First Coast News
By Grayson Kamm
KISSIMMEE, FL -- The noble folks at Medieval Times Dinner and Tournament near Orlando let me do their job, lending me a sword and a pair of tights -- and taking me to knight school.
Every night, the Medieval Times castle in Kissimmee fills with clanging swordfights, thundering horses, and glorious battles. But before you get the glory, you've got to get dirty.
Just like it was done a thousand years ago, my knight training started me off as a lowly squire. I was put in charge of gathering up the splinted bits of jousting lances left on the arena floor after combat practice.
After scooping up an armful of the wood slivers, I faced a problem: where to put the garbage. "Where is ye olde trash can?" I asked one of the knights nearby. I followed his directions, dumped the trash, and finally got my shot at chivalry and stardom -- and a slew of frightfully powerful weapons.
Lined up along the arena wall was an assortment of weapons straight out of Medieval Europe, each clearly capable of doing some serious Dark Ages-style damage. Knight trainer Jim Collins held up a two-handed broadsword, essentially identical to sword from the time, except for the fact that the new one has no razor-sharp edge, and is made of titanium, so it lasts longer.
And as Collins handed his sword over to me, my learning began.
I fell right in with the guys workin' on the knight moves for Medieval Times' brand new show, which debuted last month. King Phillipe -- who presides over the events every evening both as a character and as the real-life production manager -- says it's the production's biggest change in five years. "We make hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of people happy each time they see one of our performances. We have something to offer for everybody," he said from his throne high above the arena floor.
"I'll show you a basic shoulder block," Collins said, squaring up alongside me, as if he were a golf pro about to demonstrate a way to improve my swing. True knight training at Medieval Times takes at least a month. So he gave me a crash course, focused mainly on keeping my noggin attached to my body.
As he barked orders, I swung my body awkwardly around the arena. We practiced the seemingly simple act of moving backward and forward with the sword pointed upward in my hands, ready to defend myself. To keep a constant distance from the knight I'm fighting, I've got to pivot my body 90 degrees to the left or right as I take each step back. "Step forward and block. Step forward and block," Collins commanded. My boots kicked up sand from the arena floor as I learned to balance myself.
Once I'd mastered movement, it was time to start swinging! With Collins' guidance, I learned to punch my sword outward at an attacker's blade, creating two important side effects: I was more likely to cleanly block his swing, plus the added force tends to make an awesome "CLANG!" that echoes around the arena and impresses the crowd.
My posture was poor at best. Even though titanium is an exceptionally light metal, the sword got really heavy after a while. "If you rest your arms for one minute, they're gonna know that you're tired. And no wants to pay to see weak, tired knights!" Collins shouted.
"Prep -- and block!" he hollered as he swung his sword at me. The two blades met with a satisfying "clang," and he came at me again. I backed my way across the arena, blocking head and shoulder blows. It felt a bit like an episode of "Dancing with the Squires." And even though all of their shows over the years have been carefully choreographed -- the final outcome of each individual battle can change from one performance to the next.
"Just step back, pull it up. Go," he said, coming at me in another flurry of swings. Even at our slow training pace, the feeling was intense. If I made a wrong move, I could have ended up with some serious bruising or even a broken bone. Hear ye! Hear ye! This is hard. But, once you get it down, it is absolutely as cool as it looks.
It's not just nobility in action here; animals abound inside this 1,000 seat arena. A falconer sends his companion soaring during every show. And majestic horses -- Andalusian stallions -- live in a stable on site.
One of those beauties, Enrado, was the noble steed for my final challenge on the path to knighthood: the joust. During a few quick lessons, Collins taught me the basics. With his command, "Ready? Go. Lance up, shield up," I hefted the heavy metal shield and surprisingly light lance into position. I felt quite knightly on horseback, with a white and red robe draped over my front and back.
Minutes later, with helmets locked in place, two knights on horseback raged toward each other. Hooves rumbled across the sandy floor. Lances and shields took aim at each other. In the center, a cracking collision! The blue knight's lance shattered against his opponent's shield. Red and white blurred together as the robed warrior tumbled off his stallion and rolled across the arena.
Okay -- that's actually a bit of showmanship. It sure looked like me on that horse, but the real jousting was done by the experts here who've trained, in some cases, for years.
Despite my shoddy squire work, my shaky sword skills, and my lack of horse sense, King Phillipe deemed me worthy of his realm's greatest honor.
As I kneeled, the king leveled a sword and lowered it over each of my shoulders, and then my head, proclaiming my success in a stirringly bold voice that filled the arena, "By the holy order of Don San Martin, I, King Phillipe, dub thee once -- twice -- thrice. Now rise, brave knight, and see your very own knightly sword!" Standing to the side, Jim Collins, my wise trainer, bowed and slid a broadsword into my hand.
I raised the blade and admired it, speaking but a single word to signify all that I had achieved. "Cool."
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