APAT Brighton: Saturday, 21st January 2012
“Good reader, my most humble apologies for the delay in completing my tale but the goode Sir Paulie was in his cups last night, celebrating the anniversary of his nativity, thus I was unable to comprehend his words due to the unfortunate slurring.”
At the cock’s crow on the Saturday, our hero didst open a bleary eye fully expecting to have suffered the indignities of a sojourn from the frolicking ursine that had been his nemesis on an overabundance of occasions.
Eyeing his sleeping-chamber it became apparent that he had, fortuitously, escaped such a fate. There appeared to have been no disturbance of his vestments, his head was clear (as much as it ever is) and there was no disturbing piquancy in his mouth.
This boded well for the day’s enterprise. The innkeeper had provided simple refreshments in his quarters and Sir Paulie drank his fill whilst reading the epistles which had been delivered to his desk, by dint of various enchanted devices and message birds, during the night.
There was adequate time to take his ease before the joust which was not scheduled to commence until somewhat after noon. Further refreshments were taken on the balcony overlooking the southern shores but the elements were somewhat inclement and thus Paulie retreated, once more, indoors.
It had been some hours since our adventurer had partaken of a repast and thus he engaged a coachman to transport him to the Meeting Place at a quarter of the noon hour. Arriving in good time, our hero, as is his wont, immediately made haste in establishing residence in the nearest inn which, not by chance, was also one owned by the clan of the Weathered Spoon. This tavern was of the name “The West Quay” but the furnishings were not as accommodating to our hero’s mighty frame being somewhat taller and narrower than those with which he was comfortable.
Nevertheless, the proximity of the establishment to the Meeting Place was of paramount importance and so Paulie persevered and ordered a repast and ale from a tavern wench and then, somehow, ensconced his self on a high stool with his feet a-dangling.
It was upon this precarious perch that Paulie took his fill of grilled pig and seared potatoes along with a brace of tankards of amber ale. Others of his company were somewhat late in arising and thus his broken fast was taken alone.
At an hour past noon, Paulie descended from his eyrie and trekked to the Meeting Place itself. There were no guards in sable uniform to bar his way and thus he came upon the Grand Vizier, Lord Richard of Prew, making preparations for the arrival of no lesser person than the Emperor himself and organising the multitude of heralds and town criers who wouldst spread word of the victories and defeats that would, perforce, take place during the joust.
In the fullness of time, the Emperor graced the pair with his presence and was warmly received by all of his subjects in attendance.
Truly, it must be said, that the Emperor was beloved by his people…all hail His Imperial Highness!
It had been whispered that the Emperor was of a mind to hold yet another series of jousts and other competitions during the sixth year of his reign and he was quizzed by Paulie and Lord Richard on this very subject.
“I cannot yet advise you on this.” he replied, “There is a great assemblage of traders in the coming days and although I have had conclave with many of them I have not yet decided how much to tax them in order that I may fill the coffers of my treasury.
I wouldst not wish to tax my subjects to hold these jousts as I am well known for being a beneficent monarch holding these jousts free of levy to those competing.
Nevertheless, I have many decisions to make in the close future and will issue a proclamation when the time is right.”
Seeing that further enquiry would be fruitless, Paulie and Lord Richard abandoned their quest for further intelligence although this was not done without some rolling of the eyes.
And thus it was that the joust began and Sir Paulie was placed in the lists in a field of personages unknown to him. Alas and alack, although he struggled mightily, with such weapons as were given to him, he was unable to progress against his opponents. Ever they didst produce double-edged blades of high value against him.
Nonetheless, Sir Paulie was not dismayed as he was a veteran, in many ways, of such jousts and knew that his time wouldst come.
He had one particular villain in mind who was somewhat tentative when raising to strike a blow but would also yield the field of battle if the opponent saw fit to raise a hand against him.
Thus it was with great joy that when this particular varlet didst follow his usual practice that Sir Paulie was joined by two warrior maidens. Knowing that the blackguard would, of likelihood, at best only be supported by a Mace’d King, Sir Paulie seized upon the moment and raised his mailed fist to the malefactor.
Much as Sir Paulie had hoped, the wretch didst commit himself fully to the fray, both combatants didst declare themselves and the game was afoot. For the brigand his joust wouldst be finished if he lost the battle but Sir Paulie would, although sorely wounded, undoubtedly survive.
The battle lines were drawn and the various strategies had come to fruition. Indeed, the villain had the expected Mace’d King and thus Sir Paulie was favoured in the match. However, it is oft said that the gods laugh at those who doth make plans and send the spriggan ‘Murphy’ to test the souls of the valiant.
At the turn of the tide, the villain called support from the King of another land and the warrior maidens fell under their overwhelming strength.
Sir Paulie reeled from the blow and retired from the field for a respite and to disseminate the news to the Grand Vizier and, it must be said, all those who wouldst lend an ear.
Refreshing his self with another tankard, the fray was once again sought, although Sir Paulie had only, mayhap, one third of his original strength.
It was, conceivably, only a few minutes into the continued melee that Sir Paulie was joined by two Monarchs of his own. Comfortable that, with this significant support, he would be able to regain his position of honour in the field, he didst raise his standard and entered the field of battle.
Sir Paulie was pleased mightily that a rogue had the temerity to raise their banner higher than his. With overweening confidence, Sir Paulie strode onto the amphitheatre and committed every ounce of his strength to the struggle.
His opponent didst agree to take the field and didst bring his own warrior maidens to the battle. Unquestionably, these maidens could not withstand the strength of the monarchs who had so prevailed against in Sir Paulie’s previous encounter described but a few moments ago.
Lamentably, the villain was reinforced at the earliest juncture by a third maiden and, as it has ever been, the weight of their numbers overshadowed our hero.
Resoundingly beaten, but with good grace, Sir Paulie congratulated the villain on his remarkable good fortune and retired from the field, sprinkling half gold pieces in his wake.
Good reader, our story is almost told. Sir Paulie drowned his sorrows with tankards of ale but his foul mood made him unfit company for those he held closest who were still enjoying their continued participation in the joust.
Famished, Sir Paulie engaged a coach to take him back to his vicinity of his lodgings and feasted at a local eating house specialising in viands from the far shores of Cathay.
Satiated, he retired to his accommodations to consider his ill fortune and to make plans for his annual pilgrimage to the jouster’s holy city, that Sodom and Gomorrah of the age, the City of The Fields, in the far western reaches of the Empire.
“My friends be assured that I there will be many other tales of Sir Paulie but, for now, your chronicler is done.”
