Page 108 of An Inconvenient Vow

It was at that point that Sabina noticed the rest of the stands were jumping up down with excitement, and the air closer to the arena was rent with shouts and bawls of encouragement as the two knights threw punches at each other. As they had only paused to tear off the bits of armor that hampered them, their fight seemed slow and unnecessarily jarring to Sabina. She almost fancied she could hear the crunch and clang of metal even above all the noise.

Sabina winced and again glanced about at the disinterested nobles around her. Lawrence seemed to pick up on her confusion. “The joust is the event the court cares most about,” he explained. “That is the one with the most prestige attached to it.”

“Oh.” Sabina nodded as enlightenment dawned. “I see.” Finally, two officials managed to insert themselves between Jeffree and his quarry. Naturally, being Jeffree, he accepted neither their interruption nor their authority to do so with any grace. To be fair to him, Sabina acknowledged the other knight took it just as ill, for he immediately flung himself out of the arena in a high dudgeon.

As for Jeffree, he dragged his helmet off his head and started yelling at the officials in an excess of thwarted passion. Sabina fought a terrible impulse to laugh. He looked so incredibly angry with his face all streaked with dirt and his golden hair dark with sweat and plastered to his head. It was strange that none of these things served in any way to detract from his good looks, she reflected as he gestured furiously between both officials.

No wonder the crowd was incensed their sport had been cut off. They started booing loudly, and to Sabina at least, it seemed obvious it was the officials they were mad at, for preventing the fisticuffs.

“Who is that?” one of the older ladies sat behind Sabina wondered aloud. “He is exceedingly good-looking, is he not?”

Yes, he is, thought Sabina. The most handsome man in all Karadok and the most absurd.

“’Tis Sir Jeffree de Crecy,” came the reply by a younger sounding voice. Sabina wondered if it was the lovely Lady Kentigern who spoke now. She sounded very disapproving, whoever she was. “In my opinion,” she continued, “handsome is as handsome does.”

All of a sudden, Sabina had to know if it was Lady Kentigern speaking and she turned quickly around and saw that, yes, it was indeed the raven-tressed baroness. Good for her, Sabina thought. She has a good head on her shoulders as well as fairness of face.

At this point, Jeffree lost his temper altogether and flung his helmet on the ground with such force he surely dented it. Then abruptly, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the ring to the accompaniment of disappointed groans and jeers.

“Such conduct,” the older companion tutted in shocked accents

“Most unbecoming in a knight,” the baroness’s voice agreed with youthful gravity.

Sabina almost choked on her spurt of laughter. She lifted a hand and Laurence hurried over again. “Could you fetch me something to drink, please Laurence? I am s-so th-thirsty.” Her eyes brimmed over, and her shoulders shook slightly. She saw the boy looked alarmed as though he could not tell if she was overcome with mirth or sorrow. She pulled herself together by the greatest of efforts and flashed him a reassuring smile.

“Yes, Lady de Crecy, at once.” He hurried away.

Pull yourself together, Sabina, she scolded herself, though all she really wanted to do was hold her sides and indulge in a good belly laugh. Jeffree’s incensed face. She wiped the corner of her eye with her sleeve. Oh, my goodness, he was absolutely ridiculous! She watched in amused good humor as Roland Vawdrey and Lord Kentigern were awarded the winners of the event.

This time, Laurence bought her wine instead of ale, as though he feared she needed something stronger to get her through the next event. How right that would prove, though as she sat politely clapping the early rounds of the joust, she could not have dreamt the terrible turn the afternoon would take.

For her part, Sabina did not enjoy the formality and order of the joust as much as she had the more chaotic melee. This required a lot of sitting still and waiting for two knights to thunder at one another on horseback down a marked-out straight with lance extended. She could not fathom why it was so much more popular with the courtiers than the melee. Then again, maybe she just had common tastes.

This time even their box joined in with the “ohhhhs” and “ahhhhs” of the crowd. Sabina stifled a yawn as the competitors were slowly whittled down. Would it never end? It seemed to take an age to get through all fifty men and Sabina had drunk a second goblet of wine before they were down to the final ten.

To her surprise, it was only shortly after this that Jeffree went crashing out, defeated by a knight the announcer hailed as “Sir Edward Bevan of Knollesley.” The crowd was both stunned by this exit and gratified for the victor, for this Sir Edward seemed a popular fellow.

Sabina watched Jeffree climb to his feet, looking stiff and disheartened. This time she did not feel like laughing at all. She bit her lip when he touched hands with Sir Edward and raised his helmet aloft in acknowledgment of the crowd. See now, he can be good, she thought and could not help but glance back over her shoulder to see if his critics behind her would acknowledge this show of sportsmanlike behavior.

To her surprise, however, Lady Kentigern was nowhere in sight and only her two mature companions remained, neither of whom seemed to be remotely attending what was happening in the field.

So that was that then, Sabina thought looking about for Laurence. Surely, she could now leave. Then she noticed just how deep in conversation the boy was with his fellow pages. Likely, Laurence would not wish to be dragged away before the end.

Sabina groaned inwardly and steeled herself for another hour of jousting. Her bottom hurt from the hard wooden bench, and she could feel a trickle of sweat between her shoulder blades, for she had now sat a good few hours in the stifling heat. At least her starched wimple would have spared her from the consequences of the hot sun burning her face and ears.

By some miracle, she actually recognized the four finalists. Sir Roland Vawdrey, Sir Garman Orde, Lord Kentigern, and finally the knight that had earlier defeated Jeffree. She was not terribly surprised when Sir Roland knocked out Sir Edward and then Lord Kentigern knocked out Sir Garman Orde.

This meant that for the final charge it was Sir Roland Vawdrey against Lord Kentigern. To Sabina at least, there seemed an inevitability about the final outcome. The northern baron looked so very formidable in his horned helmet astride his huge charger that, though Sir Roland was substantially built himself, she was not remotely surprised when he was knocked to the ground and lay there inert for several minutes before his squire came running to throw a bucket of water in his face and he rolled painfully onto his side.

The cheer of the crowd when Sir Roland clambered to his feet was far louder than it had been when Lord Kentigern had knocked him to the ground. Though he had not triumphed this day, it was plain to see who held the crowd’s heart in the palm of his hand. When Sir Roland tore off his helmet to show his good-natured grin as he congratulated the victor, Sabina found she was not surprised by his wild popularity.

Well, it was all over, at last, she thought gratefully, arching her back and pressing her fingers into the small of her back. She was exhausted and aching all over which was strange considering all she had done was sit in one spot for nigh on five hours. What she wanted now was a nice cooling bath and then to lie about in her shift and drink lots of cold water with the window wide open to allow a breeze. She hoped the wells could be depended on to be clean at the King’s palace, even if hardly anywhere else was.

Looking across at Laurence, she saw him grinning with high glee and receiving many backslaps from his fellow pages for his successful wager. She was just idly wondering which of his companions was the unfortunate Wilf when she noticed Laurence’s jaw drop and saw to her consternation that he was staring fixedly at her.

Suddenly, everyone in the crowd seemed to have gone extremely quiet and Sabina could feel every ominous thud of her heart. When the boy beside Lawrence lifted a hand to point at the area just above her head, Sabina slowly turned her head and found a circlet of flowers dangling just to the left of her brow.

Sabina blinked at it. Where had that come from? On closer inspection, she realized it was dangling from the tip of a long lance. Sabina’s incredulous eyes traveled along the length of it until they alighted on the knight holding the other end. To her astonishment, it was none other than Lord Kentigern. Sabina swallowed past the lump in her throat. He must surely mean it for his lady wife, or another of his kinswomen sat behind her, she thought desperately.