A Tournament at Midsummer

It was Tilde, laying at the base of the stairs with her neck crooked at an angle that instantly proved she was dead. Her feet pointed up the stairs the way she had fallen, and her arms lay splayed out at her side. The back of her head was wet with blood, and a small pool had formed beneath her where she lay. Behind him, Vesian heard Adeline gasp in shock.

"She fell," one of the lords said. "I hear her scream from the floor above, then she came banging down the stairs and end up like that."

"The poor woman was dead before she stopped falling," added another. "These narrow stairs can be so treacherous."

Vesian nodded and said nothing more. He knelt beside Tilde, looking over her head wound. Adeline moved up beside him, her cloak drawn tight about her to hide her identity. Fortunately, the other gawkers were more interested in the corpse before than in the princess incognito. Vesian touched a hand to the bloody spot on Tilde's head. It was wet and fresh, but had bled more than it would have had time to on the brief tumble down the stairs. Her neck was flushed as well, as if it had been throttled.

There was a strange mark on her cheek, as if something had tried to take a bite out of her. Vesian looked closer, touching the wound, and found it was an imprint. He leaned in, and someone in the crowd scoffed.

"It's a bit late to give the poor girl a kiss," one of the lords sneered. "Mind your manners, sirrah."

Vesian ignored him. The imprint was round, with a raised middle that showed a tower beneath crossed lances. It was the mark of a signet ring. Someone had struck Tilde before throwing her down the stairs, and left his mark on her. He suppressed a wolfish smile. He already had a suspect.

"Has someone sent for a priest?" Vesian asked, standing up from the body. The lords and ladies assembled looked about in confusion. "You, find a priest and ensure this poor woman receives her last rites. This is the princess' servant, and I will inform her of the accident."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and grabbed Adeline by her arm to lead her away while she was still unnoticed. The princess made no reply and numbly let herself be led away from the crowd, which returned to their chattering as they retreated from the hall.

"I think I know who killed her," Vesian said once they were out of earshot. Adeline's eyes snapped up to his.

"Killed?" she asked.

"Aye, killed. Her head wound was fresh, but had been bleeding sometime before she fell, and there is the imprint of a signet ring on her cheek. A tower beneath crossed lances. Do you recognize the sign?"

"I think I've seen it," Adeline said dully. Her brow furrowed in thought, and Vesian saw that her face had gone pale. The poor girl had been deeply shaken by her maid's sudden death. "It was on the lists today... but I can't recall..."

"No worry, I know the man. Sir Dagobert de Taretry, a brutish knight. Cruel enough to throw a woman down the stairs and conniving enough to traffic with a sorcerer. With his signet ring imprinted on her body, he fits the crime. Let's go pay him a visit."

Vesian pulled her along out of the hall, checking his dagger as they went. Underneath her cloak, Adeline carried her own knife he saw, and though it would not be much use in a proper fight, she might defend herself with it well enough.

"Dagobert's pitched his tent near the tournament grounds. I know the place."

"Should we gather others?" Adeline asked. "Even just your squire?"

Vesian shook his head. Thibault was likely three cups deep by now, if he wasn't abed with some wench. He would be no more help in a fight than the princess. "Nay, princess. This is something I can do myself. Come along."

Vesian and Adeline passed back through the gates of the castle and approached the corner of the tournament grounds where Sir Dagobert's tent stood, sable and emblazoned with a red tower. It was a two-peaked black affair, its front flap closed and a solitary torch burning outside it. While the village was still bustling with revelers, the streets around Dagobert's tent were quiet, and Vesian set Adeline against a wall before he approached.

"Stay here, princess. If anything goes wrong, run to your father and tell him everything. I am going to get a closer look. Perhaps I might uncover others of his plot."

Adeline nodded numbly and pulled her cloak tight around her. In the shadow of the village's ciderhouse, she could be anyone. Anyone except a princess. Vesian smiled and patted the dagger on his belt for reassurance. "I will be right back."

He crept up to the tent and positioned himself just below one of its windows. From inside, he could hear voices, and he overturned a nearby crate to raise himself high enough to look inside. There were two men at the table inside, conferring over goblets of wine. The first had his back to Vesian, but he knew the broad shoulders and balding pate to be that of Sir Dagobert. The other was Baron Tancred de Vouille, a lord sworn to Duke Sigismund.

"It was just a stroke of luck that we saw her," Dagobert was saying. The baron held his goblet before him and fixed his companion with a skeptical eye.

"You're sure it was the same woman from the cellars?"

"Aye," replied Dagobert. "I got a good look at her as she ran. She won't be telling anyone what she saw."

"It's been hours since the meeting in the cellars. Who knows who she has told by now. And we can't go leaving bodies everywhere in a royal castle."

"Don't worry about it. Everyone will think she slipped and fell on the stairs. Between these narrow stairs and the long skirts ladies are wearing, it was bound to happen soon enough, even if we didn't help her along. Now calm down, stable your horses again, and have a drink. Everything will turn out alright. Unless you lose your nerve and go running off in the middle of the night. That might raise some suspicions."

The baron chewed his lip and rubbed his chin. "It would likely be safer for me to find somewhere else to be while this all plays out."

"Nay," Dagobert thumped his fist on the table. "If you leave now, people might think you had something to do with the dead maid. Just act natural, and everyone will play along. You still have a part to play in all this."

The baron sighed and set his goblet down. "I still wish you had never told me about the spy. It would be much easier to act natural if I thought everyone was going according to plan."

"Think of the rewards," Sir Dagobert urged. "Your land disputes will be resolved in your favor, your children will marry higher, and you will sit on the king's privy council."

Baron Tancred smiled cautiously. "That all sounds most enticing," he agreed. "You have steadied my nerves, and for that, I thank you. I have many other concerns that I would like addressed as well. Perhaps we could discuss them now, before the joust tomorrow?"

Vesian turned away at a sound. A group of rough looking men had rounded the corner of the building against which Adeline crouched, and one of them had taken a liking to her. The princess hid herself within the folds of her cloak as the men gathered round, and Vesian grimaced. He looked from the men to the plotters and back. One of the men stopped and looked to him.

"What are you doing?" the man growled, his words slurring heavily with drink. Vesian hopped down from the crate and headed straight for Adeline. "Yeah," another man joined in. "What are you doing looking in the window of a tent?"

The others stopped, torn between Adeline and Vesian, and shuffled about in confusion. Vesian exploited the opportunity to cut through the mass of them and reach the princess. "We should leave," he whispered harshly, and she nodded. Vesian turned to do just that, only to find his path blocked by a broad-chested man with his hands on his hips.

"Where do you think you're going?" the man snarled.

"Apologies, sir. My sister and I are just headed back to our tent. I'm not looking for trouble."

The big man stepped closer, towering a head over Vesian. He stank of drink like his fellows, but his great size had apparently given him the strength to remain sober. He shook a balled-up fist in Vesian's face. "Well, it happens that you found trouble. The man in the tent pays us to watch out for him. And he doesn't like people snooping."

Vesian frowned. These men were certainly not high-quality muscle, but there were enough of them to make themselves a danger. His hand began to drift toward the dagger at his belt.

"Sir, this is a festive occasion. There's no need for anyone to get hurt."

"Oh?" demanded another man, this one sober as well. "But I like hurting people. It's my kind of festive occasion."

"Aye," sneered a third. "And your sister there is a pretty one."

"That's my idea of a festive occasion," growled the big man. "Good drink, then crack some skulls with my mates and pass a pretty wench around between us to come down. What do you say to that?"

Vesian tore the dagger from his belt and stabbed it into the man's chest. He cried out and staggered back. Blood bubbled forth from his chest, soaking his tunic. Vesian did not wait to see if he would survive. With Adeline's hand in his, he ran.

They burst from the knot of ruffians at a run and shouts followed them. Vesian did not look back, but heard the enraged cries and heavy footfalls behind him. Pulling the princess along with him, he ran for the edge of the camp. Three more men appeared before him, and Vesian skidded to a halt. Adeline crashed into him again, wrapping her arms around him to keep from toppling. The three men looked to Aranthir in confused surprise, the bloody dagger still in his hand.

"Stop them!" came the cry from behind, and one of the men before him reached for his swordbelt. Vesian turned and ran from them as well, and the camp seemed to come alive around him. With no time to think, he barreled through a laundry line, the ropes and clothes nearly ensnaring him but doing more to entangle his drunken pursuers. He spared a look back, and saw a furious gaggle of men waving knives, clubs, and other weapons at him from across the launderers' yard. They were fast untangling themselves.

"This way!" Adeline cried, and pulled him along for a change. They broke through another line of tents, their pursuers' cries growing louder behind them, and fled across an empty field. The shouts grew closer, and Vesian ran hand in hand with the princess, hoping the field was entirely flat. Ahead of them, he saw the darkness grow deeper. They were headed toward the woods.

Tall oaks loomed before them in the darkness but Vesian found himself driven beneath their boughs by the shouts from behind. He and the princess darted past the well-maintained border of the forest and turned to look back.

Their pursuers had fanned out, though never more than two armspans from each other. Two of them held torches aloft, while the rest readied various instruments of violence. Of the man Vesian had stabbed, there was no sign.

"Come on out of there!" one of the men roared. To his left, his companion with a torch swayed drunkenly in the night breeze.

"Should we fight?" Adeline asked in a whisper. "They look quite drunk."

"No, I have only this dagger and, drunk or not, there are quite a few of them. These woods hold little danger by themselves, though they seem afraid to enter. Do you know your way around here?"

The princess shook her head. "Every time I come in here, I do so in the company of dozens of servants, the king's huntsmen, and hounds. And I've never been in after dark."

"At least the king's wardens keep the ground clear for the horses," Vesian muttered. "My greatest fear in a darkened forest is tripping over a root and ending up lame."

The men in the field shouted for them to come out again. Vesian looked in the opposite direction.

"Come on. They're mustering their courage and will be in after us soon enough. We should use this time to make ourselves scarce."

"And then what?" demanded Adeline, her blue eyes wide. "Where are we to go?"

"Away from the castle. Then we can double back once they've lost interest or in the morning. You won't be missed for long, and once the king's knights find us, those thugs won't dare raise a hand to you."

Adeline nodded and cast a worried look toward the ruffians just beyond the forest's edge. She pulled her cloak tight around herself and they set off in the other direction, heading deeper into the woods.

Twice, Vesian looked back to see the ruffians' torches, close enough that he knew they had entered the woods to look for them. He did not inform the princess, who already seemed worried enough. They headed on and the air grew colder and wetter until Vesian heard raindrops landing on the leaves above them. The rain at first fell in a gentle shower, but grew heavier until he heard the distant rumble of thunder.

Adeline stopped. "We must find somewhere to shelter ourselves until this rain passes. I don't want to catch cold and die out here."

Vesian sighed. The princess' cloak would serve her well if they could find a tree to stand beneath, but he was in for a wet night. He made to say something, but through the darkened wood he spotted the warm glow of a light. It was in the direction they had been walking, and a look behind him showed no signs of their pursuers. The princess was examining the hollow of a leaning oak when he stopped her.

"Look there," he said. "A light in this rain must be a house of some kind. And someone is home."

"What if they come looking for us there?" she asked, casting a look behind to where their pursuers had last been heard.

"Then we will likely have a stout door between us and them. But I think they've turned in for the night. The rain will likely have doused their torches, and they weren't dressed for the wet."

"Very well," she sighed, and Vesian led her forward.

The light, they soon learned, was a candle burning in the window of a small gameskeeper's lodge. Empty cages lay out front and a tanning rack stood near the door. The house was small and simple, with a tall peaked roof of thatch and wattle-and-daub walls that shone white in the dark night. Vesian hurried to the door and knocked loudly.

After a long pause, the door cracked open and an old, worn face peered out at him.

"Aye? Who's that there?"

"Apologies for the intrusion, good master. I am Sir Vesian de Surrac, and this is my sister Adeline. We were out for a stroll and got caught in this storm. Might we ask your hospitality for the night?"

The man frowned and opened the door wider to look at the princess. "Sister, eh? She don't look much like you."

"We have different mothers," Vesian tried to explain, but the man shrugged.

"Oh, it's none of my business. Plenty of young couples out in the woods during a tournament like this. Come on in out of the rain, I won't have anybody freezing to death on my doorstep. His Majesty would be having none of that, no sir."

Vesian gladly rushed through the open door with Adeline as the man continued to ramble on.

"His Majesty's grandfather set aside these woods for hunting deer, but when there's a tournament on, there's knights all over the forest with their lances hunting for another kind of flesh! Ha! I won't be getting in your way, good sir. You and the fair dame can have the loft, it's nice and cozy up there. Unless you'd rather have the place by the fire?"

"The loft will be fine, good master. We'll be off as soon as the rain abates. I've a spot in the lists tomorrow morning."

"Well then good luck to you, sir. And to you, my lady, good fortune as well." He gave Vesian a sideways look. "And be sure you know what you're getting into. I was a young lad myself once, I know every kind of them there is. I am Pepin. If you need anything, just call."

He turned and went back to his hearth, where the fire was roaring despite the rain outside. The lodge was a single room on the first floor, with a large stone hearth and racks of hunting trophies. Against one wall sat a row of unstrung bowstaves over sheaves of arrows. Their host, Pepin, sat himself down before the fire and picked up a whittling knife and a half-made arrow. Whistling as he worked, he returned to his task of fletching without another look at them.

Vesian gave Adeline a shrug and led her up the ladder to the loft. The princess lay herself down on the bed and Vesian took the floor. He removed his wet cloak and surcoat and lay himself down against the loft's railing.

"Sir Vesian," the princess began softly. "I... I wanted to thank you for your aid in this tonight."

"Think nothing of it, your highness," he replied. "It is my duty as a knight of the Order and a loyal subject of your father."

"Still, I must thank you all the same." Vesian rolled over to look at her. She had moved to the opposite side of the bed, leaving a space beside her where he might join her. The princess looked to him, then to the empty space and blushed. Adeline swept the covers over it and rolled over, putting her back to him as she wrapped herself in the bedsheets.

"You are welcome, princess. Good night." Smiling to himself, Vesian pulled his cloak tight about himself and fell asleep

Dawn came slowly through the forest canopy, but when Vesian rose, he found Pepin and Adeline already eating before the hearth. The storm had abated during the night, though the air was still thick and wet.

"Welcome, Sir Vesian," Pepin bid him, holding out a bowl of fried eggs. Vesian took it eagerly, for he only now realized that their adventures in the forest the night before had left him no time to eat. Adeline ate in silence, though she kept raising her head to look at Vesian, only to look away and blush whenever he returned her state. Pepin smiled to himself.

When he was finished, the warden stood up and took a bow staff and string from the wall.

"I'm off to tend to the forest," he announced. "I thought I heard a tree fall in the storm, and it won't do for one of these lords' horses to go tripping over it. I bid you two a good day."

They returned his salutation and he bowed and went out the door. Vesian and the princess were left alone.

"Sir Vesian," she started hesitantly, "About last time."

"Did you sleep well?" he cut her off.

"No, well... I did, but that's not what I wanted to say. I..."

"Princess, do not worry about it. I am a knight of the Order. I would not take advantage of a lady, especially one as royal as you. Think of it no more. Now come along, we must be back to the tournament before anyone misses us."

Adeline nodded and set aside her bowl. They gathered what few things they had brought and left the lodge straight away. Outside was a narrow, muddy path that led back to the main road after winding through the king's woods. They traveled in silence, hearing only the rain dripping from the leaves and distant birds chirping. They could not be more than two miles from the tournament grounds, but Vesian felt as if he were deep in the Dalamari Forest, a hundred leagues from even the smallest village.

Soon enough, they rejoined the main road where carts and packhorses trundled in either direction. The appetites of the king and his guests required the whole region to work as one to sate them, and barrels of wine, cider, salted meat, and other foodstuffs filled the wagons even as emptied casks were carried away after a night of revelry. Vesian and Adeline fell in behind a peddler's cart, just two unassuming travelers on the road filled with people who spared them not a second glance.

Back at the tournament grounds, Vesian went straight to his tent with Adeline in tow. Thibault sat outside, dutifully polishing the frog-mouthed helm. Upon seeing Vesian, he stood up with a start.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, looking past Vesian to the princess in her deep cowled cloak. "Oh, no..."