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Fantasy Fictioneer, v. 1, issue 2, January-February 1940

Page 6

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Strange adventures had brought Ulf to the blue shores of Egypt (but a slave ship was directly responsible, truth to say.) Having risen from the ranks of A.B. Storm Troopers to Captain. through sheer trickery, he had been taken from his command of the South Coast Coracle Defense and made bodyguard and chief charioteer to the beautiful Boadicca. After several battles on the floor of the Debating Society arena. he scored his greatest triumph by leading the Strand Cads to victory in the soccer finals against the West Saxon Druids. He had be then so wormed his way into the Queen's confidences, that his rivals decided it was time he was deposed. His overthrow was accomplished by planting counterfeit tin banknotes, the then current currency, in his tiger toga, while he was debating in the Lower Moot. Arrested, then tried before the Chief Monk at Bailey, he was found guilty of treason, and confined to the galleys of life. His very first cruise upon the Wode, which besides slaves was carrying a cargo of immigrants to Australia and a shipment of knives for the chariot wheels of Rut, ended in disaster for the ship and freedom of himself. Within sight of Ankhot, the Wode collided with a fleet of Arab fishing dhows, and Ulf was the sole survivor. (How?, we are moved to ask. By biting his chains, no doubt ????- editor.) The dusky houris, leaning perilously from their balcony windows, failed to stir Ulf's manhood as he strolled hither and yon, keen ears tuned for the latest track tips. Pausing to listen to the strains of the latest hula, played by Nat Deb's Lyers in the Rameses Cafe - no cover charge- he was musing thus, when, from the minarets of the Palace, four heralds on muted trumpets played King Rut's signature tune. Instaly the heckling of the moneylenders and the braying of the old clothes men died away and all grovelled in the dust as the Town Scribe made his appearance from the palace gates, preceeded by two giant Nubians armed with flint hammers. Completely ignoring the rabble who pressed away from him as if he were a leper, he hoisted a flat slab from his back, and, holding it in position against the Palace Notice Board, scowled at the Nubians who promptly hammered it into place. Directly this procession had retired, the crowd flocked around the notice, jostling and pushing in a friendly manner and rifling each other's pockets. Ulf was in the first dozen to reach the wall, and made a good haul of gold trinkets and goatskin wallets while someone read aloud the Notice, to him. [small illustration of skull and cross bones next to this paragraph] "Slaves, tremble and/or rejoice. Your worthy Lord and Master, King of the Upper Nile, decrees a chariot race around the city walls and across the desert to the New Park. The public will gather there at the peak of Ra's ascendency tomorrow, admission four shexlets. Scat from six shexlets to three sistoris. Soft seats one slave. Charioteers will be the While Nile Champion and the Blue Nile Champion, with sundry officers of the Camel Guard. The usual stake bots will be taken by the Royal Bookies. Unauthorized tipsters will be thrown to the crocodiles. Pip pip/ Rut." Ulf, having digested all this, dived into the nearest tavern and spent a sisteria upon vodka and a lion stake and chips. He had a strong idea that he would be in that race, and it was necessary to fortify the system in readiness. Swilling the last of his drink down, he was about to dodge paying the tally, when a stalwart captain of the Camel Guards ran in, and, having hewn his way to the bar, called for beer.
 
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