Page 88 of The Knight’s Reward

Count victory before you’ve achieved it, and you are lost.

He could hear Adam’s words in his ears, cautioning him, teaching him humility. Geoffrey had urged him to rethink his choice time and again, despite knowing the happiness of being loved. Despite the similarity between his situation with Sara and the difficulties Neill and Kathryn now faced.

So much hung in the balance:

The Day of Truce.

Caxton.

His family’s safety.

Lyndwood.

DeBeers.

War with France.

His mind had been awash with uncertainty, and so he’d done what he always did in times of trouble—he’d fetched Aylmer and the two of them gained entry to the very place he now stood. The training yard was the only place he could find peace, and Neill desperately needed to calm his mind this day.

“Quintain?” he asked. The captain pointed, and he and Aylmer made their way to the far end of the field. Once, grass may have grown beneath their feet, but no longer. Men’s feet and horses’ hooves had turned the ground beneath them to dirt. A wall of stone surrounded them, encircling one of the largest training yards Neill had ever encountered.

“Do you remember the first time we were here?” he asked Aylmer, who rolled his eyes in response. “What is it?”

“We’re being watched,” Aylmer said. “Word spreads as the mighty Neill Waryn makes his way through the yard.”

Neill pretended not to notice. “Yet another reason to return north.”

“You’ll not lack competitors if it’s a fight you want this morn.”

Sounds of clanging swords and the grunts of men practicing their skills rang in the air all around them. A comforting sound that brought Neill as much peace as he was likely to feel under the circumstances.

“Need,” he clarified.

Aylmer knew most of Neill’s situation, but he’d not yet told him about his meeting with Lyndwood. He knew why he’d kept the details to himself, which troubled him nearly as much as the decision he would be forced to make.

He knew in his heart Aylmer would agree with Geoffrey.

With Lyndwood.

Even with Kathryn, who’d seemed horrified by Lyndwood’s revelations about Lady Alina. “We cannot do this,” she’d said. He knew she worried about her role in the breakdown of peace, but as he’d told her, the decision was not theirs but Edward’s.

Still, she was not wrong to think everyone would cast blame on him. On Kathryn.

He could endure it, but could she?

“Neill?”

“Aye,” he said, reaching the quintain. Three were erected far enough apart to allow them to be used simultaneously. One held a shield, another a sack of grain, and a suit of armor waited in the third. The areas were used for training, each serving a distinct purpose.

In the joust, some men excelled by the strength of their hit, for which the armor would help them practice. Others, speed, the force of their lance coming from the quickness of the mount beneath them. Still others, for precision. The swinging bag of grain was more often missed than hit and provided practice to hone that particular skill.

Neill was known for all three.

“Will you progress?” Aylmer asked.

Neill nodded, approaching the area reserved for those who awaited their turn. They’d not been permitted to bring their own mounts, as was customary in the royal training yard. When it was Neill’s turn, he would borrow one of the king’s crusaders, another name for the destriers bred expressly for this purpose.

“Aye,” he said as he was summoned to the first quintain.