Balin and Columbine (A Children of the May Novella - Book 1.5b)

Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Knight Invisible vs. the Knight of the Ice

And so, as had been obvious from the earliest rounds, the Knight Invisible and the Knight of the Ice won through to face each other in the final joust of King Pellam’s Whitsuntide tourney. It was a result that some of the crowd found disappointing.

The consensus among those who weren’t as in-the-know as the elderly pedant was that the invisible knight’s use of his magical armour in competition was both unfair to his rivals, and harmful to the spectacle of the joust. Whilst an invisible competitor provided an interesting variation once or twice during a day, to be constantly searching out signs in the dirt for the man’s horse, and then have the climactic moments of a battle disappear from view as Sir Garlon made contact with his rival, was not ideal. Though the pedant argued that a true connoisseur of the joust generally had his eyes trained on the dirt anyway, as that was where you found the clearest view of the proceedings, the details and the tell-tale signs, the casual fans, the once-a-year joust attenders, made it clear that they would rather be able to see what they had paid to see: a good fight and, if they were lucky, a little bit of blood.

Not that they were likely to see the Knight of the Ice shed any blood. Balin had driven eight good tilts that day, and unhorsed five opponents, accidentally killing one. He had yet to receive so much as chip to his icy armour, or a scratch on his glassy shield in return. He did, however, provide a bit of spectacle. The poorer parts of the crowd had warmed to him when he accepted the favour of a simple serving girl to go beside that of Lady Nemone of the Lake. The way his armour gave off water vapour, as if the ice was steaming, provided a very fine, unusual effect, particularly when the vapour interacted with the strange glow of the Spear of Longius at the centre of the tilting ground.

It wasn’t only the servant-class who had taken to the Lady of the Lake’s champion. Up in the lower reaches of the king’s presence, where the noble girls were sat, one Bellina Saunce Pité had determined to support the icy competitor over the man who had been chosen as her future husband. She was particularly angry with the Knight Invisible because he had not done her the courtesy of coming up to beg her favour. Even as the day reached its climax she still sat with the golden ribbons of her favour scrunched below her chair.

‘Perhaps he did come up for it and you didn’t see him,’ said stupid, fat Lady Annow, which prompted Dame Maledisant to arch her eyebrows disparagingly and launch into a long essay on the failings of men-folk.

Bellina was just glad that the inconsiderateness of Sir Garlon had provided something to distract her from her fears, in particular the terror that Dame Maledisant might discover that the bard who tried to steal the Spear of Longius was none other than Elia. Maledisant had been good enough to savage those girls who remarked on Bellina’s misfortune in having been chosen to dance by a thieving traitor; if it became known that her own servant had been Balin’s ally in the attempted burglary, Bellina did not think she could live with the social stigma.

Further up in the stands, closer to the king, were the small group of magicians who had come to see the tournament. In front of the two daughters of the Lake sat the Lady of the Slates and Merlin, both of whom had their own reason to be disappointed. Neither of them were particularly looking forward to the final bout; the finale they had planned out was a very different one. Now that the boy Balin was dead, their rival plans to release the Spear of Longius from its home of centuries and take it for themselves were foiled for the time being. The two watched the final show before the last fight, a burlesque of the famous battle between Prince Accolon of Caerleon and King Arthur, performed by dwarves. Neither Merlin nor lady Helen enjoyed the spectacle as much as King Pellam and his queen. The comical way in which the dwarf playing Sir Gawain fell off his horse was uncannily as it had been in real life, thought Merlin, but the whole scene was rather disrespectful to the puppet-king he had guided to the throne of Britain. As far as Merlin was concerned only he was allowed to mock Arthur.