Iron Man and the Knights of the Round Table

Iron Man is owned by Marvel comics

Since today was some sort of Pagan holiday, the local catholic priest, Father Philip was having an all day Mass to compete with the Pagan festivities that were taking place a few miles outside of the castle. King Anthony thought he would see Gwenevere either before or after Mass and speak to her about obtaining Elleonora’s freedom then. The Mass was attended by all of the Christian Knights and their families who were currently staying at the castle. Amongst the attendees, Anthony saw Galahad and Marcus, Drusius and his wife Lydia were there along with their children, Kay and his wife, even Lancelot was there. But strangely, Gwenevere was not by his side. The King had to wait until the next day to speak with Gwenevere, when he found her sitting at the round table reading the latest printed version of the Golden Ass.
“Lady Gwenevere, I would like to speak with you.” Said Anthony.
Gwenevere suddenly jumped up at as if she had done something wrong and 0curtsied to him. But the King had failed to notice the social blunder she had committed in sitting at the round table.
“You majesty, how may I serve you?”
“One of the servants, a girl named Elleonora, who has been acting as my valet, is a slave of yours. I would like to have her set free.”
Gwenevere frowned. “He didn’t think I was good enough to be his Queen!” She thought to herself. “And now he wants to marry that servant girl he’s been having an affair with! Well, she gets to be Queen over my dead body!”
Gwenevere began screaming at him in Britannic. Anthony had by now, only learned a little Britannic and certainly couldn’t comprehend it at this rapid-fire rate..
“All right! All right! I’m sorry I asked!” Said Anthony. He would have to find another way to help Elleonora.

Later that day Anthony heard a couple of the servants grumbling about “that witch who killed Merlin.” This peaked his interest, both because he disapproved of magic, and because he knew that Merlin had been well liked and missed by the Knights who knew him.
“What is this about a witch?” asked the King.
“It is nothing, my lord.” Answered the servant. “We were just talking about that Nineve and how she had the nerve to show her face here after she killed Merlin.”
“Nineve!” said Anthony. He felt his heart race at the mention of the woman he had met at Avalon. He longed to see her again. “Where is she?”
“Well, my lord, she was priestess at the Beltaine festivities but she’s probably gone by now.”
Anthony spent a good part of the day looking for her throughout the castle and the surrounding area, to no avail.

Several weeks passed. Now that he was now longer sexually harassing her, Anthony saw Elleonora become happier with each day that passed. This, in spite being a slave whose owner had ordered her to be his valet. One morning, when she went to empty his chamber pot, she threw up into it.
“Are you all right?” asked Anthony?
“I am fine, your majesty.” Replied Elleonora.
“If you are sick, you could take the day off.” Suggested the King.
“I am not sick, you majesty.” Said Elleonora. “I am simply, with child.”
On hearing that she was pregnant, Anthony felt a mixture of fear and elation.
“Am I the father?” asked Anthony.
“I honestly don’t know.” She admitted. “It could be you, or it could be Sean, my husband, or it could be a magical child.”
“What do you mean, a magical child?” asked Anthony.
“You Know, a Son of God, a child born of Beltaine.” Elleonora could tell by his puzzled look that he didn’t know what she was talking about. “As part of the Beltaine celebration, people go out into the fields and have sex. Usually, it’s not with their own spouse. Children born of this night are considered sacred.”
Anthony had never heard of such a thing and couldn’t believe the casual way she spoke of her infidelity. He hadn’t expected to find such a liberal attitude in a fifth century woman. Now he understood why the Priest had not wanted people to attend the rite. He made a mental note to look into this “Beltaine” next year.

As autumn came and the weather grew cold, the servants moved the beds back into the great hall for winter. Last year, King Anthony had considered introducing the chimney to fifth century Britain. But, by the end of winter he had reconsidered. Chimneys would allow heating of individual rooms, thus breaking up the communal winter experience that he had come to like. Since he was now sleeping alone, he began sleeping by the fire with the commoners instead of in the canopy bed that had been set up for him. This caused some surprise at first. But, soon his subjects came to except his eccentricities and the experience bonded them closer to him.
By now Elleonora 's pregnancy was starting to show. When he heard the sounds of her making love to her husband, Anthony missed her and wondered if he was soon to be a father. Since everyone knew that he was sleeping alone, he had gotten a few propositions from the unmarried women of the castle and even from a few of the married ones. But his guilt over how he had treated Elleonora and his worries over her condition made him pour himself into his work.

447

After Christmas, the Knights of the Round Table met once again to go over legislation and once again, King Anthony asked to address them.
"Gentlemen, I have for each of you a suit of plate armor." Said Anthony, using Sir Gawain as a model. "As you can see, it is much superior to the ring mail you have been using. In addition, these new kite shields will make it easier for you to protect yourselves while on horseback. In the future, I will try to build such armor for all of our soldiers."
The Knights were very pleased with their new armor. But, it was time for the cabinet to report. Lancelot had little to report, as international affairs had been quiet over the past year. Gawain had praise for the new arms, tactics and armor. Sir Kay's report came next.
"We've expanded our schools into Mercia and Wales. But we are having trouble finding enough books and qualified teachers to go around. I recommend that we ask the church to send more priests to Britain to help run our schools."
"Since our classes are taught in Britanic instead of Latin, we may have trouble finding qualified priests on the continent." Replied Anthony. "Sir Brian?"
"Since completion, the steel mill has been unable to run at capacity due to ore shortages. We just can't get Iron ore, coal and limestone to the mill as fast as we can make steel."
"We are going to have to build a system of railroads." Replied the King. "Initially, they will just be to the mines. But eventually, they will go to all parts of the realm and aid in transporting people and supplies."
"Speaking of transporting things" said Sir Pellinore, "what is this I hear about you calling together sailors and just giving them technologies for free?"
"The things I have taught them, the compass, perspective geography, the triangular sail and the general shape of Europe, Africa and Asia were necessary in order to obtain more detailed maps and improve foreign trade. Eventually, I will build a Navy with a technology that will make sails obsolete.
There is something else I wanted to discuss and that is this new tax structure you have devised. I am afraid I will have to veto it unless you can explain it better. It seems to me that letting the serfs make a subsistence living and taking everything that their farms produce beyond that as taxes is a recipe for famine. How did this come about?"
“When Rome pulled its’ army out of Britain,” began Sir Marcus. “The Picts began raiding the peoples of Britain. General Ambrosius along with a few other roman soldiers who had stayed behind formed an army to protect the people. His son, Uther Pendragon continued this protection as did his son Arthur. In the time between Kings, we fell to fighting amongst ourselves. So a system evolved where the farmers became owned by the land and who ever owned that land had a right to tax them in exchange for protecting them from the barbarians. If the land changes hands, the serfs just pay their taxes to the new owner. The serfs don’t produce much access, so we take the little bit of extra they produce.”
“They don’t have any incentive to produce more.” Said Anthony. “We are going to change that. From now on, farms will be taxed on a percentage of the access that they sell. This way, the more they produce, the wealthier they get, and the more taxes we collect. We are going to need to boost agricultural production if we want a significant portion of the population to be available for military or industrial needs. And we need to end this business about serfs being tied to the land. I know it gives them a sense of security, but if they want to walk away from their farms they should be allowed to do so. We need workers to be available when we need them.”
The rest of the meeting went smoothly as the Knights learned of and approved his plans. They drafted legislation and approved of his tax and sending plans.

Late in January, after the Round Table had gone into recess and most of them had returned to their realms, Gwenevere decided to visit her winter castle. She had told the porters to carry her belongings to the cart in which they were to be transported, when she spied the servant, Elleonora in the hall. Lady Gwenevere saw Elleonora drop the bucket she was carrying and lean against the wall clutching her abdomen. She rushed to the servant’s side.
“How long have you been in labor”
“Since early last night, my lady” replied Elleonora through gritted teeth.
Gwenevere turned to one of the porters. “Get the midwife! And try to find her husband! And the King!” She helped Elleonora into her room to deliver the baby.

Sean Farmer and King Anthony paced back and forth out side of Gwenevere’s room. They could hear the screams of Sean’s wife, Elleonora, as her labor pains increased. This only heightened they anxiety. Anthony wondered if he was about to be a father.
“Back home, it would be easy to find out.” Thought Anthony. “We could do a genetic test. In this time, we can’t even do a simple blood test to determine paternity. I wish I knew more about medicine. She should be in a hospital, not somebody’s bedroom. God, listen to her! She sounds like she’s being ripped apart!”
Elleonora’s labor continued for hours. Suddenly, her screams abruptly stopped. The two could men could hear Gwenevere and the midwife frantically discussing something. Finally, Gwenevere opened the door. The pain was visible on her face.
“I’m sorry.” Said Gwenevere.
“The Baby?” asked Sean.
“He was stillborn. It was a little too early.” Replied Gwenevere.
“How . . . how is Elleonora?”
“She didn’t make it either.”
“Noooo!” cried Sean. Anthony held him as he cried on his shoulder. He said nothing as the man grieved for his dead wife and son. What could he say? This was the fifth century. Women frequently died in childbirth here. Anthony cursed himself for not learning more about medicine. And he blamed himself for Elleonora’s death. He might have been the father of her child.
“I raped her and now I’ve killed her!” Anthony thought to himself.

“Step right up folks and see the amazing Stark Wonder-plow in action!” Said Sean Farmer. He had not had the heart to continue farming after his wife’s death. So, he had jumped at the chance the King had offered him to go on the road, selling the new plows to people like him. At every village he was welcomed, as people longed to hear news from Camelot and see the latest innovation in agriculture.
“Its’ steel blade cuts through even the toughest sod. Behind the blade, is a scoop for pushing the broken sod to one side. All this, can be pulled by a horse with this incredible horse collar. Watch as the amazing Stark Wonder-plow plows through even the toughest sod.”
He snapped the reins and urged the horse onward. The plow moved slowly through the ground. It was hard, back breaking work. But the people were amazed to see him plowing through soil that would have taken them months of preparation before they could even think about using one of their own plows on. What they had been plowing with, was little more than a pointed stick. Before it could be used the sod had to be broken up by hand. And here was this stranger with his fancy farm machine plowing through unbroken sod as if it were prepared soil. After he felt he proven the worth of the new kind of plow, Sean paused to go back in too his sales pitch:
“You might think that such an amazing tool would be beyond your reach. But you would be wrong! Right now you can get the amazing Stark Wonder-plow on credit and pay for it in 5 easy annual installments. And the first payment is not due until after the next harvest! With the amazing Stark Wonder-plow, you will be able to plant a larger crop than ever before! Next autumn, you will have enough food to not only feed your family for the up coming year. You will have a surplus that you can sell! Now who wants one?”
Sean Farmer took orders from almost every farmer in the village. Not surprisingly, a large number of them, like him, had taken the name, Farmer, as their family name. The village held a celebration in his honor that lasted late into the night. After he had performed his sales pitch in several villages, he met with a courier who took the orders he had taken back to the factory at Camelot. The farmers would receive their new plows within a month with much delight.

As the days lengthened and the flowers began to bloom. King Anthony began to heal from the pain of the past year. It had been an emotionally wrenching year for him . . . discovering that his relationship with his valet, Elleonora, had been non-consensual. . . learning that she might be pregnant with his child. . . watching her belly swell as she carried the child to term . . . the subsequent death of both mother and child. . . As a result of all this emotional strife, the King had chosen to sleep alone for the past year.
When Beltaine arrived, he was still leery of relationships, but his curiosity had been peaked, so he resolved to attend the festivities this year instead of the all day Mass that Father Philip was holding to compete with the Pagan holiday. When he arrived at Glastonbury, there were already a fair number of people there. Although the celebration at Stonehenge was closer to Camelot, this one, because of its proximity to Avalon, was reputed to be the biggest. It was a celebration attended by many of the more Pagan Knights of the Round Table and their families. Much of it was completely new to him. But the May Pole dance was familiar.
In the evening was special ritual that was to be attended by adults only. When Anthony arrived, he instantly noticed that everyone in attendance was nude.
"When in Rome . . ." he said as he removed his own clothing.
He joined the circle of a couple of hundred naked men and women looked around at the other attendees. There were Pagan Knights like Sir Brian and Sir Nuada, as well as commoners, some of whom he recognized from Camelot's staff. He was surprised to see that Lady Gwenevere was there but, Sir Lancelot was no where to be found. Even though he knew she was married, the King couldn't resist staring at her lithe form. His eyes drifted downward from her flowing red hair to her shapely beasts and down to the rusty colored hair of her mound. She turned toward Anthony and saw that he was staring at her. Gwenevere smiled and gave him a wink.
Suddenly, Anthony noticed a trio of women standing in the center of the circle that he hadn't seen before now. All of them were painted with the blue serpentine designs that he had seen at Avalon. They wore nothing else but held their posture as if they were fully dressed. The oldest, had hair that had long since turned completely gray. The youngest, looked like she might be the girl he had rejected at Avalon. Even two years later, she still didn't look old enough to be an adult. The third woman was instantly recognized by Anthony. Nineve. Her eyes seem to look right through him as she began speaking to the crowd. He still hadn't learned enough Britannic to follow her completely. But he thought she said something about fertility and new growth. The older priestess handed her a large chalice, which she held aloft and blessed, then drank from. Then Nineve held the cup as the other two priestesses drank. She handed the chalice to the younger priestess who then offered it to each person in the circle. As he saw her bring the chalice around the circle, Anthony tried to think of a way to gracefully refuse the cup. When his turn came, he drank it anyway. It had a strange metallic taste.
“I guess it’s okay.” Thought Anthony to himself as he realized that the liquid in the cup was not wine. “After all, I’m an alcoholic, not a drug addict.” He knew he was just trying to justify his participation. But he didn’t care. Back home, he had the reputation for being a something of a playboy. This past year, was the longest he had gone without sex since he was sixteen. Not wanting to repeat the abuse he had committed against Elleonora, he had become afraid to make a pass at any of the women of Camelot for fear that they would be afraid to say, “No.” to the King. But here was a forum where his advances would be welcome.
After every one had drunk from the chalice, Nineve began leading them in a chant and dancing around in a circle, holding hands. After a while, she let go of the older woman’s hand and began spiraling inward. Once she got to the center, Nineve led the group in spiraling outward. This repeated as they wandered around on the field. Anthony observed that whatever it was they had drunk, the drug had definitely taken effect by the time the sun had gone down. He was feeling as if the life-force of the planet was so strong that he could see by its’ light radiating from beneath him.
Suddenly, as she was passing his section of the line, Nineve let go of the younger priestess’ hand and pulled him out of the line. As he held her hand, Anthony could see her smiling at him while leading him away from the crowd. Anthony looked back at them and saw that the young priestess was still leading some of them in that spiral dance but the number of people dancing had started to dwindle. Once they had gotten some distance from the crowd, Nineve pulled him closer to kiss him . . .

As she lay on the ground with Sir Ewain on top of her, thrusting into her, Gwenevere observed that what Ewain lacked in experience, he made up for in enthusiasm. This made her thoughts turn back to her wedding night, with Lancelot. After the reception, they had gone back to her room. Lancelot maintained an animated conversation as they discussed trivialities. He seemed to be stalling. Finally, Gwenevere decided to take the initiative. She grabbed his hand and began stroking it while looking deeply into his eyes. As he leaned forward, she tilted her head back to kiss him. Their lips met and they kissed, tentatively, at first, then, more passionately, as they continued. When she parted his lips with her tongue, he responded eagerly. As she pressed her chest against his, she stroked her hands across his strong, muscular back. Pressed together like this, she could feel him beginning to swell before he moved away a little so he could fondle her through her dress. She longed to feel his hands on her bare skin so she broke free of him.
“Did I do something wrong?” asked Lancelot.
“Not at all.” Said Gwenevere as she led him to a chair. She wanted him to see her undress. While she slowly took off her jewelry, she kept he eyes locked with his. Then she slowly pulled her dress over her head and off. She stood there, posing so that he could enjoy her nakedness. She watched his eyes slowly move down from her face to her breasts and further down to her crotch. She put a hand over her eyes and quickly asked:
“What color are my eyes?”
“Green.” He answered correctly and with out hesitation as he watched her recline on the bed.
“Now it’s your turn.” Said Gwenevere.
Lancelot stood up and removed his tunic. Like him, she couldn’t keep her eyes on his face. Her gaze stayed down to the bulging muscles of his chest and further down to his fully erect member. She patted the bed and he enthusiastically hopped into it. He kissed her deeply as his hands caressed her breasts. She hummed with pleasure as she ran her fingers through his hair and pulled him closer. He climbed on top of her and she spread her legs and guided him in. The instant he was fully in her, she felt the pulsation of him squirting his seed into her.
“I’m sorry.” Lancelot apologized. “You may not be a virgin. But up until this moment, I was.
“I know. It’s okay.” Said Gwenevere.
“At least with him I don’t have to worry about the bastard son he made with his sister coming back to haunt him.” She thought.

Anthony and Nineve had just finished making love and were cuddling and whispering to each other.
“It has been a long two years since we’ve done that. Couldn’t I see you more often?” asked Anthony.
“I’ve missed you too” replied Nineve. “I have been busy, but I think you will see more of me now, if you’d like too.”
“Oh, I would like that very much.” Replied Anthony “Since we met, I’ve been working on trying to learn Britannic. How is this?
I am crap Anthony, crap of all the Britons.”
Nineve giggled. “I think you need more work.
“Tell me. What happened to Merlin?” asked Anthony “I’ve heard a few rumours but I would like to hear what really happened.”
“Merlin and I were lovers.” She began “In addition, he was teaching me some of the magical techniques that he knew but that I couldn’t learn on Avalon. One day, while teaching me a particularly dangerous form of magic, I distracted him and he became trapped in the purple . . . in another world.
There is something else you should know. Earlier, while I was having my climax, I had a vision. Next fall, Britain is going to be invaded. The Angles will land at Arbeia. Fighting with them, will be an old friend of yours.”
Anthony sat up in alarm. He hated magic. He was inclined to discount her claim completely. But he had been expecting the Angles to invade.

King Anthony spent the next few months gathering his army preparing for the invasion. He had plenty of time to prepare and send word throughout the Kingdom that the armies were to meet at Longovicium. While the nobles were preparing for war, the peasants were producing bumper crops using the new agricultural innovations that the King had introduced to them. By mid-autumn he had gathered all of the Knights of the Round Table and their Armies at Longovicium, in Northrumbia. There was still no sign of the Angles and some of the Knights were starting to grumble. King Anthony decided the time had come to move the army to Arbeia.
Arbeia turned out to be a small town outside of an old roman fortress where Hadrian’s wall met the sea on the east coast of Northrumbia. Like most settlements in Britain, it was a patch of farmland that had been carved out of the forest that covered most of the island. The King halted his army at the edge of the forest and had them form a long battle line out of sight of the town. He fired his boot jets and took to the air so he could get a better view of the sea. Just as Nineve had said, there was a fleet of ships on the horizon headed towards him. He hoped they had not spotted him. His gold and crimson armor stood could be easily seen from a distance.
“But who in their right mind who be looking for an armored figure to be flying through the air?” Thought Anthony.
He landed in the castle. The Iron Man armor was running low on power. He had used a lot of it on the way here and there was no where he could recharge his batteries. After informing the castle’s owner, Sir Finn, that the fleet was on its way and he should bring all of the villagers into the castle and prepare for a siege, King Anthony flew back to the forest so that he could lead his army. The forest was on higher ground than the coast. This enabled them to look over the castle and at the approaching fleet. Anthony pulled a spyglass out of his saddlebag. He placed telescope up to an eye hole of his helmet so that he could get a better view. By now, there were dark clouds on the horizon. A storm was brewing. The fleet appeared to be in the midst of this storm, yet the seas were calm. He watched the fleet approach at an impossibly fast speed for sailing ships. By now, there was a strong wind blowing them in from the East. Once the fleet arrived, the Angles swarmed out of the boats and tried to storm the castle. Anthony could see them howling with rage that the gates were already locked even though he was too far away to hear them. Some of the barbarians began setting fire to the thatched roofs of the village while others went back to the ships and began assembling siege machinery, ladders, catapults and battering rams.
“How many does it look like to you?” King Anthony asked Lancelot.
“I would say about ten thousand.” replied Sir Lancelot.
King Anthony had briefed his army on his battle plan. Now it was time to implement it. He stepped forward out of the woods and into view of the invaders. As the other soldiers of his army saw him, they too came out of the woods and onto the field. King Anthony had, with great difficulty, persuaded his army to organize into units of similarly equipped soldiers rather that by mixed units grouped by who they owed fealty to.
King Anthony had put himself in the center of the battle line along with the Knights of the Round Table. There were about a thousand more lancers in plate armor like the Knights. Further out, on both sides of the line were more lancers. As you moved away from the center they got less and less heavily armored. Anthony's thinking was that the horsemen on the flanks would need to be faster and more maneuverable. Altogether, there were about ten thousand mounted warriors. Forming a second line behind the cavalry, were the foot soldiers. Their arrangement was opposite that of the lancers, with the contingent of naked warriors in the center and the more heavily armored soldiers toward the ends of the battle line. Even further out, were the peasants armed with farm tools that had been requited to help. The far end of the flanks consisted of archers. The King hoped that they would drive the enemy towards the center where the most heavily armored lancers were.
Even though the Britons had made pains not be heard, forgoing the use of trumpets or drums to coordinate their emergence from the cover of the forest, before half of them were out in the open, the Angles had spotted them. The barbarians quickly tried to form their own less orderly battle line.

Horsa was supervising the removal of one of the ship's masts so that it could be used a makeshift battering ram, when he caught a gleam of metal in his peripheral vision. He turned toward the forest in time to see an army emerging from it.
"Damn!" exclaimed Horsa. "We've been ambushed! Sound the Alarm!"
As the trumpeters began sounding their horns, which were little more than a cow's horn with the end cut off, Horsa watched the Britons continue to emerge from the forest. He was amazed at the amount of steel armor they were wearing and he saw that their spears were unusually long. He didn't think they would be able to throw them very well. Looking at their entire line, he estimated that the Britons had twice as many warriors as he did. Hastily the Angles formed their own battle line. Suddenly, the British horsemen began charging forward. In the center of their line was their King, flying low above the ground in his magical gold and crimson armor. As he saw them bearing down on him, Horsa suddenly realized what the Britons were up to. He had faced something similar in Kent, but it had only been a few lancers then, one of whom he had killed with his own axe. Accessing the situation, Horsa realized that he was facing a grave danger.
"Head for their flanks!" he called to his son, Asc, and the Anglish chieftains.
"Where the Hel is he?" Horsa thought as he wondered about the god he had requited to deal with the British King.
As the British knights plowed into them, some of their lances were deflected off of shields. A few of the lances shattered. But most of them thrust deeply into the bodies of the Anglish soldiers, Horsa was no exception as the howls of pain and rage rang throughout the countryside, Horsa couldn’t tell which voice was his own. He was losing a lot of blood from the wound in his shoulder. Just before he passed out, he estimated that he had lost a quarter of his allies in that one attack.

"Pull back." Said King Anthony, as he flew away from the barbarians. The Lancers had proven deadly to the Anglish without a single loss to the Britons. Once they got back to his foot soldiers, he signaled for them to charge again. By now, the dark clouds were directly overhead. The Britons charged forward.
Crack! Boom! A lightning bolt shot down from the sky killing Sir Nuada! Crack! Boom! Another lightning bolt shot down from the sky killing Sir Drusius! Anthony looked up at the sky and saw a familiar golden-haired, hammer-wielding figure.
"Oh no! Not him" Anthony exclaimed, remembering that Nineve had warned him that an old friend would be here.
Crack! Boom! A lightning bolt hit the Iron Man armor. Anthony felt his armor pulsing with power. For the first time since he had arrived in the 5th century, the Iron Man armor was fully charged!