Harrowing Hats (9 page)

“I heard there was a murder. One of those chocolate men. I never liked their costumes. Too flashy. I heard one of his brothers might’ve killed him.”

“Really? Which one?”

“I don’t know. I can’t tell them apart. Daisy says it’s because I’m allergic to chocolate or I’d remember them like she does.”

I laughed at that. Daisy Reynolds, sword maker, thought all the men in the Village were hot. But at least for now, Bart seemed to be her main man. “Did you hear why one of his brothers supposedly killed him?” I thought I might as well get the scoop from everyone. You never knew where the truth might lie.

“The new fortune-teller next to Wicked Weaves told me Phil from the Sword Spotte told her he saw Cesar and the tart lady arguing by the Swan Swing one night. He told her she had to give back some expensive jewelry she got, and she told him she’d see him dead first. The brothers argued over everything. It makes sense one of them gave her the jewelry.”

“Jewelry, huh? And now everyone thinks it was from one of the brothers.” I nodded. It made Village sense and probably hit the grapevine like the madmen in the Village hit their spoons on their pots to get attention.

“That’s what I heard. But, then again, I heard she got the jewelry from one of the new knights.”

Could the Knights Templar be involved in this? If this were one of those crime-solving TV shows, I’d say yes. The knights had been quick to come up and see what was happening after we found Cesar. And murderers always returned to the scene of the crime.

“What makes you say that about the knights?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Everyone is blaming them for everything else. And they are a little annoying, don’t you think? Hey, look! There are the mermaids!”

T
he mermaids were in their newly constructed, concrete lagoon. They reminded me of the mermaids in the old Peter Pan movie. The concrete wasn’t so noticeable, since it was formed into rocks and shapes around the clear, blue water. It was pretty impressive.

They probably had the best job in the Village, at least during the summer, since they went in and out of the water all day. I wasn’t sure if that attraction could hold up to colder breezes in December.

But for now, they basked on the rocks and put flowers in their hair while visitors snapped pictures. They wore shiny bikini tops and had long green and blue fish tails that were probably uncomfortable. I watched them flick their tails a few times for effect, singing pretty little songs that were supposed to lure visitors the way sailors had believed, once upon a time, that mermaids could lure them to their deaths.

The lagoon was carved from a piece of Mirror Lake, where the pirate ship used to dock. It was dammed up from the rest of the water—little, sparkling waterfalls surrounding it.

It was a placid little area of make-believe—like the rest of the Village—until lightning struck too close for comfort, sending all five mermaids screeching into the water. Obviously not the brightest of creatures.

“We’d better hurry,” I urged Bart. He was too big to run but he could kind of throw himself headlong in the direction he wanted to go. “Looks like a bad one rolling in for the night.”

“And I’m like a human lightning rod with my sword. At least all you have is a hat.”

“A hat that will be ruined if it gets wet!” I started running toward the castle. Bart lumbered behind me.

The rain started falling with hard, angry drops as we sprinted (at least I sprinted) past the Hanging Tree and the Lady of the Lake Tavern. Thunder shook the ground as the pirates on the
Queen’s Revenge
scurried to take in her sails.

That got me thinking about Crystal, the pirate queen, wondering if she was back yet. I was going to have to figure out some way to urge Chase into the Templar Knights’ encampment in case she needed help. Maybe Bart would go, too, in case Chase needed him. They could also ask around to see if any of the knights had given Eloise the jewelry Cesar was so jealous of. My money was still on Eloise as the killer, but I’ve been known to be wrong.

I’d definitely have to go out with them since I needed to see what was going on in the encampment, too. It was intriguing—so many women lured into the forest. I wasn’t worried about the knights’ effect on me since I figured I was immune. There couldn’t be a knight out there who could match Chase Manhattan.

Breathing hard, Bart and I made it into the castle without too much damage to ourselves or the packages we carried. Master at Arms Gus Fletcher greeted us from his usual spot in the entryway. He was a former professional wrestler (still only half the size of Bart) who liked to pinch ladies’ butts as they walked past him. I was careful to maneuver through the doorway keeping Bart between me and Gus.

“Hey, Lady Jessie.” Gus grinned and nodded to me. “Where’s your fella? If you’re looking for someone to keep you company on this rainy day, you know where to find me.”

Bart stopped walking and looked down at Gus like he was a small child. “It’s not very nice to flirt with other people’s ladies. You should be careful that some man doesn’t punch you in the nose.”

Gus laughed a little, but he also backed away from Bart. That made
me
laugh. Not many people wanted to argue with a giant.

We headed into the castle through the keep, which contained the Great Hall where the King’s Feast is held every Sunday evening. The hall was big enough to seat a few hundred visitors above the jousting arena where most of the entertainment took place. I say most of the entertainment because so much went on with the Royal Court at the other end. It was just more subtle, and you had to know the players.

There were fake weapons and coats of arms decorating the stone walls. Imitation wall hangings were bright and colorful for the thousands of visitors who walked through here each day.

But the residential side of the castle was filled with the good stuff. Livy and Harry had brought in hundreds of antiques and other treasures to make their castle fit for the royalty they were. Visitors never entered this part of the castle, unless they were special guests. If they were such nobility, they stayed in luxurious suites with Renaissance flair—and indoor plumbing.

From the moment we passed into the residential quarters, Bart and I could hear the weeping and moaning of Queen Olivia in her royal chambers.

“I don’t think we should go in there,” he said as we stood outside the closed door to her personal suite. “I think an animal must have got loose in there. Or a ghost. Either way, not good news for mortals like us.”

“I don’t have much choice. I have to give her this hat and make sure it fits okay.” I smiled and patted his shoulder. “Lucky you, all you have to do is find the king.”

“What makes you think he isn’t in there with her?”

I laughed. “I worked here one summer. The king disappears when the queen goes into her fits.”

“But what about her being pregnant? She shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.”

One bad thing about sneaking around with Bart—he didn’t sneak. And he had a loud, booming voice that could be heard across a jousting field when he whispered. The next thing we knew, Queen Olivia had jerked open the door to her chambers and was ready to confront us.

Her eyes were red and puffy. Redheads (even those who used to be redheads and had to frequently visit the royal hairdresser to maintain those titian-esque locks) should never cry. They look even worse than blonds.

“What are you doing sneaking around out here? Are you gossiping about me being pregnant? It’s a lie! If I were a real queen, I’d have that evil nurse’s head on a pike outside the castle for telling such a falsehood.”

I glanced at Bart. He made a hasty retreat down the long, stone hall, muttering about finding the king as he went. I dropped the queen a low, formal curtsy. “I am so sorry to bother you, Your Majesty. But Andre needs to make sure this hat will fit you.”

She waved me into her chamber, blowing her nose loudly in a handkerchief. “What does it matter? None of my clothes will fit soon. I’ll be a large whale of a queen who no one will want to see. Maybe Andre can make a hat big enough to fit over my whole body.”

Olivia isn’t exactly a tiny figure of a woman anyway. I didn’t say it, but it was possible no one would even notice she was pregnant, especially in the right Renaissance clothes. “Perhaps the evil nurse”—I was certainly willing to agree with her on that point—“has made a mistake.”

The queen flounced down on her red velvet sofa. It was then that I noticed all the modern-day pregnancy tests that surrounded her. I wasn’t sure what they used in the Renaissance for this purpose, but in this case, all the tests seemed to be positive.

“Whatever will I do, Lady Jessie? The king will no longer love me or want to be with me when he learns I am with child.”

I longed, nay,
yearned
to ask the question,
Is the baby Harry’s?
But I didn’t let the words come out of my mouth. “I’m sure Your Majesty will find the king pleased that he will be a father.”

She batted her long eyelashes at me, black smears of mascara running down her pink face. “Do you really think so? We are both a little old to have children. I never even thought about it.”

I guessed she was in her forties, probably. Harry, a few years older. It wasn’t insane to think they could have a child. But I approached the idea from a different angle. “It would be wonderful for the Village. Imagine the birth of a new prince or princess. Imagine the extra events visitors could attend in conjunction with this blessed event.”

Queen Olivia seemed to give that some thought. Before she could speak, however, King Harold himself burst into her chambers, his royal robes flowing around him. “Is it true, Livy? Are you really going to be a mother?”

I glanced toward the open doorway. Bart waved his fingers at me a little with a look on his face that told me how the king had found out about the baby.

“Yes, Harry. It seems I’m going to have a baby.” She smiled at him through her tears in such a gentle, loving way. I’d never seen her look like that before.

King Harold stroked his chin and said, “Who’s the father, my dear?”

Enraged, Livy got to her feet and began throwing test kits, fruit, and anything else her hand came upon at her husband. “How dare you? I can’t believe you’d ask me that at a time like this! You pompous, ignorant, self-righteous man! Get out of here. Don’t ever come back.”

Harry beat a hasty retreat from the queen’s chambers. Despite feeling in charity with Livy, I was glad he asked the question the whole Village would be asking. I wasn’t sure if her anger was an answer. In truth, she might not even know who the father was herself.

I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her as she stood there crying. She could be a miserable person to get along with since she seemed to really believe she was the queen of Renaissance Village and all that it implied. But right now she was a human being in pain. I went to her and hugged her close.

“He hates me,” she sobbed into my bosom since she was too short to reach my shoulder. “He’ll never believe it’s his baby.”

“You’ll have to prove it to him,” I counseled. “There are tests you can take.”

“I won’t. Either he believes me or he doesn’t. My baby and I will live without him if we have to.”

I hated to ask but I really needed her to try on Andre’s hat. “If I could trouble Your Majesty to let me measure this hat for you. The hatmaker is waiting for me.”

“Of course.” She sniffed and raised her chin, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands like a child. “Life goes on, does it not? Let us try on this hat.”

T
he hat was a perfect fit, and after a few more words of encouragement, I left it with Livy and headed out of the castle. It looked like Bart had left before me. I didn’t blame him for going back to Swords and Such—and Daisy. Seeing Livy and Harry arguing over their child made me want to find Chase and hug him.