Lancelot and the Lord of the Distant Isles

by Patricia Terry

  Only after a while did he send for Lancelot. The young man arrived trying to look cheerful, but his eyes were red from weeping. “Well, my dear companion,” said Galehaut, “I know that you have been troubled about me, but I have news that will warm your heart.”

  Lancelot was not immediately reassured. “Tell me what he said about the forty-five planks,” he countered, “and why I had to leave the room. I’m afraid he may have wanted to speak of the queen and me.”

  “Nothing of the kind! He said nothing about the queen. He wanted you to leave so that I could make my confession. Otherwise he wouldn’t tell me what I wanted to know. Master Elias cast a spell. He brought forth from the darkness a truth that could not be doubted. The planks represented my years to come, and he predicted I would live forty-five more.” Galehaut was pained to find himself trapped into such fabrications. He had been obliged more than once to disguise his true feelings, to keep silent about matters that might disturb his companion, but those were sins of omission, if sins at all. Now, however, he felt forced into distortions and outright lies, and he detested himself for such weakness.

  He went on, “What you do for me, dear friend, is beyond all gratitude. Were it not for your being here, I would have succumbed too easily to the warnings that I saw in my dreams. Perhaps I would not even have sought their true interpretation. Now we can see that there is no reason to be sad, but rather to rejoice that my fears were groundless.” So Galehaut tried to find comfort for Lancelot if not for himself, and continued acting happier than he felt – all this for the sake of his companion, whose relief was evident.

  BOOK NINE: GUENEVERE IN DANGER

  SOME DAYS AFTER MASTER ELIAS’S visit, a messenger arrived from the queen, with a terrible story to tell. Galehaut received him in private, while Lancelot was still sleeping. A lady had come to Arthur’s court, accompanied by a large number of knights and servants, more than thirty in all. Claiming to be the daughter of the King of Carmelide, Guenevere’s own father, she accused the queen of being an impostor, her bastard sister adulterously born to the wife of their father’s seneschal. She, too, was named Guenevere – the true one! She said that Arthur, knowingly or not, was living in sin, his presumed queen no more than a concubine. According to her story, she had been married to the king in the Church of Saint Stephen the Martyr, in the capital city of Logres. The king had had only a glimpse of her before, and during the ceremony she was veiled. She was conveyed to the castle separately from Arthur, who, when they arrived, was called away for a moment. She, meanwhile, was taken to private quarters to ready herself for what would follow. Someone brought her spiced wine to drink, and the next thing she knew she was being led away again, this time in stealth, her new destination a distant manor which was, in fact, a prison.

  Years went by, she said. Her jailors were not unkind to her, and she managed to persuade one of them to carry a message to Bertolay the Old, the most respected and valiant knight of Carmelide, who had always known her and loved her. Bertolay rescued her and was now by her side at Arthur’s court; the barons of Carmelide would surely follow his lead. She was certain of Bertolay’s loyalty, unlike that of her very father, who might well have been the agent of her betrayal! Perhaps he had wanted to serve the scheming mother of her half-sister, now pretending to be the rightful queen. And against Guenevere, finally, she made a formal accusation, demanding that the king give her over to justice. The allegation astounded the king, and he commanded Guenevere to respond, but all she could say was that her defense must be her innocence itself.

  Galehaut listened intently, with rising agitation, although he was inclined to think the matter inconsequential. How could Arthur pay the slightest attention to such vile slander! But the messenger assured him that the king was taking it seriously. Instead of dismissing the pretender, who seemed to have no proof of her own identity, Arthur had declared that he would hold court at Bredigan, on the border of Carmelide, and hear both sides in six weeks’ time. The messenger added that King Arthur seemed to be attracted to the lady. She was very beautiful, and had made a startling impression as she strode through the crowd of knights and ladies toward the king. With her long hair in a single golden braid, shining against the crimson of her cloak, she did indeed look remarkably like the queen.

  The courier went on to say that Guenevere suspected the pretender of being an agent of Arthur’s sister, Morgan the Fay, who had been bitterly opposed to their marriage, and whose jealousy of the queen was such that she would do anything to ruin her. If the pretender’s claim was upheld to the satisfaction of the king, the queen would be repudiated, possibly even put to death. But before that happened, Sir Gawain would insist on a trial by combat, even though he himself would not yet be well enough to fight as the queen’s defender. Surely, someone worthy would be found to face the accuser’s champion! Guenevere’s messenger was charged to ask Galehaut and Lancelot to come to Bredigan to do what they could. Galehaut said he would give him an answer very soon, and suggested he rest and have some refreshment.

  It was stunning news – very hard to believe, or to imagine. Above all, how was he to convey it to Lancelot without throwing him into a blind rage? Galehaut was at first tempted to tell him nothing at all, but then realized that news of the alleged imposture was too terrible not to travel far and fast. He could not risk letting Lancelot hear it from another source. Reluctantly he went to rouse his companion.

  Lancelot was still half asleep when Galehaut walked into the room, but was instantly alert when he heard there was a message from the queen. Galehaut said it was startling. Lancelot sprang forward in expectation. It was dire, said Galehaut, and would require a measured response. Lancelot grew anxious. The event could nevertheless be made to work to Lancelot’s advantage, Galehaut insisted, even before recounting what had happened. That was a vain attempt to forestall the inevitable, for Galehaut himself was agitated, and his retelling of the news let loose a storm of passion, a frantic cry for combat that the older man was unable to restrain. He listened, grieved, and waited.

  After a while, Lancelot, more drained than composed, sank into silence, and Galehaut could hope he would listen to reason. Yes, of course, it was a horrendous attack on the queen, and Arthur’s failure to dismiss the accusation out of hand was an inexcusable second assault on her dignity. In fact, it meant her very life might be at stake. But Galehaut thought some good might come of what had happened; the intruder’s slander might even have a beneficial outcome. He ventured that it might well be the best thing if the king repudiated Guenevere. “If Arthur accepts the charge of imposture and banishes her, I will not only grant her a haven in Sorelais. I will cede my power in such a way that she may effectively govern this realm. Then the two of you can be together as much as you wish, openly. Your love need no longer be a secret, and if you cared to marry, there would be no impediment. Never could she find, my dear friend, a better man than you.”

  “No,” said Lancelot, “it won’t be that simple, and we can’t just stay here and assume the king will do nothing worse than cast her aside. Hope is not enough, and her message was a cry not for refuge but for rescue! The queen faces nothing short of death. Please! If you love me, come with me to Arthur’s court and help me save her!” He fell to his knees before Galehaut, to whom this plea and desperate gesture were stabs he felt in his very heart. He raised the young man to his feet, and their embrace was a wordless endorsement of their covenant.

  They began to consider what to do. Galehaut proposed to go in disguise to the royal court with a hundred of his best knights; they would lie in wait for an opportunity to abduct the queen and bring her back to Sorelais. Both men, however, instantly rejected such a plan for its treason and deceit. “And how do you suppose,” Lancelot added, “she would react to being seized and carried off with no warning? I could never survive her anger!”

  “And survive you must, if I am to go on. . . . You said yourself that the queen may be facing death. If her accuser can’t be proven wrong, coming with us to
Sorelais may be her only hope. She would find safety in a country that could be yours no less than it is mine. My kingdom,” he continued, “is without an heir, and yours has long been in the hands of a usurper. I have no son to follow me as lord of Sorelais, and the man who wrested Benoic from your noble father still rules your patrimony undisturbed. I want to grant you half my dominion over the lands I hold and have you acknowledged by all my barons; I want you to receive from them the same oath of fealty they pledged to me long ago.” He paused. He saw Lancelot struggling to shape a response, and he cut off the opportunity. “And then, with their help, I want us to cross the sea and take back your kingdom. Your father’s death, your mother’s fate, your destitution, all these crimes cry out to be avenged. Years have passed, and justice has already waited too long. Let it not wait much longer.”

  Now there was silence. Lancelot turned his head away, then looked slowly back with glistening eyes. “No, my lord, my dearest friend, not yet. There is nothing I can do now but try to help my lady.” His words were barely audible, but Galehaut did not need to hear them. Their conversation came to an end. They both knew that whatever might come to pass in the future, the imperative they faced right now was the need to ensure Guenevere’s safety. Galehaut told the waiting messenger that they would ride to Bredigan immediately, and there see how best to help the queen.

  With a large escort of Galehaut’s knights, the two companions rode in lengthy stages to the town, close to the kingdom of Carmelide, where accusers and defenders were soon to confront each other. The new Guenevere, the would-be queen, appeared with thirty elegant attendants. The barons of Carmelide were led by Bertolay the Old who, speaking on the lady’s behalf, assured the king that he had known her all the days of her life, that he had been happy when she married with such honor, but was subsequently surprised that she never invited him to visit her at court. Then, years later and to his horror, he received her message, and ultimately was able to set her free. All the barons of Carmelide supported her in her claim that the present queen was in truth her bastard half-sister, and that she herself had been betrayed and captured on the very day of her marriage to the king. She accused the present queen of willful deception, demanded to be reinstated in her rightful place, and insisted on vengeance for her years of suffering. Only Guenevere’s death would suffice.

  Gawain stepped forward in defense of the only queen he recognized, but Lancelot, standing next to Galehaut in a conspicuous group of angry-looking knights, rushed past him and, without asking leave to speak, accused Arthur of offending the queen’s dignity by listening to such an impossible story. “How can you imagine for a single instant that this lady, your wife and queen all these years, whose goodness has been a wonder of the world, could be guilty of such an atrocious crime? If you do not reject this slander here and now, and send this impostor, this false Guenevere, back to where she came from, I will break all connection with your court! I deeply regret having ever been part of it.”

  The king was taken aback by his vehemence. Torn between his affection for Lancelot and the impact of this unexpected outburst, he retorted, “What proof is there of the queen’s innocence? Perhaps I have been deluded all this time! I cannot simply dismiss this accusation, supported by all the barons of Carmelide, and especially Bertolay the Old, who has known Leodagan’s daughter all her life!”

  “Let the decision be made by God!” cried Lancelot. “I demand that there be a trial by combat! I challenge the three best knights of Carmelide to fight me all together. My victory will be proof enough of my lady’s innocence.”

  The king objected that by the rules of such combat, no one should be required to fight against three opponents, that such a deed had never before been attempted, and that Lancelot, brave as he was, was taking on too much. But the knight was unmoved.

  Although everyone who cared about Lancelot was appalled by the conditions he proposed, both sides had to agree that judicial combat offered the only hope of justice. A well-ordered appeal to the judgment of God was, after all, an obvious advance over mere undisciplined violence or arbitrary ruling, and no one, moreover, could publicly acknowledge that God might choose to remain neutral. The false Guenevere was one of those, however, who harbored a suspicion of divine indifference to knightly confrontations, so agreement was not difficult for her. Although she risked death if Lancelot succeeded, she was sure that, facing three foes, and God not withstanding, he would be defeated.

  The queen, however, tried hard to dissuade him, and in the few days granted while the barons of Carmelide chose their champions, she appealed to Galehaut. Her eyes filling with tears, she said, “I need your help now more than ever, and this time I fear you may rather let me go to my fate. Against three opponents, Lancelot is sure to lose, and the king will put me to death. We can’t allow him to fight for me in so unfair a way. He too can only die! “

  “If you were condemned to death, my lady, I would send for my whole army, and this time we would defeat the king as we could have done before. You will be rescued, I promise you, unless I die in the attempt! And should the king cast you aside, I will give you another kingdom to rule with Lancelot beside you. I ask only that you allow me a part in your happiness.”

  Guenevere was too distraught to hear Galehaut’s words and went on as if they had not been spoken. “I fear that the king has been inclined to believe this accusation, because he knows that all is not well between the two of us. He doesn’t know how I have strayed or with whom, but he senses it – partly, I am sure, because he has been less than true himself. What is happening now is God’s punishment, isn’t it – God’s frightful way of telling me how much I’ve sinned. But there is no need for me to tell you about the power of love. The most valorous knight in the world could hardly be denied.”

  “Be comforted, my lady! Lancelot has no doubt that the accusation is false, and he has often fought against greater odds. Neither you nor I could keep him from this combat, and, I promise you, he will not lose.”

  Galehaut made a last attempt to reason with the king, saying that no one had ever before questioned the queen’s identity. Arthur replied that he still loved the queen above all other women, but he could not imperil his soul. Even if he had sinned in ignorance, it was still a sin, and only God’s decision could show him the right way now.

  “Nevertheless, my lord, you said yourself that no knight should be required to fight against three to obtain proof of a person’s guilt or innocence.”

  “Even though Lancelot has turned against me, no knight of my household is as dear to me as he is. I owe him more than I can ever repay. I could never forgive myself if he were to be killed!”

  The king was clearly in conflict with himself, and Galehaut saw one final opportunity. He said, “Then could you not declare the queen innocent, as surely you must know that she is?”

  “I cannot do that,” he replied. “What if the accusation were true? But I will try to persuade Lancelot to accept a more equal combat.”

  But when the king saw the knight armed and ready on his horse, impatient for the battle to begin, he was so moved by his proud appearance and his beauty that he spoke in a different way: “Dear friend, I beg you to give up this battle, and for your sake I will put an end to the trial. I will have your opponents withdraw, and the queen will be acquitted of all that is claimed against her.”

  “For my sake, there is nothing you can do! This battle will not be over until my enemies are defeated or I am dead. My honor demands it, and so does the innocence of the queen.”

  The three knights chosen to fight for the Lady of Carmelide were armed and ready. The king could not do otherwise than accept their pledges, and Lancelot’s as well. The battle would take place in a field below the castle where the pretender and Bertolay stood at a window, while Guenevere watched from the battlements. Sir Gawain, Sir Kay and other knights were with her. Galehaut laced on Lancelot’s helmet, and offered him his own magnificent sword. Lancelot accepted it gladly, feeling that now he would not be fi
ghting alone. And it was fitting, he thought, to defend the queen with a sword that came, not from her, but from the great prince who had already given so much to the accused and her champion.

  Then the king ordered the guards to take their places in the field, Galehaut, King Yder, Sir Yvain among them, with worthy knights from Carmelide as well. Finally, Lancelot heard the sound he had been impatient for – the ringing tones of the horn – and he spurred his horse toward the three knights advancing at a gallop.

  They rode close together, but only one of them could aim directly for the center of Lancelot’s shield. He had little profit from it, though, for his lance uselessly shattered, and Lancelot’s struck him so hard that the tip went right through his chest and back. He was dead when he fell to the ground. Lancelot jumped his horse over the body, instantly turned and came back at an angle, so that one of the remaining knights was slightly behind the other. From the closer one, he received a glancing blow on his helmet, but, having drawn his sword, he slipped the blade through the chain mail under the man’s raised arm, and he, too, lost his life. Lancelot whirled around to meet his third opponent, whose weapon struck through his shield but did not reach the hauberk. Lancelot’s return blow was so powerful that it sent the knight flying back over the croup of his horse. The queen’s champion rode to where he lay in a heap; he was still alive and expecting to be killed. “Don’t imagine that I would dishonor myself by fighting you from horseback!” Lancelot shouted. Dismounting, he gestured to a squire to take his horse.

  This last knight, Cardoas of Lanvale, was the best in Carmelide. He struggled to his feet, sword in hand, and the opponents began exchanging heavy blows. Blood from both of them ran over the field, but they fought on until mid-afternoon. By that time it was clear that Lancelot would inevitably win, but Cardoas kept hoping that luck would yet give him an advantage. Those watching admired his courage, and began to regret the loss of such a knight. The barons of Carmelide went to the king, declared their side defeated, and begged that the life of their knight be spared. Since Arthur feared that Lancelot would reject a request from him, Galehaut suggested that he ask the queen to intervene. The king hastened to do so. “Your innocence, my lady, has been proven beyond a doubt,” he said, “and there is no need for this brave knight to be killed. If you spoke to Lancelot, he would surely agree to spare him.”