Opposite the special gallery was another stand. It was of the same height, situated on the west side of the tournament grounds. It was not as luxurious as the special gallery, but perhaps even more colorful.
A group of very beautiful, handpicked young men and women, dressed in vibrant and gaudy red and green outfits, stood in a circle around an equally colorful chair.
Banners of various shapes were arrayed there. Some depicted wounded, burning, or bleeding hearts; others showed bows and arrows or other symbols of Cupid’s triumph. Amidst the banners was an embroidered streamer that informed the spectators this was the seat of honor reserved for the "Queen of Beauty and Love."
By now, spectators of all sorts had swarmed in and were scrambling for their seats. Naturally, numerous arguments broke out over who had the right to which spot.
Some disputes could be settled by the sergeants maintaining order with just a few words. For the more difficult ones, they had to act as if they were about to use their war axes or swords to suppress the quarrel before it would quiet down.
There were also more belligerent individuals who refused to back down, and these had to be adjudicated by a marshal of the lists or a couple of guard inspectors.
A mounted guard of about twenty Knights, fully armed and on tall horses, patrolled back and forth through the grounds, forcing the crowd to maintain good order.
The stands gradually filled with Knights and Nobility, all in ceremonial attire. However, their magnificent robes paled in comparison to the even more vibrant and gorgeous dresses of the ladies.
In terms of numbers, there were even more women than men. They flocked to the event, even though it was generally considered a bloody and dangerous amusement that wouldn’t bring them much pleasure.
The open space below the stands also quickly filled with well-to-do commoners from town and country who, due to low self-esteem, poverty, or uncertain identity, did not dare to presume upon higher seats. It went without saying that it was among these people that resentful and intractable quarrels were most likely to break out.
There were neither too many nor too few participating Knights—about eighty in all.
Although it was a team mêlée, the tournament grounds couldn’t accommodate over eighty Knights charging about recklessly. This was not a real battle, after all, and to be so heedless would be too dangerous.
Therefore, the team mêlée was reserved for the final round.
Before the team mêlée, there would be a round of individual jousts to eliminate some participants. Of course, even those eliminated could continue to compete for honor if they so wished. But usually, no one was that thick-skinned.
The main rules were as follows:
First, a challenger may not refuse the request of any Knight who wishes to joust.
Second, any Knight wishing to joust may choose his opponent from among the challengers by simply tapping the man’s Shield with his Lance.
When he did so, if he used the butt of his lance, it indicated he desired a so-called friendly match—that is, with a round piece of wood fixed to the tip of the lance, making the encounter harmless save for the shock to man and horse. But if he tapped the shield with the tip of his lance, the joust was to be fought "à outrance," that is, with sharp weapons, just like in a real battle.
Third, after the Knights present had fulfilled their vows, with each defeating five opponents, Prince William would declare the victor of the first day’s jousts. The prize awarded would be a magnificent and incredibly strong Warhorse. In addition to this, his valor would earn him a special honor: to name the Queen of Love and Beauty, who would then be responsible for presenting the prizes.
Fourth, according to the rules for the final team mêlée, all Knights present who wished to compete for honor could participate. The participants would be divided into two teams, and each combatant would do their utmost to fight bravely, eliminating opponents by unhorsing them or dragging them out of the lists.
This would continue until Prince William gave the signal to declare the end of the competition.
The Knight who performed most brilliantly—that is, the one who eliminated the most opponents—would be judged the winner by Prince William. The Queen of Love and Beauty would then crown him with a chaplet made of thin gold leaf and fashioned in the shape of a laurel wreath. Thus, the knightly games would conclude.
But in the afternoon, there would also be popular archery contests, bull-baiting, and other amusements, allowing the common folk to find greater pleasure in direct participation.
...
This was probably Eric’s first time formally participating in a grand tournament. The one in Xialing had only involved sword fighting, which was a half-measure. For a Knight, the most important thing was the joust with lances.
Eric was now in the tented area north of the tournament grounds, the resting area. He was waiting for his turn to enter, but his gaze swept over the high stands to the side, and he couldn’t see any sign of Rufus.
Yuge stood beside Eric, sharing a story he had just concocted.
"I was once a distinguished Knight. I suppose I still am, but it feels like a long time ago. Twenty years ago, I served the late King Henry. I fought side-by-side with him, you know? We were comrades-in-arms."
"He told me that sooner or later, I would become a distinguished Knight. To this day, I still clearly remember that war, the Battle of Mortemer—the most perilous war of this century. I imagine you know how it ended."
"The Duke of Normandy won. We were the losers. The Duke was a brilliant military strategist, as his later life would go on to prove. He won a Crown for himself."
"So I don’t hate him. I even admire him a little."
"On the contrary, I despise my lord. My lord was a Baron under the late King Henry, but he was a detestable man. Although as his attendant, I shouldn’t speak of my Feudal Lord this way, I must."
"He was cunning, he was base. After the Battle of Mortemer, we were at a disadvantage, so he curried favor with the Norman Nobility and sold out my lands."
"No one helped me. I despaired of justice. So I took to the road, living by the strength of my arm. I search for men worse than myself. I want to take revenge on him, and I still do."
"My wife, fearing the Normans would act cruelly after breaching the walls, negotiated with a Norman and let him into my castle. After a brief struggle... she went to bed with him."
"My son was declared lord of the manor by a member of the Norman Nobility, set to inherit when he comes of age. In the meantime, that Norman noble is the regent and protector. All the income goes to him, with just enough left over for my wife to maintain a small household."
"And I was left with nothing. I can only wander, waiting for a chance at revenge."
"I’m sorry, but you don’t look destitute at all," Eric said, not calling Yuge out directly but instead playing along with a jest.
"I do my best not to appear so sorrowful. Things are already this bad; walking around with a long face all day doesn’t help."
"So I try to dress myself up a bit, using what little I have left. Dressing smartly allows me to forget the pain for a moment and lifts my spirits."
"Just like now, you’re more interested in my outfit than my tragic past, aren’t you?"
"Even a complete stranger’s attention is diverted." Yuge thumped his chest again, pretending to be a tough guy. "Anyway, what about you? Every good Knight has a good story, doesn’t he?"
"Me? I’m a bastard son from Italy who came to Normandy to make a living. My father doesn’t plan on leaving me anything, so I swore I’d live a better life than him and make him regret it," Eric said dismissively, brushing off the question.
"Didn’t you just say you were Danish? Isn’t Denmark to the north? Italy should be in the south," Yuge said, scratching his head.
"A Danish man goes wherever he pleases."
"True enough," Yuge nodded, though he felt something was a little off.
Eric noticed several new figures had appeared in the luxurious high gallery. One of them was Rufus. He wasn’t wearing a Helmet, so his red face was conspicuous. Beside Rufus was a young man dressed in the style of Northern Italy. The youth appeared listless, seemingly uninterested in the tournament.
Just then, trumpets blared. A herald spoke, but it was impossible to make out what he was saying. Then, the crowd erupted. The tournament had begun.
The herald ordered the attendants to raise colorful flags of different hues.
Ten Knights per round. Ten Knights entered the field, Eric among them.
"May God bless you. I’m betting on you, kid," Yuge said, patting Eric’s horse with the air of an experienced veteran.
As the Knights entered the field, the crowd let out a cry of "HO—HO—HO—HO—" like the sound a crowd makes when witnessing something terrible.
An Attendant took a lance from where it rested against the barrier and handed it to each entering Knight.
At the same time, he also picked up two spare lances.
These were specially made lances—the blunted, four-sectioned type used specifically for tournaments.