flower, turned away from the noble ladies with disgruntled eyes and tried their luck under the less upscale class.
In the meantime the one and a half steps high wall of lances was erected, which separated the riders from one another during the stabbing.
"My goodness, how silly" thought Raffael. Bored, he propped his head in his hand, stared straight ahead, looking for the grasp. This man was more interesting than the fluffed demeanor of some of the fighters. But he couldn't make it out anymore. Instead, Rondrasil Löwenbrand stepped onto the site.He didn't seem to be participating in the tournament.
He went to one of the tournament heralds, who were calling the fighters one by one, and stood next to him.
Raffael concluded that he would probably act as tournament marshal. Who would be better suited to decide on the victory of an honorable duel than a man for whom honor was above all else?
Raffael yawned broadly. He stretched out in his seat and regretted again that he had let himself go with Marie. He looked grimly at the men who huddled around in front of their own stands and hoped for the attention of the pretty girls.
Directly in front of him stood a young fellow in his brightly polished armor with a blue coat of arms, in the middle of which a black raven had spread his wings, ready to rise.
The young man held the narrow sword in his hand, the helmet under his arm.
Raffael looked at him. He couldn't have been twenty; his thin, pale face was too childish for that and his body, despite his armor, too thin.Raffael wondered what a "child" was doing in such a competition.
The boy's half-length, straight, brown hair danced in the spring breeze. He smiled brightly at the audience and searched. The face of the boy, from whose almost gray eyes the rogue spoke, finally got stuck on Raffael. The young man smiled at him, a beam lit up his eyes as if he recognized him, and then pointed his sword at him.
"I like you!" he said in a firm tone.
Raffael looked puzzled and almost laughed because he thought it was a joke.
The young man's eyes, however, indicated that he was completely serious.
Marie was also aware of this and winced. People began to laugh and one or the other nudged Raffael's elbow in the side. He only commented on the fuss with a few nasty words and then ignored them. It was embarrassing enough as it was.
He looked at the boy who was grinning and waiting for an answer, which the witcher immediately granted him."Sorry, young man, but maybe you shouldn't take part in the tournament when things are going so bad for your eyes! I'm not a girl!"
Raffael didn't want to embarrass him, but his words were more provocative than he intended. And he couldn't hide a certain resentment.
The knight in front of him didn’t seem to take offense at his words. His self-confidence, or his arrogance, was so great that his grin widened a lot.
"Well, I'm lucky if you're not one! I'm not looking for a girl either!" He said and winked at him.
Raffael was stunned. This youngster dug up at him. In front of everyone, in the presence of his wife! He had a child on his lap! Didn't this guy assume it could be his?
>> What is the matter with me << he asked himself.
Then he grinned back and grabbed the startled Marie, who only gave a low scream in surprise.Nathanael complained loudly about the rude treatment, but at the moment Raphael didn't care.
“I have to disappoint you, young gentleman!” He pressed Marie closer to himself “but I am no longer free.” With that he pressed Marie a deep and long kiss, which intensified the hooting of the people around her.
Only when Marie knocked on his arms did he let her go. Raffael grinned into her flushed face.
"Now we are even!"
Marie considered briefly what he meant and then grinned back when she remembered the market day.
She leaned her forehead against Raphael's in relief.
The witcher turned his head back to the man, but without losing contact with his wife.
"You see. I'm taken." he grinned.
The young knight smiled back. Apparently no one could wipe that self-assured grin off his face.
"Never mind, love doesn't last forever!" he said happily and turned to go. He put on his helmet and took two steps.Then he turned back to the witcher.
"I fight for you anyway, my friend" He indicated a bow and then hurried off to meet his squire.
The people around Raffael laughed and mocked.
"What kind of bird was that?" asked Fadime, who took her son back with a disapproving look.
Raffael had to laugh now.
"No idea."

The tournament -The black knight

The first two riders led their horses about eighty paces long. The lances were inserted, the shields tightly clasped by armored hands and the visors folded down.
It was quiet in the arena and only the quiet breathing of the crowd could be heard. One waited eagerly for the first lance passage.
The joust was dangerous for both riders, even if it was only tournament lances and thus the tips of the weapons were defused.
The horses danced restlessly and felt the tension. They puffed their nostrils and pawed their hooves nervously.Raffael looked spellbound at the fighters and followed the action with more interest than he wanted to admit. Rondrasil Löwenbrand held up a hand. In a moment he would give the signal and the riders dash towards each other.
The consecrated looked from one to the other. Both nodded and indicated that they were ready. The tournament marshal looked forward again and wanted to lower his hand.
There was a dull hoofbeat, a dark voice echoed across the square and interrupted the duel before it had begun. Raffael looked at the entrance next to the shield gallery.
A huge black steed with a rider in pitch black armor entered the arena. The coat of arms that he carried was also a uniform black. In one hand he held a mighty ox-earth that could separate anyone's head from their shoulders with just one blow, and in the other the almost three-foot-long lance made of black wood.
The man's helmet, the narrow slits of which allowed him to see, mimicked a large wolf's snout with black feathers fluttering at the tip, so long that they couldn't have come from crows or birds of similar size.This man was terrifying. Not only the presentation gave him a gloom that made the witcher's blood run cold. Also its unusual size of more than two paces. This man was a giant!
He led his horse into the middle of the court and both shadows weighed heavily on the tournament floor.
The mighty horse, with its shoulder height of more than two steps, trotted forward with slow and powerful movements. The witcher inevitably had to think of his own steed that he had stolen from Farviriol. This one was just as beautiful and noble, but many times larger and stronger. It almost reminded him of the creepy demon steed with which the elf had ended his first escape from Oron.
The crowd held their breath and Raffael did the same. Even the two fighters, whose fight had ever been interrupted, stared in the direction of the black monster.
A herald with a tournament role approached him cautiously and uncertainly, always casting a questioning glance at Rondrasil.Next to the giant, he looked more than lost. He was small and insignificant next to this nobleman.
"What .. is your ... name knight?" he asked humbly, looking anxiously along the two-step tall animal that didn't even look at him.
The black knight bowed his head and the black feathers waved excitedly in the mild wind.
"I don't need a name. I just need opponents that I can defeat!" a deep bass boomed from behind the visor.
The Herald winced at the powerful voice, like a beaten dog.
"And how ... wish ... you ... to be named in the gymnastics ...?" the little man stuttered and swallowed excitedly.
"Call me Dark Throat, if you need a name!" he boomed.
The Herald looked nervously at the tournament marshal, who hesitated briefly and then gave his approval with a curt nod. Rondrasil also showed that he was uncomfortable with this newcomer, but it was not uncommon for men and women who wanted to remain unknown and therefore participated under a psudonym.A black escutcheon was put up.
The Herald beside the knight let out a relieved breath and it was evident that he was more than grateful for the presence of Lionbrand. He turned back to the man in black, his voice firmer.
"Which disciplines do you wish to take part in?"
The knight straightened up and replied with a dangerous growl that echoed across the square:
"I will win everyone!"