The longer they fought, the more the crowd yelled encouragement to the combatants. Sir John unleashed a flurry of fast thrusts and strikes, forcing Valten to make Sieger sidestep away, but the black knight kept striking, faster and faster, until Valten was hard-pressed to parry his blows. He had Valten’s sword pinned against his breastplate.
Gisela could hear them talking to each other as they were locked in this position, but she could not make out the words. “Please help him, God,” Gisela whispered, not caring if anyone heard her or saw her concern. She pressed her clasped hands against her chin and prayed, never taking her eyes off Valten, trying not even to blink.
Valten pushed, moving Sir John off of him until they were in the opposite position, with Valten’s sword holding his opponent’s sword down on his chest, and Valten leaning his weight against the black and gold knight.
Sir John began to slide backward off his saddle, and he wrapped his free hand around Valten’s neck. The black knight fell on his back and took Valten with him, with Valten falling on top of him.
They both struggled to get up. Then Valten pushed himself onto his feet. He fought the black and gold knight with his left hand out to his side, while the black knight was on his back, fighting with both hands on his sword hilt. But he was at a great disadvantage lying on his back, and soon Valten sent his sword flying beyond his reach. Sir John was defeated, and he surrendered.
The crowd cheered like hysterical children, throwing their arms around each other and jumping up and down. Gisela’s arms went limp with exhaustion and relief. He did it! She pressed her lips together so no one would see them tremble.
Cristyne was jumping up and down and screaming. First she hugged her cousin, then she turned to Gisela and squealed, raising her hands over her head.
Gisela embraced her new friend, but she didn’t think a queen was supposed to jump up and down. Besides, she wasn’t sure her legs would hold her.
When Valten reached his tent, Frau Lena, the healer, was waiting for him. The pain in his hand was so bad, his head was spinning. He thanked God he’d made it through the last battle without disgracing himself by fainting.
A tub of water had been brought into his tent, and the entrance was secured behind him. He allowed the attendants and his squire to take off his armor and undress him and help him into the tub. Frau Lena gave him some herbal drink. He didn’t ask her what it was; he didn’t care. He drank it all, then relaxed in the warm water. He began drifting away. But pain brought him fully awake again. Someone was unwrapping his bandage. He opened his eyes enough to see Frau Lena leaning over him.
“Just rest,” she said. “I need to make sure the swelling isn’t getting worse and making the binding too tight.”
His hand throbbed. He knew she was trying to be careful, but every movement, no matter how slight, sent sharp pains shooting through his hand.
“I shall bind it with a splint I made from pieces of wood.”
He wanted to tell her he didn’t care, just hurry and finish, but he was so weary he decided not to talk. He tried to think about how good the water felt. A servant was bathing his face, and he kept his eyes closed, imagining it was Gisela’s gentle, soft hands bathing his face.
If only he could fall asleep and remain so until he awoke in his bed tomorrow. His hand would feel better by then. And he could bask in his victory—of this, his last tournament.
Though she stayed for the rest of the tournament battles, Gisela didn’t pay attention to who defeated whom. She was thinking of Valten, wondering when she would see him again. Of course, she was invited to the ball, but that wasn’t until tomorrow evening. Would she be able to spend the night with Margaretha again? She didn’t dare go home. Perhaps Ava would let her sleep in one of her spare rooms. It was at least an hour’s walk away, which Gisela could easily do, but in this dress? And alone?
Perhaps she could stay with Cristyne. Gisela had almost made up her mind to ask her when Margaretha started up the steps toward her.
“Did you see Valten win?” Margaretha squealed.
“He was magnificent,” Gisela gushed, almost laughing with joy. He must be well if his sister was smiling.
“He will be tired and hurting, but happy because he won.”
“Have you seen him?”
“No, but I’m sure he is well. It is only a broken bone in his hand. He has had worse. Nothing to worry about. He will be quite ready to see you tomorrow, you can be sure.” Margaretha grinned.
The tournament ended and Duke Wilhelm stood and proclaimed Valten the victor of the second day’s battles as well. The crowd cheered, but not quite as enthusiastically as before, as Valten did not come out on the field to take his victory ride around the lists. Duke Wilhelm spoke a blessing over the crowd and bid them a good night, as it was late and soon would be dark.