Ghastly Glass (19 page)

“Yes.” Roger sniffed and got to his feet. He wiped his nose and eyes on his sleeve (
yuck!
), then advanced on me with his sword raised. “Make it look good, then yield.”

“You make it look good, then yield,” I said back. “I’m not surrendering.”

As his sword hit mine, I realized it might’ve been a mistake to disagree. Even though I wasn’t in any immediate danger, the clash of the blades tore at my arm and shoulder muscles. I was going to feel this for a while.

Roger hit his sword against mine a few more times while the crowd alternately booed and cheered, depending on their cheerleaders. I hit back, even though it was hard. Roger took a step back, and I pushed my advantage by taking a step forward and hitting his sword again.

“Jessie,” he said with gritted teeth. “I have bad shoulders. You have to yield.”

“No! This isn’t any fun for me either.
You
yield.”

“It won’t look right for a man to yield to a woman. We’ll be pelted by vegetables. We might both end up in the kitchen for the rest of the night. Yield!”

I hit his sword again and he dropped to his knees. “You yield, Roger! I don’t care how it looks. I’m not giving up.”

Lord Dunstable was giving us the cut sign, which meant,
End it before the audience loses interest.
I glanced up at the king and queen. Chase seemed to be the only one sitting with the royal court who was even watching.

Roger hit my sword again and dragged himself off the floor. “Jessie, if nothing else, think about me and Mary. How will it look for Mary’s future husband to lose to a mere wench in armor? ”

That was it. “I can’t believe you called me a wench!” I hit his sword hard with mine. He staggered back on the floor again, heavy beads of sweat on his face. “You know, this is so typical. Why do you think all those bishops killed Joan of Arc? They couldn’t handle a woman being better than them. But sometimes, we just are.”

I didn’t think about my apprenticeship with Roger or anything else this duel would affect. I just kept hitting his sword until he dropped it on the floor and shouted, “Yield! I yield.”

Then I sat down on the sawdust myself, exhausted. My arm felt like a rubber noodle. I could barely move it. But I’d won. I wasn’t sure what I’d won. At the time it was enough that I’d won.

Chase jumped over the guardrail and into the arena to help me up. Mary was at Roger’s side right away, darting angry glances at me. Lord Dunstable declared me the winner of the bout. We all stood (or came close to it) and faced the king and queen.

“This has been most entertaining!” King Harold pronounced, and the crowd roared their approval. “We are satisfied that justice has been served. No man will accost Princess Isabel again without facing our wrath.”

“Your Majesty!” Roger addressed the king. “I ask that you bless my union with this good woman, Mary of Wicked Weaves. Our two houses would like to be joined.”

“What, ho! This is good news for the Village. Of course, Sir Roger of the Glass Gryphon. We would be happy to declare your vows at this time.”

Queen Olivia trilled, “It’s for the best, Sir Roger. Who else would want a man beaten by a maid? Your Mary is indeed a treasure. Stand before us now and declare your vows.”

Chase stood with me (good thing, I don’t think I could’ve stood by myself) while Mary and Roger pronounced their vows. The funny thing was that it was all legal. Mary and Roger would have to get a license from the state, but Harry had taken his test to be a justice of the peace a few years back. There were a lot of weddings at the Village. Once the vows were spoken, they were as good as married.

I carefully glanced at Chase so he wouldn’t see me. He was looking at Roger and Mary kissing. What was
he
thinking? Had he ever thought about getting married? Not to
me
or anything. Just in general.

When it was over, the minstrels in the gallery played several songs while the rest of us left the field to make room for the jousts. Tony waved to me from the stands. He wasn’t wearing his devil outfit. There was no wraith wrapped around him. No dancing girl either, come to think of it. What was he up to?

I tried to pick up my sword. There was just no way. Chase snatched it up for me. “I think you need to work those arms some if you’re going to play with swords,” he said.

“This is the last time,” I promised him. “No wonder Joan of Arc got roasted. She was probably too tired from fighting. That’s how the bishops got her.”

Mary and Roger walked arm in arm off the field in front of us. I noticed with a smirk that Mary had to put Roger’s sword back in its scabbard. I guess I wasn’t the only one who was tired.

“Have you ever thought about getting married, Jessie? ” Chase asked.

“No. Not really.” I smiled at him, my heart beating fast. “You? ”

“No. Not really. My parents think about it for me all the time.” He shrugged. “I guess I just don’t see any reason for it.”

“Me either.”

This conversation was charged with unspoken thoughts and terrors that lurked in the night. Did this mean each of us was destined to be alone when we were old and gray? Or did it mean we just weren’t right for each other, not the spend-the-rest-of-your-life serious? Who could say? I wanted to bite my nails—my usual response when I’m stressed—but my arms were too tired to lift that high.

As soon as we left the field, Lonnie met us to tell Chase he was needed in the Village. It should’ve been empty during the feast. Security guards herd everyone who doesn’t partake of the King’s Feast out the main gate before the event starts. What problem could there be now?

Chase didn’t even ask. “I’ll take your sword with me, Jessie. I guess I’ll meet you back at the dungeon.”

I was depressed he didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go with him. Back over the summer when our relationship was new, he would’ve asked.

I stood around after he and Lonnie left, worried about losing Chase to some unnamed woman he might want to marry someday and wishing I could bite my fingernails. It wasn’t good or sane. There was nowhere to hide from my own stupid thoughts.

One of the king’s pages came up and tugged at my armor. “His Majesty would enjoy your company for the feast as his champion. If you will follow me.”

Another time, I would’ve said no. But depression and anxiety don’t make for good eating partners, so I went back with the page to the royal dais overlooking the jousting area. Princess Isabel giggled and told me how much she appreciated my help, then invited me to sit at her side. That was a novelty. She’d always had eyes for Chase and treated me like a third wheel.

The page put a plate in front of me, and Princess Isabel scooted closer at the long table. “We have to do something about Henry. I wanted to see him humiliated tonight. That didn’t work out. Any suggestions? ”

I sipped my iced tea and contemplated what to say. I didn’t trust her. She could just as easily take anything I said back to Henry in hope of having a chance with him. “What did you have in mind? ”

Princess Isabel daintily stabbed her steak knife over and over into her slab of roast beef. “Something like that. I wish I could’ve been there when you took him out. I’ve heard it was great. There’s not a single good-looking woman in this Village who doesn’t admire you for that, Jessie.”

Okay. I was flattered. She actually put me in the good-looking-woman class. Who knew she’d ever noticed? “It wasn’t much. Just a few moves I learned in self-defense at the university.”

“Wow! That must be nice. Marian and I might go to the Y and take some classes. She hasn’t said anything to Robin or the Merry Men. You
know
how they are. We don’t want a war between the Craft Guild and the Forest Guild.” I saw her fist tighten on her steak knife, but she took a deep breath and put it down on her plate. “God, it would be good to feel Henry’s bones crack under my heel!”

I was a little scared by Princess Isabel’s bloodthirsty look. I finished my meal, then excused myself from the Royal Court. I had
thought
it would be better being with people. I was wrong. Or at least not that kind of people.

Tired after the long workday and duel-filled evening, I decided to head for home. Hopefully I’d be able to work on my glass art tomorrow, and I wanted to be fresh. I refused to think that Roger would kick me out again because of the duel.

The moon was still big and round over the castle. The
Queen’s Revenge
was sailing back toward the tavern on the other side of the lake. I wanted to shake my fist at Rafe and promise vengeance, but I had no idea what I could possibly do to get back at him. The weird, fake fog had a greenish tint to it tonight. It made the ghostly images look even worse. The bats screeched and the werewolf wailed. I yawned, too tired to be scared.

Then I saw him. The figure of Death was skulking around the privies next to Polo’s Pasta. He carried his scythe, the moon glinting eerily off the metal.

I started to cross the King’s Highway as fast as I could. He didn’t seem to have seen me yet. Maybe I still had time to get inside before he noticed me. But the closest place was the tavern by the lake, and I didn’t want to go through anything with the pirates again. My other option, Peter’s Pub, was a long sprint from there.

I stepped into the shadows of the Hanging Tree and watched as Death moved in and out of the spaces between buildings. He looked as though he were searching for something.
Probably me.
He didn’t get enough of a laugh from scaring the crap out of me before. I certainly didn’t want to volunteer for another fun time with him. But besides cowering where I was, I couldn’t see any way out of my predicament.

Then I remembered something I’d heard when I was a child. I think it was a story my grandmother read to me and Tony. It was about a kid who was afraid of what was in his closet. We’re talking afraid like he wouldn’t go anywhere near it. He had good reason because there were colored lights under the door and the closet made a scary noise.

When he’d tell his parents, they’d look and nothing was in there, of course. But as soon as they were gone, it came back. Finally (and this was the moral of the story) he had to get up, in the dark, all alone and open the closet. He somehow managed this (Tony and I never understood how, since we were scared just hearing about it). He yelled out to the closet to stop. After that, nothing scary ever happened to him again. At least not from the closet.

As I watched Death pass Galileo’s place and swerve toward the Village Square, I made up my mind to be that little boy in the story. I was going to have to confront Death and demand that he leave me alone. That was the only thing to do.

My arms had recovered a little. They were just shaky now. I clenched my hands into fists and yelled as loudly as I could, “Leave me alone!”

The Village lay sleeping, quiet between us. Death turned to face me and held his scythe high with his bony hand. It was a challenge. I reached for my sword.
Chase had it!
Heart pounding, knees knocking, I grabbed a branch that had fallen from the Hanging Tree. With a victory cry that hopefully curdled his blood, I held my stick up and ran at him as hard as I could.

D
eath stood his ground. I kept hoping he’d run away. But how many times does the monster run away in horror movies? I don’t remember ever seeing Dracula run when the peasants came after him.

The closer I got to the hooded figure, the larger he seemed. The green-tinted fog swirled around him like some ghostly creature of the night.

I clutched my tree branch a little tighter as I reminded myself that this was only a man. Maybe a large man, but still only a man. I’d taken Henry out fairly easily, enough so that the women of the Village were looking up to me. All I had to do was stay cool and remember my moves. How hard could it be? The bigger they are, the harder they fall. That’s what they always say.

I was pumped up, psyched for the encounter. I ran faster as I passed the Good Luck Fountain and started yelling even louder. I’d read once that the idea of screaming at your opponent came from the earliest tribal instinct to instill fear in your enemy. I could only hope I was instilling a lot of fear.

When he was finally standing within arm’s reach, I hurled my whole body at him, prepared to jump up as soon as he crashed to the ground. I wasn’t going to be afraid of this myth anymore, skeletal hand or not.

Unfortunately, nothing happened. Well, not so much nothing happened as nothing happened to
him
. I hit him hard (and I’m no lightweight), but it didn’t phase him. I don’t think he even moved. I hit his chest and midsection and bounced off to the ground. It happened so fast that I thought for a moment someone else had broadsided me.

But no. It was just me and Death out in the middle of the King’s Highway. I fell hard on the cobblestones.
This is going to cause some bruising.
The tree limb flew from my hands. My arm and head ached from smashing into him full force.