The passing of Arthur
When morning dawned, after that day
of fate, Lucan and Bevidere took up the king between
them, and sought to bear him to the sea-shore, as he
bade them do. But in the lifting the king swooned,
and Lucan fell prostrate, the blood gushing anew from
his wound.
Arthur lay long like one dead, and
when he came to himself again he saw Lucan lifeless
at his feet, with foam upon his lips, and the ground
around him deeply stained with his blood.
“Alas! this is a heavy sight
to see,” he said. “He sought to help
me when he stood most in need of help. He would
not complain though his heart broke, and has given
his life for mine. May Jesus have mercy on his
soul.”
Bevidere stood beside him, weeping
bitterly for the death of his brother.
“Weep and mourn no more,”
said the king. “It will not now avail.
Could I live, the death of Sir Lucan would grieve
me evermore. But my time goeth fast, and there
is that to do for which but few moments remain.”
Then he closed his eyes for a time,
like one who sees visions; and when he looked again
there was that in his face which Bevidere could not
fathom and his eyes were deep with meaning unrevealed.
“Now, my lord Bevidere,”
said the king, “the end is at hand. Take
thou my good sword Excalibur, and go with it to yonder
water-side. When thou comest there, I charge
thee throw it as far as thou canst into the water;
then come again and tell me what thing thou seest.”
“Trust me, my lord and king,
your command shall be obeyed,” said Bevidere.
So he took the sword and departed
to the water-side. But as his eyes fell upon
the noble weapon, whose pommel and haft were all of
precious stones, a feeling of greed came upon him
and he said to himself,
“If I throw this rich sword
into the water, no good can come of it, but only harm
and loss. Had I not better keep it for myself?”
Moved by this thought, he hid Excalibur
under a tree, and returned to the king, whom he told
that he had thrown the sword into the water.
“What saw you there?” asked the king.
“Sir, I saw nothing but the rippling waves.”
“Then you speak untruly,”
said the king. “You have not thrown the
sword as I bade you. Go again, and obey my command,
as you are to me dear and true. Spare not, but
throw it in afar.”
Bevidere thereupon went again, and
took the sword in his hand. But the rich jewels
so glittered in the sun that his greed came back more
strongly than before, and he deemed it a sin to throw
into the sea that noble blade. So he hid the
sword again, and returned to the king with his former
tale.
“What sawest thou there?” asked the king.
“Sir, I saw nothing but the
waves that broke on the beach, and heard only the
roar of the surf.”
“Ah, traitor! false and untrue
art thou!” cried the king. “Thou hast
betrayed me twice. Who would have thought that
thou, whom I held dear, and who art named a noble
knight, would betray his king for the jewels of a
sword? Go again, for thy long delay puts me in
a great jeopardy of my life. If now you do not
as I have bidden, beware of me hereafter, for dead
or alive I will have revenge upon you. Would you,
Sir Bevidere, for a shining blade, bring death and
ruin to your king?”
Then Bevidere, heart-full of shame,
hastened away, and took the sword, turning his eyes
manfully away from its jewelled hilt. Binding
the girdle around it, with all the might of his arm
he hurled the blade far out over the waves.
Then came a marvel. For as he
followed the sword with his eyes, he saw a hand and
arm rise above the waves to meet the blade. The
hand caught it by the hilt, and brandished it thrice
in the air, and then vanished with it into the water.
Bevidere, much wondering, hurried
back to the king, and told him what he had seen.
“Now, Sir Bevidere, you have
done as I bade you,” said Arthur. “But
much precious time have you lost. Help me hence,
in God’s name, for I fear that I have tarried
over-long.”
Then Bevidere took the king on his
back and bore him to the water-side, and lo! there
he saw another strange thing.
For close by the shore lay a little
barge, which he had not seen before, and in it sat
many fair ladies, among whom were three queens, who
wore black hoods, and wept with bitter sorrow when
they saw King Arthur.
“Now help me into the barge,” said the
king.
This Sir Bevidere did as gently as
he could. And the three queens received the dying
monarch with deep mourning, and had him laid between
them, with his head on the lap of her who sat in the
centre.
“Alas! dear brother, why have
you tarried so long from me?” said this queen.
“Much harm I fear from this sad wound.”
And so they rowed from the land, while
Bevidere stood on the shore sadly watching the barge
go from him.
“Ah, my lord Arthur,”
he cried, “what shall become of me, now that
you go from me and leave me here alone among my enemies?”
“Comfort thyself,” said
the king, “and do what thou mayest, for in me
can no man henceforth put his trust. I go into
the vale of Avilion, to a happy summer island far
over the sea, where I shall be healed of my grievous
wound. But when I shall come again no voice may
tell. Mayhap I shall never come, but dwell forever
in that sunny vale. If you never hear more of
me, pray for my soul.”
Then again the queens and the ladies
wept and moaned, and the barge moved swiftly over
the long waves and afar to sea, while Bevidere stood
and watched it till it became a black speck on the
waters. Then it vanished and was seen no more,
and the lonely watcher cast himself upon the beach,
weeping like one who has lost all life’s happiness.
But when night came near he turned
and went wearily away, heavy with the weight of death
that lay upon his soul, for he alone remained of yesterday’s
mighty hosts. All that night he journeyed through
a great forest, and in the morning he found himself
between two hoary cliffs, with a chapel and a hermitage
in the glen that lay between.
In this hermitage he found the holy
man who had been archbishop of Canterbury, and who
had come hither to escape Mordred’s rage.
With him Bevidere stayed till he was cured of his
wounds, and afterwards he put on poor clothes, and
served the hermit full lowly in fasting and prayers.
But as for the three queens who went
with Arthur to the island of Avilion, the chronicles
say that they were Morgan lé Fay his sister, the
queen of Northgalis, and the queen of the Waste Lands.
And with them was Nimue, the lady of the lake.
All were skilled in magic, but whither they bore King
Arthur, or where lies the magical isle of Avilion,
or if he shall come again, all this no man can say.
These are of the secrets that time alone can tell,
and we only know that his coming is not yet.