“Tell me what I should do.”
“Grant him your love; be loyal to him for all the years of your life. There could be no greater gift.”
She considered the bluntness of this statement, and its implications, for a long moment. Then, with an intensity almost matching Galehaut’s, she said, “I solemnly promise that my love will be entirely his, as his is entirely mine, and we will depend on you to help us solve any problems.”
“Thank you, my lady. And now will you give him a pledge of your commitment?”
“With all my heart.”
“Then I think you should kiss him.”
“Not here – those ladies, who must already wonder what is happening, can’t fail to see us. But just the same, if he wants me to, I will gladly do as you say.” They spoke as if the subject of their discussion were not present.
But now the knight, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions, murmured, “My lady, I thank you.”
Galehaut said, “If we put our heads together as if we were making plans, no one will see anything.”
The queen dismissed her reservations and said, “Why should I wait when I wish this more than either you or he?” They all drew close together. Guenevere leaned toward the knight, who hesitantly imitated her movement though not daring to raise his head. Tall and broad-shouldered, Galehaut arced over them with arms outstretched. In the shelter of this embrace, the queen lifted the young man’s chin with her fingertips, bent forward, and gave him a long kiss – which, despite Galehaut’s precautions, Blaye did not fail to observe.
After a moment, the queen spoke to the knight: “Dear friend, for all you have done for me I am yours, and that makes me very happy. But now we must take care that no one learn our secret, for the world thinks very well of me, and our love would be a vile and ugly thing if it damaged my reputation.” She reflected for the briefest moment, then added, “I ask you, too, wise Galehaut, never to fail my trust, for whatever good or evil comes of this is entirely due to you.”
“My lady,” said Galehaut, “he could never do anything to harm you, and I have only done what you asked of me. But –” and here he paused, before going on, more softly, “but let me ask you something in return – for now, as I told you yesterday, you can do much more for me than I for you.”
Guenevere was inclined to be obliging. “There is nothing I could refuse you.”
“Then you will use your power to protect my friendship with Lancelot. Let neither your love nor the interests of this kingdom ever drive us apart.”
“Indeed, if I caused you to lose your companion, that would be a poor reward for your generosity. I pledge you my loyal friendship, now and always.”
Turning to Lancelot, she said, “And in furtherance of my pledge, I ask you to affirm your commitment to this lord, that you are his forever – except insofar as you are mine.”
The knight replied, “The Lord of the Distant Isles has done more for me than anyone has ever done for a friend. We owe him the peace of this kingdom, and I owe him the greatest happiness I have known. I swear always to be loyal to our companionship.”
Galehaut thanked him with deep emotion. Whatever this moment meant to the others, to him it contained all the power of an unbreakable covenant. He was grateful for Lancelot’s pledge, and glad to have led him where the young man so ardently wished to go. He had not the slightest doubt of the knight’s sincerity, though he well knew that passions are not always reined in by solemn promises. Thinking that Lancelot would now be able to enjoy the queen’s company alone, he excused himself to confer with his seneschal.
Thus it was that Galehaut brought the queen and Lancelot together and was in turn assured that Lancelot would remain his companion. Night had long fallen by the time Guenevere and the young man rose to leave, but the moon so illuminated the meadow that they could see almost as if it were day. Galehaut rejoined them, and the three walked together, followed by the seneschal and the queen’s ladies. When they were opposite Galehaut’s tents, Lancelot took leave of the queen and crossed the river with the seneschal. Galehaut escorted Guenevere back to the king, who asked where they had been. “My lord,” said Galehaut, “we have been out in the meadow with a few people, as you see.” Then they sat down and spoke of many things, Galehaut and the queen feeling much at ease with each other.
A while later, when Guenevere was about to retire for the night, Galehaut told her that he would rejoin his friend and give him what comfort he could. She thanked him for that because “he’ll be so glad of your company.” Galehaut took leave of the king, and soon he and Lancelot were lying in one bed; they talked all night long of the joy they said was in their hearts.
The queen, sure that she had been very discreet, was standing at a window, rapt in pleasant thoughts, when the chatelaine of Malehaut came up to her and, almost inaudibly, sighed, “Ah, four. . . . Wouldn’t that be a welcome number, my lady?”
The queen at first pretended not to hear, but, when the remark was repeated, had no choice. “Why? What do you mean?”
“Perhaps I have already said too much. I don’t wish to be presumptuous and offend you.”
“On the contrary,” said the queen, “I will certainly be displeased if you won’t explain.”
“I thought of four when I saw the three of you in the meadow – you, Galehaut, and a certain knight who loves you more than anything else in the world. And no one,” she ventured to add, “could be more worthy of your love.”
“Oh! Do you know him?”
“Earlier this year he was as much in my power as now he is in yours.” And she related how she had offered hospitality to the unknown knight when he had been wounded, and given him the red shield and the black armor in which he had fought so brilliantly. “The day I saw him standing by the battlefield and sent him a message to fight, it was clear to me that you were the one he loved.”
“I still don’t understand your remark about four.”
Blaye explained, “When your knight is away from you, as must happen all too often, at least he can speak of his love to Galehaut. But you will be all alone, with no one to share your secret, unless we make a company of four.”
Guenevere was moved by the thought and said, “It’s not easy to keep anything from you! But since you have seen so much, and want to share my secret, so you shall. But you will have to share the burden of it as well.”
“I will do anything you ask, if I can have your friendship.”
“And yours will be so welcome to me that soon I won’t be able to live without you! Tell me,” the queen went on, “do you know the name of this knight?”
“No, my lady. He always refused to give me his name.”
The queen told her that the knight was Lancelot of the Lake, the son of King Ban of Benoic. “Ah,” thought Blaye, “the landless prince!” They spoke for a long time, and the queen insisted that Blaye share her bed, which she had been reluctant to do, feeling herself unworthy of such an honor. Before they slept, the queen asked her new friend if she was in love with anyone.
“No,” was the reply. “I did love someone once, but it never went beyond my thoughts.”
The next morning, they went to the royal pavilion, where Guenevere woke the king, chiding him for lying in bed so long. They left him there with Gawain and other knights, and walked across the meadow to the place where the love pact had been made. The queen relived those moments as she related every detail to Blaye. She went on to praise Galehaut for his wisdom and his discernment. “When I tell him about our friendship, I know he’ll be glad for me. In fact, we should leave right now – he may have already returned from his camp.”
When she had a moment to speak with Galehaut alone, Guenevere asked him whether there was any maiden or lady to whom he had pledged his love. When he assured her there was not, she said, “I have given my heart as you wished me to, and now I want you to do something similar for me. I have in mind a very noble lady, beautiful and rich, who has become my friend. I would like you to be her friend, too.”<
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Galehaut had a fleeting sense of being played like a piece on a chess board. “I am, of course, at your command, but who is she?”
“Blaye, the Lady of Malehaut. She was watching us last evening in the meadow, and saw everything that happened. She recognized Lancelot. He stayed with her at Malehaut when he had been injured, and it was from there that he went to fight for King Arthur. The red shield and the black armor were her gifts. I think she is worthy of you, and you of her, and that is why I seek to bring you together. When you and my knight must travel far away, you will have each other to share your joys and sorrows, as she and I will do, and all of us will take comfort from having someone to confide in.”
“Whatever you desire, my lady,” said Galehaut.
The queen turned toward Blaye, who was standing nearby, and asked, “Do you know that I plan to give your heart away?”
“Yes, my lady. It is yours to do with as you will.”
The queen took her hand and Galehaut’s. “My lord,” she said, as decisive in her move as anyone could be, “I give you to this lady to be her knight in true and faithful friendship. And you, lady, I bestow upon this knight to be his true and loyal friend. Do you agree?”
They both said they did, and the queen had them exchange a kiss as a sign of their commitment. Then she said, “I have thought of how the four of us can meet. We will go to our meadow again, but this time invite the king to walk there with us, and many knights and ladies will join us too. When it turns dark, Lancelot can come with the seneschal, and no one will notice him.”
That evening, the king walked with the Lady of Malehaut, and Galehaut with the queen, followed by men and women of the court. After a while, Arthur and Guenevere turned aside to talk with King Yder, a paragon of knightly courage and one of Arthur’s staunchest allies, who would soon be returning to his own land. Blaye and Galehaut strolled on together, and Blaye began to talk of Lancelot, telling how she had known him before and how greatly she admired him. “He was perfectly courteous,” she said, “and grateful for whatever help I could offer, but I always felt in him a great reserve. His beauty astonished me as much as his valor in the field.”
Galehaut, touched by this, told how the sight of Lancelot fighting had been a revelation. “My life changed at that moment. I saw what a man could be. Nothing I had cared about in the past was important to me any more. Now I only want what will make him happy.”
“The queen has confided in me,” said Blaye. “And I’m sure that you and I will find many ways to help them.”
Presently they were joined by Lancelot, and they all strolled through the meadow until they came to the grove of apple trees. By now it was quite dark. The queen and one of her ladies met them, and after a while Guenevere took Lancelot by the hand and drew him aside. She sat on the grass with the knight’s head in her lap. Silent caresses detained them there for a long time before they returned to the king. Lancelot went back to Galehaut’s tents with the seneschal, unobserved. In that way, the lovers were able to be together every night.
There came a time, toward the end of the warm season, when Sir Gawain had so well recovered from his wounds that he wanted to go home, and hoped to leave within two days. King Arthur had no objection, having delayed his own departure because of his nephew’s condition – and also because of his affection for Galehaut.
“Why not, then, invite him to go with you?” Gawain suggested. “His presence in Logres would do you honor. But even if he doesn’t come now, I’m sure we’ll see him there from time to time.”
Galehaut told the king that he too was obliged to return home, where many duties awaited him. “I have only stayed here so long because of you – and I know you have felt the same way.”
“I understand, dear friend. Just let me see you again as soon as you can.”
Galehaut said he would. That night the four friends met more in sadness than in joy, but they agreed to meet again at the first tournament to be held at Arthur’s court. After they parted, the queen bade King Arthur ask the Lady of Malehaut to join the royal household as her companion, and he invited her so warmly that she could only accept.
BOOK SIX: LANCELOT AND GALEHAUT
IT TOOK SEVERAL DAYS FOR GALEHAUT and Lancelot to reach the land called Sorelais, between Wales and the Distant Isles, and far from Arthur’s kingdom. Conquered from the King of Northumberland, it was the favorite of Galehaut’s possessions, with forests full of game, broad rivers, and rich farmlands. There were beautiful fortified towns and fine castles. Surrounding Sorelais, in the direction of Logres, was a great river called the Severn; the rest of the country was bordered by the sea. The Severn was swift-flowing, wide, and very deep. It could be crossed only at two points where there were long, narrow causeways, each guarded by a tower where a knight and ten men-at-arms kept watch. A knight wanting to cross was obliged to fight them, and if he lost, he was not merely turned back, but was entirely at their mercy. Men thought it an honor to be chosen for this post, which each defender held for a year and for which he was well paid. In this way, Sorelais was protected from intruders. Anyone brave and skilled enough to win his way across the river would be a welcome guest.
Galehaut kept his return to Sorelais as quiet as he could, attending to his duties as overlord but making no great display of his presence; and, except for the First Defeated King and the King of the Hundred Knights, no one knew who his companion was. There was fine hunting in Sorelais, which Galehaut always enjoyed, but Lancelot was given over to sadness, unable to think of anything but the queen. It pained Galehaut to witness his companion’s distress and to realize how little he could do to help him. The only comfort was the hope that news of a tournament would come before long.
Within a month of their arrival, the Lady of the Lake sent Lancelot’s cousin Lionel to serve as his squire until he was of age to become a knight. Lancelot was overjoyed to see him again, and it was easy to obey the Lady’s command that he hold Lionel as dear as herself. His unhappiness about the queen subsided, and Galehaut was equally delighted to welcome the handsome youth. If his affection alone could not bring cheer to Lancelot, he was satisfied to see his efforts reinforced by the presence of the newcomer. Lionel and his younger brother Bors were the sons of King Bors, King Ban’s brother, and his wife Evaine. On the death of their father, they had been captured and imprisoned by King Claudas but then magically rescued by the Lady of the Lake, who gave them the semblance of two fine greyhounds and thus brought them in disguise to the kingdom under the lake. There she had raised them with Lancelot. So Lionel now brought to Sorelais a reminder of the happiness they had shared in that charmed domain.
King Arthur, meanwhile, had been traveling through his lands, celebrating his return from the encounter with Galehaut with showers of largesse and splendid festivities for the delight of his people. Queen Guenevere and the Lady of Malehaut accompanied him, comforting each other, in endless private conversations, for the absence of those they loved. One afternoon, a squire announced to the queen that a maiden had come to see her with a message from the Lady of the Lake. Guenevere received her with pleasure, and the maiden presented a gift, a beautifully painted shield. On it were portrayed a noble woman of extraordinary beauty and a magnificent knight, fully armored except that he wore no helmet. They would have been joined in an embrace, had it not been for a crack that ran the length of the shield, so wide that a hand could easily pass through it. Only the strong cross-piece of the boss kept the two halves together.
The queen marveled at this, and asked how the shield, which appeared so new, had come to be cracked, and who were the knight and lady it portrayed. The maiden replied that the knight, who surpassed all others in valor, had served the lady with absolute devotion, performing for her sake deeds that were the wonder of the world. So far he had received from her only a partial expression of love, but when his reward was complete, the shield would be made whole. “My wise and beautiful mistress has charged me to say that she is the person closest to you in the world,
that she knows your very thoughts, for she loves the same knight you do.”
The queen detained her visitor for a while, wanting to do her honor, grateful for the gift and for its meaning. She had no doubt who the knight must be.
After visiting Camelot and Carleon, the king went to Carduel, his favorite city, where for two weeks he held court, inviting all who would appeal for justice to come before him. The king and his advisors heard every case with wisdom and generosity, all of them eager to do what was right and just.
When the audiences were over, the queen and Blaye were going to suggest a date for a tournament, but the king suddenly turned so melancholy that no entertainments could be envisioned. At length, his barons persuaded him to say what was preoccupying him. His court was dishonored, he told them, because the Red Knight had never been found, despite the fact that forty knights, led by Gawain, had spent almost a year searching for him. He himself was shamed – not only they – by the failure of their mission, and “is the very honor of the realm not thereby blemished?” Now, however, with his nephew’s health almost completely restored, the search could be resumed.
Gawain said to the king, in a voice loud enough to be heard throughout the hall, “You are right, my lord, and what you say is true. It would be shameful if I stayed here any longer! I swear by almighty God that you will not see me again before I have either found the Red Knight or learned what became of him.”
The knights of his own household, and fourteen others who had joined the earlier quest, resolved to arm themselves and set out anew.
But Arthur was jolted by their alacrity. After all, recent events had effaced the importance of that quest. Had the success of the Red Knight not proved a passing moment on the way toward the extraordinary achievement of the Black Knight? In truth, Arthur could ill afford to have a score of his finest knights out wandering, when the court required their protective presence. He wished he could take back his words. He went to tell the queen what had happened, imploring her to prevent Gawain from leaving, since nothing he himself could say was likely to change matters.
Lancelot and the Lord of the Distant Isles Page 8