One True Knight (The Knights of Honor Trilogy) (21 page)

“He is over by Sir Jared, my lady,” Rowena said nodding her head toward the small group of knights gathered at the edge of the crowd. Her father was preparing to mount his powerful steed. “I believe he is readying for his competition.”

Lorena looked over at the direction where she indicated. “I see him now,” she said with a sigh of relief. “I told him that he didn’t have to joust — that he had nothing to prove to anyone.” She twisted her hands on her lap. “But as you can see, he would not listen to me. I do not understand why he needs to be in the tournament and cannot be content with just being a spectator.”

“Do not worry, my lady,” Ava said. “Sir Philip has much skill and wisdom and he will have no problems outmatching his opponent. You will see. This match will be finished sooner than you realize.”

The winning knight walked off the list, while three servants ran into the field, picking up the scattered debris and clearing the ground for the next set.

“I dearly hope so,” Lorena said. “I do not mind so much when I watch others fight, because I do understand that tournaments allow our knights to hone their fighting skills in times of peace.” She paused, making a sympathetic sound as the bleeding knight who lost the previous joust limped past the grandstand with his squire. She shook her head. “I find that I do not care much to see my husband hurt.”

Rowena’s father and his contender waited at opposite ends of the list, their horses pawing the ground with impatience as the servants picked up the last of the wooden splinters.

“Well, I should hope that Sir Philip does not get hurt,” Ava said, reaching over and patting Lorena on the hand. “However he is a trained knight with many years of fighting experience under him.”

“That is exactly my point!” Lorena said. She clasped her hands as if to still their nervous energy, and looked at the large knight who had his sights bent on her husband. “Sir Philip may be trained and he may have fighting skills, yet the truth is that he is no longer a young knight in his prime. While the other knight…”

Her voice was cut off when a scream erupted from her throat. And the thing she feared most unfolded in front of her eyes.

Everyone on the grandstand stood up.

Rowena’s eyes widened with horror. The younger, much stronger knight had slammed his lance into the middle of her father’s shield, the force of the blunted lance pushing him off his saddle. Somehow his foot became tangled in the stirrup just as his horse reared at the tremendous blow. Her father was tossed into the air, and thrown onto the ground as if he was little more than a corn husk doll.

Rowena made a move to go to her father but Ava grasped her arm, stopping her. “There are too many people on the field,” she said.

Lorena on the other hand didn’t seem concerned about the swelling crowd that crushed around her husband. In a flurry of motion, she raced down from the grandstand and dashed across the field. Pushing aside the servants who came to their master’s aid, she bent over her husband’s prone body.

Rowena extracted her arm from Ava, and moved to the wooden railing in front of her. She winced when her father’s roar of pain touched her ears. With the support from Lorena and his servants, he managed to sit up. From this distance, it was impossible to hear what Lorena said to her father, but whatever she said seemed to mollify him. With grudging effort, he allowed his wife and two squires to lead him away from the list.

The spectators cheered him on, but her father’s face was too outraged and twisted with annoyance to notice any encouragement that the crowd offered. He made slow and painful progress to the grandstand.

The herald waited for her father and Lorena to return to their seats, and for the new debris to be cleared from the ground. Then he announced the next match: “The Iron Hawk verses the Challenger!”

Excitement rippled through the crowd, and the awful scene from a moment ago was forgotten.

A woman murmured Jonathan’s name and sighed loudly behind Rowena. She couldn’t blame the woman because her own heart started to quicken its pace. Jonathan. His commanding height and cool confidence was hard to miss, even from afar. His dark head gleamed in the sun, and as he sat on his saddle, his powerful arm holding the heavy wooden lance looked as if it weighed little more than a twig. His body was relaxed yet alert, just like the fierce hawk that was imprinted on his surcoat. He possessed a dangerous strength that was just waiting for the right moment to be unleashed onto his quarry. A couple of people beneath the grandstand began yelling “Hawk! Hawk!” and like a fire started on dry brush, it began to spread with more and more people chanting his name.

Rowena’s father sat, his eyes transfixed on the two knights, and he seemed as if he had forgotten his own pain.

“Who is this Challenger?” Ava yelled, trying to be heard above the crowd. She squinted at Jonathan’s opponent as if she was trying to see through his nondescript grey armor. “He wears no identifying standard on his person.”

“Perhaps that is his aim,” said Lorena. “‘Tis not unheard of for a knight to remain anonymous. He may be a poor knight or he may be someone of status.”

Ava shook her head. “Status or not, I would think that this man is either a fool, or one who is very skilled otherwise why would he be challenging the legendary Hawk?”

Why indeed. The Challenger had a stockier build although it was obvious that he possessed a warrior’s strength. He wore a gray surcoat over his armor although the fabric had no emblem embossed on it. The visor of his helm was already drawn low, hiding his eyes. His horse was similarly draped in a stormy grey cloth. And together man and beast became one formidable entity.

The two knights sat facing each other on their destriers, assessing one another for a tense moment. They seemed almost oblivious to the crowd of people who were either watching the exchange with rapt attention, or excitedly making bets on the winning knight.

Rowena chewed on the bottom of her lip, studying the two knights. Something about the challenger tugged at her memory. Then it dawned upon her that this had to be the
grey knight
that Jonathan’s squire referred to yesterday.

The minutes seemed to pass as the two knights continued to stare each other down. The air became heavy with a barely constrained hostility that encompassed both men. The crowd stopped their chanting and began murmuring as if confused as to why the knights had not moved. But when the herald spoke again in his booming voice, the knights seemed to snap back to reality.

Rowena had little time to wonder about their intense scrutiny when they both turned their attention to her. Then she wished that they were still locked in private combat.

“They are coming toward us!” gasped Ava. Sure enough, both Jonathan and the Challenger rode their horses to the grandstand, coming to a full stop in front of Rowena. Both knights held the tip of their lances to Rowena, requesting her favor.

“I cannot tie my scarf on both of their lances,” Rowena said in dismay. She looked from one knight to the other. The sun reflected off the Challenger’s drawn visor while Jonathan’s handsome face looked at her expectantly. There were other fair women on the grandstand, why did they want
her
to choose between them?

“Just pick one to favor, child,” Ava said. “I will tie my scarf on the lance you do not choose.”

The crowd watched curiously as Rowena and her nursemaid approached the wooden railing.

She bit her lip and cast an apologetic glance at the Challenger before tying her scarf on Jonathan’s lance. Jonathan nodded before placing his gleaming helm over his head, closing the visor with a snap. He then turned to take his position at the end of the list.

Just as Ava leaned over to tie her scarf around the other lance, the Challenger withdrew it. Ava gasped as she was left hanging over the railing. Her face burned with humiliation. But the Challenger paid no mind, and in one fluid motion and without a word, he wheeled his horse around. He charged his war horse to the other side of the list, its hooves tearing the grass up and spitting it into the air.

The onlookers jeered at the knight’s callous behavior. “It seems that you have chosen the right knight to champion you,” Lorena said, frowning at the Challenger’s back. “Behavior like that makes a mockery of the chivalric code which all knights are sworn. He should be disqualified right here and now.”

Although Lorena was rightfully enraged over the Challenger’s heartless display toward Ava, a disqualification was unlikely to occur.

Once again the knights faced each other. The crowd’s cheer for the Hawk grew louder and more enthusiastic. But despite this, the anonymous knight remained calm and showed no signs of being affected by the crowd’s condemnation.

“‘Tis almost as if this challenger does not fear Sir Jonathan,” Rowena mused. “Does that not strike you as odd, my lady?”

“Aye,” Lorena said in surprise. “This is very odd. Fear strikes the heart of men even before they meet Jonathan in the flesh. ‘Tis curious how this man displays no fear at all. Indeed, he shows contempt for Jonathan with every move he makes.”

“Perhaps they met in a battle,” Rowena said. “Do you think he is the Grey Knight?”

Lorena looked sharply at her. “How do you know about the Grey Knight?”

“I —I have heard Sir Jonathan and his squire discussing the knight. I gathered that there is no love lost between them. I thought perhaps he was searching for the knight for some reason.”

Lorena turned her head toward her cousin, a sorrowful expression clouding her face. “Aye, he is searching for the Grey Knight, albeit perhaps for too long,” she said, her tone somber. Then she returned her gaze to Rowena. “If that man is the Grey Knight, then you must promise to stay away from him. He is very dangerous and people who get in his path are harmed.”

“For the past few days everyone is warning me about everyone else. I am not sure who to listen to.”

“There are many dangerous people in this kingdom. Heed the words of others, but also listen to your heart, and judge for yourself who you should stay away from,” Lorena said.

The trumpet sounded, signaling the start of the joust. With ferocious speed, the knights took off, riding toward each other as swift as if they were two animals fighting for one thing — victory.

“Well, I hope whoever this arrogant knight is, Sir Jonathan defeats him,” Ava said, sounding miffed. She spread her fingers over her apron, smoothing the wrinkles from the fabric. “A man like him does not deserve to win, is my humble opinion.”

Whether he would win or not, the Challenger pushed forward. Rowena could sense the air of granite confidence settling upon Jonathan and his mount. The crowd sensed it as well because they watched on, riveted and tense to witness the final outcome of the battle. The sounds of hooves rumbled across the earth, and Rowena’s heart raced alongside the thundering strides of the powerful warhorses. Then the thundering halted. In the second that Rowena could blink, the Challenger’s lance smashed and splintered into dozens of pieces as it made contact with Jonathan’s small metal shield.

Cheers and hisses filled the air.

Without pause, both knights wheeled their horses around to their respective sides. The squires scrambled to outfit their masters with new lances. And while the servants rushed to pick up the large wooden splinters, the warhorses stood proudly shaking their cloth covered faces, snorting with impatience and temper for the jousting to recommence.

When the trumpet blasted again, Rowena sat at the edge of her seat, squeezing her hands together almost as if in prayer. And even as she silently rooted for Jonathan, she was held captive by the actions of the other knight. The two horses kicked up dust and grass, and charged again. Then before Rowena could understand what happened, Jonathan’s horse reared up, his ear-piercing scream echoing throughout the grassy field. Large splinters sprayed into the air. Jonathan was flung off his mount and somehow he avoided becoming crushed by the gigantic beast as it fell heavily on to the ground.

The crowd let out a collective gasp, followed by a murmur of shocked confusion. Then when Jonathan’s mount lay unmoving on the ground, the murmurs turned into angry shouts.
“The Beast! Justice for the Beast!”

But Jonathan paid no attention to the crowd. The sight of his injured horse filled him with a blinding rage. An honorable knight never injured another man’s mount. Never. He ignored the shooting pain in his shoulder, and ran to his fallen horse. He smoothed his hand over the horse’s sleek flank, and Storm raised his head as if to apologize for failing him. Jonathan clenched his jaws and watched helplessly as his loyal mount struggled, using the last of his strength to surge to his feet, while blood seeped out from a gaping wound in his chest.

Through the roaring sound in his head, Jonathan barely heard the herald disqualify the match.

“Do not strain yourself, my friend,” he murmured to his horse. At the sound of his master’s voice, Storm turned his head and nudged at his hand.

Jonathan beckoned at his squire to take his mount away from the field. Then he looked around him. He spotted the other knight several feet away, watching him with amusement.

It was clear to him that the blow was a deliberate attempt to kill him, his horse or both. This knight hid behind the anonymous mask of a challenger but he was no ordinary knight — he was a heartless coward. And it was someone he knew…

He had heard a rumor about an unidentified grey knight in their midst. And when he and Gareth went to investigate, they found a beardless youth underneath the armor. A dead lead, he thought. But this knight clad in grey was different. When he first clapped eyes on the unidentified knight, he knew in his heart that this was it. This was
the
Grey Knight that he searched for. Gareth was right to persuade him to come to Ravenhearth.

“Sire!” Albert shouted as he tossed him his sword.

Jonathan caught the blade, and turned his full attention to his adversary. The grey clad knight bent his head in a mocking bow.

“You have come,” Jonathan said in a deadly voice. “I have waited far too long to fight you, to avenge Amelia’s death. I want to see that hideous face that you’re hiding. Show yourself!”