Lancelot Read Online Free Page A

me?”
    “Just a moment, Lavaine. Father, I must speak with you at once. Uncle Ulfric said—”
    She broke off as Sir John, the steward, made his way across the courtyard, leaning heavily upon his stick. “Sir John,” she called, “attend me if you would. Do you remember that we spoke of planting the north field before I left? Yet it seems to me that naught has been accomplished.”
    “True, lady,” Sir John said, “I did try—but, alas, since Martin Reeve has left us—”
    “God rest him,” Elaine said, signing herself with the cross, “but he has been dead these six weeks past. Surely it cannot be so great a matter to find another reeve!”
    “No, my lady,” Sir John said, “in the usual course of events—indeed, I did speak to the villeins, and Lord Pelleas has promised to consider the list of candidates I presented him.”
    Sir John smiled so proudly that Elaine did not have the heart to point out that this same promise had been made many times before. Indeed, on the eve of her departure,Father had solemnly assured her he would attend to the matter just as soon as he could find the time. Which, apparently, he had not managed to do in the month she had been gone.
    “Will there be anything more, my lady?”
    Elaine glanced at Torre, who held up his hands as if to say,
not me!
Not her father, either, who could scarce be bothered to eat a meal, let alone worry how it managed to arrive at table. And surely not Lavaine, still half a child with his head stuffed full of dreams of noble feats of arms.
    “Send to Britt and bid him hitch up the oxen,” she ordered crisply. “Have every able-bodied man and woman leave whatever they are doing and go immediately to the north field. Lord Pelleas and I shall join them in one hour.”
    “Aye, my lady,” Sir John said, “I will see to it.”
    “Thank you. Now, Father, please listen. Uncle Ulfric said—”
    “But my jupon!” Lavaine cried.
    “In good time,” she said impatiently.
    “I need it now!”
    “Lavaine’s got it in his head to ride off to a tournament tomorrow,” Torre put in.
    “Tomorrow?”
Not yet,
she thought,
it is too soon
. Though she knew it wasn’t really. Lavaine had been knighted just before she’d left for Alston. But he was so young still—just eighteen this year, and even mock battles could be dangerous. One only had to look at Torre to see that.
    “What tournament is this?” she asked.
    “The king’s Pentecostal festival,” Lavaine began. “Knights have come from all parts of the world to compete—”
    “And everyone knows Sir Lancelot will win,” Torre snapped, shooting his brother a scowl that Lavaine had done nothing to deserve. Not that Lavaine was cast down inthe least. He was far too used to Torre’s surly moods to pay them any mind.
    “The prize is an enormous diamond!” Lavaine went on eagerly.
    “A diamond?” Elaine stopped short. “How strange.”
    “Not really,” Lavaine said, “the king always offers something magnificent at Pentecost.”
    “And I suppose you think you have a chance to win it!” Torre demanded with a scornful laugh.
    “I can try, can’t I? Just because
you
can’t compete doesn’t mean that no one else should!”
    “A diamond?” Elaine repeated slowly, and her brothers broke off to stare at her.
    “You seem strangely interested in this diamond,” Torre said. “Why? Have you acquired a taste for vulgar jewels?”
    “Given half a chance, I daresay I could. But I dreamed last night—oh, it was nothing—”
    “Tell me,” her father ordered, looking up from his parchments, “and perhaps we can divine its meaning.”
    Dreams! It was always dreams with him! They were as meat and drink to Corbenic’s lord, more real than the filthy courtyard all around him and more pressing than his idle serfs. But he was looking at her so expectantly, his bright blue eyes as guileless as a child’s, that she lacked the heart to chide him.
    Poor Father. It wasn’t his fault he could no