Once More With Footnotes

shows" — or will show, but I couldn't exactly put it like that to her — "that things go back to being even worse when they die. Take it from me."
     
                  "Is that one of those things you call a figure of speech, Mervin?" Sure.
     
                  "There was a child, they say. Hidden somewhere by the king until it was old enough to protect itself. "
     
                  " From wicked uncles and so on?"
     
                  "I do not know about uncles. I heard men say that many kings hated the power of Uther Pendragon." She stacked the dishe s on the window-sill. I really hadn't got much idea about penicillin, you understand. I was just letting stuff go mouldy, and hoping.
     
                  "Why are you looking at me like that?" she said.
     
                  "Uther Pendragon? From Cornwall?"
     
                  "You knew him?"
     
                  "I — er — I — yes. He ard of him. He had a castle called Tintagel. He was the father of — "
     
                  She was staring at me.
     
                  I tried again. "He was a king here?"
     
                  "Yes!"
     
                  I didn't know what to say to hen I wandered over to the window and looked out. There was nothing much out there b ut forest. Not cleat forest, like you'd find Tolkien's elves in, but deep, damp forest, all mosses and punk-wood. It was creeping back. Too many little wars, too many people dying, not enough people to plough the fields. And out there, somewhere, was the t rue king. Waiting for his chance, waiting for —
     
                  Me?
     
                  The king. Not any old king. The king. Arthur. Artos the Bear. Once and Future. Round Table. Age of Chivalry. He never existed. Except here. Maybe.
     
                  Maybe here, in a world you get to in a broken time m achine, a world that's not exactly memory and not exactly story ...
     
                  And I was the only one who knew how the legend went. Me. Mervin.
     
                  With his leadership and my, er, experience ... what a team ...
     
                  I looked at her face. Clear as a pond now, but a littl e worried. She was thinking that old Mervin was going to be ill again.
     
                  I remember I drummed my fingers on the cold windowsill. No central heating in the castle. Winter was coming. It was going to be a bad one, in this ruined country.
     
                  Then I said, "Oooo ooh."
     
                  She looked startled.
     
                  "Just practicing," I said, and tried again, "Oooooooooooh, hear me, hear me." Not bad, not bad. "Hear me, o ye men of Albion, hear me. It is I, Mervin, that's with a V, who speaks to you. Let the message go out that a Sign ha s been sent to end the wars and choose the rightwise King of Albion .. . Oooooooooooh-er."
     
                  She was near to panic by this time. A couple of servants were peering around the door. I sent them away.
     
                  "How was it?" I said. "Impressive, eh? Could probably wor k, yeah?"
     
                  "What is the Sign?" she whispered.
     
                  "Traditionally, a sword in a stone," I said. "Which only the rightful heir can pull out."
     
                  "But how can that be?"
     
                  "I'm not sure. I'll have to think of a way."
     
     
     
                  That was months ago.
     
                  The obvious way wa s some sort of bolt mechanism or something ...
     
                  No, of course I didn't think there was a mystic king out there. I kept telling myself that. But there was a good chance that there was a lad who looked good on a horse and was bright enough to take advice fr om any wizardly types who happened to be around. Like I said, I'm a practical man.
     
                  Anyway ... what was I saying? Oh, yes. All the mechanical ways of doing it I had to rule out. That left electricity. Strange thing is, it's a lot easier to make a crude el ectrical generator than a crude steam engine. The only really critical things are the bearings.
     
                  And the copper wire.
     
                  It was Nimue who