Hide & Seek

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  The others who had been carefully building the tournament field at the western edge of the flat ground beyond the cliffs, now clustered at the door of Ninester’s cottage, and came in one by one. None of them looked as though they’d been exhausted by heavy labour. It had all been achieved by magic and argument.

  Messina regarded the blown in door. “Strange,” she said. “You didn’t do that, did you, mother?”

  “Naturally not,” said Granny. “Now sit down and keep quiet, and I shall call up more biscuits.”

  It was after the explanation of what had actually happened, that Zakmeister said, “Well, that’s excellent. Two men less to fight.”

  “Two nasty wizards less,’ corrected Poppy. “That’s even better.”

  Bayldon stood, smiling widely. “What’s even better,” he said, “is that for once no one is missing and we aren’t worried about anyone being in danger. No one needs rescuing and no one needs to rescue us. That’s the news I like to hear.”

  “Well, there’s half the group left back at the cottage,” said Poppy. “They might all have got abducted by Jellywop for all we know.”

  “A very sensible idea,” said Granny. “Then there’d be far fewer dishes for Jellywop to wash.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Jousting field was vast, grand, very flat and very well surrounded by wooden benches for spectators, with trees behind.

  “Most grounds have high stands on both sides for those watching,” said Granny. “Built up seating, with a spacious place for the king and queen at the front. But this is not a parade, it’s a very serious arrangement, and there won’t be any waving of the lady’s favours or throwing flowers to the winner.”

  “So we gotta stand?” asked John.

  “Only three bouts,” Bayldon reminded him. “It won’t take as long as it did in the past. I think you’ll manage to stay on your two feet.”

  “On me ten toes,” grinned John.

  “But there’s a few seats,” Sherdam pointed out. “Enough for twenty or so on each side if we all squash up. Them on one side. Us on the other.”

  The field itself was flat grass. It would soon be worn by llama hooves, and be a threadbare and mottled area of grass, but to start off it looked comfortably thick for anyone falling off his llama’s back. The lists themselves, solid wooden barriers built along the middle of the field, were fairly low, since llamas were not all magnificently tall beasts, but high enough for the purpose. They were painted with magic signs on both sides of the wood.

  “Protection,” said Zakmeister. “They keep the whole field safe from magical tampering or tricks or traps.”

  “Very pretty,” said Poppy, who had no idea what magic signs meant.

  “You may not remember,” Granny said, “in the past I have decorated cakes with these same magical signs and patterns. They are highly protective to those who eat any part.” She paused suddenly and smiled. “Not that I expect you to eat a few splinters of these wooden barriers. However, these are the greatest magical signs of protection that exist.”

  “And I bet there’s others that don’t mean protection at all,” muttered Poppy. “I bet there’s plenty of black magic signs too. I’ll have to learn the difference.”

  Henry VIII was busy tapping anything he could find, playing the knowledgeable jouster who would test the strength of the ground.

  Beyond the field, the lists, the seats and the surrounding space, there had been several large tents set up. Six were for the knights who would fight. Others had stores of arms, a small smithy, and one for other supplies.

  “Dinner time,” said Granny. “We collect Ninester, Irima, Ferdinand and Sorazuma, and off we go to Peganda for a very special meal at the Speckled Hiccup Hotel, and then stay the night in their luxury rooms. The next morning, it will be back here to make sure our spells have worked and there’s been no tampering with our work, and by then all the Epilogs should have turned up. They agreed to come straight over to build up a force ready for battle. The wizards won’t see them, so they should be safe from all those wretched past Hazletts who used to throw Epilogs to the crocodiles. We can make up some more camps, and camp out up on that hilltop overlooking the field.”

  Poppy, Nathan and John clapped. “Sounds like fun to me,” said Nathan. “I like camping. I like hotels. I like fantastic meals. And I like the Epilogs.”

  “What I won’t like is the tournament,” sighed Poppy. “I’ll be so horribly frightened that the wrong side will win. If Henry V is killed, I’d be so terribly sorry. But if Zak loses, oh that would be terrible. I’d cry and cry until I was sick.”

  “It might be better,” decided her mother cautiously, “if you don’t watch, my dear.”

  “Of course our side will win,” said Nathan. “We’re the best. We can’t lose.” He looked up at his mother. “Can I use the Knife of Clarr?”

  Messina shook her head, “Certainly not, Nathan. That would be cheating. Besides, we have put so many protective spells over this whole field, there’s no way anybody can use even the tiniest bit of magic. It is a fight of nerves and courage and skill – not of magic.”

  “The trial of magic,” Granny murmured as she walked past, “comes later.”

  There was great enjoyment over the next few days with special meals, nights in hotels, whizzing back home for meetings, and then whizzing off elsewhere. There were parties with the Epilogs, which really amazed Arthur as John said, “Look, Dad, here’s Younger Willow. Tis a proper great friend o’ mine.” And stretched out his hand to what seemed like empty air.

  The day of the tournament dawned dull and cold, but as the pale grey clouds and sullen colours parted over the hills, so a ray of bright sunshine beamed out, and the countryside turned bright and golden. The clouds blew away, the sky gleamed blue as though recently washed, and the wind changed to a light breeze along the valleys.

  The llamas were restless in their pens, and the grooms tried to calm them, bring out the saddles and bridles, feeding the animals and speaking softly to them. There was the rhythmic sound of the spinning wheel and the sharpening of weapons, the tramping of feet, the calling of men to check on what was ready, and the faint flap of tents in the breeze.

  Everybody had started to arrive. First the Epilogs, quite unseen to most, began to group behind the seats on the Octobr side. Some of the elders sat on one of the benches, but most stood grinning, and cheering their friends with a wave of delight, but without any sound.

  Granny, Messina, Sherdam, Tryppa, Richard III, Jassle from her home in Peganda, and their old friends Umbod, Ventos and Kalland all arrived and grouped together on the Octobr benches. Nathan, Poppy, Alfie, Alice, John, Peter with his lute tucked under his arm and Sam with his silver hair shining in the sunlight, all came running in, sitting very tight together. “If anything goes wrong,” whispered Poppy, “I’m leaving.”

  “Then you’d better sit at the end of the bench,” said Nathan.

  “And me,” said Alice, hurrying to sit next to Poppy instead of next to her new husband.

  Grinning, Alfie waved at her. “Take an Octobr flag with you and wave it up high.”

  The flag was a new design, based on the banners of old England. Richard III and Bayldon had designed it between them, Messina had magicked up a hundred in bright colours on huge flags, and everyone took one to wave when the time came.

  Zakmeister was not present as he was to be one of the jousters, and he was in full armour, resting in one of the tents. Bayldon was with him, helping him buckle up his helm and baldric. His helm, also new, was grandly adorned with the great eagle feathers pinched from Nathan’s headband. Henry VIII and Henry V also sat in their tents, with Ferdinand and Ninester acting as squires.

  “I may not be a proper warrior,” sniffed Ninester, “but I was taught all the proper things when I was little. I’m good at putting on armour, as long as it’s on someone else.”

  Richard III, although a mighty warrior of his time, had never engaged in jousting as he had a great problem w
ith his right shoulder, which made many things painful or impossible.

  Henry VIII, on the other hand, was eagerly joyful and bounced up and down as Ferdinand helped dress him. “Well, your majesty,” Ferdinand murmured politely, “you are first to fight. I shall await the news of your success right here.”

  “Yes, naturally,” said Henry with a faint burp. “It won’t take me long to throw the other man from his horse. I mean llama. I shall come straight back here afterwards to get this hot armour off.”

  Many others from the surrounding villages, and those who had travelled up from Peganda were all crowding around and there was soon such a bustle and shove that no one could see over each other’s heads. But the cheering continued, and they all waved flags.

  The Hazletts arrived in silence. Clebbster sat on the grand throne he had used in the Pickles house, and this was carried in by eight strong men from Peganda. One was Hambrick, looking very pleased with himself. The entire group of Hazlett emperors followed, except for Krillester and Deben, who had disappeared, although Clebbster did not understand how. Each wizard was accompanied by two of their own squires they had called from the past. Many of these were great handsome men with gleaming black skin, muscular and tall. One looked very like Zakmeister and he was peeping from the flap of his tent, wondering if any of these warriors and squires from the past were his relations.

  They sat quietly, all of them on the benches with their squires standing behind, and their swords and battle-axes laid out across their knees. Their silence continued until Clebbster rose, supported by his peacock cane, and by someone standing behind him.

  Poppy stared. The one standing behind Clebbster was either Wagster or Brewster, and she was very much afraid that it was Brewster.

  “At least there’s no stars,” whispered Messina.

  “Let the games begin,” roared Clebbster, and sat down again in a slight collapse.

  Two men rode proudly out from the camp of tents and supplies. The largest was Henry VIII, wearing the most ornate armour of silver, heavily decorated. His helm, with the eagle feathers blowing in the breeze, was huge, and even his silver metal gloves were scrolled with engraved designs.

  He lowered the visor of his helm and cantered out towards midfield and the lists.

  With the visor closed, and the man covered in armour which hid every last detail of his body, no one on the Octobr side had any idea who this adversary was. Not Krillester, who had been one of the first to volunteer, for he was gone. But the man, riding out, lance in hand, to face his opponent on the opposite end and opposite side at the lists, announced himself.

  “I, Urrester, son of Jallister, challenge you to fight me with lance, with sword and with axe.” Even within his armour, this tall man showed the signs of the Quoster. His fingers, although hidden within the jointed metal protection, were unusually long, his arms were far longer than most men’s and his legs were longer still. He rode an exceptionally tall llama, which kicked and spat, eager to fight. It was coated in thick dark brown wool with a crooked black smile. The saddle was scarlet leather and the bridle was hung with tiny bells. On the llama’s high forehead was fixed a false horn, long and curved, which Henry VIII thought was a cheat.

  Henry had no experience with llamas and although Bayldon had given him several lessons, and some aspects were similar to riding a horse, he did not feel entirely confident. The thick wool, however, was snug beneath him. He rode forwards to meet the other man, and introduced himself.

  “I, King Henry of England, Wales, Cornwall and Normandy, warrior of my world and this world, Lord of the highlands and the islands, I challenge you to single combat with axe, sword and lance, until the first to fall is pronounced the loser.”

  “Or,” said the other man suddenly, “one shall die.”

  Henry had no idea how to answer. Well, after all, people did die at tournaments even though it wasn’t supposed to happen. A shame, but couldn’t be avoided. He, however, had no intention of getting himself killed.

  After the first few slow and sedate steps, Henry spurred his llama to a full gallop, and the other man did the same they met in the centre of the barrier although on opposite sides, with a mighty clash of lances. The long iron spikes thudded into each man, and both toppled but did not fall. They passed, and rose on to the end, turning immediately, and once again galloped towards each other. The crash was even greater. The llama’s hooves thundered even though they trod grass and not stone, and both animals spat as they passed.

  Henry leaned forwards. But the other man’s arms were longer, and his lance hit home first. Henry rocked in the saddle, felt himself falling, but hung on. They cantered to the end, crossed the barrier and turned.

  Now both sides were cheering. Flags blew, people stood to clap, then sank down again, but called the name of the man they supported. On the Octobr side were several hundred supporters, including the Epilogs, but those supporting the Hazletts, although far, far fewer, were shouting, swearing and stamping their feet, making enough noise to drown out the others.

  Henry galloped full tilt against Urrester and when he saw the point of the lance flashing towards his neck, he ducked, bringing his own lance in a side sweep which caught the other man unawares. Henry had done this often. It was a fair blow and Henry was well practised, but Urrester had less experience, and fought without imagination. He fell with a screech, and his helm tumbled beneath the llama’s hooves. His head almost touched grass, but he hung to the bottom of the saddle and eventually regained the stirrups.

  No fall was recorded. Each man cantered off to change his weapon.

  They returned with their swords, but Urrester no longer had his head protected. His black greasy hair was loose, and the scars already on his face were prominent.

  This time the clash was of swords, and they fought, hand to hand, there in the middle of the lists. Henry was once again the most experienced. As the llamas circled, twisting and hissing, so both men swung out and duelled with great strength. Henry ducked again and brought up the point of his blade towards Urrester’s chin. The cut was deep and bleeding, but he slammed his own sword against Henry’s heavy armour with a smash that made no dent. Henry retaliated and Urrester dropped his sword.

  Henry had won in the first two bouts. He prepared for the third, and took up his battle axe. It was not a weapon he had ever used before. Richard III, who had used such a weapon often, stood and shouted two directions. “Use the edge first, and then the weight.”

  And Henry did exactly that. Urrster fell from his llama with a roar of fury, and lay concussed on the grass as his mount cantered off with a toss of soft brown wool.

  Clebbster conceded. He said nothing, but he faced Messina and bowed his head briefly.

  There was a long pause. Urrester was dragged from the field, and the next two men finished preparing before they entered the field and introduced themselves.

  Meanwhile Henry VIII jumped one of the benches, accepted the cheers of his supporters, kissed Messina and Richard III on both cheeks, and then went strutting off to his tent to change.

  “I, Henry of England, Wales, Cornwall and France,” said Henry V, “hereby challenge you to single combat with pike, sword and fists. The first to fall will be considered the loser.”

  “I, Fester Hazlett, eldest son of Lester Hazlett, do accept the challenge in three bouts. The loser shall be the first to fall, or the one who loses his life.”

  Henry’s llama was long-legged and white furred, with a temper as bad as Henry VIII’s. It spat at everyone, snarled like a tiger, and kicked with both back legs at once. Henry adored him.

  Fester was one of the original Hazletts and had no strange arms, fingers or legs. He was muscular and belligerent, and galloped forwards before Henry had even taken his pike beneath his arm. Both men rushed at each other, and both men swung to the side to avoid the oncoming points. Unhurt, they both turned, reclasped their pikes beneath the other arm, and raced back to the centre of the lists, each on the other side of the barrier.
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  The second clash brought exactly the same result, but on the third, Fester swung his pike as Henry VIII had done with his lance, and Henry was almost knocked from his saddle. His llama kicked out, but bruised only the central wooden fence. Henry, breathless, cantered off to exchange his pike for a sword.

  The first assault had been won by the Hazletts.

  Fester snatched up his sword from his waiting squire and galloped back to the lists. As they approached, he called out something that Henry did not understand, and suddenly froze, as though struck by something unseen. The llama, complaining about the sudden silent halt, tossed him. Fester seemed paralysed and could not even hang on to the reins. As his llama complained, he hurtled over the llama’s head and fell unconscious, flat on his back on the grass. He was unhurt except for a purple bruise across his face, yet Henry V had not touched him at all.

  Henry dismounted and stood staring. He was declared the victor but still stood puzzled. Then, acknowledging the cheers of his supporters, he stumbled over to Granny, mumbling, “What happened?”

  “I believe he attempted to curse you,” replied Granny with a smug smile. “But with twenty of my protective spells painted on the lists, he brought his own punishment. Cheating is most unwise when there is magic against it.”

  But from the opposite benches, Clebbster rose, although tottering and balanced only by his cane and his son. “You cursed my knight, old witch,” he cried, pointing his abnormally long magical finger at Messina. “Fester Hazlett is a great warrior and would never have lost had you not cheated.”

  “The opposite is true,” Messina called back calmly. “Fester called Almagatron which is the death curse if repeated both backwards and forwards, as he did. It was your false knight who cheated and was immediately punished by my protective spells, which you can clearly see on the wooden posts and the entire length of the lists. Clearly your foolish ancestor considered his magic stronger than mine. But he was mistaken and suffered for it. Those bruises will never fade, but he’ll recover and stagger to his bed later today.”