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The Queen's Maundy: (Winchester Malory, II.XI)

1994; Scriptoriun Press; Volume: 4; Issue: 3 Linguagem: Inglês

10.1353/art.1994.0032

1934-1539

Geoffrey Arthur,

Byzantine Studies and History

The Queen's Maundy (WINCHESTER MALORY, II.Xl) GEOFFREY ARTHUR I Arthur was absent. There fell to the Queen Guinevere, Gogfran's daughter, the distribution ofMaundy. Thin was the court that year. Last Whitsun had winnowed Chivalric grain from the chaff. The husks ofthe harvest, Wastrels and weaklings remained, while the high knights rode after Sarras. News was sparse. Long we waited. Rarely a knight came home. In the courtyard before the cathedral the Queen disttibuted Maundy. Twelve knights, as custom was, stood ranged to receive it, Scotch knights, kin to Gawain, refusing, refused by, the Grail. Cold stood the Queen in the square, commanding the dole of the purses Presented by pages, weighted with age's gain At Judas's pricing: a silver coin for a year. She shivered and longed for a fire. Within the cathedral Reared of ironical stones, Arthur's bright effigy stood, Made by Merlin in latten and copper, a conqueror's image. His upraised sword (ruddy copper, the Cyprian metal) Blazed like a linkboy's torch in the light of the tapers Held by the figures oftwelve broken kings. The twelve kings knelt upon tombs. Their faces were masks ofgilt. Grimly above them he lowered; beaten metal they cowered before him. Cradelment, Clariance, Idras; Carados, Nero, and Rience; Morganore, Barant le Apres; Anguish, and Nentres of Garlot; Eustace of Cambenet, and the lord of Orkney and Lothian, Lot, whom Pellinorc slew: there was grief to the land for that slaying. Their images high on the wall knelt before Arthur's sword. Under their upturned heels stood thrones for the washing offeet Where twelve poor beggars of Camelot, uneasy, unwishful of honour, Sullenly took their seats. "He hath put down the mighty," the choir sang: "He hath filled the hungry with good things, the rich hath sent empty away." ARTHURIANA 4.3 (1994) 271 272ARTHURIANA Guinevere entered St. Stephen's. The Magnificat faded before her, The choir subsided and sat. In silence she passed down the aisle. Her rich robe glittered with gold; it drew the eyes ofthose present Toward her, away from the altar, away from the heart of the monstrance. Not Christ's white body displayed could hold the gaze of the people. Only the old Archbishop, only Dubric remembered his God. Dubric was nobly born, a prince of the church and the world, His heart was high with disdain, despite of the beggars before him, Filthy, and foul in rheir filth, foot-rotten, forgotten by courtesy. But bason and ewer stood ready. He stripped to the waist for the combat. Compelling loathing to loving, he laid his finery by. The Archbishop's back made an exhibition ofscars: Scars of the scourge, not the sword, of the body brought under subjection. Bringing his heart's pride low by the show of his mortified flesh, Accinct with a white linen cloth, the Archbishop knelt to his task. Guinevere saw the scars. The deadly flesh trembled Shrinking the sharp chastisement. She longed for Lancelot's body. (Lancelot stirred in a chamber of Carbonek. She heard him stir.) North of the Roman wall, by a Roman fort long abandoned, Arthur made camp with his men in the light of the host-white moon. The men spoke of Pilate's mother, a drab who followed the soldiers. "Born near here, so they say." "I remember a Scotswoman once. . ." "Remember your King for a moment! Such talk is ill to his liking." But Arthur's thoughts were away. They dwelt with the Queen in Camelot. Unperceived they lingered above her faithless head. The Archbishop knelt to his task. Unasked, the first beggar thrust forward A grimy misshapen foot that stank like the kings in their tombs. Water splashed cold from the ewer, chilling and cleansing together The foot and the Archbishop's hands. The stains of the road and the rood Were washed to the bason below, were wiped with the same linen cloth. Archbishop and beggar were one: there was no division between them. Ill Lancelot woke in a chamber of Carbonek. Gone was the Grail. Gone were the knights who sought it, of Logres, Gaul, Ireland and Denmark. By different routes the spiritual city withdrew them...