Arthur Rex

by Thomas Berger

  “That is a commendable sentiment,” said King Arthur, “for she is thy queen, and men commonly do well to have reverence for their superiors. Yet evil hath been known to have its servants in high places, for even amongst His dozen dearest Our Lord did find one traitor.”

  Now Accolon was yet assotted with Morgan la Fey, and his wits were clouded with his love for her, and therefore he did not understand the burden of King Arthur’s speech, and he feared that it was he whom Arthur believed treasonous.

  “Sire,” said he, “I hold treason in the greatest abomination, and I should willingly submit myself to the torture in proof of this.”

  “Accolon,” said King Arthur, “I believe thee absolutely. Nor do we practice torture nowadays in Britain or in our vassalages. ’Tis an outmoded means, to seek the truth through pain, and justice is better served avoiding cruelty.”

  But this was still another thing which Sir Accolon, not being of the Round Table, could not understand. “Great Arthur,” said he, “is not King Mark of Cornwall a vassal of your own? It is well known that he shall soon put to the torture none other than his queen Isold, on suspicion of adultery with Sir Tristram of Lyonesse.”

  Now King Arthur was made full sore by these news, and for a congeries of reasons, foremost amongst them being his suspicion that Isold and Tristram were guilty of this crime, for so went the gossip, and it was impossible to forget a vile thing once one heard it, which was why he so detested scandalmongering: was any good served by men’s knowledge of such a sin? (For never was it hidden from God!) And then Arthur was reminded as well that Sir Tristram was a knight of the Table, and finally that Mark, who was self-elevated from duke to king, had never yet sent him a pledge of fealty.

  And yet perhaps it was Mark’s use of trial by torture which offended King Arthur most, for this displayed a difference of principle of more profound significance than these other matters. And though he now rebuked Accolon, and said, “Sir, we can not suffer thee, a knight, to speak of kingly matters,” he privately believed that the time had come when he must march on Cornwall, for there was nothing which King Arthur saw as more heinous than torture, and he believed that by its use the one who imposed it became necessarily more evil than he to whom it was applied. (And never was a prisoner taken by the knights of the Round Table: all enemies were pardoned if they sued for mercy, else they were slain honestly.)

  Therefore King Arthur returned with Sir Accolon to the castle of Gore. And when she knew that her brother was yet alive Morgan la Fey had more hatred of him than ever, but fortunately he soon returned to Camelot, for if he had not, this wicked woman would have made more attempts on his life.

  Now when King Arthur had gone Morgan la Fey called Sir Accolon to her, saying she would know what had happened. And when he told her she made him great praise, saying, “Thou art as wise as thou art brave and handsome, sweet Accolon, for surely it would have been a great misfortune to have slain my dear brother King Arthur, and I love you for preserving him.”

  And though Sir Accolon had told her that but for the hole in the ground into which his horse had stepped he should indeed have killed the king, he was so assotted with her beauty that he believed her artful corruption of the true state of affairs.

  “Now,” said she, “I would that thou ride after Arthur and present him with this gift from me, the which I had intended to give him while he stayed at Gore, but he went away too soon.”

  And to Accolon she gave a rich mantle of silk on which were sewn so many precious gems set so closely each on each that the cloth beneath them could not be seen. “And when thou dost return again to Gore, thy reward shall be even more priceless than this, for I love thee dearly.” And once again Morgan la Fey kissed Accolon in a warm manner which was not seemly between a queen and her knight, and Accolon forgot utterly to think about what King Arthur had asked him, namely why Morgan la Fey had had possession of Excalibur.

  And furthermore this wicked queen now told him that King Uriens was very old and that he could not live much longer, and she intimated that when Uriens was dead she must needs find a new husband and that someone very like Sir Accolon would suit her perfectly. And then she said that because King Uriens would die soon anyway, it were no crime but merely an anticipation of the natural event, and really a kindness, if he were not suffered to linger in misery but rather swiftly despatched.

  Now because of her persuasion, the which was honeyed to disguise its venom, the foolish Sir Accolon might well have been induced to murder King Uriens, did not that monarch return from his hunt at this very moment and in great joy, for his hounds had found a splendid stag and his archers had killed it. And seeing the king roar so joyfully, Sir Accolon decided he was not so ill at the moment that killing him would serve the good. (For Accolon though assotted was basically a decent knight.)

  Therefore he took the mantle and he went towards Camelot, for to present it to King Arthur with the compliments of Morgan la Fey his loving sister.

  Now Arthur had reached Camelot some hours earlier, and when he got there he had sent for Guinevere, for the matter of Tristram and Isold was weighing on his mind, and as yet he was not certain what he should do about it. And though he had at first believed that he must go to Cornwall with an army to compel Mark to swear fealty to him and hence perform according to Arthurian principles of merciful justice, he now considered that Mark’s neglect of his obligations as vassal might have been due to his having been distracted by the criminal congress between his queen and his nephew.

  And Arthur wished to speak of this matter with Guinevere, for he knew Sir Tristram to be a man of worship without a previous reputation for lechery, the chief mark of which appetite was the need for a succession of women, whereas Tristram was devoted to this one: and therefore the problem was love and not mere lust, which was to say, a feminine and not a virile matter. And thus King Arthur had the rare need for the counsel of Guinevere.

  But the varlet he had sent to fetch her could find her nowhere, not at her chambers nor in the garden.

  “Well,” said King Arthur when the boy returned with these news, “then she doth ride abroad attended by the faithful Launcelot as is her wont on these clement afternoons.” And he sent the varlet without the walls to look for her.

  Now this boy eventually came to the royal orchards the which had been cultivated under Sir Kay’s direction, and it was the time of year when the trees were heavy with pippins and peaches and pears, and distracted by hunger this varlet picked him a lovely peach (which was illegal to do, and would have earned him a thrashing had he been seen by Kay or his staff), and he sate him down under a tree for to eat this fruit.

  And whilst he was doing this he heard some soft gasps coming from not far away and rising with his peach he went to a near-by tree, where first he came upon a lady’s clothing strewn on the earth and then that of a knight, and under the fruit-laden branches of this tree, which were so heavy that they came down as a screen on all sides, this page saw the heaving of the beast-with-two-backs, and this being a domesticated breed and not savage except to its own constituent parts, he observed its antics for a while, for he was but fourteen years old and he was curious to learn of the animal husbandry which lay in store for him as a man. But he could not see the twin faces of the creature, for they were obscured by the hair, the which was respectively gold and sable.

  Then the varlet finished eating his peach, and thinking he might well be punished if detected at his observation, he dropped the stone and crept away. (And finding a secret place he polluted himself, the which he duly confessed on his next peccavi.)

  Now it was not so much later that coming out from under the plum-tree, on their way to find their horses, which had been tethered at the edge of the orchard, Guinevere and Launcelot did pass where this fresh peach-stone lay, and Sir Launcelot saw it, and he knew it as evidence that they had been observed.

  And he said, “Lady, we are undone.”

  But though Guinevere did pale on seeing the wet red stone she
never lost command of herself. “Well,” said she, “I do not think the testimony of a peach-poacher would soon bring me to the stake. ’Tis illegal to pick fruit here without the order of Sir Kay, and even those who do the picking at his sanction are not allowed to eat ought but bruised fruits, and then they are forbidden to discard the stones here. Ergo, who ate this peach did so without the law, and as himself a miscreant, will never accuse his betters who are observed at other foibles.”

  And Sir Launcelot was once again amazed, and not only with Guinevere’s quick wit but also at her self-righteousness, the which he supposed instinctive with royalty.

  And he asked gently, “Is what we do then even less harmful than stealing the king’s peaches?”

  Now once her clothes were on her majestic body Guinevere was ever haughty with Sir Launcelot, nor was she altogether complaisant with them off, and because of this he felt at once less guilty of crime (for she was the queen and he but a knight) and more (for she was the consort of his king): which was to say he could neither defy her nor go without defying all that he believed in. And therefore indeed he was in love, and in the degree to which he was a lover he had become spiritually an eunuch.

  “Yea,” proudly said Guinevere, “a peach from this orchard is the king’s property. He who takes it is a thief!”

  “And hath Launcelot not stolen something?” asked the same.

  “Nay!” cried Guinevere. “It is not a thing, and he did not take but rather was taken!”

  And here her champion did stop and kneeling before her he said, “Majesty, accept the obeisance and abasement of your most miserable of lackeys.”

  And all of this had happened many times before, but now Guinevere was peculiarly irked, and she extended her slipper, saying, “Wretch, kiss my foot.”

  “Nay!” cried Sir Launcelot, now suddenly vexed himself (and with himself). “I shall not, for when doth the sword serve the scabbard?” Yet he did not rise.

  “Dost refuse a royal command, Sir Froward?” asked the queen.

  “Never,” said Sir Launcelot. “And I continue to kneel to the queen but not to a spiteful woman.”

  “Well,” said Guinevere, “they can not be separated, and therefore thou shalt die for this impossibility of discrimination. Thy blade, sir!” And she held her delicate white hand towards him.

  Now Sir Launcelot drew his sword and he gave it her by the handles, and he said, “Madam, then be pleased to strike off mine head.”

  And the queen took his sword, the which was long and heavy, and she hardly could raise it, so massive it was. But a queen hath strengths which are more than physical, and Guinevere with the finest and whitest hands in the world (the which had lately done more gentle work) lifted the sword over Sir Launcelot’s head, and only God knows whether she would have brought it down upon him in the next moment.

  But at just that time the page came back through that part of the orchard and seeing her he said, “Lady, the king doth require you.”

  And Guinevere dropped the sword to the ground, saying, “Well, we are all subjects.”

  Now Sir Launcelot picking up his sword returned it to his scabbard, and then he shamed himself by addressing the little varlet in this wise: “Boy,” said he, “the queen would show with my sword how she could knight a man were she the king. And so I knelt before her in the interests of this demonstration.”

  “My lord,” said the page bowing.

  But the queen with flashing eyes said, “Nay, varlet, Sir Launcelot doth jest! I was about to strike off his head for contumacy.”

  And the page did understand nought of this, for his wits were confused so to be addressed by such high personages, he who otherwise received commands only, and he went to find their horses and to help them to mount. And when they rode back to the castle this varlet walked behind, and in his lowly situation he could never think that these were the two people whom he had seen swyving like goats any more than he could believe that angels did come together carnally.

  Now Launcelot could not forbear from saying to Guinevere as they rode together, “So hath the king returned untimely. Therefore we were wise to go without the castle.”

  “To be found by this boy?” asked Guinevere. “Whereas when Arthur stays in residence, thou dost come to my chambers. I have told thee that the nearer, the safer.”

  “Perhaps I can not explain it,” said Sir Launcelot, “but with the king away it seemeth peculiarly indecent to use his castle for this.”

  “Canst thou not,” asked the queen, “think of anything in our love but the squalor of it?” And she began this question in anger, but she ended it in tears.

  And Sir Launcelot turned to look whether the page was close enough to see, but he had now been left far behind.

  Then he said to her, “Lady, God forgive us! For what we do hath never become less wrong.”

  And Guinevere then cried in awful blasphemy, “God damn thee to Hell, Launcelot. I would see thee nevermore!” And she rode swiftly away from him on her palfrey.

  And while he could easily have overtaken her on his Arab charger, he did not, and he prayed to God to pardon her terrible oath, and he furthermore asked that all sins committed by them together be his burden and not hers, for he was a man and she but a weak woman like unto the first who had fallen to the temptation of the apple. And in the depths of his heart Launcelot knew great relief that their friendship was over, and that he could now return to the monastery of the Little Brothers of Poverty and Pain and for the rest of his life atone for the breaking of his vow of chastity.

  For though he had loved her greatly, at no time was the joy comparable to the sorrow and the shame of it.

  Now when Guinevere came to King Arthur he greeted her and he said, “I would have your thoughts upon the Cornish matter.”

  “My lord,” said Guinevere, “you are soon returned from Gore.”

  “Yea,” said the king, “I am sorely troubled by these news from Tintagel, where Mark would try La Belle Isold by torture for adultery. Now though this be not your proper concern, Guinevere, there are political consequences, and Ireland (an unruly king) will mount a host against Cornwall, I fear, and Mark is my vassal though unacknowledged by himself. And though I detest war I shall not suffer an invasion of my realm once again by the savage Irish. Therefore methinks I must go to Cornwall first and reduce Mark to his proper place, and to deliver Isold from the fire. Yet if she hath been guilty of this criminal trespass against the office of her husband (who if not royal except by self-anointing doth rule Cornwall), she must be tried, must she not? And if justly impugned, with proof, then banished. Or, think you, better sent to a nunnery?”

  “My lord,” said Guinevere, “I believe that I do lack authority to form such an opinion.”

  “Well, my dear Guinevere,” said King Arthur, “I am of course not obliged to act upon your judgment, but I would hear your thoughts, for you are yourself a queen and a woman (and in those, though in no other way, God forfend! like unto Isold). And while the disposition of this matter be a kingly and male thing, the crime, if committed, is feminine.”

  “So be it,” said Guinevere.

  “Look you,” said King Arthur, “’twould be otherwise if Isold were but a noblewoman and Sir Tristram were rather a royal person (as he is by birth, to be sure, but he doth not rule in Cornwall), yet as it is these stations are reversed. A queen hath taken, as illegal lover, a knight!”

  “But if as queen she took another king?” asked Guinevere.

  “Yea,” said Arthur, “and right you are, Guinevere, ’tis the felonious adultery that should concern us, and not the relative ranks of those who practice it. Dear friend, this is just what I wanted from you.”

  “Well,” said Guinevere, “Sir Tristram is anyway a prince.”

  “Indeed, indeed,” said King Arthur, “as are they all, my foremost knights, Gawaine and his brothers, and Sir Launcelot.” And then he pondered for a moment, and he said, “Yet, withal, we do not know certainly whether this sinful liaison hat
h been instituted or is but the construction of malicious tongues. Methinks that Mark is a mean ruler, and that such a man hath meaner spirits around him. Sir Tristram hath ever been a knight of much worship, and only in such a company as the Round Table doth a man of prowess not inspire the envy of those nearby. Then Isold is a notable beauty, and a foreigner as well. Can plainer Cornishwomen forgive her for that?”

  “My lord,” said Guinevere, “no one can ever know certainly of privy things unless one be privy to them, and each man must decide alone how much evidence is necessary to establish a conviction.”

  “Well put, dear friend,” said King Arthur. “You have aided me greatly, for what I needed here was to hear mine own thoughts as they were reflected from another, but only from another whom I could trust absolutely to have no corrupting bias. Launcelot and Gawaine, for example, are Tristram’s friends and fellow-members of the Table, for one; and for another they neither of them would, or could, entertain the possibility that an otherwise honest queen were adulterous.”

  Now his audience with his wife having been concluded, King Arthur went to his throne room, and there he found Sir Accolon waiting for him.

  And when Sir Accolon had knelt and been recognized he rose and he gave to King Arthur the rich mantle he had brought from Gore.

  “With this gift your sister the fair Morgan la Fey sends her love to you, most royal Arthur,” said Accolon, “and she doth further command me to deliver these wishes with this coat: that you reign so long as you wear it, for it is sewn with the gems of immortality.”

  Now King Arthur was pleased that his sister would atone for her wicked and unnatural attempt on his life, and eager to think the best of her he even began to suppose that he had misunderstood the unhappy event at Gore. And yet the jeweled mantle was far too resplendent for his virile tastes, and therefore he did not put it on him, but seeing a lovely lady enter the court he called her to him and he asked her to put the coat of gems about her shoulders, and she came and did this.