Morgan le Fay didn't go jump in the lake; she merely fell in a pool. Luckily there was a pool handy. She slid backwards off her horse and landed in it in a sitting position. And luckier still, the pool had a muddy bottom, and Morgan le Fay stuck there long enough for Katharine to make another, calmer wish, which was that she would stay stuck, and unable to use any of her magic, for twice as long as would be necessary.
This done, the four children turned their horses into the wood, and set about following the wicked knights. Morgan le Fay hurled a few curses after them from among the water weeds, but these soon died away in the distance.
There was no path to follow through the wood. The branches of trees hung low and thick, and the earth beneath them was damp and dark and dank, and no birds sang.
"This," said Katharine, "is what I would call a tulgey wood."
"Don't!" cried Martha. "Suppose something came whiffling through it!"
The four children pressed on. Suddenly they came to a clearing, and there amidst a tangle of lambkill and henbane and deadly nightshade they saw the witch's castle rising just ahead of them. Poison ivy mantled its walls. There were snakes in the moat and bats in the belfry. The four children did not like the look of it at all.
"What do we do now?" said Jane.
"Wish him free, of course," said Mark.
"Just stand out here and wish? That's too easy!" said Katharine.
"I'm not going inside that castle!" said Martha.
"Nay," said Katharine, who did not seem to be so docile today as she used to be. "Ye forget that I be a mighty prophetess. Trust ye unto my clever strategy!"
"Bushwah," said Mark. "Less talk and more action."
Katharine put her hand on the charm. "I wish that two doors of this castle may stand open for us," she said.
So then the children had to look for the one door that did. They found it at last, a little back door with a small drawbridge of its own, over the moat. The drawbridge was down and the door was ajar. The children went over the drawbridge.
"Beware!" croaked the magic talking frogs in the moat.
They went in through the doorway. A long dark passage lay beyond.
"Beware!" squeaked the magic talking mice in the walls.
The children went along the passage. It wound and twisted a good deal. The magic cobwebs hanging from the ceiling brushed at their faces and caught at their clothing, trying to hold them back, but they broke away and pushed on.
At last the passage ended at a heavy doorway. From beyond it came the; sound of loud voices raised in something that was probably intended to be music. The children eased the door open a crack and peeked through, into a large hall.
The red knight and the green knight and the black knight were enjoying a hearty meal, and washing down each mouthful with a draught of nut-brown ale. They were singing at the table, which was rude of them, and the words of their song were ruder still.
"Speak roughly to our Launcelot
And beat him with a brier!
And kick him in the pants a lot—
Of this we never tire!
We've put him in a dungeon cell
And there we'll beat him very well!
Clink, canikin, clink!"
The four children looked at each other indignantly; then they peeked through again.
Some varlets had appeared in the hall. They cleared away the dishes, left the dessert platter on the table, and departed.
The dessert was a number of round plum puddings, all aflame with blazing blue brandy. The black knight stood up to serve them.
At that moment Katharine remembered a story she had once read. She decided to have some fun with the three knights.
"I wish two of those puddings were stuck to the end of your nose!" she cried, putting her hand on the charm and staring straight at the black knight, through the crack of the doorway. And immediately one of them was.
But this pudding, unlike the one in the story, was still burning blue with brandy-fire; so that not only was it humiliating to the black knight, but hurt a good deal as well. And furthermore, his long black whiskers, of which he was inordinately proud, began to singe badly. He gave a wild howl, and his face turned nearly as black as his garments, with rage.
"Ods blood, who hath played this scurvy trick upon me?" he cried, beating at his nose and whiskers with his hands, and then yelling with pain as the flames scorched his fingers.
"Tee hee hee," tittered the green knight. "You look very funny!"
The black knight whirled on him.
"Be it you, then, who hath played this scurvy trick?" he cried.
"No, it be not I," said the green knight, "but you look very funny, just the same!"
"Oh, I do, do I?" shouted the black knight, in a passion. And he whipped his sword out of its scabbard, and swapped off the green knight's head.
The red knight jumped to his feet.
"I say, Albemarle, that was going a bit too far!" he cried.
"Oh, I don't know," said the black knight. "He was exceedingly provoking! Come and help me get this great pudding thing off my nose!"
"Well," said the red knight, looking at him rather dubiously, "I don't know if I can, but I'll try!
And he whipped his sword out of its scabbard, and swapped off the pudding from the black knight's nose. Unfortunately (for him) he swapped off a good bit of the nose, too.
The black knight gave a wild bellow and hurled himself at the red knight, sword in hand. The red knight parried his thrust. A moment later they were joined in deadly combat, leaping about the hall, smashing furniture, and hacking off parts of each other with the greatest abandon.
Behind the door, the four children shut their eyes, held their ears, and cowered trembling in each other's arms.
The combat did not last long. Two sword blades flashed in the air, and a second later two heads fell on the floor, followed, more slowly, by two bodies.
There was a silence. Katharine hadn't meant her wish to end in such a gory and final way. But she reminded herself to be bloody, bold and resolute, and crept through the door into the hall, followed by the three others. All four averted their eyes from what they would have seen if they had looked at the floor.
"I do think you might have managed it neater," said Jane. "How can we get through to the dungeon with all these different pieces of knight lying around underfoot?"
"The point is that I managed it at all," said Katharine, more cheerfully than she felt. "And we don't have to walk; we can wish ourselves there."
She put her hand on the charm and wished that they were twice as far as the dungeon door and that she had two keys to the dungeon in her hand.
After that, of course, it was but a matter of turning the key, and out walked Sir Launcelot, followed by several dozen other knights who had also been prisoners of the enchantress and her friends, and who looked somewhat the worse for their daily beatings.
The other captive knights fell on their knees, kissing the children's hands and hailing them as their deliverers. Sir Launcelot also thanked the children quite politely, but somehow he didn't seem so happy to be free as the children had expected he would.
A moment later, when the other captive knights had left to resume their interrupted quests, the children found out why.
"You saved me by magical means?" Sir Launcelot asked.
"That's right," said Katharine, proudly. "I did it with my little charm."
"That mislikes me much," said Sir Launcelot. "I would it were otherwise."
"Well, really!" said Katharine. "I suppose you'd rather have stayed in there being beaten?"
"Sooner that," said Sir Launcelot, "than bring shame to my honor by taking unfair magical advantage of a foe, however deadly!"
"Well, if you're all that particular," said Katharine, annoyed, "I can easily put them back together again." And she led him into the great hall, and showed him the different pieces of the three knights.
"Please do so," said Sir Launcelot.
"Shall I lo
ck you up in the dungeon again?" asked Katharine, sarcastically. "Doesn't it hurt your conscience that I set you free?"
"That much advantage," said Sir Launcelot, "I think I can take. Some fair jailer's daughter would probably have let me out sooner or later, anyway."
"Oh, is that so?" said Katharine. "I'm sorry I troubled, I'm sure! Is there anything else?"
"Well, yes," said Sir Launcelot. "You might just fetch me my sword and armor, which these cowardly knaves have taken from me."
Thoroughly cross with him by now, Katharine wished the sword and armor back on him; then, working out the fractions carefully, she spoke the wish that was to bring the red knight, the green knight, and the black knight back to life.
It was very interesting watching the different pieces of the different-colored knights reassembling themselves on the hall floor, and the four children were sorry when it was over.
But by then something even more interesting was going on. Because by then Sir Launcelot was fighting the three knights singlehanded, and that was a sight worth coming back many centuries to see.
Sir Launcelot did not seem to appreciate the four children's interest, however.
"Go away. Thank you very much. Good-bye," he called, pinning the green knight against the wall with a table, and holding the red and black ones at bay with his sword.
"Can't we help?" Mark wanted to know.
"No. Go away," said Sir Launcelot, cracking the red knight on the pate, thwacking the black knight in the chest with his backhand swing, and leaping over the table to take a whack at the green one.
"Can't we even watch?" Jane wailed.
"No. It makes me nervous. I want to be alone," said Sir Launcelot, ducking under the table to send the red knight sprawling, then turning to face the black and green ones again.
Katharine sighed, and made a wish.
Next moment the four children were on their horses once more, riding along the King's Highway.
"We might at least have waited in the yard," complained Martha. "Now we'll never know how it ended!"
"He'll come out on top; trust him!" said Katharine. "I do get tired of people who are always right, all the time! Anyway, we'll be seeing him again, I imagine. At the tournament."
"Gee, yes, the tournament. I was forgetting," said Mark. "When do you suppose it'll be?"
"Not for weeks, maybe, by the time here," said Katharine. "But for us, a mere wish on the charm..."
And she merely wished.
"I can't get used to this being rushed around," complained Martha a second later, as she found herself somewhere else for the third time in three minutes. "Where are we now, and when is it?"
"Camelot, I should think," said Katharine, "in tournament time! Look!"
Jane and Mark and Martha looked. Camelot and the field' of tournament looked exactly as you all would expect them to look, from the descriptions in The Boy's King Arthur and the wonderful books of Mr. T. H. White. Trumpets were blowing clarion calls, and pennons fluttered on the blue air, and armor flashed in the bright light, and gallant knights and trusty squires and faithful pages and ladies fair and lowly varlets were crowding into the stands in hundreds, to watch the chivalrous sport.
The four children had front-row grandstand seats, for Katharine had made that a part of her wish. She had forgotten to say anything in her wish about getting rid of the four horses, and at first these made some trouble by wanting to sit in the grandstand, too, much to the annoyance of the people sitting behind. But Katharine wished them twice as far as away, and they disappeared.
At this, the people behind got up and left in a hurry, looking back at the four children and muttering about witchcraft and sorcery.
The children paid small heed. They were too busy looking around them and drinking in the sights.
King Arthur sat enthroned on a high platform at one end of the field. The children could see him clearly, with his kind, simple, understanding face, like the warm sun come to shine on merry England. Queen Guinevere was seated at his right, and Merlin, the magician, thin and wise and gray-bearded, at his left.
And now the trumpets blew an extra long fanfare, and the tournament began.
Sir Launcelot was among the first to ride out on the field. The children recognized him by his armor.
"I told you he'd come out all right," said Katharine, a bit bitterly.
But when Sir Launcelot got going in that tournament, even Katharine had to admire him.
He smote down five knights with his first spear, and four knights with his second spear, and unhorsed three more with his sword, until all the people sitting round on the benches began crying out, "Oh, Gramercy, what marvelous deeds that knight doth do in that there field!"
Jane sighed a satisfied sigh. "Kind of glorious, isn't it?" she murmured.
"It's the most wonderful age in human history," said Mark, solemnly. "If only it didn't have to end!"
"Why did it?" asked Martha, who hadn't read The Boy's King Arthur yet.
"Partly 'cause some of the other knights got tired of being knocked down all the time and having Launcelot always win," Mark told her.
"Yes," said Katharine, in rather a peculiar voice, "it would really be a good deed, in a way, if somebody knocked him down for a change, wouldn't it?"
Mark gave her a sharp look, but just then Sir Launcelot started knocking down more knights, and he had to watch the field. When he looked again, Katharine wasn't there.
Mark nudged Jane hard, as a horrible thought came into his mind.
Jane turned and saw the empty spot where Katharine had been, and Mark could tell that she was having the same thought, too.
Just then there was an interruption in the tournament. A strange knight rode out on the field of combat, and straight up to King Arthur's platform.
"I crave your Majesty's permission to challenge Sir Launcelot to single combat!" cried the strange knight in a voice loud enough for the children to hear clearly from where they sat.
The hearts of Jane and Mark sank.
Even Martha now guessed the horrid truth. "How dare she?" she whispered.
"I don't know," said Mark. "She's been getting too full of herself ever since we started this wish!"
"Wait till I get her home!" said Jane grimly.
"How call they you, strange sir?" King Arthur was saying, meanwhile, "and whence do you hail?"
"They call me Sir Kath," said the strange knight, "and I hail from Toledo, Ohio."
"I know not this Toledo," said King Arthur, "but fight if you will. Let the combat begin."
The trumpets sounded another clarion call, the strange knight faced Sir Launcelot, and there began the strangest combat, it is safe to say, ever witnessed by the knights of the Round, or any other, Table.
The intrepid Katharine thought herself very clever at this moment. She had wished she were wearing two suits of armor and riding two horses, and she had wished she were two and a half times as tall and strong as Sir Launcelot, and she had wished that she would defeat him twice. And immediately here she was, wearing one suit of armor and riding one horse, and she was one and a quarter times as tall and strong, and she couldn't wait to defeat him once.
But in her cleverness she had forgotten one thing. She had forgotten to wish that she knew the rules of jousting. And here she was, facing the greatest knight in the world, and she didn't know how to start. She knew she'd win in the end, because she'd wished it that way, but what was she to do in the beginning and middle?
Before she could work out another wish to take care of this, Sir Launcelot rode at her, struck her with his lance, and knocked her back onto her horse's tail. Then he rode at her from the opposite direction, and knocked her forward onto her horse's neck.
The crowd roared with laughter.
The feelings of Jane, Mark and Martha may well be imagined.
As for the feelings of Katharine, they knew no bounds. She still held the magic charm clutched in one hot hand, and she wasn't bothering about correct arithmetic now.
br /> "I wish I could fight ten times as well as you, you bully! Yah!" were the words that the valiant Sir Kath spoke, upon the field. It was a cry of pure temper.
And immediately she could fight five times as well as Sir Launcelot, and everyone knows how good he was.
What followed would have to be seen to be believed.
Katharine came down like several wolves on the fold. She seemed to spring from all sides at once. Her sword flashed like a living thunderbolt. Her lance whipped about, now here, now there, like a snake gone mad.
"Zounds!" cried the people, and "Lackaday" and "Wurra wurra!"
Jane, Mark and Martha watched with clasped hands.
If Sir Launcelot had not been the greatest knight in the world he would never have lived to tell the tale. Even as it was, the end was swift. In something less than a trice he was unseated from his horse, fell to the ground with a crash, and did riot rise again.
Katharine galloped round and round the field, bowing graciously to the applause of the crowd.
But she soon noticed that the crowd wasn't applauding very loudly. And it was only the traitorous knights like Sir Mordred and Sir Agravaine, the ones who were jealous of Launcelot, who were applauding at all.
The rest of the crowd was strangely silent. For Launcelot, the flower of knighthood, the darling of the people's hearts, the greatest champion of the Round Table, had been defeated!
Queen Guinevere looked furious. King Arthur looked sad. The attendant knights, except for the traitorous ones, looked absolutely wretched. Merlin looked as if he didn't believe it.
Jane and Mark and Martha looked as though they believed it, but didn't want to.
And it was then that the full knowledge of what she had done swept over Katharine.
She had succeeded and she had failed. She, a mere girl, had defeated the greatest knight in history. But she had pretended to herself that she was doing it for a good deed and really it had been just because she was annoyed with Launcelot for not appreciating her help enough, back in Morgan le Fay's castle.
Her cheeks flamed and she felt miserable. It was hot inside her helmet suddenly, and she dragged it off. Then she remembered too late that she'd forgotten something else, when she made her wish. She had wished to be in armor, and to be on horseback, and to be tall and strong, and to win. But she had forgotten to say anything about not being Katharine any longer.