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Whanne ich entred the chaptir hous, ich sawe al the communes, the gode knightes and burgeses and men of wit and lerninge who had com to speke for their shires and citeez. And sum ich sawe ther were kinge richardes men who had ben at the benefit dinner the night bifor – mesemede thei suffred gret unese, for all ower talkinge poyntez had ben disclosid.
Vp roos thanne a knight that was helde wys, by leve and by conseil of othir that were ther, and seide: “May the Lord blesse vs all! Gentils, ye all haue heard how Chancellor de la Pole hath tolde vs a tale of the causes of this parliament, how he hath seyde that ower lord the King nedeth gret amountes of cash and taxacioun for his werres.”
“Namoore of this, for Goddes dignitee,” quod the knight, “What maner doofus artow, that thou rehersest the talkinge poyntez of the kinge? For thei haue all been addressid and defeatid. Ay, the Frensshe do seeke to make werre vpon vs, but the moost freshe newes saith that their fleet is all kindes of disorganized and bad wedir hath y-messed-vp ther shippes. No attack loometh as yet. As for the threte thei pose to ower cinema, ich wolde thinke that ‘Love Actually’ doth prove that ower cinema is a threte vnto itself.”
And ther was muchel laughter. And the men of king richardes faction did glare me-vpon as if to seye ‘do nat make thinges worse for vs.’
And the knightes speche continued: “And thogh the threte from the Frensshe remaineth, even thogh ther flete cometh nat soon, yet ther is a greter threte: for we knowe that the houshold of the kinge is full of fooles and liares who take the money of taxacioun and spende it to ther owen avantage. Nat oon grot that is y-gadrid gooth to the defens the reaume, only to the vainglorie of the kinges false freendes. Michel de la Pole buyeth much land wyth money he hath from the king y-stole. And what man kan speke fully of the surquiderie and ill conduct of Robert de Vere, whom the king hath - in blindnesse of this mannes baseness - raysed to the ranke of Duk of Ireland. Ay, this fals de Vere who hath yiven up hys lawful wyf to gallivant about wyth Parys Launcecrona. And thuswise the hard-erned goodes of ower constituents go to buye mower bottles of Kristal for Launcerona and de Vere's table. The luxuries of thes false men do stryke the kingdom wyth horrible woundes. Certes, good sires, in no maner shal the Frensshe werre be broghte to good conclusion vntil the houshold of the kinge be broghte to good order. What say ye?”
Wel, almost al. The kinges faction did slip out stelthily lyk vnto the audience of a conference panel whan the wyne hour hath alreadye started. And yet ich moved nat to go wyth hem, for it semed that the knight spak trewthe, thogh it semed lyk tresoun.
In my swoone thus, ich dremte that ich was yn a feelde wyth singinge briddes in the trees and a river cler as crystal. And ner my feete were V smal figures. Thei were made in the forme of liouns: and oon was azur, an othir was as grene as the feelde. The thridde was as red as blod, and the ferthe was yelwe lyk the blosmes of the dandelion. The Vthe smal figur of a lion was blakke as the night. And ich picked up the liouns, and niste what thei ment or who had mad them, or why thei were in the grasse in my allegorical landscape. Ther was also a smal perle next to the liouns, but ich ignored it by cause ich figured som oon els was lookinge for it.
At which I wook, and sawe the communes weren deep in debaat. And sum oon had at that moment asked the question, “Who will go wyth me to get the secret evidence ayeinst de la Pole?” And by cause ich had screamid “I do,” I was chosen for the job.
And thus ich was no lenger a trewe yes-man of the kinges faction, but a man who wolde folwe thes communes to remove de la Pole from offyce. And ich was scared that Tommy Vsk would at me be soore y-pissed.
Allow me to introduce myne-self. I am Sir John Mandeville, knyght, though that I unworthy am. Yow myght have read myne best-sellyng travelogue, The Travels of Sir John Mandeville (that is I!), the which recounts mine aventures beyond the see, whych first I passed whan I had but xv winteres age. Yt is nat overweening to claim that myne travelogue ys y-flying off the shelves; oonly our holy writ hath y-sold more copies, but (and I mene no disrespecte to the evangelistes!) holy writ hath not the chilles and spilles of myne travel boke.
Nay, nay, good readeres, mine dayes of travel in the easte, they are y-done. After xxv yeeres in the orient I have retourned to Engelonde, to serve myne owne kyng and native countree. I am an Englishmanne, born and bred of St Albans, and I am ryght glad to be home agayn. Besides, the food abroad is nat very goode, and the privees on the continent been right drasty —in Fraunce they ne have ne seats, and in Allemagne there be verray shelves in the privees upon which one relieves oneself. What the helle is thatte aboute? Anyway, yt is good to be home agayn.
Whan that I returned from beyond the see I presented myselfe to the king’s pleasure att his court, and in his graciousness he hath retained me in his service. Thus I am the kinges gofer, with specialle charge to traverse the lengthe and breadthe of Engelonde collecting informacioun about our liege lord the kynges greet-grandsire, Kyng Edward the Secounde, the same kynge whom our lord Kinge Richard is beseeching our hooly father the pope in Rome to canonize. I have been in the kynges employ for but three dayes, and I have already two reports of myracles that I must investigate. So must I away to Kent and to Yorkshire to investigate these marvells, the which I schal share with yow, the gode readers of Maister Geoffrey Chauceres mooste excellent blogge.
But how, you ask, Sir John, do yow knowe our maister Geoffrey Chaucer? We have made acquaintance this verray month, in London, the which greet citee ys all abuzz at the sytting of parlement. Herk ye, and I schall relate the tale of how I met the good Chaucer.
I was walkyng around the Kinges Cross one evening, lookyng for a good tyme, whan that I saw a poster uppon a walle. "2d. all-yow-can-drynk at the Bell Tavern" it said. Gracious me, I thought! I have two pence! I am parched, verily! And ys nat wyne good for myne heart? Yt is what the sultanes physician y-told me in Babylon. Thys is a ryght blessed finding! And so I walked yn-to the Bell Tavern.
O, the chaos! O, the wylde turbulence! There I was the oonly gentil who hath more than xvi yeeres of age! Gangs of yowths were all besmotered with ale, and broken crispes were uppon the flore so that I ne could nat walk withouten makynge crunchynge noises! Natheless, I strode towards the bar, t'inquire of the 2d. special, when one of the yowths, all red and slurred of speche for drynkyng, yelled at me, "Wot you doing 'ere, grampa?" I looked round mine-self, seekyng some olde man. Litle dyd I know that he spoke of me, Sir John Mandeville hym-selfe! Dyd he nat knowe to whome he spake? "Surely yow meene nat I," quoth I. "I am Sir John Mandeville, knyght of Sainte Albans, best-sellying author of The Travels of John Mandeville."
"I've 'eard a that," quoth one of the yowths. "It is bollocks the lot of it. Ain't nuffink true about no dog 'eaded men or Prester John." "Yeah," quoth another. "Far as you've ever travelled is the library!" "O fals churls," said I, "yow knowe nat of what yow speke, and I have a mynde to teche yow some courtesie!" Atte this I recched for myne swerd, but atte this the yowths began to throw at me--Sir John Mandeville!--pint glasses, crips packets, and sundry botles empty and half-full.
O wretched yobbes and chavvs! Oon of the accursed yowths hyt me ryght above mine lefte eye-browe with a bottle of J2O, leaving quite the gash, and I was y-pelted wyth all other manere of bottles and rubbyshhe. Discretioun is the better part of valour some-tymes, and I supposed yt nat terribly chivalrous to sley teenagers, so I yelled at the yowths that I wolde prey for their soules as I betoke myself from thatte pub with some haste.
So thar I was, reekynge of apple-mango J2O, bleedynge from myne foreheed, pryde verray much injured. I espyed a pub across thatte same street, a darke little taverene yclept The Winchester. I walked in and satte at the bar.
"A, good sire," said a lytle man seated uppon a stool neare me, whose elfysshe presence I had noticed nat. "Yow looke lyke yow have seen better dayes."
I looked at the man--a man knowne well to readers heere!--and studyed his visage. Yow knowe hym welle; I need nat describe hym here save to maken mencioun that his woolen hatte was drypping wette. "Whatte happeend to youre hatte, good sire?" asked I.
"The chavs across the streete poured beere upon myne heed and made funne of myne weight," said he. "And now, I have namoore monie for to spend at the pub. I hadde but two pence for the whole of the nyght, the whych I have used heere. Allas and welaway! I am sytting in Kinge Richardes parlement, and I have already y-spent this weekes allowance buying olde bokes on the Charing Cross Road."
"King Richardes parlement?" quod I. "I am ryght new retained by hys majestie on his privee busynesse! I am a kynges man also!" We thus fell ynto talkynge, he and I, and I was moost happy to keep the ale y-flowynge. We talked of many a murie thynge long ynto the nyght. What became of thys talkynge? Muchel of our discussioun touched uppon matteres of wrytynge--of whych I schal nat bore yow heere--but I learned also of thisse blogge, the which the goode Chaucer hath invited me to poste from tyme to tyme as travel editour and raconteur-atte-large.
Well, I must away to Dungeness in Kent, there to see yf Edward II's face has appeared in a breaded snakke of grilled cheese. Stay tuned for myne updates about thatte mattere! Also stay tuned for myne exposee about a notorious and filthy liar whose verray soule is polluted with falsenesse and who in lyf was given to wilde exageraccioun--I mene Marco Polo, that wankere. Any-way, more aboutte that when I retourn from Kent.
B. The kinge is mighti and fullye committede to the governement of his reaume and ys not a “wussy” as sum sclanderers haue seyde
Thes thinges me semed good and ful of wisdam, and fayre to speken for the safetee of the reaume. And yet, ich sawe but fewe men of parlement ther in that halle. Ich trowe, ther mvste haue ben gadrid on that night but halfe the men that cam to Westminstre for parlement. For the communes aren manye, and this felaweshippe was smal. And manye of hem who stod ther wyth the Chancellor were knowen to me as frendes of the kinge and loyal servauntz to hys majestee.
And yet litel me thought of thes thinges, for the ale was good and moyst and fre of charge. Ich dranke depe and talkede wyth manye men, and we swalwed gret draughtes for the kinges helth. Tommy Vsk did come and we did talke of this and that. Ich askid Vsk whedir all the men of parlement had been called to this meetinge and he seyde, "Every liege at parlement loial to the Kyng hath ben callid heere tonight, but nat the foule churles who wolde arguen ayeinst the wyse counsels of the Kyng and the Chancellor."
The moon brightli shone, and ich was alle fordronken so that ich coud scarce feel my owen legges vndir me. Drink had me daswed. Ich knewe ich coud nat retourne to Langelondes hous, so ich took my reste at an inn that stood nere to the palais of Westminstre. Ich payde the keeper for a room and did climb the stayres to go to slepe. On the stayres, a fayre wenche cam me-towardes. She must haue ben but of XVIII yere of age, wyth heere as yelwe as flaxe ysponne, and body gent and smal. She was ful moore blisful on to see than is the newe pere-jonette tree.
“Well, so Sir Roland made like a frat boy with the beer and all, and he kind of lost his talking points. He's got me running around trying to find other men, uh, loyal to the king who might have them. Could I just borrow your talking points? I’ll make a fair copy for Sir Roland and you’ll have them back before you know it. I’ll just put them under your door. Pretty please? ”
And yet whan I wook, no oon had putte the bille of talkinge poyntez backe vndir my door. Ich askede the inn keeper if a braue knight ycleped Quelquechose had taken his reste ther, and the inn keeper seyde he knew no swich name, but it semed to hym that it mente somethinge. And thanne ich asked of the fayre wenche, who she was and whider she had com, and the inn keeper tolde me that he knewe her nat but that she had come ther yesternight at the tyme of vespers and she had hunge around talkinge on a verye expensive celle phone and makinge snarky remarkes.
And as ich stod adased and wondired on what thes thinges coud mene, it cam to my memorie that it was Mondaye morne, and the daye of Parlement! Ich hoofed it to the halle of Westminstre, and entered it in last nightes clothes, stinkinge lyk vnto a beer-pong table.
O the pompe and majestee! Ther was a grete thronge of peple, gentils and menne of richesse fro the shyres, and grete lordes wyth her retinuez, alle assemblid in the Paynted Chamber of Westminstre. Ther were merchantz in liveree of manye coloures, and knightez sadde who had served in werres, professional politicians who shifty looked, and bifor hem alle sat Kyng Richard in hys splendor, and bifor hym was Michel de la Pole the chancellor.
The Chancellor bigan to speke, and he toold of the resons for the callinge of parlement, and he did in grete voys and loude, and wyth fayre speche. And yet noon of yt was newe to me, for it was alle the poyntez of talkinge that ich had rede of at the recepcioun yesternight: that the kinge was to make werre vpon the Frensshe, and that the communes should commit ther shires to yive moneye for the werre, and eek he gave the resons forwhy, et cetera et cete-
Ich sterted, for som oon clasped me by the shouldre. It was Tommy Vsk, and his eyen were fulle of ire.
But we coud talke na moore, for the speche of de la Pole was finisshed, and alle the communes wente awey to the Chapter Hous of the abbey for to speke of the respons thei sholde make to the demaundes for moneye, and ich wente with hem in my capacitee as elected representative of Kent, and Vsk ranne off on busyness of his owene.
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Trotting back indoors, Mr Monkey found himself in the World War One hall. There's a wide collection of artillery pieces, and examples of the major tanks used in the Great War. Mr Monkey studied the Renault FT17 tank, notable for being the first tank to have a revolving turret. Beside it is a British Medium Mark A tank, known as a Whippet because it could race at speeds up to 8 mph.
Hello! I realized late this afternoon that I hadn't played along yet with this weeks MFT Getting Sketchy Challenge! So...I feel like I cheated and whipped something super simple together, but I still like it! Here is what I came up with:
I used (as always!) one of the Pure Innocence line of stamps. Kept it simple...no coloring! Took a bit of willpower not to pull out the Copics though!
The banner is hand trimmed, and all the edges are inked with Tim Holtz distress ink in Frayed Burlap.
Added a couple of stick on pearls, and some faux stitching to finish it all off! Thanks for stopping by today!
Oh Wow! I always love the way you interpret a sketch, but the way you used just that tiny amount of the yellow striped paper... GENIUS! It looks so amazing with the other muted colors! It's just completely and totally perfect!!!
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