Chapter 39: The Green

The jousting green looks as if it has not been used in some time when I see it from a distance. Green grass of that length has not had tread or wear in a while.

Henry is getting old, but does not admit jousting rattles his bones and causes him pain.

So much the better for me.

I hope to antagonize him today, hurting his ego so he will demand I joust with him.

There is no doubt in my mind I will best him at the sword today.

A large crowd is buzzing in the arena, and Isabella is at my side, sliding my paldrons over my shoulders, and fastening them on.

"Take care not to let him hurt you," she begs. "I want you to return to me all in one piece and without a single scratch."

"You are adorable when you worry for me, wife. If I wasn't hampered down with metal on my body, I would toss you in that hay like I did yesterday before the hunt," I say.

She blushes. My wife is very edible when like this, so I suck at her neck, and move her backward to the wall. My shirt she wears, falls off her right shoulder. I rake my eyes over her, and that creamy white shoulder, makes me want to claw my armor off so I can strip her and see more of her skin she hides under those clothes.

Isabella sighs heavy with concern. She told me last night she never watched me in the past when I was jousting or at the sword. It worried her too much, so she hid in the stables until I would come back, then she would spy me.

I kiss her lips slowly, softly to calm her nerves.

Isabella builds the kiss to an urgent level we have never experienced before. At least not from her.

Her mouth opens, and presses mine to do the same.

I have heard of this type of bawdy kissing with lips parted, but have never thought to try it on her.

Does she not think it vulgar for our tongues to explore each other's mouths?

Nay, she does not hesitate to taste mine.

The soft way her tongue caresses mine, and the way her panting breaths filter into my mouth, make me wild with desire.

Suddenly I am pulling at my armor, desperate to remove it. I need her. My groin burns.

"Isabella . . . what are you doing to me?" I rasp.

She doesn't stop; doesn't answer.

All she does is quietly moan against my lips, and place her tongue further into my mouth.

I grip her to my body savagely, and grunt at how far away she feels with all of this bulky metal in the way.

"Do not get hurt, please," she whimpers, and then her mouth is gone.

"Please . . . oh do not stop, darling wife. I want more of that kind of kissing," I beg.

She chuckles.

"A king waits for you to best him, and when you are done, I will be at your disposal," she promises.

I sigh, and my shoulders sag. "Fine. I will not drag this out then. I planned to humiliate him slowly, but now I have a reason to be quick. My wife makes me mad with the racing pulse of desire," I say, throwing my hands up in the air.

She laughs.

I am handed my helmet after she helps me put my gauntlets on, and then we take Knicklom out of the stall together.

"Do not ride too long. I think thirty minutes or less might be wise," I instruct.

She nods.

Knicklom is not needed for the sword battle, but Isabella cannot watch.

It makes her sick with worry, and the only thing that will calm her is to ride. She has been vomiting most of the morning as she was in a state of ill humor over my possibly being hurt today. It was difficult to see her in such a worrisome way.

So while I am fighting, she will be exploring the grounds from Knicklom's back.

I am uneasy having her out of sight, but the court will be watching Henry's embarrassment. Nobody will bother her. And Henry will be away from her. All is well . . .




I saunter out to the arena, and wave to Isabella over my shoulder.

She is taking a huge risk—wearing my breeches and shirt. And of course I have a difficult time to keep from wanting to devour her when she looks so delectable.

Henry is poised, ready for the sport.

When I am in place, we both slide our visors down.

The horn blasts, and we circle each other.

Henry's silver armor, edged in black, looks intimidating. The decorative rivets are slightly distracting, but I can pay them no heed. I am in no peril.

I opted to not bring a shield, but to use my dagger and longsword. My Masen crest is emblazoned on the chest of my armor. I hope it draws his eye there. It usually does for my opponents.

My chainmail clinks under my armor a little as I move into a strategic position.

I try not to dwell on what it felt like when Isabella's lithe body was wiggling around me and her little hands were on my legs, putting my armor on. The look of lust in her eyes when she was on her knees, made my mouth water. Anytime she touches my manhood, I about come unmanned.

She has yet to taste me there, and I hope maybe someday she will venture that way with her mouth. Maybe she will enjoy tasting me as much as I do when I am savoring her feminine flavors?

And then that kissing . . . my Lord. I thank my maker above I married this woman. She is all I will ever need or want. Somehow the throne does not call to me as it once did. And being in court again and seeing how miserable Henry is, it makes me want to shun the crown if it ever is offered to me.

What has my wife done to me? How has she changed me thus?

I almost do not recognize my own voice in my head.

Henry lunges at me, and it is slow enough I have time to sidestep him easy, and avoid his blow.

I wait and observe his fighting style. It has been years since I have seen him with a sword in hand. His muscle will probably tax soon, since the longsword weighs thirty-two pounds. He is not as spry as he once was, nor does the might in his arm rival mine. Age has diminished his strength.

My elbows are bent, and close to my body; my weapon's at the ready.

Henry is off balance, and he growls at me as he lunges yet again. This time I allow him to make contact with my breastplate. The sword glances off and he stumbles forward, near to falling.

The crowd gasps, and voice jeer at me.

His flow is uncertain, so I go into taunting mode.

"I am glad both your queen and mistress could be here to see you stumble around to prove a point," I say.

"And what is that point?" he asks.

I slide my visor up, smirking. "That you are never too old to fall on your royal ass." I clang my sword on his helmet.

He roars with fury, and comes at me stronger.

I roll around him, keeping us equidistant.

It agitates him further.

"My wife pays no heed to your interest in her. You might as well let us go," I goad him.

"She will see me soon enough, and it is you who will grovel in the dirt, not I," he insists.

"If you persist, Sire, I will have to show you your true age with your own eyes." I take my sword by the blade and hammer the edge of the hilt into his side.


The crossguard pounds the armor into him, and his ribs make a splitting sound.

"Ahhhhhhh!" he screams in agony, and stumbles backward.

More loud cries from the crowd for Henry to finish me off.

"Let us go; I keep my wife, and I end this now. You keep your dignity. We all get what we desire," I hiss.

"You keep your damn wife after I've had my fill of her," he says, taking a stuttering breath.

I take my sword and do the same to the other side; damaging those ribs on the right, making it almost unbearable for him to lift his sword now.

Henry's shield shakes in his left hand too.

He tires, and I am afresh.

Just as I prepare to bring him to his knees, I hear her.

"Edwaaaard! She's here!" Isabella screams louder than I've ever heard.

She rides onto the field, and we are now compromised.

Henry now has fuel for his fire to burn us.

It is against the law for her to dress this way. No one had seen her in this state before now.

I turn to see what the danger is, and to what she refers, and Henry takes the cowardly blow from behind.

He jams his sword into my back, and I fall forward to the ground on my chest.

I roll over, and the butt of the blade is in my face, where I am unprotected, because I raised my visor in a smug attitude.

"Now . . . what were you saying about letting your wife come to me?" he breathes, his eyes like flames of glory.

I close my eyes, and concede defeat.


If you want to see why I think Isabella putting armor on her knight would be such a sensual experience, watch this youtube video, and then ramp it up about 30 notches since in my story, it's done between lovers: (remove spaces of course)

www . /watch?v=sEuhKRhrvRM (this is a youtube video, called Arming a Medieval Knight, and fan fic keeps messing up the link-I'll put it on my facebook group for those of you interested)

*sigh!* I'll put Sir Edward's breastplate on him any day! ;D

BTW, Sir Laurent did not wear chainmail under his armor (unlike this youtube video), because normally, knights did not do this. Chainmail would make it damn near impossible to move, especially during games. It's also very uncomfortable as well. This is why Edward was able to stab him under his armor, by slipping through the cracks, if you were wondering…

And also, in case you wanted to know, they did use pounds and ounces back then in England. I almost wanted to say his long sword weighed more than 2 stone, but when I looked it up, that was not correct. So, now you know… His sword was weighed, and came in at 32 pounds. Most armor for a knight weighed around 80 lbs, so they had to be really strong to handle all that bulky weight. I don't know how much the armor on the horse weighed. Probably something crazy like 115? Just guessing there since I'm too lazy to look it up. If you know the answer, tell me, and if I'm wrong on any of my research, feel free to tell me. I don't mind being corrected. I'd rather know so I don't go spouting off false information.