Level of Autonomy

This story contains mention of suicide.

“You walked right into it, Lance. You did not even have your sword in your hand. You know suicide is a mortal sin! What were you thinking?”

“I had no choice,” Sir Lancelot du Lac whispered to his cousin Sir Bors, who was kneeling beside him in the dust of the combat arena.

Sir Bors concern for Lancelot was being expressed as an angry tirade. Bors was angry with the circumstances which dictated that he must forever watch his cousin strive against himself, body, soul and heart, to do the right, just, and heroic thing.

He was angry at the cumulative toll the physical and emotional wounds were taking on him.

Most of all Bors was angry with the folk in Malory Tennyson’s Cloudbank Cabin for Arthurian Studies. Every time the Artisans in Residence in Cloudbank Cabin wrote, painted, filmed or composed music on the subject of Arthuriana, the characters in the Fog Lake and Cloudbank at the foot of the cabin were compelled to re-enact their stories. The characters in the Fog Lake had no more say in their lives than the actors in the dramas and the puppet mannikins which performed for the court’s amusement.

Bors was always diligent in performing his role, which was not an onerous one, mostly consisting of supporting his brilliant cousin, and was crowned with the achievement of success in the Quest for the Holy Grail.

It had always been Bors’ responsibility to support Lancelot, ever since as children Bors and his brother, Lionel had joined Lancelot, five years his junior, in the foster care of Nimue, the Lady of the Lake.

Bors was usually the one who kept Lancelot accountable for turning up on time, at the very last moment, to turn the tide of a battle, fight for the underdog in a land dispute or rescue a damsel in distress.

All the characters knew their roles and the exact choreography for the fights they were required to perform in the Fog Lake. Lancelot referred to his role as his Hero’s To Do List and was usually conscientious about completing the tasks involved exactly.

The scene which had just been enacted for the benefit of the current Artisan in Residence at Cloudbank Cabin, Little Plump Jo, was the trial by combat which followed Queen Guinevere being accused of poisoning Sir Patrise at her dinner party.

Sir Lancelot du Lac was defending the honour of Queen Guinevere against Sir Mador de la Porte, the brother of the deceased.

The script called for Lancelot to win easily, disarming his opponent, with a quick flick of the wrist. This usually brought disappointed boos from the onlookers, who wanted to see a longer, better fight and some blood. Lancelot then had to go to Mador to help him up and accept his surrender. Mador, humiliated and infuriated, was to have reached for his fallen sword and struck Lancelot. Lancelot was to anticipate the blow and sweep it away with his sword but still receive a cut on his thigh – not a very serious cut – just sufficient to appease the onlookers and demonstrate the cowardly, sniveling, dastardly, devious nature of Sir Mador and Lancelot’s noble, heroic, loyal service to Queen Guinevere. It needed to be just deep enough to hint at the possibility that Lancelot would not be fit to participate in the Tournament for the Ninth Diamond; but not severe enough to prevent him from actually competing and winning. It was to be the wound of which Lancelot would claim that ‘it lets me from the saddle’ in order to remain in Camelot with Queen Guinevere, who would claim to be ill, while the king and court went to the tournament.

The tale which immediately followed this incident was centred on the Tournament for the Ninth Diamond. It was the episode which Lancelot had come to dread most in the Fog Lake re-enactments. It was the tragic tale of Sir Lancelot and the Fair Maid of Astolat.

Despite pleading the wound Lancelot had received from Sir Mador, Queen Guinevere would tell him that he must go to the tournament, as there was gossip in the court about their affair.

He would become lost on his way and lodge overnight with Bernard of Astolat and his family – sons Torre and Lavaine and daughter, Elaine the Fair, Elaine the Lovely, the Lily Maid of Astolat. Intending to fight in disguise he would borrow a shield from Torre and the young Elaine (who had fallen in love with him at first sight) would beg him to carry her scarlet sleeve embroidered with pearls on his helmet to further the disguise.

Lancelot would be victorious in the tournament but be severely wounded. Elaine would nurse him for months on end and then, when it became obvious that Lancelot did not return her love, she would pine away and die. Elaine’s body would be taken to Camelot by barge, with a lily and her farewell letter to Lancelot in her hands. Malory Tennyson had told this story under both his pen names, Sir Thomas Malory and Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

On this occasion the trial by combat with Sir Mador had ended very differently.

After Lancelot had clearly won, disarming his opponent with a quick flick of the wrist, he grounded his own sword before approaching Mador to accept his surrender. Mador, however, adhered to the choreography of the fight, reached for his fallen sword and slashed Lancelot across the thigh. The crowd drew a collective gasp of horror as not just a trickle but a gush of blood issued.

The stewards could be seen holding their arms up in an X formation indicating a genuine unscripted serious injury had occurred and Malory Tennyson could be heard yelling “ We are not producing a Bresson film!”

A Cockney accented voice in the crowd piped up, “Or a Monty Python parody!”

The litter which was not supposed to be required for this combat and was therefore being serviced was brought out after a short delay and Lancelot was rushed to the physicians’ tent.

The Fog Lake roiled and churned and the Cloudbank descended with the swish of a theatre curtain falling.

“What is happening, Malory?” asked Little Plump Jo.

“I do not know myself!” Malory replied. “I hope you have not broken the Fog Lake with your inept writing! First you lost control over Elaine of Astolat. She demanded autonomy and to be known as Charlotte-Elaine, The Lady of Shalott, entrepreneur owner of Charlotte’s Web Weaving. That disrupted the plotlines and every other characters’ story arc. That was quite amusing! I could forgive that!

But now it appears that you have caused Lancelot’s death and the repercussions of that happening at this stage in the epic are absolutely unimaginable!

I will go and see if I can find out what is happening.”

Three days later the Cloudbank lifted and the Fog Lake rolled in again.

“What were you thinking? Why did you do that ?” Bors asked again. He was now seated at Lancelot’s bedside.

“I did not have a choice, Bors!” Lancelot replied. “It was the only way I could think of to avoid having to play out the following chapters. I know what comes next. I will be the cause of the death of Elaine. I will betray my best friend and cause the downfall of Camelot. I want it to stop, Bors. Surely I do not have to repeat this hero/villain role forever.”

“You are not responsible for the fall of Camelot, Lance.” Bors stated firmly. “That is completely Mordred’s doing. He needs to break the alliance between you and Arthur to have any chance of grabbing the throne and he will use any scandal that exists, or that he can create, to make that happen.”

“I do not want to be the one to give him any opportunity.”

“Mordred’s story is already written. If he cannot implicate you in some way he will stir up something else to divide the loyalties of the court. He could use the Orkney faction’s disputes or the King Mark/Sir Tristram quarrels . We know Mordred is already aligned with the Saxons and trying to stir up the Picts.”

“I don’t want to go on like this, Bors."

“I know. You have a tough road, Lance. But you know that you just have to endure, keep on walking your path. Keep the faith. He who endures to the end will be saved. And you want to be buried in your tomb at your castle Joyous Garde.That will not be able to happen if you suicide. You would be buried in unhallowed ground outside the castle walls.”

Lancelot’s dark eyes widened in shock.

“No Bors. I did not intend to die!

I just wanted my wound to be severe enough that there would be no question at all about whether I would be able to compete in the Tournament for the Ninth Diamond. When I say I cannot compete I hoped that nobody would question it and say I am staying behind to be with Queen Guinevere. I would not have to compete wearing Elaine’s sleeve and then break her heart when I could not return her love.”

“Well, you have certainly achieved that!” said Bors, looking at Lancelot’s leg swathed in splinting and bandages and supported in position by bolsters. “You will not be walking, let alone riding, for several months. But you look a great risk! Morgan Todd says he has seen many men bleed out from similar wounds.”

“What if Guinevere wants to visit often and the love affair rumours increase?”

Lancelot was silent and thoughtful for several minutes.

“ Maybe I should go to Joyous Garde to recover. If Arthur does go to war with Mordred, I can come back and fight for him.”

Just as he spoke those words, King Arthur appeared in the doorway “I would not hear of it, dear fellow. You must winter here with us in Camelot, with the best care available. I can do no less for the man who defended the honour of my wife."

"This year the jousters will be competing for a large emerald," King Arthur continued. "That will suit my nephew, Sir Gawain very nicely, as it matches his clan colours. He is favoured by the pundits to win now that you cannot compete.

As you have won the eight previous Diamond Tournaments and, I am sure, would like the opportunity to win the Ninth and final diamond to complete the set, I have declared that the Tournament for the Ninth Diamond is to be postponed until you are well.

And Guinevere was quite distraught about your injury. She will be coming in to sit with you soon."