He held it out to me and I took it. I noticed a long, black hair tangled on the thong used to tie the mask in place and my mouth went dry. This was Marana's mask!
Slade didn't notice the change in my expression, and thankfully stepped between me and both Captain Herman and Count Patrick. The Lieutenant tugged on one of the shoulder plates until it dropped to the same height as the other one. "There, it's perfect." He smiled at me. "I wish you luck."
He gave me the time I needed to recover. "Thank you, Talion, I appreciate the loan of the equipment." I thumped a gauntleted fist against the breastplate. "I would hate to ruin your armor, so have you any words of advice for me?"
Slade nodded emphatically. "I suggest you avoid the Earl of Cadmar if possible. He is a superior fighter, as you might expect the King's Champion to be, but..." He hesitated.
I leaned my head forward and prompted him, "But?"
"The Earl is getting old and tires after a while. When he is tired he is not as quick with his shield as he should be." Then Slade's eyes narrowed. "But that only holds for the Grand Melee. If you have to joust him, forget all that and prepare to be unhorsed."
"Is there nothing I can do to best him in a joust?"
The Lancer smiled. "Perhaps, but I wouldn't want to drive spikes through my legs into the saddle just to become the Princess's Champion."
* * *
The selection process for the Princess's Champion was simple and involved only two stages of combat. All those battling to become her Champion would meet in a Grand Melee. The combatants would be divided into two "armies" and would line up in the west or east ends of the field, alternating sides as they were introduced to the spectators. Once everyone was in place, King Tirrell would signal us and both sides would charge toward the other and meet in the center of the field.
The Grand Melee would continue until only two fighters remained on their horses. Those two men then would be set to joust each other, then the victor of that match could be challenged by any of the nobles who had fallen previously, and would have to defeat the challenger in a joust to remain Champion. The first two jousters both put up a personal prize, chosen by their foe, for the victor. Then, to prevent spurious challenges, the champion could demand, and would be allowed to keep, a "ransom" if he defeated the challenger.
Outside the Talion tent I met Adric. He led Wolf, already saddled and encased in armor lent by Count Patrick. I took my swordbelt from the saddle and strapped it around my waist. With Adric's help I mounted and he handed me the shield Captain Herman had given the Princess the previous evening.
The round shield was large enough to cover me from waist to chin. I was quite accustomed to using a shield of this design and slipped my arm through the strap running from top to bottom. I gripped the handle just inside the forward edge and worked the shield up and back. The skull mask hid my satisfied grin.
I waited in line until a page nodded at me, then I urged Wolf forward. Because the mask was tied in place I could not remove it as I stopped before the royal box, but everyone there knew who I was. The tournament consul announced my name and I bowed my head to King and court. They all returned my gesture and I reined Wolf off to take my place in the eastern line.
The wait for the rest of the introductions was short, but it gave me time to mark the absolute paradox of the tournament. The gaily dressed spectators in the stands sat there enjoying a boxed lunch of fruit, cheese, and wine. They looked peaceful and content, as if somehow unmindful of the chaos about to explode before them.
The combatants, on the other hand, exuded nervous energy. Horses stamped and started, while warriors whispered to each other and pointed out members of the other group to avoid. I studied the opposite line and only saw two men who inspired caution in me: Keane and Duke Vidor. I drew my tsincaat and set myself because, despite the calm in the stands, this would be anything but a summer holiday.
King Tirrell rose after the last introduction. "My lord, ladies, and esteemed guests. Here, arrayed in all their armored splendor, are the boldest and bravest men on the continent. I commend them to you." Mild, polite, applause erupted from the stands, then died quickly enough. "To you, the men who battle to become the Princess's Champion, I wish the best of fortune. Fight well, brave men, so only the most courageous of you wins the day."
The King turned and took a lace kerchief from his daughter. He raised it high above his head and it fluttered in the gentle breeze cooling the field. He opened his hand and the kerchief gently floated earthward to unleash the expectant warriors.
Men and horses surged forward in a glittering wave of martial ardor. Wolf wanted to burst in among them and outstrip the other horses, but I held him back. I knew the forces unbound when both lines of fighters collided would blast fully a quarter of the men to the ground, and would leave the rest shocked, confused, and disoriented.
I charged Wolf into this secondary pandemonium to smash left and right with both tsincaat and shield. I hit the first men I reached and battered them aside while Wolf forced his way between them, then broke through the other line by spilling a small knight to the ground. I jerked the reins firmly shieldside and Wolf responded with a tight turn and lunge that carried us back into the milling disorder. Again we won through and unseated a trio of fighters.
On the other side of the line I took Wolf further out of the fight before we turned again. Huge dust clouds choked the center of the field and made visibility very poor. I cursed softly because I'd not thought to wear a bandana over my nose and mouth. The dust could easily make me sneeze, and the moment that took could be my last in the saddle.
I looked over to my right and saw Duke Vidor waiting for the dust to clear before he charged back into the battle. I raised my tsincaat in a salute to him, and he did the same to me. At the same time we shrugged as if we'd each read the other's mind, and closed with each other.
We passed shieldside the first time. I slashed at his head and he blocked the blow with his shield while I stopped his low thrust with my shield. We swept past each other, turned—though his turn was not as tight as mine—and raced at each other again.
I ducked his head-high cut and leaned into him behind my shield. I felt the jarring impact and felt him give way, but the shield punch did not unhorse him. With gentle pressure from my knees I spun Wolf around and prepared for another attack, but the Duke, still unbalanced, had trouble turning his mount. Then he tightened his shield hand's grip on his reins and we charged at each other for the last time.
I feinted high, then slashed lower when his shield rose to defend his head. Because his shield blinded him he didn't see me shift my attack, and only became aware of the cut that sliced through his reins when a two-foot length of each hung limp in his left hand. Wolf whirled again and I knocked the Duke from his saddle with another shield punch before he could turn his mount and adequately oppose me.
Wolf and I swept forward, and into disaster: three knights assaulted us. Two hit us, one from each side, simultaneously. I blocked the sword blow of the one on my left with my shield, but could not parry the attack of the other knight. He wielded a flail and the smooth ball on the end of it smashed down on my right bicep.
Pain burst through my arm, and for the barest of moments, numbed it entirely. The third knight passed on my right and slashed at my head. I leaned away from the blow, avoided the cut, but did not escape untouched. His sword twisted my tsincaat free and sent it spinning back over my right shoulder.
I let Wolf race forward before I turned. Someone in the crowd shouted that I was disarmed, but I barely heard him over the thundering sound of hoofbeats as the trio attacked. They came in line this time and expected to unseat me easily.
I drove Wolf straight at the knight with the flail. Wolf responded to my knee pressure and moved so that knight would pass on my right. He rose up in the saddle, whirled his flail above his head, and smashed the ball downward. Wolf, as directed, rammed his horse with a shoulder. The knight leaned toward me to regain his balance and complete t
he attack, but he failed at both tasks. I smashed a mailed fist into his gorget, then caught at his breastplate and hauled him from the saddle just in time for him to shield my right side from the next knight's attack.
I trapped his right arm against my body, between my shield and breastplate. I dragged him along just far enough for my right hand to pull his flail free; then I dropped him. Even though I'd recovered a weapon, and could once again fight, I knew I'd taken too long and that the third knight's attack would batter me from Wolf's back.
That attack never came. Wolf carried me clear of the fallen knight and I turned. I spotted the third knight lying in a tangled and dented heap. Keane, the Earl of Cadmar, saluted me from horseback above the fallen warrior. I returned the salute and rejoined the fray.
The flail served me well, and, in fact, better than my tsincaat. With the blade there was always the chance, in the heat of the moment, I'd twist or cut and find a chink in the armor by instinct. The nobles fighting that day were not as bad as Count Patrick or Captain Herman thought, but I could have slain most of those I fought relatively easily.
The flail had a longer reach than my tsincaat and the chain linking ball to haft allowed the ball to bend around shields to hit the knight hiding behind the shield. The ball hit with a harder impact than the tsincaat, and I knew better than to carelessly bash away at a head because the weapon was more than capable of denting a helmet and crushing the skull beneath it. Instead I used it to crunch bracers, dent breastplates, or tear weapons and shields from weakened fighters.
Soon masterless horses and crumpled fighters filled the battlefield. Wolf deftly stepped around groaning piles of metal and bones to carry me to the outer fringes of the battlefield where the bodies were not packed so densely. Squires and loyal retainers dodged horses and helped their masters from the field while grooms chased after horses and led them back to the appropriate pavilion.
Although it generated enough stories for that night and the next day to suggest it had lasted a month or more, the Grand Melee ended somewhat quickly. Little by slowly the dust settled and unvictorious aspirants limped and clanked from the battlefield. The only two men still in their saddles turned out to be Keane and me.
The two of us rode up to the royal box. Keane lifted the visor on his helmet and I removed my mask. We looked over at each other and smiled. "I thank you, Lord Earl, for rescuing me when I lost my blade."
King Tirrell stood and cut off any reply from Keane. "You have done well, my lords. Which of you shall be my daughter's Champion?" Already, behind us, servants pounded posts into the ground and strung a rope linking the tops of each from one end of the line to the other. In no time at all they had a barrier sufficient to serve as the center strip for jousting.
The Earl smiled. His broad blond moustache drooped with sweat. "I have an odd request to make of you, sire."
King Tirrell's brows knitted together. "Yes, Keane, Earl of Cadmar, what is it?"
"Because I am your Champion, my King, I would surrender my claim to the same office for your daughter to Lord Nolan." I started and looked over at him, but he just smiled at me. "In addition I will not suffer the indignity of falling beneath his lance."
I shook my head slowly in disbelief. "I think my Lord Earl grossly overestimates my skill."
He smiled. "But I do not underestimate your youth."
The King nodded. "If this is what you wish, I will permit it although I had wished for jousting this afternoon."
The Earl laughed heartily. "I believe you can be granted your wish, my liege, if you will permit me to make the announcement."
The King nodded and Earl Cadmar turned his horse to face the knights who had once again assembled themselves into a ragged line of challengers. "I concede to Lord Nolan. He is the Princess's Champion. And any who wish to challenge him with a lance must defeat me first."
* * *
I remained and watched some of the joust, but left when Halsted arrived to assure me that no one would defeat the Earl and suggested I should prepare for the first ceremony that evening. He hinted I would want to rest through the afternoon and into the evening, which I did. Later, after I'd bathed and dressed, I received a visitor.
I warmly welcomed the Earl of Cadmar to my rooms and invited him to sit in front of the fire. He dropped somewhat heavily into one of the chairs and gratefully accepted the offered goblet of wine. Firelight danced along the broad silver circlet encircling his brow. The sapphire set in the coronet matched the blue of his eyes.
I sat. "Why did you concede to me today? I watched you until Halsted came for me." I shook my head ruefully. "Even with spikes driven through my legs to keep me in the saddle, I would have fallen to you, sir."
Keane smiled with my description of the Lancer's final advice. "Thank you, Lord Nolan. I had three reasons for my action today. They vary in import, but all contributed to my decision." He sipped more wine before he continued. "The first reason, the bulk of my decision, is that you are good. The rumors making you a Darkesh bandit do not do you justice. I have fought against those bandits and while they fight like the devil, they are not as good as you. If you were once a bandit, that is not all you were. I salute your weaponmaster, and I believe you would have defeated me"—he smiled coyly over the lip of his goblet—"eventually."
I laughed. "We disagree about our respective abilities and skills. What was your second reason?"
The Earl set his cup down and wiped red wine from his moustache. "In the initial fight we could demand of each other a prize. I would have asked you for the ring the Queen gave you. As a Sinjarian you could have demanded only one thing from me as my prize for you."
I smiled and half nodded. "The Star of Sinjaria."
"Exactly!" Some of his jocularity drained away. "You know of the various plots to win Sinjaria's freedom, I assume?"
I shook my head. "I am too new a noble, and perhaps seen as too close to the Hamisian royal house, to be considered trustworthy by my countrymen."
He nodded. His lips sank into a thin, grim slash across his face. "Many of them, backed by Rimahasti money, seek to promote Vidor as the new King of Sinjaria and offer promises of fealty to King Tirrell in return for independence."
I grimaced. "Then, by conceding to me, did you not play into their hands by allowing victory for a Sinjarian?"
Keane smiled broadly and his face lit up with pride. "Not at all. You are the Sinjarian who saved the King's life. I am the King's Champion and I unhorsed thirty challengers this afternoon. That event will live in stories and songs for a long time, and every time a traitorous plotter hears it he will be reminded that Hamis is as strong as ever." He drained his cup and set it down gently, but I noticed the white tension beneath his fingernails.
He rose and bowed to me. "You are an honorable man, Lord Nolan. I am glad you are the Princess's Champion." He strode to the door, but I stopped him before he could escape.
"My lord, you said you had three reasons to concede. What was the third reason?"
He chuckled and smoothed his moustache with his right hand. "The most important reason of all: my daughter, one of the Princess's handmaidens, and my wife threatened me with horrid tortures if I kept you from serving Her Highness as Champion."
I smiled and sighed as he vanished through the doorway. Apparently the Queen and Grand Duchess were not alone in their ability to manipulate the court.
* * *
The first part of the coronation ceremony was scheduled for midnight, so I sent Adric into the town and had him bring Morai to me. He found the thief in a tavern where Selia was performing and brought him back swiftly. I dismissed the youth and asked Morai to bolt the door behind him.
"Congratulations to the new Champion," Morai said as he poured himself some wine. "It was a very close thing, wasn't it?"
That remark raised an eyebrow. "Were you there?"
Morai nodded and a lock of black hair fell across his forehead. "I escorted the Lady Selia. I thought you were in trouble toward the end, when you lo
st your, ah, ziinkac, is it?"
"Tsincaat," I corrected him. "I thought that was the end as well. Have you learned anything?"
Morai nodded and set his goblet back down. "If Seir were an open market, and plots to control the throne were for sale, they'd go cheap because there are so many of them." Morai fished a gold coin from his purse and flipped it to me. "Rimahasti gold funneled through Sinjarian hands is buying up half the mercenaries and cutthroats in town." He shook his head and barely stifled a laugh. "The rest of the mercenaries are being bought up by lots of little lordlings to form their own private armies in case someone is plotting against them."
I nodded and toyed with the coin in my hand. It was from Rimah, with King Egan's profile on one side and the image of a warship on the other. "What are the local lords doing about troops?"
"Lots of loyal Hamisians have flooded the city for the ceremony. I've noticed several taverns have been taken over by contingents from the various parts of Hamis, excluding conquered Sinjarian provinces, and they're run very much like military camps."
I stood and walked toward the fireplace. "Is there a sense of expectation in air?" I groped blindly for words to frame my question accurately. "Does it seem to you something is going to happen soon?"
Moral's eyes narrowed, then he nodded cautiously. "I think I know what you mean. Most of the mercenaries have been paid to stay through the ceremonies and masquerade tomorrow night on into the middle of the week . They've been promised more money and service after that, but I would assume anything that will happen will take place at the masquerade." Then the thief shrugged. "But this place will be sewn up so tight tomorrow night no one will be able to get in or out, despite the fact everyone will be in costume. If I hear anything I'll send word, but I won't be visiting."
"True, security will be as tight as possible, but I don't know if that will be tight enough." I grimaced. "I need an edge and you're it, Morai. Watch me, and remember the word drijen. If I get killed someone else will come, a Fealareen Talion. You'll have to tell him everything you've told me so far, including what I'm about to show you, and anything else you learn. Drijen is a signal I've worked out with the other Talion. It will identify you to him as someone he can trust."
Talion Revenant Page 40
