{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_33702/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_33702","id":"gutenberg_33702","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/33702","summary":null,"tags":["Arthur, King -- Legends","Arthurian romances -- Adaptations","Category: British Literature","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Folklore -- England","Knights and knighthood -- Folklore","Lancelot (Legendary character) -- Legends"],"text":"Produced by Sharon Verougstraete, Suzanne Shell and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: The Lady Elaine the Fair.]\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n    The Story of\n    Sir\n    LAUNCELOT\n    and his\n    Companions\n\n    _by_\n    HOWARD PYLE.\n\n\n    NEW YORK:\n    Dover Publications, Inc.\n\n\nPublished in Canada by General Publishing Company, Ltd., 30 Lesmill\nRoad, Don Mills, Toronto, Ontario.\n\nPublished in the United Kingdom by Constable and Company, Ltd., 3 The\nLanchesters, 162-164 Fulham Palace Road, London W6 9ER.\n\nThis Dover edition, first published in 1991, is an unabridged\nrepublication of the work originally published by Charles Scribner's\nSons, New York, in 1907.\n\nManufactured in the United States of America. Dover Publications, Inc.,\n31 East 2nd Street, Mineola, N. Y. 11501\n\n\n_Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data_\n\nPyle, Howard, 1853-1911.\n\nThe story of Sir Launcelot and his companions / by Howard Pyle.\n\np. cm.\n\nReprint. Originally published: New York: Scribner, 1907.\n\nSummary: Follows Sir Launcelot of the Round Table as he rescues Queen\nGuinevere, fights in the tournament at Astolat, and pursues other\nadventures.\n\nISBN 0-486-26701-6\n\n1. Lancelot (Legendary character)--Romances. 2. Arthurian romances. [1.\nLancelot (Legendary character) 2. Knights and knighthood--Folklore. 3.\nArthur, King. 4. Folklore--England.] 1. Title.\n\n    PZ8.1.P994Sr 1991\n    843'.1--dc20\n    [398.2]        90-22326\n    CIP\n    AC\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n=Foreword.=\n\n_With this begins the third of those books which I have set myself to\nwrite concerning the history of King Arthur of Britain and of those\npuissant knights who were of his Court and of his Round Table.\n\nIn the Book which was written before this book you may there read the\nStory of that very noble and worthy knight, Sir Launcelot of the Lake;\nof how he dwelt within a magic lake which was the enchanted habitation\nof the Lady Nymue of the Lake; of how he was there trained in all the\nmost excellent arts of chivalry by Sir Pellias, the Gentle\nKnight--whilom a companion of the Round Table, but afterward the Lord of\nthe Lake; of how he came forth out of the Lake and became after that the\nchiefest knight of the Round Table of King Arthur. All of this was told\nin that book and many other things concerning Sir Launcelot and several\nother worthies who were Companions of the Round Table and who were very\nnoble and excellent knights both in battle and in court.\n\nSo here followeth a further history of Sir Launcelot of the Lake and\nthe narrative of several of the notable adventures that he performed at\nthis time of his life.\n\nWherefore if it will please you to read that which is hereinafter set\nforth, you will be told of how Sir Launcelot slew the great Worm of\nCorbin; of the madness that afterward fell upon him, and of how a most\nnoble, gentle, and beautiful lady, hight the Lady Elaine the Fair, lent\nhim aid and succor at a time of utmost affliction to him, and so brought\nhim back to health again. And you may herein further find it told how\nSir Launcelot was afterward wedded to that fair and gentle dame, and of\nhow was born of that couple a child of whom it was prophesied by Merlin\n(in a certain miraculous manner fully set forth in this book) that he\nshould become the most perfect knight that ever lived and he who should\nbring back the Holy Grail to the Earth.\n\nFor that child was Galahad whom the world knoweth to be the flower of\nall chivalry; a knight altogether without fear or reproach of any kind,\nyet, withal, the most glorious and puissant knight-champion who ever\nlived.\n\nSo if the perusal of these things may give you pleasure, I pray you to\nread that which followeth, for in this book all these and several other\nhistories are set forth in full._\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\n=Contents=\n\n\nPART I\n\nTHE CHEVALIER OF THE CART\n\n\nChapter First\n\n_How Denneys Found Sir Launcelot, and How Sir Launcelot Rode Forth for\nto Rescue Queen Guinevere From the Castle of Sir Mellegrans, and of What\nBefell Him Upon the Assaying of that Adventure_    11\n\n\nChapter Second\n\n_How Sir Launcelot Rode in a Cart to Rescue Queen Guinevere and How He\nCame in that Way to the Castle of Sir Mellegrans_    19\n\n\nChapter Third\n\n_How Sir Launcelot was Rescued From the Pit and How He Overcame Sir\nMellegrans and Set Free the Queen and Her Court From the Duress They\nWere in_    29\n\n\nPART II\n\nTHE STORY OF SIR GARETH OF ORKNEY\n\n\nChapter First\n\n_How Gareth of Orkney Came to the Castle of Kynkennedon Where King\nArthur was Holding Court, and How it Fared With Him at that Place_    39\n\n\nChapter Second\n\n_How Gareth set Forth Upon an Adventure with a Young Damsel Hight\nLynette; how he Fought with Sir Kay, and How Sir Launcelot Made him a\nKnight. Also in this it is Told of Several Other Happenings that Befell\nGareth, Called Beaumains, at this Time_    49\n\n\nChapter Third\n\n_How Sir Gareth and Lynette Travelled Farther Upon Their way; how Sir\nGareth Won the Pass of the River against Two Strong Knights, and How he\nOvercame the Black Knight of the Black Lands. Also How He Saved a Good\nWorthy Knight From Six Thieves who Held Him in Duress_    63\n\n\nChapter Fourth\n\n_How Sir Gareth Met Sir Percevant of Hind, and How He Came to Castle\nDangerous and Had Speech with the Lady Layonnesse. Also How the Lady\nLayonnesse Accepted Him for Her Champion_    77\n\n\nChapter Fifth\n\n_How Sir Gareth Fought with the Red Knight of the Red Lands and How it\nFared with Him in that Battle. Also How His Dwarf was Stolen, and How\nHis Name and Estate Became Known and Were Made Manifest_    91\n\n\nPART III\n\nTHE STORY OF SIR LAUNCELOT AND ELAINE THE FAIR\n\n\nChapter First\n\n_How Sir Launcelot Rode Errant and How He Assumed to Undertake the\nAdventure of the Worm of Corbin_    107\n\n\nChapter Second\n\n_How Sir Launcelot Slew the Worm of Corbin, and How He was Carried\nThereafter to the Castle of Corbin and to King Pelles and to the Lady\nElaine the Fair_    117\n\n\nChapter Third\n\n_How King Arthur Proclaimed a Tournament at Astolat, and How King Pelles\nof Corbin Went With His Court Thither to that Place. Also How Sir\nLauncelot and Sir Lavaine had Encounter with two Knights in the Highway\nThitherward_    125\n\n\nChapter Fourth\n\n_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine Fought in the Tournament at Astolat.\nHow Sir Launcelot was Wounded in that Affair, and How Sir Lavaine\nBrought Him Unto a Place of Safety_    137\n\n\nChapter Fifth\n\n_How Sir Launcelot Escaped Wounded into the Forest, and How Sir Gawaine\nDiscovered to the Court of King Pelles who was le Chevalier Malfait_\n    147\n\n\nChapter Sixth\n\n_How the Lady Elaine Went to Seek Sir Launcelot and How Sir Launcelot\nAfterwards Returned to the Court of King Arthur_    159\n\n\nPART IV\n\nTHE MADNESS OF SIR LAUNCELOT\n\n\nChapter First\n\n_How Sir Launcelot Became a Madman of the Forest and How He Was Brought\nto the Castle of Sir Blyant_    171\n\n\nChapter Second\n\n_How Sir Launcelot Saved the Life of Sir Blyant. How He Escaped From the\nCastle of Sir Blyant, and How He Slew the Great Wild Boar of Lystenesse\nand Saved the Life of King Arthur, His Liege Lord_    181\n\n\nChapter Third\n\n_How Sir Launcelot Returned to Corbin Again and How the Lady Elaine the\nFair Cherished Him and Brought Him Back to Health. Also How Sir\nLauncelot with the Lady Elaine Withdrew to Joyous Isle_    191\n\n\nPART V\n\nTHE STORY OF SIR EWAINE AND THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN\n\n\nChapter First\n\n_How Sir Ewaine and Sir Percival Departed Together in Quest of Sir\nLauncelot, and How They Met Sir Sagramore, Who Had Failed in a Certain\nAdventure. Also How Sir Sagramore Told His Story Concerning That\nAdventure_    201\n\n\nChapter Second\n\n_How Sir Ewaine Undertook That Adventure in Which Sir Sagramore Had\nFailed, and How it Sped with Him Thereafter_    213\n\nChapter Third\n\n_How a Damsel, Hight Elose, Who Was in Service With the Lady Lesolie of\nthe Fountain, Brought Succor to Sir Ewaine in His Captivity_    223\n\n\nChapter Fourth\n\n_How Sir Ewaine Returned to the Court of King Arthur, and How he Forgot\nthe Lady Lesolie and His Duty to the Fountain_    237\n\n\nChapter Fifth\n\n_How Sir Ewaine was Succored and Brought Back to Life by a Certain Noble\nLady, How He Brought Aid to that Lady in a Time of Great Trouble, and\nHow He Returned Once Again to the Lady Lesolie of the Fountain_    249\n\n\nPART VI\n\nTHE RETURN OF SIR LAUNCELOT\n\n\nChapter First\n\n_How Sir Percival Met His Brother, and How They Two Journeyed to the\nPriory where their Mother Dwelt and What Befell Them Thereafter_    263\n\n\nChapter Second\n\n_How Sir Percival and Sir Ector de Maris Came to a Very Wonderful Place\nWhere was a Castle in the Midst of a Lake_    279\n\n\nChapter Third\n\n_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival and Sir Ector and the Lady Elaine\nProgressed to the Court of King Arthur, and How a Very Good Adventure\nBefell Them Upon Their Way_    293\n\n\nPART VII\n\nTHE NATIVITY OF GALAHAD\n\n\nChapter First\n\n_How Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Gawaine Went Forth in Search of Sir\nLauncelot. How They Parted Company, and What Befell Sir Gawaine\nThereafter_    311\n\n\nChapter Second\n\n_How Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine Came to a Priory in the Forest, and How\nGalahad Was Born at That Place_    325\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n    _The Lady Elaine the Fair_                          _Frontispiece_\n\n                                                                _PAGE_\n\n    _Head Piece--Table of Contents_                                  v\n\n    _Tail Piece--Table of Contents_                                  x\n\n    _Head Piece--List of Illustrations_                             xi\n\n    _Tail Piece--List of Illustrations_                            xii\n\n    _Sir Mellegrans interrupts the sport of the Queen_               2\n\n    _Head Piece--Prologue_                                           3\n\n    _Tail Piece--Prologue_                                           8\n\n    _Denneys and the Hermit help Sir Launcelot to his Armor_        10\n\n    _Head Piece_                                                    11\n\n    _How Sir Launcelot rode errant in a cart_                       18\n\n    _The Damsel Elouise the Fair rescues Sir Launcelot_             28\n\n    _Sir Gareth of Orkney_                                          38\n\n    _Head Piece_                                                    39\n\n    _The Damsel Lynette_                                            48\n\n    _Sir Gareth doeth Battle with the Knight of the River Ford_     62\n\n    _The Lady Layonnesse_                                           76\n\n    _The Lady Layonnesse cometh to the Pavilion of Sir Gareth_      90\n\n    _Tail Piece_                                                   104\n\n    _How Sir Launcelot held discourse with ye Merry Minstrels_     106\n\n    _Head Piece_                                                   107\n\n    _Sir Launcelot slayeth the Worm of Corbin_                     116\n\n    _Sir Launcelot confideth his Shield to Elaine the Fair_        124\n\n    _Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine overlook the Field of Astolat_  136\n\n    _Sir Gawaine knoweth the shield of Sir Launcelot_              146\n\n    _Sir Launcelot leapeth from the window_                        158\n\n    _Tail Piece_                                                   168\n\n    _The Madman of the Forest who was Sir Launcelot_               170\n\n    _Head Piece_                                                   171\n\n    _The Forest Madman saveth ye Life of King Arthur_              180\n\n    _Tail Piece_                                                   188\n\n    _The Lady Elaine the Fair knoweth Sir Launcelot_               190\n\n    _Sir Gawaine, Knight of the Fountain_                          200\n\n    _Head Piece_                                                   201\n\n    _Sir Ewaine poureth water on the slab_                         212\n\n    _The Damsel Elose giveth a ring to Sir Ewaine_                 222\n\n    _The Lady of the Fountain_                                     236\n\n    _A Damsel bringeth aid unto Sir Ewaine_                        248\n\n    _Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival receive their Mother's Blessing_262\n\n    _Head Piece_                                                   263\n\n    _Sir Percival and Sir Ector look upon the Isle of Joy_         278\n\n    _Sir Lavaine the Son of Pelles_                                292\n\n    _Merlin Prophesieth from a Cloud of Mist_                      310\n\n    _Head Piece_                                                   311\n\n    _Tail Piece_                                                   322\n\n    _Sir Bors de Ganis, the good_                                  324\n\n    _The Barge of the Dead_                                        334\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n_The Story of_\n\nSir\n\nLAUNCELOT\n\nand his\n\n_Companions_\n\n\n[Illustration: Sir Mellegrans interrupts the sport of the Queen.]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nPrologue.\n\n\nIt befel upon a very joyous season in the month of May that Queen\nGuinevere was of a mind to take gentle sport as folk do at that time of\nthe year; wherefore on a day she ordained it in a court of pleasure that\non the next morning certain knights and ladies of the court at Camelot\nshould ride with her a-maying into the woods and fields, there to\ndisport themselves amid the flowers and blossoms that grew in great\nmultitudes beside the river.\n\n[Sidenote: _How the Lady Guinevere rode a-maying._]\n\nOf this May-party it stands recorded several times in the various\nhistories of chivalry that the knights she chose were ten in all and\nthat they were all Knights of the Round Table, to wit, as followeth:\nthere was Sir Kay the Seneschal, and Sir Agravaine, and Sir Brandiles,\nand Sir Sagramour the Desirous, and Sir Dodinas, and Sir Osanna, and Sir\nLadynas of the Forest Sauvage, and Sir Persavant of India, and Sir\nIronside and Sir Percydes, who was cousin to Sir Percival of Gales.\nThese were the ten (so sayeth those histories aforesaid) whom the Lady\nGuinevere called upon for to ride a-maying with her all bright and early\nupon the morning of the day as aforesaid.\n\nAnd the Queen further ordained that each of these knights should choose\nhim a lady for the day. And she ordained that each lady should ride\nbehind the knight upon the horse which he rode. And she ordained that\nall those knights and ladies and all such attendants as might be of that\nparty should be clad entirely in green, as was fitting for that pleasant\nfestival.\n\nSuch were the commands that the Queen ordained, and when those who were\nchosen were acquainted with their good fortune they took great joy\ntherein; for all they wist there would be great sport at that\nmaying-party.\n\nSo when the next morning was come they all rode forth in the freshness\nof dewy springtide; what time the birds were singing so joyously, so\njoyously, from every hedge and coppice; what time the soft wind was\nblowing great white clouds, slow sailing across the canopy of heaven,\neach cloud casting a soft and darkling shadow that moved across the\nhills and uplands as it swam the light blue heaven above; what time all\nthe trees and hedgerows were abloom with fragrant and dewy blossoms, and\nfields and meadow-lands, all shining bright with dew, were spread over\nwith a wonderful carpet of pretty flowers, gladdening the eye with their\ncharm and making fragrant the breeze that blew across the smooth and\ngrassy plain.\n\nFor in those days the world was young and gay (as it is nowadays with\nlittle children who are abroad when the sun shines bright and things are\na-growing) and the people who dwelt therein had not yet grown aweary of\nits freshness of delight. Wherefore that fair Queen and her court took\ngreat pleasure in all the merry world that lay spread about them, as\nthey rode two by two, each knight with his lady, gathering the blossoms\nof the May, chattering the while like merry birds and now and then\nbursting into song because of the pure pleasure of living.\n\n[Sidenote: _They feast very joyously._]\n\nSo they disported themselves among the blossoms for all that morning,\nand when noontide had come they took their rest at a fair spot in a\nflowery meadow that lay spread out beside the smooth-flowing river about\nthree miles from the town. For from where they sat they might look down\nacross the glassy stream and behold the distant roofs and spires of\nCamelot, trembling in the thin warm air, very bright and clear, against\nthe blue and radiant sky beyond. And after they were all thus seated in\nthe grass, sundry attendants came and spread out a fair white\ntable-cloth and laid upon the cloth a goodly feast for their\nrefreshment--cold pasties of venison, roasted fowls, manchets of white\nbread, and flagons of golden wine and ruby wine. And all they took great\npleasure when they gazed upon that feast, for they were anhungered with\ntheir sporting. So they ate and drank and made them merry; and whilst\nthey ate certain minstrels sang songs, and certain others recited goodly\ncontes and tales for their entertainment. And meanwhile each fair lady\nwove wreaths of herbs and flowers and therewith bedecked her knight,\nuntil all those noble gentlemen were entirely bedight with\nblossoms--whereat was much merriment and pleasant jesting.\n\nThus it was that Queen Guinevere went a-maying, and so have I told you\nall about it so that you might know how it was.\n\n[Sidenote: _A knight cometh forth from the forest._]\n\nNow whilst the Queen and her party were thus sporting together like to\nchildren in the grass, there suddenly came the sound of a bugle-horn\nwinded in the woodlands that there were not a very great distance away\nfrom where they sat, and whilst they looked with some surprise to see\nwho blew that horn in the forest, there suddenly appeared at the edge of\nthe woodland an armed knight clad cap-a-pie. And the bright sunlight\nsmote down upon that armed knight so that he shone with wonderful\nbrightness at the edge of the shadows of the trees. And after that\nknight there presently followed an array of men-at-arms--fourscore and\nmore in all--and these also were clad at all points in armor as though\nprepared for battle.\n\nThis knight and those who were with him stopped for a little while at\nthe edge of the wood and stood regarding that May-party from a distance;\nthen after a little they rode forward across the meadow to where the\nQueen and her court sat looking at them.\n\nNow at first Queen Guinevere and those that were with her wist not who\nthat knight could be, but when he and his armed men had come nigh\nenough, they were aware that he was a knight hight Sir Mellegrans, who\nwas the son of King Bagdemagus, and they wist that his visit was not\nlikely to bode any very great good to them.\n\nFor Sir Mellegrans was not like his father, who (as hath been already\ntold of both in the Book of King Arthur and in The Story of the\nChampions of the Round Table) was a good and worthy king, and a friend\nof King Arthur's. For, contrariwise, Sir Mellegrans was malcontented and\nheld bitter enmity toward King Arthur, and that for this reason:\n\nA part of the estate of Sir Mellegrans marched upon the borders of\nWales, and there had at one time arisen great contention between Sir\nMellegrans and the King of North Wales concerning a certain strip of\nforest land, as to the ownership thereof. This contention had been\nsubmitted to King Arthur and he had decided against Sir Mellegrans and\nin favor of the King of North Wales; wherefore from that time Sir\nMellegrans had great hatred toward King Arthur and sware that some time\nhe would be revenged upon him if the opportunity should offer. Wherefore\nit was that when the Lady Guinevere beheld that it was Sir Mellegrans\nwho appeared before her thus armed in full, she was ill at ease, and\nwist that that visit maybe boded no good to herself and to her gentle\nMay-court.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Mellegrans affronts the May-party._]\n\nSo Sir Mellegrans and his armed party rode up pretty close to where the\nQueen and her party sat in the grass. And when he had come very near he\ndrew rein to his horse and sat regarding that gay company both bitterly\nand scornfully (albeit at the moment he knew not the Queen who she\nwas). Then after a little he said: \"What party of jesters are ye, and\nwhat is this foolish sport ye are at?\"\n\nThen Sir Kay the Seneschal spake up very sternly and said: \"Sir Knight,\nit behooves you to be more civil in your address. Do you not perceive\nthat this is the Queen and her court before whom you stand and unto whom\nyou are speaking?\"\n\nThen Sir Mellegrans knew the Queen and was filled with great triumph to\nfind her thus, surrounded only with a court of knights altogether\nunarmed. Wherefore he cried out in a great voice: \"Hah! lady, now I do\nknow thee! Is it thus that I find thee and thy court? Now it appears to\nme that Heaven hath surely delivered you into my hands!\"\n\nTo this Sir Percydes replied, speaking very fiercely: \"What mean you,\nSir Knight, by those words? Do you dare to make threats to your Queen?\"\n\nQuoth Sir Mellegrans: \"I make no threats, but I tell you this, I do not\nmean to throw aside the good fortune that hath thus been placed in my\nhands. For here I find you all undefended and in my power, wherefore I\nforthwith seize upon you for to take you to my castle and hold you there\nas hostages until such time as King Arthur shall make right the great\nwrong which he hath done me aforetime and shall return to me those\nforest lands which he hath taken from me to give unto another. So if you\ngo with me in peace, it shall be well for you, but if you go not in\npeace it shall be ill for you.\"\n\nThen all the ladies that were of the Queen's court were seized with\ngreat terror, for Sir Mellegrans's tones and the aspect of his face were\nvery fierce and baleful; but Queen Guinevere, albeit her face was like\nto wax for whiteness, spake with a great deal of courage and much anger,\nsaying: \"Wilt thou be a traitor to thy King, Sir Knight? Wilt thou dare\nto do violence to me and my court within the very sight of the roofs of\nKing Arthur's town?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" said Sir Mellegrans, \"thou hast said what I will to do.\"\n\nAt this Sir Percydes drew his sword and said: \"Sir Knight, this shall\nnot be! Thou shalt not have thy will in this while I have any life in my\nbody!\"\n\nThen all those other gentlemen drew their swords also, and one and all\nspake to the same purpose, saying: \"Sir Percydes hath spoken; sooner\nwould we die than suffer that affront to the Queen.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Sir Mellegrans, speaking very bitterly, \"if ye will it that\nye who are naked shall do battle with us who are armed, then let it be\neven as ye elect. So keep this lady from me if ye are able, for I will\nherewith seize upon you all, maugre anything that you may do to stay\nme.\"\n\nThen those ten unarmed knights of the Queen and their attendants made\nthem ready for battle. And when Sir Mellegrans beheld what was their\nwill, he gave command that his men should make them ready for battle\nupon their part, and they did so.\n\nThen in a moment all that pleasant May-party was changed to dreadful and\nbloody uproar; for men lashed fiercely at men with sword and glaive, and\nthe Queen and her ladies shrieked and clung in terror together in the\nmidst of that party of knights who were fighting for them.\n\n[Sidenote: _Of the battle with the party of Sir Mellegrans._]\n\nAnd for a long time those ten unarmed worthies fought against the armed\nmen as one to ten, and for a long time no one could tell how that battle\nwould end. For the ten men smote the others down from their horses upon\nall sides, wherefore, for a while, it looked as though the victory\nshould be with them. But they could not shield themselves from the blows\nof their enemies, being unarmed, wherefore they were soon wounded in\nmany places, and what with loss of blood and what with stress of\nfighting a few against many without any rest, they presently began to\nwax weak and faint. Then at last Sir Kay fell down to the earth and then\nSir Sagramour and then Sir Agravaine and Sir Dodinas and then Sir\nLadynas and Sir Osanna and Sir Persavant, so that all who were left\nstanding upon their feet were Sir Brandiles and Sir Ironside and Sir\nPercydes.\n\nBut still these three set themselves back to back and thus fought on in\nthat woful battle. And still they lashed about them so fiercely with\ntheir swords that the terror of this battle filled their enemies with\nfear, insomuch that those who were near them fell back after a while to\nescape the dreadful strokes they gave.\n\nSo came a pause in the battle and all stood at rest. Meantime all around\non the ground were men groaning dolorously, for in that battle those ten\nunarmed knights of the Round Table had smitten down thirty of their\nenemies.\n\nSo for a while those three stood back to back resting from their battle\nand panting for breath. As for their gay attire of green, lo! it was all\nensanguined with the red that streamed from many sore and grimly wounds.\nAnd as for those gay blossoms that had bedecked them, lo! they were all\ngone, and instead there hung about them the dread and terror of a deadly\nbattle.\n\nThen when Queen Guinevere beheld her knights how they stood bleeding\nfrom many wounds and panting for breath, her heart was filled with pity,\nand she cried out in a great shrill voice: \"Sir Mellegrans, have pity!\nSlay not my noble knights! but spare them and I will go with thee as\nthou wouldst have me do. Only this covenant I make with thee: suffer\nthese lords and ladies of my court and all of those attendant upon us,\nto go with me into captivity.\"\n\nThen Sir Mellegrans said: \"Well, lady, it shall be as you wish, for\nthese men of yours fight not like men but like devils, wherefore I am\nglad to end this battle for the sake of all. So bid your knights put\naway their swords, and I will do likewise with my men, and so there\nshall be peace between us.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Queen putteth an end to the battle._]\n\nThen, in obedience to the request of Sir Mellegrans, the Lady Guinevere\ngave command that those three knights should put away their swords, and\nthough they all three besought her that she should suffer them to fight\nstill a little longer for her, she would not; so they were obliged to\nsheath their swords as she ordered. After that these three knights went\nto their fallen companions, and found that they were all alive, though\nsorely hurt. And they searched their wounds as they lay upon the ground,\nand they dressed them in such ways as might be. After that they helped\nlift the wounded knights up to their horses, supporting them there in\nsuch wise that they should not fall because of faintness from their\nwounds. So they all departed, a doleful company, from that place, which\nwas now no longer a meadow of pleasure, but a field of bloody battle and\nof death.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThus beginneth this history.\n\nAnd now you shall hear that part of this story which is called in many\nbooks of chivalry, \"The Story of the Knight of the Cart.\"\n\nFor the further history hath now to do with Sir Launcelot of the Lake,\nand of how he came to achieve the rescue of Queen Guinevere, brought\nthither in a cart.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nPART I\n\nThe Chevalier of the Cart\n\n\n_Here followeth the story of Sir Launcelot of the Lake, how he went\nforth to rescue Queen Guinevere from that peril in which she lay at the\ncastle of Sir Mellegrans. Likewise it is told how he met with a very\nuntoward adventure, so that he was obliged to ride to his undertaking in\na cart as aforesaid._\n\n[Illustration: Denneys and the Hermit help Sir Launcelot to his armor.]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter First\n\n_How Denneys Found Sir Launcelot, and How Sir Launcelot Rode Forth for\nto Rescue Queen Guinevere from the Castle of Sir Mellegrans, and of What\nBefell him upon the Assaying of that Adventure._\n\n\nNow after that sad and sorrowful company of the Queen had thus been led\naway captive by Sir Mellegrans as aforetold of, they rode forward upon\ntheir way for all that day. And they continued to ride after the night\nhad fallen, and at that time they were passing through a deep dark\nforest. From this forest, about midnight, they came out into an open\nstony place whence before them they beheld where was built high up upon\na steep hill a grim and forbidding castle, standing very dark against\nthe star-lit sky. And behind the castle there was a town with a number\nof lights and a bell was tolling for midnight in the town. And this town\nand castle were the town and the castle of Sir Mellegrans.\n\n[Sidenote: _How Denneys escaped._]\n\nNow the Queen had riding near to her throughout that doleful journey a\nyoung page named Denneys, and as they had ridden upon their way, she had\ntaken occasion at one place to whisper to him: \"Denneys, if thou canst\nfind a chance of escape, do so, and take news of our plight to some one\nwho may rescue us.\" So it befel that just as they came out thus into\nthat stony place, and in the confusion that arose when they reached the\nsteep road that led up to the castle, Denneys drew rein a little to one\nside. Then, seeing that he was unobserved, he suddenly set spurs to his\nhorse and rode away with might and main down the stony path and into the\nforest whence they had all come, and so was gone before anybody had\ngathered thought to stay him.\n\nThen Sir Mellegrans was very angry, and he rode up to the Queen and he\nsaid: \"Lady, thou hast sought to betray me! But it matters not, for thy\npage shall not escape from these parts with his life, for I shall send a\nparty after him with command to slay him with arrows.\"\n\nSo Sir Mellegrans did as he said; he sent several parties of armed men\nto hunt the forest for the page Denneys; but Denneys escaped them all\nand got safe away into the cover of the night.\n\nAnd after that he wandered through the dark and gloomy woodland, not\nknowing whither he went, for there was no ray of light. Moreover, the\ngloom was full of strange terrors, for on every side of him he heard the\nmovement of night creatures stirring in the darkness, and he wist not\nwhether they were great or little or whether they were of a sort to harm\nhim or not to harm him.\n\n[Sidenote: _How Denneys rideth through the forest._]\n\nYet ever he went onward until, at last, the dawn of the day came shining\nvery faint and dim through the tops of the trees. And then, by and by,\nand after a little, he began to see the things about him, very faint, as\nthough they were ghosts growing out of the darkness. Then the small fowl\nawoke, and first one began to chirp and then another, until a multitude\nof the little feathered creatures fell to singing upon all sides so that\nthe silence of the forest was filled full of their multitudinous\nchanting. And all the while the light grew stronger and stronger and\nmore clear and sharp until, by and by, the great and splendid sun leaped\nup into the sky and shot his shafts of gold aslant through the trembling\nleaves of the trees; and so all the joyous world was awake once more to\nthe fresh and dewy miracle of a new-born day.\n\nSo cometh the breaking of the day in the woodlands as I have told you,\nand all this Denneys saw, albeit he thought but little of what he\nbeheld. For all he cared for at that time was to escape out of the thick\nmazes of the forest in which he knew himself to be entangled. Moreover,\nhe was faint with weariness and hunger, and wist not where he might\nbreak his fast or where he could find a place to tarry and to repose\nhimself for a little.\n\nBut God had care of little Denneys and found him food, for by and by he\ncame to an open space in the forest, where there was a neatherd's hut,\nand that was a very pleasant place. For here a brook as clear as crystal\ncame brawling out of the forest and ran smoothly across an open lawn of\nbright green grass; and there was a hedgerow and several apple-trees,\nand both the hedge and the apple-trees were abloom with fragrant\nblossoms. And the thatched hut of the neatherd stood back under two\ngreat oak-trees at the edge of the forest, where the sunlight played in\nspots of gold all over the face of the dwelling.\n\n[Sidenote: _How Denneys findeth food._]\n\nSo the Queen's page beheld the hut and he rode forward with intent to\nbeg for bread, and at his coming there appeared a comely woman of the\nforest at the door and asked him what he would have. To her Denneys told\nhow he was lost in the forest and how he was anhungered. And whilst he\ntalked there came a slim brown girl, also of the woodland, and very\nwild, and she stood behind the woman and listened to what he said. This\nwoman and this girl pitied Denneys, and the woman gave command that the\ngirl should give him a draught of fresh milk, and the maiden did so,\nbringing it to him in a great wooden bowl. Meanwhile, the woman herself\nfetched sweet brown bread spread with butter as yellow as gold, and\nDenneys took it and gave them both thanks beyond measure. So he ate and\ndrank with great appetite, the whiles those two outland folk stood\ngazing at him, wondering at his fair young face and his yellow hair.\n\nAfter that, Denneys journeyed on for the entire day, until the light\nbegan to wane once more. The sun set; the day faded into the silence of\nthe gloaming and then the gloaming darkened, deeper and more deep, until\nDenneys was engulfed once more in the blackness of the night-time.\n\nThen lo! God succored him again, for as the darkness fell, he heard the\nsound of a little bell ringing through the gathering night. Thitherward\nhe turned his horse whence he heard the sound to come, and so in a\nlittle he perceived a light shining from afar, and when he had come nigh\nenough to that light he was aware that he had come to the chapel of a\nhermit of the forest and that the light that he beheld came from within\nthe hermit's dwelling-place.\n\nAs Denneys drew nigh to the chapel and the hut a great horse neighed\nfrom a cabin close by, and therewith he was aware that some other\nwayfarer was there, and that he should have comradeship--and at that his\nheart was elated with gladness.\n\n[Sidenote: _Denneys cometh to the chapel of the hermit._]\n\nSo he rode up to the door of the hut and knocked, and in answer to his\nknocking there came one and opened to him, and that one was a most\nreverend hermit with a long beard as white as snow and a face very calm\nand gentle and covered all over with a great multitude of wrinkles.\n\n(And this was the hermit of the forest several times spoken of aforetime\nin these histories.)\n\nWhen the hermit beheld before him that young lad, all haggard and worn\nand faint and sick with weariness and travel and hunger, he took great\npity and ran to him and catched him in his arms and lifted him down from\nhis horse and bare him into the hermitage, and sat him down upon a bench\nthat was there.\n\nDenneys said: \"Give me to eat and to drink, for I am faint to death.\"\nAnd the hermit said, \"You shall have food upon the moment,\" and he went\nto fetch it.\n\nThen Denneys gazed about him with heavy eyes, and was aware that there\nwas another in the hut besides himself. And then he heard a voice speak\nhis name with great wonderment, saying: \"Denneys, is it then thou who\nhast come here at this time? What ails thee? Lo! I knew thee not when I\nfirst beheld thee enter.\"\n\nThen Denneys lifted up his eyes, and he beheld that it was Sir Launcelot\nof the Lake who spoke to him thus in the hut of the hermit.\n\n[Sidenote: _Denneys findeth Sir Launcelot._]\n\nAt that, and seeing who it was who spake to him, Denneys leaped up and\nran to Sir Launcelot and fell down upon his knees before him. And he\nembraced Sir Launcelot about the knees, weeping beyond measure because\nof the many troubles through which he had passed.\n\nSir Launcelot said: \"Denneys, what is it ails thee? Where is the Queen,\nand how came you here at this place and at this hour? Why look you so\ndistraught, and why are you so stained with blood?\"\n\nThen Denneys, still weeping, told Sir Launcelot all that had befallen,\nand how that the Lady Guinevere was prisoner in the castle of Sir\nMellegrans somewhere in the midst of that forest.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot rides forth to save the Queen._]\n\nBut when Sir Launcelot heard what Denneys said, he arose very hastily\nand he cried out, \"How is this! How is this!\" and he cried out again\nvery vehemently: \"Help me to mine armor and let me go hence!\" (for Sir\nLauncelot had laid aside his armor whilst he rested in the hut of the\nhermit).\n\nAt that moment the hermit came in, bringing food for Denneys to eat, and\nhearing what Sir Launcelot said, he would have persuaded him to abide\nthere until the morrow and until he could see his way. But Sir Launcelot\nwould listen to nothing that might stay him. So Denneys and the hermit\nhelped him don his armor, and after that Sir Launcelot mounted his\nwar-horse and rode away into the blackness of the night.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo Sir Launcelot rode as best he might through the darkness of the\nforest, and he rode all night, and shortly after the dawning of the day\nhe heard the sound of rushing water.\n\nSo he followed a path that led to this water and by and by he came to\nan open space very stony and rough. And he saw that here was a great\ntorrent of water that came roaring down from the hills very violent and\nturbid and covered all over with foam like to cream. And he beheld that\nthere was a bridge of stone that spanned the torrent and that upon the\nfarther side of the bridge was a considerable body of men-at-arms all in\nfull armor. And he beheld that there were at least five-and-twenty of\nthese men, and that chief among them was a man clad in green armor.\n\nThen Sir Launcelot rode out upon the bridge and he called to those armed\nmen: \"Can you tell me whether this way leads to the castle of Sir\nMellegrans?\"\n\nThey say to him: \"Who are you, Sir Knight?\"\n\n\"I am one,\" quoth Sir Launcelot, \"who seeks the castle of Sir\nMellegrans. For that knight hath violently seized upon the person of the\nLady Guinevere and of certain of her court, and he now holds her and\nthem captive and in duress. I am one who hath come to rescue that lady\nand her court from their distress and anxiety.\"\n\nUpon this the Green Knight, who was the chief of that party, came a\nlittle nearer to Sir Launcelot, and said: \"Messire, are you Sir\nLauncelot of the Lake?\" Sir Launcelot said: \"Yea, I am he.\" \"Then,\" said\nthe Green Knight, \"you can go no farther upon this pass, for you are to\nknow that we are the people of Sir Mellegrans, and that we are here to\nstay you or any of your fellows from going forward upon this way.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot laughed, and he said: \"Messire, how will you stay me\nagainst my will?\" The Green Knight said: \"We will stay you by force of\nour numbers.\" \"Well,\" quoth Sir Launcelot, \"for the matter of that, I\nhave made my way against greater odds than those I now see before me. So\nyour peril will be of your own devising, if you seek to stay me.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _How Sir Launcelot assailed his enemies._ ]\n\nTherewith he cast aside his spear and drew his sword, and set spurs to\nhis horse and rode forward against them. And he rode straight in amongst\nthem with great violence, lashing right and left with his sword, so that\nat every stroke a man fell down from out of his saddle. So fierce and\ndireful were the blows that Sir Launcelot delivered that the terror of\nhis rage fell upon them, wherefore, after a while, they fell away from\nbefore him, and left him standing alone in the centre of the way.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot, his horse is slain._]\n\nNow there were a number of the archers of Sir Mellegrans lying hidden in\nthe rocks at the sides of that pass. These, seeing how that battle was\ngoing and that Sir Launcelot had driven back their companions,\nstraightway fitted arrows to their bows and began shooting at the horse\nof Sir Launcelot. Against these archers Sir Launcelot could in no wise\ndefend his horse, wherefore the steed was presently sorely wounded and\nbegan plunging and snorting in pain so that Sir Launcelot could hardly\nhold him in check. And still the archers shot arrow after arrow until by\nand by the life began to go out of the horse. Then after a while the\ngood steed fell down upon his knees and rolled over into the dust; for\nhe was so sorely wounded that he could no longer stand.\n\nBut Sir Launcelot did not fall, but voided his saddle with great skill\nand address, so that he kept his feet, wherefore his enemies were not\nable to take him at such disadvantage as they would have over a fallen\nknight who lay upon the ground.\n\nSo Sir Launcelot stood there in the midst of the way at the end of the\nbridge, and he waved his sword this way and that way before him so that\nnot one of those, his enemies, dared to come nigh to him. For the terror\nof him still lay upon them all and they dreaded those buffets he had\ngiven them in the battle they had just fought with him.\n\nWherefore they stood at a considerable distance regarding Sir Launcelot\nand not daring to come nigh to him; and they stood so for a long time.\nAnd although the Green Knight commanded them to fight, they would not\nfight any more against Sir Launcelot, so the Green Knight had to give\norders for them to cease that battle and to depart from that place. This\nthey did, leaving Sir Launcelot standing where he was.\n\nThus Sir Launcelot with his single arm won a battle against all that\nmultitude of enemies as I have told.\n\nBut though Sir Launcelot had thus won that pass with great credit and\nhonor to himself, fighting as a single man against so many, yet he was\nstill in a very sorry plight. For there he stood, a full-armed man with\nsuch a great weight of armor upon him that he could hardly hope to walk\na league, far less to reach the castle of Sir Mellegrans afoot. Nor knew\nhe what to do in this extremity, for where could he hope to find a horse\nin that thick forest, where was hardly a man or a beast of any sort?\nWherefore, although he had won his battle, he was yet in no ease or\nsatisfaction of spirit.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThus it was that Sir Launcelot went upon that adventure; and now you\nshall hear how it sped with him further, if so be you are pleased to\nread that which followeth.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: How Sir Launcelot rode errant in a cart.]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Second\n\n_How Sir Launcelot rode in a cart to rescue Queen Guinevere and how he\ncame in that way to the castle of Sir Mellegrans._\n\n\nNow after Sir Launcelot was thus left by his enemies standing alone in\nthe road as aforetold of, he knew not for a while what to do, nor how he\nshould be able to get him away from that place.\n\nAs he stood there adoubt as to what to do in this sorry case, he by and\nby heard upon one side from out of the forest the sound of an axe at a\ndistance away, and thereat he was very glad, for he wist that help was\nnigh. So he took up his shield on his shoulder and his spear in his hand\nand thereupon directed his steps toward where he heard that sound of the\naxe, in hopes that there he might find some one who could aid in his\nextremity. So after a while, he came forth into a little open glade of\nthe forest where he beheld a fagotmaker chopping fagots. And he beheld\nthe fagotmaker had there a cart and a horse for to fetch his fagots from\nthe forest.\n\nBut when the fagotmaker saw an armed knight come thus like a shining\nvision out of the forest, walking afoot, bearing his shield upon his\nshoulder, and his spear in his hand, he knew not what to think of such a\nsight, but stood staring with his mouth agape for wonders.\n\nSir Launcelot said to him, \"Good fellow, is that thy cart?\" The\nfagotmaker said, \"Yea, Messire.\" \"I would,\" quoth Sir Launcelot, \"have\nthee do me a service with that cart,\" and the fagotmaker asked, \"What is\nthe service that thou wouldst have of me, Messire?\" Sir Launcelot said:\n\"This is the service I would have: it is that you take me into yonder\ncart and hale me to somewhere I may get a horse for to ride; for mine\nown horse hath just now been slain in battle, and I know not how I may\ngo forward upon the adventure I have undertaken unless I get me another\nhorse.\"\n\nNow you must know that in those days it was not thought worthy of any\none of degree to ride in a cart in that wise as Sir Launcelot said, for\nthey would take law-breakers to the gallows in just such carts as that\none in which Sir Launcelot made demand to ride. Wherefore it was that\nthat poor fagotmaker knew not what to think when he heard Sir Launcelot\ngive command that he should be taken to ride in that cart. \"Messire,\"\nquoth he, \"this cart is no fit thing for one of your quality to ride in.\nNow I beseech you let me serve you in some other way than that.\"\n\nBut Sir Launcelot made reply as follows: \"Sirrah, I would have thee know\nthat there is no shame in riding in a cart for a worthy purpose, but\nthere is great shame if one rides therein unworthily. And contrariwise,\na man doth not gain credit merely for riding on horseback, for his\ncredit appertains to his conduct, and not to what manner he rideth. So\nas my purpose is worthy, I shall, certes, be unworthy if I go not to\nfulfil that purpose, even if in so going I travel in thy poor cart. So\ndo as I bid thee and make thy cart ready, and if thou wilt bring me in\nit to where I may get a fresh horse, I will give thee five pieces of\ngold money for thy service.\"\n\nNow when the fagotmaker heard what Sir Launcelot said about the five\npieces of gold money, he was very joyful, wherefore he ran to make ready\nhis cart with all speed. And when the cart was made ready, Sir Launcelot\nentered into it with his shield and his spear.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot rideth in a cart._]\n\nSo it was that Sir Launcelot of the Lake came to ride errant in a cart,\nwherefore, for a long time after, he was called the Chevalier of the\nCart. And many ballads and songs were made concerning that matter, which\nsame were sung in several courts of chivalry by minstrels and jongleurs,\nand these same stories and ballads have come down from afar to us of\nthis very day.\n\nMeantime Sir Launcelot rode forward at a slow pass and in that way for a\ngreat distance. So, at last, still riding in the cart, they came of a\nsudden out of the forest and into a little fertile valley in the midst\nof which lay a small town and a fair castle with seven towers that\noverlooked the town. And this was a very fair pretty valley, for on all\nsides of the town and of the castle were fields of growing corn, all\ngreen and lush, and there were many hedgerows and orchards of\nfruit-trees all abloom with fragrant blossoms. And the sound of cocks\ncrowing came to Sir Launcelot upon a soft breeze that blew up the\nvalley, and on the same breeze came the fragrance of apple blossoms,\nwherefore it seemed to Sir Launcelot that this valley was like a fair\njewel of heaven set in the rough perlieus of the forest that lay round\nabout.\n\nSo the fagotmaker drove Sir Launcelot in the cart down into that valley\ntoward the castle, and as they drew near thereunto Sir Launcelot was\naware of a party of lords and ladies who were disporting themselves in a\nsmooth meadow of green grass that lay spread out beneath the castle\nwalls. And some of these lords and ladies tossed a ball from one to\nanother, and others lay in the grass in the shade of a lime-tree and\nwatched those that played at ball. Then Sir Launcelot was glad to see\nthose gentle folk, for he thought that here he might get him a fresh\nhorse to take him upon his way. So he gave command to the fagotmaker to\ndrive to where those people were.\n\nBut as Sir Launcelot, riding in the fagotmaker's cart, drew near to\nthose castle-folk, they ceased their play and stood and looked at him\nwith great astonishment, for they had never beheld an armed knight\nriding in a cart in that wise. Then, in a little, they all fell to\nlaughing beyond measure, and at that Sir Launcelot was greatly abashed\nwith shame.\n\nThen the lord of that castle came forward to meet Sir Launcelot. He was\na man of great dignity of demeanor--gray-haired, and clad in velvet\ntrimmed with fur. When he came nigh to where Sir Launcelot was, he said,\nspeaking as with great indignation: \"Sir knight, why do you ride in this\nwise in a cart, like to a law-breaker going to the gallows?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" quoth Sir Launcelot, \"I ride thus because my horse was slain by\ntreachery. For I have an adventure which I have undertaken to perform,\nand I have no other way to go forward upon that quest than this.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The lord of a castle chideth Sir Launcelot._]\n\nThen all those who heard what Sir Launcelot said laughed again with\ngreat mirth. Only the old lord of the castle did not laugh, but said,\nstill speaking as with indignation: \"Sir Knight, it is altogether\nunworthy of one of your degree to ride thus in a cart to be made a mock\nof. Wherefore come down, and if you prove yourself worthy I myself will\npurvey you a horse.\"\n\nBut by this time Sir Launcelot had become greatly affronted at the\nlaughter of those who jeered at him, and he was furthermore affronted\nthat the lord of the castle should deem him to be unworthy because he\ncame thither in a cart; wherefore he said: \"Sir, without boasting,\nmethinks I may say that I am altogether as worthy as any one hereabouts.\nNor do I think that any one of you all has done more worthily in his\ndegree than I have done in my degree. As for any lack of worship that\nmay befall me for riding thus, I may say that the adventure which I have\nundertaken just now to perform is in itself so worthy that it will make\nworthy any man who may undertake it, no matter how he may ride to that\nadventure. Now I had thought to ask of you a fresh horse, but since your\npeople mock at me and since you rebuke me so discourteously, I will ask\nyou for nothing. Wherefore, to show you that knightly worthiness does\nnot depend upon the way a knight may ride, I herewith make my vow that I\nwill not mount upon horseback until my quest is achieved; nor will I\nride to that adventure in any other way than in this poor cart wherein I\nnow stand.\"\n\nSo Sir Launcelot rode away in his cart from those castle-folk. And he\nrode thus down into the valley and through the town that was in the\nvalley in the fagotmaker's cart, and all who beheld him laughed at him\nand mocked him. For, as he passed along the way, many came and looked\ndown upon him from out of the windows of the houses; and others ran\nalong beside the cart and all laughed and jeered at him to see him thus\nriding in a cart as though to a hanging. But all this Sir Launcelot bore\nwith great calmness of demeanor, both because of his pride and because\nof the vow that he had made. Wherefore he continued to ride in that cart\nalthough he might easily have got him a fresh horse from the lord of the\ncastle.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow turn we to the castle of Sir Mellegrans, where Queen Guinevere and\nher court were held prisoners.\n\nFirst of all you are to know that that part of the castle wherein she\nand her court were held overlooked the road which led up to the gate of\nthe castle. Wherefore it came about that one of the damsels of the\nQueen, looking out of the window of the chamber wherein the Queen was\nheld prisoner, beheld a knight armed at all points, coming riding\nthitherward in a cart. Beholding this sight, she fell to laughing,\nwhereat the Queen said, \"What is it you laugh at?\" That damsel cried\nout: \"Lady, Lady, look, see! What a strange sight! Yonder is a knight\nriding in a cart as though he were upon his way to a hanging!\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Queen beholds Sir Launcelot riding in a cart._]\n\nThen Queen Guinevere came to the window and looked out, and several came\nand looked out also. At first none of them wist who it was that rode in\nthat cart. But when the cart had come a little nearer to where they\nwere, the Queen knew who he was, for she beheld the device upon the\nshield, even from afar, and she knew that the knight was Sir Launcelot.\nThen the Queen turned to the damsel and said to her: \"You laugh without\nknowing what it is you laugh at. Yonder gentleman is no subject for a\njest, for he is without any doubt the worthiest knight of any who ever\nwore golden spurs.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percydes is offended with Sir Launcelot._]\n\nNow amongst those who stood there looking out of the window were Sir\nPercydes and Sir Brandiles and Sir Ironside, and in a little Sir\nPercydes also saw the device of Sir Launcelot and therewith knew who it\nwas who rode in the cart. But when Sir Percydes knew that that knight\nwas Sir Launcelot, he was greatly offended that he, who was the chiefest\nknight of the Round Table, should ride in a cart in that wise. So Sir\nPercydes said to the Queen: \"Lady, I believe yonder knight is none other\nthan Sir Launcelot of the Lake.\" And Queen Guinevere said, \"It is\nassuredly he.\" Sir Percydes said: \"Then I take it to be a great shame\nthat the chiefest knight of the Round Table should ride so in a cart as\nthough he were a felon law-breaker. For the world will assuredly hear\nof this and it will be made a jest in every court of chivalry. And all\nwe who are his companions in arms and who are his brethren of the Round\nTable will be made a jest and a laughing-stock along with him.\"\n\nThus spake Sir Percydes, and the other knights who were there and all\nthe ladies who were there agreed with him that it was great shame for\nSir Launcelot to come thus to save the Queen, riding in a cart.\n\nBut the Queen said: \"Messires and ladies, I take no care for the manner\nin which Sir Launcelot cometh, for I believe he cometh for to rescue us\nfrom this captivity, and if so be he is successful in that undertaking,\nthen it will not matter how he cometh to perform so worthy a deed of\nknighthood as that.\"\n\nThus all they were put to silence by the Queen's words; but nevertheless\nand afterward those knights who were there still held amongst themselves\nthat it was great shame for Sir Launcelot to come thus in a cart to\nrescue the Queen, instead of first getting for himself a horse whereon\nto ride as became a knight-errant of worthiness and respect.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow you are to know that the Green Knight, who was the head of that\nparty that tried to stand against Sir Launcelot at the bridge as\naforesaid, when he beheld that the horse of Sir Launcelot was shot, rode\naway from the place of battle with his men, and that he never stopped\nnor stayed until he had reached the castle of Sir Mellegrans. There\ncoming, he went straightway to where Sir Mellegrans was and told Sir\nMellegrans all that had befallen, and how that Sir Launcelot had\novercome them all with his single hand at the bridge of the torrent. And\nhe told Sir Mellegrans that haply Sir Launcelot would be coming to that\nplace before a very great while had passed, although he had been delayed\nbecause his horse had been slain.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Mellegrans feareth Sir Launcelot._]\n\nAt that Sir Mellegrans was put to great anxiety, for he also knew that\nSir Launcelot would be likely to be at that place before a very great\nwhile, and he wist that there would be great trouble for him when that\nshould come to pass. So he began to cast about very busily in his mind\nfor some scheme whereby he might destroy Sir Launcelot. And at last he\nhit upon a scheme; and that scheme was unworthy of him both as a knight\nand as a gentleman.\n\nSo when news was brought to Sir Mellegrans that Sir Launcelot was there\nin front of the castle in a cart, Sir Mellegrans went down to the\nbarbican of the castle and looked out of a window of the barbican and\nbeheld Sir Launcelot where he stood in the cart before the gate of the\ncastle. And Sir Mellegrans said, \"Sir Launcelot, is it thou who art\nthere in the cart?\"\n\nSir Launcelot replied: \"Yea, thou traitor knight, it is I, and I come to\ntell thee thou shalt not escape my vengeance either now or at some\nother time unless thou set free the Queen and all her court and make due\nreparation to her and to them and to me for all the harm you have\nwrought upon us.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Mellegrans speaketh to Sir Launcelot._]\n\nTo this Sir Mellegrans spake in a very soft and humble tone of voice,\nsaying: \"Messire, I have taken much thought, and I now much repent me of\nall that I have done. For though my provocation hath been great, yet I\nhave done extremely ill in all this that hath happened, so I am of a\nmind to make reparation for what I have done. Yet I know not how to make\nsuch reparation without bringing ruin upon myself. If thou wilt\nintercede with me before the Queen in this matter, I will let thee into\nthis castle and I myself will take thee to her where she is. And after I\nhave been forgiven what I have done, then ye shall all go free, and I\nwill undertake to deliver myself unto the mercy of King Arthur and will\nrender all duty unto him.\"\n\nAt this repentance of Sir Mellegrans Sir Launcelot was very greatly\nastonished. But yet he was much adoubt as to the true faith of that\nknight; wherefore he said: \"Sir Knight, how may I know that that which\nthou art telling me is the truth?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Sir Mellegrans, \"it is small wonder, I dare say, that thou\nhast doubt of my word. But I will prove my faith to thee in this: I will\ncome to thee unarmed as I am at this present, and I will admit thee into\nmy castle, and I will lead thee to the Queen. And as thou art armed and\nI am unarmed, thou mayest easily slay me if so be thou seest that I make\nany sign of betraying thee.\"\n\nBut still Sir Launcelot was greatly adoubt, and wist not what to think\nof that which Sir Mellegrans said. But after a while, and after he had\nconsidered the matter for a space, he said: \"If all this that thou\ntellest me is true, Sir Knight, then come down and let me into this\ncastle as thou hast promised to do, for I will venture that much upon\nthy faith. But if I see that thou hast a mind to deal falsely by me,\nthen I will indeed slay thee as thou hast given me leave to do.\" And Sir\nMellegrans said, \"I am content.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Mellegrans kneels to Sir Launcelot._]\n\nSo Sir Mellegrans went down from where he was and he gave command that\nthe gates of the castle should be opened. And when the gates were opened\nhe went forth to where Sir Launcelot was. And Sir Launcelot descended\nfrom the fagotmaker's cart, and Sir Mellegrans kneeled down before him,\nand he set his palms together and he said, \"Sir Launcelot, I crave thy\npardon for what I have done.\"\n\nSir Launcelot said: \"Sir Knight, if indeed thou meanest no further\ntreachery, thou hast my pardon and I will also intercede with the Queen\nto pardon thee as well. So take me straightway to her, for until I\nbehold her with mine own eyes I cannot believe altogether in thy\nrepentance.\" Then Sir Mellegrans arose and said, \"Come, and I will take\nthee to her.\"\n\nSo Sir Mellegrans led the way into the castle and Sir Launcelot followed\nafter him with his naked sword in his hand. And Sir Mellegrans led the\nway deep into the castle and along several passageways and still Sir\nLauncelot followed after him with his drawn sword, ready for to slay him\nif he should show sign of treason.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot falleth into the pit._]\n\nNow there was in a certain part of that castle and in the midst of a\nlong passageway a trap-door that opened through the floor of the\npassageway and so into a deep and gloomy pit beneath. And this trap-door\nwas controlled by a cunning latch of which Sir Mellegrans alone knew the\nsecret; for when Sir Mellegrans would touch the latch with his finger,\nthe trap-door would immediately fall open into the pit beneath. So\nthitherward to that place Sir Mellegrans led the way and Sir Launcelot\nfollowed. And Sir Mellegrans passed over that trap-door in safety, but\nwhen Sir Launcelot had stepped upon the trap-door, Sir Mellegrans\ntouched the spring that controlled the latch with his finger, and the\ntrap-door immediately opened beneath Sir Launcelot and Sir Launcelot\nfell down into the pit beneath. And the pit was very deep indeed and the\nfloor thereof was of stone, so that when Sir Launcelot fell he smote the\nstone floor so violently that he was altogether bereft of his senses and\nlay there in the pit like to one who was dead.\n\nThen Sir Mellegrans came back to the open space of the trap-door and he\nlooked down into the pit beneath and beheld Sir Launcelot where he lay.\nThereupon Sir Mellegrans laughed and he cried out, \"Sir Launcelot, what\ncheer have you now?\" But Sir Launcelot answered not.\n\nThen Sir Mellegrans laughed again, and he closed the trap-door and went\naway, and he said to himself: \"Now indeed have I such hostages in my\nkeeping that King Arthur must needs set right this wrong he hath\naforetime done me. For I now have in my keeping not only his Queen, but\nalso the foremost knight of his Round Table; wherefore King Arthur must\nneeds come to me to make such terms with me as I shall determine.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAs for Queen Guinevere, she waited with her court for a long time for\nnews of Sir Launcelot, for she wist that now Sir Launcelot was there at\nthat place she must needs have news of him sooner or later. But no news\ncame to her; wherefore, as time passed by, she took great trouble\nbecause she had no news, and she said: \"Alas, if ill should have\nbefallen that good worthy knight at the hands of the treacherous lord of\nthis castle!\"\n\nBut she knew not how great at that very time was the ill into which Sir\nLauncelot had fallen, nor of how he was even then lying like as one dead\nin the pit beneath the floor of the passageway.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: The Damsel Elouise the Fair rescues Sir Launcelot]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Third\n\n_How Sir Launcelot was rescued from the pit and how he overcame Sir\nMellegrans and set free the Queen and her court from the duress they\nwere in._\n\n\nNow when Sir Launcelot awoke from that swoon into which he was cast by\nfalling so violently into the pit, he found himself to be in a very sad,\nmiserable case. For he lay there upon the hard stones of the floor and\nall about him there was a darkness so great that there was not a single\nray of light that penetrated into it.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot lyeth in the pit._]\n\nSo for a while Sir Launcelot knew not where he was; but by and by he\nremembered that he was in the castle of Sir Mellegrans, and he\nremembered all that had befallen him, and therewith, when he knew\nhimself to be a prisoner in so miserable a condition, he groaned with\ndolor and distress, for he was at that time in great pain both of mind\nand body. Then he cried out in a very mournful voice: \"Woe is me that I\nshould have placed any faith in a traitor such as this knight hath from\nthe very beginning shown himself to be! For here am I now cast into this\ndismal prison, and know not how I shall escape from it to bring succor\nto those who so greatly need my aid at this moment.\"\n\nSo Sir Launcelot bemoaned and lamented himself, but no one heard him,\nfor he was there all alone in that miserable dungeon and in a darkness\ninto which no ray of light could penetrate.\n\nThen Sir Launcelot bent his mind to think of how he might escape from\nthat place, but though he thought much, yet he could not devise any way\nin which he might mend the evil case in which he found himself;\nwherefore he was altogether overwhelmed with despair. And by that time\nit had grown to be about the dead of the night.\n\nNow as Sir Launcelot lay there in such despair of spirit as aforetold\nof, he was suddenly aware that there came a gleam of light shining in a\ncertain place, and he was aware the light grew ever brighter and\nbrighter and he beheld that it came through the cracks of a door. And by\nand by he heard the sound of keys from without and immediately afterward\nthe door opened and there entered into that place a damsel bearing a\nlighted lamp in her hand.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elouise findeth Sir Launcelot._]\n\nAt first Sir Launcelot knew not who she was, and then he knew her and\nlo! that damsel was the Lady Elouise the Fair, the daughter of King\nBagdemagus and sister unto Sir Mellegrans; and she was the same who had\naforetime rescued him when he had been prisoner to Queen Morgana le Fay,\nas hath been told you in a former book of this history.\n\nSo Elouise the Fair came into that dismal place, bringing with her the\nlighted lamp, and Sir Launcelot beheld that her eyes were red with\nweeping. Then Sir Launcelot, beholding that she had been thus weeping,\nsaid: \"Lady, what is it that ails you? Is there aught that I can do for\nto comfort you?\" To this she said naught, but came to where Sir\nLauncelot was and looked at him for a long while. By and by she said:\n\"Woe is me to find thee thus, Sir Launcelot! And woe is me that it\nshould have been mine own brother that should have brought thee to this\npass!\"\n\nSir Launcelot was much moved to see her so mournful and he said: \"Lady,\ntake comfort to thyself, for whatever evil thing Sir Mellegrans may have\ndone to me, naught of reproach or blame can fall thereby upon thee, for\nI shall never cease to remember how thou didst one time save me from a\nvery grievous captivity.\"\n\nThe Lady Elouise said: \"Launcelot, I cannot bear to see so noble a\nknight as thou art lying thus in duress. So it is that I come hither to\naid thee. Now if I set thee free wilt thou upon thy part show mercy unto\nmy brother for my sake?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"this is a hard case thou puttest to me, for\nI would do much for thy sake. But I would have thee wist that it is my\nendeavor to help in my small way to punish evil-doers so that the world\nmay be made better by that punishment. Wherefore because this knight\nhath dealt so treacherously with my lady the Queen, so it must needs be\nthat I must seek to punish him if ever I can escape from this place. But\nif it so befalls that I do escape, this much mercy will I show to Sir\nMellegrans for thy sake: I will meet him in fair field, as one knight\nmay meet another knight in that wise. And I will show him such courtesy\nas one knight may show another in time of battle. Such mercy will I show\nthy brother and meseems that is all that may rightly be asked of me.\"\n\nThen Elouise the Fair began weeping afresh, and she said: \"Alas,\nLauncelot! I fear me that my brother will perish at thy hands if so be\nthat it cometh to a battle betwixt you twain. And how could I bear it to\nhave my brother perish in that way and at thy hands?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"the fate of battle lyeth ever in God His\nhands and not in the hands of men. It may befall any man to die who\ndoeth battle, and such a fate may be mine as well as thy brother's. So\ndo thou take courage, for whilst I may not pledge myself to avoid an\nordeal of battle with Sir Mellegrans, yet it may be his good hap that he\nmay live and that I may die.\"\n\n\"Alas, Launcelot,\" quoth the Fair Elouise, \"and dost thou think that it\nwould be any comfort to me to have thee die at the hands of mine own\nbrother? That is but poor comfort to me who am the sister of this\nmiserable man. Yet let it be as it may hap, I cannot find it in my heart\nto let thee lie here in this place, for thou wilt assuredly die in this\ndark and miserable dungeon if I do not aid thee. So once more will I set\nthee free as I did aforetime when thou wast captive to Queen Morgana le\nFay, and I will do my duty by thee as the daughter of a king and the\ndaughter of a true knight may do. As to that which shall afterward\nbefall, that will I trust to the mercy of God to see that it shall all\nhappen as He shall deem best.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elouise bringeth Sir Launcelot out of a pit._]\n\nSo saying, the damsel Elouise the Fair bade Sir Launcelot to arise and\nto follow her, and he did so. And she led him out from that place and up\na long flight of steps and so to a fair large chamber that was high up\nin a tower of the castle and under the eaves of the roof. And Sir\nLauncelot beheld that everything was here prepared for his coming; for\nthere was a table at that place set with bread and meat and with several\nflagons of wine for his refreshment. And there was in that place a\nsilver ewer full of cold, clear water, and that there was a basin of\nsilver, and that there were several napkins of fine linen such as are\nprepared for knights to dry their hands upon. All these had been\nprepared for him against his coming, and at that sight he was greatly\nuplifted with satisfaction.\n\nSo Sir Launcelot bathed his face and his hands in the water and he dried\nthem upon the napkins. And he sat him down at the table and he ate and\ndrank with great appetite and the Lady Elouise the Fair served him. And\nso Sir Launcelot was greatly comforted in body and in spirit by that\nrefreshment which she had prepared for him.\n\nThen after Sir Launcelot had thus satisfied the needs of his hunger, the\nLady Elouise led him to another room and there showed him where was a\nsoft couch spread with flame-colored linen and she said, \"Here shalt\nthou rest at ease to-night, and in the morning I shall bring thy sword\nand thy shield to thee.\" Therewith she left Sir Launcelot to his repose\nand he laid him down upon the couch and slept with great content.\n\nSo he slept very soundly all that night and until the next morning,\nwhat time, the Lady Elouise came to him as she promised and fetched\nunto him his sword and his shield. These she gave unto him, saying: \"Sir\nKnight, I know not whether I be doing evil or good in the sight of\nHeaven in thus purveying thee with thy weapons; ne'theless, I cannot\nfind it in my heart to leave thee unprotected in this place without the\nwherewithal for to defend thyself against thine enemies; for that would\nbe indeed to compass thy death for certain.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot hath his weapons again._]\n\nThen Sir Launcelot was altogether filled with joy to have his weapons\nagain, and he gave thanks to the Lady Elouise without measure. And after\nthat he hung his sword at his side and set his shield upon his shoulder\nand thereupon felt fear of no man in all of that world, whomsoever that\none might be.\n\nAfter that, and after he had broken his fast, Sir Launcelot went forth\nfrom out of the chamber where he had abided that night, and he went down\ninto the castle and into the courtyard of the castle, and every one was\ngreatly astonished at his coming, for they deemed him to be still a\nprisoner in that dungeon into which he had fallen.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot challenges the castle._]\n\nSo all these, when they beheld him coming, full armed and with his sword\nin his hand, fled away from before the face of Sir Launcelot, and no one\nundertook to stay him in his going. So Sir Launcelot reached the\ncourtyard of the castle, and when he was come there he set his horn to\nhis lips, and blew a blast that sounded terribly loud and shrill\nthroughout the entire place.\n\nMeantime, there was great hurrying hither and thither in the castle and\na loud outcry of many voices, and many came to the windows and looked\ndown into the courtyard and there beheld Sir Launcelot standing clad in\nfull armor, glistening very bright in the morning light of the sun.\n\nMeantime several messengers had run to where Sir Mellegrans was and told\nhim that Sir Launcelot had escaped out of that pit wherein he had fallen\nand that he was there in the courtyard of the castle in full armor.\n\nAt that Sir Mellegrans was overwhelmed with amazement, and a great fear\nseized upon him and gripped at his vitals. And after a while he too went\nby, to a certain place whence he could look down into the courtyard, and\nthere he also beheld Sir Launcelot where he stood shining in the\nsunlight.\n\nNow at that moment Sir Launcelot lifted up his eyes and espied Sir\nMellegrans where he was at the window of that place, and immediately he\nknew Sir Mellegrans. Thereupon he cried out in a loud voice: \"Sir\nMellegrans, thou traitor knight! Come down and do battle, for here I\nawait thee to come and meet me.\"\n\nBut when Sir Mellegrans heard those words he withdrew very hastily from\nthe window where he was, and he went away in great terror to a certain\nroom where he might be alone. For beholding Sir Launcelot thus free of\nthat dungeon from which he had escaped he knew not what to do to flee\nfrom his wrath. Wherefore he said to himself: \"Fool that I was, to bring\nthis knight into my castle, when I might have kept him outside as long\nas I chose to do so! What now shall I do to escape from his vengeance?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Mellegrans taketh counsel._]\n\nSo after a while Sir Mellegrans sent for several of his knights and he\ntook counsel of them as to what he should do in this pass. These say to\nhim: \"Messire, you yourself to fulfil your schemes have brought yonder\nknight into this place, when God knows he could not have come in of his\nown free will. So now that he is here, it behooves you to go and arm\nyourself at all points and to go down to the courtyard, there to meet\nhim and to do battle with him. For only by overcoming him can you hope\nto escape his vengeance.\"\n\nBut Sir Mellegrans feared Sir Launcelot with all his heart, wherefore he\nsaid: \"Nay, I will not go down to yonder knight. For wit ye he is the\ngreatest knight alive, and if I go to do battle with him, it will be of\na surety that I go to my death. Wherefore, I will not go.\"\n\nThen Sir Mellegrans called a messenger to him and he said: \"Go down to\nyonder knight in the courtyard and tell him that I will not do battle\nwith him.\"\n\nSo the messenger went to Sir Launcelot and delivered that message to\nhim. But when Sir Launcelot heard what it was that the messenger said to\nhim from Sir Mellegrans, he laughed with great scorn. Then he said to\nthe messenger, \"Doth the knight of this castle fear to meet me?\" The\nmessenger said, \"Yea, Messire.\" Sir Launcelot said: \"Then take thou this\nmessage to him: that I will lay aside my shield and my helm and that I\nwill unarm all the left side of my body, and thus, half naked, will I\nfight him if only he will come down and do battle with me.\"\n\nSo saying, the messenger departed as Sir Launcelot bade, and came to Sir\nMellegrans and delivered that message to him as Sir Launcelot had said.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot offers to fight Sir Mellegrans in\nhalf-armor._]\n\nThen Sir Mellegrans said to those who were with him: \"Now I will go down\nand do battle with this knight, for never will I have a better chance of\novercoming him than this.\" Therewith he turned to that messenger, and he\nsaid: \"Go! Hasten back to yonder knight, and tell him that I will do\nbattle with him upon those conditions he offers, to wit: that he shall\nunarm his left side, and that he shall lay aside his shield and his\nhelm. And tell him that by the time he hath made him ready in that\nwise, I will be down to give him what satisfaction I am able.\"\n\nSo the messenger departed upon that command, and Sir Mellegrans departed\nto arm himself for battle.\n\nThen, after the messenger had delivered the message that Sir Mellegrans\nhad given him, Sir Launcelot laid aside his shield and his helm as he\nhad agreed to do, and he removed his armor from his left side so that he\nwas altogether unarmed upon that side.\n\nAfter a while Sir Mellegrans appeared, clad all in armor from top to\ntoe, and baring himself with great confidence, for he felt well assured\nof victory in that encounter. Thus he came very proudly nigh to where\nSir Launcelot was, and he said: \"Here am I, Sir Knight, come to do you\nservice since you will have it so.\"\n\nSir Launcelot said: \"I am ready to meet thee thus or in any other way,\nso that I may come at thee at all.\"\n\nAfter that each knight dressed himself for combat, and all those who\nwere in the castle gathered at the windows and the galleries above, and\nlooked down upon the two knights.\n\nThen they two came slowly together, and when they were pretty nigh to\none another Sir Launcelot offered his left side so as to allow Sir\nMellegrans to strike at him. And when Sir Mellegrans perceived this\nchance, he straightway lashed a great blow at Sir Launcelot's unarmed\nside with all his might and main, and with full intent to put an end to\nthe battle with that one blow.\n\nBut Sir Launcelot was well prepared for that stroke, wherefore he very\ndexterously and quickly turned himself to one side so that he received\nthe blow upon the side which was armed, and at the same time he put\naside a part of the blow with his sword. So that blow came to naught.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot slayeth Sir Mellegrans._]\n\nBut so violent was the stroke that Sir Mellegrans had lashed that he\noverreached himself, and ere he could recover himself, Sir Launcelot\nlashed at him a great buffet that struck him fairly upon the helm. And\nthen again he lashed at him ere he fell and both this stroke of the\nsword and the other cut deep through the helm and into the brain pan of\nSir Mellegrans, so that he fell down upon the ground and lay there\nwithout motion of any sort. Then Sir Launcelot stood over him, and\ncalled to those who were near to come and look to their lord, and\nthereat there came several running. These lifted Sir Mellegrans up and\nremoved his helmet so as to give him air to breathe. And they looked\nupon his face, and lo! even then the spirit was passing from him, for he\nnever opened his eyes to look upon the splendor of the sun again.\n\nThen when those of the castle saw how it was with Sir Mellegrans and\nthat even then he was dead, they lifted up their voices with great\nlamentation so that the entire castle rang presently with their outcries\nand wailings.\n\nBut Sir Launcelot cried out: \"This knight hath brought this upon himself\nbecause of the treason he hath done; wherefore the blame is his own.\"\nAnd then he said: \"Where is the porter of this castle? Go, fetch him\nhither!\"\n\nSo in a little while the porter came, and Sir Launcelot made demand of\nhim: \"Where is it that the Queen and her court are held prisoners? Bring\nme to them, Sirrah?\"\n\nThen the porter of the castle bowed down before Sir Launcelot and he\nsaid, \"Messire, I will do whatever you command me to do,\" for he was\noverwhelmed with the terror of Sir Launcelot's wrath as he had displayed\nit that day. And the porter said, \"Messire, have mercy on us all and I\nwill take you to the Queen.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot rescueth the Queen._]\n\nSo the porter brought Sir Launcelot to where the Queen was, and where\nwere those others with her. Then all these gave great joy and loud\nacclaim that Sir Launcelot had rescued them out of their captivity. And\nQueen Guinevere said: \"What said I to you awhile since? Did I not say\nthat it mattered not how Sir Launcelot came hither even if it were in a\ncart? For lo! though he came thus humbly and in lowly wise, yet he hath\ndone marvellous deeds of knightly prowess, and hath liberated us all\nfrom our captivity.\"\n\nAfter that Sir Launcelot commanded them that they should make ready such\nhorses as might be needed. And he commanded that they should fetch\nlitters for those knights of the Queen's court who had been wounded, and\nall that was done as he commanded. After that they all departed from\nthat place and turned their way toward Camelot and the court of the\nKing.\n\nBut Sir Launcelot did not again see that damsel Elouise the Fair, for\nshe kept herself close shut in her own bower and would see naught of any\none because of the grief and the shame of all that had passed. At that\nSir Launcelot took much sorrow, for he was greatly grieved that he\nshould have brought any trouble upon one who had been so friendly with\nhim as she had been. Yet he wist not how he could otherwise have done\nthan as he did do, and he could think of naught to comfort her.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo ends this adventure of the Knight of the Cart with only this to say:\nthat after that time there was much offence taken that Sir Launcelot had\ngone upon that adventure riding in a cart. For many jests were made of\nit as I have said, and many of the King's court were greatly grieved\nthat so unworthy a thing should have happened.\n\n[Sidenote: _His kinsmen chide Sir Launcelot._]\n\nMore especially were the kinsmen of Sir Launcelot offended at what he\nhad done. Wherefore Sir Lionel and Sir Ector came to Sir Launcelot and\nSir Ector said to him: \"That was a very ill thing you did to ride to\nthat adventure in a cart. Now prythee tell us why you did such a thing\nas that when you might easily have got a fresh horse for to ride upon if\nyou had chosen to do so.\"\n\nTo this Sir Launcelot made reply with much heat: \"I know not why you\nshould take it upon you to meddle in this affair. For that which I did,\nI did of mine own free will, and it matters not to any other man.\nMoreover, I deem that it matters not how I went upon that quest so that\nI achieved my purpose in a knightly fashion. For I have yet to hear any\none say that I behaved in any way such as a true knight should not\nbehave.\"\n\n\"For the matter of that,\" said Sir Ector, \"thy knighthood is\nsufficiently attested, not only in this, but in many other affairs. But\nthat which shames us who are of thy blood, and they who are thy\ncompanions at arms, is that thou shouldst have achieved thy quest in so\nunknightly a fashion instead of with that dignity befitting a very\nworthy undertaking. For dost thou not know that thou art now called\neverywhere 'The Chevalier of the Cart' and that songs are made of this\nadventure and that jests are made concerning it?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot covereth his shield._]\n\nThen Sir Launcelot was filled with great anger, and he went to his inn\nand took his shield and laced a sheet of leather over the face thereof.\nThereafter he painted the leather covering of the shield a pure white so\nthat it might not be known what was the device thereon, nor who was the\nknight who bare that shield. Then after he had done this he armed\nhimself and took horse and rode forth errant and alone, betaking his way\nhe knew not whither but suffering his horse to wander upon whatsoever\npath it choose.\n\nThus Sir Launcelot departed in anger from the court of King Arthur, and\nafter that, excepting one time, he was not seen in the court of the King\nagain for the space of two years, during which time there was much\nsorrow at the court, because he was no longer there.\n\n\n\n\nPART II\n\nThe Story of Sir Gareth of Orkney\n\n\n_And now followeth the history of Sir Gareth of Orkney, who came unknown\nto the court of his uncle, King Arthur; who was there treated with great\nindignity by Sir Kay the Seneschal; who was befriended by his brother,\nSir Gawaine, and who afterward went errant with a damsel hight Lynette,\nmeeting whilst with her several bel-adventures which shall hereinafter\nbe duly told of.\n\nSo if you would know how it fared with that young knight, you must cease\nto consider the further adventures of Sir Launcelot at this place, and\nmust now read of those other adventures of this youth, who was the\nyoungest son of King Lot and Queen Margaise of Orkney. But after they\nare ended, then shall the further history of the adventures of Sir\nLauncelot be considered once more._\n\n[Illustration: Sir Gareth of Orkney]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter First\n\n_How Sir Gareth of Orkney came to the Castle of Kynkennedon where King\nArthur was holding court, and how it fared with him at that place._\n\n\n[Sidenote: _Of Gareth of Orkney._]\n\nThe youngest son of King Lot of Orkney and of his Queen, who was the\nLady Margaise, sister of King Arthur, was a youth hight Gareth of\nOrkney. This young, noble, high-born prince was the most beautiful of\nall his royal race, for not only was he exceedingly tall and stalwart of\nframe--standing a full head bigger than the biggest of any at his\nfather's court--and not only was he the strongest and the most agile and\nthe most skilful at all knightly sports, and not only was he gentle in\nspeech and exceedingly courteous in demeanor to all with whom he held\ndiscourse, but he was so beautiful of countenance that I do not believe\nthat an angel of Paradise could be more fair to look upon than he. For\nhis hair was bright and ruddy, shining like to pure gold, his cheeks\nwere red and they and his chin were covered over with a soft and budding\nbloom of beard like to a dust of gold upon his face; his eyes were blue\nand shining and his neck and throat were round and white like to a\npillar of alabaster.\n\n[Sidenote: _How they of the court praise Gareth._]\n\nNow King Lot and Queen Margaise loved Gareth above any of their other\nchildren, and so it befell that all those who dwelt at the King's court\ntook every occasion to praise young Gareth, both to his face and before\nthe faces of the King and Queen, his father and mother. For these would\nsometimes say: \"Lo! this youth sendeth forth such a glory of royal\nbeauty and grace and dignity from him that even were he clad in fustian\ninstead of cloth of gold yet would all the world know him to be of royal\nstrain as plainly as though he were clothed in royal attire fitting for\nsuch a princely youth to wear. For, behold! the splendor of his royalty\nlieth in his spirit and not in his raiment, and so it is that it shineth\nforth from his countenance.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Queen Margaise bespeaketh Gareth._]\n\nNow it came to pass that when Gareth was twenty years of age, his\nmother, Queen Margaise, called him to her in her bower where she was\nwith her maidens, and she bade him to sit down beside her and he did as\nshe commanded, taking his place upon a couch spread with purple cloth\nembroidered with silver lions whereon the Queen was sitting at that\ntime. Then Queen Margaise gazed long upon her beautiful son, and her\nheart yearned over him with pride and glory because of his strength and\ngrace. And by and by she said: \"My son, now that thou hast reached to\nthe fulness of thy stature and girth and art come to the threshold of\nthy manhood, it is time for thee to win for thyself the glory of\nknighthood such as shall become thee, earning it by such deeds as shall\nbe worthy of the royal race from which thou hast sprung. Accordingly, I\nwould now have it that thou shouldst go to the court of my brother, King\nArthur, and that thou shouldst there take thy stand with that noble and\nworthy companionship of the Champions of the Round Table, of whom thy\nbrothers shine forth like bright planets in the midst of a galaxy of\nstars. So I would have it that thou shouldst go to the court of the\ngreat King, my brother, a week from to-day, and to that end I would have\nit that thou shouldst go in charge of three of the noblest lords of this\ncourt and in such a state of pomp and circumstance as may befit one who\nis, as thou art, the son of a royal father and mother and the nephew of\nthat great King who is the overlord of this entire realm.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Gareth departeth for the court of King Arthur._]\n\nThus spake Queen Margaise, and in accordance with that saying Gareth set\nforth a sennight from that time for the court of King Arthur. With him\nthere rode three very noble haughty lords of the court as the Queen had\nordained, and with these went esquires and attendants to the number of\nthreescore ten and four. In the midst of that company young Gareth rode\nupon a cream white horse, and all the harness and furnishings of the\nhorse upon which he rode were of gold, and the saddle upon which he sat\nwas stamped with gold and riveted with rivets of gold, and Gareth\nhimself was clad all in cloth of gold, so, what with all of these and\nhis fair beautiful face in the bright sunlight (the day being\nwonderfully clear and fair) the royal youth appeared to shine with such\na glistering splendor that it was as though a star of remarkable glory\nhad fallen from the heavens and had found lodgment in his person upon\nthe earth.\n\nSo it was that the young Gareth rode forth upon his way to the court of\nhis uncle, the King.\n\nThat evening, he and his company rested for the night in a glade of the\nforest and there the attendants set up a pavilion of purple silk for\nhim. Around about this pavilion were other pavilions for those three\nlords who accompanied him as his companions in the journey and for their\nesquires and attendants.\n\nNow that night Gareth lodged alone in his pavilion saving only that his\ndwarf, Axatalese, lay within the tent nigh to the door thereof. And it\ncame to pass that Gareth could not sleep that night but lay awake,\nlooking into the darkness and thinking of many things. And he said to\nhimself: \"Why is it that I should go thus in state to the court of the\nKing and in that wise to win his especial favor? Lo! It were better that\nI should go as any other youth of birth and breeding rather than in this\nroyal estate. For, if I am worthy, as men say of me, then my worth shall\nbe made manifest by my deeds and not because of the state in which I\ntravel.\"\n\nThus Gareth communed within himself and he said: \"I will go to the court\nof mine uncle the King as a simple traveller and not as a prince\ntravelling in state.\"\n\nSo somewhat before the dawning of the day, he arose very softly and went\nto where the dwarf lay, and he touched Axatalese upon the shoulder, and\nhe said, \"Axatalese, awake.\" Thereupon the dwarf awoke and sat up and\nlooked about him in the darkness of the dawning, bewildered by the sleep\nthat still beclouded his brain.\n\nThen Gareth said, still speaking in a whisper: \"Listen to what I say,\nbut make no noise lest you arouse those who lay around about us.\" And\nAxatalese said, \"Lord, I listen, and I will be silent.\"\n\nThen Gareth said: \"Axatalese, arise and fetch me hither some garments of\nplain green cloth, and aid me to clothe myself in those garments. Then\nthou and I will go forward alone and without attendants to King Arthur's\ncourt. For so I would come before the King in that guise and not\ntravelling in the estate of a prince who may claim his favor because of\nthe chance of birth. For I would have it that whatsoever good fortune I\nwin, that fortune should come to me by mine own endeavor, and not\nbecause of the accident of birth.\"\n\nThen Axatalese was greatly troubled, and he said: \"Lord, think well of\nwhat you do, for, lo! your mother, the Queen, hath provided this escort\nfor you; wherefore, haply, she will be very angry if you should do as\nyou say, and should depart from those whom she appointed to accompany\nyou.\"\n\n\"No matter,\" quoth Gareth; \"let that be as it may, but do you as I tell\nyou and go you straightway, very quietly, and carry out my commands. And\nsee to it that no one shall be disturbed in your going or coming, for it\nis my purpose that we two shall go privily away from this place and that\nno one shall be aware of our going.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Gareth escapeth from his companions._]\n\nSo spake Gareth, and Axatalese was aware that his command must be\nobeyed. So the dwarf went very quietly to do Gareth's bidding, and anon\nhe returned with the clothes of a certain one of the attendants, and the\nclothes were of plain green cloth, and Gareth clad himself in that\nsimple raiment. Then he and the dwarf went forth from the pavilion and\nthey went to where the horses were, and they chose two of the horses and\nsaddled them and bridled them with saddles and harness and trappings of\nplain leather, such as the least of the attendants might use--and in all\nof that time no one of those in attendance upon Gareth was aware of what\nhe had done. Then Gareth and the dwarf rode away from that place and\nstill all the others slept, and they slept for a long while after.\n\nAnd be it here said that when those three lords who were in charge of\nGareth awoke and found that he and Axatalese were gone, they were filled\nwith terror and dismay, for they wist not why he was gone nor whither,\nand they dreaded the anger of the Queen, Gareth's mother. Then the chief\nof those lords said: \"Lo! here are we betrayed by this young prince and\nhis dwarf. For he hath left us and taken himself away, we know not\nwhither, and so we dare not return to the court of Orkney again. For\nshould we return without him they will assuredly punish us for suffering\nhim to depart, and that punishment may come even to the taking of our\nlives.\"\n\nThen another of those lords said: \"Messire, those words are very true,\nso let us not return unto the court of Orkney, but let us escape unto\nsome other part of the realm where the wrath of the King and Queen may\nnot reach us.\"\n\nSo it was as that lord said, for straightway they departed from that\nplace and went to a part of the realm where neither the King and Queen\nof Orkney nor King Arthur might hear of them, and there they abode for\nthat time and for some time afterward.\n\n[Sidenote: _How King Arthur sat at feast._]\n\nNow at this time King Arthur was celebrating the Feast of Pentecost at\nthe Castle of Kynkennedon. With him sat all the great lords of his court\nand all the Knights-companion of the Round Table who were not upon\nadventure in some other part of the realm. As they so sat at high feast,\nfilling the hall with a great sound of merriment and good cheer,\ncommingled with the chanting of minstrels and the music of harps and\nviols, there came one to where the King sat, and he said to him: \"Lord,\nthere is a fellow without who demandeth to have speech with you, face to\nface. Nor know we what to do in this case, for he will not be gainsaid,\nbut ever maketh that demand aforesaid.\"\n\nThen King Arthur said: \"Hah! say you so? Now what manner of man is he?\nIs he a king or a duke or a high prince that he maketh such a demand as\nthat?\" \"Lord,\" said the messenger, \"he is none of these, but only a\nyouth of twenty years, tall and very large of frame and beautiful of\nface, and very proud and haughty in bearing. And he is clad like to a\nyeoman in cloth of plain green, wherefore we know not what to think of\nthat demand he maketh to have speech with you.\" King Arthur said, \"What\nattendants hath he with him?\" And the messenger said, \"He hath no\nattendants of any kind, saving only a dwarf who followeth after him.\"\n\nQuoth the King: \"Well, at this Feast of Pentecost far be it from me to\ndeny any man speech with me. So fetch this one hither that we may see\nwhat manner of man he is.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Gareth cometh before the King._]\n\nTherewith in obedience to the King's command, that attendant went forth\nand anon he returned, bringing Gareth and the dwarf Axatalese with him.\nAnd Gareth walked very proudly and haughtily up the hall and all who\nlooked upon him marvelled at his height and his girth and at the beauty\nof his countenance. And many said: \"Certes, that is a very\nnoble-appearing man to be clad in such plain raiment of green, for, from\nhis manner and his bearing, he would otherwise appear to be some\nnobleman's son, or some one of other high degree.\"\n\nSo Gareth walked up the length of the hall with all gazing upon him, and\nso he came and stood before the King and looked the King in the face,\nregarding him very steadfastly and without any fear or awe--and few\nthere were who could so regard King Arthur.\n\nNow Sir Kay the Seneschal stood behind the King's seat and when he\nbeheld how young Gareth fronted the King, look for look, he was very\nwroth at the demeanor of that youth who stood thus before that royal\nmajesty. So he spoke aloud before all those who sat there in hall,\nsaying, to Gareth: \"Sirrah, who are you who darest thus to stand with\nsuch assurance in the presence of the Great King? Wit you it is not for\nsuch as you to stand before such majesty, and have speech with it.\nRather you should veil your face and hang your head in that awful\npresence.\"\n\nThen Gareth looked at Sir Kay very calmly and he said, \"Who are you who\nspeak such words to me?\" and all were amazed at the haughtiness of his\ntones and voice.\n\nAnd King Arthur was also much astonished that a youth, clad thus like a\nyeoman, should thus speak to a great lord of the court such as Sir Kay.\nWherefore the King wist not what to think of such a bearing. Then anon\nhe said: \"Fair youth, whence come you and who are you who speaketh thus\nso boldly to a great lord of our court and before our very face?\" And\nGareth said: \"Lord, I am one who hath come hither from a great distance\nto crave two boons of you.\"\n\nQuoth the King: \"At this time, and at this Feast of Pentecost I may not\nrefuse any one a boon who asketh it of me. So, if these two boons are\nfit for one of your condition to have, they shall be granted unto you.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Gareth asketh his boon._]\n\nThen Gareth said: \"Lord, this is the first boon that I would ask of\nthee. I ask not for knighthood nor for courtly favor. All that I ask is\nthat thou wilt permit me to dwell here at court for a year and that thou\nwilt provide me with lodging and with clothing and with meat and with\ndrink for that time. Then at the end of a year, if I have proved myself\npatient to wait, I shall crave a second boon of thee.\"\n\nNow many who were there heard what it was that strange youth asked as a\nboon, and that he besought not knighthood or honor at the King's hands,\nbut bread and meat and drink and lodging, wherefore several of them\nlaughed a great deal at the nature of that boon. As for the King, he\nsmiled not, but he inclined his head very calmly and said: \"Fair youth\nif that is all the boon thou hast to ask of us at this time, then thou\nshalt have thy will with all welcome.\" And he said: \"Kay, see to it that\nthis youth hath his desires in these things, and that he hath lodging\nand clothing and food and drink for an entire year from this time.\"\n\nThen Sir Kay looked very scornfully upon Gareth and said: \"It shall be\nas you will. As for thee, fellow, I will see to it that thou art fed\nuntil thou art as fat as any porker.\"\n\nSo spake Sir Kay, and when young Gareth heard the words his face flamed\nred with wrath and the veins stood out upon his forehead like cords. But\nhe controlled his anger to calmness and anon he said: \"Messire, you do\nbut hear my words, knowing nothing of the purpose that lyeth within my\nmind. Wherefore then do you scorn me since you know naught of my\npurpose?\"\n\nThen Sir Kay looked upon the youth with anger and he said: \"Sirrah,\nthou speaketh very saucily to those who are thy betters. Learn to bridle\nthy tongue or otherwise it may be very ill with thee.\"\n\nSo spake Sir Kay, but Gareth answered him not. Otherwise he turned to\nthe King and bowed low, as though he had not heard the speech that Sir\nKay had uttered.\n\nThen he turned and went away from the King's presence with the dwarf\nAxatalese following close after him.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine loveth Gareth._]\n\nNow Sir Gawaine sat not far distant from the King and so he had heard\nall that had passed. And he beheld the indignation of Gareth against Sir\nKay, and the heart of Sir Gawaine went out very strongly toward this\nhaughty and beautiful youth--albeit he wist not why it was that he felt\nlove for him, nor that Gareth was his own brother. So it befell that\nafter Gareth had departed from the King's presence in that wise, Sir\nGawaine arose and followed after him; and when he had come up with\nGareth he touched him upon the arm and said, \"Come with me, fair youth.\"\nAnd Gareth did so. So after that Sir Gawaine led Gareth to another\nplace, and when they were come thither he said to him: \"Fair youth, I\nprythee tell me who you are and whence you come, and why it is that you\nasked such a boon as that from the King's Majesty.\"\n\nThen Gareth looked upon Sir Gawaine and knowing that it was his brother\nwhom he gazed upon he loved him a very great deal. Ne'theless he\ncontained his love and said: \"Messire, why ask you me that? See you not\nfrom the raiment I wear who I am and what is my degree? As for the boon\nwhich I asked, wit you that I asked it because I needed a roof to\nshelter me and meat and drink to sustain my life.\"\n\nThen Sir Gawaine was astonished at the pride and haughtiness of the\nyouth's reply, wherefore he said: \"Fair youth, I know not what to think;\nyet I well believe it was not for the sake of the food and drink and\nlodging that thou didst so beseech that boon of the King, for methinks\nthat thou art very different from what thou appearest to be. Now I find\nthat my heart goeth out to thee with a very singular degree of love,\nwherefore I am of a mind to take thee into my favor and to have thee\ndwell near me at mine inn.\" And Gareth said to his brother, \"Sir, thou\nart very good to me.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine traineth Gareth in knightly skill._]\n\nSo it was that after that time Sir Gawaine took Gareth into his favor\nand did many acts of kindness unto the youth. And so Gareth dwelt nigh\nto Sir Gawaine, and Sir Gawaine instructed him in the use of arms. And\never Sir Gawaine was astonished that the youth should learn so quickly\nand so well the arts of chivalry and of knighthood. For Sir Gawaine wist\nnot that Gareth had been taught many of these things, and that others\ncame easily to him by nature, because of the royal and knightly blood\nfrom which he had sprung.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Kay scorneth Gareth._]\n\nAnd ever in the same measure that Sir Gawaine bestowed his favor upon\nGareth, in that degree Sir Kay scorned him. So it came to pass that when\nSir Kay would meet Gareth he would say to whomsoever was present at that\ntime, some such words as these: \"Lo! you! this is our kitchen knave who\nhad no spirit to ask of the King's Majesty any higher boon than this,\nthat he be allowed to sup fat broth in the kitchen.\" So Sir Kay ever\ncalled Gareth a kitchen knave, and so calling him he would maybe say,\n\"Sirrah, get thee upon the other side of me, for the wind bloweth toward\nme and thou smellest vilely of the kitchen.\" And because Sir Kay\nperceived that the hands of Gareth were soft and very white he named the\nyouth \"Beaumains,\" saying, \"Look you at this kitchen knave, how fat and\nwhite are his hands from dwelling in lazy idleness.\" So Gareth was known\nas \"Beaumains\" by all those who were of the King's court.\n\nBut when Sir Gawaine heard this talk of Sir Kay he remembered him of how\nSir Percival had been one time scorned by Sir Kay in such a manner as\nthis. And Sir Gawaine said: \"Messire, let be, and torment not this\nyouth, lest evil befall thee. Remember how thou didst hold Sir Percival\nin scorn when he was a youth, and how he struck thee such a buffet that\nhe nigh broke thy neck.\"\n\nThen Sir Kay looked very sourly upon Sir Gawaine, and said, \"This\nBeaumains is not such as Sir Percival was when he was young.\" And Sir\nGawaine laughed and said, \"Nevertheless, be thou warned in season.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo it was that Gareth dwelt for a year at the King's court, eating the\nmeat of idleness. And many laughed at him and made sport of him who\nwould have paid him court and honor had they known who he was and what\nwas his estate. Yet ever Gareth contained himself in patience, biding\nhis time until it should have come, and making no complaint of the\nmanner in which he was treated.\n\nAnd now if you would hear how young Gareth won him honor and knighthood,\nI pray you read that which followeth, for therein are those things told\nof at some length.\n\n[Illustration: The Damsel Lynette]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Second\n\n_How Gareth set forth upon an adventure with a young damsel hight\nLynette; how he fought with Sir Kay, and how Sir Launcelot made him a\nknight. Also in this it is told of several other happenings that befell\nGareth, called Beaumains, at this time._\n\n\nSo passed a year as aforetold, and Gareth lodged with the household of\nKing Arthur and had food and drink as much as he desired. And in all\nthat time Gareth ate his food and drank his drink at a side table, for\nSir Kay would not permit him to sit at the same table with the lords and\nknights and ladies of the King's court. For Sir Kay would say, \"This\nkitchen knave shall not eat at table with gentle folk but at a side\ntable by himself,\" and so Gareth fed at a table by himself. And ever Sir\nKay called Gareth \"Beaumains\" in scornful jest and all the court called\nhim \"Beaumains\" because Sir Kay did so.\n\n[Sidenote: _King Arthur sitteth again at feast._]\n\nNow at the end of that year when the Feast of Pentecost had come again,\nKing Arthur was holding his court at Caerleon-upon-Usk, and at the high\nFeast of Pentecost there sat, as usual at the King's table, the lords\nand the ladies of the court and all the Knights of the Round Table who\nwere not upon adventure that took them elsewhither.\n\n[Sidenote: _A damsel appeareth before the King._]\n\nAs they so sat eating and drinking there came into the hall a slender\nmaiden of not more than sixteen years old. And the maiden was\nexceedingly beautiful, for her hair was as black as ebony and was like\nto threads of fine black silk for softness and brightness. And her eyes\nwere as black as jet and very bright and shining, and her face was like\nivory for clearness and whiteness and her lips were red like to coral\nfor redness. She was clad all in flame-colored satin, embroidered with\nthreads of gold and she wore a bright shining chaplet of gold about her\nbrows so that what with her raiment of flame-color and with her\nembroidery and ornaments of shining gold, the maiden came up the hall\nlike to a fiery vision of beauty, insomuch that all turned to behold her\nin passing, and many stood in their places that they might see her the\nbetter.\n\n[Sidenote: _The damsel asketh for a champion._]\n\nThus the damsel came up the hall until she had reached to that place\nwhere King Arthur sat at the head of the feast, and when she had come\nthere she kneeled down and set her hands together as in prayer, palm to\npalm. And King Arthur looked upon her and was pleased with her beauty,\nand he said, \"Damsel, what is it thou wouldst have of us?\" The damsel\nsaid: \"Lord, I would have the aid of some good worthy knight of thy\ncourt who should act as champion in behalf of my sister.\" And the King\nsaid, \"What ails thy sister?\"\n\nQuoth the damsel: \"Lord, my sister is tormented by a very evil disposed\nknight who maketh demand of her for wife. But my sister hateth this\nknight and will have naught to do with him, wherefore he sitteth ever\nbefore her castle and challengeth whomsoever cometh thitherward, and\nwill not suffer any one to go in to the castle or come out thence\nwithout his permission. Now I come hither upon my sister's behalf to\nseek a champion who shall liberate her from this duress.\"\n\nThen said the King, \"Who is thy sister and who is this knight who\ntormenteth her?\" To the which the damsel made reply: \"I may not tell you\nmy sister's name, for she is very proud and haughty, and is very much\nashamed that she should be held in duress by that knight against her\nwill. But as for the knight who tormenteth her, I may tell you that he\nis hight the Red Knight of the Red Lands.\"\n\nThen King Arthur said: \"I know not any such knight as that. Is there any\none of you hereabouts who knoweth him?\" And Sir Gawaine said: \"Lord, I\nknow him very well, for I met him one time in battle and it was such\nhard ado for me to hold mine own against him that even to this day I\nknow not rightly whether he was better than I or whether I was better\nthan he.\" Then King Arthur said: \"Fair damsel, that must be a very\nstrong and powerful knight, since Sir Gawaine speaketh of him in this\nwise. But touching this affair of thy sister, know you not that it is\nnot likely that any knight of renown will be found to champion a lady of\nwhose name or degree he knoweth naught? If thou wilt tell the name of\nthy sister and wilt declare her degree I doubt not there are many good\nworthy knights of this court any one of whom would gladly champion her\ncause.\"\n\nSo spake the King, but the damsel only shook her head and said, \"Lord, I\nmay not tell my sister's name, for I am forbidden to do so.\"\n\nThen the King said: \"That is a pity for I fear me thou wilt not easily\nfind thee a champion in that case.\" And he said, \"Damsel, what is thy\nname?\" And she said, \"Sir, it is Lynette.\" The King said, \"That is a\nfair name and thou art very fair of face.\"\n\nThen the King looked about him and he said: \"Is there any knight in this\ncourt who will undertake this adventure in behalf of that fair lady,\neven though she will not declare her name and degree? If such there be,\nhe hath my free will and consent for to do so.\"\n\nSo spake the King, but no one immediately answered, for no one cared to\ntake up such a quarrel against so strong a knight, not knowing for whom\nit was that that quarrel was to be taken up.\n\nNow he whom all called Beaumains was at that time sitting at his side\ntable a little distance away, and he heard all that passed. Likewise he\nobserved how that no one arose to assume that adventure and at that he\nwas very indignant. For he said to himself: \"This damsel is very fair,\nand the case of her sister is a very hard case, and I wonder that no\ngood and well-approved knight will take that adventure upon him.\"\n\nBut still no one appeared to assume that quarrel of the unknown lady and\nso, at last, Beaumains himself arose from where he sat, and came forward\nbefore them all to where the King was and at that time the damsel was\nstill kneeling before the King.\n\n[Sidenote: _Gareth asketh his second boon._]\n\nThen the King beholding Beaumains standing there said, \"Beaumains, what\nis it thou wouldst have?\" and Beaumains said: \"Lord, I have now dwelt in\nthis court for a year from the time that I first came hither. That time\nwhen I first stood before thee I besought two boons of thee and one of\nthem thou didst grant me and the other thou didst promise to grant me.\nAccording to that first boon, I had since that time had lodging beneath\nthy roof and food and drink from thy table, as much as ever I desired.\nBut now hath come the time when I would fain ask that other boon of\nthee.\"\n\nThen King Arthur wondered a very great deal, and he said, \"Speak,\nBeaumains, and ask what thou wilt and the boon is thine.\"\n\n\"Lord,\" said Beaumains, \"this is the boon I would ask. I beseech thee\nthat thou wilt suffer me to assume this adventure upon behalf of that\nlady who will not tell her name.\"\n\nNow when they of the court who sat near to the King heard what boon it\nwas that the kitchen knave, Beaumains, besought of the King, a great\ndeal of laughter arose upon all sides, for it seemed to all to be a very\ngood jest that Beaumains should assume such an undertaking as that,\nwhich no knight of the court chose to undertake. Only King Arthur did\nnot laugh. Otherwise he spake with great dignity saying: \"Beaumains,\nmethinks thou knowest not what boon it is thou hast asked. Ne'theless,\nbe the peril thine. For since thou hast asked that boon, and since I\nhave passed my promise, I cannot refrain from granting that which thou\nhast besought of me.\"\n\nThen Sir Kay came forward and he spake to the damsel, saying, \"Fair\ndamsel, know you who this fellow is who asketh to be appointed champion\nfor to defend your lady sister?\" and Lynette said, \"Nay, I know not; but\nI pray you tell me who he is.\"\n\n\"I will do so,\" quoth Sir Kay. \"Wit you that this fellow is a kitchen\nknave who came hither a year ago and besought as a royal boon from the\nKing that he should have meat and drink and lodging. Since then he hath\nbeen well fed every day at a table I have set aside for him. So he hath\ngrown fat and proud and high of spirit and thinketh himself haply to be\na champion worthy to undertake such an adventure as that which he hath\nbesought leave to assume.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The damsel Lynette is angry._]\n\nSo said Sir Kay, and when the damsel Lynette heard his words her face\nflamed all as red as fire and she turned to King Arthur and said: \"My\nLord King, what shame and indignity is this that you would put upon me\nand my sister? I came hither beseeching you for a champion to defend my\nsister against her oppressor and instead of a champion you give me a\nkitchen knave for that service.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" quoth King Arthur very calmly, \"this Beaumains hath besought a\nboon of me and I have promised him that favor. Accordingly, I must needs\nfulfil my promise to him. But this I tell thee, that I believe him to be\nvery different from what he appeareth to be; and I tell thee that if he\nfaileth in this adventure which he hath assumed, then will I give thee\nanother champion that shall haply be more to thy liking than he.\"\n\nBut Lynette was very exceedingly wroth and she would not be appeased by\nthe King's words; yet she dared say no word of her indignation to the\nKing's Majesty. Accordingly she turned and went away from that place\nvery haughtily, looking neither to the one side nor to the other, but\ngazing straight before her as she went out from that hall.\n\nThen after she was gone Sir Gawaine came and stood before the King and\nsaid: \"Messire and Lord, I have faith that greater things shall come of\nthis adventure than any one hereabouts supposeth it possible to happen.\nFor Beaumains is no such kitchen knave as Sir Kay proclaimeth him to be,\nbut something very different from that, as Sir Kay himself shall mayhap\ndiscover some day. For a year this Beaumains hath dwelt nigh me and I\nhave seen him do much that ye know not of. Now I pray you, Lord, to\nsuffer me to purvey him with armor fit for this undertaking and I\nbelieve he will some time bring honor both to you and to me--to you\nbecause you granted him this boon, to me because I provided him with\narmor.\" Then King Arthur said to Sir Gawaine, \"Messire, let it be as you\nsay.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine armeth Beaumains._]\n\nSo Sir Gawaine took Beaumains away with him to his own lodging-place\nand here he provided the youth with armor. And he provided him with a\nshield and a sword and a good stout spear. And he provided him with a\nfine horse, such as a knight who was to go errant might well care to\nride upon. Then when Beaumains was provided in all this way, Sir Gawaine\nwished him God-speed and Beaumains took horse and departed after the\nmaiden Lynette. And Axatalese the dwarf rode with Beaumains upon a gray\nmule, as his esquire.\n\nNow by the time all this had been accomplished--to wit, the arming and\nhorsing of Beaumains--Lynette had gone so far upon her way that\nBeaumains and Axatalese were compelled to ride for two leagues and more\nat a very fast pace ere they could overtake her.\n\n[Sidenote: _Lynette scorneth Beaumains._]\n\nAnd when they did overtake her she was more angry than ever to behold\nthat misshapen dwarf accompanying the kitchen knave who was her\nappointed champion. Wherefore when Beaumains had come nigh to her, she\ncried out, \"Sirrah, art thou Beaumains, the kitchen knave?\" And Gareth\nsaid, \"Aye, I am he whom they call Beaumains.\" Then she cried out upon\nhim, \"Return thee whence thou hast come for I will have none of thee!\"\n\nTo this angry address Beaumains replied, speaking very mildly and with\ngreat dignity: \"Lady, the King hath appointed me to ride with you upon\nthis adventure, wherefore, with you, I must now do as I have been\ncommanded. For having embarked in this affair, I must needs give my\nservice to you, even if you should order me to do otherwise.\" \"Well,\"\nquoth she, \"if you will not do as I bid you, then I tell you this; that\nI will straightway take a path that will lead you into such dangers as\nyou have no thought of, and from which you will be not at all likely to\nescape with your life.\"\n\nTo this Beaumains replied, speaking still very calmly and with great\ncourtesy: \"Lady, that shall be altogether as you ordain. And I venture\nto say to you that no matter into what dangers you may bring me, still I\nhave great hope that I shall bring you out thence with safety and so be\nof service to you and your lady sister. Wherefore, whithersoever you\nlead, thither will I follow you.\"\n\nThen Lynette was still more angry that Beaumains should be so calm and\ncourteous to her who was so angry and uncourteous to him, wherefore she\nhardened her heart toward him and said: \"Sirrah, since I cannot rid me\nof you, I bid you ride upon the other side of the way, for methinks you\nsmell very strongly of the kitchen in which you have dwelt.\"\n\nTo these words Beaumains bowed his head with great dignity and said,\n\"Lady, it shall be as you command.\" And therewith he drew rein to the\nother side of the highway to that upon which she rode. Then Lynette\nlaughed, and she said: \"Ride a little farther behind me, for still\nmethinks I smell the savor of the kitchen.\" And Beaumains did as she\ncommanded and withdrew him still farther away from her.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Kay followeth Beaumains._]\n\nNow some while after Beaumains had ridden after Lynette as aforetold,\nSir Kay said to certain of those who were nigh him: \"I am of a mind to\nride after our kitchen knave and to have a fall of him, for it would be\na very good thing to teach him such a lesson as he needs.\" So according\nto that saying, Sir Kay went to his inn and donned his armor. And he\nchose him a good stout spear and he took horse and rode away after\nBeaumains with intent to do as he had said. So he rode at a good pace\nand for a long time and by and by he beheld Lynette and Beaumains and\nthe dwarf where they rode along the highway at some distance before him.\nThen Sir Kay called out in a great voice, saying: \"Stay, Beaumains, turn\nthou thitherward. For I am come to overthrow thee and to take that\ndamsel away from thee.\"\n\nThen Lynette turned her head and beheld Sir Kay where he came, and with\nthat she pointed and said: \"Look, thou kitchen knave, yonder cometh a\nright knight in pursuit of thee. Now haply thou hadst best flee away ere\nharm befall thee.\"\n\nBut to this address Beaumains paid no heed, otherwise he turned about\nhis horse and straightway put himself into array for defence. And as Sir\nKay drew nigh, Beaumains beheld the device upon his shield and knew who\nwas the knight who came thitherward and that it was Sir Kay who followed\nafter him and called upon him to stay.\n\nThen Beaumains remembered him of all the many affronts that Sir Kay had\nput upon him for all that year past and with that his anger grew very\nhot within him. And he said to himself: \"This is well met; for now my\ntime hath come. For either this is the day of satisfaction for me or\nelse it is the day in which I shall lay my dead body down beside the\nhighroad.\"\n\nMeantime Sir Kay had come nigh, and finding that Beaumains had prepared\nhimself, he also made himself straightway ready for battle. Then Lynette\ndrew her palfrey to one side of the way and to a place whence she might\nbehold all that befell.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Kay doeth battle with Beaumains._]\n\nSo when Beaumains and Sir Kay were in all ways prepared, each gave shout\nand drave forward very violently to the assault. And they met in the\nmidst of that course and in that encounter the spear of Sir Kay held and\nthe spear of Beaumains, because it was not very well directed, was\nbroken into several pieces, so that he would have fallen only for the\naddress of horsemanship that Sir Gawaine had taught him in the year that\nhad passed.\n\nBut when Lynette beheld how that the spear of Beaumains was broken in\nthat wise, and how that he was nearly cast out of the saddle in that\nencounter, she laughed very high and shrill. And she cried out in a loud\nvoice: \"Hah! thou kitchen knave, if thou showest not better address than\nthat, thou wilt not be likely to succeed in this adventure that thou\nhast undertaken.\"\n\nNow Beaumains heard the high laughter of Lynette and the words that she\ncalled out to him and with that he was more angry than ever. So\ntherewith he ground his teeth together, and, casting aside the stump of\nhis spear which he still held in his hand, he drew his sword and made at\nSir Kay with all his might and main. And he put aside Sir Kay's defence\nwith great violence, and having done so he rose up in his stirrups and\nlashed a blow at Sir Kay that fell upon his helm like to a bolt of\nlightning. For in that one blow Beaumains lashed forth all his rage and\nthe indignation of a whole year of the scorn of Sir Kay. And he launched\nforth all the anger that he felt against the damsel Lynette who had also\nscorned him.\n\n[Sidenote: _Beaumains smiteth down Sir Kay._]\n\nSo fierce and terrible was that blow he struck that I misdoubt that any\nknight in all the world could have stood against it, far less could Sir\nKay stand against it. For straightway upon receiving that stroke the\nsenses of Sir Kay scattered all abroad and darkness fell roaring upon\nhis sight and he fell down from off his horse and lay there upon the\nground as though he was dead. Then Beaumains stood above him smiling\nvery grimly. And he said, \"Well, Sir Kay, how like you that blow from\nthe hands of the kitchen knave?\" but Sir Kay answered him not one word\nas you may suppose.\n\nTherewith, having so spoken, Beaumains dismounted from his horse and he\ncalled the dwarf Axatalese to him and he said: \"Axatalese, dismount from\nthy mule and tie it to yonder bush and take thou the horse of this\nknight and mount upon it instead.\" And Axatalese did as his master\ncommanded. And Beaumains said to Sir Kay when he still lay in his swoon,\n\"Sir Knight, I will borrow of you your spear, since I now have none of\nmine own,\" and therewith he took the spear of Sir Kay into his hand. And\nhe took the shield of Sir Kay and hung it upon the pommel of the saddle\nof the horse of Sir Kay that he had given to Axatalese, and after that\nhe mounted his own horse and rode away from that place, leaving Sir Kay\nlying where he was in the middle of the way.\n\nAnd Lynette also rode away and ever Beaumains followed her in silence.\nSo they rode for a while and then at last and by and by the damsel fell\nalaughing in great measure. And she turned her to Beaumains, and said,\n\"Sirrah, thou kitchen knave, dost thou take pride to thyself?\" and\nBeaumains said, \"Nay, Lady.\" She said: \"See that thou takest no pride,\nfor thou didst but overcome that knight by the force of thy youth and\nstrength, whilst he broke thy spear and wellnigh cast thee out of thy\nsaddle because of his greater skill.\"\n\nThen Beaumains bowed his head and said, \"Lady, that may very well be.\"\nAt that Lynette laughed again, and she said, \"Sirrah, thou art\nforgetting thyself and thou ridest too near to me. Now I bid thee ride\nfarther away so that I may not smell the savor of the kitchen,\" and\nBeaumains said, \"As you command, so it shall be,\" and therewith he drew\nrein to a little greater distance.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd here it may be told of Sir Kay that some while after Beaumains had\ngone he bestirred himself and arose and looked about him, and for some\nwhile he knew not what had befallen him nor where he was. Then anon he\nremembered and he wist that he had suffered great shame and humiliation\nat the hands of Beaumains the kitchen knave. And he saw that in that\nencounter he had lost his shield and his spear and his horse and that\nnaught was left for him to ride upon saving only that poor gray mule\nupon which the dwarf of Beaumains had been riding.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Kay returneth to court, ashamed._]\n\nThen Sir Kay wist not what to do, but there was naught else left for him\nbut to mount that mule and ride back again whence he had come. So he did\nand when he reached the King's court there was such laughing and jesting\nconcerning his adventure that he scarce dared to lift his voice in\nspeech or to raise his face in the court for a week from that time. But\nSir Gawaine made no speech nor jest of the mishap that Sir Kay had\nsuffered, only he smiled very grimly and said, \"Sir, you would have done\nwell to have hearkened to what I said to you,\" and Sir Kay, though at\nmost times he had bitter speech enough and to spare, had naught whatever\nto say to Sir Gawaine in reply.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd now we turn again to Beaumains and Lynette as they rode onward upon\ntheir way as aforetold.\n\n[Sidenote: _They behold a white knight._]\n\nFor after that last speech of Lynette's, they went onward in silence,\nand ever Lynette looked this way and that as though she wist not that\nany such man as Beaumains was within the space of a league of that\nplace. So travelling they came, toward the sloping of the afternoon, to\na place nigh to the edge of a woodland where was a smooth and level\nspace of grass surrounded on all sides but one by the trees of the\nforest. Here they beheld a knight who was just come out of the forest,\nand he was clad all in white armor and he rode upon a white horse. And\nthe sun was shining so far aslant at that time that the light thereof\nwas very red, like to pure gold. And the beams of the sun fell upon the\nskirts of the forest so that all the thick foliage of the woodland was\nentirely bathed in that golden light. And the same light flashed upon\nthe polished armor of the knight and shone here and there very\ngloriously as though several stars of singular radiance had fallen from\nheaven and had catched upon that lonely knight-rider, who drew rein at\ntheir approach and so sat watching their coming.\n\nThen Lynette turned to Beaumains and she said: \"Sir kitchen knave, look\nyou! yonder is a right knight with whom you may hardly hope to have ado.\nNow turn you about and get you gone while there is yet time, otherwise\nyou may suffer harm at his hands.\"\n\nTo this Beaumains made no reply; otherwise, he rode forward very calmly\nand when he had come pretty nigh he bespoke that single knight in a loud\nclear voice, saying, \"Sir Knight, I pray you do me battle.\"\n\nAt this address that knight aforesaid was very much astonished, and he\nsaid: \"Sir, what offence have I done to you that you should claim battle\nof me in so curt a fashion? Gladly will I give you your will, but wit\nyou not that all courtesy is due from one knight to another upon such an\noccasion?\"\n\nTo this Beaumains made no reply, but turning his horse about he rode to\na little distance and there made him ready for the encounter that was\nabout to befall. For at that time his heart was so full of anger at the\nscorn of Lynette that he could not trust himself with speech, and indeed\nI verily believe that he knew not very well where he was or what he did.\n\nMeantime the White Knight had also put himself into array for battle and\nwhen all was prepared they immediately launched the one against the\nother with such violence that the ground trembled and shook beneath\ntheir charge.\n\nSo they met with great crashing and uproar in the midst of the course\nand in that meeting the spear of Beaumains was broken into a great many\npieces and he himself was cast out of his saddle and down to the ground\nwith such violence that he was for a little while altogether stunned by\nthe force of his fall.\n\nThen Lynette laughed so high and so shrill that Beaumains heard her even\nin the midst of his swoon, and with that his spirit came back to him\nagain and straightway he leaped up to his feet and drew his sword. And\nhe cried out to the White Knight: \"Sir Knight, come down from off thy\nhorse and do battle with me afoot, for never will I be satisfied with\nthis mischance that I have suffered.\"\n\nThen the White Knight said: \"Messire, how is this? I have no such cause\nof battle with you as that.\" But all the more Beaumains cried out with\ngreat vehemence, \"Descend, Sir Knight, descend and fight me afoot.\"\n\n\"Well,\" quoth the White Knight, \"since you will have it so, so it shall\nbe.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Beaumains doeth battle with the White Knight._]\n\nThereupon he voided his horse and drew his sword and straightway setting\nhis shield before him, he came forward to the assault of Beaumains. Then\nimmediately they met together, each lashing very fiercely at the other,\nand so that battle began. And so it continued, each foining and tracing\nthis way and that like two wild bulls at battle, but ever lashing stroke\nupon stroke at one another. Soon the armor of each was stained in places\nwith red, for each had suffered some wound or hurt at this place or at\nthat. Yet ever Beaumains fought with might and main, for he was so\nstrengthened by his passion of rage that rather would he have died than\nyield in that battle.\n\nSo they fought with astounding fierceness for a considerable while, and\nthen, at last, the White Knight called out, \"Sir, I pray you stay this\nbattle for a little,\" and with that Beaumains ceased his lashing and\nstood leaning upon his sword, panting for breath.\n\nAnd the White Champion also leaned upon his sword and panted, and anon\nhe said, \"Sir, I pray you tell me your name. For I make my vow to you\nthat never have I met any knight who hath fought a greater battle than\nyou have fought this day--and yet I may tell you that I have fought with\na great many of the very best knights of this realm.\"\n\n\"Messire,\" quoth Beaumains, \"I may not declare my name at this present,\nfor there are several good reasons why I will not do so. But though I\nmay not do as you demand of me, nevertheless I beseech you that you will\nextend that favor unto me and will declare to me your name and your\ndegree.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the White Knight, \"never yet have I refused that courtesy\nto any one who hath asked it of me. Wit ye then that I am called Sir\nLauncelot of the Lake.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Beaumains knoweth Sir Launcelot._]\n\nNow when Beaumains heard this that the White Knight said and when he\nwist that it was none other than Sir Launcelot against whom he had been\nfighting for that while, he was filled with great wonder and\nastonishment and a sort of fear. So straightway he flung aside his sword\nand he kneeled down before Sir Launcelot and set his palms together. And\nhe said: \"Messire, what have I done, to do battle against you? Rather\nwould I have done battle against mine own brother than against you. Know\nyou that you are the man of all others whom I most revere and admire.\nNow I pray you, Messire, if I have done well in your sight in this\nbattle which I have fought, that you grant me a boon that I have to ask\nof you and of no other man.\"\n\nQuoth Sir Launcelot: \"What boon is it thou wouldst have? Ask it and if\nit is meet that I grant it to thee, then assuredly it shall be thine. As\nfor that battle which thou hast done, let me tell thee of a truth that I\nbelieve that I have never before met a stronger or a more worthy\nchampion than thou art. So now I prithee ask thy boon that I may have\nthe pleasure of granting it to thee.\"\n\nThen Beaumains said: \"Sir, it is this. Wit you that I am not yet made\nknight, but am no more than a bachelor at arms. So if you think that I\nam not unworthy of that honor, I pray you make me a knight at this\npresent and with your own hand.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"that may not be until I know thy name and of\nwhat degree and worthiness thou art. For it is not allowed for a knight\nto make a knight of another man until first he is well assured of that\nother's degree and estate, no matter what deed of arms that other may\nhave done. But if thou wilt tell me thy name and thy degree, then I\ndoubt not that I shall be rejoiced to make a knight of thee.\"\n\nUnto this Beaumains said, \"Sir, I will tell you my name and degree if so\nbe I may whisper it in your ear.\" And Sir Launcelot said, \"Tell it to me\nas you list and in such manner as may be pleasing to you.\" So Beaumains\nset his lips to Sir Launcelot's ear and he told him his name and his\ndegree. And he told Sir Launcelot many things that had befallen him of\nlate, and Sir Launcelot was astonished beyond measure at all that he\nheard. Then when Beaumains had told all these several things, Sir\nLauncelot said: \"Messire, I wonder no more that you should have done so\ngreat battle as you did against me, seeing what blood you have in your\nveins and of what royal race you are sprung. Gladly will I make you\nknight, for I believe in time you will surpass even your own brothers in\nglory of knighthood, wherefore I shall have great credit in having made\nyou a knight.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot maketh Sir Gareth a knight._]\n\nTherewith Sir Launcelot took his sword in his hand, and Beaumains\nkneeled. And Sir Launcelot laid the blade thereof upon the shoulder of\nBeaumains and so made him knight by accolade. And he said, \"Rise, Sir\nGareth!\" and Sir Gareth arose and stood upon his feet, and his heart was\nso expanded with joy that it appeared to him that he had the strength of\nten men rather than one man in his single body.\n\nNow the damsel Lynette had been observing all this from afar, and from\nthat distance she could hear naught of what one champion said to the\nother, and she beheld what they did with very great wonderment and\nperplexity. Anon came Sir Launcelot and Sir Gareth to where she was, and\nwhen they were come near she said to Sir Launcelot, \"Know you, Messire,\nwho is this with whom you walk?\" And Sir Launcelot said, \"Yea, damsel,\nmethinks I should know him.\" Lynette said: \"I believe that you do not\nknow him, for I am well assured that he is a kitchen knave of King\nArthur's court. He hath followed me hither against my will, clad in\narmor which I believe he hath no entitlement to wear, and I cannot drive\nhim from me.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot laughed and he said: \"Damsel, you know not what you\nsay. Peace! Be still, or else you will bring shame upon yourself.\"\n\nThen Lynette regarded Sir Launcelot for a while very seriously and anon\nshe said, \"Messire, I pray you tell me who you are who take me thus to\ntask.\" And at that Sir Launcelot laughed again and said: \"Damsel, I will\nnot tell you my name, but mayhap if you ask my name of this worthy\ngentleman who is with you, he will tell you what it is.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot leaveth Sir Gareth._]\n\nThen Sir Launcelot turned him to Sir Gareth and he said: \"Friend, here I\nmust leave you, for I have business that taketh me in another direction.\nSo God save you and fare you well until we shall meet again. And if you\nwill keep upon yonder path and follow it, it will bring you by and by to\na fair priory of the forest, and there you and your damsel may have\nlodging for the night.\"\n\nThereupon Sir Launcelot bowed in courtesy both to Sir Gareth and to the\ndamsel Lynette and so took his departure, wending his way whither he was\nminded to go and so in a little was lost to sight.\n\nThen Lynette and Sir Gareth and the dwarf also went their way, taking\nthat path that led to the priory of which Sir Launcelot had spoken; and\nthere they found lodgment for the night--the damsel at one place, Sir\nGareth at another.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd now if you would hear more concerning Sir Gareth and Lynette and of\nwhat befell them, I pray you read further, for these things shall there\nbe duly set forth for your entertainment.\n\n[Illustration: Sir Gareth doeth Battle with the Knight of the River\nFord.]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Third\n\n_How Sir Gareth and Lynette travelled farther upon their way; how Sir\nGareth won the pass of the river against two strong knights, and how he\novercame the Black Knight of the Black Lands. Also how he saved a good\nworthy knight from six thieves who held him in duress._\n\n\nNow when the next morning had come, all bright and dewy and very clear\nlike to crystal, Lynette arose and departed from that forest priory\nwhere she had lodged over-night, giving no news to Sir Gareth of her\ngoing. And at that time the birds were singing everywhere with might and\nmain. Everywhere the May was abloom, the apple orchards were fragrant\nwith blossoms, and field and meadow-land were spread thick with a\nvariegated carpet of pretty wild flowers of divers colors, very fair to\nsee.\n\nSo Lynette rode alone, all through the dewy morn, amid these fair\nmeadow-lands and orchards belonging to the priory, making her way toward\nthe dark and shady belt of forest that surrounded those smooth and\nverdant fields upon all sides. And ever she gazed behind her very slyly,\nbut beheld no one immediately following after her.\n\nFor it was some while ere Sir Gareth arose from his couch to find the\ndamsel gone. And when he did arise he was vexed beyond measure that she\nhad departed. So he donned his armor in all haste and as soon as might\nbe he followed hard after her, galloping his horse very violently\nthrough those fair and blooming meadows aforesaid, with the dwarf\nAxatalese following fast after him upon Sir Kay's war-horse.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth followeth Lynette again._]\n\nSo Sir Gareth made all speed, and by and by he perceived the damsel\nwhere she was, and at that time she was just entering into the forest\nshades. So he drove forward still more rapidly and anon he came up with\nher and thereupon he saluted and said, \"Save you, Lady!\" Upon that\nsalutation Lynette looked about, as though in surprise, and said, \"Hah,\nthou kitchen knave, art thou there?\" And Sir Gareth said, \"Yea, Lady.\"\nAnd Lynette said: \"Methought thou hadst enough of adventure yestereve\nwhen that same White Knight rolled thee down into the dust and beat thee\nin a fair fight afterward.\" Sir Gareth said, \"Lady, thou speakest bitter\nwords to me!\" and Lynette laughed, and she said: \"Well, Sir Knave, it\nseems that I cannot speak words that are so bitter as to prevent thee\nfrom following after me for I see that I am not to be free from thee in\nspite of my will to that end.\" And then she said: \"Now I bid thee to\nride a little farther away from me, for even yet thou savorest very\nstrongly of the kitchen, and the savor thereof spoileth the fair savor\nof the morning.\"\n\nSo spake Lynette, and thereupon Sir Gareth drew rein a little farther,\nand so followed after her some distance away as he had done the day\nbefore.\n\n[Sidenote: _Lynette telleth Sir Gareth of the robber knights._]\n\nAfter that they went a considerable ways in silence, and then by and by\nLynette turned her head toward Sir Gareth and spake, saying: \"Sirrah,\nknowest thou whither this path upon which we travel will lead us?\" And\nSir Gareth said, \"Nay, Lady, I know not.\" \"Alas for thee,\" quoth\nLynette, \"for I am to tell thee that this path leadeth toward a certain\nford of a river, which same ford is guarded by two strong and powerful\nknights who are brothers. Of these two knights I heard yesternight at\nthe priory that they are very savage robbers, and that, of those who\nwould pass the ford of the river, some they slay and others they rob or\nelse make captive for the sake of ransom. Now I am making my way toward\nthat place where are these two knights in the belief that they may rid\nme of thee. So be thou advised whilst there is yet time; withdraw thee\nfrom this adventure and return whither thou hast come, or else, mayhap,\na very great deal of harm may befall thee.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" quoth Sir Gareth, \"were there twenty knights instead of two at\nthat ford and were each of those twenty ten times as strong as either of\nthe two are likely to be, yet would I follow after thee to the end of\nthis adventure. Mayhap it may be my good fortune to rid the world of\nthese two evil knights.\"\n\nThen Lynette lifted up her eyes toward Heaven. \"Alas,\" quoth she, \"I see\nthat never will I be rid of this kitchen knave until all the pride is\nbeaten out of his body.\" And after that they rode their way without\nsaying anything more at that time.\n\nAnon, and when the sun had risen pretty high toward the middle of the\nmorning, they came out of the forest and into a fair open plain of\nconsiderable extent. Here Sir Gareth perceived that there was a smooth\nwide river that flowed down through the midst of the plain. And he\nperceived that the road ran toward the river and crossed it by a\nshallow gravelly ford. And he perceived that upon the other side of the\nriver was a tall, grim, and very forbidding castle that stood on high\nand overlooked the ford, and so he wist that this must be the ford\nguarded by those two knights of whom Lynette had spoken.\n\nSo as they drew nearer to the ford, Sir Gareth beheld a pillar of stone\nbeside the way, and he saw that a great bugle horn of brass was chained\nfast to this pillar. Then Lynette pointed to the bugle horn and she\nsaid: \"Sir Kitchen Knave, seest thou yon bugle horn? Thou had best not\nblow upon that horn for if thou dost thou will arouse those two knights\nwho guard this ford and they will come forth from the castle and it will\ncertes fare very ill with thee.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth challengeth the robber knights._]\n\nThen Sir Gareth said, \"Say you so, Lady?\" Therewith he went straight to\nwhere the horn hung by its chain, and he seized it in both hands and\nblew upon it so violently that it was as though the brazen horn would be\nburst with his blowing. For the sound thereof flew far and wide, and\ncame echoing back from the distant walls of the castle as though the\ntrump of doom had been sounded in those parts.\n\nTherewith, and after a little while, the portcullis of the castle was\nuplifted and the drawbridge let fall and there issued forth two knights\nvery large and stout of frame and very forbidding of appearance. These\ntwo knights rode down toward the ford and when they had come nigh to it\nhe who was the bigger of the two drave down to the edge of the water and\ncalled across to Sir Gareth, \"Who are you who dareth to blow so loudly\nupon our bugle horn?\" And to him Sir Gareth replied: \"Sir, I blew upon\nthat horn to let you know that I was here and that I come with intent to\nrid the world of you, if so be God shall be with me in mine endeavor.\"\n\nAt that the knight upon the other bank was so enraged that he cast aside\nhis spear and drew his sword and drave straightway into the waters of\nthe ford, splashing with a noise like to thunder. And Sir Gareth also\ncast aside his spear and drew his sword and drave into the ford with\ngreat violence.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth overthroweth the knight of the ford._]\n\nSo they met in the midst of the river and the knight of the ford lashed\nat Sir Gareth a most terrible and vehement blow, which stroke Sir Gareth\nput aside with great skill so that it harmed him not. Then Sir Gareth\nupon his part lifted himself on high and lashed at the knight so woful\nand terrible a blow that his horse tottered under the stroke and the\nknight himself catched at the pommel of his saddle to save himself from\nfalling. Then Sir Gareth lashed at him another stroke and with that the\nknight swooned away into darkness and fell out of his saddle and into\nthe water. And the river where he fell was very deep so that when he\nsank beneath the water he did not rise again, although Sir Gareth waited\nsome while for him to do so.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth overthroweth the second knight._]\n\nThen Sir Gareth, perceiving how that he had finished this enemy, drave\nhis horse very violently across the ford, and to the farther bank, and\nthe knight who was there upon that side of the river drave down against\nSir Gareth with his spear in rest with intent to thrust him through the\nbody. But Sir Gareth was aware of his coming and so when the knight of\nthe river was immediately upon him, he put aside the point of the spear\nwith his shield with great skill and address. Then he rode up the length\nof the spear and when he had come nigh enough he rose up in his stirrup\nand lashed at the knight of the river so dreadful deadly a blow that nor\nshield nor helm could withstand that stroke. For the sword of Sir Gareth\nclave through the shield of the knight, and it clave through the helm\nand deep into his brain-pan. And with that the knight of the river fell\nheadlong from his saddle and lay upon the ground without life or motion\nwherewith to rise again. Then Sir Gareth leaped very nimbly out of his\nsaddle and ran to him to finish the work that he had begun. And Sir\nGareth plucked away the helm of the knight and looked into his face and\ntherewith beheld that his work was very well done, for already that\nfallen knight was in the act of yielding up the ghost.\n\nThen Sir Gareth wiped his sword and drave it back again into its sheath;\nand he remounted his horse and rode very quietly back to where the\ndamsel waited for him upon the farther bank. And the damsel looked at\nSir Gareth very strangely but Sir Gareth regarded her not at all.\n\nSo Sir Gareth brought Lynette safely across the ford and afterward they\nrode on their way as they had aforetime done--the damsel in the lead and\nSir Gareth and Axatalese following after at a distance.\n\n[Sidenote: _Lynette mocketh at Sir Gareth._]\n\nSo after they had ridden a long while the damsel turned her about in the\nsaddle and looked at Sir Gareth and she said, \"Hah, Beaumains, dost thou\ntake pride in what thou hast done?\" And Sir Gareth said, \"Nay, Lady; God\nforbid that I should take pride in any such thing as that.\" Quoth\nLynette: \"I am glad that thou dost not take pride in it; for I beheld\nthy battle from afar and I saw how fortune favored thee. For the first\nof those two knights, his horse stumbled in the river and so he fell\ninto the water and was drowned; and thou didst strike the second knight\nwith thy sword ere he was well prepared for his defence and so thou wert\nable to slay him.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" quoth Sir Gareth very calmly, \"that which thou sayest doth not\nin anywise change the circumstances of what I did. For now my work is\ndone and so I leave it to God His mercy to judge whether I did that\nthing well or whether I did it ill.\" \"Hah,\" said Lynette, \"meseemeth\nyou speak very saucily for a kitchen knave.\" And Sir Gareth said, still\nspeaking very calmly, \"Think you so, Lady?\" And Lynette said, \"Yea,\" and\nshe said, \"I see that thou still ever forgettest my commands, for thou\nart riding so nigh to me that methinks I smell the kitchen. Now I\nprythee draw a little farther away.\" And Sir Gareth said, \"Damsel, it\nshall be as you command.\" And therewith he drew rein so as to ride at a\nlittle greater distance, and Lynette laughed to see him do so.\n\nNow some little while about the prime of the day they came to a certain\ngrassy place of considerable extent, and at that place was a black\nhawthorn bush, very aged and gnarled and full of thorns that stood alone\nbeside the highroad, and as they drew nigh to it they perceived that\nthere was hung upon the thorn bush a great black shield bearing the\ndevice of the red gryphon, and they saw that a great black spear,\nbearing a black pennon with the device of a red gryphon leaned beside\nthe shield. And they beheld that near by the bush was a noble black\nhorse with trappings and housings all of black, and the horse cropped\nthe grass that grew at that place.\n\n[Sidenote: _They behold the black knight at his meal._]\n\nAll this they beheld, and as they came still nearer they perceived that\nupon the other side of the hawthorn bush there was a knight clad all in\nblack armor, and they saw that the knight sat beside a great flat stone\nand ate his midday meal that lay spread out upon the stone. And the\nknight was unaware of their coming but ever ate with great appetite of\nthe food that was spread before him.\n\nThen Lynette drew rein while they were yet at some distance and she\nlaughed and pointed toward the hawthorn bush, behind which sat the\nknight, and she said: \"Sir Kitchen Knave, look you yonder and behold\nthat knight. Seest thou the device upon his shield? I know that device\nvery well and so I may tell thee that that knight is hight Sir Perard\nand that he is brother of Sir Percevant of Hind, and that he is a very\nstrong, worthy, noble knight and one of great renown in deeds of arms.\nThis is a very different sort of knight from those thou didst overcome\nat the ford of the river, wherefore be thou advised by me and turn thee\nabout and get thee gone ere yonder knight seest thee, or else harm will\ncertainly befall thee.\"\n\nQuoth Sir Gareth: \"Damsel, having followed you so far and through\nseveral dangers it is not very likely that I shall turn back at this,\neven if there be as much peril in it as you say.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Lynette, \"then if ill befall thee thou art to blame\nthyself therefor and not blame me.\" Therewith speaking, she tightened\nthe rein of her palfrey and so rode forward toward that hawthorn bush\naforesaid.\n\nNow when they had come a little more close to that place, the Black\nKnight, Sir Perard, was aware of their coming and looked up and beheld\nthem. Then, seeing that it was an armed knight and a damsel that were\ncoming thitherward, Sir Perard arose very slowly and with great dignity\nand set his helm upon his head, and so he made him ready for whatsoever\nmight befall. Then when he had so prepared himself he came out into the\nroad for to meet them. Then when Sir Gareth and the damsel were come\npretty nigh, Sir Perard bespake Sir Gareth, saying: \"Sir Knight, I pray\nyou of your courtesy for to tell me who you are and whither you go?\"\n\nQuoth Sir Gareth: \"I may not tell you who I am, but ask you this damsel\nand she will tell you.\"\n\nThen Sir Perard was greatly surprised at that reply and he said, \"Is\nthis a jest?\" And he said: \"Damsel, since I am directed to you, I pray\nof you tell to me the name and the degree of this knight.\"\n\nUpon this Lynette fell alaughing in great measure and she said:\n\"Messire, since you ask me that thing, I have to tell you that this\nfellow is a certain kitchen knave, hight Beaumains, who hath followed me\nhither from the court of King Arthur, and I have to tell you further\nthat many times I have bid him begone and leave me, but he will not do\nso, but continually followeth after me.\"\n\n\"Fair damsel,\" quoth the Black Knight, speaking with great dignity, \"you\nare pleased to jest with me, for this is no kitchen knave I trow but a\nvery good worshipful knight of whom you are pleased to say such things.\"\n\nThen Sir Gareth spake very sternly, saying, \"Messire, I will not have\nyou or any man gainsay what this lady sayeth.\" And the Black Knight,\nstill speaking with great dignity, said: \"How may I do otherwise than\ngainsay her, seeing that you wear armor that is indented with the marks\nof battle? For who ever heard of a kitchen knave wearing such armor?\"\n\"Ne'theless,\" quoth Sir Gareth, \"either you must acknowledge what this\nlady sayeth of me, or else you must do battle with me so that I may\ndefend what she sayeth.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said the Black Knight, \"in that case I will do battle with you,\nfor I cannot accept the saying of this lady.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth doeth battle with the Black Knight._]\n\nSo therewith Sir Perard took down his shield from off the blackthorn\nbush and he took his spear into his hand and whistled his horse to him.\nAnd he mounted his horse and made him in all ways ready for battle.\nMeanwhile Sir Gareth waited very composedly and with great calmness of\nbearing until the other was in all wise prepared. Then Sir Perard said,\n\"I am ready, Messire.\" And therewith each knight drew rein and withdrew\nto such a distance as was fitting for a course to an assault. Then when\nthis was accomplished, each knight shouted to his steed and each charged\nforward against the other with a terrible speed and violence. So they\nmet in the midst of the course with a crash that might have been heard\nfor two furlongs. In that meeting the spear of each knight was broken\ninto many pieces, even to the hand that held it, and the horse of each\nstaggered back and would haply have fallen had not the knight rider\nbrought him to foot again with shout and prick of spur and with great\naddress of horsemanship. Then each knight voided his horse and each drew\nhis sword and therewith rushed to an assault at arms. And each smote the\nother again and again and yet again, lashing such blows that it sounded\nas though several blacksmiths were smiting amain upon their anvils, and\nfor a while neither knight had any advantage over the other, but each\nfought for that time a well-matched battle. Then of a sudden Lynette\ncried out very shrilly: \"Sir Perard! Sir Perard! Noble, worthy knight!\nWilt thou suffer a kitchen knave to have his will of thee?\"\n\nSo she cried out very loud and shrill and Sir Gareth heard the words she\nuttered. Then a great anger came upon him so that he was uplifted by it,\nas though the strength of several had entered into his body. So\nstraightway he redoubled his battle to twice what it had been before,\ngiving stroke upon stroke, so that the Black Knight was forced to bear\nback before the fierceness and violence of his assault. Then Sir Gareth\nperceived that Sir Perard began to weary a very great deal in that fight\nand to bear his defences full low, and therewith he redoubled his blows\nand smote Sir Perard upon the helm so fiercely that his brains swam like\nwater and his head hung low upon his breast.\n\nThen, perceiving how that Sir Perard fainted, Sir Gareth ran to him and\ncatched him by the helm and dragged him down upon his knees, and he\nrushed off the helm of Sir Perard, and catched him by the hair and\ndragged down his neck so that he might have slain him had he chosen to\ndo so.\n\nThen Sir Perard, perceiving how near death was to him, catched Sir\nGareth about the knees, and cried out on high, \"Messire, spare my life,\nfor so thou hast it at thy mercy.\" Quoth Sir Gareth, \"Sir Knight, I will\nnot spare thy life unless this lady beseech it of me.\"\n\nThen Lynette cried out: \"Fie upon thee, thou saucy varlet! Who art thou\nthat I should ask a favor of thee?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Lynette asketh the life of the Black Knight._]\n\nThen Sir Perard cried out, \"Fair Lady, I beseech thee that thou beg my\nlife at the hands of this knight,\" and thereupon Lynette said: \"Fie upon\nit that it must needs be so. But indeed I cannot suffer so worshipful a\nknight as thou art, Sir Perard, to be slain by the hand of a kitchen\nknave. So, Sirrah Beaumains, I bid thee stay thy hand and spare this\nknight his life.\"\n\nUpon this speech, Sir Gareth released his hold upon Sir Perard and said,\n\"Arise, Sir Knight, for I will spare thy life upon this lady's behest.\"\nAnd therewith Sir Perard arose and stood upon his feet. And Sir Perard\nsaid: \"Sir, thou hast conquered me in fair battle and for that reason I\nhave yielded me to thee. Now, I prythee tell me, hast thou any commands\nthat thou wouldst lay upon me?\" Quoth Sir Gareth: \"Yea, Messire, I have\na command to lay upon you and this is that command: It is that you\nstraightway go to the court of King Arthur and pay your duty unto him.\nAnd you are to say unto King Arthur that Beaumains, the kitchen knave,\nhath sent you unto him. And I pray you give him news of me and tell him\nit fareth well with me.\" And Sir Perard said, \"Messire, it shall be done\naccording to your bidding.\" And Sir Gareth said, \"See that it is so.\"\n\nNow in all these things that Sir Gareth did and said he ever bore\nhimself with such dignity and haughtiness that a knight of ten years'\nstanding would not have acted with more dignity than he. And after he\nhad settled those affairs in that wise, he turned to Lynette and\naddressed himself to her, saying, \"Lady, if so be thou art now ready to\ndepart I am ready to accompany thee,\" and with that the damsel took her\ndeparture and Sir Gareth and Axatalese followed after her. So they left\nthat place of battle and soon after they had gone Sir Perard departed\nupon his way to the court of King Arthur as he had been commanded to do\nby Sir Gareth as aforesaid.\n\nNow after Lynette and Sir Gareth had ridden some while in silence,\nLynette turned her face and looked upon Sir Gareth. And she said, \"Sir\nKitchen Knave, I would I knew who thou really art.\" To the which Sir\nGareth answered very calmly, \"Thou hast declared several times who I am\nand that I am a kitchen knave from King Arthur's court.\" Then Lynette\nlaughed and she said, \"True, I had nigh forgot.\" And she said, \"Ride not\nso near to me for still, I believe, thou savorest of the kitchen.\" And\nthereupon Sir Gareth withdrew to that same distance he had assumed\nbefore.\n\n[Sidenote: _They behold one fleeing from the forest._]\n\nNow somewhile toward the approach of eventide, Sir Gareth and Lynette\nand Axatalese came away from that part of the country and to where the\nforest began again. And it befell that as they approached the forest\nthey beheld of a sudden one who came spurring out of the woodlands\nriding upon a white horse, driving very furiously and at full speed.\nThis rider when he was come nigh suddenly drew rein, and flinging\nhimself from the saddle he ran to Sir Gareth and catched him by the\nstirrup, crying out: \"Sir Knight! Sir Knight! I crave you of your\nworship that you will lend your aid in a case of woful need!\" Then Sir\nGareth beheld that this one who had come to him in this wise was an\nesquire, clad in green and yellow and that he was one of good appearance\nand of quality. And Sir Gareth said: \"Fair Friend, I prythee tell me\nwhat service it is that thou wouldst have of me?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" cried that esquire, \"my master, who is a knight of these marches,\nis beset within the forest yonder by several thieves and I fear they\nwill slay him unless help cometh to him in short order.\" Sir Gareth\nsaid, \"Where is your master?\" And the esquire said, \"Follow me and I\nwill bring you to him.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth driveth to rescue the wounded knight._]\n\nSo the esquire mounted his horse again and drave away with all speed and\nSir Gareth set spurs to his horse and also drave away at speed, and\nLynette and the dwarf followed with speed after Sir Gareth. So anon they\nentered the forest and coursed therethrough for a little ways and then\nSir Gareth perceived where at a short distance there was a knight set\nwith his back against a tree defending himself against six great and\nbrawny villains clad in full armor. And Sir Gareth beheld that there\nwere three other villains who lay dead upon the ground, but that the\nknight was in a sorry case, bleeding from several wounds and very weary\nwith his battle. Thereupon, beholding this, Sir Gareth drew his sword\nand cried out in a very loud voice: \"Have at ye, villains! Have at ye!\"\nand therewith drave into the midst of that contest. And the thieves were\nastonished at the violence of his coming so that they knew not what to\ndo, for Sir Gareth drave into their midst without let or pause of any\nsort. And ere they recovered from their astonishment, Sir Gareth struck\none of the villains to the earth at a single blow and then he smote down\nanother. And a third would have defended himself, but Sir Gareth rose up\nin his stirrups and he smote him so full and terrible a buffet that he\nclave through his morion and through his head to the very teeth of his\nhead.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth slayeth the thieves._]\n\nThen beholding that dreadful terrible blow that Sir Gareth had struck\ntheir companion, the other three villains were adread for their lives,\nand fled shrieking away into the forest. But Sir Gareth would not let\nthem escape but charged after them with great fury. And the three\nthieves found that they could not escape, and that there was naught else\nfor them to do but to turn and stand at bay and so they did. But Sir\nGareth would not be stayed by this, but he drave straightway into their\nmidst and struck upon this side and upon that, so that maugre their\ndefence all three of those villains were presently stretched, all bathed\nin their blood, upon the ground. Then Sir Gareth rode back again, wiping\nhis sword very calmly ere he put it back into its sheath.\n\nSo anon he came to where was that knight whom he had saved and at that\ntime Lynette and Axatalese and the esquire were lending such aid to the\nwounded man as his case demanded.\n\nBut when that knight beheld Sir Gareth returning from his battle, he\nbroke away from the others and came to Sir Gareth and embraced him about\nthe knee and said, \"Messire, you have certes saved my life.\" And he\nsaid: \"I pray you tell me what great and worshipful knight you are who\ndoeth such wonderful battle as I beheld. Never would I have supposed it\npossible that any single knight could have overthrown six armed men with\nsuch ease as I have beheld you do this day.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Lynette mocketh Sir Gareth._]\n\nNow Lynette was standing by at that time and her eyes were wonderfully\nbright and shining and she looked very strangely upon Sir Gareth. Then\nhearing what that knight said whom Sir Gareth had rescued she burst out\nlaughing very shrilly and piercingly and she cried out, \"Sir Knight, wit\nyou who this is who hath saved your life?\" The knight said, \"Nay,\ndamsel, I know not.\" She said: \"Wit you then that this is a kitchen\nknave of King Arthur's court hight Beaumains, so hight because of the\nwhiteness of his hands. He hath followed me hither against my will, and\nI cannot drive him from me.\"\n\nThen that knight was very much astonished and he said: \"Fair damsel,\ncertes you jest with me, for indeed this is some very noble and\nwell-approved knight of great worship. For no one but such a knight as\nthat could have done such deeds of arms as I beheld this day.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth rebuketh the knight._]\n\nNow at that time Sir Gareth was very weary with the battles he had\nfought during the day, and his body was sore with several wounds that he\nhad suffered, and his spirit was very greatly vexed with the scorn with\nwhich Lynette had ever treated him for all this while, wherefore he had\nbut little patience to deal to any man. So straightway he turned him\ntoward that knight and he spake very sternly to him, saying: \"Messire,\ndo you intend to gainsay that which this lady sayeth to you concerning\nme? Wit you that I will not suffer her word to be put in question in any\nwise. Wherefore, if she is pleased to say that I am a scullion lad, so\nfor her sake you must believe it to be.\"\n\nAt this that knight was more astonished than before, and he wist not\nwhat to think. So anon he said: \"Messire, certes I meant no offence to\nyou, for how should I mean offence to one who hath done me such service\nas you have rendered to me this day?\"\n\n\"Well,\" quoth Sir Gareth, \"in this I am greatly offended that you should\ngainsay that which this lady is pleased to say. Wit you that for this\nwhile I am this lady's champion, and so I will suffer no one to gainsay\nher.\" So said Sir Gareth, and when he had ended that saying, Lynette\nlaughed and laughed again with all her might and main. And she cried\nout, \"Well said, thou kitchen knave!\" unto the which speech Sir Gareth\nmade no reply.\n\nThen that knight said to Sir Gareth and to Lynette: \"Messire, and thou,\nfair damsel, I know not what all this meaneth but haply you know. But I\nsee, Sir Knight, that thou art wounded in several places, and I doubt\nnot that you are both aweary with your travels, wherefore I pray you\nthat you will come with me to my castle which is not a very great\ndistance away from this, and I beseech you there to lodge and to refresh\nyou for this night.\"\n\nTo this Lynette said: \"That which thou sayest pleases me very greatly,\nMessire, for indeed I am aweary and would fain rest me a little. So let\nus go forward to your castle. But this Beaumains must ride not so close\nto us for indeed I cannot abide the odor of the kitchen.\"\n\nSo after that they all departed from that place, and ever Sir Gareth\nrode at a distance as the damsel had commanded him to do.\n\n[Sidenote: _They come to the castle of the knight._]\n\nNow after they had gone a considerable way they came out of the forest\nand into a valley wherein stood the castle of that knight. And it was a\nvery fair and noble castle and the valley was exceedingly fertile with\nmany rich fields and meadows and with several plantations of trees, both\nof fruit trees and otherwise. Through this fruitful valley they came to\nthe castle and they rode into the castle courtyard with a great noise of\nhorses' hoofs upon the cobblestones, and at that coming many of the\nattendants of the castle came running for to take their horses and to\nserve them.\n\nThen Lynette gazed about her and she said to the knight of the castle,\n\"Messire, who are these?\" He said: \"Fair damsel, these are they who\nwould take your horse and the horse of that noble knight your companion,\nand others are they who would wait upon you and upon him to serve you\nboth.\" Then Lynette said: \"Not so, Sir Knight, my horse they may take\nand me they may serve, but it is not meet that a kitchen knave such as\nBeaumains should be waited upon in that wise, wherefore I bid you to\nsuffer him to wait upon himself.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth serveth himself._]\n\nUpon this speech Sir Gareth turned him to the knight of the castle and\nhis face was very calm, albeit his eyes shone like sparks of fire and he\nsaid, speaking very haughtily: \"Messire, whitherward is the stable? I\npray you to tell me so that I may house my good horse and wait upon\nmyself as this lady, whom I have undertaken to serve, hath commanded me\nto do.\" Then the knight of the castle was much troubled and knew not\nwhat to reply; yet anon he said, \"Messire, I know not what to say in\nthis case but an you ask me I must say the stable lieth yonderways.\"\n\nSo spake the knight, and thereupon Sir Gareth turned him without another\nword and rode away, still very calmly, leaving them alone.\n\nSo after that the knight and Lynette entered the castle. But the knight,\nwhen he was alone, called to him the steward of the castle and he said\nto him: \"Go you and search out that noble and worthy knight, for\nassuredly he is some great and famous champion. See you that he is\nserved in all wise that such an one should be served, and spare naught\nto comfort him and put him at his ease, for this day he hath certes\nsaved my life.\" So the steward did as he was bidden and that evening Sir\nGareth was served in all wise befitting for a knight royal such as he\nreally was.\n\nNow when the next day was come, and when it was time for Lynette and Sir\nGareth and Axatalese the dwarf to depart from that place, the knight of\nthe castle came to Sir Gareth where he sat upon his horse. And he laid\nhis hand upon the stirrup of Sir Gareth and he said: \"Messire, I pray\nyou tell me, is there any service that I may do you that you would have\nof me?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth biddeth the knight to do service._]\n\nThen Sir Gareth looked down upon that knight and he said: \"Sir, there is\na service you could render me an you chose to do so, and this is that\nservice: it is that you should go to the court of King Arthur with all\nthe estate that is befitting for one of your degree. And when you have\ncome to the court I would fain have you tell King Arthur that Beaumains,\nthe kitchen knave, hath sent you to him for to pay your court unto him.\nAnd I would have you tell the King and Sir Gawaine how it hath fared\nwith me so far as you are aware of.\" Thus said Sir Gareth, and to him\nthe knight of the castle made reply: \"Sir, it shall be done as you\nordain; for all those things I will do exactly as you commanded me.\"\n\nSo after that they three departed upon their way, the damsel Lynette\nriding ahead and Sir Gareth and the dwarf riding some distance behind.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd now if you would hear what other adventures befell Sir Gareth and\nLynette at this time I pray you to read further, for there these several\nthings are told of in due order.\n\n[Illustration: The Lady Layonnesse.]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Fourth\n\n_How Sir Gareth met Sir Percevant of Hind, and how he came to Castle\nDangerous and had speech with the Lady Layonnesse. Also how the Lady\nLayonnesse accepted him for her champion._\n\n\nSo the damsel Lynette followed by Sir Gareth and the dwarf travelled for\nall that morning and a part of the afternoon without let or stay of any\nsort and without meeting with any adventure whatsoever, and in all that\ntime the damsel said no word to Sir Gareth whether of good or ill, but\never kept her eyes fixed straight before her as though very much\noccupied with thought.\n\n[Sidenote: _They behold a fair pavilion in a valley._]\n\nSo about two hours or three after the prime of the day they came to the\ntop of a very long steep hill, and there beneath them in the valley that\nlay below the hill, Sir Gareth perceived that a considerable company and\none that appeared to be of great estate were foregathered. For at that\nplace there were a number of pavilions of divers colored silk and above\neach pavilion there flew a silken banner bearing the device of the owner\nof that pavilion. And in the midst of all those other pavilions there\nwas one that was manifestly the pavilion of the knight-champion or of\nthe overlord of all the others. For that pavilion was of crimson silk\nembroidered with figures in threads of silver and black, and above the\npavilion there flew a banner of very great size, which same was also of\ncrimson silk embroidered in silver and black with the figure of a\nleopard couchant.\n\nAnd from where he stood upon the heights, Sir Gareth saw that all these\npavilions were spread in a fair level meadow with grass well mown, as\nsmooth as a cloth of green velvet, and all bright with gay and pretty\nflowers. And this meadow and other meadows beyond it stretched away to a\ngreat distance and at the extremity of the distance was a fair tall\ncastle and a goodly town of many towers, all shining very bright in the\nclear transparent daylight.\n\nAll this Sir Gareth beheld very plain, as it were upon the palm of his\nhand, and he beheld how above all that level, fruitful valley the sky\narched like to a roof of crystal--warm and perfectly blue, and filled\nfull of a very great many clouds.\n\nThen Lynette said: \"Hah, Beaumains, see you yonder pavilions and see you\nthat pavilion which is in their midst?\" And Sir Gareth said, \"Yea,\ndamsel, I behold them all.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Lynette telleth Sir Gareth of Sir Percevant._]\n\nQuoth Lynette: \"Wit you that that central pavilion belongeth to Sir\nPercevant of Hind, for well do I know the device embroidered upon his\nbanner. And I have to tell you that Sir Percevant is one of the very\ngreatest of the knights champion of this realm and that he hath fought\nmany battles with some of the chiefest Knights of the Round Table and\nhath come forth with great credit in all those encounters. Now,\nBeaumains, this is a very different sort of knight from any of those\nwith whom you have hitherto had to do, wherefore be you advised that it\nis not meet for a kitchen knave to have to do in such an adventure as\nthis. So turn you about and get you gone or else of a surety some great\nill will befall you in this affair.\"\n\nThen Sir Gareth looked very calmly upon Lynette and he said: \"Lady, it\nmay well be that a man who assumeth to have credit and honor may fail in\nan undertaking of this sort, but when have you ever heard that such a\nman of credit or of honor hath withdrawn him from an adventure because\nthere is great danger in it?\"\n\nThen Lynette laughed and she said: \"Hah, Beaumains, thou speakest with a\nvery high spirit for one who is but a kitchen knave. Now if harm\nbefalleth thee because of this undertaking, blame thyself therefor.\" And\nSir Gareth said: \"So will I do, and rest you well assured, fair damsel,\nthat never shall I blame you for that or for anything else that may\nbefall me.\" And at that Lynette laughed again.\n\nThen Sir Gareth drew rein and turned downhill to where were those\npavilions aforesaid, and so they all three descended from the height\ninto the valley and so came toward that fair meadow wherein the silken\ntents had been erected.\n\nNow as they drew near to the pavilions, they beheld several esquires who\nwere sitting at a bench playing at dice. These, beholding Sir Gareth\ncoming in that wise with the fair damsel and the dwarf, they all arose,\nand he that was chief among them said: \"Sir, what knight are you, and\nwhat is your degree, and why come you hitherward?\" Him answered Sir\nGareth, saying: \"Friend, it matters not who I am saving only that I am\nof sufficient worth. As for my business, it is to have speech with Sir\nPercevant of Hind, the lord of this company.\"\n\nQuoth the esquire: \"Sir, you cannot come past this way nor may you have\nspeech with Sir Percevant of Hind without first making known your name\nand your degree, for otherwise you come upon him at your peril.\" Then\nSir Gareth laughed, and said, \"Say you so?\" and therewith he drave past\nall those esquires and Lynette and the dwarf went with him and no one\ndared to stay him. So they came to the pavilion of Sir Percevant and Sir\nPercevant was within his pavilion at that time.\n\nNow before the pavilion there was a tall painted post set into the\nground, and upon the post there hung a great shield, bearing upon it the\ndevice of a leopard couchant in black and white, and so Sir Gareth\nperceived that this was the shield of Sir Percevant.\n\nThen Sir Gareth drew his sword and he went forward and smote the shield\nsuch a blow that it rang like thunder beneath the stroke that he gave\nit.\n\nTherewith came Sir Percevant of Hind out of his pavilion and his\ncountenance was all aflame with anger and he cried out very fiercely:\n\"Messire, who are you who dare to smite my shield in that wise?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth challengeth Sir Percevant._]\n\nBut Sir Gareth sat his horse very calmly, and he said: \"Messire, I\nstruck your shield for to call you forth so that I might have speech\nwith you. As for my name, I will not tell you that nor my degree. But if\nyou would know these things, I bid you for to ask them of this lady who\nis my companion.\"\n\nThen Sir Percevant turned him to Lynette, and he said, \"Damsel, who is\nthis knight?\" And Lynette said: \"Sir, I know not otherwise than that he\nis a kitchen knave of King Arthur's court who hath clothed himself in\narmor. He is called Beaumains, and fain would I have been rid of him\nseveral times, but could not; for ever he followeth me, and, maugre my\nwishes, will ever serve as my champion.\"\n\nThen Sir Percevant turned unto Sir Gareth with great anger and he said:\n\"Sir, I know not what is this jest that you and your damsel seek to put\nupon me, but this I do know, that since you have appointed her to speak\nfor you, and since she declareth you to be a kitchen knave, so must I\nbelieve you to be. Wherefore, unless you straightway declare your name\nand your degree to me upon your own account, and unless you prove to me\nthat you are otherwise than this damsel sayeth, I shall straightway have\nyou stripped of your armor and shall have you bound and beaten with\ncords for this affront that you have put upon my shield.\"\n\nThen Sir Gareth spake very calmly, saying: \"Sir, that would be a pity\nfor you to do, for I have to tell you that, whether I be a kitchen knave\nor no, nevertheless I have had to do with several good and worthy\nknights of fair repute. For I have to tell you that one of these knights\nwas Sir Launcelot of the Lake and that he made me knight. And I have to\ntell you that another one of these was your own brother, Sir Perard,\nwhom I overcame yesterday in battle and whom I would have slain only\nthat this damsel besought his life at my hands. And I have to tell you\nthat Sir Perard is even now upon his way to the court of King Arthur,\nthere to pay his duty to the King upon my demand upon him to that end.\"\n\nThen Sir Percevant cleared his brow of its anger, and he said: \"Sir, I\nperceive from all that you tell me that you are some knight of very good\nquality and merit. Wherefore I will withdraw that which I said and will\ndo you battle because you have struck my shield. And it will go hard\nwith me but I shall serve you in such a way as shall well wipe out that\naffront in your warm red blood. For I promise you that I shall not let\nor stay in the battle against you.\"\n\nSo spake Sir Percevant and straightway he withdrew him into his tent and\nseveral of the knights who were his companions and several esquires who\nhad gathered about in this while of talk, went into his pavilion with\nhim and there aided him to don his armor and to fit himself for battle.\n\n[Sidenote: _Of the meadow of battle._]\n\nSo anon Sir Percevant came forth again in all wise prepared for that\nbattle. And his esquires brought to him a noble horse as white as milk\nand they assisted him to mount thereon. And Sir Percevant took a great\nspear into his hand and so turned and led the way toward a fair smooth\nlevel lawn of grass whereon two knights might well run atilt against one\nanother. And all they who were of that company followed Sir Percevant\nand Sir Gareth to that lawn of grass, and the damsel Lynette and the\ndwarf Axatalese went thither along with the others.\n\nSo coming to that place a marshal of the lists was appointed, and\nthereafter each knight was assigned a certain station by that marshal.\nThen, everything being duly prepared, the word for the assault was\ngiven, and each knight launched forth against the other with all the\nspeed with which he was able to drive. So they met in the midst of the\ncourse with a great roar and crashing of wood and metal and in that\nencounter the spear of each knight was broken into small pieces and the\nhorse of each staggered back from beneath the blow and would have fallen\nhad not the knight rider recovered him with rein and spur and voice.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth doeth battle with Sir Percevant._]\n\nThen each knight leaped down from his horse and drew his sword and\nrushed to the assault afoot with all the fierceness of two wild boars\nengaged in battle. And thereupon they fell to lashing such blows at one\nanother that even they who looked on from a distance were affrighted at\nthe violence and the uproar of that assault. For the two champions\nfought very fiercely, and the longer they fought the more fiercely they\ndid battle. And in a little while the armor of each was all stained red,\nand the ground upon which they fought was all besprinkled with red, yet\nneither knight had any thought of yielding to the other in any whit or\ndegree, but still each fought on with ever-increasing fury against the\nother.\n\nNow at this time neither knight had aught of advantage against the\nother, and no man might have told how that battle would have gone, but\nat the moment of the greatest doubt, Lynette uplifted her voice aloud,\nas it were in terror, crying out very shrilly and vehemently: \"Good\nworthy knight Sir Percevant, will you then let a kitchen knave and a\nscullion stay you thus in your battle?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth overcometh Sir Percevant._]\n\nThen it befell as it had befallen before when Sir Gareth fought with the\nBlack Knight, Sir Percevant's brother, for Sir Gareth heard the words\nthat Lynette cried out, and straightway it was as though the new\nstrength of several men had entered into his body because of his anger\nat those words. And that anger consumed all else that was before it,\nwhether that other were of prudence or of temper. For straightway Sir\nGareth flung aside his shield and seized his sword in both hands and\nrushed upon Sir Percevant and struck blow upon blow so fiercely and so\nviolently that nor skill nor strength might withstand his assault. Then\nSir Percevant fell back before that assault and could not do otherwise,\nand he bore his shield full low; but ever Sir Gareth followed him and\nsmote him more and more violently so that Sir Percevant could no longer\nhold up his shield against the assault of his enemy. And Sir Gareth\nperceived that Sir Percevant waxed feeble in his defence and with that\nhe rushed in and smote Sir Percevant upon the helm so woeful a blow that\nSir Percevant could no longer stand upon his feet but sank slowly down\nupon his knees before Sir Gareth. Then Sir Gareth ran to Sir Percevant\nand catched him by the helm and rushed the helm off from his head and\nwith that Sir Percevant wist that death overshadowed him. Then Sir\nPercevant catched Sir Gareth about the thighs and, embracing him, cried\nout: \"Messire, spare my life and do not slay me!\" And all those knights\nand esquires who were in attendance upon Sir Percevant pressed about Sir\nGareth where he stood, and lifted up their voices, also crying out: \"Sir\nKnight, do not slay that good worthy knight our champion, but spare his\nlife to him.\"\n\nThen Sir Gareth, all wet with the blood and sweat of battle and panting\nfor breath said in a very hoarse voice: \"Ask ye not for this knight's\nlife for I will not spare his life to him except upon one condition, and\nthat condition is that the damsel whose champion I am shall ask his life\nat my hands.\"\n\nNow at that time Lynette was weeping amain, though whether with dread of\nthat fierce battle or because of something else, who may tell? Yet ever\nshe wept, and ever she laughed and wept again. And she cried out: \"Thou\nsaucy knave, Beaumains, who art thou to make such a demand as that?\"\n\nBut Sir Gareth said: \"If I be saucy, let it pass, yet so it is as I have\nsaid, and I will not spare this knight his life unless thou ask it of\nme,\" and therewith he catched Sir Percevant by the hair and lifted his\nsword on high as though to separate the head of Sir Percevant from off\nhis body.\n\n[Sidenote: _Lynette beseecheth Sir Percevant's life._]\n\nThen all those knights and esquires crowded around Lynette and besought\nher that she would ask for the life of Sir Percevant. And Lynette said:\n\"Stay thy hand, Beaumains, and slay him not, for it would be a pity for\nso good and worthy a knight as Sir Percevant of Hind to lose his life at\nthe hands of a kitchen knave such as thou art.\"\n\nThen Sir Gareth said: \"Arise, Sir Knight, and stand up, for the word of\nthis lady hath saved thy life.\" And therewith Sir Gareth released his\nhold of Sir Percevant and Sir Percevant arose and stood up.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth commandeth service of Sir Percevant._]\n\nThen Sir Percevant said: \"Sir, thou hast beaten me in a very fair and\nbitter battle and so I yield myself to thee. Now I pray thee tell me\nwhat are thy commands upon me?\" And Sir Gareth said: \"Sir, thou sayest\nwell, and these are my commands: that thou, together with all this thy\ncompany of knights and esquires, do take your departure from this field\nand that ye all go to the court of King Arthur. And it is my desire that\nwhen thou hast come to the court of the King thou shalt pay thy duty to\nhim and say to him that Beaumains, the kitchen knave, hath sent thee to\npay that duty.\"\n\nThen Sir Percevant bowed his head before Sir Gareth and said: \"Sir, it\nshall be as you command.\" And after that he said, \"Sir, I pray you that\nyou will do me this favor; I pray you that you will come with me to\nyonder castle at that town which you see afar off. For that is my castle\nand my town and I am fain that you should rest you ere you go farther\nupon your way, and that you should refresh yourself at my castle. I\nperceive that you are wounded in several places, and I would fain that\nyou should have your wounds searched and dressed and that you should\nhave rest and ease ere you go forward, so that your wounds may be healed\nand that you may be made hale when you undertake your further\nadventures.\"\n\nTo this Sir Gareth said: \"Sir, I thank you well for your courtesy and it\nwill pleasure me greatly to go to your castle with you and there to rest\nme awhile. For indeed it hath been a sore battle that I have fought with\nyou this day and I suffer a very great deal of pain. Moreover I have\nfought other battles of late and am aweary and in no fit case to go\nfarther at this present.\"\n\nSo after Sir Gareth and Sir Percevant had rested them a little, they\nand all of their companies departed thence and betook their way to the\ncastle of Sir Percevant. There Sir Gareth was bathed and his wounds were\nsearched and dressed and he was put in all ease that was possible.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth rests him in the castle of Sir Percevant._]\n\nAnd Sir Percevant gave command that ever a company of knights should\nstand guard over Sir Gareth where he lay so that no harm should befall\nhim, and it was done according to that command. So Sir Gareth abided at\nthe castle of Sir Percevant for five days and in all that time he saw\nnothing whatsoever of the damsel Lynette; for he lay in one part of the\ncastle and she dwelt in another part. Then at the end of five days, Sir\nGareth was well healed of his wounds and was in all ways hale and strong\nto carry out his further adventures.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Sidenote: _Lynette maketh peace with Sir Gareth._]\n\nNow when those five days aforesaid were past, Sir Gareth made him ready\nto depart, and Lynette also made herself ready to depart, and so they\ntook their leave of the castle of Sir Percevant. And they rode out\nthrough the gateway of the castle and into the sunlight that lay beyond,\nand it was a wonderfully bright cheerful pleasant day with all the\nlittle birds singing amain and the blossoms falling like snow whensoever\nthat the wind blew through the branches of the apple-trees. Thus they\ndeparted and after that they rode for a long while. So they came two or\nthree leagues upon their way, and in that time neither said anything to\nthe other but both rode in silence. Then at last Lynette turned her\nabout and Sir Gareth perceived that her eyes shone very bright. And\nLynette said, \"Sir, have you anger against me?\" Then Sir Gareth, who was\nriding some little distance away, as he had aforetime done upon her\nbidding, came nearer to her and said: \"Nay, fair damsel; why think you\nthat I should anger have against you? Have I shown you any anger, that\nyou should say those words to me?\" She said: \"Nay, Messire, never at any\ntime have you shown anger toward me, but you have ever been to me all\nthat it was possible for any noble and worthy knight to be to a lady who\nhad treated him with all consideration and regard, and this you have\ndone in spite of the scornful way in which I have treated you. And also\nI have very well perceived the manner in which you have borne yourself\nin these several contests at arms which you have fought, and I have\nbeheld you to be as brave and haughty toward those knights who were\nstrong and valiant, as you have been gentle and kind to me who am a\nwoman.\"\n\nThen Sir Gareth smiled and he said: \"Lady, you make much of that which\nis very little. Know you not that it behooves all true knights to be\ngentle and patient with all such as are not so strong as they? So it is\nthat in being courteous to you I have done naught except that which I\nhave been taught to do in such a case. As for those bitter words you\nspake to me, I may tell you that any anger which I might have felt\ntherefor I visited upon those knights against whom I fought. For when\nyou gave me those bitter words, then I gave them bitter blows therefor,\nand the more you scorned me the more strongly and vehemently did I\nfight.\"\n\nThen Lynette said: \"Sir, you are certes a very high, noble, and worthy\nknight, and she unto whom you vouchsafe to give your belle regard that\nlady will be as fortunate as any of whom I ever heard tell. For I\nbelieve that it is not possible for any knight ever to have been so\ntried as I have tried you for all this while that we have journeyed\ntogether; wherefore, if you have proved yourself so worthy in this\nthing, how much more will you prove yourself worthy in those greater\nthings that shall in time come unto you?\"\n\nSo spake Lynette and thereat Sir Gareth laughed a little and said: \"Fair\ndamsel, have I now leave to ride beside you, and is there now peace\nbetwixt us?\" And Lynette said, \"Yea, Messire.\" So therewith Sir Gareth\nrode forward until he was come beside Lynette, and from that time\nforward there was peace and concord betwixt them; for Lynette was now as\nkind and humble to him as she had been saucy and uncivil before.\n\n[Sidenote: _They journey together in concord._]\n\nAnd so as they journeyed together Lynette told Sir Gareth many things\nconcerning the adventure which he was entered upon that he had not known\nbefore. For she told him that this lady who was her sister was hight the\nLady Layonnesse and that she was but eighteen years of age. And she told\nhim that the Lady Layonnesse was one of the most beautiful ladies in the\nworld, and she told him that the lady was the countess of a very great\nand rich town, hight Granderegard, and of a noble castle appertaining to\nthe town, which same was called the Castle Dangerous. And she told him\nthat the marches over which the Lady Layonnesse was countess extended\nfor several leagues upon this side and upon that side of the town and\nthe castle, and she told him that the Knight of the Red Lands, who\nopposed her sister, was so strong and so doughty a knight that she\nbelieved it would be hard to find in any part of the realm so powerful a\nknight as he. And she said to Sir Gareth: \"In good sooth, Messire, I\nhave great fear that you will have sad ado to hold your own against this\nRed Knight of the Red Lands, for as Sir Perard was greater and bigger\nthan those two knights at the ford whom you overthrew so easily, and as\nSir Percevant of Hind was greater and bigger than Sir Perard, so I\nbelieve is this Red Knight of the Red Lands greater and bigger than Sir\nPercevant.\"\n\n\"Well, Lynette,\" quoth Sir Gareth, \"so far it hath been that I have had\nsuccess in all my battles but one, and in that one I suffered no\ndishonor. So I believe I may hope to have a fair fortune with this\nknight also, for wit you that the fortunes of any knight lie in the\nhands of God and not in man's hands, wherefore if it is His will that I\nfare well in this undertaking, then shall I assuredly do so.\"\n\nThus they talked in great amity of many things, and so they travelled\nfor all that day and the next day and for a part of the day after that.\nAnd somewhat early in the morning of the third day they came to the\nsummit of a certain highland whence Sir Gareth beheld a great plain,\nwell tilled and very fertile, spread out beneath that high place where\nhe stood. And he beheld that the plain was very broad and very long and\nthat in the midst thereof there was a hill and that upon the hill there\nstood a castle and that behind the castle was a town of many fair and\nwell-built houses.\n\n[Sidenote: _They behold the pavilions of the Red Knight._]\n\nThen Lynette pointed, and she said to Sir Gareth: \"See you that castle\nand that town? That castle is my sister's castle and that town is her\ntown. And, yonder, beneath the walls of the town and of the castle, you\nmay see a number of pavilions spread upon a considerable meadow. Those\nare the pavilions of the Red Knight of the Red Lands and of the knights\nand esquires attendant upon him. For there he keepeth continual watch\nand ward over the castle of my sister, so that no one may either come\nout thereof or enter thereinto without his leave for to do so.\" And Sir\nGareth said, \"Let us go down unto yonder place.\"\n\nSo straightway they descended from the highland into the plain, and so\nwent forward upon their way toward the town and the castle of the Lady\nLayonnesse.\n\nNow as they drew more nigh to that place where the pavilions of the Red\nKnight of the Red Lands and of his companions at arms had been spread,\nthey went past a great many pollard willow-trees standing all in a row.\nAnd Sir Gareth beheld that upon each tree there hung either one shield\nor two or three shields and that each shield bore some device of\nknighthood. At that sight he was greatly astonished, and he said: \"Fair\ndamsel, I prythee tell me what is the meaning of this sight and why\nthose shields are hung to yonder pollard willow-trees?\" Quoth Lynette:\n\"Sir, each one of those shields is the shield of some knight whom the\nRed Knight of the Red Lands hath overthrown. And some of these knights\nhave been slain in battle by the Knight of the Red Lands, and some have\nnot been slain, but all those who were not slain have been disgraced in\nthe encounter which they have fought. For from each knight which he hath\noverthrown the Red Knight of the Red Lands hath taken his shield and his\nhorse and hath sent him away afoot, unarmed and horseless, wherefore it\nis thought by some that it were better to have been slain in battle than\nto have suffered such disgrace as that.\"\n\nThen Sir Gareth said: \"Certes, Lynette, that must have been a very\ndoughty champion to have overcome so many knights as these. Now, if it\nis my fortune to overthrow him in that battle which I am come to fight\nwith him, then do I believe I shall win for myself more honor and credit\nthan ever fell to any young knight of my age since first Sir Percival of\nGales assumed his knighthood.\"\n\nSo said Sir Gareth, and after that he and Lynette rode onward a little\nfarther until they had come to that meadow where were the pavilions of\nthe Red Knight of the Red Lands and of his knights companion.\n\nAnd Sir Gareth and the damsel rode straight through the midst of those\npavilions and many knights and esquires came out thence to see who they\nwere who came thitherward. But ever Sir Gareth and Lynette and the dwarf\nrode onward until they had come to the center pavilion of all and that\nwas the pavilion of the Red Knight aforesaid.\n\nHere at this place were several pages and of one of them Sir Gareth\ndemanded where was that Red Knight. They say, \"Sir, he is within his\npavilion resting after his midday meal.\" Sir Gareth said, \"Go ye and\ntell him that there is one come who would have speech with him.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth beholdeth the Red Knight._]\n\nSo those esquires departed, and anon there came forth the Red Knight\nfrom his pavilion, and he was clad all in a loose robe of scarlet silk\ntrimmed with miniver. And Sir Gareth looked upon him and beheld that he\nwas very big of bone and thew and that the hair of his head and his\nbeard was exceedingly red and that his countenance was terribly lowering\nand forbidding.\n\nThen the Red Knight when he saw Sir Gareth, said, \"Who art thou, Sir\nKnight, and what is thy business here?\" And Sir Gareth said: \"Messire, I\nam one come from King Arthur's court to take up the quarrel of the Lady\nLayonnesse of this place and to serve as her champion therein.\"\n\nThen the Knight of the Red Lands said: \"Who are you? Are you a knight of\nrepute and fame at arms?\" and Sir Gareth said: \"Nay, Sir, not so; for I\nhave only been made knight fortnight, and I have but little service at\narms.\"\n\nThen the Red Knight laughed very boisterously and said: \"How is this,\nand what sort of a green knight are you, who dares to come against me!\nKnow that I have laid more than twoscore better knights than you very\nlow in the dust.\"\n\nQuoth Sir Gareth: \"That may very well be, Sir Knight. Yet is the fate\nof every one in the hands of God and so mayhap He will cause me to\noverthrow you upon this occasion.\" And Sir Gareth said: \"Now, I pray you\nthat you will let me go up to yonder castle and have speech with the\nlady thereof and if so be she will accept me for her champion, then will\nI return hitherward immediately to do battle with you.\" And the Red\nKnight said, \"Go and speak with her.\"\n\nSo Sir Gareth went up toward the Castle Dangerous and Lynette went with\nhim. And when they had come pretty nigh to the castle, the lady thereof\nappeared at an upper window and called down to Sir Gareth, saying, \"Sir,\nwho are you and whence come you?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth beholdeth the Lady Layonnesse._]\n\nThen Sir Gareth looked up and beheld the lady where she stood at the\nwindow, and he beheld her face that it was very exceedingly beautiful.\nFor, though she had dark hair like to Lynette's, and though she had\ncheeks resembling in their clear whiteness the cheeks of Lynette, and\nthough her lips were red as coral like to Lynette's, yet was she ten\ntimes more beautiful than ever was Lynette. So, beholding how beautiful\nshe was, the heart of Sir Gareth leaped straightway up to her, even as a\nbird flyeth upward, and there it rested within her bosom.\n\nThen Sir Gareth said to her: \"Lady, you ask me who I am, and I am to\ntell you that I am one come from King Arthur's court to serve you as\nyour champion if so be you will accept me as such.\"\n\nThen the Lady Layonnesse said, \"Sir, are you a knight of good fame and\nservice?\" And Sir Gareth said, \"Nay, Lady, but only a green knight very\nlittle used to arms. For I have but been a knight for these few days and\nthough I have fought several battles with good fortune in that time, yet\nI know not as yet what may be my fate when I meet such a knight as the\nRed Knight of the Red Lands. Yet this is true, Lady, that though I be\nbut very young and untried at arms, yet is my spirit very great for this\nundertaking.\"\n\nThen the Lady Layonnesse said: \"Sir, what is your name and what is your\ndegree?\" And Sir Gareth said: \"I may not tell you that at this present,\nfor I will not declare my name until that my kindred (who yet do not\nknow me) shall have acknowledged me.\" To this the Lady Layonnesse said:\n\"This is very strange, and I am much affronted that King Arthur should\nhave sent to me from his court a knight without a name and without any\ncredit at arms for to serve as my champion.\" And Sir Gareth said, \"Lady,\nthere was reason for it.\"\n\nThen the Lady Layonnesse said, \"Is not that my sister Lynette whom I\nbehold with thee?\" and Sir Gareth said, \"Yea, Lady.\" The Lady said,\n\"Who is this knight, Lynette?\" and Lynette replied, \"I know not, my\nsister, saving only that I have good reason to believe that he is the\nnoblest and the haughtiest and the most worthy of all knights whom I\nhave ever beheld.\" \"Well,\" quoth the Lady Layonnesse, \"if thou dost thus\nvouch for him, then upon thee be the peril of my choosing.\" And Lynette\nsaid, \"Let it be so.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Layonnesse giveth Sir Gareth her scarf._]\n\nThen the Lady Layonnesse said, \"Sir Knight, I take thee for my\nchampion.\" And therewith she let fall from the window where she stood a\nfair scarf of green samite embroidered with threads of gold. And Sir\nGareth catched the scarf with such joy that it was as though his heart\nwould burst for happiness. And he wrapped the scarf about his arm, and\nimmediately it was as though the virtue of his strength had been\nincreased threefold.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow if so be you would know how Sir Gareth sped in his business with the\nRed Knight of the Red Lands, I beg of you for to read that which\nfolloweth, for therein withal it shall be immediately declared.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: The Lady Layonnesse cometh to the Pavilion of Sir\nGareth]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Fifth\n\n_How Sir Gareth fought with the Red Knight of the Red Lands and how it\nfared with him in that battle. Also how his dwarf was stolen, and how\nhis name and estate became known and were made manifest._\n\n\nNow after Sir Gareth had received the scarf of the Lady Layonnesse as\naforetold, he and Lynette and the dwarf returned to a certain meadow\nnigh to the pavilions where it had been ordained that the battle should\nbe held. There they found that the Red Knight of the Red Lands had made\nhimself in all ways ready for that battle. For he was now clad all in\narmor as red as blood, and in his hand he bore a great spear that was\nalso altogether red; and on the tip of the spear was a red banneret that\nwas likewise as red as blood.\n\nAt that field that had been prepared for battle, there was a great\nconcourse of people assembled and there also the damsel Lynette took her\nstand at a place that had been assigned unto her; and the dwarf\nAxatalese was near by in attendance upon her. And there had been a\nmarshal of the field appointed to judge of the battle that was to be\nfought, and as each knight came to the field, the marshal led him to\nwhere he was to take his stand--which stand was in such a place as\nshould offer a fair course and so that the sun should not shine into the\neyes of either of the knights contestant.\n\nSo when everything was duly prepared for battle and when the knights had\ntaken each his place and when each knight was in all ways ready for the\ncourse to be run, the marshal cried out the call to the assault.\nThereupon each knight immediately leaped his horse away from where it\nstood and hurtled the one against the other like a whirlwind with a\ngreat thunder of galloping hoofs. So they came together in a cloud of\ndust and with a terrible crashing of splintered wood. For in that\nencounter each knight shattered his lance into pieces, even to the hand\nthat held it, and so violent was the blow that each gave the other that\nboth horses staggered back as though they had struck each against a\nsolid rock instead of against an armed rider.\n\nThen each knight voided his tottering horse, and each drew his sword,\nand immediately they rushed together with such eagerness that it was as\nthough the lust of battle was the greatest joy that the world could have\nfor them. So they fell to fighting with the utmost and most terrible\nfury, lashing such blows that the sound of the strokes of iron upon iron\nresembled the continual roaring of thunder.\n\n[Sidenote: _Of the battle of Sir Gareth with the Red Knight._]\n\nSo they fought for so long a while that it was a wonder that any man of\nflesh and blood could withstand the blows that each gave and received.\nFor ever and anon the sword would find its place and upon such a blow\nsome cantel of armor would maybe be hewn from the body of that knight\nwho received the stroke. And the book that telleth of this battle sayeth\nthat the side of each knight was in a while made naked in places because\nthat the armor had been hewn away from it. And it sayeth the armor of\nSir Gareth was wellnigh as red as was the armor of his enemy because of\nthe blood that dyed it that ensanguine color. And the same history says\nthat they were somewhile so bemazed by the blows that they endured that\neither would at times seize the sword of the other for his own, for it\nis recorded in that history that they fought in that wise for more than\ntwo hours at a stretch without taking any rest from battle.\n\nBut although the battle continued for that long time, yet by and by\ntheir blows waxed somewhat faint and feeble compared to what they had at\nfirst been, and each knight tottered upon his feet at times because of\nhis weakness and loss of blood. So at last the Red Knight of the Red\nLands cried out to Sir Gareth: \"Sir Knight, stay thy hand and let us\nrest, for I see that neither of us can fight this battle to its end as\nwe are now fighting.\" So said the Red Knight, and at that saying Sir\nGareth held his hand and said, \"So be it, Sir Knight, as you ordain.\"\n\nSo they stinted their fighting for that while and they sat them down to\nrest, each upon a bank of earth. And a page came to the Red Knight of\nthe Red Lands and unlaced his helm and the dwarf Axatalese did the same\nfor Sir Gareth, and the page and the dwarf took each the helm from off\nthe head of his master, and so they two sat where the wind might blow\ncold upon their faces.\n\nThen anon Sir Gareth lifted up his eyes and he beheld where that the\nLady Layonnesse stood at the high window of the castle aforesaid, and\nseveral of the chief folk of the castle stood with her at that time.\nThen Sir Gareth saluted the Lady Layonnesse and when she beheld him\nsalute her she cried out, in a very shrill and piercing voice: \"Alas,\nSir Knight! Fail me not! For whom have I to depend upon but thee?\" So\nshe cried out in that very shrill voice, and Sir Gareth heard her words\neven from that distance. Then when he heard those words his heart grew\nbig within him once more and his spirit waxed light and he called out,\n\"Sir Red Knight, let us at our battle again!\"\n\nTherewith each knight resumed his helm and when each helm was laced into\nplace, Axatalese and the page of the Red Knight leaped aside, and the\ntwo came together once more, greatly refreshed by that rest which they\nhad enjoyed.\n\nSo they fought for a great while longer, and then they had pause again\nfor a little. Then Sir Gareth perceived that the Red Knight was panting\nas though his bosom would burst and therewith he rushed at his enemy\nwith intent for to smite him one last blow and so to end the battle. But\nthe Red Knight was very wary and he was expecting that assault,\nwherefore he quickly avoided Sir Gareth's stroke, and thereupon he\nhimself launched an overthwart blow that smote Sir Gareth upon the hand,\nand upon that blow the sword of Sir Gareth fell down out of his hand\ninto the grass of the field.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth falleth and is in great danger._]\n\nThen the Red Knight leaped upon Sir Gareth and he struck him again and\nyet again and he struck him a third time a blow upon the helm and at\nthat third blow the brains of Sir Gareth melted within him and he fell\ndown upon his knees and then down to the ground for he had not power to\nstand. Then the Red Knight leaped upon Sir Gareth and fell upon him with\nintent to hold him down so that he might finish with him and Sir Gareth\ncould not put him away.\n\nBut when the damsel Lynette beheld how that Sir Gareth was beneath his\nenemy and was in danger of being slain, she shrieked out aloud in a very\nshrill penetrating voice, crying, \"Alas, Beaumains! Do you fail your\nlady, and are you but a kitchen knave after all?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth overcometh the Red Knight._]\n\nNow Sir Gareth heard those words, even through the swooning of his\nsenses, and therewith it was with him as it had been twice before; for\nas he heard the words there came new strength into his body, and with\nthat he heaved himself up and cast the Red Knight from him. And he\nleaped to his feet and rushed to where his sword lay in the grass. And\nhe catched up his sword and sprang upon the Red Knight and smote him a\nvery terrible blow. And Sir Gareth so smote him again and yet again. And\nhe smote him a fourth time so woeful a blow upon the helm that the Red\nKnight fell down to the earth and could not rise again. Then Sir Gareth\nfell upon the Red Knight and held him where he was upon the ground. And\nhe drew his miseracordia and cut the thongs of the helm of the Red\nKnight and plucked the helm from off the Red Knight's head. And he set\nhis miseracordia to the throat of the Red Knight and with that the Red\nKnight beheld Death, as it were, looking him in the face.\n\nThen all they who were thereabouts came running to where the two knights\nlay, and they cried out aloud to Sir Gareth, saying, \"Sir Knight! Sir\nKnight! Spare the knight our champion and slay him not!\" And the Red\nKnight said in a voice very faint and weak, \"Sir Knight, spare me my\nlife!\"\n\nThen Sir Gareth cried out, \"I will not spare this knight unless he yield\nhim altogether to my will.\" And the knight said, \"I yield me.\" And Sir\nGareth said, \"Still I will not spare this knight his life unless yonder\ndamsel crave his life at my hands.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Lynette asketh for the life of the Red Knight._]\n\nThen Lynette came forward to where Sir Gareth still held his enemy to\nearth and she was weeping a very great deal. And she said: \"Brave Sir\nBeaumains, be ye merciful as well as powerful and spare this good\nworshipful knight his life.\" And Sir Gareth said, \"So will I do at thy\ndemand.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth layeth his commands upon the Red Knight._]\n\nTherewith Sir Gareth got him up upon his feet and the Red Knight arose\nalso, and so sore had been their battle that both knights had to be held\nupon their feet by those who stood near by. Then the Red Knight said,\nspeaking in a very weak and fainting voice, \"Fair Sir Knight, what are\nthy commands upon me?\" and Sir Gareth said: \"These are my commands: that\nso soon as you shall be sufficiently healed of your hurts you and all\nthese your people shall depart hence and take your way to the court of\nKing Arthur. And my command is that you shall tell King Arthur that\nBeaumains, the kitchen knave, hath sent you thither for to pay your\nhomage unto him. And because you have dishonored other knights as you\nhave done by taking away their shields and horses, it is my will that\nyou shall also be dishonored; for I ordain that your shield shall be\ntaken away from you and that it shall be hung upon one of these\nwillow-trees where you have hung the shields of those knights whom you\nhave overcome in battle as I have overcome you. And I ordain that your\nhorse shall be taken away from you and that your armor shall be taken\naway from you and that you shall travel to the court of King Arthur\nafoot; for so you have made other knights walk afoot whom you have\nbeaten in battle as I have beaten you.\"\n\nThen the Red Knight bowed his head full low for shame and he said: \"This\nis a very hard case, but as I have measured to others so it is meted\nunto me, wherefore, Messire, it shall be done in all ways as you\ncommand.\"\n\nThen Lynette came to Sir Gareth and took him by the hand and set his\nhand to her lips and she was still weeping at that time. Then Sir\nGareth smiled upon her and said, \"Hah! Lynette, have I done well?\" and\nLynette still wept, and she said, with all her weeping, \"Yea, Messire.\"\nAnd anon she said: \"I pray you, Messire, that you will go with me up to\nthe castle of my sister so that you may there be cherished and that your\nwounds may be looked to and searched and dressed.\"\n\nBut to this Sir Gareth said: \"Not so, Lynette; for behold I am sorely\nwounded and I am all foul with the blood and dust and sweat of battle\nand so I will be refreshed and made clean ere I appear before that most\nfair lady your sister. So this night I will lie in the pavilion of this\nRed Knight, there to be cleansed of my hurts and to be refreshed. Then\nto-morrow I will come up unto my lady your sister.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth abideth in the pavilion of the Red Knight._]\n\nAnd so it was done as Sir Gareth would have it, for that night he lay in\nthe pavilion of the Red Knight and he was bathed and refreshed, and a\nskillful leech came and dressed his hurts. And the Red Knight of the Red\nLands had a guard of several knights set around about the pavilion so\nthat the repose of Sir Gareth should not be disturbed.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow after that battle aforetold the damsel Lynette betook her way to the\ncastle of her sister, and she entered into the castle and there was\ngreat rejoicing at her return. Then they who first met her said to her:\n\"Thy sister awaiteth thee and she is in that room in a turret where she\nkeeps her bower.\" And Lynette said, \"I will go thither.\"\n\nSo she went to that place and there she found the Lady Layonnesse, and\nher brother (who was Sir Gringamore) was with her. And Lynette ran to\nher sister and embraced her and kissed her. And she said: \"Save you, my\nsister and give you joy that the champion whom I brought hither hath\nfreed you from your enemy.\"\n\nThe Lady Layonnesse said: \"Where is that knight and why hast thou not\nbrought him hither with thee so that I may render to him my thanks?\"\n\nTo this Lynette made reply: \"Sister, he hath been sore wounded in his\nfight and he is moreover so befouled with the blood and dust of battle\nthat he would not come hither at this present but lyeth in the pavilion\nof the Red Knight until the morrow.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Lynette telleth her sister of Sir Gareth._]\n\nThen the Lady Layonnesse said: \"I pray you tell us who is this champion\nwho hath thus set me free from my oppressor?\" and Lynette said: \"That I\nknow not, only this I may tell you: that at the court of King Arthur\nthere would no knight undertake the adventure because I would not\ndeclare your name and your degree before the King's court there\nassembled. Then there arose a youth of whom Sir Kay made great scorn\nand said that he was a kitchen knave hight Beaumains and the youth did\nnot deny that saying. And King Arthur gave him leave to go with me and\nundertake this quest, and the youth did so. So we travelled together.\nAnd I was very angry because I thought that King Arthur had given me a\nkitchen knave for my champion instead of a good worthy knight, and so I\ntreated Beaumains with great scorn, but ever he repaid all my scorn with\nvery patient and courteous speeches. So he followed me hither and now he\nis that champion who hath just now overthrown thine enemy.\"\n\nThen the Lady Layonnesse cried out, \"What matters it if this young\nknight is a kitchen knave? Lo! he is my champion and hath risked his\nlife for my sake. So because he hath fought that battle for me I will\neven raise him up to sit beside me, so that whatsoever honors are mine,\nthey shall be his honors also. For if so be he is now lowly, then by me\nshall he be exalted above the heads of all you that are hereabouts.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Lynette defendeth Beaumains._]\n\nSo said the Lady Layonnesse, and thereat Lynette laughed with great\nheartiness. And when she had ended her laughter, she said, \"My sister, I\nbelieve that it shall not be necessary for you to lift up this young\nknight. For if we should come to know who he really is, it might well be\nthat we should discover that it is he who would exalt you rather than\nyou would exalt him. For this champion can be no such kitchen knave as\nhe pretends to be, but rather is he some one of great worth and of high\ndegree. For several days I have so tried the patience of this knight\nthat I do not believe that any one was ever so tried before. But\nalthough I so tried him very sorely he was always passing patient and\ngentle with me. Think you that any kitchen knave would be so patient as\nthat? Moreover, I have beheld this knight in this short while fight six\nbattles, and always he bore himself with such haughtiness and courage\nthat were he an old and well-seasoned Knight of the Round Table of the\nKing he could not have proved himself to be more noble or more worthy.\nYou yourself have beheld to-day how he did battle against the Red Knight\nwho is certes one of the greatest knights in the world, seeing that he\nhath never before been overcome; you have beheld how he hath suffered\nwounds and the danger of death; think you then that any kitchen knave\ncould have fought such a battle as you beheld him fight? Nay, my sister,\nrather this young knight is someone of a very great and high estate.\"\n\nThen Sir Gringamore spake, saying: \"Lynette speaketh very truly, my\nsister, and in good sooth I believe that this is no kitchen knave, but\none who is sprung from the blood of right champions. Now tell me,\nLynette, I pray thee, is there no one who knoweth this knight who he\nreally is?\" and Lynette replied: \"Yea, there is one who knoweth and\nthat is the dwarf Axatalese. He could tell us who this knight really is,\nfor he hath followed him for a long time every where he hath gone.\"\n\nThen Sir Gringamore bethought him for a little while, and anon he said:\n\"Meseemeth it is needful that we have this dwarf for so only shall we\ncome to know who that knight is. Now thou and I and Lynette will go down\nto the place of those pavilions. And thou shalt go to the pavilion of\nthe knight and bring the dwarf out thence, for I doubt not he will come\nat thy bidding. Meantime, whilst thou are finding that dwarf I shall be\nhidden in some secret place, and when thou hast brought him near enough\nto me I will leap out upon him and will catch him. Then we will fetch\nhim hither, and it will go hard but we learn who this knight is.\"\n\nSo it was done as Sir Gringamore said; for he and the damsel Lynette\nwent to a place nigh to the place of pavilions where there was a hedge.\nAnd Sir Gringamore hid him behind the hedge and so after he was hidden\nLynette went alone to the pavilion of the Red Knight where Sir Gareth\nlay. Now at that time they all slept, even to the guard that surrounded\nthe tent. And so Lynette passed through their midst and none heard her.\nAnd Lynette came to the pavilion where Sir Gareth lay and she lifted the\ncurtain of the door of the tent and looked within and beheld Sir Gareth\nwhere he lay sleeping upon a couch with a night-light burning very\nfaintly near by him. And she beheld where the dwarf Axatalese lay\nsleeping near to the door of the tent.\n\nThen Lynette entered the pavilion very softly and she reached out and\ntouched Axatalese upon the shoulder and therewith he immediately awoke.\nAnd Axatalese was astonished at beholding the damsel at that place, but\nLynette laid her finger upon her lips and whispered very low to him,\n\"Say naught, Axatalese, but follow me.\" And Axatalese did so.\n\nSo the maiden brought Axatalese out of the pavilion and he followed her\nin silence. And she brought him through the other pavilions and still\never he followed her in silence and no one stayed them in their going.\nSo Axatalese followed Lynette and she led him by a path that brought\nthem out of the field where the pavilions were and to that place near by\nwhere Sir Gringamore lay hidden behind the hawthorn hedge. Then when\nAxatalese was come very close to that place Sir Gringamore leaped out of\na sudden from the thicket and catched him. And Axatalese lifted up his\nvoice and fell to yelling very loud and shrill, but anon Sir Gringamore\nclapped his hand upon the mouth of the creature and silenced him. And\nSir Gringamore drew his miseracordia and set it at the throat of\nAxatalese and said to him, \"Sirrah, be silent, if you would live.\" And\nat that Axatalese ceased to struggle and was perfectly silent. Then Sir\nGringamore released his hand from the mouth of Axatalese and Axatalese\nwas afraid to utter any further outcry.\n\n[Sidenote: _They bring Axatalese to the castle._]\n\nSo after that Sir Gringamore and Lynette brought Axatalese to the castle\nand into the castle. And they brought him to that place where the Lady\nLayonnesse awaited their coming. Then, when they were safely come to\nthat place, Sir Gringamore said to Axatalese, \"Sirrah Dwarf, tell us who\nis that knight, thy master, and what is his degree?\" And Axatalese cried\nout, \"Alas, Messire, harm me not.\" Quoth Sir Gringamore, \"No harm shall\nbefall thee, only speak as I bid thee and tell us who thy master is.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Axatalese telleth of Sir Gareth._]\n\nThen Axatalese trembling with fear, said: \"Fair Messire, the knight my\nmaster is hight Sir Gareth and he is the son of King Lot of Orkney and\nthe Queen Margaise, the sister of King Arthur, and so it is that he is\nright brother of those noble worthy champions, Sir Gawaine and Sir\nGaheris, and he is the brother of Sir Mordred of Orkney.\"\n\nNow when Lynette heard the words that Axatalese spoke she smote her\nhands very violently together and she cried out in a loud and piercing\nvoice: \"Said I not so? Well did I know that this was no kitchen knave,\nbut otherwise that he was some very noble and worthy knight. So he is,\nfor there is none better in all the world than he. Rejoice, my sister,\nfor here indeed is a great honor that hath befallen thee. For this is a\nvery worthy champion to have saved thee from thy distresses.\"\n\nAnd the Lady Layonnesse said: \"Sister, I do indeed rejoice and that\nbeyond all measure.\" And she turned her to Sir Gringamore and said: \"My\nbrother, let us straightway hasten and go to this worthy knight so that\nwe may give him such thanks as is fitting for one of his degree to\nreceive.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" quoth Sir Gringamore, \"not so. Rather let us wait until to-morrow\nand until he has altogether rested himself from this day of battle.\nMeantime, I will take this dwarf back whence we brought him and\nto-morrow we will pay Sir Gareth all due honor.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gringamore payeth court to Sir Gareth._]\n\nSo it was as Sir Gringamore ordained. For first he took Axatalese back\nto the place of the pavilions, and after that they waited until the\nmorn. And when the morn was come Sir Gringamore and the Lady Layonnesse\nand Lynette went down to that place of the pavilions and to the pavilion\nof Sir Gareth, and the Lady Layonnesse and the damsel Lynette waited\noutside of the tent and Sir Gringamore entered thereinto. And Sir\nGringamore came to where Sir Gareth lay and he saluted Sir Gareth\nsaying, \"Save you, Sir Gareth of Orkney.\"\n\nThen Sir Gareth was greatly astonished and he said: \"How know you my\nname and my degree, Messire?\" And Sir Gringamore said: \"Sir, my sister\nthe damsel Lynette, and I, catched thy dwarf last night and took him\naway to my sister's castle. There we compelled him to tell us who you\nwere, and so we had knowledge of your name and your condition.\" And Sir\nGringamore said: \"Sir Gareth, we are rejoiced beyond measure that you\nhave so greatly honored us as to come hither and to serve as the\nchampion of my sister, the Lady Layonnesse. Now if you will suffer her\nto have speech with you, she standeth without the door of the pavilion.\"\nAnd Sir Gareth said, \"Let her come in for I would fain see her near at\nhand.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Layonnesse cometh to Sir Gareth._]\n\nSo Sir Gringamore went out of the pavilion and immediately he returned,\nbringing the Lady Layonnesse and Lynette with him. And the Lady\nLayonnesse came and kneeled down beside the couch whereon Sir Gareth\nlay. And Sir Gareth saw her face near by and he saw that it was ten\ntimes more beautiful than he had supposed it to be when he saw it from a\ndistance at the upper window of the Castle Dangerous as aforetold of.\nAnd Sir Gareth loved her from that moment with all his heart and from\nthat time forth his love never wavered from her.\n\nThat day they brought Sir Gareth to the castle in a litter and Sir\nGareth abided at the castle for a fortnight and in that time he was\naltogether healed of his hurts that he had got in his battle with the\nRed Knight.\n\nAnd ever Sir Gareth loved the Lady Layonnesse more and more and ever she\nloved him in like manner. So they were continually together and it was\nsaid of all that heaven had never sent to the earth two more beautiful\nyoung creatures than they.\n\nThen at the end of that fortnight aforesaid, Sir Gareth said: \"Now it\nbehooves me to return to the court of the King to proclaim myself to my\nbrothers. For since I have succeeded in overthrowing the Red Knight of\nthe Red Lands and so of achieving this adventure, I believe I am not\nunworthy to proclaim myself even unto my brothers.\"\n\nSo spake Sir Gareth, and to this the Lady Layonnesse replied: \"Sir, it\nis indeed well that you return to the court of the King. But when you go\nI beseech you that you will permit my brother, Sir Gringamore, and my\nsister Lynette, and I myself for to go with you. For so you who departed\nalone will return with a company of those who love and honor you.\" Thus\nsaid the Lady Layonnesse for it had come to pass by this time that she\ncould not bear to be parted from Sir Gareth even for so short a while as\na few days.\n\n[Sidenote: _They all depart for the court of the King._]\n\nAccordingly, it was done as she said and straightway preparation was\nmade for their departure. So the next day they took leave of the Castle\nDangerous for a while, betaking their way with a considerable court of\nknights, esquires, and attendants to the King's court at Carleon where\nthe King was at that time still abiding.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow return we to the court of King Arthur ere those others shall come\nthither, so that we may see how it befell at that place after the\ndeparture of the kitchen knave Beaumains.\n\nNow it hath been told how that Sir Kay departed to follow after\nBeaumains for to have a fall of him; and it hath been told how that Sir\nKay returned to court upon a gray mule; and it hath been told how that\nSir Kay was made the mock and laughing-stock, all because of the\nmisadventure that had befallen him.\n\nAfter that there passed five days, and at the end of that time there\ncame Sir Perard to the court with the word that Sir Gareth had bidden\nhim for to carry thither; to wit, that the kitchen knave, Beaumains,\nhath beaten him in battle and had sent him thither for to pay his duty\nunto the King.\n\n[Sidenote: _How the several knights do homage._]\n\nThen King Arthur said: \"'Fore Heaven! What sort of a kitchen knave is\nthis to overcome so brave and well-seasoned a knight as Sir Perard? This\ncan be no kitchen knave, but rather is he some youth of very heroic race\nwho hath been dwelling for all this while unknown in our midst, in the\nguise of a kitchen knave.\" So said the King. And Sir Gawaine said,\n\"Lord, I may well believe that what you say is indeed the case.\"\n\nThen two days after Sir Perard had come to Carleon in that wise, there\ncame thither that knight whom Sir Gareth had saved from the six thieves.\nAnd he brought a very considerable court of esquires and attendants with\nhim; and he also told of the further doings of Sir Gareth. And when they\nat Carleon heard those things, both the King and the court made loud\nmarvel and acclaim that Beaumains should have become so wonderful a\nchampion as to do those things that were told of him.\n\nAfter that there passed a week and at the end of that time there came\nSir Percevant of Hind with a great court of knights and esquires\naccompanying him; and he also brought the same word that Sir Perard had\ndone; to wit, that Beaumains, the kitchen knave, had overcome him in\nbattle and had sent him to the King's court for to pay his duty to the\nKing. And at that King Arthur and all of his court knew not what to\nthink of a kitchen knave who should do such wonderful works.\n\nSo passed a fortnight and at the end of that time there came the Red\nKnight of the Red Lands, walking afoot and without shield or armor but\nsurrounded by even a greater court of knights and esquires than Sir\nPercevant had brought with him. And he also brought the same word to\nthe King--that the kitchen knave, Beaumains, had overcome him and had\nsent him thither to pay his duty to the King. And besides this he told\nthe King many things concerning this same Beaumains that the others had\nnot told; to wit, how Beaumains had carried his adventure of the Castle\nDangerous through to a worthy ending and how that he was even then\nlodging at the castle of the Lady Layonnesse of Granderegard.\n\nSo when King Arthur and his court heard all these things, he and they\nwist not what to think, but marvelled as to who this extraordinary young\nchampion was.\n\n[Sidenote: _Queen Margaise cometh to court._]\n\nNow the day after the Red Knight of the Red Lands had come to Carleon as\naforetold, it befell that there came to the court of the King an herald;\nand the herald brought news that Queen Margaise of Orkney was even then\nupon her way for to visit the King.\n\nThen King Arthur was very glad that his sister was coming thither for he\nloved her above all others of his kin. So it came to pass that when the\nday after the next day had come, Queen Margaise reached the court of the\nKing as she had promised to do, and the King and the court gave her\nroyal greeting.\n\nThen Queen Margaise looked all about and by and by she said, \"Where is\nmy son Gareth whom I sent thitherward a year ago?\"\n\nAt that King Arthur was very much astonished, and for a little he wist\nnot what to think; then he said, \"I know of no such one as Gareth.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Queen Margaise grieveth for Sir Gareth._]\n\nUpon this Queen Margaise was filled with anxiety, for she wist not what\nto believe had happened to her son. So her color changed several times\nand several times she tried to speak and could not. Then at last she did\nspeak, saying: \"Woe is me if harm should have befallen him, for certes\nhe is the very flower of all my children.\"\n\nThen King Arthur took suddenly thought of Beaumains and he said:\n\"Sister, take heart and look up, for I believe that no harm but rather\ngreat honor hath befallen thy son. Now tell me, did he come hither about\nthe time of the feast of Pentecost a year ago?\" And the Queen said,\n\"Yea.\" Then King Arthur said: \"Tell me, was thy son fair of face and had\nhe ruddy hair and was he tall and broad of girth and had he a dwarf\nnamed Axatalese with him?\" And the Queen said, \"Yea, that was he!\" Then\nKing Arthur said: \"He hath been here, but we knew him not.\" And the\nQueen said, \"What hath befallen him?\"\n\nThen King Arthur told the Queen his sister all that had befallen. For he\ntold her how that Gareth had come thither and in what guise; and he told\nher how Gareth had dwelt all that year unknown at the court under the\nname of Beaumains because of the whiteness of his hands; and he told her\nhow that Beaumains had gone forth upon that adventure to the Castle\nDangerous; and he told her how he had succeeded in that adventure; and\nhe told her of the several other things that are herein told, and ever\nQueen Margaise listened to him.\n\nBut when King Arthur had finished his telling the Queen was very angry\nand she said: \"Methinks, my brother, that you should have known my son\nfor one of high and noble degree, even though he were clad in green as\nyou tell me and even though he did beseech no greater boon of you than\nfood and drink and lodging. For certes there was ever that in his\nbearing that bespake better things than these.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _King Arthur placates Queen Margaise._]\n\nThen King Arthur, speaking very mildly, said: \"My sister, how may one\nknow another, his name and his degree, only by looking in his face? Yet\nwit you that had I not thought there was somewhat high and noble about\nthis youth I had not given him leave to undertake this adventure in\nwhich he hath succeeded so very gloriously.\"\n\nSo spake King Arthur, but Queen Margaise was hardly yet appeased, nor\nwas she pacified for a long time afterward. Then, at last, she was\npacified.\n\nNow a day or two after this time the King called Sir Gawaine and Sir\nGaheris to him and he said to these two: \"Take you a noble court of\nknights and gentlemen and go you forth and find your brother and bring\nhim hither to our court in all such royal estate as is befitting for\nsuch a knight to enjoy. For of a surety it will be a great honor for to\nhave such a knight amongst us.\"\n\nThen Sir Gawaine and Sir Gaheris were much pleased that the King should\nso favor their brother, wherefore they fulfilled that command to the\nfull, for they chose them such a court as was as noble as possible, and\nthey set forth upon that journey as the King had commanded.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine and Sir Gaheris depart to find Sir Gareth._]\n\nSo they travelled for one whole day and for a part of another day, and\ntoward the afternoon of that second day they beheld a great company of\nknights and lords and ladies ahorseback coming toward them. And many\nesquires and attendants accompanied that fair company, and they so shone\nwith cloth of gold and with many jewels and with bright shining armor\nthat it bedazzled the eyes to look upon them. And Sir Gawaine and Sir\nGaheris wondered what lordly company that could be. And when that\ncompany had come nearer, they two perceived that at the head thereof\nthere rode two knights in armor and two ladies upon ambling palfreys and\nthey saw that the two ladies were very beautiful. And when that company\nhad come still nearer Sir Gawaine and Sir Gaheris perceived that one of\nthose knights who rode with the ladies was none other than him whom they\nhad aforetime called \"Beaumains\"; and that one of the damsels was the\ndamsel Lynette who had come to court a short time before.\n\n[Sidenote: _They meet Sir Gareth upon the way._]\n\nThen when Sir Gawaine and Sir Gaheris perceived their brother at the\nhead of that company they immediately set spurs to horse and raced\nforward to meet him with all speed they could command. And when they had\ncome to where Sir Gareth was, they leaped down from off their horses and\nran to him, crying aloud, \"Brother, Brother!\" and Sir Gareth leaped down\nfrom his horse and ran to them and so they kissed and embraced each\nother upon the highroad, weeping for joy.\n\nThus it was that Sir Gareth was acknowledged by those two noble and\nworthy knights-champion, his brothers, and so his kindred met him and\ngave him welcome.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth becometh a Knight of the Round Table._]\n\nAnd now it remains but few things to say; for there remaineth only to be\nsaid that Sir Gareth was received at the court with such rejoicings as\nyou may well suppose. And it remaineth to be said that at that same time\nthere suddenly appeared upon one of the seats of the Round Table near to\nthe seat of Sir Launcelot of the Lake a name in letters of gold, and the\nname was this:\n\n    GARETH OF ORKNEY.\n\nFor from that time Sir Gareth became a Knight of the Round Table, being\nelected thereto in that miraculous way that was usual in the case of\nthose who were chosen for that high and worshipful companionship.\n\nAnd it remaineth to be told that in a little while Sir Gareth was wedded\nto the Lady Layonnesse with great pomp and ceremony and that thereafter\nhe returned with her to the Castle Dangerous of which he was now the\nlord.\n\nAnd in after times Sir Gareth became one of the most famous of all the\nknights of the Table Round, so that much is told of him in divers books\nof chivalry. Yet there shall be no more told of his adventures at this\nplace, albeit there may be more said concerning him in another book\nwhich shall follow this book. Yet it is to be said that these are the\nmost famous adventures that befel him, and that the history of Gareth\nand Lynette is the one which is most often told of in stories and sung\nin ballads and poems.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo endeth the Story of Gareth of Orkney, which same was told at this\nplace in part because it is a good worthy history to tell at any place,\nand in part because that time in which he did battle with and was\nknighted by Sir Launcelot, as aforetold, was the only time that Sir\nLauncelot was seen by any of the court of King Arthur until after he had\naccomplished the Adventure of the Worm of Corbin.\n\nFor that which followeth dealeth of the adventure of the Worm of Corbin\nand with how that Sir Launcelot overcame that dragon and became\nacquainted with the Lady Elaine the Fair, who was the mother of Sir\nGalahad, who was the flower of all chivalry. Wherefore, if you would\nknow that part of the history of Sir Launcelot that relates to those\nthings, you must needs read that which is written hereinafter.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nPART III\n\nThe Story of Sir Launcelot and Elaine the Fair\n\n\n_Here followeth the history of Sir Launcelot's wanderings and of how he\ncame to the town of Corbin, and of how he slew the great Worm of Corbin\nthat for somewhiles brought sorrow and death to the folk of Corbin. Here\nyou shall also read the history of Elaine the Fair, the King's daughter\nof Corbin, and of how for her sake Sir Launcelot fought in the\ntournament at Astolat.\n\nAll these and several other things are herein duly set forth, so that,\nshould you please to read that which is hereafter written, I believe you\nshall find a great deal of pleasure and entertainment in that history._\n\n[Illustration: How Sir Launcelot held discourse with ye merry\nMinstrels.]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter First\n\n_How Sir Launcelot rode errant and how he assumed to undertake the\nAdventure of the Worm of Corbin._\n\n\nAnd now you shall be told how it befell Sir Launcelot after that he had\nfought with Sir Gareth and had made him knight as told in the history of\nSir Gareth.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nYou are to know that after Sir Launcelot left Sir Gareth he went his way\nvery cheerfully, and many times he bethought him of how the damsel\nLynette had taken Sir Gareth to be a kitchen knave, and at that thought\nhe would laugh with great joy of so excellent a jest.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot rideth errant._]\n\nSo with great cheerfulness of spirit he rode ever onward upon his way,\nwhilst the daylight slanted farther and farther toward sunset. And,\nafter awhile, the sun sunk in the West, and the silence of the twilight\nfell like to a soft mantle of silence upon the entire earth. The\ndarkness fell, the earth melted here and there into shadow and every\nsound came very clear and loud as though the bright and luminous sky\nthat arched overhead was a great hollow bell of crystal that echoed back\nevery sudden noise with extraordinary clearness. Then Sir Launcelot was\nboth hungry and athirst and he wist not where he might find refreshment\nto satisfy the needs of his body.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot meeteth the strolling minstrels._]\n\nSo, thinking of food and drink, he was presently aware of the light of\na fire shining in the gray of the falling twilight and thitherward he\ndirected his way, and in a little pass, he came to where there was a\nmerry party of strolling minstrels gathered around about that bright and\ncheerful fire. Some of these fellows were clad in blue and some in\nyellow and some in red and some in green and some in raiment pied of\nmany colors. And all they were eating with great appetite a savory stew\nof mutton and lentils seasoned with onions and washed down with lusty\ndraughts of ale and wine which they poured forth, ever and anon, from\nbig round-bellied skins into horns and cups that were held to catch it.\n\nThese jolly fellows, beholding Sir Launcelot coming to them through the\ndusk, gave him welcome with loud voices of acclaim and besought him to\ndescend from horseback and to eat with them, and Sir Launcelot was right\nglad to do so.\n\nSo he dismounted from his horse and eased it of its saddle and turned it\nloose to browse as it listed upon the grass of the wayside. And he laid\naside his shield and his spear and his sword and his helmet and he sat\nhim down with those minstrels and fell to eating and drinking with might\nand main. And the minstrels bade him to take good cheer and to eat and\ndrink all that he desired and Sir Launcelot did so.\n\n[Sidenote: _The minstrels chaunt._]\n\nThen, after Sir Launcelot and the minstrels had supped their fill, those\nlusty fellows brought forth other skins of wine and filling again the\nseveral cups and flagons they all fell to drinking and making merry. And\nseveral of the minstrels brought forth lutes and others brought forth\nviols, and anon he who was the chief minstrel called upon one to stand\nforth and sing, and that fellow did so, chaunting a rondel in praise of\nhis sweetheart's eyes. After that, another sang of battle and still\nanother sang in praise of pleasant living; meantime the others\naccompanied, with lute and viol, those who sang, and Sir Launcelot\nlistened to their music with great pleasure of heart.\n\nAll about them lay the deep silence of the moonlit night with only that\none red spot of fire and of cheerful mirth in the midst of it, and the\nfire shone very bright upon the armor of the knight and lit up all those\nquaint fellows in red and green and yellow and blue and pied so that\nthey stood forth against the blackness behind them as though they had\nbeen carved out from it with a sharp knife.\n\nThen he who was chief among the minstrels said to Sir Launcelot,\n\"Messire, will ye not also sing?\" At this Sir Launcelot laughed, and\nquoth he: \"Nay, good fellows, I cannot sing as ye do, but I will tell ye\na story an ye list to hear me.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot telleth a conte._]\n\nAt that they all cried out to tell them that story and thereupon he did\nso, telling them a certain goodly conte of two knights who loved a lady,\nbut she loved neither of them, having set her heart upon an esquire of\nlow degree. So of these two knights the one became an hermit and the\nother by force of his knighthood brought it to pass that the esquire was\nexalted from his squirehood to become a king. But when the esquire\nbecame a king the lady would have none of him, but turned her love to\nthe knight who had exalted him to his high estate. So the lady left the\nesquire who was king and married the noble knight who had made him king,\nand so, having made choice of the greatest and the noblest of all the\nthree, she dwelt happily with him to the end of her life.\n\nTo this the minstrels listed in silence and when Sir Launcelot had\nfinished they gave him great applause without measure.\n\nAfter that the minstrels sang again and Sir Launcelot told them another\ntale of chivalry; and so with good cheer the night passed pleasantly\naway until the great round moon, bright and full like to a bubble of\nshining silver, floated high in the sky above their heads, very bright\nand as glorious as day and bathing all the world in a flood of still\nwhite light, most wonderful to behold.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot would leave the minstrels._]\n\nThen perceiving it to be midnight, Sir Launcelot bestirred himself, and\nhe said: \"Good fellows, I thank ye with all my heart for the\nentertainment ye have given me, but now I am refreshed I must go again\nupon my way.\"\n\nTo this he who was chief among the minstrels said: \"Sir Knight, we would\nfain that you would remain with us to-night and would travel with us\nupon our way to-morrow, for indeed you are the pleasantest and\ncheerfulest knight that ever we met in all of our lives.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _He asketh of some adventure._]\n\nAt this Sir Launcelot laughed with great good will, and he said: \"Good\nfellows, I give you gramercy for your fair regard. Ye are indeed a merry\ncompany and were I not a knight methinks I would rather be one of your\nparty than one of any other company that ever I fell in with. But it may\nnot be, for, lo! I am a knight and I must e'en go about my business as\nbecometh one who weareth spurs of gold. So here and now we part.\nNe'theless you may haply do me one service, and that is to tell me\nwhether anywhere hereabout is to be found an adventure such as may\nbeseem a knight of good credit to undertake.\"\n\nUpon this one of those minstrels spake saying: \"Messire, I know where\nthere is an adventure, which, if you achieve it, will bring you such\ngreat credit that I believe Sir Launcelot of the Lake himself would not\nhave greater credit than you.\"\n\nAt this Sir Launcelot laughed with great good will. \"Well,\" quoth he, \"I\nwould not be overbold, yet this I may say, that anything Sir Launcelot\nof the Lake might not fear to undertake, that also I shall not fear to\nassume, and whatever he might find strength to do that also I may hope\nto accomplish. For indeed I may tell ye that I hold myself to be\naltogether as good and worthy a knight as ever is Sir Launcelot of the\nLake.\"\n\n\"Ha!\" quoth the chief minstrel, \"I perceive, Sir Knight, that thou hast\na very good opinion of thyself. Now, were Sir Launcelot here, haply thou\nwouldst not venture to reckon thyself so high as thou now dost.\"\n\nAt that all those minstrels laughed in great measure, and Sir Launcelot\nlaughed with them as loud as any. \"Good fellows,\" said he, \"I believe I\nreckon myself to be no better than another man born of woman, yet this I\nhave to say: Oftentimes have I beheld Sir Launcelot and sometimes have I\ncontended against his will, but never at any time have I found him to be\nstronger or worthier than am I myself. But let us not debate so small a\nmatter as this. Let us instead learn what is that adventure concerning\nwhich yonder good fellow hath to advise us.\"\n\n\"Messire,\" quoth the minstrel, \"have ye ever heard tell of the Worm of\nCorbin?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"but tell thou me of it.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The minstrel telleth of the Worm of Corbin._]\n\n\"Sir,\" said the minstrel, \"I will do so. You are to know that some ways\nto a considerable distance to the eastward of this place there is a very\nlarge fair noble town hight Corbin; and the King of that country is King\nPelles. Now one time it chanced that Queen Morgana le Fay and the Queen\nof North Wales were upon a visit to Corbin, and whilst they were there\nthere was given in that place a great jousting and feast in their honor.\n\n[Sidenote: _Of the damsel who came to the feast of the King._]\n\n\"Whilst King Pelles sat at table with the two queens (all of his court\nand his daughter Elaine the Fair being with him) there came into the\npavilion where the feast was held a wonderfully fair damsel, tall and\nstraight and clad from top to toe in flame-colored satin. In her hand\nshe bare a paten of silver and upon the paten was a napkin, and on the\nnapkin there was a wonderful ring of gold set with a clear blue stone.\nAnd the damsel spoke in a voice both high and clear, saying: 'Lords and\nLadies, here have I a ring that may only be worn by the fairest and\nworthiest lady in this room.'\n\n\"At these words, as you may suppose, there was a great deal of wonder\nand much expectation, and a great deal of talk. For some said that one\nlady should by rights have that ring and some said that another lady\nshould have it.\n\n[Sidenote: _Of how Queen Morgana tryeth the ring._]\n\n\"Now the first to essay that ring was Queen Morgana le Fay, for she\nsupposed that this was a masque devised by King Pelles in honor of her.\nSo she took the ring in her hand and essayed to pass it upon her finger,\nbut lo! it would not pass the first joint thereof.\n\n\"At that Queen Morgana was filled with wrath, but still she dissembled\nher anger and sat, waiting to see what would next befall.\n\n[Sidenote: _Of how the Queen of North Wales tryeth the ring._]\n\n\"So after Queen Morgana le Fay had thus failed to wear that ring, the\nQueen of North Wales said unto herself, 'Haply King Pelles may intend\nthis ring for me.' So she also took the ring and would have placed it\nupon her finger, but lo! it grew so large that it would not stay where\nit was placed, but fell off upon the table before the whole court of the\nKing.\n\n\"At this many who were there laughed aloud, and thereat the Queen of\nNorth Wales was filled with anger and mortification as much as Queen\nMorgana le Fay had been. But she also dissembled her anger before the\ncourt and sat to watch what would befall.\n\n\"So after these two queens had so essayed, several others of the ladies\nwho were there each tried to put the ring upon her finger, but no one\ncould do so, for either it was too large, or else it was too small. Then\nlast of all the Lady Elaine the Fair, the King's daughter, essayed the\nadventure of the ring, and lo! it fitted her as exactly as though it had\nbeen made for her.\n\n\"At this both of those two queens aforesaid were more angered than ever,\nfor each said to herself, 'Certes, this King hath done this to put\naffront upon us.' So that night they communed together what they should\ndo to punish King Pelles of Corbin and the Town of Corbin for that\naffront which they deemed themselves to have suffered.\n\n[Sidenote: _Of how Queen Morgana layeth a curse upon the town._]\n\n\"Now the next morning those two queens quitted the court, and as they\nand their attendants passed by the market-place of the town they\nperceived where there lay a great flat stone that marked the centre of\nthe town. Then Queen Morgana le Fay cried out: 'See ye yonder stone!\nBeneath that slab there shall breed a great Worm and that Worm shall\nbring sorrow and dole to this place ten thousand times more than the\nshame which I suffered here yesterday. For that stone shall be enchanted\nso that no man may lift it. And beneath that stone the Worm shall live;\nand ever and anon it shall come forth and seize some fair young virgin\nof this town and shall bear her away to its hiding-place and shall there\ndevour her for its food.'\n\n\"So it was as the Queen said, and now that Worm dwelleth at Corbin\nbeneath the stone, and ever bringeth sorrow and death to that place. And\nit cometh out only at night, so that the terror of the Worm of Corbin is\ngreater than it would otherwise be, for no eye hath ever beheld it in\nits comings and its goings. So if any champion shall achieve the death\nof that Worm, he shall be held to have done a deed worthy of Sir\nLauncelot of the Lake himself.\"\n\n\"Friend,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"thou sayest true and that were indeed a\nmost worthy quest for any knight to undertake. As for me, I am so eager\nto enter upon that quest that I can hardly stay my patience.\"\n\nWith this saying, Sir Launcelot rose from where he sat; and he whistled\nhis horse to him and when his horse had come to where he was he put the\nsaddle upon its back. And he took his shield and spear in his hand and\nmounted upon his charger and made him ready to leave that place.\n\nBut ere he departed, the chief minstrel and several others came to him,\nand the chief minstrel laid his hand upon the horse's neck and he said:\n\"I pray you, Messire, tell us who you are who have seen Sir Launcelot of\nthe Lake so often and who declare yourself to be as good a knight as\nhe.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot revealeth himself to the minstrels._]\n\nThen Sir Launcelot laughed and he said: \"Good friend, I am riding errant\nas you behold. In these my travels I would fain withhold my name from\nthe knowledge of men. Nevertheless, since we have eaten and drunk\ntogether, and since we have cohabited in good fellowship together, I\nwill tell you that I myself am that very Sir Launcelot whom ye appear to\nhold in such high regard. Wherefore it is that I am, certes, as good as\nhe could possibly be, let that be saying much or saying little.\"\n\nSo saying, Sir Launcelot set spurs to his horse and rode away and left\nthem astonished at his words. And long after he had left those merry\nfellows he could hear their voices in the distance babbling together\nvery loud with wonder that Sir Launcelot of the Lake had been amongst\nthem for all that time without any one of them suspecting him who he\nwas. For by this time all the world knew Sir Launcelot of the Lake to be\nthe greatest champion that ever the world had seen from the very\nbeginning unto that time.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAfter that, Sir Launcelot rode forward upon his way toward the eastward\nthrough the moonlit night, and by and by he entered a great space of\nforest land. And somewhile after he had entered that woodland the summer\nday began to dawn and all the birds began at first to chirp and then to\nsing very blithely and with a great multitude of happy voices from out\nof every leafy thicket. Then up leapt the jolly sun and touched all the\nupper leafage of the trees and turned them into gold.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot beholdeth Corbin._]\n\nAnd anon the sun rose high and higher and when it was very high in the\nheavens Sir Launcelot came out of the forest into an open country of\nlevel meadows and of pasture-lands. And in the midst of that place, a\ngreat way off, he beheld where there was a fair walled town set upon a\nhill with a smooth shining river at its foot, and he wist that this must\nbe the Town of Corbin of which the strolling minstrels had told him the\nnight before.\n\nSo Sir Launcelot rode forward and drew near the town. And as he drew\ncloser to it he thought that this was one of the fairest towns that ever\nhe had beheld in all of his life. For the castle of the town and the\nhouses of the town were all built else of stone or else of brick, and a\nthousand windows sparkled in the brightness of the day, shining like to\nstars in heaven. And the river that flowed beside the town wound down\nbetween fair green meadows which lay upon either side, and betwixt banks\nof reeds and rushes and pollard willows, and it was like to a great\nserpent of pure silver lying in the grass. The walls of the castle and\nthe walls of the town came down to the river, and stood with their feet,\nas it were, in the clear and crystal-bright water, and there were trees\nthat overhung the water upon this side and upon that, and there was a\nbridge with three arches that crossed over the river and led to the\ntown. All these things Sir Launcelot beheld and so it was that the town\nappeared exceedingly pleasant to his eyes.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot bespeaks the town's folk._]\n\nNow when Sir Launcelot had come pretty close to the town he met a party\nof town-folk with several pack-mules hung with bells and laden with\nparcels of goods. These Sir Launcelot bespoke, saying, \"I pray ye, fair\nfolk, tell me, is this the Town of Corbin?\" Thereunto they replied,\n\"Yea, Sir Knight, this is that town.\" Sir Launcelot said, \"Why are ye so\nsad and downcast?\" Whereunto the chief of that party--a right reverend\nman with a long white beard--made reply: \"Sir Knight, wherefore do you\nask us why we are sad? Whence come you that you have not heard how we\nare cursed in this town by a Worm that torments us very grievously; and\nhow is it that you have not heard tell how that Worm devoureth every now\nand then a tender virgin from our midst?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" quoth Sir Launcelot, \"I have indeed heard of this Worm that\nbringeth you so much woe and dole. Know ye that it is because of this\nvery Worm that I have come hither. For I purpose, if God's grace be with\nme, to destroy that vile thing and so to set ye all free from the curse\nthat lies upon you!\"\n\n\"Alas, Sir Knight,\" quoth the old man, speaking very sorrowfully, \"I do\nnot doubt that you are possessed of all the courage necessary for this\nundertaking, yet for all that you may not hope to succeed in your quest.\nFor even if you were able to slay the Worm, yet you could not come at\nit. For you are to know that it lyeth beneath a great stone and that the\nstone is sealed by magic which Queen Morgana le Fay set upon it so that\nno man may raise it from where it lyeth.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot speaketh words of cheer._]\n\nThen Sir Launcelot spoke words of good cheer to that old man and to his\ncompanions, saying: \"Let that be as it may, yet for all that ye need not\ndespair of succor. Know ye not that naught can be achieved until it\nfirst be essayed? As for that enchantment that lyeth upon the stone, I\ntell ye this: Behold this ring which I wear upon my finger! It is\nsovereign against all magic whatsoever, wherefore I know that the spells\nwhich bind this stone into its place cannot prevail against the counter\nmagic of this ring. So ye shall be well assured that I shall lift that\nstone, and after that, when it shall be lifted and when it shall come to\nbattle betwixt me and that Worm, then shall the issue lie altogether\nwith God, His Grace and Mercy.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _How Sir Launcelot entered Corbin._]\n\nNow when those who were there heard what Sir Launcelot said, their\nhearts were filled with hope and joy, for it seemed to them that here\nindeed might be a champion who should deliver them out of their\ndistresses. Wherefore when they heard his words they presently lifted up\ntheir voices in loud acclaim, some crying, \"God be with you!\" and some\ncrying, \"God save you from destruction!\" some crying this, and some\ncrying that.\n\nThen Sir Launcelot smiled upon them and said, \"Save you good people,\"\nand therewith set spurs to flank and rode away.\n\nBut many of those who were there went with him, running beside his\nhorse, seeking to touch him and even to touch the horse which he rode.\nAnd all the time they gave him loud acclaim without measure and without\nstint.\n\nFor the virtue of Sir Launcelot went forth from him like a shining light\nwherefore it seemed to them that here was one who should certainly free\nthem from the curse that lay upon them.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd thus it was that Sir Launcelot of the Lake rode across that\nthree-spanned bridge and into the Town of Corbin and so to his adventure\nwith the Worm of Corbin.\n\n[Illustration: Sir Launcelot slayeth the Worm of Corbin:]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Second\n\n_How Sir Launcelot slew the Worm of Corbin, and how he was carried\nthereafter to the Castle of Corbin and to King Pelles and to the Lady\nElaine the Fair._\n\n\n[Sidenote: _The folk of the town welcome Sir Launcelot._]\n\nSo thus it was that Sir Launcelot entered the town of Corbin to slay the\nDragon that lay beneath the stone. And with his coming a great multitude\ngathered very quickly, hurrying from all sides, crying out and blessing\nhim as he rode forward upon his way. And ever a great roar of voices\nsounded all about him like to the noise of many waters.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot cometh to the place of the Dragon._]\n\nSo, upborn by that multitude, Sir Launcelot went forward very\nsteadfastly toward the market-place of the town, in the midst of which\nlay that great stone, aforetold of, with the Worm beneath it. And when\nhe had reached the place, he bade the multitude abide where they were.\n\nSo, upon that command, the people stood afar off, and Sir Launcelot went\nforward alone to where was the slab of stone. And he looked down upon\nthe slab and beheld that it was very flat and wide and so big that three\nmen might hardly hope to lift it. Besides this, he beheld that it had\nbeen sealed by magic as had been reported to him, for many strange\nletters and figures had been engraved into the face of the stone.\n\nNow you are to remember that it was aforetold of in the \"Book of the\nChampions of the Round Table\" that Sir Launcelot wore upon his finger a\nring which the Lady of the Lake had given him when he quitted the Lake;\nand you all remember that that ring was of such a sort that he who wore\nit might dissolve all evil magic or enchantment against which he should\ndirect his efforts. Wherefore it was that Sir Launcelot was aware, as he\nhad already told the people outside of the walls of the town, that he\nmight lift that stone even if another, because of the magic that was\nupon it, should not be able to stir it where it lay.\n\nSo Sir Launcelot put aside his sword and his shield and he went forward\nto the slab and he seized the slab in both of his hands. And he bent his\nback and lifted, and lo! the bands of enchantment that lay upon the\nstone were snapped and the slab moved and stirred in the bed wherein it\nlay.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot lifteth the stone._]\n\nThen when the multitude of the people who gazed upon him beheld the slab\nhow it moved and stirred in its bed, a great shout went up from several\nthousand lips like to one mighty voice of outcry. Therewith Sir\nLauncelot bent again to the stone and heaved with all his might. And lo!\nhe lifted the stone and he raised it and he rolled it over upon the\nearth.\n\nThen he looked down into the hole that was beneath the stone and he was\naware that there lay something in the hole that moved. And anon he\nbeheld two green and glassy eyes that opened upon him and looked up at\nhim from out of the hole; and he beheld that those eyes were covered\nover as with a thin film to shelter them from the dazzling light of the\ndaytime. And as Sir Launcelot gazed he beheld that that thing which lay\nwithin the hole began to crawl out of the hole, and Sir Launcelot beheld\nthat it was a huge worm, covered all over with livid scales as hard as\nflint. And the Worm lifted the fore part of its body to the height of a\ntall man and gaped very dreadfully with a great mouth an ell wide, and\nall glistening with three rows of white and shining teeth. And Sir\nLauncelot beheld that the Worm had as many as a thousand feet, and that\neach foot was armed with a great claw like the claw of a lion, as hard\nas flint, and very venomous with poison. And the Worm hissed at Sir\nLauncelot. And its breath was like the odor of Death.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Worm of Corbin cometh forth._]\n\nSuch was that dreadful terrible Worm that lay beneath the stone at\nCorbin. And when the people of the town saw it thus appear before them\nin the broad light of day, they shrieked aloud with the terror of that\nwhich they beheld. For it was like to something that had come to life\nout of a dreadful dream, and it did not seem possible that such a thing\nshould ever have been beheld by the living eyes of man.\n\nBut Sir Launcelot beholding the Worm in all its terror leaped to where\nwas his sword and he seized his sword in both hands and he ran at the\nWorm and lashed at it a blow so mighty that it might easily have split\nan oak tree. But the scales of the Worm were like adamant for hardness\nwherefore the stroke of the sword pierced them not but glanced aside\nwithout harming the creature.\n\nThen when the Worm felt itself thus smitten, it hissed again in a manner\nvery terrible and loud, and it reached out toward Sir Launcelot and\nstrove to catch him into the embrace of a hundred of its sharp claws.\nBut Sir Launcelot sprang aside from the embraces of the Worm and he\nsmote it again and again, yet could not in any wise cut through the\nscales that covered its body. And at every blow the Worm hissed more\nterribly and sought to catch Sir Launcelot into its embraces.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot doeth battle with the Worm._]\n\nThus for a long time Sir Launcelot avoided the Worm, but, by and by it\ncame to pass that he began to wax faint and weary with leaping from side\nto side, weighed down as he was with his armor. So, at last, it befell\nthat the Worm catched Sir Launcelot in the hook of one of its claws, and\nthereupon they who looked on at that battle beheld how in a moment it\nhad embraced Sir Launcelot in several hundred of its claws so that his\nbody was wellnigh hidden in that embrace. And the Worm, when it so held\nSir Launcelot in its embrace, tore at him with its claws and strove to\nbite him with its shining teeth. And anon it catched its claws in the\narmor of Sir Launcelot and it tore away the epaulier upon the left side\nof Sir Launcelot's shoulder, and it tore away the iron boot that covered\nhis left thigh, and it cut with its claws through the flesh of the left\nshoulder of Sir Launcelot and through the flesh of his thigh to the very\nbone, so that the blood gushed out in a crimson stream and ran down over\nhis armor and over the claws of the Worm.\n\nThen Sir Launcelot, finding himself as it were thus in the very embrace\nof Death, put forth all his strength and tore away free from the\nclutches of the Worm ere it was able to do him further harm. And seeing\nhow that the case was now so ill with him, he catched the haft of his\nsword in both of his hands, and he rushed at the creature and he stabbed\nwith his sword into the gaping mouth of the creature and down into its\ngullet so that the cross-piece of the sword smote against the teeth of\nthe creature's mouth.\n\nThen when the Worm felt that dreadful terrible stroke driven thus into\nits very vitals, it roared like a bull in its torments, and it\nstraightway rolled over upon the ground writhing and lashing the entire\nlength of its body, bellowing so that those who heard it felt the marrow\nin their bones melt for terror.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot slayeth the Worm._]\n\nBut Sir Launcelot, looking down upon the lashings of the Worm, beheld\nwhere there appeared to be a soft place nigh to the belly and beneath\nthe scales of the back and sides, and therewith he rushed at the Worm\nand plunged his sword twice and thrice into that soft spot, whereupon,\nlo! thick blood, as black as ink, gushed forth after those strokes. Then\nagain Sir Launcelot pierced the Worm twice and thrice in such another\nplace and thereafter it presently ceased to bellow in that wise and lay\nshuddering and writhing in death, rustling its dry scales upon the earth\nin its last throes of life.\n\nThen Sir Launcelot beheld that his work was done and he stood leaning\nupon his sword, panting and covered all over with the blood and slime of\nthat dreadful battle. And the people beholding how that the Worm was now\nslain, fell to shouting aloud beyond measure. And they came running from\nall sides to that place like to a flood so that they filled the entire\nmarket-place. And they crowded around and gazed upon the Worm with\nhorror, and they gazed upon Sir Launcelot in wonder that Heaven should\nhave sent so wonderful a Champion to save them out of their distresses.\nAnd ever Sir Launcelot stood there leaning upon his sword panting and\nwith the blood flowing down from his shoulder and his thigh so that all\nthat side of his body was ensanguined with shining red.\n\n[Sidenote: _The knights of Corbin do honor to Sir Launcelot._]\n\nSo as he stood there, there came a party of knights riding into that\nplace. These thrust their way through the multitude to where Sir\nLauncelot was in the midst of the crowd as aforesaid. When they had come\nto Sir Launcelot the chief of those knights said, \"Sir, art thou he who\nhath slain the Worm?\" Sir Launcelot said, \"Thou seest that I am he.\"\nThen he who spoke to Sir Launcelot said, \"Messire, I fear me you are\nsorely hurt in this battle.\" Quoth Sir Launcelot: \"I am hurt indeed, but\nnot more hurt than I have been several times before and yet live as you\nbehold me.\"\n\nThen those knights went and looked upon the Worm where it lay and they\ngazed upon it with wonder and with loathing. And they gave great praise\nbeyond measure to the knight who had slain it.\n\nAfter that they sent for a litter and they laid Sir Launcelot upon the\nlitter and bare him away into the Castle of Corbin where King Pelles of\nCorbin was then holding his court in royal pomp of circumstance. And\nthey brought Sir Launcelot to a fair chamber of the castle where a\nnumber of attendants came to him and eased him of his armor and led him\nto a bath of tepid water steeped with healing herbs. And there came a\nskilful leech and searched the wounds of Sir Launcelot and spread\nsoothing unguents upon them and bound them up with swathings of linen.\nAnd after that they bare Sir Launcelot to a fair soft couch spread with\nsnow-white linen and laid him thereon, and he was greatly at ease and\nmuch comforted in body.\n\n[Sidenote: _King Pelles of Corbin doeth honor to Sir Launcelot._]\n\nThen after all this was done in that wise, there came King Pelles of\nCorbin to that place for to visit Sir Launcelot, and with him came his\nson, Sir Lavaine, and his daughter, the Lady Elaine the Fair. And Sir\nLauncelot beheld that King Pelles was a very noble haughty lord, for his\nbeard and his hair were long and amplelike to the mane of a lion, and\nresembled threads of gold sprinkled with threads of silver. And he was\nclad all in a robe of purple studded over with shining jewels and he\nwore a fillet of gold about his head set with several gems of great\nprice. Upon the right hand of King Pelles there came his son, Sir\nLavaine--a very noble young knight, newly created by the bath--and upon\nhis left hand there came his daughter, the Lady Elaine the Fair.\n\n[Sidenote: _Of the Lady Elaine the Fair._]\n\nThen Sir Launcelot looked upon the Lady Elaine the Fair and it seemed to\nhim that she was the most beautiful maiden that ever he had beheld in\nall of his life. For he saw that her hair was soft and yellow and\nshining like to the finest silk; that her eyebrows were curved and very\nfine, as though they had been marked with a sharp and delicate pencil;\nthat her eyes were very large and perfectly blue and very lustrous, and\nas bright as precious jewels; that her forehead was like cream for\nwhiteness; that her cheeks were like roses for softness of blush; that\nher lips were like coral for redness, and that betwixt her lips her\nteeth were white, like to pearls for whiteness.\n\nSuch was the Lady Elaine, as Sir Launcelot beheld her, and he was amazed\nat her surpassing beauty, and at the tender grace of her virgin youth.\n\nThen King Pelles and Sir Lavaine and the Fair Elaine came close to where\nSir Launcelot lay upon his couch, and there they kneeled them down upon\nthe ground. And King Pelles spake, saying: \"Messire, what thanks shall\nwe find fit to give to you who have freed this entire land from the\ndreadful curse that lay upon it?\" \"Lord,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"thank not\nme but give your thanks to God whose tool and instrument I was in this\nundertaking.\" \"Messire,\" quoth King Pelles, \"I have not forgot to give\nthanks to God. Nevertheless seeing the instrument which He hath fitted\nto His hand is so perfect an instrument, one may praise that also. So we\ndo praise you and give thanks from our heart to you for the deliverance\nwhich you have brought to us. Now I pray you tell me who you are who\nhave brought this great succor to our state, for methinks you must be\nsome famous hero, and I would fain thank you in your own name for what\nyou have done to benefit us.\"\n\n\"Lord,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"this you must forgive me if I tell you not\nmy name. For there is supposed to be shame upon my name, wherefore I am\nnow known as le Chevalier Malfait, because in the eyes of those to whom\nI am accountable I have done amiss.\"\n\n\"Well,\" quoth King Pelles, \"I dare be sworn you have not at any time\ndone greatly amiss in that which you have done. Nevertheless an you will\nhave it so, so it shall be as you will, and with us all of this place\nyou shall be known as le Chevalier Malfait until such time as it\npleases you to assume your proper name and title.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot lyeth sick in Corbin._ ]\n\nThus I have told you all the circumstances of that famous adventure of\nthe Worm of Corbin and there remaineth now only this to say: That Sir\nLauncelot did not recover from his hurt as soon as he had supposed he\nwould. For the venom of the Dragon had got into his blood, wherefore\neven after a twelvemonth had gone by, he still remained in the castle of\nKing Pelles at Corbin, albeit he was by that time quite healed in his\nbody.\n\nAnd also there is this to tell--that at the end of the twelvemonth\naforesaid, King Pelles came to Sir Launcelot and said to him: \"Messire,\nI would that you would henceforth dwell with us at this court. For not\nonly would you be a great credit to any court in which you live, but\nhere we all love you as one loveth the apple of his eye.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot remaineth at Corbin._]\n\n\"Lord,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"ye cannot love me more than I love ye all\nwho have been so good to me in the days of my sickness and disease. So I\nwill be exceedingly rejoiced to remain with ye yet a while longer; for\nthis is indeed a pleasant haven in which to rest in the long and\ntoilsome journey of life, and I have nowhere else to go.\"\n\nThen King Pelles took Sir Launcelot into his arms and kissed him upon\nthe brow and so they became plighted in friendship unto one another.\n\nSo Sir Launcelot remained at Corbin and went not any farther errant at\nthat time.\n\nBut meantime, and for all that while, there was great wonder at the\ncourt of King Arthur whither Sir Launcelot had gone and what had become\nof him that no one in all of the world heard tell aught of him.\n\n[Illustration: Sir Launcelot confideth his Shield to Elaine the Fair]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Third\n\n_How King Arthur proclaimed a tournament at Astolat, and how King Pelles\nof Corbin went with his court thither to that place. Also how Sir\nLauncelot and Sir Lavaine had encounter with two knights in the highway\nthitherward._\n\n\n[Sidenote: _King Arthur proclaimeth a tournament._]\n\nNow it fell upon a time that King Arthur proclaimed a great tournament\nto be held at Astolat, upon Lady's Day Assumption. And the King sent\nword of this tournament throughout all the land, both east and west and\nnorth and south. So it came about that word of the tournament was\nbrought one day by herald to King Pelles at Corbin, and when this news\ncame to him he ordained that his court should make them ready to go to\nAstolat to that passage of arms, in pursuance of the word that the\nherald of King Arthur had brought to Corbin.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot is troubled._]\n\nThen Sir Launcelot was much troubled in his mind for he said to himself,\n\"I fear me that if I go unto Astolat with this court there may be some\none there who will know me.\" For Sir Launcelot was still very bitterly\naffronted at his kinsmen because that they had chid him so greatly for\nthe manner in which he had ridden in a cart upon that adventure to\nrescue Queen Guinevere as aforetold of. For the pride of Sir Launcelot\nwas stiff and stubborn and he could not bring himself to bend it or to\nbreak it. Neither could he bring himself to overlook such an affront as\nthat which he had suffered from the words that Sir Lionel and Sir Ector\nde Marishad said to him. Wherefore, until full justification had been\nrendered unto him, he was unwilling that any of his former companions\nshould behold him or know him who he was.\n\nYet did he not see how he could refuse to obey the behest of King\nPelles, for as he was now become a knight of the court of the King of\nCorbin he was bound to obey whatsoever that King should command him to\ndo. Wherefore he wist not what to do in this case, and so was much\ntroubled in mind.\n\n[Sidenote: _King Pelles talketh with Sir Launcelot._]\n\nNow King Pelles was aware how it was with le Chevalier Malfait and that\nhe was unwilling to go to the tournament at Astolat. So one day the King\ntook Sir Launcelot aside and he said to him: \"Messire, will you not also\ngo with our court to this tournament that King Arthur hath proclaimed?\"\n\nTo this Sir Launcelot said, \"Lord, I would rather that I did not go.\"\n\nKing Pelles said: \"Sir Knight, far be it from me to urge you to go if it\nbe greatly against your wishes; yet you are to know that it will be a\nvery sad thing for all of us if you do not go with us. For it is the\ntruth that you are, beyond all others, the foremost of our court, and\nits most bright and shining light; wherefore it will be sad for us if we\ngo thither without you.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot looked very steadfastly at King Pelles and his heart\nwent out toward the King and he said, \"Do you then desire my company so\nvery greatly?\" King Pelles said, \"Yea.\" \"Well,\" said Sir Launcelot, \"let\nit be so and I will go with you.\" And at that saying King Pelles was\nglad beyond measure.\n\nSo when the time came Sir Launcelot made him ready to go with the others\nto Astolat, and when the day of departure arrived he went with them.\n\n[Sidenote: _King Pelles and his court journey to Astolat._]\n\nThereafter they travelled by easy stages toward Astolat, and upon the\nthird day after their departure from Corbin they came to the castle of a\ncertain Earl, which castle stood about three leagues or a little more\nfrom the town. This Earl was a kinsman of King Pelles and in great amity\nwith him, wherefore he was glad to have the King and his court to lodge\nwith him at that time. And they of Corbin were also glad, for this was a\nvery noble excellent place in which to lodge and all the other castles\nand inns nigh to Astolat were at that time very full of folk.\n\nSo it came about that King Pelles and his court remained several days at\nthat place, and in all that time Sir Launcelot kept himself ever in\nretreat, lest some one with whom he was acquainted should chance to see\nhim and know him who he was. To this end, and that he might conceal\nhimself, Sir Launcelot was most often with the court of the Lady Elaine\nthe Fair and not often with the court of the King.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine and Sir Launcelot talk together._]\n\nNow the Lady Elaine was not very well pleased with this, for she held\nSir Launcelot in great admiration above all other men, and she would\nfain have had him stand forth with the other knights who were there, so\nthat his nobility might be manifested amongst them. So one day whilst\nthey two sat together in the garden of the castle of that Earl (the\ncourt of the Lady Elaine and several lords of the King's court being\nnear by playing at ball) the Lady Elaine spake her mind to Sir Launcelot\nupon this point saying: \"Fair Sir, will you not take part in this noble\nand knightly tournament the day after to-morrow?\"\n\nTo this Sir Launcelot replied, \"Nay, Lady.\"\n\nShe said to him: \"Why will you not so, Messire? Methinks with your\nprowess you might win yourself very great credit thereat.\"\n\nThen for a little Sir Launcelot was silent, and after a little he said\nto her: \"Lady, do you disremember that I call myself le Chevalier\nMalfait? That name I have assumed because my friends and my kinsmen deem\nthat I have done amiss in a certain thing. Now, since they are of that\nopinion I am very greatly displeased with them, and would fain avoid\nthem until I am justified in their sight. At this tournament there will\nbe many of those who knew me aforetime and I would fain avoid them if I\nam able to do so. Wherefore it is that I am disinclined to take part in\nthe battle which the King hath ordained.\"\n\nAfter this they were silent for a little, and then by and by the Lady\nElaine said: \"Sir Knight Malfait, I would I knew who you really are and\nwho are your fellows of whom you speak.\" At that Sir Launcelot smiled\nand said: \"Lady, I may not tell you at this present who I am nor who\nthey are, but only that they are very good worthy knights and\ngentlemen.\" \"Aye,\" quoth the Lady Elaine, \"that I may very well\nbelieve.\"\n\nSo at that time no more was said concerning this matter but ever the\nmind of the Lady Elaine rested upon that thing--to wit, that Sir\nLauncelot should take part in that tournament aforesaid. So at another\ntime when they were alone together, she said: \"Sir Knight Malfait, I\nwould that thou wouldst do me a great favor.\" Sir Launcelot said: \"Lady,\nask whatsoever thou wilt, and if it is in my power to do that thing, and\nif it is according to the honor of my knighthood, then I shall assuredly\ndo whatsoever thou dost ask of me.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" quoth the Lady Elaine, \"this is what I would fain ask of thee if\nI might have it. It is that thou wouldst suffer me to purvey thee a suit\nof strange armor so that thy friends might not know thee therein, and\nthat thou wouldst go to the tournament disguised in that wise. And I\nwould that thou wouldst wear my favor at that tournament so that I might\nhave glory in that battle because of thee.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot will take part in the tournament._]\n\nThen Sir Launcelot sighed very deeply, and he looked steadfastly at the\nLady Elaine, and he said: \"Lady, you know not how great a thing it is\nyou ask of my pride, for I would fain remain unknown as I am at this\npresent. And you know not what it is you ask of my knighthood, for wit\nye it must be against my one-time friends and companions-in-arms that\nyou would have me contend. So it is that if I should have success in\nsuch an affair as this, whatsoever credit I should win therein shall\nbring discredit unto them. Moreover, I must tell you that never in all\nof my life have I worn the favor of any lady, having vowed my knighthood\nto one who is a queen and the wife of a king. Natheless, though all this\nis so, yet far be it from me to refuse a boon when it is you who ask it\nof me. For I speak the truth, Lady, when I say that I would freely lay\ndown my life at your bidding. So in this case, maugre all that I have\nsaid, I will even do as you ask me, wherefore, if you will purvey me\nthat armor of which you speak, I will do your will in all ways that I am\nable.\"\n\nSo spake Sir Launcelot, and thereat the Lady Elaine smiled upon him in\nsuch wise and with such great loving-kindness that it was as though both\nher joy and her great love stood revealed in the midst of that smile.\nQuoth she: \"Assuredly I shall gain great honor and glory at thy hands.\nFor I believe that thou art indeed one of the very greatest and foremost\nknights in all of the world, as well as the perfect peer of all noble\ngentlemen.\"\n\nNow the Earl, the lord of that castle, had a son hight Sir Tyre, who was\nthen lying abed, ill of a flux, and the armor of Sir Tyre was at that\nplace. So the Lady Elaine went to the Earl and she besought him to lend\nher that armor for the use of Sir Launcelot, and the Earl listened to\nher and gave it to her.\n\nSo she had the armor of Sir Tyre brought to Sir Launcelot and thus the\nLady Elaine purveyed him in all wise for that tournament so that no one\nmight know him who he was.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine giveth her sleeve to Sir Launcelot._]\n\nThen, after all this had been accomplished, the Lady Elaine came to the\nchamber where Sir Launcelot was, and her brother Sir Lavaine was with\nher. And the Lady bore in her hand a sleeve of flame-colored satin very\nrichly bedight with many pearls of great price. And she said to Sir\nLauncelot: \"I beseech you to take this sleeve, Sir Knight, and I beseech\nyou that you wear it as a favor for my sake.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot smiled very kindly upon the Lady Elaine and he said,\n\"Will this give you pleasure?\" and she said, \"Yea.\" Then Sir Launcelot\nsmiled again and he said, \"It shall be in all things as you will have\nit.\" So he took the sleeve, and he wound it about the crest of the\nhelmet he was to wear at the tournament, and the sleeve formed a wreath\nof satin about the helmet like to a wreath of fire. And the pearls upon\nthe wreath were like to drops of dew as you behold them of an early\nmorning. Wherefore because of the brightness of that wreath and because\nof the pearls upon it, the favor of the Lady Elaine was of such a sort\nthat all the world could not but see it what it was. And so Sir\nLauncelot accepted the favor of the Lady Elaine the Fair.\n\nThen after Sir Launcelot had thus accepted that favor, Sir Lavaine spake\nand said: \"Sir Knight Malfait, I beseech you that you will take me with\nyou unto this tournament as your knight-companion. For I believe that in\nyour company I shall assuredly gain me great honor and much glory and\nrenown, wherefore I ask of you that you will grant me this great\ncourtesy.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot accepteth Sir Lavaine as his companion._]\n\nThen Sir Launcelot looked upon Sir Lavaine and smiled upon him and loved\nhim exceedingly, and he said to Sir Lavaine: \"Friend, I will gladly\naccept thee as my companion-in-arms, and I believe in very sooth that it\nwould be hard for me to find any one whom I would be better pleased to\nhave with me at such a time.\" And so it was that Sir Lavaine also had\nhis will with Sir Launcelot.\n\nThen Sir Launcelot turned him to the Lady Elaine and said, \"Lady, see\nyou this shield and this armor of mine?\" And she said, \"Yea, I see\nthem.\"\n\nSir Launcelot said: \"Lady, this shield is a very precious thing to me,\nfor it and all mine armor was given to me by a very wonderful lady who\nis not of this world in which we mortals dwell. Since that time she gave\nmine armor to me I have sought ever and in all wise to use those\ndefences as became a gentleman so that whatever mark of battle there\nshould be upon them there should be no mark of dishonor to mar their\nbrightness. Now I beseech you for to take this shield and that armor to\nyour maiden bower and to hold them there in trust for me and that as\nsacredly as though they were your very life.\" Therewith Sir Launcelot\ngave the Lady Elaine his shield and he said: \"I charge you, Lady, for to\nlet no one touch this shield or to meddle with it until I return hither\nto reclaim it and mine armor of you.\" And the Lady Elaine said: \"It\nshall be as you say, and I shall hold this shield and this armor as\nsacred as my life.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine depart for Astolat._]\n\nSo these matters were all brought to settlement and the next day Sir\nLauncelot in the armor of Sir Tyre, and Sir Lavaine in his own armor,\nrode out from the castle of that Earl and away from that place and so\nbetook their way toward Astolat.\n\nNow it chanced that same day that two very worthy knights of King\nArthur's court were upon that road on which Sir Launcelot and Sir\nLavaine travelled to Astolat, and these two knights were Sir Gawaine and\nSir Mador de la Porte. With these were several lords who paid homage and\nrespect to them, and all that party stood beneath the shade of several\ntrees nigh to a water-mill where it was very cool and pleasant. And some\nof those who were there sat upon their horses, and some had dismounted\ntherefrom and were lying in the cool and pleasant grass beneath the\nshade.\n\nThen Sir Gawaine perceived where Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine came\nriding and he said to those who were with him: \"Behold yonder two\nknights coming hitherward. Now I am of a mind that Sir Mador de la Porte\nand I shall try a fall with them, so stand ye by and see what\nhappeneth.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine and Sir Mador bespeak Sir Launcelot and Sir\nLavaine._]\n\nSo Sir Gawaine and Sir Mador took horse and rode a little forward and\nmet the two and saluted them very courteously, and Sir Launcelot and Sir\nLavaine saluted those others in like manner. Then Sir Gawaine said:\n\"Messires, I pray ye tell me who ye are and whither ye go upon this\npass.\"\n\nNow Sir Launcelot knew very well who those two knights were because of\nthe devices upon their shields. Wherefore he changed his voice a little\nwhen he answered Sir Gawaine so that Sir Gawaine should not know him.\nAnd he said: \"Messire, I know not by what right ye demand such knowledge\nof us, nevertheless I may tell you that I am called le Chevalier\nMalfait, and this, my comrade, is hight Sir Lavaine of Corbin. As for\nour journey and its purpose, I may furthermore tell you that we intend,\nGod willing, to enter the tournament at Astolat to-morrow, in which\nfriendly battle you also, doubtless, intend to take a part.\"\n\nThen Sir Gawaine said: \"Tell me, Sir Knight Malfait, will you and your\ncompanion try a fall with me and my companions-in-arms?\"\n\nNow Sir Launcelot had no very great relish for such an encounter as that\nfor he feared by some hap he should betray himself who he was. Yet he\nwist that he must accept the challenge of Sir Gawaine, wherefore after a\nlittle while of silence he said: \"Sir Knight, we two would fain go our\nway in peace, but an it cannot be otherwise we must needs accept your\nchallenge. But will you not let be and suffer us to pass onward?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"this is a strange thing that you should\npretend to aspire to that tournament of to-morrow and yet have no heart\nto meet in friendly tilt two knights whom you encounter upon the way.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" quoth Sir Launcelot, \"we fear you not in any wise, wherefore,\nmake yourselves ready in God's name, and we upon our side will do our\nendeavor.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The four knights run a tilt._]\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine is overthrown._]\n\nSo Sir Gawaine and Sir Mador de la Porte made themselves ready as Sir\nLauncelot had advised, and when they were in all ways prepared they\nwithdrew to a little distance so as to have a good course to run. Then\nwhen all were ready for that encounter, each knight shouted and set\nspurs to his horse, and all four thundered together with such violence\nthat the ground trembled beneath them. So they met in the middle of the\ncourse and so furious was the meeting of those four good knights that\nyou might have heard the roar of that encounter for half a mile away or\nmore. In that encounter both Sir Lavaine and Sir Mador broke each his\nspear upon his enemy and neither of them suffered a fall. But Sir\nGawaine had no such fortune for his spear broke into splinters unto the\nvery truncheon thereof, and the spear of Sir Launcelot held, so that Sir\nGawaine was lifted out from his saddle and flung upon the ground with\nsuch violence that he rolled thrice or four times over and over before\nhe ceased to fall.\n\nNow those who looked upon that encounter were well assured that Sir\nGawaine would easily overthrow his opponent into the dust, for Sir\nGawaine was held to be one of the very greatest knights in all of the\nworld. Wherefore it was that when they beheld how violently he had been\nflung to earth by that unknown knight against whom he had tilted, they\nwere astonished beyond all bounds of wonderment.\n\nBut Sir Mador de la Porte, when he beheld how Sir Gawaine lay there in\nthe dust as though dead, voided his horse and ran to the fallen knight\nwhere he lay. And he raised the umbril of Sir Gawaine's helmet, and lo!\nthe face of Sir Gawaine was like to the face of one who was dead. And at\nfirst Sir Mador thought that he was dead, but after a while Sir Gawaine\nsighed and then sighed again, and thereupon Sir Mador knew that he was\nnot dead, but in a swoon from the violence of the fall. And Sir Mador\nrejoiced very greatly that no more ill had come of that encounter.\n\nThen Sir Mador turned to Sir Launcelot, and cried out: \"Sir Knight\nMalfait, go thy way in the fiend's name. For indeed thou art well named\nMalfait, seeing what an evil thing it is that thou hast done to this\nworshipful knight. For wit you that this is none other than Sir Gawaine,\nthe nephew of King Arthur himself, whom you have overthrown; and had you\nslain him, as at first I believed you had, it would have been a very ill\nthing for you. Moreover, you are to know that this knight was to have\nbeen the leader of all those upon King Arthur's side in the battle\nto-morrow-day, but now God knows if he will be able to wear armor again\nfor many days to come. Wherefore go thy way and trouble us no more.\"\n\nQuoth Sir Launcelot: \"Well, Sir Knight, this quarrel was altogether of\nyour own seeking, and not of ours. Wherefore, if ill hath befallen this\nworshipful knight, it is of his own devising and not of mine.\"\n\nBut Sir Mador only cried out the more vehemently: \"Go your way! Go your\nway, and leave us in peace!\" And thereupon Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine\ndrew their bridle reins and set heel to horse and rode away from that\nplace, leaving Sir Mador and those others who were there to cherish Sir\nGawaine and to revive him from his swoon as best they might.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Bernard of Astolat followeth Sir Launcelot and Sir\nLavaine._]\n\nNow there was among those knights who were with Sir Gawaine and Sir\nMador a certain old and very worthy knight of Astolat, hight Sir\nBernard, surnamed of Astolat. Seeing Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine\ndeparting in that wise, Sir Bernard hied him after them and when he had\ncome up with them he saluted them, and said, \"Messires, I pray ye tell\nme where it is ye lodge this night.\"\n\nSir Launcelot said: \"Fair Sir, we know not where we lodge for we go to\nseek such lodging as we may find in Astolat.\"\n\nSir Bernard said: \"You will find no lodging in Astolat this night, for\nall places are full. Now I pray ye that you will lodge with me, for I\nhave a very good and comely house and I shall be greatly honored for to\nhave you lodge with me. For I make my vow, Sir Knight Malfait, that\nnever saw I such a buffet as that which you gave to Sir Gawaine anon.\nNor do I believe that ever Sir Launcelot of the Lake himself could have\ndone more doughtily than you did in that encounter. Wherefore, I think\nthat you will win you great glory to-morrow-day, and that I shall have\ndue worship if so be that ye two shall have lodged with me over this\nnight.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot laughed, and he said to Sir Bernard: \"Well, Sir\nKnight, I give you gramercy for your courtesy, and so we will gladly\ntake up our inn with you until the time of the tournament. Only this I\ndemand, that we shall be privily lodged apart from any one else, for we\nwish it that we shall not be known until to-morrow and after this\ntournament shall have transpired.\"\n\n\"Messire,\" quoth Sir Bernard, \"it shall all be as you desire.\"\n\nSo those three rode on their way together until they had come to Astolat\nand to the habitation of Sir Bernard of Astolat.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot lodgeth with Sir Bernard._]\n\n[Sidenote: _King Arthur knoweth Sir Launcelot._]\n\nNow the habitation of Sir Bernard was a very fair house over against the\ncastle of Astolat where King Arthur and his court had taken up their\ninn. And there was a high terraced garden belonging to the castle of\nAstolat, and the garden overlooked the garden of the house of Sir\nBernard. That day it chanced that King Arthur was walking back and forth\nin that terraced garden where the air blew cool over the plats of\nflowers and grass. As the King so walked he chanced to look down over\nthe edge of the terrace into the garden of Sir Bernard's house, and at\nthat time Sir Launcelot was walking privily in the garden for to refresh\nhimself, and no one was with him. At that time Sir Launcelot had laid\naside his armor for the sake of coolness and was walking in light\nraiment and bareheaded to the air, wherefore it befell that King Arthur\nimmediately knew him who he was.\n\nThen the King was much astonished to see Sir Launcelot in that place,\nand he said to himself, \"What does Sir Launcelot here?\" And at first the\nKing was of a mind to send word to Sir Launcelot, bidding him to come to\nwhere he was. But afterward he bethought him that mayhap Sir Launcelot\nwould be displeased at being thus summoned to declare himself. For the\nKing perceived that Sir Launcelot did not choose to be known to any one\nat that time. So King Arthur said to himself: \"Well, let be! To-morrow,\nI dare say, Sir Launcelot will declare himself in such a wise as shall\nastonish a great many knights who shall do battle against him upon\nyonder meadow-of-battle. Wherefore, let him e'en declare himself in his\nown fashion.\"\n\nThus it was that King Arthur communed within himself. Wherefore he did\nnot betray the presence of Sir Launcelot to anybody at that time, but\nkept that matter shut in his own bosom.\n\nNevertheless, when he had come again to where was his court, he said to\nthe knights there assembled: \"Messires, I have this day beheld a certain\nknight who hath come hither who will I believe play his play with the\nbest of you all at the jousts to-morrow.\" The knights who were there\nsaid to the King: \"We pray you, Lord, tell us who that knight is, so\nthat we may pay him such regard as he is worthy of.\" \"Nay,\" quoth King\nArthur, \"I will not tell you at this time who is that knight, but haply\nyou will know to-morrow who he is.\"\n\nThen one of the knights who was there said: \"Mayhap that was the knight\nwho overthrew Sir Gawaine this day in the highroad over against the town\na little distance away. He calleth himself le Chevalier Malfait, and\nhath for his companion a youthful knight hight Sir Lavaine, the King's\nson of Corbin.\"\n\nThen King Arthur laughed, and said, \"Like enough that was he.\" And so\nthe King departed into his lodging, leaving all those knights much\nwondering who that knight could be of whom the King spoke to them.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThus it was that Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine came to Astolat, and now\nfolloweth the history of that famous bout at arms so far as it affected\nSir Launcelot of the Lake and his companion-at-arms, Sir Lavaine of\nCorbin. For in that affair at arms, as you shall presently hear tell,\nSir Lavaine gained him such great glory and renown that thereafter he\nwas regarded as one of the great heroes of chivalry, and by and by\nreceived that crowning honor of becoming a knight-companion of the Round\nTable.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine overlook the Field of\nAstolat:]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Fourth\n\n_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine fought in the tournament at Astolat.\nHow Sir Launcelot was wounded in that affair, and how Sir Lavaine\nbrought him unto a place of safety._\n\n\n[Sidenote: _Of the lists at Astolat._]\n\nSo it is true that in these days one may not hope ever to behold a sight\nlike to the field-of-battle at Astolat upon Lady's Day Assumption, when\nthat tournament proclaimed by King Arthur was about to be fought before\nthe eyes of the King. For upon that morning--which was wonderfully\nbright and clear and warm--the entire green meadow was altogether\ncovered over with a moving throng of people of all degrees--lords and\nladies, knights and dames, esquires, burghers, yeomen and\ntradesfolk--all moving, each toward some stand from whence he might view\nthe battle that was about to take place. And here were gay attires and\nbright colors and the fluttering of silk and the flash and sparkle of\nshining baubles, and because of the sheen and sparkle of all these the\nwhole world appeared to be quick with life and motion.\n\nYet ever by little and little this confusion of many people pushing\nthemselves hither and thither resolved itself to order as one by one\nthat multitude took seat and brought itself to quietness. And so it came\nto pass at last that the field prepared for battle was cleared of all\nsave a few who lingered and whom the guardians of the lists pushed back\ninto their places.\n\n[Sidenote: _The knights-contestant enter the field-of-battle._]\n\nThen, all being thus brought to order, the Marshal of the Tourney blew\nhis trumpet, and straightway there entered upon this side of that wide\nmeadow and upon that side thereof the two companies of knights who were\nto contend the one against the other.\n\nThen, lo! how the sunlight flashed upon shining armor! How it catched\nthe pens and bannerets so that they twinkled at tips of lances like to\nsparks of fire! How war-horses neighed for love of battle! How armor\nclashed and shield plates rang as those goodly companies of knights\nbrought themselves by degrees into array for battle!\n\nUpon the one end of the meadow there gathered the knights-champion who\nwere of the party of King Arthur, and the chiefs of that party were the\nKing of Scots and the King of Ireland, and with them were many knights\nof the Round Table, much renowned both in song and battle. And the\nnumber of knights of that company were two hundred and ten in all.\n\n[Sidenote: _Of the two parties-contestant._]\n\nUpon the other end of the meadow of battle there assembled the party of\nthose who were to withstand the party of King Arthur; and the chiefs of\nthat company were the King of North Wales and the King of an Hundred\nKnights, and the King of Northumberland and Galahaut the High Prince.\nAnd though there were no knights of the Round Table in that company, yet\nthere were many champions of very great renown and high credit in courts\nof chivalry. And the number of that party were two hundred thirty and\ntwo.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine overlook the field of\nAstolat._]\n\nNow near to a certain part of the field-of-battle the trees of the\nforest came down close to the meadow, and made, as it were, a green wall\nof foliage circumjacent to that part of the field. Here, beneath the\nshade of the green trees of the forest where it was cool and shady and\nvery still, Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine had taken stand at a certain\nplace whence they could look out upon those two parties of knights there\ngathered in battle array. And, that while, the eyes of Sir Lavaine shone\nlike sparks of light and his cheeks were flaming red, like as though\nthey were on fire, and his breath was thick and stifled when he breathed\nit. For this was the first great battle in which he had ever taken a\npart and he wist not what was to befall him in that affair at arms.\n\nBut that same while Sir Launcelot neither moved nor spake but sat his\nhorse like to a statue made of iron; calm and steadfast and gazing very\nsteadily out upon that plain before him.\n\nThen Sir Lavaine spake in a voice wonderfully high and clear. \"Messire,\"\nsaid he, \"upon what side do you will that we take part in this battle?\"\n\nQuoth Sir Launcelot: \"To neither party do I yet will that we shall join\nus. Rather let us wait a while and observe the issue of this battle, and\nwhen we behold that one side is about to lose in the battle then will we\njoin with that side. For if so be we aid to bring victory out of defeat\nfor that party, then shall our credit and our glory be magnified in that\nsame degree.\" And Sir Lavaine said, \"Sir, thou speakest with great\nwisdom.\"\n\nThen, as those two watched in that wise, they beheld that three\nknights-champion came forth from one side and that three champions came\nforth from the other side and they wist that these six champions were to\nengage man to man and so to test the strength of this side and of that\nere the two arrays should join in battle-royal. And Sir Launcelot knew\nthese six champions very well and he declared to Sir Lavaine who they\nwere. To wit, he declared that the champions upon King Arthur's side\nwere the King of Scots and the King of Ireland and Sir Palamydes, and\nthat the knights of the other party were the King of Northumberland, and\nthe King of an Hundred Knights, and Galahaut the High Prince.\n\n[Sidenote: _How the battle openeth._]\n\nThen, even as Sir Launcelot was telling Sir Lavaine who were these six\nchampions who thus stood forth to undertake battle against one another,\nthe herald blew his trumpet very loud and shrill. And therewith, in an\ninstant of time, each knight had set spurs to his horse, and each horse\nleaped forward from his station and rushed forward, and so they came,\nthree knights against three, like to thunderbolts launched against one\nanother. So they met together in the midst of the course with a crash of\nsplintering wood and a roar of armor that might easily have been heard a\nmile away. In that meeting Sir Palamydes and Sir Galahaut the High\nPrince smote down one another into the dust. And the King of an Hundred\nKnights smote down King Angus of Ireland with such terrible violence\nthat he lay like dead upon the ground and had to be borne away out of\nthe field by his esquires and could not again do battle that day. As to\nthe King of Northumberland and the King of Scots, they broke each his\nlance upon the other without suffering a fall. So that first encounter\nwas somewhat to the advantage of the party against King Arthur.\n\n[Sidenote: _Of the grand assault at arms._]\n\nThen all who beheld that noble encounter of knight against knight\nshouted aloud in acclaim, and the shout of that vast acclaim was like\nthe multitudinous roaring of a strong wind in the forest. Thereupon in\nthe midst of all that roaring the herald blew his trump again and\ntherewith the two parties contestant rushed the one upon the other, the\nearth shaking and trembling beneath that charge like to an earthquake.\nSo in another moment they met together in such an uproar of iron and\ncracking of splintered wood that the ears of those who heard that\nmeeting were stunned with the crash thereof. Then all the air was full\nof dust and splinters of wood and scraps and shreds of silk and of\nplumes. Anon, out of a thick red cloud of dust there arose the roar of a\nmighty battle; the shouts of men, the neighing of horses, the crash of\nblows and the groans of those who fell. At times, some knight would\ncome forth out of the press reeling in the saddle and all red from some\nwound he had got. At other times, a party of esquires would run into\nthat cloud, presently to come forth again bearing with them a wounded\nknight whom they had rescued. At other parts of the field there were\nknights armed with spears who ran tilt against one another, and ever and\nanon a knight would be flung from the saddle or else horse and knight\nwould roll together upon the earth all in a smother of dust.\n\nSo for a while the battle was toward and yet no one could see how it\nwent. For what with all that dust and the contending of single\nchampions, no one could tell whether it inclined to this side or to\nthat.\n\nBut after a while the dust lifted a little, and those who contended\nbecame fewer upon one side than upon the other and so stinted the\nfierceness of their battle.\n\nThen it was that those who looked down upon that battle beheld that the\nparty of King Arthur was pushing their opponents back, little by little,\ntoward the barriers upon their side of the field (and if so be they were\npushed altogether against that barrier then was their battle lost for\ngood).\n\nThen Sir Launcelot said to Sir Lavaine: \"Behold yonder company of noble\nknights, how that they hold together and stand against their enemies in\nspite of that defeat which must certainly fall upon them in the end.\"\n\n\"I see it,\" said Sir Lavaine, \"and have great pity for them.\"\n\n\"Hast thou so?\" said Sir Launcelot. \"Then let us take side with that\nside which is so sore bestead, for I believe that if you will help me a\nlittle we may well aid them and maybe stay the ill-fortune that seems\nlike to overwhelm them.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" quoth Sir Lavaine, \"spare not, and I upon my side will do the\nbest that I am able for to help you.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine take part in the battle._]\n\nSo with that Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine rode out from the forest\nwherein they had sheltered themselves, and they set their spears in rest\nand they drove forward to where those knights were doing combat. And\nthey drove faster and faster forward until they drove full tilt into the\nthickest of the press.\n\nThe history of these things saith that in this charge and in other\ncharges that he made in that onset, Sir Launcelot smote down Sir\nBrandiles, and Sir Sagramore, and Sir Dodinas, and Sir Kay, and Sir\nGriflet, and the history saith that he smote down all those good knights\nof the Round Table with one spear ere that spear burst asunder. And the\nsame history saith that Sir Lavaine smote down Sir Lucian the botteler\nand Sir Bedivere with one spear in that charge and that then that spear\nalso was burst into pieces. And the history saith that Sir Launcelot got\nhim another spear and that Sir Lavaine did likewise and that thereafter\nthey two charged again as they had done before. And it saith that in\nthis second assault Sir Launcelot smote down Sir Agravaine, and Sir\nGaheris and Sir Modred and Sir Melyot of Logres, and that Sir Lavaine\nsmote down Sir Hozanna le Cure Hardy, and that after that those second\nspears were burst in assault as the first had been.\n\nThen Sir Lavaine withdrew a little to get another spear, but by that\ntime the madness of battle was upon Sir Launcelot so that he drew his\nsword and he ran into the thickest of the press and smote upon the right\nhand and the left hand with all his might and main so that in a\nwonderfully short pass he had smitten down Sir Safir and Sir Epynogris\nand Sir Galleron. And so terrible were the buffets he gave that all who\nwere nigh to him drew away from him from fear of the terrible blows\nwhich he bestowed upon whomsoever came within his reach.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine taketh joy in the battle._]\n\nBy now all who looked upon that field were aware of how terrible a\nbattle it was that the knight of the red sleeve fought against his\nenemies, wherefore they shouted aloud with a great voice of outcry and\nloud acclaim. And the Lady Elaine the Fair beheld how her champion did\nbattle, and seeing him she could not contain the passion of her joy, but\nlaughed and wept and trembled for that joy. And she catched King Pelles\never by the arm and cried out to him, \"Lord! Lord! see what our champion\ndoeth and what my brother doeth!\" and King Pelles said, \"I see! I see!\"\nand held tight hold of the rail of the dais before him.\n\nThen King Arthur where he sat said to those about him: \"Behold yonder\nchampion, what battle it is he doeth. Saw ye ever a better battle than\nthat?\" And they say, \"Nay, never so great a battle!\"\n\nBut when Sir Gawaine beheld the flame-colored sleeve that the champion\nwore about his helmet, he said to King Arthur, \"Yonder knight is he who\ncast me down yesterday into the dust of the highway over against the\ntown,\" and Sir Gawaine said, \"because of that and because of the battle\nhe now doeth, I would deem yonder knight to be none other than Sir\nLauncelot of the Lake. And yet it cannot be Sir Launcelot, for this\nknight weareth the sleeve of some lady as a favor upon his helmet, and\nall the world knoweth that Sir Launcelot would never wear the favor of\nany lady in such a wise as that.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Of the pause in battle._]\n\nMeantime the battle was stayed for a little while, for at that time it\nseemed as though neither horse nor man could do any more for that\nwhile. Yet though the battle was stayed, nevertheless each knight braced\nhimself for a greater battle than that which had gone before. For all\nknew that now indeed the time had come when either one party or the\nother must win that battle. So in that pause of battle Sir Launcelot and\nSir Lavaine each chose him a good strong new spear of ash wood, and each\ndrank a cup of lusty spiced wine for to refresh his strength.\n\nAnd, ere they began to battle afresh, Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Ector de\nMaris and Sir Lionel upon the other side called together such kindred of\ntheir blood as were upon that field: to wit, Sir Blamor de Ganis, Sir\nBleoberis and Sir Aliduke, Sir Galihadan, and Sir Bellanger--all these\nknights being of Sir Launcelot's kin. These say to one another: \"If we\ndo not overthrow yonder single knight who fights so wonderfully against\nus we shall certes lose this battle. For never knight fought so unless\nit was Sir Launcelot. For lo! he himself is the single bulwark against\nus in this battle.\"\n\nSo it was that these kinsmen of Sir Launcelot ordained it that they\nshould join themselves together for to overthrow that knight by main\nstrength if need be.\n\n[Sidenote: _His kinsmen take battle against Sir Launcelot._]\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot is wounded._]\n\nThen anon the battle was called again and anon each side hurled itself\nagainst the other side, well knowing that at this time it must be else\nto conquer or else to lose. And in that charge the kinsmen of Sir\nLauncelot hurled themselves against that knight of the red sleeve and\nagainst those who were by him. And Sir Bors and Sir Ector and Sir Lionel\ndrave three at once at Sir Launcelot and he drave against them--one\nagainst three. But so heavy was the might of the assault of those three,\nthat they overthrew the horse of Sir Launcelot by the weight of their\nthree horses so that the horse of Sir Launcelot and Sir Launcelot\nhimself were cast down upon the earth beneath the feet of the horses of\nthose who charged against him. And in that charge the spear of Sir Bors\nsmote Sir Launcelot in the side, and the point of the spear burst\nthrough the armor of Sir Launcelot and pierced deep into his side.\nTherewith the head of the spear brake from the truncheon and remained\nthrust deep into the side of Sir Launcelot, and Sir Launcelot groaned\naloud, deeming that he had got his death wound.\n\nSo Sir Launcelot lay upon the ground and could not rise and he would\nmaybe have been beaten to death beneath the feet of the horses. But Sir\nLavaine beheld how it was with him, whereat he shouted aloud with a\ngreat voice and he and all that party rushed to the aid of Sir\nLauncelot. And Sir Lavaine smote down the King of Scots at one blow\nfrom out of his saddle. And he turned the horse of the King of Scots to\nwhere Sir Launcelot lay. And he stood above Sir Launcelot and defended\nhim against the assault of all those others who were around about, and\nso, maugre their vehement assaults, he brought Sir Launcelot to horse\nagain.\n\nThen Sir Launcelot was clean wode because of the passion of agony he\nsuffered from that grievous wound he had got. Wherefore he drew his\nsword and he stood up in his stirrups and he smote right and left like a\nmadman. And he smote down one after the other Sir Lionel and Sir Bors de\nGanis, and he smote Sir Bleoberis such a buffet that he fell down to the\nearth in a swoon as if he had been dead. And in that time Sir Lavaine\nsmote down Sir Bellanger, and two other knights of worship and renown.\nThen Sir Launcelot turned him about and smote Sir Blamor down from off\nhis horse and with that Sir Ector made at him. But Sir Launcelot was\nblind with his passion of battle and of pain, and he wist not who that\nwas who came against him. Wherefore he turned upon Sir Ector and he\nsmote him so dreadful terrible a buffet, that the head of Sir Ector hung\ndown low upon the neck of his horse. Then Sir Launcelot catched Sir\nEctor and rushed off the helm from the head of Sir Ector with intent to\nslay him, for at that time he was so mad that he wist not where he was\nor what he did.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot spareth Sir Ector._]\n\nThen he beheld the face of his brother Sir Ector, and he beheld that\nface all white and wan from the blow he himself had struck, and he\nbeheld his brother's cheeks all white and streaked with blood, and\ntherewith his senses returned to him, and in that instant he wist where\nhe was and what he did. Thereupon he cried out in a great and terrible\nvoice: \"Woe! Woe! Woe is me! what is it that I do!\" And therewith he\nrushed away from that place where Sir Ector was, and he rushed into the\nthickest of the press, striking right and left like a madman in fury.\n\nAnd it stands recorded that all in all in that battle Sir Launcelot\nstruck down thirty knights with his own hand, and that sixteen of those\nthirty were knights of the Round Table. And it is recorded that Sir\nLavaine struck down fourteen knights and that six of those knights were\nknights of the Round Table. And it was because of Sir Launcelot and Sir\nLavaine that their party prevailed in that battle. For, because\nbeholding how they fought, their party took great heart and added\nstrength to strength and so drave their enemies back across the\nmeadow-of-battle until they were pushed back against the barriers of\ntheir side of the meadow and so the battle was won.\n\nAnd thus that was achieved that else had been lost had not Sir\nLauncelot and Sir Lavaine lent their aid to that party with whom they\njoined in battle against the party of King Arthur.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBut Sir Launcelot sat wounded nigh to death. Yea, he deemed that the\nsickness and the sweat of death was even then upon him, for an exceeding\nfaintness overclouded his spirit. To him where he sat came the King of\nNorth Wales and the King of Northumberland and the King of an Hundred\nKnights and these say to him: \"Sir, may God bless you, for without your\naid, and that of your companion this day had certes been lost to us.\"\nAnd then they said: \"Now we pray you that you will come with us to King\nArthur so that you may receive at his hands the prize you have so\nworshipfully deserved.\" Thus they spake very cheerfully, for not one of\nthose worthies knew that Sir Launcelot had been so sorely wounded in the\nbattle he had fought.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot would fain depart._]\n\nThen Sir Launcelot spake in a very weak voice, so that it sounded like\nto one speaking from a very great distance away. And he said: \"Fair\nlords, if I have won credit in this I have paid a fair price for it, for\nI am sore hurt and wist not what to do. Now this I pray of you that you\nwill suffer me to depart from this place, for I am in great pain and\nwould fain go away from here to somewhere I may have aid and comforts.\"\n\nThen those three kings would have had him go to a fair pavilion for to\nhave his wound searched and dressed, but ever he besought them to suffer\nhim to depart. So they suffered him, and he rode very slowly away from\nthat place, and Sir Lavaine rode with him.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo it was that Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine did battle at that famous\ntournament at Astolat as I have told you.\n\nAnd now if you would know how it fared with Sir Launcelot after he rode\naway from that place, wounded as aforesaid, you shall immediately hear\nof it in that which followeth.\n\n[Illustration: Sir Gawaine knoweth the shield of Sir Launcelot]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Fifth\n\n_How Sir Launcelot escaped wounded into the forest, and how Sir Gawaine\ndiscovered to the court of King Pelles who was le Chevalier Malfait._\n\n\nSo Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine rode away from that field of battle.\nAnd they rode together into the forest, and all that while Sir Launcelot\ncontained his suffering to himself so that Sir Lavaine wist not how\ngrievous was his wound nor how great was the passion of agony that he\nthen endured because of that hurt. But after they had ridden a mile or\ntwo or three into the woodland, Sir Launcelot could no longer thus\ncontain himself, wherefore he let droop his head very low and he groaned\nwith great dolor. Then Sir Lavaine was aware that some grievous hurt\nmust have befallen Sir Launcelot. Wherefore he cried out: \"Messire, I\nfear me ye are sore hurt. Now tell me, I beseech you, how is it with\nyou?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot declareth his wound._]\n\nThen Sir Launcelot groaned again and he said: \"Woe is me! I suffer much\npain.\" And therewith he made to dismount from his horse and would have\nfallen had not Sir Lavaine catched him and upheld him. After that Sir\nLavaine aided Sir Launcelot down from his horse, and Sir Launcelot\nleaned against a tree of the forest, groaning as from the bottom of his\nsoul, and Sir Lavaine wist not what to do to help him. Then Sir\nLauncelot turned his eyes, all faint and dim, upon Sir Lavaine, and he\nsaid: \"Oh, gentle knight, Sir Lavaine, for the mercy of God I beseech\nyou to pluck forth the blade of a spear that has pierced into my side,\nfor I suffer a great pang of torment.\"\n\nThen Sir Lavaine was aware of what sort was that wound and he made haste\nto strip off the body armor from Sir Launcelot. So, when that body armor\nwas thus removed, Sir Lavaine beheld a grievous wound where the blade of\nthe spear had pierced deep into the side of Sir Launcelot a little above\nthe midriff. And Sir Lavaine perceived that the blade of the spear was\nyet in the wound and that the hurt was very deep. So beholding that\nwound Sir Lavaine wept, and cried out: \"Dear my Lord! Woe is me! I dare\nnot pull out that blade; for an I do so, I dread me sore that you will\ndie here in the forest ere aid can be brought to you and so it shall be\nI who killed you.\"\n\n\"No matter,\" said Sir Launcelot, speaking very faint and with failing\nbreath. \"Do as I bid you, for the point of that blade lieth near to my\nheart and I suffer a great deal of pain from it.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Lavaine draweth for the steel._]\n\nThen Sir Lavaine laid hold of the shaft of the spear, and he strove to\ndraw forth the blade from out Sir Launcelot's side, yet he could not do\nso. And thereupon Sir Launcelot cried aloud in a very piercing voice,\n\"Spare not! Spare not! but pull forth that steel!\" So with that Sir\nLavaine plucked again with all his might and he drew the steel forth\nfrom out of the wound. And as the blade came forth from out of the\nflesh, Sir Launcelot cried out again in a voice very loud and shrill,\nsaying, \"God! God! that this should be!\" And with that a great issue of\nblood gushed out of the wound like a crimson fountain and Sir Launcelot\nsank down upon the ground in a swoon that was like the swoon of death.\n\nThen Sir Lavaine believed that he had assuredly slain Sir Launcelot,\nwherefore he wept aloud with a great passion of grief, smiting his hands\ntogether and crying, \"Woe is me! For I have slain my dear lord!\"\nThereupon he kneeled down beside Sir Launcelot and fell to feeling his\nheart. And he perceived that the heart still beat but very faintly, and\nso he wist that Sir Launcelot was not dead but only in a deadly swoon.\n\nSo Sir Lavaine turned Sir Launcelot where that the wind blew upon him\nand after a while Sir Launcelot opened his eyes again. Then with his\nsight all swimming he beheld Sir Lavaine kneeling beside him weeping,\nand he said, speaking in a voice very weak and faint, \"Lavaine, am I yet\nalive?\" And Sir Lavaine said, \"Yea, Lord.\" Sir Launcelot said, \"Then\nbear me away from this place.\" And Sir Lavaine said, \"Whither shall I\ntake you?\" Sir Launcelot said: \"Listen, Friend, bear me away into the\nforest to the westward of here. For after a while to the westward of\nthis place you shall find a forest path that runs across your way. And\nyou shall take that path toward the right hand and so you will come\nafter another while to the hut of an hermit of the forest. Bring me to\nthat holy man; for if any one can cure me of this hurt he alone can do\nso.\" Sir Lavaine said: \"Lord, how shall I take you such a journey as\nthat, so that you shall not die?\" Sir Launcelot replied: \"I know not how\nyou shall take me, but this I know: that if you take me not to that\nplace I shall certes die here before your eyes in this forest.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Lavaine beareth Sir Launcelot thence._]\n\nSo Sir Lavaine, weeping, made a litter of straight young trees and he\nlaid his cloak upon the litter and he bound the litter to the horses.\nThen he lifted Sir Launcelot and laid him upon the litter as though it\nwere a little child whom he laid there. Thereafter he took the foremost\nhorse by the bridle, and so, led away into the forest whither Sir\nLauncelot had bidden him to go.\n\nSo in that wise they travelled in the forest for a great while and by\nand by night descended and the full moon arose all white and shining\ninto the sky. And it rose ever higher and higher and it shone down upon\nthe forest woodlands so that here it was all bright and there it was all\nagloom with shadow; and anon Sir Lavaine, as he led the horses in that\nwise, would walk in that silver silent light and anon he would be lost\nin those shadows. And all that while Sir Launcelot lay so still that\nseveral times Sir Lavaine thought haply he was dead. Then he would say,\n\"Sir, art thou dead?\" And ever Sir Launcelot would answer, \"Not yet.\"\n\nThus they travelled for a great while in that still forest (all so\nsilent and wonderful) and beneath the clear pale moonlight that caused\neverything to appear like to an enchantment of stillness. So, somewhat\nafter the middle watch of the night, Sir Lavaine beheld before him a\nlittle chapel built up against the rocks of a cliff of stone and beneath\nthe black and umbrageous foliage of a large oak tree. And the moonlight\nshone down past the oak tree and bathed all the front of that little\nchapel with pure white silvery light, so still and silent that the\nchapel appeared as in a strange and singular picture as it were seen in\na dream.\n\n[Sidenote: _They come to the forest chapel._]\n\nThither Sir Lavaine led the horses bearing between them the wounded\nknight, whose face, as white as the moon above, was turned upward\nagainst the sky. And when Sir Lavaine had come to the door of the chapel\nhe smote upon it with the butt of his lance; and he smote again, and\ntherewith the door was opened and there appeared in the doorway the\nfigure of an aged man with a long white beard like to snow for\nwhiteness. And that man was the hermit of the forest afore spoken of\nseveral times in these histories.\n\nThen when that reverend hermit beheld where Sir Launcelot lay in the\nlitter, so sorely wounded, he came to him and felt of his heart. So,\nperceiving him to be alive, he aided Sir Lavaine to lift the wounded man\nfrom the litter and to bear him into the hut and to lay him upon a soft\nand fragrant couch of leaves and moss.\n\nAt that time Sir Launcelot was in a deep swoon like as though he were\ndead; yet he was not dead, for after the hermit had bathed his face with\nstrong wine, and after he had set pungent herbs to his nostrils, by and\nby Sir Launcelot revived so as to sigh very deep and to open his eyes.\nAnd Sir Launcelot said, \"Where am I? Am I still alive?\" The hermit said,\n\"Yea, Messire.\" Sir Launcelot said, \"I wist that maybe I was dead.\"\n\nThen the hermit searched Sir Launcelot's wound and bathed it and put\nunguents upon it and bound it about with bandages of linen and so Sir\nLauncelot was put at ease. And after that Sir Launcelot fell into a deep\nsleep so still and profound that it was like to the slumber of a little\nchild.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow whilst Sir Launcelot thus slept, Sir Lavaine and the hermit walked\nin the moonlight upon a little lawn of grass before the door of the\nhermitage. By and by the hermit said to Sir Lavaine: \"Sir Knight, know\nyou who yonder knight is whom you brought hither to-night?\" and Sir\nLavaine said, \"Nay, I know not, save that he calleth himself le\nChevalier Malfait.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The hermit declareth Sir Launcelot's name._]\n\n\"Well,\" quoth the hermit, \"God knows that all we who live upon His earth\nmay easily do ill in His sight; yet I dare to say that that yonder\nknight hath done as little ill as any of us. Sir, you must know that he\nis none other than Sir Launcelot of the Lake.\"\n\nAt this Sir Lavaine cried out aloud in great wonder, saying: \"What is it\nthat you tell me! Lo! This knight hath dwelt at the court of my father,\nKing Pelles of Corbin, for more than a year yet no one there wist that\nit was Sir Launcelot of the Lake whom we entertained in our midst.\"\n\n\"And yet,\" quoth the hermit, \"that wounded man is none other than he.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Sidenote: _King Arthur sits at feast._]\n\nNow that same night whilst Sir Launcelot lay thus wounded in the\nhermit's cell in the forest, a great feast was held at Astolat in the\npresence of King Arthur. There were set fourteen tables in the great\nhall of the castle of Astolat, and at those tables there sat down seven\nhundred in all of the lords and knights and ladies of that land--kings,\nearls, dukes, barons, knights, and esquires with their dames--fifty at\neach table.\n\nThen King Arthur looked all about but he beheld no sign of Sir\nLauncelot, wherefore he said to the King of North Wales who sat nigh to\nhim: \"Where is that worthy knight who was with you to-day--he who wore\nabout his helmet a flame-colored sleeve embroidered with fair pearls of\nprice?\" To this the King of North Wales replied: \"Lord, we know not\nwhere that worshipful champion now is. For although we besought him to\ncome hither with us, and although we besought him to come to you so\nthat you might award unto him the prize of battle, yet he would not. For\nhe proclaimed himself to be wounded and craved our leave to withdraw\nhimself--wherefore we gave him that leave and he hied him away and we\nknow not whither he hath gone.\"\n\n\"Now I am right sorry for that,\" quoth King Arthur, \"for I would rather\nhave that knight to feast with us than any one of all those who wear\nspurs in this hall. And I am still more sorry to hear that so worshipful\na champion as that should have met with mishap in this battle of to-day.\nYet do I hope that wound which he suffered is not so sore but that he\nwill soon be well again.\"\n\n\"Lord,\" quoth the King of North Wales, \"mefeareth that that noble\nknight, whomsoever he may be, hath been very grievously hurt; for when\nhe spake to us his voice was passing weak and he appeared to suffer a\ngreat deal of pain.\"\n\nThen King Arthur was much grieved at what he heard and he said: \"That is\nsad news for me, for rather would I lose half of my kingdom than that\ndeath should befall that noble champion.\" So said King Arthur, yet he\nwould not say who was that champion of the red sleeve, for he perceived\nthat Sir Launcelot would fain conceal his name, wherefore neither would\nhe betray it.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine grieveth._]\n\nNow King Pelles sat not far from King Arthur's high seat at the table,\nand the Lady Elaine the Fair sat with him and several lords of their\ncourt were there also. These heard what was said between King Arthur and\nthe King of North Wales, and when the Lady Elaine the Fair heard how\nthat her champion was so sorely wounded that he was like to die, it was\nas though a sword of terror had been thrust into her bosom; for hearing\nthose words she turned all as white as ashes and sank back into her\nchair as though she would swoon.\n\nSeeing her thus, all white and stricken, King Pelles said, \"Daughter,\nwhat ails thee?\" and she said: \"My father, did you not hear how that the\nChevalier Malfait hath been sorely wounded and mayhap may be even now\nlying nigh to death?\" \"Yea, I did hear that,\" said King Pelles, \"but\nsuch is the chance of battle that every good knight is called upon to\nface.\" Then the Lady Elaine cried out: \"Father! Father! I am sorely\nafraid that great ill hath befallen that noble knight. Now I pray thee,\nlet us go hence.\" King Pelles said, \"Whither shall we go?\" She said:\n\"Haply, my brother, Sir Lavaine, will bring him to the castle of the\nearl our kinsman, wherefore I pray you, sir, let us make haste thither\nand see if that be so.\" And King Pelles said, \"It shall be as you will\nhave it.\"\n\nSo King Pelles besought leave of King Arthur to quit that feast, and\nKing Arthur gave him leave and King Pelles withdrew with the Lady Elaine\nand all of his court from that company.\n\nYet when they returned to the castle of the earl, Sir Launcelot was not\nthere, for, as hath been told, he lay at that time in the hermit's cell\nin the forest with his soul hanging in the scales betwixt life and\ndeath.\n\n[Sidenote: _King Arthur speaketh to Sir Gawaine._]\n\nBut King Arthur ever bore in mind how it was Sir Launcelot had been\nwounded, wherefore, when that feast was over, he took Sir Gawaine aside,\nand he said to him: \"Sir, I would that you would seek out that knight of\nthe red sleeve where he is and bring him aid and succor.\" Sir Gawaine\nsaid: \"Lord, I pray you tell me; know you who is that knight? Methinks\nhe should be Sir Launcelot of the Lake, for I know of no other than he\nwho could do so nobly in battle as that champion did to-day. And yet, he\ncannot be Sir Launcelot, for you wist very well that Sir Launcelot would\nnot wear the favor of any lady in such a wise as he wore the sleeve\nabout his helm to-day. So I know not who that knight can be.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said King Arthur, \"when you have succored him then you will know\nwho he is.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine departs in search of Sir Launcelot._]\n\nSo Sir Gawaine withdrew from the court to seek that wounded champion.\nAnd he remembered him that the knight had called himself le Chevalier\nMalfait and that his companion-in-arms was Sir Lavaine, the son of King\nPelles of Corbin. So Sir Gawaine went to where were a number of knights\nwho knew of King Pelles, and he asked of these and of several others:\n\"Know ye, Messires, where I shall find King Pelles of Corbin?\" They say\nto him, \"King Pelles is lodging at such and such a place.\" So Sir\nGawaine took horse and rode forth to the castle of the earl with whom\nKing Pelles had taken up his lodging, and King Pelles and his court were\nstill at that place. Then Sir Gawaine made demand to have speech with\nKing Pelles and therewith he was brought before the King where he was.\nAnd the Lady Elaine the Fair was with King Pelles at that time, and Sir\nGawaine, when he beheld her, was amazed at her beauty.\n\nThen Sir Gawaine said to King Pelles: \"Fair Lord, can you tell me where\nI shall find that wounded knight who called himself le Chevalier\nMalfait?\" King Pelles said, \"Alas! I know not where he is.\" Sir Gawaine\nsaid, \"Lord, I pray you tell me who he is and what is his name.\" To this\nKing Pelles made reply: \"Messire, I know not who that knight is saving\nonly that he came to us somewhat more than a year ago and that he slew\nthe great Dragon of Corbin; and that he was sorely wounded in his\nencounter with the Dragon. Since that he hath abided at our court but\nnever have we known him by any other name than le Chevalier Malfait.\"\n\nThen Sir Gawaine said: \"Now I pray you tell me who was the lady who gave\nher sleeve as a favor unto that knight, for no doubt she may know who he\nis.\"\n\nThen the Lady Elaine said: \"Messire, it was I who gave my sleeve to him,\nyet neither do I know who he is nor whence he came.\"\n\nSir Gawaine said: \"Have you naught that you may know him by?\" Whereunto\nthe Lady Elaine made reply: \"Sir, by leave of our cousin, the earl of\nthis castle, I purveyed armor in which le Chavalier Malfait might do\nbattle in this tournament. Now when he quitted us he confided his armor\nand his shield to me that I might hold them in safe keeping for him\nuntil his return hither. Perhaps you can tell from his shield who is\nthat worshipful knight.\"\n\nSir Gawaine said: \"I prithee, fair lady, tell me what device was painted\nupon the shield?\" And the Lady Elaine said: \"I know not what was that\ndevice for the shield was all encased in leather laced upon it and\npainted white so that no one might see the device which it beareth.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine knoweth Sir Launcelot's shield._]\n\nThen Sir Gawaine said, \"Let me see that shield.\" And thereupon the Lady\nElaine sent her attendants to fetch the shield and they brought it to\nher where they were. Then Sir Gawaine unlaced the leather from the\nshield and drew the shield forth from its case, and lo! the shield shone\nall dazzling bright, like to the sun in his glory. And Sir Gawaine\nbeheld the device upon the shield that it was a knight kneeling to a\nlady upon a field of silver, and by that he knew (and several others who\nwere there knew) that it was the shield of Sir Launcelot. Thereupon Sir\nGawaine turned him to the Lady Elaine the Fair and he said: \"Lady, it is\nno wonder that this knight who hath worn thy favor should have done so\nwell in battle yesterday. For wit ye that this is the shield of Sir\nLauncelot of the Lake and wit ye that it is to none other than he to\nwhom you gave your sleeve. So I wish you much joy of that great honor\nthat hath come to you through him; for you are to know that never hath\nit ever been heard tell of before this that Sir Launcelot hath worn the\nfavor of any lady when he hath gone to battle.\"\n\nBut as for the Lady Elaine, when she knew that it was Sir Launcelot of\nthe Lake to whom she had given her sleeve, she was filled full of a\ngreat joy and also with a sort of terror. For she had much joy that she\nshould have been so wonderfully honored by that noble knight Sir\nLauncelot of the Lake, and yet when she bethought herself how she had\nset her regard upon him who regarded no lady in the light of love she\nwas filled with a sort of terror because she forecast that nothing but\nsorrow could come to her who had placed her heart and all her happiness\nin the keeping of this knight, who had no heart or happiness to bestow\nupon any lady in return.\n\nBut King Pelles was unaware of what thoughts lay within the heart of his\ndaughter. His spirit was greatly uplifted with the thought that Sir\nLauncelot should have been a knight of his court for so long a while and\nhe said: \"Messire, this is a very wonderful thing that you tell us, for\nwho would have thought that he was Sir Launcelot who has been with us\nall this time? Now I know not any glory that could come to us that\nshould be greater than that; to wit, to have had that noble, worthy, and\nglorious champion for to serve as a knight of our court. For now,\nbecause of him, this court hath become famous for all time, that\notherwise would not have been known very far or for a very long while.\"\n\n\"Lord,\" said Sir Gawaine, \"I do indeed give you great joy of this honor\nthat you have had through him; for I must tell you that yours is the\nonly court in all the world in which Sir Launcelot has ever served as\nchampion, saving only in the Court of King Arthur. Wherefore this is a\nvery singular honor that hath been visited upon you.\"\n\nSo spake King Pelles and so spake Sir Gawaine; but all that while the\nLady Elaine the Fair sat in silence saying naught to any one for her\nsoul was so deeply disturbed with joy and pride that Sir Launcelot\nshould have been her champion, and with fear and anxiety upon behalf of\nher knight--that she wist not very well what was being done or said by\nany of those who sat around about her.\n\nThat night Sir Gawaine abided at the Court of Corbin, and there was a\ngreat feast prepared for his entertainment and all honor and regard was\npaid to him that was possible to pay any man, even were that man a king.\nAnd at that feast Sir Gawaine sat at the right hand of King Pelles and\nthe Lady Elaine sat upon the left hand of the King. And Sir Gawaine and\nthe King talked a very great deal together, yet ever the Lady Elaine sat\nwrapped in silence, very distraught, passing by her food without tasting\nof it. For always her thoughts dwelt upon Sir Launcelot as aforesaid,\nand ever her heart was filled with anxiety as to what had befallen him\nand where he was, and how it fared with him and who was cherishing him\nin his sickness and his pain. Yea, even, she wondered whether he was\nliving or whether he was dead. Wherefore it was she knew not what passed\nabout her, but sat silent with her spirit remote and afar off from all\nthose who made merry and laughed and talked and jested so nigh to her.\n\nFor the soul in such times of trouble and anxiety is oftentimes very\nsolitary and silent; ever wrapped in its own broody thoughts like to a\nspirit wrapped in a cloud of darkness that shutteth out from its sight\nall the bright world of gayety and rejoicing that lieth around about it.\nAnd so it was with the Lady Elaine at this season.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow, when the morning had come, Sir Gawaine departed from that place to\nreturn to the King's court which was still at Astolat, there to bring\nthem news that it was Sir Launcelot who had fought in that battle and\nthat it was he who had been wounded.\n\n[Sidenote: _Queen Guinevere is angered._]\n\nBut when that news came to Queen Guinevere she was filled full of a\ngreat passion of anger and of indignation against Sir Launcelot and\nagainst the Lady Elaine. For it is to be remembered that Sir Launcelot\nhad vowed his vows of service unto Queen Guinevere, and she upon her\npart had accepted those vows and acknowledged him as her\nknight-champion. Wherefore it was that finding he had worn the favor of\nanother lady in that wise, she was filled with a most consuming passion\nof anger. At first she would not believe that it was true that Sir\nLauncelot had worn the sleeve, and when she was convinced that it was\ntrue she withdrew herself from the sight of all, and went and locked\nherself into her chamber--and how it was with her in that place no one\ncould tell.\n\n[Sidenote: _Queen Guinevere bespeaketh Sir Bors._]\n\nThen, after a while, she sent for Sir Bors de Ganis, who was the nighest\nof kin to Sir Launcelot of all those then at court. And the Queen said\nto Sir Bors: \"What is this your kinsman hath done, Messire? He hath\nforsworn himself and is shamed of his knighthood in my sight and in the\nsight of all. For who ever heard of any knight of worship who would\nswear his faith to one lady and yet wear the favor of another? So I say\nthis knight is forsworn and is no true knight.\"\n\nQuoth Sir Bors: \"Lady, there is no man in all the world who would dare\nto say to me that Sir Launcelot is shamed of his knighthood, but you may\nsay that because you are a lady. Now I pray you tell me why should not\nSir Launcelot wear the favor of so kind and so beautiful a lady as that\nof the Lady Elaine, the King's daughter of Corbin? Such service cannot\ninjure you, who have always to your service so high and noble a knight\nas King Arthur himself!\"\n\nSo spake Sir Bors very sternly, and therewith Queen Guinevere's cheeks\nflamed like fire and she stamped her foot upon the ground in wrath and\ncried out in a very loud voice: \"Do you dare to speak thus to me who am\nyour Queen? I say this unworthy knight is forsworn in that he sware his\nfaith to me, and that he came not to me to relieve him of that vow ere\nhe accepted the favor of another lady. Now I bid you go, find Sir\nLauncelot and bring him straightway hither that he may answer me to my\nface and that he may clear himself if he is able of that unknightly\nfaithlessness.\"\n\nThen Sir Bors was filled with indignation against the Queen and at the\nsame time he was filled with great pity for her. For many things came\ninto his mind at that time, wherefore he did not choose to look into the\nQueen's face, but only bowed low before her and said: \"Lady, it shall be\nas you command. I shall straightway go seek my kinsman and will bring\nyour commands to him that he shall come and present himself before you.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Bors departeth in search of Sir Launcelot._]\n\nSo forthwith Sir Bors departed from the court to seek Sir Launcelot. But\nafter he had left her the Queen went into her privy closet and fast\nlocked herself in. And she wept amain; and as she wept she communed in\nsolitude with her soul, saying: \"My soul! My soul! Is it anger thou\nfeelest or is it aught else than anger?\"\n\n[Illustration: Sir Launcelot leapeth from the window:]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Sixth\n\n_How the Lady Elaine went to seek Sir Launcelot and how Sir Launcelot\nafterwards returned to the court of King Arthur._\n\n\nNow ever the Lady Elaine the Fair, as aforesaid, took great grief beyond\nall measure concerning the fate of Sir Launcelot. For he lay wounded she\nknew not where and she knew not whether he were healing or dying. So\nupon a day she came to her father, King Pelles, where he was, and she\nhad been weeping a great deal--yea, even whilst she spoke to her father\nshe began weeping afresh. So, still weeping, she said: \"Sire, I pray\nthee let me go and seek for this noble champion, Sir Launcelot of the\nLake, where he lieth wounded, for mefeareth he hath been so grievously\nhurt that he may even now be upon the edge of death.\"\n\nThen King Pelles said: \"My daughter, what is this thou wouldst do?\nWouldst thou, a young damsel, go thyself errant in search of this\nwounded knight?\" and the Lady Elaine said, \"Yea.\" The King, her father\nsaid, \"This may not be.\" Then the Lady Elaine wept all the more and with\nsuch passion that it was as though her heart would break. And therewith\nshe kneeled down before her father and cried most vehemently: \"Sire, let\nme go! Else I believe I shall become distracted with my fears lest he be\ndying of his wounds.\"\n\nThen King Pelles was very sorry for the Lady Elaine and he lifted her up\nand embraced her in his arms and kissed her upon the face. And King\nPelles sought to comfort her, wiping away the tears from her face. And\nhe said, \"My daughter, weep not so.\" She said, \"Lord, I cannot help it.\"\nThen he said: \"My daughter, weep no more, for it shall be as thou\nwouldst have it. Go now in God's name upon this quest, if so be it will\nease thy heart to do so, and I will send safe escort with thee.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine departeth in search of Sir Launcelot._]\n\nSo it was that the Lady Elaine the Fair went upon that quest in search\nof Sir Launcelot, and her father purveyed for her such an escort as he\nhad said. For he sent with her a company of seven worthy and noble\nknights with their esquires and attendants; and seven damsels of her\ncourt also went with her. These betook their way to Astolat, for it\nseemed to the Lady Elaine that there they might best hope to have news\nof the wounded knight. And when they had come to Astolat she took up her\ninn at that place, and sent forth several to make diligent inquiry if\nany news might be heard of the wounded knight.\n\nSo those whom she sent made inquiry upon all sides, and upon a certain\nday, they found a woodchopper who had come out of the forest with a cart\nload of wooden fagots. This woodman brought news of Sir Launcelot and of\nSir Lavaine; for he declared that he had seen them when they had entered\nthe forest after the tournament. So her agents brought the woodchopper\nto where the Lady Elaine was, and she said to him, \"What knowest thou,\ngood fellow?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The woodman telleth of Sir Launcelot._]\n\nTo this the woodman made reply: \"Lady, I will tell you all. One day\nwhiles I was in the forest I heard the sound of voices talking together,\nand greatly wondering what those voices were, I made my way privily to\nthat place where I heard them speaking. There I beheld a half-armed\nknight who lay upon the ground all bathed in his own blood, and another\nknight, armed at all points, stood beside this knight, and the hands of\nthe second knight were all red with blood. So methought that the armed\nknight had haply slain his fellow there in the woodlands in foul wise,\nfor so it appeared to be. So whilst I stood there I heard that knight\nwho lay on the ground complaining very grievously that he was hurt nigh\nto death, and I heard him entreat that knight who was armed that he\nshould bear him to the westward and so by a forest path to the cabin of\na certain hermit that dwelleth in those parts. Therewith I went away\nfrom that place as privily as I had come thither, for methought that\nmaybe some ill deed had been done at that place and that so I should be\npunished if I meddled in it; wherefore I went away and left those two\nknights in that wise.\"\n\nThen the Lady Elaine the Fair asked that woodman if one of those horses\nwas white and the other piebald and he said: \"Yea, as white as milk and\npiebald with white and black.\" And the Lady said, \"Then that must be\nthey.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine cometh to the forest chapel._]\n\nSo that same day she and her company made them ready and they rode away\nfrom Astolat and so came into the forest toward the westward. And after\na while they came to a path that went across the way and they took that\npath to the right hand. So they travelled that path for a great while,\nand by and by they beheld before them the hut of the hermit where it was\nall built up against a great rock of the forest and overshadowed by the\nthick foliage of the aged oak tree that grew above it. Then as they\ndrew near they heard the neighing of horses and they wist that they must\nbe the horses of Sir Launcelot and of Sir Lavaine.\n\nThen, as the horses neighed in that wise, and as the horses of the Lady\nElaine's party answered their neighing, there came one and opened the\ndoor of the hut and stood gazing at the Lady Elaine and her party as\nthey drew near, shading his eyes from the slanting sun. And the Lady\nElaine beheld who it was who stood there and she knew that it was Sir\nLavaine, wherefore she cried out in a loud and piercing voice, \"My\nbrother! My brother!\" Then Sir Lavaine, when he heard her, cried out\nupon his part as in great amazement, \"My sister, is it thou?\" and\ntherewith he ran to her and he took her hand and she stooped from her\nhorse and kissed his lips.\n\nThen she said to Sir Lavaine, \"How is it with him, doth he live?\"\nWhereunto Sir Lavaine said, \"Yea, he liveth and will live, albeit he is\nweak like to a little child.\" She said, \"Where is he?\" And Sir Lavaine\nsaid, \"Come and you shall see.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine beholdeth Sir Launcelot._]\n\nSo he lifted the Lady Elaine down from her horse and he took her by the\nhand and led her into the hut of the hermit and there she beheld Sir\nLauncelot where he lay upon a pallet and lo! his face was white like to\nwhite wax and his eyes were closed as though in slumber and it seemed to\nthe Lady Elaine that he rather resembled a white and sleeping spirit\nthan a living man.\n\nSo the Lady Elaine went silently forward to where Sir Launcelot lay and\nshe kneeled down beside the pallet and the tears ran down her face like\nto sparks of fire. Therewith Sir Launcelot opened his eyes and he beheld\nher who she was and he smiled upon her. And Sir Launcelot said, \"Is it\nthou?\" She said: \"Yea, Messire.\" He said, \"Whence cometh thou?\" She\nsaid, \"I come from my father's house.\" He said, \"And have you come\nhitherward from thence only for to find me?\" whereunto she said, \"Yea.\"\nSir Launcelot said, \"Why have you taken so great trouble as that upon my\naccount?\" And at that she bowed her head low and said, \"Certes, thou\nknowest why.\" And this she spake not above a whisper, and so that I\nbelieve they two alone heard her words.\n\nThen Sir Launcelot said no more but lay gazing upon her albeit he could\nsee naught but her head, for her face was hidden from him. So after a\nwhile he sighed very deep and said: \"Lady, God knows I am no happy man.\nFor even though I may see happiness within my reach yet I cannot reach\nout my hand to take it. For my faith lieth pledged in the keeping of one\nwith whom I have placed it and that one can never be aught to me but\nwhat she now is. And it is my unhappy lot that whether it be wrong or\nwhether it be right I would not have it otherwise, and so my faith\nremaineth pledged as aforesaid.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot and the Lady Elaine commune together._]\n\nNow the Lady Elaine wist what Sir Launcelot meant and that he spoke of\nthe Lady Queen Guinevere unto whom he had vowed his faith of knighthood.\nAnd Elaine wept and she said, \"Alas, Launcelot, I have great pity both\nfor thee and for me.\" And at that Sir Launcelot sighed again as from the\nbottom of his heart and said, \"Yea, it is great pity.\"\n\nThen after a while the Lady Elaine came out from where Sir Launcelot\nlay, and she gave command that they should abide at that place until the\nwounded knight was healed of his hurt. So the Lady Elaine established\nher court there in the forest nigh to where Sir Launcelot lay. And they\nset up pavilions around about that place so that all that erstwhile\nlonely and silent woodland was presently gay with bright colors and\ncheerful with the sound of many voices.\n\nAnd methinks that these days, whilst the Lady Elaine dwelt there in the\nforest nigh to the chapel of the good old hermit of the forest, and\nwhilst she abided ever close to Sir Launcelot in that time of his\ngrievous sickness, were the happiest days of all her life unto that\ntime. For it was as though Sir Launcelot were all her own and as though\nthere was none in the world but they two. For ever she was nigh to him\nand cherished him in all ways, the whiles the voices of those others who\nwere there sounded remote and afar off as though they were of a\ndifferent world than hers.\n\nSo ever the Lady Elaine drank deep draughts of love and joy, and thought\nnot of the morrow, but only of the day and of the joys that the day set\nto the lips of her soul, as it were, in a bright, shining chalice of\npure gold.\n\nFor so it is, oftentimes, that the soul drinketh deep from that chalice\nand reckoneth not that at the bottom of the cup there lyeth the dregs of\nsorrow or of despair that must by and by likewise be quaffed, and which,\nwhen drunk, must turn all the life thereafter to bitterness, as though\nthose dregs were compounded of the gall and of the wormwood of death.\n\n[Sidenote: _They return to Corbin._]\n\nThus the Lady Elaine the Fair abided with her court there in the forest\nfor nigh a month and by the end of that time Sir Launcelot was healed of\nhis infirmities, though like to a little child for weakness. And after\nhe was healed she then had a fair litter prepared with several soft\ncushions of down. And she had that litter hung with hangings of\nflame-colored satin; and she had them lay Sir Launcelot therein and so\nthey bore him thence. Thus they bore him in that litter by easy stages\nuntil they had brought him to Corbin and there he was received with\ngreat rejoicing and high honor.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow it hath been told how that Queen Guinevere bade Sir Bors for to go\nseek Sir Launcelot and to bear him a command for to return to the court\nof the King. So Sir Bors did as the Queen bade him, but he did not find\nSir Launcelot until after he had been brought back to Corbin as\naforetold of.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Bors cometh to Corbin._]\n\nThereafter it happened that one day Sir Bors had news that Sir Launcelot\nwas lying at the court of King Pelles. So he went thither and there he\nbeheld Sir Launcelot who was then wellnigh entirely recovered from his\nwound.\n\nBut when Sir Launcelot beheld Sir Bors, such joy seized upon him that it\nwas as though his heart would break, wherefore he ran to Sir Bors and he\ncatched him in his arms, and embraced him with great passion and kissed\nhim many times upon the face.\n\nAnd they of the court of King Pelles were very glad that so famous a\nknight had come thither, wherefore they paid him great honor.\n\nOnly the Lady Elaine was troubled in spirit, for she wist that now Sir\nBors was come Sir Launcelot would not stay with them for long, but that\nhe would in a little while desire to return again to the court of King\nArthur.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Bors speaketh to Sir Launcelot._]\n\nAnd so she had reason for her fears, for the next day after he had\narrived at Corbin, Sir Bors took Sir Launcelot aside and he said to him,\n\"Sir Knight, I am a messenger.\" Sir Launcelot said, \"What message have\nyou, and from whom?\" Sir Bors said: \"I bear a message from Queen\nGuinevere and it is that you return immediately to the court of King\nArthur and that you present yourself to her and pay your duty to her as\nof old.\"\n\nThen after Sir Bors had thus spoken, Sir Launcelot turned him away and\nstood at a window with his back to Sir Bors. And then after a\nconsiderable while he said, \"Sir, do you not know that my duty lieth\nhere?\" Sir Bors said: \"That I believe full well. Nor can I find fault\nwith you if you remain here in spite of the message I bring you. That\nwhich I am here for is not to command you to come to Camelot, but only\nto give you the commands of another.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot said: \"Would you return to Camelot if you were me and\nI were you?\" Sir Bors said, \"That I cannot tell.\" Then after another\nwhile Sir Launcelot cried out: \"Nay, I will not go; for though my heart\nlieth there and not here, yet I hold the happiness of another in my hand\nand I cannot cast it away.\"\n\n\"Then,\" quoth Sir Bors, \"I will return and tell them at the court of the\nKing that your honor binds you here.\" And Sir Launcelot said, \"Do so.\"\nAnd then he said, \"There is but one favor I beseech of you, Messire.\"\nSir Bors said, \"What is that?\" Sir Launcelot said: \"It is this: I pray\nyou of your courtesy that you will depart immediately from this place,\nfor the sight of you bringeth to me such great desire to behold my\nkinsmen and my friends once more that I believe that I shall not be able\nto contain myself because of that desire if you remain here any longer.\"\nAnd Sir Bors said, \"I will go within the hour.\"\n\nSo that very hour Sir Bors betook himself away from Corbin and returned\nto the court of King Arthur, and when he had come there he delivered his\nmessage to the Queen and thereat she was like one whose heart had been\nbroken. For when she received that news from Sir Launcelot she withdrew\ninto her bower and no one saw her for a long time thereafter.\n\nNow after Sir Bors had departed from Corbin in that wise, Sir Launcelot\nwas very heavy and sad, and though several days went by, yet was he not\nless sad at the end of that time, but still walked like one in a dream\nwith his thoughts a great way off.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine biddeth Sir Launcelot to return._]\n\nAnd all this the Lady Elaine observed and her spirit was troubled\nbecause of the sadness of Sir Launcelot. So one day she sent for Sir\nLauncelot to come to her bower and when Sir Launcelot had come thither\nshe said to him, \"Launcelot, I know what is in thy heart.\" Sir Launcelot\nsaid, \"What is there in my heart?\" She said, \"It is in thy heart that\nthou wouldst fain return to the court of King Arthur.\" \"Lady,\" said Sir\nLauncelot, \"it matters not what may be my inclination at this present,\nfor above all those inclinations it is my will that I remain at this\nplace.\"\n\nThen Elaine looked very steadfastly at him and she smiled, but there was\nas it were despair in her face even though she smiled. And after a\nlittle she said: \"Not so, Messire, for I cannot bear to see you dwell\nwith us thus in sadness. Wherefore, this command I lay upon you that you\nleave this court and that you return to the court of King Arthur, which\nsame is the place where you do rightly belong.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot turned away from her, for he wist that there was joy\nin his face at the thought of returning to his kinsmen and his friends\nonce more, and he would not have her see that joy. Then after a while,\nand with his back turned, he said, speaking as with a smothered voice:\n\"Lady, if that be your command I must needs obey, but if I do obey you\nit shall be only to go for a little while and then to return after that\nwhile.\" So for a little no more was said, but the Lady Elaine ever gazed\nupon Sir Launcelot where he stood with his back to her, and after a\nwhile she said, \"Ah, Launcelot! Launcelot!\" Upon that Sir Launcelot\nturned him about and cried out, \"Elaine, bid me stay and I will stay!\"\nBut she said, \"Nay, I bid thee not, I bid thee go.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot went from that place with his head bowed down upon\nhis bosom, and after he had gone she wept in great measure, for it was\nas though she had cut off her hope of happiness with her own hand, as\nthough it had been a part of her body.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot returneth to court._]\n\nSo the next day Sir Launcelot took horse and departed from Corbin,\nbetaking his way toward Camelot, where was the court of King Arthur, and\nthough he thought a very great deal of the Lady Elaine, yet he could not\nbut look forward with joy in coming back again to the court of the King\nand of beholding the Queen and his knights companions once more.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot cometh to the Queen._]\n\nNow when Sir Launcelot reached Camelot the news of his coming spread\nlike fire throughout the entire place and everywhere was heard the noise\nof loud rejoicing and acclaim. But Sir Launcelot spake to nobody but\ncame straight to where Queen Guinevere was and he stood before the Queen\nand his face was very gloomy and he said to her, \"Lady, here am I.\"\n\nThen Queen Guinevere gazed at him with great coldness and she said to\nhim, \"Sir Knight, what brings thee hither?\" Sir Launcelot said: \"Lady,\nit is thy command that brings me. For alas! I find it to be thus with me\nthat thy word hath power to bring me to thee whether it be from glory or\nfrom happiness or from peace or from prosperity. Yea; all these things\nwould I sacrifice at thy behest.\"\n\nThen Queen Guinevere gazed upon Sir Launcelot for a long while and her\nsoul was tossed and troubled with a great ferment of passion, and yet\nshe wist not whether that passion was of indignation or of grief or of\nanger or of something else that was not like any of these. And first her\nface had been very white when he stood before her, and anon it flamed\nred like to fire, and she said: \"Sir Knight, one time I sent my word to\nthee by a messenger and thou heeded him not. Now it matters not that\nthou comest, for thy coming and thy going are henceforth of no moment to\nme.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot's heart was filled to bursting with bitterness and\ndespair, and he cried out aloud: \"Lady, thou beholdest me a miserable\nman. For I have left all my duty and all my service and all my hope of\npeace and happiness and have come to thee. Hast thou not then some word\nof kindness for me?\"\n\nBut the Queen only hardened her heart and would not answer.\n\nThen Sir Launcelot cried out in great despair: \"Alas! what is there then\nleft for me? Lo! I have cast away from me all my hope of peace and now\neven thy friendship is withdrawn from me. Nothing then is left to me and\nmy life is dead.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Queen is angry._]\n\nThen Queen Guinevere's eyes flashed like fire, and she cried out: \"Sir\nKnight, you speak I know not what. Now I bid you tell me this--is it\ntrue that you wore as a favor the sleeve of the Lady Elaine the Fair at\nthe tournament of Astolat?\"\n\nSir Launcelot said, \"Yes, it is true.\"\n\nThen the Lady Queen Guinevere laughed with flaming cheeks and she said:\n\"Well, Sir Knight I see that you are not very well learned in knighthood\nnot to know that it is both unknightly and dishonorable for a knight to\nsware faith to one lady and to wear the favor of another. Yet what else\nthan that may be expected of one who knoweth so little of the duties and\nof the obligations of knighthood that he will ride errant in a hangman's\ncart?\"\n\nSo spake Queen Guinevere in haste not knowing what she said, her words\nbeing driven onwards by her passion as feathers are blown by a tempest\nover which they have no control. But when she had spoken those words she\nwas terrified at what she had said and would have recalled them. But she\ncould not do that, for who can recall the spoken word after it is\nuttered? Wherefore, after she had spoken those words she could do\nnothing but gaze into Sir Launcelot's face in a sort of terror. And as\nshe thus gazed she beheld that his face became red and redder until it\nbecame all empurpled as though the veins of his head would burst. And\nshe beheld that his eyes started as though from his head and that they\nbecame shot with blood. And she beheld that he clutched at his throat as\nthough he were choking. And he strove to speak but at first he could not\nand then he cried out in a harsh and choking voice, \"Say you so!\" and\nthen again in the same voice he cried, \"Say you so!\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot leapeth from the window._]\n\nTherewith he turned, staggering like a drunken man. And there was a tall\nwindow open behind him, and straightway he leaped out of that window\ninto the courtyard beneath, where he fell with a loud and dreadful\ncrash.\n\nBut yet it was as though he had not fallen for he immediately leaped up\nto his feet and ran away all bruised and bloody from that place like one\ngone wode.\n\nThen Queen Guinevere shrieked aloud with a great passion of terror and\nremorse. And she cried out she knew not what and smote her hands very\nviolently together. Thereat several came running to her and to them she\ncried out in a voice of vehement passion: \"Go you, run with might and\nmain and fetch Sir Launcelot hither to me again!\"\n\nSo those ran with all despatch but they could not find Sir Launcelot.\nFor immediately after leaving the Queen as aforesaid, he had leaped upon\nhis horse and had thundered away with all speed, and no one knew whither\nhe had betaken himself.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Bors is indignant._]\n\nNow the word of all this was talked about the court of the King almost\nas soon as it had happened, for all the court was loud with the noise of\nit. Thereat, when the kinsmen of Sir Launcelot had heard what had\npassed, they were filled with great indignation at the manner in which\nhe had been treated; and most of all Sir Bors was indignant, for he said\nto himself: \"Lo! this Lady first sends me to seek my kinsman and to\nbring him to her and when he cometh at her bidding then she treats him\nwith contumely altogether unworthy for a knight to endure. What then\nmust Sir Launcelot think of me who was her foolish messenger to fetch\nhim hither?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Queen Guinevere bespeaketh the kinsmen of Sir Launcelot._]\n\nBut Queen Guinevere, not knowing of the indignation of the kinsmen of\nSir Launcelot, sent for three of them to come to her, and these three\nwere Sir Ector and Sir Lionel and Sir Bors de Ganis. When these three\nhad come to her they found her weeping and when they stood before her\nshe said, \"Messires, I have done amiss.\" To this they said nothing lest\nfrom anger they should say too much. Yet the Queen beheld their anger,\nwherefore she dried her tears and spake with pride, saying: \"Messires, I\nask you not to forgive me who am your Queen, but I would fain ask Sir\nLauncelot to forgive me and I know that out of his gentleness he will do\nso. Now as your Queen and sovereign I lay this command upon you, that\nyou straightway go in quest of Sir Launcelot and that you find him and\nthat you bring him hither to me so that I may beseech his forgiveness\nfor all that I have said amiss to him.\"\n\nSo spake Queen Guinevere, and those knights who were there, though they\nwere very angry with her yet they could not but obey the command which\nshe laid upon them.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Sidenote: _Of the Quest of Sir Launcelot._]\n\nSo began the Quest of Sir Launcelot concerning which a very great deal\nhath been both written and said. For upon that quest there went forth\nthose three knights as aforesaid, to wit; Sir Ector, Sir Lionel, and\nSir Bors de Ganis, and after that there went forth Sir Gawaine and Sir\nEwaine and Sir Sagramore the Desirous and Sir Agravaine and Sir Percival\nof Gales.\n\nAll these undertook the Quest of Sir Launcelot and in that quest several\nadventures happened to them. Yet of all those adventures little of\nanything shall here be said saving only that which shall concern those\nadventures that befell Sir Ewaine and Sir Percival and Sir Gawaine; of\nwhich more anon.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd now there followeth the story of the Madness of Sir Launcelot, and\nof how he returned in a very strange manner to the Lady Elaine the\nFair--and of how she was made happy by that return.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nPART IV\n\nThe Madness of Sir Launcelot\n\n\n_Here follows the story of how Sir Launcelot went mad from grief and of\nhow he roamed the woods as a wild man of the woods. Also many other\nadventures that befell him are herein told, wherefore I hope that you\nmay have pleasure in reading that which is here written for your\nentertainment._\n\n[Illustration: The Madman of the Forest who was Sir Launcelot:]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter First\n\n_How Sir Launcelot became a madman of the forest and how he was brought\nto the castle of Sir Blyant._\n\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot driveth through the forest._]\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot falleth in a fit._]\n\nNow when Sir Launcelot had quitted the presence of Queen Guinevere as\naforetold, and having leaped to horse as aforetold, he rode very\nfuriously away, he wist not whither and cared not. And he raced like a\nwhirlwind, striving, as it were, to escape from himself and his own\ndespair. Thus he drove onward until he reached the shades of the forest,\nand he rode through the forest, rending the branches with his body,\nuntil his horse was all a lather of sweat. So he pursued his way till\nnight descended upon him, and still he drove ever forward, he knew not\nwhitherward. And he travelled in that wise all that night until about\nthe dawning of the day, what time he came to that part of the woodland\nwhere was the hut of the hermit of the forest, and there he beheld the\nchapel and the cell of the hermit. Here Sir Launcelot leaped down from\nhis horse, and he burst very violently into the dwelling-place of that\ngood man so that the hermit was amazed at his coming. And Sir Launcelot\ncried out in a loud and violent voice, \"God save you!\" and therewith he\nfell forward and lay with his face upon the floor.\n\nThen the hermit ran to him and he lifted up his head and looked in his\nface and he beheld that Sir Launcelot was in a fit.\n\nSo the hermit eased Sir Launcelot of his armor and he loosed the jerkin\nand the shirt at his throat so that his throat was bare. And he lifted\nSir Launcelot and brought him to his own cot and he laid him down\nthereon and there Sir Launcelot lay for the entire day.\n\nBut toward the sloping of the afternoon the sick man opened his eyes and\nhe aroused and sat up and gazed about him, and he said, \"Where am I?\"\nThe hermit said, \"Thou art with me,\" and he further said, \"What aileth\nthee, Sir Launcelot?\"\n\nBut to this Sir Launcelot answered naught but ever looked about him as\nthough not knowing who he was or where he was; for he was like to one\nwho is bedazed by a heavy blow he hath received. Then by and by Sir\nLauncelot said, \"I know not what it is that hath happened.\" Thus he\nspake because his brains were bewildered by the passion through which he\nhad passed, for even at that time the madness which afterward gat hold\nof him had begun to ferment in his brains so that he wist not very well\nwhat he said or did.\n\nThen the hermit knew that some great trouble had befallen Sir Launcelot,\nand he thought that maybe if Sir Launcelot would eat he would perhaps be\nrefreshed and might maybe recover his mind once more. So the good man\nsaid, \"Messire, will you not eat?\" and Sir Launcelot said, \"Yea, give me\nto eat.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The hermit cherisheth Sir Launcelot._]\n\nSo the hermit brought bread and milk and honey and fruit and he set\nthose things before Sir Launcelot. And Sir Launcelot fell upon those\nthings and ate of them very fiercely and voraciously, devouring them\nmore like a savage than a worshipful and worthy knight.\n\nThen after Sir Launcelot had thus eaten he said, \"I am aweary,\" and\ntherewith he arose and ungirded his armor, and laid it aside, piece by\npiece, even to the very last piece thereof. Then when he was thus eased\nof his armor, he flung himself down in his jerkin and hose upon the\nhermit's pallet and therewith in a moment had fallen into a slumber so\ndeep that it was like the sleep of death. And as he slept thus the\nhermit sat beside the pallet whereon Sir Launcelot lay. And he gazed\nvery steadfastly upon Sir Launcelot, and was greatly grieved to see him\nin that condition.\n\nNow it happened that about the middle of the night the hermit fell\nasleep where he sat and shortly after that Sir Launcelot awoke and was\naware how the old man slept. And Sir Launcelot took of a sudden a great\nfear of the hermit he wist not wherefore, so that the only thought in\nhis mind was to escape from the hermit. Wherefore he arose and went very\nsoftly and in his bare feet out from that place, doing this so silently\nthat he did not awaken the hermit from his sleep.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot escapeth from the hermitage._]\n\nThus Sir Launcelot came outside the hermit's hut, and after he had thus\nescaped therefrom, he took of a sudden great fear lest the hermit should\nawake and pursue him for to bring him back to the hut again. So\nstraightway he turned him and sped away into the forest with great\nspeed, like as though he were a wild animal pursued by the hunter. And\nhe fled away for all the rest of that night. And when the dawn had come\nhe ceased to fly and he crouched down and hid himself in the thickets of\nthe forest. For in his madness he was ever pursued by the fear that the\nhermit would follow him and that he was even then hunting for him for to\nbring him back to the hut again.\n\nThus it was that Sir Launcelot escaped from the hut of the hermit, and\nafter that he abided in the forest for a long while. What time he\ngathered the wild fruit of the forest for his food. And he drank of the\nforest fountains and that was all the food and drink that he had. And\nafter a while the clothes of Sir Launcelot were all torn into shreds by\nthe thorns and briars, and his hair grew down into his eyes and his\nbeard grew down upon his breast so that he became in all appearance a\nwild man of the forest, all naked, and shaggy, and gaunt like to a\nhungry wolf.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot becometh the forest madman._]\n\nAnd now and again it chanced that some one who travelled in the forest\nwould see him as he ran through the thickets of the woodland like to a\nwild creature, and hence it was that much talk of that wild man of the\nforest went about the countryside, and folk were afraid of all that part\nof the woodlands because of him.\n\nNow one pleasant morning in the autumn season when the early frosts were\ncome, and when all the trees had taken on their clothing of crimson and\nrusset and gold, Sir Launcelot, in his mad wanderings, came to the edge\nof the woodland and there before him he beheld a little open plain all\nyellow and bright in the broad beams of the shining sunlight. And Sir\nLauncelot beheld that in the midst of that small plain was a fair\npavilion of blue silk. And he beheld that near by the pavilion there\nwere three horses tethered browsing upon the autumn grass. And he beheld\nthat a bright shield hung to a tree that grew near the pavilion, and\nthat a fair sword hung nigh the shield, and that a spear leaned against\nthe tree beside the shield and sword.\n\nThen Sir Launcelot was pleased with the bright color of the pavilion and\nsomething of knighthood awoke within him at the sight of the shield and\nthe sword and the spear, wherefore he desired to handle the sword and\nthe spear and to touch the shield.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot beateth upon the shield of Sir Blyant._]\n\nSo Sir Launcelot went forward into that plain and he came to the tree\nwhere were the sword and the shield and the spear. And he took the\npommel of the sword into his hand. Thereupon a great desire for battle\ncame upon him, and he straightway catched the pommel of the sword in\nboth his hands and he drew the blade forth from the sheath. And he\nwhirled the sword about his head and he smote the shield; and he smote\nit again and again, striking great dents into it with the blade of the\nsword; and the sound of those blows made such a din and uproar that it\nwas as though ten men were fighting in that place.\n\nTherewith, at all that sudden din and uproar, there came running out of\nthat pavilion a misshapen dwarf very broad of shoulder and strong of\nlimb. And when that dwarf beheld a madman smiting the shield in that\nwise, he ran at him with intent to take the sword away from him.\n\nBut Sir Launcelot beheld the dwarf coming in that wise, and straightway\nhe dropped the sword which he held, and he catched the dwarf by the\nshoulders and he flung him so violently down upon the earth that the\nneck of the dwarf was wellnigh broken by that fall.\n\nThen the dwarf was overwhelmed with the terror of Sir Launcelot,\nwherefore he did not dare to arise from the ground whereon he had\nfallen, but lay there calling out for help in a loud voice of outcry.\n\nThereupon, there immediately came forth from out of the pavilion a noble\nknight clad all in scarlet and wrapped in a scarlet cloak trimmed with\nminiver. And that knight was Sir Blyant whose castle stood not more than\nfour or five leagues from that place. For at such pleasant season of the\nyear, Sir Blyant was wont to ride forth with his lady, and ever when he\nchose he would have a pavilion set up in some such pleasant place as\nthis little glade. And sometimes Sir Blyant and his lady would lodge in\nthat pavilion over-night, as was the case at this time.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Blyant pitieth the madman._]\n\nSo Sir Blyant came forth out of the pavilion as aforesaid, and he beheld\nthe dwarf lying upon the ground. And he beheld that Sir Launcelot had\ncatched up the sword again, and that he stood above the dwarf, making\nplay with his sword as though there were many enemies thereabouts; and\nSir Blyant wist that he whom he beheld must be the Madman of the Forest\nof whom folk talked so much. Then Sir Blyant pitied that madman a very\ngreat deal, and he spake very mildly to him, saying: \"Good man, put down\nthat sword, for meseems thou art in greater need of food and of warm\nclothes and of nourishing and comforting than of playing with a sharp\nsword in that wise.\"\n\nBut ever Sir Launcelot waved the sword this way and that, crying out in\na great loud voice, \"Keep thou away or I will slay thee.\"\n\nThen Sir Blyant perceived that there was great danger in having to do\nunarmed with that madman, wherefore he called upon his dwarf to arise\nand come to him, and therewith he withdrew into the pavilion with intent\nto arm himself and so to take away that sword from Sir Launcelot by\nforce.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Blyant armeth himself._]\n\nSo the dwarf, who by that time had arisen from where he lay, went into\nthe pavilion to where Sir Blyant was, and he aided Sir Blyant to don his\narmor, and so Sir Blyant armed himself from head to foot. When he was\nthus armed he took sword in hand and went forth from out of the pavilion\nprepared to deal with the madman in such wise as was necessary to take\nthat dangerous sword from him. For even if it must be that he had to\nslay that madman, Sir Blyant wist that he must not leave him thus with a\nsharp sword in his hand. So Sir Blyant came out of the pavilion armed at\nall points.\n\nBut when Sir Launcelot beheld him coming forth thus armed as for battle,\nthe love of battle awoke to full life in his heart, wherefore he shouted\naloud. And he rushed at Sir Blyant and he struck Sir Blyant upon the\nhelm so fierce and terrible a buffet that nor guard nor armor could\nwithstand that stroke. And had the sword not turned a little in the\nhands of Sir Launcelot that had been Sir Blyant's last day upon earth.\n\n[Sidenote: _The madman overthroweth Sir Blyant._]\n\nNatheless, the sword, though turned, fell with full force upon the crest\nof Sir Blyant, and at that dreadful, terrible stroke the brains of Sir\nBlyant flashed fire into his eyeballs. Then blackness came roaring upon\nhim and therewith he fell down in a deathly swoon, the blood running out\nfrom his nose and ears from the force of that woeful stroke he had\nsuffered.\n\nSo when Sir Launcelot beheld Sir Blyant fall thus beneath the blow, he\nshouted aloud for joy. And straightway with the naked sword in his hand\nhe ran into the pavilion with intent to find what other enemies there\nmight be in that place.\n\nNow the lady of Sir Blyant was alone in that pavilion, so when she\nbeheld that half-naked madman rush therein with the shining sword in his\nhand, and a terrible fierce look of madness upon his face, she shrieked\nwith terror and straightway ran forth from the tent upon the other side\nthereof.\n\nSo Sir Launcelot stood and gazed all about him, waving his sword from\nside to side, but could behold no enemies such as he might assault. And\nthen he saw where there was a fine soft couch spread with a covering of\nflame-colored linen in that place, and therewith he ran to that bed and\nleaped into it and straightway covered himself all over with the\ncoverlet.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady is adread._]\n\nWhen the lady of Sir Blyant ran in that wise out of the pavilion as\naforesaid, she beheld where her lord, Sir Blyant, lay stretched out upon\nthe ground, and she beheld the dwarf bending over him, removing the helm\nfrom his head. And beholding that sight she shrieked more than ever and\nran frantically to where that stricken knight lay. Therewith, beholding\nhis face all white as milk and streaked with blood, she thought that he\nhad certes been killed by that madman, whereupon she flung herself down\nupon his body, crying aloud in a most piercing voice, \"My lord! My lord!\nAssuredly thou art dead!\"\n\n\"Not so, lady,\" said the dwarf, \"he is not dead, but aswoon.\" And even\nas the dwarf spoke, Sir Blyant sighed very deeply and opened his eyes.\nAnd he said: \"Where is that madman who struck me anon? Never in all my\nlife felt I such a buffet as that which he gave me.\" The dwarf said,\n\"Lord, that madman ran but now into the pavilion and drove your lady out\nthence.\" \"Go, Sirrah,\" said Sir Blyant, \"and see what he is at in the\npavilion.\"\n\nSo the dwarf went very fearfully to the door of the pavilion and peeped\nwithin, and he beheld where Sir Launcelot lay sleeping upon the couch.\nThereupon the dwarf returned to Sir Blyant and he said: \"Sir, that\nmadman hath taken to your bed, and he lyeth there now very soundly\nasleep as he were in a swoon.\" And then the dwarf said: \"Give me leave\nto take this sword and go thither and I will slay him where he lieth.\nFor only so may we hope to save ourselves from the madness of his\nphrenzy when he shall awake.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Blyant looketh upon the madman._]\n\nBut Sir Blyant pitied the madman and he said: \"Let be and harm him not,\nfor I misdoubt this madman is not what he seemeth to be.\" And he said,\n\"Help me to arise, for my head swimmeth.\" So the lady and the dwarf\nhelped Sir Blyant to his feet and in a little while he was able to stand\nand to walk. And anon Sir Blyant went into the pavilion, and he went to\nwhere Sir Launcelot lay and he stood and looked down upon him. And he\nbeheld that Sir Launcelot wore a rich ring upon his finger (and that was\nthe ring of magic which the Lady of the Lake had given him) and he\nbeheld that Sir Launcelot's body was covered with many scars of wounds\nsuch as a knight might receive in battle. So seeing these things, Sir\nBlyant said: \"This is no common madman, but some great champion who has\nfallen into misfortune, for I behold that he weareth a ring such as only\na knight of great credit might wear, and I behold that he beareth many\nhonorable scars of battle.\"\n\nAnd Sir Blyant said to the dwarf: \"Take thou thy horse and ride with all\nspeed to my castle. When thou art come there, bid my brother Sir\nSelivant to make haste hither with several men. And bid him to fetch a\nhorse litter with him so that we may be able to bring this mad knight to\nwhere he may have succor and where he may haply be cured of his\ninfirmities.\"\n\nSo the dwarf did as Sir Blyant commanded him; he took horse and rode\nwith all speed to the castle of Sir Blyant, and there he gave Sir\nBlyant's word to Sir Selivant. And straightway Sir Selivant came to that\nplace with those men and a horse litter for to bring Sir Launcelot away;\nand he reached that place within three hours after the messenger had\nbeen sent to him.\n\n[Sidenote: _They bear the madman thence._]\n\nSo Sir Selivant and Sir Blyant and those men lifted Sir Launcelot as he\nlay in his bed, and they laid him on the litter and Sir Launcelot did\nnot awake. And they took him away from that place and still he did not\nawake; for all that while he lay in a deep slumber that was like to a\nswoon. Thus they brought him to the castle of Sir Blyant without his\never arousing from that swoonlike sleep.\n\nAfter that they fetched the barber of the castle and the barber trimmed\nthe hair and the beard of Sir Launcelot and they put fresh decent\nclothes upon him, and all that time Sir Launcelot did not awake but lay\never in that swoonlike sleep.\n\nNow when they of that castle beheld Sir Launcelot as he lay after he had\nbeen thus clothed and clipped; and when they beheld how noble and comely\nwas his appearance, they said, \"Certes, this is indeed some noble and\nhaughty champion of high estate, though who he may be we know not.\"\n\nSo they all took great pity for Sir Launcelot, but yet they feared his\nphrenzy when he should awake. So they sent for the smith of the castle,\nand the smith fastened light strong chains of steel to the wrists of Sir\nLauncelot and to his ankles; so that he might do no harm to any one.\n\n[Sidenote: _The madman is made prisoner._]\n\nSo when Sir Launcelot awoke he was a prisoner in chains in the castle of\nSir Blyant. And Sir Launcelot remained dwelling in the castle of Sir\nBlyant for a year and a half, and ever he remained bound with those\nlight strong chains of steel. For still his wits flitted and he wist not\nwhere he was or who he was, wherefore they feared he might at any moment\nbreak forth into a phrenzy.\n\nBut ever the folk of the castle treated Sir Launcelot with great\nkindness and gentleness. And especially Sir Blyant was kind to him,\nwherefore Sir Launcelot loved Sir Blyant as some dumb creature loveth\nits master, and he would follow Sir Blyant about whithersoever he went.\n\nThus it was that Sir Launcelot went mad and thus he came to be chained\nin the castle of Sir Blyant.\n\nAnd now remaineth other adventures to be told that befell at this time.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: The Forest Madman saveth ye Life of King Arthur:]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Second\n\n_How Sir Launcelot saved the life of Sir Blyant. How he escaped from the\ncastle of Sir Blyant, and how he slew the great wild boar of Lystenesse\nand saved the life of King Arthur, his liege lord._\n\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Blyant rideth in the woodland._]\n\nNow it happened upon a day that Sir Blyant rode in a little wood nigh to\nhis castle, and whilst he was thus alone he beheld two knights riding\nside by side all in the clear bright springtime. As these drew nigh to\nhim Sir Blyant was aware from the devices upon their shields that one of\nthem was Sir Breuce sans Pitie and that the other was Sir Bertolet his\nbrother, which same, you are to know, were Sir Blyant's bitter enemies.\nFor in the tournament at Astolat Sir Blyant had very grievously hurt a\nyoung knight who was their brother, and afterward that knight (whose\nname was Sir Gelotius) had died of those hurts.\n\nYet though Sir Blyant wist that this meeting boded ill for him yet would\nhe not withdraw therefrom but went forward. So it came about that when\nhe was pretty close to those two knights, the foremost of them (who was\nSir Breuce sans Pitie) rode forth and bespoke him, saying, \"Sir Knight,\nwho are you and whither go you?\" Sir Blyant said: \"Messires, I am a\nknight of these marches, riding errant in search of adventure.\" Sir\nBreuce said, \"Art thou not Sir Blyant of the White Castle?\" Sir Blyant\nsaid, \"Thou sayest it and I am he.\"\n\nThen Sir Breuce sans Pitie spoke very savagely, saying: \"Sir Knight,\nthis is well that we meet you here who are the slayer of our brother Sir\nGelotius at the tournament of Astolat.\" To this Sir Blyant said:\n\"Messires, what do you have against me for that? Certes, it is that I\noverthrew Sir Gelotius and that he died thereafter, yet it was by chance\nof battle that this happened and with no evil intent of mine. Moreover,\nyour brother, Sir Gelotius, took his chances of battle as did all those\nwho entered that tournament.\"\n\n\"Say no more!\" said Sir Breuce. \"Say no more! but prepare you straight\nfor battle with us who have every day sought you from that time till\nnow, and so have found you here to our hand.\"\n\n\"Messires,\" cried Sir Blyant, \"would you fall upon me thus, two against\none?\" They say, \"Aye,\" and thereupon they drew sword and prepared\nthemselves for battle.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Blyant is assailed in the woodland._]\n\nThen Sir Blyant perceiving how it was, and that there was no other way\nfor him to do than to fight this battle against odds, straightway drew\nhis sword and put himself into posture of defence. Then in a moment they\nthree came to battle together in the woods, two of them against the one.\n\nYet, for a while, although he stood one to two, Sir Blyant defended\nhimself with great courage and address, striking now upon this side and\nnow upon that, anon wheeling his horse away from a stroke, anon lashing\na stroke at his enemies. And so great was the defence he made that it\nwas a long time ere that those two knights had their will of him.\n\nBut one knight could not hope to fight thus a continued battle against\ntwo who were his equals, wherefore it befell that in a little while Sir\nBlyant was wounded here and there, and in another place; and then, in a\nlittle while longer it came about that, what with weariness and what\nfrom the loss of blood, he was aware that he must die in that battle\nalone in the woodlands unless he saved himself from his enemies.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Blyant fleeth._]\n\nTherewith a great despair fell upon him and with that he put his horse\nstraight at Sir Breuce as though to strike him a buffet. Then as Sir\nBreuce drew aside to avoid that stroke, Sir Blyant drave his horse very\nfiercely against Sir Breuce's horse, so that Sir Breuce's horse wellnigh\nfell to the ground with his rider upon his back. Therewith Sir Blyant\nthrust past his enemy and quickly fled away toward his castle with all\nthe speed that he could drive his horse to make.\n\nNow at first those two knights were astonished at the sudden escape of\ntheir enemy. But immediately they awoke to his going and so set spurs to\nhorse upon their part and chased after Sir Blyant; and if he sped fast,\nthey sped as fast after him. And ever and anon they lashed furiously at\nhim, yet because of his speed they could do him no great harm.\n\nSo Sir Blyant raced for his castle and he rushed forward beneath the\nwalls of the castle with those two knights thundering after him amain.\nAnd because they were so close upon him, Sir Blyant could not draw rein\nto turn his steed into the drawbridge of the castle, but must needs rush\npast the drawbridge, calling for aid to those who were within the\nwalls.\n\n[Sidenote: _The madman beholdeth Sir Blyant's danger._]\n\nNow at that time Sir Launcelot lay (chained as was aforetold) in a\ncertain window of the castle where the sun shone down strong and warm\nupon him, and Sir Launcelot slumbered there in the sunlight. And as Sir\nLauncelot so slumbered he was aroused by the sound of galloping horses\nand a loud noise of shouting and the din of lashing of blows. So,\nlooking forth from that window, he beheld the three knights as they came\nthundering past the walls of the castle. And Sir Launcelot beheld that\nthe one knight who was pursued by the two knights was his master, Sir\nBlyant; and he beheld that Sir Blyant was much put to it to save his\nlife; for he was all covered over with blood and, whilst anon he would\nwheel his horse and strike right and left, yet anon he would wheel again\nand flee for his life; and Sir Launcelot beheld that Sir Blyant reeled\nin his saddle under every blow that his enemies lashed at him.\nMeanwhile, in the castle was a great shouting and calling to arms,\nwherefore it came to Sir Launcelot to know that Sir Blyant was being\nslain.\n\n[Sidenote: _The madman breaketh his bonds._]\n\nThen a great rage of battle awoke in Sir Launcelot's heart against those\nwho pressed his beloved master, Sir Blyant, in that wise, wherefore he\nwould have hastened to the aid of Sir Blyant, but could not because of\nthe chains that bound him. Then, in his madness, and being driven\nfurious at being thus bound, Sir Launcelot catched those strong steel\nchains in his hands and wrestled with them. And the chains bit deep into\nhis flesh in his wrestlings so that he was sore wounded by the iron. But\nin spite of that Sir Launcelot put forth his entire strength, and even\nthough the blood flowed from his arms and hands yet he snapped the\nchains that bound his arms. After that he catched up a great stone in\nhis hands and he beat upon the chains that bound his legs and brake\nthose also, and so he was free again.\n\nThen Sir Launcelot leaped upon the window-ledge, and he leaped out of\nthe window of the castle and into the moat below and he swam the moat\nand so came out upon the other side thereof.\n\nRight there came Sir Blyant striving to defend himself against those who\nfollowed him, and at that time he was very nigh falling from his horse\nat every blow he received. This Sir Launcelot beheld and when he saw how\nthose two knights ever smote Sir Blyant and how that Sir Blyant reeled\nin his saddle beneath those blows, he roared aloud in pity and in rage.\n\n[Sidenote: _The madman doeth battle for Sir Blyant._]\n\nTherewith, thus roaring, he straightway rushed upon Sir Bertolet, who\nwas nighest to him, and he leaped up and catched that knight about the\nbody and dragged him down upon the pommel of his saddle with great force\nof strength, and Sir Launcelot catched the sword of Sir Bertolet and he\nwrestled with Sir Bertolet and so plucked the sword out of Sir\nBertolet's hand.\n\nThen Sir Bertolet cried out to Sir Breuce: \"Help! Help! my brother! For\nthis madman slayeth me.\"\n\nTherewith Sir Breuce turned from Sir Blyant for to succor his brother,\nand upon that Sir Launcelot quitted Sir Bertolet and rushed at Sir\nBreuce. And Sir Launcelot gave Sir Breuce such a buffet upon the helm\nwith the sword of Sir Bertolet that he smote Sir Breuce with that one\nblow clean over the crupper of his horse.\n\nThen Sir Bertolet took his spear in hand and therewith rushed his horse\nupon Sir Launcelot with intent to pierce him through the body. But from\nthat assault Sir Launcelot leaped nimbly aside. Thereupon he rushed in\nand catched the spear of Sir Bertolet in his hand; and he ran up the\nlength of the spear, and reached forward, and smote Sir Bertolet such a\nblow that he cut through the epaulier of the shoulder and deep into the\nshoulder to the very bone thereof, so that the arm of Sir Bertolet was\nhalf cut away from the body at that blow. Then Sir Launcelot would have\nstruck again only that Sir Bertolet let go his spear from his hand,\nshrieking aloud, and wheeled his horse to escape.\n\nNow by that time Sir Breuce sans Pitie had got him to horse again\nwherefore, beholding that terrible blow and beholding how his brother\nSir Bertolet fled away from that madman, he also drove spurs to flank\nand fled away with might and main.\n\nSo it was that Sir Launcelot, unarmed, save for the sword in his naked\nhand, defeated two strong and doughty knights and so saved his master's\nlife.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Blyant cherisheth the madman._]\n\nBut by now the castle folk had come running to where were Sir Blyant and\nhim whom they called the mad fool of the castle, and they beheld them\nboth panting and bleeding. And Sir Blyant looked upon Sir Launcelot and\nbeheld how his arms and hands were torn and bleeding from breaking those\nchains, and he said, \"Poor fool! and hast thou suffered all that for my\nsake?\" And at that Sir Launcelot laughed and nodded. Then Sir Blyant\nsaid to the folk of the castle: \"Never let those chains be put upon his\nbody again, for he is gentle and kind, and meaneth harm to no one.\"\n\nSo they did not chain Sir Launcelot again, but suffered him to go free,\nand after that he wandered whithersoever he willed to go, and no one\nstayed him in his going or his coming. And ever he was kind and gentle\nto all so that no one in all that place had any fear of him but all were\npleased and merry with him.\n\nYet ever there lay within the heart of Sir Launcelot some remembrance\nthat told him that he was too worthy to content himself with being a mad\nfool in a lord's castle, wherefore it was always in his will to escape\nfrom the castle of Sir Blyant if he was able to do so.\n\n[Sidenote: _The madman escapeth from the castle of Sir Blyant._]\n\nSo now, being unchained, it happened one night when none observed him,\nthat he dropped privily from the wall of the castle into the moat\nthereof, and swam the moat to the other side. And after he had thus\nescaped into the night he ran on without stopping until he had reached\nthe forest, and there he roamed once more altogether wild as he had been\naforetime. For the remnant of his knighthood said to him that it would\nbe better for him to die alone there in the woodlands than to dwell in\nshame in a lord's castle.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow at that time there was a great wild boar in those parts that was the\nterror of all men, and this boar was called the boar of\nLystenesse--taking its name from that part of the forest which was\ncalled the Forest of Lystenesse.\n\n[Sidenote: _King Arthur hunts the boar of Lystenesse._]\n\nSo word of this great wild boar, and news of its ravages came to the\nears of King Arthur, whereupon the King ordained that a day should be\nset apart for a hunt in which the beast should be slain and the\ncountryside set free from the ravages thereof.\n\n[Sidenote: _The madman chases the boar._]\n\nThus it befell that upon a time Sir Launcelot, where he lived in his\nmadness alone in the forest, was aware of the baying of hounds and the\nshouting of voices sounding ever nearer and nearer to where he was. Anon\nthe baying of the hounds approached him very near indeed, and presently\nthere came a great cracking and rending of the bushes and the small\ntrees. Thereupon as he gazed, there burst out of the forest that great\nsavage wild boar of Lystenesse. And lo! the jowl of that boar was all\nwhite with the foam that was churned by his tusks, and the huge tusks of\nthe boar gleamed white in the midst of the foam. And the bristles of\nthat great beast were like sharp wires of steel, and they too were all\nflecked with the foam that had fallen from the jowl of the beast. And\nthe eyes of the wild boar gleamed like to two coals of fire, and it\nroared like to a devil as it fled, rending, through the forest. And ever\nthe hounds pursued the boar, hanging upon its flanks but not daring to\ngrapple with it in its flight, because of the terror that surrounded it.\n\nThen when Sir Launcelot beheld that sight the love of the chase flamed\nup within his heart and thereupon he shouted aloud and fell to running\nbeside the dogs after the boar, tearing his way through the briars and\nthorns and thickets, even as the boar and the hounds burst through\nthem. And so Sir Launcelot and the dogs chased the boar for a great\nwhile, until at last the beast came to bay, with his back set against a\ngreat crag of stone, and there the dogs surrounded it, yelling and\nbaying. And ever Sir Launcelot shouted them on to the assault, yet not\none of the hounds dared to grapple with the wild beast because of the\nterror of its appearance.\n\nSo as Sir Launcelot and the dogs joined in assault about the boar, there\ncame the sound of a horseman riding with speed and winding his horn.\nThen in a moment there came King Arthur himself, bursting out of the\nforest alone; for he had outridden all his court and was the first of\nall upon the field.\n\nThen King Arthur, beholding the boar where he stood at bay, set his\nlance in rest with intent to charge the beast and to pierce him through\nthe body. But the boar, all fierce and mad with the chase it had\nsuffered, did not wait that charge of the King but himself charged the\nhorseman. And at that charge King Arthur's horse was affrighted, with\nthe terror of the beast and flung suddenly aside so that the lance of\nKing Arthur failed of its aim.\n\n[Sidenote: _The boar overthroweth King Arthur._]\n\nTherewith the boar ran up under the point of the lance and he catched\nthe horse of the King with his tusks and ripped the horse so that both\nhorse and rider fell to the ground; King Arthur beneath the wounded\nanimal, so that he could not free his leg to rise from his fall.\n\nThen it would have been ill indeed with King Arthur but for that forest\nmadman. For beholding the fall of the King, Sir Launcelot ran\nstraightway to him. And he seized the sword of the King and plucked it\nforth from its sheath. Therewith he leaped at the boar and lashed at it\na mighty buffet, and as he did so his foot slipped in the blood of the\nhorse which there lay upon the ground, and he fell flat with the force\nof that blow which he purposed should destroy the boar.\n\nThereupon the boar, finding himself thus attacked by another, turned\nupon that other and ere Sir Launcelot could arise from his fall it was\nupon him. And the boar ripped Sir Launcelot with its tusks through the\nflesh of the thigh, even to the hip bone.\n\n[Sidenote: _The madman slayeth the boar._]\n\nNow, when Sir Launcelot felt the pang of that dreadful wound which the\nboar gave him he yelled aloud. At the same time his soul was filled with\na great passion of rage and madness so that, ere the boar could charge\nhim again, he leaped to his feet and rushed upon the boar. And Sir\nLauncelot smote the boar such a terrible dreadful stroke that he cut\nthrough the bristles of the neck and through the spine of the neck and\nhalf-way through the neck itself, so that the head of the boar was\nwellnigh cut away from its body.\n\nTherewith the boar fell down dead and Sir Launcelot staggered and stood\nleaning upon the sword, groaning amain with the bitter pangs of pain\nthat racked him.\n\nRight so, as Sir Launcelot stood thus, the other huntsmen of the King's\nparty came bursting out of the forest with the sound of horses and of\nshouting voices.\n\nThen when Sir Launcelot beheld them he thought, because of his madness\nand the raging of his torments, that these were they who had hurt him.\nSo therewith he roared like to a wild beast and he ran at those\nnewcomers, whirling the sword of King Arthur like lightning around his\nhead.\n\nThen several of those set their lances in rest with intent to run the\nmadman through the body ere he could do a harm to any one, but King\nArthur cried out: \"Beware what you do! Do him no harm, for he hath saved\nmy life.\" So those who would else have charged Sir Launcelot held their\nhands and drew away in retreat before him.\n\nBut already Sir Launcelot's strength was failing him, for his brains\nwere even then swimming with faintness. So in a little he sank down in a\nswoon and lay all of a heap upon the ground.\n\nThen the King, and the others who were there came to where he lay\nbleeding and swooning, and all looked down upon him, and because he was\nall naked and unkempt they knew him not. But nevertheless, they beheld\nthat he was of great girth and that he was covered over with a great\nmany scars of battle, and they all felt deep pity for him as he lay\nthere. Then King Arthur said: \"This is the framework of a mighty\nchampion. Pity indeed that he should have come to this as we behold\nhim.\" And he said: \"Lift him up tenderly and bear him hence to where he\nmay have comfort and nourishment.\"\n\nSo they lifted Sir Launcelot with great gentleness, and they bare him\naway from that place, and they brought him to the hut of that hermit\nwhere he had been healed aforetime when he had received that grievous\nwound in the tournament at Astolat.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo the hermit received Sir Launcelot and wist not who he was. For though\nhe beheld that here was a man of mighty girth and stature, yet was the\ngreat champion so changed by his madness and by his continued fasting in\nthe forest that even his nearest friends might not know him.\nNevertheless, though the hermit knew him not, yet he had them lay that\nforest madman upon a cot in his cell, and he searched that wound in the\nmadman's thigh and bathed it with tepid water, and anointed it with\nbalm and bound it up with bands of smooth white linen, so that that\nwound was in all ways well searched and dressed.\n\n[Sidenote: _The madman lyeth in the hermit's cell._]\n\nAnd the hermit looked upon Sir Launcelot and beheld that he was all\ngaunt and hollow with hunger and he said: \"If this poor mad creature is\nnot fed, he will die in a little while.\" So when Sir Launcelot had\nrevived him from that swoon, the good old man fetched milk and white\nbread and offered them to the sick man. But he would not touch that\nfood. For, though he was dying of hunger, yet he loathed that food\nbecause of his madness.\n\nSo Sir Launcelot lay there wounded and famishing and the hermit wist not\nwhat to do to make him eat. And he lay in that wise for three days and\never the hermit watched him and tried to make him partake of food, and\never the madman would fling away from the food that was offered him.\n\n[Sidenote: _The madman escapeth from the cell of the hermit._]\n\nNow upon the fourth day, the hermit being at his orisons in the chapel,\nSir Launcelot made assay to rise, and in spite of his weakness, he did\narise. And having thus arisen, he found strength in some wise for to\ncrawl out of the hut of the hermit, and the hermit at his prayers wist\nnot that the wounded man was gone. And after that Sir Launcelot crept\naway into the forest and so hid himself, very cunningly, like to a wild\ncreature, so that, though the hermit searched for him ever so closely,\nyet he was not able to find him. And the hermit said: \"Alas for this!\nFor certes this poor madman will die of his wound and of starvation all\nalone here in the forest, and no one can bring him succor.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo it was that Sir Launcelot escaped from the cell of the hermit a\nsecond time. And now it remaineth to be told how he returned to Corbin\nand to the Lady Elaine the Fair, and how the Lady Elaine cherished him\nand brought him back to health and strength and comeliness again. So I\npray you to read that which followeth if you would fain learn concerning\nthose things.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: The Lady Elaine the Fair knoweth Sir Launcelot:]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Third\n\n_How Sir Launcelot returned to Corbin again and how the Lady Elaine the\nFair cherished him and brought him back to health. Also how Sir\nLauncelot with the Lady Elaine withdrew to Joyous Isle._\n\n\nSo Sir Launcelot escaped from the cell of the hermit as aforetold. And\nhe lay hidden in the thickets all that day till the night had come. And\nwhen the night had come he arose and turned his face toward the eastward\nand thitherward he made his way.\n\n[Sidenote: _How Sir Launcelot returneth to Corbin._]\n\nFor death was very close to Sir Launcelot and there was but one thought\nin his mind and that thought was to return to Corbin. For even through\nhis clouds of madness, Sir Launcelot wist that there at Corbin a great\nlove awaited him and that if he might reach that place he might there\nhave rest and peace; wherefore in this time of weakness and of pain, he\nwilled to return to that place once more.\n\nSo Sir Launcelot made his way toward Corbin, and he travelled\nthitherward several days and God alone knows how he did so. And one\nmorning at the breaking of the day he came to the town of Corbin, and he\nentered the town by a postern gate he knew of old. And after he had\nentered the town he made his way slowly and with great pain up through\nthe streets of the town and the town was still asleep. So he came unseen\nto the market-place of Corbin where he had aforetime slain the Worm of\nCorbin as aforetold, and there sat him down upon that slab of stone\nbeneath which the Worm had made its habitation. And why he came there\nwho shall say except that maybe there lay very dimly within his mind\nsome remembrance that here he had one time had great honor and glory of\nknighthood.\n\n[Sidenote: _The people behold the madman._]\n\nSo there he sat, and when the people of the town awoke they beheld\nsitting there in the midst of that market-place one all naked and\nfamished who gazed about him with wild and terrified looks like to a\nstarving wolf who had come out of the forest driven by hunger.\n\nAnd many gathered and stared at Sir Launcelot from a distance, and these\nlaughed and jeered at him as he sat there in his nakedness, and not one\nof those wist that this was he who had aforetime slain the Worm of\nCorbin and so saved them in a time of their direst need. So they laughed\nand mocked him and anon some of those who were there began to cast\nstones at him with intent to drive him away from that place. So, at\nlast, one of those stones struck Sir Launcelot where he sat, and at that\nhis rage flamed up and took possession of him, whereupon he leaped up\nand ran at those who were tormenting him. And he catched a young man of\nthe town and heaved him up and cast him down so violently upon the earth\nthat he broke the bone of his thigh.\n\n[Sidenote: _The people assail the madman._]\n\nUpon that all those who were there shouted and screamed and fled away.\nAnd anon they returned and began stoning Sir Launcelot where he stood\nglaring and gnashing his teeth with the man whom he had hurt lying upon\nthe ground at his feet. And many stones struck Sir Launcelot, some\nwounding him upon the head and some upon the body. And now and then Sir\nLauncelot would charge the mob in his rage, and the mob would scatter\nbefore him like chaff before a gust of wind; but ever they would return\nand begin stoning him again.\n\nSo stoning Sir Launcelot and so Sir Launcelot charging the mob, the\npeople drove him out of the market-place. And they drave him through the\ntown and Sir Launcelot retreated before them toward the castle; for he\nwist even in his madness that there were friends there who should help\nhim. So he ever retreated until he had come to a postern gate of the\ncastle, and there he took stand with his back set against a wall. So at\nthat place he maintained his stand, facing the mob and glaring upon\nthem, until at last a stone smote him upon the head and he fell to the\nearth.\n\n[Sidenote: _They of the castle save Sir Launcelot._]\n\nThen it would have fared very hard with Sir Launcelot, even to his\ndeath, had not they within the castle, hearing the uproar of the\nmultitude, flung open the postern gate of a sudden and so come charging\nout upon the mob. Thereupon the multitude, being thus charged by the\narmed folk of the castle, scattered upon all sides and ran away, leaving\nSir Launcelot lying where he was.\n\nThen they of the castle came and gazed upon Sir Launcelot where he lay,\nand they beheld what a great and noble frame of man it was that lay\nthere, and thereupon they took great pity that such a man should be in\nthat condition. So the captain of the guard said: \"Alas, that such a man\nas this has been should come to such a pass. Now let us lift him up and\nbear him away into the castle where he may have care and nourishment.\"\n\nSo they did as that captain said, and they brought Sir Launcelot into\nthe castle of Corbin and to safety.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine knoweth Sir Launcelot._]\n\nNow it chanced that the Lady Elaine the Fair happened to be at her\nwindow, and looking down therefrom and into the courtyard she beheld\nwhere several men at arms bore a wounded man into the castle from that\npostern gate. As they passed beneath where she was, the Lady Elaine\nlooked down upon the countenance of the wounded man. Then she beheld his\nface with the sun shining bright upon it, and at that a thought struck\nthrough her like to the stroke of a keen, sharp knife, whereat the Lady\nElaine clasped her hands and cried out aloud: \"My soul! My soul! What is\nthis? Can it be he?\"\n\nNow there was in attendance upon the Lady Elaine at that time a certain\nvery old and sedate lady of the court who had been her nurse and\ncaretaker ever since her mother had died, leaving her a little helpless\nbabe cast adrift upon the world. And the name of that lady was Dame\nBrysen. So Elaine ran to where Dame Brysen was and she cast herself upon\nher knees before Dame Brysen and buried her face in Dame Brysen's lap\neven as though it were her mother who sat there. And she cried out from\nwhere she lay with her face in that lady's lap, \"Alas! Alas! Alas!\nMethinks I have beheld a most terrible sight!\" Dame Brysen, speaking as\nin affright, said, \"What hast thou seen, my child?\" The Lady Elaine\nsaid: \"Methinks I have beheld Sir Launcelot all starved with famine, and\nbruised and bleeding, and lying so nigh to death that I know not whether\nhe is dead or not.\"\n\nDame Brysen said: \"What is this thou sayst, my child? Where sawst thou\nsuch a sight as that? Hast thou been dreaming?\" The Lady Elaine said:\n\"Nay, I have not been dreaming, for, certes, as I stood at the window a\nlittle while ago I saw Sir Launcelot, and several men bore him into the\ncastle courtyard through the postern gate, and he was all naked and\nstarved and wounded and bruised.\"\n\nThe Dame Brysen said: \"Nay, child, calm thyself; what ails thee to think\nso strange a thing as that? That man whom thou didst see was not Sir\nLauncelot, but was a poor madman whom the townsfolk were stoning at the\npostern gate.\"\n\nBut the Lady Elaine cried out all the more vehemently: \"I fear! I fear!\nCertes that was Sir Launcelot! Now take me to him so that I may be\nassured whether it was he or not, for otherwise meseems I shall go mad!\"\n\nThen Dame Brysen perceived how it was with the Lady Elaine and that she\nwas like one gone distracted, and she wist that there was naught to do\nbut to let her have her will of this matter. Wherefore she said, \"It\nshall be as thou wilt have it.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine cometh to Sir Launcelot._]\n\nSo Dame Brysen arose and she took the Lady Elaine by the hand and she\nled her to that place where the madman lay, and they beheld that he lay\nin a little cell of stone, very gloomy and dark. For the only light that\ncame into that place was through a small window, barred with iron, and\nthe window was not more than two hands' breadth in width. Yet by the dim\nlight of this small window they beheld the wounded man where he lay upon\na hard pallet of straw. And they beheld that he was in a sleep as though\nit were a swoon of death and they beheld that his face was like death\nfor whiteness.\n\nThen in that gloomy light the Lady Elaine came and kneeled down beside\nthe couch whereon he lay and looked down into Sir Launcelot's face and\nshe studied his face as though it were a book written very fine and\nsmall; and ever her breath came more and more quickly as it would\nsuffocate her, for she felt assured that this was indeed Sir Launcelot.\nAnd anon she took Sir Launcelot's hand, all thin with famine and as cold\nas ice, and she looked at it and she beheld a ring upon the finger and\nthe ring was set with a clear blue stone, and thereupon the Lady Elaine\nknew that this was the ring which the Lady of the Lake had given Sir\nLauncelot aforetime.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine weepeth._]\n\nThereupon she knew that this was indeed Sir Launcelot and she cried out\nin a very loud and piercing voice, \"It is he! It is he!\" and so crying\nshe fell to weeping with great passion. And she kissed Sir Launcelot's\nhand and pressed it to her throat and kissed it again and yet again.\n\nThen Dame Brysen leaned over the Lady Elaine and catched her beneath the\narm and said: \"Lady, Lady! restrain your passion! remember yourself, and\nthat people are here who will see you.\" Therewith Dame Brysen lifted the\nLady Elaine up from where she kneeled, and she brought her out of that\ngloomy place, still weeping with a great passion of love and pity. But\nyet the Lady Elaine had so much thought for herself that she drew her\nveil across her face so that none might behold her passion, and she said\nto Dame Brysen, \"Take me to my father,\" and so, Dame Brysen, embracing\nher with one arm, led her to where King Pelles was.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine telleth her father of Sir Launcelot._]\n\nThen, when the Lady Elaine beheld her father standing before her, she\nflung herself upon her knees and embraced him about the thighs, crying:\n\"Father! Father! I have seen him and he is in this castle!\" At this\npassion of sorrow King Pelles was much amazed and he said, \"Whom hast\nthou seen, my daughter?\" She said: \"I have seen Sir Launcelot, and it\nwas he whom they fetched into the castle but now to save him from the\ntownsfolk who were stoning him to death at the postern gate.\" Then King\nPelles was amazed beyond measure and he said: \"Can such a thing be true?\nHow knowest thou it was he?\" She said: \"I know him by many signs, for I\nknew him by my love for him and I knew him by his face, and I knew him\nby the ring set with a blue stone which he weareth upon his finger.\"\n\nThen King Pelles lifted up the Lady Elaine where she kneeled at his feet\nand he said: \"Daughter, stay thy weeping and I will go and examine into\nthis.\"\n\nSo he did as he said and he went to the cell and he looked long upon Sir\nLauncelot as he lay there. And he looked at the ring which the wounded\nman wore upon his finger. So after a while King Pelles knew that that\nwas indeed Sir Launcelot who lay there, albeit he would not have known\nhim, had not the Lady Elaine first declared that it was he.\n\nSo immediately King Pelles bade those who were in attendance to lift Sir\nLauncelot up and to bear him very tenderly away from that place and to\nbring him to a fair large room. So they did as King Pelles commanded and\nthey laid Sir Launcelot upon a couch of down spread with a coverlet of\nwadded satin. And King Pelles sent for a skilful leech to come and to\nsearch Sir Launcelot's hurts and he bade the physician for to take all\nheed to save his life. And all that while Sir Launcelot lay in that deep\nswoon like to death and awoke not.\n\nAnd Sir Launcelot slept in that wise for three full days and when he\nawoke the Lady Elaine and her father and Dame Brysen and the leech alone\nwere present. And lo! when Sir Launcelot awoke his brain was clear of\nmadness and he was himself again, though weak, like to a little child\nwho hath been ill abed.\n\n[Sidenote: _How Sir Launcelot awoke from his madness._]\n\nThat time the Lady Elaine was kneeling beside Sir Launcelot's couch and\nhers was the face he first beheld. Then Sir Launcelot said, speaking\nvery faint and weak, \"Where am I?\" and the Lady Elaine wept and said,\n\"Lord, you are safe with those who hold you very dear.\" Sir Launcelot\nsaid, \"What has befallen me?\" She said: \"Lord, thou hast been bedazed in\nthy mind and hast been sorely hurt with grievous wounds, wherefore thou\nhast been upon the very edge of death. But now thou art safe with those\nwho love thee.\"\n\nHe said, \"Have I then been mad?\" And to that they who were there said\nnaught. Then Sir Launcelot said again, \"Have I been mad?\" and thereupon\nKing Pelles said, \"Yea, Messire.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot groaned as from his soul, and he covered his face\nwith one hand (for the Lady Elaine held the other hand in hers) and he\nsaid, \"What shame! What shame!\" And therewith he groaned again.\n\n[Sidenote: _How Sir Launcelot was cherished._]\n\nThen, ever weeping, the Lady Elaine said, \"No shame, Lord, but only very\ngreat pity!\" and she kissed his hand and washed it with her tears. And\nSir Launcelot wept also because of his great weakness, and by and by he\nsaid, \"Elaine, meseems I have no hope or honor save in thee,\" and she\nsaid, \"Take peace, Sir, for in my heart there is indeed both honor for\nyou and hope for your great happiness.\" And so Sir Launcelot did take\npeace.\n\nThen after a while Sir Launcelot said, \"Who here knoweth of my madness?\"\nand King Pelles said, \"Only a very few in this castle, Messire.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot said: \"I pray you that this be all as secret as\npossible, and that no word concerning me goes beyond these walls.\" And\nKing Pelles said, \"It shall be as you would have it, Messire.\"\n\nSo it was that the news of Sir Launcelot's madness and of his recovery\nwas not carried beyond those walls.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot and Elaine commune together._]\n\nNow after a fortnight had passed, Sir Launcelot was fast becoming cured\nin body and mind. And one day he and the Lady Elaine were alone in that\nroom where he lay and he said, \"Lady, meseems you have had great cause\nto hate me.\" At this she looked upon him and smiled, and she said, \"How\ncould I hate thee, Launcelot?\" Sir Launcelot said, \"Elaine, I have done\nthee great and grievous wrong in times gone by.\" She said, \"Say naught\nof that.\" \"Yea,\" he said, \"I must say much of that, for I have this to\nsay of it, that I would that I could undo that wrong which I did thee by\nmy neglect. But what have I aught to offer thee in compensation? Naught\nbut mine own broken and beggared life. Yet that poor life and all that\nit holds dearest I would fain offer thee if only it might be a\ncompensation to thee.\"\n\nThen the Lady Elaine looked very long and intently at Sir Launcelot and\nshe said: \"Sir Launcelot, thy lips speak of duty, but that which boots\nis that thy heart should speak of duty. For if so be that thou hast ever\ndone me wrong, thou canst not hope to remove that wrong by the words of\nthy mouth. But if from thy heart thou sayst, 'I have wronged this one\nand I would fain make amends,' then indeed may that wrong be very\nquickly amended.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot smiled and he said: \"And so I have looked well into\nmy heart ere I spake to thee, and so it is my heart that speaks and not\nmy lips. For in my heart meseems I find great love for thee and certes I\nfind all honor and reverence for thee lying therein, and moving me to\neverything that I now hope to do or to perform. Now tell me, Lady, what\ncan any heart hold more than that?\" And Elaine said, \"Meseems it can\nhold no more.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot took her by the hand and drew her to him and she went\nto him, and he kissed her upon the lips and she forbade him not. So they\ntwo were reconciled in peace and happiness.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot and the Lady Elaine are wedded._]\n\nSo when Sir Launcelot was altogether healed of his sickness, they two\nwere married. And after they were married, King Pelles gave to them a\nvery noble castle for to be their dwelling-place and that castle was\ncalled the Castle of Blayne.\n\nThat castle stood upon a very beautiful island in the midst of a lake of\npure water as clear as crystal. And the island was covered over with\nmany plantations and orchards of beautiful trees of various foliages.\nAnd there were gardens and meadows upon that island and there was a town\nabout the castle so fair that when one stood upon the margin of that\nlake and gazed across the lake to the town and the castle he beheld such\na place as one may see in a shining dream.\n\nSo Sir Launcelot, because of the great peace of that island and because\nof the peace which he hoped to find there, called it the Joyous Isle,\nand so it was known of all men from that time forth.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo endeth this part of the history of Sir Launcelot with only this to\nsay. That he dwelt there in Joyous Isle in seeming peace and\ncontentment.\n\n[Sidenote: _How Sir Launcelot dwelt in Joyous Isle._]\n\nYet was it indeed peace and contentment that he felt? Alas, that it\nshould be so, but so it was that ever and anon he would remember him of\nother days of doughty deeds of glory and renown, and ever and anon he\nwould bethink him of that beautiful queen to whom he had one time\nuplifted his eyes, and of whom he had now no right to think of in that\nwise. Then his soul would up in arms and would cry out aloud: \"Let us go\nhence and seek that glory and that other's love once more! Are not all\nthy comrades waiting for thee to return, and doth not she also look for\nthee?\" Then Sir Launcelot would ever say to his soul, \"Down, proud\nspirit, and think not of these things, but of duty.\" But ever and anon\nthat spirit would arise again within him and would struggle with the\nbonds of honor that held it in check. And ever Sir Launcelot would say,\n\"That which remaineth for me is my duty and my peace of soul.\"\n\nFor indeed it is so that the will of a man is but a poor weak defence\nagainst the thoughts that arise within a stubborn heart. For, though a\nman may will to do that which is right, yet may his thoughts ever turn\nto that which is wrong; and though he may refrain from doing wrong, yet\nit is in spite of his desirings that he thus refraineth. Yea; there is\nno help for a man to contain himself within the bounds of duty, save\nonly that he hath the love of God within his heart. For only when his\nfeet are planted upon that rock may he hope to withstand the powerful\nthoughts that urge him to do that which is wrong.\n\nSo it was with Sir Launcelot at that time; for though he ever willed to\ndo that which was right, yet his desires ever called to him to depart\nfrom the paths of honor and truth in which he walked, and so he was\noftentimes much troubled in his spirit.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nPART V\n\nThe Story of Sir Ewaine and the Lady of the Fountain\n\n_Here beginneth the story of Sir Ewaine; of how he went forth to search\nfor Sir Launcelot in company with Sir Percival of Gales; of how they two\nmet Sir Sagramore in a condition of great disrepute; and of how Sir\nEwaine undertook a very strange adventure, in which he succeeded, after\ngreat danger to his life, in winning the most fair Lady of the Fountain\nfor his wife._\n\n[Illustration: Sir Gawaine, Knight of the Fountain:]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter First\n\n_How Sir Ewaine and Sir Percival departed together in quest of Sir\nLauncelot, and how they met Sir Sagramore, who had failed in a certain\nadventure. Also how Sir Sagramore told his story concerning that\nadventure._\n\n\nIt hath already been told in this book how certain knights of King\nArthur's court--to wit, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Lionel, Sir Bors de\nGanis, Sir Gawaine, Sir Ewaine, Sir Percival, Sir Sagramore the Desirous\nand Sir Agravaine went forth upon Queen Guinevere's command to search\nfor Sir Launcelot and to bring him back to the court of the King.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Ewaine ride forth together._]\n\nUpon that quest, Sir Percival and Sir Ewaine rode together for the sake\nof companionship. And they made agreement to travel together in that\nwise until the fortunes of adventure should separate them.\n\nSo they rode side by side in very pleasant companionship, taking the way\nthat chance led them, yet everywhere seeking for news of Sir Launcelot,\nof whom they could find no word of any sort.\n\nIn those days the world was very fresh and young, so that it was great\npleasure to journey in that wise, for anon they two rode beneath blue\nskies and anon through gentle showers, anon up hill and anon down dale,\nanon through countryside, anon through town, anon through forest and\nanon through wold. Yea; in those days, when the world was young, all\nthings of life were so gay and joyous that it was little wonder that\ngood knights like those twain took delight in being abroad in that wise,\nfor so they might breathe more freely, out in the wider expanses of\nGod's world, and so the spirit within them might expand to a greater joy\nof life than would be possible in court or in lady's bower.\n\nSo those two worthy gentlemen travelled as aforesaid in good-fellowship\ntogether, journeying hither or yon for a fortnight, neither hearing\naught of Sir Launcelot, or meeting with any adventure whatsoever, and\nlodging them at night at what place chance might happen to bring them.\n\n[Sidenote: _They perceive a castle in a valley._]\n\nAt the end of that time--to wit, a fortnight--they came to a certain\nhigh hill and from the summit thereof they beheld a valley that lay\nstretched out beneath them. And they beheld a fair tall castle that\nstood in the midst of that valley, and the castle was surrounded by a\nlittle town and the town was surrounded by many fair fields and\nplantations and orchards of fruit-trees. And at that time evening was\ncoming on apace, and all the golden sky was fading into a pale silver,\nwonderfully clear and fine, with a single star, like a jewel, shining in\nthe midst of the bright yet fading firmament.\n\nThen Sir Ewaine said: \"Sir, let us go down to yonder place and seek\nlodging at that fair castle, for meseems that must be a very pleasant\nplace to abide for the coming night.\" To the which Sir Percival replied,\n\"Let it be so, brother,\" and therewith they rode down into that valley\nand to that castle. And when they had reached the castle, Sir Percival\nblew his bugle horn very loud and clear, and straightway there came\nseveral of the attendants of the castle who bade them welcome and led\nthem within the gateway thereof. There, when they had arrived, came the\nmajor of the castle, and requested them that they would tell what was\ntheir name and their degree, and when the two knights had announced\nthese there was great rejoicing that two such famous champions had come\nthitherward. So several ran and took their horses in charge and others\ncame and assisted them to dismount and others again led them into the\ncastle and thence brought them each to a fair chamber, well bedight and\nwith a very cheerful outlook. Then came other attendants and assisted\neach knight to disarm and to disrobe, and after that they brought each\nto a bath of tepid water. Thereafter, when they had bathed and dried\nthemselves with fair linen towels, very soft and fragrant with lavender,\nthese same attendants brought them rich robes of silk and garments of\nsilk, and they dressed them and were at great ease and comfort.\n\nFor thus it was that good knights of old were received in such castles\nand halls wheresoever they chose to abide in that adventurous wise.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Ewaine refresh themselves at the\ncastle._]\n\nNow after Sir Ewaine and Sir Percival had refreshed themselves and\nbathed themselves and had clad themselves as aforetold, there came to\nthem a certain dignitary of the castle, who brought them word that the\nlord of the castle desired to have speech with them. So they two went\ndown with that attendant, and he brought them to the great hall of the\ncastle where was the lord thereof, standing to give them welcome. He was\na haughty and noble worthy with a long gray beard and he was clad in a\ndark purple robe embroidered with silver. When he beheld Sir Ewaine and\nSir Percival coming into that place, he hastened to meet them and give\nthem greeting and welcome beyond stint. And he said: \"Welcome, welcome,\nfair lords! Thrice welcome to this castle! For certes it is a great\nglory to us all to have you with us. Moreover, I may tell you that\nalready there is one of your fellows here at this place, and I believe\nyou will be very glad to see him.\"\n\nQuoth Sir Ewaine, \"Sir, who is it that is here?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _They hear news of Sir Sagramore._]\n\n\"It is Sir Sagramore who hath come hither,\" said the lord of the castle,\nand at that Sir Ewaine and Sir Percival cried out with amazement. And\nSir Ewaine said, \"How came Sir Sagramore hither, fair lord?\"\n\n\"I will tell you,\" said the lord of the castle. \"A little before you\ncame hitherward, there arrived at this place a knight riding without a\nshield and seated upon a white mule. This knight requested rest and\nrefreshment for the night, and upon our asking him his name and degree,\nhe at first refused to tell, for shame of his condition; yet afterward\nhe declared that he was Sir Sagramore of King Arthur's court, and a\nknight of the Round Table. He also declared that he had met with a sad\nmischance and had lost his shield and his war-horse, wherefore he was\ntravelling in that wise as I have told you.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" quoth Sir Ewaine, \"this is a very strange thing I hear, that Sir\nSagramore should be travelling in that unknightly wise. Wit you that as\nSir Sagramore is a knight of the Round Table, this matter concerns both\nSir Percival and myself very closely. Now I pray you for to let me have\nspeech with him, so that I may know why it is that he hath travelled in\nthat wise and without his knightly shield.\"\n\n\"It shall be as you command, Messire,\" said the lord of the castle,\n\"and so I will straightway send a messenger to Sir Sagramore with word\nthat you would have speech with him.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore appeareth._]\n\nSo the lord of the castle sent the messenger as he said, and anon there\ncame Sir Sagramore to where they were. But when Sir Sagramore stood\nbefore Sir Ewaine and Sir Percival, he hung his head full low, as though\nnot wishing to look those knights in the face because of shame that they\nshould find him there in such a condition. Then Sir Ewaine said to him:\n\"Sir, I pray you tell me how you came by such a mischance as this, so\nthat you ride without your shield and upon a white mule like to a\nstrolling demoiselle?\"\n\n\"Messire,\" said Sir Sagramore, \"I will tell you the whole story, for I\nwould have you know that it was through no disgrace but by mishap of\nbattle that I am come to this pass.\"\n\nQuoth Sir Ewaine, \"I may well believe that.\"\n\nThen the lord of the castle said: \"Messires, ere you talk of these\nthings I pray you to come to table and eat and drink and refresh\nyourselves. After that we may listen with a better spirit to what this\nknight has to tell us.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _They all sit at feast together._]\n\nSo that which the lord of the castle said seemed very good to those\nknights, wherefore they straightway went in to table in the hall and sat\ndown thereat. And the table was spread with all manner of meats, and\nthere was wine of divers sorts, both red and white, and they ate and\ndrank with much appetite and great good-will. Then when they were\nsatisfied as to their hunger, Sir Ewaine said to Sir Sagramore: \"Now,\nMessire, I pray you to tell us concerning that adventure which hath\nbefallen you.\"\n\nSir Sagramore said, \"I will do so.\" Then he said:\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore telleth of his adventures._]\n\n[Sidenote: _How Sir Sagramore came to a wonderful valley of\nenchantment._]\n\n\"You must know that when I travelled forth errant in search of Sir\nLauncelot, as several of my fellows did, I went forward upon my way,\nmaking diligent inquiries concerning him, but still could get no news of\nhim. So I travelled onward in that wise, ever making inquiries as\naforesaid, until two days ago, what time in the evening I came to a\ncertain place a considerable distance to the east of this. There I found\nmyself in a valley that I verily believe must be the fairest valley in\nthe world. For in that valley I beheld a very pleasant expanse of\nmeadow-lands all abloom with flowers, and I beheld many glades of trees\nof an even size, some abloom with blossoms and some full of fruit. And\nthere was a river of very clear water that flowed down through the\ncentre of the valley, and everywhere there were birds of curious\nplumage that sang very bewitchingly, so from these things I wist that\nthis valley was very likely a place of enchantment. In the midst of that\nvalley I beheld a very noble castle that was of as wonderful an\nappearance as the valley itself, so I rode forward into the valley and\napproached the castle.\n\n\"As I drew near thereunto I beheld two youths clad in flame-colored\nsatin who shot at a mark with bows and arrows. And the hair of the\nyouths was yellow and curling, and each bore a frontlet of gold upon his\nhead, and they wore upon their feet shoes of embossed leather with\nlatchets of gold upon the insteps.\n\n\"These two youths, as I drew near, gave me very courteous greeting, and\nbesought me that I would declare to them my name and degree, and I did\nso. Then they besought me that I would come with them to the castle, and\nI went with them with great content of spirit; for it seemed to me that\nthis was likely to be a very fair and cheerful place to lodge\nover-night. So I entered with those two youths into the castle, and\nthere came attendants and took my horse and there came others who\nunarmed me and led me to a bath of tepid water. After that I descended\nto the hall of that castle, and there I beheld that it was all hung with\ntapestries and fabrics of divers sorts and of very rich and beautiful\ndesigns.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore meets the Lady Vivien._]\n\n\"In that hall there were twelve ladies who sat embroidering cloth of\nsatin at a window, and I think I have hardly ever seen any ladies who\nwere so beautiful as they. Immediately I entered that room these twelve\nladies arose, and she who was the fairest amongst them came forward and\ngave me greeting. And immediately I knew that lady that she was the Lady\nVivien who beguiled the Enchanter Merlin to his undoing and his ruin.\nYet in this time, I do assure you, she has grown more beautiful than\never she was before; for her hair, which was ruddy, is now like to pure\ngold for brightness, and it was enmeshed in a golden net, and yet one\ncould not tell whether the net or the hair shone the more brightly. And\nher eyes, which are perfectly black are as bright as jewels, and her\nlips are like red corals and very fragrant, and her teeth are like to\nrich pearls. Moreover, she was clad in garments of flame-colored satin,\nand her neck and arms were adorned with ornaments of gold set with\njewels of a great many kinds and colors. And well ye wist, Messires,\nthat it was very difficult not to be altogether enchanted by her beauty\nof face and appearance.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore feasteth with the Lady Vivien._]\n\n\"Yet well knowing how this lady loved mischief, I was for a time very\nill at ease, not knowing whether or not she might be minded to cast some\nevil spell upon me. Yet she made no sign of such intent, but spake me\nvery fair and gave me courteous greeting. And she took my hand and led\nme into an adjoining apartment where there was a feast set with all\nsorts of meats and wines, and we two took our places at the board side\nby side. And as we feasted so together, there came some who sang and\nothers who made sweet music and I felt such great pleasure as I have\nhardly ever felt in all of my life before. Meanwhile, as we sat at the\ntable, the Lady Vivien conversed with me upon such matters as she deemed\nwould be of entertainment to me. And she inquired of many lords and\nladies at the court of the King and spake well of them all. Then after a\nconsiderable while she inquired of me whether it would be pleasant to me\nto tell her upon what errand I was bound, and so I told her I was errant\nin search of Sir Launcelot.\n\n\"'Ha!' quoth she, 'if thou wert in search of adventure, I could bring\nyou to one that would be well worth undertaking.'\n\n\"I said to her: 'Lady, though I am errant upon a certain business, yet I\nam very ready to stay my affairs for a while if so be I may meet with an\nadventure that may bring me any credit.'\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Vivien telleth Sir Sagramore of an adventure._]\n\n\"At that the Lady Vivien laughed, and she said: 'Sir Sagramore, I know\nnot what credit you may obtain in this adventure, but I will tell you\nwhat you are to do to enter into it. To-morrow I will ordain that one of\nthe youths who brought you hither shall conduct you to a certain path\nthat leads through the forest that lies beyond this valley. If you will\nfollow that path, you will by and by come to a mound of earth, and on\nthat mound you will very likely behold a man of gigantic stature who is\nherdsman to a herd of cattle thereabouts. Ask him where is the enchanted\nfountain, and he will direct you still farther upon the way.'\n\n\"I said to her: 'Lady, I am very much beholden to you for the\ninformation you give me, and I will very gladly take up with this\nadventure.' Upon this she laughed a very great deal and said: 'Sir\nKnight, it may be that after you have passed through this adventure, you\nwill not be so pleased either with me or with yourself. Now I have this\nto ask of you in return for my entertainment of to-night. My request is\nthat you will return hitherward to me after you have finished this\nadventure so that I may see how it hath happened with you.' I said to\nthe lady, 'It shall be as you ask.'\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore departs upon the adventure._]\n\n\"So when the next morning had come I arose very early and donned mine\narmor. And there came to me one of those youths aforetold of, and he\naided me to my horse and afterward guided me through that valley. So he\nbrought me to the borders of a woodland that lay beyond the valley and\nthere he showed me a path and bade me take that path and it would bring\nme to that adventure I sought.\n\n\"Thereafter I followed that path, and after I had gone upon the way a\nconsiderable distance I came, some time before midday, to that mound\nwhereof the lady had spoken.\n\n\"On the top of the mound there sat a man of gigantic size and so\nhideously ugly that I never beheld his like in all of my life before\nthat time. This being called to me in a voice exceedingly loud and\nrough, demanding of me whither I went and upon what business. Thereupon\nI told him that I sought a certain magic fountain and that I would be\nmuch beholden to him if he would direct me upon my way. Upon this he\nlaughed very boisterously, and after a while he said: 'Take that path\nyonder through the glade. Follow that path until you come to a hill.\nFrom the hilltop you will find before you a valley, and you will see in\nthe valley a fountain of water that flows into a small lake with many\nlilies about the margin. At the fountain is a tall tree with\nwide-spreading branches, and beneath the tree is a marble slab, and upon\nthe slab is a silver bowl attached to it by a chain of silver. Take some\nof the water of that fountain into the silver bowl and fling it upon the\nmarble slab, and I believe you will find an adventure that will satisfy\nyour desires for a very long time to come.'\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore cometh to the valley of the fountain._]\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore poureth water upon the slab._]\n\n\"So spake that gigantic oaf. I took the path to which he directed me,\nand I followed the path until I came to the hill, and I climbed the hill\nand there I beheld the valley of which he spake. And I beheld the lake\nof lilies of which he spake and I beheld the fountain that flowed into\nthe lake and I beheld the tree that overshadowed the fountain, so I\nstraightway rode down into the valley thereunto. And when I had come to\nthe tree I beheld the slab of stone and the bowl of silver just as that\ngigantic herdsman had said that I would find them. Then I dipped the\nsilver bowl into the water as he had told me to do and I flung the water\nof the fountain upon the marble slab.\n\n\"Then immediately a very singular thing happened, for lo! the earth\nbegan to tremble and to shake, and the skies began, as it were, to\nthunder, and all over the sky there spread a cloud of very great\nblackness and density so that whilst it was still midday, it began to\ngrow dark like night-time. Then there came a great wind of such strength\nthat I thought it would blow me away, and after that there fell a rain\nin such quantities and with such deluge that methought I would be\ndrowned by that rain. And the rain roared down in torrents everywhere\nthrough that valley as it were a deluge. And, as the rain fell and the\nthunder burst forth from the sky and the lightning flamed like living\nfire, I heard, as from a very great distance, the sound of many voices\nraised in lamentation.\n\n\"Then, by and by, the storm passed and the clouds disappeared and the\nsun came forth with extraordinary brightness. Then lo! there happened\nanother singular thing, for presently there came a great multitude of\nbirds flying through the air, and they lodged in that tree above the\nfountain, and they sang with such exquisite melody that methought that\nmy heart would break with the joy of their singing.\n\n\"Now whilst I sat there listening to those birds, I beheld where, a\ngreat way off, there came a horseman riding with extraordinary rapidity\nacross the plain, and as he drew nigh I beheld that he was a knight\nseated upon a black horse and clad all in black armor. This knight came\nriding very violently toward where I was, and he called out in a very\nfierce loud voice: 'Sir Knight, wherefore did you meddle with my\nfountain. Know that you have brought a great deluge upon this land, and\nfor that I am come hither to punish you. Now defend yourself from my\nanger, for it is very great.'\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore is overthrown by the Knight of the Fountain._]\n\n\"Therewith he made ready to assail me, and I upon my part immediately\nput myself into a posture of defence, and dressed my shield and my\nspear, and took post upon the meadow close to the fountain. After that I\nran a tilt against that knight and he ran against me, and he cast me out\nof my saddle with such violence that methinks I have never before felt a\nbuffet like to that which I then received.\n\n\"Having thus cast me down, he paid no more heed to me than if I had been\na billet of wood, but he took from me my shield and he laid it upon the\nsaddle of my horse and he took my horse by the rein and rode away from\nthat place, leaving me still lying upon the ground. And in departing he\nsaid not one single word to me. And indeed I do think, Messires, that I\nwas never so abashed in all my life before.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Vivien mocketh Sir Sagramore._]\n\n\"Then I remembered how that I had pledged myself to return to the Lady\nVivien, and at that I was more ashamed than ever. So, in obedience to\nthat promise, I had to make my way back whence I came on foot. When I\npassed by where was that mound, the gigantic creature who sat thereon\nmade great mock of me. And when I reached the castle, the Lady Vivien\nlooked at me out of a window and laughed at me beyond measure. And when\nI requested admission to the castle, she denied me entrance thereunto,\nand when I besought her for to lend me a horse to ride upon my way, she\ngave me instead a white mule for to bear me thence. So I returned\nhitherward upon a white mule without any shield, and thus I have\nconfessed everything to you to the last word.\"\n\nSuch was the story of Sir Sagramore, and thereunto all those who were\nthere listened with great attention and with much amazement. Then Sir\nEwaine spake, saying: \"That was a very great shame that was put upon\nyou, Messire; and I take it so greatly to heart that had I suffered it\nin my own person methinks I could not feel much greater shame than I do.\nFor that which hath befallen you is, as it were, a despite put upon all\nof us who are knights of the Round Table. Wherefore, being a fellow of\nthat company, your despite is my despite also. As for that mischievous\nLady Vivien, methinks that she is at the bottom of all this coil, and I\nam much misled if this hath not all been devised by her to bring shame\nupon you who are a knight of King Arthur's court and of the Round\nTable.\"\n\nQuoth Sir Percival, \"That may very well be so, Messire.\"\n\nThen Sir Ewaine said: \"Well, Messires, as for me, I am of no mind to sit\ndown quietly under this affront.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Sagramore, \"what would you do?\"\n\n\"I would do this,\" said Sir Ewaine. \"I would go upon that same quest in\nwhich you have failed, and if I succeed therein, then will the shame of\nyour mischance be wiped away from us all.\"\n\nThus spake Sir Ewaine with great feeling; for you are to know that those\nnoble knights of the Round Table were so closely knit into brotherly\nfellowship that whatsoever ill thing befell to the injury of one was in\nthat same measure an injury to all, and that whatsoever quarrel was\ntaken up by one of that company, was a quarrel appertaining to all.\nWherefore it was the injury that had been done to Sir Sagramore was also\nan injury done to Sir Ewaine, and so it was that Sir Ewaine felt himself\ncalled upon to undertake that adventure in which Sir Sagramore had\nfailed as aforesaid.\n\nThen Sir Ewaine said: \"Now I prithee tell me where that path is that may\nbring me to this adventure and to-morrow I will part from you and will\nmyself enter upon it. Meantime, do you both resume your quest of Sir\nLauncelot, and if I should not prosper in this undertaking, I will\nreturn hither and leave report of my happenings. Wherefore at this place\nyou may, at any time, easily hear what hath befallen me if you will come\nhither.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine departeth upon the Adventure of the Fountain._]\n\nSo Sir Sagramore gave Sir Ewaine such directions for that adventure as\nwere necessary and after that they all went to bed to rest them after\ntheir travails of the day. And when the next morning had come and while\nthe dew still lay upon the grass, shining like to a thin veil of fine,\nbright silver spread over the level meadow-lands, Sir Ewaine arose all\nin the freshness of the early daytime and busked him whilst the rest of\nthe castle still lay fast asleep. And he donned his armor and went down\nand aroused the sleeping groom and gave command that his horse should be\nbrought to him; and after the groom had apparelled his horse he mounted\nand rode forth upon that way which Sir Sagramore had advised him would\nlead him toward the castle of the Lady Vivien.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd now if you would know how Sir Ewaine prospered in that undertaking\nwhich he had assumed, I pray you to read further in this history and you\nshall hear how it befell with him.\n\n[Illustration: Sir Ewaine poureth water on the slab:]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Second\n\n_How Sir Ewaine undertook that adventure in which Sir Sagramore had\nfailed, and how it sped with him thereafter._\n\n\nThus it was that Sir Ewaine departed upon that adventure whilst Sir\nPercival and Sir Sagramore were still asleep, and no one wist of his\ngoing saving only the groom. After he wended his way from that place\nuntil he had come to the woodlands, and he entered the woodlands and\ntravelled therein for a long while, breaking his fast with the charcoal\nburners whom he found there at a curious place. About the middle of the\nmorning he came to a high hill, and when he had climbed this hill he\nbeheld before him a very strangely beautiful valley, and he beheld that\nin the midst of the valley there stood a wonderful castle, and he wist\nthat this must be the castle of the Lady Vivien of which Sir Sagramore\nhad aforetold of.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine cometh to the castle of the Lady Vivien._]\n\nAnd Sir Ewaine was astonished at the wonderful appearance of that castle\nand the valley in which it stood. For this castle was bright and shining\nas though of polished stone, and the roofs thereof were of bright red\ntile variegated with dark green tiles and black tiles, laid in sundry\nfigures and patterns very strange to behold. And the valley in which the\ncastle stood was spread out with fair lawns and gardens and meadow-lands\nand plantations of comely trees. And everywhere there were flowers\nabloom in incredible quantities, and there were thousands of birds of\nbright plumage that sang in the trees throughout the valley, so that the\nmultitudinous sounds of their singing came even to Sir Ewaine where he\nsat so far distant. And ever those birds flitted like bright sparks of\ncolor hither and thither through the foliage of the trees, and Sir\nEwaine had never beheld their like before in all of his life. So because\nof the wonderfulness of all that he beheld, Sir Ewaine wist that this\nmust be a land of faery and enchantment with which the Lady Vivien had\nsurrounded her castle and herself and her court. So for a while Sir\nEwaine sat there observing all these things, and after a while he set\nspurs to horse and rode down into that valley and toward the castle.\n\nNow when Sir Ewaine had come pretty near to the castle, he beheld two\nyouths with golden hair, clad in garments of flame-colored satin, and he\nknew that these must be the two fair youths of whom Sir Sagramore had\nspoken. And he saw that those two youths were playing at ball under the\nwalls of the castle just as Sir Sagramore had beheld them when he had\nvisited that place.\n\nThese, when Sir Ewaine drew nigh, ceased their play, and he who was the\nchief of the twain came forward and greeted that noble knight with great\ncourtesy, saying: \"Sir Knight, you are very welcome to these parts where\nnot many ever come. For she who is the lady of this castle ever takes\npleasure in giving welcome to such as you who come thitherward. Now I\npray you of your courtesy to tell me who you are and upon what quest you\nare bound and what is your degree, for I would fain announce you with\nall dignity to the lady of the castle.\"\n\nQuoth Sir Ewaine: \"Fair youth, you are to know that I am a knight of\nKing Arthur's court, and that I am a fellow of the Round Table. My name\nis Sir Ewaine, and I am King Uriens' son of Gore, my mother being Queen\nMorgana le Fay. As for your lady, I know very well who she is, and that\nshe is none other than the Enchantress Vivien. Moreover, I know that she\nis not at all above devising mischief against me because I am a knight\nof King Arthur and of his Round Table. Yet I will that you bring me\nbefore this lady, for I would fain have speech with her.\"\n\nUpon this, so boldly said by Sir Ewaine, those two fair youths were\nadoubt, wherefore they withdrew a little to one side and held\nconsultation together. Then he who had before spoken to Sir Ewaine spake\nagain, saying: \"Messire, I trust you have it not in your mind to do any\nill to the lady of this castle, for unless we are well assured upon that\npoint we will not bring you to her.\"\n\n\"Rest ye easy,\" quoth Sir Ewaine; \"I am a true knight, and mean no ill\nto any lady, be she evil or good. Only I would have speech with her as\npresently as may be.\"\n\nThen the youth who was the speaker for the two said, \"Sir, I will take\nyou to her.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine cometh to the Lady Vivien._]\n\nSo forthwith that youth led the way into the enchanted castle and Sir\nEwaine followed closely after him. And after they had come unto the\ncastle and after Sir Ewaine had dismounted from his horse and after they\nhad traversed various spaces, the youth brought Sir Ewaine to where the\nLady Vivien was. And she was in her own fair bower with her eleven\ndamsels gathered about her.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Vivien giveth welcome to Sir Ewaine._]\n\nNow the news of the coming of Sir Ewaine had gone before him, so that\nwhen he came to the Lady Vivien she arose from her seat and went forward\nto meet him and received him with her face all wreathed with smiles. And\nshe said: \"Welcome! Welcome! Thrice welcome, Sir Ewaine! Now I pray you\nto let my attendants conduct you to a fair room where you may bathe and\nrefresh yourself, for we would fain have you stay with us at this place\nfor a day or two or three if so be you will favor us so greatly.\"\n\nBut Sir Ewaine neither smiled nor made acknowledgment of any sort;\notherwise he spake with great sternness, saying: \"Fair Lady, I know you\nwell, and I know that you have no very good will toward us who are of\nKing Arthur's court. I know that you continually devise mischief and\nenchantments against all who come near you, and I well believe that\ncould you do so without danger to yourself, you would this moment\npractise mischiefs against me. Nevertheless, I am not come hither to\nchide you because of your shortcomings, for though all those things are\nwell known to me and to others, yet I leave it to God to judge you in\nHis own wisdom and am not come hither to be myself your judge. What I\nhave come for is this: not long since you sent my fellow, Sir Sagramore,\nupon an adventure that brought great shame upon him. Now I pray you that\nyou will direct me to that same adventure so that I may undertake it,\nfor, if so be I have that good fortune, I would fain punish that\ndiscourteous knight who so shamed my companion at arms.\"\n\nThen the Lady Vivien laughed very high and shrill. \"Sir,\" quoth she,\n\"you are very brave for to undertake that adventure wherein so good a\nknight as Sir Sagramore failed so signally. Gladly will I direct you\nupon your way, and all that I ask in return is that when you have sped\nin that adventure, you will also return hither as did Sir Sagramore, so\nthat I may bestow a white mule upon you as I bestowed one to him.\"\n\nTo this Sir Ewaine bowed his head very gravely and said: \"Be it so. Show\nme the way to that adventure, and if I fail therein, then I will submit\nmyself to you so that you may humiliate me as you humiliated Sir\nSagramore.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine entereth into the Adventure of the Fountain._]\n\nThen the Lady Vivien called to her that youth who had afore spoken to\nSir Ewaine, and she bade him set Sir Ewaine upon the path that should\nlead him to that adventure he sought. And after that Sir Ewaine left the\nLady Vivien without any further word and he took horse and departed\nthence. And that fair youth with the golden hair went before Sir Ewaine\nto the skirts of the forest that lay upon the other side of the valley\nfrom that side upon which Sir Ewaine had entered it. Then the youth\nshowed Sir Ewaine a certain path that led into the forest and he said:\n\"Take that path, fair lord, and it will bring you to your adventure.\"\n\nSo Sir Ewaine took the path as the youth directed and he travelled upon\nit for an hour or two and by and by he came to an open place in the\nwoodland. And in the midst of that open place there was a high mound of\nearth covered with fair green grass and many sheep browsed upon the\nslopes of the mound and coadjacent thereunto. And on the mound there sat\nthe being of whom Sir Sagramore had spoken, and Sir Ewaine was amazed at\nhis hideous aspect. For he was of giant stature and swarthy black, and\nhis hair was red as brick. His mouth gaped wide like a cavern and the\nteeth within were sharp like the teeth of a wild beast.\n\nTo this creature Sir Ewaine spake, saying, \"Sirrah, whither shall I go\nto find that Adventure of the Fountain?\"\n\nUpon this that giant being laughed like the pealing of thunder and he\nsaid: \"Ho! little man, have you come also to that adventure? The day\nbefore yesterday one came hither and sped but ill, and so also, I doubt\nnot, it will fare with you. Take you yonder path, and I believe you will\ncome to that adventure all too soon for your own good.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine cometh to the valley of the fountain._]\n\nSo Sir Ewaine took the path that that being directed, and so entering\nthe woodlands again he rode for a long while through the thick forests.\nThen after a while he came to a hill and he ascended the hill, and when\nhe had reached the top thereof he found that the forest ceased and that\nthe open country lay spread out before him and he beheld a fair and\nlevel valley lying beneath the hill. And he beheld that the valley was\nvery fertile with many fields and plantations of fair trees. And Sir\nEwaine beheld in that valley a lake and a fountain that flowed into the\nlake and a tree that overshadowed the fountain, and he wist that this\nwas the place where Sir Sagramore had met with that adventure aforetold\nof. So straightway he rode down into that valley and toward that place\nwhere was the enchanted fountain overshadowed by the tree. And when he\nreached that place he beheld the slab of stone and the silver bowl\nchained to the slab by a silver chain just as Sir Sagramore had beheld\nthose things.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine casteth water upon the slab._]\n\nThen Sir Ewaine took the silver bowl into his hand and he dipped up\nwater therein from the fountain, and he flung the water upon the marble\nslab as Sir Sagramore had done.\n\nThen straightway it befell as it had with Sir Sagramore, for first the\nearth began to tremble and to quake and then the sky began to thunder,\nand then there arose a great cloud that overspread the sky, so that it\nbecame all black like unto night time, although it was still the middle\nof the day. Then there came the great wind, the like of which Sir Ewaine\nhad never before known in all his life, for it blew with such strength\nof fury that he was afraid it would blow him away from that place. Then\nthere fell such a deluge of rain that he feared he would be drowned\ntherewith. And whilst the rain fell in that wise he heard a multitude of\nvoices in lamentation as though a great way off, just as Sir Sagramore\nhad heard these voices.\n\nAnon the rain ceased and the clouds passed away, and the sun came forth\nand shone with wonderful warmth and brightness, and thereupon a great\nflock of small birds came flying to that tree and perched in the\nbranches thereof so that the tree was entirely filled with the multitude\nof feathered creatures gathered there. And that multitude of birds began\nto sing in such a wise, that when Sir Ewaine listened to that singing he\nwist not whether he were in paradise or upon earth, so sweet and\npiercing was the melody of their singing. And all these things befell\nwith Sir Ewaine as they had befallen aforetime with Sir Sagramore.\n\nNow, whilst Sir Ewaine stood listening in that wise, all bewitched by\nthe singing of those birds, he was aware of one who came riding very\nrapidly toward him across the plain. And as that rider drew nigh unto\nSir Ewaine, he beheld that he was a knight clad all in black armor and\nseated upon a great charger which was entirely black and which was hung\nwith trappings as black as any raven. And the knight bore a shield which\nwas altogether black and without any device whatsoever. And he was of a\nvery terrible appearance, being huge of form and violent and fierce in\nhis advance.\n\nThis black knight, when he had come close to that place where Sir Ewaine\nawaited him, cried out in a great voice: \"Sir Knight, why didst thou\ncome hither to meddle with my fountain? Know thou that thou hast brought\na great deluge upon all this land so that thou hast wrought great damage\nto us who are the people thereof. But now thou shalt pay very dearly for\nthe injury thou hast done. Prepare thyself straightway for battle!\"\n\nUnto this Sir Ewaine made reply: \"Sir Knight, I wist not that in\nthrowing water upon yonder slab I was doing injury to thee or to any\none. Nevertheless, I am ready to meet thee in battle as thou dost make\ndemand.\" Therewith Sir Ewaine dressed his shield and his spear and took\nhis station in the meadow near the fountain and beside the lake, and put\nhimself in such array for defence as he was able.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine doeth battle with the Knight of the Fountain._]\n\nSo when they both had prepared themselves in all ways they let go their\nhorses the one against the other, in very violent assault, rushing\ntogether like a whirlwind. And so they met together in the midst of the\ncourse with an uproar as of thunder; the one smiting against the other\nwith such violence that the spear of each was burst all into pieces unto\nthe very truncheon thereof. And in that assault both knights would\nassuredly have been overthrown excepting for the wonderful address of\neach. For each drave spur into steed and shouted aloud so that each\ncharger recovered his feet and fell not. Then each knight threw away the\ntruncheon of his spear and each drew his sword and straightway fell to\nbattle with might and main. And in that combat each knight gave the\nother many sore buffets and, for a long while, no one could have told\nhow that encounter was like to go.\n\nBut at last Sir Ewaine waxed very furious with the opposition of that\nother knight, wherefore he arose in his stirrups and lashed at that\nblack knight such a buffet that nor guard nor shield nor helm could\nwithstand the stroke. For under that blow the black Knight of the\nFountain reeled in his saddle as though he would fall from his horse.\nThen he drooped his shield and hung his head full low and catched at the\nhorn of his saddle as though to stay himself from falling. Herewith Sir\nEwaine lashed another buffet at him, and with that blow the sword of Sir\nEwaine pierced through the helmet of the black knight and deep into his\nbrain pan and with that stroke the black knight received his mortal\nhurt.\n\nThen Sir Ewaine, perceiving that the black knight was so sorely hurt,\nrepented him of what he had done in the heat of his battle and stayed\nhis hand, though all too late. And he cried out: \"Sir Knight, I fear me\nthat I have given thee a very woeful hurt. I repent me of that, so yield\nthou thyself to me, and forthwith I will look to thy wound and will give\nthee such ease as I may.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Knight of the Fountain fleeth from Sir Ewaine._]\n\nBut to this the black Knight of the Fountain made no reply. Otherwise he\nimmediately wheeled his horse about, and set spurs to flank, and drove\naway with all speed from that place. And so rapidly did he race away\nfrom the field of battle that he appeared to fly, as it were, like to\nthe shadow of a bird across the plain.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine pursueth the Black Knight._]\n\nAt first Sir Ewaine was altogether amazed at the suddenness of the\nflight of the Black Knight, but presently he awoke and set spurs to his\nhorse and sped away in pursuit as fast as he could race his horse\nforward. And ever Sir Ewaine pursued the Black Knight in that wise and\ncalled upon him to stay, and ever the Black Knight fled all the more\nrapidly away as though he heard not the voice of Sir Ewaine. And ever\nthough he strove, Sir Ewaine could not reach the Black Knight in his\nflight.\n\nThus they sped as swift as the wind across the plain, the Black Knight\nfleeing and Sir Ewaine pursuing, and by and by Sir Ewaine was aware that\nthey were approaching a walled town and a very tall and noble castle\nwith many high towers, and steep roofs that overlooked the houses of the\ntown. And Sir Ewaine perceived that many people were running hither and\nthither about the castle as though in great disturbance, and that many\npeople were upon the walls of the town, watching the Black Knight and\nhim as they drew nigh. And ever the knight rode toward the gate of the\ntown and of the castle, speeding like the wind, and ever Sir Ewaine\npursued him without being able to overtake him. So, in a little while,\nthe Black Knight reached the drawbridge of the gate and he thundered\nacross the drawbridge and Sir Ewaine thundered after him.\n\nNow as the knight had approached the gateway of the town the portcullis\nhad been lifted for to admit him, and so he rode through the gateway\nwith all speed. But when Sir Ewaine would have followed, the portcullis\nwas let fall for to keep him without.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine is caught within the portcullis of the town._]\n\nYet so great was the fury of Sir Ewaine's chase and so closely did he\nfollow the Black Knight in pursuit that he was within the portcullis as\nit fell. And the portcullis fell upon the horse of Sir Ewaine and smote\nhim just behind the saddle and cut him in twain, so that the half of the\nhorse fell within the portcullis and the other half of the horse fell\nwithout the castle. And so violent was the blow of the falling of the\nportcullis, and so sudden the fall of the horse, that Sir Ewaine was\nflung down to the ground with so dreadful and terrible a shock that he\nlay in a swoon as though he had been killed.\n\nSo as Sir Ewaine lay there, there came a number of those who were in\nattendance at that part of the castle. These looked in through a wicket\nof iron and beheld Sir Ewaine where he lay in that swoon in the space\nbetween the portcullis and the inner gate. So when they beheld him lying\nthus with the half of his dead horse, they said: \"Behold! yonder is the\nman who wounded our champion and who pursued him hither. Let him lie\nwhere he is until that our champion tells us what we shall do unto him.\nFor lo! he is a prisoner here and cannot escape from our hands, and so\nwe have it in our power to do with him whatsoever we please.\"\n\nThus they said, not knowing that even at that time their champion was\nlying very nigh to death because of the wound he had received at the\nhands of Sir Ewaine.\n\nSo these went away from that place, leaving Sir Ewaine lying as though\ndead in the swoon that his violent fall had caused him. But after a\nwhile life came back to him and he opened his eyes and gazed about him,\nand after that he made shift to arise, though with great pain. Then he\nbeheld that he was a prisoner at that place, and that he lay with the\nhalf of his dead horse betwixt the portcullis and the inner gate of the\ncastle so that he could neither get into the castle nor out but was\nthere a prisoner like to a creature caught in a trap.\n\nThen Sir Ewaine went to the wicket of the inner gate and he looked forth\nthrough the iron bars of the wicket for to see what sort of a place it\nwas into which he had come. And he beheld that within the gate was the\nstreet of the town. And he perceived that the street was very steep and\nthat it was cobbled with stones. And he beheld that the houses of the\ntown that stood upon either side of the street were built either of\nbrick or else of stone, and that they were fair and tall with\noverhanging gables and with shining windows of glass and roofs of bright\nred tiles. And he beheld that there were many booths and stores with\nfair fabrics and merchandise displayed for sale. And he saw that there\nwere many people in the street but that all they were moving in one\ndirection as though in great agitation. And as he stood, so gazing, he\nwas aware of a great sound of lamentation that arose from all parts of\nthe town, wherefore he thought that maybe the knight whom he had chased\nthither must now be lying nigh to death. At that he was much grieved,\nfor not only was that a very noble and valorous knight, but his death\nwould certes put Sir Ewaine himself into great jeopardy as soon as the\npeople of the castle should come to deal with him in that place where he\nwas now a prisoner.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd now followeth the history of the further adventures of Sir Ewaine as\nit is told in the books of chivalry that relate to these happenings, so\nI pray you to read that which followeth if that other which hath gone\nbefore hath been pleasing to you.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: The Damsel Elose giveth a ring to Sir Ewaine:]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Third\n\n_How a damsel, hight Elose, who was in service with the Lady Lesolie of\nthe Fountain, brought succor to Sir Ewaine in his captivity._\n\n\nSo Sir Ewaine stood gazing out of the wicket of the gate as aforetold;\nand he wist not what to do to save his life; for he knew he could do\nnaught but wait there until those who had to deal with him might come to\nslay him.\n\nNow, as he stood thuswise in great trouble of spirit, he was aware of a\ndamsel who came thitherward. And as that damsel approached, Sir Ewaine\nperceived that she was very comely of appearance, and that she had\nyellow curling hair and it seemed to Sir Ewaine that he had hardly ever\nbeheld a damsel more fair than she who approached his place of\ncaptivity.\n\nThis damsel came close to the wicket where Sir Ewaine stood, and she\ngazed upon his face and her own face was pitiful and kind, and neither\nangry nor scornful. Then Sir Ewaine, beholding that her face was kind,\nsaid to her: \"Damsel, why do you come to gaze thus upon a poor captive\nwho is waiting for his death?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Damsel of the Fountain pitieth Sir Ewaine._]\n\nTo this the damsel made reply: \"Alas, Sir Knight, I come hither because\nI take great pity that a noble champion such as you appear to be should\nbe in so sad a case as this. For certes the people of this castle will\ncome to slay you in a very little while.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" said Sir Ewaine, \"thy pity is a great comfort to me, but it\nwould be a still greater comfort if thou couldst help me to escape from\nthis place.\"\n\nTo this the damsel made no reply. But presently she said: \"Tell me, Sir\nKnight, why did you do so grievous a hurt to our knight-champion who was\nthe defender of this land against those who would meddle with the\nfountain to bring a deluge upon our land. Wit you that because of the\nwoeful buffets you gave him he lieth so near to death that he is like to\ndie in a few hours.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" said Sir Ewaine, \"to tell you the very truth, I meant not to\nbring an injury upon this land, neither did I mean to visit so grievous\na hurt as I did upon that good worthy knight your champion. But first I\nentered upon this adventure because a fellow of mine failed in it and\nbecause I deemed that it behooved me to redeem with mine own hand the\nhonor he had lost to your champion. As for the hurts which he suffered\nat my hand--wit you that when a knight fights in battle with another\nknight, as I fought of late with your champion, that one knoweth not how\nhard he smites until the mischief is done. So it was with me, and when I\nsmote I smote in the heat and the passion of battle. Then, when I\nperceived that I had hurt him so sorely I pursued your knight with\nintent to help him whom I had so sadly hurt. But ever your\nknight-champion fled away from me, so that at last I pursued him in\nanger; wherefore I rushed into this place without thinking, and so am\ncaught here a helpless prisoner.\"\n\nThen the damsel said, \"Sir Knight, I pray you tell me what is your name\nand your degree?\" To the which Sir Ewaine made reply: \"My name is Sir\nEwaine and I am King Uriens' son of Gore, and my mother is Queen\nMorgana, surnamed Le Fay.\"\n\nNow when the damsel heard this announcement of the name and the degree\nof Sir Ewaine, she made great admiration, crying out: \"Is it then\npossible that so famous a knight as thou art, and one so renowned in all\nthe world both of chivalry and of common history, shouldst be caught a\nprisoner in this wise?\" And she regarded Sir Ewaine through the aperture\nof the gate with very great wonder, and by and by she regarded him with\nstill greater pity. Then after a little, she said: \"Sir Knight Ewaine, I\ntake great sorrow that so worthy a knight as thou art shouldst suffer\nharm. Now I am of a great mind for to help thee if thou wilt do my\nbidding in all things that I shall ordain for thee to do. For if I\nrelease thee from thy captivity, there are several things I would have\nthee do upon my commandment.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" said Sir Ewaine, \"I believe that you mean me well, and I believe\nthat you would not lay any command upon me that would be contrary to my\nknightly honor or my integrity as a right knight of royal blood to\nfulfill.\" And the damsel said: \"Take no thought that I intend ill faith\nagainst thee, Sir Ewaine, for instead I am of a mind to be thy friend in\nthis affair if so be thou wilt put thy trust in me.\"\n\nThen Sir Ewaine said: \"Lady, I yield myself to your will, and if you\nwill set me free from this captivity I will do whatsoever you ordain for\nme to perform. But tell me, how mean ye for to bring me forth from this\nperil unless you may get the keys of this gate from the porter\nthereof?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The damsel giveth succor to Sir Ewaine._]\n\n\"Sir,\" said the damsel, \"I cannot get those keys but I have another way\nthan that to set you free. For wit you that though locks and bars be\nstrong, yet the power of enchantment is still stronger than they.\" With\nthis the damsel drew from her bosom a locket that hung there by a chain\nof gold, and she opened the locket and she brought forth therefrom a\nring set with a clear red stone like to a pure ruby--bright--shining and\nvery brilliant. And she said, \"See you this ring?\" and Sir Ewaine said,\n\"Yea.\" \"Well, Messire,\" said she, \"this is a very wonderful ring, for it\nhath had many potent spells set upon it by the magician Merlin, who gave\nit in days gone by to my father, King Magnus of Leograns. So my father\ngave it to me and it is the most precious thing of all my possessions.\nFor the property of this ring is of such a sort that if you turn the\nstone inward upon your hand so as to hide it within your palm, then you\nshall become invisible; and if you turn the stone out upon your hand\nagain, then you shall become visible as you were before. Take this ring,\nSir Ewaine, and when you have made yourself invisible by means of it,\nthen you shall escape from your enemies. After you have so escaped, come\nyou to the garden of this castle and I will be there. Do you come and\nlay your hand upon my shoulder, and then I will know you are there.\nAfter that I will then conduct you to a certain apartment where you\nshall be privily lodged until this present danger hath passed.\"\n\nTherewith speaking, the damsel gave the ring to Sir Ewaine and he took\nit, giving her thanks beyond measure for her kindness to him. And\nimmediately he set the ring upon his finger and turned the stone inward\nso as to hide it in his palm. Then lo! as soon as he had done that he\nbecame immediately invisible to the eyes.\n\nThen the damsel Elose fled away from that place, lest those who would\ncome to slay Sir Ewaine should find her there talking to him.\n\nSo, shortly after she had gone, there came a great party of armed men\nwith intent to slay Sir Ewaine, and some of these were armed and all\nbore swords and guisarms. These came to the gate and flung it open, and\nrushed into the space between it and the portcullis with a great tumult,\nfor they expected to find Sir Ewaine there and to slay him. But lo! he\nwas gone and they beheld nothing there but the half of his dead horse\nand the saddle and the bridle and the trappings thereof. For there was\nneither sight nor sign of him anywhere to be seen.\n\nAt that they were all amazed beyond measure to find their prisoner gone,\nfor they wist not how he could have escaped from that place. So they\nraised a great tumult and some cried out to hurry hither and others to\nhurry thither, and in the tumult and confusion Sir Ewaine passed out\nfrom their midst and none of them were aware of his going.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine escapeth from the gateway._]\n\nAfter that Sir Ewaine went away from that place and into the town within\nthe walls. And he came to the castle of the town and no one saw him in\nhis going. And he entered the castle and the people of the castle saw\nhim not.\n\n[Sidenote: _How Sir Ewaine entereth the garden of the castle._]\n\nSo, invisible to all, Sir Ewaine went to the privy garden of the castle,\nand he perceived that that was a very pleasant place, with many shady\ntrees and with plats of flowers and with fountains and long straight\nwalks where the lady of the castle might take her pleasure when she\nchose to be out of doors. And Sir Ewaine entered that garden and he\nperceived that there were several damsels therein and that all they were\nvery sorrowful and downcast because that the knight-champion of that\nplace had been slain, and several of them wept. But amongst these\ndamsels was the damsel Elose, and she alone of all who were there was\ncheerful and bore a smiling countenance.\n\nThen Sir Ewaine went to her and laid his hand upon her shoulder as she\nhad bidden him to do, and thereupon she knew that he was there though\nshe could not see him. So straightway she arose and went forth from out\nof the garden and Sir Ewaine followed her.\n\nAfter that the damsel led Sir Ewaine to a certain part of the castle and\nup a long flight of steps and so brought him to an apartment that was\nimmediately beneath the eaves of a certain part of the tower of the\ncastle.\n\nAnd Sir Ewaine beheld that here was a large and noble apartment hung\nwith woven hangings representing pictures of battle and of court, and he\nbeheld that the floor was spread with finely woven fabrics of divers\nsorts. And he saw that there were several large windows that overlooked\nthe streets of the town and a fair prospect beyond. And the breeze blew\ninto those windows very softly and pleasantly, and great flocks of\npigeons flew about in the air with noisy and clapping flight, and\nnumbers of other pigeons strutted on the tiles of the roof and bridled\nand cooed to each other in the red sunlight of the waning day. So this\nwas a very pleasant place in which to dwell. And the damsel said to Sir\nEwaine, \"Here shall you abide until my further purpose is ripe.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The damsel serveth Sir Ewaine._]\n\nThen the damsel Elose brought an ewer full of tepid water and she poured\nthe water into a basin, and the ewer and the basin were both of them of\nsilver. And the damsel held the basin and Sir Ewaine bathed his hands\nand his face, and after that she gave him a large napkin of fine white\nlinen and he dried his hands and his face thereon. So, when he was thus\nrefreshed she brought him food and drink, and Sir Ewaine ate and drank\nwith much appetite and was greatly uplifted in spirit. And by that time\nthe evening was come.\n\nNow all this while Sir Ewaine was greatly astonished that the damsel\nshould be so kind to him, wherefore he said, \"Damsel, why art thou so\nkind to me?\" To this she made reply: \"Messire, I have a purpose in all\nthis, that by and by and in good season I will unfold to thee.\"\n\nThen Sir Ewaine said to her: \"I pray you, fair damsel, tell me now the\nmystery of that fountain and of the knight who guarded it? For I am very\ncurious to know why there came that quaking of the earth and that\nthundering and rain when I cast water upon the slab beside the\nfountain.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Elose, \"I will tell you that mystery.\" And so she did, as\nfolloweth:\n\n[Sidenote: _The damsel telleth Sir Ewaine of the enchantment of the\nfountain._]\n\n\"You are to know,\" quoth she, \"that somewhile ago there was appointed a\njoust at a place not very distant from this. And to that joust there\nwent the lady of this castle who is hight the Lady Lesolie. Thither also\nwent the Lady Vivien, of whom thou either knowest or hast heard tell,\nfor she is one of the greatest and most mischievous enchantresses in all\nof the world.\n\n\"At that jousting there was one knight who distinguished himself above\nall others, and he was Sir Sagron surnamed Coeur de Fer. For that\nnoble knight won the battle of the joust, overthrowing all who came\nagainst him without once suffering defeat himself. So to him was awarded\nthe prize of battle, which prize was a fillet of gold. This fillet the\nvictor had the right to bestow upon the lady whom he deemed the fairest\nof all who were there.\n\n\"Now the Lady Vivien thought that she would be chosen by whomsoever won\nthat prize, for that day she had put on all the enchantments of beauty\nthat she possessed. Nevertheless, and in spite of these charms, Sir\nSagron bestowed the prize of beauty, not upon the Lady Vivien, but upon\nthe Lady Lesolie, who is the countess of this castle where we are.\n\n\"Now when the Lady Vivien saw that she was passed over by Sir Sagron,\nshe took great affront with Lady Lesolie who had been chosen, and vowed\nvengeance upon her.\n\n\"So afterward by her enchantments she had that slab of stone laid by the\nfountain and she ordained that whensoever any one should cast the water\nof the fountain upon the slab then there would come a great deluge to\nthis land. Thereafter she established herself not very far distant from\nthis valley of the fountain, and whenever a knight cometh by her castle,\nthat knight she sets upon the adventure of the fountain.\n\n[Sidenote: _Of Sir Sagron of the Fountain._]\n\n\"Meantime Sir Sagron had offered himself as champion of the fountain,\nundertaking to defend it if the Lady Lesolie would upon her part consent\nto wed him and make him lord of this domain. To this the lady was\nconstrained to say yea. So it was ordained that if Sir Sagron would\ndefend the fountain without fail or default for the space of a year and\na day, after that time she would give herself and all her domain to him\nas the lord thereof. So Sir Sagron hath ever since defended the fountain\nwith great honor until to-day, when you overcame him in battle, and\npursued him hither wounded unto death. Had he defended a fortnight\nlonger, he had won his suit with the Lady Lesolie and would have been\nlord of this land. But now he will to-morrow awake in Paradise.\n\n\"This, Sir Ewaine, is the story of the mystery of the fountain, and now\nI tell thee I know not who will defend it unless haply it is thou who\nwilt do so.\"\n\n\"Fair damsel,\" quoth Sir Ewaine, \"how may I look to defend the fountain\nwho will immediately be slain if it be known that I am here?\"\n\nTo this the damsel laughed and said: \"Sir Ewaine, all that may come\nabout if fortune be with me in these matters I am about to undertake.\"\n\nNow by this time the darkness being come, the damsel lit two tapers of\nperfumed wax, and thereafter she conducted Sir Ewaine into another\napartment. There he beheld a couch, very soft and comfortable and spread\nwith a coverlet of crimson satin. And the damsel Elose said: \"Sir\nEwaine, doubtless thou art aweary. If that be so, here thou mayst rest\nthyself and be at ease.\" And therewith she set down the candles of wax\nupon a table and quitted the room and Sir Ewaine was left alone.\n\nAnd Sir Ewaine was very weary, wherefore he laid aside his armor and\ndisrobed himself and laid himself down upon that fair soft bed with\ngreat joy of comfort. And straightway thereafter he fell asleep as\nthough he were a little weary child.\n\nNow about the twelfth hour of the night and whilst Sir Ewaine lay thus\nasleep, he became aware of a great disturbance--the sound of weeping and\na great outcry of lamentation that filled the entire silence of the\nnight.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine beholdeth the funeral at night._]\n\nAnon came the damsel Elose, and she said: \"Sir Ewaine, the knight Sir\nSagron is dead whom thou wounded yesterday, and now they are bearing him\nto the church. Come and see!\" So Sir Ewaine arose quickly and covered\nhimself with a cloak, and he went with the damsel to a certain window\nthat overlooked a street of the town. From that window and beneath him\nhe beheld a great concourse of people that filled the entire street.\nMany of those were clad in armor of proof and others bare torches so\nthat the entire night was aflame with the light thereof. And there were\nmany women who rode upon horseback beside the armed knights. And all of\nthis great assembly of people were crying out in lamentation so that it\nwas as though all the hollow beneath the space of heaven were full of\nthe voice of their sorrow. With this lamentation of many voices were\nmingled the sound of trumpets and the chaunting of priests and acolytes\nwho recited the services for the dead. In the midst of all the press\nthere was a bier, and over the bier there had been spread a veil of\nwhite linen and upon the bier there lay stretched the knight-champion of\nthat place with his hands crossed upon his sword. All about the bier\nwere many people carrying long candles of wax, and these also added\ntheir lamentation to the voices of those others who lamented.\n\nThen when Sir Ewaine beheld this spectacle he said: \"Woe is me, Elose,\nthis is surely a very sorry sight to behold! Now I grieve me greatly\nthat I am the cause of this, for I meant not to slay that knight. Yet in\nthe heat of battle who may stay the hand for to measure the stroke that\none giveth to his enemy?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine beholdeth the Lady Lesolie of the Fountain._]\n\nThen anon as Sir Ewaine still gazed upon that scene, he beheld that a\nlady followed after the bier, and he saw that her hair was hanging loose\nand that she was in great disarray. But maugre that, it appeared to him\nthat she was the most beautiful lady his eyes had ever looked upon. Then\nSir Ewaine said to Elose, who was looking out of the window beside him,\n\"What fair lady is that who followeth the bier of the dead knight?\" To\nthe which she made answer: \"That is the lady of this castle, and she is\nmaking sorrow for the knight her champion who is slain.\"\n\nThen Sir Ewaine gazed and gazed at that lady for as long as he could see\nher, and when she had gone by, he said: \"Elose, certes that lady is the\nmost beautiful dame that ever mine eyes looked upon. Now I tell thee\ntruly that I do not wonder that your knight-champion was willing for to\nserve her for a whole year with faithfulness; for I would willingly\nserve for even a longer time than that to win her good regard.\"\n\nAt this Elose laughed with great good will. \"Is it so with you, Sir\nKnight?\" quoth she, \"and do you then find that your heart is inclined\ntoward this lady?\" And Sir Ewaine said, \"Yea, it is even so with me.\"\nElose said: \"And wouldst thou be pleased, Sir Ewaine, if I could devise\nit in such wise that the lady of this castle should look kindly upon\nthee?\" And again Sir Ewaine said, \"Yea.\"\n\nThen Elose smiled very cheerfully upon Sir Ewaine and she said: \"Well,\nMessire, let be till to-morrow and then we shall see what that day shall\nbring forth.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The damsel Elose serveth Sir Ewaine in the morning._]\n\nSo when the next morning had come, Sir Ewaine arose greatly refreshed,\nand by and by Elose came to him with food with which to break his fast.\nAnd after he had broken his fast she brought a bowl of ivory with tepid\nwater, and she brought a razor with a heft of ivory studded with gold,\nand she hung a fine linen towel upon her shoulder and she shaved Sir\nEwaine so that his face was both fresh and clean. After that she brought\nhim fine raiment--an undervest of soft cambric linen and a surcoat and\nhose of azure silk embroidered with silver, and a cloak with a clasp of\ngold, and with pears of silver hanging from the corners thereof. And she\nbrought a circlet of gold for his head, such as became the son of a\nking. Then she looked upon Sir Ewaine and he was very comely.\n\nAfter all this had been done in that wise, Elose left Sir Ewaine and\nwent to where was the Lady Lesolie, and the lady sat alone in her bower\nin great sorrow that her knight-champion was dead. But Elose entered\nthat place with a very cheerful countenance, and she said, \"Lady, what\ncheer?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Lesolie rebuketh the damsel._]\n\nThen the Lady Lesolie looked upon Elose with great indignation because\nof her cheerful aspect, and she said: \"Damsel, I am much displeased that\nthou shouldst appear so cheerful and gay of spirit when thou beholdest\nme in such sorrow. And I think very ill of thee that thou who art the\nbest beloved of all my damsels hast not come nigh me in all this time\nfor to offer me cheer or comfort in mine affliction.\"\n\nNow Elose was greatly in favor with the Lady Lesolie so that she feared\nher not, wherefore she still bore a very cheerful aspect. And she said:\n\"Lady, I know not wherefore I should take such sorrow as I see the\nsorrow to be that you assume for Sir Sagron. I did not love him so much\nthat I should take more than reasonable grief when he suffered such\nmisfortune of battle as may befall any knight.\"\n\nThen the Lady Lesolie's eyes sparkled very brightly with anger, and she\nsaid: \"Ha! Damsel! Thou goest beyond all measure of the liberty of\nspeech which I allow to thee. Mayhap I loved not Sir Sagron as he would\nhave had me, yet I honored him a very great deal, and now that he is\ngone I know not who may defend the fountain in his stead. So, because\nthou dost smile and take cheer in this time of trouble, thy presence is\ndispleasing to me, wherefore I would have thee gone from hence.\"\n\nThen Elose said: \"Very well, Lady, I will go as thou hast bidden me, but\nI think thou wilt be sorry that thou didst not talk more with me and\nthat thou dost not inquire of me why I appear so cheerful as I do.\"\n\nTherewith Elose turned as though to go forth from that place. But after\nshe had gone a little distance, the Lady Lesolie arose and followed her\nto the door of the chamber and began coughing very softly. Then when\nElose turned, the lady beckoned to her and said, \"Come hither!\" and\nElose laughed and came. Then the lady said: \"Thou art very saucy of\ndisposition, but nevertheless I love thee more than thou deservest. Now\ntell me what it is that thou hast upon thy mind.\"\n\nThen Elose said, \"I will tell thee, but it must be where none may hear.\"\n\nThe lady said, \"Come hither, then,\" and therewith she led Elose into a\nplace where they were altogether by themselves, and when they were come\nthere the Lady Lesolie said, \"What is it, Elose?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The damsel bespeaketh the Lady Lesolie._]\n\nThen Elose said: \"Lady, there is in this castle a knight who loveth thee\na very great deal, and this knight is exceedingly noble and of very\ngreat skill at arms, and he is a king's son, and he is a knight of King\nArthur's court, and he is a knight of the Round Table. So great is the\nlove of this knight for thee that thou mightest demand anything of him.\nNow it appeareth to me that since thou hast lost the knight who was our\nchampion, thou wouldst do well to call upon this knight to defend thee.\nAnd if in good time thou shouldest choose him for thy lord, then it\nwould be much to thy pride and greatly to the joy of this land.\"\n\nNow all this while the lady had been regarding Elose very steadfastly,\nand when the maiden ended she said: \"Who is this knight, and what is his\nname and his degree?\" Elose said: \"Lady, thou hast heard of him a great\nmany times, for he is Sir Ewaine, the son of King Uriens of Gore and of\nQueen Morgana le Fay.\" Then the lady said in a very strange voice:\n\"Elose, it is wonderful that a knight so famous as this should have been\nin our castle and yet we knew nothing thereof. Now tell me, when was it\nhe came hither?\" Then Elose was confused and said: \"Lady, he hath only\nbeen here a little while, for he did but come this morning.\"\n\nThen the Lady Lesolie smiled very curiously, and she said: \"Bring that\nknight hither, that I may see him and speak with him.\" Then straightway\nElose went to where Sir Ewaine was. And Elose said: \"Sir Ewaine, arise\nand come with me, for my lady would have speech with thee.\"\n\nSo Sir Ewaine arose and went forth with Elose, and Elose brought him to\nwhere the Lady Lesolie was. And Elose introduced Sir Ewaine to the Lady\nLesolie, and Sir Ewaine paid great homage to her for he beheld that she\nwas very wonderfully beautiful. The lady looked at Sir Ewaine very\nsteadily, and by and by she said, \"Elose, this knight hath not the\nappearance of one who is a traveller new arrived from a journey; rather\nhe appeareth like one who is fresh and well-bedight.\"\n\nThen at first Elose was confused and wist not where to look. Then\npresently the lady said: \"Elose, I believe this was the knight who slew\nSir Sagron.\"\n\nThen Elose looked very steadily into the lady's face, and anon she spake\nboldly and without fear, and she said: \"Well, lady, what then? So much\nthe better for thee if this knight overcame Sir Sagron, who was the best\nknight in all this land. For if this knight overcame Sir Sagron, then is\nhe better than Sir Sagron, and so he is better to be the defender of the\nFountain.\"\n\nThen the lady said: \"Say no more, but go ye both away until I meditate\nupon this for a while.\" And thereupon Elose and Sir Ewaine quitted the\napartment of the lady and went away to another part of the castle.\n\n[Sidenote: _The damsel bringeth Sir Ewaine to the Lady of the\nFountain._]\n\nAfter that they waited for word to come to them from the lady of the\ncastle, yet no word came for a long while. But when the evening had\ncome, the chatelaine sent a very courteous message to Sir Ewaine that it\nwould pleasure her to have him sup with her. So Sir Ewaine went upon\nthat command, and the lady received him very graciously and made place\nfor him beside her at the table, and they sat and ate and drank together\nand talked of many things of court and field. And ever as they talked\ntogether the Lady Lesolie regarded Sir Ewaine very closely, and she\nperceived that he was very noble and haughty of appearance, and she wist\nthat he was greater champion than she had ever beheld before.\n\nThen, by and by, she said of a sudden to Sir Ewaine: \"Messire, dost thou\nnot think thou didst very ill to come hitherward to the destruction of\nour peace?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine promiseth to defend the Fountain._]\n\nThen Sir Ewaine spake very boldly, saying: \"Lady, I am very sorry to\nhave caused thee grief, but I did only as any knight-adventurer would\ndo, taking my chance of battle and of death with him as he took his\nchance with me. Yet now that the chance of war hath brought me hither, I\ncannot repent me of anything that hath befallen me. For that chance hath\nbrought me into thy presence and hath made me acquainted with thee.\"\nThen the lady said: \"Well, Messire, what am I to do now that thou hast\nslain the knight-champion of this place?\" To the which Sir Ewaine made\nreply: \"Lady, if thou wilt take me for thy champion, I will serve thee\nvery faithfully and will ask no guerdon from thee. For I know of no\ngreater joy that could befall me than to be thy chosen champion.\" Then\nthe Lady Lesolie smiled and said: \"Sir Ewaine, thou speakest very well,\nand I believe that thy deeds are every whit as trustworthy as thy words.\nSo I will accept thee as my champion to do combat in my behalf and to\nprotect my fountain and myself for a year and a day. If by the end of\nthat time thou hast proved thyself to be entirely faithful, then I will\nconsider anything else that thou mayst have to say to me.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo Sir Ewaine abided at that place and he defended the Fountain so well\nthat no one came thither to assail it who was not overthrown, and from\nall whom he thus overthrew, Sir Ewaine took horse and shield and sent\nthem away from that place afoot.\n\nAnd Sir Ewaine dwelt in the Valley of the Fountain for nigh a year, and\nin that time he and the Lady Lesolie of the Fountain were betrothed to\none another with intent to be wedded when the year was ended. And ever\nSir Ewaine loved the Lady of the Fountain more and more, and ever she\nloved him more and more.\n\nYet oftentimes Sir Ewaine bethought him of the King's court and of his\nfriends thereat and at those times he would long for them with a very\ngreat passion of desire. So it befell upon a day that Sir Ewaine and the\nLady Lesolie were in the garden of the castle and Sir Ewaine sat sunk in\ndeep and silent thought concerning those friends and that court. And\nmeanwhile the lady watched him askance. Then by and by she said: \"What\nis it that lieth upon thy mind, Messire, that causeth thee to take so\nmuch thought to thyself?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine longeth for the court of the King._]\n\nThen Sir Ewaine aroused himself and said: \"Lady, it is that I think much\nof my friends and companions of the court of King Arthur. For now nigh\nto a year hath passed and in all of that time I have heard no single\nword of any of them.\"\n\nThen the Lady Lesolie said, \"Ewaine, art thou discontent with us at this\nplace?\" He said: \"Nay, lady, thou knowest I am very well content and\nmore than well content to be thus forever with thee. Yet ne'theless I\nwould that I might have word of my companions, for I know not how it\nfareth with them. And furthermore, I would fain know whether they who\nwent in quest of Sir Launcelot with me have yet heard anything of that\nnoble and worthy champion.\"\n\nThen the Lady Lesolie said: \"Ah, Ewaine, I fear me that thou thinkest so\nmuch of thy friends that thou wilt, in a little while, be discontent to\nremain with us any longer.\" To which Sir Ewaine said: \"Lady, thou\nknowest very well that that could never be.\" And she said, \"Art thou\nsure of that?\" \"Yea,\" quoth Sir Ewaine, \"I am well assured of it.\"\n\nThen the Lady of the Fountain said: \"Ewaine, I have it in my mind that\nthou shalt go and visit thy friends at the court of the great king. For\nafter thou hast seen them and hast satisfied thyself, I believe that\nthou wilt be better content to be here. So I lay it as my command upon\nthee that thou shalt go to Camelot, and have converse once again with\nthy friends and companions. Yet I would not have thee remain too long\naway from us, wherefore I lay it as a further injunction upon thee that\nthou shalt return hither as soon as possible, for we can ill spare our\nchampion who is so dear to us.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: The Lady of the Fountain:]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Fourth\n\n_How Sir Ewaine returned to the court of King Arthur, and how he forgot\nthe Lady Lesolie and his duty to the Fountain._\n\n\nSo it came about that the day after that day, Sir Ewaine took horse and\ndeparted from the Valley of the Fountain as the Lady Lesolie had\ncommanded him to do; and he travelled alone, going from that place in\nthe same manner that he had come thither.\n\nNow as he went upon his way in return to Camelot he must needs travel\nupon that same road by which he came thitherward. So by and by he again\nbeheld that huge herdsman oaf who sat upon the mound as aforetold of,\nguarding his cattle. When this being beheld Sir Ewaine he shouted to him\naloud in a great voice, \"Hello, little man! Whither goest thou?\" But to\nhim Sir Ewaine made no reply, but rode steadfastly upon his way.\n\nAnon, and about the hour of noon, he came to within sight of that\nwonderful valley wherein stood the enchanted castle of the Lady Vivien.\nAnd Sir Ewaine rode down into the valley and toward the castle, and as\nhe drew nigh they of the castle were aware of his coming from afar.\n\nSo it was that as Sir Ewaine came nigh to the castle there issued forth\na multitude of people, who approached him singing and making joy and\ngiving him great voice of welcome. For ever they cried aloud: \"Welcome,\nO noble champion! Welcome! And welcome still again!\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine cometh to the castle of Vivien._]\n\nSo they met him and brought him as it were in triumph to the castle, and\nwhen he had come nigh thereunto the Lady Vivien herself came forth to\nadd her welcome to his coming. And she wore a very smiling and cheerful\ncountenance, and she also cried, as did the others, \"Welcome, Sir\nEwaine! Welcome! Thrice welcome!\" and she said: \"Messire, I well know\nthat thou didst come forth victorious from that adventure which thou\ndidst undertake against the Knight of the Fountain, wherefore it is that\nI am rejoiced to see thee. For, as thou already must know, I bore no\nvery high regard for that knight whom thou didst overthrow.\"\n\nNow Sir Ewaine was very well pleased with the welcome he found at that\nplace, for he did not suspect that the Lady Vivien, who smiled so kindly\nupon him, nourished any thought of mischief against him. Wherefore he\nsuffered them all to bear him into the castle in triumph and to relieve\nhim of his armor and to bring him to a bath and to fit him with fine\nsoft raiment wherewith he might with a good appearance come before the\nLady Vivien in her bower.\n\nAfter that Sir Ewaine went to where that lady was, and he sat with her\nand talked in great amity with her. Yet he knew not that all that while\nhe talked with her she was planning mischief against him. So by and by,\nstill in great amity, they went to a place where a noble feast was\nprepared, and there Sir Ewaine sat beside the Lady Vivien with great\npleasure in being thus near to her. Then, after a while, having in mind\nthose several mischiefs she had planned against the knights of King\nArthur and of the Round Table, he said to her: \"Lady, you who are so\nkind and fair to me, I know not why you do mischief against those\nothers, my companions, who are of King Arthur's court; and I know not\nwhy you do mischief against the Lady Lesolie of the Fountain so as to\nbring trouble upon that land. She hath done you no ill that you should\nso practise evil against her.\"\n\nThen the Lady Vivien assumed an appearance of great meekness and\ncontrition, and she said: \"Messire, what you say is true, and I repent\nme of all those evil things which I have done.\" And she said: \"Would it\npleasure you if all enchantment should be removed from that fountain,\nand if the land of the fountain should be left at peace?\" Sir Ewaine\nsaid, \"Lady, it would pleasure me beyond measure.\" Then the Lady Vivien\nsaid: \"So it shall be, and I promise you very faithfully that that\nenchantment shall be entirely removed from that land this very day\nforward unto all time.\" Then she looked upon Sir Ewaine and smiled upon\nhim in such wise that he was bewitched with her smiling, and she said,\n\"Sir Ewaine, let there be peace betwixt us from this time forth for\naye!\" and he said, \"Lady, God knows I bear you no ill will and so there\nis peace betwixt us.\"\n\nThen the Lady Vivien said, \"Sir, I would that thou wouldst accept a\npledge of peace from me.\" And he said, \"What is that pledge?\" Quoth she,\n\"I will show thee.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Vivien giveth Sir Ewaine the ring of\nforgetfulness._]\n\nThereupon saying, she smote her hands together, and in answer there came\na fair young page clad in cloth of gold and with long, curling ringlets\nof golden hair hanging down upon his shoulders. To this youth the lady\ngave sundry commands, and he departed, returning anon bearing in his\nhands a patten of gold and upon the patten was a fair white napkin of\nfine linen, and upon the napkin a ring of gold very cunningly wrought,\nand inset with a bright shining yellow stone. These the fair young page\nbrought to the Lady Vivien, kneeling upon one knee, and she took the\nring from the patten and gave it to Sir Ewaine, saying: \"Sir, behold\nthis ring! This I give to thee to wear as a pledge of the amity that\nlieth betwixt us.\" Therewith Sir Ewaine took the ring and set it upon\nhis finger.\n\nNow that ring was enchanted with very potent spells. For it was a ring\nof forgetfulness, so that whosoever wore it, that person would forget\nwhatever the Lady Vivien would have him disremember.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine forgetteth the Lady Lesolie._]\n\nSo when Sir Ewaine set the ring upon his finger, that moment he forgot\nall about the Lady of the Fountain. And he forgot all the pledges that\nhad passed betwixt himself and that lady, and he forgot all the other\nthings that belonged to that part of his life. But all else he\nremembered: to wit, how he had undertaken that Adventure of the\nFountain, and how he had overthrown the knight-champion of the Fountain\nand all other parts of his life.\n\nThen Sir Ewaine looked at the Lady Vivien very strangely, like to one\nwho is newly awakened from a sleep, and he said, \"What is it we were\nspeaking of anon?\" And at that the Lady Vivien laughed and said, \"Sir,\nit matters not.\" Sir Ewaine said, \"Meseems I have had a dream, but I\ncannot remember what it was\"; and then the Lady Vivien laughed again and\nsaid, \"Neither does it matter what was thy dream.\" And she said: \"It\nonly matters that we are friends, and that thou wearest my pledge of\namity upon thy hand. Now I prithee never remove that ring from thy\nfinger, for from that moment the friendship that now exists shall cease\nbetwixt us.\" Sir Ewaine said: \"This ring shall remain upon my finger for\naye, and I shall never take it from my finger even for a single moment.\"\n\nSo Sir Ewaine rested with great pleasure for that night at the castle of\nthe Lady Vivien, and, when the next morning was come, he departed from\nthe castle, betaking his way to the court of King Arthur.\n\nFor he said to himself: \"Haply by this time they have some news of Sir\nLauncelot. So I will straightway return to the court of the King and\nlearn if that be so.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine returneth to the court of the King._]\n\nNow Sir Ewaine, because he had forgotten all about his life at the\nValley of the Fountain, had no thought that he had been gone from that\ncourt for a longer time than a fortnight, wherefore when he was come\namongst his friends again and when he found that wellnigh a year had\npassed, he knew not what to think. \"How is this,\" he said, \"and what\nhath befallen me? Surely there was something that was like to a dream\nthat I cannot remember. What is it that hath happened to me? I know not\nwhat it is.\" So Sir Ewaine was ashamed that he should not be able to\nremember what had happened to him for the year that had passed,\nwherefore he held his peace and said nothing concerning the matter. But\never Sir Ewaine feared lest he should betray to his friends that he had\nforgotten a whole year of his life. So it was he said to himself: \"After\nthat I have rested a little here at the court of the King I will set\nforth again in quest of news of Sir Launcelot. For maybe by and by I may\nbe able to remember what I have forgotten of this year that hath\npassed.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _King Arthur rideth afield._]\n\nBut Sir Ewaine did not immediately depart from the court, and so it\nchanced upon a certain day, the weather being very pleasant, King Arthur\nwent afield with certain of his court and Sir Ewaine was one of those.\nThat time it was early summer weather, and the breezes were soft and\nbalmy, and full of the odor of growing things. So when the heat of the\nday was come the King ordained that a pavilion should be erected at a\ncertain spot that pleased him very well, and he and the Queen and their\ncourts sat in that pavilion at a fair feast which the attendants of the\ncourt had prepared for them.\n\n[Sidenote: _There cometh a damsel to the King's pavilion._]\n\nNow whilst they so sat, there came of a sudden a bustle and a sound of\nseveral voices talking without, and anon there came into the pavilion a\ndamsel very fair of face and with curling yellow hair. And the damsel\nwas clad in garments of yellow silk and she wore a frontlet of gold upon\nher head, and she wore shoes of variegated leather with latchets of gold\nupon her feet. And she was further adorned with necklaces of gold and\nwith armlets of gold, wherefore they who sat there were astonished at\nthe beauty of the damsel and at the suddenness of her coming.\n\n(Now you are to know that maiden was the damsel Elose, and yet Sir\nEwaine knew her not because of the ring of forgetfulness which he wore.)\n\nThen King Arthur arose where he sat, and he said: \"Fair demoiselle,\nwhence come you and what would you here? Tell us, I pray, who are you\nwho cometh hither like to a fair vision from a dream.\"\n\nYet ever the damsel stood within the door of the pavilion, and because\nof the dazzling brightness of the sunlight whence she had come she could\nnot at first see very well within the shadow of the tent. So she said,\n\"I pray you tell me, is Sir Ewaine at this place?\"\n\nTo that King Arthur, much wondering, said, \"Yea, lady, yonder he sits,\"\nand thereupon the damsel Elose beheld Sir Ewaine where he was.\n\n[Sidenote: _The damsel Elose accuseth Sir Ewaine of treason._]\n\nThen Elose entered farther into the pavilion and came to where Sir\nEwaine sat. Her eyes shone very bright with anger, and she said: \"Sir\nEwaine, I denounce thee as a false knight and a traitor!\"\n\nThen Sir Ewaine looked upon the damsel with great astonishment, and\nsaid, \"Who art thou, lady, who dost accuse me of being false?\"\n\nUpon that the damsel cried out in a very shrill voice, \"Thou knowest\nvery well who I am!\"\n\nBut ever Sir Ewaine looked very steadily at her and almost he remembered\nher, but he could not quite remember her because of that ring which he\nwore. Wherefore he said, \"Nay, I know thee not.\"\n\nThen Elose smiled upon Sir Ewaine very bitterly, and she said: \"Thou\ndidst not forget me when thou didst lay in peril of thy life in the\nCastle of the Fountain; but now that thou art enjoying thyself with thy\nfellows, it pleases thee to forget so poor an one as I, who preserved\nthy life for thee. But that I could forgive thee if the need were to\nforgive it; yet I cannot forgive thee that thou hast also forgotten that\ndear lady, my mistress, unto whom thou didst pledge thy faith, and unto\nwhom thou art bound in fealty. Messire, thou hast a very short memory.\"\n\nThen Sir Ewaine cried out in an exceedingly bitter voice like one in\ngreat pain: \"Lady, why say ye these things to me? I know you not.\"\n\nThen Elose came very close to Sir Ewaine and she took his hand, and she\nsaid, \"Do you not know me now?\" He said, \"Nay, I know thee not.\" Upon\nthat the damsel raised her right hand with her glove in it, and she\nsmote Sir Ewaine upon the face with the glove so that the mark of her\nglove lay upon his cheek. And Sir Ewaine made no defence against her\nassault, but ever he gazed very steadfastly at her, and he said very\nbitterly: \"Lady, if thou wert a knight, thou wouldst not dare to do that\nto me, for either thou wouldst pay for that blow with thy life, or else\nI would wipe out the disgrace thereof with mine own blood.\"\n\nBut Elose laughed, and she went out from that pavilion and mounted her\nhorse and rode away, leaving Sir Ewaine with his head bowed full low\nupon his breast as though he had been struck a mortal blow.\n\nThen after the damsel had gone, King Arthur said, \"Ewaine, who was that\nlady?\" And at that Sir Ewaine lifted his head and cried out with great\nvehemence: \"Sire, I know her not; nor can I remember that I have ever\nseen her before.\"\n\nAt that King Arthur was silent and all those who were there looked\naskance at Sir Ewaine and whispered together concerning those things\nthat had happened. And Sir Ewaine was aware of how they regarded him and\nhow they whispered together, yet he heeded them not, but ever sat with\nhis head bowed low with shame and humiliation. And ever he strove to\nremember who that damsel was, but could not remember.\n\n[Sidenote: _The King's court is adoubt concerning Sir Ewaine._]\n\nSo after that time there was much talk amongst those at the court\nconcerning that which had befallen in the King's pavilion. And many of\nthem said to one another: \"How is it possible for a knight of honor and\nof repute thus to forget one who had saved his life? And if he did\nindeed remember her, what of honor hath he who would deny her before\nthose who know him?\"\n\nSo those of the court spake together, and Sir Ewaine was aware that they\nregarded him with disfavor and he was hurt to the quick by that\nknowledge. So one day he came to King Arthur where he was, and he said:\n\"Lord, I am aware that I am held in disrepute in this court. Now I crave\nthy leave to depart from hence at least for a season.\" And King Arthur\nsaid: \"Messire, I will not deny that many things displeasing to me are\nsaid concerning thee. So if it be that thou art of a mind to quit us for\na while until thou art able to approve thy truth and thy honor, and\nuntil thou hast disproved these things which thy calumniators say\nagainst thee, thou hast my fair leave to depart according to thy\nrequest.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine departeth from the court._]\n\nSo Sir Ewaine took his departure from court, and his heart was filled\nwith bitterness and anger toward those who were one time his friends.\nFor he ever said to himself: \"Why is it that they should contemn me\nbecause I cannot remember that which I have forgot? For I cannot\nremember me of that damsel.\"\n\nThus he rode upon his way in great bitterness of spirit and with anger\ntoward all the world, because that all the world appeared to be set\nagainst him.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow Sir Ewaine journeyed for a long time he knew not whither, for he\ntravelled somewhiles like to one in a dream.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine cometh to a lonely hut._]\n\nSo it befell one day that he came to a thick woodland of great extent,\nand there night overtook him and he wist not where he was nor how he\nshould be able to come out of that wilderness. And whilst he was\ntravelling thus in darkness and perplexity, he was suddenly aware of a\nlight shining at a distance, and he followed that light until he came to\na rude hut of the forest, which same stood in an open glade of no very\ngreat extent. To this forest habitation came Sir Ewaine, and he smote\nupon the door thereof with the butt of his spear and anon came one and\nopened the door, and that one was an ancient and grisly beldame of a\nmost repulsive and forbidding appearance. When she beheld Sir Ewaine\nbefore her at the door of the hut she would have shut the door again,\nbut he would not let her do so, but thrust his spear into the opening of\nthe door so that she could not close it.\n\nThen that beldame, finding that he would not be denied, spake to him\nvery harshly, saying, \"What would you here, Sir Knight?\" Sir Ewaine\nsaid, \"I would have lodging for the night.\"\n\nThen the hag laughed very loud and shrill, and she said: \"Well, since\nthou wilt not be denied, thou shalt have thy desire. Enter, and may thy\nlodging be for long.\"\n\nSo Sir Ewaine dismounted from his horse, and turned it loose to graze\nupon the grass by night. Meantime he himself entered the hut.\n\nHere he beheld a great fire burning, with loud roaring in the chimney,\nand over the fire he beheld a great cauldron, in which was seething a\nstew of venison, the flavor of which filled the hut with a very savory\nodor. And Sir Ewaine beheld a great table, whereon were many platters of\nwood, and beholding these things spread as for a feast, he said, \"Good\ndame, I pray thee tell me who dwells here in this hut with thee?\" The\nbeldame said, \"My husband and my sons dwell here with me.\" Sir Ewaine\nsaid, \"Certes, thou hast a great family.\" And at that the beldame\nlaughed very violently and said, \"Yea, that is true.\"\n\nAfter that the hag ladled forth a mess of the stew into a wooden bowl,\nand she poured forth a great flagon of strong ale and she set these\nthings upon the board with a hunch of black bread, and Sir Ewaine sat\nhim down and ate and drank with great appetite. Then, after he had thus\nsatisfied his hunger and his thirst he was very drowsy, wherefore he\nlaid aside his armor and stretched himself upon a wooden bench that\nstood to one side and placed his helmet beneath his head and presently\nwas enwrapped in a sound sleep.\n\n[Sidenote: _The thieves return to the hut._]\n\nNow that hut was a den of thieves and that old hag was their housekeeper\nand there were twenty and seven in all of those thieves. So about the\nmiddle watch of the night that band of robbers returned with a\nconsiderable booty which they had seized from a party of townsfolk who\nwere traversing a part of the forest that was not very far distant from\nthat place. These beholding Sir Ewaine where he was sleeping, withdrew a\nlittle to one side and whispered together. And they whispered to the old\nbeldame, saying, \"Who is yonder man, and what doth he here?\" She said:\n\"He is an errant knight, who demanded housing awhile since. So here he\nlieth now asleep and at your mercy to dispose of as you see fit.\"\n\nThen the captain of the thieves came softly to where Sir Ewaine lay, and\nhe looked closely at him and he beheld the rich chain of gold about his\nneck and he beheld the ring upon his finger that the Lady Vivien had\ngiven him. After that he withdrew a little and whispered to his fellow:\n\"Here is a rich booty upon this sleeping knight. Now fetch hither cords\nand let us bind him. After that we may rob him at our ease, and after\nthat again we may either slay him or else keep him here for a great\nransom.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The thieves bind Sir Ewaine._]\n\nSo some of the thieves brought a strong cord and they made a noose\nthereof, and first they privily took away all Sir Ewaine's weapons from\nhim, and then they slipped the noose over his arms and in a trice and\nere he was fully awake they had bound him several times about the body\nso that as to his hands and arms he was altogether helpless.\n\nThus Sir Ewaine was rudely awakened to find himself a captive in that\nplace.\n\nBut when he saw who it was had made him captive, he assumed all the\nmajesty of his high estate and he said: \"Know ye what ye do? Wit ye that\nhe whom you have thus bound is a king's son and a knight of the Round\nTable so that you have through me committed a very grievous offence.\"\n\nThen several of those thieves were abashed at his words and at the great\nnobility of his bearing, but the captain of the band who was a hardened\nwretch, spake very boldly, saying: \"It matters not who you are, only if\nyou be truly a king's son and a knight of such worship, then will your\nransom be all the greater.\" And he said: \"First of all we will take this\nrich golden bawble from about your neck, and then we will take the fair\ngolden ring from off your finger.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The thieves rob Sir Ewaine of the ring of forgetfulness._]\n\nSo the chief robber first took the chain from about Sir Ewaine's neck,\nas he said, and then he drew the ring from his finger, and because Sir\nEwaine was bound he could in no wise prevent the robber chief from\ntaking those jewels from him in that way.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine remembereth all._]\n\nBut lo! when the robber had plucked the ring from the finger of Sir\nEwaine, then in an instant the magic of forgetfulness departed from him,\nand he remembered upon that instant all that had befallen him in the\nValley of the Fountain. And he remembered the Lady Lesolie of the\nFountain, and he remembered him of all the vows of faith he had plighted\nto her. And he knew now of why Elose had come to him at the King's court\nand had struck him in the face before them all; for he wist that the\ndamsel had come because she thought he had proved himself unfaithful and\nfalse to her lady. So it was as though a sword of remembrance had been\nstruck through the heart of Sir Ewaine, wherefore he cried out in a loud\nand piercing voice, \"Betrayed! Betrayed! Betrayed!\" saying that word\nthree times over. And the thieves wist not what he meant by those words,\nbut thought that he meant that he had been betrayed by the beldame, not\nknowing that he meant that he had been betrayed by the Lady Vivien.\n\nThen of a sudden in the fury of that remembrance of his own dishonor, it\nwas as though the strength of ten descended upon Sir Ewaine. Wherefore,\nputting forth all his strength, he strained at his bonds so that they\ncut into his flesh. And he strained even more and more violently at his\nbonds until, of a sudden, they were burst and immediately he was free.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine doeth battle with the thieves._]\n\nAfter that Sir Ewaine looked about him, but could find no weapon to his\nhand, wherefore he catched up the solid wooden bench whereon he had been\nlying awhile since. And he whirled that bench about his head and he\nsmote with it upon the right hand and the left and he smote the thieves\ndown upon the one side and the other. And so great was his fury that\nthey bore back from before him in terror of his madness.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine is wounded._]\n\nSo Sir Ewaine might have slain all those thieves (though there were a\nscore and seven of them in all) only for the captain of the band. He,\nbeholding the fury of Sir Ewaine, ran to where there was a javelin that\nstood in a corner of that place. And he catched up the javelin and threw\nit at Sir Ewaine; and the javelin pierced through the shoulder of Sir\nEwaine and pinned him fast to the wall of the hut.\n\nThen Sir Ewaine wist that he was very sorely wounded, wherefore he\nroared aloud. And he strove with the javelin and anon he wrenched\nhimself loose from the wall to which he had been pinned. Then he rushed\nat the thieves with the javelin still pinned through his shoulder and\nthey made way before the terror of his onset.\n\nNow as the robbers parted from before his onset, Sir Ewaine perceived\nthat there was a way for him to the door. Thereupon he cast himself upon\nthe door and he burst it open and fled away into the forest with the\njavelin still transfixed in his shoulder.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine escapeth._]\n\nTherewith, perceiving that their captive was escaping from them, the\nthieves rushed after Sir Ewaine and pursued him with great outcry. But\never they were afraid of the violence of his anger (for he had slain or\nbroken the bones of eleven of them) wherefore they followed him not with\nas good a will as they would else have done. Hence it befell that Sir\nEwaine made his escape from them and so got safe away into the cover of\nthe night and of the forest, though sorely and woefully wounded.\n\nAfter he had thus escaped from that danger, Sir Ewaine knew not what to\ndo. For he was faint and bedizzied because of his wound and the agony\nthereof. But he wist that he must free himself from that javelin,\nwherefore he catched the haft of the weapon and he broke it in twain.\nAfter that he plucked out the javelin by the point which had transfixed\nhis shoulder and with that a great issue of blood burst forth from the\nwound so that Sir Ewaine was nigh to swooning therewith.\n\nBut he did not swoon, but bare up under the passion of pain that lay\nupon him and from the issue of blood that followed what he had done.\nWherefore, after he had rested him for a while, he went forward through\nthe forest, tottering like a drunken man, now and then falling, and ever\nanon arising again and betaking his way he knew not whither.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: A Damsel bringeth aid unto Sir Ewaine:]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Fifth\n\n_How Sir Ewaine was succored and brought back to life by a certain noble\nlady, how he brought aid to that lady in a time of great trouble, and\nhow he returned once again to the Lady Lesolie of the Fountain._\n\n\nThus Sir Ewaine wandered for all that night he knew not whither, and\nsometimes he fell and anon he would arise and go onward again. So\nagainst the dawn of day, he began to approach the outskirts of the\nforest and there, as he wandered painfully onward, he met a fagot-maker\nwho had a cart and who was coming, all early in the morning, into the\nforest to chop fagots.\n\nThis fellow, beholding that figure of misery with a face like to wax and\na body all covered with blood, wist not whether it was ghost or mortal\nman whom he beheld, wherefore he fell to crossing himself and pattering\nprayers for fear. But Sir Ewaine spake, though in a very weak and\nplaintive voice, saying: \"Alas, good fellow! I pray you, for the sake of\nGod's mercy to take pity upon me and to bear me hence in your cart to\nwhere I may secure aid and succor, else I must assuredly die all alone\nin the forest.\"\n\nThen the woodchopper was aware that Sir Ewaine was no ghost or spirit\nleft behind by the night, but that he was mortal man, and when he looked\nupon that sad woeful figure, he was moved to great pity, and said:\n\"Alas, poor mortal, thou art in a sad plight indeed and so I will be\nglad to aid thee as thou desirest.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The woodchopper giveth aid to Sir Ewaine._]\n\nSo after that the fagot-maker spread a soft thick bed of leaves in his\ncart and laid the wounded knight thereon. And so he bore Sir Ewaine out\nof the forest, with intent to take him to some place where he might be\ncherished with care and attention.\n\nThus it was that a poor woodchopper of the forest lent aid and\nassistance to one of the most noble knights of the Round Table and\nnephew to King Arthur. As for that fellow, he wist not who it was to\nwhom he was giving aid, but only thought that it was some poor wretch\nwho had fallen amongst thieves, for Sir Ewaine had neither armor nor\nweapons of any sort that might indicate how exalted was his estate, and\neven his golden chain of knighthood had been stolen from him by those\nthieves of the forest. Wherefore it was not possible for any one to know\nthat he was other than a poor wayfarer of the forest. So the\nfagot-maker, unknowing who he was, bare that good knight out of the\nforest, and Sir Ewaine lay fainting, and all covered with blood and nigh\nto death, upon a bed of leaves in a poor woodchopper's cart.\n\nNow when the fagot-maker had brought the wounded knight out of the\nwoodlands and into the open country, he turned to find how it fared with\nhim, for it seemed to the honest fellow that his burden was lying\nwonderful still and quiet. So the fagot-maker called out, \"Friend, what\ncheer have you?\" To this Sir Ewaine answered him not, for in the\nmeantime as they travelled onward he had fallen into a swoon and now he\nlay like one who was dying or was dead.\n\nThen the woodchopper came and looked upon the face of Sir Ewaine, and he\nbeheld that it was white like to death. And he could not see that Sir\nEwaine breathed, wherefore he thought that the wounded man was dead.\n\nThereat the poor knave was filled with great fear, for he said to\nhimself: \"Of a surety if they find me thus with a dead man lying in my\ncart, they will believe that I have committed a murder and they will\nhale me before the judge and they will hang me.\" Wherefore, reasoning in\nthat wise, he began to cast about him how he might rid himself of that\nwhich was within his cart so that he should not thus be found in company\nwith a dead man.\n\n[Sidenote: _The woodchopper layeth Sir Ewaine beside a lake._]\n\nNow at that time the cart chanced to be passing through a park\ncoadjacent to a castle, the towers and the roofs and the chimneys of\nwhich might be seen through the leaves of the intervening trees. And at\nthat place there was a little lake of water with many flags and sweet\nrushes growing around about the margin thereof, and this was a very\nsecret, quiet place, for no one was nigh at that still early hour of\nday.\n\nSo here perceiving that no one could see what he would do, the\nfagot-maker stopped his cart and lifted Sir Ewaine out thereof and still\nhe thought that the wounded man was dead. After that the woodchopper\nlaid Sir Ewaine down very gently upon a soft bed of moss under the\nshadow of an oak tree and beside the margin of the lake. Having thus got\nrid of his burden in that wise he then went away and left the wounded\nknight lying alone in that place.\n\n[Sidenote: _The lady of the castle perceiveth Sir Ewaine._]\n\nNow that part of the park where Sir Ewaine lay was a very favorite spot\nof the lady of the castle, who was wont to take the air and to walk with\nher court of damsels beside the lake. So it befell that morning, it\nbeing a very pleasant and cheerful day, that she walked thither with\nthose maidens in attendance upon her. So coming to that place, she\nperceived from afar where Sir Ewaine lay beneath the oak tree in the\ncentre of the park. And when she saw him she said, \"Who is yonder man\nand what does he do here?\"\n\nThen one of the damsels went more near to where Sir Ewaine lay, and she\nlooked closely upon him and anon she said: \"Lady, I believe this man is\ndead, for he is all covered with blood, and I do not see him move or\nbreathe.\"\n\nThe lady said, \"See if that be so,\" and therewith the damsel went closer\nto Sir Ewaine and reached forth and she laid her hand upon his bosom.\nThen she was aware that his heart beat, but only a little, and she knew\nthat there was life in him. So she said: \"Nay, he is not dead, but in a\nswoon that is like to death.\"\n\nThen the lady came and also looked upon Sir Ewaine, and she was moved\nwith pity to behold that great and noble frame of a man lying there in\nthat way. Wherefore she said, \"I am of a mind to save this man.\"\n\nSo after that she and her court retired to her castle, and when she was\ncome there she took a very precious casket of ointment from a cabinet\nand gave it to that damsel who had touched Sir Ewaine. To her she said:\n\"Take this ointment, damsel, to where that man lieth in a swoon. For wit\nyou, this is a very potent oil to heal all manner of sickness and\nweakness even if one be upon the edge of death. Pour a little of this\nointment upon the bosom of that man above his heart. Then rub it well\nwith thy hand, and by and by he will revive. Take thou also yonder horse\nand some decent raiment fit for such a well-appearing man to wear, and\nlet the horse be nigh to him when he awakens. Then do thou observe him\nfrom secret place, and bring me word of what he doeth.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _A damsel of the castle bringeth succor to Sir Ewaine._]\n\nSo the damsel did all as the lady had commanded her to do; she took the\nhorse, and the raiment and the precious balm and went to where Sir\nEwaine lay in that deathly swoon. But when she came to anoint him with\nthe ointment, she poured not a little upon him, nor did she rub with her\nhand the bosom of him who lay there; otherwise she poured the whole of\nthe balm upon Sir Ewaine's bosom, and then she went away to a little\ndistance and hid herself to observe what he would do.\n\nSo in a little she saw that the wounded man began to bestir himself and\nmove his arms this way and that. Anon he uplifted himself from where he\nlay and gazed all about him, and so, being revived, remembered all that\nhe had aforetime forgotten. Then he groaned with great travail of soul,\nfor the memory of his dishonor came upon him and he still suffered a\ngrievous pain from that sore wound in his shoulder. Then anon he beheld\nthe horse near by and the garments that were beside the horse, and he\nthought that maybe those things had been placed there for his use,\nthough who had been so kind to him he knew not. So he arose with great\npain and he took the clothes from the horse and he went to the lake and\nbathed himself. After that he put on the clothes and mounted upon the\nhorse with intent to depart from that place.\n\nThen the maiden, who had beheld all that he did, came forth from the\nthicket where she had been hidden and whence she had observed him, and\nwhen Sir Ewaine saw her he said, \"Maiden, was it thou who purveyed me\nwith this horse and with these garments?\" She said, \"Nay, it was the\nlady to whom this place belongs.\" Sir Ewaine said, \"Who is that lady?\"\nAnd the maiden replied: \"She is the widow of a very powerful lord, and\nshe hath saved thy life this day. For she sent me with an ointment with\nwhich I bathed thee, and which gave thee strength to arise again. And\nshe sent thee that horse and those clothes which thou hast put on.\" Sir\nEwaine said: \"Certes, she is most kind and charitable in her heart.\nPerhaps some time I may do her a service that will be equal to this\nservice which she hath rendered to me.\"\n\nNow the maiden did not suspect who it was with whom she spake, for his\nface was white like milk, and very haggard and wild with pain and\nweakness, so that his countenance showed none of that nobility that\nbelonged to him. And, as aforesaid, he had no armor, for the thieves had\ntaken away his armor and he had left it behind him in the hut whence he\nhad escaped. So the maiden had no cause to think that he was one of\ngreat worship whom she beheld, so she said: \"Good fellow, my lady hath\nneed enough of aid, but I do not believe that thou art one who may help\nher in her trouble.\"\n\n\"Why dost thou think that?\" quoth Sir Ewaine. \"Thou shouldst not judge\nof my ability from what thou seest, for I may be other than what I\nappear to be.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine declareth himself to the maiden._]\n\nThen the damsel was greatly astonished at the dignity of manner with\nwhich he spoke, for he spoke as one having authority and very calmly and\nhaughtily. So she began to misdoubt that this was some one else than she\nhad first thought him to be, wherefore she said, \"I pray you, Sir, tell\nme who you are?\" To the which he replied: \"I am Sir Ewaine of King\nArthur's court and of his Round Table, son to King Uriens of Gore and of\nthe Lady Queen Morgana surnamed le Fay.\"\n\nAt this proclamation the damsel was greatly astonished, wherefore she\ncried out aloud: \"Is it indeed possible that this is so, and that so\nfamous and so remarkable a knight should have come to such a pass as\nthat in which you were found?\" and the damsel said: \"Now the lady of\nthis castle will be very highly honored when she comes to know that she\nhath lent succor to so noble and haughty a champion as you proclaim\nyourself to be. Let us go to her so that you may tell her the story of\nyour misfortunes.\" And Sir Ewaine said: \"So be it, and let us go.\"\n\nSo they both departed from that place and as they wended their way\nthence Sir Ewaine said: \"Now tell me, damsel, what is the need of help\nthat thy lady hath and concerning which thou didst speak to me anon?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The damsel telleth Sir Ewaine concerning the lady of the\ncastle._]\n\nThe damsel said: \"I will tell thee. The lady of this castle is a widow,\nand at the death of her husband she had two very noble castles and two\ngreat estates belonging to those castles. Those castles and that land\nher lord bequeathed to her to have and to hold for her own. Now after\nshe was thus left a widow, it befell that a certain very proud and\nhaughty lord who was her neighbor, desired to make her his wife; but she\nwould not listen to his suit, having great love for that worthy knight\nher husband who was dead. So she refused the knight who desired to wed\nher and at that he was very angry. After that he came with a great array\nof armed men, and he despoiled her of one of her estates by force. And\nnow, unless she should yield to him, he threatens to take away this\nother estate whereon she dwelleth and which is all that she hath in the\nworld.\n\n\"So my lady is in a great pass and knoweth not what to do, having no\nknight for to defend her; for all those who should defend her, fall away\nfrom her in this time of trouble for fear of the anger of that lord who\nseeks her hand.\"\n\n\"Certes, this is a sad story which thou tellest me,\" said Sir Ewaine,\n\"and indeed I will do what I may to help thy lady, who hath been so kind\nto me.\"\n\nThus talking together, they two approached the castle, and the lady of\nthe castle, beholding them coming from a distance, was greatly surprised\nto see the damsel conversing in that wise with the wounded man whom she\nhad been sent to succor.\n\nThen when they were come to her the lady said to the damsel, \"Didst thou\nuse that balm as I told thee to do?\" And the damsel said, \"Yea.\" The\nlady said, \"How much didst thou use thereof?\" And the damsel said, \"I\nused it all.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The lady of the castle is affronted at the maiden._]\n\nThen the lady when she heard how that the damsel had poured all of that\nbalm at one time upon Sir Ewaine, was much affronted and very angry with\nher, and she said: \"What is this that thou hast done? I cannot easily\nforgive thee this, for thou hast wasted several score pounds worth of\nthe precious ointment upon a stranger whom we know not and who hath no\nappearance of worship.\"\n\nUnto her the maiden made reply: \"Lady, be not offended at this, for wit\nyou that this stranger is of far greater worth than all the balm you\ncould pour upon him.\"\n\nAt these words the lady was much surprised, wherefore she said, \"Who is\nhe that is of such great worth as thou sayst?\" and the damsel replied:\n\"Lady, this is none other than Sir Ewaine, Knight of the Round Table and\nnephew of King Arthur.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The lady giveth welcome to Sir Ewaine._]\n\nThen the lady of the castle cried out with astonishment and said, \"Is\nthis true that I hear?\" And Sir Ewaine said, \"Yea, Lady.\" Then the lady\nof the castle came to Sir Ewaine and took him by the hand, and said:\n\"Welcome, welcome, Sir Ewaine! Now this is a great honor that hath\nbefallen us at this place to have given aid and succor to a knight so\nfamous in chivalry as thou art.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" quoth Sir Ewaine, \"you do me honor beyond my worth, and so you\nput me under still greater obligations than I rested under afore this.\nNow I am most desirous of repaying you in some measure for all the\nkindness that you have visited upon me, wherefore, if it be sooth as I\nhave been informed by this maiden that you have need of such a\nknight-champion at this place, then do I offer myself as such a\nchampion, trusting that I may be of aid to you and so repay to you in\nsome measure those favors which you have bestowed upon me.\"\n\nAt this the lady was rejoiced beyond all measure, and she said:\n\"Messire, I accept thy offer of championship with all gratitude and with\nmuch pride, for indeed I believe it would not be possible to find in all\nof the world a champion as haughty and as puissant as thou art.\"\n\nSo it came about that Sir Ewaine abided at the castle of that widowed\nchatelaine for a long time, and until he was altogether healed of his\nwound. And every day he grew more strong and sturdy of body and more\nnoble of appearance, so that all they of the castle took great pride in\nhaving him there as their champion.\n\nNow it befell upon a day that there came to this castle that evil-minded\nlord of whom the damsel had spoken to Sir Ewaine, and this lord brought\nwith him six other knights, and all these seven knights pitched their\npavilions before the castle gates. And they mocked at those in the\ncastle and dared any one to come forth therefrom, for they knew not, as\nyou may believe, that Sir Ewaine was there as the champion of the\ncastle.\n\nSo when Sir Ewaine heard how that knight mocked at the people of the\ncastle, he was very wroth, wherefore he quickly made him ready, and\ndonned a suit of rich armor that the lady had provided for him. And he\nmounted upon his horse, and so being in all wise prepared, he gave\ncommand to uplift the portcullis and to let fall the drawbridge. Then he\nrode forth from the castle, his horse's hoofs smiting the planks of the\ndrawbridge with a noise like to thunder as he rode. And all of the\npeople of the castle crowded out upon the walls, and when they beheld\nhim ride past in that wise, they shouted with a loud voice because that\nsuch a champion was to defend the rights of their lady chatelaine.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine doeth battle for the lady of the castle._]\n\nBut when the knight and his companions who had come against the lady of\nthe castle beheld that one champion ride forth in defence thereof, he\nwas greatly surprised, and wist not what to think. So presently he rode\nforward to meet Sir Ewaine, and he said to him, \"Sir, what knight art\nthou?\" Sir Ewaine said: \"I am the champion of the lady of this castle,\nand I come forth with intent to do battle in her behalf.\" Then that lord\nsaid, \"What is thy estate?\" To the which, Sir Ewaine, speaking with\ngreat pride and haughtiness, made reply: \"It matters not that I tell\nthee at this present, but I may assure thee of this, that mine is a\nhigher estate and a greater credit than thine own.\" Then the knight\nsaid, \"Wouldst thou fight against us who are seven?\" And Sir Ewaine\nsaid, \"Yea, verily.\" And the knight said, \"Thou art very foolish, but be\nit so.\"\n\nSo Sir Ewaine withdrew himself a little, and made himself ready in all\nwise for battle. Meantime that knight who had bespoken him withdrew to\nhis party and he said to a knight who was the champion of his party, \"Go\nthou forth against yon fellow.\" And the champion of that party did so.\n\nNow that knight was the greatest and most powerful knight in all the\ncountry in which he dwelt. And he was very huge of girth and thick of\nlimb, and so great had been his success at arms that he made sure that\nhe could easily be able to overthrow his opponent. Wherefore he made him\nready very proudly and took his station with great confidence. And when\nhe was in all wise prepared, he shouted aloud and launched his horse\nagainst the horse of Sir Ewaine with full expectation that he would\noverthrow his enemy.\n\nSo they two rushed together like thunder and so met in the very middle\nof the course with such a crash of encounter that those who heard it\nstood appalled at the sound. But in that encounter the spear of the\nchampion of that wicked lord's party broke all into splinters, but the\nspear of Sir Ewaine held so that the other was cast to earth with such\nforce that he lay stunned and altogether devoid of life and motion.\n\n[Sidenote: _How Sir Ewaine overthrew the enemies of the lady._]\n\nThen when the other knights of that party beheld how their champion had\nbeen overthrown so violently to earth, all they were greatly amazed at\nthe result of that encounter; for as was said, there was no knight in\nall of that region who was so strong as that champion. Then they were\nfilled with rage, and dropping their lances in rest, they all rushed\nupon Sir Ewaine together, with intent to overthrow him by force of\nnumbers and might of metal, and afterward to slay him when he was\nunhorsed. But Sir Ewaine did not give them their will, but wheeled his\nhorse with great address and dexterity and in such a wise as to separate\nthose who thus came upon him in a body. Then suddenly he wheeled about\nagain, and ere they were prepared for attack, he smote down one knight\nand then another and another, so that only three of those who assailed\nhim were left. With that the others were filled with a great terror of\nthe woeful buffets that Sir Ewaine struck, wherefore, without further\ncombat, they all three turned and fled. But ever Sir Ewaine pursued them\nwith great fury and he came nigh to one who was fleeing and smote him\ndown from his horse. And he came nigh to another and smote him down\nalso. Then last of all he overtook that lord who was the enemy of that\nlady, and he smote him so sorely with his sword that he would have\nfallen from his horse had not Sir Ewaine catched him ere he fell. Then\nSir Ewaine plucked that knight out of his saddle and he laid him across\nthe bow of his own saddle. So after having overthrown all those seven\nknights in that wise, he rode back again into the castle bearing that\nwicked lord lying across his saddle bow.\n\nNow when those who stood upon the castle walls beheld what wonderful\nbattle their champion did, they were amazed beyond measure at his\nprowess and they shouted aloud for joy at the victory of their champion\nover their enemies. So Sir Ewaine rode into the castle, in the midst of\nall that shouting and loud acclaim. And he came to where the lady was\nstanding in a balcony that overlooked the courtyard of the castle, and\nhe looked up to where she stood and he said: \"Lady, lo! I have brought\nyou back your enemy in payment for that blessed balm with which you\nbrought me back to life.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The lady of the castle giveth praise to Sir Ewaine._]\n\nThen the lady of the castle knew not what to do for joy. Wherefore she\ncame down from where she was and catched Sir Ewaine by the hand and\nkissed it repeatedly. And she called upon Sir Ewaine as her savior, but\nSir Ewaine withdrew his hand in great confusion, and said: \"Lady, do not\ndo so, for wit you I am a man who hath done a dishonorable thing. And\nthough I did that ill thing unwittingly, yet I am attainted because of\nthat which I did.\"\n\nThen the lady said: \"Sir, I will not believe that you were ever\ndishonorable, and I would that you would remain always in this castle.\"\n\nThen Sir Ewaine smiled and said: \"I thank you for that wish. But it may\nnot be, for now that I have done my service in your behalf and have\nbrought your enemy to you to deal with at your pleasure, to-morrow I\nmust depart upon my way once more.\"\n\nThen Sir Ewaine delivered the captive knight from the pommel of his\nsaddle into the hands of the lady, and afterward that wicked knight was\nbound with many securities and hostages to good behavior, and so he\ntormented that lady no more from that time forth unto the end of her\nlife.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine departeth from the castle as a pilgrim._]\n\nNow when the next day was come Sir Ewaine appeared before the lady of\nthe castle and besought her that she would take back the armor she had\ngiven him and that in place of that armor she would purvey him the dress\nof a pilgrim. So that lady did as she was asked, and when she had done\nso Sir Ewaine clad himself as a pilgrim and departed from the castle of\nthat chatelaine.\n\nAnd Sir Ewaine wandered hither and thither as a pilgrim for several\nweeks; and after much journeying he came at last to that valley where\ndwelt the Lady of the Fountain. For ever his will led him thitherward,\nand so it came about that at last he beheld that town and castle once\nmore. And when he beheld that place and when he brought to mind all that\nhad befallen him of good and of ill thereat the tears arose into his\neyes so that all things that he beheld swam as in a flood of water.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine returneth to the Castle of the Fountain._]\n\nThen by and by he went toward that Castle of the Fountain and when he\nhad come thereunto, he knocked upon the postern door and besought those\nwho opened to him that he might have speech with the lady of the castle.\nSo anon he was shown into the apartment where the lady was, and Elose\nwas with her, and several others of the damsels of her court.\n\nNow the hood of the cloak that Sir Ewaine wore, and the pilgrim's hat,\nso concealed his face that no one who was there knew who he was.\nWherefore the Lady Lesolie, speaking as to a stranger, said, \"Sir, what\nwouldst thou have of me?\" And Sir Ewaine answered saying: \"Lady, I come\nhither to bear to you a message from one who has unwittingly done you a\ngreat injury.\"\n\nUpon this the lady cried out very vehemently: \"Sir, if you come from\nthat recreant knight, Sir Ewaine, then you may return unto him again\nwho hath sent you hither.\" To which Sir Ewaine said, \"Lady, I cannot\nreturn unto him, for it would be impossible.\"\n\nAt these words the Lady Lesolie's countenance fell, and for a while she\nspake not. Then after a while she said, \"Dost thou bring ill news of\nhim?\" And Sir Ewaine said: \"I know not whether the news be ill unto thee\nor not, but some while ago I beheld that unfortunate knight where he lay\ndying in a park beside a lake of water.\"\n\nThen the Lady of the Fountain pressed her handkerchief to her lips as\nthough to check an outcry, and after a little while she said, \"Good Sir,\ntell me what you know.\" Sir Ewaine said, \"I will do so.\" And he said:\n\"You are to know that when Sir Ewaine left this court to return to the\ncourt of King Arthur, he fell in with the Enchantress Vivien, who gave\nhim a ring of forgetfulness so that he disremembered all that had\nhappened to him at your court. Afterward there came a young damsel from\nthis place who put him to shame before all those who were his companions\nat the court of King Arthur. This that damsel did because she thought\nthat Sir Ewaine was unfaithful to you. But he was not unfaithful and so\nhe was shamed for no good reason. Now after being thus shamed before all\nthe court of King Arthur in that wise, this woeful knight departed from\nhis friends because he could not bear to dwell in his humiliation before\nthem. So he left all those his friends and journeyed afar, and in his\njourneyings he fell among thieves, and these finding him unarmed, bound\nhim whilst he slept, and robbed him and wounded him to death. So it was\nthat I beheld him lying by the wayside, pierced through with a javelin\nand dying of that wound, and so have I come thither to tell you of this\nstory.\"\n\nNow when the Lady of the Fountain heard what that pilgrim had to say,\nshe shrieked with great violence and immediately swooned away and fell\nupon the ground.\n\nThen several of her maidens ran to her and these served her until by and\nby she revived from her swoon. Yet when she was thus recovered she\nstraightway fell to smiting her hands together and crying aloud in a\nvery bitter agony of spirit: \"Woe is me that I should have disbelieved\nin the honor of that noble and worthy knight, for now because of my\ndisbelief in him I perceive that I have lost him forever. For so hath\ndied the best and truest knight that ever lived in all of the world.\"\nSaying this, she fell to weeping in great measure, and Elose strove to\ncomfort her, also weeping, but the lady would not be comforted. Then Sir\nEwaine said, \"Lady, hast thou yet such a kind regard for the knight as\nthis?\" And the Lady Lesolie said with great passion: \"Yea, truly, and so\nI always shall have, for methinks that never such another knight as he\nlived in this world.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine declareth himself to the Lady of the Fountain._]\n\nThen Sir Ewaine said: \"Lady, you understood not my words. Sir Ewaine is\nnot dead, and if you will you may easily have him here again.\" She said,\n\"How know you that?\" Then Sir Ewaine cast off his hood and laid aside\nhis hat and said: \"Lady, I am that man; and if I have deceived thee in\nthis, it is that I may again behold thy face that is so dear to me--yea,\nthat is dearer than all the world besides.\" So saying, Sir Ewaine\nkneeled before the lady and embraced her about the knees, and she\nstooped and embraced his head and both of them wept with a great passion\nof love and joy. And so they were reconciled to one another.\n\nAnd in that reconciliation there was much rejoicing, for all the town\nwas bedraped with silken scarves and banners by day and illuminated by\nnight because of joy for the return of the champion-defender of the\nFountain. And there was feasting and drinking at the castle of the\nFountain, and there was jousting from day to day for seven days, and in\nthose joustings the knights of the court of the Fountain under the lead\nof Sir Ewaine defended their chivalry with such skill and valor that\nnone of those that came against them were able to withstand them, but\nall those companies of knights-contestant were defeated, to the great\nglory of the Lady Lesolie of the Fountain.\n\nThen after seven days of this rejoicing, Sir Ewaine was wedded with\ngreat pomp of circumstance to the Lady of the Fountain. And of that\nwedding it is to be recorded in the history of these things that Sir\nEwaine and the Lady Lesolie rode to the minster upon milk-white horses,\nand that they were all clad in white samite embroidered with silver and\ninset with so many precious stones of all sorts and kinds that they\nglistened in the sunlight as though they were two figures of living\nfire. And it is recorded that tenscore damsels of wonderful beauty, clad\nall in white, preceded them upon the way, and spread the way with\nflowers, chaunting the while in voices of great rejoicing.\n\nThus Sir Ewaine was wedded at the castle of the Fountain, and after that\nhe dwelt in the land of the Fountain with great peace and good content.\n\nAnd Sir Ewaine ever defended the Fountain as he had aforetime, so that\nthe fame of the Knight of the Fountain was known throughout the length\nand breadth of the land and in every court of chivalry. And many knights\nundertook the Adventure of the Fountain but in every case such errant\nknights were overthrown by the valor and the skill of the Knight of the\nFountain. And in every case where that knight adventurer was thus\noverthrown, the Knight of the Fountain would take from him his horse and\nhis shield and would send him away upon foot, disarmed and ashamed.\n\nSo, because of the valor of the Knight of the Fountain, it came about in\ncourse of time that a very noble and worthy court of chivalry became\nestablished at the castle of the city of the Fountain, insomuch that the\nrenown of that court of the Fountain hath been handed down in the\nhistories of chivalry even to this day, when knighthood no longer\ndwelleth upon the earth.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSuch is the history of Sir Ewaine when he undertook the Adventure of the\nFountain whilst upon the quest of Sir Launcelot. And now if you choose\nto read further you shall hear how Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore found\nSir Launcelot in the Island of Joy and of how Sir Launcelot returned to\nhis friends once more.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nPART VI\n\nThe Return of Sir Launcelot\n\n\n_Here followeth the further history of Sir Launcelot of the Lake; of how\nSir Percival and Sir Ector de Maris found Sir Launcelot where he was\ndwelling very peacefully and happily (albeit not with perfect content)\nin the Island of Joy, of which you have heard mention in that which hath\ngone before; of the notable affair-at-arms betwixt Sir Launcelot and Sir\nPercival, and of how Sir Launcelot, with Elaine the Fair, returned with\nSir Percival and Sir Ector de Maris to the court of King Arthur.\nLikewise you shall there read of what befell that noble company in the\nValley of the Fountain aforetold of.\n\nAll this history is of such a sort that it hath given me great pleasure\nto write it; wherefore if so be it may give you a like sort of pleasure\nto read it, then shall I be very well content with that which I have\ndone in my endeavor to set forth these several events aforesaid._\n\n[Illustration: Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival receive their Mother's\nBlessing:]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter First\n\n_How Sir Percival met his brother, and how they two journeyed to the\npriory where their mother dwelt and what befell them thereafter._\n\n\nNow return we to Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore whom Sir Ewaine left (as\naforetold of) still sleeping in that castle whence we departed so early\nin the morning--even before the break of day--to undertake the Adventure\nof the Fountain.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore depart together._]\n\nWhen those two good knights awoke and founds that Sir Ewaine had\ndeparted, they communed together in the bedchamber of Sir Percival. And\nthey agreed that thereafter they two should join company and that in\ntheir further search for Sir Launcelot they should travel together as\ncompanions. So when they had broken their fast, they bade farewell to\nthe lord of the castle, and departed upon their way, travelling very\ncheerfully together, side by side, and taking great joy in the gay and\njocund weather, and in all the sweet freshness and the warmth of the\nspringtide that embalmed them around about.\n\nSo they travelled as companions in arms for more than a year, and in\nthat time they met with several bel-adventures, some of which are told\nof in books of chivalry and some of which are not told of. And I would\nthat I could recount those adventures that befell them, but I cannot,\nfor it would take another book as great as this to tell all of the\nthings that happened to them in their journeyings. Yet it shall here be\nsaid that in those adventurings they fell in with a great many sorts of\nfolk of different condition, both gentle and simple, and that several\ntimes they met certain knights-companion of the Round Table. And it\nshall here be said that they met in that wise with Sir Gawaine and Sir\nBors de Ganis, concerning which meeting there shall be more said anon.\n\n[Sidenote: _Of the manner in which they journey._]\n\nAnd if you would ask how they lodged them during their travels I would\nsay that they lodged them in divers sorts and ways. For if it happened\nthat at one time they would lodge them in such a noble castle as that\nwhere Sir Gawaine and Sir Percival met Sir Sagramore, then it would\nhappen at another time that they would find shelter in the hut of some\nlonely shepherd upon the moorlands, and then it would happen at still\nanother time that they would even have no shelter at all, but would\nmaybe wrap themselves each in his cloak with nothing beneath him for a\nbed but the cold honest earth, and nothing above him for a coverlet but\nthe silent company of God's own sky, all sprinkled over with a countless\nmultitude of brightly shining stars. For so those good knights of old\ntravelled errant in those days, taking whatever befell them in good\npart, and accepting all that came to them with a cheerful spirit.\n\nIf you would ask me in what sort of weather they travelled, I would tell\nyou that they were content with whatsoever weather God sent to them; for\nif the weather were pleasant, as upon that first day of their journey,\nthen they would travel very cheerfully up hill and down dale, in\nsunshine or shadow as the case might be; and if the weather were foul,\nthen they would abide wheresoever heaven sent them shelter wherein to\nstay until the storm would pass by and be gone.\n\nFor this is true, that even wintry weather cannot chill a cheerful\nheart; wherefore, when the north wind would bluster loud and\nboisterously, and when the falling snow would be covering all the earth\nwith frozen white, then those two worthy champions would be well content\nto lodge them at some wayside inn. For there they might warm them beside\nthe roaring fire, whereof the blaze would shine in red sparks of light\nat several places upon the polished plates of their armor, and whilst\nthey took cheer in the heat of the fire, and whilst they listened to the\nstorm, how it beat and drummed upon the windows, and whilst they\nharkened at the wind, how it roared and thundered about the gables of\nthe house, that while they would take great pleasure in the company of\nthe good folk of the neighborhood, who would be gathered around a merry\nbowl of hot mulled ale, with roasted crab-apples bobbing afloat in it,\nsinging merry songs the while and telling jolly contes, and laughing and\nmaking rude and homely sport in several ways that afforded good\nentertainment to those two belted knights who listened thereunto.\n\nThus you may know how in several ways it was that those two good worthy\nknights travelled during that considerable time when they were\njourneying together as companions in arms, for in this wise I have taken\ngreat pleasure in telling you thereof.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore come to a fair valley._]\n\nNow after those two had thus been companions in amity together for the\nspace of a year or a little more than a year, it chanced upon a certain\nday that they found themselves at a place where a woodland ceased and\nwhere there began a very fair valley with a smooth shining river winding\nlike a ribbon down the length thereof. And they sat at the head of that\nvalley and they gazed down for some while thereinto, and they beheld\nthat valley with great joy because it was so fair and fruitful. For in\nit were several meadow-lands, all smiling with verdure, and there were\nmany fields of growing corn, and these fields and meadows rose ever\nupward until they cut against the sky, as smooth with fertility as\nthough carved out with the edge of a sharp keen knife. And beside the\nriver were banks of reeds and rushes and pollard willows and thickets of\nalder and aspen. And the broad highroad followed the course of the\nstream and there were several mills in the valley and broad ponds of\nwater with bosky trees and with houses clustered upon the banks thereof.\nAnd ever the breeze blew mild and steady, and very balmy and warm, and\ngreat round white clouds moved slowly across the high arch of the bright\nblue sky.\n\nAll this Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore beheld and they took such joy in\nit that so I cannot forbear to tell you of it as I have done because of\nthe joy that I also take in what they beheld. Wherefore I pray you to\nforgive me if I have recounted more of those things than need be, who am\nwriting a history of chivalry and of knightly daring.\n\nSo those two worthies sat there where were the highlands at the edge of\nthe forest, and gazed their fill down upon that valley, all spread out,\nas it were, upon a table beneath them, and when they had thus gazed\ntheir fill they aroused themselves from their pleasant contemplations\nand descended down into that valley, riding along beside the shining\nriver.\n\nSo they followed the highway, and by and by came to where the road\ncrossed the river by a high-arched bridge of stone. At that place were\nseveral houses of stone with white walls that stood sheltered with\ngreat, umbrageous trees and the walls of the houses touched the edge of\nthe smooth and gently flowing river. Coadjacent to this place was a mill\nand a sheet of wide-spreading bright water where were so many swifts,\nflitting hither and thither above the smooth surface, that they\nresembled bees flying about a hive upon a warm day in June.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore meet a knight at the\nbridge._]\n\nNow as Sir Sagramore and Sir Percival approached that bridge aforesaid\nwith intent to cross it, they were presently aware of another knight who\ncame toward them from the other end thereof. And as they went forward he\nalso came forward so that it was likely that they three would meet in\nthe midst of the bridge. And they beheld that the knight rode upon a\ngreat Flemish charger as black as a coal, and that he was of a very\nnoble, haughty appearance, showing no fear at their advance, though they\nwere two and he was but one. For ever he rode forward very boldly, and\nwith great spirit, even though it would bring him to meet them in the\nmiddle of the way.\n\nThere was no device of any sort upon the shield or the armor of that\nknight, for it appeared that he was minded to travel unknown; so they\nwist not who he was, but in his appearance they beheld that he was\nstrong and big and very lusty.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore exchanges words with the knight on the\nbridge._]\n\nThen as they approached one another Sir Sagramore bespake that knight,\nsaying: \"Sir, what mean you, coming so boldly thus against us? Would you\nwho are one against two dispute the passage of this bridge with us?\"\n\nTo this the other said: \"Messire, I have no mind to assume any dispute\nwith you; yet you must be aware that it would ill beseem any one of true\nknightly courage to draw aside and to give you way. For, as you say, you\nare two and I am but one; wherefore, if I should withdraw me from this\nmeeting it might be that you would impute a lack of courage to me. So,\nmeseems, it would be better for you to give way for me, for you could do\nso without any impeachment of fear, whilst I would do an injury to the\npure nobility of my knighthood if I should give way to you.\"\n\nThen Sir Sagramore said: \"Sir Knight, it need not be that there should\nbe two of us against one. Let my companion withdraw to the farther side\nof the bridge and let us two try a fall together. So it shall be decided\nwhich of us shall of a verity have the right first to cross this\nbridge.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the stranger knight, \"that falleth in with my will in the\nmatter; therefore let it be as you say.\"\n\nSo, it being thus decided, Sir Percival drew away from the bridge upon\nhis side, and those two knights-contestant made each himself ready for\ncombat. Each chose his station, and when they were in all wise\nprepared, each set spur to horse and shouted to the assault and so\ndashed together across the space of bridge, each in a cloud of dust and\nwith a noise like to thunder of horses' hoof beats upon the roadway of\nthe bridge.\n\n[Sidenote: _The strange knight overthrows Sir Sagramore._]\n\nSo they met in the very centre of the bridge with a crash one might have\nheard a furlong or more away. In that encounter the spear of Sir\nSagramore broke into many pieces but the spear of the other knight held\nso that Sir Sagramore was hurtled with great violence over the crupper\nof his horse, and, striking the ground with a roar of falling armor, he\nlay there like one who had been struck dead.\n\nNow Sir Percival was greatly astonished to see so potent a knight as Sir\nSagramore thus overthrown, wherefore he hurried forward with all speed\nto where his companion lay upon the ground. And Sir Percival leaped from\nhis horse and went to his friend and found that he was not dead but only\nstunned by the violence of the fall he had suffered. For anon Sir\nSagramore began to move and to bestir himself and so, after another\nwhile, Sir Percival was able to raise him up and set him upon his feet\nagain, albeit Sir Sagramore's head was as light as a feather and swam\nlike to running water.\n\nNow all this while that other knight had been sitting very steadfastly\nobserving Sir Percival what he was about. So when he beheld that no\ngreat harm had befallen that knight whom he had overthrown, he spake to\nSir Percival, saying: \"Sir Knight, are you satisfied upon your part, or\nwill you also have to do with me in disputing the pass of this bridge?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" quoth Sir Percival, \"I would fain have had you go in peace, but\nsince you have thus offered me the chance of battle or no battle, lo! I\nhave no such choice, but must needs take this knight's quarrel upon\nmyself. So make you ready that I may avenge his fall upon you.\"\n\nTherewith Sir Percival gat Sir Sagramore to horse and cleared the bridge\nof him. Then he mounted upon his own horse and made him ready for that\nassault which he had undertaken.\n\nSo when he was in all wise prepared and perceiving that his enemy was\nalso ready, he shouted to the charge and therewith drave forward in the\nassault.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and the strange knight do battle together._]\n\nThen again those two knights-contestant met in the centre of the bridge\nwith such a violence of meeting that the spear of each was broken into\nsplinters to the very truncheon thereof. And each would have fallen\nbefore the assault of the other except that, with spur and bridle-rein,\neach uplifted his charger to foot again. Thereupon, having no spear\nwherewith to do further battle, each knight voided his saddle and each\ndrew his sword and made him ready for further battle. So they came\ntogether to assault afoot, and presently each fell to lashing at the\nother such violent buffets that the sound thereof could be heard in echo\nboth far and near.\n\nSo they fought for a long time and in that while neither gained any\nadvantage whatsoever over the other. But ever Sir Percival was more and\nmore astonished at the valor and the prowess of his enemy, for, unless\nit were Sir Launcelot of the Lake, he knew not of any one in that land\nwho might withstand his assault unless it were his own brother, Sir\nLamorack.\n\nSo by and by Sir Percival stinted his battle, and he cried out, \"Hold,\nSir Knight!\" and therewith upon that demand the other also stayed his\nassault, and stood leaning upon his sword, panting from the violence of\nthe battle he had done.\n\nThen Sir Percival said: \"Sir, you assuredly fight a very wonderful\nbattle, for I knew not there was any knight in this realm could\nwithstand my assault, unless it were Sir Launcelot of the Lake or mine\nown brother who is Sir Lamorack of Gales. Wherefore I much marvel who\nyou can be. Now I pray you tell me, are you Sir Launcelot, or are you my\nbrother, Sir Lamorack?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival declare themselves._]\n\nSo spake Sir Percival, and at those words that other knight cried out in\na loud voice: \"What say you! What say you! Who are you who layeth claim\nto be brother to Sir Lamorack of Gales? Know I myself am Sir Lamorack of\nGales, so that if you are my brother, then you can be none other than\nthat good worthy knight Sir Percival.\"\n\nThen Sir Percival cried out in a loud voice, \"I am indeed Sir Percival!\"\nand with that he uplifted the umbril of his helmet and showed his face.\nSo also Sir Lamorack (for that other knight was indeed he) uplifted the\numbril of his helmet and showed his face.\n\nThen when Sir Percival beheld his brother's face and wist that it was\nindeed he against whom he had been doing battle, he cried out aloud: \"My\nbrother! My brother! Is it indeed thou with whom I have fought!\" And Sir\nLamorack also cried out, \"My brother! My brother!\" and thereupon each\nran to the other and embraced him in his arms. And each kissed the other\nupon his cheek in great affection of spirit.\n\nThen Sir Lamorack said: \"My brother, I prithee tell me who was that\nknight whom I chanced to overthrow but now?\" and Sir Percival said,\n\"That was Sir Sagramore.\" Sir Lamorack said: \"That is a great pity that\nI should have assaulted him and done him a hurt. Let us now go see how\nhe doeth.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Lamorack knoweth Sir Sagramore._]\n\nSo they two went together to where Sir Sagramore was, and they found\nthat he was now altogether recovered from his fall. And when Sir\nSagramore heard that it was Sir Lamorack against whom he had run atilt,\nhe made great exclamation of astonishment and he said: \"Hah! I am not at\nall surprised that I should have met with such a mishap as that fall\nwhich I suffered, seeing that it was thou, Sir Lamorack, against whom I\nran atilt.\"\n\nAfter that there was much amicable talk betwixt the three. And after\nthey had so talked for a considerable while, Sir Percival said to Sir\nLamorack, \"My brother, whither goest thou?\" To this Sir Lamorack said:\n\"I go to visit our mother at the Priory of Saint Bridget's. For wit you\nit hath now been three years since either of us hath seen her.\" Quoth\nSir Percival: \"Brother, what thou sayst is true, and I am greatly\nashamed that it should be so long a time since I have beheld our mother.\nNow I am of a mind to go with thee upon this errand, and I will do so if\nmy companion, Sir Sagramore, is willing to part company with me.\" And\nSir Lamorack said, \"I pray you do so.\"\n\nThen Sir Sagramore said to Sir Percival: \"Sir, I would not stay you from\nyour duty. Go you with your brother in God's name and think naught of\nme.\" And Sir Percival said, \"I will do so.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack depart together._]\n\nSo after a little while longer of friendly talk, Sir Percival and Sir\nLamorack bade adieu to Sir Sagramore, and after that the two brothers\nbetook their way toward the Priory of St. Bridget's as aforesaid and Sir\nSagramore went his way alone.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack behold their mother._]\n\nSo Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack travelled upon their way for all that\nday, and upon the afternoon of the second day they came to that place\nwhere was the Priory of St. Bridget. Then you may suppose what joy that\nnoble lady prioress, their mother, had in beholding her two knightly\nsons side by side before her once more. For it is recorded that when she\nbeheld those two noble lords kneeling upon the ground so that she might\nbestow her blessing upon them, she wept very tenderly and said: \"Ah, my\ndear sons! When your father was slain he left me four sons, of whom\ntwain were slain by treachery so that now but you two are alive.\" And\nshe said: \"I pray God He may take you into His keeping and cherish you\nin all ways that be for your good, so that you may be spared your lives\nand not perish by violence as did your father and your two brothers.\"\n\nAfter that they three sat together talking very tenderly to one another;\nand they sat together far into the night, so that it was past midnight\nwhen they parted company to seek their repose. And as they said good\nnight to their mother, Sir Percival said: \"Before the dawn of day\ncometh, dear mother, I must depart upon my journey once more.\" And Sir\nLamorack said: \"Is it so? Then I must depart with thee, my brother, for\nto keep thee company.\" At that the lady prioress fell to weeping, and\nstill weeping she kissed them both and prayed that God might shield them\nboth from sin and sorrow; and so they parted for the night.\n\nSo it befell that upon the first breaking of the morn, they two took\nhorse and departed from that place. And when the lady prioress awoke,\nthey were far upon their way. Then when the lady, their mother, found\nthem gone, she cried out, \"Alas! who would be a mother to suffer such\npartings as these!\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack depart from the Priory._]\n\nNow after Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival had left the Priory of St.\nBridget's in that wise, they rode side by side through the dawning of\nthe day, what time a thin, cool mist like to a veil of silver lay all\nabout the meadow-lands; what time everywhere the birds were singing\ntheir pretty matins with great joy; what time the leaves of the trees\nrustled with the first breath of the coming day. Anon the sky grew\nbright like to shining silver, very clear and remote, and then anon\nuprose the glorious sun and sent his beams across the meadow-land and\nwold.\n\nThen Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack drew rein and dismounted each from\nhis steed. Each turned his horse to grass and then each opened his\nwallet and broke his fast, quenching his thirst at a forest fountain\nthat burst out of a cleft rock near by, as clear as crystal and as cold\nas ice.\n\nAfter that they had thus refreshed themselves they took horse again and\nonce more travelled onward as before.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack hear a voice lamenting._]\n\nNow about the middle of the day, they being then journeying in a leafy\nwoodland, they became aware of a sound of lamentation in a part of the\nforest and they wist that there was in that place some one who was in\ndistress. So with one accord they followed that sound of lamentation a\nlittle to one side, and away from the path, and so, by and by, they came\nto a certain open glade of the woodlands where they perceived the figure\nof a knight stretched out upon the ground. And that knight was covered\nwith blood and his armor was cleft and broken as with battle. Beside the\nknight there knelt an esquire clad all in garments pied of red and\nwhite. And as the esquire thus kneeled beside the knight he wiped the\nface of the knight continually with a napkin, and ever made that outcry\nof sorrow which they two had heard from a distance.\n\nThen Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack rode forward into that glade and\nwhen the esquire perceived those two strange knights coming toward him,\nhe arose and stood as though not rightly knowing whether to flee away or\nto remain where he was. This Sir Lamorack perceived and so called out:\n\"Fair youth, be not afraid, but stay and tell us what is this sad sight\nwhich we behold, for we are knights errant and we mean ye well and not\nill.\"\n\nSo the esquire, perceiving their intention to be friendly, remained\nwhere he was, and thereupon they two rode up to him and to where that\nfigure of misfortune lay stretched in his blood upon the ground. Then\nSir Lamorack said: \"Is this noble knight living, or is he dead?\" And the\nesquire said, \"Alas, Messire! He is not dead, but mefeareth he is\ndying.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack succor a wounded knight._]\n\nThen Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival dismounted from their horses and they\nwent to where lay the unfortunate knight aforesaid. And they examined\nhim to see whether he were alive; and for a while they thought that he\nwas dead, but after a while they perceived that he was not dead, but\nthat he was grievously wounded and very nigh to death. Then Sir Lamorack\nlifted up his face and looked at that esquire, and he said, \"Who is this\nknight, and how came he here?\" \"Messire,\" quoth the esquire, \"I will\ntell you all. This is a very worthy knight hight Sir Tarn. He and his\nlady with only myself in attendance were riding this morning through\nthis part of the forest with intent to go to the castle of a brother of\nSir Tarn's. Right as we rode thus, there met us a very cruel and savage\nknight of these marches hight Sir Godwin. This Sir Godwin had with him\nseveral armed men and these fell upon my lord and his lady, and him they\nstruck down with many dolorous blows and left for dead and her they have\nled captive away with them. As for me, I escaped from their hands into\nthe thick woodlands and after they had gone I returned hither to lend\nsuch aid as I might to my sad, unfortunate lord.\"\n\n\"Ha!\" said Sir Lamorack, \"this is a very sorry story and that is indeed\na wicked and unkindly knight who treated thy lord in this wise. Well do\nI know this Sir Godwin, for I slew his brother, Sir Gaudelin, for such\nanother piece of mischief as this of which thou complainest.\" And Sir\nLamorack said to Sir Percival: \"Brother, let us put this good knight to\nsuch ease and comfort as we may, and then let us go to the castle of Sir\nGodwin and succor that lady of Sir Tarn whom he hath taken away\ncaptive.\" And Sir Percival also said, \"Let us do so.\"\n\nSo they two dismounted from their horses and, with the help of that\nesquire they eased Sir Tarn of his armor. After that they searched his\nwounds and bathed them from the waters of a near-by fountain of the\nforest. And they bound up those wounds with such bandages as they had at\nhand and so brought all the ease and comfort they were able to the\nwounded man. So anon Sir Tarn opened his eyes and sighed, and anon he\nmoved and upraised himself upon his elbow.\n\nThen Sir Lamorack said: \"Lie still, Sir Tarn, and move not for this\nwhile and until thou art better than thou now art. And take comfort to\nthyself, for I am Sir Lamorack of Gales and this is my brother, Sir\nPercival of Gales, and presently we go to the castle of Sir Godwin for\nto succor thy lady and to bring her to thee again. For indeed I have\ngreat faith that God will be with us in that undertaking, and that we\nshall bring you peace of soul as we have brought you comfort of body.\"\n\nSo Sir Lamorack comforted Sir Tarn, and after that they bade the wounded\nman adieu for the time and so left him and departed thence, betaking\ntheir way to the castle of Sir Godwin.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack come to the castle of Sir\nGodwin._]\n\nSo after a while they perceived the castle of Sir Godwin where it was in\nthe midst of the woodland. And they came close to the castle and when\nthey were very near they dismounted from their horses and tied the\nbridles each to a sapling. After that they two went up to the gate of\nthe castle and demanded admission.\n\nThen presently the porter came to the gate and looked forth at them\nthrough the wicket, and he said: \"Who are ye that demand admission, and\nwhat is your business?\" Sir Lamorack said: \"We be two knights who come\nto demand of Sir Godwin full satisfaction for the wounding of Sir Tarn\nand to demand that the lady of Sir Tarn be set free from durance.\"\n\nSo spake Sir Lamorack, and thereat the porter laughed and said: \"Certes,\nye be mad, or else ye be two fearless men to come thus upon such an\nerrand.\" Therewith he shut the wicket and went away. And he went to\nwhere Sir Godwin was and told him how those two knights had come thither\nand what was their business.\n\nWhen Sir Godwin heard that message he also laughed and he said to the\nporter: \"Go thou and admit these two knights, and when they have entered\nthe courtyard do thou shut to the gate after them. So we will have them\ncatched as in a trap. After that we may deal with them as we please.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack enter the castle of Sir\nGodwin._]\n\nSo the porter did as Sir Godwin commanded; he went and opened the gates\nto Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival and he said, \"Come in!\" and when they\nwere within the castle he shut to the gate again so that they might not\ngo forth until they of the castle chose to let them out again. And at\nthat time Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack were in a courtyard of the\ncastle and there was no way whereby they might escape from that place\nupon any side, for all the doors and passes were closed against them.\n\nAnon came Sir Godwin, the lord of the castle, clad all in full armor.\nAnd he appeared at a balcony that overlooked the courtyard beneath, and\nhe said: \"Who are ye who come hither, meddling with that which concerns\nyou not?\"\n\nHim answered Sir Lamorack very boldly: \"Thou wicked and unworthy knight!\nKnow thou that I am Sir Lamorack of Gales, and that I am he who slew thy\nbrother, Sir Gaudelin, for such an offence as this that thou hast this\nmorning committed. I and my brother, Sir Percival, are come hither with\nintent to punish thee for the evil thing which thou hast done this\nmorning, for we will not suffer that such things shall be done as thou\ndoest. For those were like the deeds that thy brother did and for them\nhe died. So repent thee or his fate shall presently be thy fate also\nunless thou dost presently repent and make amends for the injury thou\nhast done.\"\n\nSo spake Sir Lamorack, and at that speech Sir Godwin was so filled with\nrage that it was as though all the light of heaven turned red before his\neyes. For a while he could not speak because of that rage, and then by\nand by he cried out: \"Hah! Hah! Art thou indeed Sir Lamorack who slew my\nbrother? Now I am right glad of that. Make thine orisons, for this night\nthou shalt assuredly sup in Paradise with thy brother for company.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Godwin attacks Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack in force._]\n\nTherewith he departed and was gone, and Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack\nknew not what was to happen next. Then, after a while, a door of the\ncastle was suddenly opened upon the courtyard and a score or more of\nfull-armed men rushed very violently into the space where Sir Lamorack\nand Sir Percival were. At that same time another door was opened upon\nthe other side of the courtyard and thereupon there rushed in Sir Godwin\nand other armed men. All of these ran forward and flung themselves upon\nSir Lamorack and Sir Percival with intent to overthrow them by dint of\nnumbers.\n\nBut when Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack were aware of their coming, they\nstraightway set themselves back to back and each whirled his bright\nshining sword about his head so that it flashed like lightning. Then\nthere befell a great battle in that narrow courtyard, many against two.\nYet ever those two bare themselves very valiantly so that in a little\nspace of time there were six or ten men lying groaning upon the ground,\nand the pavement of the courtyard was become all slippery with blood.\nYea; so great was the terror that those two spread about them that in a\nlittle while they who assaulted them drew away from the death that was\nmeasured out to those who were nearest to the two.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Lamorack slayeth Sir Godwin._]\n\nSo, for a while, there came a pause in that battle, and in that pause\nSir Lamorack perceived where Sir Godwin stood in the midst of the castle\nfolk, urging them to the attack. Thereat of a sudden the madness of\nbattle fell upon Sir Lamorack, so that he waited not for another\nassault, but, shouting aloud, he ran at his enemy, whirling his sword\nabout his head. At that fierce attack the castle folk scattered from\nbefore him like to chaff before the wind, and so Sir Lamorack and Sir\nGodwin stood face to face with no one to stay Sir Lamorack in his\nassault. Then Sir Lamorack whirled his sword and smote such a buffet\nthat though Sir Godwin took that buffet upon his shield, yet his wits\nmelted away from him because of the blow he had received. Then his\ndefences fell low before him, his head hung upon his breast, he\nstaggered, and his thighs trembled with weakness. Then he cried out,\n\"Mercy! Mercy!\" saying those words twice over. But Sir Lamorack would\nnot hear him, but lifting up his sword he smote Sir Godwin again, and\nwith that second stroke Sir Godwin fell down upon his knees to the\nground. Then Sir Lamorack rushed off the helmet of Sir Godwin and he\ncatched Sir Godwin's head by the hair and drew his neck forward. And he\nwhirled up his sword and he smote Sir Godwin's head from his body so\nthat it rolled down upon the stones of the courtyard.\n\nNow when the followers of Sir Godwin beheld how their master was slain\nthey were seized with a great terror of death insomuch that they crowded\naway to the extremities of the courtyard like to rats caught in a pit.\nAnd they held up their hands and cried aloud, \"Mercy! Mercy!\"\n\nThen Sir Lamorack, panting for breath from his fight and leaning upon\nhis sword, said, \"Take your mercy.\" And he said, \"Where is the major of\nthis castle?\" They say, \"We will get him for you, lord,\" and therewith\nseveral ran upon that errand. Anon they came bringing a fat old man all\ntrembling and quaking with fear. This fat old man kneeled down before\nSir Lamorack, and Sir Lamorack said, \"Art thou the major of this place?\"\nAnd he said, \"Yea, Messire.\" Sir Lamorack said, \"What captives have ye\nhere?\" to the which the major replied, \"There be seven captives, and\nfour of those seven are ladies.\" Sir Lamorack said, \"Take us to them.\"\n\nSo upon the command of Sir Lamorack the major arose from his knees,\ntrembling with fear. And he conducted Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival to\nthe keep of the castle and to the secret dungeons that were within the\nkeep. There they found and liberated those seven poor and miserable\ncreatures who were held prisoners in that place.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Lamorack liberates the castle captives._]\n\nAmongst those ladies who were captive was the lady of Sir Tarn, and\namongst the knights who were captive was Sir Percevant of Hind. All\nthese seven captives Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival liberated and they\ngave great praise and loud acclaim to those two most worthy champions\nwho had set them free from their piteous and miserable durance.\n\nThen Sir Lamorack said, \"Where is the treasure of this castle?\" and in\nobedience to that command, the major conducted Sir Lamorack and Sir\nPercival to the treasure-house. There they found twelve great chests\nfull of treasure, which same Sir Godwin had gathered by murder and\nrobbery and rapine.\n\nThen Sir Lamorack said: \"Let this treasure be divided equally amongst\nthese captives so that they may be recompensed for all the misery they\nhave suffered.\"\n\nSo it was done as he commanded and thus it was that those who had been\nso sad in captivity were made glad in their liberation. Nor would Sir\nLamorack take any of that treasure for himself; otherwise he gave it all\nto those who had suffered so much at the hands of Sir Godwin.\n\nThen after all this was accomplished, it being then come eventide, Sir\nLamorack said: \"Let every living soul quit this place, for it is a den\nof thieves, and shall no longer be permitted to stand stone upon stone.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Lamorack setteth fire to the castle._]\n\nSo all they of the castle came and stood without the walls, both young\nand old, strong and weak, man and woman, the sick and the well. And when\nall had thus come forth, Sir Lamorack gave command that torches should\nbe set here and there to the castle. So it was done according to that\ncommand, and in a little while all that castle was in a flame of fire,\nso that the falling night was made bright with the illumination thereof.\n\nIn the light of that illumination Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival rode\naway with the lady of Sir Tarn. And they brought the lady to where the\nwounded man lay--and he had then recovered his strength in a great\nmeasure and was in a way of regaining his life and his health once more.\n\nSo a pavilion was set up over Sir Tarn and after he was in all wise made\ncomfortable, Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack departed from that place and\nwent upon their way, riding through the night and all enwrapped around\nabout by the darkness of the night and of the woodlands.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThus it was that Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival met at that bridge in\nthe valley; thus they visited together their mother, the prioress of St.\nBridget's Priory; thus they destroyed that nest of thieves, and thus\nthey departed once more upon their way.\n\nAnd now followeth the story of how Sir Percival met Sir Ector de Maris;\nof how Sir Percival joined company with Sir Ector; of how they\ndiscovered a certain very wonderful isle in a lake of clear water, and\nof how Sir Ector had to do with a certain knight who was the champion of\nthat island aforesaid.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: Sir Percival and Sir Ector look upon the Isle of Joy:]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Second\n\n_How Sir Percival and Sir Ector de Maris came to a very wonderful place\nwhere was a castle in the midst of a lake._\n\n\nThat night Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival lay in the woodlands, each\nwrapped in his cloak, and each sleeping very soundly after all the\ntravails of the day. And when the next morning had come Sir Percival\nawoke a little before the dawning of the day and Sir Lamorack still\nslept.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival leaveth Sir Lamorack asleep._]\n\nThen Sir Percival bethought him that he must again depart in quest of\nSir Launcelot and that his brother, Sir Lamorack, was not upon that\nquest. So he rose very softly and he went aside and donned his armor so\nquietly that he did not disturb his brother's slumbers. After he had\nthus donned his armor, he took horse and rode alone into the forest,\nleaving Sir Lamorack still asleep where he lay.\n\nAnd Sir Percival traversed that woodland for a long while, not knowing\nwhither he went, but trusting ever to God to bring him out thence all in\ngood time. So as he journeyed he came about the prime of day to a\ncertain open place where there was a crossroad and a wayside shrine and\na little chapel. And as Sir Percival drew nigh to this place, he beheld\nthat a knight in shining armor was kneeling at that wayside shrine,\nreciting his orisons.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival meets with Sir Ector de Maris._]\n\nBeside the kneeling knight there stood a noble dapple-gray war-horse,\nand the spear of the knight leaned against the bole of a near-by oak\ntree, and the shield of the knight hung suspended to the spear. And the\nknight wore neither helm nor bascinet, wherefore Sir Percival could see\nhis face and so could know who he was. And Sir Percival knew that the\nknight who kneeled there was Sir Ector de Maris, the brother of Sir\nLauncelot of the Lake.\n\nNow though Sir Ector heard the sound of the footsteps of the horse as\nSir Percival drew nigh, yet he neither ceased his orisons nor turned his\nhead, but ever continued very steadfastly to recite his prayers. And so\nSir Percival drew rein at a little distance and waited until Sir Ector\nwas done his prayers, nor did he disturb the kneeling knight in any wise\nuntil he had crossed himself and arisen to his feet.\n\nThen Sir Percival said, \"This is well met, Sir Ector,\" and because the\numbril of Sir Percival's helmet was uplifted, Sir Ector knew him and so\nhe said, giving him greeting, \"Well met indeed, Sir Percival.\"\n\nTherewith Sir Percival dismounted from his horse, and he came to Sir\nEctor and clasped Sir Ector in his arms, and each kissed the other upon\nthe cheek as though they had been brothers.\n\nAfter that they went a little to one side and sat them down in the soft\nlong grass of the wayside and beneath the shadow of a wide-spreading\ntree.\n\nThen Sir Percival said to Sir Ector: \"Sir, hast thou any news of thy\nbrother, Sir Launcelot?\" And Sir Ector said: \"Nay, I have no news of\nhim, but I had hoped that you might have news.\"\n\nSir Percival said, \"I have no news,\" and he said, \"Do you still go in\nquest of that noble and gentle knight your brother?\" And Sir Ector said,\n\"Yea.\" Sir Percival said: \"So do I go upon that quest, and I would fain\nthat we might travel somewhile together for the sake of companionship.\"\nAnd Sir Ector said: \"So also would I wish it to be.\"\n\nNow as they thus talked there came the hermit of that chapel to them\nwhere they sat, and he said to them: \"Messires, will ye not break bread\nwith me ere ye depart from this place?\" Whereunto they said: \"Yea;\ngladly will we do so.\"\n\nSo they all went together to the hermit's cell, and therewith he\nprepared for them such food as he had at his dwelling-place; to wit,\nsweet brown bread, with honey of the forest and berries freshly gathered\nfrom the thickets. So those two noble knights ate with great appetite\nand were fully refreshed and their hunger stayed.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Ector ride together._]\n\nThen, after they had thus eaten their fill, they gave many thanks to the\ngood man for their refreshment and so departed from that pleasant place,\nriding side by side together, talking in pleasant discourse, and now and\nthen chanting a bit of song, either one alone or both together. Meantime\nthe warm sun shone very brightly, flickering ever and anon through the\nleaves and blazing of a sudden with a quick and wonderful glory as it\ncatched upon the polished plates of their armor.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Ector behold a fair valley._]\n\nIn this wise Sir Percival and Sir Ector travelled and by and by they\ncame out of that forest. And they travelled for several days, until at\nlast they one day came to a certain place whence they overlooked a\nvalley. Here they drew rein upon the heights and looked down into that\nvalley, and they beheld that it was a very fair place. And in the midst\nthereof they beheld that there was a lake of water, wonderfully clear\nand very blue and tranquil, as it were a part of the bright shining sky\nthat lay within the cup of that valley. And they beheld that in the\nmidst of the lake there was an island, and that upon the island there\nstood a castle, very tall and stately, and with many tall roofs of tile\nthat shone all red like to several separate flames of fire against the\nmild blue sky behind. And they beheld that there was a little town of\nhouses of stone and brick not far away from that castle, and they beheld\nthat the rest of the island was very fertile and green, like to a pure\nemerald of bright fertility. And they beheld that there were several\ngroves and plantations of trees and of fruit-trees at several places\nupon the island, so that, what with this and what with that, it was like\na fragment of paradise planted in that place.\n\nAll these they beheld, as it were, upon the palm of the hand. And after\nthey had gazed for a while, Sir Ector said: \"Methinks that yonder is as\nfair a place as ever I saw in all of my life. Now let us descend\nthitherward and let us seek to discover to what noble lord yonder island\ncastle belongeth.\" To the which Sir Percival said, \"That meeteth\naltogether my wishes.\"\n\nSo thereupon those two rode down into that valley and so came to the\nmargin of the lake. And they beheld that the waters of the lake were as\nclear as crystal and that all around the lake was a strand of yellow\npebbles that appeared like pebbles of gold in the sunlight, wherefore it\nwas as though that lake was altogether surrounded with the ring of gold.\nAnd beyond this strand of pebbles were meadows of long grass and of\nflowers, and chiefly these flowers were daffodils.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Ector ride beside the lake._]\n\nSo those two knights proceeded along that golden strand, all in the\nshining sunlight, until, by and by, they came to a certain part of the\nlake that was nighest to the castle. And the island at that point sloped\nvery gently down to the water, and as these two knights gazed across the\nwaters they saw how that a wide, smooth meadow lay betwixt the castle\nand the waters of the lake, and that the meadow was besprinkled with an\nincredible number of bright daffodil flowers like to the meadows upon\nthe other side of that strand of pebbles. And they perceived that there\nwas a lady standing deep in the long grass of the meadow and in the\nmidst of the flowers, and they saw that she wore many ornaments of gold\nset with jewels and that she carried a sparrow-hawk upon her wrist.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival bespeaketh a lady of Joyous Isle._]\n\n[Sidenote: _Of the champion of Joyous Isle._]\n\nThen Sir Percival called to that lady across the water, saying, \"Lady,\nwhat is this castle and who is the lord thereof?\" To this the lady also\ncalled out in reply (speaking in a voice that was wonderfully high and\nclear), saying: \"This is hight the Joyous Isle and yonder is the castle\nof Joyous Isle, and the lord of the castle is a very noble knight hight,\nle Chevalier Malfait. We of this castle are exceedingly proud of that\nknight, holding him to be the most noble champion in all of the world.\nFor there have been several tournaments and jousts held in these\nmarches, and in none of them hath any one been able to stand against our\nknight. And many knights have come hither at different times to try an\nadventure against our knight, but all these hath he overthrown with\nwonderful skill and strength.\"\n\nThus spake that lady; and to her Sir Percival said: \"Certes, lady, this\nmust be a very noble knight according to your accounting. Now I pray you\ntell me how came so puissant a knight as that into this remote place?\"\n\nQuoth she: \"I cannot rightly tell you that, only I know that he came\nhither as a madman and that he was healed of his madness, and that he\nwas wedded to the daughter of the king of this country, who is one of\nthe most beautiful ladies in the world, and that since then he hath been\nliving here at Joyous Isle.\"\n\nThen Sir Percival said: \"Lady, we came not hither upon any such\nadventure as that of trying the skill of your champion, but what you\ninform us concerning him giveth me a great appetite to try of what\nmettle he is. Now I pray you tell me, how may I come at this knight so\nas to adventure myself against him.\"\n\nAt this the lady laughed, and she said: \"Messire, if such be your wish,\nyou will find yourself very welcome at this place. If you would come at\nthis adventure, you must travel by the margin of the lake a little\nfarther upon the way you are going and until you have come to that part\nof the lake that is back of the castle. There you will find a ferryman\nand his two sons. Make your want known to this ferryman and he will take\nyou into his boat and will ferry both you and your two horses across the\nwater of the lake so that you may come to the other side.\"\n\nSo spake the lady; and after that Sir Percival gave her gramercy and\ntherewith he and Sir Ector took their departure. And so they travelled\nsome little while by the margin of the lake as the lady with the\nsparrow-hawk had directed, and by and by they came to that part of the\nlake that was back of the castle. Here they beheld a vessel such as the\nlady had described, and they beheld a hut beside the margin of the lake;\nand when they called there came forth out of the hut the ferryman and\ntwo others who were his sons. Of these Sir Percival made demand that\nthey should transport him across the lake to the island and thereupon\nthe ferryman immediately prepared to do so.\n\nThen Sir Percival said to Sir Ector: \"Sir, I pray you of your courtesy\nfor one thing,\" and Sir Ector said, \"What is that?\" Sir Percival said:\n\"I pray you that you will abide here and let me undertake this adventure\nalone. For I would not have it that two of us together should go forth\nagainst this one knight. And indeed I have great hope that I may be\nsuccessful in this, even though I go thus alone, wherefore it is that I\npray you of your courtesy that you will abide here, and patiently await\nmy return.\"\n\nSo spake Sir Percival, and Sir Ector said: \"Messire, let it be as you\nsay and I will even abide here at this place and await your return. And\nif you should fail in that which you undertake, then will I also essay\nthis adventure to discover if I may meet with better success.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival passeth to Joyous Isle._]\n\nSo therewith Sir Percival entered the boat, and the ferryman and his two\nsons also entered it, and they bent to their oars and in a little while\nthey had rowed Sir Percival across the water to the island that lay upon\nthe farther side.\n\nThen when Sir Percival had safely come to the island in that wise, he\nrode up toward the castle through that very pleasant meadow aforetold\nof, and so came to the castle gateway. Here he beheld a bugle horn\nhanging by a chain. Then he took that bugle horn into his hands and blew\nupon it until the walls of the castle rang with the sound thereof. Anon,\nin answer to that blast, there came the porter of that castle and looked\nat Sir Percival through the wicket of the gate. And the porter said:\n\"Messire, what would you have of us of this castle?\"\n\nQuoth Sir Percival: \"Good man, I have heard news of the great prowess of\nthe knight-champion of this castle, and so I have come hither to make a\nbetter acquaintance of that prowess. Now I, pray you to go to him and to\ntell him that there hath come an errant knight who would fain do battle\nwith him in a friendly tilt if so be he will come forth hither without\nthe castle and meet me in the meadow that lieth beneath the walls. For\nthat meadow is a pleasant place, smooth and level, where two knights may\nhave great joy in running atilt in friendly contest.\"\n\n\"Messire,\" quoth the porter, \"it needs not that the knight of this\ncastle should come forth out of the castle to meet you. For inside of\nthis castle is a very pleasant tilt yard, and there is a gallery around\nabout the tilt yard whence the lords and ladies of this place may view\nthe contest between you and our knight. Wherefore, I pray you enter and\ntake no fear, for you will be very well received at this place.\"\n\n\"I give you gramercy,\" said Sir Percival, \"and I find that this is\nindeed a very gentle and kindly place whereunto I have come. So I pray\nyou give me way and I will enter as you desire me to do.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival entereth the castle of Joyous Isle._]\n\nSo anon the portcullis of the castle was raised and the drawbridge was\nlet fall and thereupon Sir Percival rode forward across the drawbridge\nand entered the castle and the courtyard thereof, the iron hoofs of his\nhorse sounding very loud and noisy upon the stones of the pavement.\n\nThen immediately there came several esquires running to him and asked of\nhim what was his will and why he had come to that place. Sir Percival\ntold them what he would have, and that he would have a friendly contest\nof arms with the knight of that place; whereunto the esquires said, \"It\nshall be as you desire.\"\n\nSo two of those esquires ran to find the knight of the castle to tell\nhim how that a challenger was come to run atilt against him, and\nmeantime several other esquires led Sir Percival's horse to the tilt\nyard of the castle and others still again brought him a cup of fair\nspiced wine for his refreshment. Anon the folk of the castle began to\ngather in the balcony that overlooked the tilt yard, and Sir Percival,\ncasting upward his eyes toward those who gathered there, beheld that\nthat was as fair a court of chivalry as ever had looked down upon any\nbattle that he had fought in all of his life.\n\nAfter that, and by and by, there came the knight-champion of the castle,\nriding into the farther extremity of the tilt yard, and when Sir\nPercival looked upon him it seemed to him that he had hardly ever seen\nso noble and haughty a figure as that castle champion presented.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival doeth battle with the champion of Joyous\nIsle._]\n\nThen straightway those two knights prepared each himself for the\nencounter, and when they were in all ways made ready the marshal of the\nlists came forward and proclaimed the conditions of battle--that it was\nto be ahorseback or afoot as the knights-contestant chose. After that\nproclamation the marshal withdrew a little to one side. Then he called\nupon those knights to make them ready. Then in another little while, and\nbeholding that they were both ready in all wise, he blew a loud blast\nupon his trumpet, whereupon in an instant they quitted each his post and\nlaunched the one against the other like to two bulls rushing together in\na charge. So they two met in the midst of the course with such an uproar\nof encounter that the ears of those who stood near by were stunned with\nthe noise thereof.\n\nIn that encounter each knight splintered his lance to the very butt\nthereof, and at the violence of the blow that each gave the other, the\nhorse of each tottered back upon his haunches and would have fallen but\nfor the address of the knight rider, who quickly recovered him with spur\nand voice and rein.\n\nThen each knight voided his saddle and leaped to the ground, and each\ndrew his sword from its sheath for an encounter afoot. Then flashed\ntheir swords like lightning in the sunlight, and blow followed blow with\nsuch great spirit and good will that the sound thereof deafened the ears\nof those who looked down upon that encounter from the balcony. And ever\nthese two champions lashed at the other such buffets that it was a\nwonder that any skill and address at arms could have turned aside such\nstrokes as fell in that friendly battle.\n\nSo they two fought for so long a time that those who onlooked were\nastonished at the strength and the courage and the endurance of those\ntwo champions, and in all that while neither knight had suffered aught\nof harm and neither had had aught of advantage over the other.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and the champion stint their battle._]\n\nThen at last the champion of the castle cried out, \"Sir Knight, hold thy\nhand!\" and thereupon Sir Percival ceased his battle and stood leaning\nupon the pommel of his sword, panting because of the great endeavor\nwhich he had put forth during that conflict. Then the knight-champion of\nthe castle said: \"Messire, I have met many knights in my day and amongst\nthem I have encountered those who were regarded to be the best knights\nin the world, yet I make my vow that never until this time have ever I\nmet any knight who hath proved himself to be so strong and so powerful\nas you have shown yourself to be in this battle. Now I pray you,\nMessire, that you of your courtesy will declare your name and degree,\nfor I doubt me not that you are one whom we shall find to have conferred\ngreat honor upon us by coming to this place.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival declareth himself._]\n\nTo this Sir Percival said: \"Messire, your civility of words is equal to\nyour address at arms. Gladly will I declare my name and degree, and\nhappy will I be if it hath aught of significance to you, for I do not\nthink that even Sir Launcelot of the Lake himself was ever a better\nknight than you have shown yourself to be. Know you that I am Sir\nPercival of Gales and that I am son to King Pellinore and brother unto\nSir Lamorack of Gales. And now I beseech you upon your part to declare\nyour name and title to me.\"\n\nBut to this speech the champion of the castle made no reply. Otherwise,\nwhen he heard what Sir Percival said, and when he heard the name and\ndegree of Sir Percival, he gave forth a great cry, either of joy or of\nsomething different from joy. Therewith, and thus crying out, he flung\naway his sword and he flung away his shield, and he ran to Sir Percival\nand threw himself down upon his knees before Sir Percival and embraced\nhim about the thighs. And he cried out: \"What have I done! What have I\ndone to do battle with thee in this wise!\"\n\nAt this Sir Percival was very greatly astonished and he said: \"Sir, what\nis this thou doest to kneel to me? Who art thou who sayst such words as\nthese I hear? Now I pray thee that thou wilt immediately declare thyself\nto me who thou art!\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot declareth himself._]\n\nThen that knight, still kneeling, said: \"Sir Percival, I am he whom men\none time called Sir Launcelot of the Lake.\" Therewith saying, that\nknight of the castle lifted up the umbril of his helmet and Sir Percival\nbeheld that it was indeed Sir Launcelot.\n\nThen Sir Percival cried out even as Sir Launcelot had done, and thus\ncrying out he said: \"At last, at last I have found thee!\" Therewith he\nlifted up Sir Launcelot into his arms, and he embraced Sir Launcelot and\nkissed him upon the cheek and they wept over one another with a great\njoy of meeting, and all those in the balcony who beheld that sight\nwondered what was its occasion.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival beholdeth Elaine the Fair._]\n\nThen Sir Launcelot said to Sir Percival: \"Sir, let me bring you to my\nlady.\" And therewith he took Sir Percival by the hand and led him up\ninto the gallery and to where the Lady Elaine sat in the midst of her\ncourt. And Sir Percival looked with a very earnest regard upon that\nlady, and it appeared to him that he had never before beheld so sweet\nand gentle and beautiful a countenance as that which he then looked\nupon. And Sir Percival said: \"Lady, now that I see thee I wonder not\nthat Sir Launcelot hath remained thus hidden away from the sight of all\nof us for these two years past. For if this island wherein ye dwell is a\nfair paradise then certes art thou a very fitting queen to that\ndwelling-place.\"\n\nSo spake Sir Percival, and after he had spoken the Lady Elaine smiled\nvery kindly upon him and she said: \"Messire, your words are very fair\nand they flatter me far beyond my deserving. Great is your renown\namongst us and I declare that you are very welcome to this place. Now I\npray you put aside your armor and bathe and refresh yourself, and after\nthat we shall all take gentle sport together.\"\n\nSir Percival said: \"Lady, gladly would I stay with you at this present.\nBut there is awaiting me at another place not far distant from this one\nwhom Sir Launcelot will be even more glad to behold than he was glad to\nbehold me. Now I pray you, suffer me first to go and bring that one\nhither and then will we both remain with you in greater joy of your\ncompany.\"\n\nQuoth Sir Launcelot, \"Who is it that could give me more pleasure to see\nthan you, Sir Percival?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Percival, \"it is your own brother, Sir Ector. For I left\nhim upon the other side of the water of this lake whilst I came hither\nalone to try my fortune with you. Now I pray you let me go to him and\nbring him hitherward so that we may all rejoice together.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot cried out: \"This is indeed joy upon joy. Now I pray\nyou, Sir Percival, go and bring him!\" Therewith Sir Percival departed to\nfetch Sir Ector thither in accordance with that saying.\n\nSo Sir Percival rode down through the meadow of the island to the margin\nof the lake, and when he had come there the ferryman ferried him across\nthe water as they had brought him across before. And Sir Percival found\nSir Ector waiting for him, who, when he beheld Sir Percival coming,\nsaid: \"Sir, what fortune had you in your adventure?\" Quoth Sir Percival:\n\"Oh, friend! that fortune which I had was greater than you or I could\nhave deemed to be possible.\"\n\nAt these words Sir Ector was greatly astonished, and he said: \"What\ngreat fortune is this of which thou speakest?\" and Sir Percival said: \"I\nwill tell thee. Whom thinkest thou I have found upon this adventure?\nNone other than thine own brother, Sir Launcelot, for he it is who is\nthe lord of this castle.\"\n\nThen Sir Ector cried out with astonishment, and he said: \"Can this be so\nindeed?\" And then he said: \"Let us make haste and go to him upon the\nwings of the wind.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Percival bringeth Sir Ector to Joyous Isle._]\n\nSo again they entered the ferry and were ferried across the water. And\nafter they were upon the farther side they rode together through that\nmeadow of flowers and up to the castle.\n\nNow as they drew nigh to the castle in that wise they beheld a great\nconcourse of the castle folk coming forth to meet them and giving great\nsound of jubilation and rejoicing. At the head of these who approached\nto meet them came Sir Launcelot and the Lady Elaine, they two riding\nside by side, Sir Launcelot upon a great black horse, and she upon a\nwhite palfrey. And she was clad all in garments of white sarsanet\nembellished with pearls and embroidered with threads of silver, and she\nwas adorned with ornaments of shining gold and she wore a golden crown\nupon her head such as was befitting the daughter of a king to wear. Her\nfair hair was enmeshed in a network of golden threads so that what with\nthis and that her beauty shone from afar with exceeding lustre. And\nthough Sir Ector had beheld her aforetime yet it was as though he had\nnever beheld her until that day, for her joy and her pride of Sir\nLauncelot and in his meeting Sir Ector and Sir Percival again so\nilluminated her countenance that it was as though her beauty shone with\na singular brightness from within; yea, it was as though her soul itself\nhad illuminated her body of flesh with a pure and shining beauty that\nwas other than of this world.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ector and Sir Launcelot meet one another._]\n\nSo as they met, Sir Launcelot and Sir Ector each leaped from his horse\nand they ran together and embraced and kissed each other and wept one\nupon another in such a wise that all of those who looked on wept also\nfor joy of their joy. And then Sir Ector came to the lady and took her\nby the hand and kissed her hand and kissed it again and yet again.\n\nAfter that they all went up to the castle of the Joyous Isle together,\nand they entered into the castle with sounds of rejoicing and loud\nacclaim so that the very walls of the castle seemed, as it were, to cry\nout with joy. So after they had thus entered the castle, a number of\nattendants took Sir Percival and Sir Ector and made them comfortable in\nall wise. And they were given rich robes of royal make for to wear and\nafter that there was feasting and rejoicing beyond measure.\n\nThereafter day followed day in great cheer and mirth and there were many\njoustings and tournaments held in honor of these two royal knights who\nhad come thither.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ector bespeaketh Sir Launcelot._]\n\nNow one day Sir Launcelot and Sir Ector were walking together in the\ngarden of that fair castle and they were alone, no attendants being with\nthem at that time. Anon Sir Ector said to Sir Launcelot, \"My brother, I\npray ye read me a riddle.\" Quoth Sir Launcelot, \"What is your riddle?\"\n\"It is this,\" said Sir Ector: \"What should one do if a messenger came to\nhim with command from a queen to whom he had sworn duty--that command\nbeing that he should show himself at court? Should that one neglect the\ncommand that his queen had transmitted to him, or should he obey that\ncommand.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot turned his face aside so that Sir Ector might not\nread his eyes, and after a little he said, \"I will not return to court.\"\n\n\"Why will ye not do so?\" said Sir Ector, and Sir Launcelot made reply:\n\"Because a duty that is greater than any queen's command keeps me here\nwith this lady unto whom I have pledged all my truth and all my faith.\"\n\nAfter that Sir Ector was silent for a little, and then after a little\nwhile he said: \"Sir, you know very well that I would do naught to advise\nyou against that which I believe to be your duty and your honor. But are\nyou so doubtful of yourself that you fear to perform one duty lest you\nshould fail in another duty? Now we are commanded by that queen whom you\nswore to serve to search you out and to find you and to tell you that it\nis her command unto you that you return to the court of the Great King\nand make your peace with her. Are you then so doubtful of your truth to\nthe Lady Elaine that you fear to obey the command of the Queen?\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot cried out, \"Say no more to me of this!\" and so Sir\nEctor said no more. So, shortly afterward they parted company.\n\nAfter that they had so parted Sir Launcelot went to a certain chamber of\nthe castle where he was alone and there he communed with his spirit, and\nthese communings were very bitter and sad. Anon came the Lady Elaine to\nthat place and knocked upon the door and demanded entrance, but for a\nwhile Sir Launcelot denied her. But ever she knocked, and so after a\nwhile he opened the door a little and admitted her into that place where\nhe was.\n\nThen the Lady Elaine came close to Sir Launcelot and looked very deeply\ninto his eyes, and by and by she said, \"Launcelot, what ails thee?\" He\nsaid, \"My brother hath been talking to me concerning certain matters.\"\nShe said, \"What was it he said to thee?\" And Sir Launcelot replied, \"I\nwill not tell thee.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine bespeaketh Sir Launcelot._]\n\nThen the Lady Elaine smiled into Sir Launcelot's face and she said: \"It\nneeds not that thou shouldst tell me what thy brother said, for I can\nguess very well what it was.\" Then she took Sir Launcelot's head into\nher embrace and she said, \"Launcelot! Launcelot!\" and he said, \"Elaine!\nElaine!\" And the Lady Elaine said: \"Alas, love, thou must return with\nthese good knights unto the court of the King, for it is thy duty to do\nso. After that thou mayst return hither, and I pray God that thy staying\naway from this place may not be for very long.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot said: \"Elaine, I will not go away from this place\nunless it be that thou also goest with me. Wherefore, if thou wilt have\nme go to King Arthur's court, then go thou along with me. Otherwise, if\nthou wilt not do that, then I will disobey the Queen's commands and will\nstay forever here with thee.\"\n\nThen the Lady Elaine smiled again though somewhat sadly and she said:\n\"Ah, Launcelot, I am sorry for thee and for thy doubts. But as thou\nwilt have it so, so let it be and I will go with thee to the court of\nthe King.\" Therewith she kissed Sir Launcelot upon the face and he\nkissed her as with a great passion.\n\n[Sidenote: _They all depart from Joyous Isle._]\n\nSo three days after that time all they departed from Joyous Isle--to\nwit, Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival and Sir Ector and the Lady\nElaine--and in the court who went along with them there also travelled\nSir Lavaine, the Lady Elaine's brother, who had aforetime been Sir\nLauncelot's companion at arms in that tournament at Astolat as aforetold\nof. These with their courts of esquires and ladies and demoiselles\nwended their way from that place with great state of departure and with\nall the pomp and circumstance that befitted the high estate of those who\ntravelled.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo it was that Sir Launcelot was found, and now if you will read this\nhistory further you shall hear of a very pleasant adventure that befell\nthem upon their way to the castle of King Arthur and of how Sir Ewaine\nand the Lady of the Fountain joined them and went with them to the court\nof the King.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: Sir Lavaine the Son of Pelles:]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Third\n\n_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival and Sir Ector and the Lady Elaine\nprogressed to the court of King Arthur, and how a very good adventure\nbefell them upon their way._\n\n\nNow, as was said, Sir Launcelot and the Lady Elaine departed for\nCamelot, together with Sir Percival and Sir Ector and Sir Lavaine, for\ntheir intent was to return to King Arthur's court. With them went a very\nnoble court of knights and ladies, and of many attendants of all degrees\nin waiting upon them. So it was that whensoever their cavalcade would\nmake a halt, that place where they would rest would suddenly bloom\nforth, as it were, with the glory of their coming. For upon such a halt\nthere would immediately be spread a number of pavilions of all sorts and\ncolors for the accommodation of those lords and ladies, wherefore the\ngreen fields and meadow-lands would presently be covered all over with a\ngreat multitude of gay colors of all sorts, bedazzling the eye with\ntheir brightness and their variety. Then all the air would be aflutter\nwith silken pennants and banners, and all would be bright with the\nshining of armor and the movement of gaily clad figures, and all would\nbe merry with the chatter and music of many voices talking together, and\nall would be alive with movement and bustle--some running hither and\nsome running thither--and everywhere pages and esquires would be busy\npolishing pieces of armor, and damsels would be busy in gentle\nattendance upon the lady.\n\n[Sidenote: _How they rest within the forest._]\n\nSo it was that they made progression in that wise, all gay and\ndebonnaire, and so one day they made halt toward the sloping of the\nafternoon in a certain very pleasant woodland where a fair fountain of\nwater, as clear as crystal and as cold as ice, came gushing forth from a\nmossy rock of the woodland. Here was a very pleasant meadow of lush\ngreen grass all besprinkled with pretty flowers and around about stood\nthe trees of the forest, ever rustling and murmuring their leaves in the\nsoft and balmy breezes that caused their ancient heads to move, very\nslowly this way and that, as though they were whispering to one another\nconcerning the doings of those gay travellers aforesaid.\n\nNow as those knights and ladies who had been travelling all that day\nwere anhungered with journeying, a repast had been spread in the open\nair, and all they sat at table with only the blue sky and the bright\nfloating clouds above their heads for a canopy, and only the soft green\ngrass and the pretty flowers beneath their feet for a carpet. And so as\nthey sat, pages and attendants ran hither and thither with plates and\ndishes and pattens of silver and of gold full of meats of all kinds, and\nwith beakers and pitchers and goblets of silver and of gold full of\nwines of various sorts; and with these foods the attendants served that\nnoble company as they sat at table. And all the stillness of the forest\nwas filled full of the noise of the chanting of many voices, and of\nlaughter and of snatches of song. What time there stood near by several\nminstrels who played upon harps for the entertainment of those who ate\nat the table.\n\n[Sidenote: _A strange damsel appeareth in the forest._]\n\nSo, as they sat, all enjoying themselves with feasting and good cheer,\nthere came forth of a sudden from the forest a very beautiful damsel\nriding upon a milk-white horse with two esquires in attendance upon\nher--the one walking upon the one side of her horse, and the other upon\nthe other. This damsel and the esquires were all clad in flame-colored\nsatin and all these were adorned with many ornaments of gold. And the\ndamsel wore about her neck several shining necklaces of gold inset with\njewels of divers sorts, and she wore armlets of gold also inset with\njewels upon her arms, and her hair was gathered into a net of gold. So\nit was, what with that flaming raiment and the shining of those several\nornaments of gold, that she who came thither was all one living flame of\nfire.\n\nSo she drew nigh to them who sat at table, and they beheld that the face\nof that damsel was of a very singularly beautiful appearance, being like\nto ivory for whiteness; and they beheld that her lips were like to coral\nfor redness, and that her eyes were like two jewels, very bright and\nshining. And they beheld that her hands were long and slender, and were\nadorned with many rings of wrought gold, so that each finger shone, as\nit were, with pure brightness because of those several hoops of gold\nthat encircled them.\n\nSuch was the appearance of that damsel and all they who sat there at\nfeast were astonished with wonderment when they beheld her, for they all\nwist that without doubt she was fay.\n\n[Sidenote: _The damsel bespeaketh them._]\n\nNow when that damsel had come pretty close to where they sat at their\nfeast, she drew rein and cried out: \"God save you, gentles! Now I pray\nyou tell me if there is any knight here who hath a mind for an adventure\nthat would doubtless be very pleasant for him to undertake?\"\n\nTo this Sir Launcelot made reply: \"I dare say, fair maiden, that there\nare several knights here who would take pleasure in assuming any\nadventure that one so beautiful as you are might call upon him to\nperform. Speaking for myself, I shall be very glad to assume such an\nadventure; wherefore, I pray thee, tell me what that adventure is.\"\n\n\"I will tell you,\" said the damsel. \"The adventure which I would have\nyou undertake is hight the Adventure of the Fountain, and if you would\nassume it, you have only to take yonder path that leads through the\nwoodlands in that direction and you shall come to it anon. For if you go\nin that way you will come, by and by, to a high mound, where you will\nfind a huge black man sitting, watching a herd of cattle. Tell him that\nyou are come to assume the Adventure of the Fountain, and he will direct\nyou farther upon your way.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot said: \"This is a very strange thing that thou hast\nset me to undertake. Now I prithee tell me further concerning this\nadventure, and what will befall after I have bespoken that black\nherdsman of whom thou tellest.\" But at this the maiden only laughed and\nsaid: \"The black man who sits upon the mound, he will tell you all that\nis necessary for you to know.\" Thereupon she turned her horse about and\nimmediately departed with those two esquires who attended her. And so\npresently she reached the edge of the woodland and disappeared into the\nforest whence she had emerged not a very long while before. And all that\ncourt of knights and ladies were equally amazed at her coming and at her\ngoing.\n\nThen after she had thus gone Sir Launcelot said: \"I know not what it is\nthat this damsel has set me to do, but let us abide here to-night as we\nhad purposed, and when to-morrow comes then we will all depart together\nin quest of this adventure which she calleth the 'Adventure of the\nFountain.' For I doubt not that it is some very excellent undertaking\nthat will afford us extraordinary entertainment.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _They depart upon the Adventure of the Fountain._]\n\nAccordingly, that night they abided where they were, and when the early\nbreaking of the day had come they departed thence upon the way that the\ndamsel had pointed out.\n\nAfter they had thus departed, they travelled for a considerable distance\nthrough the forest in that direction and anon they came to that mound of\nwhich the damsel had spoken. And they beheld that the mound stood in a\nwide open space of the woodland. And they beheld that there were many\ncattle grazing around about this mound and upon the mound, and they\nbeheld that upon the mound there sat a gigantic being of such a hideous\naspect that they were astonished at his appearance. For his skin was\nwellnigh black, and his half naked body was covered all over with hairs\nlike to the hairs upon the body of an ape.\n\nThen, when this being beheld them where they came, he roared at them in\na great voice, saying, \"Where go ye, little people, and what is your\nbusiness?\"\n\nTo him Sir Launcelot made reply: \"Fellow, I came hither to assay that\nAdventure of the Fountain and these are my companions who come with me.\nNow tell me what that adventure is and what I shall do to fulfill it.\"\n\nThen that gigantic oaf bellowed with loud laughter and he cried out:\n\"Seekest thou that adventure? Now I warrant thee, thou wilt be well\nsatisfied when thou hast found it. For so all have been satisfied who\nhave come this way. Take thou yonder path and by and by thou wilt come\nto a certain valley that is very fair and beautiful. In that valley is a\nlake and there is a fountain nigh to the lake, and thou mayst know the\nfountain because a great tree stands beside it and shelters the waters\nthereof. Beside the fountain is a slab of stone and upon the slab is a\nsilver bowl attached to the slab by a chain of silver. Dip up some water\nfrom the fountain into the silver bowl and cast the water upon the slab\nof stone, and thou shalt straightway meet with an adventure that will, I\ndoubt not, satisfy all thy desires for a long time to come.\"\n\nSo spake that gigantic being in a voice like to thunder, and after he\nhad spoken they presently all departed upon further quest of that\nadventure.\n\n[Sidenote: _They behold the valley of the Fountain._]\n\nSo they travelled a very long distance until by and by they came to that\nsteep hill aforetold of in this history. Thereafter they climbed to the\ntop of this hill and found themselves at a place where the forest ceased\nand whence beneath them lay a very fair valley. And they perceived from\na distance the lake and the fountain of which they had been told, and\nafter that they all rode down in that valley and to the place of the\nfountain.\n\nHere, finding a fair level meadow, they pitched their pavilions around\nabout the place of the fountain and Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival and\nSir Ector and their knights armed themselves in all wise so as to be\nready for any sort of adventure that might befall.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot poureth water upon the slab._]\n\nThus being in all ways prepared, Sir Launcelot approached the fountain,\nand when he had come to it he found the silver cup chained to the slab\nof stone as the gigantic herdsman had said that he would find it. So he\ntook the silver cup into his hand, and he dipped up the water of the\nfountain therein, and he cast that water upon the slab of stone.\n\nThen it befell just as it had aforetime befallen with Sir Sagramore and\nSir Ewaine. For the earth trembled and shook so that all those who were\nthere were filled with a great terror at the earthquake. Then there\narose a mighty wind, so violent that all the pavilions that had been\nerected were overthrown and blown away before the blast. Then the skies\nthundered and thick dark clouds gathered over the heavens so that the\nlight was presently altogether obscured, although it was hardly yet come\nto the prime of the day. After that the rain fell in such a deluge that\nall they who were there feared for some while that they would be drowned\nin that rainfall. And ever, as it rained, they heard, as from a\ndistance, the voices of many raised, as it were in lamentation. For all\nthis was just as it had been when Sir Sagramore and Sir Ewaine had come\nto that place.\n\nThen after a while it ceased raining and the clouds cleared away from\nthe sky, and the sun shone forth once more with an extraordinary\nbrilliancy. And anon there came that multitude of birds flying, as\naforetold of in this history, and these, descending upon the tree by the\nfountain, straightway fell to singing with such a piercing rapture of\nmelody that the hearts of those who listened were altogether ravished\nwith the charm of their song.\n\nThen, whilst those who were there stood listening to that singing of the\nbirds, they perceived a great distance away the form of a knight who\ncame riding toward that place with great speed. And that knight was clad\naltogether in black armor and he rode upon a great black horse, and all\nthe trappings and the furniture of that horse were as black as all the\nother things that belonged to that knight. So that knight came violently\nriding to where they were, and perceiving that great court of knights\nand ladies who stood there all drenched and wet with the rain, he cried\nout in a proud and menacing voice, \"Who are ye, and which of ye was it\nwho meddled with this fountain?\"\n\nTo this Sir Launcelot replied, \"Sir, it was I.\"\n\nThen the black knight, speaking very fiercely, said: \"Know ye that ye\nhave done a very woeful mischief, for, because you have meddled with\nthis fountain, ye have brought a deluge upon this land that hath done\ngreat damage to all they that dwell therein. Now make you straightway\nready for battle, for I have great hopes of punishing you for the\nmischief you have done to this land by thus meddling with the fountain.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot answered, speaking both with great pride and with\ndignity of demeanor. \"Messire,\" quoth he, \"never yet have I refused any\ncall to battle, nor shall I do so at this present. As for that mischief\nof which you speak, wit you that I knew not I was making any mischief in\nwhat I did. Ne'theless, now that that mischief is done, I am ready to\ndefend mine act since you have called upon me to do so.\"\n\nSo saying, Sir Launcelot withdrew to one side in that meadow near to the\nfountain as aforetold of; and the Knight of the Fountain likewise\nwithdrew himself to that same place, and when they had come there each\nchose such ground as seemed to him to be best fitted for the encounter.\nMeantime, all they who were there gathered in a good place whence they\nmight onlook that encounter and behold the upshot of the adventure.\n\nSo when all was ready for the encounter, as aforesaid, each knight\nshouted aloud and drave spur to horse and each charged against the other\nwith all the fury of two wild bulls.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot doeth battle with the Knight of the\nFountain._]\n\nSo they met in the midst of the course with such a roar of encountering\nspears and armor that the ears of those who heard it were stunned with\nthe noise thereof. In that encounter the spear of each knight was\nshattered to splinters up to the hand that held it, and the horse of\neach sunk back upon his haunches as though he had encountered a stone\nwall. But each knight recovered his horse with spur and voice and with\nwonderful skill and dexterity, so that neither horse nor man suffered a\nfall from that encounter.\n\nThen each knight voided his horse and leaped to the earth and each\nstraightway drew his shining sword, all flashing in the bright sunlight.\nAnd each rushed upon the other with a great rage for battle, smiting and\nslashing with their swords, and dealing such dreadful buffets that those\nwho beheld that battle were affrighted at the vehemence with which those\ntwo champions fought. So they did combat for a great while and in all\nthat time neither suffered any great harm from the buffets of the other.\nThen, at last, that knight who did battle against Sir Launcelot cried\nout, \"Stay thy hand for a little, Sir Knight, while I hold speech with\nthee!\"\n\nSo Sir Launcelot ceased his battle and each knight-champion stood\npanting, leaning the while upon his sword. Then the Knight of the\nFountain said: \"I pray thee, Sir Knight, if so be thou wilt do me that\ncourtesy for to tell me thy name. For I declare unto thee that never\nbefore this day have I ever met so great a champion in battle.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot declareth himself._]\n\nThen said Sir Launcelot: \"Sir, wit you that I am Sir Launcelot of the\nLake. As for you, I know not who you are, only know I for a certainty\nthat you must be some very puissant champion, for never did I encounter\na more worthy battle than this that I have met with to-day.\"\n\nNow when the Knight of the Fountain heard the name that Sir Launcelot\ndeclared, and when he wist who it was against whom he had been doing\nbattle, he cried out in a loud and piercing voice, \"What say you?\" And\nagain he cried out, saying: \"Art thou indeed Sir Launcelot of the Lake?\nThen have I been fighting against him whom I love very dearly and whom I\nhave sought for both long and far.\" So crying out, he threw aside his\nsword and his shield and ran to Sir Launcelot where he was. And he cast\nhis arms around the body of Sir Launcelot and embraced him as with a\ngreat passion of joy.\n\nThen Sir Launcelot was greatly astonished to find himself embraced by\nthat strange knight, wherefore he said: \"Messire, who art thou, and why\ndost thou embrace me in this wise?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine declareth himself._]\n\nUpon this the Knight of the Fountain uplifted the umbril of his helmet\nand he said: \"Behold me! I am thy one-time companion in arms. I am\nEwaine, the son of King Uriens of Gore.\" Therewith Sir Launcelot beheld\nthe face of Sir Ewaine and knew him, and thus knowing him, he cried out\nwith astonishment even as Sir Ewaine had cried out, saying: \"Ewaine, is\nit thou against whom I have contended? Alas, what have I been doing to\nfight against thee in this wise!\" Therewith he also cast aside his sword\nand shield and took Sir Ewaine into his arms and embraced him before\nthem all, even as Sir Ewaine had embraced him. Then either kissed the\nother upon the face, and after that all the others of those who were\none-time companions of Sir Ewaine came forth and also gave him greeting,\nrejoicing beyond measure to see him again.\n\nThen Sir Launcelot brought Sir Ewaine to where was the Lady Elaine and\nhe made the one acquainted with the other, and Sir Ewaine took the Lady\nElaine's hand into his and kissed it with a great ardor of love. After\nthat they all sat down together in full amity of discourse.\n\nThen Sir Launcelot said to Sir Ewaine: \"Messire, I prithee tell me how\nit is that you have come hither and are now dwelling here as the\nchampion of this fountain. For certes, it is a very strange thing to\nfind you thus engaged.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine telleth his story._]\n\nTo this Sir Ewaine made reply, \"I will tell thee.\" And thereupon he told\nthem all that had befallen him since he had left Sir Percival to go upon\nthat Adventure of the Fountain in the which Sir Sagramore had failed to\nachieve success as aforetold. Meantime all they listened to him with\ngreat attention and with close regard. And when he had ended, all said\nthat that was as wonderful an adventure as ever they had heard tell of\nin all of their lives.\n\nThen Sir Ewaine said: \"Gentles all, I pray you of your courtesy that you\nwill wend with me to the castle where dwelleth my fair beloved lady, for\ncertes it would be a great honor to her and to me to have you become\nacquainted with her.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _They come to the castle of the Fountain._]\n\nSo said Sir Ewaine, and all agreed with great joy to what he said, so\nshortly afterward they departed from that place and betook their way\ndown that Valley of the Fountain to the castle of the Fountain as Sir\nEwaine asked them to do, and they arrived at that place somewhat past\nthe noon of the day.\n\nThere they were received with great joy and rejoicing, and after that\nfor several days there was feasting and merrymaking and pleasant sports\nof all sorts at the castle of the Fountain.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow after several days had passed thus joyously at the castle of the\nFountain, it chanced that Sir Ewaine and his lady and Sir Launcelot and\nthe Lady Elaine were together in the garden of the castle, and no one\nelse was there but they. So as they sat in discourse Sir Launcelot said\nto Sir Ewaine: \"Messire, as we are going to the court of the King, will\nyou not join our company with your fair Lady of the Fountain to\naccompany us? Certes it is that there would be great joy at court if so\nbe we would all return together in that wise.\"\n\nTo this Sir Ewaine said: \"Sir, that would indeed be a very good thing\nfor us to do, and we will be glad to go with you as you ask us.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _They all depart from the castle of the Fountain._]\n\nSo straightway they of that place of the Fountain began to prepare\nthemselves for journey, and three days after all the court of Sir\nLauncelot and his lady and all the court of Sir Ewaine and his lady made\ntheir departure from the Valley of the Fountain and betook their way\ntoward Camelot.\n\nNow the way they took led them toward that mound whereon sat that\ngigantic black man herding his cattle. And when this being perceived all\nthose people passing that way, he sat there and laughed like to the\npealing of thunder, though why he laughed not one of them wist, for\nthere was naught of mirth to be seen in their progression. Yet ever that\ngreat black creature laughed and laughed until they had passed by and\ngone, still leaving him laughing in that wise.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Vivien hath vanished._]\n\nAnd as they went still farther along that way they came by and by to\nwhere was the valley of the Lady Vivien. And they looked for that castle\nof the Lady Vivien whereunto Sir Ewaine had twice come as aforetold and,\nlo! it had entirely disappeared. Yea, there was not to be seen nor stick\nnor stone nor sign of it anywhere, and at that they all greatly\nmarvelled, much wondering what had become of that enchanted place.\n\nNor was it ever known what had become of it, nor was it ever known\nwhether the enchantress had wearied of her mischiefs, or whether she\nfeared the anger of so many who had now been raised up against her. Only\nthis was known to be true, that she had betaken herself and her court\nand her castle altogether away from that place, nor was she seen there\nany more again.\n\nMoreover, it is to be said at this place that from that time forth the\nenchantment of the fountain was removed and the cup and the slab of\nstone disappeared from where they lay, and thenceforward they of the\nvalley were at peace. So endeth that part of the story of the Fountain.\n\n[Sidenote: _They behold Camelot again._]\n\nNow when that noble concourse of knights and ladies who were in\nattendance upon Sir Launcelot and Sir Ewaine and their ladies drew nigh\nto the neighborhood of Camelot (which same was upon the fourth day after\nthey had left the valley of the Lady Vivien) Sir Launcelot sent an\nherald messenger before them to announce their coming. So it befell that\nwhen they came within sight of the town, they beheld a great concourse\nof knights and esquires of the court who had come forth to meet them.\nThese gave loud acclaim to Sir Launcelot and his companions, crying,\n\"Welcome, ye glorious champions who are returning to us again!\"\n\nThis welcome they gave on behalf of King Arthur, by whom they had been\nsent, for the King was glad beyond measure to have those champions who\nwere so dear to his heart return to him once more. So it was that those\nwho came to meet them cried out, \"Welcome, welcome, ye glorious\nchampions,\" in that wise. So rejoicing and giving welcome all they\nprogressed toward the King's town--Sir Launcelot and his lady and Sir\nEwaine and his lady, and their companions and all their courts,\nsurrounded with great pomp of circumstance by those knights and esquires\nof the court of King Arthur, who had been sent to meet them.\n\nAnd all they who had thus come forth from the town looked with great\ncuriosity upon the Lady Elaine and the Lady Lesolie and all were\nastonished at the beauty and the grace of these two high dames. But more\nespecially were they astonished at the beauty of the Lady Elaine, for\nher loveliness shone like to a star in the midst of her court, wherefore\nthey who looked upon her said to one another: \"Certes, even Queen\nGuinevere herself is not more beautiful than yonder lady.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _They kneel before the King and the Queen._]\n\nSo they came to the King's town and they entered the town and they\nentered the castle of the King, and there they found King Arthur and\nQueen Guinevere sitting in state to receive them. Both the King and the\nQueen were crowned with golden crowns, and each sat upon a throne to\nreceive those who came in fitting pomp and with sufficient ceremony. So\nSir Launcelot and the Lady Elaine and all those who were with them came\nbefore the King and Queen and kneeled down before them as they sat high\naloft in royal state. Then as they kneeled there the King arose and\ndescended from his throne and came forward and gave great welcome to\nthem all; for his heart was filled with gladness and joy to behold them\nkneeling before him in that wise.\n\nAnd all that while the Queen's face was smiling like to a beautiful\nmask. And ever she gazed very steadily at the Lady Elaine, beholding how\nthat the countenance of that lady was exceedingly beautiful and very\nnoble and gentle. And as the Queen gazed thus upon the Lady Elaine she\nhated her with great bitterness, yet ever she hid that hatred beneath a\nsmiling countenance.\n\nThat day there was great feasting and rejoicing at the court of the King\nbecause of the return of Sir Launcelot and Sir Ewaine and Sir Percival\nand Sir Ector. And ever the Lady Guinevere took part in that rejoicing,\nalbeit her heart was full of great bitterness and of a sort of despair.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Sidenote: _The Queen withdraweth the Lady Elaine from Sir Launcelot._]\n\nNow the next day after that day, the Lady Guinevere sent for the Lady\nElaine to come to her, and when she was come the Queen said to her:\n\"Lady, I have it in mind to do thee a singular honor that I would bestow\nupon thee, and this is that thou shouldst be in personal attendance upon\nme. To this end I have purveyed thee a room next to mine own chamber in\nmine own part of this castle, and there thou and thy attendants may\nlodge so that ye shall ever be near to my person. And ever thou shalt be\nin close attendance upon me and never shalt thou be parted from me for\nall the time that thou remainest at this place.\"\n\nThus spake the Lady Guinevere, for so, under the mask of friendliness\nand pretence of doing honor to the Lady Elaine, she purposed to separate\nSir Launcelot from his lady and after that to keep them separate from\none another. This she did, though why she should do it she could not\nrightly tell even to her own heart.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo it was that Sir Launcelot returned to the court of the King; so it\nwas that they were received at Camelot, and so it was that the Lady\nElaine the Fair was separated from Sir Launcelot as I have recounted\nabove.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nConclusion\n\n\nNow at this time the Lady Elaine was in very tender health, wherefore,\nafter a day or two or three, she began to repine at being thus separated\nfrom Sir Launcelot as aforesaid; wherefore it befell that she grew\nlonely in that strange place and wept a great deal and ate little and\nslept little.\n\nNow there was at this time with the Lady Elaine that Lady hight Dame\nBrysen before spoken of--she who went with the Lady Elaine to Sir\nLauncelot when he lay so nigh to death in the castle of Corbin. This\nlady saw how it was with the Lady Elaine and how that she pined in that\nwise for Sir Launcelot, and she wist that the Lady Elaine was like to\nfall sick unless she had sight of her lord. So Dame Brysen went to Sir\nLauncelot one day and she said to him: \"Sir, if you find not some\nopportunity to see your lady, she will fall ill and maybe wane away to\ndeath because of her longing for you.\" Sir Launcelot said: \"How may I\nsee her?\" Dame Brysen said: \"Come to me this night in a certain passage\nof the castle during the mid-watch of the night and I will bring you to\nher. So you may cherish and comfort her for that while and so she will\ntake good cheer once more.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _How Sir Launcelot visiteth the Lady Elaine._]\n\nSo that night Sir Launcelot came to the place where Dame Brysen had\nappointed and Dame Brysen took him to where was the Lady Elaine. And\nwhen the Lady Elaine beheld Sir Launcelot she could scarce control the\ntransports of her joy in having him with her once more, for she catched\nhim in her arms and held to him like as one sinking in deep waters holds\nto another who comes to save him. And ever she cried in her transport,\n\"Thou art here! Thou art here!\" And ever Sir Launcelot soothed her and\nspake words of comfort to her. So at last she took good cheer and smiled\nand laughed as she was wont to do aforetime.\n\nSo Sir Launcelot remained with the Lady Elaine for a long while, and\nDame Brysen was with them for all that while, and the damsels of the\ncourt of the Lady Elaine were with them, for Sir Launcelot did not quit\nthat place until the early watches of the morning were come, what time\nthe Lady Elaine had fallen asleep like to a child who slumbers.\n\nThen ere it was come the dawning of the day, Sir Launcelot took his\ndeparture and Dame Brysen conducted him thence as she had brought him\nthither.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Queen is angered._]\n\nNow there was a fair young damsel of the court of the Queen who acted as\na spy upon Sir Launcelot. So when the next morning had come this damsel\nwent to the Queen and told her how Dame Brysen had brought Sir Launcelot\nto the apartments of the Lady Elaine the night before, and when the\nQueen heard that news she was wroth as though she were gone wode, yet\nwhat she did and what she said and how she behaved hath never been told,\nfor no one beheld her in the madness of her wrath but that damsel who\nwas the spy and one other. Only it is known that after a while the Queen\ncried out in a voice very harsh and loud: \"Where is that false traitor\nknight, Sir Launcelot! Bring him hither!\" And then she said: \"Let no one\nelse come in to me but him, and when he comes let us be alone together!\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot standeth before the Queen._]\n\nSo anon came Sir Launcelot conducted to that place where the Queen was,\nand then all those who were there withdrew, and no one was left in that\napartment but Sir Launcelot and the Queen herself. So Sir Launcelot\nstood before the Queen and he said, \"Here am I.\"\n\nThen the Lady Guinevere looked for a long time upon Sir Launcelot, and\nher eyes were very wide as she stared upon him and her face was white\nlike to wax. Anon she said, speaking in a voice that was very harsh but\nnot loud: \"Is it true that thou camest to this part of the castle last\nnight?\" and Sir Launcelot said, \"Yea, lady.\" Then the Queen ground her\nwhite teeth together, and she said, still speaking in that same voice\nthat was not loud: \"Traitor! Traitor! how didst thou dare to come hither\nwithout my permission?\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot looked very long into the Queen's face, and at last\nhe said, \"I am betrayed, it seems.\" \"Yea,\" said the Queen, \"thou art\nbetrayed indeed, but it is thou who hast betrayed thyself.\"\n\nSir Launcelot said: \"In what way have I betrayed myself, and in what way\nam I a traitor to thee or to anyone? Is not my duty first of all toward\nthat lady to whom I have sworn my duty? What treason did I then do in\ncherishing her who is sick and weak and sad and helpless in this place\nwhere thou keepest her prisoner?\"\n\nSo said Sir Launcelot and after that those two, to wit, the Queen and\nthe knight champion, stared very fiercely at one another for a while.\nThen by and by the Queen's eyes fell before his eyes, and anon she fell\nto trembling. Then, of a sudden, she cried out in a very bitter voice:\n\"Ah, Launcelot, Launcelot! May God have pity upon me for I am most\nunhappy!\" Therewith she lifted her handkerchief to her eyes and so\ncovered her face with it. And that while her face was altogether hidden\nexcepting her lips which were all writhed and twisted with her passion.\nAnd yet she wept not, but ever her bosom rose and fell very violently as\nwith a convulsion.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot pitieth the Queen._]\n\nThen Sir Launcelot wist not what to do, albeit his heart was rent with\nlove and pity. Then by and by he came close to her and he said: \"Lady,\nlady! What is this you do! May God have pity on us both, for you tear my\nheart strings with your grief.\" Therewith, they two being alone, he sank\ndown upon his knees before her, and he took her hands into his and\nstrove to draw them away from her face. And for a while she would not\nlet him withdraw her hands and then after a while she did let him, and\nso he held them imprisoned very tight in his own. Yet ever she kept her\nface turned away from him so that he could see but little of it. So with\nher face turned away she said after a while, \"Launcelot! Launcelot! Art\nthou not sorry for me?\" He said: \"Yea, lady, I am sorry for thee and I\nam sorry for myself, and for which of the two I am more sorry I cannot\ntell. For God knoweth I would abide by my duty and my faith, and\nmefeareth thou wouldst have me do otherwise.\" Then the Queen said:\n\"Launcelot, what is duty and what is faith when we measure these things\nwith the measurement of happiness and unhappiness?\" And Sir Launcelot\nsaid, \"Lady, for God's sake, forbear.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine appeareth at that place._]\n\nNow as Sir Launcelot said those words he became of a sudden aware that\nsome one was in that room. So he looked up and behold! not far away from\nthem there stood the Lady Elaine, and she was regarding them both and\nher face was as white as death, for she had entered that place without\ntheir knowing and she had heard much of that which had passed.\n\nThen Sir Launcelot was aware that she had overheard his words to the\nQueen and with that he was overwhelmed with confusion and with pity. So\nhe arose from his knees, though not quickly, and stood there before the\nLady Elaine with folded arms and with his gaze downcast upon the floor.\nThen the Queen also looked up and likewise beheld the Lady Elaine where\nshe stood, and therewith her face flamed all red like to fire.\n\nThen the Queen arose very haughtily and she said: \"Lady, this is well\nmet, for I was about to send for you. Now tell me, was it by your will\nthat this knight came last night to this part of the castle?\" and the\nLady Elaine said: \"Yea, lady, it was by my will he came, for I was sad,\nand no one but he could comfort me.\"\n\nThen the Queen's eyes sparkled with anger and she said: \"Then you have\nbroken an ordinance of the King's court, for well you know that such a\nthing as that is not permitted. For this I might punish you even unto\ndeath an I chose to do so. Yet I will not so punish you, but will have\nmercy upon you and will spare you. Nevertheless I command you that you\nquit this place with all expedition that is possible.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine chideth the Queen._]\n\nSo spake the angry Queen. But ever the Lady Elaine looked very proudly\nupon her. And when the Queen had ended that speech she said: \"Lady, it\nshall be as you ordain, and to-morrow I shall be glad to depart from\nthis place, for it is a place of great unhappiness to me. But tell me\nthis, lady, ere I go: What would you say of one who took from another\nwho harmed her not, all the happiness and joy that that other had in her\nlife? And what would you say if that one who would so rob the other had\nfor herself a lord who was the most noble and the most worthy knight of\nany in all of the world?\"\n\nAt this speech the eyes of the Queen shone very wild like to the eyes of\na hawk. And first she strove to speak and could not, and then she did\nspeak, yet it was as though the words strangled her. And she said, \"Go!\nLeave me! You know not what you say!\" and other than that she could not\nsay, but only strove to speak without any sound issuing out from her\nthroat.\n\nThen the Lady Elaine turned with great dignity and went away leaving\nthose two alone together, and she neither turned her head nor paused at\nany time in her going.\n\nThen the Queen, turning to Sir Launcelot, said: \"Messire, I lay this\ncommand upon you, that though your lady shall depart, yet that you shall\nremain here at this court until such time as I give you leave to depart\nhence.\" Then she also turned and went away, and for a while Sir\nLauncelot remained, standing alone like to a statue of stone.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine quitteth the court._]\n\nSo the next day the Lady Elaine quitted the court of the King but Sir\nLauncelot remained. And he said not to any one that the Queen had\ncommanded him to stay, for he would not betray her, so it was that all\nwho were of the King's court thought that he stayed of his own will.\n\nBut ere the court of the Lady Elaine departed from that place Sir\nLavaine, the brother of the Lady Elaine, came to Sir Launcelot and no\none was present but they two. And Sir Lavaine said to Sir Launcelot:\n\"Messire, do you not go hence with your lady?\" and Sir Launcelot said:\n\"Nay, but maybe I shall follow her anon.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Lavaine accuseth Sir Launcelot of treason._]\n\nThen Sir Lavaine said: \"Sir, see you not that your lady, my sister, is\nin exceeding tender health?\" and Sir Launcelot said, \"Yea, I see it.\"\nThen Sir Lavaine said, speaking very fiercely: \"What honor hath a man\nwho will leave his own lady for the smiles of another woman? If you do\nsuch a thing you are dishonored as a knight and are a traitor to your\ntroth.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot looked very steadily at Sir Lavaine and his face was\nexceedingly white and his eyes were like to coals of fire. Anon he said:\n\"Messire, you speak bitter words, but you are safe from mine anger.\"\nThen Sir Lavaine laughed, though not with mirth, and immediately he went\naway from Sir Launcelot and left him where he was.\n\nThat same hour the Lady Elaine quitted the court of King Arthur, riding\nthence in a closed litter so that few, saving those immediately in\nattendance upon her, could know aught of what she thought or said or\ndid.\n\nAnd yet the whole world might have seen her countenance, for it was very\ncalm and steadfast and without any mark of passion. And all the world\nmight have heard her words for those words were also without passion of\nany sort. Yea, I believe that at that time her soul itself was\naltogether cheerful and well-content and without any shadow of sorrow\nupon it.\n\nFor once, when Sir Lavaine spoke with great anger and indignation, she\nchid him for his heat, saying: \"My brother, let be. What matters it?\nCould you but see into the future as I gaze thereinto, you would know\nthat it mattereth but very little indeed that such things as this befall\na poor wayfarer in this brief valley of tears.\"\n\nAnd at another time she said: \"My poor lord, Sir Launcelot! Him do I\npity indeed, for God is like to chasten him before long, and to bend him\nand to bruise him as though he were a reed that was bent and bruised so\nthat it may never be able to stand fully erect again. Yet even this\nmattereth but little; for the span of life is but very short, and all is\nin the hands of God.\"\n\nSo spake the Lady Elaine, very calmly and without passion or sorrow of\nany sort! For, as aforesaid, I believe that even at that time her eyes\npenetrated into the future and that she beheld therein what was to\nbefall all of them.\n\nThus they journeyed by easy stages for two days, what time they came out\nfrom the mazes of the forest and into an open plain where they beheld a\nfair priory of the forest set in the midst of fair and fertile fields of\ncorn and of rye. And the walls of the priory gleamed as white as snow in\nthe sunlight, and the red roofs thereof shone like flames of fire\nagainst the deep blue sky against which they stood. And the road whereon\nthey travelled went down beside the banks of a smooth and placid river,\nvery bright and shining like to polished silver; and there were willows\nand aspens upon the one hand and smooth fields of ripening grain upon\nthe other.\n\nNow at that time the Lady Elaine was suffering great pangs of sickness,\nwherefore she said to those in attendance upon her: \"Dear friends, it is\nwell that we have come hither to this place. For this is a house of\npeace, and I am very sick. Wherefore I pray you let me rest here till\nGod shall have dealt with me in my travails in such a manner as He shall\nsee fit.\"\n\nSo spake the Lady Elaine, and upon that command they bare her to the\ngates of the priory. And they bare her into the priory and laid her upon\na soft couch and there she had such ease in her sickness as they could\nbring to her at that time.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nMeantime Sir Launcelot abided at the court of the King, very heavy of\nheart and very sorrowful of spirit. For his soul was dragged this way\nand that way. And whether he had gone away from the court or whether he\nhad stayed as he did, in either case he would have been most unhappy.\nYet to his present unhappiness was added many pangs like to the pangs of\nremorse. For he could not tell whether he did altogether ill or somewhat\nwell in remaining at the King's court as he did.\n\nYet ever his thoughts went out after the Lady Elaine and he said to\nhimself: \"So soon as I can escape from this place with courtesy to the\nQueen, I will follow after her.\" Wherefore had he wist that even then\nshe was lying so sick at the priory in the forest, it may well be\nbelieved that he would not have tarried a single moment longer, but\nwould have flown to her upon the wings of the wind.\n\nBut Sir Launcelot knew not how it was with his lady, and so God was even\nthen preparing a great punishment for him for which he might never hope\nto escape for as long as he should live.\n\n\n\n\nPART VII\n\nThe Nativity of Galahad\n\n\n_Here followeth the story of the nativity of Sir Galahad and of how Sir\nGawaine heard a miraculous prophecy concerning the Achievement of the\nHoly Grail, and of how it was prophesied that Sir Galahad should achieve\nthat holy chalice. Also it shall be told how the infant Galahad was\nconfided to the care of Sir Bors de Ganis, who alone knew what then\nbecame of him, until in due time he was manifested to the world as the\ngreatest and the most puissant knight who ever lived._\n\n[Illustration: Merlin Prophesieth from a Cloud of Mist:]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter First\n\n_How Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Gawaine went forth in search of Sir\nLauncelot. How they parted company, and what befell Sir Gawaine\nthereafter._\n\n\nNow the history hath been told of those things that happened to several\nof the knights who went forth in quest of Sir Launcelot after that he\nwent mad as aforetold; to wit, the history hath been told of Sir\nPercival and of Sir Ewaine and of Sir Sagramore and of Sir Ector de\nMaris. Here followeth an account of that which befell Sir Gawaine, when\nhe, together with Sir Bors de Ganis, also went forth in search of Sir\nLauncelot.\n\nAfter they two had left the court of King Arthur they joined company for\na while. Thus travelling together as companions in arms, they met with\nseveral adventures, some of which are told in histories of chivalry and\nsome of which are not. In such companionship there passed the spring and\nthe summer and by and by it was the fall of the year.\n\n[Sidenote: _How Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors rode forth together._]\n\nNow some there be who love the summer time the best and some there be\nthat love the spring; yet others still there be who love the autumn the\nbest of all. And certes each season hath its beauties, so that one\ncannot wonder that there are some who love the beauties of the fall\nabove the beauties of all other seasons. For in that time of the year\nthere comes the nutting season, when country folk take joy in being\nabroad in the hazel thickets, gathering the bright brown fruits of the\nhazel bushes. Then are days so clear and frosty, all early in the\nmorning, that it is as though the whole vault of heaven were made of\nclear crystal. Then, when you look into the cold blue shadows of the\nwayside bank, there you behold everywhere the sparkling of many myriads\nof bright points of light where the thin frosts catch the shining of the\nearly and yet slanting sun. Then do the birds cry with a wilder note as\nthough heralding the approach of dreary winter. Then do the squirrels\ngambol in the dry, dead foliage in search of their winter store of food.\nThen is all the world clad very gloriously in russet and gold, and when\nthe bright and jolly sun shines down through the thin yellow leaves of\nthe woodland, all the earth appears to be illuminated with a wonderful\nsplendor of golden light, so that it may be that even the glory of\nParadise is not more wonderful than that unusual radiance.\n\nSuch was the world of autumn in which in the latter part of their\njourneyings in company those two noble knights made progress together.\nFor anon they would ride along the smooth and dusty highways, where were\nhedgerows, growing thin of leaves but all bright with red and purple\nberries; and anon they would be riding through some thin woodland where\nthe dry and fallen leaves rustled under foot with a sound like to a\nfaint thunder of multitudinous rustlings; and anon they would be\njourneying along the wolds where the wind blew strong and free and the\ngreat white clouds sailed very smoothly and solemnly across the sky\nabove their heads.\n\n[Sidenote: _They meet Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore._]\n\nSo travelling ever in that wise--sometimes here, sometimes there--they\ncame one day in the early morning to where there was a smooth and\nshining lake, the chill waters whereof were all asmoke in the gentle\nwarmth of the newly risen sun. And here were sedge and reeds, all fading\nbrown and yellow, and at many places, wild fowl, disturbed at their\ncoming, would spring up with loud and noisy splashings from the\nentangled water. So as they went beside that lake they beheld two\nknights coming toward them, riding side by side in the sunlight. And\nwhen they four had met together and had saluted one another and had\nbespoken one another, they found that those two knights were Sir\nPercival and Sir Sagramore, and that they also were journeying as armed\ncompanions, as aforetold of in this history.\n\nSo they four went a little farther to where there was a pleasant\nthatched farmhouse not far distant from the roadside, and there they\nbroke their fast with bread and milk and fresh laid eggs and honey,\nwhich the farmer's wife served to them.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore telleth of the Adventure of the Fountain._]\n\nThen Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors besought Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore\nfor news, and therewith they two told Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors how they\nhad parted with Sir Ewaine and how that he had gone upon that Adventure\nof the Fountain. Then Sir Sagramore told them how it had befallen with\nhim upon that same adventure, and to all this Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors\nlistened very intently. And after Sir Sagramore had ended his story, Sir\nBors and Sir Gawaine asked him many questions concerning those\nhappenings, and he answered all that they asked him. Then Sir Gawaine\nsaid: \"Well, Messire, I wot that all this mischief of which thou tellest\nus was brewed by that sorceress the Lady Vivien. Well I know her, and\noften have I had reason to chide her in times gone by for the mischiefs\nshe was continually plotting against innocent folk. Now I have a mind to\nturn aside from my present quest and to find that lady and to bring her\nto repentance. And if I may not bring her to repentance then I shall\ncompel her to undo all these mischiefs she hath done in this matter of\nthe Fountain.\" Then Sir Sagramore said: \"Sir, hearken to me and let be,\nor else thou wilt entangle thyself in those mischiefs also.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine seeketh the Lady Vivien._]\n\nSo spake Sir Sagramore very wisely, but Sir Gawaine would not listen to\nwhat he said; otherwise he declared and affirmed that he would go and\nfind the Lady Vivien and have speech with her so that he would either\npersuade or else compel her to better conduct. So ere Sir Percival and\nSir Sagramore had departed from that farmhouse, Sir Gawaine had\ndiligently inquired the way in which he should go so as to be likely to\nfind the Lady Vivien, and after that he bade Sir Sagramore and Sir\nPercival farewell, and he bade Sir Bors farewell, and so took horse and\nrode away in quest of the Lady Vivien.\n\nNow after Sir Gawaine had thus parted company with those other knights,\nhe travelled all alone upon his way for the entire day, and that night\nhe lodged in the woodland, near to where there was a fountain of clear\npure water. And as he had no other shelter he wrapped himself in his\ncloak and laid his head upon his helmet and so fell asleep with great\ncomfort and peace of mind.\n\nSo also he awoke very cheerfully in the dawning of the day, and laying\naside his armor he went to the fountain of water near to which he had\nreposed and bathed himself therein and so was refreshed.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine findeth the Lady Vivien._]\n\nNow after that and while Sir Gawaine was still unarmed, he was suddenly\naware that several people were coming thitherward toward him through\nthe yellow woodlands, and when they had come pretty near he beheld that\nthose who approached were a company in attendance upon a lady. And he\nbeheld that the company and the lady who rode in the midst of that\ncompany were clad all in flame-colored satin, so that the entire\nwoodland was illuminated, as it were, by a great shining, flaming fire.\nAnd when that lady had come pretty nigh to Sir Gawaine, he knew who she\nwas and wist that she was the Lady Vivien.\n\nThen Sir Gawaine went to meet that lady, and he laid his hand upon the\nbridle rein of her palfrey and he said: \"Lady, if I mistake not, thou\nart the Lady Vivien.\"\n\nQuoth she: \"Yea, I am that one, and thou, I perceive, art Sir Gawaine.\"\nTo the which Sir Gawaine said, \"Yea, I am he,\" and he said, \"I have come\nhither with the especial purpose of having speech with thee.\"\n\nUpon this the Lady Vivien looked at Sir Gawaine very strangely, and by\nand by she said, \"What is it thou wouldst have of me, Messire?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine rebuketh the Lady Vivien._]\n\nSir Gawaine said: \"Lady, I am informed that thou hast done much mischief\nto a certain valley called the Valley of the Fountain, and I know that\nthrough this mischief thou hast brought mischance upon many good worthy\nknights. Now what I would have to say to thee is this: I would beseech\nthee to remove all of those mischievous enchantments from that Valley of\nthe Fountain and so set that valley free from the ills that happen to\nit. This I beseech thee of thy gentleness to do, but if thou wilt not do\nit because I so beseech thee, then I will compel thee here and now to\nremove those enchantments.\"\n\nThen the Lady Vivien's brows drew together into a frown and her cheeks\ngrew very red and her eyes shown like sparks of fire, and she said:\n\"Hah, Messire, methinks thou art very saucy in thy speech. What is it to\nthee what mischiefs I may do to others? Lo! I do no mischiefs to thee,\nwherefore this is none of thy affairs. Now I bid thee straightway to\ntake thy hand from off my bridle rein or else a greater ill than thou\nhast any thought of will speedily befall thee.\"\n\nSir Gawaine said: \"I will not take away my hand until thou hast promised\nme to do that thing which I have demanded of thee and to remove the\nenchantments of the Valley of the Fountain.\"\n\nThe Lady Vivien said, \"Take away thy hand, Messire!\" Sir Gawaine said,\n\"I will not.\"\n\nThen the Lady Vivien cried out: \"Thou fool! Then thank thyself for what\nthou shalt suffer.\"\n\nNow the Lady Vivien had in her hand a long white wand and as she spake\nshe lifted this wand and smote Sir Gawaine with it upon the shoulder.\nAnd as she smote him she cried out: \"Quit the shape that thou now hast\nand take instead the shape of a misshapen dwarf.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Vivien bewitcheth Sir Gawaine._]\n\nThen as she cried in that shrill and piercing voice, there befell a very\nwonderful thing, for, upon the instant, it happened in that wise as she\ncommanded. For Sir Gawaine immediately began to shrink and to shrivel so\nthat in the space one might count five he had ceased to be what he was\nand became instead a misshapen and diminutive dwarf.\n\nThen all they of the Lady Vivien's party laughed and laughed until all\nthe woods echoed with their mirth. And thus laughing, they took their\ndeparture, and rode away from that place, leaving Sir Gawaine standing\nthere all bewildered and astonished with terror at what had befallen\nhim.\n\nSo he stood for a little, like one in a maze, but after those others had\nentirely gone, he suddenly awoke, as it were, to his woful case. Then\nstraightway he began running hither and thither, as though he had gone\nmad. And he ran in this direction and in that direction, seeking for the\nLady Vivien, but nowhere could he discover any sign of her or her court.\nAnd ever as he ran he cried aloud in a voice of exceeding agony, \"Have\nmercy! Have mercy!\" But, as aforesaid, the lady and those who were with\nher had disappeared, and only the lonely woodlands surrounded him. Yet\nit appeared to him that he heard the sound of mocking laughter echoing\nthrough the forest, though whether that was really so or whether he was\ncheated by his fancy he could not certainly tell.\n\nSo after a while Sir Gawaine flung himself down upon the earth and wept\nwith despair. Then after another while he bestirred himself and prayed\nGod for help and wiped his eyes. And after that he gathered together the\npieces of his armor which he could not now wear upon his shrunken and\nmisshapen body, and he carried these pieces of armor away and hid them\nin a cave which he had observed not far distant from that place. Then he\nmounted upon his horse and rode away, not knowing whither to turn or\nwhat to do in the direful trouble that had fallen upon him.\n\nNow after he had ridden for a while in that way, perched high upon his\nhorse like some diminutive and withered ape, being still in the\nwoodlands, he was aware of the sound of voices and of horses' hoofs\ncoming toward him and then he was further aware of a company approaching\nfrom a distance through the half-naked forest.\n\n[Sidenote: _The Forest company behold Sir Gawaine as a dwarf._]\n\nThen Sir Gawaine was filled with a great panic of shame, and he thought\nof naught but how he might hide himself and his misshapen body from\nthose who were coming. But ere he was able to hide himself, those others\nhad catched sight of him. And they saw how singularly small and\ndeformed and withered was his shape, wherefore they shouted aloud and\ngave chase to him as though he had been a wild creature. So they pursued\nhim for a long distance and at last they came up with him and surrounded\nhim.\n\nThen, finding that he could not escape, Sir Gawaine leaped down from his\nhorse's back, and flinging himself upon the ground he covered his face\nwith his hands and sought to bury it, as it were, under the earth, so\nthat they who had caught him might not behold the shame of his misshapen\ncountenance. But they dragged him to his feet and they pulled his hands\naway from his face and beheld it what it was. Then, when they beheld\nthat his face was like the face of an ape they all shouted aloud again\nand again with laughter.\n\nThen he who was the chief of that party said: \"Who are you and how is it\nthat a misshapen dwarf such as you should be riding about here in the\nforest upon a noble and knightly war-horse?\" To the which Sir Gawaine\nsaid: \"Sir, a great misfortune hath befallen me, and I am not he whom I\nwas a little while ago.\" So said Sir Gawaine, and when they heard his\nspeech they thought he jested wherefore they laughed again and again\nwith a great uproar of laughter.\n\n[Sidenote: _They mock at Sir Gawaine._]\n\nThen he who had spoken to Sir Gawaine turned to those others and said,\n\"This poor creature is mad,\" but Sir Gawaine cried out: \"Nay, I am not\nmad, but very miserable and unfortunate. For this morning I was a noble\nknight of royal lineage and now I am what you behold me.\"\n\nAt this speech they who heard laughed more than ever, for they thought\nno otherwise than that this poor dwarf was mad and was making sport for\nthem.\n\nThen he who had before spoken to Sir Gawaine spake still again, saying:\n\"Sirrah, you are to know that the pet dwarf of the lady of the castle at\nwhich we dwell hath died only a few days ago. Now I will that you shall\ngo with us to her, and that you shall serve her instead of the other\ncreature who is dead. For certes you are the smallest and the most\nmisshapen elf that ever I beheld in all of my life. What think you of\nthis? If you go with us you shall have meat and drink in plenty and you\nshall have good clothes and lodging and fifty bright silver pennies a\nyear for your hire.\"\n\nThen Sir Gawaine cried out in a voice of great anguish: \"I will not go\nwith you for such a service. For if you did but know who I am and what\nit is that hath befallen me, you would know that such as I are not they\nto take such service upon them, nor am I one to make sport for a lady\nby exhibiting the miserable condition into which I have fallen from an\none time high estate.\"\n\nThus said Sir Gawaine in a great agony of spirit, but still those that\nheard him did but laugh. Then seeing that he was of no mind to go with\nthem, they bound his hands and his feet together so that he could not\nescape and so they constrained him to go whether he would or not.\n\nAfter that they departed out of that forest and away therefrom, and by\nand by Sir Gawaine beheld that they were approaching a castle and that\nthe castle was a very noble, stately, and lordly dwelling place.\n\n[Sidenote: _They bring Sir Gawaine to the castle of a lady._]\n\nSo they came to the castle and entered into the courtyard thereof, and\nafter they had so arrived, he who was the leader of that party took Sir\nGawaine up to a certain place where the lady of the castle was, and he\nsaid to her: \"Lady, behold this dwarf; we have caught him in the\nwoodlands and have brought him to you to serve you instead of that\ncreature who died a while since. Saw ye ever such a wonderful dwarf as\nthis?\"\n\nThen the lady of the castle looked upon Sir Gawaine and beheld how\nexceedingly diminutive he was and how exceedingly misshapen. And she was\nastonished at his appearance, and she said to him, \"Who art thou, and\nwhence comest thou?\" She spake with such kindness and gentleness that\nSir Gawaine was emboldened to tell her of his misfortune wherefore he\ncried out: \"Lady, if I would tell you you would not believe me, for I am\nnot what I appear to be, but am something altogether different. This\nmorning I was a noble knight, but I have been enchanted and now I am\nwhat you behold me.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The lady pitieth Sir Gawaine._]\n\nAt this the lady of the castle also thought that Sir Gawaine was\ncertainly mad, wherefore she said: \"This poor creature is not in his\nsenses. Take him hence and treat him very kindly. Let him be fed and\nclothed and then chain him with a very light chain of silver so that he\nmay not escape until he hath become used to this place, and yet so that\nhe may not be burdened with these chains.\"\n\nSo spoke the lady very kindly and gently, but Sir Gawaine was filled\nfull of an utter despair at her words. So he was taken away and fed like\nto some pet creature and he was chained as the lady had said and ever he\nwept for pure despair.\n\nNow the lady of that castle was very tender of heart, wherefore she\npitied Sir Gawaine because he appeared to be so misshapen and deformed.\nSo ever she spoke kindly and gently to him and she would not suffer that\nany of the people of the castle should torment him. Thus it was that\nthough at first Sir Gawaine was minded to escape from the castle, yet\nafterward he would not escape, for he said to himself: \"Why should I\nleave this place; and where can I, poor wretch that I be, find a better\nand kinder shelter in my misfortunes than I have at this castle?\" So he\nbecame gentle and tractable and would not have quitted that place even\nif he could have done so.\n\n[Sidenote: _How Sir Gawaine dwelleth at the castle._]\n\nAnd Sir Gawaine abode in that castle for more than a year, and ever the\nlady treated him with kindness and with gentle tenderness and ever he\ntreated her with such courtliness as a knight royal might bestow upon a\nlady. So great was his courtliness of demeanor that the lady marvelled\nmuch thereat, yea, insomuch that she said to herself: \"Certes this poor\ncreature must have been reared in a noble court or else he must have\ndwelt a long time in such a place, for to have learned such courtliness\nof manner as he showeth.\"\n\nAnd sometimes it befell that the lady would question Sir Gawaine as to\nwhat had happened to him in times gone by; but Sir Gawaine had taught\nhimself wisdom upon that point and now he would tell her nothing; for he\nwas aware that whenever he had been moved to speak about himself and\nwhat had befallen him, then they who heard him would think him to be\nmad, and would laugh at him and mock him, wherefore he would no longer\ngive any one the chance to declare that he was mad. So ever he held his\npeace and ever the lady of the castle wondered how it was that he had\ncome to have so much of gentleness and dignity of demeanor.\n\nSo that winter and another winter passed, and during all that time Sir\nGawaine abode at the castle of the gentle lady as aforesaid. Then came\nthe springtime and the summertime again, and the season when all the\ntrees were green and bosky and when the days were warm and balmy once\nmore.\n\nNow it befell about the middle of that summer that the lord and the lady\nof the castle whereof Sir Gawaine was now the dwarf went forth ahawking,\nand a very gay court of the castle folk went with them. With these the\nlady took her dwarf, for it was now come that she could hardly ever bear\nto be parted from him. And it befell that when the heat of the day had\ncome the lord of the castle gave orders that a pavilion should be\npitched in a pleasant shady place, and there he and his lady took their\nmidday meal and rested until the sun should shed a less fervid heat.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine beholdeth the golden bird._]\n\nThat time Sir Gawaine was wandering very sadly about the skirts of the\nforest, making great moan of that enchantment that lay upon him. So as\nhe wandered he was suddenly aware of a bird with plumage of gold that\nsat upon the ground at a little distance, regarding him with eyes that\nwere very bright and shining. Now when Sir Gawaine beheld that bird, his\nheart leaped very strangely in his breast, for he bethought him that\nthis was that same golden bird of the Lady Nymue of the Lake which she\nhad sent to him one time before to guide him to the valley where Sir\nPellias was abiding. For it hath been aforetime told in that Book of\nKing Arthur (which hath been written before this book) how that same\ngolden bird had conducted Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine and Sir Marhaus of\nIreland through the forest to where Sir Pellias was at that time in\ngreat trouble and anxiety of soul. So Sir Gawaine, beholding that bird\nthere in the forest, wist that it was the Lady Nymue's bird, and he\nthought that if he should follow it now, maybe it might bring him to the\nLady of the Lake, and that she would release him from his deformity.\n\nSo Sir Gawaine went back to that pavilion whence he had come, and he\ntook a palfrey that he found there, and no one stayed him, for the dwarf\nwas now permitted to go whithersoever he pleased. So Sir Gawaine mounted\nthe palfrey and departed without saying a single word to any one, and no\none stayed him in his going.\n\nSo Sir Gawaine came again to where he had seen the bird and the bird was\nstill sitting upon the ground where he had first beheld it.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine followeth the golden bird into the forest._]\n\nThen as Sir Gawaine approached the bird it took wing and flew with\nshrill chirping to a little distance and then settled again upon the\nground. And when Sir Gawaine approached it again, again it took wing and\nflew chirping to a little distance. So ever it flew and so ever Sir\nGawaine followed, and thus it conducted him into the forest and away\nfrom that place where was the pavilion of the lord and lady.\n\nThus ever the golden bird led the way and ever Sir Gawaine followed,\nuntil, at last, the bird brought Sir Gawaine out of the forest and to a\nstrange place which he had never beheld before. For beyond the edge of\nthe woodland he beheld a dreary valley, naked and bare, and covered all\nover with a great multitude of stones and rocks. And in that valley\ncould be seen no sign of vegetation or of herbage of any sort, but only\nthose naked and desolate rocks and stones all shining bright in the heat\nof the sun as though they were ribs of stones shining in a furnace of\nfire.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine beholdeth the cloudy mist._]\n\nAnd Sir Gawaine beheld that in the centre of the valley there was a\ncloud of thick mist in the shape of a solid pillar of smoke. And he\nbeheld that that cloud of mist moved not in any way but remained fixed\nin its place as it were a pillar of stone.\n\nThen Sir Gawaine looked for that golden bird and he beheld it perched\nupon the high branches of a tree near by. And he saw that the bird had\nfolded its wings as though to rest, wherefore he knew that there must\nbe somewhat at this place for him to undertake, and that the bird must\nhave conducted him to this place for that purpose.\n\nSo Sir Gawaine, in that enchanted appearance of a dwarf, went down into\nthe valley and drew near to that pillar of mist. And he came close to\nthe cloud and he stood and looked upon it. Then as he so stood, a voice\nissued of a sudden out of the midst of the cloud saying, \"Gawaine!\nGawaine! is it thou who art there?\" And Sir Gawaine was astonished\nbeyond all measure that a voice should thus address him from out of the\nmidst of the pillar of cloud, for he had long since ceased to think that\nany creature, mortal or otherwise, would know him in the guise into\nwhich the Lady Vivien had bewitched him.\n\nBut though he was so astonished, yet he answered in the voice of the\ndwarf, saying, \"Who art thou who callest upon the name of Gawaine, the\nson of Lot of Orkney?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine heareth the voice of Merlin._]\n\nThen the voice replied: \"I who speak to thee am Merlin. Here for twelve\nyears have I been lying asleep, enclosed in a coffer of stone, yet once\nin every six years I awake for one hour of life and at the end of that\nhour I relapse into sleep again. This is my time for waking, and so hast\nthou been brought hither that thou mightest hear that prophecy that I\nhave to utter.\n\n\"And this is my prophecy:\n\n[Sidenote: _Of the prophecy of Merlin._]\n\n\"The Sacred Grail that has been lost to the earth for so long shall be\nbrought back to that earth again. Yea, the time draweth nigh and now is\nwhen he who shall achieve the Quest of that Holy Chalice is about to be\nborn into the world.\"\n\nAnd the voice from out of the cloud continued, saying:\n\n\"When that babe is born into the world he shall be taken away by that\nknight who is most worthy to handle him, and after he hath been taken\naway he shall be hidden by that knight from the eyes of man until his\ntime hath come.\n\n\"You, who are a sinful man, may not have that babe in your keeping, but\nthere is one who hath but little of sin and he may do so. So do you\naccording to the ordination of this command:\n\n\"Follow that golden-winged thing that hath conducted you hither and it\nwill lead you to where you may become purified of your enchantment.\nAfter that you shall follow that golden bird still farther and it will\nlead you to where you shall find Sir Bors de Ganis. He it is who is most\nworthy in all of the world at this present for to handle that babe, and\nso he shall care for him and shall hide him in a place of safety until\nhis time shall be come.\n\n\"Bid Sir Bors to follow that golden bird along with you and it shall\nbring you both to where you shall find that wonderful infant aforesaid.\n\n\"Thereafter, when that babe shall have been taken away by Sir Bors, go\nyou forth and proclaim to all men that when eighteen years have passed,\nthen shall the Knights of the Round Table depart in quest of the Holy\nGrail. And do you proclaim this prophecy: that when that Grail hath been\nrecovered, then soon after shall come the end of the Round Table, and so\nshall end the days of all this chivalry that shall forever be remembered\nto all the world.\n\n\"And this is the prophecy of the Grail which you have been brought\nhither to hear, so go you forth and declare it abroad so that all good\nworthy knights may know that this prophecy hath been uttered.\"\n\nSo spake that voice, and then it ceased and Sir Gawaine listened for a\nwhile, but still it spake no more. Then Sir Gawaine cried out aloud:\n\"Merlin, what may I do to free thee from the enchantment that lieth upon\nthee?\" And he waited for a reply, but no reply was vouchsafed him. And\nhe cried out again, \"Merlin, what may I do to free thee from where thou\nliest?\" but still no answer was given to him.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine striveth to enter the cloud of mist._]\n\nThen Sir Gawaine went forward with intent to enter that cloud of mist,\nbut lo! it was like to a wall of adamant and he could nowhere enter into\nit. And he strove at several places but still there was no place where\nhe might penetrate it. For the enchantment that lay upon that pillar of\nmist was so potent that it was not possible for any one to enter it\nsaving only the enchantress Vivien, who herself had created that cloud\nby her powerful enchantments.\n\nAnd ever Sir Gawaine called repeatedly upon the name of Merlin, but at\nno time did Merlin answer him. Then by and by Sir Gawaine was aware that\nthe golden bird that had brought him to that place was flitting hither\nand thither near by, as though it were very restless to depart. So Sir\nGawaine was aware that it behooved him presently to quit that place\nwhither he might never return again. So once more he called aloud upon\nMerlin, saying, \"Farewell, Merlin,\" and it appeared to him that he heard\na voice, very faint and distant as though sounding from a dream that is\nfading, and he seemed that voice said, \"Farewell.\"\n\nThereafter Sir Gawaine mounted his palfrey and turned him about and\ndeparted from that place, still in the guise of a dwarf, and so that\nprophecy of Merlin was completed.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Sidenote: _Of the sleep of Merlin._]\n\nAnd never more after that time was the voice of Merlin heard again, for\nno one saving Sir Gawaine ever found that valley with its pillar of\ncloud. Yet it may be that Merlin did but sleep, for it was prophesied\nof him that at the ending of the age he should come forth again into the\nworld, but whether he should come forth in the spirit or in the flesh,\nno one knew. Yea, there be many who opine that Merlin hath awakened\nagain and is alive this very day, for such miracles are performed in\nthese times that it is hardly possible to suppose otherwise than that\nthe spirit of Merlin is in the world once more. Wherefore it is that\nmany suppose that he is now again alive, though haply in the spirit.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow followeth the story of the birth of Galahad, who was the most famous\nknight who ever lived in the world and who achieved the Quest of the\nGrail as was foretold by Merlin in that prophecy herein recounted. So I\npray you to read that story as it shall presently be told.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n[Illustration: Sir Bors de Ganis, the good:]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nChapter Second\n\n_How Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine came to a priory in the forest, and how\nGalahad was born at that place._\n\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine cometh to the magic lake._]\n\nSo Sir Gawaine followed the golden bird away from that valley of\nenchantment where Merlin lay bound in sleep in the stone coffer (and\nconcerning that stone coffer and the enchantment of Merlin it was\naforetold of at length in the Book of King Arthur). And ever he followed\nthat winged golden creature both long and far, and ever the bird ceased\nnot to flit before him, but led him onward in a certain direction. So\nthus it befell that toward the evening of that same day Sir Gawaine,\nstill following the golden bird, came out of the forest again and to a\nwonderful place, lit by a strange golden light that was not like the\nlight of the moon nor like the light of the sun nor like any other kind\nof light that was to be found in the world of mortal man. For though it\nwas toward evening when Sir Gawaine came to that place, yet everywhere\nthere was that golden radiance both upon earth and in the sky. And in\nthis light Sir Gawaine beheld a wide and circular lake, very still and\nshining, and without any ripple upon the face thereof, so that it was\nrather like to a lake of crystal than to a lake of water. And all about\nthe margin of the lake there bloomed an incredible number of tall\nflowers, both lily flowers and asphodels.\n\nThen, as Sir Gawaine drave his horse forward through those flowers, he\nbecame aware that this was that magic lake where dwelt the Lady Nymue of\nthe Lake and where dwelt Sir Pellias who was her lord and the\nknight-champion of the lake--for he had beheld that lake aforetime by\nmoonlight when he had followed Sir Pellias to that place.\n\nNow as Sir Gawaine thus advanced amidst the flowers, he was aware that a\nlittle distance away there stood a pavilion of green satin adorned with\ngolden figures of cherubim and so he went forward toward that pavilion,\nfor ever the golden bird led him thitherward.\n\nSo as he came toward that pavilion there issued forth therefrom a lady\nwho came to meet him. And that lady was clad all in a garment of shining\ngreen; and she wore about her neck many bright and glistering ornaments\nof gold inset with stones about her wrists and arms. And her hair was\nperfectly black and her face was white like to ivory for whiteness and\nher eyes were black and shining like to two jewels set in ivory. And Sir\nGawaine immediately knew that lady who she was and that she was the Lady\nof the Lake herself; for so she appeared to King Arthur and so she\nappeared to several others, as you may read of if it should please you\nin those volumes of this history that were written before this volume.\n\nSo the Lady of the Lake came forward to meet Sir Gawaine, and she beheld\nSir Gawaine how that he was bewitched into the guise of a dwarf as\naforetold. And the lady said: \"Certes, Messire, this is a great\nmisfortune that hath befallen thee. Now I prithee come with me until I\nmake an end of thy enchantment.\"\n\nSo the Lady of the Lake took the horse of Sir Gawaine by the bridle, and\nshe led the horse through those flowers for some little distance, and so\nbrought him to the margin of the waters of the lake. And when they had\ncome there the Lady of the Lake stooped and dipped up some of the water\nof the lake into her hand; and she flung the water upon Sir Gawaine,\ncrying out in a high and piercing voice: \"Cease from thy present shape,\nand assume that shape that is thine own!\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady of the Lake healeth Sir Gawaine of his\nenchantment._]\n\nTherewith, upon an instant, the enchantment that had rested upon Sir\nGawaine was released from him and he became himself again, resuming his\nown knightly appearance instead of that semblance of a misshapen dwarf\ninto which the enchantment of the Lady Vivien had cast him.\n\nThen Sir Gawaine leaped down from off the back of that poor palfrey upon\nwhich he had been riding, and he kneeled down before that fair and\ngentle Lady of the Lake, and he set the palms of his hands together and\ngave her words of pure gratitude beyond stint that she had removed that\nenchantment from him. And ever the Lady of the Lake looked down upon Sir\nGawaine and smiled very kindly upon him. And she said: \"Messire, abide\nthis night in yonder pavilion, for it hath been prepared for thee to\nrest in. To-morrow, after thou hast thus rested and refreshed thyself,\nthen thou shalt go forward upon thy way again.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady of the Lake departeth._]\n\nThen the Lady of the Lake gave her hand to Sir Gawaine and he took it\nand kissed it. And after that she turned and approached the lake, and at\nthat time the sky was all golden both with the glory of the fading day\nand with that other glory, the strange magic light that embalmed that\nwonderful lake as aforetold. And Sir Gawaine, still kneeling upon the\nstrand of the lake, beheld that the Lady of the Lake reached the water,\nand stretched forth her foot and set it upon the surface of the lake as\nthough the water had been a sheet of clear glass. And as soon as that\nlady thus touched the water of the lake, she immediately disappeared\nfrom sight, and thenceforth was seen no more at that time.\n\nAfter that Sir Gawaine arose from where he kneeled, and he went toward\nthe pavilion and as he approached it there came forth two esquires to\nmeet him. And those esquires were people of the lake, for they also were\nclad in garments of green like the garments of the Lady of the Lake, and\nthose garments also shone with a singular lustre as did her garments.\nAnd their hair was perfectly black and each wore a fillet of gold about\nhis head.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine is served by the people of the lake._]\n\nThese came to Sir Gawaine and conducted him to the pavilion and into the\npavilion. In the pavilion was a couch and Sir Gawaine seated himself\nthereon, and after he had done so the two esquires brought a table of\ngold and placed it before him. Then they spread a napkin of white linen\nupon the table and anon they set before Sir Gawaine a very bounteous\nfeast of various meats, and of manchets of white bread and of divers\nwines both red and white. So Sir Gawaine ate and drank and refreshed\nhimself, and meantime the two esquires of the lake served him in all\nways.\n\nAfter that Sir Gawaine laid him down to sleep, and he slept very\npeacefully and gently and without any anxiety whatsoever. And when the\nmorning had come he bestirred himself and presently there came to him\nthose two esquires and aided him to arise. And they brought new rich\ngarments for him to wear, and they brought him food wherewith to refresh\nhimself, and after that they brought him a suit of splendid armor,\npolished like a mirror and inlaid with various singular devices in gold.\n\nThen those esquires of the lake armed Sir Gawaine and brought him forth\nfrom the pavilion, and Sir Gawaine beheld a noble and lordly war-horse\ncaparisoned in all ways, and in all ways fitting for a Knight Royal to\nride upon. And the esquire said to him: \"Sir, this is your horse, and it\nhath been purveyed expressly for you.\"\n\nSo Sir Gawaine viewed the war-horse and saw how noble it was, and he\nmounted upon it with great joy of possession and he gave thanks without\nmeasure to those two esquires who had served him. After that he rode\naway from that place with such lightness of heart and with such peace\nand happiness of spirit as doth not often come to any man in this life.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine followeth the golden bird once more._]\n\nThen presently there came that golden bird once more and flitted before\nSir Gawaine as it had aforetime done, chirping very shrilly the while.\nAnd Sir Gawaine followed the bird once more as aforetime, and it led him\nas it had before done ever in a certain direction. So it brought him\nonward in that wise until about the middle of the day, what time he came\nforth into an open place of the forest and there beheld before him the\nforest hermitage several times mentioned in these histories.\n\nAnd Sir Gawaine saw that a noble black war-horse stood beside that\nforest sanctuary, and he saw that a great spear leaned against a tree\nbeside the hermitage and that a shield hung from the spear. And when Sir\nGawaine had come close enough he knew by the device upon that shield\nthat it was Sir Bors de Ganis who was there at the hermitage.\n\nNow as Sir Gawaine approached the cell of the hermit of the forest, the\nhorse of Sir Bors neighed aloud, and the horse of Sir Gawaine neighed in\nanswer. Therewith, as though that neighing had been a summons, the door\nof the hut opened and the hermit appeared in the doorway, shading his\neyes with his hand from the glare of the sun. So when he perceived that\nit was Sir Gawaine who approached that lonely place he cried out aloud:\n\"Welcome Sir Gawaine! Welcome to this place! Sir Bors is here and\nawaiting thee. For it hath been told him in a dream that thou wouldst\nmeet him here at this time to-day, and so he is here awaiting thy coming\nin fulfillment of that dream.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine meets Sir Bors again._]\n\nSo Sir Gawaine dismounted from his horse and he entered the cell of the\nhermit and there he beheld Sir Bors kneeling at prayer at a little\naltar, and Sir Gawaine stood and waited until Sir Bors had finished his\norisons. And when Sir Bors had crossed himself and had arisen to his\nfeet, he turned with great joy and took Sir Gawaine into his arms; and\neither embraced the other and either kissed the other upon the cheek.\n\nAfter that they sat down and the hermit brought them food and they ate\nof the simple fare of the hermit's cell, and meantime Sir Gawaine told\nSir Bors all that had happened to him since they had parted company. To\nall that was said Sir Bors listened with deep attention, for he was\nmuch, astonished at that which had befallen Sir Gawaine and at the\nenchantment he had suffered at the hands of the Lady Vivien. And indeed\nit was, of a surety, a very wonderful adventure, such as any one might\nwell have marvelled to hear tell of.\n\nBut when Sir Gawaine told Sir Bors concerning the prophecy of Merlin,\nthen Sir Bors became all enwrapped as with a certain exaltation of\nspirit. Wherefore, when Sir Gawaine had finished that part of his\nstory, Sir Bors cried out: \"How wonderful is this miracle that thou\ntellest me! Know ye that certain things of this sort have been presented\nbefore me of late in several dreams, but lo! now they have been\nmanifested to thee in reality.\" And he said: \"Let us straightway arise\nand go forth hence, for methinks that even now we have tarried too long\nin performing the bidding of this prophecy.\" Accordingly they arose and\nthey gave thanks in full measure to that good old hermit and they bade\nhim farewell. Thereafter they went forth and mounted their horses and\ntook shield and spear in hand and departed thence, and after they had so\ndeparted, straightway the golden bird appeared once more and flew\nchirping before them.\n\nThen Sir Bors, beholding the bird, said: \"Lo! is not yonder the bird\nthat has been sent to lead us upon our way?\" And Sir Gawaine said, \"Yea;\nthat is it.\" And then Sir Bors said, \"Let us follow it apace.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors follow the golden bird._]\n\n[Sidenote: _They come to the priory of the valley._]\n\nSo they followed the bird, and ever it flew before them, leading them\nupon the way. Thus they travelled for a long while, until at last,\ntoward the sloping of the afternoon, they became aware that the forest\nwherein they rode was becoming thinner. And anon they were aware of the\nringing of a bell somewhere not a great distance away. And the bird led\nthem toward where that bell was ringing, and so in a little pass they\ncame forth out of the forest and into a very fertile valley. And there\nwas a smooth river, not very broad, that flowed down through the valley,\nand beside the river there was a fair priory, not large in size but very\ncomely, with white walls and red roofs and many shining windows, very\nbright in the sun. And all about the priory were fair fields and\norchards and gardens, all illuminated very bright and warm, in the full\nlight of the slanting sun that was now turning all the world to gold by\nits bright, yellow and very glorious shining.\n\nSo when Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine entered this pleasant plain, the golden\nbird that had led them thitherward suddenly chirped very loud and\nshrill, and straightway flew high aloft into the air and immediately\ndisappeared over the tree tops. Thereupon those two champions knew with\ncertainty that this must be the place whither they were to come, and\nthey wist that here they should doubtless find that young child of which\nthe prophecy of Merlin had spoken. So they went forward toward the\npriory with a certain awe, as not knowing what next of mystery was to\nhappen to them.\n\n[Sidenote: _They meet Sir Lavaine._]\n\nSo as they approached that holy place, the gateway of the priory was\nsuddenly opened, and there came forth a young knight of a very noble\nand haughty appearance, and both Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors knew that one,\nthat he was Sir Lavaine, the brother of the Lady Elaine, and whilom the\ncompanion in arms of Sir Launcelot of the Lake. And as they drew more\nnear they beheld that the face of Sir Lavaine was very sad and that he\nsmiled not at all as he gave them greeting, saying: \"Ye are welcome,\nMessires, and ye come none too soon, for we have been waiting for you\nsince the morning.\" And he said, \"Dismount and come with me.\"\n\nSo Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine dismounted from their horses and straightway\nthere came several attendants and took the steeds and led them away to\nstable. Then Sir Lavaine turned, and he beckoned with his hand, and Sir\nBors and Sir Gawaine followed after as he had commanded them to do. So\nSir Lavaine brought them through several passageways and from place to\nplace until at last he brought them to a small cell of the priory, very\ncold and bare and white as snow.\n\n[Sidenote: _They behold the Lady Elaine._]\n\nIn the centre of the cell there lay a couch and upon the couch there lay\na figure as still as death and Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine beheld that it\nwas the Lady Elaine who lay there. Her hair lay spread out all over the\npillow of the couch, shining like to pure gold, and in the midst of the\nhair her face shone very white, like to pure clear wax for whiteness.\nHer eyes looked, as it were, from out of a faint shadow and gazed ever\nstraight before her and she never stirred nor moved her gaze as Sir Bors\nand Sir Gawaine and Sir Lavaine entered her cell; for it was as though\nher looks were fixed upon something very strange that she beheld a great\ndistance away.\n\n[Sidenote: _They behold the young child._]\n\nThen Sir Lavaine, speaking in a whisper, said, \"Come near and behold,\"\nand thereupon Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine came close to the couch upon\nwhich the Lady Elaine lay. So when they had come nigh, Sir Lavaine\nlifted the coverlet very softly and they beheld that a new-born babe lay\nbeside the lady upon that couch. Then they wist that that babe was the\nchild of Sir Launcelot of the Lake and the Lady Elaine; and they wist\nthat this was the babe of whom Merlin had spoken in his prophecy. For\nthe child was very wonderfully beautiful, and it was as though a certain\nclear radiance of light shone forth from its face; and it lay so\nperfectly still that it was like as though it did not live. So Sir Bors\nand Sir Gawaine knew because of these and several other things that this\nmust indeed be that very child whom they had come to find. Yea, it was\nas though a voice from a distance said: \"Behold! this is that one who\nshall achieve the Quest of the Holy Grail according to the prophecy of\nMerlin.\"\n\nSo Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine kneeled down beside the bed and set their\npalms together, and Sir Lavaine stood near them, and for a while all was\nvery silent in that place. Then suddenly the Lady Elaine spake in that\nsilence in a voice very faint and remote but very clear, and as she\nspake she turned not her eyes toward any one of them, but gazed ever\nstraight before her. And she said, \"Sir Bors, art thou there?\" and Sir\nBors said, \"Yea, Lady.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine bespeaketh Sir Bors._]\n\nThen she said: \"Behold this child and look you upon him, for this is he\nwho shall achieve the Quest of the Holy Grail and shall bring it back to\nthe earth again. So he shall become the greatest knight that ever the\nworld beheld. But though he shall be the greatest champion at arms that\never lived, yet also he shall be gentle and meek and without sin,\ninnocent like to a little child. And because he is to be so high in\nchivalry and so pure of life, therefore his name shall be called\nGalahad.\" And she said again, \"Sir Bors, art thou there?\" and he said,\n\"Yea, Lady.\"\n\nShe said: \"My time draweth near, for even now I behold the shining gates\nof Paradise, though it yet is that I behold them faintly, as through a\nvapor of mist. Yet anon that mist shall pass, and I shall behold those\ngates very near by and shining in glory; for soon I shall quit this\ntroubled world for that bright and beautiful country. Nevertheless, I\nshall leave behind me this child who lieth beside me, and his life shall\nenlighten that world from which I am withdrawing.\" Then she said for the\nthird time, \"Sir Bors, art thou there?\" And Sir Bors wept, and he said,\n\"Yea, Lady, I am here.\"\n\nThen the Lady Elaine said: \"Take thou this child and bear him hence unto\na certain place that thou shalt find. Thou shalt know that place because\nthere shall go before thee a bird with golden plumage, and it shall show\nthee where thou art to take this child. Leave the child at that place\nwhither the bird shall lead thee, and tell no man where that place is.\nFor this child must hide in secret until the time shall come when he\nshall be manifested to the world.\" And she said, \"Hearest thou me, Sir\nBors?\" And Sir Bors, still weeping, said, \"Yea, Lady.\"\n\nThen she said: \"Go and tarry not in thy going, for the ending is very\nnear. Wait not until that end cometh, but go immediately and do as I\nhave asked thee to do.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Bors departeth with the young child._]\n\nThen, still weeping, Sir Bors arose from where he kneeled, and he took\nthe young child and he wrapped it in his cloak and he went out thence\nand was gone, taking the babe with him.\n\nAnd this while Sir Gawaine and Sir Lavaine also wept, and ever Sir\nGawaine still kneeled and Sir Lavaine stood beside him.\n\nSuch is the story of the nativity of Sir Galahad, who afterward achieved the Quest\nof the Holy Grail as was prophesied in the prophecy of Merlin.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Sidenote: _The passing of Elaine the Fair._]\n\nThat same day the Lady Elaine died about the middle watch of the night,\ndeparting from this world in great peace and good content, and Sir\nGawaine and Sir Lavaine were with her at the time of her passing.\n\nThen Sir Gawaine said, weeping, \"Let me go and fetch Sir Launcelot of\nthe Lake hither.\" But Sir Lavaine, speaking very sternly, said: \"Let be\nand bring him not, for he is not worthy to be brought hither. But as for\nyou, do you depart, for I have yet that to do I would do alone. So go\nyou immediately and return unto the court of the King. But when you have\ncome to the King's court, I charge you to say nothing unto any one\nconcerning the birth of the child Galahad, nor of how this sweet, fair\nlady is no more, for I have a certain thing to do that I would fain\nperform before those things are declared. So when you have come to court\nsay nothing of these matters of which I have spoken.\" To the which Sir\nGawaine said, \"Messire, it shall be as you desire in all things.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine departeth from the priory._]\n\nSo immediately Sir Gawaine went forth and called for his horse, and they\nbrought his horse to him and he mounted and departed from that place,\nleaving Sir Lavaine alone with his dead.\n\nAnd it remaineth here to be said that Sir Gawaine went directly from\nthat place to the court of the King, and when he had come there he told\nonly of those adventures that had happened to him when the Lady Vivien\nhad bewitched him. But of those other matters: to wit, of the nativity\nof Galahad and of the death of the Lady Elaine, he said naught to any\none but concealed those things for the time being in his own heart.\n\nYet ever he pondered those things and meditated upon them in the silent\nwatches of the night. For the thought of those things filled him at once\nwith joy and with a sort of terror; with hope and with a manner of\ndespair; wherefore his spirit was troubled because of those things which\nhe had beheld, for he knew not what their portent might be.\n\n[Illustration: The Barge of the Dead]\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nConclusion\n\n\nNow after Sir Bors had departed and after Sir Gawaine had departed as\naforesaid--the one at the one time and the other at the other--there\ncame several of those of the priory to that cell of death. And they\nlifted up that still and peaceful figure and bare it away to the chapel\nof the priory. And they laid it upon a bier in the chapel and lit\ncandles around about the bier, and they chanted all night in the chapel\na requiem to the repose of the gentle soul that was gone. And when the\nmorning light had dawned Sir Lavaine came to that chapel when the\ncandles were still alight in the dull gray of the early day and he\nkneeled for a long time in prayer beside the bier.\n\nThereafter and when he had ended his prayers, he arose and departed from\nthat place, and he went to the people of the priory, and he said to\nthem, \"Whither is it that this river floweth?\" They say: \"It floweth\ndown from this place past the King's town of Camelot, and thence it\nfloweth onward until it floweth into the sea to the southward.\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Lavaine findeth a boat._]\n\nSir Lavaine said, \"Is there ere a boat at this place that may float upon\nthe river?\" And they say to him: \"Yea, Messire, there is a barge and\nthere is a man that saileth that barge and that man is deaf and dumb\nfrom birth.\" At that Sir Lavaine said: \"I pray you to bring me to where\nthat deaf and dumb bargeman is.\"\n\nSo one of those to whom he spake took him to a certain place where was\nthat barge, and the deaf and dumb bargeman. And the bargeman was a very\nold man with a long beard as white as snow and he gazed very steadfastly\nupon Sir Lavaine as he drew near thitherward. So Sir Lavaine came close\nto the bargeman and he made signs to him, asking him if he would ferry\nhim down the stream to the King's town, and the dumb bargeman understood\nwhat Sir Lavaine would have and he made signs in answer that it should\nbe as Sir Lavaine desired.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Lavaine with the dead lady departeth in the barge._]\n\nAfter that Sir Lavaine gave command that the barge should be hung and\ndraped all with white samite embroidered with silver and he gave command\nthat a couch of white samite should be established upon the barge, and\nthe covering of the couch was also embroidered with silver. So when all\nwas in readiness there came forth a procession from the chapel, bearing\nthat still and silent figure, and they brought it to the barge and laid\nit upon the couch of white samite that had been prepared for it.\nThereafter Sir Lavaine entered the barge and took his station in the bow\nof the boat and the deaf and dumb man took his station in the stern\nthereof.\n\nThen the bargeman trimmed the sail and so the barge drew slowly away\nfrom that place, many standing upon the landing-stage and watching its\ndeparture.\n\n[Sidenote: _So they descend the flood._]\n\nAnd after that the barge floated gently down the smooth stream of the\nriver, and ever the deaf and dumb man guided it upon its way. And anon\nthey floated down betwixt banks of rushes, with here and there a row of\npollard willow-trees and thickets of alder. And all about them was the\npleasant weather of the summertime, with everything abloom with grace\nand beauty.\n\nThen anon, departing from those marshy stretches with their rushes and\ntheir willows and their alders, they drifted past some open\nmeadow-lands, with fields and uplands all trembling in the still hot\nsunlight. And after that they came to a more populous country where were\nseveral small towns and villages with here and there a stone bridge\ncrossing the river. And at those places of habitation many came and\nstood upon a bridge beneath which they passed, and others stood upon the\nsmooth and grassy banks of the stream and gazed in awe at that wonderful\nbarge as it drifted by adown the flood. And they who thus gazed would\nwhisper and marvel at what they beheld and would cross themselves for\nawe and terror.\n\nSo ever they floated onward until at last they came to within sight of\nthe town of Camelot.\n\nAfter that, in a little they came to the town and as they passed by the\ntown walls, lo! a great multitude of people came and stood upon the\nwalls and gazed down upon that white bedraped barge and those who were\nwithin. And all the people whispered to one another in awe, saying:\n\"What is this and what doth it portend? Is this real or is it a vision\nthat we behold?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _So they come to Camelot._]\n\nBut ever that barge drifted onward past the walls and past those who\nstood thereon, and so, at last, it came to a landing-place of stone\nsteps not far distant from the castle of the King. There the dumb\nbargeman made fast the barge to the iron rings of the landing-stage, and\nso that strange voyage was ended.\n\nNow at that time King Arthur and many of the lords and some of the\nladies of his court sat at feast in the royal hall of the castle, and\namongst those was Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere. So as they sat\nthus, there came one of a sudden running into the hall as in affright,\nand thereat all looked upon him and wondered wherefore he came into the\nhall in that way. Then King Arthur said, \"What ails thee that thou\ncomest hither to us thus?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _King Arthur heareth news of the barge._]\n\nThen he who came kneeled before King Arthur, and he said: \"Lord, here is\na wonderful thing. For down by the river there hath come a barge to the\nlanding-stairs of the castle, and that barge is hung all with white\nsamite embroidered with silver. And in the barge and upon a couch of\nwhite samite there lieth a dead lady so beautiful that I do not think\nher like is to be found in all of the earth. And a dumb man sits in the\nstern of the boat, and a noble young knight sits in the bow of the boat\nwith his face shrouded in his mantle as though for grief. And that\nknight sits there as silent and as motionless as the dead lady, and the\ndumb man sits there also, like to an image of a man rather than a man of\nflesh and blood. Wherefore it is that I have come hither to bring you\nword of this wonderful thing.\"\n\nThen King Arthur said: \"This is indeed a most singular story that thou\ntellest us. Now let us all straightway go and see what this portendeth.\"\n\nSo the King arose from where he sat, and he descended therefrom, and he\nwent forth out of the hall, and all who were there went with him.\n\n[Sidenote: _King Arthur and his court go to where is the barge._]\n\nNow first of all there went King Arthur, and among those who were last\nthere went Sir Launcelot of the Lake. For when he had heard of that dead\nlady he bethought him of the Lady Elaine and of how she was even then in\ntender health, wherefore he repented him with great bitterness of heart\nthat he was not with her at that time instead of lingering at court as\nhe did. And he said to himself: \"Suppose that she should die like to\nthis dead lady in the barge--what would I do if that should have\nhappened unto me?\" So it was that his feet lagged because of his heavy\nthoughts, and so it was that he was near the last who came to the\nriverside where was that barge as aforesaid.\n\nNow, there were many of the towns folk standing there, but upon King\nArthur's coming all those made way for him, and so he came and stood\nupon the upper step of the landing-stairs and looked down into the boat.\nAnd he beheld that figure that was lying there and knew it that it was\nthe Lady Elaine who lay there dead.\n\nThen the King looked for a little upon that dead figure as it were in a\nsort of terror, and then he said, \"Where is Sir Launcelot?\"\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot beholdeth the dead._]\n\nNow when the King so spake, they who stood there made way, and Sir\nLauncelot came through the press and stood also at the head of the\nstairs and looked down into the barge. Then of a sudden--as it were in\nan instant of time--he beheld with his very eyes that thing which he had\nbeen thinking of anon; for there before him and beneath him lay in very\ntruth the dead image of that dear lady of whom he had been thinking only\na moment before.\n\nThen it was as though Sir Launcelot had suddenly been struck with a\nshaft of death, for he neither moved nor stirred. Nay, it was not to be\nperceived that he even so much as breathed. But ever he stood there\ngazing down into that boat as though he had forgotten for that while\nthat there was anybody else in all of the world saving only himself and\nthat dead lady. And many of those who were there looked upon the face of\nSir Launcelot, and they beheld that his countenance was altogether as\nwhite as the face of that dead figure who lay in the barge beneath them.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Lavaine accuseth Sir Launcelot._]\n\nThen a great hush of silence fell over all and every voice was stilled,\nand at that hush of silence Sir Lavaine lifted the hood from his face\nand looked up from where he sat in the boat at the feet of the dead\nlady, and so beheld Sir Launcelot where he stood. Then upon the instant\nSir Lavaine stood up in the barge and he cried out in a great loud harsh\nvoice: \"Hah! art thou there, thou traitor knight? Behold the work that\nthou hast done; for this that thou beholdest is thy handiwork. Thou hast\nbetrayed this lady's love for the love of another, and so thou hast\nbrought her to her death!\"\n\nSo said Sir Lavaine before all those who were there, but it was as\nthough Sir Launcelot heard him not, for ever he stood as though he were\na dead man and not a living man of flesh and blood. Then of a sudden he\nawoke, as it were, to life, and he clasped the back of his hands across\nhis eyes, and cried out in a voice as though that voice tore his heart\nasunder, \"Remorse! Remorse! Remorse!\" saying those words three times\nover in that wise.\n\nThen he shut his lips tight as though to say no more, and thereupon\nturned and went away from that place.\n\n[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot departeth._]\n\nAnd he turned neither to this side nor to that, but went straight to the\ncastle of the King, and there ordered that his horse should be brought\nforth to him upon the instant. So when his horse was brought he mounted\nit and rode away; and he bade farewell to no one, and no one was there\nwhen he thus departed.\n\nSo for a long while Sir Launcelot rode he knew not whither, but after a\nwhile he found himself in the forest not far away from the cell of the\nhermit of the forest. And he beheld the hermit of the forest, that he\nstood in an open plat of grass in front of his cell and that he was\nfeeding the wild birds of the woodland; for the little feathered\ncreatures were gathered in great multitudes about him, some resting upon\nhis head and some upon his shoulders and some upon his hands. And a wild\ndoe and a fawn of the forest browsed near by and all was full of peace\nand good content.\n\nBut at the coming of Sir Launcelot, all those wild creatures took alarm;\nthe birds they flew chirping away, and the doe and the fawn they fled\naway into the thickets of the forest. For they wist, by some instinct,\nthat a man of sin and sorrow was coming thitherward; wherefore they were\nafeared and fled away in that wise.\n\nBut Sir Launcelot thought nothing of this, but leaped from his horse,\nand ran to the hermit and flung himself down upon the ground before him\nand embraced him about the feet. And the hermit was greatly astonished\nand said, \"What ails thee, Sir Launcelot?\" Whereunto Sir Launcelot cried\nout: \"Woe is me! Woe is me! I have sinned very grievously and have been\ngrievously punished and now my heart is broken!\"\n\nThen the hermit perceived that some great misfortune had befallen Sir\nLauncelot, wherefore he lifted Sir Launcelot to his feet and after that\nhe brought him into his cell. And after they were in the cell together,\nhe said: \"Now tell me what ails thee, Sir Launcelot. For I believe that\nin telling me thou shalt find a great deal of ease.\"\n\nSo Sir Launcelot confessed everything to the hermit--yea, everything to\nthe very bottom of his soul, and the good, holy man hearkened to him.\n\nThen after Sir Launcelot had said all that lay upon his heart, the\nhermit sat for a while in silence, communing with his spirit. And after\na while he said: \"Messire, God telleth me that if thy sin hath been\ngrievous, so also hath thy punishment been full sore. Wherefore\nmeseemeth I speak what God would have me say when I tell thee that\nthough neither thou nor any man may undo that which is done, nor\nrecommit that which is committed, yet there is this which thou or any\nman mayest do. Thou mayst bathe thy soul in repentance as in a bath of\nclear water (for repentance is not remorse but something very different\nfrom remorse), and that having so bathed thyself thou mayst clothe\nthyself as in a fresh raiment of new resolve. So bathed and so clad,\nthou mayst stand once more upon thy feet and mayst look up to God and\nsay: 'Lo, God! I am Thy handiwork. I have sinned and have done great\nevil, yet I am still Thy handiwork, who hath made me what I am. So,\nthough I may not undo that which I have done, yet I may, with Thy aid,\ndo better hereafter than I have done heretofore.'\n\n\"For every man may sin, and yet again may sin; yet still is he God's\nhandiwork, and still God is near by His handiwork to aid him ever to a\nfresh endeavor to righteousness.\n\n\"So, though thou hast sinned, thou art still the creation of God and may\nyet do His will in the world who hath sent thee hither.\"\n\nThen Sir Launcelot wept, and he said, \"There is much comfort in thy\nwords.\"\n\nAfter that he abode for three days in the cell of the hermit and at the\nend of that time he went forth again into the world, a broken yet a\ncontrite man, and one full of a strong resolve to make good the life\nthat God thenceforth intended him to live.\n\nSo by and by you shall hear of further adventures that befell him; yet\nnot at this place.\n\nSo it was with Sir Launcelot, and now it only remaineth to be said that,\nafter his departure from the King's court as aforesaid, they brought the\ndead figure of the Lady Elaine to the minster at Camelot and there high\nmass was said for the peace of her pure and gentle soul. So for two days\n(what time Sir Launcelot was bathing himself in the waters of repentance\nas aforetold) that figure lay in state in the minster and with many\ncandles burning about it, and then it was buried in the minster and a\nmonument of marble was erected to the memory of that kind and loving\nspirit that had gone.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSo endeth the history of the Nativity of Galahad and so therewith this\nbook also cometh to an end.\n\nYet after a while, if God giveth me life to finish that work which I\nhave undertaken in writing these histories (and I pray He may give me to\nfinish that and several other things), then I shall tell you many things\nmore than these. For I shall tell you how Sir Launcelot came back again\ninto the world, and I shall tell you of the history of the Quest of the\nGrail, and I shall tell you of other knights who came in later days to\nmake the court of King Arthur even more glorious than it was before.\n\nAlready two histories have been written concerning these things and this\nmakes the third, and another, I believe, will complete that work which I\nhave assigned myself to do; wherefore, as was said, I pray that God may\ngrant that I shall be able to finish that fourth book and so end my work\nthat I have here undertaken. Amen.\n\nTHE END\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTranscriber's Notes:\n\nPunctuation has been standardised.\n\nSpelling inconsistencies occur throughout this text.\n\nPage 11, \"Befel\" changed to \"Befell\" (What Befell him)\n\nPage 32, \"ne'ertheless\" changed to \"ne'theless\" (ne'theless, I cannot\nfind)\n\nPage 36, \"shie d\" changed to \"shield\" (bare that shield.)\n\nPage 78, \"Lynnette\" changed to \"Lynette\" (Lynette telleth Sir)\n\nPage 84, \"Grandregarde\" changed to \"Grandregard\" (hight Granderegard)\n\nPage 98, \"Axaltalese\" changed to \"Axatalese\" (Gringamore said to\nAxatalese)\n\nPage 98, \"Layonesse\" changed to \"Layonnesse\" (Layonnesse and the damsel)\n\nPage 99, \"Layonesse\" changed to \"Layonnesse\" (my sister, the Lady\nLayonnesse)\n\nPage 101, \"the\" changed to \"then\" (even then upon her way)\n\nPage 102, \"Geharis\" changed to \"Gaheris\" (Sir Gaheris wondered)\n\nPage 139, \"Palamedes\" changed to \"Palamydes\" (meeting Sir Palamydes)\n\nPage 151, \"thust\" changed to \"thrust\" (thrust into her bosom)\n\nPage 153, \"Chavelier\" changed to \"Chevalier\" (in which le Chevalier)\n\nPage 176, \"Adred\" changed to \"adread\" (The lady is adread)\n\nPage 181, \"than\" changed to \"that\" (that the other was)\n\nPage 195, \"knowst\" changed to \"knowest\" (How knowest thou)\n\nPage 214, \"travered\" changed to \"traversed\" (had traversed various)\n\nPage 275, \"Percivant\" changed to \"Percevant\" (captive was Sir Percevant)\n\nPage 282, \"Le\" changed to \"le\" (hight, le Chevalier)\n\nPage 297, \"Ne'ertheless\" changed to \"Ne'theless\" (Ne'theless, now that)","title":"The Story of Sir Launcelot and His Companions","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":135196}