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Chronicle II, Chapter 3 The Joust By William Black Sir Lawrence's Arabian danced with anticipation. Not normally used as a war-horse, the knight had chosen it for speed, flexibility, and endurance. Lawrence counted on quick strikes and skill to win the day. He lowered his visor and trotted over to his squire for his lance. His Lady Diana's ribbon decorated its tip. Surly he would win honor for her. How could he loose, he chuckled to himself. He looked for her in the stands and found her standing next to Lady Ann up in Morion's box. He smiled at the thought that she had come up in the world. Not just a shy servant girl any longer, but a beautiful woman in attendance to her Mistress. She waved gaily at him, her eyes sparkling with love. He responded with a dip of his lance. As Lawrence made his way to the end of the list, his opponent was getting ready. Gardain's mount was huge and appeared to be a draft horse. Though it was beautiful, its body was rather bulky for such a contest. Gardain walked his horse over to the squire waiting with the lance. The knight appeared to say something to the lad before reaching out and accepting his weapon. The squire looked at his master with fear and went to their tent to wait the outcome of this first contest. Gardain walked his horse the opposite end of the list, taking his time, as if this first joust was more of a waste of time than a real competition. Morion looked at Morgan, but her friend's eyes were intent on the challenger. What did she see? What was she looking for? Morion's thoughts were interrupted by the blare of trumpets. The signal for the combatants to get ready for their first joust. Silence fell on the crowd as their expectancy grew. All bets were closed. Now was the time to see just how good Sir Gardain of Damtree was. And how well prepared they were for warfare. A judge ran onto the field with his arm raised. At his signal, the opponents would charge one another, each hoping to unseat the other. The signal came quickly. Each knight spurred his horses forward. Sir Lawrence lowered his lance, aiming squarely at Gardain's chest. His horse was fast and carried him hurtling towards his enemy. Gardain too had lowered his lance. The thunder of hooves striking the ground sent shivers of expectation into the spectators. Just as Lawrence was about to strike, Sir Gardain's shield and lance shifted. Lawrence's lance glanced off of Gardain's shield with a loud clang. Gardain just guided his mount on past hardly moving within his saddle. The crowds cheered and breathed a sigh of relief. Their knight was still seated. Unfortunately, so was Gardain. The knights came around for their second pass. This time Gardain sent his mount thundering down the field at Sir Lawrence. The black war-horse seemed possessed. Its speed belied its size. The young knight barely had time to position his shield, before the two collided in a resounding crash. Sir Lawrence was struck and lifted high out of his saddle. The crowd gasp in horror as the young knight flew through the air like a rag doll thrown by a spoiled child. He hit the ground with bone cracking force. Morion and Diana were on their feet as were all the people in the stands. Morion's physicians went out to check on the stricken knight. He lay motionless before them. They gingerly removed his helmet. Blood seeped from his nose and mouth. Morion looked down at her fallen knight wishing she could help. Morgan looked around to find where her lover was. She finally found him standing with his fellow knights near the entrance to the field. She noticed that his face was flush with anger. She knew what he was thinking. This night would not be good. She decided to stay away. Ann would surly put her up for one evening. "Get a litter. This man needs immediate attention," came the cry from Morion's physicians. Squires rushed to do the bidding of the doctors. Soon Lawrence was removed from the field and to a tent where care could be given him. Gardain dismounted and walked his horse to the other side of the list. He waited patiently for the next knight to take the field. It didn't matter that he could feel the hatred of the people in the crowds. Once this was over, they would hate him more. But also fear him and his master. Yes, their feelings were no concern of his. He watched as they removed Sir Lawrence from the grounds. Well, one less knight to worry about, he thought with a sinister grin crossing his face. The next knight was Sir Gweyn. A seasoned warrior and skilled in all manner of combat. He wore his wife's color of lavender, a kerchief tucked under his left shoulder plate. His armor was white with a golden falcon emblazoned on the front. The same symbol graced his shield. His mount was an energetic roan, which pranced to the end of the list with confidence. Gweyn lowered his visor and accepted a lance from his squire. Now, Sir Gardain, we shall see how good you really are, thought the older knight. Gardain had taken his position at the other end of the field. He had not put down his lance, but kept it in hand at all times during the break. The judge appeared and gave the signal for the combatants to engage. Both knights raced at each other, lowering their lances to strike. This time both lances found were slightly of their marks. The crunching sound was horrendous, but both knights stated mounted. Sir Gweyn tittered dangerously in his saddle, his lance shattered by the impact. Gardain trotted back to the other end of the list. He waited patiently for Gweyn to get a new lance. Gweyn guided his mount to the list and waited for the judge's signal. The judge dropped his hand and the two knights were once again careening towards each other. For some reason Gardain swerved at the last moment letting Gweyn fly by him without so much as touching lance to shield. Both men wheeled their horses around quickly, not waiting for the judge to give a signal. Again they charged at one another, and again lance met shield. The sound of the collision made the spectators winch. The pain the knights must be feeling had to be tremendous. However, both men stayed mounted. Once again they turned to face one another, and spurred their mounts to rush headlong down the list. Gardain's lance was posed to strike, but before it hit Gweyn, the older knight seemed to loose balance. He fell from his horse, his spur catching in the stirrup. His roan, confused at loosing his rider, twisted and tried to jump the barrier. Gweyn screamed in agony as his leg scraped the rough surface of the wood. His hip made a loud pop as the force of the pull dislocated it. The horse stumbled and fell, its own front legs breaking at the knees. Its scream was terrifying as it fought against the pain. Guards and squires rushed out to help. Sir Gweyn writhed in pain as the doctors arrived to see to his injuries. A kind-hearted guard went over to the fallen horse and put it out of its misery. Gardain again walked his horse to the opposite end of the field. He paid no attention to the commotion that the injured man was causing. He wondered what was going through Morion's mind just now. Fury? Humiliation? Doubt? Probably all three and many more. He smiled to himself, and the day was not even half over. A litter was brought to take Gweyn away. The tent of healing now had two occupants. How many more would it see this day? She looked to her friends. Morgan placed her hand on Morion's. They both worried. Sir David had not been there for Sir Lawrence's defeat. He had gone with Tactus to see about the demon. But both the creature and the tent were gone by the time the patrol arrived. There were signs that something had been there, but just what was anyone's guess. Though they had the word of Morgan and Ann, which was good enough for them. "My Lady," David began, "I think we should call this tournament off. The coincidence of the demon sighting and Gardain's challenge are too obvious. Evil is stirring and we're being set up." "Sir, we made a promise by signing that damn contract. Do you really suppose I will back out now? Only two of our knights are defeated. We have many more willing to take up this challenge." But Morion looked worried. Ten other knights challenged Gardain, and many more wanted to. However, the day continued on as it had started. Knight after knight fell to Sir Gardain. Each one suffering injuries, some more serious than others, but all bad enough to keep the knights out of commission for some time. The crowd began their day in hope, then their emotions turned to anger, and finally to despair. It seemed that the claims of Lord Banon and Sir Gardain were true. Those who wagered great sums of money worried how they were to recover from such financial loss. The more hard-bitten of them started to mutter words against Morion herself. "Who is the real protector here. Obviously it is only the magic! So why do we pay tribute to her for the upkeep of these poor excuses for knights?" The evening light began to wan, so the heralds blew the trumpets marking the end of this round of jousting. Tomorrow would be a new day, with a new story to tell hopefully. Morion and her councilors sat at dinner that evening, preferring each other's company to the festivities outside the palace. Festivities? That was a joke. What should be a joyous tournament, had turned into a grand scale humiliation for the Realm of the Dark Crystal. Twelve knights, all highly skilled warriors, had fallen to Sir Gardain. A bloody single knight. Morion could not believe what was happening; though her friends started to have their own doubts. Sir David stood up to comfort his comrades. "We are not defeated. The more seasoned of us will meet Gardain tomorrow. The dawn will bring a different tale. A tale of victory. So let's eat and make marry, for tomorrow we will not die!" "Why don't you just shut-up, you big puss-head! What a bunch of crap." Sir Robert, taking comfort in the dinner wine, was drunk. "You know tomorrow won't be any different than today," he stammered. "All our puny little brats-for-knights believe that without magic they are nothing. So they fall one-by-one." To emphasize the point, Robert tipped over one glass then another. "Honey, don't. Your drunk." Morgan tried to settle her lover down. He wheeled on her with vengeance. "Don't tell me what to do, you little witch! You probably fancy Gardain. You always did like winners. Well, I will win tomorrow. Then see who's bed you're in!" At this he let out a burst of laughter, "Oh, I forgot, you are in my bed!!!" The drunken knight staggered to his feet, but continued to confront Morgan. "I'll win. Do you know I can have any woman in the realm that I choose? You are not the only one who attracts the opposite sex." "Sir Robert, I order you to sit down and be quite." Morion's voice was commanding, and normally Robert would instantly heed it, but not this night. "Please Robert, sit down. Have some dinner." Morgan's anger was rising, but she loved her mate and had forgiven much in the past. She would forgive this too. "Then I'll take you to bed. You need to rest before tomorrow's challenge." "Yes, bed would be nice." A strange look came over his face. He then bent down and gave Morgan a big sloppy kiss on the mouth. He felt her struggle and flinch against it, but this just made him more determined. "Stop it, Robert. Please!" She said trying to keep her lips away from his. The wizard tried to intervene but Robert shoved him away roughly. The wizen old man hit the floor with a thud. Morgan could take no more. She slapped her lover as hard as she could, imprinting an image of her hand against his cheek. His eyes narrowed in rage, but before he could strike back, David pinned his arms behind him. "That will be enough, Robert ol' boy. I think you will spend tonight in the company of the palace warden. Come with me, my friend." He led Robert out of the dinning hall, and to the warden. "Take charge of him. Make sure he is sober by morning." "Yes, sir," said the warden as he took Robert to a holding cell. David rejoined the others and found them more grave than ever. "All right, so we have a problem. Let's not make it bigger than it is. Our knights are not finished yet." "A lot of good Robert will be tomorrow," the wizard commented. "He'll have such a hangover that he won't be able to see straight." "Maybe that will help him," Ann said trying to be funny. Her humor was lost on them. "I say we call this tournament off now, before any other fine knights fall to this demon." The wizard looked at Morion. "We really can't go on like this." "I know," she said, then in a quieter voice, "I know." She sat with her fingers templed together, her index fingers pressed against her lips. "Morgan," she started, "are you sure there is no magic in this fellow? I mean, could he be causing them a lack of confidence by some means besides the obvious?" "The obvious, my Lady? You mean, beside the fact that they don't have the presence of magic to help them? "Yes." "No, my Lady. Gardain is not using any form of magic I am familiar with. He is highly skilled, very confident, well trained, and rather well practiced." "You sound as if you admire the bugger." Sir David said accusatorily. "Did Sir Robert guess the truth? Do you admire the champion of Damtree?" Morion took offense, "Nonsense, I too admit Gardain is all these things and more, but I do not fancy him. No, I cannot even say I admire him or his skills." Then turning to Morgan, she said, "I want you to keep a close eye on Gardain's Squire. The boy appears horrified of his master. Find out why." Morgan nodded to her sovereign, then got up to go outside. "Ann, would you join me?" She then walked out a side door into the cool night air. Crickets sang to their partners, hoping for a mating. Some said keeping crickets around was good luck. She smiled to herself. Sir William once gave her a live cricket in a miniature cage. It was a gift to keep her company while he was away on a quest. He didn't know about Robert at that time. She had little reason to tell him. Robert could be rather distant sometimes, which hurt her terribly. And Morgan found she really did love both men. Ann watched her friend go, then bowed to Morion and the rest, and turned to follow. "Ann?" Morion walked up to her; "you may want to stay with Morgan tonight. I think she could use the company." Ann smiled at her Lady, then walked out of the hall to find her friend. Morion then turned on David. "How dare you play the devil's advocate. Don't you dare do it again. Morgan is above reproach and I will not have her good character besmirched by you or anyone else." Morion's rage was barely under control, "Do you understand?" she hissed. "Yes, my Lady. I will make my apologies to her." With this, David bowed respectfully and went out into the night. William Black © Continues... Chronicle II, Main page |