Having had a whale of a time at the jousting tournament, Tommy and I decided to spend a while longer in Medieval England. After a few days heading south Tommy started to complain of an annoying, but not unpleasant tasting, greasy stain on his fur.
I had warned Tommy previously that butter, in the absence of a Tupperware container, wouldn’t travel well in warm weather, but after failing to heed my advice, his insistence that all would be well if he packed up some supplies in a hessian parcel inside his backpack was evidently now resulting in a terribly oily mess all down his fur.
Making a pit stop for tea and snacks, we soaked up what butter we could with what was left of the bread and flung the oily pack on top of a nearby stone to dry out in the sun. I must have only been half way through my tea when Tommy jumped up with a start and began shouting at a local scoundrel who was seemingly about to ‘half-inch’ his backpack. What ensued next I can only describe as a furious exchange of riotous angry squeaks which went on for several minutes until we all calmed down, and discovered that the thief wasn’t a thief at all, but a rather nice young mouse by the name of Arthur.
Over a fresh brew of tea we discovered that Arthur had recently come down to London with his brother to attend a knight’s fighting tournament. In his capacity of temporary squire, Arthur was entrusted with his brother’s equipment. Unfortunately, just the day before, Arthur had been larking about with his brother’s sword and having become a bit over excited with his advance lunges accidently flung the weapon into the Thames. Arthur pointed to the sword sticking out of the stone next to Tommy’s pack and asked if we might help him retrieve it. Happy to help a fellow mouse in trouble, the sword was already beginning to loosen with the butter melting from Tommy’s pack so we decided to squeeze out what remaining oil we could and within minutes Arthur had pulled the sword free.
As a thank you, Arthur invited us back to meet his friends at the local tavern. We had a great evening of chat and medieval entertainment around what Arthur thought was the best table in the house. Since returning home Arthur has written to tell of some exciting news. Some days after our departure he and his brother noticed some strange writing on the blade of the sword that we pulled out the stone. The inscription read, “Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone is the rightful born king of England’s mouse kingdom.” With his new found status and wealth Arthur has ordered a round table just like the one he took a fancy to at the tavern and is making plans to appoint a cavalry of Knights to protect the Kingdom. Arthur’s brother was the first to be appointed in recompense of Arthur losing his favourite sword.
Hope this letter finds you well!
Have you ever had an accident with something you’ve packed in your bag? Have you ever had a good night down the local tavern? Morris would love to hear from you, so please feel free to hit the comments box.
Morris will get back to you mouse style.
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