Saturday November 23, 2013
Marion County Renaissance Fair- Jousting Grounds
Indianapolis, IN
2:36 PM Local Time
Daniel Pollaski leaned against the fence, and stared across the jousting arena, where a steady trickle of fans were filling in the ‘commoners stands’, although across the way, the grand dais arranged for the costumed royalty remained empty, still awaiting the procession that would fill it. He was looking forward to watching the event, although probably not nearly as impatient for it as the person sitting next to him.
“What time is it?” Theresa Thompson whined, sitting atop the fence and swinging her legs back and forth. “We’ve been waiting for HOURS.”
Rolling his eyes, Pollaski glanced at his watch. “Two thirty-seven,” he said, trying to keep the exasperation out of his tone.
“The last time you said it was two thirty-five!” Theresa moaned.
“That’s because you asked two minutes ago. And three minutes before that. And four minutes before that. And two minutes before that… need I go on?”
“I’m bored!” Theresa complained, kicking her feet idly again. “Can’t I play Angry Birds on your phone?”
“No. I didn’t bring my phone in.”
“Why not?”
“Because its a RENAISSANCE FAIRE. They didn’t have Androids back then.” Pollaski sighed.
“They also didn’t have New Balance sneakers, I bet.” Theresa said, pointing down.
Pollaski looked down at his feet (he had to suck in his stomach and brown burlap robe in a bit), and sighed again, glancing at Theresa. “Touche.”
“I’m thirsty. Can I go get something to drink?”
“Yeah, fine, sure…” Pollaski said, reaching into a fold of his friar’s robe and pulling out his wallet, snickering softly at the irony of friar’s taking vows of poverty. He sorted through the bills inside, finally pulling out a five. He handed it to Theresa. “Stay in sight, alright? I’d rather not your mom kill me for losing you.”
“Alright. Thanks!” Theresa said, taking the money and bounding off, nearly tripping over her own princess dress as she ran to a nearby booth.
Pollaski looked up at the azure sky. The last twenty minutes notwithstanding, it had been a pretty good day so far. He’d always loved Renaissance festivals, ever since he was a kid. Wendy had gushed over all the historical lessons to be learned, and had pounded her daughter’s head over and over with bits of information on costumed historical figures as they had passed. Theresa had barely registered any of it, Pollaski had guessed, but she had enjoyed the jugglers and dancing bear and watching glass blowing. Even Terrence had enjoyed himself, although he had certainly grown more quiet and intense as the afternoon wore on, and the time of the joust neared.
Pollaski glanced over to check on Theresa, who stood out in her bright pink dress, still waiting in line for a beverage. He then scanned the crowd for the flame-red hair of his client. It was getting close to the appointed meeting time. Wendy had left them just after lunch to go do her photoshoot with Adam, and Terrence had parted just after two to go get ready to joust. Wendy was supposed to reappear at two forty-five to take Theresa to join the procession on the dais, leaving Pollaski all by himself to watch the show from here. At least it was a good view, he figured, looking back over at the jousting grounds.
Theresa returned soon after, holding a large wooden mug that she practically guzzled from. “Thirsty?” Pollaski asked, amused.
“Yup.” Theresa responded, drinking some more. “Want some?”
“Nah, I’m good. Better hurry up though, your mom should be coming back any minute, and then you’ll go watch the joust. Nervous about that?”
Theresa shook her head, the mug she was drinking from swaying back and forth. “Nope,” she said, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “Daddy’ll kick that stupid black knight’s fat butt.”
“I hope so,” Pollaski replied although inwardly he doubted it. Terrence had practiced for several weeks to learn how to joust, but from all accounts, this Brutus Cato guy had been doing it for years, even working at the Excalibur hotel in Vegas for a few years. It’d be a miracle if Terrence even survived a pass against him. He decided it best to change the subject. “So what’s been your favorite part of the fair so far?”
“The dancing bear.” Theresa replied immediately, but then shrugged. “Although I guess I also liked the glass blowing, and some of the singing. And it’s cool seeing people in costumes like that.” she gestured to one of the costumed historical impersonators, a young woman with long hair that was even redder than Wendy’s, and a crown on her head, as she walked by.
“Any idea who that is?” Pollaski quizzed the seven year old, not surprised in the least when she shook her head. “That’s Jane Grey. When she was sixteen, she became Queen of England for a whopping nine days.”
“Why only nine?” Theresa asked, hiccuping, then swigging from her mug again.
“Because then everyone decided they’d rather her aunt be queen instead. So they put Mary on the throne instead. Bummer, eh?”
“That would stink,” Theresa said. “To be queen and then find out no one wanted you? I’d be pretty sad.”
“Oh, she was very sad. Probably even more so when they chopped her head off.” Pollaski said, smirking as Theresa’s eyes went wide.
“Why did they do that?” the little girl asked, hiccuping again.
“Because when you play the game of thrones, you win or you die.”
“There’s no middle ground!” came a voice behind them, and Pollaski and Theresa turned to watch Terrence walking up to them. “Who got their head chopped off?”
“Jane Grey,” Theresa said, her voice muffled by her mug.
Terrence’s brow furrowed. “No she didn’t. She got washed away when the dam burst in the second movie, then came back as Phoenix. What’s that got to do with Game of Thrones, anyways?”
For a second, no one spoke, Pollaski’s mouth hanging open, not sure where he could even begin to correct his friend. Finally, he settled for just asking the obvious question. “Why are you here?”
Terrence’s mood darkened immediately, as if he was hoping Pollaski wouldn’t ask that. “They, ah, didn’t need me,” he said. “They found someone else.”
“But you’d been practicing for weeks!” Pollaski exclaimed, appalled. “What the heck?”
“Yeah, well, I went over there to get ready, and they said they had someone else ready to go,” Terrence said glumly. “I tried to protest, but they had none of it. They were about to call security to get me tossed out, and I relented.” He sighed. “Man, I was so going to make that Black Knight pay for…”
“I’m sorry, man,” Pollaski patted his friend on the shoulder sympathetically. “Ain’t right. Maybe they’ll let you do it next year.”
“Yeah, maybe…” Terrence sighed, and looked around. “Let’s just get the hell out of here. I’m done with this stupid fair. Where’s Wendy?”
Pollaski shrugged in response. “Haven’t seen her. We figured she’d show up before you did. She must have ran long with Adam.”
“Damn,” Terrence sighed, shaking his head. He then looked down at his daughter and her cup. “Mind if I have a sip, Terr-Bear? I’m thirsty.”
“Sure,” the seven year old acquiesced, handing her mug to Terrence, who tilted up to take a sip, then spat it back out onto the ground.
“WHY THE HELL ARE YOU DRINKING BEER?!” Terrence roared, glaring at Pollaski as he began to choke on his own saliva.
“Because they didn’t have any Sprite!” Theresa chipped indignantly. “It’s fine, dad. The man selling it said that kids drank this all the time back in the middle ages.”
“Yeah, well, they also died of the bubonic plague before they were ten too. Should I get some rats to bite you?” Terrence said, dumping out what was left of the beer, an alarmingly small amount. “Jesus, Theresa. And what the hell, Pollaski?! You were supposed to be watching her!” He punctuated the rebuke by smacking the portly wrestler upside the head.
Pollaski opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a fanfare of trumpets blaring over the field. He looked over, and saw the procession beginning to climb onto the dais. He glanced over at Theresa with concern at how she’d take being left out, but the little girl was busy singing “The Itsy Bitsy Spider”... at the top of her lungs.
“I don’t see her anywhere,” Terrence sighed, glancing over at Pollaski in concern. “She’s not in the procession.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Pollaski responded. “She wouldn’t have gone up there without getting Theresa first.”
“Yeah,” Terrence grimaced, looking at his daughter. “Sorry, kiddo. Guess you’re watching the joust from here.” Theresa expressed her disappointment with a rumbling belch that Pollaski wasn’t certain he himself could imitate- which was saying something.
Another fanfare rang out, and a herald stepped forward in front of the platform where the king and queen of the faire sat. His voice rang across the jousting grounds, assisted by the decisively un-medieval like microphone he was holding.
“Hear ye, hear ye, hark, and welcome to the joust! Two brave knights are prepared to duel for your entertainment and for the honor of their chivalry!”
“SPEAK UP!” Theresa roared, her voice echoing across the grounds at the herald. Nearby, Terrence buried his face in his hands.
SUrprisingly, the herald obliged. “And now, please welcome the two brave souls willing to partake in this most noble and dangerous of competitions. I give you first… the champion of champions and unhorser of a thousand men… THE BLACK KNIGHT!”
The crowd booed as a man in dark armor rode onto the field, black pennant snapping from the end of his lance. Pollaski looked over and saw Terrence fuming, his teeth clenched, and his hands looking like they wanted to strangle something. Theresa, for her part, was booing at the top of her lungs.
“And now, his opponent, the brave challenger who will attempt to survive, let alone defeat, this master of the lance, I give you…. SIR ADAM!”
“Adam?!” Terrence barked as a fanfare trumpet blew, and a knight in armor so polished it was almost white came in on the other side. “That low down lousy two-timing son of a-”
“You sure it’s Grant?” Pollaski interjected, his brow furrowed in skepticism. The rider clearly had absolutely no clue what he was doing, considering the way the horse was dancing around, as if a sack of potatoes was tied to it. Then again… he strongly doubted that FFW’s webmaster was any kind of horseman, so maybe…
“Oh, I know it’s that bastard. He waylaid Wendy, took my spot, and now he’s going to-”
“KICK HIS BUTT, SIR ADAM!” Theresa bellowed, cutting her father off.
“What? NO! Don’t kick his butt! I want that asshole to get his butt kicked!”
“But, Dad! He nearly hit me with his car!” Theresa protested.
“Yeah, but this jackass screwed me out of a chance to avenge you myself.” Terrence shot back. “That’s way more important.”
“Oh,” Theresa blinking, her face more akin to one who had just had the theory of relativity explained to them. She cupped her hand over her mouth and screamed again. “GET YOUR BUTT KICKED, SIR ADAM!”
“Much better.” Terrence sighed.
Sir Adam was still have difficulties controlling the horse, but soon found a lance shoved in his hand as he approached the lists. Another fanfare sounded, and the black knight saluted his soon to be victim, while Sir Adam flailed helplessly in the saddle, then the two horses charged towards each other, the breath of nearly every spectator catching in their throats.
“Oh, this is gonna suck…” Pollaski said under his breath.
*CRUNCH!*
The crowd groaned as the Black Knight’s lance splintered from the impact, nearly sending his poor unfortunate opponent flying from the saddle, but Sir Adam somehow managed to hang on, although he looked even more like a sack of dead weight than before. The crowd erupted as the black knight cast aside the remains of his lance, his fist in the air in triumph.
“HA! That’s a point!” Terrence said vindictively as attendants shoved more lances into the combatants hand, preparing for another round. Another fanfare started as the horses turned to face each other.
“ENOUGH ALREADY WITH THE TRUMPETS!” Theresa screamed.
Again, the horses charged at each other, the crowd hushing so that the only sound was the clopping of hooves. Several members of the audience closed their eyes, lest they see the murder that was about to happen…
*CRU-*
*CRUNCH!*
The Black Knight’s lance exploded on Sir Adam’s helmet, the white armored figure going limp in the saddle. But Adam’s lance caught the Knight in the chest, and the crowd gasped as the dark armored figure went flying off the side of his horse, to pitch into the dirt.
“YEAH! Wait… NO!” Theresa cheered… then booed.
“Wow…” Was all Pollaski could say.
“But...but…” Terrence said, his mouth open in disbelief. “That was… my…”
The crowd was too busy cheering to notice that Sir Adam had finally fallen off his horse, clattering to the ground in a heap, or that the black knight was on his feet, an aura of unbridled rage permeating through his armor. The cheering crowd went silent as the Black Knight drew a sword, advancing on his downed opponent.
“Uh oh…” Terrence said, chuckling. “Guess FFW better find a new web master… serves the bastard right.”
“It does?” Said a voice from a few feet away as it approached the trio. Adam Grant gave them both a confused look as he looked from Terrence down to the fallen knight that they had been watching. “Did I do something and no one told me?”
“Yeah, you took Daddy’s place so now he can’t avenge the black knight for nearly running me over, you stupid jerk!” Theresa hissed angrily, before realizing the logic of what she just said.
Terrence turned beet red, scratching his head nervously, while Pollaski muttered “told you it was a different Adam.” Then he winced, as a rising Sir Adam took a sword hilt to the head, sending them sprawling, to the groans of the crowd.
Adam once more did a double take, looking from the small angry girl back to Terrence and then to Sir Adam on the field before them. His eyes squinted a bit as he tried to make sense of all this. “You sure you got the right Adam? I….wouldn’t ride a horse. Not even for cash.”
“Yeah… we’re just… ah… noticing that…” Terrence said, clearly chagrined. “Have you seen Wendy?”
“Last time I saw Wendy was when she went for a costume change. Then I had to go check in with Jestine about some things. I haven’t seen her since. Why? How do you lose Wendy? It’s not like she’s a set of car keys…” Adam answered, a beverage in his hand which he tilted up to his mouth as he awaited a response. “And why is me getting a new job being mentioned?”
“Well, ah, we thought that was you about to be killed out there. Sorry… mistaken identity, eh?” Terrence smiled apologetically.
Pollaski sighed. Terrence was right on one front, whoever was in the white armor was getting their ass handed to them. Even as he watched, the Black Knight battered them with the sword repeatedly, knocking them down, the crowd groaning with each hit. “Whoever it is, I bet you’re glad you’re not them, eh dude?”
“See, I wouldn’t even be on a horse. Much less in a joust!” Adam replied. “Though if I were to get on a horse, I’d probably end up like that Adam over there. Stupid basta….man.”
“Yeah,” Pollaski said as he watched the Black Knight grab a morning star and start twirling it. “Stupid.”
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