Welcome to Camelot

by Cleaver, Tony

  Lady Gwendolyn beamed at him. “It would please us greatly to have such a valiant warrior grace us with his presence.” She would have curtsied as honour dictated but she was seated already and anyway she had seen that ladies did not do that in this world. So she bowed her head and lowered her eyes at the table instead.

  Gareth hesitated; he was caught in two minds by this remark. Such a corny and anachronistic turn of phrase! Was this a cynical, deliberately sarcastic invitation by someone who was setting him up just to put him down and make a fool of him – like before when she’d got him to buy them drinks? A glance at Gwen’s face as she looked back up – open and sincere in expression – persuaded him to take the risk. Paula, meanwhile, was stunned into silence by her friend’s completely out-of-character reply

  Gareth pulled a seat round to sit opposite across the table to the two girls. The Lady Gwendolyn’s eyes were now shining at him.

  “Sir Gareth, didst thou suffer much after that battle at…at rugby whenst I saw thee last?”

  Gareth looked down. He looked across at Paula and then back at Gwen. Was she for real or was this an elaborate ruse to set him up? Paula was not grinning as if she was in on some practical joke. Gwen looked at him kindly, as if genuinely concerned. He played along.

  “Did I suffer? Not really. I’ve got used to that now,” he replied guardedly

  “But I saw three men set upon thee at the same time. Is that fair?”

  Gareth remembered she had spoken to him on the touchline and was as friendly and supportive of him then as she seemed to be now. He smiled.

  “It’s fair if they tackle you properly. On that occasion there was no foul play…but it’s not always like that. I’m big, see, so there’s many a time when people try to bring me down by playing dirty. I get that from women too…” He looked pointedly at Paula and back at Gwen. Paula got what he meant straight away, he could tell from her expression, but it went straight over Gwen’s head.

  “Those who act so dishonourably win only condemnation and lose their soul,” she replied seriously. “They’re destined never to inspire or attain greatness. They will never enter Camelot.”

  Gareth laughed. “Funny you should say that ‘cos I’ve just come back from there. Thanks to you, I knew they were taking on new staff, so I applied for a summer job. I got lucky: your assistant manager there has just appointed me!”

  The Lady Gwendolyn clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, well done, Sir Gareth!”

  Paula grinned. She was watching an exchange that she could scarcely believe. Her friend couldn’t get away from this man quickly enough the last time they were here in the King Offa. She had thought then that Gwen had treated him poorly – even dishonourably, to use her own words. But now her friend was clearly unaware of the irony involved in her remarks and was instead positively glowing in his presence. Thinking on it, Paula was pleased Gwen had softened towards this craggy individual and was repairing the cynical way she had exploited him earlier.

  “What sort of job will you be doing there, Gareth?” she asked. She liked this gentle giant.

  “I’m not exactly sure as yet. General porter and dogsbody, I guess. Lugging suitcases around for holidaying tourists and visiting businessmen will be part of it, I’m told. I’m just there for the peak season and until the university starts up again in October. It won’t be the best-paid job in the world but there’s not a lot of alternative employment in these parts. It will be something to help pay off the student loan, however.”

  “And thou wilst share in the spirit of Camelot!” said Lady Gwendolyn gleefully. “That is a reward in itself.”

  “Yeah, there’s some important meeting about that that we’ve all got to go to in a couple of days’ time,” replied Gareth. He stood up to go buy a drink, offering another to the two girls. They both graciously declined. That was nice: this time he was decidedly pleased to be sharing their company.

  * * *

  The World Traveller Hotel Group had invested a lot in promoting an Arthurian image at their newly acquired, refurbished and renamed Camelot Hotel. In addition to the major restoration of a castle-like edifice, albeit with all modern conveniences, no expense had been spared in putting up banners, flags, decorations and any number of feudal artefacts to create an appropriate atmosphere for their opening launch. Now the final detail was to brief all staff on the notions of chivalry and service to others, on the styles of dress and the ideal of Camelot that they were supposed to mimic and promote, especially on the first day when a variety of media and tourist trade agents were invited.

  Everyone on the hotel staff, from the general manager down to the part-time porters and groundsmen, had been summoned to attend and no excuse for absence was accepted. World Traveller Hotel Group’s head of human relations, Mrs Elizabeth Morley, opened the meeting in the hotel’s main banqueting hall and greeted all staff. She emphasised again the importance of everyone in the hotel committing themselves to the company’s chosen theme for this hotel – the spirit of Camelot – and then she introduced Dr Rupert Jeffries, the President of the Knights of the Round Table Society, an economic historian who claimed to be an expert on Arthurian legend and who had been invited to come and give his views to the assembled staff about the idealised world that they were supposed to recreate.

  Dr Jeffries got to his feet, took his place at the lectern and gave his thanks to Mrs Morley for the introduction. He welcomed his audience. A rather pompous individual, he was accustomed to addressing small groups of academics and also the closed coterie of fanatics who were members of the Knights of the Round Table Society and who had invited someone as important as he to be their president. He rarely spoke to gatherings of working people such as were assembled in front of him. He coughed once or twice, took a sip of water from a glass in front of him and then he began.

  “The legend of Camelot is one of the most enduring and compelling stories in Western literature and civilisation,” he began. “It may well be that this place never existed, that King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table are all pure fiction, but this does not alter the fact that the story and spirit of Camelot has been written about for well over a thousand years and continues to exert a pull on people’s imagination today.” He paused and looked around the hall. Was everyone paying attention? He thought so. He could not see the reaction of one person in particular in his audience who took offence at the remark that Camelot and the Court of King Arthur was all pure fiction.

  “Camelot represented the highest Order of Chivalry in a hierarchical society of a royal and mystical Britain. For knights of the realm to attain honour and advancement in such a society meant to dedicate themselves to the service of others; to fight evil; to always act nobly and righteously; to never lie, cheat or pursue material gain and particularly to honour, serve and do the bidding of ladies of the court.”

  Dr Jeffries asked where did such a notion of chivalry come from. “The word is derived from old Latin caballerius, or horseman, from which is derived cabellero in Spanish and chevalier in French and it is associated with the conduct of the knight or gentleman at court. This code of ethics some say came about with the spread of Christianity through Europe and persisted despite the decline of the Roman Empire, but this is too easy an explanation. Not dissimilar notions of chivalry also existed in other lands: in ancient Japan and also in Moorish society. If it is part of any religion one must ask – why? We must look a little deeper.”

  The historian warmed to his theme. “The answer, in my view, is that the chivalrous ethic is a product and essential component of agricultural societies where status, wealth and power all derive from the ownership of land and property. The issue of title to land thus becomes of supreme importance. Legitimate title is obtained principally by birthright, or it might be gained as a reward from the king or landlord who has it in his power to confer title for meritorious service. Hence in an age where birth certificates did not exist we have an elaborate code of ethics surrounding and distinguishing legitimate as aga
inst illegitimate birth. Secondly, in an age without antibiotics where sexually transmitted diseases were widespread and could not be cured, promiscuous conduct threatened the health and stability of family inheritance. The noble knight and his intended bride should thus be both of pure blood. Thirdly, the fact was that marriage for the nobility was a matter of arranging an approved distribution of ownership, power and prestige in society. It was not a matter of love or sexual attraction, yet we know that such emotion is a basic human psychological drive. Put all these three elements together and thus chivalry becomes the code for the outlet of human passions: The desire to protect the economic and social order; to sublimate the aggressive male instinct in service to the king; to ensure an ordered and legitimate passage to nobility for lower orders by proving one’s valour, and most important of all: to honour and serve ladies of the court that allowed for the notion of courtly love – of worship from afar, of the idolisation of the chaste maiden, but not the consummation of sexual desire outside marriage with its taboo on illegitimacy.”

  Dr Jeffries paused for breath at this point. He took a sip of water from a glass at the lectern and looked around the hall, though he was not yet ready to invite questions. Victoria, the newly appointed receptionist that had started with Gwen and Freddy could not wait for any invitation, however – she raised her hand and immediately took advantage of this hiatus in the proceedings.

  “Dr Jeffries, so far you have described chivalry and the spirit of Camelot only in terms of its implications for menfolk. Women do not seem to be of any importance in your world – except perhaps to stay at home and be worshipped from afar. Hardly an inspiring ethic for us to promote!”

  “Thank you for that interruption, young lady,” replied Dr Jeffries testily, who gave every indication that thanking Victoria was the last thing he wanted to do. “Let me enlarge upon the role of women in agricultural, pre-modern societies. At root, building, enlarging and protecting one’s ownership of land and property was a matter of physical combat. When all else fails to resolve disputes, men take to arms. In this age, physical strength determined outcomes. Women did not compete in this arena – they could hardly lift a double-handed sword, for example, let alone successfully despatch an opponent with it. But in ensuring the passage of title from one generation to another, of course, women played an absolutely crucial role. Their health and fecundity was prized above all else. The maiden was thus idolised and as a result matching maidens with pure and noble knights was an exercise in the distribution of power. Women were well-practised in the art of matchmaking. In addition to bearing children and thus playing a vital role in ensuring stability in the transfer of title, if the exercise of physical strength and skill in combat was a key determinant in resolving disputes so ladies of the court grew adept in manipulating this weapon also, that is – their menfolk. Men developed physical prowess. Women developed their intellectual and diplomatic prowess. History is full of examples of women who were feared for their witchcraft, scheming and intrigue – code for their ability to outwit and exploit physical force for their own ends.”

  At this stage Elizabeth Morley did not want the occasion to stray any further away from the desired objective – to promote the Hotel Group’s vision of the spirit of Camelot that they wished all staff to take aboard. She asked Dr Jeffries to sum up. The emphasis on serving the king, on a hierarchical society where upholding the law was important and of earning knighthood through good deeds – all this dovetailed neatly with the desired internal culture and organisation of the multinational corporation, where the directors were the elite and promotion could be earned by lower orders if they defended and complied with directives from above. The Hotel Group wanted more of this.

  Dr Jeffries did as he was bade and concluded his presentation, running methodically through the various points he had covered and, in his academic manner, quoting various sources and justifying the logic of his argument.

  Not that this had any interest for a certain young lady present in the audience who had come recently and magically directly from the Court of King Arthur. She had listened respectfully and attentively to the account so far but had grown increasingly agitated at how the ideals by which she had been raised and had come to inform her entire outlook had been reduced to some dry and uninspiring monologue. She had been standing between Gareth Jones and Dai Mervyn, who was another less-than-satisfied listener, and she had hardly been able to contain her frustration at times. She had been snorting, fidgeting and muttering throughout Dr Jeffries lecture, occasionally digging her companions and whispering: “Merlyn, Sir Gareth – this poltroon knows nothing…”

  The meeting was finally given over to questions and comments from the assembly – a session that Elizabeth Morley was anxious to control and, of course as the senior employer present, someone that none wanted to antagonise. She invited participation from the floor. There was an awkward silence as no one wanted to speak. Then Tom Hughes, assistant manager and as well-mannered as any knight from a distant age, raised his voice and proffered the opinion that Dai Mervyn was the one person in the audience who was perhaps the most experienced and knowledgeable on the origins of Camelot and its relevance to the site where the present hotel stood. He wondered if Dai would like to give the assembled staff the benefit of his wisdom?

  All heads turned to face Dai Mervyn, a character well known to everyone in the hall.

  “I thank thee kindly, Tom, for the invitation to speak. ‘Tis well known by many that I’ve lived and worked here for most of my seventy years and I guess I know more about this place’s affiliation with the legend of Camelot than most…that is until I met someone recently who has more knowledge of the spirit of Camelot than any I’ve ever come across and certainly more than myself. Don’t let her young looks fool you; she’s a-side o’ me now. Gwen, I think it’s only fair you should say your piece…”

  There was a rustle of interest from amongst the gathered throng and the Lady Gwendolyn blushed in response. She squeezed Dai Mervyn’s hand.

  “That’s a cruel trick, Merlyn,” she whispered, her eyes twinkling up at him.

  “No, ‘tis your right. Go ahead, Gwen.” He beckoned her to speak.

  The Lady Gwendolyn glanced up at the front of the assembly at the two people she had heard speak but two she did not know in the slightest: the invited historian, Dr Boring Jeffries and Mrs Sourface Morley, the disapproving head of human relations. These two, Gwen thought, had no real idea of what they were talking about. They had reduced a treasured ideal to something merely useful, mundane and about as inspiring as a dinner plate. When Gwen spoke up she could not prevent an outpouring of emotion.

  “The spirit of Camelot that I’ve heard described just now I do not recognise! The ideal of Camelot is something that shines across the entire country, across the entire world that I know of. It is an ideal that has attracted the noblest, the most honourable, the most valiant knights and ladies in the land. And more – the poorest and lowest-born look to Camelot as the light that brightens their darkness; it gives hope to those most maltreated; it gives resolve to those who face hardship, and it gives purpose to the highborn who wish to prove their honour and spread the ideal abroad. Camelot is an inspiration to all who live in a world of barbarians – those who know no better than to fight over futile possessions – and who dream of something nobler, more worthy, something to lift their spirits and attain something good and lasting where all else is mean and shallow and impermanent. Does our distinguished speaker not know of the Feast of Pentecost where, each year the Knights of the Round Table assemble to swear their allegiance to the spirit of Camelot? Such an uplifting, exhilarating, enthralling ceremony that brings tears of joy to all who witness it and which resonates around the citadel and inspires all who live there? To see the strongest, most gallant, most intrepid of knights kneel before his chosen lady, or before the Queen Guinevere, and pledge to do battle against all evil, to oppose all cruelty, but to give mercy unto him that asketh mercy; to covet no worldly goods
; to take up no wrongful quarrel; to conquer all base emotion and to serve and protect his lady with his life…all this cannot but move the most stone-hearted observer…though I hear of no reference to this today. There is such a wealth of love, honour and respect that dwells within the heart of Camelot and enriches the lives of all who live there. The shared comradeship and sense of unity, the bond between all those of the citadel, this is truly a magnificent, a magical force of good to set against all evil. There are many who would willingly sacrifice their lives for this ideal of Camelot and those who know not of all this, who have no knowledge or understanding of such devotion are the poorer for it. What do people live to create in this world? Where are the tallest and most inspiring buildings in this land and what ideals do they espouse? I have seen nothing to compare to the brilliance, the incandescence of Camelot…”

  The Lady Gwendolyn came to a close, her voice draining away. She looked around, the colour in her face still flushed with emotion. Dai Mervyn looked back with affection and no little pride. Gareth Jones just marvelled at her with eyes wide open and would have applauded, given the chance. Everyone else was just dumb, dazed and too taken aback to do or say anything. An awkward silence reigned.

  Elizabeth Morley was the first to seize the initiative. “Well, ah, thank you, to that speaker for giving us her view on the spirit of Camelot. Erm…the inspiration of that legend is certainly something we would want to cherish, though the World Travellers Hotel Group does not normally require its employees to lay down their life in its service…ha! ha!…”

  She blundered on but now there was a rising buzz of conversation that grew in the assembly. Dai Mervyn, Gareth Jones and one rather emotional Lady Gwendolyn could not listen to any more and so they eased their way to the back of the banqueting hall where they escaped as soon as the speechifying came to an end.

  “Well done, Gwen,” said Gareth Jones in admiration as they emerged into the morning sun. “You certainly showed up the two of them, on stage there. I never knew you were so passionate about Camelot.”