The storm was one of the worst for several years; the lightning flashed, the thunder rolled, the rain lashed down in torrents, and the wind grew ever fiercer, rattling the shutters of the little village inn. The villagers inside sipped their ale, and chatted half heartedly while they listened nervously to the tumult outside. Suddenly the door was flung open, crashing against the wall; the villagers jumped and looked around in terror, and saw a Knight standing there, his helmet plumes broken and bedraggled and water streaming off his armour onto the floor, and by his side an enormous dog – a shaggy haired, very muddy and sodden wet dog – wearing a saddle - from whom the water streamed just as heavily as from his master. The Knight looked around the room, kicked the door shut again with his boot, then, followed by his hound, clanked and squelched his way across the room to the innkeeper and asked for food and shelter for the knight himself and his dog. The innkeeper asked “And what about your steed sire?”, and the Knight explained that, lost in the storm, he had ridden into a bog, the faithful dog had dragged him to safety, but they had been unable to rescue the horse, and he had been obliged to ride the last few miles to the village on the dog.
Now the villagers had all been listening in to the conversation, and as soon as the Knight had finished his sorry story there was a sudden buzz of conversation. The villagers didn`t like Knights, they were for ever chasing about on horseback, breaking down the fences, doing battle with other Knights, fighting dragons, and generally behaving in an irresponsible manner – usually all over the villagers` crops – or pig-sticking the villagers` pigs, or riding off with their maidens. Several villagers were all for chucking the Knight out into the storm, hoping that his armour might be struck by lightning, and told the innkeeper not to let the Knight stay, while others were afraid that if they did so the Knight might come back later with his mates and sort them out and lay waste to the village, and they were shouting to the innkeeper to let the Knight stay. The argument between the two sides grew fiercer, the shouting grew louder, tempers were lost and fists were shaken. Outside the storm reach its peak, the thunder crashed directly overhead, the rain lashed down and dripped through the thatch, and the shutters rattled and banged in the wind, while the Knight sat gently steaming by the fire, his armour slowly rusting to a delicate shade of orange, and his faithful dog lay with the mud drying into a crust on his coat and an ever widening puddle spreading across the floor around him.
Eventually the noise got so loud that the innkeeper`s wife, who had been brewing ale in the back room, came in to see what it was about. The situation was explained to her, with all the assembled villagers shouting their several opinions at the tops of their voices. The innkeeper turned to her and asked “What are we to do, then? Can he stay, or should we chuck him out into the storm?.
The innkeeper`s wife stood there, thoughtful. She looked at the assembled company, listened to the roaring and crashing of the thunder outside, and the shutters rattling and banging, and she looked at the rain dripping through the thatch, and then at the woebegone Knight and his miserable steed, and she decided…….
“You can`t send a Knight out on a dog like this!”
