The Champion by Elizabeth Chadwick Read Free Book Online Page A

he had snatched her away.
    ‘Come the autumn, I will try to find a permanent position in a lord’s retinue,’ he replied. ‘There is bound to be someone in need of hearth knights with Richard in prison and Philip of France free to wreak his worst.’
    ‘You will have to do more than try this year,’ she said quietly.
    Her tone sent a ripple of apprehension down his spine. ‘Clemence?’
    She guided his hand down over her body, to the gentle curve of her belly. ‘I am with child again; for three months I have not bled.’
    He felt the soft flesh beneath his palm, but could not discern if it was any more abundant than usual. The early nights of winter, the dark mornings, meant that he had seldom seen Clemence naked over the past few months. All conversation, all lovemaking had been conducted in the dark. ‘But that’s imposs—’ he started to say, then closed his mouth, remembering the time he had left it to the last moment to withdraw, the seed spurting from his body as he jerked out of the passage to her womb.
    ‘Are you sure?’ It was a stupid question. Of course she was sure. The worry, the keeping it to herself was the reason for her sharp tongue. ‘Ah, God, Clemence.’ He freed his hand from hers and slipped it around her body, offering comfort, seeking it himself while he made a swift calculation. It was late April now, almost the feast of St Mark. By Martinmas, in November, he would be responsible for another mouth to feed. Fear assaulted him in a sweeping, physical wave. Clemence had almost died bearing Monday, her hips too narrow to comfortably accommodate the baby’s head. Old Mildred sold potions to the camp whores whose fluxes came late, but their efficacy was as dubious as their contents, and he knew that Clemence would utterly refuse to dose herself. He could not bear the thought of losing her – she was all that he had – and cold sweat broke out on his brow.
    ‘I will seek early for winter quarters,’ he agreed huskily.
    Clemence nodded against his chest. ‘I wish I had told you sooner, but I did not want to burden you until I was sure.’ Her voice was small and muffled against the bulk of his body.
    ‘You should have done.’ He squeezed her against him, kissed her in reassurance, and thanked God for the darkness that concealed his expression, even as earlier he had been longing for the light.

C HAPTER 4
     
    The tournament was to be held over an agreed area of three large fields, its boundaries set by the stream that supplied the camp on the northern and western edges, by a small wood to the south and by an abandoned hermitage to the east. No fighting was to take place beyond these markers. Anyone invading the nearby village to fight was to be disqualified immediately.
    An enclosure of withy screens had been erected close to the centre of the first field where the fighters could claim sanctuary if they were in difficulty or needed to take a respite. It was here that Hervi brought Alexander as the morning sun climbed in the sky and the knights on the two sides began to warm up with practice charges and turns. Weapons glittered; banter was exchanged, both the pleasant and the aggressive.
    ‘You should be able to see the combat from here,’ Hervi said as Alexander entered the enclosure. ‘Remember to be ready with my spare lance and shield if I signal to you.’
    Alexander nodded, squinting up at Hervi astride the dun stallion. The older man held Soleil on a tight rein, the tawny head tucked into the deep chest. A solid jousting helm hung from a thong on the saddle and the blue and gold shield was slung out of the way across Hervi’s broad back. The spare shield weighed down Alexander’s left arm, and his right hand curved around the haft of a blunted spear. A water bottle was slung across his shoulder and in his pouch there were two honey cakes. Other attendants, similarly equipped, were arriving at the enclosure.
    ‘How will you know friend from foe?’
    ‘Easy,’ Hervi replied.