Authors: Michael Cadnum
The Leopard Sword (18 page)
The sounds from the world were muted by my armor and the wool helmet pad, but even so I could hear the rush of intaken breath in one hundred lungs as something happened, some new event caught the crowd. I turned to face whatever it was.
Sir Jean was riding hard, kicking his charger, the point of his lance aimed steadily at me.
FORTY-FIVE
I had just enough agility and strength to cause the point to miss, crouching and blocking the weapon with my shield, but the weight of the jousting lance was punishing, pressing me down as it passed.
I sought Sir Jean with the point of my sword, spinning and lunging as he thundered by.The heat of his charger captured me, foam and horse sweat spattering my armor as I angled upward with the sword, finding him, driving deep into flesh and bone. He struck me, and struck me again with the butt of his lance, the crashing blows numbing me through the iron.
He fell on me, and knocked me down. We both swayed to our feet. I had a dim, gray vision of my sword belaboring the big knight, and my opponent seizing his own blade and striking marrow-stunning blows in return, bruising my shield arm, punishing my helmet. Blood or mucus streamed from my nose, and my knees buckled under every blow.
But I did not go down again.
And I fought.When I stepped forward, each time, my grip aching as I swung my sword, Sir Jean took a step back, too, unable to stand his ground, blood gleaming on his dark gauntlets.
We battled like that for long moments, my lungs on fire, my sword arm losing all sensation as Sir Jean retreated raggedly, staggering. At last we both collapsed, and for a few heartbeats I did not move.
With no warning Sir Rannulf was there, tugging Sir Jean's helmet free. Rannulf stood over Sir Jean, gasping as much as he could of “Yield your sword, by Jesu.” Tears of relief streamed down his face as he saw me sit up and begin to make an effort to stand once more.
Sir Jean attempted to speak, but he could make no sound. He mouthed, “I yield.”
Rannulf knelt to cut his throat, but I swung to my feet and fell upon Rannulf, wresting the knife from his hand.
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For a long, suffocating moment I tried to tug my helmet free, half deaf and breathing hard, but there was no strength in my hands. I could only see the shape of my name on Edmund's lips as he ran toward me, leaping, free.
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