by Liam Perrin
"Yes, Thomas. Quit worrying. Oh look, here she comes."
Thomas panicked. Philip slapped him on the back and faded into the shadows. Thomas caught his breath and stepped into the light cast through a window of the Fine Pickle. Marie spotted him and waved.
Thomas gave what he hoped was an obviously theatrical bow and was rewarded with a laugh and a curtsey of equal caliber. He offered his arm, and she took it.
"You look much better when you're not all covered in flour and egg," she said.
"That's funny," he said, "I was just thinking I rather preferred you as a pancake."
Marie affected offense and punched him lightly on the shoulder, but she held onto his arm, her eyes sparkling with something that wasn't just the reflected light of the Pickle.
"C'mon," said Thomas when he'd managed to pull himself out of her eyes, "I hear this place has great cheesecake."
§
He'd just begun to hope that the topic wouldn't come up. They were sitting in a warm booth in a quiet corner, sharing a slice of White Chocolate Heaven. A single candle flickered gently on the table. The walls of the Fine Pickle were decorated with tapestries of knights in various predicaments. The one above their table depicted a knight in pitched battle with apparently no one. The caption read, Sir Balin Defeats The Invisible Knight.
"I thought you showed mummum," Marie said, chewing. They had both agreed the cheesecake was too good for manners.
"Muht?" asked Thomas.
She held her fork hand to her mouth and indicated it would be a minute. Swallowing, she said, "Gumption. And a certain big-picture awareness." She took another bite.
Thomas decided the thing that was sparkling in her eyes was mischievousness.
"Really?" Thomas asked and frowned doubtfully. "Tell me, was the impressive part where I dropped my bucket of fireballs to catch you and smashed them all, or was it the part where I ran around like a mad rooster trying to keep the egg on my head intact?"
"Both!" she said. She paused to dislodge stuck bits of chocolate from her molars with her tongue. To Thomas, even this was mesmerizing. He caught himself staring, and jerked his focus back to the cheesecake.
"But you didn't give up," she continued, "it kept your team in the game long enough for them to whittle each other down. Everyone thought when it was just you and Bane left that you were a goner. What you did was really clever."
In the face of these unexpected compliments, the room was quickly growing uncomfortably warm for Thomas.
"Well, that was more about being stubborn than clever. I've had run-ins with that guy before, and I'll be sacked if I was going to let him beat me..." He almost said "again", but stopped himself in the nick of time.
Marie laughed, remembering. "No one knew what Arthur was going to do. The look on Bane when you took the egg off your head and smashed him in the face with it... Priceless." She shook her head and sighed.
"You know him?"
"Know him? Ha." She rolled her eyes. "He's always coming around the palace acting like he's God's gift to lasses." She paused then added, "You made a lot of friends today Thomas."
They just looked at each other for a moment. Thomas decided the sparkle in her eye might not be mischievousness, or at least, not just mischievousness.
"Well, I'll grant you the gumption, but I don't see how it helps the big picture. Arthur ruled it a draw, and now we have to decide the contest tomorrow. We're right back where we started."
Marie rolled her eyes. "Would you forget about your silly contest for a minute?"
The first thought that popped into Thomas's head was that she had brought it up. He wisely left the thought unarticulated.
She rolled her eyes again. "The big picture," is all she said.
His mind raced. She was watching him carefully. He had the overwhelming feeling that it was very important he figure this out on his own. What could be bigger than the tournament?
She split the last small bit of cheesecake in two and took one piece, leaving him the last. Thomas marveled. Watching someone eat had never been so enthralling. He gave himself a mental smack in the head.
"Oh, that big picture," he said. "Well, I'd trade a bucket of fireballs for you any day."
She smiled. "That's all a girl really wants."
"That'll be two pence, Sir."
It was the serving girl.
Thomas stared at her for a moment. He was still caught up in the joy of having passed the unexpected test.
The girl raised an eyebrow.
"Oh!" said Thomas and fumbled around in his pocket.
He pulled out a penny and stared at it. "I could've sworn I had two." The thought of not being able to pay the bill made Thomas's face grow hot and his throat start to close.
The girl tapped her foot.
Thomas searched his other pocket and found a slip of parchment.
He pulled it out and read the over-sized calligraphy. It was the coupon from their welcome packet. Thomas's heart started beating again.
"Here you go, Miss."
"Yer a knight?" said the girl.
"Of course he's a knight," said Marie.
The girl shrugged, picked up their dishes and walked away.
"Let's get out of here," said Thomas.
"Let's," said Marie.
They made their way back to the palace grounds talking about all sorts of things: where they grew up, their families, their favorite animals, the things they liked to do, the things they didn't like to do. Thomas didn't want the night to end, but end it did.
He said good night at the steps to the palace proper. Marie curtsied, and Thomas bowed. After the guard closed the doors behind her, Thomas simply stood staring at them.
After a while, the guard cleared his throat and said, "You're gonna have to move along, mate."
Thomas felt like he floated back to his barracks. He fell asleep certain that all was right with the world and everything would surely work itself out.
§
"We're... jousting?" Thomas's brain let go of his jaw.
"Looks like it." Even Philip looked rattled.
The field had been converted from the previous day's mock dragon-slaying, castle-storming, princess-saving extravaganza to a very official looking jousting field. Colored banners flapped with snaps and swooshes. A long fence ran down the middle of the field paralleling the bleachers and separating the tracks down which opposing jousters were apparently meant to careen. At either end, racks held dozens of polished lances pointing skyward.
Except for their impending deaths, the day seemed to be shaping up marvelously. Tall green grass waved in happy breezes on distant hills. Great forests stood beyond as if to say, "There's no rush, we'll be here." The sun climbed gracefully through a robin egg blue sky dotted with the kinds of clouds that make you think there's a reason for everything.
It was the kind of day you decide to go apologize to someone for something, and without hesitation, they forgive you and admit they weren't entirely guiltless themselves.
"Um..." said Thomas.
"You can say that again," said Philip.
Thomas's mind struggled to reconcile the beauty on the surface of the day with the horror just beneath it.
The stands were filling up. Everyone looked radiant. The excitement was contagious, and it swam around Thomas mixing with something cold and hard in his stomach that was undoubtedly pure, distilled dread. The juxtaposition made everything seem surreal. Colors were more colorful. Breezes were more breeze-like. He was unusually aware of the ground, as if it and his feet were just casual acquaintances who were meeting again unexpectedly and whose future relationship was uncertain. He had an overwhelming urge to pick up a handful of dirt and feel it. He felt like he could catch a fly by its wing with his forefinger and thumb. He felt like he was going to throw up.
Thomas looked at Philip to see if there was any sign that he was experiencing the same. Philip was staring at a fly he'd caught by its wing with his forefinger and thumb. He looked green.
<
br /> §
Arthur lifted his megaphone.
"Welcome again, Gents and Gentry, Ladies and Laudables. As you well know, yesterday's contest ended undecided. No team managed to rescue the fair maiden..."
Marie stood and curtseyed. The crowd applauded sadly.
"...and the day ended in a draw between Marrok's team and Gawain's when the evil wizard, Thomas the Hesitant..."
The crowd gave a short, but enthusiastic cheer. Thomas, surprised, gave a surprised little wave.
"...destroyed himself and his army to bring down Gawain's last man, Bane the Appropriately Named."
Thomas and Philip shot looks at each other.
"No way," said Philip, and they laughed.
The crowd applauded sympathetically.
Bane bowed deeply, then looked at Thomas and drew his finger across his throat. Thomas, aware now of the crowd's attention, blew Bane a kiss. Laughter rolled from various spots in the audience, and Bane turned away steaming.
Philip said, "You really need to learn how to play nice with the other kids."
"Evil wizards," Thomas replied, "aren't fancied for their neighborly dispositions."
"We had an evil wizard for a neighbor once." Philip nodded in response to Thomas's disbelief. "Pyralis the Prestidigitatious. He was rather pleasant on a personal level. He'd bring over the best biscuits. There was the occasional slightly-too-maniacal cackle, but overall he was really rather endearing. My mum used to say, 'Now there's a man that knows what he's about.' That always made Dad a bit testy. 'Knows what he's about?' he'd say. 'Everyone knows what he's about! Wants to rule the world or turn us all to slugs. Or both! Great biscuits though. What d'ya think he puts in 'em Maud?' Mum would say, 'I'll tell ya whut he puts in 'em Phil–" Philip put one hand on his hip and punctuated each syllable by poking at Thomas: "Am – bi – tion.'"
"Today," megaphoned Arthur, "nothing will be undecided!" The crowd failed to respond. He fumbled with his collar. "That is to say, everything that’s been decided will stay that way. Whereas, things that haven't been decided... won't!"
Merlin whispered something.
Arthur continued, "Let's joust!"
The crowd, having found a footing, used it to stomp their approval.
§
Leagues away, the healer woke up in his small, homey shack by the stream. He stood and stretched and tried to recall what he'd been up to the day before and if there was anything worth following up on today. He scratched. He rearranged. He straightened his beard and felt around his teeth with his tongue. He'd made a career change years ago, and since then he'd slept the kind of sleep that most people don't even dream of. The kind that goes uninterrupted. The kind that clears and refreshes the mind. The kind that you couldn't disturb if you fired a canon over his bed.
He grabbed a biscuit from a bowl on the table and munched, staring at the open door of his shack while he chewed. His eyes dropped to a wet footprint on the threshold while his jaw worked contentedly. His gaze followed a line of footprints to its origin near a shelf while he swallowed and took another bite. Chewing lazily, he stared at a mess of shattered glass beneath the shelf.
He stopped.
A tiny, crude ship made, apparently, from leaves and sticks was lying on its side amidst the shards of glass and haphazard puddles of water.
He resumed chewing, a bit faster this time.
Later that morning, he set off with his walking staff and a pack full of sundries to find Gorgella. He felt somewhat responsible. And she wasn't the only thing missing.
§
The jousters who live the longest, joust the least. In a friendly contest, where the two combatants know each other and genuinely like each other, there's an unspoken agreement to charge short of deadly speeds. There's no guarantee, of course, and if you didn't know who your enemies were before the tournament, you learn about halfway down the runway when you notice the guy coming at you is giving it a bit more gusto than is sociable.
For these reasons and more, it's an advantage to the participants in a tournament to know with whom they'll be competing. For the same reasons, it's to the tournament organizer's benefit to keep this information confidential, even to the extent of encouraging select knights to compete incognito. Take a favored and popular knight, dress him up with a black tabard, a helmet that hides his face, a shield with an unfamiliar crest and voila. Where before you had a contest that no one believed would be an honest go, now you've got something to talk about.
Occasionally, the most-skilled knights would disguise themselves just for the fun of it.
And finally, there was the rare but not unheard of event where a mysterious knight from unknown lands and of questionable allegiances would show up who really, in fact, was a mysterious knight from unknown lands and questionable allegiances.
That is why, when the black knight appeared, everyone looked around to see if anyone they knew was missing.
§
"Where's Arthur?"
"Over there," Philip pointed, "in the popcorn line."
Thomas scanned the field. "Gawain?"
"Talking to the cheerleaders."
They were both quiet for a moment.
"Where's Bane?" asked Philip.
"I saw him rubbing down his horse by the stables." Thomas shook his head. "Anyway, Bane doesn't have to pretend to be bad news."
Philip conceded the point.
"I don't see anyone missing," he said.
"Nor do I," said Thomas, "nor do I."
§
The black knight was unstoppable. In a long succession of imploded shields and cracked lances he unhorsed everyone who rode against him. Gawain was first, landing squarely on his rear behind his surprised steed. When they carried him from the field clearly rattled, he was heard to say, "I canna feel me rrrump. I didna leave it behind did I? That wouldna do at all. Who was tha' anyway?"
Kay and Bedivere fared somewhat worse. They both shattered their lances and left the field unconscious. At first, the field rallied against the knight, seeking to avenge their fallen comrades. Pellinore, Agravain, Owain, and Marrok all went down. Lamorak landed a square blow and split the black knight's shield, but failed to unhorse him. The knight was given a new shield and, in a second run, launched Lamorak so high off his saddle that he had time to wonder if he'd been knocked clean out of his body and was just going to keep ascending. Gravity eventually re-asserted itself and brought him home with vigor.
"Find it funny do you Bane?"
Bane was smirking, and Philip was livid.
"Why don't you give it a go then, eh? I'd like to see you land on your rear like all the others."
Bane didn't seem at all perturbed. "I've got a better idea," he said as cold as ice. "Why doesn't Thomas give it a run? And if he wins..."
He looked square at Thomas.
"If he wins, I'll tell my father to pardon his brother."
Thomas felt all the blood drain away from his face.
The black knight had ridden up and was standing alone, facing the king's pavilion.
"What's he talking about, Thomas?" asked Philip
Arthur addressed the knight, "It would appear there are none left to challenge your supremacy on the field today stranger-knight. You have fought magnificently. Better than any that have ever competed on this field. Unmask yourself and claim your victory!"
The crowd cheered expectantly.
Philip looked from Thomas to Bane to the black knight and back again.
"Thomas," hissed Philip, "what's he talking about?!"
"Wait!" shouted Thomas.
The crowd went silent.
"I challenge him," Thomas said and stepped forward.
CHAPTER XII
The Gauntlet of Smashing Success
"I really don't think this is a good idea," said Philip.
"Nonsense, I'll be fine," replied Thomas though he didn't believe it himself.
"You're insane," said Philip as he suited Thomas up.
"I have to do this," said
Thomas.
"It doesn't change the fact that you're insane."
Thomas had explained, briefly, the situation. As unlikely as it was that Thomas would best the black knight when all others had failed, he had to try to make this work.
"There's got to be a better way," said Philip. "This guy's going to kill you. Have you ever jousted before?"
Thomas just looked at him.
"You haven't, have you? You could appeal to Arthur! You could–"
He was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a very old, very out of breath man.
"Oh, good. I made it," he said. "Where's the glove, do you have it?"
"Healer?" said Thomas.
"Pyralis!" said Philip.
"Riders ready!" shouted the joustmaster.
"Oh dear," said the old man.
§
"Well," said Pyralis, "for one thing, if I were still evil I wouldn't be here trying to stop it, would I?"
"I don't know," said Philip. "That's the sort of thing an evil wizard might say in order to get us to let our guards down. I'm just pointing this out Pyralis. I don't mean anything by it of course. Boy, it's good to see you. Still baking?"
Pyralis visibly relaxed.
"Oh yes," he said. "I should have brought something. In fact, just yesterday..." but that brought him back round to the problem at hand and he visibly tensed again. He gave himself a little shake.
"Just yesterday," he continued, "I was telling Gorgella about some of my favorite pieces that I'd kept from the old days, you know, for sentimental reasons."
He gave the sort of sheepish, worried, and guilty grin that people give when they've done something foolish that hasn't been worked all the way out yet.
"Wait, what?" Thomas interjected, "You were talking to Gorgella? Is she... Is she..."
"Aye," Pyralis nodded. "She's grown."
Joy slid down Thomas's face through his eyes and landed on his chin with a wide smile.
"Well, that's..." Thomas shook his head. "That's fantastic. How did you do it? I mean, when I left I thought she was, you know..." Thomas didn't want to admit to Pyralis or himself that he hadn't really held much hope for her in Pyralis's care.
Pyralis fixed Thomas with a look that was not very like an evil wizard at all and said, "You did it Thomas. You tried to help her, and when you did so, you made her think she might be worth helping. Now I think she wants to return the favor."
