Treacherous Toys

by Joyce

  I opened the door, my legs shaking from the effort it took to stand so still. I supposed I was also nervous about being caught there. Whoever said eavesdroppers never hear good about themselves was right. I looked at the threatening note again and stuffed it into the purse that hung at my waist.

  I walked to the Village Square and sat beside the Good Luck Fountain, listening to the minstrels as they played on the green.

  I wasn’t sure why I’d felt like I knew Chris and Christine so well. We’d just met when Chris was killed. I really didn’t know much about them at all. And what I did know—Chris sleeping around, Christine having an affair with Harry—I didn’t like. How could I be so wrong about two people? I felt stupid and naïve.

  Chase came and sat beside me. “I just came back from helping King Arthur find his missing sword. Phil at the Sword Spotte had hidden it because Arthur refused to do a commercial for Phil, who made the Excalibur sword. I’ve been looking for it all day. Visitors missed all those exciting moments with Arthur pulling the sword from the stone.”

  I sighed, glad he seemed to be over his funk. “That’s great. Really great.”

  He put his arm around me along the back of the bench. “What’s wrong? I take it no one has officially confessed to killing Father Christmas. You didn’t work on it very long.”

  “It’s far worse.” I told him about Christine and Harry. “Detective Almond might be right. It doesn’t look good for Christine.”

  Chase thought about it. “I don’t believe it. If I had that much life insurance on you, I’d push you out of a tall window or drown you in a bathtub—something that looked like an accident. This is so obvious. They had to know there would be a big investigation.”

  Even though I’d thought the same thing, the way he’d phrased it made me even more depressed. “I don’t think most people’s minds work that way. Besides, they say most criminals aren’t very smart. Maybe they were so much in love, they were willing to give up everything so they could be together.”

  “Harry will never leave Livy. He likes to fool around, but the two of them know what they’re doing. Harry knows he’d have to give up his position if he left Livy. If Christine thinks he loves her enough to give up his life, she’s got another thought coming.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” I protested. “How am I supposed to get a confession from a killer if I don’t know who the killer is?”

  “I’d say you need to clear your mind for a while,” he suggested. “I could use your help with vegetable justice. What say you?”

  “I’d say lead me hither, good sir. I shall do my best to aid you.”

  It seemed Adventure Land was worried about losing customers while Father Christmas took a break for lunch. That’s why they’d ordered the parade of animals, put an extra dozen fairies out on the cobblestones, and asked Chase to do vegetable justice a few extra times each day.

  The stocks by the Dungeon were ready, along with baskets of overripe tomatoes, old lettuce, and some squishy peppers. Nothing hard enough to hurt anyone—but just solid enough to put on a good show.

  Sometimes, visitors asked that vegetable justice be administered to one or more of the people who came with them to the Village. When that didn’t happen, Chase recruited Village residents to stage a performance of a grievance.

  That was the case when I came down from the Dungeon in my old trousers and boy’s shirt. I was the bailiff’s errand boy who fetched and carried for him. I would help out with vegetable justice by putting the offender into the stocks and riling up the crowd so that (hopefully) everyone had a good time.

  Because no visitor had asked for vegetable justice, Chase had recruited a few knights in training, a few of the Merry Men from Sherwood, and a few varlets and madmen who were wandering around.

  Chase came out in his black robe and white wig. A pirate from the Queen’s Revenge was brought forward in plastic chains. He’d been accused of stealing and causing mayhem in the Village. “How do you plead?” Chase asked the new pirate, Bucky. I didn’t recognize him, so he had to be new.

  “I plead innocent, though I don’t give a rat’s ass for your justice.” He made the mistake of spitting on the ground. That led to a round of spitting from everyone else involved. Residents led the way, and visitors, thinking it was something interesting and fun, followed. I don’t know why, but spitting had evolved into a popular sport at these events.

  “Great,” I whispered to Chase. “We could be here all day at this rate.”

  But as usual, a large crowd of visitors began to join the group to find out what was going on. They were soon booing the pirate and yelling “Huzzah!” when the knights in training stated their case against the pirate.

  By the time Chase had passed sentence for the crime—vegetable justice to be administered at once—there were at least a hundred visitors who were ready to take up old vegetables to throw at the pirate.

  I did my impression of a young helper and led the pirate to the stocks. There, his chains were removed and his neck and arms were locked into place. “Comfortable?” I asked him as the crowd began to fill their hands with vegetables.

  “I guess. No one ever said anything about this. Should I expect to do this every day?”

  “Probably not. Most of the time, the visitors want to be the ones in the stock.”

  “Really? Why would anyone want to do this?”

  “Who knows? Just close your eyes tight and don’t open your mouth. It’ll be over quickly.”

  With vegetables in hand, everyone proceeded to throw them. Lucky for the pirate that they were soft and most of the throws missed him. He was still covered in tomato juice when it was over, but everyone had a good time. Several of the visitors suddenly remembered that they had disagreements with someone they were there with that day. Chase set up three more vegetable justice events with them.

  “What ho, my good servant!” He hammed it up for the crowds. “Mind your manners or you’ll be next in the stocks.”

  The visitors ate it up like bread bowls. The residents faded back to their jobs since they weren’t needed anymore. Everything was right on the cobblestones.

  I spent most of the afternoon helping Chase before he had to abandon his part of the event. He was called away when a few girls got carried away by the excitement of the Village and took off their clothes to climb in the Good Luck Fountain.

  “Maybe I should come with you on that,” I offered, thinking the situation called for a woman’s point of view. And I could protect Chase from any rowdy naked females.

  “I’m just going to supervise,” he said. “Two security guards are already there. I think we’ll be fine. You could just walk around or go upstairs and get on the computer.”

  Since I was already in Renaissance garb, I decided to use my appearance to see if I could find out what had really happened when the knight came at me and Christine yesterday.

  I looked like a squire, so I might as well hang around the jousting area and see what was going on. Maybe I’d pick up on something.

  The Field of Honor was busy with knights practicing for the jousting event, which would take place an hour later. The knights were divided into groups based on experience. The queen’s or king’s champions were always set apart and practiced alone. The knights on the field were new or had never made it to that exalted status.

  Usually one or two black knights were the terror of the jousting field. These knights were experienced and usually enjoyed the boos they received from the crowd.

  I watched the horses go back and forth on the sawdust, working through the routines that would acclimate them to the sight of another horse and rider bearing down on them with a lance or sword. None of the jousts were real, just good theater. But injuries still occurred from time to time, mostly because of inadequate training.

  “You there!” a young, blond knight shouted at me. “I need someone to fetch my lance. And be quick about it.”

  Well, I’d wanted to be at the field incognito. My plan seeme
d to be working. I found the staging area where the blond knight kept his effects and picked up his lance. I walked across the field, glad I’d changed my shoes for boots, and looked up in time to see a large horse and rider coming at me.

  Maybe I’d already located the knight who’d tried to skewer Christine and me.

  Thirteen

  I dropped the lance and jumped the nearby fence to get away from the rider. Lucky for me, the blond knight took his position seriously. He rode up and hailed the helmeted knight who’d been charging toward me.

  “Get your own squire. This one is mine!” he yelled at the attacking knight with all of the position and pomp of a more experienced rider.

  I stood up, a little breathless. The knight pushed back his helmet. I’d never seen him before, but given all the new hires, that wasn’t surprising.

  “Sorry,” he said, looking at me. “I guess the horse just got away from me. Are you hurt?”

  “Of course he’s not hurt,” the blond knight told him. “Squires and lackeys don’t get hurt. They get your lance if they know what’s good for them.”

  I knew that was my cue to scramble. I jumped back over the fence and picked up the lance. I’d done my time at the jousts. I knew what was expected. “Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

  “Damn right it won’t or you’ll bloody be out on the cobblestones.” The blond knight accepted the lance from me, then rode toward the center of the field.

  The new knight climbed down from his horse and removed his helmet and gloves. He looked about sixteen, though I knew the Village never hired knights that young.

  “Really, I hope you’re okay. I like this job, but I’m not very good at it yet.”

  “That’s okay. You’ll get better. I guess you just started.” I reached my hand out to him. “I’m Jessie.”

  “I’m Dennis Greene.” He shook my hand. “You seem to have experience at this.”

  “Yeah. I’ve worked the joust several times. Not so much anymore. I do some apprenticeships with craftsmen.”

  “That sounds better than being out here in the smelly sawdust.” He smiled and he looked like a nice person despite the grime. His blue eyes seemed friendly and open, not a bit like what I’d expected of the rider who’d rode toward Christine and me yesterday. Perhaps it was true that the incident had been an accident. Or maybe he wasn’t the person who’d charged at us.

  “It is sometimes. But you’ll get the hang of it if you stick around.”

  He looked off in the distance at the Village behind me. “I don’t know about that yet. I’m just checking it out right now. I guess I’ll see how it works out. Maybe you could help me.”

  I wanted to know more about him, so I agreed to help. “We could meet up later and I could give you some pointers. It’s not that hard once you know the basics.”

  “That would be great. Maybe around six after the Main Gate closes?”

  “Great! See you later.”

  The blond knight was ready for his sword. He rode toward me and shouted, “I need my sword, squire. Stop dawdling and get it for me at once.”

  I made a face at him. “Get it yourself. I quit.”

  “You’ll never work the joust again. By this, I do swear.”

  “Let’s hope not,” I muttered as I climbed the fence and got out of the Field of Honor. I noticed Jolly, Christine’s oldest son, watching from the sidelines. He looked so wistful and sad that I had to go and say something to him. He might be the oldest, but that didn’t make his father’s death any easier for him.

  “Would you like to give it a try?” I nodded toward the field and the knights still practicing. “It’s not that hard.”

  “I won’t be here long enough to do anything,” he told me. “That’s the way we live.”

  “Things may change now.”

  “You mean because my dad is dead?” He stared at me with a lot of built-up anger in his young face. “I don’t see that happening. My mom will probably just hook up with some other guy who moves around. All I need is another year and I’ll be eighteen. Then nobody can tell me what to do.”

  He pushed away from the fence and stomped back toward the main part of the Village. He was seventeen—of course he was angry. Even if his father had still been alive, he’d be angry. I wondered if Christine had given him that now-that-your-father-is-dead speech. I remembered my grandmother telling Tony that he was the man of the house after our parents died. It was a lot to take in at one time.

  I walked around the Village saying hi to a few friends. Mrs. Potts gave me some honey cookies and a cup of tea at the Honey and Herb Shoppe. While I ate, she brought me up to speed on all the latest gossip. Mrs. Potts is a portly lady who always wears a blue dress with a white apron and a white mob cap. You can’t let her friendly exterior fool you. She’s one of the few people in the Village that Chase trusts with a two-way radio. That’s why she knows all the good stuff.

  “I think King Harold must be looking for a way out of this baby situation,” she told me. “He took a bad tumble down the stone stairs in the castle a few minutes ago. Not looking where he’s going, I suppose. He’s got a lot on his mind. He wasn’t hurt badly and swears someone pushed him.”

  Thinking about Livy’s moods, I could understand that. “What do you know about the new Father Christmas, Edgar Gaskin? He seems to have some pull with Livy and Harry.”

  “I can’t say that I know anything about him—except that he’s already famous for his foul mood. The staff at the castle will walk around him rather than confront him.”

  “It seems odd, doesn’t it, that Harry and Livy hired him even before the first Father Christmas was dead?” I wanted to see if she knew anything about that situation.

  “I agree. It seems to me that he must have something over them. Esmeralda says that he gets whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. If she wasn’t so far pregnant, I’d say he was Livy’s new lover.”

  Mrs. Potts didn’t really know much more than I did. I took some cookies for the road and set out on the cobblestones again.

  The tableau of the Sheriff of Nottingham capturing Robin Hood was going on a few doors down. All the Merry Men with their little green hats were on hand to help Robin free himself before they all took a bow and disappeared back into the forest. The crowds loved it.

  Until the coming of the Knights Templar with their dashing black leather armor and fantastic, well-trained horses, Robin and his men were the most popular part of the Village. They got away with stealing trinkets—and toaster ovens—for years because of it. Chase had told me Village security had finally started cracking down on them.

  Lucky for Robin Hood, the Templars, like the mermaids, were only a summer attraction. The forest bandits were enjoying their popularity again.

  I knew the Templars would have their heyday, too. Then there would be someone else to take their place. It was the way it worked here. Keep it fresh. Keep it moving.

  I saw Christine with all of the children except for Jolly in the Village Square watching an archery tournament. I wanted to talk to her, not necessarily confront her, about her relationship with Harry. Maybe this would be a good time.

  I looked around for Edgar, but there was no sign of him. That was good for me, too. I didn’t plan on apologizing to him. He was rude and threatening, especially for someone only visiting the Village. Even if he had slept with Livy and she didn’t want Harry to find out, that didn’t give him total power over the rest of us.

  “It looks like the coast is clear,” I said when I reached her.

  “Jessie! I’m glad to see you. I’m sorry about the thing with Edgar. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings. I just can’t afford to lose this job. I need time to figure out what I should do next.”

  I leaned my head close to hers. “Don’t depend on Harry to save you.”

  She got all flustered and her face turned red. “I don’t know what you mean. Why would I depend on King Harold for anything?”

  “I know.”

  Christine
smiled. “I can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”

  “I was in the workshop today when you met him there. You should look around more carefully.”

  I probably shouldn’t have said it. I was just surprised to learn that she was as unfaithful as her husband. It kind of blurted right out of me.

  “Well, I guess you know then. I’d appreciate you keeping it to yourself.” Her tone was curt and a little angry. “Nothing good comes from spying on people.”

  “I know. I didn’t mean to be there. I certainly didn’t want to know about you and Harry.” I listened to the oohs and aahs from the crowd around us as the archer shot his arrow through a small pumpkin, splitting it perfectly in half. The archer’s lovely assistant looked happy when it was over, too.

  “What do you plan to do? Harry warned me about you. I guess you heard that, too.”

  “Listen, Christine, everybody sleeps with everybody else around here. Harry wasn’t even sure Livy’s baby was his, as pathetic as that sounds. I don’t care if you two are hooking up. But Harry has done this over and over. He’s not going to leave Livy for you. He’s not going to help you raise your kids. I just want you to know that and not get your hopes up.”

  Her pretty blue eyes were wet with tears. “I feel like such a fool about this, Jessie. A woman my age should know better.” She glanced at her children, but they were still watching the archery. “But Chris was always gone, and most of the time I think it was with some other woman. I was lonely and heartsick over our relationship. Then I met Harry at the summer Costume Characters Convention. He was representing the Village. Chris was busy, so I was standing in for the Santa Fund. We hit it off right away, and my life was so much better—is so much better. I don’t want to think that I haven’t meant that much to him.”

  I could understand her feelings, and I saw the emotion in her face. The man she’d loved had played her false through most of her life. He’d dangled his conquests in her face. This affair with Harry was her chance at happiness. Even though he was someone else’s husband.