I returned to my bed but I did not sleep. Thoughts ran jumbled through my head, not about the dream but the reality. I imagined the fight, looked at it from every point of view, and from every point of view was driven to the same conclusion: we had no chance at all. It was a standard operation for the three stronger teams to concentrate first on eliminating the weakest. I had worked out plans to counter this but here in the still center of the night I recognized their futility. They would only, as I saw, expose us to greater mockery when they failed.
I thought of my father’s warning and acknowledged the truth of it. Pride and ambition ran too strongly in me. It would be better to settle for what I had, to be contented with my lot. It was, after all, a good one. I had been born true man, not dwarf nor, God forbid, polymuf. I had been born in this city of a noble father—of no lineage, but noble. I had my health and strength, the use of my wits. Now, by the fortune of another’s falling sick, I was chosen a Junior Captain and, whatever happened in the Contest, would wear a sword tomorrow night at the feast. Even if we were ignominiously defeated, I myself unhorsed in the first charge, the defeat and the derision that went with it, the hissing and the laughter, were a small price to pay for what I gained.
That was the sensible way to look at it. But as I thought of the mob and its ridicule the sweat was cold again on my back and down my legs. I turned violently in my bed, striking the pillow with my fist, willing my mind to blankness, willing sleep to come. I must rest, to be strong for the day ahead. But the more I demanded, the further sleep drew from me. At last I turned to pleading. I called on the Spirits of my Ancestors to aid me. That, too, did not help. The window’s square had begun to pale before exhaustion succeeded where demands and pleas had failed, and I slept.
Then the maid, Janet, was shaking my shoulder gently. It was broad day. I looked at her through eyes that would scarcely open, my mind fogged and stupid.
“Time to rise, Master Luke.”
I asked: “What day is this?”
She smiled at me. She had no visible deformities but she wore her dresses high up at the neck. A good-looking woman but she was past thirty and had not married; though most polymufs did. The destructive Spirits, one guessed, had done their work cruelly on her.
“Contest Day, Master Luke,” she said. “Your day.”
• • •
It rained all morning but the rain was warm now. Blowing direct from the Burning Lands, it left a coating of gray behind it. I could imagine my Aunt Mary’s lips tightening as she watched the white sills and flags outside her house besmirched. The polymufs would be hard at work as soon as the rain ceased.
And it did cease around midday. In the early afternoon the Young Captains rode their troops out of the city with leather jackets dry and silver epaulets gleaming in a watery sunlight. We rode in procession across the bridge and through the East Gate. The Prince and his Captains led the way, followed by their ladies. Next came Ezzard and the Acolytes; then the Young Captains in order of lineage. Edmund first, of course, as son of the Prince, followed by Gregory and Henry. I came last. After us the senior burgesses, the Sergeants, farmers in for the day. Then the common people, then the dwarfs. Last of all the polymufs. There was chattering and laughter, and strollers playing instruments and singing songs.
The city would be almost emptied of people, the walls which Prince Stephen had built so high stood unmanned. It was true that this was the time of the Spring Fair when no war was made throughout the civilized lands. The Spirits forbade it. But if someone broke the truce, I wondered, did that mean the Spirits would defend the city lying at the attacker’s mercy? Their ways, as even the Seers admitted, were capricious; neither punishment nor reward was certain. I remembered my own desperate pleas for sleep and how they had gone unanswered. Contests like this one were held in the other cities, too. Romsey, for instance, no more than ten miles to the southwest . . . a handful of men, riding swiftly, could take and hold it.
I dismissed the speculations as futile. It was the custom to keep peace until after the Spring Fair. Even to think of anything different was to offend the Spirits. They had not helped me in the night but they might still help me in the fight to come. And I needed help, all the help I could get.
We came to the Contest Field and Ezzard blessed the contestants in the name of the Spirits. Tents had been erected at one end for the nobles. I saw my father and mother there, and Peter. Not Aunt Mary. A woman who married a nobleman became a lady but the wife he had put aside had no rank. I trotted my horse past the throngs of commoners and found her, wedged in at the front. I dismounted and bowed to her.
“Greetings, Aunt Mary. Wish me well.”
She nodded fiercely. “I do that, Luke.”
A man nearby made a jest about my chances and others laughed. She turned on them and they fell silent. I mounted and rode to where my parents sat. My mother said:
“Don’t get hurt.”
She spoke in a little frightened voice. She had clapped her hands with delight on hearing that I had been picked to be a Young Captain. She lived in the moment. Nothing was real to her before it happened, or mattered much after.
My father said: “I know you will fight hard, so I have nothing to tell you. The Spirits go with you.”
The first gong boomed and it was time to bow our heads before the Prince. On the second gong the Contest started.
• • •
Each Captain took a corner of the field. I had the western one, nearest to the city but farthest from the Prince’s tent. I waited with my men and spoke to them quietly:
“Remember, keep silence.”
It was usual for the teams to go into the fight noisily, yelling threats and imprecations. To cause fear, I suppose. It seemed to me that if mine were not already frightened by the odds against them a few shouts would not make them so. Our keeping silence would set us apart from the others but perhaps not to our disadvantage. It would also, I felt, help us to concentrate more, and help my men more easily listen to my commands.
The second gong boomed.
The four teams advanced warily from their corners. There were a number of ways in which a Contest might begin. Sometimes the teams circled the field for a period, keeping their distances, until one broke into an assault on another. Sometimes they met right away in a furious all-in melee toward the center. There was another possibility which I had dreaded, and my heart sank as I realized that this was what was happening. The other three teams were converging on ours; they were combining to eliminate the weakest before settling down to a Contest of three.
I had made my plan and I was committed to it. If it did not come off it must make me look a fool or a coward, more probably both. The distances narrowed and I waited for the moment and watched for the opening. It must be left till the very last instant but the last instant could be too late. They had started hurling threats and catcalls at us. I said to Laurie on my left:
“Stand when I break. After that, it’s up to you.”
They were not hurrying. Edmund’s troop were a little ahead of the rest and I saw him rein in to let the other two come up. They were out to crush us completely and were taking no chances. They were within twenty feet, fifteen. The best gap was between Henry’s troop and the fence. Sharply I dug in spurs and set my pony’s head toward it.
The roar from the crowd momentarily drowned the yells of our attackers. As I have said, a team was eliminated as soon as its Captain was unhorsed. To bolt away from the protection of one’s men was unheard of. My team, I knew, were standing fast behind me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the other teams confusedly trying to change direction. My sudden move had taken them by surprise but they were rallying to follow the obvious quarry. They must think me mad or panic-stricken. Whichever it was, their aim remained the same and its fulfillment now was easier. They were certain of riding me down.