Chapter Twenty-Eight Jess
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jess
It was simply too hot. In the small strip of shade under the edge of the archery canopy, Jess waved the cutaway collar of her brown linen pirate shirt up and down, trying to get more air to reach her skin as she leaned against the support post. It was the opening day of the Renaissance Faire, and while her garb had been comfortable to practice in and for the photoshoot, it was a bit too much for a surprisingly hot fall day.
Most of that morning had been a bit too much: the colors, the music, the smell of meats being roasted and kettle corn being popped. It had been strange to see the stands prepared and festooned with their brightly colored banners and ribbons at the final archery practice the day before. They’d been pretty, yet frozen in time. Now they’d come alive, the aisles packed with people in flashy and audacious garb—from the School volunteers, to “Rennies” that Brian, Keith, and Theo had recruited, to smiling patrons. Everyone laughing and bowing to one another, speaking with overcomplicated words and phrases. Jess might teach classes on the period, but she had no desire to speak the period. Brian and Keith were kind enough to speak normally with her.
Her gaze drifted up the row, but she snapped it back. The smithy was that way, and she couldn’t risk seeing Mo. In spite of the promise she’d made to Alice and Steph; in spite of repeating that promise to Steph three days ago during their tearful goodbye at the airport, she still wasn’t ready. But the proximity of the smithy and the archery stand might force her to cross paths with him at any moment. The town crier walked past, making Jess’s head throb with his clanging bell and announcements about the events of the day. Jess winced.
My senses are overloaded; I can’t imagine what it’s like for Mo.
—
Twenty minutes later, after helping a little girl earn her Wee Archers Guild certificate, Jess was putting the child-sized bow and arrows back in their places, smiling to herself. A man’s voice called out to her.
“My fair Lady Archer! By Odin, it maketh me joyous to see thee merry!”
Confused, Jess turned toward the voice as Theo joined her at the stand. His friendly grin was a mile wide, a contrast to his dark, long-sleeved tunic belted under a deep gray cloak with a mottled silver fur mantle. The hair on the top of his head had been braided flat against his crown, but the ends were much longer and fuller, resting loose on his shoulders except for a few small sections that had been braided and adorned with detailed silver and black cuffs. Jess forced her eyebrows back down.
“Theo,” she said. “Looks like”—she looked him up and down—“you’re in your element.”
He laughed.
“But how are you not burning up?” she asked. He leaned close to her.
“I’m dying here,” he whispered. “But beauty is pain. And Viking men were serious about their beauty.”
“Oh,” Jess said. “I’m new to this, I didn’t realize that ‘Viking’ garb fit under the Ren Faire umbrella.”
He shrugged.
“Depends on who you ask, I guess. But I’m not going to let any naysayers stop me,” he said, watching the people file by. “I’ve always loved putting on a fun costume and stepping into a different world.”
“Always?” Jess asked. He gave her his broad smile again.
“Oh yeah. Ever since I was a kid. Even dressed up my dog. He was easier to catch than my big sister,” Theo said, winking.
Jess managed a tight laugh, looking away from him so he wouldn’t see the tears blurring her vision. Even though she was taking more and more tiny steps in grieving, she’d been running from thoughts of Cassie that day. Neither of the counselors she’d spoken with had been able to see her before the Faire. In spite of her hesitations about compartmentalizing, Jess was afraid that if she thought about her sister, she would break down. She couldn’t let her emotional state have a detrimental effect on the Faire. She’d just keep her thoughts under control and fall apart in the car or at home each evening. The last thing she’d anticipated was someone she barely knew voicing one of her Cassie memories.
Glancing at the other end of the stand, she was relieved to see a couple watching Ned as he taught a masked noblewoman to shoot. Jess focused on the opportunity to help them so she could put Cassie out of her mind. Theo followed her gaze.
“Oops, sorry,” he said. “I’m keeping you from your duties. Fare thee well.” He bowed his head and stepped out from under the awning, joining the passersby.
Jess took two deep breaths, steadying herself and purposefully blanking her mind. Then she walked to the end of the stall to ask the couple if they’d like to learn how to shoot.
—
A short while later, Keith began pulling a rope across their stand while Brian put away the bows and arrows for guests. The couple Jess was working with caught the message and left. It was time for the team to take their places in the arena for the show. Jess was seriously regretting not wearing some sort of hat. Even if the ones she’d seen online were too fussy-looking for her taste. When she’d arrived, Lana had appeared out of nowhere and shook her head at Jess’s ponytail. She’d hauled her over to a booth called “bawdy braids” and the woman running it had pounced on Jess’s head. In the end, Jess admitted that the result, with intertwined braids on her crown and the rest of her hair down, was pretty and would keep her hair out of her face when it was time to shoot. Keith approached her, tucking in his green arrows and pulling up his green-and-brown hood.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Just need my tack,” she said. He nodded as she went to the back of the stand and filled her quiver with her red arrows. The crowd needed to clearly see which archer shot what. Brian was the blue archer, Keith was green, and Jess was red. She tied a long red sash around her waist and grabbed her longbow. She was about to step out of the shadows when she saw Mo walking past the archery booth. She stepped back to remain hidden. He slowed his pace a little, glancing at the closed booth. He looked back in the direction he was walking, but not before Jess caught a forlorn half-smile bend his lips. Her heart skipped a beat.
Maybe Al and Steph are right. Maybe he doesn’t hate me.
—
In her hiding place under the wooden stage, Jess listened as Doug, playing the role of the queen’s servant, addressed the crowd in the risers on either side of the arena, revving them up for the competition between Brian and Keith. Ned had told Jess that there had been a bit of behind-the-scenes drama when Doug learned that Wendy was to be the Queen of the Faire, and in Elizabethan tradition, she was not going to have a king. When Ned told her that Doug suggested he play Sir Robert Dudley, Jess had had to give the reason behind her guffaw. She didn’t know if her explanation that Doug had been trying to imply that he was Wendy’s lover had gotten back to her. All that Jess knew was that Doug had not ended up as a noble as he’d seemed to hope. His garb was nice, but his role was little more than the queen’s crier, announcing the events taking place in front of the stage.
Jess let herself smile as he assigned each side an archer to cheer for. She was happy to have a moment in the shade under the stage, a few degrees cooler than in the sunshine. The following night, the Faire would be over, and she could put the madness behind her. If she kept her mind focused on her tasks and completely avoided Mo, she’d be fine. Her knees began aching, and she uncrossed her legs, stretching and gingerly repositioning into a kneeling position. It wasn’t pain-free, but it was better.
The show began. As Brian, Good Archer Blue, and Keith, Good Archer Green, took turns firing, the crowd cheered for their respective archers. Off in the distance, one of the Rennies, dressed in garb, examined the targets, pretending he wasn’t sure who had won. Brian and Keith had intentionally shot around the bull’s-eye. But the crowd didn’t know that. Jess picked up her tack and aimed.
“I declare, Archer…” Doug cried out. That was Jess’s cue. She pulled back, released, and watched her arrow land dead center in the left bull’s-eye. A gasp went up from the crowd. Jess emerged.
“My good sir,” she shouted. “Thou hast finished the contest too soon!”
While Brian and Keith loudly expressed their disagreement to gain the crowd’s attention, Jess drew back again and fired, piercing the balloon tacked to the top of the left target. The crowd cheered. She fired again, puncturing the matching balloon at the right target. The crowd cheered even louder.
“My good men,” Doug said to Brian and Keith. “Verily, if we are to crown the best archer in the land, Her Majesty requires that we take all comers.” He gestured and bowed to Wendy, in garb fit for her station, seated in the middle of the stage. Jess mimed lifting skirts as she curtsied to the queen. Wendy nodded at her, barely concealing a smirk.
“A curse on your bow,” Keith shouted at Jess as she stood straight. He aimed and landed his arrow in the ring outside Jess’s in the left bull’s-eye.
“A pox on your arrow,” Brian shouted. His arrow landed on the other side of hers.
“My good masters, wherefore such malice?” Jess cried out, turning so the crowd could hear her. She drew another arrow. “Methinks you fear defeat at the hands of a woman!” She released, and the arrow landed just on the inside of Keith’s. The crowd roared while she fired again, grazing along Brian’s as it pierced the target. Jess took a few steps forward and bowed wth a flourish to each side of the audience. They were so loud, Jess almost broke character. She’d never heard as much cheering in all her years competing.
Once Jess had returned to the firing line, Doug raised his hands.
“My good people,” he called out. “My good people, what say we test the mettle of our competitors?”
While the crowd was cheering, two Rennies dressed as squires came running onto the field carrying baskets of bean bags. Brian, Keith, and Jess lined up. This next part was technically more difficult, but it would be hard for the crowd to keep track if they got it right. The squires got into position.
“The archer who doth collect the most quarry shall be champion,” Doug shouted. “Shall it be our Good Archer Green?”
Keith took a few steps forward and stretched his arms wide to his side of the arena. There were shouts of encouragement and applause. He returned to the line.
“Our Good Archer Blue?”
Brian did the same.
“Or…Mistress Archer Red?”
The crowd roared again, but rather than step out for her applause, Jess drew back her bow, as Brian and Keith had. The crowd’s reaction was the cue for the squires. They began tossing the bags high into the air and Brian, Keith, and Jess fired again and again. What the crowd didn’t know was that Brian and Keith were purposefully missing every other shot they took. Jess was trying to hit each one. As planned, the squire on the right threw the last bag high into the air. Its trajectory was different because it had a lot fewer beans. Brian and Keith shot low intentionally, but Jess pierced it as it flew into the middle of the arena. It exploded, confetti flying everywhere. The crowd was on its feet.
The squires ran onto the field, collecting the pierced bags strewn all over. They built up the anticipation, counting them slowly. Then one stood straight, pulling a red scarf out of his pocket and waving it in the air. The crowd went wild.
—
Brian clapped her on the shoulder as they left the arena after she’d bowed and waved to the audience on both sides.
“Excellent job,” he said. “Especially for your first time. You’re a natural at this. Why aren’t you a Rennie already?”
“I—” Jess felt her smile fall, her throat closing up. In a small way, she had been a reluctant Rennie in the past. Encouraged along by the sweetest, kindest Rennie there had ever been. The buzz, the energy from the crowd was still running through her, wrapped around her—like an impossible hug from her sister. She realized tears were on their way, so she shook her head and shrugged.
“Jess, that was great,” Keith said, jogging up to join them as they walked back to the stand.
“Thanks,” she squeaked out. She needed to get a drink, something, to get herself under control. She cleared her throat. “Listen, I need a drink. Can you guys take my tack?”
“Sure, take a long break, we got the stand,” Brian said, taking the things she shoved at him. “Is everything—”
“Be back,” she said, walking away from them as quickly as her legs could carry her.