MY LORD BISHOP ROCHESTER,” SAYS SIR LANCELOT. “Have you ridden far?”
The bishop looks his cloak up and down. Covered with spots of mud.
“From King Arthur’s court at Carlisle,” he says. “I have here a letter from Rome. The Holy Father charges King Arthur to take Guinevere as his queen again, and make peace with you. He warns the king he will excommunicate everyone living in Britain if he fails to do so.”
“What does the king say?” Sir Lancelot asks.
“Here is his Great Seal—his assurance of safe conduct when you bring the queen back to court—and his letter undertaking to bury what’s past.”
“I never wanted to separate the queen from the king, but simply to save her life,” Sir Lancelot says. “God be praised the Pope has intervened. I’ll be a thousand times happier to ride Guinevere back to Carlisle than I was to take her away. But if anyone—”
The Bishop of Rochester waves his hand. “Fear nothing!” he says. “The Pope’s word is divine law. It’s not his intention, or mine, to see the queen shamed or you angered.”
“And will the king also make peace with me?” Sir Lancelot asks.
“That’s what he longs for. He says there has been enough suffering already. But Sir Gawain will not hear of it. You slew Gareth, the brother he loved best. He says he’ll hound and harry you until one of you has killed the other.”
Sir Lancelot sighs. “Tell King Arthur,” he says, “that eight days hence I will bring Queen Guinevere to him.”
Queen Guinevere and Sir Lancelot ride their horses into the great courtyard at Carlisle, where Guinevere was tied to the stake and scorching flames lapped around her ankles.
One hundred knights and twenty-four ladies follow them, each holding an olive branch. They’re all wearing green velvet and gold chains, and so are their horses, right down to their fetlocks. But the queen and Sir Lancelot are both dressed in cloth of gold.
Sir Lancelot and the queen dismount. He takes her right arm, and they walk up to the king.
Arthur-in-the-stone glares at them. He doesn’t move. Not one muscle. He says nothing.
“My king,” Sir Lancelot says loudly, “as the Pope requires and as you command me, I’ve brought back your queen. Queen Guinevere is loyal. But you’ve listened to libelers and slanderers; you’ve believed jealous liars. It’s they who are disloyal, not your queen. Not I.”
“You’re a traitor!” Sir Gawain shouts.
“Where is Sir Mordred?” Sir Lancelot demands.
“Away!” replies Sir Gawain. “At Camelot.”
“The only survivor,” Sir Lancelot says. “If God were not on my side, how could I have fought fourteen armed knights?”
“Sir Lancelot,” says the king. “You have been my knight of knights. I’ve always praised you and honored you. I’ve given you no cause, no reason whatsoever, to do as you have done.”
Sir Lancelot turns to Sir Gawain. “The king well knows how I’ve served him,” he tells him, “and you should remember it too. You should remember our close friendship. If I had your good will, I would have his as well.”
“The king can do as he likes,” Sir Gawain says. “You and I will never make peace. You have killed three of my brothers, and my two sons.”
“I loved Gareth and he loved me,” Sir Lancelot says, shaking his head. “I knighted him: He was noble and courteous. But he was unarmed. Gaheris and Florence and Lovel were unarmed. I never meant to kill them.”
Sir Gawain says nothing.
The king says nothing.
“Even so,” Sir Lancelot tells the king and Sir Gawain, “I’ll do penance. I’ll walk barefoot from Sandwich to Carlisle, and each ten miles I’ll found a friary or a convent where monks and nuns pray for Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris and your sons. I will have them built, and fund them.”
Still King Arthur and Sir Gawain say nothing.
“Surely this will be a better memorial than conflict between us,” says Sir Lancelot.
The cheeks of many of the knights and ladies in the courtyard are glistening.
“I’ve heard you, and all your offers,” Sir Gawain replies, “and I’ve heard enough. The king will do as he wishes, but I’ll never forgive you for killing Sir Gareth. If the king forgives you, I’ll leave court. I’ll no longer serve him.”
“Gawain…,” Sir Lancelot begins.
“No!” says Sir Gawain. “The time for words is past. You have safe conduct here, but you must leave England within fifteen days. You must go to your estates in France. You’ve betrayed the king; you’ve betrayed me. Fifteen days, and then I will come after you.”
“I wish I had never come to the court of King Arthur,” Sir Lancelot says, “if I’m now to be banished—in disgrace. But the Wheel of Fortune that raises us also hurls us down.” Sir Lancelot steps towards the king. “I have been your knight of knights,” he says. “Not least because of me our Round Table has been honored and feared throughout this middle-earth.”
“There’ll be nowhere for you to hide,” Sir Gawain says.
“Hide?” retorts Sir Lancelot. “I’ll be waiting for you in France.”
“Enough!” growls Sir Gawain. “Set the queen free! Leave this court!”
Sir Lancelot turns to face Queen Guinevere, and she turns to him. I can see her chestnut eyes. The little yellow flecks in them. The quills of her eyebrows. Proud and unblinking, she returns her knight’s gaze.
“My lady,” Sir Lancelot says so that everyone can hear. “Now I must leave you and this fine fellowship forever.” He comes close to the queen and lowers his voice. “Pray for me. Speak well of me. And if any false tongues threaten you, send for me at once. I’ll rescue you.”
Sir Lancelot kisses the queen.
Her eyes are brimming now. She clutches his right wrist. She mouths words for him alone.
Sir Lancelot lifts his voice again. “Is there anyone here who accuses the queen of being untrue to King Arthur? Let’s see who dares speak.”
Sir Lancelot takes Queen Guinevere’s right arm and ushers her towards her king. He inclines his head; he turns away.
The king is weeping. Everyone in the courtyard is in tears. Everyone except Sir Gawain.