In medieval times a sport arose. Embraced by noble and peasant fans alike though only noble knights could compete. The sport was jousting.
For one of these knights, an over-the-hill former champion, it was the end. But for his peasant squire William, it was merely the beginning.
"Shall we help him?" Roland asked looking at the knight whom laid against a tree to rest.
"Well, he has to be in the lists in two minutes; two minutes or forfeit. Mary you're his lady-in-waiting, go wait on him!" William said gesturing to the metal figure.
"Not bloody likely! You can't even walk over there without nose plugs. I'm not even sure there is a knight in there anymore for me to wait on, William!" I snapped at him.
Roland rolled his eyes at our sibling bickering, plugged his nose and walked over to the knight. "Dead!" he called out. William and I looked at each other in shock.
"Three scores to none after two lances! All Sir Ector needs to do is not fall off his horse and we've won!" Wat exclaimed finally joining us while panting with excitement. He had no idea the news Roland just revealed.
"He's dead," Roland told Wat as the smell of the former knight began spreading towards us.
"What do you mean, dead?" Wat asked in disbelief.
"The spark of his life is smothered in shite. His spirit is gone but his stench remains. Does that answer your question?" Roland answered with the face that Wat isn't going to be able to deny the sight in front of him. Knowing the way Wat is, he was still going to try.
"No, no, no, no, no!" Wat began as his face fell.
"Yes, Wat! Ector is gone," I tried to stop his denial before it truly began.
"No, he sleeps, rouse him! We are minutes from victory. I haven't eaten in three days, Mary Jane! Three days!" he reminded me.
"Don't you 'Mary Jane' me! I haven't eaten in three days' time, same as you!" I threw back.
"None of us have!" William yelled to stop our bickering. Between all the verbal tiffs William, Wat, and I get into, Roland almost has to act as a babysitter. William and I are siblings; we have an excuse. Wat on the other hand has anger and annoyance rooted to his very core.
"We need to fetch a priest," Roland said standing up and walking from the late Sir Ector.
"No, he's not dead!" Wat said as he ran forward and began yelling at the body. "Wake up! Come on, huh? Come on! You manky git…"
As Wat's frustration grew and he began kicking and beating the dead knight, one of the tournament's heralds came over.
"Ho, squire. Sir Ector must report at once or forfeit the match," the herald looked at Roland expectantly. As the pit of anguish, from realizing we won't be eating yet another day, filled my empty stomach, I closed my eyes awaiting Roland's response. It was my brother's voice I heard instead however.
"He's on his way!"
The herald nodded, while giving Wat a strange glance. Wat was still kicking the fallen metal suit while yelling, "Three days! What're you doing?... I'll do you in… I'll kill you!"
Roland and I just stared at William wide-eyed as the herald left.
"Have you gone mad?!" I yelled at my brother.
"I'll ride in his place," he suggested.
"Oh my, he has gone mad…"
"No I haven't, MJ. Wat strip his armour, I'm riding in his place," he called out to Wat. Wat payed no mind, still kicking Ector. "Wat! Stop kicking him. Calm down, I'm riding in his place. Help me, please."
"What's your name, William? I'm asking you, William Thatcher, to answer me with your name. It's not Sir William, it's not Count or Duke or Earl William, It's certainly not King William," Roland tried to knock sense into him. "You have to be of noble birth to compete, in case you forgot."
"The landscape is food. Do you want to eat or don't you?" William asked looking between Roland and I.
"You better pray the nobles don't find out, or there'll be the devil to pay," I told him, before walking over to my dead liege to begin stripping him.
After getting William in Sir Ector's armour, he mounted the horse and we ran back to the stadium. Nobles and peasants alike were pounding on the stands in anticipation. Wat handed William the lance as the herald, began to address us and the crowd.
"The score stands at three lances to none, in favour of Sir Ector. Lord Philip of Aragon, stand you ready?" the Harold asked the opponent, in which he raised his lance. "Sir Ector, stand you ready?" he asked William who mimicked his opponent.
"Ready?" Wat asked my brother.
"Of course," he stated with ease. You could never say my brother lacks confidence or courage, that's for sure. "I have tilted against Sir Ector many times, you know."
"In practice lists as his target. You were never allowed to strike him!" Wat reminded him.
"Wat, don't badger him. You need only stay on the horse to win, William. He need three points to beat you, so a broken lance won't do. Stay on that horse, William, or Wat will be cutting you hand off for dinner… And I won't stop him," I threatened, my hunger getting to me. Despite the ache in my abdomen, I was very concerned with what my brother had gotten him into.
"I know how to score, MJ… I've waited my whole life for this moment," William said dreamily. Ever since he was a young lad, he dreamed of jousting as a knight, changing his stars, just like father said he could.
The joust began and William willed the horse forward pointing his lance. Wat, Roland, and I stood yelling at him from behind, "GET IT IN THE CRADLE!"
Him and Lord Philip ran toward each other, with William barely holding onto his lance. He looked to his hand to fix his grip and when he looked back up, Lord Philip's lance struck my brother straight in his visor, bending the metal to his face. My heart jumped into my throat, with fear for William's well-being. Roland, Wat, and I ran to him.
"YES!" Wat cheered.
"William?" I asked, praying for an answer.
"Are you alright?" Roland questioned. No answer.
"WE WON!" Wat continued.
"WILLIAM!" Roland and I kept yelling.
"He's breathing! He's breathing! He's breathing!" Roland finally called out.