The Legend of King Arthur in Somerset.
By Mrs. C. G. Boger.
(Continued from Vol. V. p. 228.)
PART II.—AT CAMELOT.
“Arthur’s antient seat
Which made the Britons’ name through all the world so great,
Like Camelot what place was ever yet renown’d,
Where, as at Caerleon oft, he kept the Table round?
Most famous for the sports at Pentecost so long,
From whence all knightly deeds and brave achievements sprung.”
Drayton’s Polyolbion, Song III.
ARTHUR had arrived at man’s estate, and his people would fain that he should take a wife, so that, if, like his uncle, Aurelius Ambrosius, he were taken from them, he might, unlike him, leave an heir of his own blood. Among the petty kings of the West was Leodogran, King of Cameliard, a county represented at this day by Camelot or Cadbury-fort, and a cluster of other places in the east of Somerset, whose names are derived from the same root: North and South Cadbury, Queen’s Camel, West Camel, and Castle Cary. Leodogran’s kingdom had been beset by the invaders, and overrun with wild beasts: Arthur had come to his help and rescued his dominions. So it came to pass that when his people spake to him of marriage, Guinivere, the fair daughter of Leodogran, came to his mind, and he asked her of her father. The King of Cameliard was well pleased, and with his daughter’s hand he promised him his greatest treasure, the Table round, and made him his heir.
But Guinivere, in her pride of youth and beauty, had little noted her father’s deliverer, and scarce glanced at the young knight, who paid her none of the homage she thought her due, and who was ever engrossed in earnest consultations with her father on the state of the kingdom, on knights and wars, on castles and sieges; and so it came to pass that when Launcelot, Arthur’s best and most trusted knight, was sent by him to fetch her home, she, never doubting but that the King would have come himself, thought Launcelot was Arthur, and when she saw him her heart leapt to his. But when she came to see her pure and stainless lord, he seemed cold and passionless beside Launcelot; and he, who had no thought of guile and loved when he trusted, and trusted when he loved, gave them unconsciously opportunities of meeting, and Guinivere’s heart passed more and more from Arthur, and attached itself more and more passionately to Launcelot. For Arthur was taken up with affairs of state, and with his beautiful dream of the Knights of the Round Table. In this order none was higher than other; and here, in his Palace of Camelot, built by Merlin’s magic power in a single night, he would assemble a hundred and fifty knights of noble birth, pure and stainless like himself, and the Knights bound themselves by solemn oaths to keep the rules of the order. They were as follows:—
1. That every knight should be well armed and furnished to undertake any enterprise wherein he was employed by sea or by land, on horseback, or on foot.
2. That he should be ever prest (ready) to assail all tyrants or oppressors of the people.
3. That he should protect widows and maids, restore children to their just rights, repossess such persons as without just cause were exiled, and with all his force maintain the Christian faith.
4. That he should be a champion for the public weal, and as a lion repulse the enemies of his country.
5. That he should advance the reputation of honour and suppress all vice, relieve the afflicted by adverse fortune, give aid to Holy Church, and protect pilgrims.
6. That he should bury soldiers that wanted sepulture, deliver prisoners, ransom captives, and cure men hurt in the services of their country.
7. That he should in all honourable actions adventure his person, yet with respect to justice and truth, and in all enterprises proceed sincerely, never failing to use the utmost force of body and labour of mind.
8. That after the attaining of an enterprise he should cause it to be recorded, to the end the fame of the fact might ever live to the eternal honour and renown of the noble order.
9. That if any complaint were made at the court of this mighty king, of perjury and oppression, then some knight of the order whom the King should appoint ought to revenge the same.
10. That if any knight of foreign nation did come into the Court, with desire to challenge or make any show of prowess (were he single or accompanied) those knights ought to be ready in arms to make answer.
11. That if any lady, gentleman, or widow, or maid, or other oppressed person did present a petition declaring that they were or had been in this or other nations injured or offered dishonour, that they should be graciously heard, and without delay one or more knights should be sent to take revenge.
12. That every knight should be willing to inform young princes, lords, and gentlemen, in the orders and exercises of arms, thereby not only to avoid idleness, but also to increase the honour of knighthood and chivalry. Such were the rules which, combined with the disturbed state of the country, caused that—
“Every morning brought a noble chance,
And every chance brought out a noble knight.”
It may, as I have before stated, have been probably the taking of Winchester by the Saxon Cerdic in 515 which caused Arthur to concentrate his forces in the Western Peninsula. Cameliard was now his, in right of his wife. He determined therefore to fortify his kingdom, and at the three extreme points to place strong castles, which he strengthened by every available means. These points were Caerleon on Usk, which guarded the Sabrina or estuary of the Severn, and St. Michael’s Mount at the extreme south-west; but the post of danger and therefore of honour was held by Camelot. He pitched with an experienced eye upon this great Belgic fortress, situated in one of the most fertile and picturesque parts of South Somerset, as the place where the great stand must be made. The shape of the mound is irregular, neither quite round nor square; part of it was hewed from the solid rock, its circumference is about a mile. Four deep ditches in concentric rings with as many ramparts of earth and stones form the primary defences: these are further strengthened by a series of zig-zag terraces on inclined planes, so constructed that the besieged, though he retreated from his assailants, could still make a desperate resistance. On the top of this fortified mount is a moated mount or Prætorium, enclosing a space of at least twenty acres; and here Merlin raised the enchanted Palace of Camelot. The spot must have been well-nigh impregnable in days when artillery was unknown.
Here, then, was Arthur’s great rallying point; hither the persecuted fled for protection, the wronged for redress, the patriotic to assist in the defence of their county. Every possibility of defence and adornment was lavished here; and here were held, specially at Whitsuntide, chapters of the order of the Knights of the Round Table. Here, in intervals of peace, were held the mimic games of warfare, and from here, after a time of repose, they issued forth again and again against the heathen hordes. Within the Greater Triangle was a smaller and more sacred one; its three points were the Tor Hill at Glastonbury, the Mons Acutus or Montacute, and Camelot itself; lines drawn from point to point made an equilateral triangle, each side being twelve miles in length. This twice, trebly guarded territory was defended by saintly shield from invasion, and from any noxious or venomous creature.
It was the year 520 A.D. Exactly one hundred years had elapsed since the last Roman soldiers left Britain a prey to their enemies. But what a different Britain it was now. It is true the enemy were in the land, and held the greater part of it, but the Britons were no longer helpless or hopeless. From the towers of Camelot Arthur led forth an army full of confidence and eager for the fray; he led them beyond the bounds of Gladerhaf, for he would not that this beloved land should be soiled by the heathen’s tread. At Mount Badon, in Wiltshire, was fought the great battle in which Arthur was victorious, and the onward march of the Saxons was stayed for the time. At Camelot watch and ward was kept; from its summit could be seen the Mendip Hills, in the West of Somerset, the Blackdown summits in Devonshire, and the Bristol Channel on the south. Twelve great battles did Arthur fight; the eleventh is said by some to have been fought near Camelot, but I hold rather that the traces of a great conflict, which have been discovered there, took place in more recent times, when the Saxon dominion was extending itself still further to the West. For Gladerhaf remained British till after Arthur’s time, nor did Glastonbury pass under the Saxon sway till after they too had embraced Christianity, and conquerors and conquered knelt together at the same shrine.
The tale of King Ryence’s challenge belongs partly to Caerleon and partly to Camelot. It may be found in full in Mallory’s “King Arthur,” and also in a ballad preserved in “Percy’s Reliques of Ancient Poetry.” King Ryence, a potentate of North Wales, sent to Arthur at Caerleon to demand his beard, as he needed one more to make up the tale of twelve Royal beards, with which to “purfle his mantle.” If it were refused, he would slay him, and lay waste his country. Arthur, who was then young, answered that his beard would scarce answer for the purpose he required it, but threw back his threat upon himself. Shortly afterwards Ryence was brought as a prisoner to Camelot, and Arthur seems to have been content with this humiliation, and to have retaliated no further upon him.
Amongst the treasures brought by Joseph of Arimathea to Britain were two of priceless worth; one, a thorn taken from our Lord’s brow, the other the cup from which the Lord drank at the last supper. The first was planted by Joseph, and slips from it planted in various places still remain, which, according to all contemporary folk-lore, flower invariably on old Christmas Eve (the Epiphany). But still more precious was the Sangreal, or cup, out of which our Lord drank at the last supper. It had been preserved for ages at Glastonbury, but on account of the grievous sins which prevailed, and the disordered state of the country, it had been caught away. But now a rumour arose, no one knew how or where, that the Sangreal had been seen again, and here seemed the salve for all their wounds, the cure for all their troubles, the talisman which was to preserve them from all ill; so men were waiting and wondering for what was to come to pass, they knew not what.
Pentecost had come, and a chapter of the order of the Knights of the Round Table was held as usual at Camelot. The knights were assembled in the great hall of the Castle. Anon a cracking and crying as of thunder was heard, and they thought the palace would break asunder. In the midst entered a sunbeam more clear by seven times than ever they saw day. Then the knights beheld each other fairer than they had ever seen them before, and no knight might speak a word for a great while, and each man looked on the other as they had been dumb. Then entered into the hall the holy grail, covered with white samite; but none might see it, nor who bare it, and all the hall was filled with sweet odours, and the holy vessel departed suddenly, and they wist not whence it came.[1]
Dumb were they all for a time; then spoke the light and foolish Sir Gawaine, and took an oath that he would go on a quest for the Sangreal, and would search for it, at least a year and a day, until he found it. Then the other knights swore to the same. It was with bitter grief that Arthur learned the vow, for well he knew that high and holy gifts are given by God to those who are in their ordinary way of duty, as the angels came to the shepherds whilst they kept their sheep, and that this wild quest would but disperse the knights throughout the land, while they neglected the work that God had set them, viz., the defence of their own land against the heathen. Then said the King: “I am sure at this quest of the Sangreal shall all of ye of the Round Table depart, and never shall I see you whole together again, therefore will I see you all whole together in the meadow of Camelot, for to joust and tourney, that after your death men may speak of it, that such good knights were wholly together on such a day. So were they all assembled in the meadow, both more and less.”
Arthur’s last tournament was held, and the maiden-knight, Sir Galahad, won the honours of the day. Then, when the tourney was over, the whole assembly went to the Minster, and there, for the last time, joined all together in holy rites of prayer and praise. Then said the King to Sir Gawaine: “Alas! ye have well nigh slain me with the vow and promise that ye have made, for through you ye have bereft me of the fairest fellowship and the truest knighthood that ever were seen together in any realm of the world, for when they shall depart from hence I am sure that all shall never meet more in this world, for then shall many die in this quest, and so it forethinketh me a little, for I have loved them as well as my life.” The next morning the knights rode out of Camelot. But the story of their adventures does not belong to Somerset.[2]
Behind all this bravery and fair seeming, however, was rising a dark cloud, which did more to break up Arthur’s Table-round than even the quest of the Sangreal; for rumours had long been rife that Guinivere was unfaithful, and that his best-beloved knight, Sir Launcelot, was the partner of her sin. It was long ere they reached Arthur, who was so guileless that he could not believe in the guilt of those he loved; but at last it became too manifest, and Guinivere’s flight made the unfaithfulness of his wife and his friend patent to the King. Guinivere’s first flight was to Glastonbury; and in a life of Gildas, written by Caradoc of Lancarvon, we are told that whilst he (Gildas) was residing at Glastonbury, Arthur’s Queen was carried off and lodged there, that Arthur immediately besieged the place, but, through the mediation of the Abbot and of Gildas, consented at length to receive his wife again and to depart peaceably.[3] When this first flight took place we are not told; but after a time, and when the rebellion of his nephew, Mordred, took place, Guinivere fled again, this time to Amesbury, in Wiltshire. There she was professed a nun. After her death her body was carried to rest at Glastonbury by Sir Launcelot himself, she having prayed that she might never see him again in life. And when she was put into the earth, Sir Launcelot swooned, and lay long upon the ground. A hermit came and awaked him, and said: “Ye are to blame, for ye displease God with such manner of sorrow-making.” “Truly,” said Sir Launcelot, “I trust I do not displease God, for He knoweth well mine intent, for it was not, nor is for any rejoicing of sin; but my sorrow may never have an end. For when I remember and call to mind her beauty, her bounty, and her nobleness, that was as well with her King, my lord Arthur, as with her; and also when I saw the corpse of that noble King and noble Queen so lie together in that cold grave, made of earth, that sometime were so highly set in most honourable places, truly mine heart would not serve me to sustain my wretched and careful body also. And when I remember me, how through my default, and through my presumption and pride, that they were both laid full low, the which were ever peerless that ever were living of Christian people. Wit ye well,” said Sir Launcelot, “this remembered of their kindness, and of mine unkindness, sunk and impressed so in my heart, that all my natural strength failed me, so that I might not sustain myself.”
The rebellion of his nephew Mordred brought strife and war into the hitherto carefully guarded peninsula. Mordred maintained that Arthur was no son of Uther Pendragon; and that he himself was the rightful heir, so Arthur had to turn his arms against his own people. It was at Camelford, near the north coast of Cornwall, that he fought his last fight; he was wounded to the death, for his skull was, as we shall see, pierced with ten wounds. Then, after the episode of the flinging away of the sword Excalibur, when Sir Bedivere saw “the water, wap, and waves waun,” a barge hoved to the bank; in it were ladies with black hoods, and one was Morgan la Fay, King Arthur’s sister. Then the barge floated to the shores of Gladerhaf, and there, to the vale of Avilion,[4] they took him to heal him of his grievous wound. And so men said that Arthur was not dead, but by the will of our Lord Jesus Christ was in another place; and men say that he will come again. I will not say that it shall be so, but rather I will say, that here in this world he changed his life. But many men say that there is written upon his tomb this verse:—
“Hic jacet Arthurus rex quondam, rexque futurus.”
And thus leave we him here, and Sir Bedivere with the hermit that dwelled in a chapel beside Glastonbury.[5]
(To be continued.)