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.)