Complete Works of Howard Pyle

by Howard Pyle

  In the centre of the cell there lay a couch and upon the couch there lay a figure as still as death and Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine beheld that it was the Lady Elaine who lay there. Her hair lay spread out all over the pillow of the couch, shining like to pure gold, and in the midst of the hair her face shone very white, like to pure clear wax for whiteness. Her eyes looked, as it were, from out of a faint shadow and gazed ever straight before her and she never stirred nor moved her gaze as Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine and Sir Lavaine entered her cell; for it was as though her looks were fixed upon something very strange that she beheld a great distance away.

  They behold the young child.

  Then Sir Lavaine, speaking in a whisper, said, “Come near and behold,” and thereupon Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine came close to the couch upon which the Lady Elaine lay. So when they had come nigh, Sir Lavaine lifted the coverlet very softly and they beheld that a new-born babe lay beside the lady upon that couch. Then they wist that that babe was the child of Sir Launcelot of the Lake and the Lady Elaine; and they wist that this was the babe of whom Merlin had spoken in his prophecy. For the child was very wonderfully beautiful, and it was as though a certain clear radiance of light shone forth from its face; and it lay so perfectly still that it was like as though it did not live. So Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine knew because of these and several other things that this must indeed be that very child whom they had come to find. Yea, it was as though a voice from a distance said: “Behold! this is that one who shall achieve the Quest of the Holy Grail according to the prophecy of Merlin.”

  So Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine kneeled down beside the bed and set their palms together, and Sir Lavaine stood near them, and for a while all was very silent in that place. Then suddenly the Lady Elaine spake in that silence in a voice very faint and remote but very clear, and as she spake she turned not her eyes toward any one of them, but gazed ever straight before her. And she said, “Sir Bors, art thou there?” and Sir Bors said, “Yea, Lady.”

  The Lady Elaine bespeaketh Sir Bors.

  Then she said: “Behold this child and look you upon him, for this is he who shall achieve the Quest of the Holy Grail and shall bring it back to the earth again. So he shall become the greatest knight that ever the world beheld. But though he shall be the greatest champion at arms that ever lived, yet also he shall be gentle and meek and without sin, innocent like to a little child. And because he is to be so high in chivalry and so pure of life, therefore his name shall be called Galahad.” And she said again, “Sir Bors, art thou there?” and he said, “Yea, Lady.”

  She said: “My time draweth near, for even now I behold the shining gates of Paradise, though it yet is that I behold them faintly, as through a vapor of mist. Yet anon that mist shall pass, and I shall behold those gates very near by and shining in glory; for soon I shall quit this troubled world for that bright and beautiful country. Nevertheless, I shall leave behind me this child who lieth beside me, and his life shall enlighten that world from which I am withdrawing.” Then she said for the third time, “Sir Bors, art thou there?” And Sir Bors wept, and he said, “Yea, Lady, I am here.”

  Then the Lady Elaine said: “Take thou this child and bear him hence unto a certain place that thou shalt find. Thou shalt know that place because there shall go before thee a bird with golden plumage, and it shall show thee where thou art to take this child. Leave the child at that place whither the bird shall lead thee, and tell no man where that place is. For this child must hide in secret until the time shall come when he shall be manifested to the world.” And she said, “Hearest thou me, Sir Bors?” And Sir Bors, still weeping, said, “Yea, Lady.”

  Then she said: “Go and tarry not in thy going, for the ending is very near. Wait not until that end cometh, but go immediately and do as I have asked thee to do.”

  Sir Bors departeth with the young child.

  Then, still weeping, Sir Bors arose from where he kneeled, and he took the young child and he wrapped it in his cloak and he went out thence and was gone, taking the babe with him.

  And this while Sir Gawaine and Sir Lavaine also wept, and ever Sir Gawaine still kneeled and Sir Lavaine stood beside him.

  Such is the story of the nativity of Sir Galahad, who afterward achieved the Quest of the Holy Grail as was prophesied in the prophecy of Merlin.

  The passing of Elaine the Fair.

  That same day the Lady Elaine died about the middle watch of the night, departing from this world in great peace and good content, and Sir Gawaine and Sir Lavaine were with her at the time of her passing.

  Then Sir Gawaine said, weeping, “Let me go and fetch Sir Launcelot of the Lake hither.” But Sir Lavaine, speaking very sternly, said: “Let be and bring him not, for he is not worthy to be brought hither. But as for you, do you depart, for I have yet that to do I would do alone. So go you immediately and return unto the court of the King. But when you have come to the King’s court, I charge you to say nothing unto any one concerning the birth of the child Galahad, nor of how this sweet, fair lady is no more, for I have a certain thing to do that I would fain perform before those things are declared. So when you have come to court say nothing of these matters of which I have spoken.” To the which Sir Gawaine said, “Messire, it shall be as you desire in all things.”

  Sir Gawaine departeth from the priory.

  So immediately Sir Gawaine went forth and called for his horse, and they brought his horse to him and he mounted and departed from that place, leaving Sir Lavaine alone with his dead.

  And it remaineth here to be said that Sir Gawaine went directly from that place to the court of the King, and when he had come there he told only of those adventures that had happened to him when the Lady Vivien had bewitched him. But of those other matters: to wit, of the nativity of Galahad and of the death of the Lady Elaine, he said naught to any one but concealed those things for the time being in his own heart.

  Yet ever he pondered those things and meditated upon them in the silent watches of the night. For the thought of those things filled him at once with joy and with a sort of terror; with hope and with a manner of despair; wherefore his spirit was troubled because of those things which he had beheld, for he knew not what their portent might be.

  Conclusion

  NOW AFTER SIR Bors had departed and after Sir Gawaine had departed as aforesaid — the one at the one time and the other at the other — there came several of those of the priory to that cell of death. And they lifted up that still and peaceful figure and bare it away to the chapel of the priory. And they laid it upon a bier in the chapel and lit candles around about the bier, and they chanted all night in the chapel a requiem to the repose of the gentle soul that was gone. And when the morning light had dawned Sir Lavaine came to that chapel when the candles were still alight in the dull gray of the early day and he kneeled for a long time in prayer beside the bier.

  Thereafter and when he had ended his prayers, he arose and departed from that place, and he went to the people of the priory, and he said to them, “Whither is it that this river floweth?” They say: “It floweth down from this place past the King’s town of Camelot, and thence it floweth onward until it floweth into the sea to the southward.”

  Sir Lavaine findeth a boat.

  Sir Lavaine said, “Is there ere a boat at this place that may float upon the river?” And they say to him: “Yea, Messire, there is a barge and there is a man that saileth that barge and that man is deaf and dumb from birth.” At that Sir Lavaine said: “I pray you to bring me to where that deaf and dumb bargeman is.”

  So one of those to whom he spake took him to a certain place where was that barge, and the deaf and dumb bargeman. And the bargeman was a very old man with a long beard as white as snow and he gazed very steadfastly upon Sir Lavaine as he drew near thitherward. So Sir Lavaine came close to the bargeman and he made signs to him, asking him if he would ferry him down the stream to the King’s town, and the dumb bargeman understood what Sir Lavaine would have and he made signs in answer that it
should be as Sir Lavaine desired.

  Sir Lavaine with the dead lady departeth in the barge.

  After that Sir Lavaine gave command that the barge should be hung and draped all with white samite embroidered with silver and he gave command that a couch of white samite should be established upon the barge, and the covering of the couch was also embroidered with silver. So when all was in readiness there came forth a procession from the chapel, bearing that still and silent figure, and they brought it to the barge and laid it upon the couch of white samite that had been prepared for it. Thereafter Sir Lavaine entered the barge and took his station in the bow of the boat and the deaf and dumb man took his station in the stern thereof.

  Then the bargeman trimmed the sail and so the barge drew slowly away from that place, many standing upon the landing-stage and watching its departure.

  So they descend the flood.

  And after that the barge floated gently down the smooth stream of the river, and ever the deaf and dumb man guided it upon its way. And anon they floated down betwixt banks of rushes, with here and there a row of pollard willow-trees and thickets of alder. And all about them was the pleasant weather of the summertime, with everything abloom with grace and beauty.

  Then anon, departing from those marshy stretches with their rushes and their willows and their alders, they drifted past some open meadow-lands, with fields and uplands all trembling in the still hot sunlight. And after that they came to a more populous country where were several small towns and villages with here and there a stone bridge crossing the river. And at those places of habitation many came and stood upon a bridge beneath which they passed, and others stood upon the smooth and grassy banks of the stream and gazed in awe at that wonderful barge as it drifted by adown the flood. And they who thus gazed would whisper and marvel at what they beheld and would cross themselves for awe and terror.

  So ever they floated onward until at last they came to within sight of the town of Camelot.

  After that, in a little they came to the town and as they passed by the town walls, lo! a great multitude of people came and stood upon the walls and gazed down upon that white bedraped barge and those who were within. And all the people whispered to one another in awe, saying: “What is this and what doth it portend? Is this real or is it a vision that we behold?”

  So they come to Camelot.

  But ever that barge drifted onward past the walls and past those who stood thereon, and so, at last, it came to a landing-place of stone steps not far distant from the castle of the King. There the dumb bargeman made fast the barge to the iron rings of the landing-stage, and so that strange voyage was ended.

  Now at that time King Arthur and many of the lords and some of the ladies of his court sat at feast in the royal hall of the castle, and amongst those was Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere. So as they sat thus, there came one of a sudden running into the hall as in affright, and thereat all looked upon him and wondered wherefore he came into the hall in that way. Then King Arthur said, “What ails thee that thou comest hither to us thus?”

  King Arthur heareth news of the barge.

  Then he who came kneeled before King Arthur, and he said: “Lord, here is a wonderful thing. For down by the river there hath come a barge to the landing-stairs of the castle, and that barge is hung all with white samite embroidered with silver. And in the barge and upon a couch of white samite there lieth a dead lady so beautiful that I do not think her like is to be found in all of the earth. And a dumb man sits in the stern of the boat, and a noble young knight sits in the bow of the boat with his face shrouded in his mantle as though for grief. And that knight sits there as silent and as motionless as the dead lady, and the dumb man sits there also, like to an image of a man rather than a man of flesh and blood. Wherefore it is that I have come hither to bring you word of this wonderful thing.”

  Then King Arthur said: “This is indeed a most singular story that thou tellest us. Now let us all straightway go and see what this portendeth.”

  So the King arose from where he sat, and he descended therefrom, and he went forth out of the hall, and all who were there went with him.

  King Arthur and his court go to where is the barge.

  Now first of all there went King Arthur, and among those who were last there went Sir Launcelot of the Lake. For when he had heard of that dead lady he bethought him of the Lady Elaine and of how she was even then in tender health, wherefore he repented him with great bitterness of heart that he was not with her at that time instead of lingering at court as he did. And he said to himself: “Suppose that she should die like to this dead lady in the barge — what would I do if that should have happened unto me?” So it was that his feet lagged because of his heavy thoughts, and so it was that he was near the last who came to the riverside where was that barge as aforesaid.

  Now, there were many of the towns folk standing there, but upon King Arthur’s coming all those made way for him, and so he came and stood upon the upper step of the landing-stairs and looked down into the boat. And he beheld that figure that was lying there and knew it that it was the Lady Elaine who lay there dead.

  Then the King looked for a little upon that dead figure as it were in a sort of terror, and then he said, “Where is Sir Launcelot?”

  Sir Launcelot beholdeth the dead.

  Now when the King so spake, they who stood there made way, and Sir Launcelot came through the press and stood also at the head of the stairs and looked down into the barge. Then of a sudden — as it were in an instant of time — he beheld with his very eyes that thing which he had been thinking of anon; for there before him and beneath him lay in very truth the dead image of that dear lady of whom he had been thinking only a moment before.

  Then it was as though Sir Launcelot had suddenly been struck with a shaft of death, for he neither moved nor stirred. Nay, it was not to be perceived that he even so much as breathed. But ever he stood there gazing down into that boat as though he had forgotten for that while that there was anybody else in all of the world saving only himself and that dead lady. And many of those who were there looked upon the face of Sir Launcelot, and they beheld that his countenance was altogether as white as the face of that dead figure who lay in the barge beneath them.

  Sir Lavaine accuseth Sir Launcelot.

  Then a great hush of silence fell over all and every voice was stilled, and at that hush of silence Sir Lavaine lifted the hood from his face and looked up from where he sat in the boat at the feet of the dead lady, and so beheld Sir Launcelot where he stood. Then upon the instant Sir Lavaine stood up in the barge and he cried out in a great loud harsh voice: “Hah! art thou there, thou traitor knight? Behold the work that thou hast done; for this that thou beholdest is thy handiwork. Thou hast betrayed this lady’s love for the love of another, and so thou hast brought her to her death!”

  So said Sir Lavaine before all those who were there, but it was as though Sir Launcelot heard him not, for ever he stood as though he were a dead man and not a living man of flesh and blood. Then of a sudden he awoke, as it were, to life, and he clasped the back of his hands across his eyes, and cried out in a voice as though that voice tore his heart asunder, “Remorse! Remorse! Remorse!” saying those words three times over in that wise.

  Then he shut his lips tight as though to say no more, and thereupon turned and went away from that place.

  Sir Launcelot departeth.

  And he turned neither to this side nor to that, but went straight to the castle of the King, and there ordered that his horse should be brought forth to him upon the instant. So when his horse was brought he mounted it and rode away; and he bade farewell to no one, and no one was there when he thus departed.

  So for a long while Sir Launcelot rode he knew not whither, but after a while he found himself in the forest not far away from the cell of the hermit of the forest. And he beheld the hermit of the forest, that he stood in an open plat of grass in front of his cell and that he was feeding the wild birds of the woodlan
d; for the little feathered creatures were gathered in great multitudes about him, some resting upon his head and some upon his shoulders and some upon his hands. And a wild doe and a fawn of the forest browsed near by and all was full of peace and good content.

  But at the coming of Sir Launcelot, all those wild creatures took alarm; the birds they flew chirping away, and the doe and the fawn they fled away into the thickets of the forest. For they wist, by some instinct, that a man of sin and sorrow was coming thitherward; wherefore they were afeared and fled away in that wise.

  But Sir Launcelot thought nothing of this, but leaped from his horse, and ran to the hermit and flung himself down upon the ground before him and embraced him about the feet. And the hermit was greatly astonished and said, “What ails thee, Sir Launcelot?” Whereunto Sir Launcelot cried out: “Woe is me! Woe is me! I have sinned very grievously and have been grievously punished and now my heart is broken!”

  Then the hermit perceived that some great misfortune had befallen Sir Launcelot, wherefore he lifted Sir Launcelot to his feet and after that he brought him into his cell. And after they were in the cell together, he said: “Now tell me what ails thee, Sir Launcelot. For I believe that in telling me thou shalt find a great deal of ease.”

  So Sir Launcelot confessed everything to the hermit — yea, everything to the very bottom of his soul, and the good, holy man hearkened to him.

  Then after Sir Launcelot had said all that lay upon his heart, the hermit sat for a while in silence, communing with his spirit. And after a while he said: “Messire, God telleth me that if thy sin hath been grievous, so also hath thy punishment been full sore. Wherefore meseemeth I speak what God would have me say when I tell thee that though neither thou nor any man may undo that which is done, nor recommit that which is committed, yet there is this which thou or any man mayest do. Thou mayst bathe thy soul in repentance as in a bath of clear water (for repentance is not remorse but something very different from remorse), and that having so bathed thyself thou mayst clothe thyself as in a fresh raiment of new resolve. So bathed and so clad, thou mayst stand once more upon thy feet and mayst look up to God and say: ‘Lo, God! I am Thy handiwork. I have sinned and have done great evil, yet I am still Thy handiwork, who hath made me what I am. So, though I may not undo that which I have done, yet I may, with Thy aid, do better hereafter than I have done heretofore.’