The Once and Future King
T. H. White
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T. H. White's masterful retelling of the saga of King Arthur is a fantasy classic as legendary as Excalibur and Camelot, and a poignant story of adventure, romance, and magic that has enchanted readers for generations.
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Pellinore could catch her, we always find her being pursued by Sir Palomides in the later parts of the Morte d’Arthur. In any case, it makes very little difference who could catch her, because nobody ever did. The long march southwards towards Carlion, with litters swaying and the mounted escort jogging under flapping pennoncels, was exciting for everybody. The litters themselves were interesting. They consisted of ordinary carts with a kind of flag—staff at each end. Between the staffs a.
Much, and he had got himself unpopular on account of this. Lancelot had been compelled during the quest to rescue him from three knights who were pursuing him. Then, so that Kay could get home to court unmolested, Lancelot had changed armour with him one night while he was asleep – and thereafter the knights who went for Lancelot under the impression that he was Kay had gotten the surprise of their lives, while the knights who met Kay in Lancelot’s armour had given him a wide berth. Knights.
‘Ought we to go to church now, and thank God as well as you?’ ‘Certainly we must.’ So they went to the clean little chapel in the village and thanked God for His mercies. They kneeled between the frescoed walls, where some important—looking saints with blue haloes were standing on tiptoe to avoid foreshortening, and the gay paints of the stained—glass window poured upon their heads. They were cobalt blue, purple from manganese, yellow from copper, red, and a green which was also got from.
There were forests of gnarled trees, with glades and landscapes. There was the closest moss for grass, and an undergrowth of lichens. There were fallen tree trunks lying picturesquely, and even a strange kind of flower: a minute grey—green stalk, very dry and brittle, with a scarlet blob on the end of it, like sealing—wax. There were microscopic toadstools, except that their umbrellas turned upwards, like egg—cups. And through the desiccated sylvan scene there scuttled, for rabbits and foxes,.
And weeping the slow tears of old age. When Merlyn enters to renew their former master—pupil relationship and sees the extent of Arthur’s misery, he is not sure whether he can do so at this late hour. His assurance that legend will perpetuate Arthur and the Round Table long after history has mislaid them falls on inattentive ears. He invokes their past relationship. The pupil has outgrown the master and puts him off with a Le roy s’advisera. Nowhere in the four previous volumes had White made.