sword,” was the proud reply.
“Secondary skills?” the Crusader Knight demanded sharply.
“Lance, mace and axe.” Was that sweat running down his back?
“You are a talented soldier,” the Crusader Knight said with a small smile. “Your application is accepted by the tournament committee, John Swiftsword. What colors will you wear when you fight?”
“Green and gold,” John said. Green for Lara’s eyes, and gold for her hair. He would honor his daughter in this fashion.
The Crusader Knight marked it down on the application, and then wrote in large letters across the face of the parchment, ACCEPTED. “I shall look forward to seeing you on tournament day. You will draw a number now to determine the day upon which you will do battle.” He held out a velvet bag to the applicant.
John plunged his hand into the bag and drew out a tile. He handed it to the Crusader Knight. “It says one,” he noted.
“Then you fight on the first day. That is good. You will have time to rest up for the final battle. Congratulations! Step aside. Next!”
He stepped away from the table half-dazed, and walked into the crowds pressing in about the square. Suddenly he felt a small hand slip into his, and he knew at once it was his daughter’s. “Were you able to see?” he asked, not even bothering to look at her.
“I was right up front, Da. You looked so lordly, and your voice was so strong and sure. I was very proud. I’m sorry Mikhail wasn’t old enough to see this day, but you will tell him about it when he is, won’t you?”
“Aye, lass, I will. And I will tell him of his half faerie sister whose beauty made it all possible,” John Swiftsword said softly. “I have not said it before, Lara. Thank you.” Then stopping, he bent and kissed her smooth forehead.
“I am not unhappy, Da. I know my mother broke your heart. But the beauty I have inherited from her will atone for her sin, and we will both begin new lives. I am happy.”
“You are certain of that, Lara? I could not bear if you were unhappy. Aye, Ilona broke my heart, but your loving sweetness has healed my hurt long since.”
“I am happy, Da, I swear it! And besides,” she teased him, “it is too late to go back now, for I doubt the mercer would accept your tunic in exchange for his cloth.”
He laughed. Lara could always wheedle him from the deepest doldrums, and he had been very torn over these last months. He had fretted like an old woman, but now he must release all his crochets and fears. Lara was right. It was much too late to go back. He must clear his mind and heart of all darkness. In six days the tourney would begin. And while everyone was certain that he would win his place among the finalists, nothing in life, John Swiftsword knew, was ever a certainty.
Chapter 3
BUT HE DID WIN as they had all predicted. He had slept little the night before, but from excitement, not from nervousness. He rose early, bathed and then he had gone off to the tournament field where Sir Ferris, Sir Ajax and Sir Iven awaited him in a small tent. He had checked his weapons, and lifted each of Aristaeus’s hooves to be certain they were clean, and free of stones that might impede the animal’s performance. The three old knights had helped him to dress. The call to the joust had sounded, and he had mounted his warhorse, ridden out and prevailed over all his opponents. It had been, he thought, shockingly simple. There had been no time to look for his wife and family in the stands. He would not have known where Gaius Prospero’s box was anyway.
When she awoke on the morning of the tournament, Lara had found her father already gone. Her stepmother was weeping softly in a corner by the fire. “What is the matter, Susanna?” she inquired anxiously.
“What if he loses?” Susanna said sobbing. “Then it has all been for naught!”
Irritation pricked at Lara’s nerves, but she restrained from shouting at Susanna for even considering such a thing, and bringing bad luck on her father. “Da will prevail,” she told her stepmother. “Do not think to bring ill fortune on him, Susanna. Now we must bathe quickly. Our litters will be here shortly, I am certain.”
No sooner had they finished bathing than Mistress Mildred arrived to help them with Mikhail. She was dressed in her finest gown, for Susanna had invited her to accompany them. “Go about your business, my dears,” she said. “I will dress the laddie and have him ready. You’ve nursed him, Susanna?”
“Aye, he’s content,” Susanna replied. She hurried to don the beautiful gown Lara had made for her. It was of lilac silk brocade with wide flared sleeves with dagged edges. The waist was high, and beneath the bosom Lara had embroidered a band with a swirling design of silver and gold. The neckline had a simple white silk collar. It was elegant, but not overdone. On her dark head, Susanna would wear a heart-shaped headdress. Her hair was done up beneath a crispinette of fine gold mesh.
A knock sounded and Mistress Mildred hurried to answer it. “’Tis too early for the litters,” she grumbled, but opening the door she discovered a large woman with a basket.
“I am Tania. I was sent by my master to do the slave Lara’s hair,” she said.
“Come in! Come in! The girl is just out of her bath,” Mistress Mildred said. “Lara, here is a woman to fix your lovely hair. Gaius Prospero sent her,” she called.
“I was not expecting such kindness,” Lara said, coming forward wrapped in a drying sheet.
“Kindness? Hah!” Tania scoffed. “You are being displayed to future buyers, girl, and nothing more. You must be shown at your best. Sit down at that table. I will need it to hold my tools. You will not garb yourself until your hair is fashioned. I have seen the gown, and since it fastens at the shoulders you can step into it.”
Lara sat down, and Tania began brushing out the girl’s long hair until it was a smooth thick sheet. Standing back she considered her next course of action. Reaching into the basket she drew out strings of beads. They were tiny gold, silver, crystal and pearls strung on almost invisible gold chains. Tania took a hank of Lara’s silvery-gold hair and fashioned it into a thin braid. Then she wove several more narrow plaits into which she fastened the slender gold chains studded with their beads of silver and gold. These she interspersed with the strings of little pearls and sparkling crystals, weaving them into the tops of the braids which lay atop a background of Lara’s thick hair.
“Let us get you dressed now and I will finish my work,” Tania said.
The gown Gaius Prospero had sent for Lara was simple and virginal, yet sensual and exotic. It was sleeveless, fastening at the shoulders and having a round neckline that lay at the base of her collarbone. The material was of creamy silk, diaphanous and shot through with gold. Her entire young body was quite visible. Susanna brought the garment forward.
“Wait,” Tania said, and she reached into her basket. “Her nipples must be rouged to draw the eye to them.” She drew forth a small round container, removed its lid, and pulling away Lara’s drying sheet briskly colored the young girl’s nipples. “Give it a moment to dry and then we will put your gown on,” she said.
Lara’s pale cheeks grew rosy with her blushes.
“Should a virgin’s breasts be so displayed?” Susanna asked nervously.
“The girl is to be a Pleasure Woman, mistress. Today our master will display her to her best advantage to gain the highest price. Already the rumors abound about her faerie beauty. And I can see that none will be disappointed. She has a lovely bosom and it must be shown. Come, they should be dry now. Quickly! The garment.”
Lara could tell by the stunned looks of Mistress Mildred and Susanna that her gown was everything Gaius Prospero intended it to be. She wished there was a glass in the hovel as there had been at Gaius Prospero’s home. She had removed the hair from her pubic mound, as her master had instructed her to do. Her mound seemed somehow plumper without its covering of golden