IF knights errant were to be
believed, not all castles were
desirable places to seek hospitality
in. As a matter of fact, knights
errant were NOT persons to be
believed -- that is, measured
by modern standards of veracity;
yet, measured by the standards
of their own time, and scaled
accordingly, you got the truth.
It was very simple: you discounted
a statement ninetyseven per cent.;
the rest was fact. Now after
making this allowance, the truth
remained that if I could find
out something about a castle
before ringing the doorbell --
I mean hailing the warders --
it was the sensible thing to
do. So I was pleased when I saw
in the distance a horseman making
the bottom turn of the road that
wound down from this castle.
As we approached each other,
I saw that he wore a plumed helmet,
and seemed to be otherwise clothed
in steel, but bore a curious
addition also -- a stiff square
garment like a herald's tabard.
However, I had to smile at my
own forgetfulness when I got
nearer and read this sign on
his tabard:
"Persimmon's
Soap -- All the Prime-Donna
Use It."
That was a little idea of my
own, and had several wholesome
purposes in view toward the civilizing
and uplifting of this nation.
In the first place, it was a
furtive, underhand blow at this
nonsense of knight errantry,
though nobody suspected that
but me. I had started a number
of these people out -- the bravest
knights I could get -- each sandwiched
between bulletin-boards bearing
one device or another, and I
judged that by and by when they
got to be numerous enough they
would begin to look ridiculous;
and then, even the steel-clad
ass that HADN'T any board would
himself begin to look ridiculous
because he was out of the fashion.
Secondly, these
missionaries would gradually,
and without
creating suspicion or exciting
alarm, introduce a rudimentary
cleanliness among the nobility,
and from them it would work down
to the people, if the priests
could be kept quiet. This would
undermine the Church. I mean
would be a step toward that.
Next, education -- next, freedom
-- and then she would begin to
crumble. It being my conviction
that any Established Church is
an established crime, an established
slave-pen, I had no scruples,
but was willing to assail it
in any way or with any weapon
that promised to hurt it. Why,
in my own former day -- in remote
centuries not yet stirring in
the womb of time -- there were
old Englishmen who imagined that
they had been born in a free
country: a "free" country with
the Corporation Act and the Test
still in force in it -- timbers
propped against men's liberties
and dishonored consciences to
shore up an Established Anachronism
with.
My missionaries were taught
to spell out the gilt signs on
their tabards -- the showy gilding
was a neat idea, I could have
got the king to wear a bulletin-board
for the sake of that barbaric
splendor -- they were to spell
out these signs and then explain
to the lords and ladies what
soap was; and if the lords and
ladies were afraid of it, get
them to try it on a dog. The
missionary's next move was to
get the family together and try
it on himself; he was to stop
at no experiment, however desperate.
that could convince the nobility
that soap was harmless; if any
final doubt remained, he must
catch a hermit -- the woods were
full of them; saints they called
themselves, and saints they were
believed to be. They were unspeakably
holy, and worked miracles, and
everybody stood in awe of them.
If a hermit could survive a wash,
and that failed to convince a
duke, give him up, let him alone.
Whenever my missionaries overcame
a knight errant on the road they
washed him, and when he got well
they swore him to go and get
a bulletin-board and disseminate
soap and civilization the rest
of his days. As a consequence
the workers in the field were
increasing by degrees, and the
reform was steadily spreading.
My soap factory felt the strain
early. At first I had only two
hands; but before I had left
home I was already employing
fifteen, and running night and
day; and the atmospheric result
was getting so pronounced that
the king went sort of fainting
and gasping around and said he
did not believe he could stand
it much longer, and Sir Launcelot
got so that he did hardly anything
but walk up and down the roof
and swear, although I told him
it was worse up there than anywhere
else, but he said he wanted plenty
of air; and he was always complaining
that a palace was no place for
a soap factory anyway, and said
if a man was to start one in
his house he would be damned
if he wouldn't strangle him.
There were ladies present, too,
but much these people ever cared
for that; they would swear before
children, if the wind was their
way when the factory was going.
This missionary
knight's name was La Cote Male
Taile, and he
said that this castle was the
abode of Morgan le Fay, sister
of King Arthur, and wife of King
Uriens. monarch of a realm about
as big as the District of Columbia
-- you could stand in the middle
of it and throw bricks into the
next kingdom. "Kings" and "Kingdoms" were
as thick in Britain as they had
been in little Palestine in Joshua's
time, when people had to sleep
with their knees pulled up because
they couldn't stretch out without
a passport.
La Cote was much depressed,
for he had scored here the worst
failure of his campaign. He had
not worked off a cake; yet he
had tried all the tricks of the
trade, even to the washing of
a hermit; but the hermit died.
This was, indeed, a bad failure,
for this animal would now be
dubbed a martyr, and would take
his place among the saints of
the Roman calendar. Thus made
he his moan, this poor Sir La
Cote Male Taile, and sorrowed
passing sore. And so my heart
bled for him, and I was moved
to comfort and stay him. Wherefore
I said:
"Forbear to
grieve, fair knight, for this
is not a defeat. We
have brains, you and I; and for
such as have brains there are
no defeats, but only victories.
Observe how we will turn this
seeming disaster into an advertisement;
an advertisement for our soap;
and the biggest one, to draw,
that was ever thought of; an
advertisement that will transform
that Mount Washington defeat
into a Matterhorn victory. We
will put on your bulletin-board,
'PATRONIZED BY THE ELECT.' How
does that strike you?"
"Verily, it
is wonderly bethought!"
"Well, a body
is bound to admit that for
just a modest little
one-line ad., it's a corker."
So the poor colporteur's griefs
vanished away. He was a brave
fellow, and had done mighty feats
of arms in his time. His chief
celebrity rested upon the events
of an excursion like this one
of mine, which he had once made
with a damsel named Maledisant,
who was as handy with her tongue
as was Sandy, though in a different
way, for her tongue churned forth
only railings and insult, whereas
Sandy's music was of a kindlier
sort. I knew his story well,
and so I knew how to interpret
the compassion that was in his
face when he bade me farewell.
He supposed I was having a bitter
hard time of it.
Sandy and I discussed his story,
as we rode along, and she said
that La Cote's bad luck had begun
with the very beginning of that
trip; for the king's fool had
overthrown him on the first day,
and in such cases it was customary
for the girl to desert to the
conqueror, but Maledisant didn't
do it; and also persisted afterward
in sticking to him, after all
his defeats. But, said I, suppose
the victor should decline to
accept his spoil? She said that
that wouldn't answer -- he must.
He couldn't decline; it wouldn't
be regular. I made a note of
that. If Sandy's music got to
be too burdensome, some time,
I would let a knight defeat me,
on the chance that she would
desert to him.
In due time we were challenged
by the warders, from the castle
walls, and after a parley admitted.
I have nothing pleasant to tell
about that visit. But it was
not a disappointment, for I knew
Mrs. le Fay by reputation, and
was not expecting anything pleasant.
She was held in awe by the whole
realm, for she had made everybody
believe she was a great sorceress.
All her ways were wicked, all
her instincts devilish. She was
loaded to the eyelids with cold
malice. All her history was black
with crime; and among her crimes
murder was common. I was most
curious to see her; as curious
as I could have been to see Satan.
To my surprise she was beautiful;
black thoughts had failed to
make her expression repulsive,
age had failed to wrinkle her
satin skin or mar its bloomy
freshness. She could have passed
for old Uriens' granddaughter,
she could have been mistaken
for sister to her own son.
As soon as we were fairly within
the castle gates we were ordered
into her presence. King Uriens
was there, a kind-faced old man
with a subdued look; and also
the son, Sir Uwaine le Blanchemains,
in whom I was, of course, interested
on account of the tradition that
he had once done battle with
thirty knights, and also on account
of his trip with Sir Gawaine
and Sir Marhaus, which Sandy
had been aging me with. But Morgan
was the main attraction, the
conspicuous personality here;
she was head chief of this household,
that was plain. She caused us
to be seated, and then she began,
with all manner of pretty graces
and graciousnesses, to ask me
questions. Dear me, it was like
a bird or a flute, or something,
talking. I felt persuaded that
this woman must have been misrepresented,
lied about. She trilled along,
and trilled along, and presently
a handsome young page, clothed
like the rainbow, and as easy
and undulatory of movement as
a wave, came with something on
a golden salver, and, kneeling
to present it to her, overdid
his graces and lost his balance,
and so fell lightly against her
knee. She slipped a dirk into
him in as matter-of-course a
way as another person would have
harpooned a rat!
Poor child!
he slumped to the floor, twisted
his silken limbs
in one great straining contortion
of pain, and was dead. Out of
the old king was wrung an involuntary "O-h!" of
compassion. The look he got,
made him cut it suddenly short
and not put any more hyphens
in it. Sir Uwaine, at a sign
from his mother, went to the
anteroom and called some servants,
and meanwhile madame went rippling
sweetly along with her talk.
I saw that she was a good housekeeper,
for while she talked she kept
a corner of her eye on the servants
to see that they made no balks
in handling the body and getting
it out; when they came with fresh
clean towels, she sent back for
the other kind; and when they
had finished wiping the floor
and were going, she indicated
a crimson fleck the size of a
tear which their duller eyes
had overlooked. It was plain
to me that La Cote Male Taile
had failed to see the mistress
of the house. Often, how louder
and clearer than any tongue,
does dumb circumstantial evidence
speak.
Morgan le Fay rippled along
as musically as ever. Marvelous
woman. And what a glance she
had: when it fell in reproof
upon those servants, they shrunk
and quailed as timid people do
when the lightning flashes out
of a cloud. I could have got
the habit myself. It was the
same with that poor old Brer
Uriens; he was always on the
ragged edge of apprehension;
she could not even turn toward
him but he winced.
In the midst of the talk I
let drop a complimentary word
about King Arthur, forgetting
for the moment how this woman
hated her brother. That one little
compliment was enough. She clouded
up like storm; she called for
her guards, and said:
"Hale me these
varlets to the dungeons."
That struck cold on my ears,
for her dungeons had a reputation.
Nothing occurred to me to say
-- or do. But not so with Sandy.
As the guard laid a hand upon
me, she piped up with the tranquilest
confidence, and said:
"God's wounds,
dost thou covet destruction,
thou maniac? It
is The Boss!"
Now what a happy idea that
was! -- and so simple; yet it
would never have occurred to
me. I was born modest; not all
over, but in spots; and this
was one of the spots.
The effect upon madame was
electrical. It cleared her countenance
and brought back her smiles and
all her persuasive graces and
blandishments; but nevertheless
she was not able to entirely
cover up with them the fact that
she was in a ghastly fright.
She said:
"La, but do
list to thine handmaid! as
if one gifted with powers
like to mine might say the thing
which I have said unto one who
has vanquished Merlin, and not
be jesting. By mine enchantments
I foresaw your coming, and by
them I knew you when you entered
here. I did but play this little
jest with hope to surprise you
into some display of your art,
as not doubting you would blast
the guards with occult fires,
consuming them to ashes on the
spot, a marvel much beyond mine
own ability, yet one which I
have long been childishly curious
to see."
The guards were less curious,
and got out as soon as they got
permission. |