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Wolf and Virginia
Go To The Faire

by Shay Sheridan

“This carriage smells.”

“It’s a bus, and yes. I’m sorry. Here’s another kleenex.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need ih--ih--ih--IACHOO!”

“You’re welcome.”

Wolf took the tissue and blew his nose several times, noisily. The man in the seat in front of him dabbed at his bald pate and fixed Wolf with an If-Looks-Could-Kill glare. Wolf remained oblivious. He sniffed wetly, wrinkling his nose at the exhaust smell creeping into the Hudson Transit bus, and looked over at Virginia, scrunched down in the window seat. “Are we there yet?”

Virginia shot him a look. “I can’t believe you asked me that. That’s like the ultimate travel cliche.”

“So is that good?” He was holding the remnants of the tissue like a gas mask over his now-red nose.

“Not really. But is’s OK. We’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

“How many minutes?”

Virginia sighed deeply. He’d been complaining, sniffing and asking the same question for nearly an hour.. Oh, well, at least this was preparing her for future car trips with children. “I don’t know exactly. I haven’t been up here since I was a kid. And I still can’t believe you talked me into going.”

“C’mon — it’s gonna be fun!”

Virginia rolled her eyes, and as she looked out the window, she saw a hand-painted sign: “Renaissance Faire, 1 mile.” Great. Geeky Medieval reenactment people, hippies Hopelessly Trapped in 1968 and a bunch of actors that couldn’t get summer stock jobs but who were willing to work for peanuts. Not to mention Port-O-Potties. She couldn’t imagine why Wolf had wanted to come, except that maybe the ad on TV had made him nostalgic for a rustic village. Well, now that she thought of it, the buxom wenches singing and waving at the camera might have influenced him a little more. Hmmm. Amazing what I’ll do for love, she thought, and sighed again.

“Oh, look!” The woman across the aisle from them was standing up in her seat. “Look! I think it’s the Sheriff of Nottingham! Oh my God, he’s so cuuuuuuuute!” Her waving grew frenetic, and the dried flower wreath in her punk pink hair slipped over one eye. Her friend, an enormous woman dressed as Xena the Warrior Princess started screaming too. Wolf looked over with interest. “Wow! I guess we’re here!”

The bus barely wheeled to a stop and he was at the door, Virginia in tow. She tried to apologize as they stepped on the toes of other eager faire-goers (most of whom were nattily attired in farthingale, wreath and halter top or sword, cape and bermuda shorts). The bus was a special that went door-to-door between Port Authority and the Faire’s entrance in Sterling Forest, and she and Wolf were part of only a handful of people not in costume. As she exited the air conditioned bus, Virginia felt the 90-degree heat, and was grateful to be in shorts.

They joined an enormous crowd of people in a plaza just outside the gates. Trumpeters dressed as Beefeaters heralded the opening of the festivities, as they watched, the wooden gates swung apart like two enormous drawbridges. The line inched forward past the ticket booths. Virginia begrudgingly forked over thirty dollars and they were inside.

“Goodness gracious me, what a nice town! This is gonna be great!” Wolf dashed ahead, past brightly attired jesters juggling clubs, a young girl selling trinkets from a cart and a fellow standing on an enormous rock hawking a show called “Shakespeare’s Women.” On both sides of the gravel path craftsmen called to the crowd about their wares. Wolf continued to weave through the press of people, until he came to a fork in the path. Virginia, lagging behind, caught up with him there. He looked perplexed. “Virginia --”

“Yeah?”

“What exactly is a ‘Mudd Show?’” He pointed across a small pond where an enormous sign was waving in the hot breeze.

Virginia scoured her memory. She’d been eleven when her dad had brought her here, and all she really remembered was meeting the queen and Robin Hood, who she thought was cute, and a lot of pubs where Tony had had quite a few beers. Oh, and a joust. “I really don’t know.”

“Let’s go see it!” And with that, he grabbed her hand and pulled her across a small bridge.

The “Mudd Show” turned out to consist of three long-haired guys who told horrible jokes and wallowed in, swam through and even gargled with mud for money. It was bizarre, but the audience found it hilarious. Virginia kept a tight hand on her wallet and avoided making eye contact when the self-styled “Mudd-Beggars” passed around a hat. Wolf was giving her a disapproving look. “Virginia,” he whispered, “this is how these beggars make their money. They might die if we don’t give them something. C’mon, they were funny.”

“Wolf,” she whispered back, “they’re ACTORS, and they get a salary, Okay?”

“Gee, you used to be such a soft touch...”

“Okay, Okay!” She grudgingly handed a dollar to the largest, muddiest performer.

“Why thank thee, milady!” His accent was atrocious, more Brooklyn than Brixton. “And now, I doth do for thee alone, wench, ye old mud swan dive!” The beggar climbed up to a ledge above the mud pit, as the audience pounded out a drum roll on their laps.

“Wolf, maybe we should move back --”

Too late. He jumped. He splashed. He splattered the entire front row, Wolf and Virginia included.

“Huff, puff,” that was uncalled for!” Wolf was on his feet, wiping mud from his sleeve. Then he caught a glimpse of Virginia, and gasped. She’d taken the brunt of the splash. Mud covered her shorts, her tank top, and, worst of all, plastered the right half of her face.

Wolf started to laugh. He couldn’t help it.

“Not funny!”

“Um, would you like a tissue?”

“Stop laughing!”

“Oh, come on. It really was awfully — “ he stopped, his head swiveling. “Meat! I smell meat! I’m starving — aren’t you?” Without waiting for an answer, Wolf propelled them in the direction of a booth proclaiming “Steak on a Stake.” Virginia stuck in her heels, slowing them down. “Oh come on, Virginia, it’s been hours since breakfast —”

“Not with all this mud on me. I have to clean up. I don’t want to spend the day in muddy clothes. I need to find a rest room or something.”

“It’s no time to rest, there’s Steak on a Stake!” He gave her his Aw-My-Dreamy-Girl-Just-This-Once look. Virginia clenched her teeth and trumped him with her Just-One-Minute-Buster look. Wolf knew when he’d been beaten.. “Okay. Let’s find you a -- wait a minute! What’s this?” He was pointing at a large shop directly across from the food booth. Colorful clothing swung from wooden poles under a sign stating “Rent-a-Renaissance-Rag.” It reminded Virginia all too clearly of the Snow White glass coffin site at Kissingtown. One look at Wolf’s expression confirmed her fears.

“Wolf, I really don’t want to --”

“Now Virginia,” he said a bit pedantically, as if he were a school teacher hammering home a lesson, “did you not just say you didn’t want to spend the day in those muddy clothes? Here’s a fine place willing to let you change your clothes and you’re saying ‘no?’”

“I don’t want to spend the money on this!”

“Pardon me, fair lady,” a voice said behind her. They looked up to see a small middle-aged man dressed in a blue doublet and hose and enormous feathered beret,clutching, incongruously, a clipboard. “I could not help but overhear thy conversation --”

“Eavesdropping? Not very nice,” Wolf said with a hint of annoyance. He looked down from his greater height at the short fellow...

“Not at all, sir, not at all. But I did happen to see your unfortunate incident upon yon Mudd Pitt, and wished to offer my apologies. Allow me to introduce myself. I be Lord Muffin, manager of this faire, and it distresseth me that you were inconvenienced.” “Lord Muffin” bowed deeply.

“Oh, well, in that case, thank you...” Wolf inclined his head, too. Virginia rolled her eyes and flicked dried mud off her nose.

“Thou art most welcome, sir, and madam. If I may, I would like to pay for a change of clothes for the day at this booth. Wear whatever thou wouldst like, ‘tis courtesy of the faire.”

Virginia started to shake her head, but more flakes of mud fell off, so she stopped. Wolf was grinning at the small man. “Wow — that’s great! Really nice of you. Isn’t that nice, my little cream puff?”

“Yeah, nice.” There was no way around it now.

“Um, they don’t happen to have a shepherdess outfit, do they?”

“Wolf!!”

Ten minutes later Virginia emerged from the booth. She’d chosen the lightest weight costume she could find, but she was sweltering. She’d kept her muddy sandals, but now wore a red and black wench outfit, complete with laced up bodice, three skirts and an off-the-shoulder blouse. She’d refused the dried flower wreath. At least they’d given her a wet cloth to clean up her face.

“Thou art most radiant, milady,” opined Lord Muffin.

“Yeah, okay, thanks..” The man bowed and scurried away, writing furiously on the clipboard.

“Scrumptious or WHAT!” Wolf bounded over to her, four steaks on stakes in his hands. “Wow! Virginia! You look good enough to eat! You should dress like this more often!” His eyes roamed all over her in a joyfully salacious way.

Well, she had to admit it was nice to be appreciated, even if she was probably going to faint from the heat. Then her eyes narrowed. “Hey — aren’t you going to change, too?”

“Heavens, no.” Wolf looked as if the idea was outrageous. “It’s much too warm. Besides, I don’t have mud all over me.” He gobbled one of the steaks in two bites. “Hungry?”

He was impossible. “No, thanks, I’m laced up too tight. But I could use a cold drink.”

“Of course, my saucy shepherdess, as you wish.” They paused at an open-air tavern and bought a couple of drinks, then wandered down a path lined by craft booths. Some of the wares were quite beautiful. Others were depressingly tacky. Virginia considered her wallet (now stowed in a little pouch) with alarm. “Everything here is so expensive!”

“Not everything, my love,” She looked up at Wolf. He was steering them to a ribbon-strewn wooden structure labeled “Kissing Bridge.” A chubby woman in a costume similar to Virginia’s stood at the foot of the bridge. “Thou must kisseth if thou would passeth,” she said in a bored voice.

“Okay,” Wolf said, and pulled Virginia into a smooch.

After a rather long time, the girl cleared her throat behind them. “Ahem..”

Wolf and Virginia kept kissing.

“Er....”

They changed position and kept kissing.

“Excuse me, um, yoohoo...”

Okay, this was bothersome. “Mmmm?” Virginia said, through the kiss.

The girl began to tap her on the shoulder. “You two are blocking the bridge. You need to — I mean, thou needst to move aside.”

“Okay.” Virginia and Wolf came up for air, only to be greeted by applause. At least twenty people were standing at either end of the bridge, clapping.

“That was great, man,” a scruffy guy in a WWF tee-shirt and a velvet cape cheered, clapping Wolf on the back as he passed him.

. “Happy to oblige.” Wolf grinned at Virginia, who was blushing in a shade similar to her skirt.

They crossed the bridge and found themselves at a small theater. A man and a woman were emoting on a wooden stage, and the audience was roaring with laughter. They moved closer, to see what was going on, and found seats on a bench.

“What is this?” Wolf furrowed his brow, in rapt concentration.

“Shakespeare, I think.”

“Which one is Shakespeare?”

“No, that’s the person who wrote the play. Ssshh.”

“Let him that moved you hither, remove you hence!” the actress emoted, pushing the man over with her foot.”I knew you at the first, you were a movable.”

Wolf nudged Virginia. “What’s a ‘movable?’”

The actor said, “What’s a ‘movable?’”

“Huh, he doesn’t know either,” said Wolf.

Virginia shrugged. “No one does. It’s Shakespeare.”

“Uh-huh.” He frowned.

“Thou hast hit it — come and sit on me!” the man proclaimed, pulling the woman onto his lap.

“Asses are made to bear, and so are you,” retorted the woman, hitting him.

“Women are made to bear, and so are YOU,” countered the man, patting the woman’s stomach.

Wolf sighed. “He’s talking about her being pregnant.” He looked pleased. “I understood that.”

There was more talk, about buzzing, buzzards, wasps and stingers, and Wolf laughed heartily at the rude lines. “What’s the name of this play?”

“I think it’s ‘Taming of the Shrew.’”

“Wow. I’ll have to keep this in mind if you start acting up.” Virginia smacked him on the arm. “Kidding! I was kidding!”

They watched the scene until it concluded, and then it was replaced by two other actors playing a scene from “As You Like It.” It wasn’t as funny and they slipped out.

The path on the other side of the theater was shaded by large trees, and Virginia was glad to be out of the sun. I guess the Faire isn’t TOO bad, she thought, just a little corny. And it didn’t really look like the villages back in the Nine Kingdoms because of all of the Pepsi, Kodak and Budweiser sponsorship signs. The faire-goers were a motley crew as well; just when she started to get the feel of a medieval village, someone walked by in muscle shirt and multiple piercings to jar her back to reality. But overall she had to admit it was okay.

Until they passed “Old MacDougall’s Petting Zoo Farm.

If she’d seen it coming, Virginia could have steered them in a different direction. But she hadn’t been paying attention — she’d been deep in thought about how nice it felt to be walking arm in arm with Wolf on a lovely, shady path. Then he stopped dead in his tracks and she bumped into him.

“Oooohhhhh...” he said. His eyes were wide, his mouth open. She followed his gaze. Across a little footbridge that spanned a pretty little stream, a small cottage stood, the kind of picturesque cottage big enough for elves to live in. But out in front of the building was the fluffiest, whitest, cleanest sheep she’d ever seen. It could have been a Peep sheep, it was so perfect.

And frolicking around it were four little grey bunnies.

And standing by them were three buxom lasses dressed as shepherdesses.

“Wollllfff...” she said, a hint of warning in her tone.

“Just a minute, just a minute, my sweet creamy dreamboat. Just a teeny, tiny, itsy-bitsy minute, my love.”

“Wolf!” It was hopeless. It wasn’t even near the full moon, but some things were evidently just beyond his control. He dusted the dried mud off his sleeve, straightened his collar and sauntered over to the cottage and its merry band of temptresses. Wolf sidled up to the white picket fence that corralled the sheep, leaned on it and smiled devastatingly. “Ladies...good afternoon,” he said in a smooth tone that Virginia recognized. It was the kind of tone that could get a wolf into grandma’s house even if he were carrying a chainsaw.“My, what a big, white sheep you have!”

The girls giggled.

The sheep bleated.

The bunnies fled.

Virginia pounced. “Gotta go. Let’s go. Go. Now.” She took him by the hand and dragged him away.

“But--”

“But nothing.” She pulled him into onto the bridge and turned him so his back was to the cottage. “What did you think you were doing?”

“I was just --” He paused, considering. “Actually, I have no idea.”

Virginia nodded. “Just as I suspected. You don’t even know when you’re doing it.”

“Doing what? What did I do?” Wolf whined, looking perplexed.

“You do that charming, seductive, ‘hellooo, girls,’ ‘wolf’ thing.”

He made a face. “Well, Virginia, I AM a wolf, after all.”

She sighed. “Yes, I know.”

“And sometimes a wolf just has to be — well, a WOLF.” He let his eyes flash at her and she could feel her annoyance melt. “This place just makes me feel very wolfish....” He let the words trail off and gave her a look full of love, lust and anticipation.

She glanced over her shoulder. “The woods are just over there,” she said in a low voice.

“Better run.”

The property where the faire was set up had been carved out of hilly woodlands, and Wolf and Virginia had no trouble finding a secluded spot. Inside the thick forest they could barely see the grounds and they felt secure that no one could see them. Virginia hadn’t put up much of a challenge as far as a chase went. She felt completely winded in the laced-up bodice and the moment they were out of sight she stopped in her tracks and let Wolf catch her.

They sank to the soft forest floor. Pine needles covered the ground, and giant ferns surrounded them as they settled comfortably into their private nest. Seconds later laces were undone and clothing was strewn about. Shortly after that they forgot completely about everything except each other.

Time passed. Shadows lengthened.

Virginia stirred.

Something had roused her from her blissful stupor.

“Steve, come back,” someone was saying. A burst of static answered him. “Yeah, Steve, I dunno, I thought I heard something howling. What’s your 20?” A static-filled voice answered, but Virginia couldn’t make out the words. “Okay, well, I’m gonna check the woods over here near the stables, in case there’s coyote or something.”

“Wolf!” Virginia hissed. Wolf, who had in fact recently been howling, lay next to her, a look of rapturous satisfaction on his face. He opened one eye.

“Yes, my delicious dumpling? What do you want? Your every wish is my command. You --mmmppphh!!” His eyes widened as Virginia clapped a hand across his mouth.

“Sshh! Someone’s coming...” Gingerly she extricated herself from under Wolf’s arm and lifted her head above the ferns. A huge man with a walkie-talkie was walking through the underbrush directly towards where they lay. Virginia could read “SECURITY” on the vast expanse of yellow tee-shirt that covered his sizeable gut. “He’s going to see us!”

“No he’s not.” Moving silently, Wolf reached over and pulled some of the large ferns over them, gathering the bright red skirt under their bodies with his other hand. “Don’t look at him,” he whispered. “They can feel your eyes.” Virginia didn’t question this — when it came to matters of hunters and prey, she gladly deferred to Wolf.

As the security man passed within three feet of them, Virginia kept her head down but had an intense urge to giggle. She stuffed her hand into her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut against tears of bubbling laughter. This was just too much! It would serve them right if they got thrown out for indecent exposure — all this naked lust in the great out of doors was bound to catch up with them sooner or later.

But the man moved on, and once he disappeared they started pulling on their clothes quickly, and in a matter of minutes were back on the path. True, she’d missed a grommet or two lacing up her bodice, and there were serious twigs and leaves in their hair (and, she suspected, in her underwear), but for the most part they looked as innocent as any other couple at the faire. Actually, quite a number of couples seemed to have twigs in their hair.

They rounded a corner and came upon a bunch of people standing in a semi-circle around a platform placed against a cliff. A throne sat on the platform, and on the throne sat a woman who could be no one but the queen. She looked exactly like a portrait of Elizabeth I that Virginia had seen in her World History class back in high school. Obviously the costumers at this faire had also seen it.

“Greetings, dear subjects!” boomed the queen. Her accent was much better than the mud man’s, sounding quite authentically English. “Let all come forward who would enter the Royal Costume Contest!”

Virginia looked around as people started to push through the crowd to join the queen on the platform. Soon it was crowded with faire-goers attired in magnificent royal garb, gypsy outfits made from two towels and a scarf, aluminum foil armor, yet another Xena Warrior Princess getup, two indeterminate elf-like costumes and a Klingon Warrior uniform. Virginia tried not to stare, but it was difficult. Wolf, on the other hand, seemed to be taking it all at face value. “Is that the queen?”

“Yes, Wolf, but you do know she’s not a real queen.”

He looked over at Virginia and snorted derisively. “Well, huff-puff, I know THAT, Virginia. Of course she’s not the real queen. Do you think I’m completely ignorant?”

Virginia looked at him contritely. “No, of course not. Sorry.”

“That’s better,” Wolf said, mollified. “I mean, she’s probably no more than a Countess. A real queen would never get this close to her subjects.”

“Wolf--” She stopped herself. Really, what did it matter?

“My lord, milady — “ A man in a courtier’s outfit was standing right in front of them, clearly addressing them.

“Um, yes?” Virginia said uncertainly.

“Wouldst care to join the contest?” He was pointing to the platform. The queen seemed to be looking right at them too.

“Oh, no, no thanks.” Virginia shyly tugged at her bodice and brushed a few leaves from her skirt.

“And you, sir?” The actor was speaking to Wolf, but for the life of her, Virginia couldn’t figure out why. After all, he was just wearing a blue shirt over a pair of chinos, the shirt untucked to cover his --

OhmyGOD! Wolf’s tail was sticking out the back of his trousers.

“A most excellent tail, sir,” the courtier said. “Most realistic.”

Wolf smiled proudly. “Why thank you, it’s--” He froze. His tail drooped.

A teenage girl standing next to them peered at his rear end. “Wow, how do you get it to do that?”

“Well, it, um, I, well,” he stammered, blushing, and looked wildly at Virginia, who offered no help.

“I mean, I just have this stupid tie-on tail, that they sell over at the Unicorn booth, y’know? I’d really like to have one like yours. Is it mechanical? Where’d you get it?” The girl turned to show him the long horse tail that was tied around her waist with a velvet ribbon. She waved her pert rear end at him flirtatiously and the tail swung back and forth. Wolf’s tail started to perk up a little. Virginia frowned. Clearly she was going to have to rescue him. Or murder him.

“It came from the Nine Kingdoms,” she said, putting her arm securely through his.

“Where is that, in the Village?”

“Yeah, Greenwich Village. Come on, Wolf.”

“Nay, then, Lord — Wolf, is it?” The queen had risen and was approaching them.

“Answer Her Majesty!” commanded the courtier.

“Uh, yeah, it’s ‘Wolf,’ that’s my name all right.” He sounded nervous. Could wolves be shot on sight in this kingdom?

“Well, my Lord Wolf, wouldst thou deny thy sovereign the favor of thy company upon yon platform?”

“Yes, I mean, no, of course not, I think, wouldst I what?” Wolf shot a perplexed look at Virginia, but before she could interpret for him, the queen offered Wolf her hand. He kissed it automatically, then found himself escorting her back to the throne...

Typical, thought Virginia. The actress-queen was smitten, too.

“‘Wolf?’” the girl tugged on her sleeve. “Wow, cool name. So, is that tail like his signature? Is it a real wolf tail?”

“Yes,” said Virginia, “I can absolutely assure you that it’s a real wolf’s tail. Excuse me.” She pushed her way through the crowd until she stood directly opposite the throne. Wolf was by now deep in conversation with the queen, who was fluttering her fan and flirting in a very unQueenlike way. Virginia thought she heard the woman giggle. My, my, she thought, what would Lord Muffin think of your performance, dearie?

As if she heard Virginia’s thoughts, the queen rose, pulled herself together, and started to choose the winners of the contest. A large floral wreath went to a woman in a truly spectacular court ensemble; a Renaissance Faire tee-shirt was awarded to a small child adorably costumed as a dragon. Now the queen picked up a tooled leather tankard and surveyed the male contestants. A knight clad in a remarkably real-looking suit of armor was the clear favorite. He stood up a little straighter, preparing to step forward to receive his trophy.

“And the award goes to --- Lord Wolf!”

There was a stunned silence, followed by bitter muttering and a raspberry. One or two women, including the teenager, applauded wildly.

The knight tottered away, removing his sweltering helmet. “Man, whatta rip-off! My costume is WAY better than his!”

“Yeah — he’s not really even wearing one. Just a stupid tail!” whined the knight’s squire, tugging off his beach-towel tabard. “You shoulda won, man.”

Wolf was grinning in a confused way, but cheerfully accepted the tankard. The queen offered her hand again. He kissed it again. She offered her other hand. He kissed that. She leaned forward --

“Okay, Lord Wolf, let’s go,” Virginia interrupted, turning him around.

“Your Majesty,” he said, swiveling back and bowing deeply.

Virginia piloted him away. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere and tuck in your tail. Maybe behind that booth --”

“Why?” Wolf stopped, considering aloud. “No one seems to mind. I mean, it just won an award! See?” He waved the tankard at her.”Virginia, LOOK at everyone! They’re all dressed like, like trolls, or elves, or this Xena person, she’s popular, no doubt about THAT, or — I mean, what is he supposed to be?” He pointed at an immensely fat man in a furry pelt and twisted horns. Virginia couldn’t put a name to what he was, and was a little afraid to try.

“I see your point.”

“Great!” He wagged his tail. “Boy THAT feels good.”

“Okay, just promise me you’ll tuck it in before we get back to New York.”

He made gesture at his temple that she knew well. “Wolf Word!” he vowed.

They sat down at the “Merrie Men” tavern to have a beer. Virginia ate a scotch egg. Wolf tried a turkey drumstick, after intimidating the sixteen-year-old cook by demanding an undercooked one. He made a face as he bit into it. “Weird taste.”

Virginia took a bite. “Mmm. It’s smoked, that’s why.”

“Well THAT’S barbaric!” But he ate the rest anyway.

After they’d finished, they strolled over to watch some minstrels play and then tried their skill at climbing the Jacob’s Ladder, which Virginia found herself to be better at than Wolf. His long limbs kept getting tangled in the ropes, and over and over again he tumbled face first into the straw. He regained his dignity at the test of strength, where he rang the bell twice.

“Thou art a mighty man indeed, Lord Wolf,” quipped Virginia, and gave him a kiss. He leaned down for another, but the sound of raised voices caught his attention. Something was happening in a clearing in front of them.

“Nay, sir, unhand me!” The woman’s voice was spunky, but there was a note of terror in it.

A man laughed. It was a deep baritone, and sounded completely evil. “Thou mayest try to resist me, Marian, but I will have thee!”

“What’s this?” Wolf left Virginia on the path and hurried up to the gathering crowd to see. He was taller than most of the people and over their heads saw a man of about his own age, dressed in black leather, dragging a young red-haired woman toward a clump of trees. The man’s clothing made him think of trolls. Another man, wearing green tights and a leather jerkin lay on the ground, seemingly dead or unconscious.

“Robin!” cried the woman, fighting the man’s grip.”Robin, save me!” She seemed to be speaking to the man on the ground.

“Be silent!” The man in black swung her around, holding her in a tight grasp. The woman struggled and kicked, but it was apparent he was too strong for her.

Wolf looked around. Everyone was watching, but no one was DOING anything. Huff, puff, THAT didn’t seem right! The man and his captive moved closer to the woods. Any minute now, they might disappear. Wolf saw the man on the ground start to move. He was waking up — but it was taking far too long. “Hey — hey, mister, get up!” he coached. Too slow, too slow.

“Why you ungrateful minion!” The man in black reached back and slapped to the woman across the face. At least it looked that way; there was something wrong about the timing between the action and the sound of the slap, but Wolf didn’t stop to analyze the problem. Vaulting across the open space, he grabbed the man away from the woman and punched him squarely in the mouth The man flew a few feet and landed in a jumbled heap next to the green-clad fellow, who nimbly scrambled out of the way.. The power of the punch shot painful shockwaves up Wolf’s arm to the shoulder, and he shook his hand hard to make the pins and needles go away. A little pain was worth it, if it saved a woman from A Fate Worse Than Death. He turned to accept her expressions of gratitude.

She wasn’t grateful. The red-haired woman was glowering at him, her face purple with rage. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you FREAK??!!!” She shoved past Wolf roughly and ran to where the man in black was stirring dizzily. “Chris — Chris, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Jeez— what happened?” he said hoarsely, rubbing his jaw. His lip was bleeding, and the woman dabbed at it with her sleeve.

She glared back at Wolf. “Some freakin’ jerk hit you!”

Wolf was completely baffled. Did this woman LIKE being manhandled? Was this some kind of sick love triangle he’d interrupted? And the name “freak” hurt. “I’m sorry,” he began. “I thought you were in danger --”

“Should I call Security?” The man in green looked eager to help, but kept a wide space between Wolf and himself..

Virginia appeared. “What happened?”

“He punched the Sheriff of Nottingham,” said someone in the crowd. It was the teenage girl with the horse tail. “Cool!”

“I think we should call Security,” repeated the man in green.

“But he slapped her,” Wolf offered weakly.

“No he didn’t! Didn’t you ever see stage combat before? He hit my hand! Like this!” The red-haired woman clapped her hands together in Wolf’s face. He jumped back, startled at the noise. “What’s wrong with you, anyway?”

“Well, I --”

Virginia stepped in angrily. NO ONE got to yell at Wolf but herself. “He’s not from here. He never saw a Renaissance Faire before. He got confused, that’s all”

“No I wasn --” Virginia elbowed him.”Yeah, that’s it. Sorry. No offense.”

The man in black got to his feet, steadied by the man in green. “It’s okay.”

“I can still get security.”

“Naw, Bruce, forget it.” Out of character, none of them had English accents. The Sheriff sounded like he was from New Jersey. He walked over to Wolf. They regarded each other in silence for a moment.

“I really am sorry.”

“Yeah,” said the actor.

“Is there anything I can do?”

The Sheriff thought for a moment, then leaned in to whisper to Wolf. Virginia strained to hear, but couldn’t.

“Oh sure, Okay, I can do that.”

“Thanks.” The actor started to walk away, then turned back. “Hey -- good hit.”

“Um, thanks?”

Then, as if by magic, everyone snapped back into the scene. “Come, Maid Marian,” ordered the Sheriff in an imperious tone, “the queen awaits!”

“I shall never wed thee, Sheriff!” protested Marian.

“And I shall not let thee succeed!” chimed in Robin Hood, drawing a sword.

“You’ll pay for this, Hood, with your life!” The Sheriff drew and a fight ensued.

Wolf had had enough of fights for one day. He turned away, looking a bit dejected.

“What did he ask you to do?”

“Who, the Sheriff? Oh, not much. He said he’s a jouster and if I go to the tournament, could I start the crowd cheering for him. That’s pretty easy, I guess. Hey, maybe he’ll win.” Virginia let out a chuckle. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. Except the Sheriff is the villain, and the villain always loses.”

“You mean the contest is fixed?”

“‘Fraid so.”

“Oh.”

They had completely circled the faire and were back by the Steak-on-a-Steak booth.

“Hungry?” Maybe Wolf just needed a snack to perk up.

“Not really.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin.’”

“Something.” She looked him in the eye.

He looked away. “She called me a freak.”

“That’s not true. You know it’s not!” Virginia put her arms around his waist. “You’re my knight in shining armor.”

He kissed her on the forehead. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Lord Wolf.” She looked around, then at her watch. “Maybe it’s time to go, what’cha think?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You go find a place to tuck in your tail and I’ll go change.”

Five minutes later Wolf returned, tail safely invisible and yet another Steak-on-a-Stake in hand. He was feeling much more cheerful.

Virginia was sitting on a bench in front of the Rent-a-Renaissance-Rag booth, looking annoyed.

“You’re not changed, my sweet shepherdess.”

“They lost my shorts.”

“What?”

“They lost my shorts! I get to go home dressed like this.”

Wolf was ecstatic. “Great!”

“Yeah, great. Port Authority, the subway, the lobby of our building, Mr. Murray, all that, and me dressed like a wench.”

“Like I said, great!”

Virginia sighed.

And so they boarded the bus.

Some miles later, Wolf whispered into Virginia’s ear, “I had a good time...”

“Yeah, it was fun, even with the security guard --”

“ --- and the mud -- ”

“ — and punching the Sheriff --”

“ — and losing your clothes —”

“ — and the sheep -- ”

“ — and the fake contest —”

“ — and the sheep --”

“Yeah, okay.” He pulled her close. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Virginia?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we there yet?”

THE END

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