A Dishonorable Knight(68)

Gareth grinned broadly and said, "Cynan, that's wonderful! Congratulations!"

"No, listen to me. I must be around to be a father to this child. I can't be running off to each new adventure like I've been doing since we were kids. Enid has put up with it these three years we've been married, but I won't put her through it anymore--not with a babe on the way. This next battle I will fight because I have to and Enid agrees with me. But I will be more cautious than I ever have been. And if wondering about Elena's true loyalties makes me suspicious, then I'm sorry."

Gareth stared in open-mouthed surprise at Cynan. Never had he heard his usually buoyant friend so serious or so earnest. And though he thought Cynan was wrong about Elena, he could understand the motive behind his worry.

"I think Da said I was not to leave for three days. I promise you I will discover whether Elena's rose be white or red and we will deal with her accordingly, alright?"

Cynan nodded. "Thank you."

Trying to lighten the mood, Gareth said, "Now let's find those two--I could eat an entire flock!"

***

Elena looked around furtively and when she saw no one was looking, she licked her fingers, leaned over, and wiped her mouth on the hem of her dress. Turning to Bryant, she took the second skewer of meat and went to work on it.

"Look, my lady," Bryant said. "The game is going to start." Elena looked up from her meal to see a young brawny man step up onto one of the stumps, a stout rope in hand.

"Who's foolish enough to think they can pull me off the Viking stump?" he called out.

The crowd, which had quickly gathered, looked around at each other. Within seconds, a wiry man with an unruly shock of black hair pushed his way through.

"You know your boasting always gets you in trouble, Aldred," the wiry man said.

"I doubt there's any trouble you could give me, Owain," the brawny man shot back with a laugh.

Owain bent to pick up the other end of the rope before climbing on the opposite stump. A third man stepped out of the crowd and appointed himself the marshal.

"Are you good men ready?" he asked.

Both men nodded, looks of anticipation on their faces. "Very well, then. On the count of three. One, two, three!"

Hand over hand, the opponents pulled the slack of the rope in quickly until it was taut between them. Then the tug of war began. Aldred pulled so hard his opponent was forced to give up some slack or be pulled off his stump. He gave up several feet of rope so quickly that Owain, still pulling, nearly fell off the back of the stump. The crowd shouted encouragement to both contestants as Owain struggled to maintain his balance and then laughed as he tottered and fell off.

"See?" Bryant whispered in Elena's ear. "That is strategy."

Elena nodded understandingly. She was intrigued by this simple game. Again she wondered if women ever played it, if they would play it this evening.

Aldred defeated two more opponents, one by pulling the rope clean out of his opponent's hands, the other by simply jerking the rope, and the man on the other end, forward.

"Now if he had given up some rope," Bryant explained. "He could have stayed on the stump longer. Some men just hate to give an inch, though."

Aldred flexed and bent his fingers while he waited for another challenger.

Finally, a man stepped out. Elena's eyes widened and she fervently hoped he would not notice her sitting on the edge of the crowd.

The tall blonde sailor grabbed up his end of the rope and leapt onto the stump. As soon as the count was called, he snatched up most of the slack and began giving short, sharp tugs to the rope. Within seconds, he toppled his brawny opponent and was calling for another.

Elena forgot to eat as she watched the muscles in his arms and back flex and release as he pulled man after man off his stump. Sweat made his thin shirt cling to his ribs and Elena could not tear her eyes away.

"There you are!" Gareth shouted. Elena jumped and dropped the stick of lamb in her lap. With a disgusted sigh, she quickly snatched up the stick and rubbed at the grease spot on her skirt. Wonderful, she thought. Each day away from court and courtly manners was taking its toll on her. Soon she would look and act like a common scullery maid. Before too long she'd have snarled hair and a toothless grin. Turning to glare at Gareth, she was further surprised by his exuberant grin and sparkling eyes. She could not remember seeing him so relaxed or happy before.

"You're certainly in high spirits this evening," she said.