Harrowing Hats (16 page)

Neal moved his hand. Peter nodded and left us.

“I need someone inside,” Neal continued as we walked out of the tavern. “I need
you
, Lady Jessie. You could be my eyes and ears in Hariot’s shop. What do you say? I know you people don’t make much here. I could pay you if I bring in this story.”

I stopped in the middle of the cobblestones. “You need to leave Andre alone.” I punctuated my words by poking him in the chest. “He’s suffered enough.”

“The man killed his wife! Doesn’t that mean anything here? He’s gotten away with it all these years. Don’t you want justice for Kathleen Hariot and your friend that he murdered?”

We were standing face-to-face with my finger almost permanently wedged in his chest. As the day was drawing to a close, most visitors were finding their way back to the Main Gate. I could hear the music and laughter as the jugglers and musicians said good-bye to our guests as they were leaving.

I glanced up as I caught sight of Robin Hood and some of his men coming out of Sherwood Forest. They approached quickly when they saw me and surrounded Neal.

“Having a problem, Lady Jessie?” Robin asked.

“Nothing a night in Sherwood Forest wouldn’t help,” I told him.

“You hear that, good sir?” Robin’s right-hand man, Alex, asked the doomed reporter/madman. “We have a special treat for you! Huzzah!”

Robin gave his loud, obnoxious laugh—head back, mouth open. “Back to the trees, my Merry Men! I believe we have a good deed to do and a hardhearted knave to vanquish!”

“Hey! Wait a minute!” Neal tried to stop them as they got him up between them and started back into the forest. “I’m not really part of all this. Put me down! I’ll sue!”

Alex bowed deeply, his forest green hat in one hand. “A pleasure, as always, my lady. Until next time.” He kissed my hand and followed the Merry Men and Robin off the cobblestones.

“Jessie, Andre’s a killer!” Neal yelled before he disappeared into the trees. “Don’t trust him!”

T
he hats fit perfectly when I gave them to the dancers at the Stage Caravan. The delighted belly dancers even did a few turns in them and declared them exceptional. We were all set to finish the rest.

It only took a few minutes after I got back to the Dungeon to look up Neal Stevenson on the Internet and find out he really was a reporter for the
Times
. He’d worked on the story about Andre years ago, too. Still it seemed like a long way to come to follow up on a story. What was his game?

I tried to put it all behind me, at least for the evening. I wanted everything to be as perfect as I knew Chase wanted it to be. We didn’t really set up a lot of dates, like real couples. It warmed my heart that he still thought of me this way.

After I showered and changed into a new sundress Chase had never seen (backless, short skirt, sexy bodice—take that, fairies!), I walked down to the Pleasant Pheasant and picked up some apple pie with rum sauce for dessert. It was Chase’s favorite.

It was that dusky time of evening when it’s not really dark but not daylight either. Someone told me once that this is the best time to see ghosts. There were plenty in my life that I dragged around with me, but none I actually hoped to see.

I was thinking about Chase and our future together when a group of Templar Knights came riding out of the forest. There were about twenty of them—all mounted on large, black, magnificent horses and dressed in those ridiculously awesome costumes. Each of the knights carried a black shield with a red cross on it.

Residents stood to the side of the cobblestones and watched them go by. Visitors were long since gone, the Main Gate closed for the night.

Maybe people didn’t like them, but they couldn’t deny they were an inspiring sight. And the Village ladies seemed near to swooning when they went by. I wasn’t the only woman who was a little swept away by them.

I followed them along with several dozen other residents. They were headed for the Field of Honor.

“Should be quite a contest,” Mrs. Potts said, standing at my side when I reached the field.

“Contest?”

“Where is your head, Jessie? There are posters everywhere. Look! There’s the TV news people over there.”

Indeed there were several hundred posters stapled to the gates. And there were TV cameras at the opposite end of the field. I guess I’d been too busy to notice this event. The posters said the Knights Templar were going up against the queen’s personal knights for the honor of her majesty the following day.

“That should be something all right,” I agreed.

Something like a massacre. The Templars were well trained, fast, and knew how to work together. I could tell they’d make mincemeat out of the queen’s knights. Most of those loyal gentlemen were older, not too sure of their seats in the saddle, and unwilling to be placed in any possible jeopardy from a lance coming their way. They weren’t the daily show knights who fought regularly on the Field of Honor for visitors.

“They’ll get their tails whipped for sure!” Mrs. Potts said in a way that kind of scared me.

Most of the residents that had followed the knights to their practice had crowded on the bleachers where visitors usually watched the jousts. This was entertainment after a long, hot day of playing storybook characters or keeping their shops open.

“I’m seriously lusting after the big one over there,” a young wench who serves ale at the Pleasant Pheasant said in a dreamy voice. “They say his name is Neil. How hot is that?”

I glanced the way she pointed. The knight looked like the same one who’d brought me home from the encampment in the forest, the one I’d flirted with outside the gem shop. At least I thought it looked like the same one. He was big like him anyway. Otherwise, they all looked the same in their costumes.

“He’s got a good seat on his horse,” I added to the conversation.

“That’s not all he’s got,” the tavern wench said.

“Who are they?” one of the fortune-tellers asked.

“No one knows,” Bo Peep responded. “They have a secret society. Someone told me they can never say their names aloud.”

“Wow!” the serving wench said again.

Did I say residents followed the knights to the field? Perhaps I should be a bit more specific. I looked at their audience. There were no men, not even boys, in the group watching them practice. And all the women had lustful expressions on their faces.

“Have you been out to the encampment yet?” Bo Peep asked.

“No,” the fortune-teller replied. “But I’d like to. What’s it like?”

“Like them,” Bo Peep answered. “All black and hard and male. Lots of leather and smoke.”

This was getting kind of weird, even for me. I decided to head back to the Dungeon and hope Chase would be there soon. It was almost eight P.M. already. My nerves couldn’t stand much more.

The knights’ practice began to break up, too. It was just a teaser for the real thing tomorrow. The show was over, and the residents sighed as the horsemen left the field. There was still a lot of admiration going on in quiet conversation. It was clear everyone (female) loved them.

I turned back from the fence and skirted between the shops that made up Armorer’s Alley. It was quiet, cool, and dark now. The lights from the Village glowed softly as they would have if we were really living during the Renaissance.

I heard the sound of a horse coming toward me. This time, I stood still on one side, thinking he’d pass me by on his way back to the forest. But he slowed and stopped, gazing down at me.

“Good evening, my lady.” He inclined his head. His deep, raspy voice sounded the same. My heart did a little dance, and I told it to stop.

“Good evening, Sir Knight.”

“A lovely lady like you should not have to walk through the night to her house.” He dismounted in a heartbreakingly elegant fashion—especially considering he was wearing armor. “Allow me to see you to your domicile.”

It was only a short walk past the blacksmith’s shop and Stage Caravan to reach the Dungeon. I should have said no thanks. Instead, I kind of nodded and simpered. He swept me off my feet into his arms and settled me on his saddle, then proceeded to walk beside, leading the horse.

I was more than swept away—I was blown away. My heart was pounding, breath coming fast. I couldn’t even think of anything to say to him. It was almost unimaginable.

“Your clothing is most provocative, my lady,” the knight filled in for me. “Mayhap you should be more careful when alone in the dark.”

“I’m fine,” I assured him, but my voice sounded a little squeaky. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I mean, I’m done working for the day. Time for some fun, right?”

“A Templar Knight knows no fun.”

“How . . . sad. You must do something to relax after a hard day of—well, riding and whatever else you do.”

“Indeed.”

I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I didn’t ask him to explain. The horse moved slowly beneath me, a perfect angel. It was amazing considering the power I’d witnessed in the animal during practice.

“Look up! The stars attempt to rival the gleam in your eyes this night, my lady. I fear they are doomed to disappointment. No light, even a heavenly one, can achieve that unworthy goal.”

“Uh—excuse me?” Was he really flirting with me? I thought—well, maybe.

“We have reached your home.” He came to my side and lifted me off the horse. I felt like a doll in his grasp. His hands were strong at my waist.

“Thanks. I appreciate the ride.”

“You are most welcome, my lady fair.”

This was going too far. I was attracted to him, no doubt. But this couldn’t continue. It was fun, but I wouldn’t do this to Chase. “I’m sorry, Sir Knight, if I’ve given you the wrong impression.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes. I’m—with someone. There are hundreds of fair maidens who would love to ride around with you and enjoy—your horse. But I have someone waiting for me and I’ll have to bid you good-bye.”

He seemed surprised at first. Kind of taken aback. Finally he bent his head and kissed my hand. His lips lingered on my skin, making it sizzle. I definitely didn’t need to see him up close again.

“The loss of your company saddens me, lady. This man must be extraordinary to enjoy such loyalty.”

“He is indeed, Sir Knight. Farewell.” I took my hand away while I could and ran—not walked—into the Dungeon and shut the door. I stood with my back against it for a long time, breathing hard. I went upstairs to take another shower and get rid of the telltale horse smell from my ride home.

When I got out, Chase was there with food from Polo’s Pasta that smelled wonderful. “Sorry I’m so late. I’m going to jump in the shower, then we’ll eat.”

“Never mind that.” I grabbed him and brought his face close to mine. “I need some affection.”

He pulled away. “Sorry, Jessie. Just a minute and we’ll be fine.”

I sat on the bed and waited for him. Chase isn’t usually that particular. I mean, he showers regularly but usually he can manage to kiss me without getting cleaned up. What was he in such a hurry to wash off? Maybe just good honest sweat. It had been a long, hot day. And this was a special night. I reassured myself out of my sudden funk.

He came back out in snug jeans that clung to him in all the right places and an old Renaissance Village T-shirt that hugged his damp chest. His dark hair was loose around his shoulders as he put pasta and salad on plates and lit a candle.

“I have wine, too.” He poured each of us a glass, then sat on the bed beside me. “To us,” he proposed a toast. “Happy anniversary.”

I thought about it for a long moment, then looked at him blankly. “What?”

“It’s our anniversary. We met five years ago today.”

“Oh.”

He put down his glass. “You don’t sound very excited.”

“I’m more—surprised. That’s all.”

“Okay. You still sound kind of funny. Is something wrong?”

“No.” I held up my glass and smiled. “You just have a better memory than me.” We clinked our glasses together and kissed before we ate our pasta.

I stopped thinking, speculating. This wasn’t turning out to be what I’d expected. But that was okay. Chase remembered that we met five years ago. That was good, right?

“So ask me,” he prompted.

“Ask you?”

“Ask me when I knew that I loved you. That’s what everyone wants to know.”

I took a big drink of wine. “When did you know?”

“The minute I met you. You were working as a kitchen wench, carrying a platter of food. You asked me if I wanted corn or potatoes. Remember?”

I didn’t remember, and it made me feel guilty. “You really do have a better memory than me.”

“When did you know, Jessie?”

I looked into his clear brown eyes, loving his lips and the little imperfections in his handsome face. “I don’t know. It just kind of happened, I guess.”