He looked straight out at the combatants, not at her. “If you do it, Sir Hugo will never forgive you. Allow him to be the knight he is.”
“He will be killed,” she hissed.
“It is the best way for a knight to die. Fighting, and with honor.”
She stared at him, hearing the words spoken and unspoken. Her gaze swung to her father. Was that the real reason for this? Because it was an honorable way to die? The eventual alternative would not be.
She settled back on the seat. She composed herself, so she would look like the lady she had been born to be. Inside her body, however, her heart pounded, and her grief waited.
CHAPTER TEN
Zander eyed Sir Hugo. If not for Harold, he would not have prepared his own horse. The squire had run into their camp an hour ago to say Hugo might have found a mount after all.
Now they faced each other, lances balanced against their bodies, while the crowd waited.
He glanced to the stand. Elinor sat beside Lord Yves. She gazed at neither her father nor him, but to the middle of the field, her face calm but her eyes glistening. She was wearing the crimson veil and the silver circlet.
A marshal announced the reason for the challenge, then backed off the field. Hugo lifted his lance. Zander cursed the pride that had brought them here and kicked his destrier.
Hooves pounded. Dirt flew. The point of Hugo’s lance charged forward, growing larger by the instant. Zander aimed his own for Hugo’s left shoulder and guided his horse with a firm hand.
His lance connected with a thud heard clearly above the shouting. He turned his horse at the end of the list and saw that Hugo was unbalanced but still astride.
They faced each other again. A clear dent showed on Hugo’s shoulder plate, above the arm that held his shield. Zander looked to the stand and saw Elinor leaning forward, assessing her father.
Lances were clumsy and imprecise. If they kept at this he might well kill Hugo while trying to avoid it.
They charged again, lances in position. Zander could tell that Hugo’s lance did not hold steady and his shield’s position had lowered. He aimed for the same spot on the left shoulder and connected just as Hugo’s lance barely missed his own horse. This time Hugo’s upper body swayed back and forth. As his horse slowed, he slid onto the ground.
Zander rode to the end of the list and dismounted.
“That was fast,” Angus said, taking the reins. Around them, the crowd shouted and jeered, demanding he finish it. Then suddenly the noise changed to a different kind of excitement.
Zander looked over his shoulder. Hugo had risen to his feet, and advanced on the field, sword in hand. He favored one leg. The blows had not affected his sword arm, but his shield was low on the other. He stopped right in front of the stand, waiting for Zander.
Zander muttered a curse, and strode forward, unsheathing his sword. They engaged in a clash of steel. Zander realized that he could bring Hugo down in a minute if he chose to. Instead, he parried and sparred, to push Hugo back so the end did not come right in front of Elinor. As Hugo grew tired, his shield served him less well, and he limped harder on his bad leg.
Finally, Zander slashed down on the shield, and it fell to the ground. He swung his sword at the other arm, and Hugo’s blade flew away. He brought the flat of his sword hard against Hugo’s leg, and Hugo dropped to his knees.
The crowd hushed. Hugo knelt there a minute, then reached up and removed his helmet to make the coup de grâce easier.
Zander removed his own helmet and threw it aside. The crowd began calling for the end.
“Look at me, Sir Hugo.”
Hugo’s chin rose and he faced Zander stoically.
“Forfeit,” Zander said. “Stand down. Retract your accusations.”
Hugo’s gaze shifted to the crowd. “I can’t. Everyone will say—”
“You will be alive, your daughter will not mourn, and I will not have to kill an old friend.”
Hugo seemed to contemplate it but shook his head.
“Do you remember that day? Clearly?” Zander demanded in a fierce whisper.
“Some.”
“Not enough to call me a coward, I’ll warrant.”
“A few details have come to me recently.” He looked up with a pained expression. “I may have gotten that wrong.”
“You left us and went back to collect spoils. You are guilty of pride and greed, but you were not in your right head, I think. And I’ll not be your executioner due to either sin.”
Again Hugo glanced askance at the impatient crowd. “I don’t think you have a choice.”
“There is always a choice.” Zander lifted his sword. “I now make mine.”
Elinor could not see her father well. Zander’s body blocked him. She knew he was on his knees. She could hear the crowd screaming like animals for his blood.
Then Zander lifted his sword high, both hands on its hilt. He brought it down with all his strength. Her heart turned to stone, then rose to choke her of breath. The other women in the stand gasped. Silence claimed the crowd as a wave of calm eddied from the combatants toward the stand.
The worst grief burst in her. Through filmy eyes, she watched Zander bend over. Then he backed up, and her father stood, using Zander’s hand for help.
She cried all the harder. The two men spoke a moment, then walked toward the stand, with Zander supporting her father, who was limping badly now. They positioned themselves in front of Lord Yves.
Zander looked their host right in the eyes. “We both forfeit.”
Lord Yves stared back at him. “You can’t do that. A challenge to the death only ends when someone is dead.”
“We also both stand down.”
“It isn’t done that way. Sir Alexander,
