A Knight’s Tale

There’s a mediaeval re-enactment in this enchanting short story by Moira Gee.

This chivalrous Sir Stefan certainly had a charm about him . . .

GET off! Get off! Get away, you – ouch!” Hope suppressed a giggle at the extraordinary sight. It wasn’t every day you saw a knight in shining armour backing into a wheelie bin as he tried to escape from a wasp.

She raised her camera and caught the magical moment for ever.

The not-so-brave knight stopped mid-curse as he caught sight of Hope.

His face – what she could see of it under his raised visor – fell.

“It’s not time yet, is it? I haven’t had my lunch yet.” Hope was startled.

“Time? For what? Sorry, I don’t . . .”

“Oh, you’re not . . . Sorry, I thought you must be one of the others. That’s a relief.”

“The others?”

“It’s your dress. It makes you look a bit . . .” His voice trailed off.

“A bit what?” Hope asked, dismayed, looking down at her flowing pale yellow dress which floated around her ankles.

“Nothing! Honestly – you look lovely,” he said hastily. “It’s just that I thought you were dressed up for this re-enactment thing.”

“Oh. No. No, I’m not.” “I’m sorry. No offence,” he added quickly. “I didn’t mean . . .”

A smile found its way to Hope’s lips. She wasn’t offended.

There weren’t many people wearing long dresses apart from those who were in costume for the demonstrations.

In fact, if she were honest, being mistaken for one of the ladies from days of yore in the grounds of Stirling Castle was quite flattering.

“I wanted to wear something cool,” she explained.

“Huh! You’re lucky you’re not wearing this lot,” he grumbled, loosening some of his body armour to reveal a chain-mail vest underneath.

“Never again,” he muttered and then looked around guiltily, as if he might be overheard.

“Sorry, I suppose I should stay in character. I’m Sir Marcus of Stevenage.” He paused in the middle of a dramatic bow.

“Or is it Sir Stefan of . . . well, it doesn’t matter. Frankly, I could see it all far enough.”

“You’re not enjoying it much?” Hope chuckled.

“You noticed that?” He began to tug off his gauntlets. “I can’t believe some of these guys do this almost every weekend.”

As he bent to lift a battered rucksack from the ground, something seemed to occur to him.

He straightened up again with difficulty and looked apologetically at Hope.

“Actually – I don’t think you’re supposed to be round here. I mean, the public’s not.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise.” “I think you’re supposed to stay in front of these marquee things. This area’s for us get ready.”

He gestured to the piles of rucksacks and bags, boots and discarded clothes that were strewn across the ground.

“You know . . . we change here and have lunch. In fact, I’m starving and I don’t have long, so if you’ll excuse me . . .”

“Of course. Sorry I disturbed you.” Hope tapped the camera slung over her shoulder.

“I was just wandering – hoping to get some photos. There’s a competition I want to enter.”

“Cool. Plenty of scope here today.”

“Yes. I’ve seen a few unexpected things,” Hope admitted, wondering how he’d react if she confessed that he’d been the subject of her most recent snap.

He was rummaging through his rucksack but paused now and looked up at her.

“Would you like a sandwich?” he asked.

“Um . . .”

“I have plenty. There’s cheese and pickle or ham and tomato – I think.”

“You think?”

“My mum made them for me.” He gave a sheepish smile. “Even a knight needs his mum – especially when he’s fed up.”

This time she laughed out loud and Sir Stefan grinned good-naturedly.

“Honestly, you’ll be helping me out – she always makes too many.”

He lowered himself to the ground with difficulty and produced a sandwich box.

“Help yourself,” he said, and suddenly, accepting a cheese and pickle sandwich from a knight in the grounds of this magnificent mediaeval fortress seemed the most natural thing in the world.

She sat down opposite him and they ate in companionable silence until curiosity got the better of Hope.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why are you doing this since it’s clearly not your thing?”

“One of the guys broke his arm yesterday and they needed a stand-in.” He sighed heavily. “I wish I hadn’t bothered.”

“It was nice of you to help out,” Hope said. “Do you have to stay?” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I mean, couldn’t you sneak away early?”

“I’m tempted,” he admitted with a grimace, “but I can’t let them down.”

He found solace in another bite of sandwich. By the way he was wolfing them down, Hope was beginning to see why his mother made so many.

“So I’m guessing you won’t volunteer for anything like this again?” He shook his head.

“No point. She still doesn’t think –” He hesitated for a second and then confessed.

“The thing is, I was trying to prove something to – someone.”

“Ah.” Hope nodded.

She’d certainly been there and done that.

“What were you trying to prove?” she asked.

“That I’m more interesting than she thinks I am.” He shrugged his squeaking shoulders and looked a little sheepish.

“She’s a drama student and an artist. She’s always involved in something like this and her life’s filled with colour and activity.

“I think she thinks my job’s boring.”

He delved into his bag once more and pulled out a can of fizzy juice.

“Do you think it’s boring?” Hope asked.

“Well, it’s not the most exciting thing in the world.” “What is it that you do?” “I install security cameras and alarms, that sort of thing,” he said almost apologetically.

“I’d say that’s very useful.” Hope’s head tilted thoughtfully. “Doesn’t her theatre need security lighting?”

He paused just as he was about to open his can and grinned at her.

“That’s a good point. I bet she hasn’t thought of that.”

He opened the can and took a long swig.

“I needed that. I’m so hot in this get-up.”

“Steve? Steve, where are you?”

The shrill voice cut through the air and seconds later, an impatient young woman appeared round the corner of a tent and glared at Sir Stefan.

“There you are! What on earth are you doing?” she demanded.

Hope couldn’t help thinking this was a rather stupid question.

“I’m having lunch,” Sir Stefan – or Steve – replied, and by the stiffness in his voice, Hope reckoned he thought it was a stupid question, too.

“Well, you’ll have to have it later. I need your help,” the girl snapped. “Come on – quickly.”

She flounced out of sight. “Yes, I found him – he was skiving behind the marquee.” Her scornful tones could be heard all too clearly and Hope looked at her companion’s crestfallen face.

“She’s quite a charmer,” she murmured.

Sir Stefan avoided her eyes. Was it her imagination or did his face turn slightly red?

“Suppose I’d better get going,” he said gloomily, gathering up his gauntlets.

“Only four hours to go. Actually, it’s probably only three and three quarters now.”

His face brightened at the realisation and Hope couldn’t help smiling.

“It might not be so bad.” It seemed important to try to reassure him.

“Maybe not.” He grinned back at her. “Thanks anyway. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

“I will. And thanks for the sandwich.”

“You’re welcome. It was nice to have company.”

Was it her imagination or were they both reluctant to end their conversation?

“Come on, Steve! You said you’d help!” A familiar impatient shout came from the other side of the marquee.

“Well – bye. I’ll. . . I’ll have to go.”

“Sure. Um – bye.” Hope turned and walked away but couldn’t help looking back.

Sir Stefan was taking a last quick swig from his can.

The drink must have brought the wasps back because next second, he was once again swatting at the air around him.

She watched as he dropped the empty can into the bin and clanked crossly away between the marquees and out of sight.

She couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

True, most people would probably say he’d been a fool to lumber himself with a whole day of doing something he wasn’t interested in simply to impress someone who was even less interested in him!

But Hope wasn’t most people.

After all, what had been her real reason for making the trip here today?

She’d told herself that it was because she’d always loved Stirling Castle and she enjoyed re-enactment days like these.

Dad was a history teacher so Hope and her brother had been taken to lots of them while they were growing up.

She’d also told herself that when her friend Roxy went down with tonsillitis, leaving an already-paid-for space on the college minibus, it had seemed a shame to let it go to waste.

But neither of these was the real reason.

The real reason was

Geoff Warner.

Hope had loved Geoff Warner for the past year and a half of school and she’d been ecstatic when she’d discovered, soon after starting college, that he was studying at the same campus.

Strangely enough,

Were they both reluctant to end their conversation?

however, after all those months of yearning from afar, the hour-long minibus trip from Dundee to Stirling had been all it had taken to cure her of Geoff.

He’d looked in amusement at her dress, he’d complained about the bus, he’d made disparaging remarks about the trip and seemed determined to spoil the whole day.

Geoff couldn’t really be bothered coming on this trip, he drawled lazily. He was only filling in time until his trip to Las Vegas.

Geoff didn’t have to worry about studying really, or fret about exam results, he’d said.

His dad had a job ready and waiting for him in the family business, he assured those around him.

Geoff thought college was boring. He might not bother coming back from the States, he informed anyone and everyone who cared to listen.

That was when it occurred to Hope that, actually, she didn’t care to listen any longer. She was tired of listening to Geoff. She felt strangely bereft. How long had he occupied her every waking thought, her daydreams, her most private hopes and secret plans? Months. Many months.

And yet an hour in an enclosed space with him had opened her eyes to the kind of person

he really was.

Keeping a lookout for Geoff Warner had been an all-consuming part of her life for the past 20 months and now all she wanted to do was avoid him.

That might take even more effort, she acknowledged gloomily.

It would take twice as much energy to find out where he was heading and make sure she went somewhere else.

Consequently, she’d been feeling slightly ruffled when they arrived at the castle, which was why she’d headed off on her own.

But Hope had always loved castles and history and all things romantic, so it wasn’t long before she felt her enthusiasm for the day returning.

Of course, her brief encounter with an unwilling but good-natured knight had nothing to do with it.

****

It was a perfect day for a re-enactment and Hope made the most of it.

She went on a couple of the guided tours, admired the tapestries inside the baronial halls and watched battle demonstrations.

She took photographs of some of the people dressed up in costume and bought herself an ice-cream to enjoy while she took a break from walking.

Removing her sandals, she sat down on a grassy slope below the battlements and licked happily at her cone as she scrunched her tired toes into the sun-warmed grass.

Cleaning her fingers with a wet wipe, she picked up her camera once more.

Scanning the spectacular scene spread out below her, she searched for anything unusual or interesting which might provide her with the winning photograph in the upcoming competition.

There was always so much colour and life at these events and Hope smiled with the pure joy of being part of the day.

As she squinted through the telescopic lens, a familiar face suddenly entered her line of vision and she couldn’t help chuckling as she recognised a handsome but discontented Geoff Warner.

More than enough of Hope’s life had been wasted on him, so she moved the camera away, scanning for something more interesting.

A moment later, she recognised someone else – two people, in fact.

Sir Stefan was talking to that girl again – the one who’d been nagging him earlier.

Hope felt a twinge of disappointment. What did he see in her?

As she watched, she could tell that Miss Charmer was still treating Stefan with disdain.

It was also clear that she became extremely irritated when a small child wandered across her path.

She whisked her dress impatiently out of the way of his ice-lolly and strode past him, heading towards a couple of photographers from the local newspaper.

It was the hapless knight who paused, seeming to recognise something in the child’s demeanour.

Hope smiled as she saw how kindly he talked to the little boy.

The child’s mother stood nearby as the two of them pointed this way and that, chatting about their surroundings.

Then, Sir Stefan let him pull on his gloves and try to lift his heavy sword. Even from so far away, Hope could see the delight on the child’s face.

Together, the knight and the child stood triumphantly on a huge rock, their enlarged shadows stretching up the tower behind them.

Each of them struck a dramatic pose and the child’s laughter bounced around the walls.

Hope felt a little glow in her heart. Sir Stefan seemed very nice.

He hadn’t wanted to be here, but he was still taking the time to amuse a child, making his day out a little more exciting and special.

She couldn’t imagine Geoff Warner going to so much trouble.

It was a relief that she was able to dismiss Geoff so easily. She’d made quite a breakthrough today.

She hoped it wouldn’t take Sir Stefan so long to get Miss Charmer out of his system, for his own sake.

Hope could see now how much time she’d wasted.

If he was anything like her, he just wouldn’t notice anyone else.

Although . . .

Hope smiled wistfully and, without actually meaning to, pressed the shutter on her camera.

He had said that she looked lovely.

As she lowered her camera, a shaft of sunlight glinted on the lens.

The sudden spark caught the attention of someone standing on a rock down below.

Hope didn’t notice. She was fastening her sandals.

****

An hour later, heading reluctantly back to the mini-bus, Hope was aware of the strangest feeling deep inside.

Somehow it felt as if she’d lost something before she’d quite found it.

A voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Excuse me, miss, I’m afraid I have to detain you for a moment, for security reasons.”

“I beg your pardon?” Confused, Hope found herself confronted by a young man barring her way to the car park.

“What security reasons?” “You were seen breaching a number of by-laws specific to Stirling Castle,” he said. “I’m one of the castle staff.”

Hope looked at his leather jacket, his AC/DC T-shirt and the motorbike helmet under his arm. “Seriously? You’re staff?” “Well, I was for today – and I hated it so much that I never will be again.”

She recognised him.

“Sir Stefan!”

He bowed.

“Don’t deprive me of my moment of glory, will you?” She grinned.

“So, tell me about these by-laws I’ve breached.”

“I will. Then I’ll read you your rights. First of all, I’m guessing you missed out on the ghost walk.”

“I didn’t think they did ghost walks during daylight.”

“Not usually, no. But members of staff are permitted to tell one story.”

“I see.” Hope’s lips twitched in amusement.

“I’ll tell you my favourite – it’s not even certain that it is about an actual ghost.”

“A failed ghost – sounds as good as a failed knight.”

“Quite. It’s said that a mysterious young woman appears to young men to help them realise they’ve been mistaken in an affair of the heart.”

Hope felt her heart quickening.

“Have – have you ever seen her?”

“Strangely, I saw her today. She looked – lovely. She was easy to spot. She was wearing a long yellow dress.”

His expression was deadpan but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes as he went on.

“I reckon more people would notice her if they had proper security lights around here.”

Laughter bubbled up inside her.

“So, I was wondering . . .” A loud blast of a horn shattered the moment and Hope saw her classmates all waving from the minibus, impatient to set off on their homeward journey.

“I’m sorry, I’ll have to go . . .”

“Wait, just a second. We haven’t covered your second breach yet.” “Second breach?”

“It’s my belief that you were breaking privacy laws. You took my photo without asking permission – twice.” So he had noticed! “Listen, I’m sorry, I . . .” “Here.” He handed her a piece of paper.

“What’s this?”

“Well, if you win the photo competition, I’ll be entitled to a share of the winnings, won’t I?”

Hope looked at the piece of paper and smiled.

“So you’ll need my number.”

The End.