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The crowd gasped as the Green Knight swung his two-handed pole–axe down against the helmet of the Black Squire; the ringing blow echoed across the tourney field as the young squire fell to his knees then slowly pitched forward into the sandy earth. The Green Knight turned and surveyed the field; six opponents lay sprawled in the dirt. Only the Red Knight remained. Pausing briefly to acknowledge the crowd’s cheers, the Green Knight stepped up to the weapon rack and selected a triangular shield and single-handed sword. He then strode purposefully towards his foe, who stood at the center of the field breathing heavily and surrounded by fallen adversaries.
Stopping just outside of the Red Knight’s reach, the Green Knight performed a graceful salute to his opponent and took his guard stance. The Red Knight raised his round shield and slapped his sword sharply against it in answer. Both men grinned broadly behind their metal face grills as they slowly began to circle one another, vigilantly looking for any weakness or opening in their opponent’s guard. Both Knights were tall, but where the Green Knight was lean and wiry, the Red Knight was mountainous and ursine.
The crowd was hushed as all eyes followed the two warriors as they circled each other warily, changing their guard constantly to keep their opponent guessing their intent. The Green Knight launched a flurry of feints, testing his rival’s defense and trying to bait him into overextending. The Red Knight raised his sword and surged forward before suddenly stepping back out of range, shaking his head and grinning. He would not so easily fall for that!
The Warriors resumed their predatory circling till the Red Knight, sensing an advantage, leapt forward with surprising speed for such a large man and delivered a flurry of powerful blows. The Green Knight stood his ground, blocking his opponent’s attacks with shield and sword. The crowd cheered as the ringing blows echoed through the wooded valley. The two men separated once more seemingly none the worse for wear, apart from the Green Knight’s ostrich feather plume which was now missing a few of its feathers.
Armor clanking, the two men collided again and exchanged furious blows as the crowd roared. The Red Knight grinned, seeing an opening in his rival’s defense. In the heat of combat the Green Knight had raised his shield too high while warding off his opponents heavy overhand blows. After throwing a high feint the Red Knight lunged forward and struck with the back of his blade at the Green Knight’s ribs. Too late he realized it was a trap, as his wary opponent dropped his shield back into position and spun out of the attack. The Green Knight delivered a stunning blow over the top of his rival’s shield, striking him square in the metal face grill of his helmet. The Red Knight grimaced and muttered a silent curse as his ears rang from the blow. Ever the showman, he gave his rival a final salute before slowly toppling into the sandy earth like a felled tree, much to the delight of the cheering crowd.
The Green Knight saluted his fallen adversary before removing his helmet and acknowledging the crowd. He was handsome, with long dark wavy hair, a broad smile across his dust and sweat grimed face. As the trumpets rang out a fanfare the defeated warriors rose to their feet and dusted themselves off, forming up in front of the grandstand where the tournament Marshal and the ladies were seated. The Green Knight, introduced by the announcer as Sir William Fitzhugh, was presented with a delicate crown woven with flowers and ribbons. He in turn presented this to his lady, a pretty redhead with long curly hair who was a full head shorter than him. Announcing loudly that his lady, Kathryn O’Connor, was the festival’s Queen of Love and Beauty, he placed the delicate crown upon her head as she beamed at him. Joining hands they turned towards the tourney field and bowed as they received the cheers of the fighters and the applause of the spectators. The victorious couple then made their way down to the field, the other warriors falling in behind them with their ladies as they paraded once around the arena in the final act of the day’s tournament.
After completing their circuit of the tourney field, the company dispersed; some chatted with members of the public or posed for photos while others, exhausted from the days exertions, made their way back to the arming tents, took off their armor and washed down the dust with a cold beer. The crowd of tourists that had been watching from the grandstands began melting away, heading back to the cool shade of the pines where the bulk of the Renaissance Fair was set up. Although it was late September and pleasantly cool, the altitude of the Arizona high country gave the sun added ferocity on this nearly cloudless day.
“Come on Rachel — or rather Lady Evelyn.” Zoë said with a mischievous smile, “Time for introductions.”
“I know that look!” I whispered to her. “You’re scheming! Are you setting you up with one of the Knights? You are, aren’t you!”
“You’ll just have güvenilir bahis to wait and see.” Zoë teased, a playful grin spreading across her face.
“Well if you do, make sure they understand the armor comes off first!” I laughed. “I loved Excalibur as much as you did, but that love scene looked damn uncomfortable!”
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it!” Zoë replied smirking.
I could only shake my head and smile. She probably had tried it!
Zoë was an absolute gem, and my best friend in the whole world. The kind of friend who would not only help you move furniture, but who would help you move a body. We had been good friends since college, where we shared off-campus housing while attending ASU. We bonded instantly despite the fact that we were complete opposites in many ways; where I was serious, studious and socially awkward, Zoë was free-spirited, carefree and possessed of a magnetic personality that always made her the life of the party. Her baby blue eyes, long blonde hair and above all her charm more than compensated for the fact that she had always been a plus sized girl. But she knew how to work it, and was one of the sexiest women I have ever known. After graduation we had gone our separate ways, she to the excitement of San Francisco (where she worked for a time as a professional dominatrix, making big money spanking Japanese business executives), and I to the drab suburbs and an ill-fated marriage.
I had met Ron my senior year in college. He was a good looking, clean-cut all American type; from a good family, played lacrosse, very active in the church. He was a serious and ambitious young man for a serious and ambitious young woman. We were married shortly after graduation and bought a house near his parents place in an upscale community in Mesa Arizona.
Not two years into my marriage my world fell apart when I discovered that Ron was having an affair with Ashley, one of my closest friends. When I confronted him in public, word quickly spread and to my shock and horror I was the one ostracized by the community, for making Ron’s betrayal a public matter and for failing in my “wifely duties”. It turns out that Ashley was also from a high-ranking family within the church, and had always been their preferred match for Ron; the church elders knew of the affair all along and did nothing. I was the outsider, and I was thrown out of my world with little more than the clothes on my back.
Zoë, ever the true friend, dropped everything and flew out to spend a week with me. She picked me up, dusted me off and helped me find my footing. Through sheer force of will she turn my life around; by the time she flew back to San Francisco I had moved into a small but nice apartment in Tempe, gotten my finances in order, hired a good lawyer, and had applied for half a dozen jobs in the area. She was determined to rescue me from the dull conformist attitude that had been part and parcel of my former life, and was planning something outrageous and fun to celebrate the finalization of my divorce. I was just as determined to wash away all traces of the meek, boring conservative housewife I had been. I wanted to live life to the fullest, be outrageous and do things that would shock the gray-haired church elders.
Zoë was the perfect guide to the wild side, and I trusted her completely. But honestly, I wasn’t expecting a Renaissance Fair.
I smiled nervously and made my way down from the bleachers, carefully hiking the hem of the medieval dress so as not to trip on the wooden stairs. Once more on solid ground, I attempted to compose myself in the shade of the bleachers. The dress Zoë had brought me was beautiful; made of a rich burgundy brocade it fit well, although a little tight around the bust where the bodice squeezed me up and out, giving my 36c breasts the illusion of 2 extra cup sizes.
“Arms out darling.” Zoë said, as she appraised me critically.
I stretched my arms wide and struggled to get a deep breath, fighting against the tightness of the bodice. After looking at my bust from several angles, Zoë reached without warning into my bodice and manhandled my breasts for a few quick seconds.
“There, that’s better!” She said, smiling. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”
“The dress, or having my tittes groped in public?” I giggled.
“Both, if you’re lucky!” Zoë smiled, as she adjusted her own costume. Her dress was both elegant and outlandish, a riot of contrasting colors, textures and patterns. Displaying to great advantage her ample bosom, the ensemble was topped by a wide felt hat adorned with brightly colored ostrich feathers. The style, she told me, was known as “Puff and Slash”, popularized in the Renaissance by a famous German mercenary company with an unpronounceable name.
Standing in the shadows of the bleachers, we touched up our makeup, adjusted our clothing and our hair. At Zoë’s suggestion I had my hair styled into something more interesting than my usual long ponytail. We had decided on something romantic and timeless, so I opted for a light curl türkçe bahis that gave my normally straight hair some body and bounce. The overall effect was dramatic, and I hardly recognized myself; long wavy locks of lustrous black hair framed my heart shaped face, falling to mid back. My figure, honed on the tennis courts and the gym, was admirably displayed above the waistline, while the long skirt discreetly hid my legs. Standing at 5’7″, I was a few inches taller than Zoë and my dark hair, dark eyes and olive complexion contrasted sharply with her Nordic features.
“I don’t know what you’re planning Zoë, but I’m sure it will be fun!” I said with a grin.
Zoë held up an admonishing finger. “Lady Alessandra from now on!” She corrected me. “And you are lady Evelyn.”
I rolled my eyes. The whole make-believe name thing seemed kind of silly to me, but I was willing to humor Zoë — Lady Alessandra – for the duration of the weekend at least.
Alessandra caught my expression in the mirror of her compact. “When in Rome darling…” She said as she snapped closed her compact, slid it into a fabric belt pouch and took my hand with a smile. She led me across the tourney field to a small gate marked with a “No Admittance” sign, behind which several colorful tents were set up. The fighters were there, in various states of undress as they peeled off the layers of armor, leather and sweaty padding, some packing their armor into duffel bags, others reclining on lawn chairs as they drank beer and discussed the day’s combat.
Alessandra headed to a tall round tent made of alternating panels of green and white, beside which flew a green banner. “Knock knock!” She sang out.
Sir William, the Green Knight, emerged from the tent wearing only sweatpants, kneepads and high black boots; his thick dark hair hung down to just above his broad shoulders and was tousled from its long confinement in his helmet. Rivulets of sweat ran down his lean muscular chest to his firm abdomen, and his strong arms glistened from the day’s exertion. He fixed me for a moment with his beautiful hazel eyes as he dabbed the grime and dust from his face with a washcloth and I felt my pulse quicken as I blushed like a schoolgirl. He, like most of the members of the company, appeared to be in his late 20s and very fit.
William smiled broadly as he saw Alessandra, and stepped forward to greet her with a gentle hug. “Careful Alessandra!” He laughed, “I’m sure you don’t want me sweating all over your lovely dress.”
“Nonsense darling!” Alessandra replied flirtatiously. “You know I love the smell of sweat and leather!” She leaned towards William and inhaled deeply, closing her eyes before making a little growling sound and lightly scratching his taut bare chest with her fingernails. “Where is that gorgeous lady of yours?” She asked. “Tell her to get out here at once before I throw myself at you!”
As if on cue the petite redhead emerged from the tent carrying a freshly opened beer for William. On seeing us, her lightly freckled face lit up with a joyful grin. After handing the beer to William, she embraced Alessandra warmly.
“Alessandra!” The redhead trilled. “You look absolutely fabulous as usual! I’m so thrilled you could make it — it feels like it’s been years!” The two women exchanged pecks before the redhead turned to look at me with smiling green eyes.
Standing at about 5 foot 3, the redhead was petite but well proportioned. Her long curly red hair hung down to just above mid-back and her pale complexion, dusting of freckles and twinkling green eyes made her look every bit the Celtic Princess. She was wearing a dress not unlike my own, only hers was of deep forest green. “This must be the one you’ve been telling me about.” She said to Alessandra in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Sir William, Lady Kathryn, I’d like you to meet my good friend Lady Evelyn.” Alessandra said, performing the introductions. “Lady Evelyn, I’d like you to meet two of my dearest friends, Sir William and his wife Lady Kathryn.”
I awkwardly curtsied, not knowing what else to do in this situation. “Congratulations on winning the tournament Sir William!” I said. “It was very exciting to watch.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” William said, as he took my hand and kissed it gallantly.
“Yes, congratulations darling!” Alessandra said to William with a smile. “You looked fabulous out there, graceful and deadly.”
“What do you ladies have planned for this afternoon?” William inquired.
“Lady Evelyn is in desperate need of corruption.” Alessandra said with a wicked smile as she took my left arm.
“Well you’ve definitely come to the right place for that!” Kathryn grinned as she took my right. “I’ve been good all day and it’s killing me. Let’s go shopping and plot some mischief together.”
“Lady Evelyn, I can’t decide if you’re in the very best of hands, or the very worst!” William said as he grinned and stroked his chin. “But I can guarantee you’re going to have fun.”
“Quite right!” Alessandra exclaimed. “To the merchant’s row!”
Alessandra güvenilir bahis siteleri and Kathryn led me back across the tournament field and down a short slope to the wooded park where the Renaissance Fair was set up. A cool breeze was blowing and the pine scented air felt wonderful and refreshing after the stifling and dusty climate of Phoenix. The fair was spread over several acres, a mix of merchant’s stalls, small arenas for performers and a central food court. We wandered in a more or less clockwise direction, our attention split between shopping and gossip.
Some time later while we were in the tent of a fabric merchant admiring their fine imported silk, a stunning woman in a sky blue belly dancing costume called out to us. She was very exotic looking, with delicate oriental features and long straight black hair cut with bangs. Her body was amazing, and very much on display through the gauzy material. She walked gracefully over to us and gave Alessandra and Kathryn a friendly hug.
“Lady Roxana, I would like you to meet my friend Lady Evelyn.” Alessandra said. “This is her first time.” She continued with a wink.
Roxana smiled knowingly and gave me a welcoming hug.
“Lady Evelyn, this is lady Roxana, wife of Sir Godfrey.” Alessandra continued. “He fought in blue today.”
“Where is Godfrey?” Kathryn inquired.
“He saw a camera.” Roxana sighed as she rolled her eyes. “He’s out front posing. Wait till you see what he did with his hair.”
We giggled and exited the tent to find Sir Godfrey, sword drawn, in a dramatic pose for the cameras of several tourists.
Godfrey stood about 5 foot 7 with broad shoulders and a somewhat stocky figure. He was wearing a blue tunic with black and white checkered trim, black hose and short brown leather boots. Clean shaven, his thick brown hair was cropped close in an authentic Norman bowl cut, complete with the high shave on the back of his skull.
“Sorry.” Godfrey said, as he sheathed his sword and joined us. “Paparazzi. They hound me everywhere!” He said in a tone of mock exasperation.
“Oh my God!” Alessandra gasped, before reaching out and stroking his head. “Your hair! You sir, are dedicated.”
“A wager is a wager.” Godfrey grinned, as he shrugged. “Besides, I kind of like it.”
“I think it suits you!” The Black Knight said, as he and his lady joined the group.
Alessandra introduced me to Godfrey and then to the Black Knight, Sir Alaric, and his lady Marguerite.
Alaric was the oldest member of the company I had yet met, perhaps in his late 30s or early 40s. He was about 5 foot 8, of medium build with dark curly hair falling to just above his shoulders and a neatly trimmed beard with a few strands of gray. He was dressed entirely in black, wearing a tunic trimmed with silver, tall leather boots and a hooded mantle that was currently drawn up over his head. He still wore his metal leg armor, which creaked a bit when he walked. Despite his intimidating costume he seemed soft-spoken and thoughtful, with deep dark eyes and an easy smile.
Alaric’s lady, Marguerite, accompanied him wearing a dress that matched his black and silver tunic. Apparently she was an ex-wife who was on reasonably good terms with him; at least that’s what I gathered from gossiping with Kathryn and Alessandra.
“Godfrey!” Marguerite exclaimed. “What have you done with your hair?”
“Well?” Godfrey said as he ran his fingers through his close–cropped hair. “What do you think?
“I think it makes you look like a fascist.” Marguerite said disapprovingly.
“Cool!” Godfrey exclaimed as he admired himself in the fabric merchant’s mirror. “That’s the look I was going for.”
We all had a good laugh apart from Marguerite, who rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath.
“Hey,” Godfrey shrugged, “nobody ever had a sexual fantasy about being tied to a bed and ravaged by someone dressed as a hippie.”
Alessandra seemed to ponder for a moment. “You know, he has a point.” She said, as we all burst out laughing.
After several minutes of pleasant and witty conversation, Alessandra, Kathryn and I excused ourselves and head towards the food court for some snacks as the others made their way back to the campsite. Stopping several times to pose with tourists for photos, we made our way to a quiet corner of the seating area. We sat on a picnic table and passed around a bag of caramelized almonds as we chatted and observed the tourists interact with the wandering performers. We watched as a rail thin young juggler wearing a jester’s hat struck out again and again as he attempted to chat up the pretty girls. We giggled as “Dead Fred,” the wisecracking skeletal ventriloquist dummy, frightened children and flirted with their mothers.
“Best people watching ever.” Kathryn said, as a skinny disheveled mother in a Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt attempted to wrangle 3 screaming children in smeared face paint into a photo with Sam–Sam the dwarf. Alessandra and I murmured in agreement as we munched on the delicious almonds. We relaxed in the shade of the pines for almost an hour, talking and playing a game of “Fashion Police 911” as the tourists wandered by. Alessandra excused herself to use the facilities, leaving Kathryn and I alone for a while.
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