I leaned against the door, enjoying a moment of solitude. The curtains were drawn and the wisps of sunlight that filtered in barely lit the space. Movement caught my eye.
I pulled the knife from my boot ready for close quarter combat before I realized that my brother was sitting at his table with a rag to his cheek.
"Are they gone?" Benate asked barely above a whisper.
"Who?" I responded.
Benate dunked the cloth back into a bowl in front of him to reveal a scratch across his cheek and a torn collar of his shirt. I had not seen any injuries happen during his fight with Sir John.
"And what happened to you?" I added motioning to his entire being.
"Women!" Benate answered as he crossed to the window and barely peeked through an opening.
"I am going to need more of an explanation than that." The list of women that my brother would find it proper to fight was rather short. Outside of Lady Calista, I could not think of anyone crazy enough to challenge him outright.
"As I was leaving my match with Sir John, I jokingly took a favor from a young lady in the crowd to wipe my brow. I tossed it back to her as a trophy from the match, because I did not want to launder a sweaty handkerchief and thought she might want it back." Benate began before darring a peak out the door.
He shut the door gingerly before cursing under his breath. I think he must have seen his mountain of favors waiting for him.
"Well, that made other women in the crowd want their own favors. When I could not produce enough for them, the mob came for me. One woman tried to take my shirt from my back and scratched my cheek in her zeal." Benate shook his head as he relived the memory.
"I ran for my life, or rather shirt. I finally lost the majority of them before I snuck home. I did not even get to see the second match. Who won?" Benate asked.
"Wait. You mean to tell me that you will face the premiere champions of the country at the tip of a sword, but a crowd of women was nearly your downfall today?" I laughed lightly.
"I do not fight women," Benate replied. "Mother would kill me."
"I will be sure to inform Lady Calista that she is not considered a woman in your book." I jabbed. At least Benate could brighten my day.
Benate threw a pillow at me from across the room. "You know what I mean." I dodged the pillow and picked it up from the ground.
"To answer your question, Carrion won" I added that he was a cheating filthy pig in my head. Hopefully Benate would not push too much for a play by play.
"Ah man. I think Sir Gavin is more fun to watch. He is so rigid but precise with a blade." Benate looked disappointed.
I held in my own disappointment. I did not trust myself not to spill everything I believed with my brother. Benate had a way of acting on impulse that made him unreliable with such information.
With my luck, his daily handiman work would somehow always go by Lord Carrion's home until one man bumped into the other in a questionable way. I did not want Benate stooping to such tactics. Especially since my brother was more common than court trained.
Common. The word ran through my head again. Maybe Gella's father would think that Benate would be a better match for her. She said she did not have a letter for him, but maybe they already had some type of understanding that I did not know about.
Benate peaked out the window again before retreating to his bowl and cold compress. The scratch slowly faded. With any luck, our mother might not notice the puckered skin tomorrow. If he could stay out of her sight until then.
"Is your plan to hide out here the rest of the day?" I asked.
Benate's shoulders slumped. "Yes. With any luck, I can ask a girl to take my arm tomorrow at the tournament and deter any well wishers from mobbing me again. Surely Queen Valerie would allow one more in the royal box"
The tournament participants always joined the royal family for the final match in the tournament. Babysitting tomorrow could be a lot more interesting.
"What do you think of Gella?" I asked pushing together the couple that Eumund might find acceptable.
"What do you mean? Should I think of her as a sister?" Benate put down his compress to smirk from ear to ear.
"Do you think of her as a sister? I was suggesting an escort for tomorrow." I added flatly.
The floorboards beneath us rang out as someone screamed. "YOU SAID WHAT?!" clearly echoed from below in Gella's sweet soprano.
Benate and I both looked at the floor before sharing a glance of perplexity. I sighed. I guess that Eumund's speech was not rehearsed in front of his daughter.
Moments later the third step creaked loudly outside. Someone knocked forcefully on the door.
My brother and I both motioned for the other to take on the task of answering the door. I shook my head quickly as his hand kept silently pointing toward the door. He swatted in my direction, pleading his case by picking up his torn collar with his other hand.
I threw my hands outward, motioning to the room and then pointed toward him. It was after all his home, not mine. He should have to play host.
He motioned for us to play a child's game of sword, stone, and parchment to leave it to luck on who might have to answer the unknown caller. We readied our fists for the game.
On a silent count of three, we both produced a closed fist representing stone, incorrectly assuming the other brother would pick a sword.
Before a second round could decide our fate, a woman's voice called through the door.
"Lord Holden, may I speak to you?"
Benate stood, knocking back his chair as his hands raised in victory. I would have to answer the door.