Joust for laughs

Charge: The Knights of Royal England go into battle

Lots of little war lords, plastic swords and other children's heads. It's a potent mix, and not really to be encouraged.

But on a day when the main attraction is grown men on horses whacking each other with lances, swords and anything else their squires can get their hands on, it's not surprising that six-year-old children are following suit and felling each other left, right and centre.

It's all in the name of the joust. The Knights of Royal England have come to Linlithgow Palace, just outside Edinburgh, for their yearly foray into Scotland. Whether their Englishness inhibits them from venturing further north into the Highlands isn't clear, but this is the only time they'll be dipping an armoured toe over the border and thousands of locals are taking full advantage. As are the local food vendors: an extremely ordinary steak roll is going for an extortionate £4. I'm tempted to approach the knights and ask them to defend my fiscal honour.

It's a bit of a grey day, but the field below the impressive ruined castle (birthplace of Mary Queen of Scots) is awash with colour. Grassy hills slope down toward what has become the arena, and brightly striped tents give a carnival air to the proceedings.

A small group of tents has been erected by the loch, and a group of enthusiasts are doing their best to create a medieval ambience. A group of men adjust their chain mail, don helmets and put out their ciggies before heading over to the field to stand in for the English and Scottish armies in the Fire and Sword Society's first battle re-enactment. They've obviously drawn straws ahead of time, and the losers take the English side: no one wants to be the bad guys in front of this intensely Caledonian crowd.

For one thing, it's hard to maintain the accent. King Edward I, aka The Hammer of the Scots, even lets out a cry of 'For Scotland!' before correcting himself. The partisan crowd gives him a cheer. An entourage of pages and squires (one conspicuously female, who we later find out has been dubbed Bob) then leads out our mounted master of ceremonies, Lord Anthony of Bolingbroke.

Elegantly robed, and bringing to mind a medieval Tim Curry, he takes his place in the Royal Box, grabs an anachronistic but necessary microphone, and immediately calls on the children in the crowd to parade around the field.

They don't need a second invitation, and the ground is soon awash with little tykes. In a rare moment of madness in these health and safety obsessed days, some of the youngsters are handed weapons with which to parade. The sight of a five-year-old child brandishing a mace is slightly unnerving, but all complete the circuit with limbs and heads attached, so it's on with the show. Really, we needed trumpets. Watching four dashing knights in full regalia charge into the arena on their matching steeds calls for them, surely.

We make do with cheers and whistles, and, after each side of the crowd is allocated a team to support, we're under way. These knights know their stuff — the horsemanship is impressive. Pulling up from a full gallop just a few feet away from a large crowd is a welcome skill when the fence is nothing more than two pieces of string and a plastic post.

It's impossible to see these ironmen in full flight and not be carried away by it. After a bit of posturing, the show begins in earnest. Knights warm up with feats of precision, collecting rings on lances and spearing Saracen heads (made of polystyrene, the real thing being difficult to come by these days).

An errant peasant is put in a sack and dragged around the arena to cheers from the crowd — everyone loves a bit of punishment. As they say, it's funny because it's not you.

Then the fun and games are over, and it's time for what, let's face it, we're all here to see: men on horses racing towards each other with long pointy things. We discover that what we call jousting is, in fact, tilting (the joust is, in fact, the whole competition). And the tilt is certainly impressive.

Imagine the precision needed in directing the tip of a ten-foot pole onto what must look like a postage stamp of a shield, from the back of a speeding horse. Everyone's having fun, even if for some this is serious stuff. Sir Jasper and his cohorts are playing to the crowd, but there's surely a huge amount of adrenaline fuelling their roars and triumphant grandstanding.

Lances splinter on impact with sturdy shields, knights are unseated and almost every tilt degenerates into down and dirty hand-to-hand combat.

Lord Anthony announces the scores, although how they are allocated is a mystery to us all. And the winner is... Sir Jasper! The red half of the crowd goes wild, as its team taunts the losing blues. It's been a rollicking ride, and no doubt blue will win tomorrow.

But for now, we are the victors. The blues can hang their heads in defeat, like the mangy curs they are, while we gather our entourage and return home in glorious triumph! Hmm, this jousting lark can become quite addictive. Huzzah!

Travel Facts

The Knights of Royal England perform regularly at locations around the UK. For details, see knightsroyal.co.uk. Linlithgow Palace is open daily from 9.30 am to 5.30 pm on April 1 — September 30, and 9.30 am to 4.30 pm on October 1 — March, www.scotland.gov.uk for details.