CHAPTER I.
THE POISONING OF SIR PATRISE.
After the quest of the Sangreal was ended, and all the knights who were left alive had come again to Camelot, there was great joy in the court, with feasts and merrymakings, that this fortunate remnant might find a glad welcome. Above all, King Arthur and Queen Guenever were full of joy in the return of Lancelot and Bors, both from the love they bore them and the special honor they had gained in the quest.
But, as is man's way, holy thoughts vanished with the holy task that gave them rise, the knights went back to their old fashions and frailties, and in Lancelot's heart his earthly love for the queen soon rose again, and his love of heaven and holy thoughts grew dim as the days went by. Alas that it should have been so! for such an unholy passion could but lead to harm. To fatal ills, indeed, it led, and to the end of Arthur's reign and of the worshipful fellowship of the Table Round, as it is our sorrowful duty now to tell.
All this began in the scandal that was raised in the court by the close companionship between Lancelot and the queen. Whisper of this secret talk at length came to that good knight's ears, and he withdrew from Queen Guenever as much as he could, giving himself to the society of other ladies of the court, with design to overcome the evil activity of slanderous tongues.
This withdrawal filled the queen with jealous anger, and she accused him bitterly of coldness in his love.
"Madam," said Lancelot, "only that love for you clung desperately to my heart, and drove out heavenly thoughts, I should have gained as great honor in the quest of the Sangreal as even my son Galahad. My love is still yours, but I fear to show it, for there are those of the court who love me not, such as Agravaine and Mordred, and these evil-thinking knights are spreading vile reports wherever they may. It is for this I make show of delight in other ladies' society, to cheat the bitter tongue of slander."
To this the queen listened with heaving breast and burning cheek. But at the end she burst into bitter tears and sobs, and wept so long that Lancelot stood in dismay. When she could speak, she called him recreant and false, declared she should never love him more, and bade him leave the court, and on pain of his head never come near her again.
This filled the faithful lover with the deepest grief and pain; yet there was anger, too, for he felt that the queen had shut her ears to reason, and had let causeless jealousy blind her. So, without further words, he turned and sought his room, prepared to leave the court. He sent for Hector, Bors, and Lionel, and told them what had happened, and that he intended to leave England and return to his native land.
"If you take my advice you will do nothing so rash," said Bors. "Know you not that women are hasty to act, and quick to repent? This is not the first time the queen has been angry with you; nor will her repentance be a new experience."
"You speak truly," said Lancelot. "I will ride, therefore, to the hermitage of Brasias, near Windsor, and wait there till I hear from you if my lady Guenever changes her mood. I pray you do your best to get me her love again."
"That needs no prayer. Well you know I will do my utmost in your behalf."
Then Lancelot departed in haste, none but Bors knowing whither he had gone. But the queen showed no sign of sorrow at his going, however deeply she may have felt it in her heart. In countenance she remained serene and proud, as though the world went well with her, and her heart was free from care.
Her desire, indeed, to show that she took as much joy in the society of other knights as in that of Lancelot led to a woful and perilous event, which we have next to describe. For she gave a private dinner, to which she invited Gawaine and his brethren and other knights, to the number of twenty-four in all. A rich feast it was, with all manner of dainties and rare devices. Much was the joy and merriment of the feasting knights.
As it happened, Gawaine had a great love for fruits, especially apples and pears, which he ate daily at dinner and supper; and all who invited him to dine took care to provide his favorite fruits. This the queen failed not to do. But there was at the feast an enemy of Gawaine's, named Pinel le Savage, who was a cousin of Lamorak de Galis, and had long hated Gawaine for the murder of that noble knight.
To obtain revenge on him, Pinel poisoned some of the apples, feeling sure that only Gawaine would eat them. But by unlucky chance a knight named Patrise, cousin to Mador de la Porte, eat one of the poisoned apples. So deadly was the venom that in a moment he was in agony, and very soon it so filled his veins that he fell dead from his seat.
Then was terror and wrath, as the knights sprang in haste and turmoil from their seats. For they saw that Patrise had been poisoned, and suspicion naturally fell upon the queen, the giver of the feast.
"My lady, the queen," cried Gawaine in anger, "what thing is this we see? This fate, I deem, was meant for me, since the fruit was provided for my taste. Madam, what shall I think? Has this good knight taken on himself the death that was intended to be mine?"
The queen made no answer, being so confused and terrified that she knew not what to say.
"This affair shall not end here," cried Mador de la Porte in great wrath. "Here lies a noble knight of my near kindred, slain by poison and treason. For this I shall have revenge to the utterance. Queen Guenever, I hold you guilty of the murder of my cousin, Sir Patrise. I demand from the laws of the realm and the justice of our lord the king redress for this deed. A knight like this shall not fall unrevenged, while I can wield spear or hold sword."
The queen, at this hot accusation, looked appealingly from face to face; but all stood grave and silent, for greatly they suspected her of the crime. Then, seeing that she had not a friend in the room, she burst into a passion of tears, and at length fell to the floor in a swoon.
The story of this sad business soon spread through the court, and quickly came to the ears of the king, who hastened to the banqueting hall full of trouble at what he had heard. When Mador saw him, he again bitterly accused the queen of treason,—as murder of all kinds was then called.
"This is a serious affair," said the king, gravely. "I, as a rightful judge, cannot take the matter into my own hands, or I would do battle in this cause myself, for I know well that my wife is wrongly accused. To burn a queen on a hasty accusation of crime is no light matter, though you may deem it so, Sir Mador; and if you demand the combat, fear not but a knight will be found to meet you in the lists."
"My gracious lord," said Mador, "you must hold me excused, for though you are our king, you are a knight also, and held by knightly rules. Therefore, be not displeased with me, for all the knights here suspect the queen of this crime. What say you, my lords?"
"The dinner was made by the queen," they answered. "She or her servants must be held guilty of the crime."
"I gave this dinner with a good will, and with no thought of evil," said the queen, sadly. "May God help me as an innocent woman, and visit this murder on the base head of him who committed it. My king and husband, to God I appeal for right and justice."
"And justice I demand," said Mador, "and require the king to name a day in which this wrong can be righted."
"Be it so, then," said the king. "Fifteen days hence be thou ready armed on horseback in the meadow beside Winchester. If there be a knight there to meet you, then God speed the right. If none meet you, then my queen must suffer the penalty of the law."
When Arthur and the queen had departed, he asked her how this case befell.
"God help me if I know," she answered.
"Where is Lancelot?" asked the king. "If he were here, he would do battle for you."
"I know not," she replied. "His kinsmen say he has left the land."
"How cometh it," said the king, "that you cannot keep Lancelot by your side? If he were here your case would be won. Sir Bors will do battle in his place, I am sure. Go seek him and demand his aid."
This the queen did, begging Bors to act as her champion; but he, as one of the knights who had been at the dinner, demurred, and accused her of having driven Lancelot from the country by her scorn and jealousy.
Then she knelt and begged his aid, and the king, coming in, also requested his assistance, for he was now sure the queen had been unjustly defamed.
"My lord," answered Bors, "it is a great thing you require of me, for if I grant your request I will affront many of my Round Table comrades. Yet for your and Lancelot's sake I will be the queen's champion on the day appointed, unless it may happen that a better knight than I come to do battle for her."
"Will you promise me this, on your faith?" asked the king.
"I shall not fail you," said Bors. "If a better knight than I come, the battle shall be his. If not, I will do what I can."
This promise gladdened the king and queen, who thanked Bors heartily, and were filled with hope, for they trusted greatly in this good knight's prowess and skill.
Bors, however, had other thoughts than they dreamed of, and left the court secretly, riding to the hermitage of Brasias, where he found Lancelot and told him of what had occurred.
"This happens well," said Lancelot. "The queen shall not suffer. Do you make ready for the battle, but tarry and delay, if I am not there, as much as you may, till I arrive. Mador is a hot knight, and will be hasty to battle. Bid him cool his haste."
"Leave that to me," said Bors. "Doubt not that it will go as you wish."
Meanwhile the news spread throughout the court that Bors had taken on himself the queen's championship. This displeased the most of the knights, for suspicion of the queen was general. On his return many of his fellows accused him hotly of taking on himself a wrongful quarrel.
"Shall we see the queen of our great lord King Arthur brought to shame?" he demanded. "To whom in the world do we owe more?"
"We love and honor our king as much as you do," they answered. "But we cannot love a destroyer of knights, as Queen Guenever has proved herself."
"Fair sirs," said Bors, "you speak hastily, methinks. At all times, so far as I know, she has been a maintainer, not a destroyer, of knights, and has been free with gifts and open-handed in bounty to all of knightly fame. This you cannot gainsay, nor will I suffer the wife of our noble king to be shamefully slain. She is not guilty of Sir Patrise's death, for she never bore him ill will, nor any other at that dinner. It was for good will she invited us there, and I doubt not her innocence will be proved; for howsoever the game goeth, take my word for it, some other than she is guilty of that murder."
This some began to believe, convinced by his words, but others still held their displeasure, believing the queen guilty.
When at length the day that had been fixed for the battle came, there was a great gathering of knights and people in the meadow beside Winchester, where the combat was to take place. But many shuddered when they saw another thing, for an iron stake was erected, and fagots heaped round it, for the burning of the queen should Mador win the fight.
Such, indeed, was the custom of those days. Neither for favor, for love, nor for kindred could any but righteous judgment be given, as well upon a king as upon a knight, upon a queen as upon a poor lady, and death at the stake was the penalty for those convicted of murder.
Now there rode into the lists Sir Mador de la Porte, and took oath before the king that he held the queen to be guilty of the death of Sir Patrise, and would prove it with his body against any one who should say to the contrary.
Sir Bors followed, and made oath as the queen's champion that he held her guiltless, and would prove it with his body, unless a better knight came to take the battle on him.
"Make ready then," said Mador, "and we shall prove which is in the right, you or I."
"You are a good knight, Sir Mador," said Bors, "but I trust that God will give this battle to justice, not to prowess."
He continued to talk and to make delay till Mador called out impatiently,—
"It seems to me that we waste time and weather. Either come and do battle at once, or else say nay."
"I am not much given to say nay," answered Bors. "Take your horse and make ready. I shall not tarry long, I promise you."
Then each departed to his tent, and in a little while Mador came into the field with his shield on his shoulder and his spear in his hand. But he waited in vain for Bors.
"Where is your champion?" cried Mador to the king. "Bid him come forth if he dare!"
When this was told to Bors he was ashamed to delay longer, and mounted his horse and rode to his appointed place. But as he did so he saw a knight, mounted on a white horse, and bearing a shield of strange device, emerge from a neighboring wood, and come up at all speed. He continued his course till he came to Sir Bors.
"Be not displeased, fair knight," he said, "if I claim this battle. I have ridden far this day to have it, as I promised you when we spoke last. And for what you have done I thank you."
Then Bors rode to the king and told him that a knight had come who would do battle for the queen and relieve him from the championship.
"What knight is this?" asked the king.
"All I may say is that he covenanted to be here to-day. He has kept his word, and I am discharged."
"How is this?" demanded Arthur. "Sir knight, do you truly desire to do battle for the queen?"
"For that, and that alone, came I hither," answered the knight. "And I beg that there be no delay, for when this battle is ended I must depart in haste on other duties. I hold it a dishonor to all those knights of the Round Table that they can stand and see so noble a lady and courteous a queen as Queen Guenever rebuked and shamed among them all. Therefore I stand as her champion."
Then all marvelled what knight this could be, for none suspected him. But Mador cried impatiently to the king,—
"We lose time here. If this knight, whoever he be, will have ado with me, it is time to end words and begin deeds."
"You are hot, Sir Mador. Take care that your valor be not cooled," said the other.
They now moved to their appointed stations, and there couched their spears and rode together with all the speed of their chargers. Mador's spear broke, but the spear of his opponent held, and bore him and his horse backward to the earth.
But he sprang lightly from the saddle, and drew his sword, challenging the victor to do battle with him on foot. This the other knight did, springing quickly to the ground, and drawing his sword. Then they came eagerly to the combat, and for the space of near an hour fought with the fury of wild beasts, for Mador was a strong knight, proved in many battles.
But at last the strange champion struck his opponent a blow that brought him to the earth. He stepped near him to hurl him flat, but at that instant Mador suddenly rose. As he did so he struck upward with his sword, and ran the other through the thick of the thigh, so that the blood flowed freely.
When he felt himself wounded he stepped back in a rage, and grasping his sword struck Mador a two-handed blow that hurled him flat to the earth. Then he sprang upon him to pull off his helm.
"I yield me!" cried Mador. "Spare my life, and I release the queen."
"I shall not grant your life," said the other, "only on condition that you freely withdraw this accusation from the queen, and that no charge against her be made on Sir Patrise's tomb."
"All this shall be done. I have lost, and adjudge her innocent."
The knights-parters of the lists now took up Sir Mador and bore him to his tent. The other knight went to the foot of King Arthur's seat. By that time the queen had come thither also, and was heartily kissed by her overjoyed lord. Then king and queen alike thanked the victor knight, and prayed him to take off his helmet, and drink some wine for refreshment. This he did, and on the instant a loud shout went up from all present, for they recognized the noble face of Lancelot du Lake.
"Sir Lancelot!" cried the king. "Never were you more heartily welcome. Deep thanks I and Queen Guenever owe you for your noble labor this day in our behalf."
"My lord Arthur," said Lancelot, "I would shame myself should I ever fail to do battle for you both. It was you who gave me the high honor of knighthood. And on the day you made me knight I lost my sword through haste, and the lady your queen found it and gave it me when I had need of it, and so saved me from disgrace among the knights. On that day I promised her to be ever her knight in right or wrong."
"Your goodness merits reward," said the king, "and therein I shall not fail you."
But as the queen gazed on Lancelot, tears came to her eyes, and she wept so tenderly that she almost sank to the ground from sorrow and remorse at her unkindness to him who had done her such noble service.
Now the knights of his blood came around Lancelot in the greatest joy, and all the Knights of the Round Table after them, glad to welcome him.
And in the days that followed Lancelot was cured of his wound, and Mador put under the care of skilful leeches, while great joy and gladness reigned in the court for the happy issue of that combat which had promised so fatal an ending.
About this time it befell that Nimue, the damsel of the lake, came to the court, she who knew so many things by her power of enchantment, and had such great love for Arthur and his knights. When the story of the death of Sir Patrise and the peril of the queen was told her, she answered openly that the queen had been falsely accused, and that the real murderer was Sir Pinel, who had poisoned the apples to destroy Gawaine, in revenge for the murder of Lamorak. This story was confirmed when Pinel fled hastily from the court, for then all saw clearly that Guenever was innocent of the crime.
The slain knight was buried in the church of Westminster, and on his tomb was written,—
"Here lieth Sir Patrise of Ireland, slain by Sir Pinel le Savage, through poisoned apples intended for Sir Gawaine." And to this was added the story of how Guenever the queen had been charged with that crime, and had been cleared in the combat by Sir Lancelot du Lake, her champion.
All this was written on the tomb, to clear the queen's good fame. And daily and long Sir Mador sued the queen to have her good grace again. At length, by means of Lancelot, he was forgiven, and entered again into the grace of king and queen. Thus once more peace and good-will were restored to Camelot.