Lord Wellington eyed the plate before him with a good deal of suspicion. He had most specifically told his servant to bring Spanish cheese, but he had the greatest skepticism as to this cheese's provenance. He tasted a crumb of it with an expression of distrust. The cheese did not clearly lay forth its origins.
The Duke wondered if it were within the power of a magician to determine whence a cheese had come. He had had Merlin around here only a moment ago, hadn't he? Wherever had he mislaid the man?
He looked about. Then he perceived, from a distance of no more than the next tent over, a very great number of noises that, in their general gasping, almost-pained wetness, and their strong suggestion of flesh on flesh, communicated that Merlin and Grant— and was that Colonel De Lancey he could hear?— were engaging in some sort of very deviant carnal intercourse. The Duke could not really approve of such matters; but then, the magician was very eccentric. It was best to indulge him so far as one could, while keeping, as it were, a very stern hand. After all, one could never quite say which incomprehensible and startling actions might be part of some magic. True— the energetic buggery that seemed to be occurring did not appear to have any magical aspect, but was Lord Wellington a magician? No, he was not, sir! He believed very strongly in leaving all magical affairs to the magician!
Sighing, he resigned himself to an inferior supper, and cursed the incompetence not only of servants, but of every man who was not himself, the Duke of Wellington. He stacked the cheese and the roast beef into a passable sandwich and, as the carnal noises rose to an unmistakable crescendo, he lifted his glass of wine.
Re: Lord Wellington makes a sandwich
The Duke wondered if it were within the power of a magician to determine whence a cheese had come. He had had Merlin around here only a moment ago, hadn't he? Wherever had he mislaid the man?
He looked about. Then he perceived, from a distance of no more than the next tent over, a very great number of noises that, in their general gasping, almost-pained wetness, and their strong suggestion of flesh on flesh, communicated that Merlin and Grant— and was that Colonel De Lancey he could hear?— were engaging in some sort of very deviant carnal intercourse. The Duke could not really approve of such matters; but then, the magician was very eccentric. It was best to indulge him so far as one could, while keeping, as it were, a very stern hand. After all, one could never quite say which incomprehensible and startling actions might be part of some magic. True— the energetic buggery that seemed to be occurring did not appear to have any magical aspect, but was Lord Wellington a magician? No, he was not, sir! He believed very strongly in leaving all magical affairs to the magician!
Sighing, he resigned himself to an inferior supper, and cursed the incompetence not only of servants, but of every man who was not himself, the Duke of Wellington. He stacked the cheese and the roast beef into a passable sandwich and, as the carnal noises rose to an unmistakable crescendo, he lifted his glass of wine.
"To England," he said.