A Kingdom's Cost, a Historical Novel of Scotland by J. R. Tomlin Read Free Book Online Page B

his lance to land a blow. It slammed into his opponent's shield and
lifted him out of the saddle. The squire landed on the ground with a crash.
    The gallery yelled and screamed their
approval as James slowed his horse to a trot. He bowed to the king and queen.
Isabella met his eyes and smiled. He thought his heart had stopped.
    Thomas Randolph rode next and easily
unhorsed his opponent. James stood letting his mount cool and sending glances
towards Isabel. Once she cut her eyes his way and smiled at him. He bowed to
cover his flush. Hopefully, she hadn't seen it. But she was watching him.
    A score more courses were run, squires
unhorsing each other one after another. James rode to tilt again against young
Walter, heir of the Stewart. The lad seemed too young for it. James unhorsed him
on their first pass. He was a cousin, and James breathed a sigh of relief when
he hopped to his feet and caught his horse's reins.
    Finally, it came down to Thomas Randolph.
    Randolph leaned forward as he rode, his
lance solid. James shifted away in his seat and Randolph's lance only grazed
his shield. James's lance shattered and Randolph rocked, tilted sideways from
the impact. He managed to right himself, and a cheer went up. James stole a
glance towards Isabel. She leaned towards the queen, saying something into her
ear.
    James tossed down his broken lance and
someone handed him a fresh one. Randolph spurred forward at a gallop. This time
James only feigned a shift. Randolph followed then tried to recover as James
straightened. His lance missed. James's own smashed into his shield with a jolt
that nearly tore his arm off. Randolph's horse went onto its haunches. A clear
miss to his hit. The match was his.
    Everyone was screaming, and James grinned. Randolph
threw his lance down, cursing. Then he shook his head and sketched a bow. James
waved to him and rode at a prancing gait around the field. Isabella clapped and
smiled. His heart thudded. The gallery shook with cheers.
    It was as good as the coronation itself. He
jumped from his horse. The king bent over the wooden rail to put a purse of
silver into his hand. The king's smile made his heart hammer. The smile from
Isabella was even better.
    Horse stabled, he dashed to the tent he
shared with half a score other squires. Thomas Randolph, red-haired and tall,
came in. With a rueful laugh, he congratulated James on his win. James shed his
heavy mail and flexed his shoulders. He'd soon be accustomed to the stuff, but
the fact was he'd never had to wear mail much, except in the practice yard or
when the bishop traveled. But now the king had gifted him with this. It was the
finest he'd ever touched.
    He'd used part of the bishop's purse to buy
a woolen tunic of the same blue as the Douglas colors. He dumped a bucket of
cold water over his head and shook, water flying. After he slicked back his
hair, he donned the new clothes.
    Twilight had faded into
darkness. The lists were quiet and abandoned as James made his way up the long
hill. His breath fogged in the chilly night air. The sound of laughter and of a
tinkling harp drifted down. Light shone through the windows. He stopped and
looked long at the stars above in the black night sky. It seemed so quiet. Eternal.
Yet everything was changing. Moving.
    Tomorrow the king would
lead his men away, James amongst them. To war. But not tonight.
    He ran up the hill, and a man-at-arms threw
open the door. Color, laughter, and ease filled the room. Two minstrels played
a tune. A dwarf leapt into the air for a flip. Bruce sat at the high table
laughing at the performer's antics, but the queen looked subdued beside him,
her eyes downcast.
    The roaring fireplace warmed the huge room.
On a staff behind the king, the great tressured banner rippled in a draft as
though the red lion would leap off into the company.
    "Jamie Douglas." Boyd slapped
James on the back. A twinge darted through his arm from nearly tearing it off
when he unhorsed Randolph. "Well fought in