Words by

Grayson Del Faro

Photo by

Inga María Brynjarsdóttir

If you remember the portrait of Arthurian nobility painted by Erex, this Saga is about to fuck your shit right up. It’s another translation of an Old French poem, technically into “Norwegian” but this was so long ago that Norwegian was just a funny way of spelling Icelandic, so it’s still lumped in with the Icelandic Sagas. Which is good because it’s about sluttiness, an understandably popular Icelandic pastime to this very day.

Tart Wars

King Arthur invites all the not-single ladies and their lovers to his castle for a feast. He’s really weird and refuses to eat until he’s heard some news from abroad so everyone is standing around waiting for him to show up. Luckily, some rando busts all up in there like, “Listen up, bitches and gentle-bitches, I’ve got this mad fancy, magical elf-cloak that shrinks based on how unfaithful a woman has been to her lover and my mysterious patroness would like to give it to whoever is prudish enough to fit it.”

So, before the slut-shaming games begin, let’s make it clear that I’m not condoning infidelity, just condemning petty judgey-ness. Everybody should keep within the boundaries they set for their relationship, however broad or narrow those may be. But also: not your body, not your business, amirite? Let the best monogamist-and/or-prude win!

The Empress Strikes Back

They commence with Queen Guinievere. It shrinks to above her ankles, revealing she’s experienced several inches worth of infidelity. She blushes, but rather than allow herself to admit any shame, that fierce, enlightened badass just LOLs the whole thing off like the kween that she is. She makes a game of it, saying all the women must try it on.

Each knight offers up his beloved, thinking her the most pious but they all fall short, quite literally. This naturally causes much ridicule and bickering amongst the men about their shameful, shameful womenfolk. At this point, the cloak starts shrinking to reveal the specific ways or even positions in which the maiden has greatly enjoyed her infidelity. If it falls on one side, she likes to lie on that side. Much to the shock of Sir Ideus, the cloak rises well above the waist of his beloved—but only in the back.

Out of spite for the mockery of his own lover, a rival knight declares triumphantly that the beloved of Sir Ideus “is accustomed to shamelessly allow herself to be serviced from behind.” I want to be outraged on his behalf. I really do. But frankly, I think a lady likes what a lady likes and if the lord is too courtly to serve the realness the lady needs, the cloak is gonna shrink. Sorry, guys.

The Return of the Killjoy

Let’s be honest, we all know where this is going. All the dudes are emasculated, all the ladies shamed, hahahahahahaha, women are bad, whatever. Of course it looks like there’s no maiden in all the kingdom to live up to this patriarchal double standard of chastity, then one last woman is asked to put it on. Her lover, Sir Karadín, asks her not to put it on because he loves her so dearly that he would rather never know if she’s been unfaithful. You’ve gotta give it to the guy: that’s pretty noble.

But of course she passes the test and gets to keep the magic cloak and finally, Arthur lets people eat and everything is chill. Now, for the sake of equality, let’s all take a moment to imagine that the mysterious patroness also offered up a magical, elf-made cock ring that shrinks to constrict and/or chop off the dick of the man wearing it based on his sexism and general scummy-ness. Just like his noble lady, only Karadín’s dick would be left standing, giving a whole new, much better meaning to “putting a ring on it.”