to control her reaction to his words, especially his use of the word honor, but thought the wince might have been seen. Her father’s rough pinch to the back of her arm told her so. Annora straightened up and nodded.
Though the cheering from the crowd watching covered most of what he said, Annora’s father whispered into her ear. In every word, she heard the sound of her father’s desperation, for clearly, he was involved in something that was about more than this affair. Even more dangerous than tying her future to that of Le Govic.
Something dark swirled around them here at this momentous gathering. Something that seemed to involve the very balance of power among kingdoms and nobles. A whispered word here. A suspicious glance there. Small conclaves where words were guarded. Oh, something was going on here at Lord Yves’s tournament, and Annora knew her father was in it deeply.
Soon, the thunderous pounding of the horses’ hooves echoed in her own heart, and she turned her attention to the two knights there on the field. Le Govic was bigger than his opponent, but the other knight did not hesitate to charge him. She prepared for the crash of the lances into armor as they drew closer, and even knowing it would happen did not diminish the shock of it.
Gasps, shouts and cries filled the air as those watching jumped to their feet as they waited to see if either man would fall. The crowd’s keen disappointment echoed across the lists as both men kept their seats, lances unbroken, and looked none worse for it. It took little time for the le Govic and Sir Robert to return to their starting places and begin their charge once more. Annora held her breath and prayed.
Le Govic injured so that he could compete no more. She would have wished for a more permanent end, but she dared not tempt the Almighty with such a plea. So, le Govic knocked senseless on the ground, with possibly a broken arm, was what she asked for instead. Truly, any injury that would prevent him from fighting with Thomas or hinder his chances of winning against the man she wanted to win.
This next round resulted in the loud breaking of Sir Robert’s lance, giving points and applause to the man. When le Govic raised the shield of his helm, his displeasure was clear. He’d expected to deliver a quick defeat to his English opponent, and his angry expression turned even darker as the victorious knight waved to those cheering for him.
Though of short acquaintance, Annora had seen what le Govic did when his aims were thwarted. Her hand touched the bruises on her neck before she knew it. A shudder trembled through her, and she tried to hide it by adjusting her wimple.
The call for the knights to begin came, and those watching cheered anew. Once more, Annora stared ahead and prepared herself for the deafening sounds—hooves, weapons, lances and the shouting of spectators. Splintering wood against metal forced her gaze to the two knights, and she nearly shouted her joy when she noticed that le Govic’s opponent had won points in the encounter. Though not unseated, le Govic looked shaken.
One could not take a lance to the chest without being worse for it, even if wearing armor. No dents were obvious, but any number of injuries and faults could be hidden from view by their surcoats. As she knew, no warrior wished to display their weaknesses while still in battle. And this was nothing less than a battle.
It took longer for le Govic to regain his balance, and for a moment—one not long enough for her—it looked as though he might fall. But he pulled himself up straight on the saddle and nodded that he was ready.
One more hit like this one could unseat him. One good blow could take him down. Annora uncharitably prayed for those things as the two men took their places at opposite ends of the lists and paused, awaiting the signal to begin.
The rules of this tournament were not rules of battle, for no one was attempting to kill their opponents. Well, in truth, some were, but the majority here were simply trying to prove their superiority over others and win prizes, wealth, lands, brides and ransom. One could not enjoy the fruits of their labor if they were dead. So, after three broken lances, if there were no clear winner, they would continue on the ground.
Annora begged silently once