Derek reached the tournament grounds and followed his sister, Ilene, into a tier of rough wooden benches with a heartfelt sigh of relief. At fifteen years of age, the young man was still willowy with few visible signs that he was ever going to mature into a well muscled fellow suitable for the kind of apprenticeships he desired.

Worse, in his own opinion, was that Ilene, two years younger than he was, stood eye to eye with him already. Resigned to never being tall, like Hurst, the Smith, or Sir Everard, a knight the boy idolized, he had at least hoped that his slim frame would fill out with enough masculine muscle to look like more than an overgrown boy. He really wanted to become a squire to some knight and take part in great adventures or helping defend those weaker folk who knights were supposed to take care of.

Those hopes had been dashed when he stood with the other lads his age for the annual choosing by the knights for their squire trainees, followed by tradesmen picking likely youths to apprentice. None of them even looked twice at a scrawny, too pretty boy with a tousled shock of midnight black hair who was almost jumping into their paths in an attempt to gain attention.

Harald, the King’s own wizard and physician had actually considered Derek for a few moments, giving him a critical examination that had raised a spark of hope in the youth’s heart, only to have it doused when the old wizard had shaken his head, muttering, “No talent for the arts at all, none at all.” and moved on seeking someone more suited to his needs.

“Are you still mooning over who you got apprenticed to, big brother?” Ilene questioned with a small sigh of exasperation. “Honestly! Being chosen by Katrina should have overjoyed you. With your nimble fingers you’ll make a wonderful tailor.”

“But Katrina is a dressmaker, not a tailor,” Derek started the by now stale argument knowing that it would get him nowhere at all. “What self respecting male would accept a position with a dressmaker?”

“Mother says,” Ilene archly replied while smoothing her light blue linen skirts before seating herself on the bench, “That sewing is sewing, and it’s something you’re good at. Learning the trade from a dressmaker will teach you fine stitches that could be put to good use once you reach journeyman status and can become a tailor on your own.”

“Sure,” Derek grimaced as he plopped down beside his sister. “But until then, I’ll spend my time hemming gowns, sewing on lace and beads, and worse things.”

He didn’t even mention the humiliating experience of the day before in the back room of Katrina’s shop. She had needed someone to wear one of the gowns she was making for a Lady attending the grand ball once the tournament was finished so the hem could be properly set and sewn. Since he had been the only other person working in the shop... After a perfumed bath so he wouldn’t soil the horrid thing, he found himself uncomfortably standing on a small pedestal in what was probably a very lovely violet satin gown while his new employer fussed with the hem and sleeve length.

But the ultimate humiliation of the experience was discovering that except for loose material in bodice and hips, it had fit him very well. A fact that had Katrina making up a bodice and derriere padded out to give her model the appropriate curves for the gown. Then made him put those on under the feminine finery to insure a correct fit for their wealthy, and petite, client, Lady Jessica.

“Oh quit grousing, Derek,” Ilene scolded, losing patience with her brother for seeming so ungrateful to Katrina when no one else, not even that smelly old wizard, wanted to give him a chance. “At least you’ll have a trade. All I can look forward to is being married off to some hulking farm boy or some leering tradesman if I’m lucky.”

“All right, Ilene,” suitably chastened, and feeling bad about it, and what his sister had just said, Derek turned his attention to the field spread out below them. “I’m sorry, I am lucky to have been chosen to learn a trade instead of looking at a lifetime of raking and shoveling horse or cow manure.”

“That’s right,” his sister grinned as she patted his slender shoulder with a bright smile. “Now let’s enjoy the tournament. It was very kind of Katrina to release you from your duties to come with me.”

“Yes it was,” he responded with true feeling. Granted, he still smelled of that perfumed bath, and his chest, hips, and bottom still retained the impressions of the ’enhancement’ girdle Katrina had made for him. But at least he was out in the open air that was redolent of food vendors, cheap beer and more costly ale, and the inevitable waft of horse droppings instead of being cooped up in the sweetly scented back room of Katrina’s shop wearing some Lady’s gown for yet another fitting.

There was one other little difficulty that he was far too ashamed to relate to even his little sister. By the name of Sir Garret of Chalmnessa. During the choosing, Garret had shown an inordinate amount of interest in the more underdeveloped boys, especially for Derek. The knight was a strong one, among the King’s favorites and a constant protector of the realm. But Derek had noted something more than simple interest in a prospective squire in the man’s brief attentions.

Just to make matters even stickier, Garret had accompanied the Lady Jessica, his sister, for a fitting of her new gown and caught sight of Derek still in it as Katrina hurriedly performed some minor adjustments before joining her customers out front and closing the door to the back room so he could get out of the gown and set it up for the Lady’s fitting.

The knight had done an almost comical double take when he caught sight of Derek in his humiliation, then the look on his handsome face became very thoughtful. Something the boy was more than happy to have shut off by the closing of the door. But the damage was already done.

“What are you blushing about, Derek?” Ilene teased, thinking it was from the memory of having to wear a woman’s dress, even if it had been out of sight (mostly) and at his Mistress’ orders. Apprentices often got stuck with unpleasant duties, and the pretty young woman couldn’t resist teasing her older brother about it just a little. “Thinking of how you’d look wearing those clothes in the Lords and Ladies section?”

“Only about how embarrassing it would be,” he grumbled quietly, wishing she would change the subject.

“Oh, look!” Ilene gushed, inadvertently giving him his wish. “Fiona is wearing that lovely rose colored gown her mother gave her.”

Fiona was Ilene’s best friend, and the same age as Derek’s sister. Both girls were ripening into the promise of being lovely women, and like the other young ladies that day were dressed in their very best. Not only because it was a grand tournament they were attending. It had been announced by criers more than a week previously that the winners in each field of competition would be allowed to choose a lady to accompany them to the grand ball later in the month. Being chosen for that honor by a knight, or even a high ranking squire could result in marriages far better than many girls in that realm could have hoped for otherwise.

The winner of the final contest - Jousting - would have the privilege of selecting one maiden from the crowd to be either his own bride, or the bride of an unmarried male in his family or entourage. Their wedding was to be the culmination of the month-long festivities in honor of The Goddess Evianel, patroness of marriage and fecund unions.

Needless to say, every girl in the realm who was able, was in attendance for all the competitions. So many hopeful young ladies had arrived that the stands looked more like a colorful flower garden in a riot of mixed shades and colors that were almost bewilderingly painful to the eye.

Derek was just relieved that he hadn’t seen Sir Garret among the milling contestants when they had passed the closed off section of the fields where the squires and other servants had pitched individual tents for the knights participating in the contests. Not that it would have surprised him, but it would have been embarrassing since it had only been the day before that the man had seen him wearing a dress in Katrina’s back room. And obviously liked what he had seen, much to Derek’s discomfiture.

“Yes, Fiona does look very nice today, Ilene,” he answered half absently.

“She looks better than very nice, big brother,” the girl beside him stuck a still childishly sharp elbow into his ribs as a way of chastising him for being a boorish male. “She looks absolutely beautiful. I’ll bet some knight or high ranking squire chooses her.”

“Ouch!” Derek grimaced, then grinned at his sister. “Okay, okay, your friend is gorgeous in that dress. Is that better?”

“A little,” Grinning back in mischief, Ilene added in a whispered aside. “But not, from all I hear, as stunning as a certain person who was in the back room of Katrina’s shop the other day.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Derek hissed, “Not even in a whisper. Please, Ilene? It was bad enough when it was happening. Do you have to remind me about it every chance you get?”

“Oh, I didn‘t realize it bothered you so much,” grinning even wider, she finished with a satisfied giggle. “Since it does, I’ll only mention it every other chance I get. How does that suit you big brother?”

“Guess I’ll have t take what I can get out of you on that,” Derek chuckled at her expression then added. “But it really does bother me. Which is why you insist on teasing me over it, I know, I know.”

“Oh, just get over it, will you, big brother?” The girl patted her own corn silk hair a bit self consciously while watching her brother from the corner of her lovely blue eyes. “I mean, it isn’t as if you actually asked Katrina if you could get into the thing, is it now? Or did you find wearing smooth, sleek silks and satins to be a good feeling?”

“I didn’t, and I didn’t” He retorted indignantly then realized his sister was teasing him again and laughed. “Give it up, minx. I would never do something like that willingly.”

“Never is a long time,” Ilene primly reminded him, then ruined her attempt at grownup sophistication with another giggle she hid behind a dainty hand.

“Not long enough for me,” Was his very earnest reply then Derek decided to change the subject. “If you want some refreshments, I’ll buy. But I’d better get to the vendors now because the single melee sessions are about to get started and I really don‘t want to miss any more of them than I have to. They‘re supposed to be really good ones this year.”

Soon, with an iced sherbet and very watered sweet wine for Ilene and a heavy leathern mug of good ale for himself, Derek seated himself beside his sister, handing her the goodies he’d purchased he settled back to the bench. He couldn’t resist congratulating himself at finding seats in the front row for them.

The first round of the single combats had ended, with the winners readying themselves for the second round and the losers nursing bruised bodies, broken bones, and some cuts. Not that the winners were doing differently. As advertised, these particular contests had already proven to be very exciting and the crowd voiced its collective disappointment at being told the second round would be held after the archery competition.

A tall, gangly, but according to Ilene, cute Yeoman won the archery rounds with some very impressive long range shooting that had the crowd forgetting the single combats for a time as they cheered his expertise with the longbow.

The man’s name was Alaric, and he wore the colors of Sir Garret proudly while casually making his choice from the multitude of waiting, hopeful maidens. Too casually, Derek thought to himself, as the young man indicated his choice to a chorus of cheers and jeers. It was fairly obvious to most that his hesitation had only been a screen while he sought out the girl he had already picked out.

The second round of the single combats passed, followed by equestrian competitions, strength contests, and footraces. The winners of each in the last three events chose their companions for the Grand ball, and the field was cleared to be set up for the first round of jousting.

Abuzz from a second and third (ill advised) ale, Derek watched and cheered with everyone else as the knights taking part in the joust were introduced individually. Sir Garret scanned the stands and found what he was seeking. Or who, rather. The recipient of his wave blushed furiously, and tried sinking through the bench he was sitting on, wishing that a few more ales had passed down his throat.

“Oh, wave back, goof,” Ilene, also a bit worse for the watered wine, urged him. “It isn’t as if he approached you to carry your token or anything. He’s just being nice.”

“I hope so,” Derek groused, while giving a tentative wave back and nearly cringing at the wide flashing grin he received as a result. “Because Garret is one of the favorites in the contests. The King himself drew a promise from him not to enter any competition but the jousts so someone else would have a chance at winning.”

“Oh, that’s just gossip,” Ilene retorted in a slightly slurred voice. “And you worry too much over something that won’t happen even if he does win. Relax and enjoy the rest of the day.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right, little sister,” The youth admitted with a sheepish grin that turned slightly sour for a moment. “Tomorrow, it’s back to being Katrina’s dress dummy.”

After that, he cheered up in the excitement of pounding hooves, the clash of lance on shield and armor and the clang of the defeated knights hitting the ground. The second round was set up immediately after the first, with Sir Garret easily besting his second opponent, as he did in the third. Soon enough, there were two still mounted knights remaining, and Sir Garret was one of those.

A pair of squires, Elgil and Forst faced off in the final round of the single combat and gave the crowd a show worth watching. Elgil, soon to be knighted as part of his prize, though standing, was only marginally better off than Forst who was lying dazed in the trampled ground at the other’s feet. He soon shook the worst of that off, limping forward to stand exactly in front of a bemused Derek and breathless Ilene.

“Lass,” Elgil sketched a formal bow to Ilene. “I have to tell you that your beauty caught my eye earlier and helped me in the winning of this contest. Would you be so kind as to honor me by being my companion for the Grand Ball next week?”

“I would be delighted to, Elgil,” Ilene nearly gushed with the eyes of everyone in the place on her. “Of course I will, and thank you for the kind words, sir.”

Cheers arose from the crowd as Derek half sourly noted that Elgil wore the colors of Sir Garret before joining in the cheering and being happy for his little sister as she reached over the wooden barrier to briefly touch the offered hilt of the squire’s sword.

“Well you sure made an impression,” He congratulated his sister with a hug and kiss to the cheek. “Maybe this will grow into something other than a onetime thing?”

“A girl can hope,” Came the cheerful answer, somewhat marred by a small belch in the middle of it. “Oops, ‘scuse me. Too much of that lovely wine, I’m afraid.”

“Personally, I think it was that pickle you had earlier.” He jibed with a grin while recalling the full pickled cucumber she had insisted he buy for her.

“But it was sooo good,” She insisted with another little burp from behind her dainty hand and a half hidden grin of her own. “I should have known better, I never have been able to eat cucumbers without the most unladylike problems coming up.”

“Which is why you like them so much,” He returned with a laugh. “Female perversity at its most revealing.”

“Hmmph!” Was all the response he got before the finalists in the joust were brought out and introduced to the crowd, then presented to the King and his entourage to thunderous stamping of feet and cheers.

Sir Garret, resplendent in his deep, almost royal, violet colors and the shining silver of polished steel armor, saluted the King and Queen, then their retinue with a wave of his sword. Following that he turned with a flourish to give the crowd another cheerful acknowledgement. The roar of approval was nearly deafening and Derek thought he was getting a headache from it.

“Is all that good ale getting to you, big brother?” Ilene questioned with the mock concern many women show when their men begin suffering the effects of drinking too much.

“Just the noise,” He avowed with a half guilty show of teeth that might have been a smile. Or gritted teeth. At that point, not even he was sure which.

Garret’s opponent, Sir Alomar, was equally popular in his nearly sullen deep red and burnished black armor. Once the round of cheering, stamping feet and isolated boos faded, Derek decided that he did have a headache. Not that complaining about it to his sister would do any good. He just hoped that she would regret the watered wine she had been happily downing all day long in the morning as he would probably regret the ale.

Three charges and four broken lances later, both contestants were still ahorse, though shields had been discarded for new, less battered ones from each knight’s personal armories.

When Sir Garret emerged victorious following a horseback melee once the last lances had been broken, Derek cheered as wildly as the next person. He might have been embarrassed by some things the knight had seen, and by the attentions he had received from the man, but had to admit the fellow was hard to dislike. Very hard.

The youth was talking to a very animated Ilene, much too animated for decorum, he thought but let it go for the moment when a quiet descended into an outright hush in the huge stadium. Turning to see what was going on he nearly bumped his nose on the extended hilt of an ornate, ceremonial sword. With Sir Garret smiling widely on the other end of it.

“Oh, gods,” Derek swallowed then did so again. “This cannot be happening. Please let it be a joke, or mistake.”

“My small beauty,” Garret spoke directly to him, dashing any hope of a mistake being made. “I have been greatly taken with you and request the honor of your company at the Grand Ball.”

At least he hadn’t mentioned anything about a wedding, Derek thought almost frantically while shaking his head in the negative.

Some laughter, a few cheers of encouragement, and a lot of hisses at his refusal led the boy to stare down at the waiting knight. “I’m not a girl, you know.”

“You could have fooled me, my lovely flower, but I won’t fall for your gamin pose and neither will they. ” Garret replied seriously while gesturing to the crowd.

Chants of “Come on girl, take his offer!” filled the stands and with a rush of humiliation and frustration, Derek realized that most in attendance had taken him for a female. One who hadn’t gotten all gussied up for the contest, but a girl even if she tried to hide the fact. Disabusing them of that notion could prove even more embarrassing than accepting and hoping for the best once he had. With a sigh of resignation, he slowly reached forward to gingerly touch the offered sword hilt to resounding cheers from the onlookers.

“Now who has made an impression?” Ilene giggled while hugging her stunned brother as the other winners approached the stands to claim their feminine prizes. “Now we can get ready for the ball together. Won’t that be fun?”

“Just barrels,” Derek grumbled, wishing he had just stayed at Katrina’s and worked that day. Even if he had ended up wearing another dress, at least that would have been in private, more or less.

Still blushing furiously, he accepted Garret’s offered hand and allowed himself to be seated across the knight’s lap for a slow progress around the field for the benefit of the still cheering crowd.

With one arm thrown around Garret’s neck to stay on, his loose tunic pulled tightly against his chest Derek nearly cringed in shame and fear that someone would notice he wasn’t really a girl at all.

“Don’t worry, no one will make fun of you,” Garret promised with a whisper into his ear. “Most think you are a very pretty young maid as it is. Just sit quietly and nothing will go wrong.”

“Nothing else, you mean, my lord,” Derek choked out to the knight’s amusement.