Arthurian Legends E-Book

Rosalind Kerven

• Herausgeber: Batsford
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 251

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

The definitive book of stories from Arthurian legend. Delve into the enchanted world of Arthurian legends where you will meet the Knights of the Round Table, Wizard Merlin, King Arthur and Queen Guinevere. With plots full of romance, adventure and enchantment, these fascinating ancient tales have been revived by the author to reflect their origins in oral history and will appeal to a whole new generation of readers. Stories include Elaine Who Loved Sir Lancelot, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Tristan and Isolde and The Enchantment of Merlin, many of which have recently been adapted in modern cinema and remain a fascination within contemporary culture. The book also features detailed notes on each story and mentions specific places in Britain with Arthurian links, including properties such as Tintagel. Beautifully illustrated with images inspired by Arthurian legend by Arthur Rackham and others.

Leseprobe

First published in the United Kingdom in 2011 by National Trust Books, This edition first published in the United Kingdom in 2019 by Batsford, an imprint of Pavilion Books Company Ltd 43 Great Ormond Street, London WC1N 3HZ

Copyright © Batsford 2011, 2019 Text copyright © Rosalind Kerven 2011, 2019

The moral right of Rosalind Kerven to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

eBook ISBN: 978-1-84994-618-6

The print edition of this book can be ordered direct from the publisher at the website www.pavilionbooks.com, or try your local bookshop.

CONTENTS

The Coming of King Arthur

The Enchantment of Merlin

How Culhwch Won Olwen

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

Tristram and Isolde

Elaine who Loved Sir Lancelot

The End of the Golden Age

NOTES ON THE STORIES

The Coming of King Arthur

The Enchantment of Merlin

How Culhwch Won Olwen

Sir Gawain and The Green Knight

Tristram and Isolde

Elaine Who Loved Sir Lancelot

The End of The Golden Age

Sources and Complete List of Works Consulted

Picture Credits

NOTE

These stories were first written down during the Middle Ages. However, their roots lie in much older, oral storytelling tradition, so that there are many different versions of each one.

Arthur was High King over the numerous smaller realms that made up Britain. The other kings who appear in these tales were thus not rivals to him, but all reigned under his ultimate authority.

THE COMING OF KING ARTHUR

THE COMING OF KING ARTHUR

ritain was a broken country: a wasteland of anarchy, conflict and fear.

Its towns had crumbled into weed-infested ruins and its churches had been pillaged: learning, law and God’s word were all but forgotten and shunned. Only the foolhardy dared to travel, for the overgrown, potholed roads were constantly plagued by bandits. The Great Forest ran wild, its fences long fallen under winter storms, choking the fields with brambles, bringing ever closer the bone-chilling howl of the wolf. Waves of barbaric invaders swarmed into this turmoil, seizing everything of value, defiling the women and burning down all the farms.

For a while, the country’s numerous petty kingdoms clung together in a loose alliance under High King Uther Pendragon. But when Uther died, he neither left an heir, nor named a successor. So a bitter, futile, bloody war broke out for the crown, crushing the people with despair and terror.

Then unsettling rumours began to spread like wildfire. They claimed that a bizarre man – a charismatic, wind-battered, greybeard – was wandering through the derelict towns and highways. It was whispered that he was a wizard who had emerged from some lost corner of the forest; that his father was a demon; and that he could read the future, speak in tongues and pass freely in and out of the hidden faery realms. His name was Merlin. Everyone was in awe of him.

As the endless battles raged, Merlin turned up in London, ranting about destiny and mysterious omens. It was impossible to ignore him: even the most savage thugs stopped in their tracks to listen. He told of a miraculous sword, thrust deep into a marble stone in the grounds of London’s Great Church; and announced a contest to see if anyone could pull it free. He prophesied that only one man in the whole world would be able to achieve this – and that whoever he was, that man was the rightful new High King.

The day of this contest dawned. Hundreds of warriors, warlords and thugs thronged into the churchyard, jostling greedily for turns to try to pull the sword from the stone. But it was so tightly lodged that even the brawniest could not shift it. The air filled with menacing complaints that Merlin had hoodwinked them.

Suddenly, an unknown youth pushed his way to the front. He gave his name as Arthur. Then he strode towards the marble stone, gripped the sword and pulled on it with effortless grace. At once, the sword slipped free!

Outrage thundered around the churchyard. Who was this brazen, smooth-chinned upstart? How dare he claim the crown they had all coveted for so long! The ill-favoured throng surged towards Arthur, brandishing spears, swords, knives, axes and slings.

But he was ready for them. He struck back with the miraculous sword, fearlessly, nimbly, deflecting every blow, fighting in all directions at once. His opponents had never encountered anyone like him, let alone one so young! They tried to overwhelm him by shouting unreasonable demands and distracting him with tricks, but Arthur kept his grip on the fight and easily outwitted them all. Gradually, their resentment turned to grudging admiration. As the moon rose over the gathering darkness, they unanimously acknowledged him as victor.

So Arthur was crowned High King of all Britain. Under the wise guidance of Merlin, he made his court at Camelot, and his fame spread far and wide, even across the sea. He had a flair for inspiration and generosity, distributing such rich parcels of land and treasure to all his old enemies that everyone clamoured to be at his side. Together they expelled or slew all the foreign barbarians, and strengthened the defences to prevent any more invasions. For the first time in many decades, Britain was blessed with plenty, prosperity and peace.

Arthur matured into a magnificent king: bountiful, tireless and infinitely hospitable. His guiding light was God. His only ambitions were for harmony, virtue and glory. He married a beautiful, intelligent, high-spirited lady called Guinevere, who was in every way his equal. On their wedding day her father, King Leodegrance of Camelerd, presented them with a magnificent table, crafted from an ancient oak tree and shaped as round as the sun. No sooner had Arthur installed this in his hall, than many exceptional warriors began to arrive at Camelot, offering to sit at this Round Table and serve as his loyal and noble knights.

A nymph from the faery realms gifted Arthur a magnificent sword called Excalibur, and a magic scabbard to protect him from all wounds. With these he became truly invincible, and victorious in every war he entered. The whole of Europe submitted to him, and Arthur was crowned Emperor of Rome.

After this triumph, he returned to Camelot and from there he ruled zealously and joyfully for many years. His reputation towered above his peers. Queen Guinevere too was much admired and loved: her influence softened Arthur’s belligerence and inspired his followers to more gentle chivalry. The Knights of the Round Table became as acclaimed as Arthur himself, ever willing to defend their country and its good citizens to the death. The court at Camelot became the envy of the world for its dancing, hunting parties and feasts.

It was truly a Golden Age!

THE ENCHANTMENT OF MERLIN

THE ENCHANTMENT OF MERLIN

n the ruinous years long before King Arthur was crowned, the Great Forest’s tangled roots and branches crept far across the broken land. Few people ever dared to enter it, for fear of the wild beasts and vagrants said to lurk amongst its overgrown, labyrinthine paths. Moreover, it was rumoured that some of the crevasses, pools and decaying wells that riddled the forest were really hidden doorways; and that unwary travellers might fall through these into the perilous faery realms.

At that time, the great wizard and soothsayer Merlin came down from the Welsh mountains in a frenzy of madness. Fearing neither predators nor enchantments, he entered the Great Forest and wandered alone through it, visiting every glade, thicket and corner; feasting on toadstools; burrowing into the ground to sleep like an animal. He searched and he watched; he stood on hilltops and read the stars. Season by season, the forest’s green stillness seeped into his blood, filling his mind with wondrous visions.

These led him through endless stands of entangled, lichen-covered trees to the shores of a lake, thickly shrouded in mist. Merlin waited there patiently for many hours and days, watching the swirling vapours until slowly they crystallised into a female figure of improbable grace and loveliness.

As she came drifting towards him over the water, he called to her, ‘Lady! Grant me a boon!’

‘Who are you, daring to demand such a thing?’ the Lady of the Lake answered; and her voice was sweet as a breath of wind running through summer grasses.

‘Oh, it is not for me, Lady,’ said Merlin. He stepped closer to the shoreline, letting the water lap over his battered boots. ‘I ask this for one who is not yet even born. He will need it, Lady, to fulfil his destiny.’

‘How can that be, old man?’ she said.

‘I have dreamed the future,’ Merlin replied, ‘and seen your role within it, Lady. For one day my powers will grow strong enough to move God’s hand. Bitter wars will be fought. Reckless lust will be satiated, causing a child to be born in the darkness. He will rise to become an extraordinary king. He is the one who needs your gift.’

The Lady of the Lake considered his words. Then she said, ‘If your prophesy is false, old wizard, or if this king proves treacherous to his people, may the wilderness swallow you up for the sin of blasphemy! But if it proves true and the king you speak of is indeed crowned – then bring him to me! Meanwhile, I will go far across the water and beyond the mist, to the island of Avalon. There I will search for something fitting for such a hero. I shall bring it back to this lake, and wait for him to come.’

The lady turned and shimmered and faded. Soon she had completely vanished. Merlin stood alone again on the shore beneath the trees, his sagging belly rumbling with hunger and his eyes brimming with tears.

Years passed. Merlin used his weird powers to oversee the wars and passion that led to the birth of Arthur, then brought him to the throne of Britain. When Arthur became the greatest king in Christendom, the old wizard’s prophesy was fulfilled. He stayed close to the young king’s side, always ready to help him with wise advice.

Content and secure under Arthur’s rule, the people of Britain built strong new fences that kept the Great Forest at bay. But Merlin pined for it. He often spoke of it in riddles to Arthur, hinting that soon they must visit it together and seek out the gift promised him by the mysterious lady.

At last he rode with Arthur deep into the trees, to the lonely shores of the lake. The old wizard had judged the hour exactly, for the lady was already waiting for them there, soft upon the water.

A little boat was moored by the shoreline. She called Arthur to row it towards her. Then she gave to him the magnificent sword Excalibur, which she had brought for him from the mysterious land of Avalon, encased in a scabbard enchanted to protect him from wounding. But she paid no heed to Merlin.

From then on, Arthur consulted Merlin less and less, relying increasingly on his own resources and growing wisdom. Merlin did not complain, but spent ever more time poring over his ancient books and runes, fasting and studying the stars.

One day he went to Arthur, saying, ‘I have come to bid you farewell forever.’

Arthur was shocked, and overcome by sorrow. ‘But where are you going?’ he said. ‘Can your journey really be so hazardous that your occult skills cannot ensure your safe return?’

‘Alas, Arthur,’ the wizard answered, ‘those skills are melting away under a force so great that even I have no power to oppose it. My fate is written among the planets: I am cursed.’

‘Whatever is this dark force that has such a hold on you?’ King Arthur exclaimed. ‘You assured me long ago, Merlin, that the demon who fathered you can no longer touch you, and it is clear to all who know you that God walks at your side. Knowledge is strength. In foreseeing your fate, old friend, surely you can change it?’

But Merlin only shook his head. ‘No Arthur. I am helpless. I cannot loosen the chains that bind my heart and grow tighter, year by year. Satan could not wrestle them away; even Our Lord could not free me from them. For I am in love, Arthur: totally, hopelessly, desperately. I cannot rest but must follow where love calls me. There is no remedy for my despair. It will bring about my downfall.’

With these ominous words, he clasped Arthur in his crooked arms and showered him with blessings. Then he wrapped his cloak closely about himself, went out of Camelot and rode urgently into the Great Forest.

Deep in that wildwood, below the lonely, mist-shrouded waters, in the faery realm that few mortals have ever seen, the Lady of the Lake heard someone endlessly, mournfully calling her:

‘Oh, my Lady! Oh, Nimue! Oh, my Lady!’

She guessed that Wizard Merlin had found his way to the lake again and was closing in on her. Hearing that he had discovered her true name – though she had taken much care to keep it from him – she knew that all was lost.

‘Oh Nimue!’ he called again. ‘Nimue, my Lady!’

His calls grew louder and more frequent. Because of them, she could not sleep or even rest. She heard him praying as a Christian, begging her to come to him; she heard him summoning her with weird, devilish spells. Though it angered her much to let him have his way, she could not allow him to destroy the tranquillity of the Great Forest. So she rose through the water and went to meet him upon the shore.

‘So, old wizard,’ she said, keeping her distance, not stepping onto the land where he might touch her. ‘I kept my promise. I gave your protégé the gift you asked for. What more do you want?’

This time he answered her plainly: ‘I want your love, Nimue.’

‘I cannot give it to you,’ she said.

‘Then I will wait until you can,’ said Merlin.

‘Your wait will last beyond eternity,’ she said. ‘And even then, you will never have me.’

She turned and would have dissolved away into the safety of the water, but he called her back with a tormented cry.

‘Stay! Do not go until you have heard me through, Nimue! Know that even the thought of eternity does not daunt me. Long ago I mastered both patience and endurance. Before the first time I called upon you, I spent fifty years out of my mind in this very wilderness, waiting for the time to ripen when I could bring Arthur to become king. I did not give up until I had changed history in accordance with my dreams and drunk from the heady cup of worldly power! So do not think you can repel me so easily, sweet lady. I can wait for you for as long as you will it; and finally I will possess you.’

‘No, Merlin,’ she said. ‘You might wait until the world ends and the dead rise from their graves, but I will never give you my love. What do I care if you are a king-maker? That is of no concern to me, dwelling in the faery realms. It does not change the fact that you are a repulsive old man, with foul habits and suspicious intentions. Now go from here. Leave me alone!’

The mist coiled and swirled at her angry words, and the surface of the water seethed; even the leaves on the trees around the lake quivered, though the air was still. The lady sank away, leaving the old wizard standing ashen-faced upon the bank.

There he resumed the hoarse, irritating keening, ‘Oh Nimue, Oh my Lady!’ But when dusk fell, he wrapped his cloak around him – a billow of filthy rags incongruously trimmed with pure white ermine – and shuffled away, leaving only owl shrieks to disturb the silence.

This calm lasted through damp autumn and the bitterness of winter, for Merlin was lying low. However, he was not idle, but engrossed in divination and developing spells. By the time the March equinox had passed and the forest was lightened by birdsong, he was ready.

He took an axe and, with strength unnatural to his great age, cut down many trees to create a sun-dappled glade. Here he lit a small pyre of dead wood and bones, dribbling rare herbs over it until the air was thick with their bitter smoke. As this cleared, the glade seemed to sweeten with rustling apple and plum trees. Finally, Merlin transformed himself into the shape of a handsome, splendidly dressed young knight. Then he sat beneath the enchanted boughs to wait.

Soon Nimue rose from the lake to savour the spring air, and the fragrance of fruit trees drew her into the glade. Merlin in his comely guise rose to greet her.

He claimed that he was passing through the forest on a quest for King Arthur, and would be happy to entertain her with news from Camelot. The lady, intoxicated by the vision he had conjured up, allowed herself to be deceived.

They spoke cordially for a while. Then the shape-shifted wizard drew an ancient, leather-bound book from his robe, and beckoned the lady closer to admire it.

‘What is it?’ she asked, gazing at the strange script and cryptic symbols scrawled across the yellowed pages.

‘It is the wisdom of the gods and druids that held sway over Britain before the Roman legions came,’ he answered.

‘If that really is true, sir,’ she said, ‘I would dearly love the chance to study it, for I was but a small child during that great dawn and lack any knowledge of it.’

‘I will gladly share it with you and instruct you in its mysteries,’ he replied. ‘Naturally, this will require us to spend much time together. So perhaps, my Lady, you might also accept my affections? Will you permit me to become your own knight and to humbly serve you?’

Nimue was charmed by the young knight’s courtesy. She was also eager to study these ancient mysteries, hoping in her ignorance that they might help her to withstand Merlin’s unwanted advances, should he ever return to taunt her. Thus she accepted the offer, allowing him to touch her dew-soft hand with his lips.

But no sooner had he done so, than the enchantment was broken. The orchard crumbled away into dust, its fragrance turning to the stench of mould and corpses. And Merlin’s disguise fell from him like the sloughed skin of a snake, revealing the grizzly old wizard leering towards her.

Nimue recoiled with a gasp.

‘Ho!’ he snickered. ‘Surely you can’t be afraid of me? How can you be, when we have so much in common! Think of it, my sweet Nimue. Neither one of us was born of mortal men. And both of us have knowledge of uncanny powers.’

He reached out, laying his claw-nailed hand upon the silken sleeve of her dress. Shuddering, she brushed him off.

‘Do not fool yourself, old man,’ she said. ‘This common ground you claim between us is just another of your illusions. For I was fathered in the faery realms and born of earth, water and mist; and if I have powers beyond the reach of most who live in God’s world, they are only subtle and gentle ones. But I have heard that your father was a demon; and you have already shown me the evil to which you put your sorcery. Oh no, old wizard, we are as different as dung and diamonds, you and I. You have no claim on me.’

She backed away, as if expecting him to strike her for disrespecting his age and courtly position. But instead Merlin quaked and snorted with even louder laughter.

‘Ho, my Lady,’ he taunted her. ‘Are you not curious to learn the cause of my mirth?’

There was such an edge to his voice that she could not help but wait for him to go on.

‘I am laughing, Nimue,’ he hissed ‘because I see that you are heartily afraid of me. But if only you could read the future as well as I can, you would realise that it is really I who should be afraid of you!’

Then, leaning heavily on his staff and muttering gibberish, he hobbled away into the trees.

However, he was not gone for long. Day by day as the spring sap rose and birdsong flooded the Forest, he returned to call for her: ‘Oh, my Lady! Oh, Nimue!’ At last she realised that, if she could not be rid of him, she must try to outwit him.

So she rose again from the water and told him she was setting out on a long journey. She said he might accompany her, as if he were indeed her own knight, so long as he abided by two conditions. Firstly, however much he cared to flatter her and shower her with devotion, he must never again attempt to seduce her. And secondly, he must share with her all his knowledge of the occult and answer all her questions truthfully. The old wizard, ravaged by his emotions, was eager to agree.

Thus they rode together from the Great Forest, Merlin’s dark mount some discreet steps behind Nimue’s silver-dappled mare. They began to travel the length and breadth of Britain, moving only by night to shield them from curious eyes. They sought no lodgings on their way, sleeping side by side yet chastely apart in phantom shelters conjured up by Merlin. Nimue listened intently to everything he said, but did not permit him to speak of his lust or to touch her.

Merlin was a reluctant and painfully slow tutor, but Nimue had the wit not to hurry him. So she spun out their journey, meandering here and there, north, south, east and west, in and out of the Great Forest, skirting towns, crossing mountains, traversing lush green valleys and farmlands. Her patience was amply rewarded, for day by day he built up her knowledge of soothsaying and bewitchments. Soon she had learned enough to ask questions that tailored Merlin’s lessons more exactly to her needs. He was so besotted, he rarely questioned her motives; but if ever he did seem suspicious, she calmed him easily with a little decorous flirtation.

At last Nimue’s head was full and she knew her time had come. Summer had long faded and the leaves were falling as they entered the balmy, sea-bound land of Cornwall.

She turned on her horse and said to him, ‘Sir, you have often spoken of this land, and of a mighty rock that lies within it, containing a hidden cache of treasures. You have assured me that this is more marvellous than anything else in all of Arthur’s realm. Will you show it to me?’

Merlin let out a long sigh and shook his head piteously. For a long moment, he did not answer. Then he fixed her with his sunken, red-rimmed eyes. ‘Not yet, Lady,’ he begged. ‘I am too weary to travel further tonight. Let us sit beneath this tree instead, and I will give you another lesson.’

‘But you told me only yesterday, sir, that I have already learned all you can teach me,’ she said. ‘I am anxious to see this extraordinary hoard without delay.’

‘No, no,’ he protested. ‘I have not been sleeping well and my joints are aching. Let us find a secluded bank where we can lie low through the rest of this night. When I have rested, then I will consider your request.’

‘It seems that you are much burdened by your considerable years,’ she said. ‘But I am blessed with eternal youth, Merlin, and cannot let your limitations restrict me. So let us bid each other farewell now, and follow our separate paths. I thank you for all you have taught me, and hope that my company has been sufficient payment.’

She took up her reins and would have ridden away; but he stayed her with a groan, crying: ‘No, Nimue! I beg you, do not leave me! Somehow I will find the strength to show you this place that you long to see.’

She nodded and waited, for the first time letting him ride ahead of her. Now his horse quickened its pace, as if it knew their destination and was eager to arrive. They spoke no more.

Soon they heard the crashing of waves. Turning into a steep gully, they picked their way carefully down to a beach. Merlin slipped from his horse and bade Nimue to do likewise.

They walked across the pale sand together, shoulder to shoulder. The world was colourless and ghostly in the moonlight. The old wizard reached out and touched the lady’s hand. She shuddered violently, but did not shake off his horny, twisted fingers.

At the end of the beach, he led her round the towering cliff face and on to the rocks. Here she began to slip and stumble as if she would fall; but Merlin held her tightly.

They descended to another, narrow beach and turned towards the cliff. In the moonlight, they saw a shallow cave gaping open before them. Merlin stooped and led the way into it. The lady made to follow… Then let out a sudden cry as she struck her head on the low ceiling.

‘Do not lose heart!’ the wizard urged her. ‘Our journey is almost over. See how the moonlight shines upon that narrow threshold, leading into the heart of the cliff?’ He pointed through the cave towards a fissure, blacker even than the rock, scarcely the height and width of a ten-year-old child. ‘We must enter there, for the treasure lies within, my Lady.’

‘Such darkness!’ she cried. ‘Such confinement! No, Merlin: I cannot go inside.’

‘But I have found strength, despite myself, to bring you here,’ he said. ‘Though I am sick with weariness tonight, you forced me to guide you on this quest. So now you must find courage to complete it.’

‘But I cannot bend as low as you can, sir,’ she said. ‘And I am heartily afraid of such darkness.’

‘Shame on you!’ cried Merlin. ‘To come so far – yet not to see this wonder!’

‘Is there no other way?’

‘None, my Lady. This is the only entrance to the hoard.’

‘Then… Merlin, tell me: do you truly love me?’

‘Ach, how can you torment me with such a question?’ he groaned. ‘Did I not wait for you all through the biting winter? Have I not followed you from one end of Arthur’s kingdom to the other? What else must I do to prove my love?’

‘You must go into the cave alone,’ she answered, ‘and bring the treasure out to me.’

‘And then?’ He turned to her, seizing her slender shoulders and gazing deeply into her face. ‘I have kept my promise to ask nothing of you, Nimue, and still, I ask for nothing. But you will surely permit me to speculate. I cannot help but wonder what will come to pass if I fulfill your desire.’

‘You do not need to ask, Merlin,’ she said. ‘You can read the future. You know what will happen.’

He dropped his hands. He turned to the darkness. He stooped lower than ever before, and squeezed into the narrow fissure. Almost at once, the darkness swallowed him up.

Nimue stepped closer. She began to sing.

At once, Merlin’s muffled voice came drifting back to her: ‘What is that noise?’

‘Hush, sir, hush,’ she soothed him. ‘It is only me, singing so that you know I am here for you, and to help you find your direction back with the treasure.’

Merlin grunted and shuffled deeper into the cave.

Nimue took up her song again. Soon its sweet strains softened into a wordless chanting, at one with the rhythm of the softly breaking waves.

On and on she chanted and hummed. She slipped off her shoes. She paced before the fissure, treading a circle, then another and another, ring within ring inside the shallow cave, nine times over. When this was finished, she fell silent.

‘Merlin?’ she called.

He made no answer.

She called again, louder; and then again, cupping her hands to her mouth: ‘Merlin! Will you not come out?’

She crept right into the cave and up to the rock face. She ran her hands over it, up and down and across, feeling every inch of the cave wall. Where the fissure had been, now there was only solid, impenetrable rock.

The passageway had closed. The doorway had vanished.

The Lady of the Lake let out a deep sigh. Then she shook her hair free into the wind and ran, laughing, to the edge of the sea, taking deep breaths of the sharp, salty air. She ran lightly over the rocks, back to the first beach where her silver-dappled mare was waiting, and jumped upon its back. By moonlight and sunlight too she galloped, never stopping to rest until she was safe, deep inside the Great Forest, sinking into the misty waters of her lake.

As for Wizard Merlin, he was never seen again.

HOW CULHWCH WON OLWEN

HOW CULHWCH WON OLWEN