Arthur : $b A tragedy

Arthur. A TRAGEDY

ARTHUR A TRAGEDY

BY LAURENCE BINYON

[Illustration]

BOSTON SMALL, MAYNARD AND COMPANY PUBLISHERS

COPYRIGHT, 1923 BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY (INCORPORATED)

Printed in the United States of America

THE MURRAY PRINTING COMPANY CAMBRIDGE, MASS.

BINDING BY THE BOSTON BOOKBINDING COMPANY CAMBRIDGE, MASS.

TO

SIR JOHN AND LADY MARTIN HARVEY

_With what names should I inscribe this play but with yours? Yet what right have I to dedicate to you what is already so much your own? Memory goes back to that June day, now long ago, when first I undertook to write for you a play out of Malory’s pages on a theme long pondered by you both. And many days come back to me, in London or by the sunny Channel, when time was forgotten in ardent work and interchange of ideas; in thinking out and talking over crucial situations; in rejecting and recasting; in the search for essential structure. How much the play owes to you, both in framework and in detail, none knows so well as I. Give me leave, therefore, to write these words in grateful acknowledgment of that initial trust, of much fruitful suggestion and inspiriting counsel, and of all I have learnt from you of the playwright’s patient craft._

LAURENCE BINYON.

CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY

KING ARTHUR. SIR LAUNCELOT. SIR GAWAINE} SIR GAHERIS} _brothers_. SIR GARETH} SIR BEDIVERE. SIR LUCAN. SIR BERNARD OF ASTOLAT. LAVAINE} TORRE} _his sons_. SIR MORDRED. SIR AGRAVAINE} SIR COLEGREVANCE} _of Mordred’s party_. SIR MADOR} SIR PATRICE} SIR BORS} SIR KAY} _friends of Launcelot_. DUMB SIMON, _servant of Sir Bernard_. A BISHOP. A MAN-AT-ARMS. A MESSENGER. A GUARD. QUEEN GUENEVERE. ELAINE. LYNNED, _a nun_. QUEEN’S LADY. FIRST NOVICE. SECOND NOVICE. THE DAMSEL OF PEACE.

_A banner-bearer, priests, esquires, men-at-arms, soldiers, ladies of the Court, etc._

Arthur. A TRAGEDY

FIRST SCENE

SIR BERNARD’S _castle at Astolat. A room with a window at the back._ SIR BERNARD _alone, seated; he is old and grey-bearded_.

LAVAINE _enters in a hurry of excitement_.

Lavaine. Father, the King’s at London gates!

Sir Bernard. Returned?

Lavaine. Victorious. He has overthrown and scattered Those rebels in the North.

Sir Bernard. Praise God for that! How heard you this, Lavaine?

Lavaine. From a King’s herald That rode through Astolat. I spoke with him. But, father, there’s new faction now, he says, Brewing in the West. He is below with Torre.

Sir Bernard. A herald of the King! What does he here?

Lavaine. The King sends seeking for Sir Launcelot. Three months ago he vanished, this man said; Vanished, and not a word of why or whither. But now the King’s returned, he’ll search the land Into its farthest corners for his friend.... (_pause_) Father, is it not strange Sir Launcelot vanished Just ere the King had so great need of him?

Sir Bernard. Very strange.

(_A pause._)

Lavaine. Father, have you ever thought Perhaps our guest, this knight my sister found Pierced by an arrow among the forest leaves, Who will not tell his name, might be none other Than Launcelot himself?

Sir Bernard. What starts your thought upon so wild a fancy?

Lavaine. It is three months ago, the herald says, Sir Launcelot disappeared. Three months ago This knight was wounded and brought hither. Then, Another thing--but now I took him news Of the King’s victory; he was greatly stirred; But when I spoke of this new head of trouble Reared in the West, he started up and cried, “I must be gone: the King has need of me!”

Sir Bernard. Sir Launcelot? It can hardly be, Lavaine. But he has borne him like a true, brave knight, And though he has kept his name unknown to us I’ll wager it is noble----

Lavaine. And a name Not less renowned than noble, I am sure. Father, King Arthur needs good men-at-arms, Needs every sword that’s loyal. If our guest Goes to the King now, let me ride with him To London; let me serve in the King’s wars.

Sir Bernard. Your sword must win a wide renown, my son, Ere he has need of you.

Lavaine. I’ll win renown; I’ll hew it from the world, as Launcelot did.

Sir Bernard. Patience, my son! If any serves the King From this house, it shall be my eldest son First, and your brother bides with me----

Lavaine. Oh, Torre! A stay-at-home born! He’ll not leave his dogs. He’s for the country, and abhors the Court.

TORRE _bursts in_.

Torre. I have found him. Blind that I must have been Not to have guessed before!

Lavaine. Found whom, Torre?

TORRE (_at the window_).

Look! Look! in the garden, walking with Elaine. God wither him!

Sir Bernard. Our guest? What mean you, boy?

Torre. Evermore by our sister’s side, and she Takes his corruption to her innocence Like syllables of Scripture. Would to heaven----

Sir Bernard. Cease raving, Torre. Our guest----

Torre. Who hides his name---- What name? Why hidden? I have found him out.

Lavaine. Who is it?

Torre. Launcelot!

Lavaine. Did I not say it, father?

Torre. You knew?

Lavaine. The thought leapt to my mind but now.

Sir Bernard. Sir Launcelot?

Torre. Launcelot, the Queen’s paramour.

Sir Bernard. Shame, Torre! Shame! The King’s friend.

Lavaine. The best knight That wears a sword upon this earth.

Torre. A traitor!

Lavaine. He serves the Queen, and the Queen chooses him To be her peerless champion in the lists; Therefore the vile think evil.

Torre. You are a boy; Talk like a boy, think like a boy.

Sir Bernard. You know This is Sir Launcelot? He has told it to you? Many a knight will hide his name for cause Of some adventure, or some secret vow.

Torre. Is it not three months since this guest of ours Was found in the forest with an arrow through him---- Found by Elaine? Would God that hunter’s arrow Had split his heart in two!

Sir Bernard. This rage is madness.

Torre. It’s he. The herald told me of a scar Upon Sir Launcelot’s forehead. You have seen it. Look at Elaine, pacing beside him. Watch How her cheek changes, how she listens----

Lavaine. Well, He is not so graceless not to bid good-bye To her that’s been his hostess and his nurse. What harm in that?

Torre. What harm? To lose her heart And make a pastime for the filcher of it! Queen, country maid--all’s practice to his lures.

Sir Bernard. You anger me: so rank in your suspicions. You read him backward, as the witches do The holy writ. Whether Launcelot or no, This is a true man.

Torre. Father, he is false.

Lavaine. You slander one that’s better than yourself.

Torre. He goes. I’ll to the herald now, and I’ll Proclaim him found.

Lavaine. And when he goes, I go. I’ll follow such a man to the world’s end.

Torre. Lavaine, you shall not.

Lavaine. And I say, I will.

Torre. He is the lover of Queen Guenevere.

LAUNCELOT _enters quietly_.

Torre. None in the Court but knows it, save the King.

Sir Bernard. Now shame upon you, Torre. Our guest is here.

Torre. Let me speak, father.

Sir Bernard. Will you shame our house And me too? Peace.

Torre. I must speak out my heart, Guest or no guest. Sir, will it please you to ask This guest of ours why he has hid a name Men know, whether for good or ill----

Sir Bernard. This house Shall not forget its ancient courtesies While I am master. These are sorry manners: I never taught you such. In his own time Our noble guest shall tell us what he will Or, if he choose, be nameless. Now, no more.

LAVAINE (_eagerly_)

Is it Sir Launcelot?

Launcelot. I am Launcelot. Sir, Pardon me, if for causes of my own I let my name sleep in the dark awhile.

Sir Bernard. We should have guessed it. Though we dwell retired In Astolat, doubt not those deeds of fame Which you have done for Britain and our King And made a glory in the land--doubt not We have them all by heart.

Lavaine. Drank them like wine.

Sir Bernard. Our children’s children will be telling them By the fire. The famed Sir Launcelot! and this, This is our guest--Sir Launcelot! Good news.

Torre. Good news, that he has thieved your daughter’s heart! But here he stays no moment more. I’ll fetch King Arthur’s herald and proclaim him.

Launcelot. Spare Your pains, sir. I have spoken with that herald And ride with him at once; I had come now For my farewell.

Torre. By heaven, and not too soon.

Sir Bernard. Torre!

Launcelot. Let him speak.

Sir Bernard. Nay, Sir----

Torre. Have you not eyes? This paragon of Courts, smiled on of Queens, Deigns for his rustic leisure to make sport Of our simplicity. Elaine has given Her whole heart to him, and he’ll toss her now To oblivion.

Sir Bernard. Torre, you have dishonoured me----

Lavaine. Shame, Torre!

Sir Bernard. Dishonoured me and all my house.

Torre. I am rough: but truth is rough; and the bur sticks.

Launcelot. Sir Bernard, I owe your daughter all the breath I breathe. She found me at the gasp of death; she brought me Of her sweet pity hither, healed my wound, And more; for when black clouds were on my mind She let the morning shine full into it; I felt her like the sky, the morning dew. If--if there be some fondness, some young spring Of fondness in her heart, Time soon amends Such wounds. She is a child. If this be gone More deep than tenderness and pity’s tears I have means to cure it. Let me speak with her.

Torre. He shall not, father.

Sir Bernard. This to me! Now leave us, Or ask a pardon that is ill deserved.

ELAINE _enters_

Sir Bernard. Sir Launcelot----

(ELAINE, _hearing the name, gives a little cry of wonder_.)

Elaine! Speak with her, then. You have my trust. My sons, come.

Torre. You are blind. We shall taste bitterness ere this be done.

[SIR BERNARD _goes out with his sons._

Elaine. Sir Launcelot! Sir Launcelot of the Lake? Was it the famed Sir Launcelot that I found Like a dead man so pale on the dead leaves? Sir Launcelot! I have won Sir Launcelot back To life, to glory! Now I have a name To call you by; the name I used to hear When it seemed distant as the dazzling sun; Why did you hide your name?

(LAUNCELOT _is silent_.)

Something is changed. What is it? Tell me.

Launcelot. The King has been in peril; I should have been with him.

Elaine. And not with me!

Launcelot. Forgive me, my fair nurse. If I have breath To speak at all, I owe it to you. For you Have made of me a new man, and I thank you With all my heart that now I can return To serve my King. Where is my shield?

ELAINE (_bringing the shield from a corner of the room_)

So soon? And I must lose the shield? Look, I have made A silken case broidered with its device And bordered with fair flowers, which day by day I broidered while you lay so sick and speechless. Each morning I have burnished it.

Launcelot. Like me, It wears its scars.

Elaine. Glorious scars! I seem To feel the rushing stroke, when you upheld it There! Dreadful stroke! Good shield! What fight was that?

Launcelot. It was that battle on the Solway shore, When all the sands were blood, and we were pressed So heavily by the wild men of the isles That in the press the King came near his death. This shielded Arthur then.

Elaine. And you, you saved him.

Launcelot. So kingly a King, who would not die for him? He has made this isle of Britain such a realm As famous Alexander might have throned Or Cæsar bled for: Beat back the Saxon, soldered into one The princedoms that were all at envious broil With one another; made his name a trumpet, Sounding across the seas even to Rome. The world knows that; but I know more and dearer.

Elaine. How came this other scar?

Launcelot. Ah, that was done By my own friend, Sir Gawaine. He mistook me For the false Torquil, who had trapped his brothers. But, when he knew, he flung his sword away And caught me to his heart; a headlong man In wrath or love.

Elaine. I pray he love you always. And this deep gash?

Launcelot. By the black winter waves Under Tintagel towers, that blow was dealt.

Elaine. Wonderful shield, that has endured such blows And borne your mortal wounds for you, and been Where I would fain have been! I feel as if Those dreadful murderous thrusts were in my body. How had I gloried to be this, that saved you! Leave me the shield that has your story on it Till I have all its battles in my heart.

Launcelot. How should a knight do battle without his shield?

Elaine. I must resign it then. Take your good shield, But I will keep its case. Look! I have stitched Upon it with my needle every scar That gashed its brightness. And now you will forsake me?

Launcelot. Have you no boon to ask me, ere I go? I owe you all. Ask what you will.

Elaine. A boon? And you will grant me anything I ask?

Launcelot. If it be in my power, and in my honour.

Elaine. I have heard that a knight wears his lady’s favour When he goes into battle. Wear you mine?

Launcelot. I never did that yet for any maid, For any woman. Ask some other boon, Not this.

Elaine. But this is all I have to ask.

Launcelot. Think, and then choose again.

Elaine. You promised me. Is my poor favour so contemptible? I have it here.

Launcelot. What is it?

Elaine. A red sleeve Sewn with pearls.

Launcelot. If I wear this for your sake, Since you have won me from my wound, Elaine, You did more than you knew. I had fled the world. Because I had in my tormented heart Something it was too weak to endure against. But now you have made me strong. I fear no more.

Elaine. Never was fear, never was aught but honour Within the great heart of Sir Launcelot. And you will wear this? I will bind it on.

Launcelot. I never did so much for any woman; But I will wear it.

Elaine. I have bound it on. And now you are my knight! I see it far, My sleeve, my red sleeve, far among the spears, Among the helmets: none dare follow it. I know my knight shall triumph over all, Over the world.

Launcelot. Elaine, you cannot tell How like a fountain that pure trust you have Cleanses me through. God keep me true to it. And now, farewell.

Elaine. But you will come again?

Launcelot. My child, I will not.

Elaine. Oh, my lord, have mercy Without you I shall die.

Launcelot. Elaine!

Elaine. Have mercy. I cannot live, but if you love me.

Launcelot. Ah!

Elaine. Take me for wife, or no wife if you will. But if you do not love me, I must die.

Launcelot. Elaine, Deep in the heart of me, humbly and purely, I thank you for your love, for your sweet love; Sweet as a flower it is to my sore spirit. But I am one who, could I give such love As should be yours, the love that blesses both In the meeting lips of innocence, the love That’s honour, faith, truth--must be changed to what I am not. Did you know----

Elaine. I only know That if you will not love me, I must die.

Launcelot. Let the months pass, and you shall smile at this. Life’s yet for you in the young leaf, Elaine, You’ll love some other man, some better man. And whosoever it be, I give you both A dowry of my treasure and my lands To you and to your heirs, and I will be Your own knight till I die.

Elaine. None of all this, None of all this I want; only your love. Give me your love, or my good days are done.

Launcelot. You know not what you ask, nor whom you ask. I have a sin heavy upon my soul.

Elaine. What is that to me, who love you?

Launcelot. It were better You thought of me all the evil that’s in men. Hate me!

Elaine. I cannot. If I would, I cannot.

Launcelot. Made I such pain when I was tasting only The sweet of the world? Now I have set my will On the hard path, I suffer and make suffer All that I touch.

Elaine. Let me but suffer for you! Let me but follow where you go, my lord; However rough the roads, I’ll travel them; Though my feet bleed, that shall be sweet to me.

Launcelot. Shall nothing but the truth content you then? My heart is given--lost!

Elaine. Now you have told me.

(_She sinks half fainting._)

Launcelot. Lavaine, Sir Bernard, enter!

SIR BERNARD, TORRE, and LAVAINE _re-enter_.

Torre. Devil! She knows, And it will kill her.

Sir Bernard. Child! Elaine! Look up.

Launcelot. Sir Bernard, I have hurt her but to heal. Pardon me for this sorrow I have made.

Torre. Did I not say that we should rue this man? She has seen to his black heart, and it will kill her.

Sir Bernard. Peace, Torre! (_To Launcelot_) I doubt not you have used all kindness. We’ll pray that Time amend this in his fashion. Sir Launcelot, God be with you.

Launcelot. And with you Would heaven that I could have requited her.

Lavaine. I must go, father, with Sir Launcelot. _She_ understands well how it is with me. Father, your blessing (_kneels_).

Sir Bernard. Have your will, my son. Seeing what has befallen, maybe it is best. Go, and be worthy of the house that bred you.

Launcelot. Come then, Lavaine. I do but rankle here.

Lavaine. Sister, farewell.

Launcelot. Peace come to you, Elaine. Kind host, again farewell. In the white fire Of her young heart be grief consumed away.

[_Exeunt_ LAUNCELOT _and_ LAVAINE.

Sir Bernard. Brave, sweet; look up!

Torre. Oh, father, she will die.

SECOND SCENE

_A room in the Palace at London. At the back a colonnade, through which is seen a rose hedge. The_ KING _and_ SIR BEDIVERE: ARTHUR _pacing up and down_.

Arthur. No news yet, Bedivere?

Bedivere. Our messengers return with silent faces. It is as if the earth had swallowed him.

Arthur. Launcelot lost!... This victory, Bedivere, Was not as the old days. Something baulked us, something Like an invisible impediment-- I felt it round me--something that unnerved What should have been a hammer-stroke. Almost, But for my suddenness, it was defeat.

Bedivere. I had not hazarded to broach a thought Sprung from surmises only; but my King Has spoken; therefore, may I speak?

Arthur. Hide nothing.

Bedivere. If rumours breathed about the camp be true, There was some treason.

Arthur. I felt it in the air, Like fog on a sour wind. Tell me more.

Bedivere. Sir, I cannot speak but on a dark report, And hardly now dare tell.

Arthur. Hide nothing. Speak.

Bedivere. The name that men have whispered in the night Is the name of Mordred.

Arthur. My own sister’s son! In my own house, treason!

Bedivere. It may be nothing, But one I sent on a night-errand saw A man disguised and muffled stealing up From where the rebels lay. A camp-fire chanced To blaze up on a sudden out of smoke. The face was Mordred’s.

Arthur. Mordred, false to me! Treachery in my own house, Bedivere.

Bedivere. Mordred is ever fair and frank in speech, Looks you in the eyes and smiles. And in the battle, Though he’s no hungry fighter, he fought well; And, after, cheered our victory. And yet There is a hushing upon Mordred’s name As if it curtained secrets. Sir, I fear him; I cannot tell why.

Arthur. There is power in him.

Bedivere. He keeps a kind of hidden confidence, That is a magnet to unstable men.

Arthur. I never wronged him. Treason? For what cause? Envy’s a cause. Ambition is a cause.

(GUENEVERE _enters_.)

The marshals of the jousts That are to celebrate our victory Attend the King in Council.

Arthur. Say I come.

[_Exit_ BEDIVERE.

(_Absorbed in his own thoughts_, ARTHUR _does not notice the_ QUEEN.)

I grow old, I begin to doubt and fear. Rather a thousand enemies that shout Their hate, than one that smiles behind me----

GUENEVERE (_softly_)

Arthur!

Arthur. And Launcelot gone from me! But why? I grope Into the silence, and find nothing.

GUENEVERE (_more loudly_)

Arthur!

ARTHUR (_turning_)

My Queen!

Guenevere. You have bid me no good-morrow yet.

Arthur. Good-morrow, Guenevere.

GUENEVERE (_after a pause_)

I think they wait you.

Arthur. In time. What ails my Queen?

Guenevere. Nothing at all. I am but an idle corner of your kingdom; You are called to graver matters.

Arthur. Guenevere, If that this robe of care that now is on me Seem to absent my heart, take it not ill, You know where my heart lives. Perplexities Even now beset me.

(_Murmurs without._)

Guenevere. Hark! Someone cried “Launcelot”! If it were he!

(_Louder murmurs._)

They do cry “Launcelot”!

Arthur. Can it be?

Guenevere. It is!

Arthur. The world is changed if I have Launcelot. Come we to meet him.

GUENEVERE (_afraid of showing her joy_)

If it be ill news?

Arthur. What is it ails you, Guenevere? You hear The joy cry in those voices. Come.

Guenevere. Go you.

Arthur. He comes, my friend, my Launcelot! It is true!

LAUNCELOT _enters and falls on his knee before_ ARTHUR. LAVAINE _follows at a distance_.

LAUNCELOT (_kneeling_)

My King!

Arthur. My friend! Rise, look me in the face, That I may be assured it is my friend Beside me once again.

LAUNCELOT (_rising_)

To the last hour. And last drop of my blood.

Arthur. See, Guenevere, Our hope is havened. Our Launcelot returns. Whence come you? Tell me.

Launcelot. Ah, what matters whence, Since I am come to serve my only King?

Arthur. Pale, too! I think some suffering’s written here.

Launcelot. I am but new-recovered from a wound.

Arthur. In battle?

Launcelot. Nothing glorious, my King. I rode in the forest on a winter’s day, Thinking my thoughts. A misty day it was With a pale sun, and red leaves underfoot. I let my horse pace on, lost in a muse; But, as it chanced, a hunter in those woods Was shooting at the deer, and aimed so ill His arrow found its quarry in my side.

Guenevere. Ah!

Launcelot. I fell. I knew no more. But for good hap, Some clown had tracked me to those muddy leaves, Me that had shaped a splendid field to die on-- And found me--sorry venison----

Arthur. Where was this?

Launcelot. In the thick woods over Astolat.

Arthur. You fled me, Launcelot; and scarcely were you gone, when came Ill-tidings, and I had sore need of you. You fled me: for what cause?

Launcelot. I fled not you, my King, I fled not you-- Ask me no more.

Arthur. Let be then; Keep secret what you will. You are come back: I’ll probe no further. Is this wound well healed?

Launcelot. There was a maid found me in that same forest, A maid well skilled in healing, and the daughter Of the old lord of Astolat. Elaine She is called: she won me back to life, and I Have brought with me her brother: he would serve His King, and he is worthy. Will it please you to receive him?

Arthur. Surely one Who comes with Launcelot, and so commended, Shall have his full of welcome. Bring him to us; For many of my knights, alas! are fallen, And youth amends our loss.

(LAUNCELOT _brings forward_ LAVAINE, _who kneels_.)

Launcelot. Lavaine, your King.

Arthur. Lavaine, be of our court and fellowship. And if you would be patterned, here is one To follow: have him for your heart’s ensample In loyalty, in love, in all that’s honour.

[LAVAINE _bows and retires_.

True stock. I thank you. Launcelot, we celebrate a joust to-morrow In honour of this victory we have won; And you must ride in it: for we were mourning That it should lack the star of all my knights. The Marshals wait me. But my Queen, no word? Welcome him, Guenevere. Give me your hand.

(_Takes_ GUENEVERE’S _hand in his_.)

Launcelot, it was you that long ago Saved my Queen for me, when proud Orkney’s King Had taken her, trapped and captive, to his tower. You brought her back to me: you saved her then. Have you forgotten?

Launcelot. I remember it.

Guenevere. What need to call that old day back to us?

Arthur. Circumstance is a quicksand. If the day Fall on me ever when my Launcelot stands Not on my side----

Launcelot. Never shall that day dawn! My King, I say again those words I said When first I vowed my fealty. By that sword Which made me knight, I swear me to be true. I will devote my body to your cause, I will not fail you by my hand or heart While breath is in me; and if I fail, be this My adjuration and high oath fulfilled In curse and condemnation on my soul.

Arthur. So anchor faith in one another’s breast.

(_Takes_ LAUNCELOT’S _hands_.)

Guenevere, to these hands, these loyal hands, That never in my battle failed me yet, See, I commend you still. So, God be with you.

(ARTHUR _goes out. A pause._ LAUNCELOT _fights against the returning passion which he thought he had conquered_.)

Guenevere. Do I grow old And negligible? Ah, so long away And never a word, never a single word! I think that Launcelot is so long away He forgets Guenevere.

Launcelot. If he remembered An hour when he forgot her----

Guenevere. You are changed; Pale in the cheek, cold in the heart; or is it The young eyes of a maid, and her soft hands Touching you? Who is this fair maid?

Launcelot. My Queen, You heard me. Thank her, if you find it thanks That I am here to serve you.

Guenevere. You are changed. Something, I know not what, has wrought in you. You are still absent from me. I hear your voice, But it is like the dream-voice that was all I had, these days of desolation. Tell me, Am I, too, altered?

Launcelot. You are beautiful As when I first beheld you, Guenevere; More beautiful.

Guenevere. And you, you too, have suffered. You have been wounded, and I was not there. Ill chances happen, when you go from me. Why did you go from me? And there was none To love me.

Launcelot. Guenevere! The King----

Guenevere. The King! He gives me to your hands; defends me so, With circumspection, like a palisade From far away; not with a strong right arm About my body and a sword in hand. I am but a custom and an effigy Robed for his realm’s observances; and he Remembers only that I wear a crown. He is as far from me as the night stars. I cannot touch him, cannot wound him.

Launcelot. Queen, I love him. Speak not so.

Guenevere. I am alone, And there is none to love me.

Launcelot. Here am I, With my sword, with my blood, every last drop Of blood that’s in my body, and it is yours.

Guenevere. And yet you left me--left me to Mordred’s mercy. I am afraid of Mordred, Launcelot. He has barbed your very absence; whispers that you Fled from a rumour grown too dangerous Because you dared not fight against the truth-- Ah, now you put your hand upon your sword-- Yes, even this. He has been diligent, Has Agravaine, his brother, at his side. And Colegrevance has joined them, with his friends Patrice and Mador; and these go about Shrugging suspicion at me, breathing hints Foul as a fog about my name.

Launcelot. Vile traitors! Mordred plays deep then, and makes power about him. I fear that he is falser than you dream. The rumour runs that treachery was at work Conniving with these rebels in the North. My life upon the hazard, it was he. The Queen is but a pawn in Mordred’s game That plays--who knows?--for kinship. Guenevere, This poison that he brews and breathes abroad Is but to start dissension round the King And split the realm in two. But that my Queen Should suffer torture for his use! The traitor! If this impalpable fog could take a shape, A body--there before me--a throat to strangle, A breast to strike at and to kill!

Guenevere. Ah, now I have a shield and a sword--what care I now For the world’s evil tongues? You are come back, And spring is in the sky. Is it not sweet To taste and feel? The blue sky, the warm air, Trembling among the young leaves. Now I feel As when we went a-Maying in the woods Together and alone. Pluck me a flower. There at the window one peeps in.

(LAUNCELOT _brings her a rose. She caresses his hand._)

So sad? So sad still? Come into the golden sun. Look, every small shoot thrills up to the light. Smell the sweet rose upon its thorny briar.

Launcelot. Sweet as old hours remembered.

GUENEVERE (_very softly_)

Sweet as those To come.

LAUNCELOT (_madly embracing her_)

Ah, Guenevere, to suffer so. I am yours, yours, only yours--(_abruptly breaking away_)--O God, have pity!

Guenevere. Why should we not take what there is of joy, So little as there is, so little?

Launcelot. Guenevere, I have sworn. There’s burning fire Between us.

(_Pushes her from him._)

Guenevere. Where is your joy gone? In what strange countries have you been from me? This--this is not the Launcelot I knew.

Launcelot. That Launcelot must die. Think of him slain, As in my anguish I have fought to slay him! Where have I been? I have been down in the darkness, near great Death. I have had dreams upon my fever-bed, Trances that touched the mortal sense of Time To nothing; and Eternity looked in To the inmost of my soul, There seemed no lifting of a hand but had Its shadow vast in heaven----

Guenevere. We are sinners all. Put these black dreams behind you----

Launcelot. And no deed But, like a wave that writes upon the sand Ebbed from its naked witness, I remembered What in the fault and soilure of our nature I have wrought amiss. Guenevere, I am afraid To see my very self, as God sees it.

Guenevere. That is God’s business. He has made us flesh. When we are spirits, and in the world of spirits, It may be then that we shall ache no more, Nor hunger for a voice, a touch, a kiss; But while this wine of earth is in my veins, I hunger. Had I sought for happiness, Should I have chosen love? But it was Love Chose me, and all my soul is dyed in yours, I cannot be a separate self----

Launcelot. Nor I. Guenevere, when this body is in the grave, My very dust will turn and yearn to you. As the seed springs and shoots up through the earth, So shall I come to you.

Guenevere. But now, but now, Have you no joy of me?

LAUNCELOT (_as if no word were stranger_)

Joy?

Guenevere. Do you keep Your passion for the dust and for the grave? Oh, you grow weary, say the truth at last, For a young hand has touched you.

Launcelot. Guenevere!

Guenevere. Why did you leave me?

Launcelot. I was afraid.

Guenevere. The truth.

Launcelot. I thought to pluck you from my heart: and if Sharp stone or cutting steel could do it, I’d Have spared no agony. But stone nor steel Can root what’s part of every breath I breathe. Though I should stamp on it, it flowers again And looks like innocence. I fled from love That was too strong for me.

Guenevere. And fled to her. I see you changed, and she has wrought the change. Insulter, mocking me with sick pretence And virtuous aversions. Love! You love! The burning name is ashes in your mouth. You are weary, you are weary, you are weary! You’ll none of me, and I’ll have none of you, I’ll choose another for my sword and shield Not you--that are but words.

[_She rushes out in great anger._

Launcelot. Didst thou make woman, God, As thou hast made fire, earthquake, and sea-storm, To raise a beauty of terror and overthrow Great realms and reason’s self? Comes she again, The flame is on the wind and I am straw. I’m in the net. Oh for an enemy To hurl at! Dogs, would they betray their King, Shatter that dearest jewel of his life, This realm; make me their poisoned instrument, And in the crash drag down into the dirt, O infamy!--my Queen? Get to your work, Mordred; prime your crew; Hatch your plot! Still I have my word to say. If no way else avails I’ll take me hence To my own country, and you shall stretch your hands To grasp at nothing. Well, Whatever comes, I have a sword that’s clean.

THIRD SCENE

_Astolat. A room with a low seat by a window at the back, as in Scene I._

SIR BERNARD _and_ TORRE _stand watching_ ELAINE, _who sleeps by the window. They talk in low tones._

Torre. See how she is wasted. If you lift her hand, it is as light as a leaf, and she shakes with the beating of her heart. He has cast a spell on her, bewitched her.

Sir Bernard. I would I had that balm, whatever country bears it, that should refresh my child.

Torre. Twice has she started from her sleep crying: “It is he! It is he!”

Sir Bernard. Alas, that her mother is dead. What should an old man do against love?

Torre. Love? It is madness.

Sir Bernard. Love is madness.

Torre. It is not nature.

Sir Bernard. Nature makes this blossom red in the young heart, and cares not whether it be sweet or bitter.

Torre. She is a child.

Sir Bernard. An hour has made her older than the world. I would that Sir Launcelot had never seen her, or that seeing her he had loved her.

TORRE (_indignant_)

Father!

Sir Bernard. I would he had loved her.

Torre. How can you say it? A man fouled with sin. If God strike him not for this, I will say there is no God.

Sir Bernard. Who can tell men’s hearts? Sir Launcelot, I doubt, will bring me to the grave. And yet he was a noble knight.

Torre. A villain.

Sir Bernard. He has sinned, it may be, yet we knew him and found him noble.

Torre. I know what he has done--the traitor.

Sir Bernard. Anger will not move love. Let us rather pray to God that He may change her heart and bring her through pain to peace.

Torre. My heart is too hot. I will go to the Court. I will challenge Sir Launcelot to the death. I will fling my glove in his face and call him what he is.

Sir Bernard. Softly. She is moving.

ELAINE (_suddenly_)

Hark.

Torre. What is it?

Elaine. It is a rider.

Torre. I heard nothing.

Elaine. He is coming. He is coming. I can hear his step on the stair. Launcelot!

Torre. I hear nothing but the blackbird in the sycamore. (ELAINE _falls back_.) See, sister Elaine, it is May. The thorn-boughs are white. Shall we go a-Maying in the woods? Just as we used?

Elaine. Let me die now. Since Sir Launcelot will not come to me, I must go to him.

Sir Bernard. Child, my child, put away the thoughts of earth.

Elaine. Dear father, I am an earthly woman, and love an earthly man. Is it so great an offence to love? I hope God may pardon me, since I have borne such pains. But if He will not pardon, I cannot help my love.

Sir Bernard. I beseech you, Elaine, think not on Sir Launcelot any more.

Elaine. I was called “The Fair Maid of Astolat ...”; but that has helped me nothing.... Is Torre here?

Torre. I am here, sister.

Elaine. I have something to ask of you, Torre.

Torre. Ask anything, sister, dear sister.

Elaine. Write me a letter, Torre.

Torre. A letter?

Elaine. Get paper and pen. (TORRE _gets paper and pen_.) I will tell you the words. Write!

TORRE (_suspicious_)

Is it to him?

Elaine. Whom else?

Torre. Sister, I cannot.

Elaine. You do not love me, Torre.

Torre. I would give you my life, but do not ask me this.

Elaine. It is the last thing I shall ask.

Sir Bernard. Do as she wishes, son.

TORRE (_after an effort_)

Tell me the words.

Elaine. “Most noble Launcelot ... I was your lover, though you would not love me. (TORRE _forces himself to write_.) You would not love me, and therefore I can endure no longer. I was called the Fair Maid of Astolat, and yet I was not loved. So I make my lament to all fair ladies and to the Queen Guenevere. Sir Launcelot, since you would not come to me, now come I to you. Bury this my body that is dead for love of you....”

Torre. Elaine, dear sister, do not speak so--you shall not die.

Elaine. It is not finished, Torre. Write.

Torre. No, no.

Elaine. There is so little time. Write. “This is the last thing that I ask of you that would not love me. And, Sir Launcelot, as you are a knight peerless, pray for my soul.” Is it written?

Torre. It is written.

Elaine. All?

Torre. All.

Elaine. Prop my head a little ... Father! Where are you, father?

Sir Bernard. I am here, child.

Elaine. The letter! While I am still warm, put it in my hand. Bind it there, father, bind it fast.

Sir Bernard. It shall be done.

Elaine. And when I am cold, clothe me in the fairest dress I have. Put me on the barge.

Sir Bernard. On the barge?

Elaine. Let old Simon, dumb Simon, take me, and steer downstream to Thames. So I shall come to him.

Sir Bernard. It shall be done. You know I never said “Nay” to your desire, little daughter. Perhaps it was not wisdom.

Elaine. Is the day nearly done?

Sir Bernard. Yes, child, the sun is sinking behind the great trees.

Elaine. The flowers are falling....

Torre. Elaine!

Sir Bernard. She does not hear us. She does not know us any longer.

Torre. What is she saying?

Elaine. The rushes are gliding, the rushes are gliding. The water, the water! The flowers are falling upon me.

Torre. Oh, father, will she really die? She, so young.

Sir Bernard. She will die because she is so young. We that are old, we endure.

FOURTH SCENE

_Westminster. A vast circular banqueting hall with steps to the river in front. The hall is hidden at first with heavy curtains so that only the stairs are seen._ LAVAINE _by the river steps, leaning pensive on the balustrade_.

_Enter_ GARETH _and_ GAHERIS _arm in arm_.

Gareth. Who’s yonder?

Gaheris. Our new courtier, young Lavaine.

Gareth. Stolen apart to admire his blushing looks In the dark water.

LAVAINE (_turning_)

Gaheris! Ah, and Gareth! Are you for the banquet?

Gareth. Come, Narcissus, come; And you shall find a mirror more attractive In ladies’ eyes.

Lavaine. My thoughts strayed up the river to my home. I wondered when the ripple that I watched Went by our cowslip meadows. Months it seems Since I was there.

Gaheris. Soon they will be acclaiming Your feats and praises in the joust, Lavaine.

Lavaine. I did but follow where Sir Launcelot led.

Gareth. A good road that.

Gaheris. How furiously he fought!

MORDRED _enters through curtains. He pauses a moment; then goes off at side._

Gareth. There’s one he toppled down.

Lavaine. What prince is that?

Gareth. No friend to Launcelot, nor to us.

Lavaine. Then none to me.

Gareth. Hush! He is dangerous.

Gaheris. There are black bruises under those fine silks, I’ll swear. How hard Sir Launcelot struck!

Gareth. The Queen Should have been there to see him.

Gaheris. It is strange: He wore a lady’s favour, a red sleeve.

Gareth. And never in his life wore such a badge.

Gaheris. None will dare ask his secret.

Lavaine. The red sleeve? It is my sister’s. She prevailed on him To wear it for her sake.

Gaheris. Your sister’s? Ah!

(_The brothers exchange looks._ MORDRED _reappears with_ AGRAVAINE.)

Gareth. Mordred again! And Agravaine with him.

GAHERIS (_to_ LAVAINE)

His brother.

Gareth. And both dangerous.

(_Music sounds within._)

Gaheris. Let’s be quit.

Gareth. Hark! There’s the music.

(_The young men bow ceremoniously as they pass in to_ MORDRED _and_ AGRAVAINE, _who come down to the steps and begin talking hurriedly_.) AGRAVAINE

What do you want of me?

Mordred. A private word Before the banquet. I have news to-night. These headstrong rebels chafing in the West Are grown impatient. If we act not quickly They’ll doubt my power. I have promised them too much.

Agravaine. Good. Then we strike and kill this Launcelot.

Mordred. Fool, To glut your appetite, you’d lose the world.

Agravaine. What is the scheme, then, that shall better it?

Mordred. I stake my first throw on this feast to-night. The Queen is vext and in her stormy mood, For that she feigned a sickness in excuse To absent her from the jousts. Now when she’s tinder To any chance fire--words can strike a spark; Watch me for that--her secret may be out Before she know it.

Agravaine. You are too cunning, Mordred.

Mordred. The King will not believe Without stark proof. But he shall have it. Listen. I have a fellow, silent as the snow, Who watches; he is soft on Launcelot’s steps, And Launcelot’s a moth that cannot choose But flit to the candle. There’s a secret way To the Queen’s chamber, cunningly contrived; Since Launcelot went, I have found it. Soon or late We trap him; it may be this very night.

Agravaine. Stark proof for the King!

Mordred. Nail that into his soul Red-hot as searing iron the flesh; Then what a weapon is a righteous cause! He will be just. King Arthur is most just. But when the gall is in him, when he has smelt The wormwood up into his brain, and dyed His very dreams black--Launcelot shall be banished, And half of Arthur’s bravest go with him: Or Launcelot defies him: either way The realm’s in pieces; and my hour is come.

Agravaine. Mordred, you are a devil.

Mordred. On the instant we make certain of the King And Launcelot’s sentence, post we to the West. There from our vantage we can launch our powers Ripe to the moment, and the throne is mine.

Agravaine. I’d liefer have my steel in Launcelot’s heart.

Mordred. Calm now; no hot words, and no hasty hand Flying to the sword-hilt! Watch me and the Queen. Wine shall be drunk to-night, and with the wine, It may be, the truth spilt upon the floor!

(_Curtains draw back and disclose the Round Table spread for a banquet. The knights are already assembling._ MORDRED _and his brother joins them. Harpists attending._)

Mordred. Good evening to Sir Gawaine!

Gawaine. You are gay, Sir Mordred.

Mordred. Why not? Bright eyes match a feast. Have you no smiles?

Gawaine. What have you heard?

Mordred. I? Nothing.

Gawaine. I hear the King sits not at table with us.

Mordred. Indeed? For what cause?

Gawaine. There came news to-night.

Mordred. Ill news?

Gawaine. Who knows? News from the West, Mordred.

Mordred. Is trouble afoot there, too? But all’s secure, Now we have Launcelot back. Is he not here?

Gawaine. He is with the King.

Mordred. But I see friends of his. Greeting to you, Sir Bors, and you, Sir Kay.

AGRAVAINE (_to_ COLEGREVANCE)

Colegrevance, be wary.

COLEGREVANCE (_going apart with him_)

What’s afoot?

Agravaine. (_They whisper together._)

Be wary.

_Enter_ BEDIVERE

Bedivere. I come straight from the King: the Queen to-night Presides for him. Lucan, array the guests. The Queen approaches.

(_The guests arrange themselves. Harps. The_ QUEEN _enters attended by her ladies. All are standing._)

Guenevere. Welcome and salutation to you all. Our banquet loses what it least should lose On such a day as this; my lord the King Had thought to celebrate his feast with those That bore his banners into victory: But sudden cares absent him. Pray, be seated. Your Queen is honoured being in his place. Brave knights, my welcome, A Queen’s dear welcome. Glad am I, Sir Gawaine, To greet the legend of the land for valour, Proud in unchampioned causes; And you, Sir Mordred, far-seeing in counsel; Sir Bedivere, our sovereign’s pillar of trust; Sir Kay, Sir Bors, Sir Agravaine, Sir Lucan, Sir Colegrevance----Is not Sir Launcelot here?

SIR KAY (_to a lady_)

Go, tell Sir Launcelot the Queen asks for him.

Guenevere. Welcome to you, Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris. Never a Queen Had round her such array of peers renowned In arms and courtesy.

Gawaine. Most royal Queen!

Mordred. The honour that you do us dumbs our speech.

(_The_ QUEEN _seats herself upon a raised daïs at the back. All take their seats and the banquet begins. Each knight is attended by his squire._)

Guenevere. I grieve my sickness robbed me of yesterday’s Great jousts: I had thought to glory in them, and joy In the prowess of antagonists so noble.

Bedivere. Our grief it was, your presence shone not on us.

Bors. Ah, Madam, had you seen Sir Launcelot there!

Kay. He never rode so terrible a course In all his days.

Bedivere. There was no man could stand Against the fury of his setting on.

Colegrevance. Why, all men have their lucky day.

Kay. And this Was not denoted in your stars.

Colegrevance. For me These jousts are toys. What comfort’s in a partridge to good hunger? Give me a pasty royally bastioned, stuffed For siege, a challenge to the assault; and give me Battle’s reality, not miming spears. When the blood’s up and runs hot in the veins Then you shall see these hands of mine at work, Not play.

Kay. And yet methought the blood was up, When Launcelot bore you down.

Mordred. Ah, yesterday Launcelot was an army, not a man.

Agravaine. It seems he is too weary with his feats To grace this royal table!

Guenevere. Dear my lords, I raise a cup to your good fellowship. If, as may chance, the semblance of division Or the beginning of an enmity Set any of you askance at one another, Let it be melted in this cordial wine. Shall it not? If a word has flown, forget it, If any old wound be open, let it close, And mould to-night your fellowship anew. Drink with me all: “King Arthur’s fellowship!”

(_The knights, rising, respond with a great shout. Deep horns sound a flourish._)

All Knights. “King Arthur’s fellowship.”

Gawaine. You speak to loyal hearts.

LADY (_returning_)

King Arthur, Madam, Takes private counsel of Sir Launcelot, Who prays to be excused.

Guenevere. As the King wills.

Bors. It seems new strife is hatching in the West.

Bedivere. These rats gnaw at our realm on every side.

Gawaine. So we shall soon be horsed----

Gareth. And in the field.

Gaheris. Lavaine, there shall be spurs to win.

Agravaine. These rebels Renown us not. There’s not a knight among them.

Kay. Enough for Colegrevance to flesh his steel.

(_A laugh from_ LAUNCELOT’S _friends_)

Mordred. While we go to the wars, ladies lament.

Bors. What, ladies, Mordred?

Mordred. Breaker of hearts, so modest? I thought Sir Launcelot’s comrades boasted more Of sighs than trophies. As for me and mine----

Colegrevance. We are blunt men-at-arms.

Mordred. But you, Sir Bors; If I were not discreeter than the dusk----

(_A laugh from_ MORDRED’S _followers_.)

Guenevere. Friends, of your charity!

Mordred. I say no more.

Guenevere. Your tongues speak trippingly of breaking hearts, Yet of your courtesy remember this: A woman has no armour, has no sword; And absent, how shall she defend herself? If tongues be sharp with malice, A woman must be silent. If defamers Stab at her honour in the dark--why, still She must be silent. I am a woman, a Queen; And yet, how can I fight with evil tongues? I count you all as friends, all of you here; And if your Queen on any day should need Armour and sword, she gives to you her honour; The dearest thing she has she gives to you.

Gawaine. Now may the lightning scorch the lips that made Our loyal oaths, if we forget. In peace As in the hour of peril, we are yours In service absolute; and we will shed Our bosom’s last blood to defend our Queen. Do I not speak for all?

BEDIVERE (_raising his cup_)

For all! The Queen!

All Knights. We pledge her.

Gawaine. Sword and life!

All Knights. Hail to the Queen!

Bors. To the most gracious lady in the land!

Lucan. To the glory of this isle!

Kay. The Western star!

Mordred. The radiant rose of Britain and the world!

Gawaine. Happily spoken. Mordred hits the mark: “The radiant rose of Britain and the world.”

All Knights. The radiant rose of Britain and the world.

(_A great flourish from the horns._)

Guenevere. Thanks to you all, thanks from my heart that glows Great in my bosom to be pledged so queenly, To have such praises like a crown upon me More golden than this circlet; for I feel Your voices are like swords upon my side Flashing about me. Sir Mordred, specially I thank you, since Too seldom have we seen you grace our table. Honour us more!

Mordred. I am honoured past desert. Let me again pledge that most royal beauty Dimming the fame of queens dead and renowned. Drink yet again, knights, to our Queen.

All Knights. Our Queen!

(_Another flourish._)

Mordred. Yet something, give me pardon, something lacks Your feast, Queen Guenevere.

Guenevere. Speak your desire. I blame my entertainment that it lacks----

Mordred. Sir Launcelot!

Guenevere. I have word the King requires him In council.

Mordred. A light is wanting by your side When Launcelot is absent. You have spoken Of the division that an envy breeds. Lives one who envies not Sir Launcelot? If it be fault, I must confess to it. Fame he has and love, And therefore stands the envy of the world. Where is the man’s hand can prevail against him, Or where the heart of woman? When in the bright lists Launcelot rode on me How was I dazzled? Not by him alone; I marvelled at the red sleeve which he wore, Beauty’s proud badge. That smote me in the eyes. My Queen, it was your red sleeve conquered me.

Guenevere. A red sleeve? Launcelot?

Mordred. Knights, Red wine to the red sleeve! (_A pause._) Does no one drink? Have I said aught amiss?

Guenevere. What does Sir Mordred rave of?

Bedivere. Queen, excuse. It is but some extravagance of phrase.

LAVAINE (_shyly_)

Sirs, This red sleeve is my sister’s.

Mordred. Not the Queen’s?

(_A pause._)

Colegrevance. Out of the mouth of babes!

Mordred. Oh, pardon me If in my innocence I have offended.

Guenevere. Sir Launcelot wore a red sleeve yesterday? And this sleeve was your sister’s?

Lavaine. Yes, my Queen. She supplicated him to wear it.

Guenevere. She Has healed him of his wound. For gratitude He could have done naught else.

Mordred. But this is marvel. Never did Launcelot take such badge before Of any lady. More than gratitude This surely meant.

Gawaine. Mordred, the Queen has spoken. You slight her word.

Mordred. Nay, for the Queen must joy With all her knights in so surpassing news. We shall see Launcelot bring to Court at last A bride. Sirs, drink with me to Launcelot and his bride!

AGRAVAINE, COLEGREVANCE, PATRICE, AND MADOR

To Launcelot and his bride!

Guenevere. I also drink to Launcelot’s fair bride. And now, sirs, I will pray you pardon me. (_To_ SIR LUCAN) Sir Lucan, bid my woman to attend me.

(_Pause._)

GAWAINE (_in a low voice_)

Mordred, this marring of the feast is yours.

Mordred. I spoke but praises.

Gawaine. Honey, dropping venom.

Agravaine. Gawaine, you are ever shaping taunts at us.

Bedivere. Sirs, sirs, the Queen!

Mordred. I spoke no word but what should honour her.

Bors. Sir Mordred, we That are the friends of Launcelot know not you So fond a lover of his fame; so pardon If phrases of such fashion seemed to taste ... I say no more. Yet be assured, if ill Be meant to Launcelot, rue to him that means it.

Colegrevance. A threat! By Uther’s beard, we’ll not be threatened.

Mordred. Colegrevance, be still. What said the Queen. Accord old feuds, be friends. Which of us now shows her obedience?

Kay. Were Launcelot here----

Agravaine. Launcelot, Launcelot! Must we be ever plagued with Launcelot?

Bors. Yesterday, Agravaine, you had some cause.

(_A laugh from_ LAUNCELOT’S _friends_.)

Agravaine. I defy you all.

Bedivere. The Queen!

Agravaine. The Queen, it seems, Has bidden us to be gibed at.

Mordred. Peace, sirs, peace. The Queen bade us be merry. I ask your pardon if I spoke amiss, I marvel that a sleeve, a mere red sleeve----

GAWAINE, BEDIVERE, BORS, KAY

Mordred!

GUENEVERE (_rising in wrath_)

Unmannerly dastard!

(_Pause and a low laugh from_ AGRAVAINE.)

Nay, forgive me, sirs; I am not all recovered from my sickness: Pardon me if I leave you; stir not. Come.

[_Exit with ladies._

GAWAINE (_after a pause, to_ MORDRED)

What devil pricked your tongue to speak of that?

Mordred. Why should I not?... Were it not injury to think such thoughts I would say----

Gawaine. To your meaning, and be done.

MORDRED (_slowly_)

I would say Gawaine hints of some dishonour, Some secret that must not be told abroad. Would Gawaine say the Queen Is jealous because Launcelot----

Gawaine. Slanderer!

Mordred. It was not I that hinted.

Lavaine. The red sleeve, I tell you again, Sir Mordred, was my sister’s. For Elaine’s sake and in mere courtesy Sir Launcelot wore it.

Mordred. Needs the Queen these defenders?

Colegrevance. What fool boy’s talk is this? A paramour The more, say I.

Agravaine. False to one, false to all.

Lavaine. Liar!

Agravaine. I will have blood for that.

Colegrevance. And I.

Bedivere. For shame! Be silent. Here in the King’s hall!

Agravaine. Off, masks! We have slobbered phrases long enough. The Queen confessed, you know it by her eye And cheek of flame that spoke clear as a trumpet “Launcelot is mine! None else shall have his love While I have breath and can deceive the King.” Shall the King be deceived?

Bors. Drag him away!

Agravaine. To the King!

COLEGREVANCE, MADOR, PATRICE

To the King!

BEDIVERE, LUCAN, KAY, BORS

To the King? No.

Gawaine. Silence! To the King? And shame The very floor we stand on? To the King, And with what pitiable pretext? Why, But that the wine is flown into your brains, What colour is in this tale? The morning air Will blow it into nothing.

Agravaine. That we’ll see.

Bedivere. Mordred, you vowed devotion to the Queen.

Mordred. I have said naught against her.

Bors. Hypocrite!

Agravaine. Do you dare insult my brother?

Lucan. Are Britain’s peers Grown tavern brawlers?

Kay. Launcelot shall hear you And prove upon your bodies that you lie.

Agravaine. The truth is out, and Launcelot shall die For all his champions.

PATRICE

Come we to the King.

Bedivere. Are knightly vows then turned to drunkards’ oaths?

Kay. Is loyalty in the gutter?

Gawaine. Shame on all If one word come to the King’s ear of this.

Bedivere. And with this hubbub we affront the Queen Most shamefully. Remove we all, at once.

(_The knights pass out in great turmoil_, MORDRED _lingering last_.)

Mordred. I have pulled the sluice. Now let the torrent stream.

[_Exit._

GUENEVERE _enters with one of her women_.

Guenevere. Sir Launcelot, have you found him?

WOMAN

He is here.

(GUENEVERE _dismisses the woman with a gesture_. LAUNCELOT _enters, grave and preoccupied_.)

Launcelot. My Queen!

Guenevere. Perjurer! The truth leaps to light at last! Ah God, Launcelot, that I trusted you, Loved you with such a love, such a mad love, So weak! But now my heart turns into hate And all my blood into one river of scorn. Oh, that I were the lightning and could strike To the false heart of you; there, there, Behind the lips that vowed me endless love To the false heart that laughed those vows away, False as the sea, cruel and false with smiles And sighs and perjured protestation.

Launcelot. Queen!

Guenevere. Who fills your secret bosom, fires your thought? Who speeds her champion’s onset in the lists? Not I, but she whose dear red sleeve you wore.

Launcelot. Guenevere, hear me!

Guenevere. A milky-hearted maid, A tender maid, the maid of Astolat, She for whose sake you did what never yet You did for any woman. And you came Fresh from her clasp, and her cold kiss, to me! Get to her, haste to her. Run to that adoration of meek eyes----

Launcelot. Guenevere, Guenevere! you are much deceived.

Guenevere. Deceived indeed! Ah, did you ever love? Is all that sweetness, ah God, all that seemed So sweet, it tortures me to think of it, Ashes and dust? Horrible! Now I know Why you came sainted and exalted back-- Loyalty and compunction on your lips, But in your heart a love you dared not own. It is this girl that’s changed you. Go to her!

Launcelot. I am not changed, my Queen. It is you change.

Guenevere. I?

Launcelot. Has some devil entered into you That you rave slander? Speak not, for you shall hear me. You have wronged One that you know not, and me too you wrong That never loved any but you, have spent Blood for you, fought for you, have many times Been in death’s peril for you, and would to God, If so I am requited, would to God That I had never loved.

Guenevere. Ah, you have said it.

Launcelot. I love her not, you know it.

Guenevere. Yet you wore Her sleeve, her favour.

Launcelot. What I did, I did For pity, and for the shielding of your name. I would not wear your favour for that cause.

Guenevere. And yet you never did so much for love.

Launcelot. She had won me back from death. How otherwise Could I requite her, since I could not love? So earnestly she asked me for that boon.

Guenevere. It was a token to the world you loved her. You had no thought of me, never a thought.

Launcelot. Rack me no more! Day and night, night and day, The image of your eyes and voice and hair Burns me; you are twisted in my heart strings, I have sought To cut love from my bosom, but I cannot, I cannot; and because it saps, divides, Undoes this realm, and wrongs the King I love-- Never can I enough repent that wrong----

Guenevere. Ah, false and faithless, you will go to her.

(_At the height of this scene, suddenly from the right a barge appears with the body of_ ELAINE _upon it. It is steered by a very old dumb servant. It glides very slowly to the steps which lead down to the river._ LAUNCELOT _alone sees it first_.)

Guenevere. What comes into your eyes and sends you pale?

Launcelot. Is it a vision?

GUENEVERE (_to the steersman_)

Whom do you bring, cold on her bier, so strangely? (_To_ LAUNCELOT) Why does he speak no word?

Launcelot. What need of words?

Guenevere. Is it she?

Launcelot. Yes.

Guenevere. What have you done to her?

Launcelot. Speak! Can you answer nothing?

(_The steersman signs that he is deaf and dumb_)

He is dumb.

(_The steersman points to the letter_)

Guenevere. There is a folded paper in her hand.

(LAUNCELOT _steps into the barge, and unties the letter and reads it_.)

Launcelot. “Most noble Launcelot, I was your lover, though you would not love me. You could not love me, and therefore I can endure no longer. I was called the Fair Maid of Astolat, and yet I was not loved. So I make my lament to all fair ladies, and to the Queen Guenevere. Sir Launcelot, since you would not come to me, now come I to you. Bury this my body that is dead for love of you. This is the last thing that I ask of you who would not love me. And, Sir Launcelot, as you are a knight peerless, pray for my soul.”

ARTHUR _appears, entering slowly_

Arthur. What wonder’s here?

Launcelot. The wonder of a death; The wonder and the beauty and the sorrow.

Arthur. Who is this maid?

Launcelot. One that loved overmuch; It is Elaine.

Arthur. The maid of Astolat That healed your wound? How comes she dead?

Launcelot. Read here.

(ARTHUR _reads the letter to himself_.)

GUENEVERE (_Gliding away with bowed head_)

Pardon, pardon, pardon!

Arthur. Is love so terrible? I did not know. I would that you had married her.

Launcelot. I could not.

Arthur. Why, Launcelot?

Launcelot. I could not, Love cannot be constrained. Love must be free. Where love is bound, it breaks free.

Arthur. It breaks free Where it is bound. Bound, and breaks free! Think you That other women can love like to this?

Launcelot. Doubt it not.

Arthur. Even to death?

Launcelot. Even to death.

(_A pause, each thinking his own thoughts._)

Arthur. It is as if a flame had leapt from her And stung me in the brain. Lives such a world of fire in Guenevere And I have never known it? She is smiling, yet she suffered even to death. Heart of a woman! Is a realm so strong, Armies, or battlements? Is faith? Is justice?

Launcelot. I pray you let me go apart awhile For I am charged with a burial.

ARTHUR (_with a change of tone_)

Be it so, There’s something hidden from me. Why that clamour And then the silence when I came among them? (_Going away, he turns_) Launcelot, I have trusted you.

Launcelot. My King, Trust me still.

[ARTHUR _goes out_.

There’s no end now but exile, I must hence, Back with to-morrow’s dawn to my own land, To Brittany. (_He motions to the steersman, and steps into the barge._) Steer down the stream, and I Will bring you to that place Where this must leave the light. Have mercy, Jesu, on that wounded heart! Give me a soul so constant, flight so straight! Some angel of compassion bear her now Where innocence may haven, far from me! Steer on!

(_The barge passes down stream._)

FIFTH SCENE

_The_ QUEEN’S _tower. Night. At the back a bolted door. At one side a prie-dieu, with a footstool before it. A single lamp burning on a tripod._ GUENEVERE _stands by a window, holding the curtain and peering out_.

Guenevere. It has not moved.... It’s nothing; fancy’s fever, That shapes the shadows into forms of fear! And yet there is a shadow among those shadows, And I could swear that shadow had human eyes, Watching. It stirs not. Is it a tree-stem Gives body to the dark? No tree was there.

(_She drops the curtain._)

Can someone have found out the secret way And even now be spying on Launcelot? Pray Heaven he comes not! Why is the air so still With such a mortal stillness? There’s the owl again, crying, and there again! As if it knew the secret of the night And called me warning notes. Was that a step? I am all imagination and sick scares; And that dead face returns, ever returns-- Elaine’s face, smiling cold upon her bier. She burnt her very heart out. Yet her face Had peace on it, and joy! Dead! Did she love Better than I?

(_She looks out again._)

It has not moved. It must be fear’s invention.

(_She throws herself before the Virgin’s image._)

Mother of God, Mother.... She is dead; And yet she triumphs and she humbles me. I _will_ pray. O thou seven-times wounded one, Because thou didst so suffer, look on me; Look in my heart, thou hadst a bleeding heart; Thou knowest how I sinned, but how I suffer.... I cannot pray. I only see that face Dead, with the joy on it. I want, I want----

LAUNCELOT _enters with a cloak wrapped about his head_

Who is it?

LAUNCELOT (_showing his face_)

I. I came the secret way. I come from burying the dead. Elaine Is laid in earth. She sleeps. I have no sleep.

Guenevere. Hush!

(_She goes to the window_)

It is gone!

Launcelot. What is it?

Guenevere. A dark shape, That stood within the shadow of the wall This hour past.

Launcelot. I saw nothing.

Guenevere. If it be Mordred, or Mordred’s spy? Launcelot, go Now, or we are both lost.

Launcelot. What’s Mordred’s hate but a nettle on a dunghill? What is it to me, that go from you for ever? Look on me, Guenevere, for the last time. The hard hour’s here, the bitter moment’s come; To-morrow I hoist for Brittany.

Guenevere. Not yet! Oh no, not yet!

LAUNCELOT (_embracing her_)

Once, once again, and then never again!

Guenevere. Never? Never?

(_She half swoons in his arms._)

Launcelot. O Queen, Queen of the World! Endure! Dear God, Have pity on her Thou madest beautiful With such a beauty as those burning stars In the waste heavens.

Guenevere. Launcelot!

Launcelot. Guenevere! Oh for a stream in a wood beneath the stars! A stream to bathe our souls in, Guenevere! I wish I had a giant’s strength to break This walling world down, hurl it stone from stone, Break from this dungeon into burning life, Free--lost, but free!

GUENEVERE (_pushing him from her_)

Go now, or I shall keep you For ever in my arms.

(_As they gaze silent on one another, voices are heard without. A knocking at the door; then the voice of_ AGRAVAINE _calling aloud_.)

Agravaine. Launcelot! Traitor knight!

Guenevere. What voice is that?

Voices. Traitor! Come forth!

Guenevere. What insolent clamour at my very door! I am a Queen, and daughter of a Queen.

(_A laugh and voices._)

Agravaine. Traitor, come forth to us.

Launcelot. It’s Agravaine!

Agravaine. You are taken!

OTHER VOICES

Taken, traitor; taken at last!

Agravaine. Come you out, Launcelot; there is no escape.

Guenevere. Ah, Launcelot, they are come to murder you!

Voices. Come out! Come out!

Launcelot. Unclasp your hands; I am a man again! The secret way! Farewell, my Queen!

GUENEVERE (_stopping him_)

Wait. That shape I saw in the shadow! If they have set A watch below? Stay an instant. Let me look.

(_She looks out, and her appearance is met with a hoarse and mocking laugh from below._)

Launcelot. Trapped! Is there no armour, not a coat of mail? Nothing?

Guenevere. Alas, nothing.

Voices. Out, come out!

Launcelot. Not a sword even?

Guenevere. Alas, not even a sword.

Launcelot. I would to God I had my armour on me.

(MORDRED _laughs_.)

Mordred’s laugh. It is he that has done this.

Mordred. In the King’s name, we come to avenge the King And the King’s honour.

Voices. Recreant knight, come out.

Launcelot. God strike them! Such shameful crying at your very doors! Better death straight.

Guenevere. Let them kill me, so that they let you go.

Launcelot. Heaven defend me from such shame as that. No, I’ll sell life as dearly as I may, But I would sooner have my armour on me And a sword within my hand than all the crowns Of Christendom. Then, then would I have done Some deeds that men might tell of.

(MORDRED _and his men have brought a bench and begin to batter at the door_.)

Guenevere. They will break in the door.

Colegrevance. Come out to us, And let us kill you.

Launcelot. That was the voice Of Colegrevance. He has the wits of an ox. Be still. Muffle the light. I have a thought. If I am slain, my Queen, pray for my soul.

GUENEVERE (_muffles the lamp_)

You will not open to these hounds of blood?

Launcelot. Be still.

(_He opens the door a little._ COLEGREVANCE _comes in, and_ LAUNCELOT _shuts the door and bolts it in an instant_.)

Colegrevance. There is no light.

(LAUNCELOT _with a great buffet stuns_ COLEGREVANCE. _He draws_ COLEGREVANCE’S _sword and thrusts it into his throat_.)

LAUNCELOT (_to_ GUENEVERE)

The lamp.

(GUENEVERE _uncovers the lamp_.)

Now help me. Quick! Help me to arm.

(_He tears off_ COLEGREVANCE’S _coat of mail and puts it on_.)

Why, what a girth is here. Yet it shall serve.

Agravaine. Colegrevance! Colegrevance!

Launcelot. Now I can defy them.

Agravaine. Vengeance! We’ll break the door, and drag you out. False fighter! You are caught, for all your wiles.

Launcelot. Listen! Cease your slanderous clamour! Listen! Go from this door, each of you get you home. To-morrow come you all before the King. There I will meet you and there answer you. That’s my last word.

Agravaine. Say your prayers now, and we will cry Amen Before we kill you.

Launcelot. Is that your answer? Then Look to yourselves!

(_He sets open the door suddenly, sword in hand._ AGRAVAINE, MADOR, PATRICE, _and_ MORDRED _enter. There is a rush and furious combat._ AGRAVAINE _falls mortally wounded within the room_.)

Voices. Have at him!

Launcelot. Mouths of shame!

Guenevere. Ah, Jesu, help!

Agravaine. I am dead. Mordred, Mordred!

PATRICE (_falling_)

It is the fiend.

Launcelot. To the black heart of you!

(MORDRED _falls wounded, but rises and escapes_.)

MADOR

Help, Mordred, help! The fiend is in him. He has seven swords.

(MADOR _falls_.)

Launcelot. Bring me the lamp.

(GUENEVERE _brings lamp_.)

Ah, never more to insult you now, my Queen.

(_He turns over the body of_ AGRAVAINE.)

It is Agravaine, not Mordred!

(_He holds the lamp over the other bodies._)

Patrice! and Mador! Mordred’s fled, the coward! Why did I not make sure? Fled!

Guenevere. Save yourself! Launcelot, from this hour all’s war and ruin. I forsee it, I that made it. It has come, Doom! Doom!

Launcelot. I’ll to the King.

Guenevere. Your enemy!

Launcelot. Arthur, my enemy?

Guenevere. From this night forth. Away! Gather your friends. Mordred is working while you linger. Ride. Ride without rein to your castle in the North, To Joyous Gard.

Launcelot. To fight against my King? I cannot.

Guenevere. Will you then be taken? Mordred Will be before you with the King. Hasten! Arm; gather every sword that’s on your side.

Launcelot. I cannot fight against my King.

Guenevere. Then fly!

Launcelot. Fly and desert my Queen? Fly in her hour Of utmost peril?... Ah, Guenevere, what’s done nothing revokes, Neither repentance, nor new deeds, nor tears. See, we had parted: the great joy we had Was over; all was anguish and farewell. And now, and now, when we had torn asunder, We are driven together, and we cannot part.

Guenevere. But part we must. This blood all cries against us. Save yourself, I have wrought you wrong enough.

Launcelot. I’ll to the King. He trusted me; and I must tell him all. I am more to him than many Mordreds.

Guenevere. Blind! But if it must be, go this very night, Now! Dawn will soon be upon us.

Launcelot. Call your women, And lock yourselves within some inner room, That no harm come, till I have seen the King. I’ll rouse my friends that should have sailed with me For Brittany to-morrow. With my friends I’ll go to Arthur. Guenevere, if a hair upon your head Be threatened, I’ll not suffer it.

Guenevere. Away!

SIXTH SCENE

_The King’s Tower. The same night. Sentinels discovered who move off at a motion from the King._

ARTHUR _pacing up and down_.

(_Enter_ GAWAINE.)

Gawaine. Does not the King sleep?

Arthur. Gawaine, there are things Will not be put to sleep: thoughts in the blood....

Gawaine. You called me. Midnight’s past. It is near dawn.

Arthur. There’s something secret round me.

Gawaine. Not in me, That with my life would guard you.

Arthur. Guard? From what? What, Gawaine? Why, too, when I came among you-- Bedivere, Mordred, all of you--I heard Hot cries of quarrel called and answered back-- Why was there silence? When I questioned, none Found voice.

Gawaine. They were ashamed.

Arthur. Were you ashamed, Gawaine?

Gawaine. Not I.

Arthur. And yet you answered not.

Gawaine. My King, you know that Mordred and his friends Are glib in slander.

Arthur. Slander of whom? The truth!

Gawaine. They hate and envy Launcelot. To-morrow Let them face Launcelot. You shall hear them then.

Arthur. This was no cause they should not speak to-night. How fell this quarrel out? At my Queen’s feast! Her guests! and Launcelot absent.

Gawaine. I forget.

Arthur. Remember. It was insult to my Queen. How could you suffer it?

Gawaine. I did not, sir. Nor any of your friends.

Arthur. And she, and she? Said they aught of her, of Guenevere?

Gawaine. Ah, King, My blood’s all rage. Pardon my silence now.

Arthur. They spoke of her! They have talked of her abroad! My royal Guenevere! I did not know. I have been housed in my own roof of cares. I have been strange to her, that needed me. Where’s Launcelot?

Gawaine. He took the young Lavaine, And they together have buried that fair maid Who died for Launcelot’s love. He’ll be abed Ere this.

Arthur. Ah!

Gawaine. Surely.

Arthur. Launcelot fled me. Why?

Gawaine. Think not of Launcelot ill. Who sought your good, Who fought for you, who toiled, who suffered, who Gave of his marrow and heart’s faith for you? Launcelot! Has Mordred? Not a jot. If ever There is dissension, rancour, envy, strife, Seek Mordred: you will find him under it Like a snake. Mordred loves you not.

Arthur. I know it, And therefore must be just, more strictly just Where I love least.

Gawaine. Believe me, Launcelot loves you.

Arthur. Do I not know it? Ah, What curse of a sharp sight is come to me? This very love: why was that pain in it? Why was the torment in that loyal voice?

Gawaine. I would I had smitten Mordred to the earth And silenced him for ever.

Arthur. Woman’s love! It is a fire that eats upon the heart. It is past comprehension; it exceeds And feeds upon excess. Duty, duty can be taught and learned; But this love, it is out of all our laws And all our wisdom; none can measure it.... If it be true--ah, Christ, if it be true!

Gawaine. Doubt not that it is false.

Arthur. Heaven knows my heart Has nothing willing in it: slow and heavy Moves my thought thither where the fear is, slow And heavy as sea-tides against the wind. Yet little things hurt in the memory, Like a mote pricking in the eyelid: words That may be fondest innocence, and may not. A look, a flying colour in the cheek, Soft hand-takings and silence of farewells; These may be friendship’s language, but if not, Friendship is foul.

Gawaine. These are the fears of the dead night that tempt Reason against our own heart’s truth. Now, sleep.

Arthur. I put them from my mind, and then again They creep back, like a stain across the floor.

Gawaine. Launcelot’s true, my life on it. Shake this off Like a foul nightmare that the witches send.

Arthur. What days were those when we were young together, The morning of the world! Gawaine, you know How many a time Launcelot took on his shield A blow that might have emptied me of life; At Solway, Celidon, at Badon Hill.... Why should his hand have saved me, why, if....

Gawaine. Ah, Launcelot is the truest knight on earth.

Arthur. And yet he fled from me; fled from himself, If this my hand should suddenly take will, Against my own, to strike at one I loved, It would not more affront my reason. Oh, Gawaine, I love this man.

Gawaine. As he loves you.

Arthur. But woman, woman! I am mad to have these thoughts. If it be true, Gawaine, if it be true!

Gawaine. It’s false; Mordred shall own it.

Arthur. Ay, the proof. Proof, and if no proof, banishment: nay, death. To-morrow this shall all be cleared. To-morrow! Get to bed.

(GAWAINE _is going, when a loud knock is heard without, and_ MORDRED’S _voice, “The King!” The guard opens the door._)

GUARD

My lord, it is Sir Mordred.

Arthur. Let him in.

MORDRED _appears, all bloody_.

Gawaine. Mordred! And there is blood upon his hands.

Mordred. Justice, O King, on a murderer and traitor.

Gawaine. What have you done? What villainy?

Arthur. Peace, Gawaine. Now, speak.

Mordred. I grieve to tell what I must tell, But truth is worth its wound, Launcelot, your friend, The man whom you have trusted, whom you hold Dear as your life and honour, he it is I must accuse.

Arthur. To the accusation. Speak! And yet beware! Speak not without the proof!

Mordred. I have the proof.

Gawaine. Is that his blood upon you?

Arthur. Where is Launcelot?

Mordred. Launcelot is ... where we found him, With the Queen, in her own chamber. Pardon me That loyalty must speak of shame so gross.

Arthur. You have slain him, Mordred?

Mordred. Nay, he has lived to heap A second guilt upon his head. Murder! This is my own blood, where he wounded me, And Agravaine is dead, and Colegrevance, Patrice, and Mador. On the Queen’s threshold Launcelot slew them, thinking that one stroke Should silence all that caught him in his guilt. I cry upon your justice!

Arthur. Launcelot lives?

Mordred. Being taken, he set upon us like the fiend. The darkness, and his trickery, aided him.

Gawaine. One against five, and you all armed like men That go to battle!

Arthur. A marvel is this Launcelot, A marvellous proud fighter! There is none In Christendom or heathendom, I swear To match him. So he lives?

Mordred. He has escaped: But now I cry your justice; banishment For Launcelot, the traitor!

Arthur. There shall be justice done. Look to your wound. To-morrow I will have the proof of all, Mordred--full proof, or on your own head be it.

Mordred. You shall have proof, my King. Peace be to you.

[MORDRED _goes out_.

Arthur. Arm you now, Gawaine, arm! Arrest the Queen. Seek Launcelot out, and take him.

Gawaine. Never, sir. That will I never do. If I did this, It would be said Gawaine abetted what To him is shame and an unreason both. It may be Mordred lured him to the Queen With some feigned message.

Arthur. He was found with her. Why came he not to speak in his own cause?

Gawaine. I am not of your counsel.

Arthur. Then call me Gaheris and Gareth here, Your brothers. They shall do this.

Gawaine. Ah, my lord, They will be as loth as I, but they are young And cannot say you nay. Yet I beseech you----

Arthur. Fetch them. They lodge with you.

Gawaine. If it must be.

Arthur. It must.

(GAWAINE _goes out_. ARTHUR _pulls back the curtains at the window_.)

Dawn. Is it dawn so soon? The birds sang soft so when I wooed her, soft And thrilling with low pipe. Smell of the grass, Dew, and her face, wonderful, coming towards me.... Ah, God, that it were night again, the night, The dark, where I knew nothing, where I loved And trusted, where I had a wife, a friend.

(_He falls on his knees._)

Saviour of men, dear Christ, though my flesh bleed, Lift me to see, distinguish, and be just. The King must needs be just. Let me not fail, Now when thou seest me humbled. I have lost her. Have mercy upon us both. (_He rises._) I am the King, And therefore justice. If I fail, that fails Which is of costlier essence than a King, Which salts corruption. (_Goes towards table._)

GARETH _and_ GAHERIS _enter, and stand by the door_. ARTHUR _turns_.

Gareth and Gaheris, enter! Fear not; come hither.

Gareth. We fear, my liege, what errand This midnight summons, hailing us from sleep, May mean.

ARTHUR (_signing and giving them a warrant_)

Fear not; go, seek Queen Guenevere, And take her into ward, as one that must Be judged. Then find Sir Launcelot, and take Him too. Be armed. Have force with you. Go quickly.

Gareth. The King commands, and we must do his will.

Gaheris. Yet it is sore against our own will, sir.

Gareth. And therefore we will take a guard of force, But for ourselves, we pray you pardon us, But we will not be armed, for we but do The King’s commandment.

_Re-enter_ GAWAINE.

Gaheris. Which ourselves would not.

Arthur. Are you all so stubborn? Get you gone, then; do What I command; be it done instantly.

[GARETH _and his brother retire_.

Gawaine. This is ill done, and no good comes of it.

Arthur. That which I do my will does; I am borne Onward, and cannot stay. The graves are dug For all mortality; our woes have been Wept for from the beginning of the world. I feel the creeping of the rust that dims. Excalibur, and those lamenting Queens That come to take me draw like shadows near Upon the shores of time.

Gawaine. This is ill done, and no good comes of it.

Arthur. What comes has come already.

BORS, LAVAINE, _and other friends of_ LAUNCELOT, _appear with drawn swords in the doorway_.

Are you ghosts? That visit me, so haggard, pale and silent? Your swords are bare and in your eyes are looks Of fear. This dim light has a ghastness in it Making the vision of you strange.

Bors. Sire, pardon! But some of us had terrors in our dreams And leapt awake in sweat, and snatched our swords. It was as if a cry rang in our ears. We thought some danger happened to Launcelot; And lo, we cannot find him.

Gawaine. Launcelot!

Bors. Where is he! Tell us!

Arthur. Ask of the King’s foes. Launcelot is a traitor.

Bors. Woe is me The King should say it. Launcelot loves him more Than all his friends.

Arthur. Choose: choose between your King And Launcelot.

Bors. What miserable cloud Is fallen about us, or what evil dream! Gawaine!

GAWAINE (_shrugging his shoulders_)

All idle! Waves upon a rock.

Arthur. Choose: if your will be on the King’s side, stay: But if on Launcelot’s, turn your faces from me. It shall be battle when we meet again.

[BORS _and his friends look at each other, then silently turn and go out_.

Arthur. So breaks my kingdom. It is gashed in two. Oh, Gawaine! Gawaine! (_He falls upon_ GAWAINE’S _neck_.)

(A MAN-AT-ARMS _is heard without crying: “The King! Where is the King?”_)

Gawaine. Terror’s in that cry!

_The_ MAN _stumbles in breathless_.

MAN (_falling on his knee_)

Pardon me, King!

Gawaine. My heart forebodes an evil.

Man. I am come breathless.

Arthur. Speak!

Gawaine. All news is ill.

Arthur. Tell all.

Man. I am afraid.

Arthur. Your King commands.

Man. The Queen.... Sir Launcelot.

Arthur. Taken?

Man. They are fled. Sir Launcelot has carried off the Queen.

ARTHUR (_starting up_)

Do you live and tell it to me?

Man. Patience, my lord, And I will tell you all. The dawn was breaking. The guard had just relieved us. It was then Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris summoned me On the King’s business. I knew not what it was. We went with them. They had no arms. We went; We came to the Queen’s door, and it was open. The Queen stood there, like one that waited us. There was a lamp burning above her head; Oh, very pale she seemed and very calm. “Do you come at my lord’s bidding?” so she asked. And then Sir Gareth bowed his head. He spoke No word, nor did Sir Gaheris; not a word. And we were awed by her, she was so calm.

Arthur. So calm! And after?

Man. I am telling all. The Queen said “I am ready,” and so she passed Between Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris, And we about them followed. It was dark In the shadow by the walls. There was a mist, A summer mist. The dawn was far above.

Arthur. And then?

Man. We were all sorrowful at heart, Knowing not----

Arthur. To the issue!

Man. Some one cried “Look where the Queen is taken to her death!” Men had thronged up, and women; the cry passed From lip to lip, “She is taken to her death.” And sudden like a lion burst on us Sir Launcelot.

Arthur. Ah!

Man. I know not whence he came, Out of the mist; his sword flashed in his hand, But not so terrible as his eyes. They flamed, You would have thought that when he saw the Queen His very reason rushed right out of him.

Gawaine. Ah, God defend my brothers!

Man. He was mad, Blood-mad he seemed; he knew not what he did, He struck so sudden.

Gawaine. My brothers!

Man. Right and left His sword was like a score of blades flashing. I swear no man could have prevailed against him. ’Twas quicker than a hawk upon a hare. Myself was thrown down. He had caught the Queen, And borne her off--men say, to Joyous Gard.

Arthur. War! It is war!

Gawaine. My brothers? Where are they? Speak, wretch.

Man. I know not.

Gawaine. Speak.

Man. Oh, my good lord, Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris are dead.

GAWAINE (_utters a great cry_)

Launcelot slew them?

Man. He knew not what he did.

Gawaine. They had no arms!

Arthur. Woe is me!

Gawaine. Launcelot! He saw them and he slew them!

Arthur. Woe is me! I let them go. Ah, Gawaine!

Gawaine. Blood for blood! I will believe all evil of him now, I am with you now, my King, and he shall die. My brothers! (_Sinking down._)

_A_ MESSENGER _enters hurriedly_.

Messenger. My lord, the King!

Arthur. What, more? Worse cannot be.

Messenger. Sir Mordred!

Arthur. Speak!

Messenger. He is fled.

Arthur. He, too! How fled?

Gawaine. Who recks of Mordred! Drop him down the wind To his own hell. But Launcelot that I loved Has slain my brothers. Death to Launcelot!

Arthur. Sir Mordred?

Messenger. He has flown and taken all His following with him; armed; an army!

Arthur. So, He has shot his shaft and left it in the wound.

Messenger. My lord, the word goes openly about Sir Mordred’s leagued with rebels in the West. They have summoned him to head them, and revolt Against your crown and kingdom.

Arthur. Gawaine, hear!

Gawaine. I hear. But it’s from Launcelot I’ll have Most bitter satisfaction.

Arthur. Northward now! Summon my knights about me in the hall.

[_Exit_ MESSENGER.

Send a strong force on Mordred’s heels to hold The traitor back. Ourselves will swiftly ride To take the Queen from Launcelot. Day is come, And friends are friends and foes are foes at last.

[_Exeunt._

SEVENTH SCENE

_The_ KING’S _Camp before Joyous Gard. Stormy weather. Black skies against which the earth shows up white and livid. The towers of the Castle appear above rising ground._

Bedivere. Black skies!

Lucan. God’s anger.

Bedivere. How shall this end? Saw you the King?

Lucan. But now he passed into his tent, slowly, with head dejected. His heart is weary of this war.

Bedivere. Sick and sated. The heavy clouds seem to fall on us. One would say that all the tempests of the world had gathered in that storm, which soon will break about us.

Lucan. There’s something monstrous in the season, a curse and an infection. Storm after storm! The corn rots unripened, there’s mildew in the orchards.

Bedivere. And here, unnatural strife. Arthur and the brother of his heart.

Lucan. And the Queen betwixt them, like some baleful star.

Bedivere. And Gawaine mad with hate.

Lucan. How long is it since we have besieged this Joyous Gard of Launcelot’s?

Bedivere. I cannot count the days.

Lucan. This quarrel fills all Christendom. Men say the noise of it goes over the seas even to Rome. Were it not for Gawaine, the King, I think, would make his peace, and Launcelot deliver up his Queen to him.

Bedivere. Not while the King is fixed to bring the Queen to judgment. To that Launcelot will never yield. So stands our wrestle in a deadlock; meanwhile this dear realm splits in two.

Lucan. And Mordred!

Bedivere. The wedge that drives into the crack.

Lucan. I fear Mordred most. The rebel tribes gather to him in the West, while we waste ourselves before Joyous Gard. We should have caught him before he could join and head them.

Bedivere. The King’s force holds him at bay yonder.

Lucan. Yet men begin to cry that with the King all is profitless fighting, but with Mordred feasting and plunder.

Bedivere. Would God we were fighting him, not Launcelot.

GAWAINE _enters_.

Gawaine. Where is the King?

Bedivere. He has passed into his tent. He rests.

Gawaine. What, can remembrance sleep? The wrong that Launcelot has done is red before my eyes, day and night. Can he forget?

Bedivere. The King were a glad man, if he could forget. At the bottom of their hearts is a dear love one to the other.

Gawaine. He shall not forget while I can sting remembrance.

Bedivere. Gawaine, if any man was your friend, it was Launcelot.

Gawaine. The dearer friend, the dearer foe. It grows to madness in my brain, that ever I held that traitor in my heart.

Bedivere. However it be, right or wrong, we are sore grieved to be against him.

Lucan. Sore and sorrowful, Gawaine.

Gawaine. It is you that are against the King, then?

Bedivere. We?

Lucan. Never.

Gawaine. I say you are against him. It is you that blunt his justice, it is you that soften him with fond reluctances, like women looking backward. Who would be a man, and in the cause he has espoused not trample down such weakness?

Bedivere. Who would be a man and utterly forget the friendship of his friend?

Gawaine. Forget! Forgotten! Never! And never forgiven! Had you but the flint in you that a just cause strikes her flame from, we should have overturned these proud towers long ago. But overturned they shall be. I’ll to the King, and rouse him.

[_Exit._

Bedivere. How like a frenzy is his hatred!

Lucan. He is narrowed to one point, vengeance. Look, what’s yonder?

Bedivere. A damsel riding hither from Joyous Gard.

Lucan. Upon a milk-white ass! Look, a gleam follows her from the stormy heaven. A happy omen!

Bedivere. She is in white; like a white dove; like peace. Go, Lucan, go to meet her. (LUCAN _advances. A distant trumpet sounds from_ LAUNCELOT’S _side_.) A trumpet sounds from Joyous Gard. Is it peace at last?

_The_ DAMSEL _enters_.

Lucan. God be with you, maiden.

Damsel. Peace to you, fair lord.

Lucan. Come you from Joyous Gard?

Damsel. I am Sir Launcelot’s herald. I go before him. He comes to parley with King Arthur.

Lucan. I will tell the King.

[_Exit._

Bedivere. Would that the issue might be gracious as the forerunner. What sends Sir Launcelot? Is it peace? (_Trumpet sounds from the_ KING’S _side_.) Hark! The King comes!

_The_ KING’S _knights come on, arrayed as for battle. Trumpets answer from_ LAUNCELOT’S _side_. GAWAINE _enters, and then the_ KING.

Arthur. I hear the trumpet blow from Joyous Gard; Is a lily come against us?

Gawaine. What’s this mockery? What brought this maiden hither?

Damsel. Oh, most noble, Noble King Arthur, graciously hear me! Your servant, Launcelot, comes from Joyous Gard And prays to parley with his lord, the King. You see in me what gentle thoughts are his----

Arthur. White and fair! What avails?

Gawaine. A treacherous trick, To clothe his blackness white, and let it speak In virgin syllables of gentleness.

Arthur. Softly. How is it with the Queen?

Damsel. The Queen weeps.

Gawaine. Send her to her lord again.

(_Trumpet._)

Damsel. Sir Launcelot is here.

[LAUNCELOT _and his knights appear. Exit_ DAMSEL.

Gawaine. No parley, King, Let us out swords and make an end at once.

Arthur. Such embassy must have its honour.

Gawaine. Nay.

Arthur. This is the royal office; Usurp not----

Launcelot. May I speak, my lords?

Arthur. Speak on!

Launcelot. Fair lords, and you my own King----

Gawaine. Perjurer!

Launcelot. I make no war on you, my King. Assure me With confirmation of your kingly oath That harm come not to her that is your Queen, And I restore her straightway and depart.

Arthur. Do you enjoin your terms upon your King?

Gawaine. False once, false always!

Launcelot. To my King I speak. Make me that promise.

Arthur. Justice asks her due.

Launcelot. Never, my lord, shall the Queen stand this charge On testimony of that traitor Mordred.

Gawaine. Yourself’s the traitor! We will take your towers And you shall cry his pardon on your knees.

Launcelot. Knights, lords of Britain, you’ll not take my towers; And if I choose to come forth on the field Soon shall I make an end, and that you know.

Arthur. An end, an end! But God shall make the end. Bring all your boast of knights into the field, Set your array, and sound your trumpets; then The desolate seashores shall have renown And you dishonour!

Launcelot. Ah, my lord Arthur, God defend that ever I should lift arms against my only King!

Arthur. Give me your enmity! We are met in storm And under angry heaven, but were these clouds Of imminent tempest rolled away, and light Before us endless on a path of peace, Our quarrel stretches to the world’s end still And sleeps but in the grave. You have done that Which time can never undo, never amend Or alter into kindness, nor can words That use old fondness reach their lodge again Within this heart. Strike, you shall find it iron.

Launcelot. Say what you will, with you I cannot strive.

Arthur. Ah, Launcelot, you have done me wrong enough----

Launcelot. And I repent it sorely. It is too true, Many of your best have spilt Life in this quarrel. Yet, that I did, I did but in defence Of your own Queen.

Arthur. My Queen whom you have taken, And by force held.

Launcelot. From death and cruel shame I hold her and will hold her.

Gawaine. He has said it! Why parley here?

Arthur. Back to your towers then! Go, Ere we set on. There is no ending here, And no amending save through judgment.

Launcelot. First Listen! Remember, my lord Arthur, how I vowed Long ago, how I vowed, you smiling on, To be your Queen’s true servant all my days. Remember how it pleased her, and you too, To cherish and uphold me more than all And any of your knights; past my desert Indeed, and yet some love did I deserve, Who ever fought for you and for your Queen In many another quarrel than my own. Remember----

Arthur. Speak no more. It’s now; not then.

Launcelot. Yet one word more! Had Mordred and his crew Not set their miserable snare for me That night----

Arthur. That night?

Launcelot. You had been rid of me, Rid of this abjured, exiled Launcelot, And in a realm at peace.

Arthur. What mystery speaks In such a protestation, I know not. Your deeds have deafened us to that.

Launcelot. My King, Even while those felons feasted on the death They plotted for me, out of hate for you, Even when their shameful cries were at the door, I had already made my hard farewell And everlasting absence from your Queen, Because of ill tongues, and because I knew Their worst plot was to part us, and to rend This realm of yours in twain.

Arthur. What avails words? You stole her.

Launcelot. Saved her! Could I leave her then A prey to those fanged foxes? To the wrath They were so cunning with their stratagems To fire in you? I had vowed to be your Queen’s Unalterable knight and steadfast sword. Could I forswear her in her hour of danger?

(ARTHUR, _moved, is silent_.)

Speak!

Arthur. Yield her up.

Launcelot. And she shall be unharmed?

Arthur. Justice must stand, and she abide by that.

Launcelot. On the accusation of a miscreant Proved false as hell? Arraigned in such a cause? Never!

Arthur. Your own guilt, Launcelot, stands clear.

Gawaine. Enough of words. To arms!

Launcelot. Ere that my words Be scattered in this tempest, hear me out. Think of her dead. Think of that royal beauty in its grave! Did Guenevere, your Queen, lie here before you With the eyes that see not, with the ears that hear not, Ignorant of a pardon come too late, Past beyond all repentance, cold to all Tears of your supplication, locked away In silence answerless, would that content you? Oh, take her sorrow to your grace, my King, Take that most noble lady to your grace, And be it peace between us.

Arthur. Peace? Alas! The dear cords that have bound us are all frayed And ragged on the sore.

Gawaine. Insolent thief! The King shall have his Queen, despite of you.

Launcelot. Put me to proof, Gawaine, put me to proof! Hazard your force upon me, and I swear It shall be easier for your single hand To storm a barricaded city, than By force or threat to take the Queen from me, Except I have the King’s oath.

GAWAINE (_drawing his sword_)

Now and here! Now and here! Put it to the proof.

Arthur. Gawaine, Put up your sword!

(_Lightning._)

Gawaine. The heavens strike at him.

Arthur. Launcelot!

Launcelot. Arthur!

Gawaine. I have stemmed my wrath Too long! I have my quarrel in this cause And no fond word shall end it. Murderer! My blood is on you, you are spotted with it, The blood of my young brothers whom you slew.

(_Thunder._)

Cover your eyes! You cannot shield your soul From my full vengeance.

Launcelot. All my soul is grief For what I did that day, and did not know it. Sooner than Gareth I’d have slain myself. I loved him.

Gawaine. And you butchered both defenceless! Red in their blood I see you, hair to heel.

Launcelot. If the King will, I shall do penance for it. I will build chantries over all the land From Cabelot to Dover, and will go A barefoot pilgrim, praying for the souls Of Gareth and of Gaheris whom I loved.

Gawaine. You lie; you did it of your evil will And devilish delight.

Lavaine. You shall not say it. Sir Gawaine, I loved Gareth and I know Sir Launcelot killed him in pure ignorance.

Arthur. Cease, Gawaine, cease!

(_Lightning._)

Gawaine. I will not cease, until That innocent dear blood be wiped away.

Bors. Shall we endure this more?

Lavaine. Speak, Launcelot!

(_Thunder._)

Gawaine. Liar and traitor!

(_He throws his glove in_ LAUNCELOT’S _face. Trumpets from_ LAUNCELOT’S _side_.)

Bors. Out swords!

Lavaine. We are ashamed.

Gawaine. Blow, trumpets, blow my vengeance.

(_Thunder._)

Arthur. It is fated! War and no peace; in earth and heaven, war.

(_The storm breaks with blinding violence as the battle begins._ LAUNCELOT’S _knights defend him from_ GAWAINE’S _fury, giving ground R. Confused fighting in darkness. Cries of “Launcelot!” “Joyous Gard!” “Arthur!” and “Gawaine!” A flash of lightning discovers_ GAWAINE _hewing his way through the fighters_.)

Gawaine. Gash this accursed darkness, flame of heaven, And find me him.

(_He is borne backwards L. by superior force._)

I’ll find him, spite of you. Spite of all.

(_More thunder. Confusion and fighting as before._)

A Voice. Help!

Another. Christ and Arthur!

Another. Better call the fiend That rides this tempest!

(_Thunder again._)

ANOTHER VOICE

Never was such war Since the angels fell.

Another. We are stricken out of heaven.

MANY VOICES

Gawaine! Gawaine!

OTHERS

Launcelot! Launcelot!

A Voice. Death to you!

Another. Brother! I have killed my brother, Woe!

A Voice. The King! Where is the King?

Voices. The King is slain!

Another. We are lost!

Another. A curse, the curse of God!

BORS (_in the distance_)

Fight on! Fight on!

Voices. Joyous Gard! Joyous Gard!

Bors. Press!

Voices. Where is Gawaine?

Bors. Now pursue, pursue; They have no captain.

VOICES (_retreating_)

Lost, we are all lost!

(_The storm mitigates a little, and in the dim light_ BORS _and_ ARTHUR _are seen confronting each other alone, the fight having swept off to the L._)

BORS (_calling_)

Launcelot! (_To_ ARTHUR) Yield you. There is none to aid.

Arthur. But that my heart is weary unto death And my soul sadder than despair----

Bors. The King!

_Enter_ LAUNCELOT.

Launcelot, Launcelot! Shall I make an end? It is the King.

(_He lifts his sword._ ARTHUR _stands motionless, leaning on his sword_.)

Launcelot. On your life’s peril, hold, O friend, against that sacred head!

Bors. Yet here Should end all quarrels.

Launcelot. Down that impious sword, Or never breathe again. My King! Is there a hurt?

Arthur. Not in my flesh. It is of stone, and feels not any more.

(_A long-drawn note is sounded by a distant trumpet._)

Launcelot. What strange note blows upon that trumpet?

BORS (_looking down the slope_)

See, The fighting ceases, and the fighters all Stand motionless.

Launcelot. Go, Bors, and bring me word.

[_Exit_ BORS.

Arthur. Oh, Launcelot, would this war had never been!

(_Thunder retreating._)

Hark! how the heavens groan over us. Out of me, Had I capacity for utterance, would Like storm of woe from this dark bosom burst, Filling the world.

Launcelot. Oh, Arthur! Oh, my King, Had we but met before, thus, face to face! Arthur, you trusted me; and though I guard Your Queen from death, I have not failed you since. But now, since we are met as naked souls Beneath dark heaven, I will confess me. I Have done you wrong that nothing can undo, Not though this thunder cracked the frame of things And spilled the molten world. Since first my eyes Saw Guenevere, I loved her.

Arthur. Launcelot!

Launcelot. Oh! With wrestlings and with torture, yet with such Extreme necessity of love as bound me, Blinded! Against that storm I was not strong; I was a madman, rushing on a spear In rapture. Take your Queen back to your heart, Forgiven, but as for me--lift up your sword And claim this forfeit soul.

(_A distant chanting is heard._)

ARTHUR (_raising his sword_)

I have good cause. I loved, and you have shamed me; more, undone My life, my hope, my kingdom! (_Letting his point fall._) No, I cannot. Were we but met in the hot battle’s blood I’d kill you for that cause. Now I am numbed; And something from within me stays my hand. Take my Queen pardoned to my heart, you plead. Ah, Launcelot! were it merely man and woman, Love should be wide and infinite as air To meet her at the world’s end with my arms, Even at the farthest erring. There’s no help. A man may pardon, but the King may not. The King is justice, or no more a King.

Launcelot. Forgiveness is yet kinglier. Harden not Your heart for ever.

Arthur. Were there but a sign From this charged heaven----

Launcelot. Look!

(_A gleam has appeared in the paling sky and the chant grows nearer._)

Arthur. Is there light On earth again?

Launcelot. What strange stillness has seized upon the host? What chant is that?

Voices. The King! The King! A wonder! Rome! Rome!

(_Certain knights of either party return on the scene, and in their midst a white banner preceding a_ BISHOP, _with a train of priests chanting. With a last remote peal of thunder the storm passes away_.)

Bishop. Peace! Peace to you all! In the name of our Lord Jesu, peace! Our Holy Father on the seat of St. Peter hath sent me hither with his commands. Hasting I come even among your swords and spears; And this is the command that I am charged with. Launcelot shall render his Queen again to King Arthur; she shall not be harmed: And King Arthur shall be accorded with Sir Launcelot. This, upon pain of interdiction of the whole realm of Britain, is the high commandment of God’s regent upon earth, our Holy Father in Rome. My sons, will you obey?

(ARTHUR _and_ LAUNCELOT _bow their heads_.)

Arthur. So far as it be peace betwixt us, I obey.

Launcelot. I go to bring the Queen.

(_He goes away R. as_ GAWAINE _is brought in wounded, leaning on two of his knights_.)

Gawaine. Ah, there! Let me but reach him; hurt though I be, I will satisfy my vengeance.

Bishop. Man of blood, your hour is past. Exorcise from you this vain rage and lust of vengeance. Bethink you of your sins, and of God’s peace. The King receives his Queen again and is accorded with Sir Launcelot.

Gawaine. Not all the priests in Christendom shall force My will to this. I’ll say naught of the Queen; But him will I proclaim still to the world Traitor.

Arthur. Ah, Gawaine, have we not enough Of hatred?

Gawaine. Though I seek him through seven realms I’ll have my retribution, death for death.

(_He faints._)

Arthur. He has swooned. Bear him to his tent.

(GAWAINE _is borne off by his friends_.)

Bishop. Pass now. My errand is performed. Peace be upon you.

[_The priests resume their chant, and the_ BISHOP _and his train pass off_.

Arthur. Look, where she comes.

LAUNCELOT _returns, leading_ GUENEVERE _by the hand_.

Launcelot. My King, I bring to you your Queen again.

(_They kneel down before_ ARTHUR, _then_ LAUNCELOT _raises_ GUENEVERE.)

Arthur. Guenevere!

Guenevere. Oh, my lord!

Arthur. What shall I say?... With a sore heart I took this battle up Which now is ended. Launcelot, I loved you, Cherished and honoured you before all others. But now is parting. My reproach is dulled, Fall’n out of use and anger, Like a spent arrow.

Launcelot. Oh, my King, believe me, Never was it my purpose or my thought To keep your Queen from you, but to defend And shield her from your anger and her foes.

Arthur. Now, as between us both, let God, that brings This end and mystery of returning light After the thunder round us, and that sees Our spirits without mask and unexcused, Judge and have mercy. Tho’ peace be now ordained Between us both, yet from our realm for ever You are banished to your own lands whence you came, To Brittany beyond the seas. Alas! I never thought with such a word to close Our book of friendship, wherein men shall read How, many a time, Launcelot saved his King And brought this kingdom glory. It is not I That shall forget that friendship or those deeds. And truly, for your fault, do I commend you Where is that understanding of our hearts Which is beyond men’s fathom. God be with you.

Launcelot. Now, must I speak That narrow word which, like a little spring Of water, swells to a dividing flood: _Farewell_. O royal Guenevere, farewell. Dear isle, sweet Britain, where I won renown-- All other lands are darkness to your light Which I must leave behind me. Keep my name As one that loved, as one that.... There’s no more! Launcelot passes from this fellowship, This the most noble fellowship of the world, For ever, and the little noise we made In the dull ear of Time so gloriously The streams of silence take. Lord Arthur, though all else be cancelled, yet I keep my oath of fealty; leave me that: And I shall never fail you, heart or hand, While breath is in me. Call me in your need, My sword, my life, are yours.

[LAUNCELOT _passes out with his Knights. The_ KING’S _followers withdraw aside_.

Arthur. Do you not weep to have lost him, Guenevere? He did to me the wrong that least is pardoned, Yet almost I forget my manhood now.

Guenevere. I am past tears. All I have done and been, Been and endured, I see from far away, As if another in my shape were there Moving through storm and fire.--Have you no word, No reproach for me?

Arthur. All my thoughts are stript. As trees after the tempest, and life’s bare As winter to the homeless.

Guenevere. This my heart Did never forge sweet pardons for itself. There is no absolution among men: Give me leave, therefore, to renounce the world And choose the cloister.

Arthur. Will you take those vows? I doubt not you are guided where you go. What’s broken God may there amend, not we.

Guenevere. There is a nunnery at Amesbury: once I entered there, and found strange peace within. I did not know such peace could be on earth. Suffer me, my lord, to go to Amesbury.

Arthur. So be it.

Guenevere. Put remembrance under stone Where the dead lie and feet pass over them. She that so wronged you has no more a name.

Arthur. Bedivere, take you twenty of my knights And ride to Amesbury. Guard you well the Queen; Let no least harm befall her on the way, No trouble: bear her company till you find Those doors that she will enter. For she vows Her days to the nun’s cloister and small cell, And to that peace which the world gives not.

Bedivere. Sir, We are honoured having so noble a charge laid on us. We shall do all your bidding.

Arthur. Set you forth. Farewell, until the last farewell of all!

(GUENEVERE _passes out, escorted by_ BEDIVERE _and Knights_. ARTHUR _is left alone standing in the solemn light of sunset. He breaks out into a cry._)

Launcelot, Launcelot! Guenevere, Guenevere!

EIGHTH SCENE

_The Nunnery at Amesbury._ GUENEVERE _is discovered lying prostrate on the stone steps_. _A nun_, LYNNED, _enters and lifts her up as she speaks to her_.

Lynned. Queen, the day calls us; cling not to the night, The stone, the silence. There is flesh and blood Of your own people, threatened and afraid, That calls on you. Though you have cast the robe Of royalty for this (_touching her nun’s garment_), the queenly heart Has room for other sorrow than its own-- So cold, my sister? Feel within my arms, Feel in my bosom the warm running blood That neighbours yours.

Guenevere. I am wearied, wearied out. I would forget, and cannot. My heart’s numbed With aching like my body. I thought that in these walls there should be peace. Tell me, for you have eyes that understand And seem to suffer, tell me the truth, Sister. I know that it is sinful to remember, And yet, is it not treason to forget?

Lynned. Grief can grow dear--do I not know it?--grief Can grow too dear. The heart that loses all Must still give all.

Guenevere. Take not my grief from me, Or there is nothing left to me on earth.

Lynned. Nay, grief shall change and grow beyond itself. There’s one now at the gate must speak with you.

Guenevere. Send him away.

Lynned. I cannot.

Guenevere. Who is he That seeks me? There was one who used to come To me, always, before he rode to battle. His name was Launcelot. That was long ago. I was a Queen then. I have died since then. It is not Launcelot! Leave me then in peace.

Lynned. Alas, even here within this cloister wall Is no peace any longer, but all round Imminent tempest, ripe to burst on us, Sir Mordred with his host in rebel arms, Thrice swollen in number, threatens ever nearer. Out of the West he thrusts. This very day May see the issue. Never did the swarm Of Saxon heathen press the King so hard.

Guenevere. Who else could seek me now? Is it the King?

Lynned. It is the King.

Guenevere. I cannot see him.

Lynned. Think! He is in deadly danger: it may be This is the last time you may look on him.

Guenevere. I cannot.

Lynned. Sister, I, too, once denied One who had loved me, when he sought me out For my forgiveness. Gawaine was his name. They had told an evil tale of me, and he Believed it in his sudden wrath, and then Repented, and he came to see me, and I Denied him. Now he is dead, that stormy heart----

Guenevere. Sir Gawaine, dead?

Lynned. Dead of that wound he got By Joyous Gard. The news came even now. I shall not see him now, never again; I, that had all his pardon brimming here. And have no pardon for myself.

Guenevere. You, too?

Lynned. We are all kneaded of one flesh; wild earth, Yet heavenly seed can spring in it, and peace That comes in the end, but comes not without cost. It is ill shrinking from our sorrow, Queen. Will you not see the King?

Guenevere. How looked he? Tell me.

Lynned. I saw him in the ghostly morning mist Clad in his armour, sitting on his horse. He rides to battle. Almost like a spirit He seemed, and greater than himself. When he spoke, His voice was gentle, yet withal commanded. And there was such a shining in his eyes As never yet I saw in any man’s Upon this earth.

Guenevere. Go, tell him----

(ARTHUR _appears at the back, as a shadow among the shadows, emerging into the light till he stands near_ GUENEVERE.)

Lynned. He is here.

(LYNNED _glides away as the King appears. He has an exalted, strange, and almost transfigured air._)

Arthur. Guenevere!

Guenevere. Why do you bring me back that ache And the sharp memory of all I thirst To have forgotten? Do you come now to forgive me? Standing apart, to pardon? Only the truth is worthy of what we are. I have wept tears that scald the soul, and yet I do my heart of hearts wrong, if I say That I repent of all.

Arthur. If I were he You knew in other time, if I were he Who had no eyes but for his distant goal, And saw not the things nearest to his heart-- But he is passed.

Guenevere. You speak with a new voice. But I am as the dead who cannot change: Burnt out. I feel not, only see, from far, The unending desolation I have made.

Arthur. I too, I too see, Guenevere. I see Your spirit, and my spirit, and that one Who stands between us; and I see the realm, I dreamed to make one flawless crystal, cracked To fragments; and the loss, the waste. But now I am come, through anguish and against my will, Into a light that shows me what I am, And where I go, and what endures beyond. Were it not for the pain, I had not known. In ignorance we tear each other’s hearts. Know you, Gawaine is gone, dead of his wound?

Guenevere. I know it.

Arthur. Know you, the great heart in him Turned once again to Launcelot at the last? The old love flooded over that dark hate: He knew that Launcelot loved him to the end From the beginning. Guenevere, my light Came then: I knew that Launcelot loved me Not less, but more, because he did me wrong; And I began to understand that love, Which knows not good or evil, but gives all, Because it turns as flowers do to the sun And goes like stream to sea.

Guenevere. I did the wrong. Through me the young have perished, the young men Have fallen in their blood. From me a woe goes welling through the world Like waves in the black night.

Arthur. From me, from me! In the beginning was my fault. I feel The end upon me, like the air of dawn, And see in light that is not of the earth What we have done to each other, and left undone. I in my far dream of that perfect realm, Clouded in cares of policy and state, Saw not what burning soul was at my side, Wanting the love that sees through human eyes And by love understands. I was blind. Now I am borne beyond Time’s wisdom and that fear Which moulds men’s justice. What am I, to speak Pardon or condemnation? I am come To humbleness that cries, “Father, forgive! We know not what we did.” It is I that say, “My Queen, forgive me.” Speak not any word. Your eyes have spoken. Guenevere, I go To battle. Give me your farewell.

Guenevere. To battle! Never an end of battle!

Arthur. Mordred stands, Ready to strike; and men, that I have made From nothing, now are Mordred’s. That name sucks All secret poison to itself. Yonder He waits me. I shall overthrow him--this Is a fight to put my soul in--yet a voice Within my heart assures me that I go To the last of all my battles.

Guenevere. To the last?

Arthur. I feel the wizard sword Excalibur Like an impatient spirit within my hand, As if he heard voices recalling me Out of this ended world. But I am freed; I am forgiven; the dark load is off. Say me farewell, Guenevere.

Guenevere. Now you go Into your mortal peril, and go alone, Maimed of your strong right hand, Of Launcelot, that loved you. Woe on me! The very meanest of your serving men That bears a weapon has the better right Than she who was your Queen to follow you Even with her prayers.

Arthur. Give me your prayers, I ask them. Christ, that loved men and women, comfort you.

Guenevere. God keep my lord. I have no words any more.

Arthur. The day goes to the night, And I to darkness, with my toil undone. Yet something, surely, something shall remain. A seed is sown in Britain, Guenevere; And whether men wait for a hundred years Or for a thousand, they shall find it flower In youth unborn. The young have gone before me, The maid Elaine, Gareth, and Gaheris--hearts Without a price, poured out. But now I know The tender and passionate spirit that burned in them To dare all and endure all, lives and moves, And though the dark comes down upon our waste, Lives ever, like the sun above all storms; This old world shall behold it shine again To prove what splendour men have power to shape From mere mortality. Farewell! That peace Which can remember, and yet hope, because Love makes us greater than we know, come to you, Guenevere!

[_He disappears into the shadows, and the scene closes in._

NINTH SCENE

_Same as Eighth Scene. Early light._ GUENEVERE _is discovered with a young_ NOVICE.

Guenevere. What hour is it?

First Novice. Madam, struck six.

Guenevere. Still rumour, And never the one certain thing. Two hours Since any word came how the battle goes. Yet all night long Have our replenished torches flamed to guide The bearers of the wounded to our gates.

First Novice. Cloister and ante-chapel both are filled; And still they bring them in, dying and dead. Never was seen such slaughter in the world.

Guenevere. Still no news of the King!

(_A pause._)

_Enter_ SECOND NOVICE.

SECOND NOVICE

News, Madam!

Guenevere. Speak.

SECOND NOVICE

There came a rider spurring from the West; His head was badged with blood. He implored speech Passionately, as heavy with his news, Of the Sister Lynned. She has quit the task That keeps her with those wounded ones, and gone To the gate to meet him. He is named, they say, Sir Bedivere.

Guenevere. The King’s friend. He will bring News of the King.

First Novice. Madam, the Sister comes.

_Enter_ LYNNED.

Lynned. Our Reverend Mother Abbess needs more hands To bind those many wounds up. Go to her.

[_The_ NOVICES _go out, leaving_ GUENEVERE _and_ LYNNED _facing each other._

Guenevere. There’s tidings on your face. The King is dead!

Lynned. The King is dead. The flower of Kings is fallen.

(_A pause._)

Lucan is dead, Pelleas and Sagramore, Lamorak, Meliot, Pellenore, Ozanna; That famous fellowship of knights is dust.

Guenevere. Who shall let leap his bright sword in the air? In what cause? There is no cause any more. What tidings brought Sir Bedivere? Tell all.

Lynned. The rebel power is broken, and he that raised it Dead. Woe on us that the King died with him! Upon a field all mounded with the slain, The bloodiest harvest Time did ever reap, He and the traitor Mordred met their last And smote each other, even to the death. From a seashore that seemed the end of earth (So tells Sir Bedivere, like a ghost himself) Men fled into the tumble of the tides And the waves choked them falling; the salt spray Stung them: but “Never saw I fire,” said he, “Of such an indignation fill the King Seeking for Mordred. At the last he spied him Among the heaped dead, leaning on his sword, And cried aloud and smote him; and that traitor, Even as he gasped his bitter soul out, struck On our anointed.”

Guenevere. Arthur, Arthur!

Lynned. Yet Not there he died, though hurt to death: in his arms Sir Bedivere upbore him to a mere Deep in the hills. There the King bade him ride To Amesbury--ride swift and tell the Queen, How, ere he died, he had sent words of love, Of old, long love to Launcelot overseas; With his life’s blood his secret heart gushed out In love for Launcelot and his Queen. With that Sir Bedivere departed; but so loth That soon he came again, and lo! the King Was no more there, but in the place was sound He knew not whether of water or in the air, A music new to mortals, and the smell As of flowers floating through the dark, as if The passing of that spirit sweetened earth. And he remembered how it was foretold That three sad Queens should fetch King Arthur home Across the water of Avalon to his rest.

(_A chant is faintly heard in the distance during this last speech._)

Guenevere. I am the cost. They are fallen, those famous ones Who made this kingdom glorious, they are fallen About their King; they have yielded up their strength And beauty and valour.

(_The convent bell begins to toll._)

The grieving bell begins, As if it were the mouth and voice of Death Emptying the earth of honour and renown. I was the cost of all.

Lynned. Lift up your heart! Out of such pain the immortal part of us Is tempered. The King passes: even now He is ferried over that lamenting mere, And voices from the starred air sing him home. But for us, tarriers in this wounded world, Love, only love, that knows no measure, love That understands all sorrows and all sins, Love that alone changes the hearts of men, And gives to the last heart-beat, only love Suffices. Come we apart and pray awhile For the noble and great spirits passed from us.

(_The chant is heard nearer, and rises louder as the scene closes in darkness. After a pause the gloom melts, gradually revealing a wide distance of moonlit water, over which glides a barge, bearing_ KING ARTHUR, _and the three Queens sorrowing over him, to the island of Avalon._)

Transcriber’s Notes

Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations in hyphenation and accents have been standardised but all other spelling and punctuation remains unchanged.

Italics are represented thus _italic_.