The Tales of Aleezabet.

Well, Aleezabet was a feisty young woman beloved by her family who wishes to on the occasion of this Pennsic attempt to behave! No laughing here, I am watching. The beloved daughter of heart Ismenia and her Lord Ragnar suggested to her that there was a like spirit coming to the throne of the East, Princess Isabella. Since, Bet's Don, Arioch (the primary suggester of good behavior) had asked Bet to make a good presence for the fencing community, Lord Ragnar and Lady Ismenia suggested to Bet that she offer in her own Aleezabet (non-arse kissing manner) to be of service to Isabella as guard.

Many times did Aleezabet and Ragnar venture forth cross-hill and dale in search of the fair Princess and her entourage of secretaries Day after blistering day due to fate and naughty dragons the Princesses’ secretaries did not arrive. Finally, realizing that action was necessary, the Princesses beauteous and loyal friend Cadesha formulated a Book of Tasks and Takers and Aleezabet's name was entered. She was to guard, first the Princesses day, and lastly her night.

As day duty began, the hot wind of the Sheringhti, raked the tents and tarps of the Mongol encampment in which the Princess resided. Mussing Bet's hair (a Pennsic bleached fright) and the blue-black satin skirt over her petticoats, as she sat outside the Royal tent; the Princess slept. Bet sang lullabies. M'Ladies consort gifted Bet with ice water in his own Royal goblet. Bet was fed hand made ice cream from the Princesses own creamery. And, though many sought her attention, Bet allowed no one to pass her guard. The Princess slept on in a bed of down curtained with paisley drapes and gold trim.

The Princess woke. Rays of sun tinged with the pink of sunset followed the Princess to the gape in the pavilion as she stretched. She hid her glorious white-toothed yawn behind a hand revealing much of the hard work she had done for her Kingdom. After reading the notes left for her by loving peers, she claimed her basket of toiletries and we were off to bath.

The bathhouse was a buzz with workers and smiling, the Princess greeted them, thanking them for their work. She bowed to the supreme necessity of their task and said she would return when they were done. Off we went in a swirl, her colthtide's skirt brushing against the side of her barefooted ankles.

The encampment behind the bathhouse swarmed with children, from pint-sized cherubs to elfin toddlers and all that could, clustered about the feet of our princess with arms outstretched. Little ones climbed her legs like maypoles in the spring. Babies cooed in her arms as if in those of their mother. Good wife's and gallant husbands alike came to great her and myself with mugs of lemonade. It was a joyous time, wreathed with smiles.

Upon the dispersal of the wee ones by their parents; we were off to the bath again. I stood sword drawn at bath house gate, guarding my princesses honor. Many maids shared the staccato patter of fresh water upon silken skin and as the princess emerged, dew covered, the sun finally set. I escorted the Princess home.

Tales of Aleezabet Day Two part 1

"Oh, my!" "Oh dear," Aleezabet paced the oriental rug under the green gazebo tent tarp. "Lord Ragnar is banned by the dreaded King Dubious and Princess Isabella has invited him to accompany me as guard tonight! This could get dicey!"

"Dear," said Bet to Ragnar, "We best go and ask the Princess if it is still all right for you to accompany us this evening." "We wouldn't want the Princess getting in Dutch with the King!" So the metal dragon was brought forth and on its wings Bet and Ragnar made haste to the princesses’ enclave.

Princess Isabella was dishabille when Bet found her. Her mane of jet-black hair spun about her head a gleam like a turban of the finest black satin, tendrils draping her forehead and before her shell-like ears. Her gown a soft warm grey of a dove's belly. Her form swayed beneath its soft folds reveling nothing of its joys to the late afternoon sun. Bet ran to her. "Princess, I must ask your indulgence, please a moment?" The Princesses reached forth her hand and bid Bet to walk with her. "M'Lord....Princess,” Bet stammered, “ M'Lord is banished what will I do? What do you desire? I will bow from your presence if you would be more comfortable?" Aleezabet caste her eyes downward and held her breath. "Perhaps it would be better for neither of us to accompany you tonight?" Bet's shoulders fell forward, bereft.

The Princess bristled like a mother porcupine defending her young. "I am the Princess," she said in a most forceful tone. You and your Lord will most certainly accompany me this eve after court. "I will do as I see is best!" Isabella's eyes flamed. "Queen Elizabeth would have none of this and neither will I. Everyone has a right to their own belief's. I will banish none for following the dictates of their own morals.” “The revel will begin at nine Aleezabet. We will meet here." Hugging Bet warmly the Princess rushed off to be more formally attired.

The Eve Begins

The sun set with in a yellow-orange plop on that sizzling Pennsic eve. The temperature drop brought a heat haze to the hollows in the rutted dirt roads. Under strict orders from her Princess not to wear confining uncomfortable clothes for this eve's revels; Aleezabet and Lord Ragnar set forth into the gray night. The Mongol encampment, host to the Princess was quiet. High court had not finished and the Princess was nowhere in sight. A stray Mongol lolled upon the dinner board 'mongst the clutter of candle holds and royal purple clothes. Dreadlocks covered the Mongols dirty blonde head and he snored. A Lady in Waiting to the Princess arrived and like a character from Alice; she entertained Ragnar and Bet with tales of King Darius and the fair Isabella. Lord Richard, Isabella's consort returned and he and Ragnar approached their cup in all seriousness.

As the evening star rose in the sky the Princess returned in a swirl of skirts and attendants. Bet followed the throng into the Royal bedroom. The room was a swarm with attendants, the Princess instructed Aleezabet on the art of disrobing from
Elizabethan Court garb. Aleezabet shielded the Princess with her cloak as best she could. The Princess dressed as a country wench matching Bet's attire but in a far more glamorous manor. Arm and arm they left the tent to find Lord Richard and fill their cups. T’was fine whisky and mead for all and the entourage was off to shop in earnest and not just for fine garb but also for stout lads for the Princesses Friday eve gala.

Aleezabet's Walk-a-bout

Like a gaggle of geese waddling and clucking behind their mother, the Princesses' entourage, Aleezabet 'mongst the many, proceeded to the merchants quarters. The Princesses' silver coronet shone brightly in the lantern light. Aleezabet, her sword hilt firmly in hand, warily wove between pillar and post, supplicant and servant, fool and fowl, in a heroic attempt to keep up with the Princesses pace.

Fire dancers dotted the common area of Merchants Row with flaming stick and balled fire in mace like pots, a twirl 'mongst the merrymakers. Each shopkeeper greeted her Royal Highness with warmth beckoning her inside; luring her with fine drink and garments of great rarity.

Dancers garments, of bangle and bead, sparkled before the eyes of the Lady's in the group. Princess Isabella pounced kitten-like on a dress strewn with gold bangles. The Princess dashed, with merchants in tow, behind row of garments to try on her find. Aleezabet gasped. Quickly ripping the cloak from her shoulders and standing on tiptoes she used the cloak to shield the Princess from peeking eyes. Lord Ragnar was called to assist. He grasped one end of the cloak helping Aleezabet shield the Princess in all her glory!

At a closed shop the Princesses, Bet close at heels, stopped. "I know you’re in their friend." The Princesses shouted. Parting the tent flap, she entered; a sweet wind of perfume followed her into the shop. From the back room the shopkeepers peeped forth, than rushed forward to lovely hug the Princess. Bet squeezed into a corner between the chemises and the bodices.

"Will thee drink with us Lady?" The shopkeeper bowed, a bit unsteadily, creamy orange concoction in hand. "Would any of you like a cool drink?" the Princess said looking back at us, "I am sure they are all parched." She said with great concern. Lord Ragnar's cup and Lord Richard's were held forth and filled with the sweetest of drinks. Bet stayed in the bodices smiling. Bet only drank Irish whiskey! The ganders left the shop a bit tipsier than they had entered.

"My," said the Princess to Lord Ragnar "You have a bit too many articles of clothing on Lord." Her toothy smile lit the darkness, as her eyes dropped to Lord Ragnar's black breeches. Bet frowned. "Where are we off to my Princess?" Bet said fearfully. "Why to The Men Without Pants party Bet." The Princess replied. Both Aleezabet and Ragnar turned an identical shade of green in the purple shaded darkness. Aleezabet could swear she heard Ragnar gulp. "But, I am famished now!" said Princess Isabella "Shall we dine?"

Aleezabet took Ragnar aside whispering for him to search the shops 'long the way for a longer tunic or a kilt. As luck would have it, or not, since Aleezabet was the shopper in the family; Ragnar could not find what he needed. His knees knocked in anticipation.

The crowded restaurant held the group tightly knit, stitched in chairs and 'pon stools ringing the Princess. Her guards kept the populous from interrupting her meal. Ragnar slipped into the scene and sat beside Bet. Bet with one eye on her Princess, at all times, and a hand on her Lord's knee tried to consol him. "You have lovely calves dear, 'twill be a fine sight," she chuckled. Taking her at her tease and his courage in hand, he went to the Princess and offered to de-pant on the spot! "Oh no," the Princess laughed "not here!"

Aleezabet felt heartily sorry for her shy Lord. The Princess also took pity on his plight. With true kindness the Princess let Lord Ragnar return home in his pants after promising him Aleezabet would be brought safely home to him at her duties end.

Lord Ragnar’s burly form disappeared into the night. His blistered limp quite distinctive 'mongst the throng. Aleezabet sighed, glad to have helped him out of a sticky wicket but also missing him already. Bet was not quite sure what would be awaiting her, but her eyes were a twinkle. Lord Gunther had been assigned by the Princess fair to assist Bet in navigating the ominously dark pebble coated paths for the evening.

Now, something must be said here about Lord Gunther. Fey tall was he with golden locks to mid-back. His eye the indistinct color of the night neither gray nor black nor brown. Being a high born Lord he had worn hose which had been dispensed with upon the Princesses request; though in what dimly lit way this had happened Aleezabet was not sure. Bet had never blushed this much in her entire life. Why the intrigues of the court where absolutely making her feel a naive and antiquated oldster.

Gunther held out his hand to Aleezabet. As the gaggle of ganders rose to follow their Princess into the night; Gunther, placing lips to the back of Bet's hand, helped her rise though she blustered. " Lord I can stand on my own." He laughed. "No harm shall come to you this eve Lady," Gunther chortled. "Nor to you Lord." Aleezabet grasped the sword hilt firmly and the duo commenced with their amble behind the Princess.

Like ships that pass in the night, so were the Prince and his Princess. "My Prince," Isabella lilt was heard in the darkness, as a band of loudly laughing men passed. "What calls you out on this fine eve?" The Prince kissing Isabella's hand replied. "I was studying a bit of history in a friends encampment." Isabella's laughter filled the air. "So, my Prince," she said. "You were at the Wet Chemise Party?" "I was...well, I was, goodness where does the time go!" the Prince said with a smile and a wink. "Would you join us at the Men with No Pants Party My Princess?" "I must decline fair one," said he with an embrace, "for I have battle in the early morn." The Prince and his followers melted into the mob of partygoers.

There we so many folk out and about that eve that if not for Cadesa's blood red clothing Gunther and Bet would have surely lost "Isabella the Fleet". Nature's call halted the onward rush for Bet and Gunther. Bet guarded Lord Gunther now, but the entourage unaware of his plight sped onward. Luckily Bet caught Lord Richard, Isabella's consort as he passed. Bet was a fiery woman but a bit wee. She could no longer follow, by eye, the passing of the Princesses followers. Lord Richard being of a grand height could still see where they were going. Nature, having released Gunther from its grip, allowed the three to rush forward at a most un-lady like pace.

They arrived at the castles battlements to find it heavily guarded by their hosts men. A barrel chested ogre of a man sat squatting and grumbling at the entrance. His sharp eyes and haunch like mitts thoroughly inspected the age of all to enter this place of debauchery. But he was only the beginning! Aleezabet preceded Gunther through the gates. Her sword drawn and glimmering in the torchlights. A gauntlet of drunken women, I will not say Ladies, was before them. Looking backward at Gunther Aleezabet said, "No one will touch you Lord that you do not wish too." Gunther smiled. Aleezabet was in earnest. Her drawn weapon and her assurance that Lord Gunther was, in fact, all ready checked for pants got him through unscathed.

Evening Two - The Circle of Fire - Temptation

The gauntlet of debauched woman passed, Gunther and Aleezabet settled into the circle formed around the fire pit where their Princess stood. The firelight red orange danced in Aleezabet's hair and over her skin. Drunken lads and lassies writhed to the beat of dombec. Many of the men danced in abandon around the bonfire, alone, lost in their own inner rhythms. Aleezabet stood rigid near Gunther and the other guards.

It seemed the Princess was still shopping. Shopping for additions to Her service for Friday's revels. Bronzed Scots men approached in kilts, tall sinewy Vikings in thigh high tunics, randy Arab's with jet black eyes in loose silk caftans; preened before the Princess. "Who will she choose?" Aleezabet thought. Looking toward her Princess at just the right, or wrong moment, a handsome young Irishman lifted the rear of his kilt for the Royal entourage to view his accouterments; Bet blushed furiously.

Aleezabet sorely missed Ragnar. Most of the partygoers were coupling off and she could see Gunther, his eyebrow lifted in interest, gazing toward a particularly attractive wench. Aleezabet looking around her noticed another of the Princesses guard who did not seem to be enjoying himself.

A healer born, she went to his side to ask the matter. She did not know his name. She did know, from the aid he had given her the past few days; he was a kind man and in pain. "What ails you friend?" Aleezabet queried. "I have been escorting her Highness all week, every eve. He said, "And my old feet and legs feel like tree stumps. I swear there is no blood at all in them." He sighed.

"Please," Bet said. "Come lean against the trunk." He looked down at her with a twinkle in his eye. "Here," she pointed to the bole of a large tree, its bark black and warm partly facing the bonfire. "Lean against the tree so your weight is off at least one leg." Bet said.

Aleezabet crouched at his feet, sitting on her heels. She began to knead the guard’s calves. His head lolled backward a bit and his eyelids fluttered. Bet worked the muscles of his calves the best she could and then gently went upward toward his knee. The guard chuckled. Bet tilted her head back and said in a VERY serious voice. "You are safe Lord I am only trying to help you. I will not take advantage. He laughed, seeming to think the thought of such a wee woman taking advantage of him to be quite funny. However, Aleezabet worked in all seriousness. In moments, she unknotted the strands of tense muscles in his legs and not without making him dance a bit from the depth of her work. her hands, as strong, if not stronger then most men's.

"So you thought I was just trying to get up your kilt did you Lord?" Now, it was Bet's turn to chuckle. He smiled softly now, down at her. "I can actually feel my feet now Lady. Thank you so much." Reaching downward, he lifted Bet by her hand from her frozen crouch.

Aleezabet had a plan. She sought Gunther out and tried to persuade him to let the injured Pirate guard escort her home. "So, the two old folk can get some rest." Bet pointed to the limping pirate guard. "And you can find a more interesting Lady to be with?" But, since both men were true blue, each declined to leave what they felt was their duty to the Princess and Bet. The Pirate guard would not leave the Princesses side though in pain and Gunther would not leave Bet's.

Gunther assured Aleezabet that the Princess had commanded him to watch over her and take her home to Ragnar, whenever, she wished. Aleezabet smiled at the two gracious men. Bet and Gunther asked their leave from Princess Isabella.

The Bog was so dark. Feet from the encampment neither road nor bridge nor steam was discernible. Locked arm in arm and hand in hand, Bet and Gunther attempted to find the correct gravel rut homeward.

The sky opened. Rain began to fall in earnest. Remnants of Noah's call for, two by two, flashed with the lightening through Bet's mind. Her hair and Gunther's hung in Medusa like snakes from their heads. Their clothes, she had no doubt, at least her blouse, was transparent. Thank God it was pitch black out. Aleezabet could only imagine how very romantic this would all have been had she been with Lord Ragnar. She sighed and stumbled, Gunther pulled her upright before her bottom hit the mud packed road.

They reached Aleezabet's camp with its torches still guttering in the rain around
3 am. Like two drowned rats they sat a moment more under the gazebo. Bet got some good Irish whiskey to warm Gunther's bedraggled form on his way back to his camp and offered him a dry cloak. He declined with a smile. The gallant Lord went off into the darkness. Bet went to her Ragnar. Cuddling wet and icing near his warmth, she slept. "Hmmm," thought Bet as she drifted off to sleep. There was a man without pants here too!

Ladies Night Out

Aleezabet had fretted all week about tonight. Wanting to have fun, wanting to please her Princess but not knowing exactly how much abandon she could muster up; when the object de desire was not her Lord Ragnar! The Princess had tentatively approved her piratesque attire and Bet had gone out and gotten a matching hat. The hat was topped with maroon and black feathers and a gold threaded hatband sans pearl stickpin. She did looking stunning, if scantily clad, in her taffeta bloomers and maroon fleur de le dotted corset. Bronze earrings dangled daintily along side of her swanlike neck. But, she had no idea if this would please the Princess, or be in line with the tour de force of the garb Nazi's. You never new when they would attack! Bet took a deep breath, which caused her chest to rise most pleasantly above the corsets crest.

The sky darkened ominously. Billowing black clouds rolled across the horizon. The wind picked up whooshing through the tents and sending stay panties on the fence posts airborne. Bet sent Ragnar for her cloak. If she had to she could always hide in the cloak. Ragan said she looked lovely and that was more than enough for her! He went forth and gathered the dragon for their brief ride to the Mongol camp. No more than a wing span away bet blanched. "What?" Ragnar said with a tone of utmost concern and a bit of humor turning up the corner of his eyes. "My sword! I forgot my sword!" "Oh Bet," Ragnar chuckled "You don't need your sword." "Oh yes I do Bet said "OHHHHhhhhhhhhhh, yes I may. I want it! A Lady never knows when a sword might be a most necessary thing!" And, she smiled softly "If things get too out of hand, I can always retreat to the gate and guard it." She laughed. Ragnar indulged her and the dragon veered back to the camp for, to please Ragnar, a SMALL dagger.

The Arrival..Or “Taaaaaadaaaaa”

Aleezabet stepped daintily from the dragon, the hilt of her dagger clenched tight in her hand. The gate guard at the camp welcomed her through the torch lit entrance after inspecting her engraved invitation from the Princess. (This guard was not familiar to Bet nor she to him. Aleezabet approved of his vigilance.)

The courtyard was full of chairs and plump matrons taking their ease. Scanning the crowd like a hawk, Bet spied a friendly face in the rear of the camp near her Princesses tent. With bold strides, she proceeded to her friends’ side. A lovely ebony woman sat viewing the goings on near him.

"Good eve," Aleezabet said to both. The gentleman nodded with a smile. "What can I get for you Bet?" He said. "Oh, I am fine." Bet blushed. "I am not at all comfortable with the role. Standing around being waited on is not me." Aleezabet shuffled her feet. "Women of my age just didn't do this sort of frivolous thing." She looked down at her feet. The ebony beauty said "Your age? I am much older than you and I have learned to enjoy a bit of eye candy." She chuckled.

She asked Aleezabet her age. "Guess," Aleezabet chortled. A plan arose in Bet's mind. "I will make you a win, win, bet," the lady said, Aleezabet smiled broadly, as did the Lady. (Bet always won this Bet for young at heart as she was she was old in years.) "If you are older than me dear, the gentle woman said, "You may do as you please and guard the gate. However, if I am older than you; you must give up your weapon and allow the men to wait on you hand and foot all evening." The ladies eyes twinkled. When the truth was told Bet's dagger was relinquished into the gentleman’s hand. He kissed the back of her hand and led her to a place of honor in front of the row of seated matrons. Returning to her with a small horn filled with the drink of her desire Irish whiskey.

Enter the Princess

The skies dance with sheet lightening, as male bards perform before the bonfire for the chosen woman of the Known World. A harem of male escorts roams the crowd getting beverages and rubbing dainty shoulders and feet. Tipsy females cheer loudly for the performers to disrobe, while their waiting mates in the audience fretted mightily. A Mongol, named Poppy, strode bared chested before the gathering, his hair chestnut brown and billowing in the wind of the oncoming storm. Poppy enflamed the woman with his manly strut, as he announced the entrance of the Princesses bearers.

On a bier draped in finery of silks and satins, carried by four burly men, our Princess, Isabella, was carried forward to greet us, her chosen Ladies. Her mane of jet-black hair hung in tendrils, splashed upon shoulders of purest ebony and cascading over the gold bangles of her dress. She rested on her elbow, her head titled to the side elfin. Her eyes danced with a reflection of the lightening and the bonfire. She was lifted, a male under each arm from the bier. She stood regal, but all woman, before the flames. The reflections off her dress were blinding to the rows of staid woman. Drummers picked a beat and the Princess danced. Her hips punctuating the heat hazed air with flickering firefly light.

Aleezabet though thoroughly impressed with her Princess found the sweet males lacking in the gentler skills of massage and began to reeducate her male. "Sit," Bet said forcefully. "But I am not to receive Lady I am to give." The man standing still squirmed. "You are to do as I say. Aye?" Bet winked and again, pointing to the chair she had been in said, "Sit!" He sat. Aleezabet laughed. "I will protect you Lord she said "Here now, this is the way to work with your hands." Bet dug into the knots in the Lords shoulders. He winced. Anything else Lord will not do a thing but give you the joy of touching me. If this is to be for me, you will do this!" The poor thin delicate Lord, nodded. He rose from Bet's administrations and asked her if he could try again. Aleezabet shook her head. "Show the other Ladies what you have learned Lord." Said Bet walking toward the drink tent.

Aleezabet's friend in the guards saw her rise. He had been watching the exchange between her and the male servant avidly. "Lady," He said. "You are not to serve yourself." But, I wish to go to the tent." Bet said. "How am I to get there?" He looked befuddled. "Why," Bet said, "You can carry me!" (Aleezabet loved to be carried BUT not upside down, ooooh no, like a lady in her lovers’ arms) He did so with great ease and joy. Aleezabet sighed forlornly, wishing it were her Ragnar, but enjoying the small ride and the envy of the other woman anyway.

In the tent, Bet found Lord Gunther and Lord Richard serving tasty drinks. They looked dashing behind the bar. Both men nodded to Bet and smiled admiring her Pirate garb, their eyes dropping to the crests rising and falling with her breath. In the far corner of the tent more men attempted massage. Bet approached the first chair in which a young, fair, blonde woman lounged her head lolling to the side; a black giant of a man rubbed her feet and calves. His teeth like pearls in the dim candle lit tent. Bet came behind the odalisque of a woman and gently began working on her temples and scalp. The woman moaned, not opening her eyes. The giant smiled and Bet and they worked together to pleasure the woman. No one was watching Aleezabet and she was enjoying herself. Helping others was her joy, so, if she got scolded by the Princess; she had her excuse.

Aleezabet had been watching the masseuse's. Enreque, the fencer of Sharkpit acclaim, was happily and robustly performing his duties. His black-feathered hat rakishly tilted to the side, it's purple feather dipping with each movement of his strong hands. And then there was the balding gent with wrists like tree limbs. He did not seem at all attuned to his ladies grimaces. Now, the sturdy black giant of a man, sitting cross-legged at his chosen ladies feet, actually, glowed with good energy. His gentleness far outweighed his naiveté in the art of massage. Bet had made her choice. When the Dresden China doll rose from the lounger, Bet's slight form replaced hers in the chair.

Aleezabet tugged her black taffeta pantaloons up above her shapely knees. She leaned forward to unlace her slippers and the giant smiled. "I will do that gladly lady." He said. His nimble fingers, of the richest chocolate brown, wove between the licorice whip like laces until the slippers fell open and Bet's dainty foot emerged. "Hmmmm," thought Bet brashly to herself. "A man that's good with laces!" She laughed softly, smiling down at him. Bet shut her eyes and let the gentleness of his touch lull her.

A terrified "oh God!" brought her out of her reverie. "Please, the giant said to the crowd of ladies shield me from that sight!" He grimaced. A small imp like man sauntered by naked except for a golden codpiece. The man was so diminutive his glory, for want of a better word, was just at the giants’ eye level. The swarm of ladies chittered and moved quickly to form a shield wall between the imp and the giant. The imp sauntered on, his pageboy hairdo swishing as he walked.

Aleezabet totally soothed by the gentle ministrations of the giant, rose from the lounger. She straightened her ankle ruffles and adjusted her bodice ties. The rain arrived in a tizzy, spitting into the open tent sides like a mad cat. Ladies pressed inward toward the refuge of the bar. Damp silk, meet damp satin, meet damp brocade, and steam seemed to rise in waves off the mass of heaving bosoms. A bit TOO close in here Bet thought to herself as the Dresden doll placed her head on Bet's shoulder. With a smile of parting Bet ran out into the rain toward her Princesses tent.

Aleezabet knew her dagger and cloak had been placed safe beneath a kind Lords shield close by. She dashed for them. She knew better than to let her metal rust! Grabbing the midnight blue cloak from beneath the shield, and the dagger from within the folds of the cloak; she again scurried in a most lady like manner to the princess awning. A small number of folks sheltered there. The golden tasseled edges of the tents awnings dripped liked bangs after a shower down Bet's shoulder and in the valley formed by corseted satin.

The revelers welcomed her. She ducked quickly inside the tent. Isabella was not to be found but a mere handful of ladies had found their shelter within. The Princess in all her glory remained outside shooing and clucking most sweetly like a mama hen to her chicks. From atop a table in the middle of the compound Isabella directed her friends to shelter. The sheet lightening raked the skies. The gold bangles of Isabella's dress flashed with it, the blue white lightening cooling the hot gold's dance.

Aleezabet had sent forth a carrier pigeon to alert Lord Ragnar it was time for her to leave. The astral plan was jammed with crackle and static. She assumed the poor bird had made it through and she stood fretting at the tent gap looking toward the gate and her Lord arrival.

Bet rushed the tent opening at a particularly loud BANG. There at the gate stood Lord Ragnar, his bare chest amass of wet silver curls, his wavy hair in tendrils dripping, hands on hips he stood as the rain assaulted his broad shoulders. His legs wide spread firm upon the slick ground. He wore a striped Arab caftan, belted at his waist. His stance bared his Blacksmiths forearms and manly calves. He was any ladies dream in the firelight. He scanned the scene looking for Bet. She ran forth to gather him into the tent, her arms and the warmth of the company.

Within the tent the voices were soft and tired. A party without means to rise, ashes but no phoenix? Bet had the cure for that. "Lords and Ladies she said, 'Would you care for a song?" Smiles and nods wreathed the faces of the gentry. A lovely woman, Aleezabet did not know, in high chair; encouraged her most avidly. In pantaloons, corset and pirate hat Bet preceded to regal the ensemble with "The Fair Maid" one of her favorites, about a solitary young woman threatened by a trio of rakes; who steals the would be villain's horse! Miming the various acts Bet made every laugh.

When she was done, she said to the most lovely gracious enthroned woman "And now you Lady?" A soft smile came from the Princess of Acker (for that unbeknownst to Bet was who she was!) and she sang for Bet, a sweet sad song. Barely heard above the boom of the lightening. Songs being done, Aleezabet suggested they depart for the night. Ragnar most heartily agreed. (Her Princess, Isabella could party all night but Bet was SO tired!) Ragnar, hearing Acker's Princess in a distraught conversation with her lady in waiting, regarding the rain and her attire, being the gentleman that he is, offered to escort the Lady Princess home for Isabella. And so Ladies Night Out ended, as the metal dragon lanced though the night to deposit a fair princess at the gate to her Kingdom. And fair Aleezabet into the bosom of her family and Lord Ragnar.

The End of Aleezabet's Adventures with Princess Isabella

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Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries had its humble beginnings as an idea of a few artisans and craftsmen who enjoy performing with live steel fighting. As well as a patchwork quilt tent canvas. Most had prior military experience hence the name.


Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries.


Vendertainers that brought many things to a show and are know for helping out where ever they can.

As well as being a place where the older hand made items could be found made by them and enjoyed by all.

We expanded over the years to become well known at what we do. Now we represent over 100 artisans and craftsman that are well known in their venues and some just starting out. Some of their works have been premiered in TV, stage and movies on a regular basis.

Specializing in Medieval, Goth , Stage Film, BDFSM and Practitioner.

Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries a Dept of, Ask For IT was started by artists and former military veterans, and sword fighters, representing over 100 artisans, one who made his living traveling from fair to festival vending medieval wares. The majority of his customers are re-enactors, SCAdians and the like, looking to build their kit with period clothing, feast gear, adornments, etc.

Likewise, it is typical for these history-lovers to peruse the tent (aka mobile store front) and, upon finding something that pleases the eye, ask "Is this period?"

A deceitful query!! This is not a yes or no question. One must have a damn good understanding of European history (at least) from the fall of Rome to the mid-1600's to properly answer. Taking into account, also, the culture in which the querent is dressed is vitally important. You see, though it may be well within medieval period, it would be strange to see a Viking wearing a Caftan...or is it?

After a festival's time of answering weighty questions such as these, I'd sleep like a log! Only a mad man could possibly remember the place and time for each piece of kitchen ware, weaponry, cloth, and chain within a span of 1,000 years!! Surely there must be an easier way, a place where he could post all this knowledge...

Traveling Within The World is meant to be such a place. A place for all of these artists to keep in touch and directly interact with their fellow geeks and re-enactment hobbyists, their clientele.

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