The King Arthur Trilogy (42 page)

The crowd yelled, and the lady he fought for hid her face in her hands. And Sir Bors gave ground a little, and then gave ground again, Priadan pressing after him, until at last he felt the Black Knight beginning to tire, his feet becoming slower, his sword strokes less sure. Then, as though fresh life was suddenly flowing into him, Bors began to press forward in his turn, raining his blows upon the other man, beating him this way and that, until Sir Priadan stumbled like a drunk man, and in the end went over backwards on the trampled turf.

Then Sir Bors bestrode him, and dragged off his helmet and flung it aside, and upswung his sword as though he would have struck Sir Priadan’s head from his shoulders and flung it after his helmet.

When Sir Priadan saw the bright arc of the blade above him, he seemed to grow small and grovelling inside his champion’s armour, and cried out shrilly, ‘Quarter! You cannot kill me, I am crying quarter!’ And then as Sir Bors still stood over him with menacing sword, ‘Oh, for God’s sweet sake have mercy on me and let me live! I will swear never again to wage war on the
lady you serve! I will promise anything you ask, if only you will let me live!’

And Sir Bors lowered his blade, feeling sick, and said, ‘Remember that oath. And now get out of my sight!’

And the Black Knight scrambled to his feet and made off, running low like a beaten cur.

And the elder sister gave a shrill, furious cry, and set her horse at the onlookers who jostled back to let her by; and so dashed through them and away, rowelling her mare’s flanks until the blood on them ran bright as her rose-scarlet gown.

When all those who had come with her and Sir Priadan her lord saw what manner of champion they had followed, they came and swore allegiance to the lady of the tower. And so, with great rejoicing, she and her household rode back the way they had come. And in the Great Chamber of the tower, Sir Bors sat down and ate and drank at last, though still only bread and water; and the lady herself bathed and salved his wounds.

And after he had rested for a day or so, he set out once more on his quest.

And now the story leaves Sir Bors a while, and tells of Sir Gawain.

AFTER SIR GAWAIN
of Orkney left his comrades of the Grail Quest, he wandered from Pentecost until St Magdalen’s Day, which is late into July, without ever meeting with any adventure worth the setting down, and it was the same with all his fellows, with whom he crossed paths from time to time. And this he found most odd, for he had expected the Quest for the Holy Grail to provide more strange and marvellous adventures than any quest on which he had ridden before.

Then one day he met with Sir Lancelot’s brother, Sir Ector of the Marsh; and that was a fine meeting for both of them, for they were old friends; and gladly they shouted each other’s name and beat each other on the shoulders. And when they had done with their greetings, Sir Gawain asked Sir Ector how it went with him.

‘Well enough, in body,’ said Sir Ector, ‘but I grow weary of riding these forest ways and finding no adventure.’

‘You too?’ cried Sir Gawain. ‘I swear to you that not one adventure worth the name has come my way since we parted beneath the walls of Camelot. Ten knights have I met and fought with at different times, and ten knights have I slain in fair combat; but there is neither strangeness nor adventure in that.’

So they decided that as neither had met with any adventure riding alone, they should ride together for a while, and see if that would change their luck.

And presently, as they rode, Gawain asked his comrade if he had heard any word of Sir Lancelot, his brother.

‘No word,’ said Sir Ector, ‘it is as though he had ridden out of the world of men; and indeed, my heart is uneasy for him.’

‘And Galahad, and Percival, and Bors?’

‘No word of them either. Those four have vanished, leaving neither wind nor wake behind.’

‘God guide them, wherever they be,’ said Sir Gawain.

For a week they rode together, and still met with no adventure. And then towards evening of the seventh day, they came on an ancient chapel. The place was forsaken and half-ruined, and they had hoped for some habitation of living men, where there might be food to be had, for they had not eaten all that day. But the evening was darkening early, with rain in the wind, and
any shelter was better than none. So they dismounted and stood their shields and lances against the outer wall, before unsaddling their horses and turning them loose to graze. Then they went into the chapel, and unbuckling and laying aside their swords, they knelt down before the age-worn altar, to make their evening prayers.

And when their prayers were done, hungry as they were they lay down on the chancel floor to try to sleep.

But sleep they could not, for their empty bellies and the wind and rain outside. And as they lay half-wakeful in the darkest hour of the night, they saw a hand and a forearm clad in a sleeve of flame-red samite enter through the chapel door; and no man or woman whose arm it was but just the arm; and in the hand a tall candle, and hanging down from the wrist, a bridle, plainly and serviceably fashioned. And despite the wind that whistled through the crannies in the ancient walls, the candle burned bright and clear, straight-flamed as a laurel leaf, shedding its light all around.

The vision passed between them, and on up the chancel to the altar; and as suddenly as it had come, was gone again, leaving the chapel to the stormy dark.

And as they strained their eyes to make out what had become of it, they heard a voice, ‘Oh ye, weak in faith and dull in belief, these three things that ye have just now looked upon are the three things that ye lack.
And for this reason ye ride up and down the forest ways and will never attain to the high adventure of the Holy Grail.’

Then the voice was silent. And when the two knights, awe-struck, had listened a while for it to come again, they turned towards each other in the dark. And Sir Gawain said, ‘Did you see what I saw?’

And Sir Ector said, ‘Did you hear what I heard?’

And both had seen, and both had heard, but neither could make any guess as to the meaning of the thing.

So they passed the rest of the night with little sleep; and in the morning when the storm had passed, saddled up and rode on, determined to seek a hermitage or an abbey where there might be some wise and holy man who could rede them the riddle.

But before ever they found such a place and such a man, they came out into a rich and open valley, and saw at a little distance a knight in full armour; but the sun was behind him, still low, and everything of a trembling dazzle after the night’s rain, so that the device on his shield was dark to them.

As soon as he saw them, he shouted, ‘Joust!’ in challenge, and turned his horse in their direction.

‘Give me leave to take him first!’ said Sir Ector.

But Sir Gawain was already galloping to meet his challenger. The clash of their meeting sent the birds bursting up from the woodshore, crying and calling in
alarm; and both knights were lifted clean out of their saddles by the other’s lance. But while Sir Gawain had taken no more harm than a dint to his shield, the other knight was speared right through the body, and the shaft snapped off as he fell, so that he lay transfixed, too sorely wounded to move.

Sir Gawain was on his feet before a man’s heart might beat twice, and drawing his sword, called to the other to get up and fight if he would not lie there and be slain.

But the other answered, choking, ‘Alas, Sir Gawain, you have slain me already.’

And when, with Sir Ector’s help, Sir Gawain had unlaced and taken off the helm of the fallen man, he saw the white agonised face of Sir Owain the Bastard, who he had often jousted with in friendship at Camelot.

‘Now curse the sun that flashed off your shields and hid the blazon,’ said Sir Owain. And then, ‘Here is an end, for me, of the Quest of the Holy Grail. Therefore take me to the abbey near here, that I may die among holy men and have Christian burial.’

‘There is no abbey in these parts, that I know of,’ said Sir Gawain; and the words strangled in his throat for the grief and horror that was upon him.

‘Nay, but I passed by such a place, further down the valley,’ said Sir Owain. ‘Get me upon your horse, and I will guide you to it.’

So Sir Gawain and Sir Ector lifted him up to the saddle, coughing blood when they moved him, and Sir Gawain mounted behind him to hold him from falling, while Sir Ector followed, leading Sir Owain’s horse beside his own. And so, slowly and sorrowfully, they rode on until they came to the abbey. And there the monks gave them kind greeting, and Sir Owain was laid on the bed in the guest chamber.

And when he had prayed and made ready, he said with his last strength, ‘Now I am where I would be. When you go back to court, give my greeting to all of our brotherhood who you find there – though indeed it is in my heart that many will not return from this Quest – and bid them to remember me in their prayers. Now pull the lance-head from me, for I can bear this pain no longer.’

So Sir Gawain, weeping, took hold of the broken lance-head, and quickly and strongly pulled it out from between his friend’s ribs. And Sir Owain gave a groan and stretched himself all along, and the life went from him.

The monks brought a cloth of fine silk in which to wrap his body, and the funeral rites were performed, and he was buried in the abbey church.

Then Gawain and Ector would have ridden forward once more, though indeed the heart was gone out of them. But at the last moment, Sir Gawain bethought
him of the vision that they had had in the deserted chapel, and that had been for the time driven from their minds. So he asked that they might speak with the father abbot. And while their horses waited in the outer courtyard, they stood before him in his chamber, and told him of what they had seen and heard, and asked him for the meaning.

The abbot was very old; and when Sir Gawain had done speaking, he sat for a long while with his chin sunk on his breast, so that they thought he dozed, and Sir Gawain began to fidget with his feet until the spurs jingled faintly on his heels. At last the father abbot looked up, and they saw that indeed he had not been dozing. ‘It is very simple. You saw a hand with a candle and a bridle, and a voice told you that these were the three things lacking in you. The hand is charity, and the vermilion sleeve is the Grace of God, which burns in charity with a constant flame, so that he that has it is filled with the love of Our Lord in Heaven. The bridle stands for self-control, for even as a man governs his horse with a bridle, so must he govern himself. The candle? The candle stands for truth, what else? The truth of Christ. Lacking these three things, as the voice told you, you will not attain to the adventure of the Holy Grail.’

Then Sir Gawain grew very thoughtful, and said, ‘Holy Father, if that is so, then it is useless for us to continue this quest any further.’

The old man bowed his head.

‘So, sir,’ said Ector, heavily, ‘if we take your word for it, it would be as well for us to turn about, and return to Camelot.’

‘That is my advice. You will serve no purpose by going on. No better purpose than you have served already.’ And he gestured towards the little window in the chamber wall, that looked down into the church towards Sir Owain’s grave.

But Sir Gawain and Sir Ector did not turn back, not yet; for Sir Gawain was a stubborn man who did not easily turn back at another’s bidding from any path that he had started out upon. And Sir Ector would not leave his friend to go on alone.

And now the story leaves Sir Gawain, and tells again of Sir Lancelot.

SIR LANCELOT REMAINED
with his holy man for three days; and at the end of that time a squire came riding out of the forest with a raking bay horse, and the helm and sword for which the priest had sent to ask of his brother. So next morning Sir Lancelot laced on the helm and belted the unfamiliar sword at his side, and thanking the priest for his goodness and asking him to pray for him, that he might not again fall into evil doing, he mounted the bay horse and rode on his way.