The Agents of William Marshal Volume I: A Medieval Romance Bundle, page 155
“I intend to win this, Sherston,” Dashiell said. “You had better be prepared to fight until the death.”
Sherston grinned. “I am prepared, my lord. I have a solid club that I stole. Someone put spikes in it, in fact.”
It was then that he looked at Dashiell and Bentley and Aston’s clubs; they were all spiked, all stolen from men who had tried to brain them. He ended up laughing.
“I see we are all prepared to do our worst,” he said. “God help our opponents.”
Dashiell looked out over the field again. He did take his eyes off the distant gangs for a brief second, long enough to look in the lists to see Belladonna, Lily, and Acacia sitting there, cheering them on. At least Belladonna and Lily were; Acacia was simply sitting there as if bored.
But all Dashiell wanted to do was make sure Belladonna was safe and secure; he’d been glancing into the lists ever couple of minutes since the event started. But now, he returned his focus to the mass. The event was drawing to a close, and he intended to be the last man standing.
It was time to end it.
“I would prefer that God not help them,” he said. “I intend to be very wealthy by day’s end and I cannot do that if God is not on my side. Therefore, with His help, we must organize and end this.”
“What do you have in mind, Dash?” Bentley asked over his shoulder.
Dashiell was pointing to the group of about six knights who seemed to be defeating everyone else. “See them?” he said. “That is a group of knights from Wendlebury. They fought one battle against the king and no one has seen them since. Rumor has it that they have defected to John and, from what I have seen, they are not only capturing men to ransom, but they are crippling them. All of these men have fought against the king, so that tells me there may be some truth to that rumor.”
Bentley had his eyes on the group of six knights, currently pummeling a couple of men who were putting up a valiant fight.
“I’ve seen them,” he said. “I saw them put a Malmesbury knight down so brutally that the man had to be dragged off the field. They could not even ransom him because he was bleeding so badly.”
“I wonder why the field marshals aren’t disqualifying them,” Aston wondered. “Surely their tactics are unethical.”
Dashiell cocked an eyebrow. “Mayhap they are unethical, but they are not illegal,” he said. “You know that nothing is illegal in something like this, and you must trust your opponents to be somewhat chivalrous in their treatment of you. But these men… they have no such chivalry or morals.”
“Then what do we do?” Bentley asked.
Dashiell’s gaze was fixed on the group of ruffians. “We use the element of surprise,” he said. “We attack them while they are focused on that smaller group. They are going to come after us next and I do not intend to stand here and wait for them to move. We must attack them first.”
It seemed like a logical plan, so the four of them prepared for the coming fight. Moving along the northern edge of the field, they had to fight off a few random knights, beating down each of them in succession and leaving it to the Savernake soldiers to collect them and pull them in with the rest of the captives.
Closer still, they came. There weren’t many men on the field now, making their movements more obvious, and the people in the lists began to shout encouragement, cheering them on. Dashiell didn’t dare turn to see if Belladonna was watching him, but he was certain she was. In the few times he’d looked to her, she had been looking straight at him, so he knew instinctively that she was watching him.
Now, he was about to make her terribly proud.
But that was before a booming voice suddenly echoed on the field, startling Dashiell enough that he stopped stalking the Wendlebury knights. He recognized the voice; God help him, he did. And by the time he turned to the source, Edward was making his way onto the field, holding up his hands and giving a blessing to the men in mock-battle.
“By the power of God given me this day, I absolve you of your sins, all of you, poor wretched creatures given whim to earthy sins!”
“Christ,” Dashiell hissed. “He’s going to get himself killed.”
He was already on the run, heading for Edward, who was between the group of Wendlebury knights and the group of Savernake knights. Dressed in heavy robes, Edward was like a beacon, drawing every man who wanted to extract a massive ransom right to him.
Dashiell could see that. He could see that Edward already had the attention of nearly everyone on the field, and he ran faster than he’d ever run in his life. By the time he reached Edward, who was making the sign of the cross in the direction of the lists, a few of the Wendlebury knights had reached him also.
At that point, Dashiell did the only thing he could do. He tackled the Wendlebury knights with the force of a runaway horse, plowing into them and sending at least four of them straight into the mud. As the group descended into throwing punches, Dashiell bellowed at Aston and Bentley.
“Get him out of here!”
Aston grabbed Edward and yanked the man towards the edge of the field as Bentley and Sherston went to help Dashiell. Somewhere, he’d lost his club, but his fists were doing serious damage. Bentley and Sherston jumped in with their clubs and began beating the Wendlebury knights, beating them for all they were worth. They might have been outnumbered, but they weren’t going to go down without a fight.
But they weren’t the only ones drawn in to the battle.
Sitting in the lists, Belladonna and Lily saw when their father entered the field, and it was Lily who saw Clayton standing several yards back from the edge of the tournament field, trying to conceal himself in the spectators. But he was quickly forgotten when Dashiell and Bentley went to fight off the predatory knights as Aston struggled to remove the duke from the field. Being that the duke was a big man, and healthy, he didn’t like being roughly handled, so he began to struggle against Aston as the man tried to save his life.
That was all Belladonna and Lily needed to see. Suddenly, they were bolting up from their seats, rushing from the lists and running towards the edge of the field where Aston was literally fighting with Edward now, who was confused and agitated. As Lily rushed to help Aston with her father, Belladonna ran to the edge of the field to see about Dashiell and Bentley.
She simply couldn’t leave them on their own.
Aye, it was foolish of her to want to help Dashiell, but the man had compromised himself trying to save her father. Belladonna didn’t know where her father had come from, or why he’d suddenly appeared, but the fact remained that he had, and Dashiell had done what he was required to do –
Save him.
There were groups of spectators at the edge of the field, men who were simply observing or men who had been in the fighting but had somehow managed to emerge without being captured. There were men with clubs in their hands and those without, but Belladonna was fixed on those with the clubs. In fact, as she ran past one of the men, she yanked the club right out of his hand. She kept running, pushing past observers who tried to grab her to prevent her from running onto the field.
But it didn’t work.
With a cry of pure anger, of pure anguish at her beloved Dashiell being beaten by horrid knights, Belladonna made it onto the field and began swinging the club at the heads of the men grappling with Dashiell.
The first man was smashed right in the face, destroying his nose and teeth. As blood spurted and he fell off Dashiell, Belladonna brought the club around again at the man on Dashiell’s back and hit him on the back of the neck. It wasn’t enough to really hurt him, but it did get his attention. By the time he turned around to fight back, her club was already sailing in a downward motion, catching him in the face. As he fell away, Dashiell was free and he leapt to his feet.
Seeing Belladonna on the tournament field was inarguably the most frightening thing he’d ever seen in his life. Four of the six Wendlebury knights were down and injured, leaving the remaining two for Bentley and Sherston. Dashiell didn’t even give thought to continuing the fight; he rushed at Belladonna, threw her over his shoulder, and ran from the field as fast as his shaking legs would carry him.
Bentley and Sherston were declared the winners a short time later. It was an exciting end to a most exciting mass competition.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Belladonna knew she was in trouble.
She knew this because Dashiell hadn’t said a word to her other than telling her to remain in her tent and not leave. It wasn’t so much what he said but how he’d said it. She knew that he would be terribly angry at her if she disobeyed, so she didn’t. She simply sat on a stool near the brazier, warming herself, as the sounds of the encampment went on outside.
Acacia hadn’t returned from the lists. She had no idea where her sister was, and Lily hadn’t made an appearance, either, leaving Belladonna to believe that, somehow, she was being punished. Maybe Dashiell was keeping everyone from her, like some terrible solitary confinement. But as she sat there and stewed, the tent flap moved aside and a familiar figured stepped through.
“Are you well, Bella?” It was Jillayne, her fair face wrought with worry. “God’s Bones, when I saw you rushing the field, I nearly fainted!”
Belladonna was relieved to see at least one friendly face. Standing up, she went to grasp Jillayne’s outstretched hands.
“I am well,” she assured her petite, pretty friend. “No harm done.”
Jillayne forced a smile. “What happened?” she asked. “Why did you rush out to the field?”
Belladonna’s smile faded. “I am not entirely sure,” she said, and it was the truth. “I saw my father out there, and suddenly there were men rushing towards him… I thought he was going to be killed. I had to help him. I had to help them all.”
Jillayne squeezed her hands. “Your father is well,” she said. “I have just come from his tent. My father is with him now, as are some of your father’s men. They are all seeing to him and he is well. Sir Dashiell asked me to come and sit with you so that you are not alone.”
So… he wasn’t furious at her? At least, Belladonna could hope that was the case. She pulled Jillayne over to the stool where she’d been sitting, pulling up a second stool for herself.
“Sit,” she told her friend. “I am glad you’ve come to visit. We did not have a chance to speak yesterday when I brought you the pup.”
Jillayne’s face lit up. “He is a sweet animal,” she said. “He slept with me last night. My father already says he wants to breed him to our dogs to create very fine hunting stock.”
She seemed very excited about it and Belladonna was pleased. “They are very good dogs,” she said. “The knights of Savernake sell them to lords at a good price.”
Jillayne grinned. “I have my own fine stock now and I did not have to pay for it,” she said, watching Belladonna giggle. “It has been a long time since we last saw one another, Bella. I did not know your father… I mean, I did not know he was so… sick.”
Belladonna’s smile faded. “It started about three years ago,” she said. “It has gotten worse every day. In fact, the day we left for Chadlington, he did not even know me. That has never happened before. I suppose that is why I rushed the field – he seems to have no sense of danger. I am not ready to lose my father yet.”
She wasn’t ready to lose her father yet, for a variety of reasons. Firstly, because she loved him, but secondly because his death would mean Clayton would inherit the dukedom. There was panic in that thought. But Jillayne was sympathetic.
“My grandsire went mad in the last year of his life,” she said. “It is difficult when they do not realize something is wrong.”
Belladonna smiled weakly. “My father believes he is Paul the Apostle,” she said. “That was why he was on the battlefield. He was blessing the men.”
Before Jillayne could reply, the tent flap moved again and Lord Sherston abruptly appeared. He was looking at Belladonna but politely acknowledged Jillayne, seated near the brazier.
“My lady?” Sherston addressed Belladonna. “I apologize if I am interrupting, but I was given permission by Dashiell to inquire on your health.”
He is on our side. Belladonna remembered what Dashiell had told her and in spite of the oddity of her introduction to Lord Sherston last night, she smiled politely at the man.
“You are not interrupting, my lord,” she said. “And I am doing very well, thank you.”
He remained in the tent opening, making no move to enter. “That is good news,” he said. “What you did was quite brave, my lady. I commend you for it.”
Belladonna wasn’t too sure she should be congratulated, considering the chaos that had been going on. “It was foolish, I suppose, but when my father entered the field… I was greatly afraid for his life. I needed to help him. And Dash and you and the others – you were being set upon by fiends. I simply could not stand by and watch that happen.”
Sherston smiled at her. The lady was not only beautiful, she was brave. He was coming to regret having told Dashiell he wouldn’t accept the proposal, but it was a regret he was going to have to live with. He was a man of his word.
“Your father does not have a scratch on him,” he said. “You did, indeed, help him. And you helped Dash, too. Had you not beaten back those men, he might have been seriously injured.”
She flushed, ever so slightly, glancing at Jillayne, who seemed to be fixated on Sherston. She was staring at him with a greatly interested expression.
“Dash has not spoken to me since the incident, so I would not know how he fares,” Belladonna said. Then, she shifted the subject. “My lord, do you know Lady Jillayne Chadlington? It is her celebration we are attending. It is her day of birth.”
In fact, Sherston had been waiting for this introduction. He’d hoped to have it last night, but he’d been occupied with Clayton for most of the night in order to keep him away from Belladonna and Dashiell, so the introduction Dashiell had promised him never came. But here it was, in a private setting no less, and he had to admit that he was quite taken with Lady Jillayne’s petite beauty.
“My lady,” he said, bowing his head gallantly. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Anthony Cromford, Lord Sherston.”
Jillayne flushed prettily; she was quite adept in the art of feminine flirtation. “It is an honor, my lord,” she said. “May I congratulate you on winning the mass competition?”
Sherston grinned. “It was purely by chance, I assure you,” he said. “Luckily, Lady Belladonna gave us the advantage we needed to secure the victory. I would be proud to take her into battle with me any time.”
Belladonna was mortified, but in a good-natured sense. As she shook her head firmly, and Jillayne giggled, another body came to stand next to Sherston.
Dashiell had finally made an appearance.
“How are things with the duke?” Sherston asked him. “No ill effects?”
Dashiell was bruised and beaten, and his right eye had a hint of dark shadows around it, but he was otherwise whole enough. His gaze was on Belladonna.
“No ill effects,” he said. “But Clayton is nowhere to be found. Have you seen him?”
Sherston shook his head, slowly. “Nay,” he said, “but I would be willing to wager that if I walk this encampment and the outlying area, he might very well find me.”
That was probably true. Clayton wanted something from Sherston, and considered him an ally, so Dashiell nodded his head.
“Would you mind?” he asked.
“Not at all,” Sherston replied. “When I find him, where would you have me take him?”
“Where are you staying?”
“In town, at the only tavern.”
“Take him there. I shall join you at some point soon.”
Sherston simply nodded. Then, he turned to Jillayne and dipped his head once more.
“My lady,” he said. “It was a great honor to know you. I hope to see you again, very soon.”
Jillayne smiled prettily and Sherston quit the tent. When he was gone, she turned to Belladonna.
“He is so handsome,” she gasped, but then realized that Dashiell was still standing in the tent opening. Feeling somewhat foolish, and thinking that she should probably leave, Jillayne rose from the stool and made her way to the tent opening. “Good day to you, my lord.”
Dashiell simply bowed his head to her as she slipped out. Once she was gone, he stepped into the tent and closed the flap.
Now, a heavy silence settled. Was he angry with her? Was he not? Dashiell remained silent as Belladonna stood there, watching his every move. The anticipation of his anger was setting her on edge.
“Well?” she finally said. “If you are going to become angry with me, get on with it.”
He sighed faintly. “I am not angry,” he said. “God knows, I should be. But I find I cannot muster the strength. I am simply glad that you were not injured.”
Belladonna was distressed to realize that he seemed subdued. Beaten, even. She didn’t like that appearance on the man, not in the least.
“I am sorry that I ran onto the field,” she said, “but when I saw my father… and when I saw you fighting with all of those men trying to save him, all I wanted to do was help. I could not sit by idle and watch something terrible happen.”
He simply nodded his head. Then, he saw a pitcher half-full of wine sitting on a small table and he went to it, picking it up and drinking straight from the pitcher. He drank most of it before lowering the pitcher to the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“It was foolish of you,” he said, heading wearily for one of the stools. “You could have been gravely injured, or worse.”
“I know.”
“Do you have any idea the terror I felt when I saw you swinging that club?”
