What happened next

The lady in the white flowing cloak was silhouetted against the sulpherous sky. She beckoned to a young, tousled infant, dressed in some old sacking and wiping his nose on his sleeve. She, skillfully scooped him, cleverly avoiding the snot on his sleeve: "Please my infant can you show me where the Skye reporter lies, I have great need of him" The brat squirmed in her arms and tugged his forelock as he had seen his father do, when meeting the great and the good. "Pray miss he be yonder in them group of people. He came to grief at the ands of them there critters but he better now. Recovered afterr some of that there wonderful elixir of William de Smythe; it be truely magic". She guided her steed towards the group, at the same time tossing her beautiful blonde hair from her face and of course holding the child. She was really talented, an epitomy of multi-tasking; a credit to sisters and obviously esteemed by many, including the milling group of people. She, careefully set the young boy down and dismounted. He scuttled away into the trees, overawed by the pomp and circumstance of the group and yes he knew his place in the scheme of things. She brushed down her raiments and noticed with annoyance that her pristine cloak was now a dirty yellow. "Greetings my friends. I wish to parley with the gentleman from Skye. Has he quite recovered from the dreadful assault on his senses and of course his physique?" The group hushed and .............

William stepped forward and gasped at how beautiful her face was even though her gown was now dirty. 'Wow, yes I am William mam' he stammered and his cheeks blushed bright red. Cedric chuckled at his embarrassment but he could understand why her beauty sent all the guys wobbly.

Cedric preferred earthy type women who he could roll inn the hay not delicate damsels with porcelain skin. The blonde beauty tossed her hair and said" You are a fine figure of a man Will but I've been sent for the Skye reporter. You have a fine figure and I'll deal with you later". Will smirked because already his imagination was working overtime. The reporter sidled up, miccrophone still clasped in his hand." Ah my good man I hear you have a scoop for me. Pray hand over your scroll and I will take to the monks for quilling" The reporter sideled up; wincing and mincing, tottering and with eyes spinning. "fair maid I know not what you mean. I have been smited by a weird creature and my head is still spinning. I have been sore-used. William de Smythe has come to my aid. I do have this, though." He brandished his smart phone. The fair maiden, stepping backwards, regarded the object in his hand. "Pray what is this? We are in the Middle Ages! What is this new fangled abomination?" The hack's forehead furrowed. How dare this maiden question his technology. This wonderful phone that could do so much for mankind. Tension mounted.

Then he thought for a minute of course this technology was way ahead of it's time in the middle ages! 'I can play this then your man can write what I say in the contraption.' he said. The maiden pulled a face at him, 'Lets see how it goes' she said a little fearful of the alien machine. 'Okay' said the reporter.

"Or better still we could google and find out what these weird creatures are and if any one in the realm has encountered them. Or even find oout their means of communication. Then I really could get my scoop." "Googling" uttered the damsel. "Is that like yodelling. I know,many miles away North, the people make rhythmic sounds that echo round snow capped mountains". Will ran up clasping two crude coke cans and a long piece of twine, in his hand. We could use these to communicate. They are metal, the tricatops I mean. Surely any sounds they made would reverberate really well. Cedric, mon amie, is a shaman and could tune in, especially if he imbibed some of my magic elixir. (He liked to sprinkle his speech with odd french phrase to illustrate the wonders of his mind and he was also mindful of the profit that could be made by flogging some more of his elixir) Cedric has special powers and with help can move backwards and forwards in time, much like an astrologist. I have taught him well but alas I can no longer work any magic. My batteries need charging and the art is dying in me." Cedric pulled himself up to his five feet. "Will" he said, stamping his foot like any good drama queen. "I don't think believe that.................."

but then I don't believe any of this. The whole thing is the product of some deranged mind.' I shouldn't be surprised if