The King Arthur Trilogy (5 page)

Merlin could have warned him, but for once Merlin was not at his side but had gone north on a visit to his old master who had reared and trained him. Cabal, Arthur’s favourite hunting dog, growled and raised the
hackles on his neck when she came near, but Arthur paid no heed, only thrust him back with his heel and ordered him from the Great Hall lest he frighten their guest.

That evening they made merry in the Great Hall in honour of the lady’s coming, and when supper was over, the harpers made their music that was as sweet as the music of the Hollow Hills. But the night was heavy, full of thunder in the air, and the torches in their wall-sconces burned tall and unwavering; and by and by, the lady said, ‘My Lord King, the night is overheavy within doors, and there is no air to breathe; is there a garden in this castle?’

‘There is a garden behind the keep,’ Arthur said, ‘it will be cooler there.’

‘Then by your leave, I and my maidens will walk alone there in the dusk.’

And so the lady and her maidens went out to the garden; and in the Great Hall the harpers played on, and the pages set out the boards for chess, and cleared the floor for the games that the young knights and the squires played after supper.

But in a while one of the pages came to Arthur and whispered, ‘Sir, the lady asks that you go to her in the garden, for she bears a message for you which she says cannot be spoken here in the crowded Hall.’

So Arthur got up and went quietly from the Hall, and down the narrow stairway in the wall and through the
postern door that gave on to the castle garden. The air was like warm milk, and the scent of honeysuckle and sweet briar hung heavy between the high walls, and the full moon was pale and blurred in the hazy sky. And in the entrance to the vine-trained arbour at the far end, the lady waited for him, quite alone, for all her maidens it seemed were gone.

Queen Margawse was twice as old as he was; she had borne four sons to the King of Orkney, and the eldest of them, Gawain, was not much younger than Arthur himself; but he neither knew nor cared for that. Something to do with another garden was stirring at the back of his heart, waking an old longing and loneliness in him. And she was very beautiful. He had seen how beautiful in the light of the Hall torches, and he saw it still more now in the blurred lily-light of the moon; beautiful with a warm richness like ripe fruit, and the scent of musk and rose-oil came from the folds of her gown and her unbraided hair.

Her hands were held out to him; and Arthur took them, and never remembered to ask her what was the message she brought, that could not be told in the crowded Hall.

Why she did it, there can never be any knowing; for she knew, though he did not, what kin they were to each other (but for herself, she had never cared for any law save the
law of her own will). Maybe she thought to have a son to one day claim the High Kingship of Britain. Maybe it was just revenge; the revenge of the Dark People, the Old Ones, whose blood ran strong in her, upon the Lords of Bronze and Iron, and the People of Rome, who had dispossessed them. Maybe it was because she had never loved King Lot and dreaded growing old, and Arthur was young and good to look upon. Maybe she thought it might help her in her spying. Maybe it was all these things mingled together …

Nine months later, far away in the North, Queen Margawse bore a fifth son, and his father was not Lot of Orkney, but Arthur the High King. And she sent word to Arthur that she had borne him a son and would name him Mordred, and that one day she would send him south to be a knight of his father’s court.

And she told him who she was.

Then Arthur knew that he had done one of the forbidden things. He had done it all unknowing, but he had done it, and no tears or prayers or penance could undo it again. He had let loose his own doom, and in the end, as night gives place to day and day turns to night again, his doom would return upon him. He spent three wakeful nights wrestling with certain horrors within himself. Then, seeing that he had a life to lead and a kingdom to rule as best he might, meanwhile, he put the thing from him until the appointed time the web
of things should bring it back again. And he called for horses and hounds, and rode hunting. And if, during the day’s hunting, it seemed to the High King that he, and not the fleeing red deer, was the quarry, no one knew.

Only those who were closest to him knew that suddenly the last of his boyhood was gone from the High King.

But all that was still nine months in the future, and the lady had scarcely gone her way northward from Caerleon, when one day a young squire rode into the castle courtyard, leading a second horse, across whose back his knight lay newly slain. And dropping wearily from the saddle, he cried out, ‘Vengeance, my Lord King! Christian burial for my master, as good a knight as ever set lance in rest, and vengeance upon his slayer!’

‘The one you shall have without question,’ said Arthur. ‘The other if it be deserved. Who is the slayer?’

‘King Pellinore,’ said the squire. ‘Not many leagues from here he has set up his pavilion close to a well beside the high road; and there he challenges all comers to joust with him; and there he slew my master. Pray you let one of your knights ride out to take up the challenge and avenge my master’s death!’

Now there was a squire at court called Gryflet, of about the same age as Arthur himself; and when he heard this he came and knelt before the King, and
begged to be given his knighthood, that he might take the challenge upon himself.

And Arthur looked down at him, and knew that he had been a good squire, and would be a good knight also if he lived. But, ‘You are over young to be taking up such a challenge,’ he said, ‘not yet come to your full strength, while King Pellinore of Wales is one of the strongest and most skilful fighters of any in this world.’

‘Yet pray you give me my knighthood,’ said the boy. ‘It was I who spoke up first for the taking of this challenge.’

And Arthur sighed, and gave him the light blow between neck and shoulder that made him a knight. ‘And now, Sir Gryflet, since I have given you what you ask for, I claim something of you in exchange.’

‘Anything that is mine to give.’

‘A promise,’ said Arthur. ‘Promise me that when you have ridden one course against King Pellinore, whether you be still in the saddle or unhorsed and on foot, you will let the thing rest there, and return to me without more ado.’

‘That I promise,’ said the young knight. And since he had as yet no squire of his own, he fetched his horse and spear for himself; and hitched his shield on his shoulder and was away with one stirrup still flying.

He followed the summer-dry road in a cloud of his own dust, out of the sunlight into the forest shade, until
he came to the well beside the way. And there he saw a rich pavilion and close by a fine horse ready saddled and bridled; and hanging from the lowest branch of an oak tree, a shield blazoned with many colours and beside it a great spear. Reining up and standing in his stirrups he hammered on the shield with the butt of his own spear as was the custom when taking up such a challenge, until the forest rang and the splendid shield came crashing to the ground.

Then King Pellinore, fully armed, came out from his pavilion, and asked, as was the proper custom also, ‘Fair knight, why smote you down my shield?’

‘For that I would joust with you,’ said Sir Gryflet.

Then King Pellinore left the proper custom, and said, ‘It were better you do not, for you are but young, and as I judge a newly made knight, and have not yet come to your full strength to match with mine.’

‘For all that, I would still joust with you,’ said Gryflet.

‘It is by no wish of mine. But if you take up my challenge I cannot refuse. Yet if we are to fight, tell me first whose knight you are.’

‘I am King Arthur’s knight,’ said the boy.

And King Pellinore took his spear and shield and mounted his horse, and they drew apart the proper distance, and turning, set their spears in rest and rode full tilt upon each other.

Gryflet took King Pellinore in mid-shield, and shattered it to pieces; but Pellinore’s point went clean through Gryflet’s shield and deep into his left flank and there broke off short, the point lodging in his body, and horse and rider were brought crashing down.

Then Pellinore dismounted, and bending over the wounded knight unloosed his helm to give him air. ‘This is a boy with a lion’s heart,’ he said, ‘and if he lives, shall be among the best of knights.’ And with the spearhead still in his flank, he helped him into the saddle, and turned the horse’s head towards Caerleon, and set it to find its own way home.

Arthur was crossing the outer courtyard with a falcon on his fist when the horse and his sore-wounded rider returned. ‘I rode but the one course as you bade me,’ said Sir Gryflet, and fell out of the saddle at the King’s feet.

Then the King was deeply angry, not only with King Pellinore, but with himself, that he had listened to the boy, and let him go upon a man’s business (forgetting that he himself was no older) and when he had seen Gryflet carried away to be tended, he called for his squires to arm him and bring his best warhorse, and taking no companion, though many begged to ride with him, he set off along the track into the forest, to take up the challenge himself, and avenge the hurt to his youngest knight. And he rode with his vizor closed and
the cover still upon his shield that no man might know him by the blood-red dragon upon it.

By and by he came to the rich pavilion beside the well. A new shield hung from the branch of the oak tree, and he beat upon it in a fury until all the forest rang with the clamour of it like a flawed bell; and out from the pavilion came the knight he knew must be King Pellinore.

‘Fair knight,’ said Pellinore, ‘why do you beat upon my shield?’

‘Sir Knight,’ returned Arthur, ‘why do you bide here, letting no man to pass this way unless he joust with you?’

‘It is my custom,’ said Pellinore. ‘If any man would make me change it, let him try.’

‘I am come to make you change it,’ said Arthur.

‘And I stand here to defend my custom,’ said King Pellinore quiet in his helmet; and took up his new shield and his spear and mounted his horse which a squire had brought to him. And they rode apart the proper distance, then turned and spurred their mounts to full gallop, and so came thundering to meet each other. And each took the other in the centre of the shield, and their spears were splintered all to pieces.

Then Arthur made to draw his sword, but King Pellinore said, ‘It is not yet time for swords. Let us try another course with spears.’

‘I would be willing enough,’ said Arthur, ‘if I had another spear.’

King Pellinore flicked a finger at his squire, and the squire brought two more good spears and offered the first choice to Arthur; and when Arthur had chosen, King Pellinore took the other; and again they spurred their horses together; and again the spears shattered, and again Arthur would have drawn his sword.

‘Nay,’ said King Pellinore, ‘let us ride one more course with the spears, for the love of the high order of knighthood, for you are such a jouster as my heart warms to.’

So the squire brought two more spears, and a third time they spurred against each other. But though Arthur’s spear splintered yet again, this time King Pellinore’s took him so hard on the right spot that both he and his horse were brought crashing to the ground.

Then Arthur sprang clear and drew his sword indeed, and Pellinore swung down from the saddle, drawing his own blade. And there began a great fight between them, and they hacked and hewed at each other until their armour was split and dinted and the blood ran down to slake the dust of the trackway like a crimson rain. At last their blades crashed together with such force that Arthur’s sword flew to pieces, and he was left with the hilt and a jagged stump of the fine blue blade in his hand.

Then Pellinore let out a deep cry of triumph. ‘Now you are mine to slay or spare as I will! Kneel to me and ask mercy as a beaten knight, and it may be that I will let you live!’

‘There are two words as to that,’ said Arthur. ‘Death I will take when it comes, but I yield on my knees to no man!’ And flinging aside his useless sword hilt, he leapt at Pellinore, diving low under his guard, and got him round the waist in a wrestler’s grip and flung him down. So they wrestled upon the ground, a slow hard struggle in their armour; but King Pellinore was a big and powerful man, and Arthur, even as he had said to Sir Gryflet, was not yet come to his full strength; and in a while King Pellinore came uppermost, and tore off the young King’s helmet and reached for his sword …

And in that moment something stirred among the tree-shadows around the well, as though one of the ancient thorns were moving; and out from among them stepped a tall dark man with golden eyes, and his black mantle powdered almost white about the hem with the dust of a long journey.

His shadow in the long evening light fell across the two figures, and Pellinore checked his hand and looked up.

‘Nay, leave your sword where it lies,’ Merlin said. ‘If you slay this man you slay all hope for Britain.’

‘Why, then, who is he?’ asked Pellinore in a sudden quiet.

‘He is Arthur, the High King.’

Then for the first time fear came upon Pellinore, for men who seek to slay a king, and fail, often themselves die ugly deaths; and again for an instant his hand moved towards his sword.

‘Nay,’ said Merlin, ‘no need for that,’ and he raised his hand and pointed a long forefinger at Pellinore; and Pellinore gave a deep sigh and folded gently on to the grass, and lay still.

Then Merlin turned to Arthur, who could scarcely stand for his wounds, and helped him to remount his horse which stood nearby, and led him away.

But Arthur looked back at the still figure lying beside the well, and said, ‘Merlin, what have you done? You have killed this good knight by your crafts; a strong and valiant knight, and I would give a year of my kingship that he should be whole and alive again!’

‘Cease to trouble,’ Merlin said, ‘you are more like to die than he is, for you are sore wounded, while his hurts are less deep than yours, and he only sleeps, and will wake again in three hours. Aye, and you shall meet this King Pellinore many times in friendship, for he shall be a valiant knight of yours, and his son after him.’