Arthur Rex (16 page)

“Lady,” said he, “no doubt there was a moral to the adventure in which I was involved, the sorry initial results of which I am happy to see were not permanent. But should we not pursue the meaning of this mystery in private?”

“Lascivious boy,” said the lady sternly, “’tis time thou didst go beyond thy simple philosophy of groins.”

And to be so chided before the entire company of knights, Sir Gawaine was abashed, but he was also defiant. “But,” said he, “if you were not killed by me, wherein lies the lesson I should learn? And what of mine obligation to be the peculiar defender of ladies?”

“The latter thou hast ever been,” said the Lady of the Lake, and then she smiled, for Sir Gawaine had charm even for such as she (and as there is much boy in any lecher, there is some mother even in faery women). “But thou art lacking in generosity to men. The knight whom thou didst fell yielded to thee. Yet thou wouldst have cut off his head had I not intervened.”

Now Gawaine protested. “Twice earlier he yielded. Then, when I spared him, twice he rose and attacked me again. Surely there is some limit to mercy towards the deceitful.”

“Nay,” said the Lady of the Lake, “there is no limit to mercy, and the treacherous need it most of all.”

“Then,” asked Sir Gawaine, “these yieldings and forgivings should have continued
ad infinitum?”

“Until,” said the lady, “thou slewest him standing.”

Now old Merlin did thrill with admiration for this lady, and her divine command of ruth, and he wished to impress her by some means. Therefore he said to King Arthur, “Methinks I must needs go away, now that you have your Round Table, its complement of knights (except for those who will come), and your queen.”

And in truth King Arthur was somewhat weary of the old magician and his devilry, but nonetheless he professed polite regret and asked whether Merlin would remain away for long.

Now in his state of assotment with the Lady of the Lake, Merlin did boast, “Know you, King Arthur, that the matter of Britain is but one of the many irons I have in the fire. There are a myriad stars in the sky, and there is an universe in a drop of water. The air you breathe is not an emptiness, but a fluid in which swim minuscule particles, the which if made to collide together in a certain way could explode all of Camelot.”

But the Lady of the Lake did grimace at him, saying, “What rot you talk, old man.”

“My lady,” said Merlin, “if you would accompany me to my alchemical laboratory I might show you these wonders.”

“I am bored,” said the lady, “by the physical application of reason. I am interested only in that which is mythical. Thou, Merlin, art incapable of making a true miracle. Thou hast never lifted a great weight except by levers, the which thou hast concealed from men’s eyes by putting them under hypnotic spell. And all of thy tricks have been such legerdemain, for when human wits are befuddled Time seems to stop, gravity is suspended, and matter is transparent. But a charlatan can so perform at a fair: and all mortals yearn to be gulled.”

Now her scorn did pique old Merlin, but deliciously, and he said, “Lady, if you will come with me I shall show you marvels not so easily dismissed, clear diamonds I have made from swart coal, and pearls from grains of sand. And a glass through which I can look into the body of a man and sees his bones and entrails, and a black box, the which I call a camera obscura, with which I can take me, upon an emulsion, a likeness of anything in Nature, like unto a picture painted of it.”

“These are but childish sports with matter,” said the Lady of the Lake, “but art thou capable of transforming Envy, Vanity, and Spite into the virtues of Self-Respect, Generosity, and Patience?” But then she sighed and said, “However, I shall come with thee, for the time for thy departure is at hand.”

And the Lady of the Lake and Merlin then left the court, and King Arthur was not sorry to see them go; and as for King Pellinore, he was resentful at first as is any man who must recognize his own flaw as having been correctly identified, and he wondered why, if the results of Gawaine’s failing had proved lot to be permanent, his own daughter’s death must be real and not an illusion: for his mistake had been mere neglect, which was to say passive, whereas Gawaine’s, being one of action, would seem much worse: and thus Pellinore was yet the victim of confusion.

But Sir Gawaine did ponder on what the Lady of the Lake had told him, and he determined to be a better knight in future, for ’twas true that he had been wont to see other men only as rivals and therefore he had no male friends.

Now Merlin and the Lady of the Lake reached the Enchanted Forest, where they came upon the weird well of Alaban, where Uther Pendragon’s couriers had found the wizard many years before, and he had gone to the king on their summons, and had begun the thing that led to this moment.

“Now, lady,” he said, “you shall see what no other, male nor female, hath ever seen nor even heard of, for I confess that I love you with all mine heart.” And he went to a great stone near by, the which he lifted with the tip of his littlest finger, discovering thereunder a flight of stone steps which led down into the ground.

But the Lady of the Lake shook her head and said, “Merlin, thy stone is made of parchment, is it not? And painted to resemble granite? Were it not for its hinges, concealed beneath, the wind would carry it away.”

“Well,” said Merlin, “there are more cunning things below.” And he went down the stair, and he touched the wall there and a radiant light appeared, the which revealed a vast subterranean chamber, where there were many strange engines and countless vessels of glass containing corrosive fluids, and it smelled of brimstone.

“This sulphurous odor,” said Merlin, “is the alchemist’s and not the Devil’s, though to be sure my father was an imp.”

“Thy father,” said the Lady of the Lake, “was a mendicant friar, and he did get thy mother, a milkmaid, with child, which became thee. As a boy thou wert assailed by cries of ‘Bastard!’ And couldst not fight the whole world, poor fellow. Therefore, thy wits being keen, thou didst decide to live by them, and not by the sword—or the begging bowl.”

Old Merlin sank to a seat upon a bench on which alongside him an alembic boiled. “Then King Pellinore spake right,” said he sadly. “You are needlessly cruel.”

“It is but the truth,” said the lady, “which is oft harsh. But what I know will never go farther than this chamber, Merlin, for I do not despise thee (except insofar as thou wouldst pretend to supernatural powers). Thou hast made much more of thyself than could be expected. And thou hast provided great aid to King Arthur in his gallant experiment to make noble that which hath ever been mean. But now thy time hath come to leave him, for in the irony that so characterizes human affairs, it is thee who art the realist, while he will go ever further into the legendary.”

Now Merlin had recovered from his hurt pride and he doted on the Lady of the Lake more than ever. Therefore he sought again to fascinate her with his inventions: a box from which light played through a hole and cast images upon a white sheet affixed against a wall; a large horn, erected upon an engine which moved in a circular fashion, which did emit music; and two cups of tin, joined by a waxed cord, the which when pulled taut would conduct words spoken into one cup to the ear against which the other was held close.

And the lady examined these things politely, without showing disdain, but yet they seemed to her like unto battledores and shuttlecocks, for the entertainment of small boys.

“Thou art comfortable here,” said she finally, “in thy cave of alchemy. Therefore here thou shalt remain and never come out again.”

“That I should do happily,” said the old magician, “were you to stay with me, for to speak truly, now that Arthur hath all the furniture required to reign well, he would seem to need me no longer. And knowing you, I have learned to appreciate women at long last. With my practical cunning and your supernatural powers, lady, there is nothing that we could not manage.”

“Nay, old man,” said the Lady of the Lake, “thou canst not so confine the feminine principle, though ’tis quite masculine so to try.” Yet she was not so unfeeling as the libelous scribes would oft depict her in time to come, and she did promise to visit Merlin sometimes. And this she hath done throughout the centuries, for she is immortal, and as to Merlin, though he has no fiendish blood, he is long-lived through his lack of traffic with other humanity, for all men would live forever if they were not, as the Stagirite hath said, social animals.

N
OW THE TIME CAME
when King Arthur decided to send Sir Tristram as emissary to King Mark of Cornwall, to determine why it was that Mark had not sent him evidences of fealty, for the Cornish lands were traditionally part of Britain, and Mark’s predecessor Gorlois had styled himself but a duke, and he was, as we have seen, a vassal of Uther Pendragon’s (and former husband of Arthur’s mother the fair Ygraine, as well as father to Arthur’s half-sisters Margawse, Morgan la Fey, and Elaine).

So Tristram did undertake this mission and he left Camelot. But he had not gone many leagues when he heard an halloo come from behind him, and he therefore stopped and turned, and he saw a knight putting his lance in the rest, for to begin a charge upon him. Now being a great master in the art of arms, Tristram held his own horse stock-still, for this was not a tournament but a matter in which lives might well be in the balance, and when his adversary reached him, Sir Tristram deflected the other’s lance with his own, and in the momentum of the charge, the other lost his grasp upon the weapon and it fell between the two horses. Therefore the other knight wheeled and drew his sword.

Now retaining his own lance Tristram had the advantage, but while he considered whether the principles of courtesy would call for his discarding it, so that the fight could continue with like weapons betweens equals in chivalry, the other knight chopped his lance in twain. Therefore Sir Tristram hurled the broken shaft away and he drew his own sword, and for a long time both knights occupied themselves each with hacking at the shield of the other. And Sir Tristram found his adversary was indeed a mighty man and as formidable as himself with the sword if not even more so, but at last his own horse did trip in a hole in the ground, and he fell to the earth.

Now the other knight did dismount as well, and Tristram saw that he was a man of great honor. And so they fought afoot, and the fight that had begun in midmorning continued till the sun had begun to fall in the western sky, and both men were weary and sore from much buffeting, and here and there each had hacked pieces of armor from the other, and their shields were cracked and splintered.

But finally Sir Tristram put all his remaining force into a mighty blow, the which would surely have cut through the crown of his opponent’s helmet and the skull as well, had not the other smote him in the side at the same moment, though happily with the flat of the blade, so causing his own sword to turn and also strike with the flat. Even so, its power was such as to knock the other knight to the earth, where he lay senseless.

Now Tristram unlaced and removed the helm of the fallen man, and he saw that he had fought all the day with Sir Gawaine.

Now when Gawaine awakened, Sir Tristram said to him, “My lord, I never knew it was you. And for your part, I can not but think that you mistook me for another. How terrible that we companions of the Round Table should smite each other!”

But Gawaine replied full of shame, “Sir Tristram, alas! It was no mistake that I attacked you, for I was well aware of your identity. I confess I did so in a mean exercise of envy, for which I humbly beg your forgiveness. Now, not only have you proved that your prowess at arms exceeds mine own, but your gracious assumption that I fought you through error is further evidence of your nobility, whereas I am ignobled in every regard.”

And he did rise and take up his sword, with the intent to break it upon a rock and so degrade himself, but Sir Tristram stayed his arm.

“My friend,” said he with the greatest feeling, “firstly, thou art the most worthiest knight I have ever striven with. Look how mine armor is hacked and dented, and I fear thy final blow hath come near to splintering my ribs though it was given with only the flat of the blade. And as to nobility, when I was thrown from mine horse, thou might have stayed on thine and had the advantage, but thou didst not, else the issue would surely have been reversed. The difference between us was a thing of chance. Now let us join our hands and swear in fellowship that never will we fight each other again, but be sweet friends always.”

And Sir Gawaine did grasp his hand and swear this, for he now understood that in a knight of the Round Table valor was ever to be conjoined with generosity, and so he conquered his envy.

Then they did wish each other to go with God, and Sir Gawaine went back towards Camelot whilst Sir Tristram resumed his journey to Cornwall, and when after many days he reached Tintagel, in his battered armor and carrying no lance, he was seized by King Mark’s discourteous guards and cast into a dungeon.

Now he might have stayed forever in that evil cell, where the walls were wet and his only company were the rats who came to share the stale bread sometimes thrust in to him, had not the warder come within that dungeon once, bringing him a basin of water and a towel and commanding him to wash. And Sir Tristram did this gladly, for he had not been able to bathe since leaving Camelot.

Now so soon as he had dried himself, the warder, who was a detestable sodomite (and Tristram was a handsome knight), did purpose to perform with him a vicious crime against Nature, but Tristram seizing his neck did break it quickly and made egress from the cell wearing only his shirt, for the warder had torn away his hose. And though he was now clean, his hair was uncombed and his beard unkempt, and therefore as he went through the castle looking for King Mark he was thought to be a madman by those who saw him, amongst them more than a few ladies, and he was avoided by all as if a wild creature.