Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley [537]
“No, Gareth"—she heard the voice of Lancelet, soft in the curdled silence in the room—"you know why it is that I will not return to court. I will not speak of my own peace of soul—nor yet of the Queen’s—but I am vowed to follow the Grail for a year and a day.”
“But this is madness! What the devil is the Grail, against the needs of our king? I was sworn to him, and so were you, years before any of us heard of the Grail! When I think of our King Arthur at court with none of his faithful men save such as are lame or infirm or cowardly . . . times, I wonder if perhaps it was the work of the fiend, masquerading as a work of God and come to scatter Arthur’s Companions out of his hands!”
Lancelet said quietly, “I know that it came from God, Gareth. Do not try to deprive me of that.” And for a moment it seemed that again the light of madness flickered in his eyes.
Gareth said, and his voice was oddly subdued when he spoke, “But when God does the same work as the Devil? I cannot think it is God’s will that all Arthur has wrought in more than a quarter of a century should thus be cast aside! Do you know there are wild Northmen landing on the shores, and when the men of those lands cry out for Arthur’s legions to come and help them, there are none to send to their aid? And so the Saxon armies are gathering again, while Arthur sits idle in Camelot and you seek for your soul—Lancelet, I beg you, if you will not return to court, at least seek for Galahad and make him return to Arthur’s side! If the King is old and his will grows weak—and God forbid I should ever have to say so much—then perhaps your son may stand in his place, for all men know he is the King’s adopted son and heir!”
“Galahad?” Lancelet’s voice was somber. “Think you I have much influence with my son? You and the others swore to follow the Grail for a year and a day, yet I rode for a time with Galahad, and I know it is with him even as he said on that day, that if need be he would follow it lifelong.”
“No!” Gareth leaned from his horse and gripped Lancelet by the shoulders. “That is what you must make him see, Lancelet, that at all costs he must return to Camelot! Ah, God, Gwydion would call me traitor to my own blood, and I love Gwydion well, but—how can I say this even to you, my cousin and my heart’s brother? I trust not that man’s power over our king! The Saxons who send to Arthur find themselves always speaking with him, they think of him as the sister’s son of Arthur, and among them, know you not, the sister’s son is heir—”
Lancelet said, with a gentle smile, “Recall then, Gareth, that it was even so with the Tribes before the Romans came—we are not Roman, you and I.”
“But will you not fight for the rights of your own son?” demanded Gareth.
“It is for Arthur to say who shall follow him on his throne,” said Lancelet, “if indeed there shall be any king after him at all. Sometimes, it seemed to me when I wandered among the visions of my madness—nay, I mean not to speak of that, but I think perhaps it was a little akin to the Sight—that a darkness would fall over this land when Arthur had gone.”
“And then it should be as if Arthur had never been? What of your vow to Arthur?” Gareth demanded, and Lancelet sighed.
“If it is your will, Gareth, I will seek out Galahad.”
“As quickly as you can,” Gareth urged, “and you must persuade him that his loyalty to the King is beyond all quests and Grails and Gods—”
Lancelet said sadly, “And if he will not come?”
“If he does not,” Gareth said slowly, “then perhaps he is not the King we will need after Arthur. In that case, we are in God’s hands, and may he help us all!”
“Cousin, and more than brother,” said Lancelet, embracing him again, “we are all in God’s hands whatever comes.