And Sir Agravaine groaned, and he said, “Yea, Mordred, I have suspected that since I was a young knight, but despite my long surveillance of several decades I have obtained not one whit of good evidence. And our brother Gawaine will listen to no accusation without some.”
“Well, thy fruitless vigil is at an end, Agravaine,” said Sir Mordred. “Now rise and clothe thyself, and take thy sword. For Launcelot doth bed beside Guinevere at this moment, and he is unarmed. We shall take him easily, thou and I, and he will soon lie under the headsman’s ax.”
“And what of her?” gasped Sir Agravaine in very much the same state as though he were mad with lust, and he flung himself out of bed and he would have thrown a robe over his nightdress had not Mordred stayed him.
“The bitch will be burned, certes!” said Mordred. (Who was prevaricating, for he would marry her after King Arthur was slain.) “But put on thy full armor. Launcelot unarmed is yet Launcelot.”
Now Agravaine was not the worst man in the world, and he liked not to face an unarmed knight when he himself was armored cap-à-pie, for he had not even in the grip of his lifelong obsession forsaken all his noble scruples. And, now that the moment had come, he knew a reluctance to bring Guinevere to the stake, for what he held against her was not her adultery as such, but that it had not been committed with him.
And for a moment he had his old hope that with Launcelot gone she might turn to him to satisfy her lust. (For Agravaine was the simple-minded sort of knight who doth suppose that a wife turns adulteress to feed her carnal appetites, whereas the wise man knoweth that illicit swyvers, male and female, are ruled more by the needs of the mind than those of the privities, and under certain conditions can remain chaste more easily than the routine mortal.)
But as it was Mordred who now provided that which Agravaine had sought for most of his life, so it was he who directed his older brother in how to deal with it.
And he said, “Adultery is a very vile crime ordinarily, Agravaine, but when it is perpetrated by a queen and the first knight it partaketh also of treason against the crown! These are the most heinous pair of miscreants in Christendom, Brother,” And with such incendiary speech he heated Sir Agravaine’s blood.
And Agravaine was so distracted by the high feelings with which he masked that which at bottom was envy, that he did not see that Mordred did not armor himself nor did he have any weapon but the short bodkin (with which he had intended to kill King Arthur).
So they went to the queen’s door, and at the instigation of Mordred, Agravaine pounded upon it and he demanded that it be opened in the name of every law of God and man.
And within, where Guinevere and Launcelot lay abed, they awakened up and for a while they listened to the pounding.
And then Sir Launcelot said stoically, “We are discovered at long last.” And then he rose from the bed, and he would have gone to the door to surrender himself for arrest, but the queen stayed him.
“Nay, Launcelot,” said she, “we shall never submit to them. Flee through the privy passage behind the arras. Then I shall go to the door and decree death for these caitiffs who disturb the queen’s repose.”
“Flee?” asked Sir Launcelot in amazement. “Shall Launcelot flee? He who hath never fled from any man or monster?”
“Speakest thou of thyself as a third person?” asked Guinevere. “Hast thou lived as a man or rather as an abstract example for-argument’s-sake?”
“Whatever your opinion of me, madam,” said Sir Launcelot, “there are certain things I will never do, and only insofar as I abide by those few scruples I am not totally corrupt. The loaf of mine honor hath long since been devoured by the teeth of my lust. Permit me to pluck at this crumb. I do not flee. I stand my ground.”
“’Tis an inappropriate term, for some years, this ‘stand,’” said the queen. “Pray choose thy locutions with greater precision.”
And Sir Launcelot did flush, and he said, “Did ever a woman in all the world so despise the man for whom she had nevertheless a lifelong addiction?”
“Doth not the drunkard despise the wine he so requires?” asked Guinevere.
“Nay, lady, not so much as he despises himself,” said Sir Launcelot.
And Guinevere all at once lost her anger, and she wept softly, and she then said, “Well, shall I beg thee, Launcelot? Shall I say that I can not live without thee, that mine apparent disdain is merely the means by which I have endeavored to defend myself against becoming thy slave—and failed?”
“Nay,” said Launcelot, “you shall never say that, for ’tis a jest, lady, and hath no comic application when the king’s officer doth beat upon the door.” And he went from her, but then he tarried and he came back. And he said, “I shall surrender and accept my punishment—but as one who took you by force, not as your lover freely accepted.”
And now the pounding had become as thunder, and next the sound of a sword was heard as the very hinges were being attacked.
And the queen became as if angry once more. “Thou shalt lose thine head whilst I live stainless?” she asked. “Dost think that thou canst accept punishment better than I? And what of thy principles, Launcelot? Do they permit a lie?”
“Cast your memory back across the years, lady,” said Launcelot. “Could one not, without utter disregard for the truth, interpret my first touching you as a criminal assault on the queen?”
“Vanity,” said Guinevere, “will ever be thy most flagrant sin.” And she lifted her chin, and her throat was soft and white as it had ever been, and her eyes were as blue and her hair as golden, and her bosom as high in the nightdress of white sendal, and she was even more beautiful than when he had first become intimate with her. And for a long time they had not made love, for this soft life had made him an eunuch, and yet he could not leave it.
And the queen said now, “Sir Launcelot, I command thee to leave by the private way whilst I deal with these scum.”
But Sir Launcelot said, “Lady, I defy thee in love!” And he went to the door and throwing the bolts he hurled it open.
Now seeing Sir Launcelot before him, if in sinful nightdress and at the scene of his crime, Sir Agravaine was for an instant stupefied. For to face Launcelot was to confront the greatest of living legends. And Launcelot was not an huge man with great shoulders and a chest like a tun nor exceptionally tall, and that was more the figure of Sir Agravaine, who exceeded him in all dimensions and wore full armor besides.
And Sir Agravaine was brave enough, and he had killed his share of formidable enemies, before his obsession had got so commanding as to keep him always at Camelot, and if we have not told about them here, it was because that his deeds did not distinguish him from his fellows at the Round Table, that company of the finest knights in the world.
But some few were greater than all the others, and they were sirs Tristram and Gawaine and Percival. But Sir Launcelot was the greatest of all, except his son Galahad, who was to come. And when any knight stood before him except in friendship, that knight was aware of dread peril, for all men of that time lived and died by legend (and without it the world hath become a mean place).
Therefore Sir Agravaine, to whom Sir Launcelot had always been friendly and kind, did tremble now within his steel, and for a moment he could not speak.
And Launcelot said to him, and not unkindly, “My dear Agravaine, what dost thou want at such a late hour?”
And Agravaine at last said, lifting his sword, “Methinks it is improper for thee to be in this place, Launcelot.”
“Well,” said Launcelot gently, “is it quite thine affair where I am?”
“Nay,” said Agravaine, “unless thou art in some place where the honor of the Round Table be thereby affected adversely.”
And now the queen came to the door, and she was full dressed in a daytime robe trimmed with ermine, and she wore her coronet (which was less golden than her hair).
And recognizing Agravaine through his open visor she said, “Nephew, thou dost not know what thou art d
oing. I give thee my word that nothing lewd hath here occurred. Now prithee void this place.”
Now the reason that neither Launcelot nor Guinevere saw Mordred was that he lingered beyond the embrasure of the door, unseen, and therefore they believed that Sir Agravaine had come alone.
And at Guinevere’s speech Sir Agravaine did lower his sword, the which he had presented to Launcelot’s bosom, for if he found it difficult to stand without friendship before Launcelot, he could not do it at all before the queen, regardless of his certainty that she was an adulteress, for she was all that he found beautiful in the world, and on her command he would have groveled upon the floor. And now he was flattered merely by reason of her speaking to him to order him to go away, for these were more personal words than she had ever addressed to him his life long.
And he colored in mixed pleasure and embarrassment, and he said obsequiously, “Lady, forgive me for making this alarum. It seems I was misled. I had woken untimely from a bad dream, and I fear my wits were confused.”
Now Mordred in the corridor heard this with furious disgust, and he knew that if left to his own devices foolish Agravaine would soon go away, forsaking this unique opportunity to wreak havoc on King Arthur and the Round Table.
And therefore when Agravaine had finished his apology and Guinevere had turned away and Sir Launcelot had started to close the door, Mordred sprang into the embrasure and crouching at Agravaine’s knee he thrust his dagger upwards with all his force into the forearm of Sir Launcelot, wounding him to the bone.
Now Launcelot flung the door open and with his left hand he seized the sword which Sir Agravaine, distracted utterly by the queen, had not yet put away. And Sir Launcelot, believing that Agravaine had wounded him cowardly, knew great anger, and with his great strength he plunged the sword through the armor and into the breast of Sir Agravaine, and the blade went all the way unto its hilt and all of Agravaine’s blood spewed forth from his mouth, the which was yet open in awe of Guinevere’s majestic beauty. And he fell heavily onto the stones of the floor, and there he died.
Now Sir Launcelot had never seen Mordred, nor had the queen, and therefore they supposed that only Sir Agravaine, now dead, had known of their lying together.
And Guinevere said, “If the body be hidden in a privy place, none will know of this unfortunate event.”
But Sir Launcelot said, “He was the king’s own nephew, lady! ’Tis terrible that this happened, but what could I do when he cowardly smote me from behind? I did not believe that Agravaine, a noble knight, would be so base!”
But Guinevere would not dwell on why it had happened, but rather she thought only of how it could be concealed, and she flung aside the arras and she discovered the privy staircase leading to the cellars. “Carry his corse below,” said she, “and deposit it in some remote place, perhaps the dungeons, the which are never used at Camelot.”
“Lady,” said Launcelot, “I have killed a knight.”
“One of many such,” said Guinevere. “And hast thou each time been benumbed with grief?”
“Agravaine,” said Launcelot, “was my brother in the Round Table.” And he stood looking at his body, and he made moan.
“That affiliation meant little to him, obviously,” said the queen. “And did he not cut thee?”
“Yea, so he did,” said Launcelot. “But he did nothing worse, and yet I thrust him through the heart! And why, lady? For he would not have come here at all had we not been cohabiting lewdly.”
And the queen was in a great rage against him, and she cried, “All these years that we have been together, and thou yet see it as only lewdness!” And she raised her head and she looked at him with the greatest disdain, and she said, “Thou squalid little man.”
And she went and she sat in the window and watched the dawn shorten the shadows in the courtyard. And Sir Launcelot knelt beside Sir Agravaine’s corse, and he prayed for the souls of all of them, and the wound in his arm bled copiously.
And meanwhile Sir Mordred went to his father King Arthur, who was only just arising from his slumber, and he told him of the queen and Sir Launcelot.
And King Arthur raised his strong arm and he struck his son to the floor.
Then Mordred rose with a detestable smirk and he said, “Sire, I had anticipated your great trust in me (for I am of an honest blood). And now if you will put on your robe and crown and take your scepter, for in this matter surely you will rule ex cathedra and therefore you must needs have the proper furniture—”
“Toad that thou art!” cried King Arthur, seizing Excalibur and half drawing it from the scabbard. “Slimy thing! Have I the strength to restrain myself from slaying thee here and now?”
But Mordred was not in the least afraid. “Oh, I think you have! You are King Arthur and not Father Abraham. And you have already lost one nephew this night.” And then he told the king of how Sir Launcelot had foully killed Sir Agravaine, as he had not told him previously, for Mordred did space his effects for their maximum advantage.
And the king made great grief, and he said as if to himself, “Such are the ends of such means.” And he went to the hall of the Round Table, and there he sat down, and Mordred followed him leering.
And now he said to his father the king, “Do you command me to take them in arrest?”
And King Arthur lifted his white head. “Thou dost sicken me to the death,” said he, “thou pestilence, thou pox!”
“And so speaketh the greatest king of all time,” said Mordred, who was much pleased to be so abused, “who ruleth with perfect justice! He blameth his bastard when his queen whores with his first knight. And what doth he care of adultery, when his only begotten son was born only by means of it?”
And King Arthur lost his anger in shame, and he put his head into his hands and he wept.
And Mordred cried, “She must be burnt, Majesty! Else you must abandon all pretense of your fitness to rule.”
And Mordred did never believe that King Arthur would burn Guinevere at the stake, and therefore he believed that his father would abdicate the throne, thus forsaking it to him, who would receive with it the fealty of all the knights of the Round Table, leaving Arthur without defenders, and he would kill him and take the queen as his own.
But King Arthur amazed Mordred now by assuming control of himself. “Yea,” said the king, “I know that must happen before long. But I will not permit thee to gloat over it.” And he raised his hand and he pointed at Mordred his son, and he said, “Thou art banished from Camelot.”
“For telling the truth, dear Father?” asked Mordred. “Very well, then! You have Excalibur, and I am armed but with a tiny bodkin.”
And King Arthur stood up and he unbuckled his sword from his waist, and he threw it from him, and he said, with a loathing in the first words, “My son, shall we contest the point?” And his limbs no longer trembled.
But now Mordred was sore afraid, as he had not been when King Arthur was armed, and he fled from Camelot.
Then King Arthur sent couriers to Sir Gawaine and his other nephews Gareth and Gaheris, and he commanded them to come to him. And when they arrived he told them of Sir Agravaine’s death.
And they all mourned for their brother, and sirs Gaheris and Gareth swore to avenge his death and to kill Sir Launcelot.
But Sir Gawaine said, “Brothers, let us first make certain in what fashion he was killed, for it is not like Launcelot to be a foul murderer. Agravaine was a good man and our dear brother, but yet I know that he did nurse a great bitterness in his heart, for what reason I did never understand, and perhaps this caused him to act rashly.”
And Sir Gareth chided Gawaine, saying, “Thou hast for a long time stayed beside thy good wife, Brother, at a warm hearth. And so have Gaheris and I. But can we therefore ignore an heinous offense against our father’s family? Have we exchanged our honor for our comfort?”
But Sir Gawaine said, “My dear Gareth, I have killed in the heat of wrath and I have killed in the cold certainty that rev
enge was necessary, and I was wrong to do either. By accident I killed a lady once when I could not control my anger against her knight, and it has not been long since I killed King Pellinore because he had justly fought for his own land against our father. A knight should protect the persons of his family, but when his line of blood hath become a mere abstract principle he should move cautiously. And I have learned by living some years that sometimes Honor is real, but sometimes it is an illusion, and when lives are lost for the latter, can any purpose be served but the Devil’s?”
And Sir Gaheris was caused by this speech to reflect on his late encounter with Sir Lamorak, and how in inordinate anger he had killed their mother Margawse accidentally. And his spirits were chastened now, and he agreed with Sir Gawaine. But Sir Gareth did not, even so, and though he would not dispute with his older brothers, his anger was unabated against Launcelot, the man he had once so worshiped as to wish to be knighted only by him.
Now King Arthur said, “Nephews, our beloved Agravaine can not be brought back to life, however he did leave it, and revenge is forbidden by our holy Faith.”
And then the king’s head fell to his bosom and he closed his eyes. Then after a long time he lifted his head again and he said, “Sirs Gawaine, Gaheris, and Gareth, I command ye to go to Queen Guinevere and take her in close arrest.”
And then he told them of the criminal cohabitation of Guinevere and Sir Launcelot, and that she must be burned.
And Sir Gawaine asked the king how he knew of this, and the king said he had been told by Mordred.
Then Gawaine said, “I do not know our brother Mordred well, but methinks that like Agravaine he too doth have some inexplicable grudge. Could it be rather that the noble Launcelot had gone to the queen’s chambers for some honest reason, but owing to the lateness of the hour and the privacy of the place his errand might seem lewd to one who looked for infractions against decency? Sir Launcelot is the queen’s defender. Could she not have sent for him because she feared the incursion of some Meliagrant, now that Camelot has long been void of most knights?”