Wherin we learn of the true and heroic deeds accomplished by Sir Knight in the Adventure of the Impounded Poncho
Note: I began writing this story intending it to mock the Lost and Found post. I have not written it to the conclusion I had in mind when I started it, but, because I will write no more, you may want to read it.
Upon a fine day early in spring do we find Don Tomazic, the Knight of the Gnarled Beard, and his droll squire Sanza Poncho a-trekking through the forest as teacher and student studying the bountiful table that does nature spread before the man who longs - as did Sir Leopold - to gather his meat from God.
"Take heed of this delicate flower, O Poncho, which the Wise name spring beauty for it harbingers the arrival of that season of birth, and, like all heralds of good news, is a thing fair to behold. The coin-shaped corm buried inches in the dirt is a hearty starch like unto a potato."
"Surely do I know this flower and its starchy root for as a boy did I spend many a springy afternoon digging these from the ground. But, the corms are so small as to be of little worth in satisfying the hunger as has a man like me who toils in the fields under Hot Sun."
"Yet, did you live in the cool shade of the wood and spend your days listening to the drum of Woodpecker and relaxing your feet in the current of Cool Stream, would you find that such meals you deem hearty do little more than stress your already over-worked bowels. Is it not written that man needs more to eat than bread from the table?"
"With certainty it is written, but I cannot eat the Word - leastways not with mine mouth. And, at the end of the day I would have rather a full stomach of bread and mutton than a full head of verse. Remember, too, that the body is only a vehicle for the soul, and without the body the soul must depart. Why then should I put in jeopardy this machine that keepeth me so literally grounded?"
"Because to fill your belly morning, noon and night is to forget your humanity. You are more than a soul indeed, and whilst you are such do not try to satisfy your body so as to forget its existence. More to the point, Poncho, I urge your satisfaction despite the state of your body. Such a concept is understood by those who profess knight errantry, like myself, for we often must travel into the wilderness in search of adventure - a giant to slay or a spell to be broken - wherein our liveliness must be sustained on a handful of leaves and roots daily. Further, when the time comes to defend honor, no provisions for a lengthy meal are arranged. Rather must we spring into action for victory or shame without heed to a light stomach. So, my dear Poncho, you see that a knight errant must find his food where he may and take his nourishment from those high ideals which satisfy more deeply than does bread."
"If that is so, than knight errantry is not the profession for me! I will stay a squire where I may fill my belly with meat and my mind with humor. And as for the hardships of the knight's road, remember that a squire eats from his masters table. That is, if you walk into the wilderness to eat leaves and roots, I know that my plate will be full of much the same. And at the end of the day, a good deed in hand is worth naught on the plate, so that we may spend our lives pursuing honor and receive no life in return."
"And that is the mystery of life. And were it mine to trade, I would do it not, for what else do I know? O Sancho, surely Fate is kind. At Her will, let me live until comes death, and in the meantime hold fast to those ideals that move me."
Here did their conversation cease for before them appeared ...
Upon a fine day early in spring do we find Don Tomazic, the Knight of the Gnarled Beard, and his droll squire Sanza Poncho a-trekking through the forest as teacher and student studying the bountiful table that does nature spread before the man who longs - as did Sir Leopold - to gather his meat from God.
"Take heed of this delicate flower, O Poncho, which the Wise name spring beauty for it harbingers the arrival of that season of birth, and, like all heralds of good news, is a thing fair to behold. The coin-shaped corm buried inches in the dirt is a hearty starch like unto a potato."
"Surely do I know this flower and its starchy root for as a boy did I spend many a springy afternoon digging these from the ground. But, the corms are so small as to be of little worth in satisfying the hunger as has a man like me who toils in the fields under Hot Sun."
"Yet, did you live in the cool shade of the wood and spend your days listening to the drum of Woodpecker and relaxing your feet in the current of Cool Stream, would you find that such meals you deem hearty do little more than stress your already over-worked bowels. Is it not written that man needs more to eat than bread from the table?"
"With certainty it is written, but I cannot eat the Word - leastways not with mine mouth. And, at the end of the day I would have rather a full stomach of bread and mutton than a full head of verse. Remember, too, that the body is only a vehicle for the soul, and without the body the soul must depart. Why then should I put in jeopardy this machine that keepeth me so literally grounded?"
"Because to fill your belly morning, noon and night is to forget your humanity. You are more than a soul indeed, and whilst you are such do not try to satisfy your body so as to forget its existence. More to the point, Poncho, I urge your satisfaction despite the state of your body. Such a concept is understood by those who profess knight errantry, like myself, for we often must travel into the wilderness in search of adventure - a giant to slay or a spell to be broken - wherein our liveliness must be sustained on a handful of leaves and roots daily. Further, when the time comes to defend honor, no provisions for a lengthy meal are arranged. Rather must we spring into action for victory or shame without heed to a light stomach. So, my dear Poncho, you see that a knight errant must find his food where he may and take his nourishment from those high ideals which satisfy more deeply than does bread."
"If that is so, than knight errantry is not the profession for me! I will stay a squire where I may fill my belly with meat and my mind with humor. And as for the hardships of the knight's road, remember that a squire eats from his masters table. That is, if you walk into the wilderness to eat leaves and roots, I know that my plate will be full of much the same. And at the end of the day, a good deed in hand is worth naught on the plate, so that we may spend our lives pursuing honor and receive no life in return."
"And that is the mystery of life. And were it mine to trade, I would do it not, for what else do I know? O Sancho, surely Fate is kind. At Her will, let me live until comes death, and in the meantime hold fast to those ideals that move me."
Here did their conversation cease for before them appeared ...
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