Page 17 of King’s Knight

Jamie moved first with a downward strike, but Alex quickly blocked the blade with an upward thrust. The older knight had powerful arms and a decade more experience than Alex. Jamie’s skill had been honed in sparring with the Red Wolf nearly every day. But Alex, with his agile strength, moved gracefully, more like an animal than a man, allowing him to avoid the older knight’s blade with his quick twists and turns.

After that, the blows came in rapid succession, steel meeting steel, as the two opponents forced each other back and forth over the uneven ground.

Alex’s blade slid along the edge of Jamie’s sword, the shrieking metal setting Merewyn’s nerves on end. It was not a real battle but close enough for her to hear in her mind the sounds of many swords clashing. She could easily imagine Alex as he might be in battle: his powerful muscles flexing with every slash of his sword, his black hair flying about his shoulders and the look on his face one of dangerous intent.

Alex suddenly twisted around so fast he was a blur, his blade striking Jamie’s twice before it stilled. Given the startled look on Jamie’s face, Merewyn was certain he had not expected the move. The men watching shouted their approval. Neither had they. She glanced up at Alex’s father whose face bore a grin. Had he taught Alex the move?

Children cheered from the sidelines. Cecily jumped up and down, flanked by her two companions. Alex’s younger brother, Tibby, watched Alex closely, his admiration for his older brother shining in his eyes.

Jamie paused and Alex shot a glance to where Merewyn stood next to Lora. Taking advantage of the lapse, Jamie swung hard, forcing Alex to block the blade close to his body. It appeared Alex would prevail, but suddenly he stumbled and went down.

* * *

The tip of Jamie’s sword pressed into Alex’s chest. A bit more pressure and it would pierce his tunic and draw blood.

“Yield, Alex.”

He smiled up at the blond knight. “Aye, ’tis your win, Jamie.” The older knight offered Alex his hand and he took it.

“You are being very gracious about this loss, Alex.”

“Mayhap, but I expect a rematch and soon,” said Alex. They laughed about their various moves as they strode from the clearing. Once Jamie left him, his two friends rushed to his side, incredulous looks on their faces.

“What was that?” Rory questioned. “You never lose your footing, no matter the ground.”

“Yea,” said Guy, his forehead furrowed. “I have never seen you clumsy afore this.” The younger knight furrowed his brow at Alex’s amused grin. “Are you ill?”

Alex laughed. “Nay.” Speaking under his breath, he confided, “Jamie might have won without my help, but ’twas my intention to assure he did.”

His friends stared back at him, open-mouthed. “Why?” they asked as one.

He raised his brows. “Have you not observed Jamie is smitten with Lora but she pays him little attention? When I saw Lora closely watching, I thought to give Jamie a boost in her eyes.”

“Ah,” said Rory. “I begin to understand. ’Twas great-hearted of you. But your lord father will think you are slipping.”

“Nay, he will not,” said Alex. “After I’ve defeated the two of you,” he said with a grin, “I will meet him.”

“Ho! The arrogance of our leader!” cried Rory.

“Then let the next match be mine!” said Guy.

“You shall have it,” said Alex, a slow smile crossing his face. Guy was the youngest of Talisand’s knights. His most difficult tests lay ahead of him and Alex was glad to show him the way.

In the next two rounds, Alex defeated his friends. Guy had learned much in Normandy but his lesser experience showed in the end. Rory made a single error that Alex quickly seized upon.

When he finally challenged his father, Alex was winded, but determined. He approached the Lord of Talisand who stood observing the remaining matches. “ ’Tis you I would next lock swords with, Father.”

The Red Wolf turned to face him, proud, erect and secure in his ability. His reputation on the battlefield was legendary even before Alex was born. His chestnut hair was now streaked with gray and framed a lined face that bore witness to the decades he had served the Conqueror.

“Are you certain you do not need a brief rest to recover?” his father asked, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“Hardly. And do not go easy on me, Father. I would have a real test of my skill. We’ve not sparred since I left for Normandy.”

The Red Wolf returned him a predatory gaze. “Very well.”

The crowd’s conversation faded to a hushed silence as father and son faced off in the center of the clearing, circling each other slowly. Alex reminded himself of his father’s reputation. He might limp at times from the old riding accident, but as he circled Alex, ’twas not apparent.

Gray eyes met gray eyes as each took the other’s measure. Alex had been schooled by his father not to be hasty but to consider the other man’s moves before attacking. Hence, they continued to circle, eyes narrowed, each waiting for the other to strike. Alex was determined to be patient.