Chapter 11: Squire's Melee
The herald called out. "Today is the final day of the Hand's tourney. A great many feats have been done. Today we see the squires of the most noble lords of the realm compete for honour and glory. For a knighthood." The herald looked to the King who called out.
"Begin."
Tommen grabbed his mace and walked forward. Father, Mother, a newly knighted Joffrey, Myrcella and Lady Jeyne were all watching him. He moved toward Lancel who he knew would be the weakest opponent. He swung his mace and within few swings had knocked Lancel down and gotten his surrender. Somewhere he knew Uncle Kevan was groaning. His heir was pathetic. Tommen moved on, hearing the chattering of the crowd. He heard someone else surrender, and turned and saw some lowly Vance surrendering to Jon Snow. He nodded, that made sense.
He kept going, came face to face with Richard Lonmouth, named after the Knight of Skulls. He swung his mace. Lonmouth swung his. They clashed and sparks flew. Tommen pushed and Lonmouth pushed back. They moved this way and that, the crowd started to get excited. Tommen sensed that Lonmouth was putting a bit too much weight on his front foot, so leaned forward and pushed with all his might. Lonmouth fell backward and Tommen swung his mace. The boy fell backward, and Tommen knocked him out cold. It was sporting but it was a melee after all.
Another figure came at him. This time it was Martyn, his cousin and friend. Tommen took it easy on him, batting away his swings and allowing him to get a blow or two on his person. But when Martyn got cocky and said. "You're getting soft, Your Royal Highness." Tommen decided enough was enough. He smacked his mace into Martyn's face once, and then hit his chest once, twice, and then a third time, getting his cousin to surrender. He moved on, and faced Willem, Martyn's brother. Another swing, Willem hit his helm. Tommen took the blow, felt a moment of shock and moved forward. Willem was all about the quick blows. Tommen knew from experience to let the other boy move this way and that, using up his speed and exhausting himself.
When Tommen heard his laboured breathing, he moved in. One swing knocked the sword out of his cousin's hand. Another swing and his cousin was bleeding. Another swing and his cousin surrendered. Tommen winked at him and moved on. He felt exhilarated, perhaps he might actually win this and earn the knighthood. He came across Jeyne's cousin, Alyn. He moved quickly did Alyn. Swinging this way and that. Another one who had all the skill but no idea how to use it. Tommen read him easily enough. It was about watching the feet. That was what Aron Santagar and Uncle Jaime had taught him. Always watch the feet and you would know where the opposition fighter was going. Tommen watched the feet and saw his gap, he stuck his left foot forward, forcing Alyn to move awkwardly, and then he slammed his mace in hard. Alyn sank to the floor and didn't get up again. For a moment Tommen feared he'd killed the boy, but then Alyn struggled up and walked off.
Now it was just three of them left. Jon Snow and Harrold Hardying. Hardying went for Snow, fighting him with a hammer. Snow fought with a sword and seemed to be going well. He blocked the blows on his shield, and then pushed forward with intensity. Hardying was a big lad, but he wasn't all that smart. He left himself open far too often. He broke himself on the shield and then was sliced and diced and left to surrender. He limped off but not before spitting at Jon. Tommen made note of that, and swore that the boy would never attend him at Storm's End.
Now it was just the two of them. Tommen smiled and winked at Jon as his friend smiled at him. They moved to meet in the middle. Tommen swung his mace, Jon raised his shield. They clanged against one another. Jon pushed and Tommen pushed back. They danced around and then broke apart, only to come together again for more of the same. It was vicious. Tommen felt his blood sing. He swung, Jon blocked, Jon swung and he blocked. The crowd were roaring their approval. He could feel himself growing flush with pride.
He had fought Jon before in the practice yard and they had always given as good as they had gotten. It was the way they both were. Fighting with intensity and never ever letting up. This time was no different. Backwards and forwards they went. Tommen took blows, Jon took blows. But still they kept fighting. Never to cease. Onward. Tommen felt blood begin to drip down his body from the wounds, whilst Jon was covered in dents and cuts. Jon swung and Tommen slipped, he fell back and felt the sword pressing at his neck.
"Do you surrender?" Jon asked.
Tommen slowly got back up. "Never." He swung his mace and their dance continued again. Backwards and forwards, this time they both fought as if on another level. Neither of them were really caring about what sort of wounds they dealt only that the other was weakening. It went on like this for some time before the King stood up and bellowed.
"Enough! We have seen enough to judge you both worthy." The King walked down the steps and toward them. "You have both fought well and we judge you equal winners." He took both their hands and raised them high as the people cheered.
"Now kneel." The King said, taking a sword. He knighted them both, they swore their vows and then the crowd cheered once more.
Tommen looked at Jon and winked. He knew they would talk about this over a cup of ale later. But for now they could both bask in their newly won knighthoods, and the girls that would come with it.