DAVID BAKER / SPECIAL TO THE PVT Latter-day knights don't fool around in their jousts as lances snap and armor is dented. Action like this was just a one aspect of the renaissance fair that took place recently at Sunset Park in Las Vegas. DAVID BAKER / SPECIAL TO THE PVT Pahrump writer and poet David Baker in full 14th century regalia. Advertisement

As a medievalist who likes to recreate a Middle Ages lifestyle, I recently decided to take a trip back through time.

I belong to a medieval living history group, the Compaignye du Chalis, which represents the retinue of an English knight, Sir John Strother, an actual historical figure who lived in the 14th century. From 1370 to 1420, the kings of England and of France were locked in a struggle for possession of France known as the Hundred Years' War. It embroiled all estates in a destructive, glorious, hazardous, and ultimately futile struggle that nonetheless paved the way for the modern nations of Great Britain and France.

I know I must have made quite a sight. As I am portraying an armored squire, I don't have a squire myself. Nor did squires have their own squires in the 14th Century. So I shanghaied my poor wife into helping me on with my armor. Then we got into the car.

I received some strange looks as I drove down Highway 160. It is easier to wear armor than it is to carry it in a sack. If made correctly, it is also quite comfortable to sit in for an extended period of time. Say the length of time it takes to drive 60-plus miles to Las Vegas.

One might say it looks cumbersome or crude. Yet the clothing is quite comfortable, and the armor is not so heavy that, if you fall to the ground, you can't get up.

Our tents, or pavilions, were able to take the worst that Las Vegas weather could throw at us. While modern tents were failing the rain test during the recent renaissance fair, ours remained warm and dry.

Our company is not just another group of fighters. We are an extended family, not unlike the historical company we portray. Our wives and children participate. We have carpenters, a metal smith, beer maker, weavers, cooks, squires, entertainers. In short, we have created our own small community. Most of us have multiple skills and create a well-rounded group.

It's not as serious as it may sound. Just ask the pirates who had their little ship floating around the duck pond at the Sunset Park. They would sail past our encampment, yelling out all sorts of challenges. We would very quietly reply by flinging pumpkins back at them with our trebuchet.

Yes, we have our very own fully functional trebuchet ... not "catapult." This monster was created to tear down fortifications. Its maximum effective range is about a football field.

We clear the road, ensuring the safety of the visitors, and often pull a likely youth or lovely woman from the crowd to pull the "trigger." Great fun is had by all, except maybe the ducks.

When there is some down-time between firings of our weapon, we like to gamble. The rage in the 14th Century was backgammon, the video poker of its day. We have a hand-crafted board along with hand-carved pieces. We even found a coin smith in England able to produce period coins made out of pewter. If you happened to see us playing, stacked neatly along the sides of our game board were groats, ha'pennies, crowns, half crowns, pennies. All very authentic, and they look very cool.

Each of us has spent long hours researching our personas. I am constantly working on heraldry, which may be described as the ancient version of today's system of brand names. Like the swoosh on the side of a sneaker, a "device" (not a coat of arms) was a person's brand name. This was especially true for the vast, illiterate majority.

Even with the weekend flooding, it was a lovely event. We awoke to a cool morning, with the scent of cooking meat and campfires. Sitting there, sipping a hot cup of coffee (all right, there is only so much I am willing to give up for the sake of authenticity), it was easy to imagine the light poles and the temporary chain link fencing disappearing.

Later in the day I was fortunate to see a live jousting event. For those living in the 14th century, seeing a jousting competition or tournament, would have been similar to seeing a circus and a Super Bowl at the same time. Knights were celebrated and won large sums of money at the tournament.

It was also another way to keep skills of war sharp in times of peace.

The King and Queen of the fair gave their consent and the combat began. Four passes each, and a very heated session of foot combat with swords and shields saw our tournament champion. The crowd went wild.

Suspension of disbelief came easy to me that day. We defended our campsite against marauding pirates and educated those that wanted to know or learn about our portrayal. We watched our belly dancers put on a really lively show and witnessed the jousting. (For those who might think it fake, the dents in the armor would serve as a corrective. They might have been using pine lances, but they were still jousting, there was no pulling of a hit or weakening of a lance.) At the end of the day we sat down to a meal of roasted meats, cheese, handmade beers, fruit, and best of all, Owen Fife, our personal bard, played for the company into the creeping shadows of night.