Bloodless Knights (2 page)

Friar
Thespis began the longest oration I have ever suffered through. As I
contemplated stirring the crowd by running to the front of the chapel with my
britches down, I saw her: a raven-haired angel with a white, pattern-covered
scarf dangling from her throat and fluttering over a golden satin gown. She
stood across the room, bowing her head. I knew - without a doubt - I had never
seen her before. Her skin was pale; her lips a soft red. I couldn’t stop
staring at the lady. Her loveliness was magnified by sunlight, filtering
through a depiction of God memorialized in large plates of colored glass. Light
rays glistened off her tiny nose. I tried to inch closer toward her, when
Thespis cleared his throat loud enough to startle most of his worshippers. I
glanced up at him. He stared directly at me, leaving no doubt his gesture was
for me. I quickly bowed my head and continued slowly stepping toward the woman
I had to meet.

I
kept my gaze on the angel’s hair that flowed over the waist of her dress. It
looked soft and I fantasized what it would feel like to run my fingers through
it while I tasted her ruby lips. I wanted desperately for her to look up at me,
but she didn’t. She seemed lost in her prayers and I wanted to throw something
her direction. I wished the chapel wasn’t so crowded with people, even though I
felt proud that Brendan had such a following.

“Amen.”
Friar Thespis lifted Brendan’s sword off the altar and my father, King
Ladislas, ascended the stairs to my brother who was motionlessly kneeling at
the altar. Brendan struggled to hold his fatigued head up as the king grabbed
the sword and beamed with sheer delight. He tapped each shoulder with the broad
tip.

“I
dub thee knight. Arise, Sir Brendan!” Ladislas clasped Brendan’s hand, awkwardly
helping him to his feet. I watched them embrace and remembered back to my
ceremony when father had said he was too ill to attend. Father’s head knight,
Sheriff Helman Albott, had performed my dubbing and shook my hand with all the
enthusiasm he could muster. That handshake didn’t feel nearly as nice as a hug
from my father would have. I hadn’t seen Sheriff Albott for a while. It was odd
to me that he didn’t attend Brendan’s ceremony. I made a mental note to ask my
father where he had been; as he was the man I was to report to every Monday.

I
turned disgustedly from this display of affection. I looked back to the
direction of the lady I knew I would never forget, only to find that she was
nowhere in sight. I scanned the room frantically, but somehow she had
disappeared.

“Oh
please don’t let her have been a dream!” I muttered out loud. An elderly woman
next to me stared harshly as I tried to make my way toward the door of the
chapel. Unfortunately, everyone else decided to leave the chapel at the same time.
I realized any efforts to exit the building in a hurry were futile and that’s
when I remembered that I was here for my brother. I turned to go to him only to
find that he had made his way to me.

“Tristen!”
I felt Brendan’s arms around me before I could fully turn. He released me and I
looked into his eyes. They were droopy and he yawned then smiled slightly.
“I’ve never been so happy to have something over with.”

I
laughed, “Let’s get ye to bed, Sir Brendan!”

#
# #

I
left a gift for Brendan next to his bed. I knew he would be happy to awake to a
full set of armor identical to mine. He had always told me how jealous he was
of the fine pieces. The Blacksmith and Armorer, Ladamar Lareau, had forged it
as a favor to me. When I asked him to make another set for Brendan he was
thrilled.

Ladamar
had passed away only a few weeks before the tournament. It had been a sad day
for our kingdom; he was the best blacksmith around. People would travel far
distances to have anything forged by Ladamar. I was disappointed that he
wouldn’t see his fine work upon my brother’s broad shoulders.

The
castle grounds were adorned with bright flags and more people than I had seen
in months. I imagined it was to take a-go at the gauntlet, whose prize offered
a large purse of gold coins from the king. I noticed a good number of crests,
squires, horses and armor I had never seen, but that simply heightened my
excitement for the joust. The smell of pork grilling in the city center made my
mouth water, but there was no time for food now. The bright day slowly warmed.
Birds crooned to wild flute and guitar music, coloring the air with excitement.

After
leaving Brendan in his chamber, I had searched for the lost beauty I wanted to
see again. I imagined that her name was Angel, or Heaven or something equally
absurd but just as fitting. I didn’t see the lady, but I did see some ladies.
Different hair, different dresses, same smiles and faces all seemed to blend
together as the dolls curtseyed and waved at me with desperate smirks on their
pretty mouths.

I
nodded politely to every woman who doted attention upon me, but none of them
did anything to keep my interest. One brave fair-haired lady wearing a sparkly
blue dress walked toward me. As “let-down” excuses twirled in my brain, I heard
someone running behind me and turned just in time to see Jadorion’s curls
bouncing up and down.

“My
Lord! I’ve been looking everywhere for ye!” Jadorion exclaimed as he
practically ran over me. “Yourn not going to be very happy…” his voice trailed
off as he paused to catch his breath that reeked of fish.

I
grabbed Jadorion by the shoulders and gave him a proper shaking. “Jadorion!
Have ye already been eating? What have I told ye about raiding the kitchen
before supper? Yourn really going to put Chef Morgan in a fit. What’s the
matter that ye have to run through the glorious festivities, instead of walking
like a proper gentleman?”

Jadorion
hung his head, then looked up sadly at me with his big brown eyes and said, “My
Lord, yourn horse has fallen. Marshal Phil thinks his leg is broken.”

“What?”
I didn’t wait for Jadorion to answer; I turned and ran like a fool to the
stable, nearly colliding with the woman in the blue dress. I paused briefly to
excuse myself, and then hurried on like a loon.

 My
horse, Glory, had been with me since I was a boy – nearly fifteen years. I knew
he hadn’t been doing well, but I had at least expected him to last through the
tournament.

I
knocked down several people in my haste, forgetting where the black-haired
beauty had got off to. I had a black-haired horse to attend to now, and he
would have all of my focus and attention for the next while.

Upon
reaching the stable, an eerie feeling overcame me, like I was being watched. I
looked around but saw no one. I pulled open the grey weatherworn gate and saw
my trusty steed lying on a pile of fragrant, fresh hay.

“He’s
not going to make it my Lord,” Phil Briderman, the stable marshal, softly spoke
from the corner of the room. “He’s just too old.”

I
looked at Phil, his own gray hair hanging around his dark face, and said,
“Afternoon Marshal. Let me at least say fare-thee-well.”

“Shorn
ye can, my boy.” Phil was carving a bird out of a piece of wood and didn’t seem
to really care about anything else going on. He was truly focused when it came
to projects and details.

The
stable didn’t smell as delicious as the courtyard had but the stench of manure
mixed with sweet hay reminded me of childhood. Brendan and I would help Phil
clean the stalls in return for fencing lessons. Phil had been a great fighter
until he had been injured at a tournament.

I
slowly walked toward Glory. He raised his head toward me then put it back down,
as if to say “I’m done”. His black eyes watched me as I walked toward him. I
knelt by his head and petted his poll. It was as if he knew that I was there to
wish him well; he lied still and let me stroke his bristly crest.

My
horse and I had been through countless battles together. He had several scars
from swords and other weapons striking him. He had been valiant and never given
in, even during our bleakest moment at the battle of Trenton where we were two
of only eighteen who returned, bloody and scarred. Glory had more or less
dragged me home.

“Quel
beau cheval,” a soft and feminine voice cut through my reminiscence. “May I bid
thee what’s wrong?”

I
looked up quickly since women typically stayed clear of the barn; I was
startled by what I saw. Standing before me was the amazing creature from the
morning services. I quickly stood to my feet and offered a bow. As I lowered my
head to the ground, I wondered what the lovely lady had said in a tongue I did
not know.

She
hurried to my side, bringing a welcome intoxicating smell of roses with her,
put her small hand on my arm and exclaimed, “I pray, do not stand for me! It’s
clear that thy horse needs thee. I’m sorry to intrude; I was merely passing by
and saw a sad sight through the open door.”

The
beautiful raven-haired lady knelt next to my fading horse. She put her dainty
hand on Glory’s mane and began humming a song in such a lovely way. It brought
warmth and peace to every part of my body and made my mind feel pleasantly
numb. The song seemed to paralyze all in the room; especially the horse.

Glory
whinnied softly. He seemed to relax under her touch. I sat next to them and
watched with wonder. The still nameless lady grabbed my hand in hers and
pressed it to Glory’s forehead. He let out one last sigh and didn’t take
another breath.

“No!”
I cried out and threw myself on top of him. I was pretty sure it wasn’t a manly
thing to do in the presence of the lady, but she seemed to be handling the
situation accordingly and in my grief I didn’t really give her too much
thought. Well…maybe a little more than I would ever admit.

Phil
huffed, as if it irritated him to put down his artwork. He stood, gently
setting his bird on the bench, limping toward us with his hand outstretched
toward me. “Now, Sir Tristen, get up. That’s hardly a respectable way to hold
thyself in front of a lady.”

“Sir
Tristen?” The goddess asked with the most astonished look on her face that I
had ever seen. She raised a long-nailed hand to her forehead to swipe a strand
of delicate hair from her face.

“Aye.
That’s me.” I stood, with Phil’s forceful help. “Hast thou heard of me?” I
stared into her most perfect face, hoping she had heard brilliant stories of my
most amazing battles.

I
watched her perfect ruby lips which unjustly hid a glorious set of teeth: “No,
I haven’t heard of thee.” From the way she had jumped back, and her face had
fallen, I could tell she was obviously lying. Before I could question her
further, she stood quickly and turned toward the door. “I must go!”

“Wait
miss! I pray, tell me thy name!” My voice sounded exactly as I felt; I was
begging her to tell me. Marshal Phil’s smirk said he was having a heyday
watching me make toast of myself but at this point I couldn’t keep living
without knowing the angel’s name.

She
stopped, turned slightly to gaze at me with her piercing green eyes, and said,
“Sir Tristen, my name is Vivian Lattsgale. I’m sure we’ll meet again.
Fare-thee-well.”

I
watched her slight curtsey as she turned, leaving me standing with my mouth
hanging. Phil asked me about my plans for the tournament now that I didn’t have
a horse. I didn’t answer him, all I could do was wonder how I would meet Vivian
again.

After
giving a proper farewell to my long-time friend, Glory, I wandered the grounds
looking for Jadorion. I needed my squire to find a horse for me. I wasn’t too
confident riding in a tournament without knowing the horse I was riding, but I
felt in my heart that I could still do my best on an unfamiliar animal.

Jadorion
was absolutely nowhere to be found. Regrettably, my father was.

“Tristen!
Where in the dickens hast thou been? I’ve been looking for ye much too long!
Thou art going to ruin this day for thy brother.” Ladislas stormed toward me
with his black furs trailing him. Sweat beads lined his brow. “The parade is
over! We must begin the tournament! It’s getting late in the day.”

“Well,
your majesty, why not begin the tournament without me? Thou hast the authority
to do that. Besides, I was tending to my horse that just passed away.” I walked
past my father without so much as stopping. I felt bad I had missed the parade
but it was necessary for the respect of Glory’s memory.

Ladislas
turned to follow me, sweat dripping from his face despite the cold. “If thy
horse just died, what art thou going to ride?” He grabbed my arm and pulled me
to him, “Walk not away from me, Tristen. I’m the king and I’m speaking to
thee!”

I
shook his large hand from my arm, “Ye may be the king, but thou art a fool!” I
stared directly into his empty, hollow eyes. “I could slay thee and not care,
father!” I spit at him.

For
a brief moment, a slight look of hurt washed across his face. The look boiled-over
as his open hand connected with my cheek. He growled, “How dare ye speak to me
that way! Find a horse and get to the tournament grounds immediately! I will
not have ye embarrass me on such a happy occasion.” He turned and stomped
toward my blond-haired, blue-eyed mother, who I had not noticed before now.
Always silent, her gaze toward me spoke concern, but she quickly grabbed my
father’s arm gently touching his cheek as if trying to alleviate the sting in
my face through his. He pulled away from her, nearly knocking her to the ground
and continued his speedy stride, leaving her to follow his cold trail. She
turned back to stare at me with worried pools of blue light; the grief in her
face nearly crippled me. I wanted to comfort her but I knew that she couldn’t
allow it, not from me.

The
anger churned deep inside of me. Since I was a kiddle my father had always
treated my mother poorly. He never respected her, just used her like a whore.
He told her that she was lucky to be his wife and that most women would give up
their lungs to be with him. She never argued, but something in her face told me
that she just wanted to get away from him. Her beauty had been her curse; my
father had paid her father, King of Imbodia, a huge dowry for her.

A
whinny startled me. I turned around to see Jadorion standing with his long
fingers tightly clenching a fat rope. At the end of the rope was a bright white
horse hiding under protective armor. Jadorion was grinning.

“I
knew Glory wouldn’t be able to ride the tourney, so I was out fetchin’ ye a new
pony.” I didn’t know what else to do but grab Jadorion and hug him in the most
manly way I could; a pat.

“Ye
saved me, my squire. Grammarcy. Now let’s win this tourney!” I mounted my
familiar saddle that Jadorion had secured. Brendan was right; Jad was going to
be a great squire.

“His
name is ‘Flash’!” Jadorion called after me as I quickly rode away. It
momentarily occurred to me that I should have asked where the horse came from,
but I figured Jadorion knew enough people in the village that he had found
someone willing to help. I could tell right away that Flash weighed a lot less
than Glory. That could either help or hurt me depending on whether or not I hit
the ground. But today I wasn’t planning on that happening.

The
first thing I noticed when I arrived at the “Lists”, or tournament grounds, was
the large amount of participants, suited up and ready to go. The second was
that one of the riders was my brother, wearing his new armor. Fury arose inside
of me; he wasn’t supposed to ride in this tournament. Being awake and
unnourished for the amount of time he had been was not conducive to the amount
of physical work a tournament required. I made my way toward him but was
stopped by my father who was looking directly at me, shaking his head. His
waving hand beckoned me toward him. I wanted to pretend I didn’t see him but he
knew I had.

I
rode Flash toward the stands where my father stood, looking like a rat in his
fur coat and matching pointed fur cap. I found it odd he was still dressed for
winter when everyone else wore lighter clothes, perhaps hoping it may hurry
spring along. “Tristen, don’t even stop him. He wants to do it so let him. I
see ye found a horse; good for thee.” 

“Father,
ye realize it’s not safe for Brendan to ride in the condition he’s in, correct?
Besides, the joust is not his best event. He excels at the sword events.”

“Button
it, Tristen!” Ladislas abruptly interrupted me. “Thy brother has been trained
by the best knights in my kingdom. He wants to ride and he will be just fine.
Now stop your pious whining and get your ass out there. Try not to embarrass
the family.” He turned his back and walked toward my smiling mother, who glowed
like a radiant queen. She made sure my father wasn’t looking at her and gave me
a wink.

I
called after my pathetic father, “Your majesty?
I
trained thy precious
boy. Who best to judge his ability?” Before subjecting myself to further
lecture, I turned to find my squire, nearly trampling over him; he was right
next to me.

“Her
highness asked me to give ye this. She said it’ll bring ye luck.” Jadorion
handed me a black feather. I smiled and tucked it under my tunic. Jadorion had
a handful of handkerchiefs and scarves. “Many lovely ladies offered these as
well. I tried to remember all of their names but there were just too many. They
bid ye ride for them.”

“Pft.
I will ride for my mother.” Then a thought struck me, “Per chance, did a small,
angel-looking lady with long gorgeous black hair and ruby lips, give ye any of
those cloths?”

“Nope.
I would like to believe I’d be ‘membrin’ someone like her. I can’t tell ye how
happy it makes me that ye took interest in a female though, Sir!” Jadorion
grabbed the reins and lead Flash to a bright yellow pavilion where my armor
waited. I felt slighted by his comment but more disappointed that my fair
maiden hadn’t made a gesture toward me. I knew that Miss Vivian had said we
would meet again and I hung on to hope that she meant sooner rather than later.
In the meantime, I reminded myself for the third time today that I desperately
needed to schedule grammar lessons with the monks for Jadorion.

I
looked around the square arena that was formed by four wooden grandstands. A
guard tower hugged each corner of the stands. Armed officiates gathered in the
open towers to watch for cheating or other unsportsmanlike conduct. A long
fence cut the earthen floor of the area in half. My half, and my victim’s half,
as I preferred to call it.

Jadorion
and another taller, brown-haired squire, Phinus, helped cover me with armor pieces.
A long jousting lance was pressed into my gauntlet covered hand as I prepared
to ride against Sir Knight Lugina from Luttginna.

I
had never heard of Sir Knight Lugina and had no idea what to expect. The
tournament’s great prize brought riders from many lands, making it impossible
for me to know all of the knights. Surprise burned my eyes when I turned to
glare down my opponent. He seemed quite small. Confidence extinguished my
surprise as calm washed over me. I stopped doubting my ability against such a
wee rider.

“Ye
can easily take down this teeny bloke!” Jadorion laughed and poked Phinus, who
snorted. I smiled behind my helmet.

“Riders
ready!” A brightly dressed herald harked from the southwest tower.

Both
the little man and I poised our ready. I stared down the way at my victim and
confidence swelled inside my already sweaty chest. The herald delivered a
heavy, “Charge!”

Preparing
to deliver an ass-whooping, I kicked Flash slightly in the flank. He did
charge; straight toward Sir Knight Lugina, who was speedily headed our
direction. I aimed my lance as low as I could as we raced at each other.

I
was confident I would teach Sir Knight Lugina a lesson! Grinning, I pushed
forward hearing crashing splinters shatter the cheers of the crowd. Suddenly it
seemed as if I was under water. Everything moved in slow motion. As I stared at
the faces of the audience, I felt confused and distant. Sir Knight Lugina’s
squire appeared before me. He grabbed Flashes reins and squinted his eyes at
me, with a smirk. As things began to speed up again and my senses seemed to
flood back, it occurred to me that my helmet was molded tightly around my head.

“What…the…blazes!”
I choked, hurling my crushed helmet to the ground. Jadorion ran toward me,
wearing an astonished and concerned look on his face; he knew I had never been
hit in a tournament.

“My
lord? Ye breathin’?” Jadorion picked up my helmet as he took Flash’s reigns
from the unknown squire. The squire immediately headed the direction of Sir
Knight Lugina who was heading back to his post.

“What
in blazes just happened?” I demanded, wiping sweat from my brow…then examining
my hand to make sure it was in fact sweat. I sighed when I realized I was
bleeding from my forehead.

Jadorion
shook his head as he handed me a piece of cloth. “Well, ye got smashed in the
face.”

“Did
I, Jad? Art thou sure? Any other uncommon knowledge thou would like to offer?”
I paused, glaring down my new squire. “What did he do to my face, dunderhead?
Were thou not watching?” I held the rag to the wound on my forehead as I looked
around the arena at the many townspeople suffering the sun to watch the foray.

“Oh
sure, I was watching. He aimed low until the last second and raised his lance
high toward yourn face.” Jadorion hammered out the gash in my helmet but
refused to look at me. He was obviously hurt by my remarks, but I was too angry
for kindness. The lad needed to learn what to watch for in a tournament; he
would be fighting his own one day.

“Grammarcy,
Jad. That’s what I needed to know. Now give me the helmet and let’s go for
round two.” I tore a piece from Jadorion’s cloth and wrapped it tightly around
my wound. I couldn’t risk the chance of going blood-blind.

Gripping
the reins with white knuckles, I guided Flash to the direction of the knight.
Sir Lugina’s small body sat astride a brown horse, patiently waiting for me to
compose myself. It was slightly eerie the way he simply waited; not speaking to
his squire or even taking his helmet off for water. I glanced at my mother. She
seemed nervous and worried. My father, who was sitting next to her, intently
watched the
other
knight.

I
put my hand in the air to signal that I was ready. We charged toward each
other; this time I was prepared to take his arse right off the horse. However,
something crazy happened. As I raced toward him, I felt all the air escape my
lungs causing me to lean forward against Flash. My lance and shield seemed to
weigh one hundred pounds each and I dropped them as I struggled to stay atop my
horse.

Flash
stopped at the side of the arena. Little amused faces gazed at me in disbelief.
I observed them but could hear nothing. Fighting for air, my only thought was
that I had to stay on my horse or be disqualified.

Jadorion
led Flash to the back of a stall where Brendan was leaning against the dry,
splintered wood of the stadium.

“Get
him off the horse!” Brendan demanded of Jadorion.

I
could only stare at him since the life hadn’t returned to my lungs. Brendan
grabbed my feet and tugged at my boots. I pressed them as hard as I could
against the horse but fell to his right side. Jadorion guided me to the ground.

“Yourn
loony, Sir Brendan!” Jadorion uttered. “He’ll be disqualified.”

“He’ll
be dead,” Brendan exclaimed. “He’s in no condition to finish this!”

“What
in blazes art thou doing?” I gasped, trying to push myself from the ground.

“I’m
going to ride thy last ride, brother.” Brendan matter-of-factly told me as
Jadorion helped him onto Flash’s back.

I
was too weak to argue. I lay meekly on the ground while Brendan towed himself
atop the horse and rode away as quickly as he could. He knew he couldn’t be
seen or I would be disqualified. I knew I should have been upset and tried
harder to stop my brother, but I could barely move; my ribcage felt like it had
imploded.

The
sun beat down on me through a small window in the stall. I felt like I was
melting away. I smelled bad; like I had died and I waited for the vultures to
circle above me. I had never been hit, let alone taken down, in a tournament.
For a few moments I almost felt bad for everyone I had ever knocked down. I
quickly snapped back to reality when I figured it was better them than me.

The
crowd cheered and yelled. Suddenly a loud “AW!” pierced the air, then complete
silence. I wondered what had happened, but hoped my brother had won. I knew I
couldn’t be seen because I was supposed to be on a horse; however, I was
curious to know what had immediately hushed the fans.