The Legend of Sir Ant
by (AJ) Eric

“Rise, Sir Ant,” King Arthur said to the small intruder on his dinner plate, having successfully avoided making this a much shorter tale by crushing it with his fork — using his sword would have been unwieldy — during the dubbing process.

The knights had been eating supper when the lone insect started making its way across the table in quest of some morsel of food. It found a small speck of meat on the king’s plate, and probably would have taken it with him if fate, or at least someone at the table, hadn’t intervened.

A knight who’d probably had too much to drink suggested that since the ant was present and being fed at the famed Round Table of King Arthur, it was entitled to knighthood. The king, perhaps somewhat less than sober himself, complied.

Before the newly elevated insect could continue across the table with its prize, someone — nobody was quite sure afterward whether it was a servant or another of the knights — deposited the ant in a small cloth bag along with some sweet candies that figured to keep it happily occupied for a while, and thus prevented it from notifying its relatives, if it had been so inclined, and having them mount an invasion.

That might have been where the story ended, but as it happened, a messenger rushed into the palace before the group had split up for the night. and announced that a dragon had taken up residence in a cave at the other end of the kingdom, urgently requesting that they send some of their number to take care of it.

The following day, a small contingent of knights set out on the quest. With more important threats to Camelot imminent, none of the more fabled knights made the trip. The journey was left to Sir Loin, Sir Ramic, Sir Real and a French pair, Sir Lepont of Avignon and the androgynous Sir Shea la Femme. (Yes, this is one of those stories.) Their leader was Sir Robin of Camelot, whose deeds have been recorded elsewhere in at least two senses of the word. In Sir Robin’s saddlebag was the small cloth sack containing Sir Ant, the final member of their force.

Their destination was a day’s ride away, but the weather was good and the trip was uneventful. The following morning they connected with the townspeople and were led to the cave where the dragon had taken residence.

With Sir Robin doing the planning, it’s not surprising that after they dismounted from their horses, they took up positions well outside the cave. (“Should have brought along Sir Reptitous,” Robin thought.) They could see the dragon standing in the center area of the cavern, doing nothing in particular, but they were safe from any fire breathing it might produce. They removed Sir Ant from the bag and aimed him into the cave.

“Ants can lift many times their own weight,” Robin told the company. “If Sir Ant can flip the dragon onto its side, we’ll have a better chance against it.”

Sir Ant continued to advance. It’s unclear whether it knew the dragon was a threat, but it’s safe to say the dragon had no idea of its presence, at least not until the dragon took a step forward and unknowingly crushed it under its hoof.

Before the other knights could do anything further — not even get back on their horses and “bravely run away, away” — the dragon lumbered out of the cave, took to the air and was never seen again.

Observers have always wondered why it departed.

Did the dragon know it had killed the ant and have a guilty conscience? Unlikely.

Did the dragon fear an army of ants coming to avenge their scout, not knowing that they were all hundreds of miles away? Again, not very likely, especially if it hadn’t noticed the ant in the first place. In any case, since the dragon could fly and the ants couldn’t, it wouldn’t have had much cause for concern.

Did Sir Ant have magic powers and banish the dragon before it died? There doesn’t seem to be any reason to think so, though the possibility exists.

Did the dragon spot the other knights and, like Sir Robin, opt to avoid a confrontation? Possibly. Along the same lines, did it simply decide that if knights were going to come after it — quite possibly a more threatening group of knights than this one — it could find easier pickings elsewhere? The livestock in the area didn’t seem to be unusually desirable, and there wasn’t much in the way of shiny objects for it to collect, so it might have felt inclined to move anyway.

Sir Robin and the others stayed in the town for a few weeks, to be sure the dragon wasn’t in fact coming back, and then left for Camelot. Sadly, there wasn’t enough of Sir Ant left to give it a decent burial.

That should have been the end of the story. But a small religious sect decided to beatify Sir Ant and declare it the patron saint of suicide missions and impossible tasks. Tradition holds that miracles are required to elevate anyone to sainthood. Fortunately, Saint Ant’s devotees tended to be preteen boys, and times when their parents let them stay up late, or eat dessert even if they hadn’t eaten all their vegetables, or go out with their friends when they hadn’t finished all their chores, were deemed to fall into the miracle category.

Things got a little more confusing after that. It was sometimes hard to tell from listening whether people were praying for intervention from Saint Anne or Saint Ant, who were listed consecutively in alphabetical reference materials. (Saint Anthony, next on the list, had more syllables in his name and was safe from that confusion.)

Sadly, there aren’t any relics of St. Ant’s short career, though it’s said that some greedy cleric claimed he could provide a piece of tablecloth from St. Ant’s trip on the Round Table in exchange for a suitable contribution. But it seems unlikely that the Round Table had a tablecloth. (Placemats, maybe.)

And that’s where our tale ends.