The Champion Read Online Free PDF

up to his midriff and it was cold. Alexander drew a shocked breath, his stomach clamping until it almost touched his spine. Shivers arrowed through him and his teeth chattered violently. Even had he been in the rudest of health with a surplus of meat on his bones, it was not the kind of day to linger over outdoor ablutions. He took the soap jar, tipped the contents over his head and body and set to with a will, scrubbing away several weeks of accumulated sweat and grime.
    Beneath the pummelling his skin reddened. His eyes stung from the strength of the soap, and he squeezed them shut. He ducked his head in the stream to swill the soap away, then stood up, thrusting the water from his face and hair. Then, gasping with exertion and cold, he opened his eyes.
    A young woman was approaching the stream, a stone water jar swinging from her hand. She appeared to be lost in her own thoughts, her eyes upon her feet, which performed intricate little skipping movements in time to the tune she was humming. Her head was bare, proclaiming her unbetrothed, still a child, although her figure bore womanly curves. A heavy plait of rich brown hair secured with a blue ribbon hung to her waist, and as she came closer, Alexander recognised her as the girl who had fed him soup yesterday. This was Monday de Cerizay, the daughter of Hervi’s partner, at whose fire they were going to dine.
    She crouched upstream of Alexander and sank the stone jar in the water to fill it. Still singing, she raised her head, and her grey eyes widened as she saw him standing there, naked, his modesty and hers protected only by the transparent distortions of the water. Droplets trickled down the fine dark line of his chest hair and disappeared into the stripe of fuzz below his navel. Her cheeks reddened and she turned quickly to the jar.
    Alexander wondered whether to speak or remain silent. It was not a situation for which he had any precedent. He decided that he would have to say something since he and Hervi were to be guests at her father’s fire. ‘Demoiselle.’ He gave her the formal greeting, and thought how foolish it sounded,
    She nodded shyly in return, and although her cheeks remained pink, she darted him another glance. ‘Are you feeling better today?’ Her eyes travelled to the discoloured bracelets on his wrists, then over the gaunt protrusion of his ribcage.
    ‘A little.’ He cleared his throat. ‘It was kind of you and your mother to concern yourselves with me yesterday.’
    ‘On the tourney circuit, we look after our own.’ She stood up, the water jar overflowing. ‘Hervi and my father have long been friends.’
    ‘Yes, he told me. Tonight we are to eat at your fire.’ In his own ears, his voice sounded stilted and awkward.
    She hefted the jug and splashes of water darkened her gown. ‘I have to go, my mother needs this,’ she said.
    Alexander nodded. He was shuddering with cold and could think of nothing else to say. But their eyes held for a long moment, each examining with curiosity something that was new and strange.
    Abruptly the girl swung on her heel, water slopping over the neck of the jar, and made her way back to the meadow, her gait one-sided from the weight of the pot.
    Alexander waded to the bank. Shivering violently, he dried himself on the old strip of linen Hervi had given him for a towel, his belly churning with a mixture of anticipation, fear and hunger at the thought of the meal to come.

C HAPTER 3
     
    Monday sat at the small portable trestle table, chopping onion and cabbage to add to the meat, barley and spices already simmering in the iron cauldron. Her mother was putting the finishing touches to a surcoat she had promised to have ready for one of the competing knights by dusk. The brass needle flashed in and out of the fabric with a speed and accuracy almost too fast to follow, but Clemence was beginning to squint as the light faded and her eyes grew tired.
    ‘Shall I light the lantern, Mama?’
    ‘No, I’ve