“It is always irresponsible to throw away men’s lives in play,” Cristen said severely.
He smiled at her. “Women ever think thus.”
“That is because women are intelligent,” she shot back.
He cocked an eyebrow, continued to smile, but prudently made no reply.
“Lord Guy gets away with the tournament by saying it is part of the town fair,” Cristen said. She put her medicine pouch on the wooden table and opened it. “But it is not part of the fair at all. The townspeople have nothing at all to do with what happens at the castle.”
“I suppose that Stephen is still hoping to woo Guy to his side and that is why he has not put a stop to it,” Hugh said.
“You suppose right.” Cristen chose a flagon from one of the shelves, checked to see that it was fully stoppered, and packed it carefully in her pouch.
“Another example of Stephen’s weakness,” said Hugh.
Cristen looked up from her packing. “What would you do if you were Stephen and you found yourself in this situation?” she asked curiously.
“I would order Guy not to hold the tournament,” Hugh replied promptly.
“And if he did not obey?”
“Then I would declare that he had forfeited his earldom to the crown.”
Cristen took a brown jar from the shelves. “Guy is not about to hand over Chippenham to Stephen, Hugh.”
“I would bring an army to take it away from him.”
Cristen slowly put down the glass jar and stared at him.
“Stephen cannot have his barons acting as autonomous rulers of their own lands,” Hugh said. “If he allows that, then he is not a king.”
“Chippenham is an extremely well-fortified castle,” she exclaimed.
“There is no castle so well fortified that it cannot be taken.”
She frowned, then began to measure some leaves from the jar into a small bottle. When she had finished, she looked up again at the boy on the bench. The setting sun was shining on his black hair, and as she watched he tossed it off his forehead in a gesture that had become very familiar to her. Her frown deepened. “You obviously have little respect for Stephen. Have you decided that you prefer the empress, then? Would you declare for her if you became the earl?”
He took her question seriously, as he always did, and replied thoughtfully, “Actually, I would probably do the same thing Guy is doing, but for a different purpose. I would stay neutral to try to hold a balance between Stephen and the empress. I would stay neutral to try to accumulate enough power to one day bring about a peace.”
She was not surprised to find that he had obviously been thinking about this.
She lifted her delicate brows. “Then you would act-how did you put it-as an autonomous ruler of your own lands?”
He grinned at her. “Aye,” he said. “I would. Because Stephen wouldn’t have the guts to stop me.” The smile faded. “But I’ll tell you something, Cristen. I wish to God he had.”
Fifty members of Nigel’s household accompanied him to Chippenham. Twenty of the company were knights; the rest consisted of pages and squires and Cristen and her ladies.
The spirits of the men were high as they rode out of the gates of Somerford under their lord’s blue and white flag. The sun shone on polished helmets and hauberks and shields, and the sheen of the horse’s coats almost equaled the brightness of the men’s armor. The day was chilly, with a wind that whipped color into riders’ faces. The flags flew bravely. The jingle of spurs and armor could be heard all along the road as they passed.
The tournament held by Guy was of a very small scale, numbering in the hundreds, not the thousands such as appeared at the great tournaments in France. Still, it was the only tournament most of Nigel’s knights would ever fight in, and their blood was hot to prove their prowess. A tournament was a quintessential competition of males, performed under the admiring eyes of beautiful ladies, who were present in order to excite the warriors to ever greater heights of valor.
Cristen despised it. Every year since the Chippenham tournament had started, at least one knight had been killed in the mêlée. Even though killing was not the purpose of the fighting, an unhorsed knight was in great danger of being trampled to death by the iron-shod hooves of the powerful destriers the knights rode.
Every year Cristen begged her father not to participate in the mêlée, and every year he told her that it was his duty to lead his men on the field of honor.
Cristen, who had the job of binding up all the wounds encountered on the field of honor, thought rather that it was a field of fools.
Her opinion, however, was shared by no one else who attended the festivities at Chippenham. Even the ladies watched avidly, not at all put off by the dust and the blood and the danger. In fact, they seemed to love it.
This year Cristen had a new worry to add to all of those she already bore.
Hugh.
What was going to happen when he saw Chippenham again? Would it trigger his memory, as her father hoped it would?
What was going to happen when Earl Guy saw him?
Was Hugh going to be safe?
As with all great castles, a large area outside the walls of Chippenham had been cleared when it was built so that no one could approach it unseen, and it was on this great open field that the tournament was to be held. Hugh was riding next to Cristen when Nigel’s party came out of the woods onto the field and he had his first view of the castle in the distance.
It was an impressive sight. Surrounding the keep was a massive stone battlemented curtain wall with twin gate towers on the wall that faced the field. From these towers, and from the crenelated crests of four other towers set at the corners of each of the four outer walls, flew a crimson flag displaying the de Leon signature of a golden boar.
Cristen looked at Hugh to see what his reaction to the sight of Chippenham might be.
He was staring at the flag, his face perfectly still.
“The boar has been the symbol of the Earls of Wiltshire since the time of Guy’s father,” she said quietly.
After a moment, he nodded. Then he picked up his helmet, which he had been carrying in front of him on his saddle, and fitted it on his head over his mail coif. The noseguard effectively hid his face from view.
A number of red-and-gold-striped pavilions were set up all along the edges of the field for lodging the tournament guests. The castle itself, even though it was large, was not capable of accommodating over 800 extra people with any degree of comfort.
A single horseman was riding across the field to greet Nigel’s party. Cristen recognized the rider as Guy’s steward, and relayed that information to Hugh.
“He will be welcoming us to Chippenham,” she said. “Then I expect he will have someone show us to our tents.”
Hugh nodded again.
The men and women were lodged in separate pavilions, and Cristen and her ladies were forced to follow the knight who had been sent to escort them. She parted from Hugh reluctantly.
She hated this tournament and wished they had not come.
The inside of the pavilion was as Cristen remembered it from past years. Beds were strewn all over the floor, with silk gowns and fur-trimmed cloaks heaped upon them. Small chests with mirrors and jewelry were placed on the floor next to many of the beds. A group of women had come in before Cristen and her ladies, and they were chattering and primping, making ready to sally forth again.
Cristen was not hungry, but she knew that her father and his men would be gathered around the food being cooked in the castle bailey, and she was anxious to see Hugh again.
The girls Cristen had brought were excited and anxious to leave the pavilion and get out into the crowd. After they had washed off the dust of the ride and attended to their needs, they exited from the tent, where they were met by two of her father’s pages, whom he had sent to keep an eye on them.