The Once and Future King - The Sword in the Stone The Queen of Air and Darkness The Ill-Made Knight The Candle in the Wind by T. H. White

Author:T. H. White [White, T. H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2011-11-01T00:00:00+00:00

ONE fine day in late summer, Lancelot was sitting in the Armoury with his uncle. In the big room there was a lot of dust dancing in the sunbeams, dust which they had themselves been stirring up a moment before, and round the walls there were the ranks of polished armour, and the racks of spears, and helms and morions hanging on pegs. There were misericordes and harness and the various banners and pennoncels, blazoned with the Ban chargers. The two fencers had sat down to rest after an exciting bout, and Uncle Dap was blown. Lancelot was eighteen now. He was a better fencer than his maestro—though Uncle Dap would not admit it, and his pupil tactfully pretended that he was not.

A page came in while they were still panting, and told him that he was wanted by his mother.

“Why?”

The page said that a gentleman had arrived who wanted to see him, and the Queen had said that he was to come at once.

Queen Elaine was sitting in the solar, where she had been doing tapestry work, and her two guests were sitting on either side of her. She was not the Elaine who had been one of the Cornwall sisters. It was a popular name in those days and several women in the Morte d’Arthur had it, particularly as some of its manuscript sources have got mixed up. The three grown-ups at the long table looked like a row of examiners in the dim room. One of the guests was an elderly gentleman with a white beard and pointed hat, and the other was a handsome minx with an olive complexion and plucked eyebrows. They all three looked at Lancelot, and the old gentleman spoke first.

“Hum!”

They waited.

“You called him Galahad,” said the old gentleman.

“His first name was Galahad,” he added, “and now he is Lancelot, since he was confirmed.”

“However did you know?”

“It can’t be helped,” said Merlyn. “It is one of the things one does know, and there’s an end on’t. Now, let me see, what are the other things I was supposed to tell you?”

The young lady with the plucked eyebrows put her hand before her mouth and yawned gracefully, like a cat.

“He will get the hope of his heart thirty years from now, and he will be the best knight in the world.”

“Shall I live to see it?” asked Queen Elaine.

Merlyn scratched his head, gave it a bump on the top with his knuckles, and replied:

“Yes.”

“Well,” said the Queen, “it is all very wonderful, I must say. Do you hear that, Lance? You are to be the best knight in the world!”

The boy asked: “Have you come from the court of King Arthur?”

“Yes.”

“Is everything well?”

“Yes. He sent you his love.”

“Is the King happy?”

“Very happy. Guenever sent her love too.”

“Who is Guenever?”

“Good gracious!” exclaimed the magician. “Didn’t you know about that? No, of course not. I have been getting bejingled in my brains.”

Here he glanced at the beautiful lady, as if she might be responsible for the jingling—which she was.

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