Sir Lamorack, meanwhile, had ridden after Sir Abelleus and the brachet; and he had not gone far when suddenly a dwarf stood in his path, and struck his horse such a blow on the muzzle with the staff he carried that the poor beast shook his head and squealed, backing a full spear’s length before Lamorack could get him under control again.
‘Why did you strike my horse?’ demanded Lamorack.
‘For that you may not pass along this way until you have jousted with the knights in yonder pavilions,’ said the dwarf.
And Sir Lamorack noticed for the first time that two pavilions stood back among the trees beside the way, and beside each pavilion a brightly coloured shield and spear, and a horse standing ready saddled.
‘I have no time to spare for such a jousting,’ said Lamorack, ‘for I am on a quest that may not be left lying.’
‘Nevertheless, you shall not pass,’ said the dwarf, and raising the horn that hung from his shoulder on a silken baldric, he sounded an echoing blast.
Out from the first of the pavilions strode a fully armed knight, who leapt upon his waiting horse, and taking down his shield, set lance in rest and came spurring towards Sir Lamorack. And Sir Lamorack swung his horse to meet the attack and received him with a spear thrust that tipped him over the crupper of his steed. And before he could rise, another knight came from the second pavilion, and Sir Lamorack received him in the same manner. Then Sir Lamorack dismounted, and stood over the two fallen knights as they lay sprawled on the turf.
‘Do you cry my mercy?’
‘We cry mercy,’ said they, with what wind was still left in them.
‘Then mercy you shall have. What are your names?’
‘I am Sir Felot of Landluck,’ said one.
And the other, ‘I am Sir Petipace of Winchelsea.’
‘So then, Sir Felot and Sir Petipace, get up, and back on your horses, and ride you to the court of King Arthur, and tell him you were sent by the knight who follows the Quest of the White Brachet. Now God speed you and me.’
And when they were gone, swearing to do as he demanded, and Sir Lamorack was about to ride on, the dwarf, who had stood by watching all this while, came to him and said, ‘Sir, pray you grant me a gift.’
‘Ask it,’ said Sir Lamorack.
‘I ask only that you will take me into your service, for I would no longer serve such sorry knights as those. If I were your man, I could tell you where rode the knight with the white brachet.’
‘Choose yourself a horse, then,’ said Sir Lamorack, glancing at the spare mounts that stood under the trees, ‘and ride with me.’
So they rode together through the early summer forest.
Towards evening they came upon two more pavilions pitched beside the way; and beside the entrance to one pavilion leaned a shield that was as white as milk, and beside the other, one that was as red as a corn-poppy.
Then Sir Lamorack dismounted, and giving his bridle to the dwarf, went to the pavilion of the white shield and looked in. And there lay three maidens sleeping. He went to the pavilion of the red shield; and there lay a lady sleeping with the white brachet at her feet, which barked at sight of him so that the lady awoke, and her maidens also and came running. And Sir Lamorack caught up the brachet as it sprang towards him, and carried it out and gave it to the waiting dwarf, the lady and her maidens following after.
‘Sir Knight,’ cried the lady, ‘why do you take my brachet from me?’
‘Because Arthur the King sent me in quest of it for another lady who claims it for her own,’ said Lamorack, ‘and so I must bear it back to him.’
‘She lies, that other lady! This is an ungentle thing you do, and you shall not go far without suffering for it!’
‘Then I will abide what ill befall me as best I may,’ said Sir Lamorack. ‘But, lady, I must have the brachet,’ and he mounted, and he and the dwarf rode on their way back to Camelot.
They had not ridden far when they heard the furious drum of hooves coming hard behind, and Sir Abelleus ranged up beside them. ‘Sir Knight, give back to me the brachet which you stole from my lady!’
‘Nay, if you want it, you must joust for it!’
So they set their spears in rest, and fought together, first on horseback, and then when both were unhorsed, on foot, until Sir Lamorack had the victory and Sir Abelleus lay at his feet. ‘Now yield and cry mercy!’ demanded Lamorack.
But the other cried, ‘Never while the life is in me!’
And in that moment, again there came the sound of flying hooves, and out from the trees burst a damosel on a grey palfrey, who cried to Sir Lamorack, ‘Sweet knight, for King Arthur’s love, grant me what I shall ask of you.’
‘Ask,’ said Sir Lamorack, still with his sword point at Sir Abelleus’s throat. ‘And if it may be, I will grant it to you.’
‘Then give me Sir Abelleus’s head, for he is the worst of living men, and a murderer most cruel!’
Then Lamorack was troubled. ‘That was a rash promise, and I repent me of making it,’ he said. ‘May it not be that he can make amends for whatever wrong he has done you, and win your forgiveness?’
‘Never!’ cried the lady. ‘For he slew my own brother before my eyes, though I kneeled in the mud an hour to plead his mercy; and for no more cause than that my brother had worsted him in a joust!’
Then Abelleus, hearing this where he lay on the ground, yielded him and cried his mercy.
‘It is too late for that,’ said Sir Lamorack. ‘You could have had mercy, but you would not ask for it.’ And he stooped to pull off the other’s helmet. But Sir Abelleus squirmed over, and leapt to his feet and ran, and Sir Lamorack after him; and among the trees Sir Lamorack caught up with him and smote off his head.
When he came back, cleaning his sword with a handful of grass, to the place where he had left the dwarf and the horse, the lady on the grey palfrey was still there, and she spoke to him gently, ‘Sir, my thanks are yours. And now – you must be weary; come therefore to my house, which is nearby, and eat and rest, and tomorrow return to Camelot.’
So Sir Lamorack went with her, and she and the gentle old knight her husband made him and his dwarf and his horses warmly welcome, and gave him many thanks for his avenging of the lady’s brother; and bade him remember that a welcome awaited him always in their manor. And in the morning, fed and rested and with his wounds salved, Sir Lamorack set out once more for Camelot, the dwarf following him with the brachet across his saddlebow.
King Pellinore rode into the forest in yet a third direction, and he had not ridden far before, coming down into a gentle valley, he came upon a well bubbling out from beneath an archway of mossy stones, and beside the well a damosel sitting with a wounded knight in her arms. And seeing King Pellinore she cried out to him, ‘Help me, Sir Knight! Help me for Christ’s sweet sake!’
But King Pellinore was half deaf in his helmet, and too eager upon his quest to stop, and scarcely heard her even when she cried out after him, ‘I pray God you may have as much need of help as I have, before your time comes to die!’
He rode on down the valley; and presently he heard the sound of fighting, and coming to an open space among the trees, he saw two knights, one black-harnessed and the other all in elfin green, locked in furious sword-combat, while a little to one side, the maiden he sought sat her white palfrey captive between two squires. He reined in beside her, and said, ‘Lady, I have sought you all the forest ways. Now you must come with me, back to King Arthur’s court.’
‘That will I gladly, if only it may be,’ said the lady, ‘for it was by no wish of mine that yonder knight of the black armour dragged me from the King’s Hall.’
But one of the squires cut in, ‘Yonder two knights are fighting for this lady. Go you and part them and ask their leave, and if both give it to you, then may you take her with you back to Arthur’s court.’
Then King Pellinore urged his horse between the two battling knights, forcing them to break off, and demanded, ‘Why fight you for this lady?’
‘I fight to save her from this foul knight who has carried her off by force, for she is the Lady Nimue, and distant kin to me,’ returned the knight in green.
‘I fight for what is mine!’ swore he of the dark armour. ‘For I bore her off by my strength and courage this day from Arthur’s court!’
‘You lie!’ said Pellinore. ‘For you came in full harness when we were unarmed and at high feast, and carried her off before any man had time to take up arms against you! Therefore on the High King’s order I ride in quest of her, and will take her or die in the attempt.’
Then he of the black armour turned his sword upon King Pellinore’s horse and drove it through to the heart, and laughed. ‘Fight for her then, but on foot as we do!’
Pellinore sprang clear as his horse crashed to the ground, and ripped his own sword from its sheath, and cried out in fury, ‘That will I! And for my poor horse as well as for the lady!’ And as the black knight made at him, he swung up his sword, and brought it whistling down, through helm and mail coif and bone, splitting the man’s head to the chin, so that he fell dead upon the trampled ground.
Then Pellinore turned to the other knight, but he looked up from staunching his own wounds, and shook his head.
‘What? Will you not fight for her?’ said Pellinore.
‘Nay, there is no need. She will come to no harm at your hands. Take her back to Arthur’s court, as your quest bids you.’
‘That will I do,’ Pellinore said, ‘and riding this dead knight’s charger since he has slain mine.’
‘Nay, come back and lodge with me this night, and I will give you a better horse in the morning.’
So King Pellinore and the maiden Nimue returned with the knight her kinsman to his dwelling-place, supped and slept, and in the morning a tall fine warhorse was brought for him, and he mounted, the lady on her white palfrey at his side.
‘Tell me your name before you ride away with my kinswoman in your keeping,’ said the knight in green.
‘I am King Pellinore of Wales, a knight of the Round Table. Now, in fair exchange for my name, do you give me yours.’
‘I am Sir Meliot of Logure.’
‘If ever you come to Camelot, you shall find fair welcome,’ said King Pellinore.
And he rode on his way.
But when he came again to the well where the lady had cried out to him for help, he found the wounded knight lying dead of his hurts, and beside him the lady, lying with her head upon his still breast, and her bright hair showered all about him, and the dagger which she had taken from his belt driven deep into her own heart.
And looking upon them, all the triumph of his accomplished quest drained out of him like wine out of a cracked cup.
‘She cried to me for help,’ he said, ‘and I was in too much haste to stop and aid her.’
‘And there is nought that you can do for her now, nor for the knight she loved, but see that they have fitting burial,’ said the Lady Nimue. ‘There is a hermitage not far from here. Take their bodies to the hermit and pray him see to all that must be done.’
And when King Pellinore had dismounted and carried them both to the hermitage, the dead knight slung across the back of his horse and the lady in his arms, and bidden the hermit see to all things and bury them together, and take the knight’s harness for his pains, they rode on towards Camelot again. ‘She was very light to carry,’ said King Pellinore; and he rode with his chin sunk on his breast.
And on the way, they were joined by Sir Lamorack with the dwarf and the brachet; and then by Sir Gawain riding sadly, with the headless body of the lady he had slain across his saddlebow.
Towards evening of the day after his wedding and the coming of the white hart, Arthur and Merlin walked alone upon the ramparts of Camelot; and looked out over the roofs of the town to the water-meadows and the shining loops of the river, and the forest beyond that rolled away and away into the blue heat-haze of summer.
‘Soon, very soon now, I shall leave you,’ Merlin said.
And Arthur turned from the distant forest to look at him with startled eyes. ‘Merlin, why?’
‘Because it is the appointed time. I have told you often enough that the time would come.’
‘But not yet! Oh, Merlin, what will I do without your guidance and counsel? What will I do without you?’
‘If I have taught you well, and you have learned well, you will do without me.’
‘But you are not old,’ Arthur said, seeing the man beside him as tall and upright as ever, his eyes as brightly golden, the darkness of his hair only beginning to be streaked with ash colour.
‘My kind do not grow old according to the passing years – not as you understand growing old. But I am tired and the life grows thin within me, and I shall be glad to rest. And there are things that I have to do first. For many years I have shared your fate and your father’s before you. Now I go to follow my own.’
Arthur said, ‘Tell me at least what it is.’
‘The lady who rode into your Hall yesterday after the white hart, and was herself dragged away by the knight in black armour – did you not know her?’
‘Why should I?’ Arthur said. ‘Never did I see her before.’
‘That was Nimue, the Lady of the Lake who gave you your sword.’ Merlin saw the astonishment on Arthur’s face, and smiled. ‘She is of the Lordly People, and has powers of shape shifting beyond even my own, for I am half mortal. Yet even I have come to you often enough in the guise of an aged beggar or a child gathering blackberries and you have not known that it was I.’
‘But what has she to do with you?’
‘She has my love,’ Merlin said simply, ‘all of it that is not yours. She has had it a long time. Now I go with her a while, to give her my wisdom and my powers to add to her own, as a gift of love, and so that she may use them in your service, when I can do so no more. And when she has them all, she will lock me with one of my own spells into a magic sleep … A quiet, long sleep, in a cave beneath roots of a certain hawthorn tree …’
‘Then she is wicked,’ Arthur cried out. ‘Wicked, even though it was she who gave me Excalibur! And with Excalibur I will kill her before she does this to you!’
‘Nay, she is not wicked,’ Merlin said, looking out over the forest into the dim blue distance. ‘She is of the Lordly Ones, did I not say? The Lordly Ones are neither wicked nor good, just as the rain is neither wicked nor good, that can swell the barley or wash away the field. They simply are.’
‘But even so – with your powers, surely there is something that you can do to escape this fate?’ Arthur cried in desperate misery.
‘Oh, yes; and so I would remain with you – with my powers beginning to fail. But to do so would be to turn aside from the road appointed for me. She is my fate; and in some sort she is yours also … She will be with Pellinore when he returns, and when she leaves the court again, I shall go with her.’
‘So soon?’ said Arthur.
‘So soon,’ said Merlin.
Arthur was silent a moment, watching the swallows darting sickle-winged about the battlements. Then he said, ‘This sleep – will it be for ever?’
‘Not for ever, no. We shall both come again, you and I, when the time and the need call for us.’
Arthur went on watching the swallows. He felt the warmth of the evening sunshine on his face, and Cabal’s muzzle thrust lovingly into the palm of his hand, and thought of Guenever’s face, and the faces of men who were his friends. ‘What will they be like, the people we come back to? What will it all be like?’ he whispered suddenly in anguish.
But before Merlin could answer, a little group of figures rode out from the woodshore towards the bridge; and he saw that they were Sir Gawain and Sir Lamorack and King Pellinore; and that Gawain carried something that looked like a woman’s body across his saddlebow, and Sir Lamorack was followed by a mounted dwarf with a white brachet on a long leash, and beside King Pellinore rode a damosel on a palfrey as white as hawthorn blossom.
‘Indeed I was so set upon my quest that thought of all else forsook me,’ said Pellinore. ‘I shall grieve for that to my own dying day.’
‘If that is so, then you will not again ride past any who need your aid,’ said the King. ‘Come therefore to your place at the Round Table – your son Lamorack also, for he has earned his place among my knights.’ And then he turned to Gawain. ‘And you? Think you that you also deserve to sit among them? You who come riding back from your quest with the severed head of a lady hanging round your neck, and her slain body across your saddlebow?’
Gawain, who had finished his story last, and stood by, ash white, flushed fiery red to the roots of his fiery red hair, and then grew white again. ‘I do not know. I only know that I will swear to show more mercy in future days; and for the sake of the lady I slew, to fight for all women who seek my aid and be their knight, truly and in all honour.’
Arthur and he looked at each other straightly, for they were good friends and almost of an age. And then Arthur smiled. He was feeling the need of his friends even more than he usually did, after his talk with Merlin on the ramparts. ‘Your name is still gold-written on the back of your seat. See? Come you and sit in it. And remember the oath that you have sworn.’
He looked to Merlin, as though to ask, with no word spoken, whether he had dealt rightly with his three knights, for he knew and accepted that this was the last time he would be able to ask Merlin anything.
And Merlin returned him the shadow of a smile.
Thus, then, was accomplished the Quest of the White Hart and of the Brachet, and of the Maiden who was the Lake-Lady Nimue.
The King Arthur Trilogy Page 6
