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Sir Godfrey sighs in resignation as he realizes he’s been poisoned by an unseen assassin, drawing the blowgun dart from his neck and shaking his head... So it comes to this... Murdered by a dart coated with venom... B~&&#%@s! Well... Here I come, Lord Jesus... I hope I haven’t been too much of a disappointment as it were... The English knight drops dead.
Taking advantage of the flanked monk’s distracted cursing at O’Reilly, Sir Godfrey hammers the monk on the head with the flat of his longsword, knocking the thrall senseless!
Meanwhile, the gladiators and harem girls stay aboard the Alanqilis, their mounts tied to posts along the quay near where the dhow is docked. Sir Godfrey Bullfinch tries to take command in the Desert Jackals’ absence... We must remain disciplined while the Jackals are away, ladies and gentlemen! As I am of a noble English house, I will, naturally, take command until they return! I assume none of you take issue with this? Good! Let’s begin by making a rescue plan, in case they do not return within, oh, say, three days... The rest chaotically break into discussion or individual activity, ignoring Sir Godfrey completely... Anarchy! Total chaos! grumbles Sir Godfrey...
Tally Ho!! Down the rope slides Sir Godfrey. He fixes a disbelieving eye on the talking tiger and shrugs...
Oh, thank God! Thank you for freeing me... I don’t know how much longer I could take this stiff cot and the terribly spicy fodder they pass as food here... Sir Godfrey Bullfinch, at your service... I say, I don’t suppose you have anything stronger to drink than this bitter gaveh they keep expecting me to swill... Bloody buggering Arabs...
Another slave gladiator is the captured crusader knight from England, clad in full plate, with steel shield bearing a winged bull rampant, armed with heavy footman’s mace...
Sir Godfrey laughs nervously.... Of course! .... Uh, I was just about to do so.... Wench, a round of ales for those fine laborers.... Sir Godfrey pays for his drinks and a round for the displaced laborers, and hastily departs with his four men-at-arms....
No.... No, Gyles.... Let's just be the civilized gentlemen that we are....and let this matter be considered water under the bridge....
On the verge of outrage for a second, Sir Godfrey seems to suddenly realize that Paddy is not only apparently completely unafraid of his men-at-arms, but seems to be with several other well-armed strangers, including the obviously valorous Alphonse, the somehow unnerving Nacht, and others.... He opens his mouth, about to retort, and seems to think better of it.... He looks at each of his men-at-arms, who look back at him with an unspoken question in their expressions....
Seeing Wench Anabelle is trying to persuade Alphonse to return to his seat, he sneers at her.... About time, wench! Bring me a carafe of your finest red wine, and tankards of your best ale for my men, at once!
Sir Godfrey sneers at Alphonse haughtily.... These filthy peasants should have willingly given up their seats to their obvious superiors.... They rudely refused.... Now, you look like a fairly respectable gentleman, so I'll give you a chance to turn around and walk away, and bother me with your unsolicited opinions no further!
The rude and arrogant Sir Godfrey takes a seat at the newly-available table by the fireplace, along with his four rude and arrogant men-at-arms.... The former occupants of the seats taken by the newcomers stand up and dust themselves off indignantly, but don't dare to put up further resistance when the men-at-arms grip the hilts of their swords and bare a few inches of steel while glaring menacingly at the four humiliated laborers.... They slink off, grumbling under their breaths, in search of stools at the bar....
Right behind the two burly men-at-arms swaggers a self-important-looking young man with styled, curled hair, clad in the latest courtly fashions, and reeking of too much perfume, a rapier in a jeweled scabbard hanging from an equally jeweled belt, as well as a jingling coin purse.... Clear a table for us, you oafs! .... It's too crowded with filthy peasants in here for my taste, but it shall have to do.... I have heard that the other inns of London are filthier and even more crowded with scum than this one, if that can be believed....*Sniff!*.... Dreadful! What is that stench!? Is it these unwashed swine? |
