Werewolf the Podcast: Good Knight Wolf. (Episode 210)

We have travelled back in time to the medieval period to share a story with William Marshall and his crew. As you probably know, William Marshal was known to be the greatest knight ever to live, and we can tell you why. He was a Werewolf. Yes, Fenrir, our wolf soul, has been in a number of humans' lives, and one of them and one of the most famous ones was the Marshal of England. So come and join the gang—William, Percy, Lord of Northumberland, and Gervais de Montagne in their next adventure. 

The last time we met them, they had just killed a dragon, and as a side note, they had also killed the Count de Perigord and his daughter after the man had lied to them. This time, the new Count de Perigord, direct descendant of Charlemagne, is trying to exact his revenge. I besiege you to listen. (That joke will make sense eventually, I promise.)

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Transcript

Percy.

As you know, my fame has lasted through the ages. It is with humility I admit to who I am. My name is Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland. I know the name of a legend in all of Christendom, if not the whole known world. Just in case you have been under a rock and never heard of me. I will give you a humble description of myself.

Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, is... let me consider this. Let me use the words of others, not myself. Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, is known as the greatest of knights by all knights that would take the field. This is embarrassingly true but embarrassingly embarrassing to one who hides his light beneath a bushel like myself.

Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, often gets through his battles without contest, as the enemy would rather run than face him. I know. I can clear a field of enemies just by my mere presence. I often have to take the war to those before me as they run. Mercy is often my grace.

The Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, for his sins, which are few, as he is such a pious man. Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, is also reputed to be the greatest bard of his generation. If not, ever, actually. Even the noble Lutier James de Hendrix has left a laurel of appreciation at my toes after a rendition I gave. 

I know, people are so very kind to my simple, dextrous fingers and incredible vocal range. Every court Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, enters forces him to play until his fingers bleed upon the strings and his voice goes horse, which I willingly do. Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, does it for the people. Why would Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, rob them of his God-given angelic voice and musical talent? That would be cruel.

Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, is regarded to be the greatest of lovers. This, of course, is only rumour and hearsay as the man himself is chivalrous and chaste in the eyes of God. Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, would like to quash these alleged stories of him being a lion in the bedroom, for example. Recently, Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, had to tell all he knew and then deny that he had not lain with five ladies of the French King's court in one evening. That he had not satisfied them time after time, again and again. He then had to refute that though he was exhausted and wishing just for sleep, that he was summoned to the Queen's bed chamber for... 

Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, will not lower himself to describe what has been said about his interaction with the Queen. That is the measure of the man. She is a good Godly woman, and Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, does not think that she would be capable of such sexual licentious acts and debauchery as those vouchsafed by her maidservants. Even the King removes his eye from Lord Percy of Northumberland in this case as he knows that he would never serve his Queen like Lord Percy of Northumberland can. 

Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, as you can well imagine of a man such as he, does his best to stop these dreadful lies but can only do his best to hide the fact that Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, is worshipped by females who wish to satisfy his needs wherever he goes. 

These are all crosses that one such as I, Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, has to bear. A man often has to wear a suit of greatness to support those who need him around them. This I do for my simple followers, bringing them great joy and a fame that they oft do not deserve. 

Let me introduce my fellows. You probably have never heard of them as their deeds are often an aside to my own, but, and I mean this in the strongest of resolves, they are true heroes when under my clever and competent instruction.

Let me introduce first. William Marshal, a hedge knight. He has become a little of a legend in the world. With my support he is known to be a great tournament knight, a fellow dragon slayer and a werewolf. Yes, you heard Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, right? A Werewolf. I know. How does he control that wickedness that resides in his soul? Yet again, with Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberlands, Help

Yes, he is a thing of evil, but with my guidance and constant support, I have managed to keep him on the path of righteousness. He often thanks me for keeping him in God's light. Tears of joy are shed in gratitude to Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, as I keep him just and true. 

God will forgive, and God will use his possession, directed by Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, to do good in this base world. He, in his life, has a wolf soul named Fenrir. Yes, it is a name from pagan times, but I have managed to subdue those pagan rights and to bring about a bright Christian charity from what was once obviously an evil most profound. 

My second is Gervais. With me steering his righteous path, he has achieved much in his life. A great fighter, although somewhat of a braggart, he is much like my sword. A weapon to do great things. Although, like a weapon, he has to be wielded correctly to gain distinction. He often takes my brave and righteous actions as his own. I do not steal these moments from him; it would serve me not. And, one such as I, Lord Percy Duke of Northumberland, needs no more fame than I already have. He does have certain qualities that I find difficult to curb.

His fondness for wine and women is a daily struggle that we undertake together to keep him from. I know, I know, you must be thinking that Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, is a great friend and supporter to those friends. Yes, you could say that of Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland.

What I would say somewhat deferentially to this is. That I do what I can. I really do. 

But not just for friends. I do it for every soul that I meet in this world. I push them to their highest Godly expectations and help them gain that spot that all should. I attest for them in the Glorious eyes of our Lord. My prayers vouch for them. Would our Lord and Saviour value my prayers more than others, perhaps?

Would my simple requests give the ones I granted part of my prayer to a boon? Well, you can answer those questions yourself now after listening to what Lord Percy, Duke of Northumberland, is like as a simple man. 

Welly is a squire. He is a good lad and helps William every day to keep himself on the good side of right. 

William Marshal

Well, there has been a change in my fortune, there has. I now have a reputation that befits one such as I. One such as us, I suppose, would be more accurate. Fenrir and I have done much since journeying south to the court of Count Perigod. If you have not heard of our adventures, then go back to episode 161 of this, the finest of Podcasts, to get an understanding. Only if you wish, of course, this story will stand alone, it will.

One issue with being my Lord de Tancerville's favourite is that I must stay by his side. Much of his army is away North, supporting others in the defence of Normandy from those fools in Flanders once again. Oh, to be once more on the field for the fight. I don't like my new role of protector, even though it is given with compliments.

My Wolf is running the boundaries of the castle and its outlying woodland. Fenrir, my Wolf soul guardian angel, is taking exercise—another hard-felt blow to me. I could be there with him. I could be hunting the roe deer that he comes across. Neither of us now can do more than watch them. It is painful. Oh, a little exercise would do us well and would be most welcome, so it would.

But here I sit. Listening to Percy play his ditties for the wim of the handmaids of the court. I have been asked to be on hand to protect this group while my Lord works in the treasury. I mean, there are worse places to spend time and drink cups, there is. The ladies are pleasant both in nature and spirit, but I find conversation comes hard between them and me. I have little or no experience in talking to these fine women. They cause me fear they do. I know a man who fought and killed a Dragon is afeared of women. They are much more frightening than Dragons but in a very different way.

Some hours later, I stand above the gates. The sky is darkened as clouds cover the splinter of a moon. Rain drums on the wooden roof that sits above my head on the battlements. It is a relief to be here. I know, strange. 

I am brought here by the Wolf Soul. He has found at some distance that abroad this night are Knights. Knights and a retinue with a baggage train behind are making their way towards the chateau. They are some distance hence, but at their pace, they will be here in the next few hours.

'There are many Wil.' Says the Wolf, and indeed there is. Sixty or more Knights are riding through the night. They are supported by what seems to be a couple of hundred footmen. It is a sizeable force. 

The rain is pouring. All the angels are crying a lament this night. These men must have urgent business here as they march through a storm that none want to be in this night. Hmmmm! I hope they are not the enemy, as we have no numbers at home this eve. 

I ask the Wolf to go closer to the lead Knights. I want him to look at penants and sigils on the shields. They were covered, covered. What cowardice is this? They are hiding their colours. This is low, low base, and this is not a great sign for the defenders of this place. I feel anger flash in me. I enjoy that. 

The Lord de Tancerville appears alongside me.

'What is it, William?' He asks. 

I sigh and turn to him. 

'We have visitors, Lord.' I tell him.

'Now?' He asks, surprised he seemed to be in disbelief.

'Yes, Lord.' I replied.

He wandered to the battlements and tried to look out to the road. 

'But we have had no herald to tell us of their coming.'

'It is worse than that, my Lord. They hide their colours, and they march through this storm. They must realise we only have a few men at arms.'

The Lord stood and thought. 'How do you know?'

'I have my ways, lord.' I said. I hoped he would take this as a small explanation and not push further. He nodded.

'We should send out someone to greet them.' He said, smiling at me and winking. 

(Break)

The rain poured from the sky. It rattled off the plate and mail that we wore. The noise as it clattered off my helm was deafening. The horses snickered. They were full of discomfort, too, so they were. Gervais was very annoyed at this unwanted journey.

'Why in all the hells are we here!' Yelled Gervais above the weather's noise and the percussion it played upon us.

'I am wet to the jewels and can feel them shrivel in the cold, and there is not much to shrivel.' How we laughed.

'A warm bed awaits me... and my own bed after that.' He said with some more frustration. 

'I needed someone I could rely on.' I told him. 

'Why is that fool Percy not here then.' He asked.

'I needed someone I could rely on.' I repeated, shrugging. He nodded.

The lead horses of the caravan on the water-choked road now passed us.

They did not see us. It would be impossible this night.

I walked my Lord's destrier out behind them. 

'All hail.' I shouted to their retreating horses.

They turned and slowly and with measure walked them back to us.

'Hmmm!' Said Gervais. He was good at measuring others, and I could tell he measured these two men as worthy warriors. He was right. They knew their work.

As the horses got to us, one passed, going into a gallop to get to the lead of the caravan. His fellow stopped and got between us and the others on the road. He held his horse sideways to form a barrier.

Gervais laughed, speaking under his breath. 'This does not bode well, William. These are professional soldiers. Mercenaries, if my guess is good.' He whispered. 

'Stay your horses and state your intentions.' Said the man on the horse, turning towards me. 

'I am Willaim Marshal and represent the Lord de Tancerville. Well met.' I shouted at him.

The man held his horse as it danced its forefeet a little under stress. That stress was the proximity of the Wolf's soul, which, although unseen, sniffed around its haunches.

'I am Gervais de Montagne and I represent...' He had to think.

'Gervais.' He told the man. The confidence in his voice always made me admire him. 

'Who do you serve?' I asked the soldier, barring our way, whilst leaning on my pommel. 

'And can we get this over with soon? My Gambon will already take a week to dry, and I only have one.' I was trying to make light and show the soldier that we were in this all together—a bit of shared misery.

'I will leave it to my Lord's decision to tell you whom I serve.' The man said haughtily.

'What an utter prick.' Gervais said the sound of the rain partially masked his words.

'What did you say?' the warrior asked from his fine horse...

'I think I am getting sick.' Said Gervais much louder to the soldier as his fellow returned to us with another man on a horse. 

'The weather you see. You may not have noticed, but it is pissing down and cold."

The new... rider was dressed in very damp, foppish gear. He was not armoured but wrapped tightly in a colourful cloak. They bent their head against the rain, they did.

The soldier who had questioned us spoke to the man. He must have shared our titles with him. 

We patiently waited.

Gervais whistled Percy's latest tune. 'The Lord of Northumberland against the Mighty dragon.' It was catchy it was.  

The horse... person eventually pulled a beautiful white Palfrey to a halt before us. He dropped his hood and looked at us with utter disdain. He looked like a hawk. A hawk that was struggling to take a difficult shit.

'I am the Herlald to the Count de Perigord, the direct descendant of Charlemagne himself. My name is the Coq Courageux.' He told me, he told us, managing to look down his nose at us. It was an impressively large nose.

'Good to meet you... erm Brave cock.' I told the Herald. I heard Gervais try to stifle a laugh.

'I thought he was dead?' Gervais asked me.

'Who, Perigod or Charlotmain? Did I not kill the count? Never met this Charlotmagne woman.' I said

'No Perigods dead, but this Brave Cock person is the direct descendent of the woman.' Gervais said as he turned to the herald for the name. 

'Charlemagne!' Said the man.

'So, you see. He..' He pointed to the man on the prancing white horse. 'He is Charla... thingies descendant...'

'No, I am not a descendant of Charlemagne. The Count is.' Yelled the man.

'But is he not dead?' I asked him.

The man took a moment to run through the conversation in his head.

'Listen, you stupid dogs. The new Count de Perigod is the direct descendant of Charlemagne.' 

'Who is she?' I asked.

'Yeah, can we hurry this up, you brave cock? The weather is shite.' Said Gervais in a whiney tone. 

'Charlemagne was the greatest king, nay emperor who has ever lived.' The Cock announced.

We paused as if in thought.

'Nope, it doesn't ring a bell.' I said

'I'm sure I would have heard of him then.' Said Gervais. 

'Nice bloke, was he?' I asked.

Oh, how we laughed. This bantering on this silly man was fun. 

'You laugh at your evil night's work, do you? You evil knight, You murderous dog?' Spat the brave... chicken..

'I talk, you dog, of the count's son, the direct descendant of Charlemagne. The son of the man you killed in a moment of dog-like cowardice, you dog.'

'Let us not fall to name calling.' I told him.

'Ah, I see the new count is the direct descendant of Shitalmain.' I said to the man.

'Dog?' Said Gervais gently.

'Gervais, calm down, man. It is not worth being angered.' I told him, knowing that he was not angry in the slightest.

Gervais pointed at himself. Even with his face beneath his helm, I could tell that he was confused. 

'Hah! I do not fear you... you... dog! Aye, sir, You are a... dddddoooooggggg!.' Repeated the Herald.

'And I have a full company and its support today, and your tiny dirty dog maison is empty of warriors. You are in no place to disrespect the company of... Les enfants illégitimes!' He paused for dramatic effect.

There was silence except for the horses' snickering and the raindrops' percussion.

'The greatest free sword company in Christendom!' He announced again.

We still sat in our saddles. The fop waited for our reply. He stared at me until I felt I had to say something.

'That's nice.' I said. 

'Strange name, but fair enough.' I nodded.

'Am I still a Dog?' Said Gervais, laughing and pointing to himself.

'Yes, dog, sir! I call you a dog! A mangy Dog! You are like a dog before my master Count de Perigod, the direct descendant of...' 

'Charlemagne and his bastard children.' Gervais and I finished for the haughty man. 

'Hah, you laugh at these great names, you dogs. You son of dogs. Dogs!'

'I wish this cock would shut up.' Gervais told me under his breath.

He lifted his hand to stop the Herald from saying anything else, turned to me, and whispered.

'Not a great vocabulary for a herald, but let's run with it.' He said quietly.

'Am I mangy dog William?' He asked me clearly for everyone to hear.

'Erm... Well, I would not call you mangy personally. You would be a regal dog if you were one. I mean, without the lid on your head, you resemble a Briard a little, in man form.'

There was quiet while Gervais's hidden face thought about this.

'Seems reasonable.' Gervais replied, nodding his kettlehelm.

'I spit on your shoes and humiliate you, dog... The bastards will remove your bowels and decorate your halls with them while they lie bloody with your women. Dog' the fopp said. 

'He is pretty set on the fact that I am a dog.' Said Gervais to me.

'I don't know if that is an insult. I like dogs.' He told me. 

'Yes, dog.' The Herald spat again. He seemed a little ill at ease as Gervais had not shown him any anger. He was trying to show us disrespect. He was trying to get us angry.

There was another pause as we sat in the rain. The soldiers and the Herald sat in the rain while we stared at them sat in the rain. It was really raining, and we were sitting in it.

'I offer insult and threat, yet you sit like frightened children. Hah! I laugh in your face. I will spit on your Lord's dead forehead when it is shown to me once it has been taken from his body. Hahaha, hahaha.' 

'Dog...' Said Gervais.

'I will take your sister and mother and let the bastards have their way with them many, many times.'

'I don't have a sister.' Said Gervais. '... and you have obviously heard of my mother's reputation. She would probably enjoy an evening like that, to be honest. She would at least out-drink anyone of them, and come to the other, she would be doing the fucking.'

'Leave it, Gervais! Don't do anything rash for your mother's honour!' I shouted at him, warning the man not to be foolish and angry. Although, he was not being either. 

'Her what?' was the confused reply. 

'It does not matter what insults this master of wit lets fly. We just need to understand why this... man. It is a man, isn't it.' I asked Gervais. He shrugged.

I stopped and looked at the brave cock. Whose make-up and silks were now both suffering from the weather. They nodded.

'Sorry, just checking.' I told him, smiling a little in reassurance. 

'Why this man? This big brave cock is here. Then we can return to the fire and warmth of the castle.' I told Gervai as if in rebuttal.

'Yes, I might be a dog, but I look forward to being a warm one this night.'  Gervais said aloud to the poncey pansy. It was a poor barb.

'Not much of a repost to his insult there, Gervais.' I told him. He nodded and shrugged in agreement. 

'I wish nothing more than to be a fucking warm dog.' mumbled Gervais.

'So what is it you want with de Tancerville?' I asked the Herald. 

'We want you to die, William.' Said the man. 

'Pardon?' I courteously asked.

'You want me to die?' I asked.

'Yes, yes, you mangy dog.' Again spat the Herald. He was good at spitting his words. He was very good at being obnoxious. 

I turned back to Gervais. 'Mangy?'

He shrugged.

'Would this have something to do with the other Count de Perigod being a lying bastard?' I asked the Herald. The soldier with him took his hand to the hilt of his sword and drew it an inch or two in a threatening manner.

Gervais belched. 'Pardon me.' 

'No, stay your hand. These pigs can not help the disrespect they show us.' Said the Herald to the soldier. Dramatically reaching forward rather uncomfortably in his saddle to stop the sword being drawn.

Gervais laughed. 'I have not shown you any disrespect.' He told them sullen like a young boy and laughed again.

'Maybe the burp could be construed as that, though. What do you think, William? Sorry for that.' He said and started laughing

'What do you laugh at, dog.' The Herald was off again. Gervais went quiet and pointed at himself.

'Moi.' He asked.

'Yes, pig dog you.' Said the soaked fop.

Gervais lifted his helm to show his face.

'Pig dog?' He asked.

I laughed at Gervais. 

He dropped his helmet and mumbled some more unintelligible words.

'So you wish my lord to give me of his free will.' I asked. 

'Yes!' said the man.

'And if he does not?' I asked

'Then we will besiege you.' 

'You will beseech us?' I replied as though I had misheard him.

'I mean, if you've already asked and we have said no, I don't think beseeching my lord will help.' I told him.

'No, you deaf pig-dog fool dog. Beseige you!.' The man repeated.

I looked at Gervais and lifted my hands in confusion.

'What does he mean beseech us.' I asked him.

'Don't ask me.' Said Gervais testilly. 'I mean, I am only a pig dog. I can't even understand what the Brave Cock boy is saying with that accent.' 

The Herald shouted. 'We will besiege you!'

I lifted my helmet, took it off, held it on my hip, and lifted a hand to my ear.

'You will Beseech us?' I asked.

'No, you eediot' The raging man said.

'What's an eediot?' Gervais asked me.

'I think it's a small sea bird of some kind, is it not?' I said. 

'No we will besiege you. You idiot.' The man yelled.

Now, Gervais took his helmet off and joined me in looking at the soldier who was with the Herald. I pointed a thumb at the foppy man in his bedraggled floppy hat on his foppy white horse.

'What is Cock head saying?' I asked the embarrassed horseman.

'He says that we would besiege you.' He told us.

'Oh... that makes sense. We couldn't get past that stupid accent of his. Besiege us. Not beseech.' I continued.

'Oh, besiege.' said Gervais

The soldier nodded and laughed as we all did before looking at the Herald, who gave him a look that would have not only curdled milk but turned it into fine French cheese. 

The trooper, in response, looked at the floor, a little embarrassed, and shrugged. I think he knew he had overstepped his rank.

'Sorry.' He offered the raging Herald on his horse. 

'We bring the trebuchets!' Cock said.

'I had those once.' Gervais said. 'It took a week for me to have a solid shit. I feel for you.'

'Trebuchets!' Yelled the Herald.

'Bless you.' I said to the man. 'Sounds like you are getting a cold as well as the shits there.' 

'What do you pig dogs say in response to my demands? Pig dogs' The fop continued ignoring my witticism.

I looked at Gervais. 'Pig dogs? He's not a nice man, is he? This one him?' I continued.

Gervais shrugged his shoulders.

'I will go back to my Lord and give him your terms and will return. I will tell him that The Count de Perigod...'

"The direct descendant of Charlemagne!' butted in the herald.

'... yep, just the fellow. Him, Big Brave Cock and the Bastards are here, and you want him to hand me over. Is that it? Can we go now? I'm starting to go rusty.'

The man and the soldiers wheeled their horses and galloped back up the road towards their company without another word. 

'Pig dog.' Said Gervais to himself before we both replaced our helmets and trotted back to the castle, followed by a laughing Wolf soul.