horse's body was properly secured beneath the armored
tack, he wondered if he shouldn't attempt to ascertain more about the young
maid who had captured Bose's eye. The further his lord denied such interest,
the more Tate knew the fair lady had indeed succeeded in snaring the man's
attention.
The silver peals of the trumpet
could be heard, calling all spectators to the lodges and announcing to the
competitors that the event was about to commence. Forcing thoughts of Bose's
lady aside for the moment, Tate straightened the decorative plume atop his helm
and reined his charger toward the arena, his excitement mounting. He knew that
Bose's remaining two knights would already be at the field, awaiting his
company. And with all of the houses preparing to combat in honor of Lance du
Bonne, the day would prove to be exciting and profitable.
Tate looked forward to certain
victory. With Bose de Moray on his team, there was no question.
***
Colorful knights of every house
were lining up on opposite sides of the tournament field, emblazoned with
standards and fancy armor and brilliantly-colored lances. Seated between Genisa
and her father, Summer was overwhelmed with the sight and spectacle before her.
Never in her life had she seen so many knights, all lavishly dressed as if they
were preparing to attend a feast rather than a battle.
Magnificent shields were lodged
over the left knee of each knight, position for ease and access. War implements
crowded the armored saddles; swords, axes, maces, flails and war hammers
gleamed wickedly under the brilliant afternoon sun. The horses themselves were
covered with beautiful banners embossed with the colors of their knight and, in
some cases, his crest.
As two teams prepared for the
coming melee, Summer scrutinized every knight who happened to thunder past the
lodges, or every warrior who seemed to be gaining a bit of practice before the
competition began. She was wide-eyed with wonder.
"Do you see that your
father's heralds have divided the knights into two teams?" Genisa was
saying. "The two teams will charge one another and fight until only one
man is left. That is why they call it the melee."
"It is quite a brutal
spectacle, Summer," Edward's high-pitched voice was an annoying buzz over
the excitement of the crowd. "Certainly, there are codes the knights must
adhere to; they must not intentionally try to kill their opponent, and they
must not strike a man when he is down. Once a knight is off his horse, he is
out of the competition. The object, of course, is to remain mounted and try to
keep your head on in the process."
Summer knew all that; she had
heard her brothers explain tournament rules a thousand times. On her other
side, Genisa piped up again.
"The team that loses becomes
the prisoners of the victors and must pay them ransom," she said.
"That is how the knights make their money."
"Or lose it," Summer
responded dryly.
Genisa giggled, nodded.
"Stephan lost a good deal last year at the tournament in Swindon. Not only
was he on the losing team in the melee, but he lost to Bose de Moray in the
joust as well. He was so angry with the money he lost that he cursed de Moray
for an entire week."
Summer smiled, her thoughts once
again turning to the mysterious knight who had saved her from her brothers'
foolery. Glancing to the east side of the field, her golden eyes searched for the
black and white standard she knew to be de Moray's. But there was no black and
white on that team, only innumerable brilliantly sewn hues, including those of
the du Bonne red and white.
Shifting her attention then to
the west side of the arena, the distinctive black and white standard of the
House of de Moray was evident. An odd, fluid warmth pulsed through her veins as
she drew deep the sight of the striking banners; with all of the scrutinizing
she had been doing of every man and beast within the confines of the field, she
wondered how she could have missed the de Moray colors.
It began to
Back in the Saddle (v5.0)