The Tragedy of Arthur: A Novel (51 page)

Too much synecdoche for this crowned head.
¹⁴

Too hot, my king, your fancies and vexations.

For those who sway the rule must needs be led

By cooler humors, not by passions’ pricks.

In marriage men are spared from wilder lusts:

Their anger melts away, they find them calm.

You paint a dreaded scene, you god of love.

An if the lady find me not her taste?

’Tis not unknown.

Come, Duke, thou art too cruel.

’Tis not unknown affects
¹⁵
do wax with time.

All’s one, as in your autumn, you are not

The same young lovers who were wed in spring.

In time new common cause is found, and wife

And husband are as allies in a war

They cannot win, yet still are they content

To fight it side by side.

Most nobly read.

Duke, grant me but a moment to revolve,

As you do teach me now, if league with France,

Made strong by unseen, sure not loathy dame,

Is best of fate for Britain and her king.

Most gladly, lord. I’ll sit without.

Our thanks.

Exit Gloucester

Cold fear now grips me closer than in war.

Dare I examine her behind her veil?

Whatsoe’er it shows, I must not credit true

For royal painters earn when they omit.

Uncovers painting

“Bonjour, princesse.”
There’s all my Frankish talk.

Can this sustain our weary hours throughout

A life of matrimonial content?

“
Bonjour, princesse
. My kingdom wants a queen.

What say you? Find me well enough for now?

Then we must hence spend every day and night

In one another’s speechless company

Until the one of us should mercy show

And dying leave the other in sweet peace.”

Perchance I ought to praise her qualities.

“Within your bluest eye I see reflect

The fleets of France at my behest and beck.

The sun is no more golden than your hair,

Which calls to mind your treasury and wealth.

How I do long to press beneath my hands

Your soft and yielding countrymen for tax.”

Let’s taste of her smooth embassy instead:

He reads

“Great Arthur’s famous and heroic acts.”

She does write well. “Your loving friend, Matilde.”

’Tis all set here as circumstance demands.

Matilde. Matilde. ’Tis as should be.
¹⁶

This then must be, ’tis right, as Gloucester says.

I’ll call him back and set it to be done.

O traitor voice, why silent now, thou knave?

But call him, coward! Now. Call now.
¹⁷

O, brother, what relief to see thine eye!

Just now I want thy wit and company

To free my spirits from these chains of state.

So long as you would have me here I’ll stay.

What lady waits upon thee with such care?

A lady once you termed a warty toad,

A spaniel, and your most unwelcome shadow.

A warty toad? I unbelieve this lie,

Nor credit you are Guenhera who cast

Enchantments o’er us all in Gloucestershire.

Enchantments? Ha! O, King, are you not shamed?

For long years have I feared an apple’s fall,

Which does remember me at once the pain

Of being struck by them upon my head

When you would throw them at me in your mirth.

I am ashamed if ere that cockerel
¹⁸

I was did aught that lacked in courtesy.

’Tis possible that I did bear myself

Without most ceaseless perfect comeliness.

I’truth, I fear th’most perfect gentle knight

As soon had hurled a pippin
¹⁹
at my head.

I am astound that this is truly you

In form made real from out my mem’ry’s mist,

And you are changed and unchanged both at once.

The workings and the crafts of wizard time!

You are become most perfect dame while still—

Within you, as behind a mask you wear—

I see today that girl, and yet more odd,

Do feel myself become again a boy

Now stood beside you feigning I am king.

I’ll flee an you become again that boy

Ere crabs and costards
²⁰
take again to wing.

But still art thou a barnacle, my Guen:

The king hath matters pressing for his time.

I hear no plaint from him and sure I would

For that boy said my ears were long as hounds’.

Indictment without end! Where’s mercy flown?

You’ll mark each scruple
²¹
of my youthful crimes?

The bill of charge
²²
is ’graved upon my heart.

Then care of state must stand aside whilst I

Prepare defense or plead for clemency.

’Tis bootless, still may hope eternal spring.
²³

An if my sister irks you not, my king,

Excuse me now to counsel with your stabler:

I fear my horse has taken bots.
²⁴

Your leave

I freely grant to nurse your steed, on term

You swear, good earl, to feast with me this night.

I take it ’pon my death, your majesty.

Exit Cornwall

You find me altered much from what I was?

I cannot stick in speech my brawling thoughts.

Then you are not so changed from woodland boy

That I unchangingly did love.

Not changed?

But now I wear the costume of a king.

So did you in those best of all my days.

’Tis true, I clad myself as ancient kings,

As Caesar, Solon, Hebrew David, Saul.

Do I seem no more suited to this garb?

No more, no less. I thought you perfect king

In Gloucester’s oaks, when reigning from a branch

You daily sent me to my death.

Say no.

But yes.

A tyrant and a fool was I.

I would have piping now, not drums and fife.
²⁵

But soft, did you not say you loved that boy?

I did.

But love no more? What love is this

That sang to you when I was crowned with twigs

But chokes now when my crown’s all wrapped in gold?

That sylvan king did not requite my love,

Remember this, but banished me from him,

Bid leave him with my brother, much preferred,

As Constantine was precious to that court.

A dreary
²⁶
king he was, that despot child.

I would that I could reach across time’s moat

To lay my hand upon this purblind
²⁷
boy

And tell him love that wondrous nymph he sees.

Nay, I’ll not ever say that he was me,

For were it I who sat a day with you,

And love the issue of our argument,

’Tis sure that I would answer you in kind
²⁸

And offer tenderest affections, Guen.

If, as you say, this forest boy did not,

Then how dare he lay claim to being me?

And yet, if he was never me, how can

I hope that you will offer still your heart?

What, what? Will you mock love to me now, King?

Make light of common hearts, kings’ privilege?