The Squire's Quest
Page 18
"Really?" Terence asked. "Which features?"
"Never mind, Sarah replied primly.
"It's not funny, Terence, Eileen said. "It's an incredible pain in the ... in the features. I can't have a normal conversation with any of the other ladies. Within five minutes, they're dropping hints about Gawain and giggling. And I think it's nearly as bad for Gawain. The older knights disapprove of him for carrying on a clandestine affair, and the young knights treat him like some kind of romantic hero. They say he's just like Sir Tristram.
"He must love that, Terence said.
"Anyway, Gawain and I agreed to stay away from each other for a while, to let the rumors die down. We haven't spoken in a month.
"Is it working?
Eileen shrugged, but Sarah said, "Making things worse, more like. I think it's easier to invent stories about nothing at all than about a little. Gawain's been talking about going out on quest, just to get away, but he wanted to wait until you showed up.
"I'm glad he's still here, Terence said, his mind busy. "When is this ceremony supposed to take place tomorrow?
"Midmorning, Eileen said.
Terence turned back toward the window. "Don't tell anyone that you've seen me," he said. Then he slipped out into the darkness. He had to run some errands before catching a few hours of sleep in the darkness of the stables.
The crowds were gathering in the Great Court as Terence dressed with care, making sure every buckle was secure before pulling a monk's cowl over his head. He had no real fear of being recognized under the long hood—he had deliberately borrowed his cowl from Brother Albert, the tallest monk in the nearby Glastonbury Abbey—but neither did he see any need to show himself earlier than necessary. He waited in the recesses of the stable until he heard trumpets announcing the king's arrival. Then he made his deliberate way into the court, where the king was just beginning a speech to the assembled crowd.
"My friends, King Arthur began, "I have called you here today for a joyous occasion, but also one of sorrow. I have, for these many years, ruled you under the banners of truth and justice. I hope that I have been just, but I have not always been truthful.
This stark introduction had the effect of silencing the crowd. Knights, ladies, and courtiers looked uncertainly at one another, then back at the king. Behind Arthur, Terence saw the grim, white visage of Queen Guinevere. She may have given her permission for Arthur to reveal his infidelity, but she clearly wasn't happy about it.
"Sir Mordred!" called the king. "Come stand beside me. Mordred disengaged himself from a knot of admirers near the king and stepped up to the king's right hand. His face was a mask of innocent surprise. King Arthur went on. "You have all heard of Sir Mordred's deeds in Flanders and Bohemia. You know how he slew the two-headed dragon of Prague and the four brothers of Cassel. Moreover, even before his quest, you know how he fought beside Emperor Alexander at the Battle of Windsor and killed the rebel Count Anders with his own hand. Few knights have earned such acclaim so young."
Mordred's band of admirers, led by Agrivaine, burst into spontaneous applause. The king held up his hand for calm and, after a moment, continued. "Less impressive, but in many ways more admirable, is Mordred's ability to inspire others about him. He is a natural leader. My court has been blessed with many true heroes—Gawain, Lancelot, and others—but though heroes are rare, it is still rarer to find a hero who is also a leader of men. Mordred is such a hero.
Terence felt almost physically ill, but he kept his head down and continued to worm his way to the front.
"All this you have seen for yourselves," the king went on. "Thus far I have told you nothing new. But now I must reveal to you one more fact, unknown to you. Indeed, it is unknown to Mordred himself.
Mordred blinked and looked surprised, as Terence was sure he was not. Behind the king, Guinevere clenched her fists, then suddenly turned on her heel and hurried into the castle keep. King Arthur heard her footsteps and turned to see her disappear inside. His eyes were weary and strained, but his voice was steady as he continued.
"What I am about to say does not reflect well on me, and for that reason I have kept it hidden as long as I have. But to hide from truth is the greatest weakness of all. No wrong can ever be overcome by pretense, and lies can never serve the cause of good. Today I intend to reveal to you the whole truth, because partial truth looks too much like partial falsehood.
A low chuckle to Terence's right caught his ear, and something in the tenor of that voice made him look sharply toward its source. A bent old peasant woman, a basket of scrawny chickens in her arms, was watching the king with an expression of gleeful anticipation. Terence had never seen that face before, but her eyes were frighteningly familiar. Quickly he averted his own eyes before she should feel his gaze and look at him.
"Twenty years ago, King Arthur continued, "when I was new as a king, and newer still as a husband, I betrayed both my kingdom and my queen. Not a whisper of sound disturbed the courtyard. The crowd looked like so many brightly dressed statues. "Pretending that I was going off to pray, I used to put on borrowed armor and ride about challenging knights to joust with me. It seemed a harmless enough game to me, but as you will see, pretense is never harmless. While I was in disguise on one of these journeys, I came upon a young woman alone and seduced her.
There was a faint murmur from the crowd. The king allowed it to die down, then continued, "To take advantage of that woman was shameful. To hide the deed this many years was more shameful still. But I have been justly rebuked by a nobler example. Most of you know how Sir Mordred spoke openly about his own origins when he came to court, how his mother had been left with child by a wandering knight whose name he didn't even know.
The mutterings from the crowd grew louder as people began to realize what the king was saying. Arthur held up his hand, "And so, following the example of Sir Mordred, I reveal to you today that I was that wandering knight. Sir Mordred, you are my son. And now, at last, the full truth is revealed.
Even the murmurs stopped now, and in the stunned silence, Terence stepped forward and threw back the hood of his cowl. "Not the full truth, Your Highness.
Not yet.
"Terence? King Arthur said, gaping. Mordred whirled around and stared at Terence with undisguised hatred. Behind him, Terence heard a low growl from the old woman.
"You're right, O king," Terence continued, stepping closer. "A partial truth is a lot like a partial lie. You're right that you are Mordred's father. But you haven't told who his mother is.
King Arthur looked surprised, but his eyes grew suddenly wary and he cast a sharp glance at Mordred. "I don't know her name, the king said quietly.
"I do, Terence said, stepping between the king and Mordred and deliberately turning his back on the younger knight. "It isn't so hard to figure out, really. All you have to do is ask who would be so devious as to purposely entrap the king. She did, you know. You may think that you seduced her, but in fact, you were ensnared by a lying doxy.
"How dare you! roared Mordred, behind Terence. "To speak so of my dead mother!
Terence didn't even look over his shoulder. "Oh, she's not dead. That was just one of your lies. In fact, if I had to guess, I'd say that that the trollope wasn't far away, to watch her enemy's fall. Arthur's eyes widened, and Terence said, "That's right, sire. Mordred's mother is the enchantress who has tried so many times to destroy you, none other than—"
Terence sensed rather than saw the movement behind him, and he tensed his back and braced his feet. Mordred's dagger thumped heavily against his back, but Terence only staggered a couple of steps before turning around and facing the livid Mordred, who gasped, "You ... but I ... how did you?
"I'm wearing chain mail, Terence said calmly. "I only wish Bedivere had done the same.
With a cry of inhuman fury Mordred flung himself at Terence, who slipped easily through his arms. Terence wore a small dagger at his own side, but in the loose robes it might as well have been back in Greece. Instead he concentrate
d on evading Mordred's flashing dagger. Three times Mordred slashed at Terence, each time aiming at the head or throat, and three times Terence dodged the blow. When Mordred tried a fourth time, though, the dagger was knocked flying from his hand by two long swords that reached in from opposite sides and struck at nearly the same moment. Terence didn't even have to look to know who his rescuers were: he knew both swords by sight. Both were faery-made blades: Gawain's Sword Galatine and Arthur's Excalibur.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness, Terence said. "But it is true. Your only son is also the son of the enchantress Morgause, your greatest enemy. He was conceived and raised for no other purpose than to destroy your kingdom.
"Sleep! came a shrill shout from the crowd. Terence turned to see the old woman with the basket of chickens raise herself up to her full height and before their eyes assume the majestic form of Morgause herself. She held one hand in the air, and all around her people began to drop to the ground in charmed sleep. Gawain and Arthur both sagged, but Terence felt as awake as ever and caught Galatine before Gawain fell to the ground. In a moment only two figures remained standing: Morgause with her upraised arm and Terence, standing guard over the king.
"You have been bothersome again, squire, Morgause hissed. "Do you think you can save Arthur forever?"
"I know nothing about forever," Terence said. "But I can save him this time. It's what I do, you know."
At that moment a small hand, like that of a child, rested on Terence's forearm, and he glanced down into the face of his friend Robin. "Hallo, lad," the elf said. "Miss me?
"Where've you been?" Terence asked, his eyes flickering back to Morgause.
"Hanging about. But you've set us free from the Lady's spell," Robin said. "You and the king there, I mean. Her enchantments are crumbling. Then there were others with Robin, austere ladies and grinning sprites, all from the Seelie Court of the Noble Faeries.
Morgause uttered a shriek of frustration and shouted, "Come to us, my knight! A knight on horseback stormed through the open castle gates and rode up to where they stood. Leaning low from the saddle, he took Mordred by the collar and hauled him up over the pommel of the saddle. Morgause leaped lightly up behind him, and a moment later the three were gone.
"You're just letting them go?" Terence complained to Robin.
"Don't worry, the imp said reassuringly. "I'm sure they'll be back.
"That wasn't exactly what I ... Never mind, Terence said. In truth, he didn't know what he would do with Morgause if he had her prisoner anyway.
"The others will be waking up in a moment, Robin said. "We'll be off. Nicely done, today, your grace.
Then Terence was left, the sole standing figure in Camelot's Great Court. A moan came from his feet, and he saw Gawain stirring and rubbing his eyes. Terence returned his sword. "Here, milord. Thanks kindly.
It took nearly twenty minutes for everyone to be fully awake again, and then another half-hour for Terence to explain again how Morgause had seduced the king by enchantment so many years before, all as part of a deeply laid plot against his throne. Then he had to explain before everyone how Mordred had been behind every plot and rebellion and murder of the past months. The crowd of Mordred's admirers clearly hated hearing all this—Agrivaine's expression was positively venomous—but having seen Mordred lose control and try to stab Terence in the back, there was little anyone could say in his defense. Arthur seemed to grow grayer and older at each new revelation of his son's perfidy, but when Terence finished his speech, the king's voice was strong. "Terence, again I thank you. A little while ago, I called for truth; now I suppose I have to accept it."
"Your Highness? Terence said. "You were right. There's no virtue in pretense. And with your permission, I would like to reveal a lie of my own.
"You? A lie? the king stammered, blinking.
"Yes, sire. For many years now I have loved a noble lady, have even pledged myself to her and vowed to be faithful, but I have kept that love hidden.
"Why? asked the king.
"Because I'm just a squire, and she's a noblewoman. If it were known that she loved one so far beneath her, she'd be scorned.
"Terence, if any woman was ashamed of your love—" the king began.
"It wasn't her, sire. She's never asked for secrecy. I was the one who insisted on it. But I don't want to love in secret anymore. Terence turned in a circle, scanning the crowd for Eileen. At last Gawain nudged him and pointed to a window in the castle keep, just above their heads. "There you are, Terence said. "Eileen, would you marry me? In public this time, I mean.
Eileen lifted her chin and spoke in a ringing voice. "Of course I will, you ass, and if I might speak a bit of truth myself, it's about bleeding time, you blithering lackwit!"
Terence felt himself grinning foolishly, and he started for the stairs to go to her, but the king's hand dropped heavily on his shoulder. "One moment, Terence. There is one more pretense to clear up. Turning to the assembled crowd, King Arthur raised his voice in a shout. "Not for another second will I permit my friend and protector Squire Terence to pretend that he is a mere squire, or a mere anything! There is no knight in my kingdom to whom I owe more! Terence! On your knees!
Terence hesitated, confused.
"Now, Terence! roared Arthur. "Your king has given you a command, by God!
Terence dropped to his knees, and King Arthur raised the Sword Excalibur, then touched the flat of the blade on Terence's head and shoulders. "Today I make a knight. No, today I recognize as knight one who has been one for years. Rise, Sir Terence, and be known as a fellow of the Round Table. Be ever true to your God; protect always your neighbor; honor always your king.
Terence stood uncertainly, only vaguely aware of the cheers of the court. He was looking up into the smiling eyes of his Eileen. But behind him he could just make out Gawain's voice muttering, "Damn. Does this mean I have to polish my own armor?"
* * *
Author's Note
One of the most important—if not always the best—of the Arthurian storytellers was the French poet Chrétien de Troyes. Chrétien lived and wrote in the twelfth century, in Champagne, where he was fortunate enough to have a patroness—the noble Marie de Champagne—who paid his bills even when he churned out a stinker, which sometimes happened.
Chretien's tales were sometimes very good (like his Yvain) and sometimes very bad (like his Knight of the Cart). Some of them were never finished (Perceval) and others were misplaced entirely (such as his telling of the Tristram and Iseult story). But whatever else they were, Chretien's stories were influential. Chrétien changed the world of Arthurian legend forever. He was the one who made the stories as much about love as about adventure. You could almost say that Chrétien was the inventor of the love story.
But what a love Chrétien's "courtly love" was! In his tales, knights swore eternal faithfulness to their mistresses—rather than to, for instance, their wives—and their mistresses ruled these lovesick knights with an iron hand. Also, nearly all the Arthurian love stories end tragically. For some reason, it was considered romantic to die for love. Not half-witted: romantic.
Of Chrétien's love stories, perhaps the least known is his Cligés, which forms the skeleton of this book. Chrétien's version, like my own, is divided in half. Part One deals with the love of Emperor Alexander, and the second part with Cligés and Fenice. All the most outlandish parts of this book were borrowed directly from Chrétien, including Thessala's Potion of Good Dreams, Fenice's fake death, and Cligés's double entombment.
Retelling Cligés has also given me a chance to explore a part of the Middle Ages that is often ignored: the Byzantine Empire. This proud empire, with its capital at Constantinople (now Istanbul, Turkey), was the direct descendant of the ancient Roman Empire. While Byzantium was nowhere near as strong as ancient Rome, it was still a formidable power, with its own traditions, its own preferred language (Greek, rather than Latin), and even its own distinct style of church. Such a tradition certainly deserves to be studied.
Given that choice, I'll take the story every time. Historical accuracy isn't the point in Arthurian romances anyway. The few historical details that do appear in them are like bits of meat tossed into the fictional soup for flavoring. In the end, it all cooks together, and we swallow the whole dish. Just pretend it's historical, all right? And maybe you'll find something in the story that's real, which is not at all the same thing as accurate—and usually much better.
—Gerald Morris
* * *