Arthur Rex

by Thomas Berger

  Now this lady was marvelously beautiful in the mantle, but she soon did frown while wearing it. And to her she called Sir Accolon, and to him she said, “The weight of these rare jewels is too heavy for me to bear. It wants the broad shoulders of a brave and loyal knight, who is much loved by a queen.”

  And Sir Accolon in his vanity happily permitted her to put the mantle on him, and he smiled at King Arthur and he believed that one day soon he might be his brother-in-law.

  But then the coat burst into hot flames and he was soon burned to ashes within it. For what had seemed lovely gems were really incendiary stones the which the wicked Morgan la Fey had sewn onto the mantle for the purpose of burning King Arthur alive.

  Now King Arthur knew great anguish. And the beautiful lady came to him and she said, “This foolish knight hath received his just deserts, for he might else have been induced through his ambition and his lust to become a regicide.”

  “Who art thou,” asked King Arthur, “to have saved my life?”

  “Thy friend of old, Arthur,” said the Lady of the Lake (for it was she), “who furnished thee with Excalibur and who hath so many times provided instruction for thy knights, and who can protect thee from the grosser harms such as this, but who can give you no immunity to the subtler poisons undreamt of by Morgan la Fey.”

  And King Arthur lowered his head, on which there were already many gray hairs, but when he raised it again to thank her, she was gone.

  And when Morgan la Fey heard of her latest failure to kill King Arthur she went into a fury, and she stole into the chambers of her husband King Uriens and sought to put him to death while he lay sleeping, but a loyal maidservant saw her and warned Sir Uwaine, the son of King Uriens by his first wife who had died, and Uwaine did obstruct his wicked stepmother from committing this crime. And subsequently Morgan la Fey was banished (for King Uriens was too kind to burn her, and anyway he wished only to go a-hunting), and she went into the wilds where she lived with her evil nephew Mordred and all the birds and all the animals did void that place, and even the trees withered and died thereabout.

  BOOK XIII

  Of Sir Tristram and La Belle Isold; and how King Mark discovered their love.

  NOW KING ARTHUR WOULD mount his expedition against Cornwall, but before he could do so the news came to him that the trial of Queen Isold had already taken place.

  For La Belle Isold and Sir Tristram had continued to meet in the congress of adulterous love for so long a time that it was not secret to anyone at Tintagel except King Mark, and he was oft told of it by the vile dwarf Frocin, who however could never provide evidence for his accusations. And every trap laid by this dwarf was evaded by Sir Tristram, often unknowingly. And lying in wait to catch him in criminal association with Isold, Mark was ever frustrated. And once Frocin mounted a ladder placed against the wall of the castle and climbed it to peer through a window into the royal bedchamber and after seeing the miscreants close-coupled within, he came down to the waiting king. And then Mark himself climbing the ladder, the which was stout enough to bear the weight of a dwarf, it collapsed under him and he fell to the ground breaking an arm and a leg.

  And after this happened Mark in impulsive fury had Frocin beheaded, the which he later regretted because he would rather have tortured him to death slowly.

  But then King Mark began to get anonymous notes from other informants, and he was told therein just what the late Frocin had insisted upon: that he was a marvelous cuckold, on whom the horns had been put by his own nephew. Therefore he began to suspect that there was more in this than the malignancy of a monstrous dwarf.

  But Mark could not understand how Isold could take Tristram into her bed when he himself slept beside her all the night, and during the day he kept her under observation at all times. But then finally one time when Isold brought to him the supposed aphrodisiac he had drunk every night during the years since their wedding (for he had got older and he believed he needed it even more than at the outset: yet as we know all his swyving had been done only in fantasy), it occurred to him that this potion might be otherwise than it had been represented, which was to say, that it did not stiffen his yard but rather put him into a sleep so like that of the dead that he knew not what he did when under its influence.

  Therefore to test the truth of this possibility he spurned the glass now, and fortunate it was that Isold observed his failure to drink thereof, and she spoke to him of this.

  “’Tis no forgetfulness, chuck,” said King Mark, rolling up his nightshirt to reveal his yellowed privities and the white hairs on his protuberant belly. “Thine ardent labors shall stir me more than potions.” And he commanded her to come and minister to him.

  But begging his pardon for a short delay for to anoint herself with scented emollients, La Belle Isold went rather to an antechamber where she found the loyal Brangwain. And to her handmaiden she spake as follows.

  “My dear Brangwain,” said she, “it seems that the king will not drink of thy potion this night.”

  “Alas, my lady,” said Brangwain, “then whatever shall be done?” And she was greatly dismayed, for this good woman was altogether devoted to the lady she had served since their girlhoods.

  “Well,” said Isold, “I have conceived of a plan that will suffice but only if we carry it out with great care, and it is this: that whilst I go in to Mark and distract him by taking off my robe before his eyes, thou shalt enter and secrete thyself behind a screen. Then when I have extinguished the tapers, we shall, thou and I, exchange places: which is to say, I shall go behind the screen and thou shalt come out from it and enter into the bed.”

  “With the king?” asked Brangwain in wonder.

  “With himself,” said La Belle Isold.

  “And then submit myself to his embraces?” asked the loyal Brangwain.

  “I fear thou must,” said Queen Isold. “I see no alternative, good my Brangwain. Else I shall be the prey of that foul old man, and thou must agree that that were unthinkable.”

  “Indeed, my lady,” said Brangwain, “such a beastly thing must never happen.” Nevertheless she could not forbear from weeping gently.

  “Well, Brangwain,” said La Belle Isold, “was it not thee who fed me not the poison for which I begged, but rather the decoction of love?”

  And Brangwain agreed that this had been the case, and she said, “Would that I had time now to brew me some potion the which would numb my conscience.”

  “Think thou,” said Isold, “of the worthiness of the cause.”

  “I shall, my lady,” said Brangwain. But then she said, “Is there not some difference between us in figure?” (For she was sufficiently robust that standing behind her Isold could not have been seen.) “Can the king be long insensible to the distinction, even in the dark?”

  “Brangwain, my dear,” said the fair Isold, “be assured that my performance in preparing for bed before his eyes will so heat this old man as to confuse his senses utterly and to render him incapable of entertaining any thought but to satisfy his inordinate lust.”

  And poor Brangwain did shudder at this indelicate speech of Isold’s, for she was yet a maiden, and she had intended to remain so forever (feeling no desire for any man but Sir Tristram, whom she could never have).

  Now telling her to wait and to watch through a crack of the door until King Mark’s attention was occupied, La Belle Isold went back into the bedchamber and standing where the tapers would light her to the best advantage she slowly and with provocative motions of her body began to lower her nightdress, the which was of white sendal (though not as smooth and white as her alabaster skin). But when her bosom had been bared to the rosy paps she stopped, and she had with her a flask of scented oil and from it she poured fine drops of this fragrant oil onto her breasts, the which she then caressed and manipulated slowly.

  And this display did cause King Mark to moan in lascivious delight and to slap his old belly and his withered thighs. And whilst he was so occupied, the loyal Brangwain discreetl
y entered the chamber and she hid herself behind the screen.

  Now knowing that her handmaiden was in place, Isold made shorter work of what remained of her disrobing, and gathering her dress below her ivory navel and at no time revealing her flanks she did pursing her orchid lips and leaning first this way, then that, blow out the candles. And then she slipped quickly behind the screen while Brangwain came slowly out from it and went towards the bed as if it were a gallows.

  And no sooner had Brangwain entered the bed than the king did hurl himself upon her brutally, but being old and mean of body his assault was not so puissant as she had feared, and she was a most sturdy Irishwoman, and he but writhed upon her like a child at play. And when he sought to do more, Brangwain in defense of her maidenhead (and without thought) smote him between the eyes with her robust fist, and King Mark swooned.

  Then she did fear what she had done, thinking she had killed him, and while that would be an occasion for much joy for Isold and Tristram, they would nevertheless be constrained to burn her for the crime of regicide, for which there was no justification on earth or in Heaven.

  So did poor Brangwain lie sleepless with the supposed corse till dawn (for Isold had fled to Tristram), but when the first light came through the windows she saw that the king did but slumber, and happily, for he was smiling.

  And shortly thereafter La Belle Isold returned, and she silently motioned for Brangwain to leave, which the loyal handmaiden did with great relief, but also with a marvelous new fear, for now that Mark lived he would soon awaken and remember that his bed-partner had knocked him senseless.

  But as it happened, when the king awakened he was ecstatic, and he cried to Isold, who surely stood too far from the bed for him to reach, “My Irish tigress! Never have I known thee more ardent than thou wert last night! Nor may I say, never have I answered thy passion with even more. Indeed, I was quite out of my wits!” And in his horrid vanity he crowed and cackled, and he wished now that he had not killed Frocin, and he determined to get himself another dwarf to boast to, for a royal personage could speak on these intimate matters to none other.

  Therefore was all well at the moment: with the king believing that his wife was his alone, and Isold and Tristram able to meet with impunity, and even the loyal Brangwain retained her virginity (the which was precious to her, being all she possessed of her own). And King Mark soon went away from Tintagel, for to hunt wild boars, and he invited Sir Tristram his nephew to accompany him (the boar being the very device which that great knight wore famously upon his shield).

  But Sir Tristram wishing to stay near Isold declined, and he pretended that he was ill from the old wounds he had got years before from the Morholt, and therefore the king took along the second knight of Cornwall, he who hated Tristram, and he was named Guenelon.

  Now this Guenelon knowing that so soon as King Mark had left Tintagel, Isold and Tristram would come together, did as if by accident separate himself from the king’s party on the chase, and he rode back to the castle as fast as his horse would go. And when he arrived there he stole quietly to the royal bedchambers by a secret passage known to few, and therefore he eluded the watch of the loyal Brangwain, who served as Cerberus at the main door. And from behind a tapestry he saw the adulterous couple compounding their crime.

  Then he left as silently as he had come, and he rode swiftly back to find King Mark, and he told him of what he had seen.

  And King Mark thereupon returned to Tintagel in great haste, but Brangwain from her window saw the dust of his gallop and when he drew near she identified the rider. Therefore she pounded upon the door of the bedroom and she cried a warning, and Sir Tristram leapt from the bed and seizing his clothes he did leave by means of the balcony and he went down the vines and into the garden, where the gardeners saw him run bare and did marvel at it.

  Now when King Mark burst into the chamber La Belle Isold was not there, and furthermore Brangwain had hastily made the bed, but so exercised was the king that he tore away the coverlet and the sheets, and he felt there with his hand, and indeed it was still warm. And he went to the balcony and looking down he saw the torn vines. Therefore he had the gardeners brought to him, and he questioned them closely. But these fellows, not being noblemen, held Sir Tristram in great fondness, for he always had been kind to them, and they would not betray him now, and they showed great courage in this because the king threatened to break them on the wheel.

  “Well,” said he in marvelous wrath, “then tell me why these vines are fresh-broken!”

  “Well,” said these gardeners, “the mason came there with a ladder, for to inspect the walls for cracks which needed mortaring, and his ladder did slip and tear away some leaves.”

  “Methinks ye do not need eyes which see false things,” said King Mark, “and therefore I shall have them torn out.”

  And he would have had this done had not La Belle Isold come to him at that moment, and she begged him not to be cruel to these poor fellows.

  “Very well,” said King Mark, “but I must force the truth from someone, for I think that it will never be freely given me. Shalt thou then submit to the test of hot iron?”

  And La Belle Isold said proudly, “I shall.”

  Therefore King Mark ordered that the preparations be made for this ordeal.

  Now Isold went to Brangwain and she said, “Good my Brangwain, I would that thou compound for me some ointment the which I might put upon my hands to make them impervious to hot iron, so that I might withstand this test.”

  “Lady,” said Brangwain, “I shall try to do this.” And she proceeded to mix divers unguents from various ingredients such as the saliva of dragons (the which surviveth the flames that shoot from the mouths of those beasts) and the blood of the salamander who liveth in the heart of the fire, &tc., but when she rubbed these emollients into the palms of her hands and applied to them a red-hot poker she was burned sorely, for none of her compounds did turn away the heat.

  And the loyal Brangwain was in great grief owing to these failures, for she believed her lady would be given the lie in the ordeal of hot iron and that she would then be burned at the stake for adultery.

  Now Sir Tristram was in hiding, and he could not come out of it without being attacked by the many knights which King Mark had posted to guard the castle against him, and though he could have overcome them all, to fight would be but an admission of his own guilt and that of the queen, and therefore he determined to wait until the last moment before delivering Isold from the ordeal, should God meanwhile bring some other relief which would not compromise her. (For Sir Tristram was a devout knight, and though he knew that what he and Isold did was never right, he believed they were helpless to desist from doing it so long as they lived, and they must needs answer for it when they died. And so much did he love her that he would face Hell without bitterness.)

  And he lay concealed in the hovel of a churl whom he had befriended in the past, and he ate the gruel on which this boor and his family subsisted, the which was prepared by the good wife, who was of the age of Isold but in aspect seemed almost a crone, and he was kind to the many children there, who were at play in the mud.

  Then on the day set for the ordeal Sir Tristram hired from this clown his host some of his ragged clothes and he put them on over his armor, and he hung a wooden cross on a thong about his neck. And he whitened his hair with chalk-dust, and when he walked limping and bent over he looked very like an hermit, and in this guise he went towards the place where the test of hot iron was to be held, the which was on a plain across the river.

  And reaching the ford he waited there, where it was not long before a great procession came from the castle, with all the knights of Cornwall and all the ladies and the chaplains and the squires, and all the noble people. And then came King Mark, and lastly the bishop of Cornwall with his retainers who carried a bronze brazier in which the coals were already white-hot.

  And all of these rode through the ford and onto the far bank before Isold appeared
. And when finally she did come she was dressed in flawless white samite and her glistening black hair was caught behind with one gold clasp and it fell to her waist, and she slowly rode a pure-white palfrey. And attending her was the loyal Brangwain, who rode a donkey six paces behind.

  Now they were all drawn up upon the meadow, and there they awaited her, but when Isold reached the ford she asked Brangwain to ride into the river to see how high the water reached, and when Brangwain did so she was wetted to the waist, and only the ass’s head was out of the river.

  “Well,” said La Belle Isold, “I would not wet my clothes going to my ordeal.”

  Now Sir Tristram lingered there in his hermit’s guise, and coming to La Belle Isold he said, “Lady, I shall carry you across the ford if you will.”

  And her heart leapt, for she knew him for what he was, and he took her from the palfrey and he carried her across the river, high in his arms so that no drop of water reached her, and then he put her onto the bank.

  “Thank you, kind hermit,” said Isold when she had regained her feet, and then stately she walked to where the smoking brazier stood, and near by was a table covered with a cloth of red velvet, the which was fringed in gold, and on this were all the holy relics of the land of Cornwall, and the bishop was there in his miter. And lackeys using bellows made the coals ever hotter until they were white, and into them they put a rod of iron.

  Meanwhile the common folk had come out from the town, and they stood on the bank of the river, for they were not suffered to come closer. And they never quite understood the purpose of the ordeal, but they were entertained by it.

  Now the iron was soon as white-hot as the coals in which it was embedded, and the bishop asked Isold to come before him, and then he said, “My lady, gracious queen of Cornwall, how do you swear?”