He Hasn't Got Shit All Over Him... Yet.

Sir Epididymis awoke with a start. Quickly rising to his feet--a little too quickly as it turned out, for blood rushed rapidly from his head, thankfully not out of his head though--he called out, "Gentle peasant, I seem to have overslept. Has, by any chance, good Sir Mace Manly yet made his way here marching under the magnificent banner of the Merry Marquess of the Midland Marche Marshes?

"Eh?" the farmer replied. "Don't know anythin' 'bout that. Never erd of 'em."

"Never erd of 'em?" Sir Epididymis cleared his throat. "Excuse me, never heard of him? Why he's only the most famous, bravest knight in the entire kingdom. How can you not have heard of him?"

"Knight?" the farmer pondered the word. "'Ee the one on 'eer, then?" the farmer pulled out a copper and held it up to Sir Epididymis.

"No!" Sir Epididymis cried. "That's the King!"

"The what?"

"The King!"

"Never erd of 'em."

"Never heard of the King?"

"'Ee important, Guvnor?"

"Important? He's the King!"

"Important's the King? Never erd of 'em."

"No! The King is important!"

"Same person, then, eh Guvnor?"

"The King is the sovereign of our entire realm!"

"Not my sovereign, I didn't vote fer him."

"Didn't vote for the King? Of course not! You don't vote for the King. Are you mad?"

"Am now, Guvnor. What about my rights? I 'ave a voice too you know."

Sir Epididymis clenched one armored fist around the throat of the stocky peasant. "Now you listen here," he said, "if you refuse to pay proper respect for the King, I will be forced to--"

The peasant managed to wiggle free and, after putting a dozen steps between himself and Sir Epididymis, shouted, "You can't stop us all!"

"Who all?" the Knight errant tried to close in on the fleeing peasant.

"The people!" the peasant answered. "The masses! Huddled and yearning to breathe free! The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few--from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs."

"What are you blathering on about? Hey! Come back here!"

The peasant was dancing away merrily. "These are the times that try men's souls, now is the winter of our discont--wait, that's not right--I'm Spartacus!"

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Having given up all hope on the matter of the maddened peasants of North Umborgringlugrand--for they all seemed to consider themselves members of what they called an "anarcho-syndicist commune"--Sir Epididymis rode toward the dark wooded region known as Fenndar Forest in hopes of crossing over into the rather saner County Winterset and from there to Grainwahl. Unfortunately, dismounting at a bridge crossing just before dusk, he came upon a band of peasants.

"'Afternoon," said one of them.

"Greetings, noble farmer. What brings you so far from your cropland at this hour?"

"Oh, I don't 'ave any cropland," the peasant replied. "I'm with customs, I am."

"Customs? What kind of customs?"

"See yonder trees?"

"Behind you? They are rather obvious."

"Those are the ones, yes. They make up the border 'tween the lands."

"Yes, I understand that. I intend to cross into County Winterset."

"Figured as much."

"Is there a problem with that?" Sir Epididymis was getting irritated.

"None at all."

"Then good evening to you."

"Just one moment though," the peasant said quickly.

"Yes?" Sir Epididymis grated his teeth.

"You 'ave to pay the toll."

"Oh, of course. The bridge toll. Very well." Sir Epididymis handed over the requested number of crowns then said again, "Good evening."

"Good evening," the man who had taken the crowns replied. "Wait," he added suddenly, just as Sir Epididymis was making his way across the bridge.

"What is it now?"

"Just... you 'aven't performed any knightly services while in our land 'ave you?"

"Of course I have!" Sir Epididymis balked. "I'm a knight! Now if you'll excuse me..."

"By any chance, did you receive payment for any of those services."

"I may have... how is it any of your business?"

"As chief customs officer," the man began, "I must inquire into services rendered and the amount, if any, of payment received."

"You what?"

"As chief customs officer I must..."

"I heard that! This is madness! Your whole 'commune' is tremendously silly, and I will not discuss the matter any further."

"Then you'll have to come with us, I'm afraid. To jail."

"To jail? For saving a damsel from a gang of bandits and another from a dragon? If I managed to banish Satan himself would I go to the gallows?"

"Only if you fail to pay the fees. Now, however, we are making progress. How many bandits were there?"

"Five."

"Good. Now, it may sound silly, but was it a male of female dragon?"

"What?"

"Just answer the question, sir. We're almost done now."

"Female, I believe."

"You believe?"

"Come now, how should I know the difference?"

"Yes, well that is why we're studying them," the customs officer replied as another of the 'officers' whispered in his ear. "Did you slay the dragon?" he added.

"Yes, I slew the bloody dragon! It was going to kill the damsel, that's what dragons do! I'm a knight, that's what I do!"

"No need to get upset," he said as the same man whispered in his ear again. "Oh my. I'm terribly sorry," he added. "The fine for killing a bitch is very large."

"Killing a what?"

"A bitch. A female dragon. That's what we call it. The town council is considering changing it to something less offensive, like 'sow.' If you have any suggestions, please mail them to..."

"I don't have any suggestions, and I never will. Now. What. Is. Your. Fine?"

"Quite a bit. The dragon is an endangered species you know..."

"Endangered? Good! I'd be happy to pay any amount if it would rid the world of such vile creatures. Now tell me the fine!"

"Oh, about let's say..." the customs officer looked around, "the cost of that horse. I mean a horse," he added quickly.

"My horse?" Sir Epididymis replied incredulously.

"Not your horse. Any horse will do."

"But you said my horse."

"No, I said your horse and then I quickly corrected myself in order to hide the fact that I was making everything up as I go along. Any horse will do. If you can find another horse I will take that one as well."

"You made that up, didn't you?"

"Did not!"

Yes you did!"

"No I didn't!"

"You made the whole thing up. You are nothing but horse thieves!"

"Nonsense," the officer looked at a clipboard he produced seemingly out of nowhere. "Slander against a government officer, check. That will cost you one sword."

"I will not disarm myself! Now step aside and let me pass from this wretched land."

"I'm afraid I can't do that. Now how much did each damsel pay you for your services?"

"..."

"Your silence is only making things harder on you. Tax evasion is a serious crime."

"...They did not compensate me monetarily."

"Waitaminute. What is that supposed to mean, 'good' sir knight?"

"It means we had a good roll in the hay."

"Do you mean to tell me that you contracted business with their families in exchange for sexual favors?" the officer asked ominously.

"Yes, if you prefer to couch it in such unromantic terms. Now if it pleases, I shall take my leave."

"Leave? You can't leave! Men, arrest him for lewd acts!"

"Stay back!" Sir Epididymis whipped out his sword.

"You did the crime, now you have to do the time."

"Crime? You people are lunatics. Gather taxes from your own people and worry about them. I'm leaving this wretched land forever."

"If you do, we'll have to forward it to collections; we are in desperate need of finances to fight the increasing crime and attacks by dragons."

"Of course you have increasing crime and dragon attacks! You put a fine on slaying the latter, and do everything you can to drive out those who would thwart crime by private initiative."

"No, you misunderstand the situation. The dragons are reacting to the encroachment upon their land by the ever-growing local population; we tried a one-child policy but it hasn't taken effect yet. Perhaps in another thirty years the problem will be gone. As for the criminals, well, they just need a better education which we can't afford to give them--all thanks to stingy scrooges like you."

"Perhaps if you spent more time producing something of value, and less heckling those who wish to help, you would find your land to be wealthier."

"Oh, turn it around on me! Just typical. You overfed, inbred aristocrats with no valuable skills outside of killing people--real productive that--should just listen to us hard-working and more numerous..."

"Shut up! Shut up! Will you shut up?" Sir Epididymis cried. "I'll show you just how productive killing can be, bloody peasant!" With that Sir Epididymis ran the chief customs officer through with cold steel, sliced the next nearest peasant across the throat, and mounted his trusty steed. The remaining peasants scattered as he charged across the bridge and into the dark forest beyond just as the last of the sun's golden rays vanished behind the green hilltops. "Finally!" Sir Epididymis sighed, his horse plodding peacefully along the cool, shaded forest. The woods were calm and the damp pine needles fragrant. No noises save those of his horse and his incessant massaging of his temples made their way to his ears. "What a blight upon the earth!" he cursed. "God willing, I nor anyone else of sound mind will never have to see such ignorance given voice again till kingdom come."

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"Unhand me! Help!" cried a raven-haired maiden with creamy white skin. Then... "Bastard."

"That's right, ya know when yer beat. Now shut up, wench," a forty-something balding man wielding not but a massive paunch answered. Grabbing her by her hair, tied back in a long ponytail, he shoved one side of her face into the forest mud when she attempted to speak again. He eyed her covetously. She was clad scantily; wearing only a low-cut burnished black leather bustier and thong that left her midriff bare, and her long slender legs were also bare, save her high leather boots and a spattering of wet mud.

"Yeah, we gotcha now, ya little..." a second man began.

He was interrupted by the sound of a galloping horse.

"Quick, someone's coming," he said.

"Nah, he sounds a ways off ta me. Now ya get her boots, I'll take off the rest..."

"No! Don't take that from me," she pleaded. "Please, anything but that."

"Sorry, miss," said the paunch-wielder, "but ya don't have anythin' else we want. 'Less ya have a few hundred crowns hidden on ya somewhere..."

She subtly shook her head, her eyes looking desperately into his.

"Thought not. Now don't ya worry yer pretty little head, this won't hurt but the slightest. In fact, I suspect that ya..."

Now the sound of shouting accompanied the hoof beats.

"We better get outta here," the other man said.

"Nonsense. Keep at it. Get that other boot off; I've already got this thing unstrapped." And indeed he had.

She gritted her teeth, and snarling as only a porcelain doll can, she said, "I. Hate. You."

"Sorry to hear that luv, but I can't say that changes anything."

As he peeled her bustier slowly, delicately off her chest, a single tear rolled down her face and she stared blankly at the sky.

Then from around the corner of the woodland trail came a fantastic shout, and he laid the bustier immediately back on her chest as an armor clad knight burst forth from the bend.

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Sir Epididymis charged with all speed, sword aloft and gleaming brilliantly like the surface of a lake in the thin strands of light that made their way through the waving treetops. "For Saint George!" he cried, slitting open the throat of a tall man in patched leather before jumping off his horse onto a shorter, but much fatter man. First Sir Epididymis hit the man on the bald spot of his head with the pommel of his sword, then he pummeled him into the mud, cut off his ears, scooped his eyes out with his plate-mailed thumbs, shoved a rusty nail up one of his nostrils, and stuffed his mouth with pine needles. To top it all off he grabbed a pine cone as well and...

"Wait!" the young woman cried.

Sir Epididymis turned. "Yes?"

"Thank you ever so much for helping me, but please show some humanity for that poor man!"

"Why? After what he was going to do to you?"

"Oh that's just a personal sentiment of mine. It isn't a crime worthy of death!"

"Personal sentiment? Are you jesting? Are the laws in this land so preposterous as that?"

"Of course it is important to me," she said, "I would hate to lose it."

"May I kill him now, then?"

"Please, good sir. I beg of you. Show some generosity. While my father gave it to me on the fifteenth anniversary of my birth, but..."

"Your father did what?"

"G-gave me t-these garments you see here," she said, now nervous. "That is why I was so reluctant to part with them.

"Oh. Right. Still not very fatherly of him, now is it?"

"I don't understand."

"That seems to be a common theme in these parts. Hold. You were reluctant to part with your garments because they were a present from your father? What about what they were going to do to you?"

"Nothing, I'm sure," she said innocently.

"Nothing? So they undressed you for no reason at all?"

"No silly," she giggled, "they wanted to take my garments for themselves, didn't you hear?"

"For themselves? What use do they have with women's wear?"

"Not for them. The one whom you still wish to hurt said he wished to gift it to his mistress."

"And you believed him?"

"Of course. It is common practice, after all."

"Common practice to maintain a mistress or to forcibly remove clothing from young women in the middle of the woods?"

"Both."

"Madness! All of you. Now where is the rest of your clothes? Put it on while I dispose of this wretch. He is still a thief and will suffer appropriately."

"The 'rest,' sir?"

"Yes, the remainder."

"I don't have any more..."

"What? Did someone else take them?" Sir Epididymis massaged his temples some more. "I'm not out of the woods yet," he sighed.

"Well of course you aren't. Are you blind, good sir?"

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"Thank you for saving my daughter from a most unfortunate fate," the tall, blond, well-built man holding a longbow greeted him.

Sir Epididymis had accompanied the young woman back to her home, which as it so happened, was in the middle of the woods.

"You are welcome."

"As are you... to stay with us any time. Now allow me to introduce myself. I am Long-Bo, leader of the Bo Clan. This..." he referred to a stockier, shorter man beside him holding a smaller bow, "Is my son, Short-Bo. To my other side here is my musical cousin, O-Bo, and unfortunately my younger brother is not with us tonight; he is an itinerant, but if you come across him in your travels--as I'm sure you will--know that he looks just like me, but with a beard, and his name is Ho-Bo."

"I see."

"Of course you have already met my daughter. My little Bim-Bo."

"And how did your clan come by this name?"

"We are all woodsmen. Hunters. Men of the bow. As was my father and my father's father, and perhaps his father as well. But not my father's father's father's father; he was born with only one arm..." Long-Bo paused momentarily. "Now the town whence came those two men you dispatched is lead by the Hat Clan. They have won the local elections six times running and are poised to do so again. They are very popular under the leadership of Mann Hat and his younger brother Mad, whom live in Mann Hat Manor just off of Main Street. His authority goes from the hills over Mann Hat Manor all the way to Mann Hat Inn on the other side of town. Do not rest there; 'tis a silly place."

"Fascinating. And I suppose you are a member of this arch-community?"

"Anarcho-syndicist commune? Yes. Are you not?"

"I am not from this land."

"Ah, I see. Let us sit around the fire and speak of the wonders of our land, then. Afterwards you shall tell us of your land and the freedom found therein."

"Very well."

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"The world is warming, the village elders tell us so!" protested Bim-Bo. "How can you not believe?"

"It is spring, of course the world is warming!" Sir Epididymis pointed out, "it does so every spring. What is there to worry about?"

"No," she insisted. "When our elders were young, it was much cooler than in these years."

"Grandmaster Shale of the Stone Masons has a theory," said Long-Bo. "He believes it is the carpenters and their great demand for wood that brings this calamity upon our times. For without forests there is less shade, and were there is less shade there is more heat."

"Of course a stone mason would blame the carpenters; they are his competitors!" Sir Epididymis objected. "Trees have been felled since Adam left the Garden, why should the earth warm only now? Damn guilds."

"Please don't speak ill of the guilds. Although we have yet to form a local woodsman guild, many of our friends are guild members."

"I apologize."

"Who is Adam, and what garden?" Bim-Bo asked.

"It isn't important," Sir Epididymis massaged his temples.

"Surely you believe each man--and woman--has a right to have a say in how they are governed?"

"Why?" Sir Epididymis scoffed. "Why cannot each man..."

"And woman."

"...And woman, simply determine their own lives?"

"What of your king then? Cannot he determine his own life?"

"Of course! And he does. What of it?"

"Then why must he rule over others?"

"Mostly he doesn't."

"Yes he does! That is what a king is. A tyrant!"

"Now you see here, young lady," Sir Epididymis said roughly, "I will not have you speak of the King of this realm in that manner."

"Help! I'm being impressed!"

"What?"

"You can't silence us."

"Why would I need to?"

"Because you are afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid we will overthrow your oppressive regime."

"Overthrow? And how do you intend to do that?"

"With force if necessary."

"With force? That's treason."

"You can try me for treason, oppressor, but you cannot stop the revolution which will bring peace to the land!"

"You intend a bloody overthrow of the legitimate government and yet say we are the oppressors? And what is more, you claim to bring peace? Madness."

"No king can be legitimate!"

"You are hysterical. We have a system of government which allows each community its own charter--laws and customs, its own festivals and traditions, none of which even the King and Parliament combined can overrule. Your community may be as free as it wishes to be, or as enslaved as it is, but do not say you will--with force--take that freedom from the rest of this land! Because by the grace of God we will stop you. We will root you out, you den of vipers... we will root you out."

"No. Only a mandate from the masses can be legitimate."

"Middle-aged women standing in booths, checking squares on parchment is no basis for a system of government! Supreme executive power derives from Divine mandate, not some farcical popular ceremony. If I went around saying I was emperor, simply because some semi-literate emotionally-invested mob with no conception of self-determination whom also have a penchant for mass thievery and turning on those they supported because conditions have worsened even though neither those they supported nor they themselves changed any policy positions--liked the way I presented myself, they'd put me away."

"You don't frighten us, English pig-dogs!" shouted Short-Bo.

"Well, what are you, then?"

"I'm French!"

"Figures. Wretched frogs always killing your best men," Sir Epididymis pulled out his sword. "I mean you no harm. However, I am leaving this forest now, and I will defend my person, my freedom, and my belongings, if necessary, so help me God."

Short-Bo went for an arrow. There was a flash and his bowstring was cut. "This is your last chance," said Sir Epididymis, "Now let me go in peace."

"Never!" yelled Long-Bo as he knotted an arrow and loosed it at the knight. It was promptly swatted away, however, with a backhand of Epididymis's sword. The knight then lunged forward and pierced lightly the patriarch's throat. Dark blood gushed forth so that Long-Bo was forced to make one of his tunic sleeves into a tournequette.

Meanwhile the knight gutted the silent O-Bo and turned to slash Short-Bo across the chest, whom had rearmed himself with a dagger. Immediately after accomplishing this, Bim-Bo jumped on his back and, removing his helmet, tried to bite an ear off.

"She-dragon!" he cried, pointing his sword upward and using both hands to ram it through her sternum. Removing it with a series of gentle twists, he wiped his sword clean of blood on the grass and brought it to bear against a newcomer: the wandering Ho-Bo.

Long-Bo had told the truth. Ho-Bo looked identical to his brother, but with a beard. A big blond beard. He also had a bow and hooded tunic, both green. So were his leotards and boots and hat verdant.

"Die!" Ho-Bo charged, pulling out arrows and firing them off rapidly as he went.

The knight deftly dodged them all. Then, seeing Ho-Bo had stopped well out of reach, and that Long and Short-Bo were recovering, he sought to end it quickly and hurled his sword at Ho-Bo. It went end over end, sparkling in the firelight, and stuck itself firmly into the broad trunk of a tree. "Missed," Ho-Bo quipped.

"I wasn't aiming for you." (At this point it is important to note that, among other things not previously mentioned in the text of this tale, Sir Epididymis had tied his horse earlier to a tree, which as it so happened, was the same tree into which his sword now stuck. Furthermore, his sword had thereby cut the rope with which his horse was tied.)

Immediately upon being freed, Sir Epididymis's trusty steed pounded Ho-Bo into the ground like a Baghdad Caliph, and then proceeded to do the same to its master's other foes. (Did we also forget to mention that the horse was rather more intelligent than the average horse? Sorry about that. Won't happen again. We swear. Really. You can trust us. Have we ever led you astray before? Other than that one time with the chicken pornography... and the other one with The Adventures of Chris Matthews, Mike Huckabee and the Clintons... and not to mention the... sorry, where were we? Oh yes.)

And so Sir Epididymis--having almost freed the land from the rotten stench of communism--proceeded on his merry way toward the County of Winterset, and from there to Grainwahl, where he was beset upon by many beautiful young women, none of whom were communists. Although one of them was a Unitarian.


And now for something completely different...

Excerpts from the trial of Charles I of England:


I would know by what power I am called hither ... I would know by what authority, I mean lawful; there are many unlawful authorities in the world; thieves and robbers by the high-ways ... Remember, I am your King, your lawful King, and what sins you bring upon your heads, and the judgement of God upon this land. Think well upon it, I say, think well upon it, before you go further from one sin to a greater ... I have a trust committed to me by God, by old and lawful descent, I will not betray it, to answer a new unlawful authority; therefore resolve me that, and you shall hear more of me.

I do stand more for the liberty of my people, than any here that come to be my pretended judges ... I do not come here as submitting to the Court. I will stand as much for the privilege of the House of Commons, rightly understood, as any man here whatsoever: I see no House of Lords here, that may constitute a Parliament ... Let me see a legal authority warranted by the Word of God, the Scriptures, or warranted by the constitutions of the Kingdom, and I will answer.

It is not a slight thing you are about. I am sworn to keep the peace, by that duty I owe to God and my country; and I will do it to the last breath of my body. And therefore ye shall do well to satisfy, first, God, and then the country, by what authority you do it. If you do it by an usurped authority, you cannot answer it; there is a God in Heaven, that will call you, and all that give you power, to account.

If it were only my own particular case, I would have satisfied myself with the protestation I made the last time I was here, against the legality of the Court, and that a King cannot be tried by any superior jurisdiction on earth: but it is not my case alone, it is the freedom and the liberty of the people of England; and do you pretend what you will, I stand more for their liberties. For if power without law, may make laws, may alter the fundamental laws of the Kingdom, I do not know what subject he is in England that can be sure of his life, or any thing that he calls his own.

And from the scaffold:

I must tell you that the liberty and freedom [of the people] consists in having of Government, those laws by which their life and their goods may be most their own. It is not for having share in Government, Sir, that is nothing pertaining to them. A subject and a sovereign are clean different things. If I would have given way to an arbitrary way, for to have all laws changed according to the Power of the Sword, I needed not to have come here, and therefore I tell you ... that I am the martyr of the people.'

Also, last words:

Always look on the bright side of life.