Chương Chương 16 · MORGAN LE FAY

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 door-bell--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 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 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.