King Arthur's Knights
were left alive had returned to the court of King Arthur, there was
great joy among the people, and the king and Queen Gwenevere were
passing glad of the remnant that had come home again.
Especially did the queen make much of Sir Lancelot and of Sir Bors his
cousin, for they were the two most noble and courteous knights of the
Round Table, and none thought of them but as men peerless and beyond
compare.
Sir Mordred, who was the king's nephew, was jealous of the two knights,
and went about privily among such knights as were his familiars, and
spoke sneering words concerning Sir Lancelot and the queen and Sir
Bors. Once Sir Mordred said such words in the hearing of his brother
Sir Gawaine; but that knight so heavily and wrathfully took him to
task, that Sir Mordred knew that Sir Gawaine envied not the two
knights, and could never be brought to think other than friendly
thoughts of them.
Therefore Sir Mordred hated the two knights more than ever. Of a slight
frame was Mordred, but tall, with dark hair, sallow face, and deep-set
grey eyes beside a thin long nose. Few loved him, for he was never
cheery nor very friendly, and ever seemed to sneer with his thin lips
and his cold wolfish eyes.
In a little while strange dark rumours began to go about the court, and
it was whispered that so proud had Sir Lancelot become of his fame and
prowess, that he harboured evil thoughts against the king, and that he
aimed to make a kingdom for himself out of the countries that lay about
his own lands of Joyous Gard in the northern marches.
Then fresh rumours went about, and these were the most evil of all. It
was said that he sought to slay the king, and wished to make Gwenevere
his own queen, and with her he would rule over all Britain.
First, men laughed and passed the rumours with a shrug and a gesture of
scorn; but when they were repeated again and again, some began half to
believe them. Many said that there must be some truth therein, for Sir
Lancelot was ever wending his way to the north country, and fought
there many battles and overcame many knights.
But others said this was because many ladies and damsels, who had lost
lands and homes and been evilly oppressed by the warring barons in
those parts, had heard of his great fame for knightly deeds and noble
manners, and came beseeching him to be their champion against those who
had robbed them.
Others said that it was but natural that when he was at the court he
should speak much to the queen, for he had from the first vowed himself
to be her knight, and many deeds of daring and prowess had he done for
her.
Yet others there were who believed that what rumour said might be true;
and others, who were good and noble knights, sorrowed to think that
such evil thoughts should be spread about by some treacherous tongues.
When men came to ask who had set these evil tongues to wag, it was
always found that a certain mean knight, named Sir Pinel, had first
spoken wrong of Lancelot and Sir Bors and the queen. And men noticed
that it was not long before the queen began to look coldly at Sir
Pinel, and then they knew that his rumours had reached her ears.
'What profit doth Sir Pinel think to gain from those false tales of
her?' said Sir Brastias one day, as he and Sir Gareth came from the
hawking together. 'For none ever reckoned him as a knight of any merit,
and all good men will now think less of him.'
'I fear me,' said Sir Gareth, 'that there is more beneath it all than
we wot of. Sir Pinel is a bosom friend of Sir Mordred's. Often have I
seen their heads together in places apart. And though he is my brother,
Sir Mordred is one I cannot love.'
'What fear you, Gareth?' asked Sir Brastias.
'I fear naught that he may do,' said Gareth, 'but I think he hates Sir
Lancelot and he hates Gawaine also, the chief of our party, because he
hath roundly told Mordred that he is a traitor, and that he will not be
drawn from his firm friendship with Sir Lancelot and his kinsmen. I
think Sir Mordred would do much to cause some ill to Gawaine or Sir
Lancelot, so long as his own evil body was not hurt.'
'Sad it is,' said Brastias full gloomily, 'to think a man of such great
kin should harbour hatred and murder against the chief of his kin. And
that such should be, methinks, betokens that evil is about to fall upon
our famous brotherhood of the Round Table, and on this dear land of
Britain.'
Now it befell that the poor queen had heard, through her maidens, of
the rumours concerning herself and Sir Lancelot, and, taking counsel of
no one, she bethought how she could prove to the remnant of the Round
Table that she was free of any plots against the king or the fair
kingdom of Britain.
She resolved that she would invite the knights to a privy dinner, and
when they had eaten she would throw herself upon their knightly pity
and honour, telling them how the evil rumours wronged and hurt her
bitterly. And she doubted not that thus their manly sympathy and
worship of her, their queen, would, by her words, cast out the evil
effects of the slanderous tales.
Therefore, at that dinner, she had Sir Gawaine and his brethren, that
is to say, Sir Gareth, Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris and Sir Mordred. Also
there were the kin of Sir Lancelot, to wit, Sir Bors, Sir Blamore, Sir
Bleobaris, Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Lionel. But Sir Lancelot had
gone into the Scottish marches, to do battle with a notable robber and
oppressor there. There were other knights, making in all the number of
twenty-four. And these were all the remnant of the one hundred and
fifty that had gone forth in the Quest of the Sangreal.
Among the guests were Sir Pinel and his cousin, Sir Mador.
Now Sir Gawaine had a custom of eating apples which he used daily at
dinner and at supper. He loved all manner of fruit, and in especial a
certain brown or russet apple, which was called Afal Coch. Every one
knew of this fondness of Sir Gawaine's, and whoever dined or feasted
him took care to provide such apples for his pleasure.
The queen had known this, and among the fruit for the table she had
ordered such apples to be placed.
Now Sir Mordred, as Sir Gareth had suspected, hated Sir Gawaine with a
deep hatred, and therefore he had, by crafty dealing, taken all the
russet apples from the dish except one, and into this he had thrust a
deadly poison. He guessed that, as every one knew of Sir Gawaine's
fondness for that sort of fruit, no one would take it, but would leave
it for Sir Gawaine, who would eat it and die thereof.
When the feast was near an end, and men laughed and jested together,
the dish of fruit was handed round, and Sir Pinel, the mean knight,
noticed that there was but one of the apples which Sir Gawaine loved;
and to spite that knight, whom he hated, he took that apple, ere the
dish went to Sir Gawaine.
Sir Mordred saw him take it, yet would not cry out to warn his
fellow-traitor, for this would have revealed himself. He saw Sir
Pinel's teeth sink into the brown apple, and Sir Pinel's sneering look
as he glanced across at Sir Gawaine, who was searching vainly in the
dish for his favourite fruit.
Then Sir Mordred saw Sir Pinel's face go red, and then deadly white.
And as the poison gripped him, Sir Pinel rose shrieking from the table,
crying out that some enemy had poisoned him.
Then he sank writhing to the ground, shrieking and moaning, clutching
at the ground and at the legs of the chairs. Suddenly, with a great
groan, he lay still and was dead.
Every knight leaped from the table, ashamed, full of rage and fear,
nigh out of their wits, but dumb. They looked at each other and then at
the dead Sir Pinel, and all their eyes kept from the face of the queen,
where she sat on the high seat, with two of her ladies beside her.
The reason they could not speak was that they knew the queen had heard
of the evil tales which Sir Pinel had spread about her, and that she
must have hated him bitterly. And she had made this feast, and had
invited him thereto, and now he was dead at the board, by means of
deadly poison placed in the food which she had set before him.
Then for very shame some began to leave the chamber; and others could
not bear to look upon the queen, who sat with a face that went now
pale, now red. She had seen what happened, and who it was had been
slain, and she had read the suspicion in men's gestures.
Then the voice of Sir Mador rang out, and checked men from going from
the room, and drew all eyes to where he stood, a tall and burly man,
red and angry of face, and fierce of eyes.
'Look!' he cried, and held between his fingers and high above his head
the apple which Sir Pinel had bitten, 'this is the thing whereof my
kinsman, Sir Pinel, hath lost his life. The matter shall not end here,
for I have lost a noble knight of my blood, and I will be revenged to
the uttermost.'
Then, turning, he savagely looked at the queen, and with fierce rolling
eyes he roared out:
'Thou art the murderess! Thou--the queen! Hear me, knights and
chieftains. I charge the queen with the murder of my kinsman, Sir
Pinel, and justice upon her will I have.'
Every one in the hall stood still as if they were of stone. None could
gainsay him, none could utter a word on behalf of the queen, for all
had suspicion that she had slain Sir Pinel for his slanders of her.
Then suddenly the queen rose, white and trembling.
'My lords and knights, I did not cause it!' she cried in a broken
voice. 'I am innocent! I know not how it came!'
And therewith she fell down in a swoon.
Sir Mordred's pale face smiled with a bitter sneer. He knew not then
whether what had happened would help his evil plots or no; but he
resolved to say naught, and so went out with all the other silent
knights, whilst the ladies of the queen took her up lamenting, and bore
her to her chamber.
With the noise and the sorrow that was in the court, King Arthur came
and craved to know what was the matter; but none of the silent knights
would speak until he met Sir Gawaine, who replied, and said:
'Sir, the queen did invite us to a privy feast with her. And one of the
knights did eat of the fruit on the table, and he is dead by poison.
Therefore, I dread lest the queen will be shamed for this.'
King Arthur was passing heavy at the hearing of these words, and went
unto the queen to comfort her.
On the next day, when the king sat in hall with his two court judges,
as was his wont daily, to hear any causes or charges which might be
brought before him, all men stood with gloomy faces, and there was no
laughing and jesting talk, as was usual at this time.
Sir Mador came forward and charged the queen of murder, and required
that justice should be done upon her.
The king heard him with a sad face and in silence. Then he said:
'Fair lords and noble knights, heavy is my grief for this, and rather
would I give my life for my queen at this moment than that my tongue
should frame so evil a charge against my dear wife and your noble
queen. But I am here to see that law is done, as justly to the highest
as to the lowest. I doubt not that God will soon clear her of this
seeming evil.'
'I know not how that may be,' said Sir Mador angrily, 'for the evil
deed is clear to any man's eyes.'
'I deem this deed was never done by my queen, nor by her desire,' said
the king sternly, 'but by some traitor that would do her evil and
wishes to see her die. But as I am her judge, I may not be her champion
and fight against you for her fair fame. I doubt not, however, that
some good knight will take this charge upon himself, and put his body
in jeopardy for my queen. For if this be not done, dost thou know what
is the penalty?'
'She must be burnt,' said Mador sullenly. 'But she hath done the deed
and will merit the doom.'