Reckless (Age of Conquest #5) - Tamara Leigh Page 0,122
“And you as well. Come morn, you will receive a generous bride gift.”
With Vitalis addressed as if he were chattel, it was difficult to be grateful for what William would give her—hopefully, what she had asked for—but when her husband said darkly and evenly, “I am prepared,” she followed his lead.
“Much gratitude, Your Majesty.”
He straightened. “Your battleground is being made ready, Sir Vitalis, your opponent armed as you shall be. Two items you may have upon your person. So decide what they are to be.”
“Sword and—”
“You do not wish to know what Sir Daryl chose?”
“All I require is sword and dagger.”
Annoyance gathered the flesh between William’s eyebrows. “Your opponent chose sword and mail hauberk. You are certain you do not wish armor as well?”
“I am certain.”
The king grunted. “If you seek to impress me, you do.”
“What I seek, Your Majesty, is to quickly end the contest.”
This time the laughter that opened William's mouth and lit his eyes sounded genuine. “I cannot help liking you better. It is both offensive and refreshing that it matters little what I think. No doubt, you shall prove a welcome addition to Lady Nicola’s family.”
Vitalis squeezed his wife’s hand, released it, and rose.
Her brothers and cousin did the same, and as they moved toward the hearth to fit her husband with weapons not his own, the king said, “With me, Lady Nicola. You shall observe the contest with me and my son.” When she came around the table, he leaned near and, breath feathering her brow, said, “I am surprised you appear so worried. Since first you met the man I gave you to wed, surely he has provided cause to have faith in him.”
“So he has, Your Majesty. He will prevail.”
“Did I not believe it myself, his head would be parted from his shoulders.” William lifted her hand, set it on his arm, and turned toward the doors.
The prince was on the landing outside. He gave her a nod, then descended the steps behind her and William. There was much activity here, and rising from it an air of excitement.
The Normans were hungry for a match between two of the conquered, and it chilled that, for many, the longer it lasted and the more blood was shed, the better they would sleep this night.
Though Nicola had thought the killing ground would be the outer bailey, after they ascended the gatehouse steps, the king turned her toward the battlements overlooking the land. Hair veil tossing lightly in a welcome breeze this exceedingly warm day, she followed his gaze to the right of the lowered drawbridge and saw it was there the opponents would wreak vengeance.
Daryl was below, as well as walls erected to mark the boundaries of the contest, each side comprised of half a dozen men-at-arms and knights.
As told, the traitorous Saxon had chosen a chain mail shirt and sword, and that blade he swung as he rehearsed fighting stances that moved him side to side, forward and backward.
For the first time, she looked near upon the miscreant who slew Zedekiah, it having portended ill to do so previous to this day lest she fly across Red Castle’s hall and strike with fists and feet. But now that there were the barriers of height, the conqueror and his son, a flight of steps, and walls made of men, there was no chance of reaching him.
“You also wish him dead,” William said.
Silently vowing she would become better at masking her thoughts, she turned her face to him. “Zedekiah was a good, honorable man.” She noted the prince on the other side of the king attended to their exchange. “As much as Vitalis, he aided me in escaping the Danes, and that one”—she jerked her chin at Daryl—“took his life and desecrated his body. No love can I have for him.”
“Hence, your husband’s vengeance will be yours as well.”
She raised her chin higher. “Since Vitalis has been commanded to fight and has every right to defend his person, it will be justice when Daryl falls.”
He shrugged his mouth, a habit quickly becoming offensive. “I also prefer the word justice, though often it is merely a substitute for vengeance.”
Where he was concerned, she did not doubt it. And, she feared, it could prove the same for Vitalis this day. Considering her husband’s height and breadth was greater than that of most men, including Daryl, and the skill and ferocity with which he fought, he would have to err greatly to be the vanquished one.