The Quest of Autumn
See before you the challenge laid forth which I have twisted into my own designs. Lacking the necessary artistry required, I have adapted this in order that I might have ado with the concepts in another way.
Index
Sword
And when matins and the first mass was done, there was seen in the churchyard, against the high altar, a great stone four square, like unto a marble stone; and in midst thereof was like an anvil of steel a foot on high, and therein stuck a fair sword naked by the point, and letters there were written in gold about the sword that said thus:—Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil, is rightwise king born of all England.
Throughtout Le Morte D'Arthur, men live and die by the sword. It is (sort of) the primary weapon of the knight (sometimes second to the lance) and is central to the mode of combat of the trained man. It is noted that fighting with the sword is a young man's game, whereas jousting can be done excellently even by the more seasoned/aged knights. This is, in part due to the raw stamina that is required to fight the type of man to man combat we see once the dismount has occured; the fights (between singular combatants) can potentially last for hours and so long even that one's sword may become dull (a huge advantage of an unbreakable blade such as Excalibur). The sword is also used on horseback in place of the lance when fighting a terrestrial opponent and we often see these attacks cleaving halfway though the heads and torsos of (presumably, at least partially) armored knights (see sharp).
Secret
Secrets of all types are present in our tale, however there is one particular type of secret that I find most interesting: the ubiquitous concealed identity afforded to knights (likely by their armor, standard, etc.). It is very common for heroes and villains alike to fail to recognize each other and we often see allies fighting each other only for the simple reason of not knowing that they are on the same team. It seems a bit absurd at first glance, however, revealing oneself (sometimes even to friends) actually seems to be disadvantageous in general for the knight. This is because of three key factors: First, it reveals one’s power level to the opponent which completely removes any chance of bluffing or sandbagging (which are helpful in many cases). Through much of text, combat is the way in which the power hierarchy is discovered and while revealing your place in it through words would be expedient, it does not afford flexibility, nor a chance to perhaps catch someone unawares and prove oneself. Second, it often seems to reveal unwelcome connections more than not; for example revealing that you are a man who has killed someone’s father/brother/son, instantly creating a threat. If you are a famous enough knight, it is all the more likely you have wronged many people in service of your duty (or due to your negligence, etc.). Finally, there is the potential that your revealed identity will obligate you to random quests from a passersby. This can, of course, happen to any knight, but it is much more likely if you are well known. Despite the goofy situations it leads to, in general, the secret identity of the knight is a handy tool for managing the martial and social structure of the realm.
Giant
Giants, as presented in Le Morte D'Arthur are found mostly in the first phase of the text and seem to primarily exist on the edges or outside of the civilized realm. In fact, it seems that narratively they are the wild, untamed land and all the savagery it brings incarnate. This fact is most starkly demonstrated in their violent tendencies (cannibalism, rape, collection of human trophies, etc.) but can also be seen in the more subtle way they seem to inhabit areas which have been claimed/reclaimed by the wilds or perhaps just disrepair (like Tintagil perhaps). They are the chiefly heathen (in the most classic sense of the word even) antagonists and it's clearly bad news when Christendom aligns with them (as we see with Arthur's march to Rome). The first time we see Arthur do battle with a giant is a stark and grizzly scene that shakes the reader away from the usual (somewhat more tame) knight-on-knight combat. Arthur, after deeply wounding the giant, wrestles him on the hill and in the end kills him with a dagger; ordaining that the hill itself be devoted to the worship of St. Michael (this place is literally Mont-Saint-Michel) and in doing so, conquering the high, heathen place in the name of Christendom, bringing civilization to the wilds. I'm no scholar of medieval symbolism, but there's a bunch of stuff found in the fight and it's worth considering how Arthur wounds the giant and how he wins in the end. Further, just the immediate description shows that the view of the outsider to Arthur's "civilization" is viewed as large, brutish, gluttonous, and cruel; dominating the poor people who live within the unenlightened realms (In this particular section, it also seems like there is a hint that Rome is falling down on the job by letting this happen). For Camelot, giants do not seem to be redeemable as men often are, but instead are a scourge with wicked and cruel customs and ways to be dealt with in order to bring order and peace to the land and people. Once Arthur has established his reign and many establishing quests are done, it seems they giants all but die out narratively.
Badon Hill
Interestingly, it seems that Malory has omitted the specific battle of Badon Hill in his work so when I first saw this I was unfamiliar with the conflict. After a bit of research, it seems that the battle was collapsed into some summaries of victories in the work and also that the Saxon invaders that were represented in the original conflict had generally been replaced with Saracens in Malory's work. There is reference fairly early on to the eleven kings (who had aligned themselves against Arthur) having to deal with invaders:
These eleven kings have more on hand than they are ware of, for the Saracens are landed in their countries, more than forty thousand, that burn and slay, and have laid siege at the castle Wandesborow, and make great destruction; therefore dread you not this three year.
I think this is the inciting incident for what would eventually be the invaders being pushed back and defeated in a set of unnamed battles which include Badon hill. I've had a tough time nailing down where that actually is in the text though; there are more mentions of the invaders troubling the eleven kings, but I'm not totally sure where the whole thing is concluded. Wikipedia features some un-cited assertions that it's also called the Battle of Clarence but that's not in Malory's text (that I can find). I would certainly welcome someone clarifying this for me if you know exactly where it's mentioned. Regardless, the concept of repelling invaders is foundational to the first phase of the text where Arthur is cleaning up the kingdom and solidifying power; uniting the various kings against threats domestic and foreign.
Lord
Then stood the realm in great jeopardy long while, for every lord that was mighty of men made him strong, and many weened to have been king.
From the start of Arthurs reign (and even before it) the lords of the realm lacked no ambition to take a bit more lordship for themselves. The power of any given lord seems to be enough to at least create a bit of peril for the kingdom but together they represent an entirely destabilizing element; quelling such instability oft requires aid from abroad, acts of God, acts of Merlin, or simply much grave battle. Outside of the more dire situations, the lords do still put pressure and expectations upon Arthur, pushing him towards marriage among other things. Even after all of these measures are taken to align the lordship with Arthur, every so often we still find a lord who is willing to take his chance to expand his fortunes, though it's often more through underhanded means (like slowly accumulating all of Arthur's knights in their dungeons). It seems that each lord can field anywhere between hundreds to thousands of men at arms (often with allegiances first to the lord and then second to the crown) and each is usually in possession of castle and the accompanying lands as well as the resources that come with them.
Lady
Ladies (and damosels) have an interesting set of roles in the text. There are basically 3 classes one ou can path into as a woman in the text: lady, healer, or sorceress (or maybe a little of each). Later in the text we also see the introduction of grail-maiden and recluse (for the more pious-minded). However, one role that is common to all is quest-giver as all ladies of note are more than happy to provide a quest to any passing good knights. While they are reliant on knights to really get things done, they truly do seem to have considerable influence as it is rare for a knight to deny a request (even if it be passing perilous). At the same time, there is a surprising amount of reverence towards the wisdom/council of some of the more prominent ladies we find in the text. In particular, I found it to be notable that a common practice was to send errant knights (or damosels) back to Guinevere for judgement. Additionally, Morgan le Fay (who lacks no introduction) is incredibly influential, being a chief antagonist with many knights who have sworn their allegiance to her rather than any lord. While I don't think that Malory presents some sort of feminist paradise, I was honestly surprised how much more egalitarian the text was than I was expecting; power, influence, and impact are not at all reserved for the men.
Companionship
"Alas, said Sir Palomides, it is great pity that ever so noble a knight should be so mischieved for the love of a lady; but nevertheless, I will go and seek him, and comfort him an I may. Then a little before that time La Beale Isoud had commanded Sir Kehydius out of the country of Cornwall. So Sir Kehydius departed with a dolorous heart, and by adventure he met with Sir Palomides, and they enfellowshipped together; and either complained to other of their hot love that they loved La Beale Isoud. Now let us, said Sir Palomides, seek Sir Tristram, that loved her as well as we, and let us prove whether we may recover him. So they rode into that forest, and three days and three nights they would never take their lodging, but ever sought Sir Tristram."
Here we see a stunning, yet relatable and hilarious moment of deep companionship (and bro-ness) between the knights. Despite Palomides' bitter rivalry with Tristram, he is still willing to seek out the crazed knight in order to aid him. Equally striking is that Kehydius is willing to join in this quest as just a few chapters back, Tristram had threatened his life for the love of Isoud. All three of these men love this woman deeply and yet these two knight are able to commiserate (both for their love and their rejection) and join each other as companions in their sadness. We see here what I believe to be a fairly central (yet somewhat unspoken) tenant of chivalric knighthood; the bond of honor between knights. They see virtue in the very existence of a good knight and seek to restore them when they are damaged, even if it were to their own determent. They are willing to set aside differences for common goals or to salve common wounds. It may be me misreading the old English here, but there also is an interesting note to be found in the statement that they should "prove" that they may recover him. In general knights are want to prove things in general (to increase renown and whatnot), however here it's certainly possible that there is a personal reason to prove such a thing as well. It seems likely to me that the following question might linger on Palomides' mind: can a man who has gone mad for love be recovered? Is there hope for a lover himself who is oft sorrowed by his love for Isoud?
Beast
There really is only one beast of note in the work and it is, of course, the Questing Beast. It's a baffling sort of animal, very much like some sort of chimera perhaps (though some people interpret it as a giraffe somehow).
...the Questing Beast that had in shape a head like a serpent’s head, and a body like a leopard, buttocks like a lion, and footed like an hart; and in his body there was such a noise as it had been the noise of thirty couple of hounds questing, and such a noise that beast made wheresomever he went...
It's clearly something that transcends the animal kingdom, both in the literal sense and in the literary sense. As far as I am aware, no giraffe nor any other terrestrial creature sounds like 30+ hounds on the hunt, so I think that covers the literal sense pretty well. Initially, the QB is followed by Pellinore who indicates that it is the quest of his lineage and no one else can have/achieve the quest, however, he is later (after his death) replaced by Palomides who follows it tirelessly (so much so that he makes it the emblem on his shield). It seems to me that the beast is a type of consuming obsession; the question is what that obsession is. In the text, when Paolmides fails (again) at an attempt for the love of Isoud, he goes back to his (Sisyphean) quest for the beast as if it is a default state or some greater obsession than his interest in Isoud. I would think that if the beast represented his obsession with her, it would not be here as an alternative. Or maybe it would and it's just a parallel. For Palomides, most things he does seem like fruitless striving after the wind and perhaps this is just another example; but maybe not. In the end, once Palomides converts, he is able to achieve the quest with the help of friends, but I feel this is a happy ending tacked on (a later story) which doesn't really help us know what the beast really is.
Favour
Then the king for great favour made Tramtrist to be put in his daughter’s ward and keeping, because she was a noble surgeon.
The acquisition of favour is not mentioned directly all that often in the text, but infuses the entirety of the chivalric order. And who amongst us doesn't desire to be favored by someone (or everyone)? It's a very human desire (and tendency) but the impact within the medieval context certainly amplifies it's importance over the simple day to day favor we see in our lives; the western/democratic/egalitarian order that we find ourselves in means that to curry favor with an important person matters so much less. In contrast, having favor with a lord, lady, or better yet, the king can directly translate into material support, action, defense, aid, etc. Being in the good graces of the powerful is not mere lip-service, but is indeed a matter of life and death. And thus actions to prove oneself useful, reliable, and knightly in general often have the added benefit of building up positive reputation with these would-be patrons.
Tourney
The many tournaments found throughout the work appear to be a critical political tool for maintaining order and balance within Camelot (and probably anywhere with the same sort of chivalric order). Beyond being an interesting sort of entertainment, the tourney culture achieves two important goals for the kingdom: First, it ensures that all of the pent up martial power of the various lords and knights is properly channeled into a non-destructive (for the most part) avenue where everyone is able to get their aggression, feuds, and general showboatery out in the open and expended for a time. Second, it seems to perform the same function as the various individual jousts/duels we see between knights; determination of power levels. Lords and their forces (or individual passing great knights) are able to see how they stack up within the kingdom and similarly, Arthur (or whoever is hosting the event) is able to judge the strength of his own forces. One can tire out their forces, get in some good training, and see how they match up to the king or whoever else might be of interest. Additionally, the (most) victorious knights / lords gain favor and renown within the land in the eyes of both the common people and the gentry. For the majority of the work, these are fairly bloodless (with many injuries, but usually manageable), but as time goes on in the story, it seems like they become more and more dangerous (perhaps as the age of chivalry wanes).
Feast
There are two general categories of feast in the Arthurian world (at least as presented by Malory); holidays and hospitality. Essentially all Christian holy days are celebrated with a feast of some sort which provides both the observance of the sacred, but also a time for the general recall of all errant knights back to their home-base in order to exchange news (or tales), refresh themselves, and deal with personal/political matters. Arthur himself is said to not even want to eat at a feast until he's heard of a great adventure/tale. The political aspect also seems to extend to other lords within the realm and thus a holiday feast seems to also provide a time for proverbial fence-mending and bridge-building for gentry. In the more general sense, we see feasts as an act of hospitality (which of course, extends to the holidays as well). Visitors from abroad are oft greeted by a feast of some sort, as are knight who have taken on or completed a quest. They seem to be used by the maker of the feast to provide something, as is expected in all hospitality cultures, but also for them to assess the newcomer to the feast. All feasts, of course, also function as a sort of flex; they are expected to be a show of power/wealth/influence to all around (internally/externally).
Steed
Ah steeds, the unsung heroes of the the medieval world. In my recollection of the mentions of horses, it seems that they are essentially never given a name nor much recognition beyond perhaps their level of haste or endurance. However, they are exceedingly important, not only as the way to get around without having to walk, but as a portable high-ground from which to fight. A knight on a horse has such a combat advantage, that they mightn't even waste their time fighting an unhorsed knight (unless they are in a war/great battle). It is thus the right course of action to dismount to honorably fight a knight who has been unhorsed which we see quite often. Horses do manage to get themselves killed fairly often, with exhaustion being a rather surprising killer that crops up more frequently than I anticipated (though my lack of horse knowledge abounds). They are quite likely targets of a lance or a sword in a the middle of a large battle and even in bouts of one on one combat, they have a tendency to be killed. In the event that a rather passing cool knight gets unhorsed, we see what I consider to be a rather comical sight; allied knights working very hard to re-horse the fallen knight. It's understandable given the aforementioned combat advantage (if we ignore pikes), but there still is something rather funny about multiple knights stopping what they are doing, mid-battle to try and hijack (or donate) a steed to a fallen comrade.
Alone
So upon a day, in the dawning, Sir Palomides went into the forest by himself alone; and there he found a well, and then he looked into the well, and in the water he saw his own visage, how he was disturbed and defaded, nothing like that he was.
Being alone, as a knight, is perilous in more ways than one. In the same sense as perhaps a western film, there is something to be considered about a lone rider; they are either in danger or dangerous (or perhaps both). Even a good knight alone without his companions is either at great risk of being taken by some stronger group or some rouge lord or enchantress. However, if that knight be more liken to a main character (Tristan, Lancelot, etc.) then their alone-ness is more a narrative (and sometimes literal) proof of their prowess and courage. Interestingly, in the aforementioned quote, there is a hidden peril in the lone knight and that seems to be the more psychological aspect of the thing. It's not always easy to strike out alone and it seems that it might be more likely for those in the stories already dealing with some internal struggles. My reading (and recollection) of the text is that being a lone knight is socially strange or an anomaly; it clearly happens some, but there seems to be a thought that it is unusual (unless the quest demands it). While it is not from this particular text, we can also see the same sort of view of the perils in The Green Knight where the quest presented poses both the physical perils from lack of support and the internal perils of despair when one is out on the trail alone.
Lover
You could write many books concerning lovers in Le Morte D'Arthur on all sorts of topics, from all manner of angles, but I want to look at one particular, funny sort of statement within the text:
Then the barons gathered them together, and said plainly they would not have those ladies burnt for an horn made by sorcery, that came from as false a sorceress and witch as then was living. For that horn did never good, but caused strife and debate, and always in her days she had been an enemy to all true lovers.
If you've not read about the magic horn which always spills when you try to drink from it if you're unfaithful, please go check it out. The thing I find most funny here is the accusation that Morgan Le Fey is an enemy to all true lovers. This, of course, is dubiously ironic given that it seems like the vast majority of the court is unfaithful in one way or another and are just trying to make some quick excuses; but at the same time, the type of strife that such a device sows could actually be something from an enemy to the "true lover" as it sows a type of doubt that could be hard to shake, even in the lover. One might even ask if it actually is just a vessel from which it's really hard to drink. It's an ingenious ploy by Morgan and for what it's worth, I don't think her to be an enemy to the true lover, but rather, I have been convinced that she is a friend to the true lover (or at least her brother) as a number of her schemes seem to be aimed at preventing or revealing unfaithful lovers.
Magic
The presence of magic seems to be fairly front-loaded; that is to say that it (in my recollection) is seen far more often in the first portion of the narrative. Merlin is, of course, a nexus of much magic as he seem to be able to do all manner of useful things such as disguises, writing in gold letters, prophesying, something akin to teleportation, and many other small things. What is most interesting to me is that magic is fairly opaque, subtle, and fading as time goes on (in ways that remind me of Tolkien perhaps (or more likely it inspired him)). It is not explained how it works and there is a vague implication that Merlin's magic is being used in service of ensuring the success of Arthur (as if it be willed by God). There is a weird intermingling of religion and magic where it seems to be somewhat congruent in the case of Merlin (though he is also a devil-spawn), but maybe less so with other strange folk like Morgan Le Fay or Hellawes. As we get closer to the Grail Quest, things are less magic and more just acts of the divine / grail which seems like something else. The sword in the stone is a divine act, but also seems like magic in a way. In contrast, the thralls of Hellawes are clearly there by necromancy which is disconnected from goodness. Morgan herself seems to be able to produce or procure magic items (cloaks that catch on fire, horns that detect unfaithfulness, enchanted ships) and items like Excalibur and it's scabbard come from the strange lake folk like Nimue. I am likely missing a lot more of the subtle stuff (and I'm sure other sources provide more insight) but in summary it seems that the following is true: Magic can be learned (Nimue learns from Merlin), magic use is limited to very few people (more women than men), magic items can be made or just exist, magic is linked with the supernatural (an implication of divine and diabolic sources of magical power), magic is fading from the narrative as time goes on.
Unknown
There are really only two mentions of the word unknown in the text and both of them refer to a concept which I discussed a bit earlier: hidden identities. In both instances, due to the concealing effect of armor (or other factors which are hard to know), our heroes engage in combat with one another unawares. The first example ends in a most tragic fashion, that of Balin and Balan. Balin, (fresh from his Dolorous Stroke, with his cursed second sword) comes upon a castle defended by a knight that he cannot recognize (partially because his shield has been swapped). The two knights fight a terrible battle until both are at the point of death at which they realize in their final desperation that they are brothers. While the displaying of proper shields or standards might have made this situation alright, it is still the fact of their concealed faces from the armor that really seals the deal here. The second main occurrence of this word in the text is the battle of Lancelot and Tristram upon the spot prophesized by Merlin:
And at that time Merlin prophesied that in that same place should fight two the best knights that ever were in Arthur’s days, and the best lovers.
Given that Lancelot and Tristram are both fan-favorites and essentially main characters (something like Goku vs Superman), the fight, while likely equally (or even more) brutal than Balin vs Balan, ends in a draw; after four hours of combat, Tristram finally asks for a name at which point both yielded to each other. It's an predictable, but understandable narrative choice given the status of these characters, but still highlights the weirdness of operating without knowledge of your foes. The cost of anonymity seems to be the ever-present risk of harm to potential friends. Whether or not this is a truage, I a uncertain.
Armed
To be "armed at all points" (armed cap-à-pie perhaps) is a common phrase found throughout the work which indicates a a fully armored state. Interestingly, when thinking about the way the word armed is used now (meaning with weapon), I think the wording may have shifted a bit given that this seems to be in reference directly to armor and not to the weapons, as they are mentioned separately.
...in the way where stood a knight-errant on horseback, armed at all points, with a great spear in his hand.
The 'points' one may be armed at seem fairly self-explanatory as all the points one might be struck at, however this particular thought has made me wonder if the armor Malory is describing is somehow an anachronism. It is my understanding that full plate was at it's height in his time and likely would not have been the main type of armor pre 1000AD (seems like it might be leather/chainmail primarily), but I'm not totally sure. Being armed at all points sure sounds like a full suit of (plate) armor, so I think this could be a case of Malory modernizing the description for his audience (feel free to contradict this if you know more about it). Also, when you consider the way combat tends to go, the getting the opponent to the ground and unlacing their helm seem to be pretty critical parts which seems similarly consistent with full plate which, if my memory serves, requires this kind of tactic to defeat.
Bold
And when Sir Launcelot would have gone throughout them, they scattered on every side of him, and gave him the way, and therewith he waxed all bold, and entered into the chapel, and then he saw no light but a dim lamp burning, and then was he ware of a corpse hilled with a cloth of silk.
The word and concept of boldness seemingly hasn't changed at all in the ~600 years since this text (and to be honest, much of Malory is really easy to understand). The simple act of being bold or emboldened is a highly valued trait of the chivalric-age knights (so long as they are acting within the general social expectations). An individual who knows their own strength or perhaps even over-estimates it a touch and is able to act upon it is dangerous and powerful. It is this particular mindset that enables a culture of quest-giving/taking and the accomplishment of great deeds that we find mainly within the first 2/3rds of the text. The over-estimation does lead to some pretty spectacular failures a few times, but in general it is prized. However, once we enter the grail-quest era, the chivalric values are invalidated in favor of holiness (and a type of humility perhaps). Bold knights like Lancelot get dunked on constantly during the grail quest basically due to boldness. It could be argued that the (real, true) type of boldness that is prized has just been revealed, and that might be true, but it is jarring. I speak about that a bit more here.
Prisoner
Folks in the text get taken prisoner a lot more often than one might expect. I'd assume that the reason that so many knights (and damosels) get taken prisoner so often is due to their innate value alive. Even a knight that has been diminished by being held in a dungeon is valued by his lord and it seems likely that they will pay a ransom or give into demands unless they plan to risk an escalation of conflict. Knights, beyond their martial value, have symbolic and investment value that has to be taken into account; in many ways, the collective prestige and training of any given lord's or king's knights basically defines his influence as a ruler/leader. Another reason for so many prisoners is probably the simple fact that no one really wants to be a murderer. It's certainly more convenient to remove enemy knights from the board via death, however the reputation one can develop for doing this (in a dishonorable way) is certainly worse than just being the guy who kidnaps folks. To be clear, it's not a great look either, but it doesn't quite stoke the ire of everyone around you as much and the result is more likely a jailbreak than an assassination. There is a brief aside in the text about how much it sucks to be a prisoner (and being sick in prison) which is very clearly a self-insert by Malory who was writing the text while in prison. Evil lords do provide evil lodging for prisoners, but it's not always the worst thing ever and really just depends on who you are dealing with.
Rescue
While there are plenty of rescues in the text, the one that stands out to me at the present moment is when Sir Lancelot saves a lady (Elaine I think) from a cursed tower. This one seems pretty classic (damosel in a tower, etc.), but the curse was strikingly horrific:
Ah, fair knight, said they all, here is within this tower a dolorous lady that hath been there in pains many winters and days, for ever she boileth in scalding water; and but late, said all the people, Sir Gawaine was here and he might not help her, and so he left her in pain.
This is around the start (or right before the) grail-quest, so things have certainly gotten more Biblical in description perhaps as this feels rather hellish to me. It's stated that this is a curse by Morgan Le Fey due to the fairness of the lady who is the fairest in all the land (another classic fairytale vibe). Regardless of the reason, it is Lancelot who comes to her rescue as the curse could only be broken by the best knight of the world which, of course, was him (and not Gawaine, why did he even try?). There are a few other notable factors in this rescue which we don't really see much elsewhere. First, the rescued lady was naked, which is a bit striking as I don't think disrobedness is mentioned almost anywhere else in the text. Second, the tower itself is described as the fairest Lancelot had ever saw and the lady (once clothed) as fair as Guinevere. Third, directly after this rescue, the lady asks to go thank God in a chapel and it is this that kicks off a mini-quest for Lancelot to slay a dragon right then. If I were better at medieval symbology, I feel like I would have more to definitively say about this whole experience. I feel it is likely that there is much to unpack here. In some of my discussions with other readers, the conclusion was that the ensuing factors point to this woman being ideal for Lancelot (rather than his other love).
Hound
Hounds and bratchets feature heavily in the first section of the text (and less later). It seems likely to me that this and many of the other ways the text changes has to do with Malory's sources and the way he complies them. Hounds are an important tool of medieval game hunting and so it makes sense why they would be relatable to readers who likely had seen them in action (or even used them). We get a really striking story pretty early on (during the quest of the hart) where Gawaine's hounds are killed and it pretty much causes him to go berserk, killing an innocent lady in the process of trying to dispatch his dogs' killer. I found this to be somewhat understandable on balance (and I think many feel the same about their pets). In unrelated news, I actually personally love the word bratchet; it's a female hound (not unlike the word bitch), but most importantly it's where the word brat is derived which I just find really funny. We all know what a brat is intuitively, but I had never heard the etymology discussed and I don't think anyone knows that it's a canine term. Also, it just has a really nice sound to it without being overly harsh or all that offensive to the modern ear (since again, basically no one knows what it means). In the text we see a number of ladies who have bratchets and one even tries to send one to Tristram as an offer of love; if I read it correctly, it seems that despite rejecting the lady so hard that she dies, he also keeps the dog.
Trust
So after, for great trust, Arthur betook the scabbard to Morgan le Fay his sister, and she loved another knight better than her husband King Uriens or King Arthur, and she would have had Arthur her brother slain, and therefore she let make another scabbard like it by enchantment, and gave the scabbard Excalibur to her love; and the knight’s name was called Accolon, that after had near slain King Arthur.
King Arthur might honestly be a bit too trusting. Some might even say that the amount of trust he puts in some people in his life verges on willful ignorance (and I tend to a agree). Despite his blood relation with Morgan, it seems to be clear enough that he should not have trusted her with something as important as the scabbard (which Merlin had just scolded Arthur about). This particular instance of mistrust nearly kills Arthur and really is a bad time for Accolon as well. But to me, the much more dramatic and tragic bit of misplaced trust is that of Arthur's trust in Sir Lancelot and his own wife Guinevere. He carries on his trust far beyond what is reasonable, failing to see that the affection Lancelot shows towards his wife is no mere knightly admiration and loyalty. Likewise, he gives Guinevere every benefit of the doubt for quite a while in the text. If he had been just a little less trusting, he could have avoided a pretty terrible catastrophe, but I think it is likely that he just couldn't not trust them (as so much of his life was built on it). To admit a lack of confidence in either of them would be to admit that those he loved most had both betrayed him and that is just something no one wants to ever do.
Curse
For this particular word, I don't actually wish to cover magical curses, cursed swords, or even curse words, but a particular cursing that occurs within the text a number of times. The phrase ...curse the time... usually followed by that ever I blank or that blank occurred. It is an expression of regret at a past action or past event, but the phrasing catches me for some reason. What does it mean to curse a time in the past? The meaning is, of course, clear; It simply states that "I wish this never happened" like the classic George Baily line: "I wish I'd never been born".
And when Sir Launcelot heard this he was passing heavy and wist not what to do, and so departed sore weeping, and cursed the time that he was born.
But to say that you curse the time feels a bit more impotent(?) perhaps. It's like the next best thing I guess. We can't make the bad thing not happen, but we can remember it negatively I suppose. We can all think ill of the day when the tragic event occurred. We can utter a dreadful word when someone reminds us of a dark happening in the past. Maybe that is too literal, but beyond the regret, I want to understand what it means to a person to curse a time, a day, a moment; is there a point that extends beyond regret? Thinking about it a little more in the context, I feel like it probably is a shorthand prayer that God would literally make it not so or something of that nature (Much like the curse found in Job 3). Many modern profanities come from minced oaths and religious terms and so it would make sense that maybe this particular action comes from a similar root.
Chivalry
Chivalry is a loaded term with a fairly wide set of preconceptions associated with it. In Le Morte D'Arthur, we get to see the development of the actual thing; from the culture and technology that define it initially to the state of things that lead to the modern imagining of what it is. Chivalry is a word that (unsurprisingly) comes simply from cavalry. In fact, both it and caballero share the same root, which basically means that knights are cowboys (and they do often tend to operate in that way in the text). There is a type of progression that occurs when game-changing technology is introduced and the political apparatus must respond to properly harness or utilize it (I've been told this is related to stirrups theory). We see this progression in the Arthurian text: A powerful new weapon is produced (the mounted knight), this weapon creates concentrations of power (lords, the king), in order to avoid chaos and to instate order, a culture/political device is put in place to constrain the weapon (chivalric culture and oaths). I believe that we also see a step further as the culture becomes engrained in the individuals and they then begin to operate using it as a framework throughout the stories as well. Lancelot is often called the "Flower of Chivalry" and in my mind, this implies that Arthur is the root; he is the force which manifests the new political/social order out of which a knight like Lancelot can grow. To further expand on the analogy, I think Galahad is the final fruit of chivalry; he is somehow greater than the sum of the parts of the system and the next step to come perhaps.
Hermit
Hermits don't really seem to appear in the text until the Grail Quest era which I put pretty squarely in the "period of holiness" in my reading of the text (based on discussions with my reading group). It makes sense that secluded and prayer-focused life of this type of individual would be found more in this portion of the text. What is interesting is how they do seem to operate as a sort of spiritual interpreter. In fact, they do this so often that it begins to feel like they just pop up to explain to clueless knights how spiritually ignorant they are. One of the most striking of these explanations is of a vision (or advision in the text) where Lancelot sees seven kings and two knights which represent (betokeneth) himself and his lineage (back to Joseph of Arimathea) who are given treasures by God(?) but then one knight (who the hermit explains is Lancelot) is rejected for his misdeeds and his goods are taken back. This vision, along with a few other Lancelot incidents that are also explained by hermits, most strongly denote the tonal and cultural shift found in the latter half of the text. Lancelot, the flower of chivalry, is wrong (and perhaps always has been wrong) in the eyes of heaven and this is laid out clearly by the most reliable source for this sort of thing: hermits. A side note, it seems like hermitages operate as safe-zones or proto-hospitals throughout much of the text where an injured knight can go to have his wounds tended to or to avoid any further conflict. I think this makes sense given the historical context (the Christian tradition of hospitality -> hospitals), but it's just interesting to note.
Sharp
I may have noted this a bit before, but dang some of those swords are incredibly sharp. A fair number of times in the text we see swords cut through helm and head and sometimes even further into the body of the knight (very metal). For example:
So King Pellinore gave him such a stroke upon the helm that he clave the head down to the chin, that he fell to the earth dead.
Or perhaps:
Then Sir Launcelot drew his sword and put the stroke aback, and clave his head unto the paps.
And even:
So by adventure he came by Sir Gawaine, and he smote him so hard that he clave his helm and the coif of iron unto his head, so that Gawaine fell to the earth; but the stroke was so great that it slanted down to the earth and carved the horse’s shoulder in two.
While it's clear that narratively much of this is to depict just how powerful and strong these knights are (and they are), it also implies powerfully honed weapons as well. We actually get to hear about the cream of the crop:
...King David’s sword, your father, the which is the marvelloust and the sharpest that ever was taken in any knight’s hand.
The sword described has a crazy backstory of being made by King Solomon and having been at least partially fashioned out of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil (probably?) which is about as crazy of a legendary item description as you can get. It was some of these descriptions, along with the constant power-ranking and duals that really made me think this would be an ideal candidate for an anime (played totally straight, no interpretation necessary honestly).
Hunt
There is a somewhat strange note (as strange as any particular part of the text is anyway) in which the author takes a moment to remind the reader that Tristram is basically the patron saint of hunting and that many of the main hunting terms originate with him:
...for as books report, of Sir Tristram came all the good terms of venery and hunting, and all the sizes and measures of blowing of an horn; and of him we had first all the terms of hawking, and which were beasts of chase and beasts of venery, and which were vermins, and all the blasts that long to all manner of games. First to the uncoupling, to the seeking, to the rechate, to the flight, to the death, and to strake, and many other blasts and terms, that all manner of gentlemen have cause to the world’s end to praise Sir Tristram, and to pray for his soul.
I, as a first time reader of Arthurian text, have presumed that there are other texts or perhaps just general legends that expound upon this, but it's a rather remarkable fact to just throw out there. Further, the 4th wall breaks are not too frequent, so it does tend to highlight a special fact. There are a few other places that mention Tristram hunting, but nothing that would give the impression that he's the best in the world (no particular feats anyway). As I mentioned earlier, hunting holds a special place among the intended audience and probably carries some additional symbolic and dramatic weight so this likely really rounds out Tristram as a real man's man with an aptitude for not only the gentlemanly art of hunting, but as an individual by being a passionate lover, a fierce fighter, and a lovely bard. I do wonder if there is some sort of hunting subtext that connects it with his love life, but I probably lack the hunting/loving/medieval knowledge to fully parse it at the moment. In Gawain and the Green Knight there is also a hunt which is mirroring a romantic pursuit, so I think that could possibly lend a little credence to the theory as well.
Wound
I've struggled a bit to find the right topic for this particular word. Wound is mentioned quite often in the text and there are plenty of interesting ones to talk about. I've chosen to take a small bit of text which are the last words of King Arthur we read (spoiler warning if the title of the book didn't prepare you for this):
Comfort thyself, said the king, and do as well as thou mayst, for in me is no trust for to trust in; for I will into the vale of Avilion to heal me of my grievous wound: and if thou hear never more of me, pray for my soul.
The wound mentioned is the one given to him by his son, Mordred who had now died at hands; in his dying moments, Mordred had struck deeply into Arthur's head and the king is now on the edge of death. The moment itself is made all the more tragic as it appears that Arthur may have come too late since his companion Bedivere tarried in the disposal of Excalibur. It is my read that he never makes it to Avalon for them to even try to heal him as he is found the next day dead at a nearby chapel and it is reported that at midnight the ladies who were to take him to Avalon had brought him thus. It's a strange moment because as the reader, you do hope for that miraculous ending; it seems possible given what you have seen throughout the text. Even Arthur, in his last moments is clinging to this hope. But the end has come and the small boat to Avalon only takes him to the grave. I felt sad when I read it and I feel sad when I think about it. The end was quicker than I thought, like the way the sun sets in the winter.
Kin
The bond between kinfolk displayed in the text (and likely representative of the time) can be somewhat difficult for me, as a modern American, to properly feel / understand. While I love and cherish my family, the bond is not so extended nor so honor-bound as I feel we see it in the text. For example, were someone to insult or wrong my cousin, I may feel some need to come to their defense, but not any more than any other friend of mine and certainly not as a matter of personal pride/honor. In my reading for this particular word, I get the impression that there is probably some connection to the traditional concepts revolving around things like the "divine right of kings" and whatnot where the lineage/bloodline really does matter. You get little statements like:
Sir, she said, I marvel what thou art and of what kin thou art come; boldly thou speakest, and boldly thou hast done, that have I seen...
which imply that the actions/strength of this individual are defined by their lineage/kin. Even the hidden identity of the individual in question (Beaumains in this case) can't hide that they possess greatness that could only be explained (in the medieval mind) by their heritage. I think this fact, along with the literal closeness and martial support that families provide in the text explain much of the importance of kin (beyond the usual familial love). I suppose if I thought this to be the case about myself and my kin and did not live in a culture that so values individualism, perhaps I would be somewhat more inclined to feel something stronger towards my family honor.
Camlann
The battle of Camlann (which in Le Morte D'Arthur is called Salisbury) is the final battle of the text in which we see the titular final demise of Arthur. In my reading about it for this word, I was reminded that the battle itself was prophesied by Merlin very early on in the text:
After this Merlin told unto King Arthur of the prophecy that there should be a great battle beside Salisbury, and Mordred his own son should be against him.
This was told to Arthur right after being told that he must keep the scabbard with him to avoid death (in general), but he had already given it to his sister for safe-keeping which probably spells his doom. I think that this is very early foreshadowing of the the demise of Arthur spell out pretty plainly. In fact, there seems to be an element of inevitability or ill fate that saturates this final battle. The conflict had almost been resolved and negotiations were to take place, but seemingly chance, the conflict was sparked by a single individual drawing a sword in order to strike an errant snake. The ensuing battle was grim and both sides suffered terribly; what appears to me to be a final shattering of the unity and power brought forth by the reign of Arthur. As if to signify the end of this era, scavengers are seen looting the battlefield (an un-knightly / un-chivalric sight), perhaps an illusion to the greater political scavenging that would occur in the wake of the king's death. As I have spoken of earlier, it is at this bitter end that Arthur, for one final time, ignores the advice of those around him and in great anger attempts to destroy his son who has caused all of this trouble. He succeeds in this end, closing a tragic loop which he began in his unfortunate encounter with Igraine, but in doing so, ends his own life as well. Throughout the text there are many times where it seems such dread prophecy could and should be averted, but the future seems be iron-clad. It seems unfair to me for Arthur to suffer such a tragic end; to see his world, his order broken before his eyes and to die a pitiful death.
Avalon
Avalon, called Avilion in the text, is, to my surprise, very rarely mentioned for how important it is to the Arthurian legend. It is mentioned by name once at the very end when Arthur states it is where he is to go to be healed (though he never makes it), once to establish the location of the Castle Perilous, and once to indicate the origin of Dame Lionesse and her brother Sir Gringamore. There is a vague implication by Malory at the end of the text that Arthur still lives or that people believe that anyway and the implication is likely that he dwells in Avalon (as the awaited Once and future King). This being my first foray into Arthurian, I bring with me little knowledge of Avalon. I know of the mystical connotation, a place that Arthur dwelled at some point, and something to do with the more heavenly(?) aspects (a place of rest/healing/beyond). It's clear from the text that it is a domain which the like of Morgan Le Fae and Nimue might visit (and together no less) which confirms the mystical and otherworldly connection; this basically states that it is a fae place to me. And further, the dying Arthur seems to think it is a place where he may, in fact, be healed. While I do think that the ladies who accompanied Arthur on this final voyage are sincere, there is some part of me that wonders if it was all just wishful thinking. It is cynical, but one might get the feeling that Arthur has been told that common and gentle lie: It's all going to be alright. His sister, his mystical advisor, the gentle healers around him tell him it's all going to be okay and he believes his to be possible while also perhaps knowing the truth as he tells his friend to pray for his soul if he doesn't see him again. Avalon has always seem to be a hopeful and bright kingdom to me and I think Arthur joined me in this thinking at the end.