gates back into place behind the last of the departed knights. At a glance, there were at least a score of guards on the gates and towers, all of whom were visibly armed and prepared for trouble.
Sparrow squinted up at the sky, noting the sun was directly overhead. “Aye, well, one of us had best find out what is amiss. And soon. Gil, you should not tarry here any longer. Root out Friar and see if his nose has sniffed a change in the wind. I shall tumble my way over to the tourney grounds and see what is what.”
“What about us?” asked Mutter and Stutter in unison, poking their heads up from behind the cart.
“Gather as many of our men as you can lay a hand to and wean them on down to the common. Tell them to hold fast and watch for a signal.”
“We will be of little use without weapons,” Gil advised.
Sparrow nodded and patted the side of the cart. “Tell Robert to move this as close to the field as he dares and to leave a man on guard. And we had best be quick about our business, for unless my ears and eyes are turned inward, those trumpets I hear are heralding the arrival of Prince Gloom at the lists.”
As the echo of the blaring fanfare drifted away on the sea breeze, Prince John and the Baron de Gournay took their seats in the spectators’ bower. Noblemen and guests of honour—including the Bishop Gautier—filled the seats on either side of their host and the regent, their personal guards, squires, and servants crowded the limited space behind them. Nicolaa de la Haye, assuming her role as high sheriff, sat by the Dragon’s side, conspicuously taking the seat allocated for the absent Servanne de Briscourt.
The morning’s activities, which had included wrestling matches, archery contests, and demonstrations of skill with swords and quarterstaffs, had attracted only a smattering of interest from the ranking nobles. These events were staged mainly for the entertainment of the castle inhabitants, whose fingers had snapped enthusiastically for each victor, and whose groans and hisses had followed the defeated off the field. As the morning progressed, the excitement and tension swelled proportionately, and as noon approached, the litters and carts began arriving with more and more jewelled and ornamented spectators. The Bower of Beauty teemed with a riot of multicoloured silks and wafting wimples. Targets and quintains were moved to the sides of the field and the wooden palisades brought forward to replace them front and centre.
The jousting matches were by far the most dangerous and titilating events and those who had deigned to forgo the morning activities in favour of extra sleep or extravagant preening, now eagerly craned their necks this way and that to catch glimpses of the preparations taking place at each end of the enclosure. Tables laden with food and ale for the guests were all but deserted as everyone hastened to find seats and points of vantage. The trumpets flared again, bringing a hush over the crowds as the first two challengers appeared in front of their pavilions.
“How many impartial eyes do you estimate?” the Wolf asked, adjusting the metal chausses on his thighs.
“Two hundred guests and nobles at the least,” Sparrow replied. “Perhaps twice as many retainers, servants, and folk from the castle village, although most of those have been herded higher on the bailey grounds, away from the field. It is the number of guards that worries me. Like bluebirds they are, perched everywhere. On the walls, roaming the crowds, stalking the pavilions. Robert says he smells trouble and I believe him.”
“Robert has a keen nose,” the Wolf remarked.
Sparrow plumped his hands on his hips and scowled his disapproval over ill-placed humour. He had found their leader in the least likely place he had anticipated finding him: in his pavilion by the jousting fields. More alarming, he was alone, save for a handful of squires and groomsmen, none of whom Sparrow recognized.
“I expected someone to tell me you were dead,” he stated bluntly.
“My apologies for disobliging you.”
Sparrow’s glittering black eyes narrowed. “We watched the men leaving the castle. You could have told us you had changed plans.”
“The change was not at my request,” said the Wolf, meeting Sparrow’s gaze for the first time. A shocking, indescribable fury flashed in the depths of the normally cool and steely gray orbs, and the sight of it made the breath catch in Sparrow’s throat.