The White Lord of Wellesbourne (38 page)

After the first match ended in
favor of Arundel, Lady de Russe arrived in the lists with a young, dark haired
lad who was introduced as Trenton de Russe. He seemed to be a very nice boy and
paid particular interest to Audrey, who was a year older than he. Lady de Russe
was her usual snobbish self, with barely a pleasantry before she took her seat
and found interest elsewhere.

   As the second match took
place, Alixandrea found herself interacting with Trenton and Audrey and paying
little attention to the sport.  She rather liked talking to the children, and
anything was better than watching men trying to gore one another.

By the third round, someone got
hurt. Robert Montgomery, champion of the Earl of Somerset, took a splintered
lance to the shoulder and had to be carried off the field.  The fourth round
was Dennis la Londe against de Norville and he hit the knight so hard on the
head that his helm flew off into the crowd. Knocked unconscious, de Norville
was also carried off the field.  The next round was Matthew’s.

He entered the north end of the
field astride his big gray charger, adjusting the strap that stabilized the
lance against his arm.  His opponent was the Earl of Wrexham’s son, Andrew St.
Héver, Viscount Tenbury.

 The young Viscount, quite full
of himself, entered onto the field with glorious banners cascading from his
charger, working the crowd into a frenzy.  He believed himself quite the hero
until Richard’s own herald announced Matthew. Then, the crowd burst into a
deafening roar, drowning out any illusions of popularity the young Viscount
might have entertained.

Alixandrea smiled proudly at the
reaction. People were absolutely mad for The White Lord of Wellesbourne.  Luke,
John and Mark were standing around Matthew’s charger, helping him with the
final preparations. They were not going to compete at all, instead focusing on
their brother’s matches. He was, after all, The White Lord, and his popularity
with the masses was clearly acknowledged. They had all heard the same tales
that Alixandrea had, stories where myth and truth intermingled and gave way to
a god-like being. Now he was here, their hero in the flesh, and they were crazy
for him.

The crowd began to grow restless,
waiting for the field marshal to drop the signal flag.  Alixandrea’s palms
began to sweat, waiting for what was surely to come.  Mark seemed to be having
difficulty with a strap on the charger’s plate armor and she watched, the
entire crowd watched, as Mark struggled with it. She thought she could stand
the anticipation no more when suddenly Mark succeeded, raised his arm to the
field marshal, and the man dropped the flag. In that split second, her husband
spurred his charger to the joust guide and lowered his lance.

She almost forgot her promise not
to cover her eyes. They were half way to her face before she realized it and
she abruptly threw them back in her lap.  The horses thundered towards each
other and she could hear Audrey cheering beside her. 

The crowd roared, the women
screamed, and somewhere in the middle of it was a huge crash and lances
splintering in all directions. Alixandrea jumped at the sound of snapping wood,
watching her husband reel slightly in his seat as his opponent shattered his
lance against his shield.  But Matthew remained mounted and the massive gray
charger made a wide turn at the far end and thundered down the field in front
of the frenzied fans.

He was all right. Alixandrea
swallowed hard, saying a brief prayer of thanks. She smiled at him as he made a
pass by the lists, knowing he was looking for her through his lowered visor.
She even managed a wave. But he did not acknowledge her as he went back to his
starting point where his brothers were gathered. Someone handed him a fresh
lance and they started all over again.

The Viscount went down with the
next pass.  He went flying off of his horse to the shouts of approval from the
crowd. As Matthew turned his steed around and made another run before the
wildly cheering crowd, the young Viscount stood up and staggered off the field
with the help of his men. Alixandrea clapped her approval long after her
husband left the field. She was glad she hadn’t closed her eyes or she would
have missed his magnificence. 

De Russe came after him and
literally obliterated the Earl of Leicester’s champion, John Stanhope.  Though
the man appeared seasoned and skilled, he was no match for The Dark Knight. One
pass, one strike to the helm, and they carried Stanhope off in pieces.

The morning passed into afternoon
as more matches were held. The glances themselves took little time; it was the
preparation between each one that took most of the time. The field marshals had
to remove and replace banners, count points, and other details.  Matthew roared
through his second match by unseating Artur de Soulis on the first glance. He
truly was powerful, cunning, and skilled, and Alixandrea’s fear of tournaments
began to turn into a love for them. As long as Matthew continued to win and
continued to come through unscathed, she was delighted.

But she hadn’t been keeping track
of those winning and those losing other than Matthew.  The field marshals
covered the shields of the men who were no longer competing until Matthew,
Gaston, Dennis and Caernarfon’s shields were the only ones left. Only then did
she realize that Matthew might have to go up against Gaston, and the fear that
had been forgotten now roared back with a vengeance.

“He cannot go against Gaston,”
she hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“Why not?” Caroline asked.

She looked startled that someone
had answered her. She did not want to appear as if she lacked faith in her
husband, but she had been watching Gaston all afternoon and the man was
unbeatable.

“Because… because they are
friends,” she tried to talk her way out of it. “They will not want to injure
each other.”

“Such is the love of the sport,
my lady,” Lady de Russe actually turned around and spoke to her. “They have
competed against each other before.”

“Who has won?”

“Both of them, though Gaston has
the upper hand. The last time, he broke Matthew’s shoulder. Matthew should be
in fine form today to exact his revenge if indeed they do ride against one
another.”

Lady de Russe sounded completely
unemotional or unconcerned about it. It only served to infuriate Alixandrea. 
She stood up quickly and gathered her skirts.

“Where are you going?” Caroline
asked, tugging on her sleeve.

Alixandrea did not want to tell
her the truth. She did not want to look like a fool, nor did she want Matthew’s
reputation damaged somehow by a concerned wife.

“I must find the privy,” she
lied. “I shall return.”

They let her go and she left the
lists, heading with determination for the north side of the field where her
husband was.  She was not exactly sure what she was going to say to him when
she found him, but she would surely say something. People were crowding the
area and she wove in and out of the mob, finally coming to the big gates that
separated the rabble from the competitors. There were several royal guards at
the gate. She announced herself and demanded entry.

They did not believe her at
first. Only by sheer fortune did John happen to pass by the gates and
confirmation her identity to the guards.  John ran ahead to tell Matthew of her
arrival, leaving Alixandrea alone to find her way through a field of tents, men
and servants.  She wasn’t particularly concerned for her safety until she heard
a heavily-accented voice behind her.

“Lady Alixandrea, what a
pleasure,” Dennis la Londe came upon her, his faded blue eyes narrowed and
appraising. “I have not seen you in quite some time.”

She froze, gazing up into his
handsome face and remembering everything she had been told about him. Looking
into his sharp face, she could easily believe all of it. “Sir Philip,” she
greeted. “Or should I call you Sir Dennis?”

He grinned sheepishly. “Ah, so
you have discovered the difference.”

“How could I not, sitting in the
lists and hearing a man I knew as Sir Philip announced as Dennis la Londe?”

He scratched his head. “In my
defense, I will say that many men use assumed names. It is safer sometimes,
especially in wars and politics. It means nothing, truly.”

She had little patience for him.
“I see,” she gathered her skirts again. “If you will excuse me, I must go and
find my husband.”

“’Wait,” la Londe stopped her.
“Allow me to congratulate you on your marriage to Wellesbourne. He is a fine
knight.”

“Aye, he is,” she said crisply.
“If you will excuse me, my lord.”

“Since when did your manners
become so rude?” he asked, following her. “Your uncle would be very
displeased.”

She paused again, eyeing him.
“That is none of your concern. Furthermore, I am Matthew Wellesbourne’s wife
now and answer only to him. Good day, my lord.”

She turned away from him once
more only to run headlong into Matthew. She almost smashed her nose against his
breastplate. He grasped her arms gently to steady her but when she looked up,
his focus was purely on la Londe. It was the look of a predator sighting prey.

“Has he been harassing you,
love?” Matthew asked steadily.

She shook her head, suddenly
afraid. “Nay,” she said. “Come along, Matt. I would speak with you.”

“Your wife and I are old friends,
Wellesbourne,” la Londe knew very well that he was treading on thin ice. “Did
she tell you that? I am a friend of her uncle’s.”

“She told me that she has met
you,” Matthew replied. “Friendship has nothing to do with it.”

Dennis grinned, a malevolent
gesture that sent chills of horror down Alixandrea’s spine.  She did not like
anything about the man and tugged gently on Matthew.

“Come along, darling,” she begged
softly. “Let us go.”

“In a moment,” Matthew patted her
hand. He wasn’t finished with la Londe yet. “Did you have something more you
wished to say to her? Or is your boldness only present when she is alone?”

Dennis seemed to enjoy the
challenge to his courage. “There is much that I could say to her, with or
without you at her side.  In fact, she may as well become accustomed to me, for
I may very well be a fixture in her future.”

Matthew’s gaze, his expression,
remained steady. “I cannot possibly imagine what you mean,” he said. “And if
all you have are delusions to spout, then I have no time for you.”

La Londe clucked softly. “Did you
not know that her uncle had a list of husbands for her? You are at the head of
the list and the current victor. But there are many others awaiting the
opportunity should something happen to you.” He took a step towards them and
his voice sudden dipped, low and threatening. “Were you to pass on, the lady
would return to her uncle as his ward, and all of the Wellesbourne property
with her. Did you not know that was a part of your marriage contract? Your
father does. He agreed to it because Ryesdale is such a valuable ally. He
trusts him. Therefore, it would make your wife a very wealthy widow. And very
valuable. Do you believe her uncle would allow her to remain unmarried?”

Matthew refused to react. He had
known the terms of his marital contract; he’d been advised of the entire thing
but the terms hadn’t truly occurred to him until now. When the contract had
been written, Ryesdale was indeed a valuable ally. But they’d clearly
established recently that he was not.  Matthew was greatly disturbed to know
that la Londe was aware of the private details of things that did not concern
him.

“Surely you have a point to all
of this,” he said, making a very good show of being indifferent.

Dennis shrugged lightly, crossing
his arms. He was rather surprised, and disappointed, that Wellesbourne had not
reacted. “The point is that if you pass, I am next on the list. ‘Twill be me
with the Wellesbourne riches
and
your wife. And, I must say, you will
pass her into eager arms.”

Beneath her hands, Alixandrea
felt Matthew tense. She was terrified that he was going to charge la Londe and
there was no way she could stop him. She squeezed, tugging him away from Dennis.

“I have a great need to speak
with you, husband,” she pulled harder. “Please come with me. This cannot wait.”

Matthew wanted nothing more than
to pull Dennis apart with his bare hands. He really did. But he wasn’t so
blinded by hatred that he did not hear Alixandrea’s soft pleas.  He allowed her
to remove him from the confrontation that la Londe was trying so hard to
create, knowing it was for the best but wishing it wasn’t.

“A
u revoir, la belle fille
,”
La Londe called after her. “Until we meet again.”

“Please, walk with me,”
Alixandrea got a good grip on her husband and they moved further and further
away. “Let us walk and calm ourselves.”

“I am perfectly calm,” Matthew
said. “But I would like to know what you are doing here.”

She shifted her hands so that one
was on his elbow while the other wound tightly around his gloved fingers. “I
came to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“About…,” She slowed her pace,
suddenly ashamed. It seemed so foolish now. “I… I came to tell you that you
have been magnificent. I loved watching you.”