The World of Camelot Read online

  ‘Is it the child or the truth that you do not want to hear? Yes, that boy spoke the truth, and had more to tell you but for your anger. God is displeased with you. You have lain with your sister, and on her you have gotten a child who shall destroy you and all the knights of your realm.’

  ‘Who are you?’ said the king.

  ‘I am the child, I am the old man, I am he who sees things unknown. I am Merlin. Listen, but do not marvel, for it is God’s will that your body shall be punished for your foul deed. Your fate is hard, but mine is worse. I shall be cast in the earth quick after a shameful death, but you shall die an honourable man.’

  Sadly, drawn together in their fate, king and wizard rode into Caerleon, where the king took thought on what he had been told. He asked Ector and Ulfius how he had been begotten, and they replied that it was as Merlin had said. So Arthur sent for Igraine, his mother, that he might hear it from her own lips. In haste Igraine came with her daughter, the beautiful Morgan le Fay, and the king welcomed them.

  That night, when they were feasting, Sir Ulfius was taken with drink and turned on the queen. ‘You are the most false lady in the world,’ he accused her, ‘and a traitress to the king’s person.’

  ‘Softly,’ Arthur warned. ‘Beware what you are saying. Those words must be made good.’

  ‘I am well aware,’ Ulfius replied. ‘I throw down my glove to any who says to the contrary. If this Queen Igraine had told of your birth during the life of King Uther, then there would have been no mortal wars. Your barons, knowing whose son you were, would have obeyed you.’ Slowly, Igraine lowered her eyes. She hardly dared to look upon the king.

  ‘I am a woman,’ she said, ‘I cannot fight. Rather than I should be dishonoured, let Merlin speak for me. Know that everything that happened to me was as if to a victim. First I loved my lord the duke, then I loved my lord King Uther. What I did was according to Merlin’s art. He took my child from me so that I never saw it, nor ever knew the name it was given. Well I know that, in both joy and grief, I bore a child to King Uther Pendragon. But what became of that child I do not know.’

  Then Sir Ector, who could not keep back the tears, bore witness to this tale, and Merlin took the king by the hand, saying, ‘Sir, here is your mother’. They came together and Arthur took his mother, Igraine, in his arms and kissed her, and they wept on each other. And then the king made a feast that lasted eight days.

  Soon there came news to the court that a strange knight had set up a pavilion in the forest, blocking the path. No man could pass by unless he jousted with the knight. So Arthur rode out at daybreak to the place, where he saw a well-armed knight lolling at ease in a chair before the pavilion.

  ‘Sir knight,’ said Arthur, ‘why do you bar the way, forcing unlucky men to joust with you? I advise you to give up that custom.’

  ‘Good or bad,’ replied the knight, ‘that is my custom, whether you like it or not. Try to change it if you will.’

  ‘Yes, I will amend it,’ said Arthur.

  ‘Then I shall defend it,’ answered the knight.

  Arthur dressed his shield and took a spear, and he and the knight rode so hard against each other that their spears were shivered in pieces. Then Arthur was angry. He drew his sword and smote the knight with many great strokes. They hewed and hacked at each other until the emblems flew from their helms into the field and the ground was spattered with their blood. Thus they fought, and rested, and fought again, hurtling together like two rams. At last, with a fierce clash of swords, the king’s weapon broke in two.

  ‘Yield or die!’ cried the knight in triumph.

  ‘Death is welcome when it comes,’ said Arthur, ‘but to surrender is to die of shame.’

  With that, he leapt forwards, grappling, till the knight tore the helm from the king and would have struck off his head had not Merlin appeared and stopped that murderous blow. Quickly, Merlin cast an enchantment on the knight, who fell at once to the earth in sleep, while Merlin tenderly took up the king and bore him away.

  ‘Alas, Merlin, what have you done?’ said Arthur. ‘Have you slain this best of knights by your magic crafts? He fought so well I would give my land to have him alive.’

  ‘Hush, do not fret,’ Merlin replied. ‘He is only asleep. He will awake in good time to do you service. His name is Pellinore, that same worthy whom you saw in pursuit of the Questing Beast. He shall be the father of Percival of Wales and Lamorak of Wales, two sons greater in prowess and nobility than all men but one. And Pellinore shall tell you the name of your own son, the one begotten of your sister, who shall be the cause of the destruction of all your realm.’

  Arthur listened, but he could not put his mind to the words. He was sore and battered, wounded and losing blood. Merlin led him to the hut of a hermit in the woods, a wise man practised in the use of salves and herbs. And there the king rested and was healed. After a while they rode forth again, and the king suddenly recalled the fight against Pellinore.

  ‘My sword is broken,’ he said to Merlin. ‘Shall I fight with no sword?’

  ‘Be not dismayed,’ replied Merlin. ‘Near this place there is a sword worthy of a king.’

  They came to a lake of broad water, and in the midst of it was an arm clothed in rich silk holding a sword that dazzled in the light.

  ‘That is the very sword I spoke of,’ said Merlin. ‘See there, the Lady of the Lake. She comes from a kingdom of rock within the water, a place as strange and wonderful as any on earth. She will come to you in a moment. Speak to her softly and with respect, and she will give you that sword.’

  ‘Most fair lady,’ said Arthur, ‘what sword is that, the one held above the water? It is a fine blade and ready to do work. I would it were mine, for I have no sword.’

  ‘Sir Arthur, O king,’ replied the lady, ‘that sword is mine. You shall have it. But give gift for gift. What shall I have in return?’

  ‘By my faith, you shall have whatever you ask.’

  ‘So be it. Step into that boat and row yourself to the sword. Take it, and the scabbard also. I will demand my gift when the time is right.’

  Arthur rowed into the lake, and the arm gave up the sword to him and slipped away under the water. On the shore, the king considered his prize. He smiled and tested the sword, and smiled again. Then he rode on to a fork in the path where a tent of gaudy colour commanded the way.

  ‘That pavilion,’ said Arthur pensively, ‘what does it signify?’

  ‘It is Sir Pellinore’s,’ replied Merlin, ‘he with whom you fought. He is distant now, pursuing other contests. But we shall meet him soon on the highway.’

  ‘Good. Now that I have a sword I shall avenge myself with hard blows against him.’

  ‘Do not do so, sir, for this knight is weary and not fit for honourable combat. Let him pass. In a short time he and his sons shall be useful to you.’

  Sadly, Arthur put up his new sword and rested it in the scabbard.

  ‘Which is better,’ Merlin now asked him, ‘sword or scabbard?’

  ‘The sword, of course.’

  ‘No, you are wrong. The scabbard is worth ten swords. That scabbard shall save you whole from all wounds, and from all loss of blood. Keep it always by your side.’

  Just then, Sir Pellinore rode into view, but Merlin threw an enchantment on him so that he rode by unseeing, with his head in the air.

  ‘I marvel,’ said Arthur, ‘that the knight would not speak.’

  ‘Sir, he saw nothing. But had he seen you, it would have led to blows.’

  So King Arthur came peacefully to Caerleon. His knights welcomed him with joy, glad that he was alive and well after he had ventured his arm and his honour in a stern fight, even as other poor knights had to do. But Arthur was not content. He brooded on the dark things that Merlin had told him about his son, the one begotten on his sister in sin. And seeing the king in this heaviness and knowing the cause of this complaint, Merlin advised him to kill all children born of lords and ladies on May Day. ‘That is the safest t
hing,’ said Arthur, and agreed. On pain of death, he ordered the children to be sent to him. In fear, many lords sent their babies, among whom was Mordred, sent by the wife of King Lot. Then all were put into a ship and consigned to the grim sea, though some were only four weeks old.

  Now it happened that the ship was driven onto the rocks below a castle and wrecked. All the children were killed except for Mordred, who was cast up on the beach. By luck he was discovered by a kindly man, a native of those parts, who took the babe home and kept him and nourished him as his own, until Mordred was of an age to seek his fortune in the world.

  But many barons of the realm, seeing their children cast away, were frightened and angered by the deeds of the king. They whispered with discontent, but they put the greater blame on Merlin, for they were in dread of King Arthur. They knew the duty that they owed to him as their lord, and so they held their peace.

  Balin le Savage

  There was a king called Rience, lord of north Wales and all Ireland and many other isles besides, who was a proud and mighty king and a good warrior. He had overcome eleven other kings. He had flayed the beards from their chins and worked them into the border of his cloak, and he intended to do the same for King Arthur. He sent a messenger to tell Arthur so. ‘Say to the king: there’s one space left in the border of my cloak where your beard will fit neatly.’

  ‘O, most shameful!’ Arthur replied. ‘I see that your king has never yet met a man of honour, but I will have his head unless he does homage to me.’

  Then Arthur summoned his barons and knights and went to Camelot to make his defence. When they were all gathered, a maiden came from the lady Lile of Avelion. She was richly dressed in a mantle trimmed with fur, but there was sorrow in her face. As she made her greetings to the king, her mantle fell open and Arthur saw a sword at her side.

  ‘Lady,’ he said, ‘why that sword? Is it proper for a maiden? It befits you not.’

  ‘That sword,’ she replied, ‘is a sad burden to me. Only a knight with clean hands and clean deeds may deliver me from it, a knight without villainy or treason. But where can I find such a man? I heard that there were noble knights at the court of King Rience. What did I find? All tried to draw this sword from the sheath, and all failed.’

  This was a great wonder to Arthur. He offered to try the sword himself. It was not in his mind that he was the best knight, but he did it to encourage his barons. He put one hand on the sword and the other on the girdle of the lady, and tugged so mightily that she was pulled clear off her feet.

  ‘Sir,’ she said hastily, ‘pull not half so hard. A small tug will draw the sword, if you be of gentle birth. But beware you be not defiled by shame or treachery.’

  Then most of the barons tried, one by one, but none could do it.

  ‘Alas,’ the maiden cried, ‘I thought this court had the best knights in the world.’

  ‘By my faith,’ said Arthur, ‘there are good knights here, as good as any, but I see they cannot help you. That is a great sadness to me.’

  Now, there was a poor knight in Arthur’s court whose name was Balin. He had killed the king’s cousin in an affray and was in prison for half a year. But he was a well-born knight from Northumberland of good and worthy name, so by intervention of certain high barons he was released. In the court, poor and ill dressed, he watched at the edge of the crowd, for he would not push forwards among so many noble men. He saw many knights try but fail to draw the sword. In his heart he knew he could do as well as any, had he but the chance. So when the maiden covered herself again in her mantle and turned from the court, Balin followed behind and called softly from the path.

  ‘Lady, of your courtesy, let me try. Though I am poor and poorly clothed, my heart is pure.’

  The maiden looked at the poor knight. He was a fine fellow, but how could one so tattered be without stain?

  ‘Sir,’ she said, ‘I have suffered enough pain and trouble. What warrant is there that you might succeed where noble men have failed?’

  ‘Ah, fair lady, look beyond clothes and raiment for worthiness. Manhood and honour are hidden within. Many a good knight rides unknown.’

  ‘By God, you speak the truth,’ she replied. ‘And so, good sir, try your best.’

  Balin grasped the sword by the handle and swiftly pulled it free. The blade was hard and fine and full of danger, and it pleased him much. Then the king and all the court marvelled that Balin, so poor a knight, had done this thing, and many barons were jealous.

  ‘’Tis true,’ said the maiden. ‘This is a worthy knight, the best that ever I have found. He shall do many marvels. Now, gentle sir, give me back the sword again.’

  Balin jumped back dismayed. ‘Nay, only force shall make me quit this sword.’

  ‘O unwise man!’ she warned. ‘With that sword you will slay him you love most in the world. It shall destroy you.’

  ‘I shall take whatever fortune God sends me,’ Balin replied. ‘But this sword you shall not have, except from my dead body.’

  Then the maiden looked on him with sorrow. ‘Soon, you shall repent. I grieve for you, and would have the sword for your sake, not mine.’ She looked at him again: so noble a young knight, and with such a spirit and high heart. She shook her head and departed.

  Soon Balin sent for horse and armour and went to take leave of King Arthur.

  ‘Stay,’ said the king. ‘Do not leave our noble fellowship so lightly. You are displeased with me? Forgive me. I was misinformed against you. Rest here, and I shall advance you as your prowess demands.’

  ‘God thank your lordship,’ Balin replied, ‘but adventure draws me onwards.’

  ‘Well, do not tarry long away. You are right welcome here.’

  But many knights of the court looked aside and muttered that Balin pulled the sword not by virtue, but by witchcraft.

  As Balin made ready to depart, the Lady of the Lake came riding to the court and without more ado demanded of King Arthur the gift he had promised her when she gave him her sword, from out of the lake. This was the sword called Excalibur, which is to say Cut-steel.

  ‘Give me the head of the knight that won the sword from the maiden,’ said the lady, ‘or else the head of the maiden herself. Indeed, I would take both heads, for he slew my brother and she was the cause of my father’s death.’

  ‘Nay, truly,’ replied Arthur, ‘on my honour I cannot grant you their heads. Ask for something else.’

  ‘Nothing. I will ask no other thing.’

  Just then Balin came by, with his sword girt by his side and his horse stepping eagerly on the road. He saw the Lady of the Lake and knew her to be the lady he had been seeking for three years, the one who had been the cause of his mother’s death. He went boldly to her, saying, ‘Evil woman, you would have my head, and therefore you shall lose yours.’

  With a swift stroke of his sword, he smote off her head in front of King Arthur.

  ‘For shame, what have you done?’ cried the king. ‘I owed this lady a gift and she comes here under safe conduct. You dishonour me, sir, and I shall never forgive you.’

  ‘That I regret,’ replied Balin. ‘But this same lady, by enchantment and sorcery, has been the destroyer of many good knights. By her falsehood she caused my mother to be burnt.’

  ‘Whatever your grievance,’ said Arthur, ‘her death has done me wrong. Therefore leave my court in all haste.’

  So Balin took the head of the lady, all bloody as it was, and gave it to his squire to take to Northumberland, as an evidence that his foe was no more.

  ‘But what shall you do now?’ asked his squire.

  ‘I shall seek King Rience, to destroy him or to die. And if perchance I capture him, then King Arthur will still be my good and gracious lord.’

  As Balin left the court, a certain Lanceor, a knight of Ireland who was jealous of the prowess of Balin, offered to ride after him and avenge the wrong done to the king.

  On a mountain they met, and Lanceor called out his challenge. With regret, Balin
turned. He wished no harm to any in Arthur’s court. But fight they must, for the challenge was given and taken. The shields were lowered, the long spears shook in their hands, the horses stamped the ground. Then they drove forwards. The blow from the Irish knight rang on the shield, but Balin’s spear pierced through coat of mail and body and the horse’s croup, leaving Lanceor as a corpse on the ground.

  As Balin looked up from the body, he saw a lady on a white palfrey riding towards him as fast as she could whip the pony. When she saw the knight on the ground, the blood flew from her face and she burst into sorrow without measure. ‘O Balin,’ she cried, ‘two hearts you have slain in that one body, and two souls you have lost.’

  First she fell down in a swoon, then she rose up weeping. Snatching the sword from her dead love, she held it so fast that Balin could not take it from her. Then, of a sudden, she set the pommel on the ground and threw herself onto the blade. Unfriendly hand, thought Balin, to turn against yourself.

  ‘O most cruel stroke,’ he sighed. ‘I repent me the death of this knight, surly and proud though he was, for I see there was much true love betwixt these two.’

  So, heavily, he turned his horse and looked towards the vast and gloomy forest. As the shadows folded over him, he saw a knight riding at ease upon the path. Then his heart lifted, for he knew this knight by his device and his arms. It was his brother Balan. Joyfully, they saluted and came together, raising their helmets so that they might kiss each other in gladness.

  Then Balan said, ‘I heard in the Castle of Four Stones that you were delivered from prison and were seen in the court of King Arthur. At once, I came to find you. Well met, brother.’

  Shortly he learnt all that had happened at the court of Arthur and how his brother had fallen out with the king, and how it saddened Balin, for Arthur was the best knight that reigned now on earth.

  As they were talking, there came to them a dwarf together with a knight called Mark, who was king of Cornwall. When they saw the dead lady, the dwarf tore his hair for grief. But King Mark caused a fine tomb to be made, and he put in it the two bodies of Lanceor and his fair lady Colombe. As this was a-doing along came Merlin, who started back at the sight of these bodies. He looked angrily on Balin, saying, ‘You have done yourself great harm because you did not save this lady.’