Page 26 of An Ill-Made Match

“It’s probably your hair,” tutted Gunnilde. “Father keeps telling you to get it cut.”

Eden winced as the shields and lances met in a loud splintering and a dust cloud went up from the horse’s hooves. Her eyes blinked at the ensuing confusion. “Is he down?” she muttered, her eyes scanning the chaotic scene. Then she spied Roland’s horse, and it was rider-less. “Oh!” she covered her mouth.

“His horse has trampled him!” squeaked Gunnilde in dismay.

Eden gasped, seeing Roland’s prone form lying under his horse. A few of the previously unseated knights were darting forward, ready to pounce on him, but Bavol tossed his head and lunged at anyone who approached, snapping his teeth together as if he would bite. “Nay, wait,” said Eden. “I think he is protecting his master.”

Hal whistled. “I believe you’re right. That’s one good beast.”

“What is his name?” said Gunnilde, clapping her hands together.

“Bavol,” Eden told her, grateful she knew at least one piece of Vawdrey trivia.

“Most noble steed!” choked Gunnilde, dabbing at her eyes again.

Eden watched Roland roll onto his side, and then swiftly climb to his feet. He paused a moment to pat Bavol’s neck and then drew his sword. Slapping his horse on the rump, he dispatched him to the edge of the field. She watched him roll his shoulders as if testing for injury, as two knights on foot simultaneously charged him. He beat their attacks aside as effortlessly as if he were swatting mere flies. Then, suddenly, they fell back and were re-forming their ranks again as the last remaining mounted knights wheeled their horses about. Eden watched Roland gesturing with his hands as he spoke to his allies. “Is that his friend?” she muttered aloud, as one clapped him on the shoulder. She was speaking to herself in truth, as it was unlikely that her companions would even know.

“The yellow stag?” asked Hal, withdrawing a list from his belt and unfurling it. “Sir Edward Bevan of Knollesley,” he read aloud.

Eden nodded. “That is he.” At least he was among friends, though she would rather he was still on horseback than in the midst of the fray.

“They’re about to come around again,” said Gunnilde, bouncing in her seat.

Eden felt a sense of dread as the horses charged. Roland looked perilously prominent to her eye and positioned too far forward. Suddenly, she realized he was poised to spring and to her disbelieving eye, she watched him, leap up and drag Lord Kentigern from his saddle. “He’s mad!” she uttered faintly, as Hal yelled and cheered in her ear.

“Not for nothing is he the King’s champion!” the boy whooped, leaping out of his seat.

Lord Kentigern came crashing down like a lead weight, and the two of them rolled around in the dust as Kentigern’s massive horse reared and plunged like a crazed thing, eyes rolling with fear. Sir Ned Bevan ran forward and caught it by the head, pulling it away with dogged determination.

“Oh that was well done indeed!” marveled Gunnilde. “What did you say his name was Hal?”

“Bevan, Sir Edward Bevan,” her brother replied, sinking back down onto the bench.

Eden was sat ramrod straight, her hands clenched so hard together she had lost all sensation in her fingers. Roland sprang to his feet, and drew his sword, waiting as Lord Kentigern staggered about, shaking his head jerkily as if to clear it.

“That grotesque helmet surely does not help?” murmured Gunnilde. “Why, it has probably turned from back to front and he cannot see!“

“Good!” fired back Eden, surprising herself along with her friend. “Why does he not attack him now? While he is incapacitated?”

“Because he is the King’s champion perhaps?” suggested Gunnilde, looking taken aback. “It would hardly seem chivalrous…”

“Chivalrous?” blurted Eden hotly. “How is any of this remotely chivalrous? Just strike him!” she shouted furiously, leaping out of her seat. “What are you waiting for?” As if he had heard her anguished cry, Eden watched Roland’s helmet snap up to look in her direction. She drew a ragged breath. Surely he had not heard her? Clapping her palms to her over-heated cheeks, she dropped self-consciously back down into her seat.

Hal chuckled, but Eden did not have the chance to feel any more embarrassed as a terrific clanging of blades could now be heard above the clamor. She re-focused on the fighting and found Roland and Lord Kentigern were now trading blows with their broad-swords. In her opinion Roland should have forced his advantage while he still had it. Lord Kentigern looked to wield a freakish strength. Even though Roland was giving as good as he got, who knew how long he could keep this terrible pace up?

“The knights are coming back around!” yelled Hal excitedly.

Eden felt sick to her stomach as she looked from the two combatants, to the charging horses. How could they be oblivious to the fact they were about to mowed down by a mass of horses’ hooves? She closed her eyes. The crowd bayed and Eden felt herself go hot, then cold all over. Feeling her hand squeezed tight, she realized Gunnilde had hold of her nerveless fingers.

“All is not lost,” her friend was assuring her. “Look. They still stand.”

Eden blinked as the dust settled. By some miracle, their two figures were still stood, swords swinging, oblivious to the fact there was now only one knight left astride his horse. A bugle sounded. A cheer went up from the crowd.

“Wait - what is happening now?” asked Eden urgently.

“The melee is over,” explained Gunnilde. “See?” she pointed. “Only one knight remains unseated.”

Eden spared a glance at the knight with his arm raised in triumph. “But, who is going to tell them?” she asked impatiently, as Roland and Kentigern continued locked in their private battle.