The Eyes of God (21 page)
Authors: John Marco
“Still, I honor him. As do most of the Chargers. He fought in the war against Norvor, and against Marn. That’s where he was wounded.”
Cassandra snuck a peek at Glass again, and at the peculiar way his empty sleeve dangled at his shoulder. “Remarkable.”
“He is remarkable,” said Lukien. “As I said, he is a hero.”
“Hero,” scoffed Akeela. “You are twice the hero Glass ever was, Lukien.”
Lukien shook his head. “No.”
“Yes,” Akeela insisted. “Twice and more.”
“The king is kind.”
“I know something of Baron Glass,” said Figgis suddenly. The old man shifted eagerly forward. “I learned about him when I was in Marn, during the war. Sir Lukien is right, my lord; he was a great soldier. And if I’m not mistaken, he served your father well.”
Akeela rolled his eyes. “You are an expert on too many things, friend Figgis.”
“Good,” said Cassandra brightly. “Then let us change the subject. Figgis, my husband tells me you are a learned man, a great scholar.”
The old librarian puffed up at the compliment. “The king does me proud to say so, my queen. But yes, I would agree with his description. I have studied many subjects all my life. Languages, the patterns of the stars, poetry.” He thought for a moment. “To be true, it is hard to think of a subject that bores me.”
Cassandra laughed. He was a peculiar man, but she liked the twinkle in his eyes. “And Jador,” she added. “The king says you are an expert on that land.”
“Ah, now you have touched on my greatest passion, my queen.” Figgis’ face lit up. “If anyone can be called an expert on Jador, than I suppose it is I. Since I was a boy the Jadori have fascinated me. When I—”
“Figgis, stop,” said Akeela, smiling. “Really, the queen was just being polite.”
The old man looked hurt, but soon found solace again in the food and entertainment. The knights who had taken the field were ready for the first bout. Lukien shoved his plate of pheasant away, sitting up to watch the joust. Behind him, Baron Glass told his children to take their seats as he, too, relished the coming combat.
The tournament stretched into the afternoon, as knight after knight took to the field for the honor of the king and queen and the ladies in the audience. There were jousts and archery exhibitions, feats of swordplay and horsemanship, and Cassandra watched it all with disinterest, feeling queasy and exhausted. Then, finally, it was time for Lukien to fight.
The Bronze Knight had left the gallery an hour earlier, to prepare for his bout. Now he was at one end of the parade ground, sitting atop his charger with his helmet in the crook of his arm. He was splendid in his bronze armor. The horse he rode shared the same bronze outfitting, protected with layers of metal along its breast and flanks and bearing an ominously forged headpiece. A page stood beside him, lance in hand. Akeela had explained that the lance was dulled and tipped with a protective head—a coronal, he’d called it. Lukien reached for the lance and inspected it, then looked over the other weapons arrayed nearby. A mace awaited its use, as did a broadsword. Another page held Lukien’s shield, emblazoned with the crest of Liiria. Lukien nodded to the boys, then looked across the field at his opponent. There sat Trager, his head hidden beneath his dark helmet, the reins of his stallion held tightly in gray gauntlets. Unlike Lukien, Trager wore the traditional silver armor of the Royal Chargers. His helmet bore the likeness of a ram’s head, replete with curling horns.
“I think neither of them cares for the other,” said Cassandra absently. She remembered Lukien’s rage when Tomas had died, and how he had called Trager a fool. The lieutenant’s face had twisted horribly at the insult. Cassandra was sure he wore the same expression now under his dark mask. Her heart raced with worry. Akeela took her hand, surprised to find it trembling.
“My lady, you’re shivering,” he said.
Cassandra frowned. “It is a barbaric sport, and I hate it,” she said. “Look at them, one just as eager to kill the other. I can’t watch this.”
Akeela laughed. “Ah, but it is sport, as you say. And it’s what these people have come to see—a spectacle. Look, see how they watch?”
The hush over the crowd was remarkable. Everyone waited for the outcome of the duel, which Trager had boasted he would win.
“Lukien tells me Trager’s been practicing,” Akeela remarked. “We shall see.”
“Lukien will win, won’t he?” asked Cassandra. “I mean, he won’t be hurt, will he?”
Akeela looked at her askance, and for a moment she regretted her question.
“No,” said Akeela. His eyes narrowed. “But your concern is refreshing.”
Out on the field, Lukien put on his helmet. The officer of the tournament, a plump, middle-aged man, came to stand in front of the gallery and summoned the jousters. Both Lukien and Trager trotted forward, bringing their mounts to stand beside the officer, then removing their helmets as they faced the king and queen. For a moment, Lukien’s eyes met Cassandra’s. He seemed to wink at her reassuringly. Trager’s face was furious, his jaw clamped tight.
The officer proclaimed, “My King and Queen, these two gentlemen have come into your presence, recommended by your good grace humbly, beseeching you to find the best jouster. To him, a diamond will be the prize. To the second, a ruby.”
Akeela held out both hands. In the right was a brilliant diamond. In the left, a blood red ruby. He said, “To the best shall go the diamond, and to the second the ruby. And when the tournament is done, we shall retire to the banquet rooms of Lionkeep, and dance and drink.” He handed both gems over to Cassandra. “Who will win the diamond from the fair hand of the queen?”
Lukien said, “I think we know the answer to that, my lord.”
The gallery laughed, as did the rest of the crowd. Cassandra saw Trager’s face twitch, and for a moment she pitied him.
“Sir Trager, good fortune to you,” she said. Then she looked at Lukien. “And to you, my champion.”
“I will make you proud, my queen,” said Lukien.
“Then to your stations,” ordered the officer. He watched as both men bowed to the gallery, replaced their helms, and rode back to their positions on the opposite ends of the field. Lukien’s page offered him a lance, which the Bronze Knight tested for balance before tucking beneath his arm. Across the field, Trager did the same. The pages fell away. The combatant’s horses snorted. The officer of the joust stepped off the field, heading to the side of the gallery to stand with Breck and some other Royal Chargers. And Cassandra, sick with anxiety, clutched the gemstones in her fists until her knuckles turned white.
Lukien and Trager lowered themselves into riding stances. Akeela raised his hand, held it aloft for a moment, then let it fall. Lukien’s charger bolted forward. Trager raced toward him, his lance aimed. The air filled with clods of dirt and the noise of hammering hooves. The two jousters devoured the distance between them, each pointing a lance at the shielded heart of his opponent. The air sounded with the report of cracking wood. Lukien’s lance drove into Trager’s shield and Trager’s into his, and Cassandra saw her champion’s weapon buckle, sending up shards of wood. The jousters roared past each other, neither unhorsed. The crowd cheered wildly.
“Another lance!” Lukien cried. He whirled his horse around, anxiously waiting for his pages to bring him a fresh weapon and clear the debris from the ground. From the opposite end of the field, Trager waved at him
“Ha!” the lieutenant crowed. “You are clumsy this year, Captain!”
The folk in the gallery loved the banter. They shouted at the jousters, urging the combat to continue. Lukien fixed his new lance beneath his arm and spurred his horse forward with a cry. Trager matched his moves, bolting forward. This time the clash sent Trager’s lance skidding off Lukien’s shield. Again, neither man went down. Their horses came to skidding stops.
“Well done, Trager,” called Akeela. He favored the soldier with a smile. “This year you are truly worthy. Will the diamond be yours at last?”
“It is as good as won, my lord,” replied the knight. He turned to his bronze opponent. “What say you, Captain? Again?”
“Again,” replied Lukien. He raised a guantleted hand, waving Trager forward. “Now, come and get your lesson.”
Incensed, Trager crouched and drove his boots into the flanks of his mount, spurring the charger onward. Lukien joined him, racing forward. Again their lances closed, again the crowd was wide-eyed. And this time the Bronze Knight found his mark, burying his lance in Trager’s shield. Trager rose off his horse and tumbled backward, crashing into the ground. The crowd cheered. Without thinking, Cassandra jumped from her seat and joined them.
Lukien quickly brought his horse around and hovered over Trager. The lieutenant rose unsteadily to his feet.
“Well?” Lukien asked. “Are you injured?”
“Sword!” Trager cried, answering the knight’s question. A page hurried onto the field and tossed Trager his broadsword. Lukien laughed.
“Yield, Trager,” he said. He raised his lance toward Trager’s chest. “You’ve already lost.”
“No!” Trager swiped at the lance with his sword. “Come down and fight me!”
Lukien brought his horse forward, pushing the lance into Trager and knocking him over. Again the crowd crowed. Trager scurried backward in the dirt, trying get up, but each time he did Lukien’s horse took another step forward, pushing him back down.
“It is done!” cried the officer of arms. “Lukien has won.”
Still on her feet, Cassandra applauded loudly. Akeela joined her, as did the others in the gallery. Lukien dropped down from his horse and stood over Trager, then offered out his hand.
“Are you all right?”
“Get away from me!” spat Trager. His pages rushed out, helping him to his feet. When he finally righted himself, he snapped up the visor of his helm and glared at Lukien. All around them the crowds were clapping, but not for Trager.
“Both of you, come here,” called Akeela. He turned to Cassandra. “My lady, I think you have something for our knights.”
The officer came forward, escorting Lukien and the disgraced Trager to the gallery, both of whom bowed before the king and queen. Cassandra noticed how Trager kept his helmet on, a breach of etiquette, surely. He couldn’t even look at her, so strong was his shame, so she let the lapse pass.
Said the officer, “Sir Trager has jousted well, but Sir Lukien has jousted better. So to him goes the diamond.”
“Sirs,” said Akeela, “These gentle folk thank you for your great labor. Trager, since you are second best, you get this ruby.” He glanced at Cassandra, nudging her to bring out the gem. Cassandra complied, holding out the ruby for Trager, who took it reluctantly.
“Thank you, my lord and lady,” he said.
Akeela continued, “And Lukien, once again you have jousted best of all. Once again, the diamond is yours, my friend.”
Cassandra needed no encouragement this time. She held out the diamond for Lukien, placing it in his outstretched hand. But before he released her, he bent and gave her hand a kiss.
“For the honor of my queen,” he said.
That evening, the celebration continued inside the halls of Lionkeep. The ladies danced and the minstrels strummed their instruments, and children played beneath the tables with the dogs, enjoying the atmosphere fostered by the king. Festoons of flowers hung from the walls, scenting the air with lilac. Akeela sat with his new wife at a gigantic ebony table covered with platters of game birds and flagons of wine and beer. Out on the floor, Lukien was dancing with the daughter of Chancellor Nils. Cassandra watched them, frowning slightly. Akeela noticed the expression and wondered.
“You do not eat, my lady,” he said, offering her some food from his own plate. Cassandra turned her nose away.
“I’ve already eaten enough for a week.”
“Is the music too loud for you? You look uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine,” replied Cassandra. Then she smiled apologetically, adding, “It has been an exciting day, that’s all. I’m just tired.”
“Yes, exciting,” Akeela agreed. “But you don’t look well, Cassandra; your color.” He studied her, wondering why she was so white. “Perhaps you should excuse yourself, get some rest.”
She shook her head. “It’s our wedding night.”
“Cassandra,” he whispered, “I’m not going to force myself on a sick woman. If you’re not feeling well . . .”
“I’m fine.” She smiled weakly. “Really.”
Before Akeela could reply, Lukien hurried over from the dance floor. Perspiration covered his face. He took up Akeela’s goblet and drank down its contents furiously, then wiped his hand across his brow.
“Whew! That girl can dance!”
Of course,
thought Akeela blackly.
All the girls want to dance with Lukien.
thought Akeela blackly.
All the girls want to dance with Lukien.
“Sit, Lukien,” he offered. “You look about to collapse.”
“Indeed I am,” said the captain. He came around the table and fell into a chair beside Akeela. He had doffed his armor once again and now wore a crimson tunic. When a servant brought over a full pitcher of beer, Lukien took it and drank without a glass. He was in fine spirits after his victory in the joust, and wore the diamond around his neck to prove it. Trager, on the other hand, was conspicuously missing from the banquet. His lieutenant’s absence only buoyed Lukien’s mood.
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