"You seem awfully sure."
She turned to glare up at him. "I am sure." She saw something in her brother's eyes and realized that the laughter of the morning had hurt him. "He is the one who put the mud in your helmet, the one who released the bees."
Severn stared at her. "You are sure?"
"Aye," she said with conviction. "It is not skill he uses as much as fear. Why else appear in disguise? He knew he could not beat you, and he knew he could not make you afraid, so he tried to break your spirit with laughter."
She could have told her brother that the man in the black armor was Smith, the man Severn had believed to be his friend, but she did not. She wasn't sure why she didn't tell Severn the truth; perhaps from fear of his rage at such a betrayal, or perhaps because if she gave more than the necessary information, it might lead to more questions, and Severn would discover Tearle's true identity.
Severn straightened and looked at the man on the black horse, and as Zared watched his eyes changed. Her brother was returning. She saw again the man of supreme confidence, and no longer were his eyes filled with doubt.
"Aye, I can take him," Severn whispered.
Knock him down for me, Zared thought. Beat him to repay him for his humiliation of me. She turned and went back to the tent with her brother to help him dress.
An hour later she walked with her brother to the lists. Upon seeing Severn the crowd began to smile and poke one another in the ribs. Zared soon found out that the Black Knight had knocked Colbrand to the ground and had then challenged him to fight on foot with axes. Colbrand had refused the challenge.
"If the Black Knight can beat Colbrand, he can beat anyone," the people said as Severn walked past, clanking in his armor.
"Remember the bees," Zared said as she handed Severn his lance once he was mounted.
Severn nodded and slammed his face guard down. When the herald blew his horn he thundered forward.
Both men broke lances at the first pass. Even score.
At the second pass both lances broke. Still even.
"Remember the mud," Zared said.
Severn broke his lance against the Black Knight at the third pass, but he managed to dodge the knight's lance. A point scored for Severn.
"I believe he means to have Lady Anne," Zared said, giving her brother water. "He wants to make people laugh at you so he can gain her hand and her money."
Severn's eyes blazed as he slammed his faceplate down. He charged the Black Knight as he would charge a man on a battlefield. He was out for blood. He sat firmly in his saddle, leaned forward, held his lance in his gauntleted hand, and charged.
Everything happened too quickly for Zared to understand. One moment her brother was charging, and the next he was on the ground. The crowd's roar of approval for the Black Knight's win was deafening as she ran under the barricade to help her brother.
Severn, humiliated beyond words, pushed his sister away and stomped back to the tent. Zared followed, carrying his helmet.
"What happened?" she asked once they were alone.
"He bested me," Severn answered. "The better fighter won."
"I do not believe that. You are better than he is."
Severn picked up an apple from the little side table and crushed it in his strong fingers. After a while he turned to Zared, his handsome face showing his rage. "My saddle cinch slipped. He never touched me. I fell off my horse."
Zared swallowed. The Howard man would pay for this, she thought. She would make him pay if she had to die trying.
Chapter Nine
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Tearle swam underwater, only coming up to the cold surface of the lake when his lungs were bursting. He swam on his back for a while, smiling as he moved. He doubted he'd ever felt so good in his life. He was tired, sore, hungry, and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to replace all the water he'd sweated out, but he felt very good.
He had done exactly what he'd set out to do: He had proved to Zared that he was a man. He was sure she'd recognized him, for he'd seen her eyes widen. He wondered what had given him away, but perhaps she just sensed who he was, as he had known she was female the first time he'd seen her.
He turned onto his stomach and swam easily across the lake. She would change toward him now, he thought. No longer would she doubt him. No longer would she think him less than a man.
He swam to the edge of the lake and walked onto the shore. Two of his brother's men were hidden in the trees. Throughout the tournament they had stayed dressed as merchants, and Tearle had paid them well to keep his secret. They had helped him dress and undress, and they had hidden his horse and armor.
He dried himself and began to dress, smiling all the while. It had not been easy beating all the contestants. By the time he got to Severn his body was screaming with pain. The bruises where the horse had kicked him, combined with the jarring his body took when his lance met steel, was almost more than he could bear.
But any amount of pain was worth it, he thought, for he had beaten them all. Colbrand had been difficult, and only sheer will power had kept him on his horse. By the time he got to Severn he wasn't sure he would succeed. Severn was good, very good, and after Severn's lance broke Tearle had been sure Severn was going to beat him. But on that last run, almost by magic, Severn had flown out of his saddle and landed on the ground.
It had been a bittersweet moment for Tearle because he could not savor his triumph. He could not remove his helmet and show the roaring crowd who he was. He had only a moment to watch Zared run to her brother before the crowd reached him. The people meant to see who the mystery man was. Tearle had turned his horse and thundered away before they could reach him.
He had ridden into the forest a few miles, his brother's men behind him, then tiredly dismounted at the side of the lake. He'd stood while the men unfastened his armor, then he'd removed his sweat-soaked clothes and waded into the water.
An hour later he was feeling better. He was eager to see Zared's pretty little face. She placed so much importance on skill at arms, unlike most women who liked soft words and flowers, and now he had shown her he was even better at arms than her brother.
As he mounted his horse he smiled again. At last the woman was going to look at him as something other than an enemy.
Zared had no experience at soothing a melancholy man, for in her lifetime her brothers had mostly been full of rage. She had seen them overcome with grief when death struck their family, but that grief was usually tinged with anger, for most Peregrine deaths had been caused by Howards.
However Severn's anger was different this day, for his confidence seemed to be broken. She had never known her brothers when they were not utterly confident. The way Severn sat silently inside the tent, not speaking, eating alone, seeing no one but Zared, caused her more concern than anything she'd ever experienced.
When the Howard man entered at sundown she turned to look up at him, and for a moment she could not keep her hatred for him from her face. For what he had done to Severn she could easily have killed him. She looked away quickly. She would not let him see her hatred because she planned to revenge herself on him. She didn't know how she was going to do it, but she was going to make him pay.
"There was an illness in my family," Tearle said, looking from one to the other. He had carefully rehearsed the excuse for his absence, but the look in Zared's eyes made him forget everything. If he'd thought he'd seen hatred from her before, that had been nothing compared to what was there now.
"You missed the final humiliation of the Peregrines," Severn said, sitting on the cot.
Tearle looked from Severn's ravaged face to the back of Zared's head and knew that something was very wrong. Did Severn take one defeat so hard? he wondered. Tearle had thought more of the man than that.
Tearle filled a plate with food, then sat on a stool to eat. Zared didn't look at him. "I hear there was some excitement today," he said, his mouth full. "Something about a mystery knight."
Severn, after one angry gl
ance at Tearle, left the tent. Zared, glad she had not identified Tearle as the Black Knight to her brother, left quickly to follow Severn.
"Return to our camp," Severn said to her when they reached the edge of the forest.
"People should be told," she said. "They should know that that man did not knock you from your horse. Had not the cinch been loosened, you would have beaten him."
Severn turned on her. "I am to cry foul play? That will cause more laughter." He turned away. "You do not understand. I have failed."
"You have not failed! You have an enemy at this tournament, and he has taken the victory from you."
"Aye, we Peregrines have an enemy, but Oliver Howard is not here. Do you not see that this is the end of our hope to regain what we have lost?"
"What do you mean?" she whispered.
"I had hoped to show myself well at this tournament and catch Hugh Marshall's eye. And after the humiliation of this day no man would give his daughter to a Peregrine. The word of this tourney will spread from one end of England to the other. If I do not get a rich wife, we will never be able to afford what is needed to beat the Howards. We will never get back what they have stolen from us."
Zared could not bear to hear the words, for all of this was her fault. If she had told Severn from the first that the man he trusted was actually a Howard, this would not be happening. She remembered all too well seeing the Howard man with the Lady Anne.
"You shall marry her," Zared said softly. "If it is possible, you shall marry the Lady Anne."
She turned away and left her brother. She had some serious thinking to do.
As Zared walked back through the crowd to the Peregrine tent many people stopped to look at her and smile. Everyone was once again laughing at the Peregrines.
Once inside the tent she saw the Howard man asleep on his cot. She did not hesitate as she picked up Severn's sword in both hands and prepared to bring it down over the man's neck.
Tearle rolled away as the sword swung downward. He hit the floor and came to his feet in one movement, then leaped across the cot to land heavily on Zared, throwing her to the ground and pinning her under him.
"You could have killed me," he said into her face.
"I meant to," she spat at him. "Even if I die for ridding the world of you, it would be an honor."
He looked down at her. She had always looked at him with anger, but there had also always been an underlying softness. Now there was no softness. Had he been fully asleep when she attacked, he would not be alive, for she would have severed his head from his neck.
"What has happened?" he asked softly, easing his weight off of her but still pinning her with his arm, a leg thrown across hers.
"What your brother could not do, you have done. Yet he uses a man's weapons, while you use treachery and deceit. My brother thinks you are a… a friend." She nearly choked on the word.
He didn't dare release her, for the look in her eyes told him she'd attack again. "What do you know?"
"I know all. You want the Lady Anne for yourself. You—"
"Anne? I want Anne?"
"You conspire with her. You—"
Tearle could only look down at her. She was saying he wanted Anne. If Anne was angry at a man, she wouldn't grab a sword and try to behead him, she'd dress in some beautiful gown and seduce him into doing what she wanted. No, Tearle did not want Anne. He'd much rather have Zared, who spoke and acted honestly, with no hidden meaning, no hidden treachery.
He had not heard all of what Zared was saying. "Why would I want Anne?"
"She is a rich wife for a second son."
"True." He moved his hand down her arm and moved closer to her.
"Do not touch me!" she yelled, fighting against him, but he held her easily, although he grunted when she hit a sore place.
"I do not want Anne," he said, and he put his face against her neck.
Zared let her body go limp. Then, when the man relaxed, she rolled away from him, and as she did she kicked him hard between the legs.
Tearle groaned and grabbed himself with one hand and Zared with the other. "Sit!" he commanded, shoving her onto a cot. He hovered over her, trying to recover from the pain, and when he could at last breathe again he bent over her. "I want to hear all. I want to hear all that is in your head."
"I will tell you nothing," she said, firm-jawed.
"If you do not tell me, I will tell your brother who I am."
"He will kill you!"
"As he did today?" he asked mockingly, then he wished he hadn't. He had not meant to admit he had disguised himself.
"You loosened his cinch," she screamed at him. "You humiliated him! You want the Lady Anne!"
Tearle had to hold her to keep her on the cot while he thought about what she'd said. Perhaps there had been no "magic" to Severn's being unhorsed. Perhaps he had slipped. After all, Tearle's lance had barely touched him.
"Someone loosened Severn's cinch?" he asked softly, fearing his brother's hand. Since the king was gone, Oliver might dare much.
"You should know. You put the mud in his helmet, the honey on his—"
"What?" Tearle straightened and looked down at her. "I put mud in his helmet?" he asked indignantly.
"The people laughed at Severn," she said, and misery at the memory of that laughter was replacing her rage. "Severn will not get his rich bride now, and it will be my fault. If I had told him about you at the beginning, he could have killed you. Better that he was executed than suffer this humiliation."
Tearle couldn't seem to think for a moment. He had meant merely to dress in black armor to impress a girl, but instead of impressing her he had somehow caused her family humiliation and dishonor.
"What would you have of me?" he asked softly. "Shall I go? Shall I leave here and never see you again?"
"Yes," she said, putting her face in her hands. "You have ruined all. Severn will never marry his rich bride."
He put his hand lightly on her hair. "You must believe that I meant only good for you and your brother. I never meant—"
She jerked away from his touch. "Go! Leave me. I never want to see you again. You have ruined all for my family."
Tearle turned away from her, not really understanding, but hearing the deep sorrow in her voice. He left the tent and intended to leave her life, but first he wanted to find out what she meant when she talked of mud in a helmet.
It didn't take Tearle long to hear the story, for it was all the people on the grounds could talk of. As he listened to each recounting of the story of bees and mud and broken lances a suspicion began to grow inside him.
"Hugh Marshall won't be giving his lovely daughter to a Peregrine," one man said, laughing. "He wouldn't want a fool for a son-in-law."
"The Black Knight is who Marshall wants. I hear he's offering a reward to anyone who can tell him who the man is."
"The reward being the Lady Anne," someone else said, laughing.
Tearle didn't listen to any more but walked away. He paid a boy to go to the hall and deliver a message to Anne that he would meet her in the garden at dark.
A few hours later, when he arrived in the garden, Anne was there waiting for him, and her beautiful face was radiant in the moonlight.
"You were magnificent," she said, holding his shoulders and kissing both his cheeks. "Really magnificent, and Tearle, it worked so well. My father no longer speaks of that Peregrine man. Now all he talks of is the Black Knight, who, of course, will never be found."
"And this pleases you, that Severn is no longer considered by your father for marriage?" he asked softly.
"It pleases me very much. He is a dreadful man, and I could not bear to spend five minutes' time with him."
"Have you done so? Have you spent five minutes with him?"
Anne stopped smiling and gave him a hard look. "What is on your mind? Are you not pleased with your victory?"
He turned away from her. Pleased? He had meant to show Zared he was not the weakling she believed him to be, but ins
tead he had made her hate him and had caused a good man like Severn great humiliation.
He looked back at her. "Who put the mud in Severn's helmet?"
Anne looked away, but not before he saw her smile.
He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. "Who, Anne? Who made the people laugh at him?"
She jerked away from him. "I will not marry him. He has humiliated me publicly. Did you see what he did to me at the procession? He picked me off the ground in front of everyone. Twice he has tried to kiss me.
"He wasn't like the fawning men at court, was he?" he asked softly. "Severn wrote no love poems to your beauty. He did not woo you with words."
She glared at him. "I do not like your tone," she said, lifting her skirts and starting to walk away.
Tearle caught her arm. "Severn is a good man. His manners may have little polish, but he is a good man. He cares about his family and his honor. He is a man with a great deal of pride."
At that Anne broke. She put her hands over her face to hide her tears. "And I have no pride?" She looked up at him as she tried to control the tears. "Yes, I humiliated him. Yes, I made people laugh at him. But tell me, what else could I do? What other ways of fighting are open to me? I have told my father I do not want to marry this man. I have told Peregrine I do not want to marry him, but no one listens to me. Don't you understand that I had to do something?"
Tearle had no answer for her. He gave a sigh, and when he spoke it was softly. "Who does your father favor now that Severn has been made to look a fool?"
Anne sniffed. "My father chose my sister's husband based on his connection to the throne. For me he says he wants a strong man."
"A wise father," Tearle mumbled.
"He favors Colbrand or—"
"Colbrand!" Tearle gasped. "The man is an idiot. He has no sense."
"He has lovely manners and is beautiful to look at."
"And easy to manage," Tearle answered. "If you married Colbrand, you'd eat him alive. He is no match for you."
The Conquest Page 13
