The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(170)
“No doubt,” Reuben said and thought, Poor Lorenzo d’Ortigia. But he had volunteered for this, as had they all, and besides, Tomasso would not go so far as to crack his head open. Probably.
“Knights of the Empire! The hour has come!”
The shout from in front of the stands made all eyes, Reuben’s included, turn towards the herald. “Prepare yourselves!”
Reuben was prepared. More than prepared, in fact. Meeting the gaze of Adrian Rakowski over the soon-to-be battlefield, he grinned. His hand grasped hold of the hilt of his sword in eager anticipation.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Reuben saw the herald raise a horn to his lips. The pursuivant standing close to the rope that cut Reuben off from the center of the courtyard raised a knife to the thin barrier. At the opposite end of the courtyard, beside the other team, another pursuivant did the same.
“May the battle begin!”
The long, clear tone of a horn rang out over the courtyard. To tumultuous cheers from the crowd, the ropes dropped, freeing the knights and their chargers. Reuben pressed his heels into Ajax’s sides.
“Hüa!”
Reuben felt Sir Tomasso beside him as he charged forward. He didn’t give another thought to the other two fighters on his team as they surged towards the enemy. He only had eyes for the giant Pole galloping towards him and the huge battle-ax clutched in his hands.
“For Limburg! For the Emperor!” he shouted.
Behind him, the crowd exploded into another cheer.
“B?d? zgra? jaja!!” the Pole roared.
Reuben understood Polish quite well, and he thought that rather unlikely. Pressing his steed to go even faster, Reuben tensed his muscles in preparation. He would have to be fast. That was his only chance. If the Pole got one blow in, he was most likely dead. He would have to be very, very fast.
Racing closer, the Sir Adrian raised his ax.
Reuben raised his sword in response.
“Raaah!” the Pole shouted, and his battle-ax came down. Some words needed no translation.
Reuben swung his sword forward—then abruptly ducked, letting the blow swipe over his head. With his full force behind the blow, the Pole overbalanced and nearly plummeted out of the saddle. Grinning, Reuben gave his mount a good whack on the ass with the flat of his blade, making it rear.
“Yaah!”
Desperately, Sir Adrian clutched the reins, trying to calm his horse, to stay in the saddle, to do anything but fall to the ground. But Reuben had other plans.
Wham!
His first blow hit the giant knight from the left, nearly hurling him down.
Wham!
The second hit him from the right, robbing him of what little balance he had left. With another furious roar of rage, the Pole tried to turn his mount around to face his foe, but both horse and rider were huge and lumbering—not the right material for quick maneuvers. Reuben, on the other hand…
Wham!
Catching him right against the side of the helmet, the third and final blow catapulted Sir Adrian out of the saddle. He slammed to the ground, eliciting another round of thunderous cheers from the crowd. Reuben grinned. This was almost too easy! If only he could whack that boorish pig over the head, right there where he lay in the dirt…!
Patience, he reprimanded himself. A knight may never strike an enemy while he is on the ground. And he should always fight on equal terms.
Swinging down out of the saddle, Reuben strode towards Sir Adrian. “Up on your feet, Sir Knight! We have a fight to finish!”
Snarling, the Pole braced himself against the ground and pushed. He came up like a cork out of a bottle. Suppressing a curse, Reuben jumped back, barely managing to evade the blade of his enemy’s ax. That big oaf was faster than he had any right to be.
“All right!” Reuben growled. “Let’s do this!”
Angling his body to present a smaller target, he edged closer to the Pole. The big knight wasn’t so careful. He lunged, and this time, expecting it, Reuben had no problems evading the attack. Darting forward, he stabbed and would have impaled the Pole’s exposed armpit if the man hadn’t twisted out of the way.
But now he was standing sideways—not a good position for someone armed with a battle-ax. Reuben’s sword, on the other hand…
Grinning, he stabbed again!
“Aaarh!”
Blood spurted! Reuben breathed in the invigorating smell of impending victory, ducked under the Sir Adrian’s flailing arm, and delivered another blow, this time to the man’s right arm. He screamed again and nearly dropped the ax.
Whirling around, he struck a blow that would have knocked Reuben’s head off had he still been there. But Reuben was long gone. Confused, the Pole looked around, searching for his enemy.
“Hello there.”
Darting out from behind Sir Adrian’s huge horse, Reuben sprang forward, slamming his blade against the handle of the ax. It was severed clean in the middle, and with a dull clank, the blade of the ax dropped to the ground. Dumbfounded, Sir Adrian stared down at his decapitated weapon.
“Do you surrender, Sir Knight?”
“Yaaar!”
With a bestial roar, the mountainous warrior threw himself at Reuben, stabbing at him with the chopped-off ax handle. It slammed into Reuben’s chest. Although it slid off his breastplate, the impact nearly knocked him off his feet.
“I suppose that means no,” he grunted. “Very well, then! Let’s have at it!”