CHAPTER 18Over both bridges, the people poured into Bruges. From far and wide, they came to watch the contests of arms held in the field below the Count’s castle. My parents and I were among the favoured few who watched the knights and soldiers gather from the Count’s platform.
For a time, the three of us were silent among the gushing throng, each thinking our own, not necessarily pleasant thoughts while we pretended to take in the colourful scene below. For those who liked such spectacles, it was an impressive sight: martial, splendid, and to me, barbaric. Bright, swirling cloaks and glinting helmets swept together, mingling with the great war-horses and the running squires and servants who sprang between groups, eternally busy. The tension and excitement grew with the numbers of contend
