Tis the ninth day of November of the year 2002, Sir Richard's two nephews James and John arriveth from "The Pass" to the west to see the festival at New Market. All in all, ten of us shalt make the journey. Most excellent for the King demands a show of force. We gather at Sir Richard's home for last minute arming.  We shalt be in three coaches. Master James, Sir Richard and his two nephews shalt be in one coach. I will transport Master Nii, Sir Brian and his Lady Fae.  Gareth shalt travel with The Man at Arms.  I would be driving back alone for I am to ride to my sister's home for a Greek dinner for family and a few friends.  Lady Mary would not be joining us.

We arrived at half past the hour of ten. Gareth and Trublood were waiting at the end of row eight. Gareth gained some weight and had problems with his belt.

As we continue along Silversmith Lane, I notice a sign for Dragon Shanks at Castilla Y Leon.  I have never tried the meat of this rare beast and kept the inn in mind.  We stop at Dove Meadow Stage and eat our small feast while watching  Stewart and Arnold the  father and son knifethrowers at the Dove Meadow Stage. Twas a mite windy and at one point a branch fell from the pine trees which shaded the small stage. Amazingly no one sued. With the wind, the knife throws were not as close I would like it. North of Dove Meadow we find the watermill and maypole. The grounds of the maypole are muddy and smells like a pig's sty.  As we walk clear of the maypole, the Axecutioner hawks for a photo in his stocks.

Nice sword, complements a  white haired stranger examining my hilt of my blade.
Thank you, I reply.
Would that thou be interested in am automatic blade?
I might, I answer.

He puts aside his walking stick, spits out tobacco juice and reaches for a large satchel. He draws many switch blades of all nationalities.  I tell him that they are all nice, but I did not see one that truly catches my fancy. As I am examining the weapons, I spot a barbarian carrying his leather boots over his shoulders. Tags on the boots indicated they were for sale. I guess even those attending the faire have something to sell. As we make our way past the Chapel, I see two pretty female elves with perfect ears. Trublood refers to them as elvish babes.  We continue past The War of the Roses rose garden to the Authentic Wardrobe shoppe where I ask them once again if  they received any dandy shirts. The merchant apologizes and says that he has not.  Someone stops Trublood and I for a Flemish painitng.  We oblige, and Gareth jumps in as well. The weather was beginning to get hot. At Pendragon Leather, the merchant complemented Trublood's baldric.  Twas here that he had purchased his leather doublet. Noon draws near and so does the Grand Marche Parade so we find a spot for Lady Fae Cynthia to rest near the Captain's Galley. A Washing Well Wench hawks their upcoming act which untimely begins as the parade.