has claimed the Oval Office throne—er, chair?
killed off by Mark Twain in A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s
Court, vows revenge upon the Yankee Hank Morgan. She casts a spell to
take her to 1879 Connecticut so she may waylay Sir Boss before he can
travel back in time to destroy her world. But the spell misses by 300
miles and 200 years, landing her in the Washington, D.C., of 2079,
replete with flying limousines, hovering office buildings,
virtual-reality television, and sundry other technological marvels.
her kingdom, of course—two kingdoms, in fact: as Campaign Boss for
the reelection of American President Malory Beckham Hinton, and as
owner of the London Knights world-champion baseball franchise.
Washington’s Court by Mark Twain as channeled by Kim Iverson
Headlee offers laughs, love, and a candid look at American society,
popular culture, politics, baseball… and the human heart.
1879—the same year the Yankee Hank Morgan departed for his sojourn
in sixth-century Britain. The first edition was published in 1889 and
features more than 200 illustrations by the man who later would
become founder of the Boy Scouts of America, Daniel Carter Beard.
These illustrations are now in the public domain, and a handful have
been incorporated into King Arthur’s Sister in Washington’s Court as
an artistic homage to this classic edition of the first time travel
story in all literature.
from Chapter II: King Henry’s Court
“Ah, Connecticut. Nay, fair Queen Morgan, that land lies many leagues to the north.” After nodding northward, King Henry spread his arms wide. “I bid thee well come to Crownsville, and I further bid thee and thy comely companion”—King Henry smiled at Lady Jane—“to join us at the feast anon.”
Queen Anne cast her liege husband a disconcerted glance but glided forward, smiling and extending both her hands toward me, which I did grasp warmly; and she said: “Aye, Queen Morgan, thou art ever well come to feast with us on this most glorious of Saturdays, the twenty-third day of September in the year of Our Lord fifteen thirty-four.”
If I could lay head to heel the bodies of every loser of every tournament in every realm since the birth of Our Lord, even should such a line compass the entire kingdom, ’twould not come nigh unto compassing my anguish upon hearing that my enchantment had missed its mark by more than three full centuries.
I concealed my dismay as I accepted the royal invitation.
cats, goats, Great Pyrenees goat guards, and assorted wildlife.
People and creatures come and go, but the cave and the 250-year-old
house ruins–the latter having been occupied as recently as the
mid-twentieth century–seem to be sticking around for a while yet.
first edition of Dawnflight (Sonnet Books, Simon & Schuster) and
has been studying the Arthurian legends for nigh on half a century.
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