by Howard Pyle
So Sir Launcelot suffered those two pages to clothe him in that raiment, and presently he came forth from the cell, shining as with great glory. And he mounted upon the great white horse which the Queen had brought him, and so they rode away together from that place.
Sir Launcelot returneth to the court.
Now there were at court several who were unfriends to Sir Launcelot; some of these were unfriends because they were malicious, others because they were jealous of his fame; others for this reason, and others for that reason. Two of these were Sir Mordred and Sir Agravaine, who were brothers to Sir Gawaine. Then there was Sir Kay the Seneschal and Sir Florence and Sir Lovel, who were sons to Sir Gawaine, and who were jealous of Sir Launcelot upon Sir Gawaine’s account.
These and several others were unfriends to Sir Launcelot, and they talked much amongst themselves concerning the return of Sir Launcelot, saying, “Lo! this knight hath come forth out of the forest and hath assumed his knighthood again over us all, yet at first he would not come, but when the Queen went thither then he beheld her and followed her forth.”
Sir Launcelot heareth unfriendly talk.
These words and words like them came to the ears of Sir Launcelot, and because of them he withdrew himself from the presence of the Queen, and consorted with other lords and ladies of the court. This the Queen observed, and was grieved at it, for she wished for Sir Launcelot to be with her, and she desired to have him near to her. So one day she sent for Sir Launcelot to come to her and she gazed at him for some time without speaking. Anon she said to him, “Launcelot, why dost thou keep thyself afar off from me?” He replied, “Lady, I avoid thee for thine own sake and not for my sake.” To the which she said, “How is that?”
He said, “I will tell thee. There is much talk about this court concerning thee and concerning me, and that talk links our names together. I fear not this talk upon mine own account. For it cannot hurt me, but it may do great injury to thee; therefore do I hold myself away from thee.”
Then Queen Guinevere began weeping, and she said, “Ah, Launcelot, Launcelot! Thou art not to me as thou one time wert. For one time thou wert ever ready to come to me, but now thou keepest thyself afar off from me. That which thou sayst is thy excuse for not being with me, and is not the cause of that absence.” Then she said of a sudden to him, “Go! Get thee away from this court, for thou bringest nothing but disturbance to my soul.”
Then Sir Launcelot said very bitterly, “Lady, it would have been well for both of us if thou hadst permitted me to remain where I was in the forest, and not have tempted me to quit my sanctuary.”
Then the Queen cried out upon him, “How now! What is this thou sayst? I went to thee to save thee and not to tempt thee. If thou longest for thy husks again, return to them. At any rate, get thee gone from me, and never come near to me again. For thou bringest naught but sorrow and great tribulation to me.”
Sir Launcelot departeth again from the court.
So Sir Launcelot bowed and withdrew from where he was, and his heart was filled with a great despair. So he came to where Sir Bors and Sir Lionel were and he told them all that had passed. And he cried out to them, “What now shall I do who have sacrificed my sanctuary and have got naught by that sacrifice?”
Then quoth Sir Bors, “It would have been well for thee, if thou hadst never quitted that safe sanctuary within the forest. But as thou now hast quitted it, so mayst thou not return to it again. For so wouldst thou strive to walk backward into that which hath passed. No man may do that in the life which he leads.
“As for the anger of the Queen, soon will she forget that anger, and as soon as she forgets it, then will she desire to see thee again. For so hath she done several times before, and so will she do again.”
Said Sir Launcelot, “I will go to my castle of Joyous Gard and there will I abide until her anger against me hath grown cold again.”
He departeth to the castle of Sir Brasius.
“Not so,” said Sir Bors, “the Queen spake truly in this; that thy place is in the field, and neither in the hermit’s cell, nor enclosed in the walls of that castle. But get thee to the castle of Sir Brasius the Good Knight, and there abide for a little while, seeking such adventures as may be found around about. For when the Queen’s mind changes toward thee, then wilt thou easily be found at that place, and either I or Sir Ector will come to seek thee.”
“Thou sayst well,” said Sir Launcelot. “Thither will I go and there will I stay until thou or Sir Lionel sendest for me.”
So Sir Launcelot took horse and rode away to the castle of Sir Brasius, and there took up his inn.
But never, at any time, did anyone ever behold him to smile. For though in the earlier days of his knighthood he had a happy and jocund spirit and frequently smiled, yet now that happiness had departed from him and he never smiled. For many sad things had happened to him in his life, and those things had destroyed that happiness as a hailstorm destroys those flowers that to-day are and to-morrow are not, but are withered and dead like the grass in the fields.
Thus I have told you all those circumstances that led to Sir Launcelot’s returning to Court, and as to his withdrawing himself thence again. For so it is that though a man may think to return again into that life from which he has passed, yet he cannot do so. For the life that is lived in once and which hath been laid aside for another life, that first life is dead and cannot be revivified again by the man’s entering into it again, but remaineth dead for aye.
So it was with Sir Launcelot, for, when he had committed the sin of leaving the Lady Elaine the Fair, he had committed it, and all that befell him thereafter became colored by that evil happening. For, because of that sin he failed to behold the Holy Grail with the eyes of his body, and now, because of that sin, and of what was said concerning him and his doings, he was compelled to exile himself again from that court in which, by grace of his chivalry and force of arms, he truly belonged.
So let us take warning by this example and let us not try to return to the life which we may have left, but let us endeavor to live that other life that now presents itself to us after such a happening, whether of good or of evil.
Now followeth that which treats of the poisoning of Sir Patrice of Ireland at the feast given by Queen Guinevere; so if you would hear how Sir Launcelot saved the life of the Queen at that time, I pray you to read what followeth.
Chapter Second
How Queen Guinevere held a feast, and how Sir Patrice of Ireland was poisoned at that feast.
NOW AFTER SIR Launcelot had quitted the Court of King Arthur as aforetold of, the Queen pretended to great joyousness of heart, although there was no joyousness within her. “I was hasty,” she said to herself, “and Sir Launcelot was hasty and hath left me again. But this was my fault and I must show no repining, but must appear to be cheerful to all. So I will give a feast, that my seeming joyousness may be made manifest to the world, and no one shall have cause to say that I repine at the loss of Sir Launcelot.” So said the Queen to herself upon that occasion.
Queen Guinevere proclaimeth a feast.
So she proclaimed a feast, and she had at that feast the following knights of the Round Table: there were Sir Gawaine and his brothers, to wit, Sir Agravaine, Sir Geharis, Sir Gareth, and Sir Mordred. Also there were Sir Bors de Ganis, and Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, and Sir Blamor de Ganis, and there were Sir Galahad and Sir Galyhadin and Sir Ector and Sir Lionel and Sir Palamydes and Sir Safyr; and there were Sir Persavant and Sir Ironside and Sir Brandiles; and there were Sir Kay the Seneschal and Sir Mador de la Porte and Sir Patrice of Ireland, and Sir Alyduke and Sir Artamore.
Now at that time Sir Lamorack of Gales had been slain, and report placed his death at the hands of Sir Gawaine (although this report was not true), and of two of Sir Gawaine’s brothers, to wit, Sir Agravaine and Sir Geharis.
There was at the Court of King Arthur a certain knight hight Sir Pinal the Savage, who was cousin to Sir Lamorack, and Sir Pinal was very bitter against S
ir Gawaine, and was anxious to be revenged upon him, yet he wit not how to take that revenge.
Sir Pinal, surnamed the Savage, poisoneth an apple.
Now Sir Gawaine had a custom of eating an apple immediately after he had dined, and this Sir Pinal was aware of. So Sir Pinal took the fairest apple he could find, and he introduced into it a very subtle and very malignant poison, and this apple he placed in the centre of the table, and in the midst of all the fruit. For he said to himself, “There will Sir Gawaine find this apple, and he will take it and eat it and will die.” And he said, “Queen Guinevere will be blamed for that death, for all the world knoweth that she and Sir Gawaine are unfriends.” So said Sir Pinal, for he thought thus to be revenged for the death of Sir Lamorack upon Sir Gawaine, and he knew not how else to achieve that vengeance. For next to Sir Launcelot, Sir Gawaine was the strongest knight of the court, and he was besides nephew to King Arthur and of great importance in the King’s household. Wherefore it was that Sir Pinal sought to slay Sir Gawaine by that poisoned apple.
Sir Patrice of Ireland eateth the apple, and dieth.
But at the end of that feast Sir Gawaine did not take the apple, but instead of Sir Gawaine, Sir Patrice of Ireland took it. And Sir Patrice bit a great bite into that apple, and he ate that piece. Then anon he cried out in a very loud and piercing voice, “Hah! What is this that ails me?” And then he cried out in a very terrible voice, “Alas! I am poisoned and I die from eating this apple!” And he cried out again, “Friends, see that my death is avenged!”
Therewith he fell down to the ground in great agony, lashing with his hands and feet and frothing at the mouth, and so in a little while he died.
Then Sir Gawaine rose up, and he turned his face toward the Queen, and his face was very white, and he said, “Lady, how is this? This apple was poisoned! For whom was it intended?”
Sir Gawaine accuseth the Queen.
The Queen hid her face in her hands for horror of what she had beheld, and she cried out in a very shrill voice, “I knew not that it was poisoned, and I know not how it was poisoned!” Sir Gawaine said, “That apple was poisoned, and thou knewest that it was poisoned. Methinks it was intended for me. Thou hast always borne enmity toward me, wherefore thou didst place that apple upon the table that I might eat of it. One time thou wert innocent, but now thou art innocent no longer, but art full of malice and guile, wherefore thou hadst the will to poison me.”
Then the Queen cried out with a great passion, saying, “Gawaine, thou and I were never friends, but rather would I cut off my right hand than to do so evil a thing as this, to seek to poison thee.”
Sir Mador de la Porte also accuseth the Queen.
Then Sir Mador de la Porte stood up before them all, and he said, “Lady, that which thou sayst may deceive some who are here, but it shall not deceive me. For I know of thy comings and of thy goings, and I know how thou didst of malice hold Sir Launcelot here at court when he would fain have followed the Lady Elaine away from this place, and because that Sir Launcelot remained here the Lady Elaine died. From this I know that thy heart is full of guile and wickedness, wherefore it is but a step from that sin to the sin of poisoning.”
The Queen weepeth.
So saying, Sir Mador went out from that place, and all the other knights followed after him; for Sir Mador was a king’s son, and of great importance at the court. Then the Queen was left there alone, weeping with great passion, for she wist not how that poison had been administered to Sir Patrice. After that came several men who were in the suite of Sir Mador, and they took up the body of Sir Patrice and they bore it away from that room.
Sir Mador appeareth before the High Court of the King.
As soon as might be, Sir Mador de la Porte appeared before the King as he sat in council, and he appealed the Queen of treason in that she was a murderess; and this he proclaimed before the King and all his council.
Then King Arthur turned very white and he bowed his head and anon he said, “Sir Mador, what wouldst thou have me do in this case? For lo! thou dost attaint the Queen of murder, and I do not believe it possible that she could do so wicked and so evil a thing as this. Wherefore thou must tell me what thou wouldst have me do in this instance.”
Sir Mador challengeth the Queen of treason.
Quoth Sir Mador, “Lord, I do accuse her of having administered poison at her feast, whereof my cousin Sir Patrice died. In that she certes hath committed treason against thee and against us all, for this feast of hers was held here, in this castle, and we were her guests. So accusing her, I am ready to defend that accusation with my body.” So saying, he flung his glove down upon the ground, and he cried out, “Here lieth my glove in gage of battle, and I will defend my accusation with my own person, my accusation being that the Queen is a murderess.” Quoth the King, “Hast thou no pity and no mercy for this lady who is thy Queen? Hast thou no honor and no regard for me, thy King?” And Sir Mador made reply, “Not in this case! For in this case I have no regard for anything but to punish the guilty.”
Then the King arose, and he said, “Send for the Queen to come hither, so that she may face her accuser.”
The Queen appeareth at the High Court.
So anon the Queen came, and two ladies supported her, one upon one side and the other upon the other. And the Queen wore her veil over her face for she had been weeping continually and with great passion ever since the ending of that feast. Now there were many knights gathered there and many lords and ladies of several sorts, and some of these were the Queen’s friends and felt sorrow for her, but some of them felt satisfaction that she was accused.
The King said, “Arise, Lady, and stand.” And thereupon the Queen stood up before the King and Sir Mador de la Porte and the entire council. Then the King said to her, “Lady, this knight, Sir Mador de la Porte, accuses thee of having used poison at thy feast. What hast thou to say to that?”
Then the Queen put back her veil and she had ceased to weep, and her eyes were very hard and proud, albeit her face was extraordinarily white. “Sir,” she said, “thou knowest me well — no one better — and thou knowest that with all my shortcomings (and they be many), I could never do such a thing as that, to poison an enemy at mine own table. For I have many enemies at this court, and amongst them is thine own nephew, Sir Gawaine; for he is my bitterest enemy, and hath always been so. It was he who first accused me at that feast of having used poison, and because he is thy nephew and because he is so powerful at court, there be few knights here who will defend mine innocence against mine accusers, when he stands at the head of those accusers, holding that I attempted to poison him. Had I Sir Launcelot here at court, then would I have had a good worthy defender of mine honor, but I have driven Sir Launcelot away from me by my pride and anger, and he is not now here to defend mine innocence. Yet I believe that someone will arise to defend it, wherefore I will accept this knight’s gage of battle and will abide by it, come life, come death.”
Then the King groaned, and he bowed his head, and at last he said, “Lady and Queen; thou art the wife of my youth, and I would fain defend thee myself. But this cannot be, for I am the King, and the head of all the laws. Nevertheless, I believe that some champion will arise for thee; for it is not possible that in this court there is no knight who will arise to defend thine innocence. Wherefore, let it be as thou sayst. Here shall the glove of Sir Mador de la Porte lie upon the ground, until some defender arises to take it up, and if no other defender arises, then will I take it up mine own self. Let us now depart.”
So with that they all arose and left that place, and left Sir Mador de la Porte’s glove still lying upon the floor of the council chamber.
The Queen asketh Sir Bors to defend her.
That night a messenger came to Sir Bors asking him to come to the Queen, and Sir Bors went with the messenger, who took him to the bower of the Queen where she was. When Sir Bors entered that place he found that the King was with the Queen. Then the Queen arose and stood before him. And sh
e set her hands together, the palm of one against the palm of the other, and she said, “Sir Bors, will you not serve as my champion in this quarrel?”
Then Sir Bors bowed his head, and anon he said, “Lady, I would you had asked someone else to act as your champion.”
The Queen looked at him very proudly, and she said, “Why do you say that? Had I known that your feelings were such, then I would not have troubled you by asking that service of you. But you are the nephew of Sir Launcelot, and you are a good worthy knight and one of those three who have achieved the Grail. Wherefore I ask you why you are not willing to serve as my champion. Do you then also believe that I would poison a guest at the feast which I prepared for the entertainment of such noble and worthy champions?”
“Nay,” said Sir Bors, “I think no such thing as that of you, Lady. But in this quarrel there be many upon either side who are my friends, and if I fight upon one side then my friends upon the other side would fall away from me because I did so.”
“Alas!” said the Queen. “The time was when I had many knights upon my side. For did not Sir Pelles in the days of my youth take a foolish quarrel upon him for my sake? And did not Sir Launcelot stand ever ready to defend me? Oh, Launcelot, Launcelot! If thou wert but here to stand my champion in this quarrel! But thou art not here, for I, in my haste, have driven thee away from me, I know not whither.” So said Queen Guinevere, and with that she began weeping as though her heart would break.
Sir Bors will serve as the Queen’s champion.
Then Sir Bors was very much moved and he said, “Weep not, Lady, for thou hast yet no cause for weeping. Thou yet hast many good true knights who would defend thee. Yea; I will serve as thy champion unless a better champion arise to defend thee. So take thou heart of grace in this, that thou art innocent of this crime; wherefore, may God defend the right.”
The Queen declareth her innocence.
At this the Queen took comfort and wiped her eyes and smiled, and she said, “Sir Bors, for thy satisfaction I hereby make thee my solemn vow that I did not do this thing of which I am accused. And methinks I know who it was who laid that poisoned apple upon the table, for there was an attendant at that table who stood behind a screen, and this attendant beheld a knight come into that room ere others came thither. But I cannot accuse that knight now, for I myself am accused, wherefore if I accuse him, all will say that it is to shelter myself that I make that accusation.”