T. H. White - The Once and Future King

‘But they might be dead!’

‘They are not dead, I know. In a minute or two they will come round and go off home to dinner.’

‘Poor King Pellinore has not got a home.’

‘Then Sir Grummore will invite him to stay the night. They will be the best of friends when they come to. They always are.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘My dear boy, I know so. Shut your eyes and we will be off.’

The Wart gave in to Merlyn’s superior knowledge. ‘Do you think,’ he asked with his eyes shut, ‘that Sir Grummore has a feather bed?’

‘Probably.’

‘Good,’ said the Wart. ‘That will be nice for King Pellinore, even if he was stunned.’

The Latin words were spoken and the secret passes made. The funnel of whistling noise and space received them. In two seconds they were lying under the grandstand, and the sergeant’s voice was calling from the opposite side of the tilting ground, ‘Nah then, Master Art, nah then. You’ve been a-snoozing there long enough. Come aht into the sunlight ’ere with Master Kay, one-two, one-two, and see some real tilting.’

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