Thursday, October 30, 2008
In medieval times, tales of knightly valour swept across the land. They were the stuff favourite bedtime stories were made of, passed in reverential tones from one generation to the next. Many a young boy grew up with knightly ambitions.
But just who were these men who saved maidens in distress, leapt across flaming bridges in a single bound, who slayed fearsome dragons and who were not above saving little kittens from tall tree branches?
Unbeknownst to the medieval public at large, the knights didn’t know who they were themselves. They had heard the same legends, had been recruited because of them, had dreamt of making it to the fabled Round Table. But did they save maidens on a daily basis, just before the lunch hour?
No!
In fact, here’s what a typical experienced knight’s morning schedule looked like:
5 am Wake up
5.30 am Feed the horse and clean its stable
6.30 am Watch a burning bridge jumping demonstration and discuss techniques
7.30 am Feed abandoned kittens previously rescued by other knights
8.30 am Attend discussion on kitten welfare
9.30 am Talk about horse feeding to junior knights
By the end of each day, most knights were too exhausted feeding animals that they were too tired to do any knightly things like save maidens in distress. Though all still wore their armour as they trudged through their activities, it soon lost its symbolism and did not seem that special anymore.
The King of the Round Table (You know his name, of course, Everyone does.) heard rumours about this situation, and started offering help. Over the years, he offered stable hands, more burning bridges, maps to find lost maidens, talks by specialists on animal welfare... and then, in an all-out effort to make sure everyone was helped, he threw two funfairs for everyone, with goodie bags galore, ranging from extra stable hands to better bridges to comprehensive knight-proof maps on how to find lost maidens, to talks and hands-on activities by specialists on animal welfare. The knights, said the king, would also get a complimentary armour polish and repair at the door, which was guaranteed to make even the dirtiest of armours shine.
When the knights heard about this fair, however, there were mixed reactions, though the discussion mostly centred around the armour shining and repair.You see, although all knights wore their armour daily, how they treated it was pretty much up to them. Some knights insisted on keeping their armour as shiny as it had always been, polishing it daily until they could see their reflection in it, as clear as day. Each new spot, each mark, each line was so clearly seen that other knights used it as a mirror when they assembled in the King’s Court in the mornings.
Other knights had let their armour tarnish, only polishing it when the mandatory cleaning sessions came along. This meant that their blackened armours shone in some parts with a burnished golden look. Which they thought that that made them look pretty rugged!
Then there were others who let their armours be for so long that generations of spiders called it their ancestral homes and fat mice clamoured in and out of gaping holes while the knights were asleep.
When news of the funfair reached the ears of the knights, the knight with the shiny, well-kept armour responded promptly to the fun-fair, insisting that he needed to learn how to maintain the shininess of his armour despite all his lines and marks. The knight with the tarnished armour, however, was adamant that anyone would touch his armour, which others had admired for its brilliant golden splotches. The knight with the rusted armour shared his indignation, upset that anyone would even think of making him chase away the families of spiders.
“What audacity!” he exclaimed. “Don’t they know how long the spiders have been there? It’s because of them that this armour has served me so well!”
One by one, the knights declined the trip to the funfair. Too far, one said. Too long, said another. Unnecessary, grumbled yet another. And in all truthfulness, there were some who weren’t even told, simple because the message got lost in translation and the “funfair” trickled down to the knights as “another talk on a burning bridge”, which understably, produced groans from all who heard it.
“What can be done?” asked the King, scratching his head as he read the grumbles of the knights.
But just who were these men who saved maidens in distress, leapt across flaming bridges in a single bound, who slayed fearsome dragons and who were not above saving little kittens from tall tree branches?
Unbeknownst to the medieval public at large, the knights didn’t know who they were themselves. They had heard the same legends, had been recruited because of them, had dreamt of making it to the fabled Round Table. But did they save maidens on a daily basis, just before the lunch hour?
No!
In fact, here’s what a typical experienced knight’s morning schedule looked like:
5 am Wake up
5.30 am Feed the horse and clean its stable
6.30 am Watch a burning bridge jumping demonstration and discuss techniques
7.30 am Feed abandoned kittens previously rescued by other knights
8.30 am Attend discussion on kitten welfare
9.30 am Talk about horse feeding to junior knights
By the end of each day, most knights were too exhausted feeding animals that they were too tired to do any knightly things like save maidens in distress. Though all still wore their armour as they trudged through their activities, it soon lost its symbolism and did not seem that special anymore.
The King of the Round Table (You know his name, of course, Everyone does.) heard rumours about this situation, and started offering help. Over the years, he offered stable hands, more burning bridges, maps to find lost maidens, talks by specialists on animal welfare... and then, in an all-out effort to make sure everyone was helped, he threw two funfairs for everyone, with goodie bags galore, ranging from extra stable hands to better bridges to comprehensive knight-proof maps on how to find lost maidens, to talks and hands-on activities by specialists on animal welfare. The knights, said the king, would also get a complimentary armour polish and repair at the door, which was guaranteed to make even the dirtiest of armours shine.
When the knights heard about this fair, however, there were mixed reactions, though the discussion mostly centred around the armour shining and repair.You see, although all knights wore their armour daily, how they treated it was pretty much up to them. Some knights insisted on keeping their armour as shiny as it had always been, polishing it daily until they could see their reflection in it, as clear as day. Each new spot, each mark, each line was so clearly seen that other knights used it as a mirror when they assembled in the King’s Court in the mornings.
Other knights had let their armour tarnish, only polishing it when the mandatory cleaning sessions came along. This meant that their blackened armours shone in some parts with a burnished golden look. Which they thought that that made them look pretty rugged!
Then there were others who let their armours be for so long that generations of spiders called it their ancestral homes and fat mice clamoured in and out of gaping holes while the knights were asleep.
When news of the funfair reached the ears of the knights, the knight with the shiny, well-kept armour responded promptly to the fun-fair, insisting that he needed to learn how to maintain the shininess of his armour despite all his lines and marks. The knight with the tarnished armour, however, was adamant that anyone would touch his armour, which others had admired for its brilliant golden splotches. The knight with the rusted armour shared his indignation, upset that anyone would even think of making him chase away the families of spiders.
“What audacity!” he exclaimed. “Don’t they know how long the spiders have been there? It’s because of them that this armour has served me so well!”
One by one, the knights declined the trip to the funfair. Too far, one said. Too long, said another. Unnecessary, grumbled yet another. And in all truthfulness, there were some who weren’t even told, simple because the message got lost in translation and the “funfair” trickled down to the knights as “another talk on a burning bridge”, which understably, produced groans from all who heard it.
“What can be done?” asked the King, scratching his head as he read the grumbles of the knights.
My story has ended; 9:26 AM.