Chapter 24: At Full Tilt****
Clarkent was outside exercising Penelope Grace--who refused to be ridden that day but allowed herself to be taken around on a lead rope--when Peri came up to him.
“Clarkent,” the magician said, “there’s something you need to know.”
“What is it?” Clarkent asked, frowning.
“Have you seen the signs?”
Clarkent’s frown deepened. “What signs?”
Peri sighed. “The Black Knight has been challenged to a tilt.”
“What?” Clarkent exclaimed loudly. He winced a little and then looked around to make sure no one was watching them. “What do you mean?”
“The Regent has been stewing over the Black Knight for a while, and he’s finally decided that a public humiliation is the best method to get what he wants. His brother and tilting champion, Sir Tempos, will be waiting to joust with you three days before the princess’s seventeenth birthday.”
Clarkent’s face darkened. Under Peri’s guidance, he had practiced tilting with a quintain before, but Sir Tempos was legendary for both ruthlessness and horsemanship. How could Clarkent hope to hold a candle to his skills? . . . Especially when Clarkent had never jousted with a live opponent before.
“I’m not going,” he said flatly. “I’m not at his beck and call. I refuse to come running at his command like a . . . a trained lapdog!” Clarkent the stableboy may have owed something to the Regent due to the man’s Requesting him to stay, but the Black Knight owed him nothing.
“Clarkent, I can try to get you some jousting armor--” Peri began.
“No. That won’t be necessary. I don’t intend to go.” If he were unhorsed at the joust, he would be expected to give up both his armor and his horse, and he intended to part with neither.
The magician lowered his head. “All right.”
****
The day before the tilt Clarkent had determined he would not attend, Princess Loisette came into the stable with her lady-in-waiting, Mishal. Clarkent had seen the young woman several times, but he actually missed seeing Catherine and wondered what had happened to her. But he could not presume to discuss the change with the princess, so he was left to wonder about it in silence.
Upon seeing the princess, he felt a strong sense of relief. He had been worried he wouldn’t see her again before her birthday, and he had something he wanted to ask her.
“Your Highness,” he said, bowing. “Shall I prepare High Flyer and Agides?”
“Yes, please,” she returned with a smile.
Mishal was waiting near the entrance, Clarkent noted gratefully. As he tacked High Flyer, the princess came up beside him to pet the horse. Blushing furiously, he said in a low voice, “Your Highness, I wonder if you might . . . consent to--to meet with me after your birthday ball.” He swallowed and inhaled deeply, amazed that his nerve had gotten him this far. “I wish to see you in . . . in private.” What he wanted to do was give her the birthday present he had for her. And he wanted to do it before she was queen. Her birthday ball was scheduled the night before she turned seventeen. When she finally ascended to the throne the next day . . . he didn’t know what would happen. Would he no longer see her? Or would she simply not talk to him? Was it a requirement for royalty to ignore their servants?
She gave him a strange look as she thought over his request, but then she nodded. “All right,” she agreed softly. “I will see you then.”
He smiled at her, his heart leaping for joy. He finished with High Flyer and moved on to work on Agides. Mishal finally moved toward him, though she directed her conversation toward the princess: “Your Highness, do you think the Black Knight will show up at the tilt tomorrow?”
Clarkent grimaced but said nothing, merely listening to the two ladies.
“I doubt it,” the princess scoffed, causing a pang of sadness to shoot through Clarkent. “The coward won’t even show his face to anyone. I doubt he will come to a true test of courage.”
Clarkent chewed on his lip but still remained quiet.
“Do you think he’s scared?” Mishal asked.
“Probably. Sir Tempos is a great jouster. I doubt the Black Knight has any such skill.”
The princess’s scorn cut Clarkent to the core. Did she really think so little of his alter ego?
He finished helping the two ladies and then watched as their horses walked away. Was he really a coward? The reason he didn’t want to go had nothing to do with fear, did it?
****
Later that day, Gawain came into the stable. Clarkent was mucking out a stall because one of the younger stableboys had fallen sick after eating. He nodded and smiled at Gawain. “Hey, Gawain.”
“Hey, Clarkent,” the other boy returned. He frowned at Clarkent’s work and then looked around. “I guess you’re pretty busy if you have to muck out stalls, huh?”
“Yeah,” Clarkent acknowledged. He didn’t even bother asking Gawain for help--he knew the other boy to be a bit squeamish when it came to horse dung.
“Are you going to try to sneak to the tournament tomorrow?” Gawain asked, pushing some straw around on the ground with his foot.
Clarkent looked away. “N-no,” he murmured.
“I don’t blame you,” Gawain commented, moving to pet Agides. “It’s not like the Black Knight is going to come.”
Clarkent winced. “What makes you say that?”
“I bet he’s too scared to come. Now, if he killed a Garm, *then* I might be impressed with his courage. But I doubt that would ever happen.”
Clarkent narrowed his eyes. “Everyone knows that Garms only exist in fairy tales.” Adults would tell stories of Garms to scare children into obedience--they were supposed to look like mutated black wolves, with hunched eyes, matted fur, and red eyes that glowed in the dark. Unlike wolves, they weren’t supposed to show any fear of humans.
“I think they’re real,” proclaimed Gawain. “And besides, it’s not like the Black Knight is an honorable man--he probably doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him.”
Clarkent turned away, squeezing his eyes shut. But he *did* care how people saw him. And now that he knew both the princess and Gawain thought so ill of him . . . he didn’t know if he could stand it. His pride certainly couldn’t take much more of a battering. He had to prove that he was an admirable person.
“I think he’ll show up,” Clarkent said suddenly. “I think he’ll go--and he might even beat Sir Tempos.”
Gawain shook his head. “I doubt he’s that good.”
“Well,” Clarkent said sourly, “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
“Yeah--I guess so.”
****
Clarkent was in his hideout putting on his armor when Peri entered.
“I thought you weren’t going to fight,” the magician said, sounding concerned.
“I changed my mind,” Clarkent said gruffly.
“You should’ve told me--I could have tried to get you some proper armor.” Peri sighed. He walked over to the cave wall, which Clarkent’s lance was set up against. Examining the blunt pole, he remarked, “At least your lance appears to be in proper shape.” Clarkent had broken more than one when training with the quintain.
“Yeah,” Clarkent said with a nod. “Thank you for . . . for all of your help.” Peri had helped him so much, providing him equipment and advice. He would always remember it.
“You should know the rules for the match, Clarkent. You’re allowed three passes of your horses. If one of you falls off, then you will sword-fight until one of you wins. No other weapons are allowed.”
Clarkent inhaled and told him, “Thanks, Peri.”
The older man smiled. “I think it’s probably time you headed out of here.”
“I guess so,” Clarkent conceded, his mind already speculating about what would happen when he attempted to meet the Regent’s challenge. “Wish me luck?”
“What I’ll hope for is that you put the skills you’ve learned to good use,” Peri said with a chuckle. “And I don’t doubt that you will, son.”
“Thanks, Peri,” Clarkent said softly. He hoped he could emerge victorious from his tilt with Sir Tempos. If he didn’t, there was no telling what would happen to him.
“Remember, when you sword-fight, do not aim to kill. Killing would turn the crowd against you. Your blade isn’t properly blunted, so you’ll have to be careful.”
“Don’t worry,” Clarkent told him. “I don’t intend to kill anyone.” He just hoped his opponent didn’t intend to kill *him*.
****
As Clarkent rode Phantom up to the area where his joust against Sir Tempos was to be held, his nervousness level immediately increased. There were people everywhere.
Fortunately, Clarkent’s mount seemed unfazed by the large numbers of people. Phantom marched ahead without the slightest hint of trepidation, moving among the parting members of the crowd as Clarkent guided him forward. They passed into the list field, where Sir Tempos was waiting for them.
Sir Tempos was decked out in the royal colors, as was his great black mount. The horse even had two metal spikes on its head, which gave it a surprisingly sinister appearance.
Clarkent tore his eyes away from the formidable pair and brought Phantom around to face the Regent.
“So, the illustrious Black Knight has chosen to show his helmet here after all,” the Regent commented in a voice oily with authority. His voice carried easily to Sir Tempos and Clarkent, making the latter more nervous than he already was.
As Regent Alexander began speaking to the crowd, Clarkent was too caught up in his own worries to pay him any attention. Jousting could be dangerous. What if he was killed and his identity revealed? What if he lost and Gawain had come to the tournament? Would the younger boy be ashamed to learn his friend was the Black Knight? And worse--what would the princess think of him?
And then Sir Tempos was moving his horse to one side of the list field, and Clarkent hastily, if a bit belatedly, cued Phantom to take him to the opposite end from his opponent.
“I shall look forward to knocking you to the ground,” Sir Tempos called to him, a sneer evident in his voice, muffled though it was by his helmet.
Clarkent refused to rise to the bait, knowing he needed all his wits about him if he was going to get out of this intact.
“I hope you’re ready, Phantom,” he murmured to his horse, lightly patting his neck.
The horse shook his head in response, his eyes focused straight ahead on the list field.
And then the signal was given, and Clarkent was charging forward at full speed, his lance pointed straight ahead unwaveringly. He shifted the lance to hit the center of Sir Tempos’s chest, bracing himself in preparation for a blow from his opponent.
And then both lances struck. The crack of splintering wood filled the air, and Clarkent gasped at the pressure in his chest as the plate armor pushed up against him, nearly knocking him off. He found himself wishing he *had* asked Peri to get him jousting armor--his armor was almost too heavy for him to balance properly.
A thudding noise came to his ears as Phantom continued rushing by, and he twisted to see that Sir Tempos had fallen off his horse. A feeling of triumph came over him, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Come fight me like a man!” Sir Tempos growled as he got to his feet. He pulled out a sword and readied his stance for battle.
Clarkent took in a deep breath and brought Phantom to a stop. He dismounted and unsheathed his sword. He didn’t want to fight, but this was part of it.
Their weapons crashed together in a flash of light.
“Your sword is impressive,” Sir Tempos told him a low voice, “but we’ll see if your arms can match it.”
****
Loisette watched the sword-fight from her seat beside Alexander. The two knights moved nimbly across the field, parrying and slashing and never faltering. Their feet seemed to glide across the ground as they moved, and their swords gleamed in the bright sun. Though she had believed the Black Knight a coward, he seemed to be holding his own. Maybe he was more impressive than she had realized.
And then she saw a glint in the sunlight and squinted with a frown.
****
Clarkent gasped as a sudden pain flared in his left side.
“Aww, can the Black Knight not take a measly little dagger?” Sir Tempos sneered.
It took a second for Clarkent to recover from the realization that the other knight had used a weapon that wasn’t supposed to be allowed in this fight. But then he pushed the other knight backward with his sword, causing him to withdraw the thin dagger in the process. The weapon had been thrust up beneath the tassets hanging by Clarkent’s legs, and it had slipped through a hole in his mail and embedded itself pretty deeply. But now that the dagger was out of him, the blood was free to flow, and he had no way to stop it, as the wound was beneath his armor.
He threw a quick glance over at the umpires, who appeared not to have noticed the dagger, which had quickly been hidden. Tempos had waited for a moment where his illegal action would be hidden by the positioning of their bodies, so Clarkent would be getting no help from that quarter. Of course, there was always the possibility that the ones who were supposed to watch for foul play had been told to turn a blind eye to whatever Tempos did. Regardless, Clarkent knew he was on his own.
Favoring his left side, he guided their sword-fight toward Phantom. Every move he made caused him to wince, but he nonetheless continued, looking for an opening. Finally, with a flurry of movement, he forced Tempos back several steps, and then he leapt up onto Phantom.
The horse sprang forward at his prodding, and they raced out of the list field amid the gasps of the crowd. The armor and mail that was meant to protect him pushed and pinched at his wound, and he stifled a groan as Phantom galloped forward. He put a hand up between his tassets and under his armor, and his armored fingers came away wet with blood.
****
Chapter 24 GlossaryGarm: In Norse mythology, Garm is a monstrous dog associated with Ragnarok. Ragnarok is an event wherein the gods are destroyed and there is a final battle with evil which leads to a new order.
List Field: The list field is the roped-off area where the joust would take place. It is also called the “lists.”
Horse Armor Spikes: Occasionally, horses would have spikes on the part of their armor protecting their heads. These seemed to be primarily for a decorative purpose by making the horse look like a unicorn.
Example 1 Example 2 Example 3 (can't get url tag to work for it): http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/de/Ren%C3%A9_d%27Anjou_Livre_des_tournois_France_Provence_XVe_si%C3%A8cle_Barth%C3%A9lemy_d%27Eyck.jpg
Tasset: Plate armor has two pieces of metal that protect the thighs; these pieces are called “tassets.”
