Fear no more the frown of the great,
Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke:
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Randy Giggs wondered through the highlands of wherever. It had just dawned on him; he was a decade away from half of a century. He had been in the service of Sorcerer Ferguman for over a decade and even after the sorcerer’s demise, he felt tied, ball and chain to Old Traffordshire.
And what had he to show for it?
Except, well, what the whole of Britannia had come to know him for – Randy Giggs. Cheat. Low-life-brother’s wife stealing-adulterous-bugger.
Oh yes! And there was that part where he was a pretty good swordsman for the Henchmen of Old Traffordshire; but, was that enough? Randy Giggs felt despondent, he even seemed to be in a love-hate relationship with Moisty Moyes and the rest of the Henchmen. Judas-is-Van Puss couldn’t seem to stand him but who was Judas to judge? He was the same as he; all Judases, betrayed different people.
It was then that he saw the cliff with the ocean waves beating the sides of the rocks below.
He came to the edge of the cliff.
He looked down.
He took a step forward. He closed his eyes.
Down at the Armoury, Lord Flamini gave instructions to the Blacksmith…
Lord Flamini: Take-th out the sleeves of my armour and I need-th the tip of mine sword blunt but the sides as sharp as a two-edged sword.
Blacksmith: But Lord Flamini, all the other knights have-th their sleeves on, how shalt thou protect thyself from the brunt of swords in the heat of battle?
Lord Flamini: Nay! Do not ask-eth me questions. I know-eth my fighting style better than thee.
Blacksmith: Whatever you say-eth sir.
And then they heard the Cathedral bell and the town crier…
Town Crier 1: The Armpits of Southampton are approaching! They are at the Seven Sisters!!!
Town Crier 2: The Monseigneurs of Marseilles approach-eth!! They are at the plains of Finsbury!!!! Women! Children! The aged! Hide yourselves!
The knights and the Duke Wenger rush into the Armoury…
Duke Wenger: *Furious and panting* They try-eth to close in on us, our enemies. The Armpits of Southampton want us to pay them taxes; the Monseigneurs of Marseilles want our piece of the Chalice Louise.
Knights! Ready yourselves! Believe in the sacrifices paid by knights before you! Believe that this day, a thousand shall fall by thy right hand and ten thousand men by thy left and indeed, no harm shall befall thee! With thine eyes shall thou behold the recompense of our enemies!
And with those words, the knights grew brave and went out to fight.
But not without strategy.
The first battalion of knights set up the cannons at the intersection at Hornsey and Arthur while the cavalry readied themselves at Tollington; they were led by Lord Giroud. Here, they waited for the Armpits of Southampton.
The second battalion of knights set up the boiling pots of oil at the intersection at St. Thomas and Monsell, the cavalry set up at Gillespie; they were led by Lord Wilshere and here, they lay in wait for the Monseigneurs of Marseilles.
And fight they did.
At Tollington –
Armpit Boruc: Thou go-est nowhere French sissy! You think-est thou art the fairest man in all the land, thou think-est ye can ravish all the fair maidens in the South of Britannia. Thou think-est…
Lord Giroud: *plunging his sword into Boruc’s armpits* You talk too much.
Seeing their hero Boruc was bludgeoned in his armpits, they retreated. Victory
At Gillespie –
As the cavalry of the Marseilles were approaching at top gallop…
Lord Ozil: * In German * Herr Wilshere, was sollen wir tun, am oberen Galopp nähern sie sich…
Lord Wilshere: What the…?
Lord Per: He meant to say ‘what shall we do? They approach at top gallop’.
Lord Wilshere: Oh. You need to up your English classes. We release the boiling oil at my command.
Lord Gibbs: But, but, they round-eth the corner Wilshere, they…
Lord Wilshere: Now!!!
And the men at the boiling pots of oil released them and the Monseigneurs of Marseilles had their chariots in 3rd degree burns and their cavalry was vanquished. Victory.
Suddenly, he heard a voice from behind him shouting…
Voice: No Giggs! Nooo!
Randy Giggs slipped but caught the edge of the cliff so didn’t completely fall off it.
Randy Giggs: Help me please! Suicide seem-eth not like a good idea anymore. Who are you?
Voice: *the voice coming from just above his head now* You’re a top henchman Giggs, don’t do this. Besides, you aren’t alone in the world; you remind me of myself, we can be partners albeit from different kingdoms…
Randy Giggs: Stop talking and pull me up!
Voice: Oh, yes, that. Here, let me help you up.
And when Randy Giggs was safely on solid ground, he turned to thank his rescuer…
Randy Giggs: Huh? Fishmonger John Terry?
The Duke and his knights were exhausted, it was just past midnight; a new day but the sun had not awoken. As they walked back singing victory songs…
Fear no more the frown of the great,
Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke…
Esquire Gedion runs to meet them, panting…
Esquire Gedion: My Duke, your Majesty King Chips say-eth that ye must leave for Cumbria, the Kingdom of the Welshmen.
Duke Wenger: When?
Esquire Gedion: At sunrise, today.
Thank you for making it this far reading this medieval satire of mine. I’d be encouraged if you could leave comments telling me what you’d like to see added or improved.