Most of the Britons remained with Yvain, while Lancelot and Lionel, sparsely accompanied, rode on. Their enemies were so frantic to escape that many lost their way and drowned in the marshes, while large numbers of others, crowding onto the causeway that led to Saxon Rock, were trampled by their comrades. Lancelot, far in the lead on his swift horse, was about to charge into the struggling throng, when Lionel arrived and desperately tried to turn him back. Already a large crowd of Saxons had turned around to see the one man advancing against their army. Their terror was so great that they froze in place, but Lionel seized the bridle of Lancelot’s horse. Furious, Lancelot made him let go and spurred forward. But when Lionel shouted at him to stop “in the name of the queen! Don’t throw away your life!” Lancelot reined in his horse and stood still.
Yvain and his men were just reaching the causeway, but, numerous as they were, he judged it imprudent to pursue the enemy further along that narrow road. Lancelot, however, rode away alone, greatly distressed by being forced to withdraw. On the other side of Saxon Rock, facing the British camp, he found an entrance protected by a magic wall of air. Powerful against enchantments, his shield enabled him to ride straight through. Once inside, he continued on horseback through room after empty room until he came to the great hall where many men were hastily arming themselves, having heard about the defeat of their allies. Lancelot galloped into their midst, and the few who escaped were barely able to take refuge inside the stone tower.
Covered with blood, on foot and with sword in hand, Lancelot searched the castle until he found Gamille in the arms of her lover, now doomed. Slaying the man, he seized the lady, threatening to cut her throat unless she took him to where the king and the other prisoners were being held. He also forced her to open a storeroom full of weapons.
King Arthur had no idea to whom he owed his sudden liberation. He and Guerrehet hastened to arm themselves, and went with Lancelot to free Galehaut and Gawain. Galehaut, however, refused to take part in their rejoicing, saying that he had no desire to fight, no reason to live, since Lancelot was dead.
“Ah, my dear friend, you are wrong! I am here!” The young knight took off his helmet, and Galehaut rushed to embrace him.
Gawain turned to the king, saying, “My lord, this is the knight we have sought so long – the Red Knight and then the Black! He is Lancelot of the Lake, the man who made the peace with Galehaut.”
Arthur fell at Lancelot’s feet, and said, “My lord, henceforth my life, my honor, and my lands are in your power, since I owe them all to you.” Lancelot, with tears in his eyes, raised him up. The king should not kneel before him. Besides, there was more to do.
They made their way to the tower. The knights inside refused to open the door, but when Lancelot threatened to kill their lady, they agreed to surrender, provided the king let them go free. Arthur consented, and soon his banner flew in triumph over Saxon Rock. The sight was an immense relief to those in the British camp, and especially to the queen who had believed that Lancelot must be dead. She had nearly died herself, so great was her anguish.
Soon all the knights were racing toward the fortress. There Sir Kay discovered a maiden who had spent the last three years in irons, for the crime of having made Gamille jealous. On being released, however, the girl seemed anxious rather than jubilant. She pressed the seneschal to tell her whether Gamille was still in the castle. “My lord,” she urged him, “you must destroy her books of magic! With them she can make water flow uphill! Your triumph would be for naught.” She showed Kay a chest full of strangely inscribed books and some loose pages that bore characters and signs he had never seen before. He hauled the sinister load to a parapet high in the fortress and burned it without a moment’s hesitation. Gamille, discovering her irreplaceable volumes reduced to ashes, ran to the edge of the parapet and hurled herself to the ground below. To her lasting shame, she did not die, but lived out her life grotesquely crippled. King Arthur, saddened by her plight and still in thrall to her beauty, did not cease to love her.
So Saxon Rock was taken. Sir Gawain warned the king that he risked losing Lancelot once again, if he didn’t take care, because “Galehaut is more possessive of him than a knight with a beautiful lady, and he will want to take him away.”
The victorious knights gathered in the great hall of the castle. The queen arrived, and everyone ran to greet her, but she went straight to Lancelot and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. She intended by this to show that there was nothing improper between them, and all who saw her gesture honored her for it. But Lancelot felt troubled. Sensing this, she said in a voice that all could hear, “My lord knight, I regret that I do not know who you are, nor how I can reward you for your deeds today. You have saved the king’s honor and my own, and for your perfect loyalty, I grant you my true love.”
The king thought she could not have spoken better. Guenevere went to offer words of praise to the other knights in the hall, and then she told how she had found the unknown knight raving mad, and how he had been made well by one who was called the Lady of the Lake.
“My lady,” said the king, “the name of this knight is Lancelot, and it is he we have been seeking for so long! It is he who won the day in my two battles with Galehaut.”
The queen looked convincingly astonished, so much so that even Gawain was almost taken in. She listened with delight while Yvain told how Lancelot’s prowess had defeated the Saxon hordes. “We had hoped for reinforcements, but even with the two hundred men we lacked we would never have won the victory this one knight achieved all by himself!”
“How could I not prize him over all other knights!” exclaimed the king. “He rescued me from captivity, and won for me the very fortress that cost me so much suffering!”
Galehaut spoke quietly to Lancelot. “My dear friend,” he said, with a deep sigh, “the time has come when I must lose you.”
“How is that, my lord?”
“What shall I do when the king asks you to join the Round Table? You are all the world to me, and you know that I am yours, in heart and soul.”
“You are the worthiest man I have ever seen or known, and my love is wholly yours. Why would I want to join King Arthur’s household?”
“But if the queen asked. . . ?”
“I would refuse her if I could.”
“We both know that would be impossible.”
That evening, the king took Guenevere aside and told her that he wanted to keep Lancelot beside him as a knight of the Round Table.
“You must ask Galehaut if he will allow that, my lord,” she answered, “since Lancelot and he are sworn companions.”
So Arthur put his proposal to Galehaut, who replied that he had subordinated his own interests to the king’s for the love of Lancelot, “and now, if you take him from me, you will be taking my life. I cannot live without him.” He said this hoping that the queen would not intervene.
But the king looked at her, saying, “Ask him for me,” and Guenevere fell to her knees.
Lancelot could not bear to see her thus, and without consulting Galehaut, cried, “Ah, my lady! I will stay with the king if that is what you desire.” He raised her up, and she thanked him from her heart.
Galehaut said to Arthur, “I would rather be poor and happy than rich and miserable! If I have ever done anything that pleased you, I ask you to retain me as well. I ask you this for both of us, and I remind you that my love for him is the source of my love for you.” The king leapt to his feet, embraced Galehaut, and said that both of them could stay, not merely as his knights, but as his companions and his peers.
King Arthur held high court there in Saxon Rock for seven days, during which time the festivities in honor of Lancelot and of Galehaut never ceased. It was a noble and splendid week, a week of jousts and games and music, culminating on All Saints’ Day. That morning, after mass, the two companions took their seats at the Round Table, and learned clerks were summoned to record how the fortress had been taken, so that the knowledge of Lancel
ot’s extraordinary feats would not be lost. Jongleurs sang of his valor.
The king was happy in the knowledge that the allegiance of the greatest defender of his realm was henceforth firmly assured. But there was something deeper. From the time the youth had come to him, all clad in white, handsome and high-minded, eager for renown, he had felt drawn to him almost as a father to a son. Lancelot was everything that Arthur would have wanted in his heir. Seeing him now, a companion of the Round Table, gratified him profoundly.
The queen, for her part, was more than content, for she had not only secured her love but sheltered it behind the face of propriety and honor. Lancelot, experiencing the joy and gratitude of the court, felt elated. He had set out along his path with the matchless help of the Lady of the Lake and been drawn forward by the power of his love for the queen. The prowess that the two women had inspired in him was made manifest in the White Knight who had conquered Dolorous Guard, the Red Knight who had held back Galehaut’s battalions, the Black Knight who had transformed a sure defeat into victory. But through it all he had been only Lancelot of the Lake; recognized now in his true identity, he felt, at last, worthy of his kingly heritage. In all the excitement of the moment, he never ceased to remember his companion, although the thought was edged with a vague unease. For Galehaut was indeed the least enthusiastic witness to the week’s triumph, and all his brave efforts to share in the general delight could not wholly mask the trouble in his heart.
At last, leaving a garrison to hold Saxon Rock, the Britons made their way slowly back to their homeland. When they reached Carleon, Galehaut took leave of the king, asking him to allow Lancelot to accompany him to Sorelais. Reluctantly, Arthur gave permission; they would rejoin him at Camelot in time for Christmas.
PART TWO
BOOK EIGHT: THE FATE OF GALEHAUT
AS THEY RODE AWAY, GALEHAUT, happy that Lancelot had agreed to return home with him, was nevertheless convinced that his companion, now a member of the Round Table, would be lost to him in the end. And he had given him his heart with a love greater than a father’s for his son, or a brother’s for a brother; he knew he could not survive their separation. He was twenty-two when he had become a knight – would he live to see his fortieth year? Galehaut realized that his reputation for prowess and great deeds placed him second only to King Arthur, though some proclaimed him to be in truth more valiant still. Before meeting Lancelot, he had shown an ambition, skill, and courage unequaled by any king on earth. He had wished to embrace the whole world with his conquests, and surely he would have done so. Had it not been for Lancelot, Arthur would have fallen just like the thirty other kings who had become his vassals. But in surrendering when he had, in fact, triumphed, he had hardly traded victory for a shameful peace, as some men were quick to claim. To them, as to himself, he could only reply that nothing he had ever done seemed as honorable as that decision, “because a valor beyond any other the world has seen is a miraculous gift,” and Galehaut could only bow before the wishes of the man who embodied that valor. He saw as wisdom what others viewed as folly, as gain what others considered loss. No one else could even imagine a love as great as his.
The further they rode away from Carleon, the more Lancelot felt his separation from the queen. He grieved, too, for Galehaut, knowing that he had joined the Round Table against his will, and only for the sake of their friendship. They rode mainly in silence, each fearing to hurt the other if they spoke of what was closest to their hearts. But the greater sorrow was Galehaut’s. Lancelot would surely see the queen again. He was longing for her already. Sooner or later he would be lost to the companion who loved him more than life itself. Even now, with Lancelot right beside him, Galehaut felt that joy was no longer possible.
That night they stayed at a castle on the opposite side of the Severn from Sorelais. Galehaut felt ill, having eaten almost nothing during the journey. He appeared to be cheerful enough through the evening, but later, in bed, Lancelot could hear him weeping, and many times he cried out in his sleep that he was betrayed. The next day he rode with his head down, urging his horse to greater and greater speed over rough paths – until it stumbled against a rock and fell, flinging Galehaut to the ground. He lay motionless, blood running from a deep gash in his forehead. Lancelot, thinking he might be dead, leapt from his horse and threw himself over his friend, nearly unconscious himself in the intensity of his emotion. The four squires who accompanied them believed that both were lost. But then Lancelot heard Galehaut’s deep sigh, and, in his relief, reproached his friend for riding so wildly – only by luck was he still alive!
Galehaut replied, “I have been lucky indeed, my whole life long, and God has granted me everything I desired. A man who has everything can be given no more, he can only lose. Even as I have fallen today, I have gone from winning to losing.” That pronouncement, in its implacable clarity, struck Lancelot like a blow.
One of the squires tore a strip from his tunic to improvise a bandage for Galehaut. His horse had a bruised knee, but could still be ridden. As they continued their journey, Lancelot said, “There must be something more that you are not saying. You know I would do anything to help you.”
“I’ll tell you what I never thought to speak of to anyone. I have had two dreams which frighten me still. In one, I thought I saw myself at Arthur’s court with many other knights. An enormous serpent came out of the queen’s room straight toward me. Long flames darted from its mouth and burned off my legs. Then last night I dreamed that I had two hearts in my chest, and they were exactly alike. As I looked at them, one of them left my body and turned into a leopard. It joined a great company of beasts as wild as itself. Then my heart and my whole body turned dry as dust, and it seemed to me that I was dying. These dreams have never left my thoughts, and I can’t rest until I find out what they mean.”
“My lord,” said Lancelot, “you are much too wise to be troubled by such dreams! The most powerful man in the world has nothing to fear!”
“There is only one man I fear, and should he wish to harm me, nothing would help or save me.”
Once they had crossed the bridge into Sorelais, Galehaut took a righthand path leading to a castle of his, built on solid rock, high on a hill, with a swiftly-flowing river below it. For its strength and beauty, he had given it the name of Proud Fortress, and it was here that he had once planned to imprison King Arthur. From a league or so away, they had a view of its high tower and the strong walls with their formidable battlements. Lancelot said, “That is the most impressive castle I’ve ever seen! It must have been built with lofty purposes in mind!”
“Dear friend, dear companion, let me tell you how true that is! When I began it, my goal was to be the ruler of the entire world. If I tell you the truth about it, you’ll know the proud height from which I have fallen, for much of what I so arrogantly hoped to do has remained unaccomplished. There are exactly one hundred and fifty crenels in the battlements, because I intended to turn one hundred and fifty kings into my vassals. When I had conquered all of them, I planned to bring them here to this castle, and then I would sit on a royal throne surrounded by all those crowned kings, there to do me honor. I would at last be crowned myself and would hold court in a manner befitting so great a ruler; I would be remembered after my death. I have always left this castle happier than when I came, but this time that is very unlikely to happen.”
Lancelot listened and said nothing, thinking to himself, “How he should hate me for all these things I’ve prevented him from doing! The most powerful man in the world has lost all his ambition, because of me.” He turned his head away, so that Galehaut would not see the tears filling his eyes.
By then they had climbed until they were very close to the castle. It was utterly silent. No one came to greet them; there was no watchman on top of the tower. The drawbridge, missing a number of planks, was lowered, as if defense were no longer important. Galehaut and Lancelot made their way across, passed through the unmanned barbican, reached the final gate, which sag
ged and swung on its hinges. They looked inside. The great courtyard was cluttered with stones; large sections of the inner walls had fallen. Outside, the travelers saw that the masonry was cracked, and clearly, it was only a matter of time before the tower itself would collapse. Galehaut was struck dumb. He turned his horse’s head and galloped back the way they had come, with Lancelot close behind him, trying to imagine words of comfort. When Galehaut finally slowed down, Lancelot said, “My lord, I know a man as noble as you can’t really be troubled by such a loss, so long as he and his friends remain unharmed.”
Galehaut smiled ruefully at this. “Do you think that I am grieving for my castle? If you understood me better, you would realize that I have never been concerned about lands or wealth. Even when I wished to conquer great kingdoms and hold their rulers under my sway, my purpose was not mere possession. What I sought was glory. And now I have been glad to cast it aside. All my conquests only left me with a need to go beyond, to discover what more might be possible. Had I defeated King Arthur, which then seemed the summit of my ambitions, the result would have been the same. But once I saw you on the battlefield, everything changed. All that has mattered to me since that moment has been your friendship, worth more than all the kingdoms of the world. Yet the ruin of Proud Fortress confirms my heart’s foreboding. This is a sign; it is the beginning of the end of my happiness.”
Lancelot and the Lord of the Distant Isles Page 12
