Chapter 2

The Fastest Knight in England

In no time at all, the storytellers say, Sir Lancelot became the most famous of all King Arthur's knights in shining armor. No other knight rescued so many damsels in distress or slew so many dragons or overcame so many recreant knights or, for that matter, kept his armor so tidy. He performed so many great deeds that he soon became known as Sir Lancelot the Great. Minstrels sang songs of his adventures, damsels sighed when he passed by, boys playing knights all wanted to be Sir Lancelot, and young knights dreamed of one day defeating Sir Lancelot, because whoever did that, they thought, would take his place as the greatest knight in England.

That last part soon got to be a problem. Everywhere Sir Lancelot went, knights were waiting to challenge him, all hoping to win fame and glory with one battle. Sir Lancelot defeated them all, but fighting every knight he met grew rather tiresome. So, when he rode out on a quest, he chose lonely paths. This was why he was riding alone through a quiet forest one day when he heard an unexpected sound.

"WAAAAAH!"

It was a damsel in distress. When you ride out on enough quests, you get to know that sound. Sir Lancelot turned toward the wailing and soon came to a woman sitting alone beneath a great oak tree, crying with gusto.

"Good day, my lady," Sir Lancelot said politely. It was hard to know the right thing to say at times like this.

"WAAAAAH!" the lady said.

Sir Lancelot said, "May I be of service, my lady?"

"WOOOO-HOOOO-WAAH!"

"Can you tell me what is distressing you, my lady?"

"WAAAH! BLUH-BLUH-WOO-WAAH!"

"I'll just wait here a bit, then, shall I?"

"WIB B LE-B LIDDE R-WO -WO -HAH-WAAH!"

So Sir Lancelot sat on his horse and waited. No one can cry forever, and when at last the lady had used up all her tears, Sir Lancelot asked again, "Can you tell me what is distressing you?"

"It's my ... my fal-fal-falcon!" the lady gasped.

Now in those days, noble lords and ladies used to train falcons to hunt for them. They kept them on leashes, then set them free to hunt small birds. A well-trained falcon—that is, one that would come back—was quite valuable.

"What happened to your falcon, my lady?"

"It flew away! It was a gift from my husband," the woman wailed, beginning to cry again. Not all falcons were well trained.

"I'm sorry to hear it, my lady," said Sir Lancelot. "I wish I could help you."

"Would you?" the woman exclaimed, her tears stopping at once.

"Er ... if I could," Sir Lancelot replied. "But how? I can't chase a falcon through the sky."

"Oh, you don't have to chase her at all," the woman said, smiling brightly. "She's right up there!" The woman pointed up. There at the top of the oak tree was a falcon, her leash tangled in the small branches.

"Oh," said Sir Lancelot.

"You said you'd help," the woman reminded him.

"Er ... yes, I did. The thing is, it's rather hard to climb trees in armor."

"Can't you take your armor off?" the woman asked. She sniffled.

Sir Lancelot frowned. He had just had his armor shined and didn't like to leave it lying around. Then he sighed. "Of course, my lady."

Twenty minutes later, his armor and sword stacked neatly beside a bush, Sir Lancelot began climbing the tree. While he climbed, he wondered how to untangle an angry falcon from a tree without getting pecked, but soon he saw what to do. Coming to the branch where the bird was tangled, he simply broke it off at the base and tossed the whole branch free. Bird and branch fluttered and crashed to the ground, and Sir Lancelot wiped his brow with relief.

"Ha-ha, Sir Lancelot the Great!" shouted a gruff voice. Sir Lancelot looked down. Things had changed below. The crying woman was gone, and in her place stood an armored knight with a drawn sword. "Pretty neat, hey?" the knight crowed.

"I beg your pardon?" Sir Lancelot replied.

"I got you to take off your armor and put away your sword! Now you're helpless, and when I've slain you, I, Sir Phelot, will be known as the greatest knight in England!"

"Sir Phelot?"

"That's right," the knight replied. "Sir Phelot the Great."

"Pleased to meet you," Sir Lancelot murmured. "So all this business with the falcon was a trick?"

"That's right," Sir Phelot said. "Clever, hey?"

"And that lady was your wife?"

"Don't be silly. She's an actress. I've already paid her and sent her off."

"An actress?" repeated Sir Lancelot admiringly. "She's very good, isn't she?"

"Yes, yes," Sir Phelot said curtly. "And now I have you! Come down from that tree and face your doom!"

Sir Lancelot looked at Sir Phelot for a long moment, then stretched out on a sturdy branch. "No," he said.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Sir Phelot demanded.

"I'm comfortable," said Sir Lancelot. He leaned against the trunk of the tree and closed his eyes.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Sir Phelot said. "What ever do you think you're doing? You can't stay up in that tree forever!"

"Why not?"

"Well, you'll get hungry, for one thing," Sir Phelot said.

"So will you," Sir Lancelot pointed out.

Sir Phelot frowned over this for a moment. If he left the tree to get food, Sir Lancelot would get away. "Well ... you have to sleep sometime."

Sir Lancelot only smiled.

"Oh, stop being so childish!" snapped Sir Phelot, stamping his foot. "You know perfectly well that you have to come down eventually."

Sir Lancelot ignored him. Licking his lips, he began to whistle softly, trying to remember a song that he had heard from a minstrel at King Arthur's court.

"What's that noise?" Sir Phelot demanded.

"It's a love song," Sir Lancelot replied. "It's called 'Llude Sing Cuckoo.'"

"What sing cuckoo?"

"'Llude,'" Sir Lancelot said. "I think it means loud."

"Why not say so, then?"

Sir Lancelot sniffed. "You obviously don't understand art. Actually, this is quite a lucky chance for me. Back at court when I sing, people always remember that they have somewhere else to be. Sir Gawain says that I'm tone deaf, but he's Scottish and listens to bagpipes, so how would he know?" With that, Sir Lancelot burst into enthusiastic song.

"Summer is i-cumin in!
Llude sing cuckoo!"

Sir Phelot removed his helmet and covered his ears, so Sir Lancelot sang it again, louder this time. He sang for more than an hour, until his voice grew tired. He didn't know any other songs. In fact, he only knew those two lines of this one, but he didn't mind singing the same lines over and over. Sir Phelot stuffed wadded-up leaves in his ears and covered his head with his arms, but he was still making whimpering noises by the time Sir Lancelot's voice grew weary.

No one can sing forever, though, and at last Sir Lancelot stopped. Sir Phelot carefully removed his earplugs and peeked up the tree. "Are you done?" he asked.

Sir Lancelot didn't reply. He was looking at a cluster of acorns not far from his head. Picking one acorn, he held it out over Sir Phelot and let it drop.

Plink! went the acorn off Sir Phelot's armor.

"Stop that!" Sir Phelot said.

Plink! Plink! Thonk!

"That one sounded different," Sir Lancelot said. "What did it hit?"

Sir Phelot put his helmet back on.

Plink!

"WILL YOU KINDLY CUT THAT OUT!" shouted Sir Phelot. He began jumping up and down and waving his arms and growling fiercely. He scuffed the dirt with his feet, then kicked the base of the tree very hard. Then he said a great many colorful words and sat down, holding his foot with one hand and screaming with frustration. Sir Lancelot stopped throwing acorns and watched Sir Phelot's tantrum with interest. Sir Phelot cursed and roared and threatened and screamed for a very long time, but at last he grew hoarse and lapsed into panting silence.

Plink!

Sir Lancelot thought he heard a sobbing noise from inside Sir Phelot's helmet, but then Sir Phelot leaped to his feet. "No! I won't give up! I will defeat Sir Lancelot and become the greatest knight in England!"

Plink!

"You're just making it worse for yourself, you know! You're making me angry!"

Plinkety-plinkety-plink-plink-plink!

"STOP THAT! If you don't stop dropping nuts on me I'll ... I'll ... I'll just cut down your tree!"

Sir Lancelot stopped throwing acorns and said admiringly, "Now, that's quite clever. You should go home and get an ax at once!"

Sir Phelot laughed. "How stupid do you think I am?"

Sir Lancelot did not reply.

"I'm going to cut down the tree with my sword!" Sir Phelot declared.

"Ah!" Sir Lancelot said, very softly. "That stupid." He dropped two more acorns.

Plink! Plink!

With a roar of rage, Sir Phelot drew back his sword and swung it with all his strength against the trunk of the tree. The blade sank deep into the wood. Sir Phelot chuckled to himself, then tugged the hilt sharply.

The sword remained in the tree. Sir Phelot tugged it again, harder. He walked around the tree and kicked it. He braced one foot, then both feet, against the trunk and pulled with all his might. The blade wouldn't budge.

While he tugged and yanked and grunted over his sword, Sir Lancelot quietly climbed down the tree and dropped noiselessly to the ground. Taking up his own sword, he stepped behind Sir Phelot.

"Do you need some help?"

"No, thank you," Sir Phelot snapped irritably. "I can do it myself."

"What if you tried to pry it out with another sword?"

Sir Phelot turned around and snapped, "Now where am I going to find another ... er ... another ... oh, dear."

It is very difficult to run fast or far while wearing armor, but the storytellers say that that day Sir Phelot broke all the records. In fact, the run of Sir Phelot became proverbial in King Arthur's court. Sir Phelot was called "the fastest knight in England" and every exceptionally speedy runner would be called a "regular Sir Phelot." And so, as it happened, Sir Phelot did become famous for his speed, and perhaps that would have satisfied him. No one can say for sure, though, because Sir Phelot was never seen in England again.