The Once and Future King

Chapter XVII

Elaine arrived at the yawning barbican, and Guenever kissed her coolly. ‘You are welcome to Camelot,’ she said. ‘Five thousand welcomes.’

‘Thank you,’ said Elaine.

They looked at each other with hostile, smiling faces.

‘Lancelot will be delighted to see you.’

‘Oh!’

‘Everybody knows about the baby, dear. There is nothing to be shy about. The King and I are quite excited to see whether he will be like his father.’

‘It is kind of you,’ said Elaine uncomfortably.

‘You must let me be the first to see him. You have called him Galahad, have you not? Is he strong? Does he notice things?’

‘He weighs fifteen pounds,’ the girl announced with pride. ‘You can see him now if you like.’

Guenever took hold of herself with an effort which was hardly noticeable, and began fussing with Elaine’s wraps.

‘No, dear,’ she said. ‘I must not be so selfish as that. You must rest after your long journey, and probably Baby will have to be settled down. I can come to see him this evening, when he has had a sleep. There will be plenty of time.’

But she had to see the baby in the end.

When Lancelot next met the Queen, her sweetness and reason were gone. She was cold and proud, and spoke as if she were addressing a meeting.

‘Lancelot,’ she said, ‘I think you ought to go to your son. Elaine is grieving because you have not been to see him.’

‘Have you seen him?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is he ugly?’

‘He takes after Elaine.’

‘Thank God. I will go at once.’

The Queen called him back.

‘Lancelot,’ she said, taking a breath through her nose, ‘I am trusting you not to make love to Elaine under my roof. If you and I are to keep apart until it is settled, it is only fair that you should keep away from her.’

‘I don’t want to make love to Elaine.’

‘You must say that, of course. And I will believe you. But if you break your word this time, it will be finished between us. Absolutely finished.’

‘I have said all I can say.’

‘Lancelot, you have deceived me once, so how can I be sure? I have put Elaine in the next room to mine, and I shall see if you go to it. I want you to keep in your own room.’

‘If you like.’

‘I shall send for you some time tonight, if I can get away from Arthur. I will not tell you when. If you are not in your room when I send for you, I shall know that you are with Elaine.’

The girl was weeping in her chamber, while Dame Brisen arranged the cradle for the little boy.

‘I saw him in the archery butts, and he saw me too. But he looked away. He made an excuse and went out. He has not even seen our baby.’

‘There, there,’ said Dame Brisen. ‘Lawks a mussy.’

‘I ought not to have come. It has only made me more miserable, and him too.’

‘’Tis that there Queen.’

‘She is beautiful, isn’t she?’

The Dame said darkly: ‘Handsome is as handsome does.’

Elaine began to sob helplessly. She looked repulsive, with her red nose, as people do when they abdicate their dignity.

‘I wanted him to be pleased.’

There was a knock on the door, and Lancelot came in – which made her quickly dry the eyes. They greeted each other with constraint.

‘I am glad you have come to Camelot,’ he said. ‘I hope you are well?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘How is – the baby?’

‘Your lordship’s son,’ said Dame Brisen with emphasis.

She turned the cradle towards him, and moved back so that he could see.

‘My son.’

They stood looking down at the fresh thing, helpless and only half alive. They were strong, as the poet sings, and it was weak – one day they would be weak, and it strong.

‘Galahad,’ said Elaine, and she leaned over the wrappings, making the foolish gestures and meaningless sounds which mothers delight to use when their babies are beginning to pay attention. Galahad clenched his fist and hit himself in the eye with it, an achievement which seemed to give pleasure to the women. Lancelot watched them in amazement. ‘My son,’ he thought. ‘It is part of me, yet it is fair. It does not seem to be ugly. How can you tell with babies?’ He held out his right finger to Galahad, putting it inside the fat palm of his hand, which clutched it. The hand looked as if it had been fitted to the arm by a cunning doll maker. There was a deep crease round the wrist.

‘Oh, Lancelot!’ cried Elaine.

She tried to throw herself into his arms, but he pushed her off. He looked at Brisen over her shoulder with fear and exasperation. He made a wild, senseless sound – and rushed out of the room. Elaine, unsupported, sank down beside the bed and began to sob more than ever. Brisen, standing rigid, as she had stood to bear Sir Lancelot’s glare, looked at the closed door with an inscrutable expression.