Garwain was pleased to get back to the Canine Livery Centre. It had been a long trip back from the Holey Land. He had been glad to leave as he kept falling in those caves and he wasn’t that fond of Cruzade anyway, he preferred Lucozade or, if desperate Gatorade. He slowly climbed down, well up really, off his faithful Dachshund, Reinhold. He had served him well over many months and miles but, having to really jack up the stirrups to ensue his feet didn’t drag along the ground, meant that his knees kept bumping on his chin as Reinny galloped along.
Garwain had served with distinction and so had been given a field commission to Varlet 2nd Grade. This was unusual at his age because he had only graduated from Varlet Academy in Camelot a year before. No one usually got promotion from Varlet 3rd Grade after less than 2 years. At the ceremony he had been given a certificate that entitled him to up grade from a Canine 1.7 to a Canine 2.1. He was delighted with this as it meant he could now choose to ride a German Shepherd and keep his feet off the deck without suffering chin bruises. He also got to spend a few shekels on extras so he chose a big woofer so that he could get the full benefit from playing his favourite classical music while he galloped / loped along. His dog’s Bach was going to be a lot worse than his Bitehoven. He was not quite sure why the Germans had got such a hold on the cruzade transport market these days but assumed it was something to do with the cross border tariff arrangements. He checked about nine dogs before settling on a fine specimen called Wilhelm. He saddled up and off they went, back on the trail to his home barracks in Aldershot.
It was raining, of course, for his trip along the M4 and he wasn’t quite sure if Wilhelm was the ideal mount for him, ‘They wouldn’t send a knight out on a dog like this,’ he muttered to himself as he slipped off the rain-soaked back of the dog for the 11th time. ‘Thereby hangs a tail,’ thought Wilhelm as he doggedly kept going through the wind and rain.
After he had settled back in to barracks life and got to know Willi better for just over a year he got call on Skipe from the Palace. ‘Hi, it’s King Richard de Tird here’ said the voice of the King who originated from Tipperary, a long, long way away from Aldershot. ‘D’you remember when ye saved de life of dat Varlet just as he was going to disappear down one of dem caves in the Holey Land?’
‘Well, yes, of course I do,’ said Garwain.’
‘That Varlet was in fact your King, myself, Richard de Tird. I am so grateful to you for saving my life that I am going to bypass the normal Varlet grading system and promote you straight up to a Knight 2nd Grade. This will give you an increase in salary, all the mead you can drink and an entitlement to wear plate armour and ride a Equine 1.3. I have notified the H.R.department and you should get the papers through in about two years if that department works as efficiently as it normally does.’
‘Tank ee, err I mean Thank you very much Syre,’ said Garwain who was delighted that he was finally going to be able to get rid of his Varlet style chain mail, he was fed up with licking and sticking all those envelopes.
So off he went to the stables to trade in Willi for Dobbin. Dobbin was getting old, a bit long in the tooth, and there was no choice as there had been a run on horses because of the Cheltenham Gold cup in a couple of weeks time. The other unfortunate truth was that the fashion for German dogs had passed and more Varlets were now choosing to ride the new fangled labranials so the trade in price for Wilhelm had dropped quite dramatically. So it was Dobbin or nothing. He chose Dobbin who was strong and willing but he was a little thin and so his ribs stuck out.
As he was now entitled to wear plate armour, he trotted off to the armoury to get fitted with his new suit. It was a shame that stainless steel had not yet been invented as this meant that he was stuck with the old style rusty plates that creaked and squealed as he walked and was high maintenance, especially in WD35 costs.
Eventually all was ready so he donned his suit of armour and was helped up onto Dobbins back where he found that the ribs stuck in his backside rather uncomfortably, making many bumps in the knight.
I wish life was like your stories, Richard - I think! Very funny tale.
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