Lord of the Blade (27 page)

Then they held the swords forward. The
knights-to-be pressed their lips upon the hilt of their swords
before the weapons were returned to Brother Ruford and Father
Chapman. The sponsors then helped the men on with their heavy, but
shining helms.

A loud clash of music split the air, and the
bishop motioned with a glance that it was time for Corbett and
Kenric to step forth. Corbett started to advance, but Kenric
quickly grabbed his arm.

"Yetta was only a servant also," he said
with a firm lip, "And I regret the life of hell I have lived
denying my heart."

"Are you suggesting I put my heart before my
duties?"

Kenric shook his head solemnly. "I am not
telling you what to do, but remember you have been granted the
courtesy by King Edward himself to choose your own bride. I am only
suggesting you not ruin a beautiful love between a woman and a man.
The man who has found love, has been given a very special gift
indeed."

"The king has declared I am to choose a wife
by the end of the festivities. My sworn allegiance to him requires
me to choose."

Kenric nodded his head slightly. “So
choose.” He stepped forward, taking the sword from Father Chapman
and commanding Malcomn to kneel before him. After reminding Malcomn
of the codes of chivalry, he brought the flat end of his sword to
each of Malcomn's shoulders and dubbed him a knight. As Malcomn
proudly sheathed his new sword, Corbett stepped forward, retrieving
the remaining sword from Ruford, and stood in front of Delwynn.

He could hardly concentrate, as the sword
brought to mind his own sword,
Devon's Desire.
A flood of
memories swamped him, Devon’s sobs embedded in his conscious, the
need to hold and comfort her weighing heavy on his mind. Delwynn
kneeled and bowed his head before his lord while Corbett listened
in awe to the words of wisdom that sprang from his own lips.

"Remember always to be loyal, true, and
trustworthy to God and your people. As you will serve them both
now, each one symbolized by the two sides of the blade of your
sword. Give to the poor, and help those in need. And be able to
look into your heart and have the courage to be true to the love
that is lodged deep within.” He touched each of the boy's shoulders
with the sword. “In the name of the saints, and by all that is
good, I thee dub you, Sir Delwynn."

The crowds cheered, and the music once again
began. Delwynn got to his feet, and embraced arms in a firm grip
with Corbett.

"You have served me well," Corbett relayed
with admiration. "You will make a fine knight, Sir Delwynn."

Delwynn's faced beamed at the sound of his
new title. "Thank you, my lord. I will do my best."

Corbett slapped him on the back. "Go!" he
commanded. "Your horse awaits." Turning to Malcomn, Corbett found
himself looking into the face of arrogant disdain.

"Congratulations, Sir Malcomn," Corbett
replied stiffly.

"I prefer to keep my title of lord," he
corrected him.

"Why not," answered Corbett, "as you have
really earned neither of the titles."

"I am a knight now," Malcomn saw to remind
him. "And as a knight, I take that as a direct attack against me. I
will challenge you to a joust."

"With pleasure.” Corbett had always wanted
to put Malcomn in his place, and this would be the perfect
opportunity to do it."

"We need a prize," suggested Malcomn.

"You choose," answered Corbett boldly, "as I
will be losing naught, but only gaining with my triumph, so it does
not matter to me."

"Do you mean that?"

"I am a knight," replied Corbett. "My word
is gold."

"All right then," smiled Malcomn
triumphantly. "If I lose, you may choose from any of my servants.
And if you lose, Devon will from this day on be mine."

“You son of a bitch!” Corbett ground out,
knowing he’d been tricked.

Malcomn left Corbett standing by himself as
he ran to his horse and leaped into the saddle without touching the
stirrups. With congratulations from the crowd, two squires ran
toward the new knights, handing them each their shield and lance.
The pennons of the lances gave way to three tails each that flapped
in the breeze and caressed the riders' helmets as they proudly
maneuvered their horses in a showy manner.

The crowds followed the knights to the
practice area where a display of their skills with the quintain
would be demonstrated before the celebration feast.

Corbett stood frozen to the spot, not able
to move. What had he done? In his hostility toward Malcomn, he had
let himself fall into a trap. He would win this joust. Because if
he didn’t, he would never forgive himself for the fate he’d sealed
for Devon.

Chapter 20

Devon pushed open the lid of the trunk as
soon as the door closed. She’d been lucky to hide before Boltoff
and Thorpe entered the room. Twice that day, she’d almost been
discovered. And twice she’d heard shocking confessions that
horrified her.

After the baroness had left with Thorpe,
he’d returned with their fearless leader Boltoff. Boltoff wanted
Kenric’s riches by way of capturing and ransoming Malcomn. He’d
made offers to Thorpe he couldn’t refuse and Thorpe agreed to help
him, hence betraying his sister.

Devon had been too shocked to move, but
their next plans were what made her blood turn to ice. In order to
succeed with Malcomn’s capture at the tournament, they had to
insure Corbett was disabled. Boltoff’s plan included a melee. He
intended to kill Corbett!

She had to warn him. She ran for the door
and tugged on the latch, but the heavy wood did not move. That’s
when she’d realized Thorpe had slid the bar hold across the other
side of the door. She was trapped in the tower, with no way
out.

She fell to her knees and sobbed into her
hands. Corbett's life would be taken and she was powerless to do
anything to stop it. She had to find a way out. She had to warn
Corbett. She grabbed the home-made chair and rushed toward the
window. She could just manage to reach the wooden shutter, and
pulled it wide open. The bright sun was almost blinding to her
eyes. It was nearing midday and the lack of voices below led her to
believe the crowds had already gathered into the great hall for the
feast.

She knew no one would hear her, even if she
yelled. And with the window being so high, she couldn't even see
out to try to signal to the sentry on watch. Now her only hope was
that someone may see the open window that had been closed for years
and decide to investigate. But with the commotion and excitement
from the day's festivities, chances were very slim that it would be
noticed at all.

Everything was so clear to her now. The
reason the baroness tried to poison her husband, and why they’d
never found the man who was the baron’s heir. Wilona, Heartha’s
daughter, had saved Devon’s life by lying of her gender when she
was born to the servant Yetta. She knew now she was that child. She
had the mark of the dagger on the back of her neck, and the
sorcerer’s amulet to prove it. She removed the circular piece from
her pocket and held it up to the light. She ran her fingers over
the tarnished relic and saw a worn, faded image almost observable.
Holding it up to the sunlight, the relic glowed as it did that
night in the baron’s chamber. A dragon - the baron’s crest was now
visible upon the surface

She put the amulet atop the table and paced
the floor, thinking.

"I have to find a way to warn Corbett." She
looked again at the high window, wishing she could at least reach
it to see what was going on below. The sound of whinnying horses
and the clashing of metal led her to believe that more time had
passed than she realized, as the meal was over and the tournament
was about to begin.

If only they all knew they would soon be in
battle. So many lives at stake, and she was so powerless to do
anything to stop it.

"This is supposed to be a place of magic?"
she questioned, rummaging around, hoping to find a trap door, or
some means of escape. "This is more like a dungeon, with only one
tiny window and so high that only a bird would be able to
escape."

Her body froze in action and she stopped
pushing a trunk across the floor. She felt the cold stare of
someone watching her. She looked up to see the shadow on the wall,
knowing at once who it was. Slowly, she turned to face the tall
window, and meeting her gaze from the sill was the enormous black
body of Corbett's raven.

"Only a bird could escape," she repeated her
words, thinking of Gilda’s spell and the disappearance of the old
sorcerer. She slowly backed to the wall, reaching for it to steady
her. The raven swooped in and settled upon the table.

"You almost seem as if you belong here," she
spoke to the bird. "Could it be this room was once…yours?"

The raven gave a series of nasal sounding
caws, and with the spread of his monstrous wings, landed on the
nearby table.

"Corbett is in trouble! His life is in
danger, and I must warn him at once. If you are really a sorcerer
than you must find a way to give him the message.” The raven seemed
not to listen to a word she said. Instead, it played with her
amulet, picking it up and dropping it on the table.

"What am I doing?" she cried aloud. "I am
pleading with a feckless bird who cares naught of a man's life and
would rather be pecking at one's dead carcass than trying to save
him. Give me that!" she exclaimed, striding to the table and
reaching forth her hand to grab her amulet. The raven flew up to
the ledge of the window with her amulet in its beak.

She inched forward slowly, holding out her
hand. “Give me the amulet,” she said slowly, but the bird flapped
its wings and disappeared out the window.

“No!” she screamed, but ’twas too late. Her
good luck charm that had protected her throughout her life was
gone.

“Devon?”

She turned with a jerk, and to her relief,
she saw her friend Leahla standing in the open door. “Heartha has
been looking everywhere for you.”

Devon ran to her friend and grabbed her by
the hand. “Hurry,” she cried. “I need to save Lord Corbett’s
life.”

"Where is the girl?" Malcomn's horse turned
impatiently as if anticipating the joust.

"What does it matter?" answered Corbett
gruffly, "for you will lose.”

Corbett brushed from his face one of the
many trailing scarves that hung from the large metal eagle
decorating the top of his helm. He was a favored knight of many a
lady, and it showed, as he now sported several of their silken
tokens upon his head.

The women called to him from the lists,
sending their best wishes for the joust and Corbett knew they each
secretly hoped he'd choose them as his wife.

"You gave me your word," sneered Malcomn.
The long pale sleeve of a lady love which was tied around his upper
arm blew daintily into the warming breeze.

"I am a man of my word," reassured Corbett,
"although I can't honestly say I believe you are."

"I am a knight now," reminded Malcomn, the
bright sun reflecting from his armored plates, causing Corbett to
squint. "I assure you I will abide by the codes of chivalry, and
you will not get the opportunity to see me disgraced."

"We will soon see about that." Corbett
cantered his horse toward the opposite end of the tilt yard.
Several squires rushed up to hand him his shield and lance, as he
was to joust with Malcomn next.

"My lord!" shouted Leighton, rushing to his
side just as he took his place behind the starting rope. "I have
spotted Devon, here in the crowd."

"Where is she?" asked Corbett. His mighty
stallion whinnied in anticipation as he held back the reins.

"I am not sure, my lord, for she has managed
to evade me once again."

"Then find her.”

The trumpets blew and a cheer went up from
the crowd. The herald called out the announcement that Corbett and
Malcomn were the next to joust. Corbett's horse snorted and
stamped. Finally, the rope was snatched away, and with a swift kick
of his spurs Corbett charged toward Malcomn with his wooden lance
leading his way.

The thundering of his steed's charging
hooves echoed in his head as he rode toward the opposing man and
beast, both covered with the baron's crest. His anger mounted and
he raised his lance. "You shall never have her!"

With a loud smash, the dragon that was
mounted atop Malcomn's helm went flying. Corbett looked down to see
he had shattered his lance.

"The first point goes to Lord Corbett!"
shouted the King of Arms, announcing the joust.

A squire rushed to replace Corbett's broken
lance, the crowd cheered. He turned his steed, and at the King of
Arms' signal, he again charged forth to meet Malcomn who thrust his
lance forward, only to be blocked by Corbett’s massive shield which
deflected his blow. The force knocked Corbett backward, but his
tall-sided saddle kept him in place. Wooden splinters filled the
air and another loud roar went up from the sidelines. Malcomn
angrily grabbed a fresh lance from a young squire as the announcer
relayed that this act would cost Malcomn a point - when he finally
did manage to score.

Corbett steadied his breathing as the sweat
slipped down his face from inside the restricting helm. The small
slit for sight made one feel almost blinded, except to what was in
his direct line of vision. Once more, the men readied their horses
and as the signal was given, they forged ahead.

Corbett steadied his sight on Malcomn. One
last thrust, and Corbett was sure he could dismount his opponent,
winning the joust and therefore securing that the woman he loved
would never go to his foster brother.

The horses neared one another, the tension
surmounted. The saddles creaked as the knights leaned forward
placing their lances in position for what could possibly be the end
of the joust. But Corbett's attention was swayed as a sight from
directly behind Malcomn caught his eye.