The Tournament of Henpele - Chapter 4 - Graeme's Tournament

Chapter 4 - Graeme's Tournament

                Graeme ran his hand through his graying hair with a sigh. He had signed up for the jousts immediately after the signups opened, hoping to end up against a bunch of young, eager knights. Unfortunately for him, the matchups had been randomised - and luck had not been with him. The blackboard in front of him indicated that his second joust (assuming he was not surprised in the first round) would be against Sir Arnold of Grapeshire - someone who would most likely prevail over Graeme with ease. Worse still, it would only get harder from there on if he succeeded.

                I suspect I shall be needing to keep myself entertained for a couple of days, he thought. Perhaps the magic competition, or the latter rounds of the jousting.

                Working through the names on the board, he eventually came across one he recognised for reasons beyond skill at arms or fame. Penny's here? Graeme thought, spotting her name - Dame Penny of Down County - listed in the contest. I wonder if I should... Well, if we are both knocked out of the competition, we could meet and catch-up. That would certainly keep me entertained.

                Clad in full armour, Graeme sat atop his charger. The charger (nameless - Graeme never named his horses, as he felt becoming too familiar with one would only result in feelings of loss) had been an expensive horse once, but age had slowed him down significantly. He was also rarely practiced: he was the only horse Graeme owned and was never used it for mounted combat - only for carrying gear and for jousts. Still, he would be able to carry Graeme for a long time yet.

                Tightening his grip on his lance, Graeme sized up his opponent. At the far end of the list, facing him, was a knight Graeme had never heard of before, Dame Jacqueline of Secondmoor. She had a sturdy build and gripped the lance with obvious skill; however her horse was no charger - it was just an ordinary packhorse, not even a proper warhorse.

                This should prove easy, thought Graeme as he careful examined Jacqueline's balance in her saddle. She's not very steady and my charger will probably scare her horse half to death as he thunders down the list, thought Graeme, grinning beneath his helmet. He wheeled his horse around into position at his end of the list, and waited for the horn that would signal him to begin his charge.

                The horn came moments later. Graeme spurred his mount and lowered his lance; beginning a charge along the list. His opponent did the same, and their mounts closed the distance between them rapidly. Graeme leveled his lance, aiming squarely at the centre of his opponent's shield. His opponent did the same, aiming for Graeme's armour.

                They drew closer and closer together, horses pounding the ground beneath them, sending dust and clumps of earth flying. At the last moment, Graeme pushed aside his opponent's lance with a well-timed twist - and managed to aim at her armour just in time for his lance to slam into her. With a loud crack Graeme's lance shattered against his opponent's armour. She groaned loudly as she was pushed back in her saddle, but she managed to remain seated.

                Graeme's horse slowed as it neared the opposite end of the list. Graeme tossed aside his broken lance, and plucked a new one from the hands of the waiting tournament helper. At the far end of the list, Graeme saw his opponent rebalancing her lance as she too prepared for the next joust. She appeared a little unsteady in her saddle - the solid hit Graeme had landed upon her had left her at least somewhat dazed.

                Setting his lance in position, Graeme positioned his steed in preparation. Hearing his opponent shout a distant 'Hyah!' Graeme spurred his horse into action. Once again, Graeme hurtled along the list, quickly nearing Jacqueline. He locked his lance, aiming for the centre of her shield. As they met at the centre of the list, Jacqueline's lance slammed into Graeme's shield an instant before his slammed into hers. Both shattered, sending shards of wood flying everywhere.

                Pain from the shock made Graeme wince, his eyes closing as his steed continued charging forward. He managed to remain in the saddle, and he reined his horse in. Peering through his helm, Graeme saw that Jacqueline had been knocked off his horse when his lance struck her.

                Victory, Graeme thought. Nursing his arm, he allowed his horse to canter to the end of the list before he dismounted. He stretched out his arm as he waited for the judges to confirm his victory.

                "Victory to Sir Graeme!" called out one of the judges.

                As Graeme led his steed away, an official came up to him. "Congratulations, sir," he said.

                "Thank you," replied Graeme.

                "Your next joust will be against Sir Arnold, after the first round is complete. This will likely be in the early afternoon," said the official.

                "Thank you again," replied Graeme. The official gave him a curt nod, and left. Graeme grabbed his horse's reins, and wandered off to spend some time browsing the market that had sprung up around the tournament.

                While wandering the stalls, Graeme browsed the display of a jeweler. One of the pieces - a gold ring with three small pieces of jade set in it - reminded him of a ring he had bought as a gift to Dame Penny, eleven years ago. Nostalgia sent his thoughts wandering to the relationship they had had back then.

                It had begun when he had fought with her against a beast that had been plaguing Down County for years. It had claimed the lives of many brave knights - possibly more than one hundred - and it was not thought that any ordinary knight would manage to slay the creature. Yet no exceptional knight had come - the greatest heroes of the realm had been busy in other duchies; and none called Norduchy home.

                Penny and Graeme, along with several others, had challenged the beast in the ravaged plain it called home. Fifty years ago it had been a fertile plain, used to raise many heads of cattle. But the creature had devoured them all, and torn up the ground of the plain until nothing green was left. It left only pits and dust behind.

                On this battleground skill - and a little luck - had prevailed. Taking advantage of the soft earth the beast had clawed from the ground, Sir Lucas the Wise (a well-renowned knight in Norduchy until his recent death from old age) had laid a trap for it. Upon being lured onto a particular hill the beast found that the very earth beneath it began to move. It tumbled down the hill into a pit of spikes - some of which pierced it right through.

                Still, the beast was not dead. Despite its injuries it fought and held off a group of fifteen knights for several hours before it finally died. Penny and Graeme were amongst the survivors; six knights in total fell to the beasts claws that day. In the fight against the wounded creature Penny and Graeme had saved each other’s' lives more than once, which led to them deciding to work together.

                Soon their luck in protecting one another in battle became well known throughout Norduchy. In every risky fight one would come under threat only to be saved at the last moment by the other. This made them quickly grow close - although even beyond their many rescues they got along very well.

                Eventually Graeme had begun courting Penny, and resolved to stay in Down County with her (only handling troubles there or in the neighbouring counties). Their courtship had gone well as the pair were a good match - their views on knighthood only differed insofar as Graeme preferred to wander, and Penny remained within Norduchy (even only occasionally leaving Down County).

                Graeme's desire to continue his line (eventually - likely after he retired) had been the reason their relationship ended. Penny had heard of his desire nine months into their relationship. She did not desire to have children, mostly as doing so would see her stuck on the sidelines for part of her pregnancy; if not longer. But she had been indecisive - she had been strongly in love with Graeme, and he with her.

                Several months later Penny had made her decision. She ended their relationship, and Graeme - saddened but understanding - had returned to wandering the Duchies. They had met several times since (when Graeme had wandered through Down County) and remained friendly, although their last meeting had been more than three years ago.

                I wonder if she's ready to settle down yet, thought Graeme. Probably not. I will try to find her tomorrow. Hm. Perhaps she already has settled down?

                Giving the ring one last look, Graeme continued on to the next stall.

                It was about mid-afternoon when Graeme once again sat upon his charger, facing down an opponent at the other end of the lists. He had returned in a timely fashion - nothing amongst the stalls having interested him - but the jousts had taken slightly longer than expected, and due to some rearrangements (due to injuries) his joust was pushed back a little.

                At the far end of the list, Sir Arnold sat upon his warhorse. It was a mighty stallion, bred to serve in mounted combat of all kinds. It had likely cost Arnold a fortune, but he had the money - he was master of arms for a rich baron in the east of Down County. The baron equipped Arnold well, and had the skilled knight defeat the champions of neighbouring baronies. Arnold's baron was also notorious for goading his neighbours into foolish bets on the outcome.

                This is going to be tough, thought Graeme, lowering his helm into place. Arnold was a small, solidly built man with exceptional balance on horseback. Even if Graeme managed to strike him successfully - which was fairly likely, as Graeme did have an edge in skill - Arnold would take many hits before being knocked off. Only a lucky strike would end the contest early - something Graeme would almost have to rely upon.

                At the sound of the starting whistle, Graeme spurred his mount into a charge. He thundered forwards, he lowered and positioned his lance - aiming slightly to the left of Sir Arnold. Graeme saw that Arnold had set his aim directly at the centre of Graeme's shield. Perfect, Graeme thought.

                As they neared the centre of the list, Graeme gently nudged his charger's flank. The charger immediately took half a step to the right mid-charge, altering the aim required for both jousters significantly. It was a cunning little trick Graeme usually saved for later rounds - but he made exceptions for skilled opponents. Already aimed in preparation of the sudden change, Graeme's lance slammed into Arnold's shield right in the centre. Unprepared for the sudden movement, Arnold's lance glanced of the edge of Graeme's shield harmlessly.

                When he reached the far end of the list, Graeme checked how Sir Arnold had fared. He seemed completely unphased despite the direct hit. Of course, thought Graeme to himself resignedly. He swapped the broken shards of his lance for a fresh one, and allowed his horse to trot gently into position for the next charge.

                "A clever move, Sir Graeme!" called out Arnold from the opposite end of the list. "But you'll not fool me again!"

                "I do not expect to, Sir Arnold!" replied Graeme.

                Upon hearing Graeme's reply, Sir Arnold kicked his mount into motion. Graeme reciprocated, and the two riders rapidly began to draw together. Graeme steeled himself for the inevitable blow that would come from Sir Arnold's lance. When it came, it nearly knocked him clean from the saddle -  an excellent hit that pressed his shield straight back against him with the full force of the charging warhorse.

                Graeme's blow upon Sir Arnold was almost as good; but after Graeme had picked up his third lance he saw that Arnold seemed once again almost completely unaffected by the hit. Graeme cursed under his breath as he readied himself for the third joust. Luck is not with me today, he thought.

                Lance once again at the ready, Graeme spurred his mount into the third charge. Graeme saw Arnold doing the same. Briefly he considered attempting his trick again, but he decided against it. Right after their lances slammed onto each other's shields, Graeme knew it was over. Graeme's snapped in half immediately - but Arnold's stayed strong, barely splintering as Graeme was pushed up and out of his saddle by the blow.

                Graeme toppled from the back of his horse and slammed into the ground. With a grunt he rolled over onto his back and waited. Sir Arnold appeared overhead a few moments later, offering his hand to Graeme. "Good joust!" he said as Graeme took the offered hand.

                With a pull Arnold hauled Graeme to his feet. "Good joust," said Graeme. In the distance, he spotted the lance Arnold had used to unseat him. It had not broken even after lifting Graeme, armour and all, from the saddle. Graeme felt very lucky to have taken the blow to his shield, rather than his armour.

                "You'd probably have had me with that last hit, had your lance not snapped. And mine - you can see it over there - mine was amazingly solid. Quite the surprise!" said Arnold, beaming. He had removed his helmet and his shoulder length black hair to dangled freely.

                "Indeed," replied Graeme. He groaned softly before continuing, "But luck alone was not responsible for your victory."

                "Thank you. Not all knights would be so gracious in defeat - especially not one like that. I suppose I should go find an official so I will know the timing of my next round. Perhaps I will see you at the feast tomorrow?"

                "Perhaps."

                "Regardless, enjoy the rest of the tournament!" Arnold finished. He headed off, calling out for an official.

                Graeme stretched his back, and then retrieved his horse from just beyond the end of the list, where it had wandered. Time to go mope in the inn all evening, he thought to himself. Or perhaps I'll watch a joust or two first.

                Having discovered that Penny would be jousting shortly, Graeme had decided to watch her. He sat high in the benches, wearing his chain mail and a few pieces of plate - the amount of armour he wore when not expecting combat. His sword was sheathed at his waist, although his shield had been left with the rest of his armour in the inn room the group had rented.

                "Aren't you uncomfortable, sir?" asked the man sitting next to him. He seemed to be an ordinary villager - probably someone from a nearby town who had come to watch the tournament. He was dressed in a simple light green tunic above dark blue trousers, and had short-cut black brown hair.

                "No. I feel more uncomfortable without any armour on," replied Graeme. "I have a question for you - why are most, well, non-knights referring to us knights with 'sir' always? It seems overly polite. And different from the last time I was here."

                The villager smiled and chuckled a little. "The count - a very good man - sent out messengers before the tournament announcing it. They all requested that, for the honour of the count, all knights be addressed politely," he replied, pausing a little before adding 'Sir' with a grin.

                Graeme let out a hearty guffaw and slapped his knee. "I see," he said, between chuckles. "I am Sir Graeme, a wandering knight."

                "Samuel the tanner of Poplar Crest - it's a town a ways to the south-west, near the edge of the County," replied the villager.

                "Quiet village?"

                "Yes."

                "That explains why I've never heard of it." Graeme and Samuel chuckled.

                "Aha, it looks as if the joust is about to begin," said Samuel, pointing at an official standing near the list. As if on queue, the woman raised her whistle to her lips and blew it to signal the beginning of the joust.

                Both Penny and her opponent - Sir Elan of Upmarsh - spurred their mounts into action immediately. Watching jousts was more interesting to Graeme than competing, though admittedly also less exciting. The side view of the list gave him a full view of both mounts and their riders. Graeme's many years of experience allowed him to figure out a lot from the better view (as did the lack of any need to spend time and thought actually jousting).

                To Graeme's eyes, it seemed a reasonably close match. Penny had never been exceptional at the joust, and her horse was neither charger nor warhorse. Her opponent was younger (Graeme guessed the man was in his mid-twenties) and also rode an ordinary horse; but he seemed to have some skill with his lance. Yet both have managed to get to the second round, whereas I - curse my luck - have not, Graeme thought to himself.

                They met at the centre of the list moments later. Sir Elan's lance was off-target, sliding off of Penny's shield without budging Penny in the slightest. For her part, Penny landed a direct hit on Elan's shield, her lance splintering into a mess of shards. But somehow Sir Elan was barely move in his saddle by the impact.

                Graeme stared as Sir Elan continued up the list. He's completely unaffected! No jouster I've ever met could take a blow like that and just ignore it, Graeme thought, befuddled. What on earth just happened?

                "That was quite the hit!" said Samuel, "I'm surprised Sir Elan didn't get knocked right off after that one."

                "Have you seen him joust before?" asked Graeme.

                "Actually, yes," replied Samuel, "He competed in the Marsh Tournament joust a couple of years back. My village is quite close to where the Marshes start, and the tournament itself is held just inside Down County instead of in the Pennant Marshes, it was very close to my village. So I visited and ran watched the joust. I saw Sir Elan take a hit much less accurate than that and he was knocked off easily in the first charge! But I suppose he has had two years to train since."

                "How interesting," replied Graeme. "Dame Penny seems to have improved since I saw her joust last as well, although that was many years ago."

                "Oh, you've seen her joust? How - ah, the next charge," Samuel said, interrupting himself as the two jousters began their next charge.

                Graeme kept his eyes on Sir Elan like a hawk. Nothing seemed unusual about his armour, lance, saddle, mount - nothing was out of the ordinary at all. But that did nothing to allay Graeme's suspicions. Either some complex and clever rig, or magic of some kind, he thought.

                At the centre of the list Penny's lance once again slammed directly into her opponent's shield. The lance bent, barely splintering, for half a second before it snapped in half; yet despite the incredible force Elan was again barely moved. His lance landed near the edge of Penny's shield, pushing her back slightly. A quick glance at Penny let Graeme spot something damning - she had been pushed mostly out of her saddle on her lance side. She had almost been dismounted by her own lance! A strong lance and a solid hit - there's something wrong here, thought Graeme.

                "Amazing! Sir Elan's truly mastered remaining in the saddle!" said Samuel.

                "He surely has," said Graeme, unable to keep disapproval from his voice.

                "Were you hoping for Dame Penny's victory?" asked Samuel.

                "Yes, I was," replied Graeme with a short smile, "She may win yet!"

                "You could be right! Comebacks are very exciting. And here they go again!" said Samuel.

                Graeme kept his eyes on Elan. He saw Penny finally take a solid strike from Elan, and also that Penny landed another good hit on Elan. Yet Elan barely moved in the saddle - and in the corner of his eye he saw Penny topple from her mount. It's got to be something to do with the armour, Graeme thought. His attention wandered back to Penny for a moment, but something Elan did caught his eye. His bracer? What was he fiddling with?

                Samuel - who had gotten up, like most of the bench, to cheer for Sir Elan - sat back down beside Graeme. "Amazing joust. I could've sworn Elan had glued himself to his saddle, but he got off his horse easily enough," said Samuel excitedly.

                "He did indeed. I'll be off now - I have to meet my squire at the inn we're staying at shortly," replied Graeme.

                "Well, good day then," said Samuel, waving as Graeme left.

                Graeme raised his hand in return as he took his leave. As he trudged slowly towards the inn his thoughts raced back and forth. In the end, he resolved to investigate Sir Elan - and if he was cheating, to have him removed from the tournament.

                The Boisterous Crab was crowded that evening - courtesy of the tournament. Graeme, Sparrow and Annette squeezed themselves around a small counter in one corner (a spot intended for a single patron, not three).

                "Quite crowded this evening!" said Graeme, arms tightly tucked against his sides.

                As he began to carve up his meal, Sparrow said, "You wouldn't believe the number of dirty looks my wings have gotten." She ehemed, and continued loudly, "I CAN'T HELP IT, I NEED THEM TO FLY."

                Annette chuckled at the looks the group got (and especially at those who had been staring and turned away). "Tomorrow'll be interesting - there's supposed to be a feast with pretty much all the competitors, visitors... In that tiny pavilion they have setup. The crowd here would fill it, let alone everyone else!" she said, speaking up to be heard over the crowd.

                "Maybe they think I'll fly around inside above everyone's heads?" Sparrow asked. Annette looked quizzical, so Sparrow continued with, "It wouldn't surprise me, I've heard dumber ideas. I was once asked if I could fly a knight - man, armour and mount - over a castle wall. I told him I'd give it a try, so I hopped on the horse, grabbed him around the waist, and managed to lift him half a metre off his horse before I dropped him. He wasn't impressed!"

                Graeme and Annette chuckled, and conversation turned to Graeme's defeat, Sparrow's victory, and Annette's chances tomorrow. Graeme kept his suspicions about Sir Elan to himself, and even put it to the back of his mind. It helped him enjoy the evening immensely.

                The morning came too early for Graeme's liking. It was usual for him, these days. Knights rise at dawn. One day I'll track down where that bloody saying came from and make a new one for them to say instead, he thought grumpily.

                A short time - and two women woken - later Graeme had armoured himself and made his way to the stand overlooking one of the lists. He took a seat right at the front, and waited for Sir Elan's joust. Two other jousts came first, but they passed without anything unusual occurring.

                The time came for Sir Elan's joust. Graeme completely ignored Elan's opponent (in truth, he even forgot the man's name in his focus). He only had eyes for Elan. And shortly after Elan had mounted his horse, Graeme was rewarded. He saw Elan give his left bracer a swift twist and pull as he settled into the saddle, shortly before he picked up his lance.

                The joust itself was a repeat of the previous day, although Elan's opponent was less skilled than Penny had been. Graeme was unsure if he'd have noticed Elan's complete lack of movement whenever he took a strike in such a joust - it was only his interest in Penny that had made him watch that match so closely. However he's doing it, this is quite despicable, Graeme thought.

                At the end of the joust, Graeme spotted Elan performing a reverse of the action - a push and a twist in the other direction - before hopping down from his mount. Gotcha, Graeme thought. But it wasn't quite enough. He knew the list Elan's next joust would be held at, and so he made his way there, and waited. A couple of hours later, Graeme watched the exact same joust again - Elan barely moved when struck, and fiddling with his bracer before and after.

                That was enough for Graeme to be sure. After the joust finished - and Sir Elan and left the list - Graeme approached an official and detailed his suspicions.

                "You're not the only one who has brought their suspicions to us - although you have more details than the others, which is useful. Come to the small field in the evening; we - well, we suspect there's more than one cheater and we're trying to catch them all at once, sir," the official said in reply to Graeme's story.

                "Alright," said Graeme, nodding respectfully. He had lunch, and a bit of wandering and idle joust watching later he made his way to the field - meeting Sparrow and Annette on the way.