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

THE next record of Aglovale has to tell how he refused in the day of stress to serve Sir Launcelot, whom he worshipped and loved, and turned his hand against him instead. There is little need to set out at any length the splendid and piteous story of how that noble King Arthur, and his great fellowship of the Table Round, were broken and ruined and ended; for he whom I love so much has made it well known. Briefly shall it be touched here, but for the purpose of showing how Aglovale came by his d**h. Came the night of fear when the long dishonour done to Arthur was uncloked with guile and ambush. For years the shameful secret had been but half hid, and ever the buzz about Launcelot and Guenever thickened and grew, and upon the King himself whispers ran loud, with foul titles to one fondly pretending a faithful Queen and a loyal friend. At length his nephews, Agravaine and Mordred, forced upon him unwelcome knowledge, and with his leave made ready to furnish him proof. The breath of disaster was in the night. Aglovale could not sleep, and rose to pace restless as on the dreadful night at Cardigan; yet he knew no cause for his disquiet. The world lay at hush under moonrise. Beneath his eye the roofs of Carlisle sank dim, steeped in mist, half seen; above, the King's palace loomed on its height. Not there did Arthur lie that night, but far away. One spark of light near below shone from the lodging of Sir Launcelot. Obscured and bright again and again it winked. There also one was pacing restless to and fro. Sir Bors, awaiting Sir Launcelot's return from the Queen, in vague disquiet and dread felt the night; and all in arms, summoned they knew not why, knights of his blood waited with him. A prickle of sound came into the slumberous night. Aglovale leaned and strained his ears; it died on the breeze; it returned; unmistakably the sound was of battle. Whence it came he scarce could tell, for the great walls of the palace folded it in. He did on some harness, took his sword, and went out to ease his dread. In the open no sound came down to his level. No sound had reached beyond to Sir Launcelot's lodging, for still the light winked as before. Doubtful he stood till he heard one clatter and stumble down the steep from the palace; and sob and curse; and the sound of a horse. Past at a gallop went a knight, bowed, swaying, blood-stained; the King's son and nephew, Sir Mordred. At that Aglovale pushed on, sure of dire mischief. Broken and breathless with the speed of ascent he came to the precincts of the palace, and dragged along painfully, drawn by the sound of groans. From the Queen's stair he saw one issue laden with a dead man, and cast him down beside others dead and dying. By his stature and stride Aglovale knew him, as wrapping a mantle over his harness, with his sword bare in his hand, he struck down from the bridle-path by a steeper footway. Yea! he came to the slain, and heard dying men cry curses after Launcelot, traitor and adulterer proved. Thirteen knights of the Round Table lay there dead and dying. They had trapped Sir Launcelot unarmed in the Queen's chamber, but take him even so they could not. The foremost of his foes he had let through; he had slain him and taken his harness; he had broken forth against them and had smitten all to d**h, save Mordred fled. Sir Aglovale called out scared servants to carry in the wounded. One was Sir Agravaine, senseless as the dead but still alive. The sons of Gawaine were alive, Sir Florence and Sir Lovel; a third, Sir Gingalin, was dead already. But plainly all were past cure of their bodies. Sir Aglovale sent in all haste to fetch ghostly aid, and right soon holy clerks came; young Clerk Hew came with others; and later came the good suffragan of Carlisle himself, with the blessed Bread, and all save Sir Agravaine were shriven and prepared for their end as Christian men. At length Sir Agravaine came to his senses and spoke; he asked after his brother Mordred, after Sir Launcelot, after his fellows. Mordred fled, Launcelot escaped, the rest all slain, dead or dying; so he heard. "Yea, I know I am slain," said Agravaine; and presently murmured, "Who answers there?" "King Pellinore's son Aglovale." "You!" said Agravaine. The old flame of malice kindled. "As I am a dying man, hear me, Sir Aglovale, how I do repent me on your account." "In the name of God!" said Aglovale. "Hear, Sir Aglovale! That I did not provide you with a larger stone to your neck, and with surer knots, for that I am right sorry." Under his breath Sir Aglovale muttered, "O poor fool!" At his shoulder stood Clerk Hew; from one to the other he glanced, surmising; shocked he knew. He saw the grin of agony and enmity relax in a swoon like d**h, and aghast with pity and horror he feared that the dying man had spent his last words. In the end Sir Agravaine left this world in better case for the next; for when after some hours he returned to consciousness, the good suffragan confessed him well, and brought him to a fitter mind; and as a devout Christian he forgave all his enemies, and received his rights, and died without pain in the arms of his best brother, Sir Gareth. Clerk Hew, for his part, attended the d**h-watch, and prayed very fervently peace to his soul. At Sir Aglovale's lodging a messenger from Sir Bors awaited him, praying him to come forthwith to the lodging of Sir Launcelot. His heart died with doubt and dismay, for he knew what manner of grief and trouble was at hand, but he knew not how to face it. In sore distress of mind he went. A throng of knights he met issuing as he entered: the half of the fellowship of the Round Table, or more; the mightest and noblest of them then alive. Grave and resolute they were to see, and there was little speaking among them. Good Sir Bors greeted him. "Ah, sir, though you be come so late, I was right sure you would come." He excused himself, saying how he had pa**ed the night. "Sir Aglovale," said Bors, "well may you know what trouble is upon us all, since clearly it was by the ordering of King Arthur that Sir Launcelot has been well-nigh trapped and slain by treason, on suspicion with the Queen." "Yea, I have heard." "Sir Launcelot is ready and fain to answer as a knight should; and well would he maintain that he went to the Queen's chamber for no evil purpose, and that she is a true and faithful lady to her lord." "Yea, I deemed Sir Launcelot would answer so." Said Bors, "There is dread among us that King Arthur will not grant him leave so to answer, but will rather condemn to shameful d**h both the Queen and him." "To shameful d**h! Sir Launcelot!" "Now may you declare, Sir Aglovale, whether you love better King Arthur or Sir Launcelot, to hold with the one or the other; for certainly there will come mortal war between them if the King will not abide by the custom he has made." "Alas!" said Aglovale, "you know well that I love Sir Launcelot above the King, and owe to him more than to any man alive." Bors looked at him amazed, for his voice was faint and broken, and his visage grey and drawn. "In good time," said Bors; "here comes Sir Launcelot. Go make your answer to his face." Launcelot came in with his brother Ector. By the set of his face, the play of his eyes, the barrier look, Aglovale understood without doubt what his word of honour would be, and what the worth of it. "Sir Aglovale, how may I look upon you? There now is need to know who do love me well enough to hold with me against King Arthur our lord." Pale and speechless stood Aglovale. Face to face with Launcelot, love and gratitude fought hard on the side of wrong, and his heart clapped and beat, frantic to go free. Launcelot spoke on, saying what he had to say before the world, and under his eyes reddened deep; above all, strangely compelling beyond words, Launcelot under his eyes reddened deep. Launcelot guilty, asking his countenance, his hand, provided the better proof for his love and worship. Launcelot ceased; he had to answer. Husky and scarce audible he said, "Alas! Sir Launcelot, I cannot hold with you." Said Launcelot, "Oh, speak out what you have to say!" "I cannot hold with you. Though none soever that shall name you traitor, and Queen Guenever untrue, can make good his words upon your body, I cannot hold with you." There was a moment of charged silence, and then Launcelot spoke. The set of his face, the play of his eyes, the barrier look were not altered; his accents struck firm and measured. "Sooth, sir, I doubted you." "Nay," cried Bors, "I doubt his meaning, I doubt my ears. Speak right, Sir Aglovale! "Alas! Sir Aglovale, I vouched for you confidently in your absence, as ready and fain and sure. Ah, sir, make good what I said to your worship, for there are but few to speak so for you. All the world would cry shame were you to refuse Sir Launcelot in the hour of stress. Yea, and I also." Said Aglovale, "Yea, I know it." "I tell you men will call to mind how you stood in danger of shameful d**h, and Sir Launcelot then delivered you. Ah, sir, none other has denied him; with one voice a hundred good knights have answered and approved his quarrel, and are pledged to defend him from wrong; yet has he a better claim on you than on any of them." Said Aglovale, "Yea, I know it." "Sir Aglovale, I speak as a friend and your well-wisher; and for your own sake, and for love of Sir Percivale your brother I will speak at large. Sir, neither the might of your body nor the worship of your name were much profit to Sir Launcelot, and yet he is right fain and earnest to have you on his side. As you do know, Sir Launcelot has ever excused you in gentleness, King Arthur never; the one has reached his hand to you, the other has set his foot on you. I warn you that according to your own showing now, shall word go out whether you deserve this or that." Said Aglovale, "Yea, I know, I know." "Enough!" said Launcelot. "Sir Aglovale," said Ector, "may we look to meet you at another time, in another place, in another fashion, to a better purpose." His meaning was plain. All three looked swords upon him: the three most kindly-hearted knights of the fellowship. He held his side with both hands; and as he gazed from one to another damps of anguish came out on his brow and his pallor grew extreme. "I pray not! I cannot answer for myself, should he call me that has the right; yet God knows I had liefer go out of the world." Bors turned away with tears in his eyes. "Wellaway! I have no good will ever to look on you again." Said Ector, "Sir Aglovale, if ever again we meet in place at the Round Table may God and King Arthur so grant we do there if we meet it may be to some purpose: that I ask you whether or no you be a coward. And I warn you take heed to your answer, considering the upshot; for whichever you say, I am ready and fain to maintain the contrary to the uttermost; yea, well and truly, for I am of two minds upon you." Sir Aglovale was white and quivering, yet some semblance of smiling distorted his visage and incensed Sir Ector. "Ah, grinning dog! Show the face of a man lest I bring the blood there quick!" "Peace, peace," said Launcelot. "Leave Sir Aglovale to me." So Sir Ector also turned away, and Sir Launcelot came nearer. Noblest and gentlest of all knights, this was the last he spoke to Aglovale: "Pardon me, Sir Aglovale, that I brought you to this. Sooth, I doubted you well and truly." His eyes were kind and sorrowful, and gave from the deeps as once before. "O most true man! I find no fault with you for your answer. Nor shall any that love me speak more against you. I go not back on what I have said of you: first and last what I have said of you. I fought you up to d**h for your good name: for my good name and my lady the Queen's safety I may go as far or further. Ah, sir, but I doubt heavily now my sword in my hand will work to my unhappiness. Pray sometime for my poor soul." Tears rushed to Aglovale's eyes and blotted dim his last sight of Sir Launcelot's face. He found his hand. Former words of Sir Launcelot rose to his lips: "God have mercy on your soul and keep you body alive." His voice broke, the rest was unspoken. Launcelot turned back to Ector and Bors. "I shall not slay a better man than Sir Aglovale de Galis." "Faith, Sir Launcelot," said Ector, "then you intend large mercies." "Ah, no!" said Launcelot. "I tell you he is the most upright man that ever I met. He heeds not the face of man nor the breath of man. That poor body of his holds a heart strong enough to stand alone against the world." "He has the heart to stand against you, brother! You to whom he owes, such as it is, his shabby life. Yea, to give you to know, brother, that he counts you a traitor and a liar. Yet he has no heart for plain words and deadly. He shirks: he will not answer knightly." Launcelot said over, "Liar and traitor," sharply behind his teeth. "Black names intolerable deserved or undeserved; yet one did avow them to himself and stood to his words right knightly in battle. You were of the first to excuse him then that he might live: by right your excuse should cover him now. And I that fought him then up to d**h, and tempted him to go from his troth, I may not blame him now: I will not; and that I have promised him. And I charge you, as you love me, to forbear him, and to speak no blame on him for my sake." "Be it as you will, Sir Launcelot," said Ector. "Yet for all you say Sir Aglovale goes not by the ways of knighthood." "Alas for knighthood!" sighed Launcelot. Aglovale betook him to his lodging, and all that humming day he stirred no more abroad. Now Sir Tor and now Sir Hermind came in with tidings: Sir Launcelot and all his friends were departed; King Arthur was come, breathing deadly; Queen Guenever was condemned to the fire, on the morrow she should be burnt; the King was requiring all loyal knights to be present at her d**h, to prevent rescue and to take Sir Launcelot; Sir Gawaine had refused him out and out; others had refused or avoided; Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth would be present, but no arms against Sir Launcelot would they bear; King Arthur was calling in his knights one by one to answer as to their allegiance. Sir Tor and Sir Hermind were called. "Brother," said Tor, "speak now. What shall I do?" Little had Aglovale spoken at all; scarcely had he moved. As from hour to hour he waited tidings, his eyes set hard and wide, his hands locked hard against his side, one to the other likened him to a wounded creature that takes covert, and listens while the hunt goes to and fro and draws near. Said Sir Hermind also: "Give me counsel; and I, as you shall counsel me, so will I do." He would give none. "May I question? When King Arthur calls on you, what answer will you make?" "If King Arthur calls on me my God I must speak!" Tor drew his kinsman away. "Let him alone, and beware not to meddle with him when he is white at the lips." At the day's end came the king's summons to Aglovale also. Straightway he rose to go, spread his arms, and fell prone heavily. It was near an hour before he came to himself again. Tor was beside him in great distress; he owned he had searched him and seen for himself. "Ah, peace, and lie still. Fair dear brother, you cannot go. Aglovale, you cannot stand or go." "It is to King Arthur," he said feebly. "I will. Help me this time." He showed he was able to stand and go, for his will was pa**ing strong. Tor came and drew his hand round his neck; and, as under gathering night he lifted him along, a far-off time was big at his heart. Said Aglovale softly, upon the same remembrance, "Ah, good brother, ever so!" It was piercing; tears sprang; he could not speak. Sir Hermind fell in with them, and readily he took the place of a brother beside Aglovale; and he put no question. So, slowly and painfully, in the dark, up the steep went Aglovale at the last summons of Arthur. And all the way Sir Tor could not speak, and his tears ran down, for his heart was loaded with the weight of the panting boy he had carried for knighthood across the level green, sun-bright, battle-bright, at the first summons of Arthur.