When he rode near to the wall the knight saw a great double gate in which there was a small gate, in which there was a slat, and all of them closed, but overhead hung a bell with a rope dangling. He leaned from his saddle and clanged the bell. The slat snapped open and a small slab of bread sailed out and struck his shield and fell to the ground. He looked down on the gray and dusty bread, and perhaps because he had not eaten or rested, his temper flared and he reversed his spear and beat the gate with the butt until it roared with oaken protest.
The slat opened again and then the door opened and a small nun with a turtle's face stepped out, crying, "Pardon, my lord. I didn't know. I thought it were one of them thieving pilgrims that bedevil the hens and warrens so that we must set man-traps, God save us all, save them. Here, I'll open the gate to you, noble sir." She scrabbled the latches and swung open the gates, and Lancelot rode through without striking her or even laying a flat curse on her shoulders. And it wasn't long until he sat in a pleasant chamber with the abbess, a huge woman, cheeks bursting with tiny veins, a mouth like a split strawberry, and quiet, watchful eyes. She sent a covey of young nuns scurrying like fledgling grouse.
"Your damsel has not come," she said. "Or her father. But they will be welcome, and you can wait here for them. I'll have an apartment readied for you."
Lancelot's quiet servant reported to him that although she smiled she was not friendly.
"I owe my service to that damsel and to her father," he said. "She set me free from four evil enchantresses."
"Very good," she said. "Of course it would have been more suitable if you had applied to the Church."
"I would still be there, madame. The Church was not available."
"Still," she said, "it would have been proper. The Church is organized to do these things, to do many things. But of late we have seen things done and attempted which might well be left in our more practiced hands. It is not my habit to be obscure, sir. I refer to the knights errant presently swarming over the countryside claiming the king's warrant. No good will come of this. I hope you will report my words." She caressed her huge hands, each finger armed like a weapon with a stone-studded ring.
"I know about this," Lancelot said. "It serves several purposes. Keeps the young knights fit for war, teaches them justice, self-control, and the ways of government, stops petty rebellion, and what is crime but small rebellion? And last and perhaps most important, not only keeps the king's authority alive in far places, but informs the king himself of the health of the kingdom."
"So it may, sir," she said. "But it also interferes with those who have handled these matters for a long time. We are quite capable of hanging our own people. But when the collection of tithes, dues, and privileges is upset on grounds of justice, it not only upsets the balance but inspires unrest and even open rebellion. The king's government should not encourage changes unwanted by the people on whom they fall. There will be trouble, mind you. And you may tell the king I said so."
"But if the evils remain uncorrected, madame?"
"Understand," she said explosively, "I do not say the impulse is bad--only misguided. The knights are dealing with forces they do not understand. The best intentions in the world may have a hellish end. I could give you examples."
"But I must insist, madame, if the abuses are not corrected by the authorities in whose hands--"
"Now stop there, Sir Knight," she said, and her cold eyes closed their surfaces to him. "I do not think even the most irresponsible of the errant knights will deny that the world was created by God the Father."
"Certainly not, madame. Why, they even--"
"And all the things in it, sir?"
"Of course."
"Then can it not be that the removal of created things might be displeasing to God? You are going at it from the wrong direction. The evils of the world so called may well be put here to educate and chastise."
"My lady Abbess," he protested, "you must not think I would presume to argue with you on holy matters. That is unthinkable."
"Well," she said, "at last a little humility." She breathed heavily and her cheeks, which had grown fiery red, seemed to bubble and subside like a disturbed omelet.
"You would not object, my lady, if the questing knights limited themselves to dragons and giants and enchanters?"
She waved her hand in a sad gesture. "Life is hard and ugly enough as it is," she said. "Why must they search out unpleasant, ugly, evil things to shock and sadden us? What is wrong with good old-fashioned tournaments and jousts? They served our fathers very well."
A cloud of eager messengers buzzed in Lancelot's ears, and he heeded them and held his peace, knowing that he could arouse nothing but opposition in this well-defended mind. "Quite true," he said. "I see it now. I am sorry, madame."
At last she smiled at him with her strawberry mouth. "No harm done," she said. "No breakage of God's pots that can't be glued with a little penance."
Sir Lancelot felt only a sad sick sorrow, and he wished he were not ignorant. "I should go to rest, my lady," he said. "I fight on Tuesday next."
She clapped her hands. "I shall be there to see it," she cried. "Such a goodly company and proper military bearing. Last Tuesday fifty knights were slain. With your world-renowned arm in it, the next should be even better."
He went to his rest in the room prepared for him, confused and weary. He could not fight with anger against men he loved, and he loved too many. But when the trumpet blew, he could kill anyone or anything. He did not wish to wonder about that. For a short time a noise of pounding kept him wakeful, for they were replacing worn timbers on the gibbet by the chapel, for the abbey had manorial rights and duties as well as spiritual. But soon he drifted off and dreamed of Guinevere, cool-fingered queen, and in his dream he confirmed his service to her while he should live. And he dreamed she leaned over him, saying, "You can't remake the world. There's little enough you can do to remake yourself."
Then in his dream he saw himself with a scaffold about him. And he was taking out bricks from his neck and shoulders and replacing them with others, neatly mortared but new-looking. Even he knew this was funny and he laughed in his sleep.
Sir Bagdemagus came to the abbey followed by a cloud of mail-clad knights, surrounded with a butterfly swarm of lovely ladies. And when Sir Lancelot had been greeted and embraced and kissed, and after the tree of compliments had been stripped bare and the damsel's rescue told and retold while she stood blushing by, disparaging the celebration with little throwing gestures, then her father and Sir Lancelot went apart and Bagdemagus said, "I find no words to thank you for helping me next Tuesday."
"Your daughter told me, sir, that you were evil used."
"They banged me up," the knight said honestly. "I couldn't seem to get a spear point fastened. And now I have to meet the same champions and my bones are still sore from the beating they gave me."
"Is it true that some of King Arthur's knights turned the tournament against you?"
"That's true enough. They are fighting fiends. My heart quakes like a boy's when I think of meeting them again."
"What knights are they, sir?"
"Well, the leader is the King of North Galys."
"I know his wife," said Lancelot.
"She is not here. Gone on a pilgrimage to Our Lady of Walsingham. Then I suppose the most formidable were Sir Mador de la Porte, Sir Mordred, and Sir Galatine."
"Good men," said Lancelot. "But there is a difficulty. They won't fight me."
"Why not?"
"I beat them several times and they refused the lists with me. That's why I am on quest. I couldn't find opponents."
"That is bad news," Sir Bagdemagus said. "But if you come to the lists on my side and they refuse to close, they will lose by default. I'd rather have that kind of victory than none."
"Oh, they won't refuse," said Lancelot. "They never do. They'll be away on affairs or sick, or some oath will keep them out. I know how they do it. I'm sorry, sir. I'd like to have a do with Mo
rdred again. Never liked him. He's a sneaky one."
"Is it true he's the king's son?"
"That's the talk. You know what talk is in a court. If the king had as many sons as king's sons say, he'd have no time for ruling. You know the saw, 'If claiming princes rightly claim the sinister bar, then midwives were more busy than they are.' "
"How would it be if you wore a new device? Too many people know Sir Lancelot's shield."
"They're too smart for that. They'd watch an unknown knight behind the barrier and know me by the way I sit a horse. They are not fools." He tapped his temple with the little knife he wore to cut his meat. "Is there any cover near the lists, a copse or undergrowth?"
"Why yes--a grove of beech trees. Why?"
"Well, I thought if there were more than one strange knight it might confuse them and if, let us say, four of us should hide ourselves until after the trumpets, they could not withdraw. When the lists are blown, they are committed."
"That is true," Sir Bagdemagus said. "How many knights do you want?"
"Send me four of your best. I will make the fifth. And let there be five suits of white armor and white shields, with no device at all. They may think at first we are new men out to win a shield of arms."
"I will do it."
"And let me have them soon. I must instruct my knights and drill them so we may fight as a unit."
So it was done and quickly told.
On Tuesday, with ladies clustered in the stands like colored flies on a currant cake, Sir Mordred and his fellows led the van, fighting hard and dumping riders right and left, when suddenly from out of the little wood five white knights issued and struck like white lightning, and wheeled as a unit and struck again, and wheeled and struck. Then Lancelot joyfully engaged his special enemies. Sir Mador took the first fall and broke his hip. Then Sir Mordred, and he and saddle flew, and when he struck the earth his helmet buried itself to his shoulders. Then Galatine got such a head stroke that blood burst from his ears and nose and eyes, and his horse ran away with him over the horizon because he could not wipe his eyes to see which way to turn. Meanwhile, Lancelot toppled twelve knights with one spear, and took another spear, and accounted for twelve more, while his white companions, wild with triumph, fought better than they ever had before. There was no need to sound the trumpet of peace. Before it could be blown North Galys's men had departed and Sir Bagdemagus held both field and prize. And he laughed and shouted happily to find his honor mended and his fame increased.
He led Sir Lancelot to his own castle, talking the while and banging with his hand on his champion's back plate so that the clatter drowned his words. And at the castle gifts were given--horses, hounds, robes, jewels--and Bagdemagus raided the lexicon of compliments and encouraged his daughter to speak likewise. They begged Sir Lancelot to bide with them, to stay with them, to live with them all his life, and Lancelot, smiling, had to wait for hoarseness and exhaustion to make a pause in which he could insert his need to search for Lyonel, his nephew.
Then Bagdemagus offered to go himself, to send his daughter, his sons, the body of his retainers. He ordered Sir Lancelot's health drunk in metheglin and in those horns which must be drained because they will not stand. No one in the hall dared refuse, except only Lancelot, who said it made him sick.
And in the morning he rode away from a silent castle ruled by sleep and headache, commandeered by metheglin.
Lancelot did not believe he had come far from the apple tree where the adventures had begun. Wishing to search for Lyonel, he sought to return to the place where he had lost him. He found the Roman road and followed it, and on the way he came upon a damsel riding a white palfrey covered with a net and dangling red tassels to ward the flies in the manner of Andaluz.
"What cheer?" she asked in the accepted way.
"It will be better when I find my nephew, Sir Lyonel. He slipped away whilst I slept and he is lost."
"If he is your nephew, then you must be Sir Lancelot."
"Damsel, I am. Can you give me news of any fighting hereabouts?"
"Perhaps I can help you, sir," she said, and she observed him shrewdly. "There is a castle held by Sir Tarquin, the hardiest knight in all these parts. He wages a particular personal war 'gainst King Arthur's knights, and it is said he has killed some and taken over threescore prisoners with his own hands."
"He must be a good man with a spear."
"He is. And on his castle gate he has nailed up the shields of those he has taken."
"Ha!" cried Lancelot. "Is there a shield deviced with a rooster?"
"It seems to me I have seen it, sir, but there are many birds, animals, snakes, monsters not seen or heard of this side of Africa. I think a rooster."
"With spread wings--crowing?"
"I dare believe it, sir."
"Fair damsel, take me there of your gentle courtesy."
She valued him with her eyes and chose her words with care. "Were you other than you are I would not conduct you to your death," she said. "Nor would I ask a boon knowing you might survive. But you are Lancelot and I dare do both. When you have had your do with Sir Tarquin, will you promise me a service on your knightly word?"
"If I would not--would you conduct me?"
"I must search for a good knight to help me, sir."
"I see. It appears that there is no damsel in the world without a problem whose solution requires the jeopardy of my life."
"Have you not sworn service to damsels and gentlewomen?"
"I have indeed. But sometimes I wish I did not have to honor my oath so often."
"We are helpless creatures," she said primly, "relying on men's strong arms."
"I wish I were so helpless," said Lancelot. "Very well, my dear, I promise on my honor. Lead the way."
In an hour's time she brought him to a walled and gated manor house beside a stream. And on the closed gate he found Lyonel's shield. A large brass basin hung by a chain from a tree to serve as an alarm. Then Sir Lancelot beat the basin to clamor with his spear, but the gates remained closed and the house silent. He watered his horse at the stream and returned and struck the brass again, and he rode back and forth before the gate, growing more angry.
"Perhaps he is away," the damsel said. "He sometimes lies in wait beside the great road."
"You appear to know him well."
"I do, sir. Everyone does. He does no harm to ladies, only to Arthur's knights."
Lancelot said crossly, "Why not ask him to undertake your quest?"
"He does no service to ladies either," she said.
"He is perhaps wiser than I am," said Lancelot furiously, and he went to the basin and struck it with such force that the bottom flew out of it.
"No need to lose your temper, sir," the damsel said. "He will return and he has never refused a fight. I think I see him coming yonder."
Sir Tarquin came riding fast, driving before him a war horse on which a wounded knight lay bound. And on the shield hanging from the saddle bow, Lancelot made out the device of Sir Gaheris, Gawain's brother.
Tarquin drew up, seeing an armed man before his house, and his ruined basin swinging in the wind.
"Fair knight," said Lancelot, "put that wounded man to the earth to rest a while. I am told that you have a slight distaste for knights of the Round Table."
"If you are of that cursed fellowship you are well met," Sir Tarquin cried.
"It is pleasant to be welcomed," Lancelot said, and he took his place, and the two met with such equal force and precision that both horses were forced to the earth.
Then on foot they fought with swords and equally, giving and taking wounds until their breath was gone and by silent accord they rested, leaning on their swords. And when he could speak, Sir Tarquin said, "You are the best knight, the strongest and best winded I ever met, and my admiration goes out to you. I would rather you were friend than enemy. There is only one man in the world I cannot forgive."
"It is pleasant to have a friend. Who is the knight you hate?"
"It seems a sad and silly thing to use war against associates. Why do you not seek out Lancelot? I don't think he would refuse you satisfaction."
Tarquin said, "Sooner or later he will come to me, and I would rather fight him on home ground and hang his shield on my gate above all the others. But forget all that. Let us make peace and dine as brothers."
Lancelot said, "It is an attractive offer to a weary man. But, sir, if you had as much heraldry as hate, you would have observed my shield."
Then Tarquin gasped. "You are Lancelot?"
"It is recorded in the church at Benwick, my erstwhile brother, Lancelot of the Lake, son of King Ban and Queen Elaine. I can elaborate the family tree if you wish."
Tarquin said thickly, "Welcome you are," and he raised his sword and rushed to combat. There was no resting now, for this man was dedicated to the death of his opponent and he did not cease but charged and struck and crowded in, seeking an opening.
The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights Page 27
