The Fallen One by Kathryn Le Veque

“If the earl sees you, he will arrest us
all!”
    Mathias shook his head steadily. “He will
not arrest us,” he assured his father as he finished with the hauberk. “You
worry overly.”
    Justus could see that his words were
falling on deaf ears and his anxiety grew; he was already in a panic since
hearing about de Lara’s entry. Now, there was no stopping his fear.
    “Why?” he pleaded as Mathias began to walk
away to collect his tournament weaponry. “Why must you do this? I do not
understand!”
    Mathias picked up the first of three joust
poles that he and Sebastian had worked through the night to forge; this pole
was very well made with a rounded tip.   The two other poles had a tip that looked like a fist and one that had a
crow’s foot tip because it literally looked like a bird’s foot.  
    As Mathias pondered his answer, Sebastian
came over to the table with a collection of fabric in different shades of yellow.   As he began securing a large piece of fabric to
one of the poles, Justus began pointing furiously.
    “And there is another thing,” he said.
“Where did you get the banners?”
    Mathias glanced at Sebastian, who was
focused on his work. “We borrowed them.”
    Justus’ eyes narrowed. “You stole them!”
    Mathias shook his head patiently. “We
borrowed them from a few merchants,” he repeated.   “We shall either pay them for the goods or
return them, depending on the condition of the fabric when we are finished.”
    Justus threw up his hands. “You stole the
fabric during the night because the shops were not open for business,” he said.
“You are thieves!”
    Mathias took one of the strips of fabric
from his brother and began fastening it to the top of the pole. “No one ever
saw us,” he said casually. “We were ghosts.”
    “Phantoms!” Sebastian piped up.
    Mathias grinned at his brother. “They will
never realize it is missing.”
    As the brothers jested, Justus turned away
in frustration. They weren’t taking any of this seriously and it was a deadly
serious situation; with the unanticipated addition of the Earl of Carlisle in
the tournament, the stakes were much higher than they could possibly imagine.   He knew Mathias was aware; he couldn’t
understand why the man wasn’t treating the situation with more concern.   Baffled, and reaching the apex of what he
could emotionally handle, he collapsed onto the nearest stool.
    “We will all be arrested,” he muttered,
raking his fingers through his long, gray hair. “It is not fair that I should
live to see my sons perish.   I have done
all that I can to protect them but they will not listen.”
    Mathias heard the man’s soft utterings,
casting a long glance at Sebastian before turning to his father.   They knew their father was worried; the truth
was that they were worried, too, but it did not deter them.
    “Da,” he said softly, firmly. “Look at me;
I know you are concerned but there is truly nothing to be concerned over. If I
thought the risk was too great, I would not do it.”
    Instead of looking at Mathias as he had
been asked, Justus looked away. “You are taking a terrible and reckless
chance.”
    Mathias sighed faintly. “Let me tell you
why I feel this opportunity is neither terrible nor reckless,” he said. “I am
wearing armor that is not identifiable. It is in no way related to or
indicative of Mathias de Reyne.   The Patins
we paid handsomely for at Lanercost Abbey is flawless; I made sure of it when
the priest drew it up.   For all anyone
will know, I am Sir Chayson de Lovern. No one will ever see my face.   I will compete, I will win, and we will have
a tidy sum to do with as we please.”
    Justus looked at his son as if he was daft.
“What if there are people at the tournament who know de Lovern? They will know
you are not him.”
    Mathias shrugged. “I would wager to say
that he was not very well known or very well liked if no one came looking for
him after his death,” he replied.