Disclaimer: No AKT characters are mine, fic is for fun.
"Have you heard the news?!" Thomas bounded into Ismene's room later that day, grinning like an idiot and gesturing wildly.
"No. What is it?" Ismene, lying on her bed resting after her earlier exertions, found herself caught up in his excitement despite herself.
"There's a ball to be held tonight at the manor – all the knights are invited!"
"A ball? I thought that didn't happen until *after* the tournament?"
"Well, normally it does, but I think the Lord of these parts likes parties. Anyway, I'm a knight so I'm invited, and I'm going to ask Kate!"
Since Thomas and Kate had got together the day before, they'd been almost inseparable, and Ismene reminded him gently that a Count would be expected to take a Lady, not a Ferrier.
"I don't care, people can think what they like. Anyway – my retinue is invited, so that means you. I hope you have a decent dress?"
"Erm...no." Ismene said. "Do I have to go?"
"Yes! It wouldn't do for me to go alone – the other knights'd think me a pauper!"
"You are a pauper"
"That's not the point. Here..." he dug into his pocket and handed her some coins. "Go into town and get something nice to wear."
"Yes sir" Ismene said sarcastically, but took the coins and pocketed them. If she had to go she had to go, and she'd certainly need something to wear. She left Thomas to ransack his pack looking for something clean, and went to a clothiers in Oxford. The woman who owned the shop was ancient, with eyes so rheumy it was a wonder she could see to sew, but when Ismene had looked through dozens of dresses and finally chosen the one she wanted, the woman took her measurements with a practised hand and promised it would be altered in time for the ball.
~**~
Seeing the old woman had taken Ismene till after lunch, and she now went to the jousting arena to watch Villeux in the semi-final. Or rather, she went to see Geoff. This was an important fight against Lord Chiswick, and she couldn't keep away. When she arrived, Geoff was talking to the Count as Wat and Roland fixed the last pieces of mail to his stallion. Thomas and Kate were standing to one side, and she went over to talk to them.
"Ismene!" Kate cried on seeing her. "Are you ok? I heard about what happened..."
"I'm fine" she replied. "Just bruised...have I missed anything?"
"No, they're just getting ready. Villeux spent ages asking Wat if his hair looked alright. Wat didn't have a clue so he's asking Geoff now."
Villeux did indeed seem to be gesturing to his hair, and Ismene laughed. "God, but he loves himself!"
"He has reason to, I think" Thomas put in. "See all those women over there?" He pointed, and Ismene saw that about a dozen well-dressed ladies were sitting in the stands, fluttering fans and whispering to each other, all watching Count Villeux or his opponent at the other end of the stadium. "Now why don't the sword-on-foot competitors get that sort of attention?"
Kate slapped him on the arm, and he kissed her forehead to appease her. Shortly, the conversation on hairstyles ended, and Roland ran back to join them while Wat fiddled with the lance, trying to make it sit level on Villeux's arm before he let go. Geoffrey stepped into the middle of the ring, and raised his arms for silence.
"Gracious spectators!" he began. "You are here to witness the greatest event of the tournament, second only to the final itself, and I can promise you that the knight you are about to see will be the victor of both! May I present to you, the man who has won a hundred jousts, who can make ladies swoon with a single glance, whose love poetry brings a tear to the eye - Count Francois Villeux!"
Francois? Ismene mused. She hadn't known his first name before, but this one seemed fitting. Chiswick's herald ran on before the applause had died down, and he pushed Geoffrey out of the way to take centre stage. Geoff stalked out of the ring with a scowl, but brightened when he saw Ismene.
"How do you feel?" he asked as the other herald began his speech. He had accompanied her to the inn where she wanted to rest, and was genuinely concerned.
"I'm fine" she said. "I feel a lot better now."
"Who do you think'll win?" Thomas asked, looking longingly at the bookie's stands nearby.
"Villeux has a good chance" Roland replied. "but Chiswick's determined. I don't like the look of his men."
Chiswick's squires were staring at them from the other end of the ring. They were all large men, unshaven and mean-looking. His herald was scrawny however, and had a nasal voice which carried threats of death to his master's opponent.
"...he will die on my lord's spear, and his soul will go to hell where it belongs..."
Ismene shuddered at the sight of the man's eyes – they were wide and wild and when they travelled over her they seemed to send a chill to her bones. Geoff, noticing her discomfort, put an arm round her shoulders and she gratefully leaned against his tall figure.
When the man had finished, Chiswick rode out, and if anything his armour was shinier and more expensive-looking than was Villeux's, although it was difficult to imagine how that could have occurred. They stopped their horses at opposite ends of the run, and simultaneously slammed down their visors with a resounding double clang. Villeux spurred his stallion first, and Chiswick followed a second later, so that they thundered towards each other as the crowd hushed in anticipation. Ismene felt Geoff's arm tighten around her, and she reached up to grab a handful of his shirt as the knights collided, wood splintering and horses faltering as the weight of man and armour shifted on their backs. Both men had scored direct hits but neither had been unhorsed, and their squires ran out to re-arm them and turn the horses round.
Once Wat and Roland had returned, they reported on the state of their master.
"He says he's fine" Roland said. "but he looks a bit pale – I think he's a bit surprised he got hit."
"He'll be wary next time then." Thomas observed.
"He says Chiswick is the devil's son and he plans to slay him."
"Why?" Kate asked.
"Well, you know he got into a fight with Chiswick's brother last night?" Roland said.
"Really?" Ismene looked questioningly at Geoff, who shrugged to say he wasn't aware of it.
"Yeah, it seems that after he rescued you him and Chiswick the Younger had a little scuffle, and now he wants vengeance. He's asked for a longer lance."
Ismene looked, and she now saw that his lance was a foot or so longer than his opponent's.
"Is that allowed?"
"I'm not sure" Geoff said. "But it'll certainly give him an advantage"
Sure enough, on the next run, Villeux's lance connected with Chiswick's shoulder before the other man's weapon got close, and Chiswick was knocked back roughly against his high saddle, his helm flying off so his dark hair flew free. He wore a grimace of pain, which quickly turned to a scowl of anger as he began shouting at his squires to move faster when re-arming him.
"Villeux leads now" Geoff observed. The knights scored points for direct hits, so even if no-one was unhorsed there'd still be a winner. The next run saw Chiswick scraping some points back and he scored a glancing blow from Villeux's helm. "Not much damage done there then" Roland observed, meaning that Villeux didn't have much brain to lose. The next run saw both lances miss their targets, and the crowd started a chant which demanded action.
"This is the last run, right?" Thomas asked, and Ismene nodded. Whoever did the best now would probably win, as so far the scores were pretty even.
Chiswick and Villeux regarded each other across a hundred yards or so of open ground. Their horses snorted and pawed the ground, steam coming from their necks. With a battle cry, Chiswick broke into a gallop, and Villeux rode hard to meet him.
Perhaps it was the formers wild anger which caused him to be careless, but when his lance missed Villeux by a foot, he let out a cry of surprise before being thrown off his horse by his opponent's weapon. He jumped to his feet quickly, stamping in rage and swearing at his squires, and the crowd howled its derision as Villeux was named the victor.
Ismene clapped and whistled, but didn't join the others in jumping about congratulating the Frenchman – her ribs hurt too much. Geoffrey made a short speech, then returned to his friends as Roland and Wat went to help their master undress.
"Well, that's that" he grinned, happy that Chiswick was vanquished. "You'll come and see the final?"
"Wild horses couldn't keep us away" Kate replied.
"A hangover could though" Thomas said. "Have you heard about the ball tonight?"
"What ball?"
"There's a ball up at the manor house for all the knights and their retinues. We're going, so's Ismene, I think..." he looked at her questioningly.
"Yeah, I'll be there."
"Splendid." Geoffrey said. "I'm sure Villeux will want us to attend. I'll see you then."
Villeux was calling for his assistance, and he jogged off to see what he was needed for.
"I've got some work to do" Kate said. "I'd better get back to the forge."
"I'll help you" Thomas said, and Ismene guessed that the 'work' might have nothing to do with metallurgy.
"You two have fun" she said. "I'm off for lunch, then rest. Will you come for me on the way to the ball?"
"Of course" Thomas said. "I'll have to come back to the inn to change anyway. See
you later"
"Bye bye"
"Have you heard the news?!" Thomas bounded into Ismene's room later that day, grinning like an idiot and gesturing wildly.
"No. What is it?" Ismene, lying on her bed resting after her earlier exertions, found herself caught up in his excitement despite herself.
"There's a ball to be held tonight at the manor – all the knights are invited!"
"A ball? I thought that didn't happen until *after* the tournament?"
"Well, normally it does, but I think the Lord of these parts likes parties. Anyway, I'm a knight so I'm invited, and I'm going to ask Kate!"
Since Thomas and Kate had got together the day before, they'd been almost inseparable, and Ismene reminded him gently that a Count would be expected to take a Lady, not a Ferrier.
"I don't care, people can think what they like. Anyway – my retinue is invited, so that means you. I hope you have a decent dress?"
"Erm...no." Ismene said. "Do I have to go?"
"Yes! It wouldn't do for me to go alone – the other knights'd think me a pauper!"
"You are a pauper"
"That's not the point. Here..." he dug into his pocket and handed her some coins. "Go into town and get something nice to wear."
"Yes sir" Ismene said sarcastically, but took the coins and pocketed them. If she had to go she had to go, and she'd certainly need something to wear. She left Thomas to ransack his pack looking for something clean, and went to a clothiers in Oxford. The woman who owned the shop was ancient, with eyes so rheumy it was a wonder she could see to sew, but when Ismene had looked through dozens of dresses and finally chosen the one she wanted, the woman took her measurements with a practised hand and promised it would be altered in time for the ball.
~**~
Seeing the old woman had taken Ismene till after lunch, and she now went to the jousting arena to watch Villeux in the semi-final. Or rather, she went to see Geoff. This was an important fight against Lord Chiswick, and she couldn't keep away. When she arrived, Geoff was talking to the Count as Wat and Roland fixed the last pieces of mail to his stallion. Thomas and Kate were standing to one side, and she went over to talk to them.
"Ismene!" Kate cried on seeing her. "Are you ok? I heard about what happened..."
"I'm fine" she replied. "Just bruised...have I missed anything?"
"No, they're just getting ready. Villeux spent ages asking Wat if his hair looked alright. Wat didn't have a clue so he's asking Geoff now."
Villeux did indeed seem to be gesturing to his hair, and Ismene laughed. "God, but he loves himself!"
"He has reason to, I think" Thomas put in. "See all those women over there?" He pointed, and Ismene saw that about a dozen well-dressed ladies were sitting in the stands, fluttering fans and whispering to each other, all watching Count Villeux or his opponent at the other end of the stadium. "Now why don't the sword-on-foot competitors get that sort of attention?"
Kate slapped him on the arm, and he kissed her forehead to appease her. Shortly, the conversation on hairstyles ended, and Roland ran back to join them while Wat fiddled with the lance, trying to make it sit level on Villeux's arm before he let go. Geoffrey stepped into the middle of the ring, and raised his arms for silence.
"Gracious spectators!" he began. "You are here to witness the greatest event of the tournament, second only to the final itself, and I can promise you that the knight you are about to see will be the victor of both! May I present to you, the man who has won a hundred jousts, who can make ladies swoon with a single glance, whose love poetry brings a tear to the eye - Count Francois Villeux!"
Francois? Ismene mused. She hadn't known his first name before, but this one seemed fitting. Chiswick's herald ran on before the applause had died down, and he pushed Geoffrey out of the way to take centre stage. Geoff stalked out of the ring with a scowl, but brightened when he saw Ismene.
"How do you feel?" he asked as the other herald began his speech. He had accompanied her to the inn where she wanted to rest, and was genuinely concerned.
"I'm fine" she said. "I feel a lot better now."
"Who do you think'll win?" Thomas asked, looking longingly at the bookie's stands nearby.
"Villeux has a good chance" Roland replied. "but Chiswick's determined. I don't like the look of his men."
Chiswick's squires were staring at them from the other end of the ring. They were all large men, unshaven and mean-looking. His herald was scrawny however, and had a nasal voice which carried threats of death to his master's opponent.
"...he will die on my lord's spear, and his soul will go to hell where it belongs..."
Ismene shuddered at the sight of the man's eyes – they were wide and wild and when they travelled over her they seemed to send a chill to her bones. Geoff, noticing her discomfort, put an arm round her shoulders and she gratefully leaned against his tall figure.
When the man had finished, Chiswick rode out, and if anything his armour was shinier and more expensive-looking than was Villeux's, although it was difficult to imagine how that could have occurred. They stopped their horses at opposite ends of the run, and simultaneously slammed down their visors with a resounding double clang. Villeux spurred his stallion first, and Chiswick followed a second later, so that they thundered towards each other as the crowd hushed in anticipation. Ismene felt Geoff's arm tighten around her, and she reached up to grab a handful of his shirt as the knights collided, wood splintering and horses faltering as the weight of man and armour shifted on their backs. Both men had scored direct hits but neither had been unhorsed, and their squires ran out to re-arm them and turn the horses round.
Once Wat and Roland had returned, they reported on the state of their master.
"He says he's fine" Roland said. "but he looks a bit pale – I think he's a bit surprised he got hit."
"He'll be wary next time then." Thomas observed.
"He says Chiswick is the devil's son and he plans to slay him."
"Why?" Kate asked.
"Well, you know he got into a fight with Chiswick's brother last night?" Roland said.
"Really?" Ismene looked questioningly at Geoff, who shrugged to say he wasn't aware of it.
"Yeah, it seems that after he rescued you him and Chiswick the Younger had a little scuffle, and now he wants vengeance. He's asked for a longer lance."
Ismene looked, and she now saw that his lance was a foot or so longer than his opponent's.
"Is that allowed?"
"I'm not sure" Geoff said. "But it'll certainly give him an advantage"
Sure enough, on the next run, Villeux's lance connected with Chiswick's shoulder before the other man's weapon got close, and Chiswick was knocked back roughly against his high saddle, his helm flying off so his dark hair flew free. He wore a grimace of pain, which quickly turned to a scowl of anger as he began shouting at his squires to move faster when re-arming him.
"Villeux leads now" Geoff observed. The knights scored points for direct hits, so even if no-one was unhorsed there'd still be a winner. The next run saw Chiswick scraping some points back and he scored a glancing blow from Villeux's helm. "Not much damage done there then" Roland observed, meaning that Villeux didn't have much brain to lose. The next run saw both lances miss their targets, and the crowd started a chant which demanded action.
"This is the last run, right?" Thomas asked, and Ismene nodded. Whoever did the best now would probably win, as so far the scores were pretty even.
Chiswick and Villeux regarded each other across a hundred yards or so of open ground. Their horses snorted and pawed the ground, steam coming from their necks. With a battle cry, Chiswick broke into a gallop, and Villeux rode hard to meet him.
Perhaps it was the formers wild anger which caused him to be careless, but when his lance missed Villeux by a foot, he let out a cry of surprise before being thrown off his horse by his opponent's weapon. He jumped to his feet quickly, stamping in rage and swearing at his squires, and the crowd howled its derision as Villeux was named the victor.
Ismene clapped and whistled, but didn't join the others in jumping about congratulating the Frenchman – her ribs hurt too much. Geoffrey made a short speech, then returned to his friends as Roland and Wat went to help their master undress.
"Well, that's that" he grinned, happy that Chiswick was vanquished. "You'll come and see the final?"
"Wild horses couldn't keep us away" Kate replied.
"A hangover could though" Thomas said. "Have you heard about the ball tonight?"
"What ball?"
"There's a ball up at the manor house for all the knights and their retinues. We're going, so's Ismene, I think..." he looked at her questioningly.
"Yeah, I'll be there."
"Splendid." Geoffrey said. "I'm sure Villeux will want us to attend. I'll see you then."
Villeux was calling for his assistance, and he jogged off to see what he was needed for.
"I've got some work to do" Kate said. "I'd better get back to the forge."
"I'll help you" Thomas said, and Ismene guessed that the 'work' might have nothing to do with metallurgy.
"You two have fun" she said. "I'm off for lunch, then rest. Will you come for me on the way to the ball?"
"Of course" Thomas said. "I'll have to come back to the inn to change anyway. See
you later"
"Bye bye"