Chapter Text
Sitting behind the money table, Jedediah glanced at his phone and gave a huff of impatience. Only fifteen minutes ‘til three o’clock. He still had ten minutes before his boss, McPhee, would let him go on break.
Jedediah looked around the tent. It was filled with renaissance-style clothing made by McPhee’s company. He ran an online store for period clothing, and during the summer months he went around the state selling his wares.
This was Jedediah’s first summer working at a faire, let alone with McPhee. They were already at the second faire of the summer--Clarksville--and despite the faire itself being situated on a plain of long dead grass, Jedediah’s enthusiasm, much like the unbearable heat, hadn’t wavered. McPhee could be a bit much at times, though.
His eyes roamed over to where Rebecca Hutman, a young woman who was also working for McPhee this summer, was helping a customer pick out a dress. Rebecca pointed to a midnight-blue silk gown, but the woman shook her head emphatically and reached toward a garish orange one.
Too bad, Jedediah mused. The blue dress would’ve been most becoming on her.
A figure stepped into Jedediah’s line of sight.
“Excuse me?” his boss said, exasperated. “Jedediah, your mind is wandering again. Put these shirts out, if you will.” McPhee handed him a stack of men’s shirts.
Jedediah took the clothing and came out from behind the table. He laid the replacements out while refolding some untidy garments along the way.
It’s got to be time now, Jedediah thought as he laid out the last shirt. “May I leave now, sir?” Jedediah asked in his mock-English accent.
(Texas wasn’t around during the Renaissance, McPhee had told him his first day.)
“Oh!” McPhee looked up from his sales record book. “Of course. Come back by 4:15.”
Jedediah was walking away before McPhee finished speaking. He exited the stifling tent into the crowds of the faire. Jedediah made his way through the masses toward the jousting field. He’d only been able to catch one of the jousting demonstrations at the last faire, and he was anxious to see another. Especially as the same group would be performing.
Specifically because the same group would be performing.
Jedediah took a seat on the bottom row of the bleachers which were, thankfully, shaded by a canopy.
A large, blonde woman dressed as a wench was talking to the crowd. “Buy a favor! Show your support for your favorite knight!” She waved about a metal ring decorated with colorful braided ribbons. “I have the green and yellow of England’s Sir Lancelot, the blue and white of France’s Lady Amélie, the purple and black of Germany’s Sir Konstantin, and the black and red of Spain’s Sir Octavio! What will it be? Show your support for your knight for only one dollar! And, as you are sitting in the Spanish section of the bleachers, why don’t you buy Sir Octavio’s favor and show him your support?”
Jedediah’s head whipped up. Octavio! He is riding today!
The woman selling favors took notice of this. “Ah, you must be a fan of the Sir Octavio! Tell me, young man, will you show your support for your knight and country?”
Your knight. The woman’s words echoed in his head.
“I—yes.” Jedediah bent down and pulled a dollar out of his boot.
The woman took his money and handed him a red and black favor. “Here you go, sir.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Octavio is a hottie, isn’t he?”
Jedediah could feel a blush slowly spreading across his face.
She winked at him before going back to selling favors.
Turning back, Jedediah regained his seat if not his composure.
Jedediah surveyed the filed. The knights were nowhere to be seem, but they must’ve been about to start because a man was going from section to section stirring up the crowd. The man sauntered toward the Spanish section from across the field. He wore dark trousers and an unbuttoned floral vest that exposed golden skin. The scarves tucked in the back of his belt swished hypnotically back and forth with the swaying of his hips as he walked. His eyes were heavily outlined with kohl giving him a wide-eyed expression like he’d just had an other-worldy experience or perhaps three espressos straight.
The man stopped in front of the bleachers and gave them a dazzling smile. He spread his arms in a welcoming gesture when he began speaking. “Are you ready to cheer on your country?”
There were a few murmurs of assent. Jedediah huzzahed.
The man put a hand to his ear. “I’m sorry, what was that? Give me a huzzah!”
“Huzzah!” Jedediah raised a fist into the air as he cheered.
The man pointed at him. “Everyone do it like him! One more time, people!”
The whole crowd cheered this time satisfying the man. He picked up a microphone from a stand before heading out into the field.
This is it!
“Ladies and gentlemen! Wenches and lads! And everyone in between! I am Ahkmenrah, and I am here to direct Her Majesty’s Tournament and Joust! Who’s ready?”
The crowd cheered.
Ahkmenrah smiled. “That’s good! Keep that up for here come Merenkahre’s Knights!”
The first two knights to enter the field were a young man and a knight on horseback bearing the green and yellow of England.
Ahkmenrah confirmed this. “Fighting for England today we have Sir Lancelot”--the man on horseback waved—“and Sir Nicholas!”
The English section began cheering. Jedediah distinctly thought he heard a man yell, “Go Nicky!”
“Next we have Lady Amélie and Sir Corneille fighting for France!”
The redhead on the horse waved to the crowd. Corneille planted the blue and white French standard in the ground before blowing a kiss to the French section.
Jedediah bounced his leg. Where is he?
Another couple took to the field. They sported the purple and black of Germany.
“Fighting for Germany, I give you Sir Konstantin and Sir Thorben!”
The knight on horseback gave a solemn nod while his older companion waved.
“And last, but certainly not least, here are the Spanish knights—Sir Octavio and Lady Serefina!”
Jedediah cheered along with the rest of the Spanish section as a man on horseback and a woman on foot entered the field bedecked in the black and red of Spain. They stopped in front of their respective section.
Jedediah’s heart was pounding, and it had nothing to do with the rowdy people around him. The handsome, dark-haired knight was smiling as if their applause had put the sun in the sky. His eyes, though, roved the crowd as if he was looking for someone he wasn’t sure would be there until—
His gaze landed on Jedediah.
Jedediah’s breath caught in his throat. Holy cow, his eyes are gorgeous. But why--why’s he looking at me? Jedediah, you need to look away before he thinks you’re a creep.
But he didn’t have to. Octavio broke eye contact to say something to his partner.
Before Jedediah could contemplate what that was all about, Ahkmenrah was back. “Your attention, please, ladies and gentlemen! Our lovely knights whom are riding horseback today will now take part in a friendly competition. They will ride around the perimeter of the field and attempt to collect the four hoops.” He gestured to either side of the field where four six-inch hoops could be seen hanging from poles in front of each section. “Each hoop is worth one point. Whoever has the most points at the end is the winner! The first to ride is Sir Lancelot!”
Lancelot was at the far end of the field with his lance at the ready. He spurred his horse into action collecting only the first and second hoops.
“Good job, Sir Lancelot!” Ahkmenrah said over the cheering of the England’s supporters. “Up next, Lady Amélie!”
The redhead rode steadily to the cheers of her fans collecting one . . . two . . . three hoops. A groan escaped the crowd when she missed the last ring.
Jedediah let out his breath. He’d been sure she’d get the last one; Amélie handled her horse like she’d been born in the saddle.
Captivated, Ahkmenrah exclaimed, “Well done, Lady Amélie! Sir Konstantin, do you think you can do better?”
From the stands, Jedediah could tell that the knight had replied, but he hadn’t heard what it was due to the chant of “Germany! Germany!” coming from his supporters.
Konstantin began his circuit. He claimed one . . . two . . . three . . .
Please miss, please miss, please miss.
. . . four hoops.
Jedediah threw up his hands in exasperation.
“Well done, Sir Konstantin!” Ahkmenrah congratulated him. “Don’t get too cozy with your lead, though. Next up, Sir Octavio!”
The Spanish section started chanting with the encouragement of the blonde woman who had been selling favors, “Spain! Spain! Spain!”
Perched on the edge of his seat, Jedediah watched Octavio collect the first and second hoops.
He kept chanting.
Octavio continued his circuit. He claimed the third ring . . .
"Spain! Spain! Spain!"
. . . as well as the fourth.
“Yes!” Jedediah pumped his first in the air as the crowd around him cheered.
After that, all of Merenkahre’s knights fought on foot. Konstantin and Octavio were pitted against each other since they had tied in the first competition. Much to Jedediah’s delight, Octavio bested his opponent in sword play, though, during the jousting on horseback afterwards, he lost to Amélie.
At the end of the demonstration, Ahkmenrah announced that the knights would be hanging around to answer any questions that the audience may have.
Jedediah left the bleachers and strode over to where the knights had gathered.
You can do this, Jedediah reassured himself. Just tell him that you enjoyed the show, and you’d like to buy him a drink. Something like that.
He waited patiently for a few people to leave before approaching Octavio.
“H-hello.” Jedediah raised a tentative hand in greeting.
The handsome young man smiled at him. “Hello. Did you enjoy the show?”
“Yes!” he answered a little too eagerly. “I caught the show back in Brookden too.”
“Oh, really? I thought I recognized you.”
Jedediah’s heart skipped a beat. He recognized me?
Octavio was still talking. “Are you working here then? Or do you make a point of following Ren Faires from one location to the next?”
Jedediah wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers surreptitiously while replying. “I--um, the first one. I’m at the Royal Weaver.”
Octavio opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by a lisping voice.
“Why, hello there. Aren’t you cute?”
Dueling thoughts shot through Jedediah’s head simultaneously. The first was “Wow, Konstatin is quite a bit taller than he seemed when out on the field,” and the other was “Did he just call me 'cute'?”
“Hello, Konstantin,” Octavio greeted him not sounding pleased.
Konstantin didn’t bother to respond to his fellow knight. He, instead, spoke to Jedediah. “What’s your name, darling?”
He was still reeling from being called “cute,” but Jedediah answered anyway. “Jedediah Smith.”
“Did I hear you’re working at the faire? I do hope we’ll be seeing more of each other.”
Jedediah did not not share his hopes. “I don’t think—“
“Oh, c’mon.” The older man pouted. “I’ll get out of this fatiguing armor and buy you a drink.”
Catching the attention of the German knight was not part of Jedediha’s plan, and he was not prepared to save himself from his unwanted advances. Octavio pulled Konstantin’s attention away from Jedediah, which, frankly, only made things go from bad to worse.
“Konstantin!” Octavio hissed. “Can’t you see your making him uncomfortable?”
The other knight rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a mother hen, Octavio.”
Octavio bristled, his hands clenched into fists.
Eyes narrowed, Konstantin stared at Octavio, silently daring him to make a move.
A trickle of sweat rolled down Jedediah’s back. What is up with these two?
Suddenly, a smile broke out across Octavio’s face. An older man (Sir Thorben, if Jedediah remembered correctly) had walked up behind Konstantin during the face off.
“Hello, Sir Thorben.”
Thorben nodded his head at Octavio. “Konstantin, I need to talk to you.”
He then turned around and walked off.
After winking at Jedediah, Konstantin followed.
Jedediah watched him go with a sickening feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. The faire wasn’t that big; they were sure to run into one another again.
Then again, that meant that he’d probably run into Octavio too if fate was with him.
Octavio spoke once Konstantin was out of earshot. “Sorry about that. Konstantin’s a massive flirt and couldn’t take a hint if it slapped him across the face.” He paused thoughtfully for a second. “He did get slapped once. It took him a couple of days to register it.”
Jedediah laughed causing the dark-haired man to smile.
"Can I buy you drink, Octavio? I’ve still got awhile before McPhee expects me back.”
The knight shook his head sadly. “I really should go now,” he told Jedediah. “I need to help Serafina get ol’ Rexy groomed and such.”
Crestfallen, Jedediah hunched his shoulders. “I understand.”
Octavio tilted his head. “Would you be willing to watch the special performance at the High Sea’s Stage with me tonight instead? It’s going to be Pirates: A Professional Production.”
Jedediah was taken by surprise and spoke without thinking. “Are you asking me out, Laredo?”
The knight held up his hands. “Yes, if you want to. No, you if don’t.”
Jedediah pretended to be contemplating this decision. Of course he’d say yes, but he didn’t want to seem too eager. “When does the show start?”
Octavio’s face lit up like it had before the demonstration. “Nine o’clock.”
Jedediah grinned. “I’ll see you there.”