The parade continued with long lines of knights dressed elaborately.
One knight near the rear of the parade rode a chestnut steed and didn’t seem to have any polished parade armor. It looked like he wore his regular chainmail coat. He had no fancy feathers atop his helmet, no rump cover for his horse, no luster on his armor.
Elora heard laughter from some nobles around her. She glanced at Bethany to see her pointing at the knight and sniggering. Lady Jennifer and Lady Lynda joined in the mockery, whispering to each other behind their raised hands.
Elora frowned and returned her stare to the field and the simple knight. She felt sorry for him. Obviously, he had little coin, was not from a wealthy family, and had come to the tournament without a lord to sponsor him.
Elora looked over the field of knights again, searching for the one who had saved her. In their armor with their helmets on, it was impossible to discern which one he might be. Still, she could imagine. One knight sat tall in his saddle, holding the reins of his horse with a firm grip.
It could be him, she thought.
A breeze lifted a lock of her hair and placed it on her cheek. She brushed at it as her gaze was drawn to the knight that she had seen ride onto the field with no fanfare—the plain knight with no grand armor or heraldry. There was something curious about him, something that called to her.
His brown horse was calm and still beneath him as if it had been to tournaments before. Or perhaps it was his mastery of the animal. Elora wasn’t sure which. She tilted her head to regard him. Had he polished his armor? Perhaps. It was chainmail, so it was difficult to tell at this distance. In her mind, the knight who had saved her would have been too busy saving damsels in the marketplace to buff out his armor.
Loud blaring trumpets sounded, jarring her from her reverie. She blinked herself back to the moment and realized the first joust was about to start. As the knights marched from the field, the throngs of spectators sat in the grass or found a spot to stand and watch.
Behind Elora, Lady Bethany giggled and waved as Edward strode by on his warhorse. Elora cringed.
When the arena was clear, the Grand Marshall announced, “Sir Mace!”
Mace charged onto the field to a raucous cheer. He had promptly changed from his parade armor to his chainmail. He waved to the crowd as he spurred his horse around the field.
Someone touched Elora’s shoulder, and she jumped. She spun to see Edward beside her, still in his parade armor, his helmet under his arm. He grinned at her. She nodded her head in greeting and quickly turned back to the field.
Mace brought his horse to a halt amidst a swirl of dust on the far end of the field.
“Sir Julian!” The Grand Marshall announced.
Sir Julian rode his brown horse onto the field. A few lone claps issued from the surrounding audience.
Elora’s back straightened, and her gaze focused intently on him when she recognized Sir Julian as the plain knight she had seen during the parade. His horse galloped around the field. When he passed the stands, Elora noticed he wore no heraldry.
“Pardons,” a voice whispered.
Recognizing Sarah’s voice, Elora reluctantly swiveled toward her to see her pushing her way through the nobles in the stand.
Sarah glanced at Edward and then leaned in close to her to whisper, “I found him.”
Elora’s mouth dropped, and she leaned closer to Sarah to hear her words.
“There.” Sarah pointed to the plain knight taking his lap around the field. “Sir Julian.”
Chapter Seven
Elora’s heart missed a beat, and her eyes widened. She blinked and glanced at Sarah but noticed Edward’s scowling visage. She quickly moved to his side, casually stepping behind him to hide from Sir Julian.
“Lady Elora must still be weary from all the riding to get here.” Sarah offered an explanation. She looked pointedly at Elora. “Isn’t that right?”
Elora nodded, her gaze shifting again to Sir Julian, her rescuer.
The knights were handed their long lances and spurred their horses down the list. Julian’s steed charged forward, getting a very slim early start. He lowered his lance and couched it in the crook of his arm, the tip pointed at Mace.
Elora held her breath, placing her fingertips to her lips. Mace was a seasoned jouster. She had seen him joust and beat his opponent before. She didn’t want Sir Julian to be hurt, nor did she want him to lose.
The lances of both knights hit hard, splintering on impact, debris flying about the field. Mace was knocked backwards but managed to stay in the saddle. A collective gasp echoed throughout the stands and spectators. Julian charged by, unaffected by Mace’s blow, which had slid from his shield.
Out of the corner of her eye, Elora saw Edward shook his head in disapproval.
