"Wait," said Morgana pausing to gaze in a pocket looking glass, "That's Princess Constance's father's army?"
She snickered.
"Go back into the keep and unpack, we're going to have some fun," Morgana chuckled. Then she held up the
jarred princess, and asked, "I should have asked what country you were a princess of before I panicked. An
army indeed, perhaps more than a tenth of your nation's population march against us, but your country is Grand
Piggywiffle has a scant population of 250 men, women and children. I can deal with an army that size with my
eyes closed. And most of them look to be farmers and laborers that your father drafted into service."
Maedel asked, "Thirty men is an awful lot, are you sure we shouldn't flee?"
"Honey, I can flatten the lot with one hand. When she said army, I pictured thousands of troops. I
overestimated her, as much as she underestimated me. Haha," Morgana said. Then waving her hand she shouted,
"Inside now! They'll be here soon."
"Your highness, are you sure that we should be doing this? Perhaps you should offer Constance's hand in
marriage to the valiant prince who rescues her? That's what most kings do," said Sir Victor, as his armor
clanked. The armor had been made for him when he was young and robust, but he had shrunken with age, and now
it hung loosely on his frame.
"Prince Valiant prefers men to women, why would he rescue her? No, no, I have to do it myself. Besides I have
a plan for dealing with Morgana. Tell the guardsmen to turn right at the crossroads," King Constantine
ordered.
"I didn't mean Prince Valiant, sire, I meant - but Morgana's keep is left at the crossroads," befuddled Sir
Victor said.
"Yes, she is left, and my army is going right. Understand? Now make sure they go the direction, I ordered.
"Yes, sire." He wanted to ask if they were still going after the princess. Perhaps the king meant to raise
more troops from the villages along the other road. Victor delivered the orders.
High in her tower, Morgana gazed at the road leading to her keep. The army should be here any minute she
thought rubbing her hands together. Time always seemed to go so slowly when you were waiting for something to
happen. An hour passed, and she started to pace. Finally, she teleported to her mirror to see what had become
of the army she planned to turn into playing cards. She stared at the progression of the army, and soon
realized they had taken the wrong path. She laughed so hard she fell on her rump.
"They took the wrong road. Some rescue,Princess!" she laughed, "And I was worried about them?"
She decided to turn her attentions on Princess Connie, and not worry about the army. They were no threat.
The king ordered his men to form an encampment. Then he took his most trusted men: Ardent the Fowler, Jolly
the Jester, Marcus the Smith and Sir Willem (the youngest knight).
"Sir Victor, you are in charge of the men, while we are away," the king said.
"But sire, I should go with you," Victor protested.
"I need you here my trusted liege man, you are the most experienced of my men, and will have the camp running
smoothly when I return."
It was an old but long disused path that the king and his four trusted companions ventured down. The wood was
black with age, and dense. More than once a sword was used to clear the path. The dense trees all around made
the path's direction clear in spite of the brush. The wood was entirely silent except for the noise of the
armed men. At last they came to a clearing. There on a stump in the middle of the clearing roosted a black
bird. The fowler readied a snare, but the king stayed him.
"What brings you this way, king?" challenged the bird.
"I seek assistance against the witch Morgana. She holds my daughter Constance captive."
"Still playing her same old tricks, I see. Well, if you will do me a favor, I will help you," said the bird.
"But beware the favor I will ask is not without risk."
"My companions and I will do your favor in exchange for your boon, oh wise black bird," the king said. His
companions looked askance, but were quiet.
"Verily, go down the path between the two birch trees, and you will find an ogre. He has stolen my fine gold
cloth. Bring it to me."
"As you wish," the king nodded, and led his companions down the path between the white trees.
"Sire," whispered the fowler when he thought they were out of earshot, "Can a bird's help really defeat
Morgana? And is it worth tangling with an ogre? I hear they have transformation spells. We might all end up
worms for the bird to eat."
"The blackbird is not unknown to my family. She is in fact a family secret. She doesn't care for the ogre,
but I suspect he too may become an ally, and an ogre will give Morgana pause."
"Yes, sire," said the fowler thoughtfully.
They came out into a large clearing surrounded by blackberry bushes. It appeared deserted, but the king
stayed his men bidding them not to enter. He perceived that the clearing was encircled by mushrooms or
toadstools, and he could smell the magic at work. He drew his sword and buried it cross wise in the circle
breaking it.
Suddenly, they beheld that the clearing was not so clear. Trenches filled with pickets and skeletons of
adventurers appeared before them. Beyond the trenches was a black stone hut.
"Clever, knight," said an oily voice from no place in particular.
"Ah, you must be the great ogre of whom we have heard such acclaim," said the king loudly.
"You have heard of me?"
"Indeed, we were told that you had some yellow cloth or was it gold for sale, and I need to purchase a
suitable tribute for the evil witch Morgana to ransom my daughter."
"Gold cloth? The bird sent you," said Ogre, "But she wants the cloth for herself, and you want it for
Morgana. Heh, heh, oh, this will be fun, for you have to get by her to get to Morgana."
"She's only a blackbird," whispered the fowler.
The ogre snickered.
"Well, I might just sell you the cloth. If you give it to the bird, I can always steal it again. If you give
it to Morgana, I'll just steal it from her. Now let me tell you my price," the ogre said materializing just on
the other side of the trench.
"You were that carrion beetle," said the king.
"I can be many things. If you want the cloth, you must go on a quest for me. It will be dangerous."
"I want the cloth, but tell me of the quest first."
"You must go down the path by the dead oak, and retrieve from the dragon who lives in the cave at the end of
that path my gold skull cap."
"Dr-r-ragon?" whispered the jester nervously.
"A gold skull cap is worth more than any cloth," said the king, "We will get your skull cap in exchange for
the cloth and for your aid against Morgana."
"You will end up dragon fodder, but if you survive and retrieve the cap, I will gladly aid you."
"Thank you, Ogre, now may we pass to take that path?"
"You must stay outside the circle of mushrooms, if you or your companions step inside the circle then
transformed will the transgressor be."
So the men hugged the edge of the clearing, and worked their way around to the path the ogre had designated.
Just as the king and his companions reached the path one of the men slipped on a loose stone and fell
backwards into the ring of toad stools. He vanished, and in his place...