Read Eliza Knight - The Rules of Chivalry for Free Online

mind.  Looking from left to right, Arthur snuck quietly into a nearby deserted tent.
    Once inside he made quick work of swapping out his tunic for a cleaner one, making sure it didn’t have someone’s initials embroidered on it.  The last thing he needed was to be caught stealing and lose a hand.  Then he’d be no help to anyone, and if he didn’t die of infection, he’d surely die of starvation before too long.
    Just as stealthily as he snuck in, Arthur left the tent.  He felt invigorated, almost like this was his first quest on his way to working with a knight.  What else could he do?  Better not overshoot his luck too much.
    Arthur strolled along the path eyeing the other tourney attendees, the merchants and knights kissing the hands of ladies.  Someday he’d be able to bow low and kiss the fair skin of a woman.  His body stirred with the thought.  He shifted uncomfortably.  Why did he have to do that?  Disgusting.   His mother, if she were still alive, would no doubt rip his ears off for thinking such thoughts.
    It would be best to get his mind back on his goal.   He needed to find a town he could be from, and work on acting like a free man.
    *****
    Locating Fletch, Michael returned to his tent. One of his other squires, Colin , was gathering his blunt tipped lances and broad-sword. It had only been recently that the lords, along with the king, had deemed no other weapons could be used. He was now only allowed his three squires to assist him, or he’d risk imprisonment. He didn’t fault the lords, as it had become quite commonplace with such large tournaments for massive fights to break out, as well as the raping and pillaging of nearby towns. He shuddered to think that the men he held in as much esteem as himself, who knew to follow the chivalric code, would dare to act so heinously. He was only glad he didn’t know any of the men personally who’d been the cause of such atrocious behavior.
    Jon assisted his groom in readying Black, making sure his caparison was in place, the heraldry of the Devereux family showing on the fabric draped over the mount’s body. Black’s chanfron was of superior quality and fit so well, that no cursory glance from the lance would injure his horse’s face.
    “Jon, make sure Charles puts on the high back saddle and long spurs. Fletch, you’ll help me with my armor.” His squires nodded and hurried to do his bidding. He was all business now. Everything had to be perfect.
    His armorer had done a spectacular job of outfitting him for the tournament. He’d convinced his father to purchase the new suit, as the man had much pride in him that he would indeed win the spot in Kent’s army. He’d worn it during training to let his body adjust to its weight and length. Michael had no fear that he would lose the armor and his horse today. No, he was confident he would win. The stakes were too high, and he'd trained for this day for nearly ten years since he’d earned his spurs at the tender age of five and ten.
    Inside his tent, Michael began to mentally prepare for what lay ahead. He took deep even breaths as he undressed, letting his body relax, and gain total control. His anxiety over Elena ebbed somewhat. Jon brought him his usual regiment of cold water to splash on his face. Then he took a bit of orange letting it wet his palette, refreshing his breath and mind.
    Colin and Jon together helped him to don his leggings and gambeson. The quilted doublet was long and fitted, coming to mid-thigh. The slits up the front and back would enable him to sit Black without interference. Next came his hauberk of chainmail, attached to it his mufflers. Michael flexed his hands letting the soothing metal of the mufflers ease into place. He slipped into his tunic that bore his family crest.
    Jon attached his cuisses to protect his thighs, while Fletch fitted his chainmail coif over his head, and his shoulder-plates. Colin easily put his vambraces on his lower arms, while lifting his