MST: A King's Word by Jan Vincent
The Mad MSTr (MadMSTr@SPAMMENOT.gmx.net)

The following is a parody of the work of erotic fiction entitled "A King's
Word", written by Jan Vincent. The original story along with the author's
email address can be found at

/files/Collections/Alt.Sex.Stories.Moderated/Year2003/45685

As always, no greater insult to the author is intended than what she intended to us.

Mystery Science Theater 3000 is by Best Brains, Inc. The
characters are just on loan, and no copyright infringement or claim to
ownership is intended.

Personal notes: I really didn't think this story was bad. It started off
well enough. But when I encountered the name of a certain esquire, I doubled
up with laughter. And when the evil councillor then made a trademark
appearance, I decided that it was worth taking a shot at. But really, if the
more obvious cliches were thrown out and the occasional faux pas removed, it
wouldn't be half bad. This is also why I'm skipping the interludes. They'd
fit in, but I don't think the story needs more ribbing.


ALL: We've got story sign!

[6..5..4..3..2..1]

> A King's Word
>
> By
>
> Jan Vincent

MIKE: There we go.

> For a long time King Michael of La Roche had searched for a suitable
> husband for Eleanor, but the sons of earls and barons would invariably
> fail to make an impression on his only child. She was seventeen, but
> already deemed too old to postpone her wedding day for much longer. Her
> father and her father's court would tell her so repeatedly, for the line
> of succession to the throne was in peril. Eleanor knew her father blamed
> Lady Elspeth, her dear mother, for the lack of a male heir. La Roche
> needed one desperately, she had been told, as rumors of conspiracy against
> her aged father abounded. Samuel I, King of Bildstadt, and Michael's first
> cousin, had already claimed the throne of La Roche, posing a real threat
> to the independence of the kingdom Timid knocks on the heavy door made of
> Altharian oak brought Eleanor's thoughts to a halt.

TOM (scribbling furiously): Eleanor... Lady Elspeth... Samuel I... Michael's
first cousin. The kingdom Timid... what?
MIKE: You're stumbling over a lost period there, Tom. Scratch the kingdom 
Timid.
TOM: *blinks* Oh. OK.

> "Who is?"
>
> "It's I, Milady. Galantine."

CROW: I come bearing bottles of Ballantine.
MIKE: And the level drops right off the bat.
CROW: Hey, it ain't Dostoevsky.
MIKE: No, then you'd just be making vodka jokes.
CROW (Russian accent): Bozhe moi, komrad!
MIKE: Oh, shut up.

> Galantine, Eleanor's faithful lady-in-waiting, the only one Eleanor dared
> trust in her father's court, so full of treachery and ill will.
>
> "The door is unlocked. Do come in."

TOM: So full of treachery is it that she keeps the door unlocked.

> Galantine's blue eyes were bright and happy; her rosy face, framed by
> golden braids, displayed her careless wide smile. She made a small curtsey
> and came closer.
>
> "Milady, everybody is waiting. The tournament is about to begin."
>
> "Yes, indeed." Eleanor sighed. Her fingers played with the golden ring of
> the House of La Roche, as she stared out of the window, watching the white
> clouds against a sunny sky.

MIKE: At least it isn't storming. That's always a sure sign of trouble.

> "Milady... you seem not pleased."
>
> "Indeed I am not."
>
> Galantine studied her lady's face -- pale as moonlight, beautiful as a
> heaven angel's,

CROW: Which is a lot better than a Hell's Angel's.

> but so often sad and morose.
>
> "Milady, I do not understand. The finest men of the kingdom are going to
> fight to have the honor, the privilege to obtain your hand... to marry
> you."
>
> "If only they would be content with my hand alone."

TOM: Yeah, they could just chop it off and be done with it.

> The veiled allusion to the pleasures of the flesh made Galantine blush.
> Her lady was known to cause an uproar in the king's court for being so
> unnaturally outspoken. Lady Eleanor had reasoned with her father she could
> be queen without a husband, but her father had dismissed her with raucous
> laughter. "Childish gibberish," he said. "Childish gibberish," he
> repeated, failing to see those very words were breaking his child's heart.

MIKE: The bastard.
TOM: Actually, he was thinking of future bastards.

> "Milady, we must go. Your father and your mother will become impatient.
> The evil Iago may come with his guards... And..."

CROW: This Iago guy's off to a bad start.

> "Yes, you are right... as always. Let us go."
>
> Eleanor led the way, her flowing satiny blue and white long dress being
> almost caught under Galantine's anxious feet. She inserted the royal ring
> back in her middle finger,

MIKE: Err, that should be "on", before you try to picture it.
TOM: Thanks.

> realizing once more she had the royal seal, but could not be queen on her
> own. She needed a man to assert her authority. Eleanor wanted to scream,
> show her indignation at the injustice of it all; instead she just shook
> her head as she left the walls of La Roche. She hurried past Iago's guards
> at the drawbridge and before the royal stand. She hated that mellifluous
> bearded man her father trusted so much.

MIKE: Never trust a man with a beard, that's what I always say.
CROW: Unless his name is Santa Claus.
MIKE: I don't trust him either. Too damn cheerful.

> Count Iago. She shivered, as she took her seat between her mother and
> father, making an effort to erase the count's face from her mind's eye.

CROW: You know, I can't shake this feeling that Iago's up to no good.
TOM: Whatever makes you say that?

> Lady Elspeth smiled at her daughter, seemingly relieved that Eleanor
> hadn't made a scene for once. On the other hand, Michael of La Roche did
> not hide the displeasure caused by his daughter's late entrance. He felt
> too tired to rebuke her in front of his guests. Most of all, he wanted the
> tournament to commence, the first step to assure the independence of the
> kingdom. All the bravest bachelors of high birth had been invited, and
> whoever won the tournament would be Eleanor's husband and the next king.

CROW: They should make a reality show out of this.
MIKE: Bachelors: The Battle.
TOM: Rumble in La Roche. This time, it's marital.

> His cousin Samuel had sent his son, Lythe of Althar, to the tournament. At
> first King Michael was furious with this intrusion, but then he relented,
> listening to his advisors, listening to Iago... Lythe was a mediocre
> swordsman, the monarch was told. Samuel's son could never win the
> tournament.

TOM: Neeeeever.

> The acceptance of Lythe's challenge could forestall a bloody war between
> La Roche and Bildstadt, weakening Samuel's claim to the throne, should his
> son lose to a La Roche nobleman, a likely scenario, for the finest knights
> of the kingdom were present, waiting impatiently in the arena for the
> Royal Sign of Commencement.

CROW: The thumbs-up, presumably.

> The tournament began and with to everyone's surprise Lythe defeated the
> Earls of Laisdale and Scythe. Fighting her boredom and impatience, Eleanor
> fixed her eyes on Lythe, a gangly young man, who apparently had improved
> his parrying skills enormously. She could see how the gentry of La Roche
> gasped every time the sword of Samuel's son broke the adversary's shield
> or cut through chain mail, leaving an ominous trail of blood behind.

TOM: Ooh, all that blood can't be good.

> Eleanor searched for Iago, but apparently the count was nowhere near the
> tournament stands or the muddy arena. As the hours passed by, only four
> swordsmen remained: Lythe, the Duke of Laville, the Baron of Lisse, and a
> young man Eleanor did not recognize.
>
> "Mother, who is that fourth knight?"

CROW: I'll tell you in two weeks.
(MIKE and TOM groan.)

> Lady Elspeth blinked and directed her attention to the horseman in a
> darkened armor astride a black stud. She was not able to see his features,
> as he wore a helmet that hid his cheeks and chin.

MIKE: A black knight on a black horse, with a face-concealing helmet.
TOM: This guy is *so* going to win.

> "I know not. Methinks he took the place of the Duke of Larousse. The dear
> young man has fallen ill."
>
> For some unknown reason, the `Dark Knight' captured Eleanor's attention,
> her heart began to hammer in her chest, the sweat trickling down her back,
> producing the strangest chill. She almost could not contain her joy when
> the knight dismounted the Baron of Lisse and pressed his pointed blade
> against the throat of the man who had so doggedly chased after her for the
> past two years. Soon as the baron conceded defeat, the knight offered his
> gauntleted hand. With some reluctance the baron accepted the helping hand
> and stood up, making a grimace. Slowly he limped toward the end of the
> arena, where the pages awaited him to remove his muddied armor. With
> amazing agility, the knight regained his place on the imposing, majestic
> black horse, whose headband displayed a half moon.

CROW: It's Sailor Moon in disguise!
(MIKE rolls his eyes.)

> With an almost imperceptible heel tap, the horseman commanded the stud to
> make a half turn. For a moment, Eleanor's eyes caught his gaze. Piercing
> eyes they were, Eleanor realized, even if that intriguing man was about
> fifty feet away from her. The eye contact did not last long, as the knight
> suddenly instigated his mount to gallop to the end of the arena, where he
> would wait for the outcome of the duel between the Duke of Laville and
> Lythe of Althar.
>
> To everyone's horror, Lythe killed the duke, thrusting his sword across
> his chest, in spite of the duke's protective armor and the chain mail
> under it. It seemed as though Samuel's son had a pact with the Unnamed
> One, and this one must be Iago, Eleanor thought,

TOM: Lots of Unnamed Ones to go around, but this one has a name.

> overcome with sudden bitterness. The princess and the whole royal stand
> sat breathless when the Dark Knight yelled an outlandish war cry

CROW: SPOOOOOOOON!

> and charged toward Lythe. Using his long legs, Lythe climbed back to his
> bay mount effortlessly, but before he could defend himself his head was
> severed from his body with a clean sweep of the knight's sword.

CROW (Lythe): I *knew* I should've stayed down.
TOM (Lythe): When I was still ahead of the game.
(MIKE and CROW groan.)
MIKE: We were trying to *avoid* that one, Tom.
TOM (sheepishly): Oh. Sorry.

> "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,"

MIKE: A head for a head...
TOM: Hey!
MIKE: Well, you started it.

> the knight shouted with a husky voice. "My brother's death is avenged."

CROW (huskily): Now, where's the beer?

> Immediately the nobility of La Roche stood and clapped and praised the
> young man's bravery. With a much relieved expression King Michael signaled
> the knight to approach the royal stand. The young man and the dark stud
> obeyed; Eleanor had to avert the knight's probing stare. She realized they
> were light blue, his eyes, like the morning sky, like the color of her own
> dress Her heart beat faster again, her hands balled up into tight fists.

CROW: That stud's got her all hot and bothered.
MIKE: I know you think I can't accuse you of being a perv without getting it
shot back at me. You're wrong, you perv.
CROW: Mike, I'm shocked. We're all friends here.
(TOM snorts.)

> "Reveal yourself, young man. Who are you?"
>
> Eleanor looked at her father, surprised. Didn't he know who that man was?

MIKE: He did. He just wanted to give the moment more dramatic impact.

> A moment of enormous tension rippled through the arena, as the knight
> unbuckled the chin-strap of his helmet.

TOM: Ivanhoe! Ivanhoe!

> Eleanor covered the mouth with her hand, her neck craning in disbelief.
> But he was... but he was... a WOMAN?

MIKE: A WOMAN?!
TOM: A WOMAAAN?!!
CROW: Come on, guys, I can't top that!

> That very question raged through the arena like wildfire. Eleanor let
> herself fall on her chair, dizzy and flabbergasted. The Dark Knight was a
> woman, with long golden strands and with a face as feminine as her own.

CROW (triumphantly): It *is* Sailor Moon! And you all laughed, you
simpletons!
(MIKE rolls his eyes -- again.)

> With a feline grin the woman stared at Eleanor, bringing the hilt of her
> upturned sword near her own face, the Sign of Victory Offered. That meant
> she bestowed her win upon the princess. That meant the horsewoman was
> claiming her right to marry the king's daughter.

TOM: Ooh, that's going to be a tricky one.
CROW: Gee, ya think?

> King Michael cleared his throat, making a huge effort to remain calm. "Who
> are you? Are you a witch?"

MIKE: Does anyone have a duck handy?

> "I just saved your kingdom from your most hated cousin," the woman
> replied, sheathing her sword, "and you, Sire, accuse me of witchcraft."

CROW: Tut tut, Sire.

> "No woman can fight like you did."

TOM: Well, maybe Xena.
CROW: Or Sailor Moon!
MIKE: That's enough!

> "Sire, I can assure you I am no witch. I am the Duke of Larousse's
> daughter I am Gwendolynne of Larousse, your goddaughter, baptized where
> the River of Love meets the Lake of Forgiveness."

MIKE: Right next to the Meadow of Truth, under the Apple Tree of Justice.

> "Gwendolynne of Larousse? You?"
>
> "I am nineteen now, Sire. I am no longer the child you promised to keep
> from harm." Seeing the utter disbelief in everybody's faces, Gwendolynne
> pulled a golden necklace from under her armor. Dangling from it, the seal
> of the House of Larousse sparkled in the midday sun. "I came here to
> avenge my brother's death. He was poisoned two days ago by a King Samuel's
> lackey. It seems as though your cousin, Sire, will stop at nothing to
> eliminate the opposition to the annexation of La Roche by the Kingdom of
> Bildstadt."

CROW: Cue dramatic music.

> -----------------

MIKE: Section break! Tom?
TOM: Hmmm? Oh, right. Err... "Meanwhile, somewhere else..."

> "What in hell's name happened?"
>
> The esquire drew back and away from the Chancellor of the Kingdom, whose
> bloodshot eyes betrayed his ire.
>
> "Milord, the plan failed. A woman won the tournament."
>
> "A woman? A WOMAN? Speak some sense, you worthless heap of rubbish. A
> woman, you said?"

MIKE (esquire): No, a three-toed sloth. Not that I matter, being a worthless 
heap of rubbish.

> "Yes, Milord. The Duke of Larousse's sister, Lady Gwendolynne."
>
> "Gwendolynne? Gwendolynne of Larousse?"

CROW: Does this guy have a penchant for repetition or what?

> "Yes, Milord."
>
> Count Iago remained pensive for a moment, then asked, "And where is
> this... woman?"

CROW: Cherchez la femme.

> "She was taken to the Wing of the Princess to dress a more fitting attire
> for a lady of her status. His Majesty has invited her for the banquet and
> she will be--"
>
> "And where's Lord Althar?" Count Iago cut in, too impatient to wait for
> the esquire's explanation.
>
> "Dead, Milord. Lady Gwendolynne killed him. She found out about--"
>
> "Enough, Gaydar. Not a word about that matter. Do you hear?"

(Homeric laughter bursts out.)
MIKE (wiping tears from his eyes): Gaydar?!
CROW: You just can't make up stuff like this, you really can't.
TOM: Perhaps it was meant as a... *breaking up* subtle... reference...
(ALL start laughing again.)

> Count Iago left the royal guards' barracks and hurried back to the palace.
> He had missed the tournament because of a badly timed rendezvous with King
> Samuel's emissary. If he had been on the arena he could have seen it
> coming... And now Samuel's son was dead. The Chancellor of the Kingdom
> realized his own head and body were in real danger of being separated from
> each other in a very violent fashion.
>
> He had to devise a scheme to divert the anger of King Samuel away from
> him. Revenge, perhaps, he considered. Yes, that would do.

CROW: Here's a better idea. Just go over to the king and say: "Here's my
esquire. He's called Gaydar."
MIKE: If *that* doesn't distract him for the next week or so...

> -----------------
>
> "Where did you learn the art of the sword, Lady Larousse?"
>
> Gwendolynne studied the reserved countenance of Eleanor. She had never
> seen such a beautiful maiden, with smooth long reddish brown hair that
> shone and smelled like fresh roses.

TOM: You never read about maidens whose hair smells like moldy apples, do
you?
MIKE: Errr... Would you want to?
TOM: That's not the point! The point is that hair odor is increasingly used
as a way of creating a de-facto second class citizenship!
MIKE: Crow, he's being scary. Make him stop.
CROW: Don't worry, Mike. I've got a bar with my name on it that'll
straighten him out.
TOM: I don't get it.
CROW: Oh, you'll get it alright.

> Eleanor kept stealing quick glances at her, her dark green eyes showing
> her innate guarded curiosity.
>
> "With my father and my brother, after a lot of begging and cajoling."
>
> "I heard your brother was the favorite knight before the commencement of
> the tournament," Eleanor said, as Galantine helped the blond woman remove
> one of the cuisses from her thighs.

CROW: Kisses?
MIKE: Cuisses.
CROW: *snorts* Yeah, like you really know what cuisses are.
MIKE: Go ask Tom. He's good with all this medieval stuff.
TOM: No, that's alright. Wouldn't want to be *scary* and all.

> "Swordsmanship runs in the family." Gwendolynne smiled, taking off the
> gauntlets. "My great-great-grandfather became the Duke of Larousse when he
> helped your great-grandfather, King Louis III, in the battle of Aix-la-
> Paix

MIKE: Eh-la-peh?
CROW (outrrrageous French accent): You Anglo-Saxon pig-dog!

> against the House of Bildstadt." Gwendolynne gave a sigh of relief as the
> chain mail was lifted from her. Despite being specially tailored for a
> female, that piece of protective clothing was still heavy and somewhat
> cumbersome.

MIKE: I'm guessing it's not bikini chain mail, then.

> Eleanor's eyes fell on the breasts of that unusual knight, recognizing the
> curves and the softness of a female hidden by a loose white chemise soaked
> with sweat. Eleanor blushed as she realized Gwendolynne had caught her
> indiscreet stare. Again she was able to see that feline grin on the blond
> woman's face, which frightened and fascinated her at the same time.

CROW (low voice): Heh heh heh. Like what you see, cupcake?
MIKE: Crow!

> "I will leave now," said Eleanor. "Galantine will prepare you a warm
> bath."
>
> "Milady, do not leave on my account. I have three sisters and I am dressed
> by them every day."

MIKE: This is a nobility thing, right?
CROW: I sure hope so.

> Having said that, Gwendolynne tugged the chemise over her shoulders,
> revealing the most beautiful body Eleanor had ever seen. Gwendolynne's
> arms and torso had a visible healthy tone, her breasts were round and firm
> as pomegranates,

TOM: Pomegranates?
MIKE: I like it.
CROW: It beats apples.
MIKE: Various exotic fruits.
CROW: Anything involving globes.

> her slender ribcage and waist, half covered by her long golden tresses,
> betrayed the femaleness of that cat-like creature.
>
> When Gwendolynne removed her culottes,

CROW: Clothes?
(MIKE opens his mouth.)
TOM: Forget it.

> helped by Galantine, Eleanor turned away, ashamed by the reactions of her
> own body, feeling her nipples press against the smoothness of the fabric
> of her dress. "I must go," she said, her heart galloping like a wild
> horse. "Galantine will look after you."

CROW: She'll look after you *real* good.
MIKE: Crow!

> With a hurried pace Eleanor left her room and that strange young woman,
> only two years older than she, but... so mature, so... full of energy,
> so... love-worthy.

CROW: Is that medieval for boinkable?
MIKE: Boinkable?!
CROW: I'm trying to keep this PG.
MIKE: That's a first.

> Eleanor sighed, her eyes becoming moist suddenly. Against the cold wall of
> the palace, she sobbed silently, being assaulted by that indelible
> image... that feline face grinning, those strong feminine hands making the
> Sign of Victory Offered, claiming the title of champion and the right to
> hold her hand.

TOM (singing): I wanna hold your ha-aa-aaand...

> It had been such a disappointment to learn the Dark Knight was a woman,
> Eleanor mused. Her father had dismissed Gwendolynne's claim to her hand as
> "childish gibberish".

MIKE: Oh, that's his answer to everything.

> A maiden cannot marry another maiden, Lady Elspeth had explained to her,
> as though her daughter had not grasped the political consequences of
> Gwendolynne's victory.

TOM (singing): Let me tell you 'bout the birds and the bees...
MIKE: That's quite enough singing for now.
TOM: I'm so underappreciated here.

> A moving shadow made her straighten herself up in a blink of an eye. It
> was Iago, judging by the furtiveness of the approaching footsteps.

CROW: And the evil cackling.

> "Lady Eleanor... As always, a sight for sore eyes."
>
> "Count Iago, what are you doing here? Surely you must know that even the
> Chancellor of the Kingdom is not allowed in this wing of the palace
> without my or the king's permission."
>
> "I beg your pardon, Milady. Having missed the tournament due to other
> pressing matters, I was terribly curious about the sensational winner of
> the tournament. Lady Gwendolynne of Larousse, I hear. And therefore I
> asked His Majesty's permission to pay a visit to Lady Gwendolynne, which
> your father graciously conceded to this servant of Your Ladyship." Iago
> smiled and bowed before her.
>
> "You may not. Lady Gwendolynne is readying herself for the banquet.
> Please, leave."
>
> "Your wish is my command, Milady." Iago again smiled, repeating the
> respectful bow.

TOM (falsetto): I'll get you! And your little dog!

> Eleanor stood still, watching the long-legged, thin figure descend the
> stairs solemnly, his left hand holding the hilt of his sheathed sword.

CROW: He's fondling his weapon for confidence.
MIKE: If you're going to keep it PG, you might as well cut the innuendo.
CROW: Come on! It's all I've got left!

> She sighed, and again she experienced a chill, while her temples throbbed,
> forewarning her of impending danger.

TOM: Her gaydar is tingling!
(MIKE snorts.)

> -----------------
>
> The arrival of Lady Gwendolynne of Larousse at the imposing entrance of
> the Hall of All Saints, where the banquet was to take place, ceased all
> the animated chattering among the guests of the king. Once again Eleanor
> could not believe her eyes. Gwendolynne's long blond tresses shone like
> the midday sun, and her pastel eyes

TOM: Pastel?
MIKE: I like it.
CROW: It beats hazel.
MIKE: Various gems.
CROW: Anything involving orbs.

> were magnets in a lively, exquisite face, tanned by the elements. It was
> reasonable to say that Lady Larousse was at least as beautiful and
> feminine as any of the fairest ladies of the kingdom.

MIKE: At the *very* least.

> And that confident  grin... And the fact that that young woman had
> vanquished the best knights of La Roche and the son of King Samuel was
> beyond comprehension.

CROW: Swoon, swoon.

> Eleanor swallowed, taking a deep breath, as she noticed that Gwendolynne
> had chosen one of her favorite dresses, a cream dress Lady Elspeth had
> offered her when she turned sixteen.
>
> "Your Majesty," Gwendolynne said, making a curtsey.
>
> "Lady Gwendolynne, my forgotten goddaughter," Michael of La Roche greeted.
> "Please, be welcome."
>
> "I only wished the Duchy of Larousse was not so far away, so that you,
> Sire, could visit the modest house of my forefathers more often."
>
> "Yes, indeed. I lament the loss of your brother. The House of Larousse has
> always been the most faithful among the noble houses of La Roche. The
> Crown is indebted to you. Please, come and sit next to me, so that you can
> recount how you learned the manly art of the sword."

CROW: She's so butch.

> Eleanor saw Gwendolynne's red lips purse in an enigmatic smile. The
> princess promptly lowered her eyes, evading Gwendolynne's stare. A cat,
> she was a cat... or rather a lioness... pacing back and forth before
> pouncing upon her prey. She moved her chair aside and away from her
> father's. A page readily set down a new chair for the blond noblewoman in
> the space between at the royal table. When Gwendolynne sat down next to
> her, Eleanor was able to see the woman's -- girl's? -- profile. She had
> Celtic blood, no doubt, Eleanor thought, her pulse accelerating. She had
> always admired the Celtic faces, fair as the summer wheat, with eyes as
> pure as the sea.

MIKE: Breath as fair as a winter's breeze...
TOM: Poised like a slender aspen...
CROW: Knockers the size of pomegranates...
MIKE and TOM: CROW!

> And as though the blond woman understood what she was thinking,
> Gwendolynne's smile grew without facing her. She felt Gwendolynne's hands
> searching hers, until their fingers met and interlocked. Eleanor's ears
> ignored the conversation between her father and Gwendolynne. All she could
> sense was that cold hand clasping hers, and the curious staring from the
> men and women of the court sitting at the sizable banquet table opposite
> the smaller royal table. She could hear how the courtiers whispered and
> let out short-lived laughs, afraid lest they annoyed the king. She hated
> their hypocrisy the most, and before her anger could set in, she heard,
> "Your Ladyship?"
>
> She turned to see Gwendolynne's face very close to hers. "Yes, Lady
> Larousse?"

MIKE: Kiss me, you fool.

> "You're hurting me."
>
> "Hurting you?"
>
> "Yes, my hand. Hands are like swords, Milady...

TOM: That's a new one.
CROW (Gwendolynne): Oops, forgot to cut my nails again.

> To wield one well one must handle it as one handles a dove: sweetly and
> gently, so that one can feel what the sword tells oneself. Do not grip it
> as a torture vise until it becomes bloodless."

MIKE: The sword?
CROW: The dove.

> Releasing Gwendolynne's hand at once, Eleanor said, "I'm, I'm sorry." The
> blond woman smiled and grabbed Eleanor's hand once again, her fingers
> searching Eleanor's. Eleanor gasped.

MIKE (falsetto): Eeek! It's that hand again! Get it off!

> The ten courses of the lavish banquet were consumed sparingly by both
> young women, whereas the king and his guests had no such qualms about
> self-indulgence. Wine flowed freely down thirsty throats, as the
> troubadours sang their songs of love, friendship and mordant wit. With
> utmost delight Friar Lavigne ate his third course -- stuffed veal with
> onions and raisins, the right price for his daily sermon at the pulpit of
> the palace's church.

TOM: The dental plan was pretty nifty, too.

> From time to time, against her own will, Eleanor's eyes fell prey to Count
> Iago's stare. "The horrible man," she thought, "the horrible man is
> smiling at me. Dear God, protect me from this evil."

CROW: Never fear! *I* shall protect you!
MIKE: Crow, knight in shining brass.
CROW: Damn straight!

> On one of those occasions, the count stood and said, "Sire, may I speak?"
>
> "Indeed, you may," the king replied, taking another bite off a succulent
> chicken leg with his precarious teeth.

MIKE: He should talk to the friar. He might be able to get him into the 
dental plan, too.

> "Sire, I would like to propose a toast. Lady Gwendolynne of Larousse has
> impressed us with her swordsmanship skills we thought, wrongly I must add,
> exclusive to the world of men. She proved, beyond any doubt, that women
> can be as valiant and courageous as any man."

CROW: And thus the era of feminism was ushered in.

> The king and a large part of the guests interrupted their gluttonous fest
> to pay attention to the Chancellor's discourse. Eleanor remained
> intrigued, sensing treachery in the air.

MIKE: Since Iago has yet to speak a single sincere word, I'm guessing she's
right.

> "I want to congratulate Lady Larousse for such a magnificent display of
> wit and strength," Iago continued, facing the young woman in question. "I
> humbly raise my chalice to praise this lady of many virtues."

CROW: Many, many virtues.
MIKE: Watch it.

> The king smiled and with some difficulty he rose to his feet. Looking down
> at Gwendolynne, he gestured she could remain seated, unlike the other
> guests, who had sprung to their feet as soon as their ruler stood. "I make
> the Chancellor's words mine. Lady Larousse, the Crown of La Roche is
> indebted to you, and I will grant you the title of "Duke of Larousse".

TOM: What happened to "Duchess"?
CROW: And thus the young era of feminism was dealt a serious blow.

> Now that your father and brother are dead, a strong, courageous hand is
> needed in that recondite corner of my kingdom."
>
> "Thank you, Sire." Gwendolynne made another attempt at getting to her
> feet, but the old man kept preventing her from thanking him properly.

MIKE (king Michael): Stay down, you!

> "I'm at a loss for words."
>
> "Nonsense," the king said, letting himself fall on his chair. "Words are
> not needed at this time." Michael of La Roche sniffled and coughed, taking
> yet another avid sip of wine.
>
> "Sire," Iago said, still standing and holding his drinking cup made of
> silver and gold. "Would you be so kind to allow me to complete my praises
> for Lady Larousse?"
>
> "Yes, yes... but hurry up, Chancellor."
>
> "Thank you, Your Majesty. Your kindness is endless."

CROW: And my nose is so brown.

> With a fleeting wave, the king beckoned him he should haste and end his
> speech at once. The old man was impatient, the monarch's mood souring as
> his eyelids grew heavier because of the wine he had ingested so liberally.
>
> "It seems to me ," Iago continued, "that Lady Larousse deserves all the
> honors, some of them reserved to men. She saved us from an uncertain fate,
> at the hands of King Samuel's son."
>
> "Chancellor," the king sighed, "did I not bestow the title of the House of
> Larousse upon my goddaughter in this very hall?"

MIKE: You know, like, ten seconds ago?

> "Indeed, Sire. Nonetheless, I am referring to another unprecedented
> honor."
>
> "Which one?"
>
> "The princess's hand."

CROW: Ooh, that's going to be a tricky one.
TOM: Gee, ya think?

> A gelid silence froze the hall of the banquet. Eleanor's eyes bulged out,
> incredulous.

MIKE: Making her look slightly frog-like.

> "The princess's hand?" the king roared, getting to his feet. The king's
> guests stood as well, their faces frightened and unbelieving. "Are you
> MAD?"
>
> "No, Sire," the count replied with utmost aplomb.

TOM (Iago): They discharged me five months ago.

> "But Lady Larousse did win the tournament. And according to your word,
> Sire, she has the right to claim Lady Eleanor's hand, which she did...
> Every man and woman in this very hall saw Lady Larousse make the Sign of
> Victory Offered, which makes her the Champion of the Tournament, and Lady
> Eleanor's future consort."
>
> "She is a WOMAN, Count Iago.

CROW (singing): W-O-M-A-N...

> She has no right to claim that. It's against the Scriptures. A woman
> cannot marry another woman. Isn't that so, Friar Lavigne?"
>
> The monk woke up from his alcoholic lethargy and stuttered, "S... Sire?"
>
> "Can a woman marry another woman according to the Scriptures?"
>
> "A woman marry a... woman, Sire?"
>
> "Yes, that's my question."
>
> And before the round man could organize his thoughts in order to give an
> enlightened answer,

CROW (slurring): I think it's in the Old Testament somewhere.

> Gwendolynne said, "Sire, may I speak?" The king wavered for a short moment
> before he allowed himself to nod.
>
> "Sire, I claimed Lady Eleanor's hand, because it seemed the wisest thing
> to do at the moment of the tournament. I am Lady Eleanor's champion,
> because I came here to avenge my brother's death and prevent Lythe of
> Althar from winning, Sire. In any case, I will never marry someone against
> his or her will. I am sure your daughter, our future queen, would never
> accept me as her consort."
>
> "I do."
>
> Every stare moved from Gwendolynne to Eleanor.

MIKE: Didn't see *that* one coming, eh?

> "You do?" the king asked, his breathing becoming dangerously labored.
>
> "I do, father. I want Gwendolynne to be my consort."
>
> "Don't be ridiculous! How do you want to give birth to a heir if you marry
> a woman? How, in God's name?"
>
> "We'll find a way.

CROW: I think intercourse with a man occurs at some point in that cunning
plan.
MIKE: Either that, or they'll have to get a few centuries worth of head
start on genetics.

> And I know she will protect me, as she did today. As she protected the
> Kingdom of La Roche from King Samuel's evil schemes."

TOM: It's pronounced "eeeee-vil".

> Gwendolynne grinned at Eleanor, seemingly satisfied by Eleanor's display
> of courage and determination.
>
> "No! I will not allow it! A woman marrying another woman is against
> nature."

MIKE: Just ask her, and she'll tell you.

> "Sire," Iago said, "may I speak?"
>
> "By all means, Chancellor. If you have a solution for the commotion you
> just caused."
>
> The count ignored the king's remark, blinking his dark brown eyes. "The
> simplest solution is to keep your word, Sire. A king's word is sacred."
>
> King Michael's yellowish, bleary eyes stared at the bearded man and
> wondered whether his daughter had been right all those years. Could he be
> a traitor? A spy paid by Samuel's Kreutzer, the golden coins of Bildstadt?

CROW: Let's not investigate critical matters of state security now. Same-sex 
marriage policy first.

> "Why do you insist in this folly, Chancellor? Do you think there will be a
> nobleman who would accept such an arrangement? I would have a rebellion in
> my hands before you could utter `Amen'."

MIKE: Amen, a women, it's all good.
(CROW and TOM groan.)

> "You're right, Sire," Iago admitted, seemingly crestfallen. "I didn't
> think of that. Forgive my impertinence. Lady Eleanor's consort must be
> above suspicion. Indeed."

TOM: Is that a rat I smell?
CROW: Something is rotten in the state of La Roche.

> "Above suspicion?" Eleanor asked, holding her anger in check. "What do you
> mean, Count Iago?"
>
> Iago blinked his eyes again, as if the princess's question had caught him
> off guard. "Above suspicion?" he said slowly, measuring his own words.
> "Oh, yes, of course... Witchcraft... But that's nonsense, undoubtedly,

ALL: Undoubtedly!

> for Lady Larousse is your father's goddaughter. And she couldn't
> possibly...

ALL: Never!

> I will hold my tongue now. I've already said too much. It must be the
> wine."

MIKE: Or he's high on TRAITOR'S MILK!
(TOM and CROW stare.)
MIKE: That was an impromptu.
TOM: Let's not ask.
CROW: Agreed.

> With a quick bow,

CROW: And a twirl of his moustache...

> the count excused himself and left the hall, followed by his personal
> guard.

MIKE: Cue the Darth Vader theme.
TOM: Naaah. He's not *that* important.
MIKE: You're right. Strike the theme. Instead, he's laughing behind
everyone's back.
CROW: And so is his guard.
MIKE: That's a keeper.

> Eleanor bit her lips, experiencing an urge to scream and display her ire
> and hatred. She could see her father had become eerily silent upon that
> innuendo.

MIKE: So that's what we call slander these days.

> The count had reminded the king of his earlier accusation, the perfect
> excuse to prevent her union with Gwendolynne.

CROW: The whole lesbian taboo was a minor bump in the road compared to that.

> Witchcraft... a hateful accusation, that could bring the blond noblewoman
> to the stake, should she be found guilty by the Inquisition court. With a
> pounding heart, Eleanor rose to her feet and announced she was going to
> retire.

TOM: Now *would* be the time to collect that pension fund and get the hell
out.

> As Gwendolynne remained seated, she said, "Would Lady Larousse care for
> escorting me to my room?"

CROW: Nudge nudge, wink wink.

> "Certainly, Milady."

(CROW & MIKE hoot.)
TOM: Male chauvinist pigs.
MIKE: Hi, I'm Kettle. You must be Pot. What did you say my color was again?

> Promptly Gwendolynne joined Eleanor and Galantine. The three women
> abandoned the hall, still full of guests who wouldn't dare to leave before
> the king did. With a hasty pace, the young women entered Eleanor's room,
> Galantine closing the door behind them.

CROW: Cue the silky saxes!
MIKE: Shut up! You're ruining the mood!

> "I knew it. I just knew it."
>
> "What, Milady?" Gwendolynne asked. "That I am a witch?"

TOM: The pointy hat could've been a fashion statement, but that broom gave
it away.

> "No, I just knew that Iago was setting up a trap. And I just fell in it."
>
> "Count Iago is a dangerous man.

CROW: Yes, with him around, everything becomes a cliche.

> But I am not worried. I will leave tomorrow."
>
> "Tomorrow?"

TOM: Is there an echo in here?

> "Yes, Milady. It's obvious your father will not keep his word. Thanks to
> Count Iago and his sharp tongue."

CROW: And curly moustache.
MIKE: OK, Crow, we get the picture now. Leave Iago alone.
CROW: Fine. But if Gwendolynne doesn't get to kill him, I'll be very
disappointed.

> Eleanor felt an invisible hand grip her heart. A chill of fear ran down
> her spine. Throwing herself at Gwendolynne's feet, she begged, "Please,
> don't leave. Please!"

CROW: *blinks* Errr.... Co-dependent much?

> Gwendolynne knelt before Eleanor, her attractive features, her shiny
> pastel eyes becoming worried. "Milady, I must go, or Count Iago will find
> a way to incriminate me

TOM: Discriminate, you mean.
CROW: The fiend.

> and send me to the Inquisition dungeons. I will not stand a chance if--"
>
> Suddenly, the three women gave a simultaneous start. Someone had given the
> door of the room three powerful knocks.

CROW: But the door didn't like them, and had them returned.
TOM: Knock knock.

> "Who is?" Eleanor asked, her breathing becoming ragged, painful.

CROW: Gay!
TOM: Gay who?

> "Gaydar, Milady. I respectfully request you to open the door."

(ALL fall over laughing.)
CROW: That never gets old, does it?
MIKE: Nope.

> Gaydar, Iago's esquire, a tall man with carrot hair and a nervous freckled
> face, Eleanor recollected. Rumors had it he was one of the many Iago's
> bastard sons.

MIKE: What, along with Butch and Queerio?

> "Leave, Gaydar. You are not allowed in. Leave, or I'll report you to my
> father."

CROW: And then you'll regret the day you ever came out of that closet.
MIKE: Careful, Crow. We don't want to get the Anti-Defamation League on our
backs.
TOM: Again.
MIKE: Again?!
TOM: Errr... you weren't there for that one. Let's leave it at that.

> "It was your father who sent me, Your Ladyship. I must come in."
>
> "For what reason?"
>
> There was a pause before Gaydar replied. "I must take Lady Larousse to the
> Tower. She will be tried for witchcraft within two days."

ALL: BOO!

> -----------------

TOM: Two days later...

> The Inquisition trial was swift and conclusive.

CROW (falsetto): I did not have sexual relations with that woman.

> Lady Gwendolynne of Larousse was guilty of witchcraft and consortium with
> the Unnamed One.

TOM: A consortium, no less.
MIKE: They set a new standard for evil together.

> Eleanor watched that mockery of a fair trial with anger and outrage. She
> recalled Gwendolynne's sad expression when she, the king's daughter, was
> expelled from the Holy Court by Friar Lavigne. Her protests were
> disrespectful, she was told. She had shouted out loud her indignation at
> the unfounded accusations and the ridiculous evidence supporting them.

MIKE: You go, girl!

> Gwendolynne was a witch because no woman could win a tournament against
> the best knights of the kingdom.

TOM: She turned me into a newt!

> Gwendolynne was a witch because she wanted to marry another woman.

MIKE: Conveniently ignoring that this would make the princess a witch too.
CROW: The day's still young, and there's plenty of wood.
TOM: A witch! A WIIIITCH!

> Gwendolynne was a witch because she dared cross-dress and deceive the king
> and the gentry of La Roche into believing she was a man when she was not.

CROW: Now, had she cross-dressed while *being* a man, things would have been
radically different...

> Her strength, her superb swordsmanship were clearly the work of the
> Unnamed One. It had to be.

TOM: Is the Unnamed One the author?
MIKE: I guess.

> From the small balcony of her room she could see the servants of the
> palace gathering a huge heap of dry firewood around the stake to where her
> beloved Gwendolynne would be tied. Dry wood would make sure smoke would
> not suffocate her before the flames burned her flesh and caused her
> unimaginable pain. Iago saw to that, Eleanor was sure of it.

TOM: Iago delenda est.
CROW: And now for those without a cuh-lassical education?
TOM: Let me put it this way: he ain't going to Disneyland if I have anything
to say about it.

> The princess sighed, staring at the donjon once more. Her teary eyes
> squinted, trying to discern Gwendolynne's beautiful face in the tiny
> window of her prison cell. She brought her trembling hands to her eyes,
> drying them off, fighting the sense of despair and powerlessness that kept
> gnawing at her without remorse.

CROW: I have a feeling I saw this in a movie once. Only Gwendolynne was
called Guinevere.
MIKE: And the princess was played by Richard Gere?
CROW: Yeah, the casting agency pretty much dropped the ball on that one.

> On the next day Eleanor awoke with a severe headache, feeling a strange
> pressure in her temples. She looked out the window and saw the dawn dyeing
> the sky blood red. It was appropriate as Gwendolynne would be burned at
> the stake at midday.

CROW: Cause the sky is red and all. Like fire.
MIKE: You mean blood.
CROW: I don't know *why* I bother.

> She had had a nightmarish night, had vomited, had stayed on her knees,
> praying for a miracle to happen. But the sun had risen and the miracle did
> not come to pass, yet. The `miracle' would eventually take place, though
> it would carry a dreadful price.

MIKE: Slaying of the firstborn males?
CROW: Yeah, that would be a real show-stopper in this story.
MIKE: Oops. Never mind.

> It was just a rumor at first, then it became a certainty. King Samuel and
> his army had invaded the Kingdom of La Roche. He came to avenge his son's
> death. The fight hadn't been fair -- a simple mortal against a witch.

MIKE: Oh, so first they can't believe it, then they actually claim it was
*unfair* that a woman fought a man?
CROW: Men are ignorant, short-sighted pigs.
TOM: Amen to that, brother.

> Eleanor's father sent ambassadors to appease his cousin, to barter the
> witch for Samuel's retreat, but the monarch of Bildstadt had them killed.

CROW: Wiping his behind with the white flag.
MIKE: After mooning the ambassadors first.

> When La Roche became under siege,

MIKE: Steven Seagal wanted in.

> panic and confusion broke out within the walls of the castle and the royal
> palace. Eleanor sent for Galantine. They were going to free Gwendolynne,
> even if that was the last thing they did. The siege was supposed to last
> months,

TOM: But Gwendolynne couldn't bear to be tied to the stake for that long...

> but it only took an hour before a traitor was able to lower the drawbridge
> and open the main gate. Iago... always him, Eleanor thought,

(MIKE is restraining CROW.)
MIKE: Shhh. Shhh. It's alright. It'll all work out in the end.

> as she ran to the secret passage leading to the donjon, only known by the 
> royal family members.
> 
> As Eleanor and Galantine burst in the main hall inside the donjon, a dozen
> of swords were unsheathed. Instantly Eleanor recognized Gaydar, the man in
> charge.

MIKE: We're done laughing?
CROW: I think so. We're down to muted sniggering over here.

> "Gaydar, my father has ordered the release of Lady Larousse. She must come
> with me, so that my father can negotiate with King Samuel."

MIKE: Fingers crossed.

> "It's too late for that," he said, trying to sound self-assured.

CROW (falsetto): It's too late...
CROW (bass): *cough* err, it's too late for that!

> "I know a secret way out. I will show it to you if you release
> Gwendolynne. Otherwise you will die as your father did, at the hands of
> King Samuel."
>
> "My father, Milady? What do you mean?"

MIKE: That's what we'd like to know.

> "Count Iago has just been killed by Samuel's men." And pointing to a
> loophole, Eleanor added, "Look outside and you'll see that I am telling
> you the truth."

CROW: BEHIND YOU!

> Gaydar's eyes obeyed, and the pale skin of the freckled man became even
> paler. A moment of hesitation came.

CROW: Hold on, you mean Iago's actually dead? For real? And we didn't even
get to see anything? And Gwendolynne had nothing to do with it? That makes
me so mad I could just...
MIKE: There there.

> Gaydar stared at his men, then at the expectant young women, while screams
> of horror and the clashing sounds of swords and armors reverberated from
> the outside through the naked walls of the donjon.

TOM: Were they usually clothed in rich tapestries or something?

> "Release the witch," he said, lowering his eyes as if to hide his anger. 
> "Release the goddamned witch."

MIKE: An appropriate adjective.

> It took an hour before the group of the three women and the twelve guards
> left the long secret tunnel. They looked around, realizing they were in
> the outskirts of the Wood of Sighs, an enchanted place where the Pixies
> lived.

(CROW blinks.)
MIKE: Don't ask.

> Eleanor turned toward the Castle of La Roche, gasping.
>
> "La Roche is on fire!" Galantine said in a lament. "Oh dear Lord!"
>
> When she saw the towering column of smoke billowing upwards, Eleanor
> screamed, "Mother! Father! My God! He killed them, he assassinated them.
> Oh God!"
>
> Gwendolynne did her best to calm a writhing Eleanor, feeling the pain her
> princess was bellowing out loud.

CROW: I really shouldn't disturb a sensitive moment like this...
MIKE: My God. You were going to make a joke about gas, weren't you?
CROW: Your words, not mine.
TOM: The humanity!

> She knew how it was like to lose both parents. She knew what the word
> `orphan' meant.

(TOM opens his mouth.)
MIKE: If the sentence you're about to say starts with "Webster" or "Oxford",
we're not interested.
(TOM closes his mouth and sulks.)

> At long last, Eleanor became quiet, being lulled into sleep by gentle
> shushing and soft singing of old troubadour songs in the arms of
> Gwendolynne.

CROW (singing): ...and did it oooouuuuur way!
MIKE (singing): And men... I've had a few... but then again...
ALL (singing): Too few to mention...

> -----------------
>
> After ten days and ten nights the three young women and their impromptu
> personal guard reached the Duchy of Larousse. With awe Eleanor saw how
> loved Gwendolynne was. Men and women, noblemen and peasants alike came to
> hail her welcome.

TOM: The witch! The witch has returned!
CROW: Cue the dancing midgets!

> The destruction of the Castle of La Roche was already known, and a
> clamor for retribution for La Roche's defeat could be heard everywhere.
> But revenge was not what worried Eleanor or Gwendolynne the most.

CROW: First l'amor, then the clamor.
MIKE: That's a horrible pun.
CROW: You're only incorriging me.
(MIKE is silent.)
TOM (incredulous): Look at that self-restraint. This man must be pulling a
muscle somewhere.
(MIKE twitches his nose.)

> After a long bath in the palace of Gwendolynne's forefathers the two women
> faced each other.

CROW: Cue the violins!

> "Eleanor."
>
> "Yes?"

CROW: I really shouldn't disturb a sensitive moment like this...
MIKE: I hate you.

> "Will you marry me?"
>
> Eleanor smiled, despite the sadness still weighing her heart down.
>
> "Will you?" Gwendolynne insisted.
>
(MIKE and CROW are holding each other.)

> "Yes, I will."

(ALL cheer. TOM openly sniffs.)

> It was Gwendolynne's turn to smile, clasping Eleanor's warmer hand in her
> hands. The kiss and the lovemaking would come later.
>
> THE END

[1..2..3..4..5..6]

CROW: BAH!
MIKE: What?
CROW: Never mind the lack of nookie. Why the hell wasn't Iago killed in a
spray of blood, gore, guts and decapitated heads?!
TOM: At least he died.
MIKE: King Samuel's still around. Not that we know anything about him.
Except that he's evil.
TOM: It'll all be worked out in the sequel.
MIKE: They've got to keep *some* marketing opportunities in reserve.
CROW: OK, I know the perfect beginning. Gwen and Elly are married and they
have a son...
TOM: A daughter!
CROW: No, that looks like gender bias. As I said, they've got a son, but
we're never told how they did this...
MIKE: The magic Pixies of the Enchanted Forest helped them!
CROW (reluctantly): Yeah, I guess they would have to fit in somewhere.
Alright. So, like, they've been warring on and off with the conquered
kingdom of La Rouche for a few years now...
MIKE: Why wouldn't either side win?
CROW: Because we need time for the son to grow up. I don't know; their
armies are equally matched or something. In any case, the son hits
puberty...
TOM: Do we really want to know where this is going?
CROW: What? Oh, come on guys, I was going to keep it real mature! Coming of
age psychological stuff and all!
MIKE: Yeah, right.
CROW: No, really! And he falls in love with King Samuel's daughter, but she
turns out to be gay, which he's cool with because of his liberal
upbringing...
(MIKE and TOM share a look.)
CROW: ...but the king's totally pissed off, so the son... Wait, I should
name him...
MIKE (straight-faced): Dildo?
TOM (singing): There was a couple had a son and Dildo was his name-o!
CROW: You're making a mockery out of this! A mockery!
MIKE: That's sort of the point.
CROW: Leave me, cretins! I've got a work of art to complete!
TOM: Let's go, Mike. There's no point talking to him when he's like this.
MIKE: Ah, I guess.
CROW: *muttering* And then one of Iago's bastard sons show up... To avenge
the death of his father? Naah, he's probably better off. Oh, wait! He could
be the intolerant pig who thinks homosexuality is a disease, and go for the
princess! And then... hmm...
(TOM and MIKE leave, shaking their heads.)

     \  |  /
      \ | /
       \|/
     ---O---
       /|\
      / | \
     /  |  \

"Enough, Gaydar. Not a word about that matter. Do you hear?"