The White Lord of Wellesbourne (39 page)

“Thank you,” he said. “Is that
all?”

“And… and I do not want you to
compete against Gaston.”

“Ah,” he came to a stop and
looked at her. “So that’s it. I knew you did not come here just to compliment
me.”

Her lip stuck out in a pout. “That
is not true. “

“Aye, it is.”

She relented, falling forward
against him and throwing her arms around his waist. “Aye, it is. I am terrified
for you to go against him.”

He smirked, wrapping his armored
arms around her as best he could without hurting her.  He kissed the top of her
head. “Wife,” he sighed. “You worry overly. Gaston cannot harm me.”

She looked up at him, his strong
face against the blue sky. “Why not?”

“Because I do not compete against
him next.”

She looked surprised; she did not
know much about matches and the thought hadn’t occurred to her. She had been
singularly focused on Gaston.  “Then who do you go against?”

“La Londe.”

Her face lost all color and her
mouth flew open. “No,” she rasped. “Matthew, you cannot, not after what he just
said. He will try and kill you!”

He held her tightly, attempting
to quiet her. “He cannot kill me.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he
covered it with his own. Every time she tried to speak, he would only kiss her
more deeply.  He soon discovered that there were tears on her cheeks and he
wiped them away with a gloved hand.

“No, love, no tears,” he
murmured. “Everything will be fine, I promise.”

Her weeping was growing worse.
“Please, Matt. Please do not compete against him. I am begging you.”

He smiled at her, his hands on
her face, knowing how terrified she was. He could see it in her eyes.

“Do you love me?” he asked
softly.

“More than my life.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Without question.”

“Then you must trust me now.” He
knew that she did not understand so he explained. “If I were to forfeit the
match, la Londe would think that I was afraid of him. Is that true?”

She sniffled. “Of course not.”

“So I must compete if only to
prove the point that not only am I unafraid of him, I can and will dominate him
and he shall never have you, or anything about you. Is that clear?”

Her tears faded and she sniffled
again, nodding her head. “It is. But I am still afraid.”

“I know. And so does Dennis.”

“I am sorry,” she swallowed what
was left of her tears. “He will not see it from me in the lists, I swear it.”

“Just don’t cover your eyes. Or
close them.”

She gave him a sheepish look. “I
will not.”

“Good.” He kissed her again and
whistled to John, who ran over to them. “Johnny, take her back to the lists and
stay with her. Please.”

There was something in his tone.
John understood; he knew that Matthew was asking him a particular favor. If
something did indeed happen to him, he wanted John at her side to tend to her.
John took Alixandrea by the elbow and escorted her back to the entrance to the
lists. Matthew stood there and watched them until she took her seat.

“Matt,” Mark was standing beside
him. “You are up next. Time to get mounted.”

With a lingering glance at his
wife, Matthew turned back to the cluster of Wellesbourne men waiting to assist
him. He did not say anything to his brother about la Londe’s pledges and
promises. He did not have to.

They all knew the stakes.

***

Even Gaston was watching from the
north side of the tournament field as Matthew and Dennis took their places
against each other. The crowd, having heard the final match ups, had swelled
enormously as more people joined the spectators. 

Alixandrea’s eyes never left
Matthew as he secured the lance and waited for the field marshal to drop the
flag. Dennis seemed to be taking some time in finishing his preparations,
causing a delay. But it was a calculated delay; the longer his opponent was
kept waiting, the more likely he was to become nervous. Dennis was as devious
as he was skilled.

The crowd was ripe with anticipation.
Alixandrea had to make a conscious effort to shut out the noise around her. 
Even John seemed nervous, which did not help her state. Audrey was tired and
had a belly ache from too many sweets, so Caroline and Mena took her from the
lists.  Alixandrea was glad; with all of the tension surrounding this match,
she did not want the little girl to see something that might upset her.

Lady de Russe and her son were
still seated in front of her, now further off to the right and next to the
royal box. Mari-Elle was even talking to the king.  As the unrest of the crowd
grew, Alixandrea caught movement from the corner of her eye and noticed that
Gaston was now standing just below the platform, almost directly in front of
her. He turned to look at her and caught her attention. Then he extended a hand
to her.  Realizing that he wanted her to come to him, she rose from her seat
and obediently went.

He did not say a word as he took
her by the hand and lifted her off the platform to stand beside him.  She had a
closer, far better view of the field from this position.  He took her hand and
tucked it into the crook of his elbow, all the while remaining stoic and
silent. But Alixandrea was no idiot; she realized he had done it because he was
concerned.  He wanted to be with her if something should happen to Matthew and
the knowledge that he was apprehensive scared her to death.

“You are worried, my lord,” she
said to him softly.

He did not look at her. “I simply
thought you might like a better view.”

“I could see fine from where I
was sitting.”

“Would you rather go back?”

“Nay,” she studied his strong
profile. “I would rather stand here with you.”

He did look at her, then. The
smoky gray eyes were intense. “He shall be victorious, my lady.”

“Then why do your eyes tell me
otherwise?”

The corners of his mouth twitched
and he looked back on the field in time to see the flag drop. The knights gored
their chargers and the beasts thundered towards one another, collectively
thousands of pounds of flesh and bone and armor hurling through space.  It was
much louder where she was standing and far more frightening.  Dennis broke a
lance on Matthew’s hip and Matthew broke a lance on Dennis’ shoulder. 
Splinters went flying and the crowd went mad.

Matthew made his customary wide
circle and made a thundering pass before the lists.  Alixandrea could hear them
chanting his name and it gave her courage, thousands of people giving
encouragement to her husband. She started chanting his name, too.  Matthew
slowed his horse when he came to where she was standing with Gaston and flipped
open his visor.

“What are you doing down here?”
he asked.

“Gaston invited me,” she said.
“You were wonderful.”

Matthew’s gaze moved from her to
Gaston and back again. He knew exactly why Gaston had hold of her; should
Matthew become injured or incapacitated, Gaston wanted Lady Wellesbourne close
at hand to make sure she was safe. It was a gesture only a comrade of Gaston or
Matthew’s magnitude would understand. It was what true friends would do for one
another.  Matthew nodded his thanks to Gaston, flipped down his visor, and
continued back to his starting point.

The second glance was benign,
though Matthew managed to get a piece of Dennis’ shoulder again. It put Matthew
ahead in points and the crowd could smell blood. Alixandrea was actually fairly
calm by this point, watching Dennis and her husband prepare for their last
glance. When the lances were finally in place, the field marshal dropped his
flag again.

The horses thundered. The crowd
screamed. The lances went down and aimed for the opposing bodies.  But at the
last second, Dennis lowered his lance into the chest of Matthew’s charger and
the beast impaled itself upon the wood.

The horse collapsed in a flying
mass of flesh and armor, tearing into the guide and pitching Matthew off.
Dennis was caught in the calamity of his own doing as the momentum carried both
Matthew’s charger and the guide straight into him, throwing him and his horse
towards the lists in a huge cloud of dust and wood. 

It had all happened in a split
second. The crowd screamed in terror. Alixandrea heard herself shriek and
instead of covering her eyes, she began to run. She heard Gaston calling after
her, too loaded down with armor to sprint after the very fast Lady
Wellesbourne. The dust still hadn’t settled by the time she reached the center
of the field, but her eyes nonetheless beheld the devastation.

Matthew’s horse was a dead,
bloody mess, twisted in the wreckage of the guide. Dennis’ horse, having been
struck by the violent tumbling of Matthew’s steed, lay several feet away with
an obviously broken leg. Dennis was half buried under his charger and already
men were trying to move him out from under the horse.  The guide was in ruins
and she leapt over it, spying Matthew on the ground about twenty feet in front
of her. Men were running at him from all directions.  She raced to him as fast
as her shaking legs would carry her.

“Matthew!” she cried. “
Matthew
!”

Luke and Mark were the first to
reach him. They fell to their knees beside him, as did Alixandrea a split
second later.  Matthew was moving; that much was certain, and Mark reached down
to unlatch his battered helm. It was dented and stuck, and it took both Mark
and Luke to pull it free. Matthew’s dazed, bloodied face greeted them.

“Matt,” Mark’s voice was full of
concern. “Are you hurt, man? Where are you injured?”

Matthew lay there a moment,
blinking unsteadily.  Flat on his back, he looked upward and could see his
wife’s distraught face looking down at him. She was a mess and he lifted a weak
hand in her direction.

“I… I do not believe I have
broken anything,” he rasped, trying to move all of his limbs. “Alix, do not
cry. I am all right, love.”

She was trying desperately not to
sob. One hand went over her mouth and the other reached out to grab the gloved
hand that he was extending at her. Gaston loomed over her shoulder.

“That was one of the better
spills I have seen on the tournament circuit,” he said it as if it was
something to be impressed about. “Are you sure you are all right?”

Matthew took a deep breath and
felt a stabbing pain in his torso. He grunted. “Perhaps I spoke too soon,” he
groaned. “Get me on my feet.”

“Where do you hurt?” Gaston
reached down to take one arm as Mark took the other.

“My ribs,” Matthew grunted. “I
may have cracked one or two.”

They managed to get him into a
sitting position. By this time, John had joined them and he helped to steady
his brother. The crowd, seeing that The White Lord was at least sitting up,
began to cheer wildly and chant his name.

 Matthew sat a moment, struggling
with his breathing, before allowing Gaston and Mark to pull him to his feet.
Luke stood behind him, lifting him under the shoulders as the others pulled. 
He was extremely unsteady on his legs, but managed to walk out of the arena
under his own power. There is no way in hell they were going to carry him out;
the only way that would happen is if he were unconscious or dead. Moreover, he
had promised Alixandrea that all would be well in the match.  He did not want
to have to admit he had been wrong. For her sake more than anything, he had to
walk out on his own two feet.

They walked past his horse on the
way out. He paused by the beast, gazing down at the mess.

“He was a good horse,” he
muttered. “What a damn waste.”

Alixandrea was following behind,
deliberately looking away when he stopped next to the destrier. She did not
want to see it.  Off to her right, someone took a hammer and put Dennis’ horse
out of its misery. The loud, sickening thud echoed off the lists. The last she saw,
they were dragging out the carcass as another group of men went to work
untangling the remains of Matthew’s horse.  It was a nauseating sight.

By the time Matthew left the
field, he was feeling slightly better. His head wasn’t swimming so terribly, but
his ribs were killing him. Gaston had a good grip on him so that he would not
fall, but Matthew assured him that he was steady enough. He was, in fact, more
concerned about his wife than for himself.   Once clear of the field, he
stopped walking and turned to her.

She was still behind him, head
down, carrying his dented helm. He reached out a hand to her.

“Come here, love,” he said
gently. “Walk with me.”

Alixandrea went to walk beside
him, furiously blinking away the tears that threatened. For as frightened as
she was, she had done a good job of keeping her hysterics in check.  Gaston
took the helm from her and took a position behind both her and Matthew. He
wanted to be close should Matthew stagger.

“I do believe that I am done for
the day,” Matthew said to her. “I am looking forward to a good meal and a warm
bed.”