by Jacky Gray
As they took the huge wicker voting basket to the long table behind the stage, he turned to the audience. ‘This is my favourite bit of the competition. I hope you will join in by trying to work out the solutions, but please keep them to yourselves. Anyone shouting out answers will be removed and a new question will be asked.’ Some of the juniors seated at the front of the audience were getting a little restless with the wait and he gave them a stern glare before turning to the Worthies.
‘Will you all please pick up your slate and chalk? Remember, if you show your answer before the bell it will be discounted, even if it is correct. And the first question is …’ he paused for dramatic effect. ‘Name two of the festivals which celebrate the harvest.’ He turned the five-second timer upside down and the iron pellets made a tinkling sound as they ran from the top glass bowl into the bottom one.
When the timer finished, he rang a bell and the competitors held their answers up for all to see. The audience decided whether their chosen Worthy had got it right, and applauded or teased accordingly. Each professor was assigned to a clan and checked the answers of the two contestants, turning over the points on the small easels in front of them. The next five questions also used the five-second timer; the final five were harder, with ten seconds thinking time. At the end of the round, Fletch trailed slightly behind the rest and Patricia was the only one with a full score.
The chairs were moved together so they could confer in the pair round. Each clan had two specialist questions. Edlyn insisted on his incorrect answer to the question about herbs for the Samhain ritual, losing the Magi team a point. Archer, Patricia and Bethia were now joint top. In the final round, each contender came to the front of the stage and answered three questions about their Worthy.
Archer was first, his intensive research paid off and he answered all of his easily, ending up with nineteen points. Edlyn came next. He hesitated on the date of his second election to consul, trying to decide between two dates, searching the audience as though someone would tell him. Just as the five-second timer ran out, he gave the wrong year, ending up with seventeen. Fletch answered his first two questions correctly, giving him sixteen, so it all hung on the last one. He stood there, looking every inch a king, hiding any nerves behind a calm stance.
‘So King Richard, to stay in this round, can you tell me in what year was your older brother crowned King of England and how old was he?’
‘Henry was fifteen when he was crowned king in eleven seventy-two.’
‘Oh dear, I’m afraid you only have part of the question right. He was crowned at fifteen, but in eleven seventy. He was crowned again in eleven seventy-two after his marriage to Marguerite, however he was aged seventeen. Sorry your grace, that means you are out of the competition with a well-deserved silver medal.’
Several of Fletch’s supporters were not happy about this and were starting to complain. They quietened as he raised his hand. ‘I thank you for your support my friends. It has been a privilege to have got so far in this contest. I only hope the boy who gets the gold is truly worthy of it.’ Some of the professors seemed a little uncomfortable; he was clearly suggesting his supporters should back one of the candidates. They all knew he meant Archer, but because he didn’t actually mention his name, there was nothing they could do, even if they had wanted to.
Fletch bowed graciously and as he returned to his seat Professor Sophia approached Malduc with a note. They had a whispered conversation, then she left and he turned back with a brief apology, calling Kayleigh up. She answered the first two questions correctly, then after a lengthy pause, remembered the name of the Roman general who defeated her, giving her a total of eighteen points. Patricia and Bethia both answered all of their questions correctly so they went through to the final with nineteen points.
Malduc presented silver medals and certificates to Fletch and Kayleigh. As they left the dais he called the remaining four finalists. ‘So, juniors, we now come to the very last part of our contest. You must use your yellow token to vote for the most worthy girl, and the green token to vote for the most worthy boy. Remember this is not about the character, but the performance of that boy or girl throughout the day.’
He glanced at the four Worthies who were still trying to stay in character. ‘By all means take into account the points they have earned throughout the contest, they will be displayed above the basket with their name on. King Lionheart, can you lead the front row, Queen Boudicca can you lead the second row? The professors will show you what to do.’
The vote was arranged efficiently so no one could be sure how anyone else voted nor how many votes had been cast. While the votes were being counted, Tybalt read one of the poems from his craft entry.
Professor Gail brought on Rhianna’s beautiful painting, showing a rearing stallion, with its shadow cleverly done in white like a chalk horse. The horse was surrounded by a yew forest, Stonehenge and a river flowing alongside a path, raised to represent a ley line.
Malduc called Rhianna up to join Tybalt, presenting them with the awards for the best craft items. ‘I’m sure you’ll all agree Tybalt and Rhianna have great futures ahead of them. I have asked them both to create a work of art for the whole of Aveburgh to enjoy. These will be displayed in the council house. Congratulations you two on your first paid commission.’ He led the applause as they stood at the back of the stage.
‘Now I’d like to present the awards for excellent sporting performance, these go to Beorn and Aife, potential future Olympians.’ Outrage stirred amongst the juniors, several of whom were muttering Finn’s name. Malduc obviously expected the unrest. ‘Before you all complain too loudly, the next awards are for characterisation, I think we’ve uncovered a couple of future thespians – Arthur and Marian.’ The cheer was the biggest yet and they kept up their personas as they received their medals, Finn gallantly leading Chrisya up to receive her award before him.
Sophia handed Malduc another note. He glanced at it, raising his eyebrows in question, to which she nodded an affirmative. She stood back as he returned to the front of the stage. ‘Before the final result, I would like to present the next award voted for by the juniors. This is for the best costume and if you remember I asked you to look for something a bit unusual and innovative. We certainly got that. The winners are Robert the Bruce and Lady Godiva.’
Dervla, fully recovered from her earlier problems, had orchestrated a piece of clever theatre designed to shock and entertain. As she walked forward, Machin “accidentally” stood on the hem of her cloak which slipped off her shoulders to puddle in a heap. Not that anyone had eyes for what the robe was doing. The expressions of the staff revealed varying degrees of horror, none more so than Malduc, who was expecting something quite indecent. With the makings of a great actress, Dervla’s innocent expression was more than worthy of an award. Unknown to anyone, she’d changed into a chaste gown, suitable for Lady Godiva’s position as wife to the Earl of Mercia. Laughter followed the initial collective intake of breath, then people whistled and cheered as she received her medal.
Machin put his contraption through its paces once more, with a lively crowd applauding the realistic, yet considerably larger than normal, spider as it strove to reach the top.
‘Thank you very much. And now without further ado, I’d like to announce that this year’s champion Worthies are ...’
Suddenly, from the back of the stage, came a drum roll and everyone laughed in delight as Doug appeared from the side, building it up to a crescendo.
‘... Robin of Loxley and Aethelflaed. Well done you two.’
Sophia placed the pale green robe around Archer’s shoulders and Malduc placed a crown on his head. Bethia was similarly garbed as the crowd around them cheered and stamped.
Archer’s head filled with conflicting emotions: pride at being chosen; victory over Edlyn; concern for Patricia and over it all a fellowship with so many of the people standing behind him. Two things started to crowd their way to the surface. One: what was Doug doing there?
It could be nothing but bad news. Two: everyone was expecting him to kiss Bethia. That was the worst possible news. Malduc put on his ceremonial robe, picked up the rowan cross and began the prayer of thanksgiving for the May King and Queen. He had a few moments’ thinking time.
21 May King and Queen
He could almost sense the thoughts of the people around him: Finn and almost every other boy on stage would be thinking “Lucky beggar.” All except Edlyn, he was probably thinking how he could get a recount or, failing that, turn it to his advantage.
Fletch would be thinking something like “well go on mate if you have to, but you’d better not enjoy it.”
Patricia might be a little disappointed, having got so far. Like Kayleigh however, she would be gracious in defeat. All the other girls would be a little envious, it was pretty much the biggest honour of their young lives to be crowned Queen of the May. Most of them would probably realise Bethia deserved it. As his eyes travelled over the crowd in front, he caught a glimpse of the expression on Adelisa’s face. She looked totally bored with this childish ritual and obviously couldn’t wait until it was all over and they could get out of there.
An image flashed in Archer’s brain. As her name had been called, the expression on Bethia’s face suggested she was every bit as surprised as he had been to win the vote. No, more than that. She had actually wanted Patricia to win, or at least she had expected her to win. A glance at the scoreboard confirmed they had both scored twenty on the sports round and nineteen on the knowledge round, so in theory they were both equally placed in terms of skills.
He tried to assess their portrayal of their chosen characters objectively. Patricia’s had been more entertaining, but then her Worthy had much more scope for interaction with related characters. Then he looked in Bethia’s eyes, reading her thoughts as though she had said them out loud. “Patricia should have got this, she’s much better than I am. If it wasn’t for Fletch’s help I wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
She wasn’t the girl he had suspected, and she really did have genuine feelings for Fletch. As Malduc said the final words, he saw her expression of self-doubt begin to melt into hope.
‘Ladies and gents, please join me in welcoming your May King and Queen, Archer and Bethia.’ As the applause rang loud in his ears, Archer touched his lips to hers, the first time he had ever experienced such softness.
It was over in an instant and then everyone seemed to be kissing everyone on the stage. Apart from Fletch, who showed no interest in anyone except Chrisya and Dervla who each got a cursory peck on the cheek. He spent all his time making sure the lads who wanted to kiss the May Queen “for luck” were doing no more than the same quick peck. No lips and definitely no more than an instant.
Archer went from never having kissed a girl to kissing half a dozen – maybe more. Then Kayleigh stood in front of him, her eyes sparkling with fun. ‘Well done Archer, a well-deserved victory for you and the Warrior clan.’ He bent down to kiss her cheek but she turned at the last instant and pressed her lips to his, probably a bit harder than she’d intended and their noses knocked together. It wasn’t a problem, however she seemed embarrassed. This, from a girl who didn’t understand the meaning of the word clumsy. Every bone in her body was designed to move in graceful co-ordination. As she breathed an apology, Chrisya tapped her on the shoulder.
‘Come on Kayleigh, put him down, it’s not fair of you to use up all his kisses. Leave some for the rest of us.’ Kayleigh turned scarlet and fled as Chrisya continued. ‘Congratulations, Sir King, I hope we can finish that sword fight later on. Maybe Patricia won’t interrupt us this time.’ She put her hands on his face and drew him towards her in a way which suggested she’d probably done this before. Her lips tasted of strawberries and she clung on for an instant. Then she pushed him away saying, ‘Robin, you’ll have to save that kind of behaviour until after we’re married.’ Her jest was loud enough so everyone around laughed with her.
Dazed by this attention, Archer perceived everything moving at speeds at least five times faster than he was capable of. Forcing his face into something resembling a smile, he tried to draw in a breath, thinking maybe a bit of oxygen would awaken his mind. One other person moved at his snail’s pace. As everything blurred around him, he caught the expression of failure on Patricia’s face an instant before she turned away. He called out to her, but with all the merriment, she obviously didn’t hear and carried on walking.
Archer burst into action as though a thunderbolt from above had energised his limbs. He hurried to catch her as she went to step down from the platform. Catching hold of her arm, he tried to think of something smart to say. In an instant which seemed to last an eternity, she glanced down at her arm; then up into his face. Her expression reflected extreme distaste; although he couldn’t for the life of him think of anything he had done to deserve it. The right words would not surface and those that did tumbled out involuntarily. ‘Don’t you want to kiss the May King for luck?’
Her look seared his fingers on her arm with a frostbite so intense he had no choice except to release her. Patricia’s words deepened the freeze. ‘I think the May King’s lips are still wet with the kisses of his adoring subjects.’
‘Patricia, can I have a word?’ Sophia’s voice came from immediately behind him and Patricia muttered ‘excuse me’ as she moved past. As he stood, cursing his stupid mouth for uttering his even more stupid thoughts in the stupidest way possible, a giant hand slapped him on the back and he pitched forward. The same giant hand grasped his tunic to stop him from falling off the edge. His crown tilted forward and he grabbed it with both hands, trying to restore his scrambled dignity.
‘Well done King Robin, not that you needed the title to have all these pretty young things desperate to give you kisses.’
‘Finn, what are you on about? Patricia, wait.’
‘Let her go mate, there’s something she needs to hear.’
Suddenly he had Archer’s full attention. ‘What do you mean? What do you know?’
‘Now he wants to talk to me. I know everything, me. While you were up there worrying about whether you’ve got silver or gold, I was watching the professors.’
‘And?’
‘In my own sweet time.’ Finn was enjoying this. ‘There’s been quite a lot of running around backstage. A bit of funny business going on with the counting. Someone’s been cheating.’
‘What? How could they?’
‘Archer, you are such an innocent. There are many ways people could cheat, but you need to know the system to do it without being detected.’
‘Are you saying the result was wrong? Will they need to do it again? Did people not really vote for me?’
‘Hold your horses. And keep your voice down. No, no and no. I think. That last one’s tricky to answer because of the negative.’
‘Finn if you don’t start giving me answers instead of riddles, I’m going to knock your block off.’
‘Why certainly my Liege, but first I think you need some refreshment.’ He bowed graciously and took Archer’s arm, guiding him down the steps off the stage, hissing out of the corner of his mouth, ‘For goodness sake, calm yourself down, people are watching.’
‘Stop teasing me and tell me what’s been going on.’
‘Edlyn should never have been in the semi-final, it should have been Tybalt. Apart from that, it’s all good.’
‘Hang on a second, what has this got to do with Patricia?’
‘Oh yes, I forgot about that bit. So you have absolutely no interest in what Edlyn did. Fine, then.’
Archer sighed. He was never going to get anywhere with Finn in this mood, he would simply have to humour him and let him tell the tale his own way. ‘Yes, oh wise and wonderful one, please give me the benefit of your intelligence.’
Finn explained how he watched Malduc put Sophia’s note down on his lectern earlier, so he pushed Chrisya forward to get her award while he glanced at it. There was a code.
E 5 => 3
/>
T 4 => 6
‘What does it mean?’
‘That two of Tybalt’s votes were tallied against Edlyn.’
‘But that’s terrible. Maybe Tybalt should be standing here wearing the crown, not me.’
‘Unlikely. Assuming he’d have beaten Fletch in the knowledge round …’
‘He is pretty smart.’
‘… it’s unlikely he’d have beaten you on the vote.’
‘You can’t say that, he’s very popular.’
‘Thirty-seven to twelve.’
‘What?’
‘You pulled thirty-seven green counters and Edlyn only got twelve.’
‘No. Really? You know this because …’
‘The second note Sophia brought up. I was still standing by the lectern so I peeked.’
He pulled out a copy of the second note:
A37 E12
B25 P24
Archer’s fuddled brain worked out the significance. ‘So that’s why Sophia came up to comfort Patricia, to tell her there was only one vote in it.’
‘Maybe. Probably telling her how they recounted the votes three times just to be sure. Didn’t you see the way Malduc’s eyebrows shot up half a pace when she gave him the note?’
‘You can’t possibly know all this is true. Three recounts? How would you know that?’
‘Because while everyone else listened to Tybalt read his poem, I focussed on what was going on behind the stage. I could hear every time they tipped out the counters in the baskets.’
‘How do you know they weren’t recounting the boys’ votes?’
‘Because a pile of twelve green counters looks almost identical to a pile over three times the size? Work it out.’
Archer thought back to what was going on at the time. ‘No mate. That’s never going to work. I know the warrior training sharpens our hearing skills, but even you are not that good.’
‘I’m not? So you won’t want to know they’re just about to call you for the Garlanding, then?’
