{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_10472/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_10472","id":"gutenberg_10472","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10472","summary":null,"tags":["Arthurian romances","Category: British Literature","Category: History - Medieval/Middle Ages","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Romances -- Translations into English"],"text":"ARTHURIAN CHRONICLES: ROMAN DE BRUT\n\nby\n\nWACE\n\n\nTRANSLATED BY EUGENE MASON\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n    \"... In the chronicle of wasted time\n    I see descriptions of the fairest wights,\n    And beauty making beautiful old rhyme,\n    In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights.\"\n\n    SHAKESPEARE, Sonnet cvi.\n\n\nI.--WACE\n\nIn the long line of Arthurian chroniclers Geoffrey of Monmouth\ndeservedly occupies the first place. The most gifted and the most\noriginal of their number, by his skilful treatment of the Arthurian\nstory in his _Historia Regum Britanniae_, he succeeded in uniting\nscattered legends attached to Arthur's name, and in definitely\nestablishing their place in chronicle history in a form that persisted\nthroughout the later British historical annals. His theme and his\nmanner of presenting it were both peculiarly adapted to win the favour\nof his public, and his work attained a popularity that was almost\nunprecedented in an age that knew no printed books. Not only was it\naccepted as an authority by British historians, but French chroniclers\nalso used it for their own purposes.\n\nAbout the year 1150, five years before the death of Geoffrey, an\nAnglo-Norman, Geoffrey Gaimar, wrote the first French metrical chronicle.\nIt consisted of two parts, the _Estorie des Bretons_ and the _Estorie des\nEngles_, of which only the latter is extant, but the former is known to\nhave been a rhymed translation of the _Historia_ of Geoffrey of Monmouth.\nGaimar's work might possibly have had a longer life if it had not been\ncast into the shade by another chronicle in verse, the _Roman de Brut_,\nby a Norman poet, Wace, which fills an important and interesting place\namong our Arthurian sources, not merely because of the author's qualities\nas a poet and his treatment of the Arthurian story, but also because of\nthe type of composition that he produced. For the metrical chronicle\noccupies an intermediate position between the prose chronicle, one of the\nfavourite forms of mediaeval monastic production throughout Europe, and\nthe metrical romance, which budded and blossomed most richly in France,\nwhere, during the last half of the twelfth century, it received its\ngreatest impulse from Crestien de Troies, the most distinguished of the\n_trouv\u00e8res_. The metrical romances were written for court circles, and\nwere used as a vehicle for recounting adventures of love and chivalry,\nand for setting forth the code of behaviour which governed the courtly\nlife of France at that period. Wace's poem, though based upon chronicle\nhistory, is addressed to a public whose taste was turning toward chivalric\nnarrative, and it foreshadows those qualities that characterised the verse\nromances, for which no more fitting themes could be found than those\nsupplied by the stories of Arthurian heroes, whose prowess teaches us that\nwe should be valiant and courteous. Wace saw the greater part of the\ntwelfth century. We cannot be certain of the exact year of his birth or\nof his death, but we know that he lived approximately from 1100 to 1175.\nPractically all our information about his life is what he himself tells\nus in his _Roman de Rou_:--\n\n\"If anybody asks who said this, who put this history into the Romance\nlanguage, I say and I will say to him that I am Wace of the isle of\nJersey, which lies in the sea, toward the west, and is a part of the\nfief of Normandy. In the isle of Jersey I was born, and to Caen I\nwas taken as a little lad; there I was put at the study of letters;\nafterward I studied long in France.[1] When I came back from France, I\ndwelt long at Caen. I busied myself with making books in Romance; many\nof them I wrote and many of them I made.\"\n\nBefore 1135 he was a _clerc lisant_ (reading clerk), and at length,\nhe says, his writings won for him from Henry II. preferment to the\nposition of canon at Bayeux. He was more author, however, than\nprebendary, and he gave his first effort and interest to his writings.\nHe composed a number of saints' lives, which are still extant, but his\ntwo most important works were his historical poems, the _Roman de Brut_\nand the _Roman de Rou_ (i.e. Rollo), a chronicle history of the Dukes of\nNormandy. This latter was Wace's last production, and beside having a\nliterary and historic importance, it has a rather pathetic interest.\nHe had begun it in 1160, in obedience to a command of Henry II, but\nfor some unknown reason Henry later transferred the honour to another\npoet. Wace laid aside his pen, left his work incomplete, and probably\nsoon after died.\n\n\"Since the king has asked him to do this work, I must leave it and I\nmust say no more. Of old the king did me many a favour; much he gave\nme, more he promised me, and if he had given all that he promised me,\nit had been better for me. Here ends the book of Master Wace; let him\ncontinue it who will.\" [2]\n\nSome twenty years earlier, in 1155, Wace had completed the _Roman de\nBrut_. He himself called it the _Geste des Bretons_ (\"History of the\nBritons\"), but it is best known under the title that appears in the\nmanuscripts, the _Roman de Brut_, given to it by scribes because of its\nconnection with Brutus, the founder of the British race. The Brut is a\nreproduction in verse of Geoffrey's _Historia_. To call it a translation\nis almost to give it a misnomer, for although Wace follows exactly\nthe order and substance of the _Historia_, he was more than a mere\ntranslator, and was too much of a poet not to impress his own\nindividuality upon his work. He makes some few additions to\nGeoffrey's Arthurian history, but his real contribution to the legend\nis the new spirit that he put into it. In the first place his vehicle\nis the swift-moving French octo-syllabic couplet, which alone gives\nan entirely different tone to the narrative from that of Geoffrey's\nhigh-sounding Latin prose. Wace, moreover, was Norman born and Norman\nbred, and he inherited the possessions of his race--a love of fact,\nthe power of clear thought, the appreciation of simplicity, the\ncommand of elegance in form. Such a spirit indeed was his as in a\nfiner type had already expressed itself in Caen in the two noble\nabbeys, under whose shadow he passed the greater part of his life,\nthe dignified and sternly simple Abbaye-aux-Hommes of William the\nConqueror and the graceful, richly ornamented Abbaye-aux-Dames of\nQueen Matilda. Sincerity and truth Wace ever aims at, but he\nembellishes his narrative with countless imaginative details. As a\nnarrator he has the tendency to garrulity, which few mediaeval poets\naltogether escaped, but he is by no means without conversational\ncharm, and in brief sentences abounding in colloquial turns, he leads\nus easily on with seldom flagging interest even through those pages\nwhere he is most inclined to be prolix. He is a systematic person with\naccurate mental habits, and is keenly alive to the limitations of his\nown knowledge. He doubtless often had to bid his common sense console\nhim with the reflections with which he begins his _Life of St.\nNicholas_:--\"Nobody can know everything, or hear everything, or see\neverything ... God distributes different gifts to different people.\nEach man should show his worth in that which God has given him.\"\n\nHe is extremely careful to give his authorities for his statements,\nand has all the shyness of an antiquarian toward facts for which he\nhas not full proof. Through Breton tales, for example, he heard of the\nfairy fountain of Barenton in the forest of Broceliande, where fays\nand many another marvel were to be seen, and he determined to visit\nit in order to find out how true these stories were. \"I went there\nto look for marvels. I saw the forest and I saw the land; I sought\nmarvels, but I found none. A fool I came back, a fool I went; a fool I\nwent, a fool I came back; foolishness I sought, a fool I hold myself.\"\n[3] The wonders related of Arthur, he tells us, have been recounted so\noften that they have become fables. \"Not all lies, nor all true, all\nfoolishness, nor all sense; so much have the storytellers told, and so\nmuch have the makers of fables fabled to embellish their stories that\nthey have made all seem fable.\" [4] He omits the prophecies of Merlin\nfrom his narrative, because he does not understand them. \"I am not\nwilling to translate his book, because I do not know how to interpret\nit. I would say nothing that was not exactly as I said.\" [5] To this\nscrupulous regard for the truth, absolutely foreign to the ingenious\nGeoffrey, Wace adds an unusual power of visualising. He sees clearly\neverything that he describes, and decorates his narrative with almost\nsuch minute details of any scene as a seventeenth-century Dutch\npainter loved to put upon his canvas. The most famous instance of\nthis power is his description of Arthur's embarkation for the\nRoman campaign. Geoffrey, after saying simply that Arthur went to\nSouthampton, where the wind was fair, passes at once to the dream that\ncame to the king on his voyage across the Channel. But Wace paints\na complete word-picture of the scene. Here you may see the crews\ngathering, there the ships preparing, yonder friends exchanging\nparting words, on this side commanders calling orders, on that,\nsailors manning the vessels, and then the fleet speeding over the\nwaves.[6] Another spirited example of this same characteristic is\nfound in the _Roman de Rou_ [7] in the stirring account of the advance of\nthe Normans under William the Conqueror at the Battle of Hastings:--\n\n\"Taillefer, who sang right well, mounted on a charger that went\nswiftly, rode before the duke singing of Charlemagne and of Roland,\nand of Oliver and the vassals who died at Roncesval. When they had\nridden until they came close to the English, 'Sire,' said Taillefer,\n'a grace! I have served you long; for all my service, you owe me a\ndebt. To-day, an it please you, repay it me. For all my guerdon I beg\nyou and fervently I pray you, grant me to deal the first blow in the\nbattle!' The duke replied, 'I grant it.' And Taillefer pricked on\nat full gallop, on before all the others he pressed. He struck an\nEnglishman and killed him; beneath the breast, clean through the body\nhe thrust his lance; he felled him down full length on the ground;\nthen he drew his sword, he struck another; then he cried, 'On, on!\nWhat do ye? Strike, strike!' Then the English surrounded him at the\nsecond blow that he dealt. Hark to the noise raised and the cries!\"\n\nApart from matters of style, Wace made other changes from Geoffrey's\nnarrative that are more important for Arthurian romance. He wrote the\n_Brut_ under the patronage of Henry II, and, if we may trust Layamon's\nstatement, he dedicated it to Queen Eleanor, who was the ardent\npropagator in England of the courtly ideals of southern France.\nAccordingly Wace, perhaps partly because of his own milieu, partly\nbecause of his royal patroness, wove into Geoffrey's narrative more\npronouncedly chivalric material. The lack of the courtly virtue of\nmesure (moderation) that is noticeable in Geoffrey's Arthur, Wace is\ncareful to conceal; he gives, furthermore, a place to the descriptions\nof love, which fill so many lines in the later romances, but which are\nabsent from Geoffrey's pages. Gawain, for instance, who is \"valiant\nand of very great moderation,\" declares that jesting and the delights\nof love are good, and that for the sake of his lady a young knight\nperforms deeds of chivalry.[8] In addition to these changes, which\nare to be attributed to his personal bent and surroundings, Wace also\nmakes it clear that he was conversant with stories of Arthur quite\nindependent of the _Historia_. Fables about Arthur he himself says that\nhe had heard, as we have seen, and from these he adds to Geoffrey's\nnarrative two that bear unmistakable signs of a Celtic origin, and\nthat were destined to become important elements in later romance; for\nhe gives us the first literary record of the famous Round Table, [9]\nand the first definite mention in literature of the \"hope of Britain.\" [10]\n\nWace is not to be regarded as one of the great contributors to our\nknowledge of Arthurian legend, but without a familiarity with his\nwork, later French romance can scarcely be appreciated, so important\nis his place as a delicate transformer of the story, the harsher\nelements of which he veiled with the courtliness familiar to him,\nwhile he diffused throughout it the indefinable spirit of French\nromance; and this he did with the naive simplicity and grace that were\nhis by birth and temperament.\n\n\n\n\nII.--LAYAMON\n\n\nTo Wace we owe still another debt, for the _Roman de Brut_ served as\nthe direct source for one of the greatest members of the Arthurian\nliterature of any period. This is the _Brut_, written in the first half\nof the thirteenth century, after the year 1204, by Layamon, an English\npriest of the country parish of Lower Arnley in Worcestershire.\n\n\"There was a priest in the land, who was named Layamon; he was son of\nLeovenath--may the Lord be gracious to him!--he dwelt at Ernley, at a\nnoble church upon Severn's bank,--good it there seemed to him--near\nRadestone, where he books read. It came to him in mind, and in his\nchief thought, that he would tell the noble deeds of the English; what\nthey were named, and whence they came, who first possessed the English\nland, after the flood that came from the Lord.... Layamon began to\njourney wide over this land, and procured the noble books which he\ntook for pattern. He took the English book that Saint Bede made;\nanother he took in Latin, that Saint Albin made, and the fair Austin,\nwho brought baptism in hither; the third book he took, and laid there\nin the midst, that a French clerk made, who was named Wace, who well\ncould write; and he gave it to the noble Eleanor, who was the high\nKing Henry's queen. Layamon laid before him these books, and turned\nover the leaves; lovingly he beheld them--may the Lord be merciful to\nhim!--pen he took with fingers, and wrote on book-skin, and the true\nwords set together, and the three books compressed into one. Now\nprayeth Layamon, for love of the Almighty God, each good man that\nshall read this book and learn this counsel, that he say together\nthese soothfast words, for his father's soul, who brought him forth,\nand for his mother's soul, who bore him to be man, and for his own\nsoul, that it be the better. Amen!\" [11]\n\nWith these words Layamon introduces us to his book and to himself; in\nfact they contain the sum total of our information about his life. But\nthey put us at once into sympathy with the earnest, sincere student,\nwho wrote, not like Geoffrey and Wace, for the favour of a high-born\npatron, but for the love of England and of good men and his few\nhardly-won and treasured books. Of these books Wace's _Brut_ received\nthe lion's share of his attention, and he made little or no use of the\nothers that lay before him.\n\nHe followed Wace's poem in outline, but he succeeded in extending its\n15,300 verses to 32,241, by giving a free rein to his fancy, which he\noften allowed to set the pace for his pen. For Layamon in his retired\nparish, performing the monotonous and far from engrossing duties of a\nreading clerk,[12] lived in reality a stirring life of the imagination.\nBack in the Saxon past of England his thoughts moved, and his mind\ndwelt on her national epic heroes. Not only in his language, which\nbelongs to the period of transition from Anglo-Saxon to Middle\nEnglish, but in his verse [13] and phraseology, he shows the\ninfluence of earlier Anglo-Saxon literature. The sound of the _Ode on\nAthelstane's Victory_ and of _Beowulf_ is in our ears as we read his\nintense, stirring lines. Wars and battles, the stern career of a Saxon\nleader, the life of the woods and fields attracted him far more than\nthe refinements of a Norman court, and by emphasising the elements\nthat were most congenial to himself he developed an entirely different\npicture from that presented by either Geoffrey or Wace. Writing with\nintense interest, he lives and moves and has his being among the\nevents that he is narrating, and is far too deeply absorbed in his\nstory to limit himself to the page that he has before him. Given a\ndramatic situation, the actors become living personalities to him, and\nhe hears impassioned words falling from their lips in terse phrases\nsuch as he never found in the lines of Wace. Uther Pendragon, in a\ndeadly battle against the Irish invaders under Gillomar and Pascent,\nslays Gillomar, then overtakes Pascent:--\n\n\"And said these words Uther the Good: 'Pascent, thou shalt abide; here\ncometh Uther riding!' He smote him upon the head, so that he fell\ndown, and the sword put in his mouth--such meat to him was strange--so\nthat the point of the sword went in the earth. Then said Uther,\n'Pascent, lie now there; now thou hast Britain all won to thy hand! So\nis now hap to thee; therein thou art dead; dwell ye shall here, thou,\nand Gillomar thy companion, and possess well Britain! For now I\ndeliver it to you in hand, so that ye may presently dwell with us\nhere; ye need not ever dread who you shall feed.'\" [14]\n\nArthur leads his men close to the hosts of Colgrim, the leader of the\nSaxon invaders:--\n\n\"Thus said Arthur, noblest of kings: 'See ye, my Britons, here beside\nus, our full foes,--Christ destroy them!--Colgrim the strong, out of\nSaxonland? His kin in this land killed our ancestors; but now is the\nday come, that the Lord hath appointed that he shall lose the life,\nand lose his friends, or else we shall be dead; we may not see him\nalive!....' Up caught Arthur his shield, before his breast, and he gan\nto rush as the howling wolf, when he cometh from the wood, behung\nwith snow, and thinketh to bite such beasts as he liketh. Arthur then\ncalled to his dear knights: 'Advance we quickly, brave thanes! all\ntogether towards them; we all shall do well, and they forth fly, as\nthe high wood, when the furious wind heaveth it with strength.' Flew\nover the [fields] thirty thousand shields, and smote on Colgrim's\nknights, so that the earth shook again. Brake the broad spears,\nshivered shields; the Saxish men fell to the ground.... Some they\ngan wander as the wild crane doth in the moor-fen, when his flight is\nimpaired, and swift hawks pursue after him, and hounds with mischief\nmeet him in the reeds; then is neither good to him nor the land nor\nthe flood; the hawks him smite, the hounds him bite, then is the royal\nfowl at his death-time.\" [15]\n\nLayamon lets his imagination display itself not merely in the dramatic\nspeeches that he puts into the mouths of his actors; he occasionally\ncomposes a long incident, as in the story of the coronation of\nConstans,[16] of the announcement to Arthur of Mordred's treachery,[17]\nand in the very striking account of Arthur's election to the throne of\nBritain and his reception of the messengers who come for him. \"Arthur\nsate full still; one while he was wan, and in hue exceeding pale; one\nwhile he was red, and was moved in heart. When it all brake forth, it\nwas good that he spake; thus said he then, forthright, Arthur, the\nnoble knight: 'Lord Christ, God's Son, be to us now in aid, that I may\nin life hold God's laws.'\" [18] But in general Layamon's expansions\nof Wace are merely slight additions or modifications, sufficient in\nnumber, however, to go far in doubling the size of the volume. His\ngreat change is that which I have already mentioned, the spirit in\nwhich the story is conceived, and this is best illustrated, perhaps,\nin the person of Arthur himself. For Arthur is no knight-errant, but\na grim, stern, ferocious Saxon warrior, loved by his subjects, yet\ndreaded by them as well as by his foes. \"Was never ere such king, so\ndoughty through all things.\" He stands in the cold glare of monarchy\nand conquest, and save in the story of his birth and of his final\nbattle he is seldom, if ever, seen through the softer light of\nromance. But Layamon is the only source for the story of which we hear\nnothing in the later romances, and which is generally attributed to a\nTeutonic origin, that elves came to Arthur's cradle and gave him good\ngifts--to be the best of knights, a rich king, long lived, abounding\nin \"virtues most good.\" Layamon, too, gives a truly Celtic version\nof Arthur's disappearance from earth. Two fairy maidens bear the wounded\nking in a boat from the battle-field over the sea to Argante, the queen\nof Avalon, who will make him whole again. \"And the Britons ever expect\nwhen Arthur shall return.\" This story, and also Layamon's very important\naccount of the establishment of the Round Table, which is vastly more\ncomplete than Wace's, bear unmistakable marks of a Celtic origin. Layamon,\nin fact, living as he did near the Welsh border, naturally shows\nfamiliarity with current Welsh tradition. His work has a high value in\nthe vexed question of the origin and growth of Arthurian romance; for\nit proves the existence of genuine Welsh tradition about Arthur, and\nmakes untenable the position of those critics who maintain that the\nArthurian legend had an independent development only on the continent.\n\nLayamon's contributions to our knowledge of the Arthurian material\nare, however, comparatively small, since he augmented his original in\nthe main by passages inspired by his own imagination.[19] His additions\nmay be called poetic rather than legendary. Partly because of its\nSaxon character his _Brut_ never attained wide popularity, and it had\nlittle effect upon the cycle; but it remains one of the most truly\ngreat literary achievements in the field of both Arthurian chronicle\nand romance.\n\nOur three most important Arthurian chroniclers, Geoffrey, Wace, and\nLayamon, were all men of marked individuality and ability; each lives\nfor us with as distinct a personality as if we had far more than our\nvery imperfect knowledge of the details of his life. Geoffrey, a\nclever combiner, a highly gifted narrator and scholar, born at a happy\nhour, gave the Arthurian legend a definite literary form, brought\npermanently together independent elements of tradition, and\ncontributed enormously to the popularity of the cycle. Wace, the\nprofessional author, the scrupulous antiquarian and na\u00efve poet,\ncarefully refined the material of Geoffrey, and dressed it in the\nFrench costume of courtly life. Layamon, the intense and imaginative\nEnglish priest, transformed it by the Saxon spirit, and divesting it\nof its courtly elegance, filled it with greater simplicity and force.\n\n\n\n\nEXCURSUS I.--ARTHUR'S MAGIC POSSESSIONS\n\n\nArthur's magic possessions form a prominent element in Welsh\ntradition, and their appearance in the early chronicles is an\nimportant testimony to the diffusion of Welsh legend. _Kilhwch and\nOlwen_  contains a list of his belongings, all of which there is\nreason to believe, from record or from logical inference, were of\notherworld origin. Each has its significant proper name, which in most\ncases conveys the idea of brilliant whiteness, a characteristic of\nCeltic fairy objects. His ship, for example, is named White Form,\nhis shield \"Night Gainsayer,\" his dagger \"White Haft.\" The _Dream of\nRhonabwy_ [20] describes his carpet (or mantle), \"White,\" which had the\nproperty of retaining no colour but its own, and of making whoever\nwas on it (or wrapped in it) invisible, and also his sword,\n\"Hard-breacher,\" graven with two serpents from whose jaws two flames\nof fire seemed to burst when it was unsheathed, \"and then so wonderful\nwas the sword that it was hard for any one to look upon it.\" This\nsword (Caletvwlch, Caliburn, Excalibur) is a Pan-Celtic marvellous\nobject, and is one of Arthur's most famous possessions. The deadly\nblows attributed by Nennius to him in the Battle of Mount Badon\nwithout doubt traditionally were dealt by Caliburn. Geoffrey of\nMonmouth recognised it as a fairy sword, and says that it was made in\nAvalon, namely, the Celtic otherworld. We may also feel confident that\nthe full panoply of armour with which Geoffrey equips Arthur (ix. 4)\nconsisted of magic objects, although Geoffrey, who in general, as an\nhistorian, rationalises the supernatural, merely describes them as\namazingly efficacious. The shield he calls by the name of Arthur's\nship in Welsh sources, Pridwen (evidently a fairy boat, limitless in\ncapacity), either from some confusion in tradition, or because, being\nenchanted, Pridwen might, of course, serve as either ship or shield.\n\nLayamon adds further information about Arthur's weapons. His burny,\nhe says (vs. 21133-34) \"was named Wygar\" (Anglo-Saxon _wigheard_),\n\"Battle-hard,\" \"which Witeze wrought,\" Witeze being a corrupted form\nfor Widia, the Anglo-Saxon name of the son of Weland, the Teutonic\nVulcan, a famous maker of magic weapons in romance, with whom his son\nmight easily become identified in legend.\n\nThis is the explanation given by Professor G.L. Kittredge of the above\nlines, as a correction of Sir Frederic Madden's translation: \"he\n[namely, the smith who made the burny] was named Wygar, the witty\nwight.\" Layamon says (v. 21147) that Arthur's helmet was called\nGoswhit, a name that is evidently a translation of some Welsh term\nmeaning \"goosewhite,\" which at once classes the helmet with Arthur's\ndazzlingly bright fairy belongings. Moreover, Layamon says (vs. 21158,\n23779 ff.) that his spear Ron (a Welsh common noun, meaning \"spear\")\nwas made by a smith called Griffin, whose name may be the result of an\nEnglish substitution of the familiar word _griffin_ for the unfamiliar\n_Gofan_, the name of the Celtic smith-god. These facts are mainly\nimportant as testimony to the Celtic element in Arthurian romance, and\nespecially to Layamon's use of current Welsh Arthurian tradition. The\nlarge variety of magical possessions assigned to Arthur is also a\nnotable indication of the great emphasis that Welsh legend laid\nupon his mythological attributes and his character as otherworld\nadventurer.\n\n[The above facts have been established and discussed by Professor\nA.C.L. Brown in his article on the Round Table (p. 199, note 1) cited\nbelow in Excursus II.; also in _Iwain_, Boston, 1903, p. 79, note\n1; _Modern Philology_, I., 5-8; _Publications of the Modern Language\nAssociation of America_, XXV., 25 ff. See also the notes on the lines\ncited from Layamon in Sir Frederic Madden's edition of the _Brut_. For\nother magic possessions of Arthur, see below, Excursus II.]\n\n\n\n\nEXCURSUS II.--THE ROUND TABLE\n\n(Wace, _Brut_, vs. 9994 ff., 10555, 13675; Layamon, vs. 22736 ff.)\n\n\nOur earliest authority for the story of the Round Table is Wace. He\nand Layamon agree in calling it a tale of the Britons, and in saying\nthat Arthur had it made to prevent rivalry as to place among his\nvassals when they sat at meat. Layamon, however, expands the few lines\nthat Wace devotes to the subject into one of his longest additions to\nhis source, by introducing the story of a savage fight for precedence\nat a court feast, which was the immediate cause for fashioning the\nRound Table, a magical object. Ancient sources prove that the Celts\nhad a grievous habit of quarrelling about precedence at banquets,\nprobably because it was their custom to bestow the largest portion of\nmeat upon the bravest warrior. It was also their practice to banquet\nseated in a circle with the most valiant chieftain of the company\nplaced in the middle, possibly owing to the circular form of their\nhuts, possibly for the sake of avoiding the disputes that so commonly\ndisturbed their feastings. The Round Table, accordingly, is to be\nregarded as a Pan-Celtic institution of early date, and as one of the\nbelongings that would naturally be attributed by popular tradition\nto any peculiarly distinguished leader. Layamon's version so closely\nparallels early Celtic stories of banquet fights, and has so barbaric\na tone, as to make it evident that he is here recounting a folk-tale\nof pure Celtic origin, which must have been connected with Arthur\nbefore his time, and probably before that of Wace; for this story was\nundoubtedly one of those \"many fables\" which Wace says the Britons\ntold about the Round Table, but which he does not incorporate into his\nnarrative.\n\n[See A.C.L. Brown, _The Round Table before Wace in Studies and Notes\nin Philology and Literature_, VII. (Boston, 1900), 183 ff.; L.F. Mott,\n_Publications of the Modern Language Association of America_, XX, 231\nff.; J.L. Weston, as above (p. xv.), pp. 883 ft.]\n\n\n\n\nEXCURSUS III.--THE HOPE OF BRITAIN\n\n(Wace, _Brut_, 13681 ff.; Layamon, 23080 ff., 28610 ff.)\n\n\nThe belief that Arthur would return to earth, which was firmly\nestablished among the Britons by the beginning of the twelfth\ncentury, does not in early records appear clothed in any definite\nnarrative form. In later sources it assumes several phases,\nthe most common of which is that recorded by Layamon that Arthur had\nbeen taken by fays from his final battle-field to Avalon, the Celtic\notherworld, whence after the healing of his mortal wound he would\nreturn to earth. Layamon's story conforms essentially to an early type\nof Celtic fairy-mistress story, according to which a valorous hero, in\nresponse to the summons of a fay who has set her love upon him, under\nthe guidance of a fairy messenger sails over seas to the otherworld,\nwhere he remains for an indefinite time in happiness, oblivious of\nearth. It is easy to see that the belief that Arthur was still living,\nthough not in this world, might gradually take shape in such a form as\nthis, and that his absence from his country might be interpreted as\nhis prolonged sojourn in the distant land of a fairy queen, who was\nproffering him, not the delights of her love, but healing for his\nwounds, in order that when he was made whole again he might return \"to\nhelp the Britons.\" Historic, mythical, and romantic tradition have\ncombined to produce the version that Layamon records. Geoffrey of\nMonmouth (xi. 2), writing in the mock role of serious historian and\nwith a tendency to rationalisation, says not a word of the wounded\nking's possible return to earth. Wace, with characteristic caution,\naffirms that he will not commit himself as to whether the Britons, who\nsay that Arthur is still in Avalon, speak the truth or not. Here, as\nin the story of the Round Table, it is Layamon who has preserved for\nus what was undoubtedly the form that the belief had already assumed\nin Celtic story, through whatever medium it may have passed before it\nreached his hands.\n\nIn the _Vita Merlini_,[21] a Latin poem attributed by some scholars to\nGeoffrey of Monmouth, a curious version of Arthur's stay in Avalon is\ngiven. The wounded king is taken after the battle of Camlan to the\nIsle of Apples (for such was understood to be the meaning of the\nname _Avalon_), which is the domain of a supernatural maiden, wise and\nbeautiful, Morgen by name, who understands the healing art, and who\npromises the king that he shall be made whole again if he abides long\nwith her. This is the first mention in literature of Morgan la F\u00e9e,\nthe most powerful fay of French romance, and regularly the traditional\nhealer of Arthur's wounds in Avalon.\n\nThe Argante of Layamon's version is doubtless the same being as\nMorgana, for whose name, which in any of its current spellings had\nthe appearance of a masculine proper name, Layamon either may have\nsubstituted a more familiar Welsh name, Argante, as I have already\nshown he might easily have done (_Studies in the Fairy Mythology of\nArthurian Romance_, Boston, 1903, pp. 26-28), or, as Professor J.L.\nBruce, with equal plausibility, has recently suggested, he may have\nused a corruption of one form of the fay's name, Morgant (_Modern\nLanguage Notes_, March, 1911, pp. 65-68).\n\n[I have discussed the various versions of Arthur's stay in Avalon in\n_Studies in Fairy Mythology_, chapter III. On Avalon, see _id._, p. 40,\nnote 2. On the early belief in Arthur's return to earth, see Geoffrey\nof Monmouth (_Everyman's Library_), Introduction, p. 10.]\n\n\n\n\nNOTES:\n\n[1] i.e., Paris, in the Ile de France. Vs. 10440 ff.\n\n[2] Vs. 16530 ff.\n\n[3] _Roman de Rou_, vs. 6415 ff.\n\n[4] _Roman de Brut_, vs. 10038 ff.\n\n[5] _Id._, vs. 7733 ff.\n\n[6] _Id._, vs. 11472 ff. Cf. for other examples: Arthur's\nconquest of Denmark, _Historia_, ix. 11; _Brut_, vs. 10123 ff.; Arthur's\nreturn to Britain from France, _Historia_, ix. 11; _Brut_, vs. 10427 ff.;\nArthur's coronation, _Historia_, ix. 12 ff.; _Brut_, vs. 10610 ff.\n\n[7] Vs. 13149 ff.\n\n[8] See _Excursus II_.\n\n[9] Vs. 11048 ff.\n\n[10] See _Excursus III_.\n\n[11] Vs. 1 ff.\n\n[12] Layamon's statement that he \"read books\" at Arnley is\ninterpreted to mean that he read the services in the church.\n\n[13] The poem is written in part in alliterative lines on the\nAnglo-Saxon system, in part in rhymed couplets of unequal length.\n\n[14] Vs. 18086 ff.\n\n[15] Vs. 20110 ff. More famous speeches still are Arthur's\ncomparison of Childric the Dane to a fox (vs. 20827 ff.) and his taunt\nover his fallen foes, Baldulf and Colgrim (vs. 31431 ff.).\n\n[16] Vs. 12972 ff.\n\n[17] Vs. 27992 ff.\n\n[18] Vs. 19887 ff.\n\n[19] discussion of this point see J.L. Weston, in _Melanges de\nphilologie romane offerts \u00e0 M. Wilmotte_, Paris, 1910, pp. 801, 802.\n\n[20] See _Mabinogion_, translated by Lady Charlotte Guest,\nLondon, 1849.\n\n[21] Ed. Michel and Wright, Paris, 1837.\n\n\n\n\nBIBLIOGRAPHY\n\n\nGENERAL WORKS OF REFERENCE FOR THE CHRONICLES\n\nR.H. FLETCHER, _The Arthurian Material in the Chronicles (Studies and\nNotes in Philology and Literature, X)_, Boston, 1906.\n\nW. LEWIS JONES, King Arthur in History and Legend, London, 1911.\n\nM.W. MACCALLUM, _Tennyson's Idylls of the King_, Glasgow, 1894.\n\nH. MAYNADIER, _The Arthur of the English Poets_, Boston and New York,\n1907.\n\nG. PARIS, _Histoire litt\u00e9raire de la France_, Paris, 1888.\n\nJ. RHYS, _Studies in the Arthurian Legend_, Oxford, 1891.\n\nW.H. SCHOFIELD, _English Literature from the Norman Conquest to Chaucer_,\nNew York and London, 1906.\n\nB. TEN BRINK, _Geschichte der Englischen Literatur_, and ed., A Brandl,\nStrassburg, 1899. Translated into English, 1st ed, I., H.M. Kennedy,\nNew York, 1888, II., i., W.C. Robinson, 1893, II., ii., L.D. Schmidt,\n1896.\n\n\nAUTHORS AND WORKS\n\nGEOFFREY GAIMAR, _L'Estorie des Engles_, ed. T.D. Hardy and T.C. Marten\n(Rolls Series), 1888-1889.\n\nGEOFFREY OF MONMOUTH, _Historia Regum Britanniae_, ed. San Marte (A.\nSchulz) Halle, 1854. Translated, J.A. Giles, _Six Old English Chronicles_,\nLondon, 1896; S. Evans, London, 1903.\n\nLAYAMON, _Brut_, ed. with translation, Sir F. Madden, 3 vols, London,\n1847. WORKS ON LAYAMON--Introduction, Madden's ed. of _Brut_. H. Morley,\nEnglish Writers, London, 1888-1890, III, 206-231. L. Stephen and S. Lee,\n_Dictionary of National Biography_, London, 1885-1904, under Layamon.\nFor a further bibliography, see Fletcher (as above), p. 148, note 1.\n\nWACE, _Roman de Brut_, ed. Le Roux de Lucy, 2 vols, Rouen, 1836-1838.\n_Roman de Rou_, ed. F. Pluquet, 2 vols, Rouen, 1827, H. Andresen, 2 vols,\nHeilbronn, 1877-1879, translated by E. Taylor (_Chronicle of the Norman\nConquest_), London, 1837. WORKS ON WACE--E. Du M\u00e9ril, _La vie et les\nouvrages de Wace_, in _Jahrbuch f\u00fcr romanische u. englische Literatur, I,\ni ff.; also in his _Etudes sur quelques points d'Arch\u00e9ologie_, Paris and\nLeipzig, 1862. Grober, _Grundriss der romanischen Philologie_, Strassburg,\n1888-1902, II, i, 635 ff. H. Morley, _English Writers_, III, 55. G. Paris,\n_Romania_, IX, 592 ff. L. Stephens and S. Lee, _Dictionary National\nBiography_, under Wace. A Ulbrich, _Romanische Forschungen_, XXVI, 181 ff.\nFor further bibliography, see Fletcher (as above), p. 128, note 1.\n\n\n\n\nWACE'S ROMAN DE BRUT\n\n\nConstantine came to Totnes, and many a stout knight with him--there\nwas not one but was worthy of the kingship. The host set forth towards\nLondon, and sent messages in every part, bidding the Britons to their\naid, for as yet they were too fearful to come from their secret\nplaces. When the Britons heard these tidings they drew, thick as rain,\nfrom the woodlands and the mountain, and came before the host in\ntroops and companies. To make short a long matter, these marched so\nfar and wrought such deeds that in the end they altogether discomfited\nthose evil men who had done such sore mischief to the land. After\nthese things they held a great council at Cirencester, commanding\nthereto all the lords and barons of the realm. In that place they\nchose Constantine as their king, with no long tarrying, none being so\nbold as to say him nay. So when they had ordained him king, they set\nthe crown on his head with marvellous joy, and owned themselves as his\nmen. Afterwards, by their counsel, Constantine took to wife a dame who\nwas come of gentle Roman blood. On this lady he begat three sons. The\neldest--whom the king named Constant--he caused to be nourished at\nWinchester, and there he made him to be vowed a monk. The second son\nwas called Aurelius, and his surname Ambrosius. Lastly was born Uther,\nand it was he whose days were longest in the land. These two varlets\nwere held in ward by Gosselyn, the archbishop.\n\nSo long as Constantine lived the realm had rest and peace; but he died\nbefore his time had come, for he reigned but twelve short years. There\nwas a certain Pict of his household, a traitor, a foul felon, who for\na great while had been about his person. I cannot tell the reason why\nhe bore the king so mortal a grudge. This Pict took the king aside\nprivily in an orchard, as though he would speak to him of some hidden\nmatter. The king had no thought to keep himself from this false felon,\nwho whilst he made seeming to speak in his master's ear, drew forth a\nknife and smote him therewith so shrewdly that he died. Then he fled\nforth from the garden. But many a time have I heard tell that it was\nVortigern who caused Constantine to be slain. Great was the sorrow the\nlords and all honest people made above their king, for the realm had\nnow no prince, save only those children of so tender an age. They laid\nhim in his tomb, but in no wise put him from remembrance. The whole\nrealm assembled together that they might make to themselves a king.\nThey doubted sorely which of the two young children they should\nchoose, for of them they knew neither good nor ill, seeing they were\nbut small and frail, and yet in their warden's charge. As to Constant,\nthe eldest son, who was of more fitting years, they dared not to pluck\nthe habit from his back, since all men deemed it shame and folly to\nhale him forth from his abbey. The council would have ordained one of\nthe two children to be king had it not been for Vortigern, who arose\nbefore them all. This Vortigern came from Wales, and was earl in his\nown land. He was a strong knight of his body, exceeding rich in goods\nand kin. Very courteous was he of speech; right prudent in counsel;\nand long since had made straight the road that he coveted to tread.\n\"What reason is here,\" said he, \"for doubtfulness? There is naught\nelse to do but to make this monk, Constant, our king. He is the\nrightful heir; his brothers are not long from the breast; neither is\nit fitting that the crown should be placed upon a stranger's head. Let\nus strip the gown boldly from his shoulders. I charge the sin upon my\nown soul. My hand alone shall draw him from the abbey, and set him\nbefore you as your king.\" But all the lords of the council kept\nsilence, for a horrible thing it seemed in their eyes that a monk\nshould wear the mantle of a king. Vortigern, purposing evil in his\nheart, took horse, and rode swiftly to Winchester. He sought Constant\nat the abbey, praying the prior of his courtesy that he might speak\nwith him in the parlour. \"Constant,\" said he, \"thy father is dead, and\nmen seek to bestow his throne upon thy brothers. Such honour is not\nseemly, for thine is the crown and seat. If thou bearest me love and\naffiance, and for thy part wilt promise to make richer all the riches\nthat are mine, on my part I will free thee from these sullen rags and\narray thee in the purple and ermine of a king. Choose now between\nthis monastery and the heritage that is thine own.\" Very desirous was\nConstant of the lordship, and little love had he for his abbey. Right\nweary was he of choir and psalter, and lightly and easily he made him\nready to be gone. He pledged oath and faith to all that Vortigern\nrequired, and after he had so done Vortigern took him with a strong\nhand from the monastery, none daring to gainsay his deed. When\nVortigern was assured of his fealty, he caused Constant to put off the\nmonk's serge, and clothe him in furs and rich raiment. He carried him\nto London, and sat him in his father's chair, though not with the\nvoice and welcome of the people. The archbishop who should have\nanointed the king with oil was dead, neither was any bishop found to\ngive him unction, or to put his hand to the business. It was Vortigern\nalone who took the crown and set it on his head. This king had no\nunction nor blessing, save from the hand of Vortigern alone.\n\nConstant reigned in his father's stead. He who had betrayed the\ncommandment of God, was not one to hold his realm in surety; and thus\nhe came to an evil end. Sorrow not thereat. The man who sells his\nmaster with a kiss may not hope to spend the wages of his sin.\nVortigern held Constant and his senarchy in the hollow of his hand.\nThe king did all according to his pleasure, and granted freely to\nhis every need. Very quickly, by reason of divers matters, Vortigern\nperceived that the king knew but little of the world, since he was\nnourished in a cloister. He remembered that the two princes were of\ntender age. He saw that the mighty lords of the realm were dead, that\nthe people were in sore trouble and unrest, and judged that the place\nand time were come. Mark now the cunning craft with which he set about\nto take his seisin of the realm. \"Sire,\" said he, \"I have learned and\nwould bring to your knowledge that the sea folk are gathered together\nfrom Norway, and from the country of the Danes. Since our knights are\nfew in number, and because of the weakness of the land, they purpose\nto descend upon the kingdom, and ravish and spoil your cities. Draw\nnow together thy men, to guard the realm and thee. Set food within the\nstrong places, and keep well thy towers. Above all, have such fear of\ntraitors that thy castles are held of none save those true men who\nwill hold them to the death. If you act not after this counsel right\nspeedily there must reign another king.\" \"I have granted,\" answered\nConstant, \"everything to thy hand, and have done all according to thy\nwill. Take now this fresh burthen upon thee, for thou art wiser than\nI. I give you all the realm to thy keeping, so that none shall ravage\nit or burn. Cities and manors; goods and treasure; they are thine as\nconstable. Thy will is my pleasure. Do swiftly that which it is seemly\nshould be done.\" Vortigern was very subtle. None knew better how\nto hide away his greed. After he had taken the strong towers, the\ntreasure, and the riches to himself, he went again before the king.\n\"Sire,\" said he, \"if it seem good to the king, my counsel would be\nthat he should send to the Picts of Scotland to seek of them horsemen\nand sergeants to have with him about his household. In that place\nwhere the battle is perilous we can call them to our aid. Through\nthese Picts and their kindred we shall hear the talk of the outland\nmen. They will parley between us and these Danes, and serve as embassy\nbetween us and our foes.\" \"Do,\" replied the king, \"at thy pleasure.\nBring of these Picts as many as you wish. Grant them as guerdon what\nyou deem befits. Do all which it is seemly should be done.\"\n\nWhen Vortigern had taken to himself the walled cities, and gathered\ntogether the treasure, he sent such messages to the Picts as he\ndesired, so that they came according to his will. Vortigern received\nthem with much honour, giving them greatly to drink, so that they\nlived in mirth and in solace, altogether drunken and content. Of his\nbounty Vortigern granted such wages, and spoke so sweetly in the ear\nof each, that there was not one amongst them who did not cry loudly\nin the hearing of any who would hearken, that Vortigern was more\ncourteous and of higher valiance than the king--yea, that he was\nworthy to sit upon the king's throne, or in a richer chair than his.\nVortigern rejoiced greatly at these words. He made much of his Picts,\nand honoured them more sweetly than ever before. On a day when they\nhad sat long at their cups, and all were well drunken, Vortigern came\namongst them in the hall. He saluted them sadly, showing the semblance\nof a woeful man. \"Right dear are you to my heart;\" said he, \"very\nwillingly have I served you, and right gladly would I serve you still,\nif but the wealth were mine. But this realm belongs altogether to the\nking. Naught can I bestow, nothing is mine to spend, save only that I\nrender him account of every doit. So little revenue is mine of this\nland, that it becomes me to seek my fortune beyond the sea. I have set\nmy whole intent to serve my king to the utmost of my might, and for\nrecompense have of him such estate that I can maintain scarce forty\nsergeants to my household. If all goes well with me we may meet again,\nfor I commend me to your goodwill. This weighs heavily upon me that\nI must leave you now. But, beggar as I am, I can do no other; only I\nentreat you this, that if you hear my business has come to a fair end,\nyou will of a surety seek my love again.\" For all his piteous speech\nVortigern was false, and had falsely spoken, but those who had well\ndrunken gave faith to his words. They held for gospel truth what this\nvile traitor had told them. They murmured together amongst themselves:\n\"What then shall become of us, since we lose so generous a lord! Let\nus rather slay this mad king, this shaveling, and raise Vortigern to\nhis seat. Worthy is he of crown and kingdom; so on him we will cast\nthe lot. Too long already have we suffered this renegade monk, whom\nnow we serve.\" Forthwith they entered in the king's chamber, and\nlaying hands upon him, slew him where he stood. They smote the head\nfrom off his shoulders, and bare it to Vortigern in his lodging,\ncrying, \"Look now, and see by what bands we bind you to this realm.\nThe king is dead, and we forbid you to go from amongst us. Take now\nthe crown, and become our king.\" Vortigern knew again the head of his\nlord. He made semblance of bitter sorrow, but rejoiced privily in his\nheart, though of his cunning he hid his gladness from the eyes of\nmen. To cover his falseness the deeper, Vortigern called the Romans\ntogether in council. He struck the heads from off those traitors,\nleaving not one to escape alive. But many a citizen was persuaded, and\nsome said openly, that these murderers would not have laid hands\nupon the king, neither looked evilly upon him, nor thought to do him\nmischief, had not Vortigern required of them such deed.\n\nWhen the death of the king was told to them who held the two brothers\nin ordinance, they were assured that he who slew the king would not\nscruple to serve the princes in the self-same fashion. For fear of\nVortigern they took Aurelius and Uther, and fled beyond the sea to\nLittle Britain, commending themselves to the pity of Budes, the king.\nSince they were of his kin King Budes welcomed them right courteously.\nHe received them to his table with great honour, and bestowed upon\nthem many rich gifts. Now having taken to himself the strong places,\nthe castles, and the cities of the kingdom, Vortigern proclaimed him\nto be king with marvellous pride. His joy was the less because the\nrealm was harassed by the Picts, who would avenge their kindred, whom\nhe had slain with the sword. Moreover he was sorely troubled, since\nit was noised abroad that the two princes were gathering a company\ntogether, purposing in a short space to return to their own land. The\nrumour ran that the barons were resolved to join this great host, and\nto own the brothers as their lords, so that in a while Vortigern would\nbe utterly destroyed. Many there were who told of such things.\n\nWhilst men talked thus, there came to a haven in Kent three galleys,\nbearing a strange people to the land. These folk were fair of face and\ncomely of person. They owned as lords Hengist and Horsa, two brethren\nof mighty stature, and of outland speech. The tidings came to\nVortigern at Canterbury, where he abode that day, that a foreign folk\nfrom a far country had drawn to the realm in ships. The king sent\nmessages of peace and goodwill to these strangers, praying that be\nthey whom they might, they would come quickly and speak with him in\nhis palace, and return swiftly to their own place. When they received\nhis commandment they sought him with the more surety. They came into\nthe king's presence and did reverence, with a proud bearing. Vortigern\nlooked closely upon the brethren. Shapely were they of body, bright of\nvisage, taller and more comely than any youth he knew. \"From what land\nhave you come,\" inquired the king, \"and on what errand? Tell me now\nthe place of your birth.\" The elder and the mightier of the brethren,\ncalled Hengist, made answer in the name of all his fellows. \"We be of\na country called Saxony,\" said he, \"there were we born and there we\nabode. If thou wilt learn the chance we seek upon the sea, I will\nanswer truly, if so it be according to thy will.\" \"Say on,\" said the\nking, \"and hide nothing. No harm shall come to thee of this.\" \"Fair\nking,\" answered Hengist, \"gentle sire, I know not if I can make it\nplain. Our race is of a fertile stock, more quick and abounding than\nany other you may know, or whereof you have heard speak. Our folk are\nmarvellously fruitful, and the tale of the children is beyond measure.\nWomen and men are more in number than the sand, for the greater sorrow\nof those amongst us who are here. When our people are so many that the\nland may not sustain nor suffice them, then the princes who rule the\nrealm assemble before them all the young men of the age of fifteen\nyears and upwards, for such is our use and custom. From out of these\nthey choose the most valiant and the most strong, and, casting lots,\nsend them forth from the country, so that they may travel into divers\nlands, seeking fiefs and houses of their own. Go out they must, since\nthe earth cannot contain them; for the children came more thickly than\nthe beasts which pasture in the fields. Because of the lot that fell\nupon us we have bidden farewell to our homes, and putting our trust in\nMercury, the god has led us to your realm.\" When the king heard the\nname of Mercury as the god of their governance, be inquired what\nmanner of men these were, and of the god in whom they believed. \"We\nhave,\" answered Hengist, \"gods a many, to whom it is our bounden duty\nto raise altars. These gods have to name Phoebus and Saturn, Jupiter\nand Mercury. Many another god we worship, according to the wont of our\ncountry, and as our fathers have told us. But above all gods we keep\nin chiefest honour Mercury, who in our own tongue is called Woden. Our\nfathers held this god in such reverence that they devoted the fourth\nday of the week to his service. Because of their hope in Woden they\ncalled his feast Wednesday, and yet it bears his name. By the side of\nthis god of whom I have spoken, we set our goddess Freya, who is\nheld in worship of us all. To show forth their love, our fathers\nconsecrated the sixth day to her service, and on the high authority of\nthe past we call Friday by Freya's name.\" \"Ill is your faith,\" replied\nthe king, \"and in an evil god you put your trust. This thing is\ngrievous to me, but nevertheless I welcome your coming right gladly.\nYou are valiant men, as I deem, accustomed to harness, and so you will\nbe my servants, very willingly will I make you of my household, and of\nwealth you shall find no lack. Certain thieves from Scotland torment\nme grievously at this time, burning my land and preying on my cities.\nSo it be God's pleasure, your coming may turn to my rich profit, for\nby His aid and yours, I look to destroy these same Picts and Scots.\nFor from that land come and return these thieves who so harass and\ndamage my realm. You shall find me no grudging master, and when I am\navenged upon them, you will have no complaint to find with bounty or\nwages or gifts.\" In this manner the Saxons came from out their ships,\nand the king's court was strengthened by a mighty company. Now in no\nlong time afterwards the Picts entered the king's realm, with a great\nhost, burning, wasting, and pilling at their will. When they would\nhave passed the Humber, the king, who was told thereof, hastened to\nmeet them with his lords, the Britons, and these Saxons. The hosts\ncame together, and the battle was grim and lasting, for many were\ndiscomfited to death that day. The Picts, doubting nothing but\nthat they would gain the victory as they had done before, carried\nthemselves hardily, and struck fiercely with the sword. They fought\nthus stoutly, and endured so painfully, since they were shamed to do\nless than was their wont. But their evil custom was broken, for the\nSaxons gained possession of the field. Since by these Saxons, and\ntheir aid, Vortigern was delivered of this peril, he gave them their\nwages, and added thereto of his bounty. On Hengist he bestowed fair\nmanors, and goods, and great riches, so that love lasted between them\nfor a long space.\n\nWhen Hengist saw that the king might in no wise pass him by, he sought\nto turn this to his own profit, as was his undoubted right. He knew\nwell how to flatter the king to his own advantage by specious words.\nOn a day when the king's heart was merry, Hengist opened out what was\nin his mind. \"Thou hast given me many honours,\" said he, \"and bestowed\non me plenteously of thy wealth. I am not ungrateful, but am thy\nservant and will remain thy servant, striving to serve thee better in\nthe future even than I have striven in the past. But the longer I am\nabout the king's person, and the more closely I know his court, the\nmore clearly I see and hear and am assured that thou hast not the love\nof one only baron of thy realm. Each bears thee hate, each nurses his\nown grudge. I cannot speak, since nothing I know, of those children\nwho have stolen away the love of thine own house. They are the lawful\nlords of thy barons, and these are but loyal to the sons of their\nking. Within a little they will come from over sea, and spoil thee of\nthis realm. Not one of thy men but purposes to do thee a mischief.\nEvil they wish thee, and evil they hope will be thine end. Horribly\nart thou abhorred; horribly art thou menaced; for evil is on thy\ntrack, and evil purposes shortly to pull thee down. I have considered\nhow best I may help thee in this peril. If it pleases the king to\nbring my wife and children and all that is mine from my own land,\nthe sweeter hostages will be his, and the more faithful will be my\nservice. So diligently will I keep my trust that no foe, however bold,\nshall spoil thee of one foot of thy heritage Moreover, sire, it is now\na great while since I became thy servant, and many bear malice against\nme by reason of thy love. Because of their wrath I dare not tarry at\nnight outside my house, nor go beyond the walls. For this cause, sire,\nso it may please thee, it would become thy honour to grant me some\ntown or tower or strong place, where I may lie in peace of nights,\nwhen I am weaned in the king's quarrels. When thy enemies mark the\ngenerosity of the king, they will cease to annoy so large a lord.\" \"As\nto the folk of thine house,\" made answer the king, \"send thou at\nthy pleasure, and receive them with all worship. The cost of their\nsustenance shall be mine. For the rest thou art not of the faith.\nPagan thou art, and no Christian man Men, therefore, will deem that I\ndo very wrongfully should I grant thee the other gift you require.\"\n\"Sire,\" replied Hengist, \"I would of thy bounty a certain manor. I\npray thee of thy courtesy to add thereto so much land--I seek no\nmore--as I may cover with a hide, and as may be compassed therewith.\nIt will be but the hide of a bull, but for the gift's sake I shall go\nthe more surely.\" Vortigern granted the boon, and Hengist thanked his\nmaster. He made ready his messenger, and sent for his kindred from\noversea. He took the hide of a bull, and cutting it as small as he\nmight, made one thong of the whole skin. With this thong he compassed\na great spoil of land, and gathering good masons together, built\nthereon a fair castle. In his own tongue he called this place\nVancaster, which being interpreted means Thong Castle, forasmuch as\nthe place was compassed by a thong. Now it is hight by many Lancaster,\nand of these there are few who remember why it was first called after\nthis name.\n\nWhen Vancaster was well builded there drew near eighteen war galleys,\nbearing to land Hengist's kindred, together with knights and footmen.\nWith these came Hengist's daughter, Rowena by name, a maiden yet\nunwed, and most marvellously fair. After all things were made ready\nHengist prayed the king to lodge with him awhile, that he might\ndelight himself with meat and drink, and view the new folk of his\nhousehold, and the castle that he had builded. And the king was\npleased to hearken unto his prayer. The king rode to Vancaster with\na mean company, since he would not have it noised about the land. He\nmarked the castle and its towers, which were both strong and fair, and\nmuch he praised the work. The knights who were freshly come from sea\nhe took to his service, and gave of his bounty. At the feast that day\nmen ate and drank so greatly that for the most part they were drunken.\nThen came forth from her chamber Rowena, Hengist's daughter, sweetly\narrayed and right dainty to see, bearing in her hand a brimming cup\nof wine. She kneeled before Vortigern very simply, and saluted him\ncourteously after the fashion of her land, saying, \"Washael, lord\nking.\" The king, who knew nothing of her language, sought the meaning\nof the maiden's words. This was made plain to him by Redic, the\nBreton, a fair scholar, who--as it is related--was the first to become\napt in the Saxon tongue. He answered swiftly, \"The maiden saluted thee\ncourteously, calling thee lord. It is the wont of her people, sire,\nthat when friend drinks with friend, he who proffers the cup cries,\n'Washael,' and that he who receives answers in turn, 'Drinkhael'. Then\ndrinks he the half of this loving cup, and for joy and for friendship\nof him who set it in his hand, kisses the giver with all fair\nfellowship.\" When he had learned this thing, the king said\n\"Drinkhael,\" and smiled upon the damsel. Rowena tasted of the cup, and\nplaced it in the king's hand, and in taking it from the maiden the\nking kissed her sweetly. By the Saxon were we first taught in\nthis land to greet, saying, \"Washael,\" and afterwards to answer,\n\"Drinkhael,\" to drain the cup in full measure, or to share it with\none other, to kiss together when the cup was passed. The custom was\ncommenced as I have shown you, and we observe this ritual yet, as well\nI know, in the rich feasts of our country.\n\nNow the maiden was gracious of body, and passing fair of face, dainty\nand tall, and plump of her person. She stood before the king in a web\nof fine raiment, and ravished his eyes beyond measure. She filled the\nking's cup willingly, and was altogether according to his wish. So\nmerry was the king, so well had he drunken, that he desired the\ndamsel in his heart. The devil, who has led many a man astray, snared\nVortigern with such sorcery, that he became mad with love to possess\nHengist's daughter. He was so fast in the devil's net that he saw\nneither shame nor sin in this love. He denied not his hope, though the\nmaid was of pagans born. Vortigern prayed Hengist that he would grant\nhim the maid in marriage, and Hengist accorded her with goodwill. But\nfirst he took counsel with his brother and his friends. These praised\nthe marriage, but counselled Hengist to give the damsel only on such\ncovenant that the king should deliver him Kent as her dowry. The king\ncoveted the maiden so greatly, he doted so dearly, that he made her\nhis queen. She was a pagan woman, and became his wife according to\nthe rites of the paynim. No priest blessed that marriage, there was\nneither Mass nor prayer. So hot was the king's love that he espoused\nher the same evening, and bestowed on Hengist Kent as her dowry.\n\nHengist went into Kent, and seized all the country into his hand.\nHe drove forth Garagon, the governor, who had heard no word of the\nbusiness. Vortigern showed more credence and love to the heathen\nthan to christened men, so that these gave him again his malice, and\nabandoned his counsel. His own sons held him in hatred, forsaking his\nfellowship because of the pagans. For this Vortigern had married\na wife, who long was dead and at peace. On this first wife he had\nbegotten three sons, these only. The first was named Vortimer, the\nsecond Passent, and the third Vortiger. Hated was this king by all the\nbarons of his realm, and of all his neighbours. His very kindred held\nhim in abhorrence. He came to an evil end, for he died in his shame,\nand the pagans he befriended with him. \"Sire,\" said Hengist to the\nking, \"men hold thee in hatred by reason of me, and because of thy\nlove they bear me malice also. I am thy father, and thou my son, since\nthou wert pleased to ask my daughter for thy wife. It is my privilege\nto counsel my king, and he should hearken to my counsel, and aid me to\nhis power. If thou wilt make sure thy throne, and grieve those who use\nthee despitefully, send now for Octa my son, and for my cousin Ebissa.\nThere are not two more cunning captains than these, nor two champions\nto excel them in battle. Give these captains of thy land towards\nScotland, for from thence comes all the mischief. They will deal with\nthy foes in such fashion that never more shall they take of thy\nrealm, but for the rest of thy days we shall live in peace beyond the\nHumber.\" Then answered the king, \"Do what you will, and send messages\nfor such men as it is good for us to have.\" At the king's word Hengist\nsent messages to his son and nephew, who hastened to his help with a\nfleet of three hundred galleys. There was not a knight of their land,\nwho would serve for guerdon, but they carried him across the water.\nAfter these captains were come, in their turn, from day to day, came\nmany another, this one with four vessels, this other with five, or\nsix, or seven, or eight, or nine, or ten. So thickly did the heathen\nwend, and so closely did they mingle with the Christians, that you\nmight scarcely know who was a christened man and who was not. The\nBritons were sorely troubled at this matter, and prayed the king\nnot to put such affiance in the outland folk, for they wrought much\nmischief. They complained that already were too many pagans in the\nland, working great shame and villainy to the people. \"Separate\nthyself from amongst them,\" they said, \"at whatever cost, and send\nall, or as many as may be, from the realm.\" Vortigern made answer that\nhe might not do this thing. He had entreated the Saxons to the land,\nand they served him as true men. So when the barons hearkened to his\nwords they went their way to Vortimer.\n\nThe Britons assembled themselves together, and taking the road to\nLondon, chose Vortimer--the eldest of the king's three sons--to be\ntheir lord. The king, who was assotted on his wife, clave to her\nkindred, and would not forsake the heathen. Vortimer defied the\nSaxons, and drove them from the walled cities, chasing and tormenting\nthem very grievously. He was a skilful captain, and the strife was\nright sore between Vortimer and the Britons, against his father and\nthe Saxons. Four times the hosts met together, and four times Vortimer\nvanquished his foe. The first battle was fought upon the banks of the\nDarent. The second time the hosts strove together was upon the ford\nnear Aylesford. In this place Vortiger, the king's son, and Horsa the\nSaxon, contended so fiercely in combat, body to body, that each did\nthe other to death, according to his desire. The other battle was\narrayed on the sea shore in Kent. Passing grim was this third battle,\nfor the ships fought together upon the water. The Saxons withdrew\nbefore the Britons, so that from beyond the Humber even to Kent they\nwere deceived in their hope. The heathen fled in their galleys to an\nislet called Thanet. The Britons assailed them in this fastness, and\nso long as it was day, harassed them with arrows and quarrels, with\nships and with barges. They rejoiced loudly, for the pagans were\ncaught in a corner, and those not slain by the sword were fain to die\nof hunger. For this reason, the Britons raised a mighty tumult and\nshouting, when they trapped their enemy in the Isle of Thanet. When\nthe Saxons were assured that worse would befall them, save they\ndeparted from the realm, they prayed Vortigern to go in embassy to\nVortimer his son, persuading him to give them safe conduct from the\nland, and not to do them further mischief. Vortigern, who was in their\ncompany and would in no wise depart from their fellowship, went to his\nson to procure such truce as the Saxons required. Whilst he was about\nthis business the Saxons entered in their galleys, and with sail and\noar put out to sea as swiftly as they were able. Such was their haste\nto escape that they left their wives and sons with the Britons,\nreturning to their own country in exceeding fear. After the Saxons\nhad all forsaken the realm, and the Britons were assumed of peace,\nVortimer gave again to every man that of which the heathen had spoiled\nhim. To build anew the churches, and to declare the law of God, which\nhad fallen into disuse amongst the people because of Hengist and his\nheathendom, St. Germanus came to Britain, sent by St. Romanus, the\nApostle of Rome. With him came St. Louis of Troyes. These two fair\nbishops, Germanus of Auxerre and Louis of Troyes, crossed the sea\nto prepare the way of the Lord. By them were the tables of the law\nredelivered, and men converted again to the faith. They brought many a\nman to salvation; many a miracle, many a virtue, did God show in their\npersons, and many a country was the sweeter for their lives. When the\nlaw of God was restored, and Britain made again a Christian land,\nhearken now what foul work was done by treason and by envy. Rowena,\nthat evil stepmother, caused Vortimer, her husband's son, to be\npoisoned, by reason of the hatred she bore him, since he chased\nHengist from the realm. After Vortimer was certified that he must die,\nand that no physician might cure him of his hurt, he called together\nall his barons, and delivered unto them the treasure which he\nhad greatly gathered. Listen well to that he prayed his friends.\n\"Knights,\" said he, \"take into your service warriors not a few, and\ngrudge not the sergeant his wages. Hold one to another, and maintain\nthe land against these Saxons. That my work may not be wasted, and\navenged upon those who live, do this thing for their terror. Take my\nbody, and bury it upon the shore. Raise above me such a tomb, so large\nand lasting, that it may be seen from far by all who voyage on the\nsea. To that coast where my body is buried, living or dead, they shall\nnot dare to come.\" Having spoken in this fashion the gentle king died,\nfinishing his course. His body was borne to London, and in London he\nwas lain to his rest. The barons raised no barrow upon the shore, as\nwith his dying speech he had bidden them.\n\nAfter Vortimer's death, the Britons made Vortigern their king, even\nas he had been in days before. At the entreaties of his wife he sent\nmessages to his father-in-law, Hengist. Him he prayed to return to the\nkingdom, but with a small company, so that the Britons should not give\nheed to the matter; for since Vortimer his son was dead, there was\nno need of a host. Hengist took ship gladly, but with him he carried\nthree hundred thousand men in mail. For dread of the Britons, he made\nhim ready as never he had done before. When the king learned that\nHengist drew to land with so mighty a host, he was altogether fearful,\nand knew no word to say. The Britons assembled together in great\nwrath, promising amongst themselves that they would join them in\nbattle, and throw the heathen from the realm. Hengist was cunning and\nfelon of heart. He sent false messages to the king, praying for a\ntruce and love-day to be granted, that they might speak together as\nfriend with friend. Peace above all he desired; peace he ensued; peace\nwas his love, and he sought her with tears. Nothing was further from\nhis wish than war, and he would rather be banished from the realm than\nremain by force of arms. It was for the Britons to elect those whom\nthey willed to stay, and for the others they would return whence they\ncame. The Britons granted the love-day, and the two peoples took\npledges, one of the other; but who can trust the oath of a liar? A\ntime was appointed when this council should be holden. The king sent\nmessages to Hengist that he must come with few companions; and Hengist\nplighted troth right willingly. Moreover, it was commanded that none\nshould bear weapons at the council, for fear that men should pass\nfrom words to blows. The two parties met together near the Abbey of\nAmbresbury, on the great Salisbury plain. The day was the kalends of\nMay. Hengist had taught his comrades, and warned them privily, that\nthey should come each with a sharp, two-edged knife hidden in his\nhose. He bade them to sit in this Parliament, and hearken to the talk;\nbut when he cried, \"Nimad covre seax\" (which being interpreted means\n\"Pluck forth your knives,\" and would not be understanded of the\nBritons), they were to snatch out their daggers and make each a dead\nman of his neighbour. Now when the council was met, and men were\nmingled together, the naked Briton near by the false heathen, Hengist\ncried loudly, \"Nimad covre seax.\" The Saxons, at his word, drew forth\nthe knives from their hose, and slew that man sitting at their side.\nHengist was seated very close the king. He held the king fast by his\nmantle, so that this murder passed him by. But those who gripped the\nknives thrust the keen blades through cloak and mantle, breast and\nbowels, till there lay upon back or belly in that place nigh upon four\nhundred and sixty men of the richest and most valiant lords of the\nkingdom. Yet some won out and escaped with their lives, though they\nhad naught to defend their bodies save the stones.\n\nEldof, Earl of Gloucester, got a great club in his right hand, which\nhe found lying at his feet, though little he recked who had carried it\nto the council. He defended his body stoutly with this mighty staff,\nstriking and smiting down, till he had slain fully sixty and ten of\nthe pagan. A mighty champion was he, and of rich worth. He clave a\npath through the press, without taking a wound; for all the knives\nwhich were flung at his body he escaped with not a hurt to the flesh.\nHe won at the end to his horse, which was right strong and speedy,\nand riding swiftly to Gloucester, shut himself fast in his city and\nvictualled tower. As to Vortigern, the Saxons would have slain him\nwith his barons, but Hengist stood between them, crying, \"Harm not the\nking, for nothing but good have I received at his hand, and much has\nhe toiled for my profit. How then shall I suffer my daughter's lord to\ndie such a death! Rather let us hold him to ransom, and take freely\nof his cities and walled places, in return for his life.\" They,\ntherefore, slew not the king but binding him fast with fetters of\niron, kept him close in bonds for so long a space that he swore to\nrender them all that they would. In quittance of his ransom, and to\ncome forth from prison, Vortigern granted Sussex, Essex, and Middlesex\nto Hengist as his fief, besides that earldom of Kent which he had held\nbefore. To remember this foul treason, knives were long hight seax\namongst the English, but names alter as the world moves on, and men\nrecall no more the meaning of the past. In the beginning the word was\nused to rebuke the treason that was done. When the story of the seax\nwas forgotten, men spoke again of their knives, and gave no further\nthought to the shame of their forefathers.\n\nWhen Vortigern was a naked man he fled beyond the Severn, and passing\ndeeply into Wales, dwelt there, taking counsel with his friends. He\ncaused his wise clerks and magicians to be summoned, inquiring of them\nin what fashion he should maintain his right, and what they would\ncounsel him to do, were he assailed of a mightier than himself. This\nhe asked because he feared greatly the two brothers of Constant, who\nwere yet living, and knew not how to keep him from their hate. These\nsorcerers bade him to build so mighty a tower, that never at any time\nmight it be taken by force, nor beaten down by any engine devised by\nthe wit of man. When this strong castle was furnished and made ready,\nhe should shut himself within, and abide secure from the malice of his\nfoes. This pleased the king, who searched throughout the land to make\nchoice of a fitting place to raise so strong a keep. Such a place he\nmet, altogether according to his mind, on mount Erir. [1] He brought\nmasons together, the best that might be found, and set them to the\nwork as quickly as they were able. The masons began to build, getting\nstones ready and making them fast with mortar, but all the work that\nthe builders raised by day, adown it fell to the ground by night.\nThey laboured therefore with the more diligence, but the higher they\nbuilded the tower the greater was its fall, to the very foundations\nthey had digged. So it chanced for many days, till not one stone\nremained upon another. When the king knew this marvel, and perceived\nthat his travail came in nowise to an end, he took counsel of his\nwizards. \"By my faith,\" said he, \"I wonder sorely what may be amiss\nwith my tower, since the earth will not endure it. Search and inquire\nthe reason of this thing; and how these foundations shall be made\nsure.\"\n\n[Footnote 1: Snowdon]\n\nThen the magicians by their lots and divinations--though, for that\nmatter, it may well be that they lied--devised that the king should\nseek a man born of no earthly father, him he must slay, and taking of\nhis blood, slake and temper therewith the mortar of the work, so that\nthe foundations should be made fast, and the castle might endure.\nThereat the king sent messengers throughout all the land to seek such\na man, and commanded that immediately he were found he should be\ncarried to the court. These messengers went two by two upon their\nerrand. They passed to and fro about the realm, and entered into\ndivers countries, inquiring of all people, at the king's bidding,\nwhere he might be hid. But for all their labour and diligence they\nlearned nothing. Now it came to pass that two of the king's embassy\nwent their road until they came together to the town called\nCaermerdin.[1] A great company of youths and children was gathered\nbefore the gate at the entrance to the city, and the messengers stayed\nawhile to mark their play. Amongst those who disported themselves at\nthis gate were two varlets, named Merlin and Dinabus. Presently the\ntwo youths began to chide and jangle, and were passing wroth the one\nwith the other. One of the twain spake ill of his fellow, reproaching\nhim because of his birth. \"Hold thy peace, Merlin\", said Dinabus, \"it\nbecomes you not to strive with me, whose race is so much better than\nthine own. Be heedful, for I know of such an evil matter that it were\nwell not to tempt me beyond my power. Speak then no more against my\nlineage. For my part I am come from earls and kings, but if you set\nout to tell over your kindred, you could not name even your father's\nname. You know it not, nor shall learn it ever; for how may a son tell\nhis father's name when a father he has never had?\" Now the king's\nmessengers, who were in quest of such a sireless man, when they heard\nthis bitter jibe of the varlet, asked of those around concerning the\nyouth who had never seen his sire. The neighbours answered that the\nlad's father was known of none, yea, that the very mother who had\nborne him in her womb, knew nothing of the husbandman who had sown the\nseed. But if his father was hidden, all the world knew of the mother\nwho nourished him. Daughter was she to that King of Dimetia, now gone\nfrom Wales. Nun she was of her state, a gentlewoman of right holy\nlife, and lodged in a convent within the walls of their city.\n\n[Footnote 1: Carmarthen.]\n\nWhen the messengers heard these tidings, they went swiftly to the\nwarden of the city, adjuring him, by the king's will, to lay hands\nupon Merlin--that sireless man--and carry him straightway to the king,\ntogether with the lady, his mother. The warden durst not deny their\ncommandment. He delivered Merlin and his mother to the embassy, who\nled them before the king. The king welcomed the twain with much\nhonour, and spoke kindly unto them. \"Lady,\" said he, \"answer me truly.\nBy none, save by thee, can I know who was the father of Merlin, thy\nson.\" The nun bowed her head. After she had pondered for a little, she\nmade reply, \"So God have me in His keeping, as I know nothing and saw\nnothing of him who begat this varlet upon me. Never have I heard,\nnever may I tell, if he were verily man by whom I had my child. But\nthis I know for truth, and to its truth will I pledge my oath. At that\ntime when I was a maid growing tall, I cannot tell whether it was a\nghostly man, but something came often to my chamber, and kissed me\nvery close. By night and by day this presence sought me, ever alone,\nbut always in such fashion as not to be perceived. As a man he spake\nsoft words in my ear; as a man he dealt with me. But though many a\ntime he had speech with me, ever he kept himself close. He came so\noften about me, so long were his kisses on my mouth, that he had his\nway, and I conceived, but whether he were man in no wise have I known.\nI had of him this varlet; but more I know not, and more I will not\nsay.\"\n\nNow the king had a certain clerk, named Malgantius, whom he held for\nvery wise. He sent for this learned clerk, and told over to him the\nwhole matter, that he might be assured whether things could chance as\nthis woman had said. The clerk made answer, \"In books I have found it\nwritten that a certain order of spirit ranges between the moon and our\nearth. If you seek to learn of the nature of these spirits, they are\nof the nature partly of man, and partly of a loftier being. These\ndemons are called incubi. Their home and region is the air, but this\nwarm world is their resort. It is not in their power to deal man great\nevil, and they can do little more mischief than to trick and to annoy.\nHowever they know well how to clothe themselves in human shape, for\ntheir nature lends itself marvellously to the deceit. Many a maid has\nbeen their sport, and in this guise has been deceived. It may well be\nthat Merlin was begotten by such a being, and perchance is of a demon\nborn.\" \"King.\" cried Merlin suddenly, \"you brought me here; tell me\nnow what you would, and wherefore you have sent after me.\" \"Merlin,\"\nanswered the king, \"know it you shall. Hearken diligently, so shall\nyou learn of all. I commenced to build a high tower, and got mortar\ntogether, and masons to set one stone upon another, but all the work\nthat the builders raised by day, adown it fell to the ground, and was\nswallowed up of night. I know not if you have heard tell thereof.\nThe day has not so many hours to labour, as the night has hours to\ndestroy; and greatly has my substance been wasted in this toil. My\ncouncillors tell me that my tower may never stand tall, unless its\nstones and lime are slaked with thy blood--the blood of a fatherless\nman.\" \"Lord God,\" cried Merlin, \"believe not that my blood will bind\nyour tower together. I hold them for liars who told over such a gab.\nBring these prophets before me who prophesy so glibly of my blood, and\nliars as they are, liars I will prove them to be.\" The king sent for\nhis sorcerers, and set them before Merlin. After Merlin had regarded\nthem curiously, one by one, \"Masters,\" said he, \"and mighty magicians,\ntell us now I pray you the reason why the king's work faileth and may\nnot stand. If you may not show me why the tower is swallowed up of\nthe earth, how can your divinations declare to you that my blood will\ncause it to endure! Make plain to us now what troubles the foundation,\nso that the walls tumble so often to the ground, and when you have\ncertified this thing, show to us clearly how the mischief may be\ncured. If you are not willing to declare who labours secretly to make\nthe house to fall, how shall it be credited that my blood will bind\nthe stones fast? Point out this troubler to the king, and then cry the\nremedy.\" But all the wizards kept silence, and answered Merlin never a\nword. When Merlin saw them abashed before him, he spake to the king,\nand said, \"Sire, give ear to me. Beneath the foundations of your tower\nthere lies a pool, both great and deep, and by reason of this water\nyour building faileth to the ground. Right easily may this be assured.\nBid your men to delve. You will then see why the tower was swallowed\nup, and the truth will be proven.\" The king bade therefore that the\nearth should be digged, and the pool was revealed as Merlin had\nestablished. \"Masters and great magicians,\" cried Merlin, \"hearken\nonce more. You who sought to mix your mortar with my blood, say what\nis hidden in this pond.\" But all the enchanters kept silence and were\ndumb; yea, for good or ill they made answer never a word. Merlin\nturned him again to the king. He beckoned with his hand to the king's\nservants, saying, \"Dig now trenches, to draw off the water from this\npool. At the bottom shall be found two hollow stones, and two dragons\nsleeping in the stones. One of these dragons is white, and his fellow,\ncrimson as blood.\" Thereat the king marvelled greatly, and the\ntrenches were digged as Merlin had commanded. When the water was\ncarried about the fields, and stood low in the pool, two dragons got\nthem on their feet, and envisaged each the other very proudly. Passing\neager was their contention, and they strove together right grievously.\nWell might be seen the foam within their mouths, and the flames that\nissued from their jaws. The king seated himself upon the bank of the\npool. He prayed Merlin to show him the interpretation of these dragons\nwhich met together so furiously. Merlin told the king what these\nmatters betokened, as you have oft-times heard. These dragons\nprophesied of kings to come, who would yet hold the realm in their\ncharge. I say no more, for I fear to translate Merlin's Prophecies,\nwhen I cannot be sure of the interpretation thereof. It is good to\nkeep my lips from speech, since the issue of events may make my gloss\na lie.\n\nThe king praised Merlin greatly, and esteemed him for a true prophet.\nHe inquired of the youth in what hour he should die, and by what means\nhe would come to his end. For this king was marvellously fearful of\ndeath. \"Beware,\" said Merlin, \"beware of the sons of Constantine. By\nthem you shall taste of death. Already have they left Armorica with\nhigh hearts, and even now are upon the sea. Be certified of this, that\ntheir fleet of fourteen galleys comes to land on the morrow. Much evil\nhast thou done to them; much evil will they do to thee, and avenge\nthem of their wrongs. In an ill day you betrayed their brother to his\ndeath: in an ill day you set the crown on your head; in an ill day, to\nyour own most bitter loss, you entreated this Saxon heathenry to your\nhelp. You are as a man against whom arrows are loosed, both this side\nand that; and I know not whether your shield should be arrayed to left\nor to right. On the one road the Saxon host draws near, eager to do\nyou a mischief. Along this other comes the rightful heirs, to pluck\nthe realm from your hand, the crown from your head, and to exact the\nprice of their brother's blood. If you yet may flee, escape quickly;\nfor the brethren approach, and that speedily. Of these brethren\nAurelius shall first be king, but shall also die the first, by poison.\nUther Pendragon, his brother, will sit within his chair. He will hold\nthe realm in peace; but he, too, will fall sick before his time, and\ndie, by reason of the brewage of his friends. Then Arthur of Cornwall,\nhis son, like to a boar grim in battle, will utterly devour these\nfalse traitors, and destroy thy kinsfolk from the land. A right\nvaliant knight, and a courteous, shall he be, and all his enemies\nshall he set beneath his feet.\" When Merlin had come to an end, he\ndeparted from Vortigern, and went his way. On the morrow, with no\nlonger tarrying, the navy of the brethren arrived at Totnes, and\ntherein a great host of knights in their harness. The Britons\nassembled themselves together, and joined them to the host. They came\nforth from the lurking places whence they had fled, at that time\nHengist harried them by mount and by dale, after he had slain the\nlords by felony, and destroyed their castles. At a great council the\nBritons did homage to Aurelius as their king. These tidings came to\nVortigern in Wales, and he prepared to set his house in order. He\nfled to a strong castle, called Generth,[1] and there made him ready,\ntaking with him the most valiant of his men. This tower was on the\nbanks of a fair running water, called by the folk of that country the\nWye. It stood high upon Mount Droac, in the land of Hergin, as testify\nthe people of these parts. Vortigern furnished his fortress with a\nplenteous store of arms and engines, of food and sergeants. To keep\nhimself the surer from his foes, he garnished the tower with all that\nwit might devise. The lords of the country, having joined themselves\nto the brethren, sought so diligently for King Vortigern, that in the\nend they arrayed them before the castle where he lay. They cast stones\nfrom their engines, and were ever about the gates, paining themselves\ngrievously to take it, for they hated him beyond measure. Much cause\nhad the brethren to nurse so bitter a grudge against Vortigern,\nsince by guile and treason he had slain their brother Constant, and\nConstantine, their father, before him, as all men held to be the\ntruth. Eldof, Earl of Gloucester, had done homage to Aurelius, and was\nwith him in the host. Much he knew of this land of Wales. \"Eldof,\"\nsaid Aurelius, \"hast thou forgotten my father who cherished thee, and\ngave his faith to thee, and dost thou remember no more my brother who\nheld thee so dear! These both honoured thee right willingly, with love\nand with reverence in their day. They were foully slain by the device\nof this tyrant, this cozener with oaths, this paymaster with a knife.\nWe who are yet alive must bestir ourselves that we perish not by the\nsame means. Let us think upon the dead, and take bitter vengeance on\nVortigern for these wrongs.\"\n\n[Footnote 1: In Hereford.]\n\nAurelius and Eldof laced them in their mail. They made the wild fire\nready and caused men to cast timber in the moat, till the deep fosse\nwas filled. When this was done they flung wild fire from their engines\nupon the castle. The fire laid hold upon the castle, it spread to the\ntower, and to all the houses that stood about. The castle flared like\na torch; the flames leaped in the sky; the houses tumbled to the\nground. In that place the king was burned with fire, and all his\nhousehold who fled to Generth with him. Neither dame nor damsel got\nher living from that pyre; and on the same day perished the king's\nwife, who was so marvellously fair.\n\nWhen the new king had brought the realm into subjection to himself,\nhe devised to seek the pagans, that he might deliver the country from\ntheir hand. Right fearful was Hengist to hear these tidings, and at\nonce set forth for Scotland. He abandoned all his fiefs, and fled\nstraightway beyond the Humber. He purposed to crave such aid and\nsuccour from the Scots as would help him in his need, and made haste\nto get him to Scotland with all the speed he might. The king pursued\nhim swiftly with his host, making forced marches day by day. On the\nroad his power was increased by a great company of Britons; till with\nhim was a multitude which no man could number, being innumerable as\nthe sand of the sea. The king looked upon his realm, and saw it gnawed\nto the bone. None drave the plough, nor cast seed in the furrow. The\ncastles and the walled cities were breached and ruined. He marked the\nvillages blackened by fire, and the houses of God stripped bare as a\npeasant's hovel. The heathen pilled and wasted, but gathered neither\ncorn into barns nor cattle within the byre. He testified that this\nshould not endure, so he returned in safety from the battle.\n\nWhen Hengist knew that the king followed closely after, and that fight\nhe must, he strove to put heart and hardihood into the breasts of\nhis fellows. \"Comrades,\" said he, \"be not dismayed by reason of this\nrabble. We know well enough what these Britons are, since they never\nstand before us. If but a handful go against them, not one will stay\nto fight. Many a time, with but a mean company, have I vanquished and\ndestroyed them. If they be in number as the sand, the more honour is\nyours. A multitude such as this counts nothing. A host like theirs,\nled by a weak and foolish captain, what is it worth? These are a\ntrembling folk, without a chief, and of them we should have little\nfear. The shepherd of these sheep is a child, who is yet too young to\nbear a spear, or carry harness on his back. For our part we are heroes\nand champions, proven in many a stour, fighting for our very lives,\nsince for us there will be no other ransom. Now be confident and bold.\nLet our bodies serve us for castles and for wall. Be brave and strong,\nI say, for otherwise we are but dead men.\" When Hengist ceased\nheartening his comrades, the knights arrayed them for the battle. They\nmoved against the Britons as speedily as their horses might bear\nthem, for they hoped to find them naked and unready, and to take them\nunawares. The Britons so misdoubted their adversary that they watched\nin their armour, both day and night. As soon as the king knew that the\nheathen advanced to give battle, he ordered his host in a plain that\nseemed good for his purpose. He supported the spearmen with three\nthousand horsemen, clothed in mail, his own trusty vassals, who had\ncome with him from Armorica. The Welsh he made into two companies. The\none part he set upon the hills, so that the Paynim might not climb\nthere if they would. The other part he hid within the wood, to stay\nthem if they sought shelter in the forest. For the rest he put every\nman into the plain, that it should be the more strongly held\nand defended. Now when he had arrayed the battle, and given his\ncommandment to the captains, the king placed himself amidst the chosen\nmen of his own household, those whom he deemed the most loyal to his\nperson. He spoke apart with his friends concerning the battle. Earl\nEldof was near the king's side that day, together with many another\nbaron. \"God,\" said Eldof, \"what joy will be mine that hour when\nHengist and I meet face to face, with none between us. I cannot forget\nthe kalends of May, and that murder at Ambresbury, when he slew all\nthe flower of our chivalry. Right narrowly escaped I from his net\"\n\nWhilst Eldof spake these reproachful words, making complaint of\nHengist, the Saxons drew near the field, and sought to take it. With\nno long tarrying the battle was joined. What time the two hosts looked\non each other they hastened together. There you might see the vassals\nstriving, hand to hand. They fought body to body, those assailing,\nthese defending. Mighty blows with the sword were given and received\namong them. Many a champion lay stark upon the ground, and the living\npassed over the bodies of the dead. Shields were hewn asunder; spears\nsnapped like reeds; the wounded were trampled beneath men's feet, and\nmany a warrior died that day. The Christians called on Christ, and\nthe heathen answered, clamouring on their gods of clay. Like men the\npagans bore them, but the Christians like heroes. The companies of\nthe heathen flinched, giving ground on the field. The Britons\npressed about them, redoubling their blows, so that the Saxons were\ndiscomfited, and turning their backs, strove no more.\n\nWhen Hengist saw his champions turn their backs, like children, to\nthe stroke, he fled to the town called Caerconan,[1] where he was\npersuaded of shelter. The king followed fast after him, crying to the\nhunters, \"On, on.\" Hengist heard the noise of the pursuit, and had no\ncare to be trapped in his castle. Better to fight in the open at the\nrisk of his body, than to starve behind walls, with none to bring\nsuccour. Hengist checked the rout, and rallying the host, set it again\nin order of battle. The combat was passing sharp and grievous, for the\npagans advanced once more in rank and by companies. Each heartened\nhis fellow, so that great damage and loss were sustained by the\nChristians. The host fell in disarray, and began to give back before\nthe onset of the foe. All would have been lost were it not for those\nthree thousand horsemen, who rode upon the Saxon in one mighty troop,\nbringing succour and help to the footmen when they were overborne. The\npagans fought starkly and grimly. Well they knew not one would escape\nwith his life, if they did not keep them in this peril. In the press,\nEldof the Earl lighted on Hengist. Hatred gave him eyes, and he knew\nhim again because of the malice he owed him. He deemed that the time\nand the means were come to satisfy his lust. Eldof ran in upon his\nfoe, striking him mightily with his sword. Hengist was a stout\nchampion, or he had fallen at the stroke. The two closed together,\nwith naked brands and lifted shields, smiting and guarding. Men forgot\nto fight, and stared upon them, watching the great blows fall and the\ngleaming swords.\n\nWhilst the heroes strove, Gorlois, Earl of Cornwall, came hastening\nlike a paladin to the battle. Eldof saw him come, and being assured of\nthe end, arrayed himself against his adversary yet more proudly. He\nsprang upon Hengist, and seizing him by the nasal of his helmet,\ndragged him, with fallen head, amongst the Britons. \"Knights,\" he\ncried, \"thanks be to God Who has given me my desire. He is vanquished\nand taken who has caused such trouble to the land.\"\n\n[Footnote 1: Conisburg in Yorkshire.]\n\nEldof showed the captive to his company, who demanded that he should\nbe slain with the sword. \"A short shrift for the mad dog,\" they\nclamoured, \"who knows neither mercy nor pity. This is the source of\nthe war. This is the shedder of blood. Smite the head from his body,\nand the victory is in your hands.\" Eldof made answer that Hengist\nshould have the law, good law and just. He bound him fast in fetters,\nand delivered him to King Aurelius. The king chained him, hands and\nfeet, and set him in a strong prison to await judgment.\n\nNow Octa, Hengist's son, and Ebissa, his cousin, who were in the\nfield, hardly escaped from the battle, and fleeing, entered into York.\nThey strengthened the city, and made all ready, till men might come to\ntheir aid. As for the others they hid in divers places, in the woods\nand valleys, in caves and in the hills. But the power of the paynim\nwas broken, for many were dead, and of the living most were taken, and\nin bonds, or held as thralls. The king made merry over his victory,\nand gave the glory to God. He abode three full days at Caerconan to\nheal the wounded of their hurt, and to give a little leisure to the\nweary. At that place he called a council of his captains, to know what\nit were good to do with the traitor Hengist; whether he should be\nheld in prison or slain outright. Eldad got him to his feet. A right\nlearned clerk was he, a bishop of his orders, and brother by blood to\nthat Earl Eldof, of whom you have heard. \"My counsel to the king,\"\nsaid the bishop, \"is to do to the traitor Hengist--our earthly\nadversary--that which holy Samuel did in old days to King Agag, when\nhe was made captive. Agag was a prince, passing proud, the right\nglorious king of the people of Amalek. He set a quarrel upon the Jews,\nthat he might work them a mischief, since he sought to do them evil.\nHe seized their lands; he burned their goods with fire, and very often\nhe slew them for his pleasure. Then on a day this King Agag was taken\nat a battle, the more to his sorrow. He was led before Saul, whom\nthese Jews so greatly desired for their king. Whilst Saul was\nconsidering what it were well should be done with Agag, who was\ndelivered into his hand, Samuel stood upon his feet. This Samuel was a\nholy prophet of Israel; a saint of God of the utmost sanctity; never\nhas there lived his like amongst the sons of men. This holy Samuel\nseized on Agag, the proud king. He hewed him in many pieces, dividing\nhim limb from limb, and his members he sent throughout the realm.\nHearken and learn what Samuel said whilst he was hewing Agag small.\n'Agag, many a man hast thou tormented for thy pleasure; many a fair\nyouth hast thou spoiled and slain. Thou hast drawn out many a soul\nfrom its body, and made many a mother troubled for her son. Many a\nbabe hast thou rendered fatherless; but, O Agag, things evil and good\ncome to the like end. Now your mother presently will I make barren,\nand from thy body shall the soul of thee be wrung.' Mete therefore to\nyour captive, O king, the measure which Samuel counted out to his.\"\nEldof, Earl of Gloucester, was moved by the example furnished by the\nbishop. He rose in the council, and laying hands on Hengist led him\nwithout the city. There Eldof struck the head from Hengist with his\nown sword. The king caused the head to be set again on the shoulders,\nand gave Hengist's body seemly burial, according to the rite and\nfashion of those who observe the law of the paynim.\n\nThe king made no long stay at Caerconan, but followed eagerly after\nhis enemies. He came to York with a great host, and sat himself down\nbefore the city. Octa, the son of Hengist, was within, and some of his\nkindred with him. When Octa was persuaded that none might win to his\naid, he considered within himself whether he should render him to the\nking's mercy. If he took his fate in his hand, and humbly besought\npity of the king, so mercy were given him all would be well, but if\nhis prayer was scorned, then he would defend himself to the death.\nOcta did as he devised, and as his kinsfolk approved. He came forth\nfrom the gate of the city with a company of all his barons. Octa\nwore a chain of iron upon his wrists, and walking at the head of his\ncompanions, came first to the king. \"Sire,\" said he, \"I beseech you\nfor mercy and pity. The gods in whom we put our trust have failed us\nat need. Your gods are mightier than they. They have wrought wonders,\nand set strength upon you, since we are stricken to the dust. I am\nvanquished, and own myself thy servant. Behold the chain of thy\nbondman! Do with me now according to thy will, to me, and these my\nmen. Life and limb, yea, all that we have, are at thy pleasure. But\nif it seem good to the king to keep us about his person, we will\ntoil early and late in his service. We will serve him loyally in his\nquarrels, and become his liege men.\"\n\nThe king was a devout man, very piteous of heart. He looked around\nhim to learn what his barons thought of this matter and what would be\ntheir counsel. Eldad, the fair bishop, spake first as a wise elder.\n\"Good it is, and was, and ever shall be, to show mercy on him who\nrequires mercy to be shown. He who forgives not another his trespass,\nhow may he hope that God will pardon him his sin? These cry loudly\nupon thee for mercy, mercy they implore, and mercy they must have.\nBritain is a great realm, long and wide, and in many a place is\ninhabited of none, save the beast. Grant them enough thereof that they\nmay dig and plant, and live of the increase. But take first of them\nsuch hostages, that they will serve thee loyally, and loyally content\nthem in their lot. We learn from Holy Writ that the children of Gibeon\nsought life and league from the Jew when the Israelites held them in\ntheir power. Peace they prayed, peace they received; and life and\ncovenant were given in answer to their cry. A Christian man should not\nbe harder than the Jew proved himself to be in his hour. Mercy they\ncrave, mercy they should have; so let not death deceive them in their\nhope.\"\n\nThe king granted land to the Saxons, according to the counsel of Eldad\nThe lot was appointed them in Scotland, and they set out speedily\nto the place where they must dwell. But first they gave to the king\nhostages of the children of their proudest blood and race. After the\nking was fifteen days in the city, he sent messages commanding his\npeople to attend him in council. Baron and clerk, abbot and bishop, he\nsummoned to his court. At this council the rights of the heir and the\nprivileges of the orders were re-affirmed. He bade and assured that\nthe houses of religion, destroyed by the Romans, should be rebuilt. He\ndismissed his soldiers to their homes, making viscounts and provosts\nto keep his fiefs in peace, and to ensure his revenues and rent. He\nsought masons and carpenters and built anew the churches. Such chapels\nin his realm as were hurt or damaged in the wars, the king restored to\ntheir former estate, for the fairer service and honour of God. After\nthe council was done the king set forth towards London, where his\npresence was greatly desired of the citizens. He found the city but\nthe shadow of its former splendour, for the streets were emptied of\npeople, and houses and churches were alike fallen or decayed. Right\ngrievously the king lamented the damage done to his fair city. He\nfounded anew the churches, and bade clerks and burgesses to attend the\nservice of God, as was of wont and right. From thence the king went to\nAmbresbury, that he might kneel beside the graves of those who were\nfoully slain at Hengist's love-day, near the abbey. He called together\na great company of masons, carpenters, and cunning artificers; for it\nwas in his mind to raise to their worship a monument of stone that\nwould endure to the world's end.\n\nThereat spake to the king a certain wise man, Tremonius, Archbishop of\nCaerleon, praying him to send for Merlin, and build according to his\nbidding, since there was none so skilled in counsel or labour, more\ntruthful of word or apter in divination. The king desired greatly to\nbehold Merlin, and to judge by hearing of his worth. At that time\nMerlin abode near the Well of Labenes. This fountain springs in a\nhidden place, very deep in Wales, but I know not where, since I have\nnever been. Merlin came straightway to the king, even as he was\nbidden. The king welcomed him with marvellous joy, honouring him right\ngladly. He cherished him richly, and was ever about him with prayers\nand entreaties that he would show him somewhat of things that were yet\nto come, for these he was on itch to hear. \"Sire,\" replied Merlin,\n\"this I may not do. I dare not open my lips to speak of such awful\nmatters, which are too high for me, save only when needs speak I must.\nShould my tongue be unloosed by greed or lightness, should I be puffed\nup by vanity, then my familiar spirit--that being by whom I know\nthat which I know--would withdraw his inspiration from my breath. My\nknowledge would depart from me, and the words I speak would be no\nweightier than the idle words on every gossip's lips. Let the future\ntake care of itself. Consider rather the concerns of to-day. If thou\nart desirous to make a fair work and a lasting, of which men will brag\ntill the end of time, cause to be brought hither the carol that a\ngiant wrought in Ireland. This giant laboured greatly in the building\nof a mighty circle of stones. He shaped his carol, setting the stones\none upon another. The stones are so many, and of such a kind; they are\nso huge and so weighty; that the strength of man--as men are in these\ntimes--might not endure to lift the least of his pebbles\" The king\nlaughed loudly. \"Merlin,\" said he, \"since these stones are of such\nheaviness that it passes the strength of the strong to move them, who\nshall carry them to my masons? Have we not in this realm stones mighty\nenough, and to spare?\" \"King,\" answered Merlin, \"knowest thou not that\nwit is more than strength! Muscle is good, but craft is better. Skill\ndevises means when strength fails. Cunning and engines bring many\nmatters to a good end, that strength would not venture even to begin.\nEngines can move these stones, and by the use of engines we may make\nthem our own. King, these stones were carried from Africa: there they\nwere first shapen. The giant who ravished them to Ireland, set up his\ncarol to his own content. Very serviceable were these stones, and\nright profitable to the sick. It was the custom of the surgeons of\nthat land to wash these stones with fair water. This water they would\nmake hot in baths, and set therein those who had suffered hurt, or\nwere grieved by any infirmity. They washed in this water, and were\nhealed of their sickness. However sore their wound, however grievous\ntheir trouble, other medicine needed they none.\" When the king and his\nBritons heard of the virtue residing in the stones, they all desired\nthem very greatly. Not one but would gladly have ventured on the quest\nfor these stones, of which Merlin told such marvels. They devised\ntherefore to pass the sea with fifteen thousand men to make war upon\nthe Irish, and to ease them of the stones. Uther, at his own desire,\nwas chosen as their captain. Merlin also went with them to furnish\nengines for their toil. So Uther and his company crossed to Ireland on\nsuch quest. When the King of Ireland, that men called Guillomer,\nheard tell that strangers were arrayed in his land, he assembled his\nhousehold and the Irish, and menaced them proudly, seeking to chase\nthem from the realm. After they had learned the reason of this\nquarrel, and that for stones the Britons were come, they mocked them\nloudly, making them their mirth and their song. For mad it seemed in\nthe eyes of these Irish that men should pain themselves so grievously\nby land and sea to gain a treasure of naked stones. \"Never a stone,\"\nsaid these, \"shall they have; not one shall they carry with them to\ntheir homes.\" Very lightly you may scorn your enemy in your heart, but\nat your peril you seek to do him mischief with your hands. The Irish\nmocked and menaced the stranger, and sought him until they found. The\ncombat was joined directly the hosts met together, but the Irish\nwere men of peace, unclad in mail, and not accustomed to battle. The\nBritons were their jest, but they were also their victors. The King of\nIreland fled from the battle discomfited. He went from town to town,\nwith no long tarrying in any place, so that the Britons might not make\nhim their captive.\n\nAfter the Britons had laid aside their armour, and taken rest from the\nbattle, they were brought by Merlin, their companion, into a mountain\nwhere the carol was builded. This high place was called Hilomar,[1] by\nthe folk whom they had vanquished, and the carol was upon the summit\nof the mount. The Britons stared upon the stones.\n\n[Footnote 1: Kildare.]\n\nThey went about them, saying each to his fellow that none had seen so\nmighty a building. They marvelled how these stones were set one upon\nanother, and how they should be got across the sea. \"Comrades,\" said\nMerlin, \"you are strong champions. Strive now if of your strength you\nmay move these stones, and carry them from their seat.\" The young men\ntherefore encompassed the stones before, behind, and on every side,\nbut heave and tug as mightily as they could, the stones for all their\ntravail would not budge one single inch. \"Bestir yourselves,\" cried\nMerlin, \"on, friends, on. But if by strength you can do no more, then\nyou shall see that skill and knowledge are of richer worth than thews\nand fleshly force.\" Having spoken these words Merlin kept silence, and\nentered within the carol. He walked warily around the stones. His lips\nmoved without stay, as those of a man about his orisons, though I\ncannot tell whether or no he prayed. At length Merlin beckoned to the\nBritons. \"Enter boldly,\" cried he; \"there is nought to harm. Now you\nmay lift these pebbles from their seat, and bear and charge them on\nyour ships.\" So at his word and bidding they wrought as Merlin showed\nthem. They took the stones and carrying them to the ships, bestowed\nthem thereon. Afterwards the mariners hoisted their sails, and set out\nfor Britain. When they were safely come to their own land, they bore\nthe stones to Ambresbury, and placed them on the mountain near by\nthe burying ground. The king rode to Ambresbury to Keep the Feast of\nPentecost. Bishops, abbots, and barons, he had bidden them all to\nobserve the Feast. A great company of folk, both rich and poor,\ngathered themselves together, and at this fair festival the king set\nthe crown upon his head. Three days they observed the rite, and made\nmerry. On the fourth--because of his exceeding reverence--he gave\npastoral crosses to two prelates. Holy Dubricius became Bishop of\nCaerleon, and York he bestowed upon holy Sampson. Both these fair\nprelates were great churchmen, and priests of devout and spotless\nlife. At the same time Merlin ranged the stones in due order, building\nthem side by side. This circle of stones was called by the Britons in\ntheir own tongue The Giant's Carol, but in English it bears the name\nof Stonehenge.\n\nWhen the rich feast was come to its appointed end, the court departed,\neach man unto his own place. Now Passent, that was a son of Vortigern,\nhad fled from Wales and Britain, for fear of Aurelius and his brother\nUther. He sought refuge in Germany, and there purchased to himself\nships, and men who would serve him for guerdon; but of these he had no\ngreat company. This Passent arrived in the north country and ravaged\nit, burning the towns and spoiling the land. He dared make no long\nstay, for the king hastened to the north to give him battle, and this\nhe might not endure. Passent took again to his ships, and fearing to\nreturn whence he came, fared so far with sail and oar that in the end\nhe cast anchor off the coast of Ireland. Passent sought speech of the\nking of that realm. He told over his birth and state, and showed him\nhis bitter need. Passent prayed the king so urgently; the twain took\nsuch deep counsel together; that it was devised between them to pass\nthe sea, and offer battle to the Britons. This covenant was made of\nPassent that he might avenge his father's death, and dispute his\nheritage with Aurelius; but of the King of Ireland to avenge him upon\nthe Britons, who had vanquished him in battle, robbed his folk, and\ntaken to themselves the carol with a strong hand. Thus they plighted\nfaith to satisfy each the other for these wrongs. Guillomer and\nPassent made ready as many soldiers as they might. They ordained their\nships, and with a fair wind crossed the sea, and came safely to Wales.\nThe host entered in Menevia, that city so praised of the Welsh, and\nnow called of men, Saint David. It befell that King Aurelius lay sick\nat Winchester. His infirmity was sore upon him, for the trouble was\nlong and grievous, and the surgeons knew not whether he would mend or\ndie. When Aurelius learned that Passent and the King of Ireland were\ncome together in Wales to make sorrow in the land, he sent for Uther\nhis brother. He grieved beyond measure that he could not get him from\nhis bed. He charged Uther to hasten into Wales, and drive them from\nthe realm. Uther sent messages to the barons, and summoned the knights\nto the war. He set out from Winchester; but partly by reason of the\nlong journey, and partly to increase the number of his power, he\ntarried for a great while upon the road. Very long it was before he\narrived in Wales. Whilst he dallied in this fashion a certain pagan\nnamed Appas, a man born in Saxony, craved speech of Passent. This\nAppas was meetly schooled, and apt in parts. He spoke to many people\nin their own tongues; he was wise in all that concerned medicine and\nsurgery; but he was felon and kept bad faith. \"Passent,\" said Appas\nprivily, \"thou hast hated this King Aurelius for long. What should\nbe mine if I were to slay him?\" \"Ease and riches I will give thee,\"\nanswered Passent. \"Never a day but I will stand thy friend, so only\nthy word be fulfilled, and the king taste death at thy hand\" \"May your\nword,\" said Appas, \"be true as mine\" So the covenant was ordained\nbetween them that Passent should count out one thousand livres, what\ntime Appas had done to death the king Appas was very cunning, and\nright greedy and covetous of wealth. He put upon him a habit of\nreligion; he shaved his crown, and caused his hair to be polled close\nto his head. Like a monk he was shaven, like a monk he seemed; in gown\nand hood he went vested as a monk. In this guise and semblance Appas\ntook his way to the royal court. Being a liar he gave out that he was\na good physician, and thus won to the king's bed. Him he promised to\nmake whole very speedily, if he would trust himself to his hand. He\ncounted the pulse, and sought for the trouble \"Well I know,\" said he,\n\"the cause of this evil. I have such a medicine as will soon give\nyou ease.\" Who could misdoubt so sweet a physician? The gentle king\ndesired greatly to be healed of his hurt, as would any of you in\na like case. Having no thought of treason, he put himself in this\ntraitor's care. Appas made ready a potion, laced with venom, and gave\nthe king to drink. He then wrapped the king warmly in a rich coverlet,\nand bade him lie in peace and sleep. After the king was heated, and\nthe poison had lain hold upon his body, ah, God, the anguish, there\nwas nothing for him but death. When Aurelius knew that he must die, he\ntook oath of his household, that so truly as they loved him they would\ncarry his body to Stonehenge, and bury him within the stones that\nhe had builded. Thus died the king and was buried; but the traitor,\nAppas, escaped and fled with his life.\n\nUther entered in Wales with his host, and found the folk of Ireland\nabiding yet at Menevia. At that time appeared a star, which was seen\nof many. This star was hight Comet, and according to the clerks it\nsignified death and the passing of kings. This star shone marvellously\nclear, and cast a beam that was brighter than the sun. At the end\nof this beam was a dragon's head, and from the dragon's mighty jaws\nissued two rays. One of these rays stretched over France, and went\nfrom France even to the Mount of St. Bernard. The other ray went\ntowards Ireland, and divided into seven beams. Each of these seven\nbeams shone bright and clear, alike on water and on land. By reason of\nthis star which was seen of all, the peoples were sorely moved.\nUther marvelled greatly what it might mean, and marvellously was he\ntroubled. He prayed Merlin that he would read him the sign, and the\ninterpretation thereof. Merlin answered not a word. Sorrow had him by\nthe heart, and he wept bitterly. When speech returned to his mouth he\nlamented with many words and sighed often. \"Ah, God,\" said he, \"sorrow\nand trouble and grief have fallen on Britain this day. The realm has\nlost its great captain. The king is dead--that stout champion who has\ndelivered the land from such evil and shame, and plucked his spoil\nfrom the pagan.\"\n\nWhen Uther was certified that his brother and good lord had finished\nhis course, he was right heavy, and much was he dismayed. But Merlin\ncomforted him as he might. \"Uther,\" said he, \"be not altogether cast\ndown, since from Death there is no return. Bring to an end this\nbusiness of the war. Give battle to thine enemies, for to-morrow shall\nsee Passent and the King of Ireland vanquished. Fight boldly on the\nmorrow; so shalt thou conquer, and be crowned King of Britain. Hearken\nto the interpretation of the sign. The dragon at the end of the beam\nbetokens thee thyself, who art a stout and hardy knight. One of the\ntwo rays signifies a son born of thy body, who shall become a puissant\nprince, conquering France, and beyond the borders of France. The other\nray which parted from its fellow, betokens a daughter who shall be\nQueen of Scotland. Many a fair heir shall she give to her lord, and\nmighty champions shall they prove both on land and sea.\" Uther lent\nhis ear to the counsel of Merlin. He caused his folk to rest them the\nnight, and in the morning arm them for the battle. He thought to take\nthe city by assault, but when the Irish saw him approach their walls,\nthey put on their harness, and setting them in companies, issued forth\nto fight without the gates. The Irish fought valiantly, but right soon\nwere discomfited, for on that day the Britons slew Passent, and the\nKing of Ireland, his friend. Those who escaped from the field fled\ntowards the sea, but Uther following swiftly after, harried them to\nthe death. Such as reached the water climbed wildly upon their ships,\nand with sail and oar set out to sea, that Uther should work them no\nmore mischief.\n\nWhen Uther had brought his business to a good end, he took his way\ntowards Winchester, and the flower of his chivalry with him. On his\nroad a messenger met him who told him of a surety the king was dead,\nand as to the manner of his death. He related how the bishops had laid\nAurelius to rest with great pomp in the Giant's Carol, even as he had\nrequired of his sergeants and barons whilst he was yet alive. At these\ntidings Uther pressed on to Winchester, sparing not the spur. The\npeople came before him on his passage clamouring shrilly. \"Uther,\nsire,\" cried the common folk, \"since he is dead who maintained the\npoor, and did nought but good to his people, we have none to defend\nus, save thee. Take then the crown, as thine by heritage and right.\nFair sire, we thy poor commons pray this thing, who desire nothing but\nthy worship and thy gain.\" Uther rejoiced greatly at their words. He\nsaw clearly where his profit lay, and that no advancement is possible\nto a king. He hastened, therefore, to do as the folk entreated. He\ntook the crown, and becoming king, loved well his people, and guarded\nthe honour of the realm. In remembrance of the dragon, and of the\nhardy knight who should be king and a father of kings, which it\nbetokened, Uther wrought two golden dragons, by the counsel of his\nbarons. One of these dragons he caused to be borne before him when he\nwent into battle. The other he sent to Winchester to be set up in the\nchurch of the bishop. For this reason he was ever after called Uther\nPendragon. Pendragon was his name in the Britons' tongue, but Dragon's\nhead in that of Rome.\n\nUther was a mighty lord, who had confidence in his power. His sacring\nat Winchester he held for proof and token that he was a king who would\nbeget puissant princes, by whom great deeds should be done. This faith\nin his destiny gave him increase of strength. He determined in his\nheart that he would accomplish all that was foretold of him, and that\nthrough good report and ill, never would he turn back. He knew and was\npersuaded that whatever the task he took in hand, he must in fulness\nof time bring it to a good end. Merlin was a true prophet; and since\nno lying spirit was in his mouth, it was impossible to doubt that very\nswiftly all these things would come to pass.\n\nNow Octa, the son of Hengist, had received from Aurelius broad lands\nand fair manors for him and his companions. When Octa knew that the\nmighty captain was dead, he kept neither loyalty nor faith with a king\nwhom he despised in his heart. He called together a great company of\nhis friends and kinsmen, and amongst them Ossa, his cousin. Octa and\nOssa were hardy champions, and they were the lords of the host. With\nthem moreover were such folk as had escaped from Uther at the slaying\nof Passent. These Octa had taken to himself, so that his fellowship\nwas passing strong. This host overran the realm from Humber to\nScotland, and subdued it in every part. Octa then came before York,\nand would have seized it by violence, but the burgesses of the city\nheld it stoutly against him, so that the pagans might not enter within\nthe walls. He sat down, therefore, before the gates, and invested the\ncity straitly, by reason of the numbers of his host. Uther had no\nthought but to succour his city, and to rescue his friends who were\nshut within. He marched hot foot to York, calling his men together\nfrom every part. Being resolved at all cost to force the heathen to\ngive over the siege, Uther offered them battle without delay. The\nMelly was right sharp and grievous. Many a soul was parted from the\nbody. The heathen played their parts as men, and contended boldly with\nthe sword. The Britons could do them no mischief. They might not force\ntheir way into the city, neither could those within prevail to issue\nforth. The Batons might endure the battle no longer. They gave back in\nthe press, and as they fled, the pursuing Saxons did them marvellous\ndamage. The pursuit lasted until the Britons took refuge in a fastness\nof those parts, and the night parted the adverseness one from the\nother. This mountain was named Damen. The peak was very sharp. About\nits flanks were rocks and precipices, whilst close at hand stood a\nthicket of hazel trees. Upon this mountain the Britons climbed. By\nthis way and that, they ascended the height, until they sought safety\non the summit. There the heathen shut them fast, for they sat beneath\nthem in the plain, whilst all about them stretched the mountain.\n\nThe king was very fearful, and not for himself alone. He was in sore\nstraits and perplexity as to what he should do to get his spearmen\nfrom the trap. Now Gorlois, Earl of Cornwall, was with the king. This\nlord was very valiant and courteous, though stricken in years, and was\nesteemed of all as a right prudent councillor. To him the king went,\nand unravelled all the coil. Uther prayed Gorlois to counsel him as\nbecame his honour, for he knew well that the earl regarded honour\nbeyond the loss of life or limb. \"You ask me my counsel,\" said\nGorlois. \"My counsel--so it be according to your will--is that we\nshould arm ourselves forthwith, and get down from this hill amongst\nour foes. They are assuredly sleeping at this hour, for they despise\nus overmuch to deem that we shall challenge them again to battle. In\nthe morning they will come to seek us--so we await them in the trap.\nLet us take our fate in our hands like men, and fall upon them\nsuddenly. The foe will then be confused and bewildered, for we must\ncome upon them silently, without battle cry or blowing of trumpets.\nBefore they are awakened from sleep, we shall have slain so many in\nour onset, that those who escape from our swords will not dare to\nrally against us in their flight. Only this thing first. Let every man\nhave penitence for that he has done amiss. Let us ask God's pardon for\nthe sins that we have wrought, and promise faithfully to amend our\nlives. Let us turn from the wickedness wherein we have walked all\nthese days; praying the Saviour to hold us in His hand, and grant us\nstrength against those who fear not His name, and make war upon His\nChristians. If we do these things God will sustain our quarrel; and if\nGod be with us who then can do us wrong?\"\n\nThis counsel seemed good to the king and his captains. They did as\nGorlois said, and humbled themselves before God with a contrite heart,\npromising to put away the evil from their lives. After they had made\nan end of prayer, they took their arms, and stole down the hillside to\nthe valley. The Britons came amongst the pagans lying naked upon the\nground, and fast in sleep. The swordplay was right merry, for the\nslaughter was very great. The Britons thrust their glaives deep in the\nbreasts of the foe. They lopped heads and feet and wrists from their\nbodies. The Britons ranged like lions amongst their enemies. They were\nas lions a-hungered for their prey, killing ewes and lambs, and all\nthe sheep of the flock, whether small or great. Thus the Britons\ndid, for they spared neither spearman nor captain. The heathen were\naltogether dismayed. They were yet heavy with sleep, and could neither\nget to their harness, nor flee from the field. No mercy was shown them\nfor all their nakedness. Armed or naked the sword was thrust through\ntheir breast or heart or bowels. In that place the heathen perished\nfrom the land, since the Christians destroyed them utterly. Octa and\nOssa, the lords of their host--these troublers of Britain--were taken\nalive. They were led to London, and set fast in a strong prison, bound\nin iron. If any of their fellows escaped from the battle, it was only\nby reason of the blackness of the night. He who was able to flee, ran\nfrom the field. He tarried not to succour his own familiar friend. But\nmany more were slam in that surprise than got safely away.\n\nWhen Uther parted from York he passed throughout Northumberland. From\nNorthumberland he entered into Scotland, having many ships and a great\nhost with him. He went about the length and breadth of the land, and\npurged it throughly in every part. Such folk as were oppressed of\ntheir neighbours he confirmed in their rights. Never before had the\nrealm such rest and peace as in the days of Uther the king. After\nUther had brought his business in the north to an end, he set forth\nto London, where he purposed to take the crown on Easter Day. Uther\ndesired the feast to be very rich and great. He summoned therefore\ndukes, earls, and wardens, yea, all his baronage from near and far,\nby brief and message, to come with their wedded dames and privy\nhouseholds to London for his feast. So all the lords came at the\nking's commandment, bringing their wives as they were bidden. Very\nrichly the feast was holden. After the Mass was sung, that fair\ncompany went in hall to meat. The king sat at the head of his hall,\nupon a dais. The lords of his realm were ranged about him, each in his\norder and degree. The Earl of Cornwall was near the king's person, so\nthat one looked upon the other's face. By the earl's side was seated\nIgerne, his wife. There was no lady so fair in all the land. Right\ncourteous was the dame, noble of peerage, and good as she was fair.\n\nThe king had heard much talk of this lady, and never aught but praise.\nHis eyes were ravished with her beauty. He loved her dearly, and\ncoveted her hotly in his heart, for certainly she was marvellously\npraised. He might not refrain from looking upon her at table, and his\nhope and desire tyrned to her more and more. Whether he ate or drank,\nspoke or was silent, she was ever in his thought. He glanced aside at\nthe lady, and smiled if she met his eye. All that he dared of love\nhe showed. He saluted her by his privy page, and bestowed upon her a\ngift. He jested gaily with the dame, looking nicely upon her, and made\na great semblance of friendship. Igerne was modest and discreet. She\nneither granted Uther's hope, nor denied. The earl marked well these\nlookings and laughings, these salutations and gifts. He needed no\nother assurance that the king had set his love upon his wife. Gorlois\ndeemed that he owed no faith to a lord who would supplant him in her\nheart. The earl rose from his seat at table; he took his dame by the\nhand, and went straight from the hall. He called the folk of his\nhousehold about him, and going to the stables, got him to horse. Uther\nsent after Gorlois by his chamberlain, telling him that he did shame\nand wrong in departing from the court without taking leave of his\nking. He bade him to do the right, and not to treat his lord so\ndespitefully, lest a worse thing should befall him. He could have but\nlittle trust in his king, if he would not return for a space. Gorlois\nrode proudly from the court without leave or farewell. The king\nmenaced him very grievously, but the earl gave small heed to his\nthreats, for he recked nothing of what might chance. He went into\nCornwall, and arrayed his two castles, making them ready against the\nwar. His wife he put in his castle of Tintagel, for this was the home\nof his father and of his race. It was a strong keep, easily holden of\na few sergeants, since none could climb or throw down the walls. The\ncastle stood on a tall cliff, near by the sea. Men might not win to\nenter by the gate, and saving the gate, there was no door to enter in\nthe tower.\n\nThe earl shut his lady fast in the tower. He dared hide his treasure\nin no other place, lest thieves broke through, and stole her from him.\nTherefore he sealed her close in Tintagel. For himself he took the\nrest of his men-at-arms, and the larger part of his knights, and rode\nswiftly to the other strong fortress that was his. The king heard that\nGorlois had garnished and made ready his castle, purposing to defend\nhimself even against his lord. Partly to avenge himself upon the earl,\nand partly to be near his vassal's wife, the king arrayed a great\nhost. He crossed the Severn, and coming before the castle where the\nearl lay, he sought to take it by storm. Finding that he might not\nspeed, he sat down before the tower, and laid siege to those within.\nThe host invested the castle closely for full seven days, but could\nnot breach the walls. The earl stubbornly refused to yield, for he\nawaited succour from the King of Ireland, whom he had entreated to his\naid. King Uther's heart was in another place. He was weaned beyond\nmeasure of Gorlois and his castle. His love for Igerne urged and\ncalled him thence, for the lady was sweeter to his mind than any other\nin the world. At the end he bade to him a baron of his household,\nnamed Ulfin, who was privy to his mind. Him he asked secretly of that\nwhich he should do. \"Ulfin,\" said the king, \"my own familiar friend,\ncounsel me wisely, for my hope is in thee. My love for Igerne hath\nutterly cast me down I am altogether broken and undone. I cannot go or\ncome about my business; I cannot wake nor sleep, I cannot rise from my\nbed nor lay my head on the pillow; neither can I eat or drink, except\nthat this lady is ever in my mind. How to gain her to my wish I cannot\ntell. But this I know, that I am a dead man if you may not counsel me\nto my hope.\" \"Oh my king,\" answered Ulfin, \"I marvel at your words.\nYou have tormented the earl grievously with your war, and have burned\nhis lands. Do you think to win a wife's heart by shutting her husband\nclose in his tower? You show your love for the dame by harassing the\nlord! No, the matter is too high for me, and I have one only counsel\nto give you. Merlin is with us in the host. Send after him, for he is\na wise clerk, and the best counsellor of any man living. If Merlin may\nnot tell you what to do, there is none by whom you may win to your\ndesire.\"\n\nKing Uther, by the counsel of Ulfin, commanded Merlin to be brought\nbefore him. The king opened out his bitter need. He prayed that for\npity's sake Merlin would find him a way to his hope, so he were able,\nsince die he must if of Igerne he got no comfort. But let the clerk\nseek and buy so that the king had his will. Money and wealth would be\ngranted plenteously, if gold were needed, for great as was the king's\nevil, so large would be his delight. \"Sire,\" answered Merlin, \"have\nher you shall. Never let it be said that you died for a woman's love.\nRight swiftly will I bring you to your wish, or evil be the bounty\nthat I receive of the king's hand. Hearken to me. Igerne is guarded\nvery closely in Tintagel. The castle is shut fast, and plenteously\nsupplied with all manner of store. The walls are strong and high, so\nthat it may not be taken by might; and it is victualled so well,\nthat none may win there by siege. The castle also is held of loyal\ncastellans, but for all their vigils, I know well how to enter therein\nat my pleasure, by reason of my potions. By craft I can change a man's\ncountenance to the fashion of his neighbour, and of two men each shall\ntake on his fellow's semblance. In body and visage, in speech and\nseeming, without doubt I can shape you to the likeness of the Earl\nof Cornwall. Why waste the time with many words! You, sire, shall\nbe fashioned as the earl. I, who purpose to go with you on this\nadventure, will wear the semblance of Bertel. Ulfin, here, shall\ncome in the guise of Jordan. These two knights are the earl's chosen\nfriends, and are very close to his mind and heart. In this manner we\nmay enter boldly in his castle of Tintagel, and you shall have your\nwill of the lady. We shall be known of none, for not a man will doubt\nus other than we seem.\" The king had faith in Merlin's word, and held\nhis counsel good. He gave over the governance of the host, privily, to\na lord whom he much loved. Merlin put forth his arts, and transfigured\ntheir faces and vesture into the likeness of the earl and his people.\nThat very night the king and his companions entered in Tintagel. The\nporter in his lodge, and the steward within his office, deemed him\ntheir lord. They welcomed him gladly, and served him with joy.\nWhen meat was done the king had his delight of a lady who was much\ndeceived. Of that embrace Igerne conceived the good, the valiant,\nand the trusty king whom you have known as Arthur. Thus was Arthur\nbegotten, who was so renowned and chivalrous a lord.\n\nNow the king's men learned very speedily that Uther had departed from\nthe host. The captains were wearied of sitting before the castle. To\nreturn the more quickly to their homes, they got into their harness\nand seized their arms. They did not tarry to order the battle, or make\nready ladders for the wall, but they approached the tower in their\ndisarray. The king's men assaulted the castle from every side, and the\nearl defended himself manfully, but at the last he himself was slain,\nand the castle was swiftly taken. Those who were fortunate enough to\nescape from the tower fled lightfoot to Tintagel. There they published\nthe news of this misadventure, and the death of their lord. The sorrow\nand lamentation of those who bewailed the earl's death reached the\nears of the king. He came forth from his chamber, and rebuked the\nmessengers of evil tidings. \"Why all this noise and coil?\" cried he \"I\nam safe and sound, thank God, as you may see by looking on my face.\nThese tidings are not true, and you must neither believe all that the\nmessengers proclaim, nor deem that they tell naught but lies. The\ncause is plain why my household think me lost. I came out from the\ncastle taking leave and speaking to no man. None knew that I went\nsecretly through the postern, nor that I rode to you at Tintagel, for\nI feared treachery upon the way. Now men cry and clamour of my death,\nbecause I was not seen when the king won within the tower. Doubtless\nit is a grievous thing to have lost my keep, and to know that so many\ngoodly spearmen lie dead behind the walls. But whilst I live, my goods\nat least are my own. I will go forth to the king, requiring a peace,\nwhich he will gladly accord me. I will go at once, before he may come\nto Tintagel, seeking to do us mischief, for if he falls upon us in\nthis trap we shall pipe to deaf ears.\"\n\nIgerne praised the counsel of him she deemed her lord. The king\nembraced her by reason of her tenderness, and kissed her as he bade\nfarewell. He departed straightway from the castle, and his familiars\nwith him. When they had ridden for a while upon the road, Merlin again\nput forth his enchantments, so that he, the king, and Ulfin took their\nown shapes, and became as they had been before. They hastened to the\nhost without drawing rein, for the king was with child to know how the\ncastle was so swiftly taken, and in what manner the earl was slain. He\ncommanded before him his captains, and from this man and that sought\nto arrive at the truth. Uther considered the adventure, and took his\nlords to witness that whoever had done the earl to death, had done not\naccording to his will. He called to mind Earl Gorlois' noble deeds,\nand made complaint of his servants, looking upon the barons very\nevilly. He wore the semblance of a man in sore trouble, but there were\nfew who were so simple as to believe him. Uther returned with his host\nbefore Tintagel. He cried to those who stood upon the wall asking why\nthey purposed to defend the tower, since their lord was dead and his\ncastle taken, neither could they look for succour in the realm, or\nfrom across the sea. The castellans knew that the king spake sooth,\nand that for them there was no hope of aid. They therefore set open\nthe gates of the castle, and gave the fortress and its keys into\nthe king's hand. Uther, whose love was passing hot, spoused Igerne\nforthwith, and made her his queen. She was with child, and when her\ntime was come to be delivered, she brought forth a son. This son was\nnamed Arthur, with the rumour of whose praise the whole world has been\nfilled. After the birth of Arthur, Uther got upon Igerne a daughter\ncleped Anna. When this maiden came of age she was bestowed upon a\nright courteous lord, called Lot of Lyones. Of this marriage was born\nGawain, the stout knight and noble champion.\n\nUther reigned for a long time in health and peace. Then he fell into a\ngreat sickness, failing alike in mind and strength. His infirmity lay\nso sore upon him, that he might not get him from his bed. The warders,\nwho watched over his prison in London, were passing weary of their\nlong guard, and were corrupted also by fair promises that were made.\nThey took rich gifts from Octa, that was Hengist's son, and from Ossa,\nhis cousin, and delivering them out of their bonds, let them go free\nfrom their dungeon. Octa and Ossa returned swiftly to their own place.\nThey purchased war galleys to themselves, and gathering their men\nabout them menaced Uther very grievously. With a great company\nof knights, and spearmen, and archers they passed the marches of\nScotland, burning and spoiling all the realm. Since Uther was sick,\nand could do little to defend his life and land, he called Lot, the\nhusband of his daughter, to his aid. To this lord he committed the\nguidance of his host, and appointed him constable of his knights. He\ncommanded these that they should hearken Lot as himself, and observe\nall his biddings. This Uther did because he knew Lot for a courteous\nand liberal lord, cunning in counsel, and mighty with the spear.\n\nNow Octa vexed the Britons very sorely. He boasted himself greatly, by\nreason of the number of his folk, and of the kings weakness. To avenge\nhis father's death and his own wrongs, he made Britain fearful of his\nname; for he neither granted truce nor kept faith. Lot met Octa once\nand again in battle. Many a time he vanquished his foe, but often\nenough the victory remained with Octa. The game of war is like a game\nof tables. Each must lose in his turn, and the player who wins to-day\nwill fail to-morrow. At the end Octa was discomfited, and was driven\nfrom the country. But it afterwards befell that the Britons despised\nLot. They would pay no heed to his summons, this man for reason of\njealousy, this other because of the sharing of the spoil. The war,\ntherefore, came never to an end, till the king himself perceived that\nsomething was amiss, whilst the folk of the country said openly that\nthe captains were but carpet knights, who made pretence of war. At\nthis certain men of repute came before the king, praying him to\nremain no longer hidden from his people. \"Come what may,\" said these\ncounsellors, \"you must get to the host, and show yourself to the\nbarons.\" The king took them at their word. He caused himself to be set\nwithin a horse litter, and carried, as though in a bier, amongst his\npeople. \"Now we shall see,\" said these, \"which of these recreant lords\nwill follow him to the host.\" The king sent urgent messages to the\nknights who were so disdainful of Lot, summoning them on their\nallegiance to hasten to his aid. For himself he was carried straight\nto Verulam.[1] This once was a fair city where St. Alban fell upon his\ndeath, but was now altogether ravaged and destroyed of the heathen.\nOcta had led his people to the city, and seized thereon, making fast\nthe gates. The king sat down without the town. He caused great engines\nto be arrayed to break through the wall, but it was very strong, and\nhe might make no breach. Octa and his friends made merry over the\ncatapults set over against them. On a morning they opened wide their\ngates, and came forth to do battle with the king. A vile matter it\nseemed to them that the door should be locked and barred because of\na king lying sick within a litter. They could not endure to be so\ndespised that he should fight against them from his coffin. As I deem\ntheir pride went before a fall. That captain won who was deserving of\nthe victory. The heathen were defeated, and in that battle Octa and\nhis fair cousin Ossa were slain.\n\n[Footnote 1: St. Albans.]\n\nMany who escaped from the field fled into Scotland. There they made\nColgrin their chieftain, who was a friend of Octa and his cousin.\nUther rejoiced so greatly by reason of his victory, and of the honour\nGod had shown him, that for sheer joy he was as a man healed and\naltogether whole. He set himself to hearten his barons, and inspire\nthem with his own courage. He said to his men, with mirth, \"I like\nrather to be on my bier, languishing in long infirmity, than to use\nhealth and strength in fleeing from my foe. The Saxons disdained me,\nholding me in despite because I cannot rise from my bed; but it has\nbefallen that he who hath one foot in the grave hath overthrown the\nquick. Forward then, and press hardly on their heels who seek to\ndestroy our religion from the land.\"\n\nWhen the king had rested him for a space, and had encouraged the lords\nwith his words, he would have followed after the heathen. Seeing that\nhis sickness was yet heavy upon him, the barons prayed that he would\nsojourn awhile in the city, until it pleased God to give him solace\nfrom his hurt. This they said fearing lest his courage should bring\nhim to his death. It chanced, therefore, that the host departed,\nleaving Uther at Verulam, because of his infirmity, none being with\nhim, save the folk of his private household. Now the Saxons who were\ndriven from the land, when they had drawn together, considered within\nthemselves that if the king were but dead, he had no heir who might do\nthem a mischief, and despoil them of their goods. Since they had no\ntrust in their weapons, doubting that they could slay him with the\nsword, they devised to murder the king by craft and poison. They\nsuborned certain evil-doers, whose names I do not know, by promises\nof pennies and of land. These men they conveyed to the king's court,\narrayed in ragged raiment, the better to spy in what fashion\nthey might draw near his person and carry out their purpose. The\nmalefactors came to Verulam, but for all their cunning and craft of\ntongues, in no way could they win anigh the king. They went to and fro\nso often; they listened to the servitors' talk so readily; that in the\nend they knew that the king drank nothing but cold water, that other\nliquor never passed his lips. This water was grateful to his sickness.\nIt sprang from a well very near his hall, and of this water he drank\nfreely, for none other was to his mind. When these privy murderers\nwere persuaded that they might never come so close to the king's body\nas to slay him with a knife, they sowed their poison in the well. They\nlurked secretly about the country, until it came to their ears when\nand how he died, and then fled incontinent whence they came. Presently\nthe king was athirst, and called for drink. His cupbearer gave him\nwater, laced with venom, from the spring. Uther drank of the cup, and\nwas infected by the plague, so that there was no comfort for him save\nin death. His body swelled, becoming foul and black, and very soon\nhe died. Right quickly all those who drank of the water from that\nfountain died of the death from which their lord lay dead. After this\nthing became known, and the malice of these evil-doers was made clear,\nthe burgesses of the city met together, and choked the well for\nevermore. They cast therein so much earth, that a pyre stood above\nthe source, as a witness to this deed. Uther the king having fallen\nasleep, his body was borne to Stonehenge, and laid to rest close by\nAurelius, his brother; the brethren lying side by side. The bishops\nand barons of the realm gathered themselves together, and sent\nmessages to Arthur, Uther's son, bidding him to Cirencester to be made\ntheir king. Arthur at the time of his coronation was a damoiseau of\nsome fifteen years, but tall and strong for his age. His faults and\nvirtues I will show you alike, for I have no desire to lead you astray\nwith words. He was a very virtuous knight, right worthy of praise,\nwhose fame was much in the mouths of men. To the haughty he was proud,\nbut tender and pitiful to the simple. He was a stout knight and a\nbold: a passing crafty captain, as indeed was but just, for skill and\ncourage were his servants at need: and large of his giving. He was\none of Love's lovers; a lover also of glory; and his famous deeds are\nright fit to be kept in remembrance. He ordained the courtesies of\ncourts, and observed high state in a very splendid fashion. So long as\nhe lived and reigned he stood head and shoulders above all princes\nof the earth, both for courtesy and prowess, as for valour and\nliberality. When this Arthur was freshly crowned king, of his own free\nwill he swore an oath that never should the Saxons have peace or rest\nso long as they tarried in his realm. This he did by reason that for\na great while they had troubled the land, and had done his father and\nhis uncle to their deaths. Arthur called his meinie to his aid. He\nbrought together a fair company of warriors, bestowing on them largely\nof his bounty, and promising to grant largely of the spoil. With this\nhost he hastened into the land that lay about York, Colgrin--who was\nthe chief and captain of these Saxons since the slaying of Octa--had\nmany Picts and Scots in his fellowship, besides a goodly company of\nhis own people. He desired nothing more hotly than to meet Arthur in\nbattle, and to abate his pride. The armies drew together upon the\nbanks of the Douglas. The two hosts fell one upon the other furiously,\nand many a sergeant perished that day, by reason of lance thrust, or\nquarrel, or dart. At the end Colgrin was discomfited, and fled from\nthe field. Arthur followed swiftly after, striving to come upon his\nadversary, before he might hide him in York. But Colgrin, for all his\npains, took refuge in the city; so Arthur sat him down without the\nwalls.\n\nNow Baldulph, the brother of Colgrin, tamed by the shore, awaiting the\ncoming of Cheldric, the king, and his Saxons from Germany. When he\nheard the tidings of what had befallen Colgrin at the Ford of Douglas,\nand of how he was holden straitly by Arthur in York, he was passing\nheavy and sorrowful, for with this Colgrin was all his hope. Baldulph\nmade no further tarrying for Cheldric. He broke up his camp, and\nmarching towards York, set his comrades in ambush, within a deep\nwood, some five miles from the host. Together with the folk of his\nhousehold, and the strangers of his fellowship, Baldulph had in his\ncompany six thousand men in mail. He trusted to fall upon Arthur by\nnight, when he was unready, and force him to give over the siege. But\ncertain of the country who had spied Baldulph spread this snare, ran\nto the king, and showed him of the matter. Arthur, knowing of the\nmalice of Baldulph, took counsel with Cador, Earl of Cornwall, a brave\ncaptain, who had no fear of death. He delivered to the earl's care\nseven hundred horsemen, and of spearmen three thousand, and sent him\nsecretly to fall upon Baldulph in his lurking place. Cador did the\nking's bidding. The Saxons heard no rumour of his coming, for the host\ndrew to the wood privily without trumpet or battle cry. Then when\nCador was near the foe, he cried his name, and burst fiercely upon the\nheathen with the sword. In this combat there perished of the Saxons\nmore than three thousand men. Had it not been for the darkness of the\nnight, and the hindrance of the wood, not one might have fled on his\nfeet. Baldulph, the cunning captain, got him safely from the field, by\nhiding beneath every bush and brake. He had lost the fairer and the\nstronger half of his meinie, and was at his wits' end to know how to\ntake counsel with his brother, or to come to his aid. But speak with\nhim he would, so that craft and courage might find a way. Baldulph\ndevised to seek the besiegers' camp in the guise of a jongleur. He\narrayed himself in all points as a harper, for he knew well how to\nchant songs and lays, and to touch the strings tunably. For his\nbrother's sake he made himself as a fool. He shaved off one half of\nhis beard and moustache, and caused the half of his head to be polled\nlikewise. He hung a harp about his neck, and showed in every respect\nas a lewd fellow and a jester. Baldulph presently went forth from his\nabode, being known again of none. He went to and fro harping on his\nharp, till he stood beneath the walls of the city. The warders on the\ntowers hearkened to his speech, so that they drew him up by cords upon\nthe wall. At Baldulph's tale the folk within the city despaired of\nsuccour, and knew not how to flee, nor where to escape. In their\nextremity the news was bruited amongst them that Cheldric had come to\na haven in Scotland, with a fleet of five hundred galleys, and was\nspeeding to York. Cheldric knew and was persuaded that Arthur dared\nnot abide his onset. This was a right judgment, for Arthur made haste\nto begone. The king called a council of his captains, and by their\nrede decided not to await Cheldric at York, neither to give him\nbattle, because of the proud and marvellous host that was with him,\n\"Let the king fall back upon London,\" said the lords, \"and summon\nhis meinie about him. The king's power will increase daily, and if\nCheldric have the hardihood to follow, with the more confidence we\nshall fight.\" Arthur took his captains at their word. He let well the\nsiege, and came to London, that he might strengthen his castle, choose\nhis own battle ground, and trouble his adversary the more surely.\nArthur, by the rede of his counsellors, sent letters to his nephew,\nthe son of his sister, Hoel, King of Little Britain. For in that\ncountry dwelt many strong barons, sib to his flesh, and the stoutest\nknights of his race. In these letters, and by the mouth of his\nambassadors, Arthur prayed the king to hasten to his rescue. If Hoel\ncame not swiftly over sea--wrote the king--certainly his realm would\nbe taken from him, and shame would always be on those who watched\ntamely their cousin stripped of his heritage.\n\nWhen this bitter cry came to Hoel he sought neither hindrance nor\nexcuse. His vassals and kinsmen got in their harness forthwith. They\narrayed their ships, and set thereon the stores. Within these ships\nthere entered twelve thousand knights alone, without taking count of\nthe sergeants and archers. So in a good hour they crossed the sea,\ncoming with a fair wind to the port of Southampton. Arthur welcomed\nthem with great joy, showing them the honour which it became him to\noffer. They made no long tarrying at Southampton, nor wasted the day\nin fair words and idle courtesies. The king had summoned his vassals,\nand had brought together his household. Without speeches and blowings\nof trumpets the two hosts set forth together towards Lincoln, which\nCheldric had besieged but had not yet taken. Arthur came swiftly and\nsecretly upon Cheldric. He fell silently upon the Saxons, making no\nstir with horns and clarions. King Arthur and his men slew so many in\nso grim and stark a fashion, that never was seen such slaughter, such\nsorrow and destruction, as they made of the Saxons in one single day.\nThe Saxons thought only of flight. They stripped off their armour to\nrun the more lightly, and abandoned their horses on the field\nSome fled to the mountains, others by the valleys, and many flung\nthemselves into the river, and were drowned miserably, striving to get\nthem from their foe. The Britons followed hotly at their heels, giving\nthe quarry neither rest nor peace. They struck many a mighty blow with\nthe sword, on the heads, the necks, and bodies of their adversaries.\nThe chase endured from Lincoln town to the wood of Cehdon. The Saxons\ntook refuge within the thick forest, and drew together the remnants of\ntheir power. For their part, the Britons watched the wood, and held\nit very strictly. Now Arthur feared lest the Saxons should steal\nfrom their coverts by night, and escape from his hand. He commanded,\ntherefore, his meinie to cut down the trees on the skirts of the\nforest. These trunks he placed one upon another, lacing the branches\nfast together, and enclosing his foe. Then he sat down on the further\nside of his barrier, so that none might issue forth, nor enter in.\nThose within the wood were altogether dismayed, since they might\nneither eat nor drink. There was no man so cunning or strong, so rich\nor valiant, who could devise to carry bread and wine, flesh and flour,\nfor their sustenance. Three days they endured without food, till Thur\nbodies were weak with hunger. Since they would not die of famine, and\nmight not win forth from the wood by arms, they took counsel as to\nwhat it were well to do. They approached Arthur, praying him to keep\nraiment and harness and all that they had, saving only their ships,\nand let them depart to their own land. They promised to put hostages\nin his power, and render a yearly tribute of their wealth, so only the\nking allowed them to go on foot to the shore, and enter naked in the\nships. Arthur set faith in their word. He gave them leave to depart,\nreceiving hostages for assurance of their covenant. He rendered them\nthe ships, but kept their armour as a spoil, so that they left the\nrealm without a mantle to their bodies, or a sword for their defence.\nThe Saxons set out across the water, until their sails were lost to\nsight. I know not what was their hope, nor the name of him who put it\nin their mind, but they turned their boats, and passed through the\nchannel between England and Normandy. With sail and oar they came to\nthe land of Devon, casting anchor in the haven of Totnes. The heathen\nbreathed out threatenings and slaughter against the folk of the\ncountry. They poured forth from their ships, and scattered themselves\nabroad amongst the people, searching out arms and raiment, firing\nhomesteads and slaying Christian men. They passed to and fro about the\ncountry, carrying off all they found beneath their hands. Not only did\nthey rob the hind of his weapon, but they slew him on his hearth with\nhis own knife. Thus throughout Somerset and a great part of Dorset,\nthese pirates spoiled and ravaged at their pleasure, finding none to\nhinder them at their task. For the barons who might have made head\nagainst them were in Scotland with the king. So by road and country,\nladen with raiment and all manner of spoil, the Saxons came from their\nships to Bath. But the citizens of the town shut fast their gates, and\ndefended the walls against them.\n\nArthur was in Scotland, punishing the folk of that realm, because\nof the war they had made upon him, and of the aid they had afforded\nCheldric. When the king learned what mischief the pagans had done to\nhis land, and of the siege they laid to Bath, he hanged his hostages\nstraightway. He dared tarry no longer in Scotland, but hastened south,\nleaving Hoel of Brittany lying sick at Dumbarton, I know not of what\ninfirmity. With what men he might, Arthur came to Bath as swiftly as\nhe was able, since he was resolved to chase the Saxons from before the\ngates, and succour the burgesses of his city. Now, near this town a\nwood stands within a wide country, and there Arthur arranged his men\nand ordered the battle. He saw to the arming of his meinie, and for\nhimself got him into his harness. Arthur donned thigh pieces of steel,\nwrought strong and fairly by some cunning smith. His hauberk was stout\nand richly chased, even such a vesture as became so puissant a king.\nHe girt him with his sword, Excalibur. Mighty was the glaive, and\nlong in the blade. It was forged in the Isle of Avalon, and he who\nbrandished it naked in his hand deemed himself a happy man. His helmet\ngleamed upon his head. The nasal was of gold; circlets of gold adorned\nthe headpiece, with many a clear stone, and a dragon was fashioned for\nits crest. This helm had once been worn by Uther, his sire. The king\nwas mounted on a destrier, passing fair, strong, and speedy, loving\nwell the battle. He had set his shield about his neck, and, certes,\nshowed a stout champion, and a right crafty captain. On the buckler\nwas painted in sweet colours the image of Our Lady St. Mary. In her\nhonour and for remembrance, Arthur bore her semblance on his shield.\nIn his hand the king carried his lance, named Ron. Sharp it was at\nthe head, tough and great, and very welcome at need in the press of\nbattle. Arthur gave his commands to his captains, and ordained the\norder of the combat. He caused his host to march in rank and company\nat a slow pace towards the foe, so that when the battle was joined\nnone might flinch but that he was sustained of his comrades. The host\ndrew near to a certain mountain of those parts, and began to climb the\nhill. The Saxons held this mountain strongly, and defended the height,\nas though they were shut fast and safely behind walls. Small cause had\nthe heathen for such assurance of safety, for a mighty captain was\nupon them, who would not endure their presence in his realm. Arthur\nled his spearmen upon the slope, and there admonished his men.\n\"Behold,\" said he, \"and see before you those false and scornful\nheathen, who have destroyed and ravished your kith and kin, your near\nones and neighbours, and on your own goods and bodies have done so\nmuch mischief. Avenge now your friends and your kinsfolk; avenge the\ngreat ruin and burnings; avenge all the loss and the travail that for\nso long a space we have suffered at their hands. For myself this day\nI will avenge me for all these bitter wrongs. I will avenge the oaths\nthese perjurers have broken. I will silence the crying of my fathers'\nblood. This day I will exact the price for all they have cost me in\nloss and in sorrows, and avenge the bad faith which led them to return\nto Totnes. If but this day we bear us in the battle like men, and\nsmite the heathen in their fastness, never again will they array\nthemselves proudly against us, but will be for ever before us as naked\nmen without a shield.\" With these words Arthur set his buckler before\nhim, and hastened to the playing of the swords. I know not the name\nof the Saxon who ran upon him in the stour, but the king smote him so\nfiercely that he died. Before Arthur passed across the body he cried\naloud, \"God aid, Saint Mary succour. He gives twice,\" said he, gaily,\n\"who gives quickly. Here lies one whose lodging for the night I have\npaid.\" When the Britons saw this deed they aided the king mightily,\nbeating down and slaying the Saxons very grievously. They pressed upon\nthem from every side, thrusting shrewdly with the spear, and striking\nlustily with the sword. Arthur was of marvellous hardihood. Strong\nbeyond the common strength and of great prowess, with lifted shield\nand terrible sword he hewed a path towards the summit of the mount. He\nstruck to right and to left, slaying many, so that the press gave back\nbefore so stout a champion. To himself alone he slew four hundred\nheathen that day, working them more mischief than was done by all his\nmen. To an evil end came the captains of these Saxons. Baldulph lay\ndead upon the mount, and dead also was Colgrin. Cheldric and some\nothers fled from the field, and would have got them to their ships\nthat they might enter therein and garnish for their needs.\n\nWhen Arthur heard tidings of Cheldric's flight, and that he sought\nagain his ships, he bade Cador of Cornwall to follow swiftly after the\nfugitives, giving ten thousand horsemen to his keeping chosen from his\nbest and closest friends. For his part, Arthur himself turned his face\nto Scotland; for a messenger came who told that the wild Scots held\nHoel close within his city, and for a little would take him where he\nlay. Cheldric made in all haste to his ships, but Cador was a crafty\ncaptain, and by a way that he knew well he rode swiftly to Totnes,\nbefore Cheldric might come to the town. He seized the galleys, manning\nthem with archers and country folk, and then hastened hotly on the\ntrack of the fugitives. Two by two, and three by three, these drew\nnear the shore, as best they might hide them from the pursuers. To go\nthe more lightly, to run the more nimbly, they had thrown away their\nharness, and carried nothing save their swords. They pained themselves\nto get to the ships, deeming that if they might enter therein their\ntroubles would be at an end. As they strove to ford the river Teign,\nCador, the huntsman, came winding upon their slot. The Saxons were\ndismayed beyond measure, and without stay or delay fled from their\nfoe. Cador lighted upon Cheldric in the steep mountain, called\nTenedic, and slew him in that place. As Cador came on Cheldric's\ncompanions he killed them with the sword, in sore sorrow. For those\nwho escaped from Cador they made their way from every part to the\nships. There they were slain by the archers, or perished miserably in\nthe sea. The Britons took no captives, he who cried for mercy perished\nalike with him who strove with his sword. The rest of the Saxons fled\nto the coverts of the woods and the mountains, by large companies. In\nsuch desolate and waste places they lurked and hid from their enemies\nuntil hunger and thirst put a term to their miseries.\n\nWhen Cador had made an end of his slaying, and given quiet to the\nland, he followed after Arthur, and took the road towards Scotland. He\ncame upon the king at Dumbarton, where he had brought succour to\nhis nephew, Hoel of Brittany. Arthur found Hoel safe in body and in\nwealth, and altogether whole of his infirmity. The Scots had departed\nfrom before the city when they heard that Arthur drew near, and\nhastening to Murray, made strong the towers, and set barriers at the\ngates. This they did because they were resolved to await Arthur in the\ncity, thinking to hold themselves against him behind the walls. Arthur\nknew well that the Scots were gathered together to make head against\nhim in that place. He came therefore to Murray with all his power, but\nthey dared not abide his coming, and for dread fled to Lake Lomond,\nscattering themselves abroad amongst the isles thereof. Passing wide\nand deep is this fair mere. From the hills and valleys round about\nsixty rivers fall therein, and making together one sweet water, pass\nswiftly by a single river to the sea. Sixty islands lie upon this\nwater, the haunt and home of innumerable birds. Each island holds an\neyrie, where none but eagles repair to build their nests, to cry and\nfight together, and take their solace from the world. When evil folk\narrive to raven and devour the realm, then all these eagles gather\nthemselves together, making great coil and clamour, and arraying\nthemselves proudly one against another. One day, or two days, three or\nfour, the mighty birds will strive together; and the interpretation\nthereof portends horror and grim destruction amongst men.\n\nOn this fair lake the Scots sought hiding, going and coming upon its\nwaters Arthur followed swiftly after. He caused to be made shallops,\nbarges, and light, speedy boats, and harassed them grievously in their\nrefuge. By reason of famine and the sword, they died by twenties, by\nhundreds, and by thousands in those secret ways.\n\nNow Guillomer, a certain king from Ireland, wishful to aid the Scots\nin this quarrel, drew towards Arthur with his host. Arthur went his\nway to give him battle. When the battle was joined the Irish king was\ndiscomfited anon. He and his men fled to their ships, getting them\nback to Ireland, and Arthur came again to the mere, where he had left\nhis harrying of the Scots.\n\nThen the bishops and abbots of the realm, with divers monks and other\norders, carrying in their hands bodies of the saints and many holy\nrelics, came before the king beseeching him to show mercy on the\nScots. With these went a pitiful company of ladies of that country,\nnaked of foot, spoiled of visage, with streaming hair and rent\nraiment, bearing their babes in their bosoms. These with tears and\nshrill lamentations fell at Arthur's knees right humbly, weeping,\nclamouring, and imploring his grace. \"Sire, gentle king, have mercy\nand pity,\" cried these lamentable women, \"on this wasted land, and on\nthose wretched men who are dying of hunger and misery. If thou hast no\nbowels of pity for the fathers, look, sire, and behold these babes\nand these mothers; regard their sons and their daughters, and all\nthe distressful folk thou art bringing down to death. Give again the\nfathers to the little children, restore to the ladies their husbands,\nand to this sad company of damsels return their brothers and their\nlords. Have we not paid enough by reason of the Saxon passing this\nway? It was not for our pleasure they sojourned awhile in the land. We\nwent the more heavily for their presence, for much pain and sorrow we\nsuffered because of the heathen, and passing weary were we of their\nspeech. If we sheltered them in our houses, the greater sorrow is\nours, since we have endured the more at their hands. Our beasts they\nhave slain and eaten; and for our goods, these they have taken, and\nsent the gear into their own realm. There was none to help us, nor\nwas any man so strong as to deliver us from their power. Sire, if we\nprepared them a feast, it was because we feared to drink their wine\ncup to the dregs. Might was theirs, and we were as the captive who\nsees no succour on the road. These Saxons were pagan men. Thy servants\nare Christians. Therefore the heathen oppressed us the more mightily,\nand laid the heavier burdens upon us. But great as was the mischief\nthese Saxons wrought us, thou hast done us the sorer harm. Theirs\nwere the whips, but thine are the stinging scorpions. It should prove\nlittle honour to the Christian king that he slay by hunger amongst\nthese rocks those folk who cry his pardon for their trespass. We die,\nsire, of famine and of all misease. Nothing is left us save cold and\nwretchedness. Thou hast overcome us, every one; destroy us not from\nthe land, but suffer us to live of thy bounty. Grant that we and all\nour race--so it be thy pleasure--may find peace in the king's service.\nHave mercy on thy poor Christians. We hold the faith that you, too,\ncount dear. How foully then should Christianity be wronged, if you\ndestroy the whole realm. Alas, has not mischief enough been wrought\nalready!\" Arthur was tender of heart and marvellously pitiful. He took\ncompassion on this doleful company of ladies, and by reason of those\nholy bodies of the saints and those fair prelates, he granted life and\nmember to his captives, and forgave them their debts.\n\nThe Scots, having done homage to the king and owned themselves his\nmen, departed, and went their way. Hoel gazed long upon the mere,\ncalling to him the folk of his house. He wondered exceedingly because\nof the grandeur of the lake, and because of the greatness of the\nwater. He marvelled altogether to behold so many islands therein, and\nat the rocks thereof. He was astonied beyond measure at the number of\nthe eagles and their eyries, at the clamour and the shrilling of\ntheir cries. He deemed in his heart that never had he gazed upon so\nbeautiful a sight. \"Hoel, fair nephew,\" said Arthur, \"very marvellous\nthis water seems in your eyes. Your astonishment will be the more when\nyou look upon yet another mere that I know. Near this lake, in this\nvery country, lies a water held in a cup, not round but square. This\npond is twenty feet in length, twenty in breadth, and the water\nthereof is five feet deep. In the four corners of this pond are many\nfish of divers fashions. These fish pass never from their corner to\nanother. Yet none can certify by touch or sight whether craft keeps\nthese fish each in his place, or what is that hindrance they may not\novercome. Yea, I cannot tell whether the pond was digged by the wit of\nman, or if Nature shaped it to her will. Moreover I know of another\nmere, whereof you would be more amazed than of both these marvels.\nThis lake is close by the Severn in the land of Wales. The sea pours\nits tide into this lake; yet empty itself as it may, the waters of the\nlake remain ever at the same height, never more and never less. The\nocean itself may not suffice to heap its waters above the lake,\nneither to cover its shores. Yet at the ebbing of the tide, when the\nsea turns to flee, then the lake spues forth the water it has taken to\nits belly, so that the banks are swallowed up, the great waves rise\ntall in their wrath, and the wide fields round about are hid, and all\nis sodden with the foam. The folk of that country tell that should a\nman stare upon the wave in its anger, so that his vesture and body be\nwetted of the spray, then, whatever be his strength, the water will\ndraw him to itself, for it is mightier than he. Many a man has\nstruggled and fallen on the brink, and been drowned in its clutch. But\nif a man turn his back upon the water, then he may stand safely upon\nthe bank, taking his pleasure as long as he will. The wave will pass\nby him, doing him no mischief; he will not be wetted even of the\nflying foam.\" So Hoel marvelled greatly at these wonders told him by\nthe king. Then Arthur bade sound his horns, his clarions and trumpets\nto call his meinie to himself. He granted leave to all but the folk of\nhis privy household to return to their homes. The host went therefore\neach to his own place, loudly praising the king. Even in Brittany men\ntold that there was no more valiant captain than he.\n\nArthur turned south to York, abiding there till Christmas was past. He\nkept the Feast of the Nativity within its walls. He marked clearly the\nweakness and impoverishment of the city, and how deeply it was fallen\nfrom its former state. The churches were empty and silent; whilst for\nthe houses they were either breached or fallen to the ground. The\nking appointed Pyramus, a learned clerk who had been diligent in his\nservice, to the vacant see, so that the chapels might be maintained,\nand those convents built anew which the heathen had destroyed. Arthur\ncommanded that the criers should proclaim that all honest folk must\nreturn to their toil. He sent messages to every place, bidding those\nwho were dispossessed of their lands to repair to his court. There he\ngave them again their heritage, and confirmed them in their fiefs and\nrents. Now there were three brethren of right good birth and high\npeerage, kin to many a fair family, having to name Lot, Aguisel,\nand Urian. The forefather of these lords was the earl of that great\ncountry beyond the Humber; and these in their turn held justly their\nfather's lands, doing wrong to none. Arthur rendered these brothers\ntheir own, and restored them their heritage. On Urian, as head of his\nhouse, Arthur bestowed the province of Murray, and without fee or\nrecompense proclaimed him king of that realm. Scotland was given to\nAguisel, who claimed it as his fief. As for Lot, who had the king's\nsister to wife, Arthur confirmed him in that kingdom of Lyones, which\nhe had held for a great while, and gave him many another earldom\nbesides. This Lot was the father of Gawain, who as yet was a\ndamoiseau, young and debonair.\n\nWhen Arthur had settled his realm in peace, righted all wrongs, and\nrestored the kingdom to its ancient borders, he took to wife a certain\nfresh and noble maiden, named Guenevere, making her his queen. This\ndamsel was passing fair of face and courteous, very gracious of\nmanner, and come of a noble Roman house. Cador had nourished this lady\nlong and richly in his earldom of Cornwall. The maiden was the\nearl's near cousin, for by his mother he, too, was of Roman blood.\nMarvellously dainty was the maiden in person and vesture; right\nqueenly of bearing, passing sweet and ready of tongue. Arthur\ncherished her dearly, for his love was wonderfully set upon the\ndamsel, yet never had they a child together, nor betwixt them might\nget an heir.\n\nAs soon as winter was gone, and the warm days were come when it was\ngood to wend upon the sea, Arthur made ready his ships to cross the\nstraits to Ireland and conquer the land. Arthur made no long tarrying.\nHe brought together the most lusty warriors of his realm, both poor\nand rich, all of the people who were most vigorous and apt in war.\nWith these he passed into Ireland, and sent about the country seeking\nprovand for his host. So the sergeants took seisin of cows and oxen,\nand brought to the camp in droves all that was desirable for meat.\nGuillomer, the king of that realm, heard that Arthur had fastened\nthis quarrel upon him. He hearkened to the cries and the tidings, the\nplaints and the burdens, raised by those villeins whose granges and\nbields were pillaged for the sustenance of his foes. Guillomer went\nforth to give battle to Arthur, but in an ill hour he drew to the\nfield. His men were naked to their adversaries, having neither helmets\nnor coats of leather nor shields. They knew nothing of archery, and\nwere ignorant of catapults and slings. The Britons were mighty bowmen.\nThey shot their shafts thickly amongst their enemies, so that the\nIrish dared not show their bodies, and might find no shelter. The\nIrish could endure the arrows no longer. They fled from the fight,\ntaking refuge where they were able. They hid in woods and thickets, in\ntowns and in houses, seeking refuge from the stour. Right grievous was\ntheir discomfiture. Guillomer, their king, sought shelter within a\nforest, but his fate was upon him, and he might not conceal him from\nhis foes. Arthur searched him out so diligently, following so hotly on\nhis track, that at the last he was taken captive. Guillomer did very\nwisely. He paid fealty and homage to Arthur, and owned that of him he\nheld his heritage. Moreover he put hostages within Arthur's power, for\nsurety that he would render a yearly tribute to the king. When Arthur\nhad subdued Ireland, he went further and came even so far as Iceland.\nHe brought the land in subjection to himself, so that the folk thereof\nowned themselves his men, and granted him the lordship. Now three\nprinces, by name Gonfal, King of the Orkneys, Doldamer, King of\nGothland, and Romarec, King of Finland, heard the rumour of these\ndeeds. They sent spies to Iceland, and learned from their messengers\nthat Arthur was making ready his host to pass the sea, and despoil\nthem of their realms. In all the world--said these messengers--there\nwas no such champion, nor so crafty a captain in the ordering of war.\nThese three kings feared mightily in case Arthur should descend upon\nthem, and waste their land. Lest a worse thing should befall them,\nwith no compulsion and of their own free wills, they set forth for\nIceland and came humbly before the king. They gave of their substance\nrich gifts and offerings, and kneeling before Arthur did him fealty,\nputting their countries between his hands, and proclaiming themselves\nhis men. They owned that of grace they held their inheritance, they\nswore to render tribute to his treasury, and gave hostages for\nassurance of their covenant. So they departed in peace to their own\nplace. For his part Arthur came again to his ships. He returned to\nEngland, where he was welcomed of his people with marvellous joy.\nTwelve years he abode in his realm in peace and content, since none\nwas so bold as to do him a mischief, and he did mischief to none.\nArthur held high state in a very splendid fashion. He ordained the\ncourtesies of courts, and bore himself with so rich and noble a\nbearing, that neither the emperor's court at Rome, nor any other\nbragged of by man, was accounted as aught besides that of the king.\nArthur never heard speak of a knight in praise, but he caused him to\nbe numbered of his household. So that he might he took him to himself,\nfor help in time of need. Because of these noble lords about his hall,\nof whom each knight pained himself to be the hardiest champion, and\nnone would count him the least praiseworthy, Arthur made the Round\nTable, so reputed of the Britons. This Round Table was ordained of\nArthur that when his fair fellowship sat to meat their chairs should\nbe high alike, their service equal, and none before or after his\ncomrade. Thus no man could boast that he was exalted above his fellow,\nfor all alike were gathered round the board, and none was alien at\nthe breaking of Arthur's bread. At this table sat Britons, Frenchmen,\nNormans, Angevins, Flemings, Burgundians, and Loherins. Knights had\ntheir plate who held land of the king, from the furthest marches of\nthe west even unto the Hill of St. Bernard. A most discourteous lord\nwould he be deemed who sojourned not awhile in the king's hall, who\ncame not with the countenance, the harness, and the vesture that were\nthe garb and usage of those who served Arthur about his court. From\nall the lands there voyaged to this court such knights as were in\nquest either of gain or worship. Of these lords some drew near to hear\ntell of Arthur's courtesies; others to marvel at the pride of his\nstate; these to have speech with the knights of his chivalry; and some\nto receive of his largeness costly gifts. For this Arthur in his day\nwas loved right well of the poor, and honoured meetly by the rich.\nOnly the kings of the world bore him malice and envy, since they\ndoubted and feared exceedingly lest he should set his foot upon them\nevery one, and spoil them of their heritage.\n\nI know not if you have heard tell the marvellous gestes and errant\ndeeds related so often of King Arthur. They have been noised about\nthis mighty realm for so great a space that the truth has turned to\nfable and an idle song. Such rhymes are neither sheer bare lies, nor\ngospel truths. They should not be considered either an idiot's tale,\nor given by inspiration. The minstrel has sung his ballad, the\nstoryteller told over his story so frequently, little by little he\nhas decked and painted, till by reason of his embellishment the truth\nstands hid in the trappings of a tale. Thus to make a delectable tune\nto your ear, history goes masking as fable. Hear then how, because of\nhis valour, the counsel of his barons, and in the strength of that\nmighty chivalry he had cherished and made splendid, Arthur purposed to\ncross the sea and conquer the land of France. But first he deemed to\nsail to Norway, since he would make Lot, his sister's lord, its king.\nSichelm, the King of Norway, was newly dead, leaving neither son nor\ndaughter of his body. In the days of his health, as alike when he fell\non death, Sichelm had appointed Lot to succeed him in his realm and\nfief. The crown was Lot's by right, even as Sichelm proclaimed, since\nLot was the king's nephew, and there was no other heir. When the folk\nof Norway learned that Sichelm had bequeathed his realm to Lot, they\nheld his command and ordinance in derision. They would have no alien\nfor their lord, nor suffer a stranger to meddle in their business,\nlest he should deem them an ancient and feeble people, and give to\noutland folk what was due to the dwellers in the realm. The Norwegians\nresolved to make king one of their own house, that he might cherish\nthem and their children, and for this reason they chose from amongst\nthem a certain lord named Ridulph to be their king.\n\nWhen Lot perceived that his right was despised, save that he took his\nheritage by force, he sought help of Arthur, his lord. Arthur agreed\nto aid him in his quarrel, promising to render him his own, and to\navenge him bitterly on Ridulph. Arthur gathered together many ships\nand a mighty host. He entered into Norway with this great company,\nwasting the land, seizing on the manors, and spoiling the towns.\nRidulph was no trembler, and had no thought to leave the country to\nits fate. He assembled his people, and prepared to give battle to the\nking. Since however his carles were not many, and his friends but few,\nRidulph was defeated in the fight and slain. The greater part of his\nfellowship perished with him, so that no large number remained. In\nthis manner Lot the King of Lyones destroyed the Norwegians from the\nland. Having delivered Norway from itself Arthur granted the kingdom\nto Lot, so only that he did Arthur homage as his lord. Amongst the\nbarons who rode in this adventure was Gawain, the hardy and famous\nknight, who had freshly come from St. Sulpicius the Apostle, whose\nsoul may God give rest and glory. The knight wore harness bestowed on\nhim by the Apostle, and wondrously was he praised. This Gawain was a\ncourteous champion, circumspect in word and deed, having no pride nor\nblemish in him. He did more than his boast, and gave more largely\nthan he promised. His father had sent him to Rome, that he might be\nschooled the more meetly. Gawain was dubbed knight in the same day as\nWavain, and counted himself of Arthur's household. Mightily he strove\nto do his devoir in the field, for the fairer service and honour of\nhis lord.\n\nAfter Arthur had conquered Norway, and firmly established his justice\nin the land, he chose of his host those men who were the most valiant\nand ready in battle, and assembled them by the sea. He brought to the\nsame haven many ships and barges, together with such mariners as were\nneedful for his purpose. When a quiet time was come, with a fortunate\nwind, Arthur crossed the sea into Denmark; for the realm was very\ngreatly to his desire. Acil, the Danish king, considered the Britons\nand the folk from Norway. He considered Arthur, who had prevailed\nagainst so many kings. Acil knew and was persuaded that Arthur was\nmightier than he. He had no mind to suffer hurt himself, or to see his\ngoodly heritage spoiled in a useless quarrel. What did it profit to\nwaste wealth and honour alike, to behold slain friends and ruined\ntowers? Acil wrought well and speedily. He sought peace, and ensued\nit. He gave costly gifts, and made promises which were larger still,\ntill by reason of his words, his prayers, and supplications, concord\nwas established between Arthur and the king. Acil paid fealty and\nhomage, he became Arthur's man, and owned that of Arthur's grace he\nheld his fief. King Arthur rejoiced greatly at this adventure, and of\nthe conquest he had made. He desired honour the more greedily because\nof the worship he had gained. From out of Denmark he chose, by\nhundreds and by thousands, the stoutest knights and archers he could\nfind. These he joined to his host, purposing to lead this fair company\ninto France. Without any long tarrying the king acted on his purpose.\nTowns, cities, and castles fell before him, so that Flanders and\nthe country about Boulogne were speedily in his power. Arthur was a\nprudent captain. He perceived no profit in wasting his own realm,\nburning his towns, and stealing from his very purse. His eyes were in\nevery place, and much was forbidden by his commandment. No soldier\nmight rob nor pill. If there was need of raiment, meat, or provand,\nthen must he buy with good minted coin in the market. Nothing he dared\nto destroy or steal.\n\nNow in Arthur's day the land of France was known as Gaul. The realm\nhad neither king nor master, for the Romans held it strongly as a\nprovince. This province was committed to the charge of Frollo, and the\ntribune had governed the country for a great space. He took rent and\ntribute of the people, and in due season caused the treasure to be\ndelivered to the emperor at Rome. Thus had it been since the time of\nCaesar, that mighty emperor, who brought into subjection France and\nGermany, and all the land of Britain. Frollo was a very worthy lord,\ncome of a noble Roman race, fearful of none, however hardy. He knew\nwell, by divers letters, the loss and the mischief done by Arthur and\nhis host. Frollo had no mind tamely to watch the Romans lose their\nheritage. The tribune summoned to his aid all the men abiding in the\nprovince who carried arms and owned fealty to Rome. He assembled these\ntogether, ordaining a great company, clad in harness and plenteously\nsupplied with stores. With these he went out to battle against Arthur,\nbut he prospered less than his merit deserved. The Roman tribune was\ndiscomfited so grievously that he sought safety in flight. Of his\nfellowship he had lost a great number. Many were slain outright in\nbattle, others were sorely wounded, or made captive, or returned\nsorrowing to their own homes. Out of the meinie Frollo had gathered\nfrom so many cities, more than two thousand were destroyed. This was\nno great marvel, since the count of Arthur's host was more than Frollo\nmight endure. From every land he had subdued to himself, from every\ncity that was taken, Arthur saw to it that not a spearman nor knight\nof fitting years and strength of body, but was numbered in the host,\nand commanded to serve Arthur as his lord Of these outland folk,\nArthur chose a fair company of the hardiest knights and most proven\nchampions to be of his private household. The very French began to\nregard him as their king, so only that they had the courage of their\nminds. This man loved him for his wise and comely speech this by\nreason of his liberal hand: this because of his noble and upright\nspirit Whether men were driven to his presence by fear, or considered\nhim a refuge in the storm, all found cause enough to seek his court,\nto make their peace, and to acknowledge him as their suzerain. Now\nFrollo, after his discomfiture by the king, fled to Paris with all\nthe speed he might, making no stop upon the road. The tribune feared\nArthur and his power very sorely, and since he sought a fortress to\ndefend his person, he would not trust his fortune to any other city.\nHe resolved, therefore, to await Arthur within Paris, and to fight the\nking beneath the walls Frollo called to himself such legions as were\nyet in towns near by. Because of the number of the fugitives who were\ncome to that place, together with the burgesses abiding therein, a\ngreat concourse of people filled the city. All these folk toiled\ndiligently to furnish the city with corn and meat, and to make sure\nthe walls and gates against their foes.\n\nArthur learned that Frollo was making strong his towers, and filling\nthe barns with victuals. He drew to Paris, and sat down without the\ncity. He lodged his men in the suburbs beyond the walls, holding the\ntown so close that food might not enter whether by the river or the\ngates. Arthur shut the city fast for more than a month, since the\nFrench defended them well and manfully. A mighty multitude was crowded\nwithin the walls, and there was a plentiful lack of meat. All the\nprovand bought and gathered together in so short a space was quickly\neaten and consumed, and the folk were afterwards a-hungered. There was\nlittle flesh, but many bellies; so that the women and children made\nmuch sorrow Had the counsel of the poor been taken, right soon would\nthe keys of the city have been rendered. \"Diva,\" clamoured the\nfamished citizens, \"what doest thou, Frollo? Why requirest thou not\npeace at Arthur's hand?\" Frollo regarded the common people who failed\nfor famine. He looked upon the folk dying by reason of their hunger,\nand knew that they would have him yield the city. Frollo perceived\nthat of a surety the end of all was come. The tribune chose to put\nhis own body in peril--yea, rather to taste of death, than to abandon\nParis to her leaguers. Frollo had full assurance of Arthur's rectitude\nIn the simplicity of his heart he sent urgent messages to the king,\npraying him to enter in the Island, that body to body they might bring\ntheir quarrel to an end. He who prevailed over his fellow, and came\nliving from the battle, should take the whole realm as his own and\nreceive all France for his guerdon. Thus the land would not perish,\nnor the folk be utterly destroyed. Arthur hearkened willingly to the\nheralds, for very greatly was their message to his mind. He accorded\nthat the battle should be between the two captains, even as Frollo\ndesired. Gauntlets were taken from one and the other, and hostages\ngiven on behalf of Paris and on the part of the besiegers for better\nassurance of the covenant that was made.\n\nOn the morrow the two champions arrayed them in harness, and coming to\nthe Island, entered boldly in the lists. The banks were filled with a\nmighty concourse of people, making great tumult. Not a man or woman\nremained that day in his chamber. They climbed upon the walls, and\nthronged the roofs of the houses, crying upon God, and adjuring Him\nby His holy Name to give victory to him who would guard the realm in\npeace, and preserve the poor from war Arthur's meinie, for their part,\nawaited the judgment of God, in praying the King of Glory to bestow\nthe prize and honour on their lord. The two champions were set over\nagainst the other, laced each in his mail, and seated on his warhorse.\nThe strong destriers were held with bit and bridle, so eager were they\nfor the battle. The riders bestrode the steeds with lifted shields,\nbrandishing great lances in their hands. It was no easy matter to\nperceive--however curiously men looked--which was the stouter knight,\nor to judge who would be victor in the joust. Certainly each was a\nvery worthy lord and a right courageous champion. When all was made\nready the knights struck spurs to their steeds, and loosing the rein\nupon the horses' necks, hurtled together with raised buckler and lance\nin rest. They smote together with marvellous fierceness. Whether by\nreason of the swerving of his destrier, I cannot tell, but Frollo\nfailed of his stroke Arthur, on his side, smote the boss of his\nadversary's shield so fairly, that he bore him over his horse's\nbuttock, as long as the ash staff held Arthur drew forth his sword,\nand hastened to Frollo to bring the battle to an end. Frollo climbed\nstoutly on his feet. He held his lance before him like a rod, and the\nking's steed ran upon the spear, so that it pierced deeply in his\nbody. Of this thrust the destrier and his rider alike came tumbling to\nthe ground. When the Britons saw this thing, they might not contain\nthemselves for grief. They cried aloud, and seizing their weapons, for\na little would have violated the love-day. They made ready to cross\nthe river to the Island, and to avenge their lord upon the Gauls.\nArthur cried loudly to his Britons to observe their covenant,\ncommanding that not a man should move to his help that day. He gripped\nExcalibur sternly in his hand, resolving that Frollo should pay\ndearly for his triumph. Arthur dressed his shield above his head, and\nhandselling his sword, rushed upon Frollo. Frollo was a passing good\nknight, hardy and strong, in no whit dismayed by the anger of his\nadversary. He raised his own glaive on high, striking fiercely at\nArthur's brow. Frollo was strong beyond the strength of man. His brand\nwas great and sharp, and the buffet was struck with all his power. The\nblade sheared through helm and coif alike, so that King Arthur was\nwounded in his forehead, and the blood ran down his face.\n\nWhen Arthur felt the dolour of his hurt, and looked upon his blood, he\ndesired nothing, save to wreak evil on the man who had wrought this\nmischief. He pressed the more closely upon Frollo. Lifting Excalibur,\nhis good sword, in both hands, he smote so lustily that Frollo's head\nwas cloven down to his very shoulders. No helmet nor hauberk, whatever\nthe armourer's craft, could have given surety from so mighty a blow.\nBlood and brains gushed from the wound. Frollo fell upon the ground,\nand beating the earth a little with his chausses of steel, presently\ndied, and was still.\n\nWhen men saw this bitter stroke the burgesses and sergeants raised a\nloud cry. Arthur's household rejoiced beyond measure; but those of\nthe city wept, making great sorrow for Frollo, their champion.\nNevertheless, the citizens of Paris ran to their gates. They set the\ndoors wide, and welcomed Arthur, his meinie, and company within their\nwalls. When Arthur perceived the French were desirous to offer him\ntheir fealty, he suffered them so to do, taking hostages that they\nwould abide in peace. He lodged within the city certain days, and\nappointed governors, for the assurance of his power. After quiet was\nestablished, Arthur divided the host into two parts. The one of these\ncompanies he delivered into the charge of Hoel, the king's nephew.\nWith the other half he devised to conquer Anjou, Auvergne, Gascony,\nand Poitou; yea, to overrun Lorraine and Burgundy, if the task did\nnot prove beyond his power. Hoel did his lord's commandment, even as\nArthur purposed. He conquered Berri, and afterwards Touraine, Auvergne,\nPoitou, and Gascony. Guitard, the King of Poitiers, was a valiant\ncaptain, having good knights in his service. To uphold his realm and\nhis rights Guitard fought many a hard battle. The luck went this way\nand that. Sometimes he was the hunter, sometimes the quarry: often he\nprevailed, and often, again, he lost. At the end Guitard was persuaded\nArthur was the stronger lord, and that only by submission could he\nkeep his own. The land was utterly wasted and ravaged. Beyond the\nwalls of town and castle there was nothing left to destroy; and of all\nthe fair vineyards not a vine but was rooted from the ground. Guitard\nmade overtures of peace, and accorded himself with Hoel. He swore\nArthur fealty and homage, so that the king came to love him very\ndearly. The other parcels of France Arthur conquered them every one by\nhis own power. When there was peace over all the country, so that none\ndared lift a spear against the king, Arthur sought such men as were\ngrown old in his quarrels, and desired greatly to return to their\nhomes. To these feeble sergeants Arthur rendered their wages and\ngifts, and sent them rejoicing from whence they had come. The knights\nof his household, and such lusty youths as were desirous of honour,\nhaving neither dame nor children to their hearths, Arthur held in his\nservice for yet nine years. During these nine years that Arthur abode\nin France, he wrought divers great wonders, reproving many haughty\nmen and their tyrannies, and chastising many sinners after their\ndeservings. Now it befell that when Easter was come, Arthur held high\nfeast at Paris with his friends. On that day the king recompensed his\nservants for their losses, and gave to each after his deserts. He\nbestowed guerdon meetly on all, according to his zeal and the labour\nhe had done. To Kay, the master seneschal of his house, a loyal and\nchivalrous knight, the king granted all Anjou and Angers. Bedevere,\nthe king's cupbearer and very privy counsellor, received that fief of\nNormandy, which aforetime was called Neustria. These lords, Kay and\nBedevere, were Arthur's faithful friends, knowing the inmost counsel\nof his mind. Boulogne was given to Holden: Le Mans to Borel, his\ncousin. On each and all, according to his gentleness of heart and\ndiligence in his lord's service, Arthur bestowed honours and fees, and\ngranted largely of his lands.\n\nAfter Arthur thus had feoffed his lords, and given riches to his\nfriends, in April, when winter was gone, he passed the sea to England,\nhis own realm. Marvellous joy was shown of all good folk at the return\nof the king. Dames held those husbands close from whom they had been\nparted so long. Mothers kissed their sons, with happy tears upon their\ncheeks. Sons and daughters embraced their fathers. Cousin clipped\ncousin, and neighbour that friend who once was his companion. The\naunt made much of her sister's son. Ladies kissed long that lover who\nreturned from France, yea, when the place was meet, clasped him yet\nmore sweetly in their arms. Wondrous was the joy shown of all. In\nthe lanes and crossways, in the highways and by-ways, you might see\nfriends a many staying friend, to know how it fared with him, how\nthe land was settled when it was won, what adventures chanced to the\nseeker, what profit clave to him thereof, and why he remained so great\na while beyond the sea. Then the soldier fought his battles once\nagain. He told over his adventures, he spoke of his hard and weary\ncombats, of the toils he had endured, and the perils from which he was\ndelivered.\n\nArthur cherished tenderly his servants, granting largely, and\npromising richly, to the worthy. He took counsel with his barons, and\ndevised that for the louder proclamation of his fame and wealth, he\nwould hold a solemn feast at Pentecost, when summer was come, and that\nthen in the presence of his earls and baronage he would be crowned\nking. Arthur commanded all his lords on their allegiance to meet him\nat Caerleon in Glamorgan. He desired to be crowned king in Caerleon,\nbecause it was rich beyond other cities, and marvellously pleasant and\nfair. Pilgrims told in those days that the mansions of Caerleon were\nmore desirable than the palaces of Rome. This rich city, Caerleon, was\nbuilded on the Usk, a river which falls within the Severn. He who came\nto the city from a strange land, might seek his haven by this fair\nwater. On one side of the town flowed this clear river; whilst on the\nother spread a thick forest. Fish were very plentiful in the river,\nand of venison the burgesses had no lack. Passing fair and deep were\nthe meadows about the city, so that the barns and granges were very\nrich. Within the walls rose two mighty churches, greatly praised. One\nof these famed churches was called in remembrance of Saint Julius the\nMartyr, and held a convent of holy nuns for the fairer service of God.\nThe second church was dedicate to Saint Aaron, his companion. The\nbishop had his seat therein. Moreover, this church was furnished with\nmany wealthy clergy and canons of seemly life. These clerks were\nstudents of astronomy, concerning themselves diligently with the\ncourses of the stars. Often enough they prophesied to Arthur what the\nfuture would bring forth, and of the deeds that he would do. So goodly\nwas the city, there was none more delectable in all the earth. Now by\nreason of the lofty palaces, the fair woods and pastures, the ease and\ncontent, and all the delights of which you have heard, Arthur desired\nto hold his court at Caerleon, and to bid his barons to attend him\nevery one. He commanded, therefore, to the feast, kings and earls,\ndukes and viscounts, knights and barons, bishops and abbots. Nor did\nArthur bid Englishmen alone, but Frenchman and Burgundian, Auvergnat\nand Gascon, Norman and Poitivin, Angevin and Fleming, together with\nhim of Brabant, Hainault, and Lorraine, the king bade to his dinner.\nFrisian and Teuton, Dane and Norwegian, Scot, Irish, and Icelander,\nhim of Cathness and of Gothland, the lords of Galway and of the\nfurthest islands of the Hebrides, Arthur summoned them all. When these\nreceived the king's messages commanding them to his crowning, they\nhastened to observe the feast as they were bidden, every one. From\nScotland came Aguisel the king, richly vested in his royal robes;\nthere, too, was Unan, King of Murief, together with his son Yvam the\ncourteous; Lot of Lyones also, to take a brave part in the revels,\nand with him that very frank and gentle knight Gawain, his son. There\nbesides were Stater and Cadual, kings of South Wales and of North,\nCador of Cornwall, right near to Arthur's heart; Morud, Earl of\nGloucester; and Guerdon, Earl of Winchester. Anavalt came from\nSalisbury, and Rimarec from Canterbury. Earl Baldulph drew from\nSilchester, and Vigenin from Leicester. There, too, was Algal of\nGuivic, a baron much held in honour by the court. Other lords were\nthere a many, in no wise of less reputation than their fellows. The\nson of Po that was hight Donander; Regian, son of Abauder; Ceilus the\nson of Coil, that son of Chater named Chatellus, Griffin, the heir of\nNagroil, Ron, the son of Neco; Margoil, Clefaut, Ringar, Angan, Rimar\nand Gorbonian, Kinlint, Neco and that Peredur, whom men deemed to be\ngotten by Eladur. Besides these princes there drew to Caerleon such\nknights as were of the king's house, and served him about his court.\nThese were his chosen friends, who had their seats at the King's Round\nTable, but more of them I cannot tell. Many other lords were there of\nonly less wealth and worship than those I have named. So numerous was\nthis fair company that I have lost count of their numbers. A noble\narray of prelates came also to Arthur's solemn feast. Abbots and\nmitred bishops walked in their order and degree. The three archbishops\nof the realm came in his honour, namely, the Archbishop of London, his\nbrother of York, and holy Dubricius, whose chair was in that self same\ncity. Very holy of life was this fair prelate. Very abundantly he\nlaboured, being Archbishop of Caerleon and Legate of Rome. Many\nwonderful works were wrought by his hands. The sick were brought to\nhim gladly, and by reason of his love and his prayers, oftentimes\nthey were healed of their hurt. In olden days this Dubricius abode in\nLondon, but now was Bishop in Wales, by reason of the evil times when\nkings regarded not God, and the people forsook the churches of their\nfathers. These clergy assembled at Arthur's court, for the king's\nfeast, together with so great a fellowship of barons that I know not\neven to rehearse you their names.\n\nYet these must be remembered, whomsoever I forget. Villamus, King of\nIreland, and Mahnus, King of Iceland, and Doldamer, lord of that lean\nand meagre country, known as the land of Goths. Acil, the King of the\nDanes; Lot, who was King of Norway, and Gonfal, jarl of the lawless\nOrkneys, from whence sail the pirates in their ships. From the parts\nbeyond the seas came Ligier, holding the dukedom and honour of\nBurgundy; Holden, Earl of Flanders; and Guerin, Earl of Chartres,\nhaving the twelve peers of France in his company, for the richer\ndignity and splendour of his state. Guitard was there, the Earl of\nPoitiers; Kay, whom the king had created Earl of Angers; and Bedevere\nof Neustria, that province which men now call Normandy. From Le Mans\ndrew Earl Borel, and from Brittany Earl Hoel. Passing noble of visage\nwas Hoel, and all those lords who came forth from France. They voyaged\nto Arthur's court in chased harness and silken raiment, riding on\nlusty horses with rich trappings, and wearing jewels, with many golden\nornaments. There was not a prince from here even unto Spain, yea, to\nthe very Rhine in the land of Germany, but hastened to Arthur's solemn\nfeast, so only that he was bidden to that crowning. Of these some came\nto look on the face of the king, some to receive of his largeness\ncostly gifts, some to have speech with the lords of his council. Some\ndesired to marvel over the abundance of Arthur's wealth, and others to\nhear tell of the great king's courtesies. This lord was drawn by the\ncords of love; this by compulsion of his suzerain's ban, this to learn\nby the witness of his eyes whether Arthur's power and prosperity\nexceeded that fame of which the whole world bragged.\n\nWhen this proud company of kings, bishops, and princes was gathered\ntogether to observe Arthur's feast, the whole city was moved. The\nking's servants tolled diligently making ready for so great a\nconcourse of guests. Soldiers ran to and fro, busily seeking hostels\nfor this fair assemblage. Houses were swept and garnished, spread with\nreeds, and furnished with hangings of rich arras. Halls and chambers\nwere granted to their needs, together with stables for the horses and\ntheir provand. Those for whom hostelries might not be found abode in\nseemly lodgings, decently appointed to their degree. The city was full\nof stir and tumult. In every place you beheld squires leading horses\nand destriers by the bridle, setting saddles on hackneys and taking\nthem off, buckling the harness and making the metal work shining and\nbright. Grooms went about their business. Never was such a cleansing\nof stables, such taking of horses to the meadows, such a currying and\ncombing, shoeing and loosing of girths, washing and watering, such a\nbearing of straw and of grass for the litter, and oats for the manger.\nNor these alone, but in the courtyards and chambers of the hostels you\nmight see the pages and chamberlains go swiftly about their tasks, in\ndivers fashions. The varlets brushed and folded the habiliments and\nmantles of their lords. They looked to the stuff and the fastenings of\ntheir garments. You saw them hurry through the halls carrying furs and\nfurred raiment, both vair and the grey. Caerleon seemed rather a fair\nthan a city, at Arthur's feast.\n\nNow telleth the chronicle of this geste, that when the morning was\ncome of the day of the high feast, a fair procession of archbishops,\nbishops, and abbots wended to the king's palace, to place the crown\nupon Arthur's head, and lead him within the church. Two of these\narchbishops brought him through the streets of the city, one walking\non either side of his person. Each bishop sustained the king by his\narm, and thus he was earned to his throne. Four kings went before\nArthur and the clerks, bearing swords in their hands. Pommel,\nscabbard, and hilt of these four swords were of wrought gold. This was\nthe office of these kings when Arthur held state at his court. The\nfirst of the princes was from Scotland, the second from South Wales,\nthe third was of North Wales, and as to the last it was Cador of\nCornwall who earned the fourth sword. All these fair princes were\nat one in their purpose, being altogether at unity, when Arthur was\ncrowned king. To holy Dubricius it fell, as prelate of Caerleon and\nRoman legate, to celebrate the office and perform such rites as were\nseemly to be rendered in the church.\n\nThat the queen might not be overshadowed by her husband's state, the\ncrown was set on her head in another fashion. For her part she had\nbidden to her court the great ladies of the country, and such dames as\nwere the wives of her friends. Together with these had assembled the\nladies of her kindred, such ladies as were most to her mind, and many\nfair and gentle maidens whom she desired to be about her person at the\nfeast. The presence of this gay company of ladies made the feast yet\nmore rich, when the queen was crowned in her chamber, and brought to\nthat convent of holy nuns for the conclusion of the rite. The press\nwas so great that the queen might hardly make her way through the\nstreets of the city. Four dames preceded their lady, bearing four\nwhite doves in their hands. These dames were the wives of those lords\nwho carried the golden swords before the king. A fair company of\ndamsels followed after the queen, making marvellous joy and delight.\nThis fair fellowship of ladies came from the noblest of the realm.\nPassing dainty were they to see, wearing rich mantles above their\nsilken raiment. All men gazed gladly upon them, for their beauty was\nsuch that none was sweeter than her fellows. These dames and maidens\nwent clothed in their softest garments. Their heads were tired in\ntheir fairest hennins, and they walked in their most holiday vesture.\nNever were seen so many rich kirtles of divers colours, such costly\nmantles, such precious jewels and rings. Never were seen such furs and\nsuch ornaments, both the vair and the grey. Never was known so gay and\nnoble a procession of ladies, as this which hastened to the church,\nlest it should be hindered from the rite.\n\nNow within the church Mass was commenced with due pomp and observance.\nThe noise of the organ filled the church, and the clerks sang tunably\nin the choir. Their voices swelled or failed, according as the chant\nmounted to the roof, or died away in supplication. The knights passed\nfrom one church to the other. Now they would be at the convent of St.\nJulius, and again at the cathedral church of St. Aaron. This they did\nto compare the singing of the clerks, and to delight their eyes with\nthe loveliness of the damsels. Although the knights passed frequently\nbetween the churches, yet no man could answer for certain at which\nthey remained the longer. They could not surfeit the heart by reason\nof the sweetness of the melody. Yea, had the song endured the whole\nday through, I doubt those knights would ever have grown weary or\ncontent.\n\nWhen the office drew to its appointed end, and the last words were\nchanted, the king put off his crown that he had carried to the church.\nHe took another crown which sat more lightly on his head; and in such\nfashion did the queen. They laid aside their heavy robes and ornaments\nof state, and vested them in less tiring raiment. The king parted from\nSt. Aaron's church, and returned to his palace for meat. The queen,\nfor her part, came again to her own house, carrying with her that fair\nfellowship of ladies, yet making marvellous joy. For the Britons held\nstill to the custom brought by their sires from Troy, that when the\nfeast was spread, man ate with man alone, bringing no lady with him\nto the board. The ladies and damsels ate apart. No men were in their\nhall, save only the servitors, who served them with every observance,\nfor the feast was passing rich, as became a monarch's court. When\nArthur was seated in his chair upon the dais, the lords and princes\nsat around the board, according to the usage of the country, each in\nhis order and degree. The king's seneschal, hight Sir Kay, served\nArthur's table, clad in a fair dalmatic of vermeil silk. With Sir Kay\nwere a thousand damoiseaux, clothed in ermine, who bore the dishes\nfrom the buttery. These pages moved briskly about the tables, carrying\nthe meats in platters to the guests. Together with these were yet\nanother thousand damoiseaux, gentle and goodly to see, clothed\nlikewise in coats of ermine. These fair varlets poured the wine from\ngolden beakers into cups and hanaps of fine gold. Not one of these\npages but served in a vesture of ermine. Bedevere, the king's\ncupbearer, himself set Arthur's cup upon the board; and those called\nhim master who saw that Arthur's servants lacked not drink.\n\nThe queen had so many servitors at her bidding, that I may not tell\nyou the count. She and all her company of ladies were waited on,\nrichly and reverently. Right worshipfully were they tended. These\nladies had to their table many rich meats, and wines and spiced drink\nof divers curious fashions. The dishes and vessels from which they ate\nwere very precious, and passing fair. I know not how to put before you\nthe wealth and the splendour of Arthur's feast. Whether for goodly men\nor for chivalrous deeds, for wealth as for plenty, for courtesy as for\nhonour, in Arthur's day England bore the flower from all the lands\nnear by, yea, from every other realm whereof we know. The poorest\npeasant in his smock was a more courteous and valiant gentleman than\nwas a belted knight beyond the sea. And as with the men, so, and no\notherwise, was it with the women. There was never a knight whose\npraise was bruited abroad, but went in harness and raiment and plume\nof one and the self-same hue. The colour of surcoat and armour in\nthe field was the colour of the gown he wore in hall. The dames and\ndamsels would apparel them likewise in cloth of their own colour. No\nmatter what the birth and riches of a knight might be, never, in all\nhis days, could he gain fair lady to his friend, till he had proved\nhis chivalry and worth. That knight was accounted the most nobly born\nwho bore himself the foremost in the press. Such a knight was indeed\ncherished of the ladies; for his friend was the more chaste as he was\nbrave.\n\nAfter the king had risen from the feast, he and his fellowship went\nwithout the city to take their delight amongst the fields. The lords\nsought their pleasure in divers places. Some amongst them jousted\ntogether, that their horses might be proven. Others fenced with the\nsword, or cast the stone, or flung pebbles from a sling. There were\nthose who shot with the bow, like cunning archers, or threw darts at\na mark. Every man strove with his fellow, according to the game he\nloved. That knight who proved the victor in his sport, and bore the\nprize from his companions, was carried before the king in the sight of\nall the princes. Arthur gave him of his wealth so goodly a gift, that\nhe departed from the king's presence in great mirth and content. The\nladies of the court climbed upon the walls, looking down on the games\nvery gladly. She, whose friend was beneath her in the field, gave\nhim the glance of her eye and her face; so that he strove the more\nearnestly for her favour. Now to the court had gathered many tumblers,\nharpers, and makers of music, for Arthur's feast. He who would hear\nsongs sung to the music of the rote, or would solace himself with the\nnewest refrain of the minstrel, might win to his wish. Here stood\nthe viol player, chanting ballads and lays to their appointed tunes.\nEverywhere might be heard the voice of viols and harp and flutes.\nIn every place rose the sound of lyre and drum and shepherd's pipe,\nbagpipe, psaltery, cymbals, monochord, and all manner of music. Here\nthe tumbler tumbled on his carpet. There the mime and the dancing girl\nput forth their feats. Of Arthur's guests some hearkened to the teller\nof tales and fables. Others called for dice and tables, and played\ngames of chance for a wager. Evil befalls to winner and loser alike\nfrom such sport as this. For the most part men played at chess or\ndraughts. You might see them, two by two, bending over the board. When\none player was beaten by his fellow, he borrowed moneys to pay his\nwager, giving pledges for the repayment of his debt. Dearly enough he\npaid for his loan, getting but eleven to the dozen. But the pledge was\noffered and taken, the money rendered, and the game continued with\nmuch swearing and cheating, much drinking and quarrelling, with strife\nand with anger. Often enough the loser was discontented, and rose\nmurmuring against his fellow. Two by two the dicers sat at table,\ncasting the dice. They threw in turn, each throwing higher than his\nfellow. You might hear them count, six, five, three, four, two, and\none. They staked their raiment on the cast, so there were those who\nthrew half naked. Fair hope had he who held the dice, after his fellow\nhad cried his number. Then the quarrel rose suddenly from the silence.\nOne called across the table to his companion, \"You cheat, and throw\nnot fairly. Grasp not the dice so tightly in your hand, but shake them\nforth upon the board. My count is yet before yours. If you still have\npennies in your pouch bring them out, for I will meet you to your\nwish.\" Thus the dicers wrangled, and to many of Arthur's guests it\nchanced that he who sat to the board in furs, departed from the tables\nclothed in his skin.\n\nWhen the fourth day of the week was come, on a certain Wednesday, the\nking made knights of his bachelors, granting them rents to support\ntheir stations. He recompensed those lords of his household who held\nof him their lands at suit and service. Such clerks as were diligent\nin their Master's business he made abbots and bishops; and bestowed\ncastles and towns on his counsellors and friends. To those stranger\nknights who for his love had crossed the sea in his quarrel, the king\ngave armour and destrier and golden ornaments, to their desire. Arthur\ndivided amongst them freely of his wealth. He granted lordship and\ndelights, greyhound and brachet, furred gown and raiment, beaker\nand hanap, sendal and signet, bhaut and mantle, lance and sword and\nquivers of sharp barbed arrows. He bestowed harness and buckler and\nweapons featly fashioned by the smith. He gave largesse of bears\nand of leopards, of palfreys and hackneys, of chargers with saddles\nthereon. He gave the helm as the hauberk, the gold as the silver, yea,\nhe bestowed on his servants the very richest and most precious of his\ntreasure. Never a man of these outland knights, so only he was worthy\nof Arthur's bounty, but the king granted him such gifts as he might\nbrag of in his own realm. And as with the foreign lords, so to the\nkings and the princes, the knights, and all his barons, Arthur gave\nlargely many precious gifts.\n\nNow as King Arthur was seated on a dais with these princes and earls\nbefore him, there entered in his hall twelve ancient men, white and\ngreyheaded, full richly arrayed in seemly raiment. These came within\nthe palace two by two. With the one hand each clasped his companion,\nand in the other carried a fair branch of olive. The twelve elders\npassed at a slow pace down the hall, bearing themselves right\nworshipfully. They drew near to Arthur's throne, and saluted the king\nvery courteously. They were citizens of Rome, said the spokesman of\nthese aged men, and were ambassadors from the emperor, bringing with\nthem letters to the king. Having spoken such words, one amongst them\nmade ready his parchment, and delivered it in Arthur's hands. This was\nthe sum of the writing sent by the Emperor of Rome.\n\n\"Lucius, the Emperor and lord of Rome, to King Arthur, his enemy,\nthese, according to his deservings. I marvel very greatly, and disdain\nwhilst yet I marvel, the pride and ill-will which have puffed you up\nto seek to do me evil. I have nothing but contempt and wonder for\nthose who counsel you to resist the word of Rome, whilst yet one Roman\ndraws his breath. You have acted lightly, and by reason of vanity have\nwrought mischief to us who are the front and avengers of the world.\nYou resemble a blind man, whose eyes the leech prepares to open. You\nknow not yet, but very soon you will have learned, the presumption of\nhim who teaches law to the justice of Rome. It is not enough to say\nthat you have acted after your kind, and sinned according to your\nnature. Know you not whom you are, and from what dust you have come,\nthat you dare to dispute the tribute to Rome! Why do you steal our\nland and our truage? Why do you refuse to render Caesar that which is\nhis own? Are you indeed so strong that we may not take our riches\nfrom your hand? Perchance you would show us a marvellous matter.\nBehold--you say--the lion fleeing from the lamb, the wolf trembling\nbefore the kid, and the leopard fearful of the hare. Be not deceived.\nNature will not suffer such miracles to happen. Julius Caesar, our\nmighty ancestor--whom, maybe, you despise in your heart--conquered the\nland of Britain, taking tribute thereof, and this you have paid until\nnow. From other islands also, neighbours of this, it was our custom to\nreceive truage. These in your presumption you have taken by force, to\nyour own most grievous hurt. Moreover, you have been so bold as to put\nyet greater shame and damage upon us, since Frollo, our tribune, is\nslain, and France and Britain, by fraud, you keep wrongfully in your\npower. Since, then, you have not feared Rome, neither regarded her\nhonour, the senate summon you by these letters, and command you under\npain of their displeasure, to appear before them at mid August,\nwithout fail or excuse. Come prepared to make restitution of that you\nhave taken, whatever the cost; and to give satisfaction for all those\nthings whereof you are accused. If so be you think to keep silence,\nand do naught of that you are bidden, I will cross the Mont St.\nBernard with a mighty host, and pluck Britain and France from your\nhand. Do not deem that you can make head against me, neither hold\nFrance in my despite. Never will you dare to pass that sea, for my\ndearer pleasure; yea, were your courage indeed so great, yet never\nmight you abide my coming. Be persuaded that in what place soever you\nawait me, from thence I will make you skip. For this is my purpose, to\nbind you with bonds, and bring you to Rome, and deliver you, bound, to\nthe judgment of the senate.\"\n\nWhen this letter was read in the hearing of those who were come to\nArthur's solemnity, a great tumult arose, for they were angered beyond\nmeasure. Many of the Britons took God to witness that they would do\nsuch things and more also to those ambassadors who had dared deliver\nthe message. They pressed about those twelve ancient men, with many\nwild and mocking words. Arthur rose hastily to his feet, bidding the\nbrawlers to keep silence. He cried that none should do the Romans a\nmischief, for they were an embassy, and carried the letters of their\nlord. Since they were but another's mouthpiece, he commanded that none\nshould work them harm. After the noise was at an end, and Arthur was\nassured that the elders were no longer in peril, he called his privy\ncouncil and the lords of his household together, in a certain stone\nkeep, that was named the Giant's Tower. The king would be advised by\nhis barons--so ran the summons--what answer he should give to the\nmessengers of Rome. Now as they mounted the stairs, earl and prince,\npell mell, together, Cador, who was a merry man, saw the king before\nhim. \"Fair king,\" said the earl gaily, \"for a great while the thought\nhas disturbed me, that peace and soft living are rotting away the\nBritish bone. Idleness is the stepdame of virtue, as our preachers\nhave often told us. Soft living makes a sluggard of the hardiest\nknight, and steals away his strength. She cradles him with dreams of\nwoman, and is the mother of chambering and wantonness. Folded hands\nand idleness cause our young damoiseaux to waste their days over merry\ntales, and dice, raiment to catch a lady's fancy and things that are\nworse. Rest and assurance of safety will in the end do Britain more\nharm than force or guile. May the Lord God be praised Who has jogged\nour elbow. To my mind He has persuaded these Romans to challenge our\ncountry that we may get us from sleep. If the Romans trust so greatly\nin their might that they do according to their letters, be assured the\nBriton has not yet lost his birthright of courage and hardness. I am\na soldier, and have never loved a peace that lasts over long, since\nthere are uglier things than war.\" Gawain overheard these words. \"Lord\nearl,\" said he, \"by my faith be not fearful because of the young men.\nPeace is very grateful after war. The grass grows greener, and the\nharvest is more plenteous. Merry tales, and songs, and ladies' love\nare delectable to youth. By reason of the bright eyes and the worship\nof his friend, the bachelor becomes knight and learns chivalry.\"\n\nWhilst the lords jested amongst themselves in this fashion, they\nclimbed the tower, and were seated in the chamber. When Arthur marked\nthat each was in his place, silent and attentive to the business, he\nconsidered for a little that he had to speak. Presently he lifted his\nhead, and spoke such words as these. \"Lords,\" said the king, \"who are\nhere with me, nay, rather my companions and my friends, companions\nalike, whether the day be good or evil, by whose sustenance alone I\nhave endured such divers quarrels, hearken well to me. In the days\nthat are told, have we not shared victory and defeat together,\npartners, you with me, as I with you, in gain and in loss? Through\nyou, and by reason of your help in time of trouble, have I won many\nbattles. You have I carried over land and sea, far and near, to many\nstrange realms. Ever have I found you loyal and true, in business\nand counsel. Because of your prowess I hold the heritage of divers\nneighbouring princes in subjection. Lords, you have hearkened to the\nletters carried by the ambassadors of Rome, and to the malice they\nthreaten if we do not after their commandment. Very despiteful are\nthey against us, and purpose to work us bitter mischief. But if God be\ngracious to His people, we shall yet be delivered from their hand. Now\nthese Romans are a strong nation, passing rich and of great power. It\nbecomes us therefore to consider prudently what we shall say and do in\nanswer to their message, looking always to the end. He who is assured\nof his mark gets there by the shortest road. When the arrows start to\nfly, the sergeant takes shelter behind his shield. Let us be cautious\nand careful like these. This Lucius seeks to do us a mischief. He is\nin his right, and it is ours to take such counsel, that his mischief\nfalls on his own head. To-day he demands tribute from Britain and\nother islands of the sea. To-morrow he purposes in his thought to\nreceive truage of France. Consider first the case of Britain, and how\nto answer wisely therein. Britain was conquered by Caesar of force.\nThe Britons knew not how to keep them against his host, and perforce\npaid him their tribute. But force is no right. It is but pride puffed\nup and swollen beyond measure. They cannot hold of law what they have\nseized by violence and wrong. The land is ours by right, even if the\nRoman took it to himself by force. The Romans really reproach us for\nthe shame and the damage, the loss and the sorrow Caesar visited upon\nour fathers. They boast that they will avenge such losses as these, by\ntaking the land with the rent, and making their little finger thicker\nthan their father's loins. Let them beware. Hatred breeds hatred\nagain, and things despiteful are done to those who despitefully use\nyou. They come with threats, demanding truage, and reproving us for\nthe evil we have done them. Tribute they claim by the right of the\nstrong, leaving sorrow and shame as our portion. But if the Romans\nclaim to receive tribute of Britain because tribute was aforetime paid\nthem from Britain, by the same reasoning we may establish that Rome\nshould rather pay tribute to us. In olden days there lived two\nbrothers, British born, namely, Belinus, King of the Britons, and\nBrennus, Duke of Burgundy, both wise and doughty lords. These stout\nchampions arrived with their men before Rome, and shutting the city\nclose, at the end gained it by storm. They took hostages of the\ncitizens to pay them tribute, but since the burgesses did not observe\ntheir covenant, the brethren hanged the hostages, to the number of\nfour and-twenty, in the eyes of all their kinsfolk. When Belinus went\nto his own place, he commended Rome to the charge of Brennus, his\nbrother. Now Constantine, the son of Helena, drew from Brennus and\nBelinus, and in his turn held Rome in his care. Maximian, King of\nBritain, after he had conquered France and Germany, passed the Mont\nSt. Bernard into Lombardy, and took Rome to his keeping. These mighty\nkings were my near kinsmen, and each was master of Rome. Thus you have\nheard, and see clearly, that not only am I King of Britain, but by law\nEmperor of Rome also, so we maintain the rights of our fathers. The\nRomans have had truage of us, and my ancestors have taken seisin of\nthem. They claim Britain, and I demand Rome. This is the sum and end\nof my counsel as regards Britain and Rome. Let him have the fief and\nthe rent who is mightier in the field. As to France and those other\ncountries which have been removed from their hands, the Romans should\nnot wish to possess that which they may not maintain. Either the\nland was not to their mind, or they had not the strength to hold it.\nPerchance the Romans have no rights in the matter, and it is by reason\nof covetousness rather than by love of law, that they seek this\nquarrel. Let him keep the land who can, by the right of the most\nstrong. For all these things the emperor menaces us very grievously. I\npray God that he may do us no harm. Our fiefs and goods he promises\nto take from us, and lead us captive in bonds to Rome. We care not\novermuch for this, and are not greatly frighted at his words. If he\nseek us after his boast, please God, he will have no mind to threaten\nwhen he turns again to his own home. We accept his challenge, and\nappeal to God's judgment, that all may be rendered to his keeping, who\nis able to maintain it in his hand.\"\n\nWhen Arthur the king had made an end of speaking in the ears of his\nbarons, the word was with those who had hearkened to his counsel. Hoel\nfollowed after the king. \"Sire,\" said he, \"you have spoken much, and\nright prudently, nor is there any who can add wisdom to your speech.\nSummon now your vassals and meinie, together with us who are of your\nhousehold. Cross the sea straightway into France, and make the realm\nsure with no further tarrying. From thence we can pass Mont St.\nBernard, and overrun Lombardy. By moving swiftly we shall carry the\nwar into the emperor's own land. We shall fright him so greatly that\nhe will have the less leisure to trouble Britain. Your movements,\nmoreover, will be so unlooked for that the Romans will be altogether\namazed, and quickly confounded. Sire, it is the Lord's purpose to\nexalt you over all the kings of the earth. Hinder not the will of God\nby doubtfulness. He is able to put even Rome in your power, so only it\nbe according to His thought. Remember the books of the Sibyl, and of\nthe prophecies therein. The Sibyl wrote that three kings should come\nforth from Britain, who of their might should conquer Rome. Of these\nthree princes, two are dead. Belinus is dead, and Constantine is dead,\nbut each in his day was the master of Rome. You are that third king\ndestined to be stronger than the great city. In you the prophecy shall\nbe fulfilled, and the Sibyl's words accomplished. Why then scruple to\ntake what God gives of His bounty? Rise up then, exalt yourself, exalt\nyour servants, who would see the end of God's purpose. I tell you\ntruly that nothing of blows or hurt, neither weariness nor prison nor\ndeath, counts aught with us in comparison with what is due to the\nking's honour. For my part, I will ride in your company, so long as\nthis business endures, with ten thousand armed horsemen at my back.\nMoreover, if your treasury has need of moneys for the quarrel, I will\nput my realm in pledge, and deliver the gold and the gain to your\nhand. Never a penny will I touch of my own, so long as the king has\nneed.\"\n\nAfter Hoel had ended his counsel, Aguisel, King of Scotland, who was\nbrother to Lot and to Urian, stood on his feet. \"Sire,\" said he, \"the\nwords you have spoken in this hall, where are gathered the flower of\nyour chivalry, are dear to their ears, for we have listened to the\ndisdainful messages of Rome. Be assured that each of your peers will\naid you to the utmost of his power. Now is the time and occasion to\nshow forth the counsel and help we can afford to our king. Not one of\nus here who is a subject of your realm, and holds his manors of the\ncrown, but will do his duty to his liege, as is but just and right. No\ntidings I have heard for a great while past sounded so good and fair\nas the news that presently we shall have strife with Rome. These\nRomans are a people whom I neither love with my heart, nor esteem in\nmy mind, but hate because they are very orgulous and proud. Upright\nfolk should avoid their fellowship, for they are an evil and a\ncovetous race, caring for no other matter but to heap treasure\ntogether, and add to their store. The emperor of this people, by fraud\nand deceit, has fastened this quarrel upon us, sending you letters\nwith an embassy. He deems that Britain is no other than it was, or\nhe would not demand his measure of tribute, pressed down and running\nover. The Roman has raised such a smoke that his fingers will quickly\nbe scorched in the flame. Moreover, had the Roman kept quiet, even had\nhe refrained from threats, it becomes our honour, of our own choice,\nto enter on this war, to avenge the wrongs of our fathers, and to\nabase his pride. The Romans' logic is that they are entitled to\nreceive tribute at our hands, by reason that their fathers, in their\nday, took truage of our ancestors. If this be so, it was no free-will\noffering of our fathers, but was wrenched from them by force. So be\nit. By force we take again our own, and revenge ourselves for all the\npilling of the past. We are a perilous people, who have proved victors\nin divers great battles, and brought many a bitter war to a good end.\nBut what profit is ours of nil these triumphs, so long as we cry not\n'check' to Rome! I desire not drink to my lips when athirst, nor meat\nto my mouth when an hungered, as I desire the hour when we hurtle\ntogether in the field. Then hey for the helm laced fast, the lifted\nshield, for the brandished sword, and the mighty horse. God! what\nspoil and rich ransom will he gain whose body God keeps with His\nbuckler that day. Never again will he be poor till his life's end.\nCities and castles will be his for the sacking; and mules, sumpters,\nand destriers to the heart's desire. On then, comrades, to the\nconquest of Rome, and to the parcelling of the Romans' lands. When the\nproud city is destroyed, and its wardens slain, there remains yet a\nwork for us to do. We will pass into Lorraine, and seize the realm. We\nwill make our pleasaunce of all the strongholds of Germany. So we will\ndo, till there endures not a land to the remotest sea but is Arthur's\nfief, nor one only realm to pluck them from his power. Right or wrong\nthis is our purpose. That my blow may be heavy as my word, and the\ndeed accord with the speech, I am ready to go with the king, and ten\nthousand riders with me, besides men-at-arms in such plenty that no\nman may count them.\"\n\nWhen the King of Scotland had spoken, there was much stir and tumult,\nall men crying that he would be shamed for ever who did not his utmost\nin this quarrel. Arthur and his baronage being of one mind together,\nthe king wrote certain letters to Rome, and sealed them with his\nring. These messages he committed to the embassy, honouring right\nworshipfully those reverend men. \"Tell your countrymen,\" said the\nking, \"that I am lord of Britain: that I hold France, and will\ncontinue to hold it, and purpose to defend it against the Roman power.\nLet them know of a surety that I journey to Rome presently at their\nbidding, only it will be not to carry them tribute, but rather to seek\nit at their hand.\" The ambassadors, therefore, took their leave, and\nwent again to Rome. There they told where and in what fashion they\nwere welcomed of the king, and reported much concerning him. This\nArthur--said these ancient men--is a lord amongst kings, generous and\nbrave, lettered and very wise. Not another king could furnish the\nriches spent on his state, by reason of the attendance of his\nministers, and the glory of their apparel. It was useless to seek\ntribute from Arthur, since in olden days Britain received tribute of\nRome.\n\nNow when the senate had heard the report of the messengers, and\nconsidered the letters wherewith they were charged, they were\npersuaded of ambassador and message alike that Arthur neither would do\nhomage nor pay them the tribute they demanded. The senate, therefore,\ntook counsel with the emperor, requiring him to summon all the empire\nto his aid. They devised that with his host he should pass through the\nmountains into Burgundy, and giving battle to King Arthur deprive him\nof kingdom and crown. Lucius Tiberius moved very swiftly. He sent\nmessages to kings, earls, and dukes, bidding them as they loved honour\nto meet him on a near day at Rome, in harness for the quest. At the\nemperor's commandment came many mighty lords, whose names I find\nwritten in the chronicles of those times. To meet Lucius came\nEpistrophius, King of the Greeks, Ession, King of Broeotia, and Itarc,\nKing of the Turks, a passing strong and perilous knight. With these\nwere found Pandras, King of Egypt, and Hippolytus, King of Crete.\nThese were lords of very great worship, a hundred cities owning their\ntyranny. Evander drew from Syria, and Teucer from Phrygia; from\nBabylon came Micipsa, and from Spain, Aliphatma. From Media came King\nBocus, from Libya, Sertonus, from Bithyma, Polydetes, and from Idumea,\nKing Xerxes Mustansar, the King of Africa, came from his distant home,\nmany a long days' journey. With him were black men and Moors, bearing\ntheir king's rich treasure. The senate gave of their number these\npatricians: Marcellus and Lucius Catellus, Cocta, Cams, and Metellus.\nMany other lords gladly joined themselves to that company, whose\nnames for all my seeking I have not found. When the host was gathered\ntogether, the count of the footmen was four hundred thousand armed\nmen, besides one hundred and eighty thousand riders on horses. This\nmighty army, meetly ordered and furnished with weapons, set forth on a\nday to give Arthur battle from Rome.\n\nArthur and his baronage departed from the court to make them ready\nfor battle. The king sent his messengers to and fro about the land,\ncalling and summoning each by his name, to hasten swiftly with his\npower, so that he valued Arthur's love. Not a knight but was bidden to\nride on his allegiance, with all the men and horses that he had. The\nlords of the isles, Ireland, Gothland, Iceland, Denmark, Norway and\nthe Orkneys, promised for their part one hundred and forty thousand\nmen, armed and clad according to the fashion of their country. Of\nthese not a horseman but was a cunning rider, not a footman but bore\nhis accustomed weapon, battle-axe, javelin, or spear Normandy and\nAnjou, Auvergne and Poitou, Flanders and Boulogne promised, without\nlet, eighty thousand sergeants more, each with his armour on his back.\nSo much it was their right and privilege to do, they said. The twelve\npeers of France, who were of the fellowship of Guenn of Chartres,\npromised every one to ride at Arthur's need, each man with a hundred\nlances. This was their bounden service, said these peers. Hoel of\nBrittany promised ten thousand men, Aguisel of Scotland two thousand\nmore. From Britain, his proper realm, that we now call England, Arthur\nnumbered forty thousand horsemen in hauberks of steel. As for the\ncount of the footmen--arbalestriers, archers, and spearmen--it was\nbeyond all measure, for the number of the host was as the grains of the\nsand. When Arthur was certified of the greatness of his power, and\nof the harness of his men, he wrote letters to each of his captains,\ncommanding him that on an appointed day he should come in ships to\nBarfleur in Normandy. The lords of his baronage, who had repaired from\nthe court to their fiefs, hastened to make ready with those whom they\nshould bring across the sea. In like manner Arthur pushed on with his\nbusiness, that nothing should hinder or delay.\n\nArthur committed the care of his realm, and of Dame Guenevere, his\nwife, to his nephew, Mordred, a marvellously hardy knight, whom Arthur\nloved passing well. Mordred was a man of high birth, and of many noble\nvirtues, but he was not true. He had set his heart on Guenevere, his\nkinswoman, but such a love brought little honour to the queen. Mordred\nhad kept this love close, for easy enough it was to hide, since who\nwould be so bold as to deem that he loved his uncle's dame? The lady\non her side had given her love to a lord of whom much good was spoken,\nbut Mordred was of her husband's kin! This made the shame more\nshameworthy. Ah, God, the deep wrong done in this season by Mordred\nand the queen.\n\nArthur, having put all the governance in Mordred's power, save only\nthe crown, went his way to Southampton. His meinie was lodged about\nthe city, whilst his vessels lay within the haven. The harbour was\nfilled with the ships. They passed to and fro; they remained at\nanchorage; they were bound together by cables. The carpenter yet was\nbusy upon them with his hammer. Here the shipmen raised the mast,\nand bent the sail. There they thrust forth bridges to the land, and\ncharged the stores upon the ship. The knights and the sergeants\nentered therein in their order, bearing pikes, and leading the fearful\nhouses by the rein. You could watch them crying farewell, and waving\ntheir hands, to those remaining on the shore. When the last man had\nentered in the last ship the sailors raised the anchors, and worked\nthe galleys from the haven. Right diligently the mariners laboured,\nspreading the sails, and making fast the stays. They pulled stoutly\nupon the hoists and ropes, so that the ships ran swiftly out to sea.\nThen they made the ropes secure, each in its wonted place. The captain\nwho was charged with the safety of the ship set his course carefully,\nwhilst pilot and steersman needfully observed his word. At his bidding\nthey put the helm to port, to lee, as they might better fill their\nsails with the wind. As need arose the shipmen drew upon the cords and\nbowlines, or let the canvas fall upon the deck, that the vessel might\nbe the less beaten of the waves. Thus, loosing and making fast,\nletting go and bringing quickly to the deck, hauling and tugging at\nthe ropes--so they proceeded on their way. When night was come, they\nsteered their courses by the stars, furling the sails that the wind\nshould not carry them from their path. Very fearful were the mariners\nof the dark, and went as slowly as they were able. Passing bold was\nhe, that first courteous captain, who builded the first ship, and\ncommitting his body to the wind and waves, set forth to seek a land he\nmight not see, and to find such haven as men had never known.\n\nNow it came to pass that whilst the host voyaged in great content with\na fair wind towards Barfleur, that Arthur slept, for he was passing\nheavy, and it was night. As the king slumbered he beheld a vision,\nand, lo, a bear flying high in air towards the east. Right huge and\nhideous of body was the bear, and marvellously horrible to see. Also\nthe king saw a dragon flying over against him towards the west. The\nbrightness of his eyes was such, that the whole land and sea were\nfilled with the radiance of his glory. When these two beasts came\ntogether, the dragon fell upon the bear, and the bear defended himself\nvaliantly against his adversary. But the dragon put his enemy beneath\nhim, and tumbling him to the earth, crushed him utterly in the dust.\nWhen Arthur had slept for awhile, his spirit came to him again, and he\nawoke and remembered his dream. The king called therefore for his wise\nclerks, and related to them and his household the vision that he had\nseen of the bear and; of the dragon. Then certain of these clerks\nexpounded to the king his dream, and the interpretation thereof. The\ndragon that was beholden of the king signified himself. By the bear\nwas shown forth a certain horrible giant, come from a far land, whom\nhe should slay. The giant desired greatly that the adventure should\nend in another fashion; nevertheless all would be to the king's\nprofit. But Arthur replied, \"My interpretation of the dream is other\nthan yours. To me it typifies rather the issue of the war between\nmyself and the emperor. But let the Creator's will be done.\"\n\nAfter these words no more was spoken until the rising of the sun.\nVery early in the morning they came to haven at Barfleur in Normandy.\nPresently the host issued from the ships, and spread themselves\nabroad, to await the coming of those who tarried on the way. Now they\nhad but dwelled for a little while in the land when tidings were\nbrought to the king that a marvellously strong giant, newly come\nfrom Spain, had ravished Helen, the niece of his kinsman, Hoel. This\ndoleful lady the giant had carried to a high place known as St.\nMichael's Mount, though in that day there was neither church nor\nmonastery on the cliff, but all was shut close by the waves of the\nsea. There was none in the country so hardy and strong, whether gentle\nor simple of birth, that dared to do battle with the giant, or even\nto come where he lay. Often enough the folk of the land had gathered\nthemselves together, and compassed about the rock both by land and\nsea, but little had they gained from their labour. For the giant had\nbeaten their boats amongst the rocks, so that they were slain or\ndrowned. Therefore they left him to himself, since there was none\nto hinder his pleasure. The peasants of the realm were exceeding\nsorrowful. Their enemy spoiled their houses, harried their cattle,\nbore away their wives and children, and returned to his fastness on\nthe mount. The villeins lurked in the woods from his wrath. They\nperished of misery in secret places, so that the whole land was\nbarren, because there was none to labour in the fields. This\nmarvellous giant had to name Dinabuc. Not a soul but prayed that he\nmight come to an evil end. When Arthur heard these lamentable tidings\nhe called to him Kay the seneschal and Bedevere his cupbearer, for he\nwould open his counsel to no other man. He told them his purpose to\ndepart from the camp that same night privily, taking none with him,\nsave themselves alone. None but they would know of his errand, for he\nrode to the mount to be assured as to whether he or the giant was\nthe stouter champion. All through the night the three rode together,\nsparing not the spur. At daybreak they came upon the ford that leads\nacross the water to the mount. Looking towards the mount they beheld\na burning fire upon the hill, that might be seen from very far. Over\nagainst the mount was set another hill, near by, and of lesser height,\nand upon this hill also a fire of coals. Arthur gazed from hill to\nmountain. He doubted where the giant lodged, and in which of these two\nhigh places he should come upon him. There was no man to ask of his\ndwelling, nor to tell of his outgoings. Arthur bade Bedevere to go\nfirst to the one and then to the other hill, seeking news of the\ngiant. When he had found that which he sought, he must return swiftly,\nbringing good tidings. Bedevere set forth upon his quest. He entered\ninto a little boat, and rowed over to that mount which was nearer. He\ncould cross in no other manner, for the tide was very full, and all\nthe sand was covered of the sea. Bedevere got him from the boat, and\nbegan to climb the hill. As he climbed he stood still for a space, and\nhearkened. From above Bedevere might hear a noise of sore weeping, and\nloud lamentation, and doleful sighs. The knight grew cold at the heart\nroot by reason of his exceeding fear, since he deemed to have come\nupon the giant at his play. Presently the courage returned to his\nbreast, and drawing the sword from its sheath, he advanced stoutly up\nthe hill. Bedevere considered within himself that it were better for\na knight to die, rather than know himself a coward. He reproached\nhimself for his tearfulness, and in heart and hope desired only to\nbring the adventure to a good end. His wish proved but vain. When\nBedevere won the summit of the mountain, there was no giant, but only\na flaming fire, and close by the fire a new-digged grave. The knight\ndrew near this fire, with the sword yet naked in his hand. Lying\nbeside the grave he found an old woman, with rent raiment and\nstreaming hair, lamenting her wretched case. She bewailed also the\nfate of Helen, making great dole and sorrow, with many shrill cries.\nWhen this piteous woman beheld Bedevere upon the mount, \"Oh, wretched\nman,\" she exclaimed, \"what is thy name, and what misadventure leads\nyou here! Should the giant find thee in his haunt, this very day thy\nlife will end in shame and grief and hurt. Flee, poor wretch, upon thy\nroad, before he spies thee. Be pitiful to thyself, nor seek to die,\nfor who art thou to deliver thyself from his wrath!\" \"Good dame,\" made\nreply Sir Bedevere, \"give over weeping and answer my words. Tell me\nwho you are, and why you shed these tears. For what reason do you\nabide in this isle, and crouch beside this tomb? Answer me plainly\nconcerning your adventure.\" \"Fair lord,\" replied the ancient lady, \"I\nam a forsaken and a most unhappy woman. I make my lamentation for a\ndamsel, named Helen, whom I nourished at my breast, the niece of Duke\nHoel of this realm. Here lies her body in this tomb, that was given to\nme to cherish. Alas, for her who was set upon my knees! Alas, for her\nI cherished in my bosom! A certain devil ravished her away, and me\nalso, bearing us both to this his lair. The giant would have had to do\nwith the maiden, but she was so tender of her years that she might not\nendure him. Passing young was the maid, whilst he, for his part, was\nso gross and weighty of bone and flesh, that her burden was more than\nshe could bear. For this the soul departed from her body. Alas, wretch\nthat I am, I remain alive, and she, my joy and my love, my sweetness\nand my delight, was foully done to death by this giant. Nothing was\nleft for me to do, but to put her body in the earth.\" \"For what reason\ndo you abide in this hill,\" asked Sir Bedevere, \"since Helen is gone\nbefore?\" \"Will thou learn of the reason,\" said the ancient damsel,\n\"then it shall not be hidden; for easy it is to see that thou art a\ngentle and a courteous man. When Helen had gone her way in shame and\nsorrow, the giant constrained me to abide that I might suffer his\npleasure. This he did, although my heart was hot because I had seen my\nlady die in sore anguish. Force keeps me in this haunt, force makes\nme his sport. You cannot think that I stay of my own free will on the\nmount. I but submit to the will of the Lord. Would to God that I were\ndead, as for a little more I should be slain of the giant. But if I am\nolder of years, I am also stronger, and harder, and more firm in\nmy purpose, than ever was my frail Lady Helen. Nevertheless I am\nwell-nigh gone, and have little longer to endure. Perchance even this\nvery day will be my last. Friend, tarry here no further whomsoever\nthou mayst be. Flee while you can, for behold the fire smokes upon the\nmountain, and the devil makes him ready to ascend, according to his\ncustom. Be not snared within his net. Depart, and leave an old woman\nto her tears and sorrow; for I have no care to live, since Helen and\nher love are spoiled with dust.\"\n\nWhen Bedevere heard this adventure he was filled with pity. With his\nwhole heart he comforted the damsel as gently as he might. He left\nher for a season, and hastening down the hill came straightway to the\nking. Bedevere showed his lord of all that he had heard and seen. He\ntold over the tale of that ancient nurse lamenting by a grave; of\nHelen who was dead, and of the giant's haunt upon the higher of the\nhills which smoked. Arthur was passing heavy at Helen's fate. He\nwasted no time in tears, nor suffered himself to be fearful. Arthur\nbade his companions get into their harness, and ride with him to the\nford. The tide was now at the ebb, so that they crossed on their\nhorses, and came speedily to the foot of the hill. There they\ndismounted, giving their mantles and destriers to the charge of the\nsquires. Arthur, Bedevere, and Kay, the three together, began briskly\nto climb the mount. After they had climbed for a while Arthur spake to\nhis fellows: \"Comrades, I go before to do battle with the giant. For\nyour part you must follow a little after. But let neither of you be so\nbold as to aid me in my quarrel, so long as I have strength to strive.\nBe the buffets what they may, stand you still, unless he beats me to\nthe ground. It is not seemly that any, save one, should have lot in\nthis business. Nevertheless so you see me in utmost peril and fear,\ncome swiftly to my succour, nor let me find death at his hands.\" Sir\nKay and Sir Bedevere made this covenant with their lord, and the three\nknights together set forth again up the hill. Now when Arthur drew\nnear to the summit of the mount, he beheld the giant crouched above\nhis fire. He broiled a hog within the flame upon a spit. Part of the\nflesh he had eaten already, and part of the meat was charred and\nburning in the fire. He was the more hideous to see because his beard\nand hair were foul with blood and coal. Arthur trusted to take him\nthus unready, before he could get to his mace. But the giant spied his\nadversary, and all amarvelled leapt lightly on his feet. He raised the\nclub above his shoulder, albeit so heavy that no two peasants of the\ncountry could lift it from the ground. Arthur saw the giant afoot, and\nthe blow about to fall. He gripped his sword, dressing the buckler\nhigh to guard his head. The giant struck with all his strength upon\nthe shield, so that the mountain rang like an anvil. The stroke was\nstark, and Arthur stood mazed at the blow, but he was hardy and\nstrong, and did not reel. When the king came to himself, and marked\nthe shield shattered on his arm, he was marvellously wroth. He raised\nhis sword and struck full at the giant's brow. The blow was shrewd,\nand would have brought the combat to an end had not the giant parried\nwith his mace. Even so, his head was sorely hurt, and the blood ran\ndown his face, that he might not see. When the giant knew that he was\nwounded to his hurt, he became in his rage as a beast possessed. He\nturned grimly on his adversary, even as the boar, torn of the hounds\nand mangled by the hunting knife, turns on the hunter. Filled with\nire and malice the giant rushed blindly on the king. Heedless of the\nsword, he flung his arms about him, and putting forth the full measure\nof his might, bore Arthur to his knees. Arthur was ardent and swift\nand ready of wit. He remembered his manhood, and struggled upright on\nhis feet. He was altogether angered, and fearful of what might hap.\nSince strength could not help, he called subtlety to his aid. Arthur\nmade his body stiff like a rod, and held himself close, for he was\npassing strong. He feigned to spring on his foe, but turning aside,\nslipped quickly from under the giant's arms. When Arthur knew his\nperson free of these bands, he passed swiftly to and fro, eluding his\nenemy's clasp. Now he was here, now there, ofttimes striking with the\nsword. The giant ran blindly about, groping with his hands, for his\neyes were full of blood, and he knew not white from black. Sometimes\nArthur was before him, sometimes behind, but never in his grip, till\nat the end the king smote him so fiercely with Excalibur that the blade\nclove to his brain, and he fell. He cried out in his pain, and the\nnoise of his fall and of this exceeding bitter cry was as fetters of\niron tormented by the storm.\n\nArthur stood a little apart, and gazed upon his adversary. He laughed\naloud in his mirth; for his anger was well-nigh gone. He commanded\nBedevere, his cupbearer, to strike off the giant's head, and deliver\nit to the squires, that they might bear it to the host, for the\ngreater marvel. Bedevere did after his lord's behest. He drew his\nsword, and divided the head from the shoulders. Wonderfully huge and\nhideous to sight was the head of this giant. Never, said Arthur, had\nhe known such fear; neither had met so perilous a giant, save only\nthat Riton, who had grieved so many fair kings. This Riton in his day\nmade war upon divers kings. Of these some were slain in battle, and\nothers remained captive in his hand. Alive or dead, Riton used them\ndespitefully; for it was his wont to shave the beards of these\nkings, and purfle therewith a cloak of furs that he wore, very rich.\nVainglorious beyond measure was Riton of his broidered cloak. Now by\nreason of folly and lightness, Riton sent messages to Arthur, bidding\nhim shave his beard, and commend it forthwith to the giant, in all\ngood will. Since Arthur was a mightier lord and a more virtuous prince\nthan his fellows, Riton made covenant to prefer his beard before\ntheirs, and hold it in honour as the most silken fringe of his mantle.\nShould Arthur refuse to grant Riton the trophy, then nought was there\nto do, but that body to body they must fight out their quarrel, in\nsingle combat, alone. He who might slay his adversary, or force him\nto own himself vanquished, should have the beard for his guerdon,\ntogether with the mantle of furs, fringes and garniture and all.\nArthur accorded with the giant that this should be so. They met in\nbattle on a high place, called Mount Aravius, in the far east, and\nthere the king slew Riton with the sword, spoiling him of that rich\ngarment of furs, with its border of dead kings' beards. Therefore,\nsaid Arthur, that never since that day had he striven with so perilous\na giant, nor with one of whom he was so sorely frighted. Nevertheless\nDinabuc was bigger and mightier than was Riton, even in the prime of\nhis youth and strength. For a monster more loathly and horrible, a\ngiant so hideous and misshapen, was never slain by man, than the devil\nArthur killed to himself that day, in Mont St. Michel, over against\nthe sea.\n\nAfter Arthur had slam the monster, and Bedevere had taken his head,\nthey went their way to the host in great mirth and content. They\nreached the camp, and showed the spoil to all who would, for their\nhearts were high with that which they had done. Hoel was passing\nsorrowful for that fair lady, his niece, making great lamentation for\na while over her who was lost in so fearsome a fashion. In token of\nhis dolour he budded on the mount a chapel to Our Lady St. Mary, that\nmen call Helen's Tomb to this very day. Although this fair chapel\nwas raised above the grave of this piteous lady, and is yet hight\nTombelame, none gives a thought to the damsel after whom it is named.\nNothing more have I to relate concerning this adventure, and would\ntell you now of that which happened to the host.\n\nWhen the men of Ireland, and those others for whom Arthur tarried, had\njoined themselves to the host, the king set forth, a day's march every\nday, through Normandy. Without pause or rest he and his fellowship\npassed across France, tarrying neither at town nor castle, and came\nspeedily into Burgundy. The king would get to Autun as swiftly as\nhe might, for the Romans were spoiling the land, and Lucius their\nemperor, together with a great company, purposed to enter in the city.\nNow when Arthur drew to the ford, leading across the waters of the\nAube, his spies and certain peasants of those parts came near and\nwarned him privily concerning the emperor, who lay but a little way\nthence, so that the king could seek him, if he would. The Romans had\nsheltered them in tents, and in lodges of branches. They were as the\nsand of the shore for multitude, so that the peasants marvelled that\nthe earth could bring forth for the footmen and horses. Never might\nthe king store and garner in that day, for where he reaped with\none, Lucius the emperor would reap with four. Arthur was in no wise\ndismayed at their words. He had gone through many and divers perils,\nand was a valiant knight, having faith and affiance in God. On a\nlittle hill near this river Aube, Arthur builded earthworks for his\nhost, making the place exceeding strong. He closed the doors fast,\nand put therein a great company of knights and men at arms to hold\nit close. In this fortress he set his harness and stores, so that he\ncould repair thither to his camp in time of need. When all was done\nArthur summoned to his counsel two lords whom he esteemed for fair and\nready speech. These two lords were of high peerage. Guerin of Chartres\nwas one, and the other was that Boso, Earl of Oxford, right learned\nin the law. To these two barons Arthur added Gawain, who had dwelt in\nRome for so long a space. This Arthur did by reason that Gawain was a\ngood clerk, meetly schooled, and held in much praise and honour by his\nfriends in Rome. These three lords the king purposed to send as an\nembassy to the emperor. They were to bear his message, bidding the\nRomans to turn again to their own land, nor seek to enter France,\nfor it pertained to the king. Should Lucius persist in his purpose,\nrefusing to return whence he came, then let him give battle on the\nearliest day, to determine whether Arthur or he had the better right.\nThis thing was certain. So long as Arthur had breath he would maintain\nhis claim to France, despite the Roman power. He had gained it by the\nsword, and it was his by right of conquest. In ancient days Rome, in\nher turn, held it by the same law. Then let the God of battles decide\nwhether Britain or Rome had the fairer right to France.\n\nThe messengers of the king apparelled themselves richly for their\nmaster's honour. They mounted on their fairest destriers, vested in\nhauberks of steel, with laced helmets, and shields hung round their\nnecks. They took their weapons in their hands, and rode forth from the\ncamp. Now when certain knights and divers bold and reckless varlets\nsaw the embassy make ready to seek the emperor, they came to Gawain\nand gave him freely of their counsel. These exhorted him that when he\nreached the court, to which he fared, he should act in such fashion,\nright or wrong, that a war would begin which had threatened overlong.\nYea, to use such speech that if no matter of dispute should be found\nat the meeting, there might yet be quarrel enough when they parted.\nThe embassy accorded, therefore, that they would so do as to constrain\nthe Romans to give battle. Gawain and his comrades crossed a mountain,\nand came through a wood upon a wide plain. At no great distance they\nbeheld the tents and lodges of the host. When the Romans saw the three\nknights issue from the wood, they drew near to look upon their faces\nand to inquire of their business. They asked of them concerning whom\nthey sought, and if for peace they had come within the camp. But the\nthree knights refused to answer, for good or evil, until they were led\nbefore the lord of Rome. The embassy got from their horses before the\nemperor's pavilion. They gave their bridles to the hands of the pages,\nbut as to their swords concealed them beneath their mantles. The three\nknights showed neither salutation nor courtesy when they stood in the\nemperor's presence. They rehearsed over Arthur's message, whilst Lucius\nhearkened attentively to their words. Each of the ambassadors said\nthat which pleased him to be said, and told over what he held proper\nto be told. The emperor listened to each and all without interruption.\nAfter he had considered at his leisure he purposed to reply. \"We come\nfrom Arthur, our lord,\" said Gawain, \"and bear to thee his message. He\nis our king, and we are his liegemen, so it becomes us to speak only\nthe words he has put in our mouth. By us, his ambassadors, he bids you\nrefrain from setting a foot in France. He forbids you to intermeddle\nwith the realm, for it is his, and he will defend his right with such\npower, that very certainly you may not snatch it from his hand. Arthur\nrequires you to seek nothing that is his. If, however, you challenge\nhis claim to France, then battle shall prove his title good, and by\nbattle you shall be thrown back to your own land. Once upon a time the\nRomans conquered this realm by force, and by force they maintained\ntheir right. Let battle decide again whether Rome or Britain has the\npower to keep. Come forth to-morrow with thy host, so that it may be\nproven whether you or we shall hold France. If you fear this thing,\nthen go your way in peace, as indeed is best, for what else is there\nto do! The game is played, and Rome and you have lost.\" Lucius the\nemperor made answer that he did not purpose to return to his realm.\nFrance was his fief, and he would visit his own. If he might not\npursue his road to-day, why, then to-morrow. But in heart and hope he\ndeemed himself mighty enough to conquer France, and to take all in his\nseisin. Now Quintilian, the nephew of the emperor, was seated by his\nside. He took the word suddenly from his uncle's mouth, for he was a\npassing proud youth, quick to quarrel, and very bitter in speech. \"The\nBritons,\" cried he, \"are known to all as a vainglorious people. They\nthreaten readily, and they boast and brag more readily still. We have\nlistened to their menaces, but we remember they are of those who boast\nthe more because they act the less.\" Quintilian, as I deem, would have\ncontinued with yet other grievous words, but Gawain, who was hot with\nanger, drew forth his sword, and springing forward, made the head fly\nfrom his shoulders. He cried to his comrades that they should get to\ntheir horses, and the earls won their way from the pavilion, Gawain\nwith them, and they with him. Each seized his steed by the bridle,\nand climbed nimbly in the saddle. Then they rode forth from the camp,\nshield on shoulder, and lance in hand, asking no leave of any.\n\nThe patricians within the pavilion sat silent for a space after that\nbitter stroke. The emperor was the first to come from his amazement.\n\"Why sit you here?\" cried Lucius; \"follow after those men who have set\nthis shame upon us. Ill fall the day, if they come not to my hand!\"\nThe bravest of his household ran from the tent crying for harness and\nhorses. From every side arose the shouting, \"Swiftly, swiftly; bridle\nand spur; gallop, gallop.\" The whole host was mightily moved together.\nThey set saddles on destriers, and led the steeds from the stable.\nThey girt their baldrics about them, and taking their lances, spurred\nafter the fugitives. The three barons pricked swiftly across the\nplain. They looked this way and that; often glancing behind them to\nmark how nearly they were followed. The Romans pursued them pell-mell;\nsome on the beaten road, and others upon the heavy fields. They came\nby two, or three, or five, or six, in little clumps of spears. Now a\ncertain Roman rode in advance of his fellows, by reason of his good\nhorse, which was right speedy. He followed closely after the Britons,\ncalling loudly, \"Lords, stay awhile. He knows himself guilty who flees\nthe pursuer.\" At his word Guerin of Chartres turned him about. He\nset his buckler before him, and lowering the lance, hurtled upon his\nadversary. Guerin rode but the one course. He smote the Roman so\nfiercely, midmost the body, that he fell from his destrier, and died.\nGuerin looked on the fallen man. He said, \"A good horse is not always\ngreat riches. Better for you had you lain coy in your chamber, than to\nhave come to so shameful an end.\" When Boso beheld this adventure of\nGuerin, and heard his words, he was filled with desire of such honour.\nHe turned his horse's head, and seeing before him a knight seeking\nadvancement, ran upon him with the spear. Boso smote his adversary\nin the throat, where the flesh is soft and tender. The Roman fell\nstraightway to the ground, for his hurt was very grievous. Boso cried\ngaily to his stricken foe, \"Master Roman, you must needs be fed with\ngobbets and dainties. Take now your rest, till your comrades may tend\nyou. Then give them the message that I leave you in their care.\" Among\nthe pursuers spurred a certain patrician named Marcellus, who was come\nof a very noble house. This Marcellus was amongst the last to get\nin his saddle, but by reason of the strength and swiftness of his\ndestrier he rode now with the foremost. He had forgotten his lance, in\nhis haste to follow his fellows. Marcellus strove hotly to overtake\nGawain. He rode furiously with bloody spur and loosened rein. His\nhorse approached nearly to Gawain's crupper, and the knight was\npersuaded that in no wise might he shake off his pursuer. Already\nMarcellus had stretched forth his hand, promising Gawain his life if\nhe would yield as his prisoner. Gawain watched his hunter wanly. When\nMarcellus was upon him, Gawain drew his rein sharply, so that the\nRoman overran the chace. As he passed, Gawain plucked forth his\nsword, and smote Marcellus terribly on the helmet. No coif could\nhave hindered the stroke, for it divided the head down to the very\nshoulders. Marcellus tumbled from his horse and went to his place.\nThen said Gawain, of his courtesy, \"Marcellus, when you greet\nQuintilian deep in hell, tell him, I pray, that you have found the\nBritons as bold as their boast. Tell him that they plead the law with\nblows, and bite more fiercely than they bark.\" Gawain called upon his\ncompanions, Guerin and Boso, by their names, to turn them about, and\nenter the lists with their pursuers. The two knights did cheerfully\nafter his counsel, so that three Romans were shocked from their\nsaddles. Then the messengers rode swiftly on their way, whilst the\nRomans followed after, seeking in all things to do them a mischief.\nThey thrust at the Britons with lances, they struck mightily with\nthe sword, yet never might wound nor hurt, neither bring them to the\nearth, nor make them their captives. There was a certain Roman, a\nkinsman of Marcellus, who bestrode a horse that was right speedy. This\nRoman was very dolent, because of his cousin's death, for he had seen\nhis body lying in the dust. He spurred his steed across the plain, and\ngaining upon the three knights, made ready to avenge his kinsman's\nblood. Gawain watched him ride, with lifted sword, as one who deemed\nto smite the shield. When Gawain perceived his purpose, he dropped the\nlance, for he had no need of a spear. He drew his sword, and as the\nRoman, with brand raised high above his head, prepared to strike,\nGawain smote swiftly at the lifted limb. Arm and sword alike flew far\noff in the field, the fist yet clasped about the hilt. Gawain dressed\nhis glaive again. He would have bestowed yet another buffet, but the\nRomans hastened to the succour of their fellow, and he dared not stay.\nIn this fashion the huntsmen followed after the quarry, till the chase\ndrew near a wood, close by the entrance to that fortress Arthur had\nnewly built.\n\nNow Arthur had appointed six thousand horsemen of his host to follow\nafter his messengers. He commanded these horsemen to go by hill and\nvalley to guard against surprise. They were to watch diligently for\nthe ambassadors, affording them succour, so they were beset. This\ngreat company of spears was hidden in the wood. They sat upon their\nhorses, helmet on head, and lance in hand, scanning the road for the\nreturn of Arthur's embassy. Presently they were aware of many armed\nmen riding swiftly across the plain, and in their midst three knights,\nin harness, fleeing for their lives. When the Britons marked the\nquarry, and were assured of the hunters, they cried out with one\nvoice, and burst from their ambush. The Romans dared not abide their\ncoming, but scattered on the plain. The Britons rode hardly upon them,\ndoing them all the mischief they might, for they were passing wroth to\nsee their comrades handselled so despitefully. Many a Roman had reason\nto rue his hunting, for some were seized and made captive, others were\nsorely wounded, and divers slain. There was a certain rich baron named\nPeredur. Amongst the captains of Rome not one was counted his peer.\nThis captain had ten thousand armed men in his bailly, who marched at\nhis bidding. Tidings were carried to Peredur of the snare the Britons\nhad limed. Peredur moved promptly. He hastened with ten thousand\nshields to the plain, and by sheer force and numbers bore the Britons\nback to the wood, for they were not mighty enough to contend against\nhim in the field. The Britons held the wood strongly, and defended it\nright manfully. Peredur might not take it for all his cunning, and\nlost there largely of his company. The Britons lured the Romans within\nthe covert, and slew them in the glooms. So hot and so perilous was\nthe melley, fought between the valley and the wood.\n\n\nArthur took thought to the tarrying of his messengers, and remembered\nthat those came not again whom he sent to their aid. The king summoned\nYder, the son of Nut, to his counsel. He committed to his charge seven\nthousand horses and riders, and despatched them after the others,\nbidding him seek until he found. Yder drew to the plain. Gawain and\nBoso yet strove like champions, and for the rest there was not one but\ndid what he could. From afar Yder heard the cry and the tumult as the\nhosts contended together. When the Britons beheld Yder's company,\nthey were refreshed mightily in heart and hope. They assailed their\nadversaries so fiercely that they won back the ground which was lost.\nYder led his horsemen like a brave knight and a cunning captain.\nHe charged so vigorously with his company, that many a saddle was\nemptied, many a good horse taken, and many a rider shocked. Peredur\nsustained the battle stoutly, and wheeling about, returned to the\nfield. He was a crafty captain, knowing well the hour to charge and to\nwheel, to press hard on the fugitive, or to wait. Many a fair charge\ndid he lead that day. He who was valiant, found Peredur yet more bold.\nWhoso was minded to tourney, found Peredur yet more willing to break\na spear. His bailly smote more terribly with the sword than ever they\nwere stricken, so that three hundred horsemen and over lay dead upon\nthe field. When the Britons marked the deeds of Peredur they could not\nbe contained. They broke from their ranks and companies, and ran\nupon the foe. They were desirous beyond measure to joust with their\nadversaries, and to show forth their prowess. Above all things they\nwere covetous of honour, so that for chivalry they brought the battle\nto confusion. So only they strove hand to hand with the Romans, they\ngave no thought to the end. Peredur wished nothing better. He held his\nbailly closely together, pushing home and drawing off according to\nneed. Many a time he charged amongst the Britons, and many a time\nhe returned, bringing his wounded from their midst. Boso of Oxford\nregarded the battle. He saw his dead upon the ground. He marked the\ncraft with which Peredur--that great captain--sustained the Romans,\nand knew well that all was lost, save that Peredur were slain. How\nmight the courage of a rash and foolish company prevail against the\ndiscipline of the Roman host! Boso called about him the best and\nbravest of his captains. \"Lords,\" he said, \"give me your counsel. You,\nin whom Arthur put his trust, have entered on this battle without any\ncommandment of our lord. If well befalls, all will be well; if ill,\nhe will require his sergeants at our hands. Should we be vile and\nniddering enough to gain no honour on the field, very surely we shall\nreceive yet more shame as our portion when we come into his presence.\nOur one hope is to fight against none, great or small, save only with\nPeredur. Alive or dead he must be made captive, and delivered into\nArthur's power. Until Peredur be taken we shall never draw off in\nhonour from the stour, but must suffer yet greater loss than before.\nIf then you would make him prisoner, follow after where I will lead,\nand do that thing which you shall see me do.\" The captains, therefore,\nplighted faith to follow his ensample, and in no wise to depart from\nhis command.\n\nBoso brought together as many horsemen as he might, and ranged them\nin order of battle. He sent out spies to bring him tidings where that\nPeredur should be met, who led the Romans so craftily. The spies\ndeparted on their perilous errand, and returning presently, proclaimed\nthat Peredur rode with the host in that place where the press was\nthickest, and the battle drew never to an end, Boso rode with his\ncompany straight to the heart of the stour. He hurtled upon the\nRomans, and looking on Peredur, fought his way to his side. When their\nhorses stood together, Boso flung his arms about his adversary, and\ndragged him amongst the Britons. Then of his will he hurled himself\nto the ground, and with him tumbled Sir Peredur. A very marvellous\nadventure was it to behold Boso fall from his destrier in the hottest\nof the battle, clasping Peredur closely in his arms. The two champions\nstrove mightily, but Boso was above, and for nothing would unloose his\nhold. The bailly of Peredur hastened fiercely to the rescue of their\ncaptain. Those whose lances were still unbroken charged till the\nstaves were splintered; when their lances failed them at need, they\nlaid on with their swords, working havoc amongst the Britons. At any\nprice the Romans would rescue their captain, and the Britons were\nin the same mind to succour Boso in his jeopardy. Never might heart\ndesire to see battle arrayed more proudly. Never was there a fairer\nstrife of swords, never a more courteous contention of valiant men.\nPlume and helmet were abased to the dust, shields were cloven, the\nhauberk rent asunder, ash staves knapped like reeds, girths were\nbroken, saddles voided, and strong men thrown, and brave men wounded\nto the death. The thunder of the shouting filled the field. The\nBritons cried as Arthur had taught them, and the Romans answered with\nthe name of Rome. The one party did all that valiant men were able\nto guard their captive in their midst, and the other to pluck their\ncaptain from amongst them. So confused was the contention, so\ndisordered the combat, that men as they strove together hardly knew\nRoman from Briton, friend from foe, save only by the cry they shouted,\nand by the tongue they spoke in the stour. Gawain flung himself in the\npress, hewing a path towards Boso, with mighty strokes of the sword.\nWith point and edge, thrust and cut, he beat down many, and put divers\nto flight. Not a Roman of them all could prevail against him, nor, so\nhe might, would strive to hinder him in his road. From another side\nof the field Yder set his face to the same end. A woodman was he,\nclearing a bloody path amongst the trees. Guerin of Chartres aided him\nlike a loyal comrade, each covering his fellow with the shield. The\nthree champions drew before Peredur and Boso, and dragged them to\ntheir feet. They brought a steed to Boso, and gave a sword to his\nhand. As for Peredur, the crafty captain who had done them so many and\nsuch great mischiefs, they held him strongly. They carried him from\nthe press to their own lines for the greater surety. There they left\nhim, bound, under the charge of trusty warders, and straightway\nreturned to the battle. Now the Romans had lost their captain. They\nwere as a ship upon the waters, without a rudder, that drifts here and\nthere, having neither aim nor direction, at the bidding of the winds\nand waves. Such was the plight of the bailly which was spoiled of its\ncaptain, for an army without a constable is less an army than a flock\nof sheep. The Britons dealt mercilessly with their beaten foe. They\npressed hardly upon the Romans, smiting down and slaying many. They\nmade captives of the fallen, stripping them of wealth and armour, and\npursued hotly after the fugitives. These they bound with cords, and\ncame again in triumph to their companions in the wood, together with\ntheir prisoners. The Britons carried Peredur, the wise captain, to the\ncamp, and bestowed him upon Arthur, their lord. They rendered also to\nhis hand divers other prisoners of less value than he. Arthur thanked\nthem for their gift. He promised to recompense each for his goodwill,\nwhen he returned a victor to his realm. Arthur set his captives fast\nin prison, whence they could in nowise break out. Afterwards he took\ncounsel with his barons to convey the prisoners to Paris, and guard\nthem close in his castle, until the king's pleasure concerning them\nwas known. He feared to keep them with the host, lest--watch as he\nwould--they should escape from his ward. Arthur made ready a strong\ncompany to bring them to Paris, and set governors over them. He gave\nPeredur and his fellows into the charge of four earls of high lineage,\nnamely, Cador, Borel, Richier, and Bedevere his butler. These barons\nrose very early in the morning, and brought the Romans from their\nprison. Like careful warders they put the captives in their midst, and\nset out on their journey, riding right warily.\n\nNow Lucius, the emperor, had learned from his spies that the earls\npurposed to start at daybreak on their road to Paris. Lucius prepared\nten thousand riders on horses. He bade them travel the whole night\nthrough, outstripping the Britons, and devise such ambush as would\nrescue their comrades from these barons. He committed this company to\nSertorius, lord of Libya, and Evander, the King of Syria. With these\nprinces were Caritius and Catellus Vulteius, patricians of Rome. Each\nof these lords was a wealthy man of his lands, and a skilful captain\nin war. Lucius had chosen them from all their fellows, and laid his\ncharge straitly upon them, to succour their comrades in their need.\nThese were the lords of the host. The ten thousand horsemen in mail\nset out at nightfall on their errand. Certain peasants of the land\nwent with them, to guide them by the surest way. They travelled\nthroughout the night, sparing not the spur, till they came forth on\nthe Paris road. There they searched out a likely place where they\nmight hide them in ambush, and held themselves close and coy until\nit was day. Very early in the morning the prickers of the host sent\ntidings that the Britons were near at hand. Arthur's men rode in all\nsurety, deeming they had nought to fear. They were ordered in two\ncompanies. Cador and Borel led the first company, and were the\nvanguard of the host. A little space after came Richier, the earl, and\nBedevere, the king's cupbearer. These had Peredur and his fellows in\ntheir care. Six hundred horsemen in harness followed at the earls'\nbacks, having the captives in their midst. They had tied their wrists\nbehind them, and fastened their feet with ropes under the bellies of\nthe horses. So they pricked, all unwitting, into the snare the Romans\nhad spread. When Cador and Borel were in the net, the Romans sallied\nforth from their hiding. The hard ground trembled beneath the thunder\nof the destriers' hoofs. They charged home fiercely amongst their\nadversaries, but for all their amazement the Britons sustained the\nshock like men. Bedevere and Richier gave ear to the tumult, and the\nnoise of the shouting. Their first thought was to the prisoners. These\nthey set in a sure place, giving them to the charge of their squires,\nand commanding that they should be guarded strictly. Then they\nhastened amain to the breaking of spears. The adversaries clashed\ntogether with all their strength. The Romans drifted here and there,\nin little clumps of lances, for their mind was less to discomfit the\nBritons than to release the captives from their bonds. For their\npart the Britons kept their order, and fared boldly among the enemy.\nPassing heavy were the Romans because of the prisoners they might not\nfind. Very grievous was the count of their horsemen who perished in\nthe search. Now the captains divided the Britons by companies into\nfour strong columns of battle Cador of Cornwall commanded the folk of\nhis earldom; Bedevere the Frenchmen of Beauce, Borel had with him the\nlevies of Le Mans, and to Richier was committed a company drawn from\nthe men of his household. King Evander perceived the loss and the\nperil caused to his host by reason of their divided mind Since the\ncaptives could not be met with, he checked the hastiness of his\nmeinie. He drew back his horsemen, and ranged them in order. Then he\nreturned to the battle. It befell, therefore, that the Romans bore\naway the prize, and had the better of their adversaries. They wrought\nmuch damage to the Britons, making many prisoners. They slew, moreover,\nfour of the mightiest and most valiant lords of their enemies At that\ntime perished Yder, a faithful knight, courageous and passing strong.\nHirelgas of Peritum died, too, this day, there was no hardier knight\nthan he. Ahduc of Tintagel also, for whom his kin made wondrous\nsorrow. Besides these was slain Sir Amaury of the Islands, but whether\nhe was Welsh or Briton I do not know. Earl Borel of Le Mans, a rich\nlord, and a right honoured and puissant prince amongst his own, did\nwell and worshipfully. He checked the Romans boldly, slaying of them\nmore than one hundred men. Evander hastened against him. He thrust his\nlance head through Borel's throat, so that the point came out at his\nneck. Borel fell from his horse, for he was sped. The Britons were\ndismayed beyond measure. They fled before their adversaries, since\nmany were killed, and where one Briton stood, ten Romans opposed\nthemselves over against him. Doubtless they had been utterly\ndiscomfited, and the captives wrested from their hand, had not Guitard\nof Poitiers drawn to their succour. Earl Guitard, that day, was warden\nof the marches. He learned from his prickers tidings that a company\nof Romans was despatched to rescue the captives. Guitard saddled his\ndestrier. He took with him three thousand horsemen, without counting\nthe spearmen and archers, and rode swiftly in aid. As they drew near\nto the battle they heard the shouts of the Romans in praise of their\nvictory. Guitard and his company rode into the press with lowered\nlances and scarlet spurs. A hundred horsemen and more were hurled from\ntheir steeds in that shock, never to climb in the saddle again. The\nRomans were altogether fearful and esmayed, making complaint of their\npitiful plight. They deemed that Arthur himself had fallen upon them\nwith all his meinie at his back. Their hearts turned to water, by reason\nof the number of their dead. The levies of Poitou closed about them,\nand the Britons failed not at need Each company strove to outvie its\nfellow, contending earnestly for the greater glory. The Romans could do\nno more. They turned about and fled the field, utterly discomfited and\nabased. Their one thought was to get to shelter, or else they were all\ndead men. The Britons pressed hardly on the fugitives, slaying many.\nIn the flight King Evander and Catellus were taken, and of their\nfellowship six hundred and more were destroyed. Of these divers were\nslain, and others made captive. The Britons took spoil of prisoners\naccording to their desire, and retained of these as they might. Then\nthey returned by the road, to the place where the combat was won. The\nBritons went about the field searching amongst the dead for Borel, the\nstout Earl of Le Mans. They found him among the fallen, bebled with\nblood, and gashed with many a grisly wound. Afterwards they carried the\nhurt to the surgeons, and the dead they laid in their graves. As for\nPeredur and his companions they committed them afresh to those whom\nArthur had charged with their keeping, and sent them on their way to\nParis. The rest of the prisoners they bound straitly, and carrying them\nbefore Arthur, delivered them to his hand. They rehearsed to the king\nthe tale of this adventure, and not a man of them all but pledged\nhis word that so the Romans made offer of battle, without doubt they\nshould be utterly destroyed.\n\nThe tidings of this heavy discomfiture were brought to the emperor\nLucius learned of the capture of Evander, and of the others who\nwere slain. He saw his men had no more spirit in them, and that the\nbeginning of the war went very ill. Lucius considered the failure of\nhis hopes, that in nothing was he conqueror. He was passing heavy,\nbeing altogether cast down and dismayed. He thought and thought and\nfeared. He knew not whether to give Arthur battle without delay, or to\nawait the coming of the rearward of his host. He doubted sorely that\nwhich he should do, for wondrously affrighted was he of this battle,\nby reason of the losses he had known. Lucius took counsel with his\ncaptains, and devised to bring his company to Autun, passing by way\nof Langres. He set forth with the host, and moving towards Langres,\nentered the city when the day was far spent. Now Langres is builded\non the summit of a mount, and the plain lies all about the city. So\nLucius and part of his people lodged within the town, and for the rest\nthey sought shelter in the valley. Arthur knew well where the emperor\nwould draw, and of his aim and purpose. He was persuaded that the\nRoman would not fight till the last man was with him. He cared neither\nto tarry in the city, nor to pacify the realm. Arthur sounded his\ntrumpets, and bade his men to their harness. As speedily as he might\nhe marched out from camp. He left Langres on the left hand, and passed\nbeyond it bearing to the right. He had in mind to outstrip the emperor,\nand seize the road to Autun. All the night through, without halt or\nstay, Arthur fared by wood and plain, till he came to the valley of\nSoissons. There Arthur armed his host, and made him ready for battle.\nThe highway from Autun to Langres led through this valley, and Arthur\nwould welcome the Romans immediately they were come. The king put the\ngear and the camp followers from the host. He set them on a hill near\nby, arrayed in such fashion as to seem men-at-arms. He deemed that the\nRomans would be the more fearful, when they marked this multitude of\nspears. Arthur took six thousand six hundred and sixty six men, and\nranged them by troops in a strong company. This company he hid\nwithin a wood upon a high place. Mordup, Earl of Gloucester, was the\nconstable of the meinie. \"Your part in the battle,\" said Arthur, \"is\nto be still. Let nothing induce you to break from your post should\nevil befall, and the battle roll back to the wood, charge boldly on\nyour adversaries, that you comrades may find rest if it chance that\nthe Romans turn their backs in the battle, then hurtle upon them\nwithout delay, sparing none in the flight\". So these answered,\npromising to do after his word Arthur straightway ordered another\nlegion. It Was formed of mighty men, chosen from amongst his vassals,\nwith laced helmets, riding on their destriers. This fair company he\narrayed in open ground, and it owned no other captain save the king.\nWith this legion rode those of his privy household, whom he had\ncherished and nourished at his own table. In their midst was guarded\nthe royal Dragon, that was the king's own gonfalon. From the rest\nof his host the king made six companies, each company having ten\ncaptains. Half of these companies were horsemen, and the others went\non foot. On each and all Arthur laid prayer and commandment, that\nrider and sergeant alike should bear them as men, and contend\nearnestly against the Romans. Not one of these legions but was numbered\nof five thousand five hundred and fifty-five horsemen, chosen\nsoldiers, mighty men of valour, and mightily armed for war. Of the\neight legions, four companies were set over against their enemy,\nsupported by four behind. Every man was armed and clad according to\nthe custom of his land. Aguisel of Scotland had the forefront of the\nfirst legion in his keeping, Cador of Cornwall being charged with the\nrear. Boso and Earl Guerin of Chartres were the constables of another\ncompany. The third company, formed of outland folk, and armed in\ndivers manners, was delivered to Echil, King of the Danes, and to Lot,\nthe King of Norway. The fourth had Hoel for constable, and with him\nGawain, who, certes, was no faintheart. Behind these four legions were\narrayed and ordered yet four other companies. Of one, Kay the sewer\nand Bedevere the cupbearer were the captains. With Kay were the men\nof Chinon and the Angevins; whilst under Bedevere were the levies of\nParis and of Beauce. To Holdin of Flanders and Guitard the Poitivin\nwere committed another company--right glad were they of their trust.\nEarls Jugein of Leicester and Jonathan of Dorchester were lords and\nconstables of the seventh legion. Earl Curfalain of Chester and Earl\nUrgain of Bath held the eighth legion as their bailly; for these\nwere lords by whom Arthur set great store. As for the spearmen, the\narchers, and the stout arbalestriers Arthur separated them from the\npress. He divided them into two portions--one for either wing of his\narmy. All these were about the king's person, and embattled near his\nbody.\n\nWhen Arthur had arrayed his legions, and set his battle in order,\nhearken now that which he spake to his lords, his household, and his\nvassals \"Lords,\" said Arthur, \"I take wondrous comfort when I\nremember your manhood and virtues, seeing you always so valiant and\npraiseworthy. In the past you have accomplished great things, but day\nby day your prowess grows to the full, abating the pride of all who\nset themselves against you. When I call to mind and consider that\nBritain, in our day, is the lady of so many and so far lands by reason\nof you and your fellows, I rejoice mightily, mightily I boast thereof,\nand in my God and you right humbly do I put my trust. God grant that\nyou may do more marvellous works than ever you have wrought, and that\nyour orb has not yet reached its round. Lords, your valiance and\nmanhood have conquered these Romans twice already. My heart divines\nthe decree of fate that you will overthrow them once again. Three\ntimes then have we discomfited these Romans. You have smitten down the\nDanes; you have abated Norway, and vanquished the French. France we\nhold as our fief in the teeth of the Roman power. Right easily should\nyou deal with the varlet, who have overborne so many and such perilous\nknights. The Romans desire to make Britain their province, to grow fat\nwith our tribute, and to bring France once more to their allegiance\nFor this cause they have ransacked the east, and carried hither these\nstrange, outland people, who amaze Christendom, to fight in their\nquarrel. Be not fearful of their numbers. Ten christened men are worth\na hundred of such paynims. The battle will be less a battle, than\na tournament of dames. Have therefore good trust in God, and be\nconfident of the issue. We shall deal with them lightly, so only we\nshow a little courage. Well I am assured what each of you will do this\nday, and how he will bear him in the melley. For my part I shall be\nin the four quarters of the field, and with every one of my legions.\nWhere the press is thickest, where the need most dire, my Dragon shall\nraise his crest\"\n\nWhen the proud words were ended which Arthur rehearsed in the ears of\nhis people, the host made answer with one loud voice. Not a man of\nthem all, who hearkened to his speech, but replied that he loved\nbetter to be stark upon the field, than to know himself vanquished at\nthe end. The whole host was mightily moved together. They defied the\nfoe, they promised with oaths to bear them like men, and there were\nthose who wept. Such tears were not shed by reason of fearfulness. It\nwas the weeping of men who were utterly purposed never to fail their\nking.\n\nNow Lucius, the emperor, was born in Spain, of a valiant and noble\nstock. He was in the most comely flower of his age, having more than\nthirty years, but less than forty. He was a proven knight, of high\ncourage, who had done great deeds already. For such feats of arms the\nRoman senate had chosen him to be their emperor. Lucius rose early in\nthe morning, purposing to set forth from Langres to Autun His host\nwas now a great way upon the road, when tidings were brought of the\nstratagem Arthur had practised against him. The emperor knew well that\neither he must fight or retreat. Go back he would not, lest any deemed\nhim fearful. Moreover, should the Britons follow after, their triumph\nwas assured, for how may soldiers bear them with a stout heart, who\nflee already from the field! Lucius called about him his kings, his\nprinces, and his dukes. He drew together his wisest counsellors, and\nthe most crafty captains of his host. To these he spake, and to the\nbravest of his legions, numbering one hundred thousand men and more\nbesides. \"Hearken, gentle lords,\" cried Lucius, \"give ear, ye liege\nmen, fair conquerors, honest sons of worthy sires, who bequeathed you\nso goodly an inheritance. By reason of your fathers' glorious deeds,\nRome became the empery of the world. That she will remain whilst one\nonly Roman breathes. Great as is the glory of your fathers who subdued\nthis empire, so great will be the shame of their sons in whose day\nit is destroyed. But a valiant father begets a valiant son. Your\nancestors were gentle knights, and you do them no wrong. Not one of\nyou but comes of hardy stock, and the sap rises in your blood like\nwine. Let every man strive valiantly this day to be what his father\nwas in his. Remember the grief that will be his lot who loses his\nheritage, and whose cowardice gives to another what he holds of his\nfather's courage. But I know, and am persuaded, that you will maintain\nyour portions. Bold as were the dead, so bold are the living, and I\nspeak to knights who are mighty men of valour. Lords, the road is shut\nwhich would lead us to Autun. We cannot wend our way till we have\nforced the gate. I know not what silent thief, or picker, or sturdy\nknave, has closed the road by which we fared. He deems that I shall\nflee, and abandon the realm like a dropped pouch. He is wrong. If\nI went back it was but to lure him on. Now that he has arrayed his\nbattle against you, brace your harness and loosen your swords. If the\nBriton awaits us, he shall not be disappointed of his hope. Should he\nflee he shall find us on his track. The time is come to put bit and\nbridle in the jaws of this perilous beast, and to hinder him from\nfurther mischief.\"\n\nThe Romans hastened to get to their arms, for they were passing eager\nto fight. They arrayed and embattled the host, setting the sergeants\nin rank and company, and forming the columns in due order. The Romans\nwere a mingled fellowship. Divers outland kings, and many paynim and\nSaracens, were mixed with the Christian folk, for all these people\nowned fealty to Rome, and were in the service of the emperor. By\nthirties and forties, by fifties, by sixties, by hundreds and by\nlegions, the captains apparelled the battle. In troops and in\nthousands the horsemen pricked to their appointed place. Multitudes\nof spearmen, multitudes of riders, were ranged in close order, and\nby hill and valley were despatched against Arthur's host. One mighty\ncompany, owning fealty to Rome and employed in the service of the\nemperor, descended within the valley. Another great company assaulted\nthe Britons where they lay. Thereat broke forth a loud shrilling of\nclarions and sounding of trumpets, whilst the hosts drew together. As\nthey approached, the archers shot so deftly, the spearmen launched\ntheir darts so briskly, that not a man dared to blink his eye or to\nshow his face. The arrows flew like hail, and very quickly the melley\nbecame yet more contentious. There where the battle was set you might\nmark the lowered lance, the rent and pierced buckler. The ash staves\nknapped with a shriek, and flew in splinters about the field. When the\nspear was broken they turned to the sword, and plucked the brand from\nits sheath. Right marvellous was the melley, and wondrously hideous\nand grim. Never did men hew more mightily with the glaive. Not a man\nwho failed at need; not a man of them all who flinched in the press;\nnot one who took thought for his life. The sword smote upon the\nbuckler as on an anvil. The earth shuddered beneath the weight of the\nfighting men, and the valley rang and clanged like a smithy with the\ntumult. Here a host rushed furiously against a legion which met it\nwith unbroken front. There a great company of horsemen crashed with\nspears upon a company as valiant as itself. Horse and rider went down\nbefore the adversary, arrows flew and darts were hurled; lances were\nsplintered and the sword shattered upon the covering shield. The\nstrong prevailed against the weak, and the living brought sorrow to\nthe dead. Horses ran madly about the field, with voided saddles,\nbroken girths, and streaming mane. The wounded pitied their grievous\nhurts, choosing death before life; but the prayer of their anguish was\nlost in the tumult and the cries. Thus for a great while the two hosts\ncontended mightily together, doing marvellous damage, one to the\nother. Neither Roman nor Briton could gain ground, so that no man knew\nwho would triumph in the end. Bedevere and Kay considered the battle.\nThey saw that the Romans held themselves closely. They were filled\nwith anger at the malice of the Romans, and led their company to that\nplace where the press was the most perilous. Ah, God, but Arthur had\nmen for his seneschal and cupbearer. Knights of a truth were these\nwho sat at his table. Kay and Bedevere smote like paladins with their\nbrands of steel. Many fair deeds had they done, but none so fair as\nthey did that day. They divided the forefront of the battle, and\ncleaving a passage with the sword, opened a road for their fellows.\nThe Britons followed after, taking and rendering many strokes, so\nthat divers were wounded and many slain. Blood ran in that place like\nwater, and the dead they lay in heaps. Bedevere adventured deeper into\nthe melley, giving himself neither pause nor rest. Kay came but a\nstride behind, beating down and laying low, that it was marvellous to\nsee. The two companions halted for a breathing space, turning them\nabout to encourage their men. Great was the praise and worship they\nhad won, but they were yet desirous of honour. They were over anxious\nfor fame, and their courage led them to rashness. In their hope of\ndestroying the Romans, they took no heed to their own safety. They\ntrusted beyond measure in their strength, and in the strength of their\ncompany. There was a certain pagan, named Bocus, King of the Medes.\nHe was a rich lord in his land, and captain of a strong legion. Bocus\nhastened his men to the battle, for he was fearful of none, however\nperilous the knight. When the two hosts clashed together the\ncontention was very courteous, and the melley passing well sustained.\nPagan and Saracen were set to prove their manhood against Angevins and\nthe folk of Beauce. King Bocus took a sword, and discomfited the two\npaladins. May his body rot for his pains. He thrust Bedevere through\nthe breast, so fiercely that the steel stood out beyond his back.\nBedevere fell, for his heart was cloven. His soul went its way. May\nJesus take it in His keeping! Kay lighted upon Bedevere lying dead.\nSince he loved him more than any living man, he was determined the\npagans should not triumph over his body. He called around him as many\nmen as he might, and did such deeds that the Medians fled before him,\nleaving the Britons on the field. Sertorius, King of Libya, beheld\nthis adventure, and was passing wroth. He had with him a great company\nof pagans whom he had carried from his realm. Sertorius, hot with\nanger, drew near, and dealt much mischief to his adversaries. He\nwounded Kay to the death, and slew the best of his men. Mauled as he\nwas with many grim strokes, Kay guarded his comrade's body. He set it\namidst his men, and carried the burthen from the press, fighting as\nthey went. With him, also, he bore Arthur's banner, the golden Dragon,\nlet the Romans rage as they would. Now Hiresgas, the nephew of\nBedevere, loved his uncle passing well. He sought his kinsfolk and\nfriends, and gathered to his fellowship some three hundred men. This\ncompany wore helmet and hauberk and brand, and rode fair destriers,\nfierce and right speedy. Hiresgas ordered his house for the battle.\n\"Come now with me,\" said he to his friends, \"and crave the price\nof blood.\" Hiresgas drew near that place where Bocus, King of the\nMedians, displayed his banner. When Hiresgas beheld his enemy he\nbecame as a man possessed. He cried the battle cry of Arthur, and\ntogether with his company charged terribly upon Bocus. He had but one\nonly thought, to avenge his uncle's death. Hiresgas and his fellows\nburst amongst the Medians with lowered lances and covering shields.\nThey slew many, and flung many others from their saddles. They rode\nover the fallen, trampling them beneath the hoofs of the horses, till\nthey reached the very cohort of that king who had slain Sir Bedevere.\nMounted on strong destriers the bold vassals followed after Hiresgas,\nwheeling to right or left, as he led, till they pierced to the\ngonfalon, showing the arms of the king. Hiresgas spied his foe. He\nturned his horse, and pushing through the press, drew near, and smote\nBocus full on the helm. The baron was a mighty man; the stroke\nwas fierce, and his blade was keen and strong. He struck well and\ncraftily. The blow sheared through helmet and coif. It divided the\nhead to the shoulders, so that the soul of King Bocus sped away to the\nAdversary. Hiresgas stretched out his arm, seizing the body ere it\nmight fall to the ground. He set his enemy before him on his horse,\nand held him fast, the limbs hanging on either side. Then he made his\nway from the stour, the dead man uttering neither lamentation nor cry.\nThe knight was grim, and his war-horse mighty. His kinsfolk gathered\nbehind him, that the Medians should do him no mischief. By the aid of\nhis fellows he won out of the battle, and carried his burthen to the\nvery place where his uncle lay. There, joint by joint, he hacked\nKing Bocus asunder. When his task was ended, Sir Hiresgas called his\ncomrades about him. \"Come,\" said he, \"come, true men's sons, to the\nslaying of these Romans. Romans! nay, cutpurses, rather, whoresons,\npaynims who have neither trust in God, nor faith in our true religion.\nRome has brought them from the east for the destruction of our lives\nand our kin. On then, friends, let us wipe out these pagans, the\npagans, and such renegade Christians as have joined them to slay\nChristendom more surely. Forward, to sharpen your manhood upon them.\"\nHiresgas led his household back to the battle. Tumult and shouting\nfilled the plain. Helmet and brand glittered in the sun, but the steel\noften was dulled with blood, or was shattered on the shield. The fair\nduke, Guitard of Poitiers, bore him as a valiant man. He held his own\nstoutly against the King of Afric. The two lords contended together,\nhand to hand, but it was the King of Afric died that day. Guitard\npassed across his body, smiting down many Africans and Moors. Holdin,\nDuke of the Flemings, was a wise prince, circumspect and sober in\ncounsel. He strove with the legion of Aliphatma, a King of Spain.\nThe two princes fought one with the other, in so great anger, that\nAliphatma was wounded to the death, and Holdin was in no better case.\nLigier, Earl of Boulogne, ran a course with the King of Babylon. I\nknow not who was the fairer knight, for both were shocked from their\nseats. Dead upon the field lay earl and king alike. With Ligier were\nslain three other earls, masters of many carles in their own lands.\nUrgent, Lord of Bath, Balluc, Earl of Guitsire, and Earl Cursa of\nChester, warden of the marches of Wales, perished in a little space,\nso that their men were sorely grieved. The company which followed\nafter their pennons flinched in the press. It gave back before the\nRomans, and fled for shelter to the legion which had Gawain for its\ncaptain, and with him Hoel, his fair friend and companion. Two such\nchampions you would not find, search the whole world through. Never\nhad knighthood seen their peers for courtesy and kindliness, as for\nWisdom and chivalry.\n\nNow Hoel was captain of the men of Brittany. His fellowship were proud\nand debonair. They were reckless of danger to such a degree that they\nneither cared nor feared to whom they were opposed. As one man they\ncharged, and as one man they pierced through the foe. The men of\nBrittany swept down on the Romans, who were pursuing their comrades,\nand trampling them under in thousands. They put them speedily to the\nrightabout, and rode over many in their turn. Ah!, for the griding of\ntheir swords, and, ah!, for the captives who were taken. The company\nhurtled on, till they drew to the golden eagle which was the gonfalon\nof the emperor. Lucius, himself, was very near his pennon, and with\nhim the flower of his meinie, the gentle men and gallant knights of\nRome. Then angels and men witnessed so mortal an encounter, as never\nI deem was beheld of any, since time began. Chinmark, Earl of Tigel,\nrode in Hoel's cohort. He was a great baron, and wrought much mischief\nto his adversaries. His day was come, for a Roman, mean of his\nstation, and fighting on his feet, flung a javelin at his body, so\nthat he died. With the earl perished two thousand of the Britons,\nevery man hardier than his fellows. There, too, were slain three other\nearls. Jagus, to his loss, had come from Boloan. The second was hight\nCecormanus, the third, Earl Boclonius. Few indeed of Arthur's barons\nmight compare with these lords in valour and worth. Had they been sons\nof kings, who were but earls, the story of their gestes would be sung\nby the minstrels, as I deem, about the world, so marvellous were their\nfeats. These three fair lords raged wondrously amongst the Romans.\nNot one who came to their hands but gasped out his life, whether by\nlance-thrust or sword. They forced a path to the eagle of the emperor,\nbut the bearers arrayed themselves against them, and cutting them off\nfrom their companions, slew them amidst their foes. Hoel and Gawain,\nhis cousin, were distraught with anger when they regarded the mischief\ndealt them by the Romans. To avenge their comrades, to wreak damage\nupon their adversaries, they entered amongst them as lions in the\nfield. They smote down and did much havoc to their adversaries,\ncleaving a way with many terrible blows of their swords. The Romans\ndefended their bodies to the death. If strokes they received, strokes\nthey rendered again. They opposed themselves stoutly to those who\nwere over against them, and were as heroes contending with champions.\nGawain was a passing perilous knight. His force and manhood never\nfailed, so that his strength was unabated, and his hand unwearied in\nbattle. He showed his prowess so grimly that the Romans quailed before\nhim. Gawain sought the emperor in every place, because of his desire\nto prove his valour. He went to and fro, seeking so tirelessly and\ndiligently, that at the last he found. The captains looked on the\nother's face. The emperor knew again the knight, and Gawain remembered\nLucius. The two hurtled together, but each was so mighty that he fell\nnot from his horse. Lucius, the emperor, was a good knight, strong\nand very valiant. He was skilled in all martial exercises and of much\nprowess. He rejoiced greatly to adventure himself against Gawain,\nwhose praise was so often in the mouths of men. Should he return\nliving from the battle, sweetly could he boast before the ladies\nof Rome. The paladins strove with lifted arm and raised buckler.\nMarvellous blows they dealt with the sword. They pained themselves\ngreatly, doing all that craft might devise to bring the combat to an\nend. Neither of them flinched, nor gave back before the other. Pieces\nwere hewn from the buckler, and sparks flew from the brands. They\njoined together, smiting above and thrusting under, two perfect\nknights, two gentle paladins, so fierce and so terrible, that had they\nbeen left to themselves very quickly must one have come to a fair end.\n\nThe Roman legions recovered from the panic into which they had fallen.\nThey ranged themselves beneath the golden eagle, and brought succour\nto the emperor at the moment of his utmost need. The legions swept\nthe Britons before them, and won again the field from which they\nwere driven. Arthur watched the fortunes of the day. He marked the\ndiscomfiture of his host, and hearkened to the triumphant shouts of\nthe legionaries. He could not, and dared not, wait longer. Arthur\nhastened with his chosen company to the battle. He rallied the rout,\ncrying to the fleeing sergeants, \"Whom seek you? Turn about, for it\nwere better to be slain of the Romans than by your king. I am Arthur,\nyour captain, and mortal man shall not drive me from the field. Follow\nme, for I will open a road, and beware lest the maidens of Britain\nhold you as recreant. Call to mind your ancient courage, by which you\nhave overcome so many proud kings. For my part I will never go from\nthis field alive, till I have avenged me on my adversaries.\" Arthur\ndid wondrously in the eyes of all the people. He struck many a Roman\nto the ground. Shield, and hauberk, and helmet he hewed asunder,\nheads, arms, and gauntlets were divided by his sword. Excalibur waxed\nred that day, for whom Arthur smote he slew. I cannot number the count\nof his blows, and every blow a death. For as the ravenous lion deals\nwith his prey, so likewise did the fair king raven amongst his\nenemies. Not one he spared, he turned aside from none. That man he\nwounded required no surgeon for his hurt. All the press gave back\nbefore so stark a champion, till in his path stood neither great nor\nsmall. The King of Libya--Sertorius to name--was a lord exceeding\nrich. Arthur struck the head from his shoulders. \"In an ill hour you\ndrew from the east to bear arms in this quarrel, and to furnish drink\nfor Excalibur\". But the dead man answered never a word. Polybetes,\nKing of Bithyma, fought upon his feet. This was a pagan lord, and\npassing rich. Arthur found the paynim before him. He smote but one\nmarvellous blow, and divided his head to the shoulders. Polybetes\ncrashed to the earth. His soul rushed from his body, and his brains\nwere spattered about the field. \"Roman, speed to your doom,\" cried\nArthur loudly, in the hearing of all. When the Britons beheld Arthur's\ndeeds, and hearkened to his high words, they took courage and charged\nupon the Romans. The Romans met them boldly with sword and spear,\ndoing them many and great mischiefs. When Arthur saw that the battle\nwas stayed, he increased in valour, and did yet more dreadfully with\nExcalibur. He slew and cast down divers, so that the ground was\ncumbered with the fallen. Lucius, the emperor, for his part, was not\nbackward in the melley, and avenged himself grievously on the Britons.\nEmperor and king, for all their seeking, might not come together.\nThis was heavy upon them, for each was a very courteous champion. The\nbattle rolled this way and that, since the contention was passing\nperilous. The Romans did well, nor might the Britons do better. A\nthousand men came swiftly to their deaths, for the two hosts arrayed\nthemselves proudly one against the other, and strove right scornfully.\nNot a judge on earth could declare which host should be vanquished,\nnor what man of them all would come victor and quick from the tourney.\n\nNow Mordup, Earl of Gloucester, was constable of the bailly Arthur\nhad hidden on a high place within a wood. Mordup remembered Arthur's\ncounsel that should evil befall, and the battle draw back to the wood,\nhe must charge boldly on his adversaries. Mordup rode from his hiding\nwith a company of six thousand six hundred and sixty-six riders, clad\nin gleaming helmets and coats of mail, and carrying sharp lances and\nswords. These drew down the hillside, unnoticed of the Romans, and\ncoming out on their rear, charged hotly on the legion. The legion was\naltogether discomfited. Its ranks were pierced, its order was broken,\nwith the loss of more than one thousand men. The Britons rode amongst\nthe Romans, parting each from his fellow, trampling the fallen beneath\nthe horses' hoofs, and slaying with the sword. The Romans could\nendure no longer, for the end of all was come. They broke from their\ncompanies, and fled fearfully down the broad road, climbing one upon\nthe other in their haste. There Lucius, the emperor, fell on death,\nbeing smitten in the body by a spear. I cannot tell who smote him\ndown, nor of whose lance he was stricken. He was overtaken in the\npress, and amongst the dead he was found slain. Beneath the thickest\nof the battle he was discovered, dead, and the hurt within his breast\nwas dealt him by a spear.\n\nThe Romans and their fellows from the east fled before the pursuers,\nbut the Britons following after did them sore mischief. They waxed\nweary of slaying, so that they trod the Romans underfoot. Blood ran in\nrunnels, and the slain they lay in heaps. Fair palfreys and destriers\nran masterless about the field, for the rider was dead, and had\nneither joy nor delight in the sun. Arthur rejoiced and made merry\nover so noble a triumph, which had brought the pride of Rome to the\ndust. He gave thanks to the King of Glory, who alone had granted him\nthe victory. Arthur commanded search to be made about the country for\nthe bodies of the slain, whether they were friend or foe. Many he\nburied in the self-same place, but for the others he carried them to\ncertain fair abbeys, and laid them together to rest. As for the body\nof Lucius, the emperor, Arthur bade it to be held in all honour, and\ntended with every high observance. He sealed it in a bier, and sent it\nworshipfully to Rome. At the same time he wrote letters to the senate\nthat no other truage would he pay them for Britain, which he guarded\nas his realm. If truage they yet required, then truage they should\nreceive coined in the very mint. Kay, who was wounded to death in the\nbattle, was carried to Chinon, the castle he had builded, and called\nafter his own name. There he was interred in a holy hermitage,\nstanding in a little grove, near by the city. Bedevere was brought to\nBayeux in Normandy, a town of his lordship. He was lain in the ground\nbeyond the gate, looking over towards the south. Holdin was borne to\nFlanders, and buried at Tervanna. Ligier was buried at Boulogne.\n\nArthur, for his part, sojourned all through the winter in Burgundy,\ngiving peace and assurance to the land. He purposed when summer was\ncome to pass the mountains, and get him to Rome. He was hindered in\nhis hope by Mordred, of whose shame and vileness you shall now hear.\nThis Mordred was the king's kin, his sister's very son, and had\nBritain in his charge. Arthur had given the whole realm to his care,\nand committed all to his keeping. Mordred did whatever was good in his\nown eyes, and would have seized the land to his use. He took homage\nand fealty from Arthur's men, demanding of every castle a hostage. Not\ncontent with this great sin he wrought yet fouler villainy. Against\nthe Christian law he took to himself the wife of the king. His uncle's\nqueen, the dame of his lord, he took as wife, and made of her his\nspouse.\n\nThese tidings were carried to Arthur. He was persuaded that Mordred\nobserved no faith towards him, but had betrayed the queen, stolen his\nwife, and done him no fair service. The king gave half his host to\nHoel, committing Burgundy and France to his hand. He prayed him to\nkeep the land shut from its foes till he came again in peace. For\nhimself he would return to Britain, to bring the kingdom back to its\nallegiance, and to avenge himself on Mordred, who had served his wife\nand honour so despitefully. Britain, at any cost, must be regained,\nfor if that were lost all the rest would quickly fall a prey. Better\nto defer for a season the conquest of Rome, than to be spoiled of his\nown realm. In a little while he would come again, and then would go\nto Rome. With these words Arthur set forth towards Wissant, making\ncomplaint of the falseness of Mordred, who had turned him away from\nhis conquest; for the warships lay at Wissant ready for sea.\n\nMordred learned of Arthur's purpose. He cared not though he came, for\npeace was not in his heart. He sent letters to Cheldric of Saxony,\npraying him to sail to his aid. The Saxon came with seven hundred\ngalleys, furnished with all manner of store, and laden with fighting\nmen. Mordred plighted faith that so Cheldric would help him with all\nhis power, he would grant him the land from beyond Humber to the\nmarches of Scotland, besides all the land in Kent that Hengist held of\nVortigern's gift, when the king espoused Rowena. Mordred and Cheldric\ngathered together a right fair company. Counting Saxon pagans and\nchristened men there assembled sixty thousand riders on horses,\nin coats of mail. Mordred numbered his army with a quiet mind. He\nconsidered he was so strong as to drive Arthur from any haven. Let\ncome what might he would never abandon his spoil. For him there was no\nplace for repentance, yea, so black was his sin that to proffer peace\nwould be but a jest. Arthur saw to the harness of his men. He got them\non the ships, a multitude whom none could number, and set forth to\nRomney, where he purposed to cast anchor. Arthur and his people had\nscarcely issued from the galleys, when Mordred hastened against him\nwith his own men, and those folk from beyond the sea who had sworn\nto fight in his quarrel. The men in the boats strove to get them to\nshore; whilst those on the land contended to thrust them deeper in\nthe water. Arrows flew and spears were flung from one to the other,\npiercing heart and bowels and breast of those to whom they were\naddressed. The mariners pained themselves mightily to run their boats\naground. They could neither defend themselves, nor climb from the\nships, so that those were swiftly slain who struggled to land. Often\nthey staggered and fell, crying aloud; and in their rage they taunted\nthose as traitors who hindered them from coming on shore. Ere the\nships could be unladen in that port, Arthur suffered wondrous loss.\nMany a bold sergeant paid the price with his head. There, too, was\nGawain, his nephew, slain, and Arthur made over him marvellous sorrow;\nfor the knight was dearer to his heart than any other man. Aguisel was\nkilled at Gawain's side; a mighty lord, and very helpful at need. Many\nothers also were slain, for whom Arthur, the courteous prince, felt\nsore dolour. So long as Mordred kept the shipmen from the sand, he\nwrought them much mischief. But when Arthur's sergeants won forth from\nthe boats, and arrayed them in the open country, Mordred's meinie\nmight not endure against them. Mordred and his men had fared richly\nand lain softly overlong. They were sickly with peace. They knew not\nhow to order the battle, neither to seek shelter nor to wield arms,\nas these things were known to Arthur's host, which was cradled and\nnourished in war. Arthur and his own ravened amongst them, smiting\nand slaying with the sword. They slew them by scores and by hundreds,\nkilling many and taking captive many more. The slaughter was very\ngrievous, by reason of the greatness of the press. When daylight\nfailed, and night closed on the field, Arthur ceased from slaughter,\nand called his war hounds off. Mordred's host continued their flight.\nThey knew not how they went, nor whither; for there was none to lead\nthem, and none took heed to his neighbour. Each thought of himself,\nand was his own physician. Mordred fled through the night to London,\nwhere he hoped to find succour. He leaned on a reed, for the citizens\nwould not suffer him to enter in their gates. He turned from the city,\nand passing the fair water of the Thames, rode to Winchester without\nstay. Mordred sought refuge at Winchester, and tarrying awhile,\nsummoned his friends to his side. He took hostages and sureties from\nthe citizens, that peace and faith should be observed between them,\nand that they would maintain his right. Arthur might find no rest\nby reason of the hatred he bore to Mordred. Great grief was his for\nAguisel and Gawain, the friends whom he had lost. He sorrowed heavily\nabove his nephew, and offered him seemly burial, though in what place\nI cannot tell. The chronicles are silent, and meseems there is not a\nman who knows where Gawain was laid[1], nor the name of him who slew\nhim with the sword. When Arthur had performed these fitting rites he\ngave himself over to his wrath, considering only in what way he could\ndestroy Mordred.\n\n[Footnote 1: The grave of Gawain was fabled to be in Pembrokeshire.]\n\nHe followed after the traitor to Winchester, calling from every part\nhis vassals as he went. Arthur drew near the city, and lodged his host\nwithout the walls. Mordred regarded the host which shut him fast.\nFight he must, and fight he would, for the army might never rise up\ntill he was taken. Once Arthur had him in his grip well he knew he was\nbut a dead man. Mordred gathered his sergeants together, and bade them\nget quickly into their armour. He arrayed them in companies, and came\nout through the gates to give battle to the pursuers. Immediately he\nissued from the barriers the host ran to meet him. The contention was\nvery grievous, for many were smitten and many overthrown. It proved\nbut an ill adventure to Mordred, since his men were not able to stay\nagainst their adversaries. Mordred was persuaded that for him there\nwas only one hope of safety, for his trespass was beyond forgiveness,\nand much he feared the king. He assembled privily the folk of his\nhousehold, his familiar friends, and those who cherished against\nArthur the deepest grudge. With these he fled over by-ways to\nSouthampton, leaving the rest of his people to endure as they could.\nAt the port he sought pilots and mariners. These he persuaded by gifts\nand fair promises straightway to put out to sea, that he might escape\nfrom his uncle. With a favourable wind the shipmen carried him to\nCornwall. Mordred feared exceedingly for his life, and rejoiced\ngreatly to begone.\n\nKing Arthur besieged Winchester strictly. At the end he took burgesses\nand castle. To Yvain, son of Urian, a baron beloved of the court,\nArthur granted Scotland as a heritage. Yvain paid homage for the gift.\nOf old Aguisel claimed lordship in the realm, but he was dead, leaving\nneither son nor dame to come before Yvain. This Yvain was a right\nworshipful knight, worthy, and of passing great valour. Very sweetly\nwas he praised of many.\n\nThat queen, who was Arthur's wife, knew and heard tell of the war that\nwas waged by Mordred in England. She learned also that Mordred had\nfled from before the king, because he might not endure against him,\nand durst not abide him in the field. The queen was lodged at York, in\ndoubt and sadness. She called to mind her sin, and remembered that for\nMordred her name was a hissing. Her lord she had shamed, and set her\nlove on her husband's sister's son. Moreover, she had wedded Mordred\nin defiance of right, since she was wife already, and so must suffer\nreproach in earth and hell. Better were the dead than those who lived,\nin the eyes of Arthur's queen. Passing heavy was the lady in her\nthought. The queen fled to Caerleon. There she entered in a convent\nof nuns, and took the veil. All her life's days were hidden in this\nabbey. Never again was this fair lady heard or seen; never again was\nshe found or known of men. This she did by reason of her exceeding\nsorrow for her trespass, and for the sin that she had wrought.\n\nMordred held Cornwall in his keeping, but for the rest the realm\nhad returned to its allegiance. He compassed sea and land to gather\nsoldiers to his banner. Saxon and Dane, the folk of Ireland and\nNorway, Saracen and pagan, each and all of them who hated Arthur\nand loathed his bondage, Mordred entreated to his aid. He promised\neverything they would, and gave what he could, like a man whom\nnecessity drives hard. Arthur was sick with wrath that he was not\navenged of Mordred. He had neither peace nor rest whilst the traitor\nabode in his land. Arthur learned of Mordred's strength in Cornwall,\nand this was grievous to him. His spies brought tidings of the snares\nthat Mordred spread, and the king waxed heavier thereat. Arthur sent\nafter his men to the very Humber. He gathered to himself so mighty\na host that it was as the sand for multitude. With this he sought\nMordred where he knew he could be found. He purposed to slay and make\nan end of the traitor and his perjury alike. Mordred had no desire to\nshrink from battle. He preferred to stake all on the cast, yea, though\nthe throw meant death--rather than be harried from place to place.\nThe battle was arrayed on the Camel, over against the entrance to\nCornwall. A bitter hatred had drawn the hosts together, so that they\nstrove to do each other sore mischief. Their malice was wondrous\ngreat, and the murder passing grim. I cannot say who had the better\npart. I neither know who lost, nor who gained that day. No man wists\nthe name of overthrower or of overthrown. All are alike forgotten, the\nvictor with him who died. Much people were slain on either side, so\nthat the field was strewn with the dead, and crimson with the blood\nof dying men. There perished the brave and comely youth Arthur had\nnourished and gathered from so many and far lands. There also the\nknights of his Table Round, whose praise was bruited about the whole\nworld. There, too, was Mordred slain in the press, together with the\ngreater part of his folk, and in the selfsame day were destroyed the\nflower of Arthur's host, the best and hardiest of his men. So the\nchronicle speaks sooth, Arthur himself was wounded in his body to the\ndeath. He caused him to be borne to Avalon for the searching of his\nhurts. He is yet in Avalon, awaited of the Britons; for as they say\nand deem he will return from whence he went and live again. Master\nWace, the writer of this book, cannot add more to this matter of his\nend than was spoken by Merlin the prophet. Merlin said of Arthur--if\nI read aright--that his end should be hidden in doubtfulness.\nThe prophet spoke truly. Men have ever doubted, and--as I am\npersuaded--will always doubt whether he liveth or is dead. Arthur bade\nthat he should be carried to Avalon in this hope in the year 642 of\nthe Incarnation. The sorer sorrow that he was a childless man. To\nConstantine, Cador's son, Earl of Cornwall, and his near kin, Arthur\ncommitted the realm, commanding him to hold it as king until he\nreturned to his own. The earl took the land to his keeping. He held it\nas bidden, but nevertheless Arthur came never again.","title":"Arthurian Chronicles: Roman de Brut","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":59516}