My Knight in Shining Armor

*~ Disclaimer ~* I do not own any of the characters, language, plots, or locations from A Knight’s Tale.
Brian Helgeland, the writer/director, holds all rights to A Knight’s Tale and this story is only created for pleasure, not profit.

Author’s Note: I am so glad that this site stayed alive. I love how it gives us freedom of expression and it is a wonderful outlet as well as practice for my writing. Hopefully, we will continue with this site for years to come. Also, I was planning to wait on posting this story until I had it all done, but I got too impatient. ^_^' This just means that the chapters will come out somewhat slowly, please excuse my laziness! And of course, please enjoy.


My Knight in Shining Armor

Geoffrey Chaucer was trudging. Dirty, tired, and utterly miserable, he felt as though he could drop right where he was and never rise to meet the light of day again. He supposed the situation warranted something poetic and beautiful, a spout of gorgeous lyrics of woe and misfortune, but right now he had no audience and simply felt… low. A stir of voices and the chopping of horse’s hooves echoed ahead of him and he steeled himself for the embarrassment ahead. Geoff saw the shadows of the men, two on the ground and one on the horse, all arguing. They looked rather scruffy, so he figured that they had been traveling for quite a while, rather odd for peasant folk… But it wasn’t quite as bad as his own position, he supposed. He passed them, patting the horse and wished them a good morning, trying to quickly move on his way.

“Why, sir.” Pause. “What are you doing?”

Ah, so one of them decided to address him. Not too surprising, given his current state was one of undress. He’d had many comments and sneering thugs as of late. Hopefully they wouldn’t be inclined to beat him, like the group before last. With a look back, he answered.

“Ah, trudging.” Pause. What, were these men idiots? Geoff snickered to himself, thinking they looked like a bunch of gaping fish. “You know, trudging. To trudge. To trudge, the slow, weary, depressing, yet determined, walk of a man who has nothing left in his life except the impulse to simply soldier on.”

He turned to walk away again and was stopped by the next inquiry.

“Well, were you robbed?”

Mildly embarrassed by his nudity, Geoff turned to look at the speaker, the very same that had spoken to him before. He was the blonde one, the one on the horse. The man had an honest sort of face, Geoff was surprised to see concern there. That was something new to add to the reactions he had seen today.

“Uh, interesting question actually, yes, and at the same time a huge, resounding no. It’s more sort of an involuntary vow of poverty, really. But you know, on the brighter side, trudging does represent pride. Pride, resolve, and faith in the Good Lord Almighty. Please, Christ, rescue me from my contribulations.”

“Who are ya?”

Ah, the other one speaks. This man was more portly, but asked the question in a practical manner, a gainer of information, Geoff thought. Well, perhaps he could give them a little culture along with his prior English and Philosophy lessons.

“Lily emintus finis. The Lily Among the Thorns. Geoffrey Chaucer’s the name. Writings the game.” Pause. Now that was a harsh blow to his pride. Not even a flicker of recognition! “Chaucer? Geoffrey Chaucer, the writer?” What an insult! What an outrage that they had not heard of him!

“A what?” The third one asked.

Oh. That explained a lot. “A what? A what?! A writer! You know, I write with ink and parchment. For a penny I scribble ya anything you want from Summonses to Creeds, Edicts, Warrants, Patents of Nobility. I’ve even been known to jot down a poem or two if the muse descends. You’ve probably read my book, the Book of the Duchess?” Pause. Well, at least now he wasn’t expecting much of this ragged bunch. “Yes, well, it was allegorical.”

“Well, we won’t hold that against you, that’s for each man to decide for himself.” Ah, yes. Very funny, Mr. Practical. Way to save yourself from being viewed as ignorant.

“Did you say Patents of Nobility?”

Now that was interesting. Perhaps he had more to gain from this bunch than he originally thought. The lad’s face certainly was interested, try as he might to remain aloof. “Yes. That’s right I did. And you gentlemen are?”

“Well. Well, I am Sir Ulrich Van Lichtenstein from Gelderland. And these here are my faithful squires; Delves of Dodgington and Faulherst of Crew.” The blonde thought he was convincing? Geoff could barely control himself and the laughter and sarcasm spilled out into the air.

“I’m Richard the Lionheart, pleased to meet you. No, wait a minute! I’m Charlemagne! No I’m Saint John the—” And suddenly he meets the ground again. ‘Oh earth, how I missed thee,’ he mused. Ouch. The blonde may look delicate and open, but he certainly had his claws.

“Alright. Hold your tongue sir, or lose it.” One could almost be frightened of those blue eyes, Geoff certainly felt something but he chose not to look into it too much and prove his point.

“You see, now that, I do believe, Sir Ulrich.” A little force goes a long way, Mr. Wannabe-Knight. Geoff grinned.

“Thank you. Geoff.” He backed up and stalked over to his friends, keeping eye contact for quite a bit.

“Have you any more to say Master Nude or having failed your test may we be on our way?” And now they come to the good part, Geoff thought. He made himself comfortable, or as comfortable as he could be naked and on the ground.

“Oh, you’re off to the tournament, are you?” He tried to sound casual, and hoped that they would be able to catch the subtlety later.

“This is the road to Rouen, isn’t it?”

“Well, you know, that really remains to be seen. See they’re limiting the field at Rouen. Noble birth must be established for four generations on either side of the family. Patents of Nobility must be provided.” Pause. Obviously the subtlety was lost on them for now, but he could always tell them later if they helped him move along. “Listen, clothe me, shoe me, for god’s sake feed me, let me ride that horse a bit and you’ll have your patents.”

The ruffians muttered amongst themselves for a while. Geoff tried to hear them, but still waited fairly patiently for the verdict. Mutters of, “We need him… Be nice,” were heard next and Geoff tried not to look overly smug. The third lad, a tall redhead began to walk over to Geoff. This one didn’t seem to have the practicality of the second one, nor the open-faced look of the first. No, this one reminded Geoff more of the group that had used him as a punching bag briefly. But he seemed mostly harmless and a little dimwitted, to be quite frank.

“Nice… nice, nice. All right, uh, betray us, and I will fong you until your insides are out, your outsides are in, your entrails will become your extrails. I will break… all the… Pain. Lots of pain.” As he was talking, Geoff could not keep the befuddled look off of his face. ‘I know he’s trying to talk to me, but I don’t know what on earth he’s speaking,’ he thought, amused. ‘Like conversing with a child, what have I got into, now?’

***

After a rather pleasant performance for the gatekeepers of Rouen, Geoff was pleased that everything went through. He was indeed the greatest of the greats. As he walked up to the newly knighted blonde, William he was called, Geoff was extraordinarily pleased at the startled and ecstatic look on William’s face. “I couldn’t believe it, you did it Chaucer! I have to thank you, I didn’t believe we had a chance.” Oh! Geoff could see some dice-throwers off the side. Back to reality, he answered.

“My pleasure, William. Now if you don’t mind, I think I’ll stick around and see how things turn out.” He really had to wonder if the lad was any good or if he was just chasing the wind.

“Act as my herald and you will receive your share of the winnings.” Well, now. Another chance to display his poetic genius? Of course!

“Done. Now if you don’t mind, I have to go see a man about a dog.” And he strolled around, looking for the best place to up his earnings a little bit. Perhaps they had some higher stakes dice in the alleys?…

***

Well this was an embarrassing situation, Geoff mused. Not two hours of clothes when they’re taken off his back again. He had sent the man for his new “master,” the honorable Sir Ulrich, in hopes that he might be able to be clothed once more. Geoff did tend to miss the feel of cloth against his skin at times. It was a rather royal feeling, to have pants and a shirt. The debt man came back in with William, and Geoff was surprised to find himself feel rather ashamed at the look in his eyes.

A simple statement from William, “You were never robbed, were you?”

Rather flustered by his unexpected shame, Geoff scrambled to explain. “Look, I have a gambling problem. I can’t help myself. And these people, they’ll quite literally take the clothes off your back.” Perhaps William would at least appreciate the humor of the situation. But Geoff’s hopes were rather dashed at his next words.

“What do you expect us to do about it?”

“He assured us you, his Liege, would pay us.” That horrible, blasted hellhound, Geoff cursed silently. He didn’t need to sound so… happy about the situation. He watched William turn his eyes to the man.

“And who are you?”

“Peter. A humble pardoner and purveyor of religious relics.” ‘Pardoner? I sincerely doubt it,’ Geoff thought.

“How much does he owe you?” At least William decided to ask the damage. Perhaps he would help.

“Ten gold florins.” The stunned and annoyed look on his face said enough.

“You lanky git!” The redhead, Wat, turned out to be the beater after all. Geoff always did have a good sense of character. He put up some struggle to control the fiery man.

“Hey, hey, hey Wat. Let him go.” At least William had a sense of honor. That was more than he could say for some of the other knights. But would it be enough? May as well let them know it hurt, he was already down as low as he could get, standing there, being beaten naked.

“Ow!”

“What would you do to him if I was to refuse?” Those words. They cut to Geoff like a knife through air. Refuse? Could he? Would he?… He met William’s eyes, surprised to see that open face looking so closed to him.

“We, on behalf of the lord God, would take it from his flesh, so that he may understand that gambling is a sin.”

On second thought, there was a new low. Geoff realized that he wasn’t above begging at this point. The mere feel of the debtor’s staff against his shoulder was more painful than being forced to stand in the nude. Geoff could handle words, he wasn’t really a man of pain. “Oh, come on. Please Will—Please will you help me, Sir Ulrich? I promise you won’t regret it.”

“I don’t have the money.” And the moment of defeat, which felt worse than William’s implied refusal. His head lowered, unable to take the condemnation of William’s words. Pause. “Release him, and for God’s sake give him back his clothes and you’ll get it.” Geoff looked up at this knight in front of him, amazed that Will would take on debt to have him out of it. He looked in sincerest gratitude at his savior.

“Done.”

Geoff whispered a silent “Thank you,” to Will, and felt a new sense of duty overcome him. A sense that if Will really did well in the tournament, Geoff would take him on as his new Lord. And if the tournament did not go well, he would simply travel with him to repay this debt.

***