Courtesy

Kalens of March.

Milady, Sovreign, and Sovreign of my heart,

I am returning. I beg you tell me how it is to be.

Scarce five twelvemonths past I fled as the great waves washed over my kingdom. Last to escape, I rode like the wind, pausing not until my brave mount bore me to this island. I knelt and gave thanks, then asked to be given a venture for which I would be worthy. The high repute of your court being generally noised about, I made my way there, and, offering my sword, made liege homage to the great king. Your ladyship will understand that this not a simple homage, but a liege homage. My Lord looped a silk string around my wrists, and I swore to obey no other lords and to serve him loyally until my death.

Whether moved by this act of allegiance or convinced by my skill at arms, he admitted me at once to his aulic retinue, to the renowned company who resided in his castle, surrounding his bedchamber each night, so that nought sinister might come to pass. We privileged few familiars of the King also dined with His Majesty, and by turns we served at His high table.

It was then that first I strayed. Trembling at your beauty, I spilled a drop of wine. I was mortified, but you caught my sleeve and bade me be tranquil. It was in that touch that I lost myself to you, high sovreign. I do not think that He, being older, and much occupied with his state, saw my face, saw my skin pale, saw me look. I do not think He knew.

But one did notice. That wise wizard sees everything, I warrant, present and what may yet come to pass. He wagged his finger at me and said, "Have a care, young man. Remember your oath." I heard his words but did not heed.

I wish I could say that I struggled 'gainst my illicit desire, but it would be false. I coveted you, my Lady. Already I had broken one of the ten commandments, and by doing so, in my thought I had violated my oath of liege homage. Still I held my lust within, and thought is the beginning of sin, but not yet action, so perhaps at that time I could still have been shriven.

Over the long months my thought grew, and I believe you watched it grow, but he did not see. Then came his absence, and your summons to your chamber. Gawain stood guard while we, overcome by our hearts, entwined as one. And I gave my homage to you, my Lady and my Liege.

The next morning I had so many thoughts. I prayed for you. Yours was but a transgression of nature, easily forgiven, a venal sin that any confessor would readily understand and remit.

My case was different. An oath of liege homage broken is a mortal sin. And I understood why some sins are mortal, because they increase, and lead to other sins. I could feel envy of him as I coveted you, lust for you, and shame at being an oath breaker. And to keep my post I had to dissemble, even in confession, which is another sin. Do you see how one sin brought out the next?

And then you were abducted and the Table was mad with panic, not knowing where you were held. I rode my horse to death, then took Gawain's horse and rode it to death as well, frantically searching for you everywhere.

And then it happened. A cart driver said he knew where you were imprisoned. He bade me jump on the cart and promised to take me there. A lowly cart, used to transport criminals. I hesitated. Call it the sin of pride, if you will. Yet another sin, but one I thought you would understand. A knight, one of his knights, a knight who had been a king. I did not want to ride on the criminals' cart, so I hesitated, I hesitated but a moment, my Lady, then I leapt on the cart.

As we rode through the streets I was derided with the condemned men. Women threw cabbages, men swore at us, called us foul names. This I endured, until, two days later, I arrived at the fortress in which you were held. To enter I was forced to crawl across a bridge of sharp swords. So hot was the blood as it flowed through my fevered brain that I hardly noticed the hurts of the blades.

On the other side of the bridge I killed two guards to enter the fortress. Was that a sin? We are told "Thou shalt not kill," but in truth a knight must kill often.

At sight of you my joy was great, but brief. Somehow you had heard word of my betrayal. You reproached me for my hesitation in jumping on the cart, and you sent me away, scorning your chance at freedom, preferring to remain a captive, rather than go with me, whom you repudiated thus for a mere moment of discourtesy.

Your royal disdeign brought me low. I left, heavy-hearted.

And what of our quest for that cup? I knew that I had forfeited my chance by my sins. Only one who is pure can drink of that cup. So without the quest, and without you, I had no purpose, and I wandered as if in a daze. I was soon captured. I did not fight--I wanted no more killing. I was also sorry for the needless death of my horses and the killing of the two guards standing their watch.

The interrogation was short. The imprisonment was long but not harsh. I was held in a room with a small, high window, and given a book of hours to read from, and paints to occupy my hours. I sat for a long time, doing nothing. I know not how long. I knew no one would ransom me. To be sure it was more than a year because I marked the changing of the seasons.

News came that you had been ransomed, and I was glad, but I thought, what has that to do with me? Nothing. Then one day I heard a bird singing outside my window and somehow I was moved to take up the paints. On the prison wall I painted a scene of spring, of the re-greening of the greenery. It lightened my heart.

When I finished the scene, to my surprise, I found I could walk into my painting and leave my prison behind. I gave thanks for this liberation, and resolved to guard my identity, lest I be ta'en again and held under lock and key.

I resolved to return to that great court. I know not why--I had no expectation of being admitted into it. Perhaps I thought that, in dwelling in the town nearby, something of its greatness would radiate and begin the healing that I sorely needed. I could not think of riding a horse again, so I took a position as assistant to a journeyman, riding on his donkey. I pretended that I had lost my wits and did not know his name. In truth it was not hard to pretend. My senses and my once fevered brain had been dulled by the long, futile captivity and the melancholy of losing your high favor.

But my master has found me out. Someone recognized me on the road, and my employer has insisted that I am quits of him. He has left me with this humble mount. And now I am free to make my way to court.

It will take some time. This mount is not a noble steed, but I have already killed two of those in my vain haste to do... to do what? I think I will arrive one month from this day.

If I present myself at court once again to bow before my Liege Lord, the sovreign king, would that be an inconvenience to Your Ladyship? I do not know.

So I make bold to suggest this. Once I gave you a crimson silk scarf, the last remnant I have from the glorious land of Lyonesse, which I once ruled. If you would not disdeign to see me again, if I may step in that hallowed court, do you but hang the scarf from your window. If you do, I will know that I may approach.

But if you would not see my countenance again--and it is only fair to tell you that my visage is altered from the long captivity and the dolorous wandering--then do not hang the scarf, and I will not approach, instead taking the low road to the coast and the bogs, where a man can live simply and honestly, biding his days in penance.

I imagine you as you were, exciting the admiration of all of the knights, presiding over that noble company. And I think that one of their number may yet recover the cup. And would that not be the summit of glory?

May you live long, Sauvegarde de ma vie, Safeguard of my Life, and may it please you to read this missive from the messenger who is here waiting for me. My hands are not as steady as they once were, though I think I could still bear a sword in need.

Mille regretz, A thousand regrets.... L, no longer knight, who begs you by this sign, tell him how it is to be...