The Bishop and the Butterfly: Murder, Politics, and the End of the Jazz Age
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    Arthur of the Roundish Table: The Lady of the Forest

    Thatched roof on hawk house at Chirk Castle Wales



    Sir Boner began peeking out of the lair he had build himself in the woods that sad day when Sir Cheney had met his match.  It was the seventh day since that horrible event that had sent Boner into the forest.  He had had a chance to take a breath and gather his senses so to speak.

     

    Not that it was easy.  I mean mumsy normally made him dinner and he had trouble getting dressed without his senior squire. But in the forest he felt freedom. After all, he never had to change his clothes.

     

    Dinner was another problem.  His horse had run off. It seems like the entire world had abandoned him. But he found a dead grouse in the wood and he made a fire.  That was one of his biggest duties at the manor. I mean, the man kept the fire at the hearth and everything.

     

    So he ate that night and awoke confused but with a real sense of freedom, for the first time in his life. I mean Cheney was dead, he thought. No longer must I listen to that scowling bastard. His faction in the scheme of things, the New Patricians had once been in full control at Camelot. I mean King Arthur was THE MAN as they say, but the NP's had more power and were heeded with more respect than Sir Bedevere himself.

     

    Kay had been their front man. Cheney ran everything and had milked the kingdom for all it was worth. The dead knight had pocketed thousands of coins and had even sponsored the ante ante room in order to make more money off of the graft at Camelot.  Of course Kay was found out, BY THE KITCHEN HELP FOR CHRISSAKES.  (Boner blesses himself)

     

    But whatever the scowler wanted, the scowler got. Sir Cheney had 'sewn up' all of the major welding groups in the realm and was making even more monies from the Angle Wars and the Pict Wars.  And Boner had been one of the front men for this enterprise. Boner had been stuck defending the ideal of the Preventative Wars.  Making the world safe for conquerors was his main campaign slogan.  Fight the barbarians where they are right now or end up fighting them on your own turf.

     

    All these inane slogans began to fall flat among the peasantry.  Sure the peasantry had no formal say in anything. But Cheney had taken it to another level. The worse the swill the easier to kill was his mantra. Keepin' the peasants down. The peons would always be revolting, just make sure their pitchforks and shovels were not made too strong or too sharp.

     

    Not long before, one of the heralds was given the opportunity to interview Cheney. At one point, the herald posed a question:

     

    The peasants are revolting....

     

    I know that, why do you thinkest we never invite them to social events? interrupted Cheney.

     

    No, no sir, that is not my point. What I was trying to say was that it appears the peasantry is not at all pleased about their welfare, their opportunities to better themselves. They see all the wealth of the realm going to the aristocrats.

     

    Sooooooooooooooo? Responded Sir Cheney.

     

    That is not helping our cause at all, thought Boner at the time.

     

     

     

    And Cheney had been against any work on the infrastructure.  Especially the moat.  He had not only known about the bodies there but had been responsible for placing most of them there in the first place.

     

    Well after the scandals came out, the New Patricians were just out of power.  They had so little say in anything.  At the Round Table where all knights had a right to speak their minds so to speak--except Garahis of course since he had no mind to speak of or to speak from--Boner would get his five minutes per the mini hour glass and he remembered his last speech there:

     

    I -- I looked at this new economic package over lunch, right before I went to the -- the press gallery.

    And there's over a half-a-trillion dollars worth of spending. And it looks like 14 years worth of liberal peasant ideas that were stuck in the back of a cabinet somewhere. And it's not the kind of spending, in my view, that will stimulate our economy, create jobs, and, more -- even more importantly, preserve jobs that are out there today.

    I just believe that, if we're going to help Roman-Celt families and small businesses, we need to leave more money in their hands, tax less, let them make good decisions with what they can do with more of their own money to create jobs and keep jobs.

    The others would proceed as if he had said nothing of worth.  It was like he was speaking to his mother in law.

     

    Sir Boner had spent most of his days in the forest on top of a strange tree that had no top to it.  An eagle had once nested there and Boner could just stretch out after removing some of his clothing, soaking up the rays and ruminating of his past and his current ignominy. He often spent time at his manor just lying on his roof, soaking up the sun's healing powers until he had a skin that glowed. Magical really.

     

    Oh I know they say it always rains in southern Britain. And when it rains it pours. But come on. I had to tie this together somehow. Besides climes change over the centuries, do they not?

     

    Anyway as Sir Boner sunned himself in the abandoned nest above the treetops, he suddenly broke into song:


    me and all my ilk
    we're all so full of fear
    they say my fantastic tan is false,  
    that my true aims without honor
    how will I ever get over this wrong?
    since the world no longer lets me lead it
    I just feel like I don't have the means
    to rise above and beat it

    so I  keep waiting
    waiting on the world to change
    I keep on waiting
    waiting on the world to change

    My ilk and I once ruled the system
    Now I'm standing at a distance
    so I keep waiting
    waiting on the world to change
    now I have no more power
    I can no longer launch  brand new wars
    I am no can longer be at fault
    I aint blockin no doors
    The old man is dead I no longer follow his vision
    what I get is what I got
    I no longer make the false information, oh
    I no longer believe what is not

    that's why I'm waiting
    waiting on the world to change
    I keep on waiting
    waiting on the world to change

    it's not that I don't care,
    I just know that the fight wasn't fair
    so I keep on waiting
    waiting on the world to change

    and I'm still waiting
    waiting on the world to change
    I keep on waiting waiting on the world to change
    one day a new generation
    is gonna rule the population
    so I keep on waiting
    waiting on the world to change

    I keep on waiting
    waiting on the world to change


    Just then a shadow came over him and a giant bird came right for him. Startled, he stood up and began falling.  Three great branches broke his fall three different times and he hit the ground with a thud.

     

    The giant bird, once again perched upon his nest looked down and exclaimed to all who could hear:

     

    THE EAGLE HAS LANDED. HA!!! And so has the buffoon who would hijack my home. HA!!!

     

    Sir Boner lie there on the ground for some time. He was afraid to move because he had no idea what injuries he might have received.  The wind had been knocked out of him and it took him awhile just to wake up.  He saw that the sun was about to set when he first opened his eyes. Slowly he began the attempt to stand and whoa.........that fricking hurts. It was his right leg. He was sure it was broken.

     

    He began crying as he was wont to do.  Sir Cheney always made him cry. But not like this.

     

    Night came although the moon was full which enabled him to stumble around a little, keeping weight off of his injured limb.  He groaned and bumbled until he fell into a deep sleep.  A sleep caused by a fever.

     

    What evil has befallen you fair knight.

     

    Boner was suddenly aware of a voice. 

     

    Just lie here and do not move.  I am here to help you.

     

    Boner swooned back into never never land.

    The knight awoke again;  this time in a small cottage in the edge of the wood. Its thatched roof and wooden construction made it difficult to see by any passer by.  He looked around and saw the hearth with a chimney made of stone.  It was rather large, he thought as he noticed the table off to his left and a kitchen area to his right.  The sun shone through an opening in one of the walls.  It was decorated beautifully with flowers and rugs and weavings on the walls.  And the smell was wonderful!!!

     

    Oooooh, that hurts he thought as he attempted to rise.  He found himself on a bed with matting as well as blankets.  He looked up and saw the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Her hair was yellow as a sunflower in summer and it was as long as she was tall.  She was dressed in a white robe and came to his bed side with a tray full of fruit and figs.

     

    Now wait a time fair knight before thou dost undo what I have managed thus far said the maiden.

     

    Ooooh. Who art thou fair maiden?

     

    My name could not be pronounced by the likes of you fair knight.  You may address me as Lisbee. I am known around these parts as the Lady of the Forest.  And that, by the way is where you are. In the forest, some twenty miles south of Brighton. And how are you called fair knight?

     

    Well Lizzy, I ...

     

    That's Lisbee, LISBEE, got that? You are not deaf too are thee?

     

    I am sorry fair maiden..er..Lisbee. I am a tad woozy. I am known as Sir Boner of the Roundish Table. I must have fallen and lost my horse. Er...how did I get here.  How could a fair maiden as you bring me thus?

     

    We have our ways in the forest Sir Boner.  Just for the record what is your shoe size?

     

    To be continued...