other in speculation.
“He who is first is now last,” repeated the King with a fierce frown. “I don’t think I quite …”
Una peered down at the ring and saw Earl Vawdrey gesturing to some guards. For one horrible moment she thought they were going to arrest Otho, but instead they plunged into the audience, and Una watched with a sort of horrified fascination the bizarre turn of events that saw them drag five minutes later another knight altogether into the ring. He still held a flagon of ale to his lips and held a half-eaten pastry between his fingers. He had now shed most of his armor, but still wore the shoulder plates and his chainmail vest.
“Eh, what’s all this?” she heard Sir Armand de Bussell ask, as he was marched into the center of the ring by an armed guard.
“Good Lord!” thundered King Wymer. “Last place was De Bussell!” He reached out a hand to grab her sleeve and wag it. “De Bussell, I say!” Una looked at him speechlessly. Clearly the King was in the grip of some deep emotion. His eyes glistened and his face glowed. “By gads, I’ll give Vawdrey a dukedom for this!” he said, his voice rasping. “Or mayhap,” he reflected. “He’ll want a title for that rackety youngest brother of his. Viscount Vawdrey or some such thing.”
Back in the ring, the jester was turning somersaults, before he approached the bewildered De Bussell.
“Sir Armand de Bussell,” announced Robkin, puffing out his chest. “Have I got glad tidings for you this day!” He looked about him slyly at the audience who were starting to break out into cheers. “For you thought you were cast down in the doldrums, the lowest among this fine company.” He struck up a benevolent attitude. “Little did you expect, the miraculous transformation of your fortune!” Trumpeters blasted at this point, having picked up some cue, and a banner unfurled from the royal box. Una leaned over and to her astonishment, saw the large green wyvern of House Blechmarsh hanging in all its glory. She blinked, reflecting that this particular standard had not been displayed in a Southern palace in some five hundred years. True, they had expunged the golden crown that should sit at the beast’s brow, but even so, it was an astonishing turn of events.
“I don’t quite follow …,” she faltered, not able to believe that she was to be offered a reprieve from the cruel fate that had so nearly befallen her. She started again. “Am I to understand—?”
But the King was not attending her, instead he was snapping his fingers to attract the attention of one of his pages. “Fetch us some refreshment, boy! Honeyed mead and cakes!”
Una turned back to gaze down at Sir Armand whose expression of affable bewilderment was now being replaced with one of stunned disbelief. He was saying something now, his hands waving. It looked very much like a spirited denial of the great honor done him. Una swallowed and dragged her eyes away from his protests. Poor man. She felt bad for him, indeed she did. Doubtless this unlooked-for distinction was quite unwelcome to him, quite the opposite of what she herself felt. With his own patent lack of experience in the field, he could not have expected to win her hand. He must have entered simply for the experience and now he found himself saddled with an unwanted bride.
For Una’s part, she felt almost sick with relief. Her eyes scanned the arena anxiously as she sought out her half-brother. She saw his expression dark with rage, as Earl Vawdrey drew him to one side. Otho was bright red with anger, his mouth working furiously as he gave vent to his wrath. How like their father he looked at this minute, Una thought despairingly. She had seen their royal father’s rages too many times to think this storm would pass quickly.
Una watched tensely as the King’s chief advisor appeared to quietly listen for a while, then all of a sudden, lift his head and say something that made Otho’s expression blanch. Otho staggered a little, his face white as chalk as he stared at Lord Vawdrey who was now all smiles again. Was it purely a figment of Una’s imagination or did his smile look a little … sinister? Una didn’t think she was fanciful, but certainly something about his expression and his stillness was disconcerting.
Looking at Otho, she could see he felt it too. He looked like a stunned