Warrior Knight

2. Preparation-1

Spring 1095 SR

A drop of water struck his face, and Ludwig opened his eyes. Above him sagged the top of the pavilion, weighed down by the accumulated rain. He sat up on his straw pallet and rubbed his eyes, trying to banish the fatigue. The sound of ripping fabric greeted his ears, and he looked up right as the top of the tent gave way, releasing a torrent of water.

Kurt, who was on the other side of the pavilion, woke with a start. The sight of Ludwig’s indignation at being drenched was too much for him to bear, and he burst out laughing.

“It"s not funny!” shouted Ludwig.

“Oh, yes it is!” roared his companion. “You look like a drowned rat.”

Ludwig stood, shaking the water from his hair. It was a brisk morning, cold enough to see one"s breath, and the water had been frigid. Digging through his meagre belongings, he pulled forth a dry shirt and donned it quickly.

From outside drifted the sound of a herald making his way through the camp, calling the participants to gather at the registration tent.

“Looks like I’d better hurry,” said Ludwig. “It sounds as if things are starting.”

Kurt, who had also risen, was less enthusiastic. “Don’t do this, Ludwig.”

“What, joust? I told you, I know what I’m doing.”

“No you don’t," insisted Kurt. "You could get yourself killed.”

Ludwig, who was already in a foul mood, quickly turned on the man. “I know what I’m doing!”

“Don’t be a fool, Ludwig. You’ve never fought from horseback, or even held a lance, and you expect to win?”

“Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not my father!”

“No, I’m not. I’m your friend, and I’m trying to help you.”

Ludwig felt his rage building, yet he was unwilling to contain it. “You can help me by staying out of my business.”

“This competition will be the death of you, Ludwig. I want no part of it.”

“Then leave! No one’s stopping you.”

Kurt stared back, stunned by the words. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I?” Ludwig took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but he was furious. He snapped up his tunic, pulling it over his shirt.

“I’m going to find out who I’m fighting,” he grumbled. "You’d best be gone by the time I return.” Ludwig immediately regretted his words but refused to back down.

“And don’t darken my presence again,” he shouted over his shoulder as he stormed out of the tent, a blast of cold wind doing little to cool his temper. He stomped past the horses tethered outside on his way towards the registration tent.

A group of knights was gathered here, talking in low tones as they waited. Ludwig’s arrival was marked by little more than a cursory glance when he took his place amongst the others, cursing the temperature under his breath while he shivered.

It felt like an eternity passed before the official finally emerged, along with a young lad holding a small pot, and a clerk, carefully balancing a portable table on which rested quill, ink, and parchment. The official lifted his arms to get everyone"s attention, and the crowd fell silent.

“I am here this day to draw names for the joust,” he announced, “but before I do, I shall go over the rules, few as they are. Combatants will make up to three passes each round, the victor being the individual who accumulates the most points. Any hit with a lance nets one point, whilst breaking said lance is worth two. If you should manage to unhorse your opponent, three points shall be granted. The competition will immediately cease should either person reach five points. Otherwise, the greatest accumulation of points will advance to the next round.”

“What of a tie?” someone called out.

The official smiled, warming to the task. “In such a case, additional passes will be run until such time as one combatant gains more points than his opponent. Once all knights have completed their initial rounds, new opponents will be assigned.”

“What of ransom?” called out Sir Hendrick.

“Short on funds, are we?” said the official. The knights all laughed, but Ludwig felt sweat begin to break out on his brow.

“The usual rules will apply,” the man continued. “Now, shall we proceed with the draw?” Nods of encouragement soon convinced him to continue.

“Each knight’s name has been placed in this pot. I will now draw them, two at a time, to determine whom each of you must face in the first elimination round.”

He looked at the clerk who, having set down the small table, had taken up the quill and was waiting to record the results. With a nod, the official began the process.

“The first match will be between Sir Hendrick of Corburg and Sir Nathan of Feldmarch.”

Congratulations were offered from the rest of the competitors, then all eyes once again returned to the official. The man dipped his hand into the pot once more, pulling forth another pair of names. “The next match will be”—he paused as he read the name—“Sir Ludwig of Garmund, who faces Sir Galrath of Paledon.”

“Who?” called out Sir Hendrick.

“Sir Galrath of Paledon,” replied the official.

“We all know Sir Galrath, but who is this Sir Ludwig of which you speak?”

“That’s me,” piped up Ludwig. He held up his arm to make his presence known.

The crowd parted, and Sir Galrath came into view. The large knight looked him up and down in a dismissive manner. “Oh,” he finally said, “it’s you.”

“We met yesterday,” said Ludwig.

“So we did, but I’d forgotten your name.”

Ludwig felt slighted, and his ears began to burn. Did this man intend to insult him?

“I shall look forward to thoroughly trouncing you,” the knight continued.

“It is I who shall trounce you, sir!” countered Ludwig.

Galrath smiled, evidently pleased with the response. Ludwig was ready to continue the debate, but his opponent simply turned, facing forward once more as the official continued. Ludwig fumed, letting the anger build within. It wasn’t until they neared the end of the announcements that he resolved to take more immediate action.

The crowd began to thin as most knights returned to their tents to prepare themselves, but Ludwig sought out Sir Galrath. The man was chatting amiably to Sir Hendrick when Ludwig interrupted.

“You owe me an apology, sir!”

The older knight turned to him in surprise, a hint of amusement on his face as he saw his accuser.

“Well?” demanded Ludwig.

“Well, what?” said Galrath.

“Will you apologize for your slight?”

The knight glanced at his companion, who offered a wry smile of his own. Hendrick provided his own observation. “Apparently our friend here is unfamiliar with the etiquette of the tourney.”

“Ah,” said Galrath, “the passion of youth. Well do I remember it.”

“Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here,” demanded Ludwig.

“My dear fellow,” continued the knight, “I can assure you I bear you no ill will.”

“In spite of that, you insult me to my face.”

“It"s naught but friendly banter meant to harden your resolve, common enough at events such as this. You must take no offence.”

Ludwig felt his face turn crimson. Was this man mocking him, or had he truly misread his intentions? It was so hard to tell.

“In any case,” continued Sir Galrath, “we must both prepare for the joust. You’d best go don your armour and get your horse saddled.”

“But we are second up,” said Ludwig, struggling with what to say.

The knight chuckled. “You are young, my friend, and inexperienced in such things, so I will forgive your ignorance. A round of jousting is short, seldom lasting more than two or three passes. If you are not ready when your name is called, you will forfeit your placement, and your opponent will advance without challenge. While that might suit some, it does not sit well with me. I prefer to earn my spot at the top, not be handed it by someone"s lack of preparedness. Now off with you, and we shall settle our differences later, at the joust.”

Sir Galrath turned his back on Ludwig, continuing his discussion with Sir Hendrick. Ludwig felt his pulse quicken but wheeled around, stomping off to his pavilion to prepare.

By the time he got to his tent, his temper had fled, to be replaced by a sense of worry, even fear, although this he fought to control. He wanted to talk to Kurt, but as he rounded the pavilion, only his own horse remained.

Ludwig looked around, desperate to find his friend, but it was useless; he had long since fled. Once inside, he realized with a shock that he had no one to help him armour up. How then was he to dress for battle? It was one thing to put on a tunic, quite another to actually don armour. He stepped back outside, casting his eyes about to see the other knights already dressing, helped by their squires. Ludwig cursed himself for his selfishness. If he hadn’t lost his temper, he wouldn’t be in this mess.

A man in the brown cassock of Saint Mathew wandered through the tents, offering prayers as the knights readied themselves. He halted before Ludwig. “Is something wrong, Sir Knight?”

“Yes,” the young man replied, “I need help getting into my armour. My helper appears to have run off.”

“Could I be of assistance?”

“Are you a Temple Knight?”

“Saints, no. I am but a humble lay brother.”

“Then I doubt you can help.”

“On the contrary, I have two older brothers who took up the lance. I am more than familiar with the armour of knights. Would you accept my aid?”

Ludwig nodded. “Aye, for I have little choice. My name is Ludwig.”

“Of Garmund?”

“You know of me?”

“I was reading over the list of competitors just now, and I saw your name. Mine is Brother Vernan.”

“Very well, Brother Vernan. Shall we step inside?”

“By all means, Sir Knight.”

“Please, call me Ludwig.”

Inside the tent, Ludwig began spreading out his armour.

“You’ll want to start with the doublet,” said the Holy Man, “although this one appears a little the worse for wear.” He held it up, examining the cuts and tears.

“I used it when practicing,” explained Ludwig. “I’m afraid I left home before I had a chance to have repairs made.”

“It matters little. After all, your armour will be worn overtop." He held it as Ludwig slipped his arms into the sleeves and began tying it up.

“So how is it,” said the young lord, “that you ended up joining the Church?”

“My father was a knight, as were my two older brothers, but I was never one for fighting, enjoying the simple pleasures of education and intellect instead. It was only natural that I should join the Church. What of you? Did you leave home in somewhat of a hurry? Of course, if you prefer not to talk of it, I shall understand.”