Arthur Rex

by Thomas Berger

  And Isold turned to Sir Tristram and she bade him to rise, and then she asked him what he would have her do. And never had she looked more queenly, though she still wore the rude clothes of deerskin and her face was brown from the sun.

  “Lady,” said Sir Tristram bowing, “I shall love you all the days of my life.” And here the tears welled from his eyes, and further he could not speak for some time. And then he said to the king, “Uncle, your kindness to me hath been too extravagant to repay in any fashion but by my departure from Cornwall forever. Mine heart is broken, but perhaps to the strength of my soul.”

  And they all three wept together awhile, and then Sir Tristram took his sad leave of Tintagel and he returned to Camelot, many years and much sadness after he had left, and he served the Round Table for a long time with more distinction than any other knight but Sir Launcelot, and his feats were many, for scores of monsters did he slay, both giants and beasts, and numberless fair ladies freed he from foul captivity.

  But never did Sir Tristram fail to remember La Belle Isold in every moment that passed, and life without her was worse than death to him, and had he not remembered as well that he was atoning for the crime of adultery he would surely have committed the worse one of slaying himself.

  And his friend Launcelot was almost as sad as Tristram, but for a reason that was the opposite: namely, that he could not permanently leave his own lady love, which was Guinevere.

  And if God had made Sir Launcelot into Sir Tristram, and vice versa, then perhaps everyone would have been happier. But again, perhaps not. For what do mortals know, with their limited means? Except that earthly life, whether noble or base, is sad, and the oceans of the world are created from the salt tears of men.

  BOOK XIV

  How Sir Gawaine fought with King Pellinore; and then how he saved King Arthur’s life; and how he found a bride.

  NOW SIR LAUNCELOT HAD not gone away from Camelot since becoming the lover of Queen Guinevere, and he seemed constrained to remain there as if tied by invisible bonds.

  And he was wont to say to her, “Am I a man, so to let my sword go to rust?”

  And Guinevere once replied, “Well, I do not keep thee here, and what can I say, being a woman, of virile duties?”

  “Yet,” said Launcelot, “the king hath not found for me a quest which he believes it is better for me to go on than to stay with you.”

  “And thou dost blame me for this and not him?” said Guinevere, who was ever more eager to take offense at Sir Launcelot’s speech, as indeed he was ever more likely to give it: for they loved each other, but not sweetly. “So puissant with men,” said she, “thou art a whimperer with ladies.”

  And Sir Launcelot did leave her in anger, the which departure was a great insult, for he had not asked her permission, and though she was his paramour she was his queen as well.

  Therefore in a fury of her own (which however she concealed) she went to King Arthur.

  “My lord,” said she. “I am no longer in danger of abduction, methinks. Sir Meliagrant was an unique felon, and I doubt that his like will appear again at Camelot. Therefore there seemeth no need for Sir Launcelot to stand constant guard upon me, and this is stultifying to him, to be always with a lady like her lap dog. Is there not better employment for the greatest knight of all?”

  “Than your defense?” asked King Arthur in amazement. “Nay, Guinevere.”

  “But what am I to be defended against?” said the queen. “Certainly he protects me not against boredom. I would that he be exchanged with Sir Gawaine, who at least hath some merriment in him.”

  “Then you have not seen him lately,” said King Arthur. “Indeed, for some years, for Gawaine hath become and stayed dispirited.” And the king sighed. “And not he alone. A certain spirit hath gone away from the entire company of the Round Table. Only to you should I confess, my dear Guinevere, that I almost regret not having to go to subdue Mark of Cornwall, for such a war, in a virtuous cause, might well have invigorated us all. But he sent me with Sir Tristram his pledge of fealty, and I can not deplore his change of heart in all ways. He hath now earned his claim to a crown, and he may keep his. And indeed it is a fine thing too that Tristram doth no longer foully adulterate.”

  But King Arthur frowned and he shook his head, the which was now quite gray. “Yet Tristram is more melancholy than when first he came to Camelot,” said he, “and he was then already the saddest man I had ever seen.”

  Now no sooner had Guinevere left King Arthur, having failed to stir him to do what she believed she wanted, namely, to send Sir Launcelot away from her, than Launcelot himself came to the king for the same purpose.

  “Well,” said King Arthur smiling, “one might suppose that thou and the queen were in a conspiracy in this matter.” And then he grew sober. “My dear Launcelot, only to thee would I tell this, for I have no other confidant: I have a sister who doth wish me great ill. Now I can not say this to my nephews, for they are hers as well. And certes I can not tell it to Guinevere, for she is a woman. Therefore I tell it thee, my friend. This sister hath not long ago, using as her instrument a confused knight, tried to murder me. Having failed in this she might well, I fear, attempt to harm the queen.”

  “O unnatural sister!” said Sir Launcelot.

  “Indeed,” said King Arthur, “and I would that news of her not be bruited about, for I would not have a shame brought upon our court by the king’s kin, as happened in Cornwall, though happily now ’tis there no more.”

  The king rose from his throne, and he said, “Come, Launcelot old comrade, and let us walk together in the gardens. I would see the latest roses, and I have not been without for a long time.”

  And Sir Launcelot did wonder at this speech, for it was late in the autumn, with the flowers all gone, but the king did not seem to know this until they had reached the outdoors. And then also King Arthur did falter and he almost stumbled against the stone curbing around a dead flower bed, the which was covered with leaves, but clearly visible.

  “Thine arm, Launcelot,” said he, taking him by the elbow. “My vision hath clouded some, no doubt but temporarily, as the result of some muck fed me by Sir Kay. The dear fellow and his rich sauces! Why oh why will he not feed me plainly!... Now tell me, my friend, what be thine opinion of Tristram? Should he be not happier to abstain from vile sin?”

  And Sir Launcelot did shudder in his heart.

  And high above them, from an oriel window in the chamber where she took her champion to bed, Guinevere looked down upon the pair, king and first knight, and she believed they looked for all the world, arm and arm as they were, like unto a pair of detestable sodomites.

  So King Arthur and Sir Launcelot walked in the garden, and the king talked of the general dispirit at Camelot, but Launcelot did brood upon the matter of Morgan la Fey, for never had he known that such a wicked woman could exist.

  Now King Arthur said, “Launcelot, dost know of something called the Holy Grail?”

  And Sir Launcelot asked, “Is it the same thing that is called the Sangreal as well?”

  “The same,” said King Arthur, and his interest quickened. “Then thou dost know of it?”

  But Launcelot confessed that he knew little but the name, having heard it mentioned by the knights who had been in the service of King Leodegrance the father of Guinevere.

  “Yea,” said King Arthur, “these knights were searching for it when Cameliard was under siege, and since we know they were not traitors, then their search must have been more important than the defense of their land, and what they sought was surely a thing of the highest spiritual value.” The king stopped on the path between the flower beds, and he said, “But none of my chaplains, nor nobody from the friary near by doth know of this Sangreal, Launcelot, and how holy can it be when the religious themselves are ignorant of it?”

  “Well,” said Sir Launcelot, “’tis I believe no disrespect of the clerics to say that as no one can know all of God, there must inevitably be matters concerning
Him the which not even those with a vocation are aware of.”

  “Can it be,” said King Arthur, “that this Grail is a thing of meaning to knights peculiarly? For, Launcelot, it would be an admirable ideal: to quest for that of which the precise nature were unknown, yet holy in the large. And unlike the case with other relics, which are oft the pretext for charlatanism, no fraudulence can here come into play, for the reason that not enough is known of the Sangreal to misrepresent it.”

  “But,” said Sir Launcelot, “could not then some false rogue give the name Grail to any object, for how could we know it was not it?”

  “Nay,” said King Arthur, “for from the knights of old Leodegrance I have learned that the Grail be known only when it is seen, at which time it is unmistakable, indescribable, and ineffable.”

  “Yet none of these hath ever seen it?” asked Launcelot. “And one might therefore say, how could they know?”

  “Indeed,” said King Arthur, “yet if thou thinkest on this state of affairs, my dear Launcelot, thy conclusion might be mine, videlicet, that it is just the imprecision which maketh it likely. By which I mean our human incapability of apprehending certain truths is the greatest evidence that they are true.”

  And Sir Launcelot believed that while King Arthur had begun markedly to fail physically though he was hot yet so very old, his mind had grown ever more expansive.

  And he said now, “Sire, I doubt nothing with the name of Holy.”

  “Thou art alien to shame, Launcelot,” said King Arthur. “’Tis why I speak with thee of such matters.”

  But Sir Launcelot averted his face as if in modesty. “You do me too much honor, Sire,” said he. “For I am not without great sin.”

  “Well,” said King Arthur, “being all men, we are all sinners, Launcelot.” And saying this he did himself look away, for he could never forget what he had done with Margawse his sister, and in his heart he believed that he deserved to be plagued by Morgan la Fey.

  And looking down upon them from her window Guinevere lost her bitterness and she thought that both of these men were without joy, the greatest king in the world and the greatest knight. And she wondered, Is this because they are men, or because they are mine?

  And each of these three great persons was utterly occupied with obsessions of self at this moment, for Launcelot could hardly restrain himself from confessing to King Arthur his loathsome sin against him and begging that he be put to death for it; and as for King Arthur, who believed Launcelot a blameless knight, he felt an almost irresistible urge to tell him of how he had fathered Mordred. Whereas Guinevere considered whether she should not enclose herself in a nunnery, for she had known no peace for ever so long.

  Then King Arthur and Sir Launcelot returned to the castle, each with his own burden of heart, and they went unto the Round Table, where no other person was to be seen at the moment, and the great table was empty in the vast hall, and all the hundred and fifty seats around it as well. And each of these had the name of the knight whose place it was emblazoned in gold on its back. Except the one on the right hand of King Arthur’s chair, the which was blank.

  “Can it be,” asked King Arthur now, “that the Siege Perilous hath some reference to this Holy Grail? For it is another unexplained matter. No one has sat upon it since Pellinore did so and burned his breech. But thou art my first knight, Launcelot, and without stain. Go and sit within that chair. Obviously it was made for thee. Would that I had thought of it before now, my friend.”

  But Sir Launcelot, who feared no man in the world, was afraid of this siege, and he would fain have avoided it, yet he could not refuse his king’s request. Therefore as if going to the gibbet he approached it, and the sound of his boots scraping on the stones of the floor echoed throughout the hall, where all else was silent.

  But as he reached towards the siege, for to move it away from the Table so that he might sit down, a great flame burst from it and he fell back from the heat.

  Now King Arthur was amazed, saying, “If thou canst not sit there, then who can?”

  Nor could Sir Launcelot answer him, except to say, “Perhaps it must ever remain empty, as a reminder of our imperfections as men. Is there any complete circle except in Heaven?”

  “I know only what Merlin said,” King Arthur told him. “And between us,” said he putting a finger alongside his nose, “Merlin may have been a charlatan. Many years have passed since we last saw him, I am reminded. All current magic is done by that woman.”

  And Sir Launcelot looked at him curiously, and he said, “The Lady of the Lake?”

  “The same,” said King Arthur. “But I have never known what to make of her. Merlin, whatever his sleight of hand, was never so inscrutable. Tell me, Launcelot, art thou truly at ease with any female?”

  “Sire, I am not,” said Sir Launcelot.

  “Dost understand them at all?” asked King Arthur.

  And Launcelot said, “Nay, I do not.”

  “Ah,” said King Arthur, “what man doth? Yet we are charged to defend them. And since the wars have ended we do little else.” He drew his own siege away from the table and he sat thereupon and he put his face into his hands. “Launcelot, methinks it is time that I declare for the Round Table a general quest, so that, whilst never neglecting the particular pleas to which we have hitherto devoted ourselves (we shall continue to deliver distressed ladies and to fight evil men and kill monsters), we shall pursue the Holy Grail.”

  And Sir Launcelot said, “Then may I give precedence to this quest, and leave upon it immediately?”

  Now King Arthur looked up at him, and he said, “But what of the protection of the queen?”

  And Launcelot groaned within, but then a thought came unto him, and though he was not guileful, so distressed was he that God answered his prayer to be provided with a good argument. “I am her particular champion, truly. But are not all the knights of the Table charged generally with her protection and defense? And should they not each of them have the privilege to attend her some time, for what greater honor could a knight have?”

  “Dost speak of a regular change of guard?” asked King Arthur. “So that each of the company might take his turn as her attendant?” And then he smiled. “Wert thou not the friend of mine heart, Launcelot, and the finest knight of all, I should never have assigned thee to her. Yet this honor hath to thee been of little worth—nay, nay, do not protest! I take no offense! No man can be blamed for having his natural inclinations, but he is judged rather by how he acts upon them. And thou art impeccable, Launcelot.”

  And King Arthur pondered on this matter and then he said, “Very well, my friend, thou art hereby released from this obligation. I shall replace thee first with my nephew Sir Agravaine, for I know that he doth hold his queen and aunt in the highest reverence.”

  And the queen did not know that Launcelot had gone away until Sir Agravaine came to her and he bowed and he said, “My lady.”

  “And what, sir knight, may I do for thee?” asked Guinevere.

  “I have been commanded by the king to guard you,” said Sir Agravaine, “for Sir Launcelot hath gone away from Camelot absolutely.”

  Now Guinevere turned biting her rosy lip, and she said, “Gone away?”

  And Sir Agravaine spoke in malicious satisfaction. “Perhaps never to return,” said he. “For who knows where the Holy Grail might be found, if indeed it doth exist at all? But being the soul of piety Launcelot will look forever.” Now he said this simply because he was pleased by Launcelot’s departure, and he knew nothing of the love between him and the queen, and his envy was as yet directed only to Launcelot’s superior prowess to his own.

  “Well, Sir Agravaine,” said Guinevere, “I require no personal guard. Therefore I would that thou apply thyself to thine other duties.” And she went into her inner chamber, where she wept bitter tears, for only with the superficial part of her heart had she wished to see the last of Launcelot, whereas profoundly she wanted him always, for the sickness of love is such that
the symptoms oft disguise the disease.

  And now Sir Agravaine was more bitter than ever to have his hopes so dashed, for in fantasy he had seen himself defending Guinevere against another Meliagrant and her falling into his arms upon the deliverance, and unlike his brothers Gawaine, Gaheris, and Gareth he had no high conception of honor (though never was he truly evil like his half-brother Mordred).

  But as he had been commanded to guard Guinevere by King Arthur, Sir Agravaine determined to keep his post regardless of her wishes, but to do it discreetly, even secretly, and therefore he concealed himself.

  Now Sir Launcelot had not got far from Camelot when he heard behind him a galloping horse, and he turned and saw Sir Gawaine, who rode in great haste.

  And stopping him Launcelot asked, “My dear Gawaine, art thou joining me in the quest for the Holy Grail? How happy I am to have thy company!”

  “Nay, Launcelot,” said Sir Gawaine, whose face displayed great unhappiness, “I go rather to do my familial duty, for my father hath been killed.”

  And Sir Launcelot made grief for a while, and then he said, “Hath he died of natural cause, Gawaine, or by some felon’s foul hand?”

  “Neither,” said Sir Gawaine. “But I do wish it had been either, for since all men must die, the losing of a life be not in itself a great pity, and he was an old man, Launcelot. But what is peculiarly unhappy here is that he was killed in an honest fight, and by a comrade of ours at the Round Table.”

  “O terrible unnatural news!” cried Launcelot.

  “’Twas Pellinore who did it,” said Sir Gawaine. “And what happened was this: as thou knowest full well King Pellinore pursuing the Questing Beast did long ago lose himself from his own country, and so did he eventually join the company of the Round Table. Now lately he left Camelot once again to follow the Beast, reports concerning which had come from the north, and going there he found his country from the which he had mislaid himself long ago. But meanwhile my father King Lot of the Orkneys had come upon Pellinore’s land whilst searching for my youngest brother Mordred, who had been carried away by a wyvern, and finding that it had no king, my father Lot did annex it to his own realm. But arriving there soon after, Pellinore did challenge King Lot, and they fought in individual combat, and my father so was killed.”