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“It would have felt better to separate his ribs with my sword, but I am patient.”

“Surely the soldiers will give you another try, since they’re probably looking for us.”

“Let them look. They won’t find us.”

“Will Lady Elizabeth be all right with us gone?”

“She’d be the first to tell us that she can take care of herself. But I’ll return to her side tonight. For now, show me the way to the army.”

After a journey of several miles, they passed the inspection of several guards before entering the encampment spread out across a meadow in the heart of a woodland. Pavilions for the higher-ranking knights were scattered between many campfires. Though several soldiers worked over cauldrons preparing the midday meal, the rest were gathered in an open area of the meadow, where the grass had been stamped into dirt as a hundred soldiers trained.

Still mounted, John and Philip watched the training exercises for several minutes from the cover of the trees. Ogden and Parker rode up to join them in the woods.

Parker, short and broad, squinted up at John. “Good to see ye again, milord.”

John smiled briefly. “My thanks for your help when we were attacked by thieves. My lady and I will not forget it.”

Ogden grinned. “She’s a fine woman, milord. Had a dagger out ready to defend herself.”

John nodded and looked back at the training. “I would have thought that learning new skills would make Alderley’s men eager. Why is it not so?”

Ogden spit out the end of his long mustache. “The missive from Lady Elizabeth settled ‘em down a bit, but they don’t trust us—nor you. Just another suitor fightin’ over their lady, accordin’ to them. Maybe ye’re her last hope, and not the right man.”

John arched a brow at him.

“Just repeatin’ their words,” Ogden said, reddening.

John debated simply riding up to the soldiers and introducing himself, but how could he just demand their allegiance, when they were already doubtful of him?

And then an idea came to him. He glanced at Ogden. “Have you had an informal tournament to test their skills against each other?”

Ogden frowned. “Nay, milord, though it be a good idea.”

“I’ll be joining.”

“Won’t they hesitate to⁠—”

“But they won’t know who I am. Find me a helm and training armor and bring them to me here. Parker can distract them all by organizing the tournament. Group the men informally to fight each other, with a winner being declared before any blood loss. The winners continue to play each other, until there is only one man left standing.”

Philip smiled. “And you assume you’ll be one of the winners?”

“I don’t assume it will be easy,” John said, “not if they’ve learned Parker’s skill with the sword.”

Parker cleared his throat. “Go on with ye, milord.”

John waited in the forest while his three men-at-arms gathered together Alderley’s soldiers. The idea of a tournament was at first greeted without spirit, but gradually the men began to become enthused, especially when everyone was ordered to keep their helm on. The knights recognized each other of course, but not all of the simple soldiers. Ogden mixed everyone up, and John was able to slip into a group as it spread out near the trees.

His first opponent was a common soldier by the look of his garments, but he fought with an eager skill that was impressive. Where John wanted to circle, getting an impression of his foe, the soldier was too eager and tired himself trying to chase. Ogden was judging their group of fighting men, and called a winner when John had the man on his knees, his sword knocked from his hand.

By John’s fourth bout, there were only a dozen men left, most of them knights. More than one man had angrily demanded to know his identity, but John spoke only with the skill of his sword. Everyone was exhausted, and the sun’s heat rose in waves off their armor. The losers became the spectators, falling and propping their heads on their helms to watch the tournament.

When it came down to the final two men, one of them John, he sensed the crowd’s curiosity, knew they were still trying to guess his identity. Though tired, he was ready to battle, especially against an opponent who was trying to pretend he could keep his sword arm up. But John could see the trembling in his hand. This was no time for a cautious approach. John came out swinging his sword with purpose, forcing his opponent to jump over his blade and stagger. But the knight raised his sword enough to parry another hard blow. John felt the concussion right up through his shoulder. His breathing was a harsh gasp; the heat inside his helm made perspiration flow freely down his face, stinging his eyes. But he couldn’t lift his visor to wipe it away. Distantly, he heard men cheering. With his sword he battered the shield until it crashed against the knight’s body.

The knight groaned and tried to stumble away, but John didn’t allow him to retreat. Only when he’d fallen and was unable to lift his sword did Ogden and Parker call the match and declare John the winner.

His opponent managed to stand, swaying. He pulled off his helm. “I am the captain of the guard. Who has defeated me?”

John sheathed his sword and removed his helm. The cheering was suddenly replaced by a tense silence.