The Gorgon (7 page)

"Mayhap he doesn't wish to
draw attention to himself," Summer said quietly, her heart thumping against
her ribs with the thrill of seeing de Moray. "He seemed rather understated
today, when we met."

Genisa shrugged faintly,
reclining against the cushioned chair. "I have never met him before, to be
truthful, nor heard much about him. Today was the first Stephan has truly
spoken in depth of him."

Mercifully, the woman quieted
herself and Summer was permitted to gaze openly at the distant knight
uninterrupted. She observed every fluid motion of his massive arms, bringing
about his shield emblazoned with the mighty Gorgon crest and poising it over
his left knee. There were three other knights from his house competing on his team,
and the men seemed to swarm about him when they noticed his presence. A little
man on the ground handed him his lance and he collected it easily, a great
black and white spiral pole.

Summer watched, enthralled by the
only knight she had ever met aside from her brothers, until Genisa once again
screeched in her ear.

"Summer!" she burst.
"Look; the herald is taking the field. The game is about to
commence."

Rubbing her ear where Genisa had
nearly punctured the drum, Summer noted that indeed the herald was taking the
field. On her left side, Edward leaned close.

"See the sword in the man's
hand?" he gestured to the red and white clad servant. "That is my
sword. Grandfather fought on the Lion Heart's crusade with that weapon."

Summer recognized the sword; it
held a decorative place of honor above the massive heart in the main hall.
Edward, sensing his daughter's excitement, took her hand and squeezed it
tightly in an extremely rare show of encouragement. In spite of the surprise of
the uncommon display, Summer gripped her father's hand with natural ease,
smiling happily at him as the herald demanded readiness from the opposing
sides. All visors went down in varying order in answer to the herald's demand,
indicative of the combatant's state of preparedness. As several other heralds
positioned themselves about the arena in preparation for refereeing the event,
the primary herald held the sword high.

"In the king's name, do your
battle!"

The sword came down. With a roar
that made Summer's hair stand on end, dozens of lances came down from their
upright positions and hovered parallel to the ground, pointing menacingly at
the men on the opposite side of the field. The thunder of chargers filled the
air as spurs dug deep into the sides of the beasts, urging them on to victory.
Great clumps of earth were kicked up by the excited steeds, pelting the
spectators who happened to be standing too close.

Summer hadn't realized she had
let out a small cry as the opposing waves of knights crashed into one another
in a great roar of flesh and metal. Poles snapped, sending colored pieces of
wood hurling into the air as the grunts and shouts of men in mock-battle
penetrated the damp sea air. A few men were felled in the initial clash before
they had scarcely had a chance to fight and the crowd in the lodges went mad
with glee and terror.

Summer continued to observe as
flails sang through the air, pummeling unfortunate opponents with their spikes
and weight. The echoes of heavy broadswords filled the air as knights did
battle against one another, sharpening their combat skills and showing off for
the crowd. Already, chargers were going over on their sides and Summer gasped
as brave young squires rushed out to the field to assist their fallen masters.

"The b-boys will be
killed!" she insisted to her father, as if he hadn't noticed the actions
of the foolish young lads. "Make them stay away until this is
finished!"

His expression was intolerant.
"Summer, 'tis their duty to remove their fallen masters from the field.
Otherwise, the men would be trampled under the feet of others."

Distressed, Summer returned her
apprehensive gaze to the field, watching as a strong young squire dragged his
armored liege from the battle. But the man's charger, still on the ground in
the midst of the chaos, was too injured to rise and Summer came to the
conclusion that the melee wasn't exciting any longer. It was brutal, barbaric,
and reckless.

The thrill of her first
tournament began to fade as she watched several more men go down, one of them
bearing de Moray's colors. Some were able to walk from the field on their own,
others had to be carried off. Chargers limped away, others dashed away, kicking
up their heels and crashing through the barriers. As Summer became
disillusioned with the battle before her, others in the lodges were shouting
for more. The more blood and defeat dealt, the more spectacle they wanted to
experience.

 Summer's stomach churned as a
knight bearing colors of yellow and red fell to the ground, blood streaming
from the slit in his visor. His squire was too small to carry him away and
began to shout for help, waving to the heralds milling about the battle's
perimeter. But the heralds refused to assist, demanding that other squires move
in to aid the lad. As Summer watched, the small squire and two other young men
carried the injured man from the field.

The game was no longer
entertaining. Summer could not imagine what Genisa or her father found amusing
within the vicious sport of the melee, men hacking and bleeding and fighting
all in the name of Glory. In faith, she hadn't known what to expect from the
event; somehow, she imagined chivalrous knights doing delicate battle, denting
armor and little else. Certainly not this blood sport before her, knights
savagely fighting until only one man was left standing.

She did not want to watch any
more.

CHAPTER
FOUR

“Father, I demand you stop this
now!"

Edward tore his gaze away from
the exciting spectacle, shocked to discover his daughter near tears. His brow
furrowed unsympathetically. "Summer, what
is
the matter?"

"This," she jabbed a
slender finger toward the bleeding, writhing mass in the center of the field.
"Men are d-dying in there!"

Edward forced himself to pat his
daughter's hand in a feeble attempt to calm her. "No one is dying. It is
all a great competition of skill and talent."

Summer yanked her hand away from
her father, exasperated that the man failed to see the seriousness of the
situation. Turning to Genisa, she attempted to gain a measure of support for
her protest. "And you? How can you enjoy this travesty?"

Genisa looked shocked and
remorseful at the same time. "What's the matter with you, Summer? I
thought you were excited about this."

Sensing she would receive little
backing from her sister-in-law, Summer frowned with dismay; no one seemed to
understand her concern and that, in turn, greatly distressed her. As she
contemplated the blood-thirsty side to Genisa and her father she had never
known to exist, another harrowing cry emitted from the battlefield and she
turned in time to observe a massive green and yellow charger list heavily to
one side. Bearing down upon the toppling beast was none other than the mighty Gorgon
himself.

All thoughts of terror faded for
the moment as Summer watched Bose wield his broadsword high, bringing down blow
after powerful blow upon a man astride the collapsing destrier. In fact, it
seemed that Bose was actually pushing the horse and rider to the ground with
his tremendous strength, and Summer winced when the final blow from Bose's
powerful sword sent the man to the ground once and for all.

It had been quick, bloodless and
swift.  Somehow, Bose's battle hadn't been a fight to the death and Summer
found her distaste for the game oddly eased. As she continued to watch the
massive warrior astride the black and white charger, Bose turned to the man
next to him and plowed through the unfortunate knight as if he was no more than
a child.

 Summer observed with a mixture
of fear and fascination as Bose bloodlessly unseated yet another hapless
victim. With an additional rival sent to the earth, he appeared to pause
slightly to discern just who would be his next casualty. As Summer watched, he
moved directly for a red and white charger.

"He's going after
Stephan!" Genisa's cry suddenly mingled amongst the shouting of the crowd.
"Stay away from him, you beast! Stay away from my husband!"

Summer watched intently as Bose
and Stephan exchanged brutal sword blows. Metal against metal, strength against
strength, the two men battled furiously as their chargers screamed and snapped
at one another. Genisa gasped with terror as Summer continued to observe,
frozen in the peculiar world of awe and apprehension as the ruthless battle
waged before her.

As other horses crashed to the
ground and knights were summarily dishonored by being unseated from their
mounts, Stephan and Bose appeared to do battle much longer than was usual for a
single bout. They continued to hack away at one another as their horses turned
circles upon the earth, screaming and grunting in the heat of battle.

Summer forgot her distaste of the
melee; watching Stephan and Bose compete in a fierce battle was exactly as she
had imagined the tournament to be. Now, finally, she was glimpsing the essence
of the games within the powerful blows and deft skills of her brother and Bose
de Moray. No injured horses, no flowing blood, only talent and knightly prowess
as it was meant to be. This, she decided, was definitely worth watching.

Summer was hardly aware when the
field cleared, leaving Stephan and Bose to do final battle as if they were
Lucifer and Gabriel. With their comrades shouting encouragement from the
sidelines, Summer could do nothing more than watch the brilliant demonstration
of mastery, knowing how fatigued the warriors must be but neither willing to
concede defeat. Certainly, Stephan considered himself the best competitor in
the realm. And, undoubted, Bose considered himself the same. More hacking, more
grunting, until finally, a broadsword clattered to the earth.

It was Stephan's.

Genisa whimpered as her husband
struggled to regain the mace secured to his saddle, dodging Bose's heavy blows
but absorbing others. It was only a matter of time before Bose was able to
unbalance Stephan enough to give him a hard shove and send him smashing to the
earth. As a roar of victory went up from the lodges and sidelines alike, the
knights on Bose's team congratulated their victor for a job well done and
Summer could not help but cheer for him as well.

Her applause, in fact, was the
only praise Bose heard. Aye, he had seen her seated at the edge of the lodges
with Stephan's wife and Lord du Bonne. He could not keep his eyes from her as
the competition began, coming dangerously close twice to being pummeled. But in
the heat of the battle, he had found distraction by the lady's lovely presence
and had delved into the melee with his customary vengeance. One man, two men,
five... all of them had succumbed to the Gorgon's mighty sword.

Including Stephan; Bose had
already disposed of Ian when he sought out the man's older brother, purposely
targeting him in the midst of the chaos. He knew that Summer would be
monitoring her brother's progress and Bose intended that she should see him as
well, even if he was intent to do away with her beloved sibling.

Even as he saw her sitting in the
lists, a faint sea breeze gently lifting tendrils of honey-blond hair, he had
no idea what sentiment was stirring deep within his heart, but he knew enough
to realize that they were emotions he had only experienced once in his life,
when he had met his Lora. He felt sick to his stomach when he realized that
even the initial attraction he had held for his wife was nothing compared to
what he was feeling for Summer du Bonne. What he was experiencing for her was
something different altogether.

It was a confusion that grew and
eased all at the same time when he briefly considered allowing Stephan to win
the bout simply so his sister would not be disappointed. Stephan had fought
admirably until the end, when he suddenly listed dangerously and Bose was
forced to end the match. Had he grasped Stephan by the arm to right the man, it
would have appeared extremely suspicious. Therefore, he did what was required.
He shoved Stephan to the ground.

And his sister had cheered. Even
now as he turned in the direction of the lodges, he could see that she was
clapping boldly for him, her exquisite face graced with a smile.  When Stephan
rose unsteadily to his feet, Bose was scarcely aware of the man's words of
praise.

"Congratulations, my
lord," Stephan said amiably. "I do suppose now I am required to pay
your ransom."

Bose continued to stare at
Summer, smiling broadly underneath the red and white canopy. God help him, the
longer he stared at her, the more forcefully his heart pounded. After a lengthy
moment of gazing upon her beauty, he tore his eyes away from the captivating
vision long enough to focus upon his opponent.

"No ransom, du Bonne,"
his baritone voice was quiet. "I would ask a favor instead."

Stephan raised the visor to his
three-piece helm, his flushed face curious. "God's Blood, man, by all
means. What is this favor?"

Bose felt like a fool; an
immature, giddy fool. Beneath the visor, he could feel the embarrassing flush
and it took far more courage than he imagined to bring forth the request.