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The world of academia revealed its darker side yesterday when Frederick Giltshire '07 was slain while defending his honors thesis from an ambush by classmate Roland von Duskfield '07. Giltshire and Duskfield were the only seniors concentrating in Medieval Studies, and as such, a heated rivalry had long existed between the two.
"Aye, 'twas a battle whose coming was writ in the stars, make no mistake," explained Raymond Lockwater '08, Giltshire's attendant and sworn vassal. "They had stood at odds from the beginning… e'er since they first set foot into that fateful Medieval Perspectives course three years ago this very day. Lord Giltshire was a firm believer in the nobility and the bond of fealty that the feudal system doth prescribe. But where Lord Giltshire saw honor and companionship, Lord Duskfield saw only power. He bought the loyalty of his classmates and used fear to retain it. No plot was too vile, no knavery too depraved if it proved to his benefit. 'Twas but a matter of time before the blades of Giltshire and Duskfield would cross, and one would fall."
Giltshire's roommate, Chip Tuckerson '07, was saddened, but not too saddened, to hear of his friend's death.
"Freddy was literally insane," Tuckerson told reporters. "It's one thing to be enthusiastic about your concentration. It's another to wear full chain mail to the Ratty because you're afraid of 'archer assassins.' Hell, I've been shot twice because those guys can't aim for shit. Hey look, it's a tragedy he's dead and all, but I was getting tired of playing Beirut with mead."
The only witness to the encounter was Percival Noonbin '10, a loyal page to whom Giltshire had been dictating his thesis.
"'Twas the eventide," Noonbin narrated. "We worked by candlelight on the top floor of the hermitage. We had scant begun my lord's paragraph on the significance of the Peasants's Crusade when the portal blew open, and there stood Lord Duskfield, alone, clad in his dread Raven Plate and brandishing both blade and axe. 'GILTSHIRE!' he bellowed, 'THE THESIS IS MINE!' My lord unsheathed his claymore and faced his nemesis. With the mettle of a thousand men, he repliedeth, 'It is thine, if thou canst take it from me!' Ever loyal to my lord, I charged Duskfield with my dagger, only to be flicked aside like a gnat with a blow from the butt of his axe. Disoriented, I could only watch in horror as the two men battled. Like lions they raged against one another, the wind from their blows nearly extinguishing the candlelight by which they dueled. Finally, Duskfield found an opening, and with a fell strike he cleaved my lord in twain from head to jewels. Without ceremony he dropped his weapons, took up the thesis, and was gone."
In the aftermath of the ordeal, one question continued to nag Noonbin, as he told <i>The Noser</i>.
"It maketh no sense. How didst Duskfield know we would be in the hermitage that eventide? The only men who knew were Giltshire and myself. And Lockwater, of course… my lord told him everything. LOCKWATER! YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR TREACHERY WITH YOUR BLOOD!"
Duskfield is scheduled to appear at a Dean's Hearing next week on charges of plagiarism and murder.
