Page 150 of The Robber Knight's Love
“Very well, then...Laissez-les aller!”
The two knights shot forward like arrowsloosed from the string. Around Reuben, the “To-ma-sso, To-ma-sso”of the crowd swelled, until it was like a thunderstorm, and eventhe hoofs of the horses, a thunder of their own, could hardly beheard anymore. Sir Albin lowered his lance in a sharp, abruptmovement. Sir Tomasso's lance came down in a slow arc, as if he hadall the time in the world. They were closing in now, almost uponeach other, only three feet left, two, one...
Suddenly, the little Pole ducked down overthe neck of his horse. Sir Tomasso's lance slid past, over hishead, and the Pole came up again, his own lance ready for thestrike. Yet he hadn't reckoned with the Sicilian's shield-arm. Thelong limb that looked so slim and breakable slammed its defensiveweapon sideways against Sir Albin's lance and forced it away fromits intended target. The knights cantered past each other, withouteither having been able to bring in a hit.
At the end of the lists, the Pole whirled hishorse around with a sharp tug at the reins, and the animal gave apained sound. Reuben gritted his teeth. If there was one thing hecouldn't abide, it was a knight maltreating his mount. The horsewas the knight's best and most loyal friend, and should be treatedaccordingly. Sir Tomasso, he was glad to see, turned his horsearound with a gentle nudge.
Again, the two knights charged, gatheringspeed. The Pole was angry; Reuben could sense it. He was determinedto unhorse his opponent. Too determined. Reuben could feel he wasitching to hit his enemy in the head instead of the chest. If notfor the fact that one could get disqualified for such a move, hemight have tried it.
Instead, he struck out suddenly, viciously,for the shield of his opponent, trying by sheer force to knock himout of the saddle. But there he had underestimated the tallSicilian's weight and strength. Sir Tomasso only rocked backslightly. His lance didn't waver. And a moment later, it hit itstarget.
What a beautiful strike! Reuben smiled as SirAlbin shot from the saddle and sailed through the air, crashinginto the ground a few feet away from the stands. The crowd sprangto its feet, and its cheers drowned out even the curses of thePolish knight: “To-ma-sso! To-ma-sso!”
Watching the Sicilian be cheered by thecrowd, Reuben nodded to himself again. He had known all along itwould come down to this.
Calmly, he reached for his lance and beganexamining it from one end to the other. There were a few scratcheshere and there, but it still was in perfect working order. Next, hebegan checking his armor. A piece might have been torn off ordented during the fight without his noticing, and even a smalldisadvantage could be fatal in a battle between masters.
“To-ma-sso! To-ma-sso!”
Having completed the inspection of his armorto his satisfaction, Reuben fastened all the straps on his helmetmore tightly and stretched his arms to relax the muscles. His rightarm still ached from heaving that mountain off his horse.Gradually, through small, fluid movements, the ache receded, andhis arm was restored to its usual level of strength anddexterity.
Finished with all his preparations, Reubensat and waited—waited for the crowd to grasp what he already knew.The herald had also figured out the inevitable next step. He wastrying to calm down the crowd, still chanting Sir Tomasso'sname.
Finally, the cheers subsided, and the heraldraised his arms, attracting everyone's attention. “Your ImperialMajesty, milords, ladies, citizens—the time for the last joust hascome, the last match of the day, which shall determine who willride off this courtyard as the new Champion of Sicily.”
This silenced the last murmurs in the crowd.Their eyes snapped to Sir Tomasso, and from Sir Tomasso to the onlyother knight remaining on the courtyard, who was just now ridinginto the lists on his black steed, his broad shoulders tensed inanticipation of the fight to come, his lance erect.
The ladies in the crowd gave an audiblegasp.
Reuben, for once, did not pay attention tothem. His mind was on steel, for now. Silk and roses could waittill later.
“Sir Reuben.” The herald gave a little bow.“Take up your position, please.”
Urging on Ajax, Reuben maneuvered him to oneend of the lists. Sir Tomasso was already waiting at the other. Thechampion briefly lowered his lance, a sign of respect. Reubenlowered his lance too, for he had respect for this man. Enoughrespect to not be sure of the outcome of this fight.
“Ready?” the herald demanded.
The Chivalry of Knights andBlack Eyes of Squires
Both Reuben's and Sir Tomasso's lances went down inan almost imperceptible nod to answer the herald’s question. Theywere ready. Reuben did not look to see whether the spectators werebetting this time. His eyes were only for the Sicilian across thecourtyard.
“Then...Laissez-lesaller!”
The words had hardly left the herald's mouth,and already the horses were in movement. A confused medley ofshouts rose from the crowd, some cheering Sir Tomasso, someReuben—the latter mostly girls. Reuben didn't care at that moment.He was focusing totally and absolutely on his opponent. TheSicilian sat in the saddle like a master, the fluid movements ofhis horse hardly jostling the tip of his lance, which remainedrock-steady, centered on Reuben. Reuben's lance was just as steady,pointing at Sir Tomasso. He knew that he would have no chance ofwinning this fight by a trick or quick movement. The Sicilian wasjust as fast as he. Maybe faster.
No, this would be a contest of strength.Taking a deep breath, Reuben tensed his muscles and braced himselffor the impact of the lance. At the last moment, he leaned back, inthe desperate hope to cushion the blow.
When it came, it was still ten times as badas he had feared. Pain lanced up his left side, and he let out astrangled moan that was lost in the thunder of hoofs and the roarof the excited crowd. For a moment, red and blue lights flickeredacross his vision. When they had disappeared, he found himself atthe end of the lists, about to run into the castle wall, andimmediately made his horse turn, searching the courtyard with hiseyes, hoping to see a sprawled figure on the ground.
Sir Tomasso still sat atop his steed, waitingat the other end of the courtyard.
Well, Reuben had never expected this to beover after only one run. Quite the contrary, in fact.
“Hüa, Ajax! Hüa!”
The black stallion charged again, and at theopposite end of the lists, Sir Tomasso's graceful mount did thesame. They raced towards each other. Once more, Reuben bracedhimself. Once more, he leaned back, in anticipation of the striketo come.
The crash of the collision was deafening.Suddenly, Reuben felt a sharp tear on his left arm and cried out inpain, suppressing a curse. No! Sir Tomasso's lance had caught onthe edge of his shield and ripped it right off his arm! The leatherstraps had not been strong enough to withstand the strain. Grittinghis teeth in pain, Reuben swore to himself that when he returned toLimburg, he would make the tanner who had made the accursed thingstan his own hide!
