A Knight's Quest

Pitman came casually from the tent. The sway was gone but she was smiling.

"The King is on the march himself to Norfolk, with your father and over a hundred of the greatest Knights and Squires that you will have ever seen," she informed us.

"We will ride to meet them," I insisted, and no one moaned among my staff, having seen the ruin of those poor people.

It was decided that only Sir Foster would accompany us. The rest of the men would return to the bridge under the command of Sir Pendalton. They had 12 Kings men, and over 2 dozen staff members who could fight in a similar fashion to mine. If the Prince could not hold the bridge against a hundred, he didn't deserve to be anywhere in line for the throne!

Armies do not move as fast as their Generals would like, so we found them, as we came to the crest of a hill.

There were soldiers and horses and wagons as far as I could see!

I had cleaned up the best that I could, not having any of my Knight's fighting attire, I was still intent on fighting for my King, even if it was in a free warriors attire!

Sir Foster had his Herald in front of us, with his banner held high, announcing him as a Catanaland Knight. Many of our men would recognize the senior man, having fought with him more than once.

They let us get close to the Royal Tents, but we were stopped by a perimeter guard.

"Lootentant Moro!" I called out in a high voiced greeting.

He was shocked to see me, but recovered quickly and sent a page to the main tent.

"Sir, your father is over there, and he brought your armor with him," he pointed to my fathers tent to the east of the King's.

"We have the Sheriff of Norfolk in our wagon, and I am certain that the King will want to ask him a few questions, Lieutenant," I directed my friend.

Pitman went directly to her Master's tent, while I rode alongside the wagon, towards the King's mobile court.

Uncle Corican came out of his tent, dressed in casual camp clothing and munching on roasted pheasant or duck.

"Ah, the hero's return," he announced, then threw his food to his dogs, and would have wiped his hands on his enormous belly, but two valet's moved quickly to clean his royal hands.

I fell to one knee, and looked down, waiting for my King to summon me.

"Up, Up, my son, we are not in the court yet! Talk to me like a nephew, and forget the customs of court so I can hear everything about your mission," he proclaimed, putting an arm around me as I stood.

Just walking with the King meant that we had five or six servants around us at all times, concerned about his sneeze or a wasp near his Royal head.

I detailed our 2 days in Norfolk and all the men that we were forced to kill. I reported on the actions of Sir Foster and the guard at the north bridge that allowed our wagon to escape. I went into detail about life in Norfolk, and their lack of young women in the city. The King grunted with each detail of his mighty Northern Stronghold.

"Defender of the North!" he cried as the insult to his Kingdom was piling up before him.

"I pray that he is still alive, and his nephew too," the King declared.

A group of men, led by Lieutenant Morrow, brought the Sheriff by cart to their King.

"He has been searched for weapons Sire," Morrow reported.

The King moved to have his chat with the chief Magistrate of Norfolk City.

Morrow and a senior aid stayed close at hand.

After a brief talk, the King was satisfied with his chat.

"Bind him so that he can not take his own life," the King commanded.

"We will let the liberated mothers of Norfolk decide how to end his miserable life, and I pray that they set an example that will last a thousand years!" He roared with too much passion, as his aids rushed in with a sponge to mop his brow and sit him in a plush chair that three pages hustled from the tent.

The King insisted that every knight from a foreign land should hear the Sheriff's confession, so that all of our neighbours would know how we take care of slavers and traitors in North Cumberland!

More people were pouring into the valley to the south of Norfolk. The King had started out with a force of more than a hundred Kings men and their attendants, bringing their number to more than 500, but the rest of his Kingdom wanted to be a part of the quest.

By the time we stood before the great gate, there were more than 5000.

A force of no more than 500 manned the ramparts. With arrows sticking out of every portal, they could defend for quite some time.

Prince Jerican was guarding the northern route out of the city, but his men were hidden in the next valley, hoping that the Dukes would try to escape that way.

Trumpets boomed as the main drawbridge was dropped, and a small contingent came out to parlay.

Their Herald flew a white flag of truce.

Grand Duke Soritan rode bravely behind his Herald, looking proud, and defiant in his fighting armor.

His page helped him to dismount, then he knelt before his King.

"Sire, I pledge that I am not a part of the slaving that has plagued these lands, and if my cousin is guilty, then I will gladly sever his head for you My King!" he vowed.

The king had six of his best guards around him, but I stepped forward, remembering how I have fared against 6!

Soritan caught sight of me, in my own splendid armor, but quickly and wisely looked back to his Sire.

"I will reserve judgement on you Duke! First, do you concede the city!" he bellowed.

"Yes sire, the gate is open, and you are free to enter your Northern Keep," Duke Soritan insisted.

A contingent was sent to man the gates and disarm the forces, but they were already dropping their weapons and running to hide or escape their fate.

"Take him, and hold him and his staff in irons," the King decreed.

Soritan stood and allowed his own pages to remove his fighting armor, then the King's guard put each of them in metal yolks, such as a Mayor might put a town thief into for public humiliation.

Horses were arriving from the west, and the flags showed that it was Prince Jerican or his messengers.

Father himself rode up to his brother's tent, dismounted and hurried inside.

The King was in his camp chair, being fed dried fruit from two of his aids.

He had just finished commanding a herd of cattle to be brought to feed the masses. Then wagons of produce were added to the list.

"It seems that they were subsisting on wine and beer!" the King laughed at their folly.

"Sire, Prince Jerican acknowledged his Lord, but only bowed his head, as a royal brother should do.

"Jeri, what happened? Were you right about the coward!? He had to know!

"Yes, Sire," the Prince conceded. "He tried to sneak to the North, but not even taking command of the force, he hid himself in common clothes and tried to slide past our western flank, but I had Pitman over there, with a few friends, and they rooted him out."

The fat Duke was practically dragged into the Royal Tent-Court, crying about his misfortune and the fates and his bad luck.

"Do you have anything to say in your defense, ... cousin," then he spit to show the poison that he considered of that family link.

He hurried to blame others of course.

"It must be the Sheriff that you want," he cried. I am your humble servant, Sire" Mortack cried.

"You know that your pages and your valet's will give you up, even without torture," the Prince corrected the Duke.

The Nobleman started to cry, and he wet his pants, but he had no servants to wipe away the tears or dry his cock.

The city was searched and the dungeons were opened, with all women freed without exception. They were fed and proper clothing was found, filling rooms near the armory. Medical attention was given to them by the nurses that were there to treat fighting men. Many of them were pregnant, some very much so.

The King himself walked the hospital tent then came out to address his staff. I stood with my father and his Valet.

"These women that have been impregnated, are all to be considered New Women, regardless of age," he declared.

They will get my best goats, as all New Women who are impregnated by my representative, and I offer a Royal Wedding to any man that will marry one, but only if they choose to take him!" He commanded, and it would be so.

There were 37 maidens in a motherly way, and four would be delivered soon.

Squires and Lieutenants paraded through the tent, hoping to be acceptable to the young ladies, and sure enough it was not long before we had a wedding for the first ten, who didn't feel they needed long to know their heart's direction.

By the time the cattle and wagons of produce got to the city, the King was established in the Mayor's Mansion and celebration tents were being erected for the party.

Two of the babies had arrived, but they would not be bastards, by Royal Decree!

The wedding was interrupted while another had her water break, but the Royal Midwife and her maids, took the woman to her tent, and before long the hearty woman was seated next to her betrothed with a baby in her arms!

The King returned, and they were quickly wed. Babies crying always speeds the Priest along.

The party went well into the night, with the King dancing briefly, with every New Woman that could stand.

Pitman came and sat at my side, then father plunked his Royal ass on a stool across from me. Of course a footman ran a cushion over, for his royal arse.

"My son!" Father was beaming with pride and he could not contain it.

"Mother says that you know who your heart belongs to. Tell me it's true!"

I looked over at Pitman, and knew how he found out.

"It's a birthing maid named Jenny, Sire, and she is a New Woman, like mother knew she would be," I confirmed for my happy father.

"Does she share your love yet son?" he continued, always thinking ahead.

"I only saw her once sir, but I will find out as soon as my duty allows." I offered.

"Well your duty is complete for this year, Grand Knight," the King announced as he was helped to my humble table, with his own camp throne only a second behind his royal behind.

"You will ride in the morrow," he commanded. "With a man like you, she will probably be with child, and if her beauty is as great as I suspect, she will have many suitors," the King surmised.

I hadn't thought of that, and I jumped to my feet, thinking that I shouldn't wait for the sunrise.

"If she is the one, Coz, she will be waiting for you, even if she doesn't know why," Pitman quietly pronounced.

"Yes! Pitman the beautiful man is quite correct," our drunken Sire slurred.

I sat and Father himself filled my mug with his best wine.

"You will travel there as the champion you are son," Father counseled me. "Then, you must accept what you find."

I dreamed of Jenny again that night.

Gimpy tried to tempt me with some women that wanted to meet a Knight, but I knew he didn't need my help to gain a woman's charms, so I went to bed alone. I dreamed of our only encounter, and the image of Jenny with clenched fists both excited, and worried me. I was worried that she would hate me, and excited because she might not!

Jon packed us up, while I ate breakfast with my Father and his Valet.

King Corican had announced his findings from the Royal Inquisitor, last night, and his verdict with it.

Mortack was to be publicly stripped of his titles, his lands, his businesses, his clothes, and finely his life.

Prior to beheading, the King had offered a single punishment.

"Every mother that has lost a daughter, can slice off a piece of his cock and feed it to him," the King joyfully announced.

26 other men were beheaded that morning, but the last decree was the strangest.

"The Duke Soritan is stripped of his titles and lands. His fate will be decided by God, in a duel against no more than 10 men, that will comprise of Squires and Lieutenants," The King demands it," cried his Herald.

"...and so it shall be!" The crowd loudly finished the old chant.

The King wanted any Knight or Commander to offer the name of a Lieutenant or Squire that we felt would be successful, and it was his idea to make up his list from the 20 or so men that would be proposed.

I gave my envelope to Gimpy, to give to the King's Captain of the Guard.

The King's Herald read loudly the names as they were revealed, to the delight of the crowd. Some of their favorite stories were about these men as they rose up through the military ranks.

Then I saw my envelope, and froze.

The page read the name to the Herald, but the Herald ran to the King to whisper in his ear.

The King looked over to me, as did my Father and everyone else that I cared about.

Then the King whispered back in his Herald's ear, and they returned to reading the names, without my recommendation.

Then the King rose from his wide royal throne.

He would address the crowd, and they hushed to listen.

"My good people, I can only offer my heartfelt condolences over the loss that this man has burdened you with, often in my name," he bellowed, for all to hear. His voice was so deep and powerful.

"I will have a list made of our best nine men of the called upon rank," He bellowed.

I could see his two top Generals agreeing upon the list.

"One Knight offers this suggestion, and it comes from my brother's own son!" He trumpeted with his mighty voice.

"Sir Corzian offers his Horseman!" He roared, and the crowd went crazy, realizing how much of an insult that would be to the ex Duke.

Everyone on my staff turned to me in shock, except for Gimpy, of course.

My Father and his Valet stood and turned to me, to confirm the truth. That I would risk my best friend against a man that was twice his size and had fought many battles against real Knights and Commanders.

Gimpy would know that he couldn't throw his knives in a contest such as this. He could choose a broadsword or a battleaxe, but he wasn't skilled at all with either.

The King raised his hand and Gimpy stood, and reached under the table for a silk sack that previously had stored my stationary equipment. He quickly walked to the King, and the King invited him close with a further Royal wave.

Gimpy dropped to a knee and exchanged words with his Monarch, while extending his hands above his head with the silk sack.

A page took the package, and Gimpy rose.

"This Knight's Footman will be the first, and he says, the only man we will need," but I will not lower the bar! Gimballed Simon's, the son of a common woman, and no known father, will be first!"

The crowd was thrilled, but my friends continued to look at me with wonder.

For my part, I knew that Gimpy replaced my envelope, and though I didn't like his chances, I did knew one thing that few others knew. Mother's vision said that he would not die, unless it was for me, so he might not win, but I was certain that he would not die here.

Mortack was paraded to the rack that had been erected next to the execution block, with the citizens of Norfolk crowded on the city walls and on the tops of businesses.

Mortack was screaming and frothing from the mouth like a Demon, and maybe he was.

The gates were opened and the line of mother's went as far as you could see.

The Herald jumped to the King's stage, and showed why he was the King's Favorite Herald.

"If someone has a very very thin knife, could you bring it to the gallows?" He loudly proclaimed, to the King's and the crowd's delight.

The Royal Surgeon controlled the surgery, but today he was more of a butcher's assistant.

Old woman queued to the rack. Some crying some overjoyed to get their revenge.

The position of the cut was carefully assisted by the surgeon and the first cut was barely a bug sized tip of his penis. The piece was picked up with tongues and the woman pushed it down Mortack's throat.

His head was secured from turning with a clamp, and his mouth was kept open with a bull's nose-ring, tied firmly in place.

Mortack could not stop himself from swallowing, but eventually he pushed some of it out of his mouth.

The surgeon pushed an instrument into his mouth and pulled his tongue out, and sliced it off with a scalpel, then he cauterized it with a hot iron.

The scoundrel might have missed the rest of his meal, but a bucket of water was thrown on him.

The line continued, until there was no more cock to serve, so they started into his ball sack!

When the last mother had her revenge, Mortack was removed from the rack, plopped onto the hatchet block, and his head was swiftly removed.

The party was far from over.

A dozen pages moved in and dragged the rack and chopping block out of the arena.

Soritan was led in from a side door. He was no longer naked and clamped in a yolk.

He wore his fighting armor, and his sword and knife were handed to him in the square.

He swung the great sword, and put himself through some stretches and lunges that made the crowd murmur, while Herald and Jon looked at me with pain.

Six Squires and three Lieutenants stood as seconds for my Footman, but he had to make a grand entrance from the same door that the mother's had arrived through.

Someone sounded a trumpet and the doors opened to reveal my best friend, wearing his best, church going clothes. He had a short epee in one hand and one of his blades in the other.

Atop his head was his beautiful feather, standing straight up for the crowd to enjoy.

"These are your best men!" Soritan screamed. "I will be a free man by God's judgement," he declared.

The crowd was hushed with concern that he might be right.

The giant man stood in a defensive pose, but Gimpy was in a hurry. He ran straight at his opponent, as fast as his feet would move him. Then at the last moment Soritan swung his mighty blade through the air, at belly button height, but Gimpy dropped to his knees in a skid and came up into Soritan's groin. First with the epee he sank it deep, but the knife went in three times before he slipped between Soritan's legs.

Gimpy tumbled forward and came back up on his feet.

Soritan dropped to his knees, blood draining through his leg armor and out through the plate links in the feet.

He rolled to the ground while the crowd roared. Gimballed Simons then pushed his bloody epee through the armpit joint and into his lungs. Then he stood above him as he gurgled out blood from his mouth.

I groaned, knowing what he was going to do.

My Horseman fumbled with his pants, then pulled out his cock and urinated into Soritan's mouth.

The crowd was not sure how the King would respond, but they did not have to wait long.

King Corican the Joyous jumped to his feet, with the help of two pages, and stepped to his stage and started clapping with broad sweeps of his arms. It was an action of support for the champion, and a signal for everyone to join in!

The crowd was overcome with delight as they cheered in waves of adoration for their King, and their Horseman.

When the trumpets blasted, the crowd settled down and the Harold returned to make a final announcement.

"Our finest Horseman in the land, our champion, Gimballed Simons, will henceforth be known as the Gentleman, Master Gimballed Simons, a King's Man and Squire!"

I looked to my friend, but he stood looking down at his feather, it had been chopped cleanly in half, through the eye of the feather! I felt a very small twinge at the loss of his feather, but the nickname didn't fit anymore. He would never again be Featherby to anyone but me.

We partied until midnight. Father and Pitman found me in Mrs. McFarland's Inn, partying with her neighbours, who assured me that they would run the hotel, or sell it for the old woman if she didn't want to come back.

Father looked a little uncomfortable, but I thought it was just the crude stools that we sat on.

"Master Gimpy gave the King a gift," Pitman told me, smiling broadly. "The gift was chain link underwear," she laughed and covered her mouth like a lady.