Angelina The Diary

The Three Knights

AD 1199

It was a sunny morning, a Friday in my little village of Glastonbury. A few dogs were barking as they ran down the Tor of Avalon, as they always do, but a distance from the town I live in or I guess you could say by. Some people call the Tor, the Tor of Glastonbury, while others call it the Tor of Avalon. Anyway, the roosters were singing, trying to wake up the live souls of the countryside, as well as the town, and the dead ones under the Tor. There are legends you know of the priests and others who found tunnels leading around the Tor in a maze like form. Some got stuck in there never to return. I think portions of the Tor collapse on them. While others, a few that is, made it out, but went crazy. Matter of fact, my grandpa says, wasn't all that long ago when three priests came out of the tunnel in a half looking daze. They were never the same again.

Angelina is my name, I am 13 years old, but will be 14 by the time this diary is finished, I hope. Anyway, I walked by the big Yew trees not far from the Tor, as I do most everyday, thinking about its legend of the giants that were called by the names, Gog and Magog, the Bible proclaimed these names to mean other things I guess; my grandmother told me so. I mentioned them because I love climbing them, and it will become a part of an ugly situation I must explain in this diary. I love climbing those trees. They are like grandfathers to me, big, and a little clumsy, but always calm, and comforting. My real grandpa that is, you know, how they smile and everything seems to turn all right.

I was always safe within their branches of the big yews. I could see all around the area from high up in their ancient old branches. I sure miss them even as I write this down this very minute. You know, I could see Chalice Hill, the Tor, some farm land to the East, and Wearyall Hill to the Northwest. Sometimes if I climbed high enough I could see the River Brue.

As I was saying, this morning I was walking down the hill to the village where on one side the Tor is, and the other the yews. The two most soul gripping landmarks around in our area, except for my lovely city of Glastonbury, where none other than the great King Arthur is resting in peace at the Abbey, I would soon walk by there, and onward to visit my grandfather, who lived alone by the Abbey. It was to be my 14th birthday tomorrow. I would not be a kid after that, yaw, no more a kid. It's funny, one day you are, and the next you're not. But mama says we all grow up so fast, us kids that is; but I was looking forward to be a growing woman, or so I felt. And somehow by the time I'm done with this diary, I will again. Something in my body tells me this. I can't put a finger on it, but you know what I'm talking about, don't you? Sure you do.

Oh, a good thing went through my mind,-- as I walked down the second hill leading into Glastonbury, it went through my mind the news that everyone was talking about, which was that the Crusades were ending, if not over. It takes a while for the word to get back sometimes to our village. The word was, King Richard the Lion Hearted was coming home. He never did stay much in England though, always off to war it seemed, but none-the-less, he is a brave king, much like King Arthur, a king to be loved and feared, and most of all, admired. I love them both so very much. There are not other such kings I've ever heard about, from France or Germany that were so great. And someday, I would find my king, my prince to marry. Whoever he is, when I marry him, he will be like one of them two. They are my heroes. I know I'm a dreamer, mother says so, but dad says dreams come true, and then he whispers in my ear, "Just look, I married your mother," and we laugh, but mom, she doesn't know our secret. Oh dad's so much fun.

But I know I'm still young, although I'm developing well for a young woman. My breasts are starting to show through my dresses now; they hurt sometimes, and are hard, but my girlfriends all tell me it's the way things are, you know, part of becoming a woman. They also tell me to cross my legs so the boys don't look up my dress. I can't believe boys do that. Mom never told me that, nor dad, or for that matter grandpa.

As I was saying, I am developing, and I do notice a few boys looking at me, so I must be a little pretty. I have a slim waist which I know is eye catching for the boys, they tell me so, and they like to put their hands on it as if to measure it, but I slap their hands right off. I'm not as dumb as they think I am. I pretend not to know many things. I think they think that's attractive, for some odd reason; --I think they feel more complete then.

And I really do not want to compete, nor do I care for any boy around here. My married partner will be a knight, a prince, a king maybe. He will take me by the hand and I will know instantly he is my mate to be. It will be love at first sight. Oh, yes. Grandpa says it's possible. And some of my girlfriends think I'm foolish to follow such a fairy tale dream. But look at King Arthur, he married Guenevere. She was beautiful, and I will be also. That is why I am taking care of myself now.

My hair is growing long like hers. I know she was a princess before she married King Arthur, but...but, you know, it's possible. Grandpa says it is. I know she was a betrayal to Arthur, but I will not be to my husband. Oh no, not me. I will be passionate, wise and he will be courageous. I still like Guenevere, she is not a true heroine though, but grandpa says we do things out of nature, I guess that means evil enchants us some how. And it strikes deadly blows that are what happened to King Arthur and Guenevere I think.

Tomorrow

My eyes and hair were like the sun shinning over the Tor, so very soft looking, when I looked at them in my mirror. I was a beauty, and would be fourteen years old in one day, tomorrow is my birthday. Some of my friends got married at 13, but I was going to wait until 15, my grandfather told me it was wise that I become more learned before I take such a step. And I wanted to be wise like Guenevere; and so I would wait.

One of the things I loved the most, especially when I walked to my grandfather's house was walking by, and sometimes playing in the Abbey on top of the Tor [400-feet up]; it could be a long walk up the hill, but when everyone was gone, I'd climb up, and pretend I was a ball, rolling down the slopes or as someone was chasing me; I'd roll over the terraces of the Tor, by the cows, and sometimes end up on my knees. They'd be green like the grass, but it was fun. It is just a manmade hill, some people say, but I know it is much more; and so do the cows that graze there, and chase me.

When I wanted to stop rolling down its slopes I'd grab the long grass; it was so strong, I think its roots went right to the top of the Tor, or all the way to the Yew trees.

Sometimes I felt I never wanted to grow up and have to deal with men, and chores. Just roll down the hill of the Tor, and visit the Abbey in the village where the great king was buried. Then my body seemed to think different at times when I got thinking about heroes, and cute looking boys.

My stomach would ache recently thinking about my hero, who he would be. I'd even dream about him. But who could match my King or knight, my choice, which could be nothing less. But God would not give me somebody I didn't want, --I knew that. And so if I have to wait until I'm 16 or even 17, I will.

I started skipping down the rest of the hill, by the Town Abbey, which was to my left, and so I turned to the left to walk along its side as I always do, that way I could see King Arthur's grave site through the stone walls. The walls were in sections, and parts were somewhat destroyed by a fire, and this one section was lowered because of wars long ago, portions of the Abbey were laying about, like great stone monuments. Grandpa remembers the Abbey when it was all together. He said it was grand as grand can be. Like that Cathedral I hear they are building in Paris-France, Notre Dame, and Westminster Abbey in London Town.

Soldiers

Then all of a sudden three soldiers rode up by me, they seem to come from out of nowhere. I was a little startled, my eyebrows went up, and I caught my breath for a moment, I stretch my neck to look up at the three men on horseback; they seem to be like towers to my small frame, for I was only 5' feet tall. They looked massive as the sun reflected off their faces, and shields tied to their horses, and long, very long swords attached to their sides. It was like they were shinning all over the place.

The horses had armament all over them, and the soldiers had huge looking faces, beards, and big belts that looked like they could put around a tree. Their skins were golden bronze, like leather, and two had red hair; one, the younger one, had black hair.

As I continued looking up at them, I was dumfounded, speechless, my throat went dry, not sure why, but it did. I just didn't expect three huge knights to stop. They were from the Crusades I told myself, heroes of war I told myself. The horse's nostrils were steaming, trying to grasp some more air. It evidently was a long ride. Sweat was pouring off their mane, and bellies. You could see their stomachs going in and out trying to get more air.

"Good day sirs, my name is Angelina. Can I help you with direction?" I said with a sigh of relief once I got my shock feeling in place.

Some jewelry was dangling from all of the wrists of the knights. I remember walking by the Inn down in the village and the knights that stopped by for ale used to say it was warn by the Arabs to keep demons at a distance, to distract. So they must be from the Holy Land, although I heard the war was over about five years ago, when I was but a youngster. I think this 3rd Crusade lasted about five years, or so I was told. I can't believe they are still returning home, but maybe.

They were strangers. I smiled, and the more innocent I looked with my smile and confused, the more these three looked at one another. Then all three started staring at me as if they were lost for words; again, for the second time they looked at one another: --nodding as if it was a signal, and then they started to dismount.

I smiled again, and pointed to the grave of my hero King Arthur, thinking that is what they wanted to see, for many, even past kings, had come to his grave site to pay their respects.

As all the three were dismounted, I looked around kind of nervous because no one really said anything, some grunts and staring but not really any words. I noticed there was really no one about. But why I was looking about anyway, I asked myself.

Now I caught the eyes of the huge one, the one that seemed to be the leader. He had bushy red hair, as he took the inside of his helmet off his head, which looked like a cashmere [goat] scarf, keeping his hair in place, it evidently was used for his helmet, which he tucked into the metal helmet as he tied his horse to the nearby tree.

I looked up at him, he was the tower of Babel, I had read about in the Bible, and Mom read the story to me. There were not many bibles around, and most women could not read, but mama could, and the bible was given to her by the Abbey priest years ago before the Abbey burnt down. She would clean out the stables and the Abbey free for him, for years, and in return he taught her to read.

He was twice my size in height it seemed, and three-times, if not more times my weight, I think. I know I was less than 100-lbs, dad kids me about that. But he says I will grow and develop soon.

He then took off his sword from his belt, and tied it someway to the horse, I looked at the other two, and noticed I was the main focus of them also, so I discovered as my heart started to beat twice as fast, almost jumping out of my chest; it was not the grave site they were interest in, I know that now, it was... is "Me.......

Meeeeeeeeee! Oh no, really meeeeeee they wanted. "But why, I am just a kid? Answer me." They pretend not to hear me.

He started smiling now, not sure why, the huge one, the "big...fat pig, heeeeeeeeeiiissssssssss looking at meeeeeee

eeeeee again."

I turned my face, I don't want to look at him anymore, he's going to do something, and I don't want to see it. Oh, he is ... pissing by the tree, and it is hanging out, his...his, you know...snake... I don't want to see."

I am looking at the red headed soldier now, he is tall and thin, but older than the other two; he has some wrinkles around his eyes, forehead, and sun spots on his hands. But he looks rugged, tough.

And the Black Hair Boy, he is in his early 20's I think, he is younger, and kinder looking than the other two, not sure if he is English or one of those Islamic-Arabs. He does not have a white completion, he has a straight nose and square jaw, piercing blue eyes though, long black hair; where did he get those blue eyes, and they do not go with the rest of him for some odd reason; his skin is more bronze, a natural color, not all from the sun. On his saddle he has an Arabic number " " not sure what it means, I think it is a symbol though. I have just noticed on the tall thin man's arm a tattoo, it is a cross of sorts, " . I don't want to turn around and see that huge man, he scares me.

The huge one grabbed me by the waist and lifted me up like a toy, like a small watermelon I suppose you could say, jumped over the stone wall and is carrying me over to the Abbey Barn. The other two I see right behind me. I feel like a cow, a bundle of hay being carried, my head is bobbing up and down. The two are starting to smile I'm kind of upside down. He's walking faster, my side is hurting me. He is caring me with one arm around my waist and I think I just kicked him in the face.

"Ouch," he just hit my butt,-- slapped it. The other two are starting to laugh. I thought the young one was kinder, but he is like the tall thin one.

"Ouch, ouch..."He is pinching my legs, "STOP...PP...please ss

sss sssSS."

He is bringing me into the barn. I don't believe this. He just threw me on my back onto the ground; I can see the towering beams staring at me from above, I feel like passing out; I think I hurt my spine.

He's tearing off my garments, and the other two are just staring at me.

Why do they not do something?

The First Knight & Angelina

"Please stop him..." I cried.

All they do is stare at me as he is doing this; my pretty dress.

I just kicked dirt in his face from the barn floor.

"Ouch..." he just slapped my face, if he does it again, I will pass out. He is very strong.

I am looking at the sides of the barn I never really noticed before, and I've been in here a hundred times, it is made of brick, that is why it is so cool in here, and now, now my body is naked, and they are all staring at me. Oh God, now what?

The windows are in the form of crosses, circles, light coming through them. The two men are still standing by me, watching the huge one. The young one just staring, I can see his eyes, but he is looking at my legs, and the huge one spread them apart.

And the tall thin one has a smirk on his face.

The huge one just threw my torn dress to my side; I lay there bare before these beasts. They are not heroes. I want to close my eyes, sleep I do not want to know what they are going to do next. I know.

I am naked, naked..."Stoppppppppp..." the more I cry the more the big man pushes my legs apart.

The young one and the thin one are grabbing my wrists now.