Ye Olde Medieval Festival: A Quest
Once upon a time in the magical, faraway land of Fort Tyron Park
Over the weekend, I ventured to Fort Tyron Park for the final day of the 33rd Annual Medieval Festival. The subway doors slid open and out spilled a gaggle of knights, squires, wizards and wenches. Safe to assume we were here for the same event, I followed the pack.
Entering the fair grounds, I was greeted by a middle aged man in a court jester’s outfit dancing and juggling. I waved hello and came to two realizations: First, that this man was obviously the town fool, a below-the-line, but nonetheless essential career to the Medieval world. And second, that I was severely underdressed for the occasion.
No sir, my plain black t-shirt, skinny jeans and overall city vibe would not cut it today. Luckily for me, there was a booth near the fair entrance selling “Medieval wear,” and based on their selection, the people of the Middle Ages were super into studded leather.
I decided to forgo the leather, and instead purchase a pair of rubber elf ears, and that I would be spending the rest of the day in character, as a fashion-forward high elf of my own creation, whom I dubbed Sir Galen of House Winklevoss. Unfortunately, this didn’t last long, as I was soon informed by a fair-goer that the ears I purchased made me look less like the badass Medieval elf I intended and more like Commander Spock, whom it was made clear has nothing to do with the Middle Ages.
Oh, well. I still wore the ears.
Next, I decided to explore the fair grounds. Here’s what I discovered.
Hungry as an orc, I first went for the food. After waiting in the longest of lines, the $8 “peasant’s stew” seemed awfully appealing, but I was more intrigued by the simplicity of the “steak on a stick.” Interestingly, this snack tasted less Medieval then I had hoped. Though savory and delicious, I could easily have ordered an identical item at my local Halal cart for a quarter of the price.
As I wondered, I noticed the fair has a startling obsession with Medieval-based puns. Some of my favorites included, a steak sandwich booth called “Sir-Loins,” the embroidery vendor “Sew Soft” and a funnel cake stop named “A Song of Ice and Fryer.” I salute the creativity.
If you’re interested in bizarre Medieval-themed performances, the fair has plenty. Some of the highlights were a pair of Gregorian Chanters, a body contortionist and an observational comic of some sort. I’m not sure how that last one was Medieval, but he had amassed quite an impressive crowed to share his borderline unintelligible bit about tall buildings and Tom Jones. Could he have been the town’s stand up crier? I suppose it’s possible.
By far the coolest program was a tournament on the grassy field near the entrance. There, fully armored competitors battled with a weapon of their choosing. Options include sword and shield, pike, mace, daggers, among other choices.
Before a bout began, the knights said a few words in salute of “the king.” Did they mean De Blasio? I’m not too sure. Then, a moment of tense silence before the fighters did battle. The object of the game is defeat your opponent by landing critical hits. A limb shot requires said person to finish the match without use of that limb, whether it be an arm or leg. A head shot ends the bout. Watching, it looked like madness, but I spoke with a fighter, Shameaus of Erandale, who explained the game requires more skill then a casual onlooker may realize.
“You are the weapon,” he explained when I asked for his best advice. “These [the weapons] are just tools. You are the weapon.”
Shameaus detailed how the game is designed to as “historically accurate as possible, while still maintaining safety.” Despite the many historical compromises, the battles are by no means totally safe — Shameaus informed me — going on about the time he conked his opponent so hard on the helmet his opponent passed out. I also learned that while Shameaus fights valiantly like a knight, he is in fact a squire. Only by winning the right tournaments, can he be ceremonially sanctioned as an official knight. It was clear from talking to Shameaus that he is extremely passionate about this sport. Then his name was called to the arena. He told me it was nice chatting, put on his helmet, and went forth into battle. Swing your blade true, Shameaus of Erandale, I thought. For the good of the realm, swing true.
The day was coming to end. I had swung a sword twice my size, seen knights duel to the pretend death, and my clothes smelled like mutton. But as I began to leave the grounds, I reflected on how all day I wore these Spock ears, desperately trying, but failing, to fit really fit into the Medieval theme. Then something amazing happened. From the corner of my eye I noticed a group of men dressed up. Not as knights, or as kings, but as their favorite Star Trek characters. Not only that, but their squad was missing a Commander Spock.
And with that, I had purpose. The Medieval Festival is not really concerned with absolute historical accuracy or thematic consistency. It’s just a bizarre, fun excuse to be a nerd, whether that means historical reenactment, pounding down mead, or dressing up as a knight, maiden or character from Star Trek. So, as they said in Ye Olde Medieval Times, “Live Long and Prosper.”
*Note to reader: Excessive use of the letter “e” at the ends of simple words have been edited out of this article for easier comprehension.
