Chapter 9

 

 

Melissa pushed aside her sketches and glared at William. “This isn’t supposed to be why you asked me here, Will. I thought we were planning the wedding.”

William squirmed in his chair at the dining hall table, hoping Melissa hadn’t guessed that he’d forgotten their earlier plans. “We still can, but I want you to see the games first. And to be a judge.”

“Why can’t you be a judge?” she asked.

“The villagers can’t see me taking sides,” he said.

“Oh, but it’s okay if I take sides? Remember, I’ll be living here too.”

“It’s different,” he insisted. “You don’t live here yet, and they have no reason to think you have favorites.”

Melissa raised her hands in defeat. “Fine, I’ll be a judge. But I better not be the only one. If there’s a riot when the wrong team loses, I want somebody to share the blame.”

William laughed and kissed her forehead. “Miss Plevins and Agatha agreed to be the other judges. I can’t think of three finer people to blame for the breakdown of law and order.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, pretending outrage. “Maybe I’ll pick a favorite just to watch you handle a riot.”

William stood and handed Melissa her coat. “Let’s go. Santiago and Kofi are picking their teams right now, and I want to be there before they finish.”

“Are you bringing your dog?” she asked as she slipped into her coat.

William sighed. “He’s a dragon, Melissa.”

She scratched behind the dragon’s ear. “He acts just like a dog. A giant, green, scaly dog. Don’t you Clyde? See, he’s even wagging his tail.”

The team selection was well under way when they arrived, Kofi and Santiago taking turns selecting from the crowd at the back of the hall. Each chosen person moved to the seats behind their captain, laughing and joking with their teammates. Ruskin rose to let William take the main seat on the dais, but William shook his head and signaled for Ruskin to remain. Miss Plevins sat beside Ruskin, writing each name as the captain called it. Jack and Agatha handed ribbons to those who were selected, green for Kofi’s team, red for Santiago’s.

“Pretty slick operation,” said Melissa with a smirk. “You don’t have to do a thing.”

He held a chair for her, then sat beside her. “I’m told that’s how lords operate.”

“Obviously, that will change when I move here.”

“I suppose I’d better enjoy it now,” he said with a wink.

The crowd of unselected people thinned, the remaining people mostly girls and older folks. Miss Plevins called out to the two team captains. “Remember, Lord William hasn’t announced what the events will be. Don’t select your teams based on muscle only. You’ll need wit as well.”

“Have you even decided what the events are yet?” asked Melissa.

William shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll come up with something.”

She swatted his arm. “Don’t be cagey. Tell me what the events are.”

“I can’t. You’re a judge. And besides, you told me you were going to pick a favorite, and I can’t have you helping them behind my back.”

“Don’t be silly—I’ll do that right in front of you. Besides, I’ve already picked my favorite.” She nodded toward a girl of about ten years who was clearly frustrated at not being selected yet. Each time Kofi or Santiago stood to choose, she would wave her arms to get noticed. She was ignored every time, her face switching from hopeful optimism to annoyed pout as the captains chose someone else yet again. William recognized her, although he had never seen her loitering among the other children. Though her clothes appeared as worn as anyone’s, hers were at least clean, and her hair less unkempt than her peers’. Inevitably, she was the last one chosen, stomping to her seat behind Kofi with a miffed expression.

Ruskin signaled to William that the selection process was complete. William stepped onto the dais and addressed the crowd. “Team Santiago, Team Kofi, are you ready? Today’s events will determine the winner and loser of the trial. The loser must do the winner’s bidding for an entire day, from sunup to sundown—within reason, of course. The judges of each event will be my former teacher Miss Peggy Plevins, Miss Agatha Litton, and Miss Melissa Reid…who will soon be Lady Melissa of Whitehall Manor.” The room erupted in applause at the last announcement, and shouts of congratulations offered.

“The first event is Mr. Ruskin’s idea,” continued William. “As we have never held a mustering drill, we will use this opportunity to have our first. Each team will be spread out at places marked by flags of each team’s color, one flag per person. There are two bells, one at the manor, the other at the village square. Only one of these bells will ring. When it does, each team will race to the bell, and the first team with all its members present will win the event. Does everyone understand? Mr. Ruskin and Mr. Doran will inspect the teams to make sure all flags are occupied before the bell is rung. The judges and I will remain here until Mr. Domnall rings one of the two bells.”

The two teams left with Jack and Ruskin to find their starting places, leaving William and the three women alone. “How long must we wait here?” asked Agatha, who had yet to crack a smile during the proceedings.

William leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Once Jack and Ruskin get the teams in place, we can head back to the manor.”

“You’ve already decided which bell will be rung?” asked Miss Plevins.

“Well…we don’t actually have two bells,” admitted William. “It turns out they’re more expensive than we thought.”

“Do the villagers know their lord is a big fat liar?” asked Melissa.

“I’m sure it’ll come out in time,” said William. “Ah, here come Jack and Ruskin now.”

Ruskin lifted his hand in greeting. “The teams are ready, sir.”

“Tell me again what this is good for, Will?” asked Jack as they hurried back to the manor.

William gave him a sidelong glance. “Come on, Jack. You know as well as I do what mustering is for.”

“There hasn’t been an attack on a barony or village since…well, since Rebel Falls.”

“And before that, the one my father died defending,” said William with a hurt look. “But even if there’s never another attack, we still might have to fight a fire one day. We need to do this.”

“Fine,” said Jack. “Ruskin and I will head back to the starting places to stop cheaters. We wouldn’t want a fire to be extinguished against the rules, would we?”

William did his best not to let Jack’s complaints sour his mood and maintained a pleasant chatter with Melissa and Miss Plevins, while Agatha plodded on silently beside them. Clyde followed in a zigzag path, inspecting and tasting various plants, occasionally testing his wings with mixed and sometimes humorous results. As they neared the manor, William waved at Oz, who stood near a large brass bell hanging from a solid wooden frame several yards from the front steps. “Ring the bell Oz!”

Oz did as instructed, yanking the rope for a full minute until William stopped him. The three judges lined up to count the team members who would arrive shortly to muster in their team zones, marked by either red or green bunting.

Several minutes passed before any contestants came into view. The first runner was Melissa’s not-so-secret favorite, the young girl who had been picked last. Behind her came several other children, followed by the teens and young adults. William wasn’t near enough to keep count, but the teams appeared evenly matched so far.

Kofi appeared, along with a few other adults, and his team surged ahead. “How many left?” he asked Melissa during a lull.

Melissa checked her list. “Two for Kofi, and nine for Santiago. I would have expected Santiago by now; Kofi’s older and heavier.”

“I don’t like Santiago’s chances,” said William. “Didn’t he pick two or three old folks for his team?”

Miss Plevins cleared her throat pointedly. “Don’t count out us old folks, William. We may surprise you.”

“They’ll have to surprise me soon,” he answered. “Here come two more with green ribbons. Not too quickly though; more of a walk than a run.”

“Ah, but here comes Santiago…and the rest of his team,” said Miss Plevins. William peered past the two stragglers from Kofi’s team. Behind them, and gaining quickly, came three pairs of able-bodied men, each pair carrying an elderly teammate between them. Thus burdened, they could hardly run at top speed, but they easily passed Kofi’s teammates and crossed the finish line several paces ahead.

After a quick huddle, William announced his verdict. “The judges are all in agreement—Team Santiago wins the first event!” Santiago’s team began cheering, while William detected sounds of disappointment and even bickering from the opposing side. He motioned for silence. “I know you’re all tired from the race, and I thank you all for doing your best. One day, this bell may be rung for a more serious purpose. If that day ever comes, I hope you’ll show the same resolve as you did today, because it may mean a fire to douse, or bandits to fight off.”

Both teams applauded—one louder than the other—and William waited a moment before raising his hands for silence. “I know you’re all tuckered out from the race, but the next event will begin shortly. When I look around this barony, I don’t see a single statue of King Duncan. Well, we don’t have time to build a statue, but I’m sure you fine people could assemble a straw man in short order. Each team will create a likeness of Duncan on his throne using only things you find lying around or unused in your own homes. That means no chopping down trees or breaking fences. The three judges will remove themselves from the area so they don’t know which Duncan belongs to which team. Mr. Doran and Mr. Ruskin will show each team where to build their Straw Duncan. You have three hours. Go!”

The teams began huddling as soon as William gave the signal to start, several members immediately running to look for things to use on their team’s effigy.

Melissa approached him with a coy look and slid her arms around his waist. “We have three hours to kill. What should we do now? Something to do with the wedding, perhaps?”

“I’m famished. Let’s go in for lunch,” answered William. “Ruskin can watch the teams. If anything gets out of hand he can call for me.” As they walked to the manor, William detected a note of disappointment in Melissa’s expression.

Mrs. Gracey served lunch, ecstatic at the opportunity to cook for more than just William and Jack. She made a show of it, setting out dishes and cutlery William didn’t even know he owned. Oz helped serve the meal, though he was still wary of Miss Plevins. “This is magnificent, William,” said Miss Plevins between courses. “I love nothing more than seeing a student of mine succeed. You’ve made an old teacher proud.”

William glanced over his soup at her. “Not so old you couldn’t teach somewhere else, I hope?”

Miss Plevins lowered her glass and shared a sad look with Agatha before answering. “Who would have us William? I’ve never made a secret of having a woman as a partner, but nobody seemed to know it, or admit they knew. But now that it’s in the open, I can’t find a place willing to accept me as their children’s teacher. I knew the day would come when we would have to leave Marshland, so I sent letters to schools in every town along the Faywater, and several along the coast. Word has gotten around, apparently. I’m afraid my teaching days are over.” Her eyes teared up as she said it, but she refused to give in to weeping. Still, she kept her gaze on the dish Mrs. Gracey set in front of her.

“You could teach here,” said William.

Miss Plevins looked up, hope replacing the despair in her face. “Oh William, do you mean it?” she asked in a soft voice.

Jack raised an eyebrow, his face full of concern. “Will, are you sure you can do this?”

“Yes, I’m certain,” he answered, knowing Jack was referring to the expense of paying and housing a teacher in such a small community. But he owed Miss Plevins this much, and more. And while he knew he couldn’t afford to keep bringing in strays, he couldn’t refuse her. “I can’t pay you much, Miss Plevins. In fact, I can only cover your rent for the first few months. But we’ll build you a home and a coop for your chickens, and you can sell eggs to earn a little money. You can eat here in the manor to save expenses and keep me company. The meeting hall will serve as a schoolhouse, which is just as well because it sits empty most days anyway. I hope you’ll accept, because what this barony needs even more than a statue of a distant king is a truly great teacher.”

The relief in the faces of Miss Plevins and Agatha was evident as they broke down and hugged. Melissa squeezed William’s hand, and even Jack’s face relaxed into a smile.

“Peggy told me you were a good, young man,” said Agatha, a smile lighting her face for the first time in William’s memory. “Now I see why.”

“You don’t know what this means to us, William. Thank you!” said Miss Plevins as she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Can I do anything for you in return?”

“I’m in your debt,” answered William. “Not the other way around. But if you would do one more thing for me…”

“Name it,” she said.

He glanced across the table to where Oz was pouring wine for Jack. “Oz needs a tutor. He wants to learn to read.”

Oz looked up, mortified, unaware Jack’s cup was overflowing. Jack cleared his throat, and Oz gasped as he realized his error. He quickly wiped the spill, his face a mixture of fear, hope, and embarrassment, all the while mumbling apologies to Jack. When the mess was cleaned, he looked at Miss Plevins, like a prisoner waiting to hear his fate.

“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 least 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.”