The fleas of Sir Lancelot

(Originally at http://www.bubblews.com/news/5747915-the-fleas-of-sir-lancelot , expanded here)

In olden times, a small group of fleas supported themselves upon the body and blood of the great Sir Lancelot, a knight of King Arthur's court.  It was not an easy life, as a flea's life seldom is, but they were at least well fed.

Flea populations, unencumbered by Malthusian theory and certainly living upon what must have seemed like an inexhaustible food supply, do tend to grow rapidly, but many were tossed out regularly with the weary knights clothing when he decided they were too dirty to wear another day.  A few succumbed when the great man scratched at himself. Many more would perish when he bathed, but that was only once a year, and he never did submerge his head, so only those two slow to scurry upward or jump to safety would be lost. 

The surviving fleas, usually numbering several dozen, would console themselves by saying that their children and relatives had gone to a better place. Sometimes that was true, as a few may have jumped to the fair skin of the wash maiden before the clothes went into the stream. Some may also have jumped to her when Sir Lancelot was enjoying some improper dalliance on a summer day, but fleas do not care how you arrived at the Promised Land.

The fleas who remained on Lancelot enjoyed their home. The blood was good and Lancelot seldom took notice of itching. The fleas were safe, and happy.

Some were also wealthy. Fleas are too small to steal gold and silver coins, but you'd be surprised at how many tiny flecks were knocked off the coins jingling in the great man's purse, and as he kept it close to his body, an enterprising flea could sometimes earn a small income, which could be spent upon an evening of dining in the choicest and most tender spots of the great man's vast expanse.

The flea who controlled most of those venues stored his gold in Sir Lancelot's armpit, woven into the tangled hairs. That flea never dined in that area and always kept his movements slow, so Lancelot never scratched there.

One morning fleadom was abuzz with the news that the gold had been stolen. Suspicion fell upon a young flea with a slovenly appearance. Warned by friends of his imminent arrest, he fled the colony and lived rough on a passing mongrel. He fell in with a nasty lot, who eventually learned of the warrant and turned him in for a small reward.

The trial was held upon the head of King Arthur himself. Witnesses and prosecutors assembled there before the judge. The prisoner was brought in bound with spider web chains, which may not sound like much to you, but are quite effective for a flea.

The prosecutor read out the charges and presented the evidence. The gold was stolen while proper fleas were sleeping. Everyone else was known to be where they belonged; only one flea's whereabouts could not be accounted for.

There was no jury, the revered judge alone would decide guilt or innocence. After listening to the prosecutor carefully, the judge turned to the young flea cowering before him and demanded just one answer.

"And where were you on the knight in question?"