Sir Geordie And The Worm

                                                                                        

             Not trusting the Norman’s offer of hospitality I left soon afterwards, spent the night at a roadside inn and by mid morning had reached the river Wear. As I skirted the hamlet of Penshaw the countryside became heavily wooded and the road that paralleled the river passed into and out of shadows as it wound it’s way southwards. Without warning the trees opened up into a large clearing and I was half across when a voice from behind called out, ‘Hey you!’

The voice that of a woman; very young and very demanding by the sounds of it, cut through the still air like a dagger, if there’s one thing I can not stand it is a bossy woman, so I ignored her and continued my journey at the same plodding pace.

‘Hey you, the fellow on the white horse.’

Well if there is anything I hate, it is being called, fellow, I felt like giving her a thump, but I had a long way to go and besides the laws of chivalry didn’t allow for striking a maiden, so I kept on going, thinking she would give up and let me be; no such luck.

‘Hey you with the pot on his head, I am talking to you.’

Pot! Pot! That did it; no one insults a Knight of the realm like that, ‘It’s a bloody helmet, when did you ever see a pot with a visor and feathers sticking out of the top.’ I shouted as I turned and froze. Before me stood a vision of loveliness, long blond hair and a white dress that was belted at the waist, by a band of cornflowers that were as bright and as blue a the eyes that met mine. I fell in love there and then and blushed with shame at having shouted at one so fair.

‘Aye what can I help you with, Mistress,’

I called her mistress because it was obvious from her appearance and imperious manner that she was no lowly maid. Mind, I did wonder at her being alone, it was rare to see a lady of quality without a least one or two fawning fops dancing attendance.

‘You name, Sir Knight, if you please,’ she demanded.

‘Sir George, but my friends call me Geordie.’

‘Well Sir George, I am lady Rowena, niece to Sir Hugh of Lambton and I need a brave knight to rescue me from the Worm.’

I was disappointed that she hadn not called me Geordie, but hope springs eternal, as me granny used to say.

‘Show me the worm, My Lady and I’ll have Lightning here to flatten it,’

Lightning snorted as if to say, “Aye that’ll be right,” and broke wind, a natural thing for a horse, but Lady Rowena gave me such a look of blame that I was forced to apologise on his behalf.

‘Apology accepted Sir George, but the worm is a giant beast that has just eaten Charles and William my escorts. It also terrorises the countryside and feeds on calves and lambs and sheep and swallows little bairns alive when they lay down to sleep.’

Now the other thing I can not abide is an uppity beast terrorising folks, so I asked her to lead me to its den, which she did. After making sure Lady Rowena was well hidden behind a tree I approached the lair and commanded the vile creature to appear. With an earth trembling roar the creature burst forth and reared its ugly head, it had great big teeth, and a great big gob and great big goggly eyes. Kicking back my heels I charged in and after a fearsome battle lobed off its head and cut it in two. With the task done I returned to the tree and lifting the simpering Lady Rowena onto my charger rode off into the sunset, or would have, if the other knight had not appeared.

‘It’s my cousin Sir John, newly home from the crusades and he doesn’t look very please.’ Rowena cried.

To say he was not pleased was an understatement, he was totally miffed and I could not say I blamed him. Apparently it was his fault the worm was there in the first place and as a matter of honour he had travel all the way back from Palestine, to put paid to the monstrous beast.

‘What am I to do now?’ he wailed.

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