The lady’s black ship puts in at her private island, which is a nice place, though a little muggy.  She has an awning set up, so Percivale can nap in a hammock underneath it, and recover his strength.

“That’s super generous of you,” says Percivale, and then he falls asleep because he hasn’t slept in like three days, assuming you don’t count marvelous reverie as sleep.

Sometime later he comes to, and the lady has set up a picnic table for him, laden with all kinds of meat.

“Nonspecific meat!” Percivale digs in.  “Also, fortified wine!”

Percivale chugs down the fortified wine, which Malory helpfully describes as the strongest wine that ever he drank.

“And then,” says Malory, all wound up, “he sees the lady.  And he’s drunk!”

“Uh huh,” I say.

“And he’s all, woooooo, lady, you’re sooooo sexy, like you do.”

“Uh huh.”

“But of course she’s all ew no!  Like a lady does when she wants you to really throw yourself at her?”

“Uh huh… wait, what?”

“No doesn’t always mean no,” says Malory, as though it’s me who is the idiot.

“Are you saying that Percivale… I can’t even finish that sentence.  What are you saying?”

“Well, it’s not like she’s not into it!  Like ladies always are, you know.  If you bug them enough, they’ll strip their clothes off and swear that you can do whatever you want to their bodies.  It just takes persistence.”

I don’t have anything to say to that, because it’s rare that I’m presented with a view quite so literally medieval.

“But before they do it, as she’s stripping her clothes off, all sexy-like…”  Malory makes weird sex-gestures with his hands, he’s kind of freaking me out here you guys.  “She’s all, well if I’m going to let you ravish me, first you have to swear to serve me over all others, and to always obey me and only me.  Because, you know, she’s a woman.  Women are like that.”

“Uh…”

“And noble Sir Percivale, he’s all besotted and enchanted and drunk, and he agrees!  So she strips naked, and he strips naked, and he’s about to climb into the bed with her, when suddenly, boom!  He sees his sword!”  Malory throws his arms up in the air, like he’s just revealed a huge shocker.  “What a twist, right?”

“Wait.  He sees his sword, so what?”

“Oh, duh.  His sword has a cross on it, on the pommel.  So he’s reminded of Jesus, and then he thinks about Nacien and the demon-horse and what the sign of the cross did then, and then he makes the sign of the cross!”

“Okay.”

“So of course the tent explodes!”

“What?”