The Jouster's Lance

by A. J. Marcus

The two knights and their seconds rode up to the royal box. The new jouster’s horse was slightly shorter than the white knight’s big palomino, but Diederik was easily a head taller in the saddle than John.

  Austin realized he was on the wrong side of the joust field. He was on the good guys’ side. He started walking over to the other end and was stopped so frequently, he nearly ran out of pretzels before he got in a good spot to watch the final minutes of the test of skills. The final test was hitting a target with a lance without being unhorsed by the bag of sand on the other end of the swinging boom. Diederik did it easily, whereas John had to duck to avoid the counterweight. The dark knight’s crowd roared their pleasure at the white knight’s awkward recovery, chanting “bad to the bone!” as John finished his run down the field. Moments later, the king announced the time for the next round of jousting, and the whole crowd cheered as the jousters galloped out of the arena.

  Within minutes, Austin was out of pretzels and on his way back to the main bakery to get more. He thought of how handsome Diederik was. He wondered if that was the man’s real name or a stage name like most of the cast used. Chipmunk would know. He knows everything that goes on at the fair.

  “Austin,” Sam, the manager of the bakery, called as he walked in. “Fill up and work the parade route. Once you’re done there, come back and close out for the day. You’re supposed to be over at the pirate shop by two thirty, so take off about two to get some lunch and relax a bit.”

  “Sounds good,” Austin replied. And at two, I can relax and watch the second joust.

  Chapter 5

  “Dale, I want you to ride in the parade today,” Max said, walking stiffly down the narrow alley behind the jousting arena. “You’re the new guy, so this weekend, you get both parades. It will show you off to the public. Starting next week, you and John will alternate depending on which one of you is scheduled to win the final joust.”

  Dale nodded as he finished brushing Champion. “Where does the parade form up around here?”

  “Over behind the shops just west of the main office,” Max replied. “You’ll come out next to the ATM by the food area. On a horse, it’s a fairly easy ride. On foot… well, it’s Colorado and hilly.”

  The jouster chuckled. “I’ve noticed that.” He’d spent a couple of days, during his free time from learning the troupe’s routines, walking the fairgrounds, getting used to the elevation. Even as good a shape as he was in, the terrain was murder at first. He understood why folks joked about needing oxygen to get from the participant parking lot to the far end of the fair.

  Max nodded. “Parade starts in about thirty minutes. You’ve got time for a quick bite if you want something.”

  “Come on, Dale,” said John the Bold, whose real name was John Bishop. “The cast kitchen should have lunch going. I heard they were doing a really awesome lasagna today.”

  Dale put Champion’s last hoof down and gave the big gray horse a treat. “Sounds good.” He led the horse to the corral and let him loose.

  “You know you don’t have to do all that yourself,” John said. He leaned against one of the big pine trees that bordered the corral. “That’s what the squires are for.”

  “I always like to make sure he’s all right after a joust,” Dale replied, dropping his hoof pick in the grooming bucket. The casual disregard John and the other jousters showed for their horses bothered him, but he was new and didn’t want to cause any problems.

  “Just thought I’d mention it in case you have to hurry off for your adoring fans sometime after a performance.” John straightened up. “Now, let’s go get a bite to eat.”

  John led the way to the cast kitchen. Several of the royal court sat around under an awning. They got their plates before John angled them over to a table full of fancy-dressed women.

  “Is there room for two more?” he asked even as he pulled out a wellused folding chair to seat himself before they answered.

  “Oh, Sir John, you are always welcome at our table,” one of the women replied, then giggled into her pale-blue-gloved hand. Several of the other women also giggled at what Dale suspected was the ladies of the court’s inside joke at John’s expense. John seemed not to notice as he picked up his fork. Dale eased himself into the chair beside him.

  “Ladies, if I may introduce our new dark knight to you,” John said as he crossed himself in silent prayer before he put a fork full of cheesy pasta into his mouth.

  “Please do, Sir John,” the woman who’d spoken before said, turning her blue gaze to Dale. “We saw his first performance and were quite impressed. Weren’t we, ladies?” The other women at the table agreed with a series of nods and “oh yeses.”

  “Then I present to you Sir Diederik, Dark Duke of Denmark, also known as Dale O’Toole. Dale, may I present about half of the ladies of the court.” He gestured with his fork. “The mouthy one over there is the Lady Catherine, the shy one with the beautiful blonde locks is Lady Melody, the lovely in dark green is Lady Jocelyn, and the fair Lady Sierra sits next to you.”

  Dale bowed over his food to each of them. “It is a pleasure to meet you all. Please be patient with me while I learn everyone’s names.”

  Lady Catherine smiled at him. “It is our pleasure to meet you, Sir Diederik, and please call me Cat.” There was something predatory in her smile. “I would like the opportunity to get to know you better. Perhaps this afternoon after the second joust, you would accompany me around the fair for a bit.”

  Dale knew the cast members, including the jousters, were expected to circulate through the fairgrounds between performances. He actually enjoyed getting out and meeting his fans. It wasn’t unusual for him to have one of the court ladies on his arm while he moved about. Maybe Cat would be a good source of information about how the cast here worked. He could always find Chip later and compare notes with the fair busybody.

  “I’d love to escort you around the fair,” he said with a smile.

  “Lovely.” Catherine returned his smile. “Then I shall find thee about two forty-five at the corral. Now, ladies, I do believe we need to move on so we can escort the queen from her lunch to the parade.” Catherine rose in a swirl of dark blue, and the other ladies followed suit. As they moved away from the table, she turned back toward Dale. “Until later.”

  John laughed in between bites. “You better watch out for that one. She goes after every new man in court. It’s said she has separate carvings on her bed frame for each rank. She’s particularly fond of jousters and kings.”

  Dale knew women like that at every fair he’d been to. Most of them became good friends once he’d fended them off a time or two.

  “So how is she?” he asked, wanting to make it sound to John like he might be interested.

  John shrugged his large shoulders. “Wouldn’t know. I’m saving myself for my wife.”

  Dale studied the man. There were no signs of youth on him, but there wasn’t any gray in the light-blond beard and hair. The other jouster might be in his early thirties. Celibacy was an odd thing on the Renfair circuit, particularly in someone past their teens.

  “And does she know you’re waiting on her?” he asked, attempting not to sound amazed.

  John smiled. “She does. We are to be married at the end of fair. We decided to make a huge production of it the final day. We’ve been engaged for three years.”

  “Wow, three years is a long engagement,” Dale replied, trying to think if he’d ever known anybody else who’d had such an extensive engagement.

  “Marriage is a sacred institution, not to be entered into lightly,” John said as he finished off his lunch. “Marissa and I decided to wait and make sure we were the right ones. We will be together for the rest of our lives. One man and one woman bound together for eternity, the way God decreed back in the Garden of Eden.” Dale suppressed a shudder.

  “Fifteen minutes until parade!” someone shouted from the outskirts of the awning to alert the participants of the impending event.

  “Well, goo
d for you,” Dale said. He rose from the table, knowing here was a fellow actor who would not respond well to him being gay. “I need to go get Champion ready.”

  “Have fun in the parade,” John said, not bothering to get out of his seat.

  Dale found his place in the parade lineup. Champion had eyed the elephant with suspicion but walked past the huge beast to reach their spot behind the royal carriage, alongside William, the Earl of Canterbury.

  “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to make it on time,” William said coolly.

  “Sorry about that,” Dale replied. He didn’t want to explain he’d had trouble finding Champion’s dress tack. The flowing black cloth with the red trim and matching reins hadn’t been where he’d thought they should be. It had taken him five minutes to find them in the horse trailer after he’d been sure he’d unloaded them. Luckily, Champion was a good sport about being hastily outfitted in the parade finery that went over his light saddle and other tack. They’d made it with seconds to spare.

  At the head of the parade, the huge wooden gates that blocked the public’s view to the mundane world behind the medieval façade opened. Trumpets blared. A herald shouted, “Make way for the royal parade!” and the procession moved out into the main lane and began to circle the fair.

  Dale slipped into his Diederik persona as Champion stepped out into the crowd of people lining the shop fronts along the route. Cameras flashed as the parade progressed. People shouted “God save the king!” One person even held up a tablet PC of some kind to take pictures of the spectacle going past.

  Diederik smiled and waved at the crowd. When folks started chanting “bad to the bone,” he pumped his arm in support and they cheered even louder. The trumpets blared from time to time in front of him, and the herald continued to call for folks to make way for the parade.

  Trailing the jousters in the line, a group of drummers beat a loud, quick rhythm that thrummed through Dale’s Celtic heart. There was something about Celtic music that always brought a tingle, making him wonder about ancestral knowledge.

  Suddenly something struck Champion’s flank, causing the big horse to rear. The crowd cheered as Diederik clung to the saddle’s pommel to keep his seat. They thought it was part of his act. Champion whinnied as he came down and turned toward whatever had hit him. Diederik was happy the large gelding hadn’t taken off through the crowd, but he’d trained the horse better than that.

  Sprawled in the lane behind the horse, a tall man in a pirate’s hat, his long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, looked up at the jouster, horror written on his handsome face. For a moment, seeing the long dark hair, Diederik wondered if this was the same man who had cut him off when he’d driven into the fair for the first time.

  The parade bunched up behind them as the jouster and the horse glared down at the man, who used the empty pretzel pole to stand up.

  “I’m so sorry, m’lord,” the man stammered as he stared at the ground and backed his way into the crowd.

  Diederik didn’t know what to say. He’d never had something like this happen before. He wanted to get off and look over Champion, to make sure the horse hadn’t been injured by the pretzel pole, but that would interfere with the parade. Sighing, he nudged the big horse forward to catch up to the rest of the parade, which was turning a corner, traveling up the hill. He hoped he never crossed paths with the clumsy pretzel boy again. The man had come close to embarrassing him and the cast on his first day, and if Champion had charged through the crowd, it could’ve been disastrous for patrons as well.

  Chapter 6

  Austin cleared the parade crowd and hurried back to the bakery. He didn’t know what he’d tripped on to fall into the parade like that. Luckily, he’d just sold the last pretzel and turned to see the new dark knight riding past him. The man was so incredibly handsome with his short black hair, nicely trimmed beard, and piercing hazel eyes. He’d been looking up into that face when he stumbled, or maybe someone behind him jostled him, but whatever had happened, he’d fallen into the path of the parade, and his pretzel pole must have hit the jouster’s horse. For a moment, as the great gray beast reared up, he’d been sure he was about to die. Then he’d had to look up as both horse and rider glared down at him. Something in him snapped at that moment. He’d wanted to die under those huge iron-clad hooves.

  “Parade over so soon?” Sam asked as Austin rushed into the bakery’s back door.

  “Out of pretzels,” replied Austin.

  “Mustard too, I guess.” Sam pointed toward his leg.

  Austin glanced down and saw a huge yellow stain covering the front of the black pants. They were the only ones he’d brought with him. Could this day get any worse?

  “Sam, I’m sorry, I took a fall,” he said. “At least I was out of pretzels when I did.”

  Sam shook his head dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve taken my share of falls carrying those things too. It’s a bit early, but why don’t you go ahead and break for the day? Tomorrow will be better.”

  Placing the pretzel pole by the door, where the next guy could find it, Austin nodded. “Thanks, Sam.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” the baker replied. “Why don’t you run across the lane and see if that new costume shop over there has something you can wear for the rest of the afternoon.”

  Austin hurried out and across the way. The shop Sam had indicated had been a pottery booth last year, but this year it held a large assortment of period and not-so-period clothing. He found a pair of black gauze pants that, while not exactly matching his costume, would get him through the rest of the afternoon and be cool to boot.

  The pirate shop was crowded as he ran in to change pants before heading to find something to eat. He knew he needed food, but nothing really sounded good after he’d totally wrecked his chances of getting to know the hot new jouster. Jasmine shot him a questioning look as he hurried past the counter toward the back room. He wondered for a moment if she’d already heard about his fall.

  “You know you left your cell phone on in your jeans,” she said, coming in as he was putting his belt on over the new pants.

  “Shit!” He snatched up his jeans and fumbled for his cell phone. He hoped Phillip wasn’t too pissed about the phone ringing for several hours. He flipped it open.

  “So what happened to you?” Jasmine asked, glancing over her shoulder into the shop. “Did some kid attack you with your mustard bottle?”

  Rick had been calling all morning. It looked like he’d left a message every other time he called.

  Austin glanced up at the clock as he hurried past her. “Jas, I’ll tell you all the gory details on the way home tonight, I promise. Right now I need something to eat. Be back in ten to fifteen to relieve you.”

  “I could use some help up here!” Philip shouted from the counter, forcing Jasmine to head toward him instead of following Austin out into the crowd.

  The first few messages from Rick were the basic “where are you” type. Then they got more demanding. Austin stood there listening to them while waiting in line for a steak on a stake with fries. He knew he should call his boyfriend back, but right then he didn’t want to deal with the drama. Rick had obviously forgotten he was working this weekend, but that was Rick’s pattern: anything he didn’t want to remember, he didn’t. It was one of several reasons that Austin had been hoping he would just go away with as little drama as possible. From the tone of the last two messages, there was going to be drama aplenty when he got home. He could hope Rick was passed-out drunk when he got home and stayed that way until Monday morning, so he could deal with the whole thing Monday evening when he got home from the printshop he worked at during the week.

  “Hey, man, that was some fall you took,” Chipmunk said from behind him as the serving wench handed him his food.

  Austin turned and looked at him. “Don’t tell me, everyone’s talking about it.”

  Chipmunk chuckled. “Okay, I won’t tell you. And man, did you piss off Dale!”


  Austin shrugged. “Who’s Dale?”

  “Dale O’Toole, Diederik, the Dark Duke of Denmark,” his friend replied. “Folks are actually talking more about that than your fall. After the parade he went over his horse with a fine-tooth comb. That is his horse, by the way, not one of the fair’s. He’s very protective of them. He didn’t find anything wrong, but he was mad you made his horse rear up like that.”

  The steak on a stake lost all its flavor on Austin’s second bite. Not only had he pissed off the hot new jouster, but it was the talk of the fair. He wanted to slink under the nearest rock and wait until August to come out.

  “I guess I should find some way to apologize,” he mumbled, dumping his untouched fries in the nearest trash can.

  “I’d wait a couple of days,” Chipmunk said. “Dale’s a great guy, but something tells me it may take him a while to cool down from this.”

  The phone on his belt vibrated; he’d turned the ringer off before checking the messages. He glanced at the display. Rick. Not feeling like any more drama at the moment and needing to get back to the pirate shop, Austin hit the button to ignore the call.

  “Thanks for the info, Chipmunk,” Austin said glumly. “I need to get to the shop and relieve Jas.”

  Chipmunk waved. “If I hear anything more, I’ll let you know.”

  With a heavy heart and heavy feet, Austin waved back. Please let the afternoon get better, please.

  Chapter 7

  Lady Catherine waited for Dale as he finished grooming Pyre. He’d opted to ride Pyre since Champion was still a touch jumpy after being hit by the pretzel pole. One of the basic rules he followed was never to joust on a jumpy horse if he could at all help it. That was one of the biggest reasons he had two horses.

  Dale brushed his hands together, knocking off the dust after he released Pyre into the corral.

  “You have beautiful horses,” Catherine said as she fell into step with Dale.