Part 2

Wilbur lifted his cup to his lips and drank. Merlin was right. The liquid seemed no stronger than tea. In fact it tasted much like tea, except that it had a smoky flavor, not at all unpleasant.

"Thank you," he said politely, and started for the door. But he had no more than started than he turned back and sat down again.

It was a strange feeling which assailed Wilbur Mook. His legs seemed weak, yet through the rest of him a strength flowed which was like liquid fire. Then there came a giddiness. His head was feather light.

Merlin receded, not walking but floating back and back. And as his figure drifted away from Wilbur it grew strangely taller. The eyebrows were more slanted than ever and the ears were longer and more pointed. And as Merlin's figure grew larger it began to dissolve.

Now Wilbur's entire body seemed as light as air to him. It felt as though he too could float if he tried. He saw, as through a haze and at a great distance, Merlin bending over the kettle which hung from the tripod.

From inside his flowing gown Merlin produced a wand and a packet. Out of the packet drifted a fine white powder into the kettle. There was a wave of the wand, and out of the kettle poured a thick black smoke which filled the room until there was nothing but blackness.

Wilbur's ears were filled with a roaring. He felt himself lifted and whirled. Around and around he whirled, and faster and faster. He was being sucked into a vortex, pulled down into a black tunnel that was endless.

* * * * *

Somewhere nearby there was a crowd of people. Wilbur knew that because he could hear the murmur of many voices. But when he opened his eyes he found himself in a forest glade. The sun was bright overhead and on a limb above him a bird sang.

He shook himself and looked around. He was not alone. Only a few feet away stood Merlin, still wearing his blue robe and his conical hat. He nodded when he saw that Wilbur was awake.

"How do you feel?" the old man asked.

"Fine, thank you," Wilbur answered without thinking.

It was when he looked down at his body that he sucked in his breath. Not only was he no longer in that musty room, but he no longer wore his own clothes! His body was encased in a gown of brown monk's cloth!

"Your clothes would have been out of place here," Merlin told him, guessing what Wilbur thought.

"But--where am I?"

"Near Camelot," Merlin said. "Better get up now. We haven't much time."

Wilbur got to his feet slowly, his eyes darting about. If he saw a chance he would make a run for it. But Merlin's hand was like a claw on the sleeve of Wilbur's robe.

"You try to run and I'll put a curse on you that will fix you permanently," the old man whispered hoarsely.

Wilbur followed him like a lamb to the slaughter. They took a path that led out of the glade and to a road only a few yards away. Ten yards or so down the road they came on the crowd whose voices Wilbur had heard. His hair stood on end.

They were before the doors of an ancient church. And in the cleared space before those doors milled a strange throng. Men on foot wore robes of the plain monk's cloth and carried wooden staves. Towering above them were mounted men, men dressed in hauberks and doublets of chain mail. All of them had their eyes fixed on something in the center of the crowd.

Then someone caught sight of Merlin and his name was whispered. As by magic the people parted to let him and Wilbur through. For the first time Wilbur saw what they had been staring at. It was a rough block of stone, and buried to the hilt in the stone was a sword!

"Merlin," a voice said, a voice that was heavy and assured.

Wilbur looked up and shrank away from the armored giant on horseback who towered over him and the old man. The giant raised the visor of his helmet and Wilbur beheld a face that was as cruel as a hawk's. Dark eyes gleamed from beneath black and bristling brows.

"What mummery is this?" the dark man asked.

"No mummery, but the good bishop's prayer answered," Merlin said calmly. "Is not the stone inscribed, Sir Kay?"

"Inscribed," Sir Kay echoed. "And its message is that he who withdraws the sword shall be king of England."

His scowl made Wilbur's knees weaken, but Merlin remained unaffected. In fact the old man seemed quite cheerful.

"Excalibur it is called," Merlin said. "He who wrenches it free shall rule."

"Hear me," Sir Kay grated. "If this be one of your tricks, know this: none but a son of Uther Pendragon will reign."

For a moment Wilbur forgot the two. He had caught sight of the inscription of the stone and was reading it. Apparently it was meant to be a poem but it did not rhyme. On the spot Wilbur produced what he thought was a better one. He tried it out, not realizing he spoke aloud.

"Who from this stone Excalibur draws Shall be England's king and make her laws."

Sir Kay frowned blackly and his hand hovered near a dagger at his side.

"What have you to do with this, varlet?" he demanded.

"He is but a troubadour," Merlin interjected quickly. "A bard who will sing your praises after the tourney."

"I had forgotten the tourney," Sir Kay grunted. "But see you forget not my warning."

He reined away, knocking people aside like tenpins. Behind him the other knights followed, and after them went the common people. In a few minutes Wilbur and Merlin found themselves alone. In the distance, and in the direction the crowd had vanished, Wilbur saw the towers of a medieval castle.

"Camelot," Merlin told him.

"I don't like this," Wilbur said. "That fellow looked as though he wanted to slit my throat."

"Yours wouldn't be the first one he's slit," Merlin said. "But you stay close to me and you'll be safe enough. Although I must admit that Kay has become quite a problem since his father died."

"Is he a son of Uther Pendragon?"

"Why do you think he insists that none but Uther's sons may rule?" Merlin snarled. "But with a king like him we'd have nothing but corpses around. That's why I needed you."

* * * * *

Wilbur was bewildered, but not completely baffled. It had become painfully clear to him that Merlin had found him, not vice versa. The advertisement in the paper had been a trick to lure a timid man. But there was still a little clearing up to be done.

"Would you please explain what I have to do with all this?" Wilbur asked plaintively. Merlin clawed gently at his beard and shrugged.

"I suppose it would be only fair, after abducting you from the twentieth century and dragging you back here. The point is this: after Uther died there was a squabble over who should be king. We couldn't stand a civil war so the bishop of this church prayed for a sign, and the next day this stone and sword were found here. So far nobody has been able to pull it out."

"You didn't have anything to do with that, did you?" Wilbur asked naively.

"I'm not saying. Anyway, Sir Kay is the logical man for the job, except that he's too quick with his blade. That left only one other, and he's got his fault too."

Wilbur was thinking about his right eye. A little flattery might go a long way.

"I should think you would make a good king, Mr. Merlin."

"My father was an incubus," Merlin said, as though that explained everything. He peered down the road as the sound of hoofs reached them.

Wilbur followed Merlin's gaze and saw a young man on horseback coming toward them from the direction of Camelot. The young fellow wore a shirt of mail but no helmet, and his horse was not armored. Merlin held up his hand and the mounted man drew rein. Wilbur got a good look at him.

He was almost as big as Sir Kay, but with a fair complexion and light hair. He could not have been much over fifteen, despite his size. His manner was easy, giving the suggestion of enormous strength in reserve, yet with a hint of gentleness. But it was his eyes which were his outstanding feature. They were a clear brown, wide, and with an expression of complete fearlessness.

"Where to, Arthur?" Merlin asked.

"My brother Kay has broken his sword. I must get him another."

"Tarry a moment," Merlin said. "I have a question which troubles me. The enemies of our land march against us, and they outnumber us five to one. Were you king, what would you do?"

Arthur laughed, a clear ringing laugh that showed rows of white teeth. His brown eyes glowed with an inward fire.

"Do? I would take the field against them, of course! Even though they outnumber us fifty to one."

Wilbur thrilled to the words. But Merlin shuddered slightly and Wilbur heard a faint groan of distress come from his lips.

"Got here in the nick of time," the old man muttered. He looked up at Arthur and said aloud: "You may have your chance. But first you must make me a promise. You must come to my castle this very night and drink the draught I shall prepare for you."

"I promise," Arthur said unthinkingly. "And now I'll be getting that sword for Kay."

"This looks like a good one," Merlin said. He pointed to the sword in the stone.

"It does indeed," Arthur agreed. Without a second look he bent and seized the hilt and wrenched it free. He raised the sword in a salute to Merlin and Wilbur, laughed his ringing carefree laugh, and was gone in a cloud of dust.

* * * * *

Merlin's castle was not overly large, and as far as Wilbur could see after he got inside, most of it was under ground. He and the old man were in a great damp chamber, the walls of which were solid rock. The room was filled with Merlin's jugs, with tripods from which boiling kettles hung, and with great black cats which prowled everywhere. The door was of solid oak and immovable. Wilbur knew; he had tried it once when Merlin had gone out.

At the moment Merlin and he were sitting facing each other on a pair of stone couches. They had been sitting so for some hours and the silence was wearing Wilbur down.

"So Arthur is going to be king," he said at last, in an effort to start a conversation. "He looks like a fine boy."

"He is," Merlin agreed. "Chivalrous and all that. It was foreordained. That's why I had to get back. I knew he was going to be along that road today, and I knew he was going to pull out that sword."

"I thought you said he had a fault."

"What a fault," Merlin sighed. "He's got your trouble, but in reverse. He was born without fear. It's a bad thing for a king to be like that. He'd lead his people into sure death. You heard what he said this afternoon. Even odds of fifty to one mean nothing to him."

For the first time Wilbur saw the whole thing. Until now he had entertained a faint hope that Merlin might not really want his eye. But this was the clincher. The _Elixir of Caution_! Desperately he cast about for a means of escape. There was none. And Merlin was watching him with an eagle eye.

"Maybe," Wilbur offered weakly, "a few drops of my blood would do the trick. You don't want Arthur to get _too_ timid."

"Nice of you to think of it," Merlin said. "But I really couldn't fool with that recipe."

Wilbur wished with all his heart that he had the courage to put up some kind of fight. Merlin was an old and feeble man. But he knew his genetics. Wilbur had been born without a gene of courage. Wilbur rubbed his right eye, the one he would soon be without, and felt tears well up. His last glimmer of hope was borne on a sigh.

"Maybe he won't come."

"He'll come all right. Arthur never breaks a promise. That's one of his best points. What I'm trying to do is see to it that he isn't so rash about making them in the first place."

It seemed that Merlin was right, for just then there came to their ears the sound of iron shod hoofs in the courtyard above their heads. The ceiling trembled slightly and a drop of water fell on Wilbur's head. Then footsteps clattered down a long flight of stairs and the door swung open. It was Arthur, and from his appearance it was plain he had been in a fight.

* * * * *

From a cut alongside his temple blood dripped. His shirt of mail had been pierced at the left shoulder and blood glistened redly there. Some had trickled down and lay in beads like rubies on the gleaming mail. His face was streaked with sweat and dirt and his hair lay in wet clumps, and he was breathing hard.

"What happened?" Merlin asked quickly. Arthur let out a laugh and his eyes glowed fierce.

"A band of varlets tried to ambush me on my way here. Had I not been in so great a hurry to keep my appointment with you I'd have brought you some heads on Excalibur's point."

He held up the great sword and Wilbur turned faint at the sight of the gore along its blade. He put his hand over his mouth and his eyes rolled upward.

"Wipe that blade before this one perishes of fright," Merlin said quickly. Then he became solicitous. "Are you sore wounded?"

"There were only ten," Arthur laughed. "They were too busy defending their lives to do me much harm. Now, where is that drink you invited me here for?"

"It will take a while to prepare," Merlin said. He busied himself with a kettle and some jugs and powders.

Wilbur was turning a pale green from fright. He had to think of something. Suddenly he turned to Arthur.

"You won't like this drink," he whispered urgently. "It may even poison you!"

Arthur stared down at him. "Even so I needs must drink it. I have given my word. A promise may not be broken."

Merlin was coming toward them now and Wilbur saw that the old man held in his hand an instrument which looked like a surgeon's scalpel. He let out a shriek of terror and would have run had his legs not been paralyzed.

"What is this womanly fright?" Arthur asked, wrinkling his nose.

"I need his right eye to make the _Elixir of Caution_," Merlin explained. He laid a claw on Wilbur's shoulder and it was like the hand of doom.

"Yeeow!" Wilbur howled. He began to babble. "You lied to me! You said you'd make me brave! False pretenses!"

He stopped abruptly. Merlin's hand had fallen from his shoulder. There was a sudden silence that grew thick and ominous. Looking up fearfully, Wilbur saw that Arthur had fixed Merlin with a hostile glare.

"Did you so promise?" Arthur demanded. He stood straight and regal. "Answer me, and forget not I am your king."

Merlin's hands made feeble and apologetic gestures.

"What could I do?" he pleaded. "One like him is born seldom. I had searched the centuries, and there was no more time."

He turned to Wilbur and his face betrayed an apprehension that made Wilbur's hopes rise. Arthur did not act like he would stand for any promise-breaking among his subjects.

"Tell you what I could do," Merlin said. "I could put your eye back when I'm through with it. In fact, that's a promise."

"Will that make him brave?" Arthur demanded.

"Well...." Merlin hesitated. Arthur's finger slid suggestively along the blade of his sword.

"I'll look it up," the old man finished hurriedly.

* * * * *

His hand dipped beneath his robe and came out with the ancient book. A long nailed finger ran through the pages. There was a pause, and then Merlin began to mumble.

"_Elixir of Fortitude_: One part _Eagle's Heart-Dried_, one part _Lion's Breath-Distilled_, one part _Essence of Steel_, hm-m-m." His voice trailed off in a hum, then picked up again. "Simmer for one hour. _Caution_: MUST BE FINISHED BEFORE MIDNIGHT."

"Well?" Arthur said.

"I've got everything except the last ingredient," Merlin said unhappily. Suddenly his face lit up. "We'd better hurry. There is only an hour and a half left."

He scurried to a bottle which hung on the wall and brought it back to Wilbur. "Drink some quickly. You will feel no pain." When Wilbur had gulped some down Merlin took the bottle and handed it to Arthur. "You too."

* * * * *

Above their heads there was a rumbling and the pounding of hoofs in the courtyard. Quickly Merlin ran to the oak door and slammed it shut. He seemed to be expecting trouble. It turned out he was right again.

More than one pair of feet was on the stone stairway. Loud voices shouted, "Open up!" Wilbur recognized one of the voices and he groaned. Then bodies were hurled against the door.

It held against the first assault, and against the second. The third time there was a splintering of wood. Wilbur held his breath. A hinge had torn loose. Once more there was the crash of armored bodies against the oak and the door flew inward. Sir Kay was inside in a flash, and behind him came five more. The dark man's eyes lit on Wilbur.

"So, varlet!" Kay bellowed hoarsely. "My suspicion was right. You are in the plot against me!"

Without waiting for a denial he flung himself at Wilbur and his sword swished through the air. How he managed it Wilbur never knew, but he ducked in time. The flat of Kay's sword caught him a glancing blow on the head and knocked him off the stone bench.

Then the great room was filled with the clash of steel as Arthur went into action. Out of eyes that were glassy Wilbur saw him decapitate two men with a single stroke. Another fell dead before he could raise his shield. The other two fled with Kay's curses following them. Only Arthur's brother was left.

"Yield," Arthur warned grimly. Kay's reply turned Wilbur's ears red. The two went at it. For a few minutes it was an even battle, and then suddenly both swords came together with a force that drew sparks. Kay was left with only a hilt in his hand.

What happened next Wilbur hardly knew. There was a clang as something bounced on the stone floor, and a great round object that looked like a helmet rolled past him.

"Quickly now," Wilbur heard Merlin say. "There is barely the hour left to us."

Wilbur could hear but he could see nothing. There was a black veil over his eyes. Powerful arms lifted him and laid him on the stone bench. Then there was the sound of bottles being emptied into kettles. Wilbur heard feet approach him but he was too sleepy to care. Something touched his eye but he felt no pain.

In his dazed state time passed quickly for him. There was always the scuffling of Merlin's feet, and now and again the old man's creaky voice rose in weird incantations. Then something hot was pressed against Wilbur's lips.

"Drink," Merlin said. Wilbur opened his mouth and felt a hot liquid gush down his throat.

"I want my eye," Wilbur mumbled.

"Don't worry," Merlin told him. "I'm getting it."

He was taking his time about it, Wilbur thought. He could hear a great stirring going on. There were muffled curses and he heard something bouncing on the floor.

"Darn stuff is so thick I can't tell them apart," Merlin was muttering.

"Hurry!" Arthur called. "The cock crows midnight!"

"I'm doing my best," Merlin said. He was breathing hard as he bent over Wilbur. There was a quick pressure against Wilbur's eye socket and Merlin grunted triumphantly.

"There!" the old man said. "I've kept my promise. Now I'm going to send you back where I found you, and good riddance. You've been nothing but trouble."

Again something hot was poured down Wilbur's throat. It had a familiar taste, a sort of smoky flavor. Liquid fire coursed through his veins, he felt his body grow light and buoyant, he was floating. Then he was being sucked down into a black vortex and through a Stygian passage. The passage seemed endless but it was not, and at the end was a tiny hole of light which grew steadily larger.

* * * * *

Wilbur found himself on a sagging porch, before a door that leaned on sprung hinges. His head ached, and raising his hand he ran it along his scalp until he found a large bump. He rolled his eyes upward as though to see where he had been hurt. All he saw was a jagged hole in the porch roof. At his feet was a chunk of plaster.

It took a minute for the realization to filter through that he was standing on the porch of 136 W. Erie Street. Wilbur recalled walking up the stairs. After that everything was a blur. He scrutinized the door. There was no card bearing the name of A. J. Merlin. In fact, there was no card at all!

"Hey, mister," a boy's voice called. Wilbur turned around and saw a tattered urchin regarding him gravely. "Ain't nobody lived in that house for years," the boy said. "It's haunted."

Wilbur shuddered and at the same instant became aware of a peculiar phenomenon. He seemed to be seeing the boy through only one eye. The other was strangely blurred. Wilbur pulled out his handkershief and wiped his right eye. His vision improved but as he moved toward the head of the stairs he swayed slightly.

"You get hurt or something?" the boy asked as Wilbur came toward him. Wilbur rubbed his head.

"I'm all right," Wilbur told him. He said it partly to reassure himself.

He looked at his wrist watch and found he had only twenty minutes to get back to work. That was puzzling. There was a lapse of time. Being a man of imagination, Wilbur reflected that if he had actually been in the past he would not have used up any time in the present.

On the other hand, it was more probable that he had been hit on the head by falling plaster and had incurred a slight lapse of consciousness, memory, or both. He was inclined to accept that explanation.

At any rate he was going to be late if he didn't hurry, and Pete Bellows would be mad as a hornet. Wilbur speeded up his pace. Then he slowed down again. If anyone should be angry it was himself. He had missed his lunch.

Riding up in the elevator Wilbur checked his watch again and found he was only five minutes late. In his working life that represented two lines of doggerel. It didn't seem like much to get excited about. But Pete Bellows didn't see it that way.

"Mook!" he roared, as Wilbur came through the door. "You're late!"

If he had expected Wilbur to fall into his usual fit of trembling he was disappointed. Wilbur was staring at him.

"Your eye!" Wilbur gasped. Pete's left eye was swollen half shut and had a blue ring around it.

"He walked into the door," Miss Burnett said. "Honest."

Wilbur smiled at her. She was a very pretty girl. Too pretty to be working for a wolf like Pete Bellows. Wilbur had a notion to tell her so.

"I said you're late, Mook," Pete told him ominously.

"So what?" Wilbur asked quietly. "If you don't like it you can fire me. In fact, considering that you find so much fault with my work I'm surprised you haven't discharged me long ago. But I'll save you the trouble. I quit."

Pete was staring at him as though Wilbur had gone mad. Maybe he had, Wilbur thought. Maybe Pete was going to get sore and punch him in the nose. It didn't seem to matter.

"Not only that," Wilbur added. "I'm going into business for myself. How would you like to work for me, Miss Burnett?"

"I think I'd like that just fine," she said. She took her purse out of a drawer in her desk and got her coat and put it on.

Pete Bellows was a stricken man. For once he had nothing to say. His mouth dropped open and he leaned against his desk. "W-wait a minute, Wilbur, old pal," he managed to gasp finally.

"Goodbye," was all Wilbur had to say. He held the door open carefully for Miss Burnett, then shut it behind them as carefully.

Wilbur knew that he was outwardly calm. Inside, he was filled with amazement at himself. Never had he thought to see the day when he would stand up to Pete Bellows. Now he had not only done it, he had got away with it! He took Miss Burnett's elbow. She was looking at him rather queerly, he thought.

"What's the matter?"

"I just noticed the strangest thing about you," she said. "You're the first person I've ever seen who had different colored eyes!"

Wilbur gasped. His knees felt weak, and out of the past he heard a creaky voice say, "... I can't tell them apart." Now he understood that _Arthur's_ right eye had been the last ingredient in the _Elixir of Fortitude_!