Sin and Redemption

Jonathan G. Reinhardt

The Matter of Britain: An Introduction to Arthurian Legend

hen most Western contemporaries remi- nisce upon Arthur the King, they inevitably

do so with a certain wistfulness, a sense of story- books and wonders, ideals of justice and romance: they see Disneyesque castle lands, or Kennedy’s smile. Arthurian legends are indeed the mythology of the anglophone world. Wrapped in the mists of childish memory, they are the childhood photographs of its sense of ad- venture, every memory shaking with the yearning sense that this is a good, magical world after all, where all women are beautiful princesses, all men glistening knights on horseback, and evil merely monsters to be slain.

Even to those who have knowledge of the stories beyond The Sword in the Stone animation and Prince Valiant, to the cultured who have bowed and curtsied before Arthur, Merlin, Lance- lot du Lac and Guinevere, have grappled with Gawain encountering the Green Knight, hoped with Perceval, been touched by Tristram and Isolde in their fate-crossed love—even to them, the legends recall primarily a pleasant story-book illustration of what medieval times were like (or likely not). And of course, all around they re- sound as the patronizable seat of somber girlish excitement, such as when Anne of Green Gable opheliaizes “The Lady of Shalott” before she slips off her bargelet into the emerald river beneath

the bridge where her bedestined bemusedly waits to consequently rescue her; they form the chivalrous template for how to act adolescent love for men shy with verse and roses, or bois- terously steeded with big trucks—and the unwell-spring of dreams of life-long love whence even on their deathbeds not yet disenchanted women murmur princes themwards.

The pivotal medieval reteller Sir Thomas Malory’s conclusion to his Mort d’Arthur (ca. 1470)—that “some say in many parts of England that King Arthur is not dead, but had by the will of Our Lord Jesu in another place; and men say that he shall come again”—embodies the dream of a golden age encompassing all aspects of life. Thus the Arthurian legends evoke the cultural memory of the Anglo-Saxon and of much of the European passages, ravages, and rebirths of époques faded and revived. Accumulating the hopes and hatreds of the centuries, the highly eclectic mythos interprets this Anglophone dream and memory vivacious in terms historical, mythical, narrative, religious, and sentimental.

The “real” Arthur, however, remains an enigma—if he existed at all. In the sources pre- served from close to his lifetime, the historical and mythic qualities of the traditional Arthurian characters and their genuine biographies are an imbroglio difficult to disentangle. Most have, pre-

W

MARS HILL AUDIO Resource Essay

Jonathan Reinhardt, “An Introduction to Arthurian Legend,” page 2

sumably, some unfabled origin, but often enough it seems the current characters are variously fused from a handful of historical heroes, vestiges of folklore, and memories of Celtic and Norse mythology.

Of the authentic Arthur himself, for example, only four claims can be somewhat safely made. First, given that his historical name Artorius is of Roman origin, and in concurrence with the earli- est sources, he was a war leader (dux bellorum) in Britain, fighting—probably at the head of Ro- man-style cavalry units—for the Romanized Celtic Briton petty kings, soon after the Romans with- drew from the island in A.D. 407. Secondly, based either in Welsh southwestern Britain or in those parts of the north inhabited by Brythonic Celts, he defended Christian Celtic Britain against hea- then invaders. Interestingly, the earliest Welsh writers mentioning Arthur in the twelfth century Vita Paterni—the hagiographies of the saints Cadoc, Carannog, Gildas, and Padarn—describe Arthur as a tyrant who plundered monasteries to finance his wars. Of course, the authors were likely themselves simply put-out monks, and they did note favorably that Arthur carried Christian emblems into battle. It seems the dux victori- ously battled Picts, Saxons, and the heathen fac- tion among the Britons headed by a predecessor vortigern (“high king”). Thirdly, in the later sixth century several Arthurs find mention in the his- tory books, which indicates a bearer of this originally rare name was important and admired enough for people to name their sons after him.

Finally, according to renowned Arthurian scholar Geoffrey Ashe, his true biography per- haps inspired at least some of the story elements in the highly eclectic group of legends, since a very few of them cannot be traced to other sources and remain in essence unchanged whether reinterpreted by Welsh bards, French troubadours, or English laureate poets. Among these remnants are Arthur’s leading horse- mounted men into a series of successful battles and his dominance during a few decades in the sixth century when the British Celts held the Saxons and Picts more or less peacefully at bay. He ruled from hill-top fortifications, and pre- ferred an especially prominent one with a name similar to “Camelot”. More speculatively, the his- torical Arthur’s wife may have been abducted (or seduced) by one of his lieutenants at home while

he himself was campaigning abroad. Although it is unclear where exactly Camlann was, Arthur likely met his end in battle there, as did another prominent figure named Medraut (Mordred).

Whoever the “historical” Arthur was, he was not the wondrously fabulous, aging, high medie- val monarch he has come to represent as a literary figment. Much that the Arthurian legends are now valued for—as well as the lack of clarity concerning the “historical” Arthur—arises from the Welsh poetical tradition through which the hero’s stories were preserved after the Saxon hordes harried and hounded the battered, broken Britons into the island’s western hills. Thus the first preserved mention of Arthur is not in a his- torical text, but occurs in the long poem Y Gododdin from the Book of Aneirin, originally written around A.D. 600. Most Welsh poetry was transmitted only orally, as was the Celtic tradi- tion, so that Welsh verse was not more widely collected in books until the twelfth and thir- teenth centuries. Among these were those telling some of the Arthurian legends, and unrelated sto- ries of their characters, that were then collected into the Book of Taliessin and the Black Book of Carmarthen . One such story, Culhwch and Olwen, which was first recorded in the tenth- century forms the arch-pattern for most all pur- suant Arthur-related romances. In these texts, written four centuries after his death, Arthur has already ascended the throne of the benevolent arch-king surrounded by other valiant Welsh he- roes such as Bedwyr/Bedivere and Cei/Kay. The complex Welsh poems recall Arthur’s rule as an idealized time, and intertwine what is left of the historical account with popular elements of pre- Christian myths: battles with giants, Gwenhwy- far/Guinevere and her triplet sisters, the ambiguous bard Myrddin/Merlin, and such magi- cal places as the apple-isle of Avalon.

The Myrddin/Merlin character is a prime ex- ample of such mythological eclecticism. In the medieval manuscripts, he appears in two cultur- ally defined roles: he is a bard in the Welsh tradition, and an enchanter and counselor in the service of Arthur in the English texts. Perhaps reflecting the differing interpretations of his “his- torical” role, authors frequently describe Merlin in terms half demoniac, half human. When Geof- frey of Monmouth later conflates him with an- other collected character, Imrys/Ambrosius, the

MARS HILL AUDIO Resource Essay

Jonathan Reinhardt, “An Introduction to Arthurian Legend,” page 3

future sorcerer’s ambiguity earns its exposé by inheriting the latter figure’s alleged conception by a fiend’s rape of a noble nun. Briton heroes of that particular time seem to have had an inordi- nate propensity towards being fathered on ravished brides of Christ: the sixth century Welsh patron saint Dewi/David, for example, reportedly was the son of a nun raped by a local prince (sometimes said to be a nephew of Arthur’s).

Less can be said about a “historical” Merlin than of Arthur. If he existed at all, he seems to have been a truly talented poet of noble back- ground (and contrary to recent attempts at reconstruction, likely not a covert druid) monikered, like Shakespeare, “The Bard”. The name Myrddin seems to have been an adjective connoting inspiration by a Celtic deity of the arts, similar to the Greek Muses. At times, the Welsh Myrddin skirts identity with the ideal Welsh bard, Taliesin, whose name “radiant brow” likewise implies supernatural inspiration.

Additionally, most scholars presume that the “historical” Merlin is closer to the “wild man” or “Merlin Sylvestris” tradition revolving around the Scottish king Rhydderch ap Tudwal. The name of this tradition’s Merlin-figure originally was Lailoken, which scholars think derives from the Welsh llallogan or llallawc, linked to the word llal, “other”. In the Welsh poem Cyfoesi Myrddin a Gwenddyd ei Chwaer (“Conversation of Myrd- din and his sister Gewnddyd”) recorded in the fourteenth century Red Book of Hergest, Gwen- hydd (probably the original “Lady of the Lake”, Niniane) uses llallogan and lallawc as she im- plores her bardic brother for his insights. The term here seems to be an attribute to Myrddin, or a sort of invocation. Most often, llallogan is translated “twin brother,” “lord,” or “dear friend.” However, “Lailoken” is frequently used inter- changeably with “Lalage,” which derives from the Greek word “to babble” or “to chirp.” In the Sylvestris tradition, his ruler’s demise in battle drives Lailoken mad. He wanders the woods and prophecies there, claiming he is conversing with the dead. Given that Myrddin’s version of the tale is rather similar to Lailoken’s—that of a noble warrior-bard driven mad by the loss of a loved one in battle who then retreats to the woods to become a wild prophet—given also that the same story is reflected in the seventh-century tale of Irish Suibne Geilt, and that both Myrddin’s and

the Irish figure’s tales include hiding within an apple tree (symbolically associated with the lure of the supernatural), it is likely that the entire episode is a vestige of an older Celtic divine. Some have noted Merlin’s repeated association with stags, his preferred steed, and thereby trace him to the Celtic sylvan Pan-like god Cernunnos.

The best-known mythic quality of Merlin, however, stems from what is likely a faulty asso- ciation of the Welsh figure with the Briton Am- brosius (sometimes faultily Celticized as “Imrys”, the eternal). It has been suggested that the two figures actually represent St. Martin of Tours and St. Ambrose of Milan, but even when confined within Britain their identities repel one another. The Welsh Myrddin is clearly a Celtic figure, whereas Gildas calls the military predecessor to Arthur “the last Roman,” Ambrosius was the leader of the Romanized and Christianized Brit- ons and ruled in competition with another high king, or vortigern, who likely led the pagan Celts. The latter may be the “Vortigern” who in- vited the Saxons to Britain. Later sources like Geoffrey of Monmouth (ca. 1135) and Robert de Borron in his Les Prophécies de Merlin (ca. 1200) firmly appropriate a legend concerning Ambro- sius to characterize Merlin: Vortigern plans to sacrifice the fatherless, incubus-spawned future sorcerer to assure that his shaky tower remains standing. The lad exposes two fighting dragons under the building’s foundations, and interprets them as a prophecy to Vortigern’s detriment.

The historical probability that Ambrosius preceded Artorius as major military leader reemerges in Merlin’s role as the providential king-maker of the young Arthur, beginning with the future ruler’s fathering by a Merlin-enchanted Uther Pendragon on the deceived Igraine, his Merlin-monitored upbringing by the knight An- tor/Ector, Merlin’s prophecies when Arthur ascends the throne, and the sorcerer’s crafting of the Round Table. By the time Borron wrote his Prophécies, Merlin’s mythic persona remains no more than a caricature fairy figure with deus-ex- machina qualities who is finally ensnared by his own witchcraft and damning flirtation with the fairy Nimue/Vivienne.

While most mythical influences on the Arthu- rian cycle are veiledly Celtic, others, like the Grail, are of unsure origin and constantly change their form: the Grail is variously a cup, a lance,

MARS HILL AUDIO Resource Essay

Jonathan Reinhardt, “An Introduction to Arthurian Legend,” page 4

even a stone, plus various relics. The incorpora- tion of Germanic myth into Arthur’s story marks the supreme irony that the Angles and Saxons Arthur combated came to hail him as their own idealized king. While Excalibur itself is most likely a descendant of a sword named Caladbolg belonging to the Irish hero Cú Chulainn, the story of the sword-in-the-stone, for example, may have its parallel in the Norse Volsunga Saga (twelfth century). There, the hero Sigurd (who is later absorbed into the Nibelungen’s Siegfried) succeeds in pulling the magic sword Balmung divinely sent by the bard/enchanter-god Odin out of an oak after many others have failed. The dragon-slaying episodes of later Arthurian legends likewise descend from the Norse sagas.

The French may be credited with transform- ing the mythical Welsh Arthur poems and the of- ten bungling pseudo-histories into so-called romance narratives, or legends. Scholars at the turn of the first millennium were well aware of the tenuous presence of fact in the mythical nar- ratives they were transcribing. The ninth-century Irish monk who copied the epic Táin Bó Cualigne, for example, added as a postscript: “I, who copied this history down, or rather this fan- tasy, do not believe in all the details. Several things in it are devilish lies. Others are the inven- tion of poets. And others again have been thought up for the entertainment of idiots.”

The idiotes savantes for whom the French troubadours recreated the British folklore passed on to them by Breton minstrels were the likes of Eleanor of Aquitaine and her daughter Marie de Champagne. Such noblewomen sponsored the newly arisen chivalrous movement, based mainly on the former monk Andreas Capellanus’ manual The Art of Courtly Love (1170s & 80s). Taking seriously the ancient Roman poet Ovid’s (both first centuries) ironic player handbook A r s Amandi, Capellanus offered advice on how to pursue adulterous love, or at least cuckoldry. Among nobles, the sacrament of marriage had at the time largely disintegrated into political ar- rangement so that The Art of Courtly Love offered a consciously immoral reprieve of sorts, and became immediately popular. The Church condemned Cappallanus’ advice, and insisted on the faithfuls’ transmuting their desires into an adoring devotion so nearly religious that many knights chose to worship those married or vir-

ginal women who, to quote from Shakespeare’s Cymbeline, were “as chaste as unsunn’d snow.” Martial noblemen often had little difficulty, then, in espousing the Marian heresy and making the Virgin Mary their object of chivalric idolatry. Thus inspired, the courtly romances of Chrétien de Troyes and others interwove the ideals of courtly love with knights’ heroic action, recasting the hitherto stature of rough-hewn warrior- knights as an effigy of fine-mannered, virtuous gentlemen willing to offer up their lives for their ideals, their honor for their lady, and their king- dom for a horse.

Likely inspired by the reputedly talented Bre- ton minstrels, French and Anglo-French noble- men had mused over some of the Arthurian subject matter before Chrétien heard it, and even spread Arthur’s fame as far as Italy. The eighth- century Briton Nennius and in the tenth-century Welsh Annales Cambriae briefly mentioned the “historical” Arthur, and in his 1136 Historia Regum Birtanniae the highly unreliable historian Geoffrey of Monmouth “made” the once and fu- ture king’s legend by creatively compiling Angli- cized and feudalized versions of Arthur’s story. By 1155, Monmouth’s revision was available as Wace’s French translation Roman de Brut, al- ready inflected with bits of chivalry. From these far-flung sources, in the late twelfth century Chrétien des Troyes selected the materials for his narrative verse romances and sung forth a series of works seemingly inspired—and certainly fol- lowing the “boy-meets-girl” plot of—the earlier Welsh work Culhwch and Olwen. Chrétien’s Érec et Énide, Cligès, Lancelot le chevalier de la charette, Yvain le chevalier au lion, and the un- finished Perceval le conte del Graal are not as unconcerned with scope, and Arthur’s kingship serves as their setting, not their subject matter. Chrétien does away with all pseudo-history, and thus his works are considered the first great lit- erary treatments of the Arthurian legends. Arthur’s own story, in fact, would find a more able rewriting in the anonymous La Mort de le Roi Artu (ca. AD 1230). However, it is Chrétien’s characters and narrative emphases that have come to be dominant in Arthurian retellings. De Troyes introduced Lancelot as a major figure, as well as constant returns to the chivalric Round Table motif.

MARS HILL AUDIO Resource Essay

Jonathan Reinhardt, “An Introduction to Arthurian Legend,” page 5

Most of de Troyes’ romances are really love- interest illustrations, drawing on the plot of the earlier Culhwch and Olwen. As in Culhwch, Chrétien’s Arthur is an elderly sage who often remains the rather passive ruler of a realm of marvels, and often acts merely as a foil to another narrative. The most prominent of these is, of course, the courtly-love romance of Lancelot and Arthur’s wife Guinevere, which Chrétien versi- fied in Le Chavalier de la Charette, and which has come to dominate the Arthurian legends. Probably drawing on an earlier Celtic tale of the abduction of a noble lady—and perhaps reflect- ing the biography of the ‘historical’ Arthur to an extent— Le Chevalier is essentially a recast retell- ing of a story found in the Vitae Gildae, where Melwas, king of Aestiva Regis, abducts Guinevere.

Lancelot, in fact, is not originally an Arthurian figure at all: his name suggests continental origin, and he first appears as Arthur’s nephew in the German Ulrich von Zatzikhoven’s Lanzelet, without any reference to Guinevere. Zaztikhoven sends Lancelot on a typical series of quest adven- tures, several of which incidentally end in marriages to retired damsels in distress. Lance- lot’s lineage is certainly royal; while nursing her husband, a king dying of a broken heart in exile, the future paragon’s mother leaves her child out of sight on a lakeshore, from whence a water maiden promptly abducts him. Lancelot matures in the care of his foster-mother, the Lady of the Lake and her court of 10,000 maidens. In Zatzik- hoven’s telling, Lancelot redeems himself and comes into his dead father’s inheritance. Chrétien reduces the unusual in Lancelot’s upbringing, confining the Lady of the Lake’s strangeness to a mirage. Instead, the troubadour focuses on a similarity between Lancelot’s passage to and from otherworlds with that of Guinevere’s in another of Zatzikhoven’s tales to find occasion for their treacherous tête-à-tête. Ulrich’s interpretation of the abduction-motif has Guinevere ravished by the magician Falerin, who hides her in an other- world. Chrétien may have made Lancelot the friendly culprit of such a story to parallel the popular legend of Tristram and Isolde as versified in Gottfried von Strassburg’s Tristan.

Critics have noted that Chrétien’s stories of- ten seem artificial in tone, and that Lancelot remains a character without one, indicating that

the romance narratives were meant as “every- knight” illustrations of courtly chivalric love—a function they still have. Chrétien’s take adds some sense of nobility and an assenting romantic sentiment to the treacherous amour that is un- usually benevolent.

Even as a minor character, Guinevere had preoccupied legendwrights throughout time. A fragment of Welsh poetry names the capricious early Arthurian companion Kay as her abductor; in another, Gawain seduces her. Later, as in Geof- frey of Monmouth, it is most often the murderous usurper Mordred with whom she willingly com- mits adultery. In any case, the affair always ends badly for all concerned. Lancelot’s treachery brings an end to the Round Table and to Camelot. War breaks out culminating in the battle of Cam- lann where Arthur is slain. In the poetic texts, Guinevere usually retires to a convent after her husband’s death, while the pseudo-histories usu- ally have her killed. In Layamon’s retranslation of Wace’s Brut (ca. 1200), for example, Guinevere drowns herself. Among the common people, her memory is reviled and no one offers prayers for her soul. Alfred Lord Tennyson will later go so far in his Idylls of the King (1889) as to declare Guinevere and Lancelot’s adultery the root of most evil at Arthur’s court, marking it as the cor- ruption that allows barbarism to overrun the glorious Britain of Camelot.

The limited virtuous capacities of chivalric love find a treatment in the fourteenth-century Middle English poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, where the noble knight and later mortal enemy of Lancelot resists the most explicit en- ticements of his enigmatic host’s wife with great difficulty while he waits to be beheaded by the other-worldly green giant for in turn having failed to decapitate the discolored monster the previous year.

The continental romances not only intro- duced the idea of courtly love to the Arthurian legends, but also the decidedly religious strain of the Holy Grail Quest legend. In this Quest, one or more knights take upon them the perilous search for the Grail, or Graal, which is elusive to all but the worthiest. The quest’s inherent traits of mys- ticism and self-denying devotion reflect the teach- ings of Bernard de Clairvaux of the Knight Templars, who encouraged faithful Christians to seek beatific visions through arduous self-purifi-

MARS HILL AUDIO Resource Essay

Jonathan Reinhardt, “An Introduction to Arthurian Legend,” page 6

cation so they could re-enact the quasi-marital union of the soul with the Divine. Bernard inci- dentally was among the foremost patrons of copiers of the Arthurian cycle.

The origin of the grail motif is disputed, but it made its original appearance as what seems to be a pagan cult object, with Gawain the hero. In the Celtic tradition, the grail consists of all or any of four different objects: the invincible sword Ex- calibur, the unerring white lance covered in blood, the stone of destiny that future kings must stand upon while being crowned, and the so- called cup or cauldron of plenty. By the time Chrétien de Troyes and his contemporary Wolf- ram von Eschenbach wrote their respective versions of the Grail Quest, Perceval replaced Gawain as the central hero (only to be later in turn supplanted by Galahad), and each of the grail aspects had taken on an explicitly Christian meaning. Excalibur became an attribute of the just king, which is why Arthur could wield it, but Bedivere has to cast it back into the Lake. The blood on the lance was that of Jesus, pierced by the centurion Longinus during the crucifixion. The stone gradually transfigured into the alche- mist lapis philosophorum. The cup, most impor- tantly, came to hold the blood and sweat of Jesus crucified, the wine-vessel of the Last Supper spir- ited to Britain by Joseph of Arimathaea.

Both Chrétien for his unfinished Perceval le conte del Graal and Wolfram for his Parzival drew their material from a common source, an otherwise unknown poet by the name of Kiot. The narrative itself is probably of Celtic origin and first told in Syr Percyvelle of Galles. In both tellings, Perceval is the son of a widow of nobler lineage than his father who brings him up in ig- norance of his heritage and in isolation from the world in order to spare him his sire’s violent death. As providence will have it, the characteris- tically innocent Perceval happens upon a knight who impractically lectures him on manners. Per- ceval adheres to what he is told and ends up raping a sleeping noblewoman in all courtesy, offending Arthur’s court with his lack of civility, killing a knight, and having to prove his heritage by setting out on a series of ennobling adven- tures. In Chrétien de Troyes’ Perceval and Es- chenbach’s Parzival the young questor accidentally stumbles upon the grail castle, but does not realize its significance, and, wanting to

display good manners, fails to inquire into it. Chrétien’s graal, incidentally, is the blood-filled cup it will remain hence, whereas Wolfram’s is of stone. Once Perceval realizes what he has left undone, he spends the remainder of his days at- tempting to recover the Holy Grail’s presence.

In later versions of the Grail Quest, Perceval is in turn replaced by Lancelot’s spiritually pure bastard son Galahad. (Literarily, this knight may actually have had its source in the eleventh-cen- tury Welsh Mabinogi, as Peredur, Son of Evrawc.) Galahad, too, in spite of being the sin- less contrast to his adulterous father, can only permanently attain the grail in death.

The narrative strains of history, myth, ro- mance, and religion in Arthurian legend entangle in the semi-authoritative source of Arthurian leg- ends for moderns, Mort d’Artur by the fifteenth- century knight Sir Thomas Malory. Taking the de- historicizing impulse of the romance troubadours to heart, Malory seized the sixth century hero Ar- turus by the throat and then, as John Steinbeck remarks, “put his knights in fifteenth century ar- mor and imposed the twelfth-thirteenth century code of knighthood against a curious depopu- lated and ruined countryside, which reminds us of England after the first plague and ruined as the Wars of the Roses made it.” Malory drew on the so-called “post-Vulgate” stories of the thirteenth century as well as on the French lays and their translations. Consequently, in Sir Thomas’s telling Mordred is considered the king’s bastard son by his sister Morgaine, Excalibur is clearly associated with the magical Lady of the Lake, the calamities of Arthur’s later realm are ended only by Gala- had’s death attributed to the slaying of the suffering Grail king Pellean by the Round Table knight Balin (subsequently murdered by his twin Balan), Tristan joins the Round Table, and thus the destruction of Arthur’s kingdom is advanced by King Mark of Cornwall, Isolde’s husband. Most importantly, however, Malory sheds all pretense of pseudo-historicity and thus paves the way for the Arthurian legends to once again become myth—this time the national mythos of Tudor England.

With the Renaissance, whatever values may have been originally associated with the legends of Arthur now were reduced to inspiringly sen- timental fairy tales (in the more meaningful sense). As J. R. R. Tolkien explained in his lecture

MARS HILL AUDIO Resource Essay

Jonathan Reinhardt, “An Introduction to Arthurian Legend,” page 7

“On Fairy Stories,” “It is the mark of a good fairy- story, of the higher or more complete kind, that however wild its events, however fantastic or ter- rible the adventures, it can give to child or man that hears it, when the ‘turn’ comes, a catch of the breath, a beat and lifting of the heart, near to (or indeed accompanied by) tears, as keen as that given by any form of literary art, and having a pe- culiar quality”—that of joy, or in this case, encouraging enthusiasm. To the Renaissance writers Michael Drayton in his Polyolbion and in the Faerie Queen by Edmund Spenser, for exam- ple, the Arthurian tales are treated as more or less fictitious, but respected as an important part of the inspiring English national mythology, a fading memory losing its narrative power, and thus its artistic attraction.

In the wake of three centuries of literary ne- glect, Arthur the King regained popularity during the era of Victoria the Empress, thanks in part to medievalizing tendencies in pre-Raphaelite art and in Newman-inspired religion. Of course, the politer preferences of the chivalrous ideas, too, revived with the rise of the post-Romantic bour- geois gentleman. Tennyson’s Idylls of the King, which depends heavily on Malory, became a bestseller in Britain in spite of being poetry. Other prosodists like Swinburne, Morris, and Browning, too, treated Arthurian themes and mo- tifs. Their view of Arthur the King evoked the golden age of a simpler England lost, the high ideals of which were to be exemplary for their own contemporaries, even more so as social and political reforms eroded the aristocratic classes whose puritanical principles demanded a poetic authority to wean them from the presumption that vulgarity is simply the conduct of other peo- ple, and from the anxiety that they, like the boor- ish degenerate gentry and the seedy, foul-toothed proletarians, could resist anything except temptation.

The interest of the British poet laureate and his colleagues coincided with the Wagnerian re- vival of Teutonic mythology, which included Tristan (1859) and Parsifal (1882), although not Arthur proper. Wagner’s inspiration was by no means a chivalrous trajectory; rather, the ranting composer sought to resurrect the Teutonic strengths he perceived dormant through his völkisch mysticism. Where Tennyson was con- cerned with the ideals and sentiments of neo-

chivalry, Wagner was preoccupied with the mythic dimensions, and replaced any inherent ideas of holiness with a quest for empowered compassion.

Characteristically, the twentieth century greeted the traditional legends with calls for up- dating and fundamental reinterpretation, careful scholarly scrutiny of its sources, and the combi- nation of more or less qualified rewritings in light of personal contemporary agendas characteristic of much so-called historical fiction. The last of the traditionalist mohicans was American poet Edwin Arlington Robinson (of “Miniver Cheevy” and “Richard Cory” fame). His three blank verse poems “Merlin”, “Lancelot”, and “Tristram” cap- ture the legends in conventional forms, but he assigns his heroes a psychology, and one fitting the dark, disenchanting dilemmas of the modern- ist West. More famous are the British T. H. White’s rewriting of Malory, The Once and Fu- ture King (1958) and The Book of Merlyn (1977). White’s works inspired the Disney adap- tation The Sword in the Stone (1963), but, more importantly, were clearly cast as biting satire of contemporaries. His tales sport a naïve and falli- ble Arthur, a gandalfesque, bungling, providential Merlin (complete with Archimedes, the owl), older knights clearly modeled on public school- groomed retired British army officers who ramble boorishly over their port, nonsensical never-end- ing quests, and lectures by Merlyn on such topics as totalitarianism and anarchy. To top it off, White makes a point of Merlin knowing the fu- ture because he lives his life backwards. The humorous work does away with any poetic ele- ments, ending up a mock-fairy tale complete with anachronisms, political allegory, and pacifist commentary.

The legends subsequently received a high lit- erary treatment by American novelist John Stein- beck, who emphasized the humanity of the king and the vassals as realistic characters in his The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights. Even more scholarly, philologists at Oxford such as Charles Williams and C. S. Lewis attempted to restore mythological meaning to the legends by placing them back into researched contexts, and complimenting them as they saw fit. Charles Wil- liams’ poetry collections Taliessin Through Logres (1938) and The Region of the Summer Stars (1944) are considered major, spiritually

MARS HILL AUDIO Resource Essay

Jonathan Reinhardt, “An Introduction to Arthurian Legend,” page 8

complex contributions to the grail idea as the unorthodox thinker has Welsh bard Taliessin re- tell the Arthurian cycle from his poet perspec- tive. Part of Williams’ attempts to reinfuse mean- ing to the material is his use of traditional motifs in criticizing modernist materialism, as when his Modred claims the grail’s best use is to drink from it at dinner. C. S. Lewis resurrects Merlin for his own modernist critique in the novel That Hideous Strength (1945), pitching him against the obliterating evils of technological nihilism. His Christian druid-wizard pays the price of his own dabbling in magic by becoming the imper- fect vessel of divine wrath against the techno- logical occult, transforming the somewhat-pagan into a mighty Elijah-figure. Lewis also edited some of Williams’ Arthurian criticism—often amount- ing to a reinterpretation of the texts—and complemented them in the so-called Arthurian Torso (1948).

The most contemporary garb of the Arthurian legends, however, has once more departed from art form and returned into the seething lap of the historical romance novel. The major authors of the New Age interpretation of the Arthurian cor- pus (the authors would probably call it a “recov- ery”) are Marion Zimmer Bradley, otherwise known for her space fantasy pulp fiction Dark- over series, and the more traditional Mary Stew- art. Bradley’s take on Arthur’s story is dominated by an attempt to impose a matriarchal structure on the pagan elements of Roman Britain, proba- bly under the influence of Joseph Campbell’s pu- pil Marija Gimbutas, who proposed that pre- Christian and especially pre-Indo-European religions were dedicated foremost to a mother- goddess. The view is largely discredited among scholars, but apparently lingers among what seems to be Bradley’s other influence—the New Age “neopagan” movement. Throughout her Avalon series (beginning with The Mists of Avalon in 1983), Bradley persistently advances the polytheist view of nature, pantheist meta- physics, anti-Christian stereotypes, and even ritualistic practices that constitute the largely faulty so-called neopagan understanding of pre- Christian British religion. Bradley’s approach, however, has proven widely influential, and the telling of the Arthurian tales as the conflict be- tween pre-Christian and Christian culture (rather than, as in traditional Arthurian legend, between

Christian Celts and pagan Saxon invaders), and as “true myth” with believable characters is now the most common method among Arthurian novel- ists. Also noteworthy is that, like Bradley, most contemporary writers focus on previously mar- ginalized characters, especially women, and that versions of Merlin, not Arthur, tend to be at the center of their narratives.

Almost contemporarily with Bradley, Mary Stewart authored her Crystal Cave-series, a crea- tive biography of Merlin. She, too, attempts to recover a “real person” behind the mythological Myrddin figure, and portrays him as less a relig- ious figure than a perceptive and intelligent gifted. There is a host of other retellings, most of which largely mimic Malory in updating the atti- tudes and world-view positions of the protago- nists, and Geoffrey of Monmouth in their concoctive creativity. The post-Tolkienian fantasy romance in its Arthurian incarnation, too, has yet to live up to the genre’s ability to convey relevant mythic depth without destroying either the po- etic complexities or metaphysical consistencies of their predecessors. Two of the more success- ful fantasy interpreters in the Arthurian subject matter are probably Stephen Lawhead, who goes so far as to integrate even the Atlantis myth, and Bernard Cornwell, who brings more historical expertise to the task than most others. Adding to the “Celtic” mystique currently en vogue, such mythographically pluralist popular fantasy retel- lings have added an anthropological shimmer to our consciousness of what especially Arthur and Merlin may or may not stand for.

Who, or what, then, is Arthur to the contem- porary hearts and minds? The essence and persis- tent strength of the Arthurian legends has always been the cultural arch-myth his story has be- come: a larger-than-life figure of high nobility reigns over a near-paradise, only to nobly fall through the tragic flaw that is his humanity, but leaving the hope that beyond history, he will be ruling a gloriously perfect state forever.

Not a few idealists envision in Albion’s morn- lit days of just right kingship and courteously gracious knights-errant phantasms of spotless presidents and generous executives whisking to the gates of our-homes-our-castles in luminescent limousines to lay the heads of evil tyrants at our feet, safeguarding the mirth-imbibing treasures of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness (or at

MARS HILL AUDIO Resource Essay

Jonathan Reinhardt, “An Introduction to Arthurian Legend,” page 9

least the spoils of rights, tolerance, and safe retirement)—also known as the Holy Grail. Certainly Kennedy’s Camelot and its subsequent porches have always been much more than a rhetorical flourish. They are the resonant fondling of the heartfelt hope for the good glories of a brave Free World. Frankly, the expectations towards an ideal and just Christian king as a moral, political, and military figurehead of a Good Nation d o differ but slightly from those frequently associated with the glorious burden of the decent, to-the-best-of-my-ability President of a republic that fancies itself a Promised Land with spiritual, ideological, and militant righteousness pervading all its acts and objectives—an attitude not least gleanable from the Manichean rhetoric that arouses its people to “decisive action”, and the standards by which the decency of a presi- dent is judged to the neglect of his political prowess. In the Anglophone land of amber waves, where Camelot has its mailbox on Penn- sylvania Avenue, it is still more important for the head of state to seem good and smile (Arthur)

than to seem able and furrow-browed (the king). Like the Arthur of later legend, he is the heroic CEO who promulgates things peacefully so that all his paragons (that would be us) can quest ad- venturously for our material wenches.

Arthur is hope. Arthur is enchantment. Arthur is romance. As long as there are holy grails and dreams of the good kingdom, as long as there are belles dames sans merci and mists, black knights and dark giants, as long as young Hero will gaze on sleeping beauties sighing “she has a lovely face,” Arthur’s eternal summer will not fade. Where the merry spawn of Britain is concerned, at least in spirit, “some say . . . that King Arthur is not dead, but had by the will of Our Lord Jesu in another place; and men say that he shall come again”—the once and future king.

Jonathan G. Reinhardt worked as an editorial intern for MARS HILL AUDIO in the summer of 2003. This article was written in August of that year.

Le Morte D’Arthur (selected excerpts)

Sir Thomas Malory

Book Twenty

Chapter 1

How Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred were busy upon Sir Gawaine for to disclose the love between Sir

Launcelot and Queen Guenever.

IN May when every lusty heart flourisheth and bourgeoneth, for as the season is lusty to behold and

comfortable, so man and woman rejoice and gladden of summer coming with his fresh flowers: for

winter with his rough winds and blasts causeth a lusty man and woman to cower and sit fast by the fire.

So in this season, as in the month of May, it befell a great anger and unhap that stinted not till the

flower of chivalry of all the world was destroyed and slain; and all was long upon two unhappy knights

the which were named Agravaine and Sir Mordred, that were brethren unto Sir Gawaine. For this Sir

Agravaine and Sir Mordred had ever a privy hate unto the queen Dame Guenever and to Sir Launcelot,

and daily and nightly they ever watched upon Sir Launcelot.

So it mishapped, Sir Gawaine and all his brethren were in King Arthur's chamber; and then Sir Agravaine

said thus openly, and not in no counsel, that many knights might hear it: I marvel that we all be not

ashamed both to see and to know how Sir Launcelot lieth daily and nightly by the queen, and all we

know it so; and it is shamefully suffered of us all, that we all should suffer so noble a king as King Arthur

is so to be shamed.

Then spake Sir Gawaine, and said: Brother Sir Agravaine, I pray you and charge you move no such

matters no more afore me, for wit you well, said Sir Gawaine, I will not be of your counsel. So God me

help, said Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth, we will not be knowing, brother Agravaine, of your deeds. Then will

I, said Sir Mordred. I lieve well that, said Sir Gawaine, for ever unto all unhappiness, brother Sir

Mordred, thereto will ye grant; and I would that ye left all this, and made you not so busy, for I know,

said Sir Gawaine, what will fall of it. Fall of it what fall may, said Sir Agravaine, I will disclose it to the

king. Not by my counsel, said Sir Gawaine, for an there rise war and wrack betwixt Sir Launcelot and us,

wit you well brother, there will many kings and great lords hold with Sir Launcelot. Also, brother Sir

Agravaine, said Sir Gawaine, ye must remember how ofttimes Sir Launcelot hath rescued the king and

the queen; and the best of us all had been full cold at the heart-root had not Sir Launcelot been better

than we, and that hath he proved himself full oft. And as for my part, said Sir Gawaine, I will never be

against Sir Launcelot for one day's deed, when he rescued me from King Carados of the Dolorous Tower,

and slew him, and saved my life. Also, brother Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred, in like wise Sir Launcelot

rescued you both, and threescore and two, from Sir Turquin. Methinketh brother, such kind deeds and

kindness should be remembered. Do as ye list, said Sir Agravaine, for I will lain it no longer. With these

words came to them King Arthur. Now brother, stint your noise, said Sir Gawaine. We will not, said Sir

Agravaine and Sir Mordred. Will ye so? said Sir Gawaine; then God speed you, for I will not hear your

tales ne be of your counsel. No more will I, said Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris, for we will never say evil by

that man; for because, said Sir Gareth, Sir Launcelot made me knight, by no manner owe I to say ill of

him: and therewithal they three departed, making great dole. Alas, said Sir Gawaine and Sir Gareth, now

is this realm wholly mischieved, and the noble fellowship of the Round Table shall be disparpled: so they

departed.

Chapter 2

CHAPTER II

How Sir Agravaine disclosed their love to King Arthur, and how King Arthur gave them licence to take

him.

AND then Sir Arthur asked them what noise they made. My lord, said Agravaine, I shall tell you that I

may keep no longer. Here is I, and my brother Sir Mordred, brake unto my brothers Sir Gawaine, Sir

Gaheris, and to Sir Gareth, how this we know all, that Sir Launcelot holdeth your queen, and hath done

long; and we be your sister's sons, and we may suffer it no longer, and all we wot that ye should be

above Sir Launcelot; and ye are the king that made him knight, and therefore we will prove it, that he is

a traitor to your person.

If it be so, said Sir Arthur, wit you well he is none other, but I would be loath to begin such a thing but I

might have proofs upon it; for Sir Launcelot is an hardy knight, and all ye know he is the best knight

among us all; and but if he be taken with the deed, he will fight with him that bringeth up the noise, and

I know no knight that is able to match him. Therefore an it be sooth as ye say, I would he were taken

with the deed. For as the French book saith, the king was full loath thereto, that any noise should be

upon Sir Launcelot and his queen; for the king had a deeming, but he would not hear of it, for Sir

Launcelot had done so much for him and the queen so many times, that wit ye well the king loved him

passingly well. My lord, said Sir Agravaine, ye shall ride to-morn a-hunting, and doubt ye not Sir

Launcelot will not go with you. Then when it draweth toward night, ye may send the queen word that ye

will lie out all that night, and so may ye send for your cooks, and then upon pain of death we shall take

him that night with the queen, and outher we shall bring him to you dead or quick. I will well, said the

king; then I counsel you, said the king, take with you sure fellowship. Sir, said Agravaine, my brother, Sir

Mordred, and I, will take with us twelve knights of the Round Table. Beware, said King Arthur, for I warn

you ye shall find him wight. Let us deal, said Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred.

So on the morn King Arthur rode a-hunting, and sent word to the queen that he would be out all that

night. Then Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred gat to them twelve knights, and hid themself in a chamber in

the Castle of Carlisle, and these were their names: Sir Colgrevance, Sir Mador de la Porte, Sir Gingaline,

Sir Meliot de Logris, Sir Petipase of Winchelsea, Sir Galleron of Galway, Sir Melion of the Mountain, Sir

Astamore, Sir Gromore Somir Joure, Sir Curselaine, Sir Florence, Sir Lovel. So these twelve knights were

with Sir Mordred and Sir Agravaine, and all they were of Scotland, outher of Sir Gawaine's kin, either

well-willers to his brethren.

So when the night came, Sir Launcelot told Sir Bors how he would go that night and speak with the

queen. Sir, said Sir Bors, ye shall not go this night by my counsel. Why? said Sir Launcelot. Sir, said Sir

Bors, I dread me ever of Sir Agravaine, that waiteth you daily to do you shame and us all; and never gave

my heart against no going, that ever ye went to the queen, so much as now; for I mistrust that the king

is out this night from the queen because peradventure he hath lain some watch for you and the queen,

and therefore I dread me sore of treason. Have ye no dread, said Sir Launcelot, for I shall go and come

again, and make no tarrying. Sir, said Sir Bors, that me repenteth, for I dread me sore that your going out

this night shall wrath us all. Fair nephew, said Sir Launcelot, I marvel much why ye say thus, sithen the

queen hath sent for me; and wit ye well I will not be so much a coward, but she shall understand I will

see her good grace. God speed you well, said Sir Bors, and send you sound and safe again.

Chapter 3

How Sir Launcelot was espied in the queen's chamber, and how Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred came with

twelve knights to slay him.

SO Sir Launcelot departed, and took his sword under his arm, and so in his mantle that noble knight put

himself in great Jeopardy; and so he passed till he came to the queen's chamber, and then Sir Launcelot

was lightly put into the chamber. And then, as the French book saith, the queen and Launcelot were

together. And whether they were abed or at other manner of disports, me list not hereof make no

mention, for love that time was not as is now-a-days. But thus as they were together, there came Sir

Agravaine and Sir Mordred, with twelve knights with them of the Round Table, and they said with crying

voice: Traitor-knight, Sir Launcelot du Lake, now art thou taken. And thus they cried with a loud voice,

that all the court might hear it; and they all fourteen were armed at all points as they should fight in a

battle. Alas said Queen Guenever, now are we mischieved both Madam, said Sir Launcelot, is there here

any armour within your chamber, that I might cover my poor body withal? An if there be any give it me,

and I shall soon stint their malice, by the grace of God. Truly, said the queen, I have none armour, shield,

sword, nor spear; wherefore I dread me sore our long love is come to a mischievous end, for I hear by

their noise there be many noble knights, and well I wot they be surely armed, and against them ye may

make no resistance. Wherefore ye are likely to be slain, and then shall I be brent. For an ye might escape

them, said the queen, I would not doubt but that ye would rescue me in what danger that ever I stood

in. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, in all my life thus was I never bestead, that I should be thus shamefully slain

for lack of mine armour.

But ever in one Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred cried: Traitor-knight, come out of the queen's chamber,

for wit thou well thou art so beset that thou shalt not escape. O Jesu mercy, said Sir Launcelot, this

shameful cry and noise I may not suffer, for better were death at once than thus to endure this pain.

Then he took the queen in his arms, and kissed her, and said: Most noble Christian queen, I beseech you

as ye have been ever my special good lady, and I at all times your true poor knight unto my power, and

as I never failed you in right nor in wrong sithen the first day King Arthur made me knight, that ye will

pray for my soul if that I here be slain; for well I am assured that Sir Bors, my nephew, and all the

remnant of my kin, with Sir Lavaine and Sir Urre, that they will not fail you to rescue you from the fire;

and therefore, mine own lady, recomfort yourself, whatsomever come of me, that ye go with Sir Bors,

my nephew, and Sir Urre, and they all will do you all the pleasure that they can or may, that ye shall live

like a queen upon my lands. Nay, Launcelot, said the queen, wit thou well I will never live after thy days,

but an thou be slain I will take my death as meekly for Jesu Christ's sake as ever did any Christian queen.

Well, madam, said Launcelot, sith it is so that the day is come that our love must depart, wit you well I

shall sell my life as dear as I may; and a thousandfold, said Sir Launcelot, I am more heavier for you than

for myself. And now I had liefer than to be lord of all Christendom, that I had sure armour upon me, that

men might speak of my deeds or ever I were slain. Truly, said the queen, I would an it might please God

that they would take me and slay me, and suffer you to escape. That shall never be, said Sir Launcelot,

God defend me from such a shame, but Jesu be Thou my shield and mine armour!

Chapter 4

How Sir Launcelot slew Sir Colgrevance, and armed him in his harness, and after slew Sir Agravaine, and

twelve of his fellows.

AND therewith Sir Launcelot wrapped his mantle about his arm well and surely; and by then they had

gotten a great form out of the hall, and therewithal they rashed at the door. Fair lords, said Sir

Launcelot, leave your noise and your rashing, and I shall set open this door, and then may ye do with me

what it liketh you. Come off then, said they all, and do it, for it availeth thee not to strive against us all;

and therefore let us into this chamber, and we shall save thy life until thou come to King Arthur. Then

Launcelot unbarred the door, and with his left hand he held it open a little, so that but one man might

come in at once; and so there came striding a good knight, a much man and large, and his name was

Colgrevance of Gore, and he with a sword struck at Sir Launcelot mightily; and he put aside the stroke,

and gave him such a buffet upon the helmet, that he fell grovelling dead within the chamber door. And

then Sir Launcelot with great might drew that dead knight within the chamber door; and Sir Launcelot

with help of the queen and her ladies was lightly armed in Sir Colgrevance's armour.

And ever stood Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred crying: Traitor-knight, come out of the queen's chamber.

Leave your noise, said Sir Launcelot unto Sir Agravaine, for wit you well, Sir Agravaine, ye shall not

prison me this night; and therefore an ye do by my counsel, go ye all from this chamber door, and make

not such crying and such manner of slander as ye do; for I promise you by my knighthood, an ye will

depart and make no more noise, I shall as to-morn appear afore you all before the king, and then let it

be seen which of you all, outher else ye all, that will accuse me of treason; and there I shall answer you

as a knight should, that hither I came to the queen for no manner of mal engin, and that will I prove and

make it good upon you with my hands. Fie on thee, traitor, said Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred, we will

have thee maugre thy head, and slay thee if we list; for we let thee wit we have the choice of King

Arthur to save thee or to slay thee. Ah sirs, said Sir Launcelot, is there none other grace with you? then

keep yourself.

So then Sir Launcelot set all open the chamber door, and mightily and knightly he strode in amongst

them; and anon at the first buffet he slew Sir Agravaine. And twelve of his fellows after, within a little

while after, he laid them cold to the earth, for there was none of the twelve that might stand Sir

Launcelot one buffet. Also Sir Launcelot wounded Sir Mordred, and he fled with all his might. And then

Sir Launcelot returned again unto the queen, and said: Madam, now wit you well all our true love is

brought to an end, for now will King Arthur ever be my foe; and therefore, madam, an it like you that I

may have you with me, I shall save you from all manner adventures dangerous. That is not best, said the

queen; meseemeth now ye have done so much harm, it will be best ye hold you still with this. And if ye

see that as to-morn they will put me unto the death, then may ye rescue me as ye think best. I will well,

said Sir Launcelot, for have ye no doubt, while I am living I shall rescue you. And then he kissed her, and

either gave other a ring; and so there he left the queen, and went until his lodging.

Chapter 8

How Sir Launcelot and his kinsmen rescued the queen from the fire, and how he slew many knights.

THEN said the noble King Arthur to Sir Gawaine: Dear nephew, I pray you make you ready in your best

armour, with your brethren, Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth, to bring my queen to the fire, there to have her

judgment and receive the death. Nay, my most noble lord, said Sir Gawaine, that will I never do; for wit

you well I will never be in that place where so noble a queen as is my lady, Dame Guenever, shall take a

shameful end. For wit you well, said Sir Gawaine, my heart will never serve me to see her die; and it shall

never be said that ever I was of your counsel of her death.

Then said the king to Sir Gawaine: Suffer your brothers Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth to be there. My lord,

said Sir Gawaine, wit you well they will be loath to be there present, because of many adventures the

which be like there to fall, but they are young and full unable to say you nay. Then spake Sir Gaheris, and

the good knight Sir Gareth, unto Sir Arthur: Sir, ye may well command us to be there, but wit you well it

shall be sore against our will; but an we be there by your strait commandment ye shall plainly hold us

there excused: we will be there in peaceable wise, and bear none harness of war upon us. In the name

of God, said the king, then make you ready, for she shall soon have her judgment anon. Alas, said Sir

Gawaine, that ever I should endure to see this woful day. So Sir Gawaine turned him and wept heartily,

and so he went into his chamber; and then the queen was led forth without Carlisle, and there she was

despoiled into her smock. And so then her ghostly father was brought to her, to be shriven of her

misdeeds. Then was there weeping, and wailing, and wringing of hands, of many lords and ladies, but

there were but few in comparison that would bear any armour for to strength the death of the queen.

Then was there one that Sir Launcelot had sent unto that place for to espy what time the queen should

go unto her death; and anon as he saw the queen despoiled into her smock, and so shriven, then he

gave Sir Launcelot warning. Then was there but spurring and plucking up of horses, and right so they

came to the fire. And who that stood against them, there were they slain; there might none withstand

Sir Launcelot, so all that bare arms and withstood them, there were they slain, full many a noble knight.

For there was slain Sir Belliance le Orgulous, Sir Segwarides, Sir Griflet, Sir Brandiles, Sir Aglovale, Sir Tor;

Sir Gauter, Sir Gillimer, Sir Reynolds' three brethren; Sir Damas, Sir Priamus, Sir Kay the Stranger, Sir

Driant, Sir Lambegus, Sir Herminde; Sir Pertilope, Sir Perimones, two brethren that were called the

Green Knight and the Red Knight. And so in this rushing and hurling, as Sir Launcelot thrang here and

there, it mishapped him to slay Gaheris and Sir Gareth, the noble knight, for they were unarmed and

unware. For as the French book saith, Sir Launcelot smote Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris upon the brain-

pans, wherethrough they were slain in the field; howbeit in very truth Sir Launcelot saw them not, and

so were they found dead among the thickest of the press.

Then when Sir Launcelot had thus done, and slain and put to flight all that would withstand him, then he

rode straight unto Dame Guenever, and made a kirtle and a gown to be cast upon her; and then he

made her to be set behind him, and prayed her to be of good cheer. Wit you well the queen was glad

that she was escaped from the death. And then she thanked God and Sir Launcelot; and so he rode his

way with the queen, as the French book saith, unto Joyous Gard, and there he kept her as a noble knight

should do; and many great lords and some kings sent Sir Launcelot many good knights, and many noble

knights drew unto Sir Launcelot. When this was known openly, that King Arthur and Sir Launcelot were

at debate, many knights were glad of their debate, and many were full heavy of their debate.

Chapter 9

Of the sorrow and lamentation of King Arthur for the death of his nephews and other good knights, and

also for the queen, his wife.

SO turn we again unto King Arthur, that when it was told him how and in what manner of wise the

queen was taken away from the fire, and when he heard of the death of his noble knights, and in

especial of Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth's death, then the king swooned for pure sorrow. And when he

awoke of his swoon, then he said: Alas, that ever I bare crown upon my head! for now have I lost the

fairest fellowship of noble knights that ever held Christian king together. Alas, my good knights be slain

away from me: now within these two days I have lost forty knights, and also the noble fellowship of Sir

Launcelot and his blood, for now I may never hold them together no more with my worship. Alas that

ever this war began. Now fair fellows, said the king, I charge you that no man tell Sir Gawaine of the

death of his two brethren; for I am sure, said the king, when Sir Gawaine heareth tell that Sir Gareth is

dead he will go nigh out of his mind. Mercy Jesu, said the king, why slew he Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris,

for I dare say as for Sir Gareth he loved Sir Launcelot above all men earthly. That is truth, said some

knights, but they were slain in the hurtling as Sir Launcelot thrang in the thick of the press; and as they

were unarmed he smote them and wist not whom that he smote, and so unhappily they were slain. The

death of them, said Arthur, will cause the greatest mortal war that ever was; I am sure, wist Sir Gawaine

that Sir Gareth were slain, I should never have rest of him till I had destroyed Sir Launcelot's kin and

himself both, outher else he to destroy me. And therefore, said the king, wit you well my heart was

never so heavy as it is now, and much more I am sorrier for my good knights' loss than for the loss of my

fair queen; for queens I might have enow, but such a fellowship of good knights shall never be together

in no company. And now I dare say, said King Arthur, there was never Christian king held such a

fellowship together; and alas that ever Sir Launcelot and I should be at debate. Ah Agravaine, Agravaine,

said the king, Jesu forgive it thy soul, for thine evil will, that thou and thy brother Sir Mordred hadst unto

Sir Launcelot, hath caused all this sorrow: and ever among these complaints the king wept and

swooned.

Then there came one unto Sir Gawaine, and told him how the queen was led away with Sir Launcelot,

and nigh a twenty-four knights slain. O Jesu defend my brethren, said Sir Gawaine, for full well wist I

that Sir Launcelot would rescue her, outher else he would die in that field; and to say the truth he had

not been a man of worship had he not rescued the queen that day, insomuch she should have been

brent for his sake. And as in that, said Sir Gawaine, he hath done but knightly, and as I would have done

myself an I had stood in like case. But where are my brethren? said Sir Gawaine, I marvel I hear not of

them. Truly, said that man, Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris be slain. Jesu defend, said Sir Gawaine, for all the

world I would not that they were slain, and in especial my good brother, Sir Gareth. Sir, said the man, he

is slain, and that is great pity. Who slew him? said Sir Gawaine. Sir, said the man, Launcelot slew them

both. That may I not believe, said Sir Gawaine, that ever he slew my brother, Sir Gareth; for I dare say

my brother Gareth loved him better than me, and all his brethren, and the king both. Also I dare say, an

Sir Launcelot had desired my brother Sir Gareth, with him he would have been with him against the king

and us all, and therefore I may never believe that Sir Launcelot slew my brother. Sir, said this man, it is

noised that he slew him.

Chapter 10

How King Arthur at the request of Sir Gawaine concluded to make war against Sir Launcelot, and laid

siege to his castle called Joyous Gard.

ALAS, said Sir Gawaine, now is my joy gone. And then he fell down and swooned, and long he lay there

as he had been dead. And then, when he arose of his swoon, he cried out sorrowfully, and said: Alas!

And right so Sir Gawaine ran to the king, crying and weeping: O King Arthur, mine uncle, my good

brother Sir Gareth is slain, and so is my brother Sir Gaheris, the which were two noble knights. Then the

king wept, and he both; and so they fell a-swooning. And when they were revived then spake Sir

Gawaine: Sir, I will go see my brother, Sir Gareth. Ye may not see him, said the king, for I caused him to

be interred, and Sir Gaheris both; for I well understood that ye would make over-much sorrow, and the

sight of Sir Gareth should have caused your double sorrow.

Alas, my lord, said Sir Gawaine, how slew he my brother, Sir Gareth? Mine own good lord I pray you tell

me. Truly, said the king, I shall tell you how it is told me, Sir Launcelot slew him and Sir Gaheris both.

Alas, said Sir Gawaine, they bare none arms against him, neither of them both. I wot not how it was, said

the king, but as it is said, Sir Launcelot slew them both in the thickest of the press and knew them not;

and therefore let us shape a remedy for to revenge their deaths.

My king, my lord, and mine uncle, said Sir Gawaine, wit you well now I shall make you a promise that I

shall hold by my knighthood, that from this day I shall never fail Sir Launcelot until the one of us have

slain the other. And therefore I require you, my lord and king, dress you to the war, for wit you well I will

be revenged upon Sir Launcelot; and therefore, as ye will have my service and my love, now haste you

thereto, and assay your friends. For I promise unto God, said Sir Gawaine, for the death of my brother,

Sir Gareth, I shall seek Sir Launcelot throughout seven kings' realms, but I shall slay him or else he shall

slay me. Ye shall not need to seek him so far, said the king, for as I hear say, Sir Launcelot will abide me

and you in the Joyous Gard; and much people draweth unto him, as I hear say. That may I believe, said

Sir Gawaine; but my lord, he said, assay your friends, and I will assay mine. It shall be done, said the king,

and as I suppose I shall be big enough to draw him out of the biggest tower of his castle.

So then the king sent letters and writs throughout all England, both in the length and the breadth, for to

assummon all his knights. And so unto Arthur drew many knights, dukes, and earls, so that he had a

great host. And when they were assembled, the king informed them how Sir Launcelot had bereft him

his queen. Then the king and all his host made them ready to lay siege about Sir Launcelot, where he lay

within Joyous Gard. Thereof heard Sir Launcelot, and purveyed him of many good knights, for with him

held many knights; and some for his own sake, and some for the queen's sake. Thus they were on both

parties well furnished and garnished of all manner of thing that longed to the war. But King Arthur's host

was so big that Sir Launcelot would not abide him in the field, for he was full loath to do battle against

the king; but Sir Launcelot drew him to his strong castle with all manner of victual, and as many noble

men as he might suffice within the town and the castle. Then came King Arthur with Sir Gawaine with an

huge host, and laid a siege all about Joyous Gard, both at the town and at the castle, and there they

made strong war on both parties. But in no wise Sir Launcelot would ride out, nor go out of his castle, of

long time; neither he would none of his good knights to issue out, neither none of the town nor of the

castle, until fifteen weeks were past.

Book Twenty-One

Chapter 3

How after, Sir Gawaine's ghost appeared to King Arthur, and warned him that he should not fight that

day.

AND then the king let search all the towns for his knights that were slain, and interred them; and salved

them with soft salves that so sore were wounded. Then much people drew unto King Arthur. And then

they said that Sir Mordred warred upon King Arthur with wrong. And then King Arthur drew him with his

host down by the seaside, westward toward Salisbury; and there was a day assigned betwixt King Arthur

and Sir Mordred, that they should meet upon a down beside Salisbury, and not far from the seaside; and

this day was assigned on a Monday after Trinity Sunday, whereof King Arthur was passing glad, that he

might be avenged upon Sir Mordred. Then Sir Mordred araised much people about London, for they of

Kent, Southsex, and Surrey, Estsex, and of Southfolk, and of Northfolk, held the most part with Sir

Mordred; and many a full noble knight drew unto Sir Mordred and to the king: but they that loved Sir

Launcelot drew unto Sir Mordred.

So upon Trinity Sunday at night, King Arthur dreamed a wonderful dream, and that was this: that him

seemed he sat upon a chaflet in a chair, and the chair was fast to a wheel, and thereupon sat King Arthur

in the richest cloth of gold that might be made; and the king thought there was under him, far from him,

an hideous deep black water, and therein were all manner of serpents, and worms, and wild beasts, foul

and horrible; and suddenly the king thought the wheel turned up-so-down, and he fell among the

serpents, and every beast took him by a limb; and then the king cried as he lay in his bed and slept: Help.

And then knights, squires, and yeomen, awaked the king; and then he was so amazed that he wist not

where he was; and then he fell a-slumbering again, not sleeping nor thoroughly waking. So the king

seemed verily that there came Sir Gawaine unto him with a number of fair ladies with him. And when

King Arthur saw him, then he said: Welcome, my sister's son; I weened thou hadst been dead, and now I

see thee alive, much am I beholding unto Almighty Jesu. O fair nephew and my sister's son, what be

these ladies that hither be come with you? Sir, said Sir Gawaine, all these be ladies for whom I have

foughten when I was man living, and all these are those that I did battle for in righteous quarrel; and

God hath given them that grace at their great prayer, because I did battle for them, that they should

bring me hither unto you: thus much hath God given me leave, for to warn you of your death; for an ye

fight as to-morn with Sir Mordred, as ye both have assigned, doubt ye not ye must be slain, and the

most part of your people on both parties. And for the great grace and goodness that almighty Jesu hath

unto you, and for pity of you, and many more other good men there shall be slain, God hath sent me to

you of his special grace, to give you warning that in no wise ye do battle as to-morn, but that ye take a

treaty for a month day; and proffer you largely, so as to-morn to be put in a delay. For within a month

shall come Sir Launcelot with all his noble knights, and rescue you worshipfully, and slay Sir Mordred,

and all that ever will hold with him. Then Sir Gawaine and all the ladies vanished.

And anon the king called upon his knights, squires, and yeomen, and charged them wightly to fetch his

noble lords and wise bishops unto him. And when they were come, the king told them his avision, what

Sir Gawaine had told him, and warned him that if he fought on the morn he should be slain. Then the

king commanded Sir Lucan the Butler, and his brother Sir Bedivere, with two bishops with them, and

charged them in any wise, an they might, Take a treaty for a month day with Sir Mordred, and spare not,

proffer him lands and goods as much as ye think best. So then they departed, and came to Sir Mordred,

where he had a grim host of an hundred thousand men. And there they entreated Sir Mordred long

time; and at the last Sir Mordred was agreed for to have Cornwall and Kent, by Arthur's days: after, all

England, after the days of King Arthur.

Chapter 4

How by misadventure of an adder the battle began, where Mordred was slain, and Arthur hurt to the

death.

THEN were they condescended that King Arthur and Sir Mordred should meet betwixt both their hosts,

and everych of them should bring fourteen persons; and they came with this word unto Arthur. Then

said he: I am glad that this is done: and so he went into the field. And when Arthur should depart, he

warned all his host that an they see any sword drawn: Look ye come on fiercely, and slay that traitor, Sir

Mordred, for I in no wise trust him. In like wise Sir Mordred warned his host that: An ye see any sword

drawn, look that ye come on fiercely, and so slay all that ever before you standeth; for in no wise I will

not trust for this treaty, for I know well my father will be avenged on me. And so they met as their

appointment was, and so they were agreed and accorded thoroughly; and wine was fetched, and they

drank. Right soon came an adder out of a little heath bush, and it stung a knight on the foot. And when

the knight felt him stung, he looked down and saw the adder, and then he drew his sword to slay the

adder, and thought of none other harm. And when the host on both parties saw that sword drawn, then

they blew beams, trumpets, and horns, and shouted grimly. And so both hosts dressed them together.

And King Arthur took his horse, and said: Alas this unhappy day! and so rode to his party. And Sir

Mordred in like wise. And never was there seen a more dolefuller battle in no Christian land; for there

was but rushing and riding, foining and striking, and many a grim word was there spoken either to other,

and many a deadly stroke. But ever King Arthur rode throughout the battle of Sir Mordred many times,

and did full nobly as a noble king should, and at all times he fainted never; and Sir Mordred that day put

him in devoir, and in great peril. And thus they fought all the long day, and never stinted till the noble

knights were laid to the cold earth; and ever they fought still till it was near night, and by that time was

there an hundred thousand laid dead upon the down. Then was Arthur wood wroth out of measure,

when he saw his people so slain from him.

Then the king looked about him, and then was he ware, of all his host and of all his good knights, were

left no more alive but two knights; that one was Sir Lucan the Butler, and his brother Sir Bedivere, and

they were full sore wounded. Jesu mercy, said the king, where are all my noble knights become? Alas

that ever I should see this doleful day, for now, said Arthur, I am come to mine end. But would to God

that I wist where were that traitor Sir Mordred, that hath caused all this mischief. Then was King Arthur

ware where Sir Mordred leaned upon his sword among a great heap of dead men. Now give me my

spear, said Arthur unto Sir Lucan, for yonder I have espied the traitor that all this woe hath wrought. Sir,

let him be, said Sir Lucan, for he is unhappy; and if ye pass this unhappy day ye shall be right well

revenged upon him. Good lord, remember ye of your night's dream, and what the spirit of Sir Gawaine

told you this night, yet God of his great goodness hath preserved you hitherto. Therefore, for God's

sake, my lord, leave off by this, for blessed be God ye have won the field, for here we be three alive, and

with Sir Mordred is none alive; and if ye leave off now this wicked day of destiny is past. Tide me death,

betide me life, saith the king, now I see him yonder alone he shall never escape mine hands, for at a

better avail shall I never have him. God speed you well, said Sir Bedivere.

Then the king gat his spear in both his hands, and ran toward Sir Mordred, crying: Traitor, now is thy

death-day come. And when Sir Mordred heard Sir Arthur, he ran until him with his sword drawn in his

hand. And there King Arthur smote Sir Mordred under the shield, with a foin of his spear, throughout

the body, more than a fathom. And when Sir Mordred felt that he had his death wound he thrust

himself with the might that he had up to the bur of King Arthur's spear. And right so he smote his father

Arthur, with his sword holden in both his hands, on the side of the head, that the sword pierced the

helmet and the brain-pan, and therewithal Sir Mordred fell stark dead to the earth; and the noble

Arthur fell in a swoon to the earth, and there he swooned ofttimes. And Sir Lucan the Butler and Sir

Bedivere ofttimes heaved him up. And so weakly they led him betwixt them both, to a little chapel not

far from the seaside. And when the king was there he thought him well eased.

Then heard they people cry in the field. Now go thou, Sir Lucan, said the king, and do me to wit what

betokens that noise in the field. So Sir Lucan departed, for he was grievously wounded in many places.

And so as he yede, he saw and hearkened by the moonlight, how that pillers and robbers were come

into the field, to pill and to rob many a full noble knight of brooches, and beads, of many a good ring,

and of many a rich jewel; and who that were not dead all out, there they slew them for their harness

and their riches. When Sir Lucan understood this work, he came to the king as soon as he might, and

told him all what he had heard and seen. Therefore by my rede, said Sir Lucan, it is best that we bring

you to some town. I would it were so, said the king.

Chapter 5

How King Arthur commanded to cast his sword Excalibur into the water, and how he was delivered to

ladies in a barge.

BUT I may not stand, mine head works so. Ah Sir Launcelot, said King Arthur, this day have I sore missed

thee: alas, that ever I was against thee, for now have I my death, whereof Sir Gawaine me warned in my

dream. Then Sir Lucan took up the king the one part, and Sir Bedivere the other part, and in the lifting

the king swooned; and Sir Lucan fell in a swoon with the lift, that the part of his guts fell out of his body,

and therewith the noble knight's heart brast. And when the king awoke, he beheld Sir Lucan, how he lay

foaming at the mouth, and part of his guts lay at his feet. Alas, said the king, this is to me a full heavy

sight, to see this noble duke so die for my sake, for he would have holpen me, that had more need of

help than I. Alas, he would not complain him, his heart was so set to help me: now Jesu have mercy

upon his soul! Then Sir Bedivere wept for the death of his brother. Leave this mourning and weeping,

said the king, for all this will not avail me, for wit thou well an I might live myself, the death of Sir Lucan

would grieve me evermore; but my time hieth fast, said the king. Therefore, said Arthur unto Sir

Bedivere, take thou Excalibur, my good sword, and go with it to yonder water side, and when thou

comest there I charge thee throw my sword in that water, and come again and tell me what thou there

seest. My lord, said Bedivere, your commandment shall be done, and lightly bring you word again.

So Sir Bedivere departed, and by the way he beheld that noble sword, that the pommel and the haft was

all of precious stones; and then he said to himself: If I throw this rich sword in the water, thereof shall

never come good, but harm and loss. And then Sir Bedivere hid Excalibur under a tree. And so, as soon

as he might, he came again unto the king, and said he had been at the water, and had thrown the sword

in the water. What saw thou there? said the king. Sir, he said, I saw nothing but waves and winds. That is

untruly said of thee, said the king, therefore go thou lightly again, and do my commandment; as thou art

to me lief and dear, spare not, but throw it in. Then Sir Bedivere returned again, and took the sword in

his hand; and then him thought sin and shame to throw away that noble sword, and so eft he hid the

sword, and returned again, and told to the king that he had been at the water, and done his

commandment. What saw thou there? said the king. Sir, he said, I saw nothing but the waters wap and

waves wan. Ah, traitor untrue, said King Arthur, now hast thou betrayed me twice. Who would have

weened that, thou that hast been to me so lief and dear? and thou art named a noble knight, and would

betray me for the richness of the sword. But now go again lightly, for thy long tarrying putteth me in

great jeopardy of my life, for I have taken cold. And but if thou do now as I bid thee, if ever I may see

thee, I shall slay thee with mine own hands; for thou wouldst for my rich sword see me dead.

Then Sir Bedivere departed, and went to the sword, and lightly

took it up, and went to the water side; and there he bound the girdle about the hilts, and then he threw

the sword as far into the water as he might; and there came an arm and an hand above the water and

met it, and caught it, and so shook it thrice and brandished, and then vanished away the hand with the

sword in the water. So Sir Bedivere came again to the king, and told him what he saw. Alas, said the

king, help me hence, for I dread me I have tarried over long. Then Sir Bedivere took the king upon his

back, and so went with him to that water side. And when they were at the water side, even fast by the

bank hoved a little barge with many fair ladies in it, and among them all was a queen, and all they had

black hoods, and all they wept and shrieked when they saw King Arthur. Now put me into the barge,

said the king. And so he did softly; and there received him three queens with great mourning; and so

they set them down, and in one of their laps King Arthur laid his head. And then that queen said: Ah,

dear brother, why have ye tarried so long from me? alas, this wound on your head hath caught over-

much cold. And so then they rowed from the land, and Sir Bedivere beheld all those ladies go from him.

Then Sir Bedivere cried: Ah my lord Arthur, what shall become of me, now ye go from me and leave me

here alone among mine enemies? Comfort thyself, said the king, and do as well as thou mayst, for in me

is no trust for to trust in; for I will into the vale of Avilion to heal me of my grievous wound: and if thou

hear never more of me, pray for my soul. But ever the queens and ladies wept and shrieked, that it was

pity to hear. And as soon as Sir Bedivere had lost the sight of the barge, he wept and wailed, and so took

the forest; and so he went all that night, and in the morning he was ware betwixt two holts hoar, of a

chapel and an hermitage.

Chapter 6

How Sir Bedivere found him on the morrow dead in an hermitage, and how he abode there with the

hermit.

THEN was Sir Bedivere glad, and thither he went; and when he came into the chapel, he saw where lay

an hermit grovelling on all four, there fast by a tomb was new graven. When the hermit saw Sir Bedivere

he knew him well, for he was but little to-fore Bishop of Canterbury, that Sir Mordred flemed. Sir, said

Bedivere, what man is there interred that ye pray so fast for? Fair son, said the hermit, I wot not verily,

but by deeming. But this night, at midnight, here came a number of ladies, and brought hither a dead

corpse, and prayed me to bury him; and here they offered an hundred tapers, and they gave me an

hundred besants. Alas, said Sir Bedivere, that was my lord King Arthur, that here lieth buried in this

chapel. Then Sir Bedivere swooned; and when he awoke he prayed the hermit he might abide with him

still there, to live with fasting and prayers. For from hence will I never go, said Sir Bedivere, by my will,

but all the days of my life here to pray for my lord Arthur. Ye are welcome to me, said the hermit, for I

know ye better than ye ween that I do. Ye are the bold Bedivere, and the full noble duke, Sir Lucan the

Butler, was your brother. Then Sir Bedivere told the hermit all as ye have heard to-fore. So there bode

Sir Bedivere with the hermit that was to-fore Bishop of Canterbury, and there Sir Bedivere put upon him

poor clothes, and served the hermit full lowly in fasting and in prayers.

Thus of Arthur I find never more written in books that be authorised, nor more of the very certainty of

his death heard I never read, but thus was he led away in a ship wherein were three queens; that one

was King Arthur's sister, Queen Morgan le Fay; the other was the Queen of Northgalis; the third was the

Queen of the Waste Lands. Also there was Nimue, the chief lady of the lake, that had wedded Pelleas

the good knight; and this lady had done much for King Arthur, for she would never suffer Sir Pelleas to

be in no place where he should be in danger of his life; and so he lived to the uttermost of his days with

her in great rest. More of the death of King Arthur could I never find, but that ladies brought him to his

burials; and such one was buried there, that the hermit bare witness that sometime was Bishop of

Canterbury, but yet the hermit knew not in certain that he was verily the body of King Arthur: for this

tale Sir Bedivere, knight of the Table Round, made it to be written.

Chapter 7

Of the opinion of some men of the death of King Arthur; and how Queen Guenever made her a nun in

Almesbury.

YET some men say in many parts of England that King Arthur is not dead, but had by the will of our Lord

Jesu into another place; and men say that he shall come again, and he shall win the holy cross. I will not

say it shall be so, but rather I will say: here in this world he changed his life. But many men say that

there is written upon his tomb this verse: Hic jacet Arthurus, Rex quondam, Rexque futurus. Thus leave I

here Sir Bedivere with the hermit, that dwelled that time in a chapel beside Glastonbury, and there was

his hermitage. And so they lived in their prayers, and fastings, and great abstinence. And when Queen

Guenever understood that King Arthur was slain, and all the noble knights, Sir Mordred and all the

remnant, then the queen stole away, and five ladies with her, and so she went to Almesbury; and there

she let make herself a nun, and ware white clothes and black, and great penance she took, as ever did

sinful lady in this land, and never creature could make her merry; but lived in fasting, prayers, and alms-

deeds, that all manner of people marvelled how virtuously she was changed. Now leave we Queen

Guenever in Almesbury, a nun in white clothes and black, and there she was Abbess and ruler as reason

would; and turn we from her, and speak we of Sir Launcelot du Lake.

Chapter 10

How Sir Launcelot came to the hermitage where the Archbishop of Canterbury was, and how he took the

habit on him.

BUT sithen I find you thus disposed, I ensure you faithfully, I will ever take me to penance, and pray

while my life lasteth, if I may find any hermit, either gray or white, that will receive me. Wherefore,

madam, I pray you kiss me and never no more. Nay, said the queen, that shall I never do, but abstain

you from such works: and they departed. But there was never so hard an hearted man but he would

have wept to see the dolour that they made; for there was lamentation as they had been stung with

spears; and many times they swooned, and the ladies bare the queen to her chamber.

And Sir Launcelot awoke, and went and took his horse, and rode all that day and all night in a forest,

weeping. And at the last he was ware of an hermitage and a chapel stood betwixt two cliffs; and then he

heard a little bell ring to mass, and thither he rode and alighted, and tied his horse to the gate, and

heard mass. And he that sang mass was the Bishop of Canterbury. Both the Bishop and Sir Bedivere

knew Sir Launcelot, and they spake together after mass. But when Sir Bedivere had told his tale all

whole, Sir Launcelot's heart almost brast for sorrow, and Sir Launcelot threw his arms abroad, and said:

Alas, who may trust this world. And then he kneeled down on his knee, and prayed the Bishop to shrive

him and assoil him. And then he besought the Bishop that he might be his brother. Then the Bishop said:

I will gladly; and there he put an habit upon Sir Launcelot, and there he served God day and night with

prayers and fastings.

Thus the great host abode at Dover. And then Sir Lionel took fifteen lords with him, and rode to London

to seek Sir Launcelot; and there Sir Lionel was slain and many of his lords. Then Sir Bors de Ganis made

the great host for to go home again; and Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Blamore, Sir Bleoberis, with

more other of Sir Launcelot's kin, took on them to ride all England overthwart and endlong, to seek Sir

Launcelot. So Sir Bors by fortune rode so long till he came to the same chapel where Sir Launcelot was;

and so Sir Bors heard a little bell knell, that rang to mass; and there he alighted and heard mass. And

when mass was done, the Bishop Sir Launcelot, and Sir Bedivere, came to Sir Bors. And when Sir Bors

saw Sir Launcelot in that manner clothing, then he prayed the Bishop that he might be in the same suit.

And so there was an habit put upon him, and there he lived in prayers and fasting. And within half a

year, there was come Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Blamore, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Villiars, Sir Clarras, and Sir

Gahalantine. So all these seven noble knights there abode still. And when they saw Sir Launcelot had

taken him to such perfection, they had no lust to depart, but took such an habit as he had.

Thus they endured in great penance six year; and then Sir Launcelot took the habit of priesthood of the

Bishop, and a twelvemonth he sang mass. And there was none of these other knights but they read in

books, and holp for to sing mass, and rang bells, and did bodily all manner of service. And so their horses

went where they would, for they took no regard of no worldly riches. For when they saw Sir Launcelot

endure such penance, in prayers, and fastings, they took no force what pain they endured, for to see the

noblest knight of the world take such abstinence that he waxed full lean. And thus upon a night, there

came a vision to Sir Launcelot, and charged him, in remission of his sins, to haste him unto Almesbury:

And by then thou come there, thou shalt find Queen Guenever dead. And therefore take thy fellows

with thee, and purvey them of an horse bier, and fetch thou the corpse of her, and bury her by her

husband, the noble King Arthur. So this avision came to Sir Launcelot thrice in one night.

Chapter 11

How Sir Launcelot went with his seven fellows to Almesbury, and found there Queen Guenever dead,

whom they brought to Glastonbury.

THEN Sir Launcelot rose up or day, and told the hermit. It were well done, said the hermit, that ye made

you ready, and that you disobey not the avision. Then Sir Launcelot took his eight fellows with him, and

on foot they yede from Glastonbury to Almesbury, the which is little more than thirty mile. And thither

they came within two days, for they were weak and feeble to go. And when Sir Launcelot was come to

Almesbury within the nunnery, Queen Guenever died but half an hour afore. And the ladies told Sir

Launcelot that Queen Guenever told them all or she passed, that Sir Launcelot had been priest near a

twelvemonth, And hither he cometh as fast as he may to fetch my corpse; and beside my lord, King

Arthur, he shall bury me. Wherefore the queen said in hearing of them all: I beseech Almighty God that I

may never have power to see Sir Launcelot with my worldly eyen; and thus, said all the ladies, was ever

her prayer these two days, till she was dead. Then Sir Launcelot saw her visage, but he wept not greatly,

but sighed. And so he did all the observance of the service himself, both the dirige, and on the morn he

sang mass. And there was ordained an horse bier; and so with an hundred torches ever brenning about

the corpse of the queen, and ever Sir Launcelot with his eight fellows went about the horse bier, singing

and reading many an holy orison, and frankincense upon the corpse incensed. Thus Sir Launcelot and his

eight fellows went on foot from Almesbury unto Glastonbury.

And when they were come to the chapel and the hermitage, there she had a dirige, with great devotion.

And on the morn the hermit that sometime was Bishop of Canterbury sang the mass of Requiem with

great devotion. And Sir Launcelot was the first that offered, and then also his eight fellows. And then she

was wrapped in cered cloth of Raines, from the top to the toe, in thirtyfold, and after she was put in a

web of lead, and then in a coffin of marble. And when she was put in the earth Sir Launcelot swooned,

and lay long still, while the hermit came and awaked him, and said: Ye be to blame, for ye displease God

with such manner of sorrow-making. Truly, said Sir Launcelot, I trust I do not displease God, for He

knoweth mine intent. For my sorrow was not, nor is not for any rejoicing of sin, but my sorrow may

never have end. For when I remember of her beauty, and of her noblesse, that was both with her king

and with her, so when I saw his corpse and her corpse so lie together, truly mine heart would not serve

to sustain my careful body. Also when I remember me how by my default, mine orgule and my pride,

that they were both laid full low, that were peerless that ever was living of Christian people, wit you

well, said Sir Launcelot, this remembered, of their kindness and mine unkindness, sank so to mine heart,

that I might not sustain myself. So the French book maketh mention.

Chapter 12

How Sir Launcelot began to sicken, and after died, whose body was borne to Joyous Gard for to be

buried.

THEN Sir Launcelot never after ate but little meat, ne drank, till he was dead. For then he sickened more

and more, and dried, and dwined away. For the Bishop nor none of his fellows might not make him to

eat, and little he drank, that he was waxen by a cubit shorter than he was, that the people could not

know him. For evermore, day and night, he prayed, but sometime he slumbered a broken sleep; ever he

was lying grovelling on the tomb of King Arthur and Queen Guenever. And there was no comfort that

the Bishop, nor Sir Bors, nor none of his fellows, could make him, it availed not. So within six weeks

after, Sir Launcelot fell sick, and lay in his bed; and then he sent for the Bishop that there was hermit,

and all his true fellows. Then Sir Launcelot said with dreary steven: Sir Bishop, I pray you give to me all

my rites that longeth to a Christian man. It shall not need you, said the hermit and all his fellows, it is but

heaviness of your blood, ye shall be well mended by the grace of God to-morn. My fair lords, said Sir

Launcelot, wit you well my careful body will into the earth, I have warning more than now I will say;

therefore give me my rites. So when he was houseled and anealed, and had all that a Christian man

ought to have, he prayed the Bishop that his fellows might bear his body to Joyous Gard. Some men say

it was Alnwick, and some men say it was Bamborough. Howbeit, said Sir Launcelot, me repenteth sore,

but I made mine avow sometime, that in Joyous Gard I would be buried. And because of breaking of

mine avow, I pray you all, lead me thither. Then there was weeping and wringing of hands among his

fellows.

So at a season of the night they all went to their beds, for they all lay in one chamber. And so after

midnight, against day, the Bishop [that] then was hermit, as he lay in his bed asleep, he fell upon a great

laughter. And therewith all the fellowship awoke, and came to the Bishop, and asked him what he ailed.

Ah Jesu mercy, said the Bishop, why did ye awake me? I was never in all my life so merry and so well at

ease. Wherefore? said Sir Bors. Truly said the Bishop, here was Sir Launcelot with me with mo angels

than ever I saw men in one day. And I saw the angels heave up Sir Launcelot unto heaven, and the gates

of heaven opened against him. It is but dretching of swevens, said Sir Bors, for I doubt not Sir Launcelot

aileth nothing but good. It may well be, said the Bishop; go ye to his bed, and then shall ye prove the

sooth. So when Sir Bors and his fellows came to his bed they found him stark dead, and he lay as he had

smiled, and the sweetest savour about him that ever they felt.

Then was there weeping and wringing of hands, and the greatest dole they made that ever made men.

And on the morn the Bishop did his mass of Requiem, and after, the Bishop and all the nine knights put

Sir Launcelot in the same horse bier that Queen Guenever was laid in to-fore that she was buried. And

so the Bishop and they all together went with the body of Sir Launcelot daily, till they came to Joyous

Gard; and ever they had an hundred torches brenning about him. And so within fifteen days they came

to Joyous Gard. And there they laid his corpse in the body of the quire, and sang and read many psalters

and prayers over him and about him.

And ever his visage was laid open and naked, that all folks might behold him. For such was the custom in

those days, that all men of worship should so lie with open visage till that they were buried. And right

thus as they were at their service, there came Sir Ector de Maris, that had seven years sought all

England, Scotland, and Wales, seeking his brother, Sir Launcelot.

Chapter 13

How Sir Ector found Sir Launcelot his brother dead, and how Constantine reigned next after Arthur; and

of the end of this book.

AND when Sir Ector heard such noise and light in the quire of Joyous Gard, he alighted and put his horse

from him, and came into the quire, and there he saw men sing and weep. And all they knew Sir Ector,

but he knew not them. Then went Sir Bors unto Sir Ector, and told him how there lay his brother, Sir

Launcelot, dead; and then Sir Ector threw his shield, sword, and helm from him. And when he beheld Sir

Launcelot's visage, he fell down in a swoon. And when he waked it were hard any tongue to tell the

doleful complaints that he made for his brother. Ah Launcelot, he said, thou were head of all Christian

knights, and now I dare say, said Sir Ector, thou Sir Launcelot, there thou liest, that thou were never

matched of earthly knight's hand. And thou were the courteoust knight that ever bare shield. And thou

were the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrad horse. And thou were the truest lover of a sinful

man that ever loved woman. And thou were the kindest man that ever struck with sword. And thou

were the goodliest person that ever came among press of knights. And thou was the meekest man and

the gentlest that ever ate in hall among ladies. And thou were the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that

ever put spear in the rest. Then there was weeping and dolour out of measure.

Thus they kept Sir Launcelot's corpse aloft fifteen days, and then they buried it with great devotion. And

then at leisure they went all with the Bishop of Canterbury to his hermitage, and there they were

together more than a month. Then Sir Constantine, that was Sir Cador's son of Cornwall, was chosen

king of England. And he was a full noble knight, and worshipfully he ruled this realm. And then this King

Constantine sent for the Bishop of Canterbury, for he heard say where he was. And so he was restored

unto his Bishopric, and left that hermitage. And Sir Bedivere was there ever still hermit to his life's end.

Then Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Gahalantine, Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Blamore, Sir

Bleoberis, Sir Villiars le Valiant, Sir Clarrus of Clermont, all these knights drew them to their countries.

Howbeit King Constantine would have had them with him, but they would not abide in this realm. And

there they all lived in their countries as holy men. And some English books make mention that they went

never out of England after the death of Sir Launcelot, but that was but favour of makers. For the French

book maketh mention, and is authorised, that Sir Bors, Sir Ector, Sir Blamore, and Sir Bleoberis, went

into the Holy Land thereas Jesu Christ was quick and dead, and anon as they had stablished their lands.

For the book saith, so Sir Launcelot commanded them for to do, or ever he passed out of this world. And

these four knights did many battles upon the miscreants or Turks. And there they died upon a Good

Friday for God's sake. Here is the end of the book of King Arthur, and of his noble knights of the Round

Table, that when they were whole together there was ever an hundred and forty. And here is the end of

the death of Arthur. I pray you all, gentlemen and gentlewomen that readeth this book of Arthur and his

knights, from the beginning to the ending, pray for me while I am alive, that God send me good

deliverance, and when I am dead, I pray you all pray for my soul. For this book was ended the ninth year

of the reign of King Edward the Fourth, by Sir Thomas Maleore, knight, as Jesu help him for his great

might, as he is the servant of Jesu both day and night. Thus endeth this noble and joyous book entitled

Le Morte Darthur. Notwithstanding it treateth of the birth, life, and acts of the said King Arthur, of his

noble knights of the Round Table, their marvellous enquests and adventures, the achieving of the

Sangreal, and in the end the dolorous death and departing out of this world of them all. Which book was

reduced into English by Sir Thomas Malory, knight, as afore is said, and by me divided into twenty-one

books, chaptered and emprinted, and finished in the abbey, Westminster, the last day of July the year of

our Lord MCCCCLXXX. Caxton me fieri fecit.

(Note: The images are Pre-Raphaelite portraits of this story from the 19th Century. The first is “Guinevere Amaying”

by John Collier, and the second is “Death of Arthur” by James Archer.)