Page 67 of Chivalry in the Meadow
He geared up and began to shoot while they watched him.
The archer was so smooth he could shoot an arrow and have the next in his bow, ready to shoot, his movements smooth and unbroken, like a dancer.
They both applauded when he done, and he took a bow.
“How long have you been shooting archery?” Lilly asked.
“Since I was ten.” He said. “I had a child’s training bow and wanted to be Robin Hood.”
“And look at you now,” Mia said smiling. “Very impressive.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I hope you’ll both try archery again. It’s a lot of fun.”
“Maybe after my hand heals,” Lilly said. “Thank you.”
“Thanks, Scotty,” Lilly said.
“You’re welcome, ladies,” he said. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“We will!” Lilly called back to him as they headed back over to the belly dance stage.
Just in time too, as the dancers were arriving.
The ladies found seats and prepared to watch.
Fascinated by the music, the costumes and the dances, the belly dance hour flew by.
“Wow! That was awesome,” Lilly said.
“It really was!” Mia stood. “Are you going to ask them?”
“Sure,” Lilly said. “You always leave it to me to do the asking. I was proud of you for stepping up with Sir Alaric.”
Mia shrugged but grinned.
“Ladies,” Lilly said, as she stepped over to the dancers who were packing up their music and their props. “How hard is this dance to learn and do you know anyone who gives lessons?”
By the time they left they had two business cards and a bunch of places they could go on the internet to see the different styles of the dance and the different troupes and soloists.
“Wow, I had no idea there was so much to it, “Lilly said. “So many different types and groups. We ought to take a class.”
“That sound like fun,” Mia said.
“Then we’ll do it.” Lilly nodded.
They headed back the way they had come.
The festival glowed beneath a sky deepening from rose to indigo. Torches burned along the paths, their flames flickering in the breeze, and the air was thick with the mingled scents of roasting meat, spilled cider, and trampled herbs. Music still drifted from the minstrel’s tent, but the notes seemed muted under the heavy hush of approaching night.
Mia and Lilly lingered near the food stalls, laughing over the giant turkey legs they had finally ordered, when they realized the crowd around them had thinned.
“It’s a Sunday night, do you supposed most people have gone home?” Mia asked.
“I’ll bet a lot of them don’t get Monday off work, so that sounds likely, and they don’t have an evening joust on Sundays,” Lilly said.
The larger festival square was still bustling, but here between the ale tent and a row of cloth merchants, the light was dimmer, the noise distant.
“It feels weird not to have so many people all around,” Mia said.
