{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_32292/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_32292","id":"gutenberg_32292","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/32292","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":"Produced by Christine Aldridge and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Notes:\n\n1. Passages in italics are surrounded by _underscores_.\n\n2. Minor punctuation errors have been corrected.\n\n3. A complete list of spelling corrections and notations is located at\n   the end of this text.\n\n\n\n\n                           _Edition d'Elite_\n\n\n                            Historical Tales\n\n                         The Romance of Reality\n\n                                   By\n\n                             CHARLES MORRIS\n\n\n      _Author of \"Half-Hours with the Best American Authors,\" \"Tales\n                       from the Dramatists,\" etc._\n\n\n                           IN FIFTEEN VOLUMES\n\n                               Volume XIV\n\n\n                               King Arthur\n\n                                    2\n\n\n                         J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY\n\n                         PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON\n\n\n               Copyright, 1891, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.\n\n               Copyright, 1904, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.\n\n               Copyright, 1908, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.\n\n\n[Illustration: CONWAY CASTLE.]\n\n\n\n\n                          CONTENTS TO VOLUME II.\n\n\n                                BOOK VIII.\n\n                    TRISTRAM AND ISOLDE AT JOYOUS GARD.\n\n      CHAPTER.                                             PAGE.\n\n         I.--THE TREACHERY OF KING MARK                       9\n\n        II.--HOW TRISTRAM BEFOOLED DINADAN                   23\n\n       III.--ON THE ROAD TO LONAZEP                          36\n\n        IV.--HOW PALAMIDES FARED AT THE RED CITY             46\n\n         V.--THE TOURNAMENT AT LONAZEP                       55\n\n        VI.--THE SECOND DAY OF THE TOURNAMENT                70\n\n       VII.--THE WOES OF TWO LOVERS                          83\n\n      VIII.--THE RIVALRY OF TRISTRAM AND PALAMIDES           92\n\n\n                                 BOOK IX.\n\n                       THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL.\n\n         I.--THE ENCHANTED CASTLE OF KING PELLAM            117\n\n        II.--THE MARVEL OF THE FLOATING SWORD               125\n\n       III.--HOW GALAHAD GOT HIS SHIELD                     141\n\n        IV.--THE TEMPTATION OF SIR PERCIVALE                155\n\n         V.--THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF SIR BORS             173\n\n        VI.--THE ADVENTURE OF THE MAGIC SHIP                195\n\n       VII.--HOW LANCELOT SAW THE SANGREAL                  207\n\n      VIII.--THE DEEDS OF THE THREE CHOSEN KNIGHTS          217\n\n\n                                 BOOK X.\n\n                    THE LOVE OF LANCELOT AND GUENEVER.\n\n         I.--THE POISONING OF SIR PATRISE                   226\n\n        II.--THE LILY MAID OF ASTOLAT                       239\n\n       III.--HOW ELAINE DIED FOR LOVE                       251\n\n        IV.--THE CHEVALIER OF THE CART                      260\n\n\n                                 BOOK XI.\n\n                           THE HAND OF DESTINY.\n\n         I.--THE TRAPPING OF THE LION                       280\n\n        II.--THE RESCUE OF THE QUEEN                        288\n\n       III.--THE RETURN OF GUENEVER                         297\n\n        IV.--THE WAR BETWEEN ARTHUR AND LANCELOT            314\n\n         V.--THE STING OF THE VIPER                         323\n\n        VI.--THE PASSING OF ARTHUR                          335\n\n       VII.--THE DEATH OF LANCELOT AND GUENEVER             339\n\n\n\n\n                          LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.\n\n\n                          KING ARTHUR. VOL. II.\n\n                                                           PAGE\n\n      CONWAY CASTLE                           _Frontispiece._\n\n      ST. MICHAEL'S MOUNT, CORNWALL                          10\n\n      THE ROUND TABLE OF KING ARTHUR                         16\n\n      MARRIAGE OF SIR TRISTRAM                               24\n\n      THE ASSAULT OF SIR TRISTRAM                            42\n\n      SIR TRISTRAM AT JOYOUS GARD                            55\n\n      THE DEPARTURE                                          93\n\n      ON THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL                        118\n\n      JOSEPH OF ARIMATHEA                                   134\n\n      OATH OF KNIGHTHOOD                                    144\n\n      SIR GALAHAD FIGHTING THE SEVEN SINS                   153\n\n      AN OLD AND HALF-RUINED CHAPEL                         183\n\n      THE MAGIC SHIP                                        198\n\n      SIR GALAHAD'S QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL                 217\n\n      SALISBURY CATHEDRAL                                   225\n\n      \"YOU ARE WELCOME, BOTH,\" SAID SIR BERNARD             241\n\n      ELAINE                                                259\n\n      SIR LANCELOT IN THE QUEEN'S CHAMBER                   287\n\n      THE TOWER OF LONDON                                   324\n\n      THE OLD KITCHEN OF GLASTONBURY ABBEY                  345\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\n                             KING ARTHUR\n\n                               AND THE\n\n                      KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE.\n\n\n\n\n                              BOOK VIII.\n\n                  TRISTRAM AND ISOLDE AT JOYOUS GARD\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE TREACHERY OF KING MARK.\n\n\nThe story of Tristram's valorous deeds, and of the high honor in which\nhe was held at Camelot, in good time came to Cornwall, where it filled\nKing Mark's soul with revengeful fury, and stirred the heart of La Belle\nIsolde to the warmest love. The coward king, indeed, in his jealous\nhatred of his nephew, set out in disguise for England, with murderous\ndesigns against Tristram should an opportunity occur.\n\nMany things happened to him there, and he was brought into deep\ndisgrace, but the story of his adventures may be passed over in brief\nreview, lest the reader should find it wearisome.\n\nNot far had he ridden on English soil before he met with Dinadan, who,\nin his jesting humor, soon played him a merry trick. For he arrayed\nDagonet, the king's fool, in a suit of armor, which he made Mark believe\nwas Lancelot's. Thus prepared, Dagonet rode to meet him and challenged\nhim to a joust. But King Mark, on seeing what he fancied was Lancelot's\nshield, turned and fled at headlong speed, followed by the fool and his\ncomrades with hunting cries and laughter till the forest rang with the\nnoise.\n\nEscaping at length from this merry chase, the trembling dastard made his\nway to Camelot, where he hoped some chance would arise to aid him in his\nmurderous designs on Tristram. But a knight of his own train, named Sir\nAmant, had arrived there before him, and accused him of treason to the\nking, without telling who he was.\n\n\"This is a charge that must be settled by wager of battle,\" said King\nArthur. \"The quarrel is between you; you must decide it with sword and\nspear.\"\n\nIn the battle that followed, Sir Amant, by unlucky fortune, was run\nthrough, and fell from his horse with a mortal wound.\n\n\"Heaven has decided in my favor,\" cried King Mark. \"But here I shall no\nlonger stay, for it does not seem a safe harbor for honest knights.\"\n\nHe thereupon rode away, fearing that Dinadan would reveal his name. Yet\nnot far had he gone before Lancelot came in furious haste after him.\n\n[Illustration: ST. MICHAEL'S MOUNT, CORNWALL.]\n\n\"Turn again, thou recreant king and knight,\" he loudly called. \"To\nArthur's court you must return, whether it is your will or not. We know\nyou, villain. Sir Amant has told your name and purpose; and, by my\nfaith, I am strongly moved to kill you on the spot.\"\n\n\"Fair sir,\" asked King Mark, \"what is your name?\"\n\n\"My name is Lancelot du Lake. Defend yourself, dog and dastard.\"\n\nOn hearing this dreaded name, and seeing Lancelot riding upon him with\nspear in rest, King Mark tumbled like a sack of grain from his saddle to\nthe earth, crying in terror, \"I yield me, Sir Lancelot! I yield me!\" and\nbegging piteously for mercy.\n\n\"Thou villain!\" thundered Lancelot, \"I would give much to deal thee one\nbuffet for the love of Tristram and Isolde. Mount, dog, and follow me.\"\n\nMark hastened to obey, and was thus brought like a slave back to\nArthur's court, where he made such prayers and promises that in the end\nthe king forgave him, but only on condition that he would enter into\naccord with Tristram, and remove from him the sentence of banishment.\nAll this King Mark volubly promised and swore to abide by, though a\nfalse heart underlay his fair words. But Tristram gladly accepted the\nproffered truce with his old enemy, for his heart burned with desire to\nsee his lady love again.\n\nSoon afterwards Dinadan, with Dagonet and his companions, came to court,\nand great was the laughter and jesting at King Mark when they told the\nstory of his flight from Arthur's fool.\n\n\"This is all very well for you stay-at-homes,\" cried Mark; \"but even a\nfool in Lancelot's armor is not to be played with. As it was, Dagonet\npaid for his masquerade, for he met a knight who brought him like a log\nto the ground, and all these laughing fellows with him.\"\n\n\"Who was that?\" asked King Arthur.\n\n\"I can tell you,\" said Dinadan. \"It was Sir Palamides. I followed him\nthrough the forest, and a lively time we had in company.\"\n\n\"Aha! then you have had adventures.\"\n\n\"Rare ones. We met a knight before Morgan le Fay's castle. You know the\ncustom there, to let no knight pass without a hard fight for it. This\nstranger made havoc with the custom, for he overthrew ten of your\nsister's knights, and killed some of them. He afterwards tilted with\nPalamides for offering to help him, and gave that doughty fellow a sore\nwound.\"\n\n\"Who was this mighty champion? Not Lancelot or Tristram?\" asked the\nking, looking around.\n\n\"On our faith we had no hand in it,\" they both answered.\n\n\"It was the knight next to them in renown,\" answered Dinadan.\n\n\"Lamorak of Wales?\"\n\n\"No less. And, my faith, a sturdy fellow he is. I left him and Palamides\nthe best of friends.\"\n\n\"I hope, then, to see the pair of them at next week's tournament,\" said\nthe king.\n\nAlas for Lamorak! Better for him far had he kept away from that\ntournament. His gallant career was near its end, for treachery and\nhatred were soon to seal his fate. This sorrowful story it is now our\nsad duty to tell.\n\nLamorak had long loved Margause, the queen of Orkney, Arthur's sister\nand the mother of Gawaine and his brethren. For this they hated him, and\nwith treacherous intent invited their mother to a castle near Camelot,\nas a lure to her lover. Soon after the tournament, at which Lamorak won\nthe prize of valor, and redoubled the hatred of Gawaine and his brothers\nby overcoming them in the fray, word was brought to the victorious\nknight that Margause was near at hand and wished to see him.\n\nWith a lover's ardor, he hastened to the castle where she was, but, as\nthey sat in the queen's apartment in conversation, the door was suddenly\nflung open, and Gaheris, one of the murderous brethren, burst in, full\narmed and with a naked sword in his hand. Rushing in fury on the\nunsuspecting lovers, with one dreadful blow he struck off his mother's\nhead, crimsoning Lamorak with her blood. He next assailed Lamorak, who,\nbeing unarmed, was forced to fly for his life, and barely escaped.\n\nThe tidings of this dread affair filled the land with dismay, and many\nof the good knights of Arthur's court threatened reprisal. Arthur\nhimself was full of wrath at the death of his sister. Yet those were\ndays when law ruled not, but force was master, and retribution only came\nfrom the strong hand and the ready sword. This was Lamorak's quarrel,\nand the king, though he vowed to protect him from his foes, declared\nthat the good knight of Wales must seek retribution with his own hand.\n\nHe gained death, alas! instead of revenge, for his foes proved too\nvigilant for him, and overcame him by vile treachery. Watching his\nmovements, they lay in ambush for him at a difficult place, and as he\nwas passing, unsuspicious of danger, they set suddenly upon him, slew\nhis horse, and assailed him on foot.\n\nGawaine, Mordred, and Gaheris formed this ambush, for the noble-minded\nGareth had refused to take part in their murderous plot; and with\ndesperate fury they assaulted the noble Welsh knight, who, for three\nhours, defended himself against their utmost strength. But at the last\nMordred dealt him a death-blow from behind, and when he fell in death\nthe three murders hewed him with their swords till scarce a trace of the\nhuman form was left.\n\nThus perished one of the noblest of Arthur's knights, and thus was done\none of the most villanous deeds of blood ever known in those days of\nchivalrous war.\n\nBefore the death of Lamorak another event happened at Arthur's court\nwhich must here be told, for it was marvellous in itself, and had in it\nthe promise of wondrous future deeds.\n\nOne day there came to the court at Camelot a knight attended by a young\nsquire. When he had disarmed he went to the king and asked him to give\nthe honor of knighthood to his squire.\n\n\"What claim has he to it?\" asked the king. \"Of what lineage is he?\"\n\n\"He is the youngest son of King Pellinore, and brother to Sir Lamorak.\nHe is my brother also; for my name is Aglavale, and I am of the same\ndescent.\"\n\n\"What is his name?\"\n\n\"Percivale.\"\n\n\"Then for my love of Lamorak, and the love I bore your father, he shall\nbe made a knight to-morrow.\"\n\nSo when the morrow dawned, the king ordered that the youth should be\nbrought into the great hall, and there he knighted him, dealing him the\naccolade with his good sword Excalibur.\n\nAnd so the day passed on till the dinner-hour, when the king seated\nhimself at the head of the table, while down its sides were many knights\nof prowess and renown. Percivale, the new-made knight, was given a seat\namong the squires and the untried knights, who sat at the lower end of\nthe great dining-table.\n\nBut in the midst of their dinner an event of great strangeness occurred.\nFor there came into the hall one of the queen's maidens, who was of high\nbirth, but who had been born dumb, and in all her life had spoken no\nword. Straight across the hall she walked, while all gazed at her in\nmute surprise, till she came to where Percivale sat. Then she took him\nby the hand, and spoke in a voice that rang through the hall with the\nclearness of a trumpet,--\n\n\"Arise, Sir Percivale, thou noble knight and warrior of God's own\nchoosing. Arise and come with me.\"\n\nHe rose in deep surprise, while all the others sat in dumb wonder at\nthis miracle. To the Round Table she led him, and to the right side of\nthe seat perilous, in which no knight had hitherto dared to sit.\n\n\"Fair knight, take here your seat;\" she said. \"This seat belongs to you,\nand to none other, and shall be yours until a greater than you shall\ncome.\"\n\nThis said, she departed and asked for a priest. Then was she confessed\nand given the sacrament, and forthwith died. But the king and all his\ncourt gazed with wonder on Sir Percivale, and asked themselves what all\nthis meant, and for what great career God had picked out this youthful\nknight, for such a miracle no man there had ever seen before.\n\nMeanwhile, King Mark had gone back to Cornwall, and with him went Sir\nTristram, at King Arthur's request, though not till Arthur had made the\nCornish king swear on Holy Scripture to do his guest no harm, but hold\nhim in honor and esteem.\n\nLancelot, however, was full of dread and anger when he heard what had\noccurred, and he told King Mark plainly that if he did mischief to Sir\nTristram he would slay him with his own hands.\n\n\"Bear this well in mind, sir king,\" he said, \"for I have a way of\nkeeping my word.\"\n\n\"I have sworn before King Arthur to treat him honorably,\" answered Mark.\n\"I, too, have a way of keeping my word.\"\n\n\"A way, I doubt not,\" said Lancelot, scornfully; \"but not my way. Your\nreputation for truth needs mending. And all men know for what you came\ninto this country. Therefore, take heed what you do.\"\n\n[Illustration: Copyright 1895 by E. A. Abbey; from a Copely print\ncopyright 1897 by Curtis and Cameron.\n\nTHE ROUND TABLE OF KING ARTHUR.]\n\nThen Mark and Tristram departed, and soon after they reached Cornwall a\ndamsel was sent to Camelot with news of their safe arrival, and bearing\nletters from Tristram to Arthur and Lancelot. These they answered and\nsent the damsel back, the burden of Lancelot's letter being, \"Beware of\nKing Fox, for his ways are ways of wiles.\"\n\nThey also sent letters to King Mark, threatening him if he should do\naught to Tristram's injury. These letters worked harm only, for they\nroused the evil spirit in the Cornish king's soul, stirring him up to\nanger and thirst for revenge. He thereupon wrote to Arthur, bidding him\nto meddle with his own concerns, and to take heed to his wife and his\nknights, which would give him work enough to do. As for Sir Tristram, he\nsaid that he held him to be his mortal enemy.\n\nHe wrote also to Queen Guenever, his letter being full of shameful\ncharges of illicit relations with Sir Lancelot, and dishonor to her\nlord, the king. Full of wrath at these vile charges, Guenever took the\nletter to Lancelot, who was half beside himself with anger on reading\nit.\n\n\"You cannot get at him to make him eat his words,\" said Dinadan, whom\nLancelot took into his confidence. \"And if you seek to bring him to\nterms with pen and ink, you will find that his villany will get the\nbetter of your honesty. Yet there are other ways of dealing with\ncowardly curs. Leave him to me; I will make him wince. I will write a\nmocking lay of King Mark and his doings, and will send a harper to sing\nit before him at his court. When this noble king has heard my song I\nfancy he will admit that there are other ways of gaining revenge besides\nwriting scurrilous letters.\"\n\nA stinging lay, indeed, was that which Dinadan composed. When done he\ntaught it to a harper named Eliot, who in his turn taught it to other\nharpers, and these, by the orders of Arthur and Lancelot, went into\nWales and Cornwall to sing it everywhere.\n\nMeanwhile King Mark's crown had been in great danger. For his country\nhad been invaded by an army from Session, led by a noted warrior named\nElias, who drove the forces of Cornwall from the field and besieged the\nking in his castle of Tintagil. And now Tristram came nobly to the\nrescue. At the head of the Cornish forces he drove back the besiegers\nwith heavy loss, and challenged Elias to a single combat to end the war.\nThe challenge was accepted, and a long and furious combat followed, but\nin the end Elias was slain, and the remnant of his army forced to\nsurrender.\n\nThis great service added to the seeming accord between Tristram and the\nking, but in his heart Mark nursed all his old bitterness, and hated him\nthe more that he had helped him. His secret fury soon found occasion to\nflame to the surface. For at the feast which was given in honor of the\nvictory, Eliot, the harper, appeared, and sang before the king and his\nlords the lay that Dinadan had made.\n\nThis was so full of ridicule and scorn of King Mark that he leaped from\nhis seat in a fury of wrath before the harper had half finished.\n\n\"Thou villanous twanger of strings!\" he cried. \"What hound sent you into\nthis land to insult me with your scurrilous songs?\"\n\n\"I am a minstrel,\" said Eliot, \"and must obey the orders of my lord.\nSir Dinadan made this song, if you would know, and bade me sing it\nhere.\"\n\n\"That jesting fool!\" cried Mark, in wrath. \"As for you, fellow, you\nshall go free through minstrels' license. But if you lose any time in\ngetting out of this country you may find that Cornish air is not good\nfor you.\"\n\nThe harper took this advice and hastened away, bearing letters from\nTristram to Lancelot and Dinadan. But King Mark turned the weight of his\nanger against Tristram, whom he believed had instigated this insult,\nwith the design to set all the nobles of his own court laughing at him.\nAnd well he knew that the villanous lay would be sung throughout the\nland, and that he would be made the jest of all the kingdom.\n\n\"They have their sport now,\" he said. \"Mine will come. Tristram of\nLyonesse shall pay dearly for this insult. And all that hold with him\nshall learn that King Mark of Cornwall is no child's bauble to be played\nwith.\"\n\nThe evil-minded king was not long in putting his project in execution.\nAt a tournament which was held soon afterwards Tristram was badly\nwounded, and King Mark, with great show of sorrow, had him borne to a\ncastle near by, where he took him under his own care as nurse and leech.\n\nHere he gave him a sleeping draught, and had him borne while slumbering\nto another castle, where he was placed in a strong prison cell, under\nthe charge of stern keepers.\n\nThe disappearance of Tristram made a great stir in the kingdom. La Belle\nIsolde, fearing treachery, went to a faithful knight named Sir Sadok,\nand begged him to try and discover what had become of the missing\nknight. Sadok set himself diligently to work; and soon learned that\nTristram was held captive in the castle of Lyonesse. Then he went to\nDinas, the seneschal, and others, and told them what had been done, at\nwhich they broke into open rebellion against King Mark, and took\npossession of all the towns and castles in the country of Lyonesse,\nfilling them with their followers.\n\nBut while the rebellious army was preparing to march on Tintagil, and\nforce King Mark to set free his prisoner, Tristram was delivered by the\nyoung knight Sir Percivale, who had come thither in search of\nadventures, and had heard of King Mark's base deed. Great was the joy\nbetween these noble knights, and Tristram said,--\n\n\"Will you abide in these marches, Sir Percivale? If so, I will keep you\ncompany.\"\n\n\"Nay, dear friend, I cannot tarry here. Duty calls me into Wales.\"\n\nBut before leaving Cornwall he went to King Mark, told him what he had\ndone, and threatened him with the revenge of all honorable knights if he\nsought again to injure his noble nephew.\n\n\"What would you have me do?\" asked the king. \"Shall I harbor a man who\nopenly makes love to my wife and queen?\"\n\n\"Is there any shame in a nephew showing an open affection for his\nuncle's wife?\" asked Percivale. \"No man will dare say that so noble a\nwarrior as Sir Tristram would go beyond the borders of sinless love, or\nwill dare accuse the virtuous lady La Belle Isolde of lack of chastity.\nYou have let jealousy run away with your wisdom, King Mark.\"\n\nSo saying, he departed; but his words had little effect on King Mark's\nmind. No sooner had Percivale gone than he began new devices to gratify\nhis hatred of his nephew. He sent word to Dinas, the seneschal, under\noath, that he intended to go to the Pope and join the war against the\ninfidel Saracens, which he looked upon as a nobler service than that of\nraising the people against their lawful king.\n\nSo earnest were his professions that Dinas believed him and dismissed\nhis forces, but no sooner was this done than King Mark set aside his\noath and had Tristram again privately seized and imprisoned.\n\nThis new outrage filled the whole realm with tumult and rebellious\nfeeling. La Belle Isolde was at first thrown into the deepest grief, and\nthen her heart swelled high with resolution to live no longer with the\ndastard who called her wife. Tristram at the same time privately sent\nher a letter, advising her to leave the court of her villanous lord, and\noffering to go with her to Arthur's realm, if she would have a vessel\nprivately made ready.\n\nThe queen thereupon had an interview with Dinas and Sadok, and begged\nthem to seize and imprison the king, since she was resolved to escape\nfrom his power.\n\nFurious at the fox-like treachery of the king, these knights did as\nrequested, for they formed a plot by which Mark was privately seized,\nand they imprisoned him secretly in a strong dungeon. At the same time\nTristram was delivered, and soon sailed openly away from Cornwall with\nLa Belle Isolde, gladly shaking the dust of that realm of treachery from\nhis feet.\n\nIn due time the vessel touched shore in King Arthur's dominions, and\ngladly throbbed the heart of the long-unhappy queen as her feet touched\nthat free and friendly soil. As for Tristram, never was lover fuller of\njoy, and life seemed to him to have just begun.\n\nNot long had they landed when a knightly chance brought Lancelot into\ntheir company. Warm indeed was the greeting of those two noble\ncompanions, and glad the welcome which Lancelot gave Isolde to English\nsoil.\n\n\"You have done well,\" he said, \"to fly from that wolf's den. There is no\nnoble knight in the world but hates King Mark and will honor you for\nleaving his palace of vile devices. Come with me, you shall be housed at\nmy expense.\"\n\nThen he rode with them to his own castle of Joyous Gard, a noble\nstronghold which he had won with his own hands. A royal castle it was,\ngarnished and provided with a richness which no king or queen could\nsurpass. Here Lancelot bade them use everything as their own, and\ncharged all his people to love and honor them as they would himself.\n\n\"Joyous Gard is yours as long as you will honor it by making it your\nhome,\" he said. \"As for me, I can have no greater joy than to know that\nmy castle is so nobly tenanted, and that Tristram of Lyonesse and Queen\nIsolde are my honored guests.\"\n\nLeaving them, Lancelot rode to Camelot, where he told Arthur and\nGuenever of what had happened, much to their joy and delight.\n\n\"By my crown,\" cried Arthur, joyfully, \"the coming of Tristram and\nIsolde to my realm is no everyday event, and is worthy of the highest\nhonor. We must signalize it with a noble tournament.\"\n\nThen he gave orders that a stately passage-at-arms should be held on\nMay-day at the castle of Lonazep, which was near Joyous Gard. And word\nwas sent far and near that the knights of his own realm of Logris, with\nthose of Cornwall and North Wales, would be pitted against those of the\nrest of England, of Ireland and Scotland, and of lands beyond the seas.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nHOW TRISTRAM BEFOOLED DINADAN.\n\n\nNever were two happier lovers than Tristram and Isolde at Joyous Gard.\nTheir days were spent in feasting and merriment, Isolde's heart\noverflowing with joy to be free from the jealousy of her ill-tempered\nspouse, and Tristram's to have his lady love to himself, far from\ntreacherous plots and murderous devices.\n\nEvery day Tristram went hunting, for at that time men say he was the\nbest courser at the chase in the world, and the rarest blower of the\nhorn among all lovers of sport. From him, it is said, came all the\nterms of hunting and hawking, the distinction between beasts of the\nchase and vermin, all methods of dealing with hounds and with game, and\nall the blasts of the chase and the recall, so that they who delight in\nhuntsmen's sport will have cause to the world's end to love Sir Tristram\nand pray for his soul's repose.\n\nYet Isolde at length grew anxious for his welfare, and said,--\n\n\"I marvel that you ride so much to the chase unarmed. This is a country\nnot well known to you, and one that contains many false knights, while\nKing Mark may lay some plot for your destruction. I pray you, my dear\nlove, to take more heed to your safety.\"\n\nThis advice seemed timely, and thereafter Tristram rode in armor to the\nchase, and followed by men who bore his shield and spear. One day, a\nlittle before the month of May, he followed a hart eagerly, but as the\nanimal led him by a cool woodland spring, he alighted to quench his\nthirst in the gurgling waters.\n\nHere, by chance, he met with Dinadan, who had come into that country in\nsearch of him. Some words of greeting passed between them, after which\nDinadan asked him his name, telling his own. This confidence Tristram\ndeclined to return, whereupon Dinadan burst out in anger.\n\n[Illustration: MARRIAGE OF SIR TRISTRAM.]\n\n\"You value your name highly, sir knight,\" he said. \"Do you design to\nride everywhere under a mask? Such a foolish knight as you I saw but\nlately lying by a well. He seemed like one asleep, and no word could be\ngot from him, yet all the time he grinned like a fool. The fellow was\neither an idiot or a lover, I know not which.\"\n\n\"And are not you a lover?\" asked Tristram.\n\n\"Marry, my wit has saved me from that craft.\"\n\n\"That is not well said,\" answered Tristram. \"A knight who disdains love\nis but half a man, and not half a warrior.\"\n\n\"I am ready to stand by my creed,\" retorted Dinadan. \"As for you,\nsirrah, you shall tell me your name, or do battle with me.\"\n\n\"You will not get my name by a threat, I promise you that,\" said\nTristram. \"I shall not fight till I am in the mood; and when I do, you\nmay get more than you bargain for.\"\n\n\"I fear you not, coward,\" said Dinadan.\n\n\"If you are so full of valor, here is your man,\" said Tristram, pointing\nto a knight who rode along the forest aisle towards them. \"He looks\nready for a joust.\"\n\n\"On my life, it is the same dull-plate knave I saw lying by the well,\nneither sleeping nor waking,\" said Dinadan.\n\n\"This is not the first time I have seen that covered shield of azure,\"\nsaid Tristram. \"This knight is Sir Epinegris, the son of the king of\nNorthumberland, than whom the land holds no more ardent lover, for his\nheart is gone utterly out to the fair daughter of the king of Wales.\nNow, if you care to find whether a lover or a non-lover is the better\nknight, here is your opportunity.\"\n\n\"I shall teach him to grin to more purpose,\" said Dinadan. \"Stand by and\nyou shall see.\"\n\nThen, as the lover approached, he cried,--\n\n\"Halt, sir knight, and make ready to joust, as is the custom with errant\nknights.\"\n\n\"Let it be so, if you will,\" answered Epinegris. \"Since it is the custom\nof you knight-errant to make a man joust whether he will or no, I am\nyour man.\"\n\n\"Make ready, then, for here is for you.\"\n\nThen they spurred their horses and rode together at full speed, Dinadan\nbreaking his spear, while Epinegris struck him so shrewd a blow that he\nrolled upon the earth.\n\n\"How now?\" cried Tristram. \"It seems to me that the lover has best\nsped.\"\n\n\"Will you play the coward?\" queried Dinadan. \"Or will you, like a good\nknight, revenge me?\"\n\n\"I am not in the mood,\" answered Tristram. \"Take your horse, Sir\nDinadan, and let us get away from here, where hard blows are more\nplentiful than soft beds.\"\n\n\"Defend me from such fellowship as yours!\" roared Dinadan. \"Take your\nway and I will take mine. We fit not well together.\"\n\n\"I might give you news of Sir Tristram.\"\n\n\"Sir Tristram, if he be wise, will seek better company. I can do without\nyour news, as I have had to do without your help,\" and he rode on in\nhigh dudgeon.\n\n\"Farewell, then,\" cried Tristram, laughing. \"It may happen we shall soon\nmeet again.\"\n\nTristram rode back in much amusement to Joyous Gard, but on coming near\nhe heard in the neighboring town a great outcry.\n\n\"What means this noise?\" he asked.\n\n\"Sir,\" he was told, \"a knight of the castle has just been slain by two\nstrangers, and for no other cause than saying that Sir Lancelot was a\nbetter knight than Sir Gawaine.\"\n\n\"Who would dispute that?\" said Tristram. \"It is a small cause for the\ndeath of a good man, that he stands for his lord's fame.\"\n\n\"But what remedy have we?\" said the towns-men. \"If Lancelot had been\nhere, these fellows would soon have been called to a reckoning. But,\nalas, he is away.\"\n\n\"I may do something in his service,\" answered Tristram. \"If I take his\nplace, I must defend his followers.\"\n\nThereupon he sent for his shield and spear, and rode in pursuit of the\ntwo knights, whom he overtook before they had gone far.\n\n\"Turn, sir dastards,\" he cried, \"and amend your misdeeds.\"\n\n\"What amends wish you?\" asked one of the knights. \"We are ready with\nspear and sword to make good whatever we have done.\"\n\nHe rode against Tristram, but was met so sturdily in mid career that he\nwas thrust over his horse's tail. Then the other rode against him, and\nwas served in the same rough manner.\n\nThey rose as quickly as they could, drew their swords, and challenged\nhim to battle on foot.\n\n\"You shall tell me your names,\" he said, sternly. \"I warn you that if it\ncomes to sword-play you will find more than your match. Yet you may have\nthat in your lineage which will keep you from my hands, however much you\ndeserve punishment for your evil deeds.\"\n\n\"As for our names, we dread not to tell them. We are Agravaine and\nGaheris, brothers to the good knight Gawaine, and nephews of King\nArthur.\"\n\n\"For Arthur's sake, then, I must let you pass unscathed. Yet it is a\ncrying shame that men of such good blood as you should play the part of\nmurderers. You slew among you a better knight than the best of your kin,\nLamorak de Galis, and I would to God I had been by at that time.\"\n\n\"You would have gone the same road,\" said Gaheris.\n\n\"Not without more knights to do it than you had in your murderous crew.\"\n\nWith these words he turned from them and rode back towards Joyous Gard.\nWhen he had gone they regained their horses, and feeling themselves safe\nin the saddle their courage returned.\n\n\"Let us pursue this boaster,\" they said, \"and see if he fares so much\nbetter than Lamorak.\"\n\nThey did so, and when they came near Tristram, who was jogging slowly\nalong, Agravaine cried,--\n\n\"Turn, traitor knight!\"\n\n\"Traitor in your teeth!\" cried Tristram, in a rage. \"I let you off too\ncheaply, it seems.\" And drawing his sword, he turned upon Agravaine and\nsmote him so fiercely on the helm that he fell swooning from his horse,\nwith a dangerous wound.\n\nThen he turned to Gaheris and dealt him a blow that in like manner\ntumbled him from his saddle to the earth. This done, Tristram turned and\nrode into the castle, leaving them like dead men in the road.\n\nHere he told La Belle Isolde of his several adventures. When he spoke\nof Dinadan, she asked,--\n\n\"Was it not he that made the song about King Mark?\"\n\n\"The same,\" answered Tristram. \"He is the greatest jester at Arthur's\ncourt, but a good knight withal, and I know no man whom I like better as\na comrade.\"\n\n\"Why did you not bring him with you?\"\n\n\"No need of that. He is seeking me through this country, and there is no\nfear that he will give up the search lightly.\"\n\nAs they spoke, a servant came and told Tristram that a knight-errant had\nentered the town, and described the device on his shield.\n\n\"That is our man now,\" said Tristram. \"That is Dinadan. Send for him,\nIsolde, and you shall hear the merriest knight and the maddest talker\nthat you ever spoke with. I pray you to make him heartily welcome, for\nhe is a cherished friend of mine.\"\n\nThen Isolde sent into the town with a message to Dinadan, begging that\nhe would come to the castle and rest a while there, at a lady's wish.\n\n\"That will I, with a good will,\" answered Dinadan. \"I were but a churl\nelse.\"\n\nHe hastened to mount and ride to the castle, and here he was shown to a\nchamber where he laid aside his armor. Then he was brought into the\npresence of La Belle Isolde, who courteously bade him welcome.\n\n\"Whence, come you, and what name do you bear?\" she asked.\n\n\"Madam,\" he answered, \"I am from King Arthur's court, and am one of the\nsmall fry of Round Table Knights. My name is Dinadan.\"\n\n\"And why came you hither?\"\n\n\"I am seeking my old friend and comrade, Sir Tristram, who I am told has\nmade his way to this country.\"\n\n\"That I cannot answer for,\" said Isolde. \"He may and he may not be here.\nSir Tristram will be found where love leads him.\"\n\n\"I warrant me that. Your true lover has no will of his own, but is led\nlike an ox, with a ring in his nose. I marvel what juice of folly gets\ninto the pates of these lovers to make them so mad about the women.\"\n\n\"Why, sir,\" said Isolde, \"can it be that you are a knight and no lover?\nI fancy that there can be no true man-of-arms who seeks not by his deeds\nto win the smiles of the fair.\"\n\n\"They who care to be fed on smiles are welcome to them, but I am not\nmade of that fashion,\" answered Dinadan. \"The joy of love is too short,\nand the sorrow thereof too long, to please my fancy.\"\n\n\"Say you so? Yet near here but to-day was the good knight Sir Bleoberis,\nhe who fought with three knights at once for a maiden's sake, and won\nher before the king of Northumberland.\"\n\n\"I know him for a worthy fellow,\" said Dinadan, \"as are all of\nLancelot's kindred. Yet he has crotchets in his head, like all that\ncrew.\"\n\n\"Now, I pray you,\" said Isolde, \"will you not do me the grace to fight\nfor my love with three knights that have done me great wrong? As you\nare a knight of King Arthur's, you can never say me nay in such a duty.\"\n\n\"Can I not?\" cried Dinadan. \"This much I will say, madam, that you are\nas fair a sample of womankind as ever I saw, and much more beautiful\nthan is my lady Queen Guenever. And yet, heaven defend me, I will not\nfight for you against three knights; and would not, were you Helen of\nTroy herself.\"\n\nAt these words, and the odd grimace which he made, La Belle Isolde burst\ninto a merry peal of laughter, and broke out with,--\n\n\"I know you better than you fancy, Sir Dinadan. And well you keep up\nyour credit of being a merry fellow. You are very welcome to my castle,\ngood sir.\"\n\nThey had much more of gameful conversation together, and Dinadan was\ntreated with all honor, and slept serenely at the castle that night. But\nTristram took good care to keep out of his sight.\n\nEarly the next day Tristram armed himself and prepared to ride away,\nsaying to the Lady Isolde that he would contrive to meet with Dinadan,\nand would ride with him to Lonazep, where the tournament was to be held.\nHe promised also to make arrangements to provide her with a good place\nfrom which to see the passage-at-arms. Then he departed, accompanied by\ntwo squires, who bore his shield and a brace of great and long spears.\n\nShortly afterwards Dinadan left the castle, bidding a merry adieu to the\nlady, and rode so briskly forward that he soon overtook Tristram. He\nknew him at sight for his yesterday's comrade, and made a sour grimace\nat beholding him.\n\n\"So,\" he said, \"here again is my easy-going friend, who wears his armor\nfor a holiday parade. You shall not get off so lightly to-day, fellow.\nYou shall joust with me, despite your head.\"\n\n\"Faith, I am not eager,\" said Tristram, \"but a wilful man will have his\nway; so let us have it over, if fight we must.\"\n\nThen they rode at each other, and Dinadan broke a spear on Tristram's\nshield, but Tristram purposely missed him.\n\nDinadan now bade him draw his sword.\n\n\"Not I,\" he answered. \"What makes you so warlike? I am not in the humor\nto fight.\"\n\n\"You shame all knights by your cowardice.\"\n\n\"So far as that goes, it troubles me little,\" said Tristram. \"Suppose,\nmy good sir, you take me under your protection. Though I bear arms I\nshall gladly accept the patronage of so worthy a knight as you.\"\n\n\"The devil deliver me of you!\" cried Dinadan. \"You are a fellow of\ngoodly build, and sit your horse like a warrior; but heaven knows if you\nhave blood or water in your veins. What do you propose to do with those\ngreat spears that your squire carries?\"\n\n\"I shall give them to some good knight at the tournament. If you prove\nthe best there, you are welcome to them.\"\n\nAs they thus conversed they saw a knight-errant in the road before them,\nwho sat with spear in rest as if eager to joust.\n\n\"Come,\" said Tristram, \"since you are so anxious for a fight, yonder is\nyour man.\"\n\n\"Shame betide you for a dastard,\" cried Dinadan. \"Fight him yourself.\nYou can't get more than a fall.\"\n\n\"Not so. That knight seems a shrewish fellow. It will need a stronger\nhand than mine to manage him.\"\n\n\"Good faith, then, here's to teach you a lesson,\" said Dinadan, and he\nrode fiercely against the other knight, with the unlucky result that he\nwas thrust from his horse, and fell headlong to the earth.\n\n\"What did I tell you?\" said Tristram. \"You had better have taken a\nlesson from my prudence, and let that good fellow alone.\"\n\n\"The fiends take you, coward!\" cried Dinadan, as he started to his feet\nand drew his sword. \"Come, sir knight, you are my better on horseback,\nlet us have it out on foot.\"\n\n\"Shall it be in love or in anger?\" said the other.\n\n\"Let it be in love. I am saving all my anger for this do-nothing who\ncame with me.\"\n\n\"Then I pray you to tell me your name.\"\n\n\"Folks call me Dinadan.\"\n\n\"Ah, and I am your comrade Gareth. I will not fight with an old friend\nlike Dinadan.\"\n\n\"Nor I with you, by my faith!\" cried Dinadan, seizing Gareth's hand and\ngiving it a warm pressure. \"Beaumains is safe from my spear. Here is a\nchap now, if you want to try your skill; but if you can get him to fight\nyou must first learn the art of converting a coward into a man of\nvalor.\"\n\nTristram laughed quietly at this, and bided his time. Nor was there long\nto wait, for just then a well-armed knight rode up, on a sturdy horse,\nand put his spear in rest as he approached.\n\n\"Now, my good sirs,\" said Tristram, \"choose between yourselves which\nwill joust with yonder knight; for I warn you that I will keep clear of\nhim.\"\n\n\"Faith, you had better,\" said Gareth. \"Leave him to me.\"\n\nAnd he rode against the knight but with such ill-fortune that he was\nthrust over his horse's croup.\n\n\"It is your turn now,\" said Tristram to Dinadan. \"Honor requires that\nyou should avenge your comrade Gareth.\"\n\n\"Honor does, eh? Then reason does not, and I always weigh reason against\nhonor. He has overturned a much bigger fellow than I, and with your kind\npermission I will not stir up that hornet.\"\n\n\"Aha, friend Dinadan, your heart fails you after all your boasting. Very\nwell, you shall see what the coward can do. Make ready, sir knight.\"\n\nThen Tristram rode against the victorious knight, and dealt him so\nshrewd a buffet that he was thrust from his horse.\n\nDinadan looked at this in amazement. Was this the fellow that professed\ncowardice and begged protection? \"The cunning rogue,\" he said to\nhimself, \"has been making game of me. The rascal! where has he learned\nthe art of turning my weapons on myself?\"\n\nThe dismounted knight rose to his feet in anger, and drawing his sword,\nchallenged Tristram to a fight on foot.\n\n\"First, tell me your name?\" asked Tristram.\n\n\"My name is Palamides.\"\n\n\"And what knight hate you most?\"\n\n\"I hate Sir Tristram to the death. If we meet, one of us must die.\"\n\n\"You need not go far to seek him. I am Tristram de Lyonesse. Now do your\nworst.\"\n\nAt this Dinadan started, and struck his hand sturdily on his knee, like\none who has had a shock of surprise. Nor was Palamides less astonished,\nand he stood before Tristram like one in a sudden revulsion of feeling.\n\n\"I pray you, Sir Tristram,\" he said, \"to forgive my ill-will and my\nunkind words. You are a noble knight and worthy of the love of all\nhonorable warriors. I repent my truculent temper towards you, and, if I\nlive, will rather do you service than assail you.\"\n\n\"I know your valor well,\" answered Tristram, \"and that it is anything\nbut fear makes you speak so. Therefore I thank you much for your kind\nwords. But if you have any shreds of ill-will towards me I am ready to\ngive you satisfaction.\"\n\n\"My wits have been astray,\" answered Palamides. \"There is no just reason\nwhy we should be at odds, and I am ready to do you knightly service in\nall things you may command.\"\n\n\"I take you at your word,\" cried Tristram, as he grasped Palamides by\nthe hand. \"I have never been your enemy, and know none whom I would\nrather have as a friend.\"\n\n\"Would you?\" cried Dinadan. \"And would have me as your fool, mayhap? By\nmy knightly faith, you have made a sweet butt of me! I came into this\ncountry for your sake, and by the advice of Sir Lancelot, though he\nwould not tell me where to find you. By Jove's ears, I never thought to\nfind you masquerading as a milk-brained coward.\"\n\n\"He could have told you,\" said Tristram, \"for I abode within his own\ncastle. As for my little sport, friend Dinadan, I cry you mercy.\"\n\n\"Faith, it is but one of my own jests, turned against me,\" said Dinadan,\nwith a merry laugh. \"I am pinked with my own dart. I forgive you, old\ncomrade; but I vow I did not know you had such a jolly humor.\"\n\n\"It comes to one in your company,\" said Tristram, laughing. \"The disease\nis catching.\"\n\nAnd so the four knights rode gayly onward, conversing much as they went,\nand laying their plans for the tournament.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nON THE ROAD TO LONAZEP.\n\n\nThe four knights rode onward in company until they came in sight of the\ncastle of Lonazep, where they saw striking preparations for the\ntournament. For not less than four hundred tents and pavilions covered\nthe plain outside the great circle of the lists, and war-horses and\nknights in armor were there in hundreds.\n\n\"Truly,\" said Tristram, \"this is the royalest show that I ever saw.\"\n\n\"You forget,\" answered Palamides. \"It had its equal at the Castle of\nMaidens, where you won the prize.\"\n\n\"And in that tournament which Galahalt of the Long Isles held in Surluse\nthere was as great a gathering,\" said Dinadan.\n\n\"I was not there; who won the prize?\" asked Tristram.\n\n\"Lancelot du Lake, and the next after him was the noble knight Lamorak\nde Galis.\"\n\n\"A noble fellow, indeed, I never met his better, save Sir Lancelot. His\nmurder was shameful, and were they not the nephews of my lord Arthur\nthat slew him, by my faith they should die the death. And this without\nprejudice to you, Sir Gareth.\"\n\n\"Say what you will on that point; I am with you,\" answered Gareth.\n\"Though my own brothers did that bloody work, I hold not with them. None\nof them love me, as you well know, and I have left their company as\nmurderers. Had I been by when Lamorak was killed there might have been\nanother tale to tell.\"\n\n\"Truly that is well said of you,\" rejoined Tristram. \"I would rather\nhave been there than to have all the gold between here and Rome.\"\n\n\"And I also,\" said Palamides. \"It is a burning disgrace to the Round\nTable fellowship that such a knight should have been ambushed and slain\non his way from a passage-at-arms where he had won the prize of valor.\"\n\n\"Out on such treason!\" cried Tristram. \"The tale of it makes my blood\nrun cold.\"\n\n\"And mine as well,\" said Gareth. \"I can never love or respect my\nbrothers again for that ruthless deed.\"\n\n\"Yet to speak of it is useless,\" said Palamides. \"His life is gone; we\ncannot bring it back again.\"\n\n\"There lies the pity,\" said Dinadan. \"No matter how good and noble a man\nmay be, when he stops breathing all else stops with him. By good luck,\nthough, the same rule holds with villains and cowards. As for Gawaine\nand his brothers, except you, Sir Gareth, they hate the best knights of\nthe Round Table, and Lancelot and his kindred above all. Only that\nLancelot is well aware of this, they might draw him into as deadly a\ntrap as they drew poor Lamorak.\"\n\n\"Come, come, remember that Gareth is their brother,\" said Palamides.\n\"Let us change the subject. Here is this tournament,--what part shall we\nplay here? My advice is that we four hold together against all that may\nassail us.\"\n\n\"That is not my counsel,\" said Tristram. \"By their pavilions we may\ncount on some four hundred knights, and doubtless many of them worthy\nones. If we play the game of four against all comers we are likely to\nfind ourselves borne down by numbers. Many good knights have lost the\ngame by taking too great odds. Manhood is of little avail if it be not\ntempered by wisdom. If you think it best we may try it, and see what we\ncan do in company, but, as a rule, I prefer to fight for my own hand.\"\n\nAs they thus talked they rode away from Lonazep, and in due time came to\nthe banks of the Humber, where they were surprised by a loud and\ngrievous cry that seemed full of doleful meaning. Looking over the\nwaters they saw approaching before the wind a vessel richly draped with\nred silk. Not long had they waited when it came to the shore, at a point\nclose by where they stood.\n\nSeeing this strange thing and hearing the doleful cries which came from\nthe vessel, the knights gave their horses in care of their squires, and\napproached on foot, Tristram boarding the vessel. When he reached the\ndeck he saw there a bed with rich silken coverings, on which lay a dead\nknight, armed save the head, which was crimsoned with blood. And through\ngreat gaps in his armor deadly wounds could be seen.\n\n\"What means this?\" said Tristram. \"How came this knight by his death?\"\n\nAs he spoke he saw that a letter lay in the dead knight's hand.\n\n\"Master mariners,\" he asked of those on board the vessel, \"what does\nthis strange thing signify?\"\n\n\"Sir knight,\" they answered, \"by the letter which the dead knight bears\nyou may learn how and for what cause he was slain, and what name he\nbore. Yet first heed well this warning: No man must take and read that\nletter unless he be a knight of proved valor, and faithfully promises to\nrevenge the murder of this good warrior.\"\n\n\"There be those among us able to revenge him,\" answered Tristram. \"And\nif he shall prove to have been foully treated his death shall not go\nunredressed.\"\n\nTherewith he took the letter from the knight's hand and opened it. Thus\nit read,--\n\n\"I, Hermance, king and lord of the Red City, request of all\nknights-errant and all noble knights of Arthur's court, that they find\none knight who will fight for my sake with two false brethren, whom I\nbrought up from nothingness and who have feloniously and treacherously\nslain me. And it is my will and desire that the valiant knight who\navenges my death shall become lord of my Red City and all my castles.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said the mariners, \"the king and knight that lies here dead was a\nman of great virtue and noble prowess, and one who loved all\nknights-errant, and, above all, those of King Arthur's court.\"\n\n\"It is a piteous case, truly,\" said Tristram. \"I would fain take the\nenterprise in hand myself, but that I have made a solemn promise to take\npart in this great tournament. It was for my sake in especial that my\nlord Arthur made it, and I cannot in honor and courtesy fail to attend\nit. Therefore I am not free to undertake any adventure which may keep me\nfrom the lists.\"\n\n\"I pray you, dear sir,\" said Palamides, who had followed Tristram into\nthe vessel, \"to put this enterprise into my hands. I promise to achieve\nit worthily or to die in the effort.\"\n\n\"Be it so,\" said Tristram. \"You may go if you will. But first I wish\nyour promise to return so as to be with me at the tournament this day\nweek, if possible.\"\n\n\"That promise I freely give. If I be alive and unhurt, and my task be\nnot too arduous and long, I shall be with you by that day.\"\n\nThis said, Tristram left the vessel, leaving Palamides in it, and he,\nwith Gareth and Dinadan, stood watching it as the mariners hoisted its\nsails and it glided swiftly away over long Humber. Not till it was out\nof sight did they return to their horses, and look about them.\n\nAs they did so they beheld near them a knight, who came up unarmed save\na sword, and saluted them with all courtesy.\n\n\"Fair sirs,\" he said, \"I pray you, as knights-errant, to come and see my\ncastle, and take such fare as you may find there. This I heartily\nrequest.\"\n\n\"That shall we willingly do, and thank you for your courtesy,\" they\nanswered, and rode with him to his castle, which was near by.\n\nHere they entered a richly-furnished hall, and, having laid off their\narmor, took their seats at a well-laden table. But when the host saw\nTristram's face, he knew him, and first grew pale and then angry of\ncountenance.\n\n\"Sir, mine host,\" said Tristram, on seeing this threatening aspect,\n\"what is wrong with you, I pray?\"\n\n\"I know you, Tristram de Lyonesse,\" answered the knight, hotly. \"You\nslew my brother. Honor demands that I shall not seek revenge here, but I\ngive you warning that I will kill you when I meet you outside my\ncastle.\"\n\n\"I have no knowledge of you or your brother,\" answered Tristram. \"But no\nman can say that I ever killed any one except in fair and open fight. If\nI have done as you say I stand ready to make what amends are in my\npower.\"\n\n\"I desire no amends,\" rejoined the knight. \"But I warn you to keep from\nme.\"\n\nTristram at this rose from the table and asked for his arms, his\ncompanions following him. Seeking their horses they rode away, but they\nhad not gone far from the castle when Dinadan saw a knight following\nthem, who was well armed, but bore no shield.\n\n\"Take care of yourself, Sir Tristram,\" he said. \"Yonder comes our host\nto call you to account.\"\n\n\"Then I must abide him as I may,\" answered Tristram.\n\nSoon the knight came up, and, loudly bidding Tristram to be on his\nguard, he rode furiously upon him with couched spear. But his valor went\nbeyond his strength, for he was hurled over his horse's croup.\n\nNot content with this, he rose, mounted again, and driving his horse at\nfull speed upon Tristram, struck him two hard blows on the helm.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" said Tristram, \"I pray you leave off this sport. I do not\ncare to harm you after having just eaten at your table, but beg you not\nto try my patience too far.\"\n\nThe furious assailant would not cease, however, and continued his\nassaults until Tristram was provoked to anger. In the end he returned\nthe knight a blow with the full strength of his mighty arm, so fierce a\nbuffet, indeed, that the blood burst out from the breathing holes of his\nhelm, and he fell to the earth and lay there like one dead.\n\n[Illustration: THE ASSAULT OF SIR TRISTRAM.]\n\n\"I hope I have not killed him,\" said Tristram. \"I did not think to\nstrike the man so hard a blow, but I am not a log to stand at rest and\nlet him whet his sword on.\"\n\nLeaving the fallen knight to the care of his squire, they rode on; but\nnot far had they gone when they saw coming towards them two well-armed\nand well-horsed knights, each with a good following of servants. One of\nthese was Berrant le Apres, he who was called the king with the hundred\nknights, and the other Sir Segwarides, both men of might and renown.\n\nWhen they came up the king looked at Dinadan, who, through sport, had\nput on Tristram's helmet. This he recognized as one he had seen before\nwith the queen of Northgalis, whom he loved. She had given it to La\nBelle Isolde, and she to Tristram.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" asked Berrant, \"whence had you that helm?\"\n\n\"Not from you, I fancy. What have you to say to it?\"\n\n\"That I will have a tilt with you, for the love of her who once owned\nit. Therefore, defend yourself.\"\n\nSo they drew asunder, and rode at each other with all the speed of their\nhorses. But Dinadan, good knight as he was, was no match for the tough\nand hardy warrior before him, and was sent, horse and all, to the\nground.\n\n\"I fancy I have something to say about the helmet now,\" said Berrant,\ngrimly. \"Go take it off him, and keep it,\" he ordered his servant.\n\n\"What will you do?\" cried Tristram. \"Hands off, fellow. Touch not that\nhelm.\"\n\n\"To what intent do you meddle, sir knight?\" demanded Berrant.\n\n\"To this intent, that the helm is mine. Nor will you get it from me till\nyou buy it at a dearer price.\"\n\n\"Do you mean that as a challenge?\" asked Berrant. \"Be it so, then; make\nready.\"\n\nTogether they rode with all speed, but with a change of fortune, for\nBerrant found himself thrust over the tail of his horse. In a moment he\nwas on his feet, sprang briskly to his saddle, and, riding in anger upon\nTristram, struck at him fiercely with his sword.\n\nTristram was not taken unawares, but in an instant had his sword in\nhand. A fierce combat followed, for the king with the hundred knights\nwas a warrior of tough sinews and tried valor, but at the last he\nreceived such a buffet on the helm that he fell forward on his horse's\nneck, stunned and helpless.\n\n\"By my faith, that helmet has proved unlucky for two of us,\" said\nDinadan. \"It brought me a tumble, and now, sir king, you owe it a\nbuzzing head-piece.\"\n\n\"Who will joust with me?\" asked Segwarides.\n\n\"It is your right,\" said Gareth to Dinadan, \"but I pray you let me have\nit.\"\n\n\"You are heartily welcome to it. One tumble a day is enough for my weak\nappetite,\" answered Dinadan. \"I make you a free present of the\nopportunity.\"\n\n\"That is no fair exchange,\" said Tristram. \"The joust is yours by\nright.\"\n\n\"But not by choice,\" rejoined Dinadan. \"Good faith, sir bruiser, I have\nlived long enough to know when I have had my share, and that is a\nlesson it would pay many of you battle-hungry knights to learn.\"\n\nThen Gareth and Segwarides rode together, the result being that Gareth\nand his horse went in a heap to the earth.\n\n\"Now,\" said Tristram, \"the joust is yours.\"\n\n\"But the appetite is lacking,\" said Dinadan. \"I have even less stomach\nfor it than before.\"\n\n\"Then will I try him.\"\n\nWith these words Tristram challenged Segwarides, who received a sore\nfall in the joust that followed. Then the three knights rode on, leaving\ntheir late antagonists the worse in heart and limb for the encounter.\n\nThey continued their ride till they reached Joyous Gard. Here Gareth\ncourteously declined to enter the castle, but Tristram would not hear of\nhis departure, and made him alight and enter as his guest. So they\ndisarmed and had good cheer, with La Belle Isolde as their hostess.\n\nBut Dinadan, when he came into the presence of Isolde, roundly cursed\nthe hour that he had been persuaded to wear Tristram's helm, and told\nher of how he had been mocked by his comrade knight.\n\nMuch laughing and jesting at Dinadan followed, but this was a game in\nwhich he was quite able to hold his own, however he might lack with\nsword and spear. For Arthur's court held no other so witty of tongue and\nmerry of heart. And thus in jest and feast they passed the hours happily\naway.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nHOW PALAMIDES FARED AT THE RED CITY.\n\n\nLeaving Tristram and his companions to their merry talk in Joyous Gard,\nwe must now return to Palamides. The ship into which he had entered\nsailed far along the Humber, until in time it reached the open sea. It\ncontinued its course through the sea-waves till it came to a part of the\ncoast where stood a stately castle.\n\nAll day and night they had sailed, and it was now early in the morning,\nbefore day-dawn. Palamides was sound asleep in the vessel's cabin when\nthe mariners came to call him.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" they said, \"you must arise. We have reached a castle,\nwhich you must enter.\"\n\n\"I am at your command,\" he replied.\n\nRising, he armed himself quickly, and then blew a loud call upon a horn\nwhich the mariners gave him.\n\nAt the ringing music of that bugle-blast the sleeping castle seemed to\nstir into life. Soon many eyes could be seen looking from the windows,\nand ere long the walls were crowded with knights, who called to\nPalamides as with one voice, \"Welcome, fair sir, to this castle.\"\n\nThe day had now fully dawned, and Palamides entered the castle, where a\ncrowd of knights came to greet him, and led him to a stately\ndining-hall, where an abundant breakfast awaited him. But as he ate he\nheard much lamentation, and saw many whose eyes were wet with tears.\n\n\"What means this?\" he asked. \"I love not such sorrow, and would fain\nknow what gives rise to it.\"\n\n\"We mourn here daily,\" answered a knight named Sir Ebel, \"and for this\ncause. We had a king named Hermance, who was lord of the Red City, and\nin every way a noble and generous monarch. And he loved nothing in the\nworld so much as the knights-errant of King Arthur's court, together\nwith the sports of jousting, hunting, and all knightly diversions. A\nking so kind of heart as he was never before known in this country, and\nwe shall ever be filled with sorrow for his loss. Yet he acted unwisely,\nand is himself at fault for his death.\"\n\n\"Tell me how he was slain and by whom,\" asked Palamides.\n\n\"In this wise it came to pass,\" answered Ebel. \"He brought up, in pure\ncharity, two children, who are now strong knights. And to them he gave\nall his trust and confidence, in default of those of his own blood.\nThese two men governed him completely, and, through him, his lands and\npeople, for they took the best of care that none of his kindred should\ncome into power. He was so free and trustful, and they so politic and\ndeceitful, that they ruled him as though they were the kings and he the\nsubject. When the lords of our king's blood saw that he had fallen into\nthis dotage they left the court in disgust, and sought their livelihood\nelsewhere. This it proved not wise to do, for when these villains found\nthat all the king's kindred had left the realm they schemed to have more\npower still; for, as the old saw says, 'Give a churl rule in part, and\nhe will not be content till he has it all.' It is the instinct of the\nbase-born to destroy gentlemen-born, if the power be put in their hands,\nand all rulers should take warning by the fate of King Hermance. In the\nend our king, by the advice of these traitors, rode into the forest here\nby, to chase the red deer. When he had become warm from the hunt he\nalighted to drink at a woodland spring, and, while he was bent over the\nwater, one of these villains thrust him through the body with a spear.\nThey then fled from the spot, thinking he was dead. Shortly after they\nhad gone, fortune brought me to the spot, where I found my lord still\nalive, but mortally hurt, and learned from him his story. Knowing that\nwe had no knights able to revenge him on his murderers, I had him\nbrought to the water, and put into the ship alive, and the letter which\nhe bore in his hand I wrote from his own words. Then he died, and, as he\nhad ordered, the ship set sail up the Humber, bound for the realm of\nLogris, where it was hoped that some valiant Knight of the Round Table\nwould take this adventure on himself.\"\n\n\"Truly your doleful tale grieves me sorely,\" said Palamides. \"I saw the\nletter you speak of. It was read to me by one of the best knights upon\nthe earth, and it is by his command I am here. I came to revenge your\nking, and I shall never be at ease till I meet with and punish his\nmurderers.\"\n\n\"You have my hearty thanks and best wishes,\" said Ebel. \"Since you\naccept this adventure, you must enter the ship again, and sail forward\ntill you reach the Delectable Isle, which is near by the Red City. We\nshall await here your return. If you speed well this castle is yours.\nKing Hermance built it for the two traitors, but we hold it against\nthem, and they threaten us sorely unless we yield it.\"\n\n\"Look that you keep it, whatsoever may come to me,\" said Palamides. \"For\nif fortune decides that I am to be slain in this quest, I trust that one\nof the best knights in the world will come to revenge me; either\nTristram de Lyonesse or Lancelot du Lake.\"\n\nThen Palamides entered the ship and sailed away towards the Red City.\nBut as he came near it, and landed on the coast, another ship touched\nshore near by, from which came a goodly knight, with his shield on his\nshoulder and his hand on his sword.\n\n\"Sir knight, what seek you here?\" he asked Palamides. \"If you have come\nto revenge King Hermance you must yield this quest to me, for it was\nmine before it was yours, and I shall yield it to no man.\"\n\n\"You speak like a true knight,\" said Palamides. \"But when the letter was\ntaken from the dead king's hand there was nothing known of any champion\nfor him, and so I promised to revenge him. And this I must and shall do,\nlest I win shame instead of honor.\"\n\n\"You have right on your side,\" said the knight. \"What I propose is this.\nI will fight with you; and he who proves the better knight shall have\nthe quest.\"\n\n\"That fits with my fancy,\" said Palamides; \"for from what I hear no\nsecond-rate champion can watch this pair of villains.\"\n\nWith this they advanced their shields and drew their swords, and began a\nstern and well-contested combat. For more than an hour the fight between\nthem continued, but at the end of this time Palamides seemed stronger\nand better-winded than at the beginning, and he finally dealt his\nopponent a blow that brought him to his knees. Then the discomfited\ncombatant cried out,--\n\n\"Knight, hold your hand.\"\n\nPalamides let fall his sword at this request.\n\n\"You are the better of us two, and more worthy of this battle,\" said the\nknight. \"But fain would I know your name.\"\n\n\"My name is Palamides. I am a Knight of the Round Table, and one well\nknown in Arthur's realm.\"\n\n\"In good faith it is, and much beyond that realm,\" answered the knight.\n\"I know only three living men besides yourself who are fitted for this\ntask, and they are Lancelot, Tristram, and my cousin Lamorak. As for me,\nmy name is Hermind, and I am brother to the murdered King Hermance.\"\n\n\"I shall do my best to revenge your brother,\" said Palamides. \"If I am\nslain, I commend you to Lancelot or Tristram. As for Lamorak, he will\nnever strike blow again.\"\n\n\"Alas, what mean you?\"\n\n\"That he has been murdered--waylaid and slain treacherously by Gawaine\nand his brothers, except Sir Gareth, the best of them all.\" And he told\nthe story of the death of Lamorak, much to the grief and indignation of\nhis hearer.\n\nThen Palamides took ship again, and sailed on till he came to the\nDelectable Isle. Meanwhile Hermind made all haste to the Red City, where\nhe told of the arrival of the famous knight Palamides and of his combat\nwith him. The people were filled with joy at these tidings, and quickly\nsent a messenger to the two brethren, bidding them to make ready, as a\nknight had come who would fight them both. The messenger found them at a\ncastle near by, and delivered his message.\n\n\"Who is this champion?\" they asked. \"Is it Lancelot or any of his\nblood?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"If it were, we would not fight. But we care for no one else.\"\n\n\"It is a good knight though, Sir Palamides, a Saracen by birth, and\nstill unchristened.\"\n\n\"He had best have been christened before he came here, for it will be\ntoo late when we have done with him. Let him know that we will be at the\nRed City in two days, and will give him all the fighting he is likely to\nwant for the rest of his life.\"\n\nWhen Palamides came to the city he was received with the greatest joy,\nand the more so when the people saw what a handsome and well-built man\nhe was, neither too young nor too old, with clean and powerful limbs,\nand no defect of body.\n\nAt the time appointed there came to the city the two brethren, Helius\nand Helake by name, both of them strong and valiant men, of great\nprowess in war, false as they were at heart. And with them they brought\nforty knights, to guard them against any treachery from the Red City,\nfor they knew well that it was filled with their enemies.\n\nThe lists had already been prepared, and at the appointed hour Palamides\nentered full armed, and confronted his antagonists boldly.\n\n\"Are you the two brethren Helius and Helake, who slew your king by\ntreason?\" he asked.\n\n\"We are the men who slew King Hermance,\" they replied. \"And bear in\nmind, Sir Saracen, we are able to stand by our deeds, and will handle\nyou so before you depart that you will wish you had been christened\nbefore you came so far.\"\n\n\"I trust to God I shall die a better Christian than either of you,\"\nPalamides replied. \"And you had best kill me if you get the chance, for\nI vow not to spare you.\"\n\nAs he spoke the trumpet sounded, and, reining back their horses, they\nrode against each other with terrific speed. Palamides directed his\nspear against Helake, and struck him so mighty a blow that the spear\npierced through his shield and hauberk, and for a fathom's length\nthrough his breast, hurling him dead to the earth. As for Helius, he\nheld up his spear in pride and presumption, and rode by Palamides\nwithout touching him.\n\nBut when he saw his brother stretched in death on the earth his\nassurance changed to doubt, and rage drove the pride from his heart.\n\"Help thyself, villain!\" he cried, and rushed upon Palamides before he\ncould prepare to encounter him, striking him a blow with his spear that\nbore him from his saddle to the earth. Then he forced his horse over\nhim backward and forward before the dismounted champion could regain his\nfeet.\n\nAs he came again, the fallen knight reached up and caught the horse by\nthe bridle, dragging himself by its aid to his feet. Then, as the animal\nreared, he pressed so strongly upon it that it toppled backward to the\nground, the rider barely saving himself from being crushed beneath his\nfallen horse. But he was on his feet in an instant, and, sword in hand,\nstruck Palamides a blow on the helm that brought him down to one knee.\n\nBefore he could repeat the blow the gallant Saracen was on his feet and\nhad drawn his trenchant blade, with which he attacked his antagonist in\nturn. A fierce and deadly combat succeeded, the two knights hurtling\ntogether like two wild boars, now both hurled grovelling to the earth,\nnow on foot again and hewing at each other with the strength of giants.\n\nThus for two hours they fought, without time for rest or a moment's\nspace to recover breath. At the end of that time Palamides grew faint\nand weary from the violence of his efforts, but Helius seemed as strong\nas ever, and redoubling his strokes he drove back the Saracen knight\nstep by step, over all the field. At this the people of the city were\nfilled with fear, while the party of Helius shouted with triumph.\n\n\"Alas!\" cried the citizens, \"that this noble knight should be slain for\nour king's sake.\"\n\nWhile they thus bewailed his threatened fate and the seeming victory of\ntheir tyrant, Helius showered so many vigorous blows on his weakened\nfoe that it was a wonder he kept his feet. But when he saw how the\ncommon people wept for him his heart was filled with a sense of shame,\nwhile a glow of fury burned like fire in his veins.\n\n\"Fie on you for a dastard, Palamides!\" he said to himself. \"Why hang you\nyour head so like a whipped hound?\"\n\nThen, with a new spirit burning hotly within him, and fresh strength\nanimating his limbs, he lifted his drooping shield and turned on Helius\nwith lion-like fury, smiting him a vigorous blow on the helm, which he\nfollowed quickly by others. This violent onset was too much for the\nstrained strength of the false knight, and he retreated in dismay, while\nthe sword of Palamides fell with ever more and more might. At length\ncame so mighty a blow that he was hurled like a log to the earth. The\nvictorious Saracen gave him no time to recover, but sprang upon him like\na fury, tore the helm from his head, and with a final stroke smote the\nhead from his body.\n\nThen he rose and stood leaning upon his sword, hardly able to bear\nhimself on his feet, while from all the people of the city went up loud\nshouts of joy and congratulation.\n\n\"Palamides, the conqueror! Palamides, our deliverer! Palamides, our\nking!\" they shouted, while one adorned his brows with a wreath of\nlaurel, and others tore off his armor and applied ointments to his\nbleeding limbs.\n\n\"Fair friends, your crown is not for me,\" he said. \"I have delivered you\nfrom your tyrants, but you must choose some other king, as I am under\npromise to return with all speed to my lord King Arthur at the castle of\nLonazep.\"\n\nThis decision filled them with grief, but they brought him to the city\nand treated him with all the honor which they could bestow upon him. And\nas he persisted in his refusal of the crown, they proffered him a third\npart of their goods if he would remain with them. All this he declined,\nand in a short time departed, bearing with him a thousand good wishes\nand prayers for success and fortune.\n\nHe was received with like joy and congratulation at the castle, Sir Ebel\nwarmly pressing him to change his decision and remain as their king. To\nthis Palamides would by no means consent, and after a day's stay he took\nship again, and sailed up the Humber to the castle of Lonazep.\n\n[Illustration: SIR TRISTRAM AT JOYOUS GARD.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE TOURNAMENT AT LONAZEP.\n\n\nWhen Palamides learned that Tristram was not at Lonazep, he tarried not\nthere, but crossed the Humber, and sought him at Joyous Gard. Here he\nfound lodgings in the town, and word was quickly brought to Tristram\nthat a knight-errant had come.\n\n\"What manner of man is he? and what sign does he bear?\" he asked.\n\nThe messenger described his armor and appearance.\n\n\"That is Palamides,\" said Dinadan. \"The brave fellow is already back,\nand victorious, I doubt not.\"\n\n\"It looks that way, indeed. Go and bid him welcome to Joyous Gard,\" said\nTristram.\n\nSo Dinadan went to Palamides, and joyfully greeted him, listening\neagerly to the story of his exploits, and congratulating him on his\nsignal success. He remained with him that night, and in the morning they\nwere visited by Tristram and Gareth before they had arisen.\n\nMany were the warm congratulations which Tristram gave Palamides on his\nnoble achievement, and after they had breakfasted he invited him to ride\ninto the fields and woods, that they might repose under the cool shelter\nof the forest. Here they alighted by a refreshing spring, and as they\nsat conversing an armed knight came riding towards them.\n\n\"Who are those knights that are lodged in Joyous Gard?\" he asked.\n\n\"That I cannot say,\" answered Tristram.\n\n\"At any rate you can tell me who you are. You are not knights-errant, I\nfancy, since you ride unarmed.\"\n\n\"Whether we be or no, we prefer not to tell our names.\"\n\n\"You are not courteous, sir knight, and this is the way I pay\ndiscourtesy,\" said the stranger. \"Guard yourself, or you shall die by\nmy hands.\"\n\nThen, spear in hand, he rode on Sir Tristram, with brutal intent to run\nhim through. But Palamides sprang up hastily, and smote the knight's\nhorse so fierce a blow with his clinched fist that horse and man fell\ntogether to the earth. He then drew his sword to slay him.\n\n\"Let the dog go,\" said Tristram. \"He is but a fool, and it were a shame\nto slay him for his folly. Take the fellow's spear from him, though. It\nis a weapon he has not learned the use of.\"\n\nThe knight rose groaning, and when he had regained his saddle he again\nrequested their names.\n\n\"My name is Tristram de Lyonesse, and this knight's name is Palamides.\nWould you know more?\"\n\n\"No, by my faith!\" cried the other, and, hastily putting spurs to his\nhorse, he rode away as fast as the animal would carry him.\n\nHardly had he gone when a knight, who bore a bended shield of azure,\ncame riding up at a furious gallop.\n\n\"My fair sirs,\" he asked, \"has a knight passed here bearing a shield\nwith a case of red over it?\"\n\n\"Yes. We but now had some trouble with such a fellow. Who is he?\"\n\n\"And you let him escape? That was ill-advised, fair sirs. He is the\nfalsest rogue and the greatest foe to knights-errant living. His name is\nBreuse Sans Pite.\"\n\n\"And I had him under my sword!\" cried Palamides. \"Fool I was to let him\ngo.\"\n\n\"If I overtake him there will be another story to tell,\" answered the\nknight, as he spurred onward on the track of the fugitive.\n\nThen the four friends mounted and rode leisurely back towards Joyous\nGard, much conversing as they went. When they reached the castle\nPalamides wished not to enter, but Tristram insisted on it, and, taking\nhim by the hand, led him in.\n\nWhen Palamides saw La Belle Isolde, whom he had not met for years, but\nfor whom his love burned as warmly as ever, he was so ravished with joy\nthat he could scarcely speak. And when they were at dinner he could not\neat a morsel, but sat like a dumb man, scarcely venturing to raise his\neyes to Isolde's lovely countenance.\n\nPoorly he slept that night, and with many dreams of her he loved. When\nmorning broke they all prepared to ride to Lonazep. Tristram took with\nhim three squires, and Queen Isolde had three gentlewomen, all attired\nwith great richness. These, with the other knights and their squires,\nand valets to bear their shields and spears, formed their train.\n\nNot far had they gone before they saw on the road before them a group of\nknights. Chief of these was the knight Galihodin, who was attended by\ntwenty companions.\n\n\"Fair fellows,\" said Galihodin, \"yonder come four knights escorting a\nrichly-attired lady. What say you? shall we take her from them?\"\n\n\"That is not the best counsel,\" said one.\n\n\"At any rate, it is my counsel,\" answered Galihodin. \"We shall show them\nthat we have the right of the road.\" And he sent a squire to them,\nasking them if they would joust, or else lose their lady.\n\n\"We are but four,\" said Tristram. \"Tell your lord to come with three of\nhis comrades, and win her if he can.\"\n\n\"Let me have this joust,\" said Palamides. \"I will undertake them all\nfour.\"\n\n\"As you will,\" said Tristram. \"Go tell your lord that this one knight\nwill encounter him and any three of his fellows.\"\n\nThe squire departed with his challenge, and in a trice Galihodin came\nriding forward spear in rest. Palamides encountered him in mid career,\nand smote him so hard a blow that he had a terrible fall to the earth,\nand his horse with him. His three comrades were served in the same\nsummary manner, while Palamides still bore an unbroken spear. At this\nunlooked-for result six knights rode out from the opposite party with\npurpose of revenge on the victor.\n\n\"Hold your hands,\" cried Galihodin. \"Let not one of you touch this noble\nknight, who has proved himself a man of worth. And I doubt if the whole\nof you could handle him.\"\n\nWhen Palamides saw that the field was yielded to him he rode back to Sir\nTristram.\n\n\"Well and worshipfully have you done,\" said Tristram. \"No man could have\nsurpassed you.\"\n\nOnward they rode again, and in a little while after met four knights in\nthe highway, with spears in rest. These were Gawaine and three\ncompanions. This joust also Tristram gave to Palamides, and he served\nthese four as he had served the others, leaving them all unhorsed in\nthe road. For the presence of La Belle Isolde gave the strength of ten\nmen to the arm of her lover, the Saracen.\n\nThey now continued their route without molestation, and in good time\nreached the spot where Tristram had ordered his pavilions to be set up.\nHere were now many more pavilions than they had seen on their previous\nvisit, and a great array of knights, who had been gathering for many\ndays, for far and wide had spread the news of the great tournament.\n\nLeaving Palamides and Gareth at the pavilions with Queen Isolde,\nTristram and Dinadan rode to Lonazep to learn what was afoot, Tristram\nriding on the Saracen knight's white horse. As they came into the castle\nthe sound of a great bugle-blast met their ears, and many knights\ncrowded forward.\n\n\"What means the blast?\" asked Tristram.\n\n\"Sir,\" answered a knight, \"it comes from the party who hold against King\nArthur at this tournament. These are the kings of Ireland, of Surluse,\nof Listinoise, of Northumberland, of North Wales, and of other\ncountries. They are calling a council to decide how they shall be\ngoverned in the lists.\"\n\nTristram thereupon followed them to their council, and listened to the\ndebate. He then sought his horse again, and rode by where King Arthur\nstood surrounded by a press of knights. Among those were Galihodin and\nGawaine, who said to the king: \"That knight in the green harness, with\nthe white horse, is a man of might, whoever he be. To-day he overthrew\nus both, with six of our fellows.\"\n\n\"Who can he be?\" said the king, and he called Tristram to him, and\nrequested to know his name.\n\n\"I beg pardon, my liege lord,\" answered Tristram, \"and pray that you\nwill hold me excused from revealing my name at this time,\" and he turned\nhis horse and rode away.\n\n\"Go after him, Sir Griflet,\" said the king. \"Tell him that I wish to\nspeak with him apart.\"\n\nGriflet rode to Tristram and told him the king's wish, and the two\nreturned in company.\n\n\"Fair sir,\" said the king, \"what is the cause that you withhold your\nname?\"\n\n\"I have an excellent reason, but beg that you will not press me for it.\"\n\n\"With which party do you hold?\"\n\n\"Truly, my lord, that I cannot say. Where my heart draws or my fancy\nbids I will go. To-morrow you shall see which side I take. To-day I know\nnot myself.\"\n\nLeaving the king, he rode back to where his pavilions were set. When the\nmorning dawned he and his three companions armed themselves all in green\nand rode to the lists. Here young knights had begun to joust, and,\nseeing this, Gareth asked leave of Tristram to break a spear.\n\n\"Go in and do your best if you care to play with beginners,\" said\nTristram, laughing.\n\nBut Gareth found himself encountered by a nephew of the king with the\nhundred knights, who had some of his uncle's tough fibre, and both got\nugly falls, and lay on the ground till they were helped up by their\nfriends. Then Tristram and Palamides rode with Gareth back to the\npavilions, where they removed their helmets. When Isolde saw Gareth all\nbruised in the face, she asked him what ailed him.\n\n\"Madam, I had a hard buffet, and gave another, but none of my fellows\nwould rescue me.\"\n\n\"Only unproved knights are yet in the field,\" said Palamides. \"The man\nthat met you, though, was a strong and well-trained knight, Sir Selises\nby name, so you have no dishonor. Rest here and get yourself in\ncondition for to-morrow's work.\"\n\n\"I shall not fail you if I can bestride my horse,\" said Gareth.\n\n\"What party is it best for us to join to-morrow?\" asked Tristram.\n\n\"Against King Arthur, is my advice,\" said Palamides. \"Lancelot and many\nother good men will be on his side, and the more men of prowess we meet\nthe more honor we will win.\"\n\n\"Well and knightly spoken,\" said Tristram. \"Hard blows is what we court.\nYour counsel is well given.\"\n\n\"So think we all,\" said the others.\n\nOn the morrow, when day had broken, they arrayed themselves in green\ntrappings, with shields and spears of green, while Isolde and her three\ndamsels wore dresses of the same color. For the ladies Tristram found\nseats in a bay window of a priory which overlooked the field, and from\nwhich they could see all that took place. This done, they rode straight\nto the party of the king of Scots.\n\nWhen Arthur saw this he asked Lancelot who were these knights and the\nqueenly lady who came with them.\n\n\"That I cannot say for certain. Yet if Tristram and Palamides be in this\ncountry then it is they and La Belle Isolde.\"\n\nThen Arthur turned to Kay and said,--\n\n\"Go to the hall and see how many Knights of the Round Table are missing,\nand bring me word.\"\n\nKay did so, and found by the roll of knights that ten were\nwanting,--Tristram, Dinadan, and eight others.\n\n\"Then I dare say,\" remarked Arthur, \"that some of these are here to-day\nagainst us.\"\n\nThe tournament began with a combat in which two knights, cousins to\nGawaine, named Sir Edward and Sir Sadok, rode against the king of Scots\nand the king of North Wales and overthrew them both. This Palamides saw,\nand in return he spurred upon these victorious knights and hurled both\nof them from their saddles.\n\n\"What knight is that in green?\" asked Arthur. \"He is a mighty jouster.\"\n\n\"You will see him do better yet,\" said Gawaine. \"It was he that unhorsed\nme and seven others two days ago.\"\n\nAs they stood talking Tristram rode into the lists on a black horse, and\nwithin a few minutes he smote down four knights of Orkney, while Gareth\nand Dinadan each unhorsed a good knight.\n\n\"Yonder is another fellow of marvellous arm,\" said Arthur; \"that green\nknight on the black horse.\"\n\n\"He has not begun his work yet,\" said Gawaine. \"It is plain that he is\nno common man.\"\n\nAnd so it proved, for Sir Tristram pushed fiercely into the press,\nrescued the two kings who had been unhorsed, and did such mighty work\namong the opposing party that all who saw him marvelled to behold one\nman do so many valiant deeds. Nor was the career of Palamides less\nmarvellous to the spectators.\n\nKing Arthur, who watched them both with admiring eyes, likened Tristram\nto a furious lion, and Palamides to a maddened leopard, and Gareth and\nDinadan, who seconded them strongly, to eager wolves. So fiercely did\nTristram rage, indeed, among the knights of Orkney that at length they\nwithdrew from the field, as no longer able to face him.\n\nThen loud went up the cry of the heralds and the common people,--\n\n\"The green knight has beaten all Orkney!\" And the heralds took account\nthat not less than fifty knights had been smitten down by the four\nchampions in green.\n\n\"This will not do,\" said Arthur. \"Our party will be overmatched if these\nfellows rage on at such a rate. Come, Lancelot, you and Hector and\nBleoberis must try your hands, and I will make a fourth.\"\n\n\"Let it be so,\" answered Lancelot. \"Let me take him on the black horse,\nand Bleoberis him on the white. Hector shall match him on the gray\nhorse\" (Sir Gareth).\n\n\"And I,\" said Arthur, \"will face the knight on the grizzled steed\" (Sir\nDinadan).\n\nWith this conversation they armed and rode to the lists. Here Lancelot\nrode against Tristram and smote him so hard a blow that horse and man\nwent to the earth, while his three companions met with the same ill\nfortune from their new antagonists.\n\nThis disaster raised a cry throughout the lists: \"The green knights are\ndown! Rescue the green knights! Let them not be held prisoners!\" For the\nunderstanding was that any unhorsed knight not rescued by his own\nstrength or by his fellows should be held as prisoner.\n\nThen the king of North Wales rode straight to Tristram, and sprang from\nhis horse, crying,--\n\n\"Noble knight, I know not of what country you are, but beg you to take\nmy horse, for you have proved yourself worthier to bestride it than I\nam.\"\n\n\"Many thanks,\" said Tristram. \"I shall try and do you as welcome a turn.\nKeep near us, and I may soon win you another horse.\"\n\nThen he sprang to the saddle, and meeting with King Arthur struck him so\nfierce a sword-blow on the helm that he had no power to keep his saddle.\n\n\"Here is the horse promised you,\" cried Tristram to the king of North\nWales, who was quickly remounted on King Arthur's horse.\n\nThen came a hot contest around the king, one party seeking to mount him\nagain and the other to hold him prisoner. Palamides thrust himself, on\nfoot, into the press, striking such mighty blows to the right and left\nthat the whole throng were borne back before him. At the same time\nTristram rode into the thickest of the throng of knights and cut a way\nthrough them, hurling many of them to the earth.\n\nThis done, he left the lists and rode to his pavilion, where he changed\nhis horse and armor; he who had gone forth as a green knight coming back\nto the fray as a red one.\n\nWhen Queen Isolde saw that Tristram was unhorsed, and lost sight of him\nin the press, she wept greatly, fearing that some harm had come to him.\nBut when he rode back she knew him in an instant, despite his red\ndisguise, and her heart swelled anew with joy as she saw him with one\nspear smite down five knights. Lancelot, too, now knew him, and withdrew\nfrom the lists lest he should encounter him again.\n\nAll this time Tristram's three friends had not been able to regain their\nsaddles, but now he drove back the press and helped them again to horse,\nand, though they knew him not in his new array, they aided him with all\ntheir knightly prowess.\n\nWhen Isolde, at her window, saw what havoc her chosen knight was making,\nshe leaned eagerly forth and laughed and smiled in delight. This\nPalamides saw, and the vision of her lovely and smiling countenance\nfilled his soul so deeply with love's rejoicing that there seemed to\nflow into him the strength and spirit of ten men, and, with a shout of\nknightly challenge, he pressed forward, smiting down with spear and\nsword every man he encountered. For his heart was so enamoured by the\nvision of that charming face that Tristram or Lancelot would then have\nhad much ado to stand before him.\n\n\"Truly Palamides is a noble warrior,\" said Tristram, when he beheld\nthis. \"I never saw him do such deeds as he has done this day, nor heard\nof his showing such prowess.\"\n\n\"It is his day,\" said Dinadan, simply. But to himself he said, \"If you\nknew for whose love he does these valorous deeds, you would soon be in\nthe field against him.\"\n\n\"It is a crying pity that so brave a knight should be a pagan,\" said\nTristram.\n\n\"It is my fancy,\" said Dinadan to himself, \"that you may thank Queen\nIsolde for what you have seen; if she had not been here to-day that\nshouting throng would not be giving Palamides the palm of the tourney.\"\n\nAt this juncture Lancelot came again into the field, and hearing the\noutcry in favor of Palamides he set his spear in rest and spurred upon\nhim. Palamides, seeing this, and having no spear, coolly awaited\nLancelot, and as he came up smote his spear in two with a sword-stroke.\nThen he rushed upon him and struck his horse so hard a blow in the neck\nthat the animal fell, bearing his rider to the ground.\n\nLoud and fierce was the outcry then: \"Palamides the Saracen has smitten\nSir Lancelot's horse! It is an unknightly deed!\"\n\nAnd Hector de Maris, seeing his brother Lancelot thus unfairly\ndismounted, rushed upon Palamides in a rage, and bore him from his horse\nwith a mighty spear-thrust.\n\n\"Take heed to yourself, sirrah,\" cried Lancelot, springing towards him\nsword in hand. \"You have done me a sorry deed, and by my knightly honor\nI will repay you for it.\"\n\n\"I humbly beg your pardon, noble sir,\" answered Palamides. \"I have done\nso much this day that I have no power or strength left to withstand you.\nForgive me my hasty and uncourteous deed, and I promise to be your\nknight while I live.\"\n\n\"You have done marvellously well indeed,\" said Lancelot. \"I understand\nwell what power moves you. Love is a mighty mistress, and if she I love\nwere here to-day you should not bear away the honor of the field, though\nyou have nobly won it. Beware that Tristram discovers not your love, or\nyou may repent it. But I have no quarrel with you, and will not seek to\ntake from you the honor of the day.\"\n\nSo Lancelot suffered Palamides to depart, and mounted his own horse\nagain, despite twenty knights who sought to hinder him. Lancelot,\nTristram, and Palamides did many more noble deeds before that day's end,\nand so great became the medley at length that the field seemed a dense\nmass of rearing and plunging horses and struggling knights.\n\nAt length Arthur bade the heralds to blow to lodging and the fray ended.\nAnd since Palamides had been in the field from first to last, without\nonce withdrawing, and had done so many, noble and valiant deeds, the\nhonor and the prize for the day were unanimously voted him, a judgment\nwhich Arthur and the kings of his counsel unanimously confirmed.\n\nBut when Palamides came to understand that the red knight who had\nrescued him was Sir Tristram his heart was glad, for all but Dinadan\nfancied he had been taken prisoner. Much was the talk upon the events of\nthe day, and great the wonder of king and knights at the remarkable\nvalor of the Saracen knight.\n\n\"And yet I well know,\" said Lancelot, \"that there was a better knight\nthere than he. And take my word for it, this will be proved before the\ntournament ends.\"\n\nThis also thought Dinadan, and he rallied his friend Tristram with\nsatirical tongue.\n\n\"What the fiend has ailed you to-day?\" he asked. \"Palamides grew in\nstrength from first to last, but you have been like a man asleep, or a\ncoward knight.\"\n\n\"I was never called coward before,\" said Tristram, hotly. \"The only fall\nI got was from Lancelot, and him I hold as my better, and for that\nmatter the better of any man alive.\"\n\nBut Dinadan kept up his railing accusations till the growing anger of\nTristram warned him to desist. Yet this was all from friendship, not\nfrom spite, for he wished to stir up his friend to do his best in the\nlists the coming day, and not permit the Saracen again to carry off the\nprize.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nTHE SECOND DAY OF THE TOURNAMENT.\n\n\nWhen the next morning dawned, Tristram, Palamides, and Gareth, with La\nBelle Isolde and her ladies, all arrayed as before in green, took horse\nat an early hour, and rode into the fresh forest. But Dinadan was left\nstill asleep in bed. As they passed the castle at a little distance, it\nchanced that King Arthur and Lancelot saw them from an upper window.\n\n\"Yonder rideth the fairest lady of the world,\" said Lancelot, \"always\nexcepting your queen, Guenever.\"\n\n\"Who is it?\" asked Arthur.\n\n\"It is La Belle Isolde, Cornwall's queen and Tristram's lady-love.\"\n\n\"By my troth, I should like to see her closer,\" said the king. \"Let us\narm and mount, and ride after them.\"\n\nThis they did, and in a short time were on the track of the gay\ncavalcade they had seen.\n\n\"Let us not be too hasty,\" warned Lancelot. \"There are some knights who\nresent being intruded on abruptly; particularly if in the company of\nladies.\"\n\n\"As for that, we must take our chances,\" said Arthur. \"If they feel\naggrieved I cannot help it, for I am bent on seeing Queen Isolde.\"\n\nSeeing Tristram and his companions just in advance, Arthur rode briskly\nup and saluted Isolde courteously, saying, \"God save you, fair lady.\"\n\n\"Thanks for your courtesy, sir knight,\" she replied.\n\nThen Arthur looked upon her charming countenance, freshened by the\nmorning air, and thought in his mind that Lancelot had spoken but the\ntruth, and that no more beautiful lady lived. But at this moment\nPalamides rode up.\n\n\"Sir knight, what seek you here?\" he asked. \"It is uncourteous to come\non a lady so suddenly. Your intrusion is not to our liking, and I bid\nyou to withdraw.\"\n\nArthur paid no heed to these words, but continued to gaze upon Isolde,\nas one stricken with admiration. Seeing this, Palamides flamed into\nanger, and spurred fiercely upon the king, with spear in rest, smiting\nhim from his horse.\n\n\"Here is an awkward business,\" said Lancelot to himself. \"If I ride down\nPalamides I shall have Tristram on me; and the pair of them would be too\nmuch for me. This comes from too head-strong a will. But whether I live\nor die I must stand by my lord and king.\" Then riding forward, he called\nto Palamides, \"Keep thee from me!\"\n\nFierce was the onset with which they met, but it ended in Lancelot's\nfavor, for Palamides was flung from his saddle and had a hard fall.\n\nWhen Tristram saw this he called to Lancelot, \"Be on your guard, sir\nknight. You have unhorsed my comrade, and must joust with me.\"\n\n\"I have no dread of that,\" said Lancelot; \"and yet I did but avenge my\nlord, who was unhorsed unwarily and unknightly. You have no cause for\ndispleasure; for no honorable knight could stand by and see his friend\nill-treated.\"\n\nTristram now felt sure that it was Lancelot who spoke, and that it was\nKing Arthur whom Palamides had unhorsed. He therefore laid aside his\nspear and helped Palamides again to his saddle, while Lancelot did the\nsame for the king.\n\n\"That deed of thine was not knightly nor courteous,\" said Tristram,\nsternly to Palamides, after the others had departed. \"I cannot see any\nharm in a knight accosting a lady gently and courteously; nor am I\npleased to have you play such masteries before my lady. If I deem her\ninsulted, I am quite able myself to protect her. And if I am not\nmistaken, it was King Arthur you assailed so rudely, and the other was\nLancelot du Lake. You may yet have to pay for your violence.\"\n\n\"I cannot think,\" said Palamides, \"that the great Arthur would ride thus\nsecretly arrayed as a poor knight-errant.\"\n\n\"Then you know him not,\" said Tristram. \"No knight living is fonder of\nadventure. King Arthur is always ready to take his part as an errant\nknight, nor does he bear malice against those who may overthrow him when\nin disguise. I tell you, Palamides, that our king is the true model of\nknightly honor, and that the best of us might learn from him.\"\n\n\"If it were he I am sorry,\" said Palamides. \"I may have been over-hasty.\nBut a thing that is done cannot be undone, and I must abide the\nconsequences.\"\n\nThen Tristram sent Isolde to her lodging in the priory, from which she\nmight behold the tournament, and made ready to enter the lists.\n\nFierce was the shock of the first encounter of the knights, and the\nthree champions in green began the day with many deeds of might.\n\n\"How feel you?\" asked Tristram of Palamides. \"Are you able to repeat\nyesterday's work?\"\n\n\"Hardly,\" was the reply. \"I am weary and sore yet from my hard labors.\"\n\n\"I am sorry for that, as I shall miss your aid.\"\n\n\"Trust not to me,\" answered Palamides. \"I have not much work left in\nme.\"\n\n\"Then I must depend on you,\" said Tristram to Gareth. \"We two should be\nable to make our mark. Keep near me and rescue me if I get in trouble,\nand I will do the same for you.\"\n\n\"I shall not fail you,\" was the reply.\n\nLeaving them, Palamides rode off by himself, and, pushing into the\nthickest press of the men of Orkney, did such deeds of arms that\nTristram looked on in amazement.\n\n\"Is that his soreness and weariness?\" he asked. \"I fancy he is weary of\nmy company, and wishes to win all the honor to his own hand.\"\n\n\"That is what Dinadan meant yesterday when he called you coward,\" said\nGareth. \"He but wished to stir you to anger so that Palamides should not\nrob you of credit.\"\n\n\"By my faith, if Palamides bears me ill will and envy I shall show him\nwhat a knight of Cornwall can do. He has gained the acclamations of the\ncrowd already. He has left our company and we owe him no courtesy. You\nshall see me rob him of his honors.\"\n\nThen Tristram rode into the thickest of the press, and laid about him\nwith such might that all eyes were turned upon him, and men began to\nsay, \"There is a greater than Palamides come into the field.\"\n\n\"Is it not as I told you?\" said Lancelot to Arthur. \"I said you would\nthis day see the Saracen distanced.\"\n\n\"It is true enough,\" answered Arthur. \"Palamides has not such strength\nof arm.\"\n\n\"It is Tristram himself you look upon.\"\n\n\"That I can well believe,\" said Arthur. \"Such knights as he do not grow\nlike mushrooms in every field.\"\n\nThe noise from the other part of the lists now drew the attention of\nPalamides, and when he saw what puissant deeds his late comrade was\ndoing he wept for spite, for he saw that the honor of that day was not\nfor him.\n\nSeeing to what straits their party was put, Arthur and Lancelot and many\nother knights now armed and rode into the field, and by their aid so\nchanged the tide of victory that the other side was driven quite back,\nuntil Tristram and Gareth stood alone, bravely abiding all who came upon\nthem. But Lancelot and his kinsmen kept purposely away from them.\n\n\"See,\" said Lancelot to Arthur, \"how Palamides hovers yonder like one in\na dream, sick, I fancy, from envy of Tristram.\"\n\n\"Then he is but a fool,\" said the king. \"He is not and never was the\nmatch of Tristram. I am glad to see the fellow repaid for the way he\nserved me this morning.\"\n\nAs they stood thus conversing, Tristram withdrew quietly from the lists,\nhis going noted only by Isolde and Palamides, who kept their eyes upon\nhim. He rode back to his pavilions, where he found Dinadan still asleep,\nhis slumbers not broken by all the uproar of the tournament.\n\n\"As I am a living man, here is a lusty sleeper,\" cried Tristram. \"Wake,\nDinadan. The day is half spent and the field half won, and here you are\nstill a-bed.\"\n\nAt this Dinadan sprang hastily up and rubbed his eyes.\n\n\"I dreamt of wars and jousts,\" he said. \"And, i' faith, I like that way\nthe best, for one gets all the good of the fight and is safe from sore\nlimbs and aching bones. But what's to do?\"\n\n\"Get on your harness and ride with me to the field. You will find\nsomething there to waken you up.\"\n\nDinadan, as he armed, noted Tristram's battered shield, and remarked,--\n\n\"I slept both well and wisely, it seems. If I had been there I must have\nfollowed you, from shame if not from courage. And by the looks of your\nshield I would have been worse battered than I was yesterday. Why did\nyou not let me sleep out the balance of it, friend Tristram?\"\n\n\"A truce with your jests. Come, we must to the field again.\"\n\n\"How now, is there a new deal in the game? Yesterday you did but dream;\nto-day you seem awake.\"\n\nMeanwhile Tristram had changed his armor, and now was attired all in\nblack.\n\n\"You have more fight in you than you had yesterday, that is sure,\" said\nDinadan. \"Did I stir up your sleeping spirit?\"\n\n\"It may be so,\" said Tristram, smiling. \"Keep well up to me, and I shall\nmake you a highway through the press. If you see me overmatched, do what\nyou can to aid me.\"\n\nWhen ready they took their horses and rode back to the lists, where\nIsolde and Palamides noted their entrance. When the Saracen saw that\nTristram was disguised, a new fancy came into his scheming brain.\nLeaving the lists, he rode to where a knight sat sorely wounded under a\ntree outside. Him he prayed for an exchange of armor, saying that his\nown was too well known in the field, and that he wished for a disguise.\n\n\"That is very true,\" said the knight, as he recognized the green armor.\n\"You have made your array somewhat too well known. You are welcome to my\narms, if they will be of use to you. They will gain more credit in your\nhands than they have won in mine.\"\n\nPalamides thereupon exchanged armor with him, and, taking his shield,\nwhich shone like silver, rode into the field. He now joined the party of\nKing Arthur, and rode spitefully against Tristram, who had just struck\ndown three knights. They met with such force that both spears splintered\nto their hands, though neither lost his seat. Then they dashed eagerly\ntogether with drawn swords and fought with the courage and fury of two\nlions. But Tristram wondered much what knight this was that faced him\nso valiantly, and grew angry as he felt that he was wasting in this\nsingle combat the strength he wished to treasure up for the day's work.\n\nLa Belle Isolde, who had watched Palamides from her window, had seen him\nchange his armor with the wounded knight. And when his treacherous\npurpose came to her mind she wept so heartily and was so deeply\ndisturbed that she swooned away.\n\nAt this juncture in the fray Lancelot rode again into the field, and\nwhen the knights of Arthur's party saw him the cry went up. \"Return,\nreturn, here comes Sir Lancelot du Lake!\"\n\nAnd some said to him, \"Sir Lancelot, yonder knight in the black harness\nis your man. He is the best of our opponents, and has nearly overcome\nthe good knight with the silver shield.\"\n\nAt this Lancelot rode between the combatants, and cried to Palamides,--\n\n\"Let me have this battle; you need repose.\"\n\nPalamides knew Lancelot, and readily gave way, hoping through his mighty\naid to gain revenge upon his rival. Then Lancelot fell upon Tristram,\nand, unknowing who he was, dealt him blows that would have stunned a\nless hardy fighter. Tristram returned them but feebly, for he knew well\nwith whom he fought. And Isolde, who saw it all, was half out of her\nmind with grief.\n\nDinadan now told Gareth who the knight in black armor was, and said,\n\"Lancelot will get the better of him, for one is weary and the other\nfresh, and Tristram is not fighting with his old vim. Let us to his\naid.\"\n\n\"I am with you,\" said Gareth. \"Yonder fellow with the silver shield is\nwaiting to fall on Tristram, if he can to advantage. It is our business\nto give our friend what help we can.\"\n\nThen they rode in, and Gareth struck Lancelot a sword-blow that made his\nhead swim, while Dinadan followed with a spear-thrust that bore horse\nand man together to the earth.\n\n\"Why do you this?\" cried Tristram, angrily. \"It is not a knightly act,\nand does not that good knight any dishonor. I was quite his match\nwithout you.\"\n\nThen Palamides came to Lancelot's aid, and a close medley of fighting\nbegan, in which Dinadan was unhorsed and Tristram pulled Palamides from\nhis saddle, and fell with him. Dinadan now sprang up and caught\nTristram's horse by the bridle, calling out, with purpose to end the\nfight,--\n\n\"My lord Sir Tristram, take your horse.\"\n\n\"What is this?\" cried Lancelot. \"What have I done? Sir Tristram, why\ncame you here disguised? Surely I would not have drawn sword on you, had\nI known you.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Tristram, \"this is not the first honor you have done me.\"\n\nThen they mounted their horses again, while the people on one side gave\nLancelot the honor of the fray, and those on the other side gave it to\nTristram.\n\n\"The honor is not mine,\" said Lancelot. \"He has been longer in the\nfield, and has smitten down many more knights; so I give my voice for\nSir Tristram, and pray to all my lords and fellows to do the same.\"\n\nThis was the verdict of the judges, and the prize of that day's tourney\nwas by all voted to the noble Sir Tristram.\n\nThen the trumpets blew to lodging, and the knights left the field, while\nQueen Isolde was conducted to her pavilion. But her heart burned hot\nwith wrath against Palamides, all whose treachery she had seen. As\nTristram rode forward with Gareth and Dinadan, Palamides joined them,\nstill disguised.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" said Tristram, \"you are not of our party, and your company\nis not welcome. So begone.\"\n\n\"Not I,\" he answered. \"One of the best knights in the world bade me keep\nfellowship with you, and till he relieve me from that service I must\nobey him.\"\n\n\"Ha, Palamides, I know you now!\" said Tristram. \"But, by my faith, I did\nnot know you before, for I deemed you a worthy knight and not a traitor.\nI could have handled you well enough, but you brought Lancelot to your\naid against me.\"\n\n\"Are you my lord, Sir Tristram?\" said Palamides, in a tone of surprise.\n\n\"That you know, well enough.\"\n\n\"How should I know it any more than you knew me? I deemed you the king\nof Ireland, for you bear his arms.\"\n\n\"I won them in battle, from his champion Sir Marhaus,\" said Tristram.\n\n\"Sir,\" answered Palamides, \"I fancied you had joined Lancelot's party,\nand that caused me to turn to the same side.\"\n\n\"If that be so, I forgive you,\" said Tristram.\n\nBut when they reached the pavilion and had disarmed and washed, and were\ncome to table, Isolde grew red with wrath on seeing Palamides.\n\n\"You traitor and felon!\" she cried, \"how dare you thrust yourself into\nthis goodly company? You know not how falsely he has treated you, my\nlord Tristram. I saw it all. He watched you when you rode to your tent\nand donned the black armor. Then he changed armor with a wounded knight\nand rode back and wilfully changed sides, and drew sword upon you. I saw\nit all, my lord, and I impeach him of treason.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said Palamides, calmly, \"you may say what you will. I cannot in\ncourtesy deny you. Yet by my knighthood I declare I knew not Sir\nTristram.\"\n\n\"I will take your excuse,\" said Tristram, \"though it seems a lame one.\nYou spared me little in the field, but all that I have pardoned.\"\n\nAt this, Isolde held down her head in despite and said no more.\n\nWhile they were still at table two knights rode to the pavilions, and\nentered in full armor.\n\n\"Fair sirs,\" said Tristram, \"is this courtesy, to come upon us thus\narmed at our meal?\"\n\n\"We come with no ill intent,\" said one, \"but as your friends, Sir\nTristram.\"\n\n\"I am come,\" said the other, \"to greet you as a friend and comrade, and\nmy companion is eager to see and welcome La Belle Isolde.\"\n\n\"Then remove your helms, that I may see what guests I have.\"\n\n\"That we do, willingly.\"\n\nNo sooner were their helmets off than Tristram sprang hastily to his\nfeet.\n\n\"Madam, arise,\" he cried; \"this is none less than my lord King Arthur;\nand this my very dear friend Sir Lancelot.\"\n\nThen the king and queen kissed, and Lancelot and Tristram warmly\nembraced, while deep joy filled all hearts there. At the request of\nIsolde the visitors removed their armor and joined them at their meal.\n\n\"Many is the day that I have longed to see you,\" said Arthur to Isolde,\n\"for much praise have I heard of you, and not without warrant. For a\nnobler match for beauty and valor than you and Sir Tristram the world\ndoes not hold.\"\n\n\"We thank you heartily,\" replied Tristram and Isolde. \"Such praise from\nKing Arthur is the highest honor that men's lips could give.\"\n\nThen they talked of other things, but mainly of the tournament.\n\n\"Why were you against us?\" asked Arthur. \"You are a Knight of the Round\nTable, and have fought to-day against your own.\"\n\n\"Here is Dinadan, and your own nephew Gareth. You must blame them for\nthat,\" said Tristram, smiling.\n\n\"You may lay all the blame on my shoulders, if Tristram wishes it,\" said\nGareth.\n\n\"Not on mine, then,\" said Dinadan. \"Mine are only broad enough to carry\nmy own sins. It was this unhappy Tristram brought us to the tournament,\nand I owe to him a whole body full of aches and pains as it is, without\ntaking any of his sins in my sack, to boot.\"\n\nAt this the king and Lancelot laughed heartily, and the more so at the\nsour grimace with which Dinadan ended.\n\n\"What knight was he with the shield of silver that held you so short?\"\nasked Arthur.\n\n\"Here he sits,\" said Tristram.\n\n\"What! was it Palamides?\"\n\n\"None less than he,\" said Isolde.\n\n\"That was not a courteous action.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Palamides, \"Tristram was so disguised that I knew him not.\"\n\n\"That may well be,\" said Lancelot, \"for I knew him no better.\"\n\n\"However it be, we are friends again,\" said Tristram, \"and I hope will\ncontinue so.\"\n\nAnd so the evening passed, till the time came for Arthur and Lancelot to\ntake their leave.\n\nThat night Palamides slept not for the pain and envy that burned in his\nheart. But when his friends entered his chamber in the morning they\nfound him fast asleep, with his cheeks stained with tears.\n\n\"Say nothing,\" said Tristram. \"The poor fellow has been deeply wounded\nby the rebuke that I and Isolde gave him. Lay no heavier load upon his\nheart.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nTHE WOES OF TWO LOVERS.\n\n\nEarly on the third morning of the tournament the knights of Tristram's\nparty were up and armed, they now being all arrayed in red, as was also\nIsolde and her maidens. And rare was the show they made as they rode\ngayly to the priory, where they left Isolde and her maidens to occupy\ntheir proper seats. As the knights turned thence towards the field they\nheard three loud bugle-blasts, and saw the throng of armed knights press\neagerly forward, while already from the listed space came the thunder of\nhoofs and the cries of combatants.\n\nInto the field they rode, Palamides in advance, and such havoc did he\nmake in the opposing ranks that shouts of approval went up from all the\nseats. But Tristram now rode forward at the full speed of his great\nwar-horse, hurled Kay the seneschal from his saddle, smote down three\nother knights with the same spear, and then, drawing his sword, laid\nabout him like a roused giant.\n\nQuickly changed the cry from Palamides. \"O Tristram! O Tristram!\"\nshouted the throng of spectators, and the deeds of this new champion\nthrew those of the former victor into the shade.\n\nGareth and Dinadan also nobly aided the two champions, rousing the\nadmiration of Arthur and Lancelot by their gallantry, and the four\nknightly comrades soon cleared a wide space in the ranks before them.\n\n\"Come,\" said Arthur, \"we must to the rescue, or our side will be driven\nfrom the field before the day is an hour old. See how the others crowd\nin on Tristram's steps, like wolves to the prey.\"\n\nThen he and Lancelot hastily armed and sought the field, where they\nquickly fought their way into the thickest press of the tumult.\nTristram, not knowing them, rode upon them and thrust King Arthur from\nhis horse, and when Lancelot rushed to his rescue he was surrounded with\nsuch an eager host that he was pulled from his saddle to the ground.\n\nSeeing this, the kings of Ireland and Scotland, with their knights,\nrushed forward to take Lancelot and Arthur prisoners. But they counted\nwithout their host, for the dismounted knights laid about them like\nangry lions, driving back all who came near them. Of all that passed in\nthat hot turmoil it were too much to say. Many a knight there did deeds\nof great prowess, and Arthur and Lancelot being mounted again, strewed\nthe earth with fallen knights, Lancelot that day unhorsing thirty\nwarriors. Yet the other side held so firmly together that, with all\ntheir ardent labor, Arthur and his party were overmatched.\n\nAt this juncture, Tristram turned to his companions and said,--\n\n\"My good comrades, I begin to fancy that we are to-day on the wrong\nside. King Arthur's party is overborne more by numbers than valor, for I\nmust say I never saw so few men do so well. It would be a shame for us,\nwho are Knights of the Round Table, to see our lord Arthur and our good\ncomrade Lancelot dishonored. I am in the humor to change sides, and help\nour king and liege lord.\"\n\n\"We are with you in that,\" cried Gareth and Dinadan. \"We have been\nfighting against the grain these three days.\"\n\n\"Do as you will,\" said Palamides. \"I shall not change my hand in the\nmidst of the fray.\"\n\n\"As you will,\" said Tristram. \"You are your own master. Speed well in\nyour way, and we will do our best in ours.\"\n\nThen he, Gareth, and Dinadan drew out of the press and rode round to\nArthur's side, where they lent such noble aid that the fortune of the\nfield quickly changed, and the opposing party began to give ground. As\nfor Palamides, King Arthur struck him so fierce a blow that he was\nhurled from his horse, while Tristram and Lancelot unhorsed all before\nthem. Such havoc did they make, indeed, that the party of the opposing\nkings was soon in full flight from the field, bearing Palamides, who\nwept for rage and grief, with them.\n\nThen rarely sounded the trumpets, and loudly shouted the spectators,\nwhile the names of Tristram and Lancelot were in every mouth, some\nvoting one the prize, some the other. But neither of these good comrades\nwould have it alone, so that in the end it was divided between them.\n\nWhen evening drew near, and the knights had all withdrawn to their\npavilions, Palamides rode up to that of Sir Tristram, in company with\nthe kings of Wales and Scotland. Here he drew up his horse, praying his\ncompanions to wait a while while he spoke to the knight within. Then he\ncried loudly at the entrance,--\n\n\"Where are you, Tristram of Lyonesse?\"\n\n\"Is that you, Palamides?\" answered the knight. \"Will you not dismount\nand join us?\"\n\n\"I seek better company, sir traitor,\" cried Palamides, in tones that\ntrembled with fury. \"I hate you now as much as I once esteemed you, and\nbear this in mind, if it were daylight as it is night, I would slay you\nwith my own hands. You shall die yet for this day's deeds.\"\n\n\"You blame me wrongly, Palamides,\" said Tristram, mildly. \"If you had\ndone as I advised you would have won honor instead of disgrace. Why come\nyou here seeking to lay your own fault on me? Since you give me such\nbroad warning, I shall be well on my guard against you.\"\n\n\"Well you may, sir dastard, for I love you not,\" and, fiercely spurring\nhis horse, the hot-blooded Saracen joined his kingly companions.\n\nWhen the next day dawned the festive array which had long spread bustle\nand splendor round Lonazep broke up, and knights and ladies rode off in\nall directions through the land, to carry far and wide the story of the\nwondrous deeds of valor that had been performed at the great tournament.\nTristram and his two comrades, with Hector de Maris and Bleoberis,\nescorted La Belle Isolde to Joyous Gard, where for seven days the guests\nwere nobly entertained, with all the sports and mirthfulness that could\nbe devised. King Arthur and his knights drew back to Camelot, and\nPalamides rode onward with the two kings, his heart torn with mingled\nsorrow and despair. Not alone was he in grief for his disgrace in the\nfield, under the eyes of her he loved, but was full as sorrowful for the\nhot words he had spoken in his wrath to Tristram, who had been so kind\nand gentle to him that his heart was torn to think how falsely and\ntreacherously he had requited him.\n\nHis kingly companions would have had him stay with them, but he could\nnot be persuaded, so the king of Ireland presented him with a noble\ncourser, and the king of Scotland with valuable gifts, and he rode his\nway, still plunged in a grief that was almost despair. Noon brought him\nto a forest fountain, beside which lay a wounded knight, who sighed so\nmournfully that the very leaves on the trees seemed to sigh in echo.\n\n\"Why mourn you so, fair knight?\" asked Palamides, mildly. \"Or if you\ncare not to tell, at least let me lie beside you and join my moans to\nyours, for I dare say I have a hundredfold deeper cause for grief, and\nwe may ease our hearts by mutual complaints.\"\n\n\"What is your name, gentle sir?\"\n\n\"Such as I am, for better or worse, men call me Palamides, son to King\nAstlabor.\"\n\n\"Noble sir, it solaces me much to meet you. I am Epinegris, son to the\nking of Northumberland. Now repose you on this mossy bank and let us\ntell our woes, and so ease somewhat our sad hearts.\"\n\nThen Palamides dismounted and laid himself beside the wounded knight.\n\n\"This is my source of woe,\" he said. \"I love the fairest queen that ever\ndrew breath, La Belle Isolde, Cornwall's queen.\"\n\n\"That is sheer folly,\" said Epinegris, \"for she loves none but Tristram\nde Lyonesse.\"\n\n\"Know I it not? I have been in their company this month, daily reaping\nsorrow. And now I have lost the fellowship of Tristram and the love of\nIsolde forever, through my envy and jealousy, and never more shall a\nglad thought enter my sorrowful heart.\"\n\n\"Did she ever show you signs of love?\"\n\n\"Never. She hated me, I fear. And the last day we met she gave me such a\nrebuke that I will never recover from it:--yet well I deserved it by my\nunknightly acts. Many great deeds have I done for her love, yet never\nshall I win a smile from her eyes.\"\n\n\"Deep is your grief, indeed,\" said Epinegris, with a heart-breaking\nsigh, \"yet it is but a jest to my sorrow. For my lady loved me, and I\nwon her with my hands. But, alas! this day I have lost her and am left\nhere to moan. I took her from an earl and two knights that were with\nher; but as we sat here this day, telling each other of our loves, there\ncame an errant knight, named Helior de Preuse, and challenged me to\nfight for my lady. You see what followed. He wounded me so that he left\nme for dead and took my lady with him. So my sorrow is deepest, for I\nhave rejoiced in my love, and you never have. To have and lose is far\nworse than never to own.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" said Palamides. \"But yet I have the deepest cause for\ngrief, for your love is not hopeless, like mine. And I shall prove this,\nfor if I can find this Helior he shall be made to yield you your lady,\nunless he prove able to deal with me as he has with you.\"\n\nThen he helped Epinegris on his horse and led him to a hermitage near\nby, where he left him under the care of the holy hermit. Here Palamides\nstayed not long, but walked out under the shadow of the green leaves, to\nbe a while alone with his woes. But not far had he gone before he saw\nnear him a knight, who bore a shield that he had seen Hector de Maris\nwear. With him were ten other knights, who sheltered themselves from the\nnoontide heat under the green leaves.\n\nAs they stood there another knight came by whose shield was green, with\na white lion in its midst, and who led a lady on a palfrey. As he came\nup, the knight who bore Sir Hector's shield rode fiercely after him, and\nbade him turn and defend his lady.\n\n\"That I must, in knightly duty,\" cried the other.\n\nThen the two knights rode together with such might that horses and men\ntogether were hurled to the earth. Drawing their swords, they now fought\nsturdily for the space of an hour. In the end the knight of the white\nlion was stricken to the earth and forced to beg for his life.\n\nPalamides stood under the leaves, watching this combat till it came to\nits end. Then he went to the lady, whom he believed to be her whom he\nhad promised to rescue. Taking her gently by the hand, he asked her if\nshe knew a knight named Epinegris.\n\n\"Alas! that ever I did,\" she sadly replied. \"For his sake I have lost my\nliberty, and for mine he has lost his life.\"\n\n\"Not so badly as that,\" said Palamides. \"He is at yonder hermitage. I\nwill take you to him.\"\n\n\"Then he lives!\" she cried in joy. \"You fill my heart with gladness.\"\n\nBut not many steps had Palamides led her before the victorious knight\ncried out in tones of fierce anger,--\n\n\"Loose the lady, sirrah! Whither take you her?\"\n\n\"Whither I will?\" answered Palamides.\n\n\"You speak largely, sir knave,\" cried the knight. \"Do you fancy you can\nrob me of my prize so lightly? Think it not, sirrah; were you as good a\nknight as Lancelot or Tristram or Palamides, you should not have that\nlady without winning her at a dearer rate than I did.\"\n\n\"If fight it is, I am ready for you,\" answered Palamides. \"I promised to\nbring this lady to her lover from whom yonder knight stole her, and it\nwill need more swords than one to make me break my word.\"\n\n\"We shall see if that be so,\" said the other, attacking him so fiercely\nthat Palamides had much ado to protect himself. They fought for so long\na time that Palamides marvelled much who this knight could be that\nwithstood him so sturdily after his late hard battle.\n\n\"Knight,\" he said, at length, \"you fight like a hero. I would know your\nname.\"\n\n\"You shall have it for yours in return.\"\n\n\"I agree to that.\"\n\n\"Then, sir, my name is Safere. I am son of King Astlobar, and brother to\nPalamides and Segwarides.\"\n\n\"Then heaven defend me for having fought you, for I am your brother\nPalamides.\"\n\nAt these words Safere fell upon his knees and begged his brother's\npardon; and then they unlaced their helms and kissed each other with\ntears of joy.\n\nAs they stood thus, Epinegris advanced towards them, for he had heard\nthe sounds of fighting, and, wounded as he was, he came to help\nPalamides if he should stand in need.\n\nPalamides, seeing him approach, took the lady by the hand and led her to\nhim, and they embraced so tenderly that all hearts there were touched.\n\n\"Fair knight and lady,\" said Safere, \"it would be a cruel pity to part\nyou, and I pray heaven to send you joy of each other.\"\n\n\"You have my sincere thanks,\" said Epinegris. \"And deeper thanks has Sir\nPalamides for what he has done for me this day. My castle is near by;\nwill you not ride there with me as a safeguard?\"\n\n\"That we gladly will,\" they said, and when Epinegris had got his horse\nthey rode with him and the lady to the castle, where they were nobly\nreceived and treated with the highest honor. They had such good cheer\nand such enjoyment as they had rarely before known. And never burned the\nflame of love more warmly than that between Epinegris and his rescued\nlady.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nTHE RIVALRY OF TRISTRAM AND PALAMIDES.\n\n\nWhen morning again dawned over the forest and the smiling fields that\nsurrounded the castle of Epinegris, the two brothers rode out, taking\nwith them the blessings and prayers for good fortune of those they left\nbehind. But had they known into what deadly peril they ventured they\nwould not for days have left those hospitable gates.\n\nFor they rode on hour by hour, until afternoon came, and then found\nthemselves in front of a noble manor-house from which came to their ears\ndoleful sounds of woe and lamentation.\n\n\"What means this woful noise? Shall we enter and see?\" said Safere.\n\n\"Willingly,\" answered Palamides.\n\nLeaving their horses at the gates, they entered the court-yard, where\nthey saw an old man tremblingly fumbling his beads. But when they came\nwithin the hall they beheld many men weeping and lamenting.\n\n\"Fair sirs, why make you such a moaning?\" asked Palamides.\n\n\"We weep for our lord, who is slain,\" they dolefully replied.\n\nBut one of the knights observed the new-comers closely, and said\nsecretly to his fellows,--\n\n\"Know you not this man? Fortune has thrown into our hands the knight who\nslew our lord at Lonazep. That tall fellow is Palamides. Let him not go\nas easily as he came.\"\n\nHearing this, most of them quietly withdrew and armed themselves, and\nthen came suddenly upon their visitors to the number of threescore,\ncrying,--\n\n\"Defend yourself, if you can, Sir Palamides. We know you for the\nmurderer of our lord, and it is our duty to revenge him. Die you shall,\nthough you had the might of a giant.\"\n\nPalamides and his brother, finding themselves in this desperate strait,\nset themselves back to back in the midst of their assailants, and fought\nlike very giants, keeping their ground for two hours, though they were\nattacked by twenty knights and forty gentlemen and yeomen. But strength\ncannot hold out forever against odds, and at the end they were forced to\nyield, and were locked up in a strong prison.\n\nWithin three days thereafter a court of twelve knights sat upon the\ncharge against them, and found Sir Palamides guilty of their lord's\ndeath.\n\nSir Safere, who was adjudged not guilty, was given his liberty, and\nbidden to depart from the castle. He parted with his brother in the\ndeepest woe.\n\n\"Dear brother, grieve not so greatly,\" said Palamides. \"If die I must, I\nshall meet death bravely. But had I dreamed of such a doom as this, they\nshould never have taken me alive.\"\n\n[Illustration: Copyright 1895 by E. A. Abbey; from a Copely print\ncopyright 1896 by Curtis and Cameron.\n\nTHE DEPARTURE.]\n\nThen Safere departed in untold sorrow, though not without hope of rescue\nif he could raise a force to storm the castle. This he had no chance to\ndo, for on the next morning Palamides was sent under an escort of twelve\nknights to the father of the dead knight, who dwelt in a strong castle\nby the sea-side, named Pelownes, where it had been decided that the\nsentence should be put into execution.\n\nPalamides was placed on a sorry old steed with his feet bound beneath\nit, and, surrounded by the guard of twelve armed knights, was taken\ntowards the place of death.\n\nBut through the favor of fortune their route lay by the castle of Joyous\nGard, and here they were seen by one who knew Palamides, and who asked\nhim whither he was borne.\n\n\"To my death,\" he answered, \"for the slaying of a knight at the\ntournament. Had I not left Sir Tristram this would not have happened to\nme. I pray you, recommended me to your lord and to my lady Isolde, and\nbeg them to forgive me my trespasses against them. And also to my lord\nKing Arthur, and to all my fellows of the Round Table.\"\n\nWhen the yeoman heard this he rode in all haste to Joyous Gard, where he\ntold Tristram of what he had seen and heard.\n\n\"To his death, you say?\" cried Tristram. \"And for an accident of the\ntournament? Why, I and twenty others might be served in the same manner.\nI have reason to be angry with Palamides, but he shall not die the death\nof a dog if I can rescue him.\"\n\nThis said, he armed in all haste, and taking two squires with him, he\nrode at a fast gallop towards the castle of Pelownes, hoping to overtake\nthe party before they could pass its gates.\n\nBut fortune had decreed that the prisoner should be otherwise rescued.\nFor as the guard of knights rode on their way they passed by a well\nwhere Lancelot had alighted to drink of the refreshing waters.\n\nWhen he saw the cavalcade approach he put on his helmet and stood\nwatching them as they passed. But his heart swelled with anger when he\nsaw Palamides disarmed and bound in their midst, and seemingly led to\nhis death.\n\n\"What means this?\" he cried. \"What has this knight done that deserves a\nshameful death? Whatever it be, I cannot suffer him to be foully dealt\nwith.\"\n\nThen he mounted and rode after the twelve knights, soon overtaking them.\n\n\"Sir knights,\" he said, \"whither take you that gentleman? To ride thus\nbound is not befitting for a man of his metal.\"\n\nAt this the guard of knights turned their horses and faced Lancelot.\n\n\"We counsel you not to meddle with us,\" they said, sternly. \"This man\nhas deserved death, and to death he is adjudged.\"\n\n\"I tell you, sirs, it shall not be. He is too good a knight to die a\nshameful death. Defend yourselves, then, for I will try my one hand\nagainst your twelve, and rescue him or die in the effort.\"\n\nThe knights of the guard now put their spears in rest, and Lancelot rode\nupon them with such fury that the foremost and three of those behind him\nwere hurled to the ground before his spear broke. Then he drew his sword\nand laid about him so shrewdly that in a little time the whole twelve of\nthem were stretched upon the earth, most of them being sorely wounded.\nLancelot now cut the bonds of Palamides, mounted him upon the best of\ntheir horses, and rode back with him towards Joyous Gard.\n\nAs they went forward they saw Sir Tristram approaching. Lancelot knew\nhim at sight, but was himself unknown, because he bore a golden shield\nwhich neither Tristram nor Palamides recognized. He therefore mystified\nthem for a time, and declined to enter Joyous Gard on the plea that he\nhad other pressing business on hand. But when strongly entreated, he at\nlength consented, and entered the castle with them.\n\nGreat was their surprise and joy when he had unhelmed, to find that they\nhad their host for guest. Tristram took him in his arms, and so did\nIsolde, while Palamides kneeled before him and thanked him for his life.\nWhen Lancelot saw this he took him by the hand and made him rise.\n\n\"Good sirs,\" he said, \"could I, or any knight of worship in this land,\nhesitate to rescue from an ignoble death such a knight as Palamides? Had\nthere been fifty instead of twelve, I fear I should have braved them\nall.\"\n\nMuch joy was there in Joyous Gard at the visit of the lord of the\ncastle, but Lancelot stayed there but four days. Palamides, however,\nremained for two months and more, his love and grief growing deeper,\ntill he faded away to a shadow of himself.\n\nOne day, at the end of this time, he wandered far into the neighboring\nforest, and here by chance saw the reflection of his face in a clear\npool. The wasted visage disturbed and affrighted him.\n\n\"What does this mean?\" he asked himself. \"Am I, who was called one of\nthe handsomest knights in the world, wasted to such a frightful figure?\nI must leave this life, for it is idle to grieve myself to death for\nthat which I can never possess.\"\n\nThen he threw himself beside the well, and from the fulness of his heart\nbegan to make a song about La Belle Isolde and himself, a rhyme made up\nof music, love, and grief.\n\nAs chance would have it, Tristram had ridden into the forest that day in\nchase of the hart. And as he rode up and down under the green leaves the\nsummer air brought to his ears the sound of a voice singing loud and\nclear. He rode softly towards the sound, for he deemed that some\nknight-errant lay there solacing himself with song.\n\nWhen he came nigh he tied his horse to a tree and advanced on foot. Then\nhe became aware that the singer was his guest Palamides, and that his\nsong was about La Belle Isolde, a doleful and piteous, yet marvellously\nwell-made song, which the singer sang loudly and in a clear voice.\nTristram stood listening till he had heard it from beginning to end. But\nat the last his anger grew so high that he needed to restrain himself\nfrom slaying the singer where he lay.\n\nRemembering that Palamides was unarmed, he resisted this impulse, and\nadvanced slowly towards him.\n\n\"Sir Palamides,\" he said, in a gentle voice, \"I have heard your song,\nand learned your treason to your host. If it were not for the shame of\nan unknightly act I would deal you here the meed you have earned. How\nwill you acquit yourself of treachery?\"\n\n\"Thus will I,\" said Palamides, springing to his feet in his surprise.\n\"As for Queen Isolde, you may know well that I love her above all other\nladies in the world. I loved her before you ever saw her, as you know,\nand have never ceased nor shall ever cease to love her. What honor I\nhave won is due for the most part to my love of her. Yet never for a\nmoment has she returned my love, and I have been her knight without\nguerdon. Therefore I dread not death, for I had as lief die as live.\"\n\n\"Well have you uttered your treason,\" said Tristram.\n\n\"No treason is it,\" said Palamides. \"Love is free to all men, and I have\na right to love any lady I will. If she return it not, no man is harmed.\nSuch wrong as is done I have suffered, not you, for your love is\nreturned and mine has brought me but pain. Yet I shall continue to love\nLa Belle Isolde to the end of my days as deeply as you can.\"\n\nThat there was reason in these words Tristram could not but have seen,\nhad not anger blinded his wisdom.\n\n\"None shall love my lady but myself,\" he cried, in passion. \"And for\nwhat you have said I challenge you to battle to the uttermost.\"\n\n\"I can never fight in a better quarrel,\" said Palamides. \"And if you\nslay me I can never die by a nobler hand. Since I cannot hope for favor\nfrom La Belle Isolde, I have as good will to die as to live.\"\n\n\"Then set a day in which we shall do battle in this cause.\"\n\n\"Let it be fifteen days hence. And let the place be in the meadow under\nJoyous Gard.\"\n\n\"Why so long a time?\" demanded Tristram. \"To-morrow will suit me\nbetter.\"\n\n\"It is because I am meagre and weak, and have fallen away to a shadow\nthrough hopeless love. I must rest until I get my strength again before\nI can face so doughty a knight.\"\n\n\"So let it be, then,\" said Tristram. \"Yet once before you broke a\npromise to meet me in battle at the grave near Camelot.\"\n\n\"What could I do?\" rejoined Palamides. \"I was in prison, and could not\nkeep my word.\"\n\n\"If you had done so, there would have been no need of a fight now,\" said\nTristram, as he strode haughtily away.\n\nThen Palamides took his horse and rode to Arthur's court, where he did\nhis utmost to rest and regain strength. When the appointed time\napproached he returned, attended by four knights and four\nsergeant-at-arms.\n\nMeanwhile Tristram spent his time at the chase. And by evil fortune,\nabout three days before the time of battle, a wild arrow shot by an\narcher at a hart struck him in the thigh and wounded him so deeply that\nhe could scarcely return to Joyous Gard.\n\nGreat was his heaviness of heart, and neither man nor woman could bring\nhim cheer, for it was now impossible to keep his word with his rival;\nand his heart grew full of the fancy that Palamides himself had shot\nthat arrow, so as to prevent him doing battle on the appointed day. But\nthis no knight about Tristram would believe.\n\nWhen the fifteenth day came Palamides appeared at the place fixed, with\nthe knights and sergeants whom he had brought with him to bear record of\nthe battle. One sergeant bore his helm, a second his spear, and a third\nhis shield. And for two hours he rested in the field, awaiting the\napproach of his antagonist.\n\nThen, seeing that Tristram failed to come, he sent a squire to Joyous\nGard to remind him of his challenge. When Tristram heard of this message\nhe had the squire brought to his chamber, and showed him his wound.\n\n\"Tell Sir Palamides,\" he said, \"that were I able to come he would not\nneed to send for me, and that I had rather be whole to-day than have all\nKing Arthur's gold. Tell him, moreover, that as soon as I am able I\nshall seek him throughout the land, as I am a true knight; and when I\nfind him he shall have his fill of battle.\"\n\nThis message the squire brought to his master, who heard it with much\nsecret satisfaction.\n\n\"I would have had hard handling of him, and very likely have been\nvanquished,\" he said, \"for he has not his equal in battle, unless it be\nSir Lancelot. So I am well content to give up the fight.\"\n\nA month passed before Tristram was well. Then he took his horse and rode\nfrom country to country in search of Palamides, having many strange\nadventures by the way, but nowhere could he meet or hear of his rival\nin love. But during his search Tristram did so many valiant deeds that\nhis fame for the time quite overtopped that of Lancelot, so much so that\nLancelot's kinsmen in their anger would have waylaid and slain the\nvaliant warrior.\n\nFor this jealousy Lancelot sternly rebuked them, saying,--\n\n\"Bear it well in mind, that if any of you does any harm to Sir Tristram,\nthat man shall I slay with my own hands. To murder a man like this for\nhis noble deeds! Out upon such base designs! Far rather should you\nworship him for his valor and royal prowess.\"\n\nAnd so time went on for the space of two years, during which Tristram\nsought in vain for his rival.\n\nAt the end of that time he came home to Joyous Gard from one of his\njourneys of adventure, and there was told by La Belle Isolde of a great\nfeast to be held at the court on the coming day of Pentecost, which she\ncounselled him strongly to attend.\n\nMuch debate passed between him and his lady-love on this subject, for he\nwas loth to go without her, and she cared not to go. In the end he\ndeclared that he would obey her wishes, but would ride thither unarmed,\nsave for his sword and spear.\n\nThis he did, and though she in her loving anxiety sent after him four\nknights, he sent them back within half a mile. Yet he soon had reason to\nrepent his rashness. For hardly had he gone a mile farther when he came\nupon a wounded knight, who told him he owed his hurt to Sir Palamides.\nWhat to do now, Tristram knew not. Near by was the foe he had so long\nsought in vain, and he was unarmed. Should he ride back for his armor,\nor go on as he was?\n\nWhile he stood thinking, Palamides appeared, and knew him at sight.\n\n\"Well met, Sir Tristram!\" he cried. \"I have heard much of your search\nfor me. You have found me now, and we shall not part till we have\nsettled our old scores.\"\n\n\"As for that,\" answered Tristram, \"no Christian can boast that I ever\nfled from him, nor shall a Saracen make this boast, even if I be\nunarmed.\"\n\nThen he put his horse to the gallop and rode on Palamides with such fury\nthat his spear broke into a hundred pieces. Throwing it away, he drew\nhis sword and struck Palamides six great strokes upon the helm, while\nthe Saracen stood unresisting, and wondering at the folly and madness of\nhis foe. Then Tristram cried out in fury,--\n\n\"Coward knight, why stand you thus idly? You dare not do battle with me,\nfor doubt not but I can endure all your strength and malice.\"\n\n\"You know well, Sir Tristram,\" answered Palamides, \"that I cannot in\nhonor strike at your unarmed head. If I should slay you thus, shame\nwould be my lot. As for your valor and hardiness, those I shall never\nquestion.\"\n\n\"You speak well,\" answered Tristram.\n\n\"Tell me this,\" continued Palamides. \"Were I here naked of armor, and\nyou full armed as I am, what would you do?\"\n\n\"I shall not answer from fear, but from truthfulness. I would bid you\ndepart, as I could not have ado with you.\"\n\n\"No more can I with you,\" said Palamides, \"therefore ride on your way.\"\n\n\"I shall ride or abide as I may choose,\" said Tristram. \"But tell me\nthis, Palamides: how is it that so good a knight as you refuses to be\nchristened, as your brothers have long been?\"\n\n\"I cannot become a Christian till a vow I made years ago is fulfilled. I\nbelieve fully in Jesus Christ and His mild mother Mary; but there is one\nbattle yet I must fight, and when that is done I will be baptized with a\ngood will.\"\n\n\"If that is the battle with me,\" said Tristram, \"you shall not long wait\nfor it. For God defend that through my fault you should continue a\nSaracen. Yonder is a knight whom you have hurt. Help me to put on his\narmor and I will aid you to fulfil your vow.\"\n\nSo they rode together to the wounded knight, who was seated on a bank.\nTristram saluted him, and he weakly returned the salute.\n\n\"Will you tell me your name, sir knight?\" asked Tristram.\n\n\"I am Sir Galleron of Galway, and a Knight of the Round Table.\"\n\n\"I am sorry for your hurts, and beg you to lend me your armor, for I am\nunarmed, and would do battle with this knight who wounded you.\"\n\n\"You shall have it with a good will. But you must beware, for this is no\ncommon knight.\"\n\n\"I know him well,\" answered Tristram, \"and have an old quarrel with\nhim.\"\n\n\"Will you kindly tell me your name?\"\n\n\"My name is Tristram de Lyonesse.\"\n\n\"Then it was idle to warn you. Well I know your renown and worship; and\nSir Palamides is likely to have no light task.\"\n\nTristram now took off the armor of the wounded knight, who, as well as\nhe could, helped him to put it on himself. This accomplished, Tristram\nmounted his horse and took in his hand Sir Galleron's spear.\n\nRiding to where Palamides stood waiting, he bade him make ready. In a\nminute more the two strong knights came hurtling together like two\nlions. Each smote the other in the centre of the shield, but Palamides's\nspear broke, while that of Tristram overturned the horse of Palamides.\nIn a moment the unhorsed knight had sprung to his feet and drawn his\nsword, while Tristram alighted, tied his horse to a tree, and advanced\nto the fray.\n\nThe combat that succeeded was a hard and well-fought one, as only it\ncould be between two such knights. For more than two hours it continued,\nTristram often bringing Palamides to his knees by his mighty strokes,\nwhile Palamides cut through Tristram's shield and wounded him. Then, in\na fury of anger, Tristram rushed upon his rival and hurled him to the\nearth. But in an instant the agile Saracen was on his feet again,\nfighting with all his old strength and skill. And so the combat went on,\nhour by hour, and, hard as Tristram fought, Palamides stood as nobly to\nhis work, and gave him stroke for stroke.\n\nBut, as fortune willed, in the end a fierce blow struck the sword from\nPalamides's hand, nor dare he stoop for it, for fear of being slain. So\nhe stood moveless, regarding it with a sorrowful heart.\n\n\"Now,\" said Tristram, \"I have you at advantage, as you had me this day.\nBut it shall never be said that Tristram de Lyonesse killed a weaponless\nknight. Therefore take your sword, and let us make an end of this\nbattle.\"\n\n\"As for that, I am willing to end it now,\" said Palamides. \"I have no\nwish to fight longer. Nor can I think that my offence is such that we\nmay not be friends. All I have done is to love La Belle Isolde. You will\nnot say that I have done her aught of dishonor by holding that she is\npeerless among ladies, or by the valor which love for her has given me.\nAs for such offence as I have given you, I have atoned for it this day,\nand no one can say that I have not held my own like a man. But this I\nwill affirm, that I never before fought with a man of your might.\nTherefore I beg you to forgive me for all wrongs which I have done you,\nand as my vow is now fulfilled, I stand ready to go with you to the\nnearest church, there to be confessed, and to receive baptism as a true\nand earnest Christian knight.\"\n\n\"I gladly forgive you all you have done against me,\" said Tristram; \"the\nmore so that you have done it rather from love than from hatred. It\nfills my heart with joy to be the means of bringing the valiant\nPalamides into the Church of Christ, and hereafter I shall hold you\namong my best friends. Within a mile from here is the suffragan of\nCarlisle, who will gladly give you the sacrament of baptism; and all\nChristendom must rejoice to gain so noble a convert.\"\n\nThen they took their horses and helped Galleron to his, and rode to the\nchurch, where Tristram told the suffragan the purpose of their coming.\nProud to bring into the fold of the church so notable a convert, the\nsuffragan filled a great vessel with water, and hallowed it. This done,\nhe confessed and baptized Sir Palamides, while Tristram and Galleron\nstood as his godfathers.\n\nAfterwards the three knights rode to Camelot, much to the joy of the\nking and queen, who gladly welcomed Tristram to their court, and were no\nless glad to learn that the valiant Palamides had become a Christian,\nand that the long rivalry between him and Tristram was at an end. The\ngreat feast of Pentecost that followed was the merriest that had ever\nbeen held at Arthur's court, and the merriest that ever would be, for\nthe breath of coming woe and trouble was in the air, and the time was\nnear at hand in which that worthy fellowship of noble knights was\ndestined to break up in dire disaster.\n\nBut first of all the tide of disaster came upon Tristram the brave and\nIsolde the fair, as we must now relate. The chronicles tell the story at\nlength, but the record of treachery and crime had always best be short,\nand so we shall make that of King Mark, the murderer.\n\nMany years before the time to which we have now come, King Mark's\ntreachery had filled Cornwall with mischief and all the land with\nhorror, through a deed of frightful crime. And in thus wise it came\nabout. Cornwall had been invaded by a host of Saracens, but before they\ncould do any mischief, Prince Baldwin, King Mark's brother, attacked\nthem, burned their ships, and utterly destroyed them. Furious at heart\nthat his brother should win such honor, while he lay cowering with fear\nin his castle, Mark invited him to Tintagil, with his wife and child.\nThere suddenly charging him with treason for attacking the Saracens\nwithout orders, he stabbed him to the heart, and would have slain his\nwife and child as well had not the lady Anglides fled for life with her\nchild.\n\nMark sent after them an old knight named Sir Sadok, with orders to bring\nthem back to Tintagil. But he suffered them to escape, and brought back\nto the king a false tale that he had drowned the boy.\n\nMany years now passed by, during which Baldwin's son, Alexander the\norphan, grew up to be a youth large of limb and strong of arm. In due\ntime he was made a knight, whereupon Anglides produced the bloody\ndoublet and shirt of her murdered husband, which she had carefully\npreserved, and laid upon the young knight the duty of revenging his\nfather's death. The story of the crime had been diligently kept from\nhim, but he now accepted this heavy charge with alacrity, and vowed\nsolemnly to devote his life to the duty of revenging his murdered\nfather.\n\nNews of all this was quickly brought to King Mark, by a false knight who\nhoped to win favor by turning informer.\n\n\"By my halidom,\" cried Mark, \"whom can I trust? I fancied the young\nviper was dead years ago. That false hound, Sadok, let him escape. As I\nam a living man, he shall pay the penalty of his treason.\"\n\nSeizing a sword, he burst furiously from the chamber, and rushed madly\nthrough the castle in search of the knight who had deceived him. When\nSadok saw him coming, with fury in his face, he guessed what had\nhappened, and drew his own sword in haste.\n\n\"King Mark,\" he cried, \"beware how you come nigh me. I saved the life of\nAlexander, and glory in it, for you slew his father cowardly and\ntreacherously. And it is my hope and prayer that the youth may have the\nstrength and spirit to revenge the good Prince Baldwin on his murderer.\"\n\n\"What, traitor! What, dog! Do you dare rail thus at me?\" cried the king,\nand in a voice of fury he bade four knights of his following to slay the\ntraitor.\n\nThese knights drew their swords and advanced in a body on Sadok; but he\ngot the wall of them, and fought so shrewdly that he killed the whole\nfour in King Mark's presence.\n\nThen, shaking his clinched fist at the king, he said,--\n\n\"I would add your false body to the heap, but that I leave you for\nAlexander's revenge.\"\n\nThis said, he took horse and rode briskly away, and in all his court\nMark could not find a knight willing to pursue him, for all that held\nwith the king feared the old knight's sturdy arm.\n\nKing Mark now finding his wrath of no avail, set himself to devising\nsome scheme of treachery by which the danger that threatened him might\nbe removed. In the end he made a compact with Morgan le Fay and the\nqueen of Northgalis, both false sorceresses, in which they agreed to\nfill the land with ladies that were enchantresses, and with false\nknights like Malgrim and Breuse Sans Pite, so that the young knight\nAlexander le Orphelin should be surrounded with magic and treachery, and\nwithout doubt be taken prisoner or slain.\n\nSoon after his knighting, Alexander set out for King Arthur's court, and\non the way there had many adventures, in which he proved himself a\nknight of great valor and skill. Among these was a mighty battle with\nthe false knight Malgrim, whom in the end he killed.\n\nBut now Morgan le Fay sought to entrap him by her false devices. She\ngave him a sleeping draught, and had him taken in a horse-litter to a\ncastle of hers named La Belle Regard.\n\nHere she cured him of his wounds by healing salves, but not until he had\npromised that he would not set foot beyond the boundaries of that castle\nfor a twelvemonth and a day. When he had recovered, Alexander chafed\nbitterly at his confinement, for he felt sure that the pledge had been\nexacted from him to save King Mark from his vow of revenge. Yet his word\nheld him close prisoner.\n\nAs one day he wandered through the halls of the castle, like a young\nlion in a cage,--now heavy and sad, now burning with desire for\naction,--there came to him a damsel who was cousin to Morgan le Fay, and\nto whom the castle of La Belle Regard by right belonged.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" she said to him, \"I find you doleful of aspect; yet I bear\ntidings that should make you merry!\"\n\n\"I pray you tell them to me,\" he answered. \"I am here now a prisoner by\npromise, but must say that time hangs very heavy on my hands.\"\n\n\"You are more of a prisoner than you deem,\" she replied. \"My cousin,\nMorgan le Fay, keeps you here for purposes of her own which you will\nscarcely find to your liking.\"\n\n\"I fancy she keeps me here through an understanding with King Mark,\" he\nrejoined. \"I have no faith in her, but I cannot break my word of honor.\"\n\n\"Truly, fair sir,\" she said, \"I pity your unhappy lot, and have a plan\nin mind through which you may escape from this durance without loss of\nhonor.\"\n\n\"Do that and I shall owe you my life's service,\" he answered, warmly.\n\"Tell me, dear lady, by what means I can be freed.\"\n\n\"This I may justly say, that this castle of right belongs to me. I have\nbeen unjustly deprived of it, and in right and honor you are my\nprisoner, not Morgan's. I have an uncle who is a powerful nobleman, the\nEarl of Pase, and who hates Morgan le Fay above all persons. I shall\nsend to him, and pray him for my sake to destroy this castle, which\nharbors only evil customs. He will come at my wish and set fire to the\nbuilding throughout. As for you, I shall get you out at a private\npostern, and there have your horse and armor ready.\"\n\n\"Truly, fair maiden, you are as wise as you are beautiful,\" he answered,\nin eager accents. \"Release me from imprisonment to Morgan and I will\nhold myself your prisoner for life.\"\n\nThen she sent to her uncle the earl, and bade him come and burn that\nhaunt of mischief,--a design which he already had in mind.\n\nWhen the appointed day came the Earl of Pase sought the castle with four\nhundred knights, and set fire to it in all parts, ceasing not his\nefforts till there was not a stone left standing of the once proud\nstronghold.\n\nBut Alexander was not willing to take this as a release from his vow,\nbut stationed himself within the limits of the space where had stood the\ncastle of La Belle Regard, and made it known far and wide that he would\nhold that ground against all comers for a twelvemonth and a day.\n\nWord of this knightly challenge soon came to Arthur's court, where was\nthen a lady of famous beauty and great estate, known as Alice la Belle\nPilgrim, daughter of Duke Ansirus, called the pilgrim, since he went on\na pilgrimage to Jerusalem every third year.\n\nWhen this fair maiden heard of Alexander's challenge, she went into the\ngreat hall of Camelot and proclaimed in the hearing of all the knights\nthat whoever should overcome the champion of La Belle Regard should wed\nher and be lord of all her lands.\n\nThis done, she went to La Belle Regard, where she set up her pavilion\nbeside the piece of earth held by the young knight. And as the weeks\npassed by there came from all directions knights who had heard of\nAlexander's challenge and Alice's offer, and many a hard battle was\nfought. Yet from them all Alexander came as victor.\n\nBut the more he triumphed over his knightly foes the deeper he fell\ncaptive to his fair neighbor, for whom he grew to feel so deep a love\nthat it almost robbed him of his wits. Nor was his love unrequited, for\nhis valor and youthful beauty had filled her heart with as ardent a\npassion for him in return, and she prayed as warmly for his victory in\nevery combat as though he had been her chosen champion.\n\nAnd so time passed on, varied by fighting and love-making, till one day,\nafter Alexander had unhorsed two knights, there came to him the lady to\nwhom he owed the burning of the castle, who told Alice the whole story\nof what had then occurred.\n\n\"You worked wisely and well,\" answered Alice. \"Sir Alexander, indeed,\nhas not gained much more freedom, except it be freedom to fight. But\nthat is more his fault than yours.\"\n\n\"Have I not?\" exclaimed the young knight. \"I have gained freedom to love\nalso; for which I am ever beholden to this fair damsel.\"\n\nAt this Alice turned away with a rosy blush, while the maiden stood\nregarding them with merry smiles.\n\n\"I have, by right, the first claim on you, Sir Alexander,\" she said.\n\"But if this fair lady wants you, I should be sorry to stand in love's\nlight. I yield my claim in her favor.\"\n\nAs they thus conversed in merry mood, three knights rode up, who\nchallenged Alexander to joust for the proffered prize of the hand and\nestate of Alice la Belle Pilgrim. But the three of them got such falls\nthat they lost all desire to wed the lady, and, like all knights whom\nAlexander overcame, they were made to swear to wear no arms for a\ntwelvemonth and a day.\n\nYet love may bring weakness as well as strength, as the young lover was\nto find to his cost. For there came a day in which, as he stood looking\nfrom his pavilion, he saw the lady Alice on horseback outside, and so\ncharming did she appear in his eyes that his love for her became almost\na frenzy. So enamoured was he that all thought of life and its doings\nfled from his brain, and he grew like one demented.\n\nWhile he was in this state of love-lorn blindness the false-hearted\nknight Sir Mordred rode up with purpose to joust. But when he saw that\nthe youthful champion was besotted with admiration of his lady, and had\nno eyes or mind for aught beside, he thought to make a jest of him, and,\ntaking his horse by the bridle, led him here and there, designing to\nbring the lover to shame by withdrawing him from the place he had sworn\nto defend.\n\nWhen the damsel of the castle saw this, and found that no words of hers\nwould rouse Alexander from his blind folly, she burned with indignation,\nand bethought her of a sharper means of bringing him back to his lost\nsenses.\n\nSo she put on her armor and took a sword in her hand, and, mounting a\nhorse, rode upon him with the fury of a knight, giving him such a buffet\non the helm that he thought that fire flew from his eyes.\n\nWhen the besotted lover felt this stroke he came of a sudden to his\nwits, and felt for his sword. But the damsel fled to the pavilion and\nMordred to the forest, so that Alexander was left raging there, with no\nfoe to repay for that stinging blow.\n\nWhen he came to understand how the false knight would have shamed him,\nhis heart burned with wrath that Sir Mordred had escaped his hands. But\nthe two ladies had many a jest upon him for the knightly stroke which\nthe damsel had given him on the helm.\n\n\"Good faith,\" she said, \"I knew not how else to bring back his strayed\nwits. I fancy I would have given him some shrewd work to do if I had\nchosen to stand against him. These men think that none but they can wear\narmor and wield swords. I took pity on your champion, Alice, or it might\nhave gone hard with him,\" and she laughed so merrily that they could not\nbut join her in her mirth.\n\nAfter that nearly every day Alexander jousted with knights of honor and\nrenown, but of them all not one was able to put him to the worse, and he\nheld his ground to the twelvemonth's end, proving himself a knight of\nthe noblest prowess.\n\nWhen the year had reached its end and his pledge was fully kept, he\ndeparted from that place with Alice la Belle Pilgrim, who afterwards\nbecame his loving wife, and they lived together with great joy and\nhappiness in her country of Benoye.\n\nBut though he let love set aside for the time his vow of revenge on King\nMark, he did not forget the duty that lay before him, nor did that\nevil-minded king rest at ease under the knowledge that an avenger was in\nthe land. Many a false scheme he devised to keep Alexander from his\ncourt, and in the end his treacherous plots proved successful, for the\nyoung knight was murdered by some of King Mark's emissaries, with his\nfather's death still unrevenged.\n\nBut vengeance sleeps not, and destiny had decided that the false-hearted\nking should yet die in retribution for the murder of Prince Baldwin.\nAlexander left a son, who was named Bellengerus le Beuse, and who grew\nup to become a valiant and renowned knight. He it was who avenged the\nslaughter of Prince Baldwin, and also of Sir Tristram, for this noble\nknight was also slain by the felonious king, as we must now tell.\n\nThrough the good services of King Arthur and Queen Guenever, after\nTristram and Isolde had long dwelt at Joyous Gard, peace was made\nbetween them and King Mark, and they returned to Tintagil, where for a\nlong time all went on in seeming friendship and harmony.\n\nBut the false king nursed the demon of jealousy deep within his breast,\nand bided his time for revenge. At length, on a day when Tristram,\ndreaming not of danger, sat harping before La Belle Isolde, the\ntreacherous king rushed suddenly upon him with a naked sword in his hand\nand struck him dead at her feet.\n\nRetribution for this vile deed came quickly, for Bellengerus was at\nTintagil Castle at the time, brought there by thirst of vengeance, and\nwith a heart filled with double fury by the news of this dastardly deed,\nhe rushed upon King Mark as he stood in the midst of his knights and\ncourtiers, and struck him to the heart with his father's avenging\nblade.\n\nThen, aided by Dinas, Fergus, and others of Tristram's friends, he\nturned upon Andred and the remainder of King Mark's satellites, and when\nthe work of blood was done not one of these false-hearted knights\nremained alive, and the court of Cornwall was purged of the villany\nwhich had long reigned there supreme.\n\nBut La Belle Isolde loved Tristram with too deep a love to survive his\ndeath, and she fell swooning upon the cross above his tomb and there\nsobbed out her life; and she was buried by his side, that those who had\nbeen so united in life should not be parted in death.\n\nGreat was the grief and pity aroused throughout England, and through all\nlands where knighthood was held in honor, by this distressful event, for\nnever before had two such faithful lovers breathed mortal air. And long\nthereafter lovers made pilgrimages to their tomb, where many prayed\nfervently for a draught from that magic goblet from which Tristram and\nIsolde drank, and whose wine of love forever after ran so warmly in\ntheir veins.\n\n\n\n\n                              BOOK IX.\n\n                    THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE ENCHANTED CASTLE OF KING PELLAM.\n\n\nAfter many years had come and gone, and all at the court of Arthur the\nking had grown older and wiser, there came to pass a series of\nadventures more marvellous than had ever been known upon the earth\nbefore, and of a nobler kind than mere tourneyings and joustings, being\nno less than the quest of the holy vessel named the Sangreal, in which\nwas kept a portion of the blood of our blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ.\n\nAnd through this quest much disaster came upon the land, and the noble\nfellowship of the Round Table was broken up and destroyed, for many went\nin search of the holy vessel who had lived evil lives, and of these few\ncame back, but most of them died deaths of violence.\n\nThis sacred talisman--the Sangreal--had been brought to England\ncenturies before by Joseph of Arimathea, a follower of our Saviour, and\nhad passed down from him to his descendant, King Pellam, of Listengeise,\nhim whom Balin struck the dolorous stroke, and who was destined to lie\nin misery and pain until he should be healed of his wound by the winner\nof the holy vessel.\n\nBut to tell how this perilous quest began we must go long years back and\nrelate a story of strange adventures and marvellous deliverances.\n\nFor it had happened that during a feast of Whitsuntide Lancelot du Lake\nleft Arthur's court at Camelot and rode afar in search of adventures.\nAnd after a long journey, in which many strange things came to pass, he\narrived at Listengeise, the land of King Pellam. Here he rescued the\nking's fair daughter, Elaine, from a dismal enchantment, under which she\nhad long lain through the wiles of Morgan le Fay and the queen of\nNorthgalis, who hated her bitterly from her renown for beauty.\n\nAfter the rescue of the lady, Lancelot fought with and killed a mighty\nserpent that haunted a tomb near by, and had done much harm in the land.\nThen there came to him a dignified and noble baron, who thanked him\nheartily in the name of the king, and invited him to a repast in the\ncastle hall.\n\nBut as they sat at table a wonderful thing took place. For in at the\nopen window of the hall there flew a dove, which bore in its mouth what\nseemed a little censer of gold. And from this censer came such a rich\nand penetrating perfume as if all the spicery of the world had been\nthere, while upon the table suddenly appeared the most delicious of\nmeats and drinks. Then came in a damsel, young and beautiful, who bore\nin her hands a vessel of gold, before which all who were there kneeled\nand prayed devoutly.\n\n[Illustration: ON THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL.]\n\n\"What may all this mean?\" asked Lancelot in deep surprise.\n\n\"It has been granted you to see the most precious and wonderful thing in\nthe world,\" answered the noble baron. \"For you have been permitted to\ngaze upon the holy Sangreal. In the time to come all Arthur's knights\nshall take part in a quest for this precious talisman, and great shall\nbe the woe therefrom, for through that quest the Round Table fellowship\nshall be broken up and many of its noble knights destroyed.\"\n\nBut all that passed in that land is too much for us to tell. We shall\nsay only that the fair Elaine came to love Lancelot dearly, but he gave\nher no love in return, for all the affection of his heart was centred\nupon Queen Guenever. Yet King Pellam so desired that Lancelot should wed\nhis fair daughter that in the end he used enchantment, and brought him\nto make her his wife when under a magic spell, the deluded knight\nfancying that it was Guenever whom he had wedded.\n\nThis delusion last not long, and when the deceived spouse came to his\nsenses and learned how he had been dealt with, he broke away like a\nmadman, and, gaining his horse, rode wildly through the land. And every\nknight-errant who dared to joust with him was made to suffer from the\nfury that burned in his blood.\n\nLong afterwards, as chance and adventure brought about, there came to\nKing Pellam's castle Sir Bors de Ganis, Lancelot's nephew. He was gladly\nreceived, and treated with all the good cheer and honor which the castle\ncould afford. And as he sat at his repast with, the castle lords, there\ncame in, as it had come to Lancelot, the dove with the censer, at which\nthe air was filled with the richest perfume, and the table covered with\nthe most delicious viands. Then entered the maiden with the holy grail,\nand all fell to their prayers.\n\n\"Truly,\" said Bors, \"this is a strange place, and a land full of\nmarvels.\"\n\n\"This I will say,\" answered the noble baron who sat in the king's chair,\n\"that of the knights who come here few see the holy vessel, and fewer go\naway with any honor. Gawaine, the good knight, was here but lately; but\nhe saw not what your eyes have beheld, and he left here in shame. None\nbut those of a worshipful life and who love God devoutly can behold this\nmarvel, or sleep in this castle without coming to harm.\"\n\n\"I am in quest of adventures,\" said Bors, \"and shall lie in your castle\nthis night, come what will. Men call me honest and virtuous, and I stand\nready to dare all perils the castle may hold.\"\n\n\"I counsel you not,\" said the baron. \"You will hardly escape without\nharm and shame.\"\n\n\"Let come what will come, I am ready.\"\n\n\"Then I advise you to confess, and go to your chamber with a clean soul,\nfor you will be sorely tried.\"\n\n\"Let it be so. Your counsel is wise.\"\n\nAfter Sir Bors had been confessed and received absolution, he was led\ninto a fair large chamber, around which were many doors, while a bed of\nroyal richness stood in the middle of the floor. Here he was left alone,\nand threw himself on the bed in his armor, deeming it wise to be\nprepared for all that might come.\n\nNot long had he lain there with open eyes and alert wits, when the room\nwas all at once brilliantly lighted up, though whence the light came he\ncould not tell. And suddenly a great and long spear, whose point burnt\nlike a taper, shot across the chamber without hand to guide it, and\nstruck him in the shoulder so fierce a blow that his armor was pierced,\nand he received a wound, a hand's-breadth in depth, which pained him\nbitterly.\n\nQuickly afterwards an armed knight strode in, with shield on shoulder\nand sword in hand, who cried in a harsh voice,--\n\n\"Arise, sir knight, and fight with me.\"\n\n\"I shall not fail you,\" said Bors, hot with the pain of his wound. \"I am\nsorely hurt, but I have vowed boldly to dare aught that might come to\nme. If that burning spear came from your hand you shall pay dearly for\nit.\"\n\nWith these words he sprang from the bed and attacked the intruder, and a\nhard and stern battle began, which lasted long. At the end the intruding\nknight was driven backward to a chamber door, through which he passed,\nleaving Bors master of the floor.\n\nBut hardly had he rested a minute when the defeated knight returned, as\nfresh as at the start, and attacked Bors with renewed strength. Again\nthe battle went on fiercely. But when Bors saw his antagonist once more\nretreating towards the chamber door, he cried out,--\n\n\"Not so, my good fellow. You played that trick on me once; you shall\nnot again. Back and defend yourself. If you defeat me it shall be by\nstrength, not by magic.\" And he stationed himself before the door, and\ndrove back his opponent with such fury, that in a moment more he hurled\nhim to the floor.\n\n\"Yield, or you die!\" he cried, setting his foot on the fallen knight's\nhead.\n\n\"I yield,\" came the answer.\n\n\"What is your name?\"\n\n\"I am Sir Pedivere of the Straight Marches.\"\n\n\"Then, Sir Pedivere of the Straight Marches, take yourself away. And if\nyou have any of your fellows behind yonder door, bid them to keep out of\nthis room, for I came here to sleep, not to fight. At Whitsunday next,\npresent yourself at King Arthur's court, and tell him that you have come\nthither as a prisoner of Sir Bors of the sharp sword.\"\n\nThis, Sir Pedivere swore to do, and left his conqueror to what rest he\ncould get. But this was little, for enchantment surrounded the daring\nknight. The room suddenly became full of frightful noises and alive with\nperil. Whence they came he knew not, whether through doors or windows,\nbut a flight of arrows and of crossbow bolts filled the air, whistling\nshrewdly past his ears, while many of them fell upon him and pierced his\nflesh through the open places in his armor.\n\n\"Who can sleep in such a den of witchcraft as this?\" he cried, in a\nrage, springing from the bed. As he did so one of the doors opened, and\na great lion leaped fiercely in, with a hideous roar.\n\n\"It is better to fight a lion that one can see, than arrows which nobody\nshoots,\" cried Bors, and he rushed without hesitation on the dangerous\nanimal.\n\nSharp was the fight that followed, but of short duration. The lion\nsprang wildly upon him, and tore the shield from his arm, while the\nsharp claws rent his flesh. But the knight retorted with a sweeping\nstroke that cut off the frightful beast's head, and stretched its tawny\nbody lifeless on the floor.\n\nThen Bors walked to the window to see whither the arrows had come, and\nas he looked into the castle court he beheld a wondrous sight. For\nbefore his eyes stood a dragon, huge and horrible of aspect, in whose\nforehead were letters of gold which seemed to him to form King Arthur's\nemblem. And as he gazed there leaped into the court an old and mighty\nleopard, which sprang upon the dragon and engaged in desperate battle\nwith the huge monster.\n\nAt last the dragon spit out of its mouth a hundred of what seemed small\ndragons, and these quickly leaped upon the frightful beast and rent it\nto fragments. Then all the animals disappeared, and an old man came into\nthe court, around whose neck two adders wreathed their folds. In his\nhand was a harp, upon which he played, while he sang an old song telling\nhow Joseph of Arimathea came to that land. When his song was ended he\nsaid to Sir Bors,--\n\n\"Go from this land, sir knight, for you shall have no more adventures\nhere. You have played your part well and nobly, and shall do still\nbetter hereafter, for wondrous things are reserved for you.\"\n\nThen Bors saw a dove of whitest plumage fly across the court with a\ngolden censer in its mouth, from which seemed to stream the most\ndelicious perfumes. And the tempest which had raged in the sky suddenly\nceased, while from the rent clouds the full moon poured down its white\nlight to the earth.\n\nNext there came into the court four children who bore four tapers, and\nan old man in their midst with a censer in one hand a spear in the\nother, and that spear was called the spear of vengeance.\n\n\"Go to your cousin, Sir Lancelot,\" said the old man, \"and tell him what\nyou have seen, and that if he had been as clean of sin as he should be,\nthe adventure which all this signifies would have been his. Tell him,\nmoreover, that though in worldly adventures he passes all others in\nmanhood and prowess, there are many his betters in spiritual worth, and\nthat what you have seen and done this night he was not deemed worthy\nof.\"\n\nThen Bors saw four meanly-dressed gentlewomen pass through his chamber,\nand enter an apartment beyond which was lit up with a light like that of\nmidsummer. Here they knelt before an altar of silver with four pillars,\nwhere also kneeled a man in the dress of a bishop. And as the knight\nlooked upward he beheld a naked sword hovering over his head, whose\nblade shone like silver, yielding a flashing light that blinded him as\nhe gazed. As he stood thus sightless, he heard a voice which said,--\n\n\"Go hence, Sir Bors, for as yet thou art not worthy to be in this\nplace.\"\n\nThen the door of that chamber closed, and he went backward to his bed,\nwhere he lay and slept undisturbed till morning dawned. But when the\nregent of King Pellam learned what had happened to his guest in the\nnight, and how he had escaped the perils of the enchanted chamber, he\ngreeted him joyfully, and said,--\n\n\"You are the first that ever endured so well that chamber's mysteries.\nAnd more has been shown to your eyes than any others have seen. Go home,\nworthy knight. You are chosen for great deeds in the time to come.\"\n\nSir Bors thereupon took his horse and rode away, thinking long and\ndeeply on all that had happened to him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE MARVEL OF THE FLOATING SWORD.\n\n\nMany and strange were the events that followed those we have just\nrelated, and great trouble and woe came therefrom. For when Sir Bors\nreturned to Camelot and told the story of the wedding of Lancelot and\nElaine, much was the secret talk and great the scandal. And when the\nnews came to Guenever's ears she flamed with wrath.\n\nNot long afterwards, Lancelot returned, still half frenzied with the\ndeception that had been practised upon him. When Guenever saw him she\naccused him bitterly of being a traitor to love, and harshly bade him\nleave the court, and never come again within her sight.\n\nThis bitter reviling turned Lancelot's frenzy to a sudden madness. With\ndistracted brain he leaped from a window into a garden, and ran like a\nwild man through wood and brake, heedless that his clothes were torn and\nhis flesh rent with thorns and briers. Thus hotly burns despised love in\nthe human heart and brain, and thus it may turn the strongest senses\naway and bring madness to the clearest mind.\n\nOn learning what had passed, Bors and Hector went to the queen, and\naccused her harshly of the great wrong she had done to the noble\nLancelot. But she was already torn with remorse, and she knelt before\nthese noble knights, begging their forgiveness, and praying them\npitifully to seek Lancelot and bring him back to the court.\n\nMonths passed and Lancelot returned not, nor could he be found, though\nhe was sought through many lands. For he kept afar from cities and\ncourts, and roamed through wilds and wastes, where he had many\nadventures in his madness, and did strange and wild things.\n\nFor two years he wandered hither and thither in frenzy, until at length\nhe came to King Pellam's city of Corbin, and to the castle where dwelt\nthe fair Elaine. Here he was given shelter in a little outhouse, with\nstraw to sleep on, while every day they threw him meat and set him\ndrink, for none would venture near a madman of such savage aspect.\n\nBut one day as he slept, Elaine chanced to behold him, and knew him at\nonce for Lancelot. Telling a trusty baron of her discovery, she had the\ndistracted knight borne still sleeping into a tower chamber in which was\nkept the holy vessel, the Sangreal, concealed from all eyes save those\nof persons of saintly life. Lancelot was laid near this, and when all\nhad left the chamber a man of sanctity entered and uncovered the vessel.\nSuch was its holy influence that it wrought marvellously upon the\ndistracted knight as he lay there asleep and the madness passed away\nfrom his brain. When he woke he was himself again, as whole a man in\nmind and body as any that stood upon the earth. For so healing was the\nvirtue of that precious vessel that it not only drove the cloud of\nmadness from his mind, but gave him back all his old might and\ncomeliness of body.\n\nThen, ashamed of his frenzy, and anxious not to be known, Lancelot\nassumed the name of the Chevalier Mal Fet, or the knight who has\ntrespassed, and took up his abode with Elaine and many knights and\nladies at a castle given him by King Pellam. This stood on an island in\nthe midst of a deep and clear lake, which Lancelot named the Joyous\nIsle. And now, filled again with martial fervor, he made it known far\nand wide that he would joust with any knights that came that way, and\nthat any one who should put him to the worst would receive as a prize a\njewel of worth and a jerfalcon.\n\nBut none won the prize, though very many noble knights jousted with the\nChevalier Mal Fet.\n\nLast of all came Percivale and Hector, who had been long in search of\nLancelot. Learning the challenge, Percivale jousted with Lancelot, and\nafterwards they fought with swords. So long and even was their combat,\nthat a length both paused for breath. And now Percivale, wondering who\nthis sturdy knight could be, told his name, and asked for his in return.\nAt this, Lancelot threw away his weapon, and took his late opponent in\nhis arms, crying out that he was Lancelot du Lake.\n\nGlad was the meeting between these old friends and comrades, and richly\nwere the new-comers entertained in the castle. But in the end they\npersuaded Lancelot to go with them to Camelot, and the disconsolate\nElaine was left to return, with her knights and ladies, to her father's\ncastle.\n\nAfter these events years came and went, until many summers and winters\nhad passed over England's fair isle, and age had begun to lay its hand\non those who had been young, while those who had been children grew up\nand became knights and ladies. Then came at length the time fixed by\ndestiny for the adventure of the Sangreal. And thus this adventure\nbegan.\n\nWhen again approached the vigil of Pentecost, and all the fellowship of\nthe Round Table had come to Camelot, and the tables were set to dine,\nthere rode into the great hall a gentlewoman of noble aspect, whose\nhorse was white with sweat and foam.\n\nShe saluted Lancelot and begged him to go with her, though whither and\nfor what purpose she would not say. Stirred by his love of adventure, he\narmed and rode with her, and before the day's end reached an abbey of\nnuns in a secluded valley. Here, as he stood conversing with the abbess,\nthere came in to him twelve nuns, bringing with them a youth who had not\nyet reached manhood, but was large and powerful of frame, and as\nhandsome of face as any man he had ever seen.\n\n\"Sir,\" said the ladies, with weeping eyes, \"we bring you this child,\nwhom we have long nourished, and pray you to make him a knight; for\nthere is no worthier man from whom he can receive the order of\nknighthood, and we hold him worthy of your sword.\"\n\nLancelot looked long at the young squire, and saw that he was seemly,\nand demure as a dove, and of wonderful beauty of form and features, and\nhis heart went out with great love for the beautiful youth.\n\n\"What is his name?\" asked Lancelot.\n\n\"We call him Galahad.\"\n\n\"Comes this desire from himself?\"\n\n\"It does,\" said they all.\n\n\"From whom has he sprung?\"\n\n\"His mother is dead. His father is a full noble knight, as you shall\nsoon learn.\"\n\n\"Then he shall be knighted by my hand to-morrow at the morning services,\nfor truly he seems worthy of it.\"\n\nThat night, Lancelot's cousins, Bors and Lionel, stopped at the abbey,\nand spent there a cheery evening with their noble kinsman. At early morn\nof the next day he gave the accolade to the youth, pronouncing him\nknight, and bidding Bors and Lionel to stand as his godfathers in the\norder of knighthood.\n\n\"And may God make you a good man and a noble knight,\" he said. \"Beauty\nyou have now, equal to any I have ever seen, and strength and courage I\ndoubt not; if you bear with these a noble heart and an earnest mind you\nhave the best treasures that God can confer or man possess.\"\n\nThen, when they had broken their fast, Lancelot said to the demure and\nmodest young knight,--\n\n\"Fair sir, will you come with me to the court of King Arthur?\"\n\n\"I humbly beg your pardon,\" said Galahad, \"but I cannot come at this\ntime. Trust me to follow soon.\"\n\nThen Lancelot and his cousins left the abbey and rode to Camelot, where\nthey arrived before the hour of the feast. In the great hall were many\nnoble knights, some of them strangers, who walked about the Round Table,\nreading the names in letters of gold in the several seats, and saying,--\n\n\"Here sits Gawaine, here Lancelot, here Percivale,\" and so with the\nothers.\n\nAt length they came to the seat perilous, in which no man but Percivale\nhad hitherto dared to sit, and which he no longer occupied. To their\ndeep surprise they found there newly written in letters of gold these\nwords,--\n\n\"Four hundred and fifty-four winters after the passion of our Lord Jesus\nChrist, the knight shall come for whom this seat is held by destiny.\"\n\n\"What marvellous thing is this?\" cried all who saw it. \"Here is a\nmiracle.\"\n\n\"In the name of God, what means it?\" cried Lancelot. \"Percivale long\nsince had warning to leave that seat. Who shall fill it to-day, for this\nis the feast of Pentecost of the four hundred and fifty-fourth year. The\nyear and day have come, but where and who is the man? I advise that\nthese letters be hidden, till he come for whom this seat is\npre-ordained.\"\n\nThen it was ordered that the writing should be covered with a cloth of\nsilk; and the king bade his guests to hasten to dinner, and forget for\nthe time being what they had seen.\n\n\"Sir,\" said Kay, the steward, \"if you go to table now you will break\nyour old custom, not to sit at dinner on this day till you have seen or\nheard of some adventure.\"\n\n\"Very true,\" said the king. \"I had forgotten my custom through this\nstrange event.\"\n\nAs they stood thus speaking, there came hastily into the court a squire,\nwhose eyes were big with wonder.\n\n\"Sire, I bring you marvellous tidings,\" he cried to the king.\n\n\"What are they?\" demanded Arthur.\n\n\"As I stood but now by the river, I saw floating on its waters a great\nsquare stone, and above this stood the hilt of a sword, whose blade was\nthrust deeply into the stone.\"\n\n\"A stone that floats!\" said the king. \"That is strange, indeed. I must\nsee this marvel.\"\n\nThen he, followed by all the knights, went to the river, and saw there\nthat the squire had spoken truly; for a great stone that seemed of red\nmarble floated like wood on the water, and thrust deeply into it was a\nrich sword, in whose pommel were many jewels of price. As they looked in\nwonder the stone whirled inward on an eddy and came aground at their\nfeet. And now they saw that the precious stones were set in letters of\ngold, which none there could read. But there was a man at the court\nlearned in strange tongues, and he being sent for, read these with ease,\nand thus interpreted them,--\n\n\"Never shall the hand of man draw me from this stone until he comes by\nwhose side I am to hang; and he shall be the best knight in the world.\"\n\n\"Lay your hand on this sword and draw it,\" said the king to Lancelot.\n\"To you it surely belongs; for you are the best knight in the world.\"\n\n\"Best of hand, mayhap, but not of heart and life,\" said Lancelot,\nsoberly. \"Certes, sir, that sword is not for me, nor have I the\nhardiness to set hand thereto. I had a vision in my last night's sleep,\nand this it told me: that he who seeks to draw that sword, and fails\ntherein, shall in time receive from it a wound which shall be very long\nin healing. And this more I learned, that this same day, and with the\ndrawing of that sword, shall begin the marvellous quest of the holy\nvessel, the Sangreal. For fate has destined that this precious amulet\nshall be sought throughout the world; and to him who finds it the\ngreatest of earth's honors shall come.\"\n\nThe king and all the knights heard these words with wonder, for Lancelot\nspoke like one inspired. Then Arthur turned to Gawaine.\n\n\"Fair nephew,\" he said, \"try you this task for my love.\"\n\n\"Saving your good grace,\" said Gawaine, \"that I shall not do.\"\n\n\"Then, sir, seek to draw the sword at my command.\"\n\n\"Your command I must obey,\" said Gawaine, \"yet I dread to meddle with\nmagic.\"\n\nThen he took the sword by the handle, and pulled with all his might, but\nhe could not stir it.\n\n\"I thank you,\" said the king, \"for the trial, even if you have failed.\"\n\n\"My lord Gawaine,\" said Lancelot, \"bear well in mind, this sword shall\ntouch you so sore that you would give the best castle in this kingdom\nnot to have set your hand thereto.\"\n\n\"It may be,\" answered Gawaine. \"Yet I could not disobey the command of\nthe king.\"\n\nThen the king turned to Percivale, and asked him for his love to try the\ntask.\n\n\"Gladly will I,\" he said, \"if only to bear Gawaine fellowship.\"\n\nBut pull as strongly as he would, the sword yielded not to his hand. And\nthere were more there so hardy as to disregard Lancelot's warning and\nseek to draw the sword, but to no hand would it yield.\n\n\"Try no more,\" said Kay to the king. \"You have seen your marvel, and now\nmay, with a good appetite, go to your dinner.\"\n\nThis advice seemed timely to the king, and all went to the court, where\nthe knights took their seats at the Round Table, and were served by\nyoung men lately made knights. When they had been fully served, every\nseat being filled save the seat perilous, another marvellous thing\nhappened. For suddenly all the doors and windows of the hall shut of\nthemselves. Yet the room was not greatly darkened, and men looked into\none another's faces with abashed and frightened visages.\n\n\"Fair fellows and lords,\" said the king, \"this is a day of strange\nevents. And I doubt if we shall not see greater before night comes, for\nit seems a day set aside by the fates.\"\n\nAs he spoke, there came into the hall an ancient man, clothed all in\nwhite, but no knight knew through which door he had entered. By the hand\nhe led a young knight, clad in red armor, but without sword or shield,\nan empty scabbard hanging by his side.\n\n\"Peace be with you, fair lords,\" said the old man. Then he turned to\nKing Arthur, and said,--\n\n\"Sir, I bring with me a young knight who is of kingly lineage, and of\nthe kindred of Joseph of Arimathea. By his hand many strange marvels are\ndestined to be accomplished.\"\n\nThe king heard these words with close attention, and answered\ngraciously,--\n\n\"Sir, you are right welcome here, and the young knight you bring.\"\n\nThen the old man removed the youth's armor, and put upon him a coat of\nred sendal and a mantle that was furred with ermine. And Lancelot saw\nthat the young man was he whom he had knighted that morning at the\nabbey.\n\n[Illustration: JOSEPH OF ARIMATHEA.]\n\nBut the chief wonder of the day was now to appear. For the old man said\nto his young companion,--\n\n\"Sir, follow me.\" He led him around the table till they came to the seat\nperilous, beside which sat Lancelot. Here the old man lifted up the\nsilken cloth, and lo! the letters which had been covered were gone, and\nnew letters of gold were visible, which read,--\n\n\"This is the seat of Galahad, the high prince.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said the old man, \"this seat is yours. Long has it waited your\ncoming.\"\n\nAnd he seated him therein, while all the circle of knights looked on in\nwonder. Now for the first time the young knight spoke.\n\n\"Dear sir,\" he said, \"you may now depart, for you have done well what\nyou were commanded to do. Recommend me to my grandsire, King Pellam, and\nsay to him that I will come and see him as soon as I may.\"\n\nWith this the old man departed. Outside there waited twenty noble\nsquires, who mounted when he came, and rode away with him. The Knights\nof the Round Table marvelled greatly at all this, and the more so on\nseeing that he who occupied that chair of peril was one so tender of\nage, and a youth whom no one knew, nor whence he came; but to one\nanother they privately said,--\n\n\"This is he by whom the Sangreal shall be achieved; for none ever sat\nthere before but Percivale, and he was not long deemed worthy to occupy\nthat seat.\"\n\nThe talk of this strange event quickly passed through the palace, and\ncame to the queen, who heard it with wonder. Those who brought word\nsaid that the youth resembled Sir Lancelot.\n\n\"I must see this strange thing,\" she said, and, followed by her ladies,\nshe entered the hall.\n\n\"It is Sir Lancelot in youth again,\" she cried, on looking the young\nknight in the face. \"Fair sir, tell me truly, what father had you, and\nwhat mother.\"\n\n\"King Pellam is my grandsire,\" answered Galahad, \"and Elaine was my\nmother. As for my father, I know him not.\"\n\n\"Then do I,\" cried the queen, \"for he sits beside you. Sir Lancelot is\nyour father. You are son unto the noblest knight that ever wore sword.\"\n\nAt these words Lancelot rose up in haste, for he had not dreamed of what\nwas to come; and he clasped the youth in his arms and kissed his fair\nyoung face with a love that overflowed his heart.\n\n\"My son!\" he said. \"Can it be? Greatly, indeed, have I felt drawn unto\nyou.\"\n\n\"And my heart went out to you, dear father,\" said Galahad, \"from the\nmoment I looked upon your noble face.\"\n\nThe sight of this affecting meeting filled all hearts there with joy,\nand the king warmly congratulated Lancelot on having found so worthy a\nson; \"for to him, I dare avow,\" he said, \"is destined that great\nachievement of the Sangreal of which you have this day told us.\"\n\nThen Arthur took Galahad by the hand, and said,--\n\n\"Come with me, young sir,\" and led him from the palace to the river to\nshow him the marvel of the stone. After them followed the knights, and\nthe queen and ladies of the court, all full of hope of greater wonders\nyet to come.\n\n\"Sir,\" said the king, \"that sword floated hither this day. Many knights\nof great prowess have tried to draw it and failed.\"\n\n\"That is no marvel,\" said Galahad. \"The sword is not theirs, but mine.\nAnd since I knew it awaited me I have brought no sword; but its\nscabbard, as you may see, hangs by my side.\"\n\nThen he laid his hand upon the sword, and, while all eyes opened wide\nwith wonder, drew it from the stone as easily as if it came from the\nwater only, and thrust it into the scabbard, saying to the king,--\n\n\"It fits there better than in a floating stone.\"\n\n\"God has sent it you,\" said the king. \"And I doubt not he will send you\na shield in as marvellous a manner.\"\n\n\"This is the sword that at one time belonged to Balin le Savage,\" said\nGalahad, \"and with which he killed his brother Balan, in that terrible\njoust which happened many years ago. The scabbard I wear was Balin's\nscabbard, and it was Merlin who put the sword into that stone, saying\nthat no hand should draw it but that of Lancelot, or his son Galahad.\nNor can any man have forgotten the dolorous stroke which Balin dealt my\ngrandfather King Pellam, of which he is not yet healed, nor shall be\ntill I heal him. So has Merlin prophesied.\"\n\nAs they talked thus a lady on a white palfrey was seen riding down the\nriver side to where they stood. Reaching the group, she saluted the\nking and queen, and asked if Sir Lancelot were there.\n\n\"I am here, fair lady,\" he answered.\n\n\"Sad is it,\" she said, while tears flowed from her eyes, \"that all your\ngreat renown is changed since this day's dawn.\"\n\n\"Damsel, why say you this?\"\n\n\"Until to-day you were the best knight in the world,\" she answered. \"But\nhe who should say this now would speak falsely, for there has come a\nbetter than you. And this is proved by the adventure of the sword to\nwhich you dared not set your hand. Remember well what I have said.\"\n\n\"As touches that,\" rejoined Lancelot, \"I never had the pride of being\nthe best knight in the world, nor do I envy my son if any worship has\npassed from me to him.\"\n\n\"Yet you were the greatest; and still are among sinful men,\" she\npersisted. \"And, sir king,\" she said to Arthur, \"this more I am bid to\nsay, from the holy lips of Nancien the hermit, that to you shall fall\nto-day the greatest of honors; for this day the Sangreal shall appear in\nyour palace, and feed you and all your fellowship of the Round Table!\"\n\nWith these words she turned her palfrey and rode away as she had come,\nleaving all who had heard her lost in wonder and admiration.\n\nWhen they had a little got over their wonder at what they had seen, the\nking gave orders that the stone should be taken from the water, saying\nthat he would have it set up as a monument of those strange events.\n\n\"And as it may be long before you all come together here again, I should\nlike to have you joust in the meadow of Camelot, by way of honor to this\nday.\"\n\nThus he spoke; but his real purpose was to see Galahad proved, for he\nfeared that if he once left the court it might be long before he should\nsee him again. Then the knights put on their armor and rode to the\nmeadow in a gallant cavalcade. Galahad also, at the earnest request of\nthe king, put on armor, but he would take no shield, though the king and\nLancelot prayed him to do so. The most he would consent to do was to\ntake a spear.\n\nBut noble work he did that day, meeting all men who cared to break\nspears with him, so that by the end of the joust he had thrown down many\ngood Knights of the Round Table. Only two of them, Lancelot and\nPercivale, were able to keep their seats against the vigorous onset of\nthe strong young knight.\n\nWhen the jousting was at an end, the king and knights went back to\nCamelot, where they attended even-song at the great minster. Thence they\nproceeded to the palace hall, where all took their seats at the table\nfor supper.\n\nBut as they sat eating, there came outside a terrible crash of thunder,\nand a wind arose that seemed as if it would rend the great hall from its\nfoundations. In the midst of this blast the hall was lighted by a sudden\ngleam seven times brighter than the midday light, in whose glare the\nknights sat dumb, none daring to speak. But each looked at the others,\nand it seemed to each that his fellows were fairer of visage than he\nhad ever seen them before.\n\nThen the storm and the glare passed away as suddenly as they had come,\nand there entered the hall the holy grail. None there saw it, for it was\ncovered with white samite, but the hall was filled with the rarest\nodors, and each knight saw on the table before him the meats and drinks\nthat he loved best in the world.\n\nWhen the holy vessel had passed through the hall, it suddenly vanished,\nnone knew how. And not till then dared any man speak.\n\n\"Certes,\" said the king, \"we ought to thank God devoutly for what he has\nshown us this day.\"\n\n\"We have enjoyed the richest of perfumes, and have before us the rarest\nof food,\" said Gawaine; \"and we have but one thing to regret, that the\nsacred vessel was so preciously covered that no eye might behold it. But\nthis miracle has filled my soul with the warmest desire to see this holy\nthing, and I therefore vow that to-morrow, without delay, I shall set\nout in quest of the Sangreal, and shall not return hither till I have\nseen it more openly, if it take me a twelvemonth or more. If I fail in\nthe end, I shall return as one who is not worthy to behold the holy\nvessel.\"\n\nOn hearing these words the other knights arose as one man, and repeated\nthe vow which Gawaine had made.\n\nUpon this, King Arthur sprang to his feet in deep displeasure, for there\ncame to his mind like a vision a host of evil consequences from this\ninconsiderate vow.\n\n\"You are over-hasty, Gawaine,\" he said, sharply, \"and have done me a\nlifelong evil with your vow. For you have bereft me of the fairest\nfellowship that ever came together in this world. When my knights depart\nhence on that difficult search, well I know that they will never all\nmeet again in this world, for many shall die in the quest. Therefore it\ndistresses me deeply, for I have loved them as I loved my life, and I\nwould rather have my soul depart from my body than to lose their noble\nfellowship. Long have we dwelt together in sorrow and in joy, but I fear\nour happy days are at an end, and that trouble and suffering await us in\nthe time to come. What God wills must be, but my heart is sore at the\nthought of it.\"\n\nAnd men who looked upon the king could see tears of distress and grief\nflowing from his eyes.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nHOW GALAHAD GOT HIS SHIELD.\n\n\nWhen morning came the knights made ready for their departure, amid the\ntears and lamentations of ladies, and with the deep sorrow of the king\nand queen. For there were a hundred and fifty of them in all, comprising\nthe whole fellowship of the Table Round, and King Arthur had deep reason\nfor his fear that he would never gather all these gallant knights round\nhis festal board again. And so they mounted and rode through the streets\nof Camelot, where was weeping of rich and poor, and the king turned away\nand could not speak for grief, while Queen Guenever hid herself in her\nchamber, to be alone with her bitter sorrow at the going of Lancelot.\n\nOnward they rode in company until they came to a castle and town that\nwere named Vagon. There they stopped and were well entertained by the\nlord of the castle, who was a man of great hospitality. But when morning\ncame it was decided between them that they should separate, each taking\nhis own course, so that the Sangreal might be sought in all quarters.\nThis they did with much sorrow and many fervent farewells, each knight\ntaking the way that he liked the best, and riding alone and afar on his\nperilous quest.\n\nFirst must we follow the young knight Galahad, who still rode without a\nshield, and who passed onward for four days without an adventure. Near\neventide of the fourth day he came to a white abbey, where he was\nreceived with great respect, and led to a chamber that he might lay off\nhis armor. And here, to his surprise, he met with two of the goodly\ncompany from which he had lately parted, Sir Uwaine and King Bagdemagus.\n\n\"Sirs,\" said Galahad, \"what adventure brought you hither?\"\n\n\"We are told,\" they replied, \"that within this place is a shield of\nperilous significance. For he who bears it about his neck runs deep risk\nof being slain within three days, or maimed forever. Yet,\" said\nBagdemagus, \"I shall bear it to-morrow and try my fortune.\"\n\n\"In the name of God, try it,\" said Galahad. \"Yet truly you take a great\nrisk.\"\n\n\"If I fail therein, you shall take the adventure. I am sure you will not\nfail.\"\n\n\"I agree to that,\" said Galahad. \"I have ridden far enough without a\nshield.\"\n\nThen they went to supper, and afterwards to sleep. When morning came\nBagdemagus asked of the abbot where the magic shield was, and a monk led\nhim behind an altar where hung a shield as white as snow, but with a red\ncross in its centre.\n\n\"I hope you are well advised of what you do,\" said the monk. \"No knight,\nunless he be the worthiest in the world, can safely bear this shield.\"\n\n\"I know well that I am not the best of knights,\" said Bagdemagus; \"and\nyet I shall wear it and dare the danger.\"\n\nThen he took it out of the monastery, and said to Galahad,--\n\n\"If it please you, await me here till you learn how I shall speed.\"\n\n\"I shall await tidings,\" said Galahad.\n\nBagdemagus now rode forward with a squire, that he might send back\ntidings of his good or ill fortune, and passed onward for two miles,\nwhen he found himself in a valley before a hermitage. Here he saw a\nstalwart knight in white armor, horse and all, who, in seeing the\nred-cross shield, rode upon him at the full speed of his charger.\nBagdemagus put his spear in rest and rode to meet him, but his spear\nbroke on the white knight, while he was wounded in the right shoulder\nand borne from his horse, the treacherous shield refusing to cover him.\nThen the victor knight alighted and took the white shield from him,\nsaying,--\n\n\"Sir knight, you have acted with more folly than wisdom, for you should\nhave known that only he who has no peer living can safely bear this\nshield.\"\n\nThen he went to the squire who had come with King Bagdemagus, and\nsaid,--\n\n\"Bear this shield to the good knight Sir Galahad, whom you left in the\nabbey, and greet him from me.\"\n\n\"What shall I tell him is your name?\"\n\n\"Take no heed of my name. That is not for you to know, nor for any\nearthly man. Content yourself with telling Sir Galahad that this shield\nis for him, and for no other man to wear. And may God aid him to bear it\nworthily and worshipfully.\"\n\nBut the squire went first to Bagdemagus and asked him if he were\nseriously wounded.\n\n\"Forsooth, I am,\" he said. \"I shall scarce escape from death.\"\n\nThe squire then conveyed him in great pain to the hermitage, and left\nhim in care of the hermit. And as the chronicle tells, he lay there\nlong, and barely escaped with life.\n\n[Illustration: Copyright 1895 by E. A. Abbey; from a Copely print\ncopyright 1896 by Curtis and Cameron.\n\nOATH OF KNIGHTHOOD.]\n\n\"Sir Galahad,\" said the squire, when he had returned to the abbey, \"King\nBagdemagus has paid dearly for his venture. He lies at a hermitage\nsorely wounded. As for you, the knight that overthrew him sends you\ngreeting, and bids you to bear this shield, through which marvellous\nadventures shall come to you.\"\n\n\"Then blessed be God and fortune,\" said Galahad.\n\nHe now resumed his arms and mounted his horse, hanging the white shield\nabout his neck and commending himself to God. Uwaine offered to bear him\ncompany, but this was not to be.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" said Galahad, \"I thank you for your offer, but I must go\nalone, save that this squire shall bear me fellowship.\"\n\nWith these words the youthful knight rode away, and soon came to where\nthe white knight abode by the hermitage. They saluted each other\ncourteously, and fell into a conversation in which the white knight told\nGalahad the story of the magical shield.\n\n\"In the far past time,\" he said, \"soon after Joseph of Arimathea took\ndown the body of our Lord from the holy cross, and bore it from\nJerusalem to a city named Sarras, there was a king of Sarras named\nEvelake, who was then at war with the Saracens. This king, through the\nteachings of Joseph, was converted from the old law to the new, and for\nhim this shield was made, in the name of Him who died on the cross.\nAfterwards, when Evelake was in battle, the shield was covered with a\ncloth, which was only removed in times of deadly peril, and then his\nenemies saw the figure of a man on the cross, before which they fell\nback discomfited. At times the cross of the shield would vanish away,\nand at times stand out clear and bright; and such was its virtue that a\nsoldier whose hand was stricken off was made whole again by touching\nthe cross. The time came at length when Joseph left Palestine and\njourneyed westward, and King Evelake with him, till they came to Great\nBritain, where all the people had been pagans, but were then converted\nto the Christian faith. Soon afterwards Joseph sickened and came near to\ndeath, and while he lay in his bed he bade Evelake bring him the shield,\nand on it he traced a red cross with his own blood. Then he said to\nEvelake, 'No man hereafter shall bear this shield but he shall repent\nit, until Galahad, the last of my lineage, shall come to seek it, and\nwith it he shall do marvellous deeds.' 'Where shall the shield await his\ncoming?' asked Evelake. 'You shall leave it in the abbey where Nancien\nthe hermit shall lie after his death, and thither the knight Galahad\nshall come for it soon after he receives the order of knighthood.' This\nis the story of the shield, and this day has the prediction been\nfulfilled. Wear the shield worthily and well, young knight, for much\nglory and renown shall come to you through it. You are in God's hands;\nto God commend yourself.\"\n\nWith these words the white knight vanished away, and in the place where\nhe had stood was seen but empty air.\n\nThen the squire, who had heard these words, alighted and kneeled at\nGalahad's feet, praying that he would make him a knight.\n\n\"That I shall consider,\" said Galahad. \"But now let us return to the\nabbey.\"\n\nHere Galahad drove away a fiend that had long dwelt in a tomb near by,\nwhere it made such noise that none could venture near it. But the\nvirtue of the shield protected him from all harm from this evil shape,\nwhich was forced to depart.\n\nWhen morning came, he asked the young squire his name.\n\n\"Sir,\" he answered, \"men call me Melias de Lile, and I am the son of the\nking of Denmark.\"\n\n\"Then, fair sir, since you come of kings and queens, I shall make you a\nknight; and look you that knighthood sit well on you, for you should be\na mirror of chivalry.\"\n\n\"That shall I seek to be,\" said Melias.\n\nThen Galahad gave him the accolade as he kneeled before him, and bade\nhim rise a knight.\n\n\"Now, dear sir,\" said Melias, \"since you have done me this high honor,\nit is but right that you grant me my first request, so that it be in\nreason.\"\n\n\"You speak justly,\" said Galahad.\n\n\"I beg, then, that you let me ride with you in the quest of the Sangreal\ntill some adventure shall part us.\"\n\n\"That I grant willingly.\"\n\nArmor was now brought to Melias, and when it had been girded upon him he\nand Galahad rode away, and passed onward all that week without an\nadventure. But on the Monday next, as they set out from an abbey, they\ncame to where a cross marked a parting of the road. On the cross was\nwritten,--\n\n\"Ye knights-errant, that ride in quest of adventures, here lie two ways.\nHe that takes the right-hand road shall not leave it again, if he be a\ngood man and a worthy knight. He that takes the left-hand shall not\nlightly win fortune, for his strength and endurance will be soon tried.\"\n\n\"If you will suffer me to take the left-hand road I should like it\ngreatly,\" said Melias. \"My strength and skill need trial.\"\n\n\"It were better not. I fancy that I only should face the danger that\nthere confronts us.\"\n\n\"Nay, my lord, I pray you let me have this adventure.\"\n\n\"Take it, then, in God's name,\" said Galahad; \"and do your duty\nworthily.\"\n\nSo Melias rode forward and soon found himself in a forest, through which\nhe passed for two days, seeing there neither man, woman, nor child. Then\nhe came from the forest into a broad meadow, where stood a lodge built\nof green boughs. And in that lodge was a chair, on which lay a crown of\ngold wrought with rich and subtle skill. Also there were cloths spread\nupon the earth, upon which delicious meats were laid.\n\nMelias beheld all this and thought it marvellous. He felt no hunger, but\nthe crown of gold roused his covetousness, and he took it up and rode\naway with it. But not far had he ridden when a knight came after him,\nwho said,--\n\n\"Sir knight, why have you taken that crown? It is not yours; therefore\ndefend yourself.\"\n\nThen Melias blessed himself, and said,--\n\n\"Fair Lord of Heaven, help and save thy new made knight.\"\n\nThen they rode together at full speed, but Melias's prayer availed him\nnaught, for the spear-head of the other went through his hauberk, and\nwounded him so deeply in the left side that he fell to the earth like a\ndead man. Then the victor knight took the crown and rode away.\n\nBut with wise forethought Galahad had followed Melias, and now rode into\nthe valley, where he found him in peril of death.\n\n\"Ah, Melias!\" he cried, \"better for you had you taken the other way. Who\nhas done you this harm?\"\n\n\"For God's love, let me not die in this place!\" said Melias in reply.\n\"Bear me to some abbey near by, where I may be confessed and have the\nrites of the church.\"\n\n\"It shall be done,\" said Galahad. \"But where is he who has wounded you?\"\n\nThe reply came from the edge of the forest, where Galahad heard a voice\ncry in stirring tones,--\n\n\"Knight, defend yourself from me.\"\n\n\"Beware, sir,\" warned Melias. \"He it is that has left me thus.\"\n\n\"Sir knight,\" said Galahad, \"come on at your peril.\"\n\nThen they rode together as fast as their horses could run, and Galahad\ndrove his spear through the shoulder of his opponent, hurling him from\nhis horse. But in his fall the spear broke. Then, before the young\nknight could turn, another knight rode from under the leaves and broke\nhis spear upon him.\n\nAt this treacherous act Galahad drew his sword in wrath, and with a keen\nblow smote off the left arm of his antagonist, whom he pursued into the\nforest.\n\nHe soon returned, however, and took up Melias gently, for the truncheon\nof the spear was in his body, and bore him on his horse in his arms to\nan abbey near at hand. Here the wounded knight was unarmed and laid upon\na bed, where the rites of the church were administered to him.\n\n\"Sir Galahad,\" he then said, \"let death come when it will, I am at peace\nwith God.\" And he drew the truncheon of the spear from his body, and\nswooned away.\n\nBut an old monk who stood there, and who was a skilful leech, examined\nthe wound, and said, \"He need not die. By the grace of God I hope to\nheal him of this wound within seven weeks.\"\n\nThis gladdened Galahad, and he remained at the abbey three days to see\nhow Melias should fare. Then he asked him how it stood with him.\n\n\"I feel now as if I may live,\" he answered.\n\n\"God be thanked for that,\" said Galahad. \"Now must I depart, for I have\nmuch to do, and the quest of the Sangreal will not permit long leisure\nand delay.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said the monk, \"it is for his sin this knight is so bitterly\nwounded. He took on him the high order of knighthood without clean\nconfession, which was a sinful thing to do. As for the two ways to which\nyou came, the way on the right betokens the highway of righteousness,\nand the way on the left, which he chose, betokens that of sinners and\ninfidels. And when the devil saw his presumption in taking the quest of\nthe Sangreal without being worthy of it, he caused his overthrow. And\nwhen he took the crown of gold he sinned in covetousness and theft. As\nfor you, Sir Galahad, the two knights with whom you fought signify the\ntwo deadly sins which abide in Sir Melias. But they could not withstand\nyou, for you are without deadly sin.\"\n\n\"God send I may keep so,\" said Galahad. \"Now must I depart. I pray you\ndo your utmost for this knight.\"\n\n\"My Lord Galahad,\" said Melias, \"I shall get well, and shall seek you as\nsoon as I can ride.\"\n\n\"God grant you speedy health,\" said Galahad, and he left the room and\nsought his horse, and rode away alone.\n\nAfter he had ridden for days in various directions, it chanced that he\ndeparted from a place called Abblasoure, where he had heard no mass, as\nwas his daily custom. But ere the day was old, he came to a mountain, on\nwhich he found a ruined chapel, and here he kneeled before the altar,\nand besought God's counsel. And as he prayed he heard a voice that said,\n\"Go now, thou adventurous knight, to the Castle of Maidens, and do away\nwith the wicked customs which there are kept.\"\n\nWhen Galahad heard this he took his horse and rode away, full of\ngladness that he might thus serve God. And not long nor far had he\nridden before he saw in a valley before him a strong castle, with high\ntowers and battlements and deep ditches; and beside it ran a broad\nriver, named the Severn.\n\nHere he met an aged man, whom he saluted, and asked the castle's name.\n\n\"It is the Castle of Maidens,\" said the old man.\n\n\"Then it is a cursed castle, and an abode of sin,\" said Galahad. \"All\npity is wanting within those walls, and evil and hardness of heart there\nhave their abode.\"\n\n\"Then, sir knight, you would do well to turn and leave it.\"\n\n\"That shall I not,\" said Galahad. \"I have come here to punish the\nevil-doers that there abide.\"\n\nLeaving the old man, he rode forward, and soon met with seven fair\nmaidens, who said to him,--\n\n\"Sir knight, you ride in folly, for you have the water to pass.\"\n\n\"And why should I not pass the water?\" asked Galahad.\n\nHe continued his ride, and next met a squire, who said,--\n\n\"Sir knight, I bring you defiance from the knights in the castle, who\nforbid you to go farther till they learn your purpose.\"\n\n\"You may tell it to them, if you will. I come to destroy the wicked\ncustoms of this castle.\"\n\n\"Sir, if you abide by that, you will have enough to do.\"\n\n\"Go now and bear them my answer.\"\n\nThen the squire returned to the castle, from which there soon after rode\nseven knights, in full armor. When they saw Galahad they cried,--\n\n\"Knight, be on your guard, for you have come to your death.\"\n\n\"What!\" asked Galahad, \"will you all assail me at once?\"\n\n\"That shall we; so defend yourself.\"\n\nThen Galahad rode against them and smote the foremost such a blow that\nhe nearly broke his neck. The others rode on him together, each\nstriking his shield with might. But their spears broke and he still held\nhis seat.\n\nHe now drew his sword, and set upon them with such energy that, many as\nthey were, he put them all to flight, chasing them until they entered\nthe castle, and following them within its walls till they fled from the\ncastle by another gate.\n\nGalahad was now met by an old man, clad in religious costume, who said\nto him,--\n\n\"Sir, here are the keys of the castle.\"\n\nThen the victor ordered that all the gates should be thrown open, and in\nthe streets of the neighboring town were crowds of people, crying\ngladly,--\n\n\"Sir knight, you are heartily welcome. Long have we waited for the\ndeliverance which you bring us.\"\n\nAnd a gentlewoman came, who said to him,--\n\n\"These knights are fled, but they will come again. Therefore, sir, I\ncounsel you to send for all the knights that hold their lands of this\ncastle, and make them swear to restore the old customs, and do away with\nthe evil practices which these villanous knights have fostered.\"\n\n\"That is good counsel,\" said Galahad.\n\nThen she brought him a horn of ivory, richly adorned with gold, and\nsaid,--\n\n\"Blow this horn loudly. It will be heard two miles and more from the\ncastle, and all that hear it will come.\"\n\n[Illustration: Copyright 1901 by E. A. Abbey; from a Copely print\ncopyright 1902 by Curtis and Cameron.\n\nSIR GALAHAD FIGHTING THE SEVEN SINS.]\n\nGalahad took the horn, and blew so loud a blast that the very trees\nshook therewith. Then he seated himself and waited to see what would\ncome from the summons. As he sat there a priest came to him and said,--\n\n\"Sir knight, for seven years these brethren have held the castle, whose\nlord, Duke Lianor, they killed, and held his daughter prisoner; and by\nforce they have kept all the knights of the castle under their power,\nand have acted as tyrants, robbing the common people of all they had,\nand taking tribute and demanding service from all the country round.\nSeven years ago the duke's daughter said to them, 'You shall not hold\nthis castle for many years, for by one knight you shall be overcome.'\n'Say you so,' they replied. 'Then shall never knight or lady pass this\ncastle, but all that come shall stay or lose their heads, till comes\nthat knight of whom you prophesy.' Therefore this is called the Maidens'\nCastle, since its tyrants have so long made war upon maidens.\"\n\n\"Is the duke's daughter still here?\"\n\n\"No; she died three days after the castle was taken. But her younger\nsister and many other ladies are held prisoners.\"\n\nSoon afterwards the knights of the country began to flock in, in\nresponse to the bugle-call, and glad were they to find what had\noccurred. Galahad made them do homage and fealty to the duke's daughter,\nwhich they did with great willingness of heart.\n\nAnd when the next day dawned great news was brought in, for a messenger\ncame to Galahad and told him that the seven felon brothers had been met\nby Gawaine, Gareth, and Uwaine, and all slain.\n\n\"So ends their rule and power,\" said Galahad, fervently. \"It is well\ndone, and well are all here delivered.\"\n\nThen he commended them to God, and took his armor and horse, and rode\naway amid the prayers of those he had delivered.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE TEMPTATION OF SIR PERCIVALE.\n\n\nMany adventures had the other knights that set out in search of the\nSangreal, and much reproof did many of them receive for the evil lives\nthey had led; but all this we cannot stop to tell, but must confine\nourselves to the deeds of a few only. As for Sir Gawaine, he parted from\nGareth and Uwaine after they had slain the seven wicked knights of the\nCastle of Maidens, and rode from Whitsuntide to Michaelmas without an\nadventure. Then came a day in which he met Sir Hector de Maris, and glad\nwere both at the meeting.\n\n\"Truly,\" said Gawaine, \"I am growing weary of this quest.\"\n\n\"And I as well,\" said Hector. \"And of the twenty knights I have met from\ntime to time, they all complain as we do.\"\n\n\"Have you met with Lancelot?\"\n\n\"No, nor with Percivale, Bors, or Galahad. I can learn nothing of these\nfour.\"\n\n\"They are well able to take care of themselves,\" said Gawaine. \"And if\nthey fail to find the Sangreal, it is waste of time for the rest of us\nto seek it, for outside of them there is little virtue in the Round\nTable fellowship.\"\n\nAfterwards these two knights went far in company, and had strange dreams\nand visions, the meaning of which was expounded to them by the hermit\nNancien. This holy man also reproved Gawaine severely for his evil life,\nand bade both him and his companion to give up the search for the\nSangreal, as that high achievement was not for hands like theirs.\n\nSoon after they met an armed knight in the road, who proffered to joust\nwith them. Gawaine accepted the challenge, and rode against this unknown\nopponent, dealing him so severe a blow that he was hurled from his horse\nwith a mortal wound. But when they had removed his helmet, what was\ntheir horror to find that it was their friend and comrade, Uwaine.\n\n\"Alas!\" cried Gawaine, \"that such a fatal misadventure should have\nbefallen me! I would sooner have died myself.\"\n\n\"Thus ends my quest of the Sangreal,\" said Uwaine. \"And thus will end\nthat of many a noble knight. Dear friends, commend me to King Arthur,\nand to my fellows of the Round Table, and sometimes think of me for old\nbrotherhood's sake.\"\n\nAnd he died in their arms, leaving them plunged in the deepest grief,\nfrom which they were long in recovering.\n\nMeanwhile Lancelot and Percivale rode far in company, and many things\nhappened to them. While journeying through a strange region they met an\nunknown knight, whom they challenged to joust. But the event turned out\nlittle to their satisfaction, for Lancelot was hurled to the ground,\nhorse and man, and Percivale received so fierce a sword-blow that he\nwould have been slain had not the sword swerved.\n\nThen the victor knight rode rapidly away, leaving them to recover as\nthey best could. But a recluse near whose hut this encounter had taken\nplace told them that the victor was Sir Galahad. On learning this they\npursued him at all speed, but in vain.\n\nPercivale now turned back to question the recluse further, but Lancelot\nkept on, passing through waste and forest till he came to a stone cross\nat the parting of two ways.\n\nNear by was a ruined chapel, with broken door, and other signs of waste\nand decay, if it had been long deserted. But when he looked within he\nsaw to his great surprise a high altar richly dressed with cloth of\nwhite silk, on which stood a lofty candelabra of silver which bore six\ngreat candles, all lighted.\n\nLancelot sought to enter the chapel, but try as he would he could not\npass the broken door, nor find entrance elsewhere. Some invisible power\nseemed to stand between him and admission to that sacred place.\n\nThen, out of heart at this ill success, he took off his helm and sword,\nrelieved his horse of saddle and bridle, and lay down to sleep before\nthe cross. Night came upon him as he lay there, and with the night came\nstrange visions.\n\nFor as he lay but half asleep he saw a sick knight brought thither in a\nlitter. This knight prayed earnestly for aid in his affliction, and as\nhe did so Lancelot saw the silver candlestick come from the chapel to\nthe cross, and after it a table of silver on which was the holy grail.\nThe sick knight crawled painfully to it on his hands and knees, and\nraised himself so as to touch and kiss the sacred vessel. No sooner had\nhe done so than he grew whole and sound, with all his pain and sickness\ngone, and rose to his feet with his former strength and vigor.\n\n\"Lord, I thank thee deeply,\" he said; \"for through thy infinite grace I\nam healed of my affliction.\"\n\nThen the holy vessel returned to the chapel, and Lancelot strove hard to\nrise and follow it. But his limbs were powerless, and he lay like one\nchained to the ground.\n\nHe now fell into deep slumber, and waked not till near morning. And as\nhe raised himself and sat on the ground he heard a voice in the air,\nthat seemed to come from no earthly lips.\n\n\"Sir Lancelot,\" it said, \"more hard than is the stone, more bitter than\nthe wood, more bare than the barren fig-tree, arise and go from hence,\nand withdraw thyself from this holy place.\"\n\nLancelot arose with a heavy heart, for the sense of these words sank\ndeeply within him. But when he sought his horse and helm and sword he\nfound they were gone, for they had been taken by the knight whose\nhealing he had seen.\n\nDeeply depressed and unhappy at this misfortune, he left the cross on\nfoot, and wandered onward till he came to a hermitage on a high hill.\n\nHere he told the hermit what had happened to him, and confessed all the\nevil deeds of his life, saying that he had resolved to be a different\nman from what he had been, and to live a higher life than that of doing\ndeeds of arms that men might applaud.\n\nThen the holy man gave him absolution, with injunctions of penance, and\nprayed that he would abide with him all that day. This Lancelot did,\ntalking much with him upon his sins, and repenting sincerely the worldly\nlife he had led.\n\nMeanwhile Percivale had returned to the recluse, and questioned her as\nto how he should find Galahad.\n\n\"That I cannot surely tell,\" she said. \"Ride hence to a castle which is\ncalled Goothe, where he has a cousin-german. If he can give you no\ntidings, then ride straight to the castle Carbonek, where the maimed\nking lies, and there you shall hear sure tidings of him.\"\n\nPercivale, leaving her, rode onward till eventide, and as he looked\naround him for shelter he heard a clock strike loud and clear. He now\nperceived before him a mansion, with lofty walls and deep ditches. Here\nhe knocked loudly, and was let in without delay.\n\nAfter laying off his armor, he was led to the supper hall, where he was\nwell served, and afterwards spent the night in comfort. When morning\ndawned he entered the chapel for the mass, and found there a priest\nready at the altar. On the right side was a pew closed with iron, and\nbehind the altar a rich bed, covered with cloth of silk and gold. On\nthis bed lay a person with covered visage, so that he could not tell if\nit were man or woman.\n\nAfter the service was over the occupant of the bed sat up and threw back\nthe covering, and then Percivale saw that it was a man of very great\nage, on whose head was a crown of gold. But his shoulders and body to\nthe middle were unclad, and were covered with wounds, as were also his\narms and face.\n\nTo all seeming he might have been three hundred years of age, for so\nvenerable a face Percivale had never gazed upon, and as he sat up he\nprayed fervently, with joined hands. When the mass was over the priest\nbore the sacrament to the sick king. And when he had used it, he took\noff his crown and commanded it to be set on the altar. Then he lay down\nagain.\n\nPercivale now asked one of the attendants who this venerable man was.\n\n\"You have heard of Joseph of Arimathea,\" was the reply, \"and how he came\ninto this land to convert the heathen. With him came a king named\nEvelake, whom he had converted in the city of Sarras, in Palestine. This\nking afterwards had an earnest desire to be where the Sangreal was, and\non one occasion he ventured so nigh it that God was displeased with him,\nand struck him almost blind. Then King Evelake prayed for mercy and\npardon, and begged that he might not die until he who was to achieve the\nSangreal should come, that he might see him and kiss him. There\nanswered him a voice that said: 'Thy prayers are heard; thou shalt not\ndie till he has kissed thee. And when he comes thy eyes shall be opened\nto see clearly, and thy wounds shall be healed; but not until then.' So\nKing Evelake has lived in this mansion for three hundred winters,\nwaiting for the coming of the knight who shall heal him. Now, sir, will\nyou tell me what knight you are, and if you are of the Round Table\nfellowship?\"\n\n\"That am I, and my name is Percivale de Galis.\"\n\nOn hearing this the good man welcomed Percivale warmly, and pressed him\nto remain. But the knight replied that he could not, for his duty led\nhim onward.\n\nPercivale now left the chapel, and, arming himself, he took his horse\nand rode onward. And that day more strange things happened to him than\nwe have space to tell. Not far had he ridden when he met twenty\nmen-at-arms, who bore on a bier a dead knight. On learning that he was\nfrom King Arthur's court, they assailed him fiercely, killed his horse,\nand would have slain him; but when he was at the worst strait a knight\nin red armor came hastily to his rescue, and rode fiercely on the\nassailants.\n\nHe attacked these, indeed, with such fury that many of them were soon\nstretched on the ground; while the others fled into a thick forest,\nwhither they were hotly pursued by their assailant.\n\nOn seeing him thus ride away, Percivale was deeply grieved, for he well\nknew his rescuer was Galahad, and he had no horse to follow him.\n\nHe went forward as fast as he could on foot, and had not gone far when\nhe met a yeoman riding on a hackney, and leading a great war-horse,\nblacker than any bear.\n\nPercivale begged that he would lend him this horse, that he might\novertake a knight before him. But this the yeoman refused, saying that\nthe owner of the horse would slay him if he should do so.\n\nNot long afterwards, as Percivale sat woebegone beneath a tree, an armed\nknight came riding past on the black horse, pursued by the yeoman, who\ncalled him robber, and moaned bitterly that his master would kill him\nfor the loss of his charge.\n\n\"Lend me your hackney,\" said Percivale; \"I may get you your horse\nagain.\"\n\nThis the yeoman gladly did, and Percivale pursued the robber knight,\nloudly bidding him to stand and deliver.\n\nThe knight at this turned and rode fiercely upon him, but directed his\nspear against the horse instead of the rider, striking it in the breast,\nso that it fell to the earth.\n\nHe now rode away, without heeding Percivale's angry demand that he\nshould stop and fight it out on foot. When the dismounted knight found\nthat his antagonist would not turn, he was so filled with chagrin that\nhe threw away his helm and sword, and raved like one out of his wits.\nThus he continued till night came on, when he lay down exhausted and\nfell into a deep slumber.\n\nNear the midnight hour he suddenly awakened, and saw in the road before\nhim a woman, who said,--\n\n\"Sir Percivale, what do you here?\"\n\n\"I do neither good nor ill,\" he replied.\n\n\"You need a horse,\" she said. \"If you will promise to do my will when I\nshall summon you, I will lend you mine. You will find him no common\none.\"\n\n\"I promise that,\" cried Percivale. \"I would do much for a horse just\nnow.\"\n\n\"Wait, then; I shall fetch you the noblest animal you ever bestrode.\"\n\nShe departed, but quickly came again, leading a horse of midnight\nblackness, and richly apparelled for knightly service.\n\nPercivale looked at it with admiration. He had not hoped for so great\nand noble a steed as this. Thanking her warmly, he sprang to his feet,\nleaped to the saddle, and put spurs to the horse, from whose nostrils\nfire seemed to glare.\n\nAway went the black horse under the moonlight, making such marvellous\nstrides that it seemed to leave the earth behind it in its magical\nprogress. With such wondrous speed did it go that in an hour it had made\na four days' journey. Then it came to the brink of a great body of\nwater, whose waves foamed and leaped boisterously against the shore.\n\nWhen Percivale saw the heaving waves, which stretched far away under the\nmoonlight, he drew with all his force upon the rein; but the fiendish\nbrute which he rode heeded not his hand, but bore him madly to the\nbrink. Fear and doubt now filled the knight's mind, and with a hasty\nimpulse he made the sign of the cross. At this the beast roared loudly\nin rage, while flame a foot long poured from its nostrils, and with a\nwild rear it shook off its rider, and plunged madly into the wild\nbillows. And the showering drops which fell upon Percivale from the\nplunge burnt like sparks of fire.\n\n\"God be thanked that I am here alive,\" cried the knight, fervently. \"I\nhave ridden the foul fiend in the image of a horse, and barely have I\nescaped perdition.\"\n\nThen he commended himself to God, and prayed earnestly to the Lord to\nsave him from all such perils and temptations. He continued in prayer\nall the remainder of that night until the next day dawned upon the\nearth.\n\nWhen sunrise came he looked needfully about him, anxious to learn\nwhither he had been borne by the unholy brute. To his surprise and alarm\nhe found himself in a wild waste, which was closed in on one side by the\nsea, and on the other by a range of rough and high mountains, impassable\nto human feet; a land that seemed without food or shelter, and the\nlurking-place of wild beasts.\n\nHe trembled with fear on seeing this, and went forward with doubtful\nsteps. Not far had he gone before he saw a strange thing, for a great\nserpent passed near him, bearing a young lion by the neck. Fiercely\nafter it came a great lion, roaring with rage, and fell upon the\nserpent, which turned in defence, so that a mighty battle was waged\nbefore the knight.\n\n\"By my faith,\" he cried, \"the lion is the most natural beast of the two,\nand it fights for its young. The lion it is my duty to help.\"\n\nHe drew his sword with these words and struck the serpent so fierce a\nstroke that it fell dead. Then he turned his shield against the lion,\nbut as the latter made no show of fighting him, but fawned upon him with\nevery mark of joy and gratitude, he cast down his shield and removed his\nhelm, and sat there stroking the neck and shoulders of the beast.\n\nUntil noon he comforted himself with the fellowship of the lion. Then it\ntook up its whelp and bore it away, leaving Percivale alone. But he was\nnot unhappy, for he believed fervently in God, and prayed with all\nearnestness that he might be saved from unholy things, and chosen as a\nchampion of right and truth.\n\nWhen night came, Percivale, to his joy, saw the lion coming towards him.\nIt crouched at his feet like a spaniel, and all that night the lion and\nthe knight slept in company, his head being pillowed on the shoulder of\nthe beast.\n\nBut during the night a strange dream came to him. He seemed to see two\nwomen, one of whom was young, and rode upon a lion, and the other was\nold, and sat upon a gliding serpent. And the younger spoke to him as\nfollows,--\n\n\"Sir Percivale,\" she said, \"my lord salutes you, and sends a warning to\nyou to make ready, for to-morrow you will have to fight with the\nstrongest champion in the world. And if overcome you will be shamed to\nthe world's end.\"\n\n\"Who is your lord?\" he asked.\n\n\"The greatest lord in all the world,\" she said; and then suddenly\nvanished.\n\nThen came the lady upon the serpent, and said,--\n\n\"Sir Percivale, I have done you no harm, and yet you have worked me\ninjury.\"\n\n\"What have I done? I have been always heedful to offend no lady.\"\n\n\"I have long nourished here a great serpent, and yesterday you killed it\nfor seeking its prey. Why did you this? The lion was not in your care.\"\n\n\"I aided the lion because it was a nobler beast than the serpent. In\nthat I did nothing against you.\"\n\n\"You did me a great wrong, and in return for this injury I demand that\nyou become my man.\"\n\n\"That shall I never be,\" he answered.\n\n\"Beware, then, proud knight, who pride yourself on your piety. You have\nrobbed me of that which I loved; take heed that I catch you not\nunawares, or mine you shall be, body and soul.\"\n\nWith these words she departed, and Percivale finished his sleep without\nfurther vision. In the morning, when he awoke, he felt feeble. And as he\nrose and blessed himself he saw not far off in the sea a ship that\nsailed towards him. As it came near he perceived it to be covered within\nand without with white samite, while on the deck stood an old man\ndressed in a surplice like a priest.\n\n\"Sir,\" said Percivale, \"you are welcome.\"\n\n\"God keep you,\" said the old man; \"whence come you?\"\n\n\"I am of King Arthur's court, and a Knight of the Round Table, and am in\nquest of the Sangreal. But here I find myself in a wilderness, with no\nhope of escape.\"\n\n\"Doubt not, if you be a true knight.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" asked Percivale.\n\n\"I have come hither from a strange country to comfort you,\" said the old\nman.\n\n\"Then, sir, can you tell me what my dream signifies?\" and Percivale\nrelated what had befallen him.\n\n\"That can I,\" said the old man. \"She that rode on the lion betokens the\nnew law of holy church, and she came through love, to warn you of the\ngreat battle that is before you.\"\n\n\"With whom shall I fight?\" asked Percivale.\n\n\"With the strongest champion of the world, and if you fail in the fight\nyou shall not escape with the loss of a limb, but shall be shamed to the\nworld's end. As for her that rode on the serpent, she betokens the old\nlaw. Heed her not. The serpent you slew betokens the devil that you rode\nhither, and whom you overcame by the sign of the cross. Yield not to her\nor any of her kindred, or worse will befall you.\"\n\nThen the ship turned and sailed away, leaving Percivale again alone. But\nwhen he went up the rocks he found there the lion, which he stroked and\nmade joyful fellowship with.\n\nAnd thus time went on till midday. Then Percivale saw a ship approaching\nwith such speed as if all the winds in the world had driven it. On it\nkept till it reached land at the beach below him. He hurried hopefully\nto meet it, and saw that it was covered with black silk, while on the\ndeck stood a lady of great beauty, who was dressed in the richest\napparel.\n\n\"What brought you into this wilderness?\" she cried to the knight. \"Here\nyou are likely to die of hunger, for no man may cross yonder rocks and\nescape.\"\n\n\"I serve the best master in the world,\" said Percivale. \"He will not\nsuffer harm to come to me.\"\n\n\"Sir Percivale,\" said she, \"know you who I am?\"\n\n\"Who taught you my name?\" he answered.\n\n\"I know you better than you deem,\" she replied, laughing. \"This much I\nmay tell you, that not long since I was in the waste forest, where I saw\nthe red knight with the white shield.\"\n\n\"Ah! is that so? Fain would I meet with him.\"\n\n\"I shall bring you to him; but only on covenant that you will come to my\naid when I summon you.\"\n\n\"If it be in reason and uprightness, you may trust me,\" he replied.\n\n\"I saw him,\" she continued, \"chase two knights into the stream that is\ncalled Mortaise, and follow them into the water. But they passed over,\nand his horse was drowned, and only by his great strength he got safe to\nland again.\"\n\n\"That I am very glad to hear. It would have been a sad day had that good\nknight been drowned.\"\n\n\"You look pale and thin,\" she remarked. \"Have you eaten lately?\"\n\n\"Not these three days,\" he answered. \"Yet I spoke of late with a good\nman, whose words refreshed me as if I had partaken of rich viands.\"\n\n\"Ah, sir knight,\" she said, \"beware of that old man. I know him better\nthan you. He is a false enchanter, who seeks your harm. If you heed his\nwords shame will be your lot, and you will die on this rock and be\ndevoured by wild beasts. I am here to help you in your need, for I am\nnot content to see so good a knight come to harm and disgrace.\"\n\n\"Who are you,\" asked Percivale, \"that proffer me so great a kindness?\"\n\n\"Once I was the richest woman in the world,\" she answered. \"Now I am\ndisinherited and in want.\"\n\n\"Then I pity you greatly. Who is it that has disinherited you?\"\n\n\"I dwelt with the greatest man in the world,\" she answered, \"and to him\nI owe my beauty,--a beauty of which I was, alas! too proud. Then I said\nthat which offended him deeply, and he drove me away from him, and\nrobbed me of my heritage, and has never since had pity for me nor for my\nfriends. Since this has happened I have done my best to wean his men\nfrom him, and many of them now cling to me, and I and they war against\nhim day and night. I know no good knight, nor good man, but that I\nstrive to win him to my side, and all such I repay well for their\nservices. For he against whom I wage war is strong, and I need all the\naid to be had. Therefore, since I know you for a valiant knight, I\nbeseech you to help me. A fellow of the Round Table cannot, under his\nvow, fail any woman that is disinherited, and that seeks his aid.\"\n\n\"That is true, indeed,\" said Percivale, \"and I shall do all I can for\nyou.\"\n\n\"You have my earnest thanks,\" she said.\n\nThen, as the weather was hot, she called some of her attendants, and\nbade them bring a pavilion and set it up on the gravel near the\nsea-line.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" she said, \"I pray you to rest here in the heat of the day,\nwhile my attendants prepare food for you.\"\n\nHe thanked her and laid aside his helm and shield, and fell asleep\nwithin the pavilion, where he slumbered long. When he awoke he asked her\nif the food was ready.\n\n\"Yes,\" she answered; \"I have worked while you slumbered.\"\n\nThen a table was set within the pavilion, and covered with a rich array\nof meats and drinks, of which Percivale ate with great appetite, while\nthe lady sat opposite him with a very gracious aspect. The wine he drank\nwas the strongest that had ever passed his lips, and its strength soon\ngot into his veins and heated his brain.\n\nThe lady now smiled graciously upon him, and it seemed to him that he\nhad never beheld so fair a creature. Her beauty so worked upon his\nheated blood, indeed, that he proffered her his love, and prayed\nearnestly for hers in return.\n\nWhen she saw his loving ardor, and that the wine worked like fire in his\nblood, she said, with a smile of witchery,--\n\n\"Sir Percivale, if I become yours, you must become mine. I shall not\ngrant you my love unless you swear that henceforth you will be my true\nservant, and do nothing but what I shall command. Will you thus bind\nyourself, as you are a true knight?\"\n\n\"That will I, fair lady, by the faith of my body.\"\n\n\"Then this I will say, that of all the knights in the world you are he\nwhom I most love. And you may seal upon my lips the compact we have\nmade.\"\n\nBut when Percivale came towards her, to claim the proffered kiss, which\nshe offered with such bewitching grace, by chance or through God's aid\nhe saw his sword, which lay on the ground at his feet, and in its pommel\na red cross, with the sign of the crucifix therein. Then came to his\nmind the promise he had made to the old man, and his knightly vows, and\nwith a pious impulse he raised his hand and made the sign of the cross\non his forehead, the while his eyes were fixed on the lovely face of the\ntempter before him.\n\nAs he did so her smile changed to a look of deadly hate, and the\nloveliness of her face to a hideous aspect, while in the same moment the\npavilion fell as before a great wind, and then vanished in smoke and\ncloud.\n\nOver the sea the wind rose and roared, and as he looked he saw the ship\nbattling with heaving waves, while the water seemed to burn behind it.\nOn the deck stood the lady, who cried,--\n\n\"Sir Percivale, you have betrayed me! Beware, proud knight, I shall have\nmy revenge.\" Then the ship drove out to sea, and vanished from his\nsight.\n\nBut in a passion of remorse Percivale snatched up the sword that lay\nbefore him, and crying, \"Since my flesh has been my master I will punish\nit,\" he drove the naked blade through his thigh, till the blood spouted\nout like a fountain.\n\n\"Wretch that I am, how nearly was I lost!\" he cried, in a torment of\nconscience. \"Fair sweet Father, Jesus Christ my Lord, let me not be\nshamed, as I would now have been but for thy good grace. Take this wound\nin recompense for what I have done against thee, and forgive me my deep\ntransgression, I humbly pray thee.\"\n\nBut as he lay moaning and bleeding the wild winds went down and the sea\ngrew smooth, while he saw coming from the Orient the ship with the good\nman, on board, on beholding whom he fell into a swoon.\n\nWhen he awoke he found that his wound had been dressed and the bleeding\nstopped. Beside him sat the good man, who asked him,--\n\n\"How hast thou done since I departed?\"\n\n\"Weakly and wickedly enough,\" he answered. \"A witch beguiled me, and I\nnearly fell a victim to her wiles.\"\n\n\"Knew you her not?\"\n\n\"Only that I deem the foul fiend sent her here to shame me.\"\n\n\"Worse than that, good knight. Your victory is greater than you deem.\nThat seeming woman who deceived you was no less an adversary than the\nmaster-fiend of hell, who has power over all the lesser devils, and, had\nyou yielded you had been lost forever. For this is the mighty champion\nagainst whom you were forwarned; he who was once the brightest angel of\nheaven, and was driven out by our Lord Christ for his sins, and thus\nlost his heritage. But that the grace of God was on your side you would\nhave fallen before this champion of evil. Take this, Sir Percivale, as a\nwarning and an example.\"\n\nWith these words the good man vanished away. Then the mariners carried\nthe wounded knight on board their ship, and set sail, bearing him\nrapidly away from that scene of temptation and victory.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF SIR BORS.\n\n\nWhen Sir Bors parted from his companions, on the quest of the Sangreal,\nnot far had he gone when he met a religious man riding on an ass, whom\nhe courteously saluted.\n\n\"Who are you?\" asked the good man.\n\n\"I am one of those knights who have set out in quest of the Sangreal,\"\nsaid Bors. \"I would fain have your counsel in this high duty, for great\nhonor shall come to him who succeeds therein.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" said the good man. \"He that wins the Sangreal will be\ncounted the best knight and the purest soul among men. None can hope to\nattain it except through cleanness of spirit.\"\n\nThen they rode together till they came to a hermitage. Here Bors went\ninto the chapel with his companion, and confessed to him, and ate bread\nand drank water with him.\n\n\"Now,\" said the good man, \"I charge you that you take no other food than\nbread and water till you sit at the table where the Sangreal shall be.\"\n\n\"To that I agree. But how know you that I shall ever sit there?\"\n\n\"I know it, let that suffice; but few of your comrades shall have that\nhonor.\"\n\n\"All that God sends me will be welcome,\" said Bors.\n\n\"Also, instead of a shirt, and in token of chastisement, you shall wear\nthis garment,\" and the good man produced a scarlet coat, which Bors\npromised to wear next his skin till the Sangreal should be won.\n\nThen, after further wholesome advice, he resumed his armor and departed.\nHe had gone but a little way from the hermitage when he passed a tree\nthat was little more than an old and leafless trunk, and on one of its\nboughs he saw a great bird, surrounded by young that were nearly dead\nwith hunger. As, he continued to look at this strange sight, the bird\nsmote itself in the breast with its sharp beak, and bled till it died\namong its young. Then the young birds fed on their mother's blood, and\nwere revived thereby.\n\nThis to Bors seemed full of deep significance, and he pondered deeply\nupon it as he rode onward. By even-song he found himself near a strong\nand high tower, where he asked shelter for the night, and was hospitably\nwelcomed.\n\nWhen he had disarmed he was led to a richly furnished apartment, where\nhe found a young and fair lady, who welcomed him gladly to her tower,\nand invited him to take supper with her.\n\nThe table was set with rich meats and many dainties, but Bors forgot not\nthe hermit's charge, and bade an attendant to bring him water. In this\nhe sopped bread and ate it.\n\n\"How is this?\" asked the lady in surprise. \"Like you not my meat?\"\n\n\"Truly I do, madam; yet I may eat no other food this day.\"\n\nThen the lady was silent, for she feared to displease him by\nquestioning. After supper, while they sat talking, a squire came, who\nsaid,--\n\n\"Madam, you know well what is set for to-morrow. You must provide a\nchampion to fight in your quarrel against Pridam le Noire, or your\nsister will have this castle and all your lands.\"\n\n\"I know that,\" she said, with a deep sigh. \"May God save me from being\nrobbed, for I see no earthly aid.\"\n\nHer sorrow touched Bors, who asked,--\n\n\"What means this, madam?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" she said, \"I shall tell you. There was formerly a king named\nAniause, who owned all these lands. By chance he loved my sister, who is\nmuch older than I,--and much wickeder also, I fear. He gave her this\nland to govern; but she brought into it many evil customs, and caused\nthe death of many of his kinsmen. When the king saw how vilely she\ngoverned, he drove her away, and put me over this district. But he is\nnow dead, and she is making war on me, and has destroyed many of my\nmen, and turned others from me, so that I have little left but this\ntower, and the few men that guard it. Even this she now threatens to\ntake from me, unless I can find a knight to fight her champion, who will\nappear before my gates to-morrow.\"\n\n\"Is it so?\" said Bors. \"Who is this Pridam le Noire?\"\n\n\"He is the most stalwart knight in this country, and has no equal among\nus.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said Bors, \"you have given me shelter; in return I shall aid\nyou as far as I can in your trouble. You may send word that you have\nfound a knight who will fight with this Pridam the Black, in God's\nquarrel and yours.\"\n\n\"Then may God's blessing rest upon you,\" she cried, gladly. And word was\nsent out that she had found a champion who would take on himself her\nquarrel.\n\nThat evening she did what lay in her power to make Bors welcome, and\nsent him at bedtime to a chamber whose bed was soft as down, and spread\nwith silken coverings.\n\nBut in no bed would he rest, but laid himself on the floor, as he had\nvowed to do till he found the Sangreal.\n\nAs he lay there asleep there came to him a vision. He seemed to see two\nbirds, one white as a swan, the other of smaller size, and shaped like a\nraven, with plumage of inky blackness. The white bird came to him and\nsaid, \"If thou wilt give me meat and serve me, I shall give thee all the\nriches of the world, and make thee as fair and white as I am.\" Then the\nwhite bird departed, and the black bird came and said, \"I beg that you\nwill serve me to-morrow, and hold me in no despite; for this I tell you,\nthat my blackness will avail you more than the other's whiteness.\" And\nthis bird, too, departed.\n\nBut his dream continued, and he seemed to come to a great place, that\nlooked like a chapel. Here he saw on the left side a chair, which was\nworm-eaten and feeble. And on the right hand were two flowers of the\nshape of a lily, and one would have taken the whiteness from the other\nbut that a good man separated them, and would not let them touch. And\nout of each came many flowers and plentiful fruit. Then the good man\nsaid, \"Would not he act with great folly that should let these two\nflowers perish to succor the rotten tree, and keep it from falling?\"\n\"Sir,\" said the dreamer, \"it seems to me that the flower is of more\nvalue than the wood.\" \"Then take heed that you never choose the false\nfor the true.\"\n\nWith this Bors awoke, and made the sign of the cross on his forehead,\nand then rose and dressed. When he had come to the lady she saluted him,\nand led him to a chapel, where they heard the morning service. Quickly\nafterwards there came a company of knights that the lady had sent for,\nto lead her champion to battle. After he had armed, she begged him to\ntake some strengthening food.\n\n\"Nay, madam,\" he answered, \"that I shall not do till I have fought this\nbattle, in which I ask but God's grace to aid me.\"\n\nThis said, he sprang upon his horse, and set out with the knights and\nmen, closely followed by the lady and her train. They soon came to where\nthe other party were encamped, and with them the lady of their choice.\n\n\"Madam,\" said the lady of the tower, \"you have done me great wrong to\ntake from me the lands which King Aniause gave me. And I am sorry that\nthere should be any battle.\"\n\n\"You shall not choose,\" said the other, \"unless you withdraw your knight\nand yield the tower.\"\n\n\"That I shall not do. You have robbed me enough already.\"\n\nThen was the trumpet sounded, and proclamation was made that whichever\nchampion won the battle, the lady for whom he fought should enjoy all\nthe land. This done, the two champions drew aside, and faced each other\ngrimly in their armor of proof.\n\nBut when the sound for the onset was blown they put spurs to their\nsteeds, which rushed together like two lions, and the knights struck\neach other with such force that their spears flew to pieces and both\nfell to the earth.\n\nThey quickly rose and drew their swords, and hewed at each other like\ntwo woodmen, so that soon each was sorely wounded and bleeding\nprofusely. Bors quickly found that he had a sturdier antagonist than he\nexpected, for Pridam was a strong and hardy fighter, who stood up\nlustily to his work, and gave his opponent many a sturdy blow.\n\nBors, perceiving this, took a new course, and played with his antagonist\ntill he saw that he was growing weary with his hard work. Then he\nadvanced upon him fiercely, and drove him step by step backward, till\nin the end Pridam fell. Bors now leaped upon him and pulled so strongly\nupon his helm as to rend it from his head. Then he struck him with the\nflat of his sword upon the cheek, and bade him yield, or he would kill\nhim.\n\n\"For God's love, slay me not!\" cried the knight. \"I yield me to thy\nmercy. I shall swear never to war against thy lady, but be henceforth\nher friend and protector.\"\n\nWith this assurance, Bors let him live; while the covetous old lady fled\nin fear, followed by all her knights. The victorious champion now called\nto him all those who held lands in that estate, and threatened to\ndestroy them unless they would do the lady such service as belonged to\ntheir holdings. This they swore to do, and there and then paid homage to\nthe lady, who thus came to her own again through the mighty prowess of\nSir Bors de Ganis.\n\nNot until the country was well in peace did he take his leave, refusing\nthe offers of wealth which the grateful lady pressed upon him, and\nreceiving her warm thanks with a humility that well became him.\n\nHardly would she let him go; but at length he bade her farewell, and\nrode away from her tears and thanks. On he journeyed for all that day,\nand till midday of the next, when he found himself in a forest, where a\nstrange adventure befell him.\n\nFor at the parting of two ways he met two knights who had taken prisoner\nhis brother Lionel, whom they had bound all naked upon a hackney, while\nthey beat him with thorns till the blood flowed from every part of his\nbody. Yet so great of heart was he that no word came from his lips, and\nhe made no sign of pain.\n\nBors, seeing this, was on the point of rushing to his rescue, when he\nbeheld on the other side a knight who held as prisoner a fair lady, whom\nhe was taking into the thickest part of the forest to hide her from\nthose who sought her. And as they went she cried in a lamentable\nvoice,--\n\n\"Saint Mary, rescue me! Holy mother, succor your maid!\"\n\nWhen she saw Bors she cried out to him grievously for aid and rescue.\n\n\"By the faith you owe to the high order of knighthood, and for the noble\nKing Arthur's sake, who I suppose made you knight, help me, gracious\nsir, and suffer me not to come to shame through this felon knight!\"\n\nOn hearing this appeal the distracted knight knew not what to do. On one\nside his brother in danger of his life; on the other a maiden in peril\nof her honor.\n\n\"If I rescue not my brother he will be slain; and that I would not have\nfor the earth. Yet if I help not the maiden, I am recreant to my vows of\nknighthood, and to my duty to the high order of chivalry.\"\n\nTears ran from his eyes as he stood in cruel perplexity. Then, with a\nknightly resolution, he cried,--\n\n\"Fair sweet Lord Jesus, whose liegeman I am, keep Lionel my brother\nthat these knights slay him not; since for your service, and for Mary's\nsake, I must succor this maid.\"\n\nThen he turned to the knight who had the damsel, and loudly cried,--\n\n\"Sir knight, take your hands from that maiden and set her free, or you\nare a dead man.\"\n\nOn hearing this the knight released the maiden as bidden, but drew his\nsword, as he had no spear, and rode fiercely at the rescuer. Bors met\nhim with couched spear, and struck him so hard a blow as to pierce his\nshield and his hauberk on the left shoulder, beating him down to the\nearth. On pulling out the spear the wounded knight swooned.\n\n\"You are delivered from this felon. Can I help you further?\" said Bors\nto the maiden.\n\n\"I beg you to take me to the place whence he carried me away.\"\n\n\"That shall I do as my duty.\"\n\nThen he seated her on the knight's horse, and conducted her back towards\nher home.\n\n\"You have done nobly, sir knight,\" she said. \"If you had not rescued me,\nfive hundred men might have died for this. The knight you wounded is my\ncousin, who yesterday stole me away from my father's house, no one\nmistrusting him. But if you had not overcome him, there would soon have\nbeen others on his track.\"\n\nEven as she spoke there came a troop of twelve knights riding briskly\nforward in search of her. When they found her delivered their joy was\ngreat, and they thanked Bors profusely, begging him to accompany them\nto her father, who was a great lord, and would welcome him with\ngladness.\n\n\"That I cannot do,\" said Bors, \"much as I should like to; for I have\nanother matter of high importance before me. I can but say, then,\nfarewell, and God be with you and this fair maiden.\"\n\nSo saying, he turned and rode briskly away, followed by their earnest\nthanks. Reaching the point where he had seen Lionel in custody, he took\nthe trail of the horses, and followed them far by their hoof-marks in\nthe road. Then he overtook a religious man, who was mounted on a strong\nhorse, blacker than a berry.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" he asked, \"what seek you?\"\n\n\"I seek my brother,\" he replied, \"who came this way beaten by two\nknights.\"\n\n\"Then seek no further, but be strong of heart, for I have sad tidings\nfor you. Your brother is dead.\"\n\nHe then led Bors to a clump of bushes, in which lay a newly slain body,\nwhich seemed to be that of Lionel. Seeing this, Bors broke into such\ngrief that he fell to the earth in a swoon, and long lay there. When he\nrecovered he said, sadly,--\n\n\"Dear brother, I would have rescued you had not a higher duty called me.\nBut since we are thus parted, joy shall never again enter my desolate\nheart. I can now but say, be He whom I have taken for my master my help\nand comfort.\"\n\nThus grieving, he took up the body in his arms, and put it upon his\nsaddle-bow. Then he said to his companion,--\n\n\"Can you tell me of some chapel, where I may bury this body?\"\n\n\"Come with me. There is one near by.\"\n\n[Illustration: AN OLD AND HALF-RUINED CHAPEL.]\n\nThey rode forward till they came in sight of a tower, beside which was\nan old and half-ruined chapel. Here they alighted, and placed the corpse\nin a tomb of marble.\n\n\"We will leave him here,\" said the good man, \"and seek shelter for the\nnight. To-morrow we will return and perform the services for the dead.\"\n\n\"Are you a priest?\" asked Bors.\n\n\"Yes,\" he answered.\n\n\"Then you may be able to interpret a dream that came to me last night.\"\n\nThereupon he told his dream of the birds, and that of the flowers.\n\n\"I can interpret the vision of the birds now,\" said the priest. \"The\nrest must wait till later. The white bird is the emblem of a rich and\nfair lady, who loves you deeply, and will die for love if you pity her\nnot. I counsel you, therefore, not to refuse her, for this I shall tell\nyou, that if you return not her love, your cousin Lancelot, the best of\nknights, shall die. Men will call you a man-slayer, both of your brother\nLionel and your cousin Lancelot, since you might have saved them both\neasily if you would. You rescued a maiden who was naught to you, and let\nyour brother perish. Which, think you, was your greater duty?\"\n\n\"I did what I thought my duty,\" said Bors.\n\n\"At any rate, bear this in mind, you will be in sad fault if you suffer\nyour cousin Lancelot to die for an idle scruple.\"\n\n\"I should be sad, indeed,\" said Bors. \"Rather would I die ten times over\nthan see my cousin Lancelot perish through fault of mine.\"\n\n\"The choice lies in your hand,\" said the priest. \"It is for you to\ndecide.\"\n\nAs he spoke they came in front of a fair-showing tower and manor-house,\nwhere were knights and ladies, who welcomed Bors warmly. When he was\ndisarmed there was brought him a mantle furred with ermine. Then he was\nled to the company of knights and ladies, who received him so gladly,\nand did so much to make his stay pleasant, that all thoughts of his\nbrother Lionel and of the danger of Lancelot were driven from his mind.\n\nAs they stood in gay converse there came out of a chamber a lady whom\nBors had not before seen, and whose beauty was such that he felt he had\nnever beheld so lovely a face, while her dress was richer than Queen\nGuenever had ever worn.\n\n\"Here, Sir Bors,\" said those present, \"is the lady to whom we all owe\nservice. Richer and fairer lady the world holds not, and she loves you\nabove all other knights, and will have no knight but you.\"\n\nOn hearing this, Bors stood abashed. This, then, he thought, was the\nwhite bird of his dream. Her love he must return or lose Lancelot,--so\nfate had spoken.\n\nAs he stood deeply thinking, the lady came up and saluted him, taking\nhis hand in hers, and bidding him sit beside her, while her deep eyes\nrested upon him with looks that made his soul tremble. Never had he\ngazed into such eyes before.\n\nThen she spoke of many things, luring him into pleasant conversation, in\nwhich he forgot his fears, and began to take delight in her presence. At\nthe end she told him how deeply and how long she had loved him, and\nbegged him to return her love, saying that she could make him richer\nthan ever was man of his age.\n\nThese words brought back all his trouble of soul. How to answer the lady\nhe knew not, for his vow of chastity was too deep to be lightly broken.\n\n\"Alas!\" she said, \"must I plead for your love in vain?\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said Bors, \"I cannot think of earthly ties and delights while\nmy brother lies dead, and awaits the rites of the Church.\"\n\n\"I have loved you long,\" she repeated, \"both for your beauty of body and\nsoul, and the high renown you have achieved. Now that chance has brought\nyou to my home, think not ill of me if I let you not go without telling\nmy love, and beseeching you to return it.\"\n\n\"That I cannot do,\" said Bors.\n\nAt these words she fell into the deepest sorrow, while tears flowed from\nher beautiful eyes.\n\n\"You will kill me by your coldness,\" she bewailed. Then she took him by\nthe hand and bade him look upon her. \"Am I not fair and lovely, and\nworthy the love of the best of knights? Alas! since you will not love\nme, you shall see me die of despair before your eyes.\"\n\n\"That I do not fear to see,\" he replied.\n\n\"You shall see it within this hour,\" she said, sadly.\n\nThen she left him, and, taking with her twelve of her ladies, mounted to\nthe highest battlement of the tower, while Bors was led to the\ncourt-yard below.\n\n\"Ah, Sir Bors, gentle knight, have pity on us!\" cried one of the ladies.\n\"We shall all die if you are cruel to our lady, for she vows that she\nand all of us shall fall from this tower if you disdain her proffered\nlove.\"\n\nBors looked up, and his heart melted with pity, to see so many fair\nfaces looking beseechingly down upon him, while tears seemed to rain\nfrom their eyes. Yet he was steadfast of heart, for he felt that he\ncould not lose his soul to save their lives, and his vow of chastity in\nthe quest of the Sangreal was not to be broken for the delights of\nearthly love.\n\nAs he stood, some of the maidens flung themselves from the tower, and\nlay dead and bleeding at his feet, while above he saw the fair face of\nthe lady looking down, as she stood balanced on the battlement, like a\nfair leaf that the next wind would sweep to certain death.\n\n\"God help me and guide me!\" cried Bors in horror. \"What shall I do? Here\nearthly endurance is too weak; I must put my trust in heaven.\" And he\nmade the sign of the cross on his forehead and his breast.\n\nThen came a marvel indeed. A roar was heard as if thunder had rent the\nsky, and a cry as if all the fiends of hell were about him. For the\nmoment he closed his eyes, stunned by the uproar. When he opened them\nagain all had gone,--the tower, the lady, the knights, and the chapel\nwhere he had placed his brother's body,--and he stood in the road, armed\nand mounted, while only a broad, empty plain spread before him.\n\nThen he held up his hands to heaven and cried fervently: \"Father and\nCreator, from what have I escaped! It is the foul fiend in the likeness\nof a beautiful woman who has tempted me. Only the sign of the holy cross\nhas saved me from perdition.\"\n\nPutting spurs to his horse he rode furiously away, burning with anxiety\nto get from that accursed place, and deeply glad at his escape. As he\nproceeded a loud clock-bell sounded to the right, and turning thither he\ncame to a high wall, over which he saw the pinnacles of an abbey.\n\nHere he asked shelter for the night, and was received with a warm\nwelcome, for those within deemed he was one of the knights that sought\nthe Sangreal. When morning came he heard mass, and then the abbot came\nand bade him good-morning. A conversation followed, in which he told the\nabbot all that had happened to him, and begged his interpretation\nthereof.\n\n\"Truly you are strong in the service of the Lord,\" said the abbot, \"and\nare held for great deeds. Thus I interpret your adventures and visions.\nThe great fowl that fed its young with its own blood is an emblem of\nChrist, who shed his blood for the good of mankind. And the bare tree on\nwhich it sat signifies the world, which of itself is barren and without\nfruit. Also King Aniause betokens Jesus Christ, and the lady for whom\nyou took the battle the new law of Holy Church; while the older lady is\nthe emblem of the old law and the fiend, which forever war against the\nChurch.\n\n\"By the black bird also was emblemed the Holy Church, which saith, 'I\nam black but he is fair.' The white bird represented the fiend, which,\nlike hypocrisy, is white without and foul within. As for the rotten\nchair and the white lilies, the first was thy brother Lionel, who is a\nmurderer and an untrue knight; while the lilies were the knight and the\nlady. The one drew near to the other to dishonor her, but you forced\nthem to part. And you would have been in great peril had you, for the\nrescue of a rotten tree, suffered those two flowers to perish; for if\nthey had sinned together they had both been damned.\n\n\"The seeming man of religion, who blamed you for leaving your brother to\nrescue a lady, was the foul fiend himself. Your brother was not slain,\nas he made it appear, but is still alive. For the corpse, and the\nchapel, and the tower were all devices of the evil one, and the lady who\noffered her love was the fiend himself in that showing. He knew you were\ntender-hearted, and he did all. Much you may thank God that you\nwithstood his temptation, and that until now you have come through all\nyour adventures pure and unblemished.\"\n\nThis gladdened the heart of the virtuous knight, and a warm hope of\nwinning the Sangreal arose in his soul. Much more passed between them,\nand when Bors rode forth it was with the fervent blessing of the holy\nabbot.\n\nOn the morning of the second day Bors saw before him a castle that rose\nin a green valley, and met with a yeoman, whom he stopped and asked what\nwas going on in that country.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" he answered, \"there is to be held a great tournament\nbefore that castle.\"\n\n\"By what people?\" asked Bors.\n\n\"The Earl of Plains,\" was the answer, \"leads one party, and the nephew\nof the Lady of Hervin the other.\"\n\nWith this the yeoman rode on, and Bors kept on his course, thinking he\nmight meet Lionel or some other of his old comrades at the tournament.\nAt length he turned aside to a hermitage that stood at the entrance to\nthe forest. And to his surprise and joy he saw his brother Lionel\nsitting armed at the chapel door, waiting there to take part in the\ntournament the next morning.\n\nSpringing from his horse, Bors ran up gladly, crying, \"Dear brother,\nhappy is this meeting!\"\n\n\"Come not near me!\" cried Lionel, leaping to his feet in a burst of\nfury. \"False recreant, you left me in peril of death to help a yelping\nwoman, and by my knightly vow you shall pay dearly for it. Keep from me,\ntraitor, and defend yourself. You or I shall die for this.\"\n\nOn seeing his brother in such wrath Bors kneeled beseechingly before\nhim, holding up his hands, and praying for pardon and forgiveness.\n\n\"Never!\" said Lionel. \"I vow to God to punish you for your treachery.\nYou have lived long enough for a dog and traitor.\"\n\nThen he strode wrathfully away, and came back soon, mounted and with\nspear in hand.\n\n\"Bors de Ganis,\" he cried, \"defend yourself, for I hold you as a felon\nand traitor, and the untruest knight that ever came from so worthy a\nhouse as ours. Mount and fight. If you will not, I will run on you as\nyou stand there on foot. The shame shall be mine and the harm yours; but\nof that shame I reck naught.\"\n\nWhen Bors saw that he must fight with his brother or die he knew not\nwhat to do. Again he kneeled and begged forgiveness, in view of the love\nthat ought to be between brothers.\n\nBut the fiend that sought his overthrow had put such fury into Lionel's\nheart that nothing could turn him from his wrathful purpose. And when he\nsaw that Bors would not mount, he spurred his horse upon him and rode\nover him, hurting him so with his horse's hoofs that he swooned with the\npain. Then Lionel sprang from his horse and rushed upon him sword in\nhand to strike off his head.\n\nAt this critical moment the hermit, who was a man of great age, came\nrunning out, and threw himself protectingly on the fallen knight.\n\n\"Gentle sir,\" he cried to Lionel, \"have mercy on me and on thy brother,\nwho is one of the worthiest knights in the world. If you slay him, you\nwill lose your soul.\"\n\n\"Sir priest,\" said Lionel, sternly, \"if you leave not I shall slay you,\nand him after you.\"\n\n\"Slay me if you will, but spare your brother, for my death would not do\nhalf so much harm as his.\"\n\n\"Have it, then, meddler, if you will!\" cried Lionel, and he struck the\nhermit a blow with his sword that stretched him dead on the ground.\n\nThen, with unquenched anger, he tore loose the lacings of his brother's\nhelmet, and would have killed him on the spot but for a fortunate\nchance.\n\nAs it happened, Colgrevance, a fellow of the Round Table, rode up at\nthat moment, and wondered when he saw the hermit dead, and Lionel about\nto slay his brother, whom he greatly loved.\n\nLeaping hastily to the ground, he caught the furious knight by the\nshoulders and drew him strongly backward.\n\n\"What would you do?\" he cried. \"Madman, would you kill your brother, the\nworthiest knight of our brotherhood? And are you so lost to honor as to\nslay any knight thus lying insensible?\"\n\n\"Will you hinder me?\" asked Lionel, turning in rage. \"Back, sirrah, or I\nshall slay you first and him afterwards.\"\n\n\"Why seek you to slay him?\"\n\n\"He has richly deserved it, and die he shall, whoever says the\ncontrary.\"\n\nThen he ran upon Bors and raised his sword to strike him on the head.\nBut Colgrevance pushed between them and thrust him fiercely backward.\n\n\"Off, you murderer!\" he cried. \"If you are so hot for blood you must\nhave mine first.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" demanded Lionel.\n\n\"I am Colgrevance, one of your fellows. Round Table Knights should be\nbrothers, not foes, but I would challenge King Arthur himself in this\nquarrel.\"\n\n\"Defend yourself, meddler,\" cried Lionel, rushing upon him and striking\nhim fiercely on the helm with his sword.\n\n\"That shall I,\" rejoined Colgrevance, attacking him in turn.\n\nThen a hot battle began, for Colgrevance was a good knight, and defended\nhimself manfully.\n\nWhile the fight went on Bors recovered his senses, and saw with a sad\nheart Colgrevance defending him against his brother. He strove to rise\nand part them, but his hurts were such that he could not stand on his\nfeet. And thus he sat watching the combat till he saw that Colgrevance\nhad the worst, for Lionel had wounded him sorely, and he had lost so\nmuch blood that he could barely stand.\n\nAt this juncture he saw Bors, who sat watching them in deep anguish.\n\n\"Bors,\" he cried, \"I am fighting to succor you. Will you sit there and\nsee me perish?\"\n\n\"You both shall die,\" cried Lionel, furiously. \"You shall pay the\npenalty of your meddling, and he of his treason.\"\n\nHearing this, Bors rose with aching limbs, and painfully put on his\nhelm. Colgrevance again called to him in anguish,--\n\n\"Help me, Bors! I can stand no longer. Will you let me die without\nlifting your hand?\"\n\nAt this moment Lionel smote the helm from his head, and then with\nanother fierce blow stretched him dead and bleeding upon the earth.\n\nThis murderous deed done, he ran on Bors with the passion of a fiend,\nand dealt him a blow that made him stoop.\n\n\"For God's love leave me!\" cried Bors. \"If I slay you or you me, we will\nboth be dead of that sin.\"\n\n\"May God never help me if I take mercy on you, if I have the better\nhand,\" cried Lionel, in reply.\n\nThen Bors drew his sword, though his eyes were wet with tears.\n\n\"Fair brother,\" he said, \"God knows my heart. You have done evil enough\nthis day, in slaying a holy priest and one of our own brotherhood of\nknights. I fear you not, but I dread the wrath of God, for this is an\nunnatural battle which you force upon me. May God have mercy upon me,\nsince I must defend my life against my brother.\"\n\nSaying this, Bors raised his sword and advanced upon Lionel, who stood\nbefore him with the wrath of a fury.\n\nThen would have been a most unholy battle, had not God come to the\nrescue. For as they thus stood defiant a voice came to them from the\nair, which said,--\n\n\"Flee, Bors, and touch him not, for if you do, you will surely slay\nhim.\"\n\nAnd between them descended a cloud that gleamed like fire, and from\nwhich issued a marvellous flame that burned both their shields to a\ncinder. They were both so affrighted that they fell to the earth, and\nlay there long in a swoon.\n\nWhen they came to themselves Bors saw that his brother had received no\nharm. For this he thanked God, for he feared that heaven's vengeance had\nfallen upon him. Then came the voice again.\n\n\"Bors,\" it said, \"go hence, and bear thy brother company no longer. Take\nthy way to the sea where Percivale awaiteth thee.\"\n\n\"Forgive me, brother,\" said Bors, \"for what I have done against you.\"\n\n\"God has forgiven you, and I must,\" said Lionel. \"It was the foul fiend\nthat filled my soul with fury, and much harm has come of it.\"\n\nThen Bors rode away, leaving Lionel in the company of those whom he had\nslain, and took the most direct road towards the sea.\n\nAt length he came to an abbey that was near the water-side. And at\nmidnight as he rested there he was roused from his sleep by a voice,\nthat bade him leave his bed and ride onward.\n\nHe started up at this, and made the sign of the cross on his forehead;\nthen took his harness and horse, and rode out at a broken place in the\nabbey wall. An hour or so brought him to the water-side, and on the\nstrand there lay awaiting him a ship all covered with white samite. Bors\nalighted, and leaving his horse on the stand entered the ship,\ncommending himself to Christ's fostering care.\n\nHardly had he done so before the sails spread, as of themselves, and the\nvessel set out to sea so fast that it seemed to fly. But it was still\ndark night, and he saw no one about him. So he lay down and slept till\nday.\n\nWhen he awaked he saw a knight lying in the middle of the deck, all\narmed but the helm. A glance told him that it was Percivale de Galis,\nand he sprang towards him with joy. But Percivale drew back, asking him\nwho he was.\n\n\"Know you me not?\" asked Bors.\n\n\"I do not. But I marvel how you came hither, unless brought by our Lord\nhimself.\"\n\nThen Bors took off his helm and smiled. Great was Percivale's joy when\nhe recognized him, and long did they converse in gladness, telling each\nother their adventures and temptations.\n\nAnd so they went far over the sea, the ship taking them they knew not\nwhither, yet each comforted the other, and daily they prayed for God's\ngrace.\n\n\"Now, that we two are together,\" said Percivale, \"we lack nothing but\nGalahad, the best of knights.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nTHE ADVENTURE OF THE MAGIC SHIP.\n\n\nAfter Galahad had rescued Percivale from the twenty knights, he rode\ninto a vast forest, through which he journeyed for many days, meeting\nthere many strange adventures. Then fortune took him past a castle where\na tournament was in progress, and where the men of the castle had so\nmuch the worse of it that they were driven back to their gates, and some\nof them slain. Seeing this, Galahad rode to the aid of the weaker party,\nand did marvellous deeds of arms, soon aiding them to drive back their\nfoes.\n\nAs it happened, Gawaine and Hector de Maris were with the outer party,\nand when they beheld the white shield with the red cross, they said to\none another,--\n\n\"That hewer of helms and shields is Galahad, none less. We should be\nfools to meet him face to face.\"\n\nYet Gawaine did not escape, for Galahad came at full career upon him,\nand gave him such a blow that his helm was cleft, and so would his head\nhave been but that the sword slanted, and cut the shoulder of his horse\ndeeply.\n\nSeeing Gawaine thus dealt with, Hector drew back, not deeming it wise to\nmeet such a champion, nor the part of nature to fight with his nephew.\nGalahad continued his onset till he had beaten down all the knights\nopposed to him. Then, seeing that none would face him, he turned and\nrode away as he had come, none knowing whither he, who had come upon\nthem with the suddenness of a thunder-clap, had gone.\n\n\"Lancelot du Lake told no less than the truth,\" declared Gawaine,\nbitterly, \"when he said that, for seeking to draw the sword from the\nstone, I would get a sore wound from that same blade. In faith, I would\nnot for the best castle in the world have had such a buffet.\"\n\n\"Your quest is done, it seems,\" said Hector.\n\n\"As for that, it was done before. You can still seek the Sangreal if you\nwill, but I shall seek my bed; and I fear I shall stay there much longer\nthan I care to.\"\n\nThen he was borne into the castle, where a leech was found for him,\nwhile Hector remained with him, vowing he would not leave till his\ncomrade was well.\n\nMeanwhile Galahad rode on, leaving many a groan and more than one sore\nhead behind him, and at night reached a hermitage near the castle of\nCarbonek. Here he was welcomed by the hermit; but late at night, when\nthey were asleep, a loud knock came on the door, which roused the host.\nGoing to see who knocked at that untimely hour, he found a lady at the\ndoor, who said,--\n\n\"Ulfin, rouse the knight who is with you. I must speak with him.\"\n\nThis he did, and Galahad went to the door, and asked her what she\nwished.\n\n\"Galahad,\" she replied, \"I am sent here to seek you. You must arm and\nmount your horse at once, and follow me. Within three days I shall bring\nyou to the greatest adventure that ever knight met.\"\n\nWithout further question Galahad obeyed, and, having commended himself\nto God, he bade his fair guide to lead, and he would follow wherever she\nwished.\n\nOnward they rode during the remainder of the night and the next day,\ntill they came to a castle not far from the sea, where Galahad was\nwarmly welcomed, for the damsel who guided him had been sent by the lady\nof that castle.\n\n\"Madam,\" said the damsel, \"shall he stay here all night?\"\n\n\"No,\" she replied; \"only until he has dined, and has slept a little. He\nmust ride on until destiny is accomplished.\"\n\nSo at early nightfall Galahad was called and helped to arm by\ntorchlight. Then he and the damsel again took horse, and rode on at\nspeed till they suddenly found themselves at the ocean's brink, with the\nwaves breaking at their feet. And here lay a ship covered with white\nsamite, from which manly voices cried,--\n\n\"Welcome, Sir Galahad. We have long awaited you. Come on board.\"\n\n\"What means this?\" asked Galahad of the damsel. \"Who are they that\ncall?\"\n\n\"No others than your friends and comrades, Sir Bors and Sir Percivale.\nHere you must leave your horse, and I mine, and both of us enter the\nship, for so God commands.\"\n\nThis they did, taking their saddles and bridles with them, and making on\nthem the sign of the cross. When they had entered the ship the two\nknights received them with great joy. And as they stood greeting each\nother the wind suddenly rose and drove the ship from the land, forcing\nit through the waves at a marvellous speed.\n\n\"Whence comes this ship?\" asked Galahad.\n\nThen Bors and Percivale told him of their adventures and temptations,\nand by what miracles they had been brought on board that vessel.\n\n\"Truly,\" said Galahad, \"God has aided you marvellously. As for me, had\nit not been for the lady who led me, I should never have found you.\"\n\n\"If Lancelot, your father, were but here,\" said Bors, \"then it would\nseem to me that we had all that heart could wish.\"\n\n\"That may not be,\" answered Galahad, \"unless by the pleasure of our\nLord.\"\n\nAs they conversed the ship suddenly ran between two rocks, where it held\nfast, but where they could not land for the raging of the sea. But just\nbefore them lay another ship, which they could reach without danger.\n\n[Illustration: Copyright 1901 by E. A. Abbey; from a Copely print\ncopyright 1902 by Curtis and Cameron.\n\nTHE MAGIC SHIP.]\n\n\"Thither we must go,\" said the lady, \"and there we shall find strange\nthings, for such is the Lord's will.\"\n\nAt this they approached the ship, and saw that it was richly provided,\nbut without man or woman on board. And on its bow there was written in\nlarge letters,--\n\n\"You who shall enter this ship, take heed of your belief: for I am\nFaith, and bid you beware. If you fail I shall not help you. He who\nenters here must be of pure heart and earnest trust.\"\n\nThey stood looking earnestly at one another after having read these\nwords.\n\n\"Percivale,\" said the lady, \"know you who I am?\"\n\n\"I do not,\" he replied. \"Have I ever seen you before?\"\n\n\"Know, then, that I am your sister, the daughter of King Pellinore. I\nlove no man on earth as I do you. I warn you, therefore, not to enter\nthis ship unless you have perfect belief in our Lord Jesus Christ, for\nif your faith fails you aught here you shall perish.\"\n\n\"Fair sister,\" he replied, \"happy am I, indeed, to know you. As for the\nship, I shall not fail to enter it. If I prove an untrue knight or a\nmisbeliever, then let me perish.\"\n\nAs they spoke, Galahad blessed himself and entered the ship, and after\nhim came the lady, and then Bors and Percivale. On reaching the deck\nthey found it so marvellously fair and rich that they stood in wonder.\nIn the midst of the ship was a noble bed; and when Galahad went thither\nhe found on it a crown of silk. Below this lay a sword, half drawn from\nits scabbard, the pommel being of stone of many colors. The scales of\nthe haft were of the ribs of two beasts. One beast was a serpent, known\nin Calidone as the serpent of the fiend; and its bone had the magic\nvirtue that the hand which touched it should never be weary or hurt. The\nother beast was a fish, that haunted the flood of Euphrates, its name\nErtanax; its bone had the virtue that he who handled it should not think\non the joys and sorrows of his past life, but only of that which he then\nbeheld. And no man could grasp this sword but the one who passed all\nothers in might and virtue.\n\n\"In the name of God,\" said Percivale, \"I shall seek to handle it.\"\n\nBut in vain he tried, he could not grasp the magic hilt. No more could\nBors, who attempted it in his turn. Then Galahad approached, and as he\ndid so saw written on the sword in letters like blood, \"He who draweth\nme has peril to endure. His body shall meet with shame, for he shall be\nwounded to the death.\"\n\n\"By my faith, the risk is too great,\" said Galahad. \"I shall not set my\nhand to so fatal a blade.\"\n\n\"That you must,\" said the lady. \"The drawing of this sword is forbidden\nto all men, save you. No one can draw back from that which destiny\ncommands.\"\n\nThen she told a marvellous story of that strange blade.\n\n\"When this ship arrived in the realm of England,\" she said, \"there was\ndeadly war between King Labor and King Hurlame, who was a christened\nSaracen. Here they fought one day by the sea-side, and Hurlame was\ndefeated and his men slain. Then he fled into this ship, drew the sword\nwhich he saw here, and with one stroke smote King Labor and his horse in\ntwain. But a fatal stroke it proved, for with it there came harm and\npestilence to all this realm. Neither corn nor grass would grow, fruit\nfailed to ripen, the waters held no fish, and men named this the waste\nland of the two marches. Nor did King Hurlame escape. When he saw the\nstrange carving of the sword, a craving came into his mind to possess\nthe scabbard. Entering the ship for that purpose, he thrust the sword\ninto the sheath; but no sooner had he done so than he fell dead beside\nthe bed. And there his body lay till a maiden entered the ship and cast\nit out, for no man could be found hardy enough to set foot on that fatal\ndeck.\"\n\nThe three knights on hearing this looked earnestly at the scabbard,\nwhich seemed to them made of serpent's skin, while on it was writing in\nletters of gold and silver. But the girdle was poor and mean, and ill\nsuited to so rich a sword. The writing was to this effect: \"He who shall\nwield me must be hardy of nature. Nor shall he ever be shamed while he\nis girt with this girdle; which must never be put away except by the\nhands of a maiden and a king's daughter. And she, if she shall ever\ncease to be a maid, shall die the most villanous death that woman ever\nendured.\"\n\n\"Turn the sword,\" said Percivale, \"that we may see what is on the other\nside.\"\n\nOn doing so they found it red as blood, with coal-black letters, which\nsaid: \"He that shall praise me most shall find me most to fail him in\ntime of great need; and to whom I should be most fair shall I prove most\nfoul. Thus is it ordained.\"\n\nThen Percivale's sister told them the history of the sword, which was a\nvery strange and admirable thing to hear. More than once had it been\ndrawn in modern times; once by Nancien, who afterwards became a hermit,\nand in whose hands the sword fell in half, and sorely wounded him in the\nfoot. Afterwards it was drawn by King Pellam, and it was for this\nboldness that he was destined to be deeply wounded by the spear with\nwhich Balin afterwards struck him.\n\nThe knights now observed the bed more closely, and saw that above its\nhead there hung two swords. With them were three strange spindles, one\nof which was white as snow, one red as blood, and one as green as\nemerald. As they gazed at them with curious wonder, the damsel told a\nstrange story of the surprising things they had gazed upon. And thus her\nstory ran.\n\nWhen mother Eve gathered the fruit for which Adam and she were put out\nof Paradise, she took with her the bough on which the apple grew. As it\nkept fair and green, and she had no coffer in which to keep it, she\nthrust it in the earth, where, by God's will, it took root, and soon\ngrew to a great tree, whose branches and leaves were as white as milk.\nBut afterwards, at the time of Abel's birth, it became grass-green. It\nwas under this tree that Cain slew Abel, and then it quickly lost its\ngreen color, and grew red as blood. So it lived and thrived, and was in\nfull life when Solomon, the wise king, came to the throne.\n\nIt came to pass that, as Solomon studied over many things, and, above\nall, despised women in his heart and in his writings, a voice came which\ntold him that of his line would be born the Virgin Mary, the purest and\nnoblest of human kind, and that afterwards would come a man, the last of\nhis blood, as pure in mind as a young maiden, and as good a knight as\nJoshua of Israel. This revelation he told to his wife, who had\nquestioned him as to the reason of his deep study.\n\n\"Sir,\" she said, \"since this knight is to come, it is our duty to\nprepare for him. Therefore, I shall first have made a ship of the best\nand most durable wood that man may find.\"\n\nThis was done by Solomon's command. When the ship was built and ready to\nsail, she made a covering for it of cloth of silk, of such quality that\nno weather could rot it. And in the midst she placed a great bed, of\nmarvellously rich workmanship, and covered with silk of the finest\ntexture.\n\n\"Now, my dear lord,\" she said to Solomon, \"since this last knight of\nyour lineage is to pass in valor and renown all other knights that have\nbeen before or shall come after him, therefore I counsel you to go into\nthe Temple of the Lord, where is the sword of the great King David, your\nfather, which is of magic temper and virtue. Take off the pommel of this\nsword and make one of precious stones, skilfully wrought. And make a\nhilt and sheath of great richness and beauty. As for the girdle, leave\nthat to me to provide.\"\n\nSolomon did as she advised, and she took the sword and laid it in the\nbed; but when he looked at it he grew angry, for the girdle was meanly\nmade of hemp.\n\n\"I have nothing,\" she said, \"fit to make a girdle worthy of such a\nsword. But when the time comes a maiden will change this for a girdle\nworthy of him that is to wear it.\"\n\nThis done, she went with a carpenter to the tree under which Abel was\nslain.\n\n\"Carve me from this tree as much wood as will make me a spindle,\" she\nsaid.\n\n\"Ah, madam,\" said he, \"I dare not cut the tree which our first mother\nplanted.\"\n\n\"Do as you are bidden,\" she ordered. \"Dare not disobey me.\"\n\nBut as he began to cut the tree drops of blood flowed out. Then he would\nhave fled, but she made him cut sufficient to form a spindle. Next she\nwent to the green and the white trees, which had grown from the roots of\nthe other, and bade him cut as much from each of these. From this wood\nwere three spindles wrought, which she hung up at the head of the bed.\n\n\"You have done marvellously well,\" said Solomon, on seeing this.\n\"Wonderful things, I deem, shall come of all this, more than you\nyourself dream of.\"\n\n\"Some of these things you shall soon know,\" she answered.\n\nThat night Solomon lay near the ship, and as he slept he dreamed. There\ncame from heaven, as it seemed to him, a great company of angels, who\nalighted in the ship, and took water that was brought by an angel in a\nvessel of silver, and sprinkled it everywhere. Then the angel came to\nthe sword and drew letters on the hilt, and on the ship's bow he wrote,\n\"You who shall enter this ship take heed of your belief,\" and further as\nthe knights had read. When Solomon had read these words he drew back,\nand dared not enter, and there soon arose a wind which drove the ship\nfar to sea, so that it was quickly lost to sight. Then a low voice said,\n\"Solomon, the last knight of thy lineage shall rest in this bed.\" With\nthis Solomon waked, and lo! the ship was gone.\n\nThis was the story that the fair damsel, Percivale's sister, told to the\nknights, as they stood curiously surveying the bed and the spindles.\nThen one of them lifted a cloth that lay on the deck, and under it found\na purse, in which was a written paper, telling the same strange story\nthey had just heard.\n\n\"The sword is here,\" said Galahad; \"but where shall be found the maiden\nwho is to make the new girdle?\"\n\n\"You need not seek far,\" said Percivale's sister. \"By God's leave, I\nhave been chosen to make that girdle, and have it here.\"\n\nThen she opened a box which she had brought with her, and took from it a\ngirdle that was richly wrought with golden threads and studded with\nprecious stones, while its buckle was of polished gold.\n\n\"Lo, lords and knights,\" she said, \"here is the destined girdle. The\ngreater part of it was made of my hair, which I loved dearly when I was\na woman of the world. When I knew that I was set aside for this high\npurpose, I cut off my hair and wrought this girdle in God's name.\"\n\n\"Well have you done!\" cried Bors. \"Without you we would have learned\nnothing of this high emprise.\"\n\nThen the noble maiden removed the mean girdle from the sword, and put\nupon it the rich one she had brought, which became it wonderfully.\n\n\"By what name shall we call this sword?\" they now asked her.\n\n\"Its name is,\" she answered, \"the sword with the strange girdle; and\nthat of the sheath is, mover of blood. But no man with blood in him\nshall ever see the part of the sheath that was made of the tree of\nlife.\"\n\nThen she took the sword and girded it about Galahad, fastening the\ngolden buckle about his waist.\n\n\"Now reck I not though I die,\" she said, \"for I hold that I am one of\nthe world's blessed maidens, since it has been given to me to arm the\nworthiest knight in the world.\"\n\nAfter this they left the magic ship at her bidding, and entered the one\nin which they had come. And immediately there rose a great wind which\nblew their vessel from between the rocks, and carried it afar over the\nsea.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nHOW LANCELOT SAW THE SANGREAL.\n\n\nThe ship that bore the three knights and the maiden came ashore at\nlength near a castle in Scotland, where they landed. From here they\njourneyed far, while many were their adventures, all of which tried\ntheir virtue and belonged to the quest of the Sangreal. In them all the\nsword with the strange girdle proved of such marvellous worth that no\nmen, were they a hundred in number, could stand before it.\n\nFinally they came to a castle which had the strange custom that every\nmaiden who passed that way should yield a dish full of blood. When they\nasked the reason of this dreadful custom, they were told,--\n\n\"There is in this castle a lady to whom the domain belongs, and who has\nlain for years sick of a malady which no leech can cure. And a wise man\nhas said that she can only be cured if she have a dish full of blood\nfrom a pure virgin and a king's daughter, with which to anoint her.\"\n\n\"Fair knights,\" said Percivale's sister, \"I alone can aid the sick lady,\nwho must die otherwise.\"\n\n\"If you bleed as they demand, you may die,\" said Galahad. \"Is not your\nlife worth more than hers?\"\n\n\"This I answer,\" said she. \"If I yield not my blood there will be mortal\nwar between you and the knights of the castle to-morrow, and many men\nmust die that one woman may not bleed. If I die to heal the sick lady I\nshall gain renown and do God's will, and surely one harm is better than\nmany. That you will fight for me to the death, I know, but wherefore\nshould you?\"\n\nSay what they would, she held to her will, and the next morning bade the\npeople of the castle bring forth the sick lady. She lay in great pain\nand suffering, and bent her eyes pleadingly on the devoted maiden.\n\nThen Percivale's sister bared her arm, and bade them bleed her. This\nthey did till a silver dish was filled with her life blood. Then she\nblessed the lady, and said,--\n\n\"Madam, I have given my life for yours; for God's love, pray for me!\"\nand she fell in a swoon.\n\nGalahad and his fellows hastened to stanch the blood, but it was too\nlate, her life was ebbing fast.\n\n\"Fair brother Percivale,\" she said, \"death is upon me. But before I die\nI have this to tell you. It is written that I shall not be buried in\nthis country. When I am dead, seek you the sea-shore near by, and put my\nbody in a boat, and let it go where fortune bears it. But when you three\narrive at the city of Sarras, in Palestine, which you will in God's good\ntime, you shall find me arrived there before you. There bury me in\nconsecrated soil. This further I may say, that there the holy Grail\nshall be achieved, and there shall Galahad die and be buried in the same\nplace.\"\n\nAnd as they stood there weeping beside her a voice came to them,\nsaying,--\n\n\"Lords and comrades, to-morrow at sunrise you three must depart, each\ntaking his own way, and you shall not meet again till adventure bring\nyou to the maimed king.\"\n\nAfter that all was done as had been foreseen and desired. The maiden\ndied, and the same day the sick lady was healed, through the virtue of\nher blood. Then Percivale wrote a letter telling who she was and what\nthings she had done. This he put in her right hand, and laid her body in\na vessel that was covered with black silk. The wind now arose and drove\nit far from the land, while all stood watching it till it was out of\nsight.\n\nThen they returned towards the castle. But suddenly a tempest of wind,\nthunder, and rain broke from the sky, so furious that the very earth\nseemed to be torn up. And as they looked they saw the turrets of the\ncastle and part of its walls totter and fall, and in a moment come\ncrashing in ruin to the earth.\n\nThat night they slept in a chapel, and in the morning rode to the\ncastle, to see how it had fared in the storm. But when they reached it\nthey found it in ruins, while of all that had dwelt there not one was\nleft alive. All of them, man and woman alike, had fallen victims to the\nvengeance of God. And they heard a voice that said,--\n\n\"This vengeance is for the shedding of maidens' blood.\"\n\nBut at the end of the chapel was a church-yard in which were threescore\ntombs, over which it seemed no tempest had passed. And in these lay all\nthe maidens who had shed their blood and died martyrs for the sick\nlady's sake. On these were their names and lineage, and all were of\nroyal blood, and twelve of them kings' daughters.\n\nThe knights turned away, marvelling much at what they had seen and\nheard.\n\n\"Here we must part,\" said Galahad. \"Let us pray that we may soon meet\nagain.\"\n\nThen they kissed each other, and wept at the parting, and each rode his\nown way into the forest before them.\n\nBut we must now leave them and return to Lancelot, whom we left sorely\nrepentant of his sins. After he departed from the hermitage he rode\nthrough many lands and had divers adventures, and in the end came to the\nsea-shore, beside which he lay down and slept.\n\nIn his slumber, words came to his ear, saying, \"Lancelot, rise and take\nthine armor, and enter into the first ship that thou shalt find.\" On\nhearing these words he started up, and saw that all about him was\nstrangely clear, the skies giving out a light like that of midday. Then\nhe blessed himself, and took his arms, and advanced to the strand, where\nhe saw a ship without sails or oars. This he entered, as he had been\nbidden, and when he was within it his heart was filled with such joy as\nhe had never before known.\n\nNaught had he ever thought of or desired but what seemed come to him\nnow, and in his gladness he returned thanks fervently to the Lord.\n\n\"I know not what has happened to me,\" he said, \"but such joy as I feel I\nnever dreamed the human heart could hold.\"\n\nThen he lay down and slept on the ship's deck, and when he woke the\nnight had passed and it was broad day.\n\nAnd in the ship he found a bed, whereon lay a dead lady, with a letter\nin her right hand which Lancelot read. From this he learned that the\nfair corpse was that of Percivale's sister, together with many of the\nstrange things that had happened to her and the chosen knights.\n\nFor a month or more Lancelot abode in this ship, driven about the seas,\nand sustained by no food, but by the grace of the Holy Ghost, for he\nprayed fervently for God's aid night and morning.\n\nAt length came a night when the ship touched the shore. Here he landed,\nbeing somewhat weary of the deck. And as he stood on the strand he heard\na horse approach, and soon one rode by that seemed a knight.\n\nWhen he came to the ship he checked his horse and alighted. Then, taking\nthe saddle and bridle from the horse, he turned it free and entered the\nship. Lancelot, in surprise, drew near.\n\n\"Fair knight,\" he said, \"I know not who you are or why you come. But\nsince you seek passage on my ship you are welcome.\"\n\nThe other saluted him in turn, and asked,--\n\n\"What is your name? I pray you, tell me, for my heart warms strangely\ntowards you.\"\n\n\"My name is Lancelot du Lake.\"\n\n\"Then are we well met indeed. You are my father.\"\n\n\"Ah! then you are Galahad?\"\n\n\"Yes, truly,\" and as he spoke he took off his helm, and kneeled, and\nasked his blessing.\n\nJoyful indeed was that meeting, and gladly there father and son\ncommuned, telling each other all that had happened to them since they\nleft the court. When Galahad saw the dead maiden he knew her well, and\ntold his father the story of the sword, at which he marvelled greatly.\n\n\"Truly, Galahad,\" he said, \"I never heard of aught so strange, and can\nwell believe you were born for wondrous deeds.\"\n\nAfterwards for nearly half a year the father and son dwelt together\nwithin that ship, serving God day and night with prayer and praise. Now\nthey touched on peopled shores, and now on desert islands where only\nwild beasts abode, and perilous and strange adventures they met. But\nthese we shall not tell, since they had naught to do with the Sangreal.\n\nBut at length came a Monday morning when the ship touched shore at the\nedge of a forest, before a cross, where they saw a knight armed all in\nwhite, and leading a white horse. He saluted them courteously, and\nsaid,--\n\n\"Galahad, you have been long enough with your father. You must now leave\nthe ship, and take this horse, and ride whither destiny shall lead you\nin the quest of the Sangreal.\"\n\nHearing this command, Galahad kissed his father, and bade him farewell,\nsaying,--\n\n\"Dear father, I know not if we shall ever meet again.\"\n\n\"Then I bid you,\" said Lancelot, \"to pray to the great Father that He\nhold me in His service.\"\n\nThere came in answer a mysterious voice that spoke these words,--\n\n\"Think each to do well; for you shall never see each other till the\ndreadful day of doom.\"\n\nThis voice of destiny affected them greatly, and they bade each other a\ntearful farewell, Lancelot begging again the prayers of his son in his\nbehalf. Then Galahad mounted the white horse and rode into the forest,\nwhile a wind arose which blew the ship from shore, and for a month drove\nit up and down the seas.\n\nBut at length came a night when it touched shore on the rear side of a\nfair and stately castle. Brightly shone the moon, and Lancelot saw an\nopen postern in which stood on guard two great lions. As he looked he\nheard a voice.\n\n\"Lancelot,\" it said, \"leave this ship and enter the castle. There shalt\nthou see a part of that which thou desirest.\"\n\nLancelot at this armed himself and went to the gate, where the lions\nrose rampant against him. With an instinct of fear he drew his sword,\nbut at that instant appeared a dwarf, who struck him on the arm so\nsharply that the sword fell from his hand.\n\n\"Oh, man of evil hope and weak belief,\" came the mysterious voice,\n\"trust you more in your armor than in your Maker? Does He who brought\nyou here need a sword for your protection?\"\n\n\"Truly am I reproved,\" said Lancelot. \"Happy am I to be held the Lord's\nward and servant.\"\n\nHe took up his sword and put it in the sheath, then made a cross on his\nforehead, and advanced to the lions, which raged and showed their teeth\nas if ready to rend him in pieces. Yet with a bold step and tranquil\nmien he passed between them unhurt, and entered the castle.\n\nThrough it he went, room by room, passage by passage, for every door\nstood wide and no living being met him as he advanced. Finally he came\nto a chamber whose door was closed, and which yielded not to his hand\nwhen he sought to open it. He tried again with all his force, but the\ndoor resisted his strength.\n\nThen he listened, and heard a voice that sang more sweetly than he had\never heard. And the words seemed to him to be, \"Joy and honor be to the\nFather of Heaven!\"\n\nLancelot no longer sought to open the door, but kneeled before it,\nfeeling in his heart that the Sangreal was within that chamber.\n\n\"Sweet Father Jesus,\" he prayed, \"if ever I did aught in thy service, in\npity forgive me my sins, and show me something of that which I seek.\"\n\nAs he prayed the door opened without hands, and from the room came a\nlight brighter than if all the torches of the world had been there. He\nrose in joy to enter, but the voice spoke sternly in his ear,--\n\n\"Forbear, Lancelot, and seek not to enter here. If you enter, you shall\nrepent it dearly.\"\n\nThen he drew back hastily, and looked into the chamber, where he saw a\ntable of silver, on which was the holy vessel covered with red samite,\nwith angels about it, one of which held a burning candle of wax, and one\na cross. And before the holy vessel stood a priest, who seemed to be\nserving the mass. In front of the priest appeared to be three men, two\nof whom put the youngest between the priest's hands, who held him up\nhigh as if to show him. Yet so heavy seemed the figure that the priest\nappeared ready to fall with weakness, and with a sudden impulse Lancelot\nrushed into the room, crying, \"Fair Lord Jesus, hold it no sin that I\nhelp the good man, who seems in utmost need.\"\n\nBut as he rashly entered and came towards the table of silver, a breath\nthat seemed half fire smote him so hotly in the face that he fell\nheavily to the earth, and lay like one bereft of all his senses. Then\nmany hands seemed to take him up, and bear him without the door, where\nhe lay to all seeming dead.\n\nWhen morning dawned he was found there by the people of the castle, who\nmarvelled how he got there, and could not be sure if he were dead or\nalive. But they laid him in a bed, and watched him closely, for days\npassed without signs of life or death. At length, on the twenty-fifth\nday, he gave a deep sigh, and opened his eyes, and gazed in wonder on\nthe people about him.\n\n\"Why have you wakened me?\" he cried. \"Why left you me not to my blessed\nvisions?\"\n\n\"What have you seen?\" they asked, eagerly.\n\n\"Such marvels as no tongue can tell nor ear understand,\" he said. \"And\nmore had I seen but that my son was here before me. For God's love,\ngentlemen, tell me where I am.\"\n\n\"Sir, you are in the castle of Carbonek.\"\n\n\"I thank God of His great mercy for what I have seen,\" he said. \"Now\nmay I leave the quest of the Sangreal, for more of it shall I never see,\nand few men living shall see so much.\"\n\nThese words said, he arose and dressed in new clothing that they brought\nhim, and stood in his old strength and beauty before the people.\n\n\"Sir Lancelot!\" they cried, \"is it you?\"\n\n\"Truly so,\" he answered.\n\nThen word was brought to King Pellam, the maimed king, who now dwelt in\nthat castle, that the knight who had lain so long between death and life\nwas Lancelot. Glad was the king to hear this, and he bade them bring\nLancelot to him.\n\n\"Long has my daughter Elaine been dead,\" he said. \"But happy she lived\nin having been loved by you, and in the grace of her noble son Galahad.\"\n\n\"I was but cold to her,\" answered Lancelot, \"for she was a lovable lady.\nBut in truth I have been held from love and life's delights, for my fate\nhas not been my own to control.\"\n\nFor four days he abode at the castle, and then took his armor and horse,\nsaying that now his quest of the Sangreal was done, and duty bade him\nreturn to Camelot.\n\nBack through many realms he rode, and in time came to the abbey where\nGalahad had won the white shield. Here he spent the night, and the next\nday rode into Camelot, where he was received with untold joy by Arthur\nand the queen.\n\nFor of the Knights of the Round Table who had set out on that perilous\nquest more than half had perished, and small was the tale of that\ngallant fellowship that could now be mustered. So the coming of\nLancelot filled all hearts with joy.\n\nGreat was the marvel of the king when Lancelot told him of what he had\nseen and done, and of the adventures of Galahad, Percivale, and Bors.\n\n\"God send that they were all here again,\" said the king.\n\n\"That shall never be,\" said Lancelot. \"One of them shall come again, but\ntwo you shall never see.\"\n\n[Illustration: From the painting by George Frederick Watts.\n\nSIR GALAHAD'S QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL.]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nTHE DEEDS OF THE THREE CHOSEN KNIGHTS.\n\n\nAfter Galahad left the ship and his father Lancelot, he rode far and had\nmany adventures, righting many wrongs and achieving many marvels. Among\nthese he came to the abbey where was the ancient King Evelake, who had\nlaid blind three hundred years, as we have elsewhere told.\n\nThe old king knew well that his deliverance had come, and begged to be\nembraced by the pious youth. No sooner had he been clasped in his arms\nthan his sight returned, and his flesh grew whole and young.\n\n\"Now, sweet Saviour, my destiny is fulfilled; receive thou my soul,\" he\nprayed.\n\nAs he said these words the soul left his body, and the miracle of his\nfate was achieved.\n\nMany days after this Galahad met Percivale, and soon the two came upon\nBors, as he rode out of a great forest, that extended many days' journey\nthrough the land.\n\nAnd so they rode in glad companionship, with many a tale of marvel to\ntell, till in time they came to the castle of Carbonek, where they were\ngladly received, for those in the castle knew that the quest of the\nSangreal was now wellnigh achieved.\n\nWhen evening approached, and the table for supper was set, the\nmysterious voice that so often had guided these knights spoke again.\n\n\"They that are not worthy to sit at the table of Jesus Christ arise,\" it\nsaid; \"for now shall the worthiest be fed.\"\n\nThen all arose save Eliazar, the son of King Pellam, and a maid who was\nhis niece, and the three knights. But as they sat at supper nine other\nknights, in full armor, entered at the hall door, and took off their\nhelmets and armor, and said to Galahad,--\n\n\"Sir, we have come far and in haste to be with you at this table, where\nthe holy meat shall be served.\"\n\n\"If you are worthy, you are welcome,\" said Galahad. \"Whence come you?\"\n\nThree of them answered that they were from Gaul, three from Ireland, and\nthree from Denmark, and that they had come thither at the bidding of the\nstrange voice.\n\nSo they all sat at table. But ere they began to eat, four gentlewomen\nbore into the hall a bed, whereon lay a man sick, with a crown of gold\non his head. Setting him down, they went away.\n\n\"Galahad, holy knight, you are welcome,\" said he who lay in the bed,\nraising his head feebly. \"Long have I waited your coming, in pain and\nanguish, since Balin, the good knight, struck me the dolorous stroke. To\nyou I look for aid and release from my long suffering.\"\n\nThen spoke the voice again: \"There be those here who are not in the\nquest of the Sangreal; let them depart.\" And the son and niece of the\nking rose and left the room.\n\nThen there came suddenly four angels, and a man who bore a cross and\nwore the dress of a bishop, whom the angels placed in a chair before the\nsilver table of the Sangreal. In his forehead were letters which said,\n\"This is Joseph, the first bishop of Christendom.\"\n\nNext opened the chamber door, and angels entered, two bearing wax\ncandles, the third a towel, and the fourth a spear that bled, the blood\ndrops falling into a silver vessel which he held in his other hand. The\ncandles were set on the table, the towel spread upon the vessel, and the\nspear set upright on this.\n\nThe bishop then said mass, at which other strange signs were seen; for a\nfigure like a child, with a face that shone like flame, entered into the\nbread of the sacrament. Then the bishop kissed Galahad, and bade him\nkiss his fellows. This done, he said,--\n\n\"Servants of Jesus Christ, ye shall here be fed on such meats as never\nknights tasted;\" and with these words he vanished.\n\nBut as they knelt in prayer before the table, they saw come out of the\nholy vessel a man who bore all the signs of the passion of Jesus Christ.\nAnd he took up the vessel and bore it to Galahad and to the other\nknights, who kneeled to receive the sacrament; and so sweet was it that\ntheir hearts marvelled and were filled with joy.\n\n\"Now have you tasted of Christ's own food,\" he said, \"and seen what you\nhighly and holily desired. But more openly shall you see it in the city\nof Sarras, in the spiritual place. Therefore you must go hence, for this\nnight the holy vessel will leave this realm, and will never more be seen\nhere. To-morrow you three shall go to the sea, where a ship awaits you;\nand you must take with you the sword with the strange girdle.\"\n\n\"Shall not these good knights go also?\" asked Galahad.\n\n\"Not so. They have seen all that is fitting to them. As for you, two of\nyou shall die in my service, and the third shall return and tell what he\nhas seen.\"\n\nThen he gave them his blessing, and vanished from out their midst.\n\nWhen they had somewhat recovered from the weight of these marvels,\nGalahad went to the spear that lay on the table, and touched the blood\nwith his fingers, and with it anointed the wounds of the maimed king.\nAnd at this touch he started up whole and strong, thanking God fervently\nfor his healing.\n\nBut he went not into the world again, but to a monastery of white monks,\nwhere he became a man of holy renown.\n\nAt midnight came a voice to the nine knights, which said,--\n\n\"My sons, and not my chieftains; my friends, and not my warriors; go ye\nhence, and do well what comes to you, in my service.\"\n\n\"Lord,\" they replied, \"wilt thou vouchsafe also to call us thy sinners?\nThy servants we shall be henceforth.\"\n\nAnd they arose, armed, and departed, bidding a solemn adieu to the three\nknights. When morning dawned these three rose also, and rode till they\ncame to the sea. Here awaited them the ship wherein they had found the\nsword and the three magic spindles, and to their wonder and delight they\nbeheld in its midst the table of silver and the Sangreal, which was\ncovered with red samite.\n\nIt was a joyous company that sailed over the sea in that magical ship,\nand at the wish of his comrades Galahad slept in the bed where the sword\nhad lain, and Bors and Percivale on the deck beside him.\n\nAnd so they went by day and by night, and at length came to the city of\nSarras. Here, as they would have landed, they saw beside them, just come\nto shore, the ship that bore the corpse of Percivale's sister, and this\nas fair and as fresh as when first placed within it.\n\nThen they took up the silver table and bore it to the city, at whose\ngate sat an old and crooked cripple.\n\n\"Come hither, and help us carry this heavy thing,\" said Galahad.\n\n\"How shall I do that? I have not gone for ten years without crutches.\"\n\n\"No matter for that. Show your good will by trying.\"\n\nThen the cripple rose and took hold, and in that instant he was whole\nand strong, and helped them bear the table to the palace. This done,\nthey returned, and bore to the palace the corpse of Percivale's sister,\nwhich they placed in a rich tomb, suited to a king's daughter.\n\nMeanwhile the report had spread through the city that a cripple had been\nmade whole by three strange knights, and people flocked to see them.\n\nWhen the king of the city saw and heard all this, he came to the knights\nand asked them who they were, and what it was they had brought into his\nrealm.\n\nGalahad answered him, telling of the marvel of the Sangreal, and of\nGod's power and grace therein.\n\nBut the king, Estorause, a tyrant in will and a pagan in faith, heard\nthis with wrath and unbelief, and ordered the knights to be put in\nprison as spies and felons.\n\nFor a whole year they lay thus in prison, yet were always kept whole and\nin good spirits; for the holy Sangreal came to them in their dungeons,\nand filled their souls with joy. When the year ended, Estorause grew\nsick unto death, and in remorse sent for the imprisoned knights, whose\npardon and forgiveness he fervently begged. This they gave him, and he\nstraightway died.\n\nHis death threw the city into dismay, for he had left no successor to\nthe throne. But as the lords sat in council there came a voice that\nbade them choose the youngest of the three knights for their king. This\nmysterious behest was told to the citizens, and with one acclaim they\nhailed it as God's will, and demanded Galahad as their king.\n\nThereupon he became king of Sarras, though it was not his wish; but he\nfelt it to be God's command. And when he came to the throne he had\nconstructed a chest of gold and precious stones, in which was placed the\ntable of silver with the holy vessel, and before this the three knights\nkneeled and prayed daily with fervent zeal.\n\nAnd so time rolled on till came the day that was the anniversary of that\nin which Galahad had taken the crown. On this morning he rose betimes,\nand before the holy vessel he saw a man dressed like a bishop, while\nround about him was a great fellowship of angels.\n\n\"Come forth, thou servant of Jesus Christ, and thou shalt see what thou\nhast so much desired,\" said the bishop.\n\nThen Galahad began to tremble, his flesh quaking in the presence of\nthings spiritual. And he held his hands up towards heaven, saying,--\n\n\"Lord, I thank thee, for now my desire is fulfilled. And if it be thy\nwill that I should come to thee, I wish no longer to live.\"\n\n\"I am Joseph of Arimathea,\" said the strange presence, \"and am sent by\nthe Lord to bear thee fellowship. Thou resemblest me in two things; for\nthou hast seen the highest marvel of the Sangreal, and are pure of heart\nand of body. Now say farewell to thy comrades, for thy time is come to\ndepart.\"\n\nGalahad thereupon went to Percivale and Bors, and kissed them, and\ncommended them to God, saying to Bors,--\n\n\"Fair friend, who art destined to return to our native realm, salute for\nme my lord and father Lancelot, and bid him remember the evils of this\nunstable world, and bear in mind the duty he has been taught.\"\n\nThen he kneeled before the table and prayed fervently, and suddenly his\nsoul departed from his body, a multitude of angels bearing it visibly\nupward toward heaven, in full view of his late comrades. Also they saw\ncome from heaven a hand, with no body visible, and take up the holy\nvessel and the spear, and bear them to heaven. And from that moment no\nman ever saw on earth again the blessed Sangreal.\n\nAfterwards Galahad's body was buried with great honor, and with many\ntears from his two fellows and from the people whom he had governed.\nThen Percivale betook him to a hermitage, and entered upon a religious\nlife; while Bors stayed with him, but in secular clothing, for it was\nhis purpose to return to England.\n\nFor a year and two months Percivale lived thus the holy life of a\nhermit, and then he passed out of this world, and was buried by\nBors--who mourned him as deeply as ever man was mourned--beside his\nsister and Galahad. This pious office performed, Sir Bors, the last of\nthe three chosen knights, felt that his duty in that land was at an end,\nand thereupon took ship at the city of Sarras and sailed for the realm\nof England, where he in good season arrived. Here he took horse and\nrode in all haste to Camelot, where King Arthur and the court then were,\nand where he was received with the greatest joy and wonder, for so long\nhad it been since any man there had set eyes on him, that all believed\nhim to be dead.\n\nBut greater than their wonder was their admiration when the returned\nknight told the story of miracle and adventure which had befallen him\nand his two comrades, and the pious maid, Percivale's sister, and of the\nholy life and death of Galahad and Percivale. This marvellous narrative\nthe king had told again to skilled clerks, that they might put upon\nrecord the wonderful deeds of these good knights. And it was all written\ndown in great books, which were put in safe keeping at Salisbury.\n\nBors then gave to Lancelot the message which his son had sent him, and\nLancelot took him in his arms, saying, \"Gentle cousin, gladly do I\nwelcome you again. Never while we live shall we part, but shall ever be\ntrue friends and brothers while life may last to us.\"\n\nAnd thus came to an end the marvellous and unparalleled adventure of the\nHoly Grail.\n\n[Illustration: SALISBURY CATHEDRAL.]\n\n\n\n\n                                 BOOK X.\n\n                    THE LOVE OF LANCELOT AND GUENEVER.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE POISONING OF SIR PATRISE.\n\n\nAfter the quest of the Sangreal was ended, and all the knights who were\nleft alive had come again to Camelot, there was great joy in the court,\nwith feasts and merrymakings, that this fortunate remnant might find a\nglad welcome. Above all, King Arthur and Queen Guenever were full of joy\nin the return of Lancelot and Bors, both from the love they bore them\nand the special honor they had gained in the quest.\n\nBut, as is man's way, holy thoughts vanished with the holy task that\ngave them rise, the knights went back to their old fashions and\nfrailties, and in Lancelot's heart his earthly love for the queen soon\nrose again, and his love of heaven and holy thoughts grew dim as the\ndays went by. Alas that it should have been so! for such an unholy\npassion could but lead to harm. To fatal ills, indeed, it led, and to\nthe end of Arthur's reign and of the worshipful fellowship of the Table\nRound, as it is our sorrowful duty now to tell.\n\nAll this began in the scandal that was raised in the court by the close\ncompanionship between Lancelot and the queen. Whisper of this secret\ntalk at length came to that good knight's ears, and he withdrew from\nQueen Guenever as much as he could, giving himself to the society of\nother ladies of the court, with design to overcome the evil activity of\nslanderous tongues.\n\nThis withdrawal filled the queen with jealous anger, and she accused him\nbitterly of coldness in his love.\n\n\"Madam,\" said Lancelot, \"only that love for you clung desperately to my\nheart, and drove out heavenly thoughts, I should have gained as great\nhonor in the quest of the Sangreal as even my son Galahad. My love is\nstill yours, but I fear to show it, for there are those of the court who\nlove me not, such as Agravaine and Mordred, and these evil-thinking\nknights are spreading vile reports wherever they may. It is for this I\nmake show of delight in other ladies' society, to cheat the bitter\ntongue of slander.\"\n\nTo this the queen listened with heaving breast and burning cheek. But at\nthe end she burst into bitter tears and sobs, and wept so long that\nLancelot stood in dismay. When she could speak, she called him recreant\nand false, declared she should never love him more, and bade him leave\nthe court, and on pain of his head never come near her again.\n\nThis filled the faithful lover with the deepest grief and pain; yet\nthere was anger, too, for he felt that the queen had shut her ears to\nreason, and had let causeless jealousy blind her. So, without further\nwords, he turned and sought his room, prepared to leave the court. He\nsent for Hector, Bors, and Lionel, and told them what had happened, and\nthat he intended to leave England and return to his native land.\n\n\"If you take my advice you will do nothing so rash,\" said Bors. \"Know\nyou not that women are hasty to act, and quick to repent? This is not\nthe first time the queen has been angry with you; nor will her\nrepentance be a new experience.\"\n\n\"You speak truly,\" said Lancelot. \"I will ride, therefore, to the\nhermitage of Brasias, near Windsor, and wait there till I hear from you\nif my lady Guenever changes her mood. I pray you do your best to get me\nher love again.\"\n\n\"That needs no prayer. Well you know I will do my utmost in your\nbehalf.\"\n\nThen Lancelot departed in haste, none but Bors knowing whither he had\ngone. But the queen showed no sign of sorrow at his going, however\ndeeply she may have felt it in her heart. In countenance she remained\nserene and proud, as though the world went well with her, and her heart\nwas free from care.\n\nHer desire, indeed, to show that she took as much joy in the society of\nother knights as in that of Lancelot led to a woful and perilous event,\nwhich we have next to describe. For she gave a private dinner, to which\nshe invited Gawaine and his brethren and other knights, to the number of\ntwenty-four in all. A rich feast it was, with all manner of dainties and\nrare devices. Much was the joy and merriment of the feasting knights.\n\nAs it happened, Gawaine had a great love for fruits, especially apples\nand pears, which he ate daily at dinner and supper; and all who invited\nhim to dine took care to provide his favorite fruits. This the queen\nfailed not to do. But there was at the feast an enemy of Gawaine's,\nnamed Pinel le Savage, who was a cousin of Lamorak de Galis, and had\nlong hated Gawaine for the murder of that noble knight.\n\nTo obtain revenge on him, Pinel poisoned some of the apples, feeling\nsure that only Gawaine would eat them. But by unlucky chance a knight\nnamed Patrise, cousin to Mador de la Porte, eat one of the poisoned\napples. So deadly was the venom that in a moment he was in agony, and\nvery soon it so filled his veins that he fell dead from his seat.\n\nThen was terror and wrath, as the knights sprang in haste and turmoil\nfrom their seats. For they saw that Patrise had been poisoned, and\nsuspicion naturally fell upon the queen, the giver of the feast.\n\n\"My lady, the queen,\" cried Gawaine in anger, \"what thing is this we\nsee? This fate, I deem, was meant for me, since the fruit was provided\nfor my taste. Madam, what shall I think? Has this good knight taken on\nhimself the death that was intended to be mine?\"\n\nThe queen made no answer, being so confused and terrified that she knew\nnot what to say.\n\n\"This affair shall not end here,\" cried Mador de la Porte in great\nwrath. \"Here lies a noble knight of my near kindred, slain by poison and\ntreason. For this I shall have revenge to the utterance. Queen Guenever,\nI hold you guilty of the murder of my cousin, Sir Patrise. I demand from\nthe laws of the realm and the justice of our lord the king redress for\nthis deed. A knight like this shall not fall unrevenged, while I can\nwield spear or hold sword.\"\n\nThe queen, at this hot accusation, looked appealingly from face to face;\nbut all stood grave and silent, for greatly they suspected her of the\ncrime. Then, seeing that she had not a friend in the room, she burst\ninto a passion of tears, and at length fell to the floor in a swoon.\n\nThe story of this sad business soon spread through the court, and\nquickly came to the ears of the king, who hastened to the banqueting\nhall full of trouble at what he had heard. When Mador saw him, he again\nbitterly accused the queen of treason,--as murder of all kinds was then\ncalled.\n\n\"This is a serious affair,\" said the king, gravely. \"I, as a rightful\njudge, cannot take the matter into my own hands, or I would do battle in\nthis cause myself, for I know well that my wife is wrongly accused. To\nburn a queen on a hasty accusation of crime is no light matter, though\nyou may deem it so, Sir Mador; and if you demand the combat, fear not\nbut a knight will be found to meet you in the lists.\"\n\n\"My gracious lord,\" said Mador, \"you must hold me excused, for though\nyou are our king, you are a knight also, and held by knightly rules.\nTherefore, be not displeased with me, for all the knights here suspect\nthe queen of this crime. What say you, my lords?\"\n\n\"The dinner was made by the queen,\" they answered. \"She or her servants\nmust be held guilty of the crime.\"\n\n\"I gave this dinner with a good will, and with no thought of evil,\" said\nthe queen, sadly. \"May God help me as an innocent woman, and visit this\nmurder on the base head of him who committed it. My king and husband, to\nGod I appeal for right and justice.\"\n\n\"And justice I demand,\" said Mador, \"and require the king to name a day\nin which this wrong can be righted.\"\n\n\"Be it so, then,\" said the king. \"Fifteen days hence be thou ready armed\non horseback in the meadow beside Winchester. If there be a knight there\nto meet you, then God speed the right. If none meet you, then my queen\nmust suffer the penalty of the law.\"\n\nWhen Arthur and the queen had departed, he asked her how this case\nbefell.\n\n\"God help me if I know,\" she answered.\n\n\"Where is Lancelot?\" asked the king. \"If he were here, he would do\nbattle for you.\"\n\n\"I know not,\" she replied. \"His kinsmen say he has left the land.\"\n\n\"How cometh it,\" said the king, \"that you cannot keep Lancelot by your\nside? If he were here your case would be won. Sir Bors will do battle in\nhis place, I am sure. Go seek him and demand his aid.\"\n\nThis the queen did, begging Bors to act as her champion; but he, as one\nof the knights who had been at the dinner, demurred, and accused her of\nhaving driven Lancelot from the country by her scorn and jealousy.\n\nThen she knelt and begged his aid, and the king, coming in, also\nrequested his assistance, for he was now sure the queen had been\nunjustly defamed.\n\n\"My lord,\" answered Bors, \"it is a great thing you require of me, for if\nI grant your request I will affront many of my Round Table comrades. Yet\nfor your and Lancelot's sake I will be the queen's champion on the day\nappointed, unless it may happen that a better knight than I come to do\nbattle for her.\"\n\n\"Will you promise me this, on your faith?\" asked the king.\n\n\"I shall not fail you,\" said Bors. \"If a better knight than I come, the\nbattle shall be his. If not, I will do what I can.\"\n\nThis promise gladdened the king and queen, who thanked Bors heartily,\nand were filled with hope, for they trusted greatly in this good\nknight's prowess and skill.\n\nBors, however, had other thoughts than they dreamed of, and left the\ncourt secretly, riding to the hermitage of Brasias, where he found\nLancelot and told him of what had occurred.\n\n\"This happens well,\" said Lancelot. \"The queen shall not suffer. Do you\nmake ready for the battle, but tarry and delay, if I am not there, as\nmuch as you may, till I arrive. Mador is a hot knight, and will be hasty\nto battle. Bid him cool his haste.\"\n\n\"Leave that to me,\" said Bors. \"Doubt not that it will go as you wish.\"\n\nMeanwhile the news spread throughout the court that Bors had taken on\nhimself the queen's championship. This displeased the most of the\nknights, for suspicion of the queen was general. On his return many of\nhis fellows accused him hotly of taking on himself a wrongful quarrel.\n\n\"Shall we see the queen of our great lord King Arthur brought to shame?\"\nhe demanded. \"To whom in the world do we owe more?\"\n\n\"We love and honor our king as much as you do,\" they answered. \"But we\ncannot love a destroyer of knights, as Queen Guenever has proved\nherself.\"\n\n\"Fair sirs,\" said Bors, \"you speak hastily, methinks. At all times, so\nfar as I know, she has been a maintainer, not a destroyer, of knights,\nand has been free with gifts and open-handed in bounty to all of\nknightly fame. This you cannot gainsay, nor will I suffer the wife of\nour noble king to be shamefully slain. She is not guilty of Sir\nPatrise's death, for she never bore him ill will, nor any other at that\ndinner. It was for good will she invited us there, and I doubt not her\ninnocence will be proved; for howsoever the game goeth, take my word for\nit, some other than she is guilty of that murder.\"\n\nThis some began to believe, convinced by his words, but others still\nheld their displeasure, believing the queen guilty.\n\nWhen at length the day that had been fixed for the battle came, there\nwas a great gathering of knights and people in the meadow beside\nWinchester, where the combat was to take place. But many shuddered when\nthey saw another thing, for an iron stake was erected, and fagots heaped\nround it, for the burning of the queen should Mador win the fight.\n\nSuch, indeed, was the custom of those days. Neither for favor, for love,\nnor for kindred could any but righteous judgment be given, as well upon\na king as upon a knight, upon a queen as upon a poor lady, and death at\nthe stake was the penalty for those convicted of murder.\n\nNow there rode into the lists Sir Mador de la Porte, and took oath\nbefore the king that he held the queen to be guilty of the death of Sir\nPatrise, and would prove it with his body against any one who should say\nto the contrary.\n\nSir Bors followed, and made oath as the queen's champion that he held\nher guiltless, and would prove it with his body, unless a better knight\ncame to take the battle on him.\n\n\"Make ready then,\" said Mador, \"and we shall prove which is in the\nright, you or I.\"\n\n\"You are a good knight, Sir Mador,\" said Bors, \"but I trust that God\nwill give this battle to justice, not to prowess.\"\n\nHe continued to talk and to make delay till Mador called out\nimpatiently,--\n\n\"It seems to me that we waste time and weather. Either come and do\nbattle at once, or else say nay.\"\n\n\"I am not much given to say nay,\" answered Bors. \"Take your horse and\nmake ready. I shall not tarry long, I promise you.\"\n\nThen each departed to his tent, and in a little while Mador came into\nthe field with his shield on his shoulder and his spear in his hand. But\nhe waited in vain for Bors.\n\n\"Where is your champion?\" cried Mador to the king. \"Bid him come forth\nif he dare!\"\n\nWhen this was told to Bors he was ashamed to delay longer, and mounted\nhis horse and rode to his appointed place. But as he did so he saw a\nknight, mounted on a white horse, and bearing a shield of strange\ndevice, emerge from a neighboring wood, and come up at all speed. He\ncontinued his course till he came to Sir Bors.\n\n\"Be not displeased, fair knight,\" he said, \"if I claim this battle. I\nhave ridden far this day to have it, as I promised you when we spoke\nlast. And for what you have done I thank you.\"\n\nThen Bors rode to the king and told him that a knight had come who would\ndo battle for the queen and relieve him from the championship.\n\n\"What knight is this?\" asked the king.\n\n\"All I may say is that he covenanted to be here to-day. He has kept his\nword, and I am discharged.\"\n\n\"How is this?\" demanded Arthur. \"Sir knight, do you truly desire to do\nbattle for the queen?\"\n\n\"For that, and that alone, came I hither,\" answered the knight. \"And I\nbeg that there be no delay, for when this battle is ended I must depart\nin haste on other duties. I hold it a dishonor to all those knights of\nthe Round Table that they can stand and see so noble a lady and\ncourteous a queen as Queen Guenever rebuked and shamed among them all.\nTherefore I stand as her champion.\"\n\nThen all marvelled what knight this could be, for none suspected him.\nBut Mador cried impatiently to the king,--\n\n\"We lose time here. If this knight, whoever he be, will have ado with\nme, it is time to end words and begin deeds.\"\n\n\"You are hot, Sir Mador. Take care that your valor be not cooled,\" said\nthe other.\n\nThey now moved to their appointed stations, and there couched their\nspears and rode together with all the speed of their chargers. Mador's\nspear broke, but the spear of his opponent held, and bore him and his\nhorse backward to the earth.\n\nBut he sprang lightly from the saddle, and drew his sword, challenging\nthe victor to do battle with him on foot. This the other knight did,\nspringing quickly to the ground, and drawing his sword. Then they came\neagerly to the combat, and for the space of near an hour fought with the\nfury of wild beasts, for Mador was a strong knight, proved in many\nbattles.\n\nBut at last the strange champion struck his opponent a blow that brought\nhim to the earth. He stepped near him to hurl him flat, but at that\ninstant Mador suddenly rose. As he did so he struck upward with his\nsword, and ran the other through the thick of the thigh, so that the\nblood flowed freely.\n\nWhen he felt himself wounded he stepped back in a rage, and grasping his\nsword struck Mador a two-handed blow that hurled him flat to the earth.\nThen he sprang upon him to pull off his helm.\n\n\"I yield me!\" cried Mador. \"Spare my life, and I release the queen.\"\n\n\"I shall not grant your life,\" said the other, \"only on condition that\nyou freely withdraw this accusation from the queen, and that no charge\nagainst her be made on Sir Patrise's tomb.\"\n\n\"All this shall be done. I have lost, and adjudge her innocent.\"\n\nThe knights-parters of the lists now took up Sir Mador and bore him to\nhis tent. The other knight went to the foot of King Arthur's seat. By\nthat time the queen had come thither also, and was heartily kissed by\nher overjoyed lord. Then king and queen alike thanked the victor knight,\nand prayed him to take off his helmet, and drink some wine for\nrefreshment. This he did, and on the instant a loud shout went up from\nall present, for they recognized the noble face of Lancelot du Lake.\n\n\"Sir Lancelot!\" cried the king. \"Never were you more heartily welcome.\nDeep thanks I and Queen Guenever owe you for your noble labor this day\nin our behalf.\"\n\n\"My lord Arthur,\" said Lancelot, \"I would shame myself should I ever\nfail to do battle for you both. It was you who gave me the high honor of\nknighthood. And on the day you made me knight I lost my sword through\nhaste, and the lady your queen found it and gave it me when I had need\nof it, and so saved me from disgrace among the knights. On that day I\npromised her to be ever her knight in right or wrong.\"\n\n\"Your goodness merits reward,\" said the king, \"and therein I shall not\nfail you.\"\n\nBut as the queen gazed on Lancelot, tears came to her eyes, and she wept\nso tenderly that she almost sank to the ground from sorrow and remorse\nat her unkindness to him who had done her such noble service.\n\nNow the knights of his blood came around Lancelot in the greatest joy,\nand all the Knights of the Round Table after them, glad to welcome him.\n\nAnd in the days that followed Lancelot was cured of his wound, and Mador\nput under the care of skilful leeches, while great joy and gladness\nreigned in the court for the happy issue of that combat which had\npromised so fatal an ending.\n\nAbout this time it befell that Nimue, the damsel of the lake, came to\nthe court, she who knew so many things by her power of enchantment, and\nhad such great love for Arthur and his knights. When the story of the\ndeath of Sir Patrise and the peril of the queen was told her, she\nanswered openly that the queen had been falsely accused, and that the\nreal murderer was Sir Pinel, who had poisoned the apples to destroy\nGawaine, in revenge for the murder of Lamorak. This story was confirmed\nwhen Pinel fled hastily from the court, for then all saw clearly that\nGuenever was innocent of the crime.\n\nThe slain knight was buried in the church of Westminster, and on his\ntomb was written,--\n\n\"Here lieth Sir Patrise of Ireland, slain by Sir Pinel le Savage,\nthrough poisoned apples intended for Sir Gawaine.\" And to this was added\nthe story of how Guenever the queen had been charged with that crime,\nand had been cleared in the combat by Sir Lancelot du Lake, her\nchampion.\n\nAll this was written on the tomb, to clear the queen's good fame. And\ndaily and long Sir Mador sued the queen to have her good grace again.\nAt length, by means of Lancelot, he was forgiven, and entered again into\nthe grace of king and queen. Thus once more peace and good-will were\nrestored to Camelot.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE LILY MAID OF ASTOLAT.\n\n\nIt came to pass that, within fifteen days of the Feast of the\nAssumption, King Arthur announced that a great tournament would be held\non that day at Camelot, where he and the king of Scots would hold the\nlists against all who should come. This tidings went far, and there came\nto Camelot many noble knights, among them the king of North Wales, King\nAnguish of Ireland, the king with the hundred knights, Sir Galahalt the\nhigh prince, and other kings, dukes, and earls.\n\nBut when Arthur was ready to ride from London, where he then was, to\nCamelot, the queen begged to be excused from going with him, saying that\nshe was not well. Lancelot, too, would not go, on the plea that he was\nnot well of the wound which Sir Mador had given him. So the king set out\nin grief and anger, for the absence of his wife and Lancelot tried him\nsorely. On his way to Camelot he lodged in a town named Astolat, which\nis now known as Gilford, and here he remained for several days.\n\nBut hardly had he departed before the queen sought Lancelot, and blamed\nhim severely for not going with the king, saying that he thus exposed\nher to slander.\n\n\"Madam, your wisdom comes somewhat late. Why gave you not this advice\nsooner?\" said Lancelot. \"I will go, since you command it; but I warn you\nthat at the jousts I will fight against the king and his party.\"\n\n\"Fight as you will, but go,\" said Guenever. \"If you take my counsel,\nhowever, you will keep with your king and your kindred.\"\n\n\"Be not displeased with me, madam,\" said Lancelot. \"I will do as God\nwills, and that, I fear, will be to fight against the king's party.\"\n\nSo the knight took horse and rode to Astolat, and here in the evening he\nobtained quarters in the mansion of an old baron, named Sir Bernard of\nAstolat. It happened that this mansion was near the quarters of the\nking, who, as in the dusk he walked in the castle garden, saw Lancelot\ndraw near to Sir Bernard's door, and recognized him.\n\n\"Aha!\" said the king, \"is that the game? That gives me comfort. I shall\nhave one knight in the lists who will do his duty nobly.\"\n\n\"Who is that?\" asked those with him.\n\n\"Ask me not now,\" said the king, smiling. \"You may learn later.\"\n\nMeanwhile Lancelot was hospitably received by the old baron, though the\nlatter knew not his guest.\n\n\"Dear sir,\" said Lancelot to his host, \"I thank you for your kindness,\nand I shall owe you deeper thanks if you will lend me a shield. Mine is\ntoo well known, and I wish to fight in disguise.\"\n\n\"That shall I willingly,\" answered his host. \"I have two sons who were\nlately knighted, and the elder, Sir Tirre, has been hurt. His shield you\nshall have, for it is yet unknown in list or field. As for my younger\nson, Sir Lavaine, he is a strong and likely youth, whom I beg you will\ntake with you. I feel that you must be a champion of renown, and hope\nyou will tell me your name.\"\n\n\"Not at present, if you will excuse me,\" said Lancelot. \"If I speed well\nat the tournament I will return and tell you. But I shall be glad to\nhave Sir Lavaine with me, and to use his brother's shield.\"\n\n\"You are welcome to both,\" said Sir Bernard.\n\nThis old baron had a daughter of great beauty, and in the freshness of\nyouth, who was known in that region as the Fair Maid of Astolat, by name\nElaine le Blank. And when she saw Lancelot her whole heart went out to\nhim in love,--a love of that ardent nature that never dies while she who\nwears it lives.\n\nLancelot, too, was strongly attracted by her fresh young face, of\nlily-like charm; but he had no love to give. Yet he spoke in tender\nkindness to the maiden, and so emboldened her that she begged him to\nwear her token at the tournament.\n\n\"You ask more than I have ever yet granted to lady or damsel,\" said\nLancelot. \"If I yield to your wish I shall do more for your love than\nany woman born can claim.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"YOU ARE WELCOME, BOTH!\" SAID SIR BERNARD.]\n\nShe besought him now with still more earnestness, and it came to his\nmind that if he wished to go to the lists disguised he could take no\nbetter method, for no one would recognise Lancelot under a damsel's\ntoken.\n\n\"Show me what you would have me wear, fair maiden,\" he said.\n\n\"It is a red sleeve of mine,\" she answered, \"a sleeve of scarlet,\nembroidered with great pearls,\" and she brought it to him.\n\n\"I have never done this for damsel before,\" said Lancelot. \"In return I\nwill leave my shield in your keeping. Pray keep it safe till we meet\nagain.\"\n\nThen the evening was spent in merry cheer; but that night Elaine slept\nbut lightly, for her slumber was full of dreams of Lancelot, and her\nheart burned with fears that he might come to harm in the lists.\n\nOn the next day King Arthur and his knights set out for Camelot. Soon\nafterwards Lancelot and Lavaine took leave of Sir Bernard and his fair\ndaughter, while the eyes of Elaine followed the noble form of Lancelot\nfondly and far, as he rode. Both the knights had white shields, and\nLancelot bore with him Elaine's red embroidered sleeve. When they\nreached Camelot they took lodging privately with a rich burgess of the\ntown, that none might know them.\n\nWhen came Assumption Day, the lists were set, the trumpets blew to the\nfield, the two parties of knights gathered promptly to the fray, and\nfierce was the encounter between them. In the end, after hard fighting,\nthe party of Arthur bore back their opponents, who were headed by the\nkings of Northumberland and North Wales.\n\nAll this was seen by Lancelot and Lavaine, who sat their horses at a\ndistance looking on.\n\n\"Come,\" said Lancelot, \"let us help these good fellows, who seem to be\noverpowered.\"\n\n\"Lead on,\" said Lavaine. \"I shall follow and do my best.\"\n\nThen Lancelot, with the red sleeve fastened upon his helmet, rode into\nthe thickest of the press, and smote down such numbers of knights with\nspear and sword that the party of the Round Table were forced to give\nback, and their opponents came on with fresh heart. And close upon\nLancelot's track Lavaine smote down several good knights.\n\n\"Who can this wonderful fighter be?\" asked Gawaine of the king.\n\n\"I know him well,\" said Arthur, \"but will not name him since he is in\ndisguise.\"\n\n\"I could believe it was Lancelot,\" said Gawaine, \"but for that red\nsleeve. No man ever saw Lancelot wear a woman's token.\"\n\n\"Let him be,\" said Arthur. \"He will be better known before he is done.\"\n\nThen nine knights of Lancelot's kindred, angry at seeing this one\nchampion beat down all before him, joined together and pressed hotly\ninto the din, smiting down all that opposed them. Three of them--Bors,\nHector, and Lionel--spurred together on Lancelot, all striking him at\nonce with their spears. So great was their force that Lancelot's horse\nwas hurled to the ground, and his shield pierced by Bors, whose spear\nwounded him in the side, breaking and leaving its head deep in the\nflesh.\n\nSeeing this misfortune, Lavaine spurred fiercely on the king of the\nScots, thrust him from his horse, and, in despite of them all, brought\nthat horse to Lancelot, and helped him to mount. Then, though so sorely\nhurt, Lancelot drew his sword, and, aided by Lavaine, did such deeds of\narms as he had never surpassed in his hours of greatest strength. As the\nchronicles say, that day he unhorsed more than thirty knights; and\nLavaine followed his example well, for he smote down ten Knights of the\nRound Table in this his first tournament. So does a noble example stir\nyoung hearts.\n\n\"I would give much to know who this valiant knight can be,\" said\nGawaine.\n\n\"He will be known before he departs,\" answered Arthur. \"Trust me for\nthat.\"\n\nThen the king blew to lodging, and the prize was given by the heralds to\nthe knight with the white shield who bore the red sleeve. Around\nLancelot gathered the leaders on his side, and thanked him warmly for\ngaining them the victory.\n\n\"If I have deserved thanks I have sorely paid for them,\" said Lancelot,\n\"for I doubt if I escape with my life. Dear sirs, permit me to depart,\nfor just now I would rather have repose than be lord of all the world.\"\n\nThen he broke from them and galloped away, though his wound forced\npiteous groans from his steadfast heart. When out of sight of them all\nhe checked his horse, and begged Lavaine to help him dismount and to\ndraw the spear-head from his side.\n\n\"My lord,\" said Lavaine, \"I would fain help you; yet I fear that to draw\nthe spear will be your death.\"\n\n\"It will be my death if it remains,\" said Lancelot. \"I charge you to\ndraw it.\"\n\nThis Lavaine did, the pain being so deadly that Lancelot shrieked and\nfell into a death-like swoon, while a full pint of blood gushed from the\nwound. Lavaine stopped the bleeding as well as he could, and with great\ntrouble got the wounded knight to a neighboring hermitage, that stood in\nfront of a great cliff, with a clear stream running by its foot.\n\nHere Lavaine beat on the door with the butt of his spear, and cried\nloudly,--\n\n\"Open, for Jesus' sake! Open, for a noble knight lies bleeding to death\nat your gate!\"\n\nThis loud appeal quickly brought out the hermit, who was named Baldwin\nof Brittany, and had once been a Round Table knight. He gazed with pity\nand alarm on the pale face and bleeding form before him.\n\n\"I should know this knight,\" he said. \"Who is he?\"\n\n\"Fair sir,\" said Lancelot, feebly, \"I am a stranger and a knight-errant,\nwho have sought renown through many realms, and have come here to my\ndeadly peril.\"\n\nAs he spoke the hermit recognized him, by a wound on his pallid cheek.\n\n\"Ah, my lord Lancelot,\" he said, \"you cannot deceive me thus.\"\n\n\"Then, if you know me, help me for heaven's sake. Relieve me from this\npain, whether it be by life or death.\"\n\n\"I shall do my best,\" said the hermit. \"Fear not that you will die.\"\n\nThen he had him borne into the hermitage, and laid in bed, his armor\nbeing removed. This done, the hermit stanched the bleeding, anointed the\nwound with healing ointments, and gave Lancelot a refreshing and healing\ndraught.\n\nMeanwhile King Arthur invited the knights of both parties to a great\nevening feast, and there asked the king of North Wales to bring forward\nthe knight of the red sleeve, that he might receive the prize he had\nwon.\n\n\"That I cannot do,\" was the answer. \"He was badly, if not fatally,\nwounded, and left us so hastily that we know not whither he went.\"\n\n\"That is the worst news I have heard these seven years,\" said Arthur. \"I\nwould rather lose my throne than have that noble knight slain.\"\n\n\"Do you know him?\" they all asked.\n\n\"I have a shrewd suspicion who he is; and I pray God for good tidings of\nhim.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" said Gawaine, \"I should be sorry enough to see harm come\nto one that can handle spear and sword like him. He cannot be far away,\nand if he is to be found I shall find him.\"\n\n\"Fortune aid you in the quest,\" said the king.\n\nThen Gawaine took a squire, and they rode in all directions for six or\nseven miles around Camelot, but could learn nothing of the missing\nknight. Two days afterwards Arthur and his fellowship set out on their\nreturn to London. On their way they passed through Astolat, and here it\nhappened that Gawaine lodged with Sir Bernard, Lancelot's former host.\n\nHe was well received, and the old baron and his fair daughter begged him\nearnestly for tidings of the tournament, being specially eager to know\nwho had done best there.\n\n\"Two knights bore all before them,\" said Gawaine. \"Both carried white\nshields, and one wore on his helmet a red sleeve, as some fair lady's\ntoken. Never saw I a man before do such mighty deeds, and his fellow\nseconded him nobly.\"\n\n\"Blessed be God that that knight did so well,\" broke out Elaine, \"for he\nis the first man I ever loved, and shall be the last.\"\n\n\"You know him then?\" said Gawaine. \"Pray tell me his name.\"\n\n\"That I know not, nor whence he came; but this I truly know, that I love\nhim, and that the token he wore was mine. This, and this only, I can\njustly affirm.\"\n\n\"This is a strange story,\" said Gawaine. \"What knowledge have you of\nhim? and how came you to know him?\"\n\nIn response, she told him how the knight had left his shield with her,\nand taken that of her brother, with what else she knew.\n\n\"I would thank you much for a sight of that shield,\" said Gawaine.\n\n\"I have it in my chamber, covered with a case, and will send for it,\"\nsaid Elaine.\n\nWhen the shield was brought Gawaine removed the case, and at sight he\nknew it to be Lancelot's shield.\n\n\"Ah, mercy!\" said Gawaine, \"the sight of this makes my heart heavy.\"\n\n\"Why so?\" she demanded.\n\n\"For good cause,\" he answered. \"Is the owner of this shield your love?\"\n\n\"Truly so,\" she replied. \"I love him dearly; would to God he loved me as\ndearly.\"\n\n\"Then must I say that you have given your love to the noblest and most\nrenowned knight in the world.\"\n\n\"So it seemed to me; for he carries a noble soul in his face.\"\n\n\"This I may say,\" said Gawaine. \"I have known this knight for more than\ntwenty years, and never knew him before to wear a woman's token at joust\nor tournament. You owe him thanks, indeed, that he wore yours. Yet I\ndread greatly that you will never see him again, and it is for this that\nmy heart is heavy.\"\n\n\"Why say you so?\" she cried, starting up with pallid face. \"Is he hurt?\nIs he slain?\"\n\n\"Not slain; but sadly hurt. This more it is my duty to tell you: he is\nthe noble knight, Sir Lancelot du Lake. I know him by his shield.\"\n\n\"Lancelot! Can this be so? And his hurt--who gave it? Is it really\nperilous?\"\n\n\"Had the knight who wounded him known him, he would have been grieved\nalmost to death. As for Sir Lancelot, I can tell you nothing more. On\nreceiving his hurt he left the lists with his comrade, and cannot be\nfound. He is somewhere concealed.\"\n\n\"Then shall I go seek him!\" cried Elaine. \"Give me leave to do so, dear\nfather, if you would not have me lose my mind. I shall never rest till\nI find him and my brother, and nurse him back to health.\"\n\n\"Go, daughter, if you will,\" said her father, \"for I am sick at heart to\nhear such tidings of that noble knight.\"\n\nIn the morning Gawaine rejoined King Arthur, and told him of what he had\nlearned.\n\n\"I knew already it was Lancelot,\" said the king; \"but never before knew\nI him to wear woman's token.\"\n\n\"By my faith, this lily maiden of Astolat loves him deeply,\" said\nGawaine. \"What it means I cannot say, but she has set out to seek him,\nand will break her heart if she fail to find him.\"\n\nAnd so they rode on to London, where Gawaine made known to the court\nthat it was Lancelot who wore the red sleeve and won the prize at the\ntournament.\n\nThis tidings made no small trouble in the court. Bors and his kinsmen\nwere heavy at heart when they learned that it was Lancelot whom they had\nso hotly assailed. And Queen Guenever was beside herself with anger on\nlearning that it was Lancelot who had worn the red sleeve at the\ntournament.\n\nMeanwhile Elaine journeyed to Camelot in search of the wounded knight,\nand as she sought far and near about the town, sick at heart, it chanced\nthat she espied her brother Lavaine, as he rode out to give his horse\nair. She called loudly to him, and when he came up asked him,--\n\n\"How does my lord, Sir Lancelot?\"\n\n\"Who told you, sister, that my lord's name was Lancelot?\"\n\nShe told him how she had learned this, and they rode together to the\nhermitage, where Lavaine brought her in to see the wounded knight.\n\nBut when she saw him lying there so sick and pale, and with a death-like\nhue upon his face, she stood gazing upon him with dilated eyes and\nwhitening face, and then suddenly fell to the floor in a deep swoon.\n\n\"I pray you, Lavaine, take her up and bring her to me,\" said Lancelot.\n\nWhen she was brought near him he kissed her pale face, and at the touch\nof his lips her cheeks flamed out with red, and life came back to her.\n\n\"Fair maiden,\" said Lancelot, \"it pains me to see you so deeply\nafflicted. Comfort yourself, I pray you. If you come here to my aid you\nare truly welcome; but let not this little hurt trouble you; I shall\nsoon be well of it.\"\n\nThen they fell into discourse, and Elaine told Lancelot how Gawaine had\nseen and known his shield. This gave him no small trouble, for he knew\nwell that the story of the red scarf would get to Queen Guenever's ears,\nand he feared its effect on her hasty and jealous temper. But Elaine\nnever left Lancelot, but watched him day and night, nursing him back to\nhealth.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nHOW ELAINE DIED FOR LOVE.\n\n\nWhen Sir Bors learned that his unlucky blow had brought Lancelot nearly\nto death's door, he became sore indeed at heart, and hastened to Camelot\nin search of his noble kinsman. Here he met Lavaine, who knew him and\nconducted him to the bedside of the wounded knight.\n\nWhen he saw the pale and haggard countenance of Lancelot, he fell into a\npassion of tears, and accused himself bitterly. But Lancelot consoled\nhim as well as he could, declaring that the fault was his own, and that\nhe would bear the blame. Then Bors told him of the anger of the queen,\nand of his earnest but vain endeavor to overcome it.\n\n\"I deserve it not,\" said Lancelot. \"I wore the sleeve only by way of\ndisguise. As for Gawaine, he would have shown more wisdom and friendship\nhad he been less free of speech.\"\n\n\"I told her all this,\" said Bors, \"but she was past listening to reason.\nIs this maiden, who is so busy about you, she whom they call the lily of\nAstolat?\"\n\n\"She it is,\" said Lancelot. \"I cannot by any means put her from me.\"\n\n\"Why should you?\" asked Bors. \"She is a beautiful and tender-hearted\ndamsel. Would to God, fair cousin, you could love her, for I see well,\nby her gentle and close care of you, that she loves you devoutedly.\"\n\n\"That I am sorry for,\" said Lancelot.\n\n\"She will not be the first that has loved you in vain,\" said Bors; \"the\nmore the pity.\"\n\nMany other things they talked of, and Lancelot found such comfort in the\npresence of Sir Bors that in a few days he showed great signs of\nimprovement. Then Bors told him of another tournament that King Arthur\nhad ordered, to be held at Camelot on All-hallowmas day, between his\nparty and that of the king of North Wales.\n\nThis filled Lancelot with an earnest desire to grow strong, and during\nthe following month, under the kind care of his cousin, and the gentle\nministrations of Elaine, he improved greatly in health. For Elaine\nwaited upon him with loving diligence night and day, and never was child\nor wife more gentle and heedful to father or husband than this fair maid\nof Astolat to the wounded knight.\n\nAt length came a day when Lancelot felt so much stronger, through the\nhealing influence of a bath of herbs which the hermit had gathered in\nthe woods, that he determined to try if he could wear his armor and sit\nin his saddle. He thereupon armed and had his horse brought out.\nMounting the mettled charger, in the high spirit of new health he\nspurred it to full speed.\n\nBut the courser's long rest in the stable had made it fresh and fierce,\nand on feeling the spurs it leaped forward so violently that Lancelot's\nwound burst open in the strain, and the blood gushed out again.\n\n\"Bors! Lavaine! help!\" he feebly cried. \"I am come to my end.\"\n\nAs he spoke he fell from his horse to the earth, and lay there like a\ncorpse.\n\nThe two knights hurried up, full of fearful concern, and when Elaine,\nwho had heard the pitiful call, came flying to the spot, she threw\nherself on the prostrate form, weeping like one beside herself with\ngrief, and kissing the insensible knight as if she hoped thus to recall\nhim to life.\n\n\"Traitors you are!\" she cried wildly to her brother and Sir Bors. \"Why\ndid you let him leave his bed? I hold you guilty of his death.\"\n\nAt this moment the hermit Baldwin appeared. When he saw Lancelot in that\nplight he grew angry at heart, though he checked the reproachful words\nthat rose to his lips.\n\n\"Let us have him in,\" he said, briefly.\n\nLancelot was thereupon carried to the hermitage, his armor removed, and\nthe bleeding stanched, but it was long before he could be brought out of\nhis death-like swoon.\n\n\"Why did you put your life thus in jeopardy?\" asked the hermit,\nreproachfully, when the knight was again in his senses.\n\n\"I was too eager to attend the tournament, now near at hand,\" he said.\n\n\"Ah, Sir Lancelot, you have more courage than wisdom, I fear. As for the\ntournament, let Sir Bors attend it and do what he may. By the time it is\nover and he returned, I hope that you may be well once more, if you will\nbut be governed by my advice.\"\n\nThis advice was taken and Bors went to the tournament, where he bore\nhimself so valorously that the prize was divided between him and\nGawaine. Gareth and Palamides also did noble deeds, but they departed\nsuddenly before the prize was declared, as if called away by some\nadventure.\n\nAll this Lancelot heard with great pleasure from Bors on his return, his\nonly regret being that he had not been able to take part in that\nknightly sport. But the remedies of the hermit and the care of Elaine\nhad meanwhile done him wonderful service, and he was soon able again to\nmount his horse and wear his armor in safety.\n\nA day, therefore, quickly came when the knight felt himself in condition\nfor a journey, and when he and his companions took the road to Astolat,\nescorting the fair Elaine back to her father's home. Here they were\ngladly received by the old baron Bernard, and his son Tirre, who had now\nrecovered.\n\nBut when the time approached which Lancelot had set for his departure,\nElaine grew pale and drooping. At length, with the boldness of speech of\nthat period, she came to him and said,--\n\n\"My lord Sir Lancelot, clear and courteous sir, will you then depart,\nand leave me alone with my love and sorrow? Have mercy on me, I pray\nyou, and suffer me not to die of grief.\"\n\n\"What would you have me do?\" asked Lancelot.\n\n\"I brought you back to life; give me your love in return; make me your\nwedded wife, and I will love you as never woman loved.\"\n\n\"That can I never do,\" said Lancelot, gravely. \"I shall never wed.\"\n\n\"Then shall I die for your love.\"\n\n\"Think not of death, Elaine. If I could marry woman it would be you,\nfor I could love you dearly were my heart free. For your gentleness and\nkindness thus only can I repay you. If you can set your heart upon some\nworthy knight who is free to wed you, I shall give to you and your heirs\na thousand pounds yearly, as some small payment of the debt I owe you.\"\n\n\"You speak idly and coldly, Sir Lancelot. Your money I will have none\nof; and as for wedding, I have but the choice to wed you or wed my\ndeath.\"\n\n\"You rend my heart, fair Elaine. Would that it could be as you wish.\nAlas! that can never be.\"\n\nAt this, with a cry of heart-pain, the distressed maiden fell swooning\nat his feet. Thence she was borne by women to her chamber, where she\nlay, lamenting like one whose heart is broken.\n\nSir Bernard now came to Lancelot, who was preparing to depart, and\nsaid,--\n\n\"Dear sir, it grieves me to find my daughter Elaine in such a\ndistressful state. I fear she may die for your sake.\"\n\n\"It grieves me as deeply,\" said Lancelot. \"But what can I do? That she\nloves me so deeply I am sorry to learn, for I have done nothing to\nencourage it, as your son can testify. I know that she is a true and\nnoble maiden, and will do all that I can for her as an honest knight;\nbut love her as she loves me I cannot, and to wed I am forbidden. Yet\nher distress wounds me sorely.\"\n\n\"Father,\" said Lavaine, \"I dare avow that she is as pure and good as my\nlord Sir Lancelot has said. In loving him she does but what I do, for\nsince I first saw him I could never depart from him; nor shall I leave\nhim so long as he will bear my company.\"\n\nThen Lancelot took his leave, and he and Lavaine rode together to\nCamelot, where Arthur and the whole court received the errant knight\nwith the utmost joy and warmest welcome. Queen Guenever alone failed to\ngreet him kindly, her jealous anger continuing so bitter that she would\nnot give him a word or a look, seek as he would.\n\nBut the joy and brightness at Camelot were replaced by darkness at\nAstolat, for the fair Elaine was in such sorrow day and night that she\nneither ate, drank, nor slept; and ever she sadly moaned and bewailed\nthe cruelty of Sir Lancelot.\n\nTen days of this brought her so near her end, that her old father, with\nsad heart, sent for the priest to give her the last sacraments. But even\nthen she made her plaints of Lancelot's coldness so mournfully, that the\nghostly father bade her cease such thoughts.\n\n\"Why should I?\" she cried. \"Am I not a woman, with a woman's heart and\nfeelings? While the breath is in my body I must lament my fate; for I\nhold it no offence to love, and take God to witness that I never have\nand never can love other than Lancelot du Lake. Since it is God's will\nthat I must die from unrequited love of so noble a knight, I pray for\nhis mercy and forgiveness of all my sins. Never did I offend deeply\nagainst God's laws; but it was not in my nature to withstand the fervent\nlove that is bringing me to my death.\"\n\nThen she sent for her father and brother, and prayed them to write a\nletter as she might dictate. This they did, writing down the mournful\nwords which she spoke.\n\n\"Now,\" she said, \"this more I command you to do. When I am dead, put\nthis letter in my right hand before my body grows cold. Then see that I\nbe richly dressed and laid in a fair bed, and take me in a chariot to\nthe river Thames. There lay my body in a barge, covered with black\nsamite, and with but one man to steer the barge down the river to\nCamelot.\"\n\nAll this they, weeping sadly, agreed to do, and soon afterwards the\nmaiden died, slain by her love. Her sad old father then had all done as\nshe had requested.\n\nMeanwhile, in Camelot the world moved merrily. But one morning, by\nfortune, as King Arthur and Queen Guenever stood talking at a window,\nthey espied a black barge drifting slowly down the river. Wondering much\nwhat it meant, the king called Sir Kay and two other knights, and sent\nthem to the river, bidding them to bring him speedy word of what the\nbarge contained.\n\nThis they did. On reaching the river-side they found that the barge had\nbeen turned inward, and lay beside the bank, and to their surprise they\nsaw in it a rich bed, on which lay the corpse of as fair a woman as they\nhad ever beheld. In the stern of the barge sat, with oar in hand, a poor\nman who seemed dumb, for no word would he speak.\n\n\"That corpse must I see,\" said the king, when word of this event was\nbrought him. \"Surely this betokens something strange.\"\n\nHe took the queen by the hand and went to the river-side with her. Here\nthe barge had been made fast, and they stepped from the shore to its\ndeck. There they saw the corpse of a beautiful maiden, dressed in costly\nattire, and lying in a bed which was richly covered with cloth of gold.\nAnd as she lay she seemed to smile.\n\nThe queen now espied a letter clasped closely in her right hand, and\nshowed it to the king.\n\n\"That will surely tell us who she is, and why she has come hither,\" he\nsaid.\n\nHe thereupon took the letter and returned with the queen to the palace.\nHere, surrounded by many knights, he broke the seal, and gave the\nepistle to a clerk to read. This was its purport,--\n\n\"Most noble knight, Sir Lancelot, now hath death made us two at debate\nfor your love. I was your lover, she whom men called the Fair Maid of\nAstolat; therefore unto all ladies I make my moan, and I beg you to pray\nfor my soul, and at the least to bury me, and offer my mass-penny. This\nis my last request. God is my witness that I die a pure maiden. Pray for\nmy soul, Sir Lancelot, as thou art peerless.\"\n\nWhen this pitiful letter had been read, all who heard it shed tears, for\nnever had they heard aught so moving. Then Lancelot was sent for and the\nletter read to him.\n\n\"A sorrowful thing is this,\" he said, in grievous tones. \"Then she is\ndead, the fair Elaine, and thus, with silent lips, makes her last\nprayer. Truly it wounds me to the heart. Yet, my lord Arthur, God knows\nI had no just share in the death of this maiden, as her brother here,\nSir Lavaine, can testify. She was fair and good, and I owed her much,\nbut she loved me beyond measure, and her love I could not return.\"\n\n\"You might have shown her,\" said the queen, reprovingly, \"some bounty\nand gentleness, and thus have preserved her life.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said Lancelot, \"naught would she have but my love, and my hand\nin marriage. I offered to endow her with a thousand pounds yearly, if\nshe should love and wed any other, but to this she would not listen. As\nfor me, I had no other comfort to give her, for love cannot be\nconstrained, but must rise of itself from the heart.\"\n\n\"Truly must it,\" said the king. \"Love is free in itself, and will not be\nbound, for if bonds be placed upon it, it looseth itself perforce. As\nfor this unhappy maiden, nothing is left for you but to obey her last\npitiful request.\"\n\n\"That shall I to the utmost of my power,\" said Lancelot.\n\nThen many knights and ladies went to behold the fair maiden, who had\ncome thither in such moving wise. And in the morning she was richly\ninterred, and with all due honor, at Lancelot's command; and he offered\nher mass-penny, as did all the knights who were there present.\n\nThen the poor dumb servitor returned again with the barge, rowing it\nslowly and sadly back to Astolat.\n\nAfterwards the queen sent for Lancelot, and begged his pardon humbly for\nher causeless anger.\n\n[Illustration: ELAINE.]\n\n\"This is not the first time,\" said Lancelot, \"that you have been\ndispleased with me without cause. What you will, I must bear, and keep\nmy sorrow within my heart; yet I would that your love were less tainted\nby hasty jealousy. As for forgiving you, what else can I do, my queen?\nLove cannot live without forgiveness.\"\n\nAfter these events the winter and spring passed on, with hunting and\nhawking, and jousts and tournaments, and the fate of the fair Elaine was\nwellnigh forgotten in the joy of the court. But her brother Lavaine\ngained great honor, and at a tournament that was given on Candlemas day\ndid so nobly that the king promised he should be made a Knight of the\nRound Table at the next feast of Pentecost.\n\nAnd at this tournament Lancelot again fought in disguise, wearing a\nsleeve of gold of the queen's, and did such deeds that the prize was\nadjudged to him. Thus a second time did he wear a woman's token in the\nlists.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE CHEVALIER OF THE CART.\n\n\nThe year passed on from Candlemas till after Easter, and then came the\nmonth of May, when every lusty heart begins to blossom and to bear\nfruit; for as herbs and trees flourish in May, so does the heart of a\nlover, since in this lusty month all lovers gain courage, calling to\ntheir minds old vows and deeds of gentleness, and much that was\nforgotten in the winter's chill.\n\nAs winter always defaces and erases green summer, so fares it with\nunstable love in man and woman. But as May flowers and flourishes in\nmany gardens, so flowers the lover's heart in the joy of her to whom he\nhas promised his faith. Yet nowadays men cannot love seven days without\ntheir love cooling; for where love warms in haste it cools as hastily;\nthus fareth it in our days,--soon hot, soon cold. The old love was not\nso. Men and women could love together seven years in truth and\nfaithfulness. Such was the way of love in King Arthur's days; but love\nnowadays I liken unto summer and winter; now hot, now cold, like the\nchanging seasons. Therefore all ye who are lovers call to your\nremembrance the month of May, like as did Queen Guenever, who while she\nlived was a true lover, and therefore she had a good end.\n\nSo it befell in the month of May that Queen Guenever called unto her\ncertain knights of the Round Table, inviting them to ride with her in\nthe early morn a-maying in the woods and fields beside Camelot.\n\n\"And see that you all be well horsed,\" she said, \"and clad in green,\neither in silk or cloth. I shall bring with me ten ladies, and every\nknight shall have a lady behind him, and bring with him a squire and two\nyeomen.\"\n\nAnd so, when morning came, the ten knights invited put on their gayest\nrobes of green, and rode with the queen and her ladies, a-maying in the\nwoods and fields, to their great joy and delight.\n\nYet this pleasure party led to sad results, as we have now to tell. For\nthere was a knight named Meliagrance, son of King Bagdemagus, who had a\ncastle, the gift of King Arthur, within seven miles of Camelot. This\nknight loved the queen, and had done so for many years, and it had long\nbeen in his heart to steal her away; but he had never been able to find\nher without many knights about her, and, chief of all, Sir Lancelot.\n\nWhen he heard of this Maying party, and that the queen would be attended\nby only ten knights, and these in green robes, he resolved to carry out\nhis base design, and therefore placed in ambush twenty men-at-arms and a\nhundred archers.\n\nSo it happened that while the queen and her knights were merrily\narraying one another in flowers and mosses, and with wreaths made of\nsprays of fresh green, this false knight rode suddenly from a wood near\nby, followed by a throng of armed men, and bade them stand, and yield up\nthe queen on peril of their lives.\n\n\"Traitor knight,\" cried Guenever, \"what seek you to do? Wouldst thou, a\nking's son, and a knight of the Round Table, seek to dishonor the noble\nking who made you what you are? You shame yourself and all knighthood;\nbut me you shall never shame, for I had rather cut my throat than be\ndishonored by you.\"\n\n\"Madam, this language will avail you nothing,\" said Meliagrance. \"I have\nloved you many a year, and now that I have you at advantage will take\nyou as I find you.\"\n\n\"You must kill us first, unarmed as we are,\" cried the queen's knights.\n\"You have taken us at a foul disadvantage; but you shall not have the\nqueen so lightly as you deem.\"\n\n\"Fight, will you? Then fight it, if you will have it so,\" said\nMeliagrance.\n\nThen the ten knights drew their swords, and the others spurred upon them\nwith couched spears. But so skilfully did the queen's defenders use\ntheir blades that the spears did them no harm.\n\nThe battle then went on with swords, and the ten knights did noble\ndeeds, slaying many of their assailants; yet they were so overmatched\nthat they soon were all stretched upon the earth with bleeding wounds.\n\n\"Sir Meliagrance,\" cried the queen, in deep distress, \"kill not my noble\nknights, I pray you. If you do them no more harm I will go with you, if\nyou will take them with me. Otherwise I will slay myself before you\nshall take me.\"\n\n\"Madam, since you wish it, they shall be taken to my castle, whither you\nmust come with me.\"\n\nThen at the queen's command the battle ceased, and the knights had their\nwounds dressed. But Meliagrance watched keenly that none of the company\nshould escape, for greatly he feared that news of this outrage might be\nborne to Lancelot du Lake.\n\nBut there was with the queen a little page who rode a swift horse, and\nto him she privily spoke.\n\n\"Slip away, when you see the chance,\" she said, \"and bear this ring to\nLancelot du Lake. Tell him what has happened, and pray him as he loves\nme to come in haste to my rescue. Spare not your horse, and stay not for\nland or water.\"\n\nThe page took the ring, and rode carelessly to the edge of the circle.\nThen, seeing his opportunity, he put spurs to his horse and rode away at\nfull speed. When Meliagrance saw this he ordered instant pursuit, and\nthe boy was hotly chased and fired at with arrows and javelins; yet the\nspeed of his horse soon carried him beyond danger.\n\n\"Madam,\" cried Meliagrance, fiercely, to the queen, \"you are plotting to\nbetray me. But if you have sent for Lancelot du Lake, he shall find the\nroad to you a perilous one, I warrant him.\"\n\nAnd as they rode to the castle he placed an ambush of thirty archers by\nthe road-side, charging them if they saw a knight come that way on a\nwhite horse to slay the horse. But he warned them not to assail him in\nperson, as they would find him hard to overcome.\n\nThis done, the party proceeded to the castle; but here the queen would\nnot let her ladies and knights out of her presence, and Meliagrance\nstood in such dread of Lancelot that he dared not use force.\n\nIn the mean time the page found Lancelot, and gave him the queen's ring\nand message, telling him the whole story of the treacherous assault.\n\n\"I would give all France to have been there well armed,\" cried Lancelot.\n\"The queen shall be saved, or I will die in the effort. Haste you to Sir\nLavaine and tell him where I have gone, and bid him follow me to\nMeliagrance's castle. Tell him to come quickly, if he wishes to have a\nhand in the rescue of the queen and her knights.\"\n\nLancelot was hastily arming as he spoke, and mounting, he rode with all\nspeed, forcing his horse to swim the Thames in his haste. In no great\ntime he reached the spot where the fight had taken place, and where he\nfound the garlands the knights had worn, rent with sword-strokes and\nreddened with their blood. Then he followed the tracks of the party till\nhe entered a narrow passage, bordered by a wood. Here were the archers\nstationed, and when Lancelot came by they bade him return, for that way\nwas closed.\n\n\"Why should I turn?\" he demanded. \"Whence get you the right to close the\nway?\"\n\n\"If you go forward it will be on foot, for we shall kill your horse.\"\n\n\"Go forward I shall, if there were five hundred more of you,\" said\nLancelot.\n\nThen a cloud of arrows whistled through the air, and the noble horse,\nstruck by a dozen shafts, fell to the earth. Lancelot leaped lightly\nfrom the falling animal, and rushed in a rage into the wood; but there\nwere so many hedges and ditches that he found it impossible to reach his\nlight-armed assailants.\n\n\"Shame on this Meliagrance for a dastard!\" he cried in anger. \"It is a\ntrue old saw that a good man is never in danger but from a coward.\"\n\nThe angry knight, finding that his assailants were beyond his reach, set\nout on foot for Meliagrance's castle, but found himself so encumbered\nwith his armor, shield, and spear, that his progress was but slow. Yet\nhe dared not leave any of his arms, for fear of giving his foe an\nadvantage.\n\nAt length, by good fortune, there appeared on the road a cart, that was\nused for hauling wood.\n\n\"Tell me, friend carter,\" said Lancelot, when the vehicle came near,\n\"what shall I give you for a ride in your cart to a castle that lies a\nfew miles away?\"\n\n\"You can give me nothing,\" said the carter. \"I am sent to bring wood for\nmy lord, Sir Meliagrance, and it is not my fashion to work for two at\nonce.\"\n\n\"It is Sir Meliagrance I seek.\"\n\n\"Then go on foot,\" said the carter, surlily. \"My cart is for other\nwork.\"\n\nIncensed at this, Lancelot dealt the fellow a blow with his mailed fist\nthat stretched him senseless on the ground. Then he turned to the\ncarter's comrade.\n\n\"Strike me not, fair sir,\" pleaded this fellow. \"I will bring you where\nyou wish.\"\n\n\"Then drive me and this cart to the gate of Meliagrance's castle.\"\n\n\"Leap into the cart, and you shall be there before the day grows old.\"\n\nThis Lancelot did, and the carter lashed his horse forward with all\nspeed, for he was in mortal fear of the knight's hard fist.\n\nAn hour and a half afterwards, as Guenever and her ladies stood in a\nwindow of the castle, they saw a cart approaching, in which stood\nupright an armed knight, resting on his spear. Even at that distance\nthey knew him by his shield to be Lancelot du Lake.\n\n\"A noble and trusty friend he is, indeed, to come in such a fashion,\"\nsaid the queen. \"Hard bested he must have been, to be forced to ride\nhither in a woodman's cart.\"\n\nAs they looked, the cart came to the castle gates, and Lancelot sprang\nfrom it to the ground, his heart full of rage and passion.\n\n\"Where art thou, traitor?\" he cried, in a voice that rang throughout the\ncastle. \"Come forth, thou disgrace to the Round Table fellowship! Come,\nwith all your men; for here am I, Lancelot du Lake, who will fight you\nall single-handed on this question.\"\n\nAs he spoke he thrust the gates open with such force that the porter,\nwho sought to hold them shut, was hurled like a dead man to the earth.\n\nWhen Meliagrance in the castle heard this loud defiance his cowardly\nsoul sank within him, for well he knew from whom it came, and he ran in\nhaste to the queen and fell on his knees before her, begging her to\nforgive him and to cool the wrath of Lancelot. So pitifully did he\nimplore, that in the end Guenever was moved to compassion, and went with\nher ladies to the castle court, where Lancelot stood furiously bidding\nthe traitor knight to come down and do battle.\n\n\"Why are you so moved, Lancelot?\" asked the queen.\n\n\"Why should I not be?\" he cried, in a rage. \"The hound has killed my\nhorse and stolen my queen. Is this the thing to bear like a lamb?\"\n\n\"He sorely repents his fault, and has moved me to forgive him,\" said the\nqueen. \"Come in, then, peaceably, I beg you, for I have passed my word.\"\n\n\"You accord easily with this dog of a kidnapper,\" said Lancelot,\nsourly. \"Had I looked for this I might have spared my haste and saved my\nhorse.\"\n\n\"It is not through love or favor I have forgiven him,\" said the queen,\n\"but to check the voice of scandal.\"\n\n\"I am no fonder of scandal than yourself,\" said Lancelot. \"Yet if I had\nmy will I would make this fellow's heart full cold before I left this\ncastle.\"\n\n\"I know that well, but beg that you will be ruled by me in this affair.\"\n\n\"Let it be so, if you have passed your word. But you are too soft of\nheart Queen Guenever.\"\n\nThen she took his hand, for he had taken off his gauntlet, and led him\ninto the castle, and to the chamber in which lay the ten wounded\nknights, whose hearts warmed at his coming. From them he learned in full\nwhat had occurred, a story which stirred his blood again into such a\nflame, that only the soft hand of the queen hindered him from seeking\nMeliagrance through the castle to slay him.\n\nAs they stood talking, Sir Lavaine rode furiously in at the gate,\ncrying,--\n\n\"Where is my lord, Sir Lancelot du Lake?\"\n\n\"Here I am,\" cried Lancelot from a window. \"All is well, Lavaine.\"\n\n\"I found your horse slain with arrows, and judged you were hard pushed.\"\n\n\"As for that, Lavaine, soft words have turned hard blows. Come in. We\nshall right this matter at another time, when we best may.\"\n\nFor many a day thereafter, as the French book says, Lancelot was called\nthe Chevalier of the Cart, and many an adventure he had under that\nhomely name.\n\nAll went peacefully that night at the castle, but the next morning there\nwas new trouble. For one of the castle maidens brought word to\nMeliagrance that she had found what seemed to be the print of a bloody\nhand on the coverings of the queen's bed. Thither he hurried, full of\njealous anger, and found what appeared, indeed, to be the crimson print\nof a man's hand. On seeing this he made a loud outcry, declaring that it\nwas the blood of one of the wounded knights, and fiercely accused\nGuenever of having been false to her lord King Arthur.\n\nWhen word of this accusation came to the wounded knights they were\nfilled with indignation, and cried that they would meet Meliagrance or\nany man in the lists in defence of the queen's honor.\n\n\"Ye speak proudly,\" said Meliagrance. \"Yet look here, and see if I have\nnot warrant for what I say.\"\n\nWhen he showed them the red witness of his words they were abashed, and\nknew not what to answer.\n\nAll this was told to Lancelot, and he came in haste and anger to the\nqueen's chamber.\n\n\"What is this?\" he demanded.\n\n\"It is that the queen has proved false to her lord and husband, and this\nI stand ready to prove with my body,\" said Meliagrance.\n\n\"Beware what you say, sir knight,\" cried Lancelot, \"or you will find\nyour challenge taken.\"\n\n\"My lord Lancelot,\" answered Meliagrance, \"good knight as you are, take\nheed how you do battle in a wrong quarrel, for God will have a hand in\nsuch a cause.\"\n\n\"This I say,\" answered Lancelot, hotly, \"that you accuse the queen\nwrongly, and these noble knights as falsely. This is the work of treason\nor magic.\"\n\n\"Hold,\" said Meliagrance; \"here is my glove, in proof that she is\ntraitress to the king, and that one of these wounded knights is her\nleman.\"\n\n\"I accept your challenge,\" said Lancelot, \"and will fight you to the\ndeath in this cause. When shall we do battle?\"\n\n\"Let it be in eight days from this,\" said Meliagrance, \"in the field\nbeside Camelot.\"\n\n\"I am agreed,\" said Lancelot.\n\n\"Then let us go to dinner,\" said Meliagrance, \"and afterwards you and\nthe queen and her knights may ride to Camelot.\"\n\nYet fairly as he spoke his heart was full of treachery, and before going\nto the table he asked Lancelot if he would care to see the rooms and\npassages of the castle.\n\n\"If you wish to show them,\" said Lancelot.\n\nThen they went from chamber to chamber, Lancelot having no fear of peril\nor thought of treason. But as they traversed a long and dark passage the\nfalse-hearted host trod on a spring, and down fell a trap-door, giving\nLancelot a fall of more than ten fathoms into a dark cell, whose floor\nwas covered deeply with straw. This done, Meliagrance hastened away,\nafter replacing the trap, and ordered one of his men to remove Lavaine's\nhorse from the stable.\n\nWhen the knights came to dinner all were surprised that Lancelot was not\npresent.\n\n\"Is this one of his old tricks?\" asked the queen. \"He has a fashion of\nthus departing suddenly, without warning.\"\n\n\"But not on foot,\" said Lavaine, and left the room.\n\nWhen he returned, it was to say that his horse had vanished from the\nstable, and that doubtless Lancelot had taken it and ridden off. So they\nsat quietly at dinner, and afterwards set out for the court, the wounded\nknights being carried under care of Lavaine, in easily litters.\n\nWhen the court was reached, and Arthur was told of what had occurred, he\nwas full of wrath.\n\n\"So this traitor Meliagrance chooses first to kidnap my queen, and then\nto accuse her of treason?\" he cried. \"By my crown, I would deal with him\nin another fashion only that Lancelot has taken the challenge. I fancy\nthe fellow will have his hands full, without my care. But where is\nLancelot?\"\n\n\"That we know not,\" said the knights. \"It is like him to go off in this\nhasty way. He took Sir Lavaine's horse, and left us without a word of\nparting.\"\n\n\"Let him he,\" said the king. \"He will come in good time,--unless he be\ntrapped by some treachery.\"\n\nLittle dreamed they of Lancelot's true situation at that moment. He had\nbeen sorely bruised by his fall, and lay in great pain in the cave,\nvisited only by a lady, who came to him daily with food. Yet it\nhappened, as had occurred so often to Lancelot, that the lady fell in\nlove with his handsome face. Meliagrance had made a foolish choice in\nsending a woman with a soft heart to his prisoner, and was likely to pay\ndearly for his folly. Yet days passed on, and Lancelot continued deaf to\nher sighs and blind to her languishing looks.\n\n\"Sir Lancelot,\" she at length said, \"do you not know that your lady,\nQueen Guenever, will be burnt at the stake unless you be there at the\nday of battle?\"\n\n\"God forbid that such a disaster should come to pass!\" cried Lancelot.\n\"Yet if I should not be there, all men of worship will know that I am\ndead, sick, or in prison, for men know me well enough to know that\nnothing less would keep me away. Therefore, some knight of my blood or\nof my fellowship will take up this battle, and fight bravely in the\nqueen's cause.\"\n\n\"I shall set you free, Sir Lancelot, to fight your own battle, if you\nwill but give me your love; for truly I love you with my whole heart.\"\n\n\"I am sorry that I cannot return it,\" said Lancelot. \"But I cannot lie\nto you in such a cause, even for life or honor.\"\n\n\"Take heed what you say, Sir Lancelot. Shame will be your lot if any but\nyou fight this battle.\"\n\n\"As for the world's shame, may Christ defend me. As for my distress of\nheart, it is welcome, if God sends it.\"\n\nThe lady went away full of sorrowful thoughts. But on the morning of the\nday fixed for the battle she came to him again, and said, gently,--\n\n\"Sir Lancelot, I deem you hard-hearted and cruel; yet I love you too\ntruly to see you disgraced. If you will solace my heart-pain with but\none kiss, I will set you free, and deliver to you your armor, and the\nbest horse in the castle stables.\"\n\n\"Surely there is no dishonor in a kiss; and well will you earn it by\nsuch service,\" said Lancelot. \"You offer me new life, fair lady.\"\n\nThen he kissed her; and with a face half glad, half gloomy, she led him\nfrom the prison by a secret passage to the chamber where his armor had\nbeen left. And when he was armed she conducted him privily to a stable\nwhere stood twelve good horses, and bade him make his choice.\n\nLancelot chose a white courser, whose size and spirit pleased him most,\nand this he deftly saddled and bridled. Then, with spear in hand and\nsword by side, he commended the lady to God, saying,--\n\n\"Lady, for this good deed I shall do you ample service if ever it be in\nmy power. If not, may God reward you.\"\n\nThis said, he rode with proud mien from the castle, and galloped at\nheadlong speed away, while she, with sad eyes and sighing lips, stood\nlooking with loving regard on his departing form.\n\nSadly was his coming needed, for imminent was the peril of the queen. At\nthe place fixed for the combat knights and lords had early gathered, and\nMeliagrance, feeling sure that Lancelot could not appear to do battle,\nput on a haughty mien, and loudly demanded justice, or the combat. Yet\nthe hour appointed came and passed, and the queen's champion had not\nappeared; while the king and all the court grew full of pain and dread\nas the fatal moments went by. The laws were strict, and could not be set\naside for queen or commoner. Guenever must perish at the stake, or be\nsaved by a champion's sword and spear. Therefore, as the minutes slowly\ngrew into hours, and nothing of Lancelot was seen, while Meliagrance\nmore loudly demanded justice or a champion, all hearts sank deep in\ndespair.\n\n\"My lord the king,\" cried Lavaine, at length, \"some sad misfortune has\nhappened to Sir Lancelot. Never did he fail to appear to do battle\nunless he were sick or in prison. I beseech you, therefore, give me\nleave this day to do battle for him, and to strike a knightly blow for\nmy lady the queen.\"\n\n\"Thanks, gentle knight,\" said the king. \"I dare avow that the charge\nwhich Meliagrance lays upon the queen is a false one, for of these ten\nwounded knights who were present, there is not one but would gladly do\nbattle to prove its falsity were he able to wear armor.\"\n\n\"That shall I do in the service of my lord Lancelot,\" said Lavaine, \"if\nyou will give me leave.\"\n\n\"Full leave you have,\" answered the king. \"I pray you do your best; for\nit seems sure that some treachery has been done to the noble Lancelot.\"\n\nLavaine now armed in all haste, and, mounting his war-courser, rode into\nthe lists, where he faced Meliagrance, challenging him to do battle to\nthe death.\n\n\"Lesses les aller!\" cried the heralds.\n\nThe two champions couched their spears, clutched their bridles, and were\nabout to plunge the spurs into their horses' flanks, when the sound of\nhoofs was heard without, and an armed knight came galloping at furious\nspeed into the lists.\n\n\"Ho! and abide!\" cried King Arthur.\n\n\"Raise your spears, sir knights, this quarrel is mine,\" said the\nnew-comer. \"You have my thanks, Lavaine, but only I must fight in this\ncause.\"\n\nThen he rode to the king, lifted his visor, and showed the noble face of\nLancelot, now hot with indignation.\n\n\"I am here to fight this villain and traitor,\" he called, loudly. \"My\nlord the king, I have lain these eight days in a prison cell, into which\nthe base hound entrapped me. By fortune I escaped, and here I am, ready\nto pay him in fitting coin for his foul treachery.\"\n\n\"The dog! has he done this thing?\" cried the king, in anger. \"Then, by\nmy crown, whether he win or not Guenever shall not suffer from the\ncharge which he has dared bring. But God's justice will not let him\nwin.\"\n\nThat Meliagrance quaked at heart on seeing this seeming apparition from\nthe grave need not be said. But he had dared the hazard of the die, and\nsat his horse in grim silence while his foul treachery was thus made\nknown to the court. Lancelot now rode to his place in the lists, and\nfaced his adversary.\n\n\"Lesses les aller!\" cried the heralds again.\n\nThen, spear in rest, the warriors spurred their horses, and met with a\nshock like thunder in the centre of the field. Lancelot kept his saddle,\nbut Meliagrance was hurled over his horse's croup. Seeing this, Lancelot\nlightly sprang from his saddle, drew his sword, and advanced upon his\nfoe, who was on his feet ready to meet him.\n\nHot and fierce was the combat that succeeded, many great strokes being\ngiven and returned; but at length Lancelot struck so fierce a blow that\nMeliagrance was felled to the ground. Then the dastard cried aloud in an\nagony of fear,--\n\n\"Noble knight, noble Sir Lancelot, spare my life, I humbly pray you! I\nyield me as overcome and recreant and beseech you, as a Knight and\nFellow of the Round Table, not to slay me helpless. Alive or dead, I put\nmyself in your hands and the king's.\"\n\nLancelot stood looking grimly down upon him, at a loss what to do. To\nslay him was the wish of his heart; yet it looked like murder to kill a\npraying wretch. In his doubt he turned towards the queen, and she nodded\nher head as if to bid him kill the villain.\n\n\"Rise, sir hound,\" cried Lancelot. \"You shall fight this battle to the\nutterance.\"\n\n\"I will never rise,\" said Meliagrance, \"till you grant me mercy as a\nyielding and recreant knight.\"\n\n\"Coward!\" cried Lancelot. \"If you fear to fight me as I am, I will give\nyou odds in the combat. I will take off my armor from my head and the\nleft side of my body, and let them bind my left hand behind me, and\nfight you with my right hand alone.\"\n\nAt this perilous offer Meliagrance started hastily to his feet, and\nloudly cried,--\n\n\"My lord Arthur, you have heard this offer! I accept it. Let him be\ndisarmed and bound as he says.\"\n\n\"You do not mean to keep this foolish promise, Lancelot?\" demanded the\nking.\n\n\"That do I,\" said Lancelot. \"I shall not go back on my word, be it wise\nor foolish.\"\n\n\"Then so let it be; but you invite death by such a reckless compact.\"\n\nThe attendant knights thereupon removed Lancelot's helmet, and took from\nhim his shield and the armor from his left side. They then bound his\nleft arm behind him, and thus arrayed he was placed before his\nantagonist, whose heart burned with hope and with murderous designs.\n\nAll those who looked on were full of fear for Lancelot, deeming it the\nheight of folly that he should take such a frightful risk, while many\nladies closed their eyes, in dread to see him slain.\n\nWith the inspiration of hope, Meliagrance came up, bearing his sword\nuplifted, while Lancelot stood with his head and side fully open to his\nstroke. Down came the blade with a deadly sweep that caused many men to\nclose their eyes, sure that the knights head would be cleft in twain.\n\nBut Lancelot had no such thought. With a light swing to the right he\navoided the stroke, which cut idly through the air; then, stepping\nforward to give effect to the blow, he swung his own blade upward with\ngiant strength, and brought it down on Meliagrance's helmet with such\nmighty force that the hard steel and the head it covered were shorn in\ntwain, and the traitor knight fell dead upon the field.\n\nWild were the shouts of joy and triumph at this unlooked-for end to the\ncombat. The king sprang from his seat and rushed into the lists, where\nhe warmly clasped Lancelot in his arms; while Guenever, in joy at her\ndeliverance, kissed him on both cheeks; and all the knights crowded\naround them with glad cries and warm congratulations.\n\nAs for Meliagrance, he was given the burial of a recreant and traitor,\nthe cause of his death being inscribed on his tomb, that all might read\nhis dishonor.\n\nBut for Sir Lancelot, the king and queen made more of him, and felt more\nlove for him in their hearts, than ever before.\n\nAfter this time many events of interest took place of which we have\nlittle space to speak. Among them, Lancelot healed the wounds of a\nknight of Hungary, named Sir Urre, who had been held in pain, through\nsorcery, for seven years, till his wounds should be touched by the best\nknight in the world. This knight had a lovely sister, named Felelolie,\nwhom Lavaine married, whereupon King Arthur made him a Knight of the\nRound Table, and gave him a barony of land.\n\nAs for Lancelot, he gained great fame as the Chevalier of the Cart. For\nas many lords and ladies made sport of him as the knight who had ridden\nin a cart, like one sentenced to the gallows, for a whole twelvemonth he\nnever mounted horse, but rode only in a cart, during which time he had\nmany adventures and fought forty battles, in all of which he came off\nvictor.\n\nAnd so the days grew into years, and all went happily at Arthur's court,\nthough each passing day brought the coming time of woe and disaster\nnearer to hand.\n\n\n\n\n                              BOOK XI.\n\n                        THE HAND OF DESTINY.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE TRAPPING OF THE LION.\n\n\nIn May, when every lusty heart flourisheth and bourgeoneth,--for as\nwinter, with its rough winds and blasts, causes man and woman to cover\nand sit fast by the fire, this fresh and joyous season brings them forth\nto gladden in the coming of the flowery summer,--in this rare month of\nMay, when only merry thoughts and gentle deeds should be known, there\nbegan a great and unhappy season of wrath, which ended not till the\nflower of chivalry of all the world was destroyed. And this all came\nabout through the hate and jealousy of two unhappy knights, Sir\nAgravaine and Sir Mordred, brothers unto Sir Gawaine.\n\nFor much in their secret souls they hated the queen and Lancelot, and\nthey fell to watching this good knight daily and nightly, with the hope\nof bringing him in some way to shame.\n\nFailing in this base endeavor, they no longer concealed their enmity,\nbut began to talk openly of the love of Lancelot for the queen, and to\nhint that shameful relations existed between them. The report of this\nslanderous talk coming to Gawaine's ears, he reproved them sharply for\nindulging in such base and unworthy scandal, in which he was joined by\nhis brothers Gareth and Gaheris.\n\n\"You forget what Lancelot has done for you,\" said Gawaine. \"Who but he\nrescued you both when held in prison by Sir Turquine? And many other\nthings he has done in your favor. Methinks such kind deeds merit better\nreturn than this.\"\n\n\"Think as you will,\" said Agravaine, \"I have my opinions and shall hide\nthem no longer.\"\n\nAs they thus debated King Arthur approached.\n\n\"Now, brothers, stint your noise,\" said Gawaine.\n\n\"That will we not,\" they replied.\n\n\"Then the devil speed the pair of you, if you are bent on mischief! I\nwill listen to no more of your slanderous talk.\"\n\n\"Nor will we,\" said Gareth and Gaheris. \"We owe too much to Lancelot to\nlisten to the false tales of evil tongues.\"\n\nWith this they turned and walked away in anger and grief, as Arthur came\nup.\n\n\"What is this?\" asked the king. \"Is there bad blood between you\nbrethren?\"\n\n\"They do not care to hear the truth,\" said Agravaine, \"but to my fancy\nit has been kept too long from your knowledge. We are your sister's\nsons, King Arthur, and it is our duty to be honest and open with you.\"\n\n\"What would you say?\" asked the king.\n\n\"Simply what we and all your court know well, that there are such doings\nbetween Lancelot and your queen as are a disgrace to this realm of\nEngland. He is a traitor to your person and your honor, and this we\nstand ready to prove.\"\n\n\"This is a perilous charge you make,\" said Arthur, deeply moved. \"Nor am\nI ready to believe such a tale on your mere word. You have gone far,\ngentlemen; too far, I deem, without abundant proof.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" said Mordred, \"we speak not without due warrant, and proof\nyou shall have. What we advise is, that you ride out to the hunt\nto-morrow. Lancelot, you will find, will have some excuse to hold back.\nThen, when night draws near, send word to the queen that you will lie\nout all that night. Let this be done, and we promise you we shall take\nhim with the queen. If we do it will go hard with Lancelot; for we shall\nnot lightly see our king brought to shame.\"\n\n\"Be it so,\" said the king, after deep thought, for he was little\ninclined to believe ill of Lancelot. \"I will do as you say. Understand,\nsir knights, I have heard all this before; yet I believe it not, and I\nconsent to your scheme only to put an end to the vile voice of scandal.\"\n\nOn the next morning, as agreed upon, Arthur rode to the hunt; but\nLancelot excused himself, as his enemies had predicted, on the plea that\nhe was in no mood for the chase. When night came near a messenger from\nthe king brought word to Guenever that the hunting party had been drawn\nfar away, and would not return that night.\n\nMeanwhile Mordred and Agravaine selected twelve knights, all of them\nenemies of Lancelot, to whom they told their purpose, and set them on\nguard in the castle of Carlisle, where the court then was. Of Lancelot's\nfriends few were in the court, for nearly all had gone with the king to\nthe hunt.\n\nWhen night came, Lancelot told Bors, who dwelt with him, that he had a\nfancy to go and speak with the queen.\n\n\"Do not go to-night, I pray you,\" said Bors.\n\n\"Why not to-night?\"\n\n\"I fear some plot of that rogue, Agravaine, who has it in his heart to\nwork you ill. I have heard a whisper, and fear that the king's absence\nto-night is part of a plot, and that an ambush is laid to do you harm.\"\n\n\"Have no dread of that,\" said Lancelot. \"I wish only some minutes'\nconversation with the queen, and will quickly return again.\"\n\n\"I should rather you would not go. I am in doubt that some evil may come\nof it.\"\n\n\"Why say you this nephew? Do you deem that I am a coward, or that the\nqueen is my mistress, as the evil-tongued say? I go because she has sent\nfor me, desiring to see me. Am I the man to deny her request because\nthere are foul-mouthed slanderers abroad?\"\n\n\"Go, then, since I see you will. God speed you, and send you back safe\nand sound.\"\n\nLancelot thereupon wrapped himself in his mantle, and taking his sword\nunder his arm made his way to the castle, which was some distance from\nhis residence. Here he sought and entered the queen's chamber, where she\nawaited him with her ladies.\n\nBut no sooner had he done so, and scarcely had he spoken a word to his\nroyal lady, than Mordred, Agravaine, and their followers burst in tumult\nfrom the chamber in which they had been concealed, and loudly\nexclaimed,--\n\n\"Traitor knight! Lancelot du Lake, false and caitiff wretch, now art\nthou taken in thy treason!\"\n\nSo loud they cried that their voices rang throughout the court, and they\ncrowded round the door of the queen's chamber, bent on taking Lancelot\nunarmed, and slaying him at the feet of Guenever. Fortunately the door\nwas of solid oak, and a damsel of the queen had hastily shot the bolts.\n\n\"Alas!\" cried the queen, \"what vile plot is this? Mischief is around us,\nLancelot!\"\n\n\"Is there any armor in your chamber?\" asked Lancelot. \"If so, give it to\nme, and I will face this malicious crew.\"\n\n\"There is none,\" said the queen. \"I see no hope, and fear our love has\ncome to a fatal end. There seems to be a host of armed knights without.\nThey will kill you, Lancelot, and death will come to me through their\nvile charge of unchastity.\"\n\n\"Why did I not even wear as much of my armor as I fought Meliagrance\nwith!\" cried Lancelot, in distress. \"If I had but listened to Sir Bors!\nNever was I caught in such a trap before.\"\n\nAs they spoke the tumult without increased, and Mordred and Agravaine\ncried together,--\n\n\"Come out, thou traitor knight! Think not to escape, for we have you\nlike a rat in a trap. Come out and meet your just deserts.\"\n\n\"Shall I bear this?\" cried Lancelot, flaming into anger. \"The dogs! a\ndozen of them in armor against one man in his mantle! I would rather\nmeet death at once than stand and hear their reviling tongues.\"\n\nThen he took the queen in his arms and kissed her, saying,--\n\n\"Most noble Christian queen, I beseech you, as you have ever been my\nspecial good lady, and I your poor knight, and as I never failed you in\nright or wrong since the day that King Arthur made me knight, that you\nwill pray for my soul if I be here slain. For you may be sure that Sir\nBors and my other kindred, with Lavaine and others of my friends, will\nrescue you from harm, and I beg you to go with them and live like a\nqueen on my lands.\"\n\n\"That will I not, Lancelot,\" said the queen. \"If you are slain for me,\nthen death may come when it will, for I shall not live long to mourn\nyou.\"\n\n\"Then, since my last hour seems to have come, and our love and life must\ncease together, so let it be; but some of those barking curs shall go\nwith me to the shades. I am heavier at heart for you than for myself.\nAh, that I had but a knight's armor!\"\n\n\"I would that God would be content with my death, and suffer you to\nescape,\" said the queen.\n\n\"That shall never be,\" said Lancelot. \"God defend me from such a shame.\nAnd now may the Lord Jesus be my shield and my armor.\"\n\nThis said, he wrapped his mantle around his arm, and approached the\ndoor. As he did so the strong oaken portal trembled under their blows,\nfor they had got a great form out of the hall, and were using it as a\nbattering-ram.\n\n\"Save your trouble, you crew of mischief,\" said Lancelot. \"Think you\nthat Lancelot du Lake needs to be come at like a rabbit in its hutch? I\nfear you not, and dread not to face an army of such hounds.\"\n\n\"Come out, then, or let us into that chamber. It avails you nothing to\nstrive against us all; but we will promise to spare your life till we\nhave brought you to King Arthur.\"\n\n\"Will you?\" said Lancelot, \"or do you think to slay me where I stand? I\ntrust you not, liars.\"\n\nThen he unbarred the door and with his left hand held it open a little,\nso that but one man could enter at a time. As he did so, Colgrevance of\nGore, who stood nearest, pressed forcibly through the opening, and\nstruck a spiteful blow at Lancelot with his sword. This Lancelot\nparried, and returned so fierce a stroke with his own good blade, that\nhe cut through the helmet and skull of the knight, and stretched him\ndead upon the floor.\n\nThen, with all his great strength, he dragged the bleeding corpse within\nthe chamber, closed the door against the pressure of all who bore upon\nit, and replaced the bars. \"So much for this daring fool,\" he cried.\n\"Thank heaven, I have an armor now! I shall not be quite a sheep at the\nshambles.\"\n\nAs he spoke he was hastily stripping the armor from the body of the dead\nknight. This done, he quickly arrayed himself in it, with the aid of the\nqueen and her ladies.\n\nMeanwhile the assault on the door continued, and Mordred and Agravaine\nkept up their cry,--\n\n\"Traitor knight! come out of the queen's chamber!\"\n\n\"Hold your peace,\" cried Lancelot. \"You shall not prison me here, I\npromise you that, and if you take my counsel, you will depart. I am\nready to agree on my knighthood to appear to-morrow before the king, and\nanswer there that I came not to the queen with any evil purpose; and\nthis I stand ready to prove by word or deed.\"\n\n\"Out on you, traitor!\" cried Mordred. \"Have you, we will, and slay you\nif we wish, for the king has given us the choice to save you or slay\nyou.\"\n\n\"Is that your last word, sirrahs? Then keep yourselves, for I am not of\nthe breed that die easily.\"\n\nAs he spoke, he flung down the bars and threw the door wide open. Then\nhe strode proudly and mightily among them, sword in hand and clad in\nfull armor, and at the first blow from his mighty hand stretched\nAgravaine dead upon the floor. Like a maddened lion that charges upon a\nherd of sheep, he now rushed upon them, striking fiercely to right and\nleft, and felling men with every blow, till in a little while twelve\nmore of his assailants lay cold in death, for there was not a man of\nthem all could stand one blow from his powerful arm.\n\nOf the whole party only Mordred remained alive, and he fled wounded with\ncraven haste. Then Lancelot, leaning on his blood-dripping sword, turned\nto the queen, who stood looking at his deeds of might, with white lips\nand starting eyes.\n\n[Illustration: Copyright by Frederick Hollyer, London, England.\n\nSIR LANCELOT IN THE QUEEN'S CHAMBER.]\n\n\"All is at an end now,\" he said. \"Henceforth King Arthur is my foe, and\nI am like a wolf at bay. Yet I fear your enemies will work you fatal\nharm, and would have you go with me, and let me be your\nknight-protector.\"\n\n\"That I dread to do,\" said the queen, \"for vile slander would follow my\nfootsteps. I had better face my foes. If they devise to put me to death,\nthen you may come to my rescue, and no one then can blame me for going\nwith you.\"\n\n\"That shall I do,\" said Lancelot. \"And I promise to make such havoc\namong all men who mean you harm as I have done among those who lie\nhere.\"\n\nThen he kissed her, and each gave the other a ring; and so he left the\nqueen and went to his lodgings.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nTHE RESCUE OF THE QUEEN.\n\n\nLittle sleep came that night to Lancelot and his friends. For when he\ncame again to Bors, he had found him, with others of his kindred, armed\nand ready to come to his rescue. They listened with concern and\nindignation to Lancelot's story of how he had been entrapped, and heard\nwith knightly joy the story of his bold discomfiture of his foes.\n\nBut it was evident to them all that the event was one of the greatest\nmoment; that enmity would exist between Lancelot and the king, and that\nGuenever might be adjudged to the stake on the charge of infidelity to\nher lord.\n\nTherefore Bors took it upon himself to gather in Lancelot's defence all\nhis kindred and friends; and by seven o'clock of the next morning he had\ngained the word of twenty-two Knights of the Round Table. To these were\nadded knights of North Wales and Cornwall, who joined Lancelot for\nLamorak's and Tristram's sake, to the number of fourscore.\n\nTo these Lancelot told all that had occurred, and expressed his fear of\nArthur's hostility.\n\n\"I am sure of mortal war,\" he said, \"for these knights claimed to have\nbeen sent and ordained by King Arthur to betray me, and I fear the king\nmay, in his heat and malice, condemn the queen to the fire. Trust me,\nthat I will not suffer her to be burnt for my sake. She is and has been\never a true lady to her lord, and while I live she shall not become a\nvictim to the malice of her enemies.\"\n\nThe assembled knights agreed with him in this decision, and promised\ntheir utmost aid in his purpose of rescue.\n\n\"Rescue her I shall, whoever may be hurt; and I trust to heaven that no\nfriend of mine will aid the king to her injury. But if I rescue her,\nwhere shall I keep her?\"\n\n\"Did not the noble Sir Tristram, with your good will, keep La Belle\nIsolde three years in Joyous Gard, against the malice of King Mark?\"\nsaid Bors. \"That place is your own; and there, if the king adjudge the\nqueen to the stake, you may keep her till his heat shall cool. Then you\nmay bring her home with worship, and gain Arthur's thanks.\"\n\n\"That may not work so well as you fancy,\" said Lancelot. \"You remember\nwhat a return Tristram got from King Mark.\"\n\n\"That is another story,\" replied Bors. \"You know well that Arthur and\nMark are men of different mould. Mark could smile and play the traitor;\nbut no man living can say that King Arthur was ever untrue to his word.\"\n\nTheir conference over, by the advice of Lancelot the knights put\nthemselves in ambush in a wood as near Carlisle as they could secretly\napproach. And there they remained on guard, waiting to learn what the\nking might do.\n\nMeantime Mordred, though wounded by Lancelot's sword, had managed to\nmount his horse, and rode in all haste to tell the king of the bloody\nend of the ambush. On hearing the story, Arthur's mind was divided\nbetween anger and pain.\n\n\"It grieves me sorely that Lancelot should be against me,\" he said; \"and\nmuch I fear that the glorious fellowship of the Round Table is broken,\nfor many of our noblest knights will hold with him. But dishonor must\nnot rest upon England's crown. The queen has played me false, and shall\nsuffer death for her treason to her wifely duty.\"\n\nFor the law was such in those days, that all, of whatever estate or\ndegree, found guilty of treason, should suffer death. And so it was\nordained in Queen Guenever's case--since thirteen knights had been\nslain, and one escaped sore wounded, in defending the king's honor--that\nshe should be taken to the stake, and there be burnt to death as a\ntraitress.\n\n\"My lord Arthur,\" said Gawaine, \"let me counsel you not to be over\nhasty in this severe judgment, for as I take it the guilt of the queen\nis not proved. That Lancelot was found in the queen's chamber I admit;\nbut he might have come there with no evil purpose. You know how he has\nbeen for years her chosen knight, and how much he has done for her. She\nmay have sent for him privily, to avoid scandal, for conference on some\ninnocent subject. What we do for the best often turns to the worst, and\nI dare affirm that my lady the queen is, and has always been, faithful\nand true to her lord. As for Lancelot, I doubt me not he will make good\nwhat I have said with word and body, against any and all that question\nor oppose.\"\n\n\"That I believe,\" said the king. \"I know Lancelot's way. But his\nboldness does not prove the queen's innocence. For her he shall never\nfight again, for she shall suffer the penalty of the law. And if I can\nlay my hands on him, he shall die the shameful death he richly merits.\"\n\n\"Then may Christ save me from ever seeing it,\" said Gawaine.\n\n\"Why say you this?\" demanded the king, angrily. \"You have no cause to\nlove him. Last night he killed your brother Agravaine, and here is\nMordred sorely wounded. He also slew two of your sons, Sir Florence and\nSir Lovel.\"\n\n\"I know all that. But I gave them warning beforehand of what would\nhappen if they meddled in this affair. They brought this fate on\nthemselves. As for Agravaine, he stirred up this scandalous business,\nand has got his deserts.\"\n\n\"Say no more,\" cried the king, in hot indignation. \"I am resolved. The\nhonor of Arthur's wife must be above suspicion. She has fallen from\nchastity and shall die the death. As for you, Gawaine, I bid you arm in\nyour best armor, with your brethren Gareth and Gaheris, and bring her to\nthe fire, that she may there hear her judgment, and receive the death\nshe merits.\"\n\n\"No, my most noble lord, that shall I never do,\" said Gawaine. \"No man\nshall say that I had aught to do with the death of this worthy lady, or\ngave my word in favor of her death.\"\n\n\"Then bid your brothers, Gareth and Gaheris, attend.\"\n\n\"They are young, and may not withstand your will; but they shall not be\nthere by my counsel,\" said Gawaine, stoutly.\n\n\"We must attend, if you command us,\" said Gareth and Gaheris to the\nking. \"But it will be sorely against our wills. If come we must, it\nshall be in peaceful guise, and without warlike array.\"\n\n\"Come as you will,\" said the king. \"This I say, she shall have judgment\nthis day.\"\n\n\"Alas! that I have ever lived to see this woful day!\" said Gawaine,\nsadly, and as he turned away the tears ran hotly from his eyes.\n\nBut the king was bitterly set in his deadly purpose, and no sooner had\nhe reached Carlisle than he gave command that the queen should at once\nbe led to the place of execution, there to be burned as a traitress.\n\nWhen this fatal decision was known in the castle there was weeping and\nwailing and wringing of hands from many lords and ladies, while of the\nknights there present, few would consent to wear armor to compass the\nqueen's death.\n\nBut Arthur's commands none dared question, and the unhappy lady was\nshriven by her ghostly father, and bound to the fatal stake. In a circle\naround her stood a guard of armed knights, while others were present\nwithout armor. But the king was not there; nor would Gawaine show\nhimself at that shameful scene.\n\nThen fire was set to the fagots that surrounded the stake. But as the\nflames began to curl upwards there came a shrill bugle-blast from a\nneighboring wood, and of a sudden Lancelot and his knights broke from\ntheir ambush, and rode upon those about the fire, striking right and\nleft at all who bore arms and withstood them.\n\nDown went the guard of knights before this fierce onset, till full\ntwenty of them lay dead on the field. But by sad fortune, as Lancelot,\nin his warlike fury pressed hither and thither, cutting and slashing\nwith the hot rage of the berserker, he by mishap struck the two unarmed\nknights, Gareth and Gaheris, and stretched them dead upon the field.\n\nThis was in the thick of the fray, and he knew not what he had done, for\nrather would he have slain himself than harmed these, his faithful\nfriends. A few minutes sufficed to kill or disperse all the guard. Then\nLancelot sprang from his horse, scattered the blazing fagots with his\nfoot, and with a blow of his sword severed the bonds that fastened\nGuenever to the stake.\n\nThe unhappy lady fell, weeping, into his arms, thanking him in broken\naccents. With all due haste he mounted her on a horse that had been\nprovided, and rode off with her and his following of gallant knights to\nJoyous Gard, strong of heart and stout of frame, and resolved to fight\nfor her to the death, for more than ever he felt himself her chosen\nknight.\n\nAnd when word went through the country round that Arthur and Lancelot\nwere at odds, many a good knight rode in all haste to his castle, bent\non taking his side in the coming war.\n\nBut when the news was brought to Arthur of how Lancelot had rescued the\nqueen, and slain many of his knights, and in particular Gareth and\nGaheris, his anger turned to such bitter sorrow and regret that he\nswooned from pure grief. And when he came to his senses again he deeply\nmoaned, and reproached himself for the evil that had befallen.\n\n\"Alas! that I ever wore the crown!\" he bewailed. \"Within these two days\nI have lost forty knights, and, above all, the noble fellowship of\nLancelot and his kindred, and all because I listened to the tongue of\nfoul detraction. Alas! that ever this fatal thing began! Fair friends,\nsee that none of you tell Gawaine of what has happened, for he loves\nGareth so deeply that I fear, when he hears of his death, he will go out\nof his mind. How came Lancelot to slay these knights, who both loved him\ndevotedly?\"\n\n\"He would never have harmed them had he known them,\" said a knight. \"It\nwas in the midst of the hurtling and fierce struggling, when swords\nstrike they know not where. Sad he will be when he learns what he has\ndone.\"\n\n\"I am heavier for the loss of my knights than of my queen,\" said\nArthur, sadly. \"Other queens may be had, but such a fellowship of\nknights can never be brought together again. And this I know, that when\nGawaine learns of Gareth's death, he will never rest, nor suffer me to\nrest, till I have destroyed Lancelot and his kindred, or they have\ndestroyed me. Ah, Agravaine, Agravaine, Jesus forgive thy soul for thy\nevil will, for thou and thy brother Mordred have caused all this bitter\nsorrow.\"\n\nWhile the king thus complained, a tale-bearer, unheeding his\ninjunctions, came to Gawaine big with his story, and told him of the\nrescue of the queen, and the death of a knightly host.\n\n\"What else could Lancelot do?\" said Gawaine. \"I should have done as much\nmyself had I stood in his place. But where are my brothers? Why hear I\nnot of them?\"\n\n\"Truly,\" said the man; \"they are both killed.\"\n\n\"Now, Jesus forbid! What! both? Is Gareth slain? Dare you tell me so?\"\n\n\"Alas! the pity of it!\"\n\n\"Killed! Who killed him?\"\n\n\"Sir Lancelot slew them both.\"\n\n\"That is false. Gareth loved him better than he did me or the king. He\nwould have joined him against us all, had Lancelot desired. And he was\nunarmed. Dare you repeat this story?\" and he caught the man fiercely by\nthe shoulders and glared wildly in his face.\n\n\"Sir, it is so noised abroad,\" said the man.\n\n\"Then is all joy gone from my life,\" moaned Gawaine, and he fell to the\nfloor in a deep swoon, in which he lay long like one dead.\n\nBut when Gawaine recovered, and had sought the king, and learned that\nhis two brothers had been killed, unarmed and defenceless, his sorrow\nchanged to bitter and revengeful anger.\n\n\"My king, my lord, and my uncle,\" he sternly said, \"I vow by my\nknighthood that I shall never forgive Lancelot for this murderous deed,\nbut from this day forth shall remain his deadly foe, till one of us has\nslain the other. War to the death it shall be, and if you aid me not I\nshall seek Sir Lancelot alone, if it be through seven kings' realms,\ntill I hold him to answer for this deed of blood.\"\n\n\"You shall not need to seek him so far,\" said the king. \"They say that\nLancelot awaits us in Joyous Gard, and that many knights have joined\nhim.\"\n\n\"Well is it so,\" said Gawaine fiercely. \"Then my lord Arthur, gather\nyour friends, and I will gather mine. Say not that deeds like this shall\ngo unpunished in England's realm. Your justice defied! My unarmed\nbrothers murdered! Shall this be done, and we basely submit?\"\n\n\"You speak to the point,\" said the king. \"We must strike for honor and\nrevenge. Strong as Lancelot's castle is, and bold as are his friends, I\nfancy I can gain strength enough to draw him out of the strongest tower\nin it.\"\n\nThen King Arthur sent orders far and wide through the land, and in brief\ntime there came to Carlisle many knights, dukes, and earls, so that he\nhad a great host. These the king informed of what had happened, and of\nhis purpose to force Lancelot to yield up his queen, and to punish him\nfor his trespass.\n\nLancelot meanwhile, was not idle, but drew to himself, many more\nknights, and provisioned his castle fully, for he well knew that he must\nabide behind walls, as he was far too weak to meet the king's host in\nthe field.\n\nNot many days had elapsed when King Arthur and Gawaine with a great host\nof men, laid siege about Joyous Gard, both the town and the castle, and\nwar replaced the peace that had reigned so long in the land.\n\nBut Lancelot lay secure in his castle, and for a long time would not go\nout himself, nor suffer any of his knights to pass the gates of town or\ncastle. And so fifteen weeks of the siege passed away.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTHE RETURN OF GUENEVER.\n\n\nIt befell upon a day in harvest-time that Lancelot looked over the walls\nof Joyous Gard, and seeing below him the king and Gawaine, thus spoke to\nthem,--\n\n\"My lords both, you besiege this castle in vain. You will gain more\ndishonor than worship here. If I chose to come out, with my knights, I\nshould soon bring this war to an end.\"\n\n\"Come forth, if thou darest!\" cried the king, in anger. \"I promise to\nmeet thee in the midst of the field.\"\n\n\"God defend that I should face on the field of battle the noble king who\nmade me knight.\"\n\n\"A truce to your fair language,\" answered the king. \"Trust me, that I am\nyour mortal foe, and will be so till the day of my death. You have slain\nmy knights and dishonored my queen, and hold her from me by force, like\na traitor. Think you I shall lightly forgive this?\"\n\n\"You may say what you will, my lord and king,\" answered Lancelot. \"With\nyou I will not fight; but as for your lady Guenever, I am ready to stand\nfor her innocence against any knight under heaven. Those who have\nslandered me and her lie in their teeth, and I hold myself ready to\nprove to the death that she is as true and chaste a lady as ever lived.\nMore than once, my lord, you have consented that she should be burnt,\nfrom the voice of slander, and more than once have I rescued her, and\nforced the lie down the throats of her slanderers. Then you thanked me\nfor saving her from the fire. Now, for doing you the same high service\nagain, you bring war upon me. Your queen is honest and true, and if you\nwill receive her to your good grace again I stand ready to deliver her.\"\n\n\"Recreant knight!\" cried Gawaine, in wrath, \"I warrant you my lord the\nking shall have his queen and you too, despite your fair words and proud\ndefiance, and shall slay you both if it please him.\"\n\n\"That may be, Gawaine,\" said Lancelot. \"Yet if I chose to come out of\nthe castle you would not find it quite child's play to win me and the\nqueen.\"\n\n\"Save your boastful words,\" said Gawaine. \"As for my lady, the queen, I\nshall say naught to her dishonor. But, recreant knight, what cause had\nyou to slay my brother Gareth, who loved you with his whole soul?\"\n\n\"I shall not seek an excuse for that deed,\" said Lancelot. \"I would with\nas good will have slain my nephew Sir Bors. All I may say is that it was\ndone in the heat of battle, and I knew not they were slain till word was\nbrought me here.\"\n\n\"You lie in your teeth!\" cried Gawaine. \"You killed them in despite of\nme; and for this foul deed I shall make war on you while I live.\"\n\n\"If you are so hotly set, there is no use for me to seek accord; yet I\nam truly sorry for their deaths and your enmity. Only for this I would\nsoon have the good grace of my lord Arthur.\"\n\n\"That may be, traitor, but you will wait long for peace. You have lorded\nit over me, and the whole of us, too long, and slain knights at your\nwill. Now our turn has come.\"\n\n\"No one dare say that I ever killed a knight through treachery, as you,\nGawaine, have done.\"\n\n\"You mean Sir Lamorak. Him I slew, man to man.\"\n\n\"Who lies now? You know well that you and the crew that set upon him\ndared not meet him face to face. You struck him treacherously from\nbehind.\"\n\n\"A truce to Lamorak. This you may know, that I will never leave you till\nI deal with you as I did with him.\"\n\n\"Murder me, you mean! I fancy you might if you caught me in such a\nstrait, which you will not easily do.\"\n\nThen others took the cue from Gawaine, and the cry went up from many\nvoices: \"False and recreant knight! how long will you hide behind your\ncastle walls, like a rat in his hole?\"\n\n\"How long is this to last?\" said Bors and others to Lancelot. \"We pray\nyou to keep us no longer within these walls, but let us out to do battle\nwith them. Men will say next that you are afraid. As for fair speech, it\nis thrown away. Gawaine will never forgive you, nor suffer you to make\naccord with the king. Therefore fight for your right, for to that it\nmust come.\"\n\n\"I am loath to do so,\" said Lancelot.\n\nThen he called from the wall to the king,--\n\n\"My knights demand that I let them sally from the castle. I therefore\npray that neither you nor Sir Gawaine come into the field, for to you\ntwo I wish no harm.\"\n\n\"What then? Shall we cower in our tents while others fight our battles?\"\ncried Gawaine. \"This quarrel is mine and the king's. Shall we not fight\nin it?\"\n\n\"If you will, you will; but I seek not battle with either of you.\"\n\nThen they drew back, and both sides made ready for battle. And Gawaine,\nwith deadly intent, set aside a strong body of knights, bidding them to\nattack Lancelot in force, and slay him if they could.\n\nWhen the next morning came, King Arthur drew up his host against the\ncastle in three great bands. And Lancelot's fellowship issued from the\ncastle at three gates, the three bands being led by Lancelot, Bors, and\nLionel. But Lancelot had given strict charge to his knights to avoid\nharming King Arthur and Sir Gawaine.\n\nFierce was the battle that followed, and many good knights were slain.\nIt began with a challenge from Gawaine, who came out before the king's\nhost and dared any knight of Lancelot's to joust with him. This\nchallenge Lionel accepted, but Gawaine thrust him through the body, and\ndashed him to the earth like a dead man. Then his friends rushed to his\nrescue and drove back his foes, bearing him from the field into the\ncastle. This affray brought on a hot and fiery battle, and soon the air\nwas filled with shouts, and the earth strewn with dead and wounded men.\n\nIn the midst of this fray the king hotly attacked Lancelot; but that\nfaithful knight patiently endured his assault, and lifted not a hand in\ndefence. But Bors, seeing his danger, rushed in, and, with a spear\nthrust, hurled King Arthur to the ground. Quickly leaping from his\nhorse, he drew his sword, and said,--\n\n\"Shall I make an end of this war?\"\n\n\"On pain of your head, no! Harm not the king! I shall not stand by and\nsee him slain.\"\n\nThen Lancelot sprang to the ground and helped the king to his horse\nagain, saying,--\n\n\"My lord Arthur, for God's sake, end this strife! I will not fight you,\nthough you kill me, nor have I the heart to fight your men. My lord,\nremember what I have done for you. Is not this an evil reward?\"\n\nWhen Arthur heard these words tears flowed from his eyes, for Lancelot's\ncourtesy had overcome his anger. He turned and rode away, saying\nsadly,--\n\n\"Alas! that this war ever began.\"\n\nThen both sides drew off, and parties of each began the sad duty of\nburying the dead, while the wounded were borne away, and healing salves\napplied to their wounds.\n\nThe next day the battle was renewed, and fought with the same deadly\nenergy as before. On this day Bors led the foremost party, and met\nGawaine as Lionel had done the day before. Fiercely together they rode,\nand both were hurled to the ground with deep and dangerous wounds.\nAround them the battle raged with double fierceness, but Lancelot broke\nin and rescued Bors, and had him borne to the castle, while the other\nparty bore off Gawaine.\n\nThen, as the battle continued, Lavaine and others begged Lancelot to put\nforth his strength and fight with his full might, for he imperilled them\nall by his forbearance.\n\n\"Why should you spare your foes?\" they said. \"You do but harm thereby.\nYour enemies spare not you.\"\n\n\"I have no heart to fight against the king,\" said Lancelot.\n\n\"If you spare them all this day they will never thank you,\" said\nPalamides. \"And if they get the better of you they will slay you without\nmercy.\"\n\nLancelot saw that this was but the truth, and stirred by this and the\nwound of Sir Bors, he rushed into the fray with his old might and fury,\nforcing back all before him. Glad to see the old Lancelot, his\nfollowers pressed forward, driving back the foe, so that by eventide\nthey had the best of the fray, and their horses went fetlock deep in the\nblood of the slain.\n\nThen, in pity for Arthur, Lancelot blew the recall, and suffered the\nking's party to withdraw without further slaughter.\n\nAfter this there was peace between the parties for many days, for\nGawaine had been so sorely hurt that he could not stir the king to\nactive war, and Arthur after awhile returned to Carlisle, leaving the\ncastle closely besieged.\n\nBut the story of this war had now passed through Christendom, and had\nreached the pope, who, feeling that war between King Arthur and Lancelot\nwas like battle between brothers, sent a letter to the king, commanding\nhim, under pain of an interdict upon all England, to take his Queen\nGuenever into favor again, and to make peace and accord with Sir\nLancelot.\n\nThis Papal bull was brought to Arthur by the bishop of Rochester, who\nwas then at Rome. When the king had heard it read he knew not what to\ndo. He agreed to take back the queen, and in his heart desired to make\nfriends with Lancelot; but to this Gawaine, who had then the greatest\ninfluence over him, would not consent.\n\nIn the end it was agreed that if Lancelot would bring back the queen he\nshould come and go in safety, and that no word should be spoken to\nGuenever, by the king or other person, of aught that had happened in the\npast.\n\nThen the bishop had from the king his assurance, under the great seal\nof the realm, as he was a true anointed knight, that Sir Lancelot should\ncome and return in safety, and that the queen should not be spoken to by\nthe king, or any other, concerning what had passed. With this\nsafe-conduct, written at length and signed by King Arthur, the holy\nprelate rode in state to Joyous Gard, where he made Lancelot acquainted\nwith all that had happened, telling him of the pope's action, and of the\nperil he would encounter if he withheld the queen from the king.\n\n\"It was never in my thought,\" said Lancelot, \"to withhold Queen Guenever\nfrom my lord Arthur. All men know why I have her in charge. She would\nhave suffered a shameful death through the king's unjust anger had I not\nbeen on hand to save her life; and I hold her only from peril of that\nvile sentence, which has never until now been remitted. I thank the pope\nheartily that he has made peace between Guenever and the king, and God\nknows that I will be a thousand-fold gladder to take her back than I\never was to bring her away. All I demand is, that I shall come and go in\nsafety, and that the queen shall have her liberty as before, and stand\nin no peril from this or any former charge against her. For else I dare\nventure to keep her from a harder shower than ever yet has fallen upon\nher or me.\"\n\n\"You need dread nothing either for yourself or the queen,\" replied the\nbishop. \"You know full well that the pope must be obeyed, by the king as\nwell as by you. It were not to the pope's worship nor my poor honor that\nyou should be distressed, or the queen put to shame or peril. And as\nfor King Arthur, here is his promise, under his own writing and seal.\"\n\nThen he showed Lancelot all the written documents he had brought, both\nfrom the pope and the king.\n\n\"That suffices,\" said Lancelot. \"I would trust King Arthur's bare word\nas I would the oath of half Christendom. No man can say that he ever\nbroke his plighted faith. Therefore, I beg you to ride before me to the\nking, and recommend me to his good grace, letting him know that in eight\ndays from to-day, by the grace of God, I shall bring to him his lady\nQueen Guenever. And say this further to him, that I stand ready to meet\nany one in the lists for the queen's fair fame except himself and Sir\nGawaine, and the latter more from the king's love for him than from\naught of his own deserts.\"\n\nWith this agreement the bishop departed to Carlisle, and when he had\ntold the king how nobly Lancelot had spoken, the tears started from\nArthur's eyes, and much he deplored in his heart the cruel chance that\nhad aroused war between him and his dearest friend.\n\nLancelot now made ready a hundred knights, who were all dressed in green\nvelvet, with their horses trapped to their heels, while each knight held\nin his hand an olive branch, in token of peace. For the queen there were\nprovided four and twenty gentlewomen, who followed her in the same\nguise; while Lancelot was followed by twelve coursers, on each of which\nsat a young gentleman, and these were arrayed in green velvet with\ngolden girdles, and the horses trapped to the heels with rich cloths,\nset with pearls and stones in gold, to the number of a thousand. As for\nLancelot and Guenever, they were clothed in white cloth-of-gold tissue.\nAnd in this array they rode from Joyous Gard to Carlisle, and through\nCarlisle to the castle, while many an eye shed tears on seeing them.\n\nThen Lancelot alighted and took the queen, and led her to where Arthur\nsat, with Gawaine and many great lords before him. Then he kneeled, and\nthe queen with him.\n\nMany of the assembled knights wept bitterly on seeing this, but the king\nsat in haughty silence, looking steadily upon the pair who knelt before\nhim. Seeing his countenance, Lancelot rose and forced the queen to rise\nalso. Then thus he spoke in knightly pride,--\n\n\"My lord the king, by the pope's command and yours I have brought you my\nlady, the queen, as right requireth. If there be any knight, whatever\nhis degree, except your sacred self, who shall dare say she has been\nuntrue to you, I, Lancelot du Lake, stand ready to make her honor good\nwith my body. To liars you have listened, and that has caused all the\ntrouble between you and me. Time has been, my lord Arthur, when you have\nbeen greatly pleased with me in that I did battle for my lady your\nqueen. Full well you know, my most royal sir, that she has been put to\ngreat wrong before this time; and since it pleased you then that I\nshould fight for her, it seems to me that I had still more cause this\nlast time to rescue her from the fire, since she was to have been burnt\nfor my sake. Had not the might of God been with me, think you that I\ncould, unarmed, have prevailed over fourteen armed knights? I was sent\nfor by the queen, who wished to confer with me, but had barely stepped\nwithin her chamber, when out burst Mordred and Agravaine, calling me\ntraitor and recreant knight.\"\n\n\"They called you truly,\" said Gawaine.\n\n\"Did they so, Gawaine? By heaven, in their quarrel they failed to prove\nthemselves in the right.\"\n\n\"I have given you no cause to do evil to me, Lancelot,\" said the king.\n\"For I have loved you and yours more than all my other knights.\"\n\n\"My good lord and liege,\" answered Lancelot, \"I beg it may not displease\nyou if I answer that you have better cause to love me and mine than most\nknights, for none have done you such service as we have at many times\nand in many places. Often have I myself rescued you from deadly peril,\nwhen you were hard pressed by your foes; and it has ever been my joy to\nplease you, and my lord Gawaine as well, in jousts and tournaments, and\nin set battles, both on horse and on foot. I wish not to boast of my\ndeeds, yet you all know well that I never met a knight but that I was\nable to stand against him, and have always done my duty like a man. I\nhave been matched with good knights, such as Sir Tristram and Sir\nLamorak, whom I loved for their valor and honesty. And I take God to\nwitness, that I was never angry with or jealous of any good knight whom\nI saw active to win honor, and was ever glad at heart when I found a\nknight who was able to endure me on horseback or on foot. Sir Carados of\nthe dolorous tower was a noble knight and a man of mighty strength, and\nthis you know full well, Sir Gawaine, since he pulled you from your\nhorse, and bound you before him on his saddle. Yet I rescued you from\nhim, and slew him before your eyes. In like manner I found his brother,\nSir Turquine, leading your brother, Sir Gaheris, bound on his saddle,\nand slew him, and rescued your brother, as also three-score and four of\nKing Arthur's knights whom he held in prison. Never met I with as strong\nand hard-fighting knights as Sir Carados and Sir Turquine, and I fought\nwith them to the uttermost for the sake of you and your brother. It\nseems to me, Sir Gawaine, that you ought to bear in mind this good\nservice I did for you in the past. If I might but have your good will in\nreturn, I would trust to God to have my lord Arthur's kindly grace.\"\n\n\"The king may do as he will,\" said Gawaine; \"but while I live I shall\nnever be in accord with you. I cannot forget that you have killed three\nof my brothers, two of them treacherously and pitilessly, for they wore\nno armor against you, and refused to bear any.\"\n\n\"Would to heaven they had been armed, for then they would now be alive,\"\nsaid Lancelot. \"I tell you this, Sir Gawaine, that I love none of my own\nkinsmen as I did your brother, Sir Gareth, and would far rather have\nslain myself than him. Never while I live shall I cease to mourn his\ndeath, not alone for your bitter sorrow and anger, but for other causes\nwhich concern myself. One is, that it was I who made him a knight;\nanother is, that he loved me above all other knights; a third is, that\nhe was ever noble, true, courteous, and gentle. I never would have\nslain, or even hurt, either Gareth or Gaheris by my will; and sad at\nheart am I that this fatal chance has robbed me of your love and made\nundying war between us, and has caused my noble lord and king to be my\nmortal foe. May Jesus forgive me for this cruel chance, which the fates\nhave laid upon me. In reparation for this sad misfortune, I shall freely\noffer, if it will please the king's good grace, and yours, my lord\nGawaine, to do penance in this wise. I shall start from Sandwich, and go\nin my shirt, barefoot, and at every ten miles' end I shall found a\nreligious house, of what order you wish, where shall be sung and read\nday and night psalms and masses for the repose of Sir Gareth and Sir\nGaheris. This I shall perform from Sandwich to Carlisle. This, Sir\nGawaine, seems to me fairer, holier, and better for their souls than\nthat you and the king should make war upon me; for little good to any is\nlikely to come from it.\"\n\nThen the knights and ladies there wept as though they were distracted,\nand the tears fell hot on King Arthur's cheeks. But no shadow of\nsoftness came to Gawaine's stern face.\n\n\"The king, as I have said, may do as it pleases him,\" he answered, \"but\nI shall never forgive you for the murder of my brothers. If my uncle,\nKing Arthur, accords with you, he shall lose my service, for I hold you\nfalse both to the king and me.\"\n\n\"The man lives not that can make that good,\" cried Lancelot. \"If you\ncharge me thus, I am ready to answer you with spear and sword since\nwords you disdain.\"\n\n\"That cannot be at this time,\" said Gawaine. \"You are here under the\nking's safe-conduct, and so must depart. If it were not for the pope's\ncommand and the king's given word, I should do battle with you, body to\nbody, and prove upon you that you have been false both to the king and\nto me. In this land you shall not abide more than fifteen days, for I\ngive you open warning that your safe-conduct lasts only for that time.\nIn this the king and we all were agreed before you came hither. Only for\nthis you would now find that my words are ready to be backed up with\ndeeds. And this you shall find wheresoever I shall meet you hereafter.\"\n\nThen Lancelot sighed, and tears fell upon his cheeks.\n\n\"Alas, most Christian realm,\" he said, \"that I have loved above all\nother realms, and most Christian king, whom I have worshipped next to my\nGod. From both I am banished, without cause or warrant. Truly I am sorry\nthat I ever came into this land, to be thus causelessly and shamefully\ntreated, after my long service here. So is it ever with fortune, whose\nwheel is so changeable that there is no constant abiding; and this may\nbe proved by the old chronicles of noble Hector of Troy, and Troilus,\nand Alexander the mighty conqueror, and many more. When they were\nhighest they quickly became lowest; and thus has it fared with me. No\nliving men have brought more honor and glory to the Round Table than I\nand my kindred, and yet we stand banished from the land which owes us\nsuch worthy service. As for you, Gawaine, I can live upon my native\nlands as well as any knight here. And if you, redoubted king, shall seek\nme there in hostile array, I must endure you as well as I may. If you\ncome thither, Gawaine, see that you charge me not with treason or\nfelony, for if you do, it will scarcely end with words.\"\n\n\"Do your worst,\" cried Gawaine, hotly. \"And get you gone from here as\nfast as you can. We shall soon come after, and tumble your strongest\ncastle upon your head.\"\n\n\"That shall not need,\" said Lancelot. \"You may find me ready to meet you\nin open field.\"\n\n\"There have been words enough,\" said Gawaine. \"Deliver the queen and\ntake yourself away.\"\n\n\"If I had looked for so short a reception I would have thought twice\nbefore coming,\" answered Lancelot, proudly. \"If the queen had been as\ndear to me as you would make her, I durst have kept her from the best\nfellowship of knights under heaven.\"\n\nThen he turned to Guenever and said, in full hearing of the king and all\nthere,--\n\n\"Madam, now I must depart from you and this noble fellowship forever.\nSince it is so, I beseech you to pray for me. And if you be slandered by\nany false tongues, send me word, my lady, and if one knight's hands may\ndeliver you by battle, I shall deliver you.\"\n\nThen Lancelot kissed the queen, and said openly to all present,--\n\n\"Now let me see who there is in this place that dare say Queen Guenever\nis not true unto my lord King Arthur! Let him speak who dare speak.\"\n\nHe looked proudly around the hall, from right to left, but no voice came\nin answer. Then he took the queen by the hand and led her to the king,\nand delivered her to his royal hand. This done, Lancelot turned and\nwalked from the hall with haughty stride; and there was neither duke,\nearl, nor king, baron nor knight, lady or maiden, that wept not at the\nsorrowful parting, except Sir Gawaine. And when Lancelot took his horse\nto ride out of Carlisle there was sobbing and weeping from all the\npeople who had gathered in the streets to see him depart. And so he took\nhis way to Joyous Gard, which ever after he called Dolorous Gard. And\nthus departed Sir Lancelot du Lake from the court of King Arthur\nforever.\n\nHe now called his fellowship about him, and asked them what they would\ndo.\n\n\"Whatever you will,\" they answered with one voice.\n\n\"Then, my brave and faithful friends, we must leave this realm. It is\nsore to me to be banished, and had I not dreaded shame, the lady\nGuenever should never have left me.\"\n\n\"If you stay in this land we shall not fail you,\" said his knights. \"If\nyou depart hence we shall go with you.\"\n\n\"My fair lords, I thank you heartily,\" answered Lancelot, with much\nfeeling. \"If you come with me to my realm beyond the sea, I shall divide\nmy lands among you, till I have as little as any of you. I care for\nonly enough to live upon, and trust to maintain you in knightly honor.\"\n\n\"So let it be,\" they rejoined. \"Here, now that the fellowship of the\nRound Table is broken, there will be no more peace, but only strife and\nturmoil. You were the stay of Arthur's court, Sir Lancelot. With you\ngone, all quiet and harmony will depart.\"\n\n\"You praise me too highly, gentlemen. I did my duty; but not I alone.\nYet I fear, when we are gone, we will soon hear of wars and rebellions,\nfrom those who dared not raise their heads when we were all together.\nMordred I fear above all. He is envious and ambitious, and if King\nArthur shall trust him I dread me greatly he will find him a stinging\nserpent.\"\n\nThen, soon after, they left Joyous Gard, and shipped at Cardiff to pass\nbeyond the seas to Lancelot's realm of Benwick. Some men, indeed, call\nit Bayonne, and some call it Beume, the land whence comes the wine of\nBeume. Yet to say sooth, Lancelot and his nephews were lords of all\nFrance, and had there a host of towns and castles, and many people at\ntheir command.\n\nThere went with him a hundred proven knights, whom he rewarded as he had\npromised. For he shortly called a parliament, where he crowned Lionel\nking of France. Bors he made king of the realm of King Claudas; and\nHector de Maris, King of Benwick and Guienne; while his other knights\nwere made dukes and earls, till all were nobly provided for.\n\nThus Lancelot rewarded his faithful friends. And he furnished and\nprovisioned his towns and castles, and gathered the men of war of the\nrealm, for he felt well assured that Gawaine would not rest till he had\nbrought King Arthur against him in martial array.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE WAR BETWEEN ARTHUR AND LANCELOT.\n\n\nWhat Lancelot had feared came quickly to pass. For so unrelenting was\nGawaine's enmity, and so strong his influence over the king, that\nArthur, at his persistent instigation, got together a great army, to the\nnumber of sixty thousand, and had shipping made ready to carry them over\nthe sea.\n\nThen he made Sir Mordred chief ruler of all England during his absence,\nand put Queen Guenever under his care, little dreaming of what fatal\nresults would follow this unwise choice.\n\nThese preparations made, Arthur passed the sea with his host, and landed\nin Lancelot's realm, where, through the revengeful spirit of Gawaine,\nthey burnt and wasted all that they overran.\n\nWhen word of this was brought to Lancelot and his knights, Sir Bors thus\nbroke out in anger,--\n\n\"My lord Sir Lancelot, it is a shame to let them thus destroy this fair\nrealm of France. You may well be assured that, however long you forbear\nyour foes, they will do you no favor if you fall into their hands.\"\n\nThen said Sir Lionel, who was wary and wise, \"My lord Sir Lancelot, this\nis my counsel. Let us keep to our strong-walled towns till the invaders\nsuffer from hunger and cold, and blow upon their nails for warmth. Then\nwe may freshly set upon them, and shred them down like sheep in a\nfield.\"\n\n\"Such a course would disgrace us all,\" said King Bagdemagus to Lancelot.\n\"Your over-courtesy has caused all the trouble we now have. If we let\nGawaine work his will, he will bring our power to naught, while we hide\nlike rabbits in our holes.\"\n\n\"So say I,\" broke in Sir Galihud. \"There are knights here who come of\nkings' blood, and that will not long be content to droop behind walls.\nGive us leave to meet them in the field, and we shall deal with them in\nsuch fashion that they will curse the time they came into this country.\"\n\nThen spoke seven brethren of North Wales, men of such prowess that one\nmight seek through seven lands before he could find seven such\nknights,--\n\n\"Sir Lancelot,\" they said together, \"let us ride out with Sir Galihud,\nfor it has never been our wont to cower in towns and castles.\"\n\n\"My fair lords,\" replied Lancelot to them all, \"I am loath to ride out\nwith my knights and shed Christian blood. And my lands, after all the\nwars they have endured, are too bare long to sustain this invading host.\nIt is the part of wisdom, therefore, for the time to keep to our walls,\nand meanwhile I will send a messenger to King Arthur and offer him a\ntreaty of peace.\"\n\nThen he sent a damsel to the king, and a dwarf with her, with a message,\nbidding Arthur to quit making war upon his lands, and offering him fair\nterms of accommodation. The damsel rode to the hostile camp on a palfry,\nwhile the dwarf ran by her side. When she came near to King Arthur's\npavilion she alighted, and there was met by a gentle knight, Sir Lucan\nthe butler, who said,--\n\n\"Fair damsel, come you from Sir Lancelot du Lake?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" she replied, \"I am come hither with a message from him to my\nlord the king.\"\n\n\"Alas, that it should be needed!\" said Sir Lucan. \"My lord Arthur would\nsoon be in accord with Lancelot but for Gawaine, who has more influence\nover him than all his knights besides, and will not suffer him to think\nof peace and friendship. I pray to God, damsel, that you speed well in\nyour errand, for all that are about the king, except Sir Gawaine, wish\nwell to Lancelot above all knights living.\"\n\nWith these words he led the damsel to the king's pavilion. There Arthur,\nwho had been advised of her coming, sat with Gawaine to hear her\nmessage. When she had told her errand the king was so moved that tears\nran from his eyes, and all the lords were ready to advise him to make\npeace with Lancelot. But Gawaine, who sat with lowering brow, now broke\nout in hot speech,--\n\n\"My lord, my uncle, what will you do? Will you turn again after having\ncome so far? All the world will speak villany of you.\"\n\n\"I do not deem it wise to refuse his fair proffers,\" said the king.\n\"Yet since I am come so far on this journey, I leave it to you to give\nthe damsel her answer.\"\n\n\"Then tell Sir Lancelot,\" said Gawaine to the damsel, \"that he wastes\nhis labor now to sue to my uncle. If he wished peace he should have\nsought it sooner. Now it is too late. Tell him, also, that I, Sir\nGawaine, promise him, by the faith I owe to God and to knighthood, never\nto leave him in peace till he have slain me or I him.\"\n\nThis word the damsel brought back to Lancelot, where he stood among his\nknights, and sad of heart he was to hear it.\n\n\"Why do you grieve?\" said the knights. \"If war they want, let them have\nit to their fill. Let us meet them in the field.\"\n\n\"Never before was I so loath to do battle,\" said Lancelot. \"I would\nrather flee from King Arthur than fight him. Be ruled by me, noble sirs.\nWhen I must defend myself, then I will; but haste will make fresh\nsorrow.\"\n\nThen the knights held their peace, and that night took their rest. But\nin the morning, when they looked abroad, they saw a hostile host around\nthe city of Benwick, pressing it so closely that ladders were already\nset up against the walls. The defenders of the town flocked in haste to\nthe walls and threw down the ladders, and hot strife began.\n\nForth now rode Sir Gawaine on a strong steed, and with a great spear in\nhis hand, and when he came before the chief gate he called out loudly,--\n\n\"Sir Lancelot, where art thou? Or what proud knight is here that dare\nbreak a spear with me?\"\n\nHearing this challenge, Sir Bors hastily made ready, and rode from the\ncity to the encounter. But Gawaine smote him from his horse, and would\nhave slain him had he not been rescued. Then Lionel, his brother, rode\nout to revenge him; but he, too, was sorely wounded, and so borne into\nthe town.\n\nAnd thus, day after day, came Gawaine with his challenge, and not a day\npassed but some knight fell before his spear. And for half a year the\nsiege continued, and there was much slaughter on both sides.\n\nAt length came a day when Gawaine again appeared before the gates, armed\nat all points, and loudly cried,--\n\n\"Where art thou now, thou false traitor, Sir Lancelot? Why hidest thou\nwithin walls and holes like a coward? Come forth, traitor, that I may\nrevenge on thy body the death of my three brothers?\"\n\nThen said Lancelot's knights to their leader,--\n\n\"Now, Sir Lancelot, you must fight, or you are shamed forever. It is\ntime for you to stir, for you have slept over long and we suffered over\nmuch.\"\n\n\"Defend myself I must, since he charges me with treason,\" said Lancelot.\n\"His words cut deeply, and I must fight or be held recreant,\" and with\nstern countenance he bade the attendants to saddle his strongest horse\nand bring his arms to the gate tower. Then from this tower he called to\nthe king, who stood below,--\n\n\"My lord Arthur,\" he said, \"sad am I, for your sake, that thus you press\nupon me. Had I been revengeful I might have met you in open field, and\nthere made your boldest knights full tame; but I have forborne you half\na year, and given you and Gawaine free way. It is much against my will\nto fight with any of your blood, but since he accuses me of treason I am\ndriven to it like a beast brought to bay.\"\n\n\"If you dare do battle,\" cried Gawaine, \"leave your babbling and come\nout. Nothing will give deeper joy to my heart, for I have waited long\nfor this hour.\"\n\nAt this Lancelot mounted and rode out, and a host of knights followed\nhim from the city, while from the king's army a throng of knights\npressed to the front. But covenant was made that none should come near\nthe two warriors till one was dead or had yielded, and the knights drew\nback, leaving a broad open space for the combatants.\n\nGawaine and Lancelot now rode far apart, and wheeled their horses till\nthey faced each other. Thus they stood in grim silence and energy till\nthe signal for the onset was given, when, like iron statues come to\nlife, they plunged their spurs in the flanks of their chargers and\ndashed at furious speed across the plain. A minute passed, and they met\nin the middle with a shock like thunder, but the knights were so strong\nand their spears so great, that the horses could not endure the buffets,\nand fell to the earth.\n\nIn a moment both knights had leaped clear of their saddles, drawn their\nswords, and brought their shields before them. And now began a fierce\nand terrible affray, for they stood and hewed at each other with might\nand main, till blood burst in many places through the joints of their\narmor.\n\nBut Gawaine had a gift that a holy man had given him, that every day in\nthe year, from nine o'clock till noon, his strength should increase till\nit became threefold. And he took good care to fight all his battles\nduring these hours, whereby he gained great honor.\n\nNone knew of this gift but King Arthur, and as Lancelot felt the\nstrength of his antagonist constantly increasing, he wondered greatly,\nand began to fear that he would be overcome. It seemed to him that he\nhad a fiend, and no earthly man, before him, and for three hours he\ntraced and traversed, and covered himself with his shield, scarcely able\nto stand against the brunt of Gawaine's mighty blows. At this all men\nmarvelled, for never before had they beheld Lancelot so sorely driven to\ndefence.\n\nBut when the hour of noon had passed, the magic might of Gawaine\nsuddenly left him, and he had now only his own strength. This Lancelot\nfelt, and he drew himself up and pressed on his foe, saying,--\n\n\"You have had your day, Gawaine; now it is my turn. Defend yourself, for\nI have many a grievous buffet to repay.\"\n\nThen he redoubled his strokes, and at length gave Gawaine such a blow on\nthe helmet that he fell to the earth. Lancelot now withdrew a step.\n\n\"Why do you withdraw?\" cried Gawaine, bitterly. \"Turn, thou traitor, and\nslay me; for if I recover you shall fight with me again.\"\n\n\"It is not my way, Sir Gawaine, to strike a fallen knight. When you\nwant to fight again you shall not find me lacking.\"\n\nThen he turned and went with his knights into the city, while Gawaine\nwas borne from the field to one of the king's pavilions, where leeches\nwere brought to attend him.\n\n\"Alas!\" said the king, \"that ever this unhappy war began, for Sir\nLancelot ever forbeareth me, and my kin also, and that is well seen in\nhis sparing my nephew Gawaine this day.\"\n\nThen Arthur fell sick from sorrow for the hurt of his nephew and regret\nfor the war. The siege was kept up, but with little energy, and both\nsides rested from their toils.\n\nThree weeks passed before Gawaine regained his strength; but as soon as\nhe was able to ride he armed again, mounted his horse, and rode to the\ngate of Benwick, where he loudly repeated his challenge to Lancelot as a\ntraitor and recreant knight.\n\n\"You got the best of me by mischance at our last battle,\" he said, \"but\nif you dare come into the field this day I will make amends, and lay you\nas low as you laid me.\"\n\n\"Defend me from such a fate,\" said Lancelot, \"for if you should get me\ninto such a strait my days were done. But since you in this unknightly\nfashion charge me with treason, I warrant you shall have both hands full\nbefore you gain your end.\"\n\nThen Lancelot armed and rode out, and the battle began as before, with a\ncircle of armed knights surrounding. But in this onset Gawaine's spear\nbroke into a hundred pieces in his hand, while Lancelot struck him with\nsuch might that his horse's feet were raised, and horse and rider\ntoppled to the earth.\n\n\"Alight, traitor knight!\" cried Gawaine, drawing his sword. \"If a horse\nhas failed me, think not that a king and queen's son shall fail thee.\"\n\nThen Lancelot sprang to the ground and the battle went on as before,\nGawaine's strength increasing hour by hour. But Lancelot, feeling this,\nwarily kept his strength and his wind, keeping under cover of his\nshield, and tracing and traversing back and forth, to break the strength\nand courage of his foe.\n\nAs for Gawaine, he put forth all his might and power to destroy\nLancelot, and for three hours pressed him so fiercely that he could\nbarely defend himself. But when noon passed, and Lancelot felt Gawaine's\nstrength again decline, he said,--\n\n\"I have proved you twice, Sir Gawaine. By this magic trick of your\nstrength increasing you have deceived many a valiant knight. You have\ndone your worst; now you shall see of what metal I am made.\"\n\nThen he attacked him fiercely, and Gawaine defended himself with all his\npower; but at length there fell such a heavy blow on his helmet and on\nthe old wound, that he sank to the earth in a swoon. When he came to\nhimself again, he struck feebly at Lancelot as he lay, and cried\nspitefully,--\n\n\"Thou false traitor, I am not yet slain. Come near me, and do this\nbattle to the uttermost.\"\n\n\"I shall do no more than I have done,\" said Lancelot. \"When I see you on\nyour feet again I shall stand ready to fight you to the bitter end. But\nto smite a wounded and prostrate man!--God defend me from such a shame.\"\n\nAnd he turned and went towards the city, while Gawaine with spiteful\nmalice called him traitor, and vowed he would never cease to fight with\nhim till one of them was dead.\n\nA month now passed away, during which Gawaine lay sick of his wound. As\nhe slowly recovered, the old battle-hunger for Lancelot's blood returned\nto his heart, and he impatiently awaited the day when he could again\ntake the field. But before this day arrived, news came from England that\nput a sudden end to the war; tidings of such threatening aspect that\nKing Arthur was forced to return in all haste to his own realm.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE STING OF THE VIPER.\n\n\nDisastrous, indeed, were the news from England. King Arthur had made the\nfatal mistake of placing a villain and dastard in charge of his realm,\nfor Mordred had taken advantage of his absence to turn traitor, and seek\nto seize the crown and sceptre of England as his own.\n\nNews moved but slowly from over seas in those days, and Mordred, with\ntreasonable craft, had letters written as though they came from abroad,\nwhich said that King Arthur had been slain in battle with Sir Lancelot.\n\nHaving spread this lie far and wide, he called the lords together to\nLondon in parliament, and so managed that they voted him king. Then he\nwas crowned at Canterbury, and held a feast for fifteen days, after\nwhich he went to Winchester, where Guenever was, and publicly declared\nthat he would wed his uncle's widow.\n\nWhen word of this came to Guenever she grew heavy at heart, for she\nhated the traitor to her soul's depth. But she was in his power, and was\nforced to hide her secret hate. She therefore seemed to consent to his\nwill, and desired permission to go to London, where she might buy all\nthings that were necessary for the wedding. She spoke so fairly that he\ntrusted her, and gave her leave to make the journey.\n\nBut no sooner had she reached London than she took possession of the\nTower, and with all haste supplied it with provisions and garrisoned it\nwith men, and so held it as a fortress, many knights holding with her\nagainst the usurper.\n\nMordred soon learned that he had been beguiled by the queen, and, moved\nto fury, he hastened to London, where he besieged the Tower, assailing\nit vigorously with great engines of war. But Guenever held out stoutly\nagainst him, and neither by fair speech nor foul could he induce her to\ntrust herself into his hands again.\n\n[Illustration: THE TOWER OF LONDON.]\n\nThere now came to Mordred the bishop of Canterbury, who said,--\n\n\"Sir, what would you do? Would you displease God and shame knighthood\nby wedding the wife of your uncle, who has been to you as a father?\nCease this vile purpose, I command you, or I shall curse you with book,\nand bell, and candle, and bring upon your head the vengeance of the\nchurch.\"\n\n\"Do your worst, sir priest,\" said Mordred, angrily. \"I defy you.\"\n\n\"I shall do what I ought; be sure of that. You noise about that the lord\nArthur is slain, no word of which I believe. You seek with a lie to make\nmischief in this land. Beware, lest your vile work recoil upon\nyourself.\"\n\n\"Peace, thou false priest,\" cried Mordred. \"Chafe me no more, or I shall\norder that thy head be stricken off.\"\n\nFinding that words were useless, the bishop departed, and, as he had\nthreatened, laid the curse of the church on Mordred. Roused to rage by\nthis, the usurper sought him to slay him, and he fled in all haste to\nGlastonbury, where he took refuge as a hermit in a chapel. But well he\nknew that war was at hand, and that the rightful king would soon strike\nfor the throne.\n\nDespite the anathema of the church, Mordred continued his efforts to get\nGuenever into his power; but she held firmly to the Tower, repelling all\nhis assaults, and declaring openly that she would rather kill herself\nthan marry such a wretch. Soon afterwards he was forced to raise the\nsiege, for word came to him by secret messengers that Arthur had heard\nof his treason, and was coming home with his whole host to revenge\nhimself on the usurper of his crown.\n\nWhen Mordred heard this he made strenuous efforts to gather a large\narmy, and many lords joined him with their people, saying that with\nArthur there had been nothing but war and strife, but that with Mordred\nthey hoped for peace and a quiet life. Thus was evil said of the good\nKing Arthur when he was away from the land, and that by many who owed to\nhim their honors and estates. Mordred was thus quickly able to draw with\na great host to Dover, where he had heard that Arthur would land, for he\nhoped to defeat and slay him before he could get firm footing on\nEngland's soil.\n\nNot long had he been there when a great fleet of ships, galleys, and\ncarracks appeared upon the sea, bearing the king's army back to their\nnative realm. On the beach stood Mordred's host, drawn up to prevent the\nlanding of the king's army. As the boats came to the shore, laden with\nnoble men-of-arms, a fierce struggle ensued, in which many a knight was\nslain, while full many a bold baron was laid low on both sides. But so\ncourageous was the king, and so fierce the onset of his knights, that\nthe opposing host could not hinder the landing of his army. And when\nthey had gained a footing on the land, they set on Mordred with such\nfury that he and all his host were driven back and forced to fly,\nleaving Arthur master of the field.\n\nAfter the battle, the king ordered that the dead should be buried and\nthe wounded cared for. Among the latter Sir Gawaine was found lying in a\ngreat boat, where he had been felled with a deadly wound in the bitter\nstrife. On hearing this direful news, Arthur hastened to him and took\nhim in his arms, with great show of grief and pain.\n\n\"In you and in Lancelot I had my highest joy,\" moaned the king. \"Now I\nhave lost you both, and all my earthly happiness is gone.\"\n\n\"My death is at hand,\" said Gawaine, \"and I owe it all to my own hate\nand bitterness for I am smitten on the old wound that Lancelot gave me,\nand feel that I must die. Had he but been with you this unhappy war\nwould never have begun. Of all this I am the cause, and have but\nreceived my deserts. Therefore I pray you, dear uncle, let me have\npaper, pen, and ink, that I may write to Sir Lancelot with my own hand.\"\n\nThese were brought him, and Gawaine wrote a moving and tender letter to\nLancelot, blaming himself severely for his hardness of heart.\n\nIn this wise it ran,--\n\n\"Unto Sir Lancelot, flower of all noble knights, I, Sir Gawaine, son of\nKing Lot of Orkney, and sister's son unto the noble King Arthur, send\ngreeting; and also these sad tidings, that on the tenth day of May I was\nsmitten on the old wound which you gave me at Benwick, and thus through\nthis wound have I come to my death. And I would have all the world know\nthat I, Sir Gawaine, Knight of the Round Table, have met with death not\nthrough your ill-will, but from my own seeking; therefore I beseech you\nto come in all haste to this realm, to which you have heretofore done\nsuch honor. I earnestly pray you, Sir Lancelot, for all the love that\never was betwixt us, make no tarrying, but come over the sea in all\nhaste, that thou mayest with thy noble knights rescue that royal king\nwho made thee knight, for he is hard bested with a false traitor, my own\nhalf-brother, Sir Mordred, who has had himself crowned king, and would\nhave wedded Queen Guenever had she not taken refuge in the Tower of\nLondon. We put him to flight on our landing, on the tenth day of May,\nbut he still holds against us with a great host. Therefore, I pray you\nto come, for I am within two hours of my death; and I beg that you will\nvisit my tomb, and pray some prayer, more or less, for my soul.\"\n\nWhen Sir Gawaine had finished this letter he wept bitter tears of sorrow\nand remorse, and Arthur wept beside him till they both swooned, the one\nfrom grief, the other from pain. When they recovered, the king had the\nrites of the church administered to the dying knight, who then prayed\nhim to send in haste for Lancelot, and to cherish him above all other\nknights, as his best friend and ally.\n\nAfterwards, at the hour of noon, Gawaine yielded up his spirit. And the\nking had him interred in Dover castle, where men to this day may see his\nskull, with the wound thereon that Lancelot gave him in battle.\n\nWord was now brought to King Arthur that Mordred had pitched a new camp\non Barham Down. Thither in all haste he led his army, and there a second\ngreat battle was fought, with much loss on both sides. But at the end\nArthur's party stood best, and Mordred fled, with all his host, to\nCanterbury.\n\nThis second victory changed the feeling of the country, and many people\nwho had held aloof joined the king's army, saying that Mordred was a\ntraitor and usurper. When the dead had been buried and the wounded cared\nfor, Arthur marched with his host to the sea-shore, westward towards\nSalisbury. Here a challenge passed between him and Mordred, in which\nthey agreed to meet on a down beside Salisbury, on the day after Trinity\nSunday, and there fight out their quarrel.\n\nMordred now made haste to recruit his army, raising many men about\nLondon, for the people of that section of the country held largely with\nhim, and particularly those who were friendly to Lancelot. When the time\nfixed came near, the two armies drew together and camped on Salisbury\nDown.\n\nAnd so the days passed till came the night of Trinity Sunday, when the\nking dreamed a strange dream, for it seemed to him that he sat in a\nchair that was fastened to a wheel, and was covered with the richest\ncloth of gold that could be made. But far beneath him he beheld a\nhideous black pool, in which were all manner of serpents, and vile\nworms, foul and horrible. Suddenly the wheel seemed to turn, and he fell\namong the serpents, which seized upon his limbs.\n\nAwakening in fright, he loudly cried, \"Help!\" and knights and squires\ncame crowding in alarm into his chamber; but he was so amazed that he\nknew not where he was nor what he said.\n\nThen he fell again into a half slumber, in which Gawaine seemed to come\nto him attended by a number of fair ladies.\n\n\"Fair nephew,\" asked the king, \"who are these ladies?\"\n\n\"They are those for whom I did battle during my life,\" answered Gawaine.\n\"God has sent them and me to warn you of your coming death, for if you\nfight with Mordred to-morrow as you have agreed, you will both be slain,\nand most of your people. Therefore I am here to warn you not to fight\nto-morrow, but to treat with the traitor, and make him large and fair\npromises, so as to gain a month's delay. Within that time Lancelot and\nhis knights will come, and Mordred the usurper cannot hold against you\nboth.\"\n\nThis said, Gawaine and the ladies vanished. Then Arthur waked, and sent\nmessengers in haste to bring his lords and bishops to council. When they\nhad come he told them his dream, and they counselled him by all means to\nbe guided by it. Lucan the butler, and his brother Sir Bevidere, with\ntwo bishops, were therefore sent to treat with Mordred, and make him\nlarge promises for a month's truce.\n\nThe commissioners sought Mordred's camp and held a long conference with\nhim. At the end he agreed to meet King Arthur on the plain between the\nhosts, each to bring but fourteen persons with him, and there consult on\nthe treaty.\n\n\"I am glad that this is accomplished,\" said the king, when word of the\ncompact was brought him.\n\nBut when he was ready to start for the place of conference, with the\nfourteen chosen men, he said to his knights,--\n\n\"Be wary and watchful, for I trust not Mordred. If you see any sword\ndrawn, come fiercely forward, and slay the villain and his guard.\"\n\nMordred gave the same warning to his lords, for he had equal mistrust of\nArthur, whom he feared and doubted.\n\nThe two leaders, with their chosen followers, now advanced and met\nbetween the hosts. But by a fatal chance, as the king and his opponent\nwere in consultation, an adder came from a heath bush and stung a knight\non the foot. Feeling the wound he drew his sword in thoughtless haste to\nkill the venomous serpent. But the instant the hosts on both sides saw\nthat sword flash in the air all was uproar and tumult. On both sides\ntrumpets and horns were blown, harness rattled and clanked, and the\nflash of spear-heads and sword-blades gleamed in the sunlight, while\nlike two mighty waves of war the great hosts broke from their stations\nand rushed together across the plain.\n\nThen Arthur sprang to his horse, exclaiming, \"Alas! this unhappy day!\"\nand rode to his party; and Mordred did likewise.\n\nNo hand nor voice could stay the advancing hosts, and in a moment there\nbegan the most doleful battle ever seen in Christian land. For there was\nrushing and riding, foining and striking, and deadly clamor, and fearful\nstrife. Many a grim word was there spoken, and many a deadly stroke\ndealt. Many times King Arthur rode through Mordred's host, and knightly\nwere the deeds of his hands. And Mordred fought with knightly valor and\nzeal.\n\nThus went on the deadly fray all day long, without pause or stint, till\nnoble knights lay like fallen leaves upon the bloody ground. And when\nnightfall was at hand they still fought with desperate valor, though by\nthat time full a hundred thousand men lay dead upon the down.\n\nThen the heart of Arthur grew full of warlike fury, to see so many of\nhis people slain. And when the sun was near its setting, he leaned upon\nhis crimson sword, and looked about him with eyes that seemed to weep\nblood. For of all his mighty host of knights but two remained alive, Sir\nLucan the butler, and his brother Sir Bevidere; and both of these were\nsorely wounded.\n\n\"God's mercy!\" cried the king, \"where are all my noble knights? Alas!\nthat I have lived to see this doleful day! Now, indeed, am I come to my\nend. But would to God I knew where to find that traitor, Mordred, who\nhas caused all this mischief.\"\n\nAs he spoke, his eyes fell on Mordred, who stood leaning upon his sword\namid a great heap of slain, for his host had been slaughtered to a man.\n\n\"Give me my spear,\" cried Arthur, wrathfully, to Sir Lucan. \"Yonder\nstands the traitor who has wrought this dire woe.\"\n\n\"Let him be,\" said Lucan. \"He is unhappy enough. Remember, my good lord,\nyour last night's dream, and what the spirit of Sir Gawaine told you.\nFor God's sake make an end of this fray. Blessed be God, we have won the\nfield; for here are three of us alive, while Mordred stands alone among\nhis dead. If you leave off now, the wicked day of destiny will pass and\nlife remain to you. Your time for revenge will come hereafter.\"\n\n\"Betide me life, betide me death,\" cried the king, \"this fray must end\nhere. Now that I see him yonder alone, he shall never escape my hands.\nOne or both of us shall die.\"\n\n\"Then God speed the just cause,\" said Bevidere.\n\nWith no word more Arthur took his spear in both hands, and ran furiously\nat Mordred, crying,--\n\n\"Traitor, now has thy day of death come!\"\n\nWhen Mordred heard him, he raised his dripping sword and ran to meet the\nking. Thus they met in mid-field, and King Arthur smote Mordred under\nthe shield, the spear piercing his body more than a fathom.\n\nMordred felt that he had his death-wound, but with a last impulse of\nfury in his felon soul he thrust himself, with all his strength, up to\nthe bur of King Arthur's spear. Then wielding his sword with both hands,\nhe struck the king so dread a blow on the side of the head that the\ntrenchant blade cut through the helmet and deep into the skull.\n\nWith this last and fatal stroke Mordred fell stark dead to the ground.\nAnd Arthur sank in a swoon to the earth, where he lay like one dead.\n\nThus sadly and direfully ended that dreadful war, with which came to a\nclose the flower of the days of chivalry, and the glorious and\nnever-to-be equalled fellowship of the Round Table, with all the mighty\ndeeds of prowess and marvels of adventure that to it belonged. For of\nthose noble knights, except Sir Lancelot and his kindred, only two\nlived, Sir Lucan the butler, and Sir Bevidere his brother, and of these\ntwo Sir Lucan was wounded unto death; and with them the illustrious King\nArthur, whose chivalrous soul had so long sustained this noble order of\nknighthood, lay bleeding piteously upon that direful field of blood.\n\nSir Lucan and Bevidere, with bitter tears of sorrow, lifted their\nhelpless king between them, and with great labor led him from that place\nof slaughter till they reached a small chapel near the sea-shore. Here,\nas the night drew on, the sound of many voices came to them, as if the\ndead had risen and were astir on the blood-stained field.\n\n\"What noise is this, Sir Lucan?\" said the king. \"Go, gentle friend, and\ntell me what it means.\"\n\nLucan went, and by the moonlight saw a throng of pillagers, who robbed\nthe dead bodies of money and jewels, killing for their riches those\nknights who were not quite dead. When he brought this news back to\nArthur, the king's sad heart came near to breaking.\n\n\"Alas! Lancelot,\" he said, \"how have I missed you this day. Alas! that I\never turned against you, for had you been here this fatal end could\nnever have been, nor those noble warriors left to be the prey of the\nwolves and jackals of the battle-field. Sorely have I erred and sadly\nhave I been repaid for my error. But now, alas, it is too late for\nregret or amendment, for the fellowship of the Round Table is at an end,\nand Arthur the king shall reign no more.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nTHE PASSING OF ARTHUR.\n\n\nWhen morning dawned, after that day of fate, Lucan and Bevidere took up\nthe king between them, and sought to bear him to the sea-shore, as he\nbade them do. But in the lifting the king swooned, and Lucan fell\nprostrate, the blood gushing anew from his wound.\n\nArthur lay long like one dead, and when he came to himself again he saw\nLucan lifeless at his feet, with foam upon his lips, and the ground\naround him deeply stained with his blood.\n\n\"Alas! this is a heavy sight to see,\" he said. \"He sought to help me\nwhen he stood most in need of help. He would not complain though his\nheart broke, and has given his life for mine. May Jesus have mercy on\nhis soul.\"\n\nBevidere stood beside him, weeping bitterly for the death of his\nbrother.\n\n\"Weep and mourn no more,\" said the king. \"It will not now avail. Could I\nlive, the death of Sir Lucan would grieve me evermore. But my time goeth\nfast, and there is that to do for which but few moments remain.\"\n\nThen he closed his eyes for a time, like one who sees visions; and when\nhe looked again there was that in his face which Bevidere could not\nfathom and his eyes were deep with meaning unrevealed.\n\n\"Now, my lord Bevidere,\" said the king, \"the end is at hand. Take thou\nmy good sword Excalibur, and go with it to yonder water-side. When thou\ncomest there, I charge thee throw it as far as thou canst into the\nwater; then come again and tell me what thing thou seest.\"\n\n\"Trust me, my lord and king, your command shall be obeyed,\" said\nBevidere.\n\nSo he took the sword and departed to the water-side. But as his eyes\nfell upon the noble weapon, whose pommel and haft were all of precious\nstones, a feeling of greed came upon him and he said to himself,--\n\n\"If I throw this rich sword into the water, no good can come of it, but\nonly harm and loss. Had I not better keep it for myself?\"\n\nMoved by this thought, he hid Excalibur under a tree, and returned to\nthe king, whom he told that he had thrown the sword into the water.\n\n\"What saw you there?\" asked the king.\n\n\"Sir, I saw nothing but the rippling waves.\"\n\n\"Then you speak untruly,\" said the king. \"You have not thrown the sword\nas I bade you. Go again, and obey my command, as you are to me dear and\ntrue. Spare not, but throw it in afar.\"\n\nBevidere thereupon went again, and took the sword in his hand. But the\nrich jewels so glittered in the sun that his greed came back more\nstrongly than before, and he deemed it a sin to throw into the sea that\nnoble blade. So he hid the sword again, and returned to the king with\nhis former tale.\n\n\"What sawest thou there?\" asked the king.\n\n\"Sir, I saw nothing but the waves that broke on the beach, and heard\nonly the roar of the surf.\"\n\n\"Ah, traitor! false and untrue art thou!\" cried the king. \"Thou hast\nbetrayed me twice. Who would have thought that thou, whom I held dear,\nand who art named a noble knight, would betray his king for the jewels\nof a sword? Go again, for thy long delay puts me in a great jeopardy of\nmy life. If now you do not as I have bidden, beware of me hereafter, for\ndead or alive I will have revenge upon you. Would you, Sir Bevidere, for\na shining blade, bring death and ruin to your king?\"\n\nThen Bevidere, heart-full of shame, hastened away, and took the sword,\nturning his eyes manfully away from its jewelled hilt. Binding the\ngirdle around it, with all the might of his arm he hurled the blade far\nout over the waves.\n\nThen came a marvel. For as he followed the sword with his eyes, he saw a\nhand and arm rise above the waves to meet the blade. The hand caught it\nby the hilt, and brandished it thrice in the air, and then vanished with\nit into the water.\n\nBevidere, much wondering, hurried back to the king, and told him what he\nhad seen.\n\n\"Now, Sir Bevidere, you have done as I bade you,\" said Arthur. \"But much\nprecious time have you lost. Help me hence, in God's name, for I fear\nthat I have tarried over-long.\"\n\nThen Bevidere took the king on his back and bore him to the water-side,\nand lo! there he saw another strange thing.\n\nFor close by the shore lay a little barge, which he had not seen before,\nand in it sat many fair ladies, among whom were three queens, who wore\nblack hoods, and wept with bitter sorrow when they saw King Arthur.\n\n\"Now help me into the barge,\" said the king.\n\nThis Sir Bevidere did as gently as he could. And the three queens\nreceived the dying monarch with deep mourning, and had him laid between\nthem, with his head on the lap of her who sat in the centre.\n\n\"Alas! dear brother, why have you tarried so long from me?\" said this\nqueen. \"Much harm I fear from this sad wound.\"\n\nAnd so they rowed from the land, while Bevidere stood on the shore sadly\nwatching the barge go from him.\n\n\"Ah, my lord Arthur,\" he cried, \"what shall become of me, now that you\ngo from me and leave me here alone among my enemies?\"\n\n\"Comfort thyself,\" said the king, \"and do what thou mayest, for in me\ncan no man henceforth put his trust. I go into the vale of Avilion, to a\nhappy summer island far over the sea, where I shall be healed of my\ngrievous wound. But when I shall come again no voice may tell. Mayhap I\nshall never come, but dwell forever in that sunny vale. If you never\nhear more of me, pray for my soul.\"\n\nThen again the queens and the ladies wept and moaned, and the barge\nmoved swiftly over the long waves and afar to sea, while Bevidere stood\nand watched it till it became a black speck on the waters. Then it\nvanished and was seen no more, and the lonely watcher cast himself upon\nthe beach, weeping like one who has lost all life's happiness.\n\nBut when night came near he turned and went wearily away, heavy with the\nweight of death that lay upon his soul, for he alone remained of\nyesterday's mighty hosts. All that night he journeyed through a great\nforest, and in the morning he found himself between two hoary cliffs,\nwith a chapel and a hermitage in the glen that lay between.\n\nIn this hermitage he found the holy man who had been archbishop of\nCanterbury, and who had come hither to escape Mordred's rage. With him\nBevidere stayed till he was cured of his wounds, and afterwards he put\non poor clothes, and served the hermit full lowly in fasting and\nprayers.\n\nBut as for the three queens who went with Arthur to the island of\nAvilion, the chronicles say that they were Morgan le Fay his sister, the\nqueen of Northgalis, and the queen of the Waste Lands. And with them was\nNimue, the lady of the lake. All were skilled in magic, but whither they\nbore King Arthur, or where lies the magical isle of Avilion, or if he\nshall come again, all this no man can say. These are of the secrets that\ntime alone can tell, and we only know that his coming is not yet.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nTHE DEATH OF LANCELOT AND GUENEVER.\n\n\nWhen word was brought to Lancelot du Lake that Mordred had usurped the\nthrone of England, had besieged Guenever in the Tower of London, and had\nsought to prevent Arthur from landing at Dover, his soul was moved to\nwrath and sorrow. And still more was he moved by the letter of Sir\nGawaine, with its pitiful self-reproach and earnest wistfulness.\n\n\"Is it a time for mourning?\" said Sir Bors to Lancelot. \"My counsel is\nthat you cross at once to England, visit Gawaine's tomb, as he requests,\nand then revenge my lord Arthur and my lady Guenever on this base\ntraitor, Mordred.\"\n\n\"It is well advised,\" said Lancelot. \"To England we must go in all\nhaste.\"\n\nThen ships and galleys were made ready with the greatest despatch, for\nLancelot and his host to pass over to England. And in good time he\nlanded at Dover, having with him seven kings and a mighty host of men.\n\nBut when he asked the people of Dover the news of the country, his heart\nwas filled with dismay to hear of the great battle on Salisbury Downs,\nwhere a hundred thousand men had died in a day, and of the death of\nArthur the king.\n\n\"Alas!\" said Lancelot, \"this is the heaviest tidings that ever mortal\nears heard. Would that I had been advised in good time. Nothing now\nremains to do. I have come too late. Fair sirs, I pray you to show me\nthe tomb of Sir Gawaine.\"\n\nThen they brought him into the castle of Dover, and showed him the tomb.\nLancelot fell on his knees before it, and wept, and prayed heartily for\nthe soul of him that lay within. And that night he made a funeral feast,\nto which all who came had flesh, fish, wine, and ale, and every man and\nwoman was given twelve pence. With his own hand he dealt them money in\na mourning gown; and ever he wept, and prayed for the soul of Sir\nGawaine.\n\nIn the morning, all the priests and clerks of the country round\ngathered, at his request, and sang a requiem mass before the tomb. And\nLancelot offered a hundred pounds, and each of the seven kings forty\npounds, and a thousand knights offered one pound each, this going on\nfrom morning till night. And Lancelot lay two nights on the tomb in\nprayer and weeping.\n\nOn the third day he called about him the kings, dukes, earls, barons,\nand knights of his train, and said to them,--\n\n\"My fair lords, I thank you all for coming into this country with me;\nbut we have come too late, and that I shall mourn while I live. But\nsince it is so, I shall myself ride and seek my lady Queen Guenever, for\nmen say that she has fled from London, and become a nun, and that she\nlives in deep penance, and in fasting, prayers, and almsgiving, and is\nsick almost unto death. Therefore, I pray you, await me here, and if I\ncome not again within fifteen days, then take ship and return to your\nown country.\"\n\n\"Is it wise for you to ride in this realm?\" said Sir Bors. \"Few friends\nwill you find here now.\"\n\n\"Be that as it may,\" said Lancelot, \"I shall go on my journey. Keep you\nstill here, for no man nor child shall go with me.\"\n\nNo boot was it to strive with him, and he departed and rode westerly, on\na seven or eight days' journey, asking of all people as he went. At last\nhe came to the nunnery where was Queen Guenever, who saw him as she\nwalked in the cloister, and swooned away, so that her ladies had work\nenough to keep her from falling. When she could speak, she said,--\n\n\"Ye marvel why I am so held. Truly, it is for the sight of yonder\nknight. Bid him come hither, I pray you.\"\n\nAnd when Sir Lancelot had come, she said to him with sweet and sad\nvisage,--\n\n\"Sir Lancelot, through our love has all this happened, and through it my\nnoble lord has come to his death. As for me, I am in a way to get my\nsoul's health. Therefore, I pray you heartily, for all the love that\never was between us, that you see me no more in the visage; but turn to\nthy kingdom again, and keep well thy realm from war and wrack. So well\nhave I loved you that my heart will not serve me to see you, for through\nyou and me is the flower of kings and knights destroyed. Therefore, Sir\nLancelot, go to thy realm, and take there a wife, and live with her in\njoy and bliss; and I beseech you heartily to pray to God for me, that I\nmay amend my mis-living.\"\n\n\"Nay, madam, I shall never take a wife,\" said Lancelot. \"Never shall I\nbe false to you; but the same lot you have chosen that shall I choose.\"\n\n\"If you will do so, I pray that you may,\" said the queen. \"Yet I cannot\nbelieve but that you will turn to the world again.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" he earnestly replied, \"in the quest of the Sangreal I would\nhave forsaken the world but for the service of your lord. If I had done\nso then with all my heart, I had passed all the knights on the quest\nexcept Galahad, my son. And had I now found you disposed to earthly\njoys, I would have begged you to come into my realm. But since I find\nyou turned to heavenly hopes, I, too, shall take to penance, and pray\nwhile my life lasts, if I can find any hermit, either gray or white, who\nwill receive me. Wherefore, madam, I pray you kiss me, and never more\nshall my lips touch woman's.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the queen, \"that shall I never do. But take you my blessing,\nand leave me.\"\n\nThen they parted. But hard of heart would he have been who had not wept\nto see their grief; for there was lamentation as deep as though they had\nbeen wounded with spears. The ladies bore the queen to her chamber, and\nLancelot took his horse and rode all that day and all that night in a\nforest, weeping.\n\nAt last he became aware of a hermitage and a chapel that stood between\ntwo cliffs, and then he heard a little bell ring to mass, so he rode\nthither and alighted, and heard mass.\n\nHe that sang mass was the archbishop of Canterbury, and with him was Sir\nBevidere. After the mass they conversed together, and when Bevidere had\ntold all his lamentable tale, Lancelot's heart almost broke with sorrow.\nHe flung his arms abroad, crying,--\n\n\"Alas! who may trust this world?\"\n\nThen he kneeled, and prayed the bishop to shrive and absolve him,\nbeseeching that he might accept him as his brother in the faith. To this\nthe bishop gladly consented, and he put a religious habit on Lancelot,\nwho served God there night and day with prayers and fastings.\n\nMeanwhile the army remained at Dover. But Lionel with fifteen lords rode\nto London to seek Lancelot. There he was assailed by Mordred's friends,\nand slain with many of his lords. Then Sir Bors bade the kings, with\ntheir followers, to return to France. But he, with others of Lancelot's\nkindred, set out to ride over all England in search of their lost\nleader.\n\nAt length Bors came by chance to the chapel where Lancelot was. As he\nrode by he heard the sound of a little bell that rang to mass, and\nthereupon alighted and entered the chapel. But when he saw Lancelot and\nBevidere in hermits' clothing his surprise was great, and he prayed for\nthe privilege to put on the same suit. Afterwards other knights joined\nthem, so that there were seven in all.\n\nThere they remained in penance for six years, and afterwards Sir\nLancelot took the habit of a priest, and for a twelvemonth he sang mass.\nBut at length came a night when he had a vision that bade him to seek\nAlmesbury, where he would find Guenever dead. Thrice that night was the\nvision repeated, and Lancelot rose before day and told the hermit of\nwhat he had dreamed.\n\n\"It is from God,\" said the hermit. \"See that you make ready, and disobey\nnot the warning.\"\n\nSo, in the early morn, Lancelot and his fellows set out on foot from\nGlastonbury to Almesbury, which is little more than thirty miles. But\nthey were two days on the road, for they were weak and feeble with long\npenance. And when they reached the nunnery they found that Guenever had\ndied but half an hour before.\n\nThe ladies told Lancelot that the queen had said,--\n\n\"Hither cometh Lancelot as fast as he may to fetch my corpse. But I\nbeseech Almighty God that I may never behold him again with my mortal\neyes.\"\n\nThis, said the ladies, was her prayer for two days, till she died. When\nLancelot looked upon her dead face he wept not greatly, but sighed. And\nhe said all the service for the dead himself, and in the morning he sang\nmass.\n\nThen was the corpse placed in a horse-bier, and so taken to Glastonbury\nwith a hundred torches ever burning about it, and Lancelot and his\nfellows on foot beside it, singing and reading many a holy orison, and\nburning frankincense about the corpse.\n\nWhen the chapel had been reached, and services said by the hermit\narchbishop, the queen's corpse was wrapped in cered cloth of Raines,\nthirty-fold, and afterwards was put in a web of lead, and then in a\ncoffin of marble.\n\nBut when the corpse of her whom he had so long loved was put in the\nearth, Lancelot swooned with grief, and lay long like one dead, till the\nhermit came and aroused him, and said,--\n\n\"You are to blame for such unmeasured grief. You displease God thereby.\"\n\n[Illustration: Copyright by F. Frith and Co. Ltd., London, England.\n\nTHE OLD KITCHEN OF GLASTONBURY ABBEY.]\n\n\"I trust not,\" Lancelot replied, \"for my sorrow is too deep ever to\ncease. When I remember how greatly I am to blame for the death of this\nnoble King Arthur and Queen Guenever, my heart sinks within me, and I\nfeel that I shall never know a moment's joy again.\"\n\nThereafter he sickened and pined away, for the bishop nor any of his\nfellows could make him eat nor drink but very little, but day and night\nhe prayed, and wasted away, and ever lay grovelling on the tomb of the\nqueen.\n\nSo, within six weeks afterwards, Lancelot fell sick and lay in his bed.\nThen he sent for the bishop and all his fellows, and said with sad\nvoice: \"Sir Bishop, I pray you give me all the rites that belong to a\nChristian man, for my end is at hand.\"\n\n\"This is but heaviness of your blood,\" replied the bishop. \"You shall be\nwell amended, I hope, through God's grace, by to-morrow morning.\"\n\n\"In heaven, mayhap, but not on earth,\" said Lancelot. \"So give me the\nrites of the church, and after my death, I beg you to take my body to\nJoyous Gard, for there I have vowed that I would be buried.\"\n\nWhen they had heard this, and saw that he was indeed near his end, there\nwas such weeping and wringing of hands among his fellows that they could\nhardly help the bishop in the holy offices of the church. But that\nnight, after the midnight hour, as the bishop lay asleep, he fell into\nsuch a hearty laugh of joy that they all came to him in haste, and asked\nhim what ailed him.\n\n\"Why did you wake me?\" he cried. \"I was never in my life so happy and\nmerry.\"\n\n\"Wherefore?\" asked Sir Bors.\n\n\"Truly, here was Sir Lancelot with me, with more angels than I ever saw\nmen together; and I saw the angels bear him to heaven, and the gates of\nheaven opened to him.\"\n\n\"This is but the vexation of a dream,\" said Sir Bors. \"Lancelot may yet\nmend.\"\n\n\"Go to his bed,\" said the hermit, \"and you shall find if my dream has\nmeaning.\"\n\nThis they hastened to do, and there lay Lancelot dead, but with a smile\non his lips, and the sweetest savor about him they ever had known.\n\nGreat was the grief that followed, for never earthly man was mourned as\nwas Lancelot. In the morning, after the bishop had made a requiem mass,\nhe and his fellows put the corpse of the noble knight into the same\nhorse-bier that had borne Guenever, and the queen's corpse with it, and\nthey were taken together to Joyous Gard, with such state and ceremony as\nbefitted those of royal blood.\n\nAnd there all the services of the church were sung and read, while the\nface of Lancelot lay open for people to see; for such was then the\ncustom of the land. When the services were over they were buried in one\ntomb, for so great had been their love during life that all men said\nthey should not be divided in death.\n\nDuring these events, Sir Constantine, the noble son of Sir Cador of\nCornwall, had been chosen king of England in Arthur's place, and a\nworthy monarch he proved, ruling the realm worshipfully and long.\n\nAfter Lancelot's death the new king sent for the bishop of Canterbury,\nand restored him to his archbishopric; but Sir Bevidere remained a\nhermit at Glastonbury to his life's end.\n\nKing Constantine also desired the kindred of Lancelot to remain in his\nrealm; but this they would not do, but returned to their own country.\nFour of them, Sir Bors, Sir Hector, Sir Blamor, and Sir Bleoberis, went\nto the Holy Land, where they fought long and stoutly against the\nSaracens. And there they died upon a Good Friday, for God's sake.\n\nAnd so ends the book of the life and death of King Arthur and his noble\nKnights of the Round Table, who were an hundred and fifty when they were\nall together. Let us pray that God was merciful to them all.\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTranscriber's Notes:\n\n1. Minor punctuation errors have been corrected as follows;\n\n      Pg. 12 - Added missing punctuation \"?\" (might champion?)\n\n      Pg. 188 - Added missing punctuation \".\" (and he did all.)\n\n      Pg. 270 - Added missing endquote (\"This I say,\")\n\n      Pg. 316 - Removed extra enquote (what will you do?)\n\n\n2. Spelling corrections based upon correct spelling of the word\n   elsewhere in the text:\n\n      Pg. 39 - \"grevious\" to \"grievous\" (4) (grievous cry that)\n\n      Pg. 50 - \"you\" to \"your\" (\"Knight, hold your hand.\")\n\n      Pg. 83 - \"Dinaden\" to \"Dinadan\" (92) (Gareth and Dinadan also)\n\n      Pg. 94 - \"seaside\" to \"sea-side\" (8) (castle by the sea-side,)\n\n      Pg. 127 - \"law\" to \"lay\" (as he lay there asleep)\n\n      Pg. 143 - \"Badgemagus\" to \"Bagdemagus\" (11) (said Bagdemagus)\n\n      Pg. 159 - \"Percival\" to \"Percivale\" (94) (Percivale had returned)\n\n      Pg. 166 - \"dressel\" to \"dressed\" (old man dressed in a)\n\n      Pg. 189 - \"this\" to \"his\" (to his surprise and joy)\n\n      Pg. 202 - \"Nacien\" to \"Nancien\" (3) (once by Nancien)\n\n      Pg. 220 - \"seem\" to \"seen\" (and seen what you highly)\n\n      Pg. 238 - \"befel\" to \"befell\" (5) (it befell that Nimue)\n\n      Pg. 281 - \"Turquin\" to \"Turquine\" (2) (by Sir Turquine?)\n\n      Pg. 289 - \"Tristam's\" to \"Tristram's\" (313) (and Tristram's sake)\n\n      Pg. 298 - \"wil\" to \"will\" (361) (if you will receive)\n\n      Pg. 299 - \"dishoner\" to \"dishonor\" (12) (naught to her dishonor.)\n\n\n3. Words where both versions appear in this text and have been retained.\n\n      \"threescore\" (2) and \"three-score\"\n\n      \"King Astlabor\" (p. 87) and \"King Astlobar\" (p. 90)\n\n\n4. Known English Archaic words used in this text:\n\n      \"emprise\" (prowess/daring)\n\n      \"guerdon\" (reward)\n\n      \"halidom\" (a thing considered holy)\n\n      \"leman\" (sweetheart)\n\n      \"lief\" (dear)\n\n      \"woful\" (3) (now woeful)\n\n      \"villanous\" (6) and villany (3) (now var. of villian* (10))","title":"Historic Tales: The Romance of Reality. Vol. 14 (of 15), King Arthur (2)","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":90993}