“But—”

“Off with you both,” the guard said, and made a lazy swipe at them with his spiked club.

Fuming, Dain went back down the ramp, pushing his way past others who were rushing in the opposite direction.

On the other side of the enclosure fence, hoofbeats thundered in the lists, followed by a tremendous crash and then a deafening cheer. Dain craned his neck and jumped in an effort to see, but the fence was too high and there were too many people crammed too close together. Behind him, Thum swore with impatience.  “We can’t see any of it like this,” Dain said.

“Try going closer to the fence.”

As he spoke, Thum shoved Dain from behind. The men in front of Dain were tall and stalwart. They didn’t budge, and Dain elbowed Thum to get him to stop shoving. “Give way!” he said. “I can’t go forward, Thum. There’s no room ahead.” The air smelled of sweat and excitement. The scent of roasting meat wafted over the breeze, but it had no power to entice Dain away. He heard another crash. The crowd roared, many of them jumping to their feet, and through the din of the cheering, Dain could hear the steady clang of swordplay.  He groaned in frustration and retreated, shoving past Thum in the process.  “Where are you going?” Thum demanded, turning with him. “We’ll get no closer than this. If those men in front step aside—” Dain gripped him by the shoulder of his tunic and hustled him back to the wooden stands. It was a rickety contraption, clearly built in haste for the tourney.  The rough-sawn wood smelled fresh cut, and when the crowd jumped to their feet, the entire structure swayed again. Ducking underneath it, Dain looked up at the crosspieces that formed a ladder-work beneath the benches.  “Come out from under there!” Thum yelled at him. “The guard said this thing is bound to fall. Do you want it to come crashing down atop your head?” “Nay,” Dain replied absently, still looking at the structure in hopes that he could climb it to the top. “Do you think we could climb up there? Nay, it’s no good,” he answered his own question. “Not enough bracing.” “No, indeed there is not,” Thum said. He retreated another step and gestured to Dain. “Come out of there. You’re tempting fate.”

It was cool and shady under the stands. Dain glanced around. All kinds of trash and litter had been thrown under here. A pig and several dogs were rooting about for scraps of food. Dain ducked beneath a brace board and scattered the dogs. A ragged child burst from their midst and ran away, cursing.  Thum jumped back. “Morde a day! What was that?”

“Someone starving,” Dain replied. “Come.”

“Why? It’s not safe under there.”

“Shortcut,” Dain said, and headed on without Thum.

In seconds, however, his friend was by his side. Thum kept glancing apprehensively at the thumping feet overhead. He spent no time in dawdling and muttered beneath his breath.

At the other end of the stands, they emerged back into the sunlight and stood blinking. Here, they found themselves in one of the ready pens. It had become an impromptu infirmary. A double handful of men were either lying on their shields or sitting on the ground. A pair of physicians in long robes and their assistants were binding wounds and mixing potions, amid much moaning and swearing.

“Thod’s mercy!” Thum exclaimed.

Dain pushed him onward. This time they had to skirt a long section of stonework, hearing all the while the cheering going on constantly over the noise of hard-fought battle. The crowd rose to its feet with a moan, then sank down again.

Dain and Thum exchanged impatient looks and came to another ready pen. This one was more interesting, for knights were busy fitting on their armor and checking their weapons. Grooms and squires scurried in all directions. Warhorses, restless and excited, champed their bits and pawed the ground.  “Look!” Thum said, pinching Dain’s arm to get his attention. He pointed at an immense knight in a hauberk of black mail worn beneath a fine white-and-black-striped surcoat. The knight bowed his head for one of his servants to fit a steel cap to his head atop his mail coif. Another servant stood by, holding a visored helmet much ornamented in black steel and gold. The squire waited patiently with a lance painted in black and white spirals down its entire length. A vivid banner hung from the tip, flapping lazily in the hot breeze.

Thum’s elbow jabbed Dain in the ribs. “That’s Roberd of Minceau Hold. I know the colors. My older brothers have talked of seeing him fight. I wonder if they were ever this close to him. Look at his sword!”

Dain stared, too transfixed to speak. He watched a second squire hand a long broadsword to the knight. The blade flashed in the sunlight as Lord Roberd swung it aloft and brought it down. He grunted an order to his servants, and sheathed the weapon.

Dain eased out his breath, and Thum’s elbow jabbed him again. “Look at his horse. What a brute it is.”

Another knight rode by just then, calling out greeting to Lord Roberd. The newcomer flipped up the visor to his helmet, revealing a nose that had been broken in the past and a pair of twinkling brown eyes.  “Good job unseating the Thirst knight in the early rounds, Roberd!” the mounted knight called out.

Lord Roberd lifted his hand with an easy laugh while Dain winced and Thum moaned.

“Sir Terent is defeated already,” Thum said. “And we missed it. Damne, what a shame.”

Dain frowned, feeling sorry for Sir Terent, who’d come here with such high hopes, only to be eliminated early. “We should have been here to cheer for him.” “Aye,” Thum said gloomily.

“I’m sorry, Thum. I don’t know why I couldn’t wake.”

Thum gave him a lopsided smile and shrugged a little. “It’s past. Can’t be helped now. We’d better find Sir Terent and Sir Polquin in the crowd and—” “What, and be smothered the rest of the day by their protection?” Dain said in protest. “Not me!”

The mounted knight was still talking to Lord Roberd. “When do you go in again?

Without Legre to meet, it hardly seems worthwhile.”

Both knights solemnly drew the sign of the Circle. Lord Roberd sighed. “Legre of Clune was a true opponent. Pity we shall never fight him again.” “You’ll be champion today, Roberd. You have no other true competition.”

“Perhaps,” Lord Roberd said with a shrug. “I’m to face the last man today, then

whoever wins that—”

“You will. You know it.”

“Aye, but ‘tis bad luck to say so.”

The mounted knight laughed merrily. “Thod willing, it will be me you meet today.”

Lord Roberd grinned back at him. “I’ll spike your gullet, Gilon.” “Or my lance will break your ribs,” Sir Gilon replied. “I’ve done it once. I can do it again.”

“Perhaps,” Lord Roberd agreed, although he did not look worried. “Whoever takes the championship is slotted to face the prince.”

Sir Gilon tightened his reins enough to make his horse toss its head. He shouted with laughter. “Then I withdraw and name you winner! Take that task, my friend, for I don’t want to meet his highness on the field.”

Lord Roberd shrugged his massive shoulders. “Has to be done. I’ll be honored to do it, of course.”

“Of course,” agreed his friend with so much sarcasm Dain had to hide a grin. He and Thum edged closer to listen. “But he ought to be invested before he enters the tourney.”

“Aye,” Lord Roberd agreed quietly, with a glance around. “That’s the proper way, but I hear the lad insisted against all reason and his majesty has consented.  Against that, I will not argue.”

“No, indeed. It’s said the prince has a way of thinking the rules do not apply to him, and I see that it is true. You’ll let him win, of course.” “I will not,” Lord Roberd said with spirit. “Damne, I’m no pudding-heart to give way to an untried boy, whatever his rank.”

Dain and Thum grinned at each other, and Dain whispered, “I must see this contest, if only to watch Gavril eat a mouthful of dust.” “Aye,” Thum agreed fervently.

“Go you back to Minceau on the morrow?” Sir Gilon asked. “Or will you be joining the king’s hunt?”

Lord Roberd looked stunned. “What? Does his majesty depart that soon? What of the—” “Everything’s to finish today and tonight. As soon as his highness is invested in the morning, the king rides out.” Sir Gilon shrugged and plucked at his horse’s mane. “So I heard from the chamberlain—” “Damne, I’ll be sore and much galled by morning.”

Sir Gilon laughed. “So will we all! I hope you go, for I’m asked to accompany his majesty to the south for that journey. It would be good to have your company.”

“Aye,” Lord Roberd said dourly. “I’ve been asked.”

“His majesty hopes to catch the last of the marlet herds before they migrate.”

“Poor coursing, that,” Lord Roberd said.

“Aye, but it’s the last chance before the seasons turn. You know how the king is.”

Their conversation went on, but Dain felt as though a knife had been plunged through his chest. He turned to Thum and gripped his arm hard.