“Wha-what was that about?”
“Just a little trick I taught, Arrow.”
“Arrow?”
“Yes. My gray dove. He is trained to fly from me in a straight line to find the seeds I placed somewhere out there.”
“How are ya gonna use him?”
“Not sure,” answered the magician as the bird returned, “but it could come in handy some time.”
That evening as they ate, Arty and Jennie asked Merlin to tell them all he remembered about the fable of Arthur and his court.
“I’m afraid that my memory comes in spurts. And, although it seems to be getting better, I’m afraid that maybe I’ll leave something out that might need to be addressed right away.”
“Well,” asked Jennie, “you seem to be pretty sure about the next week or so. I mean, the sword and stone thing.”
“Maybe that’s because it’s so important?” said Merlin. He rubbed his eyes and said, “There are some things I remember, but I’m not sure it’s right to tell you.”
“You’re not sure?” asked Arty. “Merlin ya gotta tell us all you know. I mean, what if you forget before you tell us?”
“I dunno, Arty. Maybe it’s for the best.”
“Hey! Is it something bad? I mean like do we die or something? You really need to tell us.”
“Merlin,” said Jennie in a soft voice. “Arty is right. You said yourself that you’re not completely sure of your theory. So pretend that you’re just telling us the story of Arthur and his court.”
Merlin breathed deep and exhaled long and slow before he said, “Okay. You might be right and I really have no right to hold back any information that might help you survive this time.”
He sat forward and, with his elbows resting on his knees, made a steeple out of his fingers and rested his chin. “First of all, King Arthur married Guinevere.”
Jennie’s eyes lit up and she blushed as she looked at Arty who had a smile on his face.
“However,” continued Merlin as he shook his head in his hands, “One of the knights of your Round Table has an affair with her.”
“What?” said Arty looking at him, “Who is it? Who would hit on my girl?”
“I-I’m not sure, Arty, it’s vague at this moment.”
“Horsecrap, Merlin. You know who it is, now tell me.”
“Arty,” said Jennie, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Wha-what’s that?”
“I would have to agree to have an affair and that’s something I’d never do.”
He stepped over and took her hands in his. “Yeah, you’re right.” He looked back at Merlin and said, “But I still want to know who it is.”
Merlin looked at him. “Would it change anything if I told you?”
Arty nodded and said, “Yes, it would. But not by me being angry with the dude. It’d change because I’d have a talk with him before time, and let him know that I know because I read it in a history book.”
“And,” said Merlin with a smile, “you think that you are not changing?”
Arty asked in a perplexed voice, “Why do you think I’m changing?”
“Because,” Jennie said as she squeezed his hands, “not so long ago you would have wanted to know so that you can beat him to a pulp.”
Arty smiled as he said, “Yeah, I guess you could be right. I might be changing . . . a little.”
“Perhaps us knowing a little of the future helps us prevent fighting amongst ourselves, Arthur,” said Merlin. “So, the man who had an affair with Guinevere was Sir Lancelot.”
“Lance!” said Arty as he looked into Jennie’s eyes. “Do you still feel that you could shrug him off? I mean, he is a good looking guy, after all.”
“First of all, Arthur,” she said with a twinkle in her eye, “Lance is two years younger than me and second of all, I’m not attracted to blond haired guys. You should know that by now.”
“Okay, Queen Jennie.”
“Actually, Jennie is a nickname. My real name is Genevive.”
“Boy,” said Arty as he shook his head in bewilderment, “Merryl, or rather Merlin, like you said, all of our names fit perfect for your theory. I guess I hafta think the same way too.”
“Yes,” said Merlin, “especially if we are to survive. You know, Arthur, this time period is a harsh one and we would really have no chance of making it if we didn’t sort of know what was going to happen and capitalize on it.”
“Yeah, guess you’re right, Merlin. We better toe the line and be ready for anything. Do you now what happens after I become King?”
“Well, we go and sort of set up shop in a castle called, Camelot. That’s where the Round Table will be and it becomes your home.”
“What about Bruno, Triston and the other guys?”
“From what I remember we all live there together. It seems to become your base of operations.”
“We get to live in a castle,” said a smiling Jennie.
“Well,” said Arty matching her excitement, “I will be King, and a king needs a castle.”
“And I,” she reminded him, “will be Queen.”
“Well, yeah,” he said, “that goes without saying. And you better stock up on those berries too.” Her nudge made him flinch as he yelped, “Ouch! You hit my wound!”
Jennie rolled her eyes.
“So,” Arty asked as he rubbed his arm, “what do you think the next step is, Merlin?”
“When the sword and stone are completed I’ll brief you on my design and how to remove the sword from the stone.” The tall man stood and started to pace as he rubbed his hands in thought. “I’m not sure about any fights that are coming up, Arthur, but I know that while most of England accepts you as king, there are a few who do not, and they need to be put in line.”
“Mmm, I was having a meeting with Garret when that knight started to beat up on one of the kids and we got off track.”
“How can Garret help us if there’s a fight?”
“He’s like a science whiz and I thought maybe we could be ready if a lot of knights come along at once.”
“Arthur, I think you are on the right track. And I might have a few tricks we can use too. I suggest we have a meeting and invite all the kids. This way we can interview each of them and find out their specialties and we can go from there.”
“I’ll set up a meeting for right after tomorrow’s morning-meal. Okay?”
“Good with me Arthur. I’ll see you for breakfast . . . I mean morning-meal.” He walked down the hill as Arty stood and arched his back.
“Oww,” he said to Jennie who was picking up the wooden dishes, “My shoulder sure does hurt from when that stupid horse threw me today.”
“Well, Mister King Arthur,” said Jennie as she shook her head, “I just might have some of that pain-removing jell left. Think that would help?”
“Oh, I do, Jennie, I really do.”
She placed her hands on her hips and looked into his eyes and said, “First you have to promise me something.”
“Sure, anything. What is it?”
“Stop smoking.”
He grinned. “That’s it? Just stop smoking?”
“Yes! It’s not only a disgusting habit but it can destroy you.”
He shrugged and said, “What if I told you that I really don’t smoke? I mean, I light up and drag on it, but I’m sorta just kidding around and not really inhaling.”
Her eyebrows arched. “But why?”
He shrugged again and kicked a pebble as he answered, “It’s kinda like, the guys think it’s cool.”
She covered her moth. “What! You mean you are playing with cancer to impress the guys?”
“Aww, it’s not like that, it’s just that, well, they’re not even mine. I took them from Mister Grinnel.”
She arched an eyebrow, a move that let Arty know she was more than a little serious as she said, “Promise me you won’t do it again.”
“Okay, okay, but let me ask you this. When we meet bad guys, doesn
’t it impress them?”
“Yes, but . . .”
“Well, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll only light one if I think we need to scare the bad guys.”
She pondered this and he went on. “Besides, I only have a few left. So, it’ll be for an emergency only. Okay?”
“I guess.”
“So, then you’ll fix my shoulder?”
She rolled her eyes and he knew her answer. They walked towards the tent, giggling.
Soon after morning-meal, Arty, Jennie, Merlin and Garret sat in the tent. Both ends were open allowing the warm morning sun and breeze to enter as well as the boys and girls who had formed a long line in front. By the time they had all been interviewed it was mid-day mealtime and the smell of roast pork, rabbit, chicken and baked bread wafted throughout the camp.
The four interviewers ate at a table set up outside of the tent. Merlin studied a long roll of parchment paper and nodded every so often at a notation he had put down.
Ron served cool cider and as they sipped it from wooden cups Merlin said. “Well, according to our interview we have thirty-two ironworkers, twenty-seven cooks, sixteen stone workers, sixteen artists, thirty-two wood workers, twenty-nine seamstresses, fifteen troubadours, twenty-two acrobats and the rest are horse handlers and farmer workers. Oh, and all of them can ride a horse and shoot an arrow.”
“I think we do have the makings of some sort of a defense complex,” said Arty.
“Hah!” laughed Merlin. “And what do we give them? Orders for tanks and airplanes?”
“How about flying lanterns?” asked Garret.
“Flying lanterns?” asked Merlin. “What’s that?”
“The Chinese used them for celebrations for hundreds of years.”
“So,” asked Jennie, “how do we use them?”
“You mean,” asked Arty, “when we defeat someone we use them to celebrate?”
“No,” continued Garret as he took the quill off the table, dipped it in the jar of ink and started to draw on the parchment. He explained as he drew, “If we created a square framework of sticks and wrapped it with some light-weight parchment paper but left the bottom open, we could place a small candle on the bottom frame and it becomes a lantern. But when we light the candle, the lantern rises.”
“Why does it rise?” asked Arty as he studied the drawing.
“The heat.” answered Garret, “The heat from the flame of the candle warms the air inside of the lightweight box, making it float up.”
“And,” said Jennie as she caught on, “if we do that we could scare the heck out of someone in this time period. Right?”
“Right,” said Garret.”
“Then,” added Arty, “If we did it at night, the glow from the candle will scare them even more. Right?”
“Right, Arty.”
“And,” continued Arty; “if we launch hundreds of them at night we’d really scare the heck out of them.”
“You got it, Arty.”
“Physiological Warfare Weapon number one,” added Merlin as he wrote it down.
“Well,” added Jennie as she took the quill, “we have so many acrobats here who can walk on stilts, what if we had them walk on stilts that had lit, carved pumpkins on the top of each stilt? In the dark they would look like tall demons coming at them. And if they wore long, white gowns they’d look like giant ghosts from a distance.”
Merlin said as he scratched his beard, “Hey, I have an idea too. When I was a kid we used to fly kites. What if we made large kites out of parchment paper, tied lighted candles enclosed in a parchment box like Garret spoke about to their tails, and flew them at night? We’d have instant flying demons. Boy, that’d scare the heck out of anyone.”
“And,” added Jennie, “if we have the artists paint demon faces on the kites and fly them in the day, it would be like someone called the devil to fight against them.”
“The cooks,” said Merlin in thought, “I’m sure they have some sort of baking powder and if I needed to appear and disappear that’d make a pretty good smoke screen.”
“Listen,” said Arty. “If we had the baking powder and placed some in small bags made of parchment, we could tie it to the kites and just pull a second string to release them. The bags of powder would fall and open in a puff of smoke among the bad guys. At the very least it’ll scare their horses.”
Merlin rubbed his hands together. “I’ve got a great idea. I’m going to ask the cooks to empty their eggs by just making a small hole in the top. Then I’ll let the empty eggshell dry and fill it with flour. Lastly, I’ll melt some candle wax over the hole and seal it. Presto! I have instant disappearing powder in an egg. Just drop or toss it and I can appear or disappear in the smoke screen.”
“I do believe we have a weapons cache,” said Arty nodding his head.”
“Next, we get the various teams together and produce them,” said Jennie. “And if you want, Arty, I’ll do that. Okay?”
“Sounds great to me. Okay, guys?”
“Sure,” added Garret. “And I’ll help with getting the flying lanterns set up.”
“Looks like we had a good meeting,” said Arty.
“Let’s just hope that we don’t need to use any of the weapons, my friends,” said a somber Merlin.
The next few days Jennie seemed to be everywhere. She helped the artists and others with their respective projects and was impressed by their work ethics. She returned to the tent every evening dead tired after working side-by-side with them. Her favorite part of the day was before evening-meal when the girls all got together and dipped into the watering hole. She had to smile to herself when she discovered that the girls were relaxed, as the boys had given their word not to be boys, and peek at them.
She thought as she jumped in with them, I hope the original Keansburg guys keep their word too.
Ron’s sister Kay waded over to her and said as they treaded water, “Dear Jennie, might I be so bold as ta speak ta ya?”
“Please, Kay. I want all of us girls to be friends and feel that we can talk whenever we feel the need ta.”
The pretty girl shook her head as she said, “There be times when I hath trouble knowin’ what ya be sayin’. But, I know thy meanin’.”
“Yes,” said Jennie holding the girl’s hand, “please speak freely ta me.”
“Then, might I ask ye, doth the Keansburg gang hath wives in yer town?”
Jennie had to suppress a giggle as she remembered that boys and girls were married at a young age in the medieval times. Finally she said, “No, Kay. None of the Keansburg boys are spoken for.” She quickly added, “Ah, except for Arty, that is.”
“Oh, we know, dear Jennie. Sir Arthur be fer yee alone.”
“You-you know that?”
“Zounds!” Kay answered with a big grin on her face, “We be seeing that ya have eyes fer him alone. No, Sir Arthur tis fer yee alone.”
Now Jennie laughed as she noticed the other girls watching, as they pretended not to. I wonder if they chose straws to see who would ask me?
“Tell me Kay, do each of the girls have a Keansburg boy picked out fer themselves?”
“Yes, m’lady,” she answered. “And they wouldst be pleased this evenin’ when they know of this good news.”
Jennie looked into the girl’s eyes and asked, “And thou?”
Kay smiled as she blushed and said, “If, perchance, he would have me I would be pleased.”
“Are you going to tell me your pick?”
She blushed and asked, “Lady Jennie, if I might be so bold as ta once again ask thine advice?”
“Please do, Kay. We are friends and friends have no secrets from each other.”
“”I must know of the one called, The Black Knight. Be he a good man?” She held up one hand as she continued, “Please doth not think me wrong fer askin’ that, but, never hath we seen a man so dark of color.”
“The Black Knight is known as Bruno to us and yes, he is as fine a man as any you’ll ever meet. If he be thine ch
oice, dear Kay, yee made a fine choice and will never regret it.”
The young girl suddenly kissed Jennie on her cheek and swam over to the other girls. In a few minutes they were all excited and Jennie knew that Kay had spread the word. “It’s going to get crazy here soon,” she said to herself as the girls all swam over to her for answers to their questions.
While Jennie and her groups created the designs given them by Garret, the ironworkers and stone masons worked on Merlin’s project as Arty and the original Keansburg gang took riding and archery lessons. Soon they looked like they knew what they were doing and even Ron admitted it as he said to Arty, “Thine Keansburg gang and thineself, sire, hath become verily good at ridin’ an’ such. I be proud ta be known as bein’ with ya.”
“Ron, I’m proud that you are one of us. High-five dude!” Ron had learned and slapped a high-five with a pleased Arty.
It was after the mid-day meal that an excited Edward, the ironworker, came running over to Merlin as he sat with Arty and Jennie.
“Wizard Merlin,” he said with a deep bow. “Thy sword be done. Pray, come see.”
Rising, Merlin turned to Arty and the others. “This is it, Arty. Do or die. Let’s go see,” he started down the hill as the others followed.
Once at the bottom, Edward led the way to one of the smaller tents. He stopped and held open the flap allowing Merlin, Arty and Jennie to enter first and he followed, tying the flap behind him. In the center of the tent sat a large, gray-blue stone, round on top but flat at the base. The top of the tent was open to let sunlight enter and it played along the hilt of a sword sticking out of a deep crevice in the stone.
Merlin reached down and ran his hand lovingly along the top of the stone as he whispered “It tis a work of art, Edward. Thee and thine team did a fine job.”
Edward beamed and blushed at the compliment. “Sires,” the young ironworker said, “I take me leave o’ you as I know there be much ya need ta speak of.”
“First,” asked Merlin, “tell me, how did you get the stone into the tent? It looks heavy.”
New Jersey Yankee In King Arthur's Court Page 10