They trained the entire morning and into the afternoon, a lighter lesson than Radimar normally taught. “I don’t want you tired out by the time you’re up to fight,” he explained to a relieved Sodrin.
Radimar halted the training once to accept a missive stamped with the royal seal from a servant wearing King Rodan’s livery. He broke the seal and read while the servant waited for his reply. His gaze traveled the list, settling on a cluster of soldiers in various states of harness. A few fought in pairs, but most watched one man—the king’s champion—wield his sword against another opponent.
As if the champion felt Radimar’s gaze, he held up a hand to halt the fight and turned, searching for his observer. He nodded once to Radimar before returning to the bout. Radimar handed the missive back to the servant. “Tell His Majesty I am honored and accept.”
Sodrin approached him once the servant left. “Good news?”
That depended on the outcome. Radimar gestured to their gear. “A challenge. I’ll tell you over a meal. We’re done for the day. You can take the time before the exhibition to clear your mind.”
While the previous night had been devoted to the dances that celebrated the coming solstice and paid homage to the gods for a good harvest, this night was devoted to the Exhibition.
Vendor stalls had been dismantled and erected outside the bailey to make room for a large, makeshift arena with seating for the royal family and the nobility. Another area that hugged the arena was reserved for the rest of the population who jostled for space to stand and gain a good view of the fighting.
A temporary billet housed the competitors participating in the different combats that evening. Most concentrated on sword fighting, though there was also wrestling and displays of horsemanship scheduled as well.
Inside the billet, Radimar checked his student’s armor for any defects or flaws such as broken straps or loose scale. Sodrin paced in front of him, pausing at times to practice footwork or map out the sequencing of attack and counterattack. He scraped his palm down the leg of his trousers before switching his grip on the sword to do the same with his other palm.
Radimar tightened a knot in a pauldron strap, testing its give before setting it aside. “You’re letting your nerves get the best of you,” he warned Sodrin.
The other man exhaled a harsh breath. “I can’t help it.” He paused in his pacing, his expression stricken. “What if I lose?”
Radimar shrugged. “Then you lose. We take what you learn from the defeat and use it to train better and harder for next year. This is bouting, Sodrin, not battle. You might come away with a bruised ego, but you’ll survive the fight. Now go sit there, close your eyes, calm your breathing and recite in your mind all the maneuvers I taught you while I go speak to your father.”
Sodrin’s eyes widened. “All the maneuvers?”
“All of them.”
He left Sodrin sitting on a bench, eyes closed, lips moving in soundless recitation of the many actions Radimar had taught him in the past year. While he didn’t tell Sodrin, the exercise was more of a way for him to calm himself, find that center that allowed him to concentrate and not be distracted by the mayhem swirling around him.
Uhlfrida and Jahna sat in a choice spot along the arena’s south side, close enough to get an uninterrupted view of the event but far enough so as not to be splattered by mud from the horses or ending up with a pair of fighters falling through the barriers and into their laps.
Lord Uhlfrida waved Radimar over when he caught sight of him in the crowd. Jahna perched on the edge of her seat and huddled deep within her cloak. There were shadows under her eyes as if she hadn’t slept well the night before.
Uhlfrida gestured to the billet where Sodrin waited. “What do you think? Will he do well for himself today or embarrass us both?”
A disapproving frown darkened Jahna’s features as she stared at her father but held her tongue.
Radimar shared her disapproval. Sodrin had worked hard the past year. Not always the model student but an enthusiastic one. “I have no doubts he’ll do well in the bouting even against the toughest opponent.”
Lord Uhlfrida thrust his hand through his thinning hair. “But will he win?”
That was an outcome Radimar couldn’t and wouldn’t guarantee. “No one can predict that, my lord. It’s why the wager pools exist.”
He silently applauded Jahna when she tried to deflect her father’s focus on Sodrin’s chances at winning his combats. “Are you bouting today as well, Sir Radimar?”
“Not originally, my lady.” His role during the Exhibition was supposed to be as Sodrin’s mentor and support before, during, and after the bouts. The missive he received earlier changed those plans. “A last minute request from His Majesty. The king’s newest champion is eager to cross swords with an Ilinfan swordmaster. We’ll bout after the competitions are over.”
Uhlfrida’s eyes lit up like bonfires. “No doubt that wager pool is lively at the moment.”
“No doubt, my lord.”
Uhlfrida heaved himself out of his chair. “I’ll be right back,” he said before hurrying off to the tables where the bookmakers accepted the bets placed on the combatants.
Jahna shook her head as she watched him leave. “He could never resist a sure bet.”
Despite the tired shadows under her eyes, there was something more animated about her today. She didn’t hide within the depths her cloak and hood for concealment so much as she did for warmth. The notion cheered Radimar. “But who does he wager on?”
One slender eyebrow arched. “You of course.”
He gave a dramatic sigh. “Then I have even more riding on this bout. My pride and reputation, your father’s monies and his children’s respect.”
Jahna giggled. “I don’t think you have anything to fear, sir, especially regarding the third thing. Sodrin and I will remain your faithful admirers and students, even if you’re soundly beaten.”
He gave her a short bow. “That’s a comfort, my lady.”
She reached into the depths of her cloak, creating ripples as she searched for something. “Had I known you’d be fighting, I would have made two favors instead of one.” After more shuffling inside the cloak, she pulled a delicate brooch constructed of a single amethyst surrounded by tiny pearls. Will this do?” She dropped it in his upturned palm. “I give it to you with all my hope for a triumphant outcome.” A blush pinkened one cheek and darkened the violet blemish of the other. “It isn’t much.”
Radimar took a moment to pin it to his quilted tunic near the shoulder. The many eyes of curious onlookers watched the exchange, accompanied by a few whispers. He ignored them, glad to see Jahna did as well. Were they alone, he’d succumb to the desire to stroke her arm, or plant a kiss in her palm. “I’m honored and will wear it proudly, my lady.”