Review: The Return of Sir Percival

The legends of King Arthur, Merlin, Guinevere, and the knights of the round table have all been written. The cast of characters was set long ago and so has their rise and their fall. The promise that King Arthur will come again when there is great need is a promise as old as the legends of Merlin and his powers until now. Camlann was not the end of Arthur or his knights or the enduring legacy of chivalry and adventure nor are the legends entombed with Arthur on the Blessed Isle or with Merlin locked away in the tree where Nimue bound him at Morgana le Fey's behest. There is more yet to be told.

We are all familiar with the story of how Mordred broke the fellowship of the Round Table and how Guinevere took her vows and remains a nun in the service of God while Lancelot roams the world in search of the Holy Grail ever out of his reach as he does eternal penance. The table was broken and all that remains are legends about the nine ladies who escorted King Arthur to rest on the Isle of Avalon and bright Excalibur returned to the Lady of the Lake. All that remains is shadow and the dream of Camelot and, according to S. Alexander O'Keefe, The Return of Sir Percival who was sent on a quest to find the Holy Grail.

In O'Keefe's version of the end of Albion, Sir Percival returns to England after ten years a man seeking the peace and comfort of home without the Grail. Sir Percival knows that the Round Table and King Arthur are no more. All is gone and he missed his chance to fight alongside King Arthur and die protecting his king. He failed his king and returns a changed man, scarred in pursuit of his quest and even more devout in his faith than when he left.

Sir Percival brings a companion, a black warrior, Capussa, the likes of which no one in Albion has ever seen. Expecting peace and quiet, Sir Percival instead finds Saxon and Norse raiders preying on the people and peace and quiet must be won by force of arms even as they cross the channel. Sir Percival's battle is not yet over. He must free the land of invaders and Queen Guinevere in exile in the Abbey Cwm Hir and restore the queen to her throne. The journey he intended to finish in quiet retirement still has long to go before he lays down his arms.

It didn't take long to put aside all I thought I knew of the Arthurian legends set in stone as I began to follow O'Keefe's vision of life after Camelot. At first I was disconcerted and unwilling to accept this new version of the gilded dream of Camelot, Arthur, and Guinevere. Disappointment quickly gave way to growing excitement as I followed Sir Percival's path. I enjoyed Capussa's bluff and ready wit and Sir Percival's economic dispatch of the Saxon marauders. Morgana, I soon learned, was not Arthur's half sister, but a Roman sorceress from Constantinople sent to plunder Albion of its silver for Roman coffers and the people to feed the slave markets of the Empire. Merlin, also of Rome, had disappeared and Morgana was not the only one intent on discover where he had gone to ground after Camlann.

One knight remained, Sir Gawain, hidden by black armor and in forced service to Morgana, her war master. How had a knight of Arthur's round table come to ally himself with the king's greatest enemy? So much was changed, and not for the worse.

O'Keefe's vision of Albion after the fall of Camelot is truly unique, not only in the retelling, but in what happens after the fall of the Once and Future King and his company. Guinevere is no longer the unfaithful wife of Arthur nor Lancelot her lover, having betrayed Arthur and forfeiting his honor. The tragic tale of Arthur, Guinevere, and Lancelot is quite different from what has been accepted as the thread of truth in the legend and rendered in new colors with a very different and promising future.

Guinevere is a queen in exile attended by two women, a wild young noblewoman not too shy to speak her mind and an aging nun. She rules her kingdom through a bishop stealing from her to enrich himself. King Arthur's wife died in childbirth and the king's marriage to Guinevere was a political alliance. Lancelot is a proud knight jealous of his fame, a bit of a taskmaster and Gawain a handsome womanizer often drunk. Only Percival seems true to the legends but only because not much was written about him. He is young, a proven general, who taught the peasants to fight in the Roman manner, and who it turns out is secretly in love with Guinevere, as was Gawain.

The battles and character of the rest of Camelot's denizens take on a wholly different aspect and are richly described in this new version and may more closely resemble the history of the time and place where the man who becomes the Arthur of legend actually lived. The Return of Sir Percival gives new life and a brighter prospect to the legend that is a delight for romantics and students of battle tactics and warfare. O'Keefe has even imagined a greater destiny for the Grail and a story that adds texture and depth. The Return of Sir Percival is well written and well imagined, peopled with nuanced characters and set squarely within the history of the struggle for Britain's identity. A solid effort that adds luster to the Arthurian legends to delight a whole new generation of followers, 5/5 stars.

That is all. Disperse.

Power in the Words

A friend posted about a gift she was given because of something she wrote. The recent tragedy of my grandson's unexpected (and so far unexplained) death earlier this week brought people together to offer their condolences and we shared our grief in a very public way. The obituary about Connor's death brought strangers to the funeral home on Friday night and they brought flowers. They didn't know my son or his family and they didn't know Connor, but the words of the obituary reminded them (as if they could ever forget) that they lost a daughter 21 years ago when she less than a year old to SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome), what was once called crib death. They wanted my son and his family to know they weren't alone and that Connor had touched their lives, however briefly.

Words have the power to hurt and to heal, as well as to inform.

The friend who posted about her unexpected windfall as a result of her random post felt bad when I mentioned that I wish I had thought about posting that I was cooking and baking up a storm and always wanted a KitchenAid mixer, the kind that has all the attachments and add-ons, like a sausage stuffer and meat grinder, among others, so someone would send one to me. I was teasing about the post, but not about wanting a KitchenAid. My comment to her, however light-hearted, made her think she was begging by writing about her thoughts and actions and feelings. Not at all. That is what we bloggers do -- communicate. Through communication wonderful -- and not so wonderful -- things happen.

In her case, someone was given 2 KitchenAid stand mixers for Christmas and she decided that instead of giving one of them to the church or a charity she would give it to my friend. That was a lovely gesture and one that made my friend happy. She hasn't been happy for a long time and has been blown and battered by the storms of fortune -- or rather, misfortune -- for a few years. She has had it rough and the idea that what I said in jest made her feel bad about the gift she received makes me feel bad. It also reminds me that words have so much power.

In media like blogging and writing stories or articles, we reach millions of people. Not everyone will get what is said and may put their own spin on things that have nothing to do with the author's intention. Even though my words about my son were not accompanied by a teary-eyed and heartbreaking video, people responded with sadness, shock, and condolences. My friend responded to my teasing with shame and guilt. The words were just words, but the emotions sparked came from different places.

How many people can read a child's obituary and not think of lost future? If someone has lost a child, especially a small child, they bring their own grief to what they read and the emotions come back as fresh as the day they were born, even 21 years later.

When someone reads a comment meant to be light-hearted and they have been beaten up and thrashed by life, they bring something entirely different to the fore. In this case, my friend, who has had it so difficult for so long, felt guilt and shame that she didn't have the means to buy what she wanted and had to accept it from someone else. Her emotions do not negate the joy of having the gift but, like a whipped dog, she wanted to cower with her tail between her legs because doesn't feel like she deserves to have the gift in the first place. There are so many people who need what she was given more than she does and she felt unworthy, hence her reaction to my teasing with shock and shame.

She wrote that she had not realized she was coming across as a beggar. She wasn't begging when she wrote about the joy she had found in cooking and baking. She wasn't begging when she mentioned wanting a tool to make her task easier. She was writing about her life and enjoying having something that lifted her out of her sadness and misery for a while. Someone saw that post and responded by sharing what she had been given too much of. No one begged and no one looked down and felt superior because she could play Lady Bountiful. That's not how things work in the world, at least not this time in this world. It was 2 people who communicated, one expressing joy and the other responding with generosity and kindness. There is no better sense of communication.

But words can be lethal. They can maim and scar and destroy.

My son David Scott used to get into fights over words. He was fighting because someone had said something mean about me. He was a child and responded the way a child does with violence, and probably quite a few tears. He was defending me. I told him there was no need to fight for me over words. The words didn't hurt me or change who I was, and I was wrong.

While the words would have hurt me when I was a child, they didn't even touch me as an adult. I had become immune to the words, to slough them off like filthy rags. I had forgotten what those same words had done to me as a child when my mother threw them in my face and my siblings chanted them at me, when other children took up the chant and threw them at me like jagged rocks. They hurt. They dug deep into my flesh and struck bone, and that is how they felt to my son. The words were thrown at me, but they struck him, and I dismissed his feelings and his sense of pride for fighting against the kids who, at least in his mind, had hurt me. He was battling hyenas like a young lion cub and winning and looking to me, his mother, for praise, not dismissal.

It didn't matter how much I loved my son and didn't want him to fight and get hurt. What mattered was that I failed to recognize the gifts he gave me -- his battle scars and sense of pride in his chivalrous act. The words that failed to hit had wounded him and I rubbed salt into his wounds by not recognizing and applauding his valor and prowess.

Parents make mistakes, and I have made my share. Friends also make mistakes when they fail to recognize their simple teasing words can become weapons without realizing it.

I am sorry my friend took my words as chastisement when I meant them in fun. I apologize to my son for not recognizing his valor and strength and his unbounded love for me. I do not, however, apologize for these words. Take them how you will, but they are meant to show that words do have power, power to hurt and to heal. I hope this time their power is in the healing.