MORGAN LE FAY
MORGAN LE FAY, KING ARTHUR’S HALF-SISTER, was a dark, handsome, passionate woman, and cruel and ambitious. In a nunnery she studied necromancy and became proficient in the dark and destructive magic which is the weapon of the jealous. She joyed in bending and warping men to her will through beauty and enchantment, and when these failed she used the blacker arts of treason and murder. It was her pleasure to use men against men, fashioning from their weaknesses weapons for their strength. Having Sir Uryens for her husband, she made promises to Sir Accolon of Gaul and so enmeshed him in dreams and enchantments that his will was slack and his honor drugged, and he became the implement of her deepest wish. For Morgan hated her brother, Arthur, hated his nobility and was jealous of his crown. Morgan le Fay planned her brother’s murder with intricate care. She would give the crown to Uryens but keep its power for herself, and the entangled Accolon would be the murder weapon.
By her arts Morgan the witch made a sword and sheath exactly like Excalibur in appearance, and secretly she substituted it for Arthur’s sword. Then she beguiled Accolon with promises, canceled his conscience with his lust, and instructed him in the part he was to play, and when he agreed he thought her eyes lighted with love when they were fired with triumph, for Morgan le Fay loved no one. Hatred was her passion and destruction her pleasure.
Then Accolon by instruction took his place near Arthur and never left his side.
When there were no wars or tournaments it was the custom of knights and fighting men to hunt in the great forests which covered so much of England. In the breakneck chase of deer through forest and swamp and over rutted and rock-strewn hills, they tempered their horsemanship, and meeting the savage charge of wild boars, they kept their courage high and their dexterity keen. And also their mild enterprise loaded the turning spits in the kitchens with succulent meat for the long tables of the great hall.
On a day when King Arthur and many of his knights quartered the forest in search of quarry, the king and Sir Uryens and Sir Accolon of Gaul started a fine stag and gave chase. They were well horsed, so that before they knew it they were ten miles from the rest of the fellowship. The proud, high-antlered stag drew them on, and with whip and spur they pushed their foaming horses through tangled undergrowth and treacherous bogs, leaped streams and fallen trees until they overdrove their mounts and the foundered horses fell heaving to the ground, with bloody bits and rowel stripes on their sides.
The three knights, now footbound, watched the stag move wearily away. “This is a pretty thing,” said Arthur. “We are miles from help.”
Sir Uryens said, “We haven’t any choice but to go on foot and look for some place to lodge and wait for help.” They walked heavily through the oak forest until they came to the bank of a deep, wide river, and on the bank lay the exhausted stag, ringed with hounds, a brachet tearing at his throat. King Arthur scattered the hounds and killed the stag, and he raised his hunting horn and sounded the death call of a prize taken.
And only then did the knights look about them. On the smooth dark water they saw a little ship covered with silken cloth that hung over the sides and dipped into the water, and the boat moved silently toward the bank and grounded itself in the sandy shallows nearby. Arthur waded to the boat and looked under the silken hangings and saw no one there. He called to his friends to come, and the three boarded the little vessel and found it laden with luxury, with soft cushions and rich hangings, but they could see no occupants. The three men sat tiredly down on the soft cushions and rested while the evening came and the forest darkened around them. Night birds called in the forest and wild ducks came coasting in and the black wall of the forest reared over them.
As the companions nodded sleepily, a ring of torches flared up around them, and from the cabin of the ship twelve lovely damsels emerged, dressed in flowing silken gowns. The ladies curtsied to the king and saluted him by his name and welcomed him, and Arthur thanked them for their courtesy. Then they led the king and his fellows to a cabin hung with tapestry, and at a rich table they served wine and meats of many kinds, and such delicacies that all sat in wonder at the variety and profusion of the supper. And after they had supped long and pleasantly, and their eyes were heavy with good wine, the damsels led each to separate cabins richly hung with beds deep and soft. Then the three sank into the beds and instantly they fell into a deep, drugged sleep.
In the dawn Sir Uryens opened his wine-swollen eyes and saw that he lay in his own bed in his own lodgings in Camelot and Morgan le Fay seemingly asleep beside him. He had gone to sleep two days’ journey away, and he could remember nothing else. He studied his wife through slitted lids, for there were many things he did not know about her and many other things he did not want to know. And so he held his peace and concealed his wonder.
King Arthur came to his senses on the cold stones of a dungeon floor. Dusky light from a high slit in the wall showed him the restless figures of many other prisoners. The king sat up, asking, “Where am I, and who are you?”
“We are captive knights,” they told him. “There are twenty of us here and some of us have been kept in this dark cell for as much as eight years.”
“For what reason?” asked the king. “Is it for ransom?”
“No,” said one of the knights. “I will tell you the cause. The lord of this castle is Sir Damas, a mean and recreant man, and also a coward. His younger brother is Sir Outlake, a good, brave, honorable knight. Sir Damas has refused to share the inherited lands with his brother, except for a small manor house and lands Sir Outlake holds by force and guards against his brother. The people of the countryside love Sir Outlake for his kindness and justice, but they hate Sir Damas, because he is cruel and vengeful, as most cowards are. For many years there has been war and contention between the brothers, and Sir Outlake has issued a challenge to fight in single combat for his rights against his brother or any knight Sir Damas may appoint. But Sir Damas has not the courage to fight, and moreover he is so hated that no knight will enter the field for him. And so he with a gang of hired fighting men has laid traps for good knights venturing alone, and fallen on them and brought them captive to this place. He offers freedom if we will fight for him, but everyone has refused and some he has tortured and some starved to death. All of us are faint from hunger and the cramping prison so that we could not fight even if we wished to.”
And Arthur said, “May God in his mercy deliver you.”
Now a damsel looked through the iron grill of the dungeon door and beckoned to Arthur, and she said softly, “How do you like it here?”
“Am I supposed to like a prison?” said Arthur. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you have a choice,” the damsel said. “If you will fight for my lord you will be released, but if you refuse, as these other fools have, you will spend your life here.”
“It is a strange way to get a champion,” said the king, “but for myself I would rather combat with a knight than live in a dungeon. If I agree to fight, will you release these other prisoners?”
“Yes,” said the damsel.
“Then I am ready,” the king said, “but I have neither horse nor armor.”
“You shall have everything you need, sir.”
The king looked closely at her and he said, “It seems to me that I have seen you at King Arthur’s court.”
“No,” she said. “I have never been there. I am the daughter of the lord of this castle.”
While the girl went to make arrangements, Arthur searched his memory, and he was quite sure he had seen her attending his sister Morgan le Fay.
Sir Damas accepted Arthur’s offer and he took an oath to deliver the prisoners and the king swore to fight his utmost against Sir Damas’s enemy. Then the twenty weak and starving knights were brought out of the dungeon and given food, and they all remained to see the combat.
Now we must go to Sir Accolon, the third knight, who had slept the enchanted sleep. He awakened close beside a deep well where a movement in his sleep would have cast him down. From the well there issued a silver pipe spouting water into a marble fountain. Morgan’s magic had weakened with her absence, so that Accolon blessed himself, and he said aloud, “Jesus save my lord King Arthur and Sir Uryens. Those were not ladies in the ship but fiends from hell. If I can come clear of this misadventure I will destroy them and all others who practice evil magic.”
And at that moment an ugly dwarf with thick lips and a flat nose came out of the forest and saluted Sir Accolon. “I come from Morgan le Fay,” said the dwarf, and the spell settled back on the knight. “She greets you and bids you be strong-hearted, because tomorrow in the morning you are to fight with a knight. Because she loves you, she sends you this sword Excalibur and its scabbard. And she says if you love her you will fight without mercy, as you promised her in private. She will also expect the king’s head as proof that you have fulfilled your oath.”
Sir Accolon was deep enchanted now. He said, “I understand. I shall keep my promise and I can, now that I have Excalibur. When did you see my lady?”
“A little time ago,” said the dwarf.
Then Accolon in his rapture embraced the ugly dwarf and kissed him and said, “Greet my lady for me and tell her I will keep my promise or die in the attempt. Now I understand the little ship and the sleep. My lady has arranged all of it, isn’t that true?”
“You may well believe it, sir,” said the dwarf and he slipped away into the forest and left Accolon dreaming beside the silver fountain.
And soon there came a knight accompanied by a lady and six squires, and he begged Accolon to come to a manor nearby to dine and rest, and Accolon accepted. All this was planned by Morgan le Fay, for the lord of the manor was Sir Outlake, who lay wounded by a spear thrust in the thigh. And as Sir Accolon sat with him, word was brought that Sir Damas had a champion to fight against his brother in the morning.
Then Sir Outlake was furious with his wound, for he had wanted this test of arms for a long time, but his legs were so hurt that he could not sit a horse.
Sir Accolon was confident because he had the protection of the sword Excalibur, and he offered to fight as Sir Outlake’s champion.
Then Sir Outlake was glad and he thanked Sir Accolon with all his heart for his offer, and he sent Sir Damas a message saying that his champion would fight for him.
This combat had the blessing of custom and the authority of religion. It was an appeal to God to decide which of two men was right and to show His decision in the victor. The outcome had the force of law. And because of the hatred men felt for Sir Damas and the esteem in which Sir Outlake was held, the whole countryside assembled to see the trial by arms, knights and free men, and on the fringes of the gathering bondsmen and serfs. Twelve honorable men of the country were chosen to wait upon the champions where they sat with their horses, shields dressed, visors down, and spears booted, waiting for the signal to begin. The morning sun slanted through the leaves of great oaks which surrounded the jousting ground. Mass had been sung and each champion had prayed for the decision, and now they waited.
Then a damsel rode onto the field and from under her riding cloak she drew a sword and scabbard—the counterfeit Excalibur. The damsel said, “Because of her great love for you, your sister Morgan le Fay sends you Excalibur, my lord, the sheath to protect your life and the sword to give you victory.”
“How kind my sister is,” said Arthur. “Give her my thanks and love.” And he took the false sword and belted it to his side.
Now the horn blew its savage signal, and both knights couched their spears and hurtled together, and both spears struck true and held, and both men were hurled to the ground, and they sprang up and drew their swords and faced each other. They circled and feinted, each testing the other and looking for a weakness or an opening.
And as they opened the fight, Nyneve of the Lake rode up, driving her horse fast, the same damsel who had beguiled Merlin and sealed him in the rock. The necromantic art she had wrung from the adoring old man had given her power, but also it aroused rivalry and suspicion in Morgan le Fay. Nyneve loved the king and hated his evil sister. She knew the plot against Arthur’s life and she had come at speed to save him before the combat joined and the laws against interference were applied. But she arrived late and had to watch the unequal contest, for although each knight delivered strokes and cuts, Excalibur bit deep and ripped its wounding way through Arthur’s armor, while the false sword of the king glanced harmlessly from the shield and helm of Accolon.
When Arthur felt his blood pouring from his wounds and felt the blunt uselessness of his sword, he was dismayed, and suspicion grew in him that he had been tricked. Then he was afraid, for every stroke of Accolon bit deep while Arthur’s strongest blows were impotent. The counterfeit sword in his hand was forged of base metal, soft and useless.
Now Accolon felt his advantage and pressed on, and the king struck such a furious stroke that the very weight of it staggered Accolon, who stepped away to get his breath and clear his head, but in a moment he came on again, and without art or skill the two rained strokes until Arthur bled from a hundred wounds, while Accolon was unhurt, protected by the sheath of the true Excalibur.
Then a murmur of wonder went through the circle of watchers. They saw that Arthur fought well and yet could not wound his enemy, and they were amazed that he could continue with such loss of blood. Then Arthur drew back to rest and gather his strength, but Accolon cried out in triumph, “Come! Fight. This is no time to let you rest,” and he charged forward and forced the battle so that Arthur in despair leaped in and swung a great stroke to the helm, and his sword blade broke and left only the pommel in his hand. Helpless, he covered himself with his shield while Accolon showered cuts upon him, trying to finish him. And as he attacked Sir Accolon said, “You are finished, helpless and lost. I don’t want to kill you. Surrender and give up the cause.”
The king said weakly, “I can’t. I promised to fight as long as I had life. I would rather die with honor than live in shame. If you kill an unarmed man you will never live down the shame.”
“It is not your affair to worry about my shame,” said Accolon. “You are a dead man.” And he pressed home his attack, careless of defense.
Arthur took the only possible opening. He pressed close and thrust his shield against Accolon’s sword arm and swung at his exposed helmet with the broken pommel of his sword with such force that Accolon reeled back three steps and stood swaying dizzily.
Nyneve had watched the combat hoping for the decision of God against the treason of Morgan le Fay, but when she saw Arthur’s last despairing stroke with the broken sword and Accolon recover his strength and advance on the weak and disarmed king, she knew that he was lost without her help. Then she searched her memory for Merlin’s teaching and she forged a spell and flung it with her eyes at the advancing traitor. Sir Accolon raised Excalibur, measured his distance, and aimed a deadly finishing stroke, but as the blade touched the shield, the hand that held it lost its grip and the fingers went lax. The sword fell to the ground and Accolon watched with helpless horror as Arthur picked it up. The pommel felt good in his hand and he knew it was the true Excalibur and he said, “My dear sword, you have been too long out of my hand and you have wounded me. Now, be my friend again, Excalibur.” He looked at Accolon and saw the scabbard, and leaped forward and tore it free and flung it as far as he could over the heads of the circled people.
“Now, Sir Knight,” he said to Accolon, “You have had your turn and I my wounds. Now we change places and you shall have what you have given me.” He rushed on Accolon, shield forward to raise his guard, but Accolon fell to the ground rigid with paralyzing fear. Arthur dashed off his helm and struck him on the head with the flat of Excalibur so that blood started from his nose and ears. “Now I will kill you,” said Arthur.
“That is your right,” said Sir Accolon. “I see now that God is on your side and your cause is right. But as you promised to fight to the end, so did I, and I cannot beg for mercy. Do what you will.”
Arthur looked at the unvisored face, distorted and dirtied with dust and blood, and he said, “I know your face. Who are you?”
“Sir Knight, I am of the royal court of King Arthur. My name is Accolon of Gaul.”
Then Arthur thought of the enchantment of the ship and the treachery whereby Excalibur came into his enemy’s hand, and he asked softly, “Tell me, Sir Knight, who gave you this sword?”
“The sword is my misfortune. It has brought death to me,” said Accolon.
“Whatever it has brought, where did you get it?”
Sir Accolon sighed, for the power of his promised mistress had failed and disappeared. “I see no reason now to conceal anything,” he said hopelessly. “The king’s sister hates him with a death hate because he has the crown and because he is loved and honored above her. She loves me and I love her to the point of treason. She has betrayed Sir Uryens, her husband, and been my paramour. She promised me that if I would kill Arthur with her help, she would rid herself of her husband and make me king, and she would be my queen, and we would reign in England and live in happiness.” He fell silent, remembering, and then he said, “It is all over now. My plans have invited my death.”
Arthur spoke through his closed visor. “If you had won this fight, do you know you would have been king? But how could you have contained the sin of treason against your anointed king?”
“I don’t know, Sir Knight,” said Accolon. “My mind and soul have been under a spell so that even treason seemed a nothing. But that is gone now like a dream. Tell me who you are, before I die.”
“I am your king,” said Arthur.
Then Accolon cried out in sorrow and in pain. “My lord, I did not know. I thought I fought a champion. I have been tricked as you have. Can you grant mercy to a man who has been cheated and beguiled even to plotting your death?”
The king thought long and then he said, “I can grant mercy because I believe you did not know me. I have honored Morgan le Fay, my sister, given in to her, and loved her better than my other kin. And I have trusted her more even than my wife, even though I knew her jealousy and lust of flesh and hunger for power, and even though I knew she practiced the black arts. If she could do this to me, I can believe and forgive what she has done to you. But I will not have mercy on her. My vengeance on my evil sister will be the talk of Christendom. Now rise, Sir Accolon. I have granted mercy.” Then Arthur helped him to his feet and he called to the people clustered about the field, “Come closer.” And when they had gathered around him he said, “We have fought and wounded each other sorely, but if we had known each other there would have been no combat.”
Accolon cried out, “This is the best and bravest knight in the world, but he is more than that. He is our lord and sovereign, King Arthur. By mischance I have fought against my king. He can grant mercy, but I cannot forgive myself, for there is no sin or crime worse than treason against the king.”
Then all the people kneeled down and begged for mercy.
“Mercy you shall have,” said Arthur. “You did not know. Only remember from this what strange and fatal adventures and accidents may come to errant knights. Now I am weak and wounded and I must rest, but first here is my judgment of the test of right by combat.
“Sir Damas, as your champion I have fought and won. But because you are proud and cowardly and full of villainy, hear my decision. You will give this whole manor to your brother, Sir Outlake, with all its equipment of farms and houses. He in payment will send you a palfrey every year, for you are better fit to ride a lady’s hackney than a war horse. I charge you on pain of death never to distress or injure knights errant who ride through your lands. As for the twenty knights in prison, you will return their armor and any other things you have taken from them. And if any of them comes to my court to complain of you, you shall die. That is my judgment.”
Then Arthur, weak from loss of blood, turned to Sir Outlake. “Because you are a good knight, brave and true and courteous, I charge you to come to my court to be my knight, and I shall so favor you that you will live in comfort and in honor.”
“Thank you, my lord,” said Sir Outlake. “I am at your command. Only be sure, sir, that if I had not been wounded I would have fought my own combat.”
“I wish it had been so,” said Arthur, “for then I would not have been so hurt, and hurt by treachery and enchantment by one near to me.”
Sir Outlake said, “I can’t imagine anyone plotting against you, my lord.”
“I will deal with that person,” said the king. “Now, how far am I from Camelot?”
“Two days’ journey,” said Outlake. “Too far to travel with your wounds. Three miles from here there is an abbey with nuns to care for you, and learned men to heal your wounds.”
“I will go there to rest,” said the king, and he called farewell to the people and helped Sir Accolon to his horse, and mounted and rode slowly away.
At the abbey their wounds were cleansed and cared for with the best-known salves and unguents, but within four days Sir Accolon died of the terrible last wound on his unshielded head.
Then Arthur ordered his body to be taken to Camelot by six knights and delivered to Morgan le Fay. He said, “Tell my dear sister I send him to her as a present in payment for her kindness to me.”
Meanwhile, Morgan believed her plan had been carried out and the king killed with his own sword. The time had come, she thought, to rid herself of her husband, Sir Uryens. In the night she waited until he was asleep and then called a maiden who attended her. “Fetch me my lord’s sword,” she said. “There will never be a better time to kill him.”
The maid cried out in terror, “If you kill your husband, you will never escape.”
“That is not your worry,” Morgan said. “Go quickly and bring the sword.”
Then in fear the damsel crept to the bed of Sir Ewain, Morgan’s son, and she awakened him. “Get up,” she whispered. “Your mother is going to kill your father in his sleep. She has sent me for a sword.”
Ewain started awake and rubbed his eyes, and then he said quietly, “Obey her orders. Get the sword. I will take care of it,” and he slipped from his bed and armed himself and crept along dark corridors and hid himself in his father’s room.
The damsel brought the sword with shaking hands, and Morgan le Fay took it from her and boldly she stood over her sleeping husband, coldly judging the proper place to drive in the blade. When she raised the sword to strike, Sir Ewain leaped from his hiding place and caught her wrist and held her, struggling. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “It is said that Merlin was sired by a fiend. You must be an earthly fiend. If you were not my mother, I would kill you.”
But Morgan trapped was doubly dangerous. She stared wildly about as though awakened suddenly. “What is this?” she cried. “Where am I? What is this sword?—Oh, my son, protect me! Some evil spirit has entered while I slept. Have mercy on me, my son. Do not tell of this. Protect my honor. It is your honor, too.”
Sir Ewain said reluctantly, “I will forgive you if you promise to give up your magic crafts.”
“I promise,” said Morgan. “I will swear it. You are my good son, my dear son.” Then Ewain, half-believing, released her and took the sword away.
In the morning one of her secret people brought news to Morgan le Fay that her plan had failed. Sir Accolon was dead and Arthur, alive, had Excalibur again. Inwardly she raged against her brother and mourned the death of Accolon, but her face was cold and composed and she showed no anger or fear or shed any open tears for her lover. She well knew that if she stayed for the king’s return her life was forfeit, for there could be no clemency for her unmentionable crime against her brother and her king.
Morgan went sweetly to Queen Guinevere and asked permission to leave the court.
“Can you not wait until your brother, the king, comes home?” asked Guinevere.
“I wish I might, but I cannot,” said Morgan. “Bad news has come of revolt on my estates and I must go.”
“In that case you may go,” said the queen.
Then in the dark, before morning, Morgan le Fay assembled forty trusted followers and she rode out and gave no rest to horse or man for a day and a night. And early on the second morning she came to the abbey where she knew King Arthur lay.
She entered boldly and demanded to see her brother, and a nun replied, “He is sleeping now at last. For three nights his wounds have given him little rest.”
“Do not awaken him,” said Morgan. “I will go quietly to see my brother’s dear face.” And she dismounted and went inside with such authority that no one dared stop the sister of the king.
She found his room and saw by a small rush light that the king lay on his bed asleep, but his hand gripped the handle of Excalibur and its naked blade lay beside him on the bed. Morgan did not dare to take the sword for fear he might awaken, for he slept restlessly. But on a chest nearby she saw the scabbard and slipped it under her cloak and went out thanking the nuns, and she mounted and rode away with speed.
When the king awakened, he missed his scabbard. “Who has taken it?” he demanded angrily. “Who has been here?”
“Only your sister Morgan le Fay, and she has gone.”
“You have not guarded me,” he cried. “She has taken my scabbard.”
“Sir,” said the nuns, “we could not disobey your sister.”
Then Arthur struggled from his bed and ordered the best horse to be found, and he asked Sir Outlake to arm and come with him, and the two galloped after Morgan.
At a wayside cross they asked a cowherd if he had seen a lady pass.
“Aye, that I did,” he said. “A little time ago she went riding by and forty horsemen with her. They rode toward yonder forest.”
Then Arthur and Sir Outlake gave chase, and in a short time they sighted her and whipped up their horses.
Morgan saw them coming and she drove her horse through the forest and out on an open plain beyond it, and when she saw the pursuers gaining on her, she spurred her horse into a little lake. “Whatever happens to me, he shall not have this sheath to protect him,” she said, and she threw the scabbard as far out as she could in the water. It was heavy with gold and cut jewels and sank quickly out of sight.
Then she rejoined her men and galloped on into a valley where there were rings of great standing stones. And Morgan cast enchantment so that her men and she became tall stones like the others. When Arthur entered the valley and saw the stones, he said, “She has drawn the vengeance of God on her. My vengeance is not needed.” He looked about on the ground for his scabbard and could not find it, for it was in the lake. And after a time he rode slowly back toward the abbey.
As soon as he had gone, Morgan le Fay resumed her form and freed her men from the skins of stone. “Now you are free,” she said, “but did you see the king’s face?”
“We did, and it was icy rage. If we had not been turned to stone we would have run away.”
“I believe you would,” said she.
They took up their march again, and on their way they met a knight leading a prisoner bound and blindfolded.
“What are you doing with that knight?” Morgan asked.
“I am going to drown him. I found him with my wife. And I will drown her too.”
Morgan asked the prisoner, “Is this true what he says?”
“No, madame, it is not true.”
“Where do you come from? What is your name?” she asked.
“I am of King Arthur’s court,” he said. “My name is Manessen. I am Sir Accolon’s cousin.”
Morgan le Fay said, “I loved Sir Accolon. In his memory I shall deliver you to do to this man what he would have done to you.”
Her men unbound him and tied the other with the same cords. Sir Manessen put on the armor and weapons of his captor and took him to a deep spring and threw him in. Then he returned to Morgan. “I will return to Arthur’s court. Have you any message for him?”
She smiled bitterly. “I have,” she said. “Tell my dear brother that I rescued you not for love of him but for love of Accolon. And tell him I have no fear of him, for I can turn myself and my followers into stones. Lastly, tell him I can do much more than that and I will prove it to him when the time comes.”
She went to her lands in the country of Gore, and she strengthened her castles and towns, and armed and provisioned them, because in spite of her brave message she lived in fear of King Arthur.
