“Cleope,” said Noel savagely, “there’s more at stake here than a broken arm or leg. Is Theodore coming?”
“No. Frederick’s messenger says they have turned back. Lord Theodore refuses to leave my lady’s side. He is a good man, a true-”
“He’s a romantic idiot,” said Noel, then saw the shock on Cleope’s face and relented. “All right. He’s very noble, I’m sure. But he’s needed here. He must challenge Sir Magnin and win today or-”
“Well, if a stupid joust is all you can think about at a time like this-”
“For God’s sake, woman! I am trying to…” Noel found himself suddenly short of breath. He blinked and passed his hand across his face.
‘Too much excitement,“ she said. ”Now will you listen to reason and rest?“
“No,” said Noel. “Where does Frederick think he is going? I need him here until we have finished this. Stop him, Cleope. Tell him to come back.”
She looked doubtful. “Will you lie down until I return?”
He sent her a wan smile. “I promise.”
“Then I shall go.”
“One other thing.”
“Yes?”
“You must make a potion for me. Something powerful that will give me energy and mask the pain.”
She started to protest, but he gripped her hand.
“Please,” he said. “It’s important.”
“It’s foolish! My remedies are not for misuse.”
“In times of emergency the rules change.”
She frowned, horrified. “That is blasphemy. We must live according to the order we are taught by church and state.”
“It’s expediency. Look, we’ll settle this in a few minutes. Just go after Frederick before he leaves. I can’t do this without his help.”
“What is it that you have in mind?” she asked suspiciously. “What is it that you plan to do?”
“I’ll tell you when Frederick gets here.”
She continued to frown at him while he adjusted the blanket and laid down. He was thirsty again. The sun hurt his eyes. He wanted to sleep for a hundred years. When she still stood rooted in place, however, he lifted his head.
“Cleope, go! Don’t let him leave. Tell him anything. Tell him I am worse and calling for him. Do anything, say anything, but bring him back with you.”
She took one step away and glanced back. Her brow was knotted with worry. “Whatever you are planning, it will get you killed.”
She was right, but he wasn’t going to let himself think about how crazy and desperate his plan was.
“That’s my problem,” he said impatiently. “Go!”
Shaking her head, Cleope hurried from the garden and vanished from sight into the house.
CHAPTER 15
If chain mail was this heavy, Noel wondered how men could endure wearing the suits of massive plate armor that would come into vogue within the next few decades. The clinging drape of the finely linked chains irritated him. He found the shirt too long and the leggings too short. The latter were held up by a pair of primitive garters that made him feel he might lose them at any moment. When Frederick pulled the mail mittens over his hands, Noel felt completely helpless, like a four-year-old bundled into a snowsuit.
“How can I hold a weapon without my fingers free?” he asked.
Frederick knelt to fasten the steel greaves to his shins and did not answer.
The argument was long since over, and although Noel had won it, Frederick still disapproved.
“It’s wrong,” he muttered, fastening the other greave. His words were muffled against Noel’s leg as he fitted on a pair of knee cops.
“What’s wrong?”
“You know.”
A sullen Frederick was less than desirable company. Noel was having enough trouble with his own flagging courage without having to boost Frederick’s morale.
“Stop sulking,” said Noel. “We’ve settled this already.”
“You should not compete. You are not a knight, and it is wrong to pretend. Deceit is the first step toward damnation. Even if you win, it will invalidate the-”
“I can’t worry about that now,” said Noel. He reached for the collar.
Frederick sprang up. “The breastplate first. Just wait for me to do it.”
He buckled on the front and back halves of the steel corselet. Noel felt pressure on his wounded shoulder and sucked in his breath sharply.
‘Too tight?“ asked Frederick.
“Yes.”
“I told you this would not work. The plate has to be snug or a lance can catch it and rip it from your body. Why will you not let me-”
“No,” said Noel. “You can’t participate-”
“I know more about fighting than you!” said Frederick hotly. “I shall probably be knighted by Michaelmas.”
“Fine. In the meantime, no glory for you. Don’t argue, Frederick. It’s not to be, and that’s final. I can’t explain.”
Frederick hesitated, then lifted the collar bearing Theodore’s coat of arms-hastily painted by the armorer at Sir Olin’s castle. Everything was borrowed piecemeal since Theodore’s own resplendent armor had been lost in the initial ambush. Noel didn’t like his colors of yellow and black. He felt like a bumblebee once he put on the long surcoat. The ends flapping about his ankles made him feel ridiculous. Frederick snapped the helmet to the chain on the breastplate and knelt to buckle spurs on Noel’s feet.
Next on went the mail coif. It covered Noel’s chin to the lips and the edges scratched his cheeks. He wondered how the others could stand to wear these things all the time. His head itched and while he was rubbing it through the links, Frederick buckled on his sword.
Noel practiced grabbing the hilt a few times in his mittens. They were clumsy all right. With these things on he might well drop his sword.
“How do I look?” he asked. “You have three choices for an answer: class A dork, class B dork, or the pride of Camelot.”
“I understand you not, but verily you look frightened.” Frederick’s gaze met his earnestly. “Are you certain you will not have a priest’s blessing? To go into combat unshriven is tempting fate.”
Exasperating though it might be, the boy’s concern was genuine and well intentioned. Noel smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “No, thank you.”
“Noel?”
“Yes?”
“Father says that when everything goes amiss it is time to pause and reevaluate the situation. He says if God is against you, then stop and either abandon your purpose or go at it differently.”
Noel wished he could follow that advice. Even if he got very lucky and didn’t drop his sword, his borrowed war-horse didn’t run away with him, and he found he had a natural aptitude for lances, he hadn’t much of a prayer against Sir Magnin’s skill and experience.
“Sir Olin is a wise man,” Noel said. “If I’m defeated by circumstances, that’s one thing. But if I quit now, before I’ve done all that I can, then I’ve defeated myself. I can’t.”
Frederick nodded. “No one can doubt your courage.”
“Just my sanity, right?” Noel grinned.
Frederick smiled back. “I do not wish to unman you by saying this, but you are truly mad.”
Noel pretended the hollowness inside him was nothing to worry about. “Time to go.”
“Noel?”
This time he let his impatience show as he glanced back. “Yes?”
“I sent word to Father. He should know about this.”
Noel shook his head. “You think he’ll come? There’s no point now. By the time they get here, it will be over one way or the other. Come on. I’m not going to miss this.”
Before he went outside, Noel put on the helmet and lowered his visor, ft cut off most of his vision and some of his hearing. It was incredibly hot and once he had a good dose of sunshine warming it, he would be a prime candidate for roasted skull.
Whatever drug Cleope had given him was working. Its taste was so foul, he almost couldn’t swallow it, but now he felt pleasantly numb. If the sky tended to become a weird shade of pink at the edges and if sometimes his arms and legs seemed to float away… well, so what? He would pay the consequences later. Right now, the trip was worth the ticket.