Well Met(32)

“So.” Jamie raised his plastic cup in Mitch’s direction. “Too early for a beer?”

“Never too early, but I have two fights today, I should keep me wits about me.” He unsnapped a pewter tankard from the belt around his waist and pushed it across the bar toward Jamie. “I’ll take some water, though, if you don’t mind.”

Jamie filled the tankard, then pushed it across the bar to Mitch. He took it, saluted us, and sauntered away. I’d like to say I didn’t watch him walk away, but that would be a terrible lie. I had no idea backs even had that many muscles.

“So.” Stacey waved me to join her behind the bar. “Here’s where we live for the next six weekends. What do you think?”

I looked around from the canopy banners waving in the light breeze to the tables that would soon be filled with customers to the hip-height boxes filled with ice and chilled beverages. “I love it.” I’d never meant something so much in my life. After all, I’d tended bar before. I’d waited tables. But doing it in the fresh air, with the sights and sounds of a Renaissance faire coming to life around us? This was going to be fun.

Several hours later, I revised my definition of “fun.”

It had started slowly. The gate opened at ten in the morning, and not a lot of people immediately sprinted to the bar to start drinking that early. There were a few, of course, mostly dads who looked like they could use a beer already as they herded little girls in princess dresses. But for the first hour or so I looked around, feeling a little awkward. Maybe people didn’t drink much at these things? Maybe it was more about the music and the atmosphere, and getting that turkey leg or funnel cake?

But as the hour crept toward noon, the crowds picked up, and things got chaotic. Time passed in a blur of popping bottle caps. Of making change. Of grabbing a rag and wiping the bar down as it got wet from the bottles being hauled out of the cooler. I poured wine. I called orders to Jamie, who pulled beers at record speed. Somewhere in there, a band at a nearby stage started playing, guitar and fiddle and hand drums with a rhythm that echoed with a thud in my chest. The sound filtered toward us through the trees, not enough to hum along with a melody, but enough to serve as background music to my day.

Across from the tavern a crowd had started to gather on the benches lining the perimeter of a nearby field. I peered in that direction and could barely make out one of our cast standing in the middle, saying something to the patrons, but I was too far away to make out the words. I nudged Stacey.

“Beatrice, darling, what’s over there?” I had to admit, my accent was pretty damn good.

She followed my pointing finger, squinting like I did. “That’s the human chess match. Remember? We watched them rehearse.”

“Oh, the fighting?” I remembered now. The sword fighting that became fisticuffs. Simon flipping Mitch over his shoulder. Mitch winning the fight. The moment I’d first caught the full force of Simon’s smile.

“The fighting.” She nodded in confirmation. “There are two different matches today. We should try to watch one of them.”

I turned to her in confusion. She had to be kidding. “When on earth will we have time?”

“It slows down at certain times of the day, believe me.” She patted my arm. “We won’t be far off. If Jamie starts drowning in patrons we can come running back.”

“Yeah,” Jamie chimed in. His regular voice with its modern American accent suddenly sounded weird and flat against our faux-English lilts. “This isn’t my first rodeo. Since you’re new to all of this, you should definitely check out some of the shows when we slow down.”

After a little while, I started to see what they meant. People showed up to the tavern in waves. As shows finished, crowds would filter away from the stage area and flow our way. The main appeal seemed to be that they could take a drink to go, and wander the lanes with a beer in hand.

As one of those waves finally thinned out, I caught a flash of pink brocade out of the corner of my eye.

“Milady!” I bobbed a quick curtsy to my niece, then bent to grab a bottle of water from the cooler. Her cheeks were flushed—I didn’t want her getting overheated and keeling over on my watch. April would kill me.

She took the water gratefully and poured it into the glass bottle I’d gotten her for this very purpose. “I’m supposed to get you, actually.”

“Me? What on earth for?”

Cait nodded vigorously. Not something a well-bred Elizabethan lady would do. Ah, well, it was still the first day; she’d get used to it. “We need you at the jousting field.”

“Uh.” I looked in that direction, as though I could see that far. “Why? I know nothing about jousting.” If someone wanted me to get on a horse I was out of here. “My assigned place is here. You’re the one who’s supposed to float around.”

“I dunno. They just said I should come get you.” She came around the bar then and grabbed my arm.

“Okay. This isn’t period at all.” I dropped the accent as I pulled myself free.

“Come on! They’re waiting.”

I glanced over my shoulder at Jamie, who shrugged. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ve got it here. Stacey will be back from the bathroom soon; she can help me when the show gets out.”

I hated abandoning my post, but Caitlin looked like she was going to pop a blood vessel from stress, so I followed her out of the tavern. We tripped our way down the main lane that wound through the trees and led to the jousting field. In the distance cheers rang out for the knights on horseback, loud and sustained. “What are we doing? It sounds like the joust is almost over.” My heart pounded from our sprint across the grounds and a slight lack of oxygen.