_Henry Slesar, young New York advertising executive and by now no longer a new-comer to either this magazine or to this field, describes a strange little town that you, yourself, may blunder into one of these evenings. But, if you do, beware--beware of the Knights!_ dream town _by ... HENRY SLESAR_ The woman in the doorway looked so harmless. Who was to tell she had some rather startling interests? The woman in the doorway looked like Mom in the homier politicalcartoons. She was plump, apple-cheeked, white-haired. She wore a fussy, old-fashioned nightgown, and was busily clutching a worn house-robearound her expansive middle. She blinked at Sol Becker's rain-flattenedhair and hang-dog expression, and said: "What is it? What do you want?" "I'm sorry--" Sol's voice was pained. "The man in the diner saidyou might put me up. I had my car stolen: a hitchhiker; going toSalinas ... " He was puffing. "Hitchhiker? I don't understand. " She clucked at the sight of the poolof water he was creating in her foyer. "Well, come inside, for heaven'ssake. You're soaking!" "Thanks, " Sol said gratefully. With the door firmly shut behind him, the warm interior of the littlehouse covered him like a blanket. He shivered, and let the warmth seepover him. "I'm terribly sorry. I know how late it is. " He looked at hiswatch, but the face was too misty to make out the hour. "Must be nearly three, " the woman sniffed. "You couldn't have come at aworse time. I was just on my way to court--" The words slid by him. "If I could just stay overnight. Until themorning. I could call some friends in San Fernando. I'm very susceptibleto head colds, " he added inanely. "Well, take those shoes off, first, " the woman grumbled. "You canundress in the parlor, if you'll keep off the rug. You won't mind usingthe sofa?" "No, of course not. I'd be happy to pay--" "Oh, tush, nobody's asking you to pay. This isn't a hotel. You mind if Igo back upstairs? They're gonna miss me at the palace. " "No, of course not, " Sol said. He followed her into the darkened parlor, and watched as she turned the screw on a hurricane-style lamp, sheddinga yellow pool of light over half a flowery sofa and a doily-covered wingchair. "You go on up. I'll be perfectly fine. " "Guess you can use a towel, though. I'll get you one, then I'm going up. We wake pretty early in this house. Breakfast's at seven; you'll have tobe up if you want any. " "I really can't thank you enough--" "Tush, " the woman said. She scurried out, and returned a moment laterwith a thick bath towel. "Sorry I can't give you any bedding. But you'llfind it nice and warm in here. " She squinted at the dim face of aship's-wheel clock on the mantle, and made a noise with her tongue. "Three-thirty!" she exclaimed. "I'll miss the whole execution ... " "The what?" "Goodnight, young man, " Mom said firmly. She padded off, leaving Sol holding the towel. He patted his face, andthen scrubbed the wet tangle of brown hair. Carefully, he stepped offthe carpet and onto the stone floor in front of the fireplace. Heremoved his drenched coat and suit jacket, and squeezed water out overthe ashes. He stripped down to his underwear, wondering about next morning'spossible embarrassment, and decided to use the damp bath towel as ablanket. The sofa was downy and comfortable. He curled up under thetowel, shivered once, and closed his eyes. * * * * * He was tired and very sleepy, and his customary nightly review waslimited to a few detached thoughts about the wedding he was supposed toattend in Salinas that weekend ... The hoodlum who had responded to hisgood-nature by dumping him out of his own car ... The slogging walk tothe village ... The little round woman who was hurrying off, like theWhite Rabbit, to some mysterious appointment on the upper floor ... Then he went to sleep. A voice awoke him, shrill and questioning. "Are you _nakkid_?" His eyes flew open, and he pulled the towel protectively around his bodyand glared at the little girl with the rust-red pigtails. "Huh, mister?" she said, pushing a finger against her freckled nose. "Are you?" "No, " he said angrily. "I'm not naked. Will you please go away?" "Sally!" It was Mom, appearing in the doorway of the parlor. "You leavethe gentleman alone. " She went off again. "Yes, " Sol said. "Please let me get dressed. If you don't mind. " Thegirl didn't move. "What time is it?" "Dunno, " Sally shrugged. "I like poached eggs. They're my favorite eggsin the whole world. " "That's good, " Sol said desperately. "Now why don't you be a good girland eat your poached eggs. In the kitchen. " "Ain't ready yet. You going to stay for breakfast?" "I'm not going to do anything until you get out of here. " She put the end of a pigtail in her mouth and sat down on the chairopposite. "I went to the palace last night. They had an exelution. " "Please, " Sol groaned. "Be a good girl, Sally. If you let me getdressed, I'll show you how to take your thumb off. " "Oh, that's an old trick. Did you ever see an exelution?" "No. Did you ever see a little girl with her hide tanned?" "Huh?" "_Sally!_" Mom again, sterner. "You get out of there, oryou-know-what ... " "Okay, " the girl said blithely. "I'm goin' to the palace again. If Ibrush my teeth. Aren't you _ever_ gonna get up?" She skipped out of theroom, and Sol hastily sat up and reached for his trousers. When he had dressed, the clothes still damp and unpleasant against hisskin, he went out of the parlor and found the kitchen. Mom was busy atthe stove. He said: "Good morning. " "Breakfast in ten minutes, " she said cheerfully. "You like poachedeggs?" "Sure. Do you have a telephone?" "In the hallway. Party line, so you may have to wait. " He tried for fifteen minutes to get through, but there was a woman onthe line who was terribly upset about a cotton dress she had orderedfrom Sears, and was telling the world about it. Finally, he got his call through to Salinas, and a sleepy-voiced Fred, his old Army buddy, listened somewhat indifferently to his tale of woe. "I might miss the wedding, " Sol said unhappily. "I'm awfully sorry. "Fred didn't seem to be half as sorry as he was. When Sol hung up, he wasfeeling more despondent than ever. A man, tall and rangy, with a bobbing Adam's apple and a lined face, came into the hallway. "Hullo?" he said inquiringly. "You the fella hadthe car stolen?" "Yes. " The man scratched his ear. "Take you over to Sheriff Coogan afterbreakfast. He'll let the Stateys know about it. My name's Dawes. " Sol accepted a careful handshake. "Don't get many people comin' into town, " Dawes said, looking at himcuriously. "Ain't seen a stranger in years. But you look like the restof us. " He chuckled. Mom called out: "Breakfast!" * * * * * At the table, Dawes asked his destination. "Wedding in Salinas, " he explained. "Old Army friend of mine. I pickedthis hitchhiker up about two miles from here. He _seemed_ okay. " "Never can tell, " Dawes said placidly, munching egg. "Hey, Ma. That whyyou were so late comin' to court last night?" "That's right, Pa. " She poured the blackest coffee Sol had ever seen. "Didn't miss much, though. " "What court is that?" Sol asked politely, his mouth full. "Umagum, " Sally said, a piece of toast sticking out from the side of hermouth. "Don't you know _nothin'_?" "_Arma_gon, " Dawes corrected. He looked sheepishly at the stranger. "Don't expect Mister--" He cocked an eyebrow. "What's the name?" "Becker. " "Don't expect Mr. Becker knows anything about Armagon. It's just adream, you know. " He smiled apologetically. "Dream? You mean this--Armagon is a place you dream about?" "Yep, " Dawes said. He lifted cup to lip. "Great coffee, Ma. " He leanedback with a contented sigh. "Dream about it every night. Got so used tothe place, I get all confused in the daytime. " Mom said: "I get muddle-headed too, sometimes. " "You mean--" Sol put his napkin in his lap. "You mean _you_ dream aboutthe same place?" "Sure, " Sally piped. "We all go there at night. I'm goin' to the palaceagain, too. " "If you brush your teeth, " Mom said primly. "If I brush my teeth. Boy, you shoulda seen the exelution!" "Execution, " her father said. "Oh, my goodness!" Mom got up hastily. "That reminds me. I gotta callpoor Mrs. Brundage. It's the _least_ I could do. " "Good idea, " Dawes nodded. "And I'll have to round up some folks and getold Brundage out of there. " Sol was staring. He opened his mouth, but couldn't think of the rightquestion to ask. Then he blurted out: "What execution?" "None of _your_ business, " the man said coldly. "You eat up, young man. If you want me to get Sheriff Coogan lookin' for your car. " The rest of the meal went silently, except for Sally's insistence uponsinging her school song between mouthfuls. When Dawes was through, hepushed back his plate and ordered Sol to get ready. Sol grabbed his topcoat and followed the man out the door. "Have to stop someplace first, " Dawes said. "But we'll be pickin' up theSheriff on the way. Okay with you?" "Fine, " Sol said uneasily. The rain had stopped, but the heavy clouds seemed reluctant to leave theskies over the small town. There was a skittish breeze blowing, and SolBecker tightened the collar of his coat around his neck as he tried tokeep up with the fast-stepping Dawes. * * * * * They crossed the street diagonally, and entered a two-story woodenbuilding. Dawes took the stairs at a brisk pace, and pushed open thedoor on the second floor. A fat man looked up from behind a desk. "Hi, Charlie. Thought I'd see if you wanted to help move Brundage. " The man batted his eyes. "Oh, Brundage!" he said. "You know, I cleanforgot about him?" He laughed. "Imagine me forgetting that?" "Yeah. " Dawes wasn't amused. "And you Prince Regent. " "Aw, Willie--" "Well, come on. Stir that fat carcass. Gotta pick up Sheriff Coogan, too. This here gentleman has to see him about somethin' else. " The man regarded Sol suspiciously. "Never seen you before. Night _or_day. Stranger?" "Come _on_!" Dawes said. The fat man grunted and hoisted himself out of the swivel chair. Hefollowed lamely behind the two men as they went out into the streetagain. A woman, with an empty market basket, nodded casually to them. "Mornin', folks. Enjoyed it last night. Thought you made a right nice speech, Mr. Dawes. " "Thanks, " Dawes answered gruffly, but obviously flattered. "We were justgoin' over to Brundage's to pick up the body. Ma's gonna pay a call onMrs. Brundage around ten o'clock. You care to visit?" "Why, I think that's very nice, " the woman said. "I'll be sure and dothat. " She smiled at the fat man. "Mornin', Prince. " Sol's head was spinning. As they left the woman and continued theirdetermined march down the quiet street, he tried to find answers. "Look, Mr. Dawes. " He was panting; the pace was fast. "Does _she_ dreamabout this--Armagon, too? That woman back there?" "Yep. " Charlie chuckled. "He's a stranger, all right. " "And you, Mr. --" Sol turned to the fat man. "You also know about thispalace and everything?" "I told you, " Dawes said testily. "Charlie here's Prince Regent. Butdon't let the fancy title fool you. He got no more power than any Knightof the Realm. He's just too dern fat to do much more'n sit on a throneand eat grapes. That right, Charlie?" The fat man giggled. "Here's the Sheriff, " Dawes said. The Sheriff, a sleepy-eyed citizen with a long, sad face, was rocking ona porch as they approached his house, trying to puff a half-lit pipe. Helifted one hand wearily when he saw them. "Hi, Cookie, " Dawes grinned. "Thought you, me, and Charlie would getBrundage's body outa the house. This here's Mr. Becker; he got anotherproblem. Mr. Becker, meet Cookie Coogan. " The Sheriff joined the procession, pausing only once to inquire intoSol's predicament. He described the hitchhiker incident, but Coogan listened stoically. Hemurmured something about the Troopers, and shuffled alongside thepuffing fat man. Sol soon realized that their destination was a barber shop. Dawes cupped his hands over the plate glass and peered inside. Goldletters on the glass advertised: HAIRCUT SHAVE & MASSAGE PARLOR. Hereported: "Nobody in the shop. Must be upstairs. " * * * * * The fat man rang the bell. It was a while before an answer came. It was a reedy woman in a housecoat, her hair in curlers, her eyes redand swollen. "Now, now, " Dawes said gently. "Don't you take on like that, Mrs. Brundage. You heard the charges. It hadda be this way. " "My poor Vincent, " she sobbed. "Better let us up, " the Sheriff said kindly. "No use just lettin' himlay there, Mrs. Brundage. " "He didn't mean no harm, " the woman snuffled. "He was just purelyornery, Vincent was. Just plain mean stubborn. " "The law's the law, " the fat man sighed. Sol couldn't hold himself in. "What law? Who's dead? How did it happen?" Dawes looked at him disgustedly. "Now is it any of _your_ business? Imean, is it?" "I don't know, " Sol said miserably. "You better stay out of this, " the Sheriff warned. "This is a localmatter, young man. You better stay in the shop while we go up. " They filed past him and the crying Mrs. Brundage. When they were out of sight, Sol pleaded with her. "What happened? How did your husband die?" "Please ... " "You must tell me! Was it something to do with Armagon? Do you dreamabout the place, too?" She was shocked at the question. "Of course!" "And your husband? Did he have the same dream?" Fresh tears resulted. "Can't you leave me alone?" She turned her back. "I got things to do. You can make yourself comfortable--" She indicatedthe barber chairs, and left through the back door. Sol looked after her, and then ambled over to the first chair andslipped into the high seat. His reflection in the mirror, strangely grayin the dim light, made him groan. His clothes were a mess, and he neededa shave. If only Brundage had been alive ... He leaped out of the chair as voices sounded behind the door. Dawes waskicking it open with his foot, his arms laden with two rather largefeet, still encased in bedroom slippers. Charlie was at the other end ofthe burden, which appeared to be a middle-aged man in pajamas. TheSheriff followed the trio up with a sad, undertaker expression. Behindhim came Mrs. Brundage, properly weeping. "We'll take him to the funeral parlor, " Dawes said, breathing hard. "Weighs a ton, don't he?" "What killed him?" Sol said. "Heart attack. " The fat man chuckled. The tableau was grisly. Sol looked away, towards the comfortinglymundane atmosphere of the barber shop. But even the sight of thethick-padded chairs, the shaving mugs on the wall, the neat rows ofcutting instruments, seemed grotesque and morbid. "Listen, " Sol said, as they went through the doorway. "About my car--" The Sheriff turned and regarded him lugubriously. "Your _car_? Youngman, ain't you got no _respect_?" Sol swallowed hard and fell silent. He went outside with them, the womanslamming the barber-shop door behind him. He waited in front of thebuilding while the men toted away the corpse to some new destination. * * * * * He took a walk. The town was just coming to life. People were strolling out of theirhouses, commenting on the weather, chuckling amiably about localaffairs. Kids on bicycles were beginning to appear, jangling the littlebells and hooting to each other. A woman, hanging wash in the back yard, called out to him, thinking he was somebody else. He found a little park, no more than twenty yards in circumference, centered around a weatherbeaten monument of some unrecognizable militaryfigure. Three old men took their places on the bench that circled theGeneral, and leaned on their canes. Sol was a civil engineer. But he made like a reporter. "Pardon me, sir. " The old man, leathery-faced, with a fine yellowmoustache, looked at him dumbly. "Have you ever heard of Armagon?" "You a stranger?" "Yes. " "Thought so. " Sol repeated the question. "Course I did. Been goin' there ever since I was a kid. Night-times, that is. " "How--I mean, what kind of place is it?" "Said you're a stranger?" "Yes. " "Then 'tain't your business. " That was that. He left the park, and wandered into a thriving luncheonette. He triedquestioning the man behind the counter, who merely snickered and said:"You stayin' with the Dawes, ain't you? Better ask Willie, then. Heknows the place better than anybody. " He asked about the execution, and the man stiffened. "Don't think I can talk about that. Fella broke one of the Laws; that'sabout it. Don't see where you come into it. " At eleven o'clock, he returned to the Dawes residence, and found Mom inthe kitchen, surrounded by the warm nostalgic odor of home-baked bread. She told him that her husband had left a message for the stranger, informing him that the State Police would be around to get his story. He waited in the house, gloomily turning the pages of the localnewspaper, searching for references to Armagon. He found nothing. At eleven-thirty, a brown-faced State Trooper came to call, and Sol toldhis story. He was promised nothing, and told to stay in town until hewas contacted again by the authorities. Mom fixed him a light lunch, the greatest feature of which was some hotbiscuits she plucked out of the oven. It made him feel almost normal. He wandered around the town some more after lunch, trying to sparkconversation with the residents. He learned little. * * * * * At five-thirty, he returned to the Dawes house, and was promptly leapedupon by little Sally. "Hi! Hi! Hi!" she said, clutching his right leg and almost toppling himover. "We had a party in school. I had chocolate cake. You goin' to staywith us?" "Just another night, " Sol told her, trying to shake the girl off. "Ifit's okay with your folks. They haven't found my car yet. " "Sally!" Mom was peering out of the screen door. "You let Mr. Beckeralone and go wash. Your Pa will be home soon. " "Oh, pooh, " the girl said, her pigtails swinging. "Do you got agirlfriend, mister?" "No. " Sol struggled towards the house with her dead weight on his leg. "Would you mind? I can't walk. " "Would you be my boyfriend?" "Well, we'll talk about it. If you let go my leg. " Inside the house, she said: "We're having pot roast. You stayin'?" "Of course Mr. Becker's stayin', " Mom said. "He's our guest. " "That's very kind of you, " Sol said. "I really wish you'd let me paysomething--" "Don't want to hear another word about pay. " * * * * * Mr. Dawes came home an hour later, looking tired. Mom pecked him lightlyon the forehead. He glanced at the evening paper, and then spoke to Sol. "Hear you been asking questions, Mr. Becker. " Sol nodded, embarrassed. "Guess I have. I'm awfully curious about thisArmagon place. Never heard of anything like it before. " Dawes grunted. "You ain't a reporter?" "Oh, no. I'm an engineer. I was just satisfying my own curiosity. " "Uh-huh. " Dawes looked reflective. "You wouldn't be thinkin' aboutwriting us up or anything. I mean, this is a pretty private affair. " "Writing it up?" Sol blinked. "I hadn't thought of it. But you'll haveto admit--it's sure interesting. " "Yeah, " Dawes said narrowly. "I guess it would be. " "Supper!" Mom called. After the meal, they spent a quiet evening at home. Sally went to bed, screaming her reluctance, at eight-thirty. Mom, dozing in the big chairnear the fireplace, padded upstairs at nine. Then Dawes yawned widely, stood up, and said goodnight at quarter-of-ten. He paused in the doorway before leaving. "I'd think about that, " he said. "Writing it up, I mean. A lot of folkswould think you were just plum crazy. " Sol laughed feebly. "I guess they would at that. " "Goodnight, " Dawes said. "Goodnight. " He read Sally's copy of _Treasure Island_ for about half an hour. Thenhe undressed, made himself comfortable on the sofa, snuggled under thesoft blanket that Mom had provided, and shut his eyes. He reviewed the events of the day before dropping off to sleep. Thetroublesome Sally. The strange dream world of Armagon. The visit to thebarber shop. The removal of Brundage's body. The conversations with thetownspeople. Dawes' suspicious attitude ... Then sleep came. * * * * * He was flanked by marble pillars, thrusting towards a high-domedceiling. The room stretched long and wide before him, the walls bedecked instunning purple draperies. He whirled at the sound of footsteps, echoing stridently on the stonefloor. Someone was running towards him. It was Sally, pigtails streaming out behind her, the small body wearinga flowing white toga. She was shrieking, laughing as she skittered pasthim, clutching a gleaming gold helmet. He called out to her, but she was too busy outdistancing her pursuer. Itwas Sheriff Coogan, puffing and huffing, the metal-and-gold clothuniform ludicrous on his lanky frame. "Consarn kid!" he wheezed. "Gimme my hat!" Mom was following him, her stout body regal in scarlet robes. "Sally!You give Sir Coogan his helmet! You hear?" "Mrs. Dawes!" Sol said. "Why, Mr. Becker! How nice to see you again! Pa! _Pa!_ Look who's here!" Willie Dawes appeared. _No!_ Sol thought. This was _King_ Dawes; nothingelse could explain the magnificence of his attire. "Yes, " Dawes said craftily. "So I see. Welcome to Armagon, Mr. Becker. " "Armagon?" Sol gaped. "Then this is the place you've been dreamingabout?" "Yep, " the King said. "And now _you're_ in it, too. " "Then I'm only dreaming!" Charlie, the fat man, clumsy as ever in his robes of State, said: "So_that's_ the snooper, eh?" "Yep, " Dawes chuckled. "Think you better round up the Knights. " Sol said: "The Knights?" "Exelution! Exelution!" Sally shrieked. "Now wait a minute--" Charlie shouted. Running feet, clanking of armor. Sol backed up against a pillar. "Nowlook here. You've gone far enough--" "Not quite, " said the King. The Knights stepped forward. "Wait!" Sol screamed. Familiar faces, under shining helmets, moved towards him; the tips ofsharp-pointed spears gleaming wickedly. And Sol Becker wondered--wouldhe ever awake? Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ January 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.