A/N: This is my very first Arthurian Legend fic. I read Le Morte D'Arthur by Thomas Malory recently, and I couldn't resist a post.
Guilty Love
Sir Lancelot was admiring the deep woods he was passing through while his steed trotted along. The birds were singing, the day was warm, and he thought of the queen. The sun was setting on the perfect afternoon, and he knew he would have to seek shelter soon. He knew of a castle not far off, the stronghold of Sir Calver, who was a noble knight steadfastly loyal to King Arthur. Sir Lancelot was sure to find hospitality there.
After riding another few leagues, the castle was in sight. It rose against the dusk like a dragon surrounded by his golden hoard. A servant was outside tending to Sir Calver's horses, brushing them down and allowing them to roam in a paddock.
"Is your master within," Sir Lancelot called to the man. "I seek shelter for the night."
"Ay, he is within, sir, and readying for supper," the servant replied. "He will certainly aid a good knight. Follow me, if it pleases you, sir."
Sir Lancelot did so, and the servant led him to the spacious dining hall where Sir Calver was just sitting down to his meal with his wife, Lady Elizabeth, and their daughter, Lady Nevith. Both ladies were reputed to be very fair. Lady Elizabeth had dark, red hair and wise, grey eyes. The daughter's hair was like gold and her eyes were deep green. When Sir Lancelot entered and all their eyes turned on him, he thought there was something melancholy about Lady Nevith's green orbs.
"Sir Lancelot," Sir Calver heartily cried, going to him to shake his hand. "To what do I owe this great honor?"
"I was passing through, sir," Sir Lancelot explained, "and I needed shelter, for the evening is approaching. I was hoping I could impose on your cordiality. I am on my way to a tournament, so I wish to keep my strength up for the jousting."
"It is no imposition, I assure you," Sir Calver declared, gesturing to a seat at the table next to his daughter. "Such a knight as you is always welcome here. Sit and eat your fill! Afterwards, you will find a bed waiting for you so that you may rest in comfort."
As Sir Lancelot took his seat, Sir Calver introduced his family and everyone began their supper. Sir Lancelot noticed that Lady Nevith was quite pale, and he was concerned, but judged it better to say nothing. When dinner was over, Sir Calver led Sir Lancelot to a bedroom and left him to sleep.
The next morning, Sir Lancelot arose and made ready for the tournament. Sir Calver asked if he might accompany Sir Lancelot, as he also wished to join in the feats of arms. They traveled the few miles that made the distance to the tournament grounds and erected their brightly colored pavilion. That day, Sir Calver took down five of his opponents before he was unhorsed. Sir Lancelot overthrew twenty of his opponents, but he was severely wounded in the side from his last encounter. Sir Calver rode with Sir Lancelot back to his castle and left him in the care of Lady Nevith.
Sir Lancelot received the tenderest care from Lady Nevith that man could ask for from a woman, but all the while the lady looked more and more melancholy. She would sigh pitiably and examine his wounds with tear-laden eyes. Sir Lancelot was afraid of the meaning of these sighs and tears, for his heart belonged to the queen. He dreaded the love a maiden. It could only hurt her, and her pain would be his.
"My lady," Sir Lancelot ventured one day after he had stayed with them for two months, "you seem dreadfully sad and somber. It does not become one so young and fair. What could be the cause of your sadness," he asked gently.
"Sir," the lady replied with some hesitation, "I am sad because I love, but am not loved in return."
"Who is this one you love," Sir Lancelot prompted, praying she would give any name but his. She smoothed out the covers of his bed, as if she wished to evade the question, or at least delay it. At length she answered him.
"I love a knight whom I must not love," she confided tearfully.
"Does this knight love another?"
"Yes, he does," Lady Nevith confirmed. "He loves One much higher and greater than I. I would not dare to compete with this love. It would be sinful to do so."
Sir Lancelot understood at once. She loved him, as he had suspected, but she knew he loved the queen and no one else. Lady Nevith realized how inferior she was to Guinevere. Sir Lancelot was pained greatly by this. He did not wish to cause this gracious lady, whom he was fond of, any grief.
"I am sorry," he offered, meaning far more than his condolences.
Lady Nevith caught the meaning behind Sir Lancelot's words. She blushed, knowing she must clear up his misunderstanding, even if it meant sacrificing her secret. She took one of his rough hands in both her own and smiled kindly at him.
"I did not mean you, my lord," she assured him delicately. She was gratified when Sir Lancelot sighed with relief. "I fell in love with one much like you," she admitted, "but he came here first."
"Who is this one like me," Sir Lancelot asked curiously.
"First, I must explain myself better," Lady Nevith said with a distracted air, "When I said my love loves One higher and greater than myself, I was not speaking of a woman of superior rank or fortune. I was speaking of the Lord God. This is why I must not love him. He belongs to God, and he is destined to follow God's will." She finished with a shaky voice. Emotion seemed to overwhelm her, and she looked away from Sir Lancelot in shame, withdrawing her hands.
"What is the name of this remarkable knight," Sir Lancelot asked, filled with wonder.
"Sir Galahad," Lady Nevith confessed.
"My son," Sir Lancelot whispered, almost overwhelmed himself, but this time with surprise.
"Yes, my lord," Lady Nevith assured him. "Sir Galahad, your son, is the knight I love. Surely you must have noticed how well I have cared for you. It was not merely the care of a pitying stranger. It was all for the sake of your son, whom I love with all of my gentle, woman's heart. Alas, that I should foolishly love such a pure, saintly man, for he can only have for me the affection of a brother for his sister."
"Please, tell me your story," sir Lancelot pleaded. He had not heard tidings of his son in many months and he wished to hear this sad tale, which gave a sublime glory to Sir Galahad.
"He was passing through the woods, as you were, while on his quest for the Cup of Christ, our Savior," Lady Nevith began. "He, like you, needed lodgings for the night. My father offered him hospitality, for he never denies food and a bed to a worthy knight, which it was apparent your son was. He refused to tell us his name until the time came for his departure thence. His gentle manners and kind words endeared him to me. I sensed that he was fated to do great deeds that would make his name known for many years to come." Here Lady Nevith heaved a great sigh, as if the story were a burden to her. "On the morrow, may father insisted that he stay, for he needed more rest than one night could provide. He continued to abide here for some weeks, all the while behaving in a manner befitting to knights of your order. My love for him was not hasty, nor ill-considered, I assure you. He enchanted me every day."
"Surely Sir Galahad did not woo you, despite the vows he had taken," Sir Lancelot asked, indignant at the thought of his son hurting the lady willfully.
"Certainly not," she hastened to explain. "He never acted in any deceitful or unseemly fashion. He is the glory of knighthood and matchless among men. He never implied that he loved me, and I never assumed so, but his courteous presence was enough to unknowingly stir my heartstrings as Sir Tristan was wont to stir the strings of his lyre. I could not help falling in love with him."
Her words and manner were so impassioned that Sir Lancelot was struck by his son's willpower. It was a strong man indeed who could deny so devoted a woman as the one before him. Sir Galahad must have been peerless in virtue to withstand such declarations.
"On the morning he left us, I was doubly troubled," she continued, "for my love was leaving me, and worse – I could never see him again. I never spoke of my love to him, for I didn't feel free to do so, somehow. Once I knew his name and quest, I was glad of that, for I knew it would cause him pain to know how it hurt me. It is a great relief to that I was able to tell you all, my lord," she admitted shyly. "It is very like telling him, but it could not do such harm."
"And I am glad I could help you in the small way I have," Sir Lancelot told her, hoping to assuage her embarrassment.
"I feel better, sir," she said, gratefully. "I feel stronger, and less guilty, now that I am not the only one who carries my secret affection."
"You have no reason to feel guilty," Sir Lancelot comforted her. "Love can never be sinful. It is what we do with love that becomes the sin," he told her with a small, knowing smile.
Once his wound was healed, Sir Lancelot took leave of Sir Calver and his family. He regretted leaving such amiable company, but it was almost Pentecost, and he needed to go to court to witness the miracle that would occur, as always, before they sat down to supper. When he said good-bye to Lady Nevith, she had a bright smile for him. In a way, he felt like a father saying good-bye to his daughter forever.