Eric once again effortlessly unhorsed another knight who had come to challenge him.
As this was already the seventh time, the outcome held no suspense for the nearby spectators.
Eric dismounted and helped the knight he had just defeated to his feet.
"Thank you. It was my honor to compete against a knight such as yourself." The knight’s tone was gentle, and he seemed far more good-natured than most of his peers.
He had short, light brown hair that was neat and tidy. His beard was clean-shaven, making him look quite young, perhaps around Eric’s age, but Eric was certain he was older than he appeared.
"The honor was mine as well. It’s rare to meet someone who can remain so humble at all times," Eric replied politely.
"Hahaha. Yes, it seems most people and things are heading in a terrible direction, no matter where you look, especially in these days that feel like the end of times. I hope they one day realize their foul tempers are a defiance of God."
"Then, out of sympathy, allow me to pray for them," Eric said with a smile.
"Hahaha, yes, pray for them, in God’s mercy." Stephen laughed again. He pulled off his gauntlet, tucked it under his arm, and extended a hand to Eric. "My name is Stephen, from Blois. Perhaps you could tell me yours? A fine knight, especially one like you, deserves to be remembered."
"Just call me Eric." Eric looked at Stephen’s outstretched hand and then shook it.
"No intention of giving your family name? Or have you made some incredible vow not to reveal it until you’ve fulfilled your quest?" Stephen asked, his gentle smile never wavering.
"Sorry, I’m just a mercenary. I don’t have something so noble," Eric said with a shrug.
"Well, for me, perhaps that’s not a bad thing."
Suddenly, a small boy came toddling over. He pushed past the people in his way and rushed forward. As the boy reached Stephen’s feet, Stephen scooped him up in his arms.
"Look what I’ve caught! What a strange little kitten this is!" Stephen laughed, lifting the little boy high.
The boy was too young to understand the joke, having just turned two. He didn’t fully grasp his relationship with Stephen, either. He only knew that Stephen was always good to him, that Stephen was fun, and he now shrieked with delight.
"Again, again!" the little boy yelled, finding it great fun.
However, Stephen knew his limits and gently set him back on the ground.
"Your child?" Eric asked, taking the little boy’s outstretched hand.
"Mmm..." Stephen put on a thoughtful expression, then smiled. "In a way, yes. His mother..."
"Thibault!" A woman’s voice cut Stephen off. A young lady rushed over first, a pale-faced wet nurse close behind. She hugged her son tightly until he began to struggle, then turned to Stephen.
"I’m sorry, Stephen, I didn’t..." the young woman apologized.
"It’s all right, my Violet. I don’t like to see you frown." Stephen smiled and put his arm around her.
Then Stephen looked at Eric. "Let me introduce you. Eric, this is my Violet, Rosamund. Rosamund, this is Eric, the Unrivaled Knight who defeated me."
"May God bless you, Sir Eric." The young woman curtsied to Eric.
"May God bless you, my lady," Eric replied with a bow.
"Take Thibault to the shade. The sun is a bit strong today. You should also wear less." Stephen wiped the sweat from her brow with his finger, then patted her on the back, signaling for her to take the child and go.
"You love your wife very much."
"No, she is not my wife. I’m not even married. She is my Violet."
Watching the woman leave, Stephen turned to Eric.
"What? Then the child..."
"When he comes of age, he will be my son. I will ensure he receives his rightful share," Stephen said, still smiling gently.
"That’s good," Eric said suddenly, watching the little boy’s departing figure.
Then, with a clear metallic jingle, Stephen tossed something to Eric.
Eric caught it steadily.
It was a silver insignia, emblazoned with three roses.
"The Anjou people are greedy and jealous, Mann is chaotic and disorderly, Normandy is rife with conflict, but Blois is peaceful and comfortable. Though not as glorious as the others, it is prosperous and tranquil. The Loire River Valley is deep and serene. It would be a good place to settle down," Stephen said with his arms crossed.
"Thank you, I’ll consider it," Eric replied politely.
"Prince William is said to be selecting his personal guard knights at this tournament." Stephen glanced around and lowered his voice. "But to be honest, I’m not optimistic about his chances. Even if he’s lucky, the best he can hope for is to hold on to Normandy. His older brother won’t give it up easily. You probably don’t know what incredible thing that brother of his has done recently."
That fellow spent less than four months snatching the Crown from his father’s head—the fearsome Conqueror William. Sounds like a myth, doesn’t it?
But this is the latest news I’ve received. At the time, I thought it was some tall tale or rumor made up by a Minstrel, but it really happened. Well, that’s the situation. The choice is yours. No need to tell me your decision right away.
"If you come to Blois, show this insignia to the officials there, and you’ll be able to find me. When you do, I can show you a good time." Stephen then clapped Eric on the shoulder, took his warhorse’s reins, and left.
A short while after Stephen left, the individual combat competition officially concluded.
To Eric’s surprise, that fellow Yuge had actually won two matches, which was rather unexpected.
But Eric had no time to listen to him ramble. Amidst the thunderous cheers of the crowd, Count Hugo of Mann announced that Eric had achieved a glorious victory that day.
Count Hugo of Mann had intended to say a few more words, but then he remembered he was Milanese and his French wasn’t very fluent, so he abandoned the idea.
"Knight Eric, today you have basked in the Lord’s favor and seized the laurel of this tournament. Your masterful skill has not only won you honor but also a special privilege: to designate a fair lady as the Queen of Love and Beauty, who will preside over the rest of the grand tournament."
"You may give this Crown to whomever you please. This is your inalienable right. The lady you choose will be the fully-endorsed, officially selected queen for tomorrow. Raise your lance."
Eric raised his lance, and Count Hugo of Mann hung an emerald-green satin Crown on its tip. The Crown was edged with a band of gold, and atop this golden band was a border of alternating arrowheads and heart-shaped ornaments, much like the strawberry leaves and pearls on a ducal coronet.
In the high stands, the various noble ladies and young misses began to grow quite excited.
A tournament champion who won seven consecutive victories was exceedingly rare. The honor bestowed by such a knight was significant and well worth boasting about.
Eric mounted his warhorse, held his lance aloft, and began to circle the field.
He rode at a leisurely pace, not because he was genuinely searching for a beauty.
He noticed that Rufus had disappeared somewhere.
’Has he gone to warm up for the team competition?’
After confirming Rufus wasn’t in the high stands, he scanned the crowd again, looking for Eleanor and Helia.
Only then did he begin to survey the women in the viewing stands. He had to choose one, after all.
Many people had come to watch this tournament, and there were indeed many beautiful women, each with her own unique charm and well worth a look.
Some blushed deeply. Some put on an air of caution and solemnity. Some stared straight ahead as if they had no idea what was happening. Some shrank back in fright, though this could have been feigned shyness. Some forced themselves to remain calm and offered a smile, while a couple of others acted nonchalant and simply laughed aloud.
A few others lowered their veils, hiding their faces from view. These were mostly beauties whose prime had faded; one could imagine they had experienced this sort of fleeting fame for over a decade and were now content to step aside, leaving the opportunity to the rising stars.
However, among the veiled women, Eric’s eyes soon fell upon one in particular, and he grew amused by his own idea.
She was seated some distance from Eric. He steered his warhorse to the closest possible point and extended his lance in her direction. The length of the lance was just enough to reach her position.
The lovely veiled young lady quite naturally leaned away, closer to her father. She clearly thought he was choosing the young lady next to her. That lady, looking very excited, was about to stand up and take the Crown from the lance.
But just as she was about to touch the Crown, Eric pulled the lance back, tilted it up, and then gave it a sharp forward flick. The Crown hanging on the tip flew through the air and landed perfectly on the lovely veiled lady’s head.
This caused an uproar among the ladies in the surrounding seats.
"Wrong one, wrong one!"
"A mistake, a mistake!"
Someone shouted.
No one believed she had been the one chosen.
This clearly put her under pressure, and she moved to take off the Crown.
Eric dismounted, walked up the steps, took her hand, and pressed the Crown firmly back onto her head.
He then led her all the way to the victor’s podium, every step met with a fresh wave of commotion.
"My lord, have I done something to displease you?" the beautiful Jewish girl asked, her pretty brows furrowed.
"This is an honor," Eric stressed.
"It’s a curse. It’s mockery. You should have chosen someone else."
"I’m not joking. To be honest, I hadn’t decided who to choose, but the Crown took matters into its own hands. God chose you."
"Whose God?" the girl asked, tilting her head, clearly fuming.
"The world’s. Everyone’s. The God of love and beauty."