It was odd, Alan mused, how one always felt compelled to look at Hugh to gauge his reaction to whatever was happening.
Of course, Richard had the same kind of ability to command attention, Alan thought with immediate loyalty. But Richard was so physically magnificent that one expected him to have a dominating presence. Next to Richard, Hugh looked like a boy. Yet he had this magnetic quality about him.
“Did you hear that Lord Guy left Lincoln early this morning?” Gervase said to Hugh.
“Aye.” The fire flamed up behind Hugh’s head. His hair was purely black, Alan noticed. There was no brown in it at all.
“Do you know where he was going?” Gervase asked.
Hugh quirked an ironic eyebrow. “He didn’t confide his plans to me. However, it doesn’t take a great deal of imagination to surmise that he is going to meet the king. I doubt that Guy has given up hope on either the de Beauté marriage or the earldom.”
Alan thought he sounded supremely indifferent to this enticing prospect.
Richard spoke for the first time. “What if Guy is successful and wins both of those things from Stephen? Will you take the earldom?”
“I’d take the earldom if I didn’t have to take the girl,” Hugh replied instantly. “As it is, I already know who I am going to marry, and it is not Elizabeth de Beauté.”
Alan remembered the scene he had eavesdropped upon, and blurted out before he could stop himself, “Is it Lady Cristen?”
Hugh shot him a quick smile. “Aye. It is Lady Cristen.”
Unexpectedly warmed by that friendly look, Alan met Hugh’s eyes. “She is nice,” he said a little shyly.
Hugh regarded him with approval. “Aye. She is very nice.”
A flood of pleasure rushed through Alan.
Hugh looked at Richard. “Did you know that John Rye was in Lincoln?” he asked.
Richard gave him a thoughtful look. “I believe I might have glimpsed him in the castle courtyard this morning. Why do you ask?”
Hugh shrugged.
Richard regarded him steadily.
Alan frowned, opened his mouth to say something, changed his mind, and closed it again.
“Why should Richard care whether or not John Rye is in town?” Gervase asked Hugh gruffly.
“No reason,” Hugh responded lightly.
Gervase looked puzzled.
Richard continued to look thoughtful.
Hugh looked bland.
Alan’s worried frown deepened.
Then Hugh said, “Let us hope that we get through the camp-ball game tomorrow as smoothly as we have gotten through this first day.”
“Aye,” Richard agreed. He gave his father a sympathetic smile. “But it’s not likely.”
Gervase sighed. “I know.”
“Is it dangerous?” asked Alan, who had never attended the camp-ball game before.
“It can get a little rough,” Hugh said with amusement.
“This year we’ve limited the boundaries of the camping close,” Gervase said. “I hope that will help eliminate some of the fighting in alleys that always tends to go on.”
“What are the new boundaries?” Hugh asked.
“The length of the close will be the same as always, from the city wall to the Bail wall, but this year we are going to confine the game to the Mickelgate and the Strait.”
“What?” The identical exclamation, made in identically outraged voices, burst from Richard and Hugh simultaneously.
“That is what the town committee and I have decided,” Gervase said sternly. “I don’t want a mob of overstimulated players running through the streets of Lincoln. There was a great deal of damage done to private property last year and I won’t allow that to happen again.”
“The street is too narrow for all the players,” Richard objected.
“Aye,” said Hugh, for once in agreement with Richard. “I can see the value of limiting the playing field, but one narrow street is not enough space for two hundred players. There will be a constant pileup of men, and no one will be able to move the ball at all.”
“The committee and I have discussed that possibility,” the sheriff said in a measured tone. “If there is a pileup of players and no one can move, the game will be stopped, the pile will be separated, and the side that has possession of the ball will get to throw it.”
Both Richard and Hugh scowled.
“And who is going to have the pleasure of trying to separate the pileup?” Richard asked grimly.
“I am,” Gervase replied.
Silence prevailed while Richard and Hugh digested this information.
“It will make it a different game,” said Hugh.
“The idea is to make it a less destructive game,” the sheriff returned. “At least as far as private property is concerned.”
Hugh took a swallow of his wine. “There goes my idea of letting loose Mistress Chapman’s pigs.” His voice held real regret.
Richard laughed with genuine amusement. “I was going to use that huge swine that belongs to the shoemaker.”
Hugh grinned.
“Well, you boys will just have to think of something that does not involve other people’s livestock,” Gervase said firmly. “If you try to do something like that on the Strait, the whole game will stop.”
Hugh lifted one black eyebrow. “A challenge, Richard,” he said softly.
Richard’s blue eyes glinted. “So it is,” he replied. “So it is.”
The second day of the fair was not as warm or as clear as the first day had been. Clouds had moved in from the east overnight, and there was a dampness in the air that foretold rain.
The weather did not dampen the spirits of the men of Lincoln as they prepared for the camp-ball game, however. The sport itself was very simple. It was played by two teams, each of which had to try to get the leather camp-ball to the opposing side’s goal. The chief rule was that the ball had to be run or thrown, not kicked. The game started when the ball was tossed up between the two sides. Whichever side gained control of it immediately took off for the opposing side’s goal, and went as far as it possibly could.
There were no rules beyond getting the ball to the goal. How you ran the ball, how you stopped the ball, how you stole the ball, all of these things were left to the imagination and invention of the players.
There were always a large number of injuries, ranging from bruises to sprained ankles to broken bones. All the young men of Lincoln adored the game and looked forward to it throughout the whole of the long dark winter.
As soon as ten o’clock mass was finished on Wednesday morning the players gathered in the yard of Saint Peter ad Placita near the city wall in order to choose up sides. This was done quite simply by having each captain call men from among the packed crowd of waiting players.
Hugh, as befitted his superior status, went first.
“Hubert Dunning,” he called, to Alan’s surprise. Hubert was the son of the town’s silversmith. Alan had expected that the men of the castle guard would be taken before the men from town.
A slender, fair-haired young man separated himself from the crowd and went to stand behind Hugh. He was grinning.
Richard chose as Alan had expected. He took one of the largest of the knights from the castle.
Alan tried not to feel disappointed that Richard had not chosen him first.
It was more difficult to restrain his emotions, however, as the choosing of sides went on. Hugh took a variety of men, some from the town and some from the castle. Richard continued to go for the knights first.
He took John Rye, who was not even a permanent member of the castle guard.
Richard did not look once at Alan.
Don’t be a fool, Alan castigated himself. You are not half as strong as these men. You can’t even pull a full-size longbow! Richard wants to win and he is choosing accordingly. He can’t be concerned about your puny feelings.
Then, to Alan’s surprise and intense relief, he heard his name being called.