Day at the Renaissance Faire
"Just where in hell is this place?" Bryce Mitchell asked with frustration, as he skillfully steered the Mitsubishi Gallant through another series of hairpin turns in the tree-lined country road. "There's no sign of civilization."
"I have no idea. The directions I got on the Internet say it's on this road but not how far up," his wife, Kayla, replied.
They had left the highway nearly twenty minutes earlier and had yet to see any signs advertising the Renaissance Faire.
"What's that up ahead of us?" Kayla asked hopefully fifteen minutes later when she spotted several stopped cars and a group of pedestrians crossing the street.
As he drove nearer, Bryce spotted a parking lot on the left-hand side of the road.
"This must be it," he announced.
"I think you're right," his wife agreed as she spied, through the trees on her right, castle spires and brightly colored flags bearing heraldic coats of arms.
"Finally!"
Bryce paid five dollars to squeeze his Gallant into the crowded preferred parking lot. Then he grabbed his camera, and he and Kayla headed across the street to the Faire where dozens of people were converging on the main gate. Most were dressed in period costumes, but with temperatures topping ninety degrees, Bryce and Kayla decided to wear more sensible clothing. Perspiring in tee shirts and shorts, they pitied those poor souls in long gowns, tights and velvet doublets, who must surely be roasting in the sweltering August sun.
"Look," Bryce said, pointing to a man in chain mail armor who looked like an extra from the cast of Camelot. "If I'm sweating, imagine how he must feel!"
As he and his wife passed through the main gates, they spotted a pretty young wench who called to the crowd in a pseudo-Old English accent, "Good day to ye, fine lords and ladies. Step forward and get yourself a souvenir program of yer day in the shire. Inside you'll find a map to help you find your way."
Kayla bought a program, and then she and Bryce started walking past the vendors hawking their wares, from roasted nuts and barrel pickles to face painting and disposable cameras. As the Mitchells headed up a dirt path dubbed Royal Row, they came upon a Maypole around which a group of actors was performing the Tales of Robin Hood. Across from the Maypole was a castle-like structure with a dirt track in front of it.
"That must be where they hold the jousts," Bryce surmised.
"I'd love to see a joust. We'll have to come back later and watch it."
They continued on along the path, passing food stands, games and rides for children, musicians and portable toilets dubbed "privies" for the occasion. There were many shops clustered in Market Square featuring medieval costumes, jewelry, swords and knives, leather goods, hand-blown glass, tapestries, pottery and live lizards advertised as baby dragons. For the New Age crowd, there were psychics, incense and oils, herbs, mystical crafts and books, crystals, and wands.
While his wife examined a selection of Celtic cross pendants, Bryce watched the belly-dancing exhibition. Kayla soon rejoined her husband, and the two headed for a refreshment stand.
"Wow," she said under her breath, "three-fifty for a Coke. What a rip-off!"
But walking in the oppressive heat had left them both parched.
"I think I'd rather have a nice cold glass of lemonade," she announced. "It might do more to quench my thirst."
The two sat at a table in the shade of a spreading maple tree, drinking their lemonade and thumbing through the program. Kayla turned to a listing of performances and show times, took a pen from her purse and circled the shows she and Bryce wanted to see.
"There are only two jousts," Kayla said. "The first is scheduled at 1:30 and the other at 6:00."
"We'd better catch the early one. I don't know if I want to stay here until the Faire closes at 7:00. I don't relish spending the whole day out here in this sweltering heat."
"Okay, and right after the joust is a performance of Romeo and Juliet."
Bryce rolled his eyes. He did not particularly care for Shakespeare under the best of conditions. Sitting in the scorching sun and watching a play performed with antiquated dialogue was not something he looked forward to, but compromise was the key to a successful marriage.
"I'd like to see the mud show afterward," Bryce suggested.
That was Kayla's turn to compromise.
"Oh, look at this, honey," she said. "It's a living chess match."
Bryce checked his watch. They had better get going if they wanted to see all the shows they had selected.
On their way to the Village Green, they came upon a large, castle-like building that housed two museums: one featuring a collection of armor and medieval weapons and the other a display of torture and execution devices. Both true horror aficionados, Bryce and Kayla paid the three dollars admittance fee to view brutal inventions such as the guillotine, the rack, the wheel, the cage, the heretics' fork, the pendulum and the iron maiden.
"Man certainly was uncivilized back in the Dark Ages," Bryce declared as he looked at a mannequin being suspended by its feet with a two-man saw poised ready to cut it in half vertically. "Imagine spending five hours sawing a man or woman in half! How barbaric!"
"Yeah, I'll say. In our time, we can kill thousands of people in a matter of seconds by taking an airplane into a skyscraper. Mankind certainly has made great strides in becoming civilized."
"Thou art a smart ass, wench," Bryce said, smacking his wife playfully on the rump. "I'm getting hungry. What about you?"
Kayla nodded in agreement.
"I'm glad they have an ATM machine here. With these prices, we just might run out of money before the day is over."
They stopped at a crowded food stand where the choices were steak-on-a-stake, sausage-on-a-stick, turkey legs, pizza and cheese fries. Bryce, true to his sex, ordered a turkey leg, a gigantic drumstick that was to be eaten a la Henry VIII, by holding it in one's hand and tearing the meat off with one's incisors. Kayla, on the other hand, opted for the sausage-on-a-stick.
After they finished eating, the couple managed to find two empty seats in the bleachers to watch the joust. Once the evil black knight was defeated by the gallant hero, the crowd around the tournament field dispersed.
"Come on," Kayla said as she tugged gently on Bryce's arm, "the Shakespearean stage is right up this path."
In the middle of the famous balcony scene, Kayla looked over at Bryce and noticed that he had dozed off.
"Don't you want to see the play?" she asked, elbowing him in the ribs.
His bored look said it all.
"You're the big fan of the bard, not me."
"Would you rather go see another show?" Kayla inquired.
"No. You wanted to see this one. I promise I'll try to stay awake."
"That's okay. I've seen several versions of Romeo and Juliet already. Let's go see something we both can enjoy."
"Why don't we go watch the mud show then? There's nothing like a good sporting event to keep me awake."
The Mitchells made their way across the crowded shire, following a throng of people to the Mud-A-Torium, home of the Sturdy Beggars Mud Show where a sign proclaimed the attraction to be "the greatest show in earth."
Just as Bryce was not particularly eager to spend a hot afternoon suffering through a performance of Shakespeare, Kayla was reluctant to watch mud wrestling. However, the show was not what she had expected. Rather than two muscle-bound men wrestling in a pit of mud, the act was more of an audience-participation comedy routine. The beggars' bawdy style of humor went over the heads of the youngsters in the audience although the adults laughed loudly and applauded enthusiastically.
Likewise, the father and son knife-throwing act was liberally sprinkled with ribald jokes and double-entendres. It was far more than a circus act in a medieval setting.
Having been thoroughly entertained by both the mud beggars and the knife throwers, Kayla decided to take a closer look at the schedule of shows in the program. Perhaps they would stay until closing, after all.
"The human chess match doesn't start for another half an hour. Why don't we take a walk up that path through the woods and see what's there?" Bryce suggested, preferring exploring the unknown to following his wife through the shops on Spende Penny Lane.
"Are you sure there are exhibits this way?" Kayla asked, noticing that she and Bryce were the only people in the immediate area.
"It's a road; it must lead somewhere."
"It could be an exit."
Just as they were about to turn around and head back to the crowded square, Kayla and Bryce heard muffled voices in the wooded area ahead. They walked in that direction and saw a young man and woman in exquisite medieval costume, walking closely together, deep in conversation.
"Excuse me," Bryce called to them, "are there any more exhibits along this path?"
Neither the man nor the woman gave any indication of having heard him.
"Hello," he said louder, but the two young people still failed to take notice of him.
Bryce walked closer and stood almost directly in front of the costumed couple. Neither of them looked in his direction.
"Don't be so rude," Kayla cautioned. "They could be rehearsing for their act."
The woman suddenly stopped walking and turned toward her companion.
"Oh, Lancelot" she cried passionately, "why must you torture me so? What does it matter if I care for you or not? I am a married woman."
"My dearest heart, no one bears Arthur greater respect and loyalty than I, yet I cannot help adore you. Please, Guinevere, tell me I do not love in vain. Tell me you return my affection."
"Lancelot, please do not press me so," the queen cried. "I cannot betray Arthur. He is not only my husband but also my king."
"I know," Lancelot groaned in anguish. "My love for you betrays not only my friendship but also my knight's oath."
Lancelot took the queen in his arms and kissed her on the lips. Guinevere tearfully pulled away from him and ran toward Bryce and Kayla. Before the shocked spectators could step aside, the young queen ran up to them—and right through them! All Kayla and Bryce felt was a cold chill as first the Queen of Camelot and then the mighty Knight of the Round Table passed through them.
The Mitchells turned and looked at each other, speechless. Then they hurried to follow the distraught lovers, but Kayla and Bryce lost sight of them in the woods.
"Did we just see a pair of ghosts?" Kayla asked with amazement.
"I don't know what they were, but I think we should head back to the main fairgrounds."
Suddenly, the sound of horses' hooves came up the path.
"Your Majesty," the rider called.
"What is it, Mordred?" replied a voice from behind the Mitchells.
They turned to see the legendary King Arthur waiting to speak to Mordred, his treacherous, illegitimate son.
"It is just as I warned you, Your Majesty."
The malicious look in Mordred's eyes belied his respectful words.
"Queen Guinevere and Sir Lancelot have betrayed you."
"I will not hear gossip against either my wife or Lancelot. They are my dearest friends."
"It is not gossip, Your Majesty. At this very moment, they are together."
"Be careful, Mordred! I will not tolerate lies even from my own son."
"Then go to the queen's chamber now and see the proof of my words for yourself."
The king looked down, hesitant to move.
"You will not go because you are afraid that I am right, and if I am, then your friend and your wife ...."
"Silence!" Arthur shouted. "I will return to the castle as you suggest. If the queen and Lancelot are not there, I will insist that you apologize to them both—publicly."
Arthur and Mordred headed along the path recently taken by Guinevere and Lancelot. This time, Kayla and Bryce quickly jumped out of their way.
A mystified Bryce turned to his wife and asked, "What do you suppose is up this path—Camelot? But we're in America, not England."
"I have no idea. Do you think we should go and find out?"
"Why not? We've seen four ghosts—or whatever they are—and they've done us no harm. I don't think we're in any danger."
Bravely, Kayla and Bryce continued along the wooded path. They eventually came upon a glistening lake, as blue as a polished sapphire. Arthur, Guinevere and Lancelot were standing on its banks beside an old man wearing a long green robe. Clearly, a period of several weeks or perhaps months had elapsed in the life of the people of Camelot.
"You did well in rescuing the queen, Lancelot," the old man said.
"It was as I had hoped," Arthur admitted. "I knew my friend would not stand by and let my wife burn at the stake."
The old man nodded.
"I congratulate you, Arthur, on the courage it took to sentence Guinevere. If you hadn't, your people would have lost all respect for their king."
"And now, my old teacher," Arthur said, patting the elderly man on his back, "we come to you for help."
"What can I do?"
"Lancelot and Guinevere have nowhere to go. Mordred ruthlessly hunts them even now. Good Merlin, I remember when I was a boy you would turn me into a hawk so that I could fly high above my kingdom."
"You wish me to turn Lancelot and the queen into hawks?" Merlin laughed.
Arthur chuckled, but his good humor faded quickly.
"I know my hopes and dreams for Camelot are coming to an end. Mordred is bent on my destruction. Lancelot and Guinevere were but strikes against my heart and my morale and a test of my authority. My son is as devious and as deceitful as a snake, but he is also as sly as a fox. I fear he will win over me in the end."
Merlin nodded silently in agreement.
"When I am gone, he will show those I loved no mercy," the king continued. "Please, Merlin, send them where he cannot harm them."
"Very well, Arthur, but I shall save all of us—Lancelot, Guinevere, you, me, Mordred and all the Knights of the Round Table. I will send all of Camelot to a place where it will live forever."
"Where is that?" Arthur asked.
"Into the realm of legend. Kings and queens—mere mortal men and women—all die, but legends live forever."
Arthur put his right arm around Guinevere and his left around Lancelot as Merlin raised his gnarled oak wand and spoke a few words of an ancient magic language.
A wispy blue cloud formed around the feet of the king, queen and knight. It slowly traveled upward, encircling the trio of friends and then reached out for the great wizard himself. As Kayla and Bryce watched, the cloud thickened and became opaque. After several minutes the blue mist dissipated, and the lake, woods and path vanished along with the strange visitors from Camelot. Kayla and Bryce found themselves standing on pavement, surrounded by trucks, vans and cars.
"Hey," called a man wearing a guard's uniform, "are you two visiting the Renfaire?"
"Yes," Bryce replied, feeling slightly dizzy by the experience.
"Well, you must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. This is the employee parking lot."
The guard then showed them the way back to the fairgrounds, back to the twenty-first century where modern revelers were celebrating the pageantry of Elizabethan England.
"Are ye enjoying yer day in the shire?" a young wench asked when Kayla and Bryce found their way back to the Village Green.
"Oh," Bryce replied, "it's been an experience we'll never forget; I assure you."
The Mitchells walked to Spende Penny Lane in silence. Neither was hazarding any guesses as to where they had just been.
Finally, Bryce could keep quiet no longer and asked his wife, "You don't suppose that the turkey might have gone bad and caused us to hallucinate, do you?"
"I didn't have turkey, remember? Besides, I doubt we'd share the same hallucination."
"Leave yer troubles and cares behind," a woman's voice called out from the bookshop up ahead. "Seek yer refuge in the pages of lore. Read of dragons and wizards, of witches and wenches, of knights and chivalry, of things long gone from yer world."
Kayla and Bryce entered the shop as if drawn by the woman's voice.
"Read the tales of Robin of the Hood and his Merry Men, of St. George and the Dragon, of Macbeth and the Weird Sisters, of the beautiful and wicked Morgan LaFay."
The woman then stepped out of the shadows and into the light.
"Read of the splendor that was once Camelot, of the lovers Guinevere and Lancelot, of the good and just King Arthur and of the wise and powerful wizard, Merlin."
Kayla and Bryce stared in awe at the beautiful young woman.
"Do you wish to take a journey into the land of legend?" she inquired with a smile.
Although the Elizabethan costume the bookseller wore was nowhere near as elegant and regal as the Arthurian-period gown Kayla and Bryce had seen her wearing earlier, there was no doubt in either of their minds that the vendor in the King's Pages Book Shoppe was Guinevere, the beautiful queen of Camelot.
"Come, buy a book," she entreated the fairgoers, "for only in its pages can the past really come alive and legends live forever."
I wrote this story after going to the New York Renaissance Faire for the first time. The image below is of the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire (one of my favorite places, featuring a variety of entertaining shows throughout most of the year.)
Guess who was the queen's favorite at the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire!
