Hard Day's Knight (42 page)

“I will. Bliss?” I leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks for everything.”

“Do me proud, girl,” she said in a gruff voice. “You’ve got it in you to be a world-class jouster if you just stick with it.”

I glanced over to the right to the practice ring, where Walker and a couple other jousters were warming up their horses. He raised his hand high in a victory sign, turning Marley to leave the ring. I waved and started up the long ramp into the arena, stopping at the gate. Veronica was talking to one of the competition officials, the long-haired, bearded man who was acting as list marshal, her hands gesticulating despite the fact that she was in full armor. The official protested something, but she cut him off, spinning on her heel to walk over to Gladiator, the sharp-tempered Friesian who was Tansy’s twin as far as caparisons went. To the left was the Aussie I was going to joust against. I gave her a friendly smile and nod, which she answered just as happily. Inside the arena the crowd roared as one jouster took down another.

“Don’t drop the lance until the last minute, aim a bit high and to the left—no, wait, to the right; she leans to the left—and remember to drop the reins,” I muttered to myself, more than a little bit nervous at the upcoming joust. It wasn’t the first one I’d done without the familiar shield to take the blow—Bliss and Walker had been working me for long hours the last couple of days—but it was the first time I had jousted Southern Italian with a stranger, someone who didn’t give a fig about setting me down gently rather than just blasting me off the horse.

Tansy moved to the side as the two jousters exited the ring. I looked behind me to see Walker waiting at the bottom of the ramp, talking with Butcher, but watching me. I reminded myself that although he wouldn’t stop loving me if I were so nervous I barfed in the middle of the arena, I really didn’t want to end the competition on a note of vomit.

“Save the lance till the last minute, aim high and to the right, and drop the—Huh?”

The voice of the announcer, tinny and somewhat drowned out by the buzz of the crowd, was supplemented by a crier who stood outside the entrance, bellowing the names of the next combatants.

“Candy Roman, of Joust for Fun, and Veronica Tyler, Palm Springs Jousting Guild, in the arena, please.”

“Veronica?” I asked, looking at the crier, then back at Walker. He was too far behind me to hear, and obviously didn’t know what was going on, but I knew. Oh, I knew—Veronica had somehow convinced the list marshal to switch our positions. I was willing to bet everything I had that there was some sort of weird rule allowing team members to switch spots—which meant I’d have to joust against Walker.

My mind balked at the thought of just what that would mean.

“I won’t let that happen,” I swore. “I will not destroy him now that he’s finally found his feet. She will not beat us!”

Veronica gave me a horrible smile as she waited for Candy to ride into the arena. Unsure of what she should do (and no doubt terrified of the thought of going against the much more experienced Veronica), Candy remained poised at the entrance.

Her husband raced to the judging area and began arguing vehemently with the marshal, but he was having none of it, waving the Australian off as he strode toward the center of the arena. The Aussie looked at his wife helplessly for a couple of seconds, then ran after the marshal to try again.

“Second call for Candy Roman and Veronica Tyler.”

Candy looked around nervously. I turned Tansy’s head and nudged her over to where Veronica sat on the handsome black. “Tell me, Veronica, just what sort of blackmail did you have to resort to in order to get us switched?”

“Blackmail is such a harsh word,” she said with another sharky smile. “I prefer persuaded. It’s all perfectly legal, you know. As the team captain, I have the power to change the order of jousts should I feel one of my team members is in a position to move up the ranks. Congratulations on your promotion.”

“You heartless bitch,” I said softly, without any heat.

“Third and final call for Candy Roman and Veronica Tyler. If you do not enter the list now, ladies, your match will be forfeit and your teams disqualified.”

Candy bit her lip, hesitated for a second, shot Veronica a look of loathing, then urged her horse into the arena.

“Have a lovely joust, dear,” the she-witch of Palm Springs said as she followed Candy.

I turned in the saddle to gesture to Walker, but he was bent to the side, signing autographs for a crowd of teens and a couple of squires. He was too far away to hear me over the noise of the arena, and the squires and grooms dashing back and forth blocked my path so I couldn’t turn Tansy and ride to him.

“Hey, you!” Sukey was already in the arena, serving Veronica, so I yelled at an empty-handed squire. I beckoned the lanky teen over, awkwardly dismounting and shoving the reins into his hands. “Hold my horse for a minute.”

The judges loge was midway down the ring, on a raised platform on the arena floor. It was hard work stumbling in full armor through the soft dirt-and-sand mixture that was gentle on the horses’ hooves. I skirted the edge and was halfway across the ring when the marshal called, “Lay on!” into his microphone, and the two horses jumped forward.

Candy never stood a chance. The crowd yelled their approval as Veronica sent her flying backward over her horse’s rump.

“Marshal? Can I talk to you for a minute?”

The list marshal, wearing a crown and fancy purple robes, frowned as I staggered up to him. “What are you doing here? Jousters are not allowed on the field unless they are acting in the capacity of squire.”

“It’s about what my team captain did—whatever she told you, it wasn’t true. I’m not so improved that I’m ready to joust Walker McPhail.”

“My decision is final, Miss Whatever-your-name-is. If you wish to file a grievance, you may do so after the joust.” He dismissed me without a thought.

“But that won’t do me any good
now,
” I argued.

“My decision is final,” he said again, turning away from me. I knew then that Veronica really had blackmailed him somehow. Probably she’d slept with him, too.

“Your decision sucks, and you can just bet your bottom dollar I’ll be filing that grievance, and one against the dubious ethics of a list marshal who allows himself to be blackmailed.”

He didn’t even look at me as he said, “I believe they are calling for you. It is preferred that jousters enter the list on horseback, but if you wish to joust on foot . . .”

I swore as I ran back toward the opening. Veronica was just leaving after taking her victory lap around the ring, waving and smiling at the yelling fans. Candy limped past me, having bowed out of the remaining two runs of the match, yielding the win to Veronica. Walker dislodged his gang of adoring teens and was next to where Tansy stood.

Veronica blew him a kiss as she rode by, Walker watching her in surprise for a few seconds; then his head snapped around to me. I knew the moment he realized what she had done—his hands went tight on the reins and Marley reared in protest.

“Walker McPhail, Three Dog Knights, and Pepper Marsh, Palm Springs Jousting Guild, in the arena, please.”

Walker’s roar of protest had both horses dancing nervously, and several squires covering their ears.

“Help me up,” I ordered the squire who was trying to calm Tansy. With a boost to my rear, I managed to get into the saddle.

“Pepper!” Walker bellowed, heading straight for me.

“Shush,” I ordered when he got close enough to hear me. “Walker, I talked to the list marshal; there’s nothing we can do.”

“Yes, there is. I won’t joust with you.”

“You have to,” I said as quietly as I could and still be heard. Tansy didn’t like being so close to Marley, tossing her head and laying her ears back, but I told her to get a grip and reached across for Walker’s hand. “I don’t want to do this any more than you do, but Walker, we have to. If you forfeit this match, your titles and the prize money will be stripped from you and the rest of the team.”

“I don’t care about the damned money. I will not joust with you.”

“
I
care about the money. After Vandal’s mortgage is paid off, you all share the remainder of the winnings equally, right? Of your sixth share, half of it is going to go to the government in taxes, so that leaves you with only a twelth, which means we’re going to need you to win today in order to have enough to start a life together.”

“We can have a life together without it,” he snapped.

“Second call—Walker McPhail and Pepper Marsh.”

“But we’ll have a better one with the money. I can go back to vet school. We can go to Central America so you can meet my mother. We can buy a house.”

His eyes were dark, but I could see the panic in them as he leaned close, his breath hissing along my face. “Pepper, I could kill you. I could cripple you for life like I did the German five years ago.”

“But you won’t,” I said, squeezing his hand, throwing every ounce of love and confidence I had into my eyes so he would see how much faith I had in him. “You’re not the same man you were then, Walker. You’re better. You’re smarter. You won’t hurt me.”

His teeth ground together for a few seconds. “There’s nothing to stop
you
from forfeiting the match.”

“Nothing but my honor,” I said softly, pushing aside his mail coif so I could touch my gloved hand to his cheek. “I wouldn’t mind stripping Veronica of her wins and prize money, but I can’t do that to the rest of her team. They’re innocent. If I quit now, they all lose. That’s not fair to them. They worked hard.”

“Third and final call for Walker McPhail and Pepper Marsh,” the crier yelled, looking directly at us.

“We have to do this, Walker. There are too many other people counting on us.”

He pulled away from me, reaching for his black helm, jerking it over his head as he dug his heels into Marley’s side. “Nothing says I have to joust well.”

“I say you do! Those judges will be watching you extremely closely. If they see you deliberately pulling your blows and taking it easy on me, they’re not going to give you the points. Farrell is only a little behind you. If you don’t get the full points for jousting seriously, you’ll be out of the money. We
need
that money, Walker!”

He ground his teeth at me, but said nothing, turning Marley toward the opening of the arena.

I muttered to his back a couple of rude things about men who were too chivalrous for their own good as he rode into the ring. I was still muttering as I took the shiny helm from Sukey, jerking on my cloth cap before easing the helm over my head. Tansy danced forward a few steps into the arena. I reined her in at the opening as Walker’s music, the
Triumphal March
from
Aida,
blared throughout the arena.

Marley pranced forward, the big horse showing off for all he was worth. Rather than take his processional ride around the ring so everyone could cheer him on and throw favors at him, however, Walker went straight to his end of the list. The crowd, hyped up to see Walker the Wild joust, didn’t know quite what to think of that, and everyone sat down while the remainder of Walker’s music played.

My music (“Saturday Night,” by the Bay City Rollers—it was the only tape I could get my hands on in a short time) started. Tansy didn’t need any urging to trot into the ring, her neck arched beautifully as she, too, played up to the crowd. Following Walker’s lead, I didn’t circle the arena, but rode straight to the man I loved.

With one gloved hand I flipped up my visor when I was close enough to yell over the noise of the music and cheering audience. “Listen here, you great big adorable man! Stop giving up! You wouldn’t let me quit, and I’m not going to let you.”

He shoved his visor up, too, his mercurial eyes blazing at me from the shadows of his helm. “I will
not
hurt you!”

“Damn straight you won’t; you’re too talented to hurt me. But if you pull your punches, I’ll know, and I’ll never forgive you, so put that in your helm and smoke it!”

I slammed down my visor before he could reply, wheeling Tansy around and cantering her down to the end of the list.

Before I could so much as reach for my lance, Walker was upon us, bellowing over the music and the audience, “I love you, you infuriating woman!”

“I know,” I yelled back, then realized he couldn’t hear me with my visor closed, so I opened it and yelled even louder, “I love you, too, but if you don’t win this match, I’ll make your life a living hell, and don’t you think I can’t do it!”

“The next woman I fall in love with is
really
going to hate horses,” he swore before sliding his visor down and spinning Marley into a turn.

“The
next
woman? Oh, you wish,” I yelled to his back, closing my visor and reaching for the lance. The announcer pumped the crowd up with Walker’s exploits and wins, including a detailed list of all his tourney wins. He was noticeably silent about me, but I didn’t care. I was too busy praying to as many deities as I could think of to survive the joust without injury. I didn’t care so much for my own sake—although I truly didn’t care for the idea of being pummeled by Walker—but I knew that if he injured me, his jousting career would be over. Worse, I’d spend the rest of my life trying to get him to believe in himself, and he’d spend the rest of his convinced he was a miserable failure.

“Lance up until the last minute, aim dead center on the grand guard, drop the reins, let go of the lance as it falls,” I murmured. Tansy’s ears twitched, a fine tremor running through her as she waited. Veronica had trained her well, I had to admit, Tansy was extremely responsive to leg cues and loved to run. I was grateful that at least one of us knew what she was doing.

“Lay on!”

The audience surged to their feet with a roar as Tansy sprang forward, taking me by surprise for a second before I realized she was cantering down the list. I gritted my teeth against the coming impact, sighted Walker’s black grand guard, and lowered my lance.