Sir Moshe arose with his normal aches and pains. He was to make an appointment at the Room of the Roundish Table where there was to be a discussion of the border issues up north at Hadrian's Wall and the problems in the Southeast with the Angles.

He appeared slight in build and all of five and a half feet, but he always surprised the crowd at the tournaments because he had a wiry strength. His grandfather had been Badegamus who really was a bad king. King Badegamus had created his father on a milk maid, which actually saved all three of them from the Pox, although no one knew why at the time. It was of course because Grandmama had had the cow pox. If she only knew why the few scars on her hands and face had saved her from a crueler end. But speaking of a cruel end, having been raped by a rogue and terrible man was not so elegant.

Sir Moshe's father had been Sir Thomas, a good and true knight of the south and it was through him, a Christian, that he found himself at the Roundish Table. His mother had been Lady Gladys who was from the Holy Lands. She was a Jew, but the couple kept that hidden for years. It was when his brother Solomon became a rabbi that things became sticky.  At first Sir Moshe was banned from knighthood but when he won the Tournament of Whitsunday that King Arthur restored his knighthood and made him a full member of the Round Table.

Therefore at this time, Sir Moshe never tried to hide who he was, where he came from or who he worshiped.  Cleaning his face and torso at the window of his quarters, Sir Moshe let out a WHOOSH like he always did as the cold water woke him into stark consciousness.  He used the cleaning brush and dressed and finished his morning prayers.

Sir Moshe arrived just in time at the Room and several of the knights were present and ready to hear their Ruler's declarations of the day.  The great King arrived with Bedivere and Blaise at his side. And of course, opened with a prayer:

May my Savior and Lord Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit and God the Father bless all our benighted guests and deliver us from evil. Amen

And of course, everyone crossed themselves except for Sir Moshe. Everyone used to stare at him but they all let it go after a few years when Sir Moshe proved himself.

Today, sirs, we are confronted with some new problems in the north and in the south....

The King discussed the many issues of illegal immigration, terrorism and the import of goods that go undetected and therefore untaxed. The king noted that someday all of these problems will evaporate.

Finally the meeting ended with Gareth asking if all this means that he must give up his silk underclothes that help him with his..er..infection.

Sir Moshe was given a simple solo quest.  He is to ride quickly up to Hadrian's Wall and bring back a report to the King and Bedivere as to the status of the area with regard to those barbarian Picts and Scots and to seek if he could bring back some of that aged Scotch Whiskey.

The Jewish side of his family not only knew maps, but made them.  He was very careful in his packing for a tour. He pulled the relevant maps, wrapping them carefully in waterproof skins. He put together his clothing satchel as well as his food kit.  He was forced to make his own food in a special area of the kitchen with his own utensils. He also brought his Torah.

After packing he set off on his Arab Steed for the northern parts. The weather was fine which meant he had to make good time just in case.  And he carried a make shift compass. A magnetized piece of metal as well as a little cup which he would fill with water when he stopped.  But the Roman Roads were still maintained even though the Romans had left in 410 AD.  Sir Moshe was ready, willing and able.

Ben was his steed and he was proud of him. They had been through so much with each other. The knights would tease him for the steed's height, until they found themselves knocked on their arses during tournament time. Not that Sir Moshe liked competing in tournaments. Real battles to be fought and won. After one has been properly trained, what is the purpose of this mock war fare?

Besides, as one reaches the big XXX, it is time to begin thinking about one's health. He remembered seeing Lancelot hit Tristan so hard, Tristan was incapacitated for SIX MONTHS.
Besides, ten years ago, when he was hit hard, it hurt for a day or two. Now the real pain does not set in until the third day. And it takes a month before full recovery sets in.

Ben and Sir Moshe had been out on the road for about eight hours when he saw a Moor. What is a Moor doing way out here?  As he got closer he could see it was his old friend Sir Palidan. Ho Moor, what ist thou doing out where others might seeist your terrible gait?

Sir Moshe, I see you brought your favorite canine with you today. Hahahahahahahahaha!

Both dismounted and hugged and sat down for a snack in the open field. 

Still eating that pretend food?

You know, a little more pretend food on your part, and when you stood up you could see your boots. Hahahahahahahaha!!!!

They sat and ate and lied about their women folk and their exploits when lo and behold, another knight coming from the north. 

Sir Gawain, Sir Gawain welcome!!

Sir Gawain dismounted and joined the feeding frenzy and the discussions.

Sir Palidan and Sir Gawain had a lot to talk about.  Gawain had no idea why he had ended up at home and Sir Palidan had just recently remembered that he had been with Gawain and they were supposed to be going north to Hadrian. Of course, Gawain did not have a trusty steed to help remind him of what had transpired.  After their conversations, the three decided it would be best if all continued upon the path set by Sir Moshe.

Three hours later the sun was setting and they happened upon the village of Norfolk. A nice village that had been taken over by the barbarians from the north. Farther north than France.
But the invaders had more or less melded in with the local folk and all was well. They found the local inn.

Three men walk into a pub, a Christian a Moor and a Jew and....hahahahahahahahah.

I can see Eduardo is still at it.

Senor Eduardo to you Sir Moshe.

Hahahahhahaha. Yes Senor.

Oh Senor Eduardo will calm down as soon as he gets his bucket of ale for the night. Now as we discussed, Sir Moshe, you must make sure Sir Gawain and I are more temperate tonight.

Meanwhile back at the SE Quadrant:


Morose. No other word could better describe his emotional condition. Morose. Sir Dobbs has awoke just as his fever broke. He did not even care that he had been close to death. Now his face twisted by healing wounds. His jaw damaged so that he could not longer speak the proper language he had learned as a child of a well heeled family.

PURSUE ALL ANGLES

Ha!!! You hit these barbarians head on. What do they do? Split up into sixteen different directions.  They hide in their little boats off shore. Some run north. Some south. Some west.
What was needed was an immigration plan that....Don't we all deserve a government that works?

Just give me twenty thousand troops. I'll show you a plan that works. I will show you an immigration policy that works.

Otherwise, what the hell. Lets just all go home and call it Angleland. Angleland. We would be the laughing stock of Europe. Rome has been decimated. The colors are gone forever.  Our King gets a boar tusk up his arse and thinks he has seen God. (Blesses himself) Damn. (Blesses himself again) Just then the Field Marshall walk into Dobbs' quarters.

Fathead, they tell me you are feeling better.

I stump en gran sitior fheld scrip. (Don't call me fathead your asshat)

Fine, fine. Good to hear that you are up and around again. Dobbs we need you on the field again.You are going to have to be second in command of your troops though. It is just too damn difficult to understand what you are saying.

Gahhgoaoeng kes pzeringserty fuckering buck nut. (Fuck you and your mother too)

Good. Good. Do you think you can get out there tomorrow after a morning planning session?

Lsppdmy's' og s;dfgaajur abalalrpe;sg'g; (What the fuck.)

Good. Good. Chin up fathead. We will prevail in the end.  The Field Marshall saluted fathead.

Fathead salutes.

The next morning Sir Dobbs arrived at the planning session. The Field Marshall wanted to have a hundred cavalry going straight south and another hundred coming straight north and three hundred riding straight at the enemy.

Pqnnrotp pa;;wyetyqa;; fuslallttyyth   (Are we sure the enemy is there? Pointing to the map.)

Good point Fathead. Yes you are to lead your troops from this northern point.

/.zncnlfrg/ hbaqotyp[wojyyqerfuk'a'ir y (You dipshit. No wonder we have been down here so long with no results)

Good point again. But after this I think Colonel Colonel should do all the talking.

Having completed their seance, the officers split to get their troops to their appointed places.
   
The pain had really left Sir Dobbs. He was still angry about his new speech impediment but not so morose.  Not as long as he had the chance to do the Angles bodily harm. His troop-well really Colonel Colonel's troop-had finally reached their goal in the north. And the order was given.

The troop progressed south for about an hour when they were suddenly confronted with the Questing Beast. Now this strange creature had the head of a snake, the body of a leopard, the fanny of a lion and the feet of a stag. From its stomach raged the barking of twenty pair of hounds.   But our Questing Beast, after it was through belly aching and scaring the horses began to dance and sing:

Oh I'm the Questing Beast and that's OK
I eat all night and I scream all day
I scare the bejesus out of cavalry
And I kill the human beings

I am uglier than the worst of them
I have no friends around
They tell me I am smelly
They tell me I am strong
But no one seems to tell me
That I am all that wrong

Chorus (with the cavalry)

Oh He's the Questing Beast and that's OK
He eats all night and he screams all day
He scare's the bejesus out of cavalry
And when his belly's barking
He kills the human beings

I eat the horses and I eat the knights
But that's cause  both kinds seem to agree
With my sensitive stomach
The Angles are kind of bitter
The Romans taste smoother to me


Chorus (with the cavalry)

Oh He's the Questing Beast and that's OK
He eats all night and he screams all day
He scare's the bejesus out of cavalry
And when his belly's barking
He kills the human beings

All of a sudden the cavalry stopped singing and settled down.

Owpetopaj fuckkkektipw[r[poajg''a'';lalkjgf   Dobbs said with vigor. (No real translation)
Owpetopaj fuckkkektipw[r[poajg''a'';lalkjgf   Dobbs repeated.

Hearing these cruel words that no one but the Questing Beast could understand, the monster took off northward at a pace never to be seen in these parts again. The cavalry was saved.  And Dobbs was the first since Pelleas to frighten off the beast.

It's a miracle yelled the Colonel.  And at once all one hundred soldiers dismounted and fell to their knees to pray and to be in awe of Sir Dobbs.

Dobbs still standing looked at his troops and said : 

wpporhthpy;lzkjbkbdsbgp;[[tou;[eprpks'h;kh';aslkhpphspofopjla;pojjdgjjgijgjjgjjjdfg'ooop

(Translated: you have got to be fucking kidding me)

After that the troops had held a new found respect for Sir Dobbs and never called him fathead again. And no one ever wished to anger Sir Dobbs again!!!!!

And when he returned to base, well we will get to that later after the battle.