“Benjamin will be glad to see you,” Hugh said, and Alan actually laughed.
The whole of the household was gathered in the solar of Ralf’s town house when Hugh and Alan walked in.
Thomas was the first to speak, demanding imperatively, “What are the terms of the combat, Hugh? Do you fight on horseback or on foot?”
“On foot,” Hugh replied.
Thomas swore. On horseback, Hugh would have the advantage. He and Rufus were so in tune with each other that they functioned as a single unit. No matter how splendid Richard’s black mount may be, Thomas knew he would not be the match of Rufus.
“You should have demanded horses,” he said grimly.
“The chief justiciar is anxious to get back to London,” Hugh said. “He wants this combat ended as quickly as possible.”
“And so no horses,” Cristen said.
“And so no horses…and no armor, either, I’m afraid.”
“What! No armor? Is he mad?”
The indignant exclamation came from Thomas.
Cristen merely turned white. “You can’t wear your mail coat?” she asked.
Hugh shook his head. “No mail, no helmet, no shield. Just a sword and a dagger.”
This was stunning news. A duel such as the one Richard had called for was usually fought by two fully armed men. With the mail protection, it could take the great broadswords almost a full day to so hack and tear and rip at the mail that a man would finally go down with a mortal wound.
Cristen said steadily, “You have God on your side. You will win.”
He gave her a brilliant smile.
“Can you wear a leather jerkin?” Thomas asked practically.
“My understanding was that the less protection we have, the happier the chief justiciar will be,” Hugh said drily. “In fact, I got the distinct impression that he would be delighted if he somehow managed to rid the world of both of us.”
“Well, that is not going to happen,” Cristen said. “I won’t stand for it.”
Hugh looked at her.
“You should eat something,” she said.
“All right.”
Her brow furrowed in thought. “A bowl of stew, I think. Just enough to give you strength, not enough to weigh you down.”
He nodded docilely.
“Come with me to the kitchen,” she commanded.
“I will check over your weapons,” Thomas said. “And I think you should use my dagger. Its blade is longer than yours, Hugh.”
“Very well,” Hugh said.
“Mabel, will you take the children upstairs, please?” Cristen said.
Nicholas opened his mouth to protest, and found himself skewered by a pair of level gray eyes. “Do as Lady Cristen asks,” Hugh said.
Nicholas responded to that look in the same way everyone else did. He obeyed.
“Alan,” Cristen said. “Perhaps you could help Thomas with Hugh’s gear.”
“Of course, my lady,” Alan responded, glad to be given a task that included him in the group.
In less than a minute, Hugh and Cristen were alone in the solar. He held out his arms and she moved into them.
“I have to do this,” he said. He pressed his mouth against her hair and she could feel his lips move.
“I know you do,” she said. “I hate it, but I know you do.”
“I will be all right,” he said. “For all his touted brilliance with a sword, Richard has a flaw, and I know how to exploit it.”
“What is his flaw?” Her face was pressed into his shoulder and her words sounded muffled.
“The same one that he evinces in every other area of his life. He thinks he is invincible.”
She didn’t reply.
He put his hands on her shoulders and held her away from him. “Don’t worry, my love. Richard has called for a Judgment of God, and that is what he is going to get. I am merely God’s chosen instrument.”
“I know that you are, Hugh,” she replied gravely. “I have always known that you are.”
The duel was to be held in the Inner bail, within a rectangular area that William Rotier, acting as marshal in place of the sheriff, decreed should be marked off on three sides by rope. The fourth side was the stone wall that separated the space from the Bail.
Chairs for the chief justiciar and the bishop were placed along one of the short roped-off sides. The presence of the bishop was necessary since a Judgment of God was viewed as an ecclesiastical matter as well as one of civil justice.
A line of knights from the castle guard stood behind the ropes to keep the onlookers from spilling into the dueling area. They were also charged with the duty of keeping the combatants from getting out.
Word had spread through the town like fire in a drought, and it seemed that most of Lincoln had poured into the castle to watch the fight. Most of the citizens were refused entrance to the Inner bail, and had to content themselves with remaining outside the wall, where they could only strain to hear the sound of the broadswords clashing and wait to find out who had won.
Thomas had been horrified when he realized that Cristen meant to view the fight, but nothing he said could persuade her to remain at home. Hugh had left earlier, so it was left to Thomas and Alan to escort her to the castle.
They were admitted to the Inner bail, and Thomas ruthlessly elbowed his way through the crowd, demanding loudly that everyone “make way for Lady Cristen Haslin,” while Alan did his best to shield her from being jostled by the eager onlookers.
Thomas managed to secure her a good viewing place between two of the knights who were guarding the arena perimeter, and he and Alan took up a protective stance behind her.
Hugh and Bernard were standing in the corner of the arena nearest the wall, talking quietly. Cristen looked at Hugh’s slender figure and felt her chest tighten painfully with fear.
Save him, God, she prayed. Please, please, God. Save him.
There was a movement along the wall on the opposite side of the arena, and Richard ducked under the rope and entered the arena alone. As he stood there, looking out over the crowd, the wind blew a hole in the gray sky and the sun shone through, lighting Richard’s uncovered hair to gold and glinting off the polished steel of the broadsword he held in his hand. Cristen thought grimly that he looked like an archangel making ready to go into combat for the Lord.
Behind her, Cristen heard Alan’s breath catch in what sounded like a sob.
Suddenly the whole of the crowd behind them began to shift, and there came angry exclamations and curses as people were once again shoved aside. Cristen turned her head and saw a wedge of armed knights thrusting their way toward the front. In the midst of the knights walked Lady Elizabeth de Beauté. The girl had removed her wimple, and her red-gold hair shone in the sudden sunlight. She saw Cristen, and indicated to her knights that she wished to join her.
Elizabeth’s beautiful face looked tense as she took up her place beside Cristen. Cristen felt sorry for this girl, who had been forced to choose between avenging her father and a lover she adored. Richard’s betrayal must have broken her heart.
Cristen said quietly, “I think it was very brave of you to stand up and testify as you did, Lady Elizabeth. It could not have been easy.”
Elizabeth’s green eyes glittered with what could have been suppressed fury or unshed tears. Or both.
“He killed my father,” she said. “I sat there, and I listened to the testimony, and I saw it clear as day. Richard killed my father.”
“I am afraid that he did,” Cristen said with pity.
“He had dinner with me, and when he met my father in the courtyard after, he lured him into the Minster and he killed him. I saw them walk away together. I saw him lead my father to his death.”
“I am so sorry,” Cristen said gently.
“He played me for a fool,” Elizabeth said, her voice hard. “He lied to me. He told me that he loved me and I believed him. Well, I’ll wager he’s sorry now.”
Cristen stared at her in astonishment.