Hard Day's Knight (25 page)

I sat, my stomach twisting with fear for Walker. What had previously seemed like fun suddenly took on grim overtones. I knew it was irrational, but I couldn’t help it. That was
my
man down there being pummeled! “This is hard to watch. I don’t know how you can stand it with Butcher.”

“I have faith in him. You need to trust that Walker knows what he’s doing.”

“Easier said than done,” I said softly, sick with worry. CJ was right. I was going to be a candidate for the nearest insane asylum unless I got control of myself. What I needed to do was to be more like CJ. She was supportive. She stood at the sidelines to yell and cheer Butcher on. She never once fainted from sheer, unadulterated horror whenever he took a hit.

What CJ could do, I could do. I rallied my pride and put on a brave, supportive face.

“You look like you’re going to barf,” CJ whispered. “Stop worrying. There are five judges watching every joust. If the Aussie does something wrong, they’ll say so.”

“It’s all right, Pepper, really it is. Walker is used to taking falls,” Fenice said sympathetically. “He’s not hurt. See? He’s up and about already.”

I nibbled on my thumbnail as Butcher helped Walker to his feet, dusting him off and giving him a hand in remounting Marley. Vandal had a fresh lance ready, placing it in Walker’s outstretched hand. “Oh, God, why did I think this was such a good idea? He could get himself killed!”

“Not our Walker. He’s the best there is,” Bliss boasted, but there were tension lines around her mouth that belied her concern.

The second run was much better, at least as far as my nerves were concerned. Both Walker and the Aussie jouster kept their seats, both of them shattering their lances. The third and fourth ended up with touches, but no broken lances. The fifth time Walker unhorsed his opponent, and the sixth ended up with them both losing lances.

“What’s his total score?” I asked, too worried to add the points up. “Does he qualify? Tell me he qualifies!”

“We won’t know that until the end,” Bliss said. My heart clenched like a fist.

While the second jouster entered the ring, I turned to Bos. “Will they let Walker qualify for the jousts you did yesterday?”

He shook his head. “It won’t be necessary—as an alternate, he assumes the points of the person he replaced, namely me. Since I qualified for Northern Italian and French, as my alternate he’s automatically entered.”

“Oh, good.” I gnawed on my lip a little more while watching the new knight. There was something about his green-and-taupe surcoat that was vaguely . . . “Oh, my god, he’s jousting one of the Palm Springs team!”

“Not just one of them,” Fenice said, pointing to the electronic scoreboard at the far end of the arena. The scoreboard was used to show the number of points earned by the jousters on each pass. On one side of the scoreboard was Walker’s name, while the other side read: TYLER, V.

“What? He’s jousting
Veronica
?”

Bliss sighed.

“Of all the people to get in the draw . . . Ronnie’ll make mincemeat out of him,” Fenice predicted sadly.

I stared in shock as the two jousters rode to the opposite ends of the list, positioning themselves so the barrier running the length of the list was on each knight’s right. “What? She will? Walker? Are you sure? Why? I thought he taught her!”

“Yes, he taught her, but he’ll also allow his emotions to interfere and will pull back rather than attack her the way he should,” Fenice said in a low whisper.

“Attack?”
I asked, beyond worried.

“Jousting-wise, she means,” Bliss explained. “The problem with Walker is that he’s just too nice—he’s afraid of hurting her. We’ve told him time and time again that we can take the hits as well as any man, but he does tend to pull his punches when he jousts against a woman.”

“And that’s not good,” I said, my fingers tightening around Moth’s thin leather leash.

“No.”

“Are you saying he’s going to lose because he won’t joust as aggressively as he should?” The words croaked out of my mouth, which, considering that my heart was thumping away like mad in my throat, was a minor miracle in itself.

Bliss glanced back at Bos, then returned her gaze to the arena floor. “If the judges see he’s deliberately going easy on her, there’s a chance of exactly that, yes.”

“Well, hell,” I said, handing Bos Moth’s leash. While only a few women were at the railing calling for their champions and waving the colorful strips of cloth that served as the favors, I decided that Walker needed every last bit of encouragement he could get, and accordingly stepped over Bos’s and Geoff’s legs, leaping down the stairs with the sound of CJ calling after me. Cheerleader Pepper to the rescue!

I ran to the end of the arena, where Walker was just reaching down to take the lance from Butcher. He couched it on the lance rest, nodding to the marshal that he was ready. Just as the marshal opened his mouth to give them the signal to start, I leaned over the railing and bellowed, “Knock her on her butt, Walker! No mercy!”

His head turned in my direction, but I doubted if he could see me, since the helm didn’t allow him much range of vision.

“Lay on!” the marshal yelled, and Marley leaped forward. I watched for a moment to make sure he wasn’t favoring his leg, but quickly yanked my attention back to the jousters, holding my breath as Veronica lowered her lance toward the man with whom I was now hopelessly in love.

“This is the stupidest sport I have ever seen,” I growled to myself as Veronica’s lance slammed into the left upper side of Walker’s chest. His hit her at the same time. Although she rocked backward in her saddle, she stayed in it.

Walker wasn’t
quite
so fortunate.

“That was a good try; she just got lucky,” I yelled down as he got to his feet. “You’ll get her on the next run!”

Vandal led Marley over to him, but Walker didn’t climb back onto the huge black horse. Instead he walked slowly over to where I was leaning precariously over the railing, tilted back the face plate of his helm, and glared up at me. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Encouraging you. It’s called being supportive. You can thank me later.”

“Support is fine, but I’ll thank you now to not distract me the second before the run is called,” he snapped, and started lowering his visor.

I leaned down even lower, realizing that I was about a one-thirty-second of an inch away from popping completely out of my bodice. “Walker?”

He raised his visor again. “What?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

He froze.

“I just thought you’d want to know that. Good luck!”

He stood there absolutely still for another three seconds, then lowered his visor and spun around on his heel, marching resolutely back to Marley.

Butcher handed him the lance, and before I could add my voice to the others screaming their support, he was off and thundering down the list.

“That was a good shot,” I yelled out helpfully as Butcher got him upright from where Veronica had knocked him off Marley. “I have faith that the next one will do the trick! Go get her, tiger!”

Halfway across the ring as I was, I could still hear him muttering under his breath.

“You’re doing really well,” I said as he passed by me. “I’m so proud of you. You’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”

“No, I’m not hurt,” he growled, but before I could reply he marched past to where Vandal was holding Marley.

I chewed my lip, pushing down all the worry and fear that roiled around inside me so that all that showed was my belief in him. “You da man!” I yelled loudly to be heard over the screaming of the other fans.

Butcher’s shoulders shook as Walker swung his leg over the saddle, snatching the lance from his burly squire.

“Who wants to do the wave?” I turned to ask the crowd behind me just as the marshal yelled “Lay on!”

I spun around, the fingers of both hands crossed tightly as Marley and Veronica’s gray pounded down the arena, the high overhead lights shining brightly on Veronica’s shiny, bright armor. The lances were lowered and held for the count of three before both slammed into the oncoming person’s armor, the tips shattering in suitably dramatic style. Veronica listed heavily to the left, and I thought she was going to go off for a second or two, but she clung to the horse’s mane and managed to drag herself upright again.

“I think he needs to change his strategy,” I told CJ, who had come to stand at the rail with me. “Maybe I should tell him that.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t and say you did,” CJ advised.

“You’re the one who said I should be supportive,” I pointed out as Walker limped over to Marley. “You’re the one who said I should have faith. I’m doing both.”

“I know, and I’m sure he appreciates it, but he has to focus right now. Come on; you can be supportive and full of faith with the rest of the group.” CJ tugged on my arm.

I heaved a sad little sigh as I watched Walker remount Marley. If only the darling man knew how much he needed me!

“No, you go. I’m going to stay here.”

CJ went back to sit with the rest of the Three Dog Knights team, all of whom sat with grim faces.

Their obvious concern added to my worry. “How many falls did you say a person could take before they were disqualified?”

“Four,” Bliss answered.

I straightened my shoulders as I turned back to the railing, taking my place with renewed determination.

“Butcher!” I waved him over as he walked a few feet away, heading toward Walker with an unbroken lance.

“What?” he asked, pausing.

“I want you to tell Walker something for me. Tell him I know he can do this. Tell him he’s the best there is. Tell him that we all believe in him. And tell him that later tonight, I’ll let him shoe me again.”

“Oooh, kinky,” CJ said from five rows up.

Butcher grinned and waggled the lance at me. My fingers were white as I clutched the railing when Butcher put the lance in Walker’s waiting hand. “You can do it, Walker; I know you can.” The words turned into a mantra, whispered in time to the pounding of my heart. Walker couched the end of the lance onto the saddle rest, then nodded to the marshal. “You can do it, you can do it. Please, just hang on for four more runs.”

“Lay on!”

“You can do it, you can do it.” The words were louder now as Marley sprang forward straight into a full canter, charging down the list at a speed that had bits of dirt and sand flying from his huge hooves.

“You can do it, you can do it!” I said over the roar of the crowd as everyone surged to their feet. Walker’s lance began its downward arc at the same moment Veronica got him in her sights.

“You can do it, you can do it!”
I screamed, jumping up and down as the two opponents charged with apparent deadly force at each other. Veronica’s tip slammed into the piece of armor that covered Walker’s throat, lifting him up and out of the saddle. His lance slid across her chest plate, nailing her on the right rather than the left side. I screamed meaningless words as Walker battled to stay in the saddle, and then with a huge crack of the lances, he was past her, still in the saddle, holding a lance that was broken in the middle.

Veronica flew backward over the rump of her horse, landing heavily on her butt, just as I predicted. I yelled my happiness with the rest of the crowd, everyone cheering Walker on, no doubt because everyone there was aware of just how important that pass was.

The two remaining passes were draws—both Veronica and Walker breaking lances, but neither of them taking a dive.

“He did it, he did it,” I sang as I danced up the steps to where the rest of the team was sitting. Walker and Vandal and Butcher were leaving the ring, followed by Veronica and her team. I picked Moth up and kissed him right between the horns, ignoring the cat’s disgusted look as I plopped myself down beside Bos. “I’m so happy, I could burst into song! In fact, I think I will. Hey, guys, sing with me! ‘Happy days are here again . . .’ ”

No one was singing. In fact, no one would even look at me. They were all watching the scoreboard like it was about to burst out into a pair of legs and go for a gallop around the arena.

“Uh—guys? Why aren’t you singing? Why aren’t you happy? Walker won, right? He didn’t get DQ’d?”

“He didn’t get disqualified,” Bliss eventually said, her mouth still tense. “But that doesn’t mean he has enough points to qualify.”

“Those three falls hurt him.” Bos nodded.

I stared at them, each one in turn, and felt my happiness shrivel up and turn to lead in my stomach. “But . . .not so much that he couldn’t qualify, surely?”

“Only the top eighty percent make it to the competition,” Geoff said softly, his arm around Bos. “The bottom twenty percent, those with the lowest scores, don’t compete.”

“Oh, god,” I moaned, my stomach doing an unpleasant somersault. I turned to watch the scoreboard as well, sucking my lower lip as I waited for the list of people who qualified to be displayed.

Voices were subdued during the five minutes it took for the scores to be listed. People didn’t wander around chatting as they usually did, probably because by that time, all the jousters had run and were waiting to see if they would make the cut. I clutched Moth until he protested with a particularly penetrating yowl.

“Sorry,” I apologized to him.

He bit my knee.

At long last the announcer said the judges had verified the scores, and the names of the jousters who had qualified for Southern Italian and Realgestech would be posted.

The number one spot went to Farrell.

“Yeah, well, he probably cheated,” I said softly.

Number eight was Butcher.

“Yay!” CJ crowed. I waited until she looked away to mouth,
He’s bigger than everyone else,
to Bos. He snickered.

Tenth was Veronica. “She’s sneaky,” I said as her name scrolled by.