Julie Garwood - The Prize

It was of course a very logical question. It wasn't logical that after she told him she was certain, he repeated the same question two more times. He couldn't seem to accept it.

"You're pleased, husband?"

"Yes." He didn't say another word. He didn't need to. There was so much emotion in that simple acknowledgment, so much love. He put his arms around her and held her against him. He was still having difficulty putting his thoughts into words. They stayed that way for a long while, holding each other, kissing, whispering to each other. Every now and then she'd feel him tremble.

Oh, yes, he was very pleased.

The fields outside London had been turned into a paradise of color. Tents with each baron's colors sprinkled the hills overlooking the site where the games would be held. The king's quarters, on the opposite side, were gigantic and far more elegant than all the others.

It seemed to Nicholaa that everyone in England was in attendance. Women, dressed in their finest gowns, strolled beside the jousting fields so they could be noticed by the men. Children ran from cart to cart, snatching sweets. Minstrels moved through the crowd, singing romantic ballads. Heralds were busy watching everyone so they could accurately record the history of the event in their minds for future recitation.

Only six barons had received the honor of having their men engage in the games. Had all the barons been allowed to enter, the festive occasion would have lasted a month or more.

The experienced soldiers engaged in combat first. Nicholaa stood on the side of the hill with Justin at her side and all the other younger soldiers lined up behind her. They cheered for Lawrence and his team. Baron Hanson's soldiers were almost immediately defeated. Baron George's soldiers left the fields next. By early afternoon only two divisions remained. Baron Guy's soldiers were now pitted against Baron Royce's, just as everyone had predicted.

Nicholaa was too nervous to cheer. She didn't watch Lawrence, either. She kept her gaze locked on her husband. He stood at the side of the field, directly across from Guy.

Each time Royce smiled, Nicholaa let out a little sigh of relief. When he frowned, her stomach did a flip. A deafening roar suddenly caught her attention. She turned to the field. Only Lawrence and Henry remained now. Royce's vassal was standing over Henry. Guy's soldier was sprawled on the ground. The tip of Lawrence's sword touched Henry's neck. Lawrence wasn't looking at his prey, though. He was staring at Royce, waiting for his signal.

Nicholaa held her breath. Royce took his sweet time making up his mind. A silence fell over the crowd. Royce turned to his king, caught his smile, and then finally turned back to Lawrence.

Royce finally shook his head. Lawrence immediately backed away from Henry, giving him enough room to get up and leave the field.

It didn't take Lawrence so long to defeat Morgan. Nicholaa thought Lawrence didn't want to take the time to toy with him. He knocked him into a sound sleep within ten minutes.

Only Royce's soldiers remained on the field now. They lined up and walked over to their baron. Their stride was arrogant, their grins telling.

Royce didn't show any outward reaction to the victory. When his soldiers joined him, he merely nodded, then turned and walked to the king's platform. His soldiers fell in behind their baron.

William stood up, raised his hand for silence, and then proclaimed in a shout that once again Baron Royce's soldiers had proved their excellence. They would all be suitably rewarded. The cheers were nearly deafening.

Nicholaa clasped her hands together and said a prayer of thanksgiving for the victory.

It would soon be time for the younger soldiers to participate. Nicholaa turned to her brother and took his hand. "No matter what happens, I want you to know how proud I am of you," she whispered.

Since the other soldiers were watching, she didn't hug him. She squeezed his hand instead. God's truth, she didn't want him to go down that hill. She forced herself to let go of him. Bryan helped Justin put on the leather hauberk. Justin flexed his arms. The left sleeve was a bit stiffer than the right. Nicholaa watched her brother adjust the fit, then nod with satisfaction.

The trumpets sounded from the field, calling the soldiers into position. The men bowed to Nicholaa, straightened their shoulders, and then fell into line behind their commander. Justin led the procession down the hill.

Nicholaa watched her brother follow the path down to the base of the hill. She spotted Royce then. He'd walked across the field and was now waiting at the edge for his soldiers to join him. He would give them his instructions, then await his second victory.

Nicholaa could see her husband clearly. He was smiling. The most remarkable thing happened to her then. Every bit of her fear vanished. She drew such strength from her husband's arrogant confidence.

Royce looked up at Nicholaa. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. She looked like a vision to him, dressed in shimmering blue. She was a beautiful woman, yes, but what captivated Royce was her smile.

Justin had to clear his throat in order to get his baron's attention. Royce seemed content to stand there staring up at his wife for the rest of the afternoon. The other soldiers were already in deep discussion with their barons, who were issuing last-minute instructions.

Royce forced himself to turn away from his wife. He gave his soldiers one simple order. "You will give me victory today." He then turned and walked by Justin's side toward the center of the field.

"Will we use swords, Baron?" Justin asked.

"The king will decide. Wait until you receive his instructions."

Justin nodded. There was still a fair distance to walk. He cleared his throat again. "Baron?"

"Yes?"

"I noticed that over the past few weeks you've seemed more concerned about training me than the others. Was that because you had less faith in my ability?"

Royce held his smile. Justin was experiencing an attack of pre-battle worries. It was a common affliction, especially among the younger, unseasoned soldiers.

"As your baron, I have complete faith in your ability. I didn't give you this honor, Justin. You earned it. As your brother, however, I'll admit I've forced you to work harder. You have to be better than the others, remember?"

"I remember."

"You have fulfilled my expectations," Royce announced, giving him the praise he knew he needed to hear.

"Thank you."

Royce did smile then. "You insult me by giving me your gratitude," he said. "As your baron, I was only doing my duty."

Justin didn't look at Royce but kept his gaze directed on the center of the field. "I wasn't thanking my baron," he said. His voice was gruff with emotion. "I was thanking my brother."

Royce gave Justin an affectionate cuff on the side of his neck. They reached the center of the field. Justin and the other nine were the first to arrive. The other competitors were still in huddles with their barons.

"Was there something more you wished to say to us?" Justin asked when the baron started to walk away.

Royce turned around. "The others need further instruction. You don't. I've told you what I expect. Victory, Justin. Nothing less."

Nicholaa watched her husband walk to the side of the field. He had such a wonderful swagger. She started laughing. Justin and his team were lined up now. They all stood with their legs braced apart and their arms at their sides. They radiated confidence.

Clayton the herald drew her notice then. He climbed the hill and stopped at Nicholaa's side.

"History is being made this fine day," he told Nicholaa. "A one-handed warrior is leading Baron Royce's soldiers in combat. This is what legends are made of, Lady Nicholaa."