Maybe a Green Knight

Maybe a Green Knight

       by Dougy the Kid

                        ae knicht thar wasse

                        und tat ae knoeble maene

                        hooe froe the time taet hae ferste beginne

                        to reeden oot luveden chivalrae

Yes, maybe a green knight. Lord, how that story stays with me. Children, gather round. I wish to tell you a tale of such humor and gumption, such valor and joyful sadness, that you will not be able to credit what you hear and it will, if the gods have any sense and purpose, determine your later years' knowledge and spirit. Here you are, then. Good. Are you comfortable, Janet? Would you like to get a drink of water first, Stilford? Somebody should sit between the twins. That's better. Good. Yes, Zane? Okay, come, there is a space beside me. Right, then. Let's see. Where should I begin? Oh, I've got it. I'll start in the midst of the action with the royal feast thrown by the great King Arthur of the legends. My little ones, you will be surprised at the events that this occasion brought about! Now, here in Britain we have so many reasons to be grateful, including the long history of plenty in our cupboards and granaries. But, also that wondrous plenty that is our literature, and it extends back as far as peoples lived and labored in these shires and in the various corners of our island.

       So, in and about the time 750 A.D. in the spring of the year, in the south of England, the grand King Arthur prepared a royal feast for his loyal knights and their "propre" ladies. (They said "propre" in those days, not "proper.") Children, though well loved by their parents, stayed away, neither invited to nor welcome at such a gallant and lavish banquet. Yes, Camry, I know, children like wine, too, but you see, adults need time to themselves now and then and this was one of those special occasions for the finest of our ancestors. Armour and weaponry gleamed upon the shoulders and waists of the young men, and amore in their eyes. Jewels of the finest quality and luscious colour winked and danced on the necks and bosoms of the young women, single and attached alike. Perfumes of almond and holly flower essences dappled invisible the air, clean and free, flowing in at the opened windows on this sparkling warm night. Lamps glowed, oak panels glistened, candlelight twinkled against the mirrored walls where fires, too, warmed and scented the room with faint wafts of smoking birch and cedar. The food arrived, carried in by courteous maids in white aprons. The ladies ate daintily, and the knights drank lustily, although not enough to interrupt the pleasures of conversation with the refined sex. Ox meat simmered on huge platters. Pig, roasted to perfection, with crab and melon about the base, sagged on plates the size of mill wheels. Breads and rolls from the King's own bakery, steaming still, lay piled about the board ready for anyone to touch and consume. Talk abounded of recent peace in the land. The whole of south England was the King's and these knights were duty-bound to keep it peaceful and free of villainy. Their first duty of love lay to God, their second to their King, and their third to their ladies, each man his paramour.

       Now, in the midst of the revelry and dance, suddenly, with the loud pounding of hoof beats and fearful neighing rode to the centre of the great room a figure of giant proportions and enormous height. His horse all green, his habrick, too, his body itself green as the new grass of spring.

                     

(to be continued)