TheBanyanTree: Three Down One To Go

[Russ Doden]

Three Down One To Go

Three weekends of the Oklahoma Renaissance Festival at The 
Castle of Muskogee are now in the books.  What a weekend it 
was too.  All week long I had been watching the weather 
forecast.  At first it was looking to be rather comfortable, then 
they started inching the forecast temps upward.  Then they 
were raised even higher and higher.  Finally the weekend 
arrived.  Friday night I loaded up my stuff and since my 
neighbor was returning to faire once again, I went down to 
collect her and to load her stuff as well.  We got down to our 
camp site and unloaded all of our stuff.  The weather was quite 
warm with the promise of the next day being even warmer.  

Saturday dawned bright and clear.  During "morning meeting" 
everyone was advised to take proper precautions because the 
forecast was for record setting highs.  I looked around and had 
to chuckle to myself.  After all, here we all were, in garb 
representing so many layers of cultural and economic strata.  
Everything from lowly beggars to Royalty and hardly no one 
was wearing lightweight garb.  Long sleeves were common, as 
were high boots among the gents.  No one thought anything 
about it, other than to make a mental note to drink more water 
than usual and to take a few extra breaks.  The old theatrical 
adage of "the show must go on" includes hot weather.  

As the day progressed, the entire cast and company, myself 
included, seemed to draw energy from the crowd in spite of the 
fact that the temperatures were in the upper 90's fairy height.  
Where it would have been easy to sit back and say "it is just 
too hot" we found ourselves giving that much more, and at the 
same time drawing even more back from the crowd in return.  
By the time closing time came around it would have been easy 
to say "Time for a shower and rest" but such was not to be.  
Saturday night was the Kings Feaste which for many of us 
meant a quick shower, change of attire (or just a sponge bath a 
clean shirt in my case) and a return to our roles.  Many of the 
entertainers were scheduled to perform during the feast.  It can 
be difficult to step out in front of a great hall filled with people 
either in the midst of a splendid feast or waiting for the feast 
when you know your own meal will be much later.  

There is a large room off to the side of the great hall of The 
Castle that during the day is a place for patrons to have a bit of 
rest and maybe a nice sandwich.   The "Garden Room" is what 
it is called.  That eve we called it the "peasants quarters" as 
that was the staging area for the serving folk, entertainers, and 
various and sundry helpers.  We set up camp so to speak there.  
Eventually we found ourselves getting bowls of stuff that were 
brought out to us from the kitchens after they were sure the 
paying patrons were being taken care of.  A tray of cheese 
here, and a bowl of grapes there would appear.  A small mound 
of long loaves of bread with tubs of butter found their way to 
the peasants quarters as the next "remove" of the feast was 
being carried into the Great Hall.  Often about the time you 
found yourself grabbing a bit of bread or cheese, your act 
would be called to go and do another song or two.  At long last 
all of the guests were served and there was a moment to bring 
something into the peasants quarters for us to feed on.  Cornish 
game hens were in one bowl; spiced potato wedges and baked 
carrots in another bowl.  Great heaping bowls were brought to 
the peasants quarters - for there are many peasants to put on a 
show of this type and many work for just the pleasure of it, and 
the hope of a good feed when all is done.  Where the visitors 
had nice plates, napkins and eating utensils, we set to with bare 
hands.  We laughed about the fact that we may have been 
enjoying the feast more since we were eating with fingers 
instead of forks, holding food in bare hands instead of setting it 
on plates.  Of course then there would be the call of "Queens 
Gambit up next, Bedlam Bards in 5 minutes" which meant go 
wash fingers and face to get ready to do the next song, hoping 
your bit of food would still be where it was left when you 
returned.  Sometimes it was, sometimes someone else had 
helped you with part of it.  Of course you returned the favor 
when they went out.  We were truly peasants and bards, each 
of us acting well and truly the part of being "below the salt" in 
the social pecking order.  As one serving wench put it, we 
should really be out in the corner of the great hall, as our 
behavior was perhaps just as, if not more entertaining, as our 
real entertainment!

At long last the feast was over and clean up started.  Those on 
the cleaning crew set about their task while the rest of us 
packed up our instruments and went to our evenings rest.

The next morning dawned through scattered clouds - 
thickening clouds.  As we were preparing for the day we heard 
the tappety-tap-tap of sprinkles on the roof of my rolling yurt.  
Oh please, don’t rain.  Yes we need the rain, but not on faire 
day!  It was only a little sprinkle as it turned out.  Sunday was 
cooler but that didn't seem to matter over much to the cast, 
performers and crew.  The energy level was still high and we 
could feed on that energy level even though everyone was still 
tired from the previous night.  

Another day of singing sweet songs, as well as bawdy ballads, 
sneaking a few tunes off the new Bedlam Bards album for the 
"Browncoats" from Firefly.  (This is a blatant plug.  If you 
know that that means, you would love the album, if not, it 
won't make any sense.)  Another day of playing with the 
patrons, and even though it may not be very obvious, giving 
them a little food for thought about the time we are 
representing, even if it is in a sanitized, stylized manner.  A 
time when peasants bowed low before those of higher stature, 
a time when language was mostly spoken rather than written, a 
time where imagination was used, a time long before instant 
gratification and "electronic anything" was even dreamt of.  

On Sunday, during our first "bawdy set" in the Black Boar 
pub, the true duo known as The Bedlam Bards surprised your 
humble scribe.  I'm not a "regular" part of their act you see.  I 
only perform with them at this one event.  They tolerate my 
intrusion into their act with rare good grace - yet every year 
they try to make me feel ever more important and a valuable 
addition to the act.  This year was no exception.  At the 
beginning of the set, after we did our first song, they made an 
announcement about how I'm truly an "honorary" Bedlam 
Bard.  To show me their appreciation, they presented me with 
a wonderful and treasured belt pouch that had been made by a 
crafter at the festival.  The pouch is made of buffalo hide and is 
something that will last for a very long time - and be used by 
your humble scribe for a long time to come.  To say I was 
touched is putting it mildly.

Now, here I sit on Monday morning.  Muscles that are not used 
to being used in the way they were aching.  Wearing clothes 
that while very nice and well made, just don't seem to fit quite 
as comfortably.  Walking down the hall of the office building 
(or where ever the various faire folk may work during the 
week) and realizing we don't "clank and rattle" as we walk - 
and missing it.  Why clank and rattle?  Because over the 
weekend bags with things needed are over the shoulder, 
tankards or goblets are hung from the belt, and if you are 
"below the salt" you will most likely have an eating bowl or 
some such hanging off the belt as well.  At faire when you 
walk, you "rattle and clank" because you carry all you need 
with you.  Here at work, everything is different.  I'm in an air-
conditioned office, with modern clothes, only carrying what I 
need, and living better than any "Royal" ever dreamt of.  So 
why do I sit here looking at my clothes thinking they look 
funny?  Why do I miss the "rattle and clank" as I walk?  Why?  
Because I am one of the Faire Folk, those demented souls who 
need that "performers fix" and get it in our own unique way.  

Till the next episode, which will be the last of this series,
God Speed, and Fare Thee Well!  Huzzah!

Andrus the Bard