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Mark
Twain - A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court
Chapter 16
MORGAN LE FAY
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 ninety-seven 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
We were challenged by the warders, and after parley admitted 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
King Uriens 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.
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