“Of course I will,” she said, beaming at Oz with a look of pride she had reserved for William until now.
William drained his cup and stood. “Excellent. Now, I think it’s time to head outside and see what sort of straw Duncans the teams have created.”
Ruskin had just sent the teams to the meeting hall when they arrived, leaving the three judges to inspect the results in peace. When they saw the first figure, even Agatha’s normally stern face broke into a smile. A common scarecrow sat atop a throne of hay bales, but in place of a head sat a pig’s skull. A moss beard was pasted onto the snout, and a garland of weeds served as a crown. The Pig King held a scepter fashioned from a broken spade, pounded into the ground to keep it upright.
“Would King Duncan be caught dead in those old boots?” asked Jack.
“I doubt any villagers would wear them,” said William as he chuckled.
The second figure drew even more laughter. Hidden from the first, it drew no inspiration from its counterpart. Someone had found a discarded milking stool to serve as a throne, a thin branch in place of one missing leg. Torn pants hung from the stool like a pair of deflated legs, and the king’s body was no more than a tower of cross-hatched sticks. Perched precariously on top was a bucket that threatened to fall over. “Don’t breathe on it, Clyde,” said William. “I’d like to get the judges’ results before it collapses.”
“This was a dumb event, Will,” said Jack. “I’ll admit mustering is sensible; you might need it one day. But what does this accomplish?”
Miss Plevins tut-tutted him. “I remember your pictures in school, Jack. They weren’t worthy of hanging in any lord’s manor, and usually I couldn’t even tell what you had drawn—but you always showed imagination, and that’s all I wanted from you.”
“They’re original, if nothing else,” said Ruskin, whose expression suggested he could think of nothing else.
“We’ll judge on three criteria,” Miss Plevins continued. “Originality, Use of Materials, and Effort. Each judge will decide which king best displays these three qualities. Three judges, three criteria.” She handed paper and pencil to both Melissa and Agatha, and the three judges began writing.
To William’s surprise, all three judges finished quickly. He accepted their papers with a bewildered look, tucking them into his coat without reading them. “Really?” he asked. “You all made sense of…this?” He waved his hand at the two effigies and looked back at the judges, who simply nodded and smiled. “Okay then. Let’s head to the meeting hall and announce the results.”
The teams were waiting on their respective sides, more orderly and hushed than ever before. He climbed the stairs to the dais and addressed the crowd, waving the judges’ notes in the air. “The judges have given me their decisions. There are nine points overall; the team with five points or more will win this event.” He looked at the first page. “The first judge scores one point for King Buckethead on originality, and two points to King Pighead for effort and use of materials. King Pighead leads two to one.” A cheer broke out on Santiago’s side.
William read the second note and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “The second judge scores the exact opposite. Two points for King Buckethead, one for King Pighead. The teams are tied at three points each.” This time a cheer erupted on Kofi’s side.
He read the third note and groaned. He turned to the table behind and him and shot a glance at Melissa who simply shrugged and shot him a mischievous smile. He faced the crowd again and read the results in a dreary voice. “The third judge scores one point for King Buckethead for originality, one point for King Pighead for use of materials…and half a point each for effort. The event is tied.”
Santiago jumped up and wagged a finger at Kofi. “Ha! Best you can do is a tie, now! Better not wear your good clothes, my outhouse needs cleaning.” His team cheered behind him while Kofi and his team shouted back insults of their own.
William rushed to the table and leaned toward Melissa, fuming. “Why would you do that? Listen to them fighting! We have three judges, three points apiece. We designed it to avoid a tie.”
She returned his scowl with an unapologetic smirk. “Looks like the design was flawed. Lighten up, Will. This is fun. Both teams will try harder now.”
“But you’ve made it all worse!” he said, exasperation giving his voice an edge. “I have no problem with fun. But there’s supposed to be a winner and a loser.”
“Is there?” she asked, all trace of amusement gone from her face.
He turned away from Melissa and headed for the door. “Let’s start the next event, Ruskin,” he said as he stomped away with Clyde on his heels. Staying ahead of the others, he reached the fence along the northern border of the manor grounds and waited for the crowd to catch up. On the top fence rail stood three targets constructed of flattened stones piled on top of each other in a roughly bird-like shape, set about a foot apart, the middle one smaller than the other two.
William kept his gaze away from the crowd that followed. An arm slipped around his. “Are you angry at me?” Melissa asked.
“You know I am,” he snapped. “I asked for your help in this because it’s important. This is a trial, and I need you to take it seriously.”
She reached up and brushed the hair from his eyes. “Will, sweetheart, this stopped being a trial the moment you sentenced them to ‘have fun’. Yes, I heard about that, and I thought it was brilliant. Miss Plevins thought so too.”
His glare softened, but only somewhat. “We’ll talk later. I need to make my announcement now.” He pulled his arm from hers and stepped on the bottom fence rail and faced the crowd. “How many of you have had your crop seeds eaten by birds?” he asked. “I know, silly question. What we have here is a stone pigeon that’s stealing your seeds.” He pointed at the middle target. “On either side is a stone goose that you’re fattening for Arrival Day feast. Each team will take turns trying to hit the pigeon without hitting the geese. You get one point for hitting the pigeon, two for knocking it down. One point will be deducted if you hit a goose. There are three markers at increasing distances from the fence. Each person will start at the nearest line. If they hit the pigeon from there, they can try again from the second line for double the points. Another hit, and they can try from the final line for triple.” He walked to the first line and pointed to two buckets. “You may throw either sticks or stones. Sticks offer a better chance for a hit, but may not knock the pigeon over—and you stand a greater chance of hitting one of your geese. Santiago, your team is ahead; you throw first.”
Santiago approached his mark and reached for a stick. He threw side-arm, sending the stick twirling toward the fence. The stick smacked into the stone pigeon, sending the top stone tumbling. A cheer arose from his team as the judges conferred. Miss Plevins shouted, “Judges rule that a knock-down. Two points for Team Santiago!”
Santiago stood at the second line as Ruskin reset the pigeon. His second throw missed, bouncing off the fence and brushing against the goose on the left. “One point subtracted…team Santiago leads by one,” said Miss Plevins.
“Your turn, Kofi,” said William.
Kofi stepped to the line and selected a large stone. After a moment’s pause, he fired it at the stone pigeon, sending it flying. A cheer rose from his team as Ruskin and Oz scrambled to reassemble the pieces. Jack approached William and whispered, “This may take a while.”
“At least they’re not fighting,” William whispered back.
“For now,” said Jack.
Kofi’s second throw missed. “Team Kofi leads by one point,” shouted Miss Plevins.
Jack whispered to him again. “This’ll be boring, watching sixty people throw sticks and stones. How did you convince me to get involved in this?”
“You had nothing better to do, remember?”
“We could have gone hunting again. I still haven’t gotten my first kill.”
William grinned at him. “Watching you shoot is twice as boring as this. At lea
st some of these people are hitting their targets.”
The two teams took turns, the captains each nominating their next competitor. Favoring their older, more experienced teammates, the results stayed mostly even, with most hitting one or two targets, a few missing completely, and the occasional one knocking a stone goose for a loss. The lead alternated between the two teams until a little more than halfway through, when Kofi’s team was down to elderly folks and children who had trouble hitting the target, let alone knocking it down. By the time six contestants remained on each team, Santiago’s team led by ten points.
Santiago’s team began celebrating, cheering their opponents’ every miss. That their own team was missing too meant nothing except being one round closer to victory.
“Is this the sort of harmony you were looking for?” asked Jack. “Half your village will resent the other half for rubbing it in. You should have just fined them, Will.”
“Give it a chance, Jack. They were at each other’s throats over actual damage before. Now it’s just over a contest. It’s an improvement.”
“Not much of one, if you ask me.”
William shrugged. “I’ll accept any improvement at this point.”
The crowd, too, was getting restless. Watching person after person throw and miss had begun to bore them, although a half-hearted cheer arose from Kofi’s team when the second-to-last thrower, a small boy, glanced a shot off the pigeon. “Team Santiago now leads by nine,” yelled Miss Plevins.
Santiago’s last thrower missed, leaving one remaining thrower for Kofi’s team: the girl he’d chosen last, and who had come first in the mustering race. She pulled a sling from her pocket and grabbed a stone from the nearly empty bucket.
Santiago pushed his way through the crowd and addressed the judges. “Hey, that’s not fair! Everyone else threw theirs.”
All eyes turned to William, including the judges’. William scratched his chin. The result was out of reach, so what did it matter? “A pigeon doesn’t care how a stone was launched so much as whether she’ll be hit. I’ll allow it. Go ahead—what’s your name?”
“Diana,” said the girl in a clear voice, her head held high.
He nodded at the girl. “Go ahead Diana. Show us what you can do with that.”
Diana stepped to the line, twirled the sling, and released. A sharp crack rang through the air as the target exploded into pieces. The crowd gasped in astonishment. “Two points,” said Miss Plevins. “Team Santiago leads by seven. Go again from the second line.”
The young girl, now full of confidence, grabbed another stone and stood behind the second line. Another twirl, another crack, and another stone pigeon flew apart. This time the crowd cheered, including Santiago’s team, as no one thus far had knocked over the target from the second line cleanly. “Four points,” said Miss Plevins. “The lead is down to five points. Remember, the third line is triple points.”
Diana nodded and grabbed her last stone. Standing behind the final line, she stared at the final target briefly. She spun the sling and released, the stone whirring as it spun through the air to shatter the target. “Six points!” yelled Miss Plevins. “Team Kofi wins the event by one point!”
Bedlam ensued. Several of Kofi’s team lifted Diana to their shoulders and carried her in celebration, cheering her name. Santiago’s team showed a few disappointed faces, but most applauded, including Santiago himself. “Does that look like resentment to you?” asked William as he gave Jack a grin.
Jack shook his head and smiled. “I guess not.”
As the elation subsided, William stood on the bottom rail again and addressed the crowd. “The games are tied, which means we have no winner, and no loser, and by the terms of the sentence, neither of you is obligated to the other. Are you both satisfied?”
Kofi and Santiago, at the front of the crowd, gave each other questioning looks. After a brief shrug, the two men smiled at each other and shook hands. “I was unkind to you,” said Santiago to Kofi. “It won’t happen again.”
“I answered unkindness with unkindness of my own. I was childish,” said Kofi.
“Quick,” said someone from the back. “Someone else have a fight so we can have another trial!”
As the laughter died down, William addressed the crowd again. “I ordered these games because I came to realize you were all bored. The busy times tire us, but the idle times do us the most harm. I hope you had fun, but I also hope this reminded you that we excel when we work together. And most importantly, that when you ask for help…” He gazed over at Melissa. “…you should accept the help you’re given. It may not be what you asked for, but it might end up being better.”
Someone in the crowd called out. “Three cheers for the Defender of Rebel Falls!” Every voice joined in the cheer while William tried desperately not to blush.
“What a mildly adequate apology,” said Melissa as they walked hand in hand back to the manor.
“I couldn’t demean myself in front of the villagers now, could I?” he asked with a chuckle. “Seriously though, I was no kinder to you than Kofi and Santiago were to each other. Will you forgive me?”
She looked up at him and pretended to remain angry. “I should leave for home tomorrow without answering and let you stew about it…but yes, I forgive you. Now take me inside and romance me with Mrs. Gracey’s cooking,” she said. “Hopefully something other than duck.”
Chapter 10
Ruskin stuck his head in the dining hall. “Blue pennants reported, my lord.”
William sipped his tea and looked up. “How many, and how far off?”
“Three, sir,” said Ruskin. “You have time to finish your breakfast if you hurry. Should I stay?”
“I’ll send Oz if I need you. Just pennants? No banners?”
Ruskin chuckled. “That would be the day,” he said as he departed.
William gulped his tea and handed the cup to Oz. “Better ask Mrs. Gracey to brew another batch. We have visitors.”
“Yes, sir,” said Oz as he began clearing dishes from the dining hall table. “Can I ask, sir? What’s blue pennants?”
William buttered another slice of bread and nodded at Oz. “I forgot you wouldn’t have heard that before. A clerk carries a blue pennant to signify that he’s traveling on his earl’s behalf. If there’s also a banner, it means the earl himself is traveling.”
“Why do they do that?”
William shrugged as he stuffed the last sausage into his mouth and wiped his hands. “Tradition. But also, to let people know to expect their arrival, and to treat them accordingly. Which is why I need you to go ask Mrs. Gracey to brew another kettle of tea.”
“Yes sir, right away. Only…”
William sighed. “Yes, Oz. What is it?”
“What about other pennants? Does anyone use other colors?”
“Well, I could carry a green banner on my own lands. And for that matter, you and Ruskin could carry green pennants while acting on my authority. But that would be pointless, because everyone knows you both work for me. A duke is entitled to red banners and pennants within his borders, but I’ve only ever seen the duke’s pennants in Marshland—never a banner.”
“What about the king?” asked Oz. “Doesn’t he get any?”
William laughed. “You and I will never witness it, but the king travels with purple banners and pennants lined in gold. From what I hear, the king never travels beyond the gates of New Athens.”
“Really? Why not? If I was king, I’d go everywhere I could.”
William looked around to see if anyone else was listening. Satisfied, he turned back to Oz. “Some say he’s too busy, others claim he’s too afraid to leave his own home. Speaking of home, mine is about to be invaded, so I’ll need that tea started right away.”
Oz left with the remains of William’s breakfast, leaving him to ponder the meaning of a visit from an earl’s official. Were there more papers to sign? Had he violated some unknown protocol? Or had the games in place of a trial two week
s earlier roused Earl Bradford’s ire? He looked down at the green dragon lounging by the fireplace. “What do you think, Clyde? Will this visit make me happy or not?”
Clyde barely opened an eye at William’s question, but seconds later his head perked up at the sound of the brass door knocker echoing through the manor. The sound of voices drifted into the dining hall, followed by footsteps. “My lord,” said Oz. “Ellison Alred to see you on behalf of Earl Bradford.” A tall, studious looking man bowed in William’s direction. Behind him stood two guards in full uniform, spears and all, their faces obscured by full dress helmets.
William stood to meet his guests. “Thank you, Oz. Please have Mrs. Gracey come in at once with refreshments. Mr. Alred, I haven’t heard your name before. How long have you worked for Earl Bradford?”
Alred cast a wary eye at Clyde before answering. “Long enough, my lord. I have serious business to discuss with you that—”
William raised his hand to interrupt. “Mr. Alred, by my estimate you and your escorts have ridden for four hours. You can take a moment for tea and cake, I’m sure. Here comes Mrs. Gracey now.”
Alred watched as Mrs. Gracey arranged the trays. “If you insist, my lord. But my escorts, as you call them, are on duty and must refrain.”
William cut four slices of cake and smiled. “Mr. Alred, it’s no secret that I once wanted to be a guard. I’m familiar with King Stephen’s code. Not only are they allowed to eat and drink, you are responsible for ensuring they have the opportunity.”
Alred and the two guards looked at each other for a moment’s pause, after which Alred nodded his approval. The guards sat, but did not remove their helmets, opting instead to eat and drink through the small opening in their face guards.
William ignored the breach in protocol, only barely raising an eyebrow. He turned to Alred, who declined a piece of cake, accepting only tea. “Thank you, Mrs. Gracey, that will be all for now,” said William. “Oz, please stick around in case we need anything else. Now, what’s this about serious business, Mr. Alred?” asked William.
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