Clemence Housman - The Life of Sir Aglovale de Galis - Chapter XIV lyrics

ABOUT the time of evensong on the day of Pentecost, that lady of the thorn blossom, her errand done, rode her way to Nacien again to tell of the new-made knight Sir Galahad. She came upon a knight fallen flatlings beside his horse. That blond mane she had seen before, and those arms; and when she uncovered the knight's face she knew him again. No hurt upon him could she find, and he was warm; his eyes were shut, and his breathing slow as in sleep; but rouse him she could not. So she waited beside him, marvelling over his state. At length tears came from his shut eyes; he sighed the name of Percivale; he woke, and lifting got to his knees. Still he seemed entranced and unaware, as when she had left him upon Wenlock Edge; and when she spoke to him by name, he turned a vacant stare and answered astray. "Yea, I know it; he has seen! Percivale my brother has seen the Holy Grail!" He missed the fragrance of wild thyme, and the little patch of dim blue, and came to himself, and knew where he was. "Sir Aglovale, what evil has befallen you?" "Madam, no evil," he stammered. "How came you here on the road to Camelot? Few days ago, uncourteous knight, you refused to come at my request, when I sent you a right fair token." He spoke still astray. "O happy lady! speak again of my brother." "O unhappy knight! I speak you reproach, for cause that you sit not at the Table Round on this day of days, when every siege should be filled, and the fellowship perfect. For the best knight of the world is made and known, and to-day he sits in the Siege Perilous that has never been filled; and Sir Percivale, your brother, sits beside him at his right hand." She stopped, for she saw that his spirit was caught away, shadowed and enrapt. "Christ keep us all," she whispered with crossings, in some misgiving as to his right wits. Then, with woman's sense, she began speaking soft and fair in praise of Sir Percivale until he heard. "When young Sir Galahad broke spears," she said, "there were but two he did not overthrow: one was Sir Launcelot, and one was Sir Percivale. "Now, sir, to tell you all fairly, your brother grieved greatly to hear of your condition; for, Sir Aglovale, I could not report well of you, as knightly or courteous of behaviour, when he questioned me hard. Also I would have you to know that I offered him hope, proved vain, alas! that with Sir Brastias you might follow soon; and then he was glad, and your brother Sir Tor also." Not till she made to go did Sir Aglovale mend his behaviour, thanking her meekly and largely for her goodness to one, graceless and unhappy, who had rejected her goodwill without excuse. That courteous lady went to a thicket and plucked again blossoming thorn for him to wear, and lightly then she set on her way to Nacien the Hermit. Early on the morrow, as Aglovale sighted the towers of Camelot, a hooded traveller came by, who halted amazed, and saluted him by name. "In the name of God!" said Sir Brastias, "can you be here, Sir Aglovale?" "Sir, no question, but here I am." "Nay; but were you not at Camelot, at the supper, at the Holy Visitation?" "Fair sir, let me hear whatever you know, if you be come from Camelot, for I was not so blest as to be there." So Sir Brastias told him all that had befallen, as my most dear Master tells. "Yet one says that he saw you there; and he is your brother, Sir Percivale." Aglovale answered naught. His spirit was caught away, shadowed and enrapt, so that Sir Brastias marvelled to see him. Afterward he questioned his word more closely. "On the faith of my body," said Sir Aglovale, low, "I was elsewhere." "Hear now of the matter," said Sir Brastias, "and rede it how you may. "So soon as I came to Camelot, and had said my errand from Nacien the Hermit, your brother Sir Percivale came to me troubled, and asked for you, why you hid from him. I told him what I knew of you; but that he had heard already from a lady. He said you were come to Camelot, for that he had seen you in your place at the board, the last to be there. When I said you were not come with me, he departed hastily on search. "Then came others, Sir Tor and Sir Hermind, to question; howbeit they had not seen you in your place; and the point was in debate, whether or no your siege were void indeed throughout the supper. Sir Aglovale, I am loth to repeat all that touches you; all that I heard by Sir Percivale and others." "All, sir, all. I do require it all." "There was debate on a word King Arthur had spoken, when all sat at the board. In a manner he seemed to approve your absence. Sir, I am sorry to hurt your ears." "Speak out, sir. I will hear all." "Said King Arthur: that day his noble fellowship of knights was as complete as he would have it. Thereupon, your siege being then void as all could see, some undertalk ran as to whether the King spoke on oversight, or with purpose upon your absence. I do rather hold that he spoke but as to the filling of the Siege Perilous and the presence of Sir Galahad." "Did my fellows so hold?" "Alas! Sir Aglovale, many spoke of cause why he denied you." "Did my brother, Sir Percivale, so hold?" "Alas, alas!" said Brastias, "he too acknowledged there was cause, and he grieved greatly. "It was within St. Stephen's Minster that I found Sir Percivale again: by his weeping I found him in the dark. I tell you it was pity to find him so whelmed, when others were all uplifted and rejoicing. "Hear what your brother told! His day was turned to night in the King's hall for your sake, and the King's meats were soured, and choked him that he could not eat. So as he sat, on a sudden the thunder of miracle broke, the great hall shuddered and reeled like a barge at sea, the beam of the high Mystery shone over all. Men looked upon one another, but none could speak nor move. Then it was, in the great stillness that held before the Holy Grail entered, that Sir Percivale saw you in your place. Eye to eye, he said, he saw you there, regarding him earnestly without a sign. 'And then,' said he, 'all at once I was blinded with sharp tears, and I could not see. And then,' said he, 'I felt the presence of the Holy Grail, and I breathed that sweetness beyond compare; but I could not see, save a glimmer pa**ing by, so blind was I with tears. Then rose my fellows, and I rose, and vowed my vow with them. And then remembering I turned to look, and lo! one had not risen, but leaned down prone to the board; and that was my brother, Sir Aglovale. But before I could make to him through the press, he avoided his place and privily was gone.'" Here Sir Brastias paused, but Aglovale stood without a sign and did not speak. "As for your fellows nearest you in place, none had seen you enter or depart; howbeit they doubted to say you were not there at all. But certainly none but Sir Percivale had seen you clearly in the visage, and none had exchanged with you word of salutation. In the name of God, Sir Aglovale, what is this mystery?" He answered, low as before, with the same words, "On the faith of my body, I know not." Furthermore Sir Brastias told him how Sir Percivale was in great tribulation and perplexity, and how in St. Stephen's he kneeled down and prayed on high. "Ah, Lord Jesus, take Thou my heart! Thou who hast called me to for sake my brother to follow Thee, be to him pitiful and kind, that he may know Thee sure above all brothers, forsaking never." "Yea, amen," said Aglovale. "Enough for me only to see him in the body once again." "As at this time, Sir Aglovale, I think you over late. At daybreak I set out when all was grey with the river mist; and as I climbed to higher air, I looked back, and saw the towers of Camelot afloat against the east; and there up the hill over against me rode as it were a morning star out of the mist. Methinks it was Sir Percivale, the first away on the Holy Quest." Camelot was all at hush as Aglovale rode in. He came into the Minster of St. Stephen, and stood among his fellows. When he got his eyesight the first he saw was young Galahad. Without telling he knew him, by pa**ionate envy he knew him, for there he saw praying a fairer soul than Percivale. The King's stall was in gloom; for the lights were out that for many years had burned day and night upon the tomb of Lot of Orkney. Twelve tapers had Merlin set there, when he fashioned that tomb at Arthur's command: upheld by images of kings vanquished, they lighted up an image of King Arthur triumphant. So above the tomb of Lot his wordly power stood figured, whereas close beside had Merlin made ready another tomb, wherein Arthur himself should lie; and he foretold how these lights should fail before the coming of the adventures of the Holy Grail, as now had come to pa**. Presently, when the service was over, the King made all who had taken the Quest to be called and enrolled. First was the name of Sir Percivale set down, as already departed, foremost in devotion to his vow. Then one by one past the King's stall went his knights, and the tale was made of one hundred nine and forty. Said Arthur, "Who avouched Sir Percivale departed? Yonder I espy him kneeling. That is the crest of Galis under the colours of Pentecost." Then rose the last and went forward with uneven tread; and the King's countenance changed as he saw this was Sir Aglovale, for plainly he was not glad to see him. "How now, Sir Aglovale," he said very grave, "are you here indeed!" "Yea, my lord, even I." "Whence is this your coming?" "Sir, from the dead again, to take up this Quest." King Arthur paused and considered him hard. Truly never had he seen man alive carry more dead a visage. "This is a high matter, Sir Aglovale, and I think you have no call to take it." "Sir, I have vowed to God to take it, and here would record my vows." "Your vows are too light to record. I know not how to countenance this, for your credit is gone." Hereupon the King called up for counsel the Archbishop of Canterbury, and Sir Launcelot, and put question: should Sir Aglovale be counted and enrolled with his fellows; he, a knight foresworn, who had wantonly and insolently abandoned his last quest, and had taken no pains since to cover his default as a knight should. Beneath the eyes of Launcelot he reddened painfully and took his breath hard. King Arthur's strictures were not unduly harsh, he knew; in respect of Launcelot his default was so flagrant and particular, that well might he who had given him back his life begrudge the gift. The Archbishop said aye. He cited, for instance, how our Lord at His supper, on the night He was betrayed, gave the blessed Bread and the Cup to all the twelve, not withholding from him who had a devil, and the price of betrayal in his hand. Sir Launcelot said aye. There was no severity in his grave, considerate regard, there was no commiseration; there was in it some meaning strange and unresolved, that touched and went like a lost dream. In times to come that look was to meet Sir Aglovale again and again, giving him wonder anew till the day when Sir Launcelot let out of his heart three words to his amazement. Launcelot spoke low. Many, he said, who went unquestioned, were not more worthy than Sir Aglovale to take part in this Quest; unrebuked of man indeed, but with the rebuke of God against them; and that should be proved, and name and fame come to poor account, as Brastias the Hermit had come to warn them. "Alas! Sir Launcelot," said Arthur, "I would this Quest was undone. It is too great and high. And sooth not Sir Aglovale only would I keep from it, but the most of ye all, my noble knights, saving for your heavy vows. "But for you, Sir Aglovale, how came you to these vows?" "I vowed," he stammered. "Even as my fellows have vowed, so have I." "Came you in at my doors like a thief and away? That has been said of you." "No, on the faith of my body, no. I come straight from afar." "Your brother, Sir Percivale, avouches that he saw you yesterday at the supper." "Howbeit, my lord, I was elsewhere and far." "Do you, then, presume to take these vows without occasion? You have not seen that your fellows saw." He pressed for an answer. "Sir, I do believe that I also have seen a part of that my fellows saw." "Say you so! When?" "At that time the Holy Grail appeared unto you all." "Your words match not one with another. What is the truth?" Aglovale faltered and stammered. "I cannot tell I have yet to learn." "I charge you, on your allegiance, lay all before me without more question." Already King Arthur suspected falseness, for Sir Aglovale had not answered him readily throughout; and now plainly he spoke with an effort. "Sir, verily I know not what is the truth. Judge you. As I rode hither either I slept or swooned. The time was last sundown as I heard thunder. Clearly, as I see you now, meseemed I saw the face of my brother, Sir Percivale. He looked at me; he wept. Then against him dawned a light so great that his face faded as the moon fades at sunrise; and I dared not look; I knew, and I dared not look to see the Holy Grail. On this wise I vowed to God, to go and abide in the Quest, to see and to worship, and not to hide my eyes for any dread." "This is strange telling," said the King, staggered. "What confirmation to this tale can you offer? I require all so much." The hue of truth that rose at his doubt had to Arthur's eyes another reading. "As to time and place," said Aglovale, "there was witness in the lady who returned from hence to Nacien the Hermit. She found me as I was; she heard me speak; she bound me to wear this token that now I carry." "Well!" said Arthur. "Now answer further; has any man taken you report of the supper, and of the Holy Marvel, and namely of your brother Sir Percivale beholding you, as he thought?" "Yea, Sir Brastias the Hermit met me this day and told me all." "Did you offer him aught of the tale that you offer here?" "Naught." "And wherefore naught?" The King's drift was clear enough: he held the truth to be no better than an impudent imposture to win place and credit. "God's pity!" said Launcelot, low, and turned away from seeing a fellow-man writhe and choke past control. "Wherefore naught?" said Arthur. "My lord, he had no force to strip me to the soul!" "I think you expose yourself." "No, my lord! At your will and pleasure I expose naked truth to shame." "Well, well!" said Arthur. Then he considered the matter awhile in silence; a great while it seemed to Sir Aglovale, who stood in suspense to hear if the King would tell him more plainly that he held him a liar. But the King would not say so. He would not rule, he said, save in temporal matters; and since a churchman held Sir Aglovale entitled to be enrolled, he should not oppose. Aglovale issued from St. Stephen's so blind and deaf, he was for pa**ing his brother Sir Tor. And he would say little. "Yea, Sir Tor, I go on this Quest. King Arthur flays me, and lets me go. Keep from me; for kindness only keep off." He would not answer upon question of the supper and Percivale's word for him there; that dear and close communion of spirit, with the reflection of heavenly grace, the mystery King Arthur had desecrated and despised on suspicion, he would not again declare, even to his brother Tor. Tor took counsel with Sir Hermind and Sir Griflet, who were friendly and sure. "He is more obstinate in silence than ever before; but now he is not stark at all, but broken. Alas! I think him cowed. I know not how the King has dealt; he came away cowed to silence. Sirs, you who know him well, consider that!" "Alas!" said Griflet, "once he was the bravest man that ever I saw fail; yet so curst!" "Now I would he could show his curst temper. That is douted quite. You never did know it as I, most hot and intolerable it was but as a smoulder you both have known it. Now it is out, as we may see by his face. For common kindness he thanked me, as it were with blessing. Of old he would offer me thanking as he would break my teeth." Said Sir Hermind, "I knew his way with a difference; the same, contrary: round knocks bestowed as they were favours, good service repaid by hard usage; all, as it were, for gratification. I pretend no love to him, yet no man have I met whose approval I could more prize. In head and heart he was so just and hard. And, sirs, with all his tarnish he took no rust." "Alas!" said Sir Tor, "he may come to rust, being broken as I deem." So, at the departition of the followers of the Quest, these three good and gentle knights, out of kindness and compa**ion, drew to fellowship with Sir Aglovale, and held together as long as they might with faith to their vows. Truly as Sir Tor said, they found him broken; his curst temper was out of him; he was open to kindness. And presently the goodness of God Almighty, in the fair and pleasant world, in the sun and the rain and all that grows, in the eyes of kindly men, lifted his heart out of the dust, and he was meetly thankful for all these mercies. And before long he heard tidings of Sir Percivale. Then he ordered his goings in such wise that Sir Tor took note and was troubled. "Bethink you, brother, we are upon the Quest of the Grail, and nathless you do ensue after Sir Percivale." "As for me," said Aglovale, "that is all one." "Is this honest dealing?" "Ah, Tor, as for you all, I have marvel however ye should abide with me, and be on the Holy Quest in singleness of heart." Then Tor considered well, and spoke again strongly, and at last departed from his brother. Sir Hermind also scrupled and went. But Sir Griflet troubled not; considering the way of kindness as good as any to go in, he continued with Sir Aglovale. And together they rode four days without tidings, till hard by a Priory place they met with Sir Gawaine in his peaceable hour of afternoon. A Queen recluse from her cell near by looked out upon them. Sir Gawaine at first mistook Sir Aglovale for his brother, till he answered for himself; and then Gawaine in a manner smoothly blamed his eyesight; for it was his custom to deliver his mind with a cover of courtesy to Sir Aglovale; not as Agravaine and Mordred, openly despiteful; not as Gaheris, who never spoke, and ignored him utterly. All this the recluse understood well enough as she watched. Sir Aglovale hove still and held quiet, while Gawaine and Griflet discoursed of tidings and adventure; for Gawaine had come lately from the Castle of Maidens, where he had followed up Sir Galahad; and he had slain those whom Galahad had overcome and left alive, as the grace of God was with his sword. When Sir Gawaine had made an end of his tale and was departed, the recluse clapped and signed and brought those two to her sill. She offered tidings of Sir Percivale. Herself had seen at that place the best knight of the world encounter with Sir Launcelot and Sir Percivale. Both he overthrew. With the spear he smote down Sir Launcelot, horse and man; with the sword, at one stroke, he smote Sir Percivale from the saddle. Then she looked upon Sir Aglovale, and chid him for his sombre cheer, saying that jealousy even on behalf of a brother was maugre and orgule and not a right spirit. "Madam, who are you that know me?" "Sooth, I should know you, for I am none other than your father's sister, once Queen of the Waste Lands." With that she put back her hood a little, and he knew her and marvelled to see her so, remembering her radiant day, and haughty, untamable temper. But that was years ago, before the d**h of her only son Nanowne le Petit, that Nabon le Noire slew horribly, drawing him limb-meal out of despite to King Arthur. She entered then upon good discourse, showing how she had changed her life; and she spoke of his mother's d**h, and of how his sister Saint had taken vows. But she would not at that hour tell him the way Sir Percivale had gone, for that way she knew had Gawaine gone also, in the track of Galahad. Then she commended them to the Priory adjoining for their lodging. So she was in the daytime, changed and meek; but in the night time her old self fetched her up from her pallet, and drove her to and fro the narrow space like a caged creature, till she was spent and giddy. "How long, O Lord, how long!" she cried, as she laid her chin against the sill, and stared at the misty lights of heaven. Ghostly and large came a vision of King Pellinore before her, floated upon mist. Nay, but his son, Aglovale. So strong and absolute had been the gust of illusion that still she thrilled and shuddered, and the force of sisterhood put away the votary from her. She fell to weeping, and cried to Sir Aglovale, why came he there? "Madam, I walk but according to custom, as I would better patience under the night of heaven." She cried out against patience; she cried for vengeance that was justice; she poured out accusation and grief; Pellinore dead, Lamorak dead, Durnor dead, all unavenged. She rehearsed iniquities that flourished; the sins of Arthur, of his sister, of his sister's sons; and the loyal service of Pellinore, repayed on him and his sons by abandonment, and murder condoned. That truth was one-sided indeed, and monstrous, and distorted by her pa**ion; but it was main truth. "Ah, madam, ah, madam!" cried Aglovale, and drew to her, pressing close to the grill. She caught his hand through, and clung hard, and held it with her own against her heaving heart. The contact of warm human sympathy, whether for good or ill, was blinding sweet and dear; they were at one, one mind, one blood. He heard her uttering her heart boldly before heaven; lo! she uttered all that in his own heart he had striven to stifle and still as the mutter and argue of a constant demon; bitterness, resentment, revolt, hatred, vengeance, freely and confidently she uttered; and she justified all. She left the dead and held to the living man. She addressed him without pity or excuse, from his own heart telling him to his own ears and even as he was, she cried out against Arthur, because this was King Pellinore's son, neglected, and abandoned alive to the despite of the sons of Lot. "Madam, forbear, forbear!" cried Aglovale. "My father worshipped King Arthur, and my brothers dead worshipped him, and so do my brothers alive, and so do I, for he is my lord and king, who made me knight. And, madam, he has judged me for his worship with no injustice that he knows, but as he has seen me." She cried, "But he has spared to judge his own blood; he has shut his eyes, he has shut his ears, yea, even as he shuts his eyes and ears while Sir Launcelot beds with his Queen." Aglovale pulled back his hand and stood away. Then she changed and spoke soft. She said she would turn to patience. Gawaine and his brethren had been patient; ten years they awaited to avenge a fair stroke of battle by murder; threefold had they avenged it, and evermore. And sooth, she said, Sir Aglovale showed he could be patient as they were; she had seen him that day, face to face with the murderer of his father, meek as a maid and stomaching mock civility. "Oh, ease your heart, madam!" said Aglovale, and cursed low on the name of Gawaine. "Yea, I would do so," she said. "But come near!" He came wondering, for there was a strange catch and fall in her voice. She spoke low. She knew a tree, she said, that grew fair red fruit; there over his head it spread boughs, though fruit was now green. She likened it to the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Put case Sir Gawaine or his brothers tasted thereof, they should know sure enough that murder was not good, but evil; sure as d**h they would know it. Her patience, and his, might well endure till the green were red. "Then I will do my part," she said, "so you will but do yours." "Madam, I would only do the part of a knight." She laughed out lamentably. Would he so do? she said. Unhappily, before his father's d**h, he had agreed with Sir Gaheris to his shame; whence forward those four brethren openly refused to have knightly ado with him. Said Aglovale, "Learn how one of these behaved him: my most enemy, Sir Gaheris. He trapped Sir Lamorak with Queen Morgause, and he slew his own mother there and then; but he let Sir Lamorak go at that time untouched, because he was unarmed and weaponless; with all his savagery he would not so basely destroy a knightly foe as he were vermin." She told him that fair knighthood in him would not bring him to fair favour with King Arthur, for Gawaine and Gaheris were close to his heart to turn it against him. Much more she said to goad him on to her purpose; and still underhand practice he utterly condemned, and refused her. She sent him away deploring at last that King Pellinore's son was poor of heart, not fit and fain to avenge his blood. So he went from her, not bettered in patience for that night walk. Gainsaying notwithstanding, he left her pa**ing fain and fierce in his heart. And he left Sir Griflet, and rode solitary many a day in evil case, with little relief till he came to a white abbey, and there within to the tomb of Nacien the Hermit. There his heat was allayed, and died low with weeping. In after days that Queen recluse set on another kinsman, Sir Pinel le Savage, to compa** vengeance underhand. He whom I love so much has written that tale: how he purveyed empoisoned apples for Gawaine to eat; but another, a good knight of the Round Table, Sir Patrise of Ireland, took and ate first and died suddenly. Also how Queen Guenever was suspected and appealed of that treason, how Sir Launcelot fought and delivered her clear of the charge, and how in the end the truth was made known by the Lady of the Lake, Nimue. But some years later the Queen of the Waste Lands was satisfied, and thanked God that she had lived to see the day of King Arthur's desolation, when all the sons of Lot were slain. And when Sir Bedevere carried the King wounded from the last battle, came she with the two wicked Queens who hated him, the Queen of North Galis, and his sister, Queen Morgan le Fay; and they three took keep of King Arthur to ensure that he should die and not live on by enchantment. Came Nimue from the Lake in vain, for she could not prevail to deliver him. So he died, and they buried him.