Royal Dynasty: Fire Song Part 16

Fenice's fingers moved steadily, drawing the almost invisible thread back and forth across the rent with such fine st.i.tches that the closure seemed no more coa.r.s.e than an occasional thick thread in the weaving. No, Eleanor was not cruel, Fenice knew, thus, she did not expect Aubery to be hurt, and she did expect Fenice to be present and to take pride in her husband's achievements. Fenice closed her eyes and swallowed. Aubery would expect her to take pride in him also. He had been pleased with her in Bayonne. She had survived that fear, she would survive this also.

Actually, Aubery had not forgotten Fenice. The arrangement with the queen had been made when it was decided that Aubery as well as the great lords who had come as proxies for the king and the Earl of Cornwall would attend Edward through the preknighting ceremonies. Aubery had a.s.sumed Eleanor had already explained to Fenice that she would be staying at the castle that night. He was, as he had been at Bayonne, torn between relief and an odd disappointment that Fenice made no exclamations or pa.s.sionate farewells, since she would not see him again until after the jousts. She could at least have wished him good fortune, he thought with a touch of resentment.

Then, as he entered Edward's chamber at the tail end of the procession of notables, the prince called out to him and asked if he, too, would not bathe so that candidate and champion would be more at one in purity. Aubery agreed at once and then suggested that he also stand the vigil with Edward. This offer was enthusiastically accepted by the prince but called forth an argument by John de Warrenne, who was concerned that a sleepless night might interfere with Aubery's fighting ability. Aubery shook his head and smiled. Edward insisted that the strength of spirit his champion would gain from the religious exercise and from the blessings of G.o.d and the saints would more than compensate for the fatigue of the vigil.

No one liked to contradict the prince's faith, so the matter was decided. In fact, Aubery was glad of it. He felt uplifted by the ritual cleansing, the solemn ride through darkened streets, lit only by flaring torches, to the great unfinished cathedral. There was a grand mystery, a true feeling of the awesome power of G.o.d in the black nave, stretching endlessly upward, in the echoing silence of the huge building that closed in upon Edward and himself when the others withdrew. But the small, flickering light of the lamp that burned on the great altar was, to Aubery, a symbol of the other face of G.o.d, the warm kindliness that would not leave a man alone in the dark with fear. The little yellow light, warm and homely, was like a murmur of comfort all through the dark hours until dawn, an a.s.surance that G.o.d and His saints were near and protective.

Sir Savin was also awake through much of the night, but the low mutters that pa.s.sed his lips were not prayers. He had pretended to drink heavily throughout the feast, and when the end of the entertainment was signaled by the rising of King Alfonso and Queen Eleanor, Savin had staggered away to his bed, casting himself down on it fully clothed. When the others who shared his quarters were settled and quiet, he had pretended to retch and had risen, mumbling drunkenly, as if he were seeking the privy.

During the two days in which Aubery had been sightseeing and enjoying the company of his wife, Sir Savin had been more seriously occupied, investigating the armory, smithy, and storage sheds of the palace. Thus, once outside, he made his way with complete sureness to the sheds where the lances prepared for the jousts were stored. There he paused, looked around, and sighed with relief. Although he had made a careful investigation on previous nights and determined that no one slept in the vicinity, there was always the chance that on the night before the tourney the armorers would be working late, but here in the palace there had been plenty of time to prepare, so all was quiet.

Savin took from his belt pouch a stub of candle and flint and tinder for lighting. Then s.h.i.+elding the small glow, he moved toward the racks of lances. Just where he had seen them were the two fine banner lances, those specially prepared for the English and Castilian champions to use in the first joust. Each was of strong, straight ashwood, polished smooth. Near its specially blunted head was the banner of the bearer. Sir Savin smiled and reached for the lance on which a crimson pennon was affixed. When the lance was fewtered, the pennon would hang down, showing the three golden leopards of England.

Slowly and carefully he worked the metal head loose from the shaft and removed the banner. These he laid carefully aside so that no earth or straw would sully the bright metal tip or gay pennon. He blew out the candle. It was a nuisance to have to relight it each time, but he was taking no chances that some restless soul would see the light. He made his way to a second shed. Here were stored the training lances. They, too, were straight and the same length but with no metal heads and made of more brittle, less resilient wood, not so carefully polished. Savin had spent considerable time in this second shed, examining each lance until he found one that nearly matched the ashwood shaft he had brought with him. He had moved that one to the very top of the pile and marked the b.u.t.t so he could not mistake it.

As Savin expected, the shaft he had chosen lay where he left it. He felt the scratches on the b.u.t.t, but nonetheless lit his candle again and compared the two. Then, having removed one at a time half a dozen shafts, he buried the good ash lance in the pile. Once more, before he returned, he killed the flame on the candle. Mumbling curses, he lit it a third time and began to polish the rough shaft. While Aubery prayed for strength enough to bring honor to his prince and England, Savin patiently smoothed the wood to match the lance that carried the colors of Castile.

When he was finished, he replaced the banner and the blunted head. He pushed it down hard on the tapered end of the shaft but did not fix it there. If the head came loose on impact, so much the better. Last of all, he worked on the head of the lance bearing the colors of Castile. He could not restore the point in full for fear someone would notice, but by the time his work was done he was sure the head would penetrate easily enough with no opposing pressure to diminish the force with which it struck.

Chapter Twenty-One.

The slow hours pa.s.sed. Accustomed to night watches, Aubery slipped now and again into a waking doze, not so sound a sleep that he would fall off his feet or off the cus.h.i.+on on which he knelt when he was tired of standing, but still a form of rest. Twice he became aware that Edward was wavering and touched him gently. Each time the prince recovered at once and smiled gratefully at him. At last, the altar flame began to dim as light grayed the great windows of the cathedral.

When pink streaks began to lend warmth to the earliest gray of dawn, the sound of chanting marked the end of the vigil. The procession of canons came solemnly through the nave, enveloped in the scent of incense from the swinging golden censers. Following them were the bishops and archbishop. The ma.s.s was sung, Aubery listening as devoutly as at his own knighting. Then, to honor the English, Boniface, Archbishop of Canterbury, took the place of the Castilian prelate and gave the sermon. As usual, he urged the candidate for knighthood to be pure, honest, and faithful, to protect the Church, widows, orphans, and all who were desolate and oppressed. But his final words were a reading from the Old Testament: "Blessed be the Lord G.o.d who formeth my hands for battle and my fingers for war. He is my salvation. He is my refuge. He setteth me free."

Aubery liked the intent expression on Edward's face as he listened. It was thoughtful rather than exalted. The prince was young and somewhat spoiled, Aubery knew, but he hoped that time and experience would wear that away. By nature Edward seemed essentially serious and practical, not given to wild enthusiasms and bitter reactions like his father. It would be a relief to have a king with a steady purpose, and then, horrified by his thoughts, which implied Henry's eventual death, he concentrated on the blessing being given.

Both sermon and blessing were brisk. That was Archbishop Boniface's manner, but it suited Aubery's mood also. It was somehow an appropriate bridge between the immense, slow, spiritual thoughts of the night and the lively business of the coming day.

In Edward's chambers they broke their fast substantially and on a large variety of delicious dishes, most of them unfamiliar to Aubery. Then the prince's squires helped Aubery to arm. There was none of the usual fumbling as inexperienced boys tried to seem a.s.sured in the handling of new armor. Edward's squires were all older, nearly ripe for knighthood themselves, all young men of the proudest families in England, who had transferred from the king's household to his son's.

These young n.o.blemen were not accustomed to demeaning themselves with the arming of a simple knight, but as the prince's champion, Aubery was temporarily worthy. Also, although none would admit it, they were all impressed by Aubery. The king's squires were well taught but had seen little actual combat. Thus, Aubery's well-used arming tunic, which, though it had been washed clean as possible, showed dark stains of old blood and patches where blades had torn it, and his battle-scarred body awed them. The cuirie, too, bore marks of combat, and the stiff leather had been worn so often, so often soaked with sweat and dried on Aubery's body, that it seated itself around him, molded by usage. His hauberk had been polished to a high s.h.i.+ne, but close examination showed its rings had been broken and reworked many times.

On any other occasion, the wealthy young squires might have turned up their noses, a.s.sociating stains and patches with poverty, but they knew that Aubery had been offered all new armor of the same quality given to Edward, and he had refused to wear it. He had told Alfonso himself quite simply that he would be grateful for the gift but would fight better in his old, accustomed gear. Of course, his s.h.i.+eld was new, but he had carried that from Bayonne, carefully covered so that the colors of England freshly painted on it would not be dulled or scratched, and he was now used to the weight and feel of it.

Edward hovered around, watching eagerly, his eyes envious, and Aubery shook his head at him and laughed. "Do not expect great acts of heroism," he warned. "It would ill befit this joyous occasion if I should put down the champion of Castile or he me. Our first pa.s.ses will be no more than formal."

"Is that what you think?" Edward asked, bristling.

"It is what I have been told," Aubery responded.

"But is it the truth?" the prince insisted. "We would look fools, indeed, if the champion of England were overthrown in the first exchange."

"Do you have some reason to believe King Alfonso so lacking in honor?" Aubery asked very quietly.

Edward shrugged. "He challenged our right to Gascony. He supported Gaston de Bearn, who had returned my father's kindness with insult and rebellion. I do not say it is so, only that you should be wary."

"That is very wise," Aubery agreed.

He spoke quickly, hoping to end a conversation he felt to be unwise in the circ.u.mstances. The prince had not spoken loudly, and those closest to them were Edward's own squires. But there were Castilian servants in the room. Aubery did not think Alfonso would wish to infuriate his proud young brother-by-marriage and dishonor himself by tricking the English champion into a fall, but he was certain the servants were ordered to listen and report. There was little chance they would hear anything of grave importance in the fifteen-year-old prince's rooms, but even small tidbits might be useful.

Despite Aubery's quick agreement, Edward seemed disposed to continue the discussion, but at that point de Warrenne, de Lacy, and Archbishop Boniface entered. They looked with approval at Aubery and Edward and indicated that all was ready below for the act of dubbing Edward knight. As two of Edward's squires gathered up the prince's arms and armor and others took Aubery's s.h.i.+eld, now displaying the prince's colors and his tilting helm, garnished with Edward's crest, Aubery realized that not one of the n.o.bles of long, high lineage was capable of fighting. Everyone with the party was either too old, too young, not physically fit enough, or in holy orders.

For the first time Aubery a.s.sociated that fact with his knowledge that the marriage was not popular in England, where it was felt that the heir to the throne should have been used for a far more important alliance. Few people in England, high or low, cared whether Gascony remained under English domination, and some would have actively preferred to be rid of a province so far distant and seemingly always in a state of revolt that demanded expensive armed expeditions. Now it occurred to Aubery that there might be Castilians who felt England was a poor choice as an ally, or simply those who wished to embarra.s.s or weaken Alfonso.

At this point Aubery shook his head slightly. Neither Alfonso nor any enemy of his could gain anything by enraging the English. The fall of the prince's champion might produce a momentary embarra.s.sment, but it could have no serious or permanent effect on Alfonso's relations.h.i.+p with England or his hold on his country. As for Alfonso's good faith, when Aubery reconsidered, he found he was sure of it. All the tourney arrangements were devised specifically to prevent friction between the English and Castilians.

If a flicker of uneasiness remained in Aubery as they came out of the castle and walked toward the lists, it was dissipated in the pleasure he felt at the sight of the tourney grounds. He had been on many, and surely this was the most lavish. As they entered the grounds, every jongleur who could make music struck or blew his instrument, producing a mighty crash of sound-if not of music. The lodges were already full of brilliantly dressed gentlefolk, who burst into cheers as Edward and his proxy sponsors appeared. Both "music" and cheering accompanied them as they made their way toward the dais upon which King Alfonso waited.

Aubery fell back a little. He had no part in the actual adubment, so he took the opportunity to examine the scene more particularly, and his initial impression was confirmed. The canopies that protected the lodges from sun and wind were of real silk, which, over the central area where the two royal parties would sit, had been specially woven or painted with the royal colors of both houses. There were cus.h.i.+oned chairs for Eleanor and Edward and for Alfonso, his wife, and the little princess. To s.h.i.+eld their feet from the rough boards, precious carpet from the East had been laid down. Fur-lined rugs lay over the backs or arms of the chairs to provide warmth if anyone should be chilled.

As they drew nearer, Aubery looked with interest at the young Eleanor whom he had not before seen. She was only ten, sitting with stiff dignity in a chair too large for her; but when she saw Edward, she smiled with singular sweetness. The pleasure the child felt on seeing her future husband immediately brought Fenice to Aubery's mind, and he searched the area around Queen Eleanor for his wife's face. Accustomed to seeing her on the periphery where the least important were placed, it took him a moment to find her just behind the queen.

There was flash of pleasure in knowing that Fenice's position was owing to the honor bestowed on him rather than to her bond with the queen. There was another when he realized her eyes were fixed on him rather than upon Edward, who was now approaching the platform upon which Alfonso, in the finest armor Aubery had ever seen, awaited him. He could not help smiling at her but returned his eyes hastily to the ceremony taking place when she pressed her fingers to her lips and threw him a kiss-that was not the kind of thing she should be doing in the middle of an event of high seriousness.

The Earl of Warrenne, proxy for King Henry, who was first sponsor for his son, was just rising to his feet after having knelt to affix Edward's golden spurs to his heels. Next, Edmund de Lacy, proxy for Richard of Cornwall, second sponsor, slid over his head the gorgeous hauberk that had been displayed the preceding day and set the helm on his head. Last, one of the chief n.o.blemen of Castile girded on Edward's sword. King Alfonso stepped forward and lifted a clenched fist, ordering, "Bow thy head."

Aubery caught his breath. When Hereford had knighted him, the blow had been a playful, if painful, contest between them, Hereford trying to strike hard enough to send Aubery reeling and Aubery bracing every muscle to withstand the impact without so much as the flicker of an eyelash. Neither had won the contest. Aubery had not been moved from his position, but he had swayed dizzily on his feet and might have staggered a step if Hereford had not quickly embraced him and given him a hearty kiss of peace, also giving him a chance to recover.

It would not have mattered if Aubery had been knocked off the platform or had resisted as firmly as a rock. He and his master knew each other long and loved each other well. For them, blow and response were a game that could have no effect. This stroke, however, was otherwise. If Alfonso knocked Edward down, the consequences might be dire.

The King of Castile had apparently taken Edward's measure very well. The blow was not so light as to be a farce, nor so heavy as to produce an undignified reaction. Edward staggered but recovered himself at once to be embraced and kissed by the king. Alfonso then spoke a few words of exhortation, to which the prince responded by lifting his sword and kissing the ball of the hilt where precious relics had been placed. The crowd burst into cheers, and the jongleurs again made a joyous noise.

Edward turned and called aloud in a voice that fortunately did not break that he appointed Sir Aubery of Ilmer his champion. Aubery moved forward and went down on one knee while the prince gestured to the squire who brought Aubery's s.h.i.+eld and helmet to him. "Rise, Sir Aubery," Edward ordered, "and take from my hand this s.h.i.+eld and helmet." As Aubery lifted the s.h.i.+eld to his shoulder, a herald at arms came forward carrying the lance bearing the English banner. "And take this lance," Edward continued, "with which to defend my honor."

Having gripped the lance, Aubery moved to the side so that Alfonso could repeat the ceremony with his own champion. Aubery looked at the man curiously. It was not easy to judge the weight and musculature of a fully armed man, but Aubery felt they were well matched. Alfonso's man was several inches shorter than Aubery but seemed to make up in breadth what he lacked in height, so that they must be about the same weight. If there were any advantage, Aubery thought, it would be on his side by having an inch or so longer reach. That would mean the tip of his lance might touch Sir Sancho a hairsbreadth sooner and disrupt his aim a trifle.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he was startled by the snort of a horse. He tensed, remembering that the last part of the knighting ceremony, the leap to the saddle of a destrier without touching the stirrups, had not been performed by the prince. Was Aubery supposed to do it? Then he recalled that it had been decided to leave that out altogether.

A squire hurried to his side and took lance and helmet from him. Aubery turned and mounted, catching his reins and winding them around the pommel. Draco s.h.i.+fted restlessly and pawed the ground, half rising on his hind legs in his eagerness. The squire s.h.i.+ed a little, and Aubery growled an order and kneed the horse down. Poor Draco had been eating his head off in the stable and had not been exercised in three days. It was no wonder he was impatient. Aubery smiled as he reached down for his helmet and donned it, then took the lance, setting the b.u.t.t on his foot. There could be few better destriers than Draco.

Both mounted, Aubery and Sir Sancho saluted the royal party with dipped lances. Then, having backed their horses to a proper distance, they saluted each other with the same courtesy. Each then retired to the side of the lists a.s.signed him, and the trumpets and drums began another fanfare. This heralded the parade of jousters who entered in a long double column, riding down the field to the lodges.

Now the ladies seated there went wild, jumping to their feet and shrieking welcome, waving the favors they had prepared, specially embroidered sleeves and stockings, which they threw to their favorites or, if they were far enough down, reached out at great risk of toppling out of the stands to affix personally to the lances lifted toward them. Less provident-or more daring-young women tore off their own veils, pulled the ribbons and nets from their hair, or removed the stockings they were wearing for favors.

Watching, Aubery smiled. They could go pretty far. At exciting tourneys in the summer, he had seen ladies stripped of gloves, girdles, headdresses, stockings-in fact, of everything except their s.h.i.+fts and underdresses. Then Aubery's smile disappeared. He had been offered favors enough, but seldom by a woman who cared for more than the thrill of having a victor carry her token. Aubery glanced quickly toward the lodges. He could not see Fenice's face clearly, but her head was turned in his direction. He raised a hand, and she responded immediately by jumping up and waving her own favor to show she had not bestowed it upon anyone.

Fenice had slept no more than Aubery and had prayed more fervently for his doing well. The prayers, mingling with the murmur of the fire song, had brought her some comfort, and her panic subsided. No device, no matter how clever, could keep Aubery out of the joust-it was too late. It was her duty not to distract him or worry him.

Thus, Fenice, who had never been to a tourney, modeled her behavior on that of the other younger ladies. She wore as fine a gown, she prepared a favor, and once in the lodges she sat forward with what seemed eager expectancy. She painted a smile on her face and a.s.sumed a gaiety of manner. Actually, she was more tense than suffering. Everyone was so excited and so happy that she was catching the feeling herself.

The procession of knights had pa.s.sed the lodges now, and most of the women sank back into their seats, chattering excitedly to each other. A few, like Fenice, watched the riders continue up the field to the end and then divide as each man retired to his side of the lists. Then there were a few minutes of disorder and confusion while the heralds were besieged. Fenice did not understand, but she heard King Alfonso and Edward laughing over the fact that some contestants had no doubt failed to give the heralds their names or forgotten their order in the joust, while others wished to reconsider their challenges and were requesting a change of order or opponent.

Aubery was also watching the crowds around the heralds, but with growing impatience. He wanted to be done with this first formal pa.s.sage at arms and get on to the meat of the match for a true testing of his strength and ability against complete strangers who might use new and different styles of jousting. Draco, catching his mood, pranced heavily so that the nearest pursuivants-most of them jongleurs hired for the occasion, a few permanently attached to the n.o.blemen they would laud-eyed the horse uneasily and withdrew a trifle.

At long last-or so it seemed to Aubery-the trumpets called again, and two pursuivants a.s.signed by Alfonso came forward to make much of each champion's strength and heroism. There were, of course, no insults cast, those were reserved for more personal challenges. Usually Aubery paid little attention. If he could avoid doing so, he did not hire a pursuivant. They always wished to call out the high lineage of their patrons or the heroic deeds of their ancestors. Aubery had no especially high lineage, and his ancestors were a very sore point with him, both his father and grandfather having been despicable men.

Since nothing could be made of Aubery's personal background, the pursuivant concentrated on Aubery's own heroic deeds. This time, listening to the exaggeration of his feats of arms made Aubery uneasy. It would make both English and Gascons seem ridiculous, he thought, if the "single-handed defender of Bayonne" were flipped ignominiously over his horse's croup by a Castilian a hand shorter than himself.

The tension honed his nerves so that when the marshal called, "In the name of G.o.d and Saint Michael, do your battle!" Aubery's spurs raked Draco's sides before the voice had died away. The destrier leapt forward eagerly, neighing his own challenge, which was very nearly drowned out in the roar from the lodges. As his horse plunged forward, Aubery realized he should not have tried to gain the advantage of greater momentum, but it was too late to worry about that. To hold back Draco now would be obvious and cast shame upon his opponent.

He saw Sir Sancho's lance come down, fewtered his own, and flung himself forward into the impact-only to be flung back as if he had missed his target completely. With a bellow of rage and an insane surge of strength, Aubery lifted his s.h.i.+eld as he bent over the high back of his saddle. For a minute he thought his back would be broken, but in the next instant Sir Sancho's lance slid off his s.h.i.+eld and over his shoulder. Aubery struck out again, and the shaft flew to the side as Draco pounded past Sir Sancho's mount.

"Treachery!"

Aubery heard, and the hot rage that had filled him froze into icy fear. But in the next instant he realized it was not the prince's voice that had cried out. It was only a man's full throated bellow that could rise over the screaming and shouting of the shocked spectators. Even the least knowledgeable were aware that something had gone wrong, for the head had flown off Aubery' s lance before the shaft burst virtually into splinters. Neither could be a natural result of an unrecognized fault in the type of wood used for lances.

By then Aubery had managed to pull Draco up and turn him. It was Alfonso who was on his feet screaming, and Sir Sancho was galloping back toward Aubery, calling out in broken French to know if his English opponent was hurt. Now the king had jumped over the barrier of the lodges and was coming toward him, and Edward was hard on his heels. Aubery slid hastily from his saddle.

Sir Savin had stared with unbelieving eyes as Aubery pushed aside the lance point that should have sc.r.a.ped across the top of his s.h.i.+eld and cut into his shoulder, or even better, his throat. It was a nearly incredible feat of strength.

Savin had a momentary qualm of uncertainty. Could Aubery have grown too strong for him in the four years that had pa.s.sed since their previous encounter? Then, seeing that his enemy had suffered no harm at all and that he himself would not be able to replace Aubery as champion, rage pushed out fear. Strong or not, Savin told himself, Aubery would be too tired to fight well by the time he was challenged at the end of the melee. At least I will have my revenge, Savin thought.

As the prince and King Alfonso reached him, Aubery lifted off his tilting helm. "I have come to no hurt," he a.s.sured them calmly in answer to their excited questions.

"When I discover who did this thing," Alfonso snarled, "it will take him twenty years to die."

Aubery nodded, but before he could speak, Edward pointed to his s.h.i.+eld, where the tough leather had been deeply scored.

"Who wants you dead, Sir Aubery?" the prince asked.

Aubery said, "What?" Holding the s.h.i.+eld, he could not see the mark at which Edward had pointed.

From behind the prince, Sir Sancho gasped, "Madre de Dios!" and then broke into a spate of Spanish directed at King Alfonso.

"He says," the king translated, "that he tried to pull his lance away when yours shattered, but he could not. He believes the edge had caught in the outer leather of your s.h.i.+eld. You are a strong man, Sir Aubery, and that saved your life. If the blow had bent your arm in toward your body, the lance would surely have pierced you." Alfonso frowned. "Someone not only subst.i.tuted a bad shaft for your weapon, Sir Aubery, but honed the dulled head of Sir Sancho's. Prince Edward is right. This was not an attempt to make you-or the English-look foolish. You were meant to die. Do you have an enemy in Castile?"

"I do not even know anyone in Castile," Aubery answered. He had forgotten Sir Savin in the stress of the moment, and Edward's next remark drove the man completely out of his mind.

"But there is someone who may have friends or agents in Castile and who has good reason to hate the defender of Bayonne," the prince remarked. "Gaston de Bearn."

There was a moment of silence. Alfonso's jaw set hard, and he stared at Edward briefly. Gaston de Bearn had been Henry's va.s.sal but had abjured his fealty to the English king when Alfonso claimed Gascony and had sworn to the King of Castile. One of the more th.o.r.n.y aspects of the marriage contract-or, rather, of the treaties and agreements accompanying the contract-was whether Alfonso would withdraw his protection from Gaston and leave him to Henry's tender mercies.

Then, without remarking on what Edward had said, Alfonso turned back to Aubery and asked, "Do you desire that Prince Edward or I appoint a new champion? Or-"

"No, my lords," Aubery interrupted with more haste than politeness. "Let us continue as planned. There can be no meddling with the remainder of the lances, for there is no way to know which one will be used by any man."

"You have high courage," Alfonso said.

Aubery grinned. "Forgive me for contradicting you, my lord, but it is only common sense. And it would be better for everyone if it seemed that we believed what happened to be an accident."

Fortunately, Fenice did not hear any mention of an attempt on her husband's life. She had been frightened into mute paralysis when she saw Aubery driven back by Sir Sancho's lance and had nearly fainted when Alfonso leapt to his feet bellowing about treachery. However, it was plain that Aubery had not been hurt, and she recovered. When she understood that he was about to run again, she caught at the queen to plead with her, but before she could force words from her terror-tightened throat, it was all over. Aubery and Sir Sancho had both slatted off sound lances and pa.s.sed each other to a roar of approval. A third pa.s.s resulted in two broken lances and even louder roars. Both champions rode by the royal booth with hands raised in salute, and Aubery was safe.

Aubery rode again, several times, but Fenice grew less terrified with each pa.s.sage at arms, for he overthrew every opponent except one against whom he jousted to a draw. She saw other men hurt, but was convinced by Aubery's continued success and the admiring comments of those around her that his skill and strength were superior and that he was in little danger. Thus, the day pa.s.sed for her in pleasure and increasing pride, which was crowned when Aubery presented the prize he had won to the princess.

After her prepared speech of thanks and acceptance-prepared because Eleanor would have had the prize no matter who won-the little princess gravely detached from the set a beautiful armlet and handed it to Fenice. "It is not fair," the princess said, "that your fine husband should labor so hard and you receive nothing of his prize. Take this to remember the pleasure Sir Aubery has given me this day."

Fenice rose and curtsied to the ground, and Aubery bowed his thanks. The royal party all smiled, and Edward took the princess's hand and kissed it, calling her a lovely and gracious lady, which made his mother glow with pride and little Eleanor blush with joy. The girl had acted impulsively out of the generosity and sweetness of disposition that were natural to her, but she knew she had finally made an impression on her future husband.

Not that Edward had objected to the match and showed his displeasure by ignoring her or being unkind, but his attentions had been perfunctory because she was only a little girl. At fifteen, Edward had been looking forward eagerly to the consummation of his marriage when the subject was first broached, and had been disappointed when he learned he would have to wait several years. Although too young to be wise or temperate, the prince was already a political animal and extended automatic courtesy to his intended wife. He had accepted the marriage willingly, largely because it meant a household of his own and a certain amount of independence. However, the more he saw of Princess Eleanor, the better pleased with her he became despite her youth.

Now her gesture toward Fenice sparked in Edward a desire to be equally generous to Aubery, but at the moment he had nothing to give. Then he remembered the attempt on Aubery, which might make it dangerous for him to be exposed, and he said, "You have had a day's hard labor, Sir Aubery, and you stood vigil with me last night. This night you shall sleep soft, and your lady with you." He turned to Edmund de Lacy just behind him. "My lord, will you for this night yield your chamber to Sir Aubery and come into mine?"

Aubery took breath to protest, but de Lacy agreed to the prince's proposal with so warm a smile that Aubery's slight anxiety about ousting a n.o.bleman from his bed disappeared. Actually, he was very glad of the prince's consideration. He was, by now, very tired and sleepy, but there would be a feast that night, which would mean that Fenice and he would not be free until late. Then they would have had to ride into the town in the dark and rise before dawn in order to be back at the castle in time for the next day's melee. This way, he would have time to s.n.a.t.c.h an hour's sleep before the feast was ready, and he could sleep later in the morning, too.

Aubery thanked both the prince and de Lacy with heartfelt sincerity, and they went in company to the n.o.bleman's room so that de Lacy could inform his servants to transfer what he would need to the prince's apartment. Then, thoughtfully, de Lacy left Fenice and Aubery alone.

"You are not hurt, my lord?" she asked eagerly.

"Not at all," he replied smiling, "just dropping with the need for sleep."

"I will unarm you as quickly as I can," she a.s.sured him and began to do so promptly and without speaking again.

But this time Aubery did not want silence. Despite his fatigue, he was keyed up by the events of the day, and he wanted to talk. Accustomed now to telling Fenice anything of importance to him, he related the events surrounding the shattering of the first lance he had carried, while she removed his hauberk and cuira.s.s. Because she was behind him, he did not see that her face had gone white during his tale, and when he felt her grip him with all the strength she had, he thought she was expressing affection and joy in his safety, so he twisted and bent his head to kiss her hair and draw her around to face him.

"You must not fight again," she cried. "Oh, you must not! If Gaston de Bearn's agents-"

"But I do not see how what the prince said could be true," Aubery pointed out, ignoring the silly remark about not fighting. "I have been thinking about it now and again through the day. No one cried my name aloud. How would Bearn know me? I am no great n.o.ble. Moreover, this 'defender of Bayonne' nonsense is just nonsense. The militia defended Bayonne."

"He could know," Fenice said, thinking that if she could convince Aubery of his danger he would agree to abandon his leaders.h.i.+p of one of the parties in the melee the next day. "You and I both know that Bearn had partisans in Bayonne. They would have reported how you urged the militia to fight and how you spoke against yielding to him in council. Also, do you think he has no one near King Henry to report what is said and done? Would his people not tell him that the king had taken you to his bosom and done you great honor?"

"That is so," Aubery agreed. "Still-"

"Then you will tell the prince that you cannot fight tomorrow?" Fenice asked eagerly.

Aubery burst out laughing. "You silly goose, what are you talking about? I am the prince's champion and will lead our party. Even if there were danger, I could not refuse to play my part, and there is none."

"No danger?" Fenice repeated, her voice rising hysterically. "You say there was a deliberate attempt on your life by an agent of Gaston de Bearn and then that there is no danger?"

"I expected better of you than this," Aubery said, frowning at his wife. "You are talking like any stupid girl who has been taught no more than to ply her needle. You must see that if it were Bearn's man who changed the lance, he can have no further interest in harming me. His purpose must have been to enrage Edward and the English party and make a breach between them and Alfonso. That has failed and, worse yet, been exposed."

"But if it is you he hates-" Fenice wept, clinging to Aubery tighter than ever.

"Oh, do not be so silly," Aubery snapped, pus.h.i.+ng her away impatiently. "A man like Gaston de Bearn does not bother hating someone so far beneath him. No more would he single out one of the militia captains for hatred. If he knows as much as you think, he must know, too, that my presence in Bayonne at the time he chose to attack was an accident. Henry sent me there, but the king could not know Bearn's plans, not to the day he would move." The timing was far too close. Had Henry known, he would have sent me weeks earlier. And no agent of Bearn's would sharpen Sir Sancho's lance head, that was stupid. That was a proof that neither Alfonso nor any other Castilian was responsible. A Castilian could wish me to be overthrown to embarra.s.s the English, but none could desire my death."

Realizing that her fear was only irritating her husband, Fenice wiped the tears from her eyes. "Could not an agent be stupid?" she asked. "Even stupid enough to believe that Bearn desired you dead?"

Aubery shrugged. "There is a possibility, but it does not sit well on my stomach. No," he continued thoughtfully, "I would say the prince, who is very clever and very hot against those who take advantage of his father's foolish enthusiasms, simply seized on an opportunity to lay the blame where it would do the English the most good. If Alfonso does not reject Bearn, much of the benefit of this marriage will be lost."

"But then who tried to have you killed?" Fenice whispered, caring little for political niceties when Aubery's life was at stake.

"I have just thought of the answer," Aubery announced, smiling broadly and reached out and touched Fenice's nose with his finger. "And it is all through trying to convince you not to be a silly goose, so you see, I was wrong. There is good in a woman's silliness. As to who changed the lance and sharpened its head, it must be that greedy idiot Savin."