Arthur Rex by Thomas Berger
But no one could have seen in what Sir Percival was his inferior, and sometimes Percival would hack one German in twain with his sword whilst seizing another around the neck-armor and breaking off his head in the crook of his mighty arm. And Sir Percival, who was a naïve knight, did take no pleasure nor pain from this fight, but he did merely what he believed he ought to do as a knight of the Round Table. And withal he found time to worry about his sick friend Sir Galahad, and oft, having cleared his portion of the field of Saxons, he went within Stonehenge where Galahad lay and he bathed his friend’s head with cool water and he cleansed his chin and breast of the blood he had coughed out. And having done this Sir Percival would return to the fray.
Now at length Sir Launcelot had been so invigorated by the fighting as marvelously to cure the grievous wounds of his right arm, the which he had received from Mordred and then again in the fight with Sir Gawaine, and he was quite whole. And some of the Saxons raised some horses which had fallen, and they remounted and they charged upon the remnant of the knights of the Round Table. And Sir Launcelot from the ground killed one of these mounted Germans, and he took his steed and his lance, the which had a trimming of fur beneath its steel head, and with it he soon slew all of the riders.
Now at just that time Sir Galahad did awaken from his swoon and he heard the din of battle, and though he was grievous weak he knew his duty and therefore he put on his armor, the which was clear and shining, for it had never been used, and he took up his shield, which was pure white and with a red cross upon it, and his horse had been tethered behind the stones, and he mounted it.
And then he rode onto the field, on which there was, far off, but one mounted man amidst a waste of fallen bodies of men and horses, and in the middle distance were a few of King Arthur’s knights and they were fighting an horde of Saxons on foot. And Sir Galahad rode his horse carefully through the corses until he found a clear place, and he could see that the other rider was a German from his round shield and his fur-tipped lance, and when he was two hundred yards from him he put his lance in fewter and he spurred his horse and he charged upon him.
Now Sir Launcelot was amazed to see a mounted knight come from nowhere wearing shining armor, for all here, friend or foe, if yet standing were covered with red gore and their armor was all hacked and broken. And soon he came to believe that this knight was the vile Sir Mordred, who had cowardly hidden himself after starting this battle, for he had looked everywhere for him, to kill him so that he could do no more harm to King Arthur. And as if he did not hate him enough, Sir Launcelot was incensed that such a felon would display upon his shield an Holy Cross.
Therefore he put his own lance in the rest and he spurred his beast, and thus the two greatest knights in the history of the world did charge each other, and they were father and son, though neither knew it.
And never did Sir Launcelot have more prowess than at that moment, and never was Sir Galahad weaker, and he had barely the strength to hold himself in the saddle while supporting the lance, yet he persisted in his duty to fight this vicious enemy of virtue (as he mistakenly supposed him).
Now when they met there was such a tremendous shock as to shake the earth so that it cracked open for an instant and the smoke and fumes of Hell poured reeking forth and a near-by river turned to steam and for ten leagues about the trees lost all their bark and their leaves and all the birds were hurled lifeless to the earth, and the giants in the distant mountains were shaken by such a violent tremor that they were transformed into dwarfs (and never afterward was a giant seen in all of Britain). And so far away as at London shooting stars were seen in broad daylight and horses screamed like peacocks and cats did kill and eat dogs.
And Sir Launcelot’s lance brake against the red cross of Sir Galahad’s shield, but Sir Galahad’s steel point went through the ironbound Saxon shield as though it were made of straw, and then it penetrated his father’s breastplate and the chain mail beneath, and through his skin and flesh and bones, and then through his stout heart and tore it from his body.
And Sir Launcelot plunged dead to the earth.
And with this effort Sir Galahad had exhausted all the strength he would ever have, and he fell beside his father and he could not get up.
Now from where he fought afoot, Sir Percival saw this charge and he recognized both knights (for no one sat a horse like the great Launcelot, despite his foreign shield and lance), but Percival was too far away for them to hear his cry of anguish. And therefore he watched Sir Galahad slay his father unwittingly, and then he saw him fall himself. And then Sir Percival went to that place.
“Well, Percival my friend,” said Sir Galahad, “I have been of little use here today, God wot!”
“Do not speak so,” said Sir Percival. “Thou hast felled thy man! I knew this Saxon, Galahad, when I traveled in Germany, and there was no fiercer knight in all the world. Till now he was invincible.”
“Ah, Percival, thou must not tell kind lies to thy dear friend when he is dying,” said Galahad.
And Sir Percival did have great grief in his heart, and he cursed himself for his naïvete which made him a poor dissembler.
But then what Sir Galahad said was this. “Nay, Percival, he was not much of a knight, methinks, even for a Saxon, and he put but the tiniest scratch on my shield, whereas I slew him with a lance the which I could hardly keep steady! Nay, my friend, I have done nothing which I should be proud to have my father know of.”
And then Sir Galahad coughed terribly and he could hardly breathe thereafter. And then feebly he said, “My dear friend, I had hoped to see my father once before I died. Is he upon the field?”
And striving to keep back his tears Sir Percival held his friend in his arms, and he said, “Yea, Galahad, Sir Launcelot doth live! For where could he ever meet his match on the entire earth! Rest here awhile, for he must deal with the remaining felons, and I must go to join him. Then I shall fetch him to thee.”
And Sir Galahad smiled, and he said, “Tell him I could not tarry, and one day I shall kiss him in Heaven.” And then he died.
Now Sir Percival knelt between the bodies of his friends and he wept hot tears, and whilst he knelt there in his grief a Saxon came upon him unawares, and he raised his great iron battle-ax as high as he could reach and he brought it down upon the unguarded back of Sir Percival, and he struck him so hard with it that the edge of the blade came out of his breastplate.
And Sir Percival was so sore hurt that he could not rise nor lift his sword, and lying on the ground he seized the ankle of that Saxon, and he squeezed it so hard as to crush the iron greave and then the flesh and the bones therein, and a blackness climbed the German’s leg and it went through his entire body and reached his brain, and he rotted throughout his person and he gave up the ghost.
And in his dying moments Sir Percival had so great a strength. And then he went to Heaven to join all of his brave friends.
And soon he was joined by all the remainder of the noble company of the Round Table, for in killing the last Saxons they all but one met death themselves, and that remaining one was Sir Bedivere. And Sir Kay lost his life after becoming the great hero he had always yearned to be, and he was a great seneschal and an incomparable warrior as well!
Now Sir Bedivere, who was wounded in six places but could still walk, did survey the field of blood and he found no one standing to oppose him, and therefore he at last dropped his sword, which from use had been worn down to a little stub. And then he went to look for the body of King Arthur, whom he had seen struck down by Mordred at the beginning of the day, and everywhere he went he saw his dead friends, and each was surrounded by scores of dead barbarians, and where sirs Launcelot and Percival had fought there were thousands of Saxon corses.
But King Arthur was not amongst these dead, for he had arisen after seeing the vision of the Lady of the Lake during his swoon, and he had gone to seek Mordred.
Now seeing his father rise Sir Mordred in great fear had run over an hill and into a v
And there he cowered as his father the king came over the hill, and to him King Arthur seemed eight feet high. And in his fear Sir Mordred took off his sword and he flung it far away from him, so that he would be unarmed.
And when King Arthur reached him Mordred cried out that he was defenseless. And to be even more piteous he tore off his helmet and his breastplate, and he bared his bosom.
And he cried, “Father! Shall you kill your only son?”
And King Arthur said, “Mordred, I must.”
Then Mordred howled and he wept in great gasps and he fell upon his knees. And raising his clasped hands he implored his father to spare the life which he had created from his loins, and he chided him for the injustice he would do.
“Nay,” said King Arthur, “do not speak further of justice, Mordred, for thou hast had thine! Didst thou not get the first stroke, and with mine own sword?”
And now Mordred thought he heard some faint hope in these words and he believed that he might detain his father’s hand by clouding his reason.
“Yea, Father,” said he, “but was my intention not, by wounding you slightly, to preserve you from this battle in which all others were killed?”
“Nay,” said King Arthur. “Thy blow was too fierce.”
“Well then,” said Mordred, “was it not to prove your immortality?”
“Then thou hast failed,” said King Arthur, “for I am dying.” And even as he spoke he began to bleed copiously from his bosom.
And then Mordred said smiling, “Yea, Father, I did it so that you might join God and His Son in Heaven, and take the Round Table there with all of your noble knights, for you have done your duty on earth.”
And King Arthur lowered his sword that he had raised, and he thought about this, and at length he turned away from Mordred. And seeing this Mordred believed he had convinced him not to kill him, and began to rise from his knees.
But he got only a little way up, for King Arthur had turned only to make a greater swing with Excalibur, and he cut through Mordred’s neck so swiftly that his head stayed in place thereafter and his smile did not fade until he opened his lips to thank his father for sparing his life, and only then did the head first tremble slightly, then a great deal, and it wobbled violently and finally it fell from his shoulders and onto the earth.
And then King Arthur climbed the hill and he left that place. And at the top of the hill he met Sir Bedivere, who was the sole survivor of all of his company.
Now King Arthur had gone almost blind, for his death was upon him, and he asked Sir Bedivere to lead him to the lake that was near by. And from him Sir Bedivere concealed his own wounds, which were mortal as well, and he pretended to be hale.
“Yea, Sire,” said he, “I shall wash your hurt with the cool water, and doubtless you shall soon be cured.”
“Thine arm, Bedivere,” said King Arthur, “and spare me thy physic. Nothing is sanguine now, when all is sanguinary.”
But Sir Bedivere, who could accept his own mortality, could not believe that his king was dying. Nor did he believe that there was a lake near by, but very soon they reached a height, below which he saw a lake of some magnitude, and he asked King Arthur to rest whilst he went and fetched some water. But King Arthur, who had not sheathed Excalibur again after killing Mordred, now gave that great sword to his only surviving knight, and to him he said, “Fling this, with all thy strength, into the center of the lake.”
Now to humor his sick king Bedivere took Excalibur from him, but he then laid it quietly in the grass, and he took up a stone that was there and he threw this into the water below.
And King Arthur could not see him, and when he heard the splash he said to Bedivere, “Tell me what hath happened.”
And Sir Bedivere said, “The sword hath fallen to the bottom of the lake.”
“O egregious liar!” exclaimed King Arthur. “Hast thou not obeyed thy king?”
And Sir Bedivere hung his head, and he said, “Your pardon, Sire.” And picking up another stone, much larger than the other, he threw it into the water. “Now ’tis done, and Excalibur hath gone down amongst the slimy fishes.”
And King Arthur had never been so wroth. “O contumacious wretch!” said he. “Twice hast thou disobeyed me criminally!”
Now Sir Bedivere was the most loyal knight who had ever lived, and he was attending his king though so badly hurt he should have died long since.
And he protested, “Great Arthur, abuse me if you will, but I can never discard your Excalibur!”
“’Twas never mine own,” said King Arthur, “but rather it was lent to me for a while, and now I must return it, and then I must return my life, which was on loan as well. Now, Bedivere, thou must do that for which thou shalt be remembered forever.”
And with his remaining strength Sir Bedivere picked up Excalibur from the ground and he flung it out over the center of the lake. And as it fell through the air a hand did arise from the water, and its forearm was clothed in gleaming white samite, and it caught the sword, and then it brandished it once as if in triumph, and then hand and sword disappeared beneath the surface of the water and all was as it had been before.
And when Sir Bedivere told King Arthur what had happened the king was satisfied at last.
And he said, “Dear Bedivere, thou hast done the first part of thy last duty. Now it only remaineth that thou conduct me to the shore.”
And King Arthur had become so weak that he could no longer walk, and therefore Sir Bedivere, who was himself grievously wounded, must needs take King Arthur upon his back. And so he carried him down to the lake.
And when they reached the shore Sir Bedivere saw marveling that a barge was waiting there, and in this barge were three ladies, and they were veiled in black.
And King Arthur commanded Sir Bedivere to take him on board and to lay him down there, and this he did. And one of these ladies took the king’s head into her lap, and another his back, and the third, his legs.
“Loyal Bedivere,” then said King Arthur, “forgive me for speaking harshly to thee on the matter of Excalibur, for I know that thou wert no disobedient wretch and that thy reluctance to dispose of the sword was with the best intent. But we are done now with what we did, and I must go away.”
And Sir Bedivere made much grief, and he said weeping, “Sire, can it be? We have won the field and our enemies are all vanquished. True, there are but you and me remaining, and I am not much. But you, great Arthur, can collect more knights and fill the Table once more!”
“Nay, Bedivere, not in this phase of the world,” said King Arthur, “for there now hath come an end to Britain as we knew it, and in the darkening epoch to come, we should with our chivalrous principles be seen but as a quaint curiosity. The time of the caitiff be upon the world, and who can say when it will end? Dost suppose a Launcelot will come soon again? A Tristram, or a Gawaine? Or a Kay, that great man who by force of will alone made himself a knight of the greatest prowess? Or for that matter, my dear friend, a Bedivere, who dying himself can carry his king down a precipitous slope? When will the world ever again know such a company as that of my incomparable knights?”
And King Arthur stretched out his hand to Sir Bedivere, and he said, “Do not weep, my friend.” For though he could not see him he could hear the falling of his tears. “Rather thank God in joy that for a little while we were able to make an interregnum in the human cycle of barbarism and decadence.”
And Sir Bedivere clasped King Arthur’s hand and then he went back to the shore, and he watched the barge move slowly away, and the lake seemed to stretch into a sea, and a fog came towards the barge and obscured it and the shrouded figures thereupon.
Then Sir Bedivere laid down and died a happy death, for he did not feel that he had lived in futility.
BOOK XXIII
Of the opinion of some men as to the whereabouts of King Art
NOW WHERE THE VEILED ladies took King Arthur was to the Isle of Avalon, and that isle hath never been found, and whether he died and was buried or liveth yet, no man knoweth, though some say he will return when the world is ready once more to celebrate honor and bravery and nobility, but methinks that is a long time yet.
And some say he is buried and on his tomb doth appear this legend,
HIC IACET ARTHURUS REX QUONDAM REXQUE FUTURUS.
And this is hopeful. But as a great knight hath written, “Yet I woll nat say that hit shall be so, but rather I wolde sey: here in thys worlde he chaunged hys lyff.”
And it can be said that no one, however mean or base, hath forgotten him, and even amongst the Angles and the Saxons he is remembered as the greatest king who ever lived, and to all men he remaineth the virile model.
BOOK XXIV
Of the ladies who carried King Arthur away, and who survived him; and of the moral of this story.
NOW TO ALL THE ladies of the world Guinevere and Morgan la Fey and the Lady of the Lake are exemplary, and these were the three who took King Arthur away in the barge, the not-so-wicked, the not-so-virtuous, and the supernatural. And as for Queen Guinevere it hath been said that she enclosed herself in the convent of the Little Sisters of Poverty and Pain, where her sister-in-law was the mother superior, but I do not know if this be true, for others say she did become Britomart, who was a female knight of great prowess.
But in these fair laps we must leave King Arthur, who was never historical, but everything he did was true.
A Biography of Thomas Berger
Thomas Louis Berger (b. 1924) is an American novelist best known for his picaresque classic, Little Big Man (1964). His other works include Arthur Rex (1978), Neighbors (1980), and The Feud (1983), which was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize.