New Jersey Yankee In King Arthur's Court

by P McAuley, Robert

  “Ha! Pray yell, where be this Keansburg? Never hath I heard of such a place, nor of thou.”

  “Then yee be the first ta hear o’ me but not the last for mine plan is ta end thy rein.”

  The knight squinted as he stared at Arty and Arty thought, He needs glasses! But, there are no glasses yet. “Will thou be known as the knight who wouldst turn from a challenge?”

  “Ha! Turn away from thou? And pray tell, where be thine armor?”

  Arty walked back and forth, “Leave thy horse and fight me where I stand.”

  “Leave my horse? On what account wouldst I leave my horse?”

  “On account of, if thou doth not, thou shall be forever known as Sir Coward.”

  “Zounds! This be unholy!” He looked down at Arty and said, “For thine blasphemy, I shall deal yee with a mortal blow. Ask not for mercy, dolt.” He dismounted and stood stiffly with his sword still drawn.

  “Thou chooses ta fight me in thine armor? Be thou the coward thou looks ta be?”

  “What wouldst thou have me do, dolt? Strip off mine armor?”

  “Yes! Then we will have a fair fight else thou be nothin’ but a coward.”

  “But,” said the knight clearly upset, “This is how we deal with louts such as thee.”

  “So,” egged Arty as he kept walking back and forth making the knight keep on moving in order to keep Arty in front of him, “If I be such a lout why not meet me on even terms? Keep thy sword and fight me without armor. See,” he said showing him his bare hands, “I have no weapon.”

  The man was beside himself and looked about not sure what to do.

  Arty, sensing the man’s problem, said, “Kennith, wouldst thou be so kind as to help sir knight out of his armor so he can give me a thrashing?”

  “Sire,” the boy answered, “if it be thine wish . . .”

  The man roared, “If it be his wish? Boy, thou art mine and I demand that thou help me remove my armor. Straight away, boy!”

  Arty smiled to himself as the man was stripped of his armor and finally stood before him holding his sword with both hands. He was better built than the other knights Arty faced and seemed lighter on his feet.

  “Prepare to meet thy maker, lout.” He started to walk around to Arty’s left-hand side. Arty took out a cigarette and lit it. The knight stopped in his tracks as smoke left Arty’s mouth in a stream. “Thou…thou dost be the devil himself. Sir Grogan said yee were him.”

  Arty took two steps forward and said, “Fool! Think yee that I need a weapon for the likes of thou? Drop thine sword and run lest I smite thee and place thy soul in Hades this very day.”

  The man quivered and Arty, seeing his chance, threw his cigarette at him. The knight dropped his sword as he dodged the smoking butt and Arty ran at him. He head-butted the man in his stomach and was surprised as the man quickly recovered and grabbed him by the shoulders and kneed him in his stomach. Arty fell and rolled as the man tried to kick him. He sprang to his feet and they squared off. Arty faked a rush and the man dropped in a squat before coming up. He suddenly had a small dagger in his hand and said with a grin, “Prepare to die, lout!”

  He stepped forward and Arty took a slice across his arm before catching him with a right cross to his chin. The man dropped and this time he didn’t get up.

  Arty stood panting over him, blood running down his arm. The man started to get up when Jennie and three girls ran out and smacked him a few times with long, wooden staffs.

  “Wenches! Stop I demand. Know thine place in life.”

  Jennie walked over and pushed the dagger she picked up against his throat. His face showed fear as he said, “Woman! Know thee that mine dagger be sharp?”

  “Oh, I know that it’s sharp, butt-wipe! And let me tell yee this. Should yee ever come back this way I’ll turn yee into a purse with this very dagger. Got it?” The man didn’t answer he just nodded. “Oh,” she said continuing, “don’t forget to tell all your friends that you were beaten by a knight who didn’t need a weapon to best yee.”

  “Also,” added Arty, “don’t forget ta tell all your friends that a woman turned your own dagger on you. Now get out of here, shemp.”

  The man stood and walked to his armor. “Kennith, help me dress.”

  “No,” said the boy. “For thine armor and horse belong ta Sir Arthur now.”

  The man turned and said to Arty, “Tell this peasant ta help me dress and get up on mine horse. Thou besting me be ours alone and mine armor be not part of the battle.”

  “Wrong again, dude. The armor now belongs to Kennith, and until he can fit into it, the armor belongs to the pretty lady who bested yee.”

  He turned the man around and kicked him in his butt as he said, “Get outta here, butt-head. Go an’ join Sir Groggy.” The crowd roared their approval as he hobbled down the road he came from.

  Jennie went and wrapped her long skirt around his wound. Next she put some salve on it that one of the girls had supplied. Arty called a meeting for everyone to attend after the noon-meal.

  Everyone was sitting in a circle around Arty, except for Bruno who was watching the road. It seemed that even the birds hushed to hear what Arty had to say as he walked around the small clearing the circle of boys and girls provided. He stopped and looked out at them.

  “Thanks for showing up, gang. We needed this sit-down to get some things straight here.” He watched as he saw what Jennie had predicted would happen: Some kids understood him while others didn’t. Knowing that, Arty took his time as the ones who understood him, interpreted his meaning to the others.

  “If everyone here understands that we are one, and that we need to stick together as one, we will be unbeatable! Our motto is, ‘In unity there is strength.’” He looked around and saw the meaning sinking in with the group.

  “This morning when Kennith was attacked, I saw many of you just standing there watching. You watched as one of our own was in trouble! This will never happen again, I promise you. I realize that you all have been told what to do your entire lives and never really had to think for yourselves, but now things have changed, and they changed for the better. I really believe that we are on a quest and we must stick together.” He stopped and raised his arms as he said, remember, ‘One for all and all for one.’”

  The crowd roared its approval as Jennie walked over to Arty and whispered, “Hey Arty, ‘One for all and all for one’ is from the Three Musketeers.”

  Arty shrugged and said, “So what? If Merryl is right and we’re back in time, it’ll be us saying all the good stuff first. Who’s gonna stop us?”

  She smiled and they walked back to their tent as the sounds of the kids going about their tasks started up again.

  That evening the original Keansburg gang sat with Arty and they performed ‘spoken-word-Rap’. All was peaceful as the others in camp played their instruments and sang the songs they grew up with.

  “Hey, Arty.” called Garret. “What’s up? You seem far away tonight dude?”

  Arty shook his head, “I don’t know. I just have this feeling that all of this might change real fast. I mean, what if instead of one or two knights coming along, there are ten or twenty? Man, that’d put a damper on this gig real fast.”

  “Well,” said Percy as he dropped a chicken bone onto his wooden plate and wiped his greasy hands in the long grass, “I guess we got to fight them.”

  “Man,” answered Gerry, “That’s a tall order even for us, dude.”

  Delvlin chimed in with, “Yeah. Maybe we should make some kind of weapons?”

  “We got weapons,” said Lucas.”

  “Not enough,” put in Garth as he pushed back his long blond hair.

  “Hey,” said Arty real slow as he wagged a finger, “What if we did make some weapons?”

  “Ya mean like, guns?” asked Triston.

  “Naw,” chimed Arty as he shook his head. “We don’t have gun powder and stuff. I mean like modern day stuff. Ah, I mean like our day stuff.” He looked at Garret and said,
“Hey Garret. Weren’t you into science and stuff?”

  “Uh huh,” answered Garret as he shook his head yes. “But we don’t have any chemicals and stuff here.”

  “Listen, why don’t you catch up with me in the morning and we can brainstorm. Okay?”

  “Sure Arty. I’ll see ya right after breakf, ah, I mean morning-meal.”

  The crowd started to break up when Jennie said to Arty, “Okay, Arthur, it’s time for me to change your bandage.”

  “And,” he whispered, “maybe get to check out the lipstick flavor of the day?” He ducked her attempt to hit him with a dishcloth.

  The sun was also going down as James and Merlin warmed up some of the chicken and bread rolls they brought along with them. They sipped the cider Harold gave them and talked long into the night as Merlin tried to explain to the young boy that ‘Abbra-Ka-Dabra’ really meant nothing at all.

  The sun was high and morning-meal was finished as Garret came up the hill to Arty’s tent. He watched as Arty pranced around on top of his white horse, Dragon. “Hey Arty,” he called out as he approached, “You got pretty good at riding.”

  “Yeah, I’m getting’ the hang of it,” he brazenly tried to do a quick dismount and ended up on the ground with one foot stuck in a stirrup. “Of course, at times I still fall off this huge animal.”

  Ron ran to his side and helped him up as he told him what he did wrong.

  “I know, I know,” said Arty rubbing his shoulder as he spotted Jennie watching. “I didn’t do it on purpose, Jennie. And I hope you remember that, if I need a shoulder rub later.” Her smile told Arty that she believed him.

  Garret asked, “Arty, you still want to learn some science stuff?”

  “Me? Learn science stuff?” Arty shook his head and went on, “No way, dude. I wanted to tap your mind. That’s all.”

  A sudden shout echoed through the camp, “Horse and riders coming!”

  Arty grabbed his jacket and joined the others running down the hill to be able to see the road. “Which way?” he asked one of Ron’s crew who was doing lookout duty up a tree.

  “That way, sire. There be two riden’ one horse.”

  Arty and the group hid in the trees and bushes off the road. The two came down the road from the opposite direction that the traffic usually came from. A big grin came across Arty’s face as he shouted, “It’s Merryl! Hey guys, it’s all right I know him.”

  Hearing the shouting, James started to turn the horse around when Merlin said, “Fear not, James. They be my friends an’ the shouts be shouts of joy!”

  Very soon smiling boys and girls, all asking questions at the same time, surrounded Merlin and James.

  Holding up his hands, Merlin said, “Please! Please! One at a time, but first,” he said patting the boy on his head, “This be James an’ I be proud ta say James be my apprentice! What think yee of that?”

  “James,” said Jennie making the boy feel at ease as she helped him down off the horse, “I be Jennie an’ a good friend of Merryl.”

  “Uh,” said Merlin, “It’s Merlin and I’ll explain later. But first I simply must bathe and change. I also need the young ladies who made this fine garment for me as I have a few alterations I need made.”

  Arty slapped Merlin on his back, “Merlin! Man, it’s great to see you again. I got so much to talk to ya about.”

  “And I, you, Arthur,” said Merlin as they walked up the hill to Arty’s tent.

  Two hours later Arty sat with a refreshed Merlin now attired in his clean work clothes, his hair wet and tied back. They both were eating roast pork and drinking cider as Jennie oversaw James as he tried on new, clean clothes.

  “So,” asked Arty, “where is this sword in a stone?”

  “Therein lies the problem, Arthur. It must be fabricated.”

  “Fabricated? You mean like, made?”

  “Yes, made,” said Merlin. “As I said earlier, some memories seem to take their time coming back to me and I suddenly remembered the fable of the sword in the stone. It turns out that none other than Merlin the Magician brought the stone to the church in London for all to try their luck at removing the sword!”

  Arty asked, “But, does that means that we have to build one here?”

  Merlin nodded. “Yes, but after seeing those boys use their hands, I have no doubt that if they follow my directions we can build it.”

  “Build it and they will come,” said Arty as he shrugged his shoulders. “Merlin, it’s just like they said in that movie, ‘Build it and they will come.’ So what if they do come and one of them removes the sword from the stone and not me?”

  “That’s not supposed to happen, Arthur.”

  “Who says?” asked Arty with open hands. “I mean if there really was a King Arthur and he took the sword from out of the stone, why do you think I should do it? Why not just wait until this other Arthur guy comes along and pulls it out?”

  “And,” said Merlin, “What if there is no other ‘Arthur guy’? What if somehow it was destined for us all to come back here and become King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table?”

  “But, how could that be? I mean, if that Arthur dude lived and you read about him, how could he be me? I mean I was born years after he lived . . . and died, too, I might add.”

  Merlin stood and said as he shook his head, “Arty, I don’t pretend to know all the answers, but I do know this: Since I’ve become Merlin the Magician, I’ve started thinking differently. I seem to know some things before they happen.” He suddenly stopped and pointed at Arty as he said, “Now, I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say that there are those who have a theory that all of mankind has a sixth-sense which we stopped using years ago as times got better, and maybe being sent back here has awakened it in me.”

  “I was gonna say that?” asked a perplexed Arty.

  Merlin grinned as he answered, “Well, maybe something along those lines. But the point is: If I’m changing into the storybook Merlin the Magician, perhaps we all are changing in order to fulfill what history said happened all those years ago.”

  Arty scratched his bandaged arm as he said, “Well like you said, all of our names seem to fit the history-book characters.”

  “So, Arthur, as I said, it truly is London of five-hundred and sixty. And if we go along with this theory of Arthur removing the sword from the stone, you will become king, and we will have some big fights with others who do not accept you as king.”

  “Big fights? Man, Merlin, we can’t fight these guys on their terms.”

  “I know, Arthur and I must admit that I am perplexed about this.”

  Arty chewed the inside of his cheek as he said, “Hey Merlin, this is kinda funny because I was just talking to Garret about using science as a sort of weapon. Isn’t that weird?”

  A knowing smile came across Merlin’s lined face as he said, “Weird? Or perhaps you too are changing? Perhaps you are becoming the wiseman that history says King Arthur was?”

  “Me? A wiseman?” Arty laughed, “Dude! I don’t think so.”

  “We shall see, Arthur. We shall see. Now I need to get some of the stonemasons together for a conference.”

  They went down the hill to the various groups.

  Merlin sat in his tent with Arty, Ron, Jennie and six boys aged from thirteen to seventeen whose training had been in iron working. He leaned on a small, three-legged table and drew on a sheet of yellowed, parchment paper using a long, feathered quill pen, which he dipped in a jar of ink. There was a sword lying on the desk and the boys sat and looked at the diagram as he explained.

  “Boys, what I’d like is to have you attach a nipple as close as possible to the sword’s hilt.” He drew the sword and pointed to the spot he wanted to receive the nipple.

  “Wizard Merlin,” asked Edward, one of the iron workers, “What be a nipple?”

  “Ahh, think of it as a pimple. Canst that be done?”

  “Aye,” said the boy, “we wouldst need ta build a furnace.”


  “But,” answered a second boy, “Not a large furnace an’ that be in me training, so it shall be done, wizard.”

  “Now,” said Merlin, “here be the tough part. We need a stone ta stick the sword in.”

  “But,” asked Edward, “it cannot be done, wizard. Fer the sword wouldst break before the stone opens ta allow it ta enter.”

  “What I’m hoping for, boys,” said Merlin, “is that we find a large stone that has a deep crack or hole in it already. A stone with an opening that we can place the sword in all the way down to the hilt.”

  The boys all looked at each other as Edward said, “That could be done, great wizard an’ we can chisel the hole ta accept the sword.”

  “Next,” continued Merlin pointing to a sketch of a stone with a cut-away view showing the deep hole for the sword, “we notch a hole at the top of the stone that allows the nipple or pimple to stick into.”

  “But,” asked the smallest boy, “wouldst not the pimple in the notch stop the sword from being removed, my wizard?”

  “Exactly!” said Merlin. “Can this be done?”

  “Easily,” said Edward, “it be finding the stone that we needest luck. But,” he continued, “we shall show these plans ta the groups an’ they shall all search fer thine stone, great Wizard Merlin.”

  “Then,” said a happy Merlin as he spread his arms wide, “we are set.”

  “Sire,” asked Edward, “when doth thou needest all completed?”

  “Oh, say, five days?”

  He nodded. “Yee shall have it, Wizard Merlin.”

  As they walked back to their tent, Merlin handed Arty some seeds. “Arty, place these on top of your head for a second.”

  Arty looked at the seeds, “Put them on my head? What for?”

  “Just do it and I’ll show you.”

  Arty shrugged his shoulders and placed the few seeds on top of his head as Merlin walked about twenty feet away. The magician turned and faced him. With a smile he said, “Abbra-Ka-Dabra,” and threw his arms up in the air. Suddenly out of nowhere a gray dove flew from the wizard straight towards Arty’s head. The bird landed on his head and ate the seeds then flew off and out of sight.