The Verye Secrete Diaryes of the Knightes of the Rounde Table
Continues
With:
The Verye Secrete Diarie of Sir Tristram de Lyoness
Day 1
Today my stepbrother dropped dead in the nursery. Was v. surprised -- itÕs never happened before.
I wonder if it had anything to do with that strange green liquid that he drank...
Day 2
Oh. Turns out that my step mom poisoned my brother. She was trying to get me, it turns out. Oh well. She should know by know that nothing can defeat me, 11-year-old Tristram that I am. I mean, how can you kill someone named Tristram?
Anyway, will plead for her life, nice guy that I am. Never did like my stepbrother, anyway.
Day 123
Oops. My dad decided to bundle me off to France for some reason. I canÕt see why. All I did was ask if we were there yet... 2341 times....
Day 2678
Returned to my fatherÕs court now. IÕm now 18, big, handsome, and skilled in the arts of barony. At least, thatÕs what my friend Sir Malory says.
But I do rock. And I can play the harp really well.
Later
My stepmother, at least, appreciates me...
Day 2680
The king of Ireland sent a nice letter to my uncle, King Mark. He wants our money.
DidnÕt even know there was a king in Ireland. I thought they were still ruled by Leprechauns. Or at least that one guy... Chuchulain. Anyway, stupid Irish king.
Marky wants us to send a champion to beat up the stupid Irish kingÕs messenger.
Guess I could do it. IÕll only be up against the second best knight ever.
Hey, Lancelot could do it.
Day 2683
My brilliant uncle-saving plan couldnÕt have come at a better time. Some French chick keeps writing me, begging to marry me. Here comes another one.
Must go.
Day 2890
Got knighted by my uncle. Now IÕm Sir Tristram de Lyoness. Do I rock or do I rock?
Day 2891
Ha! Beat that Irish knight. Go me.
Day 2895
Darn. That stupid Irish knight hurt me pretty badly. Now IÕm getting shipped off to Ireland for treatment. Stupid knight.
Later
Am a little bit worried about this whole Irish medicine thing. I never heard that Chuchulain was much of a doctor.
Day 2900
Crap! Am in castle of the stupid Irish king. Must change my name to something thatÕs not obvious.
Oh, I know! IÕll go as Tramtrist. Get it? ItÕs Tristram, backwards. I love my brain.
ThatÕll fool everybody.
Day 2901
I didnÕt know that they had female doctors in Ireland. My doctorÕs name is Iseult the Fair, and sheÕs the prettiest little thing I ever did see. If only I could pronounce her name.
Day 2903
Am cured! And that Iselute? Isulet? Iseult? SheÕs the daughter of the stupid Irish king. But I think that she likes me. IÕm teaching her to play the harp.
Day 2905
Some Saracen named Sir Palomides came to court today. Says heÕs from Iraq. Weird.
I think he has his eyes on my bonnie Irish rose. HeÕd better be careful.
Day 2910
Iseult wants me to joust at this tournament thingy. This is great. I could wind up killing that Saracen.
Of course, my wound hasnÕt entirely healed...
Oh, well.
Day 2911
Dang, my coverÕs blown. The French chickÕs henchman is here. He recognizes me.
Day 2913
The tournament was today. I knighted the henchman, and I beat Palomides! Now the stupid Saracen canÕt look at her ever again!
Day 2915
Now my coverÕs really blown. The queen knows who I am, and so does the king, and so does Iseult!
Fortunately, the king has decided to be nice. HeÕs let me go back home to England.
But now I have to leave the fair Iseult, and right after I won her. I shall always be true to her, my bonnie Irish rose. Farewell my own... light of my life, farewell!
Day 2916
IÕm back at home with my uncle. Yay. I miss my love, Iseult....
Marky doesnÕt seem to like me, though...
To be continued, because the ÒBook of Sir Tristram de LyonessÓ is about 200 pages long.
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Oh, again, the above is based on MALORYÕS ÒLe Morte dÕArthur,Ó which is, I believe, way better than the recent movie. ÒLe Morte dÕArthurÓ belongs to Sir Thomas Malory, who has been dead for many centuries.
b ÒI praye you all jentylmen and jentylwymmen that redeth this book of Arthur and his knyghtes... praye for me whyle I am on lyve.... And whan I am deed, I pray you all praye for my soule.Ó /b
-- Sir Thomas Malory
