SIR Felix PICKLES
Henry DE BOHUN, Earl of Hereford
SIR FAISAL de Anjou, a Templar knight
Lady Nigella HONEYBUNS
As dusk settles over a stretch of remote wilderness in Herefordshire,
two men aback Arabian steeds crest the horizon. The man riding in
lead, SIR Felix PICKLES, is dressed in a shimmering black hauberk
with a white cross emblazoned on his breast. His expression is grim
and he is swarthily complected. Trailing him rides CHIPS, a
hunchback of unknown origin and from this distance appears to be
some perverse parody of a human being. They are riding at a trot
now. The sun declines behind them and they slowly continue on
their journey to the city of Hereford, where they have been
summoned by Henry DEBOHUN, Earl of Hereford to a meeting
of supreme importance.
SIR PICKLES: In this wild borderland one must keep
a constant vigil. Barbarous Welshman
lurketh in the shadows hoping to snare
travellers with their pagan magic. I
am most glad to be nearly rid of this
brooding woodland and back to law-abiding
society again. There we shall meet
with the Earl and hear his urgent tidings.
I wish also to catch the eye of the
fair Lady Nigella Honeybuns, for
she is beauty incomparable, and
my weary soul shan't rest a moment 'till
my rended heart be mended by her love.
CHIPS: Tush, tush, noble sir! Thou must remember
the old ditty: ♫Wenches ain't nothing but
strumps and japes…♫
SIR PICKLES: Silence thy tongue, thou misshapen bugbear!
If thou darest besmirch the good name of fair
Lady Honeybuns ever again, by
my troth I shall not hesitate to gut
thee like a swineherd does his worthless runts!
Come along now, the city is near.
[The riders arrive at the edge of Hereford. They pass by the stream
that flows out of the city and they watch a half-naked man empty
his piss pot in the water. The sentinels open the gate to the city. The
two men make their way through the maze of shoddy wooden
buildings, past the cathedral, and to the residence of the Earl. DE
BOHUN is waiting outside to greet them.]
DE BOHUN: A most welcome to thee, Sir Pickles! We
have been awaiting thine arrival for some time. And
what is this thing thou hast brought with thee?
SIR PICKLES: Thy hospitality is most kind, my
lord. This fellow here is my travelling
companion. He is known only as Chips.
I found him employed at an almshouse in
Antioch, where he was charged with
cleaning up the lazars' excretions.
DE BOHUN: A most repugnant fellow. He will sleep
in the barn with the other animals
tonight. Please send him away now! We
don't want him frightening the ladies. Guards!
[Two armed guards escort CHIPS to the barn.]
SIR PICKLES: My lord, we shan't be spending the night here.
Might I inquire about thy sister,
the fair Lady Honeybuns? She has long
been a fixture in my thoughts during the
arduous journey back from the Holy
DE BOHUN: My sister? She is engagéd to be
married to Sir Faisal de Anjou. For
him, my sister is the greatest prize of
his illustrious career, and that is
saying much, considering his status
as a man of chivalry and legit
lady killer. But enough idle talk,
let's go in and get down to the business
at hand, shall we?
[The two men enter the Earl's residence and make their way to the
private hearth room. DE BOHUN goes down to the cellar and returns
with a bottle of his finest Spanish wine. He uncorks it and fills two
goblets to the brim and hands one to SIR PICKLES. DE BOHUN
motions to take seats by the hearth.]
SIR PICKLES: I cannot wait any longer! What is
this pressing matter that thou hast summoned
me four thousand miles to hear?
DE BOHUN: Be silent, and I shall recount for thee
in whole the reason for thy summoning.
[DE BOHUN sits silent and pensive for what seems like a minute, then
takes a deep breath.]
Lo, the echo of the mohel's snip! The
most priceless pleasure scabbard hath been lost
for nigh on twelve-hundred years. On the eighth
day of our Lord and Saviour's lustrous life,
the foreskin of his glorious manhood
was severed in Judaic ritual
fashion. From there, the legend saith that
it was preserved in spikenard and held in
an alabaster reliquary, so
that His flesh may remain undecayéd
until the final day of judgement. This
relic has disappeared entirely
from all knowledge in Christendom until
now. So, the reason for your coming is
this: I have in my possession the sworn
location of this prizéd penile
talisman, but it is in a code that
I cannot comprehend.
[DE BOHUN walks over to his desk and retrieves a tiny piece of
parchment. He hands it to SIR PICKLES. SIR PICKLES reads it
once, twice, then hands it back.]
SIR PICKLES: I have not the faintest idea what
this could mean.
DE BOHUN: Neither did I at first, but I handed
this parchment over to Sir Faisal, since
he's acquainted with the esoteric
knowledge of the East, both Saracen
[there's a knock at the door, and SIR FAISAL enters with two
Ah, there's our man! How now, Sir Faisal?
SIR FAISAL: My lord, it has come to my attention
that thou plan'st to bring Sir Pickles into
DE BOHUN: Verily, I do. He is a knight of
SIR FAISAL: I must vehemently object to this.
I, and I alone, will find this relic.
SIR PICKLES: My dear Earl, wherefore dost thou need such
a powerful talisman anyways?
DE BOHUN: The Holy Prepuce is said to bestow
immense power on whoever is in
possession of it. Once I have it in
my custody, I will be able to
usurp King John and reign over all of
Albion! The Lords of this land are not
pleased with his stewardship, and I aim to
take advantage of this discontent. The
Plantagenets are finished here. Back to
France with them, I say.
SIR PICKLES: And why should I help thee do this?
DE BOHUN: Because if thou succeedest I will let
thee marry my sister! I know how much
thou lovest the fair Lady Honeybuns.
SIR FAISAL: My Lord! Thy sister is promised to me!
DE BOHUN: I've changed my mind, thou pompous, Baphomet-
worshiping Templar! Whoever wins this
relic for me wins the hand of my dear
sister. If thou want'st her, thou must earn her!
[The three men exit the hearth room and DE BOHUN takes
leave of SIR PICKLES and SIR FAISAL, who continue on to
SIR FAISAL: Thou cripple-witted son of a yeoman!
Thou knowest not even where to begin
looking! I'll have already married and
deflowered the Lady Honeybuns by
the time thou get'st thy first clue!
SIR PICKLES: I have the cryptic clue committed to
memory, and that is all I need.
[CHIPS enters with their horses]
CHIPS: Milord, the horses are ready.
SIR FAISAL: The foreskin, and the Lady Honeybuns,
shall be mine!
[SIR FAISAL spurs his horse and swiftly rides out of the city.]
SIR PICKLES: That odiferous, Hot Pocket eating,
choleric son of a cur!
CHIPS: That fellow is a proper corpse munger.
HONEYBUNS: What is this I hear about corpse munging?
SIR PICKLES: My dearest lady! I did not know that
thou wert here! I apologize profusely
for the language of my crass companion.
He is not acquainted with the customs
of this land.
HONEYBUNS: Peace, Pickles. I care not about bawdy
man-talk. I have come hither to tell thee
that thou need'st not worry thyself about
Sir Faisal's cryptic clue, for it is a
misdirection to put thee on the wrong
SIR PICKLES: That gleeking, dog-hearted huggermugger!
Why dost thou tell me this, my fair lady?
HONEYBUNS: Because it is thee, not he, that I should
be marrying! I will never love that
detestable rogue! Now, make haste, good man!
I have overheard Sir Faisal and my
brother speaking of an Irish
monastery near the mountain of Croagh
Patrick. It is called the Monastery
of St. Burpo the Gelded. Thou should'st
seek this place, for I believe that it holds
clues to the foreskin's whereabouts.
SIR PICKLES: I thank thee and farewell, my love! Chips, mount
thy horse: We ride.
[SIR PICKLES and CHIPS mount their steeds and gallop out of
Our two relic seekers fly with unrelenting celerity to the bustling port
town of Bristol, where they board a trade cog bound for Ireland. After
three days afloat on the Irish Sea they make land, and soon are
galloping through the still streets of Dundalk in the dead of night.
They head due west through the rolling green hills of the Irish
interior; they encounter nary a soul on this lonely road to the
western mountains. About ten leagues east of Croagh Patrick they
spy a thin wisp of smoke rising from a nearby dell. They approach
as dusk descends, they approach and find a solitary man sitting
by a campfire.
SIR PICKLES: Holla my good fellow! Perchance we could
make our camp here next to thee for the night?
EYEFISH: I care not. I need not the company,
but I shan't turn ye away either.
SIR PICKLES: I humbly thank thee for thy kindness.
[SIR PICKLES and CHIPS proceed to set up their shelters. The
strange hermit returns to cooking the night's dinner: a simple
stew of snail, squirrel, and fly agaric caps. The two travellers take
a seat across fromthe hermit.]
EYEFISH: What brings the two of ye out here? Ye be
Englishmen, that much I can gather.
SIR PICKLES: I am an Englishman, yes, but my dear
travelling companion's origins are
unknown even to me, I'm afraid. He
speaketh only in cryptic babble. Chips,
kindly tell this man about thyself.
CHIPS: Correcto. This is that, but only this:
for I know of the proper world. There
be three worlds: world of Light, world
of Darkness, and the world of Fire.
I know this for I have seen this.
SIR PICKLES: I fear his madness at times.
EYEFISH: Ye knoweth not the secrets of this dark
world. When Moses descended from Mount
Horeb in a maniacal trance, he
carried with him a devious lie in
that cold, sinister heart of his: the lie
for all time. Our history is a lie—
everything is a lie! The Pope worships
Moloch, heathen god of the Ammonites.
He and his ilk sacrifice poor virgins
at the shrine of St. Peter and then bathe
in the blood whilst fornicating with goats.
I know this for I have seen with my own
eyes this ritual performéd. I see
ye over there, scoffing! I know your type.
Ye think ye know it all because ye read
it in a book once! In a book! Some
parchment with ink on't!
SIR PICKLES: I don't think we'll be spending the night
here. Chips, pack our gear.
EYEFISH: Oh no, ye ain't leaving. Not alive at least! [EYEFISH
draws an 8-inch blade from his boot.]
CHIPS: Put thy dagger away, thou smeg-eating
[CHIPS pulls a 9-inch blade from his waistband. He and EYEFISH
square-up at a distance of about eight feet and circle about,
waiting for the other to make the first move.]
SIR PICKLES:This is quite unnecessary! Let us
be on our way, Mister Eyefish.
[EYEFISH lunges at CHIPS and sinks his dagger straight into the
CHIPS: O, this be a mortal wound! [he dies]
[SIR PICKLES draws his Ulfberht sword from his scabbard, and in
one swift motion cleanly decapitates EYEFISH.]
SIR PICKLES: [kneeling over CHIPS' corpse]
O you poor, nonsensical bastard!
Thou didst not deserve such a cruel fate! I
shall bury thy body deep, so local
mungers shan't e'er be able to find it.
[Exit SIR PICKLES with the body.]