Michael, JECKS - The Tournament of Blood

‘She could be anywhere, Simon,’ Margaret declared tearfully.

‘We’ll find her, Meg,’ he said reassuringly.

‘Of course we shall,’ Baldwin soothed. ‘But there is no point in waiting here, Margaret. You should return to the castle and we will contact you there. After all, she may have returned there already.’

Simon gazed about him. ‘You think so? What if Edith should return here? Wouldn’t it be best for Meg to wait and–’

‘If she was to return here, she would surely have done so already. No! Far better that Margaret should wait in the castle,’ Baldwin said firmly, and Hugh nodded.

Simon was willing to be persuaded. ‘If you’re sure. Take her back, Hugh, and Baldwin and I’ll look for Edith. Silly imbecile!’ he added as the other two disappeared in the direction of the castle’s entrance. ‘Where could she have run to?’

Baldwin rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder. He could hear the anxiety in Simon’s voice, and no words were necessary. ‘Come!’

They walked from the stands to the river, and while Simon stayed on the northern bank, Baldwin crossed at his ford and checked the farther side. He found three men with their women concealed in the long grasses, and each time he hoped that one of them would be Edith – and each time he dreaded it. In the event he could not find her, and none of the boys or girls there could help. No one had seen her.

Disappointed, Baldwin continued on his way while Simon kept pace on the other bank. It was as they passed by the line of stalls run by the armourers that Simon suddenly gave a hoarse cry. Glancing towards him, Baldwin saw the direction of his gaze and, following it, found Edith. ‘Thank God,’ he breathed, for although he had not voiced his fear, he had been worried that she might have been captured by an errant lad or a drunk, and perhaps raped or worse. Seeing her chattering delightedly with the well-formed and good-looking man at her side, at least he could be sure that she was unharmed. If she had submitted to the fellow, it was not unwillingly. He eyed the water but decided against trying to cross it here. It was flowing too quickly for his taste, and instead he hurried back to the ford.

‘Edith! Where in God’s name have you been? Your mother has been worrying herself frantic!’ Simon had just about had enough – of everything!

The girl broke away from her lover and joined him. ‘I left the ber frois , Father, as Mother told me, and then she didn’t come out,’ Edith said coolly. ‘Then some men came over and would have molested me.’

Simon studied his daughter. She looked calm, if ratty at being accosted like this, but there was no trace of guilt on her countenance; no flush of shame. He was about to thank the lad at her side when he saw that from his belt the squire carried a woman’s token, and at the same moment he recognised Edith’s neck-scarf.

‘Father, Squire William rescued me,’ she said. ‘Even with his wounds, he came to protect me.’

‘Yes, very good,’ Simon said coldly. ‘And now I shall take you to your mother so that she can see you’re well. She was petrified; didn’t know where you had got to or whether you’d been captured by some felon.’

‘I shall come along shortly,’ Edith said distantly.

‘You will come now!’

‘I can look after her, Bailiff,’ William said.

‘I thank you, but I can protect her well enough,’ Simon said with poisonous gratitude.

William’s face coloured. ‘I think you should trust the man who has saved her already.’

‘Do you? I think I should not trust the boy she has been seeing behind her parents’ backs.’

‘I haven’t,’ Edith declared hotly.

‘No? You mean that he found that token lying in the road?’ Simon exclaimed angrily, pointing at William’s belt. ‘Don’t lie to me, Edith!’

‘Bailiff, there’s no need to raise your voice,’ William said.

‘I shall speak to my own daughter as I wish, and I would be grateful if you would not interrupt.’

‘Father, William simply happened to be there and saved me from the peasants behind the ber frois . I don’t see why you can’t be thankful that…’

‘Some puppy took you away from your mother? Or that he met you clandestinely and has been carrying your token? Or that in order to conceal it from your parents, you chose to lie to me?’

Edith froze at his furious outburst. ‘I didn’t lie to you.’

‘No, you were careful to deceive us more subtly, weren’t you?’

‘Bailiff,’ William tried again, but Simon made a gesture with his hand.

Approaching them, Baldwin saw Simon step forward. He saw him reach for Edith, but at the same time William retreated a pace, his hand whipping to the long-bladed dagger that hung at his belt.

Roaring, ‘ No !’ Baldwin sprang forward the remaining thirty yards. Simon, he saw, jumped back as the blade danced in the sunlight; he heard Edith give a short shriek, her hand going to her mouth, while William took her shoulder and pulled her towards him. Simon made as if to reach for his daughter, but William’s knife was already there and Simon almost grazed his forearm on the wicked steel.

Baldwin darted to William’s side, and the boy saw his movement and shot a glance at him. As Baldwin saw William’s eyes take him in, he kept going until he was almost behind the lad. Simon made a grab for his daughter and William’s attention was diverted. He turned to face Simon and instantly Baldwin was in close, one foot lashing out to catch William behind the knees. The youth’s legs collapsed and he fell like an arrow plummeting into water, his wrist gripped in Baldwin’s hand. Simon took Edith’s arm and pulled her away.

William reached for his knife, which he had dropped, but Baldwin stepped upon it and put a hand on the lad’s shoulder. ‘Enough!’ he cried heartily. ‘There is no blood spilt, no harm done. I think we should forget that this ever happened.’

He held William’s gaze as he spoke, and although his tone was genial and pleasant, there was nothing amiable in his face. William could see cold contempt there, and glittering anger in his brown eyes.

‘I’d give a shilling on the Bailiff,’ one voice called. Another drily observed, ‘You think so? I’d give the boy my shilling. The Bailiff needed a friend to beat one boy.’

‘There will be no more fighting,’ Baldwin stated. ‘No, and if you want to see fighting, go and watch the jousts. That is where the action is. The squire here won’t fight with the Bailiff, after all. The Bailiff can’t be seen to be squabbling with a squire, and no squire who expects to be dubbed knight would want his honour stained by picking a quarrel with the father of his maid, would he?’ Baldwin smiled, still staring, unblinking, at William. ‘Not unless he wanted his lord to stop his promotion. A squire who fights Lord Hugh’s Bailiff can scarcely expect him to be impressed. Lord Hugh is more likely to refuse to knight a man who insults his officers like that.’

Squire William nodded in good part. ‘You are right, Sir Baldwin, and I am impressed with your skills. I’d like to pit myself against you in the tournament.’

‘I fear my own days as a jouster are far gone,’ Baldwin said untruthfully. If he never had to joust again, he would be content.

‘Perhaps we could test our relative prowess?’

‘There would be little merit in a fight between a youth full in his prime and an old fool like me,’ Baldwin countered politely. ‘I am sure your better training and the strength of your youth would show.’

He bent and offered William his hand. The squire grunted with pain and winced as he clambered to his feet. Baldwin motioned towards the knife. ‘Do not leave it or it might rust,’ he said.