Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming

Chapter 4

Prince Charming rode along on the pony, until at last the woods opened and he could see a field in which many tents were pitched. Strolling among them were knights in holiday armor, eating barbecue and flirting with damsels in tall pointed hats with flimsy veils who went back and forth carrying wine, mead, and other drinks. There was even a little orchestra playing a sprightly air.

"Looks like a goodly bunch over there," Charming said.

"Don't you believe it," the pony replied.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Take my word for it."

Charming knew, in the part of his mind which housed ancient wisdom, that shaggy little ponies who appeared mys­teriously in the woods could be counted on to give good advice. On the other hand, he also knew that men were not supposed to follow this advice, since if one always listened to the voice of reason, one would never do anything interesting.

"But I'm hungry," Charming responded. "And perhaps those knights know the way to the enchanted castle."

"Don't say I didn't warn you," the pony said.

Charming kicked the pony in the ribs and it ambled for­ward.

"What ho!" cried Charming as he rode into the midst of the knights.

"What ho to you!" the knights called back.

Charming rode closer. "Art thou a knight?" the foremost of them called out.

"Indeed I am."

"Then where is thy sword?"

"That's quite a story," Charming said.

"Tell it to us, then, will thee?"

"I met this sword named Excalibur," Charming said. "I thought it was a proper blade, but no sooner had we started traveling together than it opened on me a mouth such as you would not believe. And it grew passing strange, till finally I had to escape it lest it kill me."

"That's your story, is it?" a knight asked.

"That's not my story, it's what happened."

The knight made a gesture. Two knights came out of a white pavilion carrying a baby-blue satin pillow between them. Lying on this pillow was a sword. It was dented, covered with rust, and its tassels were frayed, but it was recognizably Ex­calibur.

"Is this your sword?" the knight asked.

"Yes, though that's not how it looked when last I saw it," said Charming.

Speaking in a thin shaky voice, Excalibur said, "Thanks, fellas, I believe I can stand on my own."

The sword rose off the pillow, almost fell over, then bal­anced steadily on its point. The bright jewel in its pommel looked at Charming without winking.

"It's him, all right," Excalibur said. "He's the one who abandoned me on the field of battle."

The knights turned to Charming. "The sword asserts that you abandoned it on the field of battle. Is that true?"

"It wasn't like that," Charming said. "The sword is raving."

The sword swayed, then regained its balance. "My friends," it asked, "do I look deranged? I tell you, he threw me away for no reason at all and left me to rust on the hillside."

Charming made a gesture of finger to the temple, denoting that the thing referred to was crazy.

The knights didn't seem convinced. One said to another, in a clearly audible voice, "A little weird, perhaps, but definitely not crazy."

One of the knights, a tall gray-bearded man with the eagle-eyed look and thin lips of a spokesperson, took out a sheet of ruled parchment and a stylus.

"Name?"

"Charming."

"First name?"

"Prince."

"Occupation?"

"Same as first name."

"Present assignment?"

"Mission."

"What type of mission?"

"Mythic."

"Nature of mission?"

"Awaken Napping Princess."

"By what instrumentality?"

"A kiss."

After completing their questions, the knights retired to a quiet part of the field to consider what to do next, leaving Charming trussed hand and foot with silken cord and rolled under a hedge.

It seemed to Charming that these were not the ordinary run of knights. Their line of questioning was unexpected. Their faces, bony pallidities half-hidden behind moldering iron-and-wood casques, were unprepossessing. Charming overheard them talking as they moved off:

"What'll we do with him?"

"Eat him," came a reply.

"That goes without saying. But how?"

"Fricasseed is nice."

"We just had fricasseed knight last week."

"Then let's do the pony first."

"How?"

"What about roasted with fines herbes? Did anyone see any fines herbes around here?"

Charming immediately decided (a) knights didn't speak as he had supposed they did, or (b) these fellows were not knights at all but actually demons in knights' clothing.

A general consensus was reached on the fricasseeing. But they had some difficulty getting a fire going. It had rained recently in this part of the forest and there wasn't much dry wood to be found.

Finally, one of the knights caught a baby salamander. Pil­ing moist kindling against it and rapping its nose sharply when it tried to escape, they soon had a good blaze going. Two more knights turned to the creation of the sauce, and another pair made the marinade while the rest sang.

Charming knew he was in deadly peril.