King Arthur's Knights
drunk wine and jested at the board in Camelot, rushed at him with
shrewd strokes to slay him.
As the fight went on, the lust of battle grew in Sir Lancelot's heart,
and manfully he fought, and with all his strength and skill he lay
about him. By the time of evensong his party stood very well, and the
king's side seemed dispirited and as if they would avoid the fierce
rushes with which Sir Lancelot's knights attacked them.
Staying his horse, Sir Lancelot looked over the field, and sorrowed to
see how many dead there were--dead of whom many may have been slain by
their own kindred. He saw how the horses of his knights were splashed
with the blood that lay in pools here and there, and grief was heavy
upon him.
Sir Palom, a very valiant knight, came up to him.
'See, lord,' he cried, 'how our foes flinch from the fierce hurtling of
our knights. They are dispirited by the wounding of Sir Gawaine. Sir
Kay is also wounded, and Sir Torre is slain. Now, if ye will take my
advice, this day should cease this war once for all. Do ye gather all
your forces, lord, and I think with one great dash together ye should
scatter their wavering knights, and this field would be won.'
'Alas!' said Sir Lancelot, 'I would not have it so. It cuts me to my
heart to war as I do against my lord Arthur, and to trample him and his
people in the mire of defeat--nay, I should suffer remorse till my last
day.'
'My lord,' said Sir Palom, 'I think ye are unwise. Ye spare them thus
to come again against ye. They will give ye no thanks, and if they
could get you and yours at so great a disadvantage, wit you well they
would not spare you.'
But Sir Lancelot would not be moved, and in pity he ordered the
trumpeters to sound the retreat. King Arthur did likewise, and each
party retired in the twilight from the field, where the wounded lay
groaning till death or succour came; and the dead lay still and pale,
until the kindly earth was thrown over them.
Some weeks passed in which the armies did not meet; for the host of
King Arthur was not now so proud as they had been, seeing that they had
lost many good knights; and Sir Lancelot would not of his own will
sally out from his castle to fall upon the king.
But ever Sir Gawaine tried to inflame the mind of King Arthur and his
kinsmen against Sir Lancelot, and he advised them to join battle with
their enemy. Moreover, from the lands of his kingdom of Lothian, of
which Sir Gawaine was now king in the place of his dead father, King
Lot, a great body of young knights and men-at-arms came; and the king's
party began to recover their courage.
Many began daily to ride to the walls of Joyous Gard, and by insult and
evil names endeavoured to tempt forth the men of Sir Lancelot. Soon the
young knights clamoured to King Arthur and Sir Gawaine to permit them
to attack the walls, and reluctantly the king consented to call his
council for next day to devise some means of breaking down the castle.
Headstrong was the counsel given by the young knights at that meeting,
and greatly did King Arthur sorrow to feel that, for love of his
nephew, Sir Gawaine, he would be compelled to yield to their wild
demands for further battle.
Suddenly the door of the hall where sate the council was opened, and
the porter of the gate appeared and approached the king.
'My lord,' he said, 'the holy Bishop of London and King Geraint of
Devon crave audience of you.'
Some of the fierce young knights scowled at the names and uttered cries
of disgust.
The king's face brightened, and before any could advise him against his
will, he said:
'Bid them enter instantly.'
'The meddling priest and the petty king that knoweth not his mind!'
sneered Sir Gawaine, looking fiercely about the room. 'I pray thee,
uncle,' he said to the king, 'listen not to their womanish persuasions,
if thou lovest me.'
King Arthur did not answer, but looked towards the door impatiently.
Through this there came first three priests and three armed men, and
behind them stepped an old and reverend man, the hair beside his
tonsure white as driven snow, and falling over his white robe edged
with red, that showed his rank as bishop. Then, towering above him, a
noble knightly figure, came Geraint of Devon, grown nobler still since
those noble days when he had proved himself to be a strong leader
indeed, while men had thought him soft and foolish.
All rose to their feet in reverence to the bishop, and fondly did King
Arthur welcome Geraint, for this wise knight had from the first opposed
Sir Gawaine in this war, and had refused to fight against Sir Lancelot
and the queen, though he abated not his service to the king.
Dark was the look which Gawaine darted at Geraint, but quiet yet
fearless was Geraint's answering gaze.
'What ye have to say,' said Gawaine angrily, 'say it quickly and
begone. If ye are still of two minds, there seems no need to speak, and
there is no need to bring a bishop to your aid.'
'Gawaine,' said King Geraint, and his voice was quiet, yet with a ring
of menace in it, 'I think grief hath made you a little mad. Let the
bishop speak, I pray ye. He hath a message for the king.'
'My lord,' said the bishop, 'I come from his Holiness the Pope.'
At these words Sir Gawaine started forward, his hand upon his sword, as
if he would willingly in his madness slay the holy priest.
'And,' went on the bishop, his grave voice and his quiet look not
bating for all the wrathful fire in Sir Gawaine's eyes, 'I bear with me
the bull of his Holiness--see, here it is--by which his Highness doth
charge King Arthur of Britain, as he is a Christian king, to take back
Queen Gwenevere unto his love and worship, and to make peace with Sir
Lancelot.'
The murmurs of the wild young knights rose in a sudden storm, while Sir
Gawaine glared with looks of hatred at King Geraint and the bishop.
'And if ye do not this command,' rang out the voice of the bishop (and
there was sorrow in its tone, and silence sank on all), 'if ye do not,
then will his Holiness excommunicate this land. None of ye here have
seen so terrible a thing as a land laid under the interdict of the Holy
Church, and rarely doth she find her children so stubbornly evil as to
merit it. But the Father of the Church, seeing how this land is torn
and rent by this bitter war between brothers, and fearful lest, while
ye tear at each others' lives, the fierce and evil pagan will gain upon
ye and beat the lives from both of ye, and possess this fair island and
drive Christ and His religion from it utterly--seeing all this, his
Holiness would pronounce the doom if ye are too stiffnecked to obey
him. Then will ye see this land lie as if a curse were upon it. Your
churches will be shut, and the relics of the holy saints will be laid
in ashes, the priests will not give prayers nor the Church its holy
offices; and the dead shall lie uncoffined, for no prayers may be said
over them. Say, then, King Arthur of Britain, what shall be the answer
to the command of his Holiness which here I lay before thee.'
With these words the bishop held a parchment rolled out between his
hands before the eyes of the king. Men craned forward and saw the black
writing on the white skin, and the great seals, or bulls, hanging from
it whereon those who could read saw the device of the Pope of Rome.
'Say, is this thy doing?' cried Sir Gawaine fiercely, looking at King
Geraint. 'Didst thou send this meddling priest to Rome to get this?'
'That did I,' replied Geraint.
'Then now I make this vow,' thundered Sir Gawaine, 'that though thou
hast balked me of my vengeance now, I will mark thee, thou king of two
minds, and be thou sure that erelong I will avenge me of this
treachery, and that upon thy body and in thy blood.'
'I mark thy words, Sir Gawaine,' said Geraint, whose eyes flashed
fiercely, though his voice was calm, 'and I say again thou art mad. I
will tell thee and the king, our lord and master, why I did advise the
holy bishop to go to Rome and get the Pope's command. First, as ye all
know, I did think this war a wicked one beyond all measure, and ever
have I raised my voice against it. And what I foresaw has come to pass.
As the good priest saith, while ye tore at each other's throats here in
the furthest marches of the north, the sly, fierce pagan, learning how
all the land was rent and weakened by this evil war, has crept up in
his longships, he has landed at many solitary places on the coast, and
has spread far and wide throughout the land, burning and slaughtering.
The long files of his captives, our kinsmen, go day by day, even as ye
fight here, brother with brother, down to the black ships, and ye do
naught to save them or avenge them. Already have I, in my office as
Count of the Saxon Shore, battered them back to their ships at Lemanis,
Llongporth and Rutupiae; but here in the north, for all that the old
lion, Uriens of Reged, worn with war and full of age, hath taken the
field against them, here, behind your backs as ye battle, kin with kin,
a great and a stubborn pagan, whom men call Hyring the Land-waster,
hath entered the land and still prevails. Crafty he is and strong, for
he hath made treaties with some of our weaker kin, and their women he
hath taken in marriage for his leaders, and thus in our very midst
there is treachery, hand-in-hand with the brutal invaders. Yet still
you, Gawaine, are so mad, so lost to all care for your nation's weal,
that you would see your people ruined and your land possessed by the
savage boars of Saxons, while ye slake your vengeance for a private
wrong. If still you so would do, I call you traitor, and, by the grace
of God, I will make good my words upon your body, when we have thrust
the pagan from the land and peace is within our borders once again.'
While the thunder of his noble anger still rolled through the wide
hall, King Arthur arose, and men marked the resolution in his eyes.
'I will that there be no more war,' he said, and he looked sternly at
Gawaine. 'Geraint hath spoken the truth, and the truth shall prevail. I
repent me that I have so long forgotten the needs of my kingdom. Do
thou now, good bishop, go to Sir Lancelot, tell him that I will make
peace with him and that I will receive back my queen. And do thou, good
Geraint, fare south again. I thank thee from my heart for what thou
hast done. Would to Heaven that all my knights were as clean-souled and
as single-minded in devotion unto me as thou art. Do thou go and fulfil
thy great office. Watch thou the coasts as hitherto thou hast watched
them; and soon I will follow to aid thee, should the foul and savage
pagans strive again to break into my realm.'
But, after all, Sir Gawaine had his way in part. The bishop took the
king's assurance, sealed with his great seal, whereby he promised Sir
Lancelot that he should come and go safe from murder or sudden onset,
and desiring him to bring the queen to the king at his hall at
Carlisle. But in that parchment was no word of reconciliation with Sir
Lancelot. Sir Gawaine fiercely told the king that the day on which he,
the king, should clasp the hand of Lancelot in friendship, he, Sir
Gawaine, with all his vassals and his men, would leave the kingdom. So
deep and burning was the hatred which Gawaine bore Sir Lancelot that he
even threatened that, if his will was not granted, he would join the
pagans and fight against the king.
So shamed and saddened was the king at these words that, to put an end
to his nephew's rage, he consented to do as he desired. Therefore,
though the bishop strove to persuade the king to make his peace with
Sir Lancelot, Sir Gawaine's will was done, and the bishop went sadly to
Joyous Gard.
He showed his writings to Sir Lancelot and the queen, and both were