Chapter Six
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 glare.
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.
“As you probably know,” he continued, “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 he waiting for. 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 before 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, though 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 him 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. 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.
Once again Robert and Granite were off. Again they captured all three rings, narrowing the field to only five young knights.
Carrie, excitement bursting in her veins, gave him a brilliant smile as he rode back to join the other four knights for the fourth tilt. The next tilt, with rings only three quarters of an inch in diameter, would require all of his concentration.
The first two knights thundered down the tilt. The first succeeded in capturing two rings but was disqualified because his time had been greater than seven seconds. The second had captured only one. Number three, the Knight of Bradenton, had failed to capture even one. Nathan Blackwell was next. Nathan sat astride his horse calmly, awaiting his turn. The Knight of Blackwell knew he was good.
The flag dropped and Nathan released Comet into a smooth gallop. He missed the first! Carrie leaned forward to watch. Maintaining his composure, Nathan captured the remaining two rings.
The crowd broke out into loud cheering. The final tilts of the competition had lured everyone back to the sidelines, and Carrie was glad she had staked out her place earlier. From where she stood, she had a clear view of the entire tilt. Watching Robert closely, she saw him single her out from the crowd. Carrie gave him a wide smile of encouragement, nodding to let him know she believed he could do it. She noted with approval his steadying hand on Granite’s neck. The gray gelding was handling the excitement well—now was no time for him to get tense. Robert would have to capture at least two rings for the tournament to continue to the final tilt. If he got three rings, the competition would be over.
The flag flashed once more, and they were off. Granite moved as smoothly as ever, while Robert’s body was held in readiness. The first ring was his, but the second ring remained where it had been. Carrie held her breath as they thundered toward the third and final ring. It was his!
The crowd broke into a roar once more. It had been years since the Knight of Blackwell faced such stiff competition. All eyes were glued to the list.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we will give the Knight of Blackwell and the Knight of Borden a five-minute break, and then we will resume with the final tilt to determine the winner—and the man who will crown the Queen of Love and Beauty tonight!”
The murmur of the crowd swelled to a muffled roar as wagers were placed on who would win the tournament. Few Virginia gentlemen could refuse an opportunity for a friendly bet.
“Your Robert seems to be doing quite well.”
Carrie turned to look into Louisa’s eyes. She didn't particularly like what she saw but had no intention of inviting a confrontation. “Mr. Borden is not my Robert, Louisa. But yes, he is doing quite well. So is Nathan.” She kept her voice casual.
Louisa narrowed her eyes. “Even if your Mr. Borden should win the tournament, you needn’t think he will crown you queen tonight.”
Carrie’s eyes widened in surprise. “I haven’t given that a thought, Louisa.” In truth, all her energy was focused on the possibility of Granite winning the tournament and finally showing his superiority to a Blackwell horse.
“Well,” sniffed Louisa, her expression making it obvious she didn’t believe what Carrie was saying, “I saw you give Mr. Borden that silly lock of your hair.”
Carrie reddened as she struggled to control her anger. She had known Louisa too long and knew exactly what she was thinking. This was her ball tonight, and Louisa intended it to go the way she wanted. Evidently what she wanted was Robert Borden.
Louisa broke into Carrie’s thoughts. “I know he took it. Of course, he’s too much of a gentleman not to. But he received my token first.” She paused with a wicked smile. “And really, Carrie, he’ll want someone much more polished in the social graces—someone who could honor his family name should he someday choose to take a wife.”
Carrie’s lips parted in surprise. Was this what growing up was doing for Louisa? “Really, Louisa, I hardly think—” An announcement from the master of ceremonies cut her off.
“Ladies and gentlemen. The final tilt will now begin.”
Carrie snapped her lips shut and turned toward the competition. Louisa, flashing a haughty, satisfied look, turned with a swish and moved back in the direction of her friends.
“I’d say Granite stands a mighty fine chance of winning this thing, beautiful daughter.”
Carrie, thoughts of Louisa’s nasty comments floating from her mind, turned toward her father with a brilliant smile. “Oh, Father! I’m so glad you came to join me. I believe they can do it. I believe Granite and Robert can win.”
“I certainly hope so,” her father rejoined dryly, “or I’m out quite a bit of money.”
Carrie laughed and swung her eyes back to the course just as the flag waved and Granite charged once more down the course. Robert was riding beautifully. Carrie knew how difficult the final tilt was. A half-inch ring was already a tiny thing, but when it became something you were trying to snag from a charging animal, it seemed to be almost not there.
Carrie stifled a groan when Robert missed the first ring. Steadying himself once more, he zeroed in on the second. He was just feet from the ring when it happened.
A sudden puff of wind caught a handkerchief being held lightly on the sidelines and blew it directly in front of Granite. Startled by the flying square of white, Granite broke stride and stumbled sideways into the post. The agile Thoroughbred managed to regain his footing, but Robert, leaning forward in the saddle to spear the ring, had no chance to regain his balance. The ground rose hard to meet him.
A hush fell over the crowd as Granite thundered on to the end of the tilt, and then slowed, looking around in surprise at the absence of his rider.
“Robert!” Carrie’s voice was the first to break the shocked silence. She tore away from the crowd and ran to where he was struggling to regain his feet.
Her father was right behind her. Putting his strong arms under Robert’s, he helped lift him to his feet. “You all right, son? That was a pretty nasty fall you took. Are you sure you don’t want to sit for a while?”
Robert shook his head and managed a rueful smile. “I’m okay, Mr. Cromwell. Just my pride is a little battered. What happened?”
Carrie explained quickly, aware of the sympathetic murmurs sweeping the crowd. “What a shame. You could have won. I know you could have!”
“What do you mean could have?” Robert asked. “Surely such a thing qualifies me for another chance.”
“It certainly does, young man.” Colonel Benton had walked up while they were talking. “If you feel like riding again, you certainly are entitled to another tilt.”
“How’s Granite? Did he hurt himself on the post?” Robert asked.
Someone led Granite up, and Carrie hurried over to examine him. After several moments she turned to Robert. “He’s fine. He has a little scrape, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering him. He’s a little excited, but he’ll calm down.”
Just then Nathan rode up on Comet. “Say old man, I’m really sorry. That’s a rotten piece of luck. You might have vanquished me.”
Robert looked up with a grin. “I’d say that is still a distinct possibility, Knight Blackwell. Give it your best shot, Nathan. I’m going to try and beat it!”
Nathan laughed. “You’re going to ride again? On this horse?”
Carrie’s eyes flashed. “Certainly. And he will win!” She was aware others shared his feeling that Granite would be too tense after his experience to give Robert a good ride. She knew differently.
Nathan made no effort to hide his dubious expression. He thought for a moment and then leaned forward to regard Robert. “If you’re so determined to ride, why don’t we share Comet? That way the end will be the result of our spearing skill. I’d hate to take unfair advantage of you.”
Robert looked at him in surprise. “That’s quite a generous offer.”
Carrie held her breath as Robert’s brow creased in consideration. Comet was a fine horse, and she would probably give him as good a ride as she would give Nathan. Granite was still rolling his eyes and moving nervously. She knew Robert wanted to win, but it was important to her that Granite win as well.
Robert turned to her and asked quietly, “Do you think Granite will be okay?”
Carrie never hesitated. “He will be fine. He’s gotten you this far. Let him take you all the way.”
Robert gazed at her for a moment and nodded. “I’ll ride Granite, Nathan. Thank you for your quite generous offer, however. Good luck.”
“Good luck to you, too, Borden. You’re going to need it.” Smiling, Nathan turned away and rode to the starting line.
Carrie put her hand on Robert’s arm. “Talk to him and stroke his left shoulder. He loves it, and it always works to calm him down.”
Robert nodded and leaped back into the saddle. Then, leaning down, he gazed into Carrie’s sparkling emerald eyes. “This one’s for you.”
Carrie watched as he returned to the starting line. She couldn’t help the flush that rose on her face or the thrill his words had given her, but now was not the time to analyze her feelings.
With a flash of the flag, Nathan was off. Thundering down the tilt, he missed the first ring. He missed the second. He grazed, but missed the third. Shaking his head, he turned at the end of the tilt and rode back to the starting line.
Robert moved Granite toward the line. The big gelding had responded beautifully to Carrie’s remedy. Granite was relaxed and ready. The crowd applauded as they approached the line, and then fell silent.
The flag flashed and they were off. Granite was steady as they flew toward the first ring. Missed. Carrie could almost feel Granite tense as they approached the second ring. Leaning forward, Robert focused on the ring. At the last second, Granite shifted and veered just slightly. Carrie groaned as Robert focused on the last ring. She clasped her hands tightly, all her wishing directed toward the pair, and groaned again when they missed it. Releasing her breath in a sigh of disappointment, she prepared for another tilt, but realized the crowd was suddenly cheering wildly. Puzzled, Carrie looked around.
“The victory goes to the Knight of Borden—by one ring!”
Carrie’s eyes flashed to Robert and Granite. Robert held the sword up to his face, seemingly as surprised as she was. Suddenly she understood. She had been so intent on Granite’s misstep that she had missed seeing the ring slide onto Robert’s sword. He obviously had not realized it until just now either.
Grinning, Robert held up his trophy and leaned down to give Granite a big hug. “You did it, old man. I don’t know how, but you did it.” Granite swung his head proudly as Robert guided him toward the platform.
Carrie was there waiting. “I knew the two of you could do it. Congratulations!”
Robert grinned. “Thanks, but you have only Granite to congratulate.”
“Oh, Mr. Borden, you were quite the chivalrous knight out there. I was so proud it was my token you were carrying close to your heart.”
Carrie stepped aside as Louisa swept passed her to gaze up at Robert.
“Thank you, Miss Blackwell. Most of the credit goes to Granite, however. He is quite a horse.”
“Yes, I’m sure he is,” she responded dismissively.
“All knights move forward to the judging platform please, for the awards.” Colonel Benton’s voice boomed out over the excited chatter of the crowd.
Robert nodded pleasantly. “I must be going, ma’am.”
Louisa allowed a pretty pout to form on her well-shaped lips. “If you must. I’ll be looking forward to the ball tonight, kind knight.”
Robert looked after her thoughtfully as she swept away.
Carrie turned away into the crowd. She had gotten the victory she wanted. She must be content with that.