The Death of King Arthur (25 page)

‘Be of good cheer,' Lancelot said to him. ‘Take comfort from the fact that we go on a great and noble cause. All men must die, sire, but we will die in glory.'

‘Lancelot, I have loved you all the days of my life. Do you understand why I weep? No Christian king has been lord of so many brave and loyal knights. Now the Round Table will be empty for ever.'

When the queen and the ladies of the court heard the news of their departing, they were distraught. No tongue can tell of their grief. They were losing part of their life. The most sorrowful of them all was Queen Guinevere. ‘I do not understand,' she said, ‘why the king allows them to leave.'

Many of the ladies wished to accompany their lovers on the quest, but they soon learned that it was forbidden. The hermit Nacien entered the hall dressed in robes of penitence. ‘Fair lords,' he said, ‘who have sworn to pursue the Holy Grail, hear this. You must take no female with you on your quest. I warn you plainly that he who does not forsake all sin will not be permitted to see the mysteries of Our Lord Jesus Christ.' This was the reason why the knights left alone.

When the hermit had gone Queen Guinevere came up to Galahad. ‘Am I right in thinking,' she asked him, ‘that Sir Lancelot is your father?' He did not answer. ‘As God is my witness,' she told him, ‘there is no shame in admitting it. Lancelot is the best knight in the world, and has royal blood. You also resemble him very closely.'

‘Why do you ask me,' he said, ‘if you already know it to be true? I will reveal my parentage at the right time.'

They all went to rest, but King Arthur could not sleep that night for sorrow at their departure. He rose at dawn, and met Gawain and Lancelot on their way to mass.

‘Ah, Gawain, Gawain!' he cried. ‘You have betrayed me. My court will never be assembled again. But I tell you one thing. You will never be as sorry for me as I am for you.' With that, he wept and turned to Lancelot. ‘Courteous knight, my own Lancelot, I need your counsel. I wish that this quest could end now.'

‘It may not be, sire,' Sir Lancelot replied. ‘You saw yesterday how many worthy knights swore an oath.'

‘I saw it. No joy will ever alleviate my woe.'

Then the king and queen went into the minster, followed by the knights of the Round Table, who wore their full armour except for their shields and helmets. After the service was over the king asked Lancelot how many men were ready to go on the quest. ‘One hundred and fifty, sire. All of our fellowship.'

Guinevere went to her chamber, where she grieved alone. But when Lancelot could not see the queen, he went straight to the same chamber. ‘Ah, Lancelot!' she cried. ‘You have betrayed me. You have sentenced me to death by your absence.'

‘Do not be distressed, good lady. I will return to you as soon as I can.'

‘I curse the day I first saw you.' Then she recovered herself. ‘May Christ, who saved the world by His death on the cross, be your protector and your guardian. Go safely.'

Sir Lancelot left her and, with his company of knights, he rode through the broad street of Camelot. Rich and poor wept alike. The king turned away, and could not speak.

The knights rode out of Camelot together, and continued on their way until they came to a castle called Vagon. The lord of the castle, also known as Vagon, opened the gates and welcomed them all. They agreed, while dining there, that in the morning they would go their separate ways. When the time came to depart, they wept. But each knight took the way he thought best.

The Quest Begins

Galahad rode out of Vagon, still without a shield, and after four days he came to an abbey made of shining white marble. He was greeted with great reverence, and led to a quiet chamber. When he went down to supper, he saw that he was in the company of two knights of the Round Table, namely Sir Bagdemagus and Sir Uwain. They all greeted each other very warmly.

‘Sirs,' Galahad asked them, ‘what has brought you here?'

‘Well,' Bagdemagus replied, ‘we have been told that in this abbey is to be found a magic shield. It is said that no knight can carry this shield without dying or being maimed for ever. Within three days, he is overwhelmed by misfortune. I am going to test it. I am going to ride out with it tomorrow.'

‘In the name of God!' Galahad exclaimed.

‘If I fail,' Bagdemagus went on, ‘I urge you to take on the shield. I am sure you will prove stronger than its spell.'

‘Willingly,' Galahad replied. ‘As you may know, I have no shield at present.'

In the morning they rose and heard mass. Sir Bagdemagus then asked the monks where the shield was. One of them led him to a small alcove behind the altar where it was kept; it was snow-white, with a red cross. ‘Sir,' the monk said, ‘this shield should be hung only around the neck of the noblest knight in the world. I counsel you, therefore, to be careful.'

‘Well,' Bagdemagus said, ‘I do not believe that I am the best knight in the world. Nevertheless I will attempt to bear it.' He turned to Galahad. ‘Will you stay until you hear how I have done?'

‘Of course. I await your return with interest.'

Bagdemagus set off with a squire who was told to bring news of the shield back to Galahad. The two men rode for a mile or so until they came to a valley with a hermitage on its southern slope. They saw a knight, dressed in white armour and riding a white horse, come furiously towards them with a spear ready in his hand. Sir Bagdemagus prepared himself for the contest, but the white knight was too strong for him. Bagdemagus was wounded in the right shoulder, where his shield did not cover him, and was thrown from his horse. The white knight then walked over to him. ‘You have committed a great folly,' he said. ‘This shield should be carried by the noblest knight in the world. No one else.' He turned to the squire. ‘Take this shield to the good knight Galahad, whom you left in the abbey. Greet him from me.'

‘Sir, will you give me your name?'

‘That is not for you to know.'

‘But, sir, tell me this then. Why is this shield so fatal to all who bear it?'

‘I can give you no answer. But I will say this to you. It belongs to Galahad alone.'

The squire leaned over Bagdemagus and asked him if he was badly wounded. ‘God help me. I am so grievously wounded that I will barely escape death.' The squire helped him on to his horse, and led him to the abbey. He was in great pain, and was taken down from the saddle very slowly. He was brought to bed, and lay there for many months. The old books tell us that he scarcely escaped with his life.

After the squire returned he told Galahad that an unknown knight had asked that the shield be given to him. ‘Sir,' he said, ‘he told me that great deeds and adventures await you.'

‘Thanks be to God,' Galahad replied. He mounted his horse and hung the shield around his neck. Sir Uwain asked if he might accompany him. ‘That may not be,' Galahad said. ‘I must go on alone, save for this squire here.'

Within a mile or two they encountered the white knight, waiting as before in the valley of the hermitage. The two knights greeted each other very courteously. ‘Sir,' Galahad said, ‘I am sure that this shield has seen many marvels.'

‘Yes indeed,' the white knight replied. ‘This is what happened. Thirty-two years after the death of Lord Jesus, Our Saviour, Joseph of Arimathea – he who took down the body of Our Lord from the cross – left Jerusalem with a band of his kinsmen. They travelled to the island of Sarras where the king, Evelake, was about to make war upon his cousin. The warriors were both Saracens.

‘Joseph went to Evelake and told him that he would be killed unless he converted to the true faith. He told him the doctrine of the Holy Trinity, and all the other mysteries of the faith, with such conviction and piety that Evelake became eager to be baptized. At that time a shield was made for the king, bearing the image of the Saviour upon the cross. He carried it into battle, covered with a cloth, but at a time of his own choosing he removed the cloth. When his enemies saw the body on the cross, they were thrown into confusion. So he had the better of the battle.

‘It so happened that one of Evelake's soldiers had lost his hand in the fighting. He was carrying it with him, crying out for help. Joseph called him over, and asked him to place the severed hand against the image of the cross. All at once he was healed. There followed another marvel. The cross disappeared from the shield, and no one knew where it could have gone.

‘It was time now for Joseph to leave the island of Sarras, but the king declared that he would accompany him – no matter where he chose to go. So they travelled on together until they arrived in this land. It was known at the time as Great Britain. One of the lords of this land, a pagan, was so hostile to the true faith that he flung Joseph into prison. Yet a worthy man, by the name of Mondrames, heard of Joseph's fate; he came with a great army across the seas and rescued him. Whereupon the people of Britain asked to be baptized.

‘But Joseph was now growing old and weak. He lay on his deathbed and Evelake, weeping, kneeled down beside him. “I left my country for love of you,” he said. “If you are about to depart from this world, will you leave me some token or sign by which I will remember you?”

‘Joseph looked upon him. “Bring me your shield,” he said. “The shield I gave you to carry in battle.”

‘The king brought it to him. In his weakness, Joseph had a nosebleed that could not be staunched. So he smeared his finger in the blood, and with it made the sign of the cross upon the shield. “I do this as a token of my love for you,” he said. “Whenever you see this shield, you will think of me. The blood will always be as fresh as it is now, and no man will carry this shield without misfortune coming to him. The first knight who will bear it with honour will be Sir Galahad. He will be the last of my lineage, and he will perform many marvellous deeds.”

‘Evelake then asked him where he should leave the shield. “After your death,” Joseph told him, “a hermit will take it to a secret place. It will then be given to Sir Galahad fifteen days after he has been made a knight.” All this, sir, has now been accomplished according to prophecy.'

Saying that, the knight disappeared.

When the squire heard this tale he dismounted and kneeled at Galahad's feet. ‘I pray you, sir, to let me accompany you until you make me a knight.'

‘If I were to have a companion, I would certainly choose you.'

‘Will you make me a knight now, sir? I will be worthy of the honour, I promise you.'

Galahad agreed to dub him as a knight, and both of them returned to the white abbey, where they were greeted with much good cheer and laughter. One of the monks then led Galahad to a tomb in the churchyard. ‘There comes from this grave so much noise of grief and torment,' the monk told him, ‘that we believe a fiend dwells within it.' Galahad walked towards it, fully armed except for his helmet. ‘Now,' the monk said, ‘will you lift the lid of this tomb?'

There came a voice from the tomb, as if from the depths of hell itself. ‘Galahad, Galahad, servant of Christ, do not come near me.'

But the knight was not afraid. He crossed himself, and then heaved up the stone. From the grave there arose a stinking smoke. There leaped out the fiend in the figure of a man, but the foulest that he had ever seen. Galahad crossed himself again.

‘Galahad, Galahad,' the fiend said, ‘I have no power to hurt you. I see you surrounded by angels.' He fled, shrieking.

Galahad then looked into the tomb, and saw there the body of a knight with a sword lying by his side. ‘We must remove this body,' he told the monk. ‘This man was a heretic and should not lie in holy ground.'

They returned to the abbey, where Galahad took his armour. Then he was approached by another monk. ‘Shall I tell you the meaning of the body you saw? It is a token of the wicked world. There was once such wretchedness that father hated son, and son hated father. It was a world of woe. That was one of the reasons why Our Saviour came upon the earth, and was born of a virgin.'

‘I believe you,' Galahad replied. ‘We are blessed.'

He stayed that night in the abbey, and on the following morning he made his squire a knight. ‘Tell me this,' he said. ‘What is your name?'

‘I am Melias de Lile. Son of the King of Denmark.'

‘Since you come from a race of kings, you will prove yourself to be a noble knight. You will be the mirror of chivalry.'

‘That is my dearest wish,' the squire replied. ‘But, sir, since you have made me a knight you must according to custom grant me one wish.'

‘If it be reasonable.'

‘I ask you, sir, to allow me to ride with you in quest of the Holy Grail unless and until some adventure parts us.'

‘I grant it willingly.'

Sir Melias was given armour, sword and shield. Then he and Galahad rode out together, but they journeyed for a week without finding an adventure. Then, one morning, as they were leaving an abbey where they had rested, they came to a cross that stood at the parting of two roads. On the cross there was a parchment, inscribed with the following words: ALL OF YOU KNIGHTS, WHO RIDE OUT FOR ADVENTURES, CONSIDER YOUR CHOICE. THE ROAD ON THE RIGHT CAN BE RIDDEN ONLY BY GOOD AND WORTHY MEN. OTHERWISE YOU WILL COME TO GRIEF. THE ROAD ON THE LEFT IS DANGEROUS AND DEADLY. ALL WHO RIDE IT WILL SOON BE SORELY TRIED.

‘Sir,' Melias said, ‘let me take the left road. I hope then to prove my strength.'

‘It would be better if I went that way,' Galahad replied.