Well, I asked for them, and I got them.
This morning the computer was working at a speed roughly akin to that of an arthritic octogenarian walking uphill in the teeth of a hurricane, and in the afternoon we had this terrific thunderstorm with the power flickering on and off, so finally I had to turn it off, and now I’ll spend the evening trying to catch up on the things I should have been doing earlier.
All of which means I’m going to post another story from my back catalogue, because if I have to put up with crap then so are the rest of you.
This was published somewhere or other, but I can’t recall where (might have been Flickers ‘n’ Frames magazine):-
‘What will generations to come tell of us and our deeds?’ the King had once enquired of his court.
It was a rhetorical question spoken in an idle moment, but Merlin was not one to let such a challenge go unanswered. A few days later the wizard presented his sovereign with a leather-bound volume procured from the future through the use of his sorcerous art.
Arthur thanked the magician for his gift, but when Merlin had departed he hid the book in a secret place. The title emblazoned on its cover disturbed him greatly. Arthur had no wish to know the circumstances of his death.
The King could deny Lancelot nothing though. When his favourite determined to seek the Holy Grail and wished to know if he would succeed in his quest Arthur fetched “Le Mort d’Arthur” from its hiding place and the two men read it together, puzzling over the often unfamiliar script.
The King soon despaired of finding any great truth in the pages of “Le Mort d’Arthur”. The book was obviously a work of fiction, a tapestry woven from strands of deceit and fanciful invention, bearing little relation to the reality behind its words. As early evening darkened into night they laughed at the ridiculous story of the sword in the stone and mocked the preposterous idea of a round table with all the knights held in equal esteem, even that notorious bawd Galahad whom the book depicted in saintly hue.
‘It seems’, said Lancelot, who had read on long after his comrade-in-arms had grown weary and turned his attention to other matters, ‘that you and I are to fall out over Guinevere.’
‘Let me see’, said Arthur, his interest piqued by this peculiar remark.
He read the passage Lancelot pointed out to him and laughed aloud.
‘Guinevere, a great beauty! That fat sow! I only married the hag for her father’s land. No chance of me fighting you for Guinevere’s love.’
Arthur leaned over and kissed his favourite on the lips. Inside his breeches the mighty weapon Lancelot had dubbed Excalibur in a moment of passion began to stir.