No Dark Place by Joan Wolf Page A

repressively. “You must know that, Hugh.”
    Hugh was looking across the packed courtyard, trying to locate Sir Richard, but the knight had disappeared. He turned back to Cristen. “Was he the man who tried to kiss you last year?” he demanded.
    “No,” Cristen said gloomily. “That was someone else.”
    “You had better stay by me,” he ordered. “It seems you are in some danger in this place.”
    “It’s because everyone drinks too much,” Cristen said. She eyed the flagon of wine in Hugh’s hand.
    “It’s my first,” he said austerely.
    He certainly looked sober, Cristen thought. He had taken off his mail like the rest of the men and was garbed in a dark green overtunic with an undertunic of dark blue. The air was warm from the heat of the fires, and he had opened the laces at his throat, revealing the cross and chain he always wore. His eyes were somber.
    “What do you want to eat?” he asked her now. “I’ll get it for you.”
    “Some of the fowl, I think,” she said. “And a little bread.”
    Hugh stepped away from her and lifted a hand to a circulating page. The boy, who had been simultaneously signaled by two older men, came to Hugh’s side immediately.
    “The lady wishes some fowl,” Hugh said.
    The boy offered Cristen his platter of meat. She chose what she wanted, smiled, and thanked him. He ducked his head and rushed off to answer other summonses.
    Nigel offered his daughter a cup of wine. She shook her head. “I’ll share Hugh’s.”
    A smile dented the corner of Hugh’s mouth. “Don’t you trust me?”
    “It is not that at all,” she said repressively. “It is that I cannot hold my meat and bread and a cup of wine at the same time.”
    “Hmmm,” he said.
    “What events will you enter tomorrow, Hugh?” Nigel asked.
    “What is on the program?” Hugh replied.
    “There is a horsemanship competition, and wrestling, archery, and tilting at the quintain. The last is more for the squires than for the knights, however.”
    Hugh offered Cristen a sip of his wine.
    “What is the horsemanship competition?”
    Cristen took a dainty swallow and returned his cup to him.
    “They set up an obstacle course with barrels, gates, a bridge, that sort of thing. Everything is hung with brightly colored flags, which makes it a bit scary for the horses. Last year Guy even had a few small jumps.”
    “It doesn’t sound too difficult,” Hugh said.
    “No, well, the difficult part is that you have to carry a sword in one hand and a shield in the other and tie your horse’s reins on his neck.”
    Hugh’s straight black brows rose. “Ah. That does make it more interesting.”
    “You and Rufus would probably do very well in that competition, Hugh,” Cristen said.
    She liked the horsemanship competition. It was fun to watch, and no one got hurt.
    “Aye,” Hugh said. “We might.”
    She gave him a hopeful look. “It’s much cleaner than the wrestling.”
    He looked amused. “Aye, I imagine that it must be.”
    “Shall I enter you for the horsemanship, then?” Nigel asked.
    “Why not?” Hugh said lightly, and Cristen breathed a sigh of relief.
    “Can a knight enter more than one competition?” Hugh asked.
    “Of course,” Nigel said. “They take place one after the other—except for the tilting at the quintain, which goes on all day.”
    “Do you participate yourself, sir?” Hugh asked courteously.
    “Aye,” Nigel said. “I like to compete in the archery.”
    Nigel was a very fine bowman.
    He gave Hugh a wry look. “Will you do the archery as well, Hugh?”
    Hugh was better than he was.
    The boy shook his head. “If you are going to compete, then I will cheer for you.”
    Nigel, who had won the archery for the last four years, was a little embarrassed at how grateful he was for that response.
    After supper was finished, all of the knights and ladies and squires and pages retreated to their tentsfor a good night’s rest. Or at least, that was what they were supposed to