William could smell the perfume in his visor. He had wrapped the scarf lady Jocelyn gave him round his head before wearing his helmet. William was certain Count Adhemar had seen Christiana over at his side of the list and knew the handmaid had brought a message from Jocelyn.

“Nice lance,” Wat said to William, pointing at the coronal at the tip of Count Adhemar’s lance. “Can we do that?”

William saw what Wat was talking about; the coronal at the end of Count Adhemar’s lance was shaped like a clenched fist instead on the regular nondescript ball.

“I wonder,” said William, “or maybe he just knows enough people to do that.”

The pursuivant held the flag up, and motioned for the two knights to stand ready.

“Roland,” William began, feverishly. “If you have any idea how to beat Count Adhemar, now might be the best time to talk.”

But Roland merely scratched his rough beards and shook his head. “No, I hate to say this but Count Adhemar is perfect. Absolute technique, resilient, and no peccadillo to pounce on.”

“So, I’m doomed?” asked William, flabbergasted.

“Not yet,” Roland said, “Just hit him in the center and hold on for dear life when he strikes you.”

“Very comforting, Roland, very comforting,” said William.

Scarcely had the pursuivant’s flag reached down when Count Adhemar kicked his horse into a furious ride.

“Lance!” William yelled and snatched the lance Wat before kicking his steed into action. His eyes, fixed as always, on the target tearing towards him like a bat out of hell.

Both horse galloped at each other with the speed of the wind like titans charging to ruins and fury.

There was a clap like ten thunders breaking forth in the sky, then a shattering sound like a tree cracking under the force of a tsunami.

William and Count Adhemar met at the exact middle of the list and shattered their lances into each other. Neither man was sitting straight when the lance crashed into them; they tilted backwards like drunks on horses before adjusting themselves again.

Roland and Wat ran up to William and held him on his horse. Their faces was a mirror that reflected the excitement brimming among the crowd.

William pulled his visor up and took in a sharp breath. “Ugh! I can’t breath!” His face was contorted as though he’d just gone deep diving without a snorkel.

“He hits like a hammer,” said William, breath hissing. “It’s amazing.”

“But not perfect,” said Roland, patting William on the laps. “He aims high. Roll back you right shoulder as you strike and his blow may glance to the right.”

William swallowed, still trying to breath properly. “But only if he strikes on the right,” he said, “if Count Adhemar goes for my left, I’ll be obliterated.”

Roland shrugged. “I didn’t say it wasn’t a gamble.”

“It’s the second pass, William,” said Wat, handing William a new lance. “You have to return to the list now.”

William took the lance and spun his horse around. Sure enough, Count Adhemar was ready for the second pass, as though the first barely did him any harm. But it did. William kept his eyes on the target, he’d seen Count Adhemar roll back on his horse so far, that but for the reins he’d be on the floor.

Count Adhemar kicked his horse into a run and William followed suit, thrusting his right shoulder forward temptingly. Lumps of wet earth shot up from under the horses hooves as they sped across the list.

William was almost giving up because Count Adhemar was still seemingly aiming at his dead center. Then, suddenly, the Count changed target and aimed for William’s right shoulder. A smile spread behind William’s visor.

Once they were inches within each other, William threw his right shoulder backwards and thrust his lance forward with the left hand.

As a result, Count Adhemar’s fist-tipped lance struck the empty air beside William. But he was not so lucky himself; William’s blow shattered into his left shoulder like waves on a rocky shore.

William was soon surrounded by an excited Wat and Roland.

“We can win this,” he heard Wat screaming, “We can win this!”