The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2693 by Angharad Copyright© 2015 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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“Uh, I hate to say it,” said Simon, “but parting shot derives from Parthian shot.”

“Does it? Is that Parthian as in Persian?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh well, the Mongols also did it and to great effect.”

“Yeah, but nearly a thousand years later.”

“Did you know the recurve bow was old technology when the Romans were about, though their archers used them.”

“Not the good ol’ long bow then?”

“No, they were more popular in wetter countries.”

“Like this one.”

“Yes, and Wales.”

“But the recurve is more efficient, isn’t it?”

“Significantly so, the long bow was used like machine fire, with arrows loosed every six seconds, you didn’t need accuracy, the deadly hail would kill animals and men indiscriminately as the battles at Towcester (pronounced Toaster) and Agincourt showed.”

“Six seconds, wow, that’s twelve a minute.”

“Yes it is, and according to tradition, at Agincourt, there was rain before the battle but the Welsh archers shoved their bow strings under their hats or helmets and kept them dry. Then when it became obvious the French were going to make battle, they restrung their bows in minutes and caught the French knights in boggy ground and met them with a curtain of death. Sadly, those that were captured were also killed, but English kings were good at war crimes. Richard I also known as lionheart, executed hundreds of Moslem prisoners at the battle of Acre, right in front of Saladin’s army.”

“A bit provocative.”

“Yeah, just a bit.”

“I suspect Saladin got his own back.”

“Probably, but it’s easy to show how war crimes escalate.”

“Tit for tat, plus a bit. Then it was the Crusades, life was more brutal and short in those days.”

“Tell that to those nutters in Syria, who still act like we’re in the mediaeval period. Under them life can be short and brutal.”

“How is that they tend to kill more fellow Moslems than anyone else?”

“The first crusade was against fellow Christians not Islam.”

“Oh the Albigensians.”

“Yes, I’ve never understood how they could do that.”

“Kill their fellow Frenchmen.”

“Yeah.”

“It wasn’t all France in those days, it was made up of little dukedoms and princedoms, so the King of France assisted the Pope who wanted to wipe out the heretic faith.”

“Nothing new there then.”

“I’m afraid not, however, we are seeing it through twenty first century eyes, it was hundreds of years ago after all and many things were tolerated which are now dismissed as old or old fashioned.”

“The idea that the same faith could kill or torture others of the same but different form of the faith is abhorrent to us but The Church of Rome attempted to eliminate its competition by any means imaginable including outright physical attack. Just as the Isil Sunnis are attacking Shiites in other Middle Eastern countries. They’re both Islamic faiths but following slightly different prophets, the Sunnis – Mohammad, the Shiites –his son in law Ali.”

“Strikes me as being as silly as Catholic versus Protestant in Ireland.”

“Religious belief is core stuff, it really penetrates deeply inside us probably because we are likely to have been indoctrinated very young. So anyone trying to change it, even by reason rather than force, meets with resistance and that can become very aggressive very quickly.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen you defend your agnosticism—it gets bloody very quickly.”

“Me?” I gasped, “Aggressive—I’m not, I’m just forceful.”

“Yeah, overwhelming force, forceful.”

“So I like to win arguments.”

“By a knockout?”

“If ya got it flaunt it.”

“You do that all right.”

“You know, Si, I can’t tolerate religious intolerance, especially when it’s just a different brand of sky fairy.”

“You can’t tolerate intolerance?” he laughed at my pun.

“No, I’d like to stamp out intolerance.”

“Not just religion, then?”

“Not at all, I believe everyone has the right to believe what they want, it’s just if they differ with me they’re wrong.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “How long have you had these delusions of grandeur?”

“They’re not delusions, are they?”

“Forget your medication again, did you?”

“Looks like.”

The rest of that day passed and the next morning I was trying to get breakfast and organise the girls’ class party food. David had made most of it but I had to put it in bags for them to carry into school. Trish had let Kikki out and then followed her out. I shouted telling her to not get dirty. A few minutes later she came rushing in, in some degree of distress. “Come an’ see, Mummy—it’s horrible.”

Who could resist an invitation like that, so abandoning my chores I followed her out into the drive. “Here, look.” She pointed at some clumps of what appeared to be spines or quills. I felt one and it was what I dreaded it to be. “What is it, Mummy?”

“I suspect a tiggywinkle wandered into a Vulpes vulpes.”

“Wossat mean?”

“One of our hedgehogs met a hungry fox.”

“Oh no,” she quailed, “poor hedgehog.”

“Indeed, c’mon, we can’t do anything to help it now.”

“But they have all those prickles...”

“A fox is several times larger and more powerful, it would be a one-sided competition.”

“So what’s the point of the prickles if they don’t protect them?”

“They protect them against quite a few would be predators but not a biggish fox or a badger.”

“Could it have been a badger then?”

“No, they tend to leave the skin more intact, this is fox.”

“Naughty fox,” she cursed out loud.

“It’s nature, Trish, foxes are hunters not just dustbin scavengers, and hedgehogs, while hunters of smaller creatures themselves, can also fall prey to larger animals. At least the fox ate it, motor cars just leave them squashed in the road.”

“Ugh,” was her comment on that.

“But well done in spotting it.”

“That was Kikki, she sniffed at it.”

I was just happy she hadn’t noticed that the bits of skin holding the spines were being eaten by slugs, a case of the biter being bit?

“Where’s the hedgehog?” asked Livvie.

“There isn’t one,” any more.

“Oh, Trish said there was a hedgehog in the garden.”

“No, c’mon get your stuff together or we’re going to be late.” As much as I exhorted the mouseketeers to fall in and get ready to leave, Trish and Livvie were out with Trish’s iPad and they were taking photos of the recently deceased hedgehog, or the bits the fox didn’t eat. Then they took the aforementioned tablet to school with them. I approve of their interest in making scientific enquiry except I suspect they’ll be showing all the girls who are interested their gruesome pictures.

As we drove to school, I spotted three recent casualties of hedgehogs who failed to cross the road, thankfully they were too busy bickering to notice. Danni was sitting up front with me saw them but apart from pointing to them said nothing to feed Trish’s morbid curiosity.

“Will they ever evolve to avoid cars?” she asked me.

“I think it’s been postulated that some run away instead of curling up, however that would only work on a quiet road.”

“Yeah, see what you mean.”