by April Hill
In deference, perhaps, to Edward's presence, the king seemed content to leave in place the thin, short borrowed shift that barely covered the more intimate parts of my backside, although that propriety did very little to protect any part of me as the deed commenced.
"May I?" Arthur inquired of my rotten spouse, and Edward nodded.
"Aye, Your Majesty, and I am sure my good wife will be humbly grateful for any correction you deem necessary." Edward's good wife glared at her good husband and made a mental note to poison his very next home-cooked meal.
And so began a brief episode that is not memorialized, to my knowledge, in any history book or book of poetic legend. But it was memorable, even unforgettable. Edward explained later that the romantic age of chivalry, when knights fawned over fair ladies, put them on ivory pedestals and adored them like goddesses… Remember all that "When Knighthood Was in Flower" nonsense? Well, the books had it all wrong, my dears. As my luck would have it, that lovely age was about 800 years in the future. In this age, in 489 A.D., most men had the finesse and charm of Attila the Hun or Gor the Hirsute Viking.
Arthur proved himself to be an exceptionally strong and determined fellow, who appeared to take no note whatsoever of the fact that my previously caned buttocks were already the color of two pleasantly ripe apples. As the wide ruler left its first searing welts, I bit my lip, gritted my teeth and vowed not to give Edward or his liege lord the satisfaction of screaming my head off, as I so dearly wanted.
After perhaps twenty solid swats up and down my devastated derriere and thighs, however, my pride simply dissolved and I began to buck, kick, and howl in pain at every new swat. It did not escape my notice that even the traitorous Edward winced each time the ruler laded with a dull thwack on my wounded cheeks.
When he had finished, Arthur set me on my feet and rubbed his hands together. "I believe she will be less inclined now to disturb a man at his work," he said. "Do you not agree, Edward?" The king lifted the tail of my garment and displayed his handiwork rather proudly. I can't prove it, but I think they were both warming their hands by the cheery glow of my scorched behind.
"Yes, sire," Edward agreed. (Not understanding, apparently, just how little time he had left to live, and that he would never, ever, until his last day on Earth, be welcome again between my alabaster thighs.)
"Well, then," Arthur sighed, stretching his arms. "I will leave you now, and attend to my own good wife, who will not sit again on her own sweet backside for three days when I have done spanking it." He turned the thick ruler over in his hand and slapped his palm with it. "This ruler was an excellent suggestion, Edward, although I doubt that Jenny will agree, shortly. I bid you good night, now. And perhaps in the morning, we will be able to at last visit your marvelous device."
As Edward and I returned to our room, I heard the distinct sounds of another spanking echoing down the hallway from the royal quarters, and was pleased to know from the agonized wails that poor, silly Guinevere was paying the painful price for her casual indiscretion and enduring her own swats with the awful ruler. I would have enjoyed it rather more, however, had Edward not added his own penalty to what I had just suffered by bending me over a chair and adding ten vigorous swats with his belt to my bare and scalded rear end.
"You are a detestable rat," I sobbed, bouncing about the room in agony.
"And you were meddling," he stated simply with absolutely no trace of apology in his voice. "Had Arthur taken your comments about his idiot wife seriously, you might have been responsible for an enormously dangerous alteration of history."
"Besides," he added with a grin, "Arthur is sometimes credited with having instituted the first wide-spread respect for truth and justice, the very foundations of English law as we know it today. How on Earth could I argue with such a man? He had his reasons, and so did I. Pull up your drawers, and let's go to bed. I've had an exhausting day!"
And so it was that I slept all night on my stomach, with my bottom in flames, awoke with fleas, and received no sympathy at all for a spanking of royal, heroic, nay legendary proportions!
* * * *
When we arose the following day, the rain had finally stopped and as we prepared to return to the machine, Edward was still busily scribbling notes on a piece of parchment.
"I had an idea last night," he explained when I looked over his shoulder.
"So did I," I replied sullenly, "But my idea would have left you without reproductive apparatus or progeny." I illustrated my point by rubbing my aching backside.
"Still sore?" he inquired, barely looking up from his computations and with absolutely no interest at all in my discomfort.
"Just tell me that you've devised a way to get us home," I snapped irritably. "Or are we to stay here and witness Arthur being cuckolded by his child-bride and that French cad, Lancelot, followed by the sad collapse of 'truth and justice and English law as we know it today'? "
"Home, I hope. And in the proper year, if nothing goes amiss."
"Well, if we're a year or so older than we were when we left, what will it matter when we're both ninety?" I sighed. (I had decided to forgive Edward, for the moment, and take up the matter of his treachery later, when he didn't hold the only hope for our getting out of here. There would be retribution, I vowed.)
Edward shook his head. "You don't understand, darling. If we don't return to the cellar at precisely the same moment we left, we'll never coincide, as it were with Herbert, or Jane, or anyone we knew. You and I will continue to exist in a reality, a time frame, just before, or just after, a separate place and time entirely. As though we were on two different railroad tracks, where one train is always before or behind the next."
I looked at Edward with disbelief. "But how can we ever hope to arrive back with such precision? We've come back some 1400 years! Are you suggesting that we might be forever lost in time?"
Edward put his arms around me. "Please try not to worry, yet, my love. I need time to work out the details, but I believe this can be done. It must be possible."
I tried to smile, but 1909 seemed a terribly long way away, and I, for one, was growing very, very tired of 489 A.D.
There was a knock at the door. The expedition to inspect the machine was afoot.
At first, Arthur insisted that I remain at the fortress with Guinevere (doing more needlepoint, no doubt, with both of us resting our well-spanked bottoms on thick cushions). Edward, however, managed to convince the king that my presence was required, since it was I who had been at the controls when we departed the laboratory, and that I might possibly remember some small detail of "my lamentable error." Finally, still annoyed at being accompanied on such a momentous errand by a mere woman, Arthur consented, and off we went in a caravan of knights, lackeys, royal astronomers and assorted men of science to glimpse the peculiar phenomenon of our Time Machine. As we rumbled down the road in two carriages similar to the one we had seen that first day, Edward was obviously uneasy.
"Did you see the man standing in the courtyard as we left?" he inquired in a whisper. "The one in the very dark blue cloak?" We were quite alone in the carriage, but a number of guards walked or rode alongside, and there was some danger of being overheard.
"The fat one in the other carriage?" I asked. "With the giant wart on his nose?"
Edward nodded. "Yes, the astronomer. The man with him, the skinny one, claims to be the court soothsayer, a seer or wizard, of sorts, I assume. A magician, by any other name."
"Magic," I exclaimed, careful to keep my voice low. "I thought Arthur didn't believe in that sort of superstition."
"He may not, but he has little choice but to pretend a certain level of respect. It's still the way things are done here and will be for hundreds of years to come. From the questions they've already asked of me, I suspect that neither the astronomer nor the soothsayer will keep an open mind at this so-called inspection."
"Then, why are they here?" I asked, becoming concerned now.
Edward shook his head. "Curiosi
ty perhaps, but I think we should keep our eyes open. If any harm befalls the machine..." His voice trailed off, and despite the warmth of the day, I began to shiver.
* * * *
The Time Machine was exactly where we had left it, its ponderous weight making it impossible to move easily. There were a number of uniformed guards standing nearby, apparently assigned to protect it, and I sensed a certain level of fear from them. Neither they nor any of the others in our party seemed eager to be close to it or to touch its now muddy exterior. Arthur, indeed, was the only member of the group to join Edward and I in approaching the machine. He leaped eagerly from his horse, and encouraged his men of science to follow, an offer they declined, to a man.
"Has the device suffered any harm, Edward?" the king asked, the concern obvious in his kindly face.
Edward checked the machine over quickly. "None that I see. It's quite durable, it seems. It must be, of course, to withstand what it does."
"My God!" Arthur cried, reaching out with obvious awe to touch the Time Machine for the first time. "How beautiful it is. And marvelous to behold."
"Beautiful?" a voice screamed from somewhere above us. "Marvelous? 'Tis naught but the work of demons and of Beelzebub himself." The soothsayer and the astronomer were standing on the bridge above, waving their arms wildly and shrieking something in Latin. Suddenly, a large rock crashed into the bubble-like roof of the machine and bounced off, leaving a bad scratch in the surface. Edward dashed forward to inspect the damage as several smaller rocks rained down from the bridge, peppering not only the machine, but also, the three of us.
"Stop it," Arthur bellowed, throwing up his hand. "Stop this, at once! Guards, seize those men, and shackle them. I will not tolerate this infamy."
The guards looked at one another unsurely, their ranks in disarray and suddenly uncertain of their loyalties. Arthur shouted another order, and with obvious reluctance, the guards obeyed, moving up the slope toward the screaming magicians.
"The infamy is thine, Arthur," The seer screeched. "This fiendish, infernal beast springs from the bowels of Hell itself and all who touch it will be cursed! Yea, cast into outer darkness. And the wicked who have brought this thing upon us must also surely perish!"
As he shrieked once again, the soothsayer/seer pulled a huge rock from the crumbling wall of the ancient bridge, and with the help of the aged astronomer, managed to shove it over the edge of the wall. It came crashing down, missing the Time Machine by mere inches. As we watched with horror from under the bridge, several more of the "men of science" snatched up rocks and sticks of varying sizes and began hurling them down at us and at the machine. Suddenly, Arthur grabbed Edward and I each by an elbow, and shoved us toward the machine.
"Our cause here is doomed, my friends. Ignorance is a vicious enemy, I fear. You must go," he urged. "At once. While you are able!"
"But, you," Edward protested, pushing me into the machine.
Arthur smiled sadly. "I will deal with this, as I have before, and will again. But you must flee, before these superstitious fools destroy you and this wondrous device! Go now! Return to your own time and speak of me kindly, if you can!"
Another rock glanced off the top, and with obvious reluctance, Edward crawled in beside me. There was no time to try Edward's new computations, but only a second to close our eyes, pray for a moment and press the crystal lever.
The sky above us went black, and then, for a mere fraction of an instant, I saw Arthur's face in a glowing, golden cloud, and then Edward and myself outlined in an impossibly brilliant halo of white light and what seemed to be bolts of electrical current. And then, in the next millisecond, we both exploded into dazzling prisms of color, hurled forward into the deep, endlessly dark void of trackless time and infinite space.
.
Chapter Four
It seemed no more than a second after our departure from Camelot and its more unfriendly inhabitants before we felt a great thump, signifying that we had landed. It was with some trepidation that I opened my eyes to see where the Time Machine had deposited us. I couldn't help but be saddened to see immediately that we were not in 1909 London, or even it's near environs. Edward climbed from the Time Machine and shielded his eyes to look about.
"I can see nothing at all!" I cried miserably. "Where on Earth are we?"
I tried with little success to clear the dust from my eyes. The machine had come to rest on solid ground, but our landing had kicked up a great deal of what appeared to be a soft, grayish powder, or dust which clogged the nostrils and smelled terrible.
"I haven't the faintest idea where we are," Edward replied, "but the place seems exceptionally barren and arid. Over there, in the distance, I can make out a number of odd structures, though."
"Does any one of them look like our house?" I asked forlornly, although I knew better. "Even a little bit?"
Edward shook his head. "Not even remotely, my love. I've never seen anyplace like this, actually."
I rubbed my eyes again and peered through the glass windscreen.
"It looks like Africa," I exclaimed. "Those might be termite hills, mightn't they? I saw pictures of them in one of Uncle Herbert's books."
"I'm afraid not, darling," Edward said, squinting into the brilliant sun. "We're quite a distance away yet. They're probably a good deal larger than they appear from here, and unless termites have taken to using windows and doors, those structures are not made by termites, but men."
He pointed then, not only to the "termite hills," but also to a clot of moving figures in the distance. A crowd was coming toward us at a rapid pace.
"Thank God," I cried. "People!"
Edward seemed somewhat less enthusiastic. "Blue," he said incredulously.
"Blue?" I repeated. "Blue what?"
"Blue people, Abigail. They are distinctly blue."
You will perhaps understand my immense displeasure at hearing this. I knew of no people at all of that color in London, or anywhere in Europe, for that matter.
Edward shook his head in astonishment. "Not only are they blue in color, but they're extremely small, Abby. No taller than a meter, at most." Edward was having difficulty keeping the excitement and delight from his voice. Edward would have greeted cannibals with enthusiasm, were they of some scientific interest. Diminutive men with blue skin made him positively giddy.
It would have required a good deal of luck to have arrived precisely where we wished, of course, especially in light of our very hasty and perilous departure from the year 489 A.D. and our less than reliable navigational equipment, but I had hoped for a more amiable locale than this one. I believe that neither of us actually wanted to look down at the time clock, either, but Edward, being the braver, wiped the dust from the clock's face and looked, then sat for a moment before saying anything.
"3599," he said quietly. "The time clock reads 3599—almost to 3600."
"B.C.?" I asked nervously. I was attempting to bring to mind the precise date of Noah's presumed sailing, Moses' exodus from Egypt, Cleopatra's reign and other assorted bits of historical trivia.
"A.D." Edward said glumly. "It appears we have overshot our mark, somewhat."
"Somewhat?" I shrieked. "Overshot it somewhat! By two thousand bloody years? What kind of idiotic, incompetent inventor are you, anyway? I swear, had I paid for this filthy machine of yours, I would insist upon having my money returned."
Edward turned and gave me the sort of look that I have learned often precedes a rather significant spanking, so I closed my mouth and watched with both fear and curiosity as the crowd of tiny, distinctly blue citizens of the year 3599 A.D. approached. Moments later, we were surrounded. There was a great babble of what sounded like birds chirping as hundreds of dainty blue hands began to touch us everywhere about our bodies. Such fondling would have seemed rude under different circumstances, but their child-like size, accompanied by a rather sweet curiosity and shyness put us quickly at ease. In spite of our considerably greater size, the little blue creatures seemed
not at all frightened of us, and oddly, showed no interest whatever in the Time Machine. Several of them took our hands, and drew us along through the fine dust, back to what I assumed was their village.
The community appeared to be fairly small, with perhaps a hundred of the odd "termite hill" structures we had seen from a distance. Most of these seemed to be family dwellings, with a scattering of much larger ones, presumably meeting places for community activities. We were led briefly about on what seemed to be a guided tour, as one might take of any strange city, during which the tiny men competed for our attentions. It was all quite amiable and fascinating, until one of the little fellows did something unspeakably rude.
I have referred, until now, to all of the creatures as fellows simply because until then, I had detected no anatomical indications that there was more than a single sex among them. The observation was made rather easily, since they were all quite unashamedly naked and were possessed of no visible external… uh, sexual apparatus. Perhaps, it occurred to me, the women were not permitted out among the men. It could be a society even less given to equality than ours.
In any case, one of the smaller of the little men–apparently a child–appeared fascinated with my clothing and repeatedly lifted the hem of my skirt to peer underneath. I was very polite, at first, in removing his hand and shaking my head no, and did this perhaps a dozen times before I became impatient with his persistence. He clearly understood my meaning, yet not a minute later, he would do it again, each time becoming bolder in his explorations. Finally, Edward noticed my plight and spoke quite firmly to the little fellow. After Edward's third, increasingly stern warning, however, the "child" suddenly dropped to the ground, wriggled under my skirts, and thrust his small blue fingers very roughly into a number of places I would have preferred he hadn't. When I cried out and tried to move away, there issued from beneath my skirts what could only be called a lascivious giggling noise. Even in the peculiar bird-like language, the sound of delighted lust was unmistakable. Edward reached down and dragged the young lecher from his hiding place and with another firm "No!" and set him on his feet in the dust. Almost immediately, the disobedient child dropped to his knees and burrowed beneath my skirts, again. This time, the assault was direct, and his reach well aimed. Before I could stop myself, I had emitted a shriek of outrage, which evidently alarmed the crowd. They all stepped back quickly, chattering in fright and clapping their tiny hands over where their ears might have been, had they possessed such anatomical appendages.