Sword of Camelot (3 page)

Josh looked into those eyes, and for one moment a thrill of fear shot through him. It was as though the old man had x-ray vision, for Josh could feel himself somehow being searched. It was as if someone were going through his pockets! The gaze of this strange man seemed to inspect his very soul. But then the fear passed, and Josh nodded. “How do you do? What are you being thrown into prison for?”

A smile touched the lips of the old man, barely visible beneath his mustache. “Oh, I'm not a prisoner. My name is Elendar.”

Dave stared hard at the elderly man, who had strangely youthful features despite the silver hair and beard. “Are you come from the king?” he asked.

“Oh, indirectly, you might say that.” The man who called himself Elendar stood examining each one of them. “May I know your names?” he asked politely.

He received them quietly, seeming to understand more than the bare syllables. Finally he said quietly, “If I may sit down, perhaps we could have a talk.” He seemed not to be asking for permission, however, but seated himself at the table. “Now, I would like to hear a little more about you than just names.”

Jake stood up pugnaciously, planted his feet, and stared defiantly at their visitor. “I'm not sure,” he said loudly, “that we're ready to give our life history. We've been in this dungeon for three days begging for a chance to seethe king or one of his representatives, and suddenly you appear. Are you a representative of the king of Camelot?”

Once again a glint of humor gleamed in the pale blue eyes, but he shook his head. “Not directly.” He paused for one moment, then added, “I am the seer of King Dion's court.”

“A seer?” Wash asked. “Does that mean that you do magic and stuff like that?”

“Oh, I am capable of a few things that you might call illusions,” Elendar said, studying the small, young figure. “But I didn't come here to conjure up rabbits out of a hat. And you are right not to trust all strangers.”

“Elendar, can you get us to the king?” Jake demanded.

“I think that might be arranged—but it might be better if you tell me your story first.” He settled back in his chair and folded his hands quietly. “If you were brought directly before King Dion, you might find yourself in a great deal of difficulty. His Majesty is very suspicious of
strangers. If he were not satisfied that you were innocent, he might have you put to the rack in order to make you more talkative.”

“Well, that won't be necessary,” Josh said quickly. He had decided that this man was more than he seemed. “Let me explain …”

For fifteen minutes Josh sketched the history of the Seven Sleepers. He related also how they had encountered the Sanhedrin and Elmas, the Chief Interrogator, and had been used in the service of Goel since their arrival.

Elendar nodded. “Yes, Sir Gwin told me that you were the servants of Goel.” He hesitated, then said, “I, too, am one of his servants in a small way.”

“Then you do believe we are innocent of any wrong?” Dave asked quickly.

“Oh, yes, I knew that as soon as I looked into your faces.” He laughed aloud, a surprisingly youthful laugh. “I may not do magic, but I have grown quite adept at reading the faces of men and women. I knew at once that you were really not of Nuworld. And now I am certain of it.”

“When can we see the king?” Josh asked.

“In the morning. He will be here then.” He saw the look on Wash's face and smiled. “Oh, that's not magic or foretelling. I have been gone on a long journey myself, and as soon as I returned I was told of your capture. Then a messenger arrived saying that King Dion and the royal family will be back tomorrow morning.”

“What can you tell us about Camelot?” Dave asked. “We don't know anything except that there's some sort of trouble.”

Elendar studied the five young men, and there was pain in his eyes. “This has been a very happy, peaceful place, this Camelot. King Dion's father had trouble with his mind, perhaps—but when he built the kingdom, at
least he copied a fairly good model. For if you know the story of King Arthur, you remember that he valued honesty, courage, and purity.”

“We've read the stories,” Josh said, “but the place still looks a little fantastic. Is this really like those days when King Arthur ruled a kingdom?”

“Pretty much. We have all the trappings of that society. We have knights and ladies and, believe it or not, even something very close to what were called ‘dragons' in the old mythology—frightening beasts—some sort of mutant from the days after the Burning.”

Suddenly Elendar arose, went to the door, and knocked. Turning, he said, “Tomorrow, then, you will meet the king. Afterward I am sure we will have more time.”

The door opened, he left, it clanged shut.

Josh turned to the others and said with relief, “Well, I'm sure glad he's on our side!”

E
lendar was prompt to keep his promise. At eleven o'clock the next day he appeared in their cell, announcing, “The royal family is waiting to receive you.”

As Elendar led the boys out of their cell and turned right, Josh asked, “Have you talked to the king about us?”

“Yes. I have told him that you are to be trusted. However, the Sword of Camelot is a stubborn man and must make up his own mind.”

He took them through a maze of corridors and up two flights of steps to a door that was guarded by two husky soldiers in armor. Without speaking to them, Elendar motioned, and they stepped aside. He entered, and the group followed him.

Josh looked around curiously, having time only to note that it was not an ornate room. There was a large table in the middle, where four people were seated. Against one wall stood a large cabinet, and the high windows were draped with crimson draperies having the name “Camelot” embroidered on them.

“Sire, these are the servants of Goel.” Elendar called off their names.

And as he did, Josh studied the royal family.

The king was reaching old age. Like Elendar, he had silver hair, but his skin was wrinkled and his hands were not completely steady. He was tall and somewhat stooped, even at the table. However, he had a regal bearing that impressed Josh.

The queen—Queen Mauve—who sat beside him, was an attractive older woman with silver hair and brown eyes. She was younger than her husband apparently, and she watched them with interest.

Across from her sat two young people. The girl was introduced as Princess Elaine. She was, Josh thought, very beautiful, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Beside her, Prince Loren stared at them curiously. He had flaming red hair and dark blue eyes, and there was pride in his bearing.

“So, you claim to be the servants of Goel?” King Dion said in a strong voice. “But you have no evidence.”

“N-no, Your Majesty,” Josh stammered. “We had hoped to meet him here, and I'm sure he'll come eventually.”

King Dion looked Josh over carefully. “In ordinary times this might be sufficient. However, these are not normal days.”

Queen Mauve said, “I'm certain that they are who they say they are. They have honest faces.”

But Prince Loren shook his head, and there was arrogance in his voice as he said, “How do we know
who
they are? They might have been sent straight by our enemies. I say let them prove themselves!”

Princess Elaine glanced at her brother and started to speak but then seemed to change her mind.

It was her father who answered. “Very apt, my son! We will try these young people. They look well enough, but appearances can be deceiving. Let there be a trial by combat.”

Elendar protested, “But Your Majesty, these are not trained in our ways!”

“Then let them be so. The trial will take place in two days. You are free to leave. Stand not upon the order of your going.”

Elendar bowed, and the Sleepers, noting this, did the same. There was some problem getting out without turning their backs upon the royal family, which would have been ill manners. However, Elendar led them outside and back down the corridors.

“I have found better accommodations for you.” he said. “You don't have to go back to the dungeons.”

“Well, that's a relief,” Dave said. “I'm sick of that place.”

“You'll still be under guard,” Elendar warned. “Do not try to run away, for you would not get far.” He took them to a hall broken by several doors. “Here. This will do for you young ladies,” he said. “And this for you young men.”

“What is this trial by combat?” Jake asked as they entered their quarters. “I know a little bit about trials, but the ones I'm familiar with usually have a jury.”

Elendar shook his head. “I know not what is a jury. But in this country when there is a problem between two men, they fight. The winner is judged to be in the right.”

“What about the loser?” Jake demanded.

Elendar smiled frostily. “Very often, Jake, he is dead, so he cares very little about the outcome. If he is merely wounded, his property is confiscated.”

“But we don't know how to fight!” Wash piped up. “What chance would we have against armed knights?”

There was doubt in Elendar's eyes too. “That is the problem, Wash. But come inside, and we will talk. I am a very minor seer, but perhaps I can be of some help.”

* * *

“It doesn't look like we have much hope, does it?” Sarah said. She was sitting with Dave beside a wall, watching as Sir Nolen engaged in sword play with Reb.

The knight, who was rather small but very quick, fenced a blow that sent Reb's sword spinning. It caught the flashing light of the sun and fell to the ground, and Reb's face grew red with embarrassment.

“Well, what do they expect?” Dave complained. “These fellows have spent their whole lives practicing with swords and lances and such. Now, if they would just let us have long-range rifles or something like that…”

The two had been talking of what had occurred over the past forty-eight hours. Elendar had put them in the charge of Sir Nolen, telling him, “Find out which one would have the best chance, and with what weapon.”

Easily said! But it had not worked out exactly that way. Even now they could hear Sir Elbert's high voice complaining, “Can't you even hold onto your sword? What do they
teach
you back where you come from?”

They had all tried their hands, except the girls, of course—even poor Wash, who was no match even for one of the other Sleepers. Obviously either Josh, Dave, or Reb would have to fight. Jake and Wash were both too small.

Sarah got to her feet, and Dave followed. They walked over to where Reb was standing, glaring at Sir Nolen.

“Don't feel bad, Reb,” Dave said. “This just isn't your game.”

Sir Nolen had discarded most of his armor. He was clad only in a gray oveshirt, tight knit breeches, and short boots. “What
is
your game?” he demanded. He was almost in despair, for he was a friend of Elendar and had promised to come up with some answers.

The other Sleepers gathered around, and there was gloom in their faces.

Finally, Reb said, “It's pretty plain none of us are going to be able to match these fellows with a sword. It takes too long to learn. But I do have one idea.”

“What is it?” Josh asked wearily. “Anything you can think of is better than what we've got!”

Reb bit his lip and glanced over toward where two knights were jousting. “I don't know about those lances,” he said, “but I haven't seen anybody around here who can ride any better than I can.”

“Is that right?” Sir Nolen demanded quickly. “I haven't even tried you on a joust. That's harder than swordplay.”

“If its got something to do with a horse,” Reb said stubbornly, “I'll take my chances.”

Sir Nolen considered the tall young man and seemed to find something he liked in the light blue eyes. “All right, my boy. It looks like that's going to be our only hope. Come along, and we'll see how you do on a horse. You can use mine.”

Reb and the others followed the small, cocky knight to the part of the court where the horses were stabled. “That's him—his name is Blaze,” Nolen said proudly. “He's a bit of a handful.”

Reb grinned at him. ‘“Never was a horse couldn't be rode,'” he quoted. “Just let me have a try.”

Thirty minutes later Sir Nolen was whistling with amazement. “You are a fine rider, lad! I never saw better! Blaze doesn't take to everybody, but he likes you. I can see that. You've let him know who's the boss, and that's what counts with horses.”

“I can ride him all right, but what about the rest of it?” Reb said.

“Well, that's the rub. You seem to be a pretty strong lad. Let's try you on the lance.”

Soon Reb proved that he could put a lance tip through a six-inch ring, and again Sir Nolen was amazed. “Why, there's men that can't do that who've been jousting for years. Now, here's the important thing. You've got the
lance in your right hand. What do you do with your left hand?”

“Why, guide the horse,” Reb answered with surprise.

Sir Nolen laughed. “You hold a shield with it, boy! Otherwise, you'd get the other fellow's lance right through your gizzard. You steer the horse with your knees. Blaze is trained to do that. So now, let me give you this shield, and you try that.”

Reb was a little disconcerted but soon found that the sturdy horse obeyed instantly any command he gave with his knees. One slight pressure, and the horse turned.

“Of course, there's no need to turn,” Sir Nolen said. “You are headed straight along the fence. Your lance is pointed over it. You don't
want
your horse to turn.”

“Well, I think I can handle this part of it,” Reb said. But the thought of that lance coming straight at him troubled him. “How do I keep the other fellow from hitting me?”

“The helmet you will wear is made so that it will slip his lance if he goes for your head. There's nothing on it to catch. The trick is to shift your shield so that his lance goes off to the side. Then, with your own lance, go in over the top or side and catch him in the body. Come along. I'll mount up, and we'll run through it a few times.”

That sounded simple enough, but Reb soon found that it was more difficult than it seemed. Sir Nolen upped the pace until finally they were galloping at each other at what seemed to be a furious rate.

Each time Reb learned something, and finally Sir Nolen said, “Well, boy, we can run at each other all week, but now we'd better try it for real.”

He put on full armor and encased Reb in the same.

“Remember, catch the tip of my lance on your shield and try to catch me on the body.”

“I feel clumsy as a possum in this tin suit!” Reb complained.

“Aye, we all feel the same. But we'd be dead without it. Come now, let's try it for real.”

Reb guided his horse back to his end of the jousting field and turned him around.

Sir Nolen did the same.

Then Nolen shouted, “Go!”

Reb kicked Blaze into a gallop, and the two horses approached each other at break neck speed.

Reb knew he could not out-joust a man such as Sir Nolen, who had made jousting his life, but he had an idea. As they drew close, he suddenly tilted his spear up toward Sir Nolen's head. Sir Nolen was not expecting that and flinched, which pulled his shield to one side. At the moment Sir Nolen's lance struck Reb's shield and slipped aside, Reb's own lance drove into the body of the knight, and he heard a crash as Sir Nolen fell to the ground.

He could not stop Blaze immediately, but he heard a cheer from the sidelines. Whirling his horse around, he looked back anxiously, and threw down his lance. He stepped off his horse and clanked back to Sir Nolen, afraid that he was hurt.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Sir Nolen got to his feet awkwardly and shoved his visor back. Reb saw that he was grinning. “Yes, I'm all right. That was a neat trick, lad. That's exactly the one you'll use tomorrow against whatever champion the king appoints. Caught me off guard, it did, and it may work again.”

* * *

When the trumpet sounded the next day, Elendar came to stand be side Reb, who was again mounted on
Blaze. At the far end of the jousting field, a very large knight in black armor was waiting.

“He looks as big as a house,” Reb said. “I don't have much of a chance, do I, Elendar?”

Elendar's pale blue eyes seemed to glitter. “The battle is not always to the strong,” he whispered. “Goel would not have sent you here and put you in this place if there were no chance. Now I'm no jouster, but I know that courage is the essential ingredient. Every knight will tell you— the man who flinches is the man who loses.”

Reb looked over at the huge knight. The sun caught the tip of the man's lance as he held it high. He felt a moment of fear.

Elendar seemed to sense it. He slapped the boy's leg. “Never take counsel of your fears, my boy. Believe in Goel, and do not flinch. Will you do that?”

Reb swallowed hard and looked over to where his friends were gathered next to the royal family. A huge crowd had assembled, and now all the flags and pennants were flapping in the breeze.

He knew he had but a small chance of victory. The champion was a fierce warrior, Sir Hector, who had slain many men in battle and was the champion of the joust. The king had said, “If you can survive Sir Hector, I will believe that you are who you say.”

Reb fought down the dark fear that rose in him, and suddenly a wave of hope came. He could not explain it. It did not have anything to do with the circumstances. He was almost certain to lose. Still, a strange sense of assurance welled up within. He looked down at Elendar. “You're right. I think I can do it, Elendar. He may spit me like a chicken for a bar be cue, but he'll have to kill me to do it !”

“Good, lad! Now—” Elendar raised his hand and let it fall, and the herald by the king suddenly blew a blast on his trumpet.

Instantly Reb put his heels to Blaze and narrowed his attention to the black knight.

The rest of the world seemed blotted out for Reb. He ignored the bright colors—the reds, the blues, the greens of the ladies' dresses. He ignored the shouts that came from the on lookers. All he saw was a black shield and the visor of Sir Hector as the huge knight lowered his lance.

The two rushed toward each other, and all sounds too seemed to fade. Yet there was a clear voice that came not into his ear but into his heart.
Do not be afraid, Dob Lee, for you will not fail!

Reb would never know whose that voice was, but it sounded much like the voice of Goel.

And then he was in front of the great knight. The gleaming lance tip came straight at him. He lifted his shield and at the same time pointed his own lance at the head of the black knight.