by Regan Walker
She nodded
“Since the banns have already been posted for your wedding to Sir Gavin on Christmas Day, we have a problem to resolve.”
Noelle nodded again.
“The suggestion has been made for the two men to joust for your hand. The winner will be allowed to marry you. I trust you see the wisdom in having this settled thusly?”
“As you wish, sire,” Noelle said.
“Good. Then let us prepare for the ’morrow. I expect this to be the best tournament we have had in a long time.”
After everyone had left, the king sat for a long time staring at the door. Some men went to war for excitement. Evidently, he didn’t have to do anything; excitement seemed to find him at home. Over the next few days there would be plenty of it at Camelot.
He leaned back and breathed a long, deep sigh. He hoped that everything would end as it was supposed to.
Chapter 17
When the first beams of light entered her chamber, Noelle welcomed the morn. Her eyes were scratchy and swollen from little sleep and her body ached from head to toe with her tossing and turning. Her mind just wouldn’t quit thinking what if Nicholas lost the tournament?
She scurried out of bed and hurried to the washstand, where she placed the porcelain bowl on top. Then she went to get the pitcher of water that she’d placed near the fire the night before. She had begun to wash her face when Carolyn and Isabelle swept into her chamber, already dressed and ready for the big day.
“Good morn,” Carolyn said.
“Are you excited about the joust? Everyone will be dressed in the finest silks and colors, and the horses will have on their best trappings. Should be very colorful indeed,” Isabelle added.
Noelle drew in a long, deep breath. How did she feel? “Truth to tell, I think I am numb,” she finally said. “I did not tell you last night, but King Arthur has decided that the winner of the joust will have my hand in marriage.”
Isabelle and Carolyn squealed in unison.
“How romantic,” Isabelle gushed.
Carolyn rubbed her hands together with glee. “And exciting.”
Noelle dried her face with a soft sheet, then turned toward them. “It is only romantic and exciting if the right knight wins,” she reminded them. “What if Sir Gavin wins?”
“I have heard that Sir Nicholas is unbeatable,” Isabelle said as she searched through Noelle’s trunk for a gown. Then she turned and looked at Noelle. “What happened while you were at Cranborne?”
“I was captured by Meleagant and dragged from the castle! I thought he would kill me,” Noelle said with a shudder of revulsion. “And he probably would have if it had not been for Boots. Meleagant was ready to ravish me as well when Boots attacked.”
“How dreadful,” Carolyn exclaimed with her hands over her mouth. “What happened next?”
“And who is Boots?” Isabelle asked.
“You remember Nicholas’s falcon. The one I climbed the tree to save.”
They both nodded.
Then Noelle told them the whole story, and they listened eagerly, their eyes growing large at some of the things she told them about how gentle Nicholas had been when he had tended to her wound. After she finished the story, she added. “I realized that I love Nicholas.” She smiled still excited every time she thought about him holding her in his arms. He hadn’t declared his undying love, but she was certain that he cared for her. Whether he wanted to or not. And that small fact pleased her a great deal.
She wanted to tell them about making love with Nicholas, but that was too private to tell anyone. She just hoped one day they would both feel the way she felt.
“We knew you loved him before you left,” Isabelle reminded her.
A small smile drifted across Noelle’s face. “But you didn’t know that he feels the same.”
“Was it wonderful kissing him?” Isabelle asked.
“It was so much more, more than I ever imagined. Just the thought of kissing him makes me tingle.” Noelle blushed.
Carolyn hugged her mistress. “It’s marvelous. You know that Sir Nicholas is the best knight. Maybe you worry over nothing. Was Sir Gavin angry?”
“I could not hear his response. But he didn’t look too happy when I entered the hall,” Noelle said. “He cannot admit that he’s been disgraced. I was promised to Gavin first, and he does not want to let go of his claim. I feel like a blanket being pulled between two knights.”
Isabelle grinned. “Sounds heavenly.”
Noelle frowned.
Isabelle ignored her as she pulled out a soft cream cashmere gown. “How about this for a wedding dress? It is quite lovely and the finest piece that you own.”
Noelle looked at the beautiful cotehardie. “Nay, I will wear that gown today. Pull out the red velvet. That is what I will be wed in.”
Carolyn looked a little surprised. “Well, it will be different, I must admit, but will look lovely on you,” she said as she took the red gown from Isabelle and shook it out before placing it on the bed. She smoothed out the wrinkles with her hands. “It is lovely.”
Isabelle held up the cream-colored, cashmere cotehardie and Noelle stepped into the garment. The material felt warm and soft as it slipped over her body. “Since these sleeves are tight-fitting, I think I will wear my purple surcoat.”
Carolyn brought the coat and Noelle slipped it on. The fit was perfect, fitting her hips snugly, and it would also provide more warmth.
She stepped over to the window to look out onto the bailey. It was getting to be a familiar sight. The merchants wouldn’t open their shops today, as all would attend the joust. “It’s cloudy. Let us dress warmly for this day.”
Queen Guinevere met the three women in the Great Hall. “It is time to go to the tournament.” The ladies-in-waiting went ahead but Guinevere hung back with Noelle.
Guinevere placed her hand on Noelle’s arm. “Are you all right? Arthur told me of the meeting last night. I can well imagine how you must feel this morning.”
“I truly do not know. Frightened would probably be the best answer,” Noelle admitted. “Though you warned me against it, I fell in love with Nicholas.
“But I wish no shame upon Sir Gavin. He does not deserve such treatment. If John hadn’t promised me against my will, none of this would have happened,” she murmured.
“Aye, but then you might not have met Sir Nicholas. Fate has a queer way of steering us along the proper path.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way. I just pray that Nicholas is the victor.”
Guinevere gave Noelle a sympathetic smile. “I think I would feel the same. Let us hope that this day will bring you all that you wish for.”
“I guess we should go to the field,” Noelle said with a sigh, wrapping her full-length cloak around her. “I think I would walk today rather than ride, if you don’t mind.”
“Nay, I mind naught,” Guinevere said as they left the Great Hall. “I will walk with you.”
Their ladies-in-waiting were watching for them outside.
As they started across the bailey, their ladies fell into step behind them. Many of the castle serfs walked ahead of them, jostling boisterously, laughing and chatting.
“I see everyone is in a festive mood today,” Noelle said. “I wish I felt the same. It is the uncertainty that scares me.”
Guinevere nodded. “Cold weather is good for curing one’s soul, and today feels much like Christmas.”
The day was cloudy, the wind cold as they walked across the bailey to the gatehouse. They nodded to the guards as they passed through the gatehouse, leaving the castle walls.
Isabelle and Carolyn chatted behind them with Guinevere’s ladies.
“Have you noticed how gray the day looks?” Carolyn asked.
“Aye, it reminds me of the day we went searching for mistletoe,” Isabelle replied as she and Carolyn trudged on. “We will have to keep an eye out for our lady. It seems she tends to get lost when looking for mistletoe.”
“T
hat is quite enough, Isabelle. I have been teased aplenty for my misadventure,” Noelle snapped. Then she added in a softer tone when she realized she was taking out her mood on Isabelle, “Maybe it will snow again.” Noelle had always imagined her wedding with snow on the ground. Of course, having the correct husband would be necessary to make the day perfect.
They approached the meadow where all the brightly colored tents and pavilions had been pitched. She could tell that there were more tents than in the days previous.
Squires and pages bustled to and fro, dashing everywhere as they prepared for the day’s events. Several countries would be represented.
Flags and pennons fluttered in the wind. The colors were many: bright green silks, golds, reds, and blues. And the coats-of-arms were displayed on all the pennons. Noelle and her party strolled past a green silk pennon bearing the symbol of the Czech lion. But none of the banners were as bold as the flag belonging to Nicholas. Always . . . even in her dreams . . . she could see the fire-breathing dragon.
The ladies passed by several tents where young men sat proudly polishing helmets for the knights they served. Noelle nodded to Tristan’s squire, who she was glad to see had fully recovered from his ailments. It would be difficult to play the squire today, Noelle thought.
“Are you going to give one of the knights your silk handkerchief?” Guinevere whispered for Noelle’s ears only.
“I would like to, but under the circumstances I think not.” They moved past the pavilion displaying the fire-breathing dragon. Please let Nicholas win, Noelle prayed.
A huge crowd had already gathered at the viewing stands when they arrived. There were seven dukes and three kings on hand, and most were already seated. The tournament was considered serious business, for this was the way the men trained for battles.
Noelle followed Guinevere to the central viewing stand. A purple canopy stretched over the platform, indicating where King Arthur’s throne had been placed along with Queen Guinevere’s. They would be able to watch the contest and enjoy the best view. Noelle and her ladies sat in the first row beside the queen.
King Arthur joined them after they were seated. “I believe this will be the best tournament we have had in a long time,” he pronounced, and then he glanced at Noelle and the other ladies. “You look lovely.”
“Thank you, your majesty,” Noelle said as the king moved to his throne. She glanced back to the lists, the field where the jousting would take place. The brown grass had been trampled into the muddy ground from all the practicing, so there was nothing left but dirt. Down the center of the lists was a long fence barrier to prevent the horses from colliding with one another during the match. She knew that the rules of the joust were strict. The knights wore full armor in place of their mail shirts. This would give the men as much protection as possible, in hope of preventing injury.
This was the first real tournament that Noelle had ever seen, and she was unsure of the rules as she watched the squires and pages running around the field each seeming in a hurry to accomplish his task. She leaned over to Guinevere. “Can you explain the rules of the tournament?”
“I think so,” Guinevere said with a smile. “This is my third match, so I have learned a few things. “The knights earn points. One point is given when a knight strikes his opponent hard enough to break the spear. You can well imagine the jolt they receive.”
Noelle nodded.
“It takes three points to win the match. If a knight unhorses his opponent, he is given three points and automatically wins the match,” Guinevere said and then she thought of something else. “Oh, in this tournament the spear heads will be blunted with protective coronals. Since it is Christmas, we do not want any bloodshed. And the men over there—” Guinevere pointed “—are the constables. They are checking the saddles to make certain no knight has used strapping to tie them into the saddle.”
A young man dressed in purple and gold, a trumpet tucked under this arm, marched onto the field. He was the herald, who acted as the master of ceremonies. The crowd cheered, and he had to wait until they were quiet again. He stopped in front of the king and bowed.
When Arthur indicated that he should rise, the herald shouted, “Here ye, Here ye! Camelot’s Christmas tournament shall begin. The rules are as follows,” he announced and then began listing them. When he was finished, he placed the trumpet to his lips and blew a long, loud blast, much different from the earlier sound.
The knights poured onto the field from two different directions. Soon the field glittered with shiny armor and bright pennons as the knights lined up for the king’s inspection. They all turned and faced Arthur, then saluted him by raising their lances.
King Arthur rose. “Go forth and have a good tournament. Do your utmost to win. There is a special prize for Sir Nicholas and Sir Gavin,” the king announced. “They have decided between them that the winner of the two will win the hand of Lady Noelle.” Arthur pointed to Noelle.
All the knights cheered, raising their lances in salute. Everyone in the gallery turned to look at Noelle; they began to cheer.
Noelle wanted to get up and run. Instead, she lifted her head stubbornly, raising her chin, refusing to be embarrassed with so many eyes upon her. Without realizing she’d done so, she had found Nicholas and was looking directly at him. He looked magnificent. His snow-white horse wore white trappings with a blood-red dragon on the side, and the horse’s bridle and reins were studded with bosses of silver. Nicholas had red plumes on his helmet, which he had tucked under his arm. He did not smile at Noelle. His expression was fierce.
Then he looked at her. Slowly and seductively, his gaze slid over her face, and she felt as if he had reached out and touched her for only a moment before the stony mask slid back into place.
He looked determined.
He looked focused.
How Noelle’s body ached for his touch, and she told Nicholas with her eyes how much she loved him. It would have to do since she could not boldly give him her sleeve.
The herald raised the trumpet to his lips again. The knights turned their mounts and left the field, but Noelle couldn’t tear her gaze from Nicholas’s profile. He sat so tall and proud in the saddle.
It was time to begin.
Knight after knight fought one another, lances splintering as the knights earned their points while others were eliminated. Only one tragic accident had happened so far. One knight was knocked from his horse, which bolted and dragged him across the list and out into a field. Noelle heard later that he had a broken leg and arm.
Nicholas had won all his matches so far, and Sir Gavin had won his. The field began to narrow down, and Noelle’s stomach tightened.
Tristan was up next, having defeated his last five opponents. Noelle was proud as she watched her brother take the field. His next opponent took his place, but before the herald could drop the flag, a group of riders came galloping through the open field and onto the list.
One of the riders had a scrap of white silk on the tip of a lance. Noelle wondered where these knights had come from. She didn’t have long to wait to find her answer as the riders stopped directly in front of the king.
The first knight, dressed all in black, raised his visor. It was Meleagant who sat smugly confident upon his black destrier.
Murmurs ran through the crowd. The king’s knights started for Meleagant, but Arthur held up his hand. “The Black Knight comes under a flag of truce. Let him speak.”
“I am glad to see that the king still abides by the rules of chivalry and allows a good knight to speak. After all, I was one of you.”
“You were. Say what you will, Meleagant, and then be gone,” Arthur said the impatience in his voice evident.
“I heard that the tournament was open to all knights.” Meleagant looked around. “I see several countries represented. I have come to compete as well.”
“You are not welcome in Camelot,” Arthur said, his voice striking out like a savage lash.
Meleagant gave a hal
f smile. “Are you afraid I will show up your noble knights?”
“Let him compete!” Lancelot and several other knights cried out.
“I will be happy to joust with the Black Knight first,” Tristan shouted.
“My knights have spoken. But only you can compete, Meleagant. Your men will have to wait outside, but your squire may stay to assist you.”
“So be it,” Meleagant said with a curt nod. He turned and said something to his ten guards. They turned and rode out to the open field to await him. Meleagant rode to the far side of the jousting field and took his position. He was followed by his squire.
Meleagant looked at Peter, his squire, who had dismounted. He selected a lance from his pack and brought it over to Meleagant.
“They are such a stupid lot,” Meleagant sneered. “Their arrogance would not let them decline my offer. Though each one of them would like to kill me, they could not do so unless we were at war. Aye, I am going to enjoy this match right down to the moment I kill their best knight.”
Peter laughed. “And then we will have to make a mad dash to safety. There is no doubt you will win, for we know you have never been defeated in a match.”
Meleagant nodded and lowered his black shield. As he looked at his opponent on the other end, he lowered the visor on his helmet. This would be easy.
What a good way to extract revenge from these mightier-than-thou knights.
And when had Tristan of Cranborne become a knight? Tristan wasn’t as worthless as his brother, but he was definitely inexperienced. Meleagant would be happy to teach the young knight a lesson.
Noelle couldn’t believe how somber the crowd had become. Even the sky had turned a darker gray to match the mood. She was appalled that Meleagant had the arrogance to appear here so soon after murdering her brother. There were many here who wanted to see the man dead, and she was among them. If she had a bow and arrow, she would gladly put a permanent end to his jousting this day.
