“That’d be appreciated,” said Galahad with resolve, “but I don’t think it’d solve the wizard changing sides, unless his raise is substantial. There’s only one of him and he’s in demand.”
“By whom?”
“Everyone,” Galahad replied, holding up another paper. “Says so in Wizards Quarterly.”
“You subscribe to Wizards Quarterly?”
“No, I buy it off the shelf.”
“Why?”
“It’s the only one of the bunch that costs less on the stand than by subscription,” Galahad said with a shake of his head. “Makes no sense to me. Would be better to get a list of names, I’d think, but he’s a wizard so I guess he’s got some reason for—”
“No,” Arthur interrupted, “I mean why do you read that publication?”
Galahad seemed surprised by the question. “I like to keep up with the times, sire. Doesn’t everyone?”
The other knights were busily studying their fingernails.
“Apparently not, Sir Galahad.” Arthur pointed at the paper. “Who even writes Wizards Quarterly?”
“Merlin does, of course.”
“So he writes a paper for himself?” said Sir Gareth. “That makes little sense.”
“You know what,” Arthur said, waving his hands about, “I’m not worried about Merlin leaving our service. He’s happy here. If he weren’t, I’m certain he would let me know.”
Galahad flipped a couple of pages on the publication and said, “Page seven of the latest Wizards Quarterly has an article entitled ‘I’m not sure I’m still happy in Camelot.’”
“Truly?” Why hadn’t Merlin mentioned anything? They’d had plenty of meetings over the last year. The man could have voiced his dismay on any number of occasions. “I suppose I will need to speak with him on the subject. For now, let’s get to the matter at hand, shall we?”
“Hear, hear!”
“We are going on a quest to retrieve a magical talisman.”
“A talisman, eh?” said Sir Purcivale, one of the younger knights. “That sounds right fancy. What say you, Tristy?”
“It’s a round-and-round from my take, Percy,” Sir Tristan replied, tapping his mug of ale to Purcivale’s. They looked like a couple of twins to Arthur’s eyes. Both young, both short—compared to the other knights—and both with curly blond hair. “Do it got the shimmer, guv?”
Arthur furrowed his brow. “The shimmer?”
“You know,” said Purcivale, “is there a bling on the ring?”
“Bling?”
“Glitteries and that, guv,” Tristan explained.
Lance-A-Lot spoke up: “He’s asking if the ring has a magical field, sire. Something that makes it shine fancifully? Or maybe it gives off a glowing light?”
“Ah,” Arthur said. “Honestly, I don’t know. Merlin wasn’t that specific.”
“Would be right set fit if it had the sun’s blister,” Tristan said thoughtfully.
“No grievance there, Tristy,” agreed Purcivale.
“Right,” said Arthur with a shrug. “Anyway, I fear that this quest may be trying at times. It will require your exacting skills if we are to succeed.”
“Which skills would those be, sire?” asked Sir Gareth with a look of worry.
“Just knightly things, Sir Gareth.”
Gareth’s shoulders slumped. “Sire, everyone knows that I’m not all that gifted in knightly things. My hand-to-hand combat is terrible, my swordplay is sub-par at best, and my deftness with the bow is only slightly worse than my prowess with the pike.”
“Tis right true, lad,” Sir Lamorak chimed in before Arthur could reply, “but you’re the best cook this group has ever had.”
“Hear, hear!”
Arthur decided to let Sir Lamorak say his piece. He was the only knight in the bunch who did his best to see the mug as half-full, after all. He was also the only one who kept his uniform shined and pressed. Lamorak had a confidence about him. His main trouble was that he brought this positiveness to battle with him, often helping his foe to improve their fighting tactics before finally doing them in. It was a bit creepy.
“And your gift with song,” Lamorak continued, “has carried us through many a trying event.”
“Hear, hear!”
“On top of that, your skill with mending our wounds has no equal.”
“Hear, hear!”
“And let’s not forget the speed with which you are able to sew up rips in our boots and leather-wear. Why, I’d wager that your skills in that alone could rival the best seamstresses in the land.”
“Hear, hear!”
Arthur thought about that last testament for a moment. “That could prove useful if my bustier were to become torn.”
“Hear…huh?”
“Sorry, I meant my tunic,” Arthur said, recovering. “I was just recalling seeing my dearest Guinevere this morning while she was wearing her bustier, is all.”
“Ahhh…hear, hear!”
“Hear, hear, indeed,” said Lance-A-Lot with a faraway look.
“Settle down,” Arthur said warningly. Everyone did. “Now, are there any further questions? I think we’ve all had our say, yes?” He glanced around the table. The only person who hadn’t said anything was Sir Gaheris. He was often the quietest in the bunch, not to mention the most gruff of them all. Big, too. Arthur had once seen him engaged in fisticuffs with five brutes at a pub. They hadn’t had a chance. His scarred face was imposing enough, but the eyepatch made it all the more so. “Sir Gaheris, we’ve not heard from you.”
Gaheris set down his mug and looked at Arthur. “I go as I go.”
Arthur couldn’t help but shudder.
“Good,” he said quickly. “Now, not all of you will be making this trip. Some will need to stay back and protect Camelot. I’ll leave that up to Mitch…erm, Sir Lance-A-Lot to get sorted.”
“I’d like to volunteer to stay, sire,” offered Sir Bors. “Our play opens tomorrow night and I’m headlining this one.”
“And I’ve been directing the play,” Sir Kay stated. “If either of us are absent, we’ll have to postpone.”
“I don’t have no…no…hic…innerest in going to Tallahassee neither,” slurred Sir Bedivere.
“Tallahassee?” said Arthur. “What’s that?”
“Ain’t that where you was going?”
“He said ‘talisman,’ you deaf idiot,” Sir Gawain said with a grunt.
“Oh…a tali…sman,” Sir Bedivere said before frowning at Sir Gawain. “Ain’t no reason to ca…call me…hic…names.”
“I chastise myself in the name of the mother,” Sir Gawain said sincerely. “May maggots infest my brain upon my death, or even slightly before.”
“Good heavens, man,” said Sir Kay with a look of disgust. “Can’t you just say ‘I’m Sorry’ like everyone else?”
“I could, but there is so little substance in those words these days, Sir Kay.” Sir Gawain turned back toward Arthur. “Sire, I too would like to stay. My day with the therapist is tomorrow and I’m finally making strides.”
“If I could stay as well, it would be most appreciated,” Sir Lamorak called out. “I’m slated to give a speech at a luncheon tomorrow. It’s about how people can use their personal power to achieve wonderful things. I would surely hate to disappoint those who have signed up for the event, sire.”
Arthur waited a moment to see if anyone else was going to back out. So much for all that talk from Lance-A-Lot about them all being bored.
“Well, that should make things easier on Sir Lance-A-Lot,” he said finally. “Looks like we’ll be taking Sirs Galahad, Gareth, Gaheris, Purcivale, and Tristan.”
“And me,” noted Lance-A-Lot.
“That was assumed,” Arthur stated. “Now, men, lend me your ears for this I decree: tonight you are to drink up and be merry, and then get plenty of rest because tomorrow our quest begins.”
“Hear, hear!”
“Oh, and Sir Gareth, do bring your instrument along
as I’m sure the men would revel in your songs if things become discouraging.”
“Hear, hear!”
SPOONING
Arthur felt a bit self-conscious as he walked into the bedroom. He was wearing a pink robe, stockings, and slippers. The moment he saw Guinevere, though, his mind was set to rest. She was wearing a pair of boxers and a sullied T-shirt.
He stepped out of the slippers and climbed in next to her.
Seeing that it was the night before a quest, there would be no fun-time between them. That was a rule they’d agreed upon many years before. Some people believed that they should engage in coitus before a battle or quest because it may be their last chance, but Arthur and Guinevere felt that it was better to postpone it until Arthur arrived back from the front lines because it would give him a stronger desire to return in one piece.
“So everything is a go?”
“Yes, my love,” Arthur said while gazing into her emerald eyes. “We shall pack our supplies in the morning and begin our journey.”
“And where is it that you will find the talisman, Arthur?”
“Scotland.”
“That’s rather vague,” she said with a smirk. “Scotland is large.”
“I’ve been there more times than you, my sweet. I’m aware of its enormity.”
“No need to get snippy, Arthur,” she replied. “Scotland, then.”
“Scotland.”
“But do you know the specific whereabouts of the talisman?”
“Scotland.” This time it was said less confidently.
“So you don’t know,” said Guinevere with a sigh.
“What’s to know? I’m the king, right? I’ll just walk up to the nearest man, tell him to bring me to his local historian or what have you, and that person will tell me the whereabouts of the Nipple Rings of Veiling.”
“I don’t believe it will work as you say, Arthur.”
Arthur pushed himself up on one elbow. “Do you suddenly doubt me, my cherished?”
“Suddenly?” She pursed her lips for a moment. “No, not suddenly.”
“Good,” Arthur started and then recognized the dig she’d just given him. “Hey, wait a second. Are you—”
“The problem is that you’re not thinking properly, Arthur. I don’t know if it’s just because you’re wearing my goodies or what, but your rationality is lax at present.”
“Do my ears deceive me?” Arthur was feeling a bit hot under the blouse. “Are you honestly speaking to me thusly? I daresay that you should soon find yourself sleeping on the couch.”
“That’s it,” Guinevere said firmly as she sat up. “Listen to me, Arthur, and listen good. I’m the one currently wearing the pantaloons in this relationship, right?”
“Well—”
“Tomorrow morning you’re going to get up and go to Merlin’s hovel. And—”
“I can’t believe—”
“And you’re going to insist that he join you on this quest so that you can find the rings more simply. Are we clear, Arthur?”
Arthur slumped. It wasn’t often that she talked with him like this, so when she did he ended up acquiescing most of the time.
“But Merlin makes everyone feel uncomfortable,” he whined.
“Don’t whine, Arthur. You know how it irritates me.”
“But I don’t want him to—”
“It’s settled, then,” Guinevere stated. “Unless, of course, you want to remove my stockings this instant.”
“But it’s cold,” complained Arthur.
“Then I guess we have an agreement?”
Arthur groaned and lay back down, pulling the blankets up.
“Yes, dear.”
“Good,” Guinevere said. “Now, turn away from me so we can spoon.”
Arthur complied happily, but instantly noticed something was awry.
“Please tell me that’s a sock.”
MERLIN’S NOTEBOOK: FILMING
If there is any one thing that could be construed as magic, it's the transference of light, color, and shadow onto a thin piece of plastic. While Allison never got into the details of how it works, I have read up on the process and have learned a fair bit. Unfortunately, I still don't understand what light-sensitive emulsion is.
Regardless, I have taken photographs and movies using the motion camera on many occasions. I have also used cameras for surveillance at the castle and have even set up night-vision cameras (with something called infrared) to try and spot the creature that continues to steal the apples from the fruit tree beyond my cave. Nothing on that yet, though.
What I have yet to do is to take on a full cinematic event, something Allison referred to as a "movie." I truly believe that I am what she calls a "director," at least at heart. But in order to find out I need something that spans the course of hours, days, or even weeks to bring to the camera. I have considered creating a documentary, but I'm not sure what I would pursue that any of my countrymen—or, frankly, anyone from my era—would find interesting. Truth be told, they would probably run away in terror.
THE MORNING RUSH
Anyone who knew Guinevere understood that she was not an early riser. Once her head hit the pillow and her eyes shut down for the night, it would be near noon before she was back in the land of the living.
Arthur, however, was up at the first calling of the rooster in town.
He donned a nice pair of blue lace panties and then pulled on the rest of his normal gear. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted to wear, but with any luck his choice of garb wouldn’t be an issue for much longer.
Guinevere was still snoring when Arthur made his way out onto the main street in town.
People were bustling along the sunlit cobblestones, making their way to work or going to buy their wares for the day. Merchants were all set up, calling out for people to check their latest offerings.
It was exhilarating to be among his subjects.
Most of their faces were cheerful as he walked past. Some not so much, but he assumed that had to do with a prior evening’s bout with booze. It was one of the many reasons that he avoided alcohol, except from time to time when an event called for him to participate.
The smell of baking bread made him salivate, but he tended to stay away from what Merlin called “carbs.” Arthur tried to keep his figure, after all.
“Good morning, m’lord,” said one passerby, smiling. It was nice to see that she had all of her teeth.
“Beautiful day,” Arthur replied with a wink and they both continued along their separate paths.
“Nice to see his lordship out and about,” said a middle-aged man who was wearing a fine green hat.
“Nice to be out and about on such a fine morning,” Arthur agreed.
“You’re a worm and everyone knows it,” said a grimacing old woman.
“It sure is a beaut—” Arthur stopped and looked back for the woman, but she had disappeared into the crowd. “Well, I’ll be!”
Just then, another peasant stopped in front of him. This one was wearing a veil, meaning that she was mourning the loss of someone. Arthur tried to see her face, but he could not.
“You’re an awful ruler,” she said tightly. “I hope that a swarm of leeches attach themselves to your nethers and drain the life from them so you can’t possibly produce an heir.”
“Hey now,” Arthur said in shock, “you can’t speak…where are you going?”
She had turned and folded herself into the crowd as well. Arthur considered chasing after her, but he was now caught up in the tide of those coming toward him. His beautiful day was growing dark indeed.
“Poor excuse for a king, you are,” said a sour-looking man.
“This is ridiculous,” Arthur said angrily before lowering his head in the hopes that nobody else would recognize him.
“G’day, Mr. King,” said a pleasant voice.
“Whatever,” replied Arthur.
He picked up his pace until he was free of the main street, resolving to go around the back
way when he returned to the castle.
JOINING THE QUEST
Anyone who knew Merlin understood that Guinevere seemed to be an early riser compared to him. Arthur, though, tended not to remember these things about the wizard.
He rang the bell and waited.
Nothing.
He rang the bell again and then took a step back and glanced around to see if maybe the wizard was outside toiling in his garden. He was nowhere to be seen. Clearly the man was at home.
Arthur decided to go the old-fashioned route and started to bang on the door. Just as he was about to give up, the wizard whipped open the door and caught Arthur’s fist in his hand.
“What the hell is so damned important that you felt the need to wake me up at this time of day? Is the kingdom on fire?”
“Well, no.”
“Are we at war?”
“No.”
“Did someone release a plague on the people?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Then?” Merlin said with his eyebrows up.
Obviously Merlin was irritated at being awoken, but this was no way to talk to a king.
“Honestly, man,” Arthur said with a stern look, “you should show some respect.”
“I could say the same, Arthur. Who in their right mind shows up at a wizard’s house at the crack of dawn expecting him to be chipper and pleasant?”
“But it’s morning,” Arthur exclaimed. “The streets below are filled with people. Work is underway and has been for the better part of an hour.”
“In your world, maybe, but my house has electricity. I stay up most of the night.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I like the night life, Arthur,” Merlin said. “I like to boogie.”
“Boogie?”
“It’s just a saying.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“I’m not surprised. Listen, Arthur, was there a reason that you came beating the hell out of my door or were you just bored and looking for someone to torment?”
“As to that,” Arthur said with some cheer in his voice, “I will need you to join in this quest.”
Comedic Arthurian Bundle: The Adventures of Queen Arthur Page 3