One of Henry’s men swiped at me but did not reach me as I got through the gap. I eased off, not to put too great a distance between me and my pursuers, and rode not for the corner diagonally opposite but for the nearer north corner. The field was a big one, of more than a hundred acres, but it seemed small to me now. Fortunately they did not have the sense to fan out but came after me in a bunch. Fifteen yards from the corner I wheeled and made my second dash, past their left flank.
I did not clear it fully this time. Two got glancing blows in on me and ahead I saw an outrider. I had to go between him and his nearest companion and they moved as I did, to sandwich me. They almost succeeded. My horse squealed as the shoulder of a big bay slammed against her rump, and a chopping blow from a sword made my head ring and rocked me in the saddle. But they could not hold me. I was through again and this time heard the cry I had been waiting for, Laurie’s exultant shout:
“Three down! Against Gregory!”
This had been my plan. I had gambled that, in hot expectant pursuit of me, they would ignore my team. These, under Laurie’s command, had ridden in chase of the chasers, with the aim of picking off men in that team which was straggler to the others. And the ruse had succeeded: they had got three of Gregory’s men before anyone realized what was happening. Now as I wheeled once more they rode back to me in triumph while the rest, confused again and uncertain, rallied to their own Captains.
The uncertainty did not last long. We were no longer the weakest, to be harried and destroyed. Three of Gregory’s men were limping from the field, their horses running free. Gregory, with his last remaining follower, backed toward the north corner. He knew what must follow.
The three teams came in on him for the kill, but here again our intention was not what it seemed. We left the unhorsing of Gregory to the others, going ourselves for Henry. Laurie and I pulled down one of his men while the other three got a second. Then I rode for Henry himself. My sword crashed against his shield. In riposte he got through my defense and struck me in the ribs, jerking me backward. I was struggling to keep my foot in the stirrups when the gong boomed to a new tumult from the crowd. The first Captain was down, bringing the first interval. Henry and I drew away from each other and I saw Gregory walking disconsolately toward the Captains’ tent.
The tactics of the second round were simpler. Edmund and I needed no conference to establish the advantages that lay for both of us in cooperation. Our teams were intact while Henry was reduced to a single man on either side. We must join forces to crush him.
But although the aim was simple it proved far from easy. Henry fought tigerishly and with intelligence, again and again forcing a way clear of us and gaining a breathing space. I lost Martin before either of Henry’s two men were down. If I lost another we would be as weak as he was—weaker because he had better men—and things could turn against us. I shouted to Laurie and he and I picked out Henry’s left flanker and attacked him together. He parried my blow but Laurie’s, coming in from the other side, toppled him from the saddle.
Even then it was not over. When Henry was at last alone he fought on for what seemed an age, earning the crowd’s acclaim. But we got him in the end, dragging him down almost, as hounds would a stag. The gong sounded and wearily we drew apart. Only then did I realize that two more men had gone, one from Edmund’s team and the other, a lad called Carey, from my own.
We were all battered by this time and Laurie was streaming blood from a gash just below his ear. My head rang from the blows I had received, despite my leather helmet, and my shield arm was so stiff and painful that even raising the shield was an agony. (Two of the dismounted, we learned, had broken arms, a third a dislocated shoulder.) But we had survived two rounds, against odds. We had good reason to be proud. We could rest on the laurels we had already won. It would not matter if Edmund overwhelmed us at the end.
As, plainly, he must do. He had four men against three and the four were stronger and better fighters. There was no more room for tricks of playing one against another. Our horses were tired, too, their early nimbleness worn down by the pounding of the fight and the sticky churned-up mud of the field. We had done better than anyone could have guessed and though Edmund took the jeweled sword he would not take all the credit.
But although before the Contest I would have settled gladly for the present situation, now, fiercely, my ambition demanded more. In a battle of attrition we had no chance but if . . . I spoke to my two remaining followers. Laurie shook his head.
“It cannot succeed.”
“Perhaps not. But neither can anything else.”
The gong sounded again and we came out of our corners. Edmund and his men rode slowly, bunched together. On my command, though, my two swung left while I myself bore right. I saw Edmund halt his team, considering.
He was alert for tricks but he could not see one here. We, the weaker side, had split our forces and I, their Captain, was heading away from my men. His response did not need much working out. He detached two of his men toward my two, to hold them if they could not overcome them. He and his chief lieutenant, a huge brawny lad called Tom, headed for me.
They split as they drew near, to take me one on either side. I had expected that, too. Ten yards, five. I freed my feet from the stirrups. They came at me, swords raised to slash. As they did so, as Edmund’s horse came alongside mine, I threw myself out of my saddle and onto him.
He could have withstood me if he had kept his head, but he flinched. I got him by the neck, dragging him down. Tom tried to get round to help him but could not do so for my horse. Edmund and I crashed to the ground together.
The rule had it that if the last two Captains were dismounted simultaneously they must remount and meet for a decision, but this time unassisted. I watched him ride toward me from his corner. I had thought my shield arm hurt before but now it felt as though a thousand devils were sitting on it, driving in claws of fire. He was stronger than I was and had beaten me often enough in swordplay. Under normal conditions I was no match for him in single combat.
But conditions were not normal. Twice that afternoon I had surprised him. In addition, I was Captain of a team the others had contemptuously decided to eliminate at the start and we had won through. And he had flinched when I fell on him, and he knew I knew it.
I had kept silence throughout the Contest. But as we closed I yelled deep in my throat, a yell of hate and triumph. I watched his eyes and saw them wince. Then there was no time for anything but fighting as our swords smacked heavily together. He held his ground for a few minutes and we traded blows. His horse was heavy enough to have forced mine back but he lacked the will for it. Instead it was he who gave way. I prodded his horse’s flank with my sword. It reared and he fell, almost willingly.
Not looking back I rode my horse toward the Prince’s tent.
THREE
THE SEANCE OF THE CROWNS
TWO DAYS AFTER THE END of the spring Fair, the earth quaked. It happened in mid-morning and I was in the grazing meadows riding the horse my father had given me for my victory in the Contest. It was a roan gelding of fourteen hands and he knew of the quake before it happened, as was often the case with animals: he halted and whinnied with fear, and stood there shivering. As my foot touched the ground, dismounting, it seemed to move away from me, in a heavy rolling which made me stagger and almost fall.
I do not know how long the earth’s shivering lasted—minutes, I thought, but probably I was deceived. To be without that firmness and solidity underfoot, which one takes for granted, even for ten seconds can seem an eternity. I stayed holding the reins after the rolling stopped, the horse and I both quivering as though the quake were dying away in our nerve ends. But nothing more happened. Dogs which had been barking in the distance fell silent. The air was calm. I remounted my horse and rode into the city to see what damage there had been.