The Field Trip

The yeoman hefted the billhook over his shoulder and lifted the grill from his face. He nodded a greeting to his companion. The young man nodded back and leant heavily on his pike.

“Dude, I am bushed. This is such bullshit,” he said.

“Oh, dude, I am so there, man.” The yeoman held out a gauntleted fist. The pikeman knuckled-bumped him. “So they said, go for the siege of Calais. Blood and honour, man. And what have I done? Run up and down the beach. Man, I’ve not even got within swinging distance, you know? The only blood I’ve seen is from a blister.”

“I know, I know. Look.” He lowered his pike. “Only the biggest blade I’ve ever held, and it’s still clean. See that? What a waste.”

“You got any weed?”

“Not even regular smokes. Bastards said it would be anachronistic. Like, I’d offer one to Henry IV, you know?”

“You know what? Screw this. The next charge, I’m going to jack a horse.”

“Ha, yeah. Go for it.”

“No, like, I mean it, dude. I’ll just jump on some horse while the knight is, I don’t know, jousting or something.”

“You ever ridden a horse?”

“How hard can it be? You don’t need a licence, you don’t need to pass a test, you know? You just shout ‘Ha!’ and hang on. The horse, it steers for itself. I ride a motorcycle, and that means using the throttle, the brakes, the clutch, the gears, everything, plus steering and keeping upright. How much harder can a horse be? Get a horse, ride in and swing my blade, you know? It’s got to be better than this.”

The two foot-soldiers fell silent as a troop of men trudged past.

“Hey, you had any action?” said the pikeman, after the squad passed. “You know, with a chick?”

“Are you joking? Have you seen the skanks that follow the army? Besides, what’s ‘get your tits out for the lads’ in twelfth-century French?”

“You know Thompson, did the field trip last year to Renaissance Vienna? Reckoned he did a contessa in exchange for a Hershey bar and quarter of Jack Daniels .”

“Thompson is a liar. I know for a fact he can’t get it up unless he’s listening to Black Sabbath, and he’s not going to be able to smuggle an iPod out here.”

“Black Sabbath? Dude, my dad listens to them.”

“Yeah? Maybe that’s where he got it from.”

“What? Listen -”

“Hey, you two!” A man-at-arms marched up to them. “Come on, what are you doing? The rest are ready to leave. The portal is opening in five minutes. You were meant to be over there a quarter of an hour ago.”

“Sorry sir, but I don’t have a watch.”

“Of course you don’t. This is medieval France, you idiot. That’s the whole point. Come on, or we’ll leave you behind. And I’ll want a decent essay from you this time. This one goes towards your final history grade, remember that.”

And the teacher chivvied his wards back towards their waiting peers


About snodlander
Snodlander is the nom de plume of Bob Simms. He is an IT trainer, but it's not as glamourous as it sounds. When he's not enthralling classes with adventures through SQL Server, he writes, draws and drinks his own home-brew. Buy his novel on Amazon Kindle at The Young Demon Keeper, It's 74p, for crying out loud!

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