Authors: David Wind
"I charge you both to uphold the code of chivalry, and give you the knightly rights and responsibilities to bear arms and mete justice. In the name of England, King Richard, and God, rise, Sir James of Radstock. Rise, Sir Arthur of Radstock."
The twins rose slowly, their eyes wide and staring. "When this day is done, and if you have need, my husband will reaffirm my actions. Roweena," she called.
Roweena came forward. In her arms were the two long objects she had secreted in the conveyance the night they had left Ascalon and had kept hidden from James and Arthur until this very moment. The twins gasped as one when they saw the swords. "Use them wisely and treat them well," Gwendolyn intoned. The two newly knighted twins took their new swords and held them reverently in their hands. Then, acting as one, they knelt again and held the swords upward.
"We pledge our oath to you, Sir Eldwin, Lord Protector of Radstock, and to Sir Miles, and the Lady Gwendolyn."
"Rise, my knights," Gwendolyn whispered. "The mask." A moment later, James adjusted the mask of Eldwin and secured it. When he stepped back, his throat constricted painfully. He knew that this day would be the last day he would assist the knight he loved so dearly.
Gwendolyn sheathed her father's sword and, as Valkyrie called loudly, she turned to watch as Saladin appeared in the distance.
Chapter Twenty-seven
GWENDOLYN
stood motionless as Saladin descended into the Arena of Souls. He rode his large white stallion, and behind him was another knight. Behind that knight appeared a cart, and a stab of anger burned into Gwendolyn's mind when she saw Miles suspended by chains within it.
Turning, she walked back to the conveyance. She had spoken to Roweena yesterday and told her exactly what to do and say. When Gwendolyn reached the curtained litter, she saw an image within it and could make out the low sheen of the golden coif. Roweena would suffice if Saladin did not force his way inside. James and Arthur had been ordered to prevent that, and she knew they would.
But she wanted to leave nothing to chance and had still another idea. She did not know if this idea would succeed, but she grasped the sword and closed her eyes. She invoked its power and sensed it stir within her hands. Building an image of herself in her mind, she pictured herself in the litter and asked that all who gazed at it believe she was truly inside. Then she lowered the sword and nodded to the twin knights.
They moved the litter toward the edge of the field and, when it was set, they took their places in front of the curtains, their swords drawn in protection.
Then Gwendolyn turned to await Saladin and his champion. While she waited, she turned her outrage for Miles's treatment into a white-hot fury that would control her hands and the sword they would soon wield.
As they came nearer, Gwendolyn studied her adversary.
He was large, and even on horseback she saw he would stand well above her. His arms were corded with layer upon layer of muscle, and his broad shoulders would add to the strength of his blows. He was naked from the waist up. His skin glowed with a fine sheen of perspiration.
Then they were there. Saladin dismounted and stepped in front of Sir Eldwin. "You are ready?" he asked.
Gwendolyn nodded.
Saladin walked past Eldwin and stopped a few feet in front of the litter. Both James and Arthur stood stiffly, but their swords moved swiftly, crossing in a blur to block Saladin's goal.
He laughed as he watched them. "Our bargain is met. Prepare to join me shortly!"
The form behind the curtains shifted, but no response issued forth.
"Will you not speak to me? Will you not show yourself?
Open the curtain! The contest will not start until I see your face!"
Slowly, a slender hand reached out and parted the curtain.
Saladin stared at the golden-veiled woman, trying to pierce the mistiness of the threads. A moment later the curtain fell back in place, and Saladin turned to face Eldwin. "Your mistress tempts me with her veil. I shall enjoy removing it in a short while."
For an answer, Gwendolyn held out her arm. Valkyrie left his perch on the litter and glided over to her. She stared at Saladin for a moment through the slits in the chamois mask and then gave Valkyrie his command with a thought. She flung him skyward, his loud call shattering the day. Then he circled above them. Gwendolyn's guard was on patrol.
"Look now at your master, Knight of England. Look at how he is held to mockery. You must defeat al-Nasir before you gain your master's release. Are you ready?"
Gwendolyn glanced at Miles and saw him hold his head up proudly. A shadowy smile graced his lips, and his green eyes shone with love.
Sir Eldwin bowed formally to Saladin before striding to the center of the arena-like valley where al-Nasir stood in waiting. She noted well the overlong scimitar in his hands. Behind him, sticking up from the ground, were javelin and battle-axe; the peculiar battle-axe of the Saracens, with its sharp-tipped back edge, and razor-honed assault blade.
At her own spot rested only the battle-axe which Miles had had made for her. "My champion chooses the weapon of the fight, you must do the same. You have no javelin, only the axe. You may use your sword or axe against the javelin. Is that understood?" Saladin asked.
Gwendolyn bent and picked up the battle-axe. She hefted it and swung it in her cross pattern. That was her answer. Then she turned to al-Nasir and waited.
Gwendolyn had known since the moment she issued this challenge that she would be put to her ultimate test. It would take more than her silver sword to win this contest, and she sensed it would be she, not the blade, which determined the outcome.
Perspiration coated her face beneath the mask, as it did her entire body. The heat of the day was strong, and Gwendolyn gave thanks for the strips of cloth binding her hands.
Al-Nasir stared openly at her. Then he smiled. Turning, he pulled his axe free of the earth and grasped its long handle in his hands. Gwendolyn saw the muscles of his shoulders knot when he swung the axe. But even as he moved toward her, she inspected him minutely. The slippers he wore were curved near the toes and they were as thin as a second skin. They would find purchase no matter where he stepped. His muscles rippled under his olive skin, tanned crisp by his life in this land.
Sir Eldwin drew herself tall and bowed at the Saracen knight. Al-Nasir paused for a moment as he watched her, then, he, too, nodded his head. When he lifted it, he screamed and charged.
Gwendolyn was ready. When the man swung at her, she moved, neatly sidestepping the blow. The large axe whistled by her, missing her shoulder by two feet, and the battle was on.
They circled each other warily, neither making an advance. Four eyes watched, and four legs moved in rhythm performing a strange dance that was both graceful and deadly.
Gwendolyn let her mind float freely; choosing to let instinct and training guide her movements. She blended together all the parts of her mind and, as she had done when fighting Morgan, called upon that area of herself that was Miles.
Then she moved, using the training he had taught her, and jumped straight at al-Nasir. Before she reached him, she tucked her head and dove to the ground, the battle-axe's handle drawn against her stomach while she rolled in a perfect somersault past him. She was on her feet then, and the deadly blade of the axe whooshed through the air.
Al-Nasir had been ready for her attack, but was unprepared for what Eldwin did. He had barely turned and raised his axe when she struck. The blade of Eldwin's axe caught al-Nasir's in the center of the handle, shattering it within his grasp.
Gwendolyn recovered quickly, but not fast enough to stop the Saracen from sprinting away. Before she could go after him, he held the javelin in his hand, another wide smile spread across his face as he gave vent to a loud, haunting laugh.
AI-Nasir swung the javelin around and grasped it with both hands. "Ins'Alla," he screamed, charging toward Eldwin.
Gwendolyn set herself for the charge. Her breathing was heavy, her blood pounding in her head. She had never faced a lance on foot and never without a shield. She did not have time to draw her sword, and had to depend on the axe. She watched the tip of the javelin come nearer. Then she looked into al-Nasir's eyes. She saw blood and death written within them, but she held her fear back.
Then he lunged across the final few feet. Gwendolyn spun, whipping the axe in an upward arc. The impact of the axe on the javelin sent shivers of pain lancing through her hands, but she ignored them.
The lance had not broken, but al-Nasir had been carried far beyond her in his mad charge. He shook his head like an angry bull and spun to face Eldwin. This time his eyes locked with hers, and she saw the fighting madness which held him. He bellowed angrily, set his shoulders, and charged at her again.
Gwendolyn stood still, knowing that she could not battle him with the lance. Just when he was on her, she ducked and rolled beneath the javelin's tip, her axe swinging not at the lance, but at the Saracen's unprotected legs.
She felt the axe bite into al-Nasir's calf and saw the man trip and fall. But he was on his feet in a second, and Gwendolyn stared, unbelieving, at him. The axe should have severed his leg, yet he stood.
Al-Nasir laughed loudly and flung away the javelin. Then he tore the material of his pants at the spot Gwendolyn's axe had struck, exposing a mailled leg to her eyes.
"Fool!" he spat. Then he ran back to where he'd left the scimitar and lifted it in the air.
Gwendolyn stared at her enemy. All the warnings she had given herself had meant nothing. Saladin had lied to her. His champion was armored. His legs had been protected by armor, and she had been denied the victory she had fairly gained.
Eldwin turned to Saladin. She saw he, too, smiled broadly. She shook her head at him and then drew the silver sword. She called upon its aid, but also held its power in abeyance. She was more determined than ever to win by her own hand.
Yet, she accepted the warmth that vibrated through her and joined in with its eternal call to battle. Her arms grew light, and the strength of the sun no longer bothered her. Her breathing grew steady, and she tasted the sweet air filling her lungs. She could feel every grain of sand beneath her feet and hear every sound that floated in the air.
Al-Nasir's breathing was loud, and his step was cautious.
She gazed at him intently, her sword held before her in both hands. She crouched in an offense position, yet waited for her opponent to come at her.
Her eyes were locked on his, waiting.
Then he moved, the giant scimitar lifting in a blur as he rushed her. Gwendolyn did not move. Her arms rose in a fluid movement, carrying the sword high. Al-Nasir's blade descended and struck the silver sword.
The sounds of the blades exploded, and for an instant of eternity, both fighters were poised motionless together. Then Gwendolyn, again letting her instincts control her actions, swiveled under the blades. As she did, she drew her sword down. The moment it was free, she sidestepped and let the Saracen's weight carry him past her. Before al-Nasir could recover, Gwendolyn lunged forward. The tip of her sword bit into the sinewy muscle of his left arm.
Al-Nasir roared as he turned and, once again, faced Eldwin. He ignored the blood seeping from his arm and attacked her, calling to his God to guide him. His scimitar flashed in the sun, and the sounds of their battle grew loud in the Arena of Souls.
Saladin watched intensely as they fought. He saw his champion lose his axe and then watched as his fighting rage made him careless with the javelin. When the Frank's axe failed to hurt al-Nasir, Saladin permitted himself a laugh of indulgence. But when he held Eldwin's gaze, his smile froze on his lips. Although he could not see the knight's eyes, he felt the accusation of what Eldwin had just discovered.
For the first time, Saladin's conscience bothered him with the truth of his deceit. But that was wiped from his mind when the two met with blades. Throughout his life, he had never before witnessed a duel such as this. He had never seen a man move as swiftly as did the Frank. The long Frankish sword was like lightning in the knight's hands, forcing al-Nasir to battle time and again, yet never letting him get close.
When Eldwin's stroke drew blood, Saladin sensed the knight's own victory growing near. When the two champions came together again, Saladin turned to the grand vizier and nodded.
Borka-al-Salu took a deep breath. He lifted the bow that rested by his feet and grasped the arrow that lay next to it. But, as he watched the two men battle, he left his seat on the wagon and went to Saladin.
"It is wrong. You are making a fatal mistake. Please, Oh Guardian of the People, do not do this."
"Send the signal!" Saladin roared, his eyes never leaving the two warriors who battled under the grueling sun.
Gwendolyn fell back under the Saracen's assault. Not because he was beating her, but because she wanted to lull him. He fought passionately and, gripped within his fanatical madness, she knew he would give no quarter.
She stopped suddenly, planting her feet in the sandy soil, and countered his thrust. Then she whirled the sword over her head once, and the blade sang in the air. Its whistling path could not be followed, but its end could. The silver blade met the scimitar and forced it back.
Again and again, Gwendolyn attacked al-Nasir. Now it was her turn to press on, and she did so unmercifully. Still she did not call for the aid of the sword's power. She flowed like a spirit, blending with the blade as she attacked him. The sound of metal upon metal rang clearly, and with her heightened battle senses, she heard al-Nasir struggling to catch his breath.
Then she whirled unexpectedly, and the silver sword blurred in the air. The whistle of its passing sounded more like an arrow shaft. When it met the Saracen scimitar, the world exploded in sound.
Suddenly, al-Nasir tripped and fell backward, his scimitar held only in one hand. In an instant, the tip of the silver sword was at the Saracen's throat, penetrating the first layer of skin.
Al-Nasir stared up at the masked knight and waited for his death.
Gwendolyn turned, but held the sword against her fallen enemy as she stared at Saladin. She watched Saladin bow to her and hold his hands outstretched in the sign of peace.
Gwendolyn drew a deep breath and took the sword from al-Nasir's skin. She took a step slowly toward Miles and saw his eyes widen and his mouth open. Without hesitation, she grasped the sword in both hands and called for its power, even as she turned blindly, swinging the long blade in a fast arc.