Serial Sunday: The Return of King Arthur, Act 2

By David Flin.

Act 2. The Gathering

Scene 1

A small coffee shop close to the Globe theatre. Three men sitting at a table outside, drinking coffee and watching people as they walk past. All three have their phones out and are looking through their calendars.

“When shall we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurly-burly’s done, when the battle’s lost and won?”

“For crying out loud, Bill, give it a rest. How’s Arthur doing?”

“Better than we might have expected, Geoff.”

“Better than you might have expected. I happen to believe that he is a verray parfit gentil knyght.”

Chris shook his head. “Now you’re doing it, Geoff. Still, at least Arthur’s getting on well with Marion. Pretty girl. But she’s got a temper that could bring down the topless towers of Ilium. Sorry. Force of habit. But I’m not surprised that they got together so quickly. Whoever loved that loved not at first sight?”

“That’s enough,” said Bill. “No more speaking of our jottings. The rest is silence.” He always had to have the last word. “Arthur and Marion have managed to achieve a little bit of fame, and we now need to play on that. In this time and place, one can become famous for being famous, and people listen to those with fame. I can keep them in the public eye. Chris, have you got Section S sorted, so we can cover up any glitches and make sure that their legends hold? Our legends need to have strong legends.” [1]

“Oh, we’ve got the best forgers in the country. Mind you, that document you asked for is going to be tough. It’s going to be even harder to get it into place.”

“There’s no rush,” said Bill. “It needs to be right, and it can be revealed in the fullness of time. Geoff, how’s it going with the PM?”

“Oh, she trusts me. Mainly because she doesn’t trust any politician, and I’m just a civil servant. Her political enemies want to stab her, and her political allies are right behind her, waiting to stab her in the back. She doesn’t really understand procedural documents, and she has got used to just accepting my explanations.”

“That’s excellent. What about the rest of the team?” Bill sounded quite dismissive when he mentioned the rest of the team.

“They’re still waiting. Most of them are still in transit. Look, I’ve checked the archives on some of them. I think we’re going to have some problems. They’re a headstrong bunch, and I think some of them might clash.”

“Creative tension. Excellent. Look at how well it worked with Marion and Arthur. Where are they, by the way?”

“On honeymoon.”

“Where have they gone?”

“They went camping in the Forest of Arden. If I remember, that was your stupid idea.”

“At least they’re out of the way for the time being.”

Geoff thought for a moment. “This is pretty much the last chance we have of pulling out. Once we start Phase 2, we’re committed. Point of no return. One way or another, we’ll change the world. Chris, Bill, are you in?”

Bill and Chris both nodded.

“I feel like the Oracle of Amphiaraus,” Geoff said. “We’re about to destroy an Empire, and we’ll never know what will replace it.”

“Yes, we will,” said Bill. “We’ll know when the hurly-burly’s done, when the battle’s lost and won.”

“Bill,” said Chris.

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

Scene 2.

A large amusement park, filled with children and families, bathed in spectacularly bright sunlight. Arthur and Marion are walking around, seemingly at random, amidst the jostling crowd. Several people dressed up as cartoon characters are among the crowd.

“Where do they think we are?” Arthur asked Marion. He didn’t really mind where they thought they were, just so long as they didn’t interrupt this idyll.

“The Forest of Arden. Camping. Can you believe it? They seriously thought we’d want to get back to nature for a honeymoon. Idiots. I spent quite long enough in bloody Sherwood Forest to have my fill of idyllic woodlands.”

“Well, this is not an idyllic forest.” Arthur and Marion looked around Disneyland, not quite understanding all the references, but enjoying the Los Angeles sunshine. “What do you think Bill’s up to?”

“He’s up to something that will get us into trouble. He’s a sly one,” Marion said.

Arthur snorted. “He reminds me of Myrddin. Well, here we are able to talk without fear of his overhearing us. He’s scheming, and we’re at the heart of it. I want to know what the scheme is. It may be a good one, it may not be.”

“So how are we going to find out? I think we need to get him off-balance.”

“What an astounding insight,” Arthur said dryly.

“I don’t see you coming up with any ideas.”

“I don’t see you giving me a chance to get a word in edgeways.”

“There’s no point,” Marion said. “None of your words are worth saying, so it’s to everyone’s benefit that I keep you quiet.”

“Well, it’s pretty clear that if he needs us, he will need us there in Britain.”

“Well, obviously. Let’s see. We’re famous for a film. We’re in Los Angeles. Hollywood is in Los Angeles. Let’s tell him we’ve got parts out here and see what that stirs up.”

“That’s close to lying. You know that I won’t do that, Marion. Besides, we are here to see this Disneyland. They have a ride named after me here.”

“And of course, that’s the one you want to see. I bet it’s just some brainless, adrenalin thrill ride.”

“I certainly hope so. I observe that I have a ride named after me, but I see no sign of a Maid Marion ride.”

Arthur regretted that comment when they arrived at the King Arthur Carousel, which was suitable for children under 5. Marion took great pleasure in laughing at the adrenalin-pumping merry-go-round, explaining how it was suitable for an old man.

“I am not old,” Arthur grumbled.

“Really? You were born in what, 500 or thereabouts? That makes you over 1500. That’s old by any measure.”

“I’m not old, I’m legendary. You, on the other hand, are around 700. I seem to recall that you were just the second part of Robin Hood and Maid Marion. The junior partner. Hardly the stuff of legend.”

“And I’m sick of it,” Marion said. “You had it easy. Son of a King. You were halfway there the moment that you were born. Helped out by Merlin.”

“Myrddin.”

“Whatever his name was, you had a wizard to hand, to say nothing of a bunch of heavy-duty knights backing you up. Me, I had a brainless figurehead, a big brainless lunk, a boy not old enough to shave, a fat monk, and a minstrel who fainted at the sight of blood. And I turned them into a force to be reckoned with.”

“You did well, for a fair and delicate maid.”

“You are so going to regret that.”

The two happily squabbled their way around Disneyland, like an old married couple. They were outside the Pirates of the Caribbean, when Marion started giggling. Arthur sighed and turned round and grabbed hold of the wrist of a tall, slim man with a pencil-thin moustache. The wrist was attached to a hand, which was halfway into Arthur’s pocket.

“And what exactly might you be doing, sir?” Arthur asked in a cold tone.

“Just minding my own business, my darling.” The man rolled his r’s in a strong Devonian accent. “This ride is all about me, you know.”

“Really? Then you’re not just a simple pickpocket? Once upon a time, pickpockets lost their hands. What’s your name?”

“Frank. And if you and the lovely lady are willing to listen, I’ve a tale that will warm the cockles of your heart, I have. Perhaps I could tell thee my tale over a hot pemmican roll.”

Seated at a table, Frank explained. “Thee won’t credit it, but I need to earn enough money to allow me to return to England. By arcane magics, and you will find this hard to believe, I am needed back in England, for I am England’s greatest hero, called back from beyond the grave to England in her hour of greatest need.”

“Really,” Arthur and Marion both said simultaneously, without a trace of amazement.

“That’s so. I’m Sir Francis Drake, and I have been called back. Only I seem to have arrived at this place, far from home. If you could help me, England would be grateful.”

“Francis Drake? Never heard of you,” said Marion. “Were you an outlaw or a king?”

“I was a sailor, a knight, and a warrior.”

Arthur thought. “And you were also drawn to a ride about pirates and seem to be a light-fingered rogue. Any of that, and you’ll learn to walk Dartmouth style.”

“And you are?” Francis asked.

“I am Arthur, King of all Britain, returned to Britain in her hour of greatest need. This is Marion, my wife”

“Wrong. I am not your wife. You are my husband. You do remember who married whom? I’m Marion, also returned to help England in her hour of greatest need. Do you have a steed?”

“It’s possible that I can acquire one,” Frank said cautiously.

“Then ride with us. We ride to Las Vegas.”

Scene 3.

The Strip of Las Vegas at night. Three figures stand looking at one particular casino hotel.

In Vegas, night doth shine as bright as day

Casino entraps the unwary guest

Hostage to fortune, slave to card and dice.

In Vegas, home to magic enthralling

And opulence most extreme surrounds all

And truly states the Vegas hymn that all

The things worth doing are best overdone

Arthur looked around, shaking his head in both surprise and puzzlement. “Camelot was not like this in my day, fair lady,” he said at last. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“I doubt it was like this is anyone’s day. Do you think we can claim it is ours?” Marion asked.

“Excalibur is my sword. This, this, this monstrosity is, it is unspeakable.” Arthur didn’t sound impressed.

Francis rubbed his hands. “Now this is where I teach these lubbers what piracy really is. If you could advance me a stake, I will return with the title deeds to this castle.”

Marion raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have much in the way of brains. It is people like you who give people like them all their money.”

“However,” said Arthur, “I shall give you modest stake money, Sir Francis. We shall meet at this spot in precisely two days.”

Francis left, and Marion shook her head. “Why did you do that? You’ll not see that money again.”

“That’s true. On the other hand, we’ll not see him for the next two days, and we can explore in peace and quiet. Ha! You’re silent, for a change. You have no reply,” Arthur crowed.

“It’s the shock of you having had a good idea, for once. Well, are you going to show me around your castle?”

Naturally, they argued over Marion’s name when they signed into the hotel. Arthur thought she should be using the name Pendragon. Marion signed herself in as Marion Fitzwalter.

“How will people know that you’re my wife if you don’t take my name?”

“That’s the point. I’m not your wife. You’re my husband. Why don’t you take the name of Fitzwalter?”

“Arthur Pendragon is a noble name. Arthur Fitzwalter is an abomination. Besides, Fitz is never a prefix that could apply to me.” [2]

“It was close, though, wasn’t it? You nearly would have been able to use it. And it sometimes seems apt.”

No-one paid much attention to Arthur and Marion in the casino, because Lady Luck is a demanding mistress requiring total attention, leaving none to spare for anything else. They could see Francis enjoying the gaming at one of the dice tables, throwing with enjoyment and with a great deal of noise.

Arthur and Marion watched a game of base the ball on one of the many flat crystal ball screens near a bar. From the way other people were watching, it seemed to be a close fought contest.

“Two down, nobody on, all square, bottom of the ninth,” said the voice from the crystal ball screen.

“Do you think Mr Travis is aware that the jug is about to throw a sinker?” Arthur asked. He was getting the hang of the game.

“Pitcher, not jug. He let Devon see the slider grip, so he’s trying to convince him it will be that.” Marion had also learned something about the game.

“Look at how Mr Travis is standing. He’s expecting the sinker. I think he will hit this right well.”

“Fifty bucks says you’re wrong,” said one of the other watchers of the game.

The voice on the crystal ball screen spoke again. “The wind up, and the pitch. Travis swings, connects, and that’s going, going out of the park.”

“I still do not understand this game,” Arthur said to Marion as they walked away. He pointed out that there was a Sherwood Bar.

“I’ve had enough of bloody Sherwood Forest to last a lifetime. Several lifetimes.”

They went to watch the Tournament of Kings show, which described itself as a meal like those in Camelot. Arthur winced at the food, at the lack of cutlery, and especially the jousts on the stage for the entertainment of those dining. Finally, he could take no more of the jousting, and he rose and walked on to the stage. Marion followed, determined that whatever was going to happen, she was going to be a part of it.

The compere saw them. Any half-decent compere at a place as prestigious as the Excalibur needs to be able to recognise celebrities on seeing them. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we have Robin Hood and Maid Marion, fresh from their film, on the stage.”

“Ceremony Master,” said Arthur. “I know that no ill-will is meant, but the correct form of address would be: ‘My Liege Lord, fair ladies, and honoured knights,’ or words to that effect. It is a small point, yet a needle has but a small point, and this makes it a useful tool. Mayhap I could show these men-at-arms some techniques with the blade.” Arthur borrowed a sword from one of the men-at-arms, feeling its weight, and shaking his head sadly at the poor balance.

“Marion?” the compere asked, as he failed dismally to keep control of the events on stage.

“Oh, I’ve got his back. Don’t worry, I’m the only person I’ll let hurt him.”

Ten minutes later, the stunt knights were exhausted. The compere had sent for Wayne, and while someone went to fetch him, he talked with Arthur and Marion.

“Is there any word on your next project?” he asked them.

“Oh, yes,” said Marion. “With Prince John looking after England, the country is in a mess. So, we’re going to oust him from the throne, and rule England in the name of the ordinary people until such time as King Richard returns from the Holy Land.

“Not yet,” said Arthur. “We have a honeymoon to finish first.”

Marion looked at Arthur. “You think that a honeymoon is just something to get through, is it, before starting the job of saving the realm?”

“At least I hadn’t forgotten about the honeymoon.”

Fortunately for the compere, Wayne appeared, resplendent in full armour. Unfortunately for the compere, Wayne didn’t act as expected.

Wayne bowed to one knee and held the hilt of his sword towards Arthur. “My liege lord and King.”

“Gawain, what the hell are you doing here?”

“It was my fate to return from beyond death to Britain in its hour of greatest need. My fair damsel,” he said to Marion, “my sword is ever in thy service, for I have been specially charged, above all others, to protect ladies and maidens. I am Sir Gawain, son of King Lot of Orkney and Queen Morgawse of Lothian, knight of the Round Table, and defender of ladies and damsels.”

“I’m Marion. Arthur’s my husband, and if you think I need protection, you’ve got a rude awakening coming up.”

“We’re heading back to Britain,” said Arthur. “Coming? We need to go first to Boston to see a game of basket the ball.”

Scene 4.

Bill’s flat, early evening.

“What do you mean, they’re not in the Forest of Arden?” Bill was incandescent. “Where are they? Where have they got to? Why didn’t you keep track of them?” Bill spattered out a series of questions without giving Chris chance to answer. Eventually, he paused for breath.

Chris was very apologetic. “They needed passports for all their documentation and stuff. Once you’ve got a passport, all the other documents use that as a check, so we forged passports for them. And, well, they used them. They sort of left the country.”

“And no-one spotted Arthur King and Marion King at passport control? No flags? What sort of a secret service do you run?”

“We made sure everyone kept an eye out for those names. It’s just that it seems Arthur persuaded the forger to use different names, so we didn’t spot them.”

“We’re trying to use a bit of subtlety here. What names did they use?” Bill tried to keep his temper. He wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“Marion Fitzwalter. Marion refused to take Arthur’s name on marriage and said that it would be too complicated to change it should the need arise.”

“And Arthur’s gone as Arthur Fitzwalter?”

“Not exactly. He’s using the name Arthur Pendragon.” Chris mumbled the last two words.

“Speak up. What name is he using?” Bill was getting increasingly annoyed.

“Arthur Pendragon,” Chris said loudly.

Bill lost it. “Oh, that’s wonderful. Here we are, trying to conduct a discrete, subtle coup d’état, and the central patsy as much as announces the fact. Wonderful. What did he put down as his occupation? Once and Future King of Britain?”

“Oh, no. We caught that one in time. He put down Retired.”

“Retired? At what, 35?”

“Technically, he’s about 1500. Marion asked how much unpaid old age pension they were entitled to. Luckily, it’s only payable to the living; they’re both technically dead, and there’s a lot of doubt if they ever existed in the first place, so we’re OK there.”

“Why didn’t they put actor down as their profession? It’s what they’re being paid for.”

“You’re not going to like this, Bill.”

“Whatever makes you think that?” Bill was sure he wasn’t going to like whatever came next.

“Arthur said that if all the world’s a stage, then logically, the stage is all the world, which means that everyone is technically an actor, so putting actor as a profession would be kind of redundant.”

“They used one of my quotes against me? I’m going to kill them.” Bill voice rose to a squeak.

“Technically, they’re already dead. I think. It’s a bit complicated. There’s not a lot of legal precedent on people coming back to life after being dead for a thousand years.” Chris quite enjoyed seeing Bill get agitated.

Bill slowly pulled himself together. “OK. So where did they go?”

“They flew out to Los Angeles.”

Bill knew that there was just one thing in Los Angeles. “Contact the studios in Hollywood. Find out if any of them have offered them contracts. Find them and get them back.”

Chris had to pause and work out what each ‘them’ was referring to. “OK,” he said at last. “Oh, and Geoff said that he was on track.”

Scene 5.

A basketball court, just after a training session. Arthur is talking to a tall, tattooed man who had been training with the Boston Celtics. The man is clearly a believer in body art, because his arms and body are covered with intricate, swirling blue tattoos. To one side, Marion is talking with Dame Ragnall, Gawaine’s wife.

Marion wasn’t sure where Francis or Gawain were, but she suspected that it involved seeking out strange new adventures and getting into trouble. The usual. Ragnall, Gawain’s wife, confused Marion. She was pleasant and nice, but not exactly hero material. Stunningly beautiful, of course, but that was a given with this group. Heroes were either stunningly attractive, or hideously ugly. It’s one of the rules.

There was no tactful way to ask this. Then again, Marion wasn’t noted for her tact. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be, well, dead. There’s no myth about you returning in England’s time of need.”

Ragnall was untroubled. “I am here because my husband is here. When we married, we swore an Oath to stay with each other, and we both neglected to end the Oath with death parting us. When he died, I died. And if he returns from the grave to serve Britain in its time of need, then I shall be with him.” She spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, as though it was no big deal.

“But you’re not actually a hero of legend.” Marion felt she had to get that point clear.

Ragnall nodded, unflustered. “That is true. Gawain is the hero. When it comes to the slaying of dragons, or riddling with a Green Knight, or saving damsels, then he is the master. I run the castle, maintain its defences, host feasts, ensure that the servants and men-at-arms are paid and fed and trained and disciplined, see to the livestock and steeds, maintain intelligence about our neighbours, and ensure that we have all that we need. I deal with all matters concerning money and trade, and the health and well-being of all within the castle.”

Marion processed this. “So, that means you’re a housewife then.”

“We used the term seneschal.”

“Not really my style,” said Marion, with a slight shrug.

“No. Arthur needs someone who will stand up to him and tell him when he is wrong, and who will keep him challenged. He doesn’t need a simpering, submissive ninny like Gwen.”

“You knew Guinevere?” It was a topic that Marion had been avoiding. She was wary about finding out about Arthur’s first wife.

“I knew her and despised her.” Ragnall was unexpectedly forthright.

“I thought she was beautiful and popular.”

“Beautiful, yes. Popular? That’s another matter. I suppose you’re curious about Gwen. Only natural. Arthur married Gwen to get the Round Table and the security of an alliance while his realm was young and vulnerable, and for no other reason. She was a simpering ninny who wouldn’t say boo to a goose, and she was a wet lettuce, and left Arthur much frustrated. Arthur, like my Gawaine, takes an Oath as a serious matter. Gwen, not so much. Honestly, you could set your calendar by her being abducted by some knight or other. At least, Arthur thought that they were abductions. I’m not so convinced. I think the lass just liked being abducted. Let’s see. She was abducted by Lance, of course. There was Mordred, Melwas from the Summer Country, Yder from France, Meleagant, there were the brothers Gotegrim and Gasozein, Valerin of the Tangled Wood. There was the Moor Midir, Mordred again. [3] And maybe a dozen more I can’t remember the names of. We used to say: “Oh, look, it’s the 23rd. Time for Gwen to be abducted again.” And we’d look out, and there she’d be. I think she just liked being tied up and slung across a horse and ridden off into the knight.”

“So how did you meet Gawain?” Marion was rather pleased to hear this about Guinevere, but she wanted to make sure Ragnall knew that Arthur was off-limits.

“That was all Arthur’s fault. And my brother’s. And a jealous witch. The witch had cursed me to look like a hag, and the curse would only be broken when I married a knight. Anyway, Arthur was hunting on my brother’s lands, without so much as a by-your-leave. Arthur was alone, and my brother challenged him, without bothering to find out who Arthur was. They argued for a bit, and then my brother found out who he was arguing with. Naturally, he couldn’t back down, so he set Arthur the challenge of returning in a year with the answer to a riddle. At least he had managed to work out that getting into a fight with Arthur wasn’t a great idea. He made the riddle as simple as possible. What is it that women most desire?”

“To –” Marion started to say.

“I know. You know. Every woman knows. Arthur didn’t. I told Arthur that I knew the answer, but that it would come at a price. Naturally, Arthur asked his knights if they knew, and they said things like money and status and servants and beauty and husbands and nice dresses and jewels. The knights were pretty rude to me, because I was just a hag. Not Gawain. He was always courteous and kind to me, and he made sure that I was always well treated. I fell for him, big time.

“Arthur asked the women of the Court, and they told him what they thought he wanted to hear. The love of a good knight, honour, peace with God, all kinds of things. That’s why Arthur needs you. You’ll always tell him what you think, not what he wants to hear.

“The year was up, and he went back with Gawain and myself. Arthur still didn’t have the answer, so he agreed to pay me whatever price I asked if I gave him the answer. I said I wanted to marry Gawain. Gawain agreed, because it was his duty to serve Arthur, and Arthur had promised. So, I gave Arthur the answer.”

“To make our own decisions,” said Marion.

“Of course. To cut a long story short, Gawain and I were married, and although I was still a hag, he treated me in every way a husband should treat a wife. The spell was broken, and I was beautiful again. Of course, I told him that it was only half broken, and that for half the day, I would be fair, and for half the day, foul. I told him that he could choose whether I was fair or foul by day or night. I think I wanted to see how much he had learned. The tales say that he thought whether he wanted a trophy he could display to other knights during the day, and a hag in the marriage bed, or the other way round. The tales lie. My Gawain didn’t hesitate. Straight away, he said: “Your body, your choice.” Since then, we have been together. The moment he died, my heart stopped. Two bodies, one heart. He is the other half of me.”

Arthur came across, with the tattooed man. “This is Caradoc ap Bran, of whom it is said that – ”

“He will return to Britain in its hour of greatest need. We guessed,” said Marion. “We’re going to need a big Round Table.”

“We need to return home. Bill is going to be worrying.”

“After all,” said Caradoc, looking at his blue tattoos, “all woad leads to home.”

Scene 6.

Backstage at the Globe theatre, in a rather crowded dressing room. Despite the vast number of costumes and limited space, Geoff and four others are awaiting Bill’s arrival. The four are three men, two of whom have the look of warriors, the other a scholar, while the woman wears a cloak of feathers.

Geoff was pleased with his work. It hadn’t been easy, and he was no Sherlock. Chris would have been better suited to this work, but Bill said that there were several reasons why Geoff had to do it. None of the reasons made sense to him, but he’d got on with the job.

He had gone to Canterbury and had found the four heroes. Three of them seemed a bit confused and lost, and one was praying in the cathedral, oblivious to anything else. Not bad work for a civil servant, Geoff thought, smugly. Bill arrived and slumped into the only seat.

“Ah, Bill, meet my four pilgrims. I found them at Canterbury, and there is a tale attached to how I found each of them.”

“It boots not how you found them, merely that they are here.” Bill didn’t want to let Geoff start spinning his tales.

Geoff was disappointed that he didn’t get to tell his tales. Still, he could take satisfaction in having done a good job. “Meet my four heroes, Harold, Hereward, Cuthbert, and Geraldine. Harold was a king and a warrior, and died defending England when it was invaded. It was said that he will return again in England’s hour of greatest need. Hereward, a warrior who defended England when it was under foreign rule, and it was said – ”

“Yes, we know. It was said of all of them, or else they wouldn’t be here.” Bill tried to sound dismissive.

Geoff tried to gain the upper hand. “That’s not quite true of Cuthbert. He was a saint, and the tales say that he will never leave England. Unfortunately, he doesn’t speak English.”

Bill raised an eyebrow.

“He’s a Geordie,” Geoff explained.

“Paise be wi’yee, pet. These twa be looped, an’ th’ lassie ganged a fair. Ist netty?” [4] said Cuthbert.

Why couldn’t it have been Hotspur? Bill could understand Hotspur.

“And the lady is Geraldine of Ulster. The tales say that she will return to help Ulster. I’ve made the arrangements for Arthur and Marion to fly back.”

“They’ll be flying on a plane?” Bill had learned that with heroes of legend, this was the sort of question that you sometimes had to ask. You could never be too careful.

“By plane,” Geoff confirmed. “First class. Apparently, they enjoyed Las Vegas.”

“I thought they had gone to Los Angeles.”

“They had. Then they went to Las Vegas, then Boston. They said that these places are ripe for plunder.”

“That doesn’t sound like Arthur. Or Marion, really.” Bill knew what speech patterns people tended to have, and this wasn’t either of them.

“It’s not. They ran into Frank.”

“Frank?” Bill lost track of heroes of legend. Especially those he hadn’t written about.

“Francis Drake. That’s the thing. They bumped into a few more heroes. We’ve got a full set now. Well, as many as we’re going to need. Caradoc said that he hopes that there will be a lot of sex and violence involved in the Geas. He did say he didn’t want both at the same time. He doesn’t like to get confused.”

“Has he read any of my scripts? Who have we got on the team?”

Geoff consulted a list. Bill tutted over this. Geoff couldn’t manage without his lists. It was only to be expected. He had arranged jousts for knights, and you need lists for the jousting. Geoff checked his lists again. “We’ve got King Arthur, Maid Marion. Sir Gawain and his wife. That’s a package deal, a free Dame Ragnall with every Sir Gawain.”

Bill glared at Geoff. “Don’t try to tell jokes, Geoff.”

Geoff carried on. “Francis Drake. Caradoc ap Bran. Harold Godwinson, and Hereward the Wake. Geraldine FitzGerald of Ulster. By legend she’s a shape-changing witch. I know what you think about witches. You’ve gone on often enough about how they ruined that play, and how James was an idiot, but I’d suggest that you don’t upset her, or you’ll end up as a bird and eating worms.” Geoff shuddered at the memory.

“I think we need a film first, to bring them together. Get them familiar with each other and bring them to the attention of the public.” Bill seemed to think that this was a good idea.

“Are you sure about that?” Geoff asked. “Arthur and Gawain fought against the Saxons. Harold and Hereward are Saxons. Caradoc fought against the Romans, and Arthur’s probably Romano-British, if he’s anything. Drake’s a philandering pirate, and Cuthbert’s a saint. Marion and Hereward were outlaws, and Geraldine’s fanatical about the rule of law. Are you absolutely sure that it’s a good idea for them to get to know each other?”

Unfortunately, Bill was in full flow.

“One film to lure them all.

“One film of anguish.

“One film to tame them all,

“And then the country vanquish.”

“Bill, you’re stealing lines again.”

“It’s not plagiarism when I do it. But I think you’ve got a point.”

“Happier through ignorance than knowledge, eh Bill?”

“Stop plagiarising my lines.”

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[1] “Legend” is a Secret Service term for the background story that an undercover operative uses. By now, you’ve probably worked out that these three are William Shakespeare, Geoffrey Chaucer, and Christopher Marlowe; as well as being a writer, Marlowe also worked for the Elizabethan Secret Service, while Geoffrey Chaucer was an advisor to both Edward III and Richard II.

[2] Fitz was a prefix to a name that indicated the person was the illegitimate son of a King or powerful noble.

[3] Pretty much as recorded in Malory’s tales of King Arthur.

[4] “Peace be with you. These two gentlemen are tired, and the lady has travelled a long way. Would there be any food, perhaps?”

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David Flin has written & edited a large number of alternate history books and all-ages novels, and edited Comedy Throughout the (P)Ages and How To Write Alternate History.