Historical Tales, vol. 14, Part II by Charles Morris (books to read to get smarter .TXT) 📖

"Peace, thou false priest," cried Mordred. "Chafe me no more, or I shall order that thy head be stricken off."

Finding that words were useless, the bishop departed, and, as he had threatened, laid the curse of the church on Mordred. Roused to rage by this, the usurper sought him to slay him, and he fled in all haste to Glastonbury, where he took refuge as a hermit in a chapel. But well he knew that war was at hand, and that the rightful king would soon strike for the throne.

Despite the anathema of the church, Mordred continued his efforts to get Guenever into his power; but she held firmly to the Tower, repelling all his assaults, and declaring openly that she would rather kill herself than marry such a wretch. Soon afterwards he was forced to raise the siege, for word came to him by secret messengers that Arthur had heard of his treason, and was coming home with his whole host to revenge himself on the usurper of his crown.

When Mordred heard this he made strenuous efforts to gather a large army, and many lords joined him with their people, saying that with Arthur there had been nothing but war and strife, but that with Mordred they hoped for peace and a quiet life. Thus was evil said of the good King Arthur when he was away from the land, and that by many who owed to him their honors and estates. Mordred was thus quickly able to draw with a great host to Dover, where he had heard that Arthur would land, for he hoped to defeat and slay him before he could get firm footing on England's soil.

Not long had he been there when a great fleet of ships, galleys, and carracks appeared upon the sea, bearing the king's army back to their native realm. On the beach stood Mordred's host, drawn up to prevent the landing of the king's army. As the boats came to the shore, laden with noble men-of-arms, a fierce struggle ensued, in which many a knight was slain, while full many a bold baron was laid low on both sides. But so courageous was the king, and so fierce the onset of his knights, that the opposing host could not hinder the landing of his army. And when they had gained a footing on the land, they set on Mordred with such fury that he and all his host were driven back and forced to fly, leaving Arthur master of the field.

After the battle, the king ordered that the dead should be buried and the wounded cared for. Among the latter Sir Gawaine was found lying in a great boat, where he had been felled with a deadly wound in the bitter strife. On hearing this direful news, Arthur hastened to him and took him in his arms, with great show of grief and pain.

"In you and in Lancelot I had my highest joy," moaned the king. "Now I have lost you both, and all my earthly happiness is gone."

"My death is at hand," said Gawaine, "and I owe it all to my own hate and bitterness for I am smitten on the old wound that Lancelot gave me, and feel that I must die. Had he but been with you this unhappy war would never have begun. Of all this I am the cause, and have but received my deserts. Therefore I pray you, dear uncle, let me have paper, pen, and ink, that I may write to Sir Lancelot with my own hand."

These were brought him, and Gawaine wrote a moving and tender letter to Lancelot, blaming himself severely for his hardness of heart.

In this wise it ran,—

"Unto Sir Lancelot, flower of all noble knights, I, Sir Gawaine, son of King Lot of Orkney, and sister's son unto the noble King Arthur, send greeting; and also these sad tidings, that on the tenth day of May I was smitten on the old wound which you gave me at Benwick, and thus through this wound have I come to my death. And I would have all the world know that I, Sir Gawaine, Knight of the Round Table, have met with death not through your ill-will, but from my own seeking; therefore I beseech you to come in all haste to this realm, to which you have heretofore done such honor. I earnestly pray you, Sir Lancelot, for all the love that ever was betwixt us, make no tarrying, but come over the sea in all haste, that thou mayest with thy noble knights rescue that royal king who made thee knight, for he is hard bested with a false traitor, my own half-brother, Sir Mordred, who has had himself crowned king, and would have wedded Queen Guenever had she not taken refuge in the Tower of London. We put him to flight on our landing, on the tenth day of May, but he still holds against us with a great host. Therefore, I pray you to come, for I am within two hours of my death; and I beg that you will visit my tomb, and pray some prayer, more or less, for my soul."

When Sir Gawaine had finished this letter he wept bitter tears of sorrow and remorse, and Arthur wept beside him till they both swooned, the one from grief, the other from pain. When they recovered, the king had the rites of the church administered to the dying knight, who then prayed him to send in haste for Lancelot, and to cherish him above all other knights, as his best friend and ally.

Afterwards, at the hour of noon, Gawaine yielded up his spirit. And the king had him interred in Dover castle, where men to this day may see his skull, with the wound thereon that Lancelot gave him in battle.

Word was now brought to King Arthur that Mordred had pitched a new camp on Barham Down. Thither in all haste he led his army, and there a second great battle was fought, with much loss on both sides. But at the end Arthur's party stood best, and Mordred fled, with all his host, to Canterbury.

This second victory changed the feeling of the country, and many people who had held aloof joined the king's army, saying that Mordred was a traitor and usurper. When the dead had been buried and the wounded cared for, Arthur marched with his host to the sea-shore, westward towards Salisbury. Here a challenge passed between him and Mordred, in which they agreed to meet on a down beside Salisbury, on the day after Trinity Sunday, and there fight out their quarrel.

Mordred now made haste to recruit his army, raising many men about London, for the people of that section of the country held largely with him, and particularly those who were friendly to Lancelot. When the time fixed came near, the two armies drew together and camped on Salisbury Down.

And so the days passed till came the night of Trinity Sunday, when the king dreamed a strange dream, for it seemed to him that he sat in a chair that was fastened to a wheel, and was covered with the richest cloth of gold that could be made. But far beneath him he beheld a hideous black pool, in which were all manner of serpents, and vile worms, foul and horrible. Suddenly the wheel seemed to turn, and he fell among the serpents, which seized upon his limbs.

Awakening in fright, he loudly cried, "Help!" and knights and squires came crowding in alarm into his chamber; but he was so amazed that he knew not where he was nor what he said.

Then he fell again into a half slumber, in which Gawaine seemed to come to him attended by a number of fair ladies.

"Fair nephew," asked the king, "who are these ladies?"

"They are those for whom I did battle during my life," answered Gawaine. "God has sent them and me to warn you of your coming death, for if you fight with Mordred to-morrow as you have agreed, you will both be slain, and most of your people. Therefore I am here to warn you not to fight to-morrow, but to treat with the traitor, and make him large and fair promises, so as to gain a month's delay. Within that time Lancelot and his knights will come, and Mordred the usurper cannot hold against you both."

This said, Gawaine and the ladies vanished. Then Arthur waked, and sent messengers in haste to bring his lords and bishops to council. When they had come he told them his dream, and they counselled him by all means to be guided by it. Lucan the butler, and his brother Sir Bevidere, with two bishops, were therefore sent to treat with Mordred, and make him large promises for a month's truce.

The commissioners sought Mordred's camp and held a long conference with him. At the end he agreed to meet King Arthur on the plain between the hosts, each to bring but fourteen persons with him, and there consult on the treaty.

"I am glad that this is accomplished," said the king, when word of the compact was brought him.

But when he was ready to start for the place of conference, with the fourteen chosen men, he said to his knights,—

"Be wary and watchful, for I trust not Mordred. If you see any sword drawn, come fiercely forward, and slay the villain and his guard."

Mordred gave the same warning to his lords, for he had equal mistrust of Arthur, whom he feared and doubted.

The two leaders, with their chosen followers, now advanced and met between the hosts. But by a fatal chance, as the king and his opponent were in consultation, an adder came from a heath bush and stung a knight on the foot. Feeling the wound he drew his sword in thoughtless haste to kill the venomous serpent. But the instant the hosts on both sides saw that sword flash in the air all was uproar and tumult. On both sides trumpets and horns were blown, harness rattled and clanked, and the flash of spear-heads and sword-blades gleamed in the sunlight, while like two mighty waves of war the great hosts broke from their stations and rushed together across the plain.

Then Arthur sprang to his horse, exclaiming, "Alas! this unhappy day!" and rode to his party; and Mordred did likewise.

No hand nor voice could stay the advancing hosts, and in a moment there began the most doleful battle ever seen in Christian land. For there was rushing and riding, foining and striking, and deadly clamor, and fearful strife. Many a grim word was there spoken, and many a deadly stroke dealt. Many times King Arthur rode through Mordred's host, and knightly were the deeds of his hands. And Mordred fought with knightly valor and zeal.

Thus went on the deadly fray all day long, without pause or stint, till noble knights lay like fallen leaves upon the bloody ground. And when nightfall was at hand they still fought with desperate valor, though by that time full a hundred thousand men lay dead upon the down.

Then the heart of Arthur grew full of warlike fury, to see so many of his people slain. And when the sun was near its setting, he leaned upon his crimson sword, and looked about him with eyes that seemed to weep blood. For of all his mighty host of knights but two remained alive, Sir Lucan the butler, and his brother Sir Bevidere; and both of these were sorely wounded.

"God's mercy!" cried the king, "where are all my noble knights? Alas! that I have lived to see this doleful day! Now, indeed, am I come to my end. But would to God I knew where to find that traitor, Mordred, who has