New Jersey Yankee In King Arthur's Court

by P McAuley, Robert

  “Arthur! Put that out! Do you realize that if Merryl is right and we’re back in time or something, you are the first person in England to start that horrible habit?”

  Arty smiled and said, “Yeah? Wow, that’s cool. I’m the first to . . .” he snapped his head back in fear as she hit the lit smoke from his lips and sent it flying onto the road. “Okay, okay, Jennie. I won’t smoke anymore. Is that what you want?”

  “Yes! That’s what I want, you-you butt-head!” She walked away and Ron’s sister Kay joined her.

  “Boy,” said Arty to Garret, “was she like that back at the home?”

  Garret shrugged his shoulders and asked, “Hey, Arty, do you know where we are? When do we go home to Grinnels?”

  Arty slapped his back and stood. “Not sure Garret, but I think tonight we all got ta have a talk. Tell the guys we’re gonna have a sit-down. Just us, not the outta-towners.”

  One hour later Delvlin, who had jogged ahead to keep up with his exercising routine, ran back shouting, “Guys, there’s company coming up the road.”

  Arty stopped the group and Merryl joined him as Delvlin stopped in front of them, bent at the waist his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

  “Looks like a lot of people coming this way an’ two are on horseback.”

  “Mounted Police?”

  “Naw, I don’t think so.”

  “How long before they see us?” asked Arty as he looked around the area they were at.

  “I dunno, maybe ten minutes. I was runnin’ pretty fast an’ they were just walking, slowish like.”

  “I got an idea.” He called his guys up front and told them his plan, and, as they ran and hid in the high grass on both side of the road, Arty called Ron over to him. “Ron,” he said in a slow, deliberate tone of voice. “Please listen to me and tell me if you get what I’m tellin’ ya. Okay?”

  “Okay”, answered a smiling Ron.

  “In one minute another gang will walk up the road. They’ll probably tell us to get off the road and I’ll say no. You and your gang can stay out of this if you want and just stay back. Me and my gang will try to take the two knights off their horses like we did with that Sir Groggy.”

  “Sir Grogan, Sire.”

  “Yeah, well to me he was Sir Shemp!”

  Ron shook his head, “Sire, thou dost makeith mine head spin at times.”

  “Listen up, Ron. Never mind about his name. Just remember how we unseated Sir Shemp and,” he slapped him on his back, “if you join us, have fun!”

  Ron went back and told his gang of the oncoming group and then came back with his eight friends and asked with a slight bow, “Sir Arthur, wouldst thou honor us by having me and my gang aside yee?”

  Arty smiled and seeing a crop of red hair sticking out of one of their caps said, “Ron you and your gang honor me by standing here. But,” he said removing the cap from one of them, “Your sister Kay must stay back.”

  Kay’s face matched the color of her red hair as she said through clenched teeth, “Sire! I be raised milking cows an’ leading pigs back ta their pens an’ I kin whip any boy what tried ta tame me. So I stay here with mine friends.”

  “Okay, okay,” said Arty surrendering, “Just pick up some nice size rocks for us. Okay?”

  She turned and started to select some rocks.

  “Yonder, sire. Yonder they approach,” said Ron as he took a few rocks from his sister. They spread out evenly across the road and Arty put on his black leather jacket. He looked around and, not seeing Jennie around, lit a cigarette as he passed the eight-foot long wooden staff back and forth from hand to hand.

  “You guys all set?” He called knowing that the group coming his way couldn’t hear him.

  “All set, Arty,” answered, Bruno from the high-grassed area.

  “Yeah,” said an exuberant Lionell hidden in the high-grassed area on the opposite side of the road, “ready to kick some townie’s butts!”

  “Sire,” asked a wide-eyed Ron as he stepped from the rear, “Thou dost take on the look of a dragon with smoke coming from thine nostrils.”

  “What?” said Arty as he turned to see who spoke, “Oh, yeah, a dragon. Well, maybe it’ll shake up them wanna-be knights.”

  “Sire,” shouted Ron and made Arty jump slightly, “Thou hast just named thy steed! Dragon! A fine name indeed, Dragon.”

  “Uh, yeah, okay Ronnie, Dragon it is. Now, let’s get us some more dragons. Okay?”

  Arty did a quick count and guessed that besides the two mounted knights, there were about twenty teenagers supporting them. The two men were mounted on black horses. One knight wore a green tunic over his armor while the other wore a deep crimson tunic over his armor. They stopped about twenty feet away and Arty guessed that that was the normal space for a challenge. He stood with the cigarette between his thumb and middle finger.

  Finally the knight in green roared out in his deepest and scariest tone of voice, “Yonder peasants! Disperse before two knights on a mission of the greatest import.”

  Arty couldn’t help himself and laughed involuntarily at the man who he knew was purposely changing his voice to put a scare into a possible opponent. Man, he thought, they act just like the wrestlers on TV . . . they probably go to a ‘voice coach of the Knights school.’

  Arty, raised watching Hulk Hogan and his cohorts scream into the TV every Friday night, was no slouch at this and imitated the famous wrestler, The Undertaker by speaking in a low, slow voice as his eyes went half lid and he snarled.

  “Us move? Think yee to be the better of us? I think not, knave. Move lest I smite yee and eat your livers for morning-meal.”

  Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Ron and his gang look at him as though he suddenly became the devil himself.

  His act seemed to shake the two horsemen as they began to chat amongst themselves. The Crimson Knight spoke this time, in a tone that matched or was even more chilling than his friend, the Green Knight.

  “Who art thou that wouldst impede the passage of two knights on a mission? Think yee that us knights should walk about yee and dust up our fineries and silks in yon tall grass and marshes? Then I say, think yee again! For shouldst thou stand as we pass yee, the side of me blade will be felt by yews.”

  Arty took a drag of his cigarette and, as the smoke poured out of his mouth and nose, he said in the same low and slow tone of voice, “Come yee at yer own risk fer I’ve not eaten’ this day an’ my cook needs ta fill the larder.” He pointed at the Green Knight and said, “And it be yee that will first feel my bite, Dolt!”

  The Green Knight became visibly upset and stammered in a natural, if high and squeaky, voice, “What manner of man be yee with smoke coverin’ thine face? We seek not a duel with the devil himself. Begone and we shan’t pursue yee.”

  Arty shook his head no and continued. “No! Thou hast challenged myself and friends and I hunger more so as I spy a hoard of livers before me. But, as stated, Dolt, thou shall be my first meal.”

  The Green Knight nervously tried to turn around and his companion was startled as he saw half of his force fading before his eyes. “Wait, Sir Higgins, flight be not our forte! Together we can smite this demon.”

  Just then Arty flicked his cigarette and it sailed through the air leaving a trail of sparks spurring the Green Knight on as he screamed to his pages surrounding him, “Move, peasants, move lest I take my sword to thee.”

  Seeing the disarray in their ranks, Arty shouted, “Keansburg Rules!” and rushed forward waving his staff. His gang of screaming, rock throwing boys and girls followed him. As the knights got tangled up in one another’s equipment and baggage, both sides of the road exploded with screams and more rock throwing as his Keansburg gang ran from cover and grabbed the knights and horses by their garments and reins. The pages that aided the knights were no problem as they thought the knights were there to protect them and just froze or ran. In less than one minute the two knights were lying helplessly on the ground as Arty and Bruno each stood
with a foot on a chest.

  “High five, Dude!” said a jubilant Arty and they gave the thumbs up sign all around. The Keansburg gang was happily surprised to see Ron and William’s crews doing the same high fiving and thumbs up amongst themselves.

  “Undo this travesty!” demanded the Crimson Knight as he tried to sit only to be pushed flat on his back by Jennie.

  “Know thee not who we be, dolts?” asked the Green Knight from his prone position on the dirt road.

  “Know this, Sir Dolt,” quipped Arty loud enough for all to hear, “we don’t care who thou art, Sir Shemp.”

  Ron stepped forward and proclaimed to the fallen knights, “Yee have been bested by Sir Arthur, Knight of Keansburg and he who rights all wrongs such as yee dost lay upon thine servants.”

  “Yeah!” added Arty as he lifted the man’s visor. Dark hateful eyes stared up at him and through clenched teeth the man said, “Yee be in leagues with Satan himself fer I have seen with my very own eyes smoke emanate from yer head.”

  “Shall I free yee then, so ya can punish your servants for not moving fast enough out of your way so yee can flee?” Seeing the man’s uneasiness with being labeled a coward, Arty continued to rub it in. “I think thy cowardness hath saved thee, for in fact I hath no love of eatin’ the liver of a coward lest it taint me fer doin’ so.”

  Still filled with venom he answered, “Free us, as we are born freemen and seek to continue as freemen.”

  “Hey,” answered a smiling Arty as he offered a helping hand, “ya want to be free? No problem. But first, get out of your armor.”

  “Nay!” said the man as he stood trying to get his balance. “Never doth a knight leave his armor on the battlefield.” He suddenly lunged at Arty who easily stepped aside as the slow and cumbersome man missed his target. Arty put a foot out and tripped the knight who fell in a cloud of dust and dirt.

  “Tsk, tsk,” said a chastising Arty as he stood with crossed arms over the man. “Now, Sir Shemp, is it really chivalrous to attack someone who just bested yee?”

  The flailing man seemed like a turtle on its back and Arty helped him up again. “Now,” he said in a firmer tone of voice, “get out of the armor or I’ll drag ya out of it.”

  “Simon!” the man shouted, “Come help me this moment or I’ll thrash thee soundly.”

  A small, freckled faced boy of about ten years of age walked slowly through the crowd and stooped to unfasten the man’s shin armor.

  “Hey Simon,” said Arty, “whatever armor you remove you get to keep.”

  “Keep?” shouted the man as he looked at the boy then back at Arty. “This dolt keeps nothing! I purchased this peasant for three roosters and he does no more than carry mine armor for me rather than own it. Now,” he said as he looked back at the boy, “be fast about yer duties, Simon an perhaps yee get ta eat this night.”

  Arty smiled and said as he stooped down next to the boy, “Simon, tonight you dine with me at my evening-meal and you can even wear some of your new armor if ya wish. What do ya think of that?”

  The boy looked at Arty and pulled extra hard on one of the leather straps that held the armor in place making the man yelp in pain. He smiled and said to Arty, “Sire Arthur, might I truly dine with yee this very eve?”

  “Yes, and you can wear your new armor if you want.”

  “Truly I do, sire.” He unstrapped the shin and followed by removing all of his ex-master’s armor.

  The man stood there wearing what Arty called his thick pajamas.

  “Now we attend to the other fellow,” said Arty and the scene repeated itself as another boy helped remove the armor from a very quiet Crimson Knight.

  “Clear the road,” shouted Arty. He watched as a path was opened and he then turned to the two pajama-clad knights and with a shove, sent them on their way. A roar of approval went up from the freed boys and girls as the two men stumbled away with their heads bowed in shame.

  Arty called Ron and William over and said, “Guys, why don’t you both send your gangs into that crowd that the two knights owned and give them some advice. Like why not join our crew? We’ll be one big happy family and in unity there is strength. What do ya think?” The three agreed by high fiving each other and twenty minutes later there was a definite feeling of unity as the group increased in size.

  Lucas came over to Arty as he was wiping dust off his boots and said with a smile, “Hey Arty, I don’t know what the cops are gonna say when they see our horses and I think we should cut out before they catch us. Lets see if we can bring them back to Grinnels with us. What do ya think?”

  “Lucas, we’re gonna have a sit-down tonight. Just us Keansburg guys . . . and Jennie too.”

  Merryl walked over and slapped Arty on his back. “Arty you sounded just like the wrestler, ‘The Undertaker’ back there.”

  “You know about The Undertaker?”

  “Sure. I handled a few wrestlers back in the late seventies. And I see that you know how they try to intimidate their opponents by yelling all the time.”

  “Yeah, these knights are just rich guys who own armor and serfs. It’s just like a rich guy who owns a yacht. He doesn’t have to be a big guy to drive that million-dollar boat around. I’ll bet that a lot of these knights are just little men in big iron. Take them outta the iron and they shrivel up.”

  “Well,” added Merryl, “we now have sixty-two in our . . . ah, our, what would you call it?”

  “Our gang! That’s what it is and we have to let Ron and William know, as well as whoever the top guys are in the new group, that everyone’s equal in our gang.”

  “Our gang. Ha! It sounds like the ‘Our Gang Comedies.’”

  “Yeah,” said Arty scratching his head in thought. “Wait, it’s simple, ‘The Keansburg Gang.’ That’s it! And now we got ta spread it around and make it proud ta be one of us.”

  “Oh,” added Merryl, “and we now have seven girls in the mix. Plus, three more horses and two wagons that carried food and tents.”

  “Well,” added Arty, “at least the girls can hitch a ride.” A look of puzzlement came across his face and he said, “Hey, Merryl, where do you think these guys were going?”

  “Mmm,” answered the tall handyman as he pondered the question. “That’s a good question, young fellow. Let me ask some of the new lads.” He walked over to the crowd and mingled.

  Percy slapped Arty on the shoulder and offered him a turkey leg. “Here Arty, eat up. This new group was carrying all kinds of cooked stuff an’ lots are still warm.”

  “Lefty, you guys did a great job of removing those knights from their horses.”

  “Yeah. I’m gonna try out a horse. I rode one when my . . . my, ah, well, when my folks were around. You know, a long time ago.”

  Arty nodded as he felt the same pain Percy and all the other kids from the Home felt at certain times. He then did what they all did when the pain was felt: made light of it. “Ha! I’d like ta see you ride a horse, Lefty. Watch ya don’t fall an’ look like a shemp tryin’ ta impress the chicks.”

  “Yeah, it’s been awhile. Are you gonna ride the big white one?”

  “Dragon? Not me, man. Them freakin’ horses are huge! And did ya see the teeth they got? Boy, I don’t want ta get bit by one of them just because I need a ride. Besides, when the cops do show up, I think we gotta have to give them all back . . . I guess.”

  “Yeah, this is weird,” answered Percy as he shook his head. “Man, when ya don’t want the cops, there they are. An’ now that . . . well it’s not like I want them, but where the heck are they? And another thing, have you noticed that not even one car or truck has passed by since that security thing dropped us here?”

  Arty nodded. “We’re havin’ a sit-down tonight. Just us Keansburg guys and Jennie to talk about this. Okay?”

  “Yeah, sure, Arty.”

  “Good. Spread the word an’ we’ll meet by my fire.”

  “Ya mean tent! There’s tents now an’ why don’t us Keansburg guys get ‘em?”


  “Aww, because if we don’t share them, those other kids will think we’re just like the shemps we kicked outta camp.”

  Percy shrugged his shoulders and quipped as he walked away, “Whatever, dude. I’m gonna spread the word about t’night. Later, dude.”

  “Later.”

  “Arty,” said Merryl exiting the crowd, “I found out where they were going.”

  “Okay, where?”

  The tall man shook his head causing his hair to whip about his shoulders. “London!”

  “London?” asked Arty, his face screwed into a questioning look. “Ain’t that in England? I mean, I never heard of London, New Jersey. Did you?”

  “No,” answered Merryl as he scratched his beard. “Arty, you said to tell you whenever I expanded on my theory, and I just did.” He stepped to the side of the road and said, “Art, why not stop here for the night. I mean, we already did have a full day, so to speak, and I’m sure the others would like to kick back and relax early.”

  Arty shrugged his shoulders. “Good idea. I mean, where are we going in such a hurry? To bump into the cops who hang out on the edge of town?” He waved to Percy who trotted over.

  “Yeah, Arty, wha’sup?”

  “Listen, Lefty, tell everyone that we decided ta camp out right here for the night. Okay, dude?”

  “Okay” said Percy, “but I suggest that we move off the road a bit so we don’t get surprised by any wandering outta-towners.”

  “Smart! Real smart!” answered Arty with a nod of approval. He watched as Percy ran back to spread the word.

  “Arthur,” said Merryl in a tone that told Arty he had something important to say. “Will you sit here with me?” he asked as he pointed to a tree off the side of the road. He led the way and Arty followed. They sat under a tall oak tree.

  Merlin started with a sigh as he said in a voice that made Arty hang on every word. “Arty, the theory I told you about earlier is becoming real as time goes by. I asked the new group where they were going and they told me to London for a tournament.”

  “A tournament? Asked Arty, his eyebrows arched, “You mean like jousting and stuff like that?”