{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_31900/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_31900","id":"gutenberg_31900","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/31900","summary":null,"tags":["Arthurian Legends","Arthurian romances","Category: British Literature","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Malory, Thomas, Sir, active 15th century. Morte d'Arthur -- Adaptations"],"text":"E-text prepared by Christine Aldridge and the Project Gutenberg Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)\n\n\n\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n file which includes the original illustrations.\n See 31900-h.htm or 31900-h.zip:\n (https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/31900/pg31900-images.html)\n or\n (https://www.gutenberg.org/files/31900/31900-h.zip)\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\n Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).\n\n Minor punctuation errors have been corrected.\n\n A complete list of spelling corrections and notations\n is located at the end of this text.\n\n\n\n\n\n\u00c9dition d'\u00c9lite\n\nHISTORICAL TALES\n\nThe Romance of Reality\n\nby\n\nCHARLES MORRIS\n\nAuthor of \"Half-Hours with the Best American Authors,\" \"Tales\nfrom the Dramatists,\" etc.\n\nIn Fifteen Volumes\n\nVOLUME XIII\n\nKing Arthur\n\n1\n\n\nJ. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY\n\nPHILADELPHIA AND LONDON\n\n\nCopyright, 1891, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.\n\nCopyright, 1904, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.\n\nCopyright, 1908, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n[Illustration: FURNESS ABBEY.]\n\n\n\n\n CONTENTS OF VOLUME I.\n\n\n BOOK I.\n\n HOW ARTHUR WON THE THRONE.\n\n CHAPTER. PAGE.\n\n I.--THE MAGIC SWORD 19\n\n II.--ARTHUR'S WARS AND THE MYSTERY OF HIS BIRTH 28\n\n III.--THE LADY OF THE LAKE 39\n\n IV.--GUENEVER AND THE ROUND TABLE 46\n\n\n BOOK II.\n\n THE DEEDS OF BALIN.\n\n I.--HOW BALIN WON AND USED THE ENCHANTED SWORD 55\n\n II.--HOW ARTHUR TRIUMPHED OVER THE KINGS 65\n\n III.--HOW BALIN GAVE THE DOLOROUS STROKE 72\n\n IV.--THE FATE OF BALIN AND BALAN 81\n\n V.--MERLIN'S FOLLY AND FATE 89\n\n\n BOOK III.\n\n THE TREASON OF MORGAN LE FAY.\n\n I.--THE ADVENTURE OF THE ENCHANTED SHIP 94\n\n II.--THE COMBAT OF ARTHUR AND ACCOLAN 102\n\n III.--HOW MORGAN CHEATED THE KING 110\n\n IV.--THE COUNTRY OF STRANGE ADVENTURES 120\n\n\n BOOK IV.\n\n LANCELOT DU LAKE.\n\n I.--HOW TROUBLE CAME TO LIONEL AND HECTOR 137\n\n II.--THE CONTEST OF THE FOUR QUEENS 143\n\n III.--HOW LANCELOT AND TURQUINE FOUGHT 153\n\n IV.--THE CHAPEL AND PERILOUS 164\n\n V.--THE ADVENTURE OF THE FALCON 174\n\n\n BOOK V.\n\n THE ADVENTURES OF BEAUMAINS.\n\n I.--THE KNIGHTING OF KAY'S KITCHEN BOY 179\n\n II.--THE BLACK, THE GREEN, AND THE RED KNIGHTS 187\n\n III.--THE RED KNIGHT OF THE RED LAWNS 201\n\n IV.--HOW BEAUMAINS WON HIS BRIDE 212\n\n\n BOOK VI.\n\n TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE AND THE FAIR ISOLDE.\n\n I.--HOW TRISTRAM WAS KNIGHTED 238\n\n II.--LA BELLA ISOLDE 249\n\n III.--THE WAGER OF BATTLE 258\n\n IV.--THE DRAUGHT OF LOVE 267\n\n V.--THE PERILS OF TRUE LOVE 275\n\n VI.--THE MADNESS OF SIR TRISTRAM 289\n\n\n BOOK VII.\n\n HOW TRISTRAM CAME TO CAMELOT.\n\n I.--TRISTRAM AND DINADAN 304\n\n II.--ON THE ROAD TO THE TOURNAMENT 312\n\n III.--AT THE CASTLE OF MAIDENS 322\n\n IV.--THE QUEST OF THE TEN KNIGHTS 335\n\n V.--THE KNIGHT WITH THE COVERED SHIELD 345\n\n\n\n\n LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.\n\n KING ARTHUR. VOL. I.\n\n\n PAGE\n\n FURNESS ABBEY _Frontispiece_.\n\n STATUE OF KING ARTHUR AT INNSBRUCK 24\n\n KING ARTHUR'S FAIR LOVE 48\n\n KING ARTHUR'S TOMB 70\n\n MERLIN AND NIMUE 89\n\n THE GREAT FOREST 94\n\n NIMUE 105\n\n THE LOVE OF PELLEAS AND NIMUE 134\n\n DREAM OF SIR LANCELOT 139\n\n OLD ARCHES OF THE ABBEY WALL 149\n\n KING ARTHUR'S ROUND TABLE, WINCHESTER CATHEDRAL 179\n\n BEAUMAINS, DAMSEL, AND DWARF 213\n\n THE JOYOUS WEDDING 235\n\n SIR TRISTRAM HARPING TO ISOLDE 250\n\n A CASTLE OF CORNWALL 258\n\n TRISTRAM AND THE FAIR ISOLDE 273\n\n THE CLIFFS ABOVE THE SEA 288\n\n TINTAGIL KING ARTHUR'S CASTLE 302\n\n TRISTRAM THEREUPON DEPARTED TO HIS PAVILION 325\n\n ADMISSION OF SIR TRISTRAM TO THE KING OF THE\n ROUND TABLE 359\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTORY.\n\n\nGeoffrey of Monmouth, the famous chronicler of legendary British\nhistory, tells us,--in reference to the time when the Celtic kings of\nBritain were struggling against the Saxon invaders,--that \"there\nappeared a star of wonderful magnitude and brightness, darting its rays,\nat the end of which was a globe of fire in the form of a dragon, out of\nwhose mouth issued two rays; one of which seemed to stretch itself\nbeyond the extent of Gaul, the other towards the Irish Sea, and ended in\ntwo lesser rays.\" He proceeds to say, that Merlin, the magician, being\ncalled on to explain this portent, declared that the dragon represented\nUther, the brother of King Ambrose, who was destined himself soon to\nbecome king; that the ray extending towards Gaul indicated a great son,\nwho should conquer the Gallic Kingdoms; and that the ray with two lesser\nrays indicated a daughter, whose son and grandson should successively\nreign over Britain. Uther, in consequence, when he came to the throne,\nhad two gold dragons made, one of which he placed in the cathedral of\nWinchester, which it brightly illuminated; the other he kept, and from\nit gained the name of _Pendragon_. The powerful ray represented his\ngreat son Arthur, destined to become the flower of chivalry, and the\nfavorite hero of medi\u00e6val romance.\n\nThis is history as Geoffrey of Monmouth understood it, but hardly so in\nthe modern sense, and Arthur remains as mystical a figure as Achilles,\ndespite the efforts of various writers to bring him within the circle of\nactual kings. After the Romans left Britain, two centuries passed of\nwhose history hardly a coherent shred remains. This was the age of\nArthur, one of the last champions of Celtic Britain against the\ninflowing tide of Anglo-Saxon invasion. That there was an actual Arthur\nthere is some, but no very positive, reason to believe. After all the\nevidence has been offered, we still seem to have but a shadowy hero\nbefore us, \"a king of shreds and patches,\" whose history is so pieced\nout with conjecture that it is next to impossible to separate its facts\nfrom its fancies.\n\nThe Arthur of the legends, of the Welsh and Breton ballads, of the later\n_Chansons de Geste_, of Malory and Tennyson, has quite stepped out of\nthe historic page and become a hero without time or place in any real\nworld, a king of the imagination, the loftiest figure in that great\noutgrowth of chivalric romance which formed the favorite fictitious\nliterature of Europe during three or four of the medi\u00e6val centuries.\nCharlemagne, the leading character in the earlier romances of chivalry,\nwas, in the twelfth century, replaced by Arthur, a milder and more\nChristian-like hero, whose adventures, with those of his Knights of the\nRound Table, delighted the tenants of court and castle in that\nmarvel-loving and uncritical age. That the stories told of him are all\nfiction cannot be declared. Many of them may have been founded on fact.\nBut, like the stones of a prehistoric wall, their facts are so densely\nenveloped by the ivy of fiction that it is impossible to delve them out.\n\nThe ballads and romances in which the King Arthur of medi\u00e6val story\nfigures as the hero, would scarcely prove pleasant and profitable\nreading to us now, however greatly they delighted our ancestors. They\nare marked by a coarseness and crudity which would be but little to our\ntaste. Nor have we anything of modern growth to replace them. Milton\nentertained a purpose of making King Arthur the hero of an epic poem,\nbut fortunately yielded it for the nobler task of \"Paradise Lost.\"\nSpenser gives this hero a minor place in his \"Fairie Queen.\" Dryden\nprojected a King Arthur epic, but failed to write it. Recently Bulwer\nhas given us a cumbersome \"King Arthur,\" which nobody reads; and\nTennyson has handled the subject brilliantly in his \"Idyls of the King,\"\nsplendid successes as poems, yet too infiltrated with the spirit of\nmodernism to be acceptable as a reproduction of the Arthur of romance.\nFor a true rehabilitation of this hero of the age of chivalry we must go\nto the \"Morte Darthur\" of Sir Thomas Malory, a writer of the fifteenth\ncentury, who lived when men still wore armor, and so near to the actual\nage of chivalry as to be in full sympathy with the spirit of its\nfiction, and its pervading love of adventure and belief in the magical.\n\nMalory did a work of high value in editing the confused mass of earlier\nfiction, lopping off its excrescences and redundancies, reducing its\ncoarseness of speech, and producing from its many stories and episodes\na coherent and continuous narrative, in which the adventures of the\nRound Table Knights are deftly interwoven with the record of the birth,\nlife, and death of the king, round whom as the central figure all these\nknightly champions revolve. Malory seems to have used as the basis of\nhis work perhaps one, perhaps several, old French prose romances, and\npossibly also material derived from Welsh and English ballads. Such\nmaterial in his day was doubtless abundant. Geoffrey had drawn much of\nhis legendary history from the ancient Welsh ballads. The mass of\nromantic fiction which he called history became highly popular, first in\nBrittany, and then in France, the Trouveres making Arthur, Lancelot,\nTristram, Percival, and others of the knightly circle the heroes of\ninvolved romances, in which a multitude of new incidents were invented.\nThe Minnesingers of Germany took up the same fruitful theme, producing a\n\"Parzivale,\" a \"Tristan and Isolt,\" and other heroic romances. From all\nthis mass of material, Malory wrought his \"Morte Darthur,\" as Homer\nwrought his \"Iliad\" from the preceding warlike ballads, and the unknown\ncompiler of the \"Nibelungenlied\" wrought his poem from similar ancient\nsources.\n\nMalory was not solely an editor. He was in a large sense a creator. It\nwas coarse and crude material with which he had to deal, but in his\nhands its rude prose gained a degree of poetic fervor. The legends which\nhe preserves he has in many cases transmuted from base into precious\ncoin. There is repulsive matter in the old romances, which he freely\ncuts out. To their somewhat wooden heroes he gives life and character,\nso that in Lancelot, Gawaine, Dinadan, Kay, and others we have to deal\nwith distinct personalities, not with the non-individualized\nhard-hitters of the romances. And to the whole story he gives an epic\ncompleteness which it lacked before. In the early days of Arthur's reign\nMerlin warns him that fate has already woven its net about him and that\nthe sins of himself and his queen will in the end bring his reign to a\nviolent termination, and break up that grand fellowship of the Round\nTable which has made Britain and its king illustrious. This epic\ncharacter of Malory's work is pointed out in the article \"Geoffrey of\nMonmouth\" in the \"Encyclop\u00e6dia Britannica,\" whose writer says that the\nArthurian legends \"were converted into a magnificent prose poem by Sir\nThomas Malory in 1461. Malory's _Morte Darthur_ is as truly _the_ epic\nof the English mind as the _Iliad_ is the epic of the Greek mind.\"\n\nYet the \"Morte Darthur,\" if epic in plan and treatment, is by no means\nfree from the defects of primitive literature. It was written before the\nage of criticism, and confusion reigns supreme in many of its pages,--a\nconfusion which a very little critical supervision might have removed.\nAs an instance, we find that Galahad, two years after his birth, is made\na knight, being then fifteen years old. In like manner the \"seat\nperilous\" at the Round Table is magically reserved for Galahad, the\nauthor evidently forgetting that he had already given it to Percivale.\nKing Mark's murder of his brother Baldwin is revenged by Baldwin's\ngrandson, thirty or forty years afterward, though there is nothing to\nshow that the characters had grown a year older in the interval. Here a\nknight finds one antagonist quite sufficient for one man; there he does\nnot hesitate to attack fifty at once; here a slight wound disables him;\nthere a dozen deep wounds are fully healed by a night's rest. Many\nsimilar instances might be given, but these will suffice. The\ndiscrepancies here indicated were perhaps due to the employment of\ndiverse legends, without care to bring them into accordance, but they\nlay the work open to adverse criticism.\n\nThis lack of critical accuracy may have been a necessary accompaniment\nof the credulous frame of mind that could render such a work possible.\nIt needed an artlessness of mental make-up, a full capacity for\nacceptance of the marvellous, a simple-minded faith in chivalry and its\ndoings, which could scarcely exist in common with the critical\ntemperament. In truth, the flavor of an age of credulity and simplicity\nof thought everywhere permeates this quaint old work, than which nothing\nmore artless, simple, and unique exists in literature, and nothing with\na higher value as a presentation of the taste in fiction of our medi\u00e6val\npredecessors.\n\nYet the \"Morte Darthur\" is not easy or attractive reading, to other than\nspecial students of literature. Aside from its confusion of events and\narrangement, it tells the story of chivalry with a monotonous lack of\ninflection that is apt to grow wearisome, and in a largely obsolete\nstyle and dialect with whose difficulties readers in general may not\ncare to grapple. Its pages present an endless succession of single\ncombats with spear and sword, whose details are repeated with wearisome\niteration. Knights fight furiously for hours together, till they are\ncarved with deep wounds, and the ground crimsoned with gore. Sometimes\nthey are so inconsiderate as to die, sometimes so weak as to seek a\nleech, but as often they mount and ride away in philosophical disregard\nof their wounds, and come up fresh for as fierce a fight the next day.\n\nAs for a background of scenery and architecture, it scarcely exists.\nDeep interest in man and woman seems to have shut out all scenic\naccessories from the mind of the good old knight. It is always but a\nstep from the castle to the forest, into which the knights-errant\nplunge, and where most of their adventures take place; and the favorite\nresting-and jousting-place is by the side of forest springs--or wells,\nas in the text. We have mention abundant of fair castles, fair valleys,\nfair meadows, and the like, the adjective \"fair\" going far to serve all\nneeds of description. But in his human characters, with their loves and\nhates, jousts and battles, bewitchments and bewilderments, the author\ntakes deep interest, and follows the episodical stories which are woven\ninto the plot with a somewhat too satisfying fulness. In evidence of the\ndramatic character of many of these episodes we need but refer to the\n\"Idyls of the King,\" whose various romantic and tragic narratives are\nall derived from this quaint \"old master\" of fictitious literature.\n\nWith all its faults of style and method, the \"Morte Darthur\" is a very\nlive book. It never stops to moralize or philosophize, but keeps\nstrictly to its business of tale-telling, bringing up before the reader\na group of real men and women, not a series of lay-figures on a\nbackground of romance, as in his originals.\n\nKay with his satirical tongue, Dinadan with his love of fun, Tristram\nloving and noble, Lancelot bold and chivalrous, Gawaine treacherous and\nimplacable, Arthur kingly but adventurous, Mark cowardly and\nbase-hearted, Guenever jealous but queenly, Isolde tender and faithful,\nand a host of other clearly individualized knights and ladies move in\nrapid succession through the pages of the romance, giving it, with its\nmanners of a remote age, a vital interest that appeals to modern tastes.\n\nIn attempting to adapt this old masterpiece to the readers of our own\nday, we have no purpose to seek to paraphrase or improve on Malory. To\nremove the antique flavor would be to destroy the spirit of the work. We\nshall leave it as we find it, other than to reduce its obsolete\nphraseology and crudities of style to modern English, abridge the\nnarrative where it is wearisomely extended, omit repetitions and\nuninteresting incidents, reduce its confusion of arrangement, attempt a\nmore artistic division into books and chapters, and by other arts of\neditorial revision seek to make it easier reading, while preserving as\nfully as possible those unique characteristics which have long made it\ndelightful to lovers of old literature.\n\nThe task here undertaken is no light one, nor is success in it assured.\nMalory has an individuality of his own which gives a peculiar charm to\nhis work, and to retain this in a modernized version is the purpose with\nwhich we set out and which we hope to accomplish. The world of to-day\nis full of fiction, endless transcripts of modern life served up in a\ngreat variety of palatable forms. Our castle-living forefathers were not\nso abundantly favored. They had no books,--and could not have read them\nif they had,--but the wandering minstrel took with them the place of the\nmodern volume, bearing from castle to court, and court to castle, his\nbudget of romances of magic and chivalry, and delighting the\nhard-hitting knights and barons of that day with stirring ballads and\nwarlike tales to which their souls rose in passionate response.\n\nIn the \"Morte Darthur\" is preserved to us the pith of the best of those\nold romances, brought into a continuous narrative by one who lived when\nchivalry yet retained some of its vital hold on the minds of men, and\nwho, being a knight himself, could enter with heartfelt sympathy into\nthe deeds of the knights of an earlier age. Certainly many of the\nreaders of modern fiction will find a pleasure in turning aside awhile\nfrom the hot-pressed thought of the nineteenth-century novel to this\nfresh and breezy outcrop from the fiction of an earlier day; with the\ndouble purpose of learning on what food the minds of our ancestors were\nfed, and of gaining a breath of wild perfume from the far-off field of\nthe romance of chivalry. That the story of Arthur and his Knights can\narouse in modern readers the intense interest with which it was received\nby medi\u00e6val auditors is not to be expected. We are too far removed in\ntime and manners from the age of knight-errantry to enter deeply into\nsympathy with its unfamiliar ways. Yet a milder interest may still be\nawakened in what gave our predecessors such enthusiastic delight, and\nsome at least may turn with pleasure from the most philosophic of modern\nnovels to wander awhile through this primitive domain of thought.\n\nTo such we offer this work, which we have simply sought to make easy\nreading, with little further liberty with Malory's quaint prose than to\nput it into a modern dress, and with the hope that no such complete\ndivorce exists between the world of the present and that of the past as\nto render the exploits of King Arthur and his Round Table Knights dull,\nwearisome, and profitless reading, void of the human interest which they\nonce possessed in such large and satisfying measure.\n\n\n\n\n KING ARTHUR\n AND THE\n KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE.\n\n\n\n\n BOOK I.\n\n HOW ARTHUR WON THE THRONE.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE MAGIC SWORD.\n\n\nOnce upon a time, in that far-off and famous era of chivalry and\nknight-errantry when wandering knights sought adventures far and wide\nthroughout the land, and no damsel in distress failed to enlist a\nvaliant champion in her cause, there reigned over England's broad realm\na noble monarch, King Arthur by name, the flower of chivalry, and the\nfounder of the world-renowned order of Knights of the Round Table. It is\nthe story of this far-famed monarch, and of the wonderful and valorous\ndeeds of his Knights, that we here propose to tell, as preserved in the\nancient legends of the land, and set forth at length in the chronicles\nof the days of chivalry.\n\nBefore the days of Arthur the King, there reigned over all England Uther\nPendragon, a monarch of might and renown. He died at length in years\nand honor, and after his death anarchy long prevailed in the land, for\nno son of his appeared to claim the throne, and many of the lords who\nwere high in rank and strong in men sought to win it by force of arms,\nwhile everywhere lawlessness and wrong-doing made life a burden and\nwealth a deceit.\n\nBut by good fortune there still survived the famous magician Merlin, the\nmaster of all mysteries, who long had been the stay of Uther's throne,\nand in whose hands lay the destiny of the realm. For after years of\nanarchy, and when men had almost lost hope of right and justice, Merlin,\nforeseeing that the time for a change was at hand, went to the\nArchbishop of Canterbury, and bade him summon to London by Christmas day\nall the lords of the realm and the gentlemen of arms, for on that day a\nmiracle would be shown by which would be decided who should be ruler of\nthe kingless realm.\n\nThe summons was issued, and by Christmas-tide many lords and knights,\nthe flower of England's chivalry, had gathered in London, most of them\nfull of ambition and many of them buoyed up by hope. In the greatest\nchurch of that city prayers went up night and day, all who had been\nguilty of wrong-doing seeking to clear their souls of sin; for all\nbelieved that only through God's grace could any man come to dominion in\nthe realm, and those who aspired to the throne ardently sought to make\ntheir peace with God.\n\nOn Christmas day, after the hour of matins and the first mass, came the\nmiracle which Merlin had predicted; for there suddenly appeared before\nthe high altar in the church-yard a great four-square block of stone,\nof the texture of marble, upon which stood an anvil of steel a foot in\nheight; and through the anvil and deep into the stone was thrust a\ngleaming sword, upon which, in letters of gold, ran these words, \"Whoso\npulleth this sword out of this stone is of right born king of all\nEngland.\"\n\nWhether Merlin performed this strange thing by magic, or it was a\nmiracle of God's will, the chronicles say not, but all who saw it deeply\nmarvelled, and word of it was brought to the archbishop in the church.\n\n\"Let no man stir,\" he enjoined. \"This is God's doing, and must be dealt\nwith gravely and solemnly. I command that all stay within the church and\npray unto God until the high mass be done. Till then let no hand touch\nthe sword.\"\n\nAnd so the service went on until its end; but after it was done the\naudience hastened to behold the miracle, and some of the higher lords,\nwho were ambitious for the throne, laid eager hold upon the sword and\nsought with all their strength to draw it. Yet all in vain they tugged;\nthe mightiest among them could not stir the deep-thrust blade.\n\n\"The man is not here,\" said the archbishop, \"who shall draw that sword;\nbut God, in His own good season, will make him known. This, then, is my\ncounsel: let us set ten knights, men of fame and honor, to guard the\nsword, and let every man that has faith in his good fortune seek to draw\nit. He who is the destined monarch of England will in time appear.\"\n\nNew Year's day came, and no man yet had drawn the sword, though many\nhad adventured. For that day the barons had ordered that a stately\ntournament should be held, in which all knights who desired to break a\nlance for God and their ladies might take part. This was greeted with\nhigh acclaim, and after the services of the day had ended the barons and\nknights together rode to the lists, while multitudes of the citizens of\nLondon crowded thither to witness the knightly sports. Among those who\nrode were Sir Hector, a noble lord, who held domains in England and\nWales, and with him his son Sir Kay, a new-made knight, and his younger\nson Arthur, a youth still too young for knighthood.\n\nAs they rode together to the lists, Kay discovered that he had forgotten\nhis sword, having left it behind at his father's lodging. He begged\nyoung Arthur to ride back for it.\n\n\"Trust me to bring it,\" replied Arthur, readily, and turning his horse\nhe rode briskly back to his father's lodging in the city. On reaching\nthe house, however, he found it fast locked, all its inmates having gone\nto the tournament. The young man stood a moment in anger and indecision.\n\n\"My brother Kay shall not be without a sword,\" he said. \"I remember\nseeing in the church-yard a handsome blade thrust into a stone, and\nseeming to want an owner. I shall ride thither and get that sword. It\nwill serve Kay's turn.\"\n\nHe accordingly turned his horse and rode back in all haste. On reaching\nthe church-yard he found no knights there, all those who had been placed\non guard having gone to the jousting, exchanging duty for sport.\nDismounting and tying his horse, he entered the tent which had been\nerected over the stone. There stood the magic sword, its jewelled hilt\nand half the shining blade revealed. Heedless of the inscription on the\npolished steel, and ignorant of its lofty promise,--for the miracle had\nbeen kept secret by the knights,--young Arthur seized the weapon\nstrongly by the hilt and gave the magic sword a vigorous pull. Then a\nwondrous thing happened, which it was a pity there were none to see; for\nthe blade came easily out of stone and steel, as though they were\nyielding clay, and lay naked in his hand. Not knowing the might and\nmeaning of what he had done, and thinking of naught but to keep his\nword, the young man mounted his horse and rode to the field, where he\ndelivered the sword to his brother Sir Kay.\n\n\"I have brought your sword,\" he said.\n\nThe young knight started with surprise on beholding the blade, and gazed\non it with wonder and trepidation. It was not his, he knew, and he\nrecognized it at sight for the magic blade. But ambition quickly\nbanished the wonder from his heart, and he rode hastily to his father,\nSir Hector, exclaiming,--\n\n\"Behold! Here is the sword of the stone! I that bear it am the destined\nking of England's realm.\"\n\nSir Hector looked at him in doubt, and beheld the blade he bore with\ndeep surprise.\n\n\"When and how did you obtain it?\" he demanded. \"Back to the church! Come\nwith us, Arthur. Here is a mystery that must be explained.\"\n\nReaching the church, he made Kay swear upon the book how he came by that\nweapon, for greatly he doubted.\n\n\"I have not said I drew it,\" Kay replied, sullenly. \"In truth, it was\nnot achieved by me. Arthur brought me the sword.\"\n\n\"Arthur!\" cried the lord. \"Arthur brought it! How got you it, boy?\"\n\n\"I pulled it from the stone,\" replied the youth. \"Kay sent me home for\nhis sword, but the house was empty and locked; and as I did not wish my\nbrother to be without a weapon, I rode hither and pulled this blade out\nof the stone. Was there aught strange in that? It came out easily\nenough.\"\n\n\"Were there no knights about it?\"\n\n\"None, sir.\"\n\n\"Then the truth is plain. God's will has been revealed. You are the\ndestined king of England.\"\n\n\"I?\" cried Arthur, in surprise. \"Wherefore I?\"\n\n\"God has willed it so,\" repeated the baron. \"But I must first learn for\nmyself if you have truly drawn the sword. Can you put it back again?\"\n\n\"I can try,\" said Arthur, and with an easy thrust he sunk the blade\ndeeply into the stone.\n\nThen Sir Hector and Kay pulled at the hilt with all their strength, but\nfailed to move the weapon.\n\n\"Now you shall try,\" they said to Arthur.\n\nThereupon the youth seized the hilt, and with a light effort the magic\nsword came out naked in his hand.\n\n\"You are our king!\" cried Sir Hector, kneeling on the earth, and Kay\nbeside him.\n\n\"My dear father and brother,\" cried Arthur in surprise and distress,\n\"why kneel you to me? Rise, I pray; it pains me deeply to see you thus.\"\n\n[Illustration: STATUE OF KING ARTHUR AT INNSBRUCK.]\n\n\"I am not your father nor of your kindred,\" rejoined the baron. \"I must\nnow reveal the secret I long have kept. You were brought to me in\ninfancy, and I and my wife have fostered you as our own. But you are no\nson of mine. Who you truly are I cannot say; that only Merlin the\nmagician knows. But well I feel assured you are of nobler blood than I\ncan boast.\"\n\nThese words filled Arthur with heartfelt pain. He had long revered the\nworthy knight as his father, and it grieved him deeply to learn that\nthose whom he had so warmly loved were not of kin to him.\n\n\"Sir,\" said Hector, \"will you be my good and gracious lord when you are\nking?\"\n\n\"You, my father, and your good lady, my mother,--to whom else in all the\nworld am I so beholden?\" rejoined Arthur, warmly. \"God forbid that I\nshould fail you in whatever you may desire, if by His will and grace I\nshall be made king.\"\n\n\"This only I ask of you,\" said the baron: \"that you make Kay, my son and\nyour foster-brother, the seneschal of all your lands.\"\n\n\"By the faith of my body, I promise,\" said Arthur. \"No man but he shall\nhave that office while he and I live.\"\n\nThese words said, Sir Hector went to the archbishop and told him, much\nto his surprise, of the marvel that had been performed. By the advice of\nthe prelate it was kept secret until Twelfth Day, when the barons came\nagain, and another effort was made to draw the sword.\n\nAfter all had tried and failed, Arthur was brought forward, and while\nmany sneered at his youth and asked why a boy had been brought thither,\nhe seized the hilt and lightly drew the blade from the stone. Then all\nstood aghast in wonder, marvelling greatly to see a youth perform the\nfeat which the strongest knights in the kingdom had attempted in vain;\nbut many beheld it with bitter anger and hostile doubt.\n\n\"Who is this boy?\" they cried. \"What royal blood can he claim? Shall we\nand the realm of England be shamed by being governed by a base-born\nchurl? There is fraud or magic in this.\"\n\nSo high ran the tide of adverse feeling that the archbishop finally\ndecided that another trial should be had at Candlemas, ten knights\nmeanwhile closely guarding the stone. And when Candlemas day arrived\nthere came many more great lords, each eager for the throne; but, as\nbefore, of all there none but Arthur could draw the magic sword.\n\nAgain was there envy and hostility, and another trial was loudly\ndemanded, the time being fixed for Easter. This ended as before, and at\nthe demand of the angry lords a final trial was arranged for the feast\nof Pentecost. The archbishop now, at Merlin's suggestion, surrounded\nArthur with a bodyguard of tried warriors, some of whom had been Uther\nPendragon's best and worthiest knights; for it was feared that some of\nhis enemies might seek to do him harm. They were bidden to keep watch\nover him day and night till the season of Pentecost, for there were\nlords that would have slain him had they dared.\n\nAt the feast of Pentecost lords and knights gathered again, but in vain\nthey all essayed to draw the magic sword. Only to the hand of Arthur\nwould it yield, and he pulled it lightly from the stone and steel in the\npresence of all the lords and commons. Then cried the commons in loud\nacclaim,--\n\n\"Arthur shall be our king! We will have none to reign over us but him!\nLet there be no more delay. God has willed that he shall be England's\nking, and he that holdeth out longer against the will of God that man\nshall we slay.\"\n\nThen rich and poor alike kneeled before Arthur, hailed him as king, and\ncraved his pardon for their long delay. He forgave them freely, and\ntaking the sword between his hands, laid it upon the altar before the\narchbishop. This done, he was made a knight by the worthiest warrior\nthere, and thus taken into that noble fellowship of chivalry which he\nwas destined by his valor and virtue to so richly adorn.\n\nShortly afterward Arthur was crowned king, with great pomp and ceremony,\nbefore a noble assemblage of the lords and ladies of the realm, taking\nsolemn oath at the coronation to be true king to lords and commons, and\nto deal justice to all while he should live.\n\nJustice, indeed, was greatly and urgently demanded, for many wrongs had\nbeen done since the death of King Uther, and numerous complaints were\nlaid before the throne. All these evils Arthur redressed, forcing those\nwho had wrongfully taken the lands of others to return them, and\ndemanding that all should submit to the laws of the realm. In compliance\nwith his promise, Sir Kay was made seneschal of England, while other\nknights were appointed to the remaining high offices of the realm, and\nall the needs of the kingdom duly provided for. Thus the famous reign of\nKing Arthur auspiciously began, with God's and man's blessing upon its\nearly days.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nARTHUR'S WARS AND THE MYSTERY OF HIS BIRTH.\n\n\nAfter Arthur was crowned king he removed into Wales, where he gave\norders that a great feast should be held on the coming day of Pentecost,\nat the city of Carlion. On the day appointed for the feast there\nappeared before Carlion the Kings of Lothian and Orkney, Gore, Garloth,\nCarados, and Scotland, each with a large following of knights. Their\ncoming greatly pleased King Arthur, who believed that they desired to do\nhonor to his reign, and he sent presents of great value to them and to\ntheir knights.\n\nThese they disdainfully refused, sending back a hostile challenge by the\nmessenger, and saying that they had not come to receive gifts from a\nbeardless boy, of ignoble blood, but to present him gifts with hard\nswords between neck and shoulder. It was a shame, they said, to see such\na boy at the head of so noble a realm, and this wrong should be\nredressed at their hands.\n\nOn receiving this defiant message, Arthur threw himself, with five\nhundred good men, into a strong tower near Carlion, for he was ill\nprepared for attack. There he was closely besieged by his foes, but the\ncastle was well victualled, and held out stoutly against its assailants.\n\nDuring the siege Merlin appeared suddenly among the kings, and told them\nprivately who Arthur really was, assuring them that he was of nobler\nblood than themselves, and was destined long to remain king of England,\nand to reduce Scotland, Ireland, and Wales to his sway. Some of the\nhostile monarchs believed the magician's story, but others doubted it,\nKing Lot of Orkney laughing him to scorn, while some among them called\nhim a prating wizard.\n\nBut it was agreed that they should hold a conference with Arthur, they\npromising if he came out to them to place no hindrance to his safe\nreturn. Merlin then sought the king and advised him to accept the\nconference, telling him that he had nothing to fear. Thereupon Arthur\narmed himself, and taking with him the Archbishop of Canterbury and\nseveral noble knights, went out boldly to meet his foes.\n\nThe conference was an angry and bitter one, the kings speaking strongly,\nand Arthur answering them with stout words of defiance, in which he told\nthem plainly that if he lived he would make them bow to his throne. In\nthe end they parted in wrath, the kings returning to their camp and\nArthur to the tower.\n\n\"What do you propose to do?\" said Merlin to the kings. \"If you take a\nwise man's advice you will withdraw, for I tell you that you shall not\nprevail here, were you ten times as many.\"\n\n\"We are not the men to be advised by a dream-reader,\" answered King Lot.\n\"If you are the wise man you say, you will take yourself away.\" At this\nreply Merlin magically vanished from among them, and immediately\nappeared to King Arthur in the tower, bidding him boldly to sally forth\nand attack his enemies, and trust to fortune and valor for success.\nMeanwhile three hundred of the best knights of the kings had deserted\ntheir ranks and come to join him, much to his comfort, for he had been\ngreatly outnumbered.\n\n\"Sir,\" said Merlin, \"fight not with the sword that you had by miracle,\ntill you see things go to the worst; then draw it out and strike\nshrewdly for your throne.\"\n\nThese words said, Arthur sallied from the tower at the head of all his\nknights, and fell fiercely on the besiegers in their camp. All went down\nbefore his bold assault, the hosts of the hostile kings retreating in\ndismay. Great deeds were done that day, Sir Kay and other knights\nslaying all before them, while Arthur laid on nobly, and did such\nmarvellous feats of arms that all who saw him wondered greatly, for\nuntil now he had been an untried youth. While the combat thus went on in\nArthur's favor in front, King Lot and others of the kings made a detour\nand set fiercely upon his force from the rear, causing momentary dismay\nin his ranks. But Arthur wheeled alertly with his knights, and smote\nvigorously to right and left, keeping always in the foremost press, till\nhis horse was slain beneath him, and he hurled to the ground.\n\nKing Lot took instant advantage of this, and with a mighty blow\nprostrated the unhorsed king. But his knights hastily surrounded him,\ndrove back his crowding foes, and set him on horseback again. And now\nKing Arthur drew the magic sword, and as he waved it in the air there\nflashed from it a gleaming lustre that blinded the eyes of his enemies.\nBack they went before him, many of them falling under his mighty blows,\nwhile his valiant knights followed hotly in the track of the flaming\nsword, and the enemy fled in panic fear.\n\nThen the people of Carlion, seeing the enemy in retreat, came out with\nclubs and staves, and fell upon the defeated host, killing numbers of\nthe dismounted knights; while the hostile kings, with such of their\nfollowers as remained alive, fled in all haste from the disastrous\nfield, leaving the victory to Arthur and his knights.\n\nThus ended in victory the first battle of Arthur's famous reign. It was\nbut the prelude to a greater one, the mighty deeds of which the\nchroniclers tell at great length, but of which we shall give but brief\nrecord. It was predicted by Merlin, who told the king that he should\nhave to fight far more strongly for his crown, that the defeated kings\nwould get others to join them, and would ere long proceed against him\nwith a mighty force.\n\n\"I warn you,\" he said to the king and his council, \"that your enemies\nare very strong, for they have entered into alliance with four other\nkings and a mighty duke, and unless our king obtain powerful allies he\nshall be overcome and slain.\"\n\n\"What then shall we do?\" asked the barons.\n\n\"I shall tell you,\" said Merlin. \"There are two brethren beyond the sea,\nboth kings, and marvellously valiant men. One of these is King Ban of\nBenwick, and the other King Bors of Gaul. These monarchs are at war with\na mighty warrior, King Claudas. My counsel then is, that our king ask\nthe aid of these monarchs in his wars, and engage in return to help them\nin their war with their foe.\"\n\n\"It is well counselled,\" said the king and his barons.\n\nAccordingly two knights with letters were sent across the seas, and\nafter various adventures reached the camp of Kings Ban and Bors. These\nvaliant monarchs gladly responded to Arthur's request, and, leaving\ntheir castles well guarded, came with ten thousand of their best men to\nthe aid of the youthful king. Then were held great feasts, and a noble\ntournament was given on All-hallowmas day, at which Sir Kay carried off\nthe honors of the lists and received the prize of valor.\n\nBut sport had soon to give place to war, for the hostile kings, now\neleven in all, with a host of fifty thousand mounted men and ten\nthousand footmen, were marching upon King Arthur's camp, then at the\nCastle of Bedegraine, in Sherwood forest.\n\nTwo nights before the hosts met in battle, one of the hostile leaders,\nknown as the king with the hundred knights, dreamed a wondrous dream. It\nseemed to him that there came a mighty wind, which blew down all their\ncastles and towns, and that then there came a great flood and carried\nall away. All who heard this dream said that it was a token of great\nbattle, but by its portent none were dismayed, for they felt too secure\nin their strength to heed the warning of a dream.\n\nSoon the two armies drew together, and encamped at no great distance\nasunder. Then, by advice of Merlin, a midnight attack was made by Arthur\nand his allies upon the host of the eleven kings, as they lay sleeping\nin their tents. But their sentinels were alert, the sound of the coming\nhost reached their wakeful ears, and loud the cry ran through the camp:\n\n\"To arms! lords and knights, to arms! The enemy is upon us! To arms! to\narms!\"\n\nOn like a wave of war came the force of Arthur, Ban, and Bors. The tents\nwere overthrown, and all the valor of the eleven kings was needed to\nsave their army from defeat. So fiercely went the assault that by\nday-dawn ten thousand of their men lay dead upon the field, while\nArthur's loss was but small.\n\nBy Merlin's advice, while it was yet dark the forces of Ban and Bors had\nbeen placed in ambush in the forest. Then Arthur, with his own army of\ntwenty thousand men, set fiercely on the overwhelming force of the foe,\nand deeds of mighty prowess were done, men falling like leaves, and many\nknights of tried valor staining the earth with their blood.\n\nFiercely went the combat, hand to hand and blade to blade, till the\nfield was strewn with the dead, while none could tell how the battle\nwould end. But when Kings Ban and Bors broke from their ambush, with ten\nthousand fresh men, the tide of battle turned against the foe. Back they\nwent, step by step, many of their men taking to flight, and hundreds\nfalling in death. King Bors did marvellous deeds of arms. King Ban,\nwhose horse was killed, fought on foot like an enraged lion, standing\namong dead men and horses, and felling all who came within reach of his\nsword. As for King Arthur, his armor was so covered with crimson stains\nthat no man knew him, and his horse went fetlock deep in blood.\n\nWhen night approached, the hostile force was driven across a little\nstream, the eleven warrior kings still valiantly facing the victorious\nfoe.\n\nThen came Merlin into the press of struggling knights, mounted on a\ngreat black horse, and cried to Arthur,--\n\n\"Wilt thou never have done? Of threescore thousand men this day thou\nhast left alive but fifteen thousand, and it is time to cry, Halt! I bid\nyou withdraw, for if you continue the battle fortune will turn against\nyou. As for these kings, you will have no trouble with them for three\nyears to come, for more than forty thousand Saracens have landed in\ntheir country, and are burning and despoiling all before them.\"\n\nThis advice was taken, and the defeated kings were allowed to withdraw\nthe remnant of their forces without further harm, while King Arthur\nrichly rewarded his allies and their knights from the treasure found in\nthe hostile camp.\n\nThus was King Arthur seated firmly on his throne. But who he was he knew\nnot yet, for the mystery that lay over his birth Merlin had never\nrevealed. After the battle Merlin went to his master Bleise, who dwelt\nin Northumberland, and told him the events of the mighty contest. These\nBleise wrote down, word by word, as he did the after-events of King\nArthur's reign, and the deeds of his valiant knights. And so was made\nthe chronicle of the great achievements of arms, and the adventures of\nerrant knights, from which this history is drawn.\n\nOf some things that Merlin further did we must here speak. While Arthur\ndwelt in the castle of Bedegraine, Merlin came to him so disguised that\nthe king knew him not. He was all befurred in black sheepskins, with a\ngreat pair of boots and a bow and arrows, and brought wild geese in his\nhand, as though he had been a huntsman.\n\n\"Sir,\" he said to the king, \"will you give me a gift?\"\n\n\"Why should I do so, churl?\" asked the king.\n\n\"You had better give me a gift from what you have in hand than to lose\ngreat riches which are now out of your reach; for here, where the battle\nwas fought, is great treasure hidden in the earth.\"\n\n\"Who told you that, churl?\"\n\n\"Merlin told me so.\"\n\nThen was the king abashed, for he now knew that it was Merlin who spoke,\nand it troubled him that he had not known his best friend.\n\nAfterward, on a day when Arthur had been hunting in the forest, and\nwhile he sat in deep thought over a strange dream he had dreamed and\nsome sinful deeds he had done, there came to him a child of fourteen\nyears, and asked him why he was so pensive.\n\n\"I may well be so,\" replied Arthur, \"for I have much to make me think.\"\n\n\"I know that well,\" said the seeming child, \"also who thou art and all\nthy thoughts. I can tell thee who was thy father and how and when thou\nwert born.\"\n\n\"That is false,\" rejoined the king. \"How should a boy of your years know\nmy father?\"\n\n\"He was Uther Pendragon, the king,\" replied the seeming boy, \"and you\nare of royal blood.\"\n\n\"How can you know that? I will not believe you without better proof,\"\nsaid Arthur.\n\nAt these words the child departed, but quickly after there came to the\nking an old man of fourscore years.\n\n\"Why are you so sad?\" asked the old man.\n\n\"For many things,\" replied Arthur. \"Here but now was a child who told me\nthings which it seems to me he could not know.\"\n\n\"He told you the truth,\" said the old man, \"and would have told you more\nif you had listened. This I am bidden to tell you, that you have done\nthings which have displeased God, and that your sister shall bear a son\nwho will destroy you and all the knights of your land. That is the\nmeaning of your dream in which griffons and serpents burnt and slew all\nbefore them, and wounded you to the death.\"\n\n\"Who are you,\" said Arthur, \"that tell me these things?\"\n\n\"I am Merlin,\" replied the old man. \"And I was the child who came to\nyou.\"\n\n\"You are a marvellous man,\" replied Arthur. \"But how can you know that I\nshall die in battle?\"\n\n\"How I know matters not, but this much more I am bidden to tell you:\nyour death will be a noble one; but I shall die a shameful death, and\nshall be put in the earth alive for my follies. Such is the voice of\ndestiny.\"\n\nWhile they conversed thus, horses were brought to the king, and he and\nMerlin mounted and rode to Carlion. Here Arthur told Sir Hector what he\nhad heard, and asked if it were true.\n\n\"I believe it to be the truth,\" answered the old baron. \"Merlin has told\nme that the child he brought to my castle was the son of King Uther\nPendragon and of Queen Igraine, his wife.\"\n\nBut Arthur was not yet convinced, and sent in all haste for Queen\nIgraine, who dwelt in a castle not far away, and came quickly with\nMorgan le Fay, her daughter, a fair lady, and one who had been taught\nall the arts of necromancy.\n\nThe king welcomed her with rich cheer, and made a feast in her honor,\nwithout saying why he had asked her to his court. But when the feast was\nat its height, Sir Ulfius, the chamberlain, and a knight of worth and\nhonor, rose in the midst, and boldly accused the queen of falsehood and\ntreason.\n\n\"Beware what you say,\" cried the king. \"Those are strong words, and this\nlady is my guest.\"\n\n\"I am well advised of what I say,\" replied Ulfius, \"and here is my glove\nto prove it upon any man who shall deny it. I declare that Queen Igraine\nis the cause of your great wars and of deep damage to your throne. Had\nshe told in the life of King Uther of the birth of her son you would\nhave been spared your wars, for most of your barons know not to-day of\nwhat blood you were born. Therefore I declare her false to God, to you,\nand to all your realm, and if any man shall say me nay I stand ready to\nprove it upon his body.\"\n\n\"I am a woman, and I may not fight,\" said Queen Igraine to this. \"But\nthere are men here will take my quarrel. Merlin will bear me witness\nthat it was King Uther's wish, for reasons of state, that the birth of\nmy child should be concealed, and if you seek a traitor you should\naccuse Uther Pendragon and not me. At its birth the child was wrapped in\ncloth of gold, by order of the king, and taken from me, and from that\nday to this I have not set eyes upon my son.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Ulfius, \"Merlin is more to blame than you.\"\n\n\"I bowed to the will of my husband,\" replied the queen. \"After the death\nof my lord, the Duke of Tintagil, King Uther married me, and I bore him\na son, but I know not what has become of my child.\"\n\nThen Merlin took the king by the hand and led him to Queen Igraine.\n\n\"This is your mother,\" he said.\n\nTherewith, Sir Hector bore witness how the child has been brought by\nMerlin to the postern gate of his castle, wrapped in cloth of gold, and\nhow he had reared him as his own son, knowing not who he was, but full\nsure he was of high birth.\n\nThese words removed all doubt from Arthur's mind, and with warm\naffection he took his mother in his arms, and kissed her lovingly, while\ntears of joy flowed freely from the eyes of mother and son, for never\nwas gladder meeting than that which there took place.\n\nFor eight days thereafter feasts and sports were held at the castle, and\ngreat joy fell upon all men to learn that the son of great Uther\nPendragon had come to the throne. And far and wide the story spread\nthrough the land that he who had drawn the magic sword was the rightful\nheir to England's crown.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTHE LADY OF THE LAKE.\n\n\nOn a day at the end of the feasts given by King Arthur in honor of his\nmother, there came into the court a squire, who bore before him on his\nhorse a knight that had been wounded unto death. He told how a stranger\nknight in the forest had set up a pavilion by a well, and forced all who\npassed to joust with him. This stranger had slain his master, and he\nbegged that some champion would revenge the slain knight.\n\nThen rose Griflet, a youthful squire who had done good service in the\nwars, and begged to be knighted, that he might undertake this adventure.\n\n\"Thou art but young for such a task,\" said Arthur.\n\n\"I beseech you for the honor of it,\" pleaded Griflet. \"I have done you\nknightly service.\"\n\nThereupon he was knighted and armed, and rode at day-dawn with a high\nheart into the forest. But by night-fall back he came, with a\nspear-thrust through his body, and scarce able to sit his horse for\nweakness. He had met the knight, and barely escaped with his life.\n\nThis angered the king, and he determined to undertake the adventure\nhimself, and to seek to punish the daring knight who had planted\nhimself, with hostile purpose, so near his court. By his order his best\narmor and horse were set before day at a point outside the city, and at\nday-dawn he met there his squire and rode with him secretly into the\nforest.\n\nOn the way thither he met three churls, who were chasing Merlin and\nseeking to slay him. The king rode to them and sternly bade them desist,\nand on seeing a knight before them they fled in craven fear.\n\n\"O Merlin,\" cried Arthur, \"for all your craft you would have been slain,\nhad I not come to your aid.\"\n\n\"Not so. I but played with these churls,\" said Merlin. \"I could have\nsaved myself easily enough. You are far more near your end than I, for\nunless God be your friend you ride to your death.\"\n\nAs they conversed they came to the forest fountain, and saw there a rich\npavilion, while under a cloth stood a fair horse, richly saddled and\nbridled, and on a tree was a shield of varied colors and a great spear.\nIn a chair near by sat an armed knight.\n\n\"How is it, sir knight,\" asked the king, sternly, \"that you abide here\nand force every knight that passes to joust with you? It is an ill\ncustom, and I bid you cease it.\"\n\n\"He who is grieved with my custom may amend it if he will,\" said the\nknight.\n\n\"I shall amend it,\" said Arthur.\n\n\"I shall defend it,\" replied the knight.\n\nWith these words they mounted, placed their spears in rest, and put\ntheir horses to their speed. Together they came in mid career with such\nviolence and equal fortune that both spears were shivered to splinters,\nbut both knights remained in their saddles. Taking new spears, once more\nthey rode, and once again met in mid course with the same fortune as\nbefore. Then Arthur set hand to his sword.\n\n\"Nay,\" said the knight. \"You are the best jouster of all the men I ever\nmet. For the love of the high order of knighthood let us break another\nspear.\"\n\n\"I agree,\" said Arthur.\n\nTwo more spears were brought them, and again they rode together with all\nthe might and speed of their horses. Arthur's spear once more shivered\ninto splinters from point to handle. But the knight struck him so fairly\nin the centre of his shield that horse and man together fell to the\nearth.\n\nThen Arthur drew his sword eagerly and cried:\n\n\"Sir knight, I have lost the honor of horseback, and will fight you on\nfoot.\"\n\n\"I will meet you on horse,\" replied the knight.\n\nAngry at this, Arthur advanced towards him with ready shield and sword.\nBut the knight, feeling that he was taking a noble adversary at unfair\nadvantage, dismounted, and advanced to meet Arthur on foot.\n\nThen began a mighty battle, in which many great sword-strokes were made,\nand much blood was lost by both antagonists. After the affray had long\ncontinued the two warriors by chance struck so evenly together that\ntheir swords met in mid air, and the weapon of the knight smote that of\nArthur into two pieces.\n\n\"You are in my power,\" cried the knight. \"Yield you as overcome and\nrecreant, or you shall die.\"\n\n\"As for death,\" said Arthur, \"it will be welcome when it comes, but I\nhad rather die than be so shamed.\"\n\nThus saying, he leaped upon his foeman, took him by the middle with a\nvigorous grip, and threw him to the earth. Then he tore off his helmet.\nThe knight, however, was much the larger and stronger man, and in his\nturn brought Arthur under him, deprived him of his helmet, and lifted\nhis sword to strike off his head.\n\nAt this perilous moment Merlin advanced.\n\n\"Knight, hold thy hand,\" he cried. \"You little know in what peril you\nput this realm, or who the warrior is beneath your sword.\"\n\n\"Who is he?\" asked the knight.\n\n\"He is King Arthur.\"\n\nThen would the knight have slain Arthur for fear of his wrath, and\nraised his sword again to do so, but at that moment Merlin threw him\ninto an enchanted sleep.\n\n\"What have you done, Merlin?\" cried Arthur. \"God grant you have not\nslain this worthy knight by your craft! I would yield a year of my\ndominion to have him alive again.\"\n\n\"Do not fear,\" said Merlin. \"He is asleep only, and will awake within\nthree hours. And this I shall tell you, there is not a stronger knight\nin your kingdom than he, and hereafter he will do you good service. His\nname is King Pellinore, and he shall have two noble sons, whose names\nwill be Percivale and Lamorak of Wales. And this brave knight shall, in\nthe time to come, tell you the name of that son of your sister who is\nfated to be the destruction of all this land.\"\n\nThis being said, the king and the magician departed, leaving the knight\nto his magic slumbers. Soon they reached the cell of a hermit who was a\nnoted leech, and who, with healing salves, in three days cured the\nking's wounds so that he was able to ride again. As they now went\nforward, through forest and over plain, Arthur said,--\n\n\"I have no sword. I shall be ill put to it should I meet a champion.\"\n\n\"Heed not that,\" said Merlin. \"That loss will be soon repaired.\"\n\nAnd so they rode till they came to a lake, a broad and fair sheet of\nwater, that stretched far before their eyes. As the king stood and\nlooked upon it, he saw in its midst, to his deep wonder, an arm clothed\nin white samite lift itself above the water, and in the hand appeared a\nglittering sword, that gleamed brightly in the sun's rays.\n\n\"Lo! yonder is the sword I spoke of,\" said Merlin.\n\nThen another wonder met their eyes, for a woman came walking towards\nthem upon the surface of the lake.\n\n\"What damsel is that?\" asked Arthur. \"And what means all this wondrous\nthing?\"\n\n\"That is the Lady of the Lake,\" said Merlin. \"Within that lake is a\ngreat rock, and therein is a palace as fair as any on the earth, and\nmost richly adorned, wherein this lady dwells. When she comes to you ask\nher in courtly phrase for the sword, for it is hers to give.\"\n\nSoon came the damsel to them and saluted Arthur, who courteously\nreturned her salutation.\n\n\"Fair lady,\" he said, \"what sword is it that yonder arm holds so\nstrangely above the water? I would it were mine, for I have lost my\nweapon.\"\n\n\"King Arthur,\" replied the damsel, \"the sword you see is mine. But it\nshall be yours if you will promise me a gift when I shall ask it of\nyou.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" rejoined Arthur, \"I will give you whatever gift you may\nask, if it be within reason and justice.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said the damsel, \"go into the barge you see yonder and row\nyourself to the sword, and take it and the scabbard. As for the gift, I\nshall bide my time to ask it.\"\n\nArthur and Merlin now alighted and entered the boat they saw near by,\nrowing it to where the arm in white samite held up the sword. Reaching\nboldly out, Arthur grasped the weapon by the handle, and at once the arm\nand hand disappeared beneath the water, leaving the wondrous blade in\nhis hand, and the scabbard with it.\n\nWhen they reached the land again the Lady of the Lake was gone, and so\nthey mounted and rode away from that place of magic. Then Arthur looked\nupon the sword and much he liked it, for the blade seemed to him of rare\npromise.\n\n\"Which like you the better, the sword or the scabbard?\" asked Merlin.\n\n\"The sword,\" answered Arthur.\n\n\"There you lack wisdom,\" said Merlin, \"for the scabbard is worth ten of\nthe sword. While you wear that scabbard you shall never lose blood,\nhowever sorely you be wounded, so take good heed to keep it always with\nyou.\"\n\nSo they rode unto Carlion, where Arthur's knights were glad enough to\nsee him, for his absence had greatly troubled them. And when they heard\nof his adventures they marvelled that he would risk his person so alone.\nBut all men of worship said that it was merry to be under a chieftain\nwho would take upon himself such adventures as poor knights loved to\nmeet.\n\nDuring the absence of the king a messenger had come to the court from\nKing Ryons of North Wales, who was also King of Ireland, and of many\nislands, bearing a message of most insulting purport. He said that King\nRyons had discomfited and overcome eleven kings, each of whom had been\nforced to do him homage in the following manner: each had sent him his\nbeard, and the king had trimmed his mantle with these kings' beards. But\nthere lacked one place on the mantle, and he therefore sent for King\nArthur's beard to complete the fringe. If it were not sent him he would\nenter the land and burn and slay, and never leave till he had head and\nbeard together.\n\n\"Well,\" said Arthur, \"you have said your message, and the most\nvillanous one it is that ever living man sent unto a king; you may see,\nmoreover, that my beard as yet is somewhat too young to serve as a\ntrimming to his mantle. This, then, you may tell your king. Neither I\nnor my lords owe him any homage. But if he shall not before many days do\nme homage on both his bended knees, by the faith of my body he shall\nlose his head, in requital for the shameful and discourteous message\nthat he has sent me. Bear you this answer to your king.\"\n\nAnd so the messenger departed.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nGUENEVER AND THE ROUND TABLE.\n\n\nAnd now we have to tell the story of how King Arthur got his fair wife\nGuenever, and how the Round Table was brought to England's realm.\n\nAfter the defeat of the eleven kings, Arthur had rescued King\nLeodegrance of Cameliard from King Ryons, and put the latter with all\nhis host to flight. And at the court of Leodegrance he saw his charming\ndaughter Guenever, whom he ever after loved.\n\nSo it fell upon a time that Arthur said to Merlin,--\n\n\"My barons give me no peace, but day by day insist that I shall take a\nwife. But whether I marry or not, I shall take no step without your\ncounsel and advice.\"\n\n\"Your barons counsel well,\" said Merlin. \"A man of your bounty and\nnobleness should not be without a wife. Is there any one woman that you\nlove beyond others?\"\n\n\"Yes, by my faith there is,\" said Arthur. \"I love Guenever, the daughter\nof King Leodegrance, of Cameliard, he who has in his house the Round\nTable, which you have told me he had of my father King Uther. This\ndamsel is the loveliest lady that I know, or could ever hope to find.\"\n\n\"Of her beauty and fairness no man can question,\" said Merlin. \"If your\nheart were not set, I could find you a damsel of beauty and goodness\nthat would please you as well. But where a man's heart is fixed there\nwill he turn against the counsel of wise and foolish alike.\"\n\n\"You speak the truth,\" said Arthur.\n\nCovertly, however, Merlin warned the king that Guenever would bring\ntrouble to his court and his heart, and counselled him to weigh well\nwhat he thought to do. But Arthur's love was warm, and the wise man's\ncounsel, as he had said, fell like water on a stone. Thereupon Merlin\nwent to Cameliard and told King Leodegrance of Arthur's wish.\n\n\"This is to me,\" said Leodegrance, \"the best tidings that any man living\ncould bring; that a monarch of such prowess and nobleness should ask to\nwed my daughter. Cheerfully will I give her, and I would give lands in\ndowry with her, but of that he has enough already. Yet I can send him a\ngift that will please him far more than lands or treasure, no less a\ngift than the Table Round, which Uther Pendragon gave me, and around\nwhich may be seated a hundred and fifty knights. As for myself, I have\nbut a hundred knights worthy to sit at the table, but these I will send\nto Arthur, who must complete the tale himself.\"\n\nAnd so, with Guenever, and the Round Table, and the hundred knights,\nMerlin set out for London, where Arthur then was, and whither the noble\ncavalcade rode in royal procession through the land.\n\nWhen King Arthur heard of their coming his heart was filled with joy,\nand he said to those around him,--\n\n\"This fair lady is very welcome to me, for I have loved her long. And\nthese knights with the Round Table please me more than if the greatest\nriches had been sent, for I value worth and prowess far above wealth and\nhonors.\"\n\nHe ordered the marriage and coronation to be prepared for in royal pomp,\nbut with no needless delay.\n\n\"And, Merlin,\" he said, \"I pray you to go and seek me out fifty knights\nof the highest honor and valor, to complete the tale of my Round Table\nKnights.\"\n\nMerlin went, and in a short time brought twenty-eight knights whom he\ndeemed worthy of that high honor, but no more could he find.\n\nThen the Archbishop of Canterbury was brought, and he blessed the seats\nof the Round Table with great worship and ceremony, and placed the\ntwenty-eight knights in their chairs. When this was done Merlin said,--\n\n[Illustration: Copyright by Frederick Hollyer, London, England.\n\nKING ARTHUR'S FAIR LOVE.]\n\n\"Fair sirs, you must all rise and come to King Arthur and do him homage.\nFor henceforth you are his chosen knights, and must so declare. And know\nyou well, that great shall be the future honor and fame of all who\nworthily occupy these seats.\"\n\nAt this request the knights arose, and did homage to the king. And when\nthey had risen from their seats there appeared in each in letters of\ngold the name of him who had sat therein. But two seats were wanting\nfrom the full tale.\n\n\"What is the reason of this?\" asked Arthur. \"Why are there two seats\nlacking?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" answered Merlin, \"no man shall occupy those places but the most\nworshipful of knights. And in the Seat Perilous, which adjoins them, no\nman shall sit but one, and if any one unworthy of this honor shall be so\nhardy as to attempt it, he shall be destroyed. He that shall sit there\nshall have no fellow.\"\n\nAnon came young Gawaine, the son of King Lot, a squire of handsome mien,\nwho asked of the king a gift.\n\n\"Ask, and I shall grant it,\" answered the king.\n\n\"I ask that you make me knight on the day you wed fair Guenever.\"\n\n\"That shall I do willingly,\" said Arthur, \"and with what worship I may,\nsince you are my nephew, my sister's son.\"\n\n[Here it is proper to say that Arthur had three sisters, the daughters\nof Queen Igraine and her first husband, the Duke of Tintagil. One of\nthese, Margawse, had married King Lot, and had four sons, all of whom\nbecame valiant knights; Elaine, the second, had married King Neutres of\nGarlot; the third sister, Morgan le Fay, had been put to school, where\nshe became learned in the art of necromancy; of the fourth the\nchronicles fail to speak.]\n\nHardly had Gawaine spoken when there came riding into the court a poor\nman, who brought with him a fair-faced youth, of eighteen years of age,\nriding upon a lean mare.\n\n\"Sir, will you grant me a gift?\" the old man asked of the king. \"I was\ntold that you would at the time of your marriage grant any gift that was\nasked for in reason.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" said the king. \"What would you have?\"\n\n\"Jesu save you, most gracious king. I ask nothing more than that you\nmake my son a knight.\"\n\n\"It is a great thing you ask,\" said the king. \"Who are you, and what\nclaim has your son to this high honor?\"\n\n\"I am but a cowherd, great sir, and am the father of thirteen sons. But\nthis one is unlike all the rest. He will do no labor, and cares for\nnothing but warlike sports, and seeing knights and battles. And day and\nnight he craves for knighthood.\"\n\n\"What is thy name?\" the king asked the young man.\n\n\"Sir, my name is Tor.\"\n\nThe king looked at him closely. He was of handsome face, and was very\nwell made and strong of limb and body.\n\n\"Where is the sword with which this youth shall be made knight?\" asked\nthe king.\n\n\"It is here,\" said Tor.\n\n\"Then draw it from the scabbard, and require me to make you a knight.\"\n\nAt these words the youth sprang lightly and gladly from his mare, drew\nthe sword, and kneeled before the king, asking him in earnest tones to\nmake him a Knight of the Round Table.\n\n\"A knight I will make you,\" answered the king. \"But the Round Table is\nnot for untried youth.\"\n\nThereupon he smote him upon the neck with the sword, and said,--\n\n\"Be you a good knight, and I pray God you may be so. If you prove of\nprowess and worth I promise you shall in good time have a seat at the\nRound Table.\"\n\n\"Now, Merlin,\" said Arthur, \"tell me whether this Tor will be a good\nknight or not.\"\n\n\"He should be so,\" answered Merlin, \"for he comes of kingly blood. The\ncowherd here is no more his father than I, but he is the son of the good\nknight, King Pellinore, whose prowess you have much reason to know.\"\n\nBy good hap King Pellinore himself came next morning to the court, and\nwas glad to find what honor had been done his son, whom he gladly\nacknowledged as his.\n\nThen Merlin took Pellinore by the hand and led him to the seat next the\nSeat Perilous.\n\n\"This is your place at the Round Table,\" he said. \"There is none here so\nworthy as yourself to sit therein.\"\n\nAt a later hour of that eventful day, in the city of London, and at the\nChurch of Saint Stephen, King Arthur was wedded unto Dame Guenever,\nwith the highest pomp and ceremony, and before as noble an assemblage of\nknights and ladies as the land held.\n\nAfterwards a high feast was made, and as the knights sat, each in his\nappointed place, at the Round Table, Merlin came to them and bade them\nsit still.\n\n\"For you shall see a strange and marvellous happening,\" he said.\n\nHardly had he spoken before there came running a white hart into the\nhall, closely followed by a white brachet,[1] while thirty couple of\nblack hounds in full cry came after, and chased the hart round the\nfeasting boards and then round the Round Table.\n\n[Footnote 1: A small scenting dog.]\n\nAs they ran the brachet caught the hart by the haunch, and bit out a\npiece, whereupon the wounded animal made a great leap over a table, and\nthrough a window, with such force as to overthrow a knight. Through the\nwindow the hounds followed, in full cry.\n\nThe fallen knight quickly rose, took up the brachet in his arms, and\nleft the hall. Seeking his horse, he rode away, carrying the brachet\nwith him. But hardly had he gone when a lady came riding into the hall\non a white palfrey, and crying aloud to King Arthur,--\n\n\"Sir, suffer not yonder knight to do me this wrong. The brachet that he\nhas taken away is mine.\"\n\nShe had but ceased speaking when an armed knight rode up on a great\nhorse, and took her away by force, though she bitterly cried and called\nfor aid.\n\n\"This affair must not be taken lightly,\" said Merlin to the king. \"The\nhonor of your court requires that you shall redress all wrongs, and\nhere, at your marriage feast, have great wrongs been done.\"\n\n\"What do you advise?\" asked the king. \"I shall be governed by your\ncounsel.\"\n\n\"Then,\" answered Merlin, \"call Sir Gawaine, for he must bring again the\nwhite hart. Also call Sir Tor, for to him must be assigned the adventure\nof the knight and the brachet. As for the lady and the knight, King\nPellinore must bring them, or slay the knight if he will not come.\"\n\nThereupon they were all three called, and they armed and rode forth on\nthe errands assigned them. Many and strange were the adventures of these\nvaliant knights, but we have matter of more moment to tell, and so\ncannot relate their valorous deeds. We can but say that Gawaine brought\nback the head of the hart, and little honor with it, for by an evil\naccident he killed a lady, and barely escaped with life from her\nchampions.\n\nSir Tor had better fortune, for he brought the brachet alive, and won\nmuch honor from his deeds.\n\nKing Pellinore was also successful in his quest, for he brought back the\nlady in safety, after having fought with and slain her kidnapper. This\nlady's name was Nimue, and of her we shall have many strange things to\ntell hereafter.\n\nThus ended the three quests which followed the marriage of King Arthur\nand Guenever the fair. Afterwards the king established his knights,\ngiving lands to those who were poor, and enjoining all against outrage,\nand in favor of mercy and gentleness. He also bade them to succor all\nladies in distress, and never to engage in a wrongful quarrel, or to\nstrive for worldly goods.\n\nUnto this were sworn all the Knights of the Round Table, old and young.\nAnd it was ordained that they should renew their oaths every year at the\nhigh feast of Pentecost, that their obligations might never be\nforgotten, and the honor and renown of the glorious fellowship of the\nRound Table never decline.\n\nIn this manner began, that illustrious career of the Knights of the\nRound Table, which was destined to shed the greatest glory on Arthur's\nreign, and to fill the whole world with its fame. Valorous as were the\nknights who first composed that noble order of chivalry, it was\nafterwards to include such world-renowned warriors as Lancelot du Lake,\nTristram de Lyonesse, and others of little less prowess, the story of\nwhose noble exploits and thrilling adventures was destined to be told by\nbards and sung by minstrels till all time should ring with the tale, and\nmen of honor in far future days be stirred to emulation of these worthy\nknights of old.\n\n\n\n\n BOOK II.\n\n THE DEEDS OF BALIN.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nHOW BALIN WON AND USED THE ENCHANTED SWORD.\n\n\nIt befell upon a time when King Arthur was at London, that tidings came\nto him that King Ryons of North Wales was carrying out his threat. He\nhad crossed the borders with an army, and was burning and harrying his\nlands and slaying his people without mercy. On learning this the king\nsent word to his lords and knights to assemble with all haste at\nCamelot, where a council would be held and measures of defence and\nreprisal taken.\n\nAnd it so fell out that while this assembly was in session at Camelot, a\ndamsel came into the court who had been sent by the great lady Lile of\nAvelion. When she came before King Arthur she let fall her mantle, which\nwas richly furred, and revealed a noble sword, with which she was girt.\n\n\"Damsel,\" said the king in wonder, \"why wear you that sword? It beseems\nyou not.\"\n\n\"Indeed, sir, it is a sore burden to me,\" replied the damsel, \"but I\nmust wear it till a knight of the highest honor and virtue can be found\nto deliver me of my charge. None other than such a one may draw this\nsword from its sheath, for so it is ordained. I have been to King\nRyons's camp, where I was told there were knights of high excellence,\nand he and all his knights tried it, but in vain. I have therefore come\nto your court with my burden, and hope that the knight fit to draw it\nmay here be found.\"\n\n\"This is surely a great marvel,\" said Arthur. \"I shall try to draw the\nsword myself; not that I claim to be the best knight, but as an example\nto my barons.\"\n\nThen Arthur took the sword by the sheath and the girdle, and pulled at\nit eagerly, but it failed to yield.\n\n\"You need not pull so hard,\" said the damsel. \"He who shall draw it will\nneed little strength, but much virtue.\"\n\n\"Now try ye, all my barons,\" said Arthur. \"But beware ye be not defiled\nwith shame, treachery, or guile.\"\n\n\"That is well advised,\" said, the damsel, \"for none shall draw it but a\nclean knight without villany, and of gentle birth both by father and\nmother.\"\n\nThen most of the Knights of the Round Table who were there tried their\nfortunes, but none succeeded in the magic task.\n\n\"Alas!\" said the damsel, \"I hoped to find in this court the best knights\nupon earth.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" said Arthur, \"the world holds no better knights; but it\ngrieves me to find that none here seem to have the grace or power to\ndraw this sword.\"\n\nIt happened that at that time there was a poor knight of Northumberland\nbirth in Arthur's court, Balin by name. He had been held prisoner there\nmore than half a year, for slaying a knight who was cousin to the king,\nand had just been set free through the good services of some of the\nbarons, who knew that he was not at fault in this deed.\n\nWhen he learned what was being done his heart bade him try his fortune,\nbut he was so poor and so shabbily dressed that he held back in shame.\nYet when the damsel took her leave of Arthur and his barons, and was\npassing from the court, Balin called to her and said,--\n\n\"Suffer me, I pray you, to try this venture. Though I am poorly clad,\nand but ill considered, I feel in my heart that in honor and grace I\nstand as high as any of those knights.\"\n\nThe damsel looked on him with some disdain, and begged him not to put\nher to useless trouble, for he seemed not the man to succeed where so\nmany of noble guise had failed.\n\n\"Fair damsel,\" he replied, \"you should well know that worthiness and\ngood qualities do not dwell in attire, but that manhood and virtue lie\nhidden within man's person, not in his dress; and therefore many a\nworshipful knight is not known to all people.\"\n\n\"You speak wisely,\" said the damsel. \"You shall essay the task, and may\nfortune befriend you.\"\n\nThen Balin took the sword by the girdle and sheath, and drew it out with\nsuch ease that king and barons alike were filled with wonder, and many\nof the knights, in spite and jealousy, cried that Balin had done this\nnot by might, but by witchcraft.\n\n\"He is a good knight,\" cried the damsel, \"the best and worthiest among\nyou all, even if fortune has dealt with him shabbily. Now, gentle and\ncourteous knight, give me the sword again.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Balin, \"I have fairly won this sword, and well it pleases me.\nI shall keep it unless it be taken from me by force.\"\n\n\"You are not wise to keep it,\" said the damsel. \"I warn you that if you\ndo so you will slay with the sword your best friend and the man you most\nlove in the world, and that it will be your destruction.\"\n\n\"I shall take such adventure as God may ordain me,\" said Balin, \"but by\nthe faith of my body I shall keep the sword.\"\n\n\"You will quickly repent it,\" said the damsel. \"It is more for your good\nthan for mine that I ask it back. I am sad to find that you will not\nbelieve me, and will bring destruction on yourself. The wilful man makes\nhis own destiny.\" With this the damsel departed, in great sorrow.\n\nThen Balin sent for his horse and his armor, and made ready to depart,\nthough Arthur begged him to remain.\n\n\"I knew not your worth,\" he said, \"or you should not have been so\nunkindly treated. I was misinformed concerning you.\"\n\n\"My heartfelt thanks are yours,\" said Balin. \"But asking your good\ngrace, I must needs depart.\"\n\n\"Then tarry not long, fair knight; you shall always be welcome to my\ncourt.\"\n\nSo Balin donned his armor and made ready to depart. But while he still\ntarried there came to the court a lady richly attired, and riding on a\nhandsome horse.\n\nShe saluted King Arthur, and presented herself as the Lady of the Lake,\nfrom whom he had received the sword, saying that she had now come to\ndemand the gift which he had promised her whenever she should ask for\nit.\n\n\"A gift I promised you, indeed,\" said Arthur, \"and you do well to ask\nit. But first I would know the name of the sword you gave me.\"\n\n\"The name of it,\" said the lady, \"is Excalibur, which signifies\ncut-steel.\"\n\n\"Then well is it named,\" said the king. \"Now ask what gift you will. If\nit is in my power to present you shall have it.\"\n\n\"What I ask,\" said the Lady of the Lake, \"is the head of the knight who\nhas just won the sword, or of the damsel who brought it; or both their\nheads, if you will. He slew my brother, and she caused my father's\ndeath.\"\n\n\"Truly,\" said the king, in pain and wonder, \"you ask what I cannot in\nhonor grant. Ask what you will else and you shall not be denied, but\neven a king cannot pay his debts with murder.\"\n\n\"I shall ask nothing else,\" said the lady. \"Little deemed I that King\nArthur would be recreant to his word.\"\n\nWhen Balin was told of the demand of the Lady of the Lake, he went\nstraight to her, where she stood before the king, and said, \"Evil you\nare in heart and voice, and evil have ever been. Vile enchantress, you\nwould have my head, and therefore, shall lose yours.\" And with a light\nstroke of his sword he smote off her head before the king, so that it\nfell bleeding at his feet.\n\n\"What shame is this?\" cried Arthur, in hot wrath. \"Why have you dared\ntreat thus a lady to whom I was beholden, and who came here under my\nsafe-conduct?\"\n\n\"Your displeasure grieves me,\" said Balin. \"But you know not this lady,\nor you would not blame me for her death, for she was of all women the\nvilest that ever breathed. By enchantment and sorcery she has slain many\ngood knights, and I have sought her during three years, to repay her for\nthe falsehood and treachery by which she caused my mother to be burnt.\"\n\n\"Whatever your grievance, you should not have sought your revenge in my\npresence. You have done me a foul disgrace, sir knight. Leave my court\nin all haste while you may, and believe me you shall be made to repent\nthis insult to my dignity.\"\n\nThen Balin took up the head of the lady, and meeting his squire at his\ninn, they rode together from the town.\n\n\"Now,\" said the knight, \"we must part. Take this head and bear it to my\nfriends in Northumberland, and tell them that my mortal foe is dead.\nAlso tell them that I am out of prison, and by what adventure I got this\nsword.\"\n\n\"You were greatly to blame to displease King Arthur,\" said the squire.\n\n\"As for that,\" said Balin, \"I hope to win his grace again by the death\nor capture of King Ryons, whom I go to meet. The woman sought my death,\nand has had her just deserts.\"\n\n\"Where shall I find you again?\" asked the squire.\n\n\"In King Arthur's court.\"\n\nAnd so they parted. Meanwhile King Arthur and all the court grieved\ndeeply over the death of the Lady of the Lake, and felt greatly shamed\nthat they had not hindered the sudden and bloody deed. And the king\nordered that she should have a rich and stately funeral.\n\nAt this time there was in Arthur's court a knight named Lanceor, the son\nof the king of Ireland, a proud and valiant warrior, who was angry at\nBalin for winning the sword, and sought revenge on him. He asked the\nking to give him leave to ride after Balin and revenge the insult to his\ncrown.\n\n\"Go and do your best,\" said the king. \"Balin has done me a great\ndespite, and richly deserves punishment.\"\n\nThereupon the knight of Ireland armed and rode at all speed after Balin,\nwhom he quickly overtook on a mountain side. He called to him in loud\ntones,--\n\n\"Stop, sir knight. You shall halt whether you will or not, and the\nshield you bear shall prove but light defence to you, for I am come to\npunish you for your crime.\"\n\nHearing this outcry, Balin turned fiercely, and demanded,--\n\n\"What do you wish, sir knight? Are you here to joust with me?\"\n\n\"It is for that I have followed you,\" said the Irish knight.\n\n\"It might have been better for you to stay at home,\" answered Balin.\n\"Many a knight who thinks to chastise his enemy finds ill fortune to\nfall upon himself. From what court have you been sent?\"\n\n\"From the court of King Arthur, to revenge the insult you put upon him\nin murdering his guest before his face.\"\n\n\"Then must I fight with you,\" said Balin. \"Yet I warn you your quarrel\nis a weak one. The lady that is dead richly deserved her fate, or I\nshould have been as loath as any knight living to kill a woman.\"\n\n\"Make ready,\" said Lanceor. \"Fight we must, and one of us shall remain\ndead upon this field. Our combat is to the utterance.\"\n\nThen they put their spears in rest, and rode together at the full speed\nof their horses, meeting with a shock in mid career. Lanceor struck\nBalin a blow upon the shield that shivered the spear in his hand. But\nBalin smote him with such force that the spear-point went through shield\nand hauberk, and pierced his body, so that he fell dead to the earth.\n\nAs the victorious knight stood looking on the corpse of his slain foe,\nthere came from Camelot a damsel, who rode up at full speed upon a fair\npalfrey. When she saw that Lanceor was dead she fell into a passion of\nsorrow, and cried out in tones of deep lamentation,--\n\n\"Oh, Balin, thou hast slain two bodies and one heart! Yes, two hearts\nin one body, and two souls thou hast murdered with thy fatal spear.\"\n\nThen she took the sword from her love, and as she took it fell to the\nground in a swoon. When she arose again her sorrow was so great that\nBalin was grieved to the heart, and he sought to take the sword from her\nhands, but she held it so firmly that he could not wrest it from her\nwithout hurting her. Suddenly, before he could move to hinder, she set\nthe pommel of the sword to the ground and threw her body upon the naked\nblade. Pierced through the heart, she fell dead upon the body of her\nslain love.\n\n\"Alas!\" said Balin, \"that this should have happened. I deeply regret the\ndeath of this knight for the love of this damsel; for such true love as\nthis I never saw before. Yet his death was forced on me, and hers I\ncould not hinder.\"\n\nFull of sorrow, he turned his horse, and as he looked towards a great\nforest near by he saw a knight riding towards him, whom he knew, by his\narms, to be his brother Balan.\n\nWhen they were met they took off their helmets and kissed each other,\nand wept for joy and pity.\n\n\"I little expected to meet you thus,\" said Balan. \"A man in the Castle\nof Four Stones told me that you were freed from prison, and therefore I\ncame hither in hope to find you at the court.\"\n\nThen Balin told his brother of all that had happened at Camelot, and of\nthe displeasure of the king, and that he had determined to win Arthur's\nfavor at the risk of his life.\n\n\"King Ryons lies not far away besieging the Castle Terrabil,\" he said.\n\"Thither will we ride, to prove our worth and prowess upon him.\"\n\n\"I shall be your comrade,\" said Balan. \"We shall help each other as\nbrethren should, and trust to God for fortune.\"\n\nAs they stood conversing there came a dwarf riding in all haste from\nCamelot. When he saw the dead bodies he tore his hair for sorrow.\n\n\"Which of you knights has done this foul deed?\" he demanded.\n\n\"Why do you ask?\" queried Balin.\n\n\"Because I have the right to know.\"\n\n\"It was I,\" said Balin. \"He pursued me hither, and forced me to fight.\nOne of us had to die. As for the damsel, she died by her own hand, for\nwhich no man can be sorrier than I. For her sake I shall owe all women\nthe better love and favor.\"\n\n\"You have done yourself great damage,\" said the dwarf. \"The kindred of\nthis knight will follow you through the world till they have revenged on\nyou his death.\"\n\n\"That I do not greatly dread,\" said Balin. \"But I am sorry to have\ndispleased King Arthur for the death of this knight; and sorrier still\nfor the fate of this lovelorn damsel.\"\n\nAs they thus talked there chanced to pass a king of Cornwall, named King\nMark, who halted on seeing the dead bodies, and demanded what had been\ndone. When the tale was told him he was grieved that true love should\nhave met so sad a fate, and said, \"I shall not leave here till I have\nbuilt them a tomb, for they have earned a rich interment.\"\n\nThen he pitched his tents, and buried them nobly, placing above them a\nrich and fair tomb which he found in a church near by, and upon this\ntomb he wrote their epitaph, as follows:\n\n\"Here lieth Lanceor, the son of Ireland's king, who was slain in fair\ncombat by the hands of Balin; and his lady Colombe, who for deep love\nand sorrow slew herself with her true love's sword. May lovers\nhenceforth make this their place of pilgrimage.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nHOW ARTHUR TRIUMPHED OVER THE KINGS.\n\n\nWhile the tomb was being erected over the dead knight and his love,\nMerlin appeared at the scene.\n\n\"You have done yourself great harm,\" he said to Balin. \"Why saved you\nnot this lady?\"\n\n\"By the faith of my body, I could not,\" said Balin, \"she slew herself so\nsuddenly.\"\n\n\"This must I tell you,\" said Merlin. \"Because of the death of this lady\nyou shall strike a stroke the most dolorous that ever man struck, except\nthe stroke of our Lord; for you shall hurt the truest knight and the man\nof most worship that now lives, and through that stroke three kingdoms\nshall be in great poverty, misery, and wretchedness for twelve years,\nand the knight you will hurt shall not be whole of his wound for many\nyears.\"\n\n\"If I knew that it were true as you say,\" answered Balin, \"I would do\nsuch a rash deed as to slay myself to make you a liar. But the future\nmust reveal itself. I trust no man's predictions.\"\n\nThereupon Merlin suddenly vanished away, leaving them in deep marvel at\nhis coming and going. Soon after Balin and his brother took leave of\nKing Mark.\n\n\"First,\" said the king, \"tell me your name.\"\n\n\"You see he bears two swords,\" said Balan. \"You may call him the knight\nwith the two swords.\"\n\nAnd so King Mark rode towards Camelot, and the brothers towards\nTerrabil. As they rode, Merlin again met them, but now in disguise.\n\n\"Whither do you ride?\" he asked.\n\n\"Why should we tell you that?\" said the knights.\n\n\"You need not, for I know already. And I can tell you this. You will\ngain no advantage over King Ryons without my counsel.\"\n\n\"Ah! you are Merlin,\" said Balin. \"Then we shall be glad of your\ncounsel.\"\n\n\"Come then with me. But look that you brace yourself to knightly deeds,\nfor you will have great need to do so.\"\n\n\"As for that,\" said Balin, \"we will do what we can. No knight can do\nmore.\"\n\nThen Merlin lodged them in a leafy wood beside the highway, where they\nrested till it was near midnight. He then awakened them and bade them\nrise and make ready, for the king they sought was near at hand. He had\nstolen away from his host with threescore of his best knights to visit a\nlady.\n\n\"How shall we know the king?\" asked Balin.\n\n\"Hereby is a narrow way where you shall meet him,\" said Merlin.\n\nThey followed him to the place, where they lay in ambush till the rattle\nof harness showed that the party approached. Then, at Merlin's\nsuggestion, the two knights rode from their covert and assailed the king\nat the head of his followers, wounding him sorely and hurling him to the\nground. They then, in the darkness, attacked the array of knights with\nthe fury of lions, slaying more than forty of them, and putting the\nremnant to flight.\n\nThis done, they returned to King Ryons where he lay helpless, and with a\nthreat of death forced him to yield himself to their grace.\n\n\"Valiant knights, slay me not,\" he asked. \"You may profit by my life,\nbut can win nothing by my death.\"\n\n\"There you speak truly,\" said they, and lifting him carefully they\nplaced him on a horse-litter for conveyance to Camelot.\n\nThen Merlin vanished and came to King Arthur, whom he told that his\ngreatest enemy was vanquished and taken.\n\n\"By whom?\" asked the king.\n\n\"By two of the most valorous knights in your realm. To-morrow you shall\nlearn who they are.\"\n\nIn good time Balin and his brother came with the wounded king and\ndelivered him to the porters at the gates, charging them to bear him to\nKing Arthur. Then they turned again and departed in the dawning of the\nday.\n\nWhen King Ryons was brought to the court, Arthur received him\ngraciously.\n\n\"Sir king,\" he said, \"you are heartily welcome. By what adventure came\nyou hither?\"\n\n\"By a hard one,\" said the captive, \"as you well may see.\"\n\n\"Who won you?\" asked Arthur.\n\n\"The knight with the two swords and his brother,\" said Ryons. \"And\nknights of marvellous prowess they are.\"\n\n\"I know them not,\" said Arthur, \"but none the less am I deeply beholden\nto them.\"\n\n\"I shall tell you,\" said Merlin. \"One of these knights was Balin, he\nthat won the sword; the other was Balan, his brother, and as good a\nknight. And it is the most sorrowful thing that tongue can say that\nneither of these brave knights shall live long to win the fame of which\nthey are so worthy.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said Arthur, \"if that be so, it is indeed a great pity. I am\nmuch beholden to Balin, for he has highly redeemed the despite he did\nme. I have not deserved such good service at his hands.\"\n\n\"He shall do more for you, and that soon,\" said Merlin. \"I must now\ndepart, for I have duties elsewhere; but before I go let me warn you to\nprepare your forces for battle at once. To-morrow before noon you will\nbe set upon by a great host, led by Nero, King Ryons's brother.\nTherefore make all haste for your defence.\"\n\nMerlin's departure was for a purpose which he told not to the king. He\nwell knew that King Lot of Orkney, Arthur's bitterest foe, was marching\nto join Nero with a powerful host, and foresaw that if they fell\ntogether on King Arthur he and all his army would be destroyed. The\nshrewd magician thereupon repaired to King Lot, and held him with idle\ntales of prophecy till Nero and his people were destroyed.\n\nFor between Nero and Arthur a vigorous battle was fought, in which many\nknights won honor and renown, while King Arthur with his own hand slew\ntwenty knights and maimed forty. But Balin and his brother Balan, who\ncame in during the fight, did such mighty deeds of prowess that all who\nbeheld them said they fought like angels from heaven or devils from\nhell, while Arthur beheld their prowess with wonder and delight, and\nvowed that he owed to them his victory.\n\nThe combat, which took place at the Castle Terrabil, ended in the\ncomplete defeat of Nero, and the destruction of nearly all his host.\nWord of this disaster was brought to King Lot, where he lay resting with\nhis army.\n\n\"Alas!\" he said, \"why did I let myself be beguiled? Had I been there no\nhost under heaven could have matched us. That false prattler, with his\nprophecy, has mocked and befooled me. But what shall now be done? Shall\nwe treat with Arthur, or is it wise to fight him with half an army?\"\n\n\"His men are weary with fighting and we are fresh,\" said a knight. \"Now\nis the time to set upon him.\"\n\n\"So be it, then. And I hope that every knight will bear himself in the\nfray as well as I, for it is no laggard's task we have now before us.\"\n\nThen with waving banners and serried spears they assailed Arthur's\nweary host. But the Round Table Knights, with the aid of the two valiant\nbrothers Balin and Balan, roused themselves vigorously to the fray, and\nbore all before them, so that only where King Lot himself fought did his\nhost hold its ground. But where he battled in the van all his men seemed\nborne up by his valor, and not a knight met him but was overthrown or\nforced back by his prowess.\n\nThen King Pellinore pushed through the press of knights and horses, and\nstruck a mighty stroke at King Lot as he fought at the head of his host.\nThe sword failed in its aim, but struck the neck of the king's horse, so\nthat the wounded animal fell to the ground with its rider. Then\nPellinore struck so furious a stroke that his sword cut King Lot's\nhelmet in twain, and cleft his head to the brows, hurling him lifeless\nto the earth.\n\nSeeing their king thus slain, all the host of Orkney turned and fled,\nand great was the slaughter in the pursuit. That day there fell in all\ntwelve kings, who fought with Lot and Nero, and all these were buried in\nthe church of Saint Stevens at Camelot.\n\n[Illustration: Copyright by Frederick Hollyer, London, England.\n\nKING ARTHUR'S TOMB.]\n\nOf the tombs that were made for these kings that of King Lot was most\nrichly adorned, and King Arthur had a tomb prepared for himself beside\nit. For this he had made twelve images of brass and copper, which were\ngilt with gold. These represented the twelve kings, and each of them\nheld a taper of wax, that burned night and day. An image of King Arthur\nwas also made, in the form of a statue that stood above the twelve kings\nwith a drawn sword in its hand, while the faces of the twelve images\nwere those of men that had been overcome. All these figures were made by\nMerlin through his subtle craft.\n\n\"When I am dead,\" he said to the king, \"these tapers shall burn no\nlonger. Then the end will be near, and the adventures of the Sangreal\nshall be achieved.\"\n\nMuch more he told the king of the strange events that would come to pass\nin the future time; and further he said,--\n\n\"Look well to the scabbard of Excalibur. You shall lose no blood while\nyou wear this scabbard, even though you be covered with wounds.\"\n\nThus admonished, Arthur, in loving trust, took the scabbard to Morgan le\nFay, his sister, and gave it into her care to keep for him. Much did he\nperil in doing so, for Morgan was false at heart, and proved recreant to\nher trust, from love for a knight named Accolan, whom she cherished in\nher soul beyond her husband, while she had grown to hate her brother.\nShe made, by enchantment, another scabbard like the one given her in\ntrust, and gave the scabbard of Excalibur to her love. By this deed of\ntreachery she hoped in her false soul to bring King Arthur to his death.\nAnd well-nigh she succeeded therein, as shall be told hereafter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nHOW BALIN GAVE THE DOLOROUS STROKE.\n\n\nA day or two after King Arthur had placed the magical scabbard in the\nhands of his evil-thinking sister, he grew unwell, and had his tent\npitched in a meadow near Camelot for the benefit of the fresh air and\nthe green verdure. Here he sought in vain to sleep, lying long in uneasy\nwakefulness. As he thus lay he heard a horse approaching, and looking\nthrough the door of his tent, beheld a knight, who lamented deeply as he\ncame.\n\n\"Halt! fair sir,\" cried Arthur. \"Tell me the cause of your sorrow.\"\n\n\"You can little aid me,\" said the knight, and he rode onward without\nfurther answer.\n\nSoon afterward Balin rode up, and on seeing King Arthur sprang from his\nhorse and saluted him.\n\n\"By my head, you are welcome,\" said the king. \"A knight has just ridden\npast here moaning sadly, but has declined to tell me the cause of his\nsorrow. I desire of your courtesy to bring that knight to me, either by\nforce or good-will, for I wish greatly to know why he so deeply\ngrieves.\"\n\n\"That is little to what I should be glad to do for you,\" said Balin. He\nrode on apace, and ere long found the knight in a neighboring forest in\ncompany with a damsel.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" he said, \"you must come with me to King Arthur. He demands\nto see you and learn the cause of your sorrow.\"\n\n\"That I shall not do,\" said the knight. \"It will injure me greatly, and\ndo no good to you or him.\"\n\n\"Then you must make ready to fight,\" said Balin. \"I have my order to\nbring you willingly or by force, and I should be loath to have a fight\nwith you.\"\n\n\"Will you be my warrant if I go with you?\" asked the knight. \"For truly\nyou lead me into danger.\"\n\n\"Yes. And I shall die rather than let you come to harm, if it is in my\npower to avert it.\"\n\nThis said, the knight turned and rode back with Balin, accompanied by\nthe damsel. But as they reached King Arthur's pavilion a strange thing\nhappened. A spear was thrust through the body of the knight, inflicting\na mortal wound. Yet the hand and form of him who did this fatal deed\nremained unseen.\n\n\"Alas!\" said the knight, \"it is as I feared. Under your conduct and\nguard I have been slain by a traitorous knight called Garlon, who\nthrough enchantment rides invisible, and does such deeds as this. My day\nis done. As you are a true knight, I charge you to take my horse, which\nis better than yours, and ride with this damsel on the quest which for\nme is at an end. Follow as she will lead, and revenge my death when best\nyou may.\"\n\n\"That shall I do,\" said Balin. \"Upon the honor of knighthood I vow to\nfollow your quest, and to revenge you on this false foe, or die as you\nhave done.\"\n\nThen, leaving the king, Balin rode with the damsel, who bore with her\nthe truncheon of the spear with which the knight had been killed. After\nthey had gone, King Arthur had the knight buried richly and honorably,\nand had written upon the tomb his name, Herleus de Berbeus, and how he\ncame to his death through the treachery of the invisible knight Garlon.\n\nMeanwhile Balin and the damsel rode onward until they found themselves\nin a forest. Here they met a knight engaged in hunting, who asked Balin\nwhy he showed such grief.\n\n\"That I do not care to tell,\" said Balin.\n\n\"You should if I were armed as you are, for your answer is too curt to\nbe courteous.\"\n\n\"My story is not worth fighting for,\" answered Balin. \"I will tell you\nif you so greatly desire to know.\" He thereupon told him the fatal event\nwhich had just occurred, and that he mourned the untimely death of the\nknight who had been so treacherously slain.\n\n\"This is a sad story,\" said the knight. \"As I am a true cavalier I will\ngo with you on your quest, and leave you not while life lasts.\"\n\nThen he went with Balin to his inn, armed himself, and rode forth with\nhim. But as they passed by a hermitage near a church-yard the invisible\nknight Garlon came again, and smote Balin's companion through the body,\nas he had done to Herleus before.\n\n\"Alas!\" cried the knight. \"I too am slain by this invisible traitor, who\ndoes murder at will under cover of enchantment.\"\n\n\"It is not the first despite the wretch has done me,\" cried Balin.\n\"Could I see him I would soon repay this outrage. I am bound by the\nhonor of a knight to a double revenge on this unworthy caitiff.\"\n\nHe and the hermit thereupon buried the slain knight, Perin de\nMountbeliard, under a rich stone in a noble tomb, inscribing thereon the\ncause of his death.\n\nIn the morning the knight and damsel proceeded on their quest, and in\ngood time found themselves before a castle, which rose high and broad by\nthe roadside. Here Balin alighted, and he and the damsel turned towards\nthe castle, with purpose to enter. But as Balin entered in advance the\nportcullis was suddenly let fall behind him, cutting him off from his\ncompanion. Immediately a number of men assailed the damsel with drawn\nswords.\n\nWhen Balin saw this treacherous proceeding his soul burned within him.\nWhat to do at first he knew not. Then he ran hastily into the gate\ntower, and leaped, all armed, over the wall into the ditch. Finding\nhimself unhurt, he drew his sword and rushed furiously upon the armed\nmen who surrounded his companion.\n\n\"Traitors and dogs!\" he cried. \"If you are eager for fight, I will give\nyou your fill.\"\n\n\"We cannot fight you,\" they answered. \"We do nothing but keep the old\ncustom of the castle.\"\n\n\"What is that?\" asked Balin. \"It is an ill custom, methinks, that thus\ndisplays itself.\"\n\n\"Our lady is sick, and has lain so for many years. Nothing will cure her\nbut a dish full of blood from a maid and a king's daughter. It is,\ntherefore, the custom that no damsel shall pass this way without\nleaving a silver dish full of blood.\"\n\n\"That is for the damsel to say,\" replied Balin. \"If she chooses to bleed\nfor the good of your lady she may, but her life shall not be taken while\nmine lasts.\"\n\nThe damsel thereupon yielded a dish full of her blood, but it helped not\nthe lady. She and Balin rested in the castle for the night, where they\nhad good cheer. In the morning they proceeded again on their quest.\n\nThree or four days now passed without adventure. At the end of that time\nthe knight and damsel found lodging in the house of a rich gentleman,\nthe owner of a fair estate. As they sat at supper Balin was moved by the\ngrievous complaints of one who sat beside him, and asked his host the\ncause of this lamentation.\n\n\"It is this,\" said the host. \"I was lately at a tournament, where I\ntwice overthrew a knight who is brother to King Pellam. He threatened to\nrevenge his defeat on my best friend, and has done so by wounding my\nson. The hurt is a grievous one, and cannot be cured till I have some of\nthat knight's blood; but how to find him I know not, for his name is\nunknown to me, and he always rides invisible.\"\n\n\"Aha!\" cried Balin, \"has that treacherous dog been at his murderous work\nagain? I know his name well. It is Garlon, and he has lately slain two\nknightly companions of mine in the same base manner. I should rather\nmeet with that invisible wretch than have all the gold in this kingdom.\nLet me see him once and he or I dies.\"\n\n\"I shall tell you what to do, then,\" said the host. \"King Pellam of\nListeneise has announced a great feast, to be given within twenty days,\nto which no knight can come unless he brings with him his wife or his\nlove. That false knight, your enemy and mine, will be there, and visible\nto human eyes.\"\n\n\"Then, as I am a true knight,\" cried Balin, \"you shall have of his blood\nenough to twice heal your son's wound, if I die in the getting it.\"\n\n\"We shall set forward to-morrow,\" said the host, \"and I hope it may be\nas you say.\"\n\nIn the morning they rode towards Listeneise, which it took them fifteen\ndays to reach, and where the great feast began on the day of their\narrival. Leaving their horses in the stables, they sought to enter the\ncastle, but Balin's companion was refused admittance, as he had no lady\nwith him. Balin, however, having the damsel with him, was at once\nreceived, and taken to a chamber where he laid aside his armor and put\non rich robes which the attendants brought him. They wished him to leave\nhis sword, but to this he objected.\n\n\"It is the custom of my country,\" he said, \"for a knight always to keep\nhis weapon with him. This custom shall I keep, or depart as I came.\"\n\nHearing this, they objected no longer to his wearing his sword, and he\nthereupon entered the feasting chambers with his lady companion. Here he\nfound himself among many worshipful knights and fair ladies.\n\nBalin, after looking carefully round him, asked a guest,--\n\n\"Is there not a knight in this good company named Garlon?\"\n\n\"Yes. Yonder knight is he, the one with the dark face. And let me tell\nyou that there is no more marvellous knight living. He has the power of\ngoing invisible, and has destroyed many good knights unseen.\"\n\n\"I have heard of this,\" said Balin. \"A marvellous gift, indeed. This,\nthen, is Garlon? Thanks for your information.\"\n\nThen Balin considered anxiously what had best be done. \"If I slay him\nhere my own life will pay the forfeit,\" he said to himself. \"But if I\nlet him escape me now it may be long before I have such an opportunity,\nand in the meanwhile he may do much harm.\"\n\nAs he stood thus reflecting, with his eyes fixed on Garlon's face, the\nlatter observed his close and stern regard. In haughty anger he came to\nhim and smote him on the face with the back of his hand.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" he said, \"take that for your impertinent stare. Now eat\nyour meat, and do what you came here for. Hereafter learn to use your\neyes to better purpose.\"\n\n\"You dog!\" cried Balin, \"this is not your first insult to me. You bid me\ndo what I came for. It is this.\" As he spoke he rose furiously from his\nseat, drew his sword, and with one fierce blow clove Garlon's head to\nthe shoulders.\n\n\"That is my errand here,\" cried Balin to the guests. \"Now give me the\ntruncheon,\" he said to the damsel, \"with which he slew your knight.\"\n\nShe gave it to him, and Balin thrust it through Garlon's body,\nexclaiming,--\n\n\"With that truncheon you killed a good knight, and with this blow I\nrevenge him.\"\n\nThen he called his late host, who had by this gained entrance to the\nfeast, and said,--\n\n\"Here lies your foe. Take with you enough of his blood to heal your\nson.\"\n\nAll this had happened so quickly that none had time to interfere, but\nthe knights now sprang hastily from their seats, and rushed from the\nhall for their weapons, that they might revenge their slain companion.\nAmong them rose King Pellam, crying furiously,--\n\n\"Why have you killed my brother! Villain and murderer, you shall die for\nthis!\"\n\n\"Here I stand,\" said Balin. \"If you wish revenge, seek it yourself. I\nstand in my defence.\"\n\n\"It is well said,\" cried the king. \"Stand back, all. For the love I bore\nmy brother I will take his revenge on myself. Let no one interfere. This\nmurderer is mine.\"\n\nThen King Pellam snatched up a mighty weapon and struck fiercely at\nBalin, who threw up his own sword in guard. He was in time to save his\nhead, but the treacherous blade went into pieces beneath the stroke,\nleaving him unarmed before the furious king.\n\nBalin, finding himself thus in danger of death, ran into a neighboring\nchamber in search of a weapon, closely pursued by his enraged adversary.\nFinding none there, he ran on from chamber to chamber, seeking a weapon\nin vain, with King Pellam raging like a maddened lion behind him.\n\nAt length Balin entered a rich and marvellously adorned chamber, within\nwhich was a bed covered with cloth of gold of the noblest texture, and\nin this bed a person lay. Near by was a table with a top of solid gold\nand four curiously-shaped pillars of silver for its legs, while upon it\nstood a mighty spear, whose handle was strangely wrought, as though it\nhad been made for a mighty king.\n\nBut of all this marvel and magnificence Balin saw only the spear, which\nhe seized at once with a strong grip, and turned with it to face his\nadversary. King Pellam was close at hand, with sword uplifted for a\nfatal stroke, but as he rushed in blind rage forward Balin pierced his\nbody with the spear, hurling him insensible to the floor.\n\nLittle dreamed the fated warrior of all that thrust portended. The spear\nhe used was a magical weapon, and prophecy had long declared that the\ndeadliest evil should come from its use. King Pellam had no sooner\nfallen beneath that fatal thrust than all the castle rocked and tottered\nas if a mighty earthquake had passed beneath its walls, and the air was\nfilled with direful sounds. Then down crushed the massive roof, and with\na sound like that of the trumpet-blast of disaster the strong walls rent\nasunder, and rushed downward in a torrent of ruin. One moment that\nstately pile lifted its proud battlements in majesty toward the skies;\nthe next it lay prostrate as though it had been stricken by the hand of\nGod to the earth.\n\nMen say who saw it that when fell that fatal blow--thereafter to be\nknown in history and legend as the \"dolorous stroke\"--the castle\nshivered like a forest struck by a strong wind, and then fell with a\nmighty crash, burying hundreds beneath its walls. Among these were Balin\nand King Pellam, who lay there for three days without aid or relief, in\ndeep agony and peril of death.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE FATE OF BALIN AND BALAN.\n\n\nAt the end of the three days came Merlin, who rescued Balin from under\nthe ruined walls.\n\n\"Your horse is dead,\" he said, \"but I have brought you another, and the\nsword you won in Arthur's hall. My counsel is that you ride out of this\ncountry with all speed; for little you know the evil you have done.\"\n\n\"The damsel I brought hither must go with me,\" said Balin.\n\n\"She shall never go farther,\" answered Merlin. \"The damsel is dead, and\nwith her many a good knight and fair lady. That blow of yours was the\nfatalest ever struck, as you may see in the ruin of this castle, and as\nyou will see further when you ride abroad through this distracted\ncountry.\"\n\n\"What have I done?\" cried Balin. \"How could I know that such dread\ndisaster dwelt within that spear? Who was he that lay within the bed,\nand what does this strange thing portend?\"\n\n\"You did but what destiny commanded,\" said Merlin. \"It is fate, not you,\nthat is at fault. Let me tell you the meaning of this mighty and\nterrible event, which destiny has thrown into your hands. He who lay in\nthat rich bed was Joseph of Arimathea, who came years ago into this\nland, and bore with him part of the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. And\nthat spear was the same fatal weapon with which Longius smote our Lord\nto the heart. King Pellam was nigh akin to Joseph of Arimathea, and\ngreat pity is it of his hurt, for that stroke has filled the land with\ntrouble, grief, and mourning. As for King Pellam, he shall lie for many\nyears in sore pain from the wound you dealt him, and shall never be\nwhole again until Galahad, the high prince, shall heal him when he comes\nthis way in the quest of the Sangreal.\"\n\nThese words said, Balin mounted his horse, and departed in deep grief\nfor the harm he had wrought, saying to Merlin as he left, \"In this world\nwe shall never meet again, for I feel that destiny has marked me for its\nvictim.\" But little knew he the full effects of that fatal blow till he\nrode forth through the land. Then as he went through the once fair\ncities and fertile country he saw the people lying dead on every side,\nand cities and lands in ruin together. Few remained alive of all the\ninhabitants of that populous realm, and as he passed these cried out to\nhim,--\n\n\"Oh, Balin, terrible is the harm that thou hast done to this innocent\nland! Three countries lie destroyed through the dolorous stroke thou\ngavest unto King Pellam. Woe to thee for this dread deed! Thou hast\nescaped alive, yet doubt not but the vengeance of heaven will fall on\nthee at last!\"\n\nGreat was the grief and suffering with which the good knight heard these\nwords, and glad at heart was he when at length he left behind him that\nland of woe and ruin, to which his innocent hand had wrought such deadly\nharm.\n\nBut as he rode onward the feeling came to him that his end was at hand,\nthough this grieved him little, for he felt as one set apart to do\nheaven's work of destiny. And for eight days thereafter he rode over\nmany leagues of strange country without adventure.\n\nAt length came a day when he saw before him, by the roadside, a cross,\non which in letters of gold was written, \"It is not wise for any knight\nalone to ride towards this castle,\" Then he saw a white-haired old man\napproach, who said,--\n\n\"Balin le Savage, you pass your bounds to come this way. Turn again, if\nyou would leave this place in safety.\"\n\nWith these words he vanished, and as he did so there rang on the air a\nbugle-blast like that blown for the death of a beast of the chase.\n\n\"That blast is blown for me,\" said Balin. \"I am the prize of the\ninvisible powers. I am not yet dead, but they claim me for their own.\"\n\nAs he stood lost in deep thought there came trooping from the castle,\nwhich he now saw in the distance, a hundred fair ladies and many\nknights, who welcomed him with great show of gladness, and led him with\nthem to the castle, where he found dancing and minstrelsy, and all\nmanner of sport and pleasure. As he stood observing all this the chief\nlady of the castle said to him,--\n\n\"Knight of the two swords, there is a custom of this castle which all\nwho come here must keep. Hereby is an island which is held by a knight,\nand no man can pass this way unless he joust with him.\"\n\n\"That is an unhappy custom,\" said Balin. \"Why should every traveller be\nforced to fight?\"\n\n\"You shall have to do with but one knight,\" said the lady.\n\n\"That troubles me little,\" said Balin. \"I and my horse are both weary\nfrom our journey, but I am not weary at heart, and, if fight I must, I\nam ready to do it now. If death comes to me, it will not come\nunwelcome.\"\n\n\"Your shield does not seem to be a good one,\" said a knight. \"Let me\nlend you a larger one.\"\n\nBalin took the proffered shield and left his own, and rode to the\nisland, where he and his horse were taken over in a great boat. On\nreaching the island shore he met a damsel, who said in sorrowful\naccents,--\n\n\"O Knight Balin, why have you left your own shield? Alas! you have put\nyourself in great danger. Had you borne your own you would have been\nknown. It is a great pity that a knight of your prowess and hardiness\nshould fight unknown.\"\n\n\"I repent that I ever came into this country,\" said Balin. \"But now that\nI am here I shall not turn again, and whatever comes to me, be it life\nor death, I shall take it as my lot.\"\n\nThen he mounted and rode into the island, in whose midst he saw a\ncastle, from which rode a knight wearing red armor, and mounted on a\nhorse which bore trappings of the same color. The warriors looked at\neach other, but neither knew the other, though the two swords that Balin\nwore should have revealed him, had not he borne a shield of strange\ndevice.\n\nThen, couching their spears, the hostile knights rode together at the\nfull speed of their war-horses, meeting with such mighty force and equal\nfortune that both horses went down, and both knights were hurled to the\nearth, where they lay in a swoon.\n\nBalin was sorely bruised and weary with travel, and the red knight was\nthe first to gain his feet. But as he advanced with drawn sword, Balin\nsprang up and met him with ready shield, returning his blow with such\nforce that he cut through his shield and cleft his helmet.\n\nAnd now began the mightiest battle that island had ever beheld. As they\nfought, Balin looked at the castle and saw that its towers were full of\nladies who were watching the deadly contest, and who applauded each blow\nas though this combat was meant for their sport. The valiant knights\nfought till their breath failed, and then took rest and fought again,\nuntil each was sorely wounded and the spot upon which they stood was\ndeeply stained with blood.\n\nThey fought on until each of them had seven great wounds, the least of\nwhich might have brought death to the mightiest giant of the world. But\nstill the terrible sword-play continued, until their coats of mail were\nso hewn that they stood unarmed, and the blood poured piteously from\ntheir veins. At length the red knight withdrew a little and lay down.\nThen said Balin,--\n\n\"Tell me what knight you are. For never did I meet a man of your prowess\nbefore.\"\n\n\"I am Balan,\" was the answer, \"brother to the good knight Balin.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" cried Balin, \"that ever I should see this day!\" and he fell to\nthe earth in a swoon.\n\nThen Balan dragged himself up on his hands and feet, and took off his\nbrother's helmet, but the face was so scarred and blood-stained that he\ndid not know it. But when Balin came to himself he cried,--\n\n\"Oh, Balan, my brother, thou hast slain me, and I thee! Fate has done\ndeadly work this day.\"\n\n\"Heaven aid me!\" cried Balan. \"I should have known you by your two\nswords, but your shield deceived me.\"\n\n\"A knight in the castle caused me to leave my own shield,\" said Balin.\n\"If I had life enough left me I would destroy that castle for its evil\ncustoms.\"\n\n\"And I should aid you,\" said Balan. \"They have held me here because I\nhappened to slay a knight that kept this island. And if you had slain me\nand lived, you would have been held in the same way as their champion.\"\n\nAs they thus conversed there came to them the lady of the castle, with\nfour knights and six ladies and as many yeomen. The lady wept as she\nheard them moan that they as brothers had slain each other, and she\npromised them that they should be richly entombed on the spot in which\nthe battle had been fought.\n\n\"Now will you send for a priest,\" asked Balan, \"that we may receive the\nsacrament?\"\n\n\"It shall be done,\" said the lady.\n\nAnd so she sent for a priest and gave them the rites of the church.\n\n\"When we are buried in one tomb,\" said Balin, \"and the inscription is\nplaced over us telling how two brothers here slew each other in\nignorance and valor, there will never good knight nor good man see our\ntomb but they will pray for our souls, and bemoan our fate.\"\n\nAt this all the ladies wept for pity. Soon after Balan died, but Balin\nlived till midnight. The lady thereupon had them both richly buried, and\nthe tomb inscribed as they had asked, though she knew not Balin's name.\n\nBut in the morning came the magician Merlin, who wrote Balin's name upon\nthe tomb in letters of gold, as follows: \"Here lieth Balin le Savage,\nthe knight with the two swords, and he that smote the Dolorous Stroke.\"\n\nMore than this did Merlin, through this magic art. In that castle he\nplaced a bed, and ordained that whoever should lie therein would lose\nhis wits. And he took the sword which Balin had won from the damsel, and\nremoved its pommel, placing upon it another pommel. Then he asked a\nknight beside him to lift that sword, but he tried to do so in vain.\n\n\"No man shall have power to handle that sword,\" said Merlin, \"but the\nbest knight in the world; and that shall be Sir Launcelot, or his son\nSir Galahad. And Launcelot with this sword shall slay Sir Gawaine, the\nman he loves best in the world.\" All this he wrote in the pommel of the\nsword.\n\nThen Merlin built to the island a bridge of steel and iron that was but\nhalf a foot broad, and ordained that no man should cross that bridge\nunless he were of virtuous life and free from treachery or evil thoughts\nand deeds.\n\nThis done, Merlin by magical skill fixed Balin's sword in a block of\nmarble as great as a millstone, and set it afloat upon the stream in\nsuch a way that the sword always stood upright above the water. And for\nyears this stone swam down the stream, for no man could take it from the\nwater or draw the sword, until in time it came to the city of Camelot\n(which is in English Winchester), where the sword was drawn, and many\nstrange things followed thereupon, as shall be hereafter related.\n\nSoon after this was done, Merlin came to King Arthur and told him the\nstory of the dolorous stroke which Balin had given to King Pellam, and\nof the marvellous battle Balin and Balan had fought, and how they were\nburied in one tomb.\n\n\"Alas!\" cried Arthur, \"I never heard a sadder tale. And much is the loss\nto knighthood and chivalry, for in the world I know not two such\nknights.\"\n\nThus endeth the tale of Balin and Balan, two brethren born in\nNorthumberland, good knights.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nMERLIN'S FOLLY AND FATE.\n\n\nAnd now we have again a tale of disaster to tell, namely, how Merlin the\nwise fell into love's dotage, and through folly brought himself to a\nliving death, so that thenceforth he appeared no more upon the earth,\nand his wise counsels were lost to Arthur and his knights.\n\nFor the old magician, who had so long kept free from love's folly,\nbecame besotted with the damsel named Nimue, she whom King Pellinore had\nbrought to the court on his quest at Arthur's marriage.\n\nMerlin quite lost his wits and wisdom through his mad passion for this\nyoung lady, to whom he would give no rest, but followed her wherever she\nwent. The shrewd damsel, indeed, encouraged her doting lover, for he was\nready to teach her all the secrets of his art, so that in time she\nlearned from him so much of his craft that she became skilled in\nnecromancy beyond all enchantresses of her time.\n\nThe wise magician knew well that his end was at hand, and that the woman\nwhom he loved would prove his ruin, but his doting passion was such that\nhe had no strength of mind to resist. He came thereupon unto King\nArthur, and told him what he foresaw, and which it was not in his power\nto prevent; and warned him of many coming events, that he might be\nprepared for them when Merlin was with him no more.\n\n[Illustration: MERLIN AND NIMUE.]\n\n\"I have charged you,\" he said, \"to keep in your own hands the sword\nExcalibur and its scabbard, yet well I know that both sword and scabbard\nwill be stolen from you by a woman whom you foolishly trust, and that\nyour lack of wisdom will bring you near to your death. This also I may\nsay, you will miss me deeply. When I am gone you would give all your\nlands to have me again. For Merlin will find no equal in the land.\"\n\n\"That I well know already,\" said the king. \"But, since you foresee so\nfully what is coming upon you, why not provide for it, and by your craft\novercome it?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Merlin, \"that may not be. Strong I am, but destiny is\nstronger. There is no magic that can set aside the decrees of fate.\"\n\nSoon afterwards the damsel departed from the court, but her doting old\nlover followed her wherever she went. And as he sought to practise upon\nher some of his subtle arts, she made him swear, if he would have her\nrespond to his love, never to perform enchantment upon her again.\n\nThis Merlin swore. Then he and Nimue crossed the sea to the land of\nBenwick, the realm of King Ban, who had helped King Arthur so nobly in\nhis wars, and here he saw young Lancelot, the son of King Ban and his\nwife Elaine, who was in the time to come to win world-wide fame.\n\nThe queen lamented bitterly to Merlin the mortal war which King Claudas\nmade upon her lord and his lands, and the ruin that she feared.\n\n\"Be not disturbed thereby,\" said Merlin. \"Your son Lancelot shall\nrevenge you upon King Claudas, so that all Christendom shall ring with\nthe story of his exploits. And this same youth shall become the most\nfamous knight in the world.\"\n\n\"O Merlin!\" said the queen, \"shall I live to see my son a man of such\nprowess?\"\n\n\"Yes, my lady and queen, this you shall see, and live many years to\nenjoy his fame.\"\n\nSoon afterwards Merlin and his lady-love returned to England and came to\nCornwall, the magician showing her many wonders of his art as they\njourneyed. But he pressed her so for her love that she grew sorely weary\nof his importunate suit, and would have given aught less than her life\nto be rid of him, for she feared him as one possessed of the arts of the\nfoul fiend. But say or do what she would, her doting lover clung to her\nall the more devotedly, and wearied her the more with his endless tale\nof love.\n\nThen it came to pass that as they wandered through Cornwall, and Merlin\nshowed her all the wonders of that land, they found themselves by a\nrocky steep, under which he told her was a wonderful cavern that had\nbeen wrought by enchantment in the solid rock, its mouth being closed by\na mighty mass of stone.\n\nHere, with all her art of love, and a subtle show of affection, the\nfaithless damsel so bewitched Merlin that for joy he knew not what he\ndid; and at her earnest wish he removed by his craft the stone that\nsealed the cavern's mouth, and went under it that he might show her all\nthe marvels that lay there concealed.\n\nBut hardly had he entered when, using the magic arts which she had\nlearned from him, the faithless woman caused the great stone to sink\nback with a mighty sound into its place, shutting up the enchanter so\nfirmly in that underground cavern that with all his craft he could never\nescape. For he had taught her his strongest arts of magic, and do what\nhe would he could never move that stone.\n\nThis faithless act performed, the damsel departed and left Merlin a\nprisoner in the rock. She alone of all the world could set him free, and\nthat she would not do, but kept her secret, and thanked heaven for her\ndeliverance.\n\nAnd so Merlin, through his doting folly, passed out of the world of men\ninto a living tomb.\n\nLong days and months passed before his fate was known, and then chance\nbrought to his cavern prison a valiant knight named Bagdemagus, who had\nleft Arthur's court in anger because Sir Tor was given a vacant seat at\nthe Round Table which he claimed as his due.\n\nAs he wandered through that part of Cornwall in quest of adventures, he\ncame one day past a great rock from which dire lamentations seemed to\nissue. Hearing those woeful sounds, Bagdemagus sought to remove the\nstone that closed the cavern's mouth, but so firmly was it fixed by\nenchantment that a hundred men could not have stirred it from its place.\n\n\"Strive no longer,\" came a voice from within. \"You labor in vain.\"\n\n\"Who is it that speaks?\" asked the knight.\n\n\"I am Merlin, the enchanter; brought here by my doting folly. I loved\nnot wisely but too well; and here you find me, locked in this cliff by\nmy strongest spells, which in love's witlessness I taught to a woman\ntraitor. Go now, worthy sir, and leave me to my fate.\"\n\n\"Alas! that this should be! Tell me who did this thing, and by what\ndismal chance, that I may tell the king.\"\n\nThen Merlin related the story of his folly and fate, in the end bidding\nthe knight to leave him, for only death could free him from that prison.\n\nHearing this, Bagdemagus departed, full of sorrow and wonder, and after\nmany days returned to Arthur's court, where he told the story of the\nmagician's fate. Great was the marvel of all and the grief of the king\non learning this, and much he besought Nimue to set Merlin free. But\nneither threats nor entreaties could move her obdurate heart, and at\nlength she left the court in anger and defiance, vowing that she would\nnever set free her old tormentor.\n\n\n\n\n BOOK III.\n\n THE TREASON OF MORGAN LE FAY.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE ADVENTURE OF THE ENCHANTED SHIP.\n\n\nOn a day not long after the event of Balin's death, it befell that\nArthur and many of his knights went out hunting in a great forest,\nwhere, as fortune willed, King Arthur, Sir Accolan of Gaul, and King\nUriens, who had wedded Morgan le Fay, followed far on the track of a\ngreat hart, which led them astray till they were ten miles distant from\ntheir late companions.\n\nThey were all well mounted, but so hot was the chase, and so far did it\nlead them, that the horses at length fell dead beneath the ardent\nhuntsmen, leaving them on foot in the remote depths of the forest. But\nthe hart was in no better condition, for the hot chase had worn it out,\nand it dragged wearily on before them, barely able to keep its feet.\n\n\"What shall we do?\" said Arthur. \"We are far from human habitation, and\nthe night comes fast upon us.\"\n\n\"Let us go forward on foot,\" said Uriens. \"We shall surely soon meet\nwith some place of shelter.\"\n\n[Illustration: THE GREAT FOREST.]\n\nTaking this advice, they advanced in the track of the hart, and soon\ncame up with it where it lay on the bank of a large stream, while a\nhound had it by the throat, and others were coming up in full bay.\n\nThen Arthur blew the death-note of the chase, and killed the hart. This\ndone, he looked about him, and to his surprise saw approaching on the\nstream a small vessel, with flowing sails of silk. As it came near it\nveered towards the shore, and finally touched land on the sands before\nthem. Arthur walked to the bank and looked over the sides upon the deck,\nbut to his wonder not a living person was to be seen.\n\n\"This is a marvellous thing,\" said the king. \"Has the vessel been blown\nhere by a wind of magic? Let us enter and see what is in the ship.\"\n\nThey did so, and found it richly adorned with silken hangings and\nroyally equipped. As they stood on the deck looking about them in\nsurprise, night came upon them, but suddenly the darkness was dispelled\nby a hundred torches, which flared out around the sides of the ship,\nbrilliantly illuminating it. And immediately, from somewhere in the\ndepths of the ship, appeared twelve fair damsels, who fell upon their\nknees before King Arthur, saluting him by name, and welcoming him to the\nbest cheer that their means could provide.\n\n\"You are welcome, whoever you be,\" said Arthur, \"and have our thanks for\nyour kindly good will.\"\n\n\"Follow us then, noble sir.\"\n\nArthur and his companions followed their fair guides into a cabin of the\nship, where they were glad to see a table richly provided with the most\ndelicate viands, and set with the rarest wines. The king marvelled\ngreatly at this, for never in his life had he fared better at supper\nthan at this royal feast.\n\nThe meal ended, Arthur was led into a richly-appointed chamber, whose\nregal furniture and appointments he had never seen surpassed. His\ncompanions were conducted to chambers no less richly appointed, and\nquickly the three weary hunters fell asleep, for they were exhausted\nwith their day's labor.\n\nPerilous was the sleep that came upon them, for they little dreamed that\nthey had been lured into an enchanted ship, and that strange adventures\nawaited them all, and deadly danger threatened the king.\n\nFor when the next day dawned, Uriens woke to find himself at Camelot, in\nhis own chamber, with his wife. Much he marvelled at this, for he had\nfallen asleep the evening before at two days' journey distant. As for\nAccolan, we shall tell later what befell him. Arthur woke to find\nhimself in utter darkness, while the air was full of doleful sounds. On\nfeeling round him he soon discovered that he was in a dismal dungeon,\nand on listening he discovered that the sounds he heard were the woeful\ncomplaints of prisoners.\n\n\"What place is this, and who are ye that bewail so bitterly?\" asked\nArthur.\n\n\"We are twenty knights that have long been held prisoners here, some for\nseven years and some for less.\"\n\n\"For what cause?\" inquired Arthur.\n\n\"How came you here, that you know not the cause?\"\n\n\"I came by foul enchantment,\" said Arthur, and told them his adventure,\nat which they wondered greatly. \"Now tell me,\" he asked, \"how came you\nin this direful state?\"\n\n\"We are victims of an evil-hearted villain,\" they answered. \"The lord of\nthis castle, Sir Damas by name, is a coward and traitor, who keeps his\nyounger brother, Sir Ontzlake, a valiant and worthy knight, out of his\nestate. Hostility has long ruled between them, and Ontzlake proffers to\nfight Damas for his livelihood, or to meet in arms any knight who may\ntake up his quarrel. Damas is too faint-hearted to fight himself, and is\nso hated that no knight will fight for him. This is why we are here.\nFinding no knight of his own land to take up his quarrel, he has lain in\nwait for knights-errant, and taken prisoner every one that entered his\ncountry. All of us preferred imprisonment to fighting for such a\nscoundrel, and here we have long lain half dead with hunger while\neighteen good knights have perished in this prison; yet not a man of us\nwould fight in so base a quarrel.\"\n\n\"This is a woeful story, indeed,\" said Arthur. \"I despise treason as\nmuch as the best of you, but it seems to me I should rather take the\nchoice of combat than of years in this dungeon. God can be trusted to\naid the just cause. Moreover, I came not here like you, and have but\nyour words for your story. Fight I will, then, rather than perish.\"\n\nAs they spoke a damsel came to King Arthur, bearing a light.\n\n\"How fare you?\" she asked.\n\n\"None too well,\" he replied.\n\n\"I am bidden to say this to you,\" she remarked. \"If you will fight for\nmy lord, you shall be delivered from this prison. Otherwise you shall\nstay here for life.\"\n\n\"It is a hard alternative,\" said Arthur; \"I should deem only a madman\nwould hesitate. I should rather fight with the best knight that ever\nwore armor than spend a week in such a vile place. To this, then, I\nagree. If your lord will deliver all these prisoners, I will fight his\nbattle.\"\n\n\"Those are the terms he offers,\" said the damsel.\n\n\"Then tell him I am ready. But he must provide me with horse and armor,\nand vow on his knightly honor to keep his word.\"\n\n\"All this he will freely do.\"\n\n\"It seems to me, damsel, that I have seen you before. Have you not been\nat the court of King Arthur?\"\n\n\"Not so,\" said the damsel. \"I have never been there, but am the daughter\nof the lord of this castle, who has always kept me at home.\"\n\nIn this, as the chronicles tell us, she spoke falsely, for she was one\nof the damsels of Morgan le Fay, and well she knew the king.\n\nDamas was glad at heart to learn that a knight had at last consented to\nfight for him, and the more so when he saw Arthur and marked his strong\nlimbs and the high spirit in his face. But he and none there save the\ndamsel, knew who his prisoner was.\n\n\"It were a pity,\" said all who saw him, \"that such a knight should die\nin prison. It is wise in him to fight, whatever betide.\"\n\nThen agreement was made that Arthur should do battle to the uttermost\nfor the lord of the castle, who, on his part, agreed to set free the\nimprisoned knights. To this covenant both parties took oath, whereupon\nthe twenty knights were brought from their dark prison to the castle\nhall, and given their freedom and the privilege of seeing the battle.\n\nBut now we must leave the story of Arthur and Damas, and turn to that of\nAccolan of Gaul, the third of the three knights who had gone to sleep in\nthe enchanted ship. This knight was, unknown to Arthur, a lover of\nMorgan le Fay, being he for whose sake she had counterfeited the magic\nscabbard of the sword Excalibur.\n\nShe loved him, indeed, as ardently as she had grown to hate her royal\nbrother, and through this love had laid a treacherous plot for Arthur's\ndeath.\n\nWhen Accolan awoke, to his surprise he found himself no longer in the\nship, but lying within half a foot of the side of a deep well, in\nseeming peril of his life, for he might at any moment have fallen into\nthe water. Out of this well there came a pipe of silver, from which a\ncrystal stream ran into a high marble basin. When Accolan beheld all\nthis he crossed himself and said,--\n\n\"God save my lord King Arthur, and King Uriens, for those damsels in the\nship have betrayed us all. They were not women, but devils, and if I\nescape this misadventure I shall destroy all enchantresses wherever I\nfind them.\"\n\nAs he spoke, there came to him a dwarf with a great mouth and a flat\nnose, who saluted him, and said that he came from Morgan le Fay.\n\n\"She sends you her greetings, and bids you be of strong heart, for\nto-morrow it shall be your task to fight a knight of the greatest\nprowess. That you may win in the combat she has sent you Arthur's sword\nExcalibur, with its magical scabbard. She bids you do the battle to the\nuttermost without mercy, and promises to make a queen of the damsel whom\nyou shall send to her with the head of the knight you fight with.\"\n\n\"I shall do her bidding,\" said Accolan, \"and cannot fail to win, now\nthat I have this sword, for which I fervently thank her. When saw you my\nlady queen?\"\n\n\"I am just from her.\"\n\n\"Recommend me to her, and tell her I shall do all I have promised, or\ndie for it. These crafts and enchantments that have happened--are they\nof her making?\"\n\n\"That you may well believe. She has prepared them to bring on this\nbattle.\"\n\n\"Who, then, is the knight with whom I shall fight? It seems to me he\nshould be a noble one, for such preparation.\"\n\n\"That my lady has not told me.\"\n\nAs they spoke there came to them a knight and a lady, with six squires,\nwho asked Sir Accolan why he lay there, and begged him to rise and come\nwith them to a neighboring manor, where he might rest in better ease. As\nfortune willed it, this manor was the dwelling of Sir Ontzlake, the\nbrother of the traitor Damas.\n\nAccolan gladly accepted the invitation, but not long had he been in the\nmanor when word came from Damas, saying that he had found a knight who\nwas ready to do battle to the death for their claims, and challenging\nOntzlake to make ready without delay for the field, or to send a knight\nto take his side in the combat.\n\nThis challenge troubled Ontzlake sorely. Not long before he had been\nsadly hurt in a joust, and was still weak from his wound. Accolan, to\nwhom all this was made known, at once came, with the generous impulse of\na true knight, to his host, and offered to do battle in his stead. In\nhis heart, too, he felt that this might be the combat of which Morgan\nhad warned him, and with the aid of Arthur's sword and scabbard he could\nnot fail to win.\n\nOntzlake thanked him deeply for his generous offer, and without delay\nsent word to Damas that he would be ready with a champion at the hour\nappointed, and trust to God's grace for the issue of the combat.\n\nWhen morning came, Arthur was arrayed in a suit of chain mail and\nprovided with a strong horse, which he viewed with knightly ardor.\n\n\"When shall we to the field?\" he asked Damas.\n\n\"As soon as you have heard Mass.\"\n\nMass was scarcely ended when a squire rode up from Ontzlake, to say that\nhis knight was already in the field, and to bid Damas bring his champion\nto the lists, for he was prepared to do battle to the utterance.\n\nThen Arthur mounted his war-horse and rode to the field, attended by all\nthe knights and commons of the country round; twelve good men of the\ndistrict having been chosen to wait upon the two knights, and see that\nthe battle was conducted fairly and according to the rules of chivalry.\n\nAs they rode forward a damsel came to Arthur, bringing him a sword like\nunto Excalibur, with a scabbard that seemed in every point the same.\n\n\"Morgan le Fay sends you your sword, for the great love she bears you,\"\nsaid the messenger, \"and hopes it may do you worthy service in the\nfray.\"\n\nArthur took it and thanked her, never dreaming that he had been treated\nfalsely. But the sword that was sent him was but a brittle and worthless\nblade, and the scabbard was a base counterfeit of that magic one which\nhe who wore could lose no blood, and which he in brotherly trust had\ngiven to the care of his faithless sister.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE COMBAT OF ARTHUR AND ACCOLAN.\n\n\nThe time for the battle having come, the two knights took their places\nat the opposite sides of the lists, neither knowing with whom he fought,\nand both bent on doing battle to the death. Then putting spurs to their\nsteeds, they dashed across the field with headlong speed, each striking\nthe other in the middle of the shield with his spear, and with such\nforce that horses and men alike were hurled to the earth. In a moment\nboth the combatants started up in warlike fury and drew their swords.\n\nAt this juncture there came among the spectators the damsel Nimue, she\nwho had put Merlin under the stone. She knew, by the art that Merlin had\ntaught her, how Morgan le Fay had plotted that Arthur should be slain\nthat day, and she came to save his life if it lay in her power, for she\nloved the king as deeply as she hated Merlin.\n\nEagerly to battle went the two knights, hewing at each other like giants\nwith their swords. But Arthur's blade bit not like Accolan's, which\nwounded him at nearly every stroke, so that soon his blood was flowing\nfrom a dozen wounds, while his opponent remained unhurt.\n\nArthur was in deep dismay on beholding this. That some treason had been\npractised on him he felt sure, for his sword bit not steel as a good\nblade should, while the sword in Accolan's hand seemed to have the\ntrenchant edge of Excalibur.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" said Accolan, \"keep well your guard if you care for life.\"\n\n\"Thus will I,\" answered Arthur, and he dealt him a blow on the helm that\nnearly brought him to the ground.\n\nAccolan drew back from the staggering stroke, and then with a furious\nonset rushed on Arthur, and dealt him so fierce a blow that the king had\nmuch ado to keep his feet. Thus stroke by stroke went on the battle,\neach knight roused to fury, and each fighting with his utmost skill and\nstrength; but Accolan lost scarcely a drop of blood, while Arthur's\nlife-blood flowed so freely that only his knightly soul and unyielding\ncourage kept him on his feet. He grew so feeble that he felt as if\ndeath was upon him, yet, though he staggered like a drunken man, he\nfaced Accolan with the unquenched spirit of a noble knight.\n\nAll who saw the field marvelled that Arthur could fight after such a\nloss of blood. So valiant a knight none there had ever beheld, and many\nprayed the two brothers to come into accord and stop this deadly fray.\nBut this Damas would not do, and though Ontzlake trembled for his cause\nhe could not end the combat.\n\nAt this juncture Arthur withdrew a little to rest, but Accolan called\nhim fiercely to the fight, saying, \"I shall not suffer you to rest;\nneither of us must rest except in death.\"\n\nWith these words he advanced towards the king, who, with the strength of\nrage, sprang upon him and struck him so mighty a blow on the helm as to\nmake him totter on his feet and nearly fall. But the blow had a serious\nending, for Arthur's sword broke at the cross, the blade falling into\nthe blood-stained grass, and only the hilt and pommel remaining in his\nhand.\n\nWhen Arthur saw himself thus disarmed he felt sure that his hour of\ndeath had come, yet he let not his dread be seen, but held up his shield\nand lost no ground, facing his mortal foe as boldly as though he was\ntrebly armed.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" cried Accolan, \"you are overcome, and can no longer\nsustain the battle. You are weaponless, and have lost so much blood that\nI am loath to slay you. Therefore yield to me as recreant, and force me\nnot to kill a helpless foe.\"\n\n\"That I may not do,\" said Arthur. \"I have promised, by the faith of my\nbody, to fight this battle to the uttermost; and I had rather die in\nhonor than live in shame. If I lack weapon, I lack not spirit; and if\nyou slay me weaponless, the shame be on you.\"\n\n\"That shame I can bear,\" said Accolan. \"What I have sworn I will\nperform. Since you will not yield, you are a dead man.\"\n\nThis said, he struck Arthur a furious blow, that almost felled him to\nthe earth, bidding him at the same time to crave for mercy if he would\nlive. Arthur's only reply was to press upon him with his shield, and\ndeal him such a buffet with the pommel of his sword as to send him\nstaggering three paces back.\n\nAnd now the damsel Nimue, stirred by the prowess of the king, and\nfearful of his death, determined to aid him by all her power of\nenchantment.\n\nTherefore, when Accolan recovered himself and struck Arthur another\nstroke, she threw a spell upon him and caused the sword to fall from his\nhand to the earth. At once the king lightly leaped to it and seized it,\nthrusting Accolan fiercely back. As soon as his hand had touched the\nhilt he knew it for his sword Excalibur.\n\n\"You have been too long from me,\" he said, \"and no small damage you have\ndone me. Treason has been at work, and treason shall have its deserts.\"\n\nThen, seeing the scabbard hanging by Accolan's side, he sprang suddenly\nforward and wrenched it from him, flinging it across the field as far as\nhe could throw it.\n\n[Illustration: Copyright by Frederick Hollyer, London, England.\n\nNIMUE.]\n\n\"Now, sir knight,\" cried Arthur, \"my turn has come. You have nearly\nbrought my life to an end with this sword, and I warrant that you shall\nbe rewarded for the blood I have lost and the pain I have endured this\nday.\"\n\nTherewith, furious as a wounded lion, Arthur rushed upon his foe, hurled\nhim with all his strength to the earth, tore off his helm, and gave him\nsuch a blow upon the head that blood burst out from his ears, nose, and\nmouth.\n\n\"Now shall I slay you,\" said Arthur.\n\n\"Do so if you will,\" said Accolan. \"You are the best knight I ever met,\nand I see now that God is with you. But I promised to do this battle to\nthe uttermost, and never to yield me recreant. Therefore kill me if you\nwill, for my voice shall never ask for mercy.\"\n\nThen Arthur, looking closer, saw something familiar in his face.\n\n\"Tell me who you are,\" he cried; \"of what country and court.\"\n\n\"Sir knight,\" said Accolan, \"I am of the court of King Arthur, and my\nname is Accolan of Gaul.\"\n\nArthur heard this with deep dismay. For there came into his mind the\nenchantment of the ship, and his heart sank with fear of the treason of\nhis sister.\n\n\"Tell me this also, sir knight,\" he asked, \"from whom had you this\nsword?\"\n\n\"Woe worth that sword,\" cried Accolan; \"I have gotten my death by it.\"\n\n\"That may well be,\" answered Arthur, \"and I fancy have got no more than\nyou deserve.\"\n\n\"Yesterday,\" said the knight, \"Morgan le Fay sent me that sword by a\ndwarf, that with it I might slay the knight with whom I should fight\nthis day! And she would also pledge me to slay King Arthur, her brother,\nfor she hates him above any man in the world.\"\n\n\"How know you that to be so?\"\n\n\"I have loved her long, and know her purposes well, nor shall I longer\nkeep them secret. If by craft she could slay Arthur, she would quickly\ndispose of her husband, King Uriens. Then it was her intent to make me\nking of this realm, and to reign herself as its queen. But all this now\nis at an end, for death is upon me.\"\n\n\"It would have been great wrong in you to destroy your lord,\" said\nArthur.\n\n\"That I never could have had the heart to do,\" said Accolan. \"But I pray\nyou to tell me your name, and from what court you come?\"\n\n\"I am from Camelot, and men know me as King Arthur. I am he against whom\nyou plotted such deep treason.\"\n\nThen Accolan cried out in anguish,--\n\n\"My fair, sweet lord, have mercy on me, for I knew you not.\"\n\n\"You knew me not at this time, Accolan, but you have confessed that you\nplotted treason against me, and laid plans to compass my death. Yet I\nblame you the less that Morgan le Fay has worked on you with her false\narts. I have honored and loved her most of all my kin, and have trusted\nher as I would my wife, and this is how she repays me. By the faith of\nmy body, if I live I shall be deeply revenged upon her for this.\"\n\nThen he called to the keepers of the field, and said,--\n\n\"Here, fair sirs, are two knights who have fought nearly to the death\nthrough ignorance of each other. For had either of us known the other\nyou would have seen no battle to-day, and no stroke given or returned.\"\n\nThen Accolan called out to those who had gathered around,--\n\n\"Lords and knights, this noble warrior with whom I have fought is the\nman of most valor, manhood, and worship on English soil, for he is no\nless than our liege lord, King Arthur. Had I but dreamed it was he, I\nwould have killed myself rather than have drawn sword against him.\"\n\nAt this surprising news the people fell upon their knees before the king\nand begged mercy and pardon.\n\n\"Pardon you shall have,\" said the king, \"for you were ignorant of my\nperson. It is my fault if harm came to me in disguise. And here you may\nall see what adventures and dangers knights-errant are exposed to; for,\nunknown to each other, I and one of my own knights have fought for\nhours, to the great damage of us both. We are both sorely hurt, but\nbefore seeking rest it is my duty to settle the dispute which gave rise\nto this combat. I have been your champion, Sir Damas, and have won your\ncause. But as the victor I claim the right to give judgment, and as I\nknow you for a villain and coward, I adjudge unto your brother all the\nmanor in dispute, with the provision that he hold it of you, and yearly\ngive you in lieu of rent a palfrey to ride upon, which will become such\na base poltroon much better than a war-horse. And I charge you, upon\npain of death, to restore to these twenty knights their armor and\nproperty, and never again to distress a knight-errant. If complaint of\nsuch shall be made to me, by my head, you shall die for it. Sir\nOntzlake, you are said to be a good and valiant knight, and true and\nworthy in your deeds. I desire you to come to my court as soon as\npossible, where you shall be one of my knights, and, if your deeds\nhereafter conform to the good report I have heard of you, you soon shall\nequal your brother in estate.\"\n\n\"I am at your command,\" said Ontzlake, \"and thank you humbly for your\ngoodness and bounty. As for this battle, I would have fought it myself,\nonly that lately I was deeply wounded in a combat with a wandering\nknight.\"\n\n\"I would it had been so,\" said Arthur, \"for treason was used against me\nin this combat, and had I fought with you I should not have been so\nbadly hurt. My own sword was stolen and I was given a false and brittle\nblade, which failed me in my greatest need.\"\n\n\"Great pity it is that a king so noble and a knight so worthy should\nhave been thus foully dealt with.\"\n\n\"I shall reward the traitor in short time, by the grace of God,\" said\nArthur. \"Now tell me how far I am from Camelot?\"\n\n\"You are two days' journey distant.\"\n\n\"Then where can I obtain shelter and rest?\"\n\n\"There is an abbey but three miles distant where you will find skilled\nleeches and good nursing.\"\n\nThen King Arthur took his leave of the people, and repaired with Accolan\nto the abbey, where he and the knight were placed under medical care.\nArthur's wounds, though deep and painful, proved not serious, and he\nrapidly recovered, but Accolan had lost so much blood that he died\nwithin four days. Then Arthur had the corpse sent on a horse-bier,\nattended by six knights, to Camelot, saying to the messengers,--\n\n\"Bear this body to my sister, Morgan le Fay, and say to her that I send\nit as a present. Tell her, moreover, that, through her sisterly\nkindness, I have again my sword Excalibur and the scabbard, and shall\nvisit her ere long.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nHOW MORGAN CHEATED THE KING.\n\n\nIn the meantime Morgan le Fay was so sure of the success of her\nmurderous plot, to aid which she had used all her power of necromancy,\nthat she felt it safe to complete her scheme. Seeing her husband, King\nUriens, lying asleep upon his couch, she called a maiden, who was in her\nconfidence, and said,--\n\n\"Bring me my lord's sword. Now shall my work be ended.\"\n\n\"Oh, madam,\" cried the damsel, \"would you slay your lord! If you do so\nyou can never escape.\"\n\n\"Leave that to me, girl. Bring me the sword at once; I am the best judge\nof what it is fit to do.\"\n\nThe damsel departed with a heavy heart, but finding Sir Uwaine, King\nUriens' son, asleep in another chamber, she waked him and said,--\n\n\"Rise at once and go to your mother. She has vowed to kill the king,\nyour father, and has sent me in all haste for his sword.\"\n\n\"To kill him!\" cried Uwaine. \"What treachery is this?--But go, bring the\nsword as she bids. Leave it to me to deal with her.\"\n\nThe damsel did as she was bidden, and brought the sword to the queen,\ngiving it to her with hands that quaked with fear. Morgan seized it with\na firm grasp, and went boldly to the bedside, where she stood looking\nwith cruel eyes on the sleeping king. As she lifted the sword for the\nmurderous blow, Uwaine, who had silently entered, sprang upon her and\nseized her hand in a crushing grip.\n\n\"You fiend, what would you do?\" he fiercely cried. \"If you were not my\nmother I would smite off your head with this sword. Men say that Merlin\nwas born of a devil; but well I believe that I have an earthly fiend for\nmother. To kill my father thus!--in his slumber!--what foul device is\nthis?\"\n\nHis face and voice were so full of righteous fury that the queen quaked\nto her heart with fear, and she clasped her hands in terror upon her\nthroat.\n\n\"Oh, Uwaine, my dear son, have mercy on me! The foul fiend tempted me to\nthis deed. Let me live to repent of this base intent, which I pray you\nto keep secret. I swear never again to attempt so foul a deed.\"\n\n\"Can I trust you? Truth and murder do not go together.\"\n\n\"On my soul, I vow to keep my word!\"\n\n\"Live, then; but beware you rouse me not again by such a murderous\nthought.\"\n\nHardly had the false-hearted queen escaped from the indignation of her\nson when tidings came to her which filled her with as deep a dread as\nwhen Uwaine had threatened her with the sword, while the grief it\nbrought her was deeper than her fear. For she learned that Accolan had\nbeen slain in the battle, and that his dead body had been sent her.\nSoon, indeed, came the funeral train, with the message that Arthur had\nsent. Then sorrow and terror together filled her heart till it\nthreatened to break, for she had loved Accolan with all her soul, and\nhis fate wounded her almost to death. But she dared not let this grief\nbe seen upon her countenance, lest the secret of her love should be\ndiscovered; and she was forced to wear a cheerful aspect above a\nbleeding heart. And this she knew, besides, that if she should remain in\nCamelot until Arthur's return, all the gold in the realm would not buy\nher life.\n\nShe went, therefore, unto Queen Guenever and asked leave to ride into\nthe country.\n\n\"Why not remain to greet your brother on his return? He sends word that\nhe will soon be here.\"\n\n\"I should much like to, Guenever, but hasty tidings have come which\nrequire that I should make no delay.\"\n\n\"If that be so,\" answered Guenever, \"let me not stay you. You may depart\nwhen you will.\"\n\nOn the next morning, before daybreak, Morgan took horse, and rode all\nthat day and the greater part of the night. On the following day by\nnoon she came to the abbey where Arthur lay. Here she asked the nuns\nwhere he was, and they answered that he was sleeping in his chamber, for\nhe had had but little rest during the three nights past.\n\n\"Then see that none of you waken him,\" she said. \"I will go visit him in\nhis chamber. I am his sister, Morgan le Fay.\"\n\nSaying this, she sprang from her horse and entered the abbey, going\nstraight to Arthur's chamber. None dare hinder her, and she suffered no\none to accompany her. Reaching the chamber she found her brother asleep\nin bed, with the sword Excalibur clasped with a vigorous grip in his\nright hand.\n\nWhen she saw this her heart sank, for it was to steal that sword she\ncame, and she knew her treacherous purpose was at an end. She could not\ntake the sword from his hand without wakening him, and that might be the\nwarrant for her instant death. But the scabbard lay on a chair by the\nbedside. This she took and left the chamber, concealing it under her\nmantle as she went. Mounting her horse again, she rode hastily away with\nher train.\n\nNot long afterwards Arthur woke, and at once missed his scabbard.\nCalling his attendants in a loud voice, he angrily asked who had been\nthere, and who had dared remove the missing scabbard. They told him that\nit was his sister, Morgan le Fay, and that she had put it under her\nmantle and ridden away with it.\n\n\"Then have you watched me falsely,\" cried Arthur, in hasty passion.\n\n\"What could we do?\" they answered. \"We dared not disobey your sister's\ncommand.\"\n\n\"Fetch me at once the best horse that can be found,\" he ordered, \"and\nbid Sir Ontzlake arm himself in all haste, and come here well mounted to\nride with me.\"\n\nBy the hour's end these commands had been obeyed, and Arthur and\nOntzlake rode from the abbey in company, well armed and on good horses,\nthough the king was yet feeble from his wounds. After riding some\ndistance they reached a wayside cross, by which stood a cowherd, whom\nthey asked if any lady had lately ridden that way.\n\n\"Yes, your honors,\" said the cowherd. \"Not long ago a lady passed here\nat easy speed, followed by about forty horsemen. They rode into yonder\nforest.\"\n\nArthur and Ontzlake at this news put spurs to their horses and followed\nfast on the track of the fugitives. An hour of this swift pursuit\nbrought them in sight of Morgan's party, and with a heart hot with anger\nArthur rode on at the utmost pace of his horse.\n\nThe fugitives, seeing themselves thus hotly chased, spurred on their own\nsteeds, soon leaving the forest and entering a neighboring plain, beside\nwhich was a lake. When Morgan saw that she was in danger of being\novertaken she rode quickly to the lake-side, her heart filled with\nspiteful hatred of her brother.\n\n\"Whatsoever may happen to me,\" she cried, \"I vow that Arthur shall\nnever again wear this scabbard. I here consign it to the lake. From the\nwater it came; to the water it returns.\"\n\nAnd with a strong hand she flung it far out over the deep waters, into\nwhich it sank like a stone, for it was heavy with gold and precious\nstones.\n\nThen she rode on, followed by her train, till they entered a valley\nwhere there were many great stones, and where they were for the moment\nout of sight of their pursuers. Here Morgan le Fay brought her deepest\npowers of enchantment to work, and in a trice she and her horse were\nchanged into marble, while each of her followers became converted into a\nstatue of stone.\n\nHardly had this been done when Arthur and Ontzlake entered the valley,\nwhere they beheld with starting eyes the marvellous transformation. For\nin place of the fugitives they saw only horses and riders of solid\nstone, and so changed that the king could not tell his sister from her\nmen, nor one knight from another.\n\n\"A marvel is here, indeed!\" cried the king. \"The vengeance of God has\nfallen upon our foes, and Morgan le Fay is justly punished for her\ntreachery. It grieves me, indeed, that so heavy a fate has befallen her,\nyet her own deeds have brought on her this mighty punishment.\"\n\nThen he sought on all sides for the scabbard, but it could nowhere be\nfound. Disappointed in this, he at length turned and rode slowly back\nwith his companion to the abbey whence they had come, their souls filled\nwith wonder and awe.\n\nYet no sooner were they well gone than the enchantress brought another\ncharm to work, and at once she and all her people were turned again from\nstone into flesh and blood.\n\n\"Now we can go where we will; and may joy go with King Arthur,\" she\nsaid, with a laugh of triumph to her knights. \"Did you note him?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" they replied. \"And his countenance was so warlike that had we not\nbeen stone we could scarce have stood before him.\"\n\n\"I believe you,\" said Morgan. \"He would have made sad havoc among us but\nfor my spells.\"\n\nThey now rode onward, and soon afterwards met a knight who bore before\nhim on his horse another knight, who was unarmed, blindfolded, and bound\nhand and foot.\n\n\"What are you about to do with that knight?\" asked Morgan.\n\n\"To drown him in yonder fountain,\" was the reply. \"He has caused my wife\nto prove false to me, and only his death will avenge my honor.\"\n\n\"Is this the truth?\" she asked the bound knight.\n\n\"It is false,\" he replied. \"He is a villain to whom I have done no\nwrong. He took me unawares or I should not have been in such a state.\"\n\n\"Who are you, and of what country?\"\n\n\"My name is Manassen. I am of the court of King Arthur, and cousin to\nAccolan of Gaul.\"\n\n\"Then for the love I bore your cousin you shall be delivered, and this\nvillain be put in your plight.\"\n\nBy her orders Manassen was loosed from his bonds and the other knight\nbound. Manassen took from him his armor and horse, and riding with him\nto the fountain, flung him remorselessly in, where he met the fate\nwhich he had devised for his late prisoner. Then Manassen rode back to\nMorgan, and asked her if she had any word to send King Arthur.\n\n\"Tell him,\" she answered, \"that I rescued you not for love of him, but\nof Accolan; and that I fear him not while I can turn myself and my\nknights into stones. Let him know that you saw us riding in good flesh\nand blood, and laughing him to scorn. Tell him, moreover, that I can do\nstranger things than that if the need should come.\"\n\nBidding Manassen to return with this message, she rode with her train\ninto the country of Gore, where she was well received, and in the might\nof whose castles and towns she felt secure from Arthur's wrath, for much\nshe feared his vengeance should she fall into his hands.\n\nMeantime the king rode back to Camelot, where he was gladly received by\nhis queen and his knights, to whom he told in full the story of Morgan\nle Fay's treason. They were all angry at this, and many knights declared\nthat she should be burned.\n\n\"Stone will not burn,\" said Arthur. \"But God has punished her.\"\n\nBut as they thus conversed, Manassen came to the court and told the king\nof his adventure, delivering to him Morgan's message.\n\n\"Then the witch has tricked me!\" cried the king, in a tone of vexation.\n\"I might have known it, had I been wise. A kind sister she is, indeed!\nBut my turn will come. Treachery and magic may succeed for a time, but\nhonor must win in the end.\"\n\nYet despite the king's awakened distrust, he nearly fell a victim to his\nsister's vile enchantments. For on the succeeding morning there came a\ndamsel to the court from Morgan le Fay, bearing with her the richest\nmantle that had ever been seen there. It was set so full of precious\nstones that it might almost have stood alone, and some of them were gems\nworth a king's ransom.\n\n\"Your sister sends you this mantle,\" said the bearer. \"That she has done\nthings to offend you she knows and is sorry for; and she desires that\nyou shall take this gift from her as a tribute for her evil thoughts.\nWhat else can be done to amend her acts she will do, for she bitterly\nregrets her deeds of wickedness.\"\n\nThe mantle pleased the king greatly, though he made but brief reply as\nhe accepted it from the hand of the messenger.\n\nAt that perilous moment there came to him the damsel Nimue, who had so\nrecently helped him in his dire need.\n\n\"Sir, may I speak with you in private?\" she asked the king.\n\n\"What have you to say?\" he replied, withdrawing from the throng.\n\n\"It is this. Beware that you do not put on this mantle, and that no\nknight of yours puts it on, till you know more. The serpent does not so\nsoon lose its venom. There is death in the mantle's folds. At least do\nthis: before you wear it, command that she who brought it shall put it\non.\"\n\n\"Well said,\" answered the king. \"It shall be done as you advise.\"\n\nThen he returned to the messenger and said,--\n\n\"Damsel, I wish to see the mantle you have brought me tried upon\nyourself.\"\n\n\"A king's garment on me, sir! That would not be seemly.\"\n\n\"Seemly or not, I command it. By my head, you shall wear it before it\ncome on my back, or that of any man here.\"\n\nThe damsel drew back, quivering with fear and growing pale as death. But\nthe king commanded those about him to put it on her. Then was seen a\nmarvellous and fearful thing. For no sooner had the enchanted robe been\nclasped around her form than flames burst out from its every thread, and\nin a minute she fell to the floor dead, while her body was burnt to a\ncoal.\n\nThe king's anger burst out fiercely at this, and his face flamed with\nthe fire of rage. He turned to King Uriens and his son, who stood among\nthe knights.\n\n\"My sister, your wife, is doing her utmost to destroy me,\" he said, in\nburning wrath. \"Are you and my nephew, your son, joined with her in this\nwork of treachery? Yet I suspect not you, King Uriens, for Accolan\nconfessed to me that she would have slain you as well as me. But as for\nyour son, Uwaine, I hold him suspected, and banish him from my court. I\ncan have no traitors about me.\"\n\nWhen these words had been spoken, Gawaine rose in anger, and said,--\n\n\"Whoever banishes my cousin banishes me. When and where Uwaine goes I go\nalso.\"\n\nAnd with a stride of anger he left the great hall, followed by Uwaine.\nThen the two knights armed themselves, and rode together from Camelot,\nGawaine vowing never to return till his cousin had been fully and freely\npardoned.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nThe Country of Strange Adventures.\n\n\nThe two knights who had so hastily departed from Arthur's court were\ndestined to see many and strange adventures before they should return.\nAnd as their wanderings and deeds were caused by the treason of Morgan\nle Fay, it is meet that they should here be told.\n\nThey spent their first night in an abbey not far from Camelot, and on\nthe next morning rode forward until they came to a forest. Passing\nthrough this, they at length found themselves in a valley near a tower.\nHere they beheld two knights fully armed and seated on their war-horses,\nwhile twelve damsels were seen to pass to and fro beneath a tree.\n\nWhen the wanderers came nearer they saw that on that tree hung a white\nshield, and that as the damsels passed by this they spat upon it and\nbefouled it with mire.\n\n\"Why do you do this despite to the shield?\" they asked, as they came up.\n\n\"Sir knights,\" answered the damsels, \"we have good cause for what we do.\nHe who has hung his shield here is a knight of great prowess, but he is\none who hates all ladies, and this is how we repay him for his hatred.\"\n\n\"I think little of such a knight,\" said Gawaine. \"Yet it may be that he\nhas good cause for his hatred. He must love ladies elsewhere, if not\nhere, if he be so good a knight as you say. For it is said that the\ndespiser of ladies is never worthy in arms. What is the name of this\nknight?\"\n\n\"His name is Marhaus. He is the son of the king of Ireland.\"\n\n\"I know him well,\" said Uwaine. \"There is no man of more valor living. I\nsaw him once at a tournament where no knight could stand before him.\"\n\n\"If this is his shield,\" said Gawaine, \"he will soon be here in person,\nand it may not prove so easy for these knights to face him on horseback\nas for them to stand by and see his shield befouled. It is not our\nquarrel, but we shall stay no longer to see this dishonor.\"\n\nBefore they had withdrawn far, however, they saw the Irish knight riding\ntowards his shield, and halted to note what would follow. At sight of\nhim the damsels shrieked with terror, and ran so wildly towards the\nturret that some of them fell by the way. But one of the knights\nadvanced his shield and cried loudly,--\n\n\"Sir Marhaus, defend yourself!\"\n\nThen he and Marhaus rode fiercely together, the knight breaking his\nspear without effect, while Marhaus smote him in return so hard a blow\nthat he was hurled to the ground with a broken neck. Then the other\nknight rode against Marhaus, but with the same ill success, for both\nhorse and man were smitten so furiously that they fell to the earth\ndead.\n\nThen the knight of Ireland rode to his shield, and when he saw how\nfoully it had been used he cried,--\n\n\"This is a foul shame; but I have requited it upon those dastards. For\nthe love of her who gave me this white shield I shall wear it, and hang\nmine where it was.\"\n\nThereupon he took the white shield, and left in its place the one he had\njust used.\n\nThen, seeing the two errant knights, he asked them what they did there.\nThey answered that they were from Arthur's court, and had ridden in\nsearch of adventures.\n\n\"Then you can have one here,\" said Marhaus. \"I shall be glad to joust\nwith you.\"\n\nHe rode away from them to the proper range, without waiting for a reply.\n\n\"Let him go,\" said Uwaine. \"I fear he is more than our match.\"\n\n\"I care not if he is,\" said Gawaine. \"However good a knight he be, he\nshall not challenge us unanswered.\"\n\n\"Then let me meet him first. I am the weaker, and if he strikes me down\nyou can revenge me.\"\n\nWith these words Uwaine took his place and rode against the Irish\nknight, but with such ill fortune that he was hurled to the earth with a\nwounded side. When Gawaine saw this he prepared for the joust, and the\ntwo knights rode together with great force. But, as luck would have it,\nGawaine's spear broke, while that of Marhaus held firm. In consequence,\nboth Gawaine and his horse went to the ground.\n\nIn an instant the knight was on his feet, sword in hand, and advancing\ntowards his adversary. Marhaus drew his sword and moved upon him\nmounted.\n\n\"Meet me on foot,\" cried Gawaine, \"or I will kill your horse.\"\n\n\"Gramercy, you teach me courtesy,\" said Marhaus, \"It is not fair for one\nknight to be on foot and the other on horse.\"\n\nThen he sprang to the ground, set his spear against a tree, and tied his\nhorse. This done, he drew his sword and advanced upon Gawaine.\n\nThe combat that succeeded was long and hotly contested, beginning at\nnine in the morning and lasting till the day was well advanced. Never\nhad that forest known so obstinate and fierce a fight. And from nine of\nthe clock till the hour of noon Gawaine grew stronger and stronger, till\nhis might was thrice increased and Marhaus had much ado to stand before\nhim. But as the day waned from noon onwards Gawaine grew feeble, while\nthe strength of Marhaus steadily increased, his form seeming to grow\nlarger with every hour. At length it came that Gawaine could scarcely\nstand before him.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" said Marhaus, \"this I will say, that I never met a better\nman than yourself, and we have had a noble passage at arms. But as we\nhave no quarrel, and I can see you are growing feeble, it were a pity to\ndo you more harm. If you are willing, I agree to end the fight.\"\n\n\"That should I have said, gentle knight,\" answered Gawaine. \"I am much\nbeholden to your courtesy.\"\n\nThereupon they took off their helmets and kissed each other, and swore\nto love one another thenceforth as brethren in arms. Marhaus prayed that\nthe two knights would lodge with him that night, and they rode together\ntowards his dwelling.\n\n\"I marvel,\" said Gawaine, as they rode forward, \"that so good a knight\nas you should love no ladies.\"\n\n\"I love not such as those minxes of the tower, nor any of their sort,\"\nsaid Marhaus. \"They are a false-hearted and vile-thinking crew. But to\nall honorable women I owe the best of my knightly service.\"\n\nThey soon reached the dwelling, which was in a little priory, and here\nMarhaus gave them the best cheer at his disposal, the more so when he\nlearned that they were sons of King Arthur's sisters. Here they remained\nseven days, until their wounds had fully healed. On the eighth day they\ntook horse again to continue their journey.\n\n\"We shall not part so lightly,\" said Marhaus. \"I shall bring you through\nthe forest, and mayhap ride farther with you.\"\n\nFor seven days more they rode onward without adventure. Then they found\nthemselves on the borders of a still greater forest, in what was known\nas the country and forest of Arroy and the land of strange adventures.\n\n\"It is well named,\" said Marhaus. \"For it is said that no knight ever\nrode into this country and failed to find adventures many and\nmarvellous.\"\n\nThey rode onward into the forest before them, and in good time found\nthemselves in a deep and stony valley, traversed by a fair stream of\nwater.\n\nFollowing this upward, they soon came to a fair fountain, the head of\nthe stream, beside which three damsels were seated.\n\nOf these, the eldest was not less than threescore years of age. She wore\na garland of gold upon her head, and her hair was white beneath it. The\nsecond damsel was thirty years of age, and she also wore a circlet of\ngold. The third was not over fifteen years old, and her garland was of\nflowers.\n\nThe knights halted and looked at them in surprise, asking them why they\nsat by that lonely fountain.\n\n\"We are here to await knights-errant who come in quest of adventures,\"\nthey said. \"If you three knights are in search of things strange and\nstirring, each of you must choose one of us. When this is done we shall\nlead you unto three highways, one of which each of you must take, and\nhis damsel with him. This day twelvemonth you must meet here again, and\nto all this you must pledge your troth, if God give you your lives to\nreturn.\"\n\n\"You speak well,\" said Marhaus. \"Adventures we seek, and no true\nknight-errant hesitates before the unknown and the dangerous. We shall\ndo as you say, each of us choose one of you, and then, whatsoever\nfortune wills, let it come.\"\n\n\"As for me,\" said Uwaine, \"since I am the youngest and weakest of the\nthree, I choose the eldest damsel. I have more need of help than either\nof you, and her age and knowledge may aid me well.\"\n\n\"Then I shall take her of middle age,\" said Marhaus. \"She fits me best.\"\n\n\"I thank you both,\" said Gawaine. \"You have left me the youngest and\nfairest, and the one most to my liking.\"\n\nThis said, each damsel took the reins of her knight, and they led them\nto the parting of the three ways. Here the knights took oath to meet at\nthe fountain that day twelvemonth if they were living, kissed each\nother, and departed, each knight taking his chosen lady on his steed\nbehind him. Of the three ways, Uwaine took that which lay west, Marhaus\nthat which lay south, and Gawaine took the way that lay north.\n\nOf the three we shall first follow Gawaine, who rode forward until he\ncame to a fair manor, where dwelt an old knight.\n\n\"Are there any adventures to be found in this country?\" he asked him.\n\n\"I shall show you some marvellous ones to-morrow,\" said his host.\n\nIn the morning, Gawaine and the old knight rode into the forest of\nadventures till they came to a wide, open lawn, upon which stood a\ncross. Here they halted and looked about them, and ere long saw\napproaching a knight of seemly aspect, who made the bitterest\nlamentations as he advanced. When he saw Gawaine he saluted him, and\nhoped that God would send him honor.\n\n\"As to that, gramercy,\" said Gawaine. \"I pray God, in return, that he\nsend you honor and worship.\"\n\n\"That will not come,\" said the knight. \"He sendeth me but sorrow and\nshame.\"\n\nAs he spoke he passed on to the other side of the lawn. Here Gawaine saw\nten knights, standing with shields and spears ready against this one\nwarrior. But he rode against them one by one, thrusting some over their\nhorses' tails, and hurling others to the ground, horse and man, until\nwith one spear he had unhorsed them all.\n\nBut when they were all ten on foot they went to the dolorous knight, who\nstood stone still, pulled him from his horse, and tied him beneath the\nanimal, without the least resistance on his part. This done, they led\nhim away, thus shamefully bound.\n\n\"That is an ugly sight,\" said Gawaine. \"Why does a knight of such\nprowess as this suffer himself to be so vilely treated?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said, the damsel to Gawaine, \"why helped you not that good\nknight?\"\n\n\"He seems to want no help,\" said Gawaine. \"He could have taken care of\nhimself if he would.\"\n\n\"You had no desire to help him,\" retorted the damsel, \"or you would not\nhave stood by and seen so noble a warrior so foully served.\"\n\nAs they talked a knight appeared on the other side of the lawn, all\narmed but the head. And opposite him came a dwarf on horseback similarly\narmed. He had a great mouth and a short nose, and was as ill favored as\none would care to see.\n\n\"Where is the lady who should meet us here?\" asked the dwarf.\n\nIn response thereto a fair lady rode from the wood, mounted on a\nhandsome palfrey. On seeing her the knight and the dwarf began to\nstrive in hot words for her, each saying that she should be his prize.\n\n\"Yonder is a knight at the cross,\" said the dwarf, at length. \"Let us\nleave it to him, and abide by his decision.\"\n\n\"I agree to that,\" said the knight.\n\nThereupon they rode to Gawaine and told him the purpose of their strife.\n\n\"Do you put the matter into my hands?\" he asked.\n\n\"Yes,\" they both replied.\n\n\"Then this is my decision. Let the lady stand between you and make her\nown choice. The one she chooses, he shall have her.\"\n\nThis was done, and at once the lady turned from the knight and went to\nthe dwarf. Then the dwarf took her and went singing away, while the\nknight rode in grief and sorrow into the forest.\n\nBut the adventures of that day were not ended, for soon afterwards two\narmed knights rode from the forest, and one of them cried out loudly,--\n\n\"Sir Gawaine, knight of King Arthur, I am here to joust with you. So\nmake ready.\"\n\n\"Since you know me, I shall not fail you,\" answered Gawaine.\n\nThen the knights drew apart, and rode so furiously together that both\nwere unhorsed. Springing up, they drew their swords and continued the\nbattle on foot.\n\nMeanwhile, the second knight went to the damsel and asked why she stayed\nwith that knight, and begged her to go with him.\n\n\"That I will do,\" she replied. \"I like not the way Gawaine acted just\nnow, when one brave knight was overturned by ten dastards. So let us go\nwhile they fight.\"\n\nThe combat continued long, and then, as the knights seemed evenly\nmatched, they ceased in amity, the stranger knight inviting Gawaine to\nspend the night at his lodge. As they rode thither he asked his host,--\n\n\"Who is this valiant champion that overturns ten knights, and then\nsuffers them to bear him off bound hand and foot? I never saw so\nshameful a thing done.\"\n\n\"The thing has happened ten times and more,\" said Sir Carados. \"The\nknight is one of noble prowess, named Sir Pelleas, and he loves a great\nlady of this country named Ettard, who loves him not in return. What you\nhave seen came about in this way. There was of late days a great\ntournament in this country, at which Pelleas struck down every knight\nwho was opposed to him, unhorsing twenty knights within three days. His\nvalor and prowess won him the prize, which was a good sword, and a\ngolden circlet to be given to the fairest lady at the lists. This\ncirclet of gold he gave to the lady Ettard, whom he chose for the\nsovereign of his heart and the lady he loved above all women. But she\nwas so proud and haughty that she returned him scorn for his love, and\nthough he has followed her to her home she will not listen to his suit,\nor admit him in honor to her presence. He is lodged here near her, but\ncan gain sight of her only in a shameful way. Every week she sends\nknights to fight with him, and when he has overcome them he suffers\nthem to take him prisoner that he may feast his eyes on the face of his\nloved lady. But she does him great despite, for sometimes she has him\nbrought in tied to his horse's tail, and sometimes bound under the\nhorse, or in any other shameful manner she can think of. For all this he\nwill not leave, but makes himself a martyr to his love.\"\n\n\"He is a noble knight, and I greatly pity him,\" said Gawaine. \"I shall\nseek him to-morrow in the forest, and do what I can to help him.\"\n\nIn the morning he met Sir Pelleas, as he had promised, and heard from\nhim the story of his woe.\n\n\"If I loved her not so truly I should rather die a hundred times than\nsuffer such despite,\" he said. \"But I trust that she will pity and love\nme at last.\"\n\n\"Let me aid you, so far as I can,\" said Gawaine. \"I promise to do my\nutmost to gain you the love of your lady.\"\n\n\"Tell me who, and of what court, you are, my good friend?\" asked\nPelleas.\n\n\"My name is Gawaine; I am nephew to King Arthur, and King Lot of Orkney\nwas my father.\"\n\n\"My name is Pelleas,\" answered the lovelorn knight. \"I was born in the\nIsles, and am lord of many isles, but never till this unhappy time have\nI loved a lady. I pray you help me faithfully, for I get nothing from\nher but vile rebuke. She will not even hold me as prisoner, that I might\nsee her daily, but robs me of my horse and armor, and has me thrust\ndespitefully from her gates. She lives in a strong castle near by, and\nis lady of all this country. I fear you will not find it easy to obtain\nentrance.\"\n\n\"I shall use art instead of strength,\" said Gawaine. \"Lend me your horse\nand armor, and I will ride to her castle and tell her I have slain you.\nShe will let me in at that. Once admitted, I shall do my best to win you\nher love.\"\n\nHe plighted his honor to this, and therewith they changed horses and\narmor.\n\nLeaving the knight of the doleful visage, Gawaine rode to Ettard's\ncastle, whom he found in her pavilion outside the gate. On seeing him\nshe hastily fled to the castle, but he called her loudly, declaring that\nhe was not Pelleas, and that he had slain the knight and won his horse\nand armor.\n\n\"Take off your helm,\" she replied. \"Let me see your face.\"\n\nGawaine did so, and when she saw that he spoke the truth she bade him\nalight and led him into the castle, questioning him who he was and how\nhe had slain her tormenting admirer.\n\n\"I am sorry for his death,\" she said, \"for he was a worthy knight; but\nof all men I hated him most, and could never rid myself of his\nimportunities. As for you, Sir Gawaine, since you have done me this\nservice, I shall be your lady, for I cannot but love you.\"\n\nThen Gawaine was so entranced by the lady Ettard's blue eyes and fair\nface that he shamefully forgot his word of honor, and warmly returned\nher love. He remained with her and her knights in the castle, so happy\nin her presence as to ignore all the claims of duty and knightly faith.\n\nIt was now the month of May, and the air had grown warm and balmy. So it\nhappened one evening that they all left the castle to enjoy themselves\non the flowery meads outside. Believing Pelleas to be dead, Ettard lost\nall dread of unwelcome intrusion, and suggested that they should spend\nthe night in the open air, lulled to sleep by the soft winds and the\nperfume of flowers.\n\nBut by fortune it chanced that Pelleas, hearing no word from Gawaine,\nthat night mounted his horse and rode to the castle. It was a late hour,\nand he was surprised to see pavilions erected outside the gate, and\ncouches spread in the open air. As he came near he saw knights and\nladies asleep on these, while side by side lay Ettard and Gawaine,\nlocked in deep slumber.\n\nAnger and pain so filled the knight's heart at this that he drew his\nsword to slay his faithless friend, but on calmer thought he laid the\nnaked blade athwart the throats of knight and lady and rode away. On\nreaching his tent, he told his attendants what treachery he had endured,\nand that he had resolved to take to his bed and lie there till he should\ndie.\n\n\"And when I am dead I charge you to take my heart and bear it to the\nlady Ettard in a silver dish, and tell her that her falseness has slain\nthe faithfulest of lovers.\"\n\nMeanwhile Gawaine and Ettard awoke, and their dread was great on finding\nthe sword across their throats.\n\n\"It is Pelleas's sword!\" she cried. \"You have betrayed him and me both,\nfor you lied to me in saying that you had killed him. Only that he has\nproved himself a man of true honor, he would have slain us both. Leave\nme, traitor! Never let me see your false face again!\"\n\nGawaine had no words in answer, but hastily mounted his horse and rode\ninto the forest, feeling at heart that he had proved a traitor both to\nhonor and love.\n\nWhen morning dawned it happened that Nimue, the damsel of the lake, who\nby chance had come into that country, met with a follower of Sir\nPelleas, who was grieving sorely for the ill fortune of his master. She\nasked him the cause of his grief, and he told her the woeful tale of the\nlovelorn knight, and how he had taken to his bed, vowing never again to\nrise.\n\n\"He shall not die of love, I warrant you that,\" she said. \"Bring me to\nhim. I promise you that she who has treated him so vilely shall feel all\nthe pain she has made him endure.\"\n\nShe was accordingly brought to the tent of Pelleas, and a feeling of\npity and love grew in her heart as she looked on his noble and woe-worn\nface while he lay asleep. Therefore she deepened his slumber with a\nspell of enchantment, and charging that no man should wake him before\nher return, she rode through the forest to Ettard's castle.\n\nWithin two hours she brought the lady Ettard to the tent, where Pelleas\nstill lay wrapped in deep slumber.\n\n\"You should do penance for life to murder such a knight as this,\" she\nsaid. \"You have treated a true lover with shameful despite, and for\nlove's sake you shall pay the penalty of your misdeeds.\"\n\nThen she threw so deep a spell of enchantment on the proud lady that her\nformer scorn turned to the deepest love, and her heart went out to\nPelleas as if it would break with sorrow and remorse.\n\n\"Alas!\" she cried, \"I hated him above all men. What has befallen me that\nI love him now with my whole soul?\"\n\n\"It is God's righteous judgment,\" said Nimue.\n\nAs they spoke Pelleas awoke, and when he looked upon Ettard his eyes\nfilled with scorn and hatred.\n\n\"Away, traitress!\" he cried. \"Never again come within my sight. You have\ntaught me to hate you as much as I ever loved.\"\n\nThese scornful words wounded Ettard to the soul. She turned away weeping\nbitterly, and left the tent overwhelmed with anguish.\n\n\"Take your horse and leave this country, Sir Pelleas,\" said the damsel.\n\"Love not again till you can give your heart to a lady who is worthy of\nit.\"\n\n\"I have found such a one now,\" said the knight, fixing his eyes with\nwarm feeling upon her face. \"This lady Ettard has treated me\ndespitefully and turned all my love for her to hatred and scorn. But the\nlove I felt for her has gone out to you.\"\n\n\"Thank me for your delivery,\" said Nimue. \"It is too soon to talk of\nlove. But this I may say, that if you love me as you vow, you shall not\nfind me another Ettard.\"\n\nSoon after Pelleas arose and armed, and bidding his men to follow with\nthe pavilions and furniture, rode into the forest with the damsel of the\nlake, for whom the love in his heart grew each moment warmer.\n\n[Illustration: THE LOVE OF PELLEAS AND NIMUE.]\n\nAnd thus this woeful story ends in true love's joy and retribution; for\nthe false lady Ettard died in lovelorn sorrow, but Pelleas and Nimue\nlived together in true love during the remainder of their days, she\nbecoming his dear lady and wife.\n\nMeanwhile Marhaus and Uwaine pursued their course and had their\nadventures, but they were not so many and strange as those of Gawaine,\nand therefore we shall not tell them in full.\n\nAs for Uwaine, who rode away with the old damsel, he gained great honor\nat a tournament near the Welsh marches, winning the prize, which was a\ngerfalcon, and a white steed with trappings of cloth of gold. Many other\nadventures he had, and at last came to the castle of a noble lady, who\nwas called the Lady of the Rock. Her lands had been taken from her by\ntwo robber knights, named Sir Edward and Sir Hue of the Red Castle.\nThese Uwaine fought together, and with such good fortune that he killed\nSir Edward and forced Sir Hue to surrender the lady's lands. Then he\ndwelt at the castle of the Lady of the Rock for six months, till he was\nhealed of the many and deep wounds he had received in his battle with\nthe robber knights.\n\nMeanwhile, Marhaus rode southward with the damsel of thirty summers.\nMany adventures he had, and he won a circlet of gold as the victor in a\ntournament. At length he stopped at the castle of a noble earl named\nFergus, whose lands were harried by a giant named Taulard. Him Marhaus\nproffered to fight, as neither the earl nor any of his men dared meet\nhim.\n\nFierce and perilous was the battle that followed, for the giant was of\nmonstrous height and strength, and armed with iron clubs and great\nbattle-axes. But after a terrible contest, Marhaus, by a nimble stroke,\ncut off Taulard's right arm. Then the giant, bellowing with pain and\nterror, fled, and rushed into a stream of water beyond his pursuer's\nreach. But stones were brought to Marhaus by Fergus's men, and with\nthese he battered the giant so sorely that at length he fell over into\nthe water, where he was quickly drowned.\n\nAfterwards the victorious champion went to the giant's castle, where he\nfound in close captivity twenty-four ladies and twelve knights. These he\ndelivered from prison. He found also a great store of wealth, enough to\nmake him rich for the remainder of his life.\n\nWhen the year ended the three knights met again at the fountain, two of\nthem with their damsels; but Gawaine had lost his, and had come back\nmuch shorn of honor. Soon after they met by chance a messenger from King\nArthur, who had long been seeking the banished knights, with orders to\nbring them back to the court.\n\nSo the three knights journeyed to Camelot, where the king received them\ngraciously, and listened with admiration to the story of their\nadventures. And there, at the feast of Pentecost, came Pelleas and\nNimue, true lovers plighted. Then were held high feasts and tournaments,\nwhere many noble knights splintered spears and much honor was lost and\nwon. And here Marhaus and Pelleas bore themselves with such noble and\nmighty prowess, that all men vowed the glory of the tournament was\ntheirs, and King Arthur, glad to reward such deeds of valor, made them\nKnights of the Table Round.\n\n\n\n\n BOOK IV.\n\n LANCELOT OF THE LAKE.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nHOW TROUBLE CAME TO LIONEL AND HECTOR.\n\n\nAfter the strange deeds and adventures that have just been described, a\nseason of war came again to King Arthur and his realm, through which he\nwon great honor and renown. For Lucius, the Emperor of Rome, sent\nambassadors to Arthur, demanding tribute; and when he proudly refused\nthis demand Lucius gathered a great army and invaded the tributary\ndomains of Arthur, in Gaul.\n\nLong and fierce was the war that followed, for Arthur crossed to Gaul\nwith all the power of his realm; fought and killed, single-handed, a\nhuge giant who dwelt on St. Michael's Mount; defeated the army of Rome,\nand killed the emperor in single combat; and in the end was crowned\nemperor, in the imperial city of Rome.\n\nAll this story the chronicles give at length, and tell us also that in\nthis war the noble Lancelot du Lake, son of King Ban of Gaul, gained his\nfirst measure of renown.\n\nAfter the war had ended and the victorious host returned to England,\nmany adventures came to Lancelot, some of which we must here tell.\nGreat indeed was the valor and might of this worthiest of knights, who\nin after years proved himself in knightly prowess and chivalric honor\nthe noblest of men. In tournaments and deeds of arms, in sportive war or\nbattle for life or death, he passed all other knights, and was never\novercome but by treason or enchantment.\n\nAfter Arthur's return from Rome sports and feasts were given, and jousts\nand tournaments held, in which the Knights of the Round Table took part,\nmany who had gained no great fame in the war now proving themselves able\nand worthy warriors. But above them all Lancelot displayed such skill\nand prowess that he increased in honor and worship beyond any knight of\nArthur's court.\n\nAnd, as fortune and fate decreed, he loved Queen Guenever above all\nother ladies, while she held him in favor above all other knights,--a\nfavor that was destined thereafter to bring deep sorrow and trouble to\nEngland's realm. For her sake he did many noble deeds of arms, and he\nwas looked upon as her especial champion by all the court.\n\nAfter the return from Rome Lancelot rested long at the court, taking\npart in all its feasts and gayeties. But in time he grew weary of sport\nand play, and of the idle ways and empty flatteries of courtiers, and\nfelt a strong desire to wander abroad in search of strange adventures.\nSo he bade his nephew, Sir Lionel, to make ready, saying to him that\nthey two would leave the court and ride as knights-errant through the\nland, to right wrongs and punish crimes, to rescue the oppressed and\noverthrow the proud and haughty, and knightly to do and dare wherever\nthey went.\n\nSo on a day in spring, when the summer was coming with its flowers to\nadorn the rich green of the grassy meads, and the birds sang gayly in\nthe trees, the two knights armed themselves at all points and rode\nabroad, passing soon through a deep forest and into a verdant plain\nbeyond.\n\nNoon now came on, and the weather grew close and sultry, so that\nLancelot became drowsy. This he told to Lionel, who pointed to a large\napple-tree by a hedge, and said,--\n\n\"Yonder is a cool shadow. There we may rest ourselves and our horses\ntill the noontide heat has passed.\"\n\n\"You speak to the point,\" said Lancelot. \"Not for seven years have I\nbeen so sleepy as I am now?\"\n\nThey thereupon alighted, and tied their horses to neighboring trees, and\nLancelot laid himself down beneath the apple-boughs, with his helmet\nunder his head for a pillow. Soon he was in deep slumber, though Lionel\nkept awake.\n\nAs they lay thus three knights came riding by in panic fear, pushing\ntheir horses to the utmost speed, while a single knight followed them in\nfurious pursuit. So well-made and strong-limbed a man as this Lionel\nthought he had never seen nor one in all respects so fully armed.\n\nAs he looked, the pursuing knight overtook one of the fugitives, and\nwith a thrust of his spear flung him prostrate to the ground. Then he\nserved the other two in the same manner. This done, he alighted and\nbound the three knights with their own bridle-reins.\n\n[Illustration: Copyright by Frederick Hollyer, London, England.\n\nDREAM OF SIR LANCELOT.]\n\nWhen Lionel saw this, anger filled his soul, and he thought to win\nhonor in a bout of arms with this vigorous champion, so he quietly took\nhis horse, so as not to waken Lancelot, and rode towards the victor,\nloudly bidding him turn and try his fortune in a joust.\n\nBut the ambitious young knight soon found that he had let youthful pride\nbring him into trouble, for the strong warrior smote him so hard a blow\nthat horse and man went together to the earth. Then the victor alighted\nand served Lionel as he had done the others, binding him and flinging\nhim athwart his own horse.\n\nHe did the same with the three others, and rode away with his prisoners,\nuntil he came to a castle that lay beyond the plain. Here he forced them\nto remove their armor, and beat their naked skin with thorns till they\nwere ready to swoon with the pain. Then he had them thrust into a deep\nprison where were many other knights, whose groans and lamentations\nfilled the air with doleful sounds.\n\nThrough all this Lancelot slept on, nor did he waken from his slumber\ntill another misadventure had taken place. For Sir Hector de Maris, the\nbrother of Lionel, finding that Lancelot had left the court to seek\nadventures, was angry that he had not been asked to keep him company,\nand rode hastily after him, hoping to overtake him.\n\nAfter he had ridden long in the forest he met a man dressed like a\nforester, and asked him if any knightly adventures could be found near\nby.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" answered the forester, \"I know this country well, and can\npromise you all, and mayhap more, than you want. Within a mile of here\nis a strong manor; by that manor, on the left hand, is a fair ford for\nhorses to drink at; over that ford there grows a spreading tree; and on\nthat tree hang many shields which good knights once wielded. On the\ntrunk of the tree you will see a basin of brass and copper, and if you\nseek an adventure you have but to strike that basin thrice with the butt\nof your spear. If then you do not soon hear tidings of interest, you\nwill have the best fortune of any knight who has passed through this\nforest for many a long year.\"\n\n\"Gramercy, for your tidings,\" said Hector, and rode rapidly on.\n\nSoon he came to the manor and the tree, and saw the shields of which the\nforester had told him, and to his surprise and grief he noted among them\nthe shield of his brother Lionel, and many more that he knew belonged to\nRound Table knights. Then, with a heart full of thoughts of revenge, he\nbeat upon the basin roundly with his spear, until its clang rung far and\nwide. This done, he turned his horse and let him drink at the ford.\n\nAs he stood there he heard a loud voice behind him, bidding him come out\nof the water and make ready, and looking round he beheld a\npowerfully-built knight on a strong horse.\n\nHector wheeled his horse sharply, and putting his spear in rest rode\nfuriously upon this knight, striking him so fierce a blow that his horse\nturned twice around.\n\n\"Well done,\" said the stranger. \"That was a knightly blow. But beware,\nit is my turn now.\"\n\nAs he spoke he spurred his horse at full speed upon Hector, and struck\nhim so skilfully that the spear-head passed under his right arm and bore\nhim clear of the saddle into the air. Then, carrying the knight like a\ntrussed hare on his spear, the victor rode onward into his own open\nhall, and flung his captive down in the middle of the floor.\n\n\"You have done more to me than any knight has done for twelve years\npast,\" said the victor, whose name was Sir Turquine. \"Therefore I will\ngrant you your life and the liberty of the castle, but you must swear to\nbe my prisoner until death.\"\n\n\"That will I never promise,\" said Hector. \"I will remain captive to no\nman if I can free myself.\"\n\n\"Then I shall take care that you do not escape,\" said Turquine.\n\nWith these words he made Hector, on pain of death, remove his armor, and\nthen scourged him with thorns as he had done the others, and flung him\ninto the prison where lay so many of his fellows.\n\nWhen Hector saw his brother Lionel among these his heart was ready to\nbreak with sorrow.\n\n\"What has happened to Lancelot?\" he demanded. \"You rode with him, and\nhere you are a prisoner. Alas! tell me not that any harm has come to\nhim.\"\n\n\"Where he is and what he does I cannot tell,\" said Lionel. \"I left him\nasleep under an apple-tree and rode alone on this dolorous venture.\nWould that I had wakened him first.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" cried the knights, \"we may never be delivered unless Lancelot\ncomes to our aid. Of all knights living we know none but him who is a\nfair match for Turquine, our robber lord.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE CONTEST OF THE FOUR QUEENS.\n\n\nNoon had passed by, but the day was still warm, and Lancelot lay yet in\ndeep slumber, dreaming nothing of what had happened while he slept. But\nnow there rode by the apple-tree under which he lay a royal and\nbrilliant cavalcade. For in it were four queens of high estate, who were\nmounted on white mules, and attired in regal robes, while beside them\nrode four knights who bore on their spear-points a cloth of green silk,\nso held as to shield the queens from the heat of the sun.\n\nAs they rode by Lancelot's place of slumber they were startled by the\nloud neigh of a war-horse, and looking about them they became aware of\nthe sleeping knight beneath the apple-tree. They drew near and looked\nupon his face, and at once knew him for Lancelot du Lake. Then they\nbegan pleasantly to strive as to which of them should have the sleeping\nknight for her lover.\n\n\"Let me settle this debate,\" said Morgan le Fay, who was one of the\nqueens. \"I shall by enchantment make his sleep hold for six hours to\ncome, and shall have him borne to my castle. When he is safely within my\npower I shall remove the enchantment, and then he shall be made to\nchoose which of us he will have for his love. If he refuse us all he\nshall pay the penalty.\"\n\nShe did as she had said. Lancelot was laid sleeping upon his shield and\nborne on horseback between two knights, and so brought to a castle\nnamed Chariot, where he was laid, still slumbering, in a chamber. At\nnight-fall a fair damsel was sent to him with his supper ready prepared.\nBy that time the enchantment was past, and Lancelot woke as the damsel\ncame into his chamber and asked him how he fared.\n\n\"That I am not ready to say,\" answered Lancelot; \"for I know not how I\ncame into this castle unless it were by enchantment.\"\n\n\"As to that I cannot speak,\" she replied. \"I can but bid you eat. If you\nbe such a knight as men say, I shall tell you more to-morrow morn.\"\n\n\"Thanks, fair damsel,\" said Lancelot. \"It pleases me to have your good\nwill.\"\n\nLittle comfort had the good knight of that night's sleep; but early in\nthe morning there came to him the four queens, each dressed in her\nrichest attire, adorned with rare jewels, and as beautiful as art and\nskill could make them.\n\nThey bade him good morning and he returned their greeting, looking upon\nthem with eyes of admiration, but not of love.\n\n\"You are our prisoner, sir knight,\" said Morgan. \"We know you well. You\nare Lancelot of the Lake, King Ban's son. And well we understand that\nyou are named the worthiest knight living, and that men say that no lady\nin the land but Queen Guenever can have your love. But this we would\nhave you know, that you must choose one of us four as your heart's\nqueen, for if you refuse you shall never see Arthur's queen again. I am\nMorgan le Fay, queen of the land of Gore, and here is the Queen of\nNorthgalis, the Queen of East-land, and the Queen of the Out Islands. We\nbid you to forget Guenever and choose of us the one you will have for\nyour love. If you choose not it will be worse for you, for I shall hold\nyou in prison until death.\"\n\n\"This is a hard chance,\" said Lancelot, \"that I must die in prison or\nprofess a love that I do not feel. Let me tell you this, though I die\ntwice in your dungeon I will have none of you, for you are false\nenchantresses and not true dames for honest men to love. As for dame\nGuenever, were I at liberty I would prove it on all the knights whom you\ncommand that she is of all ladies the truest to her lord.\"\n\n\"Is this, then, your answer,\" said Morgan, \"that you disdain our love?\"\n\n\"On my life it is!\" cried Lancelot. \"Such love as yours is not for\nhonest knights; and my love is not to be had for the bidding.\"\n\n\"You may live to change your mind,\" said Morgan. \"Prison life and prison\nfare may cure your pride.\"\n\nWith these words they departed, leaving Lancelot in gloom of mind but\nsteadfastness of heart.\n\nAt noon, the damsel who had brought him his supper the night before came\nwith his dinner, and asked him again how he fared.\n\n\"Never so ill,\" said Lancelot. \"For never before was I held under lock\nand key, and never was worthy knight so shamefully entreated.\"\n\n\"It grieves me deeply to see you in such distress,\" she said. \"If you\nwill be ruled by me, and make me a promise, you shall be set free from\nthis prison, though at the risk of my life.\"\n\n\"I will grant your wish if it be in my power,\" said Lancelot. \"These\nqueenly sorceresses have destroyed many a good knight, and I would give\nmuch to be out of their hands.\"\n\n\"They crave your love from what they have heard of your honor and\nrenown,\" answered the damsel. \"They say your name is Lancelot du Lake,\nthe flower of knights, and your refusal of their love has filled their\nsouls with anger. But for my aid you might die in their hands. The\npromise I ask is this. On Tuesday morning next there is to be a\ntournament between my father and the King of Northgalis. My father was\nlately overpowered by three of Arthur's knights, and if you will be\nthere and help him in this coming fray I will engage to deliver you from\nyour bondage at dawn to-morrow.\"\n\n\"Tell me your father's name,\" said Lancelot, \"and then you shall have my\nanswer.\"\n\n\"His name is King Bagdemagus.\"\n\n\"I know him well,\" said Lancelot. \"He is a noble king and a good knight.\nBy the faith of my body, I promise to give him what aid I can.\"\n\n\"A hundred thanks, dear sir,\" she said. \"Be ready to-morrow early. I\nshall be here to deliver you, and take you to where you can find your\nhorse and armor. Within ten miles of this castle is an abbey of white\nmonks. There I beg you to stay and thither I shall bring my father to\nyou.\"\n\n\"As I am a true knight you can trust me,\" said Lancelot.\n\nWith this the damsel departed. But at early dawn of the next day she\ncame again, as she had promised, and found Lancelot ready and eager for\nflight. Then they crept through hall and passage, with heedful tread and\nbated breath, until she had opened twelve locked doors and reached the\ncastle yard.\n\nThe sun was just giving its rose tints to the east when she brought him\nto the place where his horse and armor were kept, and with hasty fingers\nhelped him to arm. Then, taking a great spear and mounting his noble\nsteed, Lancelot rode forth, saying cheerily,--\n\n\"Fair damsel, by the grace of God I shall not fail you.\"\n\nAnd still slumber lay deep upon the castle, and not one of the queens\nnor a soul of those who dwelt therein was wakened by the sound.\n\nBut not far had the escaping knight departed from the castle before he\nentered a thick forest, in whose depths he wandered lost all that day,\nfinding no high road, and no trace of the abbey of white monks. Night at\nlength came upon him, and now he found himself in a valley where he saw\na pavilion of red sendal.\n\n\"Fortune aids me,\" said Lancelot. \"Whoever owns that pavilion, it shall\ngive me shelter for the night.\"\n\nHe thereupon alighted, tied his horse to a tree near by, and entered the\npavilion, in which was a comfortable bed. Disarming, he laid himself\ntherein, and very soon was lost in heavy slumber.\n\nWithin an hour afterwards the knight who owned the pavilion came\nthither, and laid himself upon the bed without noticing that it was\nalready occupied. His entrance wakened Lancelot, who, on feeling this\nintrusion, sprang in quick alarm from the bed and grasped his sword. The\nother knight, no less alarmed, did the same, and sword in hand they\nrushed out from the pavilion into the open air, and fell into mortal\ncombat by the side of a little stream that there ran past.\n\nThe fight was quickly at an end, for after a few passes the knight of\nthe pavilion fell to the earth, wounded nearly unto death.\n\n\"I yield me, sir knight,\" he cried. \"But I fear I have fought my last.\"\n\n\"Why came you into my bed?\" demanded Lancelot.\n\n\"The pavilion is my own,\" said the knight. \"It is ill fortune that I\nshould die for seeking my own bed.\"\n\n\"Then I am sorry to have hurt you,\" said Lancelot. \"I have lately been\nbeguiled by treason, and was in dread of it. Come into the pavilion. It\nmay be that I can stanch your blood.\"\n\nThey entered the pavilion, where Lancelot, with skilful hands, dressed\nthe knight's wound and stopped the bleeding. As he did so the knight's\nlady entered the pavilion, and fell into deep lamentation and accusal of\nLancelot, on seeing how sorely her lord was hurt.\n\n\"Peace, my lady and love,\" said the knight. \"This is a worthy and\nhonorable gentleman. I am in fault for my hurt, and he has saved my life\nby his skill and care.\"\n\n\"Will you tell me what knight you are?\" asked the lady.\n\n\"Fair lady,\" he replied, \"my name is Lancelot du Lake.\"\n\n\"So your face and voice told me,\" she replied, \"for I have seen you\noften, and know you better than you deem. And I would ask of your\ncourtesy, for the harm you have done to my lord Beleus and the grief you\nhave given me, that you will cause my lord to be made a Knight of the\nRound Table. This I can say for him, that he is a man of warlike\nprowess, and the lord of many islands.\"\n\n\"Let him come to the court at the next high feast,\" said Lancelot; \"and\ncome you with him. I shall do what I can for him, and if he prove as\ngood a knight as you say, I doubt not but King Arthur will grant your\nrequest.\"\n\nWhile they still talked the night passed and the day dawned. Then\nLancelot armed himself, and asking of them the way to the abbey, rode\nthither, where he arrived within the space of two hours.\n\nAs Lancelot rode within the abbey yard, the damsel to whom he owed his\ndeliverance from the prison of Morgan le Fay sprang from a couch and ran\nto a window, roused by the loud clang of hoofs upon the pavement.\n\nSeeing who it was, she hurried gladly down, and bade some of the men to\ntake his horse to the stable, and others to lead him to a chamber,\nwhither she sent him a robe to wear when he had laid off his armor.\n\n[Illustration: OLD ARCHES OF THE ABBEY WALL.]\n\nThen she entered the chamber and bade him heartily welcome, saying that\nof all knights in the world he was the one she most wished to see.\nOrdering breakfast to be prepared for the hungry knight, she sent in\nhaste for her father, who was within twelve miles of the abbey. Before\neventide he came, and with him a fair following of knights.\n\nAs soon as King Bagdemagus reached the abbey, he went straight to the\nroom where were Lancelot and his daughter in conversation, and took\nLancelot in his arms, bidding him warmly welcome.\n\nIn the talk that followed, Lancelot told the king of his late\nadventures, the loss of his nephew Lionel, his own betrayal, and his\nrescue by the maiden, his daughter: \"For which,\" he said, \"I owe my best\nservice to her and hers while I live.\"\n\n\"Then can I trust in your help on Tuesday next?\" asked the king.\n\n\"That I have already promised your daughter,\" said Lancelot. \"I shall\nnot fail. But she tells me that in your last bout you lost the field\nthrough three of King Arthur's knights, who aided the King of\nNorthgalis, and that it is against these knights you need assistance.\nWhat knights were they?\"\n\n\"They were Sir Mador de la Porte, Sir Mordred, and Sir Gahalatine. Do\nwhat we could, neither I nor my knights could make head against them.\"\n\n\"I would not have them know me,\" said Lancelot. \"My plan, therefore, is\nthis. Send me here three of your best knights, and see that they have\nwhite shields, with no device, and that I also have such a shield. Then\nshall we four, when the fight is well on, come out of a wood into the\nmidst of the fray, and do what we can to defeat these champions.\"\n\nThis plan was carried out as Lancelot had devised. On the day fixed for\nthe tournament he, with his three white-shielded companions, placed\nhimself in ambush in a leafy grove near where the lists were raised.\nAround the field were rows of benches where the spectators might sit,\nand richly-adorned seats for the lords and ladies who were to adjudge\nthe combat and award the prize of skill and valor.\n\nThen into the lists rode the King of Northgalis, with a following of\nfourscore knights, and attended by the three knights of Arthur's court,\nwho stood apart by themselves. Into the opposite side of the lists rode\nKing Bagdemagus, with as many knights in his train.\n\nWhen all were in place the signal for the onset was given, and the\nknights put their spears in rest and rode together with a great rush,\nand with such fatal fortune that twelve of the party of Bagdemagus and\nsix of that of Northgalis were slain at the first encounter, while the\nknights of King Bagdemagus were driven back in disorder.\n\nAt this critical juncture Lancelot and his companions broke from their\nconcealment and rode into the lists, forcing their horses into the thick\nof the press. Then Lancelot did deeds of such marvellous strength and\nskill that all men deeply wondered who could be the valiant knight of\nthe white shield. For with one spear he smote down five knights, with\nsuch force that four of them broke their backs in the fall. Then turning\non the King of Northgalis, he hurled him from his horse and broke his\nthigh.\n\nThe three knights of Arthur's court, who had not yet joined in the fray,\nsaw this, and rode forward.\n\n\"A shrewd guest that,\" said Mador. \"Let me have at him.\"\n\nBut his fortune was not equal to his hopes, for Lancelot bore down horse\nand man, so that Mador's shoulder was put out of joint by the fall.\n\n\"Now is my turn,\" said Mordred.\n\nHe rode fiercely on Lancelot, who turned nimbly and met him in full\ncareer, Mordred's spear shivering unto his hand when it struck the firm\nwhite shield. But Lancelot gave him so shrewd a buffet that the bow of\nhis saddle broke, and he was flung over his horse's tail with such\nviolence that his helmet went more than a foot into the earth. Fortune\nsaved him from a broken neck, but he lay long in a swoon.\n\nThen Gahalatine and Lancelot rode together with all their force, the\nspears of both breaking, but both keeping their seats. They now drew\ntheir swords, and struck each other many a keen blow. At length\nLancelot, with a burst of wrath, smote Gahalatine so fierce a stroke on\nthe helm that blood burst from his nose, mouth, and ears, and his head\ndrooped on his breast. His horse ran in fright from the fray, while he\nfell headlong from his saddle to the ground.\n\nLancelot now drew back and received from the attendants a stout, strong\nspear, and with this rode again into the fray. Before that spear broke\nhe had unhorsed sixteen knights, some of them being borne from their\nsaddles, while others were hurled horse and man together to the earth.\nThen getting another spear he unhorsed twelve more knights, some of whom\nnever throve afterwards. This ended the tournament, for the knights of\nNorthgalis refused to fight any longer against a champion of such\nmighty prowess, and the prize was awarded to King Bagdemagus.\n\nLancelot now rode with King Bagdemagus from the lists to his castle,\nwhere they had great feasting and rejoicing, and where Lancelot was\nproffered rich gifts for the noble service he had rendered. But these he\nrefused to accept.\n\nOn the following morning Lancelot took his leave, saying that he must go\nin search of Lionel, who had vanished from his side during his sleep.\nBut before going he commended all present to God's grace, and said to\nthe king's daughter,--\n\n\"If you have need any time of my service I pray you let me know, and I\nshall not fail you, as I am a true knight.\"\n\nAnd so Lancelot departed, having had strange adventures and won much\nrenown since he had parted from his nephew Lionel.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nHOW LANCELOT AND TURQUINE FOUGHT.\n\n\nNot far nor long had Lancelot ridden before he found himself in familiar\nscenes, and in a short time he beheld that same apple-tree under which\nhe had lain asleep.\n\n\"I shall take care never to sleep again beneath your shade,\" he said,\ngrimly. \"The fruit you bear is not wholesome for errant knights.\"\n\nHe rode by it, but had not followed the highway far when he met a damsel\nriding on a white palfrey, who saluted him. He courteously returned her\nsalute, and said,--\n\n\"Fair damsel, know you of any adventures that may be had in this land?\"\n\n\"Sir knight,\" she replied, \"if you crave adventures you will not need to\ngo far to find one. But it is one it might be safest for you not to\nundertake.\"\n\n\"Why should I not?\" said Lancelot. \"I came here seeking adventures, and\nam not the man to turn back from a shadow.\"\n\n\"You seem to be a good knight,\" she replied, regarding him closely. \"If\nyou dare face a powerful fighter, I can bring you where is the best and\nmightiest in this land. But first I would know what knight you are.\"\n\n\"As for my name, you are welcome to it,\" he replied. \"Men call me\nLancelot du Lake.\"\n\n\"This, then, is the adventure. Near by there dwells a knight who has\nnever yet found his match, and who is ever ready for a joust. His name\nis Sir Turquine. As I am told, he has overcome and has in prison in his\ncastle sixty-four knights of Arthur's court, whom he has met and\nvanquished in single combat. You shall fight with him if you will. And\nif you overcome him, then I shall beg for your aid against a false\nknight who daily distresses me and other damsels. Have I your promise?\"\n\n\"There is nothing I would rather do,\" said Lancelot. \"Bring me now where\nI may meet this Turquine. When I have ended with him I shall be at your\nservice.\"\n\n\"Come this way,\" she replied, and led him to the ford and the tree where\nhung the basin.\n\nLancelot waited here until his horse had drunk, and then he beat on the\nbasin with the butt of his spear with such force that its bottom fell\nout, but no one answered his challenge. He knocked then loudly at the\nmanor gates, but they remained closed. Finding no entrance, he rode for\nhalf an hour along the manor walls, looking heedfully for Sir Turquine,\nwhom he fancied must be abroad. At the end of that time he saw a knight\nwho drove a horse before him, and athwart that horse lay an armed\nknight, bound.\n\nAs they drew near, Lancelot noticed something familiar in the aspect of\nthe bound knight, and when they had come close he recognized him as\nGaheris, the brother of Gawaine, and a Knight of the Round Table.\n\n\"That prisoner is a fellow of mine,\" he said to the damsel. \"I shall\nbegin, I promise you, by God's help, with rescuing him; and unless his\ncaptor sit better than I in the saddle, I shall deliver all his\nprisoners, among whom, I am sure, are some of my near kindred.\"\n\nBy this time Turquine was close at hand, and on seeing an armed knight\nthus confront him he drew up his horse and gripped his spear fiercely.\n\n\"Fair sir,\" said Lancelot, \"put down that wounded knight and let him\nrest a while, while you and I find out who is the better man. I am told\nyou have done much wrong to Knights of the Round Table, and I am here to\nrevenge them. Therefore, defend yourself.\"\n\n\"If you be of the Round Table,\" said Turquine, \"I defy you and all your\nfellowship.\"\n\n\"That is easy to say,\" retorted Lancelot. \"Now let me see what you are\nready to do.\"\n\nThen, they put their spears in the rests, and rode together with the\nforce of two ships meeting in mid-ocean, smiting each other so strongly\nin the midst of their shields that the backs of both horses broke\nbeneath them. The knights, astonished at this result, leaped hastily to\nthe ground to avoid being overthrown.\n\nThen, drawing their swords and bearing their shields in front, they came\nhotly together, striking with such force that shield and armor alike\ngave way beneath the mighty blows, and blood soon began to flow freely\nfrom their wounds. Thus for two hours and more the deadly contest\ncontinued, the knights striking, parrying, advancing, and retiring with\nall the skill of perfect swordsmen. At the last they both paused through\nlack of breath, and stood leaning upon their swords, and facing each\nother grimly.\n\n\"Hold thy hand a while, fellow,\" said Turquine, \"and tell me what I\nshall ask thee.\"\n\n\"Say on,\" rejoined Lancelot, briefly.\n\n\"Thou art the strongest and best-breathed man that ever I met with, and\nart much like the knight that I hate most of all men. If you are not he,\nthen for the esteem I have for you I will release all my prisoners, and\nwe shall be fellows together while we live. But first of all I would\nknow your name.\"\n\n\"You speak well,\" said Lancelot. \"But since you promise me your\nfriendship, tell me what knight it is you hate so deeply?\"\n\n\"His name,\" said Turquine, \"is Lancelot du Lake. He slew my brother\nCarados at the dolorous tower, and I have vowed that, if I should meet\nhim, one of us shall make an end of the other. Through hate of him I\nhave slain a hundred knights, and maimed as many more, while of those I\nhave thrown in prison, many are dead, and threescore and four yet live.\nIf you will tell me your name, and it be not Lancelot, all these shall\nbe delivered.\"\n\n\"It stands, then,\" said Lancelot, \"that if I be one man I may have your\npeace and friendship, and if I be another man there will be mortal war\nbetween us. If you would know my name, it is Lancelot du Lake, son of\nKing Ban of Benwick, and Knight of the Table Round. And now do your\nbest, for I defy you.\"\n\n\"Ah, Lancelot!\" said Turquine, \"never was knight so welcome to me. This\nis the meeting I have long sought, and we shall never part till one of\nus be dead.\"\n\nThen they rushed together like two wild bulls, lashing at each other\nwith shield and sword, and striking such fiery blows that pieces of\nsteel flew from their armor of proof, and blood poured from many new\nwounds.\n\nTwo hours longer the fight continued, Turquine giving Lancelot many\nwounds and receiving stinging blows in return, till at the end he drew\nback faint with loss of breath and of blood, and bore his shield low\nthrough weakness. This Lancelot quickly perceived, and leaped fiercely\nupon him, seizing him by the beaver of his helmet and dragging him down\nto his knees. Then he tore off his helm, and swinging in the air his\nfatal blade, smote off his head so that it leaped like a live thing upon\nthe ground, while the body fell prostrate in death.\n\n\"So much for Turquine,\" said Lancelot. \"He will take prisoner no more\nRound Table knights. But by my faith, there are not many such men as he,\nand he and I might have faced the world. Now, damsel, I am ready to go\nwith you where you will, but I have no horse.\"\n\n\"Take that of this wounded knight; and let him go into the manor and\nrelease the prisoners.\"\n\n\"That is well advised,\" said Lancelot, who thereupon went to Gaheris and\nbegged that he would lend him his horse.\n\n\"Lend it!\" cried Gaheris. \"I will give it, and would give ten if I had\nthem, for I owe my life and my horse both to you. You have slain in my\nsight the mightiest man and the best knight that I ever saw, except\nyourself. And, fair sir, I pray you tell me your name?\"\n\n\"My name is Lancelot du Lake. I owe you rescue for King Arthur's sake,\nand for that of Gawaine, your brother and my comrade. Within that manor\nyou will find many Knights of the Round Table, whose shields you may see\non yonder tree. I pray you greet them all from me, and say I bid them\ntake for their own such stuff as they find there. I must ride on with\nthis damsel to keep my promise, but I hope to be back at the court by\nthe feast of Pentecost. Bid Lionel and Hector await me there.\"\n\nThis said, he mounted and rode on, while Gaheris went into the\nmanor-house. Here he found a yeoman porter, who accosted him surlily.\nGaheris flung the dogged fellow to the floor, and took from him his\nkeys. With these he opened the prison doors and released the captives,\nwho thanked him warmly for their rescue, for they saw that he was\nwounded, and deemed that he had vanquished Turquine.\n\n\"It was not I,\" said Gaheris, \"that slew your tyrant. You have Lancelot\nto thank for that. He greets you all, and asks Lionel and Hector to wait\nfor him at the court.\"\n\n\"That we shall not do,\" said they. \"While we live we shall seek him.\"\n\n\"So shall I,\" said Kay, who was among the prisoners, \"as I am a true\nknight.\"\n\nThen the released knights sought their armor and horses, and as they did\nso a forester rode into the court, with four horses laden with fat\nvenison.\n\n\"Here is for us,\" said Kay. \"We have not had such a repast as this\npromises for many a long day. That rogue Turquine owes us a dinner at\nleast.\"\n\nThen the manor-kitchens were set in a blaze, and the venison was\nroasted, baked, and sodden, the half-starved knights enjoying such a\nhearty meal as they had long been without. Some of them afterwards\nstayed in the manor-house for the night, though in more agreeable\nquarters than they had of late occupied. But Lionel, Hector, and Kay\nrode in quest of Lancelot, resolved to find him if it were possible,\nand to lose no time in the search.\n\nAs for the victorious knight, he had many strange adventures, of which\nwe can tell only those of most interest. First of all, he performed the\ntask which the damsel required of him, for he met and killed that false\nknight against whom she prayed for redress.\n\n\"You have done this day a double service to mankind,\" said the damsel,\ngratefully. \"As Turquine destroyed knights, so did this villain, whose\nname was Peris de Forest Savage, destroy and distress ladies and\ngentlewomen, and he is well repaid for his villany.\"\n\n\"Do you want any more service of me?\" asked Lancelot.\n\n\"Not at this time. But may heaven preserve you wherever you go, for you\ndeserve the prayers of all who are in distress. But one thing, it seems\nto me, you lack: you are a wifeless knight. The world says that you will\nlove no maiden, but that your heart is turned only to Queen Guenever,\nwho has ordained by enchantment that you shall love none but her. This I\nhold to be a great pity, and many in the land are sorry to see so noble\na knight so enchained.\"\n\n\"I cannot stop people from thinking what they will,\" said Lancelot, \"but\nas for marrying, I shall not soon consent to be a stay-at-home knight.\nAnd as for Guenever's enchantment, it is only that of beauty and womanly\ngraciousness. What time may bring me I know not, but as yet it has not\nbrought me a fancy for wedded life. I thank you for your good wishes,\nfair damsel, and courteously bid you farewell.\"\n\nWith these words Lancelot and she parted, she seeking her home, and the\nknight riding in quest of new adventures. For two days his journey\ncontinued, through a country strange to him. On the morning of the third\nday he found himself beside a wide stream, which was crossed by a long\nbridge, beyond which rose the battlemented towers of a strong castle.\n\nLancelot rode upon the bridge, but before he had reached its middle\nthere started out a foul-faced churl, who smote his horse a hard blow on\nthe nose, and asked him surlily why he dared cross that bridge without\nlicense.\n\n\"Why should I not, if I wish?\" asked the knight. \"Who has the right to\nhinder?\"\n\n\"I have,\" cried the churl. \"You may choose what you will, but you shall\nnot ride here,\" and he struck at him furiously with a great iron-shod\nclub.\n\nAt this affront Lancelot angrily drew his sword, and with one stroke\nwarded off the blow, and cut the churl's head in twain.\n\n\"So much for you, fool,\" he said.\n\nBut when he reached the end of the bridge he found there a village,\nwhose people cried out to him, \"You have done a sorry deed for yourself,\nfor you have slain the chief porter of our castle.\"\n\nLancelot rode on, heedless of their cries, and forcing his great horse\nthrough the throng till he came to the castle walls. The gates of these\nstood open, and he rode in, where he saw a fair green court, and beyond\nit the stately walls and towers. At the windows were the faces of many\npeople, who cried to him in dismay,--\n\n\"Fair knight, turn and fly. Death awaits you here.\"\n\n\"Fly! I have not learned how,\" answered Lancelot, as he sprang from his\nhorse and tied him to a ring in the wall. \"This court seems a fair place\nfor knightly combat, and it fits better with my mood to fight than fly.\"\n\nHardly had he spoken when from the castle doors came two strong giants,\narmed all but their heads, and bearing as weapons great iron clubs. They\nset upon Lancelot together, the foremost making a stroke that would have\nslain him had it reached him. But the knight warded it off with his\nshield, and agilely returned the blow with his sword, with so vigorous a\nstroke that he cleft the giant's head in twain.\n\nWhen his fellow saw this, he turned and ran in panic fear, but Lancelot\nfuriously pursued him, and struck him so fierce a blow that the sword\nclove his great body asunder from shoulder to waist.\n\n\"Is it not better to fight than to fly?\" cried Lancelot to the glad\nfaces which he now saw at the windows, and, leaving the dead giants\ncrimsoning the green verdure, he strode into the castle hall, where\nthere came before him threescore ladies, who fell on their knees and\nthanked God and him for their deliverance.\n\n\"Blessed be the day thou wert born, sir knight,\" they said, \"for many\nbrave warriors have died in seeking to do what thou hast achieved this\nday. We are all of us gentlewomen born, and many of us have been\nprisoners here for seven years, working in silk for these giants that we\nmight earn our food. We pray you to tell us your name, that our friends\nmay know who has delivered us, and remember you in their prayers.\"\n\n\"Fair ladies,\" he said, \"my name is Lancelot du Lake.\"\n\n\"You may well be he,\" they replied. \"For we know no other knight that\ncould have faced those giants together, and slain them as you have\ndone.\"\n\n\"Say unto your friends,\" said Lancelot, \"that I send them greeting, and\nthat I shall expect good cheer from them if ever I should come into\ntheir manors. As for the treasure in this castle, I give it to you in\npayment for your captivity. For the castle itself, its lord, whom these\ngiants have dispossessed, may claim again his heritage.\"\n\n\"The castle,\" they replied, \"is named Tintagil. The duke who owned it\nwas the husband of Queen Igraine, King Arthur's mother. But it has long\nbeen held by these miscreant giants.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Lancelot, \"the castle belongs to the king, and shall be\nreturned to him. And now farewell, and God be with you.\"\n\nSo saying, he mounted his horse and rode away, followed by the thanks\nand prayers of the rescued ladies.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE CHAPEL PERILOUS.\n\n\nLancelot rode onward day after day, passing through many strange and\nwild countries, and over many rivers, and finding but sorry cheer and\nill lodging as he went. At length fortune brought him to a comfortable\nwayside mansion, where he was well received, and after a good supper was\nlodged in a chamber over the gateway.\n\nBut he had not been long asleep when he was aroused by a furious\nknocking at the gate. Springing from his bed, he looked from the window,\nand there by the moonlight saw one knight defending himself against\nthree, who were pressing him closely. The knight fought bravely, but was\nin danger of being overpowered.\n\n\"Those are not fair odds,\" said Lancelot. \"I must to the rescue, and the\nmore so as I see that it is my old friend, Sir Kay, who is being so\nroughly handled.\"\n\nThen he hastily put on his armor, and by aid of a sheet lowered himself\nfrom a window to the ground.\n\n\"Turn this way,\" he cried to the assailants, \"and leave that knight.\nThree to one is not knightly odds.\"\n\nAt these words they turned upon him, all three striking at him together,\nand forcing him to defend himself. Kay would have come to his aid, but\nhe cried out,--\n\n\"I will have none of your help. Stand off and leave me alone, or fight\nthem yourself.\"\n\nAt this Kay stood aside, and Lancelot attacked the three miscreants so\nfiercely that within six strokes he felled them all to the ground. They\nnow begged for mercy, yielding to him as a man of matchless skill.\n\n\"I will not take your yielding,\" he replied. \"Yield to Sir Kay, here,\nwhom you foully over-matched.\"\n\n\"You ask too much of us, fair sir. It is not just that we should yield\nto him whom we would have vanquished but for you.\"\n\n\"Think well,\" returned Lancelot. \"You shall yield or die. The choice is\nyours.\"\n\n\"That is a choice with but one side. Yield we must, if death is the\nalternative.\"\n\n\"Then I bid you on Whitsunday next, to present yourselves to Queen\nGuenever at King Arthur's court, and put yourselves in her grace and\nmercy, saying that Sir Kay sent you there as prisoners.\"\n\nThis they took oath to do, each knight swearing upon his sword;\nwhereupon Lancelot suffered them to depart.\n\nHe now knocked at the gate with the pommel of his sword, till his host\ncame, who started with surprise on seeing him there.\n\n\"I thought you were safe a-bed,\" he said.\n\n\"So I was. But I sprang from the window to help an old fellow of mine.\"\n\nWhen they came to the light, Kay recognized Lancelot, and fell on his\nknees to thank him for saving his life.\n\n\"What I have done is nothing but what duty and good fellowship\ndemanded,\" said Lancelot. \"Are you hungry?\"\n\n\"Half starved,\" answered Kay.\n\n\"Mayhap our good host can find you food.\"\n\nMeat was thereupon brought, of which Kay ate heartily, after which he\nand Lancelot sought their beds in the gate chamber.\n\nBut in the morning Lancelot rose while Kay was still asleep, and took\nhis guest's armor and shield, leaving his own. Then he proceeded to the\nstable, mounted his horse, and rode away. Shortly afterwards Kay awoke,\nand quickly perceived what his comrade had done.\n\n\"Good,\" he said, with a laugh. \"Lancelot is after some sport. I fancy\nthat more than one knight will get more than he bargains for if he\nthinks he has me to deal with. As for me, with Lancelot's armor and\nshield, I shall be left to ride in peace, for few, I fancy, will trouble\nme.\"\n\nKay thereupon put on Lancelot's armor, and, thanking his host, rode\naway. Meanwhile Lancelot had ridden on till he found himself in a low\ncountry full of meadows and rivers. Here he passed a bridge at whose end\nwere three pavilions of silk and sendal, and at the door of each a white\nshield on the truncheon of a spear, while three squires stood at the\npavilion doors. Lancelot rode leisurely by, without a word and hardly a\nlook.\n\nWhen he had passed, the knights looked after him, saying to one another,\n\"That is the proud Kay. He deems no knight so good as he, though it has\noften been proved otherwise.\"\n\n\"I shall ride after him,\" said one. \"We shall see if his pride does not\nhave a fall. Watch me, comrades, if you would see some sport.\"\n\nHe sped but poorly, as it proved, for within a short time he was hurled\ngrovelling to the earth. Then the two others rode in succession against\nthe disguised knight, and both met with the same sorry fate.\n\n\"You are not Kay, the seneschal,\" they cried. \"He never struck such\nblows. Tell us your name and we will yield.\"\n\n\"You shall yield, whether you will or not,\" he replied. \"Look that you\nbe at court by Whitsunday, and yield yourselves to Queen Guenever,\nsaying to her that Sir Kay sent you thither as prisoners.\"\n\nThis they swore to do, in dread of worse handling, and Lancelot rode on,\nleaving them to help themselves as best they might. Not far had he gone\nwhen he entered a forest, and in an open glade of this saw four knights\nresting under an oak. He knew them at sight to be from Arthur's court,\ntwo of them being Gawaine and Uwaine; the other two Hector de Maris, and\nSagramour le Desirous.\n\nThey, as the three previous knights had done, mistook Lancelot for Kay,\nand Sagramour rode after him, vowing that he would try what skill the\nseneschal had. He quickly found, for horse and man together were hurled\nto the ground, while Lancelot sat unmoved in his saddle.\n\n\"I would have sworn that Kay could not give such a buffet as that,\" said\nHector. \"Let us see what I can do with him.\"\n\nHis luck was even worse, for he went to the earth with a spear-hole in\nhis shoulder, his shield and armor being pierced.\n\n\"By my faith!\" said Uwaine, \"that knight is a bigger and stronger man\nthan Kay. He must have slain the seneschal and taken his armor. He has\nproved himself a hard man to match, but if Kay has been slain it is our\nduty to revenge him.\"\n\nHe thereupon rode against Lancelot, but with as ill fortune as his\nfellows, for he was flung so violently to the earth that he lay long out\nof his senses.\n\n\"Whoever he be,\" cried Gawaine, \"he has overturned my comrades, and I\nmust encounter him. Defend yourself, sir knight.\"\n\nThen the two knights rode fiercely together, each striking the other in\nthe midst of the shield. But Gawaine's spear broke, while that of\nLancelot held good, and struck so strong a blow that the horse was\noverturned, Gawaine barely escaping being crushed beneath him.\n\nThis done, Lancelot rode slowly on, smiling to himself, and saying, \"God\ngive joy to the man that made this spear, for a better no knight ever\nhandled.\"\n\n\"What say you of this knight, who with one spear has felled us all?\"\nsaid Gawaine. \"To my thinking, it is Lancelot or the devil. He rides\nlike Lancelot.\"\n\n\"We shall find out in good time,\" said the others; \"but he has left us\nsore bodies and sick hearts, and our poor horses are the worse for the\ntrial.\"\n\nLancelot rode on through the forest, thinking quietly to himself of the\nsurprise he had given to his late assailants, and of the sport it would\nthereafter make in the court. But new and stranger adventures awaited\nhim, for he was now coming into a land of enchantment, where more than\nmere strength would be needed.\n\nWhat he saw, after he had ridden long and far, was a black brachet,\nwhich was coursing as if in the track of a hurt deer; but he quickly\nperceived that the dog was upon a trail of fresh blood. He followed the\nbrachet, which looked behind as it ran, as if with desire to lead him\non. In time he saw before him an old manor, over whose bridge ran the\ndog. When Lancelot had ridden over the bridge, that shook beneath his\nhoofs as if it was ready to fall, he came into a great hall, where lay a\ndead knight whose wounds the dog was licking. As he stood there a lady\nrushed weeping from a chamber, and wrung her hands in grief as she\naccused him of having slain her lord.\n\n\"Madam, it was not I,\" said Lancelot. \"I never saw him till his dog led\nme here, and I am sorry enough for your misfortune.\"\n\n\"I should have known it could not be you,\" she said. \"I was led by my\ngrief to speak wildly. For he that killed my husband is sorely wounded\nhimself, and I can promise him this, that he will never recover. I have\nwrought him a charm that no leech's skill can overcome.\"\n\n\"What was your husband's name?\" asked Lancelot.\n\n\"Sir Gilbert,\" she replied. \"As for him that slew him, I know not his\nname.\"\n\n\"God send you better comfort,\" said Lancelot. \"I am sorry for your\nmisfortune.\"\n\nThen he rode again into the forest, and in a short space met a damsel\nwho knew him well, for his visor was up and his face shown.\n\n\"You are well found, my lord Lancelot,\" she said. \"I beg you of your\nknighthood to help my brother, who lies near by sorely wounded, and\nnever stops bleeding. He fought to-day with Sir Gilbert and slew him in\nfair battle, and now is dying through foul enchantment. Not far from\nhere dwells a lady sorceress, who has wrought this harm, and who told me\nto-day that my brother's wounds would never heal till I could find a\nknight who would go into the Chapel Perilous, and bring thence the sword\nof the slain knight and a piece of the bloody cloth that he is wrapped\nin. My brother will die unless his wounds are touched with that sword\nand that cloth, for nothing else on earth will stop their bleeding.\"\n\n\"This is a marvellous tale,\" said Lancelot. \"Who is your brother?\"\n\n\"His name is Meliot de Logres.\"\n\n\"Then he is one of my fellows of the Round Table, and I will do all I\ncan to help him. What and where the Chapel Perilous is I know not, but I\ndo not fear its perils.\"\n\n\"This highway will bring you to it, and at no great distance,\" she\nreplied. \"I shall here await your return. I know no knight but you who\ncan achieve this task, and truly you will find it no light one, for you\nhave enchantment and sorcery to encounter.\"\n\nLittle was Lancelot downcast by these words, and he rode on to the\nChapel Perilous with no dread in his bold heart. Reaching the building\nindicated, he alighted and tied his horse beside the gate. Then he\nentered the church-yard, and there he saw on the chapel front many\nshields hung upside down, some of them being well known to him.\n\nBut his eyes were quickly drawn from these, for suddenly there appeared\nbefore him thirty gigantic knights, all clad in jet-black armor, and\nevery man of them a foot higher than common men. All bore swords and\nshields, and as they stood there they grinned and gnashed at him with\nbaleful faces.\n\nDread came into Lancelot's heart on seeing this frightful throng of\nblack warriors, with their demon-like countenances. But commending his\nsoul to God, he took his sword in hand and advanced resolutely upon\nthem. Then, to his surprise and gladness, when they saw this bold\nadvance they scattered right and left before him, like dead leaves\nbefore the wind, and gave him open passage to the chapel, which he\nentered without further opposition.\n\nHere was no light but that of a dim lamp, and on a bier in the centre of\nthe aisle there lay a corpse that was covered with a cloth of silk. On\ncoming up, Lancelot gazed upon the face and saw that it was that of Sir\nGilbert, whose dead body he had seen but lately in the hall of the\nmanor-house.\n\nThen he bent over the corpse and cut away a piece of the silk, and as he\ndid so he felt the floor to sink and rock beneath him as if the earth\nhad quaked. This gave him a thrill of dread, and seizing the sword that\nlay by the side of the corpse he hastened out of the chapel.\n\nWhen he reached the chapel-yard the black knights thronged again in his\npathway, and cried to him with voices of thunder,--\n\n\"Knight, yield us that sword, or you shall die!\"\n\n\"Whether I live or die, it will need more than loud words to force me to\nyield it. You may fight for it if you will. And I warn you, you will\nneed to fight hard.\"\n\nThen, as before, they scattered before his bold advance, and left him\nfree passage. Lancelot strode resolutely on through the chapel-yard, but\nin the highway beyond he met a fair damsel, who said to him,--\n\n\"Sir Lancelot, you know not what risk you run. Leave that sword, or you\nwill die for it.\"\n\n\"I got it not so easy that I should leave it for a threat,\" he replied.\n\n\"You are wise,\" she answered. \"I did but test your judgment. If you had\nyielded the sword you would never have looked on Queen Guenever again.\"\n\n\"Then I would have been a fool indeed to leave it.\"\n\n\"Now, gentle knight, I have but one request to make of you ere you\ndepart. That is, that you kiss me.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Lancelot, \"that God forbid. I save my kisses till my love is\ngiven.\"\n\n\"Then are you beyond my power,\" she cried, with a groan of pain. \"Had\nyou kissed me your life would have ended; but now I have lost my labor,\nfor it was for you and Gawaine that I prepared this chapel with its\nenchantments. Gawaine was once in my power, and at that time he fought\nwith Sir Gilbert and struck off his left hand. As for you, I have loved\nyou these seven years. But I know that none but Guenever will ever have\nyour love, and so, as I could not have you alive, I wished to have you\ndead. If you had yielded to my wiles I should have embalmed and\npreserved your body, and kissed it daily in spite of Guenever, or any\nwoman living. Now farewell, Lancelot; I shall never look upon your face\nagain.\"\n\n\"I pray to Heaven you shall not. And may God preserve me from your vile\ncraft.\"\n\nMounting his horse, Lancelot departed. Of the lady, we are told by the\nchronicles that she died within a fortnight of pure sorrow, and that she\nwas a sorceress of high renown.\n\nLancelot rode on till he met the sister of the wounded knight, who\nclapped her hands and wept for joy on seeing him safely returned. Then\nshe led him to a castle near by, where Sir Meliot lay. Lancelot knew him\nat sight, though he was pale as death from loss of blood.\n\nOn seeing Lancelot, he fell on his knees before him, crying, in tones of\nhope,--\n\n\"Oh, my lord Lancelot, help me, for you alone can!\"\n\n\"I can and will,\" rejoined the knight, and, as he had been advised, he\ntouched his wounds with the sword and rubbed them with the bloody cloth\nhe had won.\n\nNo sooner was this done, than Meliot sprang to his feet a whole and\nsound man, while his heart throbbed with joy and gratefulness. And he\nand his sister entertained their noble guest with the best the castle\nafforded, doing all in their power to show their gratitude.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE ADVENTURE OF THE FALCON.\n\n\nAfter his departure from the castle of Sir Meliot, Lancelot rode through\nmany strange regions, over marshes and highlands, through valleys and\nforests, and at length found himself in front of a handsome castle. This\nhe passed, and as he did so thought he heard two bells ring.\n\nThen he saw a falcon fly over his head towards a high elm, with long\ncords hanging from her feet, and as she perched in the elm these became\ncoiled round a bough, so that when she tried to fly again the lines held\nher and she hung downward by the legs.\n\nThen there came a lady running from the castle, who cried, as she\napproached,--\n\n\"Oh, Lancelot, Lancelot, as thou art the flower of knights, help me to\nget my hawk, lest my lord destroy me! The hawk escaped me, and if my\nhusband finds it gone, he is so hasty that I fear he will kill me.\"\n\n\"What is his name?\" asked Lancelot.\n\n\"His name is Phelot. He is a knight of the king of Northgalis.\"\n\n\"Well, fair lady, since you know my name so well, and ask me on my\nknighthood to help you, I will try to get your hawk. But I am a poor\nclimber, and the tree is high, with few boughs to help me.\"\n\n\"I trust you may,\" she replied, \"for my life depends on your success.\"\n\nThen Lancelot alighted and tied his horse to the tree, and begged the\nlady to help him remove his armor. When he was fully unarmed he climbed\nwith much difficulty into the tree, and at length succeeded in reaching\nthe hawk. He now tied the lines to a rotten branch and threw it and the\nbird down to the lady.\n\nBut as she picked it up with a show of joy, there suddenly came from a\ngrove an armed knight, who rode rapidly up, with his drawn sword in his\nhand.\n\n\"Now, Lancelot du Lake,\" he cried, \"I have you as I wanted you. Your day\nhas come.\"\n\nAnd he stood by the trunk of the tree, ready to slay him when he should\ndescend.\n\n\"What treason is this?\" demanded Lancelot. \"False woman, why have you\nled me into this?\"\n\n\"She did as I bade her,\" said Phelot. \"I hate you, Lancelot, and have\nlaid this trap for you. You have fought your last fight, my bold\nchampion, for you come out of that tree but to your death.\"\n\n\"That would be a shameful deed,\" cried Lancelot, \"for you, an armed\nknight, to slay a defenceless man through treachery.\"\n\n\"Help yourself the best you can,\" said Phelot; \"you get no grace from\nme.\"\n\n\"You will be shamed all your life by so base an act,\" cried Lancelot.\n\"If you will do no more, at least hang my sword upon a bough where I may\nget it, and then you may do your best to slay me.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" said Phelot. \"I know you too well for that. You get no weapon\nif I can hinder you.\"\n\nLancelot was now in the most desperate strait he was likely ever to\nendure. He could not stay forever in the tree, and if he should attempt\nto descend there stood that armed villain awaiting him with ready sword.\nWhat to do he knew not, but his eyes glanced warily round, till he saw\njust above him a big leafless branch, which he broke off close to the\nbody of the tree. Thus armed, he climbed down to a lower bough, and\nlooked down to note the position of the knight and his own horse.\n\nA quick look told him that there was still a chance for life, and with a\nnimble leap he sprang to the ground on the other side of his horse from\nthe knight.\n\nPhelot at once struck at him savagely with his sword, thinking to kill\nhim with the blow; but Lancelot parried it with his heavy club, and in\nreturn dealt his antagonist so fierce a blow on the head as to hurl him\nfrom his horse to the ground. Then wrenching the sword from his hand, he\nstruck off his villanous head.\n\n\"Alas!\" cried the lady, \"you have slain my husband!\"\n\n\"If I should slay you with him it would be but justice,\" said Lancelot,\n\"for you would have killed me through falsehood and treachery, and you\nhave but your deserts.\"\n\nThen the lady swooned away as if she would die, but Lancelot, seeing\nthat the knight's castle was so nigh, hastened to resume his armor, for\nhe knew not what other treachery might await him. Then, leaving the lady\nstill in a swoon, he mounted and rode away, thanking God that he had\ncome so well through that deadly peril.\n\nAs to Lancelot's other adventures at that time, they were of no great\nmoment. The chronicles tell that he saw a knight chasing a lady with\nintent to kill her, and that he rescued her. Afterwards the knight, who\nwas her husband and mad with jealousy, struck off her head in Lancelot's\npresence.\n\nThen when Lancelot would have slain him, he grovelled in the dirt and\nbegged for mercy so piteously, that the knight at length granted him his\nshameful life, but made him swear that he would bear the dead body on\nhis back to Queen Guenever, and tell her of his deed.\n\nThis he accomplished, and was ordered by the queen, as a fitting\npenance, to bear the body of his wife to the Pope of Rome and there beg\nabsolution, and never to sleep at night but with the dead body in the\nbed with him. All this the knight did, and the body was buried in Rome\nby the Pope's command. Afterwards Pedivere, the knight, repented so\ndeeply of his vile deed that he became a hermit, and was known as a man\nof holy life.\n\nTwo days before the feast of Pentecost, Lancelot returned to Camelot\nfrom his long journey and his many adventures. And there was much\nlaughter in the court when the knights whom he had smitten down saw him\nin Kay's armor, and knew who their antagonist had been.\n\n\"By my faith,\" said Kay, \"I never rode in such peace as I have done in\nLancelot's armor, for I have not found a man willing to fight with me,\nand have ruled lord of the land.\"\n\nThen the various knights whom Lancelot had bidden to seek the court came\nin, one by one, and all were glad to learn that it was by no common man\nthat they had been overcome. Among them came Sir Belleus, whom Lancelot\nhad wounded at the pavilion, and who at his request was made a Knight of\nthe Round Table, and Sir Meliot de Logres, whom he had rescued from the\nenchantment of the Chapel Perilous. Also the adventure of the four\nqueens was told, and how Lancelot had been delivered from the power of\nthe sorceresses, and had won the tournament for King Bagdemagus.\n\nAnd so at that time Lancelot had the greatest name of any knight in the\nworld, and was the most honored, by high and low alike, of all living\nchampions.\n\n\n\n\n BOOK V.\n\n THE ADVENTURES OF BEAUMAINS.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE KNIGHTING OF KAY'S KITCHEN BOY.\n\n\nKing Arthur had, early in his reign, established the custom that at the\nfeast of Pentecost he would never dine until he had seen or heard of\nsome marvellous event. Through that custom many strange adventures were\nbrought to his notice. It happened on one day of Pentecost that the king\nheld his Round Table at a castle called Kinkenadon, on the borders of\nWales. On that day, a little before noon, as Gawaine looked from a\nwindow, he saw three men on horseback and a dwarf on foot approaching\nthe castle. When they came near the men alighted, and, leaving their\nhorses in care of the dwarf, they walked towards the castle-gate. One of\nthese men was very tall, being a foot and a half higher than his\ncompanions.\n\nOn seeing this, Gawaine went to the king and said,--\n\n\"Sire, I deem you can now safely go to your dinner, for I fancy we have\nan adventure at hand.\"\n\n[Illustration: KING ARTHUR'S ROUND TABLE, WINCHESTER CATHEDRAL.]\n\nThe king thereupon went to the table with his knights and the kings who\nwere guests at his court. They were but well seated when there came into\nthe hall two men, richly attired, upon whose shoulders leaned the\nfairest and handsomest young man that any there had ever seen. In body\nhe was large and tall, with broad shoulders and sturdy limbs, yet he\nmoved as if he could not bear himself erect, but needed support from his\ncomrades' shoulders.\n\nWhen Arthur saw this youth he bade those around him to make room, and\nthe stranger with his companions walked up to the high dais without\nspeaking.\n\nThen he drew himself up straight and stood erect before the king.\n\n\"King Arthur,\" he said, \"may God bless you and your fellowship, and,\nabove all, the fellowship of the Round Table. I am come hither to beg of\nyou three gifts, promising that they shall not be unreasonable, and that\nyou can honorably grant them without hurt or loss to yourself. The first\nI shall ask now, and the other two this day twelvemonth.\"\n\n\"Ask what you will,\" said Arthur. \"You shall have your gift, if it be so\neasy to grant.\"\n\n\"This is my first petition, that you furnish me meat and drink\nsufficient for this year, and until the time has come to ask for my\nother gifts.\"\n\n\"My fair son,\" said Arthur, \"I counsel you to ask more than this. If my\njudgment fail not, you are of good birth and fit for noble deeds.\"\n\n\"However that may be, I have asked all that I now desire.\"\n\n\"Well, well, you shall have meat and drink enough. I have never denied\nthat to friend or foe. But what is your name?\"\n\n\"Great sir, that I cannot tell you.\"\n\n\"There is a mystery here. A youth of so handsome face and vigorous form\nas you must be of noble parentage. But if you desire secrecy, I shall\nnot press you.\"\n\nThen Arthur bade Kay to take charge of the youth and see that he had the\nbest fare of the castle, and to find out if he was a lord's son, if\npossible.\n\n\"A churl's son, I should say,\" answered Kay, scornfully, \"and not worth\nthe cost of his meals. Had he been of gentle birth he would have asked\nfor horse and armor; but he demands that which fits his base-born\nnature. Since he has no name, I shall give him one. Let him be called\nBeaumains, or Fair Hands. I shall keep him in the kitchen, where he can\nhave fat broth every day, so that at the years end he will be fat as a\nswollen hog.\"\n\nThen the two men departed and left the youth with Kay, who continued to\nscorn and mock him.\n\nGawaine and Lancelot were angry at this, and bade Kay to cease his\nmockery, saying that they were sure the youth would prove of merit.\n\n\"Never will he,\" said Kay. \"He has asked as his nature bade him.\"\n\n\"Beware,\" said Lancelot. \"This is not the first youth you have given a\nname in mockery, which turned on yourself at last.\"\n\n\"I do not fear that of this fellow. I wager that he has been brought up\nin some abbey, and came hither because good eating failed him there.\"\n\nKay then bade him get a place and sit down to his meal, and Beaumains\nsought a place at the hall-door among boys and menials.\n\nGawaine and Lancelot thereupon asked him to come to their chambers,\nwhere he should be well fed and lodged; but he refused, saying that he\nwould do only as Kay commanded, since the king had so bidden.\n\nIt thus came about that Beaumains ate in the kitchen among the menials,\nand slept in sorry quarters. And during the whole year he was always\nmeek and mild, and gave no cause for displeasure to man or child.\n\nBut whenever there was jousting of knights he was always present to see,\nand seemed in this sport to take great delight. And Gawaine and\nLancelot, who felt sure that the youth but bided his time, gave him\nclothes and what money he needed. Also, wherever there were sports of\nskill or strength he was sure to be on hand, and in throwing the bar or\nstone he surpassed all contestants by two yards.\n\n\"How like you my boy of the kitchen?\" Kay would say, on seeing these\nfeats. \"Fat broth is good for the muscles.\"\n\nAnd so the year passed on till the festival of Whitsuntide came again.\nThe court was now at Carlion, where royal feasts were held. But the\nking, as was his custom, refused to eat until he should hear of some\nstrange adventure.\n\nWhile he thus waited a damsel came into the hall and saluted the king,\nand begged aid and succor of him.\n\n\"For whom?\" asked Arthur. \"Of what do you complain?\"\n\n\"Sire,\" she replied, \"I serve a lady of great worth and merit, who is\nbesieged in her castle by a tyrant, and dares not leave her gates for\nfear of him. I pray you send with me some knight to succor her.\"\n\n\"Who is your lady, and where does she dwell? And what is the name of the\nman who besieges her?\"\n\n\"Her name I must not now tell. I shall only say that she has wide lands\nand is a noble lady. As for the tyrant that distresses her, he is called\nthe Red Knight of the Red Lawns.\"\n\n\"I know him not,\" said the king.\n\n\"I know him well,\" said Gawaine. \"Men say he has seven men's strength. I\nescaped him once barely with life.\"\n\n\"Fair damsel,\" said the king, \"there are knights here who would do their\nutmost to rescue your lady. But if you will not tell me her name nor\nwhere she lives, none of them shall go with my consent.\"\n\n\"Then I must seek further,\" said the damsel, \"for that I am forbidden to\ntell.\"\n\nAt this moment Beaumains came to the king, and said,--\n\n\"Royal sir, I have been twelve months in your kitchen, and have had all\nyou promised me; now I desire to ask for my other two gifts.\"\n\n\"Ask, if you will. I shall keep to my word.\"\n\n\"This, then, is what I request. First, that you send me with the damsel,\nfor this adventure belongs to me.\"\n\n\"You shall have it,\" said the king.\n\n\"My third request is that you shall bid Lancelot du Lake make me a\nknight, for he is the only man in your court from whom I will take that\nhonor. When I am gone let him ride after me, and dub me knight when I\nrequire it of him.\"\n\n\"I grant your wish,\" said the king. \"All shall be done as you desire.\"\n\n\"Fie on you all!\" cried the damsel. \"I came here for a knight, and you\noffer me a kitchen scullion. Is this King Arthur's way of rescuing a\nlady in distress? If so, I want none of it, and will seek my knight\nelsewhere.\"\n\nShe left the court, red with anger, mounted her horse, and rode away.\n\nShe had hardly gone when a page of the court came to Beaumains and told\nhim that his dwarf was without, with a noble horse and a rich suit of\narmor, and all other necessaries of the best.\n\nAt this all the court marvelled, for they could not imagine who had sent\nall this rich gear to a kitchen menial. But when Beaumains was armed,\nthere were none in the court who presented a more manly aspect than he.\nHe took courteous leave of the king, and of Gawaine and Lancelot,\npraying the latter that he would soon ride after him. This done, he\nmounted his horse and pursued the damsel.\n\nBut those who observed him noticed that, while he was well horsed and\nhad trappings of cloth of gold, he bore neither shield nor spear. Among\nthose who watched him was Kay, who said,--\n\n\"Yonder goes my kitchen drudge, as fine a knight as the best of us, if a\nbrave show were all that a knight needed. I have a mind to ride after\nhim, to let him know that I am still his superior.\"\n\n\"You had better let him alone,\" said Gawaine. \"You may find more than\nyou bargain for.\"\n\nBut Kay armed himself and rode after Beaumains, whom he overtook just as\nhe came up with the damsel.\n\n\"Hold there, Beaumains,\" he cried, in mockery. \"Do you not know me?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered the young man. \"I know you for an ungentle knight of the\ncourt, who has put much despite upon me. It is my turn to repay you for\nyour insults; so, sirrah, defend yourself.\"\n\nKay thereupon put his spear in rest and rode upon Beaumains, who awaited\nhim sword in hand. When they came together, Beaumains, with a skilful\nparry, turned aside the spear, and then with a vigorous thrust wounded\nKay in the side, so that he fell from his horse like a dead man. This\ndone, he dismounted and took Kay's shield and spear, and bade his dwarf\ntake his horse.\n\nAll this was observed by the damsel, and also by Lancelot, who had\nfollowed closely upon the track of the seneschal.\n\n\"Now, Sir Lancelot, I am ready to accept your offer to knight me,\" said\nBeaumains, \"but, first, I would prove myself worthy of the honor, and so\nwill joust with you, if you consent.\"\n\n\"That I shall certainly not decline,\" said Lancelot, counting upon an\neasy victory.\n\nBut when the knight and the youth rode against each other both were\nhurled from their horses to the earth, and sorely bruised. But Beaumains\nwas entangled in his harness, and Lancelot helped him from his horse.\n\nThen Beaumains flung aside his shield and proffered to fight Lancelot\non foot, to which the latter consented. For an hour they fought,\nBeaumains showing such strength that Lancelot marvelled at it, and\nesteemed him more a giant than a knight. He began, indeed, to fear that\nhe might be vanquished in the end, and at length cried out,--\n\n\"Beaumains, you fight too hard, considering that there is no quarrel\nbetween us. I fancy you need no further proof.\"\n\n\"That is true enough, my lord,\" said Beaumains. \"But it did me good to\nfeel your might. As for my own strength, I hardly know it yet.\"\n\n\"It is as much as I want to deal with,\" said Lancelot. \"I had to do my\nbest to save my honor.\"\n\n\"Then you think I may prove myself a worthy knight?\"\n\n\"I warrant you that, if you do as well as you have done to-day.\"\n\n\"I pray you, then, to invest me with the order of knighthood.\"\n\n\"That shall I willingly do. But you must first tell me your name, and\nthat of your father.\"\n\n\"You will keep my secret?\"\n\n\"I promise you that on my faith, until you are ready to reveal it\nyourself.\"\n\n\"Then, sir, my name is Gareth, and I am Gawaine's brother, though he\nknows it not. I was but a child when he became a knight, but King Lot\nwas my father.\"\n\n\"I am very glad to hear that,\" said Lancelot. \"I knew you were of gentle\nblood, and came to court for something else than meat and drink.\"\n\nThen Gareth kneeled before Lancelot, who made him a knight, and bade\nhim be a good and worthy one, and to honor his birth by his deeds.\n\nLancelot then left him and returned to Kay, who lay half dead in the\nroad. He had him borne back to the court, but his wound proved long in\nhealing, and he found himself the scorn of the court for his\ndiscourteous treatment of the youth who had been put in his care.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE BLACK, THE GREEN, AND THE RED KNIGHTS.\n\n\nWhen Beaumains overtook the damsel, he received from her but a sorry\ngreeting.\n\n\"How dare you follow me?\" she said. \"You smell too much of the kitchen\nfor my liking. Your clothes are foul with grease and tallow, and I\nmarvel much that King Arthur made a knight of such a sorry rogue. As for\nyonder knight whom you wounded, there is no credit in that, for it was\ndone by treachery and cowardice, not by skill and valor. I know well why\nKay named you Beaumains, for you are but a lubber and turner of spits,\nand a washer of soiled dishes.\"\n\n\"Say what you will, damsel,\" answered Beaumains, \"you shall not drive me\naway. King Arthur chose me to achieve your adventure, and I shall\nperform it or die.\"\n\n\"Fie on you, kitchen knave! you would not dare, for all the broth you\never supped, to look the red knight in the face.\"\n\n\"Would I not? That is to be seen.\"\n\nAs they thus angrily debated, there came to them a man flying at full\nspeed.\n\n\"Help me, sir knight!\" he cried. \"Six thieves have taken my lord and\nbound him, and I fear they will slay him if he be not rescued.\"\n\n\"Lead me to him,\" said Beaumains.\n\nHe followed the man to a neighboring glade, where he saw a knight bound\nand prostrate, surrounded by six sorry-looking villains. At sight of\nthis the heart of Beaumains leaped with anger. With a ringing battle-cry\nhe rushed upon the knaves, and with three vigorous strokes laid three of\nthem dead upon the earth. The others fled, but he followed at full\nspeed, and quickly overtook them. Then they turned and assailed him\nfiercely, but after a short fight he slew them all. He then rode back to\nthe knight, whom his man had unbound.\n\nThe rescued knight thanked him warmly, and begged him to ride with him\nto his castle, where he would reward him for his great service. But\nBeaumains answered that he was upon a quest which could not be left, and\nas for reward he would leave that to God.\n\nThen he turned and rode back to the damsel, who greeted him with the\nsame contempt as before, bidding him ride farther from her, as she could\nnot bear the smell of the kitchen.\n\n\"Do you fancy that I esteem you any the nobler for having killed a few\nchurls? You shall see a sight yet, sir knave, that will make you turn\nyour back, and that quickly.\"\n\nNot much farther had they ridden when they were overtaken by the rescued\nknight, who begged them, as it was near night, and his castle close at\nhand, to spend the night there. The damsel agreed to this, and they rode\ntogether to the castle, where they were well entertained.\n\nBut at supper the knight set Beaumains before the damsel.\n\n\"Fie, fie! sir knight,\" she exclaimed. \"This is discourteous, to seat a\nkitchen page before a lady of high birth. This fellow is more used to\ncarve swine than to sit at lords' tables.\"\n\nTo this Beaumains made no answer, but the knight was ashamed, and\nwithdrew with his guest to a side table, leaving her to the honor of the\nhigh table alone. When morning came they thanked the knight for their\nentertainment, and rode refreshed away.\n\nOther adventures were ready for Beaumains before they had ridden far,\nfor they soon found themselves at the side of a river that had but a\nsingle ford, and on the opposite side stood two knights, ready to\ndispute the passage with any who should attempt it.\n\n\"What say you to this?\" asked the damsel. \"Will you face yonder knights,\nor turn back?\"\n\n\"I shall not turn; nor would I, if there were six more of them. You\nshall see that I can deal with knights as well as knaves.\"\n\nThen he rode into the water, in the midst of which he met one of the\nknights, their spears breaking as they came fiercely together. They then\ndrew their swords and began a fierce fight in the centre of the ford.\nBut at last Beaumains dealt his opponent a blow on the helm that stunned\nhim, and hurled him from his horse into the water, where he was quickly\ndrowned.\n\nBeaumains now spurred forward to the land, where the other knight rushed\nupon him as he touched shore, breaking his spear, but not shaking the\nyoung champion in his seat. Then they went at it with sword and shield,\nand with the same fortune as before, for Beaumains quickly cleaved the\nhelmet and brain of his opponent, and left him dead on the ground.\n\nHe now turned and called proudly to the damsel, bidding her to ride\nforward, as he had cleared the ford for her passage.\n\n\"Alas!\" she cried, \"that a kitchen page should have the fortune to kill\ntwo valiant knights. You fancy you have done a doughty deed, but I deny\nit. The first knight was drowned through his horse stumbling, and the\nother one you struck a foul blow from behind. Never brag of this, for I\ncan attest it was not honestly done.\"\n\n\"You may say what you will,\" rejoined Beaumains. \"Whoever seeks to\nhinder me shall make way or kill me, for nothing less than death shall\nstop me on my quest to aid your lady.\"\n\n\"You can boast loudly before a woman. Wait till you meet the knights I\ntake you to, and you will be taught another lesson.\"\n\n\"Fair damsel, if you will but give me courteous language, I shall ask no\nmore. As for the knights you speak of, let come what will come.\"\n\n\"I say this for your own good; for if you continue to follow me you\nwill be slain. What you have done is by misadventure, not by prowess. If\nyou are wise, you will turn back with what little honor you may claim.\"\n\n\"Say what you choose, damsel, but wherever you go there go I, and it\nwill take more than insulting words to turn me back.\"\n\nSo they rode on till evening, she continuing to chide and berate him,\nand bid him leave her, and he answering meekly, but with no abatement of\nhis resolution.\n\nFinally a strange sight came to them. For before them they saw a black\nlawn, in whose midst grew a black hawthorn. On one side of this hung a\nblack banner, and on the other a black shield, while near by stood a\nblack spear of great size, and a massive black horse covered with silk.\nNear by was a knight armed in black armor, who was known as the Knight\nof the Black Lawn.\n\nThe damsel, on seeing this knight, bade Beaumains flee down the valley,\ntelling him that he might still escape, for the knight's horse was not\nsaddled.\n\n\"Gramercy,\" said Beaumains, \"will you always take me for a coward? I fly\nnot from one man, though he be as black as ten ravens.\"\n\nThe black knight, seeing them approach, thus addressed the damsel,--\n\n\"So, my lady, you are here again! Have you brought this knight from King\nArthur's court to be your champion?\"\n\n\"Hardly so, fair sir. This is but a kitchen knave, who was fed in\nArthur's court through charity, and has followed me as a cur follows\nhis master.\"\n\n\"Why comes he then in knightly guise? And what do you in such foul\ncompany?\"\n\n\"I cannot get rid of him, sir. He rides with me in my despite. I bring\nhim here that you may rid me of the unhappy knave. Through mishap and\ntreachery he killed two knights at the river ford, and did other deeds\nthat might have been of worth were they fairly done. Yet he is but a\nsorry poltroon.\"\n\n\"I am surprised,\" said the black knight, \"that any man of worth will\nfight with him.\"\n\n\"They knew him not,\" she answered, \"and fancy him of some credit from\nhis riding with me, and from his brave show of armor.\"\n\n\"That may be,\" said the black knight. \"Yet, knave or not, he looks like\na strong fellow. This much I shall do to relieve you of him. I shall put\nhim on foot, and take from him his horse and armor. It would be a shame\nto do him more harm.\"\n\nBeaumains had heard all this, biting his lips in anger. He now\nscornfully replied,--\n\n\"Sir knight, you are liberal in disposing of my horse and armor, but\nbeware you do not pay a fair price for them. Whether you like it or not,\nthis lawn I shall pass, and you will get no horse or armor of mine till\nyou win them in open fight. Let me see if you can do it.\"\n\n\"Say you so? You shall yield me this lady, or pay dearly for it; for it\ndoes not beseem a kitchen page to ride with a lady of high degree.\"\n\n\"If you want her, you must win her,\" said Beaumains, \"and much comfort\nmay you get from her tongue. As for me, I am a gentleman born, and of\nhigher birth than you; and will prove this on your body if you deny it.\"\n\nThen in hot anger they rode apart, and came together with a sound of\nthunder. The spear of the black knight broke, but Beaumains thrust him\nthrough the side, the spear breaking in his body, and leaving the\ntruncheon in his flesh. Yet, despite his wound, he drew his sword and\nstruck with strength and fury at his antagonist. But the fight lasted\nnot long, for the black knight, faint with loss of blood, fell from his\nhorse in a swoon, and quickly died.\n\nThen Beaumains, seeing that the horse and armor were better than his\nown, dismounted and put on the dead knight's armor. Now, mounting the\nsable horse, he rode after the damsel. On coming up she greeted him as\nbefore.\n\n\"Away, knave, the smell of thy clothes displeases me. And what a pity it\nis that such as you should by mishap slay so good a knight! But you will\nbe quickly repaid, unless you fly, for there is a knight hereby who is\ndouble your match.\"\n\n\"I may be beaten or slain, fair damsel,\" said Beaumains; \"but you cannot\ndrive me off by foul words, or by talking of knights who will beat or\nkill me. Somehow I ride on and leave your knights on the ground. You\nwould do well to hold your peace, for I shall follow you, whatever may\nhappen, unless I be truly beaten or slain.\"\n\nSo they rode on, Beaumains in silence, but the damsel still at times\nreviling, till they saw approaching them a knight who was all in green,\nboth horse and harness. As he came nigh, he asked the damsel,--\n\n\"Is that my brother, the black knight, who rides with you?\"\n\n\"No,\" she replied. \"Your brother is dead. This unhappy kitchen knave has\nslain him through mishap.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" cried the green knight, \"has so noble a warrior as he been slain\nby a knave! Traitor, you shall die for your deed!\"\n\n\"I defy you,\" said Beaumains. \"I slew him knightly and not shamefully,\nand am ready to answer to you with sword and spear.\"\n\nThen the knight took a green horn from his saddle-bow, and blew on it\nthree warlike notes. Immediately two damsels appeared, who aided him in\narming. This done, he mounted his steed, took from their hands a green\nspear and green shield, and stationed himself opposite Beaumains.\n\nSetting spurs to their horses they rode furiously together, both\nbreaking their spears, but keeping their seats. Then they attacked each\nother, sword in hand, and cut and slashed with knightly vigor. At\nlength, in a sudden wheel, Beaumains's horse struck that of the green\nknight on the side and overturned it, the knight having to leap quickly\nto escape being overthrown.\n\nWhen Beaumains saw this, he also sprang to the earth and met his\nantagonist on foot. Here they fought for a long time, till both had lost\nmuch blood.\n\n\"You should be ashamed to stand so long fighting with a kitchen knave,\"\ncried the damsel at last to the green knight. \"Who made you knight, that\nyou let such a lad match you, as the weed overgrows the corn?\"\n\nHer words of scorn so angered the green knight that he struck a wrathful\nblow at Beaumains, which cut deeply into his shield. Beaumains, roused\nby this and by the damsel's language, struck back with such might on the\nhelm of his foe as to hurl him to his knees. Then, seizing him, he flung\nhim to the ground, and towered above him with upraised sword.\n\n\"I yield me!\" cried the knight. \"Slay me not, I beg of you.\"\n\n\"You shall die,\" answered Beaumains, \"unless this damsel pray me to\nspare your life,\" and he unlaced his helm, as with intent to slay him.\n\n\"Pray you to save his life!\" cried the damsel, in scorn. \"I shall never\nso demean myself to a page of the kitchen.\"\n\n\"Then he shall die.\"\n\n\"Slay him, if you will. Ask me not to beg for his life.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said the green knight, \"you would not let me die when you can\nsave my life with a word? Fair sir, spare me, and I will forgive you my\nbrother's death, and become your man, with thirty knights who are at my\ncommand.\"\n\n\"In the fiend's name!\" cried the damsel, \"shall such a knave have\nservice of thee and thirty knights?\"\n\n\"All this avails nothing,\" said Beaumains. \"You shall have your life\nonly at this damsel's request,\" and he made a show as if he would slay\nhim.\n\n\"Let him be, knave,\" said the damsel. \"Slay him not, or you shall repent\nit.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" said Beaumains, \"your request is to me a command and a\npleasure. His life shall be spared, since you ask it. Sir knight of the\ngreen array, I release you at the damsel's request, for I am bound by\nher wish, and will do all that she commands.\"\n\nThen the green knight kneeled down and did homage with his sword.\n\n\"I am sorry, sir knight, for your mishap, and for your brother's death,\"\nsaid the damsel. \"I had great need of your help, for I dread the passage\nof this forest.\"\n\n\"You need not,\" he replied. \"To-night you shall lodge at my castle, and\nto-morrow I will aid you to pass the forest.\"\n\nSo they rode to his manor, which was not far distant. Here it happened\nas it had on the evening before, for the damsel reviled Beaumains, and\nwould not listen to his sitting at the same table with her.\n\n\"Why deal you such despite to this noble warrior?\" said the green\nknight. \"You are wrong, for he will do you good service, and whatever he\ndeclares himself to be, I warrant in the end you will find him to come\nof right noble blood.\"\n\n\"You say far more of him than he deserves,\" she replied. \"I know him too\nwell.\"\n\n\"And so do I, for he is the best champion I ever found; and I have\nfought in my day with many worthy knights.\"\n\nThat night, when they went to rest, the green knight set a guard over\nBeaumains's chamber, for he feared some harm to him from the bitter\nscorn and hatred of the damsel. In the morning he rode with them through\nthe forest, and at parting said,--\n\n\"My lord Beaumains, I and my knights shall always be at your summons,\nearly or late, or whatever be the service you demand.\"\n\n\"That is well said. When I require your service it will be to yield\nyourself and your knights to King Arthur.\"\n\n\"If you bid us do so, we shall be ready at all times.\"\n\n\"Fie on you!\" said the damsel. \"It shames me to see good knights\nobedient to a kitchen knave.\"\n\nAfter they had parted she turned to Beaumains, and said, despitefully,--\n\n\"Why wilt thou follow me, lackey of the kitchen? Cast away thy spear and\nshield and fly while you may, for that is at hand which you will not\neasily escape. Were you Lancelot himself, or any knight of renown, you\nwould not lightly venture on a pass just in advance of us, called the\npass perilous.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" said Beaumains, \"he who is afraid let him flee. It would be a\nshame for me to turn back, after having ridden so far with you.\"\n\n\"You soon shall, whether it be to your liking or not,\" replied the\ndamsel, scornfully.\n\nWhat the damsel meant quickly appeared, for in a little time they came\nin sight of a tower which was white as snow in hue, and with every\nappliance for defence. Over the gateway hung fifty shields of varied\ncolors, and in front spread a level meadow. On this meadow were\nscaffolds and pavilions, and many knights were there, for there was to\nbe a tournament on the morrow.\n\nThe lord of the castle was at a window, and as he looked upon the\ntournament field he saw approaching a damsel, a dwarf, and a knight\narmed at all points.\n\n\"A knight-errant, as I live!\" said the lord. \"By my faith, I shall joust\nwith him, and get myself in train for the tournament.\"\n\nHe hastily armed and rode from the gates. What Beaumains saw was a\nknight all in red, his horse, harness, shield, spear, and armor alike\nbeing of this blood-like color. The red knight was, indeed, brother to\nthose whom Beaumains had lately fought, and on seeing the black array of\nthe youth, he cried,--\n\n\"Brother, is it you? What do you in these marshes?\"\n\n\"No, no, it is not he,\" said the damsel, \"but a kitchen knave who has\nbeen brought up on alms in Arthur's court.\"\n\n\"Then how got he that armor?\"\n\n\"He has slain your brother, the black knight, and taken his horse and\narms. He has also overcome your brother, the green knight. I hope you\nmay revenge your brothers on him, for I see no other way of getting rid\nof him.\"\n\n\"I will try,\" said the red knight, grimly. \"Sir knight, take your place\nfor a joust.\"\n\nBeaumains, who had not yet spoken, rode to a proper distance, and then\nthe two knights rushed together with such even force that both horses\nfell to the ground, the riders nimbly leaping from them.\n\nThen with sword and shield they fought like wild boars for the space of\ntwo hours, advancing, retreating, feigning, striking, now here, now\nthere, till both were well weary of the fray. But the damsel, who looked\non, now cried loudly to the red knight,--\n\n\"Alas, noble sir, will you let a kitchen knave thus endure your might,\nafter all the honor you have won from worthy champions?\"\n\nThen the red knight flamed with wrath, and attacked Beaumains with such\nfury that he wounded him so that the blood flowed in a stream to the\nground. Yet the young knight held his own bravely, giving stroke for\nstroke, and by a final blow hurled his antagonist to the earth. He had\nraised his sword to slay him, when the red knight craved mercy,\nsaying,--\n\n\"Noble, sir, you have me at advantage, but I pray you not to slay me. I\nyield me with the fifty knights at my command. And I forgive you all you\nhave done to my brothers.\"\n\n\"That will not suffice,\" said Beaumains. \"You must die, unless the\ndamsel shall pray me to spare your life.\" And he raised his sword as if\nfor the fatal blow.\n\n\"Let him live, then, Beaumains. He is a noble knight, and it is only by\na chance blow that you have overcome him.\"\n\n\"It is enough that you ask it,\" said Beaumains. \"Rise, sir knight, and\nthank this damsel for your life.\"\n\nThe red knight did so, and then prayed that they would enter his castle\nand spend the night there. To this they consented, but as they sat at\nsupper the damsel continued to berate her champion, in such language\nthat their host marvelled at the meekness of the knight.\n\nIn the morning the red knight came to Beaumains with his followers, and\nproffered to him his homage and fealty at all times.\n\n\"I thank you,\" said Beaumains, \"but all I ask is, that when I demand it\nyou shall go to Arthur's court, and yield yourself as his knight.\"\n\n\"I and my fellowship will ever be ready at your summons,\" replied the\nred knight.\n\nThen Beaumains and the damsel resumed their journey, while she, as if in\na fury of spite, berated him more vilely than ever before.\n\n\"Fair lady,\" he said, with all meekness, \"you are discourteous to revile\nme as you do. What would you have of me? The knights that you have\nthreatened me with are all dead or my vassals. When you see me beaten,\nthen you may bid me go in shame and I will obey, but till then I will\nnot leave you. I were worse than a fool to be driven off by insulting\nwords when I am daily winning honor.\"\n\n\"You shall soon meet a knight who will test your boasted strength. So\nfar you have fought with boys. Now you have a man who would try Arthur's\nself.\"\n\n\"Let him come,\" said Beaumains. \"The better a man he is, the more honor\nshall I gain from a joust with him.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTHE RED KNIGHT OF THE RED LAWNS.\n\n\nBeaumains rode forward with the damsel till it was close upon the hour\nof noon, when he saw that they were approaching a rich and fair city,\nwell walled, and with many noble buildings.\n\nBetween them and the city extended a new-mown meadow, a mile and a half\nin width, on which were placed many handsome pavilions.\n\n\"These pavilions belong to the lord who owns that city,\" said the\ndamsel. \"It is his custom, during fair weather, to joust and tourney in\nthis meadow. He has around him five hundred knights and gentlemen of\narms, and they have knightly games of all sorts.\"\n\n\"I shall be glad to see that worthy lord,\" said Beaumains.\n\n\"That you shall, and very soon.\"\n\nShe rode on till she came in sight of the lord's pavilion.\n\n\"Look yonder,\" she said. \"That rich pavilion, of the color of India, is\nhis. All about him, men and women, and horse-trappings, shields, and\nspears, are of the same rare color. His name is Sir Persant of India,\nand you will find him the lordliest knight you ever saw.\"\n\n\"Be he never so stout a knight,\" answered Beaumains, \"I shall abide in\nthis field till I see him behind his shield.\"\n\n\"That is a fool's talk,\" she replied. \"If you were a wise man, you\nwould fly.\"\n\n\"Why should I?\" rejoined Beaumains. \"If he be as noble a knight as you\nsay, he will meet me alone; not with all his men. And if there come but\none at a time I shall not fail to face them while life lasts.\"\n\n\"That is a proud boast for a greasy kitchen lout,\" she answered.\n\n\"Let him come and do his worst,\" said Beaumains. \"I would rather fight\nhim five times over than endure your insults. You are greatly to blame\nto treat me so vilely.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" she replied, with a sudden change of tone, \"I marvel greatly who\nyou are, and of what kindred you come. This I will admit, that you have\nperformed as boldly as you have promised. But you and your horse have\nhad great labor, and I fear we have been too long on the road. The place\nwe seek is but seven miles away, and we have passed all points of peril\nexcept this. I dread, therefore, that you may receive some hurt from\nthis strong knight that will unfit you for the task before you. For\nPersant, strong as he is, is no match for the knight who besieges my\nlady, and I would have you save your strength for the work you have\nundertaken.\"\n\n\"Be that as it may,\" said Beaumains, \"I have come so near the knight\nthat I cannot withdraw without shame. I hope, with God's aid, to become\nhis master within two hours, and then we can reach your lady's castle\nbefore the day ends.\"\n\n\"Much I marvel,\" cried the damsel, \"what manner of man you are. You must\nbe of noble blood, for no woman ever before treated a knight so\nshamefully as I have you, and you have ever borne it courteously and\nmeekly. Such patience could never come but from gentle blood.\"\n\n\"A knight who cannot bear a woman's words had better doff his armor,\"\nanswered Beaumains. \"Do not think that I heeded not your words. But the\nanger they gave me was the worse for my adversaries, and you only aided\nto make me prove myself a man of worth and honor. If I had meat in\nArthur's kitchen, what odds? I could have had enough of it in many a\nplace. I did it but to prove who were worthy to be my friends, and that\nI will in time make known. Whether I be a gentleman born or not, I have\ndone you a gentleman's service, and may do better before we part.\"\n\n\"That you have, fair Beaumains,\" she said. \"I ask your forgiveness for\nall I have said or done.\"\n\n\"I forgive you with all my heart,\" he replied. \"It pleases me so to be\nwith you that I have found joy even in your evil words. And now that you\nare pleased to speak courteously to me, it seems to me that I am stout\nat heart enough to meet any knight living.\"\n\nAs to the battle that followed between Beaumains and Persant, it began\nand ended much like those that we have related, Persant in the end being\novercome, and gaining his life at the lady's request. He yielded himself\nand a hundred knights to be at Beaumains's command, and invited the\ntravellers to his pavilion, where they were feasted nobly.\n\nIn the morning Beaumains and the damsel after breakfasting, prepared to\ncontinue their journey.\n\n\"Whither do you lead this knight?\" asked Persant of the damsel.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" she replied, \"he is going to the aid of my sister, who is\nbesieged in the Castle Dangerous.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" cried Persant, \"then he will have to do with the Knight of the Red\nLawns, a man without mercy, and with the strength of seven men. I fear\nyou take too perilous a task, fair sir. This villain has done great\nwrong to the lady of the castle, Dame Lioness. I think, fair damsel, you\nare her sister, Linet?\"\n\n\"That is my name,\" replied the damsel.\n\n\"This I may say,\" rejoined Persant: \"the Knight of the Red Lawns would\nhave had the castle long ago, but it is his purpose to draw to the\nrescue Lancelot, Gawaine, Tristram, or Lamorak, whom he is eager to\nmatch his might against.\"\n\n\"My Lord Persant of India,\" said Linet, \"will you not make this\ngentleman a knight before he meets this dread warrior?\"\n\n\"With all my heart,\" answered Persant.\n\n\"I thank you for your good will,\" said Beaumains, \"but I have been\nalready knighted, and that by the hand of Sir Lancelot.\"\n\n\"You could have had the honor from no more renowned knight,\" answered\nPersant. \"He, Tristram, and Lamorak now bear the meed of highest renown,\nand if you fairly match the red knight you may claim to make a fourth in\nthe world's best champions.\"\n\n\"I shall ever do my best,\" answered Beaumains. \"This I may tell you: I\nam of noble birth. If you and the damsel will keep my secret I will tell\nit you.\"\n\n\"We shall not breathe it except with your permission,\" they replied.\n\n\"Then I will acknowledge that my name is Gareth of Orkney, that King Lot\nwas my father, and that I am a nephew of King Arthur, and brother to\nGawaine, Gaheris, and Agravaine. Yet none of these know who I am, for\nthey left my father's castle while I was but a child.\"\n\nWhile they were thus taking leave, Beaumains's dwarf had ridden ahead to\nthe besieged castle, where he saw the Lady Lioness, and told her of the\nchampion her sister was bringing, and what deeds he had done.\n\n\"I am glad enough of these tidings,\" said the lady. \"There is a\nhermitage of mine near by, where I would have you go, and take thither\ntwo silver flagons of wine, of two gallons each; also bread, baked\nvenison, and fowls. I give you also a rich cup of gold for the knight's\nuse. Then go to my sister, and bid her present my thanks to the knight,\nand pray him to eat and drink, that he may be strong for the great task\nhe undertakes. Tell him I thank him for his courtesy and goodness, and\nthat he whom he is to meet has none of these qualities, but strong and\nbold as he is, cares for nothing but murder.\"\n\nThis message the dwarf brought back, and led the knight and damsel to\nthe hermitage, where they rested and feasted on the rich food provided.\nThey spent the night there, and in the morning heard mass and broke\ntheir fast. Then they mounted and rode towards the besieged castle.\n\nTheir journey soon brought them to a plain, where they saw many tents\nand pavilions, and a castle in the distance. And there was a great noise\nand much smoke, as from a large encampment. As they came nearer the\ncastle Beaumains saw before him a number of great trees, and from these\nhung by the neck armed knights, with their shields and swords, and gilt\nspurs on their heels. Of these there were in all nearly forty.\n\n\"What means this sorrowful sight?\" asked Beaumains, with a look of deep\nconcern.\n\n\"Do not be depressed by what you see,\" said Linet. \"You must keep in\nspirit, or it will be the worse for you and us all. These knights came\nhere to the rescue of my sister, and the red knight, when he had\novercome them, put them to this shameful death, without mercy or pity.\nHe will serve you in the same way if he should vanquish you.\"\n\n\"Jesu defend me from such a shameful death and disgrace!\" cried\nBeaumains. \"If I must die, I hope to be slain in open battle.\"\n\n\"It would be better, indeed. But trust not to his courtesy, for thus he\ntreats all.\"\n\n\"It is a marvel that so vile a murderer has been left to live so long. I\nshall do my best to end his career of crime.\"\n\nThen they rode to the castle, and found it surrounded with high and\nstrong walls, with double ditches, and lofty towers within. Near the\nwalls were lodged many lords of the besieging army, and there was great\nsound of minstrelsy and merry-making. On the opposite side of the castle\nwas the sea, and here vessels rode the waves and the cries of mariners\nwere heard.\n\nNear where they stood was a lofty sycamore-tree, and on its trunk hung a\nmighty horn made from an elephant's tusk. This the Knight of the Red\nLawns had hung there, in order that any errant knight, who wished to\nbattle for the castle, might summons him to the fray.\n\n\"But let me warn you,\" said Linet, \"not to blow it till noon. For it is\nnow nearly day, and men say that his strength increases till the\nnoontide hour. To blow it now would double your peril.\"\n\n\"Do not advise me thus, fair damsel,\" said Beaumains. \"I shall meet him\nat his highest might, and win worshipfully or die knightly in the field.\nIt must be man to man and might to might.\"\n\nTherewith he spurred his horse to the sycamore, and, taking the horn in\nhand, blew with it such a blast that castle and camp rang with the\nsound.\n\nAt the mighty blast knights leaped from their tents and pavilions, and\nthose in the castle looked from walls and windows, to see what manner of\nman was this that blew so lustily. But the Red Knight of the Red Lawns\narmed in all haste, for he had already been told by the dwarf of the\napproach of this champion. He was all blood-red in hue, armor, shield,\nand spurs. An earl buckled on his helm, and they then brought him a red\nsteed and a red spear, and he rode into a little vale near the castle,\nso that all within and without the castle might behold the battle.\n\n\"Look you be light and glad,\" said Linet to the knight, \"for yonder is\nyour deadly enemy, and at yonder window is my sister, Dame Lioness.\"\n\n\"Where?\" asked Beaumains.\n\n\"Yonder,\" she said, pointing.\n\n\"I see her,\" said Beaumains. \"And from here she seems the fairest lady I\never looked upon. I ask no better quarrel than to fight for her, and\nwish no better fate than to greet her as my lady,\" and his face grew\nglad as he looked up to the window.\n\nAs he did so the Lady Lioness made a grateful courtesy to him, bending\nto the earth and holding up her hands. This courtesy was returned by\nBeaumains; but now the Knight of the Red Lawns rode forward.\n\n\"Leave your looking, sir knight,\" he said. \"Or look this way, for I warn\nyou that she is my lady, and I have done many battles for her.\"\n\n\"You waste your time, then, it seems to me, for she wants none of your\nlove. And to waste love on those who want it not is but folly. If I\nthought she would not thank me for it, I would think twice before doing\nbattle for her. But she plainly wants not you, and I will tell you this:\nI love her, and will rescue her or die.\"\n\n\"Say you so? The knights who hang yonder might give you warning.\"\n\n\"You shame yourself and knighthood by such an evil custom,\" said\nBeaumains, hotly. \"How can any lady love such a man as you? That\nshameful sight gives me more courage than fear, for I am nerved now to\nrevenge those knights as well as to rescue yonder lady.\"\n\n\"Make ready,\" cried the red knight; \"we have talked enough.\"\n\nThen Beaumains bade the damsel retire to a safe distance. Taking their\nplaces, they put their spears in rest, and came together like two\nthunderbolts, each smiting the other so fiercely that the breast-plates,\nhorse-girths, and cruppers burst, and both fell to the earth with the\nbridle-reins still in their hands, and they lay awhile stunned by the\nfall.\n\nSo long they lay indeed that all who looked on thought that both their\nnecks were broken, and said that the stranger knight must be of mighty\nprowess, for never had the red knight been so roughly handled before.\n\nBut ere long the knights regained their breath and sprang to their feet.\nThen, drawing their swords, they ran like fierce lions together, giving\neach other such buffets on the helms that both reeled backwards, while\npieces were hewed out from their armor and shields and fell into the\nfield.\n\nThus they fought on till it was past noon, when both stopped for breath,\nand stood panting and bleeding till many who beheld them wept for pity.\nWhen they had rested awhile they again went to battle, now gnashing at\neach other with their swords like tusked boars, and now running together\nlike furious rams, so that at times both fell to the ground; and at\ntimes they were grappled so closely that they changed swords in the\nwrestle.\n\nThis went on till evening was near at hand, and so evenly they continued\nmatched that none could know which would win. Their armor was so hewn\naway that the naked flesh showed in places, and these places they did\ntheir utmost to defend. The red knight was a wily fighter, and Beaumains\nsuffered sorely before he learned his methods and met him in his own\nway.\n\nAt length, by mutual assent, they granted each other a short time for\nrest, and seated themselves upon two hillocks, where each had his page\nto unlace his helm and give him a breath of the cold air.\n\nWhile Beaumains's helm was off he looked at the castle window, and there\nsaw the Lady Lioness, who looked at him in such wise that his heart grew\nlight with joy, and he bade the red knight to make ready, for the battle\nmust begin again.\n\nThen they laced their helms and stepped together and fought freshly. But\nBeaumains came near to disaster, for the red knight, by a skilful sword\nsweep, struck his sword from his hand, and then gave him such a buffet\non the helm as hurled him to the earth.\n\nThe red knight ran forward to his fallen foe, but Linet cried loudly,--\n\n\"Oh, Beaumains, where is thy valor gone? Alas, my sister sobs and weeps\nto see you overthrown, till my own heart is heavy for her grief.\"\n\nHearing this, Beaumains sprang to his feet before his foe could reach\nhim, and with a leap recovered his sword, which he gripped with a strong\nhand. And thus he faced again his surprised antagonist.\n\nThen the young knight, nerved by love and desperation, poured such\nfierce blows on his enemy that he smote the sword from his hand and\nbrought him to the earth with a fiery blow on the helm.\n\nBefore the red knight could rise, Beaumains threw himself upon him, and\ntore his helm from his head with intent to slay him. But the fallen\nknight cried loudly,--\n\n\"O noble knight, I yield me to thy mercy.\"\n\n\"Why should you have it, after the shameful death you have given to so\nmany knights?\"\n\n\"I did all this through love,\" answered the red knight. \"I loved a lady\nwhose brother was slain by Lancelot or Gawaine, as she said. She made me\nswear on my knighthood to fight till I met one of them, and put to a\nshameful death all I overcame. And I vowed to fight King Arthur's\nknights above all, till I should meet him that had slain her brother.\"\n\nThen there came up many earls, and barons, and noble knights, who fell\nupon their knees and prayed for mercy to the vanquished, saying,--\n\n\"Sir, it were fairer to take homage and fealty of him, and let him hold\nhis lands of you, than to slay him. Nothing wrong that he has done will\nbe undone by his death, and we will all become your men, and do you\nhomage and fealty.\"\n\n\"Fair lords,\" said Beaumains, \"I am loath to slay this knight, though\nhis deeds have been ill and shameful. But as he acted through a lady's\nrequest I blame him the less, and will release him on these conditions:\nHe must go into the castle and yield to the Lady Lioness, and make\namends to her for his trespass on her lands; then if she forgives him I\nwill. Afterwards he must go to the court of King Arthur and obtain\nforgiveness from Lancelot and Gawaine for the ill will he has borne\nthem.\"\n\n\"All this I will do,\" said the red knight, \"and give you pledges and\nsureties therefore.\"\n\nThen Beaumains granted him his life, and permitted him to rise.\nAfterwards the damsel Linet disarmed Beaumains and applied healing\nunguents to his wounds, and performed the same service for the red\nknight. For ten days thereafter Beaumains dwelt with the red knight, who\nshowed him all the honor possible, and who afterwards went into the\ncastle and submitted himself to the Lady Lioness, according to the terms\nof his compact.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nHOW BEAUMAINS WON HIS BRIDE.\n\n\nAfter the ten days of feasting and pleasure that followed the events we\nhave just related, the Red Knight of the Red Lawns set out with his\nnoblest followers to Arthur's court, to make submission as he had\ncovenanted. When he had gone, Beaumains armed himself, took his horse\nand spear, and rode to the castle of the Lady Lioness. But when he came\nto the gate he found there many armed men, who pulled up the drawbridge\nand let fall the portcullis.\n\nMarvelling deeply that he was denied admittance, Beaumains looked up at\nthe window, where he saw the lady of the castle, who called out to\nhim,--\n\n\"Go thy way, Sir Beaumains. You shall not yet have my love till you have\nearned for yourself a name of world-wide honor. I bid you, therefore,\ngo strive for fame and glory this twelvemonth, and when you return you\nshall hear new tidings.\"\n\n\"Alas, fair lady,\" said Beaumains, \"is this all I have deserved of you?\nI thought I had bought your love at the price of some of the best blood\nin my body.\"\n\n\"Fair, courteous knight, be not so hasty,\" answered Lioness. \"Your labor\nand your love shall not be lost. A twelvemonth will soon pass away; and\ntrust me that I shall be true to you, and to my death shall love no\nother than you.\"\n\nWith this she turned from the window, and Beaumains rode slowly away\nfrom the castle in deep sorrow, and heeding not whither he went till\ndeep night came upon him. The next day he rode in the same heedless\nfashion, and at night couched in a wayside lodge, bidding the dwarf\nguard his horse and watch all night.\n\nBut near day dawn came a knight in black armor, who, seeing that\nBeaumains slept soundly, crept slyly behind the dwarf, caught him up\nunder his arm, and rode away with him at full speed. But as he rode, the\ndwarf called loudly to his master for help, waking the sleeping knight,\nwho sprang to his feet and saw the robber and the dwarf vanishing into\nthe distance.\n\nThen Beaumains armed himself in a fury, and rode straight forward\nthrough marshes and dales, so hot upon the chase that he heeded not the\nroad, and was more than once flung by his stumbling horse into the mire.\nAt length he met a country-man, whom he asked for information.\n\n[Illustration: BEAUMAINS, DAMSEL, AND DWARF.]\n\n\"Sir knight,\" he answered, \"I have seen the rider with the dwarf. But I\nadvise you to follow him no farther. His name is Sir Gringamore; he\ndwells but two miles from here, and he is one of the most valiant\nknights of the country round.\"\n\nWith little dread from this warning, Beaumains rode on, with double fury\nas he came near the robber's castle. Soon he thundered through the\ngates, which stood wide open, and sword in hand cried, in a voice that\nrang through the castle,--\n\n\"Thou traitor, Sir Gringamore, yield me my dwarf again, or by the faith\nthat I owe to the order of knighthood I will make you repent bitterly\nyour false deed.\"\n\nMeanwhile, within the castle matters of interest were occurring. For\nGringamore was brother to the Lady Lioness, and had stolen the dwarf at\nher request, that she might learn from him who Beaumains really was. The\ndwarf, under threat of imprisonment for life, thus answered,--\n\n\"I fear to tell his name and kindred. Yet if I must I will say that he\nis a king's son, that his mother is sister to King Arthur, and that his\nname is Sir Gareth of Orkney. Now, I pray you, let me go to him again,\nfor he will have me in spite of you, and if he be angry, he will work\nyou much rack and ruin.\"\n\n\"As for that,\" said Gringamore, \"it can wait. Let us go to dinner.\"\n\n\"He may well be a king's son,\" said Linet to her sister, \"for he is the\nmost courteous and long-suffering man I ever met. I tried him with such\nreviling as never lady uttered before, but he bore it all with meek and\ngentle answers. Yet to armed knights he was like a lion.\"\n\nAs they thus talked, the challenge of Beaumains rang loud from the\ncastle court. Then Gringamore called loudly to him from a window,--\n\n\"Cease your boasting, Gareth of Orkney, you will not get your dwarf\nagain.\"\n\n\"Thou coward knight,\" cried Beaumains. \"Bring him here, and do battle\nwith me. Then if you can win him, keep him.\"\n\n\"So I will when I am ready. But you will not get him by loud words.\"\n\n\"Do not anger him, brother,\" said Lioness. \"I have all I want from the\ndwarf, and he may have him again. But do not let him know who I am. Let\nhim think me a strange lady.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Gringamore; \"if that is your wish, he can have the\ndwarf.\" Then he went down to the court and said,--\n\n\"Sir, I beg your pardon, and am ready to amend all the harm I have done\nyou. Pray alight, and take such cheer as my poor castle affords.\"\n\n\"Shall I have my dwarf?\" said Gareth.\n\n\"Yes. Since he told me who you are, and of your noble deeds, I am ready\nto return him.\"\n\nThen Gareth dismounted, and the dwarf came and took his horse.\n\n\"Oh, my little fellow,\" said Gareth, \"I have had many adventures for\nyour sake.\"\n\nGringamore then led him into the hall and presented him to his wife. And\nwhile they stood there conversing Dame Lioness came forth dressed like a\nprincess, and was presented to the knight.\n\nWhen Gareth saw her his feeling for the Lady Lioness weakened in his\nheart, and it grew ready to vanish as the day passed, and he conversed\nmuch with this strange and lovely lady. There were all manner of games,\nand sports of dancing and singing, and the more he beheld her the more\nhe loved her, while through his heart ran ever the thought: \"Would that\nthe lady of the Castle Dangerous were half so lovely and charming as\nthis beautiful stranger.\"\n\nWhen supper came, Gareth could not eat, and hardly knew where he was, so\nhot had his love grown. All this was noted by Gringamore, who after\nsupper took his sister aside and said,--\n\n\"I can well see how matters stand between you and this noble knight. And\nit seems to me you cannot do better than to bestow your hand upon him.\"\n\n\"I should like to try him further,\" she replied, \"though he has done me\nnoble service, and my heart is warmly turned to him.\"\n\nGringamore then went to Gareth and said,--\n\n\"Sir, I welcome you gladly to my house, for I can see that you dearly\nlove my sister, and that she loves you as well. With my will she is\nyours if you wish her.\"\n\n\"If she will accept me,\" answered Gareth, \"there will be no happier man\non earth.\"\n\n\"Trust me for that,\" said Gringamore.\n\n\"I fancied I loved the Lady Lioness,\" said Gareth, \"and promised for her\nsake to return to this country in a twelvemonth. But since I have seen\nyour sister I fear my love for her is gone.\"\n\n\"It was too sudden to be deep,\" said Gringamore. \"She will be consoled,\ndoubt not. Now let me take you to my sister.\"\n\nThen he led Gareth to his sister and left them together, where they told\neach other their love, and Gareth kissed her many times, and their\nhearts were filled with joy.\n\n\"But how is it with the Lady Lioness, to whom you vowed your love?\" she\nasked.\n\n\"Promised; not vowed,\" he answered. \"And she was not ready to accept it,\nbut gave me a twelvemonth's probation. Moreover, I saw but her face at a\nwindow, and that was little to base love upon.\"\n\n\"Did she look like me?\"\n\n\"Somewhat, but not half so lovely.\"\n\n\"Do you think you could have loved her so well?\"\n\n\"No, indeed; for I will vow by sword and spear that there is no woman in\nthe world so charming as you.\"\n\n\"I fear that the Lady Lioness loves you, and that her heart will be\nbroken.\"\n\n\"How could she? She saw so little of me.\"\n\n\"I know she loves you; she has told me so. I bid you to forget me and\nmake her happy.\"\n\n\"That I can never do. You do not love me, or you could not say this.\"\n\n\"You are my heart's desire. But I feel deeply for the Lady Lioness,\nwhose love I know. If you cannot love her alone, you may love us both\ntogether. I grant you this privilege.\"\n\n\"I will not accept it,\" said Gareth, looking strangely at her smiling\ncountenance. \"I love but you; my heart can hold no more.\"\n\n\"You blind fellow,\" she answered, with a merry laugh, \"you looked not at\nthe Lady Lioness closely, or you would not so easily forget your troth\nplight. Know, sirrah, that I am the lady of the Castle Dangerous, that\nmy name is Lioness, and that I am she whom you have so lightly thrown\naside for the love of a strange lady.\"\n\nThen Gareth looked into her glowing countenance, and saw there that she\nspoke the truth and that he had been pleasantly beguiled. With a warm\nimpulse of love he caught her in his arms and kissed her rosy lips,\nexclaiming,--\n\n\"I withdraw it all. I love you both; the lady of the Castle Dangerous a\nlittle; but the lady of the Castle Amorous as my heart's mistress, to\ndwell there while life remains.\"\n\nThen they conversed long and joyfully, and she told him why she had made\nher brother steal the dwarf, and why she had deceived him, so as to win\nhis love for herself alone. And they plighted their troth, and vowed\nthat their love for each other should never cease.\n\nOther strange things happened to Gareth in that castle, through the\nspells of the damsel Linet, who knew something of sorcery. But these we\nshall not tell, but return to King Arthur's court, in which at the next\nfeast of Pentecost a high festival was held at Carlion.\n\nHither, during the feast, came all those whom Gareth had overcome, and\nyielded themselves, saying that they had been sent thither by a knight\nnamed Beaumains. But most of all was Arthur surprised by the deeds of\nhis kitchen boy when the Red Knight of the Red Lawns rode up with six\nhundred followers, and yielded himself as vassal to Beaumains and to the\nking. Arthur then, charging him strictly that he should do no more deeds\nof murder, gave to Sir Ironside, which was the knight's name, the\ngreatest honors of his court, and also to the green and the red knights,\nand to Sir Persant of Inde, who were all present with their followers.\n\nBut while the court was at feast there came in the queen of Orkney, with\na great following of knights and ladies, seeking her young son Gareth.\nShe was lovingly saluted by her sons Gawaine, Gaheris, and Agravaine,\nwho for fifteen years had not seen her, but she loudly demanded Gareth\nof her brother King Arthur.\n\n\"He was here among you a twelvemonth, and you made a kitchen knave of\nhim, which I hold to be a shame to you all. What have you done to the\ndear son who was my joy and bliss?\"\n\nThese words filled all hearts with a strange sensation, and most of all\nthat of Gawaine, who thought it marvellous that he should have made so\nmuch of his brother and not known him. Then Arthur told his sister of\nall that had happened, and cheered her heart with a recital of her son's\ngreat deeds, and promised to have the whole realm searched till he\nshould be found.\n\n\"You shall not need,\" said Lancelot. \"My advice is that you send a\nmessenger to Dame Lioness, and request her to come in all haste to\ncourt. Let her give you counsel where to find him. I doubt not she knows\nwhere he is.\"\n\nThis counsel seemed judicious to the king, and he sent the messenger as\nrequested, who came in due time to the Castle Dangerous, and delivered\nhis letters to Lioness.\n\nShe brought these to her brother and Gareth, and asked what she should\ndo.\n\n\"My lady and love,\" said Gareth, \"if you go to Arthur's court I beg that\nyou will not let them know where I am. But give this advice to the king,\nthat he call a great tournament, to be held at your castle at the feast\nof the Assumption, and announce that whatever knight proves himself best\nshall wed you and win your lands. Be sure that I will be there to do my\nbest in your service.\"\n\nThis advice pleased the lady, whose warm faith in the prowess of her\nlover told her that he would win in the tournament. She therefore set\nout with a noble escort and rode to King Arthur's court, where she was\nreceived with the highest honors. The king closely questioned her about\nSir Gareth, desiring particularly to know what had become of him. She\nanswered that where he was she was not at liberty to tell, and said\nfurther to the king,--\n\n\"Sir, there is a way to find him. It is my purpose to call a tournament,\nwhich shall be held before my castle at the feast of the Assumption.\nYou, my lord Arthur, must be there with your knights, and my knights\nshall be against you. I doubt me not that then you shall hear of Sir\nGareth.\"\n\n\"That is well advised,\" said the king.\n\n\"It shall be announced,\" she continued, \"that the knight who proves the\nbest shall wed me and be lord of my lands. If he be already wedded, his\nwife shall have a coronal of gold, set with precious stones to the value\nof a thousand pounds, and a white jerfalcon.\"\n\n\"It is well,\" said the king. \"That will bring Sir Gareth, if he be alive\nand able to come. If he would win you, he must do his duty nobly.\"\n\nSoon after the Lady Lioness departed and returned to her castle, where\nshe told all that had passed, and began preparations for the tournament,\nwhich was to be held two months from that day.\n\nGareth sent for Sir Persant of Inde, and for Sir Ironside, the Red\nKnight of the Red Lawns, bidding them be ready with all their followers,\nto fight on his side against King Arthur and his knights. And the cry\nfor the tournament was made in England, Wales and Scotland, Ireland, and\nCornwall, and in all the out islands, and in Brittany and other\ncountries. Many good knights came from afar, eager to win honor in the\nlists, the most of whom held with the party of the castle against King\nArthur and his knights.\n\nIn due time King Arthur and his following appeared at the Castle\nDangerous, there being with him Gawaine and the other brothers of\nGareth, Lancelot with his nephews and cousins, and all the most valiant\nKnights of the Round Table, with various kings who owed him knightly\nservice, as noble a band of warriors as had ever been seen in the land.\n\nMeanwhile Dame Lioness had hospitably entertained the knights of her\nparty, providing ample lodging and food, though abundance was left to be\nhad for gold and silver by King Arthur and his knights.\n\nBut Gareth begged her and all who knew him in no manner to make known\nhis name, but to deal with him as if he were the least of their company,\nas he wished to fight in secret and bide his own time to declare\nhimself.\n\n\"Sir,\" said Dame Lioness to him, \"if such be your desire, I will lend\nyou a ring, whose virtue is such that it will turn that which is green\nto red, and that which is red to green; and also turn blue to white, and\nwhite to blue, and so with all colors. And he who wears it will lose no\nblood, however desperately he fights. For the great love I bear you I\nlend you this ring; but as you love me heartily in return, let me have\nit again when the tournament is done, for this ring increases my beauty\nmore than it is of itself.\"\n\n\"My own dear lady,\" cried Gareth, \"now indeed you prove your love for\nme. Gladly shall I wear that ring, for I much desire not to be known.\"\n\nThen Sir Gringamore gave Gareth a powerful bay courser, and a suit of\nthe best of armor; and with them a noble sword which his father had long\nbefore won from a heathen tyrant. And so the lover made ready for the\ntournament, of which his lady-love was to be the prize.\n\nTwo days before the Assumption of our Lady, King Arthur reached the\ncastle, and for those two days rich feasting was held, while royal\nminstrelsy and merry-making of all kinds filled every soul with joy. But\nwhen came the morning of the Assumption all was restless bustle and\nwarlike confusion. At an early hour the heralds were commanded to blow\nto the field, and soon from every side a throng of knights was to be\nseen riding gayly to the lists, while a goodly host of spectators made\nhaste to take their seats, all eager to behold that noble\npassage-at-arms.\n\nValorous and worthy were the deeds that followed, for hosts of the best\nknights in the world had gathered in the lists, and there was wondrous\nbreaking of spears and unhorsing of knights, while many who boasted of\ntheir firm seat in the saddle went headlong to the earth.\n\nAt length there rode into the lists Sir Gareth and Sir Ironside from the\ncastle, each of whom smote to the ground the first knights that\nencountered them, and before long time had passed Gareth had with one\nspear unhorsed seven knights of renown.\n\nWhen King Agwisance of Ireland saw this new-comer fare so nobly, he\nmarvelled much who he might be, for at one time he seemed green and at\nanother blue, his color appearing to change at every course as he rode\nto and fro, so that no eye could readily follow him.\n\n\"I must try this strange turn-color knight myself,\" said Sir Agwisance,\nand he spurred his horse vigorously on Gareth.\n\nBut with a mighty stroke of his spear Gareth thrust him from his horse,\nsaddle and all. Then King Carados of Scotland rode against him, and was\nhurled to the earth, horse and man. King Uriens of Gore, King\nBagdemagus, and others who tried their fortune, were served in the same\nmanner. Then Sir Galahalt, the high prince, cried loudly,--\n\n\"Knight of the many colors, well hast thou jousted; now make ready,\nthat I may joust with thee.\"\n\nGareth heard him, and got a great spear, and quickly the two knights\nencountered, the prince breaking his spear. But Gareth smote him on the\nleft side of the helm so that he reeled in his saddle, and would have\nfallen had not his men supported him.\n\n\"Truly,\" said King Arthur, \"that knight with the many colors is a lusty\nfighter. Lancelot, do you try his mettle, before he beats all our best\nmen.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Lancelot, \"I should hold it unjust to meet him fresh after\nhis hard labors. It is not the part of a good knight to rob one of the\nhonor for which he has worked so nobly. It may be that he is best\nbeloved of the lady of all that are here, for I can see that he enforces\nhimself to do great deeds. Therefore, for me, he shall have what honor\nhe has won; though it lay in my power to put him from it, I would not.\"\n\nAnd now, in the lists, the breaking of spears was followed by drawing of\nswords; and then there began a sore tournament. There did Sir Lamorak\nmarvellous deeds of arms, and betwixt him and Sir Ironside there was a\nstrong battle, and one also between Palamides and Bleoberis. Then came\nin Lancelot, who rode against Sir Turquine and his brother Carados,\nfighting them both together.\n\nSeeing Lancelot thus hard pressed, Gareth pushed his horse between him\nand his opponents, and hurtled them asunder, but no stroke would he\nsmite Sir Lancelot, but rode briskly on, striking to right and left, so\nthat his path was marked by the knights he overturned.\n\nAfterward Gareth rode out of the press of knights to adjust his helm,\nwhich had become loosened. Here his dwarf came briskly up with drink,\nand said to him,--\n\n\"Let me hold your ring, that you lose it not while you drink.\"\n\nGareth gave it to him, and quaffed deeply of the refreshing draught, for\nhe was burning with thirst. This done, his eagerness to return to the\nfray was so great that he forgot the ring, which he left in the keeping\nof the dwarf, while he replaced his helm, mounted his horse, and rode\nbriskly back to the lists.\n\nWhen he reached the field again he was in yellow armor, and there he\nrashed off helms and pulled down knights till King Arthur marvelled more\nthan ever what knight this was, for though his color changed no more,\nthe king saw by his hair that he was the same knight.\n\n\"Go and ride about that yellow knight,\" said the king to several\nheralds, \"and see if you can learn who he is. I have asked many knights\nof his party to-day, and none of them know him.\"\n\nSo a herald rode as near Gareth as he could, and there he saw written\nabout his helm in letters of gold, \"This helm is Sir Gareth's of\nOrkney.\"\n\nThen the herald cried out as if he were mad, and many others echoed his\nwords, \"The knight in the yellow arms is Sir Gareth of Orkney, King\nLot's son!\"\n\nWhen Gareth saw that he was discovered he doubled his strokes in his\nanger, and smote down Sir Sagramore, and his brother Gawaine.\n\n\"Oh, brother!\" cried Gawaine, \"I did not deem that you would strike me.\nCan you not find food enough for your sword, without coming so near\nhome?\"\n\nOn hearing this, Gareth was troubled in soul, and with great force made\nhis way out of the press, meeting his dwarf outside.\n\n\"Faithless boy!\" he cried; \"you have beguiled me foully to-day by\nkeeping my ring. Give it to me again; I am too well known without it.\"\n\nHe took the ring, and at once he changed color again, so that all lost\nsight of him but Gawaine, who had kept his eyes fixed upon him. Leaving\nthe lists, Gareth now rode into the forest, followed at a distance by\nhis brother, who soon lost sight of him in the woodland depths.\n\nWhen Gareth saw that he had thus distanced his pursuer, he turned to the\ndwarf and asked his counsel as to what should now be done.\n\n\"Sir,\" said the dwarf, \"it seems best to me, now that you are free from\ndanger of spying, that you send my lady, Dame Lioness, her ring. It is\ntoo precious a thing to keep from her.\"\n\n\"That is well advised,\" said Gareth. \"Take it to her, and say that I\nrecommend myself to her good grace, and will come when I may; and pray\nher to be true and faithful to me, as I will be to her.\"\n\n\"It shall be done as you command,\" said the dwarf, and, receiving the\nring, he rode on his errand.\n\nThe Lady Lioness received him graciously, and listened with beaming eyes\nto Gareth's message.\n\n\"Where is my knight?\" she asked.\n\n\"He bade me say that he would not be long from you,\" answered the dwarf.\n\nThen, bearing a tender reply from the lady, the dwarf sought his master\nagain, and found him impatiently waiting, for he was weary and needed\nrepose.\n\nAs they rode forward through the forest a storm of thunder and lightning\ncame up suddenly, and it rained as if heaven and earth were coming\ntogether. On through this conflict of the elements rode the weary knight\nand the disconsolate dwarf, under the drenching leaves of the forest,\nuntil night was near at hand. And still it thundered and lightened as if\nall the spirits of the air had gone mad.\n\nAt last, through an opening in the trees, Gareth to his delight beheld\nthe towers of a castle, and heard the watchman's call upon its walls.\n\n\"Good luck follows bad, my worthy dwarf,\" he cried. \"Here is shelter;\nlet us to it.\"\n\nHe rode to the barbican of the castle and called to the porter, praying\nhim in courteous language to let him in from the storm.\n\n\"Go thy way,\" cried the porter, surlily; \"thou gettest no lodging here.\"\n\n\"Say not so, fair sir. I am a knight of King Arthur's, and pray the lord\nor lady of this castle to give me harbor for love of the king.\"\n\nThen the porter went to the duchess, and told her that a knight of King\nArthur's sought shelter.\n\n\"I will see him,\" said the duchess; \"for King Arthur's sake he shall not\ngo harborless.\"\n\nThen she went up into a tower over the gate, with great torch-light,\nthat she might behold the storm-stayed wayfarer. When Gareth saw the\nlight, he cried loudly,--\n\n\"Whether thou be lord or lady, giant or champion, I pray for harbor this\nnight. If it be that I must fight for my lodging, spare me that till\nmorning, when I have rested, for I and my horse are both weary.\"\n\n\"Sir knight,\" said the lady, \"you speak like a bold knight errant. This\nyou must know, that the lord of this castle loves not King Arthur nor\nany of his court. Therefore, it were better for you not to enter here.\nIf you come in it must be under this contract, that wherever you meet my\nlord, by road, by lane, or by street, you shall yield to him as his\nprisoner.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" asked Gareth, \"what is your lord's name?\"\n\n\"He is the Duke de la Rowse,\" she answered.\n\n\"Well, madam, it shall be as you say. I promise that wherever I meet\nyour lord I shall yield me to his good grace, with the covenant that he\nwill do me no harm. If I understand that he will, then shall I release\nmyself as best I can with sword and spear.\"\n\n\"You speak well and wisely,\" answered the duchess, and she ordered that\nthe drawbridge be lowered.\n\nGareth rode into the court-yard, where he alighted and gave his horse to\na stableman. Then he was led to the hall, where his dwarf removed his\narmor.\n\n\"Madam,\" he said, \"I shall not leave this hall to-night. When it comes\ndaylight if any one wants to fight me he will find me ready.\"\n\nSupper was now prepared, the table being garnished with many goodly\ndishes, and the duchess and other fair ladies sat by while Gareth ate,\nsome of them saying that they never saw a man of nobler carriage or\naspect. Shortly after he had supped, his bed was made in the hall, and\nthere he rested all night.\n\nIn the morning he heard mass and took his leave of the duchess and her\nlady attendants, thanking her warmly for his lodging and the good cheer\nshe had set before him. She now asked him his name.\n\n\"Madam,\" he replied, \"my name is Gareth of Orkney, though some men call\nme Beaumains.\"\n\nHearing this, she bade him adieu with great courtesy, for she now knew\nthat she had entertained the knight who had rescued Dame Lioness, and\nthe victor at the tournament.\n\nAs for Gareth, he rode onward mile after mile, till he found himself on\na mountain side, where he was confronted by a knight named Sir\nBendelaine, who demanded that he should joust or yield himself prisoner.\nGareth, angry at this demand, rode against the freebooter and smote him\nso furiously that his spear pierced his body, so that he died on\nreaching his castle.\n\nQuickly a throng of his knights and servants, furious at their lord's\ndeath, rode after the victor and assailed him fiercely. When they saw\nhow well he defended himself, they attacked his horse and killed it\nwith spear-thrusts, and then rushed in a body on the dismounted knight.\nBut they found him still more than their match, for one after another of\nthem fell beneath his sword till only four were left. These fled in\nterror to the castle, and Gareth, taking the best of their horses, rode\nleisurely on his way.\n\nMany miles farther had he gone when he found himself near a roadside\ncastle, from whose walls there came to his ears dismal lamentations in\nladies' voices. While he stood wondering at this there came by a page.\n\n\"What noise is that within the castle?\" asked Gareth.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" answered the page, \"within this castle there are thirty\nladies, all widows, for their husbands have been slain by the lord of\nthe castle, who is called the brown knight without pity, and there is no\nmore perilous knight now living. Therefore,\" continued the page, \"I bid\nyou flee.\"\n\n\"You may be afraid of him,\" said Gareth; \"but I shall not flee for\nthat.\"\n\nThen the page saw the brown knight coming.\n\n\"Lo! yonder he cometh,\" he said.\n\n\"Let me deal with him,\" said Gareth.\n\nWhen the brown knight saw a champion in the road, with spear in rest,\nawaiting him, he prepared quickly for the combat, and spurring his\nstrong war-horse, rode furiously upon Gareth, breaking his spear in the\nmiddle of his shield. But Gareth struck him a fatal blow in return, for\nhis spear went through his body, so that he fell to the ground stark\ndead.\n\nThen the victor rode into the castle, and prayed the ladies that he\nmight find repose there for the night.\n\n\"Alas!\" they cried, \"that cannot be.\"\n\n\"Give him your best cheer,\" said the page, \"for this knight has killed\nyour enemy.\"\n\nHearing this, they joyfully did their utmost to make him comfortable. In\nthe morning, when he was ready to depart, he went to mass, and there saw\nthe thirty ladies kneeling, and some of them grovelling upon the tombs,\nwith the greatest sorrow and lamentation.\n\n\"Fair ladies, you have my pity,\" he said. \"Grieve no more, I pray you;\nyour enemy is justly punished for his crimes.\"\n\nSo with few words he departed, and rode onward till fortune brought him\ninto another mountain. Not far up its slope had he gone when he saw\nbefore him a sturdy knight, who bade him stand and joust.\n\n\"Who are you?\" asked Gareth.\n\n\"I am the Duke de la Rowse.\"\n\n\"Then I lodged lately in your castle, and promised your lady that I\nshould yield unto you.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said the duke, \"are you that proud knight who proffered to fight\nwith any of my followers? Make ready, sirrah; I must have a\npassage-at-arms with you, for I would know which of us is the better\nman.\"\n\nSo they spurred together, and Gareth smote the duke from his horse. But\nin a moment he was on his feet, sword in hand, and bidding his\nantagonist to alight and continue the battle on foot. Nothing loath,\nGareth obeyed, and for more than an hour they fought, until both were\nsorely hurt. But in the end Gareth got the duke to the earth, and bade\nhim yield if he would save his life. At this the duke lost no time in\nyielding.\n\n\"Then must you go,\" said Gareth, \"unto my lord King Arthur at the next\nfeast, and say that I, Sir Gareth of Orkney, sent you.\"\n\n\"It shall be done,\" said the duke. \"And I am at your command all the\ndays of my life, with a hundred knights in my train.\"\n\nThis said, the duke departed, leaving Gareth there alone. But not long\nhad he stood when he saw another armed knight approaching. Then Gareth\ntook the duke's shield, and mounted, waiting the new-comer, who rode\nupon him without a word of greeting. And now, for the first time, Gareth\nmet his match, for the stranger knight held his seat unharmed, and\nwounded him in the side with his spear.\n\nThen they alighted and drew their swords, and for two hours they fought,\ntill the blood flowed freely from them both.\n\nAs they thus fought there came that way the damsel Linet, riding on an\nambling mule. When she saw them, she cried,--\n\n\"Sir Gawaine, Sir Gawaine, leave off fighting with thy brother Gareth.\"\n\nWhen Gawaine, for it was indeed he, heard this, he threw down his shield\nand sword and ran to Gareth, whom he took in his arms, and then kneeled\ndown and asked his mercy.\n\n\"Who are you,\" asked Gareth, \"that one minute fight me so strongly and\nyield the next?\"\n\n\"Oh, Gareth, I am your brother Gawaine.\"\n\nThen Gareth unlaced his helm, and kneeled to him and asked his mercy.\nBoth now rose and embraced each other, weeping so that it was long\nbefore they could speak. When their voices returned they entered into a\nbrotherly contest, for each insisted that the other had won the battle.\nAs they thus stood in loving converse, the damsel Linet came up to them,\nand stanched their wounds, from which the blood was flowing freely.\n\n\"What will you do now?\" she asked. \"It seems to me that my lord Arthur\nshould have news of you, for your horses are too bruised to carry you.\"\n\n\"It is well said,\" answered Gawaine. \"Will you, fair damsel, bear word\nto him?\"\n\nThen she took her mule and rode to where the king abode, he then being\nat a castle scarcely two miles distant. The tidings she brought him\ncheered his heart wonderfully, for much had the disappearance of Gareth\ntroubled him. Turning to his attendants, he ordered that a palfrey\nshould be saddled in all haste.\n\nWhen he was in the saddle he turned to the wondering lords and ladies\nand told them whither he went, bidding all who wished to greet Sir\nGareth to follow. Then was there hasty saddling and bridling of queens'\nhorses and princes' horses, and happiest were they who soonest got\nready.\n\nBut the king rode on till he came where Gawaine and Gareth sat upon a\nlittle hill-side, and here he sprang from his horse and embraced Gareth\nas though he were his own son. Quickly behind him came his sister\nMorgause, who fell into a swoon when she saw her dear young son. And the\nother knights and ladies came up in all haste, and great was the joy\nthat all felt. After congratulations had passed, and the two brothers\nbeen removed to a place where their wounds could be attended to, the\nDame Lioness was sent for, and came at the utmost speed, with her\nbrother Sir Gringamore and forty knights.\n\nAmong all the ladies there she was the fairest and peerless. And when\nGareth saw her, so loving were the looks and joyous the words between\nthem, that all who beheld it were filled with delight.\n\nEight days passed before Gareth and his brother recovered from their\nwounds. Then Arthur came to him, with Guenever, and Morgause, and others\nof high degree, and asked him if he would have the Lady Lioness for his\nwife.\n\n\"My lord, I love her above all ladies living.\"\n\n\"Now, fair lady, what say you?\" asked the king.\n\n\"Most noble king,\" replied Lioness, with blushing face, \"my lord Gareth\nis more to me than any king or prince that was ever christened. If I may\nnot have him, none will I ever have. My first love is he, and my last he\nshall be.\"\n\n\"And if I have you not as my wife,\" broke in Gareth, \"never shall lady\nliving give joy to my heart.\"\n\n\"What, nephew,\" said the king, \"is the wind in that door? Then not for\nmy crown would I sever two such loving hearts, but would much prefer to\nincrease than to distress your love.\"\n\nAnd words to the same effect said Gareth's mother.\n\nThen provision was made for a brilliant and joyous wedding, the king\nadvising that it should take place on the Michaelmas following, at\nKinkenadon by the seaside, where is a plentiful country. And so it was\ncried in all places through the realm.\n\nDame Lioness and the damsel Linet, with Sir Gringamore, now rode to\ntheir castle, where she gave Gareth a jewelled ring and received one\nfrom him, while Arthur gave her a rich bee of gold. Then Arthur and his\nfollowing rode towards Kinkenadon. Gareth soon followed, and joined\nArthur on his way.\n\nOh, the great cheer that Lancelot now made of Gareth, and Gareth of him;\nfor there was never knight that Gareth loved as he did Lancelot. But he\ncared less for his brother Gawaine, who was revengeful, and disposed to\nmurder where he hated, a feeling which the young knight abhorred.\n\nWhen Michaelmas came near, Dame Lioness with her brother and sister rode\nto Kinkenadon, where they were lodged at the expense of King Arthur, who\nhad prepared for them royally.\n\nAnd upon Michaelmas day the bishop of Canterbury performed the wedding\nceremony between Gareth and the Lady Lioness with all solemnity, and in\nthe presence of a noble and splendid gathering of the greatest lords and\nhighest ladies of England's realm.\n\nAnd here other weddings took place, for King Arthur devised that Gaheris\nshould wed the damsel Linet, and that Agravaine should wed Dame Laurel,\na fair lady, niece to the Lady Lioness.\n\n[Illustration: THE JOYOUS WEDDING.]\n\nWhen these weddings were done another solemnity took place; for there\ncame into the church the various knights whom Gareth had overcome, each\nwith his knightly followers, and with them the thirty ladies whom he had\ndelivered from the brown knight, attended by many gentlewomen. All the\nknights did homage and fealty to Gareth, and the ladies kneeled and\nprayed heartily that happiness might be his lot throughout his life.\n\nAfterwards there was high feasting, and all manner of games and revels,\nwith the richest minstrelsy, and jousts that lasted three days. But the\nking would not suffer Sir Gareth to joust because of his new bride; for\nthe Dame Lioness had desired that none who were newly married should\njoust at that feast.\n\nOn the first day Sir Lamorak won the honor of the lists, for he\noverthrew thirty knights and did marvellous feats of arms. And that day\nKing Arthur made Sir Persant of Inde and his two brothers, Knights of\nthe Round Table, and gave them great lands.\n\nOn the second day Sir Tristram jousted best, and overthrew forty\nknights. And on that day the king made Sir Ironside, the Red Knight of\nthe Red Lawns, a Knight of the Round Table, and gave him great lands.\n\nOn the third day the prize of valor fell to Sir Lancelot, who overthrew\nfifty knights and did such marvellous deeds that all men wondered at\nhim. And now King Arthur made the Duke de la Rowse a Knight of the Round\nTable, and gave him great lands to spend.\n\nThus ended the festivities at the marriage of Sir Gareth of Orkney and\nthe Lady Lioness. But Gareth and his lovely bride lived long and happily\ntogether afterwards, and much knightly renown he won, and great honor\nfrom all men.\n\n\n\n\n BOOK VI.\n\n TRISTRAM OF LYONESSE AND THE FAIR ISOLDE.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nHOW TRISTRAM WAS KNIGHTED.\n\n\nSad was the day when the renowned knight, Tristram of Lyonesse, was\nborn, for on that day his mother died, and his father lay in prison\nthrough the arts of an enchantress. Therefore he was called Tristram,\nwhich signifies one of a sorrowful birth.\n\nIt happened that when he was seven years of age his father, King\nMeliodas, of the country of Lyonesse, married again. His first wife had\nbeen Elizabeth, sister of King Mark of Cornwall. He now married the\ndaughter of King Howell of Brittany, a woman who proved of evil soul.\n\nFor after the new queen had children of her own she grew to hate the boy\nwho stood between her son and the throne of Lyonesse, and so bitter grew\nher hatred that in the end she laid a foul plot for his murder. She put\npoison in a silver cup in the chamber where the young princes were used\nto play together, with the hope that Tristram when thirsty would drink\nfrom that cup. But fate so willed that the queen's own son drank of the\npoisoned cup, when thirsty from play, and died of it.\n\nThis fatal error filled the queen with deep anguish, but it added doubly\nto her hate, and with murderous intent she again put the poisoned cup\ninto the chamber. But God protected the boy, for this time King\nMeliodas, being thirsty, saw the envenomed cup of wine, and took it up\nwith purpose to drink. Before he could do so the queen, who was near by,\nran hastily forward, snatched the deadly cup from his hand, and threw\nits contents on the floor.\n\nThis hasty act filled the king with suspicion, for the sudden death of\nhis young son had seemed to him like the work of poison. In a burst of\npassion he caught the guilty woman fiercely by the hand, drew his sword,\nand swore a mighty oath that he would kill her on the spot, unless she\ntold him what had been in the cup and why it was put there.\n\nAt this threat the queen, trembling and weeping with fright,\nacknowledged that it had been her design to kill Tristram, in order that\nher son should inherit the kingdom of Lyonesse.\n\n\"Thou false traitress and murderess!\" cried the king in redoubled\npassion. \"By my royal soul, you shall have the fate you designed for my\nson. A worse one you shall have, for you shall be burned at the stake as\na poisoner.\"\n\nThen he called a council of his barons, who confirmed this sentence on\nlearning the dark crime of the queen, and by the order of the court a\nfire of execution was prepared, and the murderess bound to the stake,\nwhile fagots were heaped about her drooping form.\n\nThe flames were already kindled, and were crawling like deadly serpents\nthrough the dry wood, but before they could reach the condemned queen\nyoung Tristram kneeled before his father and begged him a boon.\n\n\"You shall have it, my son. What would you ask?\"\n\n\"Grant me the life of the queen. I cannot bear to see her die so\nterrible a death.\"\n\n\"Ask not that,\" said the king. \"You should hate her who would have\npoisoned you. I have condemned her more for your sake than my own.\"\n\n\"Yet I beseech you to be merciful to her. I have forgiven her, and pray\nGod to do so. You granted me my boon for God's love, and I hold you to\nyour promise.\"\n\n\"If you will have it so, I cannot withdraw my word,\" said the king. \"I\ngive her to you. Go to the fire and take her, and do with her what you\nwill.\"\n\nThis gladdened the boy's heart, which had been full of horror at the\ndreadful spectacle, and he hastened to release the victim from the\nflames.\n\nBut after that Meliodas would have nothing to do with her until after\nyears had passed, when Tristram reconciled them with each other. And he\nsent his son from the court, being afraid the pardoned murderess might\ndevise some new scheme for his destruction. The noble-hearted lad was\ntherefore given as tutor a learned gentleman named Gouvernail, who took\nhim to France, that he might learn the language and be taught the use of\narms. There he remained seven years, learning not only the language,\nbut the art of minstrelsy, till he became so skilful that few could\nequal him in the use of the harp and other instruments of music. And as\nhe grew older he practised much in hunting and hawking, and in time\nbecame famous also for his skill in this noble art. He in after-life\ndevised many terms used in hunting, and bugle calls of the chase, so\nthat from him the book of venery, or of hunting and hawking, came to be\ncalled the \"Book of Sir Tristram.\"\n\nThus Tristram grew in accomplishments and nobleness till he attained the\nage of nineteen years, when he had become a youth of handsome face and\npowerful form, being large of size and vigorous of limb. The king, his\nfather, had great joy in his promise of lusty manhood, and so had the\nqueen, whose heart had been won to Tristram when he saved her from the\nflames, and who loved him ever afterwards as much as she had hated him\nin his childhood. Every one loved him, indeed, for he proved himself a\nnoble and gentle-hearted youth, loyal and kind to all he met, and with a\nheart free from evil thoughts or selfish desires.\n\nHe had learned the use of arms, and knew well how to wield the shield\nand sword, though as yet he had not sought knighthood by deeds of\nbattle; but events were preparing that would bring him soon from youth\nto manhood. For it so happened that King Anguish of Ireland sent to King\nMark of Cornwall, demanding from him tribute which he said was due, but\nhad not been paid for many years. King Mark sent word back that he owed\nand would pay no tribute; and that if the King of Ireland wished to\nprove his claim, he must send a knight who could overcome King Mark's\nchampion.\n\nKing Anguish was very angry at this answer, but accepted the challenge,\nand sent as his champion Sir Marhaus, brother to his wife, that valiant\nknight who had gone with Gawaine and Uwaine to the country of strange\nadventures, and had afterwards been made a Knight of the Round Table.\n\nMarhaus accepted the championship, and hastened to Cornwall, where he\nsent his challenge to King Mark; but the latter had taken no steps to\nprovide himself with a worthy champion. Marhaus thereupon encamped near\nthe castle of Tintagil, whither he daily sent a demand to King Mark\neither to pay the tribute or to find a knight to fight his battle.\n\nAnxious efforts were now made by the Cornish monarch to find a champion,\nsome of the barons advising him to send to King Arthur's court for\nLancelot du Lake. But others dissuaded the king from this, saying that\nneither Lancelot nor any Knight of the Round Table would fight against\ntheir fellow-knight Marhaus. Thus the King of Cornwall was sore put to\nit to find a champion fit to hold the field against such a knight as\nMarhaus.\n\nWord of this soon spread over the country and quickly reached the castle\nof Meliodas, to which young Tristram had long before returned. The heart\nof the ardent youth filled with anger when he learned that not a knight\ncould be found in all Cornwall able and willing to do battle with the\nIrish champion.\n\nIn fervent haste he sought his father, and asked him what was to be\ndone to save Cornwall from this disgrace.\n\n\"I know not,\" answered the king. \"Marhaus is one of the best knights of\nthe Round Table, and there is no knight in this country fit to cope with\nhim.\"\n\n\"I wish heartily that I were a knight,\" cried Tristram hotly. \"If I\nwere, Sir Marhaus should never depart to Ireland and boast that all\nCornwall could not furnish a knight ready to break a spear with him. I\npray you, dear father, to let me ride to King Mark's court, and beg of\nhim to make me a knight and choose me as his champion.\"\n\n\"Your spirit honors you, my son,\" said Meliodas. \"You have it in you to\nbecome an able knight, and I give you full leave to do as your courage\nprompts you.\"\n\nTristram thanked his father warmly for this assent, and, taking horse,\nrode without delay to the castle of his uncle King Mark. When he reached\nthere he found the king depressed in spirit and the whole court deep in\ngloom, for it seemed as if no champion could be found, and that the\ntribute must be paid. Tristram went at once to his uncle and said with\nmodest ardor,--\n\n\"Sir, it is a shame and disgrace that Cornwall has no champion. I am but\nan untried youth, yet, if you will give me the order of knighthood, I\nstand ready to do battle for you with Sir Marhaus.\"\n\n\"Who are you, and whence come you?\" asked the king.\n\n\"I come from King Meliodas, who wedded your sister, and I am a gentleman\nborn.\"\n\nHope came into the king's eyes when he saw how large and strongly built\nwas his youthful visitor, and marked the spirit of battle in his eyes,\nbut he again demanded his name and place of birth.\n\n\"My name is Tristram and I was born in the country of Lyonesse,\"\nanswered the youth.\n\n\"You speak with spirit, and look like the making of a good warrior,\"\nsaid the king. \"If you agree to do this battle, I will grant you\nknighthood.\"\n\n\"It is that, and that alone, brings me here,\" answered Tristram.\n\nThen the king knighted him, and at once sent word to Sir Marhaus that he\nhad a champion ready to do battle with him to the uttermost.\n\n\"That may well be,\" answered Marhaus, \"but I fight not with every\nspringal. Tell King Mark that I shall fight with none but one of royal\nblood. His champion must be son either of a king or a queen.\"\n\nThis answer King Mark gave to Tristram, and said, gloomily,--\n\n\"I fear this rules out your championship.\"\n\n\"Not so,\" said Tristram. \"I came not here to boast, but if I must tell\nmy lineage, you may let him know that I am of as noble blood as he. My\nfather is King Meliodas, and my mother was Elizabeth, your own sister. I\nam the heir of Lyonesse.\"\n\n\"Is it so?\" cried the king, clasping the youth's hands gladly. \"Then I\nbid you warmly welcome, my fair nephew, and I could ask no better nor\nnobler champion.\"\n\nHe sent word in all haste to Marhaus that a better born man than himself\nshould fight with him, the son of King Meliodas, and his own nephew.\nAnd while he waited an answer he took care to find for his nephew the\nbest horse and the finest suit of armor that gold could procure. By the\ntime he was thus provided word came back from Marhaus that he would be\nglad and blithe to fight with a gentleman of such noble birth. And he\nrequested that the combat should take place in an island near which lay\nhis ships. This being accepted, Tristram was sent thither in a vessel,\nwith his horse and armor, but attended only by his tutor Gouvernail,\nwhom he now made his squire.\n\nOn reaching the island Tristram saw on the further shore six ships, but\nhe saw no knight. Then he bade Gouvernail to bring his horse ashore and\narm him. This done, he mounted and took his shield, and then said,--\n\n\"Where is this knight with whom I have to fight? I see him not.\"\n\n\"Yonder he hovers,\" answered Gouvernail, \"under the shadow of the ships.\nHe waits you on horseback, and fully armed.\"\n\n\"True enough. I see him now. All is well. Do you take the vessel and go\nback to my uncle Mark, and tell him that if I be slain it will not be\nthrough cowardice, and pray him, if I die in fair fight, to see that I\nbe interred honorably; but if I should prove recreant then he shall give\nme no Christian burial. And come you not near the island, on your life,\ntill you see me overcome or slain, or till I give you the signal of\nvictory.\"\n\nThen Gouvernail departed, weeping, for his young master had spoken so\nresolutely that he dared not disobey. Tristram now rode boldly towards\nSir Marhaus, who came forward to meet him. Much courteous conversation\npassed between the two knights, Tristram at the end saying,--\n\n\"I trust, Sir Marhaus, to win honor and renown from you, and to deliver\nCornwall from tribute forever, and to this end I shall do my best in all\nvalor and honor.\"\n\n\"Fair sir,\" answered Marhaus, \"your spirit pleases me; but as for\ngaining honor from me, you will lose none if you keep back three strokes\nbeyond my reach, for King Arthur made me not Knight of the Round Table\nexcept for good cause.\"\n\n\"That may well be,\" answered Tristram; \"but if I show the white feather\nin my first battle may I never bear arms again.\"\n\nThen they put their spears in rest and rode so furiously together that\nboth were hurled to the earth, horse and man alike. But Tristram had the\nill fortune to receive a severe wound in the side from the spear of his\nadversary.\n\nHeedless of this, he drew his sword and met Marhaus boldly and bravely.\nThen they began a fierce and desperate fight, striking and foining,\nrushing together in furious onset, and drawing back in cautious heed,\nwhile the ring of sword on armor was like that of hammer on anvil. Hours\npassed in the fight, and the blood flowed freely from the wounds which\neach had received, yet still they stood boldly up to the combat. But\nTristram proved a stronger and better-winded man than Marhaus, and was\nstill fresh when his enemy was growing weary and faint. At the end he\nthrew all his strength into his right arm, and smote Marhaus so mighty\na blow on the helm that it cut down through the steel covering and deep\ninto his head, the sword sticking so fast that Tristram could hardly\npull it out.\n\nWhen he did so the edge of the sword was left in the skull, and the\nwounded knight fell heavily on his knees. But in a minute he rose and,\nflinging his sword and shield away, fled hastily to his ships.\n\n\"Why do you withdraw, Knight of the Round Table?\" cried Tristram. \"I am\nbut a young knight, but before I would fly from an adversary I would\nabide to be cut into a thousand pieces.\"\n\nMarhaus answered only with deep groans of pain and distress.\n\n\"Go thy way then, sir knight,\" said Tristram. \"I promise you your sword\nand shield shall be mine, and I will wear your shield in the sight of\nKing Arthur and all the Round Table, to let them see that Cornwall is\nnot a land of cowards.\"\n\nWhile he stood thus, hot with anger, the sails of the ships were spread,\nand the fleet sailed away, leaving the victor alone on the island. He\nwas deeply wounded and had bled profusely, and when he grew cold from\nrest could hardly move his limbs. So he seated himself upon a little\nhillock, while his wounds still bled freely. But Gouvernail, who had\nkept within sight in the vessel, and had seen the end of the combat, now\nhastened gladly to the island, where he bound up the young knight's\nwounds, and then brought him to the main land. Here King Mark and his\nbarons came in procession to meet him, their hearts full of joy and\ntriumph, and the victor was borne in glad procession to the castle of\nTintagil. When King Mark saw his deep and perilous wounds he wept\nheartily, and cried,--\n\n\"God help me, I would not for all my lands that my nephew should die!\"\n\nBut Tristram lay in groaning pain for more than a month, ever in danger\nof death from the spear-wound he had received from Sir Marhaus. For the\nspear-head was poisoned, and no leech in the land, with his most healing\nremedy, could overcome the deadly effect of that venom. The king sent\nfar and wide for skilled doctors, but none could be found whose skill\nwas of any avail. At length there came a learned woman to the court, who\ntold them plainly that the wounded man could never be cured except in\nthe country from which the venom came. He might be helped there, but\nnowhere else.\n\nWhen King Mark heard this he had a good vessel prepared, in which\nTristram was placed, under charge of Gouvernail, and so set sail for\nIreland, though all were strictly warned not to tell who they were or\nwhence they came.\n\nLong before this the fleet of Marhaus had arrived on the Irish coast,\nand the wounded knight been borne to the king's court, where all was\ndone that could be to save his life, but in vain.\n\nHe died soon of his deep wound, and when his head was examined by the\nsurgeons they found therein a piece of Tristram's sword, which had sunk\ndeep into his skull. This piece the queen, his sister, kept, for she was\nfull of revengeful thoughts, and she hoped by its aid to find the man to\nwhom he owed his death.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nLA BELLE ISOLDE.\n\n\nWhen Tristram arrived in Ireland, chance so provided that he landed near\na castle in which the king and queen, with all their court, then were.\nHe had brought his harp with him, and on his arrival sat up in his bed\nand played a merry lay, which gave joy to all that heard it.\n\nWord was quickly brought to the king that a harper of wonderful skill\nhad reached his shores, and he at once sent to have him brought to the\ncastle, where he asked him his name and whence he came.\n\n\"My name,\" replied the wounded knight, \"is Tramtrist; I am of the\ncountry of Lyonesse, and the wound from which I suffer was received in a\nbattle I fought for a lady who had been wronged.\"\n\n\"You shall have all the help here we can give you,\" said King Anguish.\n\"I have just met with a sad loss myself, for the best knight in my\nkingdom has been slain.\"\n\nThen he told Tristram of the battle with King Mark's champion, little\ndreaming that the knight to whom he spoke knew far more about it than he\ndid himself.\n\n\"As for your wound,\" said the king, \"my daughter, La Belle Isolde, is a\nleech of wonderful skill, and as you seem so worthy a man I shall put\nyou under her care.\"\n\nThis said, he departed, and sent his daughter to the knight; but no\nsooner did Tristram behold her than he received a deeper wound from love\nthan he had yet had from sword or spear. For La Belle Isolde was the\nmost beautiful lady in the world, a maiden of such wondrous charm and\ngrace that no land held her equal.\n\nWhen she examined the young knight's wound she quickly saw that he was\nsuffering from poison, but it was a venom with which she knew well how\nto deal, and she was not long in healing his deep hurt. In return for\nthis great service, he taught her the art of harping, while the love he\nfelt for her soon left some reflection of its warm presence in her soul.\n\nBut she already had a lover in the court, a worthy and valiant Saracen\nknight named Palamides, who sought her day after day, and made her many\ngifts, for his love for her was deep. He was well esteemed by the king\nand queen, and had declared his willingness to be made a Christian for\nthe sake of La Belle Isolde. In consequence there soon arose hot blood\nbetween Tristram and Palamides, for each feared that the other was a\nfavored rival.\n\nAnd now it happened that King Anguish announced a tournament to be held\nin honor of a cousin of his called the Lady of the Lawns, it being\ndeclared that the grand prize of the tournament should be the hand of\nthe lady and the lordship of her lands. The report of this tournament\nspread through England, Wales, and Scotland, reaching even to Brittany,\nand France, and many knights came to try their fortune in the lists.\n\n[Illustration: SIR TRISTRAM HARPING TO ISOLDE.]\n\nWhen the day drew near the fair Isolde told Tristram of the tournament,\nand expressed a warm desire that he would take part in it.\n\n\"Fair lady,\" he answered, \"I am as yet but feeble, and only for your\ngenerous care might be dead. I should be glad to obey any wish of yours,\nbut you know that I am not in condition for the lists.\"\n\n\"Ah, Tramtrist,\" she replied, \"I trust that you may be able to take part\nin this friendly joust. Palamides will be there, and I hoped that you\nwould meet him, for I fear that otherwise he will not find his equal.\"\n\n\"You do me great honor,\" he replied. \"You forget that I am but a young\nknight, and that in the only battle I have fought I was wounded nearly\nunto death. But for the love I have for you I shall attend the\ntournament, and jeopard my poor person for your sake, if you will only\nkeep my counsel and let no person know that I have entered the lists.\"\n\n\"That shall I,\" she replied, gladly. \"Horse and armor shall be ready for\nyou, and I but ask you to do your best. I am sure your best must win.\"\n\n\"With Isolde's eyes upon me I can do no less,\" answered Tristram, with a\nglad heart. \"I am at your command in all things, and for your love would\ndare tenfold this risk.\"\n\nWhen the day of the tournament came, Palamides appeared in the lists\nwith a black shield, and so many knights fell before him that all the\npeople marvelled at his prowess. Throughout the first day's fight he\nheld his own against all comers, bearing off the honors of the lists.\nAs for Tristram, he sat among the spectators, and when King Anguish\nasked him why he did not joust, replied that he was still too weak from\nhis wound.\n\nOn the morning of the next day Palamides came early into the field, and\nbegan the same career of conquest as on the day before. But in the midst\nof his good fortune there rode into the lists an unknown knight, who\nseemed to the spectators like an angel, for his horse and his armor were\nof the whiteness of snow.\n\nNo sooner had Palamides espied this stranger than he put his spear in\nrest and rode against him at furious speed. But there came a sudden\nchange in his fortunes, for the white knight struck him with such force\nas to hurl him from his horse to the ground.\n\nThen there arose a great noise and uproar among the people, for they had\ngrown to think that no knight could face the Saracen, and Gawaine and\nothers whom he had overthrown marvelled who this stranger knight could\nbe. But Isolde was glad at heart, for the love of Palamides was a burden\nto her, and well she knew the knight of the white arms.\n\nAs for the Palamides, he was so ashamed and disconcerted by his fall\nthat, on mounting his horse again, he sought privately to withdraw from\nthe field. But the white knight rode hastily after him and bade him\nturn, saying that he should not leave the lists so lightly. At these\nwords Palamides turned and struck a fierce sword-blow at the white\nchampion. But the latter put the stroke aside, and returned it with so\nmighty a buffet on the Saracen's head that he fell from his horse to the\nearth.\n\nThen Tristram--for he was the white knight--bade him yield and consent\nto do his command, or he would slay him. To this Palamides agreed, for\nhe was hurt past defence.\n\n\"This, then, is my command,\" said Tristram. \"First, upon pain of your\nlife, you shall cease your suit of the lady La Belle Isolde, and come\nnot near her. Second, for a year and a day you shall wear no armor or\nweapons of war. Promise me this, or you shall die.\"\n\n\"This is a bitter penance,\" cried Palamides. \"You shame me before the\nworld. For nothing less than life would I consent.\"\n\nBut he took the oath as Tristram commanded, and then in anger and\ndespite threw off his armor and cut it into pieces, flinging the\nfragments away. Then he departed, weighed down with sadness and shame.\n\nThis done, Tristram left the lists, where he could find no knight\nwilling to fight with him, and rode to the private postern of the castle\nwhence he had come to the field. Here he found the fair Isolde awaiting\nhim with a joyous face and a voice of thanks, praising him so highly\nthat the knight was abashed with modest shame, though gladness filled\nhis heart. And when she had told the king and queen that it was\nTramtrist who had vanquished the Saracen, they treated him as if he had\nbeen of royal blood, for he had shown such prowess as Lancelot himself\ncould not exceed.\n\nAfter this Tristram dwelt long in the castle, highly esteemed by the\nking and queen, and loved by La Belle Isolde, whose heart he had fully\nwon by his prowess in the tournament. Those were days of joy and\ngladness, too soon, alas to end, for he loved her with all his soul, and\nsaw his heaven in her eyes, while for all his love she gave him the warm\ndevotion of a true heart in return.\n\nBut fate at length brought this dream of happiness to an end. For on a\nday when Tristram was in the bath, attended by his squire Gouvernail,\nchance brought the queen and Isolde into the chamber of the knight. On\nthe bed lay his sword, and this the queen picked up and held it out for\nIsolde's admiration, as the blade which had done such noble work in the\ntournament.\n\nBut as she held it so she saw that there was a gap in the edge, a piece\nbeing broken out about a foot from the point. At sight of this she let\nthe weapon fall, while her heart gave a great bound of pain and anger.\n\n\"Liar and traitor, have I found you at last!\" she cried, in an outbreak\nof rage. \"It is this false villain that slew my brother Marhaus!\"\n\nWith these words she ran in haste from the chamber, leaving Isolde\ntrembling with dread for her lover, for though she knew not the cause of\nthe queen's rage, she knew well how cruel she could be in her passion.\n\nQuickly the queen returned, bringing with her the fragment of steel that\nhad been found in Marhaus's skull, and, snatching up the sword, she\nfitted this into the broken place. It fitted so closely that the blade\nseemed whole. Then with a cry of passionate rage the furious woman ran\nto where Tristram was in the bath, and would have run him through had\nnot Gouvernail caught her in his arms and wrested the sword from her\nhand.\n\nFailing in this deadly intent, she tore herself from the squire's grasp\nand flew to the king, throwing herself on her knees before him and\ncrying,--\n\n\"Oh, my lord and husband! you have here in your house that murderous\nwretch who killed my brother, the noble Sir Marhaus!\"\n\n\"Ha! can that be?\" said the king. \"Where is he?\"\n\n\"It is Tramtrist,\" she replied. \"It is that villanous knight whom our\ndaughter healed, and who has shamefully abused our hospitality.\" And she\ntold him by what strange chance she had made this discovery.\n\n\"Alas!\" said the king, \"what you tell me grieves me to the heart. I\nnever saw a nobler knight than he, and I would give my crown not to have\nlearned this. I charge you to leave him to me. I will deal with him as\nhonor and justice demand.\"\n\nThen the king sought Tristram in his chamber, and found him there fully\narmed and ready to mount his horse.\n\n\"So, Tramtrist, you are ready for the field,\" he said. \"I tell you this,\nthat it will not avail you to match your strength against my power. But\nI honor you for your nobility and prowess, and it would shame me to slay\nmy guest in my court; therefore, I will let you depart in safety, on\ncondition that you tell me your name and that of your father, and if it\nwas truly you that slew my brother, Sir Marhaus.\"\n\n\"Truly it was so,\" said Tristram. \"But what I did was done in honor and\njustice, as you well know. He came as a champion and defied all the\nknights of Cornwall to battle, and I fought him for the honor of\nCornwall. It was my first battle, for I was made a knight that very day.\nAnd no man living can say that I struck him foully.\"\n\n\"I doubt me not that you acted in all knightly honor,\" answered the\nking. \"But you cannot stay in my country against the ill-will of my\nbarons, my wife, and her kindred.\"\n\n\"As for who I am,\" continued the knight, \"my father is King Meliodas of\nLyonesse, and my uncle King Mark of Cornwall. My name is Tristram; but\nwhen I was sent to your country to be cured of my wound I called myself\nTramtrist, for I feared your anger. I thank you deeply for the kind\nwelcome you have given me, and the goodness my lady, your daughter, has\nshown me. It may happen that you will win more by my life than by my\ndeath, for in England I may yet do you some knightly service. This I\npromise you, as I am a true knight, that in all places I shall hold\nmyself the servant and knight of my lady, your daughter, and shall never\nfail to do in her honor and service all that a knight may. Also I\nbeseech you that I may take leave of your barons and knights, and pray\nyou to grant me leave to bid adieu to your daughter.\"\n\n\"I cannot well refuse you this,\" said the king.\n\nWith this permission, Tristram sought La Belle Isolde, and sadly bade\nher farewell, telling her who he was, why he had changed his name, and\nfor what purpose he had come to Ireland.\n\n\"Had it not been for your care and skill I should now have been dead,\"\nhe said.\n\n\"Gentle sir,\" she sadly replied, \"I am woeful indeed that you should go,\nfor I never saw man to whom I felt such good-will as to you.\"\n\nAnd she wept bitterly as she held out her hand in adieu. But Tristram\ntook her in his arms and kissed away her tears.\n\n\"I love you, Isolde, as my soul,\" he said. \"If this despite of fate\nshall stand between you and me, this I promise, to be your knight while\nlife is left to me.\"\n\n\"And this I promise,\" answered Isolde, \"that if I am married within\nthese seven years it shall only be by your assent! If they stand between\nme and my love, at least they shall not force me to wed against your\nwill.\"\n\nThen she gave Tristram a ring and received one from him in return, and\nhe departed from her with a pain as if the parting wrenched their hearts\nasunder, while she beheld him go with such tears and lamentation that it\nseemed as if her faithful heart would break.\n\nTristram next sought the great hall of the court, where were assembled\nthe barons of King Anguish, and took his leave of them all, saying,--\n\n\"Fair lords, fortune wills that I must leave you. If there be any man\nhere whom I have offended or aggrieved let him make complaint now, and I\nshall amend the wrong so far as it is in my power. If there be any who\nmay incline to say a wrongful thing of me behind my back, let him speak\nnow, and I will make it good with him, body against body.\"\n\nBut no man spoke in reply. There were knights there of the blood of Sir\nMarhaus and the queen, but none that cared to have to do in the field\nagainst Sir Tristram.\n\nSo bidding them all adieu, he departed, and took ship for Tintagil, in\nCornwall.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTHE WAGER OF BATTLE.\n\n\nWhen tidings came to King Mark that Tristram had returned to Cornwall,\ncured of his wounds, the king and all his barons were glad, and on the\narrival of the knight he was treated with the greatest honor. No long\ntime passed before he rode to the castle of his father, King Meliodas,\nwho received him with fatherly love and pride, while the queen greeted\nhim with the warmest joy. And that their knightly son should have\nwherewithal to make a fair show in the world, they parted with much of\ntheir lands and wealth to him, endowing him with broad estates and\nlordly castles.\n\n[Illustration: A CASTLE OF CORNWALL.]\n\nAfterwards, at his father's desire, who wished his son to gain all\nhonor, Tristram returned to the court of Cornwall, where he was gladly\nwelcomed. And here, though his love for La Belle Isolde lay deep in his\nheart, it was dimmed by later feelings, for there were many fair ladies\nat the court, and the young knight was at that age when the heart is\nsoft and tender.\n\nIn the end it happened that a jealousy and unfriendliness arose between\nKing Mark and him. This grew with time, and in the end the king, who was\nbase and treacherous of soul, waylaid Tristram, aided by two knights of\nhis counsel, and sought to slay him. But so valiantly did he defend\nhimself that he hurled the three to the earth, wounding the king so\ndeeply that he was long in recovering.\n\nThe king now grew to hate his young guest bitterly, and laid plans to\ndestroy him. Finally, it occurred to him to send Tristram to Ireland for\nLa Belle Isolde, whose beauty and goodness the young knight had praised\nso warmly that King Mark had it in his heart to wed her. But his main\npurpose in sending Tristram to Ireland was to compass his destruction,\nfor he knew how he was hated there.\n\nTristram was not blind to the danger into which this mission might bring\nhim, and suspected the purpose of the king, but his love of adventure\nwas so great that for it he was ready to dare any risk.\n\nAs for Isolde, absence and affection for other ladies had dimmed his\npassion for her, so that for the time his love was forgotten, and he\ncame to look upon it as a youthful episode not knowing how deeply it\nstill lay under all these later feelings. He, therefore, accepted the\nmission, and made ready to go in royal state.\n\nHe selected for his companions a number of the ablest knights of the\ncourt, and saw that they were richly arrayed and appointed, with the\nhope that such a noble train might win him favor at the Irish court.\nWith this array he departed, and set sail for the coast of Ireland.\n\nBut when they had reached the mid-channel a tempest arose that blew the\nfleet back towards the coast of England, and, as chance had it, they\ncame ashore near Camelot. Here they were forced to land, for their ships\nwere no longer seaworthy. Tristram, therefore, set up his pavilion upon\nthe coast of Camelot, and hung his shield before it.\n\nThat same day two knights of Arthur's court, Sir Morganor and Sir Hector\nde Maris, chanced to ride that way, and, seeing the shield, they touched\nit with their spears, bidding the knight of the pavilion to come out and\njoust, if he had an inclination to do so.\n\n\"I hold myself ready alike for sport or battle,\" answered Tristram. \"If\nyou tarry a little while, you will find me ready to meet you.\"\n\nThis said, he armed himself, and mounting his horse rode against his two\nchallengers with such fortune that he first smote Sir Hector to the\nearth, and then Sir Morganor, felling them both with one spear. Rising\npainfully to their feet, the disconcerted knights asked Tristram who he\nwas and of what country.\n\n\"My noble sirs, I am a knight of Cornwall,\" he answered. \"You have been\nin the habit of scorning the warriors of my country, but you see we have\nsome good blood there.\"\n\n\"A Cornish knight!\" cried Hector. \"That I should be overcome by a knight\nfrom that land! I am not fit to wear armor more.\" And in despite he put\noff his armor and left the place on foot, too full of shame to ride.\n\nAs it turned out, fortune had worked more favorably for Tristram than he\nsupposed. For King Anguish was then on his way to Camelot, whither he\nhad been summoned by King Arthur as his vassal, for a purpose which he\nwas not told.\n\nIt happened that when he reached Camelot neither King Arthur nor\nLancelot was there to give judgment on the charge against him, but the\nkings of Carados and of Scotland were left as judges. And when King\nAnguish demanded why he had been summoned, Blamor de Ganis, a Knight of\nthe Round Table, accused him of treason, declaring that he had\ntreacherously slain a cousin of his at his court in Ireland.\n\nThis accusation threw King Anguish into great trouble, for he did not\ndream that he had been brought for such a purpose, and knew well that\nthere was but one answer to make to such a charge. For the custom in\nthose days was that any man who was accused of murder or treason should\ndecide the case by the Wager of Battle, fighting his accuser to the\ndeath, or finding a knight who would take up his quarrel. And murders of\nall kinds in those days were called treason.\n\nKing Anguish was thrown into a sorrowful frame of mind, for he knew that\nBlamor de Ganis was a knight of prowess beyond his own strength, nor had\nhe a suitable champion in his train. He therefore withheld his answer,\nand the judges gave him three days for his decision.\n\nAll this was told to Tristram by his squire Gouvernail, who had heard it\nfrom people of the country.\n\n\"Truly,\" said Tristram, \"no man in England could bring me better\ntidings, for the king of Ireland will be glad of my aid, since no knight\nof this country not of Arthur's court will dare fight with Blamor. As I\nwish to win the good will of King Anguish, I will take on myself his\nbattle. So, Gouvernail, go to the king for me, and tell him there is a\nchampion ready to assume his cause.\"\n\nGouvernail thereupon went to Camelot, and greeted King Anguish, who\nreturned his greeting and asked his errand.\n\n\"There is a knight near at hand who desires to speak with you,\" was the\nreply. \"He bade me say that he was ready to do you knightly service.\"\n\n\"What knight may he be?\" asked the king.\n\n\"Sir, it is Tristram of Lyonesse. For the grace you showed him in your\ncountry he is ready to repay you here, and to take the field as your\nchampion.\"\n\n\"God be praised for this welcome news!\" cried the king. \"Come, good\nfellow, show me the way to Sir Tristram. Blamor will find he has no boy\nto handle.\"\n\nHe mounted a hackney, and with few followers rode under Gouvernail's\nguidance till they came to Tristram's pavilion. The knight, when he saw\nhis visitor, ran to him and would have held his stirrup, but this the\nking would not permit. He leaped lightly from his horse and took\nTristram warmly in his arms.\n\n\"My gracious lord,\" said Tristram, \"I have not forgot the goodness which\nyou formerly showed me, and which at that time I promised to requite by\nknightly service if it should ever be in my power.\"\n\n\"I have great need of you, indeed, gentle sir,\" answered the king.\n\"Never before was I in such deep necessity of knightly aid.\"\n\n\"How so, my noble lord?\" asked Tristram.\n\n\"I shall tell you. I am held answerable for the death of a knight who\nwas akin to Lancelot, and for which I must fight his relative, Blamor de\nGanis, or find a knight in my stead. And well you know the knights of\nKing Ban's blood are hard men to overcome in battle.\"\n\n\"That may be,\" said Tristram, \"yet I dread not to meet them. For the\nhonor which you showed me in Ireland, and for the sake of your gracious\ndaughter La Belle Isolde, I will take the battle on two conditions:\nfirst, that you swear that you are in the right, and had no hand in the\nknight's death; second, that if I win in this fight you grant me the\nreward I may ask, if you deem it reasonable.\"\n\n\"Truly, I am innocent, and you shall have whatever you ask,\" said the\nking.\n\n\"Then I accept the combat,\" said Tristram. \"You may return to Camelot\nand make answer that your champion is ready, for I shall die in your\nquarrel rather than be recreant. Blamor is said to be a hardy knight,\nbut I would meet him were he the best warrior that now bears shield and\nspear.\"\n\nKing Anguish then departed and told the judges that he had his champion\nready, and was prepared for the wager of battle at any time that pleased\nthem. In consequence, Blamor and Tristram were sent for to hear the\ncharge. But when the knights of the court learned that the champion was\nhe who had vanquished Marhaus and Palamides, there was much debate and\nshaking of the head, and many who had felt sure of the issue now grew\nfull of doubt, the more so when they learned the story of Hector de\nMaris and his companion.\n\nBut the combatants took their charge in all due dignity, and then\nwithdrew to make ready for the battle. Blamor was attended by his\nbrother Sir Bleoberis, who said to him, feelingly,--\n\n\"Remember, dear brother, of what kin we are, being cousins to Lancelot\ndu Lake, and that there has never been a man of our blood but would\nrather die than be shamed in battle.\"\n\n\"Have no doubt of me,\" answered Blamor. \"I know well this knight's\nrecord; but if he should strike me down through his great might, he\nshall slay me before I will yield as recreant.\"\n\n\"You will find him the strongest knight you have ever had to do with. I\nknow that well, for I had once a bout with him at King Mark's court. So\nGod speed you!\"\n\n\"In God and my cause I trust,\" answered Blamor.\n\nThen he took his horse and rode to one end of the lists, and Tristram to\nthe other, where, putting their spears in rest, they spurred their\ngallant steeds and rushed together with the speed of lightning. The\nresult was that Blamor and his horse together were hurled to the earth,\nwhile Tristram kept his seat. Then Blamor drew his sword and threw his\nshield before him, bidding Tristram to alight.\n\n\"Though a horse has failed me,\" he said, \"I trust that the earth will\nstand me in good stead.\"\n\nWithout hesitation Tristram consented, springing to the ground, sword in\nhand, and the combatants broke at once into fierce battle, fighting like\nmadmen, till all who saw them marvelled at their courage and strength.\nNever had knights been seen to fight more fiercely, for Blamor was so\nfurious and incessant in his attacks, and Tristram so active in his\ndefence, that it was a wonder they had breath to stand. But at last\nTristram smote his antagonist such a blow on the helm that he fell upon\nhis side, while his victor stood looking grimly down upon him.\n\nWhen Blamor could gain breath to speak, he said,--\n\n\"Sir Tristram de Lyonesse, I require thee, as thou art a true knight, to\nslay me, for I would not live in shame, though I might be lord of the\nearth. You must slay me, indeed, if you would win the field, for I shall\nnever speak the hateful word of surrender.\"\n\nWhen Tristram heard this knightly defiance he knew not what to do. The\nthought of slaying one of Lancelot's blood hurt him sorely, but his duty\nas a champion required him to force his antagonist to yield, or else to\nslay him. In deep distress of mind he went to the kingly judges and\nkneeled before them, beseeching them for the sake of King Arthur and\nLancelot, and for their own credit, to take this matter out of his\nhands.\n\n\"It were a pity and shame that the noble knight who lies yonder should\nbe slain,\" he said, \"yet he refuses to yield. As for the king I fight\nfor, I shall require him, as I am his true knight and champion, to have\nmercy on the vanquished.\"\n\n\"That yield I freely,\" said King Anguish. \"And I heartily pray the\njudges to deal with him mercifully.\"\n\nThen the judges called Bleoberis to them and asked his advice.\n\n\"My lords,\" he replied, \"my brother is beaten, I acknowledge, yet,\nthough Sir Tristram has vanquished his body, he has not conquered his\nheart, and I thank God he is not shamed by his defeat. And rather than\nhe should be shamed I require you to bid Tristram to slay him.\"\n\n\"That shall not be,\" replied the judges. \"Both his adversaries, the king\nand his champion, have pity on him, and you should have no less.\"\n\n\"I leave his fate to you,\" said Bleoberis. \"Do what seems to you well.\"\n\nThen, after further consultation, the judges gave their verdict that the\nvanquished knight should live, and by their advice Tristram and\nBleoberis took him up and brought him to King Anguish, who forgave and\nmade friends with him. Then Blamor and Tristram kissed each other and\nthe two brothers took oath that neither of them would ever fight with\ntheir noble antagonist, who took the same oath. And from the day of\nthat battle there was peace and love between Tristram and all the\nkindred of Lancelot forever.\n\nThe happy close of this contest made great rejoicing in Arthur's court,\nKing Anguish and his champion being treated with all the honor that\ncould be laid upon them, and for many days thereafter feasting and\nmerry-making prevailed. In the end the king and his champion sailed for\nIreland with great state and ceremony, while many noble knights attended\nto bid them farewell.\n\nWhen they reached Ireland, King Anguish spread far and wide the story of\nwhat Tristram had done for him, and he was everywhere greeted with honor\nand delight. Even the queen forgot her anger, and did all that lay in\nher power to give her lord's champion a glad welcome to the court.\n\nAs for La Belle Isolde, she met Tristram with the greatest joy and\ngladness. Absence had dimmed the love in both their hearts, and it no\nlonger burned as of yore, yet only time and opportunity were needed to\nmake it as warm as ever.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE DRAUGHT OF LOVE.\n\n\nAt length there came a day, after Tristram had dwelt long at King\nAnguish's court, that the king asked him why he had not demanded his\nboon, since the royal word had been passed that whatever he asked\nshould be his without fail.\n\n\"I asked you not,\" said Tristram, \"since it is a boon that will give me\nno pleasure, but so much pain that with every day that passes I grow\nless inclined to ask it.\"\n\n\"Then why ask it at all?\"\n\n\"That I must, for I have passed my word of honor, and the word of a\nknight is his best possession. What I am forced to demand, then, is that\nyou will give me the hand of La Belle Isolde,--not for myself, and that\nis what makes my heart so sore, but for my uncle, King Mark, who desires\nto wed her, and for whom I have promised to demand her.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" cried the king, \"that you should ask me so despiteful a boon. I\nhad rather than all King Mark's dominions that you should wed her\nyourself.\"\n\n\"I never saw woman whom I would rather wed,\" he replied. \"But if I\nshould do so I would be the shame of the world forever, as a false\nknight, recreant to his promise. Therefore, I must stand by my word, and\nhold you to your boon, that you will give me La Belle Isolde to go with\nme to Cornwall, there to be wedded to King Mark, my uncle.\"\n\n\"As for that, I cannot deny you. She shall go with you, but as to what\nmay happen thereafter, I leave that for you to decide. If you choose to\nwed her yourself, that will give me the greatest joy. But if you\ndetermine to give her to King Mark, the right rests with you. I have\npassed my word, though I wish now that I had not.\"\n\nThen Isolde was told of what had passed, and bade to make ready to go\nwith Tristram, a lady named Bragwaine going with her as chief\ngentlewoman, while many others were selected as her attendants. When the\npreparations were fully made, the queen, Isolde's mother, gave to Dame\nBragwaine and Gouvernail a golden flask containing a drink, and charged\nthem that on the day of Isolde's wedding they should give King Mark that\ndrink, bidding him to quaff it to the health of La Belle Isolde, and her\nto quaff his health in return.\n\n\"It is a love draught,\" continued the queen, \"and if they shall drink it\nI undertake to say that each shall love the other for all the days of\ntheir life.\"\n\nNot many days passed before Tristram took to the sea, with the fair\nmaiden who had been committed to his charge, and they sailed away on a\nmission that had for them both far more of sadness than of joy, for\ntheir love grew as the miles passed.\n\nOne day, as they sat together in the cabin, it happened that they became\nthirsty, and by chance they saw on a shelf near them a little golden\nflask, filled with what by the color seemed to be a noble wine. Tristram\ntook it down and said, with a laugh,--\n\n\"Madam Isolde, here is the best drink that ever you drank, a precious\ndraught which Dame Bragwaine, your maiden, and Gouvernail, my servant,\nare keeping for themselves. Let us drink from their private store.\"\n\nThen with laughter and merriment they drank freely from the flask, and\nboth thought that they had never tasted draught so sweet and delicious\nin their lives before. But when the magic wine got into their blood,\nthey looked upon each other with new eyes, for their hearts were\nsuddenly filled with such passionate love as they had not dreamed that\nheart could feel. Tristram thought that never had mortal eyes gazed upon\na maiden of such heavenly charms, and Isolde that there was never man\nborn so grand and graceful as the knight of her love.\n\nThen all at once she fell into bitter weeping as the thought of her\ndestiny came upon her, and Tristram took her in his arms and kissed her\nsweet lips again and again, speaking words of love that brought some\ncomfort to her love-sick heart. And thus it was between them day by day\nto the end of their voyage, for a love had grown between them of such\nfervent depth that it could never leave them while blood flowed in their\nveins.\n\nSuch magic power had the draught which the queen had prepared for King\nMark, and which the unthinking lovers drank in fate's strange error. It\nwas the bitter-sweet of love; for it was destined to bring them the\ndeepest joy and sorrow in the years to come.\n\nMany days passed before the lovers reached Cornwall, and strange\nadventures met them by the way, of which we have but little space to\nspeak. For chance brought them to land near a castle named Pleure, or\nthe weeping castle. It was the custom of the lord of that castle, when\nany knight passed by with a lady, to take them prisoners. Then, when the\nknight's lady was compared with the lady of the castle, whichever was\nthe least lovely of the two was put to death, and the knight was made to\nfight with the lord of the castle for the other, and was put to death if\nvanquished. Through this cruel custom many a noble knight and fair lady\nhad been slain, for the castle lord was of great prowess and his lady of\nstriking beauty.\n\nIt chanced that Tristram and Isolde demanded shelter at this castle, and\nthat they were made prisoners under its cruel custom. At this outrage\nTristram grew bitterly indignant, and demanded passionately what it\nmeant, as honor demanded that those who sought harbor should be received\nhospitably as guests, and not despitefully as prisoners. In answer he\nwas told the custom of the castle, and that he must fight for his lady\nand his liberty.\n\n\"It is a foul and shameful custom,\" he replied. \"I do not fear that your\nlord's lady will surpass mine in beauty, nor that I cannot hold my own\nin the field, but I like to have a voice in my own doings. Tell him,\nhowever, if he is so hot for battle, that I shall be ready for the test\nto-morrow morning, and may heaven be on the side of truth and justice.\"\n\nWhen morning came the test of beauty was made, and the loveliness of\nIsolde shone so far beyond that of the castle lady that Breunor, the\nlord, was forced to admit it. And now Tristram grew stern and pitiless,\nfor he said that this lady had consented to the death of many innocent\nrivals, and richly deserved death as a punishment for the ruthless deeds\ndone in her behalf, and to gratify her cruel vanity. Thereupon her head\nwas struck off without mercy.\n\nFull of anger at this, Breunor attacked Tristram with all his strength\nand fury, and a long and fiery combat took place, yet in the end he fell\ndead beneath the sword of the knight of Cornwall.\n\nBut, as it happened, the castle lord had a valiant son, named Sir\nGalahad the high prince, a knight who in after years was to do deeds of\ngreat emprise. Word was brought to him of the death of his father and\nmother, and he rode in all haste to the castle, having with him that\nrenowned warrior known as the king with the hundred knights.\n\nReaching the castle, Galahad fiercely challenged Tristram to battle, and\na mighty combat ensued. But at the last Galahad was forced to give way\nbefore the deadly strokes of his antagonist, whose strength seemed to\ngrow with his labor.\n\nWhen the king with the hundred knights saw this, he rushed upon Tristram\nwith many of his followers, attacking him in such force as no single\nknight could hope to endure.\n\n\"This is no knightly deed,\" cried Tristram to Galahad. \"I deemed you a\nnoble knight, but it is a shameful act to let all your men set on me at\nonce.\"\n\n\"However that be,\" said Galahad, \"you have done me a great wrong, and\nmust yield or die.\"\n\n\"Then I must yield, since you treat me so unfairly. I accepted your\nchallenge, not that of all your followers. To yield thus puts me to no\ndishonor.\"\n\nAnd he took his sword by the point and put the pommel in the hand of his\nopponent. But despite this action the king and his knights came on, and\nmade a second attack on the unarmed warrior.\n\n\"Let him be,\" cried Sir Galahad. \"I have given him his life, and no man\nshall harm him.\"\n\n\"Shame is it in you to say so!\" cried the king. \"Has he not slain your\nfather and mother?\"\n\n\"For that I cannot blame him greatly. My father held him in prison, and\nforced him to fight to the death. The custom was a wicked and cruel one,\nand could have but one end. Long ago, it drove me from my father's\ncastle, for I could not favor it by any presence.\"\n\n\"It was a sinful custom, truly,\" said the king.\n\n\"So I deem it, and it would be a pity that this brave knight should die\nin such a cause, for I know no one save Lancelot du Lake who is his\nequal. Now, fair knight, will you tell me your name?\"\n\n\"My name is Tristram of Lyonesse, and I am on my way to the court of\nKing Mark of Cornwall, taking to him La Belle Isolde, the daughter of\nKing Anguish of Ireland, whom he desires to wed.\"\n\n\"Then you are welcome to these marches, and all that I demand of you is\nthat you promise to go to Lancelot du Lake, and become his fellow. I\nshall promise that no such custom shall ever be used in this castle\nagain.\"\n\n\"You will do well,\" said Tristram. \"I would have you know that when I\nbegan to fight with you I fancied you were Lancelot. And I promise, as\nsoon as I may, to seek him, for of all the knights in the world I most\ndesire his fellowship.\"\n\n[Illustration: TRISTRAM AND THE FAIR ISOLDE.]\n\nSoon afterwards Tristram and his fair companion resumed their journey,\nand in due time reached Cornwall. But as they came near Tintagil their\nhearts were ready to break, for that magic draught was still in their\nveins, and they loved each other with a love that was past all telling.\n\nThoughts came into Tristram's heart to marry the maiden in despite of\ncustom and his plighted word, and gladly would she have consented\nthereto. But strong as was his love, his honor was stronger, and Isolde,\ndeeply as she grieved, could not ask him to break his word. And thus for\nmany long miles they journeyed onward side by side in silence, their\neyes alone speaking, but they telling a story of love and grief to which\nthey dared not give words, lest their hearts' desire should burst all\nboundaries of faith and honor, and men's condemnation come to them both.\n\nSo they came with drooping hearts to the court of King Mark, where the\nking and his barons received them with state and ceremony. Quickly\nthereafter the wedding took place, for the king looked with eyes of warm\napproval upon the beautiful maiden, and prepared richly and nobly for\nthe ceremony, at which many noble knights and lords were present, but\nfrom which Tristram withdrew in the deepest anguish, as he could not\nendure the sight. And so his knightly word was kept, though to keep it\nalmost broke his heart.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE PERILS OF TRUE LOVE.\n\n\nThe marriage of King Mark with La Belle Isolde was celebrated with rich\nfeasts and royal tournaments, and for many days pleasure ruled supreme\nat Tintagil Castle, whither noble guests came and went. Among those who\ncame was Palamides the Saracen, drawn thither by his love of Isolde,\nwhich his overthrow by Tristram had not banished from his heart.\n\nStrange events soon followed. Two ladies of Isolde's train, who envied\nand hated Dame Bragwaine, laid a plot for her destruction. She was sent\ninto the forest to obtain herbs, and there was met by men sent by her\nenemies, who bound her hand and foot to a tree, where she remained for\nthree days. By good fortune, at the end of that time, she was found by\nPalamides, who saved her from death, and took her to a nunnery that she\nmight recover from her pain and exhaustion.\n\nThe disappearance of Dame Bragwaine troubled the queen greatly, for she\nloved her most of all women, and as the days went by and she returned\nnot, the grief of Isolde grew deep. She wandered into the forest, which\nhad been searched in vain for the lost lady, and, plunged in sad\nthought, seated herself by a woodland spring, where she moaned bitterly\nfor her favorite.\n\nAs she sat there Palamides appeared, and, after listening awhile to her\nsad complaining, said,--\n\n\"Queen Isolde, I know well the cause of your grief, and if you will\ngrant the boon I shall ask, I promise to bring you Dame Bragwaine, safe\nand sound.\"\n\nThe queen was so glad to hear this, that without thought she agreed to\ngrant his wish, thinking more of the lost lady than of what he might\ndemand.\n\n\"I trust to your promise,\" said Palamides. \"Remain here half an hour and\nyou shall see her.\"\n\n\"I shall remain,\" said the queen.\n\nPalamides then rode away, and within the time mentioned returned with\nthe maiden, whom Isolde clasped to her heart with happy tears.\n\n\"Now, madam, I have kept my word,\" said Palamides; \"you must keep\nyours.\"\n\n\"I promised you hastily,\" answered the queen; \"and I warn you now that I\nwill grant you nothing evil; so beware of your asking.\"\n\n\"My boon will keep till I meet you before the king,\" said Palamides.\n\"What it is I shall not tell you now.\"\n\nThen the queen rode home with her maiden, and Palamides followed close\nafter, entering the court while Isolde was telling the king of what had\nhappened.\n\n\"Sir king,\" said the knight, \"your lady has told you of the boon she\nproffered me. The honor of knighthood requires that you shall make her\nword good.\"\n\n\"Why made you this promise, my lady?\" asked the king.\n\n\"I did so for grief at the loss of Dame Bragwaine, and for joy to\nrecover her.\"\n\n\"Then what you have hastily proffered you must truly perform. The word\nof king and queen is not to be lightly spoken or lightly broken.\"\n\n\"What I demand is this,\" said Palamides, \"that you deliver to me your\nqueen, to lead her where I wish and govern her as I will.\"\n\nAt this bold request the king frowned deeply, and anger leaped to his\nlips. But his word had been passed, and the thought came to him that he\ncould trust to Tristram quickly to rescue the queen, and punish this\nbold adventurer.\n\n\"Take her if you will,\" he cried. \"But I tell you this, you will not\nkeep her long, and that you are asking a dangerous gift.\"\n\n\"As for that, I shall dare the risk.\"\n\nThen he took Isolde by the hand, and led her from the court, and from\nthe presence of the king and his barons, not one of whom moved, though\nthe queen looked round with suppliant eyes. Leading her to his\nwar-horse, he set her behind him on the saddle, and rode proudly away.\n\nNo sooner had they gone than the king sent for Tristram, but by despite\nhe was nowhere to be found, for he was in the forest hunting, as was\nalways his custom when not engaged in feats of arms.\n\n\"What shall be done?\" cried the king. \"Can no one find Tristram? My\nhonor will be shamed if the Saracen be not met and overcome.\"\n\n\"I shall follow him, and seek to rescue the queen,\" said a knight named\nLambegus, one of Tristram's followers.\n\n\"I thank you, Sir Lambegus. If I live, I will remember the service.\"\n\nSo Lambegus got to horse and followed Palamides hotly, but to his own\nsorrow, as it proved, for he was no match for the Saracen, who soon laid\nhim upon the earth wounded nearly to death.\n\nBut while the battle went on, Isolde, who had been set upon the earth\npending the combat, ran into the forest, and continued to fly till she\ncame to a deep spring, where in her grief she sought to drown herself.\nBut good fortune brought thither a knight named Sir Adtherp, who had a\ncastle near by. Seeing the despair of the queen, he led her to his\ncastle, and then, learning her story, took upon himself her battle, and\nrode forth to meet the Saracen.\n\nBut he, too, fared badly, for Palamides wounded him severely, and made\nhim tell what he had done with the queen, and where his castle might be\nfound.\n\nPalamides, leaving him bleeding on the ground, rode in all haste to the\ncastle. But as he approached, Isolde saw him from a window, and gave\norders that the gate should be shut and the drawbridge raised. When\nPalamides came up and saw that the castle was closed against him, and\nentrance denied, he took the saddle and bridle from his horse and put\nhim to pasture, while he seated himself before the gate like a man who\ncared not what became of him.\n\nMeanwhile, Tristram had returned from the hunt, and when he learned what\nhad happened, he was half beside himself with anger.\n\n\"Lambegus is no match for the Saracen,\" he said. \"Would I had been here\nin his stead. The unchristianed villain shall answer for this outrage if\nhe can be found.\"\n\nThen he armed himself in all haste, and rode into the forest. Not far\nhad he gone when he found Lambegus, sorely wounded, and had him borne to\na place of shelter. Somewhat farther on he found Adtherp, also hurt and\nbleeding, and from him he learned what had taken place.\n\n\"Where is my lady now?\" he asked.\n\n\"Safe in my castle,\" said the knight. \"And there she can hold herself\nsecure against the Saracen.\"\n\n\"Then I owe you much,\" said Tristram. \"Trust me to see that some of your\nmen be sent to your aid.\"\n\nHe continued his journey till he came to the castle, and here he saw\nPalamides sitting by the gate fast asleep, with his horse grazing beside\nhim.\n\n\"The misbegotten rogue takes life easy,\" said Tristram. \"Go rouse him,\nGouvernail. Bid him make ready to answer for his outrage.\"\n\nBut he was in such deep slumber that Gouvernail called to him in vain.\nHe returned and told Tristram that the knight was either asleep or mad.\n\n\"Go again and tell him that I, his mortal foe, am here.\"\n\nGouvernail now prodded him with the butt of his spear, and cried,--\n\n\"Arise, Sir Palamides, and make ready, for yonder is Sir Tristram, and\nhe sends you word that he is your mortal foe.\"\n\nThen Palamides rose without a word of answer, and saddled and bridled\nhis horse, upon which he sprang, putting his spear in rest. But he\nremained not long in his saddle, for when they met in mid career,\nTristram smote him so hard a blow as to thrust him over his horse's tail\nto the ground.\n\nThen they drew their swords and fought with all their strength, for the\nlady whom they both loved looked upon them from the walls, and well-nigh\nswooned for grief and distress on seeing how sorely each was hurt.\n\n\"Alas!\" she cried, \"one of them I love, and the other loves me. It would\nbe a great pity to see Sir Palamides slain, much as he has troubled me,\nand slain he will be if this fight goes on.\"\n\nThen, moved by her tender heart, she went down and besought Tristram to\nfight no more.\n\n\"What mean you?\" he asked. \"Would you have me shamed?\"\n\n\"I desire not your dishonor; but for my sake I would have you spare this\nunhappy knight, whose love for me has made him mad.\"\n\n\"As you wish,\" he replied. \"The fight shall end, since you desire it.\"\n\n\"As for you, Sir Palamides,\" she said, \"I command that you shall go out\nof this country while I am in it.\"\n\n\"If it must be, it must,\" he answered, in bitter anguish; \"but it is\nsorely against my will, for not to see you is not to live.\"\n\n\"Take your way to the court of King Arthur,\" she said, \"and there\nrecommend me to Queen Guenever. Tell her that Isolde says that in all\nthe land there are but four lovers, and that these are Lancelot du Lake\nand Queen Guenever, and Tristram de Lyonesse and Queen Isolde.\"\n\nThis message filled Palamides with the greatest heaviness of heart, and\nmounting his steed he rode away moaning bitterly. But Isolde was full of\ngladness in being well rid of her troublesome lover, and Tristram in\nhaving rescued her from his rival. So he brought her back to King Mark,\nand there was great joy over her home-coming, while the king and all the\ncourt showered honors on the successful champion. Sir Lambegus was\nbrought back to the court and put under the care of skilful leeches, and\nfor a long time joy and good-will reigned.\n\nBut Tristram had in King Mark's court a bitter foe, who sought to work\nhim injury, though he was his near cousin. This traitor, Sir Andred by\nname, knew well of the love between Tristram and Isolde, and that they\nhad secret meetings and tender conversations, so he lay in wait to spy\nupon them and slander them before the court.\n\nA day came at length when Andred observed Tristram in secret parley with\nIsolde at a window, and he hastened to the king and poisoned his mind\nwith a false report of what he had seen. King Mark, on hearing this,\nburst into a fury of passion, and seizing a sword, ran to where Tristram\nstood. Here he violently berated him as a traitor, and struck at him a\nfurious blow.\n\nBut Tristram took the sword-point under his arm, and ran in on the king,\nwresting the weapon from his hand.\n\n\"Where are my knights and men?\" cried the enraged king. \"I charge you to\nkill this traitor!\"\n\nBut of those present not a man would move. When Tristram saw this, he\nshook the sword threateningly against the king, and took a step forward\nas if he would have slain him. At this movement King Mark fled, while\nTristram followed, and struck him so strong a blow with the flat of the\nsword on his neck that he was flung prostrate on his nose. Then Tristram\nhastened to his room and armed himself, after which he took his horse\nand his squire and rode into the forest.\n\nHere the valorous champion killed some of the knights whom the king had\nsent against him and put to flight thirty more, so that King Mark in\nfear and fury called a council of his lords, and asked what was to be\ndone with his rebellious subject.\n\n\"Our counsel is,\" said the barons, \"that you send for Sir Tristram and\nmake friends with him, for you well know that if you push him hard many\nof your men will join him. He is peerless and matchless among Christian\nknights except Sir Lancelot, and if you drive him to seek King Arthur's\ncourt he will find such friends there that he may defy your power.\nTherefore we counsel you to beg him to return to the court, under\nassurance of safety.\"\n\n\"You may send for him, then,\" said the king, though his heart burned\nwith secret fury. The barons now sent for Tristram under a safe-conduct,\nand he returned to the court, where he was welcomed by the king, and all\nthat had passed seemed to be forgotten.\n\nShortly after this the king and queen went hunting, accompanied by\nTristram and many knights and gentlemen of the court. Entering the\nforest, they set up their pavilions and tents beside a river, where they\nhunted and jousted daily, for King Mark had with him thirty knights who\nstood ready to meet all comers.\n\nFortune brought thither two knights-errant, one being Lamorak de Galis,\nwho of all knights was counted next to Lancelot and Tristram. The other\nwas Sir Driant, both being Knights of the Round Table.\n\nDriant jousted first with the Cornish knights, and, after unhorsing some\nof them, got a stunning fall. Then Lamorak offered to meet them, and of\nthe thirty knights not one kept his seat before him, while some were\nsorely hurt.\n\n\"What knight is this who fights so well?\" asked the king.\n\n\"Sir,\" said Tristram, \"it is Lamorak de Galis, one of the best knights\nwho ever put spear in rest.\"\n\n\"Then, Sir Tristram, you must meet him. It were a shame to us all to let\nhim go away victor.\"\n\n\"It were a greater shame to overthrow a noble knight when he and his\nhorse are worn out with over-labor.\"\n\n\"He shall not leave here and boast of how he vanquished King Mark's\nknights. I charge you, as you love me and my lady La Belle Isolde, to\ntake your arms and joust with this Lamorak.\"\n\n\"You charge me to do what is against knighthood, for it is no honor for\na fresh man and horse to master spent and weary ones. Since you command\nit I must do it, but it is sorely against my will.\"\n\nThen he armed himself and took his horse, and in the joust easily\noverthrew Lamorak and his weary steed. The knight lightly sprang from\nthe falling charger and drew his sword, boldly challenging Tristram to\nmeet him on foot. But this Tristram would by no means do, though Lamorak\nhotly renewed the challenge.\n\n\"You are great of heart, Sir Lamorak,\" said Tristram, \"but no knight nor\nhorse was ever made that could forever endure. Therefore I will not meet\nyou, and I am sorry for having jousted with you.\"\n\n\"You have done me an evil turn,\" said Lamorak, angrily, \"for which I\nshall repay you when an opportunity comes.\"\n\nLamorak soon got his revenge. For as he rode with Sir Driant towards\nCamelot he met by the way a boy who had been sent by Morgan le Fay to\nKing Arthur. For the false enchantress still held to her hatred against\nher noble brother, and by all means sought his harm. So by magic art she\nhad made a drinking-horn of such strange virtue that if any lady drank\nof it who had been false to her husband all the wine would be spilled,\nbut if she had been true to him, she might drink in peace and safety.\n\nThis horn she sent to Arthur's court, hoping that Guenever might drink\nthereof and be dishonored, for her love for Lancelot was known to all\nbut the king.\n\nLamorak, learning from the boy his errand, bade him bear the horn to\nKing Mark's court, and tell the king that it was sent to prove the\nfalseness of his lady, who loved Sir Tristram more than she did her\nwedded lord.\n\nSoon afterwards, therefore, the boy appeared at Tintagil Castle, and\npresented King Mark the magic horn, telling him of its virtues, and all\nthat Sir Lamorak had bidden him say.\n\n\"By my royal faith we shall try it, then!\" said the king. \"Not only my\nqueen, but all the ladies of the court, shall drink of it, and we shall\nlearn who among them has other lovers than their liege lords.\"\n\nMuch to their unwillingness, Queen Isolde and a hundred ladies of the\ncourt were made to drink from the magic horn, and of them all only four\ndrank without spilling the wine.\n\n\"Now, by my knightly honor, all these false dames shall be burnt!\" cried\nthe king. \"My court shall be purged of this vile stain.\"\n\n\"That shall they not,\" cried the barons. \"We shall never consent that\nthe queen and all these ladies shall be destroyed for a horn wrought by\nsorcery, and sent here to make mischief by as foul a sorceress and witch\nas the earth holds. She has always been an enemy to all true lovers and\nsought to do them harm, and if we meet with Morgan le Fay she will get\nbut scant courtesy at our hands. We would much rather believe the horn\nfalse than all our ladies untrue.\"\n\nBut Tristram's anger was turned towards Lamorak for this affront, for he\nknew well what had been his purpose. And he vowed in his heart that he\nwould yet repay him for this treacherous act.\n\nHis affection for Queen Isolde kept as warm as though the love-draught\nstill flowed in his veins, and he sought her at every opportunity, for\nthe two greatest joys that life held for him were to tell her of his\nlove and hear from her lips that her love for him had never dimmed.\n\nBut his treacherous cousin Andred watched his every movement, and kept\nthe king advised that Tristram continued his secret interviews with the\nqueen. So an ambush of twelve knights was set, and one day, when\nTristram had just paid a stolen visit to the queen, and sat in loving\nconverse by her side, these ambushed knights broke suddenly upon him,\ntook him prisoner, and bound him hand and foot.\n\nThen, by order of the king, he was borne to a chapel that stood on a\nrocky height above the sea, where Andred and some others of the barons\nwho were his enemies came together to pass judgment upon him.\n\nTristram in all his life had never stood in such peril, for his hands\nwere bound fast to two knights, and forty others surrounded him, every\none a foe. Care had been taken to get rid of his friends among the\nbarons by sending them away from the court on various pretexts. Like a\nlion surrounded by jackals he chafed in his bonds, while his great heart\nswelled as if it would break. No escape seemed possible, but with a\nreproachful voice he said,--\n\n\"Fair lords, I have in my time done something for Cornwall, and taken\nupon myself great peril for your benefit. Who among you all was ready to\nmeet Sir Marhaus, or to cope with Palamides? Is this shameful death my\nreward for my services to your country? You know well that I never met a\nknight but that I was his match or his better.\"\n\n\"Boast not, false traitor,\" cried Andred. \"For all thy vaunting, thou\nshalt die this day.\"\n\n\"O Andred, Andred, that you my kinsman should treat me thus!\" said\nTristram sorrowfully. \"You can be bold when I am bound, but if there\nwere none here but you and me, you would crouch like a cur at my feet.\"\n\n\"Would I so?\" cried Andred, angrily. \"You shall see what I would do.\"\n\nAnd as he spoke he drew his sword, and advanced upon his cousin with\nintent to slay him on the spot. But Tristram, when he saw him coming\nwith murderous looks, suddenly drew inwards with all his strength the\ntwo knights to whom he was bound, and with a mighty wrench broke the\nstrong cords asunder. Then with the leap of a tiger he sprang upon his\ntreacherous cousin, wrested the sword from his hand, and smote him a\nblow that hurled him insensible to the earth. This done, he rushed with\nthe fury of a madman on his enemies, striking mighty blows to right and\nleft, till in a few minutes ten of them lay dead and wounded on the\nearth.\n\nBut seeing that they were pressing on him in too great force, he\nretreated into the chapel, in whose door-way he stood, sword in hand,\nholding it against all their assaults.\n\nSoon, however, the cry went forth that the prisoner had escaped, and had\nfelled Andred and killed many of the barons, and others of his foes\nhastened up, till more than a hundred beleaguered him in the chapel.\n\nTristram now looked despairingly on his unarmed form, and saw that many\nof his assailants wore armor of proof. Death was sure unless he could\nfind some means of escape. He knew that the chapel stood on the brow of\nthe cliff, and here seemed his only hope of safety, though it was a\nperilous one. Quickly retreating, he shut and barred the door, and then\nwith hand and sword wrenched and tore the iron bars from a window over\nthe cliff, out of which he desperately leaped.\n\nThe descent was a deep one, but he fortunately reached the sea below\nwithout striking any of the rocks in his descent. Here he drew himself\ninto a crevice at the foot of the cliff.\n\nThose above rushed to the rocky edge and looked down into the boiling\nwaters far below, but they saw nothing of the daring knight, and after a\nlong and vain effort to see him, went away to report to the king that\nhis enemy was drowned.\n\nBut while King Mark and Tristram's enemies were congratulating one\nanother upon this, there came to the top of the cliff, Gouvernail,\nLambegus, and others of Tristram's men, who, looking down, saw him\ncreeping up from the water to a safer place of shelter among the rocks.\nHailing him, they bade him to be of good heart, and, letting down a rope\nwhich they quickly procured, they managed to draw him up to the summit,\nwhere they congratulated him warmly on his escape. Without delay,\nhowever, he left that spot, for fear of his foes returning, and sought a\nplace of shelter in the forest.\n\n[Illustration: THE CLIFFS ABOVE THE SEA.]\n\nHere he abode for some time, but the news of his escape got abroad, to\nthe discomfiture of his foes. And on a day when he had fallen asleep, a\nman to whom he had done some injury crept up and shot him in the\nshoulder with an arrow. Tristram sprang up and killed the man, but the\nwound pained him day by day. And on news of it being brought to La Belle\nIsolde she sent him word by Dame Bragwaine that the arrow had been\npoisoned, and with a venom that no leech in England could cure. \"My\nlady, La Belle Isolde, bids you haste into Brittany to King Howell,\"\nsaid Dame Bragwaine, \"for she knows no one who can help you but his\ndaughter, Isolde la Blanche Mains.\"\n\nHearing this, the wounded knight sent a sad farewell to his lady love,\nand took ship with Gouvernail his squire, and sailed to Brittany, where\nhe was warmly welcomed by King Howell.\n\nAnd when Isolde of the white hands heard of the errand of the knight,\nshe applied to his wound healing herbs of such virtue that in a little\nwhile he was whole again.\n\nAfterwards Tristram dwelt long in Brittany, and helped King Howell much\nin his wars.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nTHE MADNESS OF SIR TRISTRAM.\n\n\nOf the visit of Sir Tristram to Brittany, and the healing of his wound,\nwith the great deeds he did there, and how he overthrew the giant knight\nNabon le Noire, we shall not further speak. Letters at length came to\nhim from La Belle Isolde, in which she spoke pitifully of tales that had\nbeen brought her, saying that he had been false to her, and had married\nIsolde the White Handed, daughter of King Howell of Brittany.\n\nOn receiving these letters, Tristram set out in all haste for Cornwall,\nbringing with him Kehydius, King Howell's son. On his way there he had\nmany adventures, and rescued King Arthur from an enchantress, who had\nbrought him near to death in the forest perilous. When at length he came\nto Cornwall he sought the castle of Dinas the seneschal, his warmest\nfriend, and sent him to tell Queen Isolde that he had secretly returned.\n\nAt this longed-for news the queen swooned from pure joy. When she\nrecovered and was able to speak, she said, in pitiful accents,--\n\n\"Gentle seneschal, I pray you bring him where I may speak with him, or\nmy heart will break.\"\n\n\"Trust me for that,\" answered Dinas.\n\nThen he and Dame Bragwaine brought Tristram and Kehydius privately to\nthe court, and to a chamber which Isolde had assigned for them. But to\ntell the joy of the meeting between Tristram and La Belle Isolde we\nshall not endeavor, for no tongue could tell it, nor heart think it, nor\npen write it.\n\nYet misfortune still pursued these true lovers, and this time it came\nfrom friends instead of foes, for the presence of Kehydius in the castle\nled to the most doleful and melancholy misfortune which the world ever\nknew. For, as the chronicles make mention, no sooner had Kehydius seen\nLa Belle Isolde, than he became so enamoured of her that his heart might\nnever more be free. And at last, as we are told, he died from pure love\nof this beautiful queen, but with that we are not here concerned. But\nprivately he wrote her letters which were full of moving tales of his\nlove, and composed love poems to her which no minstrel of those days\nmight surpass.\n\nAll these he managed to put into the queen's hands privately, and at\nlength, when she saw how deeply he was enamoured, she was moved by such\npity for his hopeless love that, out of the pure kindness of her heart,\nshe unwisely wrote him a letter, seeking to comfort him in his distress.\n\nSad was it that pity should bring such sorrow and pain to two loving\nhearts as came from that fatal letter. For on a day when King Mark sat\nplaying chess at a chamber window, it chanced that La Belle Isolde and\nKehydius were in the chamber above, where they awaited the coming of\nTristram from the turret-room in which he was secretly accommodated. But\nas ill luck would have it, there fell into Tristram's hands the last\nletter which Kehydius had written to the queen, and her answer, which\nwas so worded that it seemed as if she returned his love.\n\nThese the young lover had carelessly left in Tristram's chamber, where\nhe found them and thoughtlessly began reading them. But not far had he\nread when his heart sank deep in woe, and then leaped high in anger. He\nhurried in all haste to the chamber where Isolde and Kehydius were, the\nletters in his hand.\n\n\"Isolde,\" he cried, pitifully, \"what mean these letters,--this which\nKehydius has written you, and this, your answer, with its vile tale of\nlove? Alas! is this my repayment for the love I have lavished on you,\nthat you thus treacherously desert me for the viper that I have brought\nhither?--As for you, Kehydius, you have foully repaid my trust in you\nand all my services. But bear you well in mind that I shall be amply\nrevenged for your falsehood and treason.\"\n\nThen he drew his sword with such a fierce and threatening countenance\nthat Isolde swooned out of pure fear; and Kehydius, when he saw him\nadvancing with murder in his face, saw but one chance for life, and\nleaped out of a bay window immediately over that where King Mark sat\nplaying at chess.\n\nWhen the king saw the body of a man hurtling down over his head, so\nclose that he almost touched him as he sat at the window, he sprang up\nin alarm and cried,--\n\n\"What the foul fiend is this? Who are you, fellow? and where in the wide\nworld have you come from?\"\n\nKehydius, who had fallen on his feet, answered the king with ready wit.\n\n\"My lord, the king,\" he said, \"blame me not, for I fell in my sleep. I\nwas seated in the window above you, and slumbered there, and you see\nwhat has come of it.\"\n\n\"The next time you are sleepy, good fellow, hunt a safer couch,\" laughed\nthe king, and turned again to his chess.\n\nBut Tristram was sure that his presence in the castle would now be known\nto the king, and hastened to arm himself with such armor as he could\nfind, in dread of an assault in force. But as no one came against him,\nhe sent Gouvernail for his horse and spear, and rode in knightly guise\nopenly from the gates of Tintagil.\n\nAt the gate it chanced that he met with Gingalin, the son of Gawaine,\nwho had just arrived; and the young knight, being full of ardor, and\nhaving a fancy to tilt with a Cornish warrior, put his spear in rest and\nrode against Tristram, breaking his spear on him.\n\nTristram had yet no spear, but he drew his sword and put all his grief\nand anger into the blow he gave the bold young knight. So hard he struck\nthat Gingalin was flung from his saddle, and the sword, slipping down,\ncut through the horse's neck, leaving the knight with a headless\ncharger.\n\nThen Tristram rode on until he disappeared in the forest. All this was\nseen by King Mark, who sent a squire to the hurt knight and asked him\nwho he was. When he knew it was Sir Gingalin, he welcomed him, and\nproffered him another horse, asking what knight it was he had\nencountered.\n\n\"That I know not,\" said Gingalin, \"but he has a mighty wrist, whoever he\nis. And he sighed and moaned as if some great disaster had happened him.\nI shall beware of weeping knights hereafter, if they all strike like\nthis.\"\n\nAs Tristram rode on he met Sir Fergus, one of his own knights, but by\nthis time his grief and pain of heart had grown so bitter that he fell\nfrom his horse in a swoon, and lay thus for three days and nights.\n\nWhen at length he came to himself, he sent Fergus, who had remained\nwith him, to the court, to bring him what tidings he might learn. As\nFergus rode forward he met a damsel whom Palamides had sent to inquire\nabout Sir Tristram. Fergus told her how he had met him, and that he was\nalmost out of his mind.\n\n\"Where shall I find him?\" asked the damsel.\n\n\"In such a place,\" explained Fergus, and rode on to the court, where he\nlearned that Queen Isolde was sick in bed, moaning pitifully, though no\none knew the source of her pain.\n\nThe damsel meanwhile sought Tristram, whom she found in such grief as\nshe had never before seen, and the more she tried to console him the\nmore he moaned and bewailed. At the last he took his horse and rode\ndeeply into the forest, as if he would be away from all human company.\n\nThe damsel now sought him diligently, but it was three days before she\ncould find him, in a miserable woodland hut. Here she brought him meat\nand drink, but he would eat nothing, and seemed as if he wished to\nstarve himself.\n\nA few days afterwards he fled from her again, and on this occasion it\nchanced that he rode by the castle before which he and Palamides had\nfought for La Belle Isolde. Here the damsel found him again, moaning\ndismally, and quite beside himself with grief. In despair what to do,\nshe went to the lady of the castle and told her of the misfortune of the\nknight.\n\n\"It grieves me to learn this,\" said the lady. \"Where is he?\"\n\n\"Here, near by your castle.\"\n\n\"I am glad he is so near. He shall have meat and drink of the best, and\na harp which I have of his, and on which he taught me to play. For in\nharping he has no peer in the world.\"\n\nSo they took him meat and drink, but had much ado to get him to eat. And\nduring the night his madness so increased that he drove his horse from\nhim, and unlaced his armor and threw it wildly away. For days afterwards\nhe roamed like a wild man about the wilderness; now in a mad frenzy\nbreaking boughs from the trees, and even tearing young trees up by the\nroots, and now for hours playing on the harp which the lady had given\nhim, while tears flowed in rivulets from his eyes.\n\nSometimes, again, when the lady knew not where he was, she would sit\ndown in the wood and play upon the harp, which he had left hanging on a\nbough. Then Tristram would come like a tamed fawn and listen to her,\nhiding in the bushes; and in the end would come out and take the harp\nfrom her hand and play on it himself, in mournful strains that brought\nthe tears to her eyes.\n\nThus for a quarter of a year the demented lover roamed the forest near\nthe castle. But at length he wandered deeper into the wilderness, and\nthe lady knew not whither he had gone. Finally, his clothes torn into\ntatters by the thorns, and he fallen away till he was lean as a hound,\nhe fell into the fellowship of herdsmen and shepherds, who gave him\ndaily a share of their food, and made him do servile tasks. And when he\ndid any deed not to their liking they would beat him with rods. In the\nend, as they looked upon him as witless, they clipped his hair and\nbeard, and made him look like a fool.\n\nTo such a vile extremity had love, jealousy, and despair brought the\nbrave knight Tristram de Lyonesse, that from being the fellow of lords\nand nobles he became the butt of churls and cowherds. About this time it\nhappened that Dagonet, the fool and merry-maker of King Arthur, rode\ninto Cornwall with two squires, and chance brought them to a well in the\nforest which was much haunted by the demented knight. The weather was\nhot, and they alighted and stooped to drink at the well, while their\nhorses ran loose. As they bent over the well in their thirst, Tristram\nsuddenly appeared, and, moved by a mad freak, he seized Dagonet and\nsoused him headforemost in the well, and the two squires after him. The\ndripping victims crawled miserably from the water, amid the mocking\nlaughter of the shepherds, while Tristram ran after the stray horses.\nThese being brought, he forced the fool and the squires to mount, soaked\nas they were, and ride away.\n\nBut after Tristram had departed, Dagonet and the squires returned, and\naccusing the shepherds of having set that madman on to assail them, they\nrode upon the keepers of beasts and beat them shrewdly. Tristram, as it\nchanced, was not so far off but that he saw this ill-treatment of those\nwho had fed him, and he ran back, pulled Dagonet from the saddle, and\ngave him a stunning fall to the earth. Then he wrested the sword from\nhis hand and with it smote off the head of one of the squires, while the\nother fled in terror. Tristram followed him, brandishing the sword\nwildly, and leaping like a madman as he rushed into the forest.\n\nWhen Dagonet had recovered from his swoon, he rode to King Mark's court,\nand there told what had happened to him in the wildwood.\n\n\"Let all beware,\" he said, \"how they come near that forest well. For it\nis haunted by a naked madman, and that fool soused me, King Arthur's\nfool, and had nearly slain me.\"\n\n\"That must be Sir Matto le Breune,\" said King Mark, \"who lost his wit\nbecause Sir Gaheris robbed him of his lady.\"\n\nMeanwhile, Kehydius had been ordered out of Cornwall by Queen Isolde,\nwho blamed him for all that had happened, and with a dolorous heart he\nobeyed. By chance he met Palamides, to whom the damsel had reported the\nsad condition of the insane knight, and for days they sought him\ntogether, but in vain.\n\nBut at Tintagil a foul scheme was laid by Andred, Tristram's cousin and\nfoe, to gain possession of his estates. This villain got a lady to\ndeclare that she had nursed Tristram in a fatal illness, that he had\ndied in her care, and had been buried by her near a forest well; and she\nfurther said that before his death he had left a request that King Mark\nwould make Andred king of Lyonesse, of which country Tristram now was\nlord.\n\nOn hearing these tidings, King Mark made a great show of grief, weeping\nand lamenting as if he had lost his best friend in the world. But when\nthe news came to La Belle Isolde, so deep a weight of woe fell upon her\nthat she nearly went out of her mind. So deeply did she grieve, indeed,\nthat she vowed to destroy herself, declaring bitterly that she would not\nlive if Tristram was dead.\n\nSo she secretly got a sword and went with it into her garden, where she\nforced the hilt into a crevice in a plum-tree so that the naked point\nstood out breast high. Then she kneeled down and prayed piteously:\n\"Sweet Lord Jesus, have pity on me, for I may not live after the death\nof Sir Tristram. My first love he was, and he shall be my last.\"\n\nAll this had been seen by King Mark, who had followed her privily, and\nas she rose and was about to cast herself on the sword he came behind\nand caught her in his arms. Then he tore the sword from the tree, and\nbore her away, struggling and moaning, to a strong tower, where he set\nguards upon her, bidding them to watch her closely. After that she lay\nlong sick, and came nigh to the point of death.\n\nMeanwhile, Tristram ran wildly through the forest, with Dagonet's sword\nin his hand, till he came to a hermitage, where he lay down and slept.\nWhile he slumbered, the hermit, who knew of his madness, stole the sword\nfrom him and laid meat beside him. Here he remained ten days, and\nafterwards departed and returned to the herdsmen.\n\nAnd now another adventure happened. There was in that country a giant\nnamed Tauleas, brother to that Taulard whom Sir Marhaus had killed. For\nfear of Tristram he had for seven years kept close in his castle, daring\nnot to go at large and commit depredations as of old. But now, hearing\nthe rumor that Tristram was dead, he resumed his old evil courses. And\none day he came to where the herdsmen were engaged, and seated himself\nto rest among them. By chance there passed along the road near by a\nCornish knight named Sir Dinant, with whom rode a lady.\n\nWhen the giant saw them coming, he left the herdsmen and hid himself\nunder a tree near a well, deeming that the knight would stop there to\ndrink. This he did, but no sooner had he sought the well than the giant\nslipped from his covert and leaped upon the horse. Then he rode upon Sir\nDinant, took him by the collar, and pulled him before him upon the\nhorse, reaching for his dagger to strike off his head.\n\nAt this moment the herdsmen called to Tristram, who had just come from\nthe forest depths: \"Help the knight.\"\n\n\"Help him yourselves,\" said Tristram.\n\n\"We dare not,\" they replied.\n\nThen Tristram ran up and seized the sword of the knight, which had\nfallen to the ground, and with one broad sweep struck off the head of\nTauleas clean from the shoulders. This done he dropped the sword as if\nhe had done but a trifle and went back to the herdsmen.\n\nShortly after this, Sir Dinant appeared at Tintagil, bearing with him\nthe giant's head, and there told what had happened to him and how he had\nbeen rescued.\n\n\"Where had you this adventure?\" asked the king.\n\n\"At the herdsmen's fountain in the forest,\" said Dinant. \"There where so\nmany knights-errant meet. They say this madman haunts that spot.\"\n\n\"He cannot be Matto le Breune, as I fancied,\" said the king. \"It was a\nman of no small might who made that stroke. I shall seek this wild man\nmyself.\"\n\nOn the next day King Mark, with a following of knights and hunters, rode\ninto the forest, where they continued their course till they came to the\nwell. Lying beside it they saw a gaunt, naked man, with a sword beside\nhim. Who he was they knew not, for madness and exposure had so changed\nTristram's face that no one knew it.\n\nBy the king's command he was picked up slumbering and covered with\nmantles, and thus borne in a litter to Tintagil. Here they bathed and\nwashed him, and gave him warm food and gentle care, till his madness\npassed away and his wits came back to him. But no one knew him, so much\nhad he changed, while all deemed Tristram dead, and had no thought of\nhim.\n\nWord of what had happened came to Isolde where she lay sick, and with a\nsudden whim she rose from her bed and bade Bragwaine come with her, as\nshe had a fancy to see the forest madman.\n\nAsking where he was, she was told that he was in the garden, resting in\nan arbor, in a light slumber. Hither they sought him and looked down\nupon him, knowing him not.\n\nBut as they stood there Tristram woke, and when he saw the queen he\nturned away his head, while tears ran from his eyes. It happened that\nthe queen had with her a little brachet, which Tristram had given her\nwhen she first came to Cornwall, and which always remembered and loved\nits old master.\n\nWhen this little creature came near the sick man, she leaped upon him\nand licked his cheeks and hands, and whined about him, showing great joy\nand excitement.\n\n\"The dog is wiser than us all,\" cried Dame Bragwaine. \"She knows her\nmaster. They spoke falsely who said he was dead. It is Sir Tristram.\"\n\nBut Isolde fell to the ground in a swoon, and lay there long insensible.\nWhen at length she recovered, she said,--\n\n\"My dear lord and knight, I thank God deeply that you still live, for\nthe story of your death had nearly caused mine. Your life is in dread\ndanger, for when King Mark knows you he will either banish or destroy\nyou. Therefore I beg you to fly from this court and seek that of King\nArthur where you are beloved. This you may trust, that at all times,\nearly and late, my love for you will keep fresh in my heart.\"\n\n\"I pray you leave me, Isolde,\" answered the knight. \"It is not well that\nyou should be seen here. Fear not that I will forget what you have\nsaid.\"\n\nThen the queen departed, but do what she would the brachet would not\nfollow her, but kept with the sick knight. Soon afterwards King Mark\nvisited him, and to his surprise the brachet sat upon the prostrate man\nand bayed at the king.\n\n\"What does this mean?\" he asked.\n\n\"I can tell you,\" answered a knight. \"That dog was Sir Tristram's before\nit was the queen's. The brachet is wiser than us all. It knows its\nmaster.\"\n\n\"That I cannot believe,\" said the king. \"Tell me your name, my good\nman.\"\n\n\"My name is Tristram of Lyonesse,\" answered the knight. \"I am in your\npower. Do with me what you will.\"\n\nThe king looked at him long and strangely, with anger in his eyes.\n\n\"Truly,\" he said, \"you had better have died while you were about it. It\nwould have saved me the need of dealing with you as you deserve.\"\n\nThen he returned to the castle, and called his barons hastily to\ncouncil, sternly demanding that the penalty of death should be adjudged\nagainst the knight. Happily for Tristram, the barons would not consent\nto this, and proposed instead that the accused knight should be\nbanished.\n\nSo in the end the sentence was passed that Tristram should be banished\nfor ten years from the country of Cornwall, not to return under pain of\ndeath. To this the knight assented, taking an oath before the king and\nhis barons that he would abide by the decision of the court.\n\nMany barons accompanied him to the ship in which he was to set sail. And\nas he was going, there arrived at Tintagil a knight of King Arthur's\ncourt named Dinadan, who had been sent to seek Sir Tristram and request\nhim to come to Camelot.\n\nOn being shown the banished knight, he went to him and told his errand.\n\n\"You come in good season,\" said Tristram, \"for to Camelot am I now\nbound.\"\n\n\"Then I would go with you in fellowship.\"\n\n\"You are right welcome, Sir Dinadan.\" Then Tristram turned to the others\nand said,--\n\n[Illustration: TINTAGIL, KING ARTHUR'S CASTLE, FROM THE VALLEY.]\n\n\"Greet King Mark from me, and all my enemies as well, and tell them that\nI shall come again in my own good time. I am well rewarded for all I\nhave done for him, but revenge has a long life, as he may yet learn.\"\n\nThen he took ship and put to sea, a banished man. And with him went\nDinadan to cheer him in his woe, for, of all the knights of the Round\nTable, Dinadan was the merriest soul.\n\n\n\n\n BOOK VII.\n\n HOW TRISTRAM CAME TO CAMELOT.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTRISTRAM AND DINADAN.\n\n\nAnd now it behooves us to follow the banished knight in his adventures,\nfor they were many and various, and arduous were the labors with which\nhe won his right to a seat at the Round Table. We have told the tale of\nhis love and madness, and now must relate the marvellous exploits of his\nbanishment.\n\nHardly, indeed, had Tristram and Dinadan landed in Arthur's realms when\nthey met two knights of his court, Hector de Maris and Bors de Ganis.\nThis encounter took place upon a bridge, where Hector and Dinadan\njousted, and Dinadan and his horse were overthrown. But Bors refused to\nfight with Tristram, through the contempt he felt for Cornish knights.\nYet the honor of Cornwall was soon retrieved, for Sir Bleoberis and Sir\nDriant now came up, and Bleoberis proffered to joust with Tristram, who\nquickly smote him to the earth.\n\nThis done, Tristram and Dinadan departed, leaving their opponents in\nsurprise that such valor and might could come out of Cornwall. But not\nfar had the two knights-errant gone when they entered a forest, where\nthey met a damsel, who was in search of some noble knights to rescue Sir\nLancelot. Morgan le Fay, who hated him bitterly since his escape from\nher castle, had laid an ambush of thirty knights at a point which\nLancelot was approaching, thinking to attack him unawares and so slay\nhim.\n\nThe damsel, who had learned of this plot, had already met the four\nknights whom Tristram and Dinadan had encountered, and obtained their\npromise to come to the rescue.\n\nShe now told her story of crime and treachery to the two wanderers, with\nthe same request.\n\n\"Fair damsel,\" said Tristram, \"you could set me no more welcome task.\nGuide me to the place where those dastards lie in ambush for Lancelot.\"\n\n\"What would you do?\" cried Dinadan. \"We cannot match thirty knights. Two\nor three are enough for any one knight, if they be men. I hope you don't\nfancy that I will take fifteen to my share!\"\n\n\"Come, come, good comrade,\" said Tristram. \"Do not show the white\nfeather.\"\n\n\"I would rather wear the white feather than the fool's cap,\" said\nDinadan. \"Lend me your shield if you will; for I had sooner carry a\nCornish shield, which all men say only cowards bear, than try any such\nfoolhardy adventure.\"\n\n\"Nay; I will keep my shield for the sake of her who gave it to me,\"\nanswered Tristram. \"But this I warn you, if you will not abide with me\nI shall slay you before we part, for a coward has no right to cumber\nthe earth. I ask no more of you than to fight one knight. If your heart\nis too faint for that, then stand by and see me meet the whole crew.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Dinadan, \"you can trust me to look on bravely, and\nmayhap to do something to save my head from hard knocks; but I would\ngive my helmet if I had not met you. Folks say you are cured of your mad\nfit, but I vow if I have much faith in your sound sense.\"\n\nTristram smiled grimly at Dinadan's scolding, and kept on after the\ndamsel. Not far had they gone before they met the thirty knights. These\nhad already passed the four knights of Arthur's court, without a combat,\nand they now rode in the same way past Tristram and Dinadan, with no\nshow of hostility.\n\nBut Tristram was of different mettle. Turning towards them he cried with\na voice of thunder,--\"Lo! sir villains. I have heard of your plot to\nmurder Lancelot. Turn and defend yourselves. Here is a knight ready to\nfight you all for the love of Lancelot du Lake!\"\n\nThen, spurring his good war-steed, he rode upon them with the fury of a\nlion, slaying two with his spear. He then drew his mighty blade, and\nattacked them with such fierce spirit and giant strength that ten more\nsoon fell dead beneath his furious blows. Nor did Dinadan stand and look\non, as he had grumblingly threatened, but rode in and aided Tristram\nnobly, more than one of the villains falling before his blows. When, at\nlength, the murderous crew took to flight, there were but ten of them\nalive.\n\nSir Bors and his companions had seen this battle at a distance, but it\nwas all over before they could reach the scene of fray. High was their\npraise of the valor and prowess of the victor, who, they said, had done\nsuch a deed as they had deemed only Lancelot could perform.\n\nThey invited him with knightly warmth and courtesy to go with them to\ntheir lodging.\n\n\"Many thanks, fair sirs,\" said Tristram, \"but I cannot go with you.\"\n\n\"Then tell us your name, that we may remember it as that of one of the\nbest of knights, and give you the honor which is your due.\"\n\n\"Nor that either,\" answered Tristram. \"In good time you shall know my\nname, but not now.\"\n\nLeaving them with the dead knights, Tristram and Dinadan rode forward,\nand in time found themselves near a party of shepherds and herdsmen,\nwhom they asked if any lodging was to be had near by.\n\n\"That there is,\" said the herdsmen, \"and good lodging, in a castle close\nat hand. But it is not to be had for the asking. The custom of that\ncastle is that no knight shall lodge there except he fight with two\nknights of the castle. But as you are two, you can fight your battle man\nfor man, if you seek lodging there.\"\n\n\"That is rough pay for a night's rest,\" said Dinadan. \"Lodge where you\nwill, I will not rest in that castle. I have done enough to-day to spoil\nmy appetite for fighting.\"\n\n\"Come, come,\" said Tristram, \"and you a Knight of the Round Table! You\ncannot refuse to win your lodging in knightly fashion.\"\n\n\"Win it you must if you want it,\" said the herdsmen; \"for if you have\nthe worse of the battle no lodging will you gain in these quarters,\nexcept it be in the wild wood.\"\n\n\"Be it so, if it must,\" said Dinadan. \"In flat English, I will not go to\nthe castle.\"\n\n\"Are you a man?\" demanded Tristram, scornfully. \"Come, Dinadan, I know\nyou are no coward. On your knighthood, come.\"\n\nGrowling in his throat, Dinadan followed his comrade, sorely against his\nwill, and together they rode into the castle court. Here they found, as\nthey had been told, two armed knights ready to meet them.\n\nTo make a long story short, Tristram and Dinadan smote them both down,\nand afterwards entered the castle, where the best of good cheer was\nserved them. But when they had disarmed, and were having a merry time at\nthe well-filled table, word was brought them that two other knights,\nPalamides and Gaheris, had entered the gates, and demanded a joust\naccording to the castle custom.\n\n\"The foul fiend take them!\" cried Dinadan. \"Fight I will not; I am here\nfor rest.\"\n\n\"We are now the lords of the castle, and must defend its custom,\" said\nTristram. \"Make ready, therefore, for fight you must.\"\n\n\"Why, in the devil's name, came I here in your company?\" cried Dinadan.\n\"You will wear all the flesh off my bones.\"\n\nBut there was nothing to do but arm themselves and meet the two knights\nin the court-yard. Of these Gaheris encountered Tristram, and got a fall\nfor his pains; but Palamides hurled Dinadan from his horse. So far,\nthen, it was fall for fall, and the contest could be decided only by a\nfight on foot. But Dinadan was bruised from his fall and refused to\nfight. Tristram unlaced his helmet to give him air, and prayed him for\nhis aid.\n\n\"Fight them yourself, if you will; two such knights are but a morsel to\nyou,\" said Dinadan. \"As for me, I am sore wounded from our little\nskirmish with the thirty knights, and have no valor left in me. Sir\nTristram, you are a madman yet, and I curse the time that ever I saw\nyou. In all the world there are no two such mad freaks as Lancelot and\nyou. Once I fell into fellowship with Lancelot as I have now with you,\nand what followed? Why, he set me a task that kept me a quarter of a\nyear in bed. Defend me from such head-splitters, and save me from your\nfellowship.\"\n\n\"Then if you will not fight I must face them both,\" said Tristram. \"Come\nforth, both of you, I am ready for you.\"\n\nAt this challenge Palamides and Gaheris advanced and struck at the two\nknights. But after a stroke or two at Gaheris, Dinadan withdrew from the\nfray.\n\n\"This is not fair, two to one,\" said Palamides. \"Stand aside, Gaheris,\nwith that knight who declines to fight, and let us two finish the\ncombat.\"\n\nThen he and Tristram fought long and fiercely, Tristram in the end\ndriving him back three paces. At this Gaheris and Dinadan pushed\nbetween them and bade them cease fighting, as both had done enough for\nhonor.\n\n\"So be it,\" said Tristram, \"and these brave knights are welcome to lodge\nwith us in the castle if they will.\"\n\n\"With you, not with us,\" said Dinadan, dryly. \"When I lodge in that\ndevil's den may I sell my sword for a herring. We will be called up\nevery hour of the night to fight for our bedding. And as for you, good\nfriend, when I ride with you again, it will be when you have grown older\nand wiser, or I younger and more foolish.\"\n\nWith these words he mounted his horse and rode in an ill-humor out of\nthe castle gates.\n\n\"Come, good sirs, we must after him,\" said Tristram, with a laugh. \"He\nis a prime good fellow, if he has taken himself off in a pet; it is\nlikely I gave him an overdose of fighting.\"\n\nSo, asking a man of the castle to guide them to a lodging, they rode\nafter Dinadan, whom they soon overtook, though he gave them no hearty\nwelcome. Two miles farther brought them to a priory, where they spent\nthe night in comfort.\n\nEarly the next day Tristram mounted and rode away, leaving Dinadan at\nthe priory, for he was too much bruised to mount his horse. There\nremained at the priory with him a knight named Pellinore, who sought\nearnestly to learn Tristram's name, and at last said angrily to\nDinadan,--\n\n\"Since you will not tell me his name, I will ride after him and make him\ntell it himself, or leave him on the ground to repent.\"\n\n\"Beware, my good sir,\" said Dinadan, \"or the repentance will be yours\ninstead of his. No wise man is he who thrusts his own hand in the fire.\"\n\n\"Good faith, I fear him not,\" said Pellinore, haughtily, and rode on his\nway.\n\nBut he paid dearly for his hardiness, for a half-hour afterwards he lay\non the earth with a spear wound in his shoulder, while Tristram rode\nunscathed on his way.\n\nOn the day following Tristram met with pursuivants, who were spreading\nfar and wide the news of a great tournament that was to be held between\nKing Carados and the king of North Wales, at the Castle of Maidens. They\nwere seeking for good knights to take part in that tournament, and in\nparticular King Carados had bidden them to seek Lancelot, and the king\nof Northgalis to seek Tristram de Lyonesse.\n\n\"Lancelot is not far away,\" said Tristram. \"As for me, I will be there,\nand do my best to win honor in the fray.\"\n\nAnd so he rode away, and soon after met with Sir Kay and Sir Sagramore,\nwith whom he refused to joust, as he wished to keep himself fresh for\nthe tournament.\n\nBut as Kay twitted him with being a cowardly knight of Cornwall, he\nturned on him and smote him from his horse. Then, to complete the tale,\nhe served Sagramore with the same sauce, and serenely rode on his way,\nleaving them to heal their bruises with repentance.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nON THE ROAD TO THE TOURNAMENT.\n\n\nTristram now rode far alone through a country strange to him, and void\nof knightly adventures. At length, however, chance brought to him a\ndamsel, who told him disconsolately that she sought a champion to cope\nwith a villanous knight, who was playing the tyrant over a wide\ndistrict, and who defied all errant knights.\n\n\"If you would win great honor come with me,\" she said.\n\n\"To win honor is the breath of my life,\" said Tristram. \"Lead on, fair\nmaiden.\"\n\nThen he rode with her a matter of six miles, when good fortune brought\nthem in contact with Sir Gawaine, who recognized the damsel as one of\nMorgan le Fay's. On seeing her with an unknown knight he at once\nsurmised that there was some mischief afoot.\n\n\"Fair sir,\" said Gawaine, \"whither ride you with that damsel?\"\n\n\"Whither she may lead me,\" said Tristram. \"That is all I know of the\nmatter.\"\n\n\"Then, by my good blade, you shall ride no farther with her, for she has\na breeder of ill for mistress, and means you a mischief.\"\n\nHe drew his sword as he spoke, and said in stern accents to the\ndamsel,--\n\n\"Tell me wherefore and whither you lead this knight, or you shall die on\nthe spot. I know you, minx, and the false-hearted witch who sends you.\"\n\n\"Mercy, Sir Gawaine!\" she cried, trembling in mortal fear. \"Harm me not,\nand I will tell you all I know.\"\n\n\"Say on, then. I crave not your worthless life, but will have it if you\ntell me not the truth.\"\n\n\"Good and valiant sir,\" she answered, \"Queen Morgan le Fay, my lady, has\nsent me and thirty ladies more, in search of Sir Lancelot or Sir\nTristram. Whoever of us shall first meet either of these knights is to\nlead him to her castle, with a tale of worshipful deeds to be done and\nwrongs to be righted. But thirty knights lie in wait in a tower ready to\nsally forth and destroy them.\"\n\n\"Foul shame is this,\" cried Gawaine, \"that such treachery should ever be\ndevised by a queen's daughter and the sister of the worshipful King\nArthur. Sir knight, will you stand with me, and unmask the malice of\nthese thirty ambushed rogues?\"\n\n\"That shall I willingly,\" said Tristram. \"Trust me to do my share to\npunish these dogs. Not long since I and a fellow met with thirty of that\nlady's knights, who were in ambush for Lancelot, and we gave them\nsomething else to think of. If there be another thirty on the same vile\nquest, I am for them.\"\n\nThen they rode together towards the queen's castle, Gawaine with a\nshrewd fancy that he knew his Cornish companion, for he had heard the\nstory of how two knights had beaten thirty. When they reached the\ncastle, Gawaine called in a loud voice,--\n\n\"Queen Morgan le Fay, send out the knights whom you hold in ambush\nagainst Lancelot and Tristram. I know your treason, and will tell of it\nwherever I ride. I, Sir Gawaine, and my fellow here, dare your thirty\nknights to come out and meet us like men.\"\n\n\"You bluster bravely, friend Gawaine,\" answered the knights. \"But we\nwell know that your pride and valor come from the knight who is there\nwith you. Some of us have tried conclusions with that head-splitter who\nwears the arms of Cornwall, and have had enough of him. You alone would\nnot keep us long in the castle, but we have no fancy to measure swords\nwith him. So ride your way; you will get no glory here.\"\n\nIn vain did Gawaine berate them as dastards and villains; say what he\nwould, not a soul of them would set foot beyond the walls, and in time\nthe two knights rode away in a rage, cursing all cowards in their\nbeards.\n\nFor several days they rode together without adventure. Then they beheld\na shameful sight, that roused their souls to anger. For they saw a\nvillanous knight, known in those parts as Breuse Sans Pit\u00e9, who chased a\nlady with intent to kill her, having slain her lover before. Many\ndastardly deeds of this kind had he done, yet so far had escaped all\nretribution for his crimes.\n\n\"Let me ride alone against him,\" said Gawaine. \"I know his tricks. He\nwill stand to face one man, but if he sees us both, he will fly, and he\nalways rides so swift a horse that none can overtake him.\"\n\nThen he rode at full speed between the lady and her pursuer, and cried\nloudly,--\n\n\"False knight and murderer, leave that lady and try your tricks on me.\"\n\nSir Breuse, seeing but one, put his spear in rest and rode furiously\nagainst Gawaine, whom he struck so strong a blow that he flung him\nprostrate to the ground. Then, with deadly intent, he forced his horse\nto trample over him twenty times backward and forward, thinking to\ndestroy him. But when Tristram saw this villany he broke from his covert\nand rushed in fury upon the murderous wretch.\n\nBut Breuse Sans Pit\u00e9 had met with Tristram before, and knew him by his\narms. Therefore he turned his horse and fled at full speed, hotly\npursued by the furious knight. Long he chased him, full of thirst for\nrevenge, but the well-horsed villain rode at such a pace that he left\nhim in the distance. At length Tristram, despairing of overtaking him,\nand seeing an inviting forest spring, drew up his horse and rode thither\nfor rest and refreshment.\n\nDismounting and tying his horse to a tree, he washed his face and hands\nand took a deep and grateful draught of the cool water. Then laying\nhimself to rest by the spring side, he fell sound asleep.\n\nWhile he lay there good fortune brought to that forest spring a lady who\nhad sought him far and wide. This was Dame Bragwaine, the lady companion\nof La Belle Isolde, who bore him letters from the queen. She failed to\nrecognize the sleeping knight, but at first sight knew his noble\ncharger, Passe Brewel, which Tristram had ridden for years. So she\nseated herself gladly by the knight, and waited patiently till he awoke.\nThen she saluted him, and he her, for he failed not to recognize his\nold acquaintance.\n\n\"What of my dear lady, La Belle Isolde?\" he asked, eagerly.\n\n\"She is well, and has sent me to seek you. Far and wide have I sought\nfor you through the land, and glad enough am I to hand you the letters I\nbear.\"\n\n\"Not so glad as I am to receive them,\" said Tristram, joyfully, taking\nthem from her hand and opening them with eager haste, while his soul\noverflowed with joy as he read Isolde's words of love and constancy,\nthough with them was mingled many a piteous complaint.\n\n\"Come with me, Dame Bragwaine,\" he said. \"I am riding to the tournament\nto be held at the Castle of Maidens. There will I answer these letters,\nand to have you there, to tell the tale of my doings to my Lady Isolde,\nwill give me double strength and valor.\"\n\nTo this Dame Bragwaine willingly agreed, and mounting they rode till\nthey came to the castle of a hospitable old knight, near where the\ntournament was to be held. Here they were given shelter and\nentertainment.\n\nAs they sat at supper with Sir Pellounes, their ancient host, he told\nthem much of the great tournament that was at hand, among other things\nthat Lancelot would be there, with thirty-two knights of his kindred,\neach of whom would bear a shield with the arms of Cornwall.\n\nIn the midst of their conversation a messenger entered, who told\nPellounes that his son, Persides de Bloise, had come home, whereupon\nthe old knight held up his hands and thanked God, telling Tristram that\nhe had not seen his son for two years.\n\n\"I know him,\" said Tristram, \"and a good and worthy knight he is.\"\n\nOn the next morning, when Tristram came into the castle hall clad in his\nhouse attire, he met with Persides, similarly unarmed, and they saluted\neach other courteously.\n\n\"My father tells me that you are of Cornwall,\" said Persides. \"I jousted\nthere once before King Mark, and fortune helped me to overthrow ten\nknights. But Tristram de Lyonesse overthrew me and took my lady from me.\nThis I have not forgotten, and I will repay him for it yet.\"\n\n\"You hate Sir Tristram, then? Do you think that will trouble him much,\nand that he is not able to withstand your malice?\"\n\n\"He is a better knight than I, that I admit. But for all that I owe him\nno good will.\"\n\nAs thus they stood talking at a bay window of the castle, they saw many\nknights ride by on their way to the tournament. Among these Tristram\nmarked a strongly-built warrior mounted on a great black horse, and\nbearing a black shield.\n\n\"What knight is that?\" he asked. \"He looks like a strong and able one.\"\n\n\"He is one of the best in the world,\" said Persides. \"I know him well.\"\n\n\"Is it Sir Lancelot?\"\n\n\"No, no. It is Palamides, an unchristened Saracen, but a noble man.\"\n\n\"Palamides! I should know him too, but his arms deceived me.\"\n\nAs they continued to look they saw many of the country people salute the\nblack knight. Some time afterwards a squire came to Pellounes, the lord\nof the castle, and told him that a fierce combat had taken place in the\nroad some distance in advance, and that a knight with a black shield had\nsmitten down thirteen others. He was still there, ready for any who\nmight wish to meet him, and holding a tournament of his own in the\nhighway.\n\n\"On my faith, that is Palamides!\" said Tristram. \"The worthy fellow must\nbe brimful of fight. Fair brother, let us cast on our cloaks and see the\nplay.\"\n\n\"Not I,\" said Persides. \"Let us not go like courtiers there, but like\nmen ready to withstand their enemies.\"\n\n\"As you will. To fight or to look on is all one to me.\"\n\nThen they armed and rode to the spot where so many knights had tried\ntheir fortune before the tournament. When Palamides saw them approach,\nhe said to his squire,--\n\n\"Go to yonder knight with a green shield and in it a lion of gold. Tell\nhim that I request a passage-at-arms with him, and that my name is\nPalamides.\"\n\nPersides, who wore the shield thus described, did not hesitate to accept\nthe challenge, and rode against Palamides, but quickly found himself\nfelled to the earth by his powerful antagonist. Then Tristram made ready\nto avenge his comrade, but before he could put his spear in rest\nPalamides rode upon him like a thunderbolt, taking him at advantage, and\nhurling him over his horse's tail.\n\nAt this Tristram sprang up in furious anger and sore shame, and leaped\ninto his saddle.\n\nThen he sent Gouvernail to Palamides, accusing him of treachery, and\ndemanding a joust on equal terms.\n\n\"Not so,\" answered Palamides. \"I know that knight better than he\nfancies, and will not meet him now. But if he wants satisfaction he may\nhave it to-morrow at the Castle of Maidens, where I will be ready to\nmeet him in the lists.\"\n\nAs Tristram stood fretting and fuming in wrathful spite, Dinadan, who\nhad seen the affair, came up, and seeing the anger of the Cornish\nknight, restrained his inclination to jest.\n\n\"Here it is proved,\" he said, \"that a man can never be so strong but he\nmay meet his equal. Never was man so wise but that his brain might fail\nhim, and a passing good rider is he that never had a fall.\"\n\n\"Let be,\" cried Tristram, angrily. \"You are readier with your tongue\nthan with your sword, friend Dinadan. I will revenge myself, and you\nshall see it.\"\n\nAs they stood thus talking there came by them a likely knight, who rode\nsoberly and heavily, bearing a black shield.\n\n\"What knight is that?\" asked Tristram.\n\n\"It is Sir Briant of North Wales,\" answered Persides. \"I know him well.\"\n\nJust behind him came a knight who bore a shield with the arms of\nCornwall, and as he rode up he sent a squire to Sir Briant, whom he\nrequired to joust with him.\n\n\"Let it be so, if he will have it so,\" said Briant. \"Bid him make\nready.\"\n\nThen they rode together, and the Welsh knight got a severe fall.\n\n\"What Cornish knight is this?\" asked Tristram.\n\n\"None, as I fancy,\" said Dinadan. \"I warrant he is of King Ban's blood,\nwhich counts the noblest knights of the world.\"\n\nThen two other knights came up and challenged him with the Cornish\nshield, and in a trice he smote them both down with one spear.\n\n\"By my faith,\" said Tristram, \"he is a good knight, whoever he be, and I\nnever saw one yet that rode so well.\"\n\nThen the king of Northgalis rode to Palamides, and prayed him for his\nsake to joust with that knight who had just overturned two Welsh\nknights.\n\n\"I beg you ask me not,\" said Palamides. \"I have had my full share of\njousting already, and wish to keep fresh for the tournament to-morrow.\"\n\n\"One ride only, for the honor of North Wales,\" beseeched the king.\n\n\"Well, if you will have it so; but I have seen many a man have a fall at\nhis own request.\"\n\nThen he sent a squire to the victor knight, and challenged him to a\njoust.\n\n\"Fair fellow,\" said the knight, \"tell me your lord's name.\"\n\n\"It is Sir Palamides.\"\n\n\"He is well met, then. I have seen no knight in seven years with whom I\nwould rather tilt.\"\n\nThen the two knights took spears from their squires, and rode apart.\n\n\"Now,\" said Dinadan, \"you will see Palamides come off the victor.\"\n\n\"I doubt it,\" answered Tristram. \"I wager the knight with the Cornish\nshield will give him a fall.\"\n\n\"That I do not believe,\" said Dinadan.\n\nAs they spoke, the two knights put spears in rest, and spurred their\nhorses, riding hotly together. Palamides broke a spear on his\nantagonist, without moving him in his saddle; but on his side he\nreceived such a blow that it broke through his shield and hauberk, and\nwould have slain him outright had he not fallen.\n\n\"How now?\" cried Tristram. \"Am I not right? I knew by the way those\nknights ride which would fall.\"\n\nThe unknown knight now rode away and sought a well in the forest edge,\nfor he was hot and thirsty with the fray. This was seen by the king of\nNorthgalis, who sent twelve knights after him to do him a mischief, so\nthat he would not be able to appear at the tournament and win the\nvictory.\n\nThey came upon him so suddenly that he had scarcely time to put on his\nhelm and spring to his horse's back before they assailed him in mass.\n\n\"Ye villains!\" he cried, \"twelve to one! And taking a man unawares! You\nwant a lesson, and by my faith you shall have it.\"\n\nThen spurring his horse he rode on them so fiercely that he smote one\nknight through the body, breaking his spear in doing so. Now he drew his\nsword and smote stoutly to right and left, killing three others and\nwounding more.\n\n\"Dogs and dastards! know you me not?\" he cried in a voice of thunder.\n\"My name is Lancelot du Lake. Here's for you, cowards and traitors!\"\n\nBut the name he had shouted was enough. Those who were still able, fled,\nfollowed by the angry knight. By hard riding they escaped his wrath, and\nhe, hot and furious, turned aside to a lodging where he designed to\nspend the night. In consequence of his hard labor in this encounter\nLancelot fought not on the first day of the tournament, but sat beside\nKing Arthur, who had come hither from Camelot to witness the\npassage-at-arms.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nAT THE CASTLE OF MAIDENS.\n\n\nWhen came the dawn of the first day of the tournament, many ladies and\ngentlemen of the court took their seats on a high gallery, shaded by a\nrich canopy of parti-colored silk, while in the centre of the gallery\nsat King Arthur and Queen Guenever, and, by the side of the king,\nLancelot du Lake. Many other noble lords and ladies of the surrounding\ncountry occupied the adjoining seats, while round the circle that closed\nin the lists sat hosts of citizens and country people, all eager for the\nwarlike sports.\n\nKnights in glittering armor stood in warlike groups outside the entrance\ngates, where rose many pavilions of red and white silk, each with its\nfluttering pennon, and great war-horses that impatiently champed the\nbit, while the bright steel heads of the lances shone like star-points\nin the sun.\n\nWithin the lists the heralds and pursuivants busied themselves, while\ncheery calls, and bugle-blasts, and the lively chat of the assembled\nmultitude filled the air with joyous sound.\n\nTristram de Lyonesse still dwelt with the old knight Sir Pellounes, in\ncompany with Sir Persides, whom he yet kept in ignorance of his name.\nAnd as it was his purpose to fight that day unknown, he ordered\nGouvernail, his squire, to procure him a black-faced shield, without\nemblem or device of any kind.\n\nSo accoutred, he and Persides mounted in the early morn and rode\ntogether to the lists, where the parties of King Carados and the king of\nNorthgalis were already being formed. Tristram and his companion joined\nthe side of Carados, the Scottish king, and hardly had they ridden to\ntheir place when King Arthur gave the signal for the onset, the bugles\nloudly sounded, and the two long lines of knights rode together with a\ncrash as of two thunder-clouds meeting in mid-air.\n\nMany knights and horses went to the earth in that mad onset, and many\nothers who had broken their spears drew their swords and so kept up the\nfray. The part of the line where Tristram and Persides was drove back\nthe king of Northgalis and his men, with many noble knights who fought\non the side of the Welsh king. But through the rush and roar of the\nonset there pushed forward Bleoberis de Ganis and Gaheris, who hurled\nPersides to the earth, where he was almost slain, for as he lay there\nhelpless more than forty horsemen rode over him in the fray.\n\nSeeing this, and what valiant deeds the two knights did, Tristram\nmarvelled who they were. But perceiving the danger in which his comrade\nPersides lay, he rushed to the rescue with such force that Gaheris was\nhurled headlong from his horse. Then Bleoberis in a rage put his spear\nin rest and rode furiously against Tristram, but he was met in\nmid-career, and flung from his saddle by the resistless spear of the\nCornish knight.\n\nThe king with the hundred knights now rode angrily forward, pressed back\nthe struggling line, and horsed Gaheris and Bleoberis. Then began a\nfierce struggle, in which Bleoberis and Tristram did many deeds of\nknightly skill and valor.\n\nAs the violent combat continued, Dinadan, who was on the other side,\nrode against Tristram, not knowing him, and got such a buffet that he\nswooned in his saddle. He recovered in a minute, however, and, riding to\nhis late companion, said in a low voice,--\n\n\"Sir knight, is this the way you serve an old comrade, masking under a\nblack shield? I know you now better than you deem. I will not reveal\nyour disguise, but by my troth I vow I will never try buffets with you\nagain, and, if I keep my wits, sword of yours shall never come near my\nheadpiece.\"\n\nAs Dinadan withdrew to repair damages, Bleoberis rode against Tristram,\nwho gave him such a furious sword-blow on the helm that he bowed his\nhead to the saddle. Then Tristram caught him by the helm, jerked him\nfrom his horse, and flung him down under the feet of the steed.\n\nThis ended the fray, for at that moment Arthur bade the heralds to blow\nto lodging, and the knights who still held saddle sheathed their swords.\nTristram thereupon departed to his pavilion and Dinadan with him.\n\nBut Arthur, and many of those with him, wondered who was the knight with\nthe black shield, who had with sword and spear done such wondrous deeds.\nMany opinions were given, and some suspected him of being Tristram, but\nheld their peace. To him the judges awarded the prize of the day's\ncombat, though they named him only the knight of the black shield, not\nknowing by what other name to call him.\n\nWhen the second day of the tournament dawned, and the knights prepared\nfor the combat, Palamides, who had fought under Northgalis, now joined\nKing Arthur's party, that led by Carados, and sent to Tristram to know\nhis name.\n\n\"As to that,\" answered Tristram, \"tell Sir Palamides that he shall not\nknow till I have broken two spears with him. But you may tell him that I\nam the same knight that he smote down unfairly the day before the\ntournament, and that I owe him as shrewd a turn. So whichever side he\ntakes I will take the opposite.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said the messenger, \"he will be on King Arthur's side, in company\nwith the noblest knights.\"\n\n\"Then I will fight for Northgalis, though yesterday I held with\nCarados.\"\n\n[Illustration: TRISTRAM THEREUPON DEPARTED TO HIS PAVILION.]\n\nWhen King Arthur blew to field and the fray began, King Carados opened\nthe day by a joust with the king with the hundred knights, who gave him\na sore fall. Around him there grew up a fierce combat, till a troop of\nArthur's knights pushed briskly in and bore back the opposite party,\nrescuing Carados from under the horses' feet. While the fight went on\nthus in one part of the field, Tristram, in jet-black armor, pressed\nresistlessly forward in another part, and dealt so roughly and grimly\nwith Arthur's knights that not a man of them could withstand him.\n\nAt length he fell among the fellowship of King Ban, all of whom bore\nCornish shields, and here he smote right and left with such fury and\nmight that cries of admiration for his gallant bearing went up from\nlords and ladies, citizens and churls. But he would have had the worse\nthrough force of numbers had not the king with the hundred knights come\nto his rescue, and borne him away from the press of his assailants, who\nwere crowding upon him in irresistible strength.\n\nHardly had Tristram escaped from this peril than he saw another group of\nabout forty knights, with Kay the seneschal at their head. On them he\nrode like a fury, smote Kay from his horse, and fared among them all\nlike a greyhound among conies.\n\nAt this juncture Lancelot, who had hitherto taken little part, met a\nknight retiring from the lists with a sore wound in the head.\n\n\"Who hurt you so badly?\" he asked.\n\n\"That knight with the black shield, who is making havoc wherever he\ngoes,\" was the answer. \"I may curse the time I ever faced him, for he is\nmore devil than mortal man.\"\n\nLancelot at these words drew his sword and advanced to meet Tristram,\nand as he rode forward saw the Cornish champion hurtling through a press\nof foes, bringing down one with nearly every stroke of his sword.\n\n\"A fellow of marvellous prowess he, whoever he be,\" said Lancelot. \"If I\nset upon this knight after all his heavy labor, I will shame myself more\nthan him.\" And he put up his sword.\n\nThen the king with the hundred knights, with his following, and a\nhundred more of the Welsh party, set upon the twenty of Lancelot's kin,\nand a fearful fray began, for the twenty held together like wild boars,\nnone failing the others, and faced the odds against them without\nyielding a step.\n\nWhen Tristram, who had for the moment withdrawn, beheld their noble\nbearing, he marvelled at their valor, for he saw by their steadfastness\nthat they would die together rather than leave the field.\n\n\"Valiant and noble must be he who has such knights for his kin,\" he\nsaid, meaning Lancelot; \"and likely to be a worthy man is he who leads\nsuch knights as these.\"\n\nThen he rode to the king with the hundred knights and said,--\n\n\"Sir, leave off fighting with these twenty knights. You can win no honor\nfrom them, you being so many and they so few. I can see by their bearing\nthat they will die rather than leave the field, and that will bring you\nno glory. If this one sided fray goes on I will join them and give them\nwhat help I can.\"\n\n\"You shall not do so,\" said the king. \"You speak in knightly courtesy,\nand I will withdraw my men at your request. I know how courage favors\ncourage, and like draws to like.\"\n\nThen the king called off his knights, and withdrew from the combat with\nLancelot's kindred.\n\nMeanwhile Lancelot was watching for an opportunity to meet Tristram and\nhail him as a fellow in heart and hand, but before he could do so\nTristram, Dinadan, and Gouvernail suddenly left the lists and rode into\nthe forest, no man perceiving whither they had gone.\n\nThen Arthur blew to lodging, and gave the prize of the day to the king\nof Northgalis, as the true champion of the tournament was on his side\nand had vanished. Lancelot rode hither and thither, vainly seeking him,\nwhile a cry that might have been heard two miles off went up: \"The\nknight with the black shield has won the day!\"\n\n\"Alas, where has that knight gone!\" said Arthur. \"It is a shame that\nthose in the field have let him thus vanish. With gentleness and\ncourtesy they might have brought him to me at the Castle of Maidens,\nwhere I should have been glad to show him the highest honor.\"\n\nThen he went to the knights of his party and comforted them for their\ndiscomfiture.\n\n\"Be not dismayed, my fair fellows,\" he said, \"though you have lost the\nfield, and many of you are the worst in body and mind. Be of good cheer,\nfor to-morrow we fight again. How the day will go I cannot say, but I\nwill be in the lists with you, and lend you what aid is in my arm.\"\n\nDuring that day's fight Dame Bragwaine had sat near Queen Guenever,\nobserving Tristram's valorous deeds. But when the queen asked her why\nshe had come thither, she would not tell the real reason, but said\nonly,--\n\n\"Madam, I came for no other cause than that my lady, La Belle Isolde,\nsent me to inquire after your welfare.\"\n\nAfter the fray was done she took leave of the queen and rode into the\nforest in search of Sir Tristram. As she went onward she heard a great\ncry, and sent her squire to learn what it might mean. He quickly came to\na forest fountain, and here he found a knight bound to a tree, crying\nout like a madman, while his horse and harness stood by. When he saw the\nsquire, he started so furiously that he broke his bonds, and then ran\nafter him, sword in hand, as if to slay him. The squire at this spurred\nhis horse and rode swiftly back to Dame Bragwaine, whom he told of his\nadventure.\n\nSoon afterwards she found Tristram, who had set up his pavilion in the\nforest, and told him of the incident.\n\n\"Then, on my head, there is mischief here afloat,\" said Tristram; \"some\ngood knight has gone distracted.\"\n\nTaking his horse and sword he rode to the place, and there he found the\nknight complaining woefully.\n\n\"What misfortune has befallen me?\" he lamented; \"I, woeful Palamides,\nwho am defiled with falsehood and treason through Sir Bors and Sir\nHector! Alas, why live I so long?\"\n\nThen he took his sword in his hands, and with many strange signs and\nmovements flung it into the fountain. This done, he wailed bitterly and\nwrung his hands, but at the end he ran to his middle in the water and\nsought again for his sword. Tristram, seeing this, ran upon him and\nclasped him in his arms, fearing he would kill himself.\n\n\"Who are you that holds me so tightly?\" said Palamides.\n\n\"I am a man of this forest, and mean you no harm, but would save you\nfrom injury.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said the knight, \"I shall never win honor where Sir Tristram is.\nWhere he is not, only Lancelot or Lamorak can win from me the prize.\nMore than once he has put me to the worse.\"\n\n\"What would you do if you had him?\"\n\n\"I would fight him and ease my heart. And yet, sooth to say, he is a\ngentle and noble knight.\"\n\n\"Will you go with me to my lodging?\"\n\n\"No; I will go to the king with the hundred knights. He rescued me from\nBors and Hector, or they had slain me treacherously.\"\n\nBut by kind words Tristram got him to his pavilion, where he did what he\ncould to cheer him. But Palamides could not sleep for anguish of soul,\nand rose before dawn and secretly left the tent, making his way to the\npavilions of Gaheris and Sagramour le Desirous, who had been his\ncompanions in the tournament.\n\nNot far had the next day's sun risen in the eastern sky, when King\nArthur bade the heralds blow the call to the lists, and with warlike\nhaste the knights came crowding in to the last day of the well-fought\ntournament.\n\nFiercely began the fray, King Carados and his ally, the king of Ireland,\nbeing smitten from their horses early in the day. Then came in Palamides\nfull of fury, and made sad work among his foes, being known to all by\nhis indented shield.\n\nBut this day King Arthur, as he had promised, rode in shining armor into\nthe field, and fought so valorously that the king of Northgalis and his\nparty had much the worse of the combat.\n\nWhile the fight thus went on in all its fury, Tristram rode in, still\nbearing his black shield. Encountering Palamides, he gave him such a\nthrust that he was driven over his horse's croup. Then King Arthur\ncried,--\n\n\"Knight with the black shield, make ready for me!\"\n\nBut the king met with the same fate from Tristram's spear that Palamides\nhad done, and was hurled to the earth. Seeing this, a rush of the\nknights of his party drove back the foe, and Arthur and Palamides were\nhelped to their saddles again.\n\nAnd now the king, his heart burning with warlike fury, rushed fiercely\non Tristram, and struck him so furious a blow that he was hurled from\nhis horse. As he lay there Palamides spurred upon him in a violent rage,\nand sought to override him as he was rising to his feet. But Tristram\nsaw his purpose and sprang aside. As Palamides rode past he wrathfully\ncaught him by the arm and pulled him from his horse.\n\n\"Sword to sword let it be!\" cried Tristram.\n\nPalamides, nothing loth, drew his weapon, and so fierce a combat began\nin the midst of the arena that lords and ladies alike stood in their\nseats in eagerness to behold it. But at the last Tristram struck\nPalamides three mighty strokes on the helm, crying with each stroke,\n\"Take this for Sir Tristram's sake!\"\n\nSo fierce were the blows that Palamides was felled to the earth. Then\nthe king with the hundred knights dashed forward and brought Tristram\nhis horse. Palamides was horsed at the same time, and with burning ire\nhe rushed upon Tristram, spear in rest, before he could make ready to\nmeet him. But Tristram lightly avoided the spear, and, enraged at his\nrepeated treachery, he caught him with both hands by the neck as his\nhorse bore him past, tore him clean from the saddle, and carried him\nthus ten spears' length across the field before he let him fall.\n\nAt that moment King Arthur spurred upon the Cornish champion, sword in\nhand, and Tristram fixed his spear to meet him, but with a sword-blow\nArthur cut the spear in two, and then dealt him three or four vigorous\nstrokes before he could draw. But at the last Tristram drew his sword\nand assailed the king with equal energy.\n\nThis battle continued not long, for the press of battling knights forced\nthe combatants asunder. Then Tristram rode hither and thither, striking\nand parrying, so that that day he smote down in all eleven of the good\nknights of King Ban's blood, while all in seats and gallery shouted in\nloud acclaim for the mighty warrior with the black shield.\n\nThis cry met the ears of Lancelot, who was engaged in another part of\nthe field. Then he got a spear and came towards the cry. Seeing\nTristram standing without an antagonist, he cried out,--\n\n\"Knight with the black shield, well and worthily have you done; now make\nready to joust with me.\"\n\nWhen Tristram heard this he put his spear in rest, and both with lowered\nheads rode together with lightning speed. Tristram's spear broke into\nfragments on Lancelot's shield; but Lancelot, by ill-fortune, smote him\nin the side, wounding him deeply. He kept his saddle, however, and,\ndrawing his sword, rushed upon Lancelot and gave him three such strokes\nthat fire flew from his helm, and he was forced to lower his head\ntowards his saddle-bow. This done, Tristram left the field, for he felt\nas if he would die. But Dinadan espied him and followed him into the\nforest.\n\nAfter Tristram left the lists, Lancelot fought like a man beside\nhimself, many a noble knight going down before his spear and sword. King\nArthur, seeing against what odds he fought, came quickly to his aid,\nwith the knights of his own kindred, and in the end they won the day\nagainst the king of Northgalis and his followers. So the prize was\nadjudged to Lancelot.\n\nBut neither for king, queen, nor knights would he accept it, and when\nthe cry was raised by the heralds,--\n\n\"Sir Lancelot, Sir Lancelot has won the field this day!\" he bade them\nchange, and cry instead,--\n\n\"The knight with the black shield has won the day.\"\n\nBut the estates and the commonalty cried out together,--\n\n\"Sir Lancelot has won the field, whoever say nay!\"\n\nThis filled Lancelot with shame and anger, and he rode with a lowering\nbrow to King Arthur, to whom he cried,--\n\n\"The knight with the black shield is the hero of the lists. For three\ndays he held against all, till he got that unlucky wound. The prize, I\nsay, is his.\"\n\n\"Sir Tristram it is,\" said the king. \"I heard him shout his name three\ntimes when he gave those mighty strokes to Palamides. Never better nor\nnobler knight took spear or sword in hand. He was hurt indeed; but when\ntwo noble warriors encounter one must have the worst.\"\n\n\"Had I known him I would not have hurt him for all my father's lands,\"\nsaid Lancelot. \"Only lately he risked his life for me, when he fought\nwith thirty knights, with no help but Dinadan. This is poor requital for\nhis noble service.\"\n\nThen they sought Tristram in the forest, but in vain. They found the\nplace where his pavilion had been pitched, but it was gone and all trace\nof its owner vanished. Thereupon they returned to the Castle of Maidens,\nwhere for three days was held high feast and frolic, and where all who\ncame were warmly welcomed by King Arthur and Queen Guenever.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE QUEST OF THE TEN KNIGHTS.\n\n\nWhen Tristram was well within the forest shades, he alighted and unlaced\nhis armor and sought to stanch his wound. But so pale did he become that\nDinadan thought he was like to die.\n\n\"Never dread thee, Dinadan,\" said Tristram, cheerily, \"for I am heart\nwhole, and of this wound I shall soon be healed, by God's mercy.\"\n\nAs they sat conversing Dinadan saw at a distance Sir Palamides, who was\nriding straight upon them, with seeming evil intent. Dinadan hastily bid\nTristram to withdraw, and offered himself to meet the Saracen and take\nthe chance of life and death with him.\n\n\"I thank you, Sir Dinadan, for your good will,\" said Tristram, \"but you\nshall see that I am able to handle him.\"\n\nHe thereupon hastily armed himself, and, mounting his horse, rode to\nmeet Palamides. Then a challenge to joust passed between them, and they\nrode together. But Tristram kept his seat and Palamides got a grievous\nfall, and lay on the earth like one dead.\n\nLeaving him there with a comrade, Tristram and Dinadan rode on, and\nobtained lodging for that night at the castle of an old knight, who had\nfive sons at the tournament.\n\nAs for Palamides, when he recovered from his swoon, he well-nigh lost\nhis wits through sheer vexation. He rode headlong forward, wild with\nrage, and meeting a deep stream sought to make his horse leap it. But\nthe horse fell in and was drowned, and the knight himself reached shore\nonly by the barest chance.\n\nNow, mad with chagrin, he flung off his armor, and sat roaring and\ncrying like a man distracted. As he sat there, a damsel passed by, who\non seeing his distressful state sought to comfort him, but in vain. Then\nshe rode on till she came to the old knight's castle, where Tristram\nwas, and told how she had met a mad knight in the forest.\n\n\"What shield did he bear?\" asked Tristram.\n\n\"It was indented with black and white,\" answered the damsel.\n\n\"That was Palamides. The poor fellow has lost his wits through his bad\nluck. I beg that you bring him to your castle, Sir Darras.\"\n\nThis the old knight did, for the frenzy of the Saracen had now passed,\nand he readily accompanied him. On reaching the castle he looked\ncuriously at Tristram, whom he felt sure he had seen before, but could\nnot place him in his mind. But his anger against his fortunate rival\ncontinued, and he boasted proudly to Dinadan of what he would do when he\nmet that fellow Tristram.\n\n\"It seems to me,\" answered Dinadan, \"that you met him not long since,\nand got little good of him. Why did you not hold him when you had him in\nyour hands? You were too easy with the fellow not to pummel him when you\nhad so fine an opportunity.\"\n\nThis scornful reply silenced the boastful Saracen, who fell into an\nangry moodiness.\n\nMeanwhile King Arthur was sore at heart at the disappearance of\nTristram, and spoke in reproach to Lancelot as being the cause of his\nloss.\n\n\"My liege Arthur,\" answered Lancelot, \"you do me ill justice in this.\nWhen men are hot in battle they may well hurt their friends as well as\ntheir foes. As for Tristram, there is no man living whom I would rather\nhelp. If you desire, I will make one of ten knights who will go in\nsearch of him, and not rest two nights in the same place for a year\nuntil we find him.\"\n\nThis offer pleased the king, who quickly chose nine other knights for\nthe quest, and made them all swear upon the Scriptures to do as Lancelot\nhad proposed.\n\nWith dawn of the next day these ten knights armed themselves, and rode\nfrom the Castle of Maidens, continuing in company until they came to a\nroadside cross, from which ran out four highways. Here they separated\ninto four parties, each of which followed one of the highways. And far\nand wide they rode through field and forest for many days in quest of\nthe brave knight of Cornwall.\n\nOf them all, Sir Lucan, the butler, came nearest to good fortune, for\nchance brought him to the castle of the old knight, Sir Darras. Here he\nasked harbor, sending in his name by the porter.\n\n\"He shall not rest here unless he first joust with me,\" cried Sir\nDaname, the old knight's nephew. \"Bid him make ready, for he must earn\nhis lodging.\"\n\nBut better had Daname held his peace, for Lucan smote him over his\nhorse's croup, and followed him hotly when he fled into the castle.\n\n\"This is a shame to our host,\" said Dinadan. \"Let me try conclusions\nwith our doughty butler. It will not do to let him take our castle by\nstorm.\"\n\nHe thereupon rode against Lucan, and fared still worse, for he got for\nhis pains a spear thrust through the thigh. Then Tristram, in anger,\narmed and followed Lucan, who had ridden on, in search of a more\npeaceful place of shelter. Within a mile he overtook him and bade him\nturn and joust. Nothing loth, Lucan did so, and in his turn got a sore\nfall, though he little dreamed that he had been overthrown by the knight\nof his quest. At this juncture another of the ten knights, Sir Uwaine,\ncame up, and seeing Sir Lucan's misfortune, rode furiously against the\nvictor. His luck was no better, for he was hurled to the ground with a\nsorely wounded side. Having thus revenged his comrades, Tristram\nreturned to the castle.\n\nMeanwhile a damsel from the Castle of Maidens had come thither, and told\nSir Darras a woeful story. Of his five sons, three had been slain at the\ntournament, and the other two were dangerously wounded, all this having\nbeen done by the knight of the black shield. Deep grief filled the old\nknight's heart at this sad tale. But his sorrow turned to rage when the\ndamsel was shown Tristram's shield and recognized it as that of the\nchampion of the tournament.\n\n\"So,\" cried the old knight in a hot passion. \"I am harboring here my\nsons' murderer, and troubling myself to give him noble cheer. By my\nfather's grave, I will revenge my boys' death on him and his\ncompanions.\"\n\nThen in grief and rage he ordered his knights and servants to seize\nTristram, Dinadan, and Palamides, and put them in a strong dungeon he\nhad in the keep of his castle.\n\nThis was done before the three knights could defend themselves, and for\nmany days they lay in this dismal cell, until Tristram grew so sick from\nhis wound and confinement that he came near to dying. While they lay\nthus in durance vile some knights of Darras's kindred came to the\ncastle, and on hearing the story wished to kill the captives, but this\nthe old knight would not permit, though he determined to hold them close\nprisoners. So deep in time grew Tristram's sickness that his mind nearly\nfailed him, and he was ready to slay himself for pain and grief.\nPalamides gave him what aid he could, though all the time he spoke of\nhis hatred to Tristram, the Cornishman, and of the revenge he yet hoped\nto have. To this Tristram made no reply, but smiled quietly.\n\nMeanwhile the ten knights continued their fruitless search, some here,\nsome there, while one of them, Gaheris, nephew to King Arthur, made his\nway to King Mark's court, where he was well received.\n\nAs they sat at table together the king asked his guest what tidings he\nbrought from Arthur's realm of Logris.\n\n\"Sir,\" he answered, \"King Arthur still reigns nobly, and he lately\npresided at a grand tournament where fought many of the noblest knights\nof the kingdom. But best of them all was a valiant knight who bore a\nblack shield, and who kept the lordship of the lists for three days.\"\n\n\"Then by my crown it must have been Lancelot, or Palamides the Pagan.\"\n\n\"Not so. These knights were against him of the black shield.\"\n\n\"Was it Sir Tristram?\" asked the king.\n\n\"In sooth you have it now.\"\n\nThe king held down his head at this, but La Belle Isolde, who was at the\nfeast, heard it with great secret joy, and her love for Tristram grew\nwarmer in her soul.\n\nBut King Mark nourished treason in his heart, and sought within his\nbrain some device to do dishonor to Tristram and to Arthur's knights.\nSoon afterward Uwaine came to his court and challenged any knight of\nCornwall to meet him in the lists. Two of these, Andred, and Dinas the\nseneschal, accepted the challenge, but both were overthrown. Then King\nMark in a fury cried out against his knights, and Gaheris, as his guest,\nproffered to meet the champion. But when Uwaine saw his shield, he knew\nhim for his own cousin, and refused to joust with him, reproving him for\nbreaking his oath of fellowship as a Knight of the Round Table.\n\nThis reproof cut Gaheris deeply, and returning to King Mark he took his\nleave of him and his court, saying,--\n\n\"Sir king, this I must say, that you did a foul shame to yourself and\nyour kingdom when you banished Sir Tristram. Had he stayed here you\nwould not have wanted a champion.\"\n\nAll this added to the king's rage, and arming himself he waylaid Uwaine\nat a secret place as he was passing unawares, and ran him through the\nbody. But before he could kill him as he designed, Kay the seneschal\ncame that way and flew to the aid of the wounded knight, while King Mark\nrode in dastardly haste away. Kay sought to learn from Uwaine who had\nhurt him, but this he was not able to tell.\n\nHe then bore him to a neighboring abbey of the black cross, where he\nleft him in the care of the monks. Not far had he ridden from there when\nhe met King Mark, who accosted him courteously, and bade him, if he\nsought an adventure, to ride into the forest of Morris, where he would\nfind one to try his prowess.\n\n\"I will prove what it is worth,\" said Kay, and bade adieu to the king.\n\nA mile or two further on he met Gaheris, who, learning his errand,\nwarned him against doing anything at the suggestion of King Mark, who\nmeant but treachery and harm.\n\n\"Come with me, then,\" said Kay. \"Adventures are not so abundant, and we\ntwo should be able to match the wiles of this dastard king.\"\n\n\"I shall not fail you,\" said Gaheris.\n\nInto the forest they then rode till they came to the edge of a little\nlake, known as the Perilous Lake, and here they waited under the\nwoodland shadows.\n\nIt was now night, but the moon rode high in the skies, and flung its\nsilvery rays wide over the forest glade. As they stood thus, there rode\ninto the moonlit opening a knight all in black armor and on a great\nblack horse, who tilted against Sir Kay. The seneschal's horse was\nsmaller than that of the stranger, and was overthrown by the shock,\nfalling upon its rider, whom it bruised severely.\n\nDuring this encounter Gaheris had remained hidden under the woodland\nshadows. He now cried sternly,--\n\n\"Knight, sit thou fast in thy saddle, for I will revenge my fellow;\" and\nrode against the black knight with such fury that he was flung from his\nhorse. Then he turned to a companion of the black knight, who now\nappeared, and hurled him to the earth so violently that he came near to\nbreaking his neck in the fall.\n\nLeaping from his horse and helping Kay to his feet, Gaheris sternly bade\nhis antagonists to tell their names or they should die.\n\n\"Beware what you do,\" said the second knight. \"This is King Mark of\nCornwall, and I am his cousin Andred.\"\n\n\"You are traitors both,\" cried Gaheris, in a fury, \"and have laid this\nambush for us. It were a pity to let such craven rascals live.\"\n\n\"Spare my life,\" prayed the king, \"and I will make full amends.\"\n\n\"You a king; and dealing in treachery!\" cried Gaheris. \"You have lived\nlong enough.\"\n\nWith this he struck fiercely at King Mark with his sword, while the\ndastard king cowered under his shield. Kay attacked Andred at the same\ntime.\n\nKing Mark now flung himself on his knees before Gaheris and swore on the\ncross of his sword never while he lived to do aught against errant\nknights. And he also swore to be a friend unto Sir Tristram if he should\ncome into Cornwall.\n\nWith this they let them go, though Kay was eager to slay Andred, for his\ndeeds of treachery against his cousin Tristram. The two knights now rode\nout of the kingdom of Cornwall, and soon after met Lancelot, who asked\nthem what tidings they brought from King Mark's country, and if they had\nlearned aught of Tristram. They answered that they had not, and told him\nof their adventure, at which Lancelot smiled.\n\n\"You will find it hard to take out of the flesh that which is bred in\nthe bone,\" he said.\n\nThen Lancelot, Kay, and Gaheris rode together to seek Tristram in the\ncountry of Surluse, not dreaming that he lay in prison not many miles\nfrom the Castle of Maidens.\n\nLeaving them to pursue their useless journey, we must return to the\nthree prisoners. Tristram still continued sick almost unto death, while\nPalamides, while giving him daily care, continued to rail loudly against\nhim and to boast of how he would yet deal with him. Of this idle\nboasting Dinadan in time had more than he could bear, and broke out\nangrily on the Saracen.\n\n\"I doubt if you would do him harm if he were here before you,\" he said;\n\"for if a wolf and a sheep were together in prison the wolf would leave\nthe sheep in peace. As for Sir Tristram, against whom you rail like a\nscold, here he lies before you. Now do your worst upon him, Sir\nSaracen, while he is too sick to defend himself.\"\n\nSurprise and shame overcame Palamides at this announcement, and he\ndropped his head in confusion.\n\n\"I have heard somewhat too much of your ill will against me;\" said\nTristram, \"but shall let it pass at present, for we are in more danger\nhere from the lord of this place than from each other.\"\n\nAs they spoke, a damsel brought them their noontide meal, and said as\nshe gave it them,--\n\n\"Be of good cheer, sir knights, for you are in no peril of your lives.\nSo much I heard my lord, Sir Darras, say this morning.\"\n\n\"So far your news is good,\" cried Dinadan. \"Good for two of us at least,\nfor this good knight promises to die without waiting for the\nexecutioner.\"\n\nThe damsel looked upon Tristram, and observing the thinness of his face\nand hands, went and told Sir Darras of what she had heard and seen.\n\n\"That must not be,\" cried the knight. \"God defend that I should suffer\nthose who came to me for succor to die in my prison. Bring them hither.\"\n\nThen Tristram was brought to the castle hall on his couch, with the\nother two knights beside him.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" said the castle lord, \"I am sorry for your sickness, and\nwould not have so noble a knight as you die in prison, though I owe to\nyou the death of three of my sons.\"\n\n\"As for that,\" said Tristram, \"it was in fair fight, and if they were my\nnext of kin I could not have done otherwise. If I had slain them by\ntreachery, I would have deserved death at your hands.\"\n\n\"You acted knightly, and for that reason I could not put you to death,\"\nsaid Sir Darras. \"You and your fellows shall go at full liberty, with\nyour horses and armor, on this covenant, that you will be a good friend\nto my two sons who are still living, and that you tell me your name.\"\n\n\"My name is Tristram de Lyonesse. I was born in Cornwall, and am nephew\nto King Mark. And I promise you by the faith of my body that while I\nlive I shall be a friend to you and your sons, for what you have done to\nus was but by force of nature.\"\n\n\"If you be the good knight Sir Tristram, I am sorry to have held you in\ndurance, and thank you for your proffer of service. But you must stay\nwith me still till you are well and strong.\"\n\nTo this Tristram agreed, and staid many more days with the old knight,\ngrowing well rapidly under the healing influence of hope and liberty.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE KNIGHT WITH THE COVERED SHIELD.\n\n\nWhen Tristram's strength had all come back again he took his leave of\nSir Darras, and rode away with Palamides and Dinadan. Soon they came to\na cross-way, and here Tristram said,--\n\n\"Good sirs, let us here take each his own road, and many fair adventures\nmay come to us all.\"\n\nTo this they agreed, and Tristram rode on along the main highway, chance\nbringing him that night to a castle in which was Queen Morgan le Fay.\nHere he was given lodging and good cheer, but when he was ready to\ndepart the next day the queen said to him,--\n\n\"Sir knight, it is one thing to enter this castle and another to leave\nit. You will not depart so easily as you came. Know that you are a\nprisoner.\"\n\n\"God forfend,\" said Tristram. \"I am just released from prison, and have\nhad enough of that regimen.\"\n\n\"You shall stay here, nevertheless, till I learn who you are and whence\nyou came, but I promise you no hard quarters.\"\n\nShe set him, therefore, by her side at table, and made so much of him\nthat a knight who loved her clutched his sword-hilt in jealous rage,\nhalf disposed to rush upon Tristram and run him through unawares.\n\n\"Tell me your name,\" said the queen, at the end of the repast, \"and you\nshall depart when you will.\"\n\n\"Thanks for your promise, fair lady. My name is Tristram de Lyonesse.\"\n\n\"Then I am sorry I made so hasty a promise. But I will hold to my word\nif you will engage to bear a shield which I shall give you to the Castle\nof the Hard Rock, where King Arthur has announced that a tournament is\nto be held. I have heard of your deeds of arms at the Castle of Maidens,\nand hope you will do as much for me at this new tournament.\"\n\n\"Let me see the shield that you wish me to bear,\" asked Tristram.\n\nSo the shield was brought. It was golden on its face, and on it was\npainted a king and queen, with a knight standing above them with a foot\non the head of each.\n\n\"This is a fair shield,\" said Tristram; \"but what signifies the device?\"\n\n\"It signifies King Arthur and Queen Guenever,\" said Morgan, \"and a\nknight that holds them both in bondage.\"\n\n\"And who is the knight?\"\n\n\"That you shall not know at present.\"\n\nSo Tristram took the shield, not dreaming that it was intended as a\nrebuke to Sir Lancelot, and promised to bear it at the tournament.\n\nBut as he rode away he was followed by Sir Hemison, the knight who loved\nMorgan le Fay, and whose jealous anger had been roused. Overtaking\nTristram before he had gone far, he rushed upon him at the speed of his\nhorse, crying, in a voice of thunder,--\n\n\"Sir knight, defend yourself!\"\n\nThis Tristram did with good effect, for his assailant's spear broke upon\nhis body, while he thrust him through and hurled him to the earth with a\nmortal wound.\n\n\"Fool, you have brought it on yourself,\" said Tristram. \"It is not my\nfault if you got what you designed for me.\"\n\nThen he rode on, and left the wounded knight to the care of his squire,\nwho removed his helmet, and asked if his life was in any danger.\n\n\"There is little life in me,\" said the knight, \"and that is ebbing fast.\nTherefore help me to my saddle, and mount behind me and hold me on so\nthat I shall not fall, and so bring me to Queen Morgan le Fay. For deep\ndraughts of death draw to my heart, and I would fain speak to her before\nI die.\"\n\nThe squire did as commanded, and brought his bleeding master to the\ncastle, but he died as he entered the hall, falling lifeless at the feet\nof the lady of his love. Much she wept and great lamentation she made\nfor his untimely fate, and buried him in a stately tomb, on which was\nwritten, \"Here lieth Sir Hemison, slain by the hands of Tristram de\nLyonesse.\"\n\nOn the next day Tristram arrived at the castle of Roche-dure, where he\nsaw the lists prepared for the tournament, with gay pennons flying,\nwhile full five hundred tents were pitched in a fair meadow by the\ngates. Over the seats of honor were silken canopies, that shaded noble\nlords and beautiful ladies clad in gay apparel. Within the lists the\nkings of Scotland and Ireland held out strongly against King Arthur's\nknights, and dread was the noise and turmoil within.\n\nTristram at once joined in the fray, and smote down many knights; King\nArthur marvelling the while at the device on his shield, while Guenever\ngrew heavy at heart, for well she guessed its meaning.\n\nEver King Arthur's eye was on that shield, and much he wondered who the\nknight could be, for he had heard that Tristram was in Brittany, and he\nknew that Lancelot was in quest of him, while he knew no other knight of\nequal prowess.\n\nAs the combat went on, Arthur's knights drove back their antagonists,\nwho began to withdraw from the field. On seeing this the king determined\nthat the knight with the strange shield should not escape, so he armed\nand called Sir Uwaine, entering the lists with him and riding up to\nconfront the unknown knight.\n\n\"Sir stranger,\" said the king, \"before we fight, I require you to tell\nme where you got that shield.\"\n\n\"I had it from Morgan le Fay, sister to King Arthur,\" answered Tristram.\n\n\"Then, if you are worthy to bear it, you are able to tell me its\nmeaning.\"\n\n\"That I cannot,\" answered the knight. \"It was given me by Queen Morgan,\nnot through any asking of mine. She told me not what it signified, nor\ndo I know, but I promised to bear it worthily.\"\n\n\"In truth,\" said Arthur, \"no knight should bear arms he cannot\nunderstand. But at least you will tell me your name.\"\n\n\"To what intent?\" asked Tristram.\n\n\"Simply that I wish to know.\"\n\n\"That is small reason. I decline to tell you.\"\n\n\"If not, we must do battle together.\"\n\n\"What!\" cried Tristram; \"you will fight me on so small a cause? My name\nis my own, to be given or withheld as I will. It is not honorable for a\nfresh knight to challenge me to battle, after all I have done this day.\nBut if you think you have me at advantage, you may find that I am able\nto hold my own.\"\n\nThen they put their spears in rest and furiously dashed together across\nthe lists. But King Arthur's spear shivered to splinters on Tristram's\nshield, while he himself got such a blow from the Cornish knight that\nhorse and man fell headlong to the earth, the king with a dangerous\nwound in the side.\n\nWhen Uwaine saw this he reined back his horse in haste, and crying\nloudly, \"Knight, defend thyself!\" he rode furiously on Tristram. But man\nfared no better than master. Uwaine was borne out of his saddle to the\nearth, while Tristram sat unmoved.\n\nThen Tristram wheeled his horse and said,--\n\n\"Fair sirs, I had no need to joust with you, for I have done enough\nto-day; but you forced me to it.\"\n\n\"We have had what we deserved,\" answered Arthur. \"Yet I would fain know\nyour name, and would further learn if that device on your shield is\nintended as an insult to King Arthur.\"\n\n\"That you must ask Morgan le Fay: she alone knows. But report says she\ndoes not love her royal brother over much. Yet she told me not what it\nmeans, and I have borne it at her command. As for my name, it shall be\nknown when I will.\"\n\nSo Tristram departed, and rode far over hill and dale, everywhere\nseeking for Lancelot, with whom he in his heart wished to make\nfellowship. As he went on he came by a forest, on the edge of which\nstood a tall tower, and in front of it a fair level meadow. And here he\nsaw one knight fighting against ten, and bearing himself so well that it\nseemed marvellous that a single man could hold his own so bravely\nagainst such odds. He had slain half their horses, and unhorsed the\nremaining knights, so that their chargers ran free in the field. The ten\nhad then assailed him on foot, and he was bearing up bravely against\nthem.\n\n\"Cease that battle!\" cried Tristram, loudly, as he came up. \"Ten to one\nare cowards' odds.\" And as he came nearer he saw by his shield that the\none knight was Sir Palamides.\n\n\"You would be wise not to meddle,\" said the leader of the ten, who was\nthe villanous knight called Breuse San Pit\u00e9. \"Go your way while your\nskin is whole. As for this knight, he is our prey.\"\n\n\"Say you so!\" cried Tristram. \"There may be two words to that.\"\n\nAs he spoke he sprang from his horse, lest they should kill it, and\nattacked them on foot with such fury that with every stroke a knight\nfell before him.\n\nThis was more than they had bargained for, and Breuse fled hastily to\nthe tower, followed by all that were able, while Tristram hotly pursued.\nBut they quickly closed and barred the door, shutting him out. When he\nsaw this he returned to Palamides, whom he found sitting under a tree,\nsorely wounded.\n\n\"Thanks for your timely aid,\" said the Saracen. \"You have saved my\nlife.\"\n\n\"What is your name?\" asked Tristram.\n\n\"It is Sir Palamides.\"\n\n\"Then have I saved my greatest enemy; and I here challenge you to\nbattle.\"\n\n\"What is your name?\" asked Palamides.\n\n\"I am Tristram of Lyonesse.\"\n\n\"My enemy indeed! yet I owe you thanks for your rescue, nor am I in\ncondition for jousting. But I desire nothing better than to meet you in\nbattle. If you are as eager for it, fix day and place, and I will be\nthere.\"\n\n\"Well said,\" answered Tristram. \"Let it be in the meadow by the river at\nCamelot, there where Merlin set the tombstone.\"\n\n\"Agreed. I shall not fail you.\"\n\n\"How came you in battle with these ten dastards?\"\n\n\"The chance of journeying brought me into this forest, where I saw a\ndead knight with a lady weeping beside him. I asked her who slew her\nlord, and she told me it was the most villanous knight in the world,\nnamed Breuse Sans Pit\u00e9. I then took her on my horse and promised to see\nthat her lord was properly interred. But as I passed by this tower its\nrascally owner suddenly rode from the gate and struck me unawares so\nhard that I fell from my horse. Before I could recover he killed the\nlady. It was thus the battle began, at which you arrived in good time.\"\n\n\"It is not safe for you to stay here,\" said Tristram. \"That fellow is\nout of our reach for the present, but you are not in condition to meet\nhim again.\"\n\nSo they mounted and rode into the forest, where they soon came to a\nsparkling fountain, whose clear water bubbled freshly from the ground.\nHere they alighted and refreshed themselves.\n\nAs they did so Tristram's horse neighed loudly and was answered by\nanother horse near by. They mounted and rode towards the sound, and\nquickly came in sight of a great war-horse tied to a tree. Under an\nadjoining tree lay a knight asleep, in full armor, save that his helmet\nwas placed under his head for a pillow.\n\n\"A stout-looking fellow that,\" said Tristram. \"What shall we do?\"\n\n\"Awake him,\" said Palamides.\n\nTristram did so, stirring him with the butt of his spear.\n\nBut they had better have let him sleep, for he sprang angrily to his\nfeet, put on his helmet in haste, and mounting his war-horse seized his\nspear. Without a word he spurred upon Tristram and struck him such a\nblow as to fling him from his saddle to the earth. Then he galloped back\nand came hurling upon Palamides, whom he served in the same rude\nfashion. Leaving them laying there, he turned his horse and rode\nleisurely away.\n\nWhen the two overthrown knights gained their feet again, they looked at\none another with faces of shame and anger.\n\n\"Well, what now?\" asked Tristram. \"That is the worst waking I ever did\nin my life. By my troth, I did not fancy there was a knight in Arthur's\nrealm that could have served you and me such a trick. Whatever you do, I\nam going after this woodland champion to have a fairer trial.\"\n\n\"So would I were I well,\" said Palamides. \"But I am so hurt that I must\nseek rest with a friend of mine near by.\"\n\n\"I can trust you to meet me at the place appointed?\"\n\n\"I have cause to have more doubt of you than you of me; for if you\nfollow this strong knight you may not escape with whole bones from the\nadventure. I wish you success.\"\n\n\"And I wish you health.\"\n\nWith these words they parted, each riding his own way.\n\nBut news came to Tristram as he rode on that would have turned many a\nknight from that adventure. For the first day he found a dead knight and\na lady weeping over him, who said that her lord had jousted with a\nstrong champion, who had run him through. On the third day he met the\ngood knights Gawaine and Bleoberis, both wounded, who said they had been\nso served by a knight with a covered shield.\n\n\"He treated me and Palamides the same way,\" said Tristram, \"and I am on\nhis track to repay him.\"\n\n\"By my faith, you had best turn back,\" said Gawaine.\n\n\"By my head, I will not,\" said Tristram, and he rode on in pursuit.\n\nThe next day he met Kay the seneschal and Dinadan in a meadow.\n\n\"What tidings have you?\" he asked.\n\n\"Not good,\" they answered.\n\n\"Tell me what they are. I ride in search of a knight.\"\n\n\"What cognizance does he bear?\"\n\n\"He carries a shield covered by a cloth.\"\n\n\"Then you are not far from him,\" said Kay. \"We lodged last night in a\nwidow's house, and that knight sought the same lodging. And when he\nknew we were of Arthur's court he spoke villanous things of the king,\nand worse of Queen Guenever. The next day we waged battle with him for\nthis insult. But at the first encounter he flung me from my horse with a\nsore hurt. And when Dinadan here saw me down he showed more prudence\nthan valor, for he fled to save his skin.\"\n\nAfter some further words Tristram rode on; but days passed and he found\nnot the knight with the covered shield, though he heard more tales of\nhis irresistible prowess. Then, finding that his armor was bruised and\nbroken with long use, he sent Gouvernail, his squire, to a city near by\nto bring him fresh apparel, and rested at a priory till he came.\n\nOn Gouvernail's return he donned his new armor, and turned his horse's\nhead towards Camelot, seeking the point where he had engaged to do\nbattle with Palamides. This was at the tomb of Lanceor, son of the king\nof Ireland, who had been slain by Balin, and whose lady Columbe had\nslain herself, as we have already told. His tomb had been set up near\nthe river by Merlin, and it had become a place of pilgrimage for true\nlovers and faithful wedded pairs.\n\nTristram did not get there without more battling, for the roads around\nCamelot then swarmed with errant knights, eager to show their strength.\nYet he was none the worse for these encounters when he rode up to the\ntomb where he hoped to find Palamides in waiting. But instead of the\nSaracen he saw a knight approaching in white armor, who bore a shield\ncovered with a dark cloth.\n\n\"Sir knight, you are welcome; none more so,\" cried Tristram. \"I have\nsought you far and near, and have an ugly fall to repay you for; and\nalso owe you a lesson for your revilement of King Arthur and his fair\nqueen.\"\n\n\"Shorter words and longer deeds would serve better,\" said the stranger\nknight. \"Make ready, my good fellow, if one fall is not enough to\nsatisfy you.\"\n\nThen they rode apart to a fair distance, and putting spurs to their\nhorses hurtled together with headlong speed. So fiercely met they,\nindeed, that horses and knights together went toppling to the earth,\nboth those brave warriors kissing the dust.\n\nWith all haste they regained their feet, put their shields before them,\nand struck at each other with bright swords like men of might. The\nbattle that followed was such a one as that ground had never seen, for\nthose two knights seemed rather giants than men. For four hours they\nkept up the combat, neither speaking a word, till at the end their armor\nwas hewn off in many places, and blood had flowed from their wounds till\nthe grass was turned from green to crimson.\n\nThe squires looked on in wonder, and boasted of the might of their\nlords, though their hearts grew heavy when they saw the bright swords so\nreddened with blood.\n\nAt last the unknown knight rested on his weapon, and said,--\n\n\"Sir stranger, you are the best fighter I ever saw in armor. I would\nknow you better, and beg to learn your name.\"\n\n\"I care not to tell it,\" said Tristram.\n\n\"Why not? I never make my name a secret.\"\n\n\"Then pray tell it, for I would give much to know the name of the\nstoutest knight I ever drew sword upon.\"\n\n\"Fair sir, my name is Lancelot du Lake.\"\n\n\"Alas, can this be so? Have I fought thus against the man I love best in\nthe world?\"\n\n\"Then who are you?\"\n\n\"My name is Tristram de Lyonesse.\"\n\n\"Oh, what strange chance is this! Take my sword, Sir Tristram, for you\nhave earned it well.\"\n\nAnd he knelt and yielded Tristram his sword.\n\nTristram in turn knelt and yielded up his. And thus with exchange of\nwords they gave each other the degree of brotherhood. Then they sat\ntogether on the stone, and took off their helms to cool their heated\nfaces, and kissed each other with brotherly ardor.\n\nWhen they had rested and conversed long in the most loving amity, and\ntheir squires had salved and bandaged their wounds, they mounted and\nrode towards Camelot.\n\nNear the gates of the city they met Gawaine and Gaheris, who were\nsetting out in search of Tristram, having promised King Arthur never to\nreturn till they could bring the valiant knight of Cornwall with them.\n\n\"Return, then, for your quest is done,\" said Lancelot. \"I have found Sir\nTristram, and here he is in person.\"\n\n\"Then, by my life, you are heartily welcome!\" cried Gawaine. \"You have\neased me from great labor, and there are ten others seeking you. Why\ncame you hither of yourself?\"\n\n\"I had a challenge with Sir Palamides to do battle with him at Lanceor's\ntomb this day, and I know not why he has failed me. By lucky chance my\nlord Lancelot and I met there, and well have we tried each other's\nstrength.\"\n\nThus conversing they came to the court, where King Arthur, when he\nlearned the name of Lancelot's companion, was filled with joy. Taking\nTristram warmly by both hands, he welcomed him to Camelot.\n\n\"There is no other man in the world whom I would so gladly have here,\"\nhe said. \"Much have you been sought for since you left the tournament,\nbut in vain. I would fain learn your adventures.\"\n\nThese Tristram told, and the king was amazed when he learned that it was\nhe who had overthrown him at the Castle of Hard Rock. Then he told of\nhis pursuit of the knight with the covered shield, and of the deeds he\nhad done.\n\n\"By our faith,\" cried Gawaine, Bleoberis, and Kay, \"we can testify to\nthat, for he left us all on the ground.\"\n\n\"Aha! who could this strong fellow have been?\" asked Arthur. \"Did any of\nyou know him?\"\n\nThey all declared that he was a stranger to them, though Tristram kept\nsilent.\n\n\"If you know not, I do; it was Lancelot or none,\" cried the king.\n\n\"In faith, I fancy so,\" said Tristram, \"for I found him to-day, and we\nhad a four hours' fight together, before each found out the other.\"\n\n\"So,\" they all cried, \"it is he who has beguiled us with his covered\nshield!\"\n\n\"You say truly,\" answered Lancelot, with a smile. \"And I called myself\nan enemy of King Arthur so that none should suspect me. I was in search\nof sport.\"\n\n\"That is an old trick of yours,\" said Arthur.\n\n\"One must go in disguise in these days, or go untried,\" laughed\nLancelot.\n\nThen Queen Guenever, and many ladies of the court, learning that\nTristram was there, came and bade him welcome, ladies and knights\ntogether crying, \"Welcome, Sir Tristram! welcome to Camelot!\"\n\n\"Welcome, indeed,\" said Arthur, \"to one of the best and gentlest knights\nof the world, and the man of highest esteem. For of all modes of\nhunting, you bear the prize, and of all bugle hunting calls you are the\norigin, and all the terms of hunting and hawking began with you; on all\ninstruments of music no man surpasses you: therefore, you are trebly\nwelcome to this court. And here I pray you to grant me a boon.\"\n\n\"I am at your command,\" said Tristram.\n\n\"It is that you abide in my court, and be one of my knights.\"\n\n\"That I am loath to do, for I have work laid out elsewhere.\"\n\n\"Yet you have passed your word. You shall not say me nay.\"\n\n\"Then be it as you will,\" said Tristram.\n\n[Illustration: ADMISSION OF SIR TRISTRAM TO THE KING OF THE ROUND\nTABLE.]\n\nThese words spoken, Arthur took Tristram by the hand and led him to the\nRound Table, going with him round its circle, and looking into every\nseat that lacked a knight. When at length he came to that in which Sir\nMarhaus had formerly sat, he saw there engraved in letters of gold,\n\"This is the seat of the noble knight Sir Tristram.\"\n\nThen Arthur made Tristram a Knight of the Round Table with noble\nceremony and great pomp, and with feasts that lasted many days. Glad\nwere all there to have a knight of such prowess and high esteem in their\ncompany, and many friends Tristram made among his new brothers-in-arms.\n\nBut chief of all these was Lancelot, and for days together Lancelot and\nTristram kept genial company, while their brotherhood gave joy to all,\nand most of all to King Arthur, who felt that the glory of his reign was\nnow at its height, and that two such knights as these would spread the\nrenown of the Round Table throughout the world.\n\nEND OF VOL. I.\n\n\n\n\n * * * * *\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\nFifteen spelling errors have been corrected as follows:\n\n Pg. 38 \"Tintagel\" to \"Tintagil\" (15) (the Duke of Tintagil)\n\n Pg. 74 \"churchyard\" to \"church-yard\" (4) (near a church-yard)\n\n Pg. 114 \"way-side\" to \"wayside\" (2) (they reached a wayside)\n\n Pg. 166 \"eat\" to \"ate\" (of which Kay ate heartily)\n\n Pg. 200 \"vassels\" to \"vassals\" (4) (dead or my vassals)\n\n Pg. 206 \"swept\" to \"wept\" (wept for pity.)\n\n Pg. 212 \"therefor\" to \"therefore\" (24) (and sureties therefore.\")\n\n Pg. 223 \"Badgemagus\" to \"Bagdemagus\" (11) (King Bagdemagus)\n\n Pg. 246 \"togther\" to \"together\" (together in furious)\n\n Pg. 281 \"threatingly\" to \"threateningly\" (shook the sword\n threateningly)\n\n Pg. 284 \"say\" to \"saw\" (when he saw him coming)\n\n Pg. 287 \"beleagured\" to \"beleaguered\" (a hundred beleaguered him)\n\n Pg. 291 \"is\" to \"if\" (seemed as if she returned his love)\n\n Pg. 298 \"Taulurd\" to \"Taulard\" (2) (brother to that Taulard)\n\n Pg. 336 \"wellnigh\" to \"well-nigh\" (2) (he well-nigh lost his wits)\n\nThe following list of similar words appear in the original text and\nhave been retained.\n\n \"Percival\" (p 12) and \"Percivale\" (elsewhere)\n\n \"lady Colombe\" (p 65) and \"lady Columbe\" (p 355)\n\n \"gerfalcon\" (p 135) and \"jerfalcon\" (p 221)\n\n \"Sagramore\" and \"Sagramour\"\n\n \"villain\" (17) and \"villanous\" (8) and villany (3)","title":"Historic Tales: The Romance of Reality. Vol. 13 (of 15), King Arthur (1)","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":94034}