Palio

Palio is known to be an event full of family gathers and olympic style competition. The three contradas make up the entire Barony of Stonemarche, based on region. This year, I would get to participate.

I picked my team on who bribed me the most. Viking. Bling. I would be a member of Sole. I’ll admit I was there not just to compete in the games, but because the current Baronial Bard could not attend, and someone had to run Golden Tongue. It was strange to find myself mostly inspired by a four year old child. He was courteous as well as enthusiastic, and a damned good sport. I lost most of my day following this young individual.

That night, when the festivities were over, I found myself with multiple camping catastrophes. I didn’t bring my tent stakes. My air mattress cover was gone. My food was bleh. I found a nearby household who offered not only an air mattress, but their generous hospitality, all in exchange for song. I was in awe of their unselfishness, and perhaps had found a new home away from home for the weekend.

After I had had my fill of dinner, I was off to go make donuts — I mean, run Golden Tongue. Once again, Ruadh and I had paired up, since we had so much fun the previous year. I was amazed to see only three competitors, so I went around volentolding people. By the time I had finished, our competitors had tripled. We even had someone who didn’t know they were competing!

We had the eight knowing competitors, and then our one wild card, which brings back a fun memory. I didn’t mention this in my prior post, because I thought nothing of it. But the previous year at Harper’s Retreat, there had been loud, thudding noises during my performance. I thought nothing of it, as this had happened before.

This new eide-eyed performer began to tell a tale in eloquent detail, of a Harper’s Retreat where she was essentially playing a handmaiden for her friend. They had been sitting, watching the Bardic Competitions, when during the performance they were watching, they noticed a spider making its way up the dress of her “noble lady.” A silent scream escaped the lady’s lips as she began to panic: she was very allergic to spiders. In equal measures quietly and frantically as the handmaiden could, she tried to make a swift demise for said spider.

The lightbulb in my brain went on, and I finally found out what those thumping noises had been last year.

After she finished her story, I announced that Ruadh and I would step out to deliberate for the Champion. Our wildcard went doe-eyed. She apparently had also just put two and two together that this was a competition.

Ruadh and I made a swift decision and came back to make our announcement; though this time we held the prize until court.

The following morning, rested and chipper, I had gathered vocalists together to create a vocal accompaniment for their Excellencies procession into court. After all, what would the olympics be without music?

With permission, we had rehearsed Oriens Victoriosus by Mistress Aneleda Falconbridge. We rehearsed for an hour, and then they were free until court. I was pretty darn proud of our progress.

Time for court!

I grabbed my choir, even with harp accompaniment, and we sang as their Excellencies and retenue processed in. Once we finished, I remained standing with special permission, that young boy who had brought so much awe into my life deserved to be honored. I called him into court, and presented him a personal token that he so duly deserved. I found out later that his parents had been the autocrats. It was no shock to me that he was of their lineage.

Finally, as if it weren’t enough, I had put her Excellency up to no good. It was a dear friend of mine’s birthday that day, so I had conspired to have her Excellency to have him called up into court as if he had done something wrong. While his back was to the court, my choir members secretly passed out a copy of the Birthday Dirge to all in attendance. When he finally realized what was going on, the entire court raised their voices to celebrate his birthday with the dirge.

I’m really glad he wasn’t armed, or else I might not be here to tell the tale.