by Jody Hedlund
“Lady Rosemarie,” the duke greeted me once the trumpets had faded. He held his helmet under his arm. “We’re ready for the tournament to begin.”
The sunshine poured down on the three noble knights decked in their best plate armor, their helmets concealing their faces. I couldn’t keep my gaze from straying to the one wearing the emblem of the red dragon. From the stiff but bold way the knight sat on his steed, I now had no doubt it was Sir Derrick.
“Before you begin your day of fighting . . .” I stood and spoke the words expected of me. “I would like to bestow my favor upon one of the knights.”
“Would you like the men to remove their helmets, Lady Rosemarie?” the duke asked.
I shook my head. “There’s no need, your Grace.”
His brow quirked. He was correct in assuming that I didn’t know for sure which man sat behind each helmet. But for me, it didn’t matter.
Along the opposite side of the list, dangling along the makeshift fences and congregating on benches that had been erected, the town — at least those not quarantined and dying from the sudden outbreak of disease — had come out to witness the tournament. My people already were murmuring, clearly recognizing the red dragon emblem. Honoring the bearer of that emblem would send the message that I would reward kindness and bravery and that I wouldn’t tolerate torture.
I slid my gauzy scarf out from around my neck. It was pale blue, the color of the gown I’d worn, and it matched the cloudless blue sky overhead. As I held it out, the silk fluttered in the gentle summer breeze.
“I wish you all good health and fortune this day.” I glanced at each man, including the other noblemen who’d gathered to participate in the jousting. “I pray the best man will win.”
Only then did I let my gaze land upon the knight with the red dragon. “But although I wish you all my favor, I must bestow a special blessing upon only one.”
The crowd grew silent.
I pointed the scarf toward Sir Derrick — or at least I believed it to be him. “Sir, this is for you.”
As the red dragon knight bowed upon his steed, the townspeople erupted into clapping and cheering. The knight spurred his horse toward me, pulling it alongside the tent in front of where I stood. I had to bend to hand him the scarf, and as I did so I caught a glimpse of gray eyes through the slit in his helmet.
It was indeed Sir Derrick.
The intensity in his eyes sent a shimmer of anticipation through my chest and into my heart.
He reached for the scarf, but for an instant I clung to it, suddenly needing to do something more that would let him know my favor went deeper than mere gratefulness for his daring deed with the criminals in the marketplace.
The advice of the women rushed back through my mind. This was neither the place nor the time to begin a conversation with him or ask him questions. But I could smile at him, couldn’t I? And compliment him?
“I wish you well today,” I whispered, giving him what I hoped was my prettiest smile. “I’m sure you’ll be glorious.”
When I released my grip on the scarf, he didn’t budge. Instead he leaned in closer. “And when I win the tournament, my lady, what shall you bestow upon me then?”
“What will make you happy, sir?” I repeated the words I’d spoken to him that day in town when he’d accompanied me with my deliveries to the poor.
His eyes crinkled at the corners, the sign of his smile and his remembrance of the question I’d asked. “I shall think on it.”
“Then I’ll be anxiously awaiting your answer.”
His gaze dropped to my lips. His eyes darkened, and the crinkles disappeared. “Perhaps I’ll lay claim to my reward at the day’s end.”
My heart gave an unexpected flip. I didn’t know quite what to make of his words, except that perhaps he might claim a kiss from me.
He started to back away. I couldn’t let him ride away without encouraging him further. “If you wish to lay claim, sir, then make sure you win.”
The crinkles returned to his eyes and merriment danced to life there. He said nothing more as he rode away. But he lifted my scarf high into the air toward the townspeople, earning more cheers and whistles.
My spirit stayed high the rest of the day. I found myself enjoying the company of the other ladies, even if their banter was inconsequential and about matters that hardly interested me. As the day progressed and my servants brought me news that the poisoned nobleman still lived and was recovering, I found myself appreciating the tournament even more.
The knights took turns charging at each other, gradually eliminating all but the best. Of course, the three noble knights were among the men left unseated for the final rounds. Yet, I was more than a little relieved when Sir Collin and Sir Bennet were finally bested, leaving Sir Derrick in the last joust of the day with one of the other noblemen. How would I have chosen whom to cheer for without stirring more angst between them? I supposed it was inevitable that I would have to single one of them out for more attention. If I was to have any chance of getting married in less than two weeks, I couldn’t dawdle in making a decision. And that meant narrowing down the prospects to one.
Was Sir Derrick that one? Even though he didn’t choose to be?
Throughout the day, I’d learned that Sir Derrick had apparently already gained a reputation throughout the realm for his jousting skills. Even so, I couldn’t mask my nervousness when he took his place at the end of the long list and positioned his lance in one arm for the charge.
The herald finished recounting their great deeds and then sounded the trumpet. The loud blare pushed me to the edge of my chair, and I gripped the armrests until my knuckles turned white.
Sir Derrick dug his spurs into his warhorse and jolted forward. Dust from the hot afternoon swirled around the horse’s thundering hooves. Sir Derrick picked up momentum, aiming his lance at the crest of his opponent’s shield. The other knight had done likewise, and they galloped at full speed toward one another.
My fear rose, almost as palpable as the stench of horseflesh and sweat.
Sir Derrick rode straight and tall, the tail of my scarf gliding in the wind from his helmet, where he’d tied it. The strength in his arm didn’t waver. His lance was unswerving. The power of his body matched that of his beast.
Even so, I had to keep from closing my eyes in a grimace at the moment of impact between the two knights. Their lances cracked against each other’s shields with deafening booms. The impact jarred both of them, and Sir Derrick struggled to stay atop his horse, gripping the beast with his thighs and righting himself just in time. But his opponent was not so fortunate. He wobbled and then slipped off, falling to the ground with a thud that surely knocked the wind from him.
My breath whooshed out too — containing more relief than I’d realized.
The crowd broke into wild cheering. Sir Derrick had been their favorite all day, just as he’d been mine, even though I’d done my best to cheer all the knights equally.
When he reached the other end of the list and reined his horse, he turned. At the sight of his opponent still on the ground, unmoving, Sir Derrick spurred his horse back toward the knight, jumped off, tore of his helmet, and threw himself on the ground next to the man. He’d already loosened the man’s headgear by the time the squires reached their master.
I watched, each of my breaths tight with worry. A jousting tournament was likely to be riddled with danger and injuries. I’d been thankful that so far the day had been uneventful. Except for the usual scrapes and bruises, no one had been injured.
After several tense moments, the knight on the ground finally lifted an arm, allowing Sir Derrick to help him to a sitting position. After a few more minutes, Sir Derrick positioned his arm around the nobleman’s waist and helped him to his feet.
“’Twould appear Sir Derrick is the champion,” said one of the young ladies sitting nearby.
“Why am I not surprised?” laughed another of the women.
“What will you rewa
rd him, Lady Rosemarie?”
The questions and chatter flowed around me, bringing back the memory of my promise to him earlier in the day and sending warmth into my stomach. What would he request of me? I didn’t dare think he might actually ask for a kiss.
And if he did . . . would I give it?
I shivered, but not from cold.
“He’ll likely want a full purse of silver,” said one of the ladies. “After all, he owns nothing and has no prospects, unless the duke or High King is yet planning to reward him for his service to the country.”
“He has no family estates awaiting his return?” I couldn’t keep the question from escaping, although the moment it left my lips, I regretted asking. I ought not ask for information that Sir Derrick had not willingly given me.
Of course he’d told me he had no wealth or family honor, but I hadn’t supposed that meant he was completely landless.
“I don’t know Sir Derrick’s entire background,” said the woman next to me. “But I’ve heard rumors that his father once ruled lands far to the north. When Sir Derrick was but a lad, his father’s castle was attacked by a rival lord who massacred the entire family. If not for a nursemaid who escaped with Sir Derrick, he would have been killed too.”
“Oh my,” I whispered, horrified to think of the pain Sir Derrick had suffered at losing his entire family in such a brutal manner. My gaze chased after him as he assisted the injured nobleman to his tent.
Even when he made his way back to the list a few minutes later, amidst the wild cheering of the crowd, a strange ache had wrapped around my heart and wouldn’t let go.
Sir Collin and Sir Bennet surrounded Sir Derrick, along with his squires, patting him on the back and congratulating him in high fashion. They guided him toward my tent and didn’t stop until they’d congregated below me. Sir Derrick’s hair was plastered to his head, his forehead grazed with several cuts, and his cheeks coasted with the dust of the field. Even so, my pulse raced forward with unusual speed at the sight of his face angled up at me, with his grin wide with pride and his eyes bright with victory.
“Lady Rosemarie,” he called with a gallant bow. “As the champion of this tournament, I have come to dedicate my victories to you.”
With a smile, I rose. A servant proffered a red velvet pillow with a crown of laurels resting upon it. I lifted the crown. “Sir, I accept your dedication, and in return I bestow upon you this crown. You have fought valiantly, and we honor you.”
I had to lean over the edge of the gallery to place the crown upon his bent head. And when he straightened, I found my gaze colliding with his bold one, reminding me that I owed him much more than a wreath of greens.
Chapter
16
I neared the head table, my hand resting on the duke’s arm. The warm summer breeze teased my hair, which Trudy had arranged in long, dangling curls. My steps were light and my heart sang in tune to the lutes the minstrels were playing.
At my approach, the guests had risen from their tables, which were arranged in a U shape around a center stage where everyone would enjoy the play-actors’ open-air performance after the feast. As I climbed the steps of the raised dais where the guests of honor sat, I could feel Derrick’s attention on me from the end of the head table. In fact, I’d sensed him watching me from the moment I’d started across the field and toward the tables the servants had arranged for the feast.
I hadn’t dared to look at him for fear he’d see the anticipation that had been building within me all the while Trudy and the other servants had been bathing and dressing me, ridding me of the dust of the tournament.
The scent of roasted boar turning on spits in the nearby fire pits was tantalizing. It was extra work for my kitchen staff to prepare the feast outdoors near the tournament site, but I was hoping the leftovers would be easier to distribute to the townspeople, who sat on blankets nearby. And I hoped my servants would also be able to enjoy some of the festivities and play-acting.
When I reached the edge of the table, I was near enough to Derrick to catch a whiff of his soapy, clean scent. Like the other knights, he’d shed the armor and grime of the day and was now dressed in his feasting attire.
I trembled under the intensity of his stare and peeked at him out of the corner of my eyes as I passed. The tiny glimpse was my undoing. Even though he stared at me boldly, there was a nonchalance about his stance that gave me pause. He was positioned farthest away from me again, and yet he didn’t seem to mind.
Would the dinner and theater production afterward be a repeat of the dance? Would he ignore me all evening, even while I longed to be near him and speak with him?
The thought sent a cloud through my cheerfulness, and I stopped. At my halt, the duke peered down at me with concern. “Is everything all right, dear one?”
If Derrick was determined to ignore me, then I must find a way to engage his attention, especially now that I knew why he was giving in so easily to his companions. My thoughts returned to all the suggestions the noblewomen had given during the tournament. I inwardly cringed at the thought of trying some of the things they’d mentioned.
I didn’t know quite how to formulate my response to the duke — especially without appearing too forward. My conscience urged me to pass by, to go to my spot at the center of the table without saying more. After all, if Derrick was determined to keep his distance, who was I to interfere with his resolve? I already had the devotion of Sir Collin and Sir Bennet. That should be enough.
But strangely, it wasn’t.
The duke waited for my response.
“Your Grace,” I whispered, standing on tiptoe to reach his ear. I swallowed the nervousness that threatened to prevent me from saying anything. “I should like to honor the winner of the tournament by giving him the seat next to me during dinner.”
The duke pulled back and studied my face. A sparkle sprang to life in his eyes and his lips twitched with a smile. “I’m glad to hear it, Rosemarie,” he whispered in return. “He’s a good man, and he deserves the honor.”
I bowed my head in agreement and also to hide the burning in my cheeks.
The duke faced the gathering. “Lady Rosemarie would like to honor the winner of today’s joust by giving him the highest seat of honor at the table.”
The guests clapped at the announcement. Derrick hesitated and glanced at Sir Collin and Sir Bennet. The other two knights’ smiles and laughter faded. Derrick nodded at them almost apologetically before finally rising from his spot. He bowed to me and then took the duke’s place at my side, offering me his arm. I took hold of him, certain I was now blushing furiously.
“Thank you, my lady,” he said as we moved toward the table. “You’re most kind.”
“You’re most deserving, sir.”
“I would have supposed you anxious to avoid my presence for fear of what prize I might claim from you for my win today.” The low sultriness of his tone made my insides quiver.
“Quite the opposite, sir.” I forced myself to banter even though his nearness made it difficult for me to concentrate on formulating a coherent response. “I’ve been curious to see what you have in mind.”
I wanted to duck under the table at the boldness of my words, but I walked as regally as I could to my place. And I kept my focus straight ahead as he pulled out my chair and helped me into my seat before taking the chair at my side. He didn’t say anything, and ere long I couldn’t resist peeking at him. He was smiling and there was a hint of admiration in his eyes, as if he’d appreciated our witty exchange.
I took a sip of ale from my goblet. Perhaps I didn’t have to be afraid of speaking to him and getting to know him better after all. Perhaps I could practice more of the noblewomen’s suggestions than I’d believed possible.
What ought I do first from their list?
I swiveled in my seat, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to compliment him. “You were quite talented today, sir. I’m quite in awe of your fighting skills.”
He was in the midd
le of taking a swallow of his ale. At my words of praise, he choked. “Thank you, my lady,” he finally said after sputtering through a cough. “I don’t deserve your . . . awe.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Sir Collin called from his spot down the table. He and Sir Bennet still brooded, but Sir Collin put on a brave smile. “Derrick handles the lance and the halberd better than any other knight in the land.”
Sir Bennet pushed away from the table and stood so abruptly that the platters and goblets rattled. He glared at Derrick, his brows coming together in a dark scowl. Next to me, I could feel Derrick stiffen as though anticipating a battle with his friend.
For a long moment the two locked eyes, and the chatter of the other guests came to a halt. Then finally Sir Bennet raised his goblet. “I’d like to propose a toast to the champion of today’s joust.” He pointed his cup at Derrick and everyone else did likewise before taking a sip.
As the conversations resumed, Sir Bennet sat down but gave Derrick a low parting comment. “You may have won the tournament, but that doesn’t mean you’ve yet won Lady Rosemarie’s heart.”
For a long moment the two men seemed to be waging a silent war, until finally Sir Collin elbowed Sir Bennet and muttered something in his ear.
Derrick was silent as the servants placed the steaming platters of boar upon the table, along with meat pies, fish tarts, and cow’s tongue.
I wanted to apologize for any tension I was causing between the men, but before I could formulate the words, Derrick spoke. “Have no fear, my lady. No matter our squabbles, we shall always remain the closest of companions.” I raised my brow in skepticism.
“They’re the best friends a man could ever ask for.” Derrick spoke as though to convince himself as he speared a piece of pork on his trencher with the tip of his knife and took a bite.
