Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court

"Camelot - Camelot," said I to myself. "I don't seem to remember hearing of itbefore. Name of the asylum, likely." It was a soft, reposeful summer landscape, as lovely as a dream, and as lonesomeas Sunday. The air was full of the smell of flowers, and the buzzing of insects,and the twittering of birds, and there were no people, no wagons, there was nostir of life, nothing going on. The road was mainly a winding path withhoofprints in it, and now and then a faint trace of wheels on either side in thegrass - wheels that apparently had a tire as broad as one's hand. Presently a fair slip of a girl, about ten years old, with a cataract of goldenhair streaming down over her shoulders, came long. Around her head she wore ahoop of flame-red poppies. It was as sweet an outfit as I ever saw, what therewas of it. She walked indolently along, with a mind at rest, its peace reflectedin her innocent face. The circus man paid no attention to her; didn't even seemto see her. And she - she was no more startled at his fantastic makeup than ifshe was used to his like every day of her life. She was going by asindifferently as she might have gone by a couple of cows; but when she happenedto notice me,thenthere was a change! Up went her hands, and she wasturned to stone; her mouth dropped open, her eyes stared wide and timorously;she was the picture of astonished curiosity touched with fear. And there shestood gazing, in a sort of stupefied fascination, till we turned a corner of thewood and were lost to her view. That she should be startled at me instead of atthe other man, was too many for me; I couldn't make head or tail of it. And thatshe should seem to consider me a spectacle, and totally overlook her own meritsin that respect, was another puzzling thing, and a display of magnanimity, too,that was surprising in one so young. There was food for thought here. I movedalong as one in a dream. As we approached the town, signs of life began to appear. At intervals we passeda wretched cabin, with a thatched roof, and about it small fields and gardenpatches in an indifferent state of cultivation. There were people, too; brawnymen, with long, coarse, uncombed hair that hung down over their faces and madethem look like animals. They and the women, as a rule, wore a coarse tow-linenrobe that came well below the knee, and a rude sort of sandals, and many worean iron collar. The small boys and girls were always naked; but nobody seemedto know it. All of these people stared at me, talked about me, ran into the hutsand fetched out their families to gape at me; but nobody ever noticed that otherfellow, except to make him humble salutation and get no response for theirpains. In the town were some substantial windowless houses of stone scattered among awilderness of thatched cabins; the streets were mere crooked alleys, andunpaved; troops of dogs and nude children played in the sun and made life andnoise; hogs roamed and rooted contentedly about, and one of them lay in areeking wallow in the middle of the main thoroughfare and suckled her family.Presently there was a distant blare of military music; it nearer, still nearer,and soon a noble cavalcade wound into view, glorious with plumed helmets andflashing mail and flaunting banners and rich doublets and horsecloths and gildedspearheads; and through the muck and swine, and naked brats, and joyous dogs,and shabby huts it took its gallant way, and in its wake we followed. Followedthrough one winding alley and then another - and climbing, always climbing -till at last we gained the breezy height where the huge castle stood. There wasan exchange of bugle blasts; then a parley from the walls, where men-at-arms, inhauberk and morion, marched back and forth with halberd at shoulder underflapping banners with the rude figure of a dragon displayed upon tTwain, Mark is the author of 'Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court ', published 2007 under ISBN 9781416534730 and ISBN 1416534733.