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Shiteface began work early today. Sun not even up. This was a chance to get in some over time and get his hands on those early bonuses. They were working on Roman Road XXVI, going basically N-S from Camelot all the way north to York.

Things were tougher than ever since Walnut was born. Sheelah had given him fifteen strong boys.He had three of them working on the crew with him and five working on their small farm.
They had lost three just the past year during the hard winter. The three boys had gone to town to get some supplies and frankly, Shiteface and Sheelah kind of forgot about them. Until the spring when he found them still standing after being frozen from a storm.

The road was basically constructed under the old Roman rules. The original crew some two hundred years prior had dug a ditch four feet deep and twenty feet wide.  After letting the ditch dry a little, which is no easy task, small rocks were used to fill the ditch within six inches of the top.  Sand was used as a further fill brought in from the eastern shores and a type of cement, mud and sand and straw was used to finish it off. The resulting mound would sink over time.  Then the crew returned to place large flattened rocks on top. In a type of mosaic pattern.

Shiteface had actually received his moniker in a rather serendipitous manner. His family had come from the north, north of Hadrian's wall.  The immigration officer who authorized his family's immigration just did not understand the language. He looked at the father and said: You are hereby named Dungheap.

Then he looked at the little boy and said: Do you know how to say shiteface?  That was kind of the way it went.

But Shiteface was a hard worker and he understood roads since his father had sold him into an apprenticeship with a road crew leader when he was but a lad of ten.  He worked hard and ended up running the business. He never the deep seated 'affection' of this owner, the type of deep seated affection his owner had for him, but Shiteface survived.

Why are you always so god damnable late Digger? And where is the rest of my crew?

Why they are down south half a league. Where we were yesterday.

But we finished, there was only that sink-hole. It is not that difficult to fill a sink-hole.

Oh Father. It was not the difficulty of putting materials into it, it was the problems with getting some things out.

Out. What in the hell are you talking about.

We have found a giant of old. Maybe Ulysses or maybe even Polyphemus. The bones are huge.

Digger led his father down the road and lying beside it were the biggest bones he had ever seen.

These bones made a horse skeleton look like it belonged to a small dog. The thigh bone, and Shiteface knew damn well what a thigh bone was since he had his own butchery that not only fed his family but his crew.

Holy Cow.

And laying just twenty feet away was the biggest weirdest head he had ever seen As big as the biggest man he had ever seen. WITH ONE EYE. My god , this is the cyclops. I had no idea that Polyphemus had tusks.  All Shiteface could think was: How do I make money on this?

We shall load her on a cart. Make that two carts. I have an excuse to go to Camelot to pick up new carts. So we need three men to come with me. We will pick up a couple peasants once we are down there. Digger, you are in charge as usual. Do not fuk this up? Comprende?

Yes, Digger responded to his father even though he was not quite sure what comprende meant.

All the bones were loaded onto two carts and the journey began to Camelot.

Meanwhile up at Hadrian's Wall

Our three boys and their steeds made the Royal Camp after a few days on the road. 

Oh good. Beer wonderful beer. Glorious beer. Quipped Senor Eduardo.

What, we are in a Shavian Play? Responded Sir Palidan.

What are they talking about? Asked Gawain.

Oh the Moor and that horse have a strange relationship. I mean, the Moor likes girls and everything. Say, you do not happen to know what Shavian means do you?

Gawain shook his head to Sir Moshe's question. The three horsemen dismounted. Shook off some dust. Tied their mounts except for Eduardo of course and headed for the pavilions.

As the knights entered the great Pavilion Bar, the bartender yelled out: Gawain you horse's arse.Get kicked out of the nearest inn again for ugliness.

Gawain smiled. You old fart. Gentlemen this is Gorgon from Sorgon. He will be our host for the night. Gorgon this is the eminent Sir Palidan and the powerful Sir Moshe.

Doesn't look so powerful to me Gawain. But what would you all like in the way of refreshments.

I need a bucket of ale for the three of us with three glasses and a half a bucket for one of our horses.

Oh one of those huh. Who is the sucker for horses?  Don't tell me. It's the Jew. You Jews are suckers for the four legged ones. But where would we be without our friends.

The three just shook their heads received their ale and went to the table nearest the bar.  Moshe said: I'll take care of it Sir Palidan. Actually I kind of like the guy. Senor is a good one to travel with.  The other two laughed as Sir Moshe headed for horses.

The stable boys had already taken care of the two other steeds and Eduardo was just pacing back and forth and gave out a hardy whinny when he saw Sir Moshe with the bucket.

Senor Eduardo, can you relate to me the first time you realized that you could talk, that you could reason with us humans?

Well, as long as you brought my bucket of ale. I was only a few weeks old and I attempted to speak with my mother, and it was nay, nay, nay all day nay. She was a real naysayer.

You are just funnin with me are you not Senor Eduardo?

How about a nice chat tomorrow after we slay a couple of picts?

With that Sir Moshe smiled and set the pail next to the steed.

Meanwhile, inside the Pavilion Bar the entertainment session of the evening had just begun:

Two men with lyres began to strum and a blond headed man holding a mike began to sing as the others sang back up:


Lonely days, lonely knights
Where would I be without my flagon
Lonely days, lonely knights
Where would I be without my flagon

I was on a quest, as a knight
I went to battle with the dragon
Try as I will, try as I might
Havin' trouble with the dragon

Blowin' Fire and blowin' smoke,
I gotta slay this here dragon
Between the eyes I hit my stroke
And that's the end of this here dragon

Now I'm a lonely thirsty knight
Gonna need a great big flagon
Fill her up, fill her right
I'm gonna empty this here flagon



Gawain turned to the Moor and asked: What is that thing that blonde has in his hand?

I really do not know, Sir Palidan responded. But you have to admit it makes him look cool.

Yes. I guess it does. But what is cool?

Ah, we all have to ask ourselves that from time to time, do we not?

Just then a huge man staggered up to our heroes' table.  What doest we have here? Why a trio of rats, methinks. Why look a man whose forbears killed my Savior. And look a dirty and dark monster who should be playing with the monkeys in Africa.  With that two other huge men joined our racist friend in his wonderful introduction.

The three new arrivals drew their swords as if on cue, as if the entire scene had been planned.  Of course I am the one who planned the entire scene even though I am not that good at planning but that is of no account. And you should not take anything I do of account anyway, but that is a discussion for another day.

Gawain turned to his friends: Dost thou wish me to handle this entire matter. I really would hate for you to have to get up and exert yourselves. For trouble yourself not.

The Moor turned to Gawain and said: Oh, my friend Gawain would take all the credit and written up once again as the hero.  Methinks we should all get some credit.

With that Sir Moshe took the now empty paid and smashed the philosopher in the shins. At the same time Sir Palidan took the hilt of his sword, which by now he was holding under the table, and hit the second animal in the gut sending him to the ground. Gawain, who had put his gauntlet back on, simply smashed the third right in the jaw, sending the poor buggard across the room.

Gorgo wandered over to the table. No deaths tonight gentle knights. And with that Gorgo snapped his fingers and three monsters from his bar came over and picked up the bodies and 'escorted them out of the pavilion.

I am truly sorry for the inconvenience.  Three real heroes come to my place of business and attacked thus...tsk tsk tsk. Micalobe, bring these fine soldiers a bucket of our finest ale, on the tent.

It is really not a get together unless there is an exhibition of some sort, doest thou not think? Asked Gawain.

Sir Moshe raised his flagon:  Here's to a fine night for three fine knights.

All for one and one for all.