Читать книгу Galahad - John Erskine - Страница 5

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King Pelles was a proud man, but before Lancelot he knew his place. The castle was in exceptional order when the great knight rode in. He was on an errand from Arthur. They took his horse away, helped him out of his armor, and led him to a corner of the hall where he and his host could talk at ease. When Arthur sent messages by Lancelot, there was little to discuss, but Pelles made the conference last out till nightfall, and the servants brought candles, and prepared the room for the evening meal.

“My daughter, who presides at my table,” said King Pelles, “will be here presently. If you don’t mind, we will wait for her.”

“Your daughter?” said Lancelot. “You are fortunate. And old enough to preside over your house!”

“She presides at the table,” said Pelles. “She is only twenty—in some matters young, in others too old. I wish I knew what to do with her. Her mother died four years ago. Elaine thinks too much.”

“Elaine? A beautiful name.”

“It does well enough,” said the king.

“And she thinks too much?”

“She won’t marry. I have offered to let her choose the husband, but she says the whole matrimonial program, regarded with the eye of reason, is unattractive.”

“A nunnery, perhaps?” said Lancelot.

“I’ve suggested that, too, but she says she hasn’t the temperament for the religious life, and I doubt if she has. I’m very fond of her, but she’s a difficult child.”

“In a home so well appointed,” said Lancelot, “she would have little to occupy her. Perhaps she is forced to think, for want of something better to do.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Pelles. “There’s a good deal going on here, and I share as much of it with her as she will let me. We hunt in season, and I take her to most of the tournaments. She was at the one last year, where the man got killed.”

“There will be jousting at Lonazep in a few days,” said Lancelot. “When I leave you I’m to join Arthur on the way there. I hope your daughter will attend.”

“She won’t,” said Pelles. “I invited her to go, but she said the sport was out of date. That’s the mind she has. Even in murder, she said, one should keep up with the fashion.”

“She calls it murder?”

At that moment Elaine came in.

“Daughter, we are honored to have Sir Lancelot at our table.”

“We are indeed,” she said, and smiled up at the tall warrior with the deep eyes and the scarred face. When they had taken their places he looked across at her. She was not so tall as Guinevere, and her hair was not so brown. She had cut it short, and she was slender as a boy, but the mischief in her blue eyes seemed to Lancelot anything but boyish.

“Do you know,” she said, “I hadn’t the slightest idea you were so young. It’s your fame, of course. I thought you must be at least fifty.”

“Lady—” began Sir Lancelot.

“My name’s Elaine. It saves time.” She smiled at him again.

“Your manners, daughter!” said King Pelles. “What were you about to say, Sir Lancelot?”

“I should like the fame, but the lady, I fear—”

“It’s Elaine,” she said.

“—I fear Elaine is too generous.”

“But you aren’t fifty, are you?”

“Just half of that.”

“Old enough for a man.”

“Sir Lancelot, I’m covered with confusion!” said King Pelles. “My daughter is—”

“She is charming,” said Lancelot. “She is everything your daughter should be.”

“Good—!” said Pelles.

“You don’t always have to ride around, do you?” said Elaine. “They let you stay at the Court sometimes?”

“Wherever Arthur sends us, but at Camelot, of course, much of the time. I’m on my way to meet the king now—we are riding to Lonazep, to the tournament. I was just saying to your father, I hope you will be among the ladies there.”

“Nothing I’d like better. Shall we go, father?”

“Why, when I asked you, you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, was this the one? I thought it was another. Yes indeed! Which ladies did you say would be there, Sir Lancelot?”

“All the ladies of the Court.”

“They are very beautiful, I suppose.”

“One of them,” said Lancelot, “one who is sure to be there, is often said to be the greatest beauty in the world.”

“I’ve heard that Guinevere is lovely,” said Elaine.

“The queen will not see the tournament,” said Lancelot. “She is recovering from a severe illness. I referred to Iseult.”

“Iseult? Sir Tristram’s Iseult? She doesn’t belong to the Court.”

“She is visiting the country,” said Lancelot, “and Tristram will enter the tournament.”

“They are famous lovers!” said Elaine. “I never hoped to see them. But then I had no hope of seeing you, Sir Lancelot.”

King Pelles spoke sharply to the servants. “Sir Lancelot will have some more meat. Perhaps better done this time, Sir Lancelot?”

“No more meat, thank you.”

“They are, aren’t they?” said Elaine.

“Who are? And are they what?” said King Pelles.

“I meant to ask Sir Lancelot if Tristram and Iseult are not wonderful lovers.”

“How would Sir Lancelot know? And if he knew, you shouldn’t ask him. I think Sir Lancelot will have some more wine, daughter.”

“Will you?” said Elaine.

“No more wine, thank you.”

“You know them personally, of course,” said Elaine.

“I know them,” said Lancelot. “They seem to interest you.”

“Immensely! They are the happiest people in the world.”

“They certainly are remarkable,” said Lancelot, “but I never before heard them praised in those terms.”

“Oh, yes. They really are living. If I thought I could—”

“Daughter!” said King Pelles.

“Did you speak, father?”

“You forget yourself. You forget our guest.”

“Sir Lancelot? Why, I was talking to him!”

“You were. Your talk was neither appropriate nor entertaining.”

“I protest,” said Sir Lancelot. “Everything your daughter has said interests me.”

“Then I’ll go on. With your permission, father. I was about to say that if I could love a man as Iseult does Tristram, I’d think myself happy. I’m afraid of stagnating.”

Lancelot stared as though he had not noticed her before. King Pelles looked at Sir Lancelot, then at the servants. One of them thought he wanted something, and hurried over to him.

“Don’t you think so?” said Elaine.

“No, daughter, I don’t think so at all.”

“I wonder if Sir Lancelot will tell us what he thinks,” said Elaine.

“Ah, yes,” said her father. The servant retired with dignity.

“Stagnation would be serious of course—I’ve a friend who warns me against it,” said Lancelot. “But you are safe from that danger, I should say. And there are other ways of leading a full life. They are not completely happy.”

“What’s wrong with them? They haven’t grown tired of each other, have they?”

“So far as I know, they have not,” said Lancelot. “But think how much they miss.”

“I’m very stupid. I can’t see they miss anything.”

“Why, they probably feel they were made for each other, and it looks as though they were. But then, what was King Mark made for? She’s his wife, after all. Besides, they never can have children.”

“Do they want them?”

“I can’t imagine being in love and not wanting them,” said Lancelot.

“You can’t imagine it of any great lovers?” asked Elaine.

“Of none whatever.”

It was her turn to stare at him—so hard that he looked away, and appealed to her father.

“Isn’t that so, King Pelles?”

The king roused himself.

“To be sure—of course it is. Shall we have the minstrel in to sing for us, Sir Lancelot? Or shall we move over into that window and entertain ourselves? The conversation in this house is not profound, but then the minstrel isn’t very good, either. Out here we miss the privileges of the Court.”

“The conversation is profound enough for me,” said Lancelot. “My habits are of the most active kind. Ordinarily I’m not what you’d call a thinking man.”

Elaine kept her eyes on him. Her father made a slight bow in her direction, less a tribute than a signal not to delay them. She walked to the window, a deep bay with tall leaded panes, and perched herself on the cushioned ledge. She must have known by experience that her feet could not touch the floor, for she promptly drew them up and sat on them. Lancelot took the seat opposite, Pelles placed a chair for himself precisely between them.

“The prospect from this window is very fine,” said the king.

“I’m sure,” said Lancelot.

“It’s best when you can see it,” said Elaine.

“Of course—in the daytime,” said her father. “And we shall have the moon shortly.”

“Moonlight is vague,” said Elaine.

They gazed through the open window, into the darkness.

“If you’re devoted to the active life,” said Elaine, “you must envy them for having to do what they did.”

“Who’s this now?” said Pelles.

“Tristram and Iseult, father. Didn’t they drink some magic? Rather pleasant to do what you’re compelled to, and can’t argue about, and aren’t responsible for. Especially when you’d like to do it, anyway.”

“That story isn’t true,” said Lancelot. “Tristram told me it wasn’t.”

“I wish you’d tell me something about Guinevere,” said Elaine.

Lancelot started from his window-seat.

“Since I’m not to see her at the tournament.”

Lancelot settled back again. “Is there anything to tell about the queen, beyond what everybody knows?”

“Is there something everybody knows?” said Elaine.

“They know she’s the queen,” said Lancelot. “If they’ve looked at her, they know she is beautiful.”

“More so than Iseult?”

“It’s a different kind. Guinevere lifts you up.”

“I suppose that’s why Arthur is such a great king,” said Elaine. “Or did he get most of his best work done before he married her?”

“Daughter, I can’t permit this to go on,” said her father. “Your talk this evening has displeased me, as I have intimated. Now I must forbid any flippant discussion of King Arthur. At no time would it be proper to speak of him as you are doing, and least of all before Sir Lancelot, who is his best friend.”

“But, father,” said Elaine, “I had to ask these questions of some one who knows. If you had let me go to Court and see the world, I should have had the answers long ago. Of course Guinevere has a gift for inspiring men. I wish I had. But Arthur was at the peak of his glory when he married. I want to know what Guinevere could do for so supreme a man. It isn’t disloyal to ask that, is it, Sir Lancelot?”

“He was a great man when Guinevere married him,” said Lancelot. “He ought to be still better, I should say, for having had her love.”

“Ought to be, but is he?” said Elaine. “And do you imply that he hasn’t her love now?”

“Some men don’t seem to need so much inspiration as others,” said Lancelot. “That’s what I mean. Even if he had never met Guinevere, Arthur would have been remarkable.”

“I’ve heard he’s rather uninteresting,” said Elaine.

“He interests me,” said Lancelot.

Elaine said nothing more. The moon was well up now, and King Pelles called attention to it. Lancelot thought it a very fine moon.

“I hope we may keep you for some time,” said the king.

“I must ride early to-morrow morning. I ought to have gone on to-night, but your hospitality was too pleasant to leave.”

“I’ll see you at breakfast,” said the king. “Any hour you prefer.”

“I shall, too, Sir Lancelot,” said Elaine.

“It’s not necessary, daughter.”

“No,” said Elaine, “not because it’s necessary.”