The Death of King Arthur (27 page)

Sir Lancelot wept. ‘I know the truth of it.'

‘Confess to me now,' the holy man said.

‘Father, I have sinned. I have been in mortal sin for the last fourteen years.' Then he told the hermit all about his love for Guinevere. ‘I have fought for her, right or wrong, in all that time. I have tried to win her love and favour, and I never once considered the claims of God upon me. I pray you, sir, to counsel me.'

‘I can advise you, if you wish. You must no more come into the queen's company. You must forswear her for ever, as much as it lies within your power to do so.'

‘I do so swear.'

‘Make sure that your heart and mouth accord in this. If you are true to your word, I promise you that you will win more worship.'

‘Holy father, I must tell you of the words that came from the chapel.' So he related all that had occurred.

‘That is no marvel,' the hermit told him. ‘It is proof that God still loves you. You are as hard as stone because you refused to leave your sinfulness. God's gifts did not soften you. A stone cannot be subdued by fire. In similar fashion the heat of the Holy Spirit cannot enter you. God gave you health and strength. He granted you wit and wisdom, to tell good from bad. You turned your face from Him. That is why you are more bitter than the leaf of a fig tree. You bear the weight of sin. When Our Lord preached in Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, he found the people there to be steeped in their iniquity. There was no one in that city who would welcome Him. He left the city, and found a fig tree growing outside the walls. It was flourishing there; it was full of leaves, but it had no fruit. Then Our Lord cursed the tree that bore no fruit, as a very token of Jerusalem itself. You are the fig tree, Lancelot. He found in you no fruit. He found neither good thought nor good will; he saw only lechery.'

‘All this is true,' Lancelot replied, with bowed head. ‘I repent of my wickedness. And I vow to you to do penance for my sins.'

The hermit pronounced his penance, and then absolved him. ‘Stay with me for this day,' he said to him.

‘Willingly. I have no helmet or horse.'

‘I will give them to you tomorrow evening.'

And Lancelot kneeled down and prayed, in sorrow for his sins.

True to his word the hermit brought him a helmet, horse and sword on the following evening. Lancelot rode out, and soon found himself beside a small chapel; from the door of this place came an old man, dressed all in white. Lancelot saluted him, and gave him greeting. The old man smiled at him. ‘God keep you safe, sir, and make you a good knight.'

Lancelot then dismounted and went inside the chapel. He saw there a dead man lying on a bier, clothed in white. ‘This monk,' the old man told him, ‘was a man of faith for one hundred years. Then he broke his oath by wearing a garment of white wool.' The man then placed a stole around his neck and, taking up an ancient book, murmured certain words. At that moment a fiend, more foul than words can tell, came among them.

‘You have awoken me,' the fiend said. ‘What is it that you want from me?'

‘I wish to know how this man lying here died. Is he in heaven or in hell?'

Then in a horrible voice the devil replied to him, ‘He is not lost. He is saved.'

‘How can that be? He broke the oath of his order. He wore a white shirt when all clothes of that kind were forbidden to him.'

‘Not so. This man was of high lineage. His nephew came to him for help, in a war against Earl de Vale. So this hermit, lying here, left this place and fought against the earl, utterly defeating him. The earl decided to have his revenge. He sent two of his relations to the chapel here in order to waylay the holy man. They set upon him after he had finished saying mass. They drew out their swords, but no weapon could injure him. The Lord God was his protection. Then they tried to burn him by setting fire to his clothes. “Do you try to destroy me with fire?” he said to them. “Not one flame will affect me.”'

‘Then they took him up, forced him to wear this white shirt, and thrust him into a fire. He lay there all day and all night, but he did not die. I arrived here on the following morning. He was then dead, but not one thread of his shirt nor one inch of his skin had been singed by the flames. I took him from the fire, in great fear of such saintliness, and laid him here. This is the truth. Now I must leave you.'

Then, with a noise like a great tempest, the fiend vanished from sight. The holy man, and Sir Lancelot, both rejoiced that this dead man was not among the damned. Lancelot stayed with the holy man that night.

‘Sir,' the hermit asked him the next morning, ‘am I right in thinking that you are Sir Lancelot du Lake?'

‘That is my name.'

‘What do you seek in this country?'

‘I am in quest of the Holy Grail.'

‘You cannot catch sight of it, even if it were before you here. You can no more see it than a blind man can see a bright sword. Your sins come before you. Otherwise there would have been no knight more worthy.' Lancelot bowed his head and wept. ‘Have you given your confession since you took on the quest?' the hermit asked him gently.

‘Yes, father.'

‘I will say mass with you. And then we must bury this good man.'

When they had put him in the ground, Lancelot kneeled down. ‘What shall I do to be saved?'

‘Take this hair shirt that belonged to the holy man we have just buried. Place it next to your skin. It will be of great help to you. I also charge you, sir, to eat no meat and drink no wine while you remain on your quest. And, if it is possible, you must hear mass every day.'

‘I promise to obey you,' the knight said.

At evensong Sir Lancelot left the chapel, and made his way into a forest. Among the trees he came upon a gentlewoman riding on a white palfrey.

‘Sir knight,' she asked him, ‘where are you travelling?'

‘I go, lady, wherever fortune leads me.'

‘Ah, Lancelot,' she replied, ‘I know well enough what you seek. You were nearer to it before than you are now. Yet soon you will see it more clearly than ever you did.' Lancelot asked her where he might find lodging. ‘You will find none for a day and a night. But, after that time, you will find a good resting place.'

So Lancelot rode on until he came to a cross. He dismounted and prayed, and before long he fell asleep beneath the cross. And as he slept he was vouchsafed a vision. A man came before him, adorned with bright stars and crowned with a circlet of gold. He led forward seven kings and two knights, who fell down on their knees before the cross and held up their hands in worship towards heaven. ‘Sweet Lord,' they cried, ‘come to us here on earth. Bring us bliss or woe, according to our worth.'

And in his vision Lancelot looked up at the heavens. It seemed to him that the clouds opened, and that an old man came down with a company of angels. This holy man blessed the kings and knights, and called them his servants – all except one knight, whom he approached with a look of warning. ‘You have wasted and profaned all the gifts I lavished on you,' he told him. ‘You have fought in wars for the sake of your own glory. Pride, not truth, has been your tutor. Return those gifts to me or meet your ruin.'

So ended Lancelot's vision. On the following morning he took horse and rode on until midday. Quite by chance he came across the knight who had stolen his helmet and horse, on the evening when the Holy Grail had appeared before the marble cross. ‘Prepare yourself!' Lancelot called out to him. ‘You have done me wrong.'

They put their spears before them, and charged. Lancelot had the better of the contest, and soon enough the knight was upon the ground. Lancelot took back his old horse, and went on his way. He rode until nightfall, when he found a hermit praying in a small chapel by a stream. They greeted one another, and the hermit invited him to sleep that night beside the altar. ‘From where do you come?' he asked him.

‘I am from the court of King Arthur, father, and my name is Sir Lancelot du Lake. I am in quest of the Holy Grail. So may I ask you this? What is the meaning of the vision I was granted last night?' He then recounted all that he had seen.

‘This is a token of your high lineage,' the hermit told him. ‘The seven kings and the two knights are the descendants of Joseph of Arimathea. The last of the seven kings, King Ban, was your father. The first knight, whom the holy man warned, is yourself. The second knight was your son, Sir Galahad, and he will be called the lion. He has the virtues of the lion.'

‘Is he, then, the most virtuous of all?'

‘Did he not assume the Perilous Seat at the time of Pentecost? I entreat you to acknowledge him as your son. But do not attempt to challenge him. No knight will ever defeat him.'

‘No. I will beg him to pray for me instead. His virtue may help to vanquish my sins.'

‘You will fare all the better for his prayers. Yet you know that the father cannot bear the sins of the son, nor the son bear the sins of his father. Each man must carry his own burden.'

They had supper together, and afterwards Lancelot lay down to rest. The hair shirt chafed and tore his skin, but he endured it for the love of God. The next morning he heard mass, and then rode out.

He came on to a fair plain, where there stood a great castle. There were many tents beside it, of diverse hues, and on the plain paraded five hundred knights. Those from the castle were clad in black armour and rode on black horses; the strangers wore white armour, and had white horses. Lancelot watched as they rode against each other. It seemed to him that the white party had the better of it, and so he decided to go into battle on behalf of the weaker side. That is the sign of a good knight. He readied his spear and rode into the throng. He was successful at first, but the white knights surrounded him and so harried him that he hardly had the strength to stay on his horse. They took advantage of his weariness and led him and his horse from the field. ‘You are now out of the way,' they told him, ‘thanks be to God.' Then they defeated the fellowship of the castle, despondent at the absence of Lancelot.

Lancelot himself was left to his sorrow. ‘I am ashamed,' he said aloud among his sighs. ‘I have never before been defeated. It is a sign that I am more sinful than ever.'

He rode on, in despair, until he came to a deep valley. He could not descend its side and so he lay himself down to rest beneath an apple tree. He thought then that an old man appeared before him. ‘Sir Lancelot, Sir Lancelot,' he said, ‘you are of little faith. Why is it that you are turned so easily to deadly sin?'

The old man then disappeared. Lancelot roused himself, and continued on his way. He rode along a path until he came to a chapel where lived a recluse; she had a small side room, with a window overlooking the altar. She called out to him as he rode past, and asked him several questions about his journey. He told her of his dreams and visions; he told her also of the tournament between the white knights and the black knights.

‘Ah, Lancelot,' she said, ‘that tournament was a token of Our Lord's grace. It was no enchantment. They were indeed earthly knights. The white knights were from the court of Eliazar, son of King Pelles, while the black knights came from Argustus, son of King Harlon. Yet they held another meaning. The black knights are a token of all those covered in sin, while the white knights are a sign of purity and chastity. You looked upon a battle between sinners and good men; yet you were inclined to side with the sinners, were you not? You thought more of your pride and your standing in the world. Yet vainglory is not worth a turd. You must vanquish yourself before you will see the Holy Grail. That is why the old man, in a vision, accused you of little faith. If you do not mend your life, you will fall into the deepest pit of hell. Of all knights, I pity you the most. You have no peer among sinful men. Beware of everlasting pain.'

Lancelot took his leave of her, and rode along the valley. He came to a river, overflowing with deep and terrible waters. It is known as Mortaise. He had to make his way through these black waves.

The Quest Goes On

After he had encountered Sir Lancelot and Sir Percival, Sir Galahad rode further and further into the wild wood, where the shadows faded in his presence, until at last he came out by the open sea. He went along the coast, until he arrived at a castle where a tournament was being held. He realized that the knights outside the walls were winning the battle against those who defended the castle from within. He went to the rescue of the defenders, and galloped into the midst of the attackers with his spear in front of him. He knocked the first man to the ground, and his spear broke. But he took out his sword, and made short work of those around him. It so happened that Sir Gawain and Sir Ector de Maris were among the knights assaulting the castle. When they saw him, with his white shield on which was painted the red cross, they knew at once that it was Galahad. ‘Only a fool,' Ector said, ‘would ride against him. He is the high prince.'

Yet at that moment Galahad rode past and, with his sword, slashed Gawain so severely that the blade gave the knight a great wound in the head and sliced into his horse. When Sir Ector saw Gawain fall to the ground, he went over and rescued him. ‘Now I understand the truth of what Lancelot said to me,' Gawain told Ector. ‘The sword in the stone has given me such a stroke that I would have surrendered the best castle in the world to avoid it. Never have I felt such a blow.'

‘Sir,' Ector said, ‘it seems to me that your quest is done. Mine is only beginning.'

‘You are right. I will seek no more.'