Of course he has a knife. He always has
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Queen Eleanor and her three sons have been plotting against each other and their King for years.
Of course he has a knife. He always has a knife. We all have knives. It’s 1183 and we’re barbarians. How clear we make it. Oh, my piglets, we are the origins of war. Not history’s forces nor the times nor justice nor the lack of it nor causes nor religions nor ideas nor kinds of government nor any other thing. We are the killers. We breed wars. We carry it, like syphilis, inside. Dead bodies rot in field and stream because the living ones are rotten. For the love of God, can’t we love one another just a little? That’s how peace begins. We have so much to love each other for. We have such possibilities, my children. We could change the world.