Idylls of the King Page 5

  And while she past,

  Came yet another widow crying to him,

  ‘A boon, Sir King! Thine enemy, King, am I.

  With thine own hand thou slewest my dear lord,

  345 A knight of Uther in the Barons’ war,

  When Lot and many another rose and fought

  Against thee, saying thou wert basely born.

  I held with these, and loathe to ask thee aught.

  Yet lo! my husband’s brother had my son

  350 Thrall’d in his castle, and hath starved him dead;

  And standeth seized of that inheritance

  Which thou that slewest the sire hast left the son.

  So tho’ I scarce can ask it thee for hate,

  Grant me some knight to do the battle for me,

  355 Kill the foul thief, and wreak me for my son.’

  Then strode a good knight forward, crying to him,

  ‘A boon, Sir King! I am her kinsman, I.

  Give me to right her wrong, and slay the man.’

  Then came Sir Kay, the seneschal, and cried,

  360 ‘A boon, Sir King! ev’n that thou grant her none,

  This railer, that hath mock’d thee in full hall –

  None; or the wholesome boon of gyve and gag.’

  But Arthur, ‘We sit King, to help the wrong’d

  Thro’ all our realm. The woman loves her lord.

  365 Peace to thee, woman, with thy loves and hates!

  The kings of old had doom’d thee to the flames,

  Aurelius Emrys would have scourged thee dead,

  And Uther slit thy tongue: but get thee hence

  Lest that rough humour of the kings of old

  370 Return upon me! Thou that art her kin,

  Go likewise; lay him low and slay him not,

  But bring him here, that I may judge the right,

  According to the justice of the King:

  Then, be he guilty, by that deathless King

  375 Who lived and died for men, the man shall die.’

  Then came in hall the messenger of Mark,

  A name of evil savour in the land,

  The Cornish king. In either hand he bore

  What dazzled all, and shone far-off as shines

  380 A field of charlock in the sudden sun

  Between two showers, a cloth of palest gold,

  Which down he laid before the throne, and knelt,

  Delivering, that his lord, the vassal king,

  Was ev’n upon his way to Camelot;

  385 For having heard that Arthur of his grace

  Had made his goodly cousin, Tristram, knight,

  And, for himself was of the greater state,

  Being a king, he trusted his liege-lord

  Gareth and Lynette

  Would yield him this large honour all the more;

  390 So pray’d him well to accept this cloth of gold,

  In token of true heart and feälty.

  Then Arthur cried to rend the cloth, to rend

  In pieces, and so cast it on the hearth.

  395 An oak-tree smoulder’d there. ‘The goodly knight!

  What! shall the shield of Mark stand among these?’

  For, midway down the side of that long hall

  A stately pile, – whereof along the front,

  Some blazon’d, some but carven, and some blank,

  400 There ran a treble range of stony shields, –

  Rose, and high-arching overbrow’d the hearth.

  And under every shield a knight was named:

  For this was Arthur’s custom in his hall;

  When some good knight had done one noble deed,

  405 His arms were carven only; but if twain

  His arms were blazon’d also; but if none,

  The shield was blank and bare without a sign

  Saving the name beneath; and Gareth saw

  The shield of Gawain blazon’d rich and bright,

  410 And Modred’s blank as death; and Arthur cried

  To rend the cloth and cast it on the hearth.

  ‘More like are we to reave him of his crown

  Than make him knight because men call him king.

  The kings we found, ye know we stay’d their hands

  415 From war among themselves, but left them kings;

  Of whom were any bounteous, merciful,

  Truth-speaking, brave, good livers, them we enroll’d

  Among us, and they sit within our hall.

  But Mark hath tarnish’d the great name of king,

  420 As Mark would sully the low state of churl:

  And, seeing he hath sent us cloth of gold,

  Return, and meet, and hold him from our eyes,

  Lest we should lap him up in cloth of lead,

  Silenced for ever – craven – a man of plots,

  Craft, poisonous counsels, wayside ambushings –

  425 No fault of thine: let Kay the seneschal

  Look to thy wants, and send thee satisfied –

  Accursed, who strikes nor lets the hand be seen!’

  And many another suppliant crying came

  With noise of ravage wrought by beast and man,

  430 And evermore a knight would ride away.

  Last, Gareth leaning both hands heavily

  Down on the shoulders of the twain, his men,

  Approach’d between them toward the King, and ask’d,

  ‘A boon, Sir King (his voice was all ashamed),

  435 For see ye not how weak and hungerworn

  I seem – leaning on these? grant me to serve

  For meat and drink among thy kitchen-knaves

  A twelvemonth and a day, nor seek my name.

  Hereafter I will fight.’

  To him the King,

  440 ’A goodly youth and worth a goodlier boon!

  But so thou wilt no goodlier, then must Kay,

  The master of the meats and drinks, be thine.’

  He rose and past; then Kay, a man of mien

  Wan-sallow as the plant that feels itself

  Root-bitten by white lichen,

  445 ’Lo ye now!

  This fellow hath broken from some Abbey, where,

  God wot, he had not beef and brewis enow,

  However that might chance! but an he work,

  Like any pigeon will I cram his crop,

  450 And sleeker shall he shine than any hog.’

  Then Lancelot standing near, ‘Sir Seneschal,

  Sleuth-hound thou knowest, and gray, and all the hounds;

  A horse thou knowest, a man thou dost not know:

  Broad brows and fair, a fluent hair and fine,

  455 High nose, a nostril large and fine, and hands

  Large, fair and fine! – Some young lad’s mystery –

  But, or from sheepcot or king’s hall, the boy

  Is noble-natured. Treat him with all grace,

  Lest he should come to shame thy judging of him.’

  460 Then Kay, ‘What murmurest thou of mystery?

  Think ye this fellow will poison the King’s dish?

  Nay, for he spake too fool-like: mystery!

  Tut, an the lad were noble, he had ask’d

  For horse and armour: fair and fine, forsooth!

  465 Sir Fine-face, Sir Fair-hands? but see thou to it

  That thine own fineness, Lancelot, some fine day

  Undo thee not – and leave my man to me.’

  So Gareth all for glory underwent

  The sooty yoke of kitchen-vassalage;

  470 Ate with young lads his portion by the door,

  And couch’d at night with grimy kitchen-knaves.

  And Lancelot ever spake him pleasantly,

  But Kay the seneschal, who loved him not,

  Would hustle and harry him, and labour him

  475 Beyond his comrade of the hearth, and set

  To turn the broach, draw water, or hew wood,

  Or grosser tasks; and Gareth bow’d himself

  With
all obedience to the King, and wrought

  All kind of service with a noble ease

  480 That graced the lowliest act in doing it.

  And when the thralls had talk among themselves,

  And one would praise the love that linkt the King

  And Lancelot – how the King had saved his life

  In battle twice, and Lancelot once the King’s –

  485 For Lancelot was the first in Tournament,

  But Arthur mightiest on the battle-field –

  Gareth was glad. Or if some other told,

  How once the wandering forester at dawn,

  Far over the blue tarns and hazy seas,

  490 On Caer-Eryri’s highest found the King,

  A naked babe, of whom the Prophet spake,

  ‘He passes to the Isle Avilion,

  He passes and is heal’d and cannot die’ –

  Gareth was glad. But if their talk were foul,

  495 Then would he whistle rapid as any lark,

  Or carol some old roundelay, and so loud

  That first they mock’d, but, after, reverenced him.

  Or Gareth telling some prodigious tale

  Of knights, who sliced a red life-bubbling way

  500 Thro’ twenty folds of twisted dragon, held

  All in a gap-mouth’d circle his good mates

  Lying or sitting round him, idle hands,

  Charm’d; till Sir Kay, the seneschal, would come

  Blustering upon them, like a sudden wind

  505 Among dead leaves, and drive them all apart.

  Or when the thralls had sport among themselves,

  So there were any trial of mastery,

  He, by two yards in casting bar or stone

  Was counted best; and if there chanced a joust,

  510 So that Sir Kay nodded him leave to go,

  Would hurry thither, and when he saw the knights

  Clash like the coming and retiring wave,

  And the spear spring, and good horse reel, the boy

  Was half beyond himself for ecstasy.

  515 So for a month he wrought among the thralls;

  But in the weeks that follow’d, the good Queen,

  Repentant of the word she made him swear,

  And saddening in her childless castle, sent,

  Between the in-crescent and de-crescent moon,

  520 Arms for her son, and loosed him from his vow.

  This, Gareth hearing from a squire of Lot

  With whom he used to play at tourney once,

  When both were children, and in lonely haunts

  Would scratch a ragged oval on the sand,

  525 And each at either dash from either end –

  Shame never made girl redder than Gareth joy.

  He laugh’d; he sprang. ‘Out of the smoke, at once

  I leap from Satan’s foot to Peter’s knee –

  These news be mine, none other’s – nay, the King’s –

  530 Descend into the city:’ whereon he sought

  The King alone, and found, and told him all.

  ‘I have stagger’d thy strong Gawain in a tilt

  For pastime; yea, he said it: joust can I.

  Make me thy knight – in secret! let my name

  535 Be hidd’n, and give me the first quest, I spring

  Like flame from ashes.’

  Here the King’s calm eye

  Fell on, and check’d, and made him flush, and bow

  Lowly, to kiss his hand, who answer’d him,

  ‘Son, the good mother let me know thee here,

  540 And sent her wish that I would yield thee thine.

  Make thee my knight? my knights are sworn to vows

  Of utter hardihood, utter gentleness,

  And, loving, utter faithfulness in love,

  And uttermost obedience to the King.’

  545 Then Gareth, lightly springing from his knees,

  ‘My King, for hardihood I can promise thee.

  For uttermost obedience make demand

  Of whom ye gave me to, the Seneschal,

  No mellow master of the meats and drinks!

  550 And as for love, God wot, I love not yet,

  But love I shall, God willing.’

  And the King –

  ‘Make thee my knight in secret? yea, but he,

  Our noblest brother, and our truest man,

  And one with me in all, he needs must know.’

  555 ‘Let Lancelot know, my King, let Lancelot know,

  Thy noblest and thy truest!’

  And the King –

  But wherefore would ye men should wonder at you?

  Nay, rather for the sake of me, their King,

  And the deed’s sake my knighthood do the deed,

  Than to be noised of.’

  560 Merrily Gareth ask’d,

  ‘Have I not earn’d my cake in baking of it?

  Let be my name until I make my name!

  My deeds will speak: it is but for a day.

  So with a kindly hand on Gareth’s arm

  565 Smiled the great King, and half-unwillingly

  Loving his lusty youthhood yielded to him.

  Then, after summoning Lancelot privily,

  ‘I have given him the first quest: he is not proven.

  Look therefore when he calls for this in hall,

  570 Thou get to horse and follow him far away.

  Cover the lions on thy shield, and see

  Far as thou mayest, he be nor ta’en nor slain.’

  Then that same day there past into the hall

  A damsel of high lineage, and a brow

  575 May-blossom, and a cheek of apple-blossom,

  Hawk-eyes; and lightly was her slender nose

  Tip-tilted like the petal of a flower;

  She into hall past with her page and cried,

  ‘O King, for thou hast driven the foe without,

  580 See to the foe within! bridge, ford, beset

  By bandits, everyone that owns a tower

  The Lord for half a league. Why sit ye there?

  Rest would I not, Sir King, an I were king,

  Till ev’n the lonest hold were all as free

  585 From cursed bloodshed, as thine altar-cloth

  From that best blood it is a sin to spill.’

  ‘ Comfort thyself,’ said Arthur, ‘I nor mine

  Rest: so my knighthood keep the vows they swore,

  The wastest moorland of our realm shall be

  590 Safe, damsel, as the centre of this hall.

  What is thy name? thy need?’

  ‘My name?’ she said –

  ‘Lynette my name; noble; my need, a knight

  To combat for my sister, Lyonors,

  A lady of high lineage, of great lands,

  595 And comely, yea, and comelier than myself.

  She lives in Castle Perilous: a river

  Runs in three loops about her living-place;

  And o’er it are three passings, and three knights

  Defend the passings, brethren, and a fourth

  600 And of that four the mightiest, holds her stay’d

  In her own castle, and so besieges her

  To break her will, and make her wed with him:

  And but delays his purport till thou send

  To do the battle with him, thy chief man

  605 Sir Lancelot whom he trusts to overthrow,

  Then wed, with glory: but she will not wed

  Save whom she loveth, or a holy life.

  Now therefore have I come for Lancelot.’

  Then Arthur mindful of Sir Gareth ask’d,

  610 ‘Damsel, ye know this Order lives to crush

  All wrongers of the Realm. But say, these four,

  Who be they? What the fashion of the men?’

  ‘They be of foolish fashion, O Sir King,

  The fashion of that old knight-errantry

  615 Who ride abroad, and do but what they will;

  Courteous or bestia
l from the moment, such

  As have nor law nor king; and three of these

  Proud in their fantasy call themselves the Day,

  Morning-Star, and Noon-Sun, and Evening-Star,

  620 Being strong fools; and never a whit more wise

  The fourth, who alway rideth arm’d in black,

  A huge man-beast of boundless savagery.

  He names himself the Night and oftener Death,

  And wears a helmet mounted with a skull,

  625 And bears a skeleton figured on his arms,

  To show that who may slay or scape the three,

  Slain by himself, shall enter endless night.

  And all these four be fools, but mighty men,

  And therefore am I come for Lancelot.’

  630 Hereat Sir Gareth call’d from where he rose,

  A head with kindling eyes above the throng,

  ‘A boon, Sir King – this quest!’ then – for he mark’d

  Kay near him groaning like a wounded bull –

  ‘Yea, King, thou knowest thy kitchen-knave am I,

  635 And mighty thro’ thy meats and drinks am I,

  And I can topple over a hundred such.

  Thy promise, King,’ and Arthur glancing at him,

  Brought down a momentary brow. ‘Rough, sudden,

  And pardonable, worthy to be knight –

  640 Go therefore,’ and all hearers were amazed.

  But on the damsel’s forehead shame, pride, wrath

  Slew the May-white: she lifted either arm,

  ‘Fie on thee, King! I ask’d for thy chief knight,

  And thou hast given me but a kitchen-knave.

  645 Then ere a man in hall could stay her, turn’d,

  Fled down the lane of access to the King,

  Took horse, descended the slope street, and past

  The weird white gate, and paused without, beside

  The field of tourney, murmuring ‘kitchen-knave.’

  650 Now two great entries open’d from the hall,

  At one end one, that gave upon a range

  Of level pavement where the King would pace

  At sunrise, gazing over plain and wood;

  And down from this a lordly stairway sloped

  655 Till lost in blowing trees and tops of towers;

  And out by this main doorway past the King.

  But one was counter to the hearth, and rose

  High that the highest-crested helm could ride

  Therethro’ nor graze: and by this entry fled

  660 The damsel in her wrath, and on to this

  Sir Gareth strode, and saw without the door

  King Arthur’s gift, the worth of half a town,

  A warhorse of the best, and near it stood