Disclaimer: No AKT characters are mine, fanfiction is just for fun.
Count Villeux, having won the first round of the joust, decided his armour wasn't extravagant enough – he wanted it engraved on the shoulder plates as well as the chest with his coat of arms, and he wanted it in time for the second round in a little over an hour's time. Wat and Roland had been entrusted with getting it done.
"Kate! Kate, are you in?" Roland called into the forge. A moment's silence was followed by a rustling sound from behind a flap of canvas at the back of the tent, and a dishevelled-looking Kate appeared.
"What do you want?"
"Got some more armour needs engraving...are you ok?"
"Yes...No..."
Roland put down the armour. "What's happened?"
Kate sighed. "It's Thomas...he's not a Count"
"What d'you mean?" Wat asked.
"I mean he lied to us. He's...he's doing a William!"
Wat looked puzzled, but Roland grinned. "Well I never! You mean he's taking part illegally?"
"Sort of..."
"Haha! I wondered why he hung around with us lot! Well, good luck to him!"
"It's not him – Ismene's the one who's taking part."
"What?"
"He entered, but she pretends to be him and fights."
"That's even better!" Roland was grinning from ear to ear. "Why do you look so upset?"
"He LIED to me!" Kate cried. "I started to like him as a Count, and suddenly it turns out he's a milliner's son...how am I *supposed* to feel?!"
"Ah...you've got a point..."
"I'll hurt him for you!" Wat burst out. "Just tell me to and I'll..." he punched one fist into an open palm. Kate was tempted to give him the go- ahead.
"But would you have liked him if he wasn't a Count?" Roland asked.
"...Maybe..."
"Well then – he's not a bad lad, he probably couldn't tell you in case you told the judges."
"He could have trusted me!"
Roland didn't want to argue – Kate was getting irate.
"Look, I'll have a word with him"
"Don't!"
"Why not? If you like him and he likes you...which he does."
"I just don't know if I can trust him."
"Let me talk to him."
"Let me hurt him!" Wat cried.
"Fine, you can talk to him. But stop going on about it! What do you want me to do with that armour?"
~**~
Thomas may have almost ruined his new relationship, but Geoffrey had managed to gain Ismene's trust – after Villeux's joust he'd gone to find her and they'd spent half the night talking and the next day, as Wat and Roland were talking to Kate, he was arriving at the sword ring to see Ismene's next fight. Eight knights were left in the competition, and Ismene was drawn against Prince Michael of Prussia – a member of the extended Prussian royal family, who at 22 was a strapping young man, confident when he saw the stature of his opponent.
"Ladies and gentlemen..." Thomas began half-heartedly. "...boys and girls, I present to you a knight of the highest calibre, from the distant land of Germany. It is a land of monsters, and I am quite certain that one inhabits his very soul. I give you – Count Thomas of Bavaria."
Despite the lacklustre delivery, the words were good and Ismene was received by loud cheers. The Prussian prince had a herald who spoke with a thick accent, but the novelty of the way he ran around and gestured as if half-mad amused the crowd and won many of them over to his side. The prince entered, wearing chain mail down to his knees. His sword was very wide and heavy, and he wore a bright helm which, although affording protection, would certainly obscure his vision.
Geoffrey felt the excitement of the crowd mixed with concern for Ismene's safety. She looked small next to the prince, and he cringed as their blades suddenly clashed with a resounding clang. The crowd began to bay for their chosen champion, and Geoffrey found himself shouting encouragement to Count Thomas.
It soon became clear that although the weaker of the two, Ismene was faster, and she exhibited skill dodging the prince's blows, hitting back herself when his defence was dropped. After several minutes it seemed that she was gaining the upper hand, but suddenly the bigger man lashed out with his free arm, knocking her off her feet. She landed heavily on her back, and barely had time to roll out of the way before his sword came stabbing down to impale the ground on which she had fallen.
"Come on!" Geoff shouted. "Get up!"
Ismene scrambled to her feet, blocking a heavy blow aimed at her head. As the big knight began to turn, she quickly ducked and thrust her blade low – connecting with the mail covering his groin. He stopped dead, doubled over in pain, and a groan from the crowd showed the sympathy half of them felt. Ismene raised her foot and kicked his side, pushing him over so he lay curled up and prone on the ground.
"Do you yield?"
"No! You do not fight honourably!" His accent was difficult to understand, especially as he was talking through gritted teeth.
"It's not against the rules"
Geoff, from his vantage point near the back of the crowd, wondered what was taking so long. Ismene and the prince seemed to be having a discussion. The crowd had started a rude chant about male parts, and he suppressed the urge to join in.
"Yield!" Ismene cried exasperatedly. The prince shook his head and made to get up, feeling the pain a little less. "Yield or I'll cut your head off!" She pressed her blade to his throat. "That's not an idle threat – I've killed Princes before!"
The Prussian understood the menace in her voice and sank back down to his knees.
"I yield." He turned his blade and handed it to her, hilt first.
"Thank you." Ismene held his sword up to the cheers of the crowd.
~**~
"That was amazing!" Geoffrey caught Ismene up in his arms as she came out from under the stand after giving her sword to Thomas. He was being besieged by admiring fans, and she was able to slip away unnoticed.
"Thanks!" she hugged him tightly. "He didn't want to yield!" She pulled back – her hair was a bit damp and she was still getting her breath back, but apart from that she might have walked straight out of the crowd instead of from the ring.
"Perhaps because you stabbed him in the balls, darling."
"All's fair in love and war"
"Ah, a woman after my own heart!" Geoff draped his arm around her shoulders as they began to walk back to the street. "Would you like some refreshment?"
"A drink would be great"
They stopped at a stall and bought water, then sat on a nearby wall.
"It's weird, coming straight from the ring and having to act like nothing's happened – while Thomas takes all the glory."
"If it's any consolation I'm a fan" Geoffrey said. "When Thomas is famous I can tell people I took him for dinner once upon a time."
Ismene laughed. "You might damage his reputation! Anyway, it'll never go that far – I don't need to win the event, I just need to win enough money from betting on myself."
Geoff thought wistfully of his 'little problem'. "It's all very well – but I wouldn't like to see you get hurt."
Ismene blushed a little. "I won't get hurt – at least, if I do, it won't be as bad as any injuries I've had before."
"What do you mean?"
"Geoff, I grew up around wars – the law of averages says you get hit by an arrow or something once in a while."
Geoffrey raised his eyebrows. "An arrow?"
"I'm joking! It was actually a crossbow bolt..." She finished her water and slid down from the wall, regarding the writer with her hands on her hips.
"When's Villeux on?"
"Eleve...oh shit!" Geoffrey jumped from the wall and sprang off down the street. "I'm late!" he yelled back as Ismene stood agape. She set off after him, running through the winding lanes of the camp, dodging peasants and squires until finally arriving, breathless, at the jousting ring.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Geoffrey, having reached the ring already, cried between breaths to the waiting crowd. "Forgive me my tardiness – I was detained by a beautiful young lady..." wolf-whistles sounded from the crowd. "...who asked me to purvey a message of her affections to the man you are about to see SLAY his opponent! I give you the one, the only, Count Villeux!"
Villeux appeared on his bay stallion, which was clad in shining mail as was he. Kate had done a good job with the engraving – his emblem could clearly be seen on the plate, and a matching design adorned a pennant tied to his lance. At almost 16 feet long, the lance needed enormous strength to wield, and Villeux held it proudly as his horse danced and pawed at the ground. His opponent was similarly clad in mail, and his lance was just as massive – it had always amazed Ismene that men would want to sit on a horse, unmoving due to the weight of their armour and the presence of the high saddle keeping them there, and allow themselves to be run at by a huge stake. Still, it was a noble sport, and one which could bring not only money but esteem and recognition. As she was contemplating this and marvelling at their finery, Geoffrey came from the ring and took her arm, leading her to stand beside Wat and Roland whose presence she'd not noticed.
The knights brought their horses to separate ends of the jousting ring, on separate sides of the ornate wooden divider. The crowd hushed as they faced each other, and suddenly, without any command from either side, they spurred their horses and charged towards each other. The crowd went wild – Ismene's heart jumped into her throat as they covered the ground with a thud of hooves and a clatter of metal.
"Come on Villeux!" Roland shouted.
"Kill! Kill!" Wat screamed.
With only a few strides left the knights lowered their lances, special troughs on their armour keeping them level, and the crowd gasped as Villeux's lance caught his opponent in the shoulder, breaking into splinters and knocking the man backwards against the cantle. Wat grabbed a spare lance from against the stadium wall, and he and Wat ran out to re-arm their master. The opposing knight's squires did the same as his horse slowed to a walk, and he leant down to talk to them, clutching his shoulder.
"He's hurt!" Geoff said triumphantly. "It's his lance arm too – that gives Villeux an advantage"
"Yeah, but I bet he's even more determined now" Ismene said as the man turned his horse to take up position ready for the next charge.
Villeux was soon ready at the other end, and again without a signal they spurred their horses to a gallop, and Ismene knew that they wouldn't be hearing the crowd anymore – all they would see was each other, closing quickly at the end of a lance. This time, Villeux's aim was bad, and his lance went wide. A moment later his opponent's lance hit him in the chest, not breaking but glancing off his armour and barely shaking him from the saddle. Wat and Roland ran up behind him and steadied his lance as he told them he was fine.
"A scratch!" Ismene heard him declare. "Barely even that – I will unhorse him now!"
Sure enough, on the next run, Villeux's lance connected head-on high on his opponent's chest, lifting him from the saddle so he landed roughly on his back on the dusty ground. His squires ran over to see if he was alright, and the crowd went wild as Villeux saluted them, taking off his helm so they could all see his face. Geoffrey applauded, but didn't look as happy as he might.
"Aren't you pleased?" Ismene asked.
"Yes...but he's a vain bastard" He jogged out to stand by his master, and said a few well-chosen words about his glory when the crowd had finally hushed. Villeux spent a few more minutes basking in praise, then spurred his horse to a walk out of the stadium, stopping in front of Ismene.
"Surely such a beautiful woman did not come to watch me joust?" he said, and Ismene frowned a little at his advances, but before she could open her mouth to reply, a high-pitched voice behind her giggled.
"I may have done, Sir Knight. Would you do me the honour of taking my handkerchief?"
The well-dressed woman pushed past Ismene and held out a small silk square to Villeux, who took it graciously and held it to his heart.
"Of course – I am sure it will be bring me victory!" He leaned down and took the woman's hand, kissing it and causing her to giggle again. Ismene turned away from the display, almost bumping into Geoffrey, who smiled down at her ironically.
"See what I mean?"
~**~
"He's been drawn against Chiswick" Roland said as he entered the tent. It was a few hours after the joust, and he, Wat, Ismene, Thomas and Geoffrey had just returned from a lunch purchased by Villeux's good will. Kate said she was too busy to go, which could have been true, but could also have been caused by Thomas's presence. Roland had stopped off at the lists on the way back so he could find out about his master's new opponent.
Geoffrey was reclining on some skins on the floor, feeling very full. "Do we know anything about him?"
"I talked to the guy he's just beaten" Roland said, sitting down. "Says he's a hard sod"
"Chiswick?" Ismene mused. She felt a bit light-headed from wine, and was sitting back-to-back with Thomas; they were holding each other up. "Haven't I seen him somewhere?"
"Yeah" Thomas said. "Chiswick the Younger's in the sword-on-foot. You must mean Chiswick the Elder" he said to Roland. "We saw the Younger one beating the life out of his squire the other day – someone told us they were both to be avoided."
"Great" Geoffrey said. "Maybe they'll take Villeux down a peg or two."
Wat looked shocked from his place in a corner of the large tent. "You're supposed to be *loyal*!"
"I don't like him either" Roland said. "He's always wanting some new shirt sewn or for his mail to be shinier...and then he only goes and gets it muddy..."
"You sound like his wife" Thomas said, and Roland threw a ball of string at him.
"Well, I think you should watch out for him" Thomas said. "From what I've heard I wouldn't be surprised if he tried something funny."
"You mean, cheating?" Roland asked, remembering the time Count Adhemar had tried to kill William.
"Maybe. I wouldn't put it past him"
"We'll be on the lookout then" Roland said.
"Couldn't you get drawn against Chiswick the Younger then?" Geoff asked from his position on the floor.
"I guess so" Ismene replied. "But only if I win this round. I'm up against Baron Michel of Austria next, and I don't plan to do very well."
"What?" Roland was dismayed. "But you could *win*! Think about it – a woman winning the event – it'd be hilarious! I can just see the looks on the judges faces..."
"I could *try*" Ismene said.
"Oh come on, you could win" Thomas laughed. "I've seen you when you get angry...even Chiswick wouldn't stand a chance." Roland looked questioning. "This is the woman who took down six men-at-arms because they threatened to sell her to the local tavern-keeper" he explained.
"There were five of them" Ismene argued. "But I was quite angry, as you can imagine." She sighed. "The thing is, if we bet all our money on this one fight for me to lose, and I do, we'll be set for about a year. I can get to France and Thomas can set himself up in London. If I try and win though, it means a lot of trouble and if I get discovered we could lose everything. I just think it's safer to quit while we're ahead."
Geoff nodded his agreement, thinking she'd be much safer out of the ring, and even Roland grudgingly assented.
"I suppose so" he allowed. "But it'd still be great if you won...more shocking than when Will did!"
"I'll bet on you to lose then?" Thomas asked, turning his head to try and see his friend.
"Yes, I think that's best."
"You know...if we know the outcome of the fight for definite, we could *all* gamble" Geoffrey said. Roland shook a finger at him.
"You know you're not supposed to!"
Ismene frowned – he had done only a couple of days ago, she'd been there – she didn't think he'd told anyone about it though.
"But it can't hurt if I can't lose!"
"No Geoff!"
"You imprison my very soul!" he cried, sitting up. "It's wrong to restrain natural urges, even if they're frowned upon by certain members of society..." he looked pointedly at Roland.
"If everyone did what they liked the world would be overrun by murderers and the like" Roland pointed out. "I'm sorry Geoff, but if you end up without clothes again I'm not making you any more!"
~**~
The rest of the day passed in similar lazy fashion for Ismene – she had little to do except exercise her horse, which she did by going for a ride in the woods, accompanied by a gloomy Thomas. Geoffrey stayed in the tent catching up on his neglected writing, for which he said so much material had recently been provided he could be busy for days. Wat and Roland were sent for by Villeux and put to work, but the group planned to meet up that night for dinner at The Bay Horse, which was reputed for its good food and strong mead.
"I bet Kate won't join us again" Thomas sighed as he rode Plato alongside Ismene's Orthos. "Roland spoke to me earlier – he said that she doesn't trust me and I'll have to do something pretty good to win her back."
"Well why don't you?" Ismene asked. "I'm not surprised she doesn't trust you..."
"But I couldn't help lying!"
"I know – I'm not saying it's your fault...I'm just saying I can see things from her point of view. She's a Ferrier – it's a man's job and she's probably spent her whole life trying to earn respect and show she's not a walkover, then you come along and she lets herself like you and it turns out you're not the man she thought you were! I'd be a bit pissed off too."
"But what can I do about it?"
"Talk to her I suppose. Prove to her you're just as good a milliner as a Count"
"What if she only liked me for my title?"
"Then she's shallow and not worth the trouble. But I don't think she's that sort of person – just let her know how sorry you are"
Thomas sighed again. "I will"
"Before tonight?"
"Yes..." he didn't sound too convincing, and Ismene glanced at him questioningly.
"I will...I just have to work up the courage for it."
~**~
When they got back to town and had stabled the horses, Thomas set off to the blacksmith's quarter.
"Kate?" he called tentatively on entering the tent. Kate was engaged in beating some plate armour, and looking menacing wielding the hammer. She looked up and started when she saw who it was.
"What do you want?" She lowered her hand but didn't let go of the instrument.
"To talk to you" he stepped further into the tent. "I want to tell you how sorry I am."
"Sorry?" Kate looked amazed. "You lied to me Thomas!"
"I know – but I had to, about my title and job. Everything else is true – everything I told you I'd done, I have. Everywhere I said I'd been, I have! I was telling the truth when I said you were beautiful and I think you're the most amazing woman..." he lowered his gaze. "If you don't want to be with me because I'm not a Count, I'll accept that, but I just wanted you to know that you don't have to doubt how I feel about you."
Kate was silent. She slowly put down the hammer and walked over to him, then put her arms around him and pulled him close. "I don't care if you're a Count or a peasant" she said. "If you really are who I think you are inside, that's enough."
"I am" Thomas said, hugging her back.
Count Villeux, having won the first round of the joust, decided his armour wasn't extravagant enough – he wanted it engraved on the shoulder plates as well as the chest with his coat of arms, and he wanted it in time for the second round in a little over an hour's time. Wat and Roland had been entrusted with getting it done.
"Kate! Kate, are you in?" Roland called into the forge. A moment's silence was followed by a rustling sound from behind a flap of canvas at the back of the tent, and a dishevelled-looking Kate appeared.
"What do you want?"
"Got some more armour needs engraving...are you ok?"
"Yes...No..."
Roland put down the armour. "What's happened?"
Kate sighed. "It's Thomas...he's not a Count"
"What d'you mean?" Wat asked.
"I mean he lied to us. He's...he's doing a William!"
Wat looked puzzled, but Roland grinned. "Well I never! You mean he's taking part illegally?"
"Sort of..."
"Haha! I wondered why he hung around with us lot! Well, good luck to him!"
"It's not him – Ismene's the one who's taking part."
"What?"
"He entered, but she pretends to be him and fights."
"That's even better!" Roland was grinning from ear to ear. "Why do you look so upset?"
"He LIED to me!" Kate cried. "I started to like him as a Count, and suddenly it turns out he's a milliner's son...how am I *supposed* to feel?!"
"Ah...you've got a point..."
"I'll hurt him for you!" Wat burst out. "Just tell me to and I'll..." he punched one fist into an open palm. Kate was tempted to give him the go- ahead.
"But would you have liked him if he wasn't a Count?" Roland asked.
"...Maybe..."
"Well then – he's not a bad lad, he probably couldn't tell you in case you told the judges."
"He could have trusted me!"
Roland didn't want to argue – Kate was getting irate.
"Look, I'll have a word with him"
"Don't!"
"Why not? If you like him and he likes you...which he does."
"I just don't know if I can trust him."
"Let me talk to him."
"Let me hurt him!" Wat cried.
"Fine, you can talk to him. But stop going on about it! What do you want me to do with that armour?"
~**~
Thomas may have almost ruined his new relationship, but Geoffrey had managed to gain Ismene's trust – after Villeux's joust he'd gone to find her and they'd spent half the night talking and the next day, as Wat and Roland were talking to Kate, he was arriving at the sword ring to see Ismene's next fight. Eight knights were left in the competition, and Ismene was drawn against Prince Michael of Prussia – a member of the extended Prussian royal family, who at 22 was a strapping young man, confident when he saw the stature of his opponent.
"Ladies and gentlemen..." Thomas began half-heartedly. "...boys and girls, I present to you a knight of the highest calibre, from the distant land of Germany. It is a land of monsters, and I am quite certain that one inhabits his very soul. I give you – Count Thomas of Bavaria."
Despite the lacklustre delivery, the words were good and Ismene was received by loud cheers. The Prussian prince had a herald who spoke with a thick accent, but the novelty of the way he ran around and gestured as if half-mad amused the crowd and won many of them over to his side. The prince entered, wearing chain mail down to his knees. His sword was very wide and heavy, and he wore a bright helm which, although affording protection, would certainly obscure his vision.
Geoffrey felt the excitement of the crowd mixed with concern for Ismene's safety. She looked small next to the prince, and he cringed as their blades suddenly clashed with a resounding clang. The crowd began to bay for their chosen champion, and Geoffrey found himself shouting encouragement to Count Thomas.
It soon became clear that although the weaker of the two, Ismene was faster, and she exhibited skill dodging the prince's blows, hitting back herself when his defence was dropped. After several minutes it seemed that she was gaining the upper hand, but suddenly the bigger man lashed out with his free arm, knocking her off her feet. She landed heavily on her back, and barely had time to roll out of the way before his sword came stabbing down to impale the ground on which she had fallen.
"Come on!" Geoff shouted. "Get up!"
Ismene scrambled to her feet, blocking a heavy blow aimed at her head. As the big knight began to turn, she quickly ducked and thrust her blade low – connecting with the mail covering his groin. He stopped dead, doubled over in pain, and a groan from the crowd showed the sympathy half of them felt. Ismene raised her foot and kicked his side, pushing him over so he lay curled up and prone on the ground.
"Do you yield?"
"No! You do not fight honourably!" His accent was difficult to understand, especially as he was talking through gritted teeth.
"It's not against the rules"
Geoff, from his vantage point near the back of the crowd, wondered what was taking so long. Ismene and the prince seemed to be having a discussion. The crowd had started a rude chant about male parts, and he suppressed the urge to join in.
"Yield!" Ismene cried exasperatedly. The prince shook his head and made to get up, feeling the pain a little less. "Yield or I'll cut your head off!" She pressed her blade to his throat. "That's not an idle threat – I've killed Princes before!"
The Prussian understood the menace in her voice and sank back down to his knees.
"I yield." He turned his blade and handed it to her, hilt first.
"Thank you." Ismene held his sword up to the cheers of the crowd.
~**~
"That was amazing!" Geoffrey caught Ismene up in his arms as she came out from under the stand after giving her sword to Thomas. He was being besieged by admiring fans, and she was able to slip away unnoticed.
"Thanks!" she hugged him tightly. "He didn't want to yield!" She pulled back – her hair was a bit damp and she was still getting her breath back, but apart from that she might have walked straight out of the crowd instead of from the ring.
"Perhaps because you stabbed him in the balls, darling."
"All's fair in love and war"
"Ah, a woman after my own heart!" Geoff draped his arm around her shoulders as they began to walk back to the street. "Would you like some refreshment?"
"A drink would be great"
They stopped at a stall and bought water, then sat on a nearby wall.
"It's weird, coming straight from the ring and having to act like nothing's happened – while Thomas takes all the glory."
"If it's any consolation I'm a fan" Geoffrey said. "When Thomas is famous I can tell people I took him for dinner once upon a time."
Ismene laughed. "You might damage his reputation! Anyway, it'll never go that far – I don't need to win the event, I just need to win enough money from betting on myself."
Geoff thought wistfully of his 'little problem'. "It's all very well – but I wouldn't like to see you get hurt."
Ismene blushed a little. "I won't get hurt – at least, if I do, it won't be as bad as any injuries I've had before."
"What do you mean?"
"Geoff, I grew up around wars – the law of averages says you get hit by an arrow or something once in a while."
Geoffrey raised his eyebrows. "An arrow?"
"I'm joking! It was actually a crossbow bolt..." She finished her water and slid down from the wall, regarding the writer with her hands on her hips.
"When's Villeux on?"
"Eleve...oh shit!" Geoffrey jumped from the wall and sprang off down the street. "I'm late!" he yelled back as Ismene stood agape. She set off after him, running through the winding lanes of the camp, dodging peasants and squires until finally arriving, breathless, at the jousting ring.
"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Geoffrey, having reached the ring already, cried between breaths to the waiting crowd. "Forgive me my tardiness – I was detained by a beautiful young lady..." wolf-whistles sounded from the crowd. "...who asked me to purvey a message of her affections to the man you are about to see SLAY his opponent! I give you the one, the only, Count Villeux!"
Villeux appeared on his bay stallion, which was clad in shining mail as was he. Kate had done a good job with the engraving – his emblem could clearly be seen on the plate, and a matching design adorned a pennant tied to his lance. At almost 16 feet long, the lance needed enormous strength to wield, and Villeux held it proudly as his horse danced and pawed at the ground. His opponent was similarly clad in mail, and his lance was just as massive – it had always amazed Ismene that men would want to sit on a horse, unmoving due to the weight of their armour and the presence of the high saddle keeping them there, and allow themselves to be run at by a huge stake. Still, it was a noble sport, and one which could bring not only money but esteem and recognition. As she was contemplating this and marvelling at their finery, Geoffrey came from the ring and took her arm, leading her to stand beside Wat and Roland whose presence she'd not noticed.
The knights brought their horses to separate ends of the jousting ring, on separate sides of the ornate wooden divider. The crowd hushed as they faced each other, and suddenly, without any command from either side, they spurred their horses and charged towards each other. The crowd went wild – Ismene's heart jumped into her throat as they covered the ground with a thud of hooves and a clatter of metal.
"Come on Villeux!" Roland shouted.
"Kill! Kill!" Wat screamed.
With only a few strides left the knights lowered their lances, special troughs on their armour keeping them level, and the crowd gasped as Villeux's lance caught his opponent in the shoulder, breaking into splinters and knocking the man backwards against the cantle. Wat grabbed a spare lance from against the stadium wall, and he and Wat ran out to re-arm their master. The opposing knight's squires did the same as his horse slowed to a walk, and he leant down to talk to them, clutching his shoulder.
"He's hurt!" Geoff said triumphantly. "It's his lance arm too – that gives Villeux an advantage"
"Yeah, but I bet he's even more determined now" Ismene said as the man turned his horse to take up position ready for the next charge.
Villeux was soon ready at the other end, and again without a signal they spurred their horses to a gallop, and Ismene knew that they wouldn't be hearing the crowd anymore – all they would see was each other, closing quickly at the end of a lance. This time, Villeux's aim was bad, and his lance went wide. A moment later his opponent's lance hit him in the chest, not breaking but glancing off his armour and barely shaking him from the saddle. Wat and Roland ran up behind him and steadied his lance as he told them he was fine.
"A scratch!" Ismene heard him declare. "Barely even that – I will unhorse him now!"
Sure enough, on the next run, Villeux's lance connected head-on high on his opponent's chest, lifting him from the saddle so he landed roughly on his back on the dusty ground. His squires ran over to see if he was alright, and the crowd went wild as Villeux saluted them, taking off his helm so they could all see his face. Geoffrey applauded, but didn't look as happy as he might.
"Aren't you pleased?" Ismene asked.
"Yes...but he's a vain bastard" He jogged out to stand by his master, and said a few well-chosen words about his glory when the crowd had finally hushed. Villeux spent a few more minutes basking in praise, then spurred his horse to a walk out of the stadium, stopping in front of Ismene.
"Surely such a beautiful woman did not come to watch me joust?" he said, and Ismene frowned a little at his advances, but before she could open her mouth to reply, a high-pitched voice behind her giggled.
"I may have done, Sir Knight. Would you do me the honour of taking my handkerchief?"
The well-dressed woman pushed past Ismene and held out a small silk square to Villeux, who took it graciously and held it to his heart.
"Of course – I am sure it will be bring me victory!" He leaned down and took the woman's hand, kissing it and causing her to giggle again. Ismene turned away from the display, almost bumping into Geoffrey, who smiled down at her ironically.
"See what I mean?"
~**~
"He's been drawn against Chiswick" Roland said as he entered the tent. It was a few hours after the joust, and he, Wat, Ismene, Thomas and Geoffrey had just returned from a lunch purchased by Villeux's good will. Kate said she was too busy to go, which could have been true, but could also have been caused by Thomas's presence. Roland had stopped off at the lists on the way back so he could find out about his master's new opponent.
Geoffrey was reclining on some skins on the floor, feeling very full. "Do we know anything about him?"
"I talked to the guy he's just beaten" Roland said, sitting down. "Says he's a hard sod"
"Chiswick?" Ismene mused. She felt a bit light-headed from wine, and was sitting back-to-back with Thomas; they were holding each other up. "Haven't I seen him somewhere?"
"Yeah" Thomas said. "Chiswick the Younger's in the sword-on-foot. You must mean Chiswick the Elder" he said to Roland. "We saw the Younger one beating the life out of his squire the other day – someone told us they were both to be avoided."
"Great" Geoffrey said. "Maybe they'll take Villeux down a peg or two."
Wat looked shocked from his place in a corner of the large tent. "You're supposed to be *loyal*!"
"I don't like him either" Roland said. "He's always wanting some new shirt sewn or for his mail to be shinier...and then he only goes and gets it muddy..."
"You sound like his wife" Thomas said, and Roland threw a ball of string at him.
"Well, I think you should watch out for him" Thomas said. "From what I've heard I wouldn't be surprised if he tried something funny."
"You mean, cheating?" Roland asked, remembering the time Count Adhemar had tried to kill William.
"Maybe. I wouldn't put it past him"
"We'll be on the lookout then" Roland said.
"Couldn't you get drawn against Chiswick the Younger then?" Geoff asked from his position on the floor.
"I guess so" Ismene replied. "But only if I win this round. I'm up against Baron Michel of Austria next, and I don't plan to do very well."
"What?" Roland was dismayed. "But you could *win*! Think about it – a woman winning the event – it'd be hilarious! I can just see the looks on the judges faces..."
"I could *try*" Ismene said.
"Oh come on, you could win" Thomas laughed. "I've seen you when you get angry...even Chiswick wouldn't stand a chance." Roland looked questioning. "This is the woman who took down six men-at-arms because they threatened to sell her to the local tavern-keeper" he explained.
"There were five of them" Ismene argued. "But I was quite angry, as you can imagine." She sighed. "The thing is, if we bet all our money on this one fight for me to lose, and I do, we'll be set for about a year. I can get to France and Thomas can set himself up in London. If I try and win though, it means a lot of trouble and if I get discovered we could lose everything. I just think it's safer to quit while we're ahead."
Geoff nodded his agreement, thinking she'd be much safer out of the ring, and even Roland grudgingly assented.
"I suppose so" he allowed. "But it'd still be great if you won...more shocking than when Will did!"
"I'll bet on you to lose then?" Thomas asked, turning his head to try and see his friend.
"Yes, I think that's best."
"You know...if we know the outcome of the fight for definite, we could *all* gamble" Geoffrey said. Roland shook a finger at him.
"You know you're not supposed to!"
Ismene frowned – he had done only a couple of days ago, she'd been there – she didn't think he'd told anyone about it though.
"But it can't hurt if I can't lose!"
"No Geoff!"
"You imprison my very soul!" he cried, sitting up. "It's wrong to restrain natural urges, even if they're frowned upon by certain members of society..." he looked pointedly at Roland.
"If everyone did what they liked the world would be overrun by murderers and the like" Roland pointed out. "I'm sorry Geoff, but if you end up without clothes again I'm not making you any more!"
~**~
The rest of the day passed in similar lazy fashion for Ismene – she had little to do except exercise her horse, which she did by going for a ride in the woods, accompanied by a gloomy Thomas. Geoffrey stayed in the tent catching up on his neglected writing, for which he said so much material had recently been provided he could be busy for days. Wat and Roland were sent for by Villeux and put to work, but the group planned to meet up that night for dinner at The Bay Horse, which was reputed for its good food and strong mead.
"I bet Kate won't join us again" Thomas sighed as he rode Plato alongside Ismene's Orthos. "Roland spoke to me earlier – he said that she doesn't trust me and I'll have to do something pretty good to win her back."
"Well why don't you?" Ismene asked. "I'm not surprised she doesn't trust you..."
"But I couldn't help lying!"
"I know – I'm not saying it's your fault...I'm just saying I can see things from her point of view. She's a Ferrier – it's a man's job and she's probably spent her whole life trying to earn respect and show she's not a walkover, then you come along and she lets herself like you and it turns out you're not the man she thought you were! I'd be a bit pissed off too."
"But what can I do about it?"
"Talk to her I suppose. Prove to her you're just as good a milliner as a Count"
"What if she only liked me for my title?"
"Then she's shallow and not worth the trouble. But I don't think she's that sort of person – just let her know how sorry you are"
Thomas sighed again. "I will"
"Before tonight?"
"Yes..." he didn't sound too convincing, and Ismene glanced at him questioningly.
"I will...I just have to work up the courage for it."
~**~
When they got back to town and had stabled the horses, Thomas set off to the blacksmith's quarter.
"Kate?" he called tentatively on entering the tent. Kate was engaged in beating some plate armour, and looking menacing wielding the hammer. She looked up and started when she saw who it was.
"What do you want?" She lowered her hand but didn't let go of the instrument.
"To talk to you" he stepped further into the tent. "I want to tell you how sorry I am."
"Sorry?" Kate looked amazed. "You lied to me Thomas!"
"I know – but I had to, about my title and job. Everything else is true – everything I told you I'd done, I have. Everywhere I said I'd been, I have! I was telling the truth when I said you were beautiful and I think you're the most amazing woman..." he lowered his gaze. "If you don't want to be with me because I'm not a Count, I'll accept that, but I just wanted you to know that you don't have to doubt how I feel about you."
Kate was silent. She slowly put down the hammer and walked over to him, then put her arms around him and pulled him close. "I don't care if you're a Count or a peasant" she said. "If you really are who I think you are inside, that's enough."
"I am" Thomas said, hugging her back.