Wicked Weaves (17 page)

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Authors: Joyce Lavene,Jim

BOOK: Wicked Weaves
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I totally lost it with that statement. “This is
not
the Middle Ages. The Middle Ages were between 1000 and 1450. The Renaissance came
after
the Middle Ages. I can’t believe you don’t know that!”
“I can’t believe you bothered
telling
me. They all look the same to me. If you see one group of peasants riding horses, you’ve seen them all.”
“Tony, peasants don’t ride horses. Haven’t you learned anything being here?”
“That my sister is a crazy history person? Yeah, I’ve learned that.”
We stood facing each other, and I thought again about how different we were. I’m not sure the doctor knew what he was talking about when he said we were twins. How could that be possible when we’re so different?
“Why are you here, anyway?” I stopped staring at him and started straightening up the baskets around the room.
“I’m getting ready to leave with Tammy. I wanted to say good-bye.”
“You’re
really
leaving?”
He smiled and grabbed my hand. “Come with us. There’s more to the world than this place, Jess. We can have some fun.”
“You forget; I come here for fun every summer. I have a job the rest of the year. This
is
a fun time for me.”
“Okay. I’ll call when I can. We’re taking Tammy’s car to Vegas. Maybe you can come out sometime and visit.” He hugged me, and I closed my eyes. I couldn’t pretend I wouldn’t miss him, even though he was always a problem.
“Be careful out there. They do mean stuff to cheaters.”
He pushed away from me. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t know. You’ve always cheated at Monopoly. I thought you might cheat at cards. They’re experts out there at catching card cheaters.”
“Thanks for spoiling the nostalgic mood, Sis. I guess I’ve always known what you think of me. Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”
I watched him slam out of the shop, sorry I’d said anything. He was right. I’d spoiled one of the few bonding moments we’d ever had. I don’t know why we aren’t closer, since we’re the only family we’ve got, but that’s the way it seems to be. People at the Village thought we were close. The truth was, we might be closer with him in Las Vegas.
With that depressing thought, I closed and locked both doors into Wicked Weaves and walked toward the castle, hoping to see Chase and Mary. The tide of people was flooding that way down the cobblestone street. Jack Be Nimble was hopping that way but took the time to stop and ask how I was doing. He was another summer love affair. But that was a long time ago.
Mother Goose was hurrying toward the castle with her bird. I asked her if she’d seen Chase or Mary. She said she hadn’t seen either one of them but would tell them I was looking for them if she did.
I would’ve scurried along with her to the castle, but I wanted to stop and test Tony’s theory. I figured the Three Pigs Barbecue would be as good a place as any. It looked like it was closed already; probably taking barbecue to the castle.
I glanced around, and no one seemed to be looking my way. Everyone was intent on what they were doing. I took the key Tony had given me out of my pocket and tried to open the Three Pigs’ door.
Just as I got the key in, one of the pigs came out with a surprised look on his pudgy face. These guys weren’t cast; they owned the place. All the brothers had a distinctly porcine look to their faces. “What are you doing?”
“I was wondering if you were gone already.” I tried to laugh it off. “I’ve had a craving for barbecue all day.”
He glanced at me. “You’ll have to get it at the castle. We’re closed.”
I thanked him, wishing I could remember any of their names or tell them apart. I hurried away, embarrassed to be caught trying to break into the diner. But I’d found out Tony was right. There
was
a master key. Who else knew that? I was going to have to ask Chase about it, if I ever saw him again.
The closer I got to the castle, the more congested the King’s Highway became. There were hundreds of visitors waiting in line to get inside and hundreds of vendors from the Village waiting in line to take their stuff inside. It was total chaos, even though Roger Trent was trying to organize everyone with a list on a scroll.
“My jerkin for a Palm Pilot,” the glass blower growled as I came closer. “This gets worse every year. We might have to do it more often or not at all.”
“Can I help?” I don’t know exactly what made me volunteer. I guess I felt sorry for him, and I knew I wanted to apprentice with him in the future.
“If you could organize the rabble, I can deal with the visitors.”
He handed me a list and a quill pen, then pointed me toward the vendors who I assumed must be the rabble. I got to the front of the line and started crossing off names. “The Feathered Shaft; the Hands of Time; the King’s Tarts; Lady Godiva; Merlin and his apprentice; Honey and Herb Shoppe; Harriet’s Hat House.”
It read like a Who’s Who of the Village. Most of the people I knew. They’d been there since the Village had opened. Some were new. Businesses closed and opened every few years. Maybe not so much here as in the real world. Most of the people who came here stayed because they fit into their strange surroundings.
The Three Pigs checked in with the head pig, the one who’d greeted me at the door, growling as he went by. The barbecue they carried in a white wheelbarrow smelled good. I smiled and passed them through.
Little Bo Peep came through with one fake sheep. It was actually a puppet, since they’d banned her real sheep from the castle after an accident a couple of years back. Now the only real animals allowed in the castle were the horses used for jousting.
A troupe of minstrels bowed to me as I checked them in. They were resplendent in gold and blue silk. I hoped they knew what they were doing. There was an ancient rule about out-dressing the king, queen, or any of the court that was established here as well. Anyone dressed grander than their betters could be asked to wear a flour sack the rest of the evening. It hadn’t happened to me, but I’d seen it happen to others. There was a protocol, crazy as it was. It had to be observed.
I looked up from my thoughts to check in the next person, dragon, or fairy, and stared into Abraham’s dark face. He was wearing a monk’s robe.
Twelve
Abraham broke into a sprint when he recognized me. I dropped my scroll and ran after him. “Someone with a radio, call Chase!”
“Get back here, Jessie! I need you.” Roger didn’t understand why I was leaving my post. I didn’t have time to explain.
For a semi-old guy, Abraham could really move. A professional football team could have used him. It had to be all that healthy living. He probably ate right and walked ten miles a day.
I kept sight of him through the crowd. The stream of people pushing into the castle was the only thing in my favor. If he wouldn’t have had to keep stopping for them, he would’ve lost me right away.
There was only one entrance into the castle. There were several exits, but that was because Harry and Livy were worried about people getting inside without paying for tickets. They probably wouldn’t have had any exits at all if the fire department hadn’t made them. But even Renaissance Faire Village wasn’t above the law.
There were several large turrets added on both sides of the castle last year. They flanked the great hall, which made up most of the castle space. Extensive work was done there each year to accommodate the growing numbers of visitors to the Village. There was balcony seating around the arena where the horses and knights competed.
It made the whole thing a little ungainly once you got inside. It didn’t look anything like a real castle in England or France. But the outside facade was enough for the visitors. Besides, they wanted someplace to eat their little chickens while they watched the bloodless show.
But back to getting into the castle. People were ushered into a long hall that divided at the end to allow for seating on both sides of the arena. At one end, like the head of the table, was where Livy and Harry held court. The other end was the massive kitchen where the food was prepared.
I skirted around the crowds of people jammed in, waiting to be seated. There was no sign of Abraham or his monk’s robe. There were no other monks in the crowd, which wasn’t unusual. Most people wanted to dress up for the occasion, and the event became a sea of lace, satin, and velvet. Of course there weren’t as many colors back in the days of the Renaissance, but historical accuracy can only go so far. I wouldn’t want to be the one to tell any of them their outfits didn’t fit in.
I caught sight of one of the handful of security guards who were specially hired for the feast. I tried to make him understand, but he blew me off. Probably thought I was a crazed troubadour. The bells were about to drive me crazy. They were bad enough when I wasn’t running.
I wished I could find Chase, but there was no sign of him. The chances were he wasn’t even at the castle yet. He always came to the feast late so he could make sure the Village was empty during that time.
I climbed up on a cask and surveyed the crowd. Not a brown monk’s hood among them. The security guard made me climb down when he saw me, even though I showed him my Village pass. There was nothing more I could do.
It was embarrassing to admit Abraham had eluded me. Maybe I wouldn’t say anything. On the other hand, he was wearing a robe. That strengthened my theory that it was him who attacked Ham. What were the odds he’d be wearing a stolen monk’s robe and our only witness said a monk was in the smithy with Ham?
My antics caught Livy’s attention, and she beckoned me to follow her courtiers. She’d changed her velvet for lighter evening apparel. Her dress was made of silver silk and embroidered with little blue butterflies. Her bright red hair was pushed way up on her head and had huge, fake silver clips in it. The effect wasn’t good on her overall. She looked like a big bug of some kind. Not the most flattering thing you can say about someone.
I nudged aside a few ladies-in-waiting to reach her and tell her what was happening. She needed to know why I couldn’t indulge her every whim this evening. Otherwise, I’d be there all night entertaining her. “Livy! I think I found the man who murdered the guy you found by the privy.”
She looked down at me. “Are you speaking to us, Troubadour?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” I bowed my head both to her and her position, even if it was only queen of sales. “I am speaking to you. You must release me from your entourage so that I may still find the murderous monk.”
She waved her hand at me as three ladies adjusted her gown so she could sit on her throne. “Troubadour, we are not amused by your actions. Sing us a pleasant song. Where is your lute?”
“Majesty, I do not play the lute.”
“A lute!” she called out. “This troubadour needs a lute.”
Several of them were shoved in my face. No doubt, all the lute-carrying members of the queen’s court were glad to let me have the honor. “I apologize, Your Majesty,” I tried again. What was wrong with this woman, anyway? “I cannot sing nor play the lute.”
Livy deigned to look at me again. It wasn’t a good thing. “How can you be a troubadour if you cannot sing or play the lute? Thou must be a false troubadour. Forsooth, we think you are a knave in troubadour’s clothing. Guard, take the knave away to the kitchen where she might serve dinner and learn her lesson.”
I’m as much into character as the next resident of the Village. But this was taking it too far. I knew Harry and Livy were absolute monarchs at the feast. If they said go to the kitchen, you went to the kitchen. I needed an opportunity to look around. The kitchen wasn’t going to allow me that freedom.
I grabbed the closest lute and started singing. I had no idea how to play the instrument, but I figured it couldn’t be much different than the guitar. I’d learned to play the guitar in high school along with half of my sophomore class. There was no better instrument for teenage angst than the guitar.
I hopped around a little and tried to be entertaining. Livy looked the other way, but Harry seemed to be amused.
Not one to miss an opportunity, I worked on entertaining him. Anything was better than the kitchen. Serving food to a few hundred half drunk lords and ladies was not my idea of a good time. Every plate was the same: one little chicken, one baked potato, one roll, and a boiled egg. That was as close as they could come to a Renaissance feast. Dessert was
plum
pudding with plums. Like I’d said, imperfect history.
King Harry was highly amused with my singing and dancing. I made sure to shake enough of my body to ring my bells. “Thou art entertaining, Troubadour. Come join our court.”
This didn’t sit well with Livy. “The troubadour is ours, sir. She will remain with us or be taken to the kitchen.”
Harry chuckled. “You forget yourself, my royal wife. We are king here. We say the troubadour stays.”
I felt like one of the little chickens. No one really wanted me, but I was cheap and fit on the plate without too much trouble. I didn’t dare say anything that might interrupt their royal argument.

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