The Knight pulled his destrier to a halt, the sounds of crying and pleas for clemency reaching his ears. He glanced back to the wagon that followed him. Ratafian was already leaping down, the thin, black-clad man reaching for the knives he wore at his belt before vanishing into the trees that lined the road. The Knight nodded, Ratafian would cut off the corner and emerge close by the melee. He urged his horse to a canter, his wagon following, to growl angrily at the sight before him.
Another Knight sat astride his horse laughing at the sight of a small figure being whipped by one of his retinue. Thin arms tried to protect an auburn-topped head whilst a leather belt connected with narrow shoulders and unprotected legs.
"Hold fast, Sir Edmund, just what did the little one do to merit such punishment?"
"Impudent whelp dared touch my stirrup, begging," Edmund replied, his lip curling with disgust at the thought of the small, dirty hand clutching at him as he had passed.
"I suggest your man rejoins your entourage and you continue to the tourney, Sir Edmund," Ratafian growled as he pressed one of his knives against the ribs of the man looming over the petit, sobbing figure.
"Sir Edmund?" the man queried, glancing nervously at the long, wicked blade.
"Enough," The Knight waved a hand dismissively. "You are not one of us and never will be," the Knight sneered. "You are too soft, Radley, and that will be your undoing. Back to the wagon," he added to his man. "Let us be away from here."
Radley remained on his horse until the other Knight had fully rounded the corner in the road, waiting for the sounds of horses and wagon to fade and then dismounted to join Ratafian. As he approached he stopped and stared. He had thought the victim to be a young maiden, but instead it was a youth. A young man with the face of an angel stood, still weeping, in Ratafian's arms. Radley stepped forward slowly, almost afraid that the stranger would sprout wings and ascend. Now that he was standing, Radley could see that the young man was small and slim, almost too slim, dressed in cream hose and a dark-red shift that seemed to accent pale skin and auburn curls.
"What are you called?" Radley asked, girding the armour around his heart. He had two good friends, he did not need further, nor did he need more heartbreak.
"My name is Sebastian," the young man said softly. He took his first good look at his unexpected rescuers. The man who still had an arm around him was a couple of inches taller than, and almost as slender as, Sebastian himself. His hair was straight, reaching his shoulders and as dark as a raven's wing, his eyes were a warm, rich brown and he had a thin wispy moustache adorning his upper lip. At the sound of the other man's voice, Sebastian turned and was stunned by the sight. The Knight was tall and broad. His face clean-shaven with a small dimple in his chin, his hair a rich chestnut and he had eyes as blue and clear as a summer's day. Sebastian was certain he had never seen a more handsome, virile man.
"Edmund said you were begging," Ratafian prompted.
"My mother still ails from a recent fever," Sebastian said, sorrow replacing shock. "I did work as a potboy, but the innkeeper wanted me to offer...more to the patrons and I said 'no' so he threw me out. I needed to buy herbs from the apothecary and when I told him about losing my job, he...he came to an arrangement with me..."
Ratafian hugged the young man tightly as wracking sobs shook the small frame.
"Find out later," Radley murmured to his man, receiving a nod. "I could use an extra pair of hands," he lied, easing the young man from Ratafian's embrace. "I am Sir Radley, this is my man-at-arms, Ratafian and driving our wagon is Ox."
Sebastian looked over to where an enormous shaven-skulled, man sat smiling.
"Is the little angel to ride with Ratafian and me?" Ox called.
Radley could not help but think Ox's description of the youth very apt. Common sense told him to send the auburn beauty to the wagon and he dimly wondered where the words he spoke came from.
"With you and Ratafian arguing over space and snoring, all the way to the Lists? I do not wish to drive him away. Sebastian can ride with me." Radley ignored the look from Ratafian and escorted the smaller man to his horse. "This is Sampson and Delilah pulls the wagon," Radley said, pointing first at his huge, bay war-horse and then at the grey mare. His eyes narrowed as he gauged whether Sebastian would even reach high enough to place a foot in the stirrup.
"You mount, Radley, I will help the little angel," Ox laughed seeing the look of dismay on the pretty young man's face. He waited for his friend to settle himself in his saddle, easing back a little to create some space in which to seat the smaller man.
Sebastian could not help the squeal that escaped as huge hands grasped firmly at his hips and lifted him as easily as if he had been just a child. As he was raised by Ox, Radley's arm snaked about his waist, settling him in front of the magnificent male. He gripped the saddle's pommel, attempting to stop his shaking, praying that it had gone unnoticed.
"Neither I nor Sampson will let you fall, little angel," Radley whispered feeling the lithe body tremble. He took the reins in one hand, coving the younger man's hands with his other, and urged his horse forward. They need not rush for one of the 'better' places in which to erect their pavilion. They preferred to keep some distance. Edmund was right to some extent. Radley was not one of 'them' and was proud that he had earned his Knighthood. He sent a silent prayer that he would earn enough from this joust to be able to return home.
****
The Lists was, in fact, the field close by to the castle on which the tournament was to take place. Sebastian helped as best he could to erect the pavilion, the tent in which they would live for the tourney's duration, with Ox and Ratafian. He was sorry to see that Radley had already disappeared to speak to the Lord holding the tourney, Sir Allard. The tournament was a Joust a Plaisance and would therefore have one overall winner determined through contests. However, Sebastian was aware that they were, as yet, days away. The morrow was the last day for all the Knights competing to assemble. Then there was to be the Vespers Tourney, for the younger Knights and their squires to demonstrate their skills. Then there was the Opening Day Procession, then the display of helms and then the selection of the 'Chevalier d'honneur'. It would therefore be several days before Radley actually began to joust.
"Come with me, little angel," Ratafian's softly spoken words shook Sebastian from his reverie. He trotted meekly behind the older man as they wandered into the woods. "I know this place," Ratafian threw over his shoulder. "There is a river down here." Ratafian took Sebastian to where the water bubbled loudly over some rocks and they sat in silence for several minutes, the older man clearly ensuring no one had followed. "Now tell me about this apothecary and innkeeper. You can trust me, Sebastian. Naught you say will shock me or cause me to abandon you. I swear it."
Ratafian listened in growing anger as he heard that the innkeeper had wanted Sebastian to offer his body to 'selected clients'. How the 'arrangement' with the apothecary was for the young man to pose naked in return for the herbs Sebastian needed for his mother and yet seemed not to have helped in strengthening her. He was not, however, surprised to find that it was not ladies that turned Sebastian's head.
"I have been so careful, Ratafian," Sebastian whispered. "Yet these men, could they see something of me I thought hidden?"
"No, little angel," Ratafian sighed. "These are just evil men trying to take advantage of one who is vulnerable and beautiful. Have no fear amongst us, Sebastian. We are aware of such feelings and they are more common than you might think. You are safe, little angel. Now, I have some experience with herb lore. Let us tell Ox where we are going and visit your mother."
