Page 64 of Snapdragons
Aldric stepped away from the grain bag.
“Did I mention that my likelihood of death decreases significantly if I work very hard in the time I have left before the fair?” Niles watched his friend, unsure what strategy the General could possibly have in mind that involved halting the exercisesprematurely.
“I wasn’t going to suggest you give up,” Aldric said. “I just thought it would be a good idea for you to practice swinging at something that’s moving.”
“And that something would be you?” Niles grinned. “I may not be Martin’s equal, but I did win a decisive victory against Will Ward.”
“I was there for that fight, Niles,” Aldric said. “Absolutely brilliant. You were also young and spry then, not the aged Puppy you are now.”
“I’m barely older than you are.”
“But still, youareolder.” After tossing him a pitying look, Aldric grabbed two small horsehair cushions Digby had managed to procure. Knowing a good valet needed to be skilled with a needle and thread, Digby had talked Wilson through the logistics of sewing strips along the back that hands could be slipped under, allowing the one holding the cushions to do so with palms extended.
“Jab at the one I hold up,” Aldric instructed.
It was one of Niles’s favorite exercises, focused as it was on improving his speed and dexterity. He was not large, and though he felt he could land a fearsome blow, he was also well aware that he hadn’t the bone-crunching power of fighters such as Humphries and Johnson. But Niles was quick, and that had seen him emerge the champion in what ought to have been easy victories for his opponents. He needed to make certain that aspect of his methodology was polished to a shine.
While holding cushions for Niles to hit, Aldric took up the topic Niles thought had been abandoned. “So, during this hug you were inflicting on Penelope—”
“Surelyinflictingis not the right word.” Niles was nearly certain the General was joking.
“She seemed to welcome the embrace, then?”
Niles jabbed at a cushion. “She was sobbing at the time, so it is a little”—he jabbed again—“difficult to say.”
“Was she sobbing because you were hugging her, or were you hugging her because she was sobbing?”
“The latter.” Another jab. “But also because I really, really wanted to.”
“And she didn’t object?” It did Niles’s pride a great deal of good that Aldric didn’t seem to believe Penelope had been repulsed by the embrace.
“I think she felt better afterward.” Sensing he’d just opened himself up to a bit of Gents-style teasing, he quickly added, “And during.”
Kes, Lucas, and Henri came bounding into the outbuilding in the very next instant.
“The talk at the Green Badger is focused exclusively on the tournament.” Lucas gave Niles a shove as he passed, then mimed punching him a few times. “Word has spread that the Cornish Duke will be fighting for the first time in years.” They all gave Niles a knowing look. “And the innkeeper has confirmed that the Bath Butcherwillbe fighting.”
Sam Martin, the Bath Butcher. The man was a legend, though not an undefeated one. However, he also hadn’t gone as long without fighting competitively as Niles had.
“My best hope,” Niles said, “is that if Martin does join, he and I won’t meet until the final match. Second place comes with prize money. Being knocked out of the tournament early does not.”
A look passed between the three new arrivals. There was more they hadn’t told him.
“What is it?” Aldric had clearly seen the unspoken exchange as well.
Kes spoke for them all. “With word that both the Duke and the Butcher are vying for the purse, all the other fighters have withdrawn. It’s not to be a tournament any longer but a singlefight.”
“And the purse has been increased,” Henri said. “It is now £200 for the victor, £100 for the one he pummels.”
Niles nodded. “I can endure a pummeling for £100. It would be enough that I could try to negotiate to buy the property I’ve had my eyes on.”
Aldric studied him. “Why are you so certain you won’t win?”
“I’ve seen Martin fight. He wasn’t felled by blows far more forceful than I am able to deliver. And he blocks blows very efficiently. Not to mention he’s bigger than I am.”
“Humphries is smaller than Mendoza,” Lucas said, “but he was the victor in their last bout.”
That wasn’t the reassuring argument Lucas seemed to think it was. “I have a chance of not being killed by Martin; Humphries would annihilate me.”
