The Innocent (55 page)

Elizabeth was also pleased, because she’d solved the problem of the heavy green gown by deciding she would have eight maidens to bear up the train, none lower than the daughter of an earl. Even the king’s sister, Margaret of York, had been commanded to be one of the bearers, which William Hastings had had to negotiate at first light this morning, and which had caused uproar in the Lady’s rooms—

Margaret was no lover of the queen. However, in the event, Margaret had been forced to agree, because she could not reach her brother in time to plead her cause, and she could not withdraw without his permission. So it had given Elizabeth great satisfaction to hear the voluble surprise of the crowd when they saw who her chief servant was.

Now the queen and the Lady Margaret of England sat together beside the Countess of Warwick and William’s own wife, Catherine, who was down from their northern lands for this occasion and even more pregnant than the queen, as if they were all the very best of friends. To the adoring eyes of the crowd they looked like goddesses, or fairy folk, graciously visiting London for a reason best known to themselves.

The ladies of the court were very knowledgeable about the rules of combat in the lists and keenly looked forward to the contest. Money was surreptitiously changing hands behind the queen’s back as favorites were backed to win. Elizabeth, no less experienced, was torn between excitement, pride, and fear.

This first day of the contest was to be jousting between invited pairs of champions from each side, followed tomorrow by combat on foot. Then each succeeding day would see different weapons used—

pole-axes and spears, bows and maces—and there was even to be wrestling. On the final day, there would be an all-out mêlée between both sides.

Each night there would be prizes awarded at a feast, and an entertainment for the court. Finally, the queen herself would bestow the prize, as Queen of Love, to the most gallant knight of the whole tournament, as judged by the ladies in her Court of Love.

The crowd was becoming restive as William took his seat on the tribune and raised his baton of honor.

Immediately, trumpets sounded and a loud crash was heard at the door of the lists. A moment later a great voice announced that, in honor of Saint Valentine, an unknown knight and his companions asked entrance to the lists. Solemnly, William dropped his hand and the doors slowly opened.

A collective sigh escaped the crowd. There, all alone on a white horse, wearing black armor and bearing a shield lacquered black, was a huge knight. The horse was trapped out with silvered leather harness and black velvet hangings, a horn of pearl strapped to his head. Then in a puff of smoke, as if by magic, the knight was suddenly surrounded by twelve knights all in white armor, riding black horses and carrying white shields. A further puff of red smoke and a dwarf appeared in a green doublet and hose, mounted on a donkey with red leather bridle and saddle.

The crowd applauded wildly as the dwarf led the unknown knights out into the lists to the sound of music until the party was grouped in a semicircle in front of the queen. The music ceased as the dwarf spoke in a surprisingly loud voice.

He addressed himself to William: “Lord Judge of this fierce contest, I am sent by this unknown knight”—the black knight bowed to William who bowed in return—“to crave your favor. He is under a vow of silence and may not speak until he has accomplished, with his companions, a great service to the Queen of Love and her fair companions. He brings twelve champions to fight in their honor but he asks that he may be the first to tilt against any gallant opponent who may come against him.” The crowd screamed, they knew it was the king dressed in black and for him to fight first was a graceful compliment to them all.

The dwarf had hardly finished his speech when trumpets sounded at the gate of the lists again. This time the doors opened and a lone knight entered first, arrayed entirely in gold armor, who was led into the arena by twelve girls wearing green kirtles with snowdrops in their hair. Each girl was attached to the great destrier by a long green ribbon and as they came forward, they danced in and out scattering jonquils for the horse to trample on.

The golden knight bowed to the queen and William, and announced that he was the champion sent to defend the honor of Saint Valentine on his feast day. He would fight the black knight, and his companions would aid him in the contests to come. Another trumpet blast and twelve knights in silver armor rode at full tilt through the gates to surround him, white ostrich plumes tossing.

It was a very pretty spectacle and pleased Elizabeth greatly, especially when the “unknown” black knight leaped off his destrier in front of her stand and, kneeling in the sand of the lists, begged a token from her as her special champion. This was the queen’s moment and she savored it. Slowly she stood and, when she saw she had the attention of the whole crowd, prised the largest of the emeralds from its specially made clasp on her gown and threw it down in a graceful arc to the man kneeling below her.

“There, sir knight, a token of my love, which is still green, as the Queen of Love, for all champions of strength and goodness. May you fight well for the honor of Saint Valentine.”

The knight jumped to his feet, held the stone up to the low morning sun so that it flashed green fire for everyone in the crowd to see, and then sprang back onto his white horse and swept out of the lists, following his companions to await the signal for the joust.

William breathed a small private sigh of relief; so far, all was well. The queen looked radiant and pleased and his little bit of ceremonial mummery had gone over well with the crowd. But, of course, the real danger was about to begin. William dropped his baton to signal the first joust.

He watched with pride and fear as the black knight entered the arena supported by eight pages on horseback, again dressed in white. The great emerald, given him by the queen, was now mounted on his helm, where it glittered and flashed as he bent his head from side to side, acknowledging the roar from the crowd. Two squires handed him up the jousting lance with its blunted end as Edward caressed the neck of his destrier, Mallon. He knew the heart of this horse, his love of battle, he could feel it in every fiber of the animal as the stallion fidgeted from hoof to hoof under the heavy cloth trapping that swept the ground.

More trumpets and the Golden Knight, Warwick, entered the lists surrounded by six squires and pages.

In his gilded battle helm he was strangely idollike, yet his frivolous crest of nodding feathers and streaming ribbons seemed playful. Edward didn’t underestimate the earl, however; there was nothing playful in the way he fought.

Now the two men were ready at each end of the tilt as William held his baton high. The king had the advantage, for the climbing sun was in his opponent’s eyes. The chamberlain waited for utter silence and then dropped his arm—the trumpets blared and the horses began to lumber forward faster and faster each side of the wooden tilt. Closer and closer, sand from hooves flying higher and higher, Edward braced in his saddle, legs rigid in the stirrups as he dropped his head and aimed the lance to the right of Warwick’s body: impact!

Warwick’s lance caught him a glancing blow on the vamplate for no score, but Edward had struck his opponent high just beneath and beside the shoulder and splintered his lance well and truly. Two points!

The crowd roared for their champion, the “unknown knight,” as both men cantered to the end of the lists to receive fresh lances.

Again they turned to face each other, the sun against Edward this time. Mallon was champing foam on the bit and pulling on the reins, nerved for another pass. Edward could have dropped the reins if he chose, confident the animal would hold its line.

Warwick’s horse was no less worthy, and this time without the sun in his eyes, Warwick did better when the two men met in the center, planting his lance squarely just below Edward’s chin for one point.

Edward lost a point as his lance went badly awry, skidding off the top of Warwick’s shoulder piece. The score was even as the two cantered on down the lists, each carrying the smart from two shuddering blows.

At the final course the crowd was utterly still as they watched each knight given his lance. The queen sat rigid, as did the Countess of Warwick, the nails of each biting into their palms.

As if dreaming, Elizabeth saw William’s arm fall, the baton glinting, flashing in the sun, saw the horses spring away. She watched the hooves thud, felt the sand fly, heard the roar of the crowd, as distant as the sound of the sea, and then…a crash and suddenly the golden knight was arcing through the air, his horse screaming as it hit the ground.

The two women sat in shock as the ladies around them leaped to their feet, screaming too, but in delight. The black knight sat on his white horse like a statue just beneath the stand and was showered with snowdrops and jonquils from the court, as squires ran on to the field to help the Earl of Warwick up. At present he lay in a helpless mass of armor as men tried to catch his destrier, who had gone careering around the arena, to the great delight of the crowd.

The queen turned to the countess. “Come, lady, there is your husband. Unhorsed by this unknown knight, but he lives.” Elizabeth did not dislike the countess but she could not help the note of triumph in her voice. Her husband had won yet again, and both he and she were safe. His kingdom was safe.

Unconsciously, she rubbed her belly. Perhaps tonight she could ensure the king’s presence in her bed…

Suddenly, the trumpets sounded again as if someone else were demanding entrance to the lists. This was irregular, the rules said the field had to be cleared of current contestants before more combatants could be admitted.

All eyes swung to the gates as they opened slowly and a strange sight presented itself to the crowd. A veiled woman, simply dressed in black velvet, was riding a gray donkey. Leading the donkey was a man in the long purple robes of a doctor. Gravely he led the donkey toward the tribune where William sat as judge of the tourney and a buzz of speculation ran like flame through the crowd. Doctor Moss walked the donkey past the unknown knight to a point just in front of William and the queen’s stand.

Bowing low to Elizabeth, he asked, in a loud voice, if he might be permitted to address the judge of the tourney, to ask a favor on behalf of the veiled lady.

The crowd was delighted; this was another bit of intriguing byplay and they strained hard to hear what was said. William nodded for Doctor Moss to approach and asked the lady’s name. “Sir, I cannot tell you that, except to say she has lately been in sanctuary at the abbey and now craves your aid, and the aid of the queen.”

His words could only be heard by the people in the two stands closest to the tribune where William sat, but the tension that seemed to flow from the still, black figure had the crowd hushing itself in an effort to try to catch even some of what was said.

William looked helplessly at the queen, who sat frozen and uncertain, giving him no sign. He cast a glance at Edward, who had eased his destrier closer to the lady on the donkey, though he had not pushed up the visor on his helm. He, too, was silent.

William called out strongly, “Sir, how may we aid this lady?”

Moss looked across at the veiled figure and she handed him a sealed packet. He took it from her to William, who bowed as he received it. “Sir, my mistress asks that you read the letter aloud, if you will.”

The chamberlain cast another desperate glance at Edward and, after a moment, the armored head nodded. He was to read the letter. Helpless up in her stand, the queen was white, biting her lips with fear and anger. She knew, she knew who the woman was below her. Anne! Her erstwhile body servant.

In perfect silence William opened the packet and began to read. “ ‘Gracious queen, lady of the unknown knight, I, your unhappy servant, ask aid and sustenance for me and mine. Lately I was in sanctuary but now I must ask your help to leave my safe haven, and this kingdom, never to return.’ ”

The king’s horse was suddenly restive as a strong hand convulsed on the reins; on her donkey, Anne sat proudly but, unseen, the sweat ran down her sides and it was hard, so hard, to breathe.

“ ‘I may not say my name but it is an honorable one and my only crime was to have been born…’ ”

There was an aaaah of sympathy around the crowd. “Once your knight made me a promise that if I came to him on this day I might have whatever I asked for. My request is this: that those who are my friends are made free from fear for having taken my part, and henceforth live beneath his protection.

Your champion laid down one condition only and I freely say, here, in this place, that I have broken it, and thus in truth have forfeited the right to ask his mercy. But still, on his honor as a knight, he may feel I am owed this service so that I may leave this kingdom in peace.’ ”

It was done. There was no going back now—for Anne, or the king.

The queen was thinking fast and her voice was clear with a certain icy ring to it as she addressed the unknown knight before her: “Sir knight, it seems you owe service to this lady. I give you leave to speak so that you may answer.”

The knight was silent for a moment and then, unexpectedly, he laughed. “Gentle queen, I do indeed owe knight’s service to this lady. She shall have my protection and so will her friends. I shall bind myself to see that they remain free and prosperous from this moment. And since their freedom has been so dearly bought by this lady’s sacrifice, your honor as her queen will not be less than mine. She shall leave free, and unmolested.”

There was an edge to his tone and it was heard by every breathless member of the court. The queen’s mouth snapped shut and she did not trust herself to say more. She’d heard the despair in his voice, under the fair, measured words; it made her gorge rise with fear. Love had never been part of the equation with Edward’s lemans before.

The king bowed to his wife, then to the lady on the donkey, signaling that Anne should precede him out of the lists, led by Doctor Moss.