Morgana's Handmaid and the Creature of the Dungeon

by Purple Hazel

  Finally the opportunity Arthur was hoping for literally walked right through the door. One day when holding court, King Arthur received a delegation of diplomats from, of all people, the Roman Emperor Lucius.

  Now to be fair, this was not the old Roman Empire that had once controlled England under Emperor Julius Caesar, and later Hadrian. That had been many years ago. Rome was only a shadow of what it had once been. But still, the Holy See was located there, and from the ruins of the empire which had once held dominion over the entire known world emerged a new ambitious leader who wanted to flex his muscles, perhaps even return Rome to her former glory.

  The Rome delegation visited Camelot and stayed there a few days awaiting an audience with the King. Arthur finally held a banquet in their honor to receive them. Alguin in those days had a place he could crawl up to inside the castle that was well hidden from view, and from there, he could watch what was happening. Alguin would simply pose as a servant and move about the castle with ease, then find his special hiding place to perch and watch the activity below.

  As Alguin described it, “Twelve old men in imperial diplomat attire, including fancy togas and golden sashes, arrived at the feast bearing, of all things—olive branches.”

  How ironic! They were in reality ambassadors from the Roman Emperor Lucius and these esteemed visitors carried his absurd request that Arthur now pay a truage that was owed Rome as his predecessors had done many years before.

  “Arthur was visibly amused,” Alguin said, with a raised eyebrow. “In fact, the whole Round Table burst out laughing!” How could ROME expect our kingdom to pay tribute once again? I could only wonder. “It hast been nearly a hundred and fifty years since the last garrison wast abandoned and the last Roman centurion left our shores!” exclaimed Alguin, still flabbergasted over what he’d seen.

  The Ambassadors very patiently cautioned King Arthur that if he refused to pay, Rome and her allies would have rights to make war against our land. “This,” Alguin further said, “riled some of the knights. Several stood up grabbing their sword handles or spitting out orders to their squires to bring them their weapons!”

  Lancelot of course was the leading firebrand in the room that night. He did not drink, because of his Pentecostal Oath; but if he did have one vice in this world, it was a fierce temper. Alguin said, “The scene almost turned into bloody violence when Lancelot sprang to his feet.” Lancelot was deeply insulted by the audacity of those emissaries admonishing our King with threats. “Extorting money from my lord’s kingdom, as protection from invasion? RUBBISH!” bellowed Lancelot.

  But Arthur calmed his men, and commanded the ambassadors to leave the room so that he might have time to consult with his knights on the matter. Alguin said the ambassadors were then more than gracious in their exit, despite our knights spoiling for a chance to lop off their heads. Sir Cornwall—grandson of Gorlois—was the first to speak, as Lancelot sat and fumed with destabilizing rage.

  Cornwall observed, “Sire, the army is rested. The knights are quite ready to go to war with Rome.” Another one of the knights reiterated those thoughts, and soon all were pledging to muster their troops. “I’ll go!” shouted one. “We’re with you sire!” yelled others. All soon joined in; until there was not one disaffirming opinion in the room.

  “Arthur was only being crafty, see?” Alguin theorized. “Most likely planned on refusing the demands to pay tribute anyway, but he wanted all his knights to buy into the idea first, so that it would be THEY who urged HIM to refuse the Emperor’s request. It worked perfectly. Arthur sent out his chamberlain to give the message to those ambassadors from Rome; telling them to return to their Emperor with our flat refusal. He didn’t even receive them back in his court, probably for their own safety!” And with that we were at war…with Rome!

  What happened next, we basically had to piece together from the stories that made it back to England throughout the next year. Emperor Lucius was not surprisingly quite angered by Arthur’s message. The way his emissaries translated it to him, Lucius got the impression Arthur was impudent. “That would have been incorrect, actually,” explained Alguin. “Arthur was not the least bit rude to them. Those ambassadors from Rome were in real danger, mind! Arthur was only making sure they got out of Camelot alive!”

  Nevertheless, that’s what Lucius thought, and his emissaries probably painted a picture that was more influenced by the way Arthur’s knights behaved at the banquet, rather than Arthur’s conduct. To be sure, Alguin felt like Arthur could have taken the time to meet with those foreign dignitaries privately and make sure they took a much softer refusal back to Rome. “Then again, why bother?” as Alguin put it. “Arthur in my opinion likely wanted a war with Rome. Defeating Lucius and his allies would mean great wealth and plunder for his armies when we marched into Europe!”

  Yes, Emperor Lucius was angered by Arthur’s message, no doubt about it, and even though his advisers warned him against battling Arthur’s forces, he called upon his many European allies to prepare for just that! Within a year we heard Lucius had gathered an army of sixteen kings, and hired mercenaries from all over the continent to join him. They departed Rome and marched on Cologne, where they besieged castles and destroyed counties in the surrounding region, eliminating factions that were nominally allies of Arthur. This gave Arthur the excuse he needed to mobilize and invade Europe!

  Brash, young, and ambitious knights appeared almost every week at Camelot, reporting with their muster of soldiers for the campaign. Old men longed to join in as well, but wisely avoided the call for troops—and I could tell even my aging lover Alguin was desperately trying to suppress the desire to rejoin his previous profession and march off with the young lads. I knew he’d never go, even though he was fully capable. But it fired his imagination, I could see!

  Ships were loaded with provisions, the fleet started ferrying troops across the channel to Gaul, and Arthur soon began establishing a reinforced encampment on the Normandy coast for troops to arrive from our kingdom. With his departure, the proud citizens of Camelot sadly bid goodbye to our great king. Prayers were said for his safe return.

  However in his absence, he left Morgana’s son Prince Mordred in charge of the kingdom instead of his wife Queen Gwynevere! This normally would have seemed quite odd, giving control of the kingdom to a young, inexperienced prince when his queen virtually ran the entire castle when he’d been out on campaign in the past. But as Alguin explained it, “This was for a very, very good reason.” Only a few months before his departure, Arthur had been forced to deal with his wife’s recently discovered indiscretions…

  You see, over the years, the relationship between Gwynevere and Lancelot had grown…and blossomed. Arthur, who always seemed to be focused on matters of state, was simply not there for her as a husband. He loved her surely, but could not make her the center of attention in his world—not in the way she’d been accustomed to as a girl. Her father Lodegreaunce pampered her and spoiled her as a child. Arthur didn’t do those things. He was kind and accommodating; giving her the freedom to enjoy her daily existence however she pleased. Yet he never doted on her. And soon that so-called friendship between Gwynevere and Lancelot turned into an affair.

  Alguin knew about it for some time, and he’d been updating me over the years whenever there was a fresh bit of gossip. The development of that relationship into a sexual affair was so subtle and clandestine that people didn’t pick up on what might be going on for the longest time. Alguin had a sense about it, and because he was usually observing things from hidden places within the palace, he could see people behaving as if they thought no one was looking.

  As I mentioned earlier about what I’d seen when I was also at Camelot, Lancelot was not a flirtatious fellow. Didn’t have girlfriends. He was always being pursued by women, sure. But he spoke awkwardly with them. He tried to be kind and chivalrous to them at every opportunity, yes, but never slept with any of them. Never! Many tried to seduce him I can assure you, but only one woman
succeeded.

  No one seemed to suspect what was going on. That is until the matter was exposed by Morgana. Well…not really. Morgana simply figured out something everyone else had missed. Gwynevere you see had abnormally bad menstrual pain during her monthly cycle and would often be away from her husband during those times suffering from cramps and the maladies of femininity. We knew about it when I was a handmaid, but never spoke of it with anyone. Morgana developed potions to enable her to sleep better, and for a time it seemed the two were starting to become friends.

  Not so, it turned out. Morgana was merely trying to get close to her so she could gain information. And, oh, what Morgana found out! During her monthly cycle, she and Arthur slept in different parts of the castle. That is, Gwynevere would sequester herself from Arthur in a separate chamber when she was having her “monthly visitor”; or Arthur would sleep in one of the guest rooms. Using the excuse that she didn’t want to offend her husband, eventually Gwynevere roomed with her handmaids before having private quarters constructed.

  Meanwhile, Gwynevere poured on the charm with Sir Lancelot, and now that she had her own private boudoir at her disposal any time in the castle, it was only a matter of tempting the dashing knight into violating his cherished oath. When Morgana figured out that it was all a ruse to avoid her husband so she could have Lancelot alone at night, my old boss had the means of removing Gwynevere as an obstacle once and for all.

  That said, it took a great amount of time before Gwynevere induced Lancelot to take her to bed. She couldn’t get him drunk. He wouldn’t drink! But finally nature took its sordid course, and Lancelot gave in. Alguin knew this, because Gwynevere’s handmaids talked about it when they thought no one was listening. Lancelot began spending the night in her private room, exiting only at dawn.

  “You can’t be serious,” I exclaimed, when Alguin told me of this. “Lancelot? Arthur’s favorite? The king’s bravest of all knights? Oh, please lover, tell me he did not do such a thing!” But Alguin could only nod and sigh, embarrassedly. “Aye, my dear. I am afraid it is the truth. I hath seen it with my own eyes—it is not hearsay. He enters late in the evening. Then leaves with the sunrise.”

  Now Morgana truly had something to work with! When she began to discover the goings on—Lancelot leaving his chambers late at night to make his way to Gwynevere’s private quarters—Morgana knew she could expose them and their affair. But Morgana was even craftier than that and actually set up another person to “discover” their indiscretions.

  Morgana had been working on one of Lancelot’s rivals, Sir Mellyagaunce, dropping hints to him about Lancelot not being the shining example of the Pentecostal Oath he was purported to be. That’s what Mellyagaunce had always resented about Lancelot was that he was so bloody perfect, and Arthur was always holding him out as an example that other knights should follow.

  So one morning, suddenly and quite coincidentally, Sir Mellyagaunce reported that he had personally witnessed a blood stain on her bed indicating that she had most certainly had relations with a man during the night. His assertion was that he had “heard the maids talking” and suspected that illicit activities had been occurring in the queen’s bedchamber.

  Yes, I know that sounds absurd. But in Sir Mellyagaunce’s naïve mind, the blood stain could only mean that a woman had enjoyed intercourse and the resulting penetration must have caused bleeding. Arthur at the time had been away for weeks, so all eyes turned to Lancelot as the queen’s secret lover.

  Upon finding blood in Gwynevere’s bed, Sir Mellyagaunce was so convinced of her unfaithfulness to Arthur that he was willing to fight in an attempt to prove it to others. That was the last straw for Gwynevere. Fed up with these terrible accusations, and knowing the ramifications if she were tried for infidelity, Guinevere made it known to her confidants and entourage that she wanted Mellyagaunce dead, Alguin told me.

  “And, as the loyal servant of both Arthur and Gwynevere,” he explained, “Lancelot promptly challenged and later killed Sir Mellyagaunce in a duel, that very day, even though many would say afterward that Mellyagaunce at one point clearly begged for mercy.”

  When Arthur returned there would be lots of questions to be answered; that was for certain! But alas, after Sir Mellyagaunce was slain, the rumors stopped dead in their tracks for a time. That’s how popular, and feared, Lancelot was at Camelot in those days.

  Indeed Arthur soon returned, and any attempts to pursue the matter were abruptly quashed. “Maybe they feared Gwynevere,” Alguin speculated, “and maybe they feared Lancelot even more, but upon Arthur’s return, no one dared speak of it.”

  Sir Mellyagaunce was dead, and his death was attributed to a quarrel that turned into insult and subsequently a deadly duel. Satisfied with this explanation and certainly grateful that the ongoing feud between the two nobles had now ended with an honorable death and the survival of his best knight, Arthur settled the matter once and for all. No accusations about the infidelity were brought to his attention, and the otherwise very busy King went right back to preparing for his campaign.

  However, after only a short period of time following Sir Mellyagaunce’s death, the two adulterers began again with their trysts; and Princess Morgana merely had to wait and let nature take its course. Relieved at having escaped public exposure, the pair eventually started behaving carelessly. Lancelot began to see Queen Gwynevere privately, and again forget the promises that he’d made in his solemn oath.

  Alguin would see them together repeatedly during this period, meeting in private hallways thinking they were alone, and embracing like young lovers enjoying private moments when no one was apparently watching. They indulged in more and more public displays, too, thinking that no one would dare say anything. “Or maybe they stopped caring, I’m not really sure,” as Alguin described it. “Soon people started talking about it…first the servants, then visiting nobles and finally their gossipy wives.”

  Such a clamor arose—an uproar within the kingdom that seemed to feed upon itself, just like I’d seen personally! Once popular and above reproach, Lancelot was gradually seen as a traitor to his best friend King Arthur. Gwynevere by way of comparison was seen as a lustful woman guilty of seducing a heretofore virtuous knight. As usual, the woman got most of the blame. Men of course wanted to believe that a contemptible female was the cause of it; and women of the nobility naturally turned on one of their own, feeling the queen should have remained chaste and loyal to her husband; suppressing her needs. After all, most of them were in arranged marriages too; and few if any enjoyed passionate relations with their noble husbands.

  The only choice for Arthur, now repeatedly faced with damning accusations of infidelity against his wife, was to take decisive action. Given no alternatives, he had to order her to be burned at the stake—unless a champion came forth to prove she was innocent!

  Not surprisingly, it became Prince Mordred himself, the only rightful heir to the throne after Arthur, who pushed for exposure of the affair, and for justice to be served. He was supported by his half-brother Aggravayne who came forward demanding that the ancient laws regarding adultery in the case of royalty be enforced. To me that sounded a lot like Morgana felt there was enough outcry regarding this public disgrace that her own son Prince Mordred could come forward and successfully demand such deadly “justice.”

  Therefore; following the letter of the law, Arthur ordered Mordred, as her official accuser, and three of his half-brothers Gareth, Gawain, and Gaheris from Orkney, to join together and escort Gwynevere to the stake for her execution. Interestingly enough though, their brother Gawain protested this aberrant humiliation of the queen. Taking the queen under armed guard to be burned at the stake was more than honorable Gawain could tolerate, given his knightly oath to respect noble ladies. So out of respect for their objecting brother, the others shed their swords and daggers, choosing instead to escort Gwynevere to the platform unarmed.

  The kingdom was riveted with excitement and apprehension at the news of the plan
ned execution! Alguin and I attended the event, with me in disguise as an old peasant woman once again, and Alguin of course in charge of building the pyre for the execution, posing as “Vile.”

  The whole court, the whole town for that matter, and people from all over the countryside attended and there was an enormous crowd gathered for the spectacle. I only hoped that Alguin would get away from there before Mordred and his brothers showed up with Gwynevere! Everyone and I do mean everyone fully expected Lancelot to appear at almost any moment, and I surely didn’t want my Alguin to face that mad devil in combat!

  Gwynevere was then stripped of her royal dress as royal squires cloaked her in a holocaust robe and knights respectfully bowed their heads so as not to gaze upon her naked body. She was then chained up, and the four men—Mordred and his half-brothers—awaited the inevitable. They seemed to be awaiting some signal to commence with the execution. But from whom would it come? Who was to give such a signal? It would be the King normally, but was Arthur going to order that mountain of sticks and logs set alight and thus abandon his adulterous wife to an unimaginably horrible death? We all, and Arthur included I’m sure, were awaiting the arrival of Lancelot. Everyone knew he’d come back and—just like we expected—he finally did. Arthur especially must have prayed to God in heaven that he would.

  Chapter 12

  End of an Era

  Birds were chirping and the sun began to splash golden rays of light, shining down into alleyways next to buildings flanking the town square as the sun rose above the town. It was otherwise almost completely silent. Everyone seemed to be frozen in anticipation.

  People in attendance that morning understood fully that by showing his face on the field, Lancelot would be nothing more than a tragic hero, whether he won or lost. Likely he’d carry the day against the brothers from Orkney. That was to be expected. They were unarmed, and even as an older man Lancelot was still fast as lightning in personal combat.