Falcons of Ormond
A Novel of Medieval England
by
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Somewhere, a drum rolled and Mark could feel Noblé’s muscles gathering strength for the trumpet’s flourish to begin. Then his stallion was pounding toward the other knight. He remembered at the last moment to lean forward and tuck his injured right arm close to his body. In it, he held his deadly lance level and aimed directly in the middle of his enemy’s chest. At the second of impact, Simon’s lance wavered and missed. Thrown off by LeSare’s error, Mark’s lance glanced harmlessly off his shield. A sigh ran through the crowd. Now at opposite ends of the field, Mark waited impatiently for the signal to begin the second run. His confidence grew and coursed from his brain to his body. Already his right arm ached, but it always ached. He ignored it. The trumpet blared and Noblé drove straight down the field. This time, Mark aimed for Simon’s left side, hoping to make the man drop his shield. He scored a hit but could not stop Simon’s lance from striking the center of his cuirass. The horses thundered past. Simon had lost his shield and broken his lance. Mark saw that he was refusing a fresh lance and taking up his mace instead. The mace. Why had Gwyneth warned him about it? Mark gripped his lance tightly against his body and tried to get air into his starving chest, pained by Simon’s blow. This was the last course; then they would fight on foot. Sweat was running into his eyes, blurring his vision, already hampered by his closed helm. Recklessly, he raised his vizor. His face was now vulnerable but at least he could see the field. The last trumpet sounded and both horses leaped forward. Nearly there, Mark braced himself and forced his body forward, his lance poised to unseat the younger man. Simon swung his mace but nothing happened. He felt himself falling and hit the frozen ground with a bone-jarring crash. Dazed, he wondered why the mace had failed him and found it was still in his hand. He realized that in his excitement, he had forgotten to press the catch. The black horse galloped toward him. Mark dismounted and drew his sword. Frantically, Simon scrambled up, pressed the catch and swung his mace. The metal whip uncoiled with a sharp crack! and circled Ormond’s waist, dragging him down. Mark fell heavily on his right side. A flash of pain burned in his brain. He shook his head to clear it. He had lost his helm but still held his sword. What had happened? What kind of weapon was Simon using?
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About the Book
1403 --
Kit is brave, passionate about falconry, but fears marriage to a stranger her late father's age. To stop the ceremony, she seeks help from a mystical wisewoman, Gwyneth Morgan, but even Gwyneth's Druid powers cannot prevent the King's decree.
Mark and Kit are separated by the ordeals of war. They remain virtual strangers until they meet again at court. Kit is a lady-in-waiting to the Queen and has grown into a lovely young woman. Sir Mark has been gravely wounded and faces a duel to the death with his mortal enemy, while Kit is fighting for her life against the schemes of Mark's jealous mistress and the dark forces of witchcraft which surround her.
This novel is filled with adventure and mystery built on a solid framework of research. The Falcons of Ormond is a memorable read for lovers of historical fiction. Highly recommended.