avoid the pressure of the bit, and then shaking it violently. Once or twice Ranulph thought he was going to rear. He rubbed the sweating neck and spoke to him softly, keeping the reins loose, but the horse became more and more agitated.