“And you’d be certain a feebleminded willow like this could have bested him?”
Lord Tomas did not like the question. His face puffed and reddened. “Some say the freak has a demon; his mother’s thought to be odd, perhaps a witch or sorceress.”
Simon took the man by the shoulder and spoke in low tones. “You needs be sure you’ve the right man.”
The hooded cleric shuffled forward and agreed. “Good lord,” he whispered, “if you have the wrong man, thy son’s soul shall not be avenged. I think it best you be careful that God’s will be done, else you shall never be at peace.”
Lord Tomas pounded a fist into his hand. “Nay! This monster is the one!”
Simon nodded. “I see. Then forgive me, sire. But perhaps trial by … combat would serve you best.”
Lord Tomas was startled. He faced Ingelbert. “Combat? He could bear no sword unless he truly has a demon—but a Christian knight would overcome and … Ah!” The man smiled wryly. “I understand. It shall be for our amusement.”
Lord Tomas whispered with his priest, then addressed the court. He spoke loudly and sternly. “Hear me. In the matter of the prisoner of Weyer, graciously yielded to our justice by his master, Abbot Stephen of Villmar, I, under the authority granted by the emperor and in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, do demand said accused to stand trial by combat.”
Baldric’s eyebrows arched. “Combat?” he whispered in astonishment. “’Tis an ancient way. I’ve not heard of it in my lifetime and ne’er for a peasant! Ha, the fool’s to be cut in two!”
Lord Tomas continued. “In honor of God’s will and perfect knowledge, I shall surrender my rights to the sword to my faithful proxy, Lord Hans of Saalfeld, a vassal in my lands of Thurungia.” An impressive young knight bowed. Tomas sensed a rumbling among the spectators. He cleared his throat and continued. “This decision has been made with the counsel of the Church and is right and fair. But, in mercy, I do not require either man to take the life of the other. The verdict shall be plain when one is the better.” His last words drew nods of approval, and Lord Tomas took his seat upon his high-backed, oak throne.
Ingelbert was lifted to his feet and his bonds were removed. He was given a long, two-handed sword with a chuckle from a guard. Tomas’s priest prayed over Hans and moved slowly toward Ingelbert. As he lifted his arms above the baffled lad, Simon’s voice suddenly bellowed through the crisp air of the castle yard.
“My lord, I declare my right to champion the accused.”
Lord Tomas nearly fell from his chair. His eyes bulged and he jumped to his feet. “What! What sort of trickery is this? You … you’ve no—”
“But I do! I have the right to stand in the man’s stead and so I shall! If you refuse me, may the lad’s blood be upon your soul at the Judgment.” Simon’s lips twitched with delight as Lord Tomas gawked incredulously.
The grinning knight and his black-robed cleric strode boldly into the open yard. The churchman winked at Ingelbert, and the lad’s eyes brightened as he recognized the kind face of Brother Lukas peeking from within the shadow of his hood.
“You must think me a fool!” bellowed Lord Tomas. “How dare you come to my lands and make a mockery of this trial!”
Simon stood straight-backed and turned. “Think of me as a vassal of justice, sire.” He smiled and the crowd began to applaud.
“Then so be it!” roared Tomas. “But now it shall be a test unto death!”
Hans turned nervously to his lord. “T-to the death?” Before he could speak another word the command of his master rang in his ears. “Serve me this day, man, or be stripped of all and shamed forever.” Hans swallowed hard and beckoned his squire to his side.
Neither knight was dressed for combat. They wore no chain mail or heavy leather jerkins. Neither had a shield or armored glove, not even so much as a quilted vest. Instead they were each dressed for comfort, Simon wearing only a fur cloak, a long, woollen tunic, loose breeches, and high leather boots. His opponent was dressed in similar fashion, though he sported a beaver cap that was now removed.
Hans was younger than Simon and a bit shorter. He was of average build and graceful. Simon was lankier and better seasoned, though not as nimble or quick-of-foot. Simon had learned to calculate an opponent’s strengths quickly, and he immediately recognized that Hans’s youth and agility would give the younger man advantage if they fought with short swords.
Simon turned to Lord Tomas. “My lord,” he offered shrewdly, “I carry only a short sword but it is one with which I have grown accustomed. I would prefer its use to the longer one you handed the simpleton.”