The loud trumpeting of heralds’ horns announced the arrival of the knights. Their names were called as each man entered the arena, and the crowd cheered accordingly. The king and queen sat watching, both the image of regal stoicism. The knights charged around the jousting field, banners snapping in the wind, dust and sand flying from beneath their horses’ hooves. All hoped to earn the favors of the crowd.
Out beyond the field that acted as a parking lot, a siren blared, getting louder and softer as it passed. Wes barely noticed at first, but it was too out of place in their humble grove. Fortunately, it didn’t last long enough to interrupt the start of the joust. The opening speeches were word for word as they had been the previous day, and would remain largely unchanged until the end of the season. Wes imagined he might be able to recite it himself by October. He longed for the cool relief of autumn. Two days into the latest Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire and temperatures were peaking. The weather forecasts said the rest of August would be equally brutal.
Nevertheless, there was work to be done. Wes meandered through the crowd of people who had come to watch the joust. “Flowers for sale!” he called. “Wondrous flowers that neither wilt nor fade! Two dollars apiece! Three for five dollars!” He gripped his basket of wooden and metal flowers with sweaty hands. His water flask bounced against his hip, but he wasn’t dying of thirst yet. He wanted to make a full circuit of the audience before he stopped, then he could watch the joust, too.
Several Renaissance Faire employees were spurring the crowd’s cheers. One side called out, “Fight for right!” and the other shouted, “Cheat to win!” Wes found the whole Good versus Evil motif clichéd, but it was entertaining and considerably less confusing than the historical Renaissance alliances. Furthermore, they had a new crew of knights this year. One of the knights was a returning actor with the Bacchanalian Acting Company, although he had only been the reserve knight in case any of the others couldn’t perform in previous years.
On the “good” side, they had Sir Wallace, Earl of Westmorland, and Sir Charles, Lord of Woodcroft. Opposite them were Sir Fulke, Lord of Dunsany, and Sir Rowland, Baron of Ravenstone. Their real names were Robert, Carlo, Hal, and Jeff, respectively, but Wes had only met them all briefly the day before. They seemed like great guys, and Wes looked forward to when the Faire closed so he could hang out with them.
“Flowers for sale!” Wes announced again, quieter this time so people could hear what was going on. He stopped by a group of children standing with their parents. One little girl in a polyester gown and plastic tiara clung to her father’s leg, but smiled up at Wes from behind her hand. “Would the pretty princess like a pretty flower?” Wes asked. “Only two dollars apiece, and these are magic flowers that will stay pretty forever.”
The little girl tugged her father’s hand. “Please, Daddy? Please please please! I want a pink one!” Her father sighed, but pulled out his wallet. Suddenly several other children piped up, all asking for flowers. After some compromising, Wes ended up selling six flowers for ten dollars, four wooden and two metal. He bowed to the parents and the children, bade them a good day, and wandered to a less occupied shady area to watch the joust and wait for more customers.
Nearly all the trees were surrounded by people trying to get out of the direct sunlight. Wes had seen scarcely a cloud all morning, and now in the early afternoon the temperature was nearing ninety degrees. The upside to this was all the Faire-goers who showed up topless. Plenty of the women who attended in period dress had opted for outfits with minimum fabric, some in “shirts” that were little more than bikini tops with strings hanging down to cover their midriffs. However, Wes was preoccupied checking out all the buff, young, sweaty men in nothing but kilts and knee-high boots. He was required to wear a shirt, but he chose a loose, lightweight fabric, and he wore his own kilt in true Scotsman style.
Wes could only find a shady place to stand near the field’s entrance, where the circular path around the audience funneled back towards the Faire grounds. A few people were trickling in, fashionably late for the event, and Wes quietly and politely offered them flowers. They all waved him off, but Wes decided to stick around to catch the flood of potential customers after the joust ended. His view was partially obscured by other trees, but he had seen everything the day before and could tell what was happening from the cheers.
