The cool fall air grew brisk as the morning deepened and dark clouds appeared, scattered around by the wind. Nathalie and Elise and Lillibet conversed excitedly about the knights riding past, or the general preparations, but Emilie’s attention was elsewhere.
David, Edward, and Brentford had politely departed the carriage when the group had arrived at the tournament field and Emilie had watched, somewhat sadly, as David had walked away. But she had some hope in her heart because he had turned around at least twice to wave at her as he departed, and she had waved in return. It gave her hope that, perhaps, she had made some impression in on him. At least, she sincerely hoped so. It was still difficult to tell. She wanted to ask him to carry her favor that that would have been extremely bold, and she wasn’t willing to come across as too terribly forward, not just yet, so she hadn’t asked. It was something she was now coming to regret.
So she sat in the lists next to Nathalie, watching the field anxiously for any sign of David de Lohr as more competitors took the field to practice. She saw when Brickley emerged into the arena and she saw her father standing down by the edge of the field, but still no David. It began to occur to her that she wasn’t even entirely sure what a de Lohr banner looked like so she called one of her father’s soldiers over to ask him, and he quickly pointed out at least two de Lohr tunics upon knights who were out in the arena. The big de Lohr lion against the sapphire blue backdrop was now emblazoned in her brain. There was a Latin inscription on the bottom of it, sewn in gold thread. Deus et Honora. It meant God and Honor. She would make sure to watch for more of those tunics, and for the de Lohr brother in particular.
But it was a long wait. She kept glancing over at the royal box to catch a glimpse of the terrible man who had ordered the attack against Richard’s supporters the night before, the prince that even great knights like David de Lohr seemed fearful of. Fearful in the sense that John was the son of Henry I and the son of Eleanor of Aquitaine, and from that angle, he was royal to the bone on both sides.
The prince’s mother had once been the queen of Philip, the king of France. She had been the queen of two countries and the mother of ten children, with John being her last, and Eleanor – more than any other woman in the history of England – held tremendous power over her sons and over the country in general. When Richard had left on crusade, he had left his mother ruling as Regent in his stead.
John, seemingly, didn’t care about that and any man who so openly bucked his powerful mother was a man to be feared because he was reckless. Recklessness often came without conscience or common sense. That, more than anything, was to be feared. Even Emilie understood that.
From the position of her seat, it was difficult to see everyone who was in the royal box. There were several people in it, including a beautiful woman with long blond hair and a dark haired man sitting next to her. She thought she caught a glimpse of the prince’s head, once, because he was wearing something on his head from what she could see. She thought it might be a crown. As more and more people were filling the lists, including a man in the royal box who had a hugely swollen and battered face. He sat next to the prince and Emilie lost sight of him, but the excitement was building as more knights came onto the tournament field, warming up their horses. Her attention moved from the royal box and returned to the field.
Now, she saw four de Lohr tunics as men rode about the arena, trotting by the stands and waving to the crowd, eliciting screams of excitement from the women. Natalie was one of those who was shouting with excitement until Lillibet admonished her. Even then, Nathalie would still manage a wave or a shriek now and again. She was too excited about the influx of knights to keep still.
Emilie was full of excitement, too, but only for one man. The knights on the field were covered in mail and tunics, most of them wearing the bucket-like helms of protection on their head. Some of them had articulated face plates that would lift, allowing the knight better visibility, but advanced armor of that sort was only for the very wealthy. Most men had the helms that lifted off in one piece.
But the de Lohrs had the latest and best armor money could provide. The four knights that she could see wore coats of chain mail and tunics that went to their knees. Big leather belts cinched the tunics about the waist and while most knights wore leather shoes that only went to their ankle or mid-calf, the de Lohr knights wore heavy leather boots that went up to the knees to protect the entire shin area. It was most impressive and Emilie was riveted to the men in the lion tunics as they moved around the arena.
“Look at them!” Natalie gasped in awe. “I have never seen so many knights. This is so exciting! I am so glad we came!”
Emilie glanced at her sister, who was flushed with glee. She couldn’t help but grin at the excited young woman. “Brick has passed by the lists a few times,” she said. “You should go to the edge the next time he goes by and offer him your favor.”
Nathalie nodded eagerly. “I shall,” she said. “I hope he will carry it. Papa is down there at the edge of the field; mayhap he will force Brick to carry it.”
Emilie put her hand on her sister’s arm. “Do you truly want the man forced to carry your favor?” she asked. “He should want to carry it willingly. There is no romance in a man who is forced to carry your favor.”
Nathalie shrugged; in theory, she understood but in practice, she very much wanted Brickley to carry her favor and was willing to have her father force the man if necessary. Either way, she wanted Brickley carrying the small piece of silk with the hummingbird embroidered on it that had once belonged to her mother. As she mulled over her reply to her sister, because she didn’t have the same opinion about it that Emilie did, she heard Elise muttering.
In truth, it wasn’t unusual for Elise to mutter. She was fourteen years of age but she was still, in many ways, a young girl. She was very smart, and a bit odd, and very clever with the pranks that she and Natalie would play on the men at Canterbury. With wispy blond hair that tumbled down her back and big brown eyes, like Emilie, she looked somewhat plain and innocent. But there was a fire that burned behind those brown eyes, something that Lyle thought was rather sinister. He thought his youngest daughter was a mad genius planning to rule the entire world someday. In that case, he wasn’t entirely wrong. Elise did rule a world; a world of her very own.
It was a world of her own creation. With her, she carried her precious wooden box, a box that she’d had for many years. It was painted with flowers on it and had once belonged to her mother. While Lady Willow had used it to carry cosmetics and toiletries, Elise had another purpose for it – it carried an array of small figurines that Elise had made herself. They were little figures of wood, perhaps two or more inches tall, and Elise had painted faces upon them. There were men, women, and children, and she even dressed them. She would use small rocks for dogs or other animals. She would paint faces on the rocks that would soon rub off and when they did, she would kill them off and bury them. In fact, she would make her families fight and have the fathers die, only to bury them and replace them with other fathers. It was Elise’s world and she ran it as she saw fit.
It was part of Elise’s personality, as odd as it was, and as she sat in the lists watching the knights in the arena beyond, she opened her box of people (for they went everywhere she did) and brought them out to sit with her on the bench beside her. The muttering that both Nathalie and Emilie had heard was Elise as she spoke of the games to her wooden families. Emilie was tolerant of Elise’s quirk but Nathalie wasn’t; she leaned into her younger sister, frowning.
“Put them away,” she hissed. “Do you want the knights to see this? They will think you are a child!”
Lillibet heard her. She shushed Nathalie, shaking a finger at her. “Leave her be,” she admonished. “She may do as she wishes.”
Spit was flying fast and furious from Lillibet’s lips as Nathalie, and even Emilie, dodged it. Nathalie frowned at her nurse. “But it is so childish,” she insisted. “I care not what she does when we are
at home, but here in public, it is silly for her to play with her families. What will people think?”
Lillibet simply held up a stern finger to silence her. “And it is unseemly for a young lady such to want to give her favor to a man old enough to be her father,” she said, clearly referring to Brickley. “Mind who you call silly, Nathalie, and take care that your father does not hear of your interest in his commander.”
Nathalie turned red in the face and looked away, catching Emilie’s eye before lowering her head in shame. Emilie fought off a grin, rather sympathetic for Nathalie but also sympathetic for Elise and her odd eccentricities. Quickly, she sought to change the focus for both of her sisters’ sakes.
“I am rather hungry,” she said, looking around. “Mother, may we find a food vendor? I thought I saw a few near the end of the field when we first entered.”
Lillibet was straining to see Lyle, down on the arena floor as he was. “We must ask your father,” she said, spit flying out and hitting the woman seated in front of her in the back of the head. “I do not see him.”
Now, all three girls were looking for him, too. He had been standing just below the level of the lists, along the edges of the field, but he’d moved position. Emilie sat up straight, then stood up, looking for her father, but as she did so, a de Lohr knight astride a fat dappled stallion came up to the edge of the royal box and lifted his visor.
The man was handsome, with a blond beard from what Emilie could see, and he was speaking to someone seated in the royal box. Emilie studied him, seeing a faint resemblance in the nose and eyes between the man and David. She was coming to think it was David’s older brother, the great Christopher de Lohr. Eyes riveted to the de Lohr knight, she failed to notice when another knight in a de Lohr tunic pulled alongside the lists nearly directly in front of her.
Emilie had no idea how long David had been there, looking at her. He had flipped his visor up, looking into the stands, as several women were on their feet, calling to him. One or two threw a favor at him. Someone even threw a flower. Emilie, who really hadn’t seen him because of the women standing up in front of her, finally pulled her attention away from the bearded de Lohr knight to catch sight of David as he lingered near the edge of the lists. As she watched, a favor of some kind, went sailing into his helmed head and he didn’t even flinch. He didn’t look at it. He was looking strictly at Emilie. When their eyes met, he smiled.
So did she.
Grinning, biting her lower lip, Emilie waved at him and he dipped his head in her direction, acknowledging her. There was warmth in the air between them and hawk-like focus, as if they were the only two people in the entire arena. Emilie’s heart was fluttering wildly and she summoned the courage to ask him to carry her favor. So many had been thrown at him that she wasn’t sure what would make hers any different. Mayhap he would simply refuse hers, too. So as she sat and smiled at him, struggling to gather her courage, Brickley pulled his big red steed alongside David.
Brickley pointed to the four women sitting at the bench. Nathalie, hoping he was pointing at her, stood up to go to him with joy in her heart but he shook his head and pointed to Emilie, who pointed to herself as if to confirm she was, in fact, the one he was summoning. He nodded and she stood up, making her way down the wooden steps until she reached the railing where the two knights were located. Her attention was mostly on David, still smiling at him, and thankful that Brickley had given her yet another excuse to speak with David. But what came out of Brickley’s mouth was not what she had been expecting.
“I will carry your favor, my lady, as the eldest daughter of the House of Hampton,” Brickley said. “Do you have something fine and sweet to give me?”
Shocked, and greatly dismayed, Emilie looked at the man. Nay! I want David to carry my favor! “I… aye, I do, but… but Papa will want to carry it, I am sure,” she said, struggling not to offend him. “Where is he?”
Brickley nodded his head in the direction of the tents to the east. “His horse has come up lame,” he said. “Your father will not be competing today. Therefore, you can give your favor to me.”
Emilie was nearly beside herself with disappointment. She didn’t want to upset Brickley but she did not want to give the man her favor. “I think you should carry Nathalie’s,” she said. “This is her first tournament, after all, and she would like for a competitor to carry her favor. She was hoping it would be you because… because she doubts Papa will allow anyone else to carry it. I… well, since Sir David came to my rescue last night, I was going to offer my favor to him in gratitude. I think that is most appropriate, Brick. Don’t you?”
Brickley wasn’t thrilled with any of it but David, next to the man, extended a hand to Emilie without hesitation. “It is more than enough gratitude, my lady,” he said, expecting her favor as Brickley frowned at him. “I would be greatly honored to carry your favor on this day. It will bring me great fortune.”
Emilie smiled so broadly that her face threatened to split in two. She pulled a small kerchief out of the cuff on her left wrist and handed it over to David, who took it with a grin. He smelled it, a scent of sweet roses, before tucking it into his tunic. Meanwhile, Emilie turned for Nathalie and gestured to the girl furiously, which brought Nathalie shooting out of her seat and nearly tripping in her haste to make it down to Brickley. She handed her favor over to him and he took it politely, but it was clear he was most displeased by it. David gave Emilie a bold wink, which Brickley saw, before reining his horse away from the lists and thundered across the arena. Courteously thanking Nathalie again, Brickley followed.
As the women remained on the railing in the distance, watching their favored knights ride off, Brickley caught up to David just as the man was leaving the field.
“David,” he called to him. “Wait a moment.”
David paused just outside of the arena gate and waited for Brickley to catch up to him. As Brickley came alongside, he propped his helm up on top of his forehead so he could better see David. His expression was somewhat serious.
“David,” he said. “About Emilie’s favor… do not think it is an invitation from her. She is young and somewhat naïve, and her father already has someone in mind for her. I just thought you should know before you think that this favor means more than it does.”
David regarded Brickley a moment, thinking that the mood between them had just turned oddly unpleasant. There was something in Brickley’s tone that wasn’t particularly friendly and David didn’t appreciate that. Not only was it presumptuous, but it was rude.
“’Tis a mere favor, Brick,” he said evenly. “It was not a proposal of marriage.”
Brickley’s gaze hardened though he tried to fight it. There was something happening in his expression that suggested great displeasure. “I know,” he said. “But I am telling you that the favor means nothing. Emilie is not to be trifled with.”
David sighed pensively, leaning forward on his saddle. “Come out with it, Brick,” he said. “You are clearly warning me off of her. Is it you her father has in mind for her?”
Brickley faltered a moment but was trying to appear as if the question hadn’t rattled him. He tried to be evasive about it, unsuccessfully. “She just wanted to thank you for coming to her aid last night.”
“I know.”
“I… I was not attempting to offend you, David.”
David shook his head. “You did not,” he said. “But you may as well be honest with me. Do you have interest in her? Is that why you asked for her favor?”
Brickley averted his gaze. It was a moment before he spoke. “Possibly,” he said quietly. “I have spoken with her father but he does not seem to think she is old enough for marriage.”
David lifted his eyebrows. “How old is she?”
“She saw eighteen years this summer.”
David pondered that information. She was indeed old enough for marriage and if Lyle was trying to hold off Brickley, it was possible that he, in fact, didn’t want Brickley for his daughter
. Perhaps he told the man she wasn’t old enough simply to keep from offending him. In any case, David was starting to understand more about the situation but it didn’t deter his interest in the least. He was attracted to Emilie and the fact that Brickley wanted the woman didn’t make any difference to him.
David always got what he wanted.
“Am I to assume Lady Emilie does not know any of this?” he asked.
Brickley shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “It is between her father and me at this time. She needn’t know any of it. Therefore, out of respect to me, will you please keep in mind that her favor means nothing to you? It means a great deal to me, however. Treat it well.”
David could have become angry at that moment, or at the very least offended, and in truth, his irritation rose. He couldn’t help it.
“I would treat it with nothing less than the greatest respect, which is more than I can say for the way you treat her, Brick,” he said frankly. “Do you think she is too stupid or foolish to know of your interest in her? Why do you not ask her how she feels about it? Why assume she is simply there to do your bidding and her father’s bidding? Mayhap she has a say in how her life will end up. Have you even considered that?”
Brickley’s expression hardened. “It does not matter how she feels about it and I resent your implication,” he said, tightening the reins on his horse and turning away. “Make sure you return her favor after the event.”
David watched the man ride away, mulling over the conversation and realizing that whatever interest he had in Emilie would need to be explored. Brickley’s threat had pushed him into that position. He didn’t like to be threatened and he didn’t like to be challenged, so it was really Brickley’s fault to begin with. Brickley had made his decision for him. Or perhaps it was more that Brickley had simply made his decision for him.
Perhaps he felt nothing more than an infatuation, but David wasn’t entire sure about that. He’d never felt this way before, about any woman, after having known her so briefly. Therefore, it would stand to reason that it was more than an infatuation and bordered on genuine interest. But interest to what regard? Was the fact that his brother had so recently married weighing heavily on his thoughts, so much so that he, too, was considering marriage?
The de Lohr Dynasty Page 114
