The Death of King Arthur (12 page)

‘I cannot help what others say,' he told her. ‘But I will never marry. I am wedded to a life of battles and adventures. Nor will I take a lover. A good knight must be chaste and virtuous. If I lay with a woman I would lose half my strength. I might be undone by a lesser knight. No. I would rather be unwed than unhappy.'

So they took their leave of each other. Sir Lancelot rode for three days through a thick forest until he came to a long bridge that crossed a deep and swiftly running river. He was about to ride upon it when he was accosted by a churlish porter who struck his horse on the nose. ‘Who are you,' the man asked him, ‘to ride across this bridge without a licence?'

‘Why should I not come this way? I cannot ride beside it. I cannot ride on water.'

‘You have no choice in the matter.' The porter raised a great club of iron and was about to bring it down on Lancelot's back when the knight raised his sword and, with one blow, cut the man in two.

He rode on to the end of the bridge, and came to a village. The people gathered around him. ‘Fair knight, what have you done?' they cried. ‘You have killed the chief porter of our castle.' Sir Lancelot listened to them in silence, and then made his way to the castle itself.

He rode into the courtyard, and tied his horse to a great iron ring set in the stone. He looked around, and saw that there were many people standing at the doors and the windows. They called out to him. ‘Sir knight, what are you doing here? This is not the place for you.'

Then all at once two giants came out, wielding clubs of great size, and advanced upon him. Sir Lancelot put his shield before him and struck the club from the hands of one of them; he raised his sword and smashed the giant's head. The second giant then ran in fear, but Lancelot followed him. He flung himself upon him and finished him with a thrust through the neck.

He went back into the castle, and there came before him sixty ladies; they kneeled before him, and called out with one voice, ‘Welcome, gentle knight. You have rescued us from seven years' imprisonment. We were forced to make silk tapestries to earn our food, even though we are all gentlewomen. So we rejoice at our deliverance and bless the day that you were born. Will you tell us your name?'

‘Good ladies, I am Lancelot du Lake.'

‘We have hoped and prayed for your coming,' one of the women said to him. ‘No other knight has been able to conquer the giants. They were afraid only of you.'

‘I am glad of it. If I come this way again, I hope you will make me welcome. In recompense for your labour take all the treasure that the giants have amassed. And then restore the castle to its rightful owner. To whom does it belong?'

‘This place is called Tintagel. It was the property of Igraine who bore a son, Arthur, to Uther Pendragon. Do you know the story?'

‘Yes. I have heard it.'

Lancelot mounted his horse, and rode off. He journeyed through many strange countries, through waters and woods, along dark paths and evil ways. He crossed desolate heaths and marshes where the wild things dwell. Then at last by good fortune he found a castle in the keeping of an old lady; she welcomed him and lodged him with good will. After a delightful dinner she took him to a chamber, above the gatehouse, where he laid himself down to sleep.

He was roused by the sound of someone knocking at the gate. He went over to the window and saw one knight pursued by three others; they were threatening him with their swords. Lancelot recognized the man under attack as Sir Kay, son of Ector. ‘It would be a great dishonour,' Lancelot said, ‘to suffer one man to defend himself against three. I will not be a sharer in his death.' So with the help of a twisted sheet he let himself down from the window. ‘Turn, knights, upon me!' he shouted. ‘Leave your unequal fight.'

So they turned to Lancelot, and the three of them alighted from their horses. Then they charged him with drawn swords. Sir Kay advanced to help him, but Lancelot waved him away. ‘I will not need your assistance,' he said. ‘Leave me alone with them.' With seven strokes he laid all three of them at his feet.

‘Sir knight,' they said, ‘we surrender. Your sword is too strong for us.'

‘Surrender to this man,' he told them. ‘Then I will spare your lives.'

‘Surely we may yield to you? We would have overcome Kay.'

‘There is some justice in what you say. So this is what you will do. On next Whit Sunday you will go to the court of King Arthur, and there you will surrender yourselves to Guinevere, the queen. Say that Sir Kay sent you there as prisoners.'

The three knights swore on their swords that they would do so, and Sir Lancelot let them depart in peace.

Then Lancelot knocked on the gate with the pommel of his sword, and his host came out. ‘I had thought,' she said, ‘that you were asleep in your bed.'

‘So I was, but I was obliged to come to the rescue of an old comrade of mine.' They had come into the torchlight, and Sir Kay at once saw that his saviour was Lancelot. He fell to his knees, and thanked him for his service. ‘It was the least I could do,' Lancelot said. ‘Now rest yourself. Eat and sleep.'

Lancelot left him the next morning. Before he departed, however, he took the trouble of taking Sir Kay's armour and saddling Sir Kay's horse. He left his own armour and horse behind. ‘I know why he has done this,' Sir Kay said, when he discovered it. ‘He has left me his armour so that I might ride safely and in peace. He has taken mine to provoke more knights into battle with him.'

Sir Lancelot, meanwhile, had been travelling for a long time through a great forest filled with the sound of birdsong. At last he came into a country of fair rivers and meadows. He saw before him a long bridge, with three tents of silk raised upon it. The first of the tents was covered in blue silk, the second in purple silk and the third in green silk. There was a white shield before each tent, together with a spear, and at the entrance to each of the three tents stood a knight in armour. Sir Lancelot rode past them, and said nothing. When he had galloped into the distance, one of them, Sir Gawter, spoke out. ‘That was Sir Kay,' he said. ‘He considers himself the finest knight in the world. I will ride after him and test his pride. You will see how I fare.'

So Sir Gawter mounted a great horse, took his spear in his hand, and pursued Sir Lancelot. ‘Slow down!' he called out to him. ‘You shall not pass this way unscathed!' So Lancelot turned, took his sword, and came after Sir Gawter; he knocked him and his horse to the ground with one blow.

Another of the knights, Sir Gilmer, was astonished. ‘That was not Sir Kay. This man is far stronger. This man must have killed Sir Kay and taken his armour.'

The third knight, Sir Raynolde, prepared to mount his horse. ‘Whether it is Kay or not,' he told Gilmer, ‘let us ride out and rescue our brother. We will be hard pressed to match this knight, so be prepared to die.'

Gilmer was the first to reach him, but Lancelot took his spear and thrust him from his horse. Raynolde reined in his horse. ‘Sir knight, you are a strong man. But my anger makes me stronger. I believe that you have killed two of my brothers. Prepare yourself for my revenge.'

They fell upon each other. Their spears broke, and so they took out their swords and slashed furiously. Gawter and Gilmer had risen to their feet. They were weakened but they were not badly wounded. ‘Come, brother,' Gawter said. ‘Let us go to the aid of Raynolde, who is fighting so well against this unknown knight.' So they went for Lancelot, brandishing their swords. He made short work of all three of them. He cut down Raynolde before bringing Gawter and Gilmer to the ground once again.

Raynolde, his head all bloody and bruised, advanced on Lancelot, but the noble knight put up his sword. ‘Let it be,' he said. ‘I was not far from you when you were made a knight, Sir Raynolde, and I know you to be valiant. I do not wish to kill you.'

‘Thank God for your goodness,' Raynolde replied. ‘If I may speak for my brothers, we are willing to submit. But tell us your name. You are not Sir Kay.'

‘That is a matter for another day. Go to the court on Whit Sunday and there surrender yourselves to Queen Guinevere. Say that Sir Kay sent you.'

They swore that this should be done and, after Sir Lancelot had departed, they helped each other on to their horses. On their journey back they wondered aloud who this noble knight might be.

Lancelot himself had ridden into a dark wood, where the boughs of all the trees were bent into strange shapes, when he came upon a black hunting dog sniffing the air; she was on the trail of a wounded deer, so it seemed to Lancelot, and he followed her. The dog looked back at him from time to time, as if she were leading him forward. In the course of this journey, Lancelot passed a track of blood. They crossed marshland and streams until they came to an ancient castle. The dog ran over the bridge that crossed the moat, waiting for Lancelot on the other side. The knight then followed her into a great hall, where he saw a knight lying dead upon the floor; the dog had begun licking the knight's bloody wounds when a young lady came out, weeping.

‘Sir knight,' she said to Lancelot, ‘you have brought me too much sorrow.'

‘Why do you say that? I did no harm to the dead man lying here. The dog brought me to this place. Do not be displeased with me. I grieve for you.'

‘I believe that you are speaking the truth. I was testing you. But it was not you who killed my husband. He who performed that deed will himself be badly wounded. And I shall make sure that he never recovers.'

‘What was your husband's name?'

‘Sir Gilbert the Bastard. No better knight rode in the world.'

‘God send you comfort.'

With these words he left her and went back into the dark wood. Within a short time he was hailed by a lady who seemed to know him. ‘You are well found,' she called out to him. ‘On the vows of your knighthood I request you to help my brother, who lies helpless and bleeding close by. He fought Sir Gilbert the Bastard in plain battle, and was badly wounded. The dead man's wife is a witch. She told me that my brother's wounds would never be healed until I could find a knight that was willing to ride to the Perilous Chapel; in that sacred place he will find a sword and a cloth smeared in blood. A piece of that cloth, together with the sword, will restore my brother to health.'

‘This is a marvellous thing,' Lancelot replied. ‘What is your brother's name?'

‘Sir Meliot de Logris.'

‘I know him well. He is a knight of the Round Table. Of course I will help him.'

‘Then follow this path. It will bring you to the Perilous Chapel. I will remain here until by God's grace you return. If you cannot succeed in this quest, I know of no other knight that can save him.'

So Lancelot rode off. When he came up to the Perilous Chapel he tied his horse to a little gate and entered the churchyard. It was a small chapel made of stone, and on the stones themselves were carved many curious signs and devices; some were in the shape of an ‘S' and others had images of the Holy Cross. As he came towards the door of the chapel, itself wondrously carved, thirty giant warriors rose up from the ground of the churchyard; they wore black armour and carried black shields before them, as if they were the guardians of this sacred place. When Lancelot saw their faces he was a little afraid, so fierce and formidable they seemed, but he put his shield before him and walked forward. They made way for him, scattering to either side, and so emboldened he entered the chapel. It was suffused with the dim light of candles, and the air was sweet with incense. A corpse was lying before the altar, covered by a cloth of silk. There was a sword beside the bier. And the cloth was all bloody.

Sir Lancelot stooped down and cut out a piece of that cloth; as he did so he felt the ground shaking beneath him. The chapel trembled. He picked up the sword and strode out. The knights in the churchyard now menaced him. ‘Knight,' they said, ‘lay down that sword or you shall die!'

‘No words of yours will sway me,' he replied. ‘Whether I live or die, you must fight me to win the sword.' So they moved aside, and he went on his way.

Beyond the churchyard he came across a fair lady. ‘Sir Lancelot,' she said. ‘Abandon this sword, or you will die for it.'

‘I take no heed of threats, lady.'

‘You have answered well,' she replied. ‘If you had laid down that sword, you would never have seen Guinevere again.'

‘I would have made a mistake then.'

‘Now, gentle knight, I must ask you to kiss me. Just once.'

‘God forbid.'

‘You have saved yourself, sir. If you had decided to kiss me, you would have fallen dead at my feet. All my labour has been lost. Shall I tell you the truth? I have loved you for the last seven years, but I know that no woman can embrace you except Guinevere. I had decided that if I could not have you alive, I would have you dead. I would have embalmed your corpse, and kissed it night and day.'

‘Thank you for telling me, lady. And Jesus save me from your subtle crafts!' With that, he rode away. The books say that, on his departure, this woman pined away and died within a fortnight. Her name was Hallewes the Sorceress.

So Lancelot rode on and, in the course of his travels, he came upon the sister of Sir Meliot once more. When she saw him she clapped her hands and wept for joy. ‘Now at last,' she said, ‘I can take you to my brother.' She led him into a castle where Sir Meliot lay bleeding.

When the wounded man saw Lancelot he got to his knees. ‘Lord,' he said, ‘help me in my distress.' Lancelot leaped from his horse and touched Meliot with the sword he had taken from the Perilous Chapel, and then wiped his wounds with the cloth he had found there. The wounded knight was healed at once. There was much joy and feasting but, before Lancelot took his leave, he told Meliot to appear at the court of Arthur on the next Whit Sunday.