A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, Part 8. Page 4

  CHAPTER XXXIX

  THE YANKEE'S FIGHT WITH THE KNIGHTS

  Home again, at Camelot. A morning or two later I found the paper,damp from the press, by my plate at the breakfast table. I turnedto the advertising columns, knowing I should find something ofpersonal interest to me there. It was this:

  DE PAR LE ROI.

  Know that the great lord and illus- trious Kni8ht, SIR SAGRAMOR LE DESIROUS having condescended to meet the King's Minister, Hank Mor- gan, the which is surnamed The Boss, for satisfgction of offence anciently given, these wilL engage in the lists by Camelot about the fourth hour of the morning of the sixteenth day of this next succeeding month. The battle will be a l outrance, sith the said offence was of a deadly sort, admitting of no comPosition.

  DE PAR LE ROI

  Clarence's editorial reference to this affair was to this effect:

  It will be observed, by a gl7nce at our advertising columns, that the commu- nity is to be favored with a treat of un- usual interest in the tournament line. The n ames of the artists are warrant of good enterTemment. The box-office will be open at noon of the 13th; ad- mission 3 cents, reserved seatsh 5; pro- ceeds to go to the hospital fund The royal pair and all the Court will be pres- ent. With these exceptions, and the press and the clergy, the free list is strict- ly susPended. Parties are hereby warn- ed against buying tickets of speculators; they will not be good at the door. Everybody knows and likes The Boss, everybody knows and likes Sir Sag.; come, let us give the lads a good send- off. ReMember, the proceeds go to a great and free charity, and one whose broad begevolence stretches out its help- ing hand, warm with the blood of a lov- ing heart, to all that suffer, regardless of race, creed, condition or color--the only charity yet established in the earth which has no politico-religious stop- cock on its compassion, but says Here flows the stream, let ALL come and drink! Turn out, all hands! fetch along your dou3hnuts and your gum-drops and have a good time. Pie for sale on the grounds, and rocks to crack it with; and ciRcus-lemonade--three drops of lime juice to a barrel of water. N.B. This is the first tournament under the new law, whidh allow each combatant to use any weapon he may pre- fer. You may want to make a note of that.

  Up to the day set, there was no talk in all Britain of anythingbut this combat. All other topics sank into insignificance andpassed out of men's thoughts and interest. It was not becausea tournament was a great matter, it was not because Sir Sagramorhad found the Holy Grail, for he had not, but had failed; it wasnot because the second (official) personage in the kingdom wasone of the duellists; no, all these features were commonplace.Yet there was abundant reason for the extraordinary interest whichthis coming fight was creating. It was born of the fact that allthe nation knew that this was not to be a duel between mere men,so to speak, but a duel between two mighty magicians; a duel notof muscle but of mind, not of human skill but of superhuman artand craft; a final struggle for supremacy between the two masterenchanters of the age. It was realized that the most prodigiousachievements of the most renowned knights could not be worthyof comparison with a spectacle like this; they could be but child'splay, contrasted with this mysterious and awful battle of the gods.Yes, all the world knew it was going to be in reality a duelbetween Merlin and me, a measuring of his magic powers againstmine. It was known that Merlin had been busy whole days and nightstogether, imbuing Sir Sagramor's arms and armor with supernalpowers of offense and defense, and that he had procured for himfrom the spirits of the air a fleecy veil which would render thewearer invisible to his antagonist while still visible to othermen. Against Sir Sagramor, so weaponed and protected, a thousandknights could accomplish nothing; against him no known enchantmentscould prevail. These facts were sure; regarding them there wasno doubt, no reason for doubt. There was but one question: mightthere be still other enchantments, _unknown_ to Merlin, which couldrender Sir Sagramor's veil transparent to me, and make his enchantedmail vulnerable to my weapons? This was the one thing to bedecided in the lists. Until then the world must remain in suspense.

  So the world thought there was a vast matter at stake here, andthe world was right, but it was not the one they had in theirminds. No, a far vaster one was upon the cast of this die:_the life of knight-errantry_. I was a champion, it was true, butnot the champion of the frivolous black arts, I was the championof hard unsentimental common-sense and reason. I was enteringthe lists to either destroy knight-errantry or be its victim.

  Vast as the show-grounds were, there were no vacant spaces in themoutside of the lists, at ten o'clock on the morning of the 16th.The mammoth grand-stand was clothed in flags, streamers, and richtapestries, and packed with several acres of small-fry tributarykings, their suites, and the British aristocracy; with our ownroyal gang in the chief place, and each and every individuala flashing prism of gaudy silks and velvets--well, I never sawanything to begin with it but a fight between an Upper Mississippisunset and the aurora borealis. The huge camp of beflagged andgay-colored tents at one end of the lists, with a stiff-standingsentinel at every door and a shining shield hanging by him forchallenge, was another fine sight. You see, every knight wasthere who had any ambition or any caste feeling; for my feelingtoward their order was not much of a secret, and so here was theirchance. If I won my fight with Sir Sagramor, others would havethe right to call me out as long as I might be willing to respond.

  Down at our end there were but two tents; one for me, and anotherfor my servants. At the appointed hour the king made a sign, andthe heralds, in their tabards, appeared and made proclamation,naming the combatants and stating the cause of quarrel. Therewas a pause, then a ringing bugle-blast, which was the signal forus to come forth. All the multitude caught their breath, andan eager curiosity flashed into every face.

  Out from his tent rode great Sir Sagramor, an imposing towerof iron, stately and rigid, his huge spear standing upright in itssocket and grasped in his strong hand, his grand horse's face andbreast cased in steel, his body clothed in rich trappings thatalmost dragged the ground--oh, a most noble picture. A greatshout went up, of welcome and admiration.

  And then out I came. But I didn't get any shout. There wasa wondering and eloquent silence for a moment, then a great waveof laughter began to sweep along that human sea, but a warningbugle-blast cut its career short. I was in the simplest andcomfortablest of gymnast costumes--flesh-colored tights from neckto heel, with blue silk puffings about my loins, and bareheaded.My horse was not above medium size, but he was alert, slender-limbed,muscled with watchsprings, and just a greyhound to go. He wasa beauty, glossy as silk, and naked as he was when he was born,except for bridle and ranger-saddle.

  The iron tower and the gorgeous bedquilt came cumbrously butgracefully pirouetting down the lists, and we tripped lightly upto meet them. We halted; the tower saluted, I responded; thenwe wheeled and rode side by side to the grand-stand and facedour king and queen, to whom we made obeisance. The queen exclaimed:

  "Alack, Sir Boss, wilt fight naked, and without lance or sword or--"

  But the king checked her and made her understand, with a politephrase or two, that this was none of her business. The buglesrang again; and we separated and rode to the ends of the lists,and took position. Now old Merlin stepped into view and casta dainty web of gossamer threads over Sir Sagramor which turnedhim into Hamlet's ghost; the king made a sign, the bugles blew,Sir Sagramor laid his great lance in rest, and the next moment herehe came thundering down the course with his veil flying out behind,and I went whistling through the air like an arrow to meet him--cocking my ear the while, as if noting the invisible knight'sposition and progress by hearing, not sight. A chorus of encouragingshouts burst out for him, and one brave voice flung out a hearteningword for me--said:

  "Go it, slim Jim!"

  It was an even bet that Clarence had procured that favor for me--and furnished the language, too. When that formida
ble lance-pointwas within a yard and a half of my breast I twitched my horse asidewithout an effort, and the big knight swept by, scoring a blank.I got plenty of applause that time. We turned, braced up, anddown we came again. Another blank for the knight, a roar ofapplause for me. This same thing was repeated once more; andit fetched such a whirlwind of applause that Sir Sagramor lost histemper, and at once changed his tactics and set himself the taskof chasing me down. Why, he hadn't any show in the world at that;it was a game of tag, with all the advantage on my side; I whirledout of his path with ease whenever I chose, and once I slapped himon the back as I went to the rear. Finally I took the chase intomy own hands; and after that, turn, or twist, or do what he would,he was never able to get behind me again; he found himself alwaysin front at the end of his maneuver. So he gave up that businessand retired to his end of the lists. His temper was clear gone now,and he forgot himself and flung an insult at me which disposedof mine. I slipped my lasso from the horn of my saddle, andgrasped the coil in my right hand. This time you should have seenhim come!--it was a business trip, sure; by his gait there wasblood in his eye. I was sitting my horse at ease, and swingingthe great loop of my lasso in wide circles about my head; themoment he was under way, I started for him; when the space betweenus had narrowed to forty feet, I sent the snaky spirals of the ropea-cleaving through the air, then darted aside and faced about andbrought my trained animal to a halt with all his feet braced underhim for a surge. The next moment the rope sprang taut and yankedSir Sagramor out of the saddle! Great Scott, but there wasa sensation!

  Unquestionably, the popular thing in this world is novelty. Thesepeople had never seen anything of that cowboy business before,and it carried them clear off their feet with delight. From allaround and everywhere, the shout went up:

  "Encore! encore!"

  I wondered where they got the word, but there was no time to cipheron philological matters, because the whole knight-errantry hivewas just humming now, and my prospect for trade couldn't havebeen better. The moment my lasso was released and Sir Sagramorhad been assisted to his tent, I hauled in the slack, took mystation and began to swing my loop around my head again. I wassure to have use for it as soon as they could elect a successorfor Sir Sagramor, and that couldn't take long where there wereso many hungry candidates. Indeed, they elected one straight off--Sir Hervis de Revel.

  _Bzz_! Here he came, like a house afire; I dodged: he passed likea flash, with my horse-hair coils settling around his neck;a second or so later, _fst_! his saddle was empty.

  I got another encore; and another, and another, and still another.When I had snaked five men out, things began to look serious tothe ironclads, and they stopped and consulted together. As aresult, they decided that it was time to waive etiquette and sendtheir greatest and best against me. To the astonishment of thatlittle world, I lassoed Sir Lamorak de Galis, and after himSir Galahad. So you see there was simply nothing to be done now,but play their right bower--bring out the superbest of the superb,the mightiest of the mighty, the great Sir Launcelot himself!

  A proud moment for me? I should think so. Yonder was Arthur,King of Britain; yonder was Guenever; yes, and whole tribes oflittle provincial kings and kinglets; and in the tented camp yonder,renowned knights from many lands; and likewise the selectest bodyknown to chivalry, the Knights of the Table Round, the mostillustrious in Christendom; and biggest fact of all, the very sunof their shining system was yonder couching his lance, the focalpoint of forty thousand adoring eyes; and all by myself, here wasI laying for him. Across my mind flitted the dear image of acertain hello-girl of West Hartford, and I wished she could seeme now. In that moment, down came the Invincible, with the rushof a whirlwind--the courtly world rose to its feet and bent forward--the fateful coils went circling through the air, and before youcould wink I was towing Sir Launcelot across the field on hisback, and kissing my hand to the storm of waving kerchiefs andthe thunder-crash of applause that greeted me!

  Said I to myself, as I coiled my lariat and hung it on my saddle-horn,and sat there drunk with glory, "The victory is perfect--no otherwill venture against me--knight-errantry is dead." Now imagine myastonishment--and everybody else's, too--to hear the peculiarbugle-call which announces that another competitor is about toenter the lists! There was a mystery here; I couldn't account forthis thing. Next, I noticed Merlin gliding away from me; and thenI noticed that my lasso was gone! The old sleight-of-hand experthad stolen it, sure, and slipped it under his robe.

  The bugle blew again. I looked, and down came Sagramor ridingagain, with his dust brushed off and his veil nicely re-arranged.I trotted up to meet him, and pretended to find him by the soundof his horse's hoofs. He said:

  "Thou'rt quick of ear, but it will not save thee from this!" andhe touched the hilt of his great sword. "An ye are not able to seeit, because of the influence of the veil, know that it is no cumbrouslance, but a sword--and I ween ye will not be able to avoid it."

  His visor was up; there was death in his smile. I should neverbe able to dodge his sword, that was plain. Somebody was goingto die this time. If he got the drop on me, I could name thecorpse. We rode forward together, and saluted the royalties.This time the king was disturbed. He said:

  "Where is thy strange weapon?"

  "It is stolen, sire."

  "Hast another at hand?"

  "No, sire, I brought only the one."

  Then Merlin mixed in:

  "He brought but the one because there was but the one to bring.There exists none other but that one. It belongeth to the kingof the Demons of the Sea. This man is a pretender, and ignorant,else he had known that that weapon can be used in but eight boutsonly, and then it vanisheth away to its home under the sea."

  "Then is he weaponless," said the king. "Sir Sagramore, ye willgrant him leave to borrow."

  "And I will lend!" said Sir Launcelot, limping up. "He is asbrave a knight of his hands as any that be on live, and he shallhave mine."

  He put his hand on his sword to draw it, but Sir Sagramor said:

  "Stay, it may not be. He shall fight with his own weapons; itwas his privilege to choose them and bring them. If he has erred,on his head be it."

  "Knight!" said the king. "Thou'rt overwrought with passion; itdisorders thy mind. Wouldst kill a naked man?"

  "An he do it, he shall answer it to me," said Sir Launcelot.

  "I will answer it to any he that desireth!" retorted Sir Sagramor hotly.

  Merlin broke in, rubbing his hands and smiling his lowdownestsmile of malicious gratification:

  "'Tis well said, right well said! And 'tis enough of parleying,let my lord the king deliver the battle signal."

  The king had to yield. The bugle made proclamation, and we turnedapart and rode to our stations. There we stood, a hundred yardsapart, facing each other, rigid and motionless, like horsed statues.And so we remained, in a soundless hush, as much as a full minute,everybody gazing, nobody stirring. It seemed as if the king couldnot take heart to give the signal. But at last he lifted his hand,the clear note of the bugle followed, Sir Sagramor's long bladedescribed a flashing curve in the air, and it was superb to see himcome. I sat still. On he came. I did not move. People got soexcited that they shouted to me:

  "Fly, fly! Save thyself! This is murther!"

  I never budged so much as an inch till that thundering apparitionhad got within fifteen paces of me; then I snatched a dragoonrevolver out of my holster, there was a flash and a roar, andthe revolver was back in the holster before anybody could tellwhat had happened.

  Here was a riderless horse plunging by, and yonder lay Sir Sagramor,stone dead.

  The people that ran to him were stricken dumb to find that the lifewas actually gone out of the man and no reason for it visible,no hurt upon his body, nothing like a wound. There was a holethrough the breast of his chain-mail, but they attached no importanceto a little thing like that; and as a bullet wound there producesbut little blood, none came in sight b
ecause of the clothing andswaddlings under the armor. The body was dragged over to letthe king and the swells look down upon it. They were stupefiedwith astonishment naturally. I was requested to come and explainthe miracle. But I remained in my tracks, like a statue, and said:

  "If it is a command, I will come, but my lord the king knows thatI am where the laws of combat require me to remain while any desireto come against me."

  I waited. Nobody challenged. Then I said:

  "If there are any who doubt that this field is well and fairly won,I do not wait for them to challenge me, I challenge them."

  "It is a gallant offer," said the king, "and well beseems you.Whom will you name first?"

  "I name none, I challenge all! Here I stand, and dare the chivalryof England to come against me--not by individuals, but in mass!"

  "What!" shouted a score of knights.

  "You have heard the challenge. Take it, or I proclaim you recreantknights and vanquished, every one!"

  It was a "bluff" you know. At such a time it is sound judgmentto put on a bold face and play your hand for a hundred times whatit is worth; forty-nine times out of fifty nobody dares to "call,"and you rake in the chips. But just this once--well, things lookedsqually! In just no time, five hundred knights were scramblinginto their saddles, and before you could wink a widely scatteringdrove were under way and clattering down upon me. I snatchedboth revolvers from the holsters and began to measure distancesand calculate chances.

  Bang! One saddle empty. Bang! another one. Bang--bang, andI bagged two. Well, it was nip and tuck with us, and I knew it.If I spent the eleventh shot without convincing these people,the twelfth man would kill me, sure. And so I never did feelso happy as I did when my ninth downed its man and I detectedthe wavering in the crowd which is premonitory of panic. An instantlost now could knock out my last chance. But I didn't lose it.I raised both revolvers and pointed them--the halted host stoodtheir ground just about one good square moment, then broke and fled.

  The day was mine. Knight-errantry was a doomed institution. Themarch of civilization was begun. How did I feel? Ah, you nevercould imagine it.

  And Brer Merlin? His stock was flat again. Somehow, every timethe magic of fol-de-rol tried conclusions with the magic of science,the magic of fol-de-rol got left.