New Jersey Yankee In King Arthur's Court Page 5

  “Exactly!” stated Merryl as he caught a fly in mid-flight and let it go. “And they said anyone who is anyone is going to be there. It seems that King Uther died a few months back and they are getting together to try and select a new king. Now,” he sat forward and rubbed his forehead, “if my memory serves me correctly, around the mid-five hundreds, King Uther died and all the Knights got together to see who could remove a sword from a stone and become the new king.”

  Arty interrupted, “Remove a sword from a stone? How can anyone stick a knife in a stone?”

  “Not a knife, a long sword. And from what the legend said, the sword just appeared with an engraved sign saying that whoever removes the sword will be the new King.”

  ”And does the legend say who became king?”

  Merryl looked at Arty and Arty got a chill as the man said, “Yes. It says that the new king is King Arthur.”

  “Boy!” said a smiling Arty. “What a coincidence: a guy named Arthur!” He looked at Merryl and with the same smile said, “Ya know Merryl, that’s my real name. It’s Arthur and Arty is just my nickname. See the coincidence? The new king’s name is the same as mine. Wild, huh?”

  Merryl shook his head in disbelief. “Arthur! Don’t you understand! Here, watch this.” He took a stick and started writing in the hard dirt. When he was finished he said to Arty, “Here, read this out loud.”

  Arty looked at the list Merryl printed in the dirt and read:

  “Lance-Sir Lancelot,

  Gerry Haad-Sir Galahad,

  Garret-Sir Gawain,

  Percy-Sir Percivale,

  Lionell-Sir Lionell,

  Delvlin-Sir Delvlin,

  Garth- Sir Gareth,

  Lucas- Sir Lucan,

  Bruno-Sir Brunor,

  Triston-Sir Tristram,

  Jennie/Genevive Queen Guinevere.”

  He looked at the list again, then at Merryl who was looking far off in the sky. “Merryl, what does this mean?”

  His question brought the man back and he answered in a soft voice, “If what I’m thinking is true, it means that we are on some sort of a mission.”

  “What kind of a mission?”

  The tall man shrugged and said, “I’m not really sure, Arty. I just know that it fits.”

  “Wait a minute,” cut in Arty, “you even said that you dabbled in, ah, mind altering goodies back in the sixties, so maybe you got it all wrong.”

  “Arty, have you ever thought of the odd names our group has? I mean, who names their kid, Delvlin, or Lionell or Percy? No! The more I think about it, the more it fits!”

  “Yeah, well what about me?”

  “Arty!” he said almost in a shout. “Don’t you see? You are to be the King of England! King Arthur of the Round Table and the others are to be your knights! We are playing out King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table.”

  Arty sat quiet for a moment then asked in a soft voice, “And Queen Guinevere? Is that really Jennie?”

  “Far as I can see. Jennie is short for Genevive, which is a modern version of Guinevere. And Arthur and Guinevere get married, so she becomes your queen.”

  “Well then, wait, wait,” asked a suddenly excited Arty thinking he was about to shoot down Merryl’s theory, “What about you? I mean you’re here with us, so, what about you?”

  Merryl shook his head slowly as he answered in the same low voice, “So simple when you know the story, I’m to be Merlin The Magician.”

  “But, but, that’s stupid! I mean I know that you know some tricks but a magician? That’s a bit far, don’t ya think?”

  With a shrug of his shoulders, Merryl said, “Who knows? I mean, I do know a lot from just living life the way I did. And,” he said raising his index finger as if to prove a point, “a little knowledge does go a long way.”

  “But, how can you be sure, Merryl?”

  “I can’t. But, if we go to the tournament and there is a stone with a sword sticking out of it, you just have to give it a try. After all, nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

  “Boy,” said Arty as he rubbed his forehead, “I know what Percy means when he says where’s a cop when ya want one.”

  “I suggest you brief the others as soon as possible, Arty.”

  “Yeah! I called for a sit-down tonight.”

  “A sit-down? What’s that?”

  “Kinda like a gang meeting ta talk things out. I mean, we got some young guys here an’ they’re getting restless not knowing what’s goin’ on.” He looked at Merryl with wide-open eyes as he went on, “Not that I know what’s goin’ on, but at least we can tell them about your theory.”

  “Do you think they can all handle it?”

  “These guys?” Arty shook his head as he said, “Ya better believe they can take it, Merryl. These kids have all been through some tough crap losing their folks an’ stuff. Having ta listen’ ta Mrs. Grinnel tell them to save the milk in their cereal bowl if they want seconds, an’ makin' us use the same damp towel for three guys after a bath.” He shook his head and continued as he looked up into the sky, “Ya better believe they can take it, they’re tough.”

  “Another thing, Arty, you’re going to have to learn to ride a horse.”

  “What? Not me Merryl, I hate them things.”

  “Arty, they are the automobiles of this time period and a king must have a horse and know how to ride it.”

  Arty rolled his eyes and said, “I dunno about this king stuff, Merryl. But, I’ll tell you what. If we go to the tournament and I do pull that stupid sword outta the rock, then I’ll learn ta ride a horse. Sound good to you?”

  “Sounds good to me. Now I must practice my new trade.” He reached over and pulled an egg from Arty’s ear, dropped it and, as it broke on the hard earth said, “I better start using only hard-boiled eggs from now on.”

  That evening the Keansburg Gang made camp with a hill between them and the road. They put up six large tents and started a common campfire. A hunting group went out and soon returned with rabbits and other small game. The original Keansburg crew turned a blind eye as the others cleaned the game before roasting it over a large spit. As they ate, the original Keansburg crew sat and listened to Arty as he told of Merryl’s theory. As usual after the sit-down, questions were allowed and all were about whether Arty thought the theory was true or not.

  “I’m not really sure, but like Merryl said, in a couple of weeks there’s a big tournament in London and then we’ll know for sure.”

  “How?” asked Gerry Haad, his large brown eyes glowing by the light of the campfire.

  “Well,” said Arty as he wiped his hands in the tall grass, “for one thing, Merryl thinks that the sword in the rock will be a big indicator.”

  “Are ya gonna try to pull it out, Art?” asked Merryl.

  “Why not? What the heck do I have ta lose?”

  “Can I try, too?” quipped Triston as he flexed his muscles.

  “Hey man,” said Arty as he shrugged his shoulders, “anyone can try. I mean if anyone of the Keansburg crew makes king, it’ll be good for all of us. Right?”

  A chorus of “Keansburg rules, Keansburg rules, and Keansburg rules” greeted him.

  He turned to Merryl and, with a smile said, “Well, dude. Our group can handle your theory. Now we just need ta find out if it’s for real.” He pondered and said to no one in particular; “Man, I wonder if there’s cops in your theory time?”

  Later, three of the new guys walked around playing small stringed instruments and singing to everyone’s amusement.

  “These guys are pretty good, huh Arty?” said Lucas as he finished off a third rabbit leg.

  “Yeah,” answered Arty, “but I bet they never heard some good rap?”

  “Shall we?” asked Bruno rising from the tree stump they sat on.

  “Sure,” answered Lucas. He pointed at Arty and said, “You do the lead, I’ll do first tenor, Garret, you take second tenor, and Bruno you got base. Okay?”

  The four boys stood and Arty lea
d off with a 50 Cent piece.

  “New York City!

  You are now rocking...with 50 Cent

  You gotta love it...

  I just wanna chill and twist the lye

  Catch stunts in my 7-45

  You drive me crazy shorty I

  Need to see you and feel you next to me

  I provide everything you need and I

  Like your smile I don't wanna see you cry

  Got some questions that I got to ask and I

  Hope you can come up with the answers babe.”

  The guy’s hip-hop harmony drifted through the campsite and before it was over everyone stood and listened to them rap in the night.

  Applause burst out and the kids demanded more of this new music so the boys broke into more of the rap standards. It wasn’t until midnight that they all turned in.

  Early the next morning the singing of birds in the trees above the tents woke Arty. He was in a tent large enough to share with six of the guys and he had hung a tapestry between the guys and Jennie who had a small corner of the tent to herself. He rapped on the wooden pole next to her sleeping place and she pulled back the tapestry and stepped out.

  Arty’s eyes bulged and his jaw dropped as he saw a beautiful girl dressed in a long, red and gold dress and sequenced slippers. Her hair was done up in braids that were wrapped around her head in the style of the other girls she recently met.

  “Wow,” said Arty in a low voice as he took her all in. “Jennie, you-you’re, beautiful!” He stammered as he tried to recapture his nonchalant attitude towards the girl. “Uh, what I mean, is . . . well, like I never really saw ya dressed up. I mean, you know what I mean, like usually you’re dressed in jeans and, and, well . . .”

  Her face tensed. “Yes, Arthur. I’m usually dressed in jeans and that ugly yellow shirt with the owner’s name on the back that let everyone know that I lived in an orphanage. My hair was usually just pulled back because there was never enough hair shampoo and conditioner to take care of it.” She suddenly did a whirl and kicked a foot into the air in a kind of dance of freedom as she went on, “I never got the chance to dance because the music we liked was sinful and if I ever kicked my feet up to high, people could see that I had holes in my shoes and had them stuffed with cardboard to help from getting another hole in my socks.”

  Her shoulders shuddered as she suddenly burst into tears and sank to the ground, her sobs buried in her arms.

  Arty quickly kneeled down next to her and said in a whisper, “Jennie! Don’t cry. Please?” He wrapped his arms around her as he said, “Listen, if it makes you feel any better, I feel the same way you do.”

  She looked at him and he wiped a tear away as she asked, “You-you do?” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “But, you always seemed so-so, well, so accepting of everything. Like it didn’t matter to you.”

  Arty placed a light kiss on her cheek and said, “It mattered, believe me it mattered. But what could I do? I felt like crap when I was told that I couldn’t have seconds during dinner or take French because the home schooling only taught English. And the time I saw Mr. Grinnel wack Lance on the back of his head with a stick when he was only nine years old. I wanted ta rap him in his face . . . but, I was just about thirteen then and needed ta stay there.”

  “You kissed me.”

  “What?” asked a startled Arty.

  “You just kissed me on the cheek.”

  “Aww, it was just ‘cause ya were upset an’ crying.”

  She said as she looked at him with glistening eyes, “Want to kiss me again?”

  Arty looked at her said, “Wow, Jennie. You sure do have pretty eyes. I mean, I never really . . .”

  Jennie leaned forward just enough to give him a reason to kiss her again, and he did. But this time it was on her pursed, red lips.”

  “Boy!” he said as he licked his lips, “Raspberry? Is there such a thing as Raspberry lipstick?”

  “No, silly. The girls here pick Raspberries and squeeze the juice out of them and rub it on their lips. Sort of like natural lipstick.”

  “Um, can I try it again?” asked Arty trying to make it sound as though it was the taste of the berry that made him want to kiss her again.

  Her answer was the puckering of her lips and Arty kissed her longer and deeper this time.

  A stirring behind him got him on his feet in time to see Ron knock on the outside wooden post before entering with a wooden plate full of bacon, eggs and warm buns.

  He looked at Jennie and did a small bow as he said, “Forsooth, m’lady. I doth beg pardon fer entering without an announcement.”

  “That’s okay, Ron,” said Arty as he slapped him on the back. “This is just Jennie all dressed up.”

  Jennie became Jennie of old very fast as she stood tapping her foot and said, “If Ron feels the need to bow to a lady, Arthur, why not let him act as gentlemen do?” Her emphasis on the word, gentlemen, was not lost on a confused Arty.

  After breakfast was finished and the group was cleaning up the area, Merryl came over to Arty and said, “Arty, I have a plan.”

  “I’m all ears, dude. Go for it.”

  “Well, according to the new group, the tournament will be taking place in two weeks. Now, what if I go there first, dressed as a traveler of sorts and feel it out? You guys stay here in the woods and I’ll get back to you as fast as I can. Good?”

  “That sounds like a plan to me,” answered Arty. “I’ll tell the guys and we’ll settle in for a while.”

  “Good,” said the tall man as he rubbed his palms together. “First, I must talk to the three ladies.”

  “The three ladies?” asked Arty.

  “Yep! If I’m going to be a magician, I need to look like a magician.”

  Two hours later Merryl walked amongst the group as they set about washing clothes and making lunch. All stopped and followed him to Arty’s tent. He called out in his fiercest wrestler’s voice, “Arthur! Come see me.”

  Arty came out and stopped short as he saw Merryl. “Wow! Dude! Let me see ya.”

  Merryl stood with his arms crossed in a long, flowing outfit with very wide sleeves. It was blue-black with gold stars and planets sewn on it. On his head he wore a twenty-four inch high, pointed hat with the same coloring. The height with the hat gave him an imposing appearance. Around his waist he wore a red sash with a large leather pouch tied to it.

  “What do you think, Arty? Do I fit the bill as a magician?”

  “Boy, Merryl. All ya need ta do now is some tricks an’ you’re home free.”

  “Well, I’ve been practicing and it’s like riding a bike! It comes back real fast. Here,” he said reaching behind Arty’s back, “let me get them for you.” He brought out a handful of yellow and white flowers. “Now,” he whispered in his ear, “if I were you I’d give these to Jennie.”

  Arty’s wink told him that he agreed with him.

  “Merryl, you really look great. And the three ladies from our group put this together in such a short time?”

  “It’s what they do in this time period, young man. They couldn’t just go pick an outfit off the rack and there’s no online shopping here. No, they all had to know how to create their own clothing. And,” he added as he showed him the leather pouch, “the guys are handy too. They made me this pouch with a section for my magic toys and another for food and they all know iron-working because they needed to keep their knight’s armor in shape.”

  “Cool, dude. So, what’s your plan?”

  “I’m going to walk into London and scout about. It should take about two days and I’ll return with the next plan.”

  “Okay, but why not take a horse and be easy on yourself?”

  Merryl shook his head as he said, “I thought of that but I haven’t rode in years and I’m afraid I’ll look foolish.” He held up his hand and went on firmly, “However! I do think that you should take the time to learn to ride. Don’t forget that the horse is the main means of transportation and a king needs to be able to r
ide.”

  Arty shrugged and said, “Yeah, I guess so. I’ll give it a shot. Meanwhile,” he said offering his outstretched hand, “Good luck, dude. And come back soon.”

  They shook hands and Merryl picked up a staff and walked away in a proud strut. “London town, here I come.”

  Merryl had walked about five miles and was starting to wish he had taken Arty’s advice and tried a horse, when the sound of a horse’s foot falls came up behind him. He stepped to the side of the road as a man approached riding a wagon pulled by a speckled, brown and white horse. The wagon was piled high with hay and vegetables and the man’s coarse clothing and deep tan showed him to be a farmer. Merryl nodded then stepped back on the road as the man passed. He walked another thirty feet and as he came to a curve in the road saw the man waiting for him. Merryl started to walk past when the man removed his leather hat.

  “Sir! Might yee be a man o’ the cloth?”

  Merryl caught his meaning right away and answered, “No, friend. Thank yee for thine compliment but I am as are thee, a working man.”

  “A working man? Dressed in such finery? ‘Tis a shame that yee be walkin’ on such a warm day. Allow me yer company an’ sit up next ta me.”

  “Ah,” said Merryl as he removed his tall hat and wiped his brow. “A most generous offer an’ one I shan’t pass up, friend. Merryl be mine name.”

  “And, sir, I be Thomas. Now hop up an’ are ya on the way ta London?”

  “That I am, Thomas. And thou?”

  “The same, Merryl. I be off ta London ta sell me hay an’ corn.” He leaned and said in a low voice, “An’ maybe have a pint or two.”

  They both laughed and Merryl thought, My Lord. No matter what the date is, man is the same. Work hard and play when he can.

  “What be yer business, Merryl, if I may be so bold ta ask?”

  “Bold is something that yee are not, friend Thomas, and my business is to bring pleasure to others.” He pulled a flower from out of Thomas’s hat and said, “Presto!”