22 Ch. 22 Ser Barristan Selmy

Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the King's Guard, stood in the gleaming armor of the King's Guard at the edge of the jousting field. His white cloak drew the eye of many to him, but he was too busy to pay them any attention. He was studying the competition for the jousting tournament.

Such a grand tourney and winner's purse had drawn in knights from all seven kingdoms. Something deep inside Ser Barristan seemed to draw him to the allure of the lists. It was possible, he enjoyed the surge of adrenaline as he bore down on an opponent? So similar to facing another man on a field of battle.

Ser Barristan carefully evaluated each knight that took their turn at the lists, searching their movements for mistakes or tells. Most of the knights he witnessed were judged lacking in ability. Especially the numerous hedge knights that swarmed to join, hoping for a chance to win the victor's purse.

So when Ser Barristan noticed another two hedge knights taking the field, he did not have much hope of them to be able to give him any competition. Still, Ser Barristan wasn't one to underestimate an opponent and began to look over the first knight before quickly dismissing him.

The hedge knight was dark-haired with pockmarks on his cheeks. It wasn't his looks or his worn and dented armor that caused Barristan to doubt the knight's chances of winning. It was his jerky and halting control of his mount.

Horsemanship was invaluable in jousting. Your ability to fully control your mount while bearing a shield and lance is what separated a professional jouster and the common hedge knight.

Before Ser Barristan could turn his attention to the second hedge knight, a thunderous laugh sounded from a massive man a dozen paces away. A glance at the man marked him as Ser Lyle Crakehall, the Strongboar. The second son of Lord Roland Crakehall was talking with the heir of House Marbrand, Ser Addam Marbrand of Ashemark.

"I told you the boy would sneak into the lists!" The Strongboar declared in a booming voice. "Now, pay up," he happily said to his companion.

Ser Addam let out a disappointed sigh as he handed over a gold dragon. "I should have expected this. The boy has been performing too well for his ego not to be inflated." Ser Addam said.

It quickly dawned on Ser Barristan that the two Westerlands' knights were talking about one of their squires. A fond smile spread across the weathered face of Ser Barristan, as he recalled his own foolish attempt to ride in a list at the age of ten. Even with Prince Duncan humoring him, it was a humbling experience that taught him to never overestimate his own abilities.

With a bit of humor in his eyes, Ser Barristan turned to the second hedge knight, or the disguised squire, for a quick evaluation. What he found gave him pause. The alleged hedge knight wore a fine and well-fitted set of plate armor with gold accents etched into the pauldrons and a gilded frog-mouth helm. With his gold-colored shield, it would be easy for the spectators to name him the Golden Knight.

But his armor is not the only thing that gave Ser Barristan pause. It was also how easily the would-be knight handled his mount while keeping his shield and lance steady. Judging by the quality of the armor and the two knights discussing the squire, Ser Barristan began to suspect the true identity of his Golden Knight.

As the two combatants moved to the starting positions, Strongboar's voice was heard of the surrounding spectators. "I'll wager another gold dragon, the boy wins."

"One foolish bet is enough for one day," Ser Addam said as the two competitors kicked their mounts into a gallop.

As the jousters raced towards each other with lances held at the ready, Ser Barristan scrutinized every move of the disguised squire. He moved in sync with his mare and held his lance unwaveringly and level. Ser Barristan admitted the squire rode far better than he expected.

It was no surprise when the dark-haired hedge knight was sent tumbling into the dirt. The squire performed superbly, with only a few flaws Ser Barristan could spot in the single tilt. While an ill-trained hedge knight isn't much to boast about, Ser Barristan suspected many of the knights present would have been unhorsed by that charge.

The newly dubbed Golden Knight steered his mare to the boundary of the jousting field. He then leaned towards the smallfolk standing behind the wooden barrier and allowed them to grasp at his gauntleted hand as he trotted by.

The smallfolk roared in excitement and desperately reached for the outstretched hand as the knight neared them. Such a simple act, and yet the spectators loved it.

"We may just see a young man earn his spurs today," Ser Barristan said aloud, before turning away from the field. It was nearly time for him to begin getting ready for his own turn at the lists.

*****************

Sitting in the privacy of the King's Guard tent, Ser Barristan sipped on a glass of watered wine as he rotated his left shoulder. Making it into the finals was not without cost. Only two of Ser Barristan's four bouts didn't go all three tilts.

His armor may have prevented any injuries or bruising, but he was sure his shoulder would be stiff for several days. At sixty name-days, he just wasn't as able to shrug off such effects anymore.

Ser Barristan lowered his shoulder and turned to face the tent flap as a dust-covered Ser Jaime stepped into the tent. He quietly watched an irritated Jaime Lannister remove his white cloak and begin to clean off the dirt and sawdust.

When Ser Jaime seemed to get a grasp on his emotions, Ser Barristan placed his cup down and began to tighten his armor.

"I thought I would be facing you in the finals," Barristan causally said to Jaime.

"And you should be," Jaime bit out as he threw a cleaning rag to the ground. "I nearly unhorsed him in the second tilt. I was too eager to put some upstart hedge knight into the dirt and over-extended on the last tilt. I couldn't regain my balance fast enough," Jaime explained as he drew a deep calming breath. "I gave away my victory to some bloody Golden Hedge Knight."

A slight smirk took shape on Barristan's lips. If his suspicions about the identity of the Golden Knight were correct, Barristan would greatly enjoy the sight of Jaime's face at the reveal.

Before Ser Barristan could respond, a young man stuck his head into the tent. "It is time for the finale, Ser Barristan. You will be facing the Golden Knight," the young servant said before retreating from the tent.

Ser Barristan picked up his helm and turned to exit the tent when Jaime spoke up. "He leans to the right, just before impact," Jaime didn't wait for a reply as he picked up a new rag to finish cleaning his cloak.

Ser Barristan stared at Jaime's back for a moment before stepping out of the tent and approached his horse. Taking hold of the horn on the saddle, Barristan swung and into the saddle with practiced ease. Donning his helm, Barristan guides his mount towards the jousting field.

Once he arrived at the list, Barristan rode towards the Royal Viewing Stage to pay homage to King Robert and the tourney host, Lord Twyin Lannister. The Golden Knight began to make his way towards the viewing area from the other side of the field.

Barristan and his opponent arrived in front of the stage near the same time. Barristan tried to see into the gilded frog-mouth helm, but it was too dark to make out any identifying features.

Looking towards King Robert, Barristan could see the familiar signs of his joyful and drunk liege. Unlike the king, Lord Tywin was staring at the Golden Knight with a piercing gaze.

The Lord Paramount's face confirmed who Ser Barristan's opponent was. Lancel Lannister, a boy of one-and-ten and the presumed heir to Casterly Rock. To make it to the final match in a grand tourney spoke volumes of the boy's potential. Of course, this wouldn't stop Barristan from trying to unhorse the boy.

With the king's blessing, both competitors wheeled their mounts around and trotted to their starting positions. Taking his shield and lance from a young squire, Ser Barristan turned his attention to his opponent.

The Golden Knight already stood ready, with his shield in place and lance firmly in hand. Without the need for a signal, the two knights kicked their mounts into a gallop.

Barristan focused on his timing as the moment of impact grew close. As if the world around him ceased to exist, the Golden Knight became the center of Ser Barristan's world. The only sound he could hear was his own steady breathing, echoing inside his helm.

In this hyper state, Barristan effortlessly tracked his opponent's every move and adjusted his lance with practiced ease. With a steady lance tip held on target, Ser Barristan braced for the inevitable impact.

The Lord Commander of the King's Guard was rocked back into reality as the jarring impact of shattered lances knocked both knights back in their saddles. Regaining his balance, Ser Barristan pulled his horse to a stop at the end of the list to the deafening roar and applause of the crowd.

As an unknown squire raced over with another lance, Ser Barristan replayed that last tilt in his mind. The boy was good, damn good. But Ser Jaime was right, the boy leans to the right just before impact.

With a plan in place, Ser Barristan wheeled his mount into position and immediately kicked the destrier into a gallop. Barristan watched as his opponent followed suit and began racing towards him.

The sounds of the roaring crowd were purged from Ser Barristan's mind, as he leveled his lance just to the outside of Lancel's shield. The moment of truth arrived in the blink of an eye, and the resounding crack of splintered lances was all he heard.

Ser Barristan was laid fully back on his horse for a moment before he regained his bearings and pulled himself back up. By the Old and New Gods, he was not expecting that. Apparently, Lancel was able to spot an opening in Barristan's own technique and nearly capitalized on it.

Reaching the end of the list, Ser Barristan tossed aside the ruins of his lance. The booming cries of an ecstatic audience disoriented Barristan's senses for a moment. Wheeling his destrier around, Ser Barristan the Bold witnessed a dirt-covered Golden Knight, standing on the ground and removing his helm before the crowd.

With his helm finally off, all present took in the sight of the handsome and young, Lancel Lannister. With a small smile on his face, Lancel gave a shallow bow and wave to all four sides of the tourney field to the enjoyment of the smallfolk.

Ser Barristan was bringing his mount towards the unhorsed Lancel when Lancel's own mare trotted up beside the boy. As if he was unarmored, Lancel grabbed the horn of the saddle and swung himself upon his mount in one smooth motion.

With a smile still on his face, Lancel wheeled his horse alongside Ser Barristan and bowed deeply to the Lord Commander of the King's Guard.

"Congratulations, Ser," Lancel said as he raised up from his bow. "And might I say, this was an experience and honor I will never forget," Lancel spoke with respect and cheer.

Ser Barristan smiled at the young man. "You just may become the youngest knight in the history of Westeros," Barristan said. Reaching over, Ser Barristan grabbed Lancel's wrist and hoisting his arm into the air, to the overpowering shouts of the crowd.