The Captive Maiden

Chapter



11





Valten braced himself as he hit the ground, barely feeling the impact as he focused on keeping a hold on his sword, getting to his feet before Ruexner, and trying to land the first blow. He was unable to see where Ruexner had struck Sieger, but he hoped the blow had been a glancing one, and that the saddle and the fabric of his horse’s caparison had saved him from significant injury.

Ruexner was still struggling, moving slow as he rolled over. Valten got himself to one knee and was pushing himself up with his sword when he was hit in the eyes with stinging sand.

The dirt came through the eye slit in his visor and the air holes in his bevor, choking him and obstructing his vision. He clawed at his helmet with his free hand but it was futile; he couldn’t do anything to wipe the dirt from his eyes. He blinked, and the sand seemed to cut his eyelids.


Forcing his eyes open, he stared through the dust, holding his sword in a defensive position. He could barely see and couldn’t find Ruexner at all. Where had the devil gone? Or was he there in front of him, still trying to get to his feet, and Valten just couldn’t see him through all the grit in his eyes?

This sort of behavior would not win over the crowd. And striking Valten’s horse was a violation of the tournament rules. He couldn’t tell Ruexner that, even if he’d wanted to, because his throat was too clogged with dust.

He fought the urge to close his eyes, ignoring the burning and the tears streaming down his face.

Ruexner roared, then Valten saw him running toward him, his sword high over his head.

Valten stood still, waiting; then, just before Ruexner’s sword landed its blow, Valten lunged to the side, slashing Ruexner under his other arm.

The man must be bleeding from under both arms. But Ruexner spun around and came after Valten again, still roaring his fury, as he struck over and over. Valten parried and landed a few blows that forced Ruexner back. Then Ruexner surprised him and struck at his left side, landing a blow on Valten’s unprotected left hand, as he wore a gauntlet only on his right. Valten ignored the pain, and while Ruexner was stretching for Valten’s left side, Valten used his foot to cut Ruexner’s feet out from under him. As the man fell, Valten’s sword wrapped around his opponent’s blade and sent Ruexner’s weapon flying. It landed in the dirt some thirty feet away.

Valten stood over his foe, his foot on Ruexner’s chest and his sword tip under Ruexner’s chin, pushing his head back.

“Surrender to me! And swear you’ll never challenge me again.” Valten said the last part quietly, for only Ruexner’s ears. He was sick of this man’s grudge. “Or should I dispatch you to your maker?” He deserved it, the dishonorable cur.

“I’ll never surrender to you,” Ruexner ground out between clenched teeth.

Just then, the marshals tried to get between them, declaring that the match was over and Valten was the victor. They urged Valten to back off, but he wasn’t willing to let Ruexner up just yet. He pressed his sword point to Ruexner’s neck, between his helmet and his mail, pricking his skin. How dare he play his dirty tricks — striking Sieger and throwing dirt in Valten’s eyes.

The marshals pulled Valten off Ruexner by force.

As Ruexner slowly got to his feet, one of the marshals stood between them, but Valten could see Ruexner’s bloodshot eyes fixed on him.

“It is finished.” Valten meant to warn the man.

“It is not finished,” Ruexner shot back. “I am not finished with you, Valten. Not until I defeat you. You will surrender to me. I swear it.”

Don’t make me kill you. Valten kept the words to himself. It had been his good fortune to have never caused the death of any of his opponents. But he was at peace with it if he was forced to kill in self-defense.

Ruexner just might be the first.



Gisela’s breath caught at the sight of Valten’s limp left hand and the way he was holding it.

Blood oozed down Ruexner’s sides, showing bright red against his armor. He was hurt too. Good.

The marshals forced Ruexner to walk away from Valten and off the field. The crowd shouted insults and hissed, and the ignoble knight yelled curses and shook his fist at them. The crowds laughed from the safety of the perimeter and shouted back at him.

While Ruexner was leaving, Valten’s squire helped him take off his helmet, and Gisela noticed he didn’t use his left hand. Though his face was sweaty and dirty, he didn’t appear to be seriously hurt. Valten raised his sword at the crowds, facing one side, then the other, while the people cheered wildly and yelled praise and cheers. Gisela forced herself to swallow down her anxiety for him before he faced her side of the lists. He lowered his sword and bowed to her.

Her heart lurched inside her.

He bowed low, going down on one knee, and the crowd went even wilder with their cheers. She acknowledged him with a shaky smile and a slow nod.

As Valten stood, he put his sword hilt to his lips, then opened his arm in a wide gesture to his queen. He stood there until the crowd gradually stopped cheering.

When the people were quiet, he said in a loud voice, “Long life to Queen Gisela, the Queen of Beauty and Love.”

Gisela felt all eyes on her, but she only saw one person. “And to you, Valten, Earl of Hamlin, the bravest and most noble knight of them all.”

“Hear, hear!” the crowd cheered, yelling and stomping and clapping.

He seemed to raise his chin at her in approval. She tried to look demure. All those years as a child when she had dreamed about him, she could not have imagined how it would feel to be here now, the object of his homage and his smile.

Valten walked off the field, and his squire led Sieger away. Gisela was happy to see that his caparison wasn’t even torn and the horse didn’t appear to be injured.

How she longed to go to Valten, to find him as she had the day before. She would love to know how badly his hand was injured, if he had other injuries. But she could hardly wander around unnoticed today. Yesterday she had been nobody. Today she was the Queen of Beauty and Love.

Gisela could hear people discussing whether Valten would come back to fight the rest of his opponents. Was he finished for the day? How many more challengers were waiting to fight him?

“Gisela?”

She turned to Cristyne, who was standing at Gisela’s left side. “Emeludt and I want to walk around. Will you come with us?”

Was she allowed to leave her place while the tournament was still going on? “I think I should stay here.”

“Valten was wonderful, wasn’t he?” Cristyne squeezed Gisela’s arm, her eyes wide.

“Oh yes,” her cousin Emeludt agreed. “He is the bravest knight of all. I hope we will see him fight again.”

Cristyne must have understood Gisela’s lack of excitement, for she said sympathetically, “I don’t think he is seriously injured, but if we find out anything, we will come back and tell you.”

“I would be grateful.”

“He looked very well when he smiled at his queen.” Cristyne winked.

“Yes he did,” Gisela admitted. She clasped her new friend’s hand for a moment before watching Cristyne and her cousin go down the steps of the gallery and disappear into the crowd.

Two more knights came out onto the field to fight, but Gisela felt little interest in it.

Once, when she looked to her right, Evfemia and Irma were looking at her. They waved. Irma punched Contzel, who looked startled, and then she turned toward Gisela and smiled and waved too.

A chill went down Gisela’s spine, but she gave them a stiff wave in return. Why were they pretending they were happy to see her? She was sure it did not bode well. But perhaps they wanted to be nice to her, hoping she would do something for them. Perhaps they would treat her kindly now that she had been singled out by Valten. Maybe they were even sorry for the way they’d treated her in the past.

Such thinking was pure folly.

After watching three more bouts of fighting, Gisela could hardly sit still. In the third one, they took off the defeated knight’s helmet as he lay on the ground. He was unconscious and bleeding from the nose, and he had to be carried off the field on a litter.

Two more knights took the field. Cristyne came into view through the crowd and began climbing the steps toward Gisela.

When Cristyne reached her, she said, “I saw a boy who knows Valten’s squire.” Cristyne paused to catch her breath. “He says the healer told Valten his left hand was broken and he shouldn’t fight any more today.”


Poor Valten. He must be disappointed not to be able to finish the day. She hoped he wasn’t in too much pain.

Cristyne swallowed, still trying to catch her breath. They clasped each other’s hands, and Gisela was thankful for the comfort of her friend’s small fingers.

“But Valten says he will keep fighting.”

“Oh no.” Gisela noticed people leaning toward them, trying to hear. So she leaned closer to Cristyne and lowered her voice. “How many more? What will he do about his hand?”

“He is to fight two more challengers,” Cristyne whispered. “The healer will bind up his hand. He says he only needs that hand to hold the reins.”

Gisela looked into Cristyne’s eyes and pretended her stomach wasn’t churning dangerously at the thought of how painful it would be to hold the reins with a broken hand.

“Don’t worry.” Cristyne squeezed her hand. “He will be all right. He wouldn’t fight if he didn’t think he could win.”

“I’m sure he’ll be all right.” Her voice sounded raspy as she tried to reassure herself. “Thank you, Cristyne. You are a true friend.”

Cristyne smiled in that understanding way of hers, the tiny freckles wrinkling around her nose. “All will be well.” She leaned forward and whispered in Gisela’s ear. “And tomorrow night at the ball, you can see for yourself how well he is.”

Gisela would love to dance with Valten again, but at the moment she only wanted him to be taken care of. If only he could survive these next two encounters without another serious injury.