Wonders Will Never Cease

by Robert Irwin

  ‘My text today comes from Psalm 11: “Jehovah trieth the righteous one; but the wicked, and him that loveth violence his soul hateth.” And my subject today is an old sin, but recently revived. Wealthy young lords and their friends in our city have taken up with tourneying, since it is once again the fashion. But tournaments are lawless extravagances which waste the land and their expense is all for vainglory. Men enter the lists only so that they may boast about what they did there and the fine armour that they wore then – that they had a helmet of gold, and pauldrons and other external insignia of the same style and even greater price; and that he has carried into the lists a huge lance, so heavy that no one else could carry it and that he arrived at the tournament with so many horses and attendants. All this is vainglory.’

  ‘And what is all the glory and praise worth when it comes from the mouths of the impious, of wretches and of the timid? What is fine armour worth if it makes an enemy only more eager to steal it? What is the merit in unhorsing a man, an old friend perhaps, in time of peace? How should we praise a man who is brave enough in sports in the time of peace, but when a just war comes proves to be a coward?’

  Anthony tries not to listen to the unwelcome message, and in a strategy to do so, he plays the alphabet game, first awarding himself a point when he hears Crosier pronounce a word that begins with a, and then another point when he hears a word beginning with b, and so on. But he cannot shut off the priest’s concluding noisy peroration:

  ‘Those who joust here on earth will joust also in Hell and there they are forced to wear armour which is nailed to them and cannot be taken off. They are forced also to take evil smelling sulphurous baths and then afterwards, instead of the embraces of wanton young women, they are obliged to endure the amorous attentions of lascivious toads. So shall the jousting knight’s prowess be rewarded in Hell!’

  The Woodvilles storm out of the church and Rivers promises to see to William Crosier’s future. But then he says that he must walk privately with Anthony for they have something to discuss.

  ‘That priest was a fool, even if I do admire his courage,’ Rivers begins. ‘He will find no preferment now. Yet I too have to warn you not to look forward to future glory in your combats with the Bastard on Thursday and Friday.’

  Anthony shrugs. What is his father talking about?

  His father continues, ‘What will take place on those days will look like a fight, but its real burden is the opposite, for it will be the sealing of a pact of peace and the making of an alliance. We need Burgundy’s assistance to help us regain our lost lands in France. The joust will be a ceremony, or a kind of mystery play. Yesterday I was with the King and Lord Hastings and we talked at length about the alliance and its benefits and all the things that must go with it… Anthony, I am sorry, but the King and Hastings are determined that you must not be the victor in the coming combats, for England needs to send the Bastard rejoicing back to his father. So you will best serve your King by failing in the lists. It is the King’s command and there can be no escape from this.’

  Anthony is silent for a long time. Finally he says, ‘I thought when I was chosen to fight for England that I was being honoured… Yet it seems that I have been offered a cupful of poison instead. I have spent nearly two years training for this encounter, but now I learn that I might just as well have stayed in bed. It will not be an easy thing to lose a series of combats and come out of them unmaimed. I may even die in my efforts not to defeat the Bastard.’

  ‘Do you still wear that little manikin on a chain round your neck, the amulet that your mother gave you?’

  Anthony nods.

  ‘Well,’ says his father, ‘I have no belief in amulets, but your mother assures me that I do not need to believe in such magical things for them to work, so you will survive.’

  But Anthony protests, ‘Even if I do come out of the combats alive, I shall be the object of scorn to nobles and commoners alike.’

  His father smiles, though his smile is without joy, ‘But the King will look on you with favour. I doubt the scorn, if there is any, will last more than a few days. Edward proposes to make you Governor of the Isle of Wight and that office carries a very large income. Also you will be made a Knight of the Garter. And I am to replace the Earl of Worcester as Constable of England. We shall be powers in the land.’

  Later that day when Anthony goes to the tiltyard he learns from Sergeant Raker that the order of combat will be lances, swords, and finally axes. Raker continues, ‘The good thing is that the weapons shall be unbated. Tiptoft, as President of the Court of Chivalry, has decreed this, for he says that the people must see some blood spilt before they go back contented to their homes, though it is my belief that it is Tiptoft who needs to see blood. That man is a demon!’

  Yet it is clear to Anthony that Raker too wishes to see blood. Nevertheless, despite the common ground between them, Raker hates Tiptoft, since he is not a proper Englishman, having been corrupted by his long stay in Italy. Naturally Raker hates the French even more and he is looking forward to Anthony wounding, or better yet, killing Antoine, the Great Bastard of Burgundy, for then at last the corpse of a Frenchman will serve as evidence that Raker’s careful training of Anthony has been worthwhile. Raker’s happiest memory is of the day when as a young man garrisoned in Calais he had news of the burning of the witch, Joan of Arc at the stake and the despatch of her soul to Hell. Most Frenchmen walk with a limp. The French nobles are particularly despicable since they fail to defend their peasants from English attacks. Anthony keeps telling Raker that the Bastard is a Burgundian, not a Frenchman, but Raker will not listen. It has already been agreed that he will close the tiltyard for the two days of the tourney and will accompany Anthony as his armourer and counsellor.

  The day comes and Anthony rides out in splendour towards Smithfield. Black Saladin is caparisoned in white cloth of gold, with a cross of St. George of crimson velvet bordered with a fringe of gold six inches deep. Raker follows riding a horse caparisoned in tawny velvet ornamented with many great bells. Then there is Amyas whose horse is covered with russet down to the hooves, powdered with Anthony’s initials couched in goldsmiths’ work and Hugh’s horse is covered with purple damask, rich with goldsmith’s work and bordered with blue cloth of gold. Five more men-at-arms follow on horses that are similarly richly trapped. They ride through the marvelling crowds that line the orchards and gardens of Smithfield and into its lists.

  Now it is Anthony’s turn to be amazed, for he had not realised how much work had gone on in Smithfield in the past weeks. The royal stand is in three storeys. The King and Queen sit in the top storey flanked by the King’s sword-bearer, the constable, the marshal and the marshal’s guard, together with senior members of the nobility. The second storey is reserved for knights and the last is filled with royal archers. The flight of steps is gated. On the other side of the lists there is a smaller stand for the mayor, aldermen and other officials. Lesser folk are sheltered in long galleries and behind the galleries there are people in the trees. It is a bright June day, everyone is in their finest clothes, the pennants are fluttering in the breeze, brightly coloured blazons are everywhere and Anthony feels sick to his stomach at the thought of what is expected of him.

  He dismounts in front of the royal stand and advances to its gate on which he knocks. Whereupon Tiptoft, in his capacity as constable shouts down, ‘What is your name and purpose?’

  And Anthony replies, ‘My name is Scales and I am come to accomplish a deed of arms with the Bastard of Burgundy, and demand entry into the lists to do my duty.’

  Having received that permission, Anthony salutes the King before walking over to his pavilion of blue satin where he is to be armed. Once inside the pavilion, Anthony casts off his blazoned surcoat and dons a thick and strongly stitched doublet whose padding will not only absorb some of the shock of impact but also stop the plate armour from chafing and pinching. Then he dons leather shoes on to which the steel sabatons will be attached with stitching.
A squire sweats over this under the close supervision of Raker. And so the arming of Anthony proceeds upwards from the sabatons to the greaves, which protect the calves, and from the greaves to the cuisses which cover the thighs. At every stage the neat overlapping of the steel pieces has to be checked and confirmed. The breastplate is next followed by the vambraces and pauldrons which cover the arms. Raker has Anthony repeatedly flex his arms and legs. Then the backplate is buckled on to the breastplate and the helmet buckled on to the backplate and Anthony has to be helped to draw on the gauntlets over his calfskin gloves. It is a wearisome business and the crowd outside must be impatient.

  Now Anthony steps out, and using a mounting block, settles onto the saddle of Black Saladin and Amyas hands him his lance. Anthony waits for Antoine the Bastard of Burgundy, Comte de la Roche en Ardenne and Knight of the Golden Fleece to be similarly mounted. Then the heralds check that both men are ready, and having done so, report back to the senior herald, Bluemantle, who shouts in a stentorian voice ‘Laissez aller!’ and a white baton is sent spinning in the air as a sign of battle’s commencement. Anthony and the Bastard thunder towards one another, but at almost the last moment, Anthony uses his knee to make Black Saladin veer away and so his lance misses the Bastard entirely and the Bastard also misses his target. A great groan of disappointment comes from those watching. At this point both men drop their lances and get their horses to turn again and now they ride against one another with drawn swords. What happens next is shocking, for the impact of Black Saladin’s charge against the Bastard’s horse is so fierce that it and its master are thrown to the ground. The Bastard under the horse is winded, but by a miracle not seriously injured. The matter is otherwise with the horse which will have to be put down.

  When the Bastard has got his breath back, he staggers over to the royal stand and makes his complaint to Tiptoft, who as the President of the Court of Chivalry will have to adjudicate. The Bastard is accusing Anthony of having a spike concealed under his horse’s trapping. At this point Anthony rides up and raises Black Saladin’s caparison to show that there is no such spike. Tiptoft makes vaguely apologetic noises, but the Bastard is not easily soothed.

  ‘Today he has fought against a horse. Tomorrow he will fight against a man,’ he says, before marching back to his pavilion.

  The Bastard is not the only angry man. In Anthony’s pavilion Raker spits and shouts, ‘How was it possible for you to miss? No, I saw how you directed your horse away from the target. You filthy, useless coward! I am ashamed to have ever seen you in my tiltyard. After all my training, you jousted like a woman – or a Frenchman! If the Bastard does not kill you tomorrow, then I think I will.’

  ‘And I think that you should kill me,’ says Anthony sadly. ‘That would be a mercy.’

  Now Raker looks so shocked that Anthony decides that he will have to be told the truth and so he tells him about the King’s secret command.

  ‘Ah me, if I had known sooner, I might have taught you how to lose well and with honour.’ Raker sighs heavily. ‘Two years training gone for nothing.’

  ‘I thought that I was a knight, but I find that I am a pawn. It smells, but it is all high politics and must remain a secret between us.’

  At this point the flap of the tent is flung violently open and the Bastard enters followed by an equerry. The Bastard’s French is fast and furious, whereas Anthony’s understanding of spoken French, despite the best efforts of his mother, is poor and he has great difficulty in following whatever it is that the Bastard is shouting. But Raker’s French is surprisingly excellent. Anthony had not expected a commoner to speak a foreign language well, but of course Raker had spent years in France in the service of John of Bedford. Raker knows the language and the people well. The language is very good for swearing and the people are like animals, though less dependable than animals, and Raker hates animals anyway. In between hurling abuse at the Bastard and his equerry, Raker interprets. It seems that the Bastard has come to demand compensation for his slaughtered horse. He is demanding a huge sum. He is a man who is used to deference and having his way and he is startled when Raker shows him no deference at all. Instead Raker abuses him and in doing so uses a huge amount of insulting French slang. Without consulting Anthony, he refuses compensation for the horse or even an apology. Then he goes one step further and yells at the Bastard that the only reason that he is still alive today is that the King has told Lord Scales to treat the little frog gently and let him win in the lists if he can. The Bastard looks thunderous. Finally Raker turns and reports to Anthony, ‘He says that the King must settle this.’

  Anthony nods and together they march out. They find the King preparing to leave the royal stand and he is displeased to find his departure delayed by two angry men. The top storey of the stand is cleared of everybody except Edward, Anthony, the Bastard and Tiptoft. Raker and the equerry are refused admission to the royal stand and now it is Tiptoft who does the interpreting. It seems that the Bastard is demanding that Anthony should fight tomorrow without constraint or care for any injury he might cause. Tiptoft, who evidently had not known about the instructions that Anthony had been given, looks shocked. Then the Bastard vows before the King and Tiptoft that, if he does not find that Anthony fights fiercely, then he will kill him and after that kill his kinsfolk also, before going back to Burgundy to report to his father the grievous insult that had been offered to him.

  Just for a moment Edward too looks angry. Then he remembers himself and smiling broadly tells Tiptoft to tell the Bastard that there has been a lamentable misunderstanding and that Lord Scales has received no such command from him. Surely it is that servant of Anthony’s who is responsible for this absurd mistake? Edward promises that on the morrow when he meets Anthony he will encounter a doughty warrior.

  The Bastard grunts and turns on his heel. As soon as the Bastard’s back is turned, Edward scowls at Anthony, but embarrassed doubtless by Tiptoft’s presence, he says nothing and dismisses Anthony with a wave of his hand.

  When Anthony returns to the Woodville townhouse that evening, he finds that a letter delivered from Ludgate Gaol is waiting for him. It is from Sir Thomas Malory:

  ‘Right worshipful lord, I commend myself to you as humbly as I can and wish for your welfare and prowess in arms. Today you looked for me on the stand at Smithfield with the other knights and did not find me there.’

  The truth is that Anthony, with so much else on his mind, had not thought to look for Malory.

  But the letter, which is very long, continues:

  ‘God knows, it was my heartiest desire to see such a noble combat and I am sorry to find my body was forcibly borne elsewhere, though my spirit was with you as I wish. Now I find myself constrained and once more I find that I must take up my pen in order to pass in spirit through the walls of my prison. Then I thought to myself that my great labour which I have entitled Le Morte d’Arthur and which is a mighty enterprise, which I can scarce dare hope to complete before it pleases God almighty to take me to Him, this great labour of mine deserves the patronage of a noble lord of chivalrous renown. Your benevolence and good lordship would mightily assist and give lustre to my enterprise which shall be a complete chronicling of the deeds of King Arthur and his knights and at the same time, I venture that the merit of my narrative and the high matters that it deals with shall give added glory to the name Scales, if of your benevolence, you allow this.’

  What follows is a lengthy synopsis of what will become Le Morte d’Arthur and Anthony, who is both weary and fearful of what the morrow will bring, only skims it. The work that Malory has planned resembles a vast cathedral under construction, with some parts completed, but others without their roofing and even some which merely resemble the scratchings of the ground plan on the earth. It is all very confusing. Hundreds of knights make their appearance and many of them are killed and others simply forgotten about in the course of the proliferating stories. The jousts and combats are beyond enumeration. Malory presents the reign of Ar
thur as a golden age and yet there is fighting all the time and Camelot resembles nothing so much as a bear-pit. Then, beyond the walls of Camelot, it is all feuds, treason, cattle-rustling, extortion and abduction. It seems to Anthony as if several hundred versions of Sir Thomas Malory fight and riot throughout the ancient Kingdom of Logres.

  Anthony pauses only to read about the fight that there was between Sir Tristram and Sir Lancelot:

  ‘Then this cry was so loud that Sir Lancelot heard it. And then he took a great spear in his hand and came towards the cry. Then Sir Lancelot cried: “The Knight with the Black Shield, make you ready to joust with me.” When Sir Tristram heard him say so, he took his spear in his hand, and they both lowered their heads, and came together as thunder: Sir Tristram’s spear broke in pieces, and Sir Lancelot by malfortune struck Sir Tristram a wound nigh to death; but yet Sir Tristram stayed on his saddle and so the spear broke. Thereupon Sir Tristram who was wounded got out his sword, and he rushed to Sir Lancelot and gave him three great strokes upon the helm such that sparks sprang out, and Sir Lancelot lowered his head down towards his saddle-bow. And thereupon Sir Tristram departed from the field, for he felt him so wounded that he thought he should have died; and Sir Dinadan espied him and followed him into the forest. Then Sir Lancelot remained and did many marvellous deeds.’

  Anthony reflects: if only it was so easy to be a hero and do ‘marvellous deeds’ in truth…

  The letter concludes as follows:

  ‘And I pray that all who read my stories pray for him who wrote them, that God send him good deliverance, soon and hastily. A knight prisoner, Sir Thomas Malory.’

  The twilight is deepening and Anthony pushes the manuscript away. He has to admire Malory’s optimism and his impudence. This is the man who only a few years ago would have had Anthony indicted and executed for treason and now this same man is seeking his good lordship. Later he shows the letter to his father who refuses to read it and says that Malory’s treason has now been made apparent. Malory had been visiting Henry in the Tower and bringing him missals, breviaries and cakes, but then was found also to be delivering messages from Lancastrian rebels in the North and that is why he is again in prison and where he should stay. Once more Rivers advises his son to have nothing to do with this dangerous man. Then his father says he will speak to the King about what happened at the Smithfield lists that day and they must hope for the best. After this, Anthony dismisses the importunate Malory from his thoughts.