A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthurs Court | Page 9

stroke.
Then he went on and told how Sir Launcelot, seeking adventures, some brief time gone
by, killed seven giants at one sweep of his sword, and set a hundred and forty-two captive
maidens free; and then went further, still seeking adventures, and found him (Sir Kay)
fighting a desperate fight against nine foreign knights, and straightway took the battle
solely into his own hands, and conquered the nine; and that night Sir Launcelot rose
quietly, and dressed him in Sir Kay's armor and took Sir Kay's horse and gat him away
into distant lands, and vanquished sixteen knights in one pitched battle and thirty-four in
another; and all these and the former nine he made to swear that about Whitsuntide they
would ride to Arthur's court and yield them to Queen Guenever's hands as captives of Sir
Kay the Seneschal, spoil of his knightly prowess; and now here were these half dozen,
and the rest would be along as soon as they might be healed of their desperate wounds.
Well, it was touching to see the queen blush and smile, and look embarrassed and happy,
and fling furtive glances at Sir Launcelot that would have got him shot in Arkansas, to a
dead certainty.
Everybody praised the valor and magnanimity of Sir Launcelot; and as for me, I was
perfectly amazed, that one man, all by himself, should have been able to beat down and
capture such battalions of practiced fighters. I said as much to Clarence; but this mocking
featherhead only said:
"An Sir Kay had had time to get another skin of sour wine into him, ye had seen the
accompt doubled."
I looked at the boy in sorrow; and as I looked I saw the cloud of a deep despondency
settle upon his countenance. I followed the direction of his eye, and saw that a very old
and white-bearded man, clothed in a flowing black gown, had risen and was standing at
the table upon unsteady legs, and feebly swaying his ancient head and surveying the
company with his watery and wandering eye. The same suffering look that was in the
page's face was observable in all the faces around--the look of dumb creatures who know
that they must endure and make no moan.
"Marry, we shall have it again," sighed the boy; "that same old weary tale that he hath
told a thousand times in the same words, and that he will tell till he dieth, every time he
hath gotten his barrel full and feeleth his exaggeration-mill a-working. Would God I had
died or I saw this day!"
"Who is it?"
"Merlin, the mighty liar and magician, perdition singe him for the weariness he worketh
with his one tale! But that men fear him for that he hath the storms and the lightnings and
all the devils that be in hell at his beck and call, they would have dug his entrails out
these many years ago to get at that tale and squelch it. He telleth it always in the third

person, making believe he is too modest to glorify himself--maledictions light upon him,
misfortune be his dole! Good friend, prithee call me for evensong."
The boy nestled himself upon my shoulder and pretended to go to sleep. The old man
began his tale; and presently the lad was asleep in reality; so also were the dogs, and the
court, the lackeys, and the files of men-at-arms. The droning voice droned on; a soft
snoring arose on all sides and supported it like a deep and subdued accompaniment of
wind instruments. Some heads were bowed upon folded arms, some lay back with open
mouths that issued unconscious music; the flies buzzed and bit, unmolested, the rats
swarmed softly out from a hundred holes, and pattered about, and made themselves at
home everywhere; and one of them sat up like a squirrel on the king's head and held a bit
of cheese in its hands and nibbled it, and dribbled the crumbs in the king's face with naive
and impudent irreverence. It was a tranquil scene, and restful to the weary eye and the
jaded spirit.
This was the old man's tale. He said:
"Right so the king and Merlin departed, and went until an hermit that was a good man
and a great leech. So the hermit searched all his wounds and gave him good salves; so the
king was there three days, and then were his wounds well amended that he might ride and
go, and so departed. And as they rode, Arthur said, I have no sword. No force*
[*Footnote from M.T.: No matter.], said Merlin, hereby is a sword that shall be yours and
I may. So they rode till they came to a lake, the which was a fair water