As Charly lay upon the sofa in a world of darkness, he thought that he heard Grant’s familiar voice whisper to someone, “He’s starting to wake up. You had better scarper.”

Charly slowly opened his eyes and saw his old and lamented friend staring down at him. He recognised the long grey beard of course which he was gently stroking.

“Awake are we?”

Charly sat up groggily as the cat looked down from the headrest.

“For someone who’s supposed to be dead, you look pretty well to me.”

“You have my apologies,” Grant said. “None of this was my doing.”

“What’s it like being dead?”

Grant smiled.

“The same as life really. Only more boring.”

Charly rubbed his sore head as his friend stared at him.

“How I explain this to the DI I’ve no idea.”

“He is the least of our worries mate.”

A scuffing sound from the bedroom took Charly’s attention.

“Did you bring anyone?”

Grant shook his head and called out, “You had better come in here mate. You’ve been rumbled.”

A tall, medium built gent entered the lounge at once. Charly stared in mounting disbelief at the golden crown, the blue eyes, and full cheeks. A suit of gleaming armour was finished off by a jewelled sword belt.

“Oh this is just far too much,” Charly muttered, closing his eyes again.

“You must wake up!”

Grant slapped his cheek gently.

“You are awake mate. Meet Henry the Ninth.”

Charly glared back as the monarch approached.

“There were only eight by the way.”

“I’m your future king Charly. I wanted to surprise you and that is why I resurrected your old friend.”

“However did you manage that feat?”

The king pointed out his large sapphire ring.

“We really have to talk you know,” the king said.

“Go ahead, I’m all ears.”

As Grant sat upon the armchair, the king told his sorry tale.

“In my time your world is a hellish place. Despite this, I managed to marry Anabelle, who became my queen. She turned out to be right hag, if there ever was one.”

“Go on, I’m listening.”

“She tried to grab my throne and when that failed, she returned through time to undo history itself.”

“So you followed her.”

“You got it in one mate,” Grant said cheerfully.

“At this present moment, she is gathering an army to the east of Foxley Wood.”

“For what purpose?”

“To lay the town waste my friend.”

Charly took this on board as usual, but could still not make the proper connection.

“I hate to be awkward but how will that change history?”

The king smiled.

“My mother will be born here.”

Now Charly understood.

“So there are the three of us and the DI’s men of course, facing an army of what?”

Grant was astonished.

“What’s got into you mate? You are a bit slow on the uptake today.”

“How about lack of sleep?”

“Oh I see. He’s just a bit tired.”

The king shook his head sadly.

“There shall be no sleep today my friend. For today, a mighty battle
will be fought in Foxley. A battle that will literally decide the future of England.”

The grand words did not impress this tired man.

“We could do with an army of our own really.”

The words had just tumbled out when he saw the king smiling.

“You have reinforcements?”

“They will be here shortly. A mighty force to smite the evil witch.”

Grant nudged Charly’s arm.

“Sounds great eh?”

Charly nodded.

“At least it will even the odds a little.”

The king smiled and pulled his sword from its sheath.

“This mighty blade shall cut them to pieces.”

“Wait a second,” Charly said. “I just realised. Knights of old. You are talking about horses and lances and that sort of thing.”

“Not forgetting the mighty bowmen,” the king added.

Charly sank his head into his sweating palms.

“Whatever’s the matter with you?” Grant asked.

“The event I warned the cops about has finally arrived.”

“Should have kept your mouth shut then mate.”

Charly stood and wandered over to the drinks cabinet. After pouring a stiff Grouse, he slurped it down.

“How I needed that.”

Turning slowly he said, “I need to know where your army will deploy?”

“At Baker’s Farm. We shall dominate the high ground.”

Charly thought this over for a moment.

“With you there and Anabelle at the wood, our town is slap bang in the middle. There is going to be utter carnage!”

“This is sadly true,” the king said. “You can’t make an omelette, without breaking a few eggs first.”

Charly was rightfully horrified.

“What about the people though? Do you really want them diced in the cross fire?”

“In my day such things happen regularly my friend.”

“Not in my day they don’t!” Charly shrieked. “We treat people with respect. We don’t invite them to a right royal carve up!”

“There is no other way,” the King insisted.

“What about the woman who will give birth to your mother? What if she is killed this day?”

Grant already knew the answer.

“She’s in London. Apparently doing a course on fly fishing.”

Charly stared hard at them both.

I take it that the queen does not know this?”

“Her intelligence is not as clear as my own,” the king replied.

“There must be another way to settle your differences.”

The king shook his head sadly.

“During the revolt, I narrowly avoided one of her arrows. Do you really think a king can forgive such an act? My name sake would have chopped her head off.”

Charly glared at him.

“It’s a damn pity you didn’t do that in the first place. It would have saved us all a hell of a lot of grief!”

He tried to calm down but in vain.

“When does your ruddy army arrive?”

“In about three minutes. Battle shalt commence seventeen after this.”

Charly shook his head.

“That’s not really enough time.”

“It’s all we have,” Grant assured him.

Charly snatched the mobile from the coffee table and rang a number.

“Morning Nixon, bit of a flap on here. Just listen will you. Do we still have that wartime siren?”

“Of course we do,” the DI replied.

Just listen for a change. I want it activated in precisely twenty minutes. Not one second later. Do you understand?”

“Whatever for mate?” the stunned DI said.

“Just listen very carefully. If you don’t do this, everyone in
Foxley will be killed. Including the two of us.”

“I’ll certainly set it off then visit you for an explanation.”

“It will be too late by then detective inspector Nixon. Far too late.”

He switched off and placed the phone upon the table once more.

“We had better go to the farm then,” he muttered. “Your army will be waiting.”

Before leaving, Charly removed the binoculars from his drawer and led them outside to the old mini.

“You kept it mate.”

“Of course I did Grant. It may be clapped out and rattle a bit but it’s the damn best car in town.”

He threw his friend the keys and slid into the passenger side as the king settled into the rear.

“To the farm,” the king ordered. “Make haste now, or we lose this day.”

As the mini approached the old farm, an astonished Charly saw lines of gleaming warriors. As they stopped and got out, he simply gawped for once.

“Impressive eh?” Grant said.

“I have two lines of horse, one line of pike and three lines of archers. Anabelle is in for quite a shock.”

Charly gazed at the gleaming knights and wished that he could mount up. To his adult eyes, this was a childhood dream come true.

He glanced toward the distant wood and peered through the viewfinder.

“Your queen’s force is about half your size I think.”

Handing them over to the king, he muttered with a wink, “I think we shall triumph Grant.”

The king viewed the enemy force and marched towards a vacant white charger. Before he trotted to the fore, Charly shouted, “How can we help?”

As if in response, a pike man handed them two lethal weapons and pointed to the waiting spaces.

“Seems as though we were expected,” Grant muttered.

At that precise moment, a truly terrifying warbling filled the air as the doomsday siren blared its clarion call. Across the town, terrified shoppers and police alike dashed for the nearest cover.
Within the station, DI Nixon led Sergeant Percy outside.

“Come on man! We have to see Charly now. He must need our ruddy help.

Upon the hill at Baker’s farm, the proud and noble king raised his sword toward heaven and shouted the immortal line. Known throughout Britain’s noble history.

“For King and country!”

The knights moved off at once and Charly and Grant followed the pike men down behind them. As they advanced, the archers moved in tandem.

Within Foxley, the officers had just climbed inside the panda car as the first salvo of lethal arrows showered down. As they smashed off the roof, the DI asked desperately “What’s going on?”

“They look like arrows sir. Where from though?”

Queen Anabelle’s archers had fired the first shot and her smaller army began pouring into town. A counter volley of arrows was launched from the king’s army, that reigned down upon all and sundry.

“We had better get back inside!” the DI shouted. “Charly can go to hell for once.”

As they dived out, sergeant Percy was struck in the chest by a descending projectile. He staggered and went down as the DI ran to help. The horrified officer knew death when he saw it.

“You bastards! You bloody bastards!”

The king’s troop had entered the town, and his advance was met by the queen’s knights. As the mighty army clashed, the king was forced to retreat as the maces crashed around him. An enemy charged the king’s horse but the monarch was far too experienced for that.

He swung his steed, and the sword caught the knight square on and the wounded man toppled to the ground.

“Fall back,” he shouted. “Fall back.”

Outside the station, the DI saw an impossible sight.

From either end of the street, two lines of pike were approaching fast.

He hollered for support as the siren continued to blare, but no one could hear now.

Diving beneath the car, he watched as the armies met head on. The mighty pikes slashed and pushed against each other, as the air was rent with the wounded and the dying. Among this lot stood Charly and Grant, who were now fighting side by side for their very lives.

Just as they seemed to get the upper hand, a knight rode up.

“The king has called us back. You must break off.”

The pike men turned and fled in absolute disarray as the queens men cheered and screamed. Trapped beneath the exposed panda car, the DI managed to get his hands upon a fallen pike. Sensing that the enemy was at least distracted, he slid out from the far side and brandished the weapon for all he was worth.

The queen’s men turned at this unexpected threat.

“Come on then!” the DI shouted. “See if you lot are man enough!”

As Nixon stared at the enemy, a rider in shining armour suddenly bore down upon him. His extended sword tearing into the officer’s unprotected stomach. As his guts spilled out, he dropped the weapon and collapsed backwards.

Now almost finished, the enemy surrounded him. Raising their pikes high, they plunged them into his fragile body.

They ran on now, toward the waiting hill and perceived victory.

Upon Baker’s Hill, from which the farm was named, the king’s army waited patiently. Charly however was extremely annoyed.

“We had them on the run. Why not finish them?”

The king was just ahead and heard every word. Turning his head, he said calmly, “Remember the Battle of Hastings?”

Charly knew his history of course. Whispering to Grant, he quickly explained the meaning.

“The Norman’s fell back and retreated down the hill. Believing victory was at hand; Harold’s line broke and charged in pursuit. The
Normans turned and cut them to pieces.”

“King Henry is using the same tactic then,” Grant commented.

“Exactly the same. Luckily for us, we still hold the high ground.”

The queen’s army came into view and the king laughed aloud.

“See how she cowers at their core. Archers!”

At this command, a hail of arrows blotted out the sun and fell upon the enemy’s men. As they started to fall in large numbers now, the queen’s archers responded.

Charly lowered his head as the arrow heads struck the men around him. Screams rent the air as the town’s siren continued its mournful call.

“Pike forward!”

The lines of knights parted, and the pike men moved ahead now, clashing with the oncoming enemy at last. Charly lashed out, catching his opponent off guard. As he collapsed, Grant thrust ahead, splitting a stomach wide open.

The front line buckled and bent as the battle continued. The king’s arrows slaughtering more of the enemy, than his own. At last, the queen’s line broke and the pike surged forward.

Charly found himself with a bit of room as a knight charged him down. Charly side stepped and struck him savagely. As the armoured warrior struck the ground, Charly smashed his heavy weapon through the open visor and pulled the bloody tip out.

“Grant? Where are you?”

“I’m over here mate. Need some ruddy help!”

As the mayhem persisted, Charly swung, battered, and smashed his way towards his loyal friend. He saw the three pike men trying to bore him down and struck out to defend him.

With the odds a bit more even, the opponents fell quickly and the two joyous men could hardly believe their run of luck.

From behind them, a cry rang out and Charly swung around in slow motion. He saw the king hit the ground with a sickening crunch. As this happened, the queen’s horse charged with lance lowered toward the helpless monarch.

Charly screamed aloud, moving quickly between the two deadly foes. He swung the mighty pike, just as the lance caught him square on.

Now skewered, his weight caught the queen by surprise and she was rapidly unhorsed. As she struck the ground, Grant gave her a savage blow to the face, which killed the hag at once.

Shouts of,"The queen is dead!” rent the air as a furious enemy soldier thrust a sword into Grant’s back.

He screamed and whirled around, just in time to see his killer struck down by a mighty mace. As he too fell beside Charly, the relieved king called for the enemy to surrender.

Without their filthy monarch, they threw away their ancient weapons and knelt to await their ominous fate.

The king now looked down upon the bodies of two of the fallen heroes. They lay almost side by side in death, as they had sat once before in the peace of the flat.

“You shall always be remembered as my heroic subjects.”

The king turned and pressed the large sapphire ring.

As he did so, the surviving army of both sides faded from view, leaving two bloodied corpses lying upon that field of eternal honour.

The dark adventures of Charly
The End