V. O, Glory of the Tournament! (5)
V. O, Glory of the Tournament! (5)
Behind the inn where Keldric and Sir Henri had set foot, the inn called the Wind Rose, there was a suitable open space in the stable yard.
Sir Henri and Sir Alan headed there. Sir Alan, who had been staying at this inn first, strode ahead, his steps long and brisk.
Keldric watched Sir Alan stomp away with a distinctly uneasy feeling.
Sir Alan seemed to have "I'm furious" written all over the back of his head.
And he had every right to be. The situation had gone beyond anyone's control because Sir Henri had suddenly charged in while they were trying to exchange peaceful greetings.
Keldric approached Sir Henri, who was huffing along just as angrily as Sir Alan, and whispered.
"Sir. Are you insane? Why did you suddenly do that?"
"Do what? Sir Keldric. Britas knights have to be beaten down so we can establish the pecking order!"
"No, what in the..."
"Besides, those Hawksworth curs have insulted our house most grievously."
"Grievously insulted?"
"Yes! Can you even imagine what those Hawksworth wretches did when they came to our house?"
Sir Henri ground his teeth furiously. He was grinding them so hard that Keldric could clearly hear the grating sound.
Now that things had reached this point, Keldric became rather curious about the reason Sir Henri had flew off the handle.
Sir Henri was a pathetic knight who chased only women and had no sense of money, but he was not the sort to suddenly crush another knight's honor and offer insult without cause.
For Sir Henri to be this angry, Keldric suspected that House Hawksworth must have done something on the level of killing a member of House Candillon.
"If an honorable sir like yourself is this angry, there must be a fitting reason. Though I'll have to hear it to know what it is."
"I'll explain it to you."
Sir Henri's explanation that followed went like this.
The Barony of Candillon, situated northeast of the Kingdom of the Franks, was famous for producing high-quality grapes, and it was a fief that produced wines renowned even in the surrounding region.
Perhaps because that fame had reached the Kingdom of Britas across the sea, several knights from the Kingdom of Britas were also invited to the Baron of Candillon's forty-ninth birthday banquet.
And among them was the previous head of House Hawksworth, who had come escorting the son of the Earl of Bankshire.
"Our house's wine is not something to be judged by Britas curs. All they had to do was guzzle it down to their hearts' content, marvel at the taste, and then go home!"
"..."
Keldric was already uneasy.
He'd thought he'd just hear the reason for the duel, but a story veering off the rails from the very start drained the strength right out of him.
"Sir Keldric. Are you listening?"
"...Yeah. I'll listen for now. So?"
"But then, that scoundrel of a Hawksworth knight took a sip of the wine, and did he not say, 'Candillon wine seems like it would suit the table of common folk quite well'!"
"Ah, um..."
"What's more, he even said the bread was too tough! That bread was originally meant to be dipped in wine before eating to make it soft!"
To sum it up, the former head of House Hawksworth had attended a House Candillon banquet, and at the dinner, he had subtly belittled Candillon wine by comparing it to cheap wine.
Moreover, he had even pointed out that the bread served at the banquet was tough, so the crime of daring to disgrace House Candillon was one deserving of death.
'Lunatic.'
Keldric shook his head from side to side.
It wasn't that Sir Henri's words were incomprehensible.
In this era, if a noble house held a banquet, the courtesy was naturally to serve only the most delicious and high-class food.
Since it was the food going into the mouths of the honored guests visiting the house, it served as the representation of the house hosting the banquet.
On top of that, the Barony of Candillon was a grape-producing region famous for the variety of grapes used in its wine.
It might indeed feel insulting for the finest wine carefully selected by a house famous for its wine to be compared to the sort of wine common folk guzzled straight from the bottle while scratching their backsides.
The bread was along the same lines.
Since they were famous for wine, they would have naturally served bread that paired well with wine. To just tear into it and say, "The bread is tough, so it's no good," was discourteous.
In conclusion, the reason Sir Henri had hurled insults the moment he heard the name of House Hawksworth was, in its own way, legitimate.
But that was only by the standards of this age. To Keldric's eyes, it was simply an insane reason.
He'd worked so hard to entertain them at the banquet, but they openly disgraced him by saying the food served was tasteless and low quality? That was enough to feel truly insulted.
Since it's a place famous for wine, they'd brought out bread that pairs well with wine, but they didn't even know how to eat it and called it tasteless? That, too, was an unforgivable act.
But if someone asked whether that justified drawing weapons and demanding a fight the moment they met, Keldric felt he couldn't possibly answer.
Nor could Keldric understand why the matter with the former head of Hawksworth was being pursued against his descendant.
"Anyway, Sir Keldric. Today is the day I shall finally settle that humiliating moment. I must show that brat who doesn't even know the taste of wine what's what."
"Sure. I'll be rooting for you."
"Thank you kindly. Your support will be a great strength to me."
It wasn't Keldric doing the fighting anyway.
Worrying about others had its limits. In three days' time, Keldric himself would be clashing and fighting in the tournament grounds just the same.
Keldric had his own problems to worry about. This time, it was right to just watch from the sidelines to a reasonable degree.
If he interfered on the pointless pretense of mediating, he might only earn the resentment of Sir Henri and Sir Alan instead.
Even though they had both named him as their witness, if he pried too deeply into their private affairs, that in itself would be an insult.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
The open space behind the inn, next to the stable, was neither large nor small.
Inside the small fence, there was nothing but hay, so once that was cleared, it was an ideal place for two knights to duel.
To Keldric, it almost looked like a place that had been made for this purpose from the start.
"Everyone step back. It is an honorable duel between knights."
It was neither glamorous nor was the reason anything but petty for something called an honorable duel, but Keldric glossed over it like that for now as he withdrew, taking the attendants and Sir Alan's squire with him.
Then, Sir Henri and Sir Alan, who had at some point donned their respective helms, stepped out into the middle of the clearing with their weapons.
Sir Alan's helm was a great helm similar to Keldric's.
From within that tin-can-like helm, a muffled voice rang out.
"Sir Keldric. I am ready. But I can't say the same for that petty, cowardly cur from the Kingdom of the Franks."
"Your tongue wags well enough. Though I wonder if it still will after you're defeated and pissing yourself."
Keldric wore a slightly fed-up expression as he took a step forward.
The area around the makeshift arena was quiet.
A few people who had been drinking in the inn came out to watch, but he had just sent them packing for the honor of the knight who was about to lose here.
"Hmm. Since the duel has been arranged so abruptly, I'll explain the rules briefly."
No cowardly strikes, no killing the opponent, no kicks to the groin, no gouging eyes, certain lethal joint locks are forbidden, ignoring an opponent's surrender is forbidden, and ignoring the instructions of Keldric, the witness to the duel, is also forbidden...
A stream of rules that would make one's tongue click poured out.
Keldric thought this was enough, but since the two knights radiating killing intent at each other were walking deadly weapons, thoroughness was necessary.
"...These are the rules for this duel. Any objections?"
"None."
"Nor I. Let's start at once."
Keldric nodded uneasily and stepped out of the arena.
He was wearing armor on the pretense of mediating the duel, as was only proper, but he didn't want to get caught up in the fight that was about to break out.
"This duel is a glorious occasion created by God, between House Hawksworth and House Candillon—"
"Wait, wait! Sir Keldric! Why do you name that Britas knight's house first?"
"...to resolve the discord between House Candillon and House Hawksworth. May the honorable knights of the two houses taking part in this duel respect each other's feats of arms and elevate the honor of their houses."
Both knights simply nodded without reply.
The bearing of the knights, weapons in hand, was so utterly menacing that even the attendants, who must have seen their masters fight many times, looked slightly pale.
"Sirs, draw your swords! Fight with your honor on the line!"
The duel began the moment Keldric cried out.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
The first to move was Sir Henri.
Resting his messer on his shoulder and leading with his shield, Sir Henri closed the distance aggressively with bold footwork that contrasted with Sir Alan, who was cautiously feeling him out.
'Oh...'
Keldric inwardly admired what he saw.
He'd assumed there wasn't much to him when sizing him up by instinct alone, but Sir Henri had his stance properly set in his own way.
Having roamed the Empire for three years, he must have joined territorial wars several times.
Besides, he was no son of some impoverished knightly house, but the son of the Baron of Candillon, so he had undoubtedly trained in a fine environment since childhood.
"Alisa. Who do you think will win?"
"The outcome of a duel is known only to God. I dare not presume to judge."
"For someone who says that, you're watching with tremendous interest."
"..."
Just as Keldric said, Alisa's expression as she stood to his right watching the duel looked thoroughly fascinated.
Duels between knights weren't rare, but in most cases, they were events that only nobles or those directly involved could watch.
If lowborn people or uninvolved parties watched and the loser was besmirched by rumors in a bad way, there was no greater, more complete disgrace.
Alisa was one thing, but Sir Alan's squire, standing to Keldric's left, was also watching the duel with highly intrigued eyes.
"You don't seem afraid."
"Ah, honorable Sir Keldric of House Bellaf."
"Are you not afraid of Sir Alan being defeated?"
"I am fine. Because there is no way Sir Alan would be defeated."
The squire's loyalty was quite tremendous. The young boy, his eyes sparkling, gazed at Sir Alan with eyes full of admiration.
"Regardless of victory or defeat, I hope Sir Henri and Sir Alan fight honorably."
"Thank you for your kind words, Sir Keldric."
Keldric turned his gaze back to the dueling ground.
Sir Henri and Sir Alan were facing off at a distance of about three paces.
Sir Henri had closed the distance rapidly by leading with his shield, but he had not been able to get any closer.
"Come on, you cowardly Frankish knight bastard!"
The reason for that was the weapon Sir Alan used.
It was a weapon called a poleaxe, an unusual polearm roughly the height of Sir Alan, with an axe blade attached.
The blade was too small to call it a two-handed axe, yet it wasn't a spear either since it could be used to both thrust and cut.
Its length wasn't so long that foot soldiers couldn't use it, but it was sufficiently long in a footman-against-footman situation.
This was why conscripted serfs and mercenaries preferred the spear.
For, in any fight, the difference begins with the reach.
As Sir Henri inched about maintaining distance and shifting the direction of his messer this way and that, Sir Alan boldly swung his poleaxe.
WHOOSH—!
"Oh..."
The attack, which cut through the air with a heavy sound, glanced off the shield regrettably. Though, it seemed that wouldn't last long.
The poleaxe, fitted with an axe blade, could easily split the shield, and if that happened, Sir Henri's means of defense would vanish.
Keldric enjoyed watching the two of them fight.
He'd been trying to break it up just moments ago, but now that the duel was underway, there was nothing to do but watch.
'Damn. Why is this so entertaining.'
Keldric felt he understood, just a little, why knights were crazy about fighting.
If he had to name the two most entertaining things in the world, they would be watching a fire and watching a fight. Fighting yourself is nice, but watching others fight is far more entertaining.
The duel flowed in an increasingly riveting direction.
After deflecting several attacks with his shield, Sir Henri finally grew impatient about its durability and boldly closed the distance.
"Hyaah!"
Clang!
A thrust from the messer, delivered in a textbook ox guard, scraped hard across Sir Alan's helm as it passed.
Sir Henri's intended target had been Sir Alan's shoulder. He had meant to stab the shoulder hard and make him lose the strength in the hand gripping his weapon.
The problem was that Sir Alan had twisted his body away just barely, sending the attack wide off the mark.
But Sir Alan, having forcibly wrenched his body, was also off balance, and the two of them, now in close quarters, ended up entangled on the ground, which was covered in hay and mud.
"You son of a bitch! You dare insult me!"
"That's my line! I'll send you to meet your whore of a mother!"
"Is that so! You filthy Frankish knight bastard! I'll make you vomit up even the wine you drank yesterday!"
Sir Henri trying to force him to drop the poleaxe, and Sir Alan enduring and baiting him into a grapple.
Their duel had, before they knew it, transformed into a petty, squalid, mud-wrestling match of combat wrestling. Words inquiring after each other's parents flew out without a moment's hesitation.
And yet, that was far more provocative and entertaining.
Sir Alan's squire watched with trembling eyes as his master rolled around on the caked mud, and Sir Henri's attendants were immersed in the duel with expressions as if they had forgotten to breathe.
The same was true for Keldric and Alisa.
"Oooh...!"
"Oh my, good heavens..."
It was just two grown men covered in slabs of metal rolling around in the mud, but it was so fascinating because it was a sight one couldn't easily see normally.
"That's it! Sir Henri! Break his arm just like that!"
"Ah, aah! Sir Alan! You must break free! No!"
"Sir Henri! Kick him in the gear!"
"That's a foul!"
"Sir Alan! Trip him with your leg and throw him down!"
The strong smell of horse dung wafting from the stable next door continued throughout the sordid duel.
Whether they fought on or not, Keldric simply kept watching the two of them.
"Pick up your weapons! No, don't pick them up! Fight just like this!"
For, in any fight, watching was the best thing of all.