No Rest For The Wicked.

Au-delà: un.

08/02/2011 at 14:56 (Arthuriana, hobbies, literature)

I have stated before on numerous occasions that I am sort of a writer. Of course, I write in Polish. I have actually written an entire book, called “The Spy”. I sent it to the publishers, but I haven’t heard back. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop trying.

But, besides “The Spy”, I’ve written other things. Short stories, mostly. I used to write fan fiction (mostly for Harry Potter verse and tv shows), but not anymore. Recently, I was greatly inspired by Arthurian legends. Actually, I’m sort of obsessed with all the things Arthur. I have read the real, medieval stories about Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. I have read the more recent tales, too. And watched. I usually find them a little pitiful. “It wasn’t like that!” is what my mind’s saying all the time. But in fact, the medieval stories are so vague and there are so many of them… I cannot possibly know them all. And I have to admit, I have read all Chrétien de Troyes, but the Lancelot-Grail cycle? Only fragments. And the summarized version. (I mean, really, people, it’s like nine volumes about Lancelot alone!)

Anyway, I’ve been greatly inspired by the tale. And, besides reading and watching things about it, I also took the liberty to write about it. My stories are an attempt to catch the moment, to paint the plastic, vivid scene, an image, before my readers’ eyes. I don’t know if I succeeded. The stories in Polish were not widely commented, I think because they are so short. They also represent my efforts to be better at describing things. I am the action sort of writer, there’s always something happening in my works. I also do some quite good dialogues, or so I’ve been told. But I need practice in descriptions, all sorts of them. And so, this text, and the others from my Arthurian cycle, are the result of my love for the Arthurian legends combined with my desire to be a better writer. They’re all very short, though this one is so far the shortest.

I translated this text on my own, no one has beta read it, so it’s very possible that it contains a lot of mistakes and errors. I’ll be very grateful if you could point them out to me, so I could correct them. Also, for the curiosity’s sake, you can read the original.

Here we go. Enjoy, I hope.

Au-delà: un.

The hills of Carmélide were covered with poppies. Not disturbed by any man, they graced the rich greens of grass with intense crimson. At daybreak, you could sneak out of the castle with your best friend, pull off the heavy skirt and in nothing but petticoat run through the fields and meadows far away, chasing the horizon till you loose your breath. Then, laughing, fall onto the carpet of moss and count the clouds floating across the sky, listening to the friendly buzz of the bees and the hum of the leaves in the forest nearby. You could plait the poppies and daisies into wreaths and then toss them to the river, shimmering with hundreds of sunny glitters; and follow them with your eyes until they disappear over the bend. Then come back to the castle just before the breakfast and, disconcerted, hide the blushes from the staid father’s guests.

Until, one day, you couldn’t. The little doors in the kitchen were closed for good, the draw-bridge lifted up and the gate secured with a heavy metal bar. You suddenly couldn’t go out, you had to stay in your chamber, high on the top of the tower, and you had to look out of the window as your father mounted the horse, glanced back only once and, raising his sword, led his men at a gallop between the hills, far, far away, until the horizon consumed him and the only thing within sight were corn-poppies crushed by the hoofs.

(Guinevere was the daughter of King Leodagan, who reigned over the land of Carmélide. One day one of his neighbors attacked the kingdom and Leodagan was forced to defend it; young Arthur came to help him. Carmélide is usually situated near Carhaix-Plouger in Bretagne, not far from the Forest of Paimpont, which is identified with the Forest of Brocéliande.)

*Au-delà – this French term is untranslatable, because it means three things at once: day-to-day expression meaning “further, beyond”; classic understanding of “the afterlife”; and “the other world”, the land of the Celtic elves and fairies, the part of which was the isle of Avalon.