Another blast of long-shafted, big-mouthed trumpets was followed by the thunder of the hooves of the knight’s horses and the cheers of the onlookers. The two met exactly in the middle of the field, as did the lance of each in the middle of the other’s shield. Both fell with a clangor that startled the birds from the nearby trees, as they had been startled many times that day. The horses rolled on the ground.
The men of each knight ran out onto the field to pick up their chief and to drag away the horses, both of which had broken their necks. For a moment, Wolff thought that the Yidshe and Kickaha were also
dead, for neither stirred. After being carried back, however, Kickaha came to. He grinned feebly, and said, “You ought to see the other guy.”
“He’s okay,” Wolff said after a glance at the other camp.
“Too bad,” Kickaha replied. “I was hoping he wouldn’t give us any more trouble. He’s held me up too long as it is.”
Kickaha ordered all but Wolff to leave the tent. His men seemed reluctant to leave him but they obeyed, though not without warning looks at Wolff. Kickaha said, “I was on my way from my castle to von Elgers’ when I passed funem Laksfalk’s pavilion. If I’d been alone, I would have thumbed my nose at his challenge and ridden on. But there were also Teutoniacs there, and I had my own men to consider. I couldn’t afford to get a reputation of cowardice; my own men would’ve pelted me with rotten cabbage and I’d have had to fight every knight in the land to prove my courage. I figured that it wouldn’t take me long to straighten out the Yidshe on who the best man was, and then I could take off.
“It didn’t work out that way. The marshals had me listed in the Number Three position. That meant I had to joust with three men for three days before I’d get to the big time. I protested; no use. So I swore to myself and sweated it out. You saw my second encounter with funem Laksfalk. We both knocked each other off the saddle the first time, too. Even so, that’s more than the others have done. They’re burned up because a Yidshe has defeated every Teuton except me. Besides, he’s killed two already and crippled another for life.”
While listening to Kickaha, Wolff had been taking the armor off. Kickaha sat up suddenly, groaning and wincing, and said, “Hey, how in hell did you get here?”
“I walked mostly. But I thought you were dead.”
“The report wasn’t too grossly exaggerated. When I fell down that shaft I landed halfway up on a ledge of dirt. It broke off and started a little cave-in that buried me after I landed on the bottom. But I wasn’t knocked out long, and the dirt only lightly covered my face, so I wasn’t asphyxiated. I lay quiet for a while because the Sholkin were looking down the hole then. They even threw a spear down, but it missed me by a mole’s hair.
“After a couple of hours, I dug myself out. I had a time getting out, I can tell you. The dirt kept breaking off, and I kept falling back. It must’ve taken me ten hours, but I was lucky at that. Now, how did you get here, you big lunk?”
Wolff told him. Kickaha frowned and said, “So I was right in figuring that Abiru would come to von Elgers’ on his way. Listen, we got to get out of here and fast. How would you like to take a swing at the big Yid?”
Wolff protested that he knew nothing of the fine points of jousting, that it took a lifetime to learn. Kickaha said, “If you were going to break a lance with him, you’d be right. But we’ll challenge him to a contest with swords, no shields. Broadswording isn’t exactly duelling with a rapier or saber; it’s main strength and that’s what you’ve got!”
“I’m not a knight. The others saw me enter as a common vagrant.”
“Nonsense! You think these chevaliers don’t go around in disguise all the time? I’ll tell them you’re a