Blood Exposed Read online

  As the horses exited and the music faded, the audience settled back into their seats. I was about to ask Caleb what would happen next when the air was shattered by a trumpet blast and the costumed pageboy from the previous night led in Ngaire and Gerald, in full regalia and complete with deerhound. The pageboy stood to one side, blowing his trumpet fanfare, as Lady Justinia and Harald Redbeard walked sedately to their place of honour in part of the seating that had been set up as a royal box, complete with a gazebo to fend off the summer sun. Rachel was already sitting beside the fake thrones, but the seats on the other side of the thrones were empty. Rhys’s wife, Donna, was climbing up the tiers of seats to join her children who were jumping around excitedly in the top row. She wasn’t in costume, just track pants and an over-sized wind jacket, and I wondered if she chose not to sit with the official party or whether she had been banished because of her rowdy children.

  “Rhys and Abigail should be up there,” Anita said. “The royal box looks empty without them.”

  “Rhys is probably busy helping the contestants get ready,” Caleb said, shrugging it off as unimportant. “And Abigail’s probably running late, as usual.”

  The first fighters onto the field were not on horseback. Two men in heavy tunics of leather and wool walked beside two knights in cumbersome armour covered with colourful tunics, who clanked their way into the arena and stopped in front of Ngaire and Gerald. Their metal helmets and chest protectors hindered their attempts to bow, making them look like life-size Transformer robots but the crowd roared its approval as Ngaire waved a silk handkerchief to acknowledge their gesture.

  As the handkerchief fell, the squires, as Caleb explained to us, stepped back. A third man, in a bright yellow quilted jerkin and orange tights, stepped between the knights and held up an orange flag. The knights drew their swords, the jester dropped his flag, and the fight began. It was far more brutal than I expected. I knew the re-enactors took their sport seriously but I held my breath, hoping that the huge swords really were blunt on the edges, as the knights hacked and slashed at each other, driving first one, then the other, back and forth across the arena. Several times the jester thrust his flag between them and the knights would stop to allow the jester to check if one or the other was all right, then their squires would tighten the knights’ helmets and they would launch at each other again. Then, all of a sudden, the flag was thrust between them and it was over. The jester walked the knights to the centre and, like a boxing match, raised the hand of the winner. I had no idea how they scored or why that knight had won, but I couldn’t wait for the next one to start.

  Several more hand-to-hand fights followed, sometimes with three or four knights all fighting each other at once. Most used large, heavy swords but some wielded battle axes or vicious-looking metal balls with spikes, swung on chains. I winced every time one of them took a nasty blow but Anita loved it, leaping from her seat and screaming encouragement, showing a side of Anita, collector of fluffy bunnies, that I had never seen before.

  When that segment of the entertainment ended, the knights all walked out to rousing applause from the crowd and bowed before Ngaire and Gerald who acknowledged them with extravagant royal hand gestures of approval. Accompanied by another trumpet fanfare from the pageboy, the knights clanked off and the first two horses entered for the jousting. Beside Ngaire and Gerald, Rachel waved a handkerchief to the knight in purple. Rhys had joined the royal box but the seat beside Rachel was still empty. Abigail was very late.

  The two horses lined up at opposite ends, and sides, of the centre wall, which Caleb told us was called a list. They stood for a few seconds, knights eyeing each other up, horses stamping the ground, then the knights flipped down the visors on their metal helmets to completely cover their faces and urged their horses into a gallop. As they charged forwards, the knights dropped the long lances they were carrying, pointing their sharp tips forward as the huge draught horses thundered towards each other. The purple knight thrust his lance forwards, jamming it into the blue knight’s chest armour with a resounding crack. The lance splintered, its tip falling to the ground as the blue knight rocked in his saddle, attempting not to do the same. The crowd shouted its delight.

  I thought that was the end but the two knights lined up again, their squires handing the knights new lances while others rescued the broken bits from the arena.

  “Haven’t they finished?” I asked Caleb.

  “No. They get three passes along the list, so Blue could still win.”

  “How do they decide who wins? Do they have to push each other off?”

  “Quite the opposite. They are not supposed to tip each other off. They get points for breaking their lance against the other one’s body or shield. Purple’s lance tip broke then, but he would have got more points if it had shattered. He gets fewer points if it hits the other guy but doesn’t break.”

  “Those lances look dangerous. Can’t they get badly hurt? What if goes right through their armour?”

  Caleb laughed. “I’ll take you to meet the knights later. Those lances are like your theatre props. They look real but, actually, the tip is made of polystyrene and the middle of the pole is cardboard. The only solid bit is the bottom and that’s usually plywood. So they are much safer than they look.”

  “Phew, that’s a relief. Oh look, they’re going again.”

  The huge horses raced towards each other for a second time and this time it was the blue knight who struck a glancing blow. I tried to work out if he had scored more points than the purple knight by counting the pieces of broken lance on the ground but I was guessing, and hoping, just because I liked the blue knight’s horse. I was sure it was the one I wanted to pat earlier in the day. On the third pass, they both seemed to hit each other. I waited for results, yelling “Blue, Blue” while everyone around me seemed to be yelling for purple, or calling out the knights’ names, which meant nothing to me as I didn’t know who was who. In spite of my enthusiasm, my favourite wasn’t the ultimate winner. In the royal seats, Ngaire waved her handkerchief in delight as the results were declared.

  After a short break, two more knights rode into the ring, one in true Canterbury colours of red and black, the other in green with a silver eagle. When their three runs had been completed, the purple knight retuned to face the villain of the evening – a knight all dressed in black armour and riding a pitch black horse. We booed as loud as the crowd around us but that didn’t stop him easily defeating the purple knight in all three passes.

  The sky was dimming to evening by the time the knights had each fought each other and the villainous Black Knight was declared the winner. In the arena, Ngaire and Gerald were standing in front of their thrones, preparing for the official end of the event, but Caleb tugged my arm, suggesting we should go and see the knights before we got caught in the crowd. We slid out of our seats only to be stopped by the security barriers from going straight towards the knights’ off-stage area. Instead, we had to walk along the back of the marquee, past the area where the horses were stabled, and make our way up the side of Rhys’s tent, which is where I tripped over a guy rope and landed on Abigail.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Nobody screamed. At first, Anita and Caleb were concerned about me and flustered around, helping me up and asking if I was hurt. I convinced them that I was fine, brushed myself off and aimed a light kick at the offending pile of material I had fallen into. My foot hit something hard and we realised what, or who, I had fallen over wasn’t just a discarded costume. That’s when I swore a few choice words I’m not supposed to use in public.

  “It’s Abigail,” I said, peering closer at her face in the dim light, just to be sure.

  “Is she unconscious?” Anita asked. “Should I call an ambulance?”

  I looked into the wide eyes staring blankly at nothing and let my gaze travel to where she was lying, jammed between the tent’s back wall and a couple of large storage crates.

  “I think it’s too late for that. Call the police.
Caleb, you need to get your parents here right now, and we need to keep everyone else away until the police get here.”

  “Is she dead?” Anita gasped.

  “Yep.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve seen a few dead bodies in the last few months, and I’ve helped Severn kill them,” wasn’t an appropriate answer, but it was the reason I hadn’t screamed or panicked. What I actually said was, “The sword sticking out of her might be a give-away.”

  Anita stepped a few paces back in horror but she still pulled her phone from some secret pocket of her velvet costume and dialled triple one. Caleb took off running to get help. I stood by the guy rope that I had tripped over, hoping that no-one would come past as I had no idea what I would say to stop them. I pulled my monk’s cowl forward over my head, as much for the feeling of security it gave me as for its warmth. Then I remembered the vampires. I hauled the hem of my robe up until I could reach underneath it to the pocket of my jeans, found my phone and dialled.

  “What’s up?” Severn answered. “I was just about to text you. We’ll be on our way back shortly.”

  “Go to the hotel and stay there. Don’t come over to the park.”

  “I wasn’t going to, but why? What’s happened?”

  “Abigail. She’s dead. I just fell over her body. Behind Rhys’s tent. There’s a bloody great sword sticking out of her stomach. Anita’s on the phone to the police and Caleb’s gone to find his parents. I’m going to be stuck here a while but you need to stay away.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I can come if you need me.”

  “No, I’m fine. It’s not like I haven’t seen an impaled body before. I’m kind of getting used to them. Once the police get here, you’ll only be in the road anyway. They are going to want to talk to all the people who are here, and you guys aren’t, so you’ll just complicate things. Just go to the hotel and help keep everything calm over there.”

  “Okay, you’re right. There’s nothing we can do and we’ll be more use at the hotel. But I’ll still text you as soon as we arrive, and you have to promise to text me if you want some support.”

  I tucked my phone back in my pocket just as a set of flashing lights indicated the police had arrived. An unmarked car pulled in behind the one with the fluorescent paint job and the disco lights and its two occupants joined the two uniformed figures walking towards us. Why was I not surprised that one of the figures striding through the evening gloom was my nemesis from Tasha’s death, Detective Inspector Ugly-Tie Pen-Tapper. I straightened my robe and waited for him to recognise me.

  He didn’t. In fact, he barely looked at me or Anita, focussing his attention on the only male in the group, Caleb, who had rejoined us as the police cars had pulled up.

  “We were going around the back to talk to the knights,” Caleb replied to Detective He’s-A-Boy-So-He’s-Smarter, who had demanded to know why he had been called out to an emergency by three teenagers. “Riley tripped over her.”

  “Well, technically, I tripped over the guy rope on the tent,” I said pedantically. “I landed on Abigail when I fell.”

  He looked at me strangely and I could tell my name was ringing a bell somewhere in the depths of his brain. I pushed my cowl back so he could see my face and pointed to Abigail’s body, hidden behind the tent.

  “She’s back here.”

  I got another hard, quizzical look as he pushed past me but any attempt he was making to remember why I was familiar was wiped away as soon as he saw Abigail, and the sword. Then he was all business, firing orders at the uniformed officers who herded us to the front of the tent and told us to stay put. Not that we were going anywhere.

  We stood in a huddle, watching the crowds leaving the park, most of them unaware of the police behind the large, brown tent. Those that noticed paused and craned their heads in curiosity, but the pressure of the people behind them, pushing towards the narrow gate, kept them moving.

  “I wonder if the killer has just walked calmly out the gate with everyone else,” I pondered to no-one in particular.

  “Yeah,” Caleb agreed. “I would have thought they would stop everyone leaving.”

  “It’ll be too late by the time they think of that. There’ll be nobody left,” Anita added.

  “Except us,” I said. “We’ll be stuck here for ages. Then, if Detective Annoying works like he did with Tasha, we’ll all be dragged down to the police station to make statements and we’ll be there all night.”

  “Nooo,” Anita cried. “We can’t. We’ve got to be at the dinner. We’re playing, remember?”

  She grabbed Caleb’s arm and gave him a pleading look but he just gave her a shrug that said he was as confused as she was. Looked like it was up to me to sort it out. I walked back up the side of the tent and got the attention of one of the police.

  “Excuse me.” I called out. The policewoman approached so I lowered my voice and carried on. “I know you guys have a lot to do here, and I know you’ll need to talk to us, but my two friends are needed over in the hotel. We’re part of the team running this event and these two are musicians. They’re scheduled to play as part of the entertainment over there tonight, so they need to get back.”

  The policewoman turned her head to ask, but Detective Finally-Remembered-Me was already walking my way.

  “Miss Lowe,” he said, making it sound like I was just the person he wanted to arrest. “Fancy meeting you here. Although, I suppose this is another theatrical event, so I shouldn’t be surprised. Were your parents acting in this tonight?”

  “No, they’re not here. Caleb’s parents are though. They’re on the committee. I’m just paid staff.”

  “Paid this time? You’ve moved up in the world?”

  “Yes I have. Finished school. Out in the workforce. Still tripping over dead bodies. Only literally this time. Look, if I stay here and answer your questions, can you let Caleb and Anita go back to the hotel? Like I said to your officer, they’re needed over there fairly soon to play music.”

  The detective did the thing that drove me nearly insane when he was questioning me after Tasha’s body was found. He pulled a pen from his pocket and started clicking the end. I fought the urge to rip it out of his hand while he clicked and clicked. I could almost hear his brain ticking over to the beat of the pen. Finally, just before I snatched it to jam it into his jugular vein, he nodded his head.

  “All right. As long as you stay here and they don’t leave the hotel until we’ve spoken to them.”

  I muttered a thanks then rushed back to tell Anita and Caleb they could go, only to find them arguing with Ngaire and Gerald who had finally arrived. Ngaire tried to push past me but I put my arm out to hold her back.

  “No. You guys all go back to the hotel. Don’t argue. I’ve struck a deal. I’m staying here but you need to keep everything as normal as possible over there. The show must go on, and all that. Just go, let Severn know I’m okay and carry on as if nothing has happened.”

  “What do we tell people?” Ngaire asked. “They will have seen the police cars.”

  “Tell them, oh I don’t know, tell them something was stolen, or vandalised, or just tell them it was a routine police check because it was a big public event. Make something up. Just go now, okay?”

  “They will notice Abigail is missing from the dinner.”

  “Rearrange the seating, Don’t leave an empty chair and, if anyone asks, say she had a prior engagement. Think like we do in theatre – fake it and keep going!”

  “Riley’s right, Mum,” Caleb said, taking Ngaire’s arm. “We’ve got a dinner and a soiree to run. The police will find us when they need to talk to us.”

  They walked away towards the lights of the hotel, leaving me in the darkening shadows of the park. I pulled my cowl back up over my head and stuffed my hands into my sleeves to stop myself from shivering, even though the air still held the last heat of the day. What was I supposed to do now? Stand and wait? I couldn’t even see anything from where I was
, so I took a few steps closer to the action, slowly so the police didn’t realise I had strayed from where I had been told to wait. In the light of the torch held by one of the officers, Abigail looked like Sleeping Beauty with her long hair cascading over her delicately embroidered gown. If you ignored the sword.

  But I didn’t ignore the sword. I stared at it, trying to think where I had seen the design on its hilt before.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  It was one of those annoying memories that you can’t quite pull to the front of your brain. I knew I had seen the design but, with all the medieval stuff I had seen over the past couple of days, I couldn’t remember exactly where I had seen it, and the more I tried to remember, the further away the memory sank until I gave up, folded my arms and stood there, like a statue, shivering. Finally, I saw the detective beckon the policewoman to him and give her some instructions, after which she approached me to suggest we find a seat so she could get my statement.