can muster. Get equipped with a horse and armor. Go to the tournament and-”
“He will be captured!” cried Sophia.
“Not if I ride nameless under Sir Olin’s pennon,” said Theodore thoughtfully. “Once the jousting has begun, the rules of chivalry demand that all comers may compete without fear of seizure.”
“The rules,” said Sophia in dismay. “Sir Magnin does not follow the rules.”
“Alas, that is true.”
Thank you, Leon, thought Noel in exasperation. He said, “Yes, that’s a good point and something to keep in mind. But with everyone in the province there watching, do you think he’d dare try anything?”
“Yes,” said Sophia.
“No,” said Theodore.
The two lovers glared at each other.
“You must not fight him-” began Sophia.
“It would be an ideal solution,” said Theodore. “The leaders of the province will be assembled. I shall ride in and make public challenge to Sir Magnin. He cannot refuse-”
“He will kill you!”
Theodore’s expression grew chilly. “My lady’s confidence in my prowess overwhelms me.”
“I do not doubt you, my darling!” she cried, clinging to his arm. “But Magnin the Black is champion of the province.”
Theodore merely shrugged. “It is settled. I shall challenge him, one to one. The outcome will decide who governs Mistra and”-a muscle flexed in his jaw-“who weds Lady Sophia.”
Noel raised his brows. “Strong terms.”
“Do you see a better way to tempt him into fighting?”
“No, but make sure you win.”
Theodore grinned, but Sophia struck him in the chest without warning, making him flinch. He frowned at her. “What was that for?”
She was tight-lipped and fuming. “So I am to be the prize, awarded to the victor like a piece of chattel-”
“That’s what you are, mademoiselle!” said Theodore sharply. “When your father died, the stipulations of his will made me your legal guardian. Our betrothal gives me further rights to dispense your future and your dowry as I see fit.”
“And I am to have no say-”
“No say whatever.”
She glared at him, spots of color burning in her cheeks. “Then our vows, our love are as nothing. You are not my champion, but my keeper. I wonder you bothered to woo me at all.”
“And I wonder why you do not bother to look beyond your own selfish concerns to the larger picture,” Theodore retorted. “Mistra is the capital of the largest, and richest, province in Greece. There’s more at stake here than just-”
“You talk of politics and I talk of love,” she broke in heatedly. “I see I mistook the former for the latter. I see I have been a foolish child.”
“No, but you are certainly acting like one now.” Theodore gripped her by the arms. “You are willfully misunderstanding me. Try, Sophia, to see your future if I am defeated. As a prize, your future is protected. Otherwise, he can rob you of your lands, imprison you in a tower, and leave you to rot out your years alone-”
“Unhand me! I will not discuss it further.”
He released her, and she stumbled back. When she turned from him and headed down the gully, Theodore went after her. He caught her from behind and spun her around. “It is only for your own protection, Sophia,” he began. “You are-”
“No!” She swung at him, sobbing, but Theodore restrained her easily. With his arm around her, he glanced back at Noel and gestured for him to follow. Sophia wrenched away and walked on alone.
Aghast at the harsh one-sidedness of conjugal laws and rights, Noel joined the prince and shook his head glumly. “I thought you had more tact than that,” he muttered.
“The lady is mortal spoiled,” said Theodore coolly. “Sixteen and not married, that is what ails her. Worse, her father gave her too much independence. She expects to speak up and be listened to the same as a man.”
“Why shouldn’t she?”
Theodore scowled. “When I was a stripling and had not yet earned my spurs, I remember my sister being wed and bedded on her thirteenth birthday.”
“That’s too young where I come from.”
“Verily? Let them go longer, my father used to say, and they are hard to train into an agreeable wife.” Theodore sighed and plucked a leaf off a tree. “God’s wounds, but I have been patient beyond what any man should have to endure. Her father bade me wait a year when I first sought her hand, and the emperor bade me wait another while I attended his court. And now see what we have come to. Were she my wife, the law would protect her as my widow. But as an heiress, she is so vulnerable-”
“I think she loves you a lot,” said Noel carefully.
Theodore looked ahead at Sophia’s stiff back, and his gaze softened.
“I think she’s angry because she’s scared.”
Theodore did not reply. As they walked down the road to Sir Olin’s castle, Noel watched Sophia wipe her tears dry. Her face grew set and cold and about ten years older.
“Aren’t you going to talk to her?” asked Noel in concern. “You know, end this quarrel?”
“To what purpose?” asked Theodore haughtily, his eyebrows raised. “She is a spoiled child, who wants only the moonlight and none of the reality. I shall not change my stance on this matter.”
Noel whistled silently. “Hell hath no fury like a woman dumped,” he muttered.
“What say you?” asked Theodore.
“Nothing.”
“Why do you talk to yourself so much? I fear for your reason at times.”
“I said it’s nothing. Forget it.”
Theodore stared at him. “I know this look upon your face. You are troubled. Do you believe she will overset our plans? Fear not. She will recover her temper soon. Besides, what harm can she do?”
Noel frowned. He wasn’t sure, but Sophia was not the sort of girl to sit by tamely with her hands folded.
“You’d better win,” was all Noel said, however. “You’d better win.”
Theodore smiled, his blue eyes serene with confidence. “Doubt me not. I shall not lose her to Magnin, for all my practical talk. He may be champion of the province, but I won three jousts at the emperor’s court last year. Now tell me, Noel. Will you wager on a provincial baron or on a prince?”
Reluctantly Noel returned his smile, not wanting to jinx the outcome by getting cocky too early. “My wager is already laid,” he said.
Theodore laughed. “So it is.”
CHAPTER 13
Mistra made merry with fairgoers and revelry the night before the tournament. Red and white pennons fluttered over the steep, narrow streets. Faces peered down from garden walls, pointing and calling out at the processionals winding past with Sir Magnin’s effigy atop a cart festooned with flowers and richly embroidered cloths. A varlet in livery beat upon a huge drum, and people streamed into the church where the competing knights had left their helmets on display. Ladies laughingly pointed out the helmets of those who had offended them in the past year, and those knights were struck from competition until they had righted the wrong. Comfits and sweetmeats were offered for sale at every corner. Peddlers sold strings of amber beads to blushing maidens hanging upon the arms of their stalwart swains.
Sir Magnin had opened his purse in lavish offerings of food and entertainment to win the townspeople to his side. Great feasting tables groaning with generosity filled the town square, and upon a crudely built stage a company of mummers performed busily to the delight of the crowd.
