metal throat guard and chin protector was heavy, but not uncomfortable . The squires adjusted the coif, and secured it to the hauberk.
Next came his helmet, a simple curved cap with a nasal bar . When that was in place, the squires, acting as one, slipped on the maille gloves. Then , almost reverently, James and Arthur lifted Miles Delong’s gipon, his armorial surcoat, and carried it to him . They slipped it on him and adjusted it smoothly. When the gipon was on and adjusted, the squires attached the waistchains for his weapons .
Miles knew exactly what he looked like. Although all that was visible of his skin was cheek and mouth, no one could possibly mistake him for another . The crest of Radstock was proudly displayed on both the front and back of his gipon: a scarlet shield with the Welsh dragon in one corner, the lion of Normandy opposite, and the chevrons of Radstock beneath. Miles Delong, in full battle armor, was a sight to behold, and one that few ever forgot .
“Weapons?” asked James, while he and his brother encased Miles’s mailled hands within his tournament gauntlets. Then James placed the sword and its scabbard onto the waiting chain.
Miles flexed his gauntlet - covered fingers while eyeing the weapons his squires had laid out. “The axe , ” he whispered.
“My lord, Morgan is a full Norman. He will use the mace ... “
“I am counting on that. The axe!” Miles ordered sternly. Without argument, James picked up the axe and attached it to yet another of the chains. “We have picked four lances,” he said as he and Arthur brought the mighty wooden poles to Miles. Each lance was smoothly finished, with a tapering, but blunt tip. On each hung the pennant of Radstock.
“Good. It is time to go.” But his words were almost drowned out by a loud cheering that washed through the tent . “Yes , ” he added, knowing that Richard had arrived .
<><><>
Gwendolyn stepped from her room and took a deep breath of air . Trailing five feet behind her was Roweena. Gwendolyn was dressed in a style befitting King Richard’s presence; however, her Norman dress still held signs of her proud Saxon heritage. The bodice was close to her skin, and the V of the neckline plunged to the valley of her breasts . The sleeves of the dress were tight until they reached her elbows where they began to grow wider. By the time the upper part of the sleeve reached her wrist, the lower part was a hairsbreadth above the floor. Around her waist was a girdle of silver . This was her Saxon heritage, and she displayed it proudly. Attached to the girdle was the Saracen dagger . The skirt billowed out from her hips in gentle folds, emphasizing both her elegant height, and her womanly figure. Upon her head rested yet another golden coif-de - maille, set with amethysts, rubies, and sapphires .
No matter what her outer trappings were, within Gwendolyn turmoil was rampant . Yet she knew that none of her thoughts must show on her face.
By the time she and Roweena reached the courtyard, her grandfather had appeared . At his side, standing almost a half head taller, was Richard.
Gwendolyn dropped to her knee gracefully before the king and rose at his touch upon her shoulder . When she was again standing, she gazed into his golden - flecked eyes, but remained silent .
“You are a worthy prize, Lady Gwendolyn. Would that I had found you first,” he whispered.
“You are too kind, Sire,” Gwendolyn responded quickly.
“And an example of chivalry to all . “
Richard’s smile was hesitant yet gentle, and she saw a vague flicker within his eyes. “You remind me of my mother,” he said absently. “Not in your looks, but in your carriage . She is a brave woman, too, a strong woman. There are so few of them…." Richard suddenly shook his head. “But, it is time Mamsell,” he stated, offering his arm gallantly .
With Gwendolyn on one side of the king, and
Next came his helmet, a simple curved cap with a nasal bar . When that was in place, the squires, acting as one, slipped on the maille gloves. Then , almost reverently, James and Arthur lifted Miles Delong’s gipon, his armorial surcoat, and carried it to him . They slipped it on him and adjusted it smoothly. When the gipon was on and adjusted, the squires attached the waistchains for his weapons .
Miles knew exactly what he looked like. Although all that was visible of his skin was cheek and mouth, no one could possibly mistake him for another . The crest of Radstock was proudly displayed on both the front and back of his gipon: a scarlet shield with the Welsh dragon in one corner, the lion of Normandy opposite, and the chevrons of Radstock beneath. Miles Delong, in full battle armor, was a sight to behold, and one that few ever forgot .
“Weapons?” asked James, while he and his brother encased Miles’s mailled hands within his tournament gauntlets. Then James placed the sword and its scabbard onto the waiting chain.
Miles flexed his gauntlet - covered fingers while eyeing the weapons his squires had laid out. “The axe , ” he whispered.
“My lord, Morgan is a full Norman. He will use the mace ... “
“I am counting on that. The axe!” Miles ordered sternly. Without argument, James picked up the axe and attached it to yet another of the chains. “We have picked four lances,” he said as he and Arthur brought the mighty wooden poles to Miles. Each lance was smoothly finished, with a tapering, but blunt tip. On each hung the pennant of Radstock.
“Good. It is time to go.” But his words were almost drowned out by a loud cheering that washed through the tent . “Yes , ” he added, knowing that Richard had arrived .
<><><>
Gwendolyn stepped from her room and took a deep breath of air . Trailing five feet behind her was Roweena. Gwendolyn was dressed in a style befitting King Richard’s presence; however, her Norman dress still held signs of her proud Saxon heritage. The bodice was close to her skin, and the V of the neckline plunged to the valley of her breasts . The sleeves of the dress were tight until they reached her elbows where they began to grow wider. By the time the upper part of the sleeve reached her wrist, the lower part was a hairsbreadth above the floor. Around her waist was a girdle of silver . This was her Saxon heritage, and she displayed it proudly. Attached to the girdle was the Saracen dagger . The skirt billowed out from her hips in gentle folds, emphasizing both her elegant height, and her womanly figure. Upon her head rested yet another golden coif-de - maille, set with amethysts, rubies, and sapphires .
No matter what her outer trappings were, within Gwendolyn turmoil was rampant . Yet she knew that none of her thoughts must show on her face.
By the time she and Roweena reached the courtyard, her grandfather had appeared . At his side, standing almost a half head taller, was Richard.
Gwendolyn dropped to her knee gracefully before the king and rose at his touch upon her shoulder . When she was again standing, she gazed into his golden - flecked eyes, but remained silent .
“You are a worthy prize, Lady Gwendolyn. Would that I had found you first,” he whispered.
“You are too kind, Sire,” Gwendolyn responded quickly.
“And an example of chivalry to all . “
Richard’s smile was hesitant yet gentle, and she saw a vague flicker within his eyes. “You remind me of my mother,” he said absently. “Not in your looks, but in your carriage . She is a brave woman, too, a strong woman. There are so few of them…." Richard suddenly shook his head. “But, it is time Mamsell,” he stated, offering his arm gallantly .
With Gwendolyn on one side of the king, and
Similar Books
