Chapter XXXIX: The Yankee's Fight with the Knights

by Mark Twain

　　Home again, at Camelot. A morning or two laterI found the paper, damp from the press, by myplate at the breakfast table. I turned to the advertising columns, knowing I should find something ofpersonal interest to me there. It was this:DE PAR LE ROI.Know that the great lord and illus trious Knight, SIR SAGRAMOR LEDESIROUS naving condescended tomeet the King's Minister, Hank Morgan,the which is surnamed The Boss,for satisfgction of offence anciently given,these wilL engage in the lists byCamelot about the fourth hour of themorning of the sixteenth day of thisnext succeeding month. The battlewill be a l outrance, sith the said offencewas of a deadly sort, admitting of nocomPosition.DE PAR LE ROIClarence's editorial reference to this affair was to thiseffect:It will be observed, by a gl7nce at ouradvertising columns, that the commu nity is to be favored with a treat of un usual interest in the tournament line.The n ames of the artists are warrant ofgood enterTemment. The box-officewill be open at noon of the 13th; ad mission 3 cents, reserved seatsh 5; pro ceeds to go to the hospital fund Theroyal pair and all the Court will be pres ent. With these exceptions, and thepress and the clergy, the free list is strict ly susPended. Parties are hereby warn ed against buying tickets of speculators;they will not be good at the door.Everybody knows and likes The Boss,everybody knows and likes Sir Sag.;come, let us give the lads a good send off. ReMember, the proceeds go to agreat and free charity, and one whosebroad begevolence stretches out its help ing hand, warm with the blood of a lov ing heart, to all that suffer, regardless ofrace, creed, condition or color--theonly charity yet established in the earthwhich has no politico-religious stop cock on its compassion, but says Hereflows the stream, let all come anddrink! Turn out, all hands! fetch alongyour dou3hnuts and your gum-dropsand have a good time. Pie for sale onthe grounds, and rocks to crack it with;and ciRcus-lemonade--three drops oflime juice to a barrel of water.N.B. This is the first tournamentunder the new law, whidh allow eachcombatant to use any weapon he may pre fer. You may want to make a note of that.Up to the day set, there was no talk in all Britain ofanything but this combat. All other topics sank intoinsignificance and passed out of men's thoughts andinterest. It was not because a tournament was a greatmatter, it was not because Sir Sagramor had foundthe Holy Grail, for he had not, but had failed; it wasnot because the second (official) personage in the kingdom was one of the duellists; no, all these featureswere commonplace. Yet there was abundant reasonfor the extraordinary interest which this coming fightwas creating. It was born of the fact that all thenation knew that this was not to be a duel betweenmere men, so to speak, but a duel between two mightymagicians; a duel not of muscle but of mind, not ofhuman skill but of superhuman art and craft; a finalstruggle for supremacy between the two master enchanters of the age. It was realized that the mostprodigious achievements of the most renowned knightscould not be worthy of comparison with a spectaclelike this; they could be but child's play, contrastedwith this mysterious and awful battle of the gods.Yes, all the world knew it was going to be in reality aduel between Merlin and me, a measuring of his magicpowers against mine. It was known that Merlin hadbeen busy whole days and nights together, imbuing SirSagramor's arms and armor with supernal powers ofoffense and defense, and that he had procured for himfrom the spirits of the air a fleecy veil which wouldrender the wearer invisible to his antagonist whilestill visible to other men. Against Sir Sagramor, soweaponed and protected, a thousand knights couldaccomplish nothing; against him no known enchantments could prevail. These facts were sure; regarding them there was no doubt, no reason for doubt.There was but one question: might there be still otherenchantments, unknown to Merlin, which could renderSir Sagramor's veil transparent to me, and make hisenchanted mail vulnerable to my weapons? This wasthe one thing to be decided in the lists. Until thenthe world must remain in suspense.So the world thought there was a vast matter at stakehere, and the world was right, but it was not the onethey had in their minds. No, a far vaster one wasupon the cast of this die: The Life of Knight-Errantry.I was a champion, it was true, but not the championof the frivolous black arts, I was the champion of hardunsentimental common-sense and reason. I was entering the lists to either destroy knight-errantry or be itsvictim.Vast as the show-grounds were, there were no vacantspaces in them outside of the lists, at ten o'clock onthe morning of the 16th. The mammoth grand-standwas clothed in flags, streamers, and rich tapestries, andpacked with several acres of small-fry tributary kings,their suites, and the British aristocracy; with our ownroyal gang in the chief place, and each and everyindividual a flashing prism of gaudy silks and velvets --well, I never saw anything to begin with it but a fightbetween an Upper Mississippi sunset and the auroraborealis. The huge camp of beflagged and gaycolored tents at one end of the lists, with a stiffstanding sentinel at every door and a shining shieldhanging by him for challenge, was another fine sight.You see, every knight was there who had any ambitionor any caste feeling; for my feeling toward their orderwas not much of a secret, and so here was theirchance. If I won my fight with Sir Sagramor, otherswould have the right to call me out as long as I mightbe willing to respond.Down at our end there were but two tents; one forme, and another for my servants. At the appointedhour the king made a sign, and the heralds, in theirtabards, appeared and made proclamation, naming thecombatants and stating the cause of quarrel. Therewas a pause, then a ringing bugle-blast, which was thesignal for us to come forth. All the multitude caughttheir breath, and an eager curiosity flashed into everyface.Out from his tent rode great Sir Sagramor, an imposing tower of iron, stately and rigid, his huge spearstanding upright in its socket and grasped in his stronghand, his grand horse's face and breast cased in steel,his body clothed in rich trappings that almost draggedthe ground -- oh, a most noble picture. A great shoutwent up, of welcome and admiration.And then out I came. But I didn't get any shout.There was a wondering and eloquent silence for a moment, then a great wave of laughter began to sweepalong that human sea, but a warning bugle-blast cut itscareer short. I was in the simplest and comfortablestof gymnast costumes -- flesh-colored tights from neckto heel, with blue silk puffings about my loins, andbareheaded. My horse was not above medium size,but he was alert, slender-limbed, muscled with watchsprings, and just a greyhound to go. He was a beauty,glossy as silk, and naked as he was when he was born,except for bridle and ranger-saddle.The iron tower and the gorgeous bedquilt camecumbrously but gracefully pirouetting down the lists,and we tripped lightly up to meet them. We halted;the tower saluted, I responded; then we wheeled androde side by side to the grand-stand and faced our kingand queen, to whom we made obeisance. The queenexclaimed:"Alack, Sir Boss, wilt fight naked, and withoutlance or sword or --"But the king checked her and made her understand,with a polite phrase or two, that this was none of herbusiness. The bugles rang again; and we separatedand rode to the ends of the lists, and took position.Now old Merlin stepped into view and cast a daintyweb of gossamer threads over Sir Sagramor whichturned him into Hamlet's ghost; the king made asign, the bugles blew, Sir Sagramor laid his greatlance in rest, and the next moment here he camethundering down the course with his veil flying outbehind, and I went whistling through the air like anarrow to meet him -- cocking my ear the while, as ifnoting the invisible knight's position and progress byhearing, not sight. A chorus of encouraging shoutsburst out for him, and one brave voice flung out aheartening word for me -- said:"Go it, slim Jim!"It was an even bet that Clarence had procured thatfavor for me -- and furnished the language, too. Whenthat formidable lance-point was within a yard and ahalf of my breast I twitched my horse aside without aneffort, and the big knight swept by, scoring a blank.I got plenty of applause that time. We turned,braced up, and down we came again. Another blankfor the knight, a roar of applause for me. This samething was repeated once more; and it fetched such awhirlwind of applause that Sir Sagramor lost histemper, and at once changed his tactics and set himself the task of chasing me down. Why, he hadn'tany show in the world at that; it was a game of tag,with all the advantage on my side; I whirled out ofhis path with ease whenever I chose, and once Islapped him on the back as I went to the rear. FinallyI took the chase into my own hands; and after that,turn, or twist, or do what he would, he was never ableto get behind me again; he found himself always infront at the end of his maneuver. So he gave up thatbusiness and retired to his end of the lists. His temperwas clear gone now, and he forgot himself and flungan insult at me which disposed of mine. I slipped mylasso from the horn of my saddle, and grasped the coilin my right hand. This time you should have seenhim come! -- it was a business trip, sure; by his gaitthere was blood in his eye. I was sitting my horse atease, and swinging the great loop of my lasso in widecircles about my head; the moment he was under way,I started for him; when the space between us hadnarrowed to forty feet, I sent the snaky spirals of therope a-cleaving through the air, then darted aside andfaced about and brought my trained animal to a haltwith all his feet braced under him for a surge. Thenext moment the rope sprang taut and yanked SirSagramor out of the saddle! Great Scott, but therewas a sensation!Unquestionably, the popular thing in this world isnovelty. These people had never seen anything ofthat cowboy business before, and it carried them clearoff their feet with delight. From all around and everywhere, the shout went up:"Encore! encore!"I wondered where they got the word, but there wasno time to cipher on philological matters, because thewhole knight-errantry hive was just humming now, andmy prospect for trade couldn't have been better. Themoment my lasso was released and Sir Sagramor hadbeen assisted to his tent, I hauled in the slack, tookmy station and began to swing my loop around myhead again. I was sure to have use for it as soon asthey could elect a successor for Sir Sagramor, andthat couldn't take long where there were so manyhungry candidates. Indeed, they elected one straightoff -- Sir Hervis de Revel.BZZ! Here he came, like a house afire; I dodged:he passed like a flash, with my horse-hair coils settlingaround his neck; a second or so later, fst! his saddlewas empty.I got another encore; and another, and another, andstill another. When I had snaked five men out, thingsbegan to look serious to the ironclads, and theystopped and consulted together. As a result, they decided that it was time to waive etiquette and send theirgreatest and best against me. To the astonishment ofthat little world, I lassoed Sir Lamorak de Galis, andafter him Sir Galahad. So you see there was simplynothing to be done now, but play their right bower --bring out the superbest of the superb, the mightiest ofthe mighty, the great Sir Launcelot himself!A proud moment for me? I should think so.Yonder was Arthur, King of Britain; yonder wasGuenever; yes, and whole tribes of little provincialkings and kinglets; and in the tented camp yonder,renowned knights from many lands; and likewise theselectest body known to chivalry, the Knights of theTable Round, the most illustrious in Christendom; andbiggest fact of all, the very sun of their shining systemwas yonder couching his lance, the focal point of fortythousand adoring eyes; and all by myself, here was Ilaying for him. Across my mind flitted the dearimage of a certain hello-girl of West Hartford, and Iwished she could see me now. In that moment, downcame the Invincible, with the rush of a whirlwind --the courtly world rose to its feet and bent forward --the fateful coils went circling through the air, andbefore you could wink I was towing Sir Launcelotacross the field on his back, and kissing my hand tothe storm of waving kerchiefs and the thunder-crash ofapplause that greeted me!Said I to myself, as I coiled my lariat and hung it onmy saddle-horn, and sat there drunk with glory, "Thevictory is perfect -- no other will venture against me --knight-errantry is dead." Now imagine my astonishment -- and everybody else's, too -- to hear the peculiarbugle-call which announces that another competitor isabout to enter the lists! There was a mystery here; Icouldn't account for this thing. Next, I noticed Merlin gliding away from me; and then I noticed that mylasso was gone! The old sleight-of-hand expert hadstolen it, sure, and slipped it under his robe.The bugle blew again. I looked, and down cameSagramor riding again, with his dust brushed off andis veil nicely re-arranged. I trotted up to meet him,and pretended to find him by the sound of his horse'shoofs. He said:"Thou'rt quick of ear, but it will not save thee fromthis!" and he touched the hilt of his great sword ."An ye are not able to see it, because of the influenceof the veil, know that it is no cumbrous lance, but asword -- and I ween ye will not be able to avoid it."His visor was up; there was death in his smile. Ishould never be able to dodge his sword, that wasplain. Somebody was going to die this time. If hegot the drop on me, I could name the corpse. Werode forward together, and saluted the royalties. Thistime the king was disturbed. He said:"Where is thy strange weapon?""It is stolen, sire.""Hast another at hand?""No, sire, I brought only the one."Then Merlin mixed in:"He brought but the one because there was but theone to bring. There exists none other but that one.It belongeth to the king of the Demons of the Sea.This man is a pretender, and ignorant, else he hadknown that that weapon can be used in but eightbouts only, and then it vanisheth away to its homeunder the sea.""Then is he weaponless," said the king. "SirSagramore, ye will grant him leave to borrow.""And I will lend!" said Sir Launcelot, limpingup. "He is as brave a knight of his hands as anythat be on live, and he shall have mine."He put his hand on his sword to draw it, but SirSagramor said:"Stay, it may not be. He shall fight with his ownweapons; it was his privilege to choose them and bringthem. If he has erred, on his head be it.""Knight!" said the king. "Thou'rt overwroughtwith passion; it disorders thy mind. Wouldst kill anaked man?""An he do it, he shall answer it to me," said SirLauncelot."I will answer it to any he that desireth!" retortedSir Sagramor hotly.Merlin broke in, rubbing his hands and smiling hislowdownest smile of malicious gratification:"'Tis well said, right well said! And 'tis enoughof parleying, let my lord the king deliver the battlesignal."The king had to yield. The bugle made proclamation, and we turned apart and rode to our stations.There we stood, a hundred yards apart, facing eachother, rigid and motionless, like horsed statues. Andso we remained, in a soundless hush, as much as a fullminute, everybody gazing, nobody stirring. It seemedas if the king could not take heart to give the signal.But at last he lifted his hand, the clear note of thebugle followed, Sir Sagramor's long blade described aflashing curve in the air, and it was superb to see himcome. I sat still. On he came. I did not move.People got so excited that they shouted to me:"Fly, fly! Save thyself! This is murther!"I never budged so much as an inch till that thunderng apparition had got within fifteen paces of me; thenI snatched a dragoon revolver out of my holster, therewas a flash and a roar, and the revolver was back inthe holster before anybody could tell what had happened.Here was a riderless horse plunging by, and yonderlay Sir Sagramor, stone dead.The people that ran to him were stricken dumb tofind that the life was actually gone out of the man andno reason for it visible, no hurt upon his body, nothinglike a wound. There was a hole through the breast ofhis chain-mail, but they attached no importance to alittle thing like that; and as a bullet wound there produces but little blood, none came in sight because ofthe clothing and swaddlings under the armor. Thebody was dragged over to let the king and the swellslook down upon it. They were stupefied with astonishment naturally. I was requested to come and explain the miracle. But I remained in my tracks, likea statue, and said:"If it is a command, I will come, but my lord theking knows that I am where the laws of combat requireme to remain while any desire to come against me."I waited. Nobody challenged. Then I said:"If there are any who doubt that this field is welland fairly won, I do not wait for them to challengeme, I challenge them.""It is a gallant offer," said the king, "and well beseems you. Whom will you name first?""I name none, I challenge all! Here I stand, anddare the chivalry of England to come against me -- notby individuals, but in mass!""What!" shouted a score of knights."You have heard the challenge. Take it, or I proclaim you recreant knights and vanquished, everyone!"It was a "bluff" you know. At such a time it issound judgment to put on a bold face and play yourhand for a hundred times what it is worth; forty-ninetimes out of fifty nobody dares to "call," and yourake in the chips. But just this once -- well, thingslooked squally! In just no time, five hundred knightswere scrambling into their saddles, and before youcould wink a widely scattering drove were under wayand clattering down upon me. I snatched both revolvers from the holsters and began to measure distancesand calculate chances.Bang! One saddle empty. Bang! another one.Bang -- bang, and I bagged two. Well, it was nip andtuck with us, and I knew it. If I spent the eleventhshot without convincing these people, the twelfth manwould kill me, sure. And so I never did feel so happyas I did when my ninth downed its man and I detectedthe wavering in the crowd which is premonitory ofpanic. An instant lost now could knock out my lastchance. But I didn't lose it. I raised both revolversand pointed them -- the halted host stood their groundjust about one good square moment, then broke andfled.The day was mine. Knight-errantry was a doomedinstitution. The march of civilization was begun.How did I feel? Ah, you never could imagine it.And Brer Merlin? His stock was flat again. Somehow, every time the magic of fol-de-rol tried conclusions with the magic of science, the magic of fol-de-rolgot left.