Friday, September 24, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Memoirs of a Giant
I’ve been silent too long waiting for Uther Pendragon to make his feelings known on the great glowing glass. King? You’re more like a queen! And where is your son with his misplaced sense of kinship and loyalty and chivalry? You’re son…More like a daughter! Ha! You’re kingdom will be left in ruins! Rome will conquer you, you invalid! You’re “men” have made me a delicious meal…with their bones!
Arthur…You have all your nephew’s work to do. You’re father taught you well to hinder the integrity of your own blood! Those tasks were to test the might of Cuhlwch, not you! Not you’re men! He is of no worth to make my daughter his wife. He does nothing. And you’re men were slaughtered by a boar! Hundreds of your armed knights were claimed by a wild animal. I eat boars for they are tasty. You’re knights are tastier. You may in the future humiliate me by shaving my beard and placing my head on a stick, but history will echo the shame of your bloodline. May all your nightmares greet you with a smile. My hunger for blood and lust for your women exceeds the might fathomed by all men in history. I am a giant and you are just a man. A mere insect of flesh. By the way, Heor’s wife was deeelish.
A King's Lament
I wanted to speak out on the incident of Queen Guinevere's betrayal of her lawful husband Arthur with his nephew Mordred. Having experienced this heartache myself with my wife Isolde and nephew Tristan, I can sympathize with my Lord Arthur's plight, yet I beg him to forgive and not to seek revenge against those who commit such treachery for they know not what they do to themselves or to the kingdom. Instead of battling Mordred, leaving hundreds of thousands dead, great men gone too soon to their graves, Arthur should have routed out his nephew and banished him into exile, along with the Queen, ne'er to return. While in some eyes this may be seen as foolish weakness, it is the only to satisfy honor and promote the public good, for the King and his people. So I have found in my own heart.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
On Layamon's Brut
How unfairly I am displayed in this poem! Being called wicked and crass! It's not like anyone has ever bothered to listen to my side of the story. All anyone ever wants to hear about is what Arthur did, and what Arthur's next plans are to defeat me, and about how great Arthur is.
Well, Arthur is the one who decided to murder an entire village and then torch it to the ground, but somehow I end up being the evil one? I think it is a great deed that I accomplished, taking over his lands. I would have done a great job ruling those lands. I would have been a great ruler doing the same things that I would have--may have--done in Winchester. They would have received their legal rights. So long as they do what I say, of course.
But no. I get criticized for trying to protect myself. My men were more than willing to die for me, and you would have known that if you had asked me for my side of the story. Even those villagers I overtook loved me! Just ask them! Oh wait. You can't. Because Arthur killed them all!
Anyway, they let me run. Really. I can't expect you to believe me of course, because who is going to believe me over the saintly King Arthur who never does anything wrong. Except slay and burn entire villages.
But whatever. Story of my life, I suppose.
What a tale! What a tale!
It is always a pleasure to recount the days by which my King Arthur was born into the world, and rose to his throne! I, Valven, Walwain, Gawain, whichever name you wish to use, as one among his most favored knights know these stories much better than many, having spent so much time in conversation with His Majesty, and there are many things in this account that has not been included. How amused Arthur would be if some of the things I knew were to come to light.
For example, did you know that the Once and Future King was one night sleeping in his tent during one of his many campaigns against the foul Saxons when two assassins of the enemy sneaked into his camp by cover of night, slew his loyal guards with great skill in utter silence, and entered the King's tent with weapons drawn, about to slit his throat? My King heard them lift the folds of his tent and when he saw the bodies of his watchmen and the knives of the spies, he flew forward in a great rage, not stopping for a moment to draw his weapon, for it was not needed. He grabbed one man about the neck with such strength, and released such a mighty howl as to wake the entire mass of his army and his enemy's from their slumber, and with the strength that only a man who can pull the Excalibur from the stone could posses, he crushed the man's neck in two like it was a blade of grass between a giant's fingers. As his loyal soldiers, myself included woke and came rushing to the defense of our King with great shame and rage, for we let the enemy draw so close to him in our neglectful sleep, we saw Arthur holding the second assassin against the side of a wagon, while shouting: "Why do you strike your own face, Saxon? Why, cowardly Saxon spy, have you crept into my camp, and killed my guard just to strike yourself before me with your own hands?" And there was nothing that the Saxon could say, for Arthur was holding the man's wrists in his hands, and was in truth using the Saxon's own arms to pummel his face.
A great feature, Arthur had, was his faith in God to drive fear into his enemy, and as his words for the Saxon carried across the hills on the wind and into the ears of the Saxon watch, they believed Arthur to have unleashed some grand, powerful blessing from Our Lord that struck his enemies full of a desire for their own destruction, that did lead them to end their lives in his presence. And in the morning, as Arthur King marched at the head of his mighty army to confront the Saxons, those who did not flee in an all-consuming terror for the man were slaughtered by the might of Briton and Arthur and God, and in this victory Arthur grew ever closer to being the legendary and Forever King that he became.
For example, did you know that the Once and Future King was one night sleeping in his tent during one of his many campaigns against the foul Saxons when two assassins of the enemy sneaked into his camp by cover of night, slew his loyal guards with great skill in utter silence, and entered the King's tent with weapons drawn, about to slit his throat? My King heard them lift the folds of his tent and when he saw the bodies of his watchmen and the knives of the spies, he flew forward in a great rage, not stopping for a moment to draw his weapon, for it was not needed. He grabbed one man about the neck with such strength, and released such a mighty howl as to wake the entire mass of his army and his enemy's from their slumber, and with the strength that only a man who can pull the Excalibur from the stone could posses, he crushed the man's neck in two like it was a blade of grass between a giant's fingers. As his loyal soldiers, myself included woke and came rushing to the defense of our King with great shame and rage, for we let the enemy draw so close to him in our neglectful sleep, we saw Arthur holding the second assassin against the side of a wagon, while shouting: "Why do you strike your own face, Saxon? Why, cowardly Saxon spy, have you crept into my camp, and killed my guard just to strike yourself before me with your own hands?" And there was nothing that the Saxon could say, for Arthur was holding the man's wrists in his hands, and was in truth using the Saxon's own arms to pummel his face.
A great feature, Arthur had, was his faith in God to drive fear into his enemy, and as his words for the Saxon carried across the hills on the wind and into the ears of the Saxon watch, they believed Arthur to have unleashed some grand, powerful blessing from Our Lord that struck his enemies full of a desire for their own destruction, that did lead them to end their lives in his presence. And in the morning, as Arthur King marched at the head of his mighty army to confront the Saxons, those who did not flee in an all-consuming terror for the man were slaughtered by the might of Briton and Arthur and God, and in this victory Arthur grew ever closer to being the legendary and Forever King that he became.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Geoffrey's Work of "Art"
Good day noble knights and warriors, fair and beautiful ladies! Tis I, Arthur, King of the Brittons. Now many of you may be under the impression that I may not have actuallly ever existed. But I bring into play the great chronicles of Geoffrey of Monmouth in his History of the Kings of Britain, which clearly states my existance and my importance in shaping the landscape of Great Britain and Europe. Sure, there are many detractors of Geoffrey's accounts (I'm looking at you Gerald of Wales!), who believe that these great tales were fabricated. I scoff at that notion!
My many great adventures and conquests across the country were all real! How else could you explain the fact that these stories still stand the test of time some 1500 years after they occured? I mean, I slayed the giant at St Michael's Mount, c'mon now, are you going to try and tell me that giants don't exist? And some of these other tales are nearly too crazy to be simply made up by an author who lived some 500 years after everything in my life transpired.
From battling Saxons and Romans, to marrying the fair Guinevere, to creating the order of the knighthood which would eventually be known as the Roundtable, the whole chronology is covered here. Heck, even when Mordred betrays me and I am mortally wounded and borne away to Avalon to heal, is noted in Geoffrey's accounts.
So maybe his dates and time frames don't exactly pan out. And sure, it may sound a little fishy that Geoffrey claims to be translating from a much fuller source, one "ancient book in the British language", of which no copy was ever produced. By I ask you this, if it were all false, would you all be studying about me and life story? Would you all have the passion that you do to put in so much thought and effort into the great tales of me and my merry followers? And would you not be so enthralled as to join me here, in this great blog of which you are now, all part of the noble Roundtable?
My many great adventures and conquests across the country were all real! How else could you explain the fact that these stories still stand the test of time some 1500 years after they occured? I mean, I slayed the giant at St Michael's Mount, c'mon now, are you going to try and tell me that giants don't exist? And some of these other tales are nearly too crazy to be simply made up by an author who lived some 500 years after everything in my life transpired.
From battling Saxons and Romans, to marrying the fair Guinevere, to creating the order of the knighthood which would eventually be known as the Roundtable, the whole chronology is covered here. Heck, even when Mordred betrays me and I am mortally wounded and borne away to Avalon to heal, is noted in Geoffrey's accounts.
So maybe his dates and time frames don't exactly pan out. And sure, it may sound a little fishy that Geoffrey claims to be translating from a much fuller source, one "ancient book in the British language", of which no copy was ever produced. By I ask you this, if it were all false, would you all be studying about me and life story? Would you all have the passion that you do to put in so much thought and effort into the great tales of me and my merry followers? And would you not be so enthralled as to join me here, in this great blog of which you are now, all part of the noble Roundtable?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)