Queen Of Knights by David Wind Page A

Hughes on the other, the entourage walked slowly from the inner ward toward the tournament site.  With each step, Gwendolyn’s heart beat faster, and she was hard pressed to keep her face free of emotion.
    Within the sanctity of the seats set aside for Richard, Gwendolyn looked outward at the vast array of tents across from the joust arena.  Her eyes skimmed across their tops until they came to rest upon the standard of Radstock, above which sat Valkyrie .  Her heart speeded again for a moment when she saw her eagle, but she forced her eyes to move again when she heard Richard speak.
    “Tell me, Marshall, who shall you wager on?” the king asked.
    William Marshall, the burly knight and chief advisor to Richard, and before him, his father Henry, laughed loudly and shook his head.  “To wager against one, is to be for the other.  We cannot afford to lose either . ” When the older knight finished, he fixed Richard with a powerful stare .  “And you, my lord?” he asked.
    “I must agree in conscience, if not in fact . ”
    “Then stop this foolishness,” demanded the knight.  “An injury to either man will hurt all of England.”
    “I cannot and will not stop it!” Richard replied in a steely voice.
    “Very well,” Marshall whispered and turned to stare out .
    But not before Gwendolyn saw the look of suppressed fury on his face.  She had met William Marshall several times and had been impressed by his logical thinking and steadfast loyalty to England, rather than to Normandy.
    Before anything further could be said, a fanfare rang loudly.  Gwendolyn’s breath caught as she watched the mounted knights ride forward, resplendent with all their weapons .  The sun glinted off Mil e s’s dark maill e , and sp a rkled from th e pointed tip of his helmet.  Sh e let her breath es c ape in a low hiss a b a re se c ond before both knights stopped in front of the king .
    Suddenly, within Gw e ndolyn’s ra c ing mind, th e word s of the old priestes s returned, and with them, her body relaxed .  Miles will be triumphant, she told h e rself .  He mu s t b e !
    She ga z ed into Morgan’s face a nd a shudder passed along h e r length .  His dark eyes h e ld hers, and s h e f e lt a s though h e w e re ravishing her befor e the w o rld.
    “A re you re a dy, my knight s ?” Ri c h a rd call e d in a d e ep voice.
    “I am,” replied Miles.
    “I am,” echoed Morgan.  But b e fore Richard c ould continue, Morgan turned his charger and moved it a step closer to Gwendolyn.  “As your rightfully b e troth e d, I a s k a favor to carry into tournament .  “
    Gwendolyn stared at Morgan for a long moment .  She turned to look first at Richard, whos e eyes were etched with amusement, and th e n she looked at her grandfath e r .  When s he spoke, her voi ce was flat and unemotion a l.  “B e caus e of the nature of this tourn e y, Morgan of Guildswood, I cannot give one man a favor without giving th e same to th e other . ”
    In the silen c e that followed her words, Morgan’s glare of hatred darken e d, and within it, Gwendolyn glimpsed the empty, horrid future awaiting her if Morgan was victorious today.
    Sudd e nly Morgan reined his charger back, and turned to face the king.  “At your command!” he shouted, lifting a gauntl e t - covered hand .
    Richard stood, his arms extended, one hand toward Miles, the other toward Morgan.  “I charge you both with the following rule.  This i s a tourney, not a battl e.  Th e winner and lo s er shall both walk from this fi e ld to do battle, in earnest, with th e en e mies of our country .  Do you under s tand?”
    “Ye s , my lord,” Mil e s c a lled softly, before bowing hi s head to Richard .
    “And you, Morgan of Guildswood?” Ri c hard asked when the knight remained silent .
    “Yes, my lord , ” Morgan said, but everyone, including Richard, heard the reluctance within his voice.
    “Then let the tournament begin , ” Richard declared.  Gwendolyn