MAINLY the Round
Table talk was monologues --
narrative accounts
of the adventures in which these
prisoners were captured and their
friends and backers killed and
stripped of their steeds and
armor. As a general thing --
as far as I could make out --
these murderous adventures were
not forays undertaken to avenge
injuries, nor to settle old disputes
or sudden fallings out; no, as
a rule they were simply duels
between strangers -- duels between
people who had never even been
introduced to each other, and
between whom existed no cause
of offense whatever. Many a time
I had seen a couple of boys,
strangers, meet by chance, and
say simultaneously, "I can lick
you," and go at it on the spot;
but I had always imagined until
now that that sort of thing belonged
to children only, and was a sign
and mark of childhood; but here
were these big boobies sticking
to it and taking pride in it
clear up into full age and beyond.
Yet there was something very
engaging about these great simple-hearted
creatures, something attractive
and lovable. There did not seem
to be brains enough in the entire
nursery, so to speak, to bait
a fish-hook with; but you didn't
seem to mind that, after a little,
because you soon saw that brains
were not needed in a society
like that, and indeed would have
marred it, hindered it, spoiled
its symmetry -- perhaps rendered
its existence impossible.
There was a fine manliness
observable in almost every face;
and in some a certain loftiness
and sweetness that rebuked your
belittling criticisms and stilled
them. A most noble benignity
and purity reposed in the countenance
of him they called Sir Galahad,
and likewise in the king's also;
and there was majesty and greatness
in the giant frame and high bearing
of Sir Launcelot of the Lake.
There was presently an incident
which centered the general interest
upon this Sir Launcelot. At a
sign from a sort of master of
ceremonies, six or eight of the
prisoners rose and came forward
in a body and knelt on the floor
and lifted up their hands toward
the ladies' gallery and begged
the grace of a word with the
queen. The most conspicuously
situated lady in that massed
flower-bed of feminine show and
finery inclined her head by way
of assent, and then the spokesman
of the prisoners delivered himself
and his fellows into her hands
for free pardon, ransom, captivity,
or death, as she in her good
pleasure might elect; and this,
as he said, he was doing by command
of Sir Kay the Seneschal, whose
prisoners they were, he having
vanquished them by his single
might and prowess in sturdy conflict
in the field.
Surprise and astonishment flashed
from face to face all over the
house; the queen's gratified
smile faded out at the name of
Sir Kay, and she looked disappointed;
and the page whispered in my
ear with an accent and manner
expressive of extravagant derision
--
"Sir KAY, forsooth!
Oh, call me pet names, dearest,
call me
a marine! In twice a thousand
years shall the unholy invention
of man labor at odds to beget
the fellow to this majestic lie!"
Every eye was
fastened with severe inquiry
upon Sir Kay.
But he was equal to the occasion.
He got up and played his hand
like a major -- and took every
trick. He said he would state
the case exactly according to
the facts; he would tell the
simple straightforward tale,
without comment of his own; "and
then," said he, "if ye find glory
and honor due, ye will give it
unto him who is the mightiest
man of his hands that ever bare
shield or strake with sword in
the ranks of Christian battle
-- even him that sitteth there!" and
he pointed to Sir Launcelot.
Ah, he fetched them; it was a
rattling good stroke. Then he
went on and told how Sir Launcelot,
seeking adventures, some brief
time gone by, killed seven giants
at one sweep of his sword, and
set a hundred and forty-two captive
maidens free; and then went further,
still seeking adventures, and
found him (Sir Kay) fighting
a desperate fight against nine
foreign knights, and straightway
took the battle solely into his
own hands, and conquered the
nine; and that night Sir Launcelot
rose quietly, and dressed him
in Sir Kay's armor and took Sir
Kay's horse and gat him away
into distant lands, and vanquished
sixteen knights in one pitched
battle and thirty-four in another;
and all these and the former
nine he made to swear that about
Whitsuntide they would ride to
Arthur's court and yield them
to Queen Guenever's hands as
captives of Sir Kay the Seneschal,
spoil of his knightly prowess;
and now here were these half
dozen, and the rest would be
along as soon as they might be
healed of their desperate wounds.
Well, it was touching to see
the queen blush and smile, and
look embarrassed and happy, and
fling furtive glances at Sir
Launcelot that would have got
him shot in Arkansas, to a dead
certainty.
Everybody praised the valor
and magnanimity of Sir Launcelot;
and as for me, I was perfectly
amazed, that one man, all by
himself, should have been able
to beat down and capture such
battalions of practiced fighters.
I said as much to Clarence; but
this mocking featherhead only
said:
"An Sir Kay
had had time to get another
skin of sour wine
into him, ye had seen the accompt
doubled."
I looked at the boy in sorrow;
and as I looked I saw the cloud
of a deep despondency settle
upon his countenance. I followed
the direction of his eye, and
saw that a very old and white-bearded
man, clothed in a flowing black
gown, had risen and was standing
at the table upon unsteady legs,
and feebly swaying his ancient
head and surveying the company
with his watery and wandering
eye. The same suffering look
that was in the page's face was
observable in all the faces around
-- the look of dumb creatures
who know that they must endure
and make no moan.
"Marry, we shall have it a
again," sighed the boy; "that
same old weary tale that he hath
told a thousand times in the
same words, and that he WILL
tell till he dieth, every time
he hath gotten his barrel full
and feeleth his exaggeration-mill
a-working. Would God I had died
or I saw this day!"
"Who is it?"
"Merlin, the
mighty liar and magician, perdition
singe him
for the weariness he worketh
with his one tale! But that men
fear him for that he hath the
storms and the lightnings and
all the devils that be in hell
at his beck and call, they would
have dug his entrails out these
many years ago to get at that
tale and squelch it. He telleth
it always in the third person,
making believe he is too modest
to glorify himself -- maledictions
light upon him, misfortune be
his dole! Good friend, prithee
call me for evensong."
The boy nestled himself upon
my shoulder and pretended to
go to sleep. The old man began
his tale; and presently the lad
was asleep in reality; so also
were the dogs, and the court,
the lackeys, and the files of
men-at-arms. The droning voice
droned on; a soft snoring arose
on all sides and supported it
like a deep and subdued accompaniment
of wind instruments. Some heads
were bowed upon folded arms,
some lay back with open mouths
that issued unconscious music;
the flies buzzed and bit, unmolested,
the rats swarmed softly out from
a hundred holes, and pattered
about, and made themselves at
home everywhere; and one of them
sat up like a squirrel on the
king's head and held a bit of
cheese in its hands and nibbled
it, and dribbled the crumbs in
the king's face with naive and
impudent irreverence. It was
a tranquil scene, and restful
to the weary eye and the jaded
spirit.
This was the old man's tale.
He said:
"Right so the
king and Merlin departed, and
went until an hermit
that was a good man and a great
leech. So the hermit searched
all his wounds and gave him good
salves; so the king was there
three days, and then were his
wounds well amended that he might
ride and go, and so departed.
And as they rode, Arthur said,
I have no sword. No force *,
said Merlin, hereby is a [* Footnote
from M.T.: No matter.] sword
that shall be yours and I may.
So they rode till they came to
a lake, the which was a fair
water and broad, and in the midst
of the lake Arthur was ware of
an arm clothed in white samite,
that held a fair sword in that
hand. Lo, said Merlin, yonder
is that sword that I spake of.
With that they saw a damsel going
upon the lake. What damsel is
that? said Arthur. That is the
Lady of the lake, said Merlin;
and within that lake is a rock,
and therein is as fair a place
as any on earth, and richly beseen,
and this damsel will come to
you anon, and then speak ye fair
to her that she will give you
that sword. Anon withal came
the damsel unto Arthur and saluted
him, and he her again. Damsel,
said Arthur, what sword is that,
that yonder the arm holdeth above
the water? I would it were mine,
for I have no sword. Sir Arthur
King, said the damsel, that sword
is mine, and if ye will give
me a gift when I ask it you,
ye shall have it. By my faith,
said Arthur, I will give you
what gift ye will ask. Well,
said the damsel, go ye into yonder
barge and row yourself to the
sword, and take it and the scabbard
with you, and I will ask my gift
when I see my time. So Sir Arthur
and Merlin alight, and tied their
horses to two trees, and so they
went into the ship, and when
they came to the sword that the
hand held, Sir Arthur took it
up by the handles, and took it
with him. And the arm and the
hand went under the water; and
so they came unto the land and
rode forth. And then Sir Arthur
saw a rich pavilion. What signifieth
yonder pavilion? It is the knight's
pavilion, said Merlin, that ye
fought with last, Sir Pellinore,
but he is out, he is not there;
he hath ado with a knight of
yours, that hight Egglame, and
they have fought together, but
at the last Egglame fled, and
else he had been dead, and he
hath chased him even to Carlion,
and we shall meet with him anon
in the highway. That is well
said, said Arthur, now have I
a sword, now will I wage battle
with him, and be avenged on him.
Sir, ye shall not so, said Merlin,
for the knight is weary of fighting
and chasing, so that ye shall
have no worship to have ado with
him; also, he will not lightly
be matched of one knight living;
and therefore it is my counsel,
let him pass, for he shall do
you good service in short time,
and his sons, after his days.
Also ye shall see that day in
short space ye shall be right
glad to give him your sister
to wed. When I see him, I will
do as ye advise me, said Arthur.
Then Sir Arthur looked on the
sword, and liked it passing well.
Whether liketh you better, said
Merlin, the sword or the scabbard?
Me liketh better the sword, said
Arthur. Ye are more unwise, said
Merlin, for the scabbard is worth
ten of the sword, for while ye
have the scabbard upon you ye
shall never lose no blood, be
ye never so sore wounded; therefore,
keep well the scabbard always
with you. So they rode into Carlion,
and by the way they met with
Sir Pellinore; but Merlin had
done such a craft that Pellinore
saw not Arthur, and he passed
by without any words. I marvel,
said Arthur, that the knight
would not speak. Sir, said Merlin,
he saw you not; for and he had
seen you ye had not lightly departed.
So they came unto Carlion, whereof
his knights were passing glad.
And when they heard of his adventures
they marveled that he would jeopard
his person so alone. But all
men of worship said it was merry
to be under such a chieftain
that would put his person in
adventure as other poor knights
did." |