At heart he ached for romance; but
romance passed him by. The ladies of the court ignored his existence,
while, as for those wandering damsels who came periodically to Camelot
to complain of the behaviour of dragons, giants, and the like, and to
ask permission of the king to take a knight back with them to fight
their cause (just as, nowadays, one goes out and calls a policeman), he
simply had no chance. The choice always fell on Lancelot or some other
popular favourite.
* * * * *
The tournament was followed by a feast. In those brave days almost
everything was followed by a feast. The scene was gay and animated.
Fair ladies, brave knights, churls, varlets, squires, scurvy knaves,
men-at-arms, malapert rogues--all were merry. All save Agravaine. He
sat silent and moody. To the jests of Dagonet he turned a deaf ear. And
when his neighbour, Sir Kay, arguing with Sir Percivale on current
form, appealed to him to back up his statement that Sir Gawain, though
a workman-like middle-weight, lacked the punch, he did not answer,
though the subject was one on which he held strong views. He sat on,
brooding.
As he sat there, a man-at-arms entered the hall.
'Your majesty,' he cried, 'a damsel in distress waits without.'
There was a murmur of excitement and interest.
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