Once he’d got back on an even keel, after his wife’s death, Colin Scott had gone to Knight School.  That was Knight with a “k” as he had to tell his friends who would otherwise have thought he was going to Napier or Telford to study web design or business law or some such thing. 
It had been his Mum and Dad who’d bought him the voucher.  They were seeking something that would capture his interest, his enthusiasm.  His Mum had remembered simpler times when the young Colin had been fascinated by knights in armour.  His bedroom walls had been covered in posters about the Round Table and Sir Lancelot.  She’d seen an advertisement by a company who staged mock jousts at ancient castles and summer festivals.  They offered short courses to anyone who wanted to learn the skills involved.
Colin had gone to a place near Tantallon Castle to take the course.  He went really to avoid hurting his parents.  But he’d loved the course. 
He found that, if you put on a suit of armour, you tended to forget about your normal life and any troubles that you might have in that life. 
How could you not?  
There was tuition in sword fighting, in wielding the battle-axe, the flail and the mace.  Colin had turned out to be good at all of those – so much so that the instructors asked if he’d fought with such weapons before.  “No, only with a wok”, had been Colin’s answer.

Of course, he’d also learned how to fight on horseback. 
His mount had been a docile big beast called Romulus.  Romulus would carry Colin up and down the tilt as he practised aiming his lance at targets and finally, on the last day, when he’d had a mock joust with the Green Knight who was really the chief instructor.

At the end of the course, they asked Colin to come back and see them anytime.  They give him a nice scroll.  It proclaimed that he was now “Sir Colin of Leith”.

©  David Gray