Page 54 of Fox of Fox Hall

Only the Lorilofts seemed able to hold any sortof conversation that did not pertain to the fighting. Fox couldn’tuse that as a distraction because he was not invited to speak withthem, and also in all honesty, he found them dull. People whodidn’t care about anything other than themselves were not terriblyinteresting. The battle itself was also loud: clashing and shouts,sounding signal horns. Talking had to be done at a high volume andFox didn’t want to strain his voice.

He started reciting ancient songs in his headwhen the older knights spoke to him, smiling politely the wholetime so they wouldn’t be offended. Knowledge would enhance thehorrors in his imagination. Byr Falnya had no such protection andsat with his hands in his lap, wringing a cloth that might havebeen a handkerchief before Falnya had begun to shred it. However,his expression was admirably calm, as if he was only mildlyconcerned with the outcome of the battle.

Fox wondered if Byr Shine was on Conall’s ‘team’but of course, that didn’t really matter. All of the knights wantedto be on the winning side, but most of this contest was aboutcomporting themselves well before the eyes of the king and manypowerful byr, like horses being paraded before potentialbuyers.

Another thought for Fox to keep to himself.

When Domvoda decided to ride out for a closerlook, Fox took his chance to walk to dispel some of his nervousenergy. He also dutifully sat at the king’s table for the meal thatthe audience was free to enjoy. He went through more of the ancientsongs he knew, reconsidering every song that mentioned someonewithering away from worry, since he had no desire to eat andcouldn’t focus on anything but the noises of the mock-battle. Theolder knights seemed to have also taken it upon themselves toensure Fox got some food in him and there was no escaping themshort of snapping, which they did not deserve though Fox would havefound it satisfying.

He eventually sent them after Byr Falnya to givehimself some room to breathe. It was the last moment of peace hewas granted.

He didn’t think it was his imagination that itwas an especially prolonged and brutal campaign on both sides thisyear; Drashnal with something to prove and Conall fighting for hisfuture. Many were carried off the field or stumbled from it,injured and lightheaded from struggling for hours under the sun.More of the injured seemed to wear white than blue, although Foxwas half-turned away and could have been mistaken. The olderknights began to speak in hushed, worried tones, whispering theirconcerns before sharing some of them with the rest in the box.

Domvoda was openly frowning, which was thestrongest indication that Fox was right and this battle was harsherthan usual. The knights were not supposed to cause each other real,lasting harm. Certainly not to so many. That benefited no one.

Eventually, Fox got up and sat next to ByrFalnya, which made the Lorilofts cluck and ruffle their very noblefeathers. He shot a smile to Byr Din and stared innocently back atDomvoda when Domvoda looked to him in question. Domvoda chose notto comment, returning to his far-glass when Fox asked Falnya aboutthe lovely lily design on his hose and then, though Fox did notgive a single fuck, also turned to Din and asked him about lilies,the real ones. Fox preferred Byr Din’s excited talk about flowervarieties to the anxious muttering of the older knights.

Domvoda glanced over more than once to quirk aneyebrow at Fox and the two Potentials now sitting with him. Waterwith ice was ordered and offered to everyone, the king’s doing,although he said nothing of it and took none himself.

Fox was contemplating Falnya’s increasingly wanappearance, and if Domvoda had ordered the water for him and whatthat could mean, when the oldest of the knights let out a shockedgasp that silenced everyone in the box. Domvoda, watching thebattle through his glass, seemed to turn to stone.

Fox jerked around to look over the field butcouldn’t see much more than a crush of knights in the rough shapeof a circle being eagerly swarmed from all sides by theiropponents. The inner circle was shrinking, tightening in on itself.Fox told himself that this was not real, that—injuries aside—thiswas play and no one was about to be killed. To those knights ingraying, dirtied white it mattered more that they were seen asgoing down while on their feet and fighting the remaining force oftheir opponent.

The older knights rose from their seats,frantically passing their far-glasses back and forth. Fox scannedthe field to see what they saw and then found it, although hedidn’t quite understand what he was seeing: a new press of knightsflowing from their smaller battles around the field and surroundingthe group besieging the tiny stand of knights in white. The newpress of knights turned from wherever they had been, whoever theyhad been fighting, riding or running fast to envelop the group hadonly a few moments before seemed like the victors. Even many ofthose on the side of the field who Fox had supposed injured movedforward almost as one, as if all this had been planned and theinitial small defeat and resistance had been false.

To convince an entire ‘army’ into committing somuch of their force to such an attack, they would have had to offerthat army the possibility of a true victory. The lure would have tobe nearly irresistible, especially at this point in an endlesslybrutal day.

The opposing side’s war-leader would have beenenough even if that war-leader were not also the famedDragonslayer.

Conall had to be in that original group ofdesperately fighting knights. He would have planned everything,including using himself as bait. A decision possibly made out ofexhaustion, betting that the other side was also exhausted andwanted this to end and so would seize such a chance.

The remaining stands of knights in blue on theoutside had little hope of breaking through the ring of knights inwhite, and the ones caught in the middle were now fighting on twofronts, one of which included Conall and whoever he had chosen totake with him. The move was clever and ruthless. What everyone butFox—and apparently Drashnal—had expected from Conall.

Fox closed his eyes but could not ignore thecheers in the box. The older knights were arguing over whethercalling up the injured in a move like this was sporting, althoughFox wondered how many had been truly injured in the first place. Hebit his tongue on that and how in a real battle the injured mightnot have had a choice.

Then someone tapped his knee, Falnya verylikely, and Fox opened his eyes in time to see Domvoda stand up andlower his far-glass. The battle was either over or all butover.

Fox felt no relief. Maybe that would comelater.

Domvoda ordered wine for everyone in the box.The spectators streamed out from underneath the shades to walkaround and get drinks. Others went to the boundary markers for thefield and passed them; no one would stop them now. But most othersbegan to congregate around the king’s box, waiting for the leadersof the knights to stand before Domvoda for their accolades oncethey had rested and cleaned up enough to be presentable.

Fox took the wine he was given and downedit.

It earned him a sharp stare from the king, andthen Byr Din, sweetly earnest, leaned closer to Fox to say, “Ibrought some of the tea for you in case it was needed. You seemedbetter today, but that wine won’t help.” Unexpectedly bold, Byr Dinthen called to a servant, handed them the packet, and gaveinstructions for the tea without asking if Fox would like it.

Fox thought he should object. He mostly blinkeda few times, dizzier now, as well as much hotter with the wine inhim. Not long after, he found himself sipping from a cup of teaunder Din’s surprisingly stern glare. Fox was not the only one inthe box to be rendered temporarily speechless by this, includingByr Din’s family, who tried to scold him for it until Domvodairritably told them to lower their voices.

The tea did help, or Fox was merely comforted byhaving something to hold when Conall, Drashnal, Rolfi and severalothers who must have served as battle counselors finally approachedDomvoda. They looked, each of them, worn to the bone, with darkeror reddened skin and sweat-matted hair. Their surcoats were morestains than clean cloth, and they had mud and dust in the hingesand joints of their remaining armor, although they had alreadytaken some of their gear off, probably to help them cool down.

Fox was vaguely aware of the sound of Byr Dintutting to himself, probably thinking of what herbs would help withsun-fever.

Not one of the knights had taken time to see toany wounds, if they needed that. All of them were almost certainlybruised beneath what armor remained. None of them were standingespecially straight, even Conall, who listed to one side and thenwas nudged upright by Byr Drashnal of all people.

Spectators crowded closer to cheer them, whichwould have been the last thing Fox would have wanted in theknights’ place. Their ears were probably still ringing from theclash of weapons and now they had to deal with hollered questionsand shouts from all directions. It was unharmonious, jarring chaosuntil Domvoda got to his feet.

“That was more than we asked of you,” he saidquietly, the crowd calming the moment he had risen. “You should allbe proud. There were no serious wounds?”

The knights shared a cagey glance. “Nothing tooserious, my king,” Byr Rolfi answered. Fox didn’t know if it wastrue, but Rolfi said it convincingly.

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