Arthur and Django by Jackie Penticost

The old man heard the clarion call at last, and roused himself on one elbow.  Rolling over, he nudged the sleeping knight, who sat up slowly, shedding rust as the joints of his armour slowly freed themselves.

‘Arthur!  It is the call, and the tribes have need of us. Come and rouse yourself’

Merlin leant upon Arthur as they stumbled to the door of the cave, and looked out, blinking in the light.   Silhouetted against the sun they beheld a figure, holding the Horn of Albeath.

‘Hey man, I was partying hard at Glasto, took myself off to chill out, and I found this really neat trumpet’ 

Django puffed feebly on the horn, which gave out a wheeze.  He waved aimably at the two men.

‘Took it out of me, climbing up the hill, but hey, what a view.  Can you spare me a toke?’

Merlin glanced at Arthur, and stepped forward.  Below the tor, the land spread out for miles, a patchwork of neat fields wholly alien to the two men.  To the west could be seen, like an anthill, the thousands of revellers enjoying the festival, and the sounds of Metallica filled the air.

‘êower healdan fremung un−l¯æd ûs pro ic’   (Tr: you have need of us)

‘Come again?’  Django scratched his head

Merlin pointed at the anthill, now pulsing with the heavy beats of Jay-Z.

‘ Sunset Seaxe ðrêa!’  Tr: ‘We must fight the West Saxons!’

‘Oh hey, you’ve come over for the sex?  Me too.  But, y’know,  I haven’t managed to hook up yet, and I’ve lost my tent, so I guess I’ll be star gazing tonight after Lady Gaga’s set. Come with?’

Django gestured down towards the crowd.  Arthur turned back towards the cave, and shouted. Slowly, other men became visible in the gloom, standing and buckling on swords.

‘we mæðelcwide forhêawan ðæge’  (Tr: we will kill them all)

‘Oh hey, I guess you’re Danish or something, but I can’t find you in Google translate on my phone, man. But I hope you’ve all got tickets, or you’re an act, ‘cos we won’t all get over the fence’

Django’s phone rang, and a muddy female face appeared on the screen.  Django waved it at Merlin.

‘Hey, it’s my sis! Let me just find out where she is, she might be able to let us in behind the toilets’

Merlin and Arthur leapt back in fear as a small animated face chattered angrily at Django, who made apologetic noises.

‘Se drýcræft mid twihynde dêoflu’  (Tr: he is a sorcerer! With a demon!)

Django put the phone away, wholly unaware of his occult power and its effect on the two men.

‘She can get in a couple of you but the rest will have to wait til after dark’

Merlin started to weave his body and his hands danced, summoning the dark magic that he felt returning to him.

‘forðweg twihynde dêoflu!’ (tr: Begone, foul demon’)

‘Hey, that’s really trippy, I’m feeling it. Look, I’m going to go get some munchies, but I’ll look out for you guys by the folk stage later tonight. I’ve got some Afghan Kush to hand round, if you feel the need.’

Django waved and strolled off down the hill.

Arthur turned to Merlin.  A look of understanding and sorrow passed between them.

‘hit hê goldmæstling ðætte ðearlmôd man healdan lybcræft’  (Tr: they are too strong, and they have magic)

Slowly they walked back into the cave, and settled down to sleep.