Lord of Shalott

By Jay Mountney

Jocelyn became Lord of Shalott but was not interested in knightly pursuits. After a cursed affair with Sir Lancelot he buried himself in his remote castle but was dragged out of obscurity by love and violence. Mordred and Merlin also appear in this romance from the days of Camelot and their interest in Jocelyn would determine his future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jay Mountney
• Release date: Nov 25, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301333103

Jay Mountney

Jay is a writer who enjoys exploring themes including m/m romance, culture clash and coming of age, often through fantasy. She reads voraciously and her website/blog contains regular reviews. She lives in the north west of England in a seventeenth century cottage with erratic access to phone signals and internet.

Book preview

LORD OF SHALOTT

an m/m romance

by Jay Mountney

Text and cover art copyright by Jay Mountney 2012

All rights reserved.

For my daughter with many thanks for her help and support.

I would also like to thank Anel Viz and M.A.Naess for their beta and editing work. Their help improved the story and its telling immeasurably.

Author's note.

For those who might be interested in my sources

The text of The Lady of Shalott by Alfred Lord Tennyson can be found in various places online. It has also been set to music and the version sung by Loreena McKennitt on her CD The Visit is exquisite.

The story, as told by Tennyson but based on both Malory and an Italian source, was illustrated by a number of Pre-Raphaelite painters. Probably the best known picture is the one by John Waterhouse featuring the lady in her boat, but the one by Holman Hunt depicting the weaving room is also interesting and full of symbolism. Again, these can be found online.

Tennyson gave an explanation of the allegorical nature of the poem to Canon Ainger, saying: The new-born love for something, for some one in the wide world from which she has been so long excluded, takes her out of the region of shadows into that of realities.

I am by no means the first to find inspiration in this Victorian romance and its mediaeval forerunners, but I have chosen to use both the tale and the allegory to underpin an m/m love story. The first part follows the poem, albeit with a male protagonist. The second branches out from the 'region of shadows' and looks towards the future for the Lord of Shalott. I hope you enjoy my interpretation of the legend.

Part 1: The Tapestry

Chapter 1: The Canvas is Prepared

In which the reader learns of an upbringing and an inheritance.

My father, may his soul rest in peace (and I have bought masses for him), was very disappointed in me. From the earliest days of my childhood he was wont to complain that I might as well have been born a maid-child. When my mother praised my blue eyes, golden hair and fair complection, he grumbled and groused that handsome was as handsome did and I likely had not the strength to spear a boar or best a knight at tourney. He was right, and my mother knew it. It saddened her, as did the lack of a brother or sister for me, to share her love, which was boundless. To make a bad matter worse, I was baptised Jocelyn, a name that does for either maid or man and that caused confusion often enough, amongst those who did not know us well.

I was a fragile child, and then a delicate youth, trying hard to please my father but forever suffering from the knocks and bruises I gained at sword practice or archery or horse-riding. Also, the horses made me sneeze, which caused great amusement among the grooms and put a thundercloud on my father's countenance.

Our manor stands on an island in the river, some miles upstream from Camelot in a quiet farming area. Our farmlands are on either bank. We grow barley and rye for trade as well as sustenance, and there is a mill that owes allegiance to our family. On the isle we grow lilies to please the ladies. I used to gather the lilies for the hall, burying my nose in their pollen, emerging all gold-dusted and heavy with scent. Sometimes I rowed to the mainland to give orders to the serfs or to the miller. It was a pleasant life, when my father was away at court or at war.

When he was at home I simply tried to keep out of his way. I did not always succeed. He dragged me on hunts, always hoping that this time I would not swoon at the kill. He hired a succession of tutors, all dedicated to improving my weapon skills, and sent each packing when they failed. Worst of all, he paraded the daughters of his friends for my delectation. He said he would have a lusty grandchild before he died, to supplant his weakling son. Indeed he betrothed me to Clothilde, against both our wishes, and the merrymaking lasted three days while I sat in the boathouse, sick and sad, and she sobbed to her handmaids in the solar.

Of course, I knew what I was, and what I wanted. But the first of these was anathema to my family, and the second was as