The atmosphere had become one of loud roaring Imperials as they cheered and jeered the waiting combatants. Woodsmoke and early morning fog hung in the air, and it loaned an eerie almost mystical quality to the field. The sand of the arena was dry, whether by an act of the worthies or some other means, the snows had stopped. The smell of hot meat and warmed wine wafted through the stands as vendors plied their trade. The Emperor was already seated in his viewing box in purple splendour, surrounded by his brides and heir with the Grand Dukes joining them.

Edward sat his horse in a staging area that had been built behind the stands on the western side of the Lists. It had been deemed the inter-company melee would be fought first to set the tone for the Tournament. The squires were all ready and waiting, their steeds shook their manes and stamped the frozen ground like they could scent the fight to come. Davide moved to Edward’s side and Bjorn followed. “You have to lead us out Edward.” He whispered. Edward’s head snapped around, his eyes asking the question. “You outrank us all, the Order of Precedence must be observed.” He continued and Edward nodded in resignation, not trusting his voice.

A herald rode in to join them on a light-boned Palfrey. He wore the tabard of the Emperor’s staff, von Bludden’s colours of gold and white. At once he began asking for names and ordering the squires in a line from the gate, starting with Edward and continuing down the line as each squire’s station permitted. Once suitably ordered, the Herald left, giving them the signal to advance.

The Lists had changed since Edward had arrived, with a wave of his arm the Emperor had silenced the crowd. The eerie atmosphere of the fog was enhanced by the deep quiet. It was finally broken as the Herald’s deep voice boomed across the silent field.

“Your Imperial Majesty, I present to you the team of The Great Company, in the service of Sir Felix von Rabsburg, son of Lord Hannekin von Rabsburg, son of Grand Duke Albert von Rabsburg. Led out today by Edward de Marche esquire, Squire to Sir Clement d’Arlay.” The voice was incredibly loud and Edward wondered how a man could pitch his voice so perfectly to carry over so much space. A glance towards the herald’s stand showed the hunched figure of an Imperial Magister, bent over a cloth covered bundle making exaggerated hand gestures. Edward’s spine trembled at the sight of actual magic being used, and a white hot spike of pain lanced his skull behind his eyes. He shook his head to clear the unsettled feeling and to concentrate on the task at hand over the pain.

Whether it was chance or Sir Felix had gotten his way, their opponents were announced as Lord von Reichenbach’s Company. They were led by the man himself, and his harness was resplendent with gold filigree and a surcoat of cloth of gold. He carried a white baton as though he already presumed himself to be named Ober-Captain. Edward blinked, they hadn’t expected to face von Reichenbach himself, and their plan had simply been to unhorse as many knights as possible.

“Close in!” He called and the Squires quickly circled while introductions were being made. “Davide this changes things, we can’t simply do well now.” He said. Davide nodded, quite a feat in his armet that enclosed both his head and neck.

“You’re right,” Davide answered in a conspiratorial whisper, “We have to win.” He turned his head so that he could look each Squire in the eyes. “A hundred ducats to whoever puts von Reichenbach in the sand.” There was a low cheer from the gathered Squires, who could all use the money. A figure on foot had entered their circle unseen.

“Good, I want you all to make him pay for his indiscretions.” Sir Felix said and they all turned as one to look at their Captain. “I just wanted to come by and wish you luck, I wish I’d thought to fight with you now but clearly I can’t foresee everything.” He said with a chuckle, he gave Bjorn an affectionate slap on the thigh plate of his leg harness before ducking back under the rail. Without another word the Squires brought their line into cohesion facing their opponent directly across the field.

It was a melee and the rules were simple, swords only, no thrusts, and you had to knock an opponent from his horse. Once he was in the dirt a combatant had two options, retire or wait for his team mates to bring him a fresh horse. Once a horse was riderless it had to be collected and taken to the waiting Pages for it to be counted as a point. Edward grinned with wolfish delight as he scented the hunt to come, they had trained for this all week and while their opponents were belted knights, he knew that no one had trained as hard as them for this moment.

********************************************

The horn blew from the stands and the Emperor’s hand dropped to signal the start of the contest. In a heartbeat the dust rose as their horses went from a complete standstill to a full blown gallop. The fight was on instantly. Edward rode hard for the left flank of the advancing wall, his visor came down and narrowed his vision to the knight immediately in front of him. The dust was reduced by his visor but it still rose in great clouds to create a red haze across their field of vision. The knight on the leftmost flank bore a purple rose on his chest, and his sword rose as Edward closed. He passed his blade across Purple Rose’s chest, hooking under his armpits. Edward felt the concussive force of the downward blow strike the crown of his armet, but it was fouled by his own blade’s position and glanced down to his pauldron leaving little mark of its travels.

Davide swooped in behind Edward and hooked the Knight’s boot, flinging his leg over the saddle’s cantle and sending him to the dirt. There was a loud clatter of steel and a new puff of dust as Purple Rose hit. Davide turned his horse in a rear, before grabbing the fallen man’s horse by the bridle and leading it at full gallop back to their end of the field. A great cheer rang around the Lists as the Squires brought home the first point. One down, five to go, Edward thought as he turned his own mount back to the melee, in time to see Bjorn level a knight from his saddle with what looked like a simple straight punch. Edward grinned, the giant was worth his weight in gold in this contest. He saw the first squire go down, it was one of Sir Richard Chandos’ boys, he’d ridden straight for von Reichenbach and been pincored by his two guards.

Von Reichenbach’s remaining team closed in for a tight formation, knee to knee. He’d underestimated the squires and Edward could see he was yelling abuse at his knights to form up. Already down a point he couldn’t risk giving a horse to a fallen knight and giving up the one point they’d scored. Edward put spurs to his horse and rode wide, Davide followed while Bjorn straightened their remaining line to face the charge.

As he’d hoped, Edward saw Reichenbach wheel his line to chase the two of them.

“Ready Davide?” He called behind him. Without waiting for an answer, he turned his steed in a tight wheel. Sensing rather than seeing Davide do the same on his right. Once more they pricked their mounts with spurs and drove head first into the opposing team. Edward’s stallion went chest to chest with von Reichenbach’s horse with a colossal seeming crash of horseflesh. Both beasts whinnied and screamed in rage, lashing out with their teeth to rip chunks out of each other. Edward covered the Lord’s first blow, releasing his reins and trusting to his spurs to keep his horse in check. He felt three blows in quick succession rain down on his left side, but his focus was on von Reichenbach.

Edward lashed out with his steel-clad fist, driving it into the Lord’s faceplate with all the power he could muster. The ring was loud, as he hammered away, and von Reichenbach struggled to lift his sword past their arms to bring it to bear again. Arms grabbed at Edward but were soon shaken off as Bjorn’s line smashed into the rear of Reichenbach’s. The Lord looked on in despair as his knights were thrown from their saddles by squires and disgruntled horses. Then as a team, Edward, Bjorn and Davide pulled von Reichenbach over his saddle crupper and threw him to the sand below. Each grabbed a horse and sprinted for the waiting pages. Tall Boy gave Edward a wink as he took the proffered reins from him.

“Tha’ was grand t’ watch m’lord.” He grinned through missing teeth. Edward nodded in his helm before turning with his team to throw a salute to the Emperor.

The man in question stood up from his throne and gave them a clap of approval. The crowd roared, after all what crowd didn’t love seeing underdogs win. Sir Felix rode out to them on his own palfrey with a broad grin on his face.

“That was truly something to watch boys, you will each be rewarded for such outstanding performances.” He crowed to them, before turning a basilisk glare on the fallen von Reichenbach who was just starting to stand. “You should vet your knights better my Lord, after all if they can not handle Squires surely they aren’t fit to wear their belts.” The Lord made a rude gesture before stalking off to his side of the field.

The herald arrived to greet them shortly after.

“Well done young masters, you have been declared the victors in this bout, Lord von Reichenbach has sent the message that he would pay ten ducats apiece for the return of his horses.” The man grimaced as he spoke, he knew it was a paltry sum meant to insult them. Edward looked at the man, his helm now tucked firmly under one arm.

“Please convey my regrets to Messire von Reichenbach, that we couldn’t possibly part with such fine beasts for less than a hundred ducats per head, for any less would be an insult to his honour and station.” Edward told the man, and the herald grinned in response.

“I shall convey your response to him promptly, my lord.” The man bowed in his saddle and turned away. Davide grinned.

“He’s going to be apoplectic at that.” He said.

“But the herald is protected.” Edward answered.

********************************************

The Tournament’s opening spectacle was a success, with the festivities running until the field had to be lit with great cauldron torches of fire. The melees continued for the entirety of the day and the last were fought in darkness so complete that a horse fell and a knight was killed in a collision. Edward was buoyed up on more wine than he’d ever consumed in his young life. Sir Felix had a table erected behind the lists and good food was prepared. Evidently he’d planned a small feast regardless of the outcome of the day and the Company’s cooks had been working since before sunrise.

As a show of respect and a privilege born of victory, the squires were seated just below the officers at table that night, and the pages took on the usual duties of serving and carving. Davide grinned around at them all as he raised his glass in salute. They all joined him in the wordless toast.

Sir Felix stood, raising his cup to the table as he looked down its length from his place as head of table.

“My friends, today we witnessed greatness.” He began. “Today six of our squires took to the field against a team of belted knights, and through teamwork and no small amount of skill they were victorious. Our foes underestimated you and you made them pay for the mistake.” He chuckled to himself, the deep baritone sound rumbling across the table. “And as I understand it young Edward may have mortally insulted one of the great lords of the mercenary camp.” There was a hearty cheer from the knights on the table and Bjorn slapped Edward on the back so hard he was driven into the table edge. “I have promised you all reward, and you shall receive it, but first I want Davide to stand and come here.” The table went silent as Davide rose from his chair and knelt before Sir Felix.

Sir Jean was at the Captain’s side immediately. His face beamed with pride as he looked upon his squire.

“Davide, you came to us some five years ago as a camp boy to some nameless brigands in the hills near Rabsburg. You have been a stalwart and trustworthy squire and have consistently sought to prove your worth and that proof is all around us.” Sir Felix spoke well and Edward could see tears were already running down Davide’s cheeks. “Your love of drill and training has seen you become a fine lance and an even finer sword, but more than that you have changed the culture of training amongst the squires and it shows. You have all become the equal of Men-at-arms and even knights of other companies due to your devotion and the leadership of Davide.” Sir Felix drew his sword from his hip, four feet of shining steel glinted in the firelit evening. “Birth ennobles one’s soul Davide, but nothing ennobles like the life of arms, regardless of your origins, you have proven yourself of noble spirit, speak your name and station.” Davide looked up and spoke with a voice broken by tears.

“Davide le Vaingre, Squire to Ser Jean le Vaingre.” Felix turned to look at his First Lance, eyebrow raised quizzically. Jean stepped forward placing his hand on Davide’s shoulder as he faced his Captain.

“Davide has been formally adopted into the le Vaingre family, he is my son and heir.” The man said with pride. “He has been my squire for five years and in that time has become a friend and trusted sword brother, now a higher station calls him, for I fear that that of squire no longer fits him.” Felix nodded and raised his sword above his head.

“Then by my right as a knight and my power as Captain of the Great Company.” He said as he lowered the blade to touch each of Davide’s shoulders. “I name you knight, let this be the last blow you receive unanswered.” Felix struck Davide in the jaw with the back of his hand, quick as a snake. A small dribble of crimson blood dripped down Davide’s face from where the blow split his lip, but his eyes shone. “Now rise and greet your peers, Ser Davide le Vaingre.” The table erupted in cheers as Davide was pulled into Jean’s velvet embrace. Edward clapped and roared alongside them. To see his friend knighted was so moving that even he had tears flowing. A quick look at the assembled squires showed he wasn’t the only one. Sir Felix, having re-sheathed his sword, raised his hands for silence once more.

“Please I pray you, give me but a few more moments of your time, I know we are all eager to congratulate Ser Davide on his well-earned elevation and such a great contest today, but he did not stand alone in the Lists, and while I can not yet knight all of you, I do have rewards, Edward de Marche, please join me.” He called. Edward rose and walked to face his Captain, offering a full reverentia on one knee. “Edward, your performance today was exemplary, you have only been with us a few short months and I know how hard it can be to be away from family for the first time.” Edward’s eyes rose to meet Sir Felix’s. “Still you have proven consistently that you are worthy of being a member of this esteemed company, a warrior that would make your father proud.” Edward smiled broadly at the mention of his father. “I saw you take Lord von Reichenbach, and while you did not put him down alone, you looked like one of the Worthies themselves as you charged their line directly at the man. If you continue like this I think a Knighthood will assuredly be in your future, but for now I hope you’ll be happy with a few smaller gifts.” Sir Felix snapped his fingers and an archer brought forth a great black charger into the light.

The animal was huge, at least seventeen hands at the shoulder possibly eighteen, its lines were strong and muscle stood out like slabs on the beast’s haunches. “This steed is one of the finest the von Rabsburg’s have ever trained, I should like you to name him, and I entrust his care to you.” Edward looked upon the creature with awe. It was the finest stallion he had ever seen. “Of course I couldn’t just give you a horse alone, you will find new tack, in your personal colours and matching barding for him at your tent.” Sir Felix grinned at the renewed cheers, it was a princely gift and he knew it. “As well I expect you to ride him when we take to the field together in the Grand Melee, you will ride at my side.” This brought the cheers out in full. Edward almost began to cry again as his new steed’s reins were handed to him.

The great black head butted him as the stallion sniffed him all over. Snorting as he caught scent of the old iron smell of mail on Edward’s chest. He decided that his new rider must be acceptable and began to snuffle in his hair. Edward laughed along with the squires at the horse’s antics. “I shall name you Bohemund, after the third Worthy. After all I have received you in service to Kallamagne, only right that you be named for their patron.” Sir Felix placed a hand on Edward’s shoulder as he rubbed a strong hand down Bohemund’s neck.

“A fine name Edward, I hope he serves you well.”

“How could he not, Sir Felix, he is a marvel of horseflesh.” Edward responded automatically, he realised his gaffe in a heartbeat and his head whipped around to face the captain. “Apologies my lord I did not mean to be so familiar.” Felix chuckled.

“After today I think you’ve earned the right to address me directly Edward.” He answered good naturedly before turning to look at the far end of the table where a messenger had entered their gathering. “What’s this?” He asked absentmindedly.

The messenger was cloaked heavily against the winter evening but he ran with a grace born of long years of practice. He reached Sir Felix before bowing deeply.

“Apologies to disturb your festivities my lord,” He began, “I am looking for the squire Edward de Marche.” Sir Felix motioned to the young squire standing perplexed still holding the reins of his steed. The messenger approached the boy and withdrew a simple leather glove from his cloak. “Apologies young master.” He said as he slapped Edward across the face with it, the tough leather leaving a stinging red mark on his cheek. “Lord Victor von Reichenbach challenges you to meet him with lances of war tomorrow at midday for your insolence he seeks to punish you, and that a squire of so little note should learn respect for his betters.” The messenger was clearly uncomfortable with his duty and Edward smiled encouragingly. Sir Felix however along with Sir Clement were both on their feet and at Edward’s side.

“Challenging a squire with lances of war?” Felix exploded, “This is cowardly, even for him!” Edward raised his hand.

“It’s alright my lord,” He turned to the messenger, “Tell Messire von Reichenbach, I will be happy to meet him, if you could get a message to Master Piotr, can you ask if his Journeyman Konrad might have some war-heads for lances prepared for me?” The messenger nodded and Edward thanked him. “Now that that is settled, my lord I believe you have more squires to reward.”

Clement and Felix both looked at each other and then back at the young squire before them, each was stunned. Slowly approving smiles spread over both faces.

“Then tomorrow young Edward, we shall help you arm and prepare for this challenge.” Sir Felix said. Davide approached now, a new plaque belt had appeared about his hips, it would seem that Sir Jean had known this was coming, Edward thought.

“I’ll be there too.” Davide told him and Edward nodded in gratitude.

“I will be thankful for the assistance.” He told them with relief evident in his voice. “Now back to the feast.” He continued and they returned to their spots, Edward’s new horse being taken to the picket lines by an enthusiastic John. The feast continued and Felix bestowed many more gifts on the squires, he even gave Bjorn land in Rabsburg, ennobling him as surely as a Knighthood would. Edward smiled outwardly at them all, it was truly a great night. Inside, however, Edward’s fear coalesced into a ball that froze his blood. Tomorrow he would face a fully-trained belted knight of high Imperial nobility with a lance of war. Tomorrow, he might very well die.