Sunday, October 03, 2010

Damsels & Sorcery

I follow the path the girl had taken. I assume it will take me to Camelot and judging by the increased traffic in these woods, I am probably correct.

I hear a young woman screaming. In the distance, I see the source of the scream, a small group of people and I hasten my horse towards the screams. I see a group of men surrounding a young girl. The girl is in the prime of her youth, probably just turned 15 or so, and very attractive, something evidenced even in her dishevelled state. She's on the tall side, 5'10 or so, long brown hair, attractive features and that lanky quality of someone young and not yet familiar with their own growing body. Her clothing is partially torn and it becomes obvious these men are intent and engaged in assaulting her.

I ride right into the crowd of men letting my horse knock down and partially trample the nearest ones underfoot. New screams are added to the girl's. Before the men realize what is happening they are scattering suddenly in all directions. One of them shouts as he flees,"Run..tis the dreaded Dark Knight!".

I turn to the girl.

"Jump on"

She jumps on without hesitation and I spur the horse once again. I head towards Camelot which I can see rising above the treetops in the distance. Blue spires upon white rock towers catch the sunlight and I guide my horse towards them.

"Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

"What do you intend to do with me?"

"I will take you to Camelot. You will be safe there."

"But you...I do not understand...you are the Dark Knight, why would you care about my safety? Your reputation precedes you and dozens of girls like me have met the same fate which I was to experience had you not rescued me, but at your hands."

"That is not me. Just someone who looks like me. I'm not the Dark Knight."

"Your armor is the same. And the scar upon your left cheek is exactly as described."

I lift my hand and feel my cheek. A scar runs across it from below my eye and meets the corner of my mouth.

"I can't explain. I look like him and wear his armor, but I am not him. I am not from your land, I come from much farther away. You will have to believe me. You do believe me don't you?"

"Your speech is strange. I do believeth thou. Methinks the knights in Camelot will slay you on sight should you ride through the gates."

I realize just who and what I am here. Here I am the anti-Arthur, a bad guy that rapes and abuses women and Lord knows what other crimes and is feared by all.

"If I could just speak with King Arthur, I could convince him that I am not the Dark Knight. Will you help me see him?"

She looks at me, and the initial revulsion and fear at my appearance is now abating somewhat and displaced by a recognition - a recognition growing from something she sees when she looks in my eyes and sees the real me - the 21st century me that has no desire to harm anyone.

"I will help you. Methinks you are the victim of sorcery. You have been made to look like the Dark Knight, but I have seen the Dark Knights eyes once before in a tavern - and your eyes are not his. Perhaps King Arthur's advisor the great Merlin can help you reclaim your true form."

Sorcery! Merlin! I had forgotten all about these things for some reason. Yes, in some ways this time is more accepting of unfathomable tales than the 21st century. Their minds are open to all sorts of possibilities and for this I am thankful.

No comments:

Post a Comment

All comments are moderated. Civil discourse is invited, however profanity, insults and advertising are prohibited. Thank you for your contribution. Your post will appear after a moderator has reviewed it.