“I see,” said Arthur. “Are they effective in battle?”
“Aye,” the guard replied with a nod, “mostly because the enemy ain’t all that fond of gettin’ too close to us.”
“Ah.” Arthur turned to Lance-A-Lot. “We should consider this prospect, don’t you think?”
“I’d rather not, sire. I don’t believe those things hang low enough to contain me, for one; secondly, the draft must be terrible.”
“Ye get used to it,” said the main guard. “Kind of freeing, too.”
“Look like a bunch of pansies, don’t they, Tristy?”
“Hairy-legged wenches at best, Purcy.”
“Stay your tongue, you two,” commanded Lance-A-Lot. “Tis not well to speak of soldiers as such. It takes strength of character for a man to dress as his king decrees. Are we not encumbered and set to the point of boiling within our sheets of metal? Yet do we argue and fuss?” Purcivale and Tristy looked downtrodden. “Now, these men wear their skirts—”
“Kilts.”
“—sorry, kilts, because their king demands it of them. They are naught but good soldiers for doing so.”
“Well put, Sir Lance-A-Lot,” said Arthur before turning back toward the guard. “May I ask if you wear anything under those…kilts?”
“Some aye; some nay,” the guard said, looking uncomfortable. “Can we get after changin’ the subject?”
“Yes, of course. Sorry.” Arthur softened his stance, trying a different tactic. “We need to gain entrance to this land for a quest we’re on. I would hate for it to turn into anything political, but if that’s what needs to be done, then so be it.”
“I canne let ye pass.”
Just then a rousing came about all of the Scottish soldiers. Arthur pressed up in his stirrups to see what was going on. Finally, he saw a middle-aged, red-haired man riding up with a number of soldiers flanking him. He was kingly looking and he had a sneer on his face of a man who had missed dinner.
“Yer that English king, eh?” said the new arrival.
“Arthur is my name,” said Arthur proudly. “And you are?”
“Arthur.”
“Yes, that’s what I said. And your name?”
“Arthur,” the man repeated with a squint. “Are ye daft?”
“I am not daft, thank you very much, and I frankly resent the accusation.” Arthur stared down the other man for a few moments. “Now, if you’d so kindly give me your—”
“My name is Arthur, ye twit!”
“Oh, I see. Right, that…uh…well, I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Why is ye here, laddie?”
“I’m not a lady!”
“He said, ‘laddie,’ sire. As in ‘lad’.”
“Oh, sorry. We’re on a quest for a talisman.”
“A what?”
“A trinket,” said English Arthur. “It’s magical.”
“Magical, eh?” Scottish Arthur replied while glancing over the bunch, landing his eyes on Merlin and Allison. “What are these ones after doing?”
“They’re filming the adventure.”
“Filmin’?”
“I don’t quite understand it myself,” said English Arthur. “It’s probably best explained by knowing that the man behind that camera is Merlin.”
Merlin waved.
“The wizard?”
“Seriously?” said English Arthur with a shriek. “And you’re calling me daft? How is it that everyone finds that a shock? It’s Merlin, man. He’s the only wizard in existence.”
“Nay like wizards,” Scottish Arthur said, seemingly ignoring English Arthur’s outburst.
“That seems to be a common theme.”
“What is it that this magical item ye’re after supposed to be for?”
“As to that,” English Arthur said, “I would need to speak with you in private.”
“I hold no secrets from me men.”
“I believe you hold at least one,” Merlin claimed, peeking out from behind his camera.
“What are ye after sayin’, wizard?”
“I’m certain you don’t want me to announce what I know right now, dude,” Merlin replied, nodding toward the Scottish army. “Let’s just say that those kilts are…interesting.”
Scottish Arthur blanched. “Aye,” he said in a drawn out way. “Fine. I’m wondering after what a ‘dude’ is, but King of England, I’ll meet with ye.”
“What’s it about our kilts, me lord?” asked one of the guards.
“Uh…the wizard’s after knowing a tactic to defeat them, I’m guessin’.”
“Canne trust them wizards, me lord.”
“Aye.”
“We shall meet, then?” asked English Arthur.
“Aye,” replied Scottish Arthur. Then, he slumped a little and said, “Which of yer men is after being Lance-A-Lot?”
“I am he.”
“Me queen, Agnes, says that she knows yer ma. Wants a word with ye. Me guards will take ye to her while yer king and me talk.”
“Not sure if that’s a wise move, King of Scotland.”
“Neither is questionin’ after me wisdom, King of England.”
“I’d like to film this meeting,” announced Merlin.
“Sorry, Merlin,” English Arthur said, “agreement or no, this meeting will remain private.”
“Fine, then I’ll film the discussion between Lance-A-Lot and Agnes. Not quite as interesting, but better than nothing.”
“Uh…what’s he talkin’ about?”
“I don’t rightly understand the details,” said English Arthur, “but it has something to do with him being able to capture an event and then play it back for many to see at a later time.”
“Think of it like a series of hand-drawn pictures that move from one position to the next,” explained Merlin.
“Aye, one of me court jesters does something like that. Makes it look like things is moving about on the paper.”
“Correct,” Merlin said with a surprised look. “These devices do something like that, but in full color and they capture everything, including the sound.”
“I see,” said Scottish Arthur. “Then there’s no way I’m lettin’ ye film that, uh, discussion between me queen and yer knight.”
“But—”
“Ain’t gonna happen, wizard,” Scottish Arthur stated flatly. “If yer truly as keen as they say, ye’ll get the real reason.”
Merlin glanced over at Lance-A-Lot. “Ah, I see. Hmmm.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Ah ha! I know, we’ll set up another mock battle and film that. Don’t worry, nobody with be seriously injured.”
The two Arthurs looked at each other and shrugged.
THE MEETING
The tent was small by kingly standards, but it at least guaranteed a measure of privacy that they would not get out in the open.
Arthur was hopeful that he wouldn’t have to get into too much detail regarding the Nipple Ring of Veiling, but he was prepared if it came to that. He would claim that he was losing his hair and that he didn’t want the people to feel that they had a bald king. It was flimsy, but royalty tended to understand these things about each other.
“Ye’re takin’ a big risk comin’ into me lands and makin’ demands,” said Scottish Arthur.
“Scotland will soon be under my rule anyway,” said English Arthur with a shrug. “It’s inevitable.”
“Not by my way of thinkin’.”
“We have more men than you.”
“You mean knets.”
“I suppose we have a good number of nets, too,” English Arthur said while mentally trying to draw a correlation, “but I think our knights are more apt to be effective in battle.”
Scottish Arthur grimaced and shook his head. “Just tell me of this magical gem yer after findin’.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
“It’s called the Ring of Veiling and—” English Arthur stopped, noting that Scottish Arthur’s eyes had widened considerably. �
�Wait, you know of this item?”
“I’m aware of it,” Scottish Arthur said guardedly. “What are ye needin’ it fer?”
“There are things I must hide from my people.”
“Such as?”
“My, uh, hairline isn’t what it used to be,” English Arthur said as he adjusted uncomfortably in the rickety chair. The lace was killing him.
“I know that grimace,” Scottish Arthur said, pointing at English Arthur. “Nay, it canne be.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Tell me, are ye after wearin’ ladies dallies?”
“Dallies?” English Arthur said, fearing the worst.
“Aye, lace and flowery underbritches.”
Arthur put on his best affronted look. “Talk like that can lead to war, King of Scotland.”
“Yer winces tell a different tale, King of England.”
“That’s simply the result of having a sore bottom due to riding in a saddle these many miles to get here.”
He winced again.
“I’ve a feelin’ yer wearing lace right nooo,” the Scottish king said. “Takes one to know one, as they’re after sayin’.”
“You mean—”
“Aye, ever since I was a lad.”
English Arthur’s jaw had dropped. “I’ve never met another.”
“Nay have I.”
“Are you…I mean…well, do you like other men?”
“Nay, I’m just into the dallies. Ye?”
“No,” English Arthur answered. “I just like to feel—”
“Pretty.”
“Yes.”
“Aye.”
The two men sat in silence for a few moments. Arthur couldn’t believe the odds of this occurrence. He was certain that there were many a man in the general populace who had worn a pair of silky socks now and again, but for his arch rival to be so inclined was unfathomable.
“I guess we have a lot more in common than we thought.”
“Seems it.”
“I have to ask,” English Arthur said, “now that this is in the open between us, how did you get your men to wear skirts?”
“Agnes managed that one,” Scottish Arthur said with a grin. “She’s a clever one.”
“Brilliant.”
“Nay gonna argue that.” Suddenly Scottish Arthur turned serious again. “Speaking of me queen. Is it after being true what they say about your main knet?”
“Net?”
“Kny-eet,” said Scottish Arthur while rolling his eyes.
“Oh, you mean Lance-A-Lot?”
“Aye. Is his man-nub like they say?”
“His what?”
“Ye know, his bag-o-tricks.”
“Uh?”
“His water hose.”
“Still not following you.”
“The man’s albino cave diver.”
“Sorry?”
“Beef whistle.”
“Still not getting it.”
“Beaver basher, boomstick, cranny axe, flesh tower, love muscle, middle stump, nether rod, pork sword, spawn hammer, tan banana, winkie—”
“Honestly,” English Arthur said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“His Excalibur, man!”
“Oh! You mean his twig and berries!”
“Never heard of it called that before,” Scottish Arthur said with a raised eyebrow, “but aye.”
“Well,” English Arthur said, leaning in, “I’ve not seen it myself, but I’ve heard stories that the man can fish with it.”
“Not good.”
“Worried about Agnes?”
“That I am.”
“You’re right to be,” English Arthur said. “Lance-A-Lot also knew my queen, Guinevere.”
“How’d that fare?”
“It took a few months before she could feel my rowboat again,” English Arthur admitted, “and I’ve never felt quite ample enough since.”
“Ugh.”
“You could stop him.”
“Nay,” Scottish Arthur said, shaking his head. “I poked the French queen.”
“Ah, revenge bang, then.”
“Aye.” He tapped his finger on the little table. “Anyhoo, seems to me that yer quest is one that I’m after understanding.”
“You have no idea how relieved that makes me feel,” English Arthur said after taking a deep breath.
“I’ve even better news for ye.”
“Oh?”
“I’m after having it with me.” Scottish Arthur pulled off his shirt to reveal two shiny rings pierced through his nipples. “I’m only after needin’ the one,” he said as he set about unfastening one of them. “I think me brother in garb can have the other.”
“Honestly?”
“Aye,” said Scottish Arthur with a grimace as he freed the ring, “tis nary a man that understands me fetish such as ye. Wouldn’t be right to deny ye as such.”
“I don’t know what to say, King of Scotland,” English Arthur said in amazement.
“Bah, ye’d have done the same,” Scottish Arthur said. “And call me Arty when there ain’t others about, will ye?”
“Arty?” English Arthur said with his eyebrows up. “I like that. You may call me Art.”
“Succinct. I gotta tell ye that putting this thing on ain’t exactly like drinkin’ tea.”
“How do you mean?” Arthur said as he examined the talisman.
“It hurts like hell.”
“Oh.”
“Worth it, though.” Arty removed the second ring and the image of the man changed drastically. No more was he a thick-bearded man in a kilt. He was now wearing a pink teddy, had on full eye makeup, and his face was cleanly shaved.
“Wow,” Arthur said in shock.
“Like I said, worth it.”
“That’s incredible,” Arthur said. “Your eye makeup is excellent.”
“Agnes.”
“She knows, then?”
“Found out a couple of years back.”
English Arthur was amazed as the Scottish king stuck the ring back and again transformed into his kingly looking self.
“I feel I should at least give you something in return,” English Arthur said.
Then a thought hit him. He reached into the bottom of the satchel and pulled out the wrapped item that Guinevere had dropped in for him. Unwrapping it, he found that it was a one-piece leopard-print leotard.
“Oh my,” said Scottish Arthur.
English Arthur handed it over, hoping that Guinevere would be able to secure another one at some point.
THE PARTY
The knights and the Scots got along splendidly. There was something about drink and women that seemed to mend otherwise poor relations. Add into that a bit of song, which Gareth would undoubtedly be called upon to do in short order, and it would put a cap on the entirety of the party.
Arthur even had to admit that the inside of the main hall was pretty remarkable. It had the standard high ceilings, of course, but where Arthur’s was made primarily of brick and mortar, this one added on a fair amount of handcrafted wood.
Queen Agnes appeared worn out, though oddly satisfied at the same time. She had a glow about her. Sir Lance-A-Lot did not look any worse for wear, though he never did.
“How’s it after feelin’?” asked Scottish Arthur.
“Hurts a lot, actually,” Arthur said, trying to keep his mind off the piercing.
“Aye. It’ll take a while to heal, but I canne see that pink blush we put on ye.”
“You can?” Arthur said with a start.
“Nay, I canne.”
“Sorry. I’m not used to the accent.”
“What accent?”
“Song, song!” called out the knights. Moments later the Scots joined in on the chant.
“I only know English songs,” said Sir Gareth as he began tuning up. Nobody seemed to care. “I suppose I could just make something up.”
“Hear, hear!”
Gareth began to strum as the m
en and women quieted down. The Scottish king was thumping his foot in rhythm. Even Arthur, with his newfound freedom, felt himself swaying along.
Weeyeeyee met them at the border
Weeyeeyee told them our tale
Weeyeeyee are drinking together
Our newfound alliance, it never can fail
The English and Scottish shall stand side-by-side
The Scottish and English in each other confide
Two nations as one, united in purpose...
Scottish Arthur leaned over and whispered, “Art, ye know that what’s he’s singing about is after being bullsheht.”
“Sadly,” English Arthur agreed.
“Aye.”
“Everyone!” called out Sir Gareth.
Weeyeeyee met them at the border
Weeyeeyee told them our tale
Weeyeeyee are drinking together
Our newfound alliance, it never can fail
BACK AT CAMELOT
Two days later they had returned to Camelot. The trip was uneventful and there was promise of better relations with the Scots, if only for the time-being. Once new kings were in place, things would deteriorate again. Arthur had little doubt of that.
“And they were incredibly welcoming,” Arthur excitedly explained to Guinevere. “Honestly, I could see going to parties with that fellow.”
“That’s lovely to hear, Arthur,” she said sadly.
“I just wish that Arty would have been able to part with both rings.”
“It’s okay, Arthur.”
“Again, I offer it freely to you, my cherished.”
“It’s more important that you have it than I.”
“But I feel like such a heel.”
“You’re the face of the kingdom, dearest. I’m not.”
“Still.”
Merlin came scrambling up to them. He was looking all over the place for something. Arthur assumed it was one of his cameras or booms or what have you.
“Have either of you seen Allison?”
“She was here earlier,” said Arthur, glancing around.
“Yes, I know, but—”
“Wizard,” Galahad said, stepping up to them, “I did a little more looking into that watering mess you spoke of before. Are you sure you used magic for that?”
“I don’t have time for this right now, Galahad,” replied Merlin, “but why don’t you come to my cave later tonight and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”
Comedic Arthurian Bundle: The Adventures of Queen Arthur Page 8