"Aaaah! Oh no, my tent! Help, help!"
I heard the scream coming from downhill of my campsite at one of our medieval club's overnight events on a long weekend. The unexpected cloudburst in Southern California on the afternoon before the event started had soaked the campground possibly canceling the event and making me glad I had pitched my tent on higher ground. Lady Alice Tiercelle wasn't so lucky and it looked like her tent was in a puddle that had pretensions of becoming a pond. Dashing down the hill through the residual light sprinkles, I found her desperately trying to rescue her belongings from her soggy tent while still wearing the full skirts of her Renaissance Tudor garb. The rising water had already soaked her shoes and the hems of her outfit.
"Your Ladyship, let me help!" I started by grabbing her wooden clothes chest from her hands and taking it to a table in the nearby picnic shelter that was relatively dry under the ramada roof before coming back for the rest of her things. Fortunately she was only partially unpacked, most of her crafts gear, music instruments, bedding and food were still in her car. I shooed her into the ramada and hauled the rest of her gear to the table. After emptying her little dome tent, I dragged it out of the growing puddle and partway up the slope where it could drain out while set on its face. Good thing she hadn't staked it down yet. I secured it in that position with a couple of her little tent stakes that I found in the tent. I grabbed my cloak and travel thermos from my own tent on the way back.
"Oh Lord Alan, thanks so much. The forecast didn't say anything like this downpour would happen." She whined. "I thought we were only getting a light drizzle." She isn't usually this petulant, she's always the whirlwind organizer in our group. I poured her a mug of hot tea from my thermos and sat her down at the picnic table where I had set her belongings. Trying to be gallant, I wrapped my wool cloak around her for warmth.
I guess I should explain that in our club, we hold sword fighting tournaments and other events in medieval or renaissance clothes, trying to be as historically accurate as possible. We get to choose our names and medieval backgrounds, within reason. We can make up our own personal histories and select nationalities from historical records, but we can't claim to be an actual historical person or fantasy figure. And we can't give ourselves titles of nobility, it's the club that bestows titles as awards for outstanding skill in arts, crafts or research, or for service to the club like running an event or a territory, or for winning tournaments like the annual royal tournament. For example I'm Lord Alan McFarland of the Far Fens, which is nothing at all like my everyday name, and I got the 'Lord' part for running a few events, fighting in and serving as a marshal or referee for tournaments. Lady Alice Tircelle de Courcerac got her title for organizing some events and lots of contests, skill at teaching and performing calligraphy, dancing and music.
"The rain caught several of us early arrivals by surprise. I hate to criticize, Lady Alice, but I always set up my camp in everyday clothes before changing into garb." I gestured at my jacket and jeans. The only medieval garb I was wearing were my boots that looked medieval but were made of modern materials so they were quite watertight. "Besides the event doesn't officially start until tomorrow morning." I added.
We had both arrived a day early for an event that was supposed to last through a three day weekend, but now looked like it might be canceled. A few of the other early arrivals had left without setting up after seeing the drenched conditions at the site.
She glared at me for a moment, then sipped a bit more of the tea.
"Now I have nowhere to stay tonight, I'll have to find a motel and probably skip the tournament. It's a three-hour drive home and I don't want to do that in the dark in this weather."
"If I might be so bold, my cabin tent is big enough for four." She looked rather startled at that and I tried to remedy the situation. "I ah, I mean there's room to set up your cot. I didn't mean that we would... uh sleep together."
She looked a little relieved, then shook her head. "But that's my cot there. It's too wet to go into a tent." She pointed at a sodden bundle of wooden rods and canvas that I had set leaning against the table. "At least my sleeping bag is still in my car."
"We'll figure out something, but first you have to get out of those wet clothes. Do you have anything that's dry?"
"Just more Tudor outfits that managed to stay dry in that chest, I drove in my garb and my pjs got wet." Alice gestured at a soaked tote bag on the picnic table, next to her clothes chest.
I shook my head at that. I hate driving in medieval garb, especially if wearing a sword. It gets in the way of the clutch on a stick shift. "I can loan you my spare set of sweats and a tee shirt, if that's okay." She nodded. "Let me get them for you and you can change in my tent." I crouched in my tent doorway again and dug out my second set of gray sweats, a spare pair of socks that would be somewhat large for her, and a tee shirt, tossing them on the inflatable double bed. Once ready, I led her to my tent. Thankfully it was only a few steps away from the picnic shelter.
"Oh, you made a little tent by your door. What's that for?" She asked when she saw the shoe stand. I had rigged up a little elevated stand with a plastic tarp cover so that muddy boots and shoes could stay outside without becoming waterlogged.
"It's for shoes and boots so they can stay outside without getting rained on and no mud or water gets in the tent. There's a footstool just inside the door to sit on to make it easier to remove shoes. Go ahead get your shoes off and change, then I'll put your wet stuff in the picnic shelter. Hopefully it will be dryer weather tomorrow so your things can dry out." She slipped out of her shoes and wet socks and I put them in the shoe stand, then zipped up the tent door. She managed to change quickly without getting anything in the tent wet, while I stood guard outside the door. There were several other club members that arrived early and had set up, but none of their campsites were close to mine or Lady Alice's so my standing guard was purely symbolic.
"I'm done, here's my wet things." She unzipped the door, then I took her garb and had to laugh. "What's so funny?" She glared.
"Sorry, it's just that you look odd in gray sweats and a Tudor flat cap. If you want, there's a knit cap in that green duffel. It'll be warmer."
