It was just a village near the border of Uther’s Kingdom, but Merlin was getting worried that he and Arthur had stumbled off the map in more ways than one. When they arrived two men with large sticks stepped forwards.
“Who are you then?” one of them asked belligerently.
“I’m Prince Arthur Pendragon, son of King Uther.”
“Who’s he then?”
“King of Camelot.”
“Never heard of him.”
“He’s your King…” Arthur said, drawing himself up to his full height and looking as imperious as possible. He tried to ignore Merlin’s sniggering behind him. “I am here to…”
“We don’t have a King,” the second man interrupted. “We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune.”
“We have elected to leave the imperialistic dictatorship based on the tyranny of a self- perpetuating aristocracy who live off the labour of the working classes, who break their backs…”
“Look man,” Arthur snapped, his hand reaching for his sword.
“Woman,” the second woman corrected. Arthur and Merlin blinked and looked at her again, squinting to see past the blur of mud.
“Sorry,” the Prince said, a little awkwardly, “I am in the process of…”
“I should think you are sorry… you just come along here with your fancy sword and act as though you’re so superior.”
“I am a Prince,”
“Meaningless title based on a belief in a hereditary transferral of power…” The woman said with a sniff, the man beside her nodded in agreement. “That comes basically from an argument over who has the bigger sword. And that’s no basis for a system of government. Who voted for you, eh? I know I didn’t.”
“No one voted for me…”
“Then why should we listen to you? I refuse to acknowledge an authority I didn’t vote for!” Merlin could see the exact moment when Arthur’s temper snapped and he lunged forward to capture the man by his tunic, dragging him forwards and off his feet.
“Ah…” the man said, “now we see the violence inherent in the system!”
*
The next village was even worse. They seemed to have walked into one of the weirdest trials Merlin had ever seen.
When they first stepped into the scattering of huts and houses that made up the village they bumped into a man carrying a duck. Arthur had asked where everyone was, with his customary arrogance, and had been told that they had found a witch. Needless to say the pair of them had rushed onwards, only to see, when they had pushed through the crowds, a young woman standing in the centre of the villagers, a parsnip held onto her nose with string and a hat perched on her head. It was a very witchy looking hat.
“What… ?” Arthur began, and the crowd was more than happy to oblige.
“She’s a witch…”
“Witches burn.”
“So does wood.”
“So witches are made of wood.”
“And wood floats on water.”
“So do ducks.”
“So if she weighs the same as a duck then she’s a witch.”
“And we can burn her!” The last line was said with glee by the entire assembly, and Arthur paled slightly. Merlin looked frantically for a way out. If he was careful, he might be able to free all three of them without revealing his magic.
But to his surprise, the people led the woman over to what appeared to be a giant version of the tiny weighing scales that Gaius used to measure out herbs for his medicines. They pushed her in one side and shoved the duck in the other, then pulled back the supports and the whole village watched with bated breath as the contraption seesawed one way and another until it came to rest, exactly level.
The woman shrugged, as the crowd yelled with delight. A couple of children hurried off to make the pyre, skipping with seeming joy. Merlin felt sick to his stomach.
Arthur pushed his way through the people until he was standing by the woman. Seeing his sword and his stance, the crowd ground to a halt.
“You call that evidence? What has this woman done? How did she use magic?” There was silence. “Just because she weighs the same as a duck?” The woman looked at him in confusion.
“It’s only logical,” she said with another shrug. “tough luck though.”
“You want to be burnt?” Merlin asked, stepping forwards. She didn’t even blinked.
“Can’t argue with the law.”
The crowd hurried her onwards and Arthur and Merlin were left staring at their retreating backs.
“Don’t even think of saying anything Merlin,” the Prince warned.
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timeasmymeasure
I got a little carried away... I am so sorry!
Date: 2009-04-13 07:53 pm (UTC)“Who are you then?” one of them asked belligerently.
“I’m Prince Arthur Pendragon, son of King Uther.”
“Who’s he then?”
“King of Camelot.”
“Never heard of him.”
“He’s your King…” Arthur said, drawing himself up to his full height and looking as imperious as possible. He tried to ignore Merlin’s sniggering behind him. “I am here to…”
“We don’t have a King,” the second man interrupted. “We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune.”
“We have elected to leave the imperialistic dictatorship based on the tyranny of a self- perpetuating aristocracy who live off the labour of the working classes, who break their backs…”
“Look man,” Arthur snapped, his hand reaching for his sword.
“Woman,” the second woman corrected. Arthur and Merlin blinked and looked at her again, squinting to see past the blur of mud.
“Sorry,” the Prince said, a little awkwardly, “I am in the process of…”
“I should think you are sorry… you just come along here with your fancy sword and act as though you’re so superior.”
“I am a Prince,”
“Meaningless title based on a belief in a hereditary transferral of power…” The woman said with a sniff, the man beside her nodded in agreement. “That comes basically from an argument over who has the bigger sword. And that’s no basis for a system of government. Who voted for you, eh? I know I didn’t.”
“No one voted for me…”
“Then why should we listen to you? I refuse to acknowledge an authority I didn’t vote for!” Merlin could see the exact moment when Arthur’s temper snapped and he lunged forward to capture the man by his tunic, dragging him forwards and off his feet.
“Ah…” the man said, “now we see the violence inherent in the system!”
*
The next village was even worse. They seemed to have walked into one of the weirdest trials Merlin had ever seen.
When they first stepped into the scattering of huts and houses that made up the village they bumped into a man carrying a duck. Arthur had asked where everyone was, with his customary arrogance, and had been told that they had found a witch. Needless to say the pair of them had rushed onwards, only to see, when they had pushed through the crowds, a young woman standing in the centre of the villagers, a parsnip held onto her nose with string and a hat perched on her head. It was a very witchy looking hat.
“What… ?” Arthur began, and the crowd was more than happy to oblige.
“She’s a witch…”
“Witches burn.”
“So does wood.”
“So witches are made of wood.”
“And wood floats on water.”
“So do ducks.”
“So if she weighs the same as a duck then she’s a witch.”
“And we can burn her!” The last line was said with glee by the entire assembly, and Arthur paled slightly. Merlin looked frantically for a way out. If he was careful, he might be able to free all three of them without revealing his magic.
But to his surprise, the people led the woman over to what appeared to be a giant version of the tiny weighing scales that Gaius used to measure out herbs for his medicines. They pushed her in one side and shoved the duck in the other, then pulled back the supports and the whole village watched with bated breath as the contraption seesawed one way and another until it came to rest, exactly level.
The woman shrugged, as the crowd yelled with delight. A couple of children hurried off to make the pyre, skipping with seeming joy. Merlin felt sick to his stomach.
Arthur pushed his way through the people until he was standing by the woman. Seeing his sword and his stance, the crowd ground to a halt.
“You call that evidence? What has this woman done? How did she use magic?” There was silence. “Just because she weighs the same as a duck?” The woman looked at him in confusion.
“It’s only logical,” she said with another shrug. “tough luck though.”
“You want to be burnt?” Merlin asked, stepping forwards. She didn’t even blinked.
“Can’t argue with the law.”
The crowd hurried her onwards and Arthur and Merlin were left staring at their retreating backs.
“Don’t even think of saying anything Merlin,” the Prince warned.