A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, Mark Twain [little readers .TXT] 📗
- Author: Mark Twain
Book online «A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, Mark Twain [little readers .TXT] 📗». Author Mark Twain
“No? What is that?”
“War correspondence!”
“Why, that’s good.”
“Yes, the paper was booming right along, for the Interdict made no impression, got no grip, while the war lasted. I had war correspondents with both armies. I will finish that battle by reading you what one of the boys says:
‘Then the king looked about him, and then was he
ware of all his host and of all his good knights
were left no more on live but two knights, that
was Sir Lucan de Butlere, and his brother Sir
Bedivere: and they were full sore wounded. Jesu
mercy, said the king, where are all my noble
knights becomen? Alas that ever I should see this
doleful day. For now, said Arthur, I am come to
mine end. But would to God that I wist where were
that traitor Sir Mordred, that hath caused all
this mischief. Then was King Arthur ware where Sir
Mordred leaned upon his sword among a great heap
of dead men. Now give me my spear, said Arthur
unto Sir Lucan, for yonder I have espied the
traitor that all this woe hath wrought. Sir, let
him be, said Sir Lucan, for he is unhappy; and if
ye pass this unhappy day, ye shall be right well
revenged upon him. Good lord, remember ye of your
night’s dream, and what the spirit of Sir Gawaine
told you this night, yet God of his great goodness
hath preserved you hitherto. Therefore, for God’s
sake, my lord, leave off by this. For blessed be
God ye have won the field: for here we be three
on live, and with Sir Mordred is none on live.
And if ye leave off now, this wicked day of
destiny is past. Tide me death, betide me life,
saith the king, now I see him yonder alone, he
shall never escape mine hands, for at a better
avail shall I never have him. God speed you well,
said Sir Bedivere. Then the king gat his spear
in both his hands, and ran toward Sir Mordred
crying, Traitor, now is thy death day come. And
when Sir Mordred heard Sir Arthur, he ran until
him with his sword drawn in his hand. And then
King Arthur smote Sir Mordred under the shield,
with a foin of his spear throughout the body more
than a fathom. And when Sir Mordred felt that he
had his death’s wound, he thrust himself, with
the might that he had, up to the butt of King
Arthur’s spear. And right so he smote his father
Arthur with his sword holden in both his hands,
on the side of the head, that the sword pierced
the helmet and the brain-pan, and therewithal
Sir Mordred fell stark dead to the earth. And
the noble Arthur fell in a swoon to the earth,
and there he swooned oft-times—‘”
“That is a good piece of war correspondence, Clarence; you are a first-rate newspaper man. Well—is the king all right? Did he get well?”
“Poor soul, no. He is dead.”
I was utterly stunned; it had not seemed to me that any wound could be mortal to him.
“And the queen, Clarence?”
“She is a nun, in Almesbury.”
“What changes! and in such a short while. It is inconceivable. What next, I wonder?”
“I can tell you what next.”
“Well?”
“Stake our lives and stand by them!”
“What do you mean by that?”
“The Church is master now. The Interdict included you with Mordred; it is not to be removed while you remain alive. The clans are gathering. The Church has gathered all the knights that are left alive, and as soon as you are discovered we shall have business on our hands.”
“Stuff! With our deadly scientific war-material; with our hosts of trained—”
“Save your breath—we haven’t sixty faithful left!”
“What are you saying? Our schools, our colleges, our vast workshops, our—”
“When those knights come, those establishments will empty themselves and go over to the enemy. Did you think you had educated the superstition out of those people?”
“I certainly did think it.”
“Well, then, you may unthink it. They stood every strain easily—until the Interdict. Since then, they merely put on a bold outside—at heart they are quaking. Make up your mind to it—when the armies come, the mask will fall.”
“It’s hard news. We are lost. They will turn our own science against us.”
“No they won’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I and a handful of the faithful have blocked that game. I’ll tell you what I’ve done, and what moved me to it. Smart as you are, the Church was smarter. It was the Church that sent you cruising—through her servants, the doctors.”
“Clarence!”
“It is the truth. I know it. Every officer of your ship was the Church’s picked servant, and so was every man of the crew.”
“Oh, come!”
“It is just as I tell you. I did not find out these things at once, but I found them out finally. Did you send me verbal information, by the commander of the ship, to the effect that upon his return to you, with supplies, you were going to leave Cadiz—”
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