Adventures of Sir Galahad – Chapter 3: Prisoners of Ulric

OUR STORY SO FAR: When his ka-niggithood initiation goes awry after he succumbs to doctored wine—allowing a mysterious figure known as The Black Ka-Niggit to make off with Excalibur, steely-eyed and determined Galahad (George Reeves) vows he shall never rest until that sword is safely back in the hands of its owner, Arthur—King of the Britons (Nelson Leigh).  Arthur has ridden off with his men in the direction of the camp of Ulric (John Merton), Saxon king and rival for Arthur’s throne, in attempt to retrieve the sword.  Galahad, accompanied by his comic relief sidekick Sir Bors (Charles King), detours through the Enchanted Forest in search of Excalibur…and finds himself face-to-face with the mighty magician known as Merlin (William Fawcett), who casts numerous spells on our hero because he’s a bit of a dick.

Galahad, however, is spared the torments of Merlin’s sorcery by the Lady of the Lake (Lois Hall), and continues on his way until he reaches Ulric’s camp and sneaks in via subterfuge.  There, in order to move the plot along, he learns of the Ulric’s plan to attack King Arthur and his ka-niggits, and so he rides, boldly rides back in their direction to warn them.  Unfortunately, his stuntman has foolishly fallen off his horse and now lies helpless in the path of Ulric and his men as they ride over on top of Galahad….

It has been said that a horse will not trample a man lying on the ground…but I’ve never been that anxious to see as to whether or not that maxim is true, and fortunately we won’t have to witness it with Galahad.  Because even though last week we clearly saw our hero about to be stomped on by charging horses…

…this week he manages to roll out of the way.  I cannot even begin to express how pissed off this makes me—not because I was rooting for Galahad to be killed, but because the filmmakers are essentially saying: “Oh, no…that stuff you saw last week?  You must have imagined that.”  (Stick a sock in it, Charles Boyer.  I saw what I saw and I have screen captures to prove it.)

So the two forces catch up to one another, and the fighting is predictably fierce.  But not particularly exciting, since it’s basically footage of men trying to hit one another with swords, and the only way you can tell who’s fighting who is that Ulric’s men have that little nose guard on their helmet to prevent any accidents if they’re elbowed.  Galahad eventually catches up to the fighting and engages in some swordplay himself…

…for some odd reason, he’s fighting to the left in the long shots and to the right in the close-ups.  Maybe it’s some sort of Claudette Colbert thing, I can’t say.  Finally, Sir Modred (Leonard Penn) suggests to Arthur that they run fast, run far…

MODRED: Our losses are great, sire…we must retreat!

ARTHUR: No…we must fight on!

MODRED: Soon there will be no one to do the fighting!  It will be wise to withdraw and live to fight again…

Arthur then looks over to see Ulric slicing up his men with Excalibur like loafs of bread…and decides that maybe Modred has a point.  “Sound the retreat,” he tells Modred, and the horns soon blow that all-too-familiar “Let’s-get-the-hell-out-of-here” travelin’ music.

ULRIC (sneering): So these are the brave Knights of the Round Table!  Heh heh heh heh heh…look at them!  Their heels flying like frightened rats!

BARTOG: Why do we tarry here?  Let us give chase and cut them down!

ULRIC: Are you losing patience with me, my trusty Bartog?  Or is it that you’re anxious to settle yourself in Lancelot’s domain?

BARTOG: I meant no offense, m’Lord…

ULRIC: Then keep a civil tongue in your mouth!  We’ll return to camp…while Arthur licks his wounds, we’ll prepare the siege of Camelot!

That Bartog (Don C. Harvey).  He’s such a toadying lickspittle it’s kind of refreshing to see him get a right pranging from his king every once in a while.  As Ulric and his men ride back to camp, we find Galahad and Bors walking around sans horses.

BORS: …after roast venison, I shall lunch on a suckling pig…then a covey of quail, stuffed with sweet breads…and washed down by a flagon of ale…

Do you want fries with that?

GALAHAD: I’m going back!

BORS: To Ulric’s camp?

“To my little grass shack in Kealakekua, Hawaii…”

BORS: Have you lost your reason?

GALAHAD: No…I vowed to restore Excalibur to King Arthur…and I can see no reason for returning to Camelot when it’s still in the hands of Ulric…

“He’s just going to get his greasy fingerprints all over it, anyway.”

BORS: I confess there is something in what you say…but how to penetrate Ulric’s guards?

GALAHAD (clapping him on the back): We’ll find a way…

Oh, yeah…that’s inspiring.  I would follow him anywhere.  Still, the answer as to how to infiltrate the enemy camp soon arrives in a dissolve to a scene of an old peddler pleading with his mule: “Move on, I tell you!  Miserable four-legged mother to a snail…curse you and your contrary ancestors before you!”  He is then greeted by Galahad and Bors.

PEDDLER: Greetings, brave knights…

GALAHAD: Greetings…

BORS: Greetings…what manner of beast is this that stays fixed to the ground?

PEDDLER: His mother was a goat…his father a turtle…

Whoa…I guess the religious right wasn’t kidding about that whole gay-marriage-leading-to-interspecies-sex thing…

GALAHAD: What is your business?

PEDDLER: I am a peddler, illustrious knight…

BORS: Hah!  A likely story…I suppose the trees of the forest are your customers?

PEDDLER: Oh, no!  I am bound for King Ulric’s camp… (Looking around) Hereabouts…uh…perhaps you can direct me to it?

GALAHAD: Perhaps we can…

Galahad walks around to the back of the peddler’s wagon and starts rifling through the man’s wares as if he were conducting a check at the border.  He seems particularly taken with a female garment that the peddler brags “no finer garment ever came from across the sea.”

PEDDLER: …spun from the wool of cashmere…a gift to melt your lady’s heart…

BORS: Hah hah…what lady, you wretched one?

GALAHAD (pinching Bors’ cheek): I have just such a lady in mind…

“I’m not gonna dress up like a girl, and you can’t make me!”

“…you can’t make me…you can’t make me.”

GALAHAD: Truly an excellent disguise!  Come, your Ladyship…let’s be on our way…

So Bors the Drag Queen climbs up into the front of the wagon while Galahad hides himself in the back, and with a simple “Hup!” the mule starts traveling.  There’s an amusing shot here where once the wagon rolls out of view…

…we find Poor Peddler Guy tied to a tree.  “This place is full of vultures…vultures everywhere…”

Back at the Saxon Camp, Ulric and Bartog stroll out of Ulric’s tent…and because Ulric has a smug, self-satisfied look on his face I’ll spare you any speculation as to what happened in there.  (Kind of finding it hard to keep it clean this week.)

ULRIC: This is only the beginning of our successes…we shall march on Camelot, and then on to conquer Brittany…

BARTOG: You lead…I shall follow, m’Lord…

ULRIC: Come, Bartog…I shall show you a little surprise I have in store for Arthur…

Ulric and Bartog peacock-strut over to a clearing where two guards with nose protectors are standing by what appears to be the world’s largest crossbow.  “Have you proven the weapon?” Ulric asks one of the men.

“It is ready now, sire,” replies the guard, and turning to his buddy, orders him to “place a missile in the bow.”  His friend complies with the request, and then gets the order to fire.

THWANNNGGGG!!!  I kind of have to be honest…I wasn’t all that impressed (you could probably get greater distance with just a regular bow-and-arrow), but Bartog is naturally going to kiss Ulric’s ass since the alternative is the lopping off of heads over spending all that good money on a useless weapon of war.

BARTOG: It’s truly amazing, my King…

ULRIC: It is…come, Bartog—we have plans to make for Camelot’s future…

I suppose such a weapon could prove useful…if you use it once you’ve stormed the gates of the palace and all.  (“Stand over here while I pierce your heart with this honkin’ big arrow…”)  But let’s get back to the second stupid plot in this chapter…the fetching wench formerly known as Sir Bors has reached Ulric’s guard…who has apparently been out in the woods far too long since he’s eyeing Bors up and down and thinking; “Yeah, I’d hit that.”

GUARD: Get down and let me have a look at you… (Bors is helped down by the guard, who is so horny he’s oblivious to Bors’ manly footwear…which made me chuckle)  You are a comely wench…

Yes, he actually says “comely.”  I could have sworn that was spelled with an "h."

BORS (in a falsetto): Thank you, kind sir… (The guard pinches his cheek, and he slaps his hand away) Oh!  (The guard repeats the gesture, and Bors gives it to him in the breadbasket) Oh ho!

GUARD: Where are you bound?

BORS: I have gifts for King Ulric…

GUARD: Then I’ll show you to him…

BORS: Thank you!

The guard calls out to his buddy (“York!”), and when York comes over he also gives Bors’ cheek a generous pinch (which earns him a shot in the stomach, too) as the guard tells him to stand at his post.  York goes through a series of maneuvers (“Present arms!”—that sort of thing) and winds up doing this with his spear…

You can’t convince me this isn’t footage from some lost Three Stooges short.  As the guard promenades with Bors toward the camp, York notices Bors’ cross-dressing subterfuge and he calls out to his friend…who is cold-cocked by Bors before he can react.  Bors is soon surrounded by some of Ulric’s men, who start pummeling him with their fists, while Galahad…

…continues to hide in the wagon.  (You are such a weenie.)  Bors’ beatdown is finally interrupted by the arrival of Bartog and Ulric.

ULRIC: What are you doing here?  Speak!  (Bors says nothing, so Ulric slaps him…Bors then struggles with the guards) You were sent here by Arthur…were you not?  (Bors remains silent, so Ulric hits him again) Something you were seeking?  By chance a sword?  (Bors remains mute) Very well…we’ll loosen your tongue!  (To his men) Take this swine and teach him to talk!

Two of Ulric’s men drag Bors off for points unknown…and that’s when Galahad decides to climb out of his hiding place.  Back in Ulric’s tent:

ULRIC: What a fool…he sends a fat knave to filch the sword when my back is turned…

BARTOG: A desperate king resorts to any device, m’Lord…

ULRIC: If desperate he is…the time to strike at Camelot is close at hand…observe, Bartog… (Pointing to a piece of paper) Our forces are disposed here…Camelot lies there…

As Ulric gives Bartog the old “behold-my-evil-scheme” orientation lecture, Galahad is outside snooping…and peering through the same hole he made with his dagger in Chapter 2.

ULRIC: …in the darkness, our forces will move up…the advantage will be with us…

BARTOG: Why attack the east wall?  Would not the west be easier surprised?

ULRIC: Is that a suggestion…or a display of superior military prowess?

This guy does not take constructive criticism at all well.  He’ll make the perfect leader.

BARTOG: Merely a suggestion, m’Lord…

ULRIC: We will strike the east wall…

BARTOG: Yes, m’Lord…

Suddenly, a cloud of smoke appears in the other corner of the tent.  Suffering’ sorcerers—it’s none other than evil magician Merlin!  I love the reactions of Ulric and Bartog, by the way: “Nyahhhh!!!”

ULRIC: I bid you welcome, great wizard…

MERLIN: Since I am already here, you cannot do otherwise…

Asshole.

ULRIC: My campaign against Arthur goes well…today I turned him back, wielding his own sword against him…tomorrow…

“I have purchased ad time in several swing kingdoms, charging that he has gutted the work requirement in the Welfare Reform Decree…”

ULRIC: …I march upon Camelot!  I will launch the assault from the east…

MERLIN (shaking his head): I have persuaded Arthur to fortify the east wall…it is impenetrable…attack the south wall…it is weakly defended…

So while Galahad continues to practice his Peeping Thomas skills, what of Sir Bors?

One of Ulric’s men fires up a branding iron…and that loud sound you hear is the tightening of Bors’ sphincter.  Back to the tent action!

MERLIN: Excalibur will serve you well…

ULRIC: Mighty magician…how can I protect it?

“Wrap thy rascal, o noble King.”

ULRIC: Already attempts have been made to take it from me…

MERLIN: Place the sword there…on the table…

ULRIC: Do you think it wise to…

MERLIN: The sword shall be there when you have need of it…

A slightly skeptical Ulric lays the sword on the table, and Merlin walks back over to where he entered the tent.  One “a la peanut butter sandwiches” later, he has vanished.

Now, again for reasons only to move the plot along, both Bartog and Ulric leave the tent momentarily, as if they’re completely astounded by Merlin’s disappearing act and have decided to go outside to see if he’s there.  This gives Galahad the opportunity to slice through the tent and retrieve the sword.  Making certain that the two men remain outside, Galahad goes back over the table and tries to pick up the sword…

…that son-of-a-bitch Merlin has Crazy Glued it to the table.  Oh, what a panic that wizard is.  So Galahad must retreat out the same hole, and when Ulric and Bartog return they are completely oblivious to the fact that there is now a large opening in the king’s tent nor do they feel the slightest draft.

Back where Bors is being held captive, one of Ulric’s guards holds the branding iron up to his face and in a drawl so thick you could cut a hole in its tent says: “Speak now, or you’ll never speak again.”  But Galahad emerges from the rocks, and pushes the man and his confederate to the ground, grabbing Bors and running off to safety.  The two guards ineffectually chase after them, leading one to wonder just how Ulric got to be a king in the first place.  When they reach a clearing, Galahad commands Bors: “Ulric plans to attack tomorrow—you warn Arthur, I’ll try to hold them here.”  (They then run off in opposite directions, with Galahad thinking: “There’s a reason why this thing is called Adventures of Sir Galahad and not Adventures of Sir Bors.”)  But Bors stops in the distance…and looking back, watches as Galahad is rounded up by four of Ulric’s guards.

Well, you certainly saw this coming.  With Galahad tied to a post, Ulric is planning to use his new weapon of mass destruction on our hero though if the previous test was any indication Gallie stands a chance of just getting splinters from that “missile” than anything else.

ULRIC (to Bartog): Are you certain he’s the one who pursued you?

BARTOG: He’s the one …

ULRIC (to Galahad): Then you are one of King Arthur’s knights…

GALAHAD: No king has dubbed me “knight”…

ULRIC: You lie!  (He slaps Galahad across the face with his glove)

Easy there, Sir Joe of Wilson.  Geneva Convention and all that, remember?

ULRIC: You have spirit…

“Um, bwavado…a touch of dewwing-do…”

ULRIC: Now tell me what I wish to know… (Galahad says nothing) Very well…you have until the sun sets to change your mind…

Ulric and Bartog stride off.  Since the guy in charge of the gi-normous crossbow looks as if he’s still working on his GED, it is not a difficult task for Bors’ stuntman to quickly jump him and start wrestling…prompting the other two guards to rush over and help…they are all-too-easily knocked unconscious (it’s pretty lame), and Galahad is left alone, as he struggles to free himself from his bonds…

In fighting with the Crossbow Guy, Bors accidentally activates the crossbow…

…don’t you wish you were watching this in 3-D?  Take it away, Knox Manning!

MANNING: Is Sir Bors destined to meet a similar fate?  With his great sword in enemy hands, how can King Arthur survive?