The Greatest Knight Read Online Free Page B

concealed it with a brightly coloured cap pulled low at the brow and banded with small gemstones.
    William scrambled to his feet. “No, my lord, just deep in thought.”
    “And what does a lad of your age have to think deeply about, hmm?”
    William glanced down at his reflection, distorted in the polished steel of his helm. “I was wondering if I should return to my family in England,” he said.
    “A man should always keep his family in his thoughts and prayers,” de Tancarville replied, “but I expected your mind to be on the tournament. Everyone else’s is.” He smiled and gestured around the bustling hall.
    “Yes, my lord, but they have the equipment to take part, and I do not.” He made himself hold the Chamberlain’s gaze.
    “Ah.” De Tancarville stroked his chin.
    William said nothing. He wasn’t going to tell his lord that he had been forced to sell his knighting cloak in order to buy a common rouncy.
    De Tancarville allowed the moment to stretch beyond comfort and then released the tension with a sardonic smile. “You displayed great courage and prowess at the fight for Drincourt, even if you were a rash young fool into the bargain. You’ll be a fine asset to my tourney team. I’ve arranged for a horse-coper to bring some destriers to the tourney field on the morrow. You weren’t the only knight to lose his mount in the battle. Since you’ve been taught a lesson, I’ll replace your stallion this time. The rest is up to you. If you capture other knights and take ransoms, you’ll be able to redeem your finances. If you fail…” De Tancarville shrugged and let the end of the sentence hang. He didn’t need to put it into words.
    “Thank you, my lord!” William’s eyes were suddenly as bright as his helm. “I’ll prove myself worthy, I swear I will!”
    De Tancarville grinned. “You’re a good boy, William,” he said, slapping him on the shoulder. “Let us hope that one day you’ll make an even finer man.”
    William managed not to wince despite the lingering tenderness from his wound. It was a small price to pay; everything was suddenly a small price to pay. He would show de Tancarville that he was a man, not a boy, and capable of standing on his own two feet.
    ***
    William eyed the stallion that two grooms were holding at the de Tancarville horse lines. Its hide was the colour of new milk, its mane and tail a silver cascade. Spanish blood showed in the profile of its head, the neat ears, the strong curved neck, deep chest, and powerful rump. It should have been the first to be chosen, not the only one left. William had been busy erecting his pavilion and whether out of spite, oversight, or heavy-handed jesting, no one had told him that the horse-coper had arrived and that the new destriers were being apportioned to their owners.
    “We left you a fine horse, Marshal!” shouted Adam Yqueboeuf, a belligerent, stoutly set young knight who disliked William and baited him at every opportunity. “Only the best for our lord’s favourite relative!”
    Pretending indifference to Yqueboeuf’s taunt, William approached the stallion and saw from the sweat caking the line of the saddle cloth and breast-band that the others had probably had their turn at it. Like a new whore in a brothel, he thought. Used and overused on the first night until of no use at all to the last man in line. In dismay he took in the laid-back ears; the tension in the loins; the way the grooms were holding tight to the restraining ropes.
    “He’s wild, sir,” one of them warned as William approached side-on to the horse’s head so that it could see him. Its hide shivered and twitched like the surface of a pool in the rain. He reached out to pat the damp, gleaming neck and for a while quietly soothed the stallion, letting it drink his scent and grow accustomed to his presence.
    “Wild?” he questioned the groom in a soft voice. “In what way?”
    “He’s a puller, sir—bad mouth. No one’s been able to manage