Chapter 48
Forty-Eight
Dear Elinor,
I trust you are safe on the Isle of Women.
I send all my love to you, to Viviana and the rest of the sisterhood.
This news may reach you from other sources, but I am writing to confirm that Sir Gawain and I have restored the grail.
Arthur’s scribes have recorded our account and soon they will disseminate it across the realm.
What effect this might have on Rome and its allies is impossible to predict.
But I hope one day to tell you the story in person.
Grandmother, this may be the happiest I have ever been. I am not sure what happens next, but I hope that in recovering the grail we will also protect the old ways.
In the meantime, the past few days have been filled with feasts and celebrations the likes of which Camelot has never seen.
I have danced and sung and eaten a lifetime’s worth of plum cake.
I have been knighted as Lancelot of the Lake.
I am in high spirits, not simply because of the grail, but also because of my deep and abiding affection for Sir Gawain.
I look forward to our future quests together.
Yet joy and sorrow must inevitably coexist. When we returned with the grail, we learned that a gentle maiden named Elaine of Astolat had died.
She took her own life. She was a tender and nurturing woman with a knack for healing, the daughter of Sir Bernard.
When I was injured in my first joust, she tended to my wounds. I will remember her kindness.
In a few days’ time, Elaine of Corbenic will arrive to collect the grail, and the sisterhood can work with the Fisher King to determine what becomes of it. We will accompany Elaine and her entourage to ensure its safe passage. I look forward to seeing her.
I write of two Elaines. And my birth mother makes three. Perhaps this triad is just one of countless triads that form the hidden, interlacing order of the world. Perhaps it means nothing. A coincidence.
They say whoever possesses the grail will have his deepest desire fulfilled.
My fulfillment has come in the most unexpected of forms.
Lovingly yours,
Lancelot