The Once and Future King
Chapter XXII
Lancelot’s body revenged itself on his mind. He lay in bed for a fortnight in the airy bedroom with an ache in every bone, while Elaine kept herself outside the room. She had him at her mercy, and could have nursed him day and night. But there was something in her heart – either decency, or pride, or generosity, or humility, or the determination not to be a cannibal – which spared him. She visited him not more than once a day, and thrust nothing on him.
One day he stopped her as she was going out. He was sitting up in a day-gown, and his hands lay still in his lap.
‘Elaine,’ he said, ‘I suppose I ought to be making plans.’
She waited for her sentence.
‘I cannot stay here for ever,’ he said.
‘You know you will be welcome as long as you like.’
‘I cannot go back to court.’
Elaine remarked, with hesitation: ‘My father would give you a castle, if you liked, and we – could live there together.’
He looked at her, and looked away.
‘Or you could have the castle.’
Lancelot took her hand and said: ‘Elaine, I don’t know what to say. I can’t very well say anything.’
‘I know you don’t love me.’
‘Do you think we should be happy, then?’
‘I only know when I shall be unhappy.’
‘I don’t want you to be unhappy. But there are different ways of being that. Don’t you think it might turn out that you would be more unhappy if we lived together?’
‘I should be the happiest woman in the world.’
‘Look, Elaine, our only hope is to speak plainly, even if it sounds horrible. You know that I don’t love you, and that I do love the Queen. It is an accident which has happened and it can’t be changed. Things do happen like that: I can’t alter it. And you have trapped me twice. If it had not been for you, I should still be at court. Do you think we could ever be happy, living together, like that?’
‘You were my man,’ said Elaine proudly, ‘before you were ever the Queen’s.’
He passed a hand over his eyes.
‘Do you want to have a husband on those terms?’
‘There is Galahad,’ said Elaine.
They sat side by side, looking into the fire. She did not cry or bid for pity – and he knew she was sparing him these things.
He said, with difficulty: ‘I will stay with you, Elaine, if you want me to. I don’t understand why you should want it. I am fond of you, very fond of you. I don’t know why, after what has happened. I don’t want you to be hurt. But, Elaine – I can’t marry you.’
‘I don’t mind.’
‘It is because – it is because marriage is a contract. I – I have always been proud of my Word. And if I do not – and if I have not that feeling for you – hang it, Elaine, I am under no obligation to marry you, when it was you who tricked me.’
‘No obligation.’
‘Obligation!’ exclaimed Lancelot, with a wry face. He threw the word into the fire as if it had a bad taste. ‘I must be sure that you understand, and that I am not cheating you. I will not marry you, because I do not love you. I did not start this, and I can’t give you my freedom: I can’t promise to stay with you for ever. I don’t want you to accept these terms, Elaine: they are humiliating ones. They are dictated by the circumstances. If I were to say anything else, it would be lies, and things would be worse –’
He broke off and hid his head in his hands.
‘I don’t understand,’ he said. ‘I am trying to do my best.’
Elaine said: ‘Under any terms, you are my good and gracious lord.’
King Pelles gave them a castle which was already known to Sir Lancelot. The King’s tenant, Sir Bliant, had to move out to make room for them – which he did the more readily when he knew that he was obliging the Wild Man who had saved his life.
‘Is he Sir Lancelot?’ asked Bliant.
‘No,’ said King Pelles. ‘He is a French knight who calls himself the Chevalier Mai Fet. I told you I was right about Sir Lancelot being dead.’
It had been arranged that Lancelot was to live incognito – because, if it were allowed to get about that he was still living and lodged at Bliant Castle, there would only be a hue-and-cry for him from the court.
Bliant Castle had such a fine moat that it was practically an island. The only way to get to it was by boat, from a barbican on the land side, and the castle itself was surrounded by a magic fence of iron, probably a sort of cheval de frise. Ten knights were appointed to serve Lancelot there, and twenty ladies to serve Elaine.
She was wild with joy.
‘We will call it the Joyous Island,’ she said. ‘We shall be so happy there. And, Lance’ – he flinched when she called him by the pet name – ‘I want you to have your hobbies. We must have tournaments, and hawking, and plenty of things to do. You must invite people to stay, so that we can have company. I promise I won’t be jealous of you, Lance, and I won’t try to live in your pocket. Don’t you think we might have a happy time if we are careful? Don’t you think the Joyous Isle would be a lovely name?’
Lancelot cleared his throat and said: ‘Yes, it would be an excellent one.’
‘You must have a new shield made for you, so that you can go on with your tournaments without being recognized. What sort of blazon will you have?’
‘Anything,’ said Lancelot. ‘We can arrange that later.’
‘The Chevalier Mal Fet. What a romantic name! What does it mean?’
‘You could make it mean several things. The Ugly Knight would be one meaning, or the Knight Who Has Done Wrong.’
He did not tell her that it could also mean the Ill-Starred Knight – the Knight with a Curse on Him.
‘I don’t think you are ugly – or wrong.’
Lancelot pulled himself together. He knew that it would be most unfair to stay with Elaine if he were going to mope about it, or to do the Grand Renunciation – but, on the other hand, it was empty work to pretend.
‘That is because you are a darling,’ he said. He kissed her quickly and clumsily, to cover the crack in the word. But Elaine noticed it.
‘You will be able to attend to Galahad’s education personally,’ she said. ‘You will be able to teach him all your tricks, so that he grows up to be the greatest knight in the world.’
He kissed her again. She had said, ‘If we are careful,’ and she was trying to be careful. He felt pity for her trying, and gratitude for the decency of her mind. He was like a distracted man doing two things at once, one of them important and the other unimportant. He felt a duty to the unimportant one. But it is always embarrassing to be loved. And he did not like to accept Elaine’s humility because of his opinion of himself.
The morning when they were to set out for Bliant arrived, and the newly-made knight, Sir Castor, stopped Lancelot in the Hall. He was only seventeen.
‘I know you are calling yourself the Ill-Made Knight,’ said Sir Castor, ‘but I think you are Sir Lancelot. Are you?’
Lancelot took the boy by the arm.
‘Sir Castor,’ he said, ‘do you think that is a knightly question? Suppose I were Sir Lancelot, and was only calling myself the Chevalier Mal Fet – don’t you think I might have some reasons for doing that, reasons which a gentleman of lineage ought to respect?’
Sir Castor blushed very much and knelt on one knee.
‘I won’t tell anybody,’ he said. Nor did he.