Sir Rowan and the Camerian Conquest Read Free Page B

affairs.”
    “Ah … what affairs?” Rowan asked as he looked at Lord Gavaah.
    Gavaah smiled. “Well, there’s your money, your time, and”—Gavaah raised a hand to gesture toward the edge of the platform—“your followers.”
    Rowan’s eyes opened wide as hundreds of people began to shout excitedly.
    “I’ve also arranged for a trainer to help keep you in shape for the next round of tournaments. Mr. Balenteen will arrange a meeting with Sir Hatfield tomorrow.”
    Lord Gavaah slapped Rowan on the back again. “Get ready to make your dreams come true, young knight.” He turned about, his purple cloak swirling in the wake behind him.

THE VICTORY CLOAK
     
    Mr. Balenteen was an irritating little man with a balding head and a short black mustache, but Rowan quickly saw the genius in his methods and came to rely heavily upon him over the next few months. The victory over Sir Tarrington had catapulted Rowan from a no-name tournament knight to a Camerian hero. His new status brought not only a whole new level of wealth and popularity but a dizzying schedule of appearances and high-level meetings.
    Mr. Balenteen managed all of that, making sure that Rowan appeared where and when he was expected. He managed Rowan’s finances, helping him negotiate the complications of sudden fame, even making arrangements for Rowan to purchase and furnish a large estate on the east side of the city. He also kept his eye out for any chance to promote Rowan’s reputation—which is why Rowan now stood facing a long line of young men brandishing swords and shields.
    As he had occasionally done before, Mr. Balenteen was offering money to squires to skirmish against Rowan for training purposes. It was great publicity for Rowan, since many relished the opportunity to fight against someone so famous, even if their chances of winning were nil. Additionally, the sum that Mr. Balenteen offered was enough to enticesome of the better fighters into the arena with Rowan, giving him at least a small challenge from time to time. Rowan’s trainer, Sir Hatfield, had never been fond of the idea and closely supervised each event.
    The sky was blue and the sun hot. After a dozen duels and a dozen victories, Rowan took off his helmet and wiped the sweat from his brow.
    Sir Hatfield raised his hand. “That’s enough for today.” He walked toward Rowan. The trainer was a bulky red-headed fellow who knew the sword well and had studied all of the great fighters, both past and present. He also had the tournament experience that Rowan lacked.
    Groans of disappointment rose up from the fifteen men still waiting for their chance at the money and the fight.
    “Come back tomorrow, and we’ll give you another chance,” Balenteen said with a smile as he shooed the men toward the arena exit.
    Hatfield shot Balenteen a look of disgust, then motioned him over. “What are you doing, Balenteen?” Hatfield put his hands on his hips but continued before the smooth-talking agent could answer. “I’ve got some serious training yet to do with Rowan, and these little publicity antics of yours are getting in the way!”
    “It’s Rowan’s fame that pays our wages,” Balenteen shot back. “We
both
have jobs to do—”
    Rowan shook his head and turned away so his amusement wouldn’t show. Balenteen and Hatfield were each the best at their jobs, which is why they were always getting on each other’s nerves. At first Rowan had tried to smooth out their relationship, but eventually he had realized the futility of it. Now he just laughed and walked away. Besides, he was eager to clean up and relax after his long day at the arena.
    Rowan sheathed his sword and walked over to his knapsack, glancing once more toward Balenteen and Hatfield, who were deep in a heated discussion as they walked out through the arena gate. The tired knight flung his victory cloak about his shoulders and fastened the tie across his chest. Then he picked up his knapsack and turned to leave,