Sword of Camelot

by Gilbert L. Morris

  “You usually do, Master Jake.” Sir Gwin nodded. He seemed to have grown rather fond of the seven and had remarked that he would gladly have placed them in better quarters— except that he could not go against the king's law. “Say on, then.”

  Jake nodded and answered in a high, clear voice. “Sir Gwin, I'd planned to be a lawyer back in the old days. That's what my father was. He saw to it that people who were falsely accused got free from the law—and that's what I intend to do right now!”

  “Very good.” Sir Gwin nodded again. “Proceed.”

  Jake stared at him, taken a little aback. “I am proceeding,” he said. “I'm telling you that we are not going to stay in this filthy cell any longer. I'm not going to put up with it!”

  “It isn't exactly filthy,” Gwin protested mildly. “We have it cleaned every morning, give you fresh water, food. As far as dungeons go, I could show you some that would make you cry to come back to this one.”

  “Be that as it may,” Jake argued stubbornly, “I demand to see whoever is in charge of this whole castle.”

  Sir Gwin's wide mouth turned up in a grin. “His name is Melwitz, and you wouldn't like him at all. He's one of the senior counselors to King Dion, and I can guarantee that, if he knew you were here, he'd have you boiling over a slow fire.”

  Josh said hurriedly, “I don't think we want to go over your head, Sir Gwin. We'll just wait until the king returns.” He whispered, “Now shut up, Jake, before you get us in real trouble!”

  Sir Gwin shook his head regretfully. “I sent word to the king as soon as we brought you here, but he is sometimes difficult to find on these trips of his. He goes around from castle to castle, talking to different noblemen. Says he wants to keep his eye on the country and his finger on the pulse of what's going on, especially in these times.”

  “Can't you tell us a little about what is going on? Goel told us there was trouble,” Josh said, “but he didn't say what.”

  Sir Gwin he sitated. “I'm not allowed to talk about such things— not until the king gives his permission. Nevertheless, I do have some good news for you. I'm arranging for you to have a little more outdoor exercise. I know these cells have got ten tire some. Come along now.”

  The boys glanced at each other and scrambled to get through the door on the heels of Sir Gwin. He led them down a long passage way, then stepped outside, allowing hem to follow. “There are your friends, the young ladies,” he said. Even as he spoke, Josh looked across the yard and saw Abbey and Sarah standing beside three knights.

  When they saw the boys, they came running.

  Abbey's eyes were somewhat frightened, and she clung to Josh saying, “Oh, Josh, how much longer do we have to stay here?”

  But Sarah said, “Don't be silly, Abbey! If it were up to Josh, we'd be out today.” Then she smiled at him and asked, “Are you all right?”

  Josh nodded. “Sure, it hasn't been bad. Just the idea of being in another dungeon doesn't appeal to me.”

  Sir Gwin was interested in Josh's choice of words. “Another dungeon?” he asked. “Do you young people make a habit of being thrown into dungeons?”

  Josh shrugged. “When you serve Goel, it goes with the territory, I guess.”

  Sir Gwin bit his lip and stood looking at the group. “Well, for my own part I believe you—but it will be the king who will have to say. Come now—let me show you around part of Camelot at least.”

  “What are those fellows doing?” Reb asked when they had made their way to a large open area, some what like a football field.

  He was looking toward several men on horseback who were in full armor and seemed to be practicing the same game that they had seen through the window of their cell.

  “Why, they're practicing their tilting,” Sir Gwin said. “Don't you know what that means?”

  “Does it mean when they try to knock each other off their horses with them sticks?” Reb demanded.

  “Well, that's not a very graceful way of putting it—but it's about what it amounts to. Don't they have such things where you come from?”

  Josh said quickly, “I think we've all seen a little of it. But it's only on TV”

  “TV?” Sir Gwin asked in a puzzled tone. “What is TV?”

  Josh suddenly realized that in this culture they had no idea of television. “Just something we used to do. But tell us about the tiltings. We know the knights run at each other on horses and try to knock each other off. Do they get hurt?”

  “Hurt! They get killed sometimes,” Sir Gwin said in surprise. “Look. Sir Elbert and Sir Nolen—they are getting ready to have a try at it right now.”

  He motioned to where two men in armor were sitting on their horses facing each other and separated by a fence no more than three feet high.

  “The fence is to keep the horses from running into each other,” Sir Gwin explained. “See, they have to tilt their lances over the fence and try to knock their opponent off.”

  “Well, I hope whoever's fighting Sir Elbert knocks him all the way over the other side of the mountain!” Dave said bitterly.

  “Sir Elbert is not pleasant.” Sir Gwin shrugged. “But he's been unhappy in love. He was jilted by his sweet heart a couple of years ago, and he's still angry about it.”

  “He doesn't have to take it out on us!” Jake complained. “Look—they're starting!”

  The Sleepers watched the scene with fascination. The two horses lunged forward, carrying the men toward each other. Each man held his lance pointed to his left, in front of a shield that he carried on his left arm to try to catch the opponent's lance. The knights came together with a clash, and Sir Elbert's opponent went sailing off the back of his horse. He fell to the ground with a clatter and rolled over several times.

  “Is he dead?” Abbey gasped.

  “Dead? Not a bit of it,” Sir Gwin said cheerfully. “He just got knocked off his horse. See, he's getting up.”

  Reb had been watching the process with interest. “That's a mighty fine game,” he said. “I wouldn't mind trying that myself someday.”

  Sir Gwin looked at him with approval. “If we don't cut your head off, I'll see to it that you get a chance to learn a little about the manly art of tilting. I think you might be good at it.”

  Then he took them through other parts of the castle, and they saw firsthand some further activities of the knights: practicing with the broadsword, fencing with lighter swords, and a great deal of horsemanship.

  Finally, after an hour, Sir Gwin led them back to their cells. Abbey and Sarah were taken to their own room, and, as the five young men entered theirs, the door slammed behind them. For some time they said little, all of them deep in thought about what they had seen.

  Supper came, which proved to be surprisingly good. Josh suspected that Sir Gwin had given orders to improve the menu. They sat around lingering over the meal, all of them looking depressed.

  Finally Josh heard the sound of approaching foot-steps. Then the bolt rattled in the heavy door, and it swung slowly open.

  The man who entered looked like no one Josh had ever seen before. He was no more than medium height. He kept himself so straight, however, that he gave the impression of being taller. He was not young, nor even middle-aged, for his hair was silver-white, as was the short beard that covered the lower part of his face. He wore a simple garment, a gray outer cloak made of what appeared to be cotton or wool, and around his waist was a belt with a large buckle bearing a strange device. The cowl was thrown back from his head, exposing a pair of intense, pale blue eyes.

  Josh looked into those eyes, and for one moment a thrill of fear shot through him. It was as though the old man had x-ray vision, for Josh could feel himself somehow being searched. It was as if someone were going through his pockets! The gaze of this strange man seemed to inspect his very soul. But then the fear passed, and Josh nodded. “How do you do? What are you being thrown into prison for?”

  A smile touched the lips of the old man, barely visible beneath his mustache. �
�Oh, I'm not a prisoner. My name is Elendar.”

  Dave stared hard at the elderly man, who had strangely youthful features despite the silver hair and beard. “Are you come from the king?” he asked.

  “Oh, indirectly, you might say that.” The man who called himself Elendar stood examining each one of them. “May I know your names?” he asked politely.

  He received them quietly, seeming to understand more than the bare syllables. Finally he said quietly, “If I may sit down, perhaps we could have a talk.” He seemed not to be asking for permission, however, but seated himself at the table. “Now, I would like to hear a little more about you than just names.”

  Jake stood up pugnaciously, planted his feet, and stared defiantly at their visitor. “I'm not sure,” he said loudly, “that we're ready to give our life history. We've been in this dungeon for three days begging for a chance to seethe king or one of his representatives, and suddenly you appear. Are you a representative of the king of Camelot?”

  Once again a glint of humor gleamed in the pale blue eyes, but he shook his head. “Not directly.” He paused for one moment, then added, “I am the seer of King Dion's court.”

  “A seer?” Wash asked. “Does that mean that you do magic and stuff like that?”

  “Oh, I am capable of a few things that you might call illusions,” Elendar said, studying the small, young figure. “But I didn't come here to conjure up rabbits out of a hat. And you are right not to trust all strangers.”

  “Elendar, can you get us to the king?” Jake demanded.

  “I think that might be arranged—but it might be better if you tell me your story first.” He settled back in his chair and folded his hands quietly. “If you were brought directly before King Dion, you might find yourself in a great deal of difficulty. His Majesty is very suspicious of strangers. If he were not satisfied that you were innocent, he might have you put to the rack in order to make you more talkative.”

  “Well, that won't be necessary,” Josh said quickly. He had decided that this man was more than he seemed. “Let me explain …”

  For fifteen minutes Josh sketched the history of the Seven Sleepers. He related also how they had encountered the Sanhedrin and Elmas, the Chief Interrogator, and had been used in the service of Goel since their arrival.

  Elendar nodded. “Yes, Sir Gwin told me that you were the servants of Goel.” He hesitated, then said, “I, too, am one of his servants in a small way.”

  “Then you do believe we are innocent of any wrong?” Dave asked quickly.

  “Oh, yes, I knew that as soon as I looked into your faces.” He laughed aloud, a surprisingly youthful laugh. “I may not do magic, but I have grown quite adept at reading the faces of men and women. I knew at once that you were really not of Nuworld. And now I am certain of it.”

  “When can we see the king?” Josh asked.

  “In the morning. He will be here then.” He saw the look on Wash's face and smiled. “Oh, that's not magic or foretelling. I have been gone on a long journey myself, and as soon as I returned I was told of your capture. Then a messenger arrived saying that King Dion and the royal family will be back tomorrow morning.”

  “What can you tell us about Camelot?” Dave asked. “We don't know anything except that there's some sort of trouble.”

  Elendar studied the five young men, and there was pain in his eyes. “This has been a very happy, peaceful place, this Camelot. King Dion's father had trouble with his mind, perhaps—but when he built the kingdom, at least he copied a fairly good model. For if you know the story of King Arthur, you remember that he valued honesty, courage, and purity.”

  “We've read the stories,” Josh said, “but the place still looks a little fantastic. Is this really like those days when King Arthur ruled a kingdom?”

  “Pretty much. We have all the trappings of that society. We have knights and ladies and, believe it or not, even something very close to what were called ‘dragons’ in the old mythology—frightening beasts—some sort of mutant from the days after the Burning.”

  Suddenly Elendar arose, went to the door, and knocked. Turning, he said, “Tomorrow, then, you will meet the king. Afterward I am sure we will have more time.”

  The door opened, he left, it clanged shut.

  Josh turned to the others and said with relief, “Well, I'm sure glad he's on our side!”

  4

  Trial by Combat

  Elendar was prompt to keep his promise. At eleven o'clock the next day he appeared in their cell, announcing, “The royal family is waiting to receive you.”

  As Elendar led the boys out of their cell and turned right, Josh asked, “Have you talked to the king about us?”

  “Yes. I have told him that you are to be trusted. However, the Sword of Camelot is a stubborn man and must make up his own mind.”

  He took them through a maze of corridors and up two flights of steps to a door that was guarded by two husky soldiers in armor. Without speaking to them, Elendar motioned, and they stepped aside. He entered, and the group followed him.

  Josh looked around curiously, having time only to note that it was not an ornate room. There was a large table in the middle, where four people were seated. Against one wall stood a large cabinet, and the high windows were draped with crimson draperies having the name “Camelot” embroidered on them.

  “Sire, these are the servants of Goel.” Elendar called off their names.

  And as he did, Josh studied the royal family.

  The king was reaching old age. Like Elendar, he had silver hair, but his skin was wrinkled and his hands were not completely steady. He was tall and somewhat stooped, even at the table. However, he had a regal bearing that impressed Josh.

  The queen—Queen Mauve—who sat beside him, was an attractive older woman with silver hair and brown eyes. She was younger than her husband apparently, and she watched them with interest.

  Across from her sat two young people. The girl was introduced as Princess Elaine. She was, Josh thought, very beautiful, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Beside her, Prince Loren stared at them curiously. He had flaming red hair and dark blue eyes, and there was pride in his bearing.

  “So, you claim to be the servants of Goel?” King Dion said in a strong voice. “But you have no evidence.”

  “N-no, Your Majesty,” Josh stammered. “We had hoped to meet him here, and I'm sure he'll come eventually.”

  King Dion looked Josh over carefully. “In ordinary times this might be sufficient. However, these are not normal days.”

  Queen Mauve said, “I'm certain that they are who they say they are. They have honest faces.”

  But Prince Loren shook his head, and there was arrogance in his voice as he said, “How do we know who they are? They might have been sent straight by our enemies. I say let them prove themselves!”

  Princess Elaine glanced at her brother and started to speak but then seemed to change her mind.

  It was her father who answered. “Very apt, my son! We will try these young people. They look well enough, but appearances can be deceiving. Let there be a trial by combat.”

  Elendar protested, “But Your Majesty, these are not trained in our ways!”

  “Then let them be so. The trial will take place in two days. You are free to leave. Stand not upon the order of your going.”

  Elendar bowed, and the Sleepers, noting this, did the same. There was some problem getting out without turning their backs upon the royal family, which would have been ill manners. However, Elendar led them outside and back down the corridors.

  “I have found better accommodations for you.” he said. “You don't have to go back to the dungeons.”

  “Well, that's a relief,” Dave said. “I'm sick of that place.”

  “You'll still be under guard,” Elendar warned. “Do not try to run away, for you would not get far.” He took them to a hall broken by several doors. “Here. This will do for you young ladies,” he said. “And this for you young men.”

 
“What is this trial by combat?” Jake asked as they entered their quarters. “I know a little bit about trials, but the ones I'm familiar with usually have a jury.”

  Elendar shook his head. “I know not what is a jury. But in this country when there is a problem between two men, they fight. The winner is judged to be in the right.”

  “What about the loser?” Jake demanded.

  Elendar smiled frostily. “Very often, Jake, he is dead, so he cares very little about the outcome. If he is merely wounded, his property is confiscated.”

  “But we don't know how to fight!” Wash piped up. “What chance would we have against armed knights?”

  There was doubt in Elendar's eyes too. “That is the problem, Wash. But come inside, and we will talk. I am a very minor seer, but perhaps I can be of some help.”

  * * *

  “It doesn't look like we have much hope, does it?” Sarah said. She was sitting with Dave beside a wall, watching as Sir Nolen engaged in sword play with Reb.

  The knight, who was rather small but very quick, fenced a blow that sent Reb's sword spinning. It caught the flashing light of the sun and fell to the ground, and Reb's face grew red with embarrassment.

  “Well, what do they expect?” Dave complained. “These fellows have spent their whole lives practicing with swords and lances and such. Now, if they would just let us have long-range rifles or something like that…”

  The two had been talking of what had occurred over the past forty-eight hours. Elendar had put them in the charge of Sir Nolen, telling him, “Find out which one would have the best chance, and with what weapon.”

  Easily said! But it had not worked out exactly that way. Even now they could hear Sir Elbert's high voice complaining, “Can't you even hold onto your sword? What do they teach you back where you come from?”