The man’s eyes went wide as he said, “Merryl! Ya be a wizard!”
“Well, I don’t think a wizard . . .”
“A wizard,” Thomas said with a big grin that showed more than a few missing teeth, “An’ I had the good fortune ta pick ya up!”
“Well,” said Merryl, “I guess you might call me a wizard.” He grinned inwardly and thought, Well, if being a wizard is a good thing, then why not call myself a wizard?
The rest of the trip into London allowed Merryl to practice his wizardry on a very receptive Thomas. And, he thought, it’s as I told Arty: It’s like riding a bike, and man, I can now ride with the best of them. He pulled a bird’s feather from his pouch and after palming it for a while removed it from Thomas’s ear. The man was beside himself.
They camped just off the road for the night and Merryl split the cooked chicken he brought along with Thomas who provided roasted pork his wife had prepared for his journey. Thomas retrieved a jug of wine he had hidden under the hay and both men enjoyed the warm evening as they sipped and chatted late into the night.
The next morning, breakfast consisted of the leftover chicken and pork washed down by the cool water of a brook near their campsite. This was really the first time Merryl got to see his host not sitting in the wagon and in daylight. Thomas was a short, thick-set man with reddish brown hair that seemed to grow out of any part of his body that wasn’t covered by his leather coat and wool trousers. He wore a leather hat that had a wide brim to shield his face from the sun, but it wasn’t wide enough as he was deeply tanned. He had a pair of the largest hands Merryl had ever seen and he lifted the wagon easily when it got stuck in a rut.
“Tis but a few hours afore we reach London, friend Merryl. Will ya be stayin’ in the Topsy?”
“The Topsy?” asked Merryl as he shrugged his shoulders, “Pray tell, what’s the Topsy?”
“Tis the place where us farmers an’ travelin’ folk stay when a tournament settles in London. A half penny fer a night gets ya food an’ heat when the evenin’ carries a chill.”
“Actually, my friend, I have no plans made and it is of great embarrassment ta me ta say that I have but a half penny ta me name.” He held up a hand and said before Thomas could speak, “But my thought was ta only see London and be on me way back at once.”
“Yer daft!” said Thomas as he looked at his new friend. “Bein’ a wizard ya got all o’ London at yer feet!”
“Uh,” mumbled Merryl as he searched for an answer. “You see, friend Thomas, where I am from I perform with a troupe and as I am alone, I have no knowledge of where one wouldst begin in London.”
“Then begin with me, dear Merryl, for I hath knowledge of folks such as yerself in London. An they be lodgin’ at the Topsy as am I.”
“Then, kind sir,” said Merryl, “pray lead the way.”
Back at the camp Arty and Lionell were playing with two swords and feigning attack and defense.
“Gotcha,” shouted Arty as he lunged forward as though he were going to run Lionell through.
“Ya missed,” answered the other boy who was just slightly shorter than Arty.
“Aww, you’re nuts! I would have got you that time.”
“Sire!” shouted Ron, sternly.
Both boys turned to see what was the matter and Ron continued, “Sire, surly thou knowest that thou art in good chance of bein’ hurt?”
“Aww,” answered Arty, “we’re just kidding around.”
“Sire, I must ask that yee allow me ta put yer armor on for should ya be hurt, I be at fault fer not doin’ so.”
“Aww, Ron. That armor is so bulky and hard to wear.”
“No, sire,” he said as he shrugged his shoulders. “Fer ye must o’ put the armor on wrongly. I pray, let me dress thee.”
Arty shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, Ron. I’ll give it a shot.”
The boy shrugged again as he said, “Yer talk be weird at times such as these, sire. Dost thou meanst it be fine ta dress ya in yer armor?”
“Yes,” answered a smiling Arty, “but only if you get Lionell dressed too.”
“Fine, sire. I shall do so.” He ran down the hill.
Ten minutes later Ron returned with three other boys all carrying armor. “Sir Lionell,” Ron said as he brought a blond haired boy of about eleven years of age to him, “this be Timothy an’ he would be thine armorer, if’n ya wish it ta be so.”
“Sure. Fine with me,” answered Lionell.
The two boys had them armored in less than ten minutes.
“Wow!” said Arty as he moved effortlessly in his armor. “I guess we were putting the armor on wrong because this feels fine. What about you, Lionell?”
“What a difference when someone knows how to put it on.” He was answered by Arty with a wack of his sword on his back.
“Ha! Got ya that time, Sir Lionell.”
“Sires!” Ron and Timothy shouted at the same time causing the two boys to stop their mock battle.
“Thou must don thy helmets! Else why don armor to simply leave thy head open for a thrashing?”
Sheepishly Arty and Lionell allowed the boys to place the steel helmets on their heads.
“Now?” asked Arty.
“Yes, sire, now!” answered Ron as he stepped back.
Both Arty and Lionell swung at each other only to miss most of the time and when they did score a hit they shouted jubilantly at their good luck, much to Ron and Timothy’s delight.
Inside of ten minutes both boys stopped and raised their visors to reveal tired, sweaty faces and hair matted on their foreheads.
“Phew!” said Arty as he rested against a tree. “Man, this is tiring.”
“Darn right,” answered an out-of-breath Lionell.
“Sires, “ said Ron approaching them. “Might I give thee a few things to ponder?”
“What did he say?” asked Lionell.
“Ahhh,” said Arty as he closed his eyes and thought, “he wants to give us a few things to think about.” He opened his eyes and said, “Oh, I get it. Ron wants to show us a few moves to think about.” He handed Ron his sword and said, “Sure Ron, go right ahead and show us.”
“Might I, sire?” asked Timothy with an outstretched hand to Lionell.
“Surely, knock yourself out, dude,” answered Lionell as he passed him his sword.
Both unarmored boys circled each other with two hands on their sword’s handles as Ron spoke. “Always, sires, grip thine swords with both hands as one hand will weaken faster than two. Never swing at yer enemy until yee see a spot ta hit, for should ya swing before time he shall strike yee down. Never let there be a tree at yer back as yee may trip on her roots or ya may need ta step back an’ be blocked from doin’ so.”
A crowd had gathered and all watched and cheered as the two boys feinted and dodged each other’s strikes. Before long all of the original Keansburg boys were dressed in their armor and practicing being knights. Each was dressed by one of the ‘now knight-less’ pages.
It was later as they lay on the grass regaining their strength that they were treated to a beautiful sight. Out of the light haze from the smoke of the fire pits appeared a white horse with a high-backed saddle and red and gold tapestry hanging from the horse’s reins. Sitting sidesaddle was Jennie. As she got closer to the group of fifty plus boys they could see that she was dressed in a long, flowing, white gown trimmed in gold braid. She wore red slippers with glistening sequences and her hair was braided and wrapped up atop her head and held in place with yellow ribbons. Jennie wore a short, conical shaped hat with a white lace streamer trailing from the tip to the back of her horse. The boys were stunned by her appearance and, not knowing what to do, stood quietly as she passed.
Arty stood with them, his jaw hanging open as he remembered Merryl saying, . . . “Guinevere becomes your queen.”
“Wow! He said to himself.
Still on the road to London, the wagon Merryl was riding on crested a hill and once on the other side, Thomas stopped his horse. He pointed
and said, “Look my friend. ‘Tis London. She stands as pretty as a gem an’ she beckons all ta visit her.”
Merryl shielded his eyes from the overhead sun and almost fainted as he took it all in. Tall towers were set in the wall that surrounded the city and he could make out where sections of the wall had been knocked down as the city expanded and new walls put up. Although it was made of stone and timber, it seemed to gleam as the sunlight reflected on it. White smoke blended with black and gray smoke as fires produced by various fuels floated up and met in the still air above the city giving it an appearance of a city on a cloud.
Lord! It’s New York City! Thought Merryl as he sat speechless. And I fear the answer to my theory is affirmative! We have gone back in time to England of the five hundreds.
“Pray tell, Merryl. Is she not as pretty as a gem?”
Snapping out of it Merryl looked at Thomas and said with an honest smile, “Lord, yes! It is as beautiful a city as I have ever seen, friend Thomas.”
“Then let us enter her and rejoice that out journey has ended well.”
They rode down the path towards the city gate. It was open and people spilled outside in order to be the first to sell their wares to anyone entering the city.
A sudden assortment of smells hit him. They ranged from the sweet smell of freshly cut flowers, to smoked pig, human sweat and the lack of deodorants and sewers. He fought off the urge to pinch his nose as he thought, If I am to be one of them, I must act like one of them and accept the facts of present day life as they are.
They rode over an open drawbridge with fast flowing water beneath it and entered the city. Their wagon was immediately pressed on all side with the crowd and Merryl kept a smile on his face even as he saw the mix of people. Beggars sat with raised hands and begged for a scrap of bread while within an arm’s length there was a stand filled with fruit and vegetables, all used as a resting place for flies. A soldier on each side of the gate eyed them as they passed and a woman thrust a fish up at them as they came abreast of her wagon, filled to the brim with fish.
“Yer lords,” she shouted showing lots of spaces where her teeth were supposed to be, “This be the best fish ya kin git in the city fer it be ketched this very morn.”
The very next wagon showed Merryl that advertising wasn’t just for his time period as there was a wooden cutout of a large, yellow fish nailed to the awning that proclaimed in uneven, red letters, FISH. He laughed to himself as he thought, Good idea friend. But if you gave reading lessons, there would be more people stopping by.
Two beautiful young women smiled up at them as they rode through the crowd. Merryl tipped his hat and suddenly realized they were very young and he looked the other way fast. He took a quick peek back when they had passed and was sort of hurt to see that they were already chatting with a man in the following wagon. He mentally shrugged his shoulders as he thought, Got to remember that they married very young in this time period.
Thomas turned a corner and the crowd all but disappeared as they took to the narrow side streets. The din of the crowd was left behind and was replaced by the clopping of Thomas’s horse. He turned another corner and stopped in front of an, already old, three-story stone building with a rather small wooden door.
A sign above the door spelled, TOPSY and Thomas said with a smile, “Here we be, friend Merryl. Please come and see what life brings us.”
Merryl felt out of place dressed in his outfit but he was surprised that nobody seemed to take notice of him as he followed Thomas up the stone step and into the rather spacious room that he believed to be the lobby.
A shout went out from a thin, almost bald man who sat behind a wooden, beer cask that served as a desk. “Thomas! Ya heathen ya! Where ya been fer nine moons?”
“Ahhh,” said Thomas as he reached across the would-be table and hugged his friend, “The snows kept me from roamin’ Harold. Tell me, how been yee?”
“Oh, just a touch o’ the gout. Nothin’ a pint won’t help.”
“Then a pint we’ll have this very evinin’.”
“An,” asked the innkeeper tipping his head towards Merryl, “who be yer friend?”
“Tis Merryl, an a fine friend he be too. Fer he kept me joyous all the way ta London. An he be in need o’ a room. Might ya have a spare?”
“Fer a half penny I have a bin in the cellar. It be warm an’ dry an’ hast a hay stuffed bed.”
“Well, Harold. He be doin’ a show this very day an’ will be placin’ a coin in yer hand ‘fore the sun rises tomorrow.”
“Pray tell, friend Merryl what sort o’ show be ya doin’?”
“Kind sir, I be a wizard.”
Harold sat and said in awe, “A wizard? Right here in me own establishment?”
Grasping the moment Merryl reached behind the man’s ear as he said, “If thou be so kind as ta have me, friend Harold, an’ look what yee be hiden’ in yer hair,” he handed him an egg.
“Me lord! A wizard right here an’ livin’ in me place.” Harold scratched his head and said as he squinted in thought, “Me thinks mayhaps there be a chance ta have ya abide right here fer free. I mean, what say yee ta havin’ a show in this very abode?”
“An excellent thought, friend Harold,” said Thomas as he slapped Merryl on his back. “An’ ya kin take his half penny right from any admission ya set ta see the wizard.” He winked at Merryl as he went on, “What say yee ta that, friend Merryl?”
“Methinks that be a fair deal,” he turned to Harold and asked, “would’st thou let me get ready in thine bin fer the show?”
“Ya kin use the bin right away, Wizard Merryl.” He turned to the rear and shouted, “Young James! Come ta me, son.”
A young, shoeless, red haired boy of nine came from the rear and said with a big toothy smile, “Papa, ya need me?”
“Yes,” said Harold patting his boy’s head. “We be blessed with a wizard this very day an’ I need ya ta run about an’ tell all that tonight there be a magic show right here in this very room. Half a penny will get ‘em some ale and magic.” He patted the boy’s back and said as he urged him out the door, “Go on now lad. Do a good job an’ ya get ta sit on me shoulders ta see the wizard do magic this very evenin’.”
The boy ran off and Harold said, “Wizard Merryl, if’n ya dost follow me, I’ll take yee ta the bin.” He went to the rear and Merryl followed.
Harold took a small candle, lit it and went down some damp stone steps and Merryl followed. The stairway was so low that Merryl had to remove his hat and stoop over as they descended them to a stone walled basement. It had a small window with bars set in it and a wooden shutter braced up with a stick. Against one wall was a small wood-framed bed with straw on it. The fact that the straw was flat told Merryl that it hadn’t been changed since the last occupant. There was a three-legged wooden table with a stool against another wall. The table had a small candle set on a flat stone on top of it. Three wooden pegs jammed into the spaces between the stones were his closets.
Harold swept his arm with the candle around the small space and proudly proclaimed, “This be thine room, friend wizard. Methinks it be not as yer used ta, but what with the tournament in town it be hard ta find a spot ta rest yer head.”
“Friend, Harold,” said Merryl in as mysterious a voice as he could muster, “it be perfect fer me ta conjure up some o’ me spells fer this evenin’s show.”
“Spells?” asked a surprised Harold. “Right here? Pray tell me friend wizard, will they be good spells?”
“Worry not, friend Harold, for I shall only awake good spells in thine home.”
“Then, rest an’ when James returns, I’ll send the boy down with some soup and bread.”
Harold went back up the stairs and Merryl sat on the bed. He opened his leather pouch and carefully went through the small amount of coins, flowers, fishing line, hooks and other magical toys he had. Merryl thought as he shook his head, Well, Merryl. You better go through your act right now and get set for the magic show of your li
fe.
An hour later he heard the slap of bare feet coming down the stone steps and James appeared carrying a wooden tray with a bowl of beef soup and thick white bread. The boy did a nervous bow as he set it on the table.
“Boy,” said Merryl in a soft voice, “Where be thine shoes?”
“Beggin’ yer pardon wizard. Me little brother be wearin’ them now as me feet don’t fit them no more an’ his do.”
Merryl patted his bed and said, ”Sit down and chat with me.”
“Will ya do a magic trick?”
Merryl smiled and pulled a twig out from behind the boys tangled hair.
James’ eyes bulged, “Gadzooks! Ya did magic ta me! Ya did, an’ I got ta tell me friends! A wizard did magic ta me.”
“So,” asked Merryl, “Did you get many people for tonight’s show, James?”
“Can I try on yer hat?”
Merryl passed the hat to the smiling boy and he set it on his head.
“Gadzooks, I be a wizard!” he looked up at the man and answered his question. “Oh, I ran, kind wizard, an’ did as me papa told me ta do an’ I went an’ told this many people.” He opened and closed his ten fingers at least six times and patted the hat as he said, “Magic hat make me fly!”
“James, fer bein’ so good a son to yer papa, tonight I’ll do a special magic ta ya.”
The boy jumped up and passed the hat back to Merryl as he said excitedly, “Oh, kind wizard, if thou dost magic ta me, Kathrin will like me fer a boyfriend.”
“Do you like this Katherin, James?”
“Ahh, wizard, she be as pretty as a flower.”
“Tell me, will Kathrin be at the show this evening?”
“Aye wizard, that she will.”
“And pray tell, what color be her hair?”
The boy’s eyes closed as he answered, “Kind wizard, Katherin has yeller hair like a flower in the meadow when the rays o’ the sun strikes it.”
“Then tonight, James, I will certainly do magic on yee.”
Twenty minutes later Merryl brought the empty bowl upstairs. Harold was just finishing placing benches and empty beer casks around the lobby. Seeing the wizard, Harold did a slight bow from the waist as he said, “Ah Wizard Merryl! Pray tell, how be thine meal?”
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