Page 92 of An Enchanted Spring
Emma stared out over the lists, awed. Clan-colored flags hung from a series of long wooden beams that were placed end-to-end on supports, directly through the middle of theenclosure. The same flags hung in the wooden stands, where people were quickly filling up the seats in their respective areas. The largest section was decorated with blue-and-gray flags, and hung from what looked like a president’s box above the tallest stand was a large tapestry emblazoned with a shield. On it, a hawk proudly flew, its wings spread wide, a shield on its chest…and that shield displayed the letter M, leaves of ivy snaking their way around each line of the letter, with a sword piercing it all.
Just like the napkin at The Colcannon, Emma remembered. She felt a strange sense of worlds colliding as she studied the tapestry.
“We’re heading up there, to the best seats in the house,” Brianagh said excitedly, dragging her up the steps. “This is my favorite part of these things!”
From the higher vantage point, Emma could see clear across the crowd, down into the jousting area, and the one marked for swordsmanship. The MacWilliam section was filled with a few hundred people, all waving bits of blue or gray cloth and wearing clan colors. The Monaghans wore their bright green, and though they were small in number, they certainly made up for it in noise. Emma counted nine different clans gathered for the tournament, and she concluded that this probably had to be a very big event. She hadn’t ever read that nine clans gathered together peacefully. One or two, perhaps, but nine…
“How do you do it?” she asked Brianagh, unable to overcome her amazement. “Nine clans, in one place, without fighting?”
“Love conquers all, Emma.” She glanced out at the crowd, a happy grin on her face. “It really does.”
A horn blew from below, and there was a mad dash to find seats. People were cheering wildly, and women were lining the front row, displaying their ample charms.
“They’re hoping for a flag from one of the warriors,” Briexplained. “In exchange, they’ll give him a favor—in our case, instead of a ribbon, it’s a kiss!”
Emma laughed. “I guess that’s one way to go about it.”
The horn blew again, and this time, a line of horses galloped in, kicking up dust as they circled the arena, the men holding their clan’s flag high. Each man was dressed in chain mail, the sounds of it just audible under the beat of hooves. The arena pulsed with energy as the ladies in front started calling and cheering, and the men behind them booed until their own clansman passed by, at which point they went wild.
The warriors galloped around the arena twice, then they broke the line and each headed in a different direction. The noise in the arena shook the wood beneath Emma’s feet. She gripped the edge of the box and grinned at Brianagh and Nioclas, who stood next to her. She never experienced energy like this.
A horseman rode over to their section, his helmet drawn. He expertly reined in his horse and made a show of walking the beast back and forth, looking at each woman who waved and called out to him. He rubbed the chin of his closed helmet thoughtfully, as though he were contemplating which woman to give his flag to when suddenly he vaulted off his horse and hopped over the banister, into the crowd.
Noise unlike any Emma had ever heard ensued. Clansmen were cheering madly, women were jostling each other to get to him, but he charged up the steps and stopped directly in front of Emma.
He flipped the helmet off, revealing his face, though his hair was covered by the chain mail. Emma’s heart began to pound as they stared at each other for a moment.
She recovered enough to murmur, “This is a very different look than the wealthy recluse or the medieval clansman.”
“I wear”—Aidan held out his helmet—“many hats.”
“Oh, that’s a terrible pun,” Emma laughed.
“But it made you smile, and so I shall continue them. Butafter, perhaps, I’ve shown you my skills.” Louder, he asked, “A flag, my lady?”
“How much does that chain mail weigh?” Emma wondered aloud as she took the cloth he offered.
“You know, you should never answer a question with a question.”
She grinned. “Who told you that?”
“A very savvy publicist.” The world narrowed to just the two of them.
“Aidan,” she whispered, emotion welling in her throat.
His playful smile vanished. “We shall have true speech later, Emmaline. Today, simply enjoy the day.”
He turned to the crowd below them and wagged his eyebrows playfully. They cheered, and he turned back to Emma, offering his cheek, waiting for her kiss.
She leaned in, and at the last moment, he turned, capturing her lips with his. He didn’t linger, but he gave her a quick bite on her lower lip before pulling away and facing the crowd in triumph.
Emma covered her mouth and started laughing, though her heart took flight.
He shot her a wink over his shoulder and said, “About fifty pounds,” before he charged back down the steps, hopped the banister, and vaulted himself onto his horse.
“Fifty pounds?”
“The weight of his chain mail.” Brianagh’s eyes danced as she watched him gallop off.
