“This is what the locals call Dead Man’s Ditch,” Baltazar said. “I had the bridge built to connect pieces of my property. I made some modifications in anticipation of your visit.”
“You didn’t have to go through all the trouble,” Austin said.
“Not at all. Here’s my proposition. I will place my car with Miss Mechadi in it on the other side of the ditch.” He pointed to the grassy field across the gorge. “I will be in the middle, playing the role of the mythical dragon. We will joust for the favor of the fair lady.”
Austin turned and looked at the pair of SUVs that had followed them. “What about your goons?”
“I will instruct my men to stay on this side.”
“You will allow us to escape?”
“I will give you a sporting chance, which is more than you have now.”
“And if I decline your invitation?”
“I’ll have you thrown into the gorge before your lady’s horrified eyes.”
“I don’t see how I can pass up a generous offer like that, Baltazar.”
Baltazar grinned unpleasantly and gestured for Austin to get back into the car. They drove at breakneck speed back to the main jousting area. He stopped to let Austin off in front of the tent. Squire was leaning on his crutches in front of the tent’s portal.
“Your man will see that you are properly outfitted,” Baltazar said. “We’ll be wearing only chain mail and a helmet. It wouldn’t be chivalrous to burden you with full armor. You will have a shield and a lance. The horses will be unarmored, which will make things go faster. See you at the tilt.” He gunned the engine and took off, with his tires spinning on grass.
Squire watched Baltazar drive away and told Austin to get in the tent. He helped him on with a coat of mail and handed him a tunic with no emblem on it. The chain mail hood had an opening for Austin’s face. Squire placed a knitted skullcap on Austin’s head and tried the helmet on for size. It was a little loose but would have to do, he said. He buckled a sword around Austin’s waist and fitted him with spurs. He handed him a kite-shaped shield.
Surveying Austin, he spread his lips in a jagged grin. “You’re no Sir Lancelot, but you’ll have to do. Sit down and I’ll give you some pointers.”
Austin removed the helmet and sat on his bunk.
“Listen carefully. Baltazar likes to do things in threes. He plays with you on the first pass. Misses you completely. On the second, he’ll deliver a glancing blow. Probably on the shield. The third time is the money shot. He’ll spit you on his lance like a pig. Any questions?”
“Tell me where I can pick up an AK-47.”
Squire snorted. “You won’t need one. Baltazar uses a lance with a metal core. He makes sure his opponents get the wooden lance, which will shatter on his armor and can be deflected by the shield.”
“That doesn’t seem chivalrous,” Austin said.
“It
“Why are you doing this, Squire?”
The man brought his hand up to his bandaged face. “The bastard did this to me with his bogus lance. The doctors say I’ll look like Quasimodo. There’s not a pill in the world that will kill the pain from the damage to my legs.
“What happens to you if I do?”
“It’s nothing to me. Either way, I’m outta here. Maybe I can get a job with a bank.”
A guard poked his head into the tent. “Time.”
AN SUV was parked outside the tent. Accompanied by another vehicle carrying guards, Squire drove Austin to the bridge crossing, where a carnival atmosphere prevailed. Bull’s-head pennants fluttered from temporary flagpoles. Word of the impending joust had spread among Baltazar’s mercenary corps. In addition to the ever- present guards, the edge of the gorge was lined with men in medieval costume who had gathered to see Austin speared or thrown to his doom.
“You didn’t tell me we were going to a party,” Austin said.
“Baltazar likes an audience.” Squire pointed to a couple of huge horses being led from their trailers. “Gray horse is Baltazar’s. The dappled one is yours. Name is Valiant. Baltazar wanted you on a nag, but I made sure you got a good mount. Val’s steady and sure. Won’t balk on a charge.”
Squire pulled up near the horse trailers. Austin got out of the SUV and went over to introduce himself to his mount. The animal seemed as big as an elephant up close. Austin patted the animal’s side and whispered in its ear. “Come through for me this one time, Val, and I’ll feed you all the sugar you can eat.”
The horse snorted and tossed its head, which Austin took for a yes. He went over to inspect the jousting bridge. Two horses passing each other on the narrow span would make for a tight squeeze. There would be no margin of error if he were knocked from his saddle.
Austin heard a cheer from the assembled crowd. The Bentley was speeding toward the gorge. It continued across the bridge, trailed by a black Escalade, and stopped around a hundred yards from the canyon. Baltazar got out of his car and opened the SUV door.
A figure wearing a white dress got out, accompanied by two guards. The figure got off a brief wave before being hustled to the passenger side of the Bentley. Baltazar and his guards drove back across the bridge.
Baltazar strode over to Austin. He pointed to the Bentley. “There’s your lady. I have fulfilled my part of the bargain. Now it’s your turn.”
Austin stuck his hand out. “The car key.”
Baltazar lifted the helmet tucked under his arm. A key ring dangled from one of the two metal horns that protruded from the crown.
“Yours for the taking, Austin. We don’t want to make this too easy.”
Austin said, “I’ll need a pen and paper.”
Baltazar snapped an order. One of his men ran to the nearest SUV and came back with a dashboard pad and attached ballpoint. Using the car’s hood as an improvised writing desk, Austin jotted down a series of directions and sketched out a map. He underlined the words Gold Mine.
Baltazar held his hand out. Austin stuffed the paper into his helmet.
“As you said, Baltazar, we don’t want to make this too easy.”
Austin knew Baltazar could order his men to rush him, grab the mine map, and toss him into the gorge. He gambled that Baltazar’s insane ego would not do anything to spoil the show he had arranged for his men.
“Time to prove your mettle, Austin.”
With a glower so hot it could have sparked a forest fire, Baltazar spun on his heel and marched over to his horse. He vaulted into the saddle with unbelievable ease. Baltazar’s squire was holding the reins. He was a big man, dressed in a scarlet hooded costume, with his back toward Austin. He turned and looked at Austin, who recognized Baltazar’s baby-faced killer. Adriano smiled and pointed to the Bentley.
The implication was clear. If Austin failed, Carina was Adriano’s for the taking.
Baltazar spurred his horse. He galloped across the bridge and wheeled his mount around to face Austin.
Austin went over to Val and pulled himself into the saddle. Austin was unaccustomed to the weight of the chain mail and was considerably less agile than Baltazar. Squire handed his helmet and told him to keep his head bent forward so he could see through the narrow eye slits.
Next he handed up the shield and the lance and instructed Austin how to hold them.
“Watch the pennant near the lance head,” Squire said. “It will tell you where the point is.”
“Any other words of advice?” Austin’s voice echoed inside the helmet.
“Yeah,” Squire said. “Let your horse do his work, remember the third tilt, and pray for a miracle.”
He gave the horse a light slap on its flank and the giant animal lurched forward. Austin tried walking the horse in a circle. Val responded well to knee nudges. The weight and fighting equipment were awkward, but the saddle was high in the back and offered some support.
The brief rehearsal was about to come to an end.
A man dressed in the Lincoln green costume of a herald at arms blew a blast on his trumpet. The signal to get ready. Austin brought his horse around to face Baltazar. The second trumpet blast was the alert to lower
