Idylls of the King | Page 9

yet for child,?Hear yet once more the story of the child.?For, mother, there was once a King, like ours.?The prince his heir, when tall and marriageable,?Asked for a bride; and thereupon the King?Set two before him. One was fair, strong, armed--?But to be won by force--and many men?Desired her; one good lack, no man desired.?And these were the conditions of the King:?That save he won the first by force, he needs?Must wed that other, whom no man desired,?A red-faced bride who knew herself so vile,?That evermore she longed to hide herself,?Nor fronted man or woman, eye to eye--?Yea--some she cleaved to, but they died of her.?And one--they called her Fame; and one,--O Mother,?How can ye keep me tethered to you--Shame.?Man am I grown, a man's work must I do.?Follow the deer? follow the Christ, the King,?Live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow the King--?Else, wherefore born?'
To whom the mother said?'Sweet son, for there be many who deem him not,?Or will not deem him, wholly proven King--?Albeit in mine own heart I knew him King,?When I was frequent with him in my youth,?And heard him Kingly speak, and doubted him?No more than he, himself; but felt him mine,?Of closest kin to me: yet--wilt thou leave?Thine easeful biding here, and risk thine all,?Life, limbs, for one that is not proven King??Stay, till the cloud that settles round his birth?Hath lifted but a little. Stay, sweet son.'
And Gareth answered quickly, 'Not an hour,?So that ye yield me--I will walk through fire,?Mother, to gain it--your full leave to go.?Not proven, who swept the dust of ruined Rome?From off the threshold of the realm, and crushed?The Idolaters, and made the people free??Who should be King save him who makes us free?'
So when the Queen, who long had sought in vain?To break him from the intent to which he grew,?Found her son's will unwaveringly one,?She answered craftily, 'Will ye walk through fire??Who walks through fire will hardly heed the smoke.?Ay, go then, an ye must: only one proof,?Before thou ask the King to make thee knight,?Of thine obedience and thy love to me,?Thy mother,--I demand.
And Gareth cried,?'A hard one, or a hundred, so I go.?Nay--quick! the proof to prove me to the quick!'
But slowly spake the mother looking at him,?'Prince, thou shalt go disguised to Arthur's hall,?And hire thyself to serve for meats and drinks?Among the scullions and the kitchen-knaves,?And those that hand the dish across the bar.?Nor shalt thou tell thy name to anyone.?And thou shalt serve a twelvemonth and a day.'
For so the Queen believed that when her son?Beheld his only way to glory lead?Low down through villain kitchen-vassalage,?Her own true Gareth was too princely-proud?To pass thereby; so should he rest with her,?Closed in her castle from the sound of arms.
Silent awhile was Gareth, then replied,?'The thrall in person may be free in soul,?And I shall see the jousts. Thy son am I,?And since thou art my mother, must obey.?I therefore yield me freely to thy will;?For hence will I, disguised, and hire myself?To serve with scullions and with kitchen-knaves;?Nor tell my name to any--no, not the King.'
Gareth awhile lingered. The mother's eye?Full of the wistful fear that he would go,?And turning toward him wheresoe'er he turned,?Perplext his outward purpose, till an hour,?When wakened by the wind which with full voice?Swept bellowing through the darkness on to dawn,?He rose, and out of slumber calling two?That still had tended on him from his birth,?Before the wakeful mother heard him, went.
The three were clad like tillers of the soil.?Southward they set their faces. The birds made?Melody on branch, and melody in mid air.?The damp hill-slopes were quickened into green,?And the live green had kindled into flowers,?For it was past the time of Easterday.
So, when their feet were planted on the plain?That broadened toward the base of Camelot,?Far off they saw the silver-misty morn?Rolling her smoke about the Royal mount,?That rose between the forest and the field.?At times the summit of the high city flashed;?At times the spires and turrets half-way down?Pricked through the mist; at times the great gate shone?Only, that opened on the field below:?Anon, the whole fair city had disappeared.
Then those who went with Gareth were amazed,?One crying, 'Let us go no further, lord.?Here is a city of Enchanters, built?By fairy Kings.' The second echoed him,?'Lord, we have heard from our wise man at home?To Northward, that this King is not the King,?But only changeling out of Fairyland,?Who drave the heathen hence by sorcery?And Merlin's glamour.' Then the first again,?'Lord, there is no such city anywhere,?But all a vision.'
Gareth answered them?With laughter, swearing he had glamour enow?In his own blood, his princedom, youth and hopes,?To plunge old Merlin in the Arabian sea;?So pushed them all unwilling toward the gate.?And there was no gate like it under heaven.?For barefoot on the keystone, which was lined?And