Page 104 of Lorenzo

“Don’t insult my favorite medieval sport!”

“Aha. So the prim New England English Literature major comes out to play. Glad I can make your jousting fantasy come true,” I bow like some 17th century squire.

Whatever a squire is, anyway.

“Have you been to many fairs?” Em asks.

“When I was a kid. Not this Renaissance Faire, but same idea. Overpriced food, laughter, kids running all over the place.”

We walk toward the ticket office but they wave us in.

“I know these tickets must be expensive,” Em says. “How did they wave you through like that?

“Guess I just have that VIP aura,” I say.

“Your arrogance will get you everywhere, it seems.” Emily smiles as she utters this teasing insult.

Before I can retort, a buxom woman in period dress stops us.

“Would you like to rent a costume, you two?”

Emily turns to me with eager eyes.

“Sure. Why not,” I say, as the woman escorts us to her medieval booth near the purveyor stalls.

“Would you like to be a wench or a queen?” the woman asks Emily.

“She’ll be a wench,” I say, slapping her on her ass. “And how about a noble rake costume for me?”

“Quite in keeping with your character, Lorenzo,” says Em.

After I pay the woman, she drapes a velvet gown over Emily’s arms and leads her behind a curtain.

My costume is a bigger production. The woman brings a doublet of deep burgundy with brass buttons, and a cape.

Then she brings me a large sack-shaped garment I haven’t seen before.

“What is this?” I ask the woman.

“It’s a codpiece, sir. For the true Renaissance man.”

She holds it up higher, the bulbous form shifting like a sea cucumber in her grip. “Would you like to try it on over your hose?”

The codpiece looks ridiculous and intimidating at once.

“Sure, why not,” I say. “How do you, uh. Attach it?”

The woman cackles, then hands it to me. “Leather ties on the sides, sir. And if you need assistance, my squire will be by presently.”

“I’m fine on my own,” I say, retreating to the changing room.

Several frustrating minutes later, I emerge with the codpiece finally attached.

“Excellent job,” says the costume woman. Em claps her hands together in glee.

“You two look like genuine Renaissance folk. But you better come back to change into your regular clothes in an hour’s time. If you’re late, there won’t be any clothes to change back into.”

“Ha! She could have told us that before I gave her that enormous deposit,” I say to Em, once the woman’s out of earshot.