Rise of the Defender (70 page)

     “I have no knowledge, sire,” Ralph lied.
“We will have to ask him to clarify his statement when the joust is finished.”

     Dustin was shaking with fury and confusion
and Marcus reached out to pat her arm. He and Edward exchanged disgusted
glances, each man knowing exactly what the knight had meant. Had Christopher
heard it, there would be French guts spilled out all over the ground.

     The tournament marshal took the field,
looking at both competitors to make sure they were ready. A hush settled over
the crowd and Dustin's palms began to sweat terribly. She wanted to cover her
eyes but could not seem to lift her hands. The stands grew quieter and quieter
until it seemed that all she could hear was the scream of the hawk riding the
drafts high above the arena and she wondered vaguely if it were a bad omen.

     Dustin closed her eyes a brief second,
fighting off her lurching stomach. She swore at that moment that if Christopher
survived, she would make him promise never to compete in a tourney again. She
simply could not take the terror it provoked, excitement be damned.

     The marshal dropped the flag and Dustin's
heart surged into her throat as she watched her husband and Dennis charge at
one another like rolling thunder, poles leveling out as they closed the gap.
Dustin's fingers flew to her mouth and she bit hard to keep from screaming,
seeing the two mailed and colored knights come together in a scream of wood and
metal, horse and man. Yet a split second before their poles collided with one
another, she saw her husband jerk sideways in the saddle and then came a
thunderous, shattering crash.

     Christopher's whole body snapped like a
rag-doll from the force of the blow, but he remained seated as his destrier
came to a halt at the end of the run. The crowd let up a collective groan and
rose to their feet, concerned for their newly-returned hero. Dustin shrieked as
Marcus and Edward shot angrily to stand.

     “Damnation!” Marcus shouted. “He brought
that pole to bear on Chris' head.”

     Edward furiously agreed. “Had he not ducked
when he did, he would have had his head torn off.”

     “Jesus, his shoulder must be broken from
that blow,” Marcus raged. “How does he look, Edward?”

     Edward was standing at the end of the
platform, scrutinizing Christopher closely. His liege seemed to have righted
himself adequately, but he could see that his left shoulder was bleeding
through the mail.

     “He shall live,” Edward said reluctantly,
turning back to his seat. “But that shoulder is going to need attention.”

     Dustin was still seated, her hands folded
at her mouth and her huge gray eyes full of tears. Marcus gazed down at her,
realizing they must have terrified her further with their shouting.

     “He's fine, Dustin,” he said softly,
sitting beside her. “Another pass and he shall have the bastard on his arse.”

     She shook her head and closed her eyes,
wiping at the tears as quickly as they fell and trying hard to be brave. “I
know,” she said with courage she did not feel.

     The field marshal and a few other officials
were conversing with Christopher and they could see his head nodding faintly.
John turned to gaze at Dustin, his eyes grazing over her.

     “I do hope your husband is well enough to
continue,” he said. “'Twould be a shame to lose de Lohr. The competition
wouldn't be the same without him.”

     Dustin looked hard at the prince, sick and
tired of his deceptions and games. “Why do you offer me such bold-faced lies?
You hate my husband and would like nothing better than to see him dead.”

     Only Dustin and her forthright manner could
get away with such blatant disrespect. John's eyes widened with feigned
surprise.

     “How untrue, Lady de Lohr,” he insisted. “I
greatly respect your husband and his skills. To lose him would be to lose the
Defender of the Realm and leave us all vulnerable.”

     Dustin's face twitched with fury. “You are
a liar, my lord, and a disgrace to the crown,” she snapped. “I should have
listened to my husband when he told me to stay away from you.”

     Ralph turned on her savagely. “Any more from
your mouth, madam, and I throw you in the dungeons for blasphemy.”

     Marcus and Edward were up, preparing to rip
Ralph joint from joint but John put up a quelling hand. “Sit down, everyone, or
I shall have you all removed.” His hand fell limply to the arm of the chair.
“Emotions are high, especially with an injured comrade, which is why I forgive
Lady de Lohr her words. Look, now; the marshal is moving to centerfield.”

     Dustin, her beautiful face dark, sunk back
into her chair as Marcus and Edward regained their seats. The whole day had
been draining on her and it wasn't even noon yet, she could not even fathom
what the afternoon might hold.

     Dustin wasn't mentally prepared when the
marshal dropped his flag. Christopher and Sir Dennis stormed toward each other
with a deafening roar, shafts leveling out, and Dustin tried to close her eyes
but could not manage the action. She could only stare, frozen in her seat,
waiting for what would happen next.

     Two glancing blows and naught else
occurred. With the next pass, Christopher broke his shaft and took his
brother's as a replacement. As he handled the heavy pole, Marcus and Edward
glanced at each other over Dustin's head, silent words acknowledging that their
liege was definitely favoring his left shoulder.

     The crowd's feelings were rising and
falling like waves upon the shore, and Dustin’s emotions with them. Every time
Christopher made it through a pass unharmed, she whispered a prayer to God that
his next one would be as successful. It was completely maddening and
frustrating and she was so sick to her stomach that she thought she might
vomit, but she didn't want to leave the lists. As much as she was terrified to
watch, she knew there was no other place she would rather be.

     At the other end of the field, Sir Dennis
switched from his crow's foot shaft to a spear-tipped one. Marcus saw the
exchange and his body went stiff with fury.

     “Damnation,” he spit, then turned to see if
Edward had caught the switch. Indeed, Edward had and his golden eyes were wide
with apprehension. In the midst of their anxiety, Dustin suddenly shot to her
feet.

     “He has got a dagger on the end of that
shaft,” she gasped with realization. “He is going to kill Christopher with it.”

     Marcus grabbed her arms and set her down as
the combatants took up position. But Dustin would not be so easily sated.

     “You must stop this!” she said frantically.

     “I cannot,” Marcus said quietly. “'Tis
perfectly legal for Sir Dennis to joust with the spear-tipped shaft.”

     “Like
hell
!” Dustin shot out of her
seat again, thrusting herself forward towards John and Ralph. “Sire, surely you
will not allow your champion to compete with a blade on the end of his pole?”

     John looked amused with her terror. “My
lady, 'tis painfully obvious that you have never been to a tournament before.
Until a year or two ago, spear-tipped shafts were the only type used in a
joust. The crow's foot tip is very new.”

     Dustin looked back at the prince in
disbelief, her eyes trailing to the field helplessly as the competitors
prepared for their run. The field marshal raised his flag and with the drop,
the destriers sprang into a rumbling gallop.

     Dustin could not move. It took all of her
concentration to stand there and watch, her breath caught in her throat and her
heart quivering in her chest as her husband and the prince's champion raced
toward each other at break-neck speed. Behind her, the crowd slowly rose to
their feet in anticipation of what was to surely come.

     When it happened, it happened too fast for
the human eye to comprehend. The shafts came down and suddenly there was a
deafening noise; Sir Dennis went flying from his destrier as if unseen hands
had thrown him. Dustin's heart soared until she saw a split second later that
Christopher, his destrier gored by the 12 foot shaft, go down hard enough to
shake the ground. Dust and chunks of earth spewed into the air and before she
could react, Marcus and Edward flew from the lists and were racing across the
arena.

     Dustin was in shock. In fact, almost the
entire lists were rushing onto the field. Even Ralph had jumped from the
platform and was running toward the mass of people, all swarming around the two
competitors. The arena turned into a boiling pot of knights and officials and
she completely lost sight of her husband and his horse.

     The crowd in the lists was loud with their
concerns, but Dustin could not hear them. It was as if she were locked in her
own little world, her entire life hanging on what was happening out on the dirt
in front of her. She tried to pick out her husband's knights, any familiar
head, but there were so many men in armor that it was impossible to single out
any one person. She could hear shouting and see all sorts of movement
surrounding her husband and his animal.

     “My, my.” Prince John was standing beside her,
shielding his eyes from the glare of the weak sun as he gazed out on the field.
“Quite a finish to an exciting bout. I do hope everyone is all right.”

     Dustin could not even manage a retort. Her
mind was like mud. Before she realized it, she was descending the stairs and
making her way across the field like a woman hypnotized. She saw nothing, heard
nothing, her focus entirely on where she last saw her husband. The honor guard
that Christopher had left in charge of her broke rank and began to follow, wondering
if they should prevent her from going any further. Yet they did not, instead,
acting as an escort and shoving people out of her way as she went. Dustin
didn't even notice their assistance.

     Sir Dennis' men managed to get him back on
his feet. He was several feet to her right, quite shaken as he leaned on his
comrades for support. Dustin snapped out of her trance long enough to stare him
down with a look of completely loathing. He didn't see her as he was helped
from the field.

     She pushed into a crowd of knights and
suddenly the legs of Christopher's horse became visible through the crowd.
Seized with anguish, she tried to shove her way further but was grabbed with
large, firm hands.

     “Lady de Lohr.” It was an older knight, his
visor raised and his face coated with perspiration. “I am Lord Lyle Hampton,
Earl of Canterbury. Certainly there are better places for you to be than out
here on a dirty field. Please allow me to escort….”

     Dustin jerked away from him roughly. “I
would see my husband.”

     The earl eyed the sergeant of the escort as
he grasped Dustin again, more firmly this time. “I understand completely, my
lady,” he said gently, “but it would be much better if you wait in the lists to
see your husband.”

     “Nay!” she screamed. “Let me go or I shall
scratch your eyes out.”

     Lord Hampton, fortunately, was a man of
even temper, having three daughters of his own. He was a friend of
Christopher’s and also a friend of Christopher’s uncle, Sir Philip. Christopher
had pointed Dustin proudly out to the earl before the competition, which was
how the earl knew who the lovely lady was on sight. And he also knew without a
doubt that she should not be here.

     “As you wish, my lady,” he said, holding
her with an iron grip. “But it will have to wait. We must get you out of this
dirt. Sergeant, your help would be appreciated.”

     The sergeant-at-arms gripped Dustin’s other
arm and between he and the earl, were able to direct her back toward the
stands. But Dustin would have no part of it and turned into a wild animal. She
slugged the earl in the nose, drawing blood, before she turned like a banshee
on the sergeant and kicked him in a weak point in the armor by his groin. Free
for the moment, she grabbed her skirts and tore through the crowds of knights
and men, knowing her greatest advantage was the fact that men in armor lack
decent balance and are not quick on their feet. With enough shoving, she knew
she could throw them off enough to reach Christopher.

     As she rounded a particularly tall bank of
knights, she caught sight of Edward's head and she screamed his name loudly. At
the sound of his name, Edward whirled around and rushed to her as she moved
toward him. He snatched her firmly around the torso and she twisted and punched
him.

     “Let me go!” She fought Edward with every
ounce of strength she possessed. “Where is Christopher?”

     Edward was having a devil of a time holding
onto her. “Come on, Dustin,” he said, grunting when she elbowed him in the gut.
“Let’s get you back to the lists.”

     “I will not,” she shrieked. “What happened
to my husband? Is he dead?”

     “Nay, he's not dead,” he said, getting a
better grip on her when she relaxed a bit. Mayhap if he was honest with her she
would stop fighting so much. As it was, she had no idea what was transpiring
with her husband and was understandably terrified. “He’s trapped under his
horse, Dustin. They are trying to free him now.”