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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/30963-8.txt b/30963-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..830219a --- /dev/null +++ b/30963-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2542 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Knyght Ther Was, by Robert F. Young + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Knyght Ther Was + +Author: Robert F. Young + +Illustrator: Leo Summers + +Release Date: January 14, 2010 [EBook #30963] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A KNYGHT THER WAS *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction July 1963. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. + + + A Knyght Ther Was + + + _But the Knyght was a little less than Perfect, and his + horse did not have a metabolism, and his "castle" was much + more mobile--timewise!--than it had any business being!_ + + + by Robert F. Young + + + _Illustrated by Leo Summers_ + + + _A Knyght ther was, and that a worthy man, + That fro the tyme that he first bigan + To ryden out, he loved chivalrye, + Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisye_ + + --THE CANTERBURY TALES + + * * * * * + + + + +I + +Mallory, who among other things was a time-thief, re-materialized the +time-space boat _Yore_ in the eastern section of a secluded valley in +ancient Britain and typed CASTLE, EARLY SIXTH-CENTURY on the +lumillusion panel. Then he stepped over to the control-room telewindow +and studied the three-dimensional screen. The hour was 8:00 p.m.; the +season, summer; the Year 542 A.D. + +Darkness was on hand, but there was a full moon rising and he could +see trees not far away--oaks and beeches, mostly. Roving the eye of +the camera, he saw more trees of the same species. The "castle of +Yore" was safely ensconced in a forest. Satisfied, he turned away. + +If his calculations were correct, the castle of Carbonek stood in the +next valley to the south, and on a silver table in a chamber of the +castle stood the object of his quest. + +_If_ his calculations were correct. + +Mallory was not one to keep himself in suspense. Stepping into the +supply room, he stripped down to his undergarments and proceeded to +get into the custom-built suit of armor which he had purchased +expressly for the operation. Fortunately, while duplication of early +sixth-century design had been mandatory, there had been no need to +duplicate early sixth-century materials, and sollerets, spurs, +greaves, cuisses, breastplate, pauldrons, gorget, arm-coverings, +gauntlets, helmet, and chain-mail vest had all been fashioned of +light-weight alloys that lent ten times as much protection at ten +times less poundage. The helmet was his particular pride and joy: in +keeping with the period-piece after which it had been patterned, it +looked like an upside-down metal wastepaper basket, but the one-way +transparency of the special alloy that had gone into its construction +gave him unrestricted vision, while two inbuilt audio-amplifiers +performed a corresponding service for his hearing. + +The outer surface of each piece had been burnished to a high degree, +and he found himself a dazzling sight indeed when he looked into the +supply-room mirror. This effect was enhanced no end when he buckled on +his chrome-plated scabbard and red-hilted sword and hung his +snow-white shield around his neck. His polished spear, when he stood +it beside him, was almost anticlimactic. It shouldn't have been. It +was a good three and one-half inches in diameter at the base, and it +was as tall as a young flagpole. + +As he stood there looking at his reflection, the red cross in the +center of the shield took on the hue of freshly-shed blood. The +period-piece expert who had designed the shield had insisted on the +illusion, saying that it made for greater authenticity, and Mallory +hadn't argued with him. He was glad now that he hadn't. Raising the +visor of his helmet, he winked at himself and said, "I hereby christen +ye 'Sir Galahad'." + +Next, he bethought himself of his steed. Armor clanking, he left the +supply room and walked down the short passage to the rec-hall. The +rec-hall occupied the entire forward section of the TSB and had been +designed solely for the benefit of the time-tourists whom Mallory +regularly conducted on past-tours as a cover-up for the illegal +activities which he pursued in between trips. In the present instance, +however, the hall went quite well with the _Yore's_ lumillusioned +exterior, possessing, with its gallery-like mezzanine, its long snack +table, and its imitation flagstone flooring, an early sixth-century +aspect of its own--an aspect marred only slightly by the +"anachronistic" telewindows inset at regular intervals along the +walls. + +Mallory's steed stood in a stall-like enclosure that was formed by the +tourist-bar and one of the walls, and it was a splendid "beast" +indeed--as splendid a one as the twenty-second century robotics +industry was capable of creating. Originally, Mallory had planned on +bringing a real horse with him, but as this would have necessitated +his having to learn how to ride, he had decided against it. The +decision had been a wise one: "Easy Money" looked more like a horse +than most real horses did, could travel twice as fast, and was as easy +to ride and to maneuver as a golp jetney. It was light-brown in color +with a white diamond on its forehead, it was equipped with a secret +croup-compartment and an inbuilt saddle, and its fetlock-length +trappings were made of genuine synthisilk threaded with gold. It wore +no armor--it did not need to: weapons manufactured during the Age of +Chivalry could no more penetrate its "hide" than a tooth pick could. + +_Come on, Easy Money_, Mallory encephalopathed. _You and I have a +little job to do._ + +The rohorse emitted several realistic whinnies, backed out of its +"stall", trotted smartly over to his side, and nuzzled his right +pauldron. Mallory mounted--not gracefully, it is true, but at least +without the aid of the winch he would have needed if his armor had +been manufactured in the sixth century--and inserted the red pommel of +his spear in the stirrup socket. Then, activating the _Yore's_ lock, +he rode across the imaginary drawbridge that spanned the mirage-moat, +and set forth into the forest. As the "portcullis" closed behind him, +symbolically bringing phase one of Operation Sangraal to a close, he +thought of Jason Perfidion. + + * * * * * + +Standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall fireplace in +the big balconied room, Perfidion said, "Mallory, you're wasting your +time. Worse, you're wasting mine." + +The room climaxed a vertical series of slightly less sumptuous +chambers known collectively as the Perfidion Tower, and the Perfidion +Tower stood with a score of balconied brothers on a blacktop island in +the exact center of Kansas' largest golp course. A short distance from +the fraternal gathering stood yet another tower--the false tower into +which Mallory had lumillusioned his TSB upon his arrival. On the Golp +Terrace, as the blacktop island was called, everyone and everything +conformed--or else. + +The room itself was known to time-thieves as "Perfidion's Lair". And yet +there was nothing about Jason Perfidion--nothing physical, that is--that +suggested the predator. He was Mallory's age--thirty-three--tall, dark of +hair, and strikingly handsome. He looked like--and was--a highly +successful businessman with a triplex on Get-Rich-Quick Street, and he +gave the impression that he was as honest as the day was long. Just the +same, the predator was there, and if you were alert enough you could +sometimes glimpse it peering out through the smoky windowpanes of his +eyes. + +It wasn't peering out now, though. It was sleeping. However, it was +due to wake up any second. "Then you're not interested in fencing the +Holy Grail?" Mallory asked. + +Annoyance intensified the slight swarthiness of Perfidion's cheeks. +"Mallory, you know as well as I do that the Grail never really +existed, that it was nothing more than the mead-inspired daydream of a +bunch of quixotic knights. So go and get your hair cut and forget +about it." + +"But suppose it _did_ exist," Mallory insisted. "Suppose, tomorrow +afternoon at this time, I were to come in here and set it down on this +desk here? How much could you get for it?" + +Perfidion laughed. "How much _couldn't_ I get for it! Why, without +even stopping to think I can name you a dozen collectors who'd give +their right arm for it." + +"I'm not interested in right arms," Mallory said. "I'm interested in +dollars. How many Kennedees could you get for it?" + +"A megamillion--maybe more. More than enough, certainly, to permit you +to retire from time-lifting and to take up residence on Get-Rich-Quick +Street. But it doesn't exist, and it never did, so get out of here, +Mallory, and stop squandering my valuable time." + +Mallory withdrew a small stereophoto from his breast pocket and +tossed it on the desk. "Have a look at that first--then I'll go," he +said. + +Perfidion picked up the photo. "An ordinary enough yellow bowl," he +began, and stopped. Suddenly he gasped, and jabbed one of the many +buttons that patterned his desktop. Seconds later, a svelte blonde +whom Mallory had never seen before stepped out of the lift tube. Like +most general-purpose secretaries, she wore a maximum of makeup and a +minimum of clothing, and moved in an aura of efficiency and sex. "Get +me my photo-projector, Miss Tyler," Perfidion said. + +When she returned with it, he set it on his desk and inserted the +stereophoto. Instantly, a huge cube materialized in the center of the +room. Inside the cube there was a realistic image of a resplendent +silver table, and upon the image of the table stood an equally +realistic image of a resplendent golden bowl. Perfidion gasped again. + +"Unusual workmanship, wouldn't you say?" Mallory said. + +Perfidion turned toward the blonde. "You may go, Miss Tyler." + +She was staring at the contents of the cube and apparently did not +hear him. "I said," he repeated, "that you may go, Miss Tyler." + +"Oh. Yes ... yes sir." + + * * * * * + +When the lift-tube door closed behind her, Perfidion turned to +Mallory. For a fraction of a second the predator was visible behind +the smoky windowpanes of his eyes; then, quickly, it ducked out of +sight. "Where was this taken, Tom?" + +"It's a distance-shot," Mallory said. "I took it through one of the +windows of the church Joseph of Arimathea built in Glastonbury." + +"But how did you know--" + +"That it was there? Because it _had_ to be there. Some time ago, while +escorting a group of tourists around ancient Britain, I happened to +witness Joseph of Arimathea's landing--and happened to catch a glimpse +of what he brought with him. I used to think that the Grail was a pipe +dream, too, but when I saw it with my own eyes, I knew that it +couldn't have been. However, I knew I'd need evidence to convince you, +so I jumped back to a later place-time and got a shot of it." + +"But why a shot, Tom? Why didn't you lift it then and there?" + +"You concede that it is the Grail then?" + +"Of course it's the Grail--there's not the slightest question about +it. Why didn't you lift it?" + +"Well, for one thing, I wanted to make sure that lifting it would be +worth my while, and for another, Glastonbury wasn't the logical +place-time from which to lift it, because, assuming that the rest of +the legend is also true, it was seen after that place-time. No +time-thief ever bucked destiny yet and came out the winner, Jason; I +play my percentages." + +"I know you do, Tom. You're one of the best time-lift men in the +business, and the Past Police would be the first to admit it.... I +daresay you've already pinpointed the key place-time?" + +Mallory grinned, showing his white teeth. "I certainly have, but if +you think I'm going to divulge it, you're sadly mistaken, Jason. And +stop looking at my hair--it won't tell you anything beyond the fact +that I've been using Hair-haste. Shoulder-length hair was the rage in +more eras than one." + +Perfidion smiled warmly, and clapped Mallory on the back. "I'm not +trying to ferret out your secret, Tom. I know better than that. +Lifting is your line, fencing mine. You bring me the Grail, I'll sell +it, take my cut, and everything will be fine. You know me, Tom." + +"I sure do," Mallory said, taking the stereophoto out of the projector +and returning it to his breast pocket. + +Perfidion snapped his fingers. "A happy thought just occurred to me! +I've got a golp date with Rowley of Puriproducts, so why don't you +join us, Tom? You play a pretty good game, as I recall." + +Mollified, Mallory said, "I'll have to borrow a set of your +jetsticks." + +"I'll get them for you on the way down. Come on, Tom." + +Mallory accompanied him across the room. "Keep mum about this to +Rowley now," Perfidion said confidentially. "He's a potential +customer, but we don't want to let the cat out of the bag yet, do we? +Or should I say 'the Grail'." He took time out to grin at his little +joke, then, "By the way, Tom, I take it you're all set as regards +costume, equipment and the like." + +"I've got the sweetest little suit of armor you ever laid eyes on," +Mallory said. + +"Fine--no need for me to offer any advice in that respect then." +Perfidion opened the lift door. "After you, Tom." + +They plummeted down the tube together. + + * * * * * + +It had been a good game of golp--from Mallory's standpoint, anyway. He +had trounced Rowley roundly, and he would have inflicted similar +ignominy upon Perfidion had not the latter been called away in the +middle of the game and been unable to return till it was nearly over. +Oh well, Mallory thought, encephalo-guiding his rohorse through the +ancient forest, there'll be other chances. Aloud, he said, "Step +lively now, Easy Money, and let's get this caper over with so we can +return to civilization and start feeling what it's like to be rich." + +In response to the encephalo-waves that had accompanied his words, +Easy Money increased its pace, the infra-red rays of its eye units +illumining its way. In places, light from the rising moon seeped +through the foliage, but otherwise darkness was the rule. The air was +cool and damp--the sea was not far distant--and the sound of frogs and +insects was omnipresent and now and then there was the rustling sound +of some small and fleeing forest creature. + +Presently the ground began to rise, and not long afterward the trees +thinned out temporarily and rohorse and rider emerged on the moonlit +crest of the ridge that separated the two valleys. In the distance +Mallory made out the moon-gilt towers and turrets of a large castle, +and knew it to be Carbonek beyond a doubt. He sighed with relief. He +was all set now--provided his masquerade went over. Conversely, if it +didn't go over he was finished: his sword and his spear were his only +weapons, and his shield and his armor, his only protection. True, each +article was superior in quality and durability to its corresponding +article in the Age of Chivalry, but otherwise none of them was +anything more than what it seemed. Mallory might be a time-thief; but +within the framework of his profession he believed in playing fair. + +In response to his encephalopathed directions, Easy Money picked its +way down the slope of the ridge and re-entered the forest. Not long +afterward it stepped onto what was euphemistically referred to in that +day and age as a "highway" but which in reality was little more than a +wide, hoof-trampled lane. As Mallory's entire plan of action was based +on boldness, he spurned the shadows of the bordering oaks and beeches +and encephalopathed the rohorse to keep to the center of the lane. He +met no one, however, despite the earliness of the hour, nor had he +really expected to. It was highly improbable that any freemen would be +abroad after dark, and as for the knight-errants who happened to be in +the neighborhood, it was highly improbable that any of them would be +abroad after dark either. + +He grinned. To read _Le Morte d'Arthur,_ you'd think that the chivalry +boys had been in business twenty-four hours a day, slaying ogres, +rescuing fair damosels, and searching for the Sangraal; but not if you +read between the lines. Mallory had read "Arthur" only cursorily, but +he had had a hunch all along that in the majority of cases the quest +for the Sangraal had served as an out, and that the knights of the +Table Round had spent more time wenching and wassailing than they had +conducting their so-called dedicated search, and the hunch had played +an important role in the shaping of his strategy. + +The highway turned this way and that, never pursuing a straight course +unless such a logical procedure was unavoidable. Once, he thought he +heard hoofbeats up ahead, but he met no one, and not long afterward he +saw the pale pile of Carbonek looming above the trees to his left, and +encephalo-guided Easy Money into the lane that led to the entrance. +There was no moat, but the portcullis was an imposing one. Flanking it +on either side was a huge stone lion, and framing it were flaming +torches in regularly-spaced niches. Warders in hauberk and helmet +looked down from the lofty wall, their halberds gleaming in the +dancing torchlight. Mallory swallowed: the moment of truth had +arrived. + +He halted Easy Money and canted his white shield so that the red +cross in its center would be visible from above. Then he marshalled +his smattering of Old English. "I hight Sir Galahad of the Table +Round," he called out in as bold a voice as he could muster. "I would +rest my eyes upon the Sangraal." + + * * * * * + +Instantly, confusion reigned upon the wall as the warders vied with +one another for the privilege of operating the cumbersome windlass +that raised and lowered the portcullis, and presently, to the +accompaniment of a chorus of creaks and groans and scrapings, the +ponderous iron grating began to rise. Mallory forced himself to wait +until it had risen to a height befitting a knight of Sir Galahad's +caliber, then he rode through the gateway and into the courtyard, +congratulating himself on the effectiveness of his impersonation. + +"Ye will come unto the chamber of the Sangraal sixty paces down the +corridor to thy left eftsoon ye enter the chief fortress, sir knight," +one of the warders called down. "An ye had arrived a little while +afore, ye had encountered Sir Launcelot du Lake, the which did come +unto the fortress and enter in, wherefrom he came out anon and +departed." + +Mallory would have wiped his forehead if his forehead had been +accessible and if his hands had not been encased in metal gloves. +Fooling the warders was one thing, but passing himself off as Sir +Galahad to the man who was Sir Galahad's father would have been quite +another. He had learned from the pages of his near-namesake's "Arthur" +that Sir Launcelot had visited Carbonek before Sir Galahad had, but +the pages had not revealed whether the time-lapse had involved +minutes, hours, or years, and for that matter, Mallory wasn't +altogether certain whether the second visit they described had been +the real Sir Galahad's, which meant failure, or a romanticized version +of his own, which meant success. His near-namesake was murky at best, +and reading him you were never sure where anybody was, or when any +given event was taking place. + +The courtyard was empty, and after crossing it, Mallory dismounted, +encephalopathed Easy Money to stay put, and climbed the series of +stone steps that led to the castle proper. Entering the building +unchallenged, he found himself at the junction of three corridors. The +main one stretched straight ahead and debouched into a large hall. The +other two led off at right angles, one to the left and one to the +right. Boisterous laughter emanated from the hall, and he could see +knights and other nobles sitting at a long banquet table. Scattered +among them were gentlewomen in rich silks, and hovering behind them +were servants bearing large demijohns. He grinned. Just as he had +figured--King Pelles was throwing a whingding. + +Quickly, Mallory turned down the left-hand corridor and started along +it, counting his footsteps. Rushes rustled beneath his feet, and the +flickering light of wall-torches gave him a series of grotesque +shadows. He saw no one: all the servants were in the banquet hall, +pouring wine and mead. He laughed aloud. + +Forty-eight paces sufficed to see him to the chamber door. It was a +perfectly ordinary door. Opening it, he thought at first that the room +beyond was ordinary, too. Then he saw the burning candles arranged +along the walls, and beneath them, standing in the center of the +floor, the table of silver. The table of the Sangraal.... + +There was no Sangraal on the table, however. There was no Sangraal in +the room, for that matter. There was a girl, though. She was huddled +forlornly in a corner, and she was crying. + + +II + +Mallory laid his spear aside, strode across the room, and raised the +girl to her feet. "The Sangraal," he said, forgetting in his agitation +the few odds and ends of Old English he had memorized. "Where is it!" + +She raised startled eyes that were as round, and almost as large, as +plums. Her face was round, too, and faintly childlike. Her hair was +dark-brown, and done up in a strange and indeterminate coiffeur that +was as charming as it was disconcerting. Her ankle-length dress was +white, and there was a bow on the bodice that matched the +plum-blueness of her eyes. A few cosmetics, properly applied, would +have turned her into an attractive woman, and even without them, she +rated a second look. + +She stared at him for some time, then, "Surely ye be an advision, +sir," she said. "I ... I know ye not." + +Mallory swung his shield around so that she could see the red cross. +"Now do you know me?" + +She gasped, and her eyes grew even rounder. "Sir ... Sir Galahad! Oh, +fair knight, wherefore did ye not say?" + +Mallory ignored the question. "The Sangraal," he repeated. "Where is +it?" + +Her tears had ceased temporarily; now they began again. "Oh, fair +sir!" she cried, "ye see tofore you, a damosel at mischief, the which +was given guardianship of the Holy Vessel at her own request, and +bewrayed her trust, a damosel--" + +"Never mind all that," Mallory said. "Where's the Sangraal?" + +"I wot not, fair sir." + +"But you must know if you were guarding it!" + +"I wot not whither it was taken." + +"But you must wot who took it." + +"Wot I well, fair knight. Sir Launcelot, the which is thy father, bare +it from the chamber." + +Mallory was stunned. "But that's impossible! My fa--Sir Launcelot +wouldn't steal the Sangraal!" + +"Well I wot, fair sir; yet steal it he did. Came he unto the chamber +and saith, I hight Sir Launcelot du Lake of the Table Round, whereat I +did see his armor to be none other; so then took he the Vessel +covered with the red samite and bare it with him from the chamber, +whereat I--" + +"How long ago?" + +"But a little while afore eight of the clock. Sithen I have wept. I +know now no good knight, nor no good man. And I know from thy holy +shield and from they good name that thou art a good knight, and I +beseech ye therefore to help me, for ye be a shining knight indeed, +wherefore ye ought not to fail no damosel which is in distress, and +she besought you of help." + +Mallory only half heard her. Sir Launcelot was too much with him. It +was inconceivable that a knight of such noble principles would even +consider touching the Sangraal, to say nothing of making off with it. +Maybe, though, his principles hadn't been quite as noble as they had +been made out to be. He had been Queen Guinevere's paramour, hadn't +he? He had lain with the fair Elaine, hadn't he? When you came right +down to it, he could very well have been a scoundrel at heart all +along--a scoundrel whose true nature had been toned down by writers +like Malory and poets like Tennyson. All of which, while it strongly +suggested that he was capable of stealing the Sangraal, threw not the +slightest light on his reason for having done so. Mallory was right +back where he had started from. + +He turned to the girl. "You said something about needing my help. What +do you want me to do?" + +Instantly, her tears stopped and she clasped her hands together and +looked at him with worshipful eyes. "Oh, fair sir, ye be most kind +indeed! Well I wot from thy shining armor that ye--" + +"Knock it off," Mallory said. + +"Knock it off? I wot not what--" + +"Never mind. Just tell me what you want me to do." + +"Ye must bear me from the castle, fair sir, or the king learns I have +bewrayed my trust and wreaks his wrath upon me. And then ye must help +me regain the Holy Cup and return it to this chamber." + +"We'll worry about getting the Cup back after we're beyond the walls," +Mallory said, starting for the door. "Come on--they're all in the +banquet hall and as drunk as lords--they won't even see us go by." + +She hung back. "But the warders, fair sir--they be not enchafed. And +King Pelles, by my own wish, did forbid them to pass me." + +Mallory stared at her. "By your own wish! Well of all the crazy--" +Abruptly he dropped the subject. "All right then--how _do_ we get out +of here?" + +"There lieth beneath the fortress and the forest a parlous passage +wherein dwells the fiend, the which I have much discomfit of. But with +ye aside me, fair knight, there is naught to fear." + +Mallory had read enough Malory to be able to take sixth-century fiends +in his stride. "I'll have to take my horse along," he said. "Is there +room for it to pass?" + +"Yea, fair sir. The tale saith that aforetime many knights did ride +out beneath the fortress and the forest and did smite the Saxons, +Saracens, and Pagans, the which did compass the castle about, from +behind, whereupon the battle was won." + +Mallory stepped outside the chamber, the girl just behind him, and +encephalopathed the necessary directions. After a moment, Easy Money +came trotting down the corridor to his side. The girl gasped, and, to +his astonishment, threw her arms around the rohorse's neck. "He is a +noble steed indeed, fair sir," she said; "and worthy of a knight +fitting to sit in the Siege Perilous." Presently she stepped back, +frowning. "He ... he is most cold, fair sir." + +"All horses of that breed are," Mallory explained. "Incidentally, his +name is 'Easy Money'." + +"La! such a strange name." + +"Not so strange." Mallory raised his visor, making a mental note to +see to it that any and all suits of armor he might buy in the future +were air-conditioned. He got his spear. "Let's be on our way, shall +we?" + +"Ye ... ye have blue eyes, fair sir." + +"Never mind the color of my eyes--let's get out of here." + +She seemed to make up her mind about something. "An ye will follow me, +sir knight," she said, and started down the corridor. + + * * * * * + +A ramp, the entrance of which was camouflaged by a rotating section of +the inner castle wall, gave access to the subterranean passage. The +passage itself, in the flickering light of the torch that the girl had +brought along, appeared at first to be nothing more than a natural +cave enlarged through the centuries by the stream that still flowed +down its center. Presently, however, Mallory saw that in certain +places the stone walls had been cut back in such a way that the space +on either side of the stream never narrowed to a width of less than +four feet. He saw other evidence of human handiwork too--dungeons. +They were little more than shallow caves now, though, their iron +gratings having rusted and fallen away. + +After proceeding half a hundred yards, he paused. "I don't know what +we're walking for when we've got a perfectly good horse at our +disposal," he told the girl. "Come on, I'll help you into the saddle +and I'll jump on behind." + +She shook her head. "No, fair knight, it is not fitting for a +gentlewoman to ride tofore her champion. Ye will mount, and I will +ride behind." + +"Suit yourself," Mallory said. He climbed into the saddle with a clank +and a clatter, and helped her up on Easy Money's croup. "By the way, +you never did tell me your name." + +"I hight the damosel Rowena." + +"Pleased to meet you," Mallory said. _Giddy-ap, Easy Money_, he +encephalopathed. + +They rode in silence for a little while, the light from Rowena's torch +dancing acappella rigadoons on bare walls and dripping ceilings, Easy +Money's hoofbeats hardly audible above the purling of the stream. +Presently Rowena said, "It were best that ye drew out thy sword, fair +sir, for anon the fiend will beset us." + +"He hasn't beset us yet," Mallory pointed out. + +"La! fair sir, he will." + +He saw no harm in humoring her, and did as she had suggested. "You +mentioned something a while back about having been given guardianship +of the Sangraal at your own request," he said. "How did that come +about?" + +"List, fair sir, and I will tell ye. But first I must tell ye of Sir +Bors de Ganis, of which Sir Lionel is brother. It happed one day that +Sir Bors did ride into a forest in the Kingdom of Mennes unto the hour +of midday, and there befell him a marvelous adventure. So he met at +the departing of the two ways two knights that led Lionel, his +brother, all naked, bounden upon a strong hackney, and his hands +bounden tofore his breast. And every each of them held in his hands +thorns wherewith they went beating him so sore that the blood trailed +down more than in an hundred places of his body, so that he was all +blood tofore and behind, but he said never a word; as he which was +great of heart he suffered all that ever they did to him as though he +had felt none anguish. + +"Anon Sir Bors dressed him to rescue him that was his brother; and so +he looked upon the other side of him, and saw a knight which brought a +fair gentlewoman, and would have set her in the thickest place of the +forest for to have been the more surer out of the way from them that +sought him. And she which was nothing assured cried with a high voice: +'Saint Mary succor your maid.' And anon she espied where Sir Bors came +riding. And when she came nigh him she deemed him a knight of the +Round Table, whereof she hoped to have some comfort; and then she +conjured him: By the faith that he ought unto him in whose service +thou art entered in, and for the faith ye owe unto the high order of +knighthood, and for the noble King Arthur's sake, that I suppose that +made thee knight, that thou help me, and suffer me not to be shamed of +this knight. When--" + +"Just a minute," Mallory interrupted, thoroughly bewildered and +simultaneously afflicted with an irrational sense of _deja vu_. "This +gentlewoman you speak of--would she by any chance be you?" + +"Wit ye well, fair sir. When--" + +"But if she's you, why don't you use the first person singular instead +of the third?" + +"I wot not what--" + +"Why don't you use 'I' instead of 'she' when you refer to yourself +directly?" + +"It would not be fitting, fair knight. When Bors heard her say thus he +had so much sorrow there he nyst not what to do. For if I let my +brother be in adventure he must be slain, and that would I not for all +the earth. And if I help not the maid she is shamed for ever, and +also she shall lose her virginity the which she shall never get again. +Then lift he up his eyes and said weeping: Fair sweet Lord, whose +liege man I am, keep Lionel, my brother, that these knights slay him +not, and for pity of you, and for Mary's sake, I shall succor this +maid. Then dressed he him unto the knight the which had the +gentlewoman, and then--" + + * * * * * + +"Hist!" Mallory whispered. "I heard something." + +For a moment the light flared wildly as though she had nearly dropped +the torch. "Wh ... whence came the sound, fair knight?" + +"From the other side of the stream." He peered into the vacillating +shadows, but saw nothing but the darker shadows of one of the +innumerable man-made caves. The sound he had heard had brought to mind +the dull clang that metal makes when it collides with stone, and it +had been so faint as to have been barely audible above the purling of +the stream. Thinking back, he was not altogether certain that he had +heard it at all. "My imagination's getting the best of me, I guess," +he said presently. "There's no one there." + +Her warm breath penetrated the crevices of his gorget and fanned the +back of his neck. "Ye ... ye ween not that it could have been the +fiend prowling?" + +"Of course I ween not! Relax, and finish your story. But get to the +point, will you?" + +"An ... an it so please.... And then Sir Bors cried: Sir knight, let +your hand off that maiden, or ye be but dead. And then he set down the +maiden, and was armed at all pieces save he lacked his spear. Then he +dressed his shield, and drew out his sword, and Bors smote him so hard +that it went through his shield and habergeon on the left shoulder. +And through great strength he beat him down to the earth, and at the +pulling out of Bors' spear there he swooned. Then came Bors to the +maid and said: How seemeth it to you of this knight ye be delivered at +this time? Now sir, said she, I pray you lead me there as this knight +had me. So shall I do gladly: and took the horse of the wounded +knight, and set the gentlewoman upon him, and so brought her as she +desired. Sir knight, said she, ye have better sped than ye weened, for +an I had lost my maidenhead, five hundred men should have died for it. +What knight was he that had you in the forest? By my faith, said she, +he is my cousin. So wot I never with what engyn the fiend enchafed +him, for yesterday he took me from my father privily; for I nor none +of my father's men mistrusted him not, and if he had had my maidenhead +he should have died for the sin, and his body shamed and dishonored +for ever. Thus as--" + +"_Shhh!_" + +This time, Mallory was certain that he had heard something. The sound +had had much in common with the previous sound, except that it had +suggested metal scraping against, rather than colliding with, stone. +Directly across the stream was another cave, this one shallow enough +to permit the torchlight to penetrate its deeper shadows, and looking +into those shadows, he caught a faint gleam of reflected light. + +Rowena must have caught it, too, for he heard her gasp behind him. "It +were best that I thanked ye now for thy great kindness, fair knight," +she said, "for anon we be no longer on live." + +"Nonsense!" Mallory said. "If this fiend of yours is anywhere in the +vicinity, he's probably more afraid of us than we are of him." + +The cave was behind them now. "Per ... peradventure he hath already +had meat," Rowena said hopefully. "The tale saith that and the fiend +be filled, he becomes aweary and besets not them the which do pass him +by in peace." + +"I'll keep my sword handy, just in case he changes his mind," Mallory +said. "Meanwhile, get on with your autobiography--only for Pete's +sake, cut it short, will you?" + +"An it please, fair sir. Thus as the fair gentlewoman stood talking +with Sir Bors there came twelve knights seeking after her, and anon +she told them all how Bors had delivered her; then they made great +joy, and besought him to come to her father, a great lord, and he +should be right welcome. Truly, said Bors, that may not be at this +time, for I have a great adventure to do in this country. So he +commended them unto God and departed. The fair gentlewoman did grieve +mickle to see him leave, and she saith, sir knights, noble was the +service that brave knight did render unto thy liege's daughter in the +saving of her maidenhead the which she could never get again, for that +be none other than his own brother the which he fauted. Therefore, +noble must be both his king and his cause, wherefore it be befitting +that a gentlewoman of thy liege's daughter's nature leave the castle +of her father betimes that she may render fitting service to her +succor's cause and be worthy of his deed. Thus spake this fair +gentlewoman, whereat she did mount upon her palfrey and so departed +her from thence and did ride as fast as her palfrey might bear her, +whereupon after many days she came to the castle of Carbonek and did +seek out King Pelles and did beseech him that she might be made +guardian of the Sangraal, whereat he did graciously consent to her +request and did consent also that she be made prisoner in the fortress +by her own wish. And now she was bewrayed her trust, fair sir, and the +table of silver whereon the Sangraal stood stands empty." + + * * * * * + +For some time after she finished talking, Mallory was silent. Was she +trying to pull his leg? he wondered. Or were the gentlewomen of her +day and age really as high-minded and as feathered-brained as she +would have him believe? He decided not to go into the matter for the +moment. "Tell me, Rowena," he said, "if the Sangraal is visible only +to those who are worthy of it, as I have been led to believe, how are +any of those wassailers whooping it up back there in that banquet +hall going to know whether it's gone or not?" + +"It be ofttimes averred that all cannot see the Holy Cup, as ye say, +fair knight. Natheless, all that have come unto the chamber sithen my +trust began, they did see it, and Sir Launcelot, the which is much +with sin, he did see it--and did take it." + +"He's not going to get very far with it, though," Mallory said. And +then, "How long is the tunnel anyway?" + +"Anon we shall see the stars, fair sir." + +She was right, and a few minutes later, after rounding a turn in the +passage, they emerged upon the bank of a small river. The subterranean +stream that had kept them company emerged, too, and joined its larger +sister on the way to the sea. On either hand, cliffs rose up, and the +susurrus of waves breaking on sand could be heard in the distance. + +Mallory guided Easy Money upstream to where the cliffs dwindled down +to thickly forested slopes. It took him but a moment to orientate +himself, and presently rohorse and riders were headed in the direction +of the highway. "Now," said he, "if you'll tell me where you want to +be dropped off, I'll see what I can do about getting the Grail back." + +There was a brief silence. Then, "An ... an ye wish, ye may leave me +here." + +He halted Easy Money, dismounted, and lifted her down to the ground. +He looked around, expecting to see a habitation of some sort. He saw +nothing but trees. He faced the girl again. "Don't you have any +friends or relatives you can stay with?" + +An argent shaft of moonlight slanting down through the foliage +illumined her face. "There be none nigh, fair sir, nor none nearer +than an hundred miles. I shall abide your again coming here in the +forest." + +Mallory stared at her. She didn't look--or act either, for that +matter--as though she knew enough to get in out of the rain. "Abide +here in the forest! Why, you wouldn't last a week!" + +"But ye will return hither with the Sangraal long afore that, +whereupon we two together shall return the Holy Vessel to the chamber +and I shall not be made to suffer the severing of my two hands." + +He was aghast. "They wouldn't dare cut off your hands!" + +"They dare much, fair knight. Know ye naught of the customs of the +land?" + +He was silent. What in the world was he going to do about her? She +would probably wait here for him until she starved to death or, +equally as distressing, until she was apprehended. Abruptly he +shrugged his shoulders--to the extent that his pauldrons +permitted--and remounted the rohorse. Why should it matter to him what +became of her? He'd returned to the Age of Chivalry to steal the +Sangraal, not to play nursemaid to damosels in distress. "Don't take +any wooden nickels now," he said. + +Two tiny stars appeared in the pale regions of her eyes and twinkled +down her cheeks. "May the good Lord speed ye upon thy quest, fair +knight, and may He guard ye well." + +"Oh, for Pete's sake!" Mallory said, and reaching down, pulled her up +onto Easy Money's croup. "I have a castle not far from here. I'll drop +you off, then I'll go after the Sangraal." + +Her breath was warm little wind seeping through the crevices of his +gorget. "Oh, fair sir, ye be the noblest of all the knights in all the +land, and I shall serve thee faithfully for the rest of my days!" + +The rohorse whinnied. _Giddy-ap, Easy Money_, Mallory encephalopathed, +and they started out. + + +III + +Rowena fell for the _Yore_ hook, line, and sinker. Not even the modern +interior gave her pause. Those objects which happened to be beyond her +ken--and there were many of them--she interpreted as "appointments +befitting a noble knight," and as for the rooms themselves, she merely +identified them with the rooms out of her own experience that they +most closely resembled. Thus the rec-hall became "the banquet hall," +the supply room became "the kitchen," the control room became "the +sorcerer's tower," the tourist compartments became "the sleeping +tower," Mallory's bedroom-office became "the lord's quarters," the +lavatory became "the chapel," and the generator room became "the +dungeon." Only two things disconcerted her: the absence of servants +and the fact that Easy Money was stabled in the banquet hall. Mallory +got around the first by telling her that he had given the servants a +leave of absence, and she herself got around the second by declaring +it to be no more than fitting for such a splendid steed to be accorded +special treatment. Certainly, Mallory reflected, she was nothing if +she was not co-operative. + +After showing her around he wasted no time in getting down to the +business on hand, and stepping into the control room, he punched out +the data necessary to take the _Yore_ back to 7:15 p.m. of the same +day, and to re-materialize it one half mile west of its present +position, as an overlap was bound to occur. There was a barely +noticeable tremor as the transition took place, and simultaneously the +darkness showing on the control-room telewindow transmuted to dusk. + +Turning away from the jump board, he saw Rowena regarding him with +large eyes from the doorway. "We're now back to a point in time that +precedes the theft of the Sangraal," he told her, "and we're relocated +farther down the valley. But don't let it throw you. None other than +Merlin himself built the magic apparatus you see before you in this +room, and you know yourself that once he makes up his mind to it, +Merlin can do anything." + +She blinked once, but evinced no other signs of surprise. "Yea, fair +sir," she said, "I am ware of the magic of Merlin." + +"However," Mallory went on, "magic such as this isn't something for a +gentlewoman such as yourself to fool around with, so I must forbid you +to enter this room during my absence from the castle. Also, while +we're on the subject, I must also forbid you to leave the castle +during my absence. Merlin would be upset no end if there were two +damosels that hight Rowena gallivanting around the countryside at the +same time." + +She blinked again. "By my troth, fair sir," she said, "I would lever +die than disobey thy two commands." And then, "Have ye ate any meat +late?" + +This time, Mallory blinked, "Meat?" + +"It is fitting that ye should eat meat afore ye ride out." + +"Oh, you mean food. I'll eat when I get back. But there's no need for +you to wait." He took her into the supply room and showed her where +the vacuum tins were stored. "You open them like this," he explained, +pulling one out and activating the desealer. "Then, as soon as the +contents cool off a little, you sit down to dinner." + +"But this be not meat," she objected. + +"Maybe not, but it's a good substitute, and a lot better for you." A +thought struck him, and he took her into the lavatory and showed her +how to operate the hot and cold-water dispenser, ascribing the setup +to more of Merlin's magic. He debated on whether to explain the +function and purpose of the adjacent shower, decided not to. There was +a limit to all things, and an apparatus for washing one's whole body +was simply too farfetched for anyone living in the sixth-century to +take seriously. + +Back in the rec-hall, he donned his helmet and gauntlets, reset the +gauntlet timepiece, picked up his spear and encephalopathed Easy Money +to his side. Mounting, he set the spear in the stirrup socket. Rowena +gazed up at him, plum-blue eyes round with awe and admiration--and +concern. "Wit ye well, fair sir," she said, "that Sir Launcelot, the +which is thy father, is a knight of many victories, and therefore ye +must take care." + +Mallory grinned. "Dismay you not, fair damsel, I'll smite him from his +steed before he can say 'Queen Guinevere'." He straightened his sword +belt, activated the _Yore's_ lock, and rode across the mirage-moat and +entered the forest. The "portcullis" closed behind him. + + * * * * * + +Dusk had become darkness by the time he reached the highway. +Approximately half an hour later he would reach the highway again. +However, the seeming paradox did not disconcert him in the least: this +was far from being the first time he had backtracked himself on a job. + +[Illustration] + +As "before," he spurned the shadows of the bordering oaks and beeches +and encephalopathed Easy Money to keep to the center of the lane. And, +as "before," no one was abroad. Probably King Pelles' wassail was +already in progress, or, if not, the goodly knights and gentlewomen +were still at evensong. In any event, he reached the lane that led to +the castle of Carbonek without mishap. + +After entering the lane, he encephalopathed Easy Money into the +concealment of the shadows of the bordering trees and settled back in +the saddle to wait. Rowena's placing the time of the theft at "a +little while afore eight of the clock" had been a general estimate at +best; hence he had allowed himself plenty of leeway and had arrived on +the scene a little early. It was well that he had, for hardly a minute +passed before he heard hoofbeats approaching from the south, and +presently he saw a tall knight astride a resplendent steed turn into +the lane. His armor gleamed in the moonlight and bespoke a quality and +class that only a knight of Sir Launcelot's status would be able to +afford. + +Mallory watched him ride down the lane to the lion-flanked entrance +and heard him announce himself as "Sir Launcelot". The portcullis was +raised without delay, and the knight rode through the gateway and +disappeared from view. + +Mallory frowned in the darkness. Something about the incident had +failed to jibe. He thought back, but he could isolate nothing that, in +retrospect anyway, seemed in the least incongruous. He tried again, +with the same result, and at length he concluded that the note of +discord had originated in his imagination. + +Again, he settled back to wait. He wasn't particularly worried about +the outcome of the forthcoming encounter--the superiority of the +weapons and armor should be more than enough to see him through--but +just the same he wished there was some way to avoid it. There wasn't, +of course. Sir Launcelot's theft of the Sangraal was already +incorporated in fact, and, as a _fait accompli_, could not be obviated +by a previous theft. All Mallory could do was to make his move after +the _fait acccompli_ in the hope that that was when he _had_ made his +move. A time-thief didn't have nearly as much leeway as his seeming +freedom of movement might lead the uninitiated to believe. About all +he could do was to play along with destiny and await his +opportunities. If destiny smiled, he succeeded; if destiny frowned, he +did not. However, Mallory was optimistic about his forthcoming bid for +the Grail, for if it wasn't in the books for him to wrest the Cup from +Sir Launcelot, the chances were he wouldn't have gotten as far as he +had. + +He estimated that it would take the man five minutes to enter the +castle, proceed to the chamber, seize the Sangraal, return to the +courtyard and come riding back to the portcullis. Seven minutes proved +to be nearer the mark. In response to a hail from within the wall, +several of the warders bent to the windlass, whereupon the portcullis +scraped and groaned aloft, and the tall knight came riding out just as +the hands of Mallory's timepiece registered 7:43 p.m. + +Mallory let him pass, straining his eyes in vain for a glimpse of the +Sangraal. He waited till Sir Launcelot was half a hundred yards down +the highway before he encephalopathed Easy Money to follow, and he +waited till a bend in the road hid the castle of Carbonek from view +before encephalopathing the command to charge. At this point, Sir +Launcelot became aware that he was no longer alone, and wheeled his +steed around. Without an instant's hesitation, he dressed his spear +and launched a counter-charge. All Mallory could think of was a +twentieth-century steam locomotive bearing down upon him. + +He swallowed grimly, "aventred" his own spear, and upped Easy Money's +pace. Two could play at being locomotives. The approaching knight and +steed loomed larger; the sound of hoofbeats crescendoed into staccato +thunder. The spear pointing straight toward Mallory's breastplate had +something of the aspect of a jet-propelled flagpole. Hurriedly, he got +his shield into position. Maybe the man would spot the red cross, +realize its significance, and slow down. + +If he spotted it, he gave no sign, and only came the faster. Mallory +braced himself for the forthcoming impact. However, the impact never +occurred. At the last moment his antagonist directed the spearpoint at +Mallory's helmet, did something that made it separate itself from the +shaft to the accompaniment of a gout of incandescence and come +streaking through the air like a little comet. Mallory tried to dodge, +but he would have been equally as successful if he had tried to dodge +a real comet. There was a deafening _clang!_ in the region of his left +audio-amplifier, and the whole left side of his face went numb. Just +before he blacked out he saw the oncoming knight veer his steed, wheel +it around, and ride off. A peal of all-too-familiar laughter drifted +back over the man's shoulder. + + * * * * * + +"Now," said the rent-a-robogogue, "you will try again: 'A' is for +'Atom', 'B' is for 'Bomb', 'C' is for 'Conform', 'D' is for 'Dollar', +'E' is for 'Economy', and 'F' is for 'Fun'. What comes after 'F'?" + +The boy Mallory squirmed in his ABC chair. "I don't know what comes +next and I don't care!" + +"I'll box your ears," the rent-a-robogogue threatened. + +"You wouldn't dare!" + +"Yes I would--I'm a physical-chastisement model, you know. Now, we'll +try once more: 'A' is for 'Atom', 'B' is for 'Bomb', 'C' is for +'Conform', 'D' is for 'Dollar', 'E' is for 'Economy', and 'F' is for +'Fun'. What comes after 'F'?" + +"I told you that I didn't know and that I didn't care!" + +"I warned you," said the rent-a-robogogue. + +"Ow!" the boy Mallory cried. + +"Ow!" the man Mallory groaned, sitting up in the weeds beside the +early sixth-century highway. + +All was silence around him, if you discounted the stridulations of +insects and the _be-ke korak-korak-korak_ of frogs. A few yards away, +Easy Money stood immobile in the moonlight. Mallory raised his hand +to his helmet and felt the sizable dent that the spearpoint had made. +Gingerly, he took the helmet off. Who in the world would have dreamed +that they had jet-rifles in this day and age! + +The absurdity of the thought snapped him back to full awareness. A +moment later he remembered the peal of familiar laughter. + +Perfidion! + +The man must have wanted the Grail desperately to have come after it +himself, which meant that it was probably worth much more than he had +let on. But how had he known when and where to essay the lift? More +specifically, how had he found out when and where to essay the lift on +such short notice? + +Mallory thought back. He was reasonably certain that he had made no +slips of the tongue during his visit to the Perfidion Tower and during +the ensuing game of golp, and he was equally certain that he had let +fall no revealing references to the place-time he had so carefully +pinpointed. Where, then, had he gone astray? + +Suddenly, way back in his mind, Perfidion said, "By the way, Tom, I +take it you're all set as regards costume, equipment and the like." + +"I've got the sweetest little suit of armor you ever laid eyes on," +Mallory heard himself answer. + +He swore. So that was it! All Perfidion had needed to do was to make +the rounds of the costumers who specialized in armor, and to shell out +a few Kennedees to the one Mallory had patronized last. Then, in +possession of the knowledge that Mallory was embarking into the past +as Sir Galahad, all Perfidion had had to do was to consult one of the +many experts he kept at his beck and call. The expert had undoubtedly +told him where Sir Galahad was supposed to have found the Grail before +taking it to Sarras, and, equally as important, approximately when the +event was supposed to have taken place. Further questions could not +have failed to elicit the additional information that Sir Launcelot +had come to the chamber of the Sangraal before Sir Galahad had, and +from this Perfidion had undoubtedly deduced that Sir Launcelot could +very well have been a time-thief in disguise, too, and that the man, +having arrived on the scene first, could very well have been +responsible for the Grail's so-called return to Heaven, despite what +legend said to the contrary. Certainly it had been a gamble worth +taking, and obviously Perfidion had taken it. + +And won the jackpot. + +But that didn't mean he was going to keep the jackpot. Not by a long +shot. Mallory encephalopathed Easy Money to his side and pulled +himself to his feet with the help of the left stirrup and hung his +helmet on the pommel. Then he picked up his spear and clambered into +the saddle. "We're not beat yet, Easy Money," he said. _Giddy-ap!_ + +Easy Money whinnied, stamped its feet, and started back toward the +_Yore_. A short while later they passed the lane that led to the +castle of Carbonek. Presently Mallory heard the _clip-clop_ of +approaching hoofbeats, and not wanting to risk an encounter in his +weakened condition, he encephalo-guided the rohorse off the highway +and into the deep shadows of a big oak. There was something +tantalizingly familiar about the horse and rider coming down the +highway. Small wonder: the "horse" was Easy Money and the rider was +himself. He was on his way to the castle of Carbonek to lift the Holy +Grail. + +Mallory gazed after his retreating figure disgustedly. "Sucker!" he +said. + + +IV + +Rowena nearly threw a fit when Mallory rode into the rec-hall. "Oh, +fair knight, ye be sorely wounded indeed!" she cried, helping him down +from his rohorse. "Certes, an ye bleed so much ye may die!" + +Mallory's head was throbbing, and he saw two damosels that hight +Rowena instead of only one. "I'll be all right after I lie down for a +while," he said. "And don't worry about the bleeding--it's almost +stopped." + +He took a step in the direction of his bedroom office, staggered and +would have fallen if she hadn't caught his arm. Her strength +astonished him: for all the lightness of his armor, it still lent him +an over-all weight of some two hundred and ten pounds; and yet the +shoulder which she provided for him to lean on did not give once all +the way to his bedside. She had his pauldrons, breastplate, and +arm-coverings off in no time flat. His cuisses, greaves, and sollerets +followed. The last he remembered was lying there in his under garments +and his chain-mail vest with three faces swimming in the misted sea of +his vision, each of them invested with the peculiar beauty that +concern, and concern alone, can grant. + +"How is mammakin's little man now?" the rent-a-mammakin asked, +applying soothing sedasalve to the boy Mallory's swollen ear. + +"He hit me, mammakin," the boy Mallory sobbed. "Just because I +wouldn't tell him that 'G' stands for 'Geography'. I hate geography! I +hate it, hate it, hate it!" + +"Nasty old rent-a-robogogue! Mammakin sent him away. He was an old +model that got rented out by mistake. Is mammakin's little man's ear +all right now?" + +The boy Mallory sat up. "I want my real--" he began. + +The man Mallory sat up. "I want my real--" he began. + +"I have great joy of thy swift recovery, fair sir," Rowena said. + +She was perched on the edge of his bed, applying a cool and soothing +ointment to his ear. On the table by the bed lay a basin of water, and +on her lap lay a pink tube. He grabbed the tube, looked at the label. +_Sedasalve_. He sighed with relief. "Where did you find it?" he +asked. + +"La! fair sir, when ye did seem no longer on live I did run both +toward and forward in the castle seeking a magical salve whereby I +might succor ye, whereupon I did come to a white box in the chapel +wherein lay many magical tubes of diverse colors and natures whereof I +did choose one and--" + +Mallory was incredulous. "You chose a tube at random?" he demanded. +"Good Lord, it might have contained a counteragent that could have +killed me!" + +"The ... the letters thereon seemed of a magical nature, fair knight. +And ... and the color was seemly." + +"Well anyway it was the right one." He looked at her. Could she read? +he wondered. He was tempted to ask her, but refrained for fear of +embarrassing her. "In that same white box," he said, "you will find a +big bottle filled with round red pellets. Would you get it for me?" + +When she returned with it, he took two of the pills, then he laid his +head back on the pillow. "They'll restore the blood I lost," he +explained, "but in order for them to do the job properly I've got to +lie perfectly still for at least one hour." + +She sat down on the edge of the bed. "Marry! the magic of Merlin is +marvelous, albeit not as marvelous as the magic of Joseph of +Arimathea." + +"What did he do that was so marvelous?" + +The plum-blue eyes were fixed full upon his face. "Ye wit naught of +the tale of the white shield ye bear, fair sir? List, and I will tell +ye: + +"It befell after the passion of our Lord thirty-two year, that Joseph +of Arimathea, the gentle knight, the which took down our Lord off the +holy Cross, at that time departed from Jerusalem with a great party of +his kindred with him. And so he labored till that they came to a city +that hight Sarras. And at that same hour that Joseph came to Sarras +there was a king that hight Evelake, that had great war against the +Saracens, and in especially against one Saracen, the which was King +Evelake's cousin, a rich king and a mighty, which marched nigh this +land, and his name was called Tolleme la Feintes. So on a day these +two met to do battle. Then Joseph, the son of Joseph of Arimathea, +went to King Evelake and told him he should be discomfit and slain, +but if he left his belief of the old law and believed upon the new +law. And then there he showed him the right belief of the Holy +Trinity, to the which he agreed unto with all his heart; and there +this shield was made for King Evelake, in the name of Him that died +upon the Cross. And then--" + +"Hold it a minute," Mallory said. "This shield you've finally got +around to mentioning--is it the same one you set out to tell me +about?" + +"Wit ye well, fair sir. And then through King Evelake's good belief he +had the better of King Tolleme. For when Evelake was in the battle +there was a cloth set afore the shield, and when he was in the +greatest peril he left put away the cloth, and then his enemies saw a +figure of a man on the Cross, wherethrough they all were discomfit. +And so it befell that a man of King Evelake's was smitten his hand +off, and bare that hand in his other hand; and Joseph called that man +unto him and bade him go with good devotion touch the Cross. And as +soon as that man had touched the Cross with his hand it was as whole +as ever it was tofore. Then soon after there fell a great marvel, that +the cross of the shield at one time vanished away that no man wist +where it became. And then King Evelake was baptized, and for the most +part all the people of that city. So, soon after Joseph would depart, +and King Evelake would go with him whether he would or nold. And so by +fortune they came into this land, that at that time was called Great +Britain: and there they found a great felon paynim, that put Joseph +into prison. And so--" + +"A great _what_?" Mallory asked. In one sense the story was familiar +to him, but what bothered him was the fact that it was familiar in +another sense too--a sense he couldn't put his finger on. + +"A wicked unbeliever in our Lord. And so by fortune tidings came unto +a worthy man that hight Mondrames, and he assembled all his people for +the great renown he had heard of Joseph; and so he came into the land +of Great Britain and disinherited this felon paynim and consumed him; +and therewith delivered Joseph out of prison. And after that all the +people were turned to the Christian faith. + +"Not long after that Joseph was laid in his deadly bed. And when King +Evelake say that he made much sorrow, and said: For thy love I have +left my country, and sith ye shall depart out of this world, leave me +some token of yours that I may think on you. Joseph said: That will I +do full gladly; now bring me your shield that I took you when ye went +into battle against King Tolleme. Then Joseph bled at the nose, so +that he might not by no means be staunched. And there upon that shield +he made a cross of his own blood. Now may ye see a remembrance that I +love you, for ye shall never see this shield but ye shall think on me, +and it shall be always as fresh as it is now. And never shall man bear +this shield about his neck but he shall repent it, unto the time that +Galahad, the good knight, bare it; and the last of my lineage shall +have it about his neck, that shall do many marvelous deeds. Now, said +King Evelake, where shall I put this shield, that this worthy knight +may have it? Ye shall leave it there as Nacien, the hermit, shall be +put after his death; for thither shall that good knight come the +fifteenth day after that he shall receive the order of knighthood: and +so...." + + * * * * * + +When Mallory awoke, Rowena's head was resting on his chest, and she +was breathing the soft and even breaths of untroubled sleep. Her hair, +viewed thus closely, was not as dark as he had at first believed it to +be. It was brown, really, rather than dark-brown. And astonishingly +lustrous. Without thinking, he rested his hand lightly upon her head. +She stirred then, and sat up, rubbing her plum-blue eyes. For a +moment she stared at him uncomprehendingly, then, "Prithee forgive me, +fair sir," she said. + +Mallory sat up, too. "Forgive you for what? Go open a couple of vacuum +tins while I get into my armor--I'm going to bring this caper to a +close." + +"Thy ... thy strength has returned?" + +"I never felt better in my life." + +In the rec-hall he said, sitting down at the table before one of the +two vacuum tins she had opened, "You never did ask me what happened." + +"Ye will tell me of thy own will an ye wish me to know." + +Mallory took a mouthful of simulsteak, chewed and swallowed. "Your Sir +Launcelot turned out to be a phony, and pulled a rabbit out of his +helmet the nature of which I'd better not try to describe to you." + +Eyes round as plums, she regarded him across the table. "A ... a +phony, fair sir?" + +Mallory nodded. "That's a sort of felon paynim who plays golp." + +"But with my own eyes I did see his armor, fair knight." + +"That's right--you saw his armor. But you didn't see him. A certain +character by the name of Perfidion was residing behind that +hardware--not the good Sir Launcelot." + +"Perfidion?" + +Mallory grinned. "Sir Jason Perfidion--a knight errant ye wit not of. +But the tournament's not over yet, and this time _I've_ got the +rabbit: he thinks I'm dead." + +"He ... he left ye for dead, fair sir?" + +"That he did, and if that little brain-buster of his had struck just +one inch to the right, I'd have been just that." He shoved his empty +vacuum tin away and stood up. "Excuse me a minute--I've got to visit +the sorcerer's tower again." + +In the control room, he took the _Yore_ back to 7:20 p.m. of the same +day and re-materialized it half a mile farther down the valley. +Turning, he saw that Rowena had followed him and was watching him from +the doorway. "Whereabouts may I find oats that I may feed thy horse, +fair knight?" she asked. + +"Easy Money doesn't eat. He--" Mallory paused astonished as two of the +largest tears he had ever seen coalesced in her eyes and went tumbling +down her cheeks. "Oh, it's not that he's sick," he rushed on. "It's +just that horses like him don't require food to keep them going. Why, +Easy Money's guaranteed for ... he'll live another thirty years." + +The sun came up beyond the plum-blue horizons of her eyes. "It +pleaseth me mickle to hear ye speak thus, fair knight. I ... I have +great joy of him." + +Back in the rec-hall, Mallory pulled on his gauntlets, reset his +timepiece, and donned his helmet. The left audio-amplifier was shot, +but otherwise the piece was in good condition--aside from the dent, of +course. He encephalopathed Easy Money to his side, hung his shield +around his neck, and mounted. "Hand me my spear, will you, Rowena?" he +asked. + +She did so. "Ye be a most noble knight indeed, fair sir," she said, +"for to set so little store by thine own life in the service of a +damosel the which is undeserving of thy deeds. I ... I would lever +that ye forsook the Sangraal than that ye be fordone." + +Her concern touched him, and he removed his helmet and leaned down and +kissed her on the forehead. "Keep the home fires burning," he said; +then, setting his helmet back in place, he activated the lock, rode +across the mirage-moat, and set forth into the forest once again. + + +V + +This time when he reached the crest of the ridge that separated the +two valleys, Mallory took an azimuth on the towers of Carbonek, +encephalo-fed the direction to Easy Money, and programmed the "animal" +to proceed in as straight a course as possible. + +In the east, the moon was just beginning to rise; in the west, traces +of the sunset lingered blood-red just above the horizon. On the +highway below, a knight sitting astride a brown rohorse and bearing a +white shield with a red cross in the center was riding toward Carbonek +to challenge a twenty-second century "felon paynim" in imitation +Age-of-Chivalry armor. In the valley Mallory had just left behind him +there were two castles named _Yore_, and soon, a third would pop into +existence and yet another Mallory come riding out. Mallory grinned. It +was a little bit like playing chess. + +The forest which Easy Money presently entered was parklike in places, +and sometimes the trees thinned out into wide, moonlit meadows. +Crossing one of the meadows, Mallory saw the first star, and when at +length Easy Money emerged on the highway, the heavens were decked out +in typical midsummer panoply. The rohorse had followed its programming +almost perfectly and had emerged at a point just south of the lane +leading to the castle of Carbonek. All Mallory had to do was to +encephalo-guide it farther down the highway to a point beyond the site +of the forthcoming joust. While doing so, he kept well within the +concealing shadows of the bordering oaks and beeches where the ground +was soft and could give forth no telltale _clip-clop_ of hoofbeats. +His circumspection proved wise--as in one sense, of course, it already +had--and when the false Sir Launcelot came riding by on his way to the +castle and the chamber of the Sangraal, he was no more aware of +Mallory III's presence by the roadside than he would presently be +aware of Mallory II's presence in the shadows of the trees that +bordered the lane. + +Mallory III grinned again and brought Easy Money to a halt just beyond +the next bend. "Wit ye well, Sir Jason, that thy hours be numbered," +he said. + +He remained seated in the saddle, feeling pretty good about the +world. In no time at all, if his one-man ambuscade came off, he would +be on his way back to the _Yore_, and thence to the twenty-second +century and a haircut. Selling the Sangraal without the aid of a +professional time-fence like Perfidion would be difficult, of course, +but it could be done, and once it was done, he, Mallory, could take +his place on Get-Rich-Quick Street with the best of them, and no +questions would be asked. There was, to be sure, the problem of what +to do about a certain damosel that hight Rowena, but he would face +that when he came to it. Maybe he could drop her off a dozen years in +the future in a region far enough removed from Carbonek to ensure her +safety. He would see. + +[Illustration] + +At this point in his reflections he was jolted into alertness by the +sound of approaching hoofbeats. A moment later he heard a second set +of hoofbeats and knew that Mallory II had made his presence known. +Presently both sets crescendoed into staccato thunder as the two +"knights" came pounding toward each other, and not long afterward +there was a clank and a clatter as Mallory II went tumbling out of his +saddle and into the roadside weeds. Finally the single set of +hoofbeats took over again, and Mallory III saw a horse and rider +coming around the bend in the highway. He braced himself. + +Before making his play, he waited till horse and rider were directly +opposite him; then he encephalopathed Easy Money to charge. "Sir +Launcelot" managed to get his shield up in time, but the maneuver did +him no good. Mallory's spearhead struck the shield dead center, and +"Sir Launcelot" went sailing out of his saddle to land with an awesome +clatter flat on his back on the highway. He did not get up. + +Dismounting, Mallory removed the man's helmet. It was Perfidion all +right. There was a large bruise on the side of his head and he was out +cold, but he was still breathing. Next, Mallory looked for the +Sangraal. Perfidion had concealed it somewhere, and apparently he had +done the job well. Since the armor could not have accommodated an +object of that size, the hiding place had to be somewhere on the body +of his horse. The horse was standing quietly beside Easy Money in the +middle of the highway. It was jet-black and its fetlock-length +trappings were blue, threaded with silver; otherwise, the two steeds +were identical. Mallory tumbled to the truth then, went over to where +the black "horse" was standing, raised its trappings, found the tiny +activator button, and depressed it. The croup-hood rose up, and there +in the secret compartment, wrapped in red samite, lay the cause of the +mounting absentee-rate in King Arthur's court. + +Always the skeptic, Mallory raised a corner of the samite in order to +make certain that he was not being cheated. Instantly, a reflected ray +of moonlight stabbed upward into his eyes, and for a moment he was +blinded. Exorcising the thought that sneaked into his mind, he closed +the croup-hood, rearranged the trappings, and returned to Perfidion's +side. Dragging the armor-encumbered man over to the black rohorse and +slinging him over the saddle was no easy matter, but Mallory managed; +then he picked up Perfidion's helmet and spear and set the former on +the pommel and wedged the latter in one of the stirrups. Finally he +mounted Easy Money and, encephalopathing the black rohorse to follow, +set out down the highway away from the castle of Carbonek. + +Make-believe castles could fool the hadbeens, but they couldn't fool a +professional. He spotted the phony towers of Perfidion's TSB rising +above the trees before he had proceeded half a mile. After raising the +"portcullis", he got the man down from the black rohorse, dragged him +inside, and propped him against the rec-hall bar. Then he got the +man's helmet and spear and laid them beside him. After considerable +reflection, he went into the control room, set the time-dial for June +10, 1964, the space-dial for a busy intersection in downtown Los +Angeles, and punched out H-O-T-D-O-G S-T-A-N-D on the lumillusion +panel. Satisfied, he went into the generator room and short-circuited +the automatic throw-out unit so that when rematerialization took +place, the generator would burn up. Finding a ball of heavy-duty +twine, he returned to the control room, tied one end to the master +switch, and began backing out of the TSB, unwinding the twine as he +went. + +In the rec-hall, he paused, and grinned down at the still-unconscious +Perfidion. "It's a better break than you meant to give me, Jason," he +said. "And don't worry--once you explain to the authorities what +you're doing in a suit of sixth-century armor and how you happened to +open a giant hot-dog stand in the middle of a traffic-clogged +crossroads, you'll be all right. As a matter of fact, with your +knowledge of things to come, you'll probably wind up a richer man than +you are now--if the smog doesn't get you first." He stepped through +the lock, jerked the twine, and the "castle" vanished into thin air. + +Remounting Easy Money and encephalopathing the black rohorse to +follow, he started back toward the _Yore_, taking a direct route +through the forest. He was halfway to his destination and had just +emerged into a wide meadow when he saw the knight with the white +shield riding toward him in the bright moonlight. In the center of the +shield there was a vivid blood-red cross. + +When the knight saw Mallory, he brought his steed to a halt. Moonlight +glimmered eerily on his shield, turned his helmet to silver. His armor +seemed to emit an unearthly light--a light that was at once terrifying +and transcendent. The hilt of his sword was as blood-red as the cross +on his shield; so was the pommel of his spear. Here was righteousness +incarnate. Here in the form of an armored man on horseback was the +quintessence of the Age of Chivalry--not the Age of Chivalry as +exemplified by the vain and boasting nobles who had constituted +nine-tenths of the knight-errantry profession and who had used the +quest of the Holy Grail as an excuse to seek after mead and maidens, +but the Age of Chivalry as it might have been if the ideal behind it +had been shared by the many instead of by the few; the Age of +Chivalry, in short, as it had come down to posterity through the pages +of Malory's _Le Morte d'Arthur_. + +At length the knight spoke: "I hight Sir Galahad of the Table Round." + +Reluctantly, Mallory encephalopathed his two rohorses to halt, and +said the only thing he had left to say: "I hight Sir Thomas of the +castle _Yore_." + +"By whose leave bear ye likenesses of the red arms and the white +shield whereon shines the red cross the which was put there by Joseph +of Arimathea whilst he lay dying in his deadly bed?" + +Mallory did not answer. + +There was silence. Then, "I would joust with ye," Sir Galahad said. + +There it was, laid right on the line. The challenge-- + +The death sentence. + +Nonsense! Mallory told himself. He's nothing but a nineteen-year old +kid. With your rohorse and your superior weapons you can unseat him in +two seconds flat, and once he's down, that glorified junk pile he's +wearing will glue him to the ground so fast he won't be able to lift a +finger! + +Aloud, he said, "Have at me then!" + +Instantly, Sir Galahad wheeled his horse around and rode to the far +side of the meadow. There, he wheeled the horse around again and +dressed his spear. Moonlight danced a silvery saraband on his white +shield, and the blood-red cross blurred and seemed to run. + +Mallory dressed his own spear. Immediately, Sir Galahad charged. +_Full speed ahead, Easy Money!_ Mallory encephalopathed, and the +rohorse took off like a rocket. + +All he had to do was to hang on tight, and the joust would be in the +bag, he reassured himself. Sir Galahad's spear would break like a +matchstick, while his own superior spear would penetrate Sir Galahad's +shield as though the shield was made of tissue paper, as in a sense it +really was when you compared the metal that constituted it to modern +alloys. No matter how you looked at the situation, the kid was in for +a big letdown. Mallory almost felt sorry for him. + +The hoofbeats of horse and rohorse crescendoed; there was the +resounding clang! of steel coming into violent contact with steel. +Mallory's spear struck Sir Galahad's shield dead center--and snapped +in two. Sir Galahad's spear struck Mallory's shield dead center--and +Mallory sailed over Easy Money's croup and crashed to the ground. + +He was stunned, both mentally and physically. Staggering to his feet, +he drew his sword and raised his shield. Sir Galahad had wheeled his +horse around, and now he came riding back. Several yards from Mallory, +he tossed his spear aside, dismounted as lightly as though he wore no +armor at all, drew his sword, and advanced. Mallory stepped forward, +his confidence returning. His spear had been defective--that was it. +But his sword and his shield weren't, and now that the kid had elected +to give him a sporting chance, he would teach the young upstart a +lesson that he would never forget. + +Again, the two men came together. Down came Sir Galahad's sixth +century sword; up went Mallory's twenty-second century shield. There +was an ear-piercing _clang_, and the shield parted down the middle. + +Aghast, Mallory stepped back. Sir Galahad moved in, sword upraised +again. Mallory raised his own sword, caught the full force of the +terrific down-rushing blow on the blade. His sword was cut cleanly in +two, his left pauldron was cleanly cleaved, and a great numbness +afflicted his left shoulder. He went down. + +He stayed down. + +Sir Galahad leaned over him, unbroken sword uplifted. The cross in the +center of the snow-white shield was a bright and burning red. "Ye must +yield you as an overcome man, or else I may slay you." + +"I yield," Mallory said. + +Sir Galahad sheathed his sword. "Ye be not sorely wounded, and sithen +I desire not neither of they two steeds, as belike they be as unworthy +as they pieces, ye can return to thy castle unholpen." + + * * * * * + +Mallory blacked out for a moment, and when he came to, the shining +knight was gone. + +He lay there in the moonlight for some time, looking up at the stars. +At length he fought his way to his feet and encephalopathed the two +rohorses to his side. Mounting Easy Money, he encephalopathed it to +return to the westernmost "castle of Yore" and encephalopathed the +other rohorse to follow. He left his broken weapons where they lay. + +What had gone out of the world during the last sixteen hundred years +that had left sophisticated twenty-second century steel inferior in +quality to naïve sixth-century wrought iron? What did Sir Galahad have +that he, Mallory, lacked? Mallory shook his head. He did not know. + +The moonlit "towers" of the _Yore_ had become visible through the +trees before it occurred to him that before riding away the man just +might have removed the Sangraal from the black rohorse's croup. At +first thought, such a possibility was too absurd to be entertained, +but not on second thought. According to _Le Morte d'Arthur_, the +fellowship of Sir Galahad, Sir Percivale, and Sir Bors had taken both +the table of silver and the Sangraal to Sarras where, some time later, +the Sangraal had been "borne up to heaven", never to be seen again. +Whether they had taken the table of silver did not concern Mallory, +but what did concern him was the fact that if they had taken the +Sangraal they could have done so only if it had fallen into Sir +Galahad's hands this very night. Tomorrow would be too late--now was +too late, in fact--provided, of course, that Mallory was destined to +return with it to the twenty-second century. Here, then, was the +crossroads, the real moment of truth: was he destined to succeed, or +wasn't he? + +Hurriedly, he encephalopathed the two rohorses to halt, dismounted, +and raised the black rohorse's trappings. He was dizzy from the loss +of blood, but he did not let his dizziness dissuade him from his +purpose, and he had the croup-hood raised in a matter of a few +seconds. He held his breath when he looked within, expelled it with +relief. The Sangraal had not been disturbed. + +He lifted it out of the croup-compartment, straightened its red samite +covering, and cradled it in his arms. Too weak to remount Easy Money, +he encephalopathed the two rohorses to follow and began walking toward +the _Yore_. Rowena must have seen him coming on one of the +telewindows, for she had the lock open when he arrived. Her face went +white when she looked at him, and when she saw the Grail, her eyes +grew even larger than plums. He went over and set it gently down on +the rec-hall table, then he collapsed into a nearby chair. He had just +enough presence of mind left to send her for the bottle of +blood-restorer pills, and just enough strength left to swallow several +of them when she brought it. Then he boarded the phantom ship that had +mysteriously appeared beside him and set sail upon the soundless sea +of night. + + +VI + +"No," said the rent-a-mammakin, "you cannot see her. She is +displeased with your score in the get-rich-quick race." + +"I did my best," the boy Mallory sobbed. "But when it came to stepping +on all those faces, I just couldn't do it!" + +The rent-a-mammakin arranged its features into a severe frown and +strengthened its grip on the boy Mallory's arm. "You knew that they +were only painted on the game floor to symbolize the Competitive +Spirit," it said. "Why couldn't you step on them?" + +The boy Mallory made a final desperate effort to gain the bedroom door +which his mother had just slammed and before which the rent-a-mammakin +stood, then he sank defeated to the floor. "I don't know why--I just +couldn't, that's all," he sobbed. He raised his voice. "But I _will_ +step on them! I'll step on real faces too--just you wait and see. I'll +be a bigger get-rich-quickman than my father ever dreamed of being. +I'll show her!" + +"I'll show her," the man Mallory murmured, "just you wait and see." + +He opened his eyes. Save for himself, the bedroom-office was empty. +"Rowena?" + +No answer. + +He raised his voice. "Rowena!" + +Again, no answer. + +He frowned. The door to the bedroom-office was open, and the "castle" +certainly wasn't so large that his voice couldn't carry from one end +of it to the other. + +His shoulder throbbed faintly, but otherwise he was unaware of his +wound. Rowena had bound it neatly--it was said that Age-of-Chivalry +gentlewomen were quite proficient in such matters--and apparently she +had once again got hold of the right counteragent. + +He sat up and swung his feet to the floor. So far, so good. +Tentatively, he stood up. A wave of vertigo broke over him. After it +passed, he was as good as new. The blood-restorer pills had done their +work well. + +Nevertheless, everything was not as it should be. Something was very +definitely wrong. "Rowena!" he called again. + +Still no answer. + +She had removed his armor and piled it neatly at the foot of the bed. +He stared at the various pieces, trying desperately to think. +Something had awakened him--that was it. The slamming of a door ... or +a lock. + +He look a deep breath. He smelled green things. Dampness. A forest at +eventide.... + +He knew then what was wrong. The lock of the _Yore_ had been opened +and had been left open long enough for the evening air to permeate the +interior of the TSB; long enough, in other words, to have permitted +someone to ride across the imaginary drawbridge that spanned the +mirage-moat. Afterward, the lock had slammed back into place of its +own accord. + +He hurried into the rec-hall. Easy Money stood all alone behind the +tourist-bar. The black rohorse was gone. + +His eyes leaped to the rec-hall table. The Sangraal was gone, too. + +He groaned. The little idiot was taking it back! And after he had +forbidden her to leave the "castle" too! Well no, he hadn't forbidden +her exactly: he had forbidden her to leave it _during his absence_. + +He walked over to the telewindow nearest the lock and scrutinized the +screen. She was nowhere in sight, but night was on hand and the range +of his vision, while considerably abetted by the light of the rising +moon, was limited to the nearer trees. + +Presently he frowned. Was it still the same night, or had he been +unconscious for almost twenty-four hours? + +It _couldn't_ be the same night--the position of the moon disproved +that. And yet he could swear that he had been unconscious for no more +than a few hours. + + * * * * * + +Belatedly, he remembered his gauntlet timepiece, and returned to the +bedroom-office. The timepiece registered 10:32. But that didn't make +any sense either: the moon was still low in the sky. + +He knew then that there could be but one answer, and he headed for the +control room posthaste. Sure enough, the jump-board time-dial had been +set for 8:00 p.m. of the same day. He looked at the space-dial. That +had been set to re-materialize the _Yore_ one half mile farther west. + +He wiped his forehead. Good Lord, she might have sent the TSB all the +way back to the Age of Reptiles! Even worse, she might have plunked it +right down in the middle of WWIII! + +She hadn't, though. In point of fact, she had done exactly what she +had set out to do--taken the _Yore_ back to a point in time from which +the Sangraal could be returned to the castle of Carbonek less than an +hour after it had been stolen. + +Suddenly he remembered how she had watched him from the doorway of the +control room each time he had reset the time and space-dials. +Technologically speaking, she was little more than a child, but +jump-boards were as uncomplicated as modern technology could make +them, and a person needed to be but little more than a child to +operate them. + +Grimly, Mallory returned to his bedroom-office and got into his armor; +then, ignoring the throbbing of his reawakened wound, he mounted Easy +Money and set out. He had no weapons, but it could not be helped. With +a little luck, he would have need of none. He was about due for a +little luck, if you asked him. + +He gambled that Rowena would use the same route back to the chamber of +the Sangraal that they had used in leaving it--actually, she had no +other choice--and he encephalo-guided Easy Money at a fast trot in the +direction of the river in the hope of overtaking her before she +reached the entrance to the subterranean passage. However, the hope +did not materialize, and he saw no sign of her till he reached the +entrance himself. Strictly speaking, he saw no sign of her then +either, but he did discern several dislodged stones that could have +been thrown up by the black rohorse's hoofs. + +[Illustration] + +Entering the passage, he frowned. Until that moment, the incongruity +of a sixth-century damosel encephalo-guiding a twenty-second century +rohorse had not struck him. After a moment, though, he had to admit +that the incongruity was not as glaring as it had at first seemed. +"Encephalopathing" was merely a glorified term for "thinking," and +Rowena, shortly after mounting Perfidion's steed, must have made the +discovery that she had only to think where she wanted to go in order +for the rohorse to take her there. + +He had not remembered to bring a light, nor did he need one. The +infra-red rays of Easy Money's eye units were more than sufficient for +the task on hand, and overtaking the girl would have been as easy as +rolling off a log--if she hadn't been riding a rohorse, too. +Overtaking her wasn't of paramount importance anyway: he could +confiscate the Sangraal after she returned it just as easily as he +could before. + +The odd part about the whole thing was that Mallory never once thought +of the inevitable overlap till he saw the flicker of torchlight up +ahead. An instant later he heard the sound of a woman's voice, and +instinctively he encephalo-guided Easy Money into a nearby shallow +cave. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration] + +The flickering light grew gradually brighter, and presently hoofbeats +became audible. The woman's voice was loud and clear now, and Mallory +made out her words above the purling of the underground stream: "... +And then he set down the maiden, and was armed at all pieces save he +lacked his spear. Then he dressed his shield, and drew out his sword, +and Bors smote him so hard that it went through his shield and +habergeon on the left shoulder. And through great strength he beat +him down to the earth, and at the pulling of Bors' spear there he +swooned. Then came Bors to the maid and said: How seemeth it to you of +this knight ye be delivered at this time? Now sir, said she, I pray +you lead me there as this knight had me. So shall I do gladly: and +took the horse of the wounded knight, and set the gentlewoman upon +him, and so brought her as she desired. Sir knight, said she, ye have +better sped than ye weened, for an I had lost my maidenhead, five +hundred men should have died for it. What knight was he that had you +in the forest? By my faith, said she, he is my cousin. So wot I never +with what engyn the fiend enchafed him, for yesterday he took me from +my father privily: for I nor none of my father's men mistrusted him +not, and if he had had my maidenhead he should have died for the sin, +and his body shamed and dishonored for ever. Thus as...." + +At this point, the truth behind the sense of _deja vu_ that Mallory +had experienced the first time he had heard the tale hit him so hard +between the eyes that he jerked back his head. When he did so, his +helmet came into contact with the cave wall and scraped against the +stone. The rohorse and its two riders were directly across the stream +now. "_Shhh!_" Mallory I whispered. + +Rowena I gasped. "It were best that I thanked ye now for thy great +kindness, fair knight," she said, "for anon we be no longer on live." + +"Nonsense!" Mallory I said. "If this fiend of yours is anywhere in the +vicinity, he's probably more afraid of us than we are of him." + +"Per ... peradventure he hath already had meat," Rowena I said +hopefully. "The tale saith that an the fiend be filled he becomes +aweary and besets not them the which do pass him by in peace." + +"I'll keep my sword handy just in case he changes his mind," Mallory I +said. "Meanwhile, get on with your autobiography--only for Pete's +sake, cut it short, will you?" + +"An it please, fair sir. Thus as the fair gentlewoman stood talking +with Sir Bors there came twelve knights seeking after her, and +anon...." + +For a long while after the voices faded away, Mallory IV could not +move. Hearing the story the second time and, more important, hearing +it from the standpoint of an observer, he had been able to identify it +for what it really was--an excerpt from _Le Morte d'Arthur_. The +Joseph of Arimathea bit had been an excerpt, too, he realized now, +probably lifted word for word from the text. It was odd indeed that a +sixth-century damosel who presumably couldn't read could be on such +familiar terms with a book that would not be published for another +nine hundred and forty-three years. + +But not so odd if she was a twenty-second century blonde in a +sixth-century damosel's clothing. + +Remembering Perfidion's secretary, Mallory felt sick. No, there was no +noticeable resemblance between her and the damosel that hight Rowena; +but the removal of a girdle and a quarter of a pound of makeup, not to +mention the application of a "lustre-rich" brown hair-dye and the +insertion of a pair of plum-blue contact lenses, could very well have +brought such a resemblance into being--and quite obviously had. The +Past Police were noted for their impersonations, and most of them had +eidetic memories. + +_Come on, Easy Money_, Mallory encephalopathed. _You and I have got a +little score to settle._ + + * * * * * + +When he entered the chamber of the Sangraal, Rowena IV was arranging +the red samite cover around the Grail. She jumped when she saw him. +"Marry! fair sir, ye did startle me. Methinketh ye be asleep in thy +castle." + +"Knock it off," Mallory said. "The masquerade's over." + +She regarded him with round uncomprehending eyes. He got the +impression that she had been crying. "The ... the masquerade, fair +knight?" + +"That's right ... the masquerade. You're no more the damosel Rowena +than I'm the knight Sir Galahad." + +She lowered her eyes to his breastplate. "I ... I wot well ye be not +Sir Galahad, fair sir. It ... it happed that aforetime I did see Sir +Galahad with my own eyes, and when ye did unlace thy unberere and I +did see thy face, I knew ye could not be him of which ye spake." +Abruptly she raised her head and looked at him defiantly. "But I knew +from thy eyes that ye be most noble, fair sir, and therefore an ye did +pretend to be him the which ye were not, ye did so for noble cause, +and it were not for me to question." + +"I said knock it off," Mallory said, but with considerable less +conviction. "I'm onto you--don't you see? You're a time-fink." + +"A ... a time fink? I wot not what--" + +"An agent of the Past Police. One of those do-gooders who run around +history replacing stolen goods and turning in hard-working people like +myself. You gave yourself away when you lifted that Sir Bors bit +straight out of _Le Morte d'Arthur_ and--" + +"But I did say ye sooth, fair sir. Sir Bors did verily succor my +maidenhead. I wot not how there can be two of ye and two of me and +four hackneys when afore there were but two, and I wot not how by +touching the magic board in thy castle in a certain fashion that I +could make the hour earlier and I wot not how the magic steed I did +bestride brought me hither--I wot not none of these matters, fair sir. +I wot only that the magic of thy castle is marvelous indeed." + +For a while, Mallory didn't say anything. He couldn't. In the +plum-blue eyes fixed full upon his face, truth shone, and that same +truth had invested her every word. The damosel Rowena, despite all +evidence to the contrary and despite the glaring paradox the admission +gave rise to, was not a phony, never had been a phony, and never would +be a phony. She was, as a matter of fact--with the exception of Sir +Galahad--the only completely honest person he had known in all his +life. + +"Tell me," he said, at length, "weren't you afraid to come back +through that passage alone? Weren't you afraid the fiend would get +you?" + +"La! fair sir--I had great fear. But it were not fitting that I +bethought me of myself at such a time." She paused. Then, "What might +be thy true name, sir knight?" + +"Mallory," Mallory said. "Thomas Mallory." + +"I have great joy of thy acquaintance, Sir Thomas." + +Mallory only half heard her. He was looking at the samite-covered +Sangraal. No more obstacles stood between him and his quest, and time +was a-wasting. He started to take a step in the direction of the +silver table. + +His foot did not leave the floor. + + * * * * * + +He was acutely aware of Rowena's eyes. As a matter of fact, he could +almost feel them upon his face. It wasn't that they were any different +than they had been before: it was just that he was suddenly and +painfully cognizant of the trust and the admiration that shone in +them. Despite himself, he had the feeling that he was standing in +bright and blinding sunlight. + +Again, he started to take a step in the direction of the silver table. +Again, his foot did not leave the floor. + +It wasn't so much the fact that she didn't believe he would take the +Sangraal that bothered him: it was the fact that she couldn't conceive +of him taking it. She could be convinced that black was white, +perhaps, and that white was black, and that fiends hung out in empty +caves and castles; but she could never be convinced that a "knight" of +the qualities she imputed to Mallory could perform a dishonorable act. + +And there it was, laid right on the line. For all the good the Grail +was going to do Mallory, it might just as well have been at the bottom +of the Mindanao Deep. + +He sighed. His gamble hadn't paid off any more than Perfidion's had. +The real Sir Galahad was the one who had inherited the Grail after +all--not the false one. The false one grinned ruefully. "Well," he +told the damosel Rowena, "it's been nice knowing you." He swallowed; +for some reason his throat felt tight. "I ... I imagine you'll be all +right now." + +To his amazement she broke into tears. "Oh, Sir Thomas!" she cried. +"In my great haste to return the Sangraal to the chamber and to right +the grievous wrong committed by the untrue knight Sir Jason, I did +bewray my trust again. For when I espied ye and me and Easy Money in +the passage I did suffer a great discomfit, and it so happed that when +my steed did enter into a cave that the Sangraal came free from my +hands and ... and--" + +Mallory was staring at her. "You _dropped_ it?" + +Stepping over to the silver table, she lifted a corner of the red +samite. The dent was not a deep one, but just the same you didn't have +to look twice to see it. "I ... I nyst not what to do," she said. + +Suddenly Mallory remembered the first sound he had heard in the +passage when he and Rowena were leaving the castle of Carbonek. "Well +how do you like that!" he said. He grinned. "I take it that this puts +your hands in jeopardy all over again--right?" + +"Yea, Sir Thomas, but I would lever die than beseech thee again to--" + +"Which," Mallory continued happily, "makes it out of the question for +a knight such as myself to leave you behind." He took her arm. "Come +on," he said. "I don't know how I'm going to fit a sixth-century +damosel into twenty-second century society, but believe me, I'm going +to try!" + +"And ... and will ye take Easy Money to this land whereof ye speak, +Sir Thomas?" + +"Sir Thomas" grinned. "Wit ye well," he said, "and his buddy, too. +Come on." + + * * * * * + +In the _Yore_, he tossed his helmet and gauntlets into a corner of the +rec-hall and proceeded straight to the control room. There, with +Rowena standing at his elbow, he set the time-dial for June 21, 2178 +and the space-dial for the Kansas City Time-Tourist Port. Lord, it +would be good to get home again and get a haircut! "Here goes," he +told Rowena, and threw the switch. + +There was a faint tremor. "Brace yourself, Rowena," he said, and took +her over to the control-room telewindow. + +[Illustration] + +Together, they gazed upon the screen. Mallory gasped. The vista of +spiral suburban dwellings which he had been expecting was not in the +offing. In its stead was a green, tree-stippled countryside. In the +distance, a castle was clearly discernible. + +He stared at it. It wasn't a sixth-century job like Carbonek--it was +much more modern. But it was still a castle. Obviously, the jump-board +had malfunctioned and thrown the _Yore_ only a little ways into the +future, the while leaving it in pretty much the same locale. + +He returned to the jump-board to find out. Just as he reached it, its +lights flickered and went out. The time and space-dials, however, +remained illumined long enough for him to see when and where the TSB +had re-materialized. The year was 1428 A.D.; the locale, Warwickshire. + +Mallory made tracks for the generator room. The generator was smoking, +and the room reeked with the stench of shorted wires. + +He swore. Perfidion! + +So that was why the man had broken with tradition and invited a common +time-thief to a game of golp! + +If he had been anyone but Perfidion he would have gimmicked the +controls of the _Yore_ so that Mallory would have wound up directly in +the fifteenth century sans sojourn in the sixth. But being Perfidion, +he had wanted Mallory to know how completely he was being outsmarted. +The chances were, though, that if the man had anticipated the +near-coincidence of the two visits to the chamber of the Sangraal he +would have seen to it that Mallory had never gotten a chance to use +his Sir Galahad suit. + +Returning to the control room, Mallory saw that the lumillusion panel had +been pre-programmed to materialize the _Yore_ as a fifteenth-century +English castle. Apparently it had been in the books all along for him to +become a fifteenth-century knight, just as it had been in the books all +along for Perfidion to become the proprietor of a misplaced hot-dog stand. + +Mallory laughed. He had gotten the best of the bargain after all. At +least there was no smog in the fifteenth century. + +Who was he supposed to be? he wondered. Had his name gone down in +history by any chance? + +Abruptly he gasped. Was _he_ the Sir Thomas Malory with estates in +Northampshire and Warwickshire? Was _he_ the Sir Thomas Malory who had +compiled and translated and written _Le Morte d'Arthur_? Almost +nothing about the man's life was known, and probably the little that +was known had been assumed. He _could_ have popped up from nowhere, +made his fortune through foreknowledge, and been knighted. He _could_ +have been a reformed time-thief stranded in the fifteenth century. + +But if he, Mallory, was Malory, how in the world was he going to get +five hundred chapters of semi-historical data together and pass them +off as _Le Morte d'Arthur_? + +Suddenly he understood everything. + + * * * * * + +Going over to where Rowena was still standing in front of the +telewindow, he said, "I'll bet you know no end of stories about the +doings of the knights of the Table Round." + +"La! Sir Thomas. Ever I saw day of my life I have heard naught else in +the court of my father." + +"Tell me," Mallory said, "how did this Round Table business begin? Or, +better yet, how did the Grail business begin? We can take up the Round +Table business later on." + +She thought for a moment. Then, "List, fair sir, and I will say ye: At +the vigil of Pentecost, when all the fellowship of the Round Table +were come unto Camelot and there heard their service, and the tables +were set ready to the meat, right so entered into the hall a full fair +gentlewoman on horseback, that had ridden full fast, for her horse was +all besweated. Then she there alit, and came before the king and +saluted him; and he said: Damosel, God thee bless. Sir, said she, for +God's sake say me where Sir Launcelot is. Yonder ye may see him, said +the king. Then she went unto Launcelot and said: Sir Launcelot, I +salute you on King Pelles' behalf, and I require you to come on with +me hereby into a forest. Then Sir Launcelot asked her with whom she +dwelled. I dwell, said she, with King Pelles. What will ye with me? +said Launcelot. Ye shall know, said she, when ye--" + +"That'll do for now," Mallory interrupted. "We'll come back to it as +soon as I get stocked up on paper and ink. Scheherazade," he added. + +"Scheherazade, Sir Thomas? I wot not--" + +He leaned down and kissed her. "There's no need for you to wot," he +said. Probably, he reflected, he would have to do a certain amount of +research in order to record the happenings that had ensued his and +Rowena's departure, and undoubtedly said research would result +ironically in the recording of the true visits of Sirs Galahad and +Launcelot to the chamber of the Sangraal--the "time-slots" on which he +and Perfidion had gambled and lost their shirts. The main body of the +work, however, had been deposited virtually on his lap, and its style +and flavor had been arbitrarily determined. Moreover, contrary to what +history would later maintain, the job would not be done in prison, but +right here in the "castle of Yore" with Rowena sitting--and +dictating--beside him. As for the impossibility of giving a +sixth-century damosel as his major source, that could be avoided--as +in one sense it already had been--my making frequent allusions to +imaginary French sources. And as for the main obstacle to the +endeavor--his twenty-second century cynicism--that had been obviated +during his encounter with Sir Galahad. + +The book wouldn't be published till 1485, but just the same, he was +keen to get started on it. Writing it should be fun. Which reminded +him: "I know we haven't known each other very long in one sense, +Rowena," he said, "but in another, we've known each other for almost +nine hundred years. Will you marry me?" + +She blinked once. Then her plum-blue eyes showed how truly blue they +could become and she threw her arms around his gorget. "Wit ye well, +Sir Thomas," said she, "that there is nothing in the world but I would +lever do than be thy bride!" + +_Thus did the prose epic known +successively as "La Mort d'Arthur," +THE MOST ANCIENT +AND FAMOUS HISTORY OF THE +RENOWNED PRINCE ARTHUR, +KING OF BRITAINE, +AS ALSO, ALL THE NOBLE ACTS, +AND HEROICKE DEEDS +OF HIS VALIANT KNIGHTS +OF THE ROUND TABLE, +and "Le Morte d'Arthur" +come to be recorded._ + + * * * * * + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Knyght Ther Was, by Robert F. 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Young + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; background-color: #FFFFFF; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +.tr {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 2em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: dotted black 1px;} + + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 15%; + margin-right: 20%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.p1 { margin-left:60%; } +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-right: 0.25em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +.figright { + float: right; + clear: right; + margin-left: 1em; + margin-bottom: + 1em; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-right: 0; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + +/* Poetry */ +.poem { + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align: left; +} + +.poem br {display: none;} + +.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + +.poem span.i0 { + display: block; + margin-left: 10em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i2 { + display: block; + margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +/* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Knyght Ther Was, by Robert F. Young + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Knyght Ther Was + +Author: Robert F. Young + +Illustrator: Leo Summers + +Release Date: January 14, 2010 [EBook #30963] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A KNYGHT THER WAS *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="tr"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:</p> +<p class="center">This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction July 1963. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p></div> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image_001.jpg" width="500" height="447" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p> </p> +<h1>A Knyght Ther Was</h1> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>But the Knyght was a little less than Perfect, and his +horse did not have a metabolism, and his "castle" was much +more mobile—timewise!—than it had any business being!</i></p></div> +<p> </p> +<h2>by Robert F. Young</h2> +<p> </p> +<h3><i>Illustrated by Leo Summers</i></h3> +<p> </p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>A Knyght ther was, and that a worthy man,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That fro the tyme that he first bigan</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To ryden out, he loved chivalrye,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisye</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="p1">—THE CANTERBURY TALES</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>I</h2> + +<p>Mallory, who among other things was a time-thief, re-materialized the +time-space boat <i>Yore</i> in the eastern section of a secluded valley in +ancient Britain and typed CASTLE, EARLY SIXTH-CENTURY on the +lumillusion panel. Then he stepped over to the control-room telewindow +and studied the three-dimensional screen. The hour was 8:00 p.m.; the +season, summer; the Year 542 A.D.</p> + +<p>Darkness was on hand, but there was a full moon rising and he could +see trees not far away—oaks and beeches, mostly. Roving the eye of +the camera, he saw more trees of the same species. The "castle of +Yore" was safely ensconced in a forest. Satisfied, he turned away.</p> + +<p>If his calculations were correct, the castle of Carbonek stood in the +next valley to the south, and on a silver table in a chamber of the +castle stood the object of his quest.</p> + +<p><i>If</i> his calculations were correct.</p> + +<p>Mallory was not one to keep himself in suspense. Stepping into the +supply room, he stripped down to his undergarments and proceeded to +get into the custom-built suit of armor which he had purchased +expressly for the operation. Fortunately, while duplication of early +sixth-century design had been mandatory, there had been no need to +duplicate early sixth-century materials, and sollerets, spurs, +greaves, cuisses, breastplate, pauldrons, gorget, arm-coverings, +gauntlets, helmet, and chain-mail vest had all been fashioned of +light-weight alloys that lent ten times as much protection at ten +times less poundage. The helmet was his particular pride and joy: in +keeping with the period-piece after which it had been patterned, it +looked like an upside-down metal wastepaper basket, but the one-way +transparency of the special alloy that had gone into its construction +gave him unrestricted vision, while two inbuilt audio-amplifiers +performed a corresponding service for his hearing.</p> + +<p>The outer surface of each piece had been burnished to a high degree, +and he found himself a dazzling sight indeed when he looked into the +supply-room mirror. This effect was enhanced no end when he buckled on +his chrome-plated scabbard and red-hilted sword and hung his +snow-white shield around his neck. His polished spear, when he stood +it beside him, was almost anticlimactic. It shouldn't have been. It +was a good three and one-half inches in diameter at the base, and it +was as tall as a young flagpole.</p> + +<p>As he stood there looking at his reflection, the red cross in the +center of the shield took on the hue of freshly-shed blood. The +period-piece expert who had designed the shield had insisted on the +illusion, saying that it made for greater authenticity, and Mallory +hadn't argued with him. He was glad now that he hadn't. Raising the +visor of his helmet, he winked at himself and said, "I hereby christen +ye 'Sir Galahad'."</p> + +<p>Next, he bethought himself of his steed. Armor clanking, he left the +supply room and walked down the short passage to the rec-hall. The +rec-hall occupied the entire forward section of the TSB and had been +designed solely for the benefit of the time-tourists whom Mallory +regularly conducted on past-tours as a cover-up for the illegal +activities which he pursued in between trips. In the present instance, +however, the hall went quite well with the <i>Yore's</i> lumillusioned +exterior, possessing, with its gallery-like mezzanine, its long snack +table, and its imitation flagstone flooring, an early sixth-century +aspect of its own—an aspect marred only slightly by the +"anachronistic" telewindows inset at regular intervals along the +walls.</p> + +<p>Mallory's steed stood in a stall-like enclosure that was formed by the +tourist-bar and one of the walls, and it was a splendid "beast" +indeed—as splendid a one as the twenty-second century robotics +industry was capable of creating. Originally, Mallory had planned on +bringing a real horse with him, but as this would have necessitated +his having to learn how to ride, he had decided against it. The +decision had been a wise one: "Easy Money" looked more like a horse +than most real horses did, could travel twice as fast, and was as easy +to ride and to maneuver as a golp jetney. It was light-brown in color +with a white diamond on its forehead, it was equipped with a secret +croup-compartment and an inbuilt saddle, and its fetlock-length +trappings were made of genuine synthisilk threaded with gold. It wore +no armor—it did not need to: weapons manufactured during the Age of +Chivalry could no more penetrate its "hide" than a tooth pick could.</p> + +<p><i>Come on, Easy Money</i>, Mallory encephalopathed. <i>You and I have a +little job to do.</i></p> + +<p>The rohorse emitted several realistic whinnies, backed out of its +"stall", trotted smartly over to his side, and nuzzled his right +pauldron. Mallory mounted—not gracefully, it is true, but at least +without the aid of the winch he would have needed if his armor had +been manufactured in the sixth century—and inserted the red pommel of +his spear in the stirrup socket. Then, activating the <i>Yore's</i> lock, +he rode across the imaginary drawbridge that spanned the mirage-moat, +and set forth into the forest. As the "portcullis" closed behind him, +symbolically bringing phase one of Operation Sangraal to a close, he +thought of Jason Perfidion.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall fireplace in +the big balconied room, Perfidion said, "Mallory, you're wasting your +time. Worse, you're wasting mine."</p> + +<p>The room climaxed a vertical series of slightly less sumptuous +chambers known collectively as the Perfidion Tower, and the Perfidion +Tower stood with a score of balconied brothers on a blacktop island in +the exact center of Kansas' largest golp course. A short distance from +the fraternal gathering stood yet another tower—the false tower into +which Mallory had lumillusioned his TSB upon his arrival. On the Golp +Terrace, as the blacktop island was called, everyone and everything +conformed—or else.</p> + +<p>The room itself was known to time-thieves as "Perfidion's Lair". And yet +there was nothing about Jason Perfidion—nothing physical, that is—that +suggested the predator. He was Mallory's age—thirty-three—tall, dark of +hair, and strikingly handsome. He looked like—and was—a highly +successful businessman with a triplex on Get-Rich-Quick Street, and he +gave the impression that he was as honest as the day was long. Just the +same, the predator was there, and if you were alert enough you could +sometimes glimpse it peering out through the smoky windowpanes of his +eyes.</p> + +<p>It wasn't peering out now, though. It was sleeping. However, it was +due to wake up any second. "Then you're not interested in fencing the +Holy Grail?" Mallory asked.</p> + +<p>Annoyance intensified the slight swarthiness of Perfidion's cheeks. +"Mallory, you know as well as I do that the Grail never really +existed, that it was nothing more than the mead-inspired daydream of a +bunch of quixotic knights. So go and get your hair cut and forget +about it."</p> + +<p>"But suppose it <i>did</i> exist," Mallory insisted. "Suppose, tomorrow +afternoon at this time, I were to come in here and set it down on this +desk here? How much could you get for it?"</p> + +<p>Perfidion laughed. "How much <i>couldn't</i> I get for it! Why, without +even stopping to think I can name you a dozen collectors who'd give +their right arm for it."</p> + +<p>"I'm not interested in right arms," Mallory said. "I'm interested in +dollars. How many Kennedees could you get for it?"</p> + +<p>"A megamillion—maybe more. More than enough, certainly, to permit you +to retire from time-lifting and to take up residence on Get-Rich-Quick +Street. But it doesn't exist, and it never did, so get out of here, +Mallory, and stop squandering my valuable time."</p> + +<p>Mallory withdrew a small stereophoto from his breast pocket and +tossed it on the desk. "Have a look at that first—then I'll go," he +said.</p> + +<p>Perfidion picked up the photo. "An ordinary enough yellow bowl," he +began, and stopped. Suddenly he gasped, and jabbed one of the many +buttons that patterned his desktop. Seconds later, a svelte blonde +whom Mallory had never seen before stepped out of the lift tube. Like +most general-purpose secretaries, she wore a maximum of makeup and a +minimum of clothing, and moved in an aura of efficiency and sex. "Get +me my photo-projector, Miss Tyler," Perfidion said.</p> + +<p>When she returned with it, he set it on his desk and inserted the +stereophoto. Instantly, a huge cube materialized in the center of the +room. Inside the cube there was a realistic image of a resplendent +silver table, and upon the image of the table stood an equally +realistic image of a resplendent golden bowl. Perfidion gasped again.</p> + +<p>"Unusual workmanship, wouldn't you say?" Mallory said.</p> + +<p>Perfidion turned toward the blonde. "You may go, Miss Tyler."</p> + +<p>She was staring at the contents of the cube and apparently did not +hear him. "I said," he repeated, "that you may go, Miss Tyler."</p> + +<p>"Oh. Yes ... yes sir."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>When the lift-tube door closed behind her, Perfidion turned to +Mallory. For a fraction of a second the predator was visible behind +the smoky windowpanes of his eyes; then, quickly, it ducked out of +sight. "Where was this taken, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"It's a distance-shot," Mallory said. "I took it through one of the +windows of the church Joseph of Arimathea built in Glastonbury."</p> + +<p>"But how did you know—"</p> + +<p>"That it was there? Because it <i>had</i> to be there. Some time ago, while +escorting a group of tourists around ancient Britain, I happened to +witness Joseph of Arimathea's landing—and happened to catch a glimpse +of what he brought with him. I used to think that the Grail was a pipe +dream, too, but when I saw it with my own eyes, I knew that it +couldn't have been. However, I knew I'd need evidence to convince you, +so I jumped back to a later place-time and got a shot of it."</p> + +<p>"But why a shot, Tom? Why didn't you lift it then and there?"</p> + +<p>"You concede that it is the Grail then?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it's the Grail—there's not the slightest question about +it. Why didn't you lift it?"</p> + +<p>"Well, for one thing, I wanted to make sure that lifting it would be +worth my while, and for another, Glastonbury wasn't the logical +place-time from which to lift it, because, assuming that the rest of +the legend is also true, it was seen after that place-time. No +time-thief ever bucked destiny yet and came out the winner, Jason; I +play my percentages."</p> + +<p>"I know you do, Tom. You're one of the best time-lift men in the +business, and the Past Police would be the first to admit it.... I +daresay you've already pinpointed the key place-time?"</p> + +<p>Mallory grinned, showing his white teeth. "I certainly have, but if +you think I'm going to divulge it, you're sadly mistaken, Jason. And +stop looking at my hair—it won't tell you anything beyond the fact +that I've been using Hair-haste. Shoulder-length hair was the rage in +more eras than one."</p> + +<p>Perfidion smiled warmly, and clapped Mallory on the back. "I'm not +trying to ferret out your secret, Tom. I know better than that. +Lifting is your line, fencing mine. You bring me the Grail, I'll sell +it, take my cut, and everything will be fine. You know me, Tom."</p> + +<p>"I sure do," Mallory said, taking the stereophoto out of the projector +and returning it to his breast pocket.</p> + +<p>Perfidion snapped his fingers. "A happy thought just occurred to me! +I've got a golp date with Rowley of Puriproducts, so why don't you +join us, Tom? You play a pretty good game, as I recall."</p> + +<p>Mollified, Mallory said, "I'll have to borrow a set of your +jetsticks."</p> + +<p>"I'll get them for you on the way down. Come on, Tom."</p> + +<p>Mallory accompanied him across the room. "Keep mum about this to +Rowley now," Perfidion said confidentially. "He's a potential +customer, but we don't want to let the cat out of the bag yet, do we? +Or should I say 'the Grail'." He took time out to grin at his little +joke, then, "By the way, Tom, I take it you're all set as regards +costume, equipment and the like."</p> + +<p>"I've got the sweetest little suit of armor you ever laid eyes on," +Mallory said.</p> + +<p>"Fine—no need for me to offer any advice in that respect then." +Perfidion opened the lift door. "After you, Tom."</p> + +<p>They plummeted down the tube together.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It had been a good game of golp—from Mallory's standpoint, anyway. He +had trounced Rowley roundly, and he would have inflicted similar +ignominy upon Perfidion had not the latter been called away in the +middle of the game and been unable to return till it was nearly over. +Oh well, Mallory thought, encephalo-guiding his rohorse through the +ancient forest, there'll be other chances. Aloud, he said, "Step +lively now, Easy Money, and let's get this caper over with so we can +return to civilization and start feeling what it's like to be rich."</p> + +<p>In response to the encephalo-waves that had accompanied his words, +Easy Money increased its pace, the infra-red rays of its eye units +illumining its way. In places, light from the rising moon seeped +through the foliage, but otherwise darkness was the rule. The air was +cool and damp—the sea was not far distant—and the sound of frogs and +insects was omnipresent and now and then there was the rustling sound +of some small and fleeing forest creature.</p> + +<p>Presently the ground began to rise, and not long afterward the trees +thinned out temporarily and rohorse and rider emerged on the moonlit +crest of the ridge that separated the two valleys. In the distance +Mallory made out the moon-gilt towers and turrets of a large castle, +and knew it to be Carbonek beyond a doubt. He sighed with relief. He +was all set now—provided his masquerade went over. Conversely, if it +didn't go over he was finished: his sword and his spear were his only +weapons, and his shield and his armor, his only protection. True, each +article was superior in quality and durability to its corresponding +article in the Age of Chivalry, but otherwise none of them was +anything more than what it seemed. Mallory might be a time-thief; but +within the framework of his profession he believed in playing fair.</p> + +<p>In response to his encephalopathed directions, Easy Money picked its +way down the slope of the ridge and re-entered the forest. Not long +afterward it stepped onto what was euphemistically referred to in that +day and age as a "highway" but which in reality was little more than a +wide, hoof-trampled lane. As Mallory's entire plan of action was based +on boldness, he spurned the shadows of the bordering oaks and beeches +and encephalopathed the rohorse to keep to the center of the lane. He +met no one, however, despite the earliness of the hour, nor had he +really expected to. It was highly improbable that any freemen would be +abroad after dark, and as for the knight-errants who happened to be in +the neighborhood, it was highly improbable that any of them would be +abroad after dark either.</p> + +<p>He grinned. To read <i>Le Morte d'Arthur,</i> you'd think that the chivalry +boys had been in business twenty-four hours a day, slaying ogres, +rescuing fair damosels, and searching for the Sangraal; but not if you +read between the lines. Mallory had read "Arthur" only cursorily, but +he had had a hunch all along that in the majority of cases the quest +for the Sangraal had served as an out, and that the knights of the +Table Round had spent more time wenching and wassailing than they had +conducting their so-called dedicated search, and the hunch had played +an important role in the shaping of his strategy.</p> + +<p>The highway turned this way and that, never pursuing a straight course +unless such a logical procedure was unavoidable. Once, he thought he +heard hoofbeats up ahead, but he met no one, and not long afterward he +saw the pale pile of Carbonek looming above the trees to his left, and +encephalo-guided Easy Money into the lane that led to the entrance. +There was no moat, but the portcullis was an imposing one. Flanking it +on either side was a huge stone lion, and framing it were flaming +torches in regularly-spaced niches. Warders in hauberk and helmet +looked down from the lofty wall, their halberds gleaming in the +dancing torchlight. Mallory swallowed: the moment of truth had +arrived.</p> + +<p>He halted Easy Money and canted his white shield so that the red +cross in its center would be visible from above. Then he marshalled +his smattering of Old English. "I hight Sir Galahad of the Table +Round," he called out in as bold a voice as he could muster. "I would +rest my eyes upon the Sangraal."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Instantly, confusion reigned upon the wall as the warders vied with +one another for the privilege of operating the cumbersome windlass +that raised and lowered the portcullis, and presently, to the +accompaniment of a chorus of creaks and groans and scrapings, the +ponderous iron grating began to rise. Mallory forced himself to wait +until it had risen to a height befitting a knight of Sir Galahad's +caliber, then he rode through the gateway and into the courtyard, +congratulating himself on the effectiveness of his impersonation.</p> + +<p>"Ye will come unto the chamber of the Sangraal sixty paces down the +corridor to thy left eftsoon ye enter the chief fortress, sir knight," +one of the warders called down. "An ye had arrived a little while +afore, ye had encountered Sir Launcelot du Lake, the which did come +unto the fortress and enter in, wherefrom he came out anon and +departed."</p> + +<p>Mallory would have wiped his forehead if his forehead had been +accessible and if his hands had not been encased in metal gloves. +Fooling the warders was one thing, but passing himself off as Sir +Galahad to the man who was Sir Galahad's father would have been quite +another. He had learned from the pages of his near-namesake's "Arthur" +that Sir Launcelot had visited Carbonek before Sir Galahad had, but +the pages had not revealed whether the time-lapse had involved +minutes, hours, or years, and for that matter, Mallory wasn't +altogether certain whether the second visit they described had been +the real Sir Galahad's, which meant failure, or a romanticized version +of his own, which meant success. His near-namesake was murky at best, +and reading him you were never sure where anybody was, or when any +given event was taking place.</p> + +<p>The courtyard was empty, and after crossing it, Mallory dismounted, +encephalopathed Easy Money to stay put, and climbed the series of +stone steps that led to the castle proper. Entering the building +unchallenged, he found himself at the junction of three corridors. The +main one stretched straight ahead and debouched into a large hall. The +other two led off at right angles, one to the left and one to the +right. Boisterous laughter emanated from the hall, and he could see +knights and other nobles sitting at a long banquet table. Scattered +among them were gentlewomen in rich silks, and hovering behind them +were servants bearing large demijohns. He grinned. Just as he had +figured—King Pelles was throwing a whingding.</p> + +<p>Quickly, Mallory turned down the left-hand corridor and started along +it, counting his footsteps. Rushes rustled beneath his feet, and the +flickering light of wall-torches gave him a series of grotesque +shadows. He saw no one: all the servants were in the banquet hall, +pouring wine and mead. He laughed aloud.</p> + +<p>Forty-eight paces sufficed to see him to the chamber door. It was a +perfectly ordinary door. Opening it, he thought at first that the room +beyond was ordinary, too. Then he saw the burning candles arranged +along the walls, and beneath them, standing in the center of the +floor, the table of silver. The table of the Sangraal....</p> + +<p>There was no Sangraal on the table, however. There was no Sangraal in +the room, for that matter. There was a girl, though. She was huddled +forlornly in a corner, and she was crying.</p> + + +<h2>II</h2> + +<p>Mallory laid his spear aside, strode across the room, and raised the +girl to her feet. "The Sangraal," he said, forgetting in his agitation +the few odds and ends of Old English he had memorized. "Where is it!"</p> + +<p>She raised startled eyes that were as round, and almost as large, as +plums. Her face was round, too, and faintly childlike. Her hair was +dark-brown, and done up in a strange and indeterminate coiffeur that +was as charming as it was disconcerting. Her ankle-length dress was +white, and there was a bow on the bodice that matched the +plum-blueness of her eyes. A few cosmetics, properly applied, would +have turned her into an attractive woman, and even without them, she +rated a second look.</p> + +<p>She stared at him for some time, then, "Surely ye be an advision, +sir," she said. "I ... I know ye not."</p> + +<p>Mallory swung his shield around so that she could see the red cross. +"Now do you know me?"</p> + +<p>She gasped, and her eyes grew even rounder. "Sir ... Sir Galahad! Oh, +fair knight, wherefore did ye not say?"</p> + +<p>Mallory ignored the question. "The Sangraal," he repeated. "Where is +it?"</p> + +<p>Her tears had ceased temporarily; now they began again. "Oh, fair +sir!" she cried, "ye see tofore you, a damosel at mischief, the which +was given guardianship of the Holy Vessel at her own request, and +bewrayed her trust, a damosel—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind all that," Mallory said. "Where's the Sangraal?"</p> + +<p>"I wot not, fair sir."</p> + +<p>"But you must know if you were guarding it!"</p> + +<p>"I wot not whither it was taken."</p> + +<p>"But you must wot who took it."</p> + +<p>"Wot I well, fair knight. Sir Launcelot, the which is thy father, bare +it from the chamber."</p> + +<p>Mallory was stunned. "But that's impossible! My fa—Sir Launcelot +wouldn't steal the Sangraal!"</p> + +<p>"Well I wot, fair sir; yet steal it he did. Came he unto the chamber +and saith, I hight Sir Launcelot du Lake of the Table Round, whereat I +did see his armor to be none other; so then took he the Vessel +covered with the red samite and bare it with him from the chamber, +whereat I—"</p> + +<p>"How long ago?"</p> + +<p>"But a little while afore eight of the clock. Sithen I have wept. I +know now no good knight, nor no good man. And I know from thy holy +shield and from they good name that thou art a good knight, and I +beseech ye therefore to help me, for ye be a shining knight indeed, +wherefore ye ought not to fail no damosel which is in distress, and +she besought you of help."</p> + +<p>Mallory only half heard her. Sir Launcelot was too much with him. It +was inconceivable that a knight of such noble principles would even +consider touching the Sangraal, to say nothing of making off with it. +Maybe, though, his principles hadn't been quite as noble as they had +been made out to be. He had been Queen Guinevere's paramour, hadn't +he? He had lain with the fair Elaine, hadn't he? When you came right +down to it, he could very well have been a scoundrel at heart all +along—a scoundrel whose true nature had been toned down by writers +like Malory and poets like Tennyson. All of which, while it strongly +suggested that he was capable of stealing the Sangraal, threw not the +slightest light on his reason for having done so. Mallory was right +back where he had started from.</p> + +<p>He turned to the girl. "You said something about needing my help. What +do you want me to do?"</p> + +<p>Instantly, her tears stopped and she clasped her hands together and +looked at him with worshipful eyes. "Oh, fair sir, ye be most kind +indeed! Well I wot from thy shining armor that ye—"</p> + +<p>"Knock it off," Mallory said.</p> + +<p>"Knock it off? I wot not what—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind. Just tell me what you want me to do."</p> + +<p>"Ye must bear me from the castle, fair sir, or the king learns I have +bewrayed my trust and wreaks his wrath upon me. And then ye must help +me regain the Holy Cup and return it to this chamber."</p> + +<p>"We'll worry about getting the Cup back after we're beyond the walls," +Mallory said, starting for the door. "Come on—they're all in the +banquet hall and as drunk as lords—they won't even see us go by."</p> + +<p>She hung back. "But the warders, fair sir—they be not enchafed. And +King Pelles, by my own wish, did forbid them to pass me."</p> + +<p>Mallory stared at her. "By your own wish! Well of all the crazy—" +Abruptly he dropped the subject. "All right then—how <i>do</i> we get out +of here?"</p> + +<p>"There lieth beneath the fortress and the forest a parlous passage +wherein dwells the fiend, the which I have much discomfit of. But with +ye aside me, fair knight, there is naught to fear."</p> + +<p>Mallory had read enough Malory to be able to take sixth-century fiends +in his stride. "I'll have to take my horse along," he said. "Is there +room for it to pass?"</p> + +<p>"Yea, fair sir. The tale saith that aforetime many knights did ride +out beneath the fortress and the forest and did smite the Saxons, +Saracens, and Pagans, the which did compass the castle about, from +behind, whereupon the battle was won."</p> + +<p>Mallory stepped outside the chamber, the girl just behind him, and +encephalopathed the necessary directions. After a moment, Easy Money +came trotting down the corridor to his side. The girl gasped, and, to +his astonishment, threw her arms around the rohorse's neck. "He is a +noble steed indeed, fair sir," she said; "and worthy of a knight +fitting to sit in the Siege Perilous." Presently she stepped back, +frowning. "He ... he is most cold, fair sir."</p> + +<p>"All horses of that breed are," Mallory explained. "Incidentally, his +name is 'Easy Money'."</p> + +<p>"La! such a strange name."</p> + +<p>"Not so strange." Mallory raised his visor, making a mental note to +see to it that any and all suits of armor he might buy in the future +were air-conditioned. He got his spear. "Let's be on our way, shall +we?"</p> + +<p>"Ye ... ye have blue eyes, fair sir."</p> + +<p>"Never mind the color of my eyes—let's get out of here."</p> + +<p>She seemed to make up her mind about something. "An ye will follow me, +sir knight," she said, and started down the corridor.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>A ramp, the entrance of which was camouflaged by a rotating section of +the inner castle wall, gave access to the subterranean passage. The +passage itself, in the flickering light of the torch that the girl had +brought along, appeared at first to be nothing more than a natural +cave enlarged through the centuries by the stream that still flowed +down its center. Presently, however, Mallory saw that in certain +places the stone walls had been cut back in such a way that the space +on either side of the stream never narrowed to a width of less than +four feet. He saw other evidence of human handiwork too—dungeons. +They were little more than shallow caves now, though, their iron +gratings having rusted and fallen away.</p> + +<p>After proceeding half a hundred yards, he paused. "I don't know what +we're walking for when we've got a perfectly good horse at our +disposal," he told the girl. "Come on, I'll help you into the saddle +and I'll jump on behind."</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "No, fair knight, it is not fitting for a +gentlewoman to ride tofore her champion. Ye will mount, and I will +ride behind."</p> + +<p>"Suit yourself," Mallory said. He climbed into the saddle with a clank +and a clatter, and helped her up on Easy Money's croup. "By the way, +you never did tell me your name."</p> + +<p>"I hight the damosel Rowena."</p> + +<p>"Pleased to meet you," Mallory said. <i>Giddy-ap, Easy Money</i>, he +encephalopathed.</p> + +<p>They rode in silence for a little while, the light from Rowena's torch +dancing acappella rigadoons on bare walls and dripping ceilings, Easy +Money's hoofbeats hardly audible above the purling of the stream. +Presently Rowena said, "It were best that ye drew out thy sword, fair +sir, for anon the fiend will beset us."</p> + +<p>"He hasn't beset us yet," Mallory pointed out.</p> + +<p>"La! fair sir, he will."</p> + +<p>He saw no harm in humoring her, and did as she had suggested. "You +mentioned something a while back about having been given guardianship +of the Sangraal at your own request," he said. "How did that come +about?"</p> + +<p>"List, fair sir, and I will tell ye. But first I must tell ye of Sir +Bors de Ganis, of which Sir Lionel is brother. It happed one day that +Sir Bors did ride into a forest in the Kingdom of Mennes unto the hour +of midday, and there befell him a marvelous adventure. So he met at +the departing of the two ways two knights that led Lionel, his +brother, all naked, bounden upon a strong hackney, and his hands +bounden tofore his breast. And every each of them held in his hands +thorns wherewith they went beating him so sore that the blood trailed +down more than in an hundred places of his body, so that he was all +blood tofore and behind, but he said never a word; as he which was +great of heart he suffered all that ever they did to him as though he +had felt none anguish.</p> + +<p>"Anon Sir Bors dressed him to rescue him that was his brother; and so +he looked upon the other side of him, and saw a knight which brought a +fair gentlewoman, and would have set her in the thickest place of the +forest for to have been the more surer out of the way from them that +sought him. And she which was nothing assured cried with a high voice: +'Saint Mary succor your maid.' And anon she espied where Sir Bors came +riding. And when she came nigh him she deemed him a knight of the +Round Table, whereof she hoped to have some comfort; and then she +conjured him: By the faith that he ought unto him in whose service +thou art entered in, and for the faith ye owe unto the high order of +knighthood, and for the noble King Arthur's sake, that I suppose that +made thee knight, that thou help me, and suffer me not to be shamed of +this knight. When—"</p> + +<p>"Just a minute," Mallory interrupted, thoroughly bewildered and +simultaneously afflicted with an irrational sense of <i>deja vu</i>. "This +gentlewoman you speak of—would she by any chance be you?"</p> + +<p>"Wit ye well, fair sir. When—"</p> + +<p>"But if she's you, why don't you use the first person singular instead +of the third?"</p> + +<p>"I wot not what—"</p> + +<p>"Why don't you use 'I' instead of 'she' when you refer to yourself +directly?"</p> + +<p>"It would not be fitting, fair knight. When Bors heard her say thus he +had so much sorrow there he nyst not what to do. For if I let my +brother be in adventure he must be slain, and that would I not for all +the earth. And if I help not the maid she is shamed for ever, and +also she shall lose her virginity the which she shall never get again. +Then lift he up his eyes and said weeping: Fair sweet Lord, whose +liege man I am, keep Lionel, my brother, that these knights slay him +not, and for pity of you, and for Mary's sake, I shall succor this +maid. Then dressed he him unto the knight the which had the +gentlewoman, and then—"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Hist!" Mallory whispered. "I heard something."</p> + +<p>For a moment the light flared wildly as though she had nearly dropped +the torch. "Wh ... whence came the sound, fair knight?"</p> + +<p>"From the other side of the stream." He peered into the vacillating +shadows, but saw nothing but the darker shadows of one of the +innumerable man-made caves. The sound he had heard had brought to mind +the dull clang that metal makes when it collides with stone, and it +had been so faint as to have been barely audible above the purling of +the stream. Thinking back, he was not altogether certain that he had +heard it at all. "My imagination's getting the best of me, I guess," +he said presently. "There's no one there."</p> + +<p>Her warm breath penetrated the crevices of his gorget and fanned the +back of his neck. "Ye ... ye ween not that it could have been the +fiend prowling?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I ween not! Relax, and finish your story. But get to the +point, will you?"</p> + +<p>"An ... an it so please.... And then Sir Bors cried: Sir knight, let +your hand off that maiden, or ye be but dead. And then he set down the +maiden, and was armed at all pieces save he lacked his spear. Then he +dressed his shield, and drew out his sword, and Bors smote him so hard +that it went through his shield and habergeon on the left shoulder. +And through great strength he beat him down to the earth, and at the +pulling out of Bors' spear there he swooned. Then came Bors to the +maid and said: How seemeth it to you of this knight ye be delivered at +this time? Now sir, said she, I pray you lead me there as this knight +had me. So shall I do gladly: and took the horse of the wounded +knight, and set the gentlewoman upon him, and so brought her as she +desired. Sir knight, said she, ye have better sped than ye weened, for +an I had lost my maidenhead, five hundred men should have died for it. +What knight was he that had you in the forest? By my faith, said she, +he is my cousin. So wot I never with what engyn the fiend enchafed +him, for yesterday he took me from my father privily; for I nor none +of my father's men mistrusted him not, and if he had had my maidenhead +he should have died for the sin, and his body shamed and dishonored +for ever. Thus as—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Shhh!</i>"</p> + +<p>This time, Mallory was certain that he had heard something. The sound +had had much in common with the previous sound, except that it had +suggested metal scraping against, rather than colliding with, stone. +Directly across the stream was another cave, this one shallow enough +to permit the torchlight to penetrate its deeper shadows, and looking +into those shadows, he caught a faint gleam of reflected light.</p> + +<p>Rowena must have caught it, too, for he heard her gasp behind him. "It +were best that I thanked ye now for thy great kindness, fair knight," +she said, "for anon we be no longer on live."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" Mallory said. "If this fiend of yours is anywhere in the +vicinity, he's probably more afraid of us than we are of him."</p> + +<p>The cave was behind them now. "Per ... peradventure he hath already +had meat," Rowena said hopefully. "The tale saith that and the fiend +be filled, he becomes aweary and besets not them the which do pass him +by in peace."</p> + +<p>"I'll keep my sword handy, just in case he changes his mind," Mallory +said. "Meanwhile, get on with your autobiography—only for Pete's +sake, cut it short, will you?"</p> + +<p>"An it please, fair sir. Thus as the fair gentlewoman stood talking +with Sir Bors there came twelve knights seeking after her, and anon +she told them all how Bors had delivered her; then they made great +joy, and besought him to come to her father, a great lord, and he +should be right welcome. Truly, said Bors, that may not be at this +time, for I have a great adventure to do in this country. So he +commended them unto God and departed. The fair gentlewoman did grieve +mickle to see him leave, and she saith, sir knights, noble was the +service that brave knight did render unto thy liege's daughter in the +saving of her maidenhead the which she could never get again, for that +be none other than his own brother the which he fauted. Therefore, +noble must be both his king and his cause, wherefore it be befitting +that a gentlewoman of thy liege's daughter's nature leave the castle +of her father betimes that she may render fitting service to her +succor's cause and be worthy of his deed. Thus spake this fair +gentlewoman, whereat she did mount upon her palfrey and so departed +her from thence and did ride as fast as her palfrey might bear her, +whereupon after many days she came to the castle of Carbonek and did +seek out King Pelles and did beseech him that she might be made +guardian of the Sangraal, whereat he did graciously consent to her +request and did consent also that she be made prisoner in the fortress +by her own wish. And now she was bewrayed her trust, fair sir, and the +table of silver whereon the Sangraal stood stands empty."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>For some time after she finished talking, Mallory was silent. Was she +trying to pull his leg? he wondered. Or were the gentlewomen of her +day and age really as high-minded and as feathered-brained as she +would have him believe? He decided not to go into the matter for the +moment. "Tell me, Rowena," he said, "if the Sangraal is visible only +to those who are worthy of it, as I have been led to believe, how are +any of those wassailers whooping it up back there in that banquet +hall going to know whether it's gone or not?"</p> + +<p>"It be ofttimes averred that all cannot see the Holy Cup, as ye say, +fair knight. Natheless, all that have come unto the chamber sithen my +trust began, they did see it, and Sir Launcelot, the which is much +with sin, he did see it—and did take it."</p> + +<p>"He's not going to get very far with it, though," Mallory said. And +then, "How long is the tunnel anyway?"</p> + +<p>"Anon we shall see the stars, fair sir."</p> + +<p>She was right, and a few minutes later, after rounding a turn in the +passage, they emerged upon the bank of a small river. The subterranean +stream that had kept them company emerged, too, and joined its larger +sister on the way to the sea. On either hand, cliffs rose up, and the +susurrus of waves breaking on sand could be heard in the distance.</p> + +<p>Mallory guided Easy Money upstream to where the cliffs dwindled down +to thickly forested slopes. It took him but a moment to orientate +himself, and presently rohorse and riders were headed in the direction +of the highway. "Now," said he, "if you'll tell me where you want to +be dropped off, I'll see what I can do about getting the Grail back."</p> + +<p>There was a brief silence. Then, "An ... an ye wish, ye may leave me +here."</p> + +<p>He halted Easy Money, dismounted, and lifted her down to the ground. +He looked around, expecting to see a habitation of some sort. He saw +nothing but trees. He faced the girl again. "Don't you have any +friends or relatives you can stay with?"</p> + +<p>An argent shaft of moonlight slanting down through the foliage +illumined her face. "There be none nigh, fair sir, nor none nearer +than an hundred miles. I shall abide your again coming here in the +forest."</p> + +<p>Mallory stared at her. She didn't look—or act either, for that +matter—as though she knew enough to get in out of the rain. "Abide +here in the forest! Why, you wouldn't last a week!"</p> + +<p>"But ye will return hither with the Sangraal long afore that, +whereupon we two together shall return the Holy Vessel to the chamber +and I shall not be made to suffer the severing of my two hands."</p> + +<p>He was aghast. "They wouldn't dare cut off your hands!"</p> + +<p>"They dare much, fair knight. Know ye naught of the customs of the +land?"</p> + +<p>He was silent. What in the world was he going to do about her? She +would probably wait here for him until she starved to death or, +equally as distressing, until she was apprehended. Abruptly he +shrugged his shoulders—to the extent that his pauldrons +permitted—and remounted the rohorse. Why should it matter to him what +became of her? He'd returned to the Age of Chivalry to steal the +Sangraal, not to play nursemaid to damosels in distress. "Don't take +any wooden nickels now," he said.</p> + +<p>Two tiny stars appeared in the pale regions of her eyes and twinkled +down her cheeks. "May the good Lord speed ye upon thy quest, fair +knight, and may He guard ye well."</p> + +<p>"Oh, for Pete's sake!" Mallory said, and reaching down, pulled her up +onto Easy Money's croup. "I have a castle not far from here. I'll drop +you off, then I'll go after the Sangraal."</p> + +<p>Her breath was warm little wind seeping through the crevices of his +gorget. "Oh, fair sir, ye be the noblest of all the knights in all the +land, and I shall serve thee faithfully for the rest of my days!"</p> + +<p>The rohorse whinnied. <i>Giddy-ap, Easy Money</i>, Mallory encephalopathed, +and they started out.</p> + + +<h2>III</h2> + +<p>Rowena fell for the <i>Yore</i> hook, line, and sinker. Not even the modern +interior gave her pause. Those objects which happened to be beyond her +ken—and there were many of them—she interpreted as "appointments +befitting a noble knight," and as for the rooms themselves, she merely +identified them with the rooms out of her own experience that they +most closely resembled. Thus the rec-hall became "the banquet hall," +the supply room became "the kitchen," the control room became "the +sorcerer's tower," the tourist compartments became "the sleeping +tower," Mallory's bedroom-office became "the lord's quarters," the +lavatory became "the chapel," and the generator room became "the +dungeon." Only two things disconcerted her: the absence of servants +and the fact that Easy Money was stabled in the banquet hall. Mallory +got around the first by telling her that he had given the servants a +leave of absence, and she herself got around the second by declaring +it to be no more than fitting for such a splendid steed to be accorded +special treatment. Certainly, Mallory reflected, she was nothing if +she was not co-operative.</p> + +<p>After showing her around he wasted no time in getting down to the +business on hand, and stepping into the control room, he punched out +the data necessary to take the <i>Yore</i> back to 7:15 p.m. of the same +day, and to re-materialize it one half mile west of its present +position, as an overlap was bound to occur. There was a barely +noticeable tremor as the transition took place, and simultaneously the +darkness showing on the control-room telewindow transmuted to dusk.</p> + +<p>Turning away from the jump board, he saw Rowena regarding him with +large eyes from the doorway. "We're now back to a point in time that +precedes the theft of the Sangraal," he told her, "and we're relocated +farther down the valley. But don't let it throw you. None other than +Merlin himself built the magic apparatus you see before you in this +room, and you know yourself that once he makes up his mind to it, +Merlin can do anything."</p> + +<p>She blinked once, but evinced no other signs of surprise. "Yea, fair +sir," she said, "I am ware of the magic of Merlin."</p> + +<p>"However," Mallory went on, "magic such as this isn't something for a +gentlewoman such as yourself to fool around with, so I must forbid you +to enter this room during my absence from the castle. Also, while +we're on the subject, I must also forbid you to leave the castle +during my absence. Merlin would be upset no end if there were two +damosels that hight Rowena gallivanting around the countryside at the +same time."</p> + +<p>She blinked again. "By my troth, fair sir," she said, "I would lever +die than disobey thy two commands." And then, "Have ye ate any meat +late?"</p> + +<p>This time, Mallory blinked, "Meat?"</p> + +<p>"It is fitting that ye should eat meat afore ye ride out."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you mean food. I'll eat when I get back. But there's no need for +you to wait." He took her into the supply room and showed her where +the vacuum tins were stored. "You open them like this," he explained, +pulling one out and activating the desealer. "Then, as soon as the +contents cool off a little, you sit down to dinner."</p> + +<p>"But this be not meat," she objected.</p> + +<p>"Maybe not, but it's a good substitute, and a lot better for you." A +thought struck him, and he took her into the lavatory and showed her +how to operate the hot and cold-water dispenser, ascribing the setup +to more of Merlin's magic. He debated on whether to explain the +function and purpose of the adjacent shower, decided not to. There was +a limit to all things, and an apparatus for washing one's whole body +was simply too farfetched for anyone living in the sixth-century to +take seriously.</p> + +<p>Back in the rec-hall, he donned his helmet and gauntlets, reset the +gauntlet timepiece, picked up his spear and encephalopathed Easy Money +to his side. Mounting, he set the spear in the stirrup socket. Rowena +gazed up at him, plum-blue eyes round with awe and admiration—and +concern. "Wit ye well, fair sir," she said, "that Sir Launcelot, the +which is thy father, is a knight of many victories, and therefore ye +must take care."</p> + +<p>Mallory grinned. "Dismay you not, fair damsel, I'll smite him from his +steed before he can say 'Queen Guinevere'." He straightened his sword +belt, activated the <i>Yore's</i> lock, and rode across the mirage-moat and +entered the forest. The "portcullis" closed behind him.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Dusk had become darkness by the time he reached the highway. +Approximately half an hour later he would reach the highway again. +However, the seeming paradox did not disconcert him in the least: this +was far from being the first time he had backtracked himself on a job.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 350px;"> +<img src="images/image_002.jpg" width="350" height="448" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>As "before," he spurned the shadows of the bordering oaks and beeches +and encephalopathed Easy Money to keep to the center of the lane. And, +as "before," no one was abroad. Probably King Pelles' wassail was +already in progress, or, if not, the goodly knights and gentlewomen +were still at evensong. In any event, he reached the lane that led to +the castle of Carbonek without mishap.</p> + +<p>After entering the lane, he encephalopathed Easy Money into the +concealment of the shadows of the bordering trees and settled back in +the saddle to wait. Rowena's placing the time of the theft at "a +little while afore eight of the clock" had been a general estimate at +best; hence he had allowed himself plenty of leeway and had arrived on +the scene a little early. It was well that he had, for hardly a minute +passed before he heard hoofbeats approaching from the south, and +presently he saw a tall knight astride a resplendent steed turn into +the lane. His armor gleamed in the moonlight and bespoke a quality and +class that only a knight of Sir Launcelot's status would be able to +afford.</p> + +<p>Mallory watched him ride down the lane to the lion-flanked entrance +and heard him announce himself as "Sir Launcelot". The portcullis was +raised without delay, and the knight rode through the gateway and +disappeared from view.</p> + +<p>Mallory frowned in the darkness. Something about the incident had +failed to jibe. He thought back, but he could isolate nothing that, in +retrospect anyway, seemed in the least incongruous. He tried again, +with the same result, and at length he concluded that the note of +discord had originated in his imagination.</p> + +<p>Again, he settled back to wait. He wasn't particularly worried about +the outcome of the forthcoming encounter—the superiority of the +weapons and armor should be more than enough to see him through—but +just the same he wished there was some way to avoid it. There wasn't, +of course. Sir Launcelot's theft of the Sangraal was already +incorporated in fact, and, as a <i>fait accompli</i>, could not be obviated +by a previous theft. All Mallory could do was to make his move after +the <i>fait acccompli</i> in the hope that that was when he <i>had</i> made his +move. A time-thief didn't have nearly as much leeway as his seeming +freedom of movement might lead the uninitiated to believe. About all +he could do was to play along with destiny and await his +opportunities. If destiny smiled, he succeeded; if destiny frowned, he +did not. However, Mallory was optimistic about his forthcoming bid for +the Grail, for if it wasn't in the books for him to wrest the Cup from +Sir Launcelot, the chances were he wouldn't have gotten as far as he +had.</p> + +<p>He estimated that it would take the man five minutes to enter the +castle, proceed to the chamber, seize the Sangraal, return to the +courtyard and come riding back to the portcullis. Seven minutes proved +to be nearer the mark. In response to a hail from within the wall, +several of the warders bent to the windlass, whereupon the portcullis +scraped and groaned aloft, and the tall knight came riding out just as +the hands of Mallory's timepiece registered 7:43 p.m.</p> + +<p>Mallory let him pass, straining his eyes in vain for a glimpse of the +Sangraal. He waited till Sir Launcelot was half a hundred yards down +the highway before he encephalopathed Easy Money to follow, and he +waited till a bend in the road hid the castle of Carbonek from view +before encephalopathing the command to charge. At this point, Sir +Launcelot became aware that he was no longer alone, and wheeled his +steed around. Without an instant's hesitation, he dressed his spear +and launched a counter-charge. All Mallory could think of was a +twentieth-century steam locomotive bearing down upon him.</p> + +<p>He swallowed grimly, "aventred" his own spear, and upped Easy Money's +pace. Two could play at being locomotives. The approaching knight and +steed loomed larger; the sound of hoofbeats crescendoed into staccato +thunder. The spear pointing straight toward Mallory's breastplate had +something of the aspect of a jet-propelled flagpole. Hurriedly, he got +his shield into position. Maybe the man would spot the red cross, +realize its significance, and slow down.</p> + +<p>If he spotted it, he gave no sign, and only came the faster. Mallory +braced himself for the forthcoming impact. However, the impact never +occurred. At the last moment his antagonist directed the spearpoint at +Mallory's helmet, did something that made it separate itself from the +shaft to the accompaniment of a gout of incandescence and come +streaking through the air like a little comet. Mallory tried to dodge, +but he would have been equally as successful if he had tried to dodge +a real comet. There was a deafening <i>clang!</i> in the region of his left +audio-amplifier, and the whole left side of his face went numb. Just +before he blacked out he saw the oncoming knight veer his steed, wheel +it around, and ride off. A peal of all-too-familiar laughter drifted +back over the man's shoulder.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Now," said the rent-a-robogogue, "you will try again: 'A' is for +'Atom', 'B' is for 'Bomb', 'C' is for 'Conform', 'D' is for 'Dollar', +'E' is for 'Economy', and 'F' is for 'Fun'. What comes after 'F'?"</p> + +<p>The boy Mallory squirmed in his ABC chair. "I don't know what comes +next and I don't care!"</p> + +<p>"I'll box your ears," the rent-a-robogogue threatened.</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't dare!"</p> + +<p>"Yes I would—I'm a physical-chastisement model, you know. Now, we'll +try once more: 'A' is for 'Atom', 'B' is for 'Bomb', 'C' is for +'Conform', 'D' is for 'Dollar', 'E' is for 'Economy', and 'F' is for +'Fun'. What comes after 'F'?"</p> + +<p>"I told you that I didn't know and that I didn't care!"</p> + +<p>"I warned you," said the rent-a-robogogue.</p> + +<p>"Ow!" the boy Mallory cried.</p> + +<p>"Ow!" the man Mallory groaned, sitting up in the weeds beside the +early sixth-century highway.</p> + +<p>All was silence around him, if you discounted the stridulations of +insects and the <i>be-ke korak-korak-korak</i> of frogs. A few yards away, +Easy Money stood immobile in the moonlight. Mallory raised his hand +to his helmet and felt the sizable dent that the spearpoint had made. +Gingerly, he took the helmet off. Who in the world would have dreamed +that they had jet-rifles in this day and age!</p> + +<p>The absurdity of the thought snapped him back to full awareness. A +moment later he remembered the peal of familiar laughter.</p> + +<p>Perfidion!</p> + +<p>The man must have wanted the Grail desperately to have come after it +himself, which meant that it was probably worth much more than he had +let on. But how had he known when and where to essay the lift? More +specifically, how had he found out when and where to essay the lift on +such short notice?</p> + +<p>Mallory thought back. He was reasonably certain that he had made no +slips of the tongue during his visit to the Perfidion Tower and during +the ensuing game of golp, and he was equally certain that he had let +fall no revealing references to the place-time he had so carefully +pinpointed. Where, then, had he gone astray?</p> + +<p>Suddenly, way back in his mind, Perfidion said, "By the way, Tom, I +take it you're all set as regards costume, equipment and the like."</p> + +<p>"I've got the sweetest little suit of armor you ever laid eyes on," +Mallory heard himself answer.</p> + +<p>He swore. So that was it! All Perfidion had needed to do was to make +the rounds of the costumers who specialized in armor, and to shell out +a few Kennedees to the one Mallory had patronized last. Then, in +possession of the knowledge that Mallory was embarking into the past +as Sir Galahad, all Perfidion had had to do was to consult one of the +many experts he kept at his beck and call. The expert had undoubtedly +told him where Sir Galahad was supposed to have found the Grail before +taking it to Sarras, and, equally as important, approximately when the +event was supposed to have taken place. Further questions could not +have failed to elicit the additional information that Sir Launcelot +had come to the chamber of the Sangraal before Sir Galahad had, and +from this Perfidion had undoubtedly deduced that Sir Launcelot could +very well have been a time-thief in disguise, too, and that the man, +having arrived on the scene first, could very well have been +responsible for the Grail's so-called return to Heaven, despite what +legend said to the contrary. Certainly it had been a gamble worth +taking, and obviously Perfidion had taken it.</p> + +<p>And won the jackpot.</p> + +<p>But that didn't mean he was going to keep the jackpot. Not by a long +shot. Mallory encephalopathed Easy Money to his side and pulled +himself to his feet with the help of the left stirrup and hung his +helmet on the pommel. Then he picked up his spear and clambered into +the saddle. "We're not beat yet, Easy Money," he said. <i>Giddy-ap!</i></p> + +<p>Easy Money whinnied, stamped its feet, and started back toward the +<i>Yore</i>. A short while later they passed the lane that led to the +castle of Carbonek. Presently Mallory heard the <i>clip-clop</i> of +approaching hoofbeats, and not wanting to risk an encounter in his +weakened condition, he encephalo-guided the rohorse off the highway +and into the deep shadows of a big oak. There was something +tantalizingly familiar about the horse and rider coming down the +highway. Small wonder: the "horse" was Easy Money and the rider was +himself. He was on his way to the castle of Carbonek to lift the Holy +Grail.</p> + +<p>Mallory gazed after his retreating figure disgustedly. "Sucker!" he +said.</p> + + +<h2>IV</h2> + +<p>Rowena nearly threw a fit when Mallory rode into the rec-hall. "Oh, +fair knight, ye be sorely wounded indeed!" she cried, helping him down +from his rohorse. "Certes, an ye bleed so much ye may die!"</p> + +<p>Mallory's head was throbbing, and he saw two damosels that hight +Rowena instead of only one. "I'll be all right after I lie down for a +while," he said. "And don't worry about the bleeding—it's almost +stopped."</p> + +<p>He took a step in the direction of his bedroom office, staggered and +would have fallen if she hadn't caught his arm. Her strength +astonished him: for all the lightness of his armor, it still lent him +an over-all weight of some two hundred and ten pounds; and yet the +shoulder which she provided for him to lean on did not give once all +the way to his bedside. She had his pauldrons, breastplate, and +arm-coverings off in no time flat. His cuisses, greaves, and sollerets +followed. The last he remembered was lying there in his under garments +and his chain-mail vest with three faces swimming in the misted sea of +his vision, each of them invested with the peculiar beauty that +concern, and concern alone, can grant.</p> + +<p>"How is mammakin's little man now?" the rent-a-mammakin asked, +applying soothing sedasalve to the boy Mallory's swollen ear.</p> + +<p>"He hit me, mammakin," the boy Mallory sobbed. "Just because I +wouldn't tell him that 'G' stands for 'Geography'. I hate geography! I +hate it, hate it, hate it!"</p> + +<p>"Nasty old rent-a-robogogue! Mammakin sent him away. He was an old +model that got rented out by mistake. Is mammakin's little man's ear +all right now?"</p> + +<p>The boy Mallory sat up. "I want my real—" he began.</p> + +<p>The man Mallory sat up. "I want my real—" he began.</p> + +<p>"I have great joy of thy swift recovery, fair sir," Rowena said.</p> + +<p>She was perched on the edge of his bed, applying a cool and soothing +ointment to his ear. On the table by the bed lay a basin of water, and +on her lap lay a pink tube. He grabbed the tube, looked at the label. +<i>Sedasalve</i>. He sighed with relief. "Where did you find it?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"La! fair sir, when ye did seem no longer on live I did run both +toward and forward in the castle seeking a magical salve whereby I +might succor ye, whereupon I did come to a white box in the chapel +wherein lay many magical tubes of diverse colors and natures whereof I +did choose one and—"</p> + +<p>Mallory was incredulous. "You chose a tube at random?" he demanded. +"Good Lord, it might have contained a counteragent that could have +killed me!"</p> + +<p>"The ... the letters thereon seemed of a magical nature, fair knight. +And ... and the color was seemly."</p> + +<p>"Well anyway it was the right one." He looked at her. Could she read? +he wondered. He was tempted to ask her, but refrained for fear of +embarrassing her. "In that same white box," he said, "you will find a +big bottle filled with round red pellets. Would you get it for me?"</p> + +<p>When she returned with it, he took two of the pills, then he laid his +head back on the pillow. "They'll restore the blood I lost," he +explained, "but in order for them to do the job properly I've got to +lie perfectly still for at least one hour."</p> + +<p>She sat down on the edge of the bed. "Marry! the magic of Merlin is +marvelous, albeit not as marvelous as the magic of Joseph of +Arimathea."</p> + +<p>"What did he do that was so marvelous?"</p> + +<p>The plum-blue eyes were fixed full upon his face. "Ye wit naught of +the tale of the white shield ye bear, fair sir? List, and I will tell +ye:</p> + +<p>"It befell after the passion of our Lord thirty-two year, that Joseph +of Arimathea, the gentle knight, the which took down our Lord off the +holy Cross, at that time departed from Jerusalem with a great party of +his kindred with him. And so he labored till that they came to a city +that hight Sarras. And at that same hour that Joseph came to Sarras +there was a king that hight Evelake, that had great war against the +Saracens, and in especially against one Saracen, the which was King +Evelake's cousin, a rich king and a mighty, which marched nigh this +land, and his name was called Tolleme la Feintes. So on a day these +two met to do battle. Then Joseph, the son of Joseph of Arimathea, +went to King Evelake and told him he should be discomfit and slain, +but if he left his belief of the old law and believed upon the new +law. And then there he showed him the right belief of the Holy +Trinity, to the which he agreed unto with all his heart; and there +this shield was made for King Evelake, in the name of Him that died +upon the Cross. And then—"</p> + +<p>"Hold it a minute," Mallory said. "This shield you've finally got +around to mentioning—is it the same one you set out to tell me +about?"</p> + +<p>"Wit ye well, fair sir. And then through King Evelake's good belief he +had the better of King Tolleme. For when Evelake was in the battle +there was a cloth set afore the shield, and when he was in the +greatest peril he left put away the cloth, and then his enemies saw a +figure of a man on the Cross, wherethrough they all were discomfit. +And so it befell that a man of King Evelake's was smitten his hand +off, and bare that hand in his other hand; and Joseph called that man +unto him and bade him go with good devotion touch the Cross. And as +soon as that man had touched the Cross with his hand it was as whole +as ever it was tofore. Then soon after there fell a great marvel, that +the cross of the shield at one time vanished away that no man wist +where it became. And then King Evelake was baptized, and for the most +part all the people of that city. So, soon after Joseph would depart, +and King Evelake would go with him whether he would or nold. And so by +fortune they came into this land, that at that time was called Great +Britain: and there they found a great felon paynim, that put Joseph +into prison. And so—"</p> + +<p>"A great <i>what</i>?" Mallory asked. In one sense the story was familiar +to him, but what bothered him was the fact that it was familiar in +another sense too—a sense he couldn't put his finger on.</p> + +<p>"A wicked unbeliever in our Lord. And so by fortune tidings came unto +a worthy man that hight Mondrames, and he assembled all his people for +the great renown he had heard of Joseph; and so he came into the land +of Great Britain and disinherited this felon paynim and consumed him; +and therewith delivered Joseph out of prison. And after that all the +people were turned to the Christian faith.</p> + +<p>"Not long after that Joseph was laid in his deadly bed. And when King +Evelake say that he made much sorrow, and said: For thy love I have +left my country, and sith ye shall depart out of this world, leave me +some token of yours that I may think on you. Joseph said: That will I +do full gladly; now bring me your shield that I took you when ye went +into battle against King Tolleme. Then Joseph bled at the nose, so +that he might not by no means be staunched. And there upon that shield +he made a cross of his own blood. Now may ye see a remembrance that I +love you, for ye shall never see this shield but ye shall think on me, +and it shall be always as fresh as it is now. And never shall man bear +this shield about his neck but he shall repent it, unto the time that +Galahad, the good knight, bare it; and the last of my lineage shall +have it about his neck, that shall do many marvelous deeds. Now, said +King Evelake, where shall I put this shield, that this worthy knight +may have it? Ye shall leave it there as Nacien, the hermit, shall be +put after his death; for thither shall that good knight come the +fifteenth day after that he shall receive the order of knighthood: and +so...."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>When Mallory awoke, Rowena's head was resting on his chest, and she +was breathing the soft and even breaths of untroubled sleep. Her hair, +viewed thus closely, was not as dark as he had at first believed it to +be. It was brown, really, rather than dark-brown. And astonishingly +lustrous. Without thinking, he rested his hand lightly upon her head. +She stirred then, and sat up, rubbing her plum-blue eyes. For a +moment she stared at him uncomprehendingly, then, "Prithee forgive me, +fair sir," she said.</p> + +<p>Mallory sat up, too. "Forgive you for what? Go open a couple of vacuum +tins while I get into my armor—I'm going to bring this caper to a +close."</p> + +<p>"Thy ... thy strength has returned?"</p> + +<p>"I never felt better in my life."</p> + +<p>In the rec-hall he said, sitting down at the table before one of the +two vacuum tins she had opened, "You never did ask me what happened."</p> + +<p>"Ye will tell me of thy own will an ye wish me to know."</p> + +<p>Mallory took a mouthful of simulsteak, chewed and swallowed. "Your Sir +Launcelot turned out to be a phony, and pulled a rabbit out of his +helmet the nature of which I'd better not try to describe to you."</p> + +<p>Eyes round as plums, she regarded him across the table. "A ... a +phony, fair sir?"</p> + +<p>Mallory nodded. "That's a sort of felon paynim who plays golp."</p> + +<p>"But with my own eyes I did see his armor, fair knight."</p> + +<p>"That's right—you saw his armor. But you didn't see him. A certain +character by the name of Perfidion was residing behind that +hardware—not the good Sir Launcelot."</p> + +<p>"Perfidion?"</p> + +<p>Mallory grinned. "Sir Jason Perfidion—a knight errant ye wit not of. +But the tournament's not over yet, and this time <i>I've</i> got the +rabbit: he thinks I'm dead."</p> + +<p>"He ... he left ye for dead, fair sir?"</p> + +<p>"That he did, and if that little brain-buster of his had struck just +one inch to the right, I'd have been just that." He shoved his empty +vacuum tin away and stood up. "Excuse me a minute—I've got to visit +the sorcerer's tower again."</p> + +<p>In the control room, he took the <i>Yore</i> back to 7:20 p.m. of the same +day and re-materialized it half a mile farther down the valley. +Turning, he saw that Rowena had followed him and was watching him from +the doorway. "Whereabouts may I find oats that I may feed thy horse, +fair knight?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Easy Money doesn't eat. He—" Mallory paused astonished as two of the +largest tears he had ever seen coalesced in her eyes and went tumbling +down her cheeks. "Oh, it's not that he's sick," he rushed on. "It's +just that horses like him don't require food to keep them going. Why, +Easy Money's guaranteed for ... he'll live another thirty years."</p> + +<p>The sun came up beyond the plum-blue horizons of her eyes. "It +pleaseth me mickle to hear ye speak thus, fair knight. I ... I have +great joy of him."</p> + +<p>Back in the rec-hall, Mallory pulled on his gauntlets, reset his +timepiece, and donned his helmet. The left audio-amplifier was shot, +but otherwise the piece was in good condition—aside from the dent, of +course. He encephalopathed Easy Money to his side, hung his shield +around his neck, and mounted. "Hand me my spear, will you, Rowena?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>She did so. "Ye be a most noble knight indeed, fair sir," she said, +"for to set so little store by thine own life in the service of a +damosel the which is undeserving of thy deeds. I ... I would lever +that ye forsook the Sangraal than that ye be fordone."</p> + +<p>Her concern touched him, and he removed his helmet and leaned down and +kissed her on the forehead. "Keep the home fires burning," he said; +then, setting his helmet back in place, he activated the lock, rode +across the mirage-moat, and set forth into the forest once again.</p> + + +<h2>V</h2> + +<p>This time when he reached the crest of the ridge that separated the +two valleys, Mallory took an azimuth on the towers of Carbonek, +encephalo-fed the direction to Easy Money, and programmed the "animal" +to proceed in as straight a course as possible.</p> + +<p>In the east, the moon was just beginning to rise; in the west, traces +of the sunset lingered blood-red just above the horizon. On the +highway below, a knight sitting astride a brown rohorse and bearing a +white shield with a red cross in the center was riding toward Carbonek +to challenge a twenty-second century "felon paynim" in imitation +Age-of-Chivalry armor. In the valley Mallory had just left behind him +there were two castles named <i>Yore</i>, and soon, a third would pop into +existence and yet another Mallory come riding out. Mallory grinned. It +was a little bit like playing chess.</p> + +<p>The forest which Easy Money presently entered was parklike in places, +and sometimes the trees thinned out into wide, moonlit meadows. +Crossing one of the meadows, Mallory saw the first star, and when at +length Easy Money emerged on the highway, the heavens were decked out +in typical midsummer panoply. The rohorse had followed its programming +almost perfectly and had emerged at a point just south of the lane +leading to the castle of Carbonek. All Mallory had to do was to +encephalo-guide it farther down the highway to a point beyond the site +of the forthcoming joust. While doing so, he kept well within the +concealing shadows of the bordering oaks and beeches where the ground +was soft and could give forth no telltale <i>clip-clop</i> of hoofbeats. +His circumspection proved wise—as in one sense, of course, it already +had—and when the false Sir Launcelot came riding by on his way to the +castle and the chamber of the Sangraal, he was no more aware of +Mallory III's presence by the roadside than he would presently be +aware of Mallory II's presence in the shadows of the trees that +bordered the lane.</p> + +<p>Mallory III grinned again and brought Easy Money to a halt just beyond +the next bend. "Wit ye well, Sir Jason, that thy hours be numbered," +he said.</p> + +<p>He remained seated in the saddle, feeling pretty good about the +world. In no time at all, if his one-man ambuscade came off, he would +be on his way back to the <i>Yore</i>, and thence to the twenty-second +century and a haircut. Selling the Sangraal without the aid of a +professional time-fence like Perfidion would be difficult, of course, +but it could be done, and once it was done, he, Mallory, could take +his place on Get-Rich-Quick Street with the best of them, and no +questions would be asked. There was, to be sure, the problem of what +to do about a certain damosel that hight Rowena, but he would face +that when he came to it. Maybe he could drop her off a dozen years in +the future in a region far enough removed from Carbonek to ensure her +safety. He would see.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image_003.jpg" width="500" height="506" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>At this point in his reflections he was jolted into alertness by the +sound of approaching hoofbeats. A moment later he heard a second set +of hoofbeats and knew that Mallory II had made his presence known. +Presently both sets crescendoed into staccato thunder as the two +"knights" came pounding toward each other, and not long afterward +there was a clank and a clatter as Mallory II went tumbling out of his +saddle and into the roadside weeds. Finally the single set of +hoofbeats took over again, and Mallory III saw a horse and rider +coming around the bend in the highway. He braced himself.</p> + +<p>Before making his play, he waited till horse and rider were directly +opposite him; then he encephalopathed Easy Money to charge. "Sir +Launcelot" managed to get his shield up in time, but the maneuver did +him no good. Mallory's spearhead struck the shield dead center, and +"Sir Launcelot" went sailing out of his saddle to land with an awesome +clatter flat on his back on the highway. He did not get up.</p> + +<p>Dismounting, Mallory removed the man's helmet. It was Perfidion all +right. There was a large bruise on the side of his head and he was out +cold, but he was still breathing. Next, Mallory looked for the +Sangraal. Perfidion had concealed it somewhere, and apparently he had +done the job well. Since the armor could not have accommodated an +object of that size, the hiding place had to be somewhere on the body +of his horse. The horse was standing quietly beside Easy Money in the +middle of the highway. It was jet-black and its fetlock-length +trappings were blue, threaded with silver; otherwise, the two steeds +were identical. Mallory tumbled to the truth then, went over to where +the black "horse" was standing, raised its trappings, found the tiny +activator button, and depressed it. The croup-hood rose up, and there +in the secret compartment, wrapped in red samite, lay the cause of the +mounting absentee-rate in King Arthur's court.</p> + +<p>Always the skeptic, Mallory raised a corner of the samite in order to +make certain that he was not being cheated. Instantly, a reflected ray +of moonlight stabbed upward into his eyes, and for a moment he was +blinded. Exorcising the thought that sneaked into his mind, he closed +the croup-hood, rearranged the trappings, and returned to Perfidion's +side. Dragging the armor-encumbered man over to the black rohorse and +slinging him over the saddle was no easy matter, but Mallory managed; +then he picked up Perfidion's helmet and spear and set the former on +the pommel and wedged the latter in one of the stirrups. Finally he +mounted Easy Money and, encephalopathing the black rohorse to follow, +set out down the highway away from the castle of Carbonek.</p> + +<p>Make-believe castles could fool the hadbeens, but they couldn't fool a +professional. He spotted the phony towers of Perfidion's TSB rising +above the trees before he had proceeded half a mile. After raising the +"portcullis", he got the man down from the black rohorse, dragged him +inside, and propped him against the rec-hall bar. Then he got the +man's helmet and spear and laid them beside him. After considerable +reflection, he went into the control room, set the time-dial for June +10, 1964, the space-dial for a busy intersection in downtown Los +Angeles, and punched out H-O-T-D-O-G S-T-A-N-D on the lumillusion +panel. Satisfied, he went into the generator room and short-circuited +the automatic throw-out unit so that when rematerialization took +place, the generator would burn up. Finding a ball of heavy-duty +twine, he returned to the control room, tied one end to the master +switch, and began backing out of the TSB, unwinding the twine as he +went.</p> + +<p>In the rec-hall, he paused, and grinned down at the still-unconscious +Perfidion. "It's a better break than you meant to give me, Jason," he +said. "And don't worry—once you explain to the authorities what +you're doing in a suit of sixth-century armor and how you happened to +open a giant hot-dog stand in the middle of a traffic-clogged +crossroads, you'll be all right. As a matter of fact, with your +knowledge of things to come, you'll probably wind up a richer man than +you are now—if the smog doesn't get you first." He stepped through +the lock, jerked the twine, and the "castle" vanished into thin air.</p> + +<p>Remounting Easy Money and encephalopathing the black rohorse to +follow, he started back toward the <i>Yore</i>, taking a direct route +through the forest. He was halfway to his destination and had just +emerged into a wide meadow when he saw the knight with the white +shield riding toward him in the bright moonlight. In the center of the +shield there was a vivid blood-red cross.</p> + +<p>When the knight saw Mallory, he brought his steed to a halt. Moonlight +glimmered eerily on his shield, turned his helmet to silver. His armor +seemed to emit an unearthly light—a light that was at once terrifying +and transcendent. The hilt of his sword was as blood-red as the cross +on his shield; so was the pommel of his spear. Here was righteousness +incarnate. Here in the form of an armored man on horseback was the +quintessence of the Age of Chivalry—not the Age of Chivalry as +exemplified by the vain and boasting nobles who had constituted +nine-tenths of the knight-errantry profession and who had used the +quest of the Holy Grail as an excuse to seek after mead and maidens, +but the Age of Chivalry as it might have been if the ideal behind it +had been shared by the many instead of by the few; the Age of +Chivalry, in short, as it had come down to posterity through the pages +of Malory's <i>Le Morte d'Arthur</i>.</p> + +<p>At length the knight spoke: "I hight Sir Galahad of the Table Round."</p> + +<p>Reluctantly, Mallory encephalopathed his two rohorses to halt, and +said the only thing he had left to say: "I hight Sir Thomas of the +castle <i>Yore</i>."</p> + +<p>"By whose leave bear ye likenesses of the red arms and the white +shield whereon shines the red cross the which was put there by Joseph +of Arimathea whilst he lay dying in his deadly bed?"</p> + +<p>Mallory did not answer.</p> + +<p>There was silence. Then, "I would joust with ye," Sir Galahad said.</p> + +<p>There it was, laid right on the line. The challenge—</p> + +<p>The death sentence.</p> + +<p>Nonsense! Mallory told himself. He's nothing but a nineteen-year old +kid. With your rohorse and your superior weapons you can unseat him in +two seconds flat, and once he's down, that glorified junk pile he's +wearing will glue him to the ground so fast he won't be able to lift a +finger!</p> + +<p>Aloud, he said, "Have at me then!"</p> + +<p>Instantly, Sir Galahad wheeled his horse around and rode to the far +side of the meadow. There, he wheeled the horse around again and +dressed his spear. Moonlight danced a silvery saraband on his white +shield, and the blood-red cross blurred and seemed to run.</p> + +<p>Mallory dressed his own spear. Immediately, Sir Galahad charged. +<i>Full speed ahead, Easy Money!</i> Mallory encephalopathed, and the +rohorse took off like a rocket.</p> + +<p>All he had to do was to hang on tight, and the joust would be in the +bag, he reassured himself. Sir Galahad's spear would break like a +matchstick, while his own superior spear would penetrate Sir Galahad's +shield as though the shield was made of tissue paper, as in a sense it +really was when you compared the metal that constituted it to modern +alloys. No matter how you looked at the situation, the kid was in for +a big letdown. Mallory almost felt sorry for him.</p> + +<p>The hoofbeats of horse and rohorse crescendoed; there was the +resounding clang! of steel coming into violent contact with steel. +Mallory's spear struck Sir Galahad's shield dead center—and snapped +in two. Sir Galahad's spear struck Mallory's shield dead center—and +Mallory sailed over Easy Money's croup and crashed to the ground.</p> + +<p>He was stunned, both mentally and physically. Staggering to his feet, +he drew his sword and raised his shield. Sir Galahad had wheeled his +horse around, and now he came riding back. Several yards from Mallory, +he tossed his spear aside, dismounted as lightly as though he wore no +armor at all, drew his sword, and advanced. Mallory stepped forward, +his confidence returning. His spear had been defective—that was it. +But his sword and his shield weren't, and now that the kid had elected +to give him a sporting chance, he would teach the young upstart a +lesson that he would never forget.</p> + +<p>Again, the two men came together. Down came Sir Galahad's sixth +century sword; up went Mallory's twenty-second century shield. There +was an ear-piercing <i>clang</i>, and the shield parted down the middle.</p> + +<p>Aghast, Mallory stepped back. Sir Galahad moved in, sword upraised +again. Mallory raised his own sword, caught the full force of the +terrific down-rushing blow on the blade. His sword was cut cleanly in +two, his left pauldron was cleanly cleaved, and a great numbness +afflicted his left shoulder. He went down.</p> + +<p>He stayed down.</p> + +<p>Sir Galahad leaned over him, unbroken sword uplifted. The cross in the +center of the snow-white shield was a bright and burning red. "Ye must +yield you as an overcome man, or else I may slay you."</p> + +<p>"I yield," Mallory said.</p> + +<p>Sir Galahad sheathed his sword. "Ye be not sorely wounded, and sithen +I desire not neither of they two steeds, as belike they be as unworthy +as they pieces, ye can return to thy castle unholpen."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Mallory blacked out for a moment, and when he came to, the shining +knight was gone.</p> + +<p>He lay there in the moonlight for some time, looking up at the stars. +At length he fought his way to his feet and encephalopathed the two +rohorses to his side. Mounting Easy Money, he encephalopathed it to +return to the westernmost "castle of Yore" and encephalopathed the +other rohorse to follow. He left his broken weapons where they lay.</p> + +<p>What had gone out of the world during the last sixteen hundred years +that had left sophisticated twenty-second century steel inferior in +quality to naïve sixth-century wrought iron? What did Sir Galahad have +that he, Mallory, lacked? Mallory shook his head. He did not know.</p> + +<p>The moonlit "towers" of the <i>Yore</i> had become visible through the +trees before it occurred to him that before riding away the man just +might have removed the Sangraal from the black rohorse's croup. At +first thought, such a possibility was too absurd to be entertained, +but not on second thought. According to <i>Le Morte d'Arthur</i>, the +fellowship of Sir Galahad, Sir Percivale, and Sir Bors had taken both +the table of silver and the Sangraal to Sarras where, some time later, +the Sangraal had been "borne up to heaven", never to be seen again. +Whether they had taken the table of silver did not concern Mallory, +but what did concern him was the fact that if they had taken the +Sangraal they could have done so only if it had fallen into Sir +Galahad's hands this very night. Tomorrow would be too late—now was +too late, in fact—provided, of course, that Mallory was destined to +return with it to the twenty-second century. Here, then, was the +crossroads, the real moment of truth: was he destined to succeed, or +wasn't he?</p> + +<p>Hurriedly, he encephalopathed the two rohorses to halt, dismounted, +and raised the black rohorse's trappings. He was dizzy from the loss +of blood, but he did not let his dizziness dissuade him from his +purpose, and he had the croup-hood raised in a matter of a few +seconds. He held his breath when he looked within, expelled it with +relief. The Sangraal had not been disturbed.</p> + +<p>He lifted it out of the croup-compartment, straightened its red samite +covering, and cradled it in his arms. Too weak to remount Easy Money, +he encephalopathed the two rohorses to follow and began walking toward +the <i>Yore</i>. Rowena must have seen him coming on one of the +telewindows, for she had the lock open when he arrived. Her face went +white when she looked at him, and when she saw the Grail, her eyes +grew even larger than plums. He went over and set it gently down on +the rec-hall table, then he collapsed into a nearby chair. He had just +enough presence of mind left to send her for the bottle of +blood-restorer pills, and just enough strength left to swallow several +of them when she brought it. Then he boarded the phantom ship that had +mysteriously appeared beside him and set sail upon the soundless sea +of night.</p> + + +<h2>VI</h2> + +<p>"No," said the rent-a-mammakin, "you cannot see her. She is +displeased with your score in the get-rich-quick race."</p> + +<p>"I did my best," the boy Mallory sobbed. "But when it came to stepping +on all those faces, I just couldn't do it!"</p> + +<p>The rent-a-mammakin arranged its features into a severe frown and +strengthened its grip on the boy Mallory's arm. "You knew that they +were only painted on the game floor to symbolize the Competitive +Spirit," it said. "Why couldn't you step on them?"</p> + +<p>The boy Mallory made a final desperate effort to gain the bedroom door +which his mother had just slammed and before which the rent-a-mammakin +stood, then he sank defeated to the floor. "I don't know why—I just +couldn't, that's all," he sobbed. He raised his voice. "But I <i>will</i> +step on them! I'll step on real faces too—just you wait and see. I'll +be a bigger get-rich-quickman than my father ever dreamed of being. +I'll show her!"</p> + +<p>"I'll show her," the man Mallory murmured, "just you wait and see."</p> + +<p>He opened his eyes. Save for himself, the bedroom-office was empty. +"Rowena?"</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>He raised his voice. "Rowena!"</p> + +<p>Again, no answer.</p> + +<p>He frowned. The door to the bedroom-office was open, and the "castle" +certainly wasn't so large that his voice couldn't carry from one end +of it to the other.</p> + +<p>His shoulder throbbed faintly, but otherwise he was unaware of his +wound. Rowena had bound it neatly—it was said that Age-of-Chivalry +gentlewomen were quite proficient in such matters—and apparently she +had once again got hold of the right counteragent.</p> + +<p>He sat up and swung his feet to the floor. So far, so good. +Tentatively, he stood up. A wave of vertigo broke over him. After it +passed, he was as good as new. The blood-restorer pills had done their +work well.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, everything was not as it should be. Something was very +definitely wrong. "Rowena!" he called again.</p> + +<p>Still no answer.</p> + +<p>She had removed his armor and piled it neatly at the foot of the bed. +He stared at the various pieces, trying desperately to think. +Something had awakened him—that was it. The slamming of a door ... or +a lock.</p> + +<p>He look a deep breath. He smelled green things. Dampness. A forest at +eventide....</p> + +<p>He knew then what was wrong. The lock of the <i>Yore</i> had been opened +and had been left open long enough for the evening air to permeate the +interior of the TSB; long enough, in other words, to have permitted +someone to ride across the imaginary drawbridge that spanned the +mirage-moat. Afterward, the lock had slammed back into place of its +own accord.</p> + +<p>He hurried into the rec-hall. Easy Money stood all alone behind the +tourist-bar. The black rohorse was gone.</p> + +<p>His eyes leaped to the rec-hall table. The Sangraal was gone, too.</p> + +<p>He groaned. The little idiot was taking it back! And after he had +forbidden her to leave the "castle" too! Well no, he hadn't forbidden +her exactly: he had forbidden her to leave it <i>during his absence</i>.</p> + +<p>He walked over to the telewindow nearest the lock and scrutinized the +screen. She was nowhere in sight, but night was on hand and the range +of his vision, while considerably abetted by the light of the rising +moon, was limited to the nearer trees.</p> + +<p>Presently he frowned. Was it still the same night, or had he been +unconscious for almost twenty-four hours?</p> + +<p>It <i>couldn't</i> be the same night—the position of the moon disproved +that. And yet he could swear that he had been unconscious for no more +than a few hours.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Belatedly, he remembered his gauntlet timepiece, and returned to the +bedroom-office. The timepiece registered 10:32. But that didn't make +any sense either: the moon was still low in the sky.</p> + +<p>He knew then that there could be but one answer, and he headed for the +control room posthaste. Sure enough, the jump-board time-dial had been +set for 8:00 p.m. of the same day. He looked at the space-dial. That +had been set to re-materialize the <i>Yore</i> one half mile farther west.</p> + +<p>He wiped his forehead. Good Lord, she might have sent the TSB all the +way back to the Age of Reptiles! Even worse, she might have plunked it +right down in the middle of WWIII!</p> + +<p>She hadn't, though. In point of fact, she had done exactly what she +had set out to do—taken the <i>Yore</i> back to a point in time from which +the Sangraal could be returned to the castle of Carbonek less than an +hour after it had been stolen.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he remembered how she had watched him from the doorway of the +control room each time he had reset the time and space-dials. +Technologically speaking, she was little more than a child, but +jump-boards were as uncomplicated as modern technology could make +them, and a person needed to be but little more than a child to +operate them.</p> + +<p>Grimly, Mallory returned to his bedroom-office and got into his armor; +then, ignoring the throbbing of his reawakened wound, he mounted Easy +Money and set out. He had no weapons, but it could not be helped. With +a little luck, he would have need of none. He was about due for a +little luck, if you asked him.</p> + +<p>He gambled that Rowena would use the same route back to the chamber of +the Sangraal that they had used in leaving it—actually, she had no +other choice—and he encephalo-guided Easy Money at a fast trot in the +direction of the river in the hope of overtaking her before she +reached the entrance to the subterranean passage. However, the hope +did not materialize, and he saw no sign of her till he reached the +entrance himself. Strictly speaking, he saw no sign of her then +either, but he did discern several dislodged stones that could have +been thrown up by the black rohorse's hoofs.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/image_004.jpg" width="500" height="576" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Entering the passage, he frowned. Until that moment, the incongruity +of a sixth-century damosel encephalo-guiding a twenty-second century +rohorse had not struck him. After a moment, though, he had to admit +that the incongruity was not as glaring as it had at first seemed. +"Encephalopathing" was merely a glorified term for "thinking," and +Rowena, shortly after mounting Perfidion's steed, must have made the +discovery that she had only to think where she wanted to go in order +for the rohorse to take her there.</p> + +<p>He had not remembered to bring a light, nor did he need one. The +infra-red rays of Easy Money's eye units were more than sufficient for +the task on hand, and overtaking the girl would have been as easy as +rolling off a log—if she hadn't been riding a rohorse, too. +Overtaking her wasn't of paramount importance anyway: he could +confiscate the Sangraal after she returned it just as easily as he +could before.</p> + +<p>The odd part about the whole thing was that Mallory never once thought +of the inevitable overlap till he saw the flicker of torchlight up +ahead. An instant later he heard the sound of a woman's voice, and +instinctively he encephalo-guided Easy Money into a nearby shallow +cave.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_005.jpg" width="300" height="397" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>The flickering light grew gradually brighter, and presently hoofbeats +became audible. The woman's voice was loud and clear now, and Mallory +made out her words above the purling of the underground stream: "... +And then he set down the maiden, and was armed at all pieces save he +lacked his spear. Then he dressed his shield, and drew out his sword, +and Bors smote him so hard that it went through his shield and +habergeon on the left shoulder. And through great strength he beat +him down to the earth, and at the pulling of Bors' spear there he +swooned. Then came Bors to the maid and said: How seemeth it to you of +this knight ye be delivered at this time? Now sir, said she, I pray +you lead me there as this knight had me. So shall I do gladly: and +took the horse of the wounded knight, and set the gentlewoman upon +him, and so brought her as she desired. Sir knight, said she, ye have +better sped than ye weened, for an I had lost my maidenhead, five +hundred men should have died for it. What knight was he that had you +in the forest? By my faith, said she, he is my cousin. So wot I never +with what engyn the fiend enchafed him, for yesterday he took me from +my father privily: for I nor none of my father's men mistrusted him +not, and if he had had my maidenhead he should have died for the sin, +and his body shamed and dishonored for ever. Thus as...."</p> + +<p>At this point, the truth behind the sense of <i>deja vu</i> that Mallory +had experienced the first time he had heard the tale hit him so hard +between the eyes that he jerked back his head. When he did so, his +helmet came into contact with the cave wall and scraped against the +stone. The rohorse and its two riders were directly across the stream +now. "<i>Shhh!</i>" Mallory I whispered.</p> + +<p>Rowena I gasped. "It were best that I thanked ye now for thy great +kindness, fair knight," she said, "for anon we be no longer on live."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" Mallory I said. "If this fiend of yours is anywhere in the +vicinity, he's probably more afraid of us than we are of him."</p> + +<p>"Per ... peradventure he hath already had meat," Rowena I said +hopefully. "The tale saith that an the fiend be filled he becomes +aweary and besets not them the which do pass him by in peace."</p> + +<p>"I'll keep my sword handy just in case he changes his mind," Mallory I +said. "Meanwhile, get on with your autobiography—only for Pete's +sake, cut it short, will you?"</p> + +<p>"An it please, fair sir. Thus as the fair gentlewoman stood talking +with Sir Bors there came twelve knights seeking after her, and +anon...."</p> + +<p>For a long while after the voices faded away, Mallory IV could not +move. Hearing the story the second time and, more important, hearing +it from the standpoint of an observer, he had been able to identify it +for what it really was—an excerpt from <i>Le Morte d'Arthur</i>. The +Joseph of Arimathea bit had been an excerpt, too, he realized now, +probably lifted word for word from the text. It was odd indeed that a +sixth-century damosel who presumably couldn't read could be on such +familiar terms with a book that would not be published for another +nine hundred and forty-three years.</p> + +<p>But not so odd if she was a twenty-second century blonde in a +sixth-century damosel's clothing.</p> + +<p>Remembering Perfidion's secretary, Mallory felt sick. No, there was no +noticeable resemblance between her and the damosel that hight Rowena; +but the removal of a girdle and a quarter of a pound of makeup, not to +mention the application of a "lustre-rich" brown hair-dye and the +insertion of a pair of plum-blue contact lenses, could very well have +brought such a resemblance into being—and quite obviously had. The +Past Police were noted for their impersonations, and most of them had +eidetic memories.</p> + +<p><i>Come on, Easy Money</i>, Mallory encephalopathed. <i>You and I have got a +little score to settle.</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>When he entered the chamber of the Sangraal, Rowena IV was arranging +the red samite cover around the Grail. She jumped when she saw him. +"Marry! fair sir, ye did startle me. Methinketh ye be asleep in thy +castle."</p> + +<p>"Knock it off," Mallory said. "The masquerade's over."</p> + +<p>She regarded him with round uncomprehending eyes. He got the +impression that she had been crying. "The ... the masquerade, fair +knight?"</p> + +<p>"That's right ... the masquerade. You're no more the damosel Rowena +than I'm the knight Sir Galahad."</p> + +<p>She lowered her eyes to his breastplate. "I ... I wot well ye be not +Sir Galahad, fair sir. It ... it happed that aforetime I did see Sir +Galahad with my own eyes, and when ye did unlace thy unberere and I +did see thy face, I knew ye could not be him of which ye spake." +Abruptly she raised her head and looked at him defiantly. "But I knew +from thy eyes that ye be most noble, fair sir, and therefore an ye did +pretend to be him the which ye were not, ye did so for noble cause, +and it were not for me to question."</p> + +<p>"I said knock it off," Mallory said, but with considerable less +conviction. "I'm onto you—don't you see? You're a time-fink."</p> + +<p>"A ... a time fink? I wot not what—"</p> + +<p>"An agent of the Past Police. One of those do-gooders who run around +history replacing stolen goods and turning in hard-working people like +myself. You gave yourself away when you lifted that Sir Bors bit +straight out of <i>Le Morte d'Arthur</i> and—"</p> + +<p>"But I did say ye sooth, fair sir. Sir Bors did verily succor my +maidenhead. I wot not how there can be two of ye and two of me and +four hackneys when afore there were but two, and I wot not how by +touching the magic board in thy castle in a certain fashion that I +could make the hour earlier and I wot not how the magic steed I did +bestride brought me hither—I wot not none of these matters, fair sir. +I wot only that the magic of thy castle is marvelous indeed."</p> + +<p>For a while, Mallory didn't say anything. He couldn't. In the +plum-blue eyes fixed full upon his face, truth shone, and that same +truth had invested her every word. The damosel Rowena, despite all +evidence to the contrary and despite the glaring paradox the admission +gave rise to, was not a phony, never had been a phony, and never would +be a phony. She was, as a matter of fact—with the exception of Sir +Galahad—the only completely honest person he had known in all his +life.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," he said, at length, "weren't you afraid to come back +through that passage alone? Weren't you afraid the fiend would get +you?"</p> + +<p>"La! fair sir—I had great fear. But it were not fitting that I +bethought me of myself at such a time." She paused. Then, "What might +be thy true name, sir knight?"</p> + +<p>"Mallory," Mallory said. "Thomas Mallory."</p> + +<p>"I have great joy of thy acquaintance, Sir Thomas."</p> + +<p>Mallory only half heard her. He was looking at the samite-covered +Sangraal. No more obstacles stood between him and his quest, and time +was a-wasting. He started to take a step in the direction of the +silver table.</p> + +<p>His foot did not leave the floor.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>He was acutely aware of Rowena's eyes. As a matter of fact, he could +almost feel them upon his face. It wasn't that they were any different +than they had been before: it was just that he was suddenly and +painfully cognizant of the trust and the admiration that shone in +them. Despite himself, he had the feeling that he was standing in +bright and blinding sunlight.</p> + +<p>Again, he started to take a step in the direction of the silver table. +Again, his foot did not leave the floor.</p> + +<p>It wasn't so much the fact that she didn't believe he would take the +Sangraal that bothered him: it was the fact that she couldn't conceive +of him taking it. She could be convinced that black was white, +perhaps, and that white was black, and that fiends hung out in empty +caves and castles; but she could never be convinced that a "knight" of +the qualities she imputed to Mallory could perform a dishonorable act.</p> + +<p>And there it was, laid right on the line. For all the good the Grail +was going to do Mallory, it might just as well have been at the bottom +of the Mindanao Deep.</p> + +<p>He sighed. His gamble hadn't paid off any more than Perfidion's had. +The real Sir Galahad was the one who had inherited the Grail after +all—not the false one. The false one grinned ruefully. "Well," he +told the damosel Rowena, "it's been nice knowing you." He swallowed; +for some reason his throat felt tight. "I ... I imagine you'll be all +right now."</p> + +<p>To his amazement she broke into tears. "Oh, Sir Thomas!" she cried. +"In my great haste to return the Sangraal to the chamber and to right +the grievous wrong committed by the untrue knight Sir Jason, I did +bewray my trust again. For when I espied ye and me and Easy Money in +the passage I did suffer a great discomfit, and it so happed that when +my steed did enter into a cave that the Sangraal came free from my +hands and ... and—"</p> + +<p>Mallory was staring at her. "You <i>dropped</i> it?"</p> + +<p>Stepping over to the silver table, she lifted a corner of the red +samite. The dent was not a deep one, but just the same you didn't have +to look twice to see it. "I ... I nyst not what to do," she said.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Mallory remembered the first sound he had heard in the +passage when he and Rowena were leaving the castle of Carbonek. "Well +how do you like that!" he said. He grinned. "I take it that this puts +your hands in jeopardy all over again—right?"</p> + +<p>"Yea, Sir Thomas, but I would lever die than beseech thee again to—"</p> + +<p>"Which," Mallory continued happily, "makes it out of the question for +a knight such as myself to leave you behind." He took her arm. "Come +on," he said. "I don't know how I'm going to fit a sixth-century +damosel into twenty-second century society, but believe me, I'm going +to try!"</p> + +<p>"And ... and will ye take Easy Money to this land whereof ye speak, +Sir Thomas?"</p> + +<p>"Sir Thomas" grinned. "Wit ye well," he said, "and his buddy, too. +Come on."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>In the <i>Yore</i>, he tossed his helmet and gauntlets into a corner of the +rec-hall and proceeded straight to the control room. There, with +Rowena standing at his elbow, he set the time-dial for June 21, 2178 +and the space-dial for the Kansas City Time-Tourist Port. Lord, it +would be good to get home again and get a haircut! "Here goes," he +told Rowena, and threw the switch.</p> + +<p>There was a faint tremor. "Brace yourself, Rowena," he said, and took +her over to the control-room telewindow.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_006.jpg" width="300" height="635" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Together, they gazed upon the screen. Mallory gasped. The vista of +spiral suburban dwellings which he had been expecting was not in the +offing. In its stead was a green, tree-stippled countryside. In the +distance, a castle was clearly discernible.</p> + +<p>He stared at it. It wasn't a sixth-century job like Carbonek—it was +much more modern. But it was still a castle. Obviously, the jump-board +had malfunctioned and thrown the <i>Yore</i> only a little ways into the +future, the while leaving it in pretty much the same locale.</p> + +<p>He returned to the jump-board to find out. Just as he reached it, its +lights flickered and went out. The time and space-dials, however, +remained illumined long enough for him to see when and where the TSB +had re-materialized. The year was 1428 A.D.; the locale, Warwickshire.</p> + +<p>Mallory made tracks for the generator room. The generator was smoking, +and the room reeked with the stench of shorted wires.</p> + +<p>He swore. Perfidion!</p> + +<p>So that was why the man had broken with tradition and invited a common +time-thief to a game of golp!</p> + +<p>If he had been anyone but Perfidion he would have gimmicked the +controls of the <i>Yore</i> so that Mallory would have wound up directly in +the fifteenth century sans sojourn in the sixth. But being Perfidion, +he had wanted Mallory to know how completely he was being outsmarted. +The chances were, though, that if the man had anticipated the +near-coincidence of the two visits to the chamber of the Sangraal he +would have seen to it that Mallory had never gotten a chance to use +his Sir Galahad suit.</p> + +<p>Returning to the control room, Mallory saw that the lumillusion panel had +been pre-programmed to materialize the <i>Yore</i> as a fifteenth-century +English castle. Apparently it had been in the books all along for him to +become a fifteenth-century knight, just as it had been in the books all +along for Perfidion to become the proprietor of a misplaced hot-dog stand.</p> + +<p>Mallory laughed. He had gotten the best of the bargain after all. At +least there was no smog in the fifteenth century.</p> + +<p>Who was he supposed to be? he wondered. Had his name gone down in +history by any chance?</p> + +<p>Abruptly he gasped. Was <i>he</i> the Sir Thomas Malory with estates in +Northampshire and Warwickshire? Was <i>he</i> the Sir Thomas Malory who had +compiled and translated and written <i>Le Morte d'Arthur</i>? Almost +nothing about the man's life was known, and probably the little that +was known had been assumed. He <i>could</i> have popped up from nowhere, +made his fortune through foreknowledge, and been knighted. He <i>could</i> +have been a reformed time-thief stranded in the fifteenth century.</p> + +<p>But if he, Mallory, was Malory, how in the world was he going to get +five hundred chapters of semi-historical data together and pass them +off as <i>Le Morte d'Arthur</i>?</p> + +<p>Suddenly he understood everything.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Going over to where Rowena was still standing in front of the +telewindow, he said, "I'll bet you know no end of stories about the +doings of the knights of the Table Round."</p> + +<p>"La! Sir Thomas. Ever I saw day of my life I have heard naught else in +the court of my father."</p> + +<p>"Tell me," Mallory said, "how did this Round Table business begin? Or, +better yet, how did the Grail business begin? We can take up the Round +Table business later on."</p> + +<p>She thought for a moment. Then, "List, fair sir, and I will say ye: At +the vigil of Pentecost, when all the fellowship of the Round Table +were come unto Camelot and there heard their service, and the tables +were set ready to the meat, right so entered into the hall a full fair +gentlewoman on horseback, that had ridden full fast, for her horse was +all besweated. Then she there alit, and came before the king and +saluted him; and he said: Damosel, God thee bless. Sir, said she, for +God's sake say me where Sir Launcelot is. Yonder ye may see him, said +the king. Then she went unto Launcelot and said: Sir Launcelot, I +salute you on King Pelles' behalf, and I require you to come on with +me hereby into a forest. Then Sir Launcelot asked her with whom she +dwelled. I dwell, said she, with King Pelles. What will ye with me? +said Launcelot. Ye shall know, said she, when ye—"</p> + +<p>"That'll do for now," Mallory interrupted. "We'll come back to it as +soon as I get stocked up on paper and ink. Scheherazade," he added.</p> + +<p>"Scheherazade, Sir Thomas? I wot not—"</p> + +<p>He leaned down and kissed her. "There's no need for you to wot," he +said. Probably, he reflected, he would have to do a certain amount of +research in order to record the happenings that had ensued his and +Rowena's departure, and undoubtedly said research would result +ironically in the recording of the true visits of Sirs Galahad and +Launcelot to the chamber of the Sangraal—the "time-slots" on which he +and Perfidion had gambled and lost their shirts. The main body of the +work, however, had been deposited virtually on his lap, and its style +and flavor had been arbitrarily determined. Moreover, contrary to what +history would later maintain, the job would not be done in prison, but +right here in the "castle of Yore" with Rowena sitting—and +dictating—beside him. As for the impossibility of giving a +sixth-century damosel as his major source, that could be avoided—as +in one sense it already had been—my making frequent allusions to +imaginary French sources. And as for the main obstacle to the +endeavor—his twenty-second century cynicism—that had been obviated +during his encounter with Sir Galahad.</p> + +<p>The book wouldn't be published till 1485, but just the same, he was +keen to get started on it. Writing it should be fun. Which reminded +him: "I know we haven't known each other very long in one sense, +Rowena," he said, "but in another, we've known each other for almost +nine hundred years. Will you marry me?"</p> + +<p>She blinked once. Then her plum-blue eyes showed how truly blue they +could become and she threw her arms around his gorget. "Wit ye well, +Sir Thomas," said she, "that there is nothing in the world but I would +lever do than be thy bride!"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 300px;"> +<img src="images/image_007.jpg" width="300" height="308" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="center"> +<i>Thus did the prose epic known<br /> +successively as "La Mort d'Arthur,"<br /> +THE MOST ANCIENT<br /> +AND FAMOUS HISTORY OF THE<br /> +RENOWNED PRINCE ARTHUR,<br /> +KING OF BRITAINE,<br /> +AS ALSO, ALL THE NOBLE ACTS,<br /> +AND HEROICKE DEEDS<br /> +OF HIS VALIANT KNIGHTS<br /> +OF THE ROUND TABLE,<br /> +and "Le Morte d'Arthur"<br /> +come to be recorded.</i><br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Knyght Ther Was, by Robert F. 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Young + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Knyght Ther Was + +Author: Robert F. Young + +Illustrator: Leo Summers + +Release Date: January 14, 2010 [EBook #30963] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A KNYGHT THER WAS *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction July 1963. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. + + + A Knyght Ther Was + + + _But the Knyght was a little less than Perfect, and his + horse did not have a metabolism, and his "castle" was much + more mobile--timewise!--than it had any business being!_ + + + by Robert F. Young + + + _Illustrated by Leo Summers_ + + + _A Knyght ther was, and that a worthy man, + That fro the tyme that he first bigan + To ryden out, he loved chivalrye, + Trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisye_ + + --THE CANTERBURY TALES + + * * * * * + + + + +I + +Mallory, who among other things was a time-thief, re-materialized the +time-space boat _Yore_ in the eastern section of a secluded valley in +ancient Britain and typed CASTLE, EARLY SIXTH-CENTURY on the +lumillusion panel. Then he stepped over to the control-room telewindow +and studied the three-dimensional screen. The hour was 8:00 p.m.; the +season, summer; the Year 542 A.D. + +Darkness was on hand, but there was a full moon rising and he could +see trees not far away--oaks and beeches, mostly. Roving the eye of +the camera, he saw more trees of the same species. The "castle of +Yore" was safely ensconced in a forest. Satisfied, he turned away. + +If his calculations were correct, the castle of Carbonek stood in the +next valley to the south, and on a silver table in a chamber of the +castle stood the object of his quest. + +_If_ his calculations were correct. + +Mallory was not one to keep himself in suspense. Stepping into the +supply room, he stripped down to his undergarments and proceeded to +get into the custom-built suit of armor which he had purchased +expressly for the operation. Fortunately, while duplication of early +sixth-century design had been mandatory, there had been no need to +duplicate early sixth-century materials, and sollerets, spurs, +greaves, cuisses, breastplate, pauldrons, gorget, arm-coverings, +gauntlets, helmet, and chain-mail vest had all been fashioned of +light-weight alloys that lent ten times as much protection at ten +times less poundage. The helmet was his particular pride and joy: in +keeping with the period-piece after which it had been patterned, it +looked like an upside-down metal wastepaper basket, but the one-way +transparency of the special alloy that had gone into its construction +gave him unrestricted vision, while two inbuilt audio-amplifiers +performed a corresponding service for his hearing. + +The outer surface of each piece had been burnished to a high degree, +and he found himself a dazzling sight indeed when he looked into the +supply-room mirror. This effect was enhanced no end when he buckled on +his chrome-plated scabbard and red-hilted sword and hung his +snow-white shield around his neck. His polished spear, when he stood +it beside him, was almost anticlimactic. It shouldn't have been. It +was a good three and one-half inches in diameter at the base, and it +was as tall as a young flagpole. + +As he stood there looking at his reflection, the red cross in the +center of the shield took on the hue of freshly-shed blood. The +period-piece expert who had designed the shield had insisted on the +illusion, saying that it made for greater authenticity, and Mallory +hadn't argued with him. He was glad now that he hadn't. Raising the +visor of his helmet, he winked at himself and said, "I hereby christen +ye 'Sir Galahad'." + +Next, he bethought himself of his steed. Armor clanking, he left the +supply room and walked down the short passage to the rec-hall. The +rec-hall occupied the entire forward section of the TSB and had been +designed solely for the benefit of the time-tourists whom Mallory +regularly conducted on past-tours as a cover-up for the illegal +activities which he pursued in between trips. In the present instance, +however, the hall went quite well with the _Yore's_ lumillusioned +exterior, possessing, with its gallery-like mezzanine, its long snack +table, and its imitation flagstone flooring, an early sixth-century +aspect of its own--an aspect marred only slightly by the +"anachronistic" telewindows inset at regular intervals along the +walls. + +Mallory's steed stood in a stall-like enclosure that was formed by the +tourist-bar and one of the walls, and it was a splendid "beast" +indeed--as splendid a one as the twenty-second century robotics +industry was capable of creating. Originally, Mallory had planned on +bringing a real horse with him, but as this would have necessitated +his having to learn how to ride, he had decided against it. The +decision had been a wise one: "Easy Money" looked more like a horse +than most real horses did, could travel twice as fast, and was as easy +to ride and to maneuver as a golp jetney. It was light-brown in color +with a white diamond on its forehead, it was equipped with a secret +croup-compartment and an inbuilt saddle, and its fetlock-length +trappings were made of genuine synthisilk threaded with gold. It wore +no armor--it did not need to: weapons manufactured during the Age of +Chivalry could no more penetrate its "hide" than a tooth pick could. + +_Come on, Easy Money_, Mallory encephalopathed. _You and I have a +little job to do._ + +The rohorse emitted several realistic whinnies, backed out of its +"stall", trotted smartly over to his side, and nuzzled his right +pauldron. Mallory mounted--not gracefully, it is true, but at least +without the aid of the winch he would have needed if his armor had +been manufactured in the sixth century--and inserted the red pommel of +his spear in the stirrup socket. Then, activating the _Yore's_ lock, +he rode across the imaginary drawbridge that spanned the mirage-moat, +and set forth into the forest. As the "portcullis" closed behind him, +symbolically bringing phase one of Operation Sangraal to a close, he +thought of Jason Perfidion. + + * * * * * + +Standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall fireplace in +the big balconied room, Perfidion said, "Mallory, you're wasting your +time. Worse, you're wasting mine." + +The room climaxed a vertical series of slightly less sumptuous +chambers known collectively as the Perfidion Tower, and the Perfidion +Tower stood with a score of balconied brothers on a blacktop island in +the exact center of Kansas' largest golp course. A short distance from +the fraternal gathering stood yet another tower--the false tower into +which Mallory had lumillusioned his TSB upon his arrival. On the Golp +Terrace, as the blacktop island was called, everyone and everything +conformed--or else. + +The room itself was known to time-thieves as "Perfidion's Lair". And yet +there was nothing about Jason Perfidion--nothing physical, that is--that +suggested the predator. He was Mallory's age--thirty-three--tall, dark of +hair, and strikingly handsome. He looked like--and was--a highly +successful businessman with a triplex on Get-Rich-Quick Street, and he +gave the impression that he was as honest as the day was long. Just the +same, the predator was there, and if you were alert enough you could +sometimes glimpse it peering out through the smoky windowpanes of his +eyes. + +It wasn't peering out now, though. It was sleeping. However, it was +due to wake up any second. "Then you're not interested in fencing the +Holy Grail?" Mallory asked. + +Annoyance intensified the slight swarthiness of Perfidion's cheeks. +"Mallory, you know as well as I do that the Grail never really +existed, that it was nothing more than the mead-inspired daydream of a +bunch of quixotic knights. So go and get your hair cut and forget +about it." + +"But suppose it _did_ exist," Mallory insisted. "Suppose, tomorrow +afternoon at this time, I were to come in here and set it down on this +desk here? How much could you get for it?" + +Perfidion laughed. "How much _couldn't_ I get for it! Why, without +even stopping to think I can name you a dozen collectors who'd give +their right arm for it." + +"I'm not interested in right arms," Mallory said. "I'm interested in +dollars. How many Kennedees could you get for it?" + +"A megamillion--maybe more. More than enough, certainly, to permit you +to retire from time-lifting and to take up residence on Get-Rich-Quick +Street. But it doesn't exist, and it never did, so get out of here, +Mallory, and stop squandering my valuable time." + +Mallory withdrew a small stereophoto from his breast pocket and +tossed it on the desk. "Have a look at that first--then I'll go," he +said. + +Perfidion picked up the photo. "An ordinary enough yellow bowl," he +began, and stopped. Suddenly he gasped, and jabbed one of the many +buttons that patterned his desktop. Seconds later, a svelte blonde +whom Mallory had never seen before stepped out of the lift tube. Like +most general-purpose secretaries, she wore a maximum of makeup and a +minimum of clothing, and moved in an aura of efficiency and sex. "Get +me my photo-projector, Miss Tyler," Perfidion said. + +When she returned with it, he set it on his desk and inserted the +stereophoto. Instantly, a huge cube materialized in the center of the +room. Inside the cube there was a realistic image of a resplendent +silver table, and upon the image of the table stood an equally +realistic image of a resplendent golden bowl. Perfidion gasped again. + +"Unusual workmanship, wouldn't you say?" Mallory said. + +Perfidion turned toward the blonde. "You may go, Miss Tyler." + +She was staring at the contents of the cube and apparently did not +hear him. "I said," he repeated, "that you may go, Miss Tyler." + +"Oh. Yes ... yes sir." + + * * * * * + +When the lift-tube door closed behind her, Perfidion turned to +Mallory. For a fraction of a second the predator was visible behind +the smoky windowpanes of his eyes; then, quickly, it ducked out of +sight. "Where was this taken, Tom?" + +"It's a distance-shot," Mallory said. "I took it through one of the +windows of the church Joseph of Arimathea built in Glastonbury." + +"But how did you know--" + +"That it was there? Because it _had_ to be there. Some time ago, while +escorting a group of tourists around ancient Britain, I happened to +witness Joseph of Arimathea's landing--and happened to catch a glimpse +of what he brought with him. I used to think that the Grail was a pipe +dream, too, but when I saw it with my own eyes, I knew that it +couldn't have been. However, I knew I'd need evidence to convince you, +so I jumped back to a later place-time and got a shot of it." + +"But why a shot, Tom? Why didn't you lift it then and there?" + +"You concede that it is the Grail then?" + +"Of course it's the Grail--there's not the slightest question about +it. Why didn't you lift it?" + +"Well, for one thing, I wanted to make sure that lifting it would be +worth my while, and for another, Glastonbury wasn't the logical +place-time from which to lift it, because, assuming that the rest of +the legend is also true, it was seen after that place-time. No +time-thief ever bucked destiny yet and came out the winner, Jason; I +play my percentages." + +"I know you do, Tom. You're one of the best time-lift men in the +business, and the Past Police would be the first to admit it.... I +daresay you've already pinpointed the key place-time?" + +Mallory grinned, showing his white teeth. "I certainly have, but if +you think I'm going to divulge it, you're sadly mistaken, Jason. And +stop looking at my hair--it won't tell you anything beyond the fact +that I've been using Hair-haste. Shoulder-length hair was the rage in +more eras than one." + +Perfidion smiled warmly, and clapped Mallory on the back. "I'm not +trying to ferret out your secret, Tom. I know better than that. +Lifting is your line, fencing mine. You bring me the Grail, I'll sell +it, take my cut, and everything will be fine. You know me, Tom." + +"I sure do," Mallory said, taking the stereophoto out of the projector +and returning it to his breast pocket. + +Perfidion snapped his fingers. "A happy thought just occurred to me! +I've got a golp date with Rowley of Puriproducts, so why don't you +join us, Tom? You play a pretty good game, as I recall." + +Mollified, Mallory said, "I'll have to borrow a set of your +jetsticks." + +"I'll get them for you on the way down. Come on, Tom." + +Mallory accompanied him across the room. "Keep mum about this to +Rowley now," Perfidion said confidentially. "He's a potential +customer, but we don't want to let the cat out of the bag yet, do we? +Or should I say 'the Grail'." He took time out to grin at his little +joke, then, "By the way, Tom, I take it you're all set as regards +costume, equipment and the like." + +"I've got the sweetest little suit of armor you ever laid eyes on," +Mallory said. + +"Fine--no need for me to offer any advice in that respect then." +Perfidion opened the lift door. "After you, Tom." + +They plummeted down the tube together. + + * * * * * + +It had been a good game of golp--from Mallory's standpoint, anyway. He +had trounced Rowley roundly, and he would have inflicted similar +ignominy upon Perfidion had not the latter been called away in the +middle of the game and been unable to return till it was nearly over. +Oh well, Mallory thought, encephalo-guiding his rohorse through the +ancient forest, there'll be other chances. Aloud, he said, "Step +lively now, Easy Money, and let's get this caper over with so we can +return to civilization and start feeling what it's like to be rich." + +In response to the encephalo-waves that had accompanied his words, +Easy Money increased its pace, the infra-red rays of its eye units +illumining its way. In places, light from the rising moon seeped +through the foliage, but otherwise darkness was the rule. The air was +cool and damp--the sea was not far distant--and the sound of frogs and +insects was omnipresent and now and then there was the rustling sound +of some small and fleeing forest creature. + +Presently the ground began to rise, and not long afterward the trees +thinned out temporarily and rohorse and rider emerged on the moonlit +crest of the ridge that separated the two valleys. In the distance +Mallory made out the moon-gilt towers and turrets of a large castle, +and knew it to be Carbonek beyond a doubt. He sighed with relief. He +was all set now--provided his masquerade went over. Conversely, if it +didn't go over he was finished: his sword and his spear were his only +weapons, and his shield and his armor, his only protection. True, each +article was superior in quality and durability to its corresponding +article in the Age of Chivalry, but otherwise none of them was +anything more than what it seemed. Mallory might be a time-thief; but +within the framework of his profession he believed in playing fair. + +In response to his encephalopathed directions, Easy Money picked its +way down the slope of the ridge and re-entered the forest. Not long +afterward it stepped onto what was euphemistically referred to in that +day and age as a "highway" but which in reality was little more than a +wide, hoof-trampled lane. As Mallory's entire plan of action was based +on boldness, he spurned the shadows of the bordering oaks and beeches +and encephalopathed the rohorse to keep to the center of the lane. He +met no one, however, despite the earliness of the hour, nor had he +really expected to. It was highly improbable that any freemen would be +abroad after dark, and as for the knight-errants who happened to be in +the neighborhood, it was highly improbable that any of them would be +abroad after dark either. + +He grinned. To read _Le Morte d'Arthur,_ you'd think that the chivalry +boys had been in business twenty-four hours a day, slaying ogres, +rescuing fair damosels, and searching for the Sangraal; but not if you +read between the lines. Mallory had read "Arthur" only cursorily, but +he had had a hunch all along that in the majority of cases the quest +for the Sangraal had served as an out, and that the knights of the +Table Round had spent more time wenching and wassailing than they had +conducting their so-called dedicated search, and the hunch had played +an important role in the shaping of his strategy. + +The highway turned this way and that, never pursuing a straight course +unless such a logical procedure was unavoidable. Once, he thought he +heard hoofbeats up ahead, but he met no one, and not long afterward he +saw the pale pile of Carbonek looming above the trees to his left, and +encephalo-guided Easy Money into the lane that led to the entrance. +There was no moat, but the portcullis was an imposing one. Flanking it +on either side was a huge stone lion, and framing it were flaming +torches in regularly-spaced niches. Warders in hauberk and helmet +looked down from the lofty wall, their halberds gleaming in the +dancing torchlight. Mallory swallowed: the moment of truth had +arrived. + +He halted Easy Money and canted his white shield so that the red +cross in its center would be visible from above. Then he marshalled +his smattering of Old English. "I hight Sir Galahad of the Table +Round," he called out in as bold a voice as he could muster. "I would +rest my eyes upon the Sangraal." + + * * * * * + +Instantly, confusion reigned upon the wall as the warders vied with +one another for the privilege of operating the cumbersome windlass +that raised and lowered the portcullis, and presently, to the +accompaniment of a chorus of creaks and groans and scrapings, the +ponderous iron grating began to rise. Mallory forced himself to wait +until it had risen to a height befitting a knight of Sir Galahad's +caliber, then he rode through the gateway and into the courtyard, +congratulating himself on the effectiveness of his impersonation. + +"Ye will come unto the chamber of the Sangraal sixty paces down the +corridor to thy left eftsoon ye enter the chief fortress, sir knight," +one of the warders called down. "An ye had arrived a little while +afore, ye had encountered Sir Launcelot du Lake, the which did come +unto the fortress and enter in, wherefrom he came out anon and +departed." + +Mallory would have wiped his forehead if his forehead had been +accessible and if his hands had not been encased in metal gloves. +Fooling the warders was one thing, but passing himself off as Sir +Galahad to the man who was Sir Galahad's father would have been quite +another. He had learned from the pages of his near-namesake's "Arthur" +that Sir Launcelot had visited Carbonek before Sir Galahad had, but +the pages had not revealed whether the time-lapse had involved +minutes, hours, or years, and for that matter, Mallory wasn't +altogether certain whether the second visit they described had been +the real Sir Galahad's, which meant failure, or a romanticized version +of his own, which meant success. His near-namesake was murky at best, +and reading him you were never sure where anybody was, or when any +given event was taking place. + +The courtyard was empty, and after crossing it, Mallory dismounted, +encephalopathed Easy Money to stay put, and climbed the series of +stone steps that led to the castle proper. Entering the building +unchallenged, he found himself at the junction of three corridors. The +main one stretched straight ahead and debouched into a large hall. The +other two led off at right angles, one to the left and one to the +right. Boisterous laughter emanated from the hall, and he could see +knights and other nobles sitting at a long banquet table. Scattered +among them were gentlewomen in rich silks, and hovering behind them +were servants bearing large demijohns. He grinned. Just as he had +figured--King Pelles was throwing a whingding. + +Quickly, Mallory turned down the left-hand corridor and started along +it, counting his footsteps. Rushes rustled beneath his feet, and the +flickering light of wall-torches gave him a series of grotesque +shadows. He saw no one: all the servants were in the banquet hall, +pouring wine and mead. He laughed aloud. + +Forty-eight paces sufficed to see him to the chamber door. It was a +perfectly ordinary door. Opening it, he thought at first that the room +beyond was ordinary, too. Then he saw the burning candles arranged +along the walls, and beneath them, standing in the center of the +floor, the table of silver. The table of the Sangraal.... + +There was no Sangraal on the table, however. There was no Sangraal in +the room, for that matter. There was a girl, though. She was huddled +forlornly in a corner, and she was crying. + + +II + +Mallory laid his spear aside, strode across the room, and raised the +girl to her feet. "The Sangraal," he said, forgetting in his agitation +the few odds and ends of Old English he had memorized. "Where is it!" + +She raised startled eyes that were as round, and almost as large, as +plums. Her face was round, too, and faintly childlike. Her hair was +dark-brown, and done up in a strange and indeterminate coiffeur that +was as charming as it was disconcerting. Her ankle-length dress was +white, and there was a bow on the bodice that matched the +plum-blueness of her eyes. A few cosmetics, properly applied, would +have turned her into an attractive woman, and even without them, she +rated a second look. + +She stared at him for some time, then, "Surely ye be an advision, +sir," she said. "I ... I know ye not." + +Mallory swung his shield around so that she could see the red cross. +"Now do you know me?" + +She gasped, and her eyes grew even rounder. "Sir ... Sir Galahad! Oh, +fair knight, wherefore did ye not say?" + +Mallory ignored the question. "The Sangraal," he repeated. "Where is +it?" + +Her tears had ceased temporarily; now they began again. "Oh, fair +sir!" she cried, "ye see tofore you, a damosel at mischief, the which +was given guardianship of the Holy Vessel at her own request, and +bewrayed her trust, a damosel--" + +"Never mind all that," Mallory said. "Where's the Sangraal?" + +"I wot not, fair sir." + +"But you must know if you were guarding it!" + +"I wot not whither it was taken." + +"But you must wot who took it." + +"Wot I well, fair knight. Sir Launcelot, the which is thy father, bare +it from the chamber." + +Mallory was stunned. "But that's impossible! My fa--Sir Launcelot +wouldn't steal the Sangraal!" + +"Well I wot, fair sir; yet steal it he did. Came he unto the chamber +and saith, I hight Sir Launcelot du Lake of the Table Round, whereat I +did see his armor to be none other; so then took he the Vessel +covered with the red samite and bare it with him from the chamber, +whereat I--" + +"How long ago?" + +"But a little while afore eight of the clock. Sithen I have wept. I +know now no good knight, nor no good man. And I know from thy holy +shield and from they good name that thou art a good knight, and I +beseech ye therefore to help me, for ye be a shining knight indeed, +wherefore ye ought not to fail no damosel which is in distress, and +she besought you of help." + +Mallory only half heard her. Sir Launcelot was too much with him. It +was inconceivable that a knight of such noble principles would even +consider touching the Sangraal, to say nothing of making off with it. +Maybe, though, his principles hadn't been quite as noble as they had +been made out to be. He had been Queen Guinevere's paramour, hadn't +he? He had lain with the fair Elaine, hadn't he? When you came right +down to it, he could very well have been a scoundrel at heart all +along--a scoundrel whose true nature had been toned down by writers +like Malory and poets like Tennyson. All of which, while it strongly +suggested that he was capable of stealing the Sangraal, threw not the +slightest light on his reason for having done so. Mallory was right +back where he had started from. + +He turned to the girl. "You said something about needing my help. What +do you want me to do?" + +Instantly, her tears stopped and she clasped her hands together and +looked at him with worshipful eyes. "Oh, fair sir, ye be most kind +indeed! Well I wot from thy shining armor that ye--" + +"Knock it off," Mallory said. + +"Knock it off? I wot not what--" + +"Never mind. Just tell me what you want me to do." + +"Ye must bear me from the castle, fair sir, or the king learns I have +bewrayed my trust and wreaks his wrath upon me. And then ye must help +me regain the Holy Cup and return it to this chamber." + +"We'll worry about getting the Cup back after we're beyond the walls," +Mallory said, starting for the door. "Come on--they're all in the +banquet hall and as drunk as lords--they won't even see us go by." + +She hung back. "But the warders, fair sir--they be not enchafed. And +King Pelles, by my own wish, did forbid them to pass me." + +Mallory stared at her. "By your own wish! Well of all the crazy--" +Abruptly he dropped the subject. "All right then--how _do_ we get out +of here?" + +"There lieth beneath the fortress and the forest a parlous passage +wherein dwells the fiend, the which I have much discomfit of. But with +ye aside me, fair knight, there is naught to fear." + +Mallory had read enough Malory to be able to take sixth-century fiends +in his stride. "I'll have to take my horse along," he said. "Is there +room for it to pass?" + +"Yea, fair sir. The tale saith that aforetime many knights did ride +out beneath the fortress and the forest and did smite the Saxons, +Saracens, and Pagans, the which did compass the castle about, from +behind, whereupon the battle was won." + +Mallory stepped outside the chamber, the girl just behind him, and +encephalopathed the necessary directions. After a moment, Easy Money +came trotting down the corridor to his side. The girl gasped, and, to +his astonishment, threw her arms around the rohorse's neck. "He is a +noble steed indeed, fair sir," she said; "and worthy of a knight +fitting to sit in the Siege Perilous." Presently she stepped back, +frowning. "He ... he is most cold, fair sir." + +"All horses of that breed are," Mallory explained. "Incidentally, his +name is 'Easy Money'." + +"La! such a strange name." + +"Not so strange." Mallory raised his visor, making a mental note to +see to it that any and all suits of armor he might buy in the future +were air-conditioned. He got his spear. "Let's be on our way, shall +we?" + +"Ye ... ye have blue eyes, fair sir." + +"Never mind the color of my eyes--let's get out of here." + +She seemed to make up her mind about something. "An ye will follow me, +sir knight," she said, and started down the corridor. + + * * * * * + +A ramp, the entrance of which was camouflaged by a rotating section of +the inner castle wall, gave access to the subterranean passage. The +passage itself, in the flickering light of the torch that the girl had +brought along, appeared at first to be nothing more than a natural +cave enlarged through the centuries by the stream that still flowed +down its center. Presently, however, Mallory saw that in certain +places the stone walls had been cut back in such a way that the space +on either side of the stream never narrowed to a width of less than +four feet. He saw other evidence of human handiwork too--dungeons. +They were little more than shallow caves now, though, their iron +gratings having rusted and fallen away. + +After proceeding half a hundred yards, he paused. "I don't know what +we're walking for when we've got a perfectly good horse at our +disposal," he told the girl. "Come on, I'll help you into the saddle +and I'll jump on behind." + +She shook her head. "No, fair knight, it is not fitting for a +gentlewoman to ride tofore her champion. Ye will mount, and I will +ride behind." + +"Suit yourself," Mallory said. He climbed into the saddle with a clank +and a clatter, and helped her up on Easy Money's croup. "By the way, +you never did tell me your name." + +"I hight the damosel Rowena." + +"Pleased to meet you," Mallory said. _Giddy-ap, Easy Money_, he +encephalopathed. + +They rode in silence for a little while, the light from Rowena's torch +dancing acappella rigadoons on bare walls and dripping ceilings, Easy +Money's hoofbeats hardly audible above the purling of the stream. +Presently Rowena said, "It were best that ye drew out thy sword, fair +sir, for anon the fiend will beset us." + +"He hasn't beset us yet," Mallory pointed out. + +"La! fair sir, he will." + +He saw no harm in humoring her, and did as she had suggested. "You +mentioned something a while back about having been given guardianship +of the Sangraal at your own request," he said. "How did that come +about?" + +"List, fair sir, and I will tell ye. But first I must tell ye of Sir +Bors de Ganis, of which Sir Lionel is brother. It happed one day that +Sir Bors did ride into a forest in the Kingdom of Mennes unto the hour +of midday, and there befell him a marvelous adventure. So he met at +the departing of the two ways two knights that led Lionel, his +brother, all naked, bounden upon a strong hackney, and his hands +bounden tofore his breast. And every each of them held in his hands +thorns wherewith they went beating him so sore that the blood trailed +down more than in an hundred places of his body, so that he was all +blood tofore and behind, but he said never a word; as he which was +great of heart he suffered all that ever they did to him as though he +had felt none anguish. + +"Anon Sir Bors dressed him to rescue him that was his brother; and so +he looked upon the other side of him, and saw a knight which brought a +fair gentlewoman, and would have set her in the thickest place of the +forest for to have been the more surer out of the way from them that +sought him. And she which was nothing assured cried with a high voice: +'Saint Mary succor your maid.' And anon she espied where Sir Bors came +riding. And when she came nigh him she deemed him a knight of the +Round Table, whereof she hoped to have some comfort; and then she +conjured him: By the faith that he ought unto him in whose service +thou art entered in, and for the faith ye owe unto the high order of +knighthood, and for the noble King Arthur's sake, that I suppose that +made thee knight, that thou help me, and suffer me not to be shamed of +this knight. When--" + +"Just a minute," Mallory interrupted, thoroughly bewildered and +simultaneously afflicted with an irrational sense of _deja vu_. "This +gentlewoman you speak of--would she by any chance be you?" + +"Wit ye well, fair sir. When--" + +"But if she's you, why don't you use the first person singular instead +of the third?" + +"I wot not what--" + +"Why don't you use 'I' instead of 'she' when you refer to yourself +directly?" + +"It would not be fitting, fair knight. When Bors heard her say thus he +had so much sorrow there he nyst not what to do. For if I let my +brother be in adventure he must be slain, and that would I not for all +the earth. And if I help not the maid she is shamed for ever, and +also she shall lose her virginity the which she shall never get again. +Then lift he up his eyes and said weeping: Fair sweet Lord, whose +liege man I am, keep Lionel, my brother, that these knights slay him +not, and for pity of you, and for Mary's sake, I shall succor this +maid. Then dressed he him unto the knight the which had the +gentlewoman, and then--" + + * * * * * + +"Hist!" Mallory whispered. "I heard something." + +For a moment the light flared wildly as though she had nearly dropped +the torch. "Wh ... whence came the sound, fair knight?" + +"From the other side of the stream." He peered into the vacillating +shadows, but saw nothing but the darker shadows of one of the +innumerable man-made caves. The sound he had heard had brought to mind +the dull clang that metal makes when it collides with stone, and it +had been so faint as to have been barely audible above the purling of +the stream. Thinking back, he was not altogether certain that he had +heard it at all. "My imagination's getting the best of me, I guess," +he said presently. "There's no one there." + +Her warm breath penetrated the crevices of his gorget and fanned the +back of his neck. "Ye ... ye ween not that it could have been the +fiend prowling?" + +"Of course I ween not! Relax, and finish your story. But get to the +point, will you?" + +"An ... an it so please.... And then Sir Bors cried: Sir knight, let +your hand off that maiden, or ye be but dead. And then he set down the +maiden, and was armed at all pieces save he lacked his spear. Then he +dressed his shield, and drew out his sword, and Bors smote him so hard +that it went through his shield and habergeon on the left shoulder. +And through great strength he beat him down to the earth, and at the +pulling out of Bors' spear there he swooned. Then came Bors to the +maid and said: How seemeth it to you of this knight ye be delivered at +this time? Now sir, said she, I pray you lead me there as this knight +had me. So shall I do gladly: and took the horse of the wounded +knight, and set the gentlewoman upon him, and so brought her as she +desired. Sir knight, said she, ye have better sped than ye weened, for +an I had lost my maidenhead, five hundred men should have died for it. +What knight was he that had you in the forest? By my faith, said she, +he is my cousin. So wot I never with what engyn the fiend enchafed +him, for yesterday he took me from my father privily; for I nor none +of my father's men mistrusted him not, and if he had had my maidenhead +he should have died for the sin, and his body shamed and dishonored +for ever. Thus as--" + +"_Shhh!_" + +This time, Mallory was certain that he had heard something. The sound +had had much in common with the previous sound, except that it had +suggested metal scraping against, rather than colliding with, stone. +Directly across the stream was another cave, this one shallow enough +to permit the torchlight to penetrate its deeper shadows, and looking +into those shadows, he caught a faint gleam of reflected light. + +Rowena must have caught it, too, for he heard her gasp behind him. "It +were best that I thanked ye now for thy great kindness, fair knight," +she said, "for anon we be no longer on live." + +"Nonsense!" Mallory said. "If this fiend of yours is anywhere in the +vicinity, he's probably more afraid of us than we are of him." + +The cave was behind them now. "Per ... peradventure he hath already +had meat," Rowena said hopefully. "The tale saith that and the fiend +be filled, he becomes aweary and besets not them the which do pass him +by in peace." + +"I'll keep my sword handy, just in case he changes his mind," Mallory +said. "Meanwhile, get on with your autobiography--only for Pete's +sake, cut it short, will you?" + +"An it please, fair sir. Thus as the fair gentlewoman stood talking +with Sir Bors there came twelve knights seeking after her, and anon +she told them all how Bors had delivered her; then they made great +joy, and besought him to come to her father, a great lord, and he +should be right welcome. Truly, said Bors, that may not be at this +time, for I have a great adventure to do in this country. So he +commended them unto God and departed. The fair gentlewoman did grieve +mickle to see him leave, and she saith, sir knights, noble was the +service that brave knight did render unto thy liege's daughter in the +saving of her maidenhead the which she could never get again, for that +be none other than his own brother the which he fauted. Therefore, +noble must be both his king and his cause, wherefore it be befitting +that a gentlewoman of thy liege's daughter's nature leave the castle +of her father betimes that she may render fitting service to her +succor's cause and be worthy of his deed. Thus spake this fair +gentlewoman, whereat she did mount upon her palfrey and so departed +her from thence and did ride as fast as her palfrey might bear her, +whereupon after many days she came to the castle of Carbonek and did +seek out King Pelles and did beseech him that she might be made +guardian of the Sangraal, whereat he did graciously consent to her +request and did consent also that she be made prisoner in the fortress +by her own wish. And now she was bewrayed her trust, fair sir, and the +table of silver whereon the Sangraal stood stands empty." + + * * * * * + +For some time after she finished talking, Mallory was silent. Was she +trying to pull his leg? he wondered. Or were the gentlewomen of her +day and age really as high-minded and as feathered-brained as she +would have him believe? He decided not to go into the matter for the +moment. "Tell me, Rowena," he said, "if the Sangraal is visible only +to those who are worthy of it, as I have been led to believe, how are +any of those wassailers whooping it up back there in that banquet +hall going to know whether it's gone or not?" + +"It be ofttimes averred that all cannot see the Holy Cup, as ye say, +fair knight. Natheless, all that have come unto the chamber sithen my +trust began, they did see it, and Sir Launcelot, the which is much +with sin, he did see it--and did take it." + +"He's not going to get very far with it, though," Mallory said. And +then, "How long is the tunnel anyway?" + +"Anon we shall see the stars, fair sir." + +She was right, and a few minutes later, after rounding a turn in the +passage, they emerged upon the bank of a small river. The subterranean +stream that had kept them company emerged, too, and joined its larger +sister on the way to the sea. On either hand, cliffs rose up, and the +susurrus of waves breaking on sand could be heard in the distance. + +Mallory guided Easy Money upstream to where the cliffs dwindled down +to thickly forested slopes. It took him but a moment to orientate +himself, and presently rohorse and riders were headed in the direction +of the highway. "Now," said he, "if you'll tell me where you want to +be dropped off, I'll see what I can do about getting the Grail back." + +There was a brief silence. Then, "An ... an ye wish, ye may leave me +here." + +He halted Easy Money, dismounted, and lifted her down to the ground. +He looked around, expecting to see a habitation of some sort. He saw +nothing but trees. He faced the girl again. "Don't you have any +friends or relatives you can stay with?" + +An argent shaft of moonlight slanting down through the foliage +illumined her face. "There be none nigh, fair sir, nor none nearer +than an hundred miles. I shall abide your again coming here in the +forest." + +Mallory stared at her. She didn't look--or act either, for that +matter--as though she knew enough to get in out of the rain. "Abide +here in the forest! Why, you wouldn't last a week!" + +"But ye will return hither with the Sangraal long afore that, +whereupon we two together shall return the Holy Vessel to the chamber +and I shall not be made to suffer the severing of my two hands." + +He was aghast. "They wouldn't dare cut off your hands!" + +"They dare much, fair knight. Know ye naught of the customs of the +land?" + +He was silent. What in the world was he going to do about her? She +would probably wait here for him until she starved to death or, +equally as distressing, until she was apprehended. Abruptly he +shrugged his shoulders--to the extent that his pauldrons +permitted--and remounted the rohorse. Why should it matter to him what +became of her? He'd returned to the Age of Chivalry to steal the +Sangraal, not to play nursemaid to damosels in distress. "Don't take +any wooden nickels now," he said. + +Two tiny stars appeared in the pale regions of her eyes and twinkled +down her cheeks. "May the good Lord speed ye upon thy quest, fair +knight, and may He guard ye well." + +"Oh, for Pete's sake!" Mallory said, and reaching down, pulled her up +onto Easy Money's croup. "I have a castle not far from here. I'll drop +you off, then I'll go after the Sangraal." + +Her breath was warm little wind seeping through the crevices of his +gorget. "Oh, fair sir, ye be the noblest of all the knights in all the +land, and I shall serve thee faithfully for the rest of my days!" + +The rohorse whinnied. _Giddy-ap, Easy Money_, Mallory encephalopathed, +and they started out. + + +III + +Rowena fell for the _Yore_ hook, line, and sinker. Not even the modern +interior gave her pause. Those objects which happened to be beyond her +ken--and there were many of them--she interpreted as "appointments +befitting a noble knight," and as for the rooms themselves, she merely +identified them with the rooms out of her own experience that they +most closely resembled. Thus the rec-hall became "the banquet hall," +the supply room became "the kitchen," the control room became "the +sorcerer's tower," the tourist compartments became "the sleeping +tower," Mallory's bedroom-office became "the lord's quarters," the +lavatory became "the chapel," and the generator room became "the +dungeon." Only two things disconcerted her: the absence of servants +and the fact that Easy Money was stabled in the banquet hall. Mallory +got around the first by telling her that he had given the servants a +leave of absence, and she herself got around the second by declaring +it to be no more than fitting for such a splendid steed to be accorded +special treatment. Certainly, Mallory reflected, she was nothing if +she was not co-operative. + +After showing her around he wasted no time in getting down to the +business on hand, and stepping into the control room, he punched out +the data necessary to take the _Yore_ back to 7:15 p.m. of the same +day, and to re-materialize it one half mile west of its present +position, as an overlap was bound to occur. There was a barely +noticeable tremor as the transition took place, and simultaneously the +darkness showing on the control-room telewindow transmuted to dusk. + +Turning away from the jump board, he saw Rowena regarding him with +large eyes from the doorway. "We're now back to a point in time that +precedes the theft of the Sangraal," he told her, "and we're relocated +farther down the valley. But don't let it throw you. None other than +Merlin himself built the magic apparatus you see before you in this +room, and you know yourself that once he makes up his mind to it, +Merlin can do anything." + +She blinked once, but evinced no other signs of surprise. "Yea, fair +sir," she said, "I am ware of the magic of Merlin." + +"However," Mallory went on, "magic such as this isn't something for a +gentlewoman such as yourself to fool around with, so I must forbid you +to enter this room during my absence from the castle. Also, while +we're on the subject, I must also forbid you to leave the castle +during my absence. Merlin would be upset no end if there were two +damosels that hight Rowena gallivanting around the countryside at the +same time." + +She blinked again. "By my troth, fair sir," she said, "I would lever +die than disobey thy two commands." And then, "Have ye ate any meat +late?" + +This time, Mallory blinked, "Meat?" + +"It is fitting that ye should eat meat afore ye ride out." + +"Oh, you mean food. I'll eat when I get back. But there's no need for +you to wait." He took her into the supply room and showed her where +the vacuum tins were stored. "You open them like this," he explained, +pulling one out and activating the desealer. "Then, as soon as the +contents cool off a little, you sit down to dinner." + +"But this be not meat," she objected. + +"Maybe not, but it's a good substitute, and a lot better for you." A +thought struck him, and he took her into the lavatory and showed her +how to operate the hot and cold-water dispenser, ascribing the setup +to more of Merlin's magic. He debated on whether to explain the +function and purpose of the adjacent shower, decided not to. There was +a limit to all things, and an apparatus for washing one's whole body +was simply too farfetched for anyone living in the sixth-century to +take seriously. + +Back in the rec-hall, he donned his helmet and gauntlets, reset the +gauntlet timepiece, picked up his spear and encephalopathed Easy Money +to his side. Mounting, he set the spear in the stirrup socket. Rowena +gazed up at him, plum-blue eyes round with awe and admiration--and +concern. "Wit ye well, fair sir," she said, "that Sir Launcelot, the +which is thy father, is a knight of many victories, and therefore ye +must take care." + +Mallory grinned. "Dismay you not, fair damsel, I'll smite him from his +steed before he can say 'Queen Guinevere'." He straightened his sword +belt, activated the _Yore's_ lock, and rode across the mirage-moat and +entered the forest. The "portcullis" closed behind him. + + * * * * * + +Dusk had become darkness by the time he reached the highway. +Approximately half an hour later he would reach the highway again. +However, the seeming paradox did not disconcert him in the least: this +was far from being the first time he had backtracked himself on a job. + +[Illustration] + +As "before," he spurned the shadows of the bordering oaks and beeches +and encephalopathed Easy Money to keep to the center of the lane. And, +as "before," no one was abroad. Probably King Pelles' wassail was +already in progress, or, if not, the goodly knights and gentlewomen +were still at evensong. In any event, he reached the lane that led to +the castle of Carbonek without mishap. + +After entering the lane, he encephalopathed Easy Money into the +concealment of the shadows of the bordering trees and settled back in +the saddle to wait. Rowena's placing the time of the theft at "a +little while afore eight of the clock" had been a general estimate at +best; hence he had allowed himself plenty of leeway and had arrived on +the scene a little early. It was well that he had, for hardly a minute +passed before he heard hoofbeats approaching from the south, and +presently he saw a tall knight astride a resplendent steed turn into +the lane. His armor gleamed in the moonlight and bespoke a quality and +class that only a knight of Sir Launcelot's status would be able to +afford. + +Mallory watched him ride down the lane to the lion-flanked entrance +and heard him announce himself as "Sir Launcelot". The portcullis was +raised without delay, and the knight rode through the gateway and +disappeared from view. + +Mallory frowned in the darkness. Something about the incident had +failed to jibe. He thought back, but he could isolate nothing that, in +retrospect anyway, seemed in the least incongruous. He tried again, +with the same result, and at length he concluded that the note of +discord had originated in his imagination. + +Again, he settled back to wait. He wasn't particularly worried about +the outcome of the forthcoming encounter--the superiority of the +weapons and armor should be more than enough to see him through--but +just the same he wished there was some way to avoid it. There wasn't, +of course. Sir Launcelot's theft of the Sangraal was already +incorporated in fact, and, as a _fait accompli_, could not be obviated +by a previous theft. All Mallory could do was to make his move after +the _fait acccompli_ in the hope that that was when he _had_ made his +move. A time-thief didn't have nearly as much leeway as his seeming +freedom of movement might lead the uninitiated to believe. About all +he could do was to play along with destiny and await his +opportunities. If destiny smiled, he succeeded; if destiny frowned, he +did not. However, Mallory was optimistic about his forthcoming bid for +the Grail, for if it wasn't in the books for him to wrest the Cup from +Sir Launcelot, the chances were he wouldn't have gotten as far as he +had. + +He estimated that it would take the man five minutes to enter the +castle, proceed to the chamber, seize the Sangraal, return to the +courtyard and come riding back to the portcullis. Seven minutes proved +to be nearer the mark. In response to a hail from within the wall, +several of the warders bent to the windlass, whereupon the portcullis +scraped and groaned aloft, and the tall knight came riding out just as +the hands of Mallory's timepiece registered 7:43 p.m. + +Mallory let him pass, straining his eyes in vain for a glimpse of the +Sangraal. He waited till Sir Launcelot was half a hundred yards down +the highway before he encephalopathed Easy Money to follow, and he +waited till a bend in the road hid the castle of Carbonek from view +before encephalopathing the command to charge. At this point, Sir +Launcelot became aware that he was no longer alone, and wheeled his +steed around. Without an instant's hesitation, he dressed his spear +and launched a counter-charge. All Mallory could think of was a +twentieth-century steam locomotive bearing down upon him. + +He swallowed grimly, "aventred" his own spear, and upped Easy Money's +pace. Two could play at being locomotives. The approaching knight and +steed loomed larger; the sound of hoofbeats crescendoed into staccato +thunder. The spear pointing straight toward Mallory's breastplate had +something of the aspect of a jet-propelled flagpole. Hurriedly, he got +his shield into position. Maybe the man would spot the red cross, +realize its significance, and slow down. + +If he spotted it, he gave no sign, and only came the faster. Mallory +braced himself for the forthcoming impact. However, the impact never +occurred. At the last moment his antagonist directed the spearpoint at +Mallory's helmet, did something that made it separate itself from the +shaft to the accompaniment of a gout of incandescence and come +streaking through the air like a little comet. Mallory tried to dodge, +but he would have been equally as successful if he had tried to dodge +a real comet. There was a deafening _clang!_ in the region of his left +audio-amplifier, and the whole left side of his face went numb. Just +before he blacked out he saw the oncoming knight veer his steed, wheel +it around, and ride off. A peal of all-too-familiar laughter drifted +back over the man's shoulder. + + * * * * * + +"Now," said the rent-a-robogogue, "you will try again: 'A' is for +'Atom', 'B' is for 'Bomb', 'C' is for 'Conform', 'D' is for 'Dollar', +'E' is for 'Economy', and 'F' is for 'Fun'. What comes after 'F'?" + +The boy Mallory squirmed in his ABC chair. "I don't know what comes +next and I don't care!" + +"I'll box your ears," the rent-a-robogogue threatened. + +"You wouldn't dare!" + +"Yes I would--I'm a physical-chastisement model, you know. Now, we'll +try once more: 'A' is for 'Atom', 'B' is for 'Bomb', 'C' is for +'Conform', 'D' is for 'Dollar', 'E' is for 'Economy', and 'F' is for +'Fun'. What comes after 'F'?" + +"I told you that I didn't know and that I didn't care!" + +"I warned you," said the rent-a-robogogue. + +"Ow!" the boy Mallory cried. + +"Ow!" the man Mallory groaned, sitting up in the weeds beside the +early sixth-century highway. + +All was silence around him, if you discounted the stridulations of +insects and the _be-ke korak-korak-korak_ of frogs. A few yards away, +Easy Money stood immobile in the moonlight. Mallory raised his hand +to his helmet and felt the sizable dent that the spearpoint had made. +Gingerly, he took the helmet off. Who in the world would have dreamed +that they had jet-rifles in this day and age! + +The absurdity of the thought snapped him back to full awareness. A +moment later he remembered the peal of familiar laughter. + +Perfidion! + +The man must have wanted the Grail desperately to have come after it +himself, which meant that it was probably worth much more than he had +let on. But how had he known when and where to essay the lift? More +specifically, how had he found out when and where to essay the lift on +such short notice? + +Mallory thought back. He was reasonably certain that he had made no +slips of the tongue during his visit to the Perfidion Tower and during +the ensuing game of golp, and he was equally certain that he had let +fall no revealing references to the place-time he had so carefully +pinpointed. Where, then, had he gone astray? + +Suddenly, way back in his mind, Perfidion said, "By the way, Tom, I +take it you're all set as regards costume, equipment and the like." + +"I've got the sweetest little suit of armor you ever laid eyes on," +Mallory heard himself answer. + +He swore. So that was it! All Perfidion had needed to do was to make +the rounds of the costumers who specialized in armor, and to shell out +a few Kennedees to the one Mallory had patronized last. Then, in +possession of the knowledge that Mallory was embarking into the past +as Sir Galahad, all Perfidion had had to do was to consult one of the +many experts he kept at his beck and call. The expert had undoubtedly +told him where Sir Galahad was supposed to have found the Grail before +taking it to Sarras, and, equally as important, approximately when the +event was supposed to have taken place. Further questions could not +have failed to elicit the additional information that Sir Launcelot +had come to the chamber of the Sangraal before Sir Galahad had, and +from this Perfidion had undoubtedly deduced that Sir Launcelot could +very well have been a time-thief in disguise, too, and that the man, +having arrived on the scene first, could very well have been +responsible for the Grail's so-called return to Heaven, despite what +legend said to the contrary. Certainly it had been a gamble worth +taking, and obviously Perfidion had taken it. + +And won the jackpot. + +But that didn't mean he was going to keep the jackpot. Not by a long +shot. Mallory encephalopathed Easy Money to his side and pulled +himself to his feet with the help of the left stirrup and hung his +helmet on the pommel. Then he picked up his spear and clambered into +the saddle. "We're not beat yet, Easy Money," he said. _Giddy-ap!_ + +Easy Money whinnied, stamped its feet, and started back toward the +_Yore_. A short while later they passed the lane that led to the +castle of Carbonek. Presently Mallory heard the _clip-clop_ of +approaching hoofbeats, and not wanting to risk an encounter in his +weakened condition, he encephalo-guided the rohorse off the highway +and into the deep shadows of a big oak. There was something +tantalizingly familiar about the horse and rider coming down the +highway. Small wonder: the "horse" was Easy Money and the rider was +himself. He was on his way to the castle of Carbonek to lift the Holy +Grail. + +Mallory gazed after his retreating figure disgustedly. "Sucker!" he +said. + + +IV + +Rowena nearly threw a fit when Mallory rode into the rec-hall. "Oh, +fair knight, ye be sorely wounded indeed!" she cried, helping him down +from his rohorse. "Certes, an ye bleed so much ye may die!" + +Mallory's head was throbbing, and he saw two damosels that hight +Rowena instead of only one. "I'll be all right after I lie down for a +while," he said. "And don't worry about the bleeding--it's almost +stopped." + +He took a step in the direction of his bedroom office, staggered and +would have fallen if she hadn't caught his arm. Her strength +astonished him: for all the lightness of his armor, it still lent him +an over-all weight of some two hundred and ten pounds; and yet the +shoulder which she provided for him to lean on did not give once all +the way to his bedside. She had his pauldrons, breastplate, and +arm-coverings off in no time flat. His cuisses, greaves, and sollerets +followed. The last he remembered was lying there in his under garments +and his chain-mail vest with three faces swimming in the misted sea of +his vision, each of them invested with the peculiar beauty that +concern, and concern alone, can grant. + +"How is mammakin's little man now?" the rent-a-mammakin asked, +applying soothing sedasalve to the boy Mallory's swollen ear. + +"He hit me, mammakin," the boy Mallory sobbed. "Just because I +wouldn't tell him that 'G' stands for 'Geography'. I hate geography! I +hate it, hate it, hate it!" + +"Nasty old rent-a-robogogue! Mammakin sent him away. He was an old +model that got rented out by mistake. Is mammakin's little man's ear +all right now?" + +The boy Mallory sat up. "I want my real--" he began. + +The man Mallory sat up. "I want my real--" he began. + +"I have great joy of thy swift recovery, fair sir," Rowena said. + +She was perched on the edge of his bed, applying a cool and soothing +ointment to his ear. On the table by the bed lay a basin of water, and +on her lap lay a pink tube. He grabbed the tube, looked at the label. +_Sedasalve_. He sighed with relief. "Where did you find it?" he +asked. + +"La! fair sir, when ye did seem no longer on live I did run both +toward and forward in the castle seeking a magical salve whereby I +might succor ye, whereupon I did come to a white box in the chapel +wherein lay many magical tubes of diverse colors and natures whereof I +did choose one and--" + +Mallory was incredulous. "You chose a tube at random?" he demanded. +"Good Lord, it might have contained a counteragent that could have +killed me!" + +"The ... the letters thereon seemed of a magical nature, fair knight. +And ... and the color was seemly." + +"Well anyway it was the right one." He looked at her. Could she read? +he wondered. He was tempted to ask her, but refrained for fear of +embarrassing her. "In that same white box," he said, "you will find a +big bottle filled with round red pellets. Would you get it for me?" + +When she returned with it, he took two of the pills, then he laid his +head back on the pillow. "They'll restore the blood I lost," he +explained, "but in order for them to do the job properly I've got to +lie perfectly still for at least one hour." + +She sat down on the edge of the bed. "Marry! the magic of Merlin is +marvelous, albeit not as marvelous as the magic of Joseph of +Arimathea." + +"What did he do that was so marvelous?" + +The plum-blue eyes were fixed full upon his face. "Ye wit naught of +the tale of the white shield ye bear, fair sir? List, and I will tell +ye: + +"It befell after the passion of our Lord thirty-two year, that Joseph +of Arimathea, the gentle knight, the which took down our Lord off the +holy Cross, at that time departed from Jerusalem with a great party of +his kindred with him. And so he labored till that they came to a city +that hight Sarras. And at that same hour that Joseph came to Sarras +there was a king that hight Evelake, that had great war against the +Saracens, and in especially against one Saracen, the which was King +Evelake's cousin, a rich king and a mighty, which marched nigh this +land, and his name was called Tolleme la Feintes. So on a day these +two met to do battle. Then Joseph, the son of Joseph of Arimathea, +went to King Evelake and told him he should be discomfit and slain, +but if he left his belief of the old law and believed upon the new +law. And then there he showed him the right belief of the Holy +Trinity, to the which he agreed unto with all his heart; and there +this shield was made for King Evelake, in the name of Him that died +upon the Cross. And then--" + +"Hold it a minute," Mallory said. "This shield you've finally got +around to mentioning--is it the same one you set out to tell me +about?" + +"Wit ye well, fair sir. And then through King Evelake's good belief he +had the better of King Tolleme. For when Evelake was in the battle +there was a cloth set afore the shield, and when he was in the +greatest peril he left put away the cloth, and then his enemies saw a +figure of a man on the Cross, wherethrough they all were discomfit. +And so it befell that a man of King Evelake's was smitten his hand +off, and bare that hand in his other hand; and Joseph called that man +unto him and bade him go with good devotion touch the Cross. And as +soon as that man had touched the Cross with his hand it was as whole +as ever it was tofore. Then soon after there fell a great marvel, that +the cross of the shield at one time vanished away that no man wist +where it became. And then King Evelake was baptized, and for the most +part all the people of that city. So, soon after Joseph would depart, +and King Evelake would go with him whether he would or nold. And so by +fortune they came into this land, that at that time was called Great +Britain: and there they found a great felon paynim, that put Joseph +into prison. And so--" + +"A great _what_?" Mallory asked. In one sense the story was familiar +to him, but what bothered him was the fact that it was familiar in +another sense too--a sense he couldn't put his finger on. + +"A wicked unbeliever in our Lord. And so by fortune tidings came unto +a worthy man that hight Mondrames, and he assembled all his people for +the great renown he had heard of Joseph; and so he came into the land +of Great Britain and disinherited this felon paynim and consumed him; +and therewith delivered Joseph out of prison. And after that all the +people were turned to the Christian faith. + +"Not long after that Joseph was laid in his deadly bed. And when King +Evelake say that he made much sorrow, and said: For thy love I have +left my country, and sith ye shall depart out of this world, leave me +some token of yours that I may think on you. Joseph said: That will I +do full gladly; now bring me your shield that I took you when ye went +into battle against King Tolleme. Then Joseph bled at the nose, so +that he might not by no means be staunched. And there upon that shield +he made a cross of his own blood. Now may ye see a remembrance that I +love you, for ye shall never see this shield but ye shall think on me, +and it shall be always as fresh as it is now. And never shall man bear +this shield about his neck but he shall repent it, unto the time that +Galahad, the good knight, bare it; and the last of my lineage shall +have it about his neck, that shall do many marvelous deeds. Now, said +King Evelake, where shall I put this shield, that this worthy knight +may have it? Ye shall leave it there as Nacien, the hermit, shall be +put after his death; for thither shall that good knight come the +fifteenth day after that he shall receive the order of knighthood: and +so...." + + * * * * * + +When Mallory awoke, Rowena's head was resting on his chest, and she +was breathing the soft and even breaths of untroubled sleep. Her hair, +viewed thus closely, was not as dark as he had at first believed it to +be. It was brown, really, rather than dark-brown. And astonishingly +lustrous. Without thinking, he rested his hand lightly upon her head. +She stirred then, and sat up, rubbing her plum-blue eyes. For a +moment she stared at him uncomprehendingly, then, "Prithee forgive me, +fair sir," she said. + +Mallory sat up, too. "Forgive you for what? Go open a couple of vacuum +tins while I get into my armor--I'm going to bring this caper to a +close." + +"Thy ... thy strength has returned?" + +"I never felt better in my life." + +In the rec-hall he said, sitting down at the table before one of the +two vacuum tins she had opened, "You never did ask me what happened." + +"Ye will tell me of thy own will an ye wish me to know." + +Mallory took a mouthful of simulsteak, chewed and swallowed. "Your Sir +Launcelot turned out to be a phony, and pulled a rabbit out of his +helmet the nature of which I'd better not try to describe to you." + +Eyes round as plums, she regarded him across the table. "A ... a +phony, fair sir?" + +Mallory nodded. "That's a sort of felon paynim who plays golp." + +"But with my own eyes I did see his armor, fair knight." + +"That's right--you saw his armor. But you didn't see him. A certain +character by the name of Perfidion was residing behind that +hardware--not the good Sir Launcelot." + +"Perfidion?" + +Mallory grinned. "Sir Jason Perfidion--a knight errant ye wit not of. +But the tournament's not over yet, and this time _I've_ got the +rabbit: he thinks I'm dead." + +"He ... he left ye for dead, fair sir?" + +"That he did, and if that little brain-buster of his had struck just +one inch to the right, I'd have been just that." He shoved his empty +vacuum tin away and stood up. "Excuse me a minute--I've got to visit +the sorcerer's tower again." + +In the control room, he took the _Yore_ back to 7:20 p.m. of the same +day and re-materialized it half a mile farther down the valley. +Turning, he saw that Rowena had followed him and was watching him from +the doorway. "Whereabouts may I find oats that I may feed thy horse, +fair knight?" she asked. + +"Easy Money doesn't eat. He--" Mallory paused astonished as two of the +largest tears he had ever seen coalesced in her eyes and went tumbling +down her cheeks. "Oh, it's not that he's sick," he rushed on. "It's +just that horses like him don't require food to keep them going. Why, +Easy Money's guaranteed for ... he'll live another thirty years." + +The sun came up beyond the plum-blue horizons of her eyes. "It +pleaseth me mickle to hear ye speak thus, fair knight. I ... I have +great joy of him." + +Back in the rec-hall, Mallory pulled on his gauntlets, reset his +timepiece, and donned his helmet. The left audio-amplifier was shot, +but otherwise the piece was in good condition--aside from the dent, of +course. He encephalopathed Easy Money to his side, hung his shield +around his neck, and mounted. "Hand me my spear, will you, Rowena?" he +asked. + +She did so. "Ye be a most noble knight indeed, fair sir," she said, +"for to set so little store by thine own life in the service of a +damosel the which is undeserving of thy deeds. I ... I would lever +that ye forsook the Sangraal than that ye be fordone." + +Her concern touched him, and he removed his helmet and leaned down and +kissed her on the forehead. "Keep the home fires burning," he said; +then, setting his helmet back in place, he activated the lock, rode +across the mirage-moat, and set forth into the forest once again. + + +V + +This time when he reached the crest of the ridge that separated the +two valleys, Mallory took an azimuth on the towers of Carbonek, +encephalo-fed the direction to Easy Money, and programmed the "animal" +to proceed in as straight a course as possible. + +In the east, the moon was just beginning to rise; in the west, traces +of the sunset lingered blood-red just above the horizon. On the +highway below, a knight sitting astride a brown rohorse and bearing a +white shield with a red cross in the center was riding toward Carbonek +to challenge a twenty-second century "felon paynim" in imitation +Age-of-Chivalry armor. In the valley Mallory had just left behind him +there were two castles named _Yore_, and soon, a third would pop into +existence and yet another Mallory come riding out. Mallory grinned. It +was a little bit like playing chess. + +The forest which Easy Money presently entered was parklike in places, +and sometimes the trees thinned out into wide, moonlit meadows. +Crossing one of the meadows, Mallory saw the first star, and when at +length Easy Money emerged on the highway, the heavens were decked out +in typical midsummer panoply. The rohorse had followed its programming +almost perfectly and had emerged at a point just south of the lane +leading to the castle of Carbonek. All Mallory had to do was to +encephalo-guide it farther down the highway to a point beyond the site +of the forthcoming joust. While doing so, he kept well within the +concealing shadows of the bordering oaks and beeches where the ground +was soft and could give forth no telltale _clip-clop_ of hoofbeats. +His circumspection proved wise--as in one sense, of course, it already +had--and when the false Sir Launcelot came riding by on his way to the +castle and the chamber of the Sangraal, he was no more aware of +Mallory III's presence by the roadside than he would presently be +aware of Mallory II's presence in the shadows of the trees that +bordered the lane. + +Mallory III grinned again and brought Easy Money to a halt just beyond +the next bend. "Wit ye well, Sir Jason, that thy hours be numbered," +he said. + +He remained seated in the saddle, feeling pretty good about the +world. In no time at all, if his one-man ambuscade came off, he would +be on his way back to the _Yore_, and thence to the twenty-second +century and a haircut. Selling the Sangraal without the aid of a +professional time-fence like Perfidion would be difficult, of course, +but it could be done, and once it was done, he, Mallory, could take +his place on Get-Rich-Quick Street with the best of them, and no +questions would be asked. There was, to be sure, the problem of what +to do about a certain damosel that hight Rowena, but he would face +that when he came to it. Maybe he could drop her off a dozen years in +the future in a region far enough removed from Carbonek to ensure her +safety. He would see. + +[Illustration] + +At this point in his reflections he was jolted into alertness by the +sound of approaching hoofbeats. A moment later he heard a second set +of hoofbeats and knew that Mallory II had made his presence known. +Presently both sets crescendoed into staccato thunder as the two +"knights" came pounding toward each other, and not long afterward +there was a clank and a clatter as Mallory II went tumbling out of his +saddle and into the roadside weeds. Finally the single set of +hoofbeats took over again, and Mallory III saw a horse and rider +coming around the bend in the highway. He braced himself. + +Before making his play, he waited till horse and rider were directly +opposite him; then he encephalopathed Easy Money to charge. "Sir +Launcelot" managed to get his shield up in time, but the maneuver did +him no good. Mallory's spearhead struck the shield dead center, and +"Sir Launcelot" went sailing out of his saddle to land with an awesome +clatter flat on his back on the highway. He did not get up. + +Dismounting, Mallory removed the man's helmet. It was Perfidion all +right. There was a large bruise on the side of his head and he was out +cold, but he was still breathing. Next, Mallory looked for the +Sangraal. Perfidion had concealed it somewhere, and apparently he had +done the job well. Since the armor could not have accommodated an +object of that size, the hiding place had to be somewhere on the body +of his horse. The horse was standing quietly beside Easy Money in the +middle of the highway. It was jet-black and its fetlock-length +trappings were blue, threaded with silver; otherwise, the two steeds +were identical. Mallory tumbled to the truth then, went over to where +the black "horse" was standing, raised its trappings, found the tiny +activator button, and depressed it. The croup-hood rose up, and there +in the secret compartment, wrapped in red samite, lay the cause of the +mounting absentee-rate in King Arthur's court. + +Always the skeptic, Mallory raised a corner of the samite in order to +make certain that he was not being cheated. Instantly, a reflected ray +of moonlight stabbed upward into his eyes, and for a moment he was +blinded. Exorcising the thought that sneaked into his mind, he closed +the croup-hood, rearranged the trappings, and returned to Perfidion's +side. Dragging the armor-encumbered man over to the black rohorse and +slinging him over the saddle was no easy matter, but Mallory managed; +then he picked up Perfidion's helmet and spear and set the former on +the pommel and wedged the latter in one of the stirrups. Finally he +mounted Easy Money and, encephalopathing the black rohorse to follow, +set out down the highway away from the castle of Carbonek. + +Make-believe castles could fool the hadbeens, but they couldn't fool a +professional. He spotted the phony towers of Perfidion's TSB rising +above the trees before he had proceeded half a mile. After raising the +"portcullis", he got the man down from the black rohorse, dragged him +inside, and propped him against the rec-hall bar. Then he got the +man's helmet and spear and laid them beside him. After considerable +reflection, he went into the control room, set the time-dial for June +10, 1964, the space-dial for a busy intersection in downtown Los +Angeles, and punched out H-O-T-D-O-G S-T-A-N-D on the lumillusion +panel. Satisfied, he went into the generator room and short-circuited +the automatic throw-out unit so that when rematerialization took +place, the generator would burn up. Finding a ball of heavy-duty +twine, he returned to the control room, tied one end to the master +switch, and began backing out of the TSB, unwinding the twine as he +went. + +In the rec-hall, he paused, and grinned down at the still-unconscious +Perfidion. "It's a better break than you meant to give me, Jason," he +said. "And don't worry--once you explain to the authorities what +you're doing in a suit of sixth-century armor and how you happened to +open a giant hot-dog stand in the middle of a traffic-clogged +crossroads, you'll be all right. As a matter of fact, with your +knowledge of things to come, you'll probably wind up a richer man than +you are now--if the smog doesn't get you first." He stepped through +the lock, jerked the twine, and the "castle" vanished into thin air. + +Remounting Easy Money and encephalopathing the black rohorse to +follow, he started back toward the _Yore_, taking a direct route +through the forest. He was halfway to his destination and had just +emerged into a wide meadow when he saw the knight with the white +shield riding toward him in the bright moonlight. In the center of the +shield there was a vivid blood-red cross. + +When the knight saw Mallory, he brought his steed to a halt. Moonlight +glimmered eerily on his shield, turned his helmet to silver. His armor +seemed to emit an unearthly light--a light that was at once terrifying +and transcendent. The hilt of his sword was as blood-red as the cross +on his shield; so was the pommel of his spear. Here was righteousness +incarnate. Here in the form of an armored man on horseback was the +quintessence of the Age of Chivalry--not the Age of Chivalry as +exemplified by the vain and boasting nobles who had constituted +nine-tenths of the knight-errantry profession and who had used the +quest of the Holy Grail as an excuse to seek after mead and maidens, +but the Age of Chivalry as it might have been if the ideal behind it +had been shared by the many instead of by the few; the Age of +Chivalry, in short, as it had come down to posterity through the pages +of Malory's _Le Morte d'Arthur_. + +At length the knight spoke: "I hight Sir Galahad of the Table Round." + +Reluctantly, Mallory encephalopathed his two rohorses to halt, and +said the only thing he had left to say: "I hight Sir Thomas of the +castle _Yore_." + +"By whose leave bear ye likenesses of the red arms and the white +shield whereon shines the red cross the which was put there by Joseph +of Arimathea whilst he lay dying in his deadly bed?" + +Mallory did not answer. + +There was silence. Then, "I would joust with ye," Sir Galahad said. + +There it was, laid right on the line. The challenge-- + +The death sentence. + +Nonsense! Mallory told himself. He's nothing but a nineteen-year old +kid. With your rohorse and your superior weapons you can unseat him in +two seconds flat, and once he's down, that glorified junk pile he's +wearing will glue him to the ground so fast he won't be able to lift a +finger! + +Aloud, he said, "Have at me then!" + +Instantly, Sir Galahad wheeled his horse around and rode to the far +side of the meadow. There, he wheeled the horse around again and +dressed his spear. Moonlight danced a silvery saraband on his white +shield, and the blood-red cross blurred and seemed to run. + +Mallory dressed his own spear. Immediately, Sir Galahad charged. +_Full speed ahead, Easy Money!_ Mallory encephalopathed, and the +rohorse took off like a rocket. + +All he had to do was to hang on tight, and the joust would be in the +bag, he reassured himself. Sir Galahad's spear would break like a +matchstick, while his own superior spear would penetrate Sir Galahad's +shield as though the shield was made of tissue paper, as in a sense it +really was when you compared the metal that constituted it to modern +alloys. No matter how you looked at the situation, the kid was in for +a big letdown. Mallory almost felt sorry for him. + +The hoofbeats of horse and rohorse crescendoed; there was the +resounding clang! of steel coming into violent contact with steel. +Mallory's spear struck Sir Galahad's shield dead center--and snapped +in two. Sir Galahad's spear struck Mallory's shield dead center--and +Mallory sailed over Easy Money's croup and crashed to the ground. + +He was stunned, both mentally and physically. Staggering to his feet, +he drew his sword and raised his shield. Sir Galahad had wheeled his +horse around, and now he came riding back. Several yards from Mallory, +he tossed his spear aside, dismounted as lightly as though he wore no +armor at all, drew his sword, and advanced. Mallory stepped forward, +his confidence returning. His spear had been defective--that was it. +But his sword and his shield weren't, and now that the kid had elected +to give him a sporting chance, he would teach the young upstart a +lesson that he would never forget. + +Again, the two men came together. Down came Sir Galahad's sixth +century sword; up went Mallory's twenty-second century shield. There +was an ear-piercing _clang_, and the shield parted down the middle. + +Aghast, Mallory stepped back. Sir Galahad moved in, sword upraised +again. Mallory raised his own sword, caught the full force of the +terrific down-rushing blow on the blade. His sword was cut cleanly in +two, his left pauldron was cleanly cleaved, and a great numbness +afflicted his left shoulder. He went down. + +He stayed down. + +Sir Galahad leaned over him, unbroken sword uplifted. The cross in the +center of the snow-white shield was a bright and burning red. "Ye must +yield you as an overcome man, or else I may slay you." + +"I yield," Mallory said. + +Sir Galahad sheathed his sword. "Ye be not sorely wounded, and sithen +I desire not neither of they two steeds, as belike they be as unworthy +as they pieces, ye can return to thy castle unholpen." + + * * * * * + +Mallory blacked out for a moment, and when he came to, the shining +knight was gone. + +He lay there in the moonlight for some time, looking up at the stars. +At length he fought his way to his feet and encephalopathed the two +rohorses to his side. Mounting Easy Money, he encephalopathed it to +return to the westernmost "castle of Yore" and encephalopathed the +other rohorse to follow. He left his broken weapons where they lay. + +What had gone out of the world during the last sixteen hundred years +that had left sophisticated twenty-second century steel inferior in +quality to naive sixth-century wrought iron? What did Sir Galahad have +that he, Mallory, lacked? Mallory shook his head. He did not know. + +The moonlit "towers" of the _Yore_ had become visible through the +trees before it occurred to him that before riding away the man just +might have removed the Sangraal from the black rohorse's croup. At +first thought, such a possibility was too absurd to be entertained, +but not on second thought. According to _Le Morte d'Arthur_, the +fellowship of Sir Galahad, Sir Percivale, and Sir Bors had taken both +the table of silver and the Sangraal to Sarras where, some time later, +the Sangraal had been "borne up to heaven", never to be seen again. +Whether they had taken the table of silver did not concern Mallory, +but what did concern him was the fact that if they had taken the +Sangraal they could have done so only if it had fallen into Sir +Galahad's hands this very night. Tomorrow would be too late--now was +too late, in fact--provided, of course, that Mallory was destined to +return with it to the twenty-second century. Here, then, was the +crossroads, the real moment of truth: was he destined to succeed, or +wasn't he? + +Hurriedly, he encephalopathed the two rohorses to halt, dismounted, +and raised the black rohorse's trappings. He was dizzy from the loss +of blood, but he did not let his dizziness dissuade him from his +purpose, and he had the croup-hood raised in a matter of a few +seconds. He held his breath when he looked within, expelled it with +relief. The Sangraal had not been disturbed. + +He lifted it out of the croup-compartment, straightened its red samite +covering, and cradled it in his arms. Too weak to remount Easy Money, +he encephalopathed the two rohorses to follow and began walking toward +the _Yore_. Rowena must have seen him coming on one of the +telewindows, for she had the lock open when he arrived. Her face went +white when she looked at him, and when she saw the Grail, her eyes +grew even larger than plums. He went over and set it gently down on +the rec-hall table, then he collapsed into a nearby chair. He had just +enough presence of mind left to send her for the bottle of +blood-restorer pills, and just enough strength left to swallow several +of them when she brought it. Then he boarded the phantom ship that had +mysteriously appeared beside him and set sail upon the soundless sea +of night. + + +VI + +"No," said the rent-a-mammakin, "you cannot see her. She is +displeased with your score in the get-rich-quick race." + +"I did my best," the boy Mallory sobbed. "But when it came to stepping +on all those faces, I just couldn't do it!" + +The rent-a-mammakin arranged its features into a severe frown and +strengthened its grip on the boy Mallory's arm. "You knew that they +were only painted on the game floor to symbolize the Competitive +Spirit," it said. "Why couldn't you step on them?" + +The boy Mallory made a final desperate effort to gain the bedroom door +which his mother had just slammed and before which the rent-a-mammakin +stood, then he sank defeated to the floor. "I don't know why--I just +couldn't, that's all," he sobbed. He raised his voice. "But I _will_ +step on them! I'll step on real faces too--just you wait and see. I'll +be a bigger get-rich-quickman than my father ever dreamed of being. +I'll show her!" + +"I'll show her," the man Mallory murmured, "just you wait and see." + +He opened his eyes. Save for himself, the bedroom-office was empty. +"Rowena?" + +No answer. + +He raised his voice. "Rowena!" + +Again, no answer. + +He frowned. The door to the bedroom-office was open, and the "castle" +certainly wasn't so large that his voice couldn't carry from one end +of it to the other. + +His shoulder throbbed faintly, but otherwise he was unaware of his +wound. Rowena had bound it neatly--it was said that Age-of-Chivalry +gentlewomen were quite proficient in such matters--and apparently she +had once again got hold of the right counteragent. + +He sat up and swung his feet to the floor. So far, so good. +Tentatively, he stood up. A wave of vertigo broke over him. After it +passed, he was as good as new. The blood-restorer pills had done their +work well. + +Nevertheless, everything was not as it should be. Something was very +definitely wrong. "Rowena!" he called again. + +Still no answer. + +She had removed his armor and piled it neatly at the foot of the bed. +He stared at the various pieces, trying desperately to think. +Something had awakened him--that was it. The slamming of a door ... or +a lock. + +He look a deep breath. He smelled green things. Dampness. A forest at +eventide.... + +He knew then what was wrong. The lock of the _Yore_ had been opened +and had been left open long enough for the evening air to permeate the +interior of the TSB; long enough, in other words, to have permitted +someone to ride across the imaginary drawbridge that spanned the +mirage-moat. Afterward, the lock had slammed back into place of its +own accord. + +He hurried into the rec-hall. Easy Money stood all alone behind the +tourist-bar. The black rohorse was gone. + +His eyes leaped to the rec-hall table. The Sangraal was gone, too. + +He groaned. The little idiot was taking it back! And after he had +forbidden her to leave the "castle" too! Well no, he hadn't forbidden +her exactly: he had forbidden her to leave it _during his absence_. + +He walked over to the telewindow nearest the lock and scrutinized the +screen. She was nowhere in sight, but night was on hand and the range +of his vision, while considerably abetted by the light of the rising +moon, was limited to the nearer trees. + +Presently he frowned. Was it still the same night, or had he been +unconscious for almost twenty-four hours? + +It _couldn't_ be the same night--the position of the moon disproved +that. And yet he could swear that he had been unconscious for no more +than a few hours. + + * * * * * + +Belatedly, he remembered his gauntlet timepiece, and returned to the +bedroom-office. The timepiece registered 10:32. But that didn't make +any sense either: the moon was still low in the sky. + +He knew then that there could be but one answer, and he headed for the +control room posthaste. Sure enough, the jump-board time-dial had been +set for 8:00 p.m. of the same day. He looked at the space-dial. That +had been set to re-materialize the _Yore_ one half mile farther west. + +He wiped his forehead. Good Lord, she might have sent the TSB all the +way back to the Age of Reptiles! Even worse, she might have plunked it +right down in the middle of WWIII! + +She hadn't, though. In point of fact, she had done exactly what she +had set out to do--taken the _Yore_ back to a point in time from which +the Sangraal could be returned to the castle of Carbonek less than an +hour after it had been stolen. + +Suddenly he remembered how she had watched him from the doorway of the +control room each time he had reset the time and space-dials. +Technologically speaking, she was little more than a child, but +jump-boards were as uncomplicated as modern technology could make +them, and a person needed to be but little more than a child to +operate them. + +Grimly, Mallory returned to his bedroom-office and got into his armor; +then, ignoring the throbbing of his reawakened wound, he mounted Easy +Money and set out. He had no weapons, but it could not be helped. With +a little luck, he would have need of none. He was about due for a +little luck, if you asked him. + +He gambled that Rowena would use the same route back to the chamber of +the Sangraal that they had used in leaving it--actually, she had no +other choice--and he encephalo-guided Easy Money at a fast trot in the +direction of the river in the hope of overtaking her before she +reached the entrance to the subterranean passage. However, the hope +did not materialize, and he saw no sign of her till he reached the +entrance himself. Strictly speaking, he saw no sign of her then +either, but he did discern several dislodged stones that could have +been thrown up by the black rohorse's hoofs. + +[Illustration] + +Entering the passage, he frowned. Until that moment, the incongruity +of a sixth-century damosel encephalo-guiding a twenty-second century +rohorse had not struck him. After a moment, though, he had to admit +that the incongruity was not as glaring as it had at first seemed. +"Encephalopathing" was merely a glorified term for "thinking," and +Rowena, shortly after mounting Perfidion's steed, must have made the +discovery that she had only to think where she wanted to go in order +for the rohorse to take her there. + +He had not remembered to bring a light, nor did he need one. The +infra-red rays of Easy Money's eye units were more than sufficient for +the task on hand, and overtaking the girl would have been as easy as +rolling off a log--if she hadn't been riding a rohorse, too. +Overtaking her wasn't of paramount importance anyway: he could +confiscate the Sangraal after she returned it just as easily as he +could before. + +The odd part about the whole thing was that Mallory never once thought +of the inevitable overlap till he saw the flicker of torchlight up +ahead. An instant later he heard the sound of a woman's voice, and +instinctively he encephalo-guided Easy Money into a nearby shallow +cave. + + * * * * * + +[Illustration] + +The flickering light grew gradually brighter, and presently hoofbeats +became audible. The woman's voice was loud and clear now, and Mallory +made out her words above the purling of the underground stream: "... +And then he set down the maiden, and was armed at all pieces save he +lacked his spear. Then he dressed his shield, and drew out his sword, +and Bors smote him so hard that it went through his shield and +habergeon on the left shoulder. And through great strength he beat +him down to the earth, and at the pulling of Bors' spear there he +swooned. Then came Bors to the maid and said: How seemeth it to you of +this knight ye be delivered at this time? Now sir, said she, I pray +you lead me there as this knight had me. So shall I do gladly: and +took the horse of the wounded knight, and set the gentlewoman upon +him, and so brought her as she desired. Sir knight, said she, ye have +better sped than ye weened, for an I had lost my maidenhead, five +hundred men should have died for it. What knight was he that had you +in the forest? By my faith, said she, he is my cousin. So wot I never +with what engyn the fiend enchafed him, for yesterday he took me from +my father privily: for I nor none of my father's men mistrusted him +not, and if he had had my maidenhead he should have died for the sin, +and his body shamed and dishonored for ever. Thus as...." + +At this point, the truth behind the sense of _deja vu_ that Mallory +had experienced the first time he had heard the tale hit him so hard +between the eyes that he jerked back his head. When he did so, his +helmet came into contact with the cave wall and scraped against the +stone. The rohorse and its two riders were directly across the stream +now. "_Shhh!_" Mallory I whispered. + +Rowena I gasped. "It were best that I thanked ye now for thy great +kindness, fair knight," she said, "for anon we be no longer on live." + +"Nonsense!" Mallory I said. "If this fiend of yours is anywhere in the +vicinity, he's probably more afraid of us than we are of him." + +"Per ... peradventure he hath already had meat," Rowena I said +hopefully. "The tale saith that an the fiend be filled he becomes +aweary and besets not them the which do pass him by in peace." + +"I'll keep my sword handy just in case he changes his mind," Mallory I +said. "Meanwhile, get on with your autobiography--only for Pete's +sake, cut it short, will you?" + +"An it please, fair sir. Thus as the fair gentlewoman stood talking +with Sir Bors there came twelve knights seeking after her, and +anon...." + +For a long while after the voices faded away, Mallory IV could not +move. Hearing the story the second time and, more important, hearing +it from the standpoint of an observer, he had been able to identify it +for what it really was--an excerpt from _Le Morte d'Arthur_. The +Joseph of Arimathea bit had been an excerpt, too, he realized now, +probably lifted word for word from the text. It was odd indeed that a +sixth-century damosel who presumably couldn't read could be on such +familiar terms with a book that would not be published for another +nine hundred and forty-three years. + +But not so odd if she was a twenty-second century blonde in a +sixth-century damosel's clothing. + +Remembering Perfidion's secretary, Mallory felt sick. No, there was no +noticeable resemblance between her and the damosel that hight Rowena; +but the removal of a girdle and a quarter of a pound of makeup, not to +mention the application of a "lustre-rich" brown hair-dye and the +insertion of a pair of plum-blue contact lenses, could very well have +brought such a resemblance into being--and quite obviously had. The +Past Police were noted for their impersonations, and most of them had +eidetic memories. + +_Come on, Easy Money_, Mallory encephalopathed. _You and I have got a +little score to settle._ + + * * * * * + +When he entered the chamber of the Sangraal, Rowena IV was arranging +the red samite cover around the Grail. She jumped when she saw him. +"Marry! fair sir, ye did startle me. Methinketh ye be asleep in thy +castle." + +"Knock it off," Mallory said. "The masquerade's over." + +She regarded him with round uncomprehending eyes. He got the +impression that she had been crying. "The ... the masquerade, fair +knight?" + +"That's right ... the masquerade. You're no more the damosel Rowena +than I'm the knight Sir Galahad." + +She lowered her eyes to his breastplate. "I ... I wot well ye be not +Sir Galahad, fair sir. It ... it happed that aforetime I did see Sir +Galahad with my own eyes, and when ye did unlace thy unberere and I +did see thy face, I knew ye could not be him of which ye spake." +Abruptly she raised her head and looked at him defiantly. "But I knew +from thy eyes that ye be most noble, fair sir, and therefore an ye did +pretend to be him the which ye were not, ye did so for noble cause, +and it were not for me to question." + +"I said knock it off," Mallory said, but with considerable less +conviction. "I'm onto you--don't you see? You're a time-fink." + +"A ... a time fink? I wot not what--" + +"An agent of the Past Police. One of those do-gooders who run around +history replacing stolen goods and turning in hard-working people like +myself. You gave yourself away when you lifted that Sir Bors bit +straight out of _Le Morte d'Arthur_ and--" + +"But I did say ye sooth, fair sir. Sir Bors did verily succor my +maidenhead. I wot not how there can be two of ye and two of me and +four hackneys when afore there were but two, and I wot not how by +touching the magic board in thy castle in a certain fashion that I +could make the hour earlier and I wot not how the magic steed I did +bestride brought me hither--I wot not none of these matters, fair sir. +I wot only that the magic of thy castle is marvelous indeed." + +For a while, Mallory didn't say anything. He couldn't. In the +plum-blue eyes fixed full upon his face, truth shone, and that same +truth had invested her every word. The damosel Rowena, despite all +evidence to the contrary and despite the glaring paradox the admission +gave rise to, was not a phony, never had been a phony, and never would +be a phony. She was, as a matter of fact--with the exception of Sir +Galahad--the only completely honest person he had known in all his +life. + +"Tell me," he said, at length, "weren't you afraid to come back +through that passage alone? Weren't you afraid the fiend would get +you?" + +"La! fair sir--I had great fear. But it were not fitting that I +bethought me of myself at such a time." She paused. Then, "What might +be thy true name, sir knight?" + +"Mallory," Mallory said. "Thomas Mallory." + +"I have great joy of thy acquaintance, Sir Thomas." + +Mallory only half heard her. He was looking at the samite-covered +Sangraal. No more obstacles stood between him and his quest, and time +was a-wasting. He started to take a step in the direction of the +silver table. + +His foot did not leave the floor. + + * * * * * + +He was acutely aware of Rowena's eyes. As a matter of fact, he could +almost feel them upon his face. It wasn't that they were any different +than they had been before: it was just that he was suddenly and +painfully cognizant of the trust and the admiration that shone in +them. Despite himself, he had the feeling that he was standing in +bright and blinding sunlight. + +Again, he started to take a step in the direction of the silver table. +Again, his foot did not leave the floor. + +It wasn't so much the fact that she didn't believe he would take the +Sangraal that bothered him: it was the fact that she couldn't conceive +of him taking it. She could be convinced that black was white, +perhaps, and that white was black, and that fiends hung out in empty +caves and castles; but she could never be convinced that a "knight" of +the qualities she imputed to Mallory could perform a dishonorable act. + +And there it was, laid right on the line. For all the good the Grail +was going to do Mallory, it might just as well have been at the bottom +of the Mindanao Deep. + +He sighed. His gamble hadn't paid off any more than Perfidion's had. +The real Sir Galahad was the one who had inherited the Grail after +all--not the false one. The false one grinned ruefully. "Well," he +told the damosel Rowena, "it's been nice knowing you." He swallowed; +for some reason his throat felt tight. "I ... I imagine you'll be all +right now." + +To his amazement she broke into tears. "Oh, Sir Thomas!" she cried. +"In my great haste to return the Sangraal to the chamber and to right +the grievous wrong committed by the untrue knight Sir Jason, I did +bewray my trust again. For when I espied ye and me and Easy Money in +the passage I did suffer a great discomfit, and it so happed that when +my steed did enter into a cave that the Sangraal came free from my +hands and ... and--" + +Mallory was staring at her. "You _dropped_ it?" + +Stepping over to the silver table, she lifted a corner of the red +samite. The dent was not a deep one, but just the same you didn't have +to look twice to see it. "I ... I nyst not what to do," she said. + +Suddenly Mallory remembered the first sound he had heard in the +passage when he and Rowena were leaving the castle of Carbonek. "Well +how do you like that!" he said. He grinned. "I take it that this puts +your hands in jeopardy all over again--right?" + +"Yea, Sir Thomas, but I would lever die than beseech thee again to--" + +"Which," Mallory continued happily, "makes it out of the question for +a knight such as myself to leave you behind." He took her arm. "Come +on," he said. "I don't know how I'm going to fit a sixth-century +damosel into twenty-second century society, but believe me, I'm going +to try!" + +"And ... and will ye take Easy Money to this land whereof ye speak, +Sir Thomas?" + +"Sir Thomas" grinned. "Wit ye well," he said, "and his buddy, too. +Come on." + + * * * * * + +In the _Yore_, he tossed his helmet and gauntlets into a corner of the +rec-hall and proceeded straight to the control room. There, with +Rowena standing at his elbow, he set the time-dial for June 21, 2178 +and the space-dial for the Kansas City Time-Tourist Port. Lord, it +would be good to get home again and get a haircut! "Here goes," he +told Rowena, and threw the switch. + +There was a faint tremor. "Brace yourself, Rowena," he said, and took +her over to the control-room telewindow. + +[Illustration] + +Together, they gazed upon the screen. Mallory gasped. The vista of +spiral suburban dwellings which he had been expecting was not in the +offing. In its stead was a green, tree-stippled countryside. In the +distance, a castle was clearly discernible. + +He stared at it. It wasn't a sixth-century job like Carbonek--it was +much more modern. But it was still a castle. Obviously, the jump-board +had malfunctioned and thrown the _Yore_ only a little ways into the +future, the while leaving it in pretty much the same locale. + +He returned to the jump-board to find out. Just as he reached it, its +lights flickered and went out. The time and space-dials, however, +remained illumined long enough for him to see when and where the TSB +had re-materialized. The year was 1428 A.D.; the locale, Warwickshire. + +Mallory made tracks for the generator room. The generator was smoking, +and the room reeked with the stench of shorted wires. + +He swore. Perfidion! + +So that was why the man had broken with tradition and invited a common +time-thief to a game of golp! + +If he had been anyone but Perfidion he would have gimmicked the +controls of the _Yore_ so that Mallory would have wound up directly in +the fifteenth century sans sojourn in the sixth. But being Perfidion, +he had wanted Mallory to know how completely he was being outsmarted. +The chances were, though, that if the man had anticipated the +near-coincidence of the two visits to the chamber of the Sangraal he +would have seen to it that Mallory had never gotten a chance to use +his Sir Galahad suit. + +Returning to the control room, Mallory saw that the lumillusion panel had +been pre-programmed to materialize the _Yore_ as a fifteenth-century +English castle. Apparently it had been in the books all along for him to +become a fifteenth-century knight, just as it had been in the books all +along for Perfidion to become the proprietor of a misplaced hot-dog stand. + +Mallory laughed. He had gotten the best of the bargain after all. At +least there was no smog in the fifteenth century. + +Who was he supposed to be? he wondered. Had his name gone down in +history by any chance? + +Abruptly he gasped. Was _he_ the Sir Thomas Malory with estates in +Northampshire and Warwickshire? Was _he_ the Sir Thomas Malory who had +compiled and translated and written _Le Morte d'Arthur_? Almost +nothing about the man's life was known, and probably the little that +was known had been assumed. He _could_ have popped up from nowhere, +made his fortune through foreknowledge, and been knighted. He _could_ +have been a reformed time-thief stranded in the fifteenth century. + +But if he, Mallory, was Malory, how in the world was he going to get +five hundred chapters of semi-historical data together and pass them +off as _Le Morte d'Arthur_? + +Suddenly he understood everything. + + * * * * * + +Going over to where Rowena was still standing in front of the +telewindow, he said, "I'll bet you know no end of stories about the +doings of the knights of the Table Round." + +"La! Sir Thomas. Ever I saw day of my life I have heard naught else in +the court of my father." + +"Tell me," Mallory said, "how did this Round Table business begin? Or, +better yet, how did the Grail business begin? We can take up the Round +Table business later on." + +She thought for a moment. Then, "List, fair sir, and I will say ye: At +the vigil of Pentecost, when all the fellowship of the Round Table +were come unto Camelot and there heard their service, and the tables +were set ready to the meat, right so entered into the hall a full fair +gentlewoman on horseback, that had ridden full fast, for her horse was +all besweated. Then she there alit, and came before the king and +saluted him; and he said: Damosel, God thee bless. Sir, said she, for +God's sake say me where Sir Launcelot is. Yonder ye may see him, said +the king. Then she went unto Launcelot and said: Sir Launcelot, I +salute you on King Pelles' behalf, and I require you to come on with +me hereby into a forest. Then Sir Launcelot asked her with whom she +dwelled. I dwell, said she, with King Pelles. What will ye with me? +said Launcelot. Ye shall know, said she, when ye--" + +"That'll do for now," Mallory interrupted. "We'll come back to it as +soon as I get stocked up on paper and ink. Scheherazade," he added. + +"Scheherazade, Sir Thomas? I wot not--" + +He leaned down and kissed her. "There's no need for you to wot," he +said. Probably, he reflected, he would have to do a certain amount of +research in order to record the happenings that had ensued his and +Rowena's departure, and undoubtedly said research would result +ironically in the recording of the true visits of Sirs Galahad and +Launcelot to the chamber of the Sangraal--the "time-slots" on which he +and Perfidion had gambled and lost their shirts. The main body of the +work, however, had been deposited virtually on his lap, and its style +and flavor had been arbitrarily determined. Moreover, contrary to what +history would later maintain, the job would not be done in prison, but +right here in the "castle of Yore" with Rowena sitting--and +dictating--beside him. As for the impossibility of giving a +sixth-century damosel as his major source, that could be avoided--as +in one sense it already had been--my making frequent allusions to +imaginary French sources. And as for the main obstacle to the +endeavor--his twenty-second century cynicism--that had been obviated +during his encounter with Sir Galahad. + +The book wouldn't be published till 1485, but just the same, he was +keen to get started on it. Writing it should be fun. Which reminded +him: "I know we haven't known each other very long in one sense, +Rowena," he said, "but in another, we've known each other for almost +nine hundred years. Will you marry me?" + +She blinked once. Then her plum-blue eyes showed how truly blue they +could become and she threw her arms around his gorget. "Wit ye well, +Sir Thomas," said she, "that there is nothing in the world but I would +lever do than be thy bride!" + +_Thus did the prose epic known +successively as "La Mort d'Arthur," +THE MOST ANCIENT +AND FAMOUS HISTORY OF THE +RENOWNED PRINCE ARTHUR, +KING OF BRITAINE, +AS ALSO, ALL THE NOBLE ACTS, +AND HEROICKE DEEDS +OF HIS VALIANT KNIGHTS +OF THE ROUND TABLE, +and "Le Morte d'Arthur" +come to be recorded._ + + * * * * * + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Knyght Ther Was, by Robert F. 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