Chapter the Thirty-Sixth: The Lady's Favor
19 Fairdawn 2076
"Hah!" A young girl exclaimed, throwing all the might of her eight years into swinging the stick in her hands.
"Very good!" Lyra laughed cheerfully. "Here, let's try it with your hands just a little higher," the Archen princess glanced up and met Galen's eye with a bright smile as she adjusted her pupil's grip. A dozen more village girls of varying ages gathered around her to see.
Leaning against the fountain in the center of the village square, the Narnian chuckled at the endearing sight. The mid-morning sun peeked intermittently from behind lacey white clouds, and a crisp breeze flowed from the nearby sea. A few of Lyra's faithful marine guard stood discretely nearby, not so close as to intimidate the little Seven Islanders but close enough to warrant the occasional curious glance.
As Lyra continued the lesson, Galen mused. He observed that the Seven Isles' gentle king bore no resemblance to the haughty nobles governing their previous ports of call. The evening before, King Richard welcomed Lyra, Galen, and Captain Anderson to dine privately with him, his son, and two of his closest advisors, including Sir Pelinor, the general in command of the king's knights. Prince Robin made the meal a lively affair, but once the servants brought after-dinner tea and coffee, his father bade him goodnight and kindly commended him to the care of his faithful nurse.
"I am glad beyond all hope that you are well, my lady," the king spoke earnestly once his young son left the room. "Grave reports reached us from Terebinthia."
The Archen princess thanked him gratefully for his concern. "Unfortunately, my safety came at great cost," she answered remorsefully. Upon hearing their tale, King Richard assured Captain Anderson that he would increase the castle's guard and instructed Sir Pelinor to put any needed knights at his disposal.
"If war with Calormen should come, my lady, be assured that the Seven Isles will faithfully fight at Archenland's side."
"We are grateful beyond words, your majesty," Lyra inclined her head in thanks. "I dearly pray that does not come to pass."
"As do we all," the king agreed.
"Are you a knight?" A pert voice interrupted Galen's reverie, bringing him back to the village square and the morning's light. An inquisitive boy of about twelve years looked up at him curiously.
"Why, yes, I am," the Narnian answered with a smile.
"Knights don't usually come with Princess Lyra," he observed, leaning against the fountain next to Galen.
"Well in that case, more's the honor," the young knight observed in return, equally matter of fact.
"Can I see your sword?"
"Well, I—"
As the inquisitive youngster began to quiz Galen on his adventures, Lyra approached and, stifling a chuckle, gave him relief from the interrogation.
"My lord," she began grandly, "yon ladies of the Seven Isles pray you join me in a demonstration of swordsmanship," she gestured to the cluster of girls, who flushed and giggled at her speech.
Straightening, Galen swept a bow to them, triggering another fit of giggles. "I happily accept my ladies' challenge," his eyes twinkled. "At your pleasure, your highness," he inclined his head to the princess.
As the two friends took positions well clear of the children, Galen noticed that his interrogator had scampered off and now returned with a goodly number of compatriots. The boys clustered around the fountain, whispering in earnest as they watched the two warriors draw their swords and salute.
As soon as the two friends began to spar, the children overcame their shyness and cheered them on loudly.
"My, we make quite the spectacle," Galen remarked as he parried a strike.
"Indeed we do," Lyra laughed freely.
The Narnian knight let his Archen friend set the pace, sparring easily enough to entertain the children without frightening them. After a little while, Lyra began to fight more seriously, and their spectators cheered with delight. At length, it was the Archenlander's turn to best her Narnian friend. The throng of children surrounded them as they sheathed their swords, laughing and plying them with questions and praise.
"Sir knight, do you mind losing to a lady?" A young girl with flaxen pigtails shyly asked Galen. Noting a few of the nearby boys flushing with vicarious embarrassment, he smiled broadly and took a knee to bring himself to her eye level.
"Nay, my lady, a true knight is never embarrassed to lose a match to a worthy opponent, be they knight or lady," he answered and, winking at the boys, continued, "besides, I've won a match or two in my time."
At this gallant reply, the girl's pale blue eyes lit up.
"Do you think I could be a worthy opponent some day?"
"Without a doubt!" Galen answered with an encouraging smile, and the young girl curtseyed happily and bounded off with her friends.
When the two friends returned to the castle, they found the ever energetic Prince Robin waiting for them.
"Princess Lyra! Princess Lyra!" He came flying out of the castle gate to bounce alongside them and the marines. "Will you take me to the waterfalls today?"
"After luncheon, if your father approves, I'd be delighted," she answered, smiling at her eager young friend, who, at her affirmative reply, shouted gleefully and dashed off in search of the king to acquire the necessary permission.
"No diplomatic functions in the way, my lady?" Galen asked hopefully as they continued back to the castle's interior. His friend laughed.
"By the Lion's Grace, not here. The Seven Isles' alliance with Archenland is longstanding and secure. This visit is more a holiday than anything else. King Richard graciously scheduled only one event of note, and that's for fun—a tournament and banquet next week."
Galen nodded thoughtfully. "How does the Seven Isles structure its tournaments?" The Narnian was trying very hard to sound knowledgeable and to avoid looking puzzled.
"About the same way everyone else north of Calormen does," Lyra responded nonchalantly. Her friend did not respond, and when she glanced at him she could see a little color rising in his cheeks. "Oh, no!" She exclaimed, her hand flying to cover a laughing smile. "You don't really know what a tournament is, do you?"
The young Narnian's cheeks were quite red now, and he avoided her mirthful eye. "Well, I've heard a few stories about them. But, you know, it isn't exactly a usual activity for people who live hiding in the woods."
"Oh, I am sorry," she apologized contritely, but her eyes were still smiling. "I think I'll let our young friend tell you all about the tournament this afternoon."
Thus mollified, Galen inclined his head in thanks, an embarrassed smile still lingering on his lips.
"The tournament will be grand, this time, my lady! Four whole days!" Robin's piping voice declared as he bounced along on his pony besides the princess's dappled trail mare. Galen rode on her other side upon a dark brown saddle horse, and the ever-familiar contingent of marines followed nearby. The early afternoon sun shone sporadically through the cloud cover and saw them climbing the hills a few miles away from Redhaven. With some satisfaction, Galen finally felt he was acclimating to riding an ordinary horse. Lyra laughed, tossing her hair behind her, and bade the young prince tell them more.
"Well, Father organized it this time in two competitions—jousting and swordsmanship—with two days for each. The best jouster takes a prize, but the sixteen best jousters win a place in the swordsmanship competition, and the winner of that competition will take the tournament."
"Ah, I see," the princess observed.
"The fair around the tournament will be set up for the whole week!" the little Seven Islander's voice rose excitedly. "The acrobatic company from Muil is coming! And the troubadours from Cranaugh!"
"Exciting indeed, my friend!"
"Oh, you will come with me to explore the fair, won't you? Father always lets me have so many more adventures with you around. Nanny is all well and good," he referred to his nurse with a shrug, "but she's not very quick and not very adventurous."
"I'm honored with your father's confidence," Lyra laughed. "I'd enjoy nothing more!"
"Wonderful!" The prince clapped joyfully. "You must come too, Sir Galen! We don't see much of Archen knights, after all. Just the marines, usually."
"Thank you, your highness," Galen responded. "It sounds like a shame to miss, after all!"
"If only I was big enough to be a knight and charge the field with my lance at the ready!" Robin spurred his pony into a gallop and sped ahead shouting a charge, leaving Lyra and Galen laughing behind him.
Presently, they caught up to the young prince at the foot of a rocky hill. Here they left the horses and continued on foot up the rocks. At the top, the moss-covered ground sloped away towards a shallow river fed by five waterfalls. The sight's rugged beauty stole Galen's breath, but he soon hurried to follow the prince and princess to the riverbank.
"Robin, why don't you tell Galen some more about the tournaments?" Lyra's eyes twinkled as she helped the young prince hunt for river rocks. (Evidently, the prince had a certain sort of rock in mind.)
"Oh, goodness, there's far too much to tell. My favorite part is when the knights parade in with their flags snapping gallantly!" He announced, scrutinizing a particularly smooth, round rock. Unsatisfied, he tossed it back in the water.
"The ladies of the court like that part too, if I recall," Lyra remarked.
"They really are a sight," Robin wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Every one of them fighting for a good spot, hoping some knight will notice them and wear their token in the tournament."
Lyra and Galen laughed at this derisive description.
"Father says a knight with any sense wouldn't take a token from so eager a lady," he groused, still fishing around for rocks. After a moment, a mischievous look took hold in his eyes, and all of a sudden he splashed the two friends vigorously. With shouts of indignation, Lyra and Galen leapt to take their revenge, and by the time they returned to their horses they were all more wet than dry.
After the princess insisted that the young prince don a dry cloak from her saddlebag (a hard-learned precaution), the happy group returned to the castle as the sun dipped behind the mountains.
Upon their return, Lyra excused herself to dress for tea with the king, a standing invitation she rarely declined. Before the prince's nurse collected him, Galen took the opportunity to ask a question.
"If a person wanted to learn to joust, Prince Robin, who would be the best person to ask?"
"Ask Sir Pelinor—he's probably at the training grounds," the prince piped nonchalantly before hurrying off.
Taking the prince's suggestion, Galen took the opportunity to wander over to the castle's training grounds, which included a jousting field, before the sun set.
There, he found Sir Pelinor, as promised, coaching two young knights as they practiced jousting.
"Keep the lance up! Higher, I say!" The general raised his voice. "That's better."
Galen joined him at the rail and acknowledged the older knight.
"Ah, Sir Galen, isn't it?" Sir Pelinor greeted, grasping his hand warmly. "Welcome."
The Narnian nodded his thanks. As the two knights finished, Galen broached the question he had on his mind.
"Sir Pelinor, would you be willing to teach me the basics of jousting?"
The older knight's brow furrowed. "Odd for an Archen knight not to know how to joust," he puzzled.
"In all honesty, I am but lately come into the Archen service. I am a free Narnian, one of the last, and learned the sword and bow, but not the lance."
"So, you're that knight," he remarked, raising an eyebrow. "We've heard rumors," he chuckled. Sir Pelinor scrutinized the young knight for a moment.
"Very well," the Seven Islander nodded. "Be here at dawn tomorrow morning."
Each morning for the rest of the week, Sir Pelinor instructed the young Narnian. The two developed a quick respect for each other, and despite Galen's inexperience, he learned the sport rapidly. The jousting horses, thankfully, were well trained and barely required Galen's guidance. Each afternoon, when Lyra joined the king for tea, Galen snuck away to practice. Despite his efforts to slip away unnoticed, Lyra noticed his disappearances with amusement, which she kept to herself. Although she did not question her friend, she did discretely question Prince Robin.
As knights, merchants, performers, and visitors converged on the Redhaven tournament grounds and the fair came to life, Prince Robin, Lyra, and Galen made the promised visit. They walked the short distance to the wide field down the hill from the castle. A jousting arena lay at the center, with many brightly colored tents for the knights and their squires surrounding it. People bustled to and fro making preparations, and the warm, spicy smell of roasting nuts wafted past as they turned the corner and made their way through the avenues of makeshift booths. They could hear the faint strains of a lute and the muffled thud of hoof beats as visiting knights participated in light lancework demonstrations.
Lyra lifted the embroidered hem of her familiar burgundy linen dress out of the way of her boots as Prince Robin tugged at her other hand and hurried from shop to shop. Galen could not help smiling at the sight. The Archen marines, as always, kept sharp eyes protectively on the princess. As they passed through the fair, Galen noticed that the Seven Islanders kept a respectful distance from the group, but they also smiled fondly at their young future sovereign.
Presently, they came upon the troubadours, who sang with clear voices an adventurous ballad of a legendary Muil mountain climber. Light filtered through the pale leaves of the thin birch trees and illuminated the rough-hewn wood benches below in dappled light. Wordlessly, Galen offered an unobtrusive hand, and with her familiar ease Lyra accepted its aid in taking a seat in the back. As the ballad ended, a hush fell on the the crowd, and a low flute began to play hauntingly. A young woman among the troubadours began to sing. Her crystalline voice told the tale of a young maiden who wandered the rocky shores looking for a sign of her mariner beloved and wondered whether he would ever return to her. The lament's beauty and sorrow struck at the Narnian's heart, and he found himself swallowing back a threatening tear.
As they moved on, following Prince Robin, he felt the princess's hand alight comfortingly on his arm. She briefly offered a gentle smile, then stepped ahead to slow the young prince's pace.
Unbeknownst to the two friends, a traveling artist noticed this brief moment. With a thoughtful smile, the young man brought out his notebook and charcoal and began to sketch.
Later that afternoon, Lyra made a point to happen upon Sir Pelinor. Each afternoon, he visited the troops around the castle's outer wall, and Lyra encountered him as he returned to the castle through the garden.
"Sir Pelinor!" She greeted warmly. "How fare your men?"
"The pride of the Seven Isles, my lady," he bowed slightly, his eyes warm with the regard he held for those he commanded.
"Prince Robin tells me you have made the acquaintance of a knight in my company," the Archen princess questioned nonchalantly.
"Indeed, your highness," he answered knowingly. "Sir Galen seems a worthy addition to your entourage."
"My thanks," she inclined her head. "How progresses his jousting?"
Sir Pelinor raised an eyebrow knowingly. "Aha, so my beloved future sovereign has been spying!"
Lyra laughed lightly. "My lord well knows the prince's inquisitiveness."
"Indeed," the older knight answered wryly as he joined the princess as she walked the garden paths.
"Your friend does you credit, my lady," he answered her original question.
"That is gratifying indeed," she answered. After a pause, she continued. "What would you estimate his chances in the tournament, if he were to enter?"
"He is inexperienced, your highness, but takes to it well. He has a fair chance," Sir Pelinor answered. A twinkle entered the old knight's eyes. "Perhaps he works so hard at it for a better reason than I gave him credit."
"Perhaps," the princess smiled slyly. "Would you be willing to test your hypothesis?"
"I am at your disposal, your highness," Sir Pelinor smiled in return.
That evening, Sir Pelinor suggested that Galen join the Seven Islander knights for practice the next day. Galen did not tarry in accepting the invitation, and the next morning found the Narnian knight in the grassy courtyard that served as practice field in the southwesterly corner of the stately castle. The morning sky reflected a pale blue above the snowy mountaintops in the distance as he descended the stone stairs from the railed terrace above the courtyard, a contented smile on his face.
"Sir Galen, welcome!" The senior-most of King Richard's knights greeted.
"Thank you, Sir Pelinor! It is a pleasure," the Narnian grasped the knight's offered hand firmly.
"We are about to begin our drills, and after that we hope you will join us in a sparring match or two," the dark-haired man's eyes twinkled.
"Gladly," the younger knight answered.
For the next twenty minutes or so, Sir Pelinor lead the knights—about a hundred in total— in a series of practice drills. Afterwards, one of the other senior knights took the youngest of them to the other side of the courtyard, where they continued to train. The remaining knights were about twenty in number, ranging from the most senior to several closer to Ayden's age. They took a short break, and Galen struck up a conversation with several of his newfound friends as they obtained a few gulps of water from a nearby pail. Suddenly, one of them—a knight about twenty-one years old whose light brown hair accentuated his striking pale green eyes—nudged Galen sharply.
"Have a care, friend, bright eyes are watching us," he nodded towards the terrace, and, straightening, Galen followed his gaze. Princess Lyra stood regally on the terrace, clad in a brilliant blue gown with flowing sheer sleeves and a fur-trimmed mantle. She surveyed the practice field with a clear, critical eye. The sudden hush that fell over the courtyard told that others had noticed her presence as well.
"Aslan, have mercy," the other knight beside Galen murmured, transfixed. "Now there is a lady worth fighting for."
"Fair day, your highness, and a hearty welcome," Sir Pelinor bowed, drawing near to the terrace. "You honor us with your presence."
"My thanks, Sir Pelinor, it is well to be again among the valiant men of this fair kingdom," Lyra inclined her head in response.
"What may humble knights do in your service, your highness?" Sir Pelinor inquired.
"I seek a champion who would take up my standard in the King's tournament tomorrow."
A murmur rippled through the knights and many took an eager step forward.
"The princess never designates a champion," a nearby knight whispered.
"My sword is ever yours to command, my lady," Galen outpaced his fellows to volunteer first.
"Indeed?" Lyra answered with a challenging air, an eyebrow arched and her blue eyes reflecting vividly against her dress. "My countryman seems eager to prove his mettle," she addressed the other knights. "Perhaps, my friends, you would be so kind as to give him the opportunity," she challenged with a slight, sly smile.
The young knight's eyes widened as he felt the eager eyes of all the Seven Islanders around him burning into his back. At the sound of many swords ringing out of their sheaths, he winced, momentarily meeting Lyra's eye with a good natured look of betrayal, before turning to his would be friends and presenting his own blade against their threatening smiles.
Over the next hour and a half, Galen had to fight harder than he ever had before. Yet, something in the young Narnian's blood stirred at the challenge, and he managed to best each and every knight left on the training grounds. His centaur swordmaster's relentless training served him well. The last match—against Sir Pelinor himself—lasted longest of all, but finally King Richard's chief commander yielded as well.
"Do any others offer challenge?" Pelinor asked, looking about the grounds. Silence answered him—a very long silence for the panting, exhausted Narnian— and at last he turned to face Lyra, who still stood on the terrace. "Hearing none, your highness, I declare Sir Galen the victor of this field."
"Huzzah!" A shout rang out, and Galen's opponents rallied around him, clapping him on the back and offering the congratulations of honorable sportsmen.
"Very well, Sir Pelinor," the Archen princess acknowledged with a gracious nod. "Let him come forward."
She stepped gracefully down the steps and stood on the last stair, her azure skirts pooling behind her. Galen approached and knelt before her, his limbs trembling with exertion and adrenaline and his armor streaked with sweat and mud.
"Sir knight," she questioned, "is it your wish to serve as my champion?"
"It is, your highness," the Narnian answered gravely and met her piercing gaze.
"Then, rise, good sir. The honor is yours," Lyra extended her hand, a smile in her eyes. Galen struggled to his feet, gently accepted the hand she offered, and kissed it lightly as he bowed. Applause filled the air, and many of the Seven Islanders smiled broadly. The Archen princess inclined her head, curtsying slightly, before turning on her heel and ascending the stairs.
As soon as she disappeared from view, Galen collapsed on the last stair and sat there too exhausted to move. A squire brought him the water pail, and he drank gratefully. As the training ground slowly emptied, Sir Pelinor approached and grasped the young knight's hand.
"You fought well today, my friend," he complimented. Galen inclined his head in thanks.
"Be mindful of the great honor you have received," the Seven Islander warned, his voice solemn. "That lady does not give her favor lightly; indeed, she gives it only to those she loves."
The young knight's heart skipped a beat, and his widened eyes briefly met the older knight's strong gaze before Sir Pelinor nodded his farewell and continued to ascend the stair, leaving the Narnian to ponder his words.
The morning of the tournament dawned in dappled light as pale grey clouds shrouded the mountain peaks in mist. Galen glanced up at the mountain from the open flap of the tent assigned to him for the tournament. A hum of anticipation filled the air as people began to fill the stands. He found his stomach tied in knots, not all of them owed to the anticipation of the day's contest. As a squire helped him prepare for the day, the young knight's mind wandered again to Sir Pelinor's words. He gazed at the shield he would bear that day—freshly painted with the princess's royal standard—and found he was as proud to bear her standard as he would have been to carry the Narnian lion.
As he stood deep in thought, Lyra entered the tent noiselessly and motioned the squire to leave them. Her golden hair fell around her shoulders, which were clothed in the same brilliant blue of the day before. She stepped quietly to the arming table and took his sword carefully in her hands.
"Your sword, my champion," she spoke softly.
"Lyra!" Surprised, Galen turned to face her. "I—thank you," he stammered, accepting his sword from her hands and placing it in its scabbard. As he did so, he avoided meeting her eye.
"Are you ready for the contest, my friend?" She asked gently.
"I am honored to bear your standard, my lady," Galen averted his eyes respectfully as he bowed slightly. "I will do my utmost to bear it well."
"Then, will you accept a token of my favor?" She spoke almost tentatively.
At last he met her steady gaze. "I will," the young knight answered wholeheartedly.
With a gentle smile, Lyra fastened the bright blue ribbon to her friend's armor. Silence filled the tent for a moment. The princess looked down briefly.
"Why did you seek to be my champion, Galen?" She raised her eyes curiously, scrutinizing his face.
"For the same reason you gave me the opportunity to be your champion, Lyra," he answered, meeting her gaze unswervingly.
"I believe you," she finally responded with a smile that kindled a sparkle in her eyes. Leaning forward, the lady kissed her knight's cheek. Then, stepping back, she curtsied deeply.
"May Aslan protect and strengthen you."
Galen bowed in return, his smile unrestrained as she turned to leave. At the tent's threshold she paused and looked back with a mischievous glint in her eye.
"I've invited the children from the village as my guests. They look forward to cheering for you."
Authoress's note: I hope you enjoyed! Up next, the Tournament!