not.’
‘Yes, you are.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘Yes, you are.’
‘Very well,’ said King Pellinore. ‘You can jolly well get up and put on your helm and we will have a fight. I won’t be called a cheat for anybody.’
‘Cheat!’ said Sir Grummore.
They stood up and fumbled together with the helm, hissing, ‘No, I’m not’ – ‘Yes, you are,’ until it was safely on. Then they retreated to opposite ends of the clearing, got their weight upon their toes, and came rumbling and thundering together like two runaway trams.
Unfortunately they were now so cross that they had both ceased to be vigilant, and in the fury of the moment they missed each other altogether. The momentum of their armour was too great for them to stop till they had passed each other handsomely, and then they manœuvred about in such a manner that neither happened to come within the other’s range of vision. It was funny watching them because King Pellinore, having already been caught from behind once, was continually spinning round to look behind him, and Sir Grummore, having used the stratagem himself, was doing the same thing. Thus they wandered for some five minutes, standing still, listening, clanking, crouching, creeping, peering, walking on tiptoe, and occasionally making a chance swipe behind their backs. Once they were standing within a few feet of each other, back to back, only to stalk off in opposite directions with infinite precaution, and once King Pellinore did hit Sir Grummore with one of his back strokes, but they both immediately spun round so often that they became giddy and mislaid each other afresh.
After five minutes Sir Grummore said, ‘All right, Pellinore. It is no use hidin’. I can see where you are.’
‘I am not hiding,’ exclaimed King Pellinore indignantly. ‘Where am I?’
They discovered each other and went up close together, face to face.
‘Cad,’ said Sir Grummore.
‘Yah,’ said King Pellinore.
They turned round and marched off to their corners, seething with indignation.
‘Swindler,’ shouted Sir Grummore.
‘Beastly bully,’ shouted King Pellinore.
With this they summoned all their energies together for one decisive encounter, leaned forward, lowered their heads like two billy—goats, and positively sprinted together for the final blow. Alas, their aim was poor. They missed each other by about five yards, passed at full steam doing at least eight knots, like ships that pass in the night but speak not to each other in passing, and hurtled onward to their doom. Both knights began waving their arms like windmills, anti—clockwise, in the vain effort to slow up. Both continued with undiminished speed. Then Sir Grummore rammed his head against the beech in which the Wart was sitting, and King Pellinore collided with a chestnut at the other side of the clearing. The trees shook, the forest rang. Blackbirds and squirrels cursed and woodpigeons flew out of their leafy perches half a mile away. The two knights stood to attention while one could count three. Then, with a last unanimous melodious clang, they both fell prostrate on the fatal sward.
‘Stunned,’ said Merlyn, ‘I should think.’
‘Oh, dear,’ said the Wart. ‘Ought we to get down and help them?’
‘We could pour water on their heads,’ said Merlyn reflectively, ‘if there was any water. But I don’t suppose they would thank us for making their armour rusty. They will be all right. Besides, it is time that we were home.’
‘But they might be dead!’
‘They are not dead, I know. In a minute or two they will come round and go off home to dinner.’
‘Poor King Pellinore has not got a home.’
‘Then Sir Grummore will invite him to stay the night. They will be the best of friends when they come to. They always are.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘My dear boy, I know so. Shut your eyes and we will be off.’
The Wart gave in to Merlyn’s superior knowledge. ‘Do you think,’ he asked with his eyes shut,
‘Yes, you are.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘Yes, you are.’
‘Very well,’ said King Pellinore. ‘You can jolly well get up and put on your helm and we will have a fight. I won’t be called a cheat for anybody.’
‘Cheat!’ said Sir Grummore.
They stood up and fumbled together with the helm, hissing, ‘No, I’m not’ – ‘Yes, you are,’ until it was safely on. Then they retreated to opposite ends of the clearing, got their weight upon their toes, and came rumbling and thundering together like two runaway trams.
Unfortunately they were now so cross that they had both ceased to be vigilant, and in the fury of the moment they missed each other altogether. The momentum of their armour was too great for them to stop till they had passed each other handsomely, and then they manœuvred about in such a manner that neither happened to come within the other’s range of vision. It was funny watching them because King Pellinore, having already been caught from behind once, was continually spinning round to look behind him, and Sir Grummore, having used the stratagem himself, was doing the same thing. Thus they wandered for some five minutes, standing still, listening, clanking, crouching, creeping, peering, walking on tiptoe, and occasionally making a chance swipe behind their backs. Once they were standing within a few feet of each other, back to back, only to stalk off in opposite directions with infinite precaution, and once King Pellinore did hit Sir Grummore with one of his back strokes, but they both immediately spun round so often that they became giddy and mislaid each other afresh.
After five minutes Sir Grummore said, ‘All right, Pellinore. It is no use hidin’. I can see where you are.’
‘I am not hiding,’ exclaimed King Pellinore indignantly. ‘Where am I?’
They discovered each other and went up close together, face to face.
‘Cad,’ said Sir Grummore.
‘Yah,’ said King Pellinore.
They turned round and marched off to their corners, seething with indignation.
‘Swindler,’ shouted Sir Grummore.
‘Beastly bully,’ shouted King Pellinore.
With this they summoned all their energies together for one decisive encounter, leaned forward, lowered their heads like two billy—goats, and positively sprinted together for the final blow. Alas, their aim was poor. They missed each other by about five yards, passed at full steam doing at least eight knots, like ships that pass in the night but speak not to each other in passing, and hurtled onward to their doom. Both knights began waving their arms like windmills, anti—clockwise, in the vain effort to slow up. Both continued with undiminished speed. Then Sir Grummore rammed his head against the beech in which the Wart was sitting, and King Pellinore collided with a chestnut at the other side of the clearing. The trees shook, the forest rang. Blackbirds and squirrels cursed and woodpigeons flew out of their leafy perches half a mile away. The two knights stood to attention while one could count three. Then, with a last unanimous melodious clang, they both fell prostrate on the fatal sward.
‘Stunned,’ said Merlyn, ‘I should think.’
‘Oh, dear,’ said the Wart. ‘Ought we to get down and help them?’
‘We could pour water on their heads,’ said Merlyn reflectively, ‘if there was any water. But I don’t suppose they would thank us for making their armour rusty. They will be all right. Besides, it is time that we were home.’
‘But they might be dead!’
‘They are not dead, I know. In a minute or two they will come round and go off home to dinner.’
‘Poor King Pellinore has not got a home.’
‘Then Sir Grummore will invite him to stay the night. They will be the best of friends when they come to. They always are.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘My dear boy, I know so. Shut your eyes and we will be off.’
The Wart gave in to Merlyn’s superior knowledge. ‘Do you think,’ he asked with his eyes shut,
Similar Books
