Timeline - Michael Crichton [97]
Marek said, “You poor bastard. Do you know what you just did?”
:
Sir Guy turned to Lord Oliver at the high table. “My Lord, I pray you let the day’s tourney begin with our challenge combat.”
“So it shall be,” Oliver said.
Sir Daniel slipped forward through the crowd and bowed. “My Lord Oliver, my niece carries this jest too far, with unworthy result. It may amuse her to see Sir Guy, a knight of renown, provoked into combat with a mere squire, and so dishonored by the doing. But it ill-serves Sir Guy to be taken in by her ruse.”
“Is this so?” Lord Oliver said, looking at the dark knight.
Sir Guy Malegant spat on the floor. “A squire? Mark me, this is no squire. Here is a knight in hiding, a knave and a spy. His deceit shall have its reward. I will contest him this day.”
Sir Daniel said, “If it please my Lord, I think it is not meet. Sooth he is a squire only, of little training at arms, and no match for your worthy knight.”
Chris was still trying to understand what was going on, when Marek stepped forward, speaking fluently in a foreign language that sounded something like French, but not exactly. He guessed it was Occitan. Chris heard the translation in his earpiece.
“My Lord,” Marek said, bowing smoothly, “this worthy gentleman speaks truth. Squire Christopher is my companion, but he is no warrior. In fairness, I ask you to allow Christopher to name a champion in his stead, to meet this challenge.”
“Eh? Champion? What champion? I do not know you.”
Chris saw that Lady Claire was staring at Marek with unconcealed interest. He returned a brief glance before speaking to Oliver.
“Please my Lord, I am Sir André de Marek, late of Hainaut. I offer myself as his champion, and God willing, I shall give good account with this noble knight.”
Lord Oliver rubbed his chin, thinking.
Seeing his indecision, Sir Daniel pressed forward. “My Lord, to begin your tourney with unequal combat does not enhance the day, nor make it memorable in the minds of men. I think de Marek will give better sport.”
Lord Oliver turned back to Marek to see what he would say to that.
“My Lord,” Marek said, “if my friend Christopher is a spy, then so am I. In defaming him, Sir Guy has defamed me as well, and I beg leave to defend my good name.”
Lord Oliver seemed entertained by this new complication. “How say you, Guy?”
“Faith,” the dark knight said, “I grant you this de Marek may be a worthy second, if his arm has the skill of his tongue. But as a second, it is meet he fight my second, Sir Charles de Gaune.”
A tall man stood at the end of the table. He had a pale face, a flat nose and pink eyes; he resembled a pit bull. His tone was contemptuous as he said, “I shall be second, with pleasure.”
Marek made one final attempt. “So,” he said, “it appears Sir Guy is afraid to fight me first.”
At this, the Lady Claire openly smiled at Marek. She was clearly interested in him. And it seemed to annoy Sir Guy.
“I fear no man,” Guy said, “least of all a Hainauter. If you survive my second—which I much doubt—then I will gladly fight you after, and bring your insolence to an end.”
“So be it,” Lord Oliver said, and turned away. His tone indicated that the discussion was ended.
32:16:01
The horses wheeled and charged, racing past each other on the grassy field. The ground shook as the big animals thundered past Marek and Chris, who were standing at the low fence, watching the practice runs. To Chris, the tournament field was huge—the size of a football field—and on two sides, the stands had been completed, and ladies were beginning to be seated. Spectators from the countryside, roughly dressed and noisy, lined the rail.
Another pair of riders charged, their horses snorting as they galloped. Marek said, “How well do you ride?”
He shrugged. “I rode with Sophie.”
“Then I think I can keep you alive, Chris,” Marek said. “But you must do exactly as I tell you.”
“All right.”
“So far, you haven’t been doing what I tell you,” Marek reminded him. “This time, you must.”
“Okay, okay.”
“All you have to do,” Marek said, “is stay mounted on