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

ALREADY the mount was crowned with a glittering circlet of knights, stationed at watch against all quarters. As yet no threat appeared. The countryside, smiling quiet and secretive through the shifting vapours, preserved suspense. For Carlisle that day was no blithe hour of morning vigour; no peaceful folk trod out and in. Behind the guarded gates the citizens seethed up to walls and housetops, to see the fairest of women brought out and burnt for her misdeeds. She comes, and Launcelot does not come. Like a Queen she came, with a great plump of spears before her and after her; and her ladies were there attendant, as when she went to church; and her damsels, bearing missal and cushion, pomander and mirror. They were lamenting aloud, but she made no moan. With unaltered dignity treading the way to shameful d**h; with sad, wan beauty, drawn brows and distracted gaze, the splendid piteous creature commanded admiration and compa**ion, maugre all her guilt. To the mount she comes and stands, and Launcelot does not come. Many beside unhappy Guenever turned about then and looked out over the silver swathes of the lowland, where gleamed no promise of help: nothing more urgent stirred than wild-fowl, mewing and honking and winging up black from the water-beds. Then was the Queen made ready for the fire. Disrobed, ungirt, the tiar lifted away, gown and kirtle taken off, she stood clad only in her last garment, and the fair gold stole of her own hair pendant to the knee. Then she kissed five of her weeping ladies, and gently she dismissed all from further service. Then she summoned ghostly aid, and kneeling down on a cushion was shriven by a holy man. It shocked the heart to see as she kneeled there, so thin-clad in the morning air, how slight shivers of cold took that poor body that was going straight into fire. Men were seen weeping then. Gaheris and Gareth wept, and many others, unwilling witnesses with them; and doubtless behind steel bars many eyes were half-blind just then. Here is Guenever brought to the stake, and where is Launcelot? Up into air went a falcon with gilded jesses that took the sun as they trailed. She lifted her face to the skies. Her brows smoothed; like a saint near her peace, calm and confidence transformed her countenance; lightly she set foot on the stack of beach and pine, and stood high by the stake against the sky. Ha havoc! the wild-fowl are all stilled. Clink and clang take the ear; away in the hollows sparks of light take the eye broadening, dancing; riding the mist crests of knights unveil, fronts of horses, a mat of spears; out of the mist, reft by the wind of speed, without trump, without call, with lightning to the air, with thunder to the sod; with a weft of rainbow from thick spinning dew, come the grandest fighters in the world; comes Launcelot. Down went the spears upon the mount. Grim and sober Arthur's knights formed out to battle-front, and wisely and orderly waited to take full advantage of their ground. "Are you mad, Sir Aglovale?" cried Griflet, then. "Keep back and forbear the spears, as you bear none." He spoke in vain. Soon as the slope told against the onrush, down charged the opposing ranks, and down with the rest charged Sir Aglovale. "He is mad! he is mad!" cried Gaheris, in a frenzy above. "Ah, God keep Sir Aglovale for me this day!" Fleet-foot he ran and sprang like a roe, and reached a jetty of broom to espy nearer. After him came Gareth. At mid ascent broke the shock of spears, crackle of wood loud as the rattle of mail. The downpress had the advantage: near a third of Launcelot's party were cast from the saddle, or horse and man went down together. Launcelot and his brethren bore through the first rank. There fell Sir Hermind: smitten by Launcelot clean through the body he dropped dead. There fell Sir Aglovale. Sir Bors thrust him down, and he lay stunned. Sir Gaheris spied that, and wrung his hands. Now the battle was with swords; horsed and unhorsed fought in confusion; the scream of horses rose, for knights afoot stabbed ruthless to revenge their disadvantage. On Sir Aglovale, as he rose, down rolled a slaughtered beast. Sir Gareth beheld his brother suddenly start from his cover and reckless speed into the fray. Without thought he followed. Between them they released Sir Aglovale from the weight that was k**ing him, and got him up to an empty saddle. He blessed them unaware without recognition, while Gaheris for his part cursed him heartily. Where the battle raged on higher ground he rode hastily, and the two brothers followed perforce ; hemmed in on either side, the press carried them along. Close below the brow a knot on horseback lashed together furiously; for here was Launcelot, strong as a wild boar tossing hounds. Then fell Sir Griflet, gashed deadly deep. Aglovale saw him fall as he spurred past to take the ground above. Alas! this horse that was under him was Sir Tor's. Swift and terrible were the strokes of Launcelot. Two strokes, two deadly, unhappy strokes he dealt, and knew not what he did. One Gaheris saw, and shrieked as his brother Gareth, smitten through the brows, fell back dead into his arms; the next he saw not: with hardly a moan he also dropped out of life. Gallant knights both were they, though one was savage and a murderer, and had slain his mother; they were pleasant and witty to hear, and very goodly to see in visage and stature; they were staunch-minded, for Gareth never forgot kindness, and Gaheris never forgot injury; they were courteous to all ladies, and loyal lovers of their two fair wives, Linet and Liones; they worshipped Launcelot, and loved him pa**ing well, and namely Sir Gareth; and Launcelot loved them again, and namely Sir Gareth, pa**ing well. Launcelot pa**ed on unaware; but behind him the eddy of battle paused, and knights of both parties stayed their strokes, and looked, the shriek of Gaheris at their hearts, on those two brained dead. "Alas!" said young Lavaine, "alas! Sir Launcelot. Though God Almighty forgive this, he will never forgive himself, nor neither will Sir Gawaine." By this Sir Launcelot had all but won the ascent. Last to oppose him hurled a knight who had slung aside his shield to grip his sword by both hands. Recklessly exposed he swung up for the stroke, with the weight of a plunge he swung down: his blade met Launcelot's and broke. He laughed out like a madman, and flung away the shard. Their horses were staggering at impact when quick Launcelot struck again; but the other dipped, swerved close in under the blow, and leaning from the saddle clapped both arms upon Launcelot: his right caught him about the girdle, his left took him beneath the chin. It was the trick of Sir Turquine that had unseated many a strong knight. In vain he heaved with all his strength; Launcelot swayed a little, recovered, but could not shake him off, and could not strike. He drew back his arm, felt with the sword-point for the unjointed spot below the armpit, and drove in the blade deep. With a groan Aglovale slid down and dropped to die. He had got his d**h from Launcelot. Queen Guenever's smock is stained with blood as Launcelot lifts her away from the stake, and she laughs for joy that it is not his. Up from the finished battle came others: came Ector, Bors, Blamore, Bleoberis, Lavaine, Palamides; and again the mount was crowned with a glittering circlet, while away to Carlisle streamed tidings of defeat to Arthur, while Guenever kneeled devoutly to thank Heaven for her deliverence, while she was clad hastily and set upon horse behind Launcelot. Then straight all fell bare. Down past the slope of blood the slayers rode, and fast away across the shining land, by east to Eden river, and by north to Joyous Gard. d**h made no haste with Sir Aglovale; he had yet an hour to live. The first he knew beyond pain when he lifted and sat, was the pleasant smell of bruised thyme, and there beneath his hand a little patch of dim blue. It rooted far away on Wenlock Edge. He shifted a little lest it should be stained, and against his left side shut tight his arm to keep in red life. Along Wenlock Edge came Nacien, saying, 'God has been gracious, O my son.' And he perverse, 'I will not go!' He lost his way. Next he knew that above him stack and stake stood up to view solitary, and the world was very quiet, albeit the groans of wounded men came from below. Clear and small swam the falling-in of knells. Clear and small and far away on rising ground moved points of light in a soft glitter. God keep you, Sir Launcelot, body alive to a better life. The world smiled fair as the sun drew up the dews. He lost his way again. d**h made no haste with Sir Tor. He shifted, and moved, and crept along to dead and dying. Sir Hermind dead, Sir Perimones dead, Sir Kay L'Estrange dead. Sir Sagwarides dying. Oh, mercy! Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth both dead. The elder still clasped his brother. Beside the armed dead, those two, unarmed, represented a piteous mischance. Sir Sagwarides had seen, and he told how it was done. One heard, stood up on his feet staggering, came and looked. "Sir Griflet! God be thanked, you live." "Alas! I am but slain." "And I," said Tor. "Where is Sir Aglovale?" "I know not; only I am sure he has not fled." Together they went on further search, till higher beyond the rest they found him. They knew he was near his end, because he sat so still. His head was erect and rigid, his right hand was idling to and fro softly upon the turf; his harness was unbroken, and but little blood showed upon it, yet they knew without a word that he was near his end. Sir Griflet went forward and dropped with a groan at his side. He turned his head, and crept out his right hand to him, but did not stir otherwise. After came Tor as fast as he could drag, and kneeling he put his great hands lightly upon Aglovale. "Fair dear brother," he sobbed, "I shall die the better by you." At that Aglovale lifted a look, and rested his wondering spirit with a giving of love and worship to his faithful brother. "God Almighty bless." Blood rose to his lips when he spoke, and pain took him hard upon d**h when he lifted a hand. They eased him of his helm, and propped him; and they saw well he was nearer his end than either of them, though their wounds gaped, and his they had not seen. Griflet was hewn deep at the shoulder, and Tor at the belt. Aglovale's mortal wound let out only a thread of blood, that ran continuously, dark and warm, blurring his harness like breath. There below good Christian folk were coming to take up dead and wounded, and to ease the dying, body and soul. Sir Griflet lifted a prayer that they might not die till ghostly comfort came, so they might receive their Saviour before they pa**ed over to d**h and judgment. Namely he prayed for Sir Aglovale, for he thought him almost gone: without breath he seemed, and his eyes were fixed far off. Far off he had lost his way. He saw an elder-tree and sodden ground and driving rain: then said Brose, 'Kiss of peace,' and died unhouselled. Lo! a rainbow arching up into clear sky. The words of Gaheris drifted him back into time present: 'If God can be so greatly merciful as you.' Wonder was set afresh upon his face. "O Maker of man," he breathed in worshipping appeal. He looked upon Griflet and Tor, and seeing their pains were greater than his own, forbore request. But straightway Tor bent to him. "Brother, what would you have of me?" He whispered faintly, "Sir Gaheris. Could he know he would come to me now." They were dumb-struck, and looked at each other, awed and marvelling. Then said Griflet, "Alas! Sir Aglovale, you may go to him, but he cannot come to you. Sir Gaheris is dead." For a moment he did not stir; then he lifted a sigh and said aloud, "God rest his soul." At that a rush of blood choked him. Even to men who were dying it was fearful to see then how he set himself to preserve the tag of life in his body; he might not speak out, he might not lift a hand; pa**ively with all his will he withstood the thrusts for release, and held possession. Presently Tor, in answer to a sign, told over what he had seen, and what he had heard, of the d**h of that brave pair. "Beyond the gorse there they lie together. How they came in the thick of battle pa**es knowing; but myself I saw Sir Gaheris: hastily he came and took away my horse when I was down." Then Aglovale knew, and they saw he knew, and held still to hear his whisper. "For me; he came in to deliver me; brought me your horse; he and Sir Gareth I saw, not seeing now I see." Amazed beyond words, Tor and Griflet waited, and in vain, to learn the secret of this devoted enemy. They did but hear a faint whisper that ran, "Eh, Sir Gaheris, Sir Gaheris, it is all one!" Said Tor, "And I meant to k** him except he sued to live through Sir Aglovale." Said Griflet, "And I meant to k** him without question." Aglovale only shook his head and very faintly smiled. And they saw that God had taken the ending and the mending of the matter into His own hands, and that the solving of the matter would not be till Doomsday. Then ensued silence. The isolation of d**h pressed hard between them, and the separate anguish of the flesh cloked each one in himself. Tor drew the nearer, and kept his hand on his brother as other dear affections cried his heart away from him. Before long charitable aid reached that high-tide mark of blood. The first that came was a nimble young squire, bearing a helmet full of clear water. Tor drank, and Griflet drank; Aglovale tried to drink but could not; the sip he swallowed he lost with more blood; almost he lost his life then and there. Far gone he stayed his thirst on a night moonstruck and dewy, when out of shadows Divine approval came upon him once. He had lost his way again and wandered. 'This I cannot abide,' said Gaheris, and plucked him from dear contrition hastily to d**h. 'Ah, friend,' said Gaheris, 'I am sorry. I knew not how hard I used you.' 'You have poisoned me to d**h,' said Gaheris, 'in the body of my Saviour.' 'I think Hell will be an empty hole,' said Gaheris. He drank at wonder, and could not retain it, and was thirsting still. Tor was bathing his face with water. "Stay with us, Sir Aglovale," said Griflet, "for comfort is at hand. So presently may we three together be a**oiled of our sins, and houselled freshly to our end." The serviceable young man had done what he could to ease them, and now was gone to the suffragan of Carlisle, whom bearing the Host they saw, coming to bless the dying on the battle-ground. Then he sent forward one of his company, and himself followed by degrees as fast as he was able, for others there were to be satisfied by the way. The next that came was nimble and young, even Clerk Hew. Sorrow of heart was his and dread to see whom he was required to shrive for d**h; but the grace of holy orders exalted his spirit above the natural man, and he used no words but to do his ghostly service. Sir Griflet and Sir Tor in turn kneeled, confessed, and were shriven clean; and then Clerk Hew came and kneeled by Sir Aglovale and leaned close to hear. That confession was the shortest, but it took more time than both of theirs. Faintly he whispered, "I have sinned." Then came silence, and again after each particular came silence. "Pride Presumption Arrogance Cowardice Railing Hardness of heart Unbelief. God knows I am sorry." With that came such a rush of blood that quickly Clerk Hew blessed him to God, deeming the end had come. The spasm pa**ed, and presently Tor said, "He would say more to us. Take you his words for us." So Clerk Hew leaned down again, and repeated the disjointed whisper as it came. "One of you for charity when I am dead dig out of me some morsel of my heart and let Sir Gaheris have it for peace in the grave." Sir Griflet was the first to make answer. He said huskily, "Sir, so help me God that my life endure, I will serve you faithfully for this." Clerk Hew was pale and shaking as he answered next, "Sir, I will not fail to further your desire. So help me God." But Tor moaned pitifully, "Ah, fair dear brother, I cannot. Too jealous dear to me is this your body. Content you that I will not hinder." Now came towards them the aged suffragan of Carlisle as fast as he could go with reverence to That he carried in his hands. When he came to a stand Tor and Griflet shifted to kneel, but Aglovale might not stir; he could but lift up his eyes to the vessel in worship. The holy man looked upon him steadfastly. Eye to eye they met, and there was remembrance between them of the woeful hour beneath the elder-tree where Brose died denied Christian rites. Alas! as Clerk Hew knew, Sir Aglovale also must be denied comfort. Himself he knew it: tears stood in his eyes, he shook his head slightly; his lips moved, and the young clerk leaned close and gave out aloud his whisper. "Sir, alas! I am too full of my own blood. I may not receive my Saviour." "Alas!" said Tor, "Alas!" said Griflet. Even he, that good hard old Christian was deeply moved, and his voice was broken as he bade him touch what he might not take. So Aglovale kissed the blessed Bread, and then he shifted ever so little and leaned down his face to cover while his two fellows received their Saviour. Then the holy man blessed them with the blessing of God's peace and pa**ed on. "Christ! he is going now," said Griflet; for lo! Aglovale's left arm was hanging free, and fast his life was racing out on a dark and smoking stream. He could no longer hold up against the drag of d**h; Tor caught him and lowered him back carefully. He gained ease and speech, but he could no longer see, and he put out a hand vacantly. "Where is brother Sir Tor?" "Here I hold you." "Kiss me, Tor." Brotherly they kissed together and they kept hands fast to the end. Then said Aglovale, "Thanks be to God for my good brothers, who have blessed this life of mine. Thanks be for Tor, for Lamorak, for Durnor, for Percivale, four dear brothers, and namely for Percivale." He rested quiet, but his eyes were wide and intent, though he could not see. Then he said, "Ah, Jesu God." Then he said, "Ah, Lord, your sorry servant!" and sighed heavily once. "God rest his soul," said Clerk Hew, softly, and bowed down. The two dying men looked close on the still visage between them, and then said, "Amen." Tor laid his hand across the eyes, fixed wide upon the skies in dead amazement, and shut them down. It was not in them to sorrow over the mortal part of Aglovale; only a little quiet contemplation they gave to the indifferent aspect so soon to ensue to their own bodies. Presently in morne silence Clerk Hew rose up and looked at Sir Griflet, who looked at Sir Tor, who bowed his head and clasped hard the chill hand he held. They loosed the dead man's girdle, and his harness, plates and rings, discovering the narrow wound. Leathern vest they stripped open, and linen shirt. Underneath was the haire very worn and frayed; and that they slit apart. Then breast and side lay bare, and Griflet drew in a sob. Way to the heart lay open wide already. "So help me God!" said Griflet. He touched, and came upon a shred of iron lodged close against the still heart. Forth he drew it. All reverently knight and clerk did according to promise. As he were handling a holy relic the first performed his part, and the other in like manner took, and went to find dead Gaheris. On the field he sought and could not find him, for Arthur had commanded extreme haste in the burial. In the crypt of Carlisle church, in the unclosed grave, there he found him. And in the bed of earth, as secretly as he might he gave, and so had Gaheris even what he besought for his peace in the grave. Yet one did partly espy and called him to account. "O son, O wretch, what deed is that you did? Have you laid the blessed Bread in soulless clay!" He kneeled down weeping. "By my soul, I have done no wickedness. This sacrament that I gave is not the very Body of our Lord. I will answer to God for what I have done when the dead arise." Sir Griflet and Sir Tor were also dead when Sir Kay came over the battlefield to number the dead and to make order for interment. Others were with him: Sir Persant of Inde and Sir Lucan, gentle knights; and goodly lament these uttered for the d**h of Sir Tor and Sir Griflet, and goodly they praised them as noble knights. On Sir Aglovale for gentleness they forbore to speak at all. Even Sir Kay held his peace, till looking narrowly, he discovered the haire. "Well, well!" said Kay. Gaheris and Gareth were laid in grave before ever King Arthur lifted head to go further than that particular loss; for sorrow for his nephews had taken him hard even to swooning. Of twenty-four slain these only had been named, and so he took up question on living and dead. Came his first word: "Sir Aglovale de Galis? What of him?" "Sir Aglovale is dead." At that the King breathed a deep breath that was no sigh. "Well, well!" said Arthur. Here is the end of the story of Aglovale. From beginning to end I have given it, to the best of my power, as I found it. I ask good man or woman who has taken and read it all to spend a moment now on a due that is owing: Pray for the soul of Sir Thomas Malory, knight, my most dear Master whom I love so much.