Valten and his mount leaped forward, and the two opponents charged each other.
Gisela’s heart seemed to stop beating altogether as each knight’s lance crashed into the other’s shield. Ruexner’s weapon shattered and he was thrown backward. He teetered sideways. The crowd seemed to hold their breath until he righted himself.
Valten’s lance held firm, and he sat facing his adversary.
Ruexner roared some unintelligible words from inside his closed helmet. Throughout the tirade, Valten remained still.
Gisela watched Ruexner as he rode back to his place. His squire handed him a new lance, but he shook his head and barked something Gisela didn’t understand. Then he spurred his horse toward the side of the lists where Valten’s shields were hanging and struck Valten’s shield of war so hard it fell to the ground.
When Friedric Ruexner returned to his starting position, Gisela could more clearly see the new lance he was holding. The point was sharp, with a metal tip from which multiple wicked points splayed.
Valten received a similarly tipped lance from his own squire.
The crowd voiced their awe in hushed tones, then waited for the marshal to drop his flag. Gisela leaned forward, her hands clasped together as she held her breath. O God, please help Valten emerge victorious. Don’t let him die.
The flag fell and the two horses sprang forward. Ruexner seemed to be aiming for Valten’s neck, while Valten shifted his lance’s aim at the last second from Ruexner’s shield to his helmet.
Each lance struck the other rider. Ruexner’s glanced off Valten’s helmet, and the duke’s son kept his seat, but Valten’s lance had apparently struck Ruexner’s visor and wedged itself between the air slits. Valten kept hold of the lance, the other end stuck in Ruexner’s visor, and Valten’s surefooted horse moved to follow the foe.
Loud curses could be heard from Friedric Ruexner as he threw down his lance and, with both hands, tried to pull Valten’s lance out of his helmet, but to no avail. His squire and two attendants ran to help him, but they still could not release him. Instead, they ended up taking off his helmet.
Friedric Ruexner’s face was red, his hair and beard wet with perspiration. He cursed Valten in French — at least, she thought he did, as he was using words Gisela had never heard before.
Valten sat mute, holding his lance with Ruexner’s helmet still attached.
They each went back to their end of the field. Ruexner’s attendants placed a new helmet on his head, then gave him a new lance, again with a metal tip. Valten replaced his lance as well.
The two once again faced each other, waiting for the marshal to drop the flag. For their third and final encounter, Gisela could feel the rage emanating from Ruexner. When the flag fell, Ruexner shouted as he spurred his horse toward Valten.
There was a great crash as Valten’s lance struck Ruexner’s helmet and splintered, and Ruexner was knocked off his saddle onto his back. At the same time, Valten’s helmet was knocked off with such force, it hit the ground thirty feet behind him.
Gisela was desperate to see Valten’s face, to see if he’d been injured. But his back was to her as he gazed down at his challenger.
Ruexner jumped to his feet, snarling like a wild animal, and drew his sword. The marshals urged their horses forward but weren’t able to reach the two before Ruexner swung his sword at Valten and missed. Sieger let out a wild scream and reared, his hoofs flailing in Ruexner’s face.
One marshal on horseback placed himself between Valten and Ruexner, while another dismounted and wrenched Ruexner’s sword out of his hand from behind.
Ruexner spun around and yelled something indistinct, then stalked off the field toward his pavilion, leaving his squire and attendants to bring his horse.
The field marshal declared Valten the victor, taking his right hand and lifting it in the air.
As Valten’s squire brought him his helmet, Gisela finally got a glimpse of his face. A bright red line ran across his forehead just over his left eye, from which a trickle of blood dribbled over his eyebrow and down his cheek.
The marshals conversed with Valten for a moment, and then Valten took his place at the end of the lists while his squire helped him put his helmet back on. Another opponent emerged.
Cristyne took her fingernails out of her mouth long enough to ask, “Is he fighting again?”
Gisela swallowed. “I think he must. He has more challengers.”