Return of the Sun - 24. Chapter 24

Darren had been given no say in the matter; if Scott was being dragged kicking and screaming to the castle, then so was he. Gran had made it very clear that she had wanted to go and had even asked Scott to drive her to it, which was a rarity due to her hatred of cars.

Supposedly Serena was going with her mother, and Scott had ensured that they would meet up at entrance to the festival and go in together. His master plan was going along smoothly until Gran had called Jan to invite her along.

Scott's Rover was stuffed to the brim with Allston kids, Jasper sitting on Dickie's lap on the fold-down third row seat in the back was being loud, and Scott suddenly had a very good lesson in exactly why he never wanted to have kids. Jan and Gran behind him were talking loudly seeming to completely ignore the sprog, and Darren was idly playing with the radio. Joel seemed to be the only quiet one out of the bunch as he listened to the headphones of his CD player.

It reminded him of the family outings he had taken with his family before they emigrated. His father would pack up his brood of children, more a herd really, and drag them all over the country to see the historical sites. Now here Scott was driving his extended family on his first outing. It was a stark reminder that he had grown up.

The Rover swung into the gravel parking lot and it was fortunate, really, that the attendants took one look at the Range Rover and waved it into the forward parking lot. There were advantages to driving a vehicle customary of upper classes, not that Scott was about to complain. He pulled to a stop and dug his visor cap out of the glove compartment as his passengers unloaded themselves from the back. Gran already setting up Jan's wheelchair as Dickie and Joel helped her down into it.

"So what's the plan?" Scott asked, adjusting his cap so that his hair spilled out the top and slipping his sunglasses on. It was a warm day, despite the weatherman on the BBC predicting rain. Then again they were notorious for hedging their bets ever since the hurricanes they had promised would never come had torn apart most of southern England back in the late eighties.

Gran smiled and looked to Jan for direction; it was pretty obvious that she and Jan would be anxious to see the arts and craft stalls, where as the boys were probably more interested in the jousts and re-enactments that were going on all day.

"I'll take sprog," Dickie volunteered, scooping up the little one in his arms.

"That's a good boy," Gran smiled warmly, glad that Jan would be able to have a break instead of trying to handle the little one in a wheel chair in these crowds.

Scott nodded his head, "Right, well I promised to meet a friend..."

"Mmm, cider," Darren muttered as he watched a couple of men unloading a wagon who were dressed as fourteenth-century peasants.

Gran gave him a stern look that said he should rethink the idea of investigating the contents of those barrels that was probably forming in his head. Darren grinned back at her in a way that said he would do it anyway.

The group moved off to the entrance producing their tickets and stepping back in time more than five hundred years.

There were jesters juggling balls and maidens dressed in traditional dresses made from wools and cottons, moving about through the crowds. A few knights in chain-mail armour supped from tankards and boasted about their deeds on the field of battle. There was also the din of a re-enactment in session as soldiers with pikes and swords clashed against one another to recreate a medieval siege.

Scott loved it.

He stepped aside to allow a couple of men wearing swords to pass him. He realized that they weren't part of the festival, but nobody seemed to care that they were dressed like Vikings.

Darren chuckled at them, as he nudged Scott, "We should buy swords."

Scott gave him a look, "Isn't that a bit..."

Darren nodded, "That's the point. It's a festival; come on, I dare you to get dressed up."

"If I do, you have to as well," Scott said, looking about him.

"I dunno," Darren said, looking at a man dressed in animal furs and carrying a wicked looking warhammer.

"You both should," Serena said, sweeping up, and Scott suppressed the urge to giggle at her long flowing dress and pointed hat. She looked like a storybook princess, elegant and beautiful. Cinderella had nothing on her at that moment; there was no question who Prince Charming would have married.

Darren just stood there moonstruck.

"Alright," Scott said, nudging Darren till he closed his mouth. "Come on lug-nut, before you trip over that tongue."

Darren shook himself and blinked at her, nodding as he followed behind Scott. Serena hid her own pretty smile at the reaction she had caused, as the three friends looked for an authentic costumers to dress the part.

* * *

Scott shot his cuffs feeling a little silly. Serena inspected him as she tapped her chin with her fan. "It's a bit plain..." she remarked thoughtfully.

Scott had selected a simple white frock shirt and a pair of trousers that he was assured were authentic, although he had never seen anyone wear them in the films. The riding boots were a bit on the expensive side, but he figured why not spend a little.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked. Looking at himself in the mirror, he felt like he looked ok.

"You need a tunic or something," she said. "Something cropped that shows off your bum."

He looked at her and narrowed his eyes. "I'm not here to parade for you..." he said dryly.

She smiled at him. "As a lady-in-waiting, I don't want to be escorted by men who cannot dress themselves properly," she said in a haughty voice.

Scott rolled his eyes at her as he reached out to select a tunic from the rack. He stopped and walked over to where some beautiful waistcoats sat folded neatly on a table. Picking up a black one with an embroidered Tudor rose on it, he slipped it on and turned to present himself for another inspection.

She sniffed at him and motioned with her fan for him to turn around, hemming and hawing a moment. Scott was not entirely comfortable with her looking at him like that so he turned back. "It'll do fine," he said, reaching into his regular pants pocket and paying for the costume.

The merchant bowed his thanks and provided a bag for Scott to place his old clothing in until he could make a run out to the Rover. In defiance to the costume he put his sunglasses back on. There were a few things about authenticity he was willing to forgo.

"Right, then," he said looking about him. "Where'd Darren go?"

Serena shrugged. "No idea, he was over there," she pointed to another merchant's stall.

They both scanned the crowd for a moment, and Scott broke out into a broad grin when he recognized Darren angling through the crowds towards them. Now it was Serena's turn to gape. Darren was wearing leathers that were a bit too tight and showed his lean form and well-developed muscles.

He grinned at Scott and handed him a long package wrapped in tissue paper. "Cuz, call it an early birthday present."

Scott frowned as he unwrapped it, stopping to admire the intricate workmanship on the long sword. In the entire world, nothing in Scott's opinion could compare to an English blacksmith who took pride in his work. It wasn't one of those made-in-China tinfoil things that would melt if left in the sun too long. It was an old-styled, handmade weapon crafted with care in the traditional manner. He looked up at Darren gratefully.

"Thank you," he said with emotion in his voice.

Darren nodded, "I saw the booth and I figured what the hell, eh? 'Made in England' still carries some weight."

Scott quickly buckled it about his waist, and adjusted its scabbard to sit properly, lightly resting a hand on the hilt and grinning stupidly. He felt like a kid going to a fancy-dress party.

Serena was still staring at Darren's leather hose. Her eyes locked with a new-found appreciation for English craftsmanship herself.

Scott shook his head at the pair of them, gesturing off towards the castle, "Are you both going to stand there gaping at each other or shall we find a beer tent?"

"You're driving," Darren reminded him with a grin. "I don't think Gran would appreciate you getting pulled over."

"Good point," Scott replied. "I'll stick to coffee..."

Serena chuckled, "This is a medieval fair, there is no coffee..."

"Heathens!" Scott cried loud enough to cause a few heads to turn to him; he grinned at the crowd and blushed at his outburst. "Right, so what did they have back then to drink?"

"Cider," Darren grinned.

"Lemonade I think," Serena said, as they walked through the throngs of people carrying their bags and looking for a refreshment tent. Scott became aware of the nods they were getting from the other costumers, and a few knights inclined their heads to Serena and referred to her as 'milady.' She loved the attention, and reached out to take Scott's arm possessively as she glided through the crowd.

Scott looked down at it and over to Darren, obliviously walking a few feet on her other side. He looked up at her and inclined his head to Darren. She looked over at Darren and blushed, shaking her head. He gestured again, setting his jaw stubbornly, and she whacked him with her fan.

"Ow!" Scott winced, rubbing his arm where she had hit him.

"You're such a wimp," she said. "I didn't hit you that hard."

"Abuse," Scott called out. "Murder! Help I am being assaulted..."

Darren cocked his head over at Scott, "I thought you were supposed to be escorting the fine lady here, not her escorting you."

Scott glared at him, "I hate you..."

Serena patted his arm, "It's okay, you're just a delicate boy; that's why we like you."

They entered the refreshment tent to find Gran and Jan already enjoying a well-earned pot of tea. Judging from the pile of shopping bags around them they had already been through the art and crafts section.

Scott was relieved to find there was indeed coffee available in this recreation of the past, and so armed, returned to join Gran's table. Chuckling to himself as the sword got tangled in the chair legs, he had to put the coffee mug down and shift it about to sit down.

Gran smiled at him. "Well don't you look a sight," she said with a grin which got broader when she saw Darren and Serena returning with a plate of scones and a couple of ciders in plastic cups. "I take that back, you all look like something out of Hamlet."

"Alas, poor Yorrick," Scott intoned with a smile. "I knew him well, Horatio."

Serena fought with her billowing skirts in an effort to sit down, discovering that modern plastic chairs were in no way compatible with fifteenth-century dresses. Finally she hiked the skirts up a bit and plopped down on it, pushing down on the skirts in an effort to look dignified. "I'd go mental if I had to dress like this every day," she remarked, glancing over at Scott. "And no, I am not going to be your Ophelia, thank you very much."

"I didn't say anything," Scott grinned, the Hamlet metaphor still alive and well.

Dickie walked into the tent with Jasper who was decked out in a belled jester's hat. Dickie took one look at them and burst out laughing. He held up a hand indicating to give him a second to recover, but he was laughing so hard that he nearly fell over. Scott sighed and crossed his arms waiting for him to get done.

Jasper jingled as he cocked his head to look at them, before Jan handed him one of the scones that he began to devour nosily.

"Well," Dickie said, recovering from his fit of laughter, "they've got the lists going on in a few minutes, and the grand joust later, if your lords and ladyship are interested?" He asked looking at Scott, Serena and Darren.

Scott stood, the hilt of the sword catching on the edge of the table and he sat down again to get up more slowly; there was definitely an art to costuming. He stepped around the table. "I'm game for it," he said with a pleasant smile.

Dickie looked over at Serena hopefully and she looked back, "Okay, I'll come if you give me a chance to finish my cider." She lifted the cup and held the pointed hat on as she tilted her head back to down the rest of her drink.

Darren grinned at her obviously impressed and finished his as well. "Are you going to be here for awhile?" he asked Gran hopefully.

Gran looked down at the two bags of clothes and nodded to him, "Just leave them with us and we'll take care of them, you kids go have fun."

Jasper didn't look in a hurry to go, and Gran helped him up into a chair; he was probably eager for lunch anyway. The gaggle of friends left the tent looking for the Melee list tournaments.

The competitions were broken up into an archery competition to be held later in the afternoon, just before the grand joust that was the highlight of the day's competitions. But for now the Melee lists were about to take place, the lists being brutal foot battles where armoured warriors hammered on each other with swords trying to score points.

It was close to recreating the real battles that were fought back then, trilling with the din of metal crashing against metal to the roar of the crowds. There was a buzz about the tournaments as the spectators cheered or booed the combatants that did battle for the glory of being the best.

Scott had wandered a bit from the group, trying to get a better vantage of the square of battle. He wondered what it must have been like to have watched the real thing all those years ago, but realized it was a different time, a different set of people with different values.

He saw that he had managed to get directly across from his friends when he caught sight of Serena's cone-shaped hat bobbing over the heads, and he climbed onto an old stump to try to wave at them, clutching onto a tree branch to keep his balance. He stopped though when he saw the three of them.

Dickie was trying to get her attention, sidling up to Serena, touching her arm and pointing into the battle, trying to tell her about the fight, the history of it. But her language was closed to him; each time he touched her she would look over at Darren. Darren was trying to give the two of them space, oblivious to the fact that Serena didn't want that.

He wondered if Serena was doing it consciously; trying to keep him close by her body language, trying to tell him that she wasn't interested in Dickie at that point. But then, he reflected, Serena didn't seem to know what she wanted. She was obviously attracted to Dickie, but she was discovering that she was also attracted to Darren. With Darren she had a future, with Dickie she would be nothing more than his mistress. And Scott wanted so desperately to help her but there was nothing he could do. This was her choice to make, all he could do was stand ready to help her when he could.

It was no longer an age of chivalry, the days of a knight-errant riding to the rescue of a damsel in distress were long gone. In the modern age where equality ruled supreme, there was no room for it; instead a woman had to be her own champion. Defend her own honour.

He watched silently as Serena finally pulled away from Dickie, and in frustration he tried to grab for her. Every instinct in Scott screamed for him to get over there, but it wasn't his place.

Darren stepped between them, putting himself between Dickie and Serena. There was a heated exchange as Serena rubbed her arm and yelled at him over Darren's shoulder. Dickie seemed apologetic at first, but that faded as his own anger caught up to him and he began to yell in return.

Scott couldn't stand it any longer; dropping down from his stump he pushed his way through the crowds. He was having difficulty getting back to them, but when he finally entered their circle, Darren had his arm protectively around Serena as he led her away and Dickie was swearing after them.

He rounded and saw Scott, sneering as he pushed past him and stalked away. Scott turned, not sure what he should do. Darren needed time alone with Serena, which left him with the onerous task of dealing with the rejected Dickie. He shook his head, wondering when things had become so complex in life. And he set out to catch up with Dickie's retreating form.

He caught up with Dickie just as he crossed one of the re-enactment grounds in the lee of the castle. The magnificent backdrop of the castle that was now a Canadian university seemed suddenly a very odd setting for the moment as Scott fell into step beside him.

"Piss off, Scott," Dickie growled at him.

Scott shrugged, "What was that about?"

Dickie turned, "If you've come to give me grief as well you can forget it."

"Look," Scott said holding up his hands, "I know more about what's going on than you think..."

"Is that a threat?" Dickie snarled.

"No," Scott said backing up a step, "that's not what I..."

"Listen to me you fucking..." he bit off the words wrestling for control, "Whatever it is you think you know, it's wrong. Whatever Serena told you is a load of..."

"I saw you," Scott said cutting Dickie off cold. "In Kent that first morning..."

Dickie stared at him with eyes filled with cold anger; there was no denying the pain that was held there. Had Serena's rejection really shaken him that much? The indomitable Dickie Allston, shaken by one girl?

"Look, I'm sorry she's broken it off with you." Scott tried again, "Look if there's anything I can do..."

"Do?" Dickie rounded on him again, "Do? You're too fucking busy doing my brother!"

Scott's face fell in shock, and he was left speechless. He had nothing to say to that, nothing at all. The anger and hatred that was thrown into that one statement was indescribable. It was raw emotion, and it was directed to hurting him.

"Yeah, that's right," Dickie said. "What, you think you're the only one that knows a secret, Scott? I know full well that you've been sleeping with Luke..."

"What?" Jan said, her voice deathly quiet, seated in her chair on the edge of the circle of people that surrounded them. Gran held onto Jasper's hand as they walked towards the main jousting area.

The look on Jan's face, and the sad look on Gran's, were enough for Scott to know full well what they had just heard Dickie say. Dickie for his own part looked awful, like he had realized what he had said in anger, and he turned to his shocked mother struggling for words.

Scott worked his jaw a few times; he should deny it. Say something to deny it. Say something, say anything... speak...