The Death of King Arthur Page 10

  ‘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.

  Deeds of shame

  Lancelot rode along many rough paths and wild ways, always in search of adventures. One morning he came up to a fair castle, when suddenly he heard the bells of a falcon ringing in the air. He looked up and saw the bird flying towards a tall elm tree, where the long tassels about the bird’s feet became entangled with the branches. A lady came running out of the castle. ‘Ah, Lancelot!’ she cried. ‘As you are the flower of all knights, save my falcon. If my husband knows that I have lost her, he will kill me. I am sure of it.’

  ‘What is your lord’s name?’

  ‘He is Sir Phelot, and comes from the court of the King of North Wales.’

  ‘Well, lady, since you know my name and call upon my knighthood, I can do nothing other than help you. Will you help me to take off my armour?’ So he undressed himself, down to his shirt and hose, and then began to climb the tree. He reached the falcon, unravelled its tassels and then came down with the bird. As soon as he had reached the ground, and returned the falcon, he found himself confronting Sir Phelot.

  ‘Ah, Lancelot,’ the knight said. ‘Now I have you at my mercy.’

  Lancelot looked at the lady. ‘Why, madam, did you betray me?’

  ‘Do not blame her,’ Phelot said. ‘She acted on my orders. Now your hour has come to die.’

  ‘Do you not feel shame,’ Lancelot asked him, ‘to attack an unarmed man?’

  ‘Be that as it may, you must fight as best you can.’

  ‘Put my sword over there, at least. Hang it from the bough so that I might have the chance to reach it.’

  ‘Oh no. I know you better than you think, Lancelot. I will grant you no weapon.’

  ‘I must devise my own remedy then.’ He looked around, and saw above him a great branch with no leaves upon it; it was as thick as a man’s neck and, with one leap, Lancelot reached at it and broke it from the tree. Bearing this in his hand he charged Phelot, who slashed at him eagerly. But Lancelot was too strong for Phelot, and knocked him from his horse; then he took Phelot’s sword, and sliced off his head.

  ‘You have killed my husband!’ the woman called out.

  ‘You were willing to betray me with a trick,’ he replied. ‘Now I have repaid both of you.’

  He took up his armour and, mounting his horse, rode away from the castle, thanking God that he had escaped a hard reckoning. After many days’ journey he came to a valley where, to his dismay, he saw a knight pursuing a lady with drawn sword. The knight was about to slay her when the lady, seeing Lancelot, cried out for assistance. So he rode quickly between them. ‘Knight, for shame!’ he shouted. ‘Why do you hunt down a woman?’

  ‘You have no right to come between me and my wife,’ he replied. ‘I will kill her despite your warning.’

  ‘No. You will not. You must fight me first.’

  ‘You do not know what you are doing, Lancelot. This woman has betrayed me.’

  ‘It is not true!’ she cried out. ‘Just because I love and cherish my cousin, Germaine, he believes that there is something between us. He has become jealous. But I have done nothing wrong. I implore you, Lancelot. You are known to be the most honourable knight in the world. Please rescue me. This man is merciless.’

  ‘He will not harm you, lady. I am here now.’

  ‘So be it,’ the man said. ‘I will do as you wish, sir.’

  The three of them went on together, Lancelot riding between man and wife. After a while the knight looked around. ‘Do you see, sir, these men of arms riding towards us?’ Lancelot turned and, at that moment, the man took up his sword and cut off his wife’s head.

  ‘Traitor!’ Lancelot cried. ‘You have shamed me for ever. You have slain a woman in my safe keeping.’ He dismounted, and drew out his sword. But the man came off his horse and fell to his knees, calling on Lancelot for mercy.

  ‘You can have no mercy,’ Lancelot replied. ‘Get up. Prepare yourself to do battle.’

  ‘I will not fight you.’

  ‘Listen. I will take off my armour, and strip down to my shirt. I will carry only a sword.’

  ‘No, sir. You will still win.’

  ‘Then I charge you with this. You will take up the corpse and the head of your wife, and carry them with you everywhere until you come to the court of my lady Guinevere. Do you agree to my terms?’

  ‘I swear that I will obey you, Lancelot.’

  ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Sir Pedivere.’

  ‘You were born in a shameful hour, Sir Pedivere. Go on your way.’

  So Pedivere mounted his horse with his terrible burden, and rode to Arthur’s court at Winchester where he found Queen Guinevere. ‘This is a dreadful deed,’ she told him after listening to his story. ‘You have shamed Lancelot as well as yourself. You must do penance. So I order you to travel with the body of your dead wife to Rome, where you must seek an audience with the pope. Only he can absolve you. You must not rest. If you do sleep, your dead wife must lie beside you.’

  He obeyed the queen in all things, and the old books tell us how he obtained the pope’s pardon and how his wife was buried in Rome. From that time forward he lived as a holy man and became a hermit.

  Now we turn again to Lancelot, who came back to court two days before Whit Sunday. All those he had summoned had arrived in good time. The three knights, who had come as the prisoners of Sir Kay, told the king how Lancelot had overcome them. Sir Gawter and his two comrades told a similar story. Meliot explained to the court how Lancelot had healed his wounds. Never was so much honour shown to any knight. The world rang with praise of Sir Lancelot.

  TRISTRAM AND ISOLDE

  Isolde the Fair

  Once upon a time, during the reign of King Arthur so many centuries ago, there was a king called Melodias; he was lord of the country of Liones, a land now lost beneath the waves off the coast of Cornwall. It was his good fortune to marry Elizabeth – the sister of King Mark of Cornwall – who was acknowledged to be both good and beautiful. When Elizabeth knew herself to be with child, she and her husband were overjoyed.

  Yet there was a lady in that country who also loved King Melodias, but without achieving her desire. So when the king rode out one day to hunt she set before him an enchanted deer, which led him deep into a forest; the king pursued the deer to the door of an old castle, where he was taken prisoner by the sorceress.

  When Elizabeth realized that her husband was missing, she almost went out of her mind. She was already big with child, but insisted on riding with a gentlewoman to seek her husband. When they had travelled far int
o the forest, she fell into labour. By the grace of heaven, and with the help of the gentlewoman, the baby was born safely. But Elizabeth could not survive the ordeal, and the gates of death opened for her. That was her destiny. When she knew that she must die, she addressed the lady: ‘When you see my lord,’ she told her, ‘greet him for me. Let him know what I have suffered for his sake. Tell him that I am sorry to leave this world without seeing him again.’ Then she asked to see the newborn infant. ‘Ah, sweet child,’ she whispered, ‘you have murdered your mother. Let my lord name you Tristram, that means “sorrowful birth”.’ Thereupon the queen gave up her ghost and died. The gentlewoman laid her beneath an ancient oak, and comforted the child as much as she could. Some of the lords of Liones had been riding in search of the queen and, when they found her dead, there was much sorrow. They took the child back to court, where he was wrapped in cloth of gold.

  Read of the early life of Tristram

  It so happened that Merlin, hearing of the plight of Melodias, had by means of magic rescued him from the sorceress. Merlin had travelled through the air and, at the sound of a certain word, the locks of all the dungeons were opened. When the king had returned to Liones, his lords greeted him with joy. But Melodias was distraught at the death of his wife. He buried her in a rich tomb, and christened his son Tristram as she had wished. He lived without a wife for seven years but then, at the end of this time, he married the daughter of the King of Brittany. She bore him several sons, and her resentment of Tristram grew ever greater. Why should the boy inherit the kingdom? So she decided to give him poison. She put the potion in a silver goblet, mixed with some sweet drink, and conveyed it to the chamber where he and her sons played; but one of her own sons took up the cup, and drained its contents. He fell down dead on the spot.

  The queen was mortified by this accident, but she had made up her mind to kill the king’s oldest son. So she put more of the poison in a goblet, and gave it to him. But the king, coming by, reached for the goblet to quench his thirst. He was about to swallow the draught when she ran over and knocked it from his hand. The king marvelled at her actions, but then recalled the death of her son.

  ‘You false traitor!’ he shouted at her. ‘Tell me what is in this cup, or else I will kill you!’ He pulled out his sword, and demanded the truth from her.

  ‘Have mercy on me,’ she said. ‘I will tell you all.’ So she confessed her plot to kill Tristram for the sake of her sons.

  ‘You have spoken,’ the king told her. ‘Now you shall receive justice.’ She was brought before the barons, who condemned her to death by burning. Before the sentence was carried out, however, young Tristram kneeled before his father and asked for a gift.

  ‘Of course,’ the king told him. ‘On my oath.’

  ‘Spare the life of my stepmother.’

  ‘That is not a good request. She would have killed you, and you would be right to hate her. That is why she must die.’

  ‘I forgive her, father. And I beseech you to pardon her. You made me a promise.’

  ‘Very well then. Unbind her. Lead her from the fire, and do as you like with her. I give her to you.’

  So the queen was rescued from death, but Melodias refused to have anything to do with her. He banned her from his bed and his table. But then, sometime later, Tristram brought them together again.

  It was time for Tristram himself to leave court. With a gentleman scholar, Gouvernail, he travelled to the court of France in order to be tutored in the arts of chivalry. He stayed there for seven years, learning the language and culture of that most civilized of courts. He was taught the rules of music, and became an expert harper. He learned how to hunt and to hawk. He even wrote down all the terms of these sports, so that the book of hunting is still called Sir Tristram’s Book. It is a volume used by all gentlemen, and it will be read until the day of doom.

  Tristram returned to his father’s court at the age of eighteen. King Melodias was delighted to find him grown so strong and handsome, and his wife welcomed him back all the more warmly for saving her from the fire. She gave him many gifts, and in truth all the people of the realm celebrated his return.

  There came a time when King Angwish of Ireland demanded tribute from King Mark of Cornwall, complaining that it had not been paid for seven years. The King of Cornwall sent back a defiant message, saying that he would pay no tribute. ‘If Angwish wishes to insist upon this,’ he said, ‘let him send a knight into my realm that will fight for it. I trust that I will find a defender.’

  When the King of Ireland received this message, he grew terrible in his anger. He sent for Sir Marhalt, knight of the Round Table and his brother-in-law. ‘Marhalt,’ he said to him, ‘fair brother, I must ask you to sail to Cornwall and do battle on my behalf.’

  ‘Willingly. I will fight any knight of the Round Table for your sake. It can only increase my fame.’

  So without more ado Marhalt was armed and prepared for the combat to come. He sailed to Cornwall within the week. When King Mark was told that Sir Marhalt had come to the coast, by Tintagel, he was greatly disturbed. Marhalt had a reputation as one of the best knights in the world, and the king doubted that he had a worthy opponent to put against him. Marhalt remained at sea, in sight of the battlements and towers of Tintagel, demanding that the tribute be paid or that battle be joined. Some of the lords of Cornwall counselled the king to send word to the court of King Arthur and ask for the help of Lancelot. But others dismissed the idea, saying that Lancelot would not wish to travel so far.

  Meanwhile the cry had gone through all Cornwall, asking for the aid of a brave knight. Not one had come forward. When word of this reached Tristram he was enraged at the cowardice of the Cornish men. He went to the king and sought his advice. ‘We are bound by treaty to the land of Cornwall, Father,’ he told him. ‘It is our duty to release it from bondage to Ireland. There would be shame upon us all if Sir Marhalt should sail away from here without being challenged.’

  ‘Do you not know,’ the king asked him, ‘that he is considered to be one of the best knights in the world? Who here could match him?’

  ‘Then I will be made knight. If you give me permission, I will ride to the court of King Mark.’

  ‘I am content,’ his father said, ‘if your courage rules you.’

  So Tristram made himself ready and rode to the court. He came into the presence of the king, and there pressed his case. ‘Sire,’ he said, ‘I ask you to enrol me in the order of knighthood. I will do battle on your behalf against Marhalt.’

  The king saw that this boy was well made and powerful. ‘From where have you come?’ he asked him.

  ‘I come from King Melodias. I assure you that I am a gentleman.’

  ‘What is your name and where were you born?’

  ‘I am called Tristram. And I was born in Liones.’

  ‘You are welcome, Tristram. I will make you a knight, as long as you fight Marhalt.’

  ‘That is why I came, sire.’

  So Tristram was made a knight, and a message was sent to Marhalt that a knight was ready to meet him in battle. ‘Very good,’ he said. ‘But tell King Mark that I will fight only with a knight of royal blood. He must be the son of a king or a queen.’

  Sir Tristram was sent for, and told the conditions of this battle. ‘Very well,’ he told the king, ‘you may inform Marhalt that I am of blood as noble as his own. I am the son of King Melodias. My mother was your own sister, sir, who died in the forest on the day of my birth.’

  ‘Jesus save us!’ the king exclaimed. ‘You are more welcome than ever, fair nephew.’

  So Tristram was armed and mounted in earnest, with trappings of gold and silver. When Sir Marhalt was told that his opponent was the son of a king, he was delighted to be matched against him. It was agreed that they would fight upon an island close to Marhalt’s ships, and so Tristram boarded a great vessel with his arms and horse. When King Mark and the court saw him depart, they wept with mingled joy and sorrow at the thought that he migh
t suffer on their behalf.

  So Tristram sailed towards the island where Marhalt was waiting for him; he saw six ships at anchor, and he ordered his men to land at this spot. His companion, Gouvernail, was with him. ‘Where,’ Tristram asked him, ‘is the man I am supposed to fight?’

  ‘He is there. In the shadow of the ships. Just there.’

  ‘Ah. Now I see him. I see the spear in his hand, and his shield upon his shoulder.’

  So, with his own spear and shield, he prepared himself for combat. ‘Go back to King Mark,’ he told Gouvernail, ‘and give him this message. If I am slain in battle, ask him to bury me as he deems best. Tell him this, too. I will never be accused of cowardice. If I die with honour, he must pay no tribute to Ireland. But if I should flee, then let him flay my corpse and deny me Christian burial. Do not return to this island until you have seen the outcome of the battle.’

  When Marhalt saw that his opponent had landed, he rode over to Tristram. ‘Young knight,’ he asked, ‘what are you doing here? I feel sorry for you. Truly. Do you not know that I have fought many noble knights and that I have never fallen? I have defeated the best knights in the world. Take my advice. Return to your ship.’

  ‘You must realize, fair knight, that I will not avoid battle with you. I was made a knight precisely in order to fight you. I am the son of a king. I have sworn an oath to assail you with all my strength, and to save Cornwall from the exaction of tribute. That is my cause. That is why I come against you here. I have never yet proved myself in combat. Now is my chance. If I am able to defeat you, my renown will ring around the world.’

  ‘So you wish to win fame, do you? If you can withstand just three strokes of my sword, you will have done well. Are you ready?’

  So they levelled their spears and rode against each other. They both fell to the ground but, in their struggle, Marhalt had given Tristram a bad wound in his side. They pulled out their swords, put up their shields, and attacked each other like wild men. They gave no quarter but clashed again and again. They fought for the whole of the morning, until the ground beneath them was soaked in their blood. Tristram battled harder than ever, even as the strength of Marhalt ebbed; with a mighty stroke he severed Marhalt’s helmet in two, and his sword broke open his head. The sword was so firmly lodged in his skull that Tristram had to wrench at it three times in order to free it. Marhalt fell to his knees, moaning; when he saw how things stood he threw his sword and shield from him, and fled to his ships. Tristram picked up the man’s weapons, and taunted him as he ran. ‘Ah, sir knight,’ he called out, ‘why are you leaving? You do yourself and your king great shame. I am young and untested. But I would rather be torn to pieces than surrender to you.’ Sir Marhalt made no reply, but went on his way still groaning. ‘Well, sir,’ Tristram continued, ‘I promise that I will keep safe your sword and your shield. I will take them with me when I ride on my adventures.’