Desired (49 page)

“What did you overhear?” Edward asked.

“They said it would be easy. No one would ever suspect foul play. They said accidents always happened in a melee. They said the one who wears sable armor must die.”

Hawksblood and Edward exchanged glances. “Thanks for the warning, Randal. We’ll take care of it. Don’t repeat this to anyone else.”

“Do we believe him?” Paddy asked skeptically when Randal left.

“We cannot ignore it,” Hawksblood warned.

“Well, the melee isn’t until late afternoon, we have a day of jousting to enjoy first,” Edward said with a grin.

The lodges where the noble ladies sat had been covered with costly red carpet. People jostled for seats because of the great number of spectators attending. The ladies of the Court vied with each other to show off their costly gowns trimmed with marten, ermine, or vair. Rich materials of sendal and samite were embroidered with gold thread and pearls. Most of the ladies carried flowers so they could toss them into the lists when a particular favorite won a joust.

The spring sunshine reflected off the trumpets of the heralds and the helms and polished breastplates of the contestants. Flags and pennons mounted all along the palisades dazzled the eye with their colorful and diverse coats of arms.

Princess Isabel presided as Queen of the Tourney because her mother was resting from childbirth. Isabel was in her element today. She would present the prizes to the champions and occupy the seat of honor in the lodges where all the spectators could feast their eyes upon her. She wore red and silver and Brianna thought she looked truly lovely.

Brianna tossed her hair back over her shoulder, thinking this was probably the last time she would wear it loose in public. After she was wed tomorrow, she would wear a scarf or headdress. A feeling was building inside her that
she could not put a name to. It was a mixture of excitement and dread and uncertainty. It was the end of girlhood and the beginning of womanhood. What did her future hold? If a wizard with a crystal ball had offered her a glimpse, she would have refused to look.

To Brianna it seemed the sands of time were running through the hourglass with frightening speed. Before she knew it, she would be standing in the chapel tomorrow, pledging her sacred vows. She knew of at least two other couples who were being wed and, of course, after the wedding ceremonies there was to be the christening of the new baby princess.

The audience surged to its feet cheering as the contestants rode onto the field, singing a rousing battle song. The ladies threw flowers and the cheering rose higher and higher in a tribute to their bravery for defeating the French. Before the first three bouts pursuivants came forward to announce the knights and revile the opponents as had been done in ancient times. “Here is the Baron de Bures, a brave knight of a valorous house. Watch closely all who love brave deeds. His challenger had better find his ransom money. All his friends will feel shame this day!”

From the opposite end of the field the challenger’s pursuivant answered: “Silence your boasts. The baron will have his spurs struck from his heels as an unworthy knight if he survives the impact of the lances.” And so the tournament progressed.

As the Black Prince in his sable armor defeated the last of his challengers, Brianna said to Adele, “I wish Joan were here to see him.”

“Paddy says they’ll be returning to France soon. This time, we too will go.”

Brianna wondered. Christian Hawksblood had done something desperate to prevent her marriage once and she still half-expected him to do something this time. She prayed that he would not. She hoped that he had accepted the fact that her marriage to Robert de Beauchamp was inevitable.

She clasped her hands together tightly when Hawksblood jousted. She knew he would defeat all his challengers. He was the most skilled knight at Windsor.

She grabbed Adele’s hand when Robert rode his jousts, hoping he would make a brave show, and he did not disappoint her. She blushed when the ladies about her offered her congratulations and she saw them sigh over Robert’s fair countenance and tall physique.

When the elimination rounds were over, those undefeated tilted against each other. The king went down in defeat to his friend William de Montecute, Earl of Salisbury, then the crowd went wild as he in turn was beaten by their chosen champion, the Black Prince.

As time for the hastilude approached, Brianna knew the last thing she wanted to see was a re-creation of a bloody battle fought with spears. “Let’s stretch our legs,” she suggested to Adele.

“Yes. Let’s see if we can get a cool drink. My throat is parched.”

In the Black Prince’s tent, Edward and Christian sat talking as their squires handed them clean dry linen tunics to wear beneath their armor. “We will exchange armor, Sire. I have an ominous feeling of foreboding about this hastilude.” Hawksblood expected Prince Edward to refuse and was contemplating conspiring with John Chandos to physically restrain him from participating in the melee.

Edward nodded. “Yes. I have a plan. If I don your brass armor, I will be able to observe any who go after the man wearing sable armor. Have no fear, Christian, I am prepared to slay any who plot my death.”

Christian let out a relieved breath. He had total confidence in his own ability to defend himself against any man breathing.

The roar of the crowd was so deafening that in spite of her abhorrence for violence, Brianna rushed back to her seat in the lodges, clutching a cup of cool mead. The clash of weapons and the battle cries of the knights were mesmerizing. Her hands on the metal cup turned icy and her breath caught and held as the good-natured blows became reckless and turned desperate, smiting with sword and thrusting with spear until the dust rose up to mingle with the blood and sweat of the combatants.

“Mary and Joseph, they are killing one another!”

“No, no, my lamb. ’Tis only a mock battle. You know
what men are. They cannot enjoy themselves unless they break a few bones.”

Brianna’s eyes were drawn to the warrior in brass armor. He stood out from the rest like a beacon. She did not have the advantage of her mother’s second sight today and had no idea the man in brass was not Christian.

Prince Edward could not believe his eyes. The moment Hawksblood in his sable armor stepped upon the field, three men moved purposefully toward him with clear intent. Edward slashed his way toward Hawksblood and smote down the first man with a brutal crack to the head with his broadsword. As he fell, his helm came off and Edward saw that it was one of his brother’s men from the House of Clarence.

Anger almost choked him! He cried out a warning to Hawksblood but saw with deep satisfaction that he was easily besting the second man who attacked him. Then with horror, Edward saw an enormous combatant dart behind Hawksblood, wielding both spear and sword. Bloodlust gripped the Black Prince. He would slay this treasonable swine who had murder in his heart!

Edward raised his spear, drew back his powerful arm, then sent his weapon hurtling through the air on its path of destruction. It pierced clean through the man’s breastplate and the point of the spear protruded from his back. A clearing formed about the dead man, and gradually the fighting came to a halt.

The mail-clad figure was carried from the field to one of the infirmary tents. The two combatants wearing sable armor and brass armor followed. The King of England and Mad Hound Warrick disappeared into the tent and the flaps were closed.

Warrick bent over the body of his son and he knew immediately that it was too late to save him.

The king demanded, “Why in the name of Christ are you two wearing each other’s armor?”

Prince Edward explained, “We were tipped off there would be an attempt on my life.”

Blood drained from the king’s face.

Hawksblood helped his father remove the spear from Robert’s body. Warrick’s face was like granite.

The Black Prince was still gripped by fury. “There were three of them—all Lionel’s men!”

The king lifted the tent flap and summoned a squire. “Find Prince Lionel immediately.” Master John Bray, the king’s physician, rushed up and the king shook his head. “Use another tent for those wounded.” Bray dropped the flap and returned to the others.

The acrid smell of sweat mingled with the metallic smell of blood and the unmistakable scent of death. Emotions hung palpably in the air … anger, shame, pity, sorrow. The implications were horrendous.

Lionel had to stoop before he could enter. In his chain mail he dwarfed everyone in the tent. When he saw the body, he took a clumsy step forward. “Rob? Robbie?” His face was running with tears. “Who killed him?”

Prince Edward sprang forward with upraised fist. “You did, you son of a bitch! You had to have given him the order!”

The king stepped between his two sons. “Cease! There was a plot to take Edward’s life. Were you involved?” the king thundered.

“No! No, Father, I swear to you.”

“You fucking liar! All three men belonged to the House of Clarence,” Prince Edward shouted. “One was Fitzroy … I don’t recall the other’s name, but I’d know the swine anywhere!”

The king was incensed. “This is a black mark against the name of Plantagenet! We will be perceived as wolves, turning on each other, tearing each other’s throats out for cursed ambition!”

“Father, I swear I am innocent!” Lionel cried.

“Don’t you see that protestations don’t matter? In the eyes of the world you will be guilty!”

Hawksblood stepped forward. “Sire, the spectators saw the knight in brass armor throw the spear. They will think I killed my brother.”

The king stared at him for a full minute as the truth of Hawksblood’s words sank in. “You would take the blame?”

Christian Hawksblood said, “It is best for all that I do. The Black Prince is the people’s chosen champion. Real-life
heroes are few and far between. Don’t allow his image to become tarnished, Your Highness.”

“I
would
like to keep this evil business quiet. It would destroy Philippa’s happiness if Lionel had plotted his brother’s death.” The king saw Warrick’s stony countenance. “I’m forgetting you in all this, friend. I’m sorry for your loss, Guy. Can you live with our silence in this matter?”

Warrick knew nothing could bring back his son. An investigation would probably destroy the king’s son Lionel, as well. He nodded his head. “I can live with the silence, but I cannot live with the shame, Sire.”

“Nay, none of us can change what our wolf cubs become.” He turned to Lionel. “I want Fitzroy and the other arrested. See to it!”

Hawksblood said low to Warrick, “Are you all right?” Only the aquamarine eyes showed a glimpse of the anguish in the earl’s heart and soul. Hawksblood and Warrick left the tent together and Christian led the way to his own pavilion where his squires awaited him. He sat his father down in a chair while Ali poured him a restorative drink. “Leave us awhile,” he told his squires.

“We must bury him,” Warrick said stoically.

“Would you like me to see to it?” Hawksblood asked.

“Nay. I’ll make the arrangements.” The earl drained the cup and set it down. “I know there was no love lost between you, but nonetheless I’m glad he didn’t die by your hand.”

“I feel exactly the same, but Prince Edward saved my life. Robert would have killed me, believing I was Edward.”

Warrick shook his head in anguish. “I blame myself. I often had doubts about him, but stubbornly refused to see him for what he was. Tomorrow would have been his wedding day. Poor Lady Bedford.”

“The contract that was drawn up for Warrick’s son to wed Brianna of Bedford was approved by the king. I want to fullfil that contract.” Warrick stared at his son, a dozen unasked questions on his lips.

“I want her. None other shall ever have her,” Christian vowed.

“The people already think you killed your brother. They
will say it was no accident. They will say you murdered him to get your hands on his woman.”

“I don’t give a good goddamn what people say,” Hawksblood emphasized.

Warrick finally said, “If the lady is willing, I have no objection. I already think of her as my daughter.”

B
rianna of Bedford felt numb. She had watched the melee in fascinated horror, her eyes fixed on the combatant clad in shiny brass armor. In spite of the pandemonium and the dust, she had seen him hurl his spear into another combatant. If the wound was not fatal, it would be a miracle!

She watched with closed throat as the felled warrior was carried from the field. Clad in plain mail his identity was unknown, yet a suspicion so terrible it shamed her rose in Brianna’s mind. It couldn’t be Robert. Christian de Beauchamp was incapable of such an evil deed. Yet hadn’t she been waiting for him to do something that would stop the wedding?

With dread in her heart she left the lodges and made her way toward the infirmary tents. Adele trailed behind her, unsure of what had happened. A crowd milled about the tent. Brianna saw the flap was pulled down so that none could enter. Another tent was open and men with light wounds moved in and out. She entered the tent and ran her eyes over all the men being tended by Master John Bray and his assistants. The Earl of Salisbury lay with a gash in his leg, but none of the men was Robert. “Who was carried off the field?” she asked.