Knight felt like he was a draft animal, as Mal was in his glory.
Their first day at Pennsic, and Mal was buying out all the English Renaissance dealers in the marketplace. Knight got stuck carrying it all. But he did it with a smile, because he was happy to see his lover take to the Society for Creative Anachronism almost like a fish to water. He wasn’t thrilled with the porta-potties, or the fact there was no shower – yet. Knight was going to rectify that by going to the East Kingdom and making them an offer.
Yet he had to still carry around all these clothes, enough for a week or more, while Mal wore one of Knight’s plain green tunics. “You would look good in this,” Mal said, showing him a velvety shirt with huge holes in the sleeves.
“Ain’ my persona,” Knight said. “I’m a wanderin’ knight. I don’ have fancy shit.”
“What about this kilt?”
“I ain’ Scottish.”
Mal pouted, “You’re no fun.”
Knight grinned. “I dress usefully.”
They carried the items back toward the parking lot, took a left and went into a copse of trees, where they had slept in their leopard forms the night before. Mal changed quickly, as he was wont to do, and after Knight did all the tying and pouffing and pulling, he stepped back to look at Mal and all he could think of was getting it all off of him.
He wore a doublet with pants that puffed out to his knees, and tights with soft shoes. He put on a feathered cap and gave Knight a haughty grin. “The clothes make the man,” he said, and bowed to his lover.
Knight fought the want to strip him right there. They brought all the items to the bike, and locked them up in one of the hard cases that Kitty had for just these kinds of jaunts. Knight put on his full armor, strapping his shield to his back and a sword at his side. He started to go back into camp. “Y’ c’n come with me ‘r you c’n go find–”
“I’ll go with you,” Mal said.
A man walking in full armor on a day when there was no fighting caught some looks. He approached the East Kingdom gates, tucked his helmet under his arm and went up to the gates. There were no guards there, it not being War Week, so he knocked at the side of the makeshift door.
A woman came to answer it. “Hello, sir.”
“Not a knight,” said Knight, “Ye cannot call me ‘sir’, m’lady.” Knight smiled at her, “May I see ye master at arms?”
“He’s not here right now.”
“May we wait?”
“Uh…” She looked around. “Sure. Come on in.”
Knight stepped aside for Mal, who entered, bowing over her hand. “I thank the kind lady for allowing us to wait inside.”
The girl giggled, as Mal kissed her hand. There was a table and chairs nearby, and the girl let them sit there. Mal sat, while Knight stood above him protectively.
A short time later, the master at arms came in, a woman. “Greetings, sir,” said Knight, and Mal stood up from the chair.
“The Black Knight. It’s good to see you this year.” The woman shook Knight’s hand firmly. “And who’s this?”
“My partner, sir knight. Malcolm.”
“At your service,” Mal said, bowing.
The woman nodded to Mal. “You’re going to fight with us?”
Knight said, “We need a place. I know that the space here is at a premium, and we will, of course, pay our way…”
“Let me ask the king if you two can claim some land here. Do you have a tent?”
“We have nothing. Just us and our clothes.”
She frowned. “Let me see. I’ll be right back.”
The two men stood around, and then the woman came back leading with three other men. One wore a crown. Knight went to one knee and tugged on Mal’s doublet for him to do the same.
“Get up, Knight,” said the man with the crown with a laugh. “And you too, sir.”
“Your majesty. Hello, Gentry,” Knight said to one of the men. “And Brock.”
“Ready for a fight, huh?” said Brock, giving Knight a shove, and laughing.
“Always, my friend.” The two men hugged briefly. “This is my partner, Malcolm.”
Mal bowed again.
“Well, I never thought you would have batted for the other side, Knight,” Brock said jokingly, and held out a hand to Mal. “Cinder will love you. She loves High Ren. Has wanted to get me into that stuff for years.”
“We will stay with you?” Knight asked.
“Yes, but can you do me a favor?”
“What’s that?”
Brock whispered into Knight’s ear, “If you’re going to fuck, try not to make the noises you’re famous for.”
Knight’s ears went red and the blush crossed his features, as Mal looked at his lover curiously, and then laughed. “That must have been something, to get Knight embarrassed like that.”
Brock only grinned. “We know him too long.”
“Good,” said the king, “I’m glad that’s settled. I wouldn’t have wanted to see you go to the Middle.”
“I would not have liked to go, your majesty.”
“Besides, who’s going to give you your knighthood?” the king grinned.
Knight backed off and looked away, back to his lover. Mal smiled at Knight, sensing his discomfort. Brock put his hand on Knight’s shoulder. “Come on, let me show you to our place.”
Brock’s place was known as The Den. Knight put his shield out front to show that he was in residence, then followed Brock into the tent. Children ran about underfoot. “We had this set up for Lochlan and his lady-wife, but they’re not coming. If you could help us with take-down, we’d appreciate it.”
“Of course. And cooking, and cleaning, and anything else you need,” Knight said.
“Did you just volunteer me?” asked Mal, as they went into the spacious tent.
“I will help with the cooking,” Knight said again. The tent was big enough for him to stand up take two steps inside. “It would be the least I can do.”
“Sure, I don’t think Tanya will mind. You can talk to her. Now get out of that armor and take your partner around town.”
“When do we muster?”
“Next week. Relax, will you?” Brock laughed and closed the tent flap.
Knight looked at Mal, and took two steps toward him. Knight smelled of metal, sweat, and leather. He leaned forward and kissed Mal deeply.
A young man’s voice cried out, “Oh! Sorry!” Knight pulled his head up and saw the tent flap swing in the wind. Holding Mal’s hand in one of his, Knight pushed open the tent flap and looked out. A young man in a simple tunic, doublet and pants standing on the other side of the small courtyard created by the tents surrounding it.
Knight led Mal out, and stood in the courtyard holding Mal’s hand. The young man looked at Knight, then Mal, then their hands, back to Knight. “I – I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Mal said gently, releasing Knight’s hand. “What’s your name?”
“Which one?”
Mal chuckled, “Which one should we call you?”
“Tyler’s fine.”
“Tyler. I’m Malcolm, this is Knight.”
“I know Knight.”
Knight raised an eyebrow, “You do?”
“You beat my dad a couple of times.”
“Brock?”
“No, Sir Doullet.”
“He’s a good knight,” said Knight. “A fair and honest fighter.”
Mal said, “Would you be interested in being my valet?”
“Valet?”
“Yes, someone who would, well, take me around and be my assistant when my big, overprotective brute of a fighter isn’t around.”
Tyler brightened. “Sure, I’d love to.”
Mal grinned, “Then let’s all get to know each other, shall we?”