Chapter Two

N ot everyone was able to attend High King Arthur's Easter Court in Cardigan. The inhabitants of Laluth, for example, fell outside of Arthur's immediate sphere. However, one young Laluthian maiden had spent a good deal of Easter week thinking about the High King's grand court.

Enide knew Castle Cardigan wasn't terribly far, but it might as well have been on the moon.

They hadn't been invited. Rather, their count had not been invited. Enide's uncle, the count of Laluth, was a well-known troublemaker. As for her father, the lowly vassal Licoranz, and his wife, Tarsenesyde, King Arthur would have no cause to know they even existed.

It was well known that all the famous Knights of the Round Table would be in Cardigan, doing all those exciting things such knights did. Enide's cousin Alma, the count's daughter, endlessly recounted tales of Sir Lancelot, Sir Gawain, Sir Dinadin…all the handsome, bold men who went on glorious quests, slew dragons, rescued damsels-in-distress, and fought mysterious knights who were actually evil ogres. Enide wasn't clear on where Alma got her information, but living in her father's castle, Alma had a larger view of the world than Enide did.

"Daughter, come away from that window!" Tarsenesyde scolded.

Enide jumped back, letting the shutter clack against the frame. In the quiet of the tiny kitchen, the noise of banging wood seemed unbearably loud.

"Pardon me, Mama. I was just—"

"I know what you were just." Tarsenesyde's eyes narrowed. Worry lines deepened in her face. Coupled with the gray in her once-yellow hair, it made her look severe. "Who's out there? Robert? Jack?"

"No, Mama." Enide sighed. As if she would be spying on the miller's sons.

From the window, she could see past the back alley to the corner of the main street. Her little town was thronged with strangers. Laluth had its own way of celebrating Easter: The Sparrow Hawk Joust. People came from all the surrounding villages for the spectacle. Each year, a magnificent hawk was set out on a perch to be claimed by a champion and awarded to the loveliest maiden in Laluth.

In truth, it was no longer a contest. Six years ago, a knight named Sir Yder had claimed the hawk for his ladylove. He defeated the challenger in a tremendous battle. He won the prize again the next year, beating his opponent so decisively the joust had been rather dull. Since then, no one had been brave enough to go against him. Still, the people came. Full of anticipation.

Enide wished she could go to the square to watch, but Papa and Mama had forbidden it. Mama said it was a scandalous display. The victorious knight was supposed to marry his ladylove, not claim her to be the most beautiful maiden , year-after-year.

"There are so many people," Enide said, preparing to hint no one would even notice her presence in such a crowd. She could drape a hood over her golden hair if that would help.

"Too many people," Tarsenesyde said, smoothing her apron as if the wrinkles vexed her. "Exactly why you must stay away from the windows!"

"And the door. And don't even think about going out to the barn," Enide said, to prove that she remembered. She didn't mean to be contrary. She simply wanted to witness the only excitement Laluth ever saw.

Her mother frowned. Enide had a feeling she was about to be scolded when her father walked into the room.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking worriedly from wife to daughter.

"Nothing is wrong, Papa," she said, feeling a catch in her chest. That was untrue. Papa was wearing his stained, holey, brown tunic again. Her mother's dress, presentable but dreadfully plain, drove the point home just as well. Everything was wrong.

They were noble folk. Her father had been a high-ranking vassal, high enough to marry the count's sister. He had served the count honorably in his wars. But the count no longer showed them his favor. Papa had lost everything. And even though her parents had never said so, Enide knew that somehow, it was all her fault.

Just as she knew that the joust wasn't the scandal. She was. Her parents kept her from it for the same reason she could no longer chat with her the miller's sons, or the blacksmith, or even the two widow women who brewed ale. Papa had stopped bringing her along after a crowd of men started waiting there with their buckets to glimpse her.

And therein lay the danger of the Sparrow Hawk Tournament. What could cause Licoranz more grief than being the father of the most beautiful damsel in Laluth?