The Courtship Of A Lady And A Sir
Never Time Tales written by on May 23, 2005
{Or, How Not To Get Caught With Your Armor Down Around Your Knees}
Once upon a Never Time, there was this princess living out in the country where a lot of princesses lived in them olde dayes. Though beautiful as flowers after a spring rain, she was melancholy and sighed a lot.
"Ah, me," she would say. That's how princesses sighed in them olde dayes. "I wish I knew why I'm so sad. There has to be a reason. Let's face it, I'm as beautiful as flowers after a spring rain. What else do I need? But, alas, the sadness has crept upon me like a fox upon a hare."
The princess was Lady Beatrice Sue or Lady B.S., as her maids in waiting called her. She had hair as red as the harvest moon with gold spun into it. Her eyes were Celtic green and as delightful to gaze into as the blue sky on a warm summer's day. The only apparel she ever wore were those long silk gowns, a different hue each day, and she was crowned with one of them pointy hats with a long, see-through hanky trailing from the tip. The hat was what we nowadays call a dunce's cap. But in them olde dayes, they were lady hats. They just didn't know any better I guess.
"Ah me," she sighed again. "What ever will I do. I have plenty of folks to order around and do my bidding. I have all the money I need since I don't go anywhere to spend it. I have this lovely castle with turrets and pennants flying from them. I've got more maids-in-waiting than I can shake a stick at. So, why am I so sad?"
Then she espied one of her maids in the garden below her window who was making time with her livery man. How sweet, Lady Beatrice Sue thought, as she watched the two lovers spoon and pitch a couple of buckets of woo.
"How I wish I had someone to court me."
At that moment she swatted the air in front of her face to brush away a pesky gnat. Then a fiery torch appeared over her hat. {There were no light bulbs in them olde dayes.}
"That's it!!!," she cried aloud, scaring a dozen roosting pigeons above her window and interrupting the two lovers in the garden, who scattered and ran as if the dickens were after them.
"I need myself a man! I need myself one of them Sirs who go galloping off on their snow-white steeds {that's what folks called horses in them olde dayes} on them dragon hunts and other dangerous quests. But I'm not likely to see one of them fellers messing around these parts. Ah me."
Meanwhile, a couple of leagues away on the other side of the forest that surrounded Lady Beatrice's castle just like that Sherwood one in England during Robin Hood's time, a Sir called Sir Bobby Ray was cantering down the road on his mottled-gray steed. He was on a quest. He was tall in the saddle. (Yes, they had saddles in them olde dayes. Do you realize how bony the backs of them brave, charging steeds could get back then? Sirs were notorious for not taking horse fodder with them on their quests and steeds got awfully hungry carrying around all that weight. A bony horse backbone did not a happy Sir make.) He was very deep in thought. He was asleep. Although he had been out and about for a couple of fortnights, he had not decided which type of quest he was making. The only reason he was doing his knightly thing was because of a dare he accepted from his buddy Sir Billy Bob. Sir Bobby Ray, after a few days on the road, fervently swore off strong spirits.
A loud snore pierced Sir Bobby Ray's ears, which brought him to full consciousness. The noise emanated from his steed which had decided to go to sleep in mid canter. The drowsy Sir pulled his gauntlet gloves from his belt and swatted his steed. The steed stopped suddenly and almost unseated Sir Bobby Ray. The angry Sir looked for his mace to bean the startled, sleepy-eyed equine when out of the corner of his eye he espied a dragon up the road sneaking upon a friar out hunting for herbs. It was at that instant that Sir Bobby Ray discovered the object of his quest. (Our boy was chock full of smarts.)
Sir Bobby Ray surmised that this dragon was about to get its jollies by pouncing on the unsuspecting cleric. That was a favorite pastime for dragons in them olde dayes; pouncing on priests. Sir Bobby Ray spit out the wad of tree sap he had been chewing {tobacco hadn't been invented yet} and yelled, "Hey, dragon, don't you dare pounce on that priest."
Sir Bobby Ray's warning outcry stopped the dragon in mid sneak and startled the bejesus out of the monk. Both looked at Sir Bobby Ray, the dragon in anger; the monk in confusion, which instantly turned to fright and then horror when he saw the danger he was in. The monk had been warned that there were priest pouncing dragons in that neck of the woods, but being a nonviolent person, he just couldn't fathom that one of God's creatures would harm a man of the cloth; scratchy, wooly cloth, but cloth never the less.
The dragon snarled at Sir Bobby Ray, "Mind your own business you steed riding slug or I'll fry your taters. Get out of here."
Oh yeah, dragons could talk in them olde dayes.
"You're not going to pounce on that priest, dragon," Sir Bobby Ray yelled pulling on his gauntlet gloves, closing his helmet visor, and drawing his jousting lance. "If you do I'll spit you like a barbecued chicken and leave your remains for the buzzards to devour. For soothe."
Sir Bobby Ray had more bravery than brains. He didn't realize how hot a dragon's breath fire could be since this was his first quest and he had never ventured upon a dragon before. He didn't realize the danger he was putting his steed through either. He didn't realize that dragons were notorious for doing just the opposite of what is commanded of them.
Squish!!!
Before the priest could get out an "Ave Maria" he was an oil slick on the road. {Don't raise your eyebrows at me, reader. Some priests weren't so lucky in them olde dayes. Some got pounced on. Those are the grim facts. I would really have liked to avoid such terrible acts, but you can't tell dragons nothing.}
"That did it, you scaly lump of slime. You're toast!" Sir Bobby Ray yelled and spurred his mottled-gray steed to the charge.
"Come on, baby, let's do this thing," the dragon growled. "We'll see who's toast."
The dragon drew in a deep gulp of air and snorted out a long stream of dragon fire toward the charging Sir on his mottled-gray steed. Fortunately, the steed wasn't as determined as Sir Bobby Ray. When the two were in singeing distance of the flame, the steed made the most perfect one point right turn you ever saw and continued the charge in a completely different direction. Unfortunately, Sir Bobby Ray wasn't privy to his steed's good sense and therefore kept going forward as if flung from a slingshot. Fortunately, he hit the ground and rolled under the flame, making a loud clanging noise with each revolution. Unfortunately, he stopped just in front of the dragon, which was raising it's right foot to stomp Sir Bobby Ray. Fortunately, Sir Bobby Ray's lance, which had continued the journey when loosed from his grasp, penetrated the dragon's chest and pierced its heart. Unfortunately, Sir Bobby Ray was right up under the falling dragon. Fortunately, well, heck, to make this long incident short, Sir Bobby Ray got out of the way in the nick of time.
In the meantime, while Sir Bobby Ray was catching his relieved breath, Lady Beatrice Sue was still perched in her window sighing like all get out. She figured that with her luck she would never run into a Sir any time soon. Then she noticed a cloud of dust rising above the trees close to the edge of the woods across the meadow. Then, like a greased pig squished out of grasping arms, the cloud of smoke evolved into a pure white steed galloping out of the woods and heading straight for the castle. The steed was so frantic in its apparent fright it didn't exactly see the castle standing in its path.
"Look out!!!" Lady B.S. yelled.
As the steed looked up to see who was yelling it smacked head first into the castle wall. Now I don't know about your modern day castles, but the one Lady B.S. lived in was built to stay. Neither thunder, rain, earthquake, nor a runaway steed could budge it from its foundation. It was no contest. The poor bag of frightened bones lost, crumpling in a heap.
Lady B.S. thought the steed was dead. All she saw of its face was one big surprised eyeball. She assumed the other eye matched the one showing. The steed's legs were pointing in three different directions (one leg was beneath the beast). The startled lady was astonished and wondered why the fool beast would do such a thing. She heard a noise from the direction in which the steed had come. At that instant Sir Bobby Ray clumped out of the woods (that was the sound a knight made when limping in armor).
"@#$%^&* steed!" Sir Bobby Ray was muttering. "When I get my hands on that @#$% glue pot I'm going to take the $#%@& by the neck and rip his fool head off!"
Our boy was slightly miffed.
Then Sir Bobby Ray stopped his muttering and his clumping when he saw the castle across the meadow. He saw Lady Beatrice Sue gazing at him from her window. If Sir Bobby Ray had seen the gleam in those green eyes he would have forgotten his previously mottled-gray steed and taken off for other parts of the shire. But, we wouldn't have much of a story here if he had done that. Haven't you ever wondered why some folks in books and movies never seem to have any common sense and do a lot of stupid things that you or I wouldn't dream of doing? It's because, if they did show some sense, there would be no story.
"Hey, Sir," Lady B.S. hollered as the recently created pedestrian approached. "Is this your steed?" She pointed down toward the still unmoving steed.
"Yep."
"You want to get him off my rose bushes? He'll smell if he stays there much longer. I don't like smelly steeds no matter who rides in on them or in your case, follows behind."
"You can keep him," Sir Bobby Ray replied and spit in the dirt to emphasize his disgust.
"I don't want him. See, he's drawing flies already."
"Don't you have a livery man who can do that for you?"
"Yeah, but they usually take care of steeds that still move. Yours quit moving when he hit my wall."
"I'm not up to full strength just now. I'm sore, clumping, and with the mood I'm in I'll probably hack at him with my sword."
"He looks dead already," Lady B.S. said looking sad.
"Naw, he ain't dead. It's not the first time he's run into something. See that stunned look in his eye?"
"He still looks dead."
"He'll come around in an hour or so and probably won't remember a thing."
"Well, I guess he can stay there a bit," Lady B.S. said. "While you're waiting for him to stir, why don't you come on in for a bite to eat."
Lady B.S. saw a puff a dust appear in the spot where Sir Bobby Ray had been standing. Next she heard a loud clanging from down stairs followed by, "Hey, lady, where are you?"
"I'll be right down," Lady B.S. said raising the hem of her long dress and heading for the stairs. "I hope there's enough in the larder to fix right away," she muttered. "That boy appears a mite famished."
When she got down stairs to the dining room, Sir Bobby Ray was already seated at the long wooden table with a knife in each hand waiting for the food. (They didn't have forks in them olde dayes, which invariably was the reason why no one got in the way of a hungry man.) The growls which emanated from Sir Bobby Ray's stomach echoed inside his armor.
"Why don't you climb out of that hot armor and make yourself comfortable," Lady B.S. said. "Then go into the adjoining room and jump into some hot bath water. Take off your clothes first."
"Bath water!" Sir Bobby Ray exclaimed with a fright. "Bath water?" he repeated, because he couldn't think of anything else to say so frightened he was. Folks in them olde dayes were great conservationists when it came to water usage.
"Yeah, bath water," said Lady B.S. "That stuff you get into that removes dust, dirt, stains, and, phew, smell."
"Bath water! Hah!"
"Go ahead. I promise it won't kill you."
Sir Bobby Ray was too stunned to argue and with trepidation stepped into the next room. Sirs in them olde dayes never bathed. It was considered, well, it wasn't considered anything. They just didn't bathe. Most Sirs were afraid of water, especially those who had fallen off their steeds in full armor and had to be hauled out of the drink with a crane. Sir Bobby Ray hadn't even had his armor off in the several weeks since its donning and removal required more than one person. And, steeds were not known for being very helpful in the squire department.
"Bath water!"
"And, oh yeah, chuck those clothes you're wearing under that tin can. If they don't disintegrate toss them into the fireplace. My servants will lay out a fresh tunic and pair of tights for you."
The door closed behind Sir Bobby Ray and Lady B.S. could hear a last muffled, "Bath water!"
While Sir Bobby Ray was tending to his ablutions, Lady Beatrice Sue busily put together a feast with her own hands. She didn't want to leave it for her servants to do, although they were considered good at it. She just wanted it to mean something special to her intended. She set the table with trenchers of hot, steaming, assorted vegetables. She piled onto other trays several different cuts of meats from bovines, deer, and fowl. Loaves of round, brown bread invited a smearing of the fresh tubs of butter and pots of honey. Wheels of cheese came next along with mugs of mead and ale.
"There," she said when it was all done. "That should take care of his hunger. I wonder what's taking him so long."
She tipped toed to the door of the room in which Sir Bobby Ray had entered. She put her ear against it and listened. She heard some splashing and giggling interspersed with a muttered, "Bath water." Lady B.S. knocked on the door and yelled, "Foods on the table."
Luckily, Lady B.S. had the foresight to step out of the way, for the door was suddenly flung open and there stood a dripping Sir wearing nothing but a drool covered smile.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, go back in there and put on your clothes."
Sir Bobby Ray looked down, gulped and immediately slammed the door shut.
"Don't those boys ever eat or are they always hungry?" Lady B.S. asked herself.
Just as suddenly, the door opened and out pranced Sir Bobby Ray attired in the new duds that were provided for him. The clothes were busily soaking up the moisture on Sir Bobby Ray's skin. He had not taken the time to towel off. In all probability, he didn't know what a towel was or what it was used for.
"Where's the food?"
Lady B.S. pointed to the table which instantly was adorned by a Sir with flashing knives. Lady B.S. decided that it was safer to watch Sir Bobby Ray at a distance.
After devouring about everything that had been put on the table, Sir Bobby Ray became very lethargic. It was as if he had taken some mind dulling drug. Lady Beatrice Sue knew then that he would be susceptible to just about any suggestion she could make. She grinned broadly and waltzed over to Sir Bobby Ray and sat down beside him.
And that was it. The next thing Sir Bobby Ray consciously remembered afterwards was saying, "Yeah, sure," and he was Lord of the castle. But since this was a community property shire, Lady B.S. owned all of her holdings and half of everything Sir Bobby Ray called his own. However, that didn't present a problem for the errant Sir. He wasn't doing anything with what he had anyway. At least he no longer felt obligated to go galloping off to slay dragons, roust Them There giants, rescue fair maidens, and so forth. He would not miss the early, frosty mornings when he pert near had to start a fire in his armor to get warm. He seriously considered making a pot bellied stove out of his armor, but decided against it. He'd rather go fly a kite in a storm than fool around with armor again for any purpose. Let the other Sirs go out and freeze their keesters in those tin cans.
There it was. Sir Bobby Ray and Lady Beatrice of Merry Dale Shire just living happily ever after. Many have wondered if this tale is true. Well, it might be. If you were to take a look at history you would discover the delightful tales of Antony and Cleopatra, King Arthur and Queen Guenevre, George and Gracie, Lucy and Ricky, and many others. Were any of those stories true? Maybe. Maybe not. What do you think? For now we'll leave the newlyweds alone with their selves. But don't fret. You'll read about them in future Never Time Tales.
