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The Clatter of Armour in the Morning
Countess Ianthe writes
> As he is my lord and husband, I have granted Don Fernando
> considerable latitude in the forms he may address me by, but
> even he has treaded close to danger.
> At Pennsic VI, Fernando (as King) woke me with a resounding
> slap on the rump, and the bellow "UP WENCH! WE GO TO WAR!"
> In gentle response, I tripped him. He fell into our piled
> armor with a resounding crash. I jumped up and bellowed back
> "THEN BRING ME MY ARMOR, BOY!"
> Outside the tent a dead silence came over the camping
> neighborhood - except for birdsong... and the strangled gurgle
> of (then) Prince Frederick of Holland, who was choking on his
> morning coffee by our fire.
Perhaps his Highness was just suffering from the morning results of a
Pennsic evening of partying, as we all know Royalty is feated at every
opportunity at the war.
Good to see that your Excellency stands for your own, even if it means
tripping your lord.