Lessons Learned
The squire finished his tale with a melodious strum on his insturment and
looked at his audience expectantly. The nun was the first to applaud the
tragic love story which the youth had spun. All followed suit, save the
Squire's father, the Knight. He sat resolutely, with his arms across his
massive chest, and a sorrowful light in his eye. He finally spoke up, "That tale was not befitting a man of the sword, my son. If you are to
ever become a knight, you must stop thinking about women and concentrate on
more important matters." The Squire looked downcast and put away his
insturment. "Yes," I said, "and what was the lesson we should have learned?" The youth cast about quickly. His eyes fell upon the nun's silver arm band
and he read the instciption. "Amor vincit omnia" he said in the grandest tone
his young voice could muster. "Do you even know what that means boy?" asked the sagacious Cleric, with
some distaste. "Love conqueres all." said the Squire in his most condescending voice, "And
I'll thank you not to call me boy, you pompus old twit." They broke into a
lengthy arguement over the whole thing until the Knight spoke again.
"Silence you two," he said, rising to enphasize his words, "I have my own
tale to tell." And so, he began... One evening, a skilled woodsman happened upon two knights doing battle.
One was clad in black armor, the other, in white. They seemed to be in
competition for a young maiden standing nearby. The sun had just set, and it
was rather dark. The two combatants had just finished a joust, lances clashing
against shields. The one in black, obviously more skilled, had unseated the
one in white. The black knight circled his horse to finish off his opponent,
who was now rising rom the ground, and trying to unsheath his blade. The black
knight threw down his jousting lance and took up the great double edged battle
axe strapped to his saddle. He charged the man on foot, and would have salin
him. However, as he bore down upon the white knight, the woodsman decided to
even the odds. He had readied his bow, aimed, and let fly all in one fluid
motion. He already had a second arrow knocked to the string, but it wasn't
nessesary. The first arrow had found its mark, burrying itself deep into the
black knight's right arm. The white knight, seeing his opportunity, finally
unsheathed his weapon and lunged at his opponent. The black's charger,
frightened by the white knight's sudden assault, reared frantiquely. The
mounted knight fell to earth, the shaft of the arrow breaking and twisting
painfully in his arm. Blood spilled from the wound, filling the underpadding
of his armor with bright red pools of life...and then the black knight fell
unconscious, his opponent standing gleefully over him. The last sounds to
penatrate his throbbing head were the screams of his wife, being carried
by his malicious opponent...The knight's head had drooped at these last lines, but he raised it again,
proudly, "My lesson is to never judge a book by its cover, nor a knight by his
armor." Though his back was still straight and proud, the pain of loss was
now appearent in his mornful eyes.The nun gasped in astonishment, "YOU, were the black knight? My lord, I
had no idea. I'm so sorry.""Not as sorry as I my lady," spoke the yeoman, "For it was my arrow what
felled this brave knight. After I nursed his wounds, and he told me of what
I had done, I pledged my life to him.""Revenge is not a knightly virtue," said the knight, bitterly."I am sworn to track down the swine who stole, rapped, and murdered this
man's wife. And once a year, I must travel with him and his son to
Canturbury, to ask God for forgiveness. I will never act upon my prejudices
again."Silence reigned over the camp for many minutes as the fellow travelers took
in the relevence of the tale. Then, I slowly began to applaud...
