The Fallen One (14 page)

    
“Watch
out for his tactics.”

    
“I
intend to.”

    
“And
do not lose St. Hèver’s horse. He will murder you.”

    
Beneath
his lowered visor, Mathias wriggled his eyebrows in agreement. That was an
understatement.

    
The
field marshals made the call for ready and Sebastian scattered as Mathias moved
his horse into position.
 
The pole went
down, into the cradle position as it was called, and the marshals dropped their
flags.
 
The game was on.

    
Mathias
kept his eye on Tate as their steeds thundered toward each other.
 
He had blocked out the crowd and everything
else, focused on his opponent.
 
More
thunder and the distance closed swiftly.
 
Tate brought the tip of his pole up, right at Mathias’ neck, but Mathias
was fast.
 
He shifted in the seat so the
pole brushed past him while at the same time, he aimed for de Lara’s big
head.
 
Rather that spear the man head-on,
he turned it so the broadside of it hit de Lara right in the forehead.
 

    
The
earl teetered but he didn’t go down.
 
He
did, however, drop his pole, which was considered a victory for Mathias.
 
The crowd, seeing that perhaps this unknown
de Lovern was indeed as worthy contender, cheered the man for his small
victory.
 
Mathias, without a scratch,
headed back to the starting point. Sebastian was there to meet him.

    
“He
will be out for blood now,” Sebastian said, a grin on his face. “You made a
brilliant move.”

    
Mathias
handed the joust pole to his brother while he flipped up his visor and re-adjusted
his gloves.
 
“He is going to aim for my
head the next time. I will need to be vigilant or he will push me right off the
horse.”

    
Sebastian
was still grinning. “How does it feel?”

    
Mathias
looked at him. “What do you mean?”

    
“The
tournament,” he said, his voice softening. “How does it feel to be back?”

    
The
corner of Mathias’ mouth twitched. “Like I never left,” he said. “Where is
Father?”

    
Sebastian
looked over his shoulder towards the crowd. “He is here, watching. He is
terrified for you.”

    
Mathias
snorted. “Mayhap; but at this moment he is as excited as we are, I promise you.”

    
Sebastian
chuckled, handing the joust pole back to his brother. As the field marshals
called for the opponents to take position, Mathias slapped his visor down and
spurred the charger to the start position.
 
The flags were dropped and the destriers lurched forward.

    
Sebastian
had been correct; Tate aimed for Mathias’ head but it didn’t come until the
last second.
 
Mathias had to move out of
the way quickly to avoid being unseated and in doing so, ended up hitting Tate
squarely in the chest.
 
The wooden
support of the joust pole splintered, sending shards flying into Tate.
  
It wasn’t until the earl reined his charger
to a halt at the end of the guide that he realized two big shards had punctured
him; one in the hip and one in the shoulder.
  
They were embedded fairly deep, deeply enough so that he had to be
helped from his charger.
 

    
As
Mathias and the crowd await the verdict on whether or not Tate could continue,
it took both the physic and Lady de Lara to convince Tate to forfeit the
match.
 
The projectile embedded in his
hip was causing a great deal of bleeding and Lady de Lara was very distressed
about it.
 
Reluctantly, the Earl of
Carlisle conceded his match to Chayson de Lovern.

    
The
crowd, sensing that perhaps they had a people’s champion in de Lovern, began to
cheer him madly as he made his way off the field.
 
But before Mathias left completely, he turned
towards the lists where Cathlina was leaning on the rail.

    
Cathlina
saw him coming; she’d been at the rail since the bout had started, her heart in
her throat at the two violent passes that Tate and Mathias had made against
each other.
 
She was only now starting to
breathe easy, easier still when she saw Mathias heading in her direction.
  
In fact, her heart began to beat madly and
her palms began to sweat, so very thrilled that he was about to acknowledge
her.
 
But that was before her father came
to stand next to her, scrutinizing the man who had forced his cousin to
withdraw.
 
Her excitement took a pause.

    
“Who
is that knight?” he demanded.
 

    
Cathlina
looked at her father. “His name is Chayson de Lovern.”

    
Saer
scowled. “I know his name,” he said. “What I want to know is who he is. Where
does he come from? And why did he ask you for your favor?”

    
Cathlina
patted her father patiently on the shoulder. “Father, do not work yourself into
a fit,” she said. “He was very polite to me. He seems to be rather skilled,
don’t you think?”

    
Saer
pursed his lips irritably. “Either he is very skilled or suffers the blessing
of blind luck to oust Tate de Lara from the first round,” he grumbled, turning
away from the rail. “I will go and see how my cousin fares.”

    
Cathlina
continued to pat him on the shoulder even as he walked away. Frankly, she was
thrilled he was leaving. “Make sure he is well tended, Papa,” she called after
him. “Stay with him if you must.”

    
Saer
acknowledged her with a wave, muttering something more to his wife as he left
the stands.
 
Meanwhile, Cathlina had
returned her attention to Mathias, who had resumed his quick pace towards her.
 
He had paused when he saw Saer, waiting to
see which direction the man would take. As his charger, sweaty and foaming,
bumped up against the railing, he flipped up his visor.

    
“How
was that?” he asked. “Did you enjoy it?”

    
Cathlina
beamed. “You are very skilled. Most impressive.”

    
His
dark brows lifted. “It was unfortunate the lance splintered,” he said. “I was
looking forward to confiscating de Lara’s horse.”

    
Cathlina
giggled.
 
“Mayhap next time.”

    
He
shrugged. “Mayhap,” he said, looking around. “Have you eaten yet?”

    
Cathlina
shook her head. “Not yet. I have been busy watching men joust.”

    
He
looked at her, then. “Would you be willing to sneak away from your father yet
again and join me for a meal?”

    
Cathlina
knew her mother and sisters were behind her, but they were mostly occupied
watching Tate and Toby’s children because Lady de Lara was with her injured
husband.
 

    
“My
father has gone to see how Cousin Tate fares,” she said quietly. “I believe I
could steal a few moments away from my mother. Where shall I meet you?”

    
“At
the entrance to the lists.”

    
“I
shall be there.”

    
Winking
at her, Mathias shut his visor and cantered back across the field, exiting it
to the north.
 
Cathlina returned to her
seat, watching her sisters play with the twins and the two year old baby girl,
Sophie.
 
Abechail seemed particularly
enthralled by the baby, which was good to see. Abechail was in bed so much of
the time that it was good to see her excited about something.

    
Cathlina
sat next to her mother a nominal amount of time before making her move to
leave. She didn’t want to seem suspicious, as if she was running off with a
clandestine purpose, so she sat tight, making small talk, until very casually,
she yawned.

    
“Mam,
I must find the privy,” she said, rising to her feet.
 
“I want to be back before Dunstan’s round.”

    
Rosalund
had the baby in her arms. “Take Abbie with you.”

    
Cathlina
struggled not to throw a tantrum. “Abbie does not need to go,” she said,
looking to her little sister on the floor.
 
“Do you, Abbie?”

    
Abechail
couldn’t figure out why her sister was giving her such a strange, nearly
intimidating, expression.
 
She looked
between her mother sister. “Aye, I will go,” she said, struggling to her feet.
“I need to use the privy also.”

    
Cathlina
rolled her eyes and looked and looked at her mother. “I do not want to take her,”
she said flatly. “The last time I was left in charge of Abbie, something
terrible happened and I could not bear to go through that again. Please do not
make me take her. I am afraid.”

    
Rosalund
understood somewhat but she thought that Cathlina was being ridiculous. “Do not
be so silly,” she scolded. “Take your sister with you and return shortly.”

    
Cathlina
shook her head; she was already scooted down the stairs. “I will not,” she
declared. “I will go alone and be back shortly. If Abbie needs to go, then Roxane
can take her. I do not want to!”

    
With
that, she was gone before her mother could argue with her.
 
She knew that she would be in for a scolding
when she returned but she didn’t care; she wanted to see Mathias and couldn’t
do it with her baby sister hanging about. There was romance in the air, her
very first beaux, and she was giddy and reckless.

    
Fortunately,
she didn’t have far to go.
 
As soon as
she bolted out of the entrance, an enormous hand reached out to grab her.
 
She gasped with fright until she saw who it
was; deep green eyes twinkled back at her.

    
“What
took you so long?” he asked. “I nearly died of anticipation.”

    
Cathlina
giggled. “You look healthy enough,” she said. “Besides, I had to escape my
mother. I cannot be too long or she will start to worry.”

    
“Ah,”
he said, taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his elbow. “Since we
have so little time, what would you like to eat? Something sweet and
fattening?”

    
Cathlina
relished the feel of him; his enormous body was warm against her, his fingers
clutching hers as they headed down the avenue.
 
She was walking on clouds, thrilled and happy to be with him. “You
choose.”

    
“Do
you trust me to?”

    
“I
do.”

    
He
grinned as he led her down the avenue, feeling as prideful as a peacock with
her on his arm. She was radiant and beautiful, and he felt extremely
fortunate.
 
The streets were crowded with
people who had come to town to see the tournament and they dodged groups of
women and children as they headed to the food vendors.
 
Already, the smells of roasted meat and
baking breads assaulted their nostrils as they entered the area with vendors
shouting the culinary virtues of their dishes.

    
There
was a man selling mutton in a honey and cinnamon sauce, all served up on great
slabs of toasted brown bread.
 
Mathias
purchased a slab for Cathlina and a slab for himself, taking her to the steps
of a nearby cottage where they sat down on the stone steps and delved into
their meal. Cathlina picked at the meal while Mathias shoveled, but all the
while, their focus was on each other.

    
“Are
you staying in town tonight?” he asked her as he slurped up the sauce.

    
She
nodded, nibbling on the big hunk of bread. “We brought our travel bedding and
our shelters,” she said. “We set them up on the edge of town next to Cousin
Tate’s encampment.”

    
He
nodded as he shoved a big bite in his mouth. “Then this is quite an adventure
for you.”

    
She
grinned as she licked her fingers. “It is,” she agreed. “We rarely travel from
Kirklinton, mostly because Mother does not like to travel. Oh, she pretends
that it is father’s issue and that he does not like his children exposed to the
wicked world, but we know it is Mother. She tells my father that there are
wicked people about. Why, when Abechail was nearly abducted, it only reinforced
her stance. She was none too excited about us coming to town for the
tournament, but Father had promised Abbie so he could not very well refuse
her.”