No Dark Place by Joan Wolf Page B

do.
    In reality, the ladies’ tent was busy all night long, as women went in and out, keeping the assignations they had made during suppertime. Lying awake, her sleep disturbed by all the coming and going, Cristen wondered bitterly if any of Guy’s vassals could boast of a faithful wife or daughter.
    What terrible marriages they must have , she thought sadly. She herself had been fortunate in being the product of one of the few happy unions that she knew of. In fact, it often seemed to her that women of the lower classes, whose marriages were made for compatibility and not for land, had a better life than the women of the aristocracy, who all too often were married to much older men with whom they had little or nothing in common.
    She thought of Sir Richard, and shuddered.
    Thank God she had a father who cared about her happiness. She was well aware that most girls were not in such a fortunate situation.
    If I were married to Sir Richard, maybe I would cheat, too , she thought grimly.
    Unbidden, her thoughts turned to Hugh. What was going to happen on the morrow?

8
    W hen Philip and Father Anselm finally reached Somerford Castle on a warm September evening, they found it virtually deserted.
    “They are all gone to the tournament at Chippenham,” the men at arms who were manning the outer gate told them.
    Philip knew about the tournament, but he hadn’t realized that it was going to interfere with his mission.
    “Here’s a coil,” he said to the priest, who was riding beside him on the horse Philip had rented for him in Winchester. “I hadn’t counted on this.”
    “Has the boy known as Hugh Corbaille gone to Chippenham with Sir Nigel?” Father Anselm said to the men at the gate.
    “Aye,” one replied. “All the knights went. And Lady Cristen and her ladies as well. It’s a great tournament, you know. All of Lord Guy’s vassals participate.”
    “Hugh will bring home prizes, too,” the other man at arms said approvingly. “He’s that good.”
    The pretender had evidently wormed his way into the good graces of the entire castle, Philip thought sourly.
    Father Anselm looked at Philip. “Then we must go to Chippenham as well.”
    Philip frowned. “Is that wise, Father? Would it not be better for us to await their return here at Somerford?”
    “No,” the priest said positively. “The Lady Isabel must not be kept in doubt for any longer than is necessary.”
    Philip couldn’t disagree with that. The sooner she discovered that this man was not her son, the sooner she would regain her peace of mind.
    “All right,” he said. “But it is too late to start for Chippenham now.”
    “You can spend the night at Somerford,” one of the gatekeepers said promptly. “Lady Cristen would never turn away a priest.”
    “Very well,” Philip said. “Thank you, that is what we will do. And in the morning we will leave for the tournament.”
     
    The grounds in front of Chippenham were ablaze with color when Philip and Father Anselm rode out of the surrounding woods the following afternoon. Men and boys and horses were scattered everywhere on the dry, packed earth of the tournament field. Striped pavilions glowed in the sun, and the scarlet flags of the Earl of Wiltshire vied in brilliance withthe colors of the flags of all of Wiltshire’s vassals.
    On the section of the field nearest to the woods, a quintain had been set up and, one after another, boys were tilting at it recklessly. Hoots or cheers greeted the results, depending on how successful each contender was.
    A large number of boys appeared to be hitting the ground as they misjudged their hits and the quintain swung back and swatted them out of the saddle.
    The part of the field nearest to the castle walls had been roped off and set up as an obstacle course, which a single horse and rider were attempting to negotiate. Wooden stands had been erected along one side of the course, and this was where the ladies were sitting. The brilliant colors of their