Fog Lake Ferox Feast Time

“That wind is really getting up! I think we could make it home, if we leave now.”

“It is not called the Fog Lake Ferox for no reason! I had a Road Weather Alert on my phone. I think you should stay here overnight. There are a few spare rooms and I am just about to make dinner.”

“Well, if you are sure…”

“I would love you to stay.”

Arthur and Regina Penman, President and Secretary respectively of the ARC Arthurian Readers Club had spent the afternoon with Little Plump Jo, who was the current Artisan in Residence in Malory Tennyson’s Cloudbank Cabin for Arthurian Studies. Their Giant Schnoodles, Fact and Fiction, had romped with Jo’s five canine writing companions, the Dabrowski Dogs.

Now Arthur’s dog, Fact and the Border Collie, Intellectual Dabrowski were investigating the archives and picture vaults in Cloudbank Cabin.

Regina’s dog, Fiction, and the little Bedlington Terrier, Imaginational Dabrowski, were lying in front of the open fire, finding pictures in the flames.

Emotional Dabrowski, the English Springer Spaniel, was howling in tune with the wind.

Sensual Dabrowski, who hated the Fog Lake Ferox wind, had vanished under Jo’s bed.

And Psycho Motor Dabrowski, who loved the wildness of the storm was running in and out of the cabin. Each time he came in he brought news of what the Arthurian characters in the Fog Lake at the foot of the cabin were doing.

His reports were lost on Arthur Penman who, unlike his wife and Little Plump Jo, could not communicate with animals and fictional characters. Arthur was passionate about the research into archaeological and literary evidence for a real historical King Arthur. But the more Psycho Motor barked, the more Regina and Jo laughed.

“Are you sure staying for tea is not too much of an imposition?” Regina asked.

“No, it works out well.” Jo said. “I have been trying out some medieval recipes. We will eat Camelot style tonight! I have a stew cooking in the Crock Pot and some extra vegetables boiling on the stove and an apple pie in the oven.”

“So, will this be a Camelot feast in the style of Malory in the 15th century or Tennyson in the 19th century?” queried Arthur. “I do not suppose you are trying for historical 5th to 6th century meal.”

“I wanted to do a Malory’s Morte d’Arthur style meal” said Jo “but Malory does not describe the food much. He writes about a lot of feasts. Often they are celebrations of religious holidays or acknowledgment of great accomplishments. Sometimes they are mentioned as a background for an important event or as the precursor to a quest.

But I did find some good recipes on websites and blogs.”

“I see, so we will not be having potatoes, then? They came to Europe in the 16th century, about a hundred years after Malory was writing.”

“Well…”

“Oh Arthur, don’t be so pedantic! I am sure whatever you serve will be lovely” said Regina.

Psycho Motor Dabrowski came bouncing in again.

“The feast is in full swing in the Fog Lake!” he announced. “They are eating spiced lamb stew with root vegetables, breads with butter and honey, mushroom tarts, spit roasted cockentrice and venison, little cakes flavored with lavender, apple pies and fruit platters.”

“Some of them are really drunk. Sir Gawain is shaping up to anyone wearing green and bellowing ‘Off with his head!’

But Heureux, Sir Lancelot’s companion dog, won’t let Sir L drink any ale or wine, because he cannot have any with the herbals he takes. So Heureux keeps on bumping his elbow whenever he tries to drink. It’s quite funny really. Sir L is getting really frustrated with Heureux!”

“Your Psycho Motor dog is very boisterous, isn’t he!” Arthur Penman declared. “Have you considered using Relaxa-Tabs or a barking collar?”

“Sorry about that. Arthur doesn’t let our dogs bark at all. But he misses out on all the juicy gossip they could share” said Regina, winking at Jo.

“Dinner will be a while yet,” said Jo. “I have only just turned the stove on.”

“When the Society for Creative Anachronism has a feast, the members all use a historical persona name and stay in character all evening. We could do that for our meal.” Regina suggested.

“Obviously, Arthur would be King Arthur and you would be Queen Guinevere.” Jo said.

“Very well, Regina, as long as you don’t invent a Lancelot for yourself!” said Arthur.

“And who would you be, Jo?”

“ I don’t know. Maybe Princess Elaine of Corbenic."

"Oh no, there goes the power. It often goes off during the Ferox. Sit tight everyone. I’ll get the candles and ring the power company.”

“They estimate the power will be returned in four hours. My stove is electric and so is the Crock Pot. Looks like our Arthurian feast will be toasting bread by the fire and maybe jacket potatoes baked in foil in the embers.”

Half an hour later, Cliff Hanger bounded up the porch stairs, hammered on the door, blew in and stood holding the door shut with his hip.

“Blowing a gale out there! I was getting blown back five steps for every two I took forward!

My power has gone out. I just came up to see if you were ok up here. I wondered whether you have power on. I thought it might just be me but it looks as if it is the whole area."

"At least you have an open fire. It is all electric in Deer Run Cabin. I wonder if you could spare me some hot water?”

“Certainly, Cliff. Come on in and have tea with us” said Jo.

“We are having an Arthurian feast of toast with honey."

"You remember Regina, I guess, and this is her husband, Arthur Penman; or as they will be known this evening Their Majesties King Arthur Pendragon and Queen Guinevere of Camelot."

"I will be your hostess for the evening, Princess Elaine of Corbenic. And how should I introduce you?”

“You know me. I’m Clifford Hanger. You can call me Cliff.”

“What Arthurian character would you like to portray this evening, Cliff?”

“Eh? I don’t know too much about that stuff. But there is a local nutcase who pretends he is Sir Lancelot Do Something. Maybe I could be Sir Lancelot.”

There was a resounding chorus of “Oh no, you couldn’t!”

“Why not?”

So many reasons.

Arthur Penman would say 'because Sir Lancelot du Lac (his emphasis) is a literary character not a real historical member of King Arthur's band of warriors'.

Regina would say she did not want the complication of acting the part of Queen Guinevere for the evening with an illicit love interest thrown into the mix.

Malory and Tennyson would both say that the dumpy, sandy haired Cliff Hanger did not fit the description of their protagonist.

“You don’t have coal black curls!” said Little Plump Jo.