was adorned with painted images of sad-eyed puppies and Elvis Presley. When the crowd was seated on the bleachers, the regal-looking man raised his hands, as if expecting roars of approval. He got a smattering of applause.
“I am Mortimer Dred, king of the Real Renaissance Faire.” When he raised his hands higher, his ballooning black velvet sleeves dropped down to his elbows, revealing scrawny arms. “All fantasy-based unnaturals are here to perform for your entertainment, and tips are gladly accepted.” The next round of applause was markedly subdued.
“Today’s first match is between two of our greatest jousters. Sir Anatomy of Bone!” One of the knights raised the squeaking visor of his steel helmet to reveal a skull, grinning to hear the loud whistles that greeted his name. The skeleton knight opened his metal breastplate to reveal an empty rib cage.
“And on the other end of the field,” King Dred roared, “Sir Fangsalot of Jugular!” The second knight doffed his helmet to reveal the pallid skin, widow’s peak, and slicked-back hair of a dapper vampire. He flashed his fangs.
“Those aren’t real names,” Alvina said. “They’re silly stage names, like in WWE.”
The kid was smart. Very smart. Took after me.
The skeleton knight lowered his lance, pointing it at his opponent. The vampire knight showed no concern about the long wooden stake pointed toward his chest.
When the Renaissance king waved a pennant, the two knights kicked their horses and charged directly toward each other like street racers playing chicken. The hooves pounded; the audience held their breath. We all stared, tense. The riders came closer and closer.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched King Dred hurry down the steps of the reviewing stand, as if he had an important appointment. I turned back to the charging horses. The lances were leveled; the demonic horses were reckless. The two knights seemed not to care for their own lives or safety.
At the last moment, Sir Fangsalot raised his shield, knocked the threatening wooden staff to one side, but held his own pole firm and plunged it through the armored chest of Sir Anatomy. The lance skewered the skeletal knight and knocked him off his horse. He landed with a clamor of armor on the jousting field.
The crowd’s gasp was like thunder. The vampire knight rode past and wheeled around, holding up a gauntleted hand in triumph. “Victory is mine!”
The skeleton fumbled on the ground, grabbing at his metal breastplate, barely able to move due to the long lance thrust directly through him. He pulled his armor plate open to reveal that the wooden shaft had passed harmlessly between two widely spaced ribs.
“You hit no vital organs!” shouted Sir Anatomy. “I demand a rematch.”
“It’s all fake,” said Alvina, “like WWE.”
“All in good fun, honey,” said Sheyenne. “No real knights were hurt during the performance.”
Golems lumbered onto the field to extricate the long lance from Sir Anatomy. They rounded up the snorting demon horses and started to prepare the field for the two o’clock jousting round.
Having finished her unicorn frappé, Alvina was hungry again. Leaving the jousting field, we strolled among the vending stalls, sniffing the odors, some delicious, some nauseating.
I heard subdued shouting up ahead, clearly an argument that was not part of any performance. My eyes were drawn to pointy objects at a sword vendor’s stall. A scrawny old gremlin with patchy fur and immensely thick glasses squirmed on a stool behind a counter, surrounded by broadswords, throwing daggers, battle-axes, and morning stars. A sign in front of the stall promised GIFTS FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY!
King Mortimer Dred loomed in front of the stall, waving his arms. “I want that sword! You were supposed to hold it for me.”
“Sorry, sir,” said the gremlin in a raspy voice. “We can’t do layaway plans.”
“I am the Renaissance king,” Mort insisted.
The gremlin leaned forward like an astronomer peering through a telescope, but he couldn’t see much through his glasses. “I told you last week, and the week before, that someone already bought the sword.” He gestured toward his collection of weapons on display. “But I have plenty of others. Why not choose a