Storm Clouds Rolling In (11 page)

House slaves moved quickly to clear away the remnants of the dinner feast. Carrie, her blood coursing with excitement, joined the stream of people flowing toward the tournament arena. The competition was due to begin in just forty-five minutes. Robert had excused himself fifteen minutes earlier from the meal in order to collect Granite and make sure he was warm and loose before the tournament began. He had paused at the door to cast a warm smile in Carrie’s direction and then moved quickly to join the other young men going after their horses. Carrie had looked up just in time to see Louisa’s calculated look.

Carrie joined her throng of friends at the side of the arena, eager not to miss any of the opening ceremonies.
She smiled as she looked around. It was indeed a perfect day for the tournament. The storm the night before had cleared the air, the sky was a crystal blue, and the air sparkled with freshness. The fresh spring green of the trees swayed gently in the breeze and the fragrance of early spring blooms lent their own unique perfume.              

Close to one hundred friends and neighbors lined the rails of the arena.
The men looked elegant in their suits, while the women were resplendent in their brightly colored gowns and hats, many holding frilly parasols to ward off the mid-day sun. Carrie turned her face eagerly toward the sun. She could seldom be bothered with a parasol, opting instead for the healthy glow the sun gave her and not caring one fig that many of her friends shook their heads over yet another one of her oddities.

She heard the drum of
hoofbeats and looked up to watch the line of young men galloping toward the platform erected especially for the day’s activities. Carrie quickly singled out Robert Borden racing toward her. Already he looked at home on Granite. The two made a dashing pair. Within seconds the cavalcade of young riders and horses surrounded the platform. A mighty horn was blown and the master of ceremonies, Colonel James Benton from a neighboring plantation, raised his voice to carry through the now quiet throng.

“Ladies and
gentlemen, it is now time for the
charge of the knights
.” His steely gaze swept over the crowd before he turned his attention to the competitors. “Gentlemen, you are gathered here today to participate in the most chivalrous and gallant sport known. It has been called the sport of kings, and well it should. It has come down to us from the Crusades, being at that time a very hazardous undertaking. You probably know, but I intend to tell you once more...” He allowed his voice to trail off as laughter rippled through the crowd. Every year he said the same thing. It was now part of the tradition everyone loved and expected.

“
The knights of that day rode in full armor, charging down the lists at each other with the intent that the best man would knock his opponent from his horse. It was a rough and dangerous pastime. Many were seriously hurt. Some were killed. But we, in this day, have gotten soft and tender—as well as much smarter, I believe—and have eliminated the danger and roughness of the sport.” Again, laughter riffled through the crowd, but no one spoke up to mar the seriousness of the charge.

All levity left the
colonel’s voice as he leaned forward to address the young men. “But with all that, it is still a manly and fascinating sport.; One that tests the horsemanship, dexterity, skill, quickness of eye, steadiness, and control of the rider, and the speed, smoothness of gait, and training of the horse. It is an honorable sport and I do not need to mention that a knight taking any undue advantage of his opponents will be ruled out of the tournament.” Having pressed his point home to the competitors, the colonel continued on with the instructions.

Carrie knew the rules by heart, but still she listened attentively.

“The three ring hangers are spaced twenty yards apart.
The start is twenty yards from the first ring—making the total length of the list sixty yards. Any rider taking more than seven seconds from the start to the last ring will be ruled out. Should anything untoward happen during the tilt that would prevent the rider from having a fair try at the rings, he will so indicate by lowering his lance and making no try at the rings. The judges will decide whether he is entitled to another tilt. All rings must be taken off the lances by the judges. No others will be counted. The rings on the first tilt will be two inches in diameter; on the second tilt, one and a half; on the third tilt, one; on the fourth tilt, three quarters; and on the fifth ,and last, tilt—if there are competitors left—one half inch.”

Having dispensed with the rules, the
colonel smiled and regarded the young men warmly. “All of you are riding not only to win, but to gain the coveted honor of crowning the lady of your choice the Queen of Love and Beauty at the ball later tonight. The next seven riders will have the privilege of honoring the lady of their choice as lady-in-waiting for the queen. Only the members of the court will participate in the opening figures at the ball tonight. Good luck to you. May the best man win and the fairest lady be crowned.”

Another mighty blow on the horn announced the beginning of the competition.
A rousing cheer rose from the crowd, along with a whoop from the riders as they galloped their horses in the direction of the starting line.

Robert held Granite back.

Carrie, from her position in the crowd, wondered what was holding him back.
She saw his eyes casting about through the crowd. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Louisa making her way in Robert’s direction.

“Oh, Mr. Borden!”
Louisa’s voice rang out over the crowd loud enough for Carrie to hear.

Robert spun Granite. Carrie watched as the two exchanged greetings and then Robert scanned the crowd one more time.
Carrie saw a flash of anger and a look of determination in Louisa’s eyes. She knew Louisa had met men like Robert before. She was always able to conquer their proud ways. Carrie feared Robert Borden would be no exception. Then she immediately wondered why she feared it.

Moving forward now, Louisa held a dainty lace handkerchief up to Robert.

Carrie stifled a groan. She had forgotten. In the midst of her excitement about Granite competing in the race, she had forgotten the tradition of the knight’s token, and Louisa was giving Robert her handkerchief. Carrie’s eyes narrowed. What
was
Louisa thinking? Her own brother was riding in competition against Robert. Why would Louisa give her handkerchief to a rival?

Robert took the proffered token and with a courtly bow tucked it into the pocket next to his heart.
Smiling, he turned and headed Granite toward the starting line. Louisa, turning away after Robert rode off, caught Carrie watching the exchange. She gave a satisfied smile before she swished away to join a group of her male admirers.

Carrie, disgusted with herself, bit her lip and turned away.
She was furious with Louisa but knew she didn’t really have a right to be. She should have already given Robert a token, though heaven knows what she would have given him. Louisa had simply done what Carrie already should have. She turned back and gazed at Robert astride Granite. A sudden thought hit her like a bolt of spring lightning. Who was to say Robert couldn’t have more than one token? She had never heard of it being done before, but what did that matter. Robert was riding
her
horse. Carrie cast in her mind for an adequate token. Suddenly she knew. Eyes alight with determination, she edged through the crowd until she reached the starting line.

“Mr. Borden,” she called.
The crowd and the milling of the horses drowned out her voice. “Mr. Borden!” she called again, louder this time.

Robert turned Granite to meet her, his face instantly wreathed in smiles.
Moving over to where she stood, he vaulted from the Thoroughbred and looked down at her. “What can I do for you, Miss Cromwell?”

“I thought...” Carrie hesitated.

“Yes?”

Chiding herself for her childishness, she forced herself to continue.
“Well, I thought you might...I mean...” Firmly she brought herself under control. This was ridiculous. He would either accept it or turn it down. Gathering all the dignity she could muster, she curtsied and spoke calmly. “You are riding a Cromwell horse and I thought it only proper that I give you a token from the Cromwell household. I apologize for being remiss and not doing it sooner.”

Robert smiled.
“I would be honored, Miss Cromwell.”

“May I borrow your knife, sir?”

“Excuse me?” Robert made no effort to hide his confusion.

“Surely you carry a knife.”

“Well, yes, but what need do you have for a knife?”

“A knife, please?”
Carrie’s voice was soft, but determined.

Robert, obviously mystified, reached behind to pull a small knife from its sheath on his belt.

“Thank you, sir.
I’m afraid I didn’t come prepared for the tournament, so I’m rather limited with what I can give you. I hope this will suffice.” Reaching up, Carrie took hold of a curly lock that had escaped from her bun. Swiftly she cut her hair and handed it to Robert. “I trust you will win, Mr. Borden.”

Robert, watching in amazement, slowly reached out to accept the extended token.
“Thank you, Miss Cromwell. I will indeed win. You may count on it.” Bowing low, he turned and swung back into the saddle. He smiled at her upturned face and rode away to join the others.

“Ladies and
gentlemen, our first contestant is the Knight of Granville.” The crowd hushed as the determined young man steadied his horse and gripped his sword tightly. With a wave of the flag, he was off.

Carrie watched closely as the young man thundered down the list on his black mare.
Leaning slightly forward in the saddle, all of his concentration was focused on the job at hand. He got the first ring! A mighty cheer rang from the crowd. The second ring! And the third! With a triumphant whoop he brought his horse down to a trot and returned to the judges’ stand to relinquish his rings. Before he was even there, the flag dropped and the next contestant was off.

After the initial clapping had worn down, the crowd
began to melt away toward the refreshment tent. The tournament would go on for quite a while. Few were willing to watch it in its entirety. They would wait until the last couple of tilts when the field was narrowed to a handful of determined, talented young men who were intent on winning all.

Carrie edged closer to the finish line where she would be sure to have a good view of the list.
She intended to watch the entire competition. She wanted to know how Granite was handling the course and she was curious about the competition. She had always enjoyed the tournament, but never before had her heart been so engaged.

Robert was number ten in the initial field of thirty.
Carrie watched carefully as the first nine knights went through the course. Only four of them were able to collect all three rings. Robert was talking quietly to Granite. The well-muscled Thoroughbred knew something was coming. He seemed to be watching the tournament just as closely as his rider. Granite needed to be ready but loose when his time came. Carrie had seen the result of horses strung too tightly.

“The Knight of Borden
.”

Robert moved forward as his name was called.
Carrie tensed as he gripped Granite’s reins and leaned forward slightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the flag flash down. They were off! Granite seemed to float across the ground as he thundered toward the first ring. Robert eyed the circular prize carefully and steadied his arm. The first ring was his! The second and the third both followed quickly.

Carrie clapped enthusiastically as Robert brought Granite down to a trot and circled around to the
judges’ stand. He would be in the second tilt, and he had ridden Granite beautifully. They seemed to fit each other perfectly. Carrie’s belief that the two could win the entire tournament skyrocketed. She watched, smiling, as Robert rode over to her.

“This is quite a horse you have here!”
His eyes snapped with excitement, making him even more handsome.

“And you are quite a rider, Knight Borden!”
Carrie’s excitement had chased away any reticence, and she smiled up at him radiantly. Suddenly she realized he was staring at her with open admiration. Discomfited, she flushed and looked down.

“Thank you for your vote of confidence,” Robert replied gravely.
He waved casually and rode off to join the rest of the knights who had won the right to ride in the second tilt.

“Ladies and
gentlemen, we have fifteen young knights who will compete in the second tilt. Remember, the rings have been reduced in size from two inches to an inch and a half.”

Robert and Granite again claimed three rings
, as did eight other riders.

“Ladies and
gentlemen, nine young knights will compete in the third tilt for the one-inch rings.”

Carrie knew Robert’s main competition was Nathan Blackwell.
Nathan’s mare Comet was a veteran of the tournaments, as was Nathan, who hadn’t been defeated in ten years. Carrie allowed herself a small smile at the thought of dethroning the young knight. She had nothing against him personally. In fact, she had always liked Louisa’s friendly brother. She found Nathan to be quite different from his sister—direct and to the point.