Chapter 19
Eighth Week of Faire: Viking Weekend
Lilian had worked at the faire long enough to both love and hate Viking Weekend.
It wasn’t exactly clear what made it so different from the other weekends.
But a strange mob mentality seemed to descend on the faire grounds.
The Viking actors all had a field day, wearing their best war paint, donning their animal furs and running throughout the faire.
Oftentimes their… enthusiasm was contagious, resulting in an increase in trash, broken set pieces, thefts, and drinking.
This year, Hawk had increased security to try to dissuade bad actors, and the king had given the Viking crew a stern warning.
Lots of legal words were thrown around, like liability, and a sexual harassment briefing was given to all the faire workers.
The entire display had Hawk’s very concise and managerial fingerprints all over it.
For once, Lilian was grateful her shop wasn’t located in the heart of the faire. It meant she would be far from the chaos.
There were a plethora of Viking romances, ranging from Sandra Hill to more recent publications.
She even had a few Norse-inspired fantasy novels lining the shelves.
After the rush of Romance Weekend and weeks of hard work, the shop was finally seeing a steady flow of customers, and she didn’t want to see the numbers slip.
“Who will be Mr. Brawn?” Margo asked as she adjusted the plastic flower throne.
Over the week, Lilian had acquired more fake foliage to cover up the bare spots of the chair. The cottage now looked like it sold more flowers than books, but it set a romantic atmosphere that she and Margo both adored.
“Ian, definitely,” Lilian said, putting her empty book bin behind the counter. “Gotta show those Vikings a little love.”
“Ian’s getting lucky,” Margo sang as she twisted a pale blue rose along the top of the chair.
“With who?” David asked, stepping into the shop. He wasn’t dressed in his full armor set today but still wore a formal tunic and some light chainmail.
Lilian snickered. “I was just saying I’ve already picked Mr. Brawn for the week.
I’m a little surprised to see you here.” Since they'd started the Hunt the Hunk promotion, David’s presence had been more scarce around the shop.
From what Lilian had heard, he’d been accosted by several eager visitors.
It almost made her feel bad for the promotion.
Some of the other knights had approached them about being added to the board, and Margo had been quick to comply. They were quickly running out of room for posters.
That easy dimpled grin flashed her way. “No jousting today, ladies. Haven’t you heard? The arena is reserved for hand-to-hand combat matches today. So I have a little more time.”
“Oooh, I love the combat days.” Margo sighed.
“And you gave me grief about Highlander Weekend.” Lilian smiled as she moved behind the counter. “Things aren’t that busy right now, and it’s almost time for your lunch break. If you want, you can go see the axe throwing.”
“Really?” Margo’s eyes sparkled at the suggestion.
At the same time, a slight frown tugged at David’s lips. “You never showed that kind of interest in my jousting days.”
“Oh, it’s way more exciting than the jousts,” Margo said, grabbing her purse.
“Hey!” David wasn’t one to get offended easily, but the outrage in the word might have actually been real.
Margo gave a careless shrug. “It’s true. We do jousting every week. But how often does a guy throw a real axe at another man’s head?”
Just like that, the outrage was replaced with interest. “They do that?”
“Yes!”
“Well, then, allow me the honor of escorting you to the arena. I hear there are Vikings about today, and I would hate for them to plunder you.”
“Plunder? I think that’s what pirates do.”
He waved off the correction. “I can never keep track.”
Margo laughed, sharing a knowing look with Lilian.
David was by far the most laid back of all the actors at the faire.
Especially considering he was a knight. An accidental one, but a knight none the less.
If they weren’t jousting or doing a demonstration, they were usually relegated to act as one of the king’s noble entourage.
But Lilian couldn’t ever recall seeing David marching next to the king.
“You sure? It’s been kind of a madhouse recently,” Margo said.
Lilian waved her off. “I got it. It’s still early, and it’s only for an hour.
” Besides, what was the fun in working at the faire if they never got to enjoy it?
She’d noticed over the weeks how some of the veteran vendors were solely focused on their shops.
Sure, they all seemed to love what they were doing, but they barely paid attention to the festivities happening around them.
Last week, Monica from the stationery shop had asked her what the theme was.
Maybe it was unavoidable. A side effect of working at the faire. Slowly it loses its magic and becomes another job. But she was determined to make sure she and Margo hung on to that magic for as long as they could.
“You’re the best.” Her friend beamed before rushing toward the door.
David’s eyes followed her like a flower turning toward the sun, and she nestled up beside him.
Once they were gone, Lilian busied herself with the smaller details of the shop. Sweeping the floor and engaging with anyone who popped their heads inside. It was slower, but she was still pleased by the steady stream of customers, usually coming in two at a time.
Within thirty minutes, she sold two books. Which was two more than she’d sold during the entire weekend of week two. It’s progress, she told herself but still couldn’t help standing in the door frame, watching people walk by.
It probably wasn’t very good business etiquette to look like an anxious mess outside one’s shop. Lilian moved herself back inside and rearranged the shelves for the hundredth time.
She was focused on deciding if a Viking vampire novel deserved a place on the shelf when heavy bootsteps shook the cottage’s wooden frame.
“Welcome to Bodice and Brawn,” she greeted automatically.
She turned to find two men dressed in animal furs. They both looked to be about her age, though it was difficult to tell with their long beards. She didn’t recognize them as actors. The smart watches and metal-tipped boots were dead giveaways that they were guests at the faire.
She offered a polite smile and stepped out from behind the counter. “Looking for something, gentlemen?”
“Gentlemen?” One laughed. “I’m not a gentleman. Can’t you see?” He pointed at his chest, where he had a necklace made from small animal bones. “I’m a barbarian.”
“Viking,” Lilian corrected, “or Norseman might be more appropriate. We don’t use that kind of language at the faire.”
Years ago, the Viking Camp had been known as the Barbarian Encampment.
But a local group of historians had advocated for the change, pointing out that the term barbarian was dehumanizing to a group that had been advanced in their warfare and culture.
It was one of the few times Lilian and the other actors approved of King Rothbury’s push for historical accuracy.
“Where?” the friend asked, looking around the shop like he honestly had no idea where they were. “Wait? Are those lady porn books?”
Lilian bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from a snarky correction. In one fluid motion, she put herself between the bone wearer and the merchandise. “They are romance novels, yes.”
As soon as she got close, the heavy smell of alcohol was obvious. These men were drunk. And it wasn’t even noon yet. God, she remembered dealing with men like this all the time when she’d worked as a bar wench. Back then, she’d usually had Margo beside her as backup. Now she was alone.
“My granny used to call them bodice rippers.” The first man laughed, pushing past her to get to the shelf.
Lilian fought down the urge to pull him back.
In cases like this, it was best to let them have their look.
They would quickly get bored and move on to the next shop.
It would be uncomfortable for a few minutes, and they would no doubt ruin the careful way she’d alphabetized the books. But she could handle that.
As the man began to thumb through a book, Lilian moved back behind the counter.
Suddenly, the second man stepped in front of her, blocking the path. “You read that stuff?” he asked. The tone aimed for casual conversation, but the stench of beer made her skin crawl.
Lilian did her best to hide her grimace. “Yeah.”
“Ya ever wanna try out the stuff you read about in those books?”
It was a common question, unfortunately. But she’d received it enough that a curt reply came out automatically. “Not with strangers from the faire.”
He leered at her. “Aw, come on. We don’t have to be strangers. My name is Jackson and my friend is Brett. There, now we’re not strangers.”
“Nice to meet you.” Lilian did not offer her name in return. She moved toward the counter again, if for no other reason than to put a solid piece of wood between herself and the men.
But as she walked past Jackson, she heard him call out, “Hey, come on, there’s no reason to be like that…” He was still talking when something grabbed the back of her bodice.
Anger crackled through her, overpowering any discomfort. “What are you doing?” she snapped, reeling on him, but his grip stayed firm. The movement was too fast, too hard, and the asshole did not let go. Next thing she heard was a pop and tear before the support around her breasts fell away.
“Oh shit,” Brett whispered from the bookshelf.
The two men stared as her bodice fell to the ground.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if it had just been the bodice, but Jackson had grabbed a hold of her underdress as well, the stitching of which had been torn.
The elastic that held the gown up by her shoulders gave way before her arms snapped up to hold it in place.