Tournaments were not the done thing in Basalia, at least not in the Imperial city. Amusement there tended to run to chariot or horse racing, and the annual athletic festivals which traced their origins back into the distant past. Theophanna had to admit she found it strangely thrilling. Perhaps Torm had something to do with that, though she was hesitant to admit that to herself. Each blow that was exchanged made her heart leap into her throat. She was terrified that he would lose, that he would be embarrassed after she had given him her favor but she need not have worried. The qualities of a fighting man were not something she was trained to recognise but it was obvious that Torm was a cut above the others. Perhaps they underestimated him because of his new found status but she doubted that would happen again. The bestowal of her favor marked him out as someone to beat, which might be no kindness. Well it was done now so to the Dark with it.  She lifted her hands and clapped them softly and the crowd in the stands, which had been growing steadily, erupted in applause. She wasn’t quite sure but she thought she could see Torm’s cheeks color in embarrassment.


“Bravely done squire, if the rest of our men fight so valiantly Orbai will win much honor this day,” Theophanna pronounced. This raised a hearty cheer from those who owed fealty to the count, perhaps slightly stifled by the fact that the man Torm had bested was also among that company.

“To that end,” the Troubader began, picking up the queue seamlessly, “the next match will be between Civeric Cousan and Geldorf the Red!”

“Perhaps you would care to join me for breakfast to celebrate your victory?” Theophanna asked Torm. A few minutes later they were ensconced in the dining tent which at his hour was empty. Few of the servants or squires would eat before midday, breakfast beyond a crust of bread being something of a luxury. Mildred provided them with thick soft bread and a preserve of jellied apricots along with cold sausage and hot bitter tea. Theophanna longed for cofere from Arabica but such things were rare in the west, and though her husband would buy it for her it was better not to emphasize her foreign birth more than was necessary. Perhaps Aristophanna had some in store, the trading cities of Tarlia being much more cosmopolitan than Vence.

Theophanna spread some of the jam onto her bread and nibbled politely, signalling to Torm that he could begin to eat. She could tell that he was hungry by the dryness of his lips and the way his nostrils flared ever so slightly at the scent of food. The Convent prided itself on learning to read such subtle clues, though she suspected anyone who fought an armored duel at this early hour was unlikely to be overfed.

“Two feats of arms in as many days…” she began but was interrupted as the canvas flap was ripped back. Squire Gilroy all but bust into the room, glaring about him. Theophanna paused with her bread part way to her mouth and arched an expressive eyebrow at the squire.

“My lady! You cannot wander around the tournament unattended it isn’t safe who knows what might have…” the squire blurted. Theophanna held up her hand to stop him.

“You forget yourself,” she told him in a steely tone that made his eyes flash hot.

“My lady…”

“Who was it that told you I was unattended?” she demanded. Gilroy mastered himself after a moment.

“The armsmen my lady…”

“The armsmen who were… attending me?” she suggested. Gilroy scowled and tossed his mane of hair. Doubtless he thought this made him look dashing but to Theophanna he looked more like a horse attempting to dissuade a fly.


“Simple men at arms are not adequate escorts for a Countess of Orbai!” Gilroy blustered.

“Fortunately I seem to be adequately escorted now,” Theophanna said, gesturing to Torm with her bread. Gilroy’s eyes seemed to spot the other squire for the first time, widening with surprise and then narrowing with dislike.

“Him but he is…”

“A squire just like yourself?” Theophanna suggested, “no doubt he will be sufficient to ward off any attempt my breakfast makes on my life?”

“But he is unproven and…”

“Gilroy, I would counsel you against calling a man who just yesterday saved my life and this morning prevailed in single combat ‘unproven’,” Theophanna advised. The squire stammered but could apparently find no reply to the gentle rebuke.

“If you believe Torm to be insufficient to see to my protection, then by all means join us for breakfast,” she suggested. Gilroy hesitated, then he shot Torm a poisonous look before bowing and ducking out of the tent. No doubt he would immediately run to her husband to complain of his injured ego but he couldn’t argue he was better protection than Torm without insulting his fellow squire. Theophanna took a bite of her bread and chewed for a moment before returning her attention to Torm.

“I was about to ask you where you learned to fight, I was twiting Gilroy but two victories in as many days is impressive,” she confessed.