as the two knights readied themselves for the final confrontation. He started to raise a hand to signal the trumpeters, but reconsidered the gesture as being too flamboyant. He opened his mouth to call the challengers to horse, but since they were already mounted and armed, he thrust his tongue to the side of his cheek and kept his silence. In the end, he slinked back into the lee of the dais and left it up to Prince John to loose the combatants.
The Dragon adjusted the weight and balance of the long, wickedly barbed steel lance he carried, and a keen eye among the spectators launched a fresh volley of wagering. The Dragon couched the twenty-foot shaft of deadly steel on his right side, directly in line with the approach of the opposing rider. The black knight, it was observed with a cry of amazement, favoured the left, making it necessary to angle the lance over the front of his saddle. A wrong step by his charger, a swerve or a veer at the last moment and the tip of the lance would stray wildly off the course.
The Wolf, seemingly unconcerned over the flurry of new speculation swelling in the bowers, affected a last-minute adjustment to the fit of his mail gauntlets. His armour, like the Dragon’s, consisted of many plates of steel linked together over a quilted leather surcoat. This, in turn, was worn over a full hauberk of chain mail, and in combination, was like carrying the additional weight of a slender man on his body. His shoulders were covered by metal spaudlers, his arms were sheathed in a jointed vambrace. Hammered and molded cuisses, poleyns, and greaves shielded his thighs, knees, and lower legs, but even though the armour would deflect most of the potential damage of a combatant’s blow, there was nothing but flesh and muscle to absorb the horrendous shock of impact. Massive bruising could cripple a man at shoulder, elbow, or knee even through the layers of link, hide, and steel, and if an opponent became aware of the weakness, he could strike again and again at the vulnerable point until his adversary fell.
Both knights waited, planned, calculated. Their chargers were still as statues, their armour and silk trappings glinting in the sunlight.
Prince John stood, the golden arrow raised above his head for all to see. With his black eyes narrowed against the glare of the lowering sun, and his face reflecting avaricious delight, he brought his arm arcing swiftly downward, giving the command for the two destriers to spring into action.
In a matter of a few heartbeats, the two beasts had thundered to the midway point of the lists, their riders leaning forward, intent upon the approaching threat. The unblunted tips of the two lances lifted at precisely the same moment and converged into a single line of unbroken steel for a split second before a tremendous crash and scream of metal sent the horses buckling and the riders staggering to maintain their balance.
The crowd held its breath, then released it in a long, low groan as men and horses separated and galloped to the end of the lists unscathed. Both tossed away broken or splintered lances and called for new ones. Wheeling their destriers around, they set themselves for a second pass, and this time it was the Dragon who reached the halfway marker first, his lance a notch higher and bolder in its objective to strike for the blackened visor.
The Wolf had to think and react quickly as he saw the flash of steel fill his limited field of sight. He raised his own lance at the last possible moment and hooked it to the inside edge of De Gournay’s, locking the two shafts together, and creating a fiery shower of sparks from the searing friction. The Dragon had no choice but to release his grip on the lance, or risk having his arm torn away at the shoulder.
Furious and cursing, he rode to the end of the list and screamed for a new weapon. He spurred his horse back into the cloud of hot dust boiling between the palisades, his rage launching him like a bolt of blue and silver thunder, back into the fray. His lance struck a solid blow to the Wolf’s shoulder, gouging through the links of his spaudler and ripping away a goodly chunk of leather and cotton padding from the surcoat below. On their next pass, he aimed for the same spot but missed by