Queen Of Knights by David Wind Page B

breathed deep l y at the words and watched the knights ride to their squires at the opposite ends of the jousting field .  While the squires removed the weapons that would not yet be needed, she tried to calm her emotions.
    Jousting was a relatively new part in the tourneys , and a part that Gwendolyn despised .  It caused too much injury, and many times, even with the blun t ed tips of the lances, death was found .
    She forced herself to think of other things as she waited for the first joust to begin.  The morning sun was growing hotter overhead, and still no cloud had appeared in the skies above the moors of Devonshire.
    The fanfare of trumpets cal l ed out, and with her lower lip caught between her teeth, she watched Miles and Morgan charge each other.  The sound of eight hoof-beats echoed like thunder, and was the only sound to be heard.  They met ferociously, and the loud splintering of wood upon shields crackled in the air.  Both knights remained in their saddles, but their lances were splintered and broken.  They turned their chargers about and rode to their squires .
    M i les threw his shattered lance down and took the fresh one from James, as Arthur turned the heavy-boned charger around.  “He’s like a rock .  It didn’t even jar him , ” Miles said, more to himself than the squires.  His arm still vibrated from Morgan’s lance shattering on his curved tournament shield , and he willed away the trembling as he readied himself for the next charge .
    Fitting the lance under his arm and resting it against his side, Miles spurred his charger to the gate .  When the fanfare signaled loudly, Miles thought of nothing except the target charging toward him .  The charger, for all its great weight, moved swiftly and surely along the path .  Three seconds later they met amidst a jarring collision of wood and leather, and the snapping of lances sounded loudly.
    Miles whirled his mount and started toward his s quires .
    When he passed Morgan, the knight spat on the ground before him.  “You will die today , ” Morgan called in a voice loud enough for Miles alone to hear .
    Miles ignored both his words and gestures as he rode to receive his new lance.  Again, when the trumpets sounded, Miles charged forward, his eyes fixed only on Morgan’s shield.
    They met in the center of the outer ward, as they had twice before, and for the third time, the sounds of their meeting echoed.  Miles shook the sweat from his eyes and rode back to his squires .
    With his new lance in place, he waited for the next charge.
    But he was bothered by the last.  He’d barely deflected Morgan’s lance, which had grazed the inside edge of his own shield.  Only his quick deflection upwards had stopped Morgan’s lance from hitting his abdomen.  And, Miles knew it had been intentional .  Yet, because of that, Morgan had not splintered his lance and had lost points .
    “His lance!” Arthur warned when the trumpets sounded .
    Miles’s eyes left Morgan’s shield and he saw what had caused Arthur’s yell .  Morgan had changed lances, and this new one had a sharp tip .  It was not a metal head, but the wood was almost shaven to a point .  Taking a deep, preparatory breath, Miles spurred the charger on.
    He moved with the mount, sitting deep in the wooden saddle, his buttocks pressed tightly back, awaiting the impact of the lance.  Suddenly, he spurred the charger harder, knowing that if he were to live, he must do the unexpected.  The sharp tip of Morgan’s lance was coming nearer and would soon penetrate through the heavy leather of the shield .
    His horse moved faster, and when they were within five feet of each other and Miles saw the position of the lance, he bent forward , tilting his shield at the last second.  This deflected Morgan’s deadly intent, just as the blunted tip of his lance bit the exact center of Morgan’s shield.  A loud gasp rose above the sounds of combat.  Miles’s lance bent, but did not