{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_36462/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_36462","id":"gutenberg_36462","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/36462","summary":null,"tags":["Arthurian Legends","Arthurian romances","Category: Adventure","Category: British Literature","Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Romance"],"text":"</pre>\n\n\n\nProduced by Peter Vachuska, Dave Morgan, Mary Meehan and\nthe Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttps://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                                 KING ARTHUR\n\n                     _and the Knights of the Round Table_\n\n                          EDITED BY RUPERT S. HOLLAND\n\n\n    GROSSET & DUNLAP\n\n    _Publishers_      NEW YORK\n\n    _Copyright, 1919, by\n    George W. Jacobs & Company_\n\n    _Printed in the United States of America_\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: \"This girdle, lords,\" said she, \"is made for the most\npart of mine own hair, which, while I was yet in the world, I loved full\nwell.\"]\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nKing Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table! What magic is in the\nwords! How they carry us straight to the days of chivalry, to the\nwitchcraft of Merlin, to the wonderful deeds of Lancelot and Perceval\nand Galahad, to the Quest for the Holy Grail, to all that \"glorious\ncompany, the flower of men,\" as Tennyson has called the king and his\ncompanions! Down through the ages the stories have come to us, one of\nthe few great romances which, like the tales of Homer, are as fresh and\nvivid to-day as when men first recited them in court and camp and\ncottage. Other great kings and paladins are lost in the dim shadows of\nlong-past centuries, but Arthur still reigns in Camelot and his knights\nstill ride forth to seek the Grail.\n\n                        \"No little thing shall be\n\n    The gentle music of the bygone years,\n    Long past to us with all their hopes and fears.\"\n\nSo wrote the poet William Morris in _The Earthly Paradise_. And surely\nit is no small debt of gratitude we owe the troubadours and chroniclers\nand poets who through many centuries have sung of Arthur and his\nchampions, each adding to the song the gifts of his own imagination, so\nbuilding from simple folk-tales one of the most magnificent and moving\nstories in all literature.\n\nThis debt perhaps we owe in greatest measure to three men; to Chretien\nde Troies, a Frenchman, who in the twelfth century put many of the old\nArthurian legends into verse; to Sir Thomas Malory, who first wrote out\nmost of the stories in English prose, and whose book, the _Morte\nDarthur_, was printed by William Caxton, the first English printer, in\n1485; and to Alfred, Lord Tennyson, who in his series of poems entitled\nthe _Idylls of the King_ retold the legends in new and beautiful guise\nin the nineteenth century.\n\nThe history of Arthur is so shrouded in the mists of early England that\nit is difficult to tell exactly who and what he was. There probably was\nan actual Arthur, who lived in the island of Britain in the sixth\ncentury, but probably he was not a king nor even a prince. It seems most\nlikely that he was a chieftain who led his countrymen to victory against\nthe invading English about the year 500. So proud were his countrymen of\nhis victories that they began to invent imaginary stories of his prowess\nto add to the fame of their hero, just as among all peoples legends soon\nspring up about the name of a great leader. As each man told the feats\nof Arthur he contributed those details that appealed most to his own\nfancy and each was apt to think of the hero as a man of his own time,\ndressing and speaking and living as his own kings and princes did, with\nthe result that when we come to the twelfth century we find Geoffrey of\nMonmouth, in his _History of the Kings of Britain_, describing Arthur\nno longer as a half-barbarous Briton, wearing rude armor, his arms and\nlegs bare, but instead as a most Christian king, the flower of mediaeval\nchivalry, decked out in all the gorgeous trappings of a knight of the\nCrusades.\n\nAs the story of Arthur grew it attracted to itself popular legends of\nall kinds. Its roots were in Britain and the chief threads in its fabric\nremained British-Celtic. The next most important threads were those that\nwere added by the Celtic chroniclers of Ireland. Then stories that were\nnot Celtic at all were woven into the legend, some from Germanic\nsources, which the Saxons or the descendants of the Franks may have\ncontributed, and others that came from the Orient, which may have been\nbrought back from the East by men returning from the Crusades. And if it\nwas the Celts who gave us the most of the material for the stories of\nArthur it was the French poets who first wrote out the stories and gave\nthem enduring form.\n\nIt was the Frenchman, Chretien de Troies, who lived at the courts of\nChampagne and of Flanders, who put the old legends into verse for the\npleasure of the noble lords and ladies that were his patrons. He\ncomposed six Arthurian poems. The first, which was written about 1160 or\nearlier, related the story of Tristram. The next was called _Erec et\nEnide_, and told some of the adventures that were later used by Tennyson\nin his _Geraint and Enid_. The third was _Cliges_, a poem that has\nlittle to do with the stories of Arthur and his knights as we have\nthem. Next came the _Conte de la Charrette_, or _Le Chevalier de la\nCharrette_, which set forth the love of Lancelot and Guinevere. Then\nfollowed _Yvain_, or _Le Chevalier au Lion_, and finally came\n_Perceval_, or _Le Conte du Graal_, which gives the first account of the\nHoly Grail.\n\nNone of these stories are to be found in the work of Geoffrey of\nMonmouth, who had written earlier in Latin, nor in any of the so-called\nchronicles. It was Chretien who took the old folk-tales that men had\nbeen telling each other for centuries and put them into sprightly verse\nfor the entertainment of his lords and ladies. He fashioned the stories\naccording to the taste of his own gay courts, and so Arthur and his\nQueen Guinevere, Lancelot, Perceval and the other knights became far\nmore like French people of the twelfth century than like Britons of the\nsixth. And in introducing the Holy Grail, that sacred and mystic cup\nthat was supposed to hold drops of the blood of Christ and to have been\ncarried to England by Joseph of Arimathea, Chretien added to the\nArthurian legends an old religious story that had had nothing to do with\nArthur originally.\n\nFrom this point in its history that sturdy ancient English oak, the\noriginal story of Arthur and his knights, an account mainly of warlike\nadventures, sent forth four new branches that have now become part and\nparcel of the parent legend. These four branches are the story of\nMerlin, the story of Lancelot, the story of the Holy Grail, and the\nstory of Tristram and Iseult. Some of the writers who came after\nChretien took one of these stories, some another, each enlarging his\ntheme according to his own taste, until each story was the center of a\nlarge number of new and romantic offshoots. Practically all of them,\nhowever, were bound together by the thread that led from the court of\nthe great King Arthur at Camelot.\n\nThe story of Merlin, that man of magic, is the least important of the\nfour branches, though Merlin is still an intensely interesting figure in\nthe story of Arthur that we read to-day. The story of Lancelot was to\nprove very important; starting as a romance that had very little\nconnection with Arthur, it became with Malory and Tennyson the real\ncenter of interest of the plot. The story of the Holy Grail proved\nalmost equally important. In the earliest accounts of this Perceval was\nthe knight chosen above all others to reach the Grail Castle, but\nPerceval was too rough and worldly a knight to suit the taste of the\nmonks who wrote out the legends and so they created Galahad to take his\nplace as their own ideal of perfection. And into these adventures are\nwoven some of the tales of Sir Gawain, among them the delightful story\nof Gawain and the Little Maid with the Narrow Sleeves. To the legend of\nPerceval, Wolfram von Eschenbach, a Bavarian, added the story of the son\nof Perceval, or Parzival, as he calls him, the story of Lohengrin, the\nfamous Swan-knight. Tristram and Iseult, the fourth of the branches,\nthough less connected with Arthur than either Lancelot or the Holy\nGrail, became immensely popular with poets and remancers because of its\ngreat love story, and is to be found told again and again in widely\nvarying forms all through the Middle Ages.\n\nSo we have seen that a British chieftain, winning a great battle in the\nyear 500, became in time celebrated throughout Europe as the greatest\nking of romance. So far it was mainly the French who had made him\nfamous. Layamon, an English priest, had written a poem in English\nconcerning Arthur shortly after 1200, and told of the founding of the\nRound Table, but it was to be a considerable time yet before any English\nwriter was to attempt what the French had already done. Chaucer told\nnone of the Arthurian stories, though he placed the scene of his _Wife\nof Bath's Tale_ at King Arthur's court. An unknown English poet wrote\n_Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight_ somewhere between 1350 and 1375. It\nis not until we come to the _Morte Darthur_ of Sir Thomas Malory,\nfinished in 1469 or 1470, that we reach the next great step in the\nhistory of the legends since the time of Chretien de Troies. But in\nMalory's story Arthur steps forth resplendent, the kingly figure that we\nhave to-day.\n\nLittle is known concerning Sir Thomas Malory. He seems to have been a\nknight and country gentleman of Warwickshire, a member of Parliament in\nthe reign of Henry VI, and later a soldier on the side of Lancaster in\nthe Wars of the Roses. As a result of the victory of the party of York\nhe had to retire from public life when Edward IV came to the throne, and\nlived quietly at his Warwickshire estate. He was familiar with life at\ncourt and with men-at-arms and he knew how popular the stories of King\nArthur were becoming in England. So, being a man of education, he set to\nwork to make a collection of the legends, using as his chief sources the\nFrench romances.\n\nMalory showed considerable originality in carrying out his plan. He made\nArthur the central figure, taking the story of Merlin as an introduction\nto the birth of Arthur, instead of as a separate legend, and ending his\naccount soon after the death of the king. He omitted a number of the\nolder legends that had little to do with Arthur, many of them good\nstories, such as that of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. He made the\nEngland of his Arthur something like the England he knew, and his people\nbecame real and living instead of fanciful figures out of a far-distant\npast. His descriptions are vivid and lively and his style so engaging\nthat his work of the fifteenth century is much read to-day. Three\ncharacters stand out from all the rest, Arthur, Lancelot, and Guinevere,\nand these three became in all stories and poems subsequent to Malory's\ntime the main figures of the legends.\n\nMatthew Arnold attributed to Homer three great epic traits, swiftness,\nsimplicity, and nobility. It is these three characteristics that have\nmade the _Morte Darthur_ so deservedly famous.\n\nWith the printing of Malory's book by the first English printer, William\nCaxton, in 1485, we come to the end of the Middle Ages in literature.\nManuscripts written out laboriously by monks and clerks were now to\ngive way to the printed page. The age of Elizabeth was less than a\ncentury away, one of the golden ages of the poets. Yet few of the\nElizabethans touched on the story of Arthur. The main exception was\nEdmund Spenser, who made Prince Arthur the hero of his great poem _The\nFaerie Queene_, but Spenser's Arthur and his knights and ladies have\nlittle in common with the figures in the old romances.\n\nThe succeeding centuries, great as they were in English writers of\ngenius, paid little attention to Arthur. Milton and Dryden made little\nuse of the legends. Stories of ancient chivalry lost their vogue, novels\nwere becoming popular and the poets chose themes closer to their own\ntimes and point of view. Not until the nineteenth century did Arthur\ncome into his own again. Then the Victorian poets turned to him for\ninspiration. William Morris wrote _The Defence of Guenevere_, and a host\nof lesser poets tried their hands on similar themes. Swinburne told the\nstory of _Tristram of Lyonesse_ and the _Tale of Balen_, and James\nRussell Lowell composed his beautiful poem _The Vision of Sir Launfal_.\nMatthew Arnold wrote _Tristram and Iseult_. In 1850 Richard Wagner, the\ngreat German composer, produced his opera _Lohengrin_, and followed it\nwith _Tristan und Isolde_ and _Parsifal_. These tell the old stories in\nsomewhat new form, and follow the early French romances rather than\nMalory.\n\nBut the true descendant of Chretien de Troies and Malory was Alfred\nTennyson. The great work of this poet's life was his _Idylls of the\nKing_, one of the finest achievements of English literature. He owed his\ninspiration chiefly to Malory. \"The vision of Arthur as I have drawn\nhim,\" Tennyson said to his son, \"had come upon me when, little more than\na boy, I first lighted upon Malory.\" He covered almost the entire field\nof the legends. The _Idylls of the King_ are _The Coming of Arthur_,\n_Geraint and Enid_, _Merlin and Vivien_, _Lancelot and Elaine_, _The\nHoly Grail_, _Pelleas and Ettarre_, _Balin and Balan_, _The Last\nTournament_, _Guinevere_, and _The Passing of Arthur_.\n\nTennyson gives to the stories far more allegory, far more philosophy\nthan the early poets gave them. His age was interested in philosophy and\nso, as was the case with each of the earlier poets, Tennyson handled the\nlegends after the fashion of his own times. In his pages we see the\ncharacters as actual men and women, subtly drawn, concerned with right\nand wrong far more than with mere knightly adventures. Arthur and\nLancelot and Guinevere hold the center of the stage, and it is the fate\nof these three that provides the great moving motive of the poems.\n\nTo Tennyson we owe the most nearly perfect version of the story that\ndates back to a dim and legendary England. What verse more beautiful\nthan his to tell of chivalry?\n\n    \"Then, in the boyhood of the year,\n    Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere\n    Rode thro' the coverts of the deer,\n    With blissful treble ringing clear.\n      She seem'd a part of joyous Spring:\n    A gown of grass-green silk she wore,\n    Buckled with golden clasps before;\n    A light-green tuft of plumes she bore\n      Closed in a golden ring.\"\n\nIn beauty and dignity and human interest Tennyson gives us the great\nworld of Arthurian legend in its most perfect form.\n\nMalory's _Morte Darthur_ was not Tennyson's only source for the stories\nof his Idylls. The adventures of Geraint he took from the _Mabinogion_,\na collection of mediaeval Welsh tales translated with great charm and\naccuracy by Lady Charlotte Guest, and published in 1838. Also, though to\na very limited extent, he drew some of his incidents from the history of\nGeoffrey of Monmouth and the other early writers of chronicles.\n\nThe great panorama of stories that we group together under the title of\n_King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table_, when they are told in\nprose, are usually taken from Malory's book, the _Morte Darthur_,\ncondensed in size, for Malory was frequently verbose, and related in\nmore modern English. In this volume we have used as a basis the version\nprepared by Sir James Knowles, which is an abridgment of Malory's work\nas it was printed by Caxton, with a few additions from Geoffrey of\nMonmouth and other sources. To this we have added the story of Sir\nGawain and the Maid with the Narrow Sleeves, which comes originally from\nthe poem of _Perceval_ by Chretien de Troies.\n\nThe stories seem naturally to group themselves into four divisions, The\nComing of Arthur and the Founding of the Round Table, The Adventures of\nthe Champions of the Round Table, Sir Galahad and the Quest of the Holy\nGrail, and The Passing of Arthur. Into these come all the great\ncharacters of the legends and all the surpassing adventures of the king\nand his knights.\n\nThe story of how a half-barbarous British Chieftain became the greatest\nking of mediaeval chivalry is a romance in itself. To him poets and\nchroniclers of all lands added one valorous knight after another, one\namazing adventure on top of another, until the result was the greatest\ncollection of legends that have gathered about any king in history. The\nstory of the origin and growth of these world-famous legends is told in\na most delightful book, _The Arthur of the English Poets_, by Howard\nMaynadier, and those who wish to get the historical background of King\nArthur should turn to its pages.\n\nThose who love brave and knightly deeds, those who love the gorgeous\ntrappings of mediaeval romance, come to the story of Arthur and his Round\nTable, of Lancelot and Perceval and Galahad and Gawain, of Guinevere and\nElaine, and of the Quest for the Holy Grail, and there shall be found\nthe glories that you seek. The king and his knights ride out from\nCamelot. Here shall you join them on their great adventures!\n\nRUPERT S. HOLLAND.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nTHE COMING OF ARTHUR AND THE FOUNDING OF THE ROUND TABLE\n\nI MERLIN FORETELLS THE BIRTH OF ARTHUR\n\nII THE CROWNING OF ARTHUR AND THE SWORD EXCALIBUR\n\nIII ARTHUR DRIVES THE SAXONS FROM HIS REALM\n\nIV THE KING'S MANY AND GREAT ADVENTURES\n\nV SIR BALIN FIGHTS WITH HIS BROTHER, SIR BALAN\n\nVI THE MARRIAGE OF ARTHUR AND GUINEVERE AND THE FOUNDING OF THE ROUND\nTABLE\n\nVII THE ADVENTURE OF ARTHUR AND SIR ACCOLON OF GAUL\n\nVIII ARTHUR IS CROWNED EMPEROR AT ROME\n\nIX SIR GAWAIN AND THE MAID WITH THE NARROW SLEEVES\n\n\nTHE CHAMPIONS OF THE ROUND TABLE\n\nX THE ADVENTURES OF SIR LANCELOT\n\nXI THE ADVENTURES OF SIR BEAUMAINS OR SIR GARETH\n\nXII THE ADVENTURES OF SIR TRISTRAM\n\n\nSIR GALAHAD AND THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL\n\nXIII THE KNIGHTS GO TO SEEK THE GRAIL\n\n\nTHE PASSING OF ARTHUR\n\nXIV SIR LANCELOT AND THE FAIR ELAINE\n\nXV THE WAR BETWEEN ARTHUR AND LANCELOT AND THE PASSING OF ARTHUR\n\n\n\n\nKING ARTHUR AND THE KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE\n\n\n\n\nTHE COMING OF ARTHUR AND THE FOUNDING OF THE ROUND TABLE\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nMERLIN FORETELLS THE BIRTH OF ARTHUR\n\n\nKing Vortigern the usurper sat upon his throne in London, when,\nsuddenly, upon a certain day, ran in a breathless messenger, and cried\naloud--\n\n\"Arise, Lord King, for the enemy is come; even Ambrosius and Uther, upon\nwhose throne thou sittest--and full twenty thousand with them--and they\nhave sworn by a great oath, Lord, to slay thee, ere this year be done;\nand even now they march towards thee as the north wind of winter for\nbitterness and haste.\"\n\nAt those words Vortigern's face grew white as ashes, and, rising in\nconfusion and disorder, he sent for all the best artificers and\ncraftsmen and mechanics, and commanded them vehemently to go and build\nhim straightway in the furthest west of his lands a great and strong\ncastle, where he might fly for refuge and escape the vengeance of his\nmaster's sons--\"and, moreover,\" cried he, \"let the work be done within a\nhundred days from now, or I will surely spare no life amongst you all.\"\n\nThen all the host of craftsmen, fearing for their lives, found out a\nproper site whereon to build the tower, and eagerly began to lay in the\nfoundations. But no sooner were the walls raised up above the ground\nthan all their work was overwhelmed and broken down by night invisibly,\nno man perceiving how, or by whom, or what. And the same thing happening\nagain, and yet again, all the workmen, full of terror, sought out the\nking, and threw themselves upon their faces before him, beseeching him\nto interfere and help them or to deliver them from their dreadful work.\n\nFilled with mixed rage and fear, the king called for the astrologers and\nwizards, and took counsel with them what these things might be, and how\nto overcome them. The wizards worked their spells and incantations, and\nin the end declared that nothing but the blood of a youth born without\nmortal father, smeared on the foundations of the castle, could avail to\nmake it stand. Messengers were therefore sent forthwith through all the\nland to find, if it were possible, such a child. And, as some of them\nwent down a certain village street, they saw a band of lads fighting and\nquarreling, and heard them shout at one--\"Avaunt, thou imp!--avaunt! Son\nof no mortal man! go, find thy father, and leave us in peace.\"\n\nAt that the messengers looked steadfastly on the lad, and asked who he\nwas. One said his name was Merlin; another, that his birth and parentage\nwere known by no man; a third, that the foul fiend alone was his father.\nHearing the things, the officers seized Merlin, and carried him before\nthe king by force.\n\nBut no sooner was he brought to him than he asked in a loud voice, for\nwhat cause he was thus dragged there?\n\n\"My magicians,\" answered Vortigern, \"told me to seek out a man that had\nno human father, and to sprinkle my castle with his blood, that it may\nstand.\"\n\n\"Order those magicians,\" said Merlin, \"to come before me, and I will\nconvict them of a lie.\"\n\nThe king was astonished at his words, but commanded the magicians to\ncome and sit down before Merlin, who cried to them--\n\n\"Because ye know not what it is that hinders the foundation of the\ncastle, ye have advised my blood for a cement to it, as if that would\navail; but tell me now rather what there is below that ground, for\nsomething there is surely underneath that will not suffer the tower to\nstand?\"\n\nThe wizards at these words began to fear, and made no answer. Then said\nMerlin to the king--\n\n\"I pray, Lord, that workmen may be ordered to dig deep down into the\nground till they shall come to a great pool of water.\"\n\nThis then was done, and the pool discovered far beneath the surface of\nthe ground.\n\nThen, turning again to the magicians, Merlin said, \"Tell me now, false\nsycophants, what there is underneath that pool?\"--but they were silent.\nThen said he to the king, \"Command this pool to be drained, and at the\nbottom shall be found two dragons, great and huge, which now are\nsleeping, but which at night awake and fight and tear each other. At\ntheir great struggle all the ground shakes and trembles, and so casts\ndown thy towers, which, therefore, never yet could find secure\nfoundations.\"\n\nThe king was amazed at these words, but commanded the pool to be\nforthwith drained; and surely at the bottom of it did they presently\ndiscover the two dragons, fast asleep, as Merlin had declared.\n\nBut Vortigern sat upon the brink of the pool till night to see what else\nwould happen.\n\nThen those two dragons, one of which was white, the other red, rose up\nand came near one another, and began a sore fight, and cast forth fire\nwith their breath. But the white dragon had the advantage, and chased\nthe other to the end of the lake. And he, for grief at his flight,\nturned back upon his foe, and renewed the combat, and forced him to\nretire in turn. But in the end the red dragon was worsted, and the white\ndragon disappeared no man knew where.\n\nWhen their battle was done, the king desired Merlin to tell him what it\nmeant. Whereat he, bursting into tears, cried out this prophecy, which\nfirst foretold the coming of King Arthur.\n\n\"Woe to the red dragon, which figureth the British nation, for his\nbanishment cometh quickly; his lurking-holes shall be seized by the\nwhite dragon--the Saxon whom thou, O king, hast called to the land. The\nmountains shall be leveled as the valleys, and the rivers of the valleys\nshall run blood; cities shall be burned, and churches laid in ruins;\ntill at length the oppressed shall turn for a season and prevail against\nthe strangers. For a Boar of Cornwall shall arise and rend them, and\ntrample their necks beneath his feet. The island shall be subject to his\npower, and he shall take the forests of Gaul. The house of Romulus shall\ndread him--all the world shall fear him--and his end shall no man know;\nhe shall be immortal in the mouths of the people, and his works shall be\nfood to those that tell them.\n\n\"But as for thee, O Vortigern, flee thou the sons of Constantine, for\nthey shall burn thee in thy tower. For thine own ruin wast thou traitor\nto their father, and didst bring the Saxon heathens to the land.\nAurelius and Uther are even now upon thee to revenge their father's\nmurder; and the brood of the white dragon shall waste thy country, and\nshall lick thy blood. Find out some refuge, if thou wilt! but who may\nescape the doom of God?\"\n\nThe king heard all this, trembling greatly; and, convicted of his sins,\nsaid nothing in reply. Only he hasted the builders of his tower by day\nand night, and rested not till he had fled thereto.\n\nIn the meantime, Aurelius, the rightful king, was hailed with joy by the\nBritons, who flocked to his standard, and prayed to be led against the\nSaxons. But he, till he had first killed Vortigern, would begin no other\nwar. He marched therefore to Cambria, and came before the tower which\nthe usurper had built. Then, crying out to all his knights, \"Avenge ye\non him who hath ruined Britain and slain my father and your king!\" he\nrushed with many thousands at the castle walls. But, being driven back\nagain and yet again, at length he thought of fire, and ordered blazing\nbrands to be cast into the building from all sides. These, finding soon\na proper fuel, ceased not to rage till, spreading to a mighty\nconflagration, they burned down the tower, and Vortigern within it.\n\nThen did Aurelius turn his strength against Hengist and the Saxons, and,\ndefeating them in many places, weakened their power for a long season,\nso that the land had peace.\n\nAnon the king, making journeys to and fro, restoring ruined churches\nand, creating order, came to the monastery near Salisbury, where all\nthose British knights lay buried who had been slain there by the\ntreachery of Hengist. For when in former times Hengist had made a solemn\ntruce with Vortigern, to meet in peace and settle terms, whereby himself\nand all his Saxons should depart from Britain, the Saxon soldiers\ncarried every one of them beneath his garment a long dagger, and, at a\ngiven signal, fell upon the Britons, and slew them, to the number of\nnearly five hundred.\n\nThe sight of the place where the dead lay moved Aurelius to great\nsorrow, and he cast about in his mind how to make a worthy tomb over so\nmany noble martyrs, who had died there for their country.\n\nWhen he had in vain consulted many craftsmen and builders, he sent, by\nthe advice of the archbishop, for Merlin, and asked him what to do. \"If\nyou would honor the burying-place of these men,\" said Merlin, \"with an\neverlasting monument, send for the Giants' Dance which is in Killaraus,\na mountain; in Ireland; for there is a structure of stone there which\nnone of this age could raise without a perfect knowledge of the arts.\nThey are stones of a vast size and wondrous nature, and if they can be\nplaced here as they are there, round this spot of ground, they will\nstand for ever.\"\n\nAt these words of Merlin, Aurelius burst into laughter, and said, \"How\nis it possible to remove such vast stones from so great a distance, as\nif Britain, also, had no stones fit for the work?\"\n\n\"I pray the king,\" said Merlin, \"to forbear vain laughter; what I have\nsaid is true, for those stones are mystical and have healing virtues.\nThe giants of old brought them from the furthest coast of Africa, and\nplaced them in Ireland while they lived in that country: and their\ndesign was to make baths in them, for use in time of grievous illness.\nFor if they washed the stones and put the sick into the water, it\ncertainly healed them, as also it did them that were wounded in battle;\nand there is no stone among them but hath the same virtue still.\"\n\nWhen the Britons heard this, they resolved to send for the stones, and\nto make war upon the people of Ireland if they offered to withhold them.\nSo, when they had chosen Uther the king's brother for their chief, they\nset sail, to the number of 15,000 men, and came to Ireland. There\nGillomanius, the king, withstood them fiercely, and not till after a\ngreat battle could they approach the Giants' Dance, the sight of which\nfilled them with joy and admiration. But when they sought to move the\nstones, the strength of all the army was in vain, until Merlin,\nlaughing at their failures, contrived machines of wondrous cunning,\nwhich took them down with ease, and placed them in the ships.\n\nWhen they had brought the whole to Salisbury, Aurelius, with the crown\nupon his head, kept for four days the feast of Pentecost with royal\npomp; and in the midst of all the clergy and the people, Merlin raised\nup the stones, and set them round the sepulcher of the knights and\nbarons, as they stood in the mountains of Ireland.\n\nThen was the monument called \"Stonehenge,\" and stands, as all men know,\nupon the plain of Salisbury to this very day.\n\nSoon thereafter it befell that Aurelius was slain by poison at\nWinchester, and was himself buried within the Giants' Dance.\n\nAt the same time came forth a comet of amazing size and brightness,\ndarting out a beam, at the end whereof was a cloud of fire shaped like a\ndragon, from whose mouth went out two rays, one stretching over Gaul,\nthe other ending in seven lesser rays over the Irish sea.\n\nAt the appearance of this star a great dread fell upon the people, and\nUther, marching into Cambria against the son of Vortigern, himself was\nvery troubled to learn what it might mean. Then Merlin, being called\nbefore him, cried with a loud voice: \"O mighty loss! O stricken Britain!\nAlas! the great prince is gone from us. Aurelius Ambrosius is dead,\nwhose death will be ours also, unless God help us. Haste, therefore,\nnoble Uther, to destroy the enemy; the victory shall be thine, and thou\nshalt be king of all Britain. For the star with the fiery dragon\nsignifies thyself; and the ray over Gaul portends that thou shalt have a\nson, most mighty, whom all those kingdoms shall obey which the ray\ncovers.\"\n\nThus, for the second time, did Merlin foretell the coming of King\nArthur. And Uther, when he was made king, remembered Merlin's words, and\ncaused two dragons to be made in gold, in likeness of the dragon he had\nseen in the star. One of these he gave to Winchester Cathedral, and had\nthe other carried into all his wars before him, whence he was ever after\ncalled Uther Pendragon, or the dragon's head.\n\nNow, when Uther Pendragon had passed through all the land, and settled\nit--and even voyaged into all the countries of the Scots, and tamed the\nfierceness of that rebel people--he came to London, and ministered\njustice there. And it befell at a certain great banquet and high feast\nwhich the king made at Easter-tide, there came, with many other earls\nand barons, Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall, and his wife Igerna, who was the\nmost famous beauty in all Britain. And soon thereafter, Gorlois being\nslain in battle, Uther determined to make Igerna his own wife. But in\norder to do this, and enable him to come to her--for she was shut up in\nthe high castle of Tintagil, on the furthest coast of Cornwall--the king\nsent for Merlin, to take counsel with him and to pray his help. This,\ntherefore, Merlin promised him on one condition--namely, that the king\nshould give him up the first son born of the marriage. For Merlin by\nhis art foreknew that this firstborn should be the long-wished prince,\nKing Arthur.\n\nWhen Uther, therefore, was at length happily wedded, Merlin came to the\ncastle on a certain day, and said, \"Sir, thou must now provide thee for\nthe nourishing of thy child.\"\n\nAnd the king, nothing doubting, said, \"Be it as thou wilt.\"\n\n\"I know a lord of thine in this land,\" said Merlin, \"who is a man both\ntrue and faithful; let him have the nourishing of the child. His name is\nSir Ector, and he hath fair possessions both in England and in Wales.\nWhen, therefore, the child is born, let him be delivered unto me,\nunchristened, at yonder postern-gate, and I will bestow him in the care\nof this good knight.\"\n\nSo when the child was born, the king bid two knights and two ladies to\ntake it, bound in rich cloth of gold, and deliver it to a poor man whom\nthey should discover at the postern-gate. And the child being delivered\nthus to Merlin, who himself took the guise of a poor man, was carried by\nhim to a holy priest and christened by the name of Arthur, and then was\ntaken to Sir Ector's house, and nourished at Sir Ector's wife's own\nbreasts. And in the same house he remained privily for many years, no\nman soever knowing where he was, save Merlin and the king.\n\nAnon it befell that the king was seized by a lingering distemper, and\nthe Saxon heathens, taking their occasion, came back from over sea, and\nswarmed upon the land, wasting it with fire and sword. When Uther heard\nthereof, he fell into a greater rage than his weakness could bear, and\ncommanded all his nobles to come before him, that he might upbraid them\nfor their cowardice. And when he had sharply and hotly rebuked them, he\nswore that he himself, nigh unto death although he lay, would lead them\nforth against the enemy. Then causing a horse-litter to be made, in\nwhich he might be carried--for he was too faint and weak to ride--he\nwent up with all his army swiftly against the Saxons.\n\nBut they, when they heard that Uther was coming in a litter, disdained\nto fight him, saying it would be shame for brave men to fight with one\nhalf dead. So they retired into their city; and, as it were in scorn of\ndanger, left the gates wide open. But Uther straightway commanding his\nmen to assault the town, they did so without loss of time, and had\nalready reached the gates, when the Saxons, repenting too late of their\nhaughty pride, rushed forth to the defense. The battle raged till night,\nand was begun again next day; but at last, their leaders, Octa and Eosa,\nbeing slain, the Saxons turned their backs and fled, leaving the Britons\na full triumph.\n\nThe king at this felt so great joy, that, whereas before he could scarce\nraise himself without help, he now sat upright in his litter by himself,\nand said, with a laughing and merry face, \"They called me the half-dead\nking, and so indeed I was; but victory to me half dead is better than\ndefeat and the best health. For to die with honor is far better than to\nlive disgraced.\"\n\nBut the Saxons, although thus defeated, were ready still for war. Uther\nwould have pursued them; but his illness had by now so grown, that his\nknights and barons kept him from the adventure. Whereat the enemy took\ncourage, and left nothing undone to destroy the land; until, descending\nto the vilest treachery, they resolved to kill the king by poison.\n\nTo this end, as he lay sick at Verulum, they sent and poisoned\nstealthily a spring of clear water, whence he was wont to drink daily;\nand so, on the very next day, he was taken with the pains of death, as\nwere also a hundred others after him, before the villainy was\ndiscovered, and heaps of earth thrown over the well.\n\nThe knights and barons, full of sorrow, now took counsel together, and\ncame to Merlin for his help to learn the king's will before he died, for\nhe was by this time speechless. \"Sirs, there is no remedy,\" said Merlin,\n\"and God's will must be done; but be ye all to-morrow before him, for\nGod will make him speak before he die.\"\n\nSo on the morrow all the barons, with Merlin, stood round the bedside of\nthe king; and Merlin said aloud to Uther, \"Lord, shall thy son Arthur be\nthe king of all this realm after thy days?\"\n\nThen Uther Pendragon turned him about, and said, in the hearing of them\nall, \"God's blessing and mine be upon him. I bid him pray for my soul,\nand also that he claim my crown, or forfeit all my blessing;\" and with\nthose words he died.\n\nThen came together all the bishops and the clergy, and great multitudes\nof people, and bewailed the king; and carrying his body to the convent\nof Ambrius, they buried it close by his brother's grave, within the\n\"Giants' Dance.\"\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE CROWNING OF ARTHUR AND THE SWORD EXCALIBUR\n\n\nNow Arthur the prince had all this time been nourished in Sir Ector's\nhouse as his own son, and was fair and tall and comely, being of the age\nof fifteen years, great in strength, gentle in manner, and accomplished\nin all exercises proper for the training of a knight.\n\nBut as yet he knew not of his father; for Merlin had so dealt, that none\nsave Uther and himself knew aught about him. Wherefore it befell that\nmany of the knights and barons who heard King Uther speak before his\ndeath, and call his son Arthur his successor, were in great amazement;\nand some doubted, and others were displeased.\n\nAnon the chief lords and princes set forth each to his own land, and,\nraising armed men and multitudes of followers, determined every one to\ngain the crown for himself; for they said in their hearts, \"If there be\nany such a son at all as he of whom this wizard forced the king to\nspeak, who are we that a beardless boy should have rule over us?\"\n\nSo the land stood long in great peril, for every lord and baron sought\nbut his own advantage; and the Saxons, growing ever more adventurous,\nwasted and overran the towns and villages in every part.\n\nThen Merlin went to Brice, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and advised him\nto require all the earls and barons of the realm and all knights and\ngentlemen-at-arms to come to him at London, before Christmas, under pain\nof cursing, that they might learn the will of Heaven who should be king.\nThis, therefore, the archbishop did, and upon Christmas Eve were met\ntogether in London all the greatest princes, lords, and barons; and long\nbefore day they prayed in St. Paul's Church, and the archbishop besought\nHeaven for a sign who should be lawful king of all the realm.\n\nAnd as they prayed, there was seen in the churchyard, set straight\nbefore the doorways of the church, a huge square stone having a naked\nsword stuck in the midst of it. And on the sword was written in letters\nof gold, \"Whoso pulleth out the sword from this stone is born the\nrightful King of England.\"\n\nAt this all the people wondered greatly; and, when Mass was over, the\nnobles, knights, and princes ran out eagerly from the church to see the\nstone and sword; and a law was forthwith made that whoso should pull out\nthe sword should be acknowledged straightway King of Britain.\n\nThen many knights and barons pulled at the sword with all their might,\nand some of them tried many times, but none could stir or move it.\n\nWhen all had tried in vain, the archbishop declared the man whom Heaven\nhad chosen was not yet there. \"But God,\" said he, \"will doubtless make\nhim known ere many days.\"\n\nSo ten knights were chosen, being men of high renown, to watch and keep\nthe sword; and there was proclamation made through all the land that\nwhosoever would, had leave and liberty to try and pull it from the\nstone. But though great multitudes of people came, both gentle and\nsimple, for many days, no man could ever move the sword a hair's breadth\nfrom its place.\n\nNow, at the New Year's Eve a great tournament was to be held in London,\nwhich the archbishop had devised to keep together lords and commons,\nlest they should grow estranged in the troublous and unsettled times. To\nthe which tournament there came, with many other knights, Sir Ector,\nArthur's foster-father, who had great possessions near to London; and\nwith him came his son, Sir Key, but recently made knight, to take his\npart in the jousting, and young Arthur also to witness all the sports\nand fighting.\n\nBut as they rode towards the jousts, Sir Key found suddenly he had no\nsword, for he had left it at his father's house; and turning to young\nArthur, he prayed him to ride back and fetch it for him. \"I will with a\ngood will,\" said Arthur; and rode fast back after the sword.\n\nBut when he came to the house he found it locked and empty, for all were\ngone forth to see the tournament. Whereat, being angry and impatient, he\nsaid within himself, \"I will ride to the churchyard and take with me\nthe sword that sticketh in the stone, for my brother shall not go\nwithout a sword this day.\"\n\nSo he rode and came to the churchyard, and alighting from his horse he\ntied him to the gate, and went to the pavilion, which was pitched near\nthe stone, wherein abode the ten knights who watched and kept it; but he\nfound no knights there, for all were gone to see the jousting.\n\nThen he took the sword by its handle, and lightly and fiercely he pulled\nit out of the stone, and took his horse and rode until he came to Sir\nKey and delivered him the sword. But as soon as Sir Key saw it he knew\nwell it was the sword of the stone, and, riding swiftly to his father,\nhe cried out, \"Lo! here, sir, is the sword of the stone, wherefore it is\nI who must be king of all this land.\"\n\nWhen Sir Ector saw the sword, he turned back straight with Arthur and\nSir Key and came to the churchyard, and there alighting, they went all\nthree into the church, and Sir Key was sworn to tell truly how he came\nby the sword. Then he confessed it was his brother Arthur who had\nbrought it to him.\n\nWhereat Sir Ector, turning to young Arthur, asked him--\"How gottest thou\nthe sword?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"I will tell you. When I went home to fetch my brother's\nsword, I found nobody to deliver it to me, for all were abroad to the\njousts. Yet was I loth to leave my brother swordless, and, bethinking me\nof this one, I came hither eagerly to fetch it for him, and pulled it\nout of the stone without any pain.\"\n\nThen said Sir Ector, much amazed and looking steadfastly on Arthur, \"If\nthis indeed be thus, 'tis thou who shalt be king of all this land--and\nGod will have it so--for none but he who should be rightful Lord of\nBritain might ever draw this sword forth from that stone. But let me now\nwith mine own eyes see thee put back the sword into its place and draw\nit forth again.\"\n\n\"That is no mastery,\" said Arthur; and straightway set it in the stone.\nAnd then Sir Ector pulled at it himself, and after him Sir Key, with all\nhis might, but both of them in vain: then Arthur, reaching forth his\nhand and grasping at the pommel, pulled it out easily, and at once.\n\nThen fell Sir Ector down upon his knees upon the ground before young\nArthur, and Sir Key also with him, and straightway did him homage as\ntheir sovereign lord.\n\nBut Arthur cried aloud, \"Alas! mine own dear father and my brother, why\nkneel ye thus to me?\"\n\n\"Nay, my Lord Arthur,\" answered then Sir Ector, \"we are of no\nblood-kinship with thee, and little though I thought how high thy kin\nmight be, yet wast thou never more than foster-child of mine.\" And then\nhe told him all he knew about his infancy, and how a stranger had\ndelivered him, with a great sum of gold, into his hands to be brought up\nand nourished as his own born child, and then had disappeared.\n\nBut when young Arthur heard of it, he fell upon Sir Ector's neck, and\nwept, and made great lamentation, \"For now,\" said he, \"I have in one\nday lost my father and my mother and my brother.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Ector presently, \"when thou shalt be made king be good\nand gracious unto me and mine.\"\n\n\"If not,\" said Arthur, \"I were no true man's son at all, for thou art he\nin all the world to whom I owe the most; and my good lady and mother,\nthy wife, hath ever kept and fostered me as though I were her own; so if\nit be God's will that I be king hereafter as thou sayest, desire of me\nwhatever thing thou wilt and I will do it; and God forbid that I should\nfail thee in it.\"\n\n\"I will but pray,\" replied Sir Ector, \"that thou wilt make my son Sir\nKey, thy foster-brother, seneschal of all the lands.\"\n\n\"That shall he be,\" said Arthur; \"and never shall another hold that\noffice, save thy son, while he and I do live.\"\n\nAnon, they left the church and went to the archbishop to tell him that\nthe sword had been achieved. And when he saw the sword in Arthur's hand\nhe set a day and summoned all the princes, knights, and barons to meet\nagain at St. Paul's Church and see the will of Heaven signified. So when\nthey came together, the sword was put back in the stone, and all tried,\nfrom the greatest to the least, to move it; but there before them all\nnot one could take it out save Arthur only.\n\nBut then befell a great confusion and dispute, for some cried out it was\nthe will of Heaven, and, \"Long live King Arthur,\" but many more were\nfull of wrath and said, \"What! would ye give the ancient scepter of this\nland unto a boy born none know how?\" And the contention growing greatly,\ntill nothing could be done to pacify their rage, the meeting was at\nlength broken up by the archbishop and adjourned till Candlemas, when\nall should meet again.\n\nBut when Candlemas was come, Arthur alone again pulled forth the sword,\nthough more than ever came to win it; and the barons, sorely vexed and\nangry, put it in delay till Easter. But as he had sped before so he did\nat Easter, and the barons yet once more contrived delays till Pentecost.\n\nBut now the archbishop, fully seeing God's will, called together, by\nMerlin's counsel, a band of knights and gentlemen-at-arms, and set them\nabout Arthur to keep him safely till the Feast of Pentecost. And when at\nthe feast Arthur still again alone prevailed to move the sword, the\npeople all with one accord cried out, \"Long live King Arthur! we will\nhave no more delay, nor any other king, for so it is God's will; and we\nwill slay whoso resisteth Him and Arthur;\" and wherewithal they kneeled\ndown all at once, and cried for Arthur's grace and pardon that they had\nso long delayed him from his crown. Then he full sweetly and\nmajestically pardoned them; and taking in his hand the sword, he offered\nit upon the high altar of the church.\n\nAnon was he solemnly knighted with great pomp by the most famous knight\nthere present, and the crown was placed upon his head; and, having\ntaken oath to all the people, lords and commons, to be true king and\ndeal in justice only unto his life's end, he received homage and service\nfrom all the barons who held lands and castles from the crown. Then he\nmade Sir Key, High Steward of England, and Sir Badewaine of Britain,\nConstable, and Sir Ulfius, Chamberlain: and after this, with all his\ncourt and a great retinue of knights and armed men, he journeyed into\nWales, and was crowned again in the old city of Caerleon-upon-Usk.\n\nMeanwhile those knights and barons who had so long delayed him from the\ncrown, met together and went up to the coronation feast at Caerleon, as\nif to do him homage; and there they ate and drank such things as were\nset before them at the royal banquet, sitting with the others in the\ngreat hall.\n\nBut when after the banquet Arthur began, according to the ancient royal\ncustom, to bestow great boons and fiefs on whom he would, they all with\none accord rose up, and scornfully refused his gifts, crying that they\nwould take nothing from a beardless boy come of low or unknown birth,\nbut would instead give him good gifts of hard sword-strokes between neck\nand shoulders.\n\nWhereat arose a deadly tumult in the hall, and every man there made him\nready to fight. But Arthur leaped up as a flame of fire against them,\nand all his knights and barons drawing their swords, rushed after him\nupon them and began a full sore battle; and presently the king's party\nprevailed, and drave the rebels from the hall and from the city, closing\nthe gates behind them; and King Arthur brake his sword upon them in his\neagerness and rage.\n\nBut amongst them were six kings of great renown and might, who more than\nall raged against Arthur and determined to destroy him, namely, King\nLot, King Nanters, King Urien, King Carados, King Yder, and King\nAnguisant. These six, therefore, joining their armies together, laid\nclose siege to the city of Caerleon, wherefrom King Arthur had so\nshamefully driven them.\n\nAnd after fifteen days Merlin came suddenly into their camp and asked\nthem what this treason meant. Then he declared to them that Arthur was\nno base adventurer, but King Uther's son, whom they were bound to serve\nand honor even though Heaven had not vouch-safed the wondrous miracle of\nthe sword. Some of the kings, when they heard Merlin speak thus,\nmarveled and believed him; but others, as King Lot, laughed him and his\nwords to scorn, and mocked him for a conjurer and wizard. But it was\nagreed with Merlin that Arthur should come forth and speak with the\nkings.\n\nSo he went forth to them to the city gate, and with him the archbishop\nand Merlin, and Sir Key, Sir Brastias, and a great company of others.\nAnd he spared them not in his speech, but spoke to them as king and\nchieftain, telling them plainly he would make them all bow to him if he\nlived, unless they choose to do him homage there and then; and so they\nparted in great wrath, and each side armed in haste.\n\n\"What will ye do?\" said Merlin to the kings; \"ye had best hold your\nhands, for were ye ten times as many ye should not prevail.\"\n\n\"Shall we be afraid of a dream-reader?\" quoth King Lot in scorn.\n\nWith that Merlin vanished away and came to King Arthur.\n\nThen Arthur said to Merlin, \"I have need now of a sword that shall\nchastise these rebels terribly.\"\n\n\"Come then with me,\" said Merlin, \"for hard by there is a sword that I\ncan gain for thee.\"\n\nSo they rode out that night till they came to a fair and broad lake, and\nin the midst of it King Arthur saw an arm thrust up, clothed in white\nsamite, and holding a great sword in the hand.\n\n\"Lo! yonder is the sword I spoke of,\" said Merlin.\n\nThen saw they a damsel floating on the lake in the moonlight. \"What\ndamsel is that?\" said the king.\n\n\"The lady of the lake,\" said Merlin; \"for upon this lake there is a\nrock, and on the rock a noble palace, where she abideth, and she will\ncome towards thee presently, when thou shalt ask her courteously for the\nsword.\"\n\nTherewith the damsel came to King Arthur, and saluted him, and he\nsaluted her, and said, \"Lady, what sword is that the arm holdeth above\nthe water? I would that it were mine, for I have no sword.\"\n\n\"Sir King,\" said the lady of the lake, \"that sword is mine, and if thou\nwilt give me in return a gift whenever I shall ask it of thee, thou\nshalt have it.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" said he, \"I will give thee any gift that thou shalt ask.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the damsel, \"go into yonder barge, and row thyself unto the\nsword, and take it and the scabbard with thee, and I will ask my gift of\nthee when I see my time.\"\n\nSo King Arthur and Merlin alighted, and tied their horses to two trees,\nand went into the barge; and when they came to the sword that the hand\nheld, King Arthur took it by the handle and bore it with him, and the\narm and hand went down under the water; and so they came back to land,\nand rode again to Caerleon.\n\nOn the morrow Merlin bade King Arthur to set fiercely on the enemy; and\nin the meanwhile three hundred good knights went over to King Arthur\nfrom the rebels' side. Then at the spring of day, when they had scarce\nleft their tents, he fell on them with might and main, and Sir\nBadewaine, Sir Key, and Sir Brastias slew on the right and on the left\nmarvelously; and ever in the thickest of the fight King Arthur raged\nlike a young lion, and laid on with his sword, and did wondrous deeds of\narms, to the joy and admiration of the knights and barons who beheld\nhim.\n\nThen King Lot, King Carados, and the King of the Hundred Knights--who\nalso was with them--going round to the rear, set on King Arthur fiercely\nfrom behind; but King Arthur, turning to his knights, fought ever in the\nforemost press until his horse was slain beneath him. At that, King Lot\nrode furiously at him, and smote him down; but rising straightway, and\nbeing set again on horseback, he drew his sword Excalibur that he had\ngained by Merlin from the lady of the lake, which, shining brightly as\nthe light of thirty torches, dazzled the eyes of his enemies. And\ntherewith falling on them afresh with all his knights, he drove them\nback and slew them in great numbers, and Merlin by his arts scattered\namong them fire and pitchy smoke, so that they broke and fled. Then all\nthe common people of Caerleon, seeing them give way, rose up with one\naccord, and rushed at them with clubs and staves, and chased them far\nand wide, and slew many great knights and lords, and the remainder of\nthem fled and were seen no more. Thus won King Arthur his first battle\nand put his enemies to shame.\n\nBut the six kings, though sorely routed, prepared for a new war, and\njoining to themselves five others swore together that, whether for weal\nor woe, they would keep steadfast alliance till they had destroyed King\nArthur. Then, with a host of 50,000 men-at-arms on horseback, and 10,000\nfoot, they were soon ready, and sent forth their fore-riders, and drew\nfrom the northern country towards King Arthur, to the castle of\nBedgraine.\n\nBut he by Merlin's counsel had sent over sea to King Ban of Benwick and\nKing Bors of Gaul, praying them to come and help him in his wars, and\npromising to help them in return against King Claudas, their foe. To\nwhich those kings made answer that they would joyfully fulfil his wish,\nand shortly after came to London with 300 knights, well arrayed for both\npeace and war, leaving behind them a great army on the other side of the\nsea till they had consulted with King Arthur and his ministers how they\nmight best dispose of it.\n\nAnd Merlin being asked for his advice and help, agreed to go himself and\nfetch it over sea to England, which in one night he did; and brought\nwith him 10,000 horsemen and led them northward privately to the forest\nof Bedgraine, and there lodged them in a valley secretly.\n\nThen, by the counsel of Merlin, when they knew which way the eleven\nkings would ride and sleep, King Arthur with Kings Ban and Bors made\nthemselves ready with their army for the fight, having yet but 30,000\nmen, counting the 10,000 who had come from Gaul.\n\n\"Now shall ye do my advice,\" said Merlin; \"I would that King Ban and\nKing Bors, with all their fellowship of 10,000 men, were led to ambush\nin this wood ere daylight, and stir not therefrom until the battle hath\nbeen long waged. And thou, Lord Arthur, at the spring of day draw forth\nthine army before the enemy, and dress the battle so that they may at\nonce see all thy host, for they will be the more rash and hardy when\nthey see you have but 20,000 men.\"\n\nTo this the three knights and the barons heartily consented, and it was\ndone as Merlin had devised. So on the morrow when the hosts beheld each\nother, the host of the north was greatly cheered to find so few led out\nagainst them.\n\nThen gave King Arthur the command to Sir Ulfius and Sir Brastias to take\n3000 men-at-arms, and to open battle. They therefore setting fiercely on\nthe enemy slew them on the right hand and the left till it was wonderful\nto see their slaughter.\n\nWhen the eleven kings beheld so small a band doing such mighty deeds of\narms they were ashamed, and charged them fiercely in return. Then was\nSir Ulfius' horse slain under him; but he fought well and marvelously on\nfoot against Duke Eustace and King Clarience, who set upon him\ngrievously, till Sir Brastias, seeing his great peril, pricked towards\nthem swiftly, and so smote the duke through with his spear that horse\nand man fell down and rolled over. Whereat King Clarience turned upon\nSir Brastias, and rushing furiously together they each unhorsed the\nother and fell both to the ground, and there lay a long time stunned,\ntheir horses' knees being cut to the bone. Then came Sir Key the\nseneschal with six companions, and did wondrous well, till the eleven\nkings went out against them and overthrew Sir Griflet and Sir Lucas the\nbutler. And when Sir Key saw Sir Griflet unhorsed and on foot, he rode\nagainst King Nanters hotly and smote him down, and led his horse to\nGriflet and horsed him again; with the same spear did Sir Key smite down\nKing Lot and wounded him full sore.\n\nBut seeing that, the King of the Hundred Knights rushed at Sir Key and\noverthrew him in return, and took his horse and gave it to King Lot.\nAnd when Sir Griflet saw Sir Key's mischance, he set his spear in rest,\nand riding at a mighty man-at-arms, he cast him down headlong and caught\nhis horse and led it straightway to Sir Key.\n\nBy now the battle was growing perilous and hard, and both sides fought\nwith rage and fury. And Sir Ulfius and Sir Brastias were both afoot and\nin great danger of their death, and foully stained and trampled under\nhorses' feet. Then King Arthur, putting spurs to his horse, rushed\nforward like a lion into the midst of all the _melee_, and singling out\nKing Cradlemont of North Wales, smote him through the left side and\noverthrew him, and taking his horse by the rein he brought it to Sir\nUlfius in haste and said, \"Take this horse, mine old friend, for thou\nhast great need of one, and charge by side of me.\" And even as he spoke\nhe saw Sir Ector, Sir Key's father, smitten to the earth by the King of\nthe Hundred Knights, and his horse taken to King Cradlemont.\n\nBut when King Arthur saw him ride upon Sir Ector's horse his wrath was\nvery great, and with his sword he smote King Cradlemont upon the helm,\nand shore off the fourth part thereof and of the shield, and drave the\nsword onward to the horse's neck and slew the horse, and hurled the king\nupon the ground.\n\nAnd now the battle waxed so great and furious that all the noise and\nsound thereof rang out by water and by wood, so that Kings Ban and Bors,\nwith all their knights and men-at-arms in ambush, hearing the tumult\nand the cries, trembled and shook for eagerness, and scarce could stay\nin secret, but made them ready for the fray and dressed their shields\nand harness.\n\nBut when King Arthur saw the fury of the enemy, he raged like a mad\nlion, and stirred and drove his horse now here, now there, to the right\nhand and to the left and stayed not in his wrath till he had slain full\ntwenty knights. He wounded also King Lot so sorely in the shoulder that\nhe left the field, and in great pain and dolor cried out to the other\nkings, \"Do ye as I devise, or we shall be destroyed. I, with the King of\nthe Hundred Knights, King Anguisant, King Yder, and the Duke of\nCambinet, will take fifteen thousand men and make a circuit, meanwhile\nthat ye do hold the battle with twelve thousand. Then coming suddenly we\nwill fall fiercely on them from behind and put them to the rout, but\nelse shall we never stand against them.\"\n\nSo Lot and four kings departed with their party to one side, and the six\nother kings dressed their ranks against King Arthur and fought long and\nstoutly.\n\nBut now Kings Ban and Bors, with all their army fresh and eager, broke\nfrom their ambush and met face to face the five kings and their host as\nthey came round behind, and then began a frantic struggle with breaking\nof spears and clashing of swords and slaying of men and horses. Anon\nKing Lot, espying in the midst King Bors, cried out in great dismay,\n\"Our Lady now defend us from our death and fearful wounds; our peril\ngroweth great, for yonder cometh one of the worshipfullest kings and\nbest knights in all the world.\"\n\n\"Who is he?\" said the King of the Hundred Knights.\n\n\"It is King Bors of Gaul,\" replied King Lot, \"and much I marvel how he\nmay have come with all his host into this land without our knowledge.\"\n\n\"Aha!\" cried King Carados, \"I will encounter with this king if ye will\nrescue me when there is need.\"\n\n\"Ride on,\" said they.\n\nSo King Carados and all his host rode softly till they came within a\nbow-shot of King Bors, and then both hosts, spurring their horses to\ntheir greatest swiftness, rushed at each other. And King Bors\nencountered in the onset with a knight, and struck him through with a\nspear, so that he fell dead upon the earth; then drawing his sword, he\ndid such mighty feats of arms that all who saw him gazed with wonder.\nAnon King Ban came also forth upon the field with all his knights, and\nadded yet more fury, sound, and slaughter, till at length both hosts of\nthe eleven kings began to quake, and drawing all together into one body,\nthey prepared to meet the worst, while a great multitude already fled.\n\nThen said King Lot, \"Lords, we must take yet other means, or worse loss\nstill awaits us. See ye not what people we have lost in waiting on the\nfootmen, and that it costs ten horsemen to save one of them? Therefore\nit is my counsel to put away our footmen from us, for it is almost\nnight, and King Arthur will not stay to slaughter them. So they can save\ntheir lives in this great wood hard by. Then let us gather into one\nband all the horsemen that remain, and whoso breaketh rank or leaveth\nus, let him be straightway slain by him that seeth him, for it is better\nthat we slay a coward than through a coward be all slain. How say ye?\"\nsaid King Lot; \"answer me, all ye kings.\"\n\n\"It is well said,\" replied they all.\n\nAnd swearing they would never fail each other, they mended and set right\ntheir armor and their shields, and took new spears and set them\nsteadfastly against their thighs, waiting, and so stood still as a clump\nof trees stands on the plain; and no assaults could shake them, they\nheld so hard together; which when King Arthur saw he marveled greatly,\nand was very wroth. \"Yet,\" cried he, \"I may not blame them, by my faith,\nfor they do as brave men ought to do, and are the best fighting men and\nknights of most prowess that I ever saw or heard tell of.\" And so said\nalso Kings Ban and Bors, and praised them greatly for their noble\nchivalry.\n\nBut now came forty noble knights out of King Arthur's host, and prayed\nthat he would suffer them to break the enemy. And when they were\nallowed, they rode forth with their spears upon their thighs, and\nspurred their horses to their hottest. Then the eleven kings, with a\nparty of their knights, rushed with set spears as fast and mightily to\nmeet them; and when they were encountered, all the crash and splinter of\ntheir spears and armor rang with a mighty din, and so fierce and bloody\nwas their onset that in all that day there had been no such cruel press,\nand rage, and smiting. At that same moment rode fiercely into the\nthickest of the struggle King Arthur and Kings Ban and Bors, and slew\ndownright on both hands right and left, until their horses went in blood\nup to the fetlocks.\n\nAnd while the slaughter and the noise and shouting were at their\ngreatest, suddenly there came down through the battle Merlin the Wizard,\nupon a great black horse, and riding to King Arthur, he cried out,\n\"Alas, my Lord! will ye have never done? Of sixty thousand have ye left\nbut fifteen thousand men alive. Is it not time to stay this slaying? for\nGod is ill pleased with ye that ye have never ended, and yonder kings\nshall not be altogether overthrown this time. But if ye fall upon them\nany more, the fortune of this day will turn, and go to them. Withdraw,\nLord, therefore, to thy lodging, and there now take thy rest, for to-day\nthou hast won a great victory, and overcome the noblest chivalry of all\nthe world. And now for many years those kings shall not disturb thee.\nTherefore, I tell thee, fear them no more, for now they are sore beaten,\nand have nothing left them but their honor; and why shouldest thou slay\nthem to take that?\"\n\nThen said King Arthur, \"Thou sayest well, and I will take thy counsel.\"\nWith that he cried out, \"Ho!\" for the battle to cease, and sent forth\nheralds through the field to stay more fighting. And gathering all the\nspoil, he gave it not amongst his own host, but to Kings Ban and Bors\nand all their knights and men-at-arms, that he might treat them with the\ngreater courtesy as strangers.\n\nThen Merlin took his leave of Arthur and the two other kings, and went\nto see his master, Blaise, a holy hermit, dwelling in Northumberland,\nwho had nourished him through all his youth. And Blaise was passing glad\nto see him, for there was a great love ever between them; and Merlin\ntold him how King Arthur had sped in the battle, and how it had ended;\nand told him the names of every king and knight of worship who was\nthere. So Blaise wrote down the battle, word for word, as Merlin told\nhim; and in the same way ever after, all the battles of King Arthur's\ndays Merlin caused Blaise, his master, to record.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nARTHUR DRIVES THE SAXONS FROM HIS REALM\n\n\nAnon, thereafter, came word to King Arthur that Ryence, King of North\nWales, was making war upon King Leodegrance of Camelgard; whereat he was\npassing wroth, for he loved Leodegrance well, and hated Ryence. So he\ndeparted with Kings Ban and Bors and twenty thousand men, and came to\nCamelgard, and rescued Leodegrance, and slew ten thousand of Ryence's\nmen and put him to flight. Then Leodegrance made a great festival to the\nthree kings, and treated them with every manner of mirth and pleasure\nwhich could be devised. And there had King Arthur the first sight of\nGuinevere, daughter of Leodegrance, whom in the end he married, as shall\nbe told hereafter.\n\nThen did Kings Ban and Bors take leave, and went to their own country,\nwhere King Claudas worked great mischief. And King Arthur would have\ngone with them, but they refused him, saying, \"Nay, ye shall not at this\ntime, for ye have yet much to do in these lands of your own; and we with\nthe riches we have won here by your gifts shall hire many good knights,\nand, by the grace of God, withstand the malice of King Claudas; and if\nwe have need we will send to ye for succor; and likewise ye, if ye have\nneed, send for us, and we will not tarry, by the faith of our bodies.\"\n\nWhen the two kings had left, King Arthur rode to Caerleon, and thither\ncame to him his half-sister Belisent, wife to King Lot, sent as a\nmessenger, but in truth to espy his power; and with her came a noble\nretinue, and also her four sons--Gowain, Gaheris, Agravaine, and Gareth.\nBut when she saw King Arthur and his nobleness, and all the splendor of\nhis knights and service, she forebore to spy upon him as a foe, and told\nhim of her husband's plots against him and his throne. And the king, not\nknowing that she was his half-sister, made great court to her; and being\nfull of admiration for her beauty, loved her out of measure, and kept\nher a long season at Caerleon. Wherefore her husband, King Lot, was more\nthan ever King Arthur's enemy, and hated him till death with a passing\ngreat hatred.\n\nAt that time King Arthur had a marvelous dream, which gave him great\ndisquietness of heart. He dreamed that the whole land was full of many\nfiery griffins and serpents, which burnt and slew the people everywhere;\nand then that he himself fought with them, and that they did him mighty\ninjuries, and wounded him nigh to death, but that at last he overcame\nand slew them all. When he woke, he sat in great heaviness of spirit and\npensiveness, thinking what this dream might signify, but by-and-by, when\nhe could by no means satisfy himself what it might mean, to rid himself\nof all his thoughts of it, he made ready with a great company to ride\nout hunting.\n\nAs soon as he was in the forest, the king saw a great hart before him,\nand spurred his horse, and rode long eagerly after it, and chased until\nhis horse lost breath and fell down dead from under him. Then, seeing\nthe hart escaped and his horse dead, he sat down by a fountain, and fell\ninto deep thought again. And as he sat there alone, he thought he heard\nthe noise of hounds, as it were some thirty couple in number, and\nlooking up he saw coming towards him the strangest beast that ever he\nhad seen or heard tell of, which ran towards the fountain and drank of\nthe water. Its head was like a serpent's, with a leopard's body and a\nlion's tail, and it was footed like a stag; and the noise was in its\nbelly, as it were the baying or questing of thirty couple of hounds.\nWhile it drank there was no noise within it; but presently, having\nfinished, it departed with a greater sound than ever.\n\nThe king was amazed at all this; but being greatly wearied, he fell\nasleep, and was before long waked up by a knight on foot, who said,\n\"Knight, full of thought and sleepy, tell me if thou sawest a strange\nbeast pass this way?\"\n\n\"Such a one I saw,\" said King Arthur to the knight, \"but that is now two\nmiles distant at the least. What would you with that beast?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said the knight, \"I have followed it for a long time, and have\nkilled my horse, and would to heaven I had another to pursue my quest\nwithal.\"\n\nAt that moment came a yeoman with another horse for the king, which,\nwhen the knight saw, he earnestly prayed to be given him. \"For I have\nfollowed this quest,\" said he, \"twelve months, and either I shall\nachieve him or bleed of the best blood of my body.\"\n\nIt was King Pellinore who at that time followed the questing beast, but\nneither he nor King Arthur knew each other.\n\n\"Sir Knight,\" said King Arthur, \"leave that quest and suffer me to have\nit, and I will follow it other twelve months.\"\n\n\"Ah, fool,\" said the knight, \"thy desire is utterly in vain, for it\nshall never be achieved but by me, or by my next of kin.\"\n\nTherewith he started to the king's horse, and mounted to the saddle,\ncrying out, \"Gramercy, this horse is mine!\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the king, \"thou mayest take my horse by force, and I will\nnot say nay; but till we prove whether thou or I be best on horseback, I\nshall not rest content.\"\n\n\"Seek me here,\" said the knight, \"whenever thou wilt, and here by this\nfountain thou shalt find me;\" and so he passed forth on his way.\n\nThen sat King Arthur in a deep fit of study, and bade his yeomen fetch\nhim yet another horse as quickly as they could. And when they left him\nall alone came Merlin, disguised as a child of fourteen years of age,\nand saluted the king, and asked him why he was so pensive and heavy.\n\n\"I may well be pensive and heavy,\" he replied, \"for here even now I have\nseen the strangest sight I ever saw.\"\n\n\"That know I well,\" said Merlin, \"as well as thyself, and also all thy\nthoughts; but thou art foolish to take thought, for it will not amend\nthee. Also I know what thou art, and know thy father and thy mother.\"\n\n\"That is false,\" said King Arthur; \"how shouldst thou know? thy years\nare not enough.\"\n\n\"Yea,\" said Merlin, \"but I know better than thou how thou wast born, and\nbetter than any man living.\"\n\n\"I will not believe thee,\" said King Arthur, and was wroth with the\nchild.\n\nSo Merlin departed, and came again in the likeness of an old man of\nfourscore years of age; and the king was glad at his coming, for he\nseemed wise and venerable. Then said the old man, \"Why art thou so sad?\"\n\n\"For divers reasons,\" said King Arthur; \"for I have seen strange things\nto-day, and but this moment there was here a child who told me things\nbeyond his years to know.\"\n\n\"Yea,\" said the old man, \"but he told thee truth, and more he would have\ntold thee hadst thou suffered him. But I will tell thee wherefore thou\nart sad, for thou hast done a thing of late for which God is displeased\nwith thee, and what it is thou knowest in thy heart, though no man else\nmay know.\"\n\n\"What are thou,\" said King Arthur, starting up all pale, \"that tellest\nme these tidings?\"\n\n\"I am Merlin,\" said he, \"and I was he in the child's likeness, also.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said King Arthur, \"thou art a marvelous and right fearful man, and\nI would ask and tell thee many things this day.\"\n\nAs they talked came one with the king's horses, and so, King Arthur\nmounting one, and Merlin another, they rode together to Caerleon; and\nMerlin prophesied to Arthur of his death, and also foretold his own end.\n\nAnd now King Arthur, having utterly dispersed and overwhelmed those\nkings who had so long delayed his coronation, turned all his mind to\noverthrow the Saxon heathens who yet in many places spoiled the land.\nCalling together, therefore, his knights and men-at-arms, he rode with\nall his hosts to York, where Colgrin, the Saxon, lay with a great army;\nand there he fought a mighty battle, long and bloody, and drove him into\nthe city, and besieged him. Then Baldulph, Colgrin's brother, came\nsecretly with six thousand men to assail King Arthur and to raise the\nsiege. But King Arthur was aware of him, and sent six hundred horsemen\nand three thousand foot to meet and fall on him instead. This therefore\nthey did, encountering them at midnight, and utterly defeated them, till\nthey fled away for life. But Baldulph, full of grief, resolved to share\nhis brother's peril; wherefore he shaved his head and beard, and\ndisguised himself as a jester, and so passed through King Arthur's camp,\nsinging and playing on a harp, till by degrees he drew near to the city\nwalls, where presently he made himself known, and was drawn up by ropes\ninto the town.\n\nAnon, while Arthur closely watched the city, came news that full six\nhundred ships had landed countless swarms of Saxons, under Cheldric, on\nthe eastern coast. At that he raised the siege, and marched straight to\nLondon, and there increased his army, and took counsel with his barons\nhow to drive the Saxons from the land for evermore.\n\nThen with his nephew, Hoel, King of the Armorican Britons, who came with\na great force to help him, King Arthur, with a mighty multitude of\nbarons, knights, and fighting men, went swiftly up to Lincoln, which the\nSaxons lay besieging. And there he fought a passing fierce battle, and\nmade grievous slaughter, killing above six thousand men, till the main\nbody of them turned and fled. But he pursued them hotly into the wood of\nCelidon, where, sheltering themselves among the trees from his arrows,\nthey made a stand, and for a long season bravely defended themselves.\nAnon, he ordered all the trees in that part of the forest to be cut\ndown, leaving no shelter or ambush; and with their trunks and branches\nmade a mighty barricade, which shut them in and hindered their escape.\nAfter three days, brought nigh to death by famine, they offered to give\nup their wealth of gold and silver spoils, and to depart forthwith in\ntheir empty ships; moreover, to pay tribute to King Arthur when they\nreached their home, and to leave him hostages till all was paid.\n\nThis offer, therefore, he accepted, and suffered them to depart. But\nwhen they had been a few hours at sea, they repented of their shameful\nflight, and turned their ships back again, and landing at Totnes,\nravaged all the land as far as the Severn, and, burning and slaying on\nall sides, bent their steps towards Bath.\n\nWhen King Arthur heard of their treachery and their return, he burned\nwith anger till his eyes shone like two torches, and then he swore a\nmighty oath to rest no more until he had utterly destroyed those enemies\nof God and man, and had rooted them forever out of the land of Britain.\nThen marching hotly with his armies on to Bath, he cried aloud to them,\n\"Since these detestable and impious heathens disdain to keep their faith\nwith me, I, to keep faith with God, to whom I swear to cherish and\ndefend this realm, will now this day avenge on them the blood of all\nthat they have slain in Britain!\"\n\nIn like manner after him spoke the archbishop, standing upon a hill, and\ncrying that to-day they should fight both for their country and for\nParadise, \"For whoso,\" he said, \"shall in this holy war be slain, the\nangels shall forthwith receive him; for death in this cause shall be\npenance and absolution for all sins.\"\n\nAt these words every man in the whole army raged with hatred, and\npressed eagerly to rush upon those savages.\n\nAnon King Arthur, dressed in armor shining with gold and jewels, and\nwearing on his head a helmet with a golden dragon, took a shield painted\nwith the likeness of the blessed Mary. Then girding on Excalibur and\ntaking in his right hand his great lance Ron, he placed his men in order\nand led them out against the enemy, who stood for battle on the slope of\nBadon Hill, ranged in the form of a wedge, as their custom was. And\nthey, resisting all the onslaughts of King Arthur and his host, made\nthat day a stout defense, and at night lay down upon the hill.\n\nBut on the next day Arthur led his army once again to the attack, and\nwith wounds and slaughter such as no man had ever seen before, he drove\nthe heathen step by step before him, backwards and upwards, till he\nstood with all his noblest knights upon the summit of the hill.\n\nAnd then men saw him, \"red as the rising sun from spur to plume,\" lift\nup his sword, and, kneeling, kiss the cross of it; and after, rising to\nhis feet, set might and main with all his fellowship upon the foe, till,\nas a troop of lions roaring for their prey, they drove them like a\nscattered herd along the plains, and cut them down till they could cut\nno more for weariness.\n\nThat day King Arthur by himself alone slew with his sword Excalibur four\nhundred and seventy heathens. Colgrin also, and his brother Baldulph,\nwere slain.\n\nThen the king bade Cador, Duke of Cornwall, follow Cheldric, the chief\nleader, and the remnant of his hosts, unto the uttermost. He, therefore,\nwhen he had first seized their fleet, and filled it with chosen men, to\nbeat them back when they should fly to it at last, chased them and slew\nthem without mercy so long as he could overtake them. And though they\ncrept with trembling hearts for shelter to the coverts of the woods and\ndens of mountains, yet even so they found no safety, for Cador slew\nthem, even one by one. Last of all he caught and slew Cheldric himself,\nand slaughtering a great multitude took hostages for the surrender of\nthe rest.\n\nMeanwhile, King Arthur turned from Badon Hill, and freed his nephew Hoel\nfrom the Scots and Picts, who besieged him in Alculd. And when he had\ndefeated them in three sore battles, he drove them before him to a lake,\nwhich was one of the most wondrous lakes in all the world, for it was\nfed by sixty rivers, and had sixty islands, and sixty rocks, and on\nevery island sixty eagles' nests. But King Arthur with a great fleet\nsailed round the rivers and besieged them in the lake for fifteen days,\nso that many thousands died of hunger.\n\nAnon the King of Ireland came with an army to relieve them; but Arthur,\nturning on him fiercely, routed him, and compelled him to retreat in\nterror to his land. Then he pursued his purpose, which was no less than\nto destroy the race of Picts and Scots, who, beyond memory, had been a\nceaseless torment to the Britons by their barbarous malice.\n\nSo bitterly, therefore, did he treat them, giving quarter to none, that\nat length the bishops of that miserable country with the clergy met\ntogether, and, bearing all the holy relics, came barefooted to the king\nto pray his mercy for their people. As soon as they were led before him\nthey fell down upon their knees, and piteously besought him to spare the\nfew survivors of their countrymen, and grant them any corner of the\nland where they might live in peace. When he thus heard them, and knew\nthat he had now fully punished them, he consented to their prayer, and\nwithdrew his hosts from any further slaughter.\n\nThen turned he back to his own realm, and came to York for Christmas,\nand there with high solemnity observed that holy tide; and being passing\ngrieved to see the ruin of the churches and houses, which the rage of\nthe pagans had destroyed, he rebuilt them, and restored the city to its\nancient happy state.\n\nAnd on a certain day, as the king sat with his barons, there came into\nthe court a squire on horseback, carrying a knight before him wounded to\nthe death, and told the king that hard by in the forest was a knight who\nhad reared up a pavilion by the fountain, \"and hath slain my master, a\nvaliant knight, whose name was Nirles; wherefore I beseech thee, Lord,\nmy master may be buried, and that some good knight may avenge his\ndeath.\"\n\nAt that stepped forth a squire named Griflet, who was very young, being\nof the same age with King Arthur, and besought the king, for all the\nservice he had done, to give him knighthood.\n\n\"Thou art full young and tender of age,\" said King Arthur, \"to take so\nhigh an order upon thee.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Griflet, \"I beseech thee make me a knight;\" and Merlin also\nadvising the king to grant his request, \"Well,\" said Arthur, \"be it then\nso,\" and knighted him forthwith. Then said he to him, \"Since I have\ngranted thee this favor, thou must in turn grant me a gift.\"\n\n\"Whatsoever thou wilt, my lord,\" replied Sir Griflet.\n\n\"Promise me,\" said King Arthur, \"by the faith of thy body, that when\nthou hast jousted with this knight at the fountain, thou wilt return to\nme straightway, unless he slay thee.\"\n\n\"I promise,\" said Sir Griflet; and taking his horse in haste, he dressed\nhis shield, and took a spear in his hand and rode full gallop till he\ncame to the fountain, by the side of which he saw a rich pavilion, and a\ngreat horse standing well saddled and bridled, and on a tree close by\nthere hung a shield of many colors and a long lance.\n\nThen Sir Griflet smote upon the shield with the butt of his spear until\nhe cast it to the ground. At that a knight came out of the pavilion and\nsaid, \"Fair knight, why smote ye down my shield?\"\n\n\"Because,\" said Griflet, \"I would joust with thee.\"\n\n\"It were better not,\" replied the knight; \"for thou art young and but\nlately made a knight, and thy strength is small compared to mine.\"\n\n\"For all that,\" said Sir Griflet, \"I will joust with ye.\"\n\n\"I am full loth,\" replied the knight; \"but if I must I must.\"\n\nThen did they wheel their horses far apart, and running them together,\nthe strange knight shivered Sir Griflet's spear to fragments, and smote\nhim through the shield and the left side, and broke his own spear into\nSir Griflet's body, so that the truncheon stuck there, and Sir Griflet\nand his horse fell down. But when the strange knight saw him overthrown,\nhe was sore grieved, and hastily alighted, for he thought that he had\nslain him. Then he unlaced his helm and gave him air, and tended him\ncarefully till he come out of his swoon, and leaving the truncheon of\nhis spear in his body, he set him upon horse, and commended him to God,\nand said he had a mighty heart, and if he lived would prove a passing\ngood knight. And so Sir Griflet rode to the court, where, by aid of good\nphysicians, he was healed in time and his life saved.\n\nAt that same time there came before the king twelve old men, ambassadors\nfrom Lucius Tiberius, Emperor of Rome, and demanded of Arthur tribute\nunto Caesar for his realm, or else, said they, the emperor would destroy\nboth him and his land. To whom King Arthur answered that he owed the\nemperor no tribute, nor would send him any; but said he, \"On a fair\nfield I will pay him his proper tribute--with a sharp spear and sword;\nand by my father's soul that tribute shall he take from me, whether he\nwill or not.\" So the ambassadors departed passing wroth, and King Arthur\nwas as wroth as they.\n\nBut on the morrow of Sir Griflet's hurt, the king commanded to take his\nhorse and armor secretly outside the city walls before sunrise of the\nnext morning, and, rising a long while before dawn, he mounted up and\ntook his shield and spear, and bade his chamberlain tarry till he came\nagain; but he forbore to take Excalibur, for he had given it for safety\ninto charge of his sister, Queen Morgan le Fay. And as the king rode at\na soft pace he saw suddenly three villains chasing Merlin and making to\nattack and slay him. Clapping spurs to his horse, he rushed towards\nthem, and cried out in a terrible voice, \"Flee, churls, or take your\ndeaths;\" but they, as soon as they perceived a knight, fled away with\nthe haste of hares.\n\n\"O Merlin,\" said the king; \"here hadst thou been killed, despite thy\nmany crafts, had I not chanced to pass.\"\n\n\"Not so,\" said Merlin, \"for when I would, I could have saved myself; but\nthou art nearer to thy death than I, for without special help from\nheaven thou ridest now towards thy grave.\"\n\nAnd as they were thus talking, they came to the fountain and the rich\npavilion pitched beside it, and saw a knight sitting all armed on a\nchair in the opening of the tent. \"Sir knight,\" said King Arthur, \"for\nwhat cause abidest thou here? to joust with any knight that passeth by?\nIf so, I caution thee to quit that custom.\"\n\n\"That custom,\" said the knight, \"have I followed and will follow, let\nwhosoever will say nay, and if any is aggrieved at it, let him who will\namend it.\"\n\n\"I will amend it,\" said King Arthur.\n\n\"And I will defend it,\" answered the knight.\n\nThen the knight mounted his horse and made himself ready, and charging\nat each other they met so hard that both their lances splintered into\npieces. Then King Arthur drew his sword, but the knight cried out, \"Not\nso; but let us run another tilt together with sharp spears.\"\n\n\"I would with a good will,\" said King Arthur; \"but I have no more\nspears.\"\n\n\"I have enough of spears,\" replied the knight, and called a squire, who\nbrought two good new lances.\n\nThen spurring their horses, they rushed together with all their might,\nand broke each one his own spear short off in his hand. Then the king\nagain put his hand to his sword, but the knight once more cried out,\n\"Nay, yet abide awhile; ye are the best jouster that I ever met with;\nfor the love of knighthood, let us joust yet once again.\"\n\nSo once again they tilted with their fullest force, and this time King\nArthur's spear was shivered, but the knight's held whole, and drove so\nfuriously against the king that both his horse and he were hurled to the\nground.\n\nAt that, King Arthur was enraged and drew his sword and said, \"I will\nattack thee now, Sir knight, on foot, for on horseback I have lost the\nhonor.\"\n\n\"I will be on horseback,\" said the knight. But when he saw him come on\nfoot, he lighted from his horse, thinking it shame to have so great\nadvantage.\n\nAnd then began they a strong battle, with many great strokes and\ngrievous blows, and so hewed with their swords that the fragments of\ntheir armor flew about the fields, and both so bled that all the ground\naround was like a marsh of blood. Thus they fought long and mightily,\nand anon, after brief rest fell to again, and so hurtled together like\ntwo wild boars that they both rolled to the ground. At last their swords\nclashed furiously together, and the knight's sword shivered the king's\nin two.\n\nThen said the knight, \"Now art thou in my power, to save thee or to\nslay. Yield therefore as defeated, and a recreant knight, or thou shalt\nsurely die.\"\n\n\"As for death,\" replied King Arthur, \"welcome be it when it cometh; but\nas for yielding me to thee as a recreant because of this poor accident\nupon my sword, I had far liefer die than be so shamed.\"\n\nSo saying, he sprang on the knight, and took him by the middle and threw\nhim down, and tore off his helm. But the knight, being a huge man,\nwrestled and struggled in a frenzy with the king until he brought him\nunder, and tore off his helm in turn, and would have smitten off his\nhead.\n\nAt that came Merlin and said, \"Knight, hold thy hand, for if thou\nslayest yonder knight, thou puttest all this realm to greater loss and\ndamage than ever realm was in; for he is a man of greater worship than\nthou dreamest of.\"\n\n\"Who then is he?\" cried the knight.\n\nThen would he have slain him for dread of his wrath, but Merlin cast a\nspell upon the knight, so that he fell suddenly to the earth in a deep\nsleep. Then raising up the king, he took the knight's horse for himself\nand rode away.\n\n\"Alas,\" said King Arthur, \"what hast thou done, Merlin? hast thou slain\nthis good knight by thy crafts? There never lived a better knight; I had\nrather lose my kingdom for a year than have him dead.\"\n\n\"Be not afraid,\" said Merlin; \"he is more whole and sound than thou art,\nand is but in a sleep, wherefrom in three hours' time he will awake. I\ntold thee what a knight he was, and how near thou was to death. There\nliveth not a better knight than he in all the world, and hereafter he\nshall do thee good service. His name is King Pellinore, and he shall\nhave two sons, who shall be passing valiant men, and, save one another,\nshall have no equal in prowess and in purity of life. The one shall be\nnamed Percival, and the other Lamoracke of Wales.\"\n\nSo they rode on to Caerleon, and all the knights grieved greatly when\nthey heard of this adventure, that the king would jeopardize his person\nthus alone. Yet could they not hide their joy at serving under such a\nnoble chief, who adventured his own life as much as did the poorest\nknight among them all.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE KING'S MANY AND GREAT ADVENTURES\n\n\nThe land of Britain being now in peace, and many great and valiant\nknights therein ready to take part in whatsoever battles or adventures\nmight arise, King Arthur resolved to follow all his enemies to their own\ncoasts. Anon he fitted out a great fleet, and sailing first to Ireland,\nin one battle he miserably routed the people of the country. The King of\nIreland also he took prisoner, and forced all earls and barons to pay\nhim homage.\n\nHaving conquered Ireland, he went next to Iceland and subdued it also,\nand the winter being then arrived, returned to Britain.\n\nIn the next year he set forth to Norway, whence many times the heathen\nhad descended on the British coasts; for he was determined to give so\nterrible a lesson to those savages as should be told through all their\ntribes both far and near, and make his name fearful to them.\n\nAs soon as he was come, Riculf, the king, with all the power of that\ncountry, met and gave him battle; but, after mighty slaughter, the\nBritons had at length the advantage, and slew Riculf and a countless\nmultitude besides.\n\nHaving thus defeated them, they set the cities on fire, dispersed the\ncountry people, and pursued the victory till they had reduced all\nNorway, as also Dacia, under the dominion of King Arthur.\n\nNow, therefore, having thus chastised those pagans who so long had\nharassed Britain, and put his yoke upon them, he voyaged on to Gaul,\nbeing steadfastly set upon defeating the Roman governor of that\nprovince, and so beginning to make good the threats which he had sent\nthe emperor by his ambassadors.\n\nSo soon as he was landed on the shores of Gaul, there came to him a\ncountryman who told him of a fearful giant in the land of Brittany, who\nhad slain, murdered, and devoured many people, and had lived for seven\nyears upon young children only, \"insomuch,\" said the man, \"that all the\nchildren of the country are destroyed; and but the other day he seized\nupon our duchess, as she rode out with her men, and took her away to his\nlodging in a cave of a mountain, and though five hundred people followed\nher, yet could they give her no help or rescue, but left her shrieking\nand crying lamentably in the giant's hands; and, Lord, she is thy cousin\nHoel's wife, who is of thy near kindred; wherefore, as thou art a\nrightful king, have pity on this lady; and as thou art a valiant\nconqueror, avenge us and deliver us.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said King Arthur, \"this is a great mischief that ye tell of. I\nhad rather than the best realm I have, that I had rescued that lady ere\nthe giant laid his hand on her; but tell me now, good fellow, canst thou\nbring me where this giant haunteth?\"\n\n\"Yea, Lord!\" replied the man; \"lo, yonder, where thou seest two great\nfires, there shalt thou find him, and more treasure also than is in all\nGaul besides.\"\n\nThen the king returned to his tent, and, calling Sir Key and Sir Bedwin,\ndesired them to get horses ready for himself and them, for that after\nevensong he would ride a pilgrimage with them alone to St. Michael's\nMount. So in the evening they departed, and rode as fast as they could\ntill they came near the mount, and there alighted; and the king\ncommanded the two knights to await him at the hill foot, while he went\nup alone.\n\nThen he ascended the mountain till he came to a great fire. And there he\nfound a sorrowful widow wringing her hands and weeping miserably,\nsitting by a new-made grave. And saluting her, King Arthur prayed her\nwherefore she made such heavy lamentations.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" she said, \"speak softly, for yonder is a devil, who, if he\nhear thy voice, will come and straightway slay thee. Alas! what dost\nthou here? Fifty such men as thou were powerless to resist him. Here\nlieth dead my lady, Duchess of Brittany, wife to Sir Hoel, who was the\nfairest lady in the world, foully and shamefully slaughtered by that\nfiend! Beware that thou go not too nigh, for he hath overcome and\nvanquished fifteen kings, and hath made himself a coat of precious\nstones, embroidered with their beards; but if thou art so hardy, and\nwilt speak with him, at yonder great fire he is at supper.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said King Arthur, \"I will accomplish mine errand, for all thy\nfearful words;\" and so went forth to the crest of the hill, and saw\nwhere the giant sat at supper, gnawing on a limb of a man, and baking\nhis huge frame by the fire, while three damsels turned three spits,\nwhereon were spitted, like larks, twelve young children lately born.\n\nWhen King Arthur saw all that, his heart bled for sorrow, and he\ntrembled for rage and indignation; then lifting up his voice he cried\naloud--\"God, that wieldeth all the world, give thee short life and\nshameful death, and may the devil have thy soul! Why hast thou slain\nthose children and that fair lady! Wherefore arise, and prepare thee to\nperish, thou glutton and fiend, for this day thou shalt die by my\nhands.\"\n\nThen the giant, mad with fury at these words, started up, and seizing a\ngreat club, smote the king, and struck his crown from off his head. But\nKing Arthur smote him with his sword so mightily in return, that all his\nblood gushed forth in streams.\n\nAt that the giant, howling in great anguish, threw away his club of\niron, and caught the king in both his arms and strove to crush his ribs\ntogether. But King Arthur struggled and writhed, and twisted him about\nso that the giant could not hold him tightly; and as they fiercely\nwrestled, they both fell, and rolling over one another,\ntumbled--wrestling, and struggling, and fighting frantically--from rock\nto rock, till they came to the sea.\n\nAnd as they tore and strove and tumbled, the king ever and anon smote at\nthe giant with his dagger, till his arms stiffened in death around King\nArthur's body, and groaning horribly, he died. So presently the two\nknights came and found the king locked fast in the giant's arms, and\nvery faint and weary, and loosed him from their hold.\n\nThen the king bade Sir Key to \"smite off the giant's head, and set it on\nthe truncheon of a spear, and bear it to Sir Hoel, and tell him that his\nenemy is slain; and afterwards let it be fastened to the castle gate,\nthat all the people may behold it. And go ye two up on the mountain and\nfetch me my shield and sword, and also the great club of iron ye will\nsee there; and as for the treasure, ye shall find there wealth beyond\ncounting, but take as much as ye will, for I have his kirtle and the\nclub, I desire no more.\"\n\nThen the knights fetched the club and kirtle, as the king had ordered,\nand took the treasure to themselves, as much as they could carry, and\nreturned to the army. But when this deed was noised abroad, all the\npeople came in multitudes to thank the king, who told them \"to give\nthanks to God, and to divide the giant's spoils amongst them equally.\"\nAnd King Arthur desired Sir Hoel to build a church upon the mount, and\ndedicate it to the Archangel Michael.\n\nOn the morrow, all the host moved onwards into the country of Champagne,\nand Flollo, the Roman tribune, retired before them into Paris. But\nwhile he was preparing to collect more forces from the neighboring\ncountries, King Arthur came upon him unawares; and besieged him in the\ntown.\n\nAnd when a month had passed, Flollo--full of grief at the starvation of\nhis people, who died in hundreds day by day--sent to King Arthur, and\ndesired that they two might fight together; for he was a man of mighty\nstature and courage, and thought himself sure of the victory. This\nchallenge, King Arthur, full weary of the siege, accepted with great\njoy, and sent back word to Flollo that he would meet him whensoever he\nappointed.\n\nAnd a truce being made on both sides, they met together the next day on\nthe island without the city, where all the people also were gathered to\nsee the issue. And as the king and Flollo rode up to the lists, each was\nso nobly armed and horsed, and sat so mightily upon his saddle, that no\nman could tell which way the battle would end.\n\nWhen they had saluted one another, and presented themselves against each\nother with their lances aloft, they put spurs to their horses and began\na fierce encounter. But King Arthur, carrying his spear more warily,\nstruck it on the upper part of Flollo's breast, and flung him from his\nsaddle to the earth. Then drawing his sword, he cried to him to rise,\nand rushed upon him; but Flollo, starting up, met him with his spear\ncouched, and pierced the breast of King Arthur's horse, and overthrew\nboth horse and man.\n\nThe Britons, when they saw their king upon the ground, could scarcely\nkeep themselves from breaking up the truce and falling on the Gauls. But\nas they were about to burst the barriers, and rush upon the lists, King\nArthur hastily arose, and, guarding himself with his shield, ran with\nspeed on Flollo. And now they renewed the assault with great rage, being\nsorely bent upon each other's death.\n\nAt length, Flollo, seizing his advantage, gave King Arthur a huge stroke\nupon the helm, which nigh overthrew him, and drew forth his blood in\nstreams.\n\nBut when King Arthur saw his armor and shield all red with blood, he was\ninflamed with fury, and lifting up Excalibur on high, with all his\nmight, he struck straight through the helmet into Flollo's head, and\nsmote it into halves; and Flollo falling backwards, and tearing up the\nground with his spurs, expired.\n\nAs soon as this news spread, the citizens all ran together, and, opening\nthe gates, surrendered the city to the conqueror.\n\nAnd when he had overrun the whole province with his arms, and reduced it\neverywhere to subjection, he returned again to Britain, and held his\ncourt at Caerleon, with greater state than ever.\n\nAnon he invited thereto all the kings, dukes, earls, and barons, who\nowed him homage, that he might treat them royally, and reconcile them to\neach other, and to his rule.\n\nAnd never was there a city more fit and pleasant for such festivals. For\non one side it was washed by a noble river, so that the kings and\nprinces from the countries beyond sea might conveniently sail up to it;\nand on the other side, the beauty of the groves and meadows, and the\nstateliness and magnificence of the royal palaces, with lofty gilded\nroofs, made it even rival the grandeur of Rome. It was famous also for\ntwo great and noble churches, whereof one was built in honor of the\nmartyr Julius, and adorned with a choir of virgins who had devoted\nthemselves wholly to the service of God; and the other, founded in\nmemory of St. Aaron, his companion, maintained a convent of canons, and\nwas the third metropolitan church of Britain. Besides, there was a\ncollege of two hundred philosophers, learned in astronomy, and all the\nother sciences and arts.\n\nIn this place, therefore, full of such delights, King Arthur held his\ncourt, with many jousts and tournaments, and royal huntings, and rested\nfor a season after all his wars.\n\nAnd on a certain day there came into the court a messenger from Ryence,\nKing of North Wales, bearing this message from his master: That King\nRyence had discomfited eleven kings, and had compelled each one of them\nto cut off his beard; that he had trimmed a mantle with these beards,\nand lacked but one more beard to finish it; and that he therefore now\nsent for King Arthur's beard, which he required of him forthwith, or\nelse he would enter his lands and burn and slay, and never leave them\ntill he had taken by force not his beard only, but his head also.\n\nWhen King Arthur heard these words he flushed all scarlet, and rising in\ngreat anger said, \"Well it is for thee that thou speakest another man's\nwords with thy lips, and not thine own. Thou hast said thy message,\nwhich is the most insolent and villainous that ever man heard sent to\nany king: now hear my reply. My beard is yet too young to trim that\nmantle of thy master's with; yet, young although I be, I owe no homage\neither to him or any man--nor will ever owe. But, young although I be, I\nwill have thy master's homage upon both his knees before this year be\npast, or else he shall lose his head, by the faith of my body, for this\nmessage is the shamefullest I ever heard speak of. I see well thy king\nhath never yet met with a worshipful man; but tell him that King Arthur\nwill have his head or his worship right soon.\"\n\nThen the messenger departed, and Arthur, looking round upon his knights,\ndemanded of them if any there knew this King Ryence. \"Yea,\" answered Sir\nNoran, \"I know him well, and there be few better or stronger knights\nupon a field than he; and he is passing proud and haughty in his heart;\nwherefore I doubt not, Lord, he will make war on thee with mighty\npower.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said King Arthur, \"I shall be ready for him, and that shall he\nfind.\"\n\nWhile the king thus spoke, there came into the hall a damsel having on a\nmantle richly furred, which she let fall, and showed herself to be\ngirded with a noble sword. The king being surprised at this, said,\n\"Damsel, wherefore art thou girt with that sword, for it beseemeth thee\nnot?\" \"Sir,\" said she, \"I will tell thee. This sword wherewith I am thus\ngirt gives me great sorrow and encumbrance, for I may not be delivered\nfrom it till I find a knight faithful and pure and true, strong of body\nand of valiant deeds, without guile or treachery, who shall be able to\ndraw it from its scabbard, which no man else can do. And I have but just\nnow come from the court of King Ryence, for there they told me many\ngreat and good knights were to be ever found; but he and all his knights\nhave tried to draw it forth in vain--for none of them can move it.\"\n\n\"This is a great marvel,\" said King Arthur; \"I will myself try to draw\nforth this sword, not thinking in my heart that I am the best knight,\nbut rather to begin and give example that all may try after me.\" Saying\nthis, he took the sword and pulled at it with all his might, but could\nnot shake or move it.\n\n\"Thou needest not strive so hard, Lord,\" said the damsel, \"for whoever\nmay be able to pull it forth shall do so very easily.\"\n\n\"Thou sayest well,\" replied the king, remembering how he had himself\ndrawn forth the sword from the stone before St. Paul's. \"Now try ye, all\nmy barons; but beware ye be not stained with shame, or any treachery, or\nguile.\" And turning away his face from them, King Arthur mused full\nheavily on sins within his breast he knew of, and which his failure\nbrought to mind right sadly.\n\nThen all the barons present tried each after other, but could none of\nthem succeed; whereat the damsel greatly wept, and said, \"Alas, alas! I\nthought in this court to have found the best knight, without shame or\ntreachery or treason.\"\n\nNow by chance there was at that time a poor knight with King Arthur, who\nhad been prisoner at his court for half a year or more, charged with\nslaying unawares a knight who was a cousin of the king's. He was named\nBalin le Savage, and had been by the good offices of the barons\ndelivered from prison, for he was of good and valiant address and gentle\nblood. He being secretly present at the court saw this advantage, and\nfelt his heart rise high within him, and longed to try the sword as did\nthe others; but being poor and poorly clad, he was ashamed to come\nforward in the press of knights and nobles. But in his heart he felt\nassured that he could do better--if Heaven willed--than any knight among\nthem all.\n\nSo as the damsel left the king, he called to her and said, \"Damsel, I\npray thee of thy courtesy, suffer me to try the sword as well as all\nthese lords; for though I be but poorly clad, I feel assurance in my\nheart.\"\n\nThe damsel looked at him, saw in him a likely and an honest man, but\nbecause of his poor garments could not think him to be any knight of\nworship, and said, \"Sir, there is no need to put me to any more pain or\nlabor; why shouldst thou succeed where so many worthy ones have failed?\"\n\n\"Ah, fair lady,\" answered Balin, \"worthiness and brave deeds are not\nshown by fair raiment but manhood and truth lie hid within the heart.\nThere be many worshipful knights unknown to all the people.\"\n\n\"By my faith, thou sayest truth,\" replied the damsel; \"try therefore, if\nthou wilt, what thou canst do.\"\n\nSo Balin took the sword by the girdle and hilt, and drew it lightly out,\nand looking on its workmanship and brightness, it pleased him greatly.\n\nBut the king and all the barons marveled at Sir Balin's fortune, and\nmany knights were envious of him, for, \"Truly,\" said the damsel, \"this\nis a passing good knight, and the best man I have ever found, and the\nmost worshipfully free from treason, treachery, or villainy, and many\nwonders shall he achieve.\n\n\"Now, gentle and courteous knight,\" continued she, turning to Balin,\n\"give me the sword again.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Sir Balin, \"save it be taken from me by force, I shall\npreserve this sword for evermore.\"\n\n\"Thou art not wise,\" replied the damsel, \"to keep it from me; for if\nthou wilt do so, thou shall slay with it the best friend thou hast, and\nthe sword shall be thine own destruction also.\"\n\n\"I will take whatever adventure God may send,\" said Balin; \"but the\nsword will I keep, by the faith of my body.\"\n\n\"Thou will repent it shortly,\" said the damsel; \"I would take the sword\nfor thy sake rather than for mine, for I am passing grieved and heavy\nfor thy sake, who wilt not believe the peril I foretell thee.\" With that\nshe departed, making great lamentation.\n\nThen Balin sent for his horse and armor, and took his leave of King\nArthur, who urged him to stay at his court. \"For,\" said he, \"I believe\nthat thou art displeased that I showed thee unkindness; blame me not\novermuch, for I was misinformed against thee, and knew not truly what a\nknight of worship thou art. Abide in this court with my good knights,\nand I will so advance thee that thou shalt be well pleased.\"\n\n\"God thank thee, Lord,\" said Balin, \"for no man can reward thy bounty\nand thy nobleness; but at this time I must needs depart, praying thee\never to hold me in thy favor.\"\n\n\"Truly,\" said King Arthur, \"I am grieved for thy departure; but tarry\nnot long, and thou shalt be right welcome to me and all my knights when\nthou returnest, and I will repair my neglect and all that I have done\namiss against thee.\"\n\n\"God thank thee, Lord,\" again said Balin, and made ready to depart.\n\nBut meanwhile came into the court a lady upon horseback, full richly\ndressed, and saluted King Arthur, and asked him for the gift that he had\npromised her when she gave him his sword Excalibur, \"for,\" said she, \"I\nam the lady of the lake.\"\n\n\"Ask what thou wilt,\" said the king, \"and thou shalt have it, if I have\npower to give.\"\n\n\"I ask,\" said she, \"the head of that knight who hath just achieved the\nsword, or else the damsel's head who brought it, or else both; for the\nknight slew my brother, and the lady caused my father's death.\"\n\n\"Truly,\" said King Arthur, \"I cannot grant thee this desire; it were\nagainst my nature and against my name; but ask whatever else thou wilt,\nand I will do it.\"\n\n\"I will demand no other thing,\" said she.\n\nAnd as she spake came Balin, on his way to leave the court, and saw her\nwhere she stood, and knew her straightway for his mother's murderess,\nwhom he had sought in vain three years. And when they told him that she\nhad asked King Arthur for his head, he went up straight to her and said,\n\"May evil have thee! Thou desirest my head, therefore shalt thou lose\nthine\"; and with his sword he lightly smote her head off, in the\npresence of the king and all the court.\n\n\"Alas, for shame!\" cried out King Arthur, rising up in wrath; \"why hast\nthou done this, shaming both me and my court? I am beholden greatly to\nthis lady, and under my safe conduct came she here; thy deed is passing\nshameful; never shall I forgive thy villainy.\"\n\n\"Lord,\" cried Sir Balin, \"hear me; this lady was the falsest living, and\nby her witchcraft hath destroyed many, and caused my mother also to be\nburnt to death by her false arts and treachery.\"\n\n\"What cause soever thou mightest have had,\" said the king, \"thou\nshouldst have forborne her in my presence. Deceive not thyself, thou\nshalt repent this sin, for such a shame was never brought upon my court;\ndepart now from my face with all the haste thou mayest.\"\n\nThen Balin took up the head of the lady and carried it to his lodgings,\nand rode forth with his squire from out the town. Then said he, \"Now\nmust we part; take ye this head and bear it to my friends in\nNorthumberland, and tell them how I speed, and that our worst foe is\ndead; also tell them that I am free from prison, and of the adventure of\nmy sword.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said the squire, \"ye are greatly to blame to have so displeased\nKing Arthur.\"\n\n\"As for that,\" said Sir Balin, \"I go now to find King Ryence, and\ndestroy him or lose my life; for should I take him prisoner, and lead\nhim to the court, perchance King Arthur would forgive me, and become my\ngood and gracious lord.\"\n\n\"Where shall I meet thee again?\" said the squire.\n\n\"In King Arthur's court,\" said Balin.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nSIR BALIN FIGHTS WITH HIS BROTHER, SIR BALAN\n\n\nNow there was a knight at the court more envious than the others of Sir\nBalin, for he counted himself one of the best knights in Britain. His\nname was Lancear; and going to the king, he begged leave to follow after\nSir Balin and avenge the insult he had put upon the court. \"Do thy\nbest,\" replied the king, \"for I am passing wroth with Balin.\"\n\nIn the meantime came Merlin, and was told of this adventure of the sword\nand lady of the lake.\n\n\"Now hear me,\" said he, \"when I tell ye that this lady who hath brought\nthe sword is the falsest damsel living.\"\n\n\"Say not so,\" they answered, \"for she hath a brother a good knight, who\nslew another knight this damsel loved; so she, to be revenged upon her\nbrother, went to the Lady Lile, of Avilion, and besought her help. Then\nLady Lile gave her the sword, and told her that no man should draw it\nforth but one, a valiant knight and strong, who should avenge her on her\nbrother. This, therefore, was the reason why the damsel came here.\"\n\n\"I know it all as well as ye do,\" answered Merlin; \"and would to God\nshe had never come hither, for never came she into any company but to do\nharm; and that good knight who hath achieved the sword shall be himself\nslain by it, which shall be great harm and loss, for a better knight\nthere liveth not; and he shall do unto my lord the king great honor and\nservice.\"\n\nThen Sir Lancear, having armed himself at all points, mounted, and rode\nafter Sir Balin, as fast as he could go, and overtaking him, he cried\naloud, \"Abide, Sir knight! wait yet awhile, or I shall make thee do so.\"\n\nHearing him cry, Sir Balin fiercely turned his horse, and said, \"Fair\nknight, what wilt thou with me? wilt thou joust?\"\n\n\"Yea,\" said Sir Lancear, \"it is for that I have pursued thee.\"\n\n\"Peradventure,\" answered Balin, \"thou hadst best have stayed at home,\nfor many a man who thinketh himself already victor, endeth by his own\ndownfall. Of what court art thou?\"\n\n\"Of King Arthur's court,\" cried Lancear, \"and I am come to revenge the\ninsult thou hast put on it this day.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Sir Balin, \"I see that I must fight thee, and I repent to\nbe obliged to grieve King Arthur or his knights; and thy quarrel seemeth\nfull foolish to me, for the damsel that is dead worked endless evils\nthrough the land, or else I had been loth as any knight that liveth to\nhave slain a lady.\"\n\n\"Make thee ready,\" shouted Lancear, \"for one of us shall rest forever in\nthis field.\"\n\nBut at their first encounter Sir Lancear's spear flew into splinters\nfrom Sir Balin's shield, and Sir Balin's lance pierced with such might\nthrough Sir Lancear's shield, that it rove the hauberk also, and passed\nthrough the knight's body and the horse's crupper. And Sir Balin turning\nfiercely round again, drew out his sword, and knew not that he had\nalready slain him; and then he saw him lie a corpse upon the ground.\n\nAt that same moment came a damsel riding towards him as fast as her\nhorse could gallop, who, when she saw Sir Lancear dead, wept and\nsorrowed out of measure, crying, \"O, Sir Balin, two bodies hast thou\nslain, and one heart; and two hearts in one body; and two souls also\nhast thou lost.\"\n\nTherewith she took the sword from her dead lover's side--for she was Sir\nLancear's lady-love--and setting the pommel of it on the ground, ran\nherself through the body with the blade.\n\nWhen Sir Balin saw her dead he was sorely hurt and grieved in spirit,\nand repented the death of Lancear, which had also caused so fair a\nlady's death. And being unable to look on their bodies for sorrow, he\nturned aside into a forest, where presently as he rode, he saw the arms\nof his brother, Sir Balan. And when they were met they put off their\nhelms, and embraced each other, kissing, and weeping for joy and pity.\nThen Sir Balin told Sir Balan all his late adventures, and that he was\non his way to King Ryence, who at that time was besieging Castle\nTerrabil. \"I will be with thee,\" answered Sir Balan, \"and we will help\neach other, as brethren ought to do.\"\n\nAnon by chance, as they were talking, came King Mark, of Cornwall, by\nthat way, and when he saw the two dead bodies of Sir Lancear and his\nlady lying there, and heard the story of their death, he vowed to build\na tomb to them before he left that place. So pitching his pavilion\nthere, he sought through all the country round to find a monument, and\nfound at last a rich and fair one in a church, which he took and raised\nabove the dead knight and his damsel, writing on it--\"Here lieth\nLancear, son of the King of Ireland, who, at his own request, was slain\nby Balin; and here beside him also lieth his lady Colombe, who slew\nherself with her lover's sword for grief and sorrow.\"\n\nThen as Sir Balin and Sir Balan rode away, Merlin met with them, and\nsaid to Balin, \"Thou hast done thyself great harm not to have saved that\nlady's life who slew herself; and because of it, thou shalt strike the\nmost Dolorous Stroke that ever man struck, save he that smote our Lord.\nFor thou shalt smite the truest and most worshipful of living knights,\nwho shall not be recovered from his wounds for many years, and through\nthat stroke three kingdoms shall be overwhelmed in poverty and misery.\"\n\n\"If I believed,\" said Balin, \"what thou sayest, I would slay myself to\nmake thee a liar.\"\n\nAt that Merlin vanished suddenly away; but afterwards he met them in\ndisguise towards night, and told them he could lead them to King\nRyence, whom they sought. \"For this night he is to ride with sixty\nlances only through a wood hard by.\"\n\nSo Sir Balin and Sir Balan hid themselves within the wood, and at\nmidnight came out from their ambush among the leaves by the highway, and\nwaited for the king, whom presently they heard approaching with his\ncompany. Then did they suddenly leap forth and smote at him and\noverthrew him and laid him on the ground, and turning on his company\nwounded and slew forty of them, and put the rest to flight. And\nreturning to King Ryence they would have slain him there, but he craved\nmercy, and yielded to their grace, crying, \"Knights full of prowess,\nslay me not; for by my life ye may win something--but my death can avail\nye nought.\"\n\n\"Ye say truth,\" said the two knights, and put him in a horse-litter, and\nwent swiftly through all the night, till at cock-crow they came to King\nArthur's palace. There they delivered him to the warders and porters, to\nbe brought before the king, with this message--\"That he was sent to King\nArthur by the knight of the two swords\" (for so was Balin known by name,\nsince his adventure with the damsel) \"and by his brother.\" And so they\nrode away again ere sunrise.\n\nWithin a month or two thereafter, King Arthur being somewhat sick, went\nforth outside the town, and had his pavilion pitched in a meadow, and\nthere abode, and laid him down on a pallet to sleep, but could get no\nrest. And as he lay he heard the sound of a great horse, and looking\nout of the tent door, saw a knight ride by, making great lamentation.\n\n\"Abide, fair sir,\" said King Arthur, \"and tell me wherefore thou makest\nthis sorrow.\"\n\n\"Ye may little amend it,\" said the knight, and so passed on.\n\nPresently after Sir Balin, rode, by chance, past that meadow, and when\nhe saw the king he alighted and came to him on foot, and kneeled and\nsaluted him.\n\n\"By my head,\" said King Arthur, \"ye be welcome, Sir Balin;\" and then he\nthanked him heartily for revenging him upon King Ryence, and for sending\nhim so speedily a prisoner to his castle, and told him how King Nero,\nRyence's brother, had attacked him afterwards to deliver Ryence from\nprison; and how he had defeated him and slain him, and also King Lot, of\nOrkney, who was joined with Nero, and whom King Pellinore had killed in\nthe battle. Then when they had thus talked, King Arthur told Sir Balin\nof the sullen knight that had just passed his tent, and desired him to\npursue him and to bring him back.\n\nSo Sir Balin rode and overtook the knight in a forest with a damsel, and\nsaid, \"Sir knight, thou must come back with me unto my lord, King\nArthur, to tell him the cause of thy sorrow, which thou hast refused\neven now to do.\"\n\n\"That will I not,\" replied the knight, \"for it would harm me much, and\ndo him no advantage.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Balin, \"I pray thee make ready, for thou must needs go\nwith me--or else I must fight with thee and take thee by force.\"\n\n\"Wilt thou be warrant for safe conduct, if I go with thee?\" inquired the\nknight.\n\n\"Yea, surely,\" answered Balin, \"I will die else.\"\n\nSo the knight made ready to go with Sir Balin, and left the damsel in\nthe wood.\n\nBut as they went, there came one invisible, and smote the knight through\nthe body with a spear. \"Alas,\" cried Sir Herleus (for so was he named),\n\"I am slain under thy guard and conduct, by that traitor knight called\nGarlon, who through magic and witchcraft rideth invisibly. Take,\ntherefore, my horse, which is better than thine, and ride to the damsel\nwhom we left, and follow the quest I had in hand, as she will lead\nthee--and revenge my death when thou best mayest.\"\n\n\"That will I do,\" said Sir Balin, \"by my knighthood, and so I swear to\nthee.\"\n\nThen went Sir Balin to the damsel, and rode forth with her; she carrying\never with her the truncheon of the spear wherewith Sir Herleus had been\nslain. And as they went, a good knight, Perin de Mountbelgard, joined\ntheir company, and vowed to take adventure with them wheresoever they\nmight go. But presently as they passed a hermitage fast by a churchyard,\ncame the knight Garlon, again invisible, and smote Sir Perin through the\nbody with a spear, and slew him as he had slain Sir Herleus. Whereat,\nSir Balin greatly raged, and swore to have Sir Garlon's life, whenever\nnext he might encounter and behold him in his bodily shape. Anon, he\nand the hermit buried the good knight Sir Perin, and rode on with the\ndamsel till they came to a great castle, whereinto they were about to\nenter. But when Sir Balin had passed through the gateway, the portcullis\nfell behind him suddenly, leaving the damsel on the outer side, with men\naround her, drawing their swords as if to slay her.\n\nWhen he saw that, Sir Balin climbed with eager haste by wall and tower,\nand leaped into the castle moat, and rushed towards the damsel and her\nenemies, with his sword drawn, to fight and slay them. But they cried\nout, \"Put up thy sword, Sir knight, we will not fight thee in this\nquarrel, for we do nothing but an ancient custom of this castle.\"\n\nThen they told him that the lady of the castle was passing sick, and had\nlain ill for many years, and might never more be cured, unless she had a\nsilver dish full of the blood of a pure maid and a king's daughter.\nWherefore the custom of the castle was, that never should a damsel pass\nthat way but she must give a dish full of her blood. Then Sir Balin\nsuffered them to bleed the damsel with her own consent, but her blood\nhelped not the lady of the castle. So on the morrow they departed, after\nright good cheer and rest.\n\nThen they rode three or four days without adventure, and came at last to\nthe abode of a rich man, who sumptuously lodged and fed them. And while\nthey sat at supper Sir Balin heard a voice of some one groaning\ngrievously. \"What noise is this?\" said he.\n\n\"Forsooth,\" said the host, \"I will tell you. I was lately at a\ntournament, and there I fought a knight who is brother to King Pelles,\nand overthrew him twice, for which he swore to be revenged on me through\nmy best friend, and so he wounded my son, who cannot be recovered till I\nhave that knight's blood, but he rideth through witchcraft always\ninvisibly, and I know not his name.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said Sir Balin, \"but I know him; his name is Garlon, and he hath\nslain two knights, companions of mine own, in the same fashion, and I\nwould rather than all the riches in this realm that I might meet him\nface to face.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said his host, \"let me now tell thee that King Pelles hath\nproclaimed in all the country a great festival, to be held at Listeniss,\nin twenty days from now, whereto no knight may come without a lady. At\nthat great feast we might perchance find out this Garlon, for many will\nbe there; and if it please thee we will set forth together.\"\n\nSo on the morrow they rode all three towards Listeniss, and traveled\nfifteen days, and reached it on the day the feast began. Then they\nalighted and stabled their horses, and went up to the castle, and Sir\nBalin's host was denied entrance, having no lady with him. But Sir Balin\nwas right heartily received, and taken to a chamber, where they unarmed\nhim, and dressed him in rich robes, of any color that he chose, and told\nhim he must lay aside his sword. This, however, he refused, and said,\n\"It is the custom of my country for a knight to keep his sword ever with\nhim; and if I may not keep it here, I will forthwith depart.\" Then they\ngave him leave to wear his sword. So he went to the great hall, and was\nset among knights of rank and worship, and his lady before him.\n\nSoon he found means to ask one who sat near him, \"Is there not here a\nknight whose name is Garlon?\"\n\n\"Yonder he goeth,\" said his neighbor, \"he with that black face; he is\nthe most marvelous knight alive, for he rideth invisibly, and destroyeth\nwhom he will.\"\n\n\"Ah, well,\" said Balin, drawing a long breath, \"is that indeed the man?\nI have aforetime heard of him.\"\n\nThen he mused long within himself, and thought, \"If I shall slay him\nhere and now, I shall not escape myself; but if I leave him,\nperadventure I shall never meet with him again at such advantage; and if\nhe live, how much more harm and mischief will he do!\"\n\nBut while he deeply thought, and cast his eyes from time to time upon\nSir Garlon, that false knight saw that he watched him, and thinking that\nhe could at such a time escape revenge, he came and smote Sir Balin on\nthe face with the back of his hand, and said, \"Knight, why dost thou so\nwatch me? be ashamed, and eat thy meat, and do that which thou camest\nfor.\"\n\n\"Thou sayest well,\" cried Sir Balin, rising fiercely; \"now will I\nstraightway do that which I came to do, as thou shalt find.\" With that\nhe whirled his sword aloft and struck him downright on the head, and\nclove his skull asunder to the shoulder.\n\n\"Give me the truncheon,\" cried out Sir Balin to his lady, \"wherewith he\nslew thy knight.\" And when she gave it him--for she had always carried\nit about with her, wherever she had gone--he smote him through the body\nwith it, and said, \"With that truncheon didst thou treacherously murder\na good knight, and now it sticketh in thy felon body.\"\n\nThen he called to the father of the wounded son, who had come with him\nto Listeniss, and said, \"Now take as much blood as thou wilt, to heal\nthy son withal.\"\n\nBut now arose a terrible confusion, and all the knights leaped from the\ntable to slay Balin, King Pelles himself the foremost, who cried out,\n\"Knight, thou hast slain my brother at my board; die, therefore, die,\nfor thou shalt never leave this castle.\"\n\n\"Slay me, thyself, then,\" shouted Balin.\n\n\"Yea,\" said the king, \"that will I! for no other man shall touch thee,\nfor the love I bear my brother.\"\n\nThen King Pelles caught in his hand a grim weapon and smote eagerly at\nBalin, but Balin put his sword between his head and the king's stroke,\nand saved himself but lost his sword, which fell down smashed and\nshivered into pieces by the blow. So being weaponless he ran to the next\nroom to find a sword, and so from room to room, with King Pelles after\nhim, he in vain ever eagerly casting his eyes round every place to find\nsome weapon.\n\nAt last he ran into a chamber wondrous richly decked, where was a bed\nall dressed with cloth of gold, the richest that could be thought of,\nand one who lay quite still within the bed; and by the bedside stood a\ntable of pure gold, borne on four silver pillars, and on the table\nstood a marvelous spear, strangely wrought.\n\nWhen Sir Balin saw the spear he seized it in his hand, and turned upon\nKing Pelles, and smote at him so fiercely and so sore that he dropped\nswooning to the ground.\n\nBut at that Dolorous and awful Stroke the castle rocked and rove\nthroughout, and all the walls fell crashed and breaking to the earth,\nand Balin himself fell also in their midst, struck as it were to stone,\nand powerless to move a hand or foot. And so three days he lay amidst\nthe ruins, until Merlin came and raised him up and brought him a good\nhorse, and bade him ride out of that land as swiftly as he could.\n\n\"May I not take the damsel with me I brought hither?\" said Sir Balin.\n\n\"Lo! where she lieth dead,\" said Merlin. \"Ah, little knowest thou, Sir\nBalin, what thou hast done; for in this castle and that chamber which\nthou didst defile, was the blood of our Lord Christ! and also that most\nholy cup--the Sangreal--wherefrom the wine was drunk at the last supper\nof our Lord. Joseph of Arimathea brought it to this land, when first he\ncame here to convert and save it. And on that bed of gold it was himself\nwho lay, and the strange spear beside him was the spear wherewith the\nsoldier Longus smote our Lord, which evermore had dripped with blood.\nKing Pelles is the nearest kin to Joseph in direct descent, wherefore he\nheld these holy things in trust; but now have they all gone at thy\ndolorous stroke, no man knoweth whither; and great is the damage to\nthis land, which until now hath been the happiest of all lands, for by\nthat stroke thou hast slain thousands, and by the loss and parting of\nthe Sangreal, the safety of this realm is put in peril, and its great\nhappiness is gone for evermore.\"\n\nThen Balin departed from Merlin, struck to his soul with grief and\nsorrow, and said, \"In this world shall we meet never more.\"\n\nSo he rode forth through the fair cities and the country, and found the\npeople lying dead on every side. And all the living cried out on him as\nhe passed, \"O Balin, all this misery hast thou done! For the dolorous\nstroke thou gavest King Pelles, three countries are destroyed, and doubt\nnot but revenge will fall on thee at last!\"\n\nWhen he had passed the boundary of those countries, he was somewhat\ncomforted, and rode eight days without adventure. Anon he came to a\ncross, whereon was written in letters of gold, \"It is not for a knight\nalone to ride towards this castle.\" Looking up, he saw a hoary ancient\nman come towards him, who said, \"Sir Balin le Savage, thou passest thy\nbounds this way; therefore turn back again, it will be best for thee;\"\nand with these words he vanished.\n\nThen did he hear a horn blow as it were the death-note of some hunted\nbeast. \"That blast,\" said Balin, \"is blown for me, for I am the prey;\nthough yet I be not dead.\" But as he spoke he saw a hundred ladies with\na great troop of knights come forth to meet him with bright faces and\ngreat welcome, who led him to the castle and made a great feast, with\ndancing and minstrelsy and all manner of joy.\n\nThen the chief lady of the castle said, \"Knight with the two swords,\nthou must encounter and fight with a knight hard by, who dwelleth on an\nisland, for no man may pass this way without encountering him.\"\n\n\"It is a grievous custom,\" answered Sir Balin.\n\n\"There is but one knight to defeat,\" replied the lady.\n\n\"Well,\" said Sir Balin, \"be it as thou wilt. I am ready and quite\nwilling, and though my horse and my body be full weary, yet is my heart\nnot weary, save of life. And truly I were glad if I might meet my\ndeath.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said one standing by, \"methinketh your shield is not good; I will\nlend you a bigger.\"\n\n\"I thank thee, sir,\" said Balin, and took the unknown shield and left\nhis own, and so rode forth, and put himself and horse into a boat and\ncame to the island.\n\nAs soon as he had landed, he saw come riding towards him, a knight\ndressed all in red, upon a horse trapped in the same color. When the red\nknight saw Sir Balin, and the two swords he wore, he thought it must\nhave been his brother (for the red knight was Sir Balan), but when he\nsaw the strange arms on his shield, he forgot the thought, and came\nagainst him fiercely. At the first course they overthrew each other, and\nboth lay swooning on the ground; but Sir Balin was the most hurt and\nbruised, for he was weary and spent with traveling. So Sir Balan rose\nup first to his feet and drew his sword, and Sir Balin painfully rose\nagainst him and raised his shield. Then Sir Balan smote him through the\nshield and brake his helmet; and Sir Balin, in return, smote at him with\nhis fated sword, and had wellnigh slain his brother. And so they fought\ntill their breaths failed.\n\nThen Sir Balin, looking up, saw all the castle towers stand full of\nladies. So they went again to battle, and wounded each other full sore,\nand paused, and breathed again, and then again began the fight; and this\nfor many times they did, till all the ground was red with blood. And by\nnow, each had full grievously wounded the other with seven great wounds,\nthe least of which might have destroyed the mightiest giant in the\nworld. But still they rose against each other, although their hauberks\nnow were all unnailed, and they smiting at each other's naked bodies\nwith their sharp swords. At the last, Sir Balan, the younger brother,\nwithdrew a little space and laid him down.\n\nThen said Sir Balin le Savage, \"What knight art thou? for never before\nhave I found a knight to match me thus.\"\n\n\"My name,\" said he, all faintly, \"is Balan, brother to the good knight\nSir Balin.\"\n\n\"Ah, God!\" cried Balin, \"that ever I should see this day!\" and therewith\nfell down backwards in a swoon.\n\nThen Sir Balan crept with pain upon his feet and hands, and put his\nbrother's helmet off his head, but could not know him by his face, it\nwas so hewed and bloody. But presently, when Sir Balin came to, he\nsaid, \"Oh! Balan, mine own brother, thou hast slain me, and I thee! All\nthe wide world saw never greater grief!\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said Sir Balan, \"that I ever saw this day; and through mishap\nalone I knew thee not, for when I saw thy two swords, if it had not been\nfor thy strange shield, I should have known thee for my brother.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said Balin, \"all this sorrow lieth at the door of one unhappy\nknight within the castle, who made me change my shield. If I might live,\nI would destroy that castle and its evil customs.\"\n\n\"It were well done,\" said Balan, \"for since I first came hither I have\nnever been able to depart, for here they made me fight with one who kept\nthis island, whom I slew, and by enchantment I might never quit it more;\nnor couldst thou, brother, hadst thou slain me, and escaped with thine\nown life.\"\n\nAnon came the lady of the castle, and when she heard their talk, and saw\ntheir evil case, she wrung her hands and wept bitterly. So Sir Balan\nprayed the lady of her gentleness that, for his true service, she would\nbury them both together in that place. This she granted, weeping full\nsore, and said it should be done right solemnly and richly, and in the\nnoblest manner possible. Then did they send for a priest, and received\nthe holy sacrament at his hands. And Balin said, \"Write over us upon our\ntomb, that here two brethren slew each other; then shall never good\nknight or pilgrim pass this way but he will pray for both our souls.\"\nAnd anon Sir Balan died, but Sir Balin died not till the midnight after;\nand then they both were buried.\n\nOn the morrow of their death came Merlin, and took Sir Balin's sword and\nfixed on it a new pommel, and set it in a mighty stone, which then, by\nmagic, he made float upon the water. And so, for many years, it floated\nto and fro around the island, till it swam down the river to Camelot,\nwhere young Sir Galahad achieved it, as shall be told hereafter.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nTHE MARRIAGE OF ARTHUR AND GUINEVERE AND THE FOUNDING OF THE ROUND TABLE\n\n\nIt befell upon a certain day, that King Arthur said to Merlin, \"My lords\nand knights do daily pray me now to take a wife; but I will have none\nwithout thy counsel, for thou hast ever helped me since I came first to\nthis crown.\"\n\n\"It is well,\" said Merlin, \"that thou shouldst take a wife, for no man\nof bounteous and noble nature should live without one; but is there any\nlady whom thou lovest better than another?\"\n\n\"Yea,\" said King Arthur, \"I love Guinevere, the daughter of King\nLeodegrance, of Camelgard, who also holdeth in his house the Round Table\nthat he had from my father Uther; and as I think, that damsel is the\ngentlest and the fairest lady living.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" answered Merlin, \"as for her beauty, she is one of the fairest\nthat do live; but if ye had not loved her as ye do, I would fain have\nhad ye choose some other who was both fair and good. But where a man's\nheart is set, he will be loth to leave.\" This Merlin said, knowing the\nmisery that should hereafter happen from this marriage.\n\nThen King Arthur sent word to King Leodegrance that he mightily desired\nto wed his daughter, and how that he had loved her since he saw her\nfirst, when with Kings Ban and Bors he rescued Leodegrance from King\nRyence of North Wales.\n\nWhen King Leodegrance heard the message, he cried out, \"These be the\nbest tidings I have heard in all my life--so great and worshipful a\nprince to seek my daughter for his wife! I would fain give him half my\nlands with her straightway, but that he needeth none--and better will it\nplease him that I send him the Round Table of King Uther, his father,\nwith a hundred good knights towards the furnishing of it with guests,\nfor he will soon find means to gather more, and make the table full.\"\n\nThen King Leodegrance delivered his daughter Guinevere to the messengers\nof King Arthur, and also the Round Table with the hundred knights.\n\nSo they rode royally and freshly, sometimes by water and sometimes by\nland, towards Camelot. And as they rode along in the spring weather,\nthey made full many sports and pastimes. And, in all those sports and\ngames, a young knight lately come to Arthur's, court, Sir Lancelot by\nname, was passing strong, and won praise from all, being full of grace\nand hardihood; and Guinevere also ever looked on him with joy. And\nalways in the eventide, when the tents were set beside some stream or\nforest, many minstrels came and sang before the knights and ladies as\nthey sat in the tent-doors, and many knights would tell adventures; and\nstill Sir Lancelot was foremost, and told the knightliest tales, and\nsang the goodliest songs, of all the company.\n\nAnd when they came to Camelot, King Arthur made great joy, and all the\ncity with him; and riding forth with a great retinue he met Guinevere\nand her company, and led her through the streets all filled with people,\nand in the midst of all their shoutings and the ringing of church bells,\nto a palace hard by his own.\n\nThen, in all haste, the king commanded to prepare the marriage and the\ncoronation with the stateliest and most honorable pomp that could be\nmade. And when the day was come, the archbishops led the king to the\ncathedral, whereto he walked, clad in his royal robes, and having four\nkings, bearing four golden swords, before him; a choir of passing sweet\nmusic going also with him.\n\nIn another part, was the queen dressed in her richest ornaments, and led\nby archbishops and bishops to the Chapel of the Virgins, the four queens\nalso of the four kings last mentioned walked before her, bearing four\nwhite doves, according to ancient custom; and after her there followed\nmany damsels, singing and making every sign of joy.\n\nAnd when the two processions were come to the churches, so wondrous was\nthe music and the singing, that all the knights and barons who were\nthere pressed on each other, as in the crowd of battle, to hear and see\nthe most they might.\n\nWhen the king was crowned, he called together all the knights that came\nwith the Round Table from Camelgard, and twenty-eight others, great and\nvaliant men, chosen by Merlin out of all the realm, towards making up\nthe full number of the table. Then the Archbishop of Canterbury blessed\nthe seats of all the knights, and when they rose again therefrom to pay\ntheir homage to King Arthur, there was found upon the back of each\nknight's seat his name, written in letters of gold. But upon one seat\nwas found written, \"This is the Siege Perilous, wherein if any man shall\nsit save him whom Heaven hath chosen, he shall be devoured by fire.\"\n\nAnon came young Gawain, the king's nephew, praying to be made a knight,\nwhom the king knighted then and there. Soon after came a poor man,\nleading with him a tall fair lad of eighteen years of age, riding on a\nlean mare. And falling at the king's feet, the poor man said, \"Lord, it\nwas told me, that at this time of thy marriage thou wouldst give to any\nman the gift he asked for, so it were not unreasonable.\"\n\n\"That is the truth,\" replied King Arthur, \"and I will make it good.\"\n\n\"Thou sayest graciously and nobly,\" said the poor man. \"Lord, I ask\nnothing else but that thou wilt make my son here a knight.\"\n\n\"It is a great thing that thou askest,\" said the king. \"What is thy\nname?\"\n\n\"Aries, the cowherd,\" answered he.\n\n\"Cometh this prayer from thee or from thy son?\" inquired King Arthur.\n\n\"Nay, lord, not from myself,\" said he, \"but from him only, for I have\nthirteen other sons, and all of them will fall to any labor that I put\nthem to. But this one will do no such work for anything that I or my\nwife may do, but is for ever shooting or fighting, and running to see\nknights and joustings, and torments me both night and day that he be\nmade a knight.\"\n\n\"What is thy name?\" said the king to the young man.\n\n\"My name is Tor,\" said he.\n\nThen the king, looking at him steadfastly, was well pleased with his\nface and figure, and with his look of nobleness and strength.\n\n\"Fetch all thy other sons before me,\" said the king to Aries. But when\nhe brought them, none of them resembled Tor in size or shape or feature.\n\nThen the king knighted Tor, saying, \"Be thou to thy life's end a good\nknight and a true, as I pray God thou mayest be; and if thou provest\nworthy, and of prowess, one day thou shalt be counted in the Round\nTable.\" Then turning to Merlin, Arthur said, \"Prophesy now, O Merlin,\nshall Sir Tor become a worthy knight, or not?\"\n\n\"Yea, lord,\" said Merlin, \"so he ought to be, for he is the son of that\nKing Pellinore whom thou hast met, and proved to be one of the best\nknights living. He is no cowherd's son.\"\n\nPresently after came in King Pellinore, and when he saw Sir Tor he knew\nhim for his son, and was more pleased than words can tell to find him\nknighted by the king. And Pellinore did homage to King Arthur, and was\ngladly and graciously accepted of the king; and then was led by Merlin\nto a high seat at the Table Round, near to the Perilous Seat.\n\nBut Sir Gawain was full of anger at the honor done King Pellinore, and\nsaid to his brother Gaheris, \"He slew our father, King Lot, therefore\nwill I slay him.\"\n\n\"Do it not yet,\" said he; \"wait till I also be a knight, then will I\nhelp ye in it: it is best ye suffer him to go at this time, and not\ntrouble this high feast with blood-shed.\"\n\n\"As ye will, be it,\" said Sir Gawain.\n\nThen rose the king and spake to all the Table Round, and charged them to\nbe ever true and noble knights, to do neither outrage nor murder, nor\nany unjust violence, and always to flee treason; also by no means ever\nto be cruel, but give mercy unto him that asked for mercy, upon pain of\nforfeiting the liberty of his court forevermore. Moreover, at all times,\non pain of death, to give all succor unto ladies and young damsels; and\nlastly, never to take part in any wrongful quarrel, for reward or\npayment. And to all this he swore them knight by knight.\n\nThen he ordained that, every year at Pentecost, they should all come\nbefore him, wheresoever he might appoint a place, and give account of\nall their doings and adventures of the past twelve-month. And so, with\nprayer and blessing, and high words of cheer, he instituted the most\nnoble order of the Round Table, whereto the best and bravest knights in\nall the world sought afterwards to find admission.\n\nThen was the high feast made ready, and the king and queen sat side by\nside, before the whole assembly; and great and royal was the banquet and\nthe pomp.\n\nAnd as they sat, each man in his place, Merlin went round and said, \"Sit\nstill awhile, for ye shall see a strange and marvelous adventure.\"\n\nSo as they sat, there suddenly came running through the hall, a white\nhart, with a white hound next after him, and thirty couple of black\nrunning hounds, making full cry; and the hart made circuit of the Table\nRound, and past the other tables; and suddenly the white hound flew upon\nhim and bit him fiercely, and tore out a piece from his haunch. Whereat\nthe hart sprang suddenly with a great leap, and overthrew a knight\nsitting at the table, who rose forthwith, and, taking up the hound,\nmounted, and rode fast away.\n\nBut no sooner had he left, than there came in a lady, mounted on a white\npalfrey, who cried out to the king, \"Lord, suffer me not to have this\ninjury!--the hound is mine which that knight taketh.\" And as she spake,\na knight rode in all armed, on a great horse, and suddenly took up the\nlady and rode away with her by force, although she greatly cried and\nmoaned.\n\nThen the king desired Sir Gawain, Sir Tor, and King Pellinore to mount\nand follow this adventure to the uttermost; and told Sir Gawain to bring\nback the hart, Sir Tor the hound and knight, and King Pellinore the\nknight and the lady.\n\nSo Sir Gawain rode forth at a swift pace, and with him Gaheris, his\nbrother, for a squire. And as they went, they saw two knights fighting\non horseback, and when they reached them they divided them and asked the\nreason of their quarrel. \"We fight for a foolish matter,\" one replied,\n\"for we be brethren; but there came by a white hart this way, chased by\nmany hounds, and thinking it was an adventure for the high feast of King\nArthur, I would have followed it to have gained worship; whereat my\nyounger brother here declared he was the better knight and would go\nafter it instead, and so we fight to prove which of us be the better\nknight.\"\n\n\"This is a foolish thing,\" said Sir Gawain. \"Fight with all strangers,\nif ye will, but not brother with brother. Take my advice, set on against\nme, and if ye yield to me, as I shall do my best to make ye, ye shall go\nto King Arthur and yield ye to his grace.\"\n\n\"Sir knight,\" replied the brothers, \"we are weary, and will do thy wish\nwithout encountering thee; but by whom shall we tell the king that we\nwere sent?\"\n\n\"By the knight that followeth the quest of the white hart,\" said Sir\nGawain. \"And now tell me your names, and let us part.\"\n\n\"Sorlous and Brian of the Forest,\" they replied; and so they went their\nway to the king's court.\n\nThen Sir Gawain, still following his quest by the distant baying of the\nhounds, came to a great river, and saw the hart swimming over and near\nto the further bank. And as he was about to plunge in and swim after, he\nsaw a knight upon the other side, who cried, \"Come not over here, Sir\nknight, after that hart, save thou wilt joust with me.\"\n\n\"I will not fail for that,\" said Sir Gawain; and swam his horse across\nthe stream.\n\nAnon they got their spears, and ran against each other fiercely; and Sir\nGawain smote the stranger off his horse, and turning, bade him yield.\n\n\"Nay,\" replied he, \"not so; for though ye have the better of me on\nhorseback, I pray thee, valiant knight, alight, and let us match\ntogether with our swords on foot.\"\n\n\"What is thy name?\" quoth Gawain.\n\n\"Allardin of the Isles,\" replied the stranger.\n\nThen they fell on each other; but soon Sir Gawain struck him through the\nhelm, so deeply and so hard, that all his brains were scattered, and Sir\nAllardin fell dead. \"Ah,\" said Gaheris, \"that was a mighty stroke for a\nyoung knight!\"\n\nThen did they turn again to follow the white hart, and let slip three\ncouple of greyhounds after him; and at the last they chased him to a\ncastle, and there they overtook and slew him, in the chief courtyard.\n\nAt that there rushed a knight forth from a chamber, with a drawn sword\nin his hand, and slew two of the hounds before their eyes, and chased\nthe others from the castle, crying, \"Oh, my white hart! alas, that thou\nart dead! for thee my sovereign lady gave to me, and evil have I kept\nthee; but if I live, thy death shall be dear bought.\" Anon he went\nwithin and armed, and came out fiercely, and met Sir Gawain face to\nface.\n\n\"Why have ye slain my hounds?\" said Sir Gawain; \"they did but after\ntheir nature: and ye had better have taken vengeance on me than on the\npoor dumb beasts.\"\n\n\"I will avenge me on thee, also,\" said the other, \"ere thou depart this\nplace.\"\n\nThen did they fight with each other savagely and madly, till the blood\nran down to their feet. But at last Sir Gawain had the better, and\nfelled the knight of the castle to the ground. Then he cried out for\nmercy, and yielded to Sir Gawain, and besought him as he was a knight\nand gentleman to save his life. \"Thou shalt die,\" said Sir Gawain, \"for\nslaying my hounds.\"\n\n\"I will make thee all amends within my power,\" replied the knight.\n\nBut Sir Gawain would have no mercy, and unlaced his helm to strike his\nhead off; and so blind was he with rage, that he saw not where a lady\nran out from her chamber and fell down upon his enemy. And making a\nfierce blow at him, he smote off by mischance the lady's head.\n\n\"Alas!\" cried Gaheris, \"foully and shamefully have ye done--the shame\nshall never leave ye! Why give ye not your mercy unto them that ask it?\na knight without mercy is without worship also.\"\n\nThen Sir Gawain was sore amazed at that fair lady's death, and knew not\nwhat to do, and said to the fallen knight, \"Arise, for I will give thee\nmercy.\"\n\n\"Nay, nay,\" said he, \"I care not for thy mercy now, for thou hast slain\nmy lady and my love--that of all earthly things I loved the best.\"\n\n\"I repent me sorely of it,\" said Sir Gawain, \"for I meant to have struck\nthee: but now shalt thou go to King Arthur and tell him this adventure,\nand how thou hast been overcome by the knight that followeth the quest\nof the white hart.\"\n\n\"I care not whether I live or die, or where I go,\" replied the knight.\n\nSo Sir Gawain sent him to the court to Camelot, making him bear one dead\ngreyhound before and one behind him on his horse. \"Tell me thy name\nbefore we part,\" said he.\n\n\"My name is Athmore of the Marsh,\" he answered.\n\nThen went Sir Gawain into the castle, and prepared to sleep there and\nbegan to unarm; but Gaheris upbraided him, saying, \"Will ye disarm in\nthis strange country? bethink ye, ye must needs have many enemies\nabout.\"\n\nNo sooner had he spoken than there came out suddenly four knights, well\narmed, and assailed them hard, saying to Sir Gawain, \"Thou new-made\nknight, how hast thou shamed thy knighthood! a knight without mercy is\ndishonored! Slayer of fair ladies, shame to thee evermore! Doubt not\nthou shalt thyself have need of mercy ere we leave thee.\"\n\nThen were the brothers in great jeopardy, and feared for their lives,\nfor they were but two to four, and weary with traveling; and one of the\nfour knights shot Sir Gawain with a bolt, and hit him through the arm,\nso that he could fight no more. But when there was nothing left for them\nbut death, there came four ladies forth and prayed the four knights'\nmercy for the strangers. So they gave Sir Gawain and Gaheris their\nlives, and made them yield themselves prisoners.\n\nOn the morrow, came one of the ladies to Sir Gawain, and talked with\nhim, saying, \"Sir knight, what cheer?\"\n\n\"Not good,\" said he.\n\n\"It is your own default, sir,\" said the lady, \"for ye have done a\npassing foul deed in slaying that fair damsel yesterday--and ever shall\nit be great shame to you. But ye be not of King Arthur's kin.\"\n\n\"Yea, truly am I,\" said he; \"my name is Gawain, son of King Lot of\nOrkney, whom King Pellinore slew--and my mother, Belisent, is\nhalf-sister to the king.\"\n\nWhen the lady heard that, she went and presently got leave for him to\nquit the castle; and they gave him the head of the white hart to take\nwith him, because it was in his quest; but made him also carry the dead\nlady with him--her head hung round his neck and her body lay before him\non his horse's neck.\n\nSo in that fashion he rode back to Camelot; and when the king and queen\nsaw him, and heard tell of his adventures, they were heavily displeased,\nand, by order of the queen, he was put upon his trial before a court of\nladies--who judged him to be evermore, for all his life, the knight of\nladies' quarrels, and to fight always on their side, and never against\nany, except he fought for one lady and his adversary for another; also\nthey charged him never to refuse mercy to him that asked it, and swore\nhim to it on the Holy Gospels. Thus ended the adventure of the white\nhart.\n\nMeanwhile, Sir Tor had made him ready, and followed the knight who rode\naway with the hound. And as he went, there suddenly met him in the road\na dwarf, who struck his horse so viciously upon the head with a great\nstaff, that he leaped backwards a spear's length.\n\n\"Wherefore so smitest thou my horse, foul dwarf?\" shouted Sir Tor.\n\n\"Because thou shalt not pass this way,\" replied the dwarf, \"unless thou\nfight for it with yonder knights in those pavilions,\" pointing to two\ntents, where two great spears stood out, and two shields hung upon two\ntrees hard by.\n\n\"I may not tarry, for I am on a quest I needs must follow,\" said Sir\nTor.\n\n\"Thou shalt not pass,\" replied the dwarf, and therewith blew his horn.\nThen rode out quickly at Sir Tor one armed on horseback, but Sir Tor was\nquick as he, and riding at him bore him from his horse, and made him\nyield. Directly after came another still more fiercely, but with a few\ngreat strokes and buffets Sir Tor unhorsed him also, and sent them both\nto Camelot to King Arthur. Then came the dwarf and begged Sir Tor to\ntake him in his service, \"for,\" said he, \"I will serve no more recreant\nknights.\"\n\n\"Take then a horse, and come with me,\" said Tor.\n\n\"Ride ye after the knight with the white hound?\" said the dwarf; \"I can\nsoon bring ye where he is.\"\n\nSo they rode through the forest till they came to two more tents. And\nSir Tor alighting, went into the first, and saw three damsels lie there,\nsleeping. Then went he to the other, and found another lady also\nsleeping, and at her feet the white hound he sought for, which instantly\nbegan to bay and bark so loudly, that the lady woke. But Sir Tor had\nseized the hound and given it to the dwarf's charge.\n\n\"What will ye do, Sir knight?\" cried out the lady; \"will ye take away my\nhound from me by force?\"\n\n\"Yea, lady,\" said Sir Tor; \"for so I must, having the king's command;\nand I have followed it from King Arthur's court, at Camelot, to this\nplace.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the lady, \"ye will not go far before ye be ill handled, and\nwill repent ye of the quest.\"\n\n\"I shall cheerfully abide whatsoever adventure cometh, by the grace of\nGod,\" said Sir Tor; and so mounted his horse and began to ride back on\nhis way. But night coming on, he turned aside to a hermitage that was in\nthe forest, and there abode till the next day, making but sorrowful\ncheer of such poor food as the hermit had to give him, and hearing a\nMass devoutly before he left on the morrow.\n\nAnd in the early morning, as he rode forth with the dwarf towards\nCamelot, he heard a knight call loudly after him, \"Turn, turn! Abide,\nSir knight, and yield me up the hound thou tookest from my lady.\" At\nwhich he turned, and saw a great and strong knight, armed full\nsplendidly, riding down upon him fiercely through a glade of the forest.\n\nNow Sir Tor was very ill provided, for he had but an old courser, which\nwas as weak as himself, because of the hermit's scanty fare. He waited,\nnevertheless, for the strange knight to come, and at the first onset\nwith their spears, each unhorsed the other, and then fell to with their\nswords like two mad lions. Then did they smite through one another's\nshields and helmets till the fragments flew on all sides, and their\nblood ran out in streams; but yet they carved and rove through the thick\narmor of the hauberks, and gave each other great and ghastly wounds. But\nin the end, Sir Tor, finding the strange knight faint, doubled his\nstrokes until he beat him to the earth. Then did he bid him yield to his\nmercy.\n\n\"That will I not,\" replied Abellius, \"while my life lasteth and my soul\nis in my body, unless thou give me first the hound.\"\n\n\"I cannot,\" said Sir Tor, \"and will not, for it was my quest to bring\nagain that hound and thee unto King Arthur, or otherwise to slay thee.\"\n\nWith that there came a damsel riding on a palfrey, as fast as she could\ndrive, and cried out to Sir Tor with a loud voice, \"I pray thee, for\nKing Arthur's love, give me a gift.\"\n\n\"Ask,\" said Sir Tor, \"and I will give thee.\"\n\n\"Gramercy,\" said the lady, \"I ask the head of this false knight\nAbellius, the most outrageous murderer that liveth.\"\n\n\"I repent me of the gift I promised,\" said Sir Tor. \"Let him make thee\namends for all his trespasses against thee.\"\n\n\"He cannot make amends,\" replied the damsel, \"for he hath slain my\nbrother, a far better knight than he, and scorned to give him mercy,\nthough I kneeled for half an hour before him in the mire, to beg it, and\nthough it was but by a chance they fought, and for no former injury or\nquarrel. I require my gift of thee as a true knight, or else will I\nshame thee in King Arthur's court; for this Abellius is the falsest\nknight alive, and a murderer of many.\"\n\nWhen Abellius heard this, he trembled greatly, and was sore afraid, and\nyielded to Sir Tor, and prayed his mercy.\n\n\"I cannot now, Sir knight,\" said he, \"lest I be false to my promise. Ye\nwould not take my mercy when I offered it; and now it is too late.\"\n\nTherewith he unlaced his helmet, and took it off; but Abellius, in\ndismal fear, struggled to his feet, and fled, until Sir Tor overtook\nhim, and smote off his head entirely with one blow.\n\n\"Now, sir,\" said the damsel, \"it is near night, I pray ye come and lodge\nat my castle hard by.\"\n\n\"I will, with a good will,\" said he, for both his horse and he had fared\nbut poorly since they left Camelot.\n\nSo he went to the lady's castle and fared sumptuously, and saw her\nhusband, an old knight, who greatly thanked him for his service, and\nurged him oftentimes to come again.\n\nOn the morrow he departed, and reached Camelot by noon, where the king\nand queen rejoiced to see him, and the king made him Earl; and Merlin\nprophesied that these adventures were but little to the things he should\nachieve hereafter.\n\nNow while Sir Gawain and Sir Tor had fulfilled their quests, King\nPellinore pursued the lady whom the knight had seized away from the\nwedding-feast. And as he rode through the woods, he saw in a valley a\nfair young damsel sitting by a well-side, and a wounded knight lying in\nher arms, and King Pellinore saluted her as he passed by.\n\nAs soon as she perceived him she cried out, \"Help, help me, knight, for\nour Lord's sake!\" But Pellinore was far too eager in his quest to stay\nor turn, although she cried a hundred times to him for help; at which\nshe prayed to heaven he might have such sore need before he died as she\nhad now. And presently thereafter her knight died in her arms; and she,\nfor grief and love, slew herself with his sword.\n\nBut King Pellinore rode on till he met a poor man, and asked him had he\nseen a knight pass by that way, leading by force a lady with him.\n\n\"Yea, surely,\" said the man, \"and greatly did she moan and cry; but even\nnow another knight is fighting with him to deliver the lady; ride on and\nthou shalt find them fighting still.\"\n\nAt that King Pellinore rode swiftly on, and came to where he saw the two\nknights fighting, hard by where two pavilions stood. And when he looked\nin one of them, he saw the lady that was his quest, and with her the two\nsquires of the two knights who fought.\n\n\"Fair lady,\" said he, \"ye must come with me unto King Arthur's court.\"\n\n\"Sir knight,\" said the two squires, \"yonder be two knights fighting for\nthis lady; go part them, and get their consent to take her, ere thou\ntouch her.\"\n\n\"Ye say well,\" said King Pellinore, and rode between the combatants, and\nasked them why they fought.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" said the one, \"yon lady is my cousin, mine aunt's\ndaughter, whom I met borne away against her will, by this knight here,\nwith whom I therefore fight to free her.\"\n\n\"Sir knight,\" replied the other, whose name was Hantzlake of Wentland,\n\"this lady got I, by my arms and prowess, at King Arthur's court\nto-day.\"\n\n\"That is false,\" said King Pellinore; \"ye stole the lady suddenly, and\nfled away with her, before any knight could arm to stay thee. But it is\nmy service to take her back again. Neither of ye shall therefore have\nher; but if ye will fight for her, fight with me now and here.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the knights, \"make ready, and we will assail thee with all\nour might.\"\n\nThen Sir Hantzlake ran King Pellinore's horse through with his sword, so\nthat they might be all alike on foot. But King Pellinore at that was\npassing wroth, and ran upon Sir Hantzlake, with a cry, \"Keep well thy\nhead!\" and gave him such a stroke upon the helm as clove him to the\nchin, so that he fell dead to the ground. When he saw that, the other\nknight refused to fight, and kneeling down said, \"Take my cousin the\nlady with thee, as thy quest is; but as thou art a true knight, suffer\nher to come to neither shame nor harm.\"\n\nSo the next day King Pellinore departed for Camelot, and took the lady\nwith him; and as they rode in a valley full of rough stones, the\ndamsel's horse stumbled and threw her, so that her arms were sorely\nbruised and hurt. And as they rested in the forest for the pain to\nlessen, night came on, and there they were compelled to make their\nlodging. A little before midnight they heard the trotting of a horse.\n\"Be ye still,\" said King Pellinore, \"for now we may hear of some\nadventure,\" and therewith he armed her. Then he heard two knights meet\nand salute each other, in the dark; one riding from Camelot, the other\nfrom the north.\n\n\"What tidings at Camelot?\" said one.\n\n\"By my head,\" said the other, \"I have but just left there, and have\nespied King Arthur's court, and such a fellowship is there as never may\nbe broke or overcome; for wellnigh all the chivalry of the world is\nthere, and all full loyal to the king, and now I ride back homewards to\nthe north to tell our chiefs, that they waste not their strength in wars\nagainst him.\"\n\n\"As for all that,\" replied the other knight, \"I am but now from the\nnorth, and bear with me a remedy, the deadliest poison that ever was\nheard tell of, and to Camelot will I with it; for there we have a friend\nclose to the king, and greatly cherished of him, who hath received gifts\nfrom us to poison him, as he hath promised soon to do.\"\n\n\"Beware,\" said the first knight, \"of Merlin, for he knoweth all things,\nby the devil's craft.\"\n\n\"I will not fear for that,\" replied the other, and so rode on his way.\n\nAnon King Pellinore and the lady passed on again; and when they came to\nthe well at which the lady with the wounded knight had sat, they found\nboth knight and damsel utterly devoured by lions and wild beasts, all\nsave the lady's head.\n\nWhen King Pellinore saw that, he wept bitterly, saying, \"Alas! I might\nhave saved her life had I but tarried a few moments in my quest.\"\n\n\"Wherefore make so much sorrow now?\" said the lady.\n\n\"I know not,\" answered he, \"but my heart grieveth greatly for this poor\nlady's death, so fair she was and young.\"\n\nThen he required a hermit to bury the remains of the bodies, and bare\nthe lady's head with him to Camelot, to the court.\n\nWhen he was arrived, he was sworn to tell the truth of his quest before\nthe King and Queen, and when he had entered the Queen somewhat upbraided\nhim, saying, \"Ye were much to blame that ye saved not that lady's life.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said he, \"I shall repent it all my life.\"\n\n\"Ay, king,\" quoth Merlin, who suddenly came in, \"and so ye ought to do,\nfor that lady was your daughter, not seen since infancy by thee. And she\nwas on her way to court, with a right good young knight, who would have\nbeen her husband, but was slain by treachery of a felon knight, Lorraine\nle Savage, as they came; and because thou wouldst not abide and help\nher, thy best friend shall fail thee in thine hour of greatest need, for\nsuch is the penance ordained thee for that deed.\"\n\nThen did King Pellinore tell Merlin secretly of the treason he had heard\nin the forest, and Merlin by his craft so ordered that the knight who\nbare the poison was himself soon after slain by it, and so King Arthur's\nlife was saved.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nTHE ADVENTURE OF ARTHUR AND SIR ACCOLON OF GAUL\n\n\nBeing now happily married, King Arthur for a season took his pleasure,\nwith great tournaments, and jousts, and huntings. So once upon a time\nthe king and many of his knights rode hunting in a forest, and Arthur,\nKing Urience, and Sir Accolon of Gaul, followed after a great hart, and\nbeing all three well mounted, they chased so fast that they outsped\ntheir company, and left them many miles behind; but riding still as\nrapidly as they could go, at length their horses fell dead under them.\nThen being all three on foot, and seeing the stag not far before them,\nvery weary and nigh spent--\"What shall we do,\" said King Arthur, \"for we\nare hard bested?\" \"Let us go on afoot,\" said King Urience, \"till we can\nfind some lodging.\" At that they saw the stag lying upon the bank of a\ngreat lake, with a hound springing at his throat, and many other hounds\ntrooping towards him. So, running forward, Arthur blew the death-note on\nhis horn, and slew the hart. Then lifting up his eyes he saw before him\non the lake a barge, all draped down to the water's edge, with silken\nfolds and curtains, which swiftly came towards him, and touched upon\nthe sands; but when he went up close and looked in, he saw no earthly\ncreature. Then he cried out to his companions, \"Sirs, come ye hither,\nand let us see what there is in this ship.\" So they all three went in,\nand found it everywhere throughout furnished, and hung with rich\ndraperies of silk and gold.\n\nBy this time eventide had come, when suddenly a hundred torches were set\nup on all sides of the barge, and gave a dazzling light, and at the same\ntime came forth twelve fair damsels, and saluted King Arthur by his\nname, kneeling on their knees, and telling him that he was welcome, and\nshould have their noblest cheer, for which the king thanked them\ncourteously. Then did they lead him and his fellows to a splendid\nchamber, where was a table spread with all the richest furniture, and\ncostliest wines and viands; and there they served them with all kinds of\nwines and meats, till Arthur wondered at the splendor of the feast,\ndeclaring he had never in his life supped better, or more royally. After\nsupper they led him to another chamber, than which he had never beheld a\nricher, where he was left to rest. King Urience, also, and Sir Accolon\nwere each conducted into rooms of like magnificence. And so they all\nthree fell asleep, and being very weary slept deeply all that night.\n\nBut when the morning broke, King Urience found himself in his own house\nin Camelot, he knew not how; and Arthur awaking found himself in a dark\ndungeon, and heard around him nothing but the groans of woeful knights,\nprisoners like himself. Then said King Arthur, \"Who are ye, thus\ngroaning and complaining?\" And some one answered him, \"Alas, we be all\nprisoners, even twenty good knights, and some of us have lain here seven\nyears--some more--nor seen the light of day for all that time.\" \"For\nwhat cause?\" said King Arthur. \"Know ye not then yourself?\" they\nanswered--\"we will soon tell you. The lord of this strong castle is Sir\nDamas, and is the falsest and most traitorous knight that liveth; and he\nhath a younger brother, a good and noble knight, whose name is Outzlake.\nThis traitor Damas, although passing rich, will give his brother nothing\nof his wealth, and save what Outzlake keepeth to himself by force, he\nhath no share of the inheritance. He owneth, nevertheless, one fair rich\nmanor, whereupon he liveth, loved of all men far and near. But Damas is\nas altogether hated as his brother is beloved, for he is merciless and\ncowardly: and now for many years there hath been war between these\nbrothers, and Sir Outzlake evermore defieth Damas to come forth and\nfight with him, body to body, for the inheritance; and if he be too\ncowardly, to find some champion knight that will fight for him. And\nDamas hath agreed to find some champion, but never yet hath found a\nknight to take his evil cause in hand, or wager battle for him. So with\na strong band of men-at-arms he lieth ever in ambush, and taketh captive\nevery passing knight who may unwarily go near and bringeth him into this\ncastle, and desireth him either to fight Sir Outzlake, or to lie for\nevermore indurance. And thus hath he dealt with all of us, for we all\nscorned to take up such a cause for such a false foul knight--but rather\none by one came here, where many a good knight hath died of hunger and\ndisease. But if one of us would fight, Sir Damas would deliver all the\nrest.\"\n\n\"God of his mercy send you deliverance,\" said King Arthur, and sat\nturning in his mind how all these things should end, and how he might\nhimself gain freedom for so many noble hearts.\n\nAnon there came a damsel to the king, saying, \"Sir, if thou wilt fight\nfor my lord thou shalt be delivered out of prison, but else nevermore\nshalt thou escape with thy life.\" \"Nay,\" said King Arthur, \"that is but\na hard choice, yet had I rather fight than die in prison, and if I may\ndeliver not myself alone, but all these others, I will do the battle.\"\n\"Yea,\" said the damsel, \"it shall be even so.\" \"Then,\" said King Arthur,\n\"I am ready now, if but I had a horse and armor.\" \"Fear not,\" said she,\n\"that shalt thou have presently, and shalt lack nothing proper for the\nfight.\" \"Have I not seen thee,\" said the king, \"at King Arthur's court?\nfor it seemeth that thy face is known to me.\" \"Nay,\" said the damsel, \"I\nwas never there; I am Sir Damas' daughter, and have never been but a\nday's journey from this castle.\" But she spoke falsely, for she was one\nof the damsels of Morgan le Fay, the great enchantress, who was King\nArthur's half-sister.\n\nWhen Sir Damas knew that there had been at length a knight found who\nwould fight for him, he sent for Arthur, and finding him a man so tall\nand strong, and straight of limb, he was passingly well pleased, and\nmade a covenant with him, that he should fight unto the uttermost for\nhis cause, and that all the other knights should be delivered. And when\nthey were sworn to each other on the Holy Gospels, all those imprisoned\nknights were straightway led forth and delivered, but abode there one\nand all to see the battle.\n\nIn the meanwhile there had happened to Sir Accolon of Gaul a strange\nadventure; for when he awoke from his deep sleep upon the silken barge,\nhe found himself upon the edge of a deep well, and in instant peril of\nfalling thereinto. Whereat, leaping up in great affright, he crossed\nhimself and cried aloud, \"May God preserve my lord King Arthur and King\nUrience, for those damsels in the ship have betrayed us, and were\ndoubtless devils and no women; and if I may escape this misadventure, I\nwill certainly destroy them wheresoever I may find them.\" With that\nthere came to him a dwarf with a great mouth, and a flat nose, and\nsaluted him, saying that he came from Queen Morgan le Fay. \"And she\ngreeteth you well,\" said he, \"and biddeth you be strong of heart, for\nto-morrow you shall do battle with a strange knight, and therefore she\nhath sent you here Excalibur, King Arthur's sword, and the scabbard\nlikewise. And she desireth you as you do love her to fight this battle\nto the uttermost, and without any mercy, as you have promised her you\nwould fight when she should require it of you; and she will make a rich\nqueen forever of any damsel that shall bring her that knight's head\nwith whom you are to fight.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Sir Accolon, \"tell you my lady Queen Morgan, that I shall\nhold to that I promised her, now that I have this sword--and,\" said he,\n\"I suppose it was to bring about this battle that she made all these\nenchantments by her craft.\" \"You have guessed rightly,\" said the dwarf,\nand therewithal he left him.\n\nThen came a knight and lady, and six squires, to Sir Accolon, and took\nhim to a manor house hard by, and gave him noble cheer; and the house\nbelonged to Sir Outzlake, the brother of Sir Damas, for so had Morgan le\nFay contrived with her enchantments. Now Sir Outzlake himself was at\nthat time sorely wounded and disabled, having been pierced through both\nhis thighs by a spear-thrust. When, therefore, Sir Damas sent down\nmessengers to his brother, bidding him make ready by to-morrow morning,\nand be in the field to fight with a good knight, for that he had found a\nchampion ready to do battle at all points, Sir Outzlake was sorely\nannoyed and distressed, for he knew he had small chance of victory,\nwhile yet he was disabled by his wounds; notwithstanding, he determined\nto take the battle in hand, although he was so weak that he must needs\nbe lifted to his saddle. But when Sir Accolon of Gaul heard this, he\nsent a message to Sir Outzlake offering to take the battle in his stead,\nwhich cheered Sir Outzlake mightily, who thanked Sir Accolon with all\nhis heart, and joyfully accepted him.\n\nSo, on the morrow, King Arthur was armed and well horsed, and asked Sir\nDamas, \"When shall we go to the field?\" \"Sir,\" said Sir Damas, \"you\nshall first hear mass.\" And when mass was done, there came a squire on a\ngreat horse, and asked Sir Damas if his knight were ready, \"for our\nknight is already in the field.\" Then King Arthur mounted on horseback,\nand there around were all the knights, and barons, and people of the\ncountry; and twelve of them were chosen to wait upon the two knights who\nwere about to fight. And as King Arthur sat on horseback, there came a\ndamsel from Morgan le Fay, and brought to him a sword, made like\nExcalibur, and a scabbard also, and said to him, \"Morgan le Fay sendeth\nyou here your sword for her great love's sake.\" And the king thanked\nher, and believed it to be as she said; but she traitorously deceived\nhim, for both sword and scabbard were counterfeit, brittle, and false,\nand the true sword Excalibur was in the hands of Sir Accolon. Then, at\nthe sound of a trumpet, the champions set themselves on opposite side of\nthe field, and giving rein and spur to their horses urged them to so\ngreat a speed that each smiting the other in the middle of the shield,\nrolled his opponent to the ground, both horse and man. Then starting up\nimmediately, both drew their swords and rushed swiftly together. And so\nthey fell to eagerly, and gave each other many great and mighty strokes.\n\nAnd as they were thus fighting, the damsel Vivien, lady of the lake, who\nloved King Arthur, came upon the ground, for she knew by her\nenchantments how Morgan le Fay had craftily devised to have King Arthur\nslain by his own sword that day, and therefore came to save his life.\nAnd Arthur and Sir Accolon were now grown hot against each other, and\nspared not strength nor fury in their fierce assaults; but the king's\nsword gave way continually before Sir Accolon's, so that at every stroke\nhe was sore wounded, and his blood ran from him so fast that it was a\nmarvel he could stand. When King Arthur saw the ground so sore\nbe-blooded, he bethought him in dismay that there was magic treason\nworked upon him, and that his own true sword was changed, for it seemed\nto him that the sword in Sir Accolon's hand was Excalibur, for fearfully\nit drew his blood at every blow, while what he held himself kept no\nsharp edge, nor fell with any force upon his foe.\n\n\"Now, knight, look to thyself, and keep thee well from me,\" cried out\nSir Accolon. But King Arthur answered not, and gave him such a buffet on\nthe helm as made him stagger and nigh fall upon the ground. Then Sir\nAccolon withdrew a little, and came on with Excalibur on high, and smote\nKing Arthur in return with such a mighty stroke as almost felled him;\nand both being now in hottest wrath, they gave each other grievous and\nsavage blows. But Arthur all the time was losing so much blood that\nscarcely could he keep upon his feet, yet so full was he of knighthood,\nthat knightly he endured the pain, and still sustained himself, though\nnow he was so feeble that he thought himself about to die. Sir Accolon,\nas yet, had lost no drop of blood, and being very bold and confident in\nExcalibur, even grew more vigorous and hasty in his assaults. But all\nmen who beheld them said they never saw a knight fight half so well as\ndid King Arthur, and all the people were so grieved for him that they\nbesought Sir Damas and Sir Outzlake to make up their quarrel and so stay\nthe fight; but they would not.\n\nSo still the battle raged, till Arthur drew a little back for breath and\na few moments' rest; but Accolon came on after him, following fiercely\nand crying loud, \"It is no time for me to suffer thee to rest,\" and\ntherewith set upon him. Then Arthur, full of scorn and rage, lifted up\nhis sword and struck Sir Accolon upon the helm so mightily that he drove\nhim to his knees; but with the force of that great stroke his brittle,\ntreacherous sword broke short off at the hilt, and fell down in the\ngrass among the blood, leaving the pommel only in his hand. At that,\nKing Arthur thought within himself that all was over, and secretly\nprepared his mind for death, yet kept himself so knightly sheltered by\nhis shield that he lost no ground, and made as though he yet had hope\nand cheer. Then said Sir Accolon, \"Sir knight, thou now art overcome and\ncanst endure no longer, seeing thou art weaponless, and hast lost\nalready so much blood. Yet am I fully loth to slay thee; yield, then,\ntherefore, to me as recreant.\" \"Nay,\" said King Arthur, \"that may I not,\nfor I have promised to do battle to the uttermost by the faith of my\nbody while my life lasteth; and I had rather die with honor than live\nwith shame; and if it were possible for me to die an hundred times, I\nhad rather die as often than yield me to thee, for though I lack\nweapons, I shall lack no worship, and it shall be to thy shame to slay\nme weaponless.\" \"Aha,\" shouted then Sir Accolon, \"as for the shame, I\nwill not spare; look to thyself, sir knight, for thou art even now but a\ndead man.\" Therewith he drove at him with pitiless force, and struck him\nnearly down; but Arthur evermore waxing in valor as he waned in blood,\npressed on Sir Accolon with his shield, and hit at him so fiercely with\nthe pommel in his hand, as hurled him three strides backward.\n\nThis, therefore, so confused Sir Accolon, that rushing up, all dizzy, to\ndeliver once again a furious blow, even as he struck, Excalibur, by\nVivien's magic, fell from out his hands upon the earth. Beholding which,\nKing Arthur lightly sprang to it, and grasped it, and forthwith felt it\nwas his own good sword, and said to it, \"Thou hast been from me all too\nlong, and done me too much damage.\" Then spying the scabbard hanging by\nSir Accolon's side, he sprang and pulled it from him, and cast it away\nas far as he could throw it; for so long as he had worn it, Arthur knew\nhis life would have been kept secure. \"Oh, knight!\" then said the king,\n\"thou hast this day wrought me much damage by this sword, but now art\nthou come to thy death, for I shall not warrant thee but that thou shalt\nsuffer, ere we part, somewhat of that thou hast made me suffer.\" And\ntherewithal King Arthur flew at him with all his might, and pulled him\nto the earth, and then struck off his helm, and gave him on the head a\nfearful buffet, till the blood leaped forth. \"Now will I slay thee!\"\ncried King Arthur; for his heart was hardened, and his body all on fire\nwith fever, till for a moment he forgot his knightly mercy. \"Slay me\nthou mayest,\" said Sir Accolon, \"for thou art the best knight I ever\nfound, and I see well that God is with thee; and I, as thou hast, have\npromised to fight this battle to the uttermost, and never to be recreant\nwhile I live; therefore shall I never yield me with my mouth, and God\nmust do with my body what he will.\" And as Sir Accolon spoke, King\nArthur thought he knew his voice; and parting all his blood-stained hair\nfrom out his eyes, and leaning down towards him, saw, indeed, it was his\nfriend and own true knight. Then said he--keeping his own visor down--\"I\npray thee tell me of what country art thou, and what court?\" \"Sir\nknight,\" he answered, \"I am of King Arthur's court, and my name is Sir\nAccolon of Gaul.\" Then said the king, \"Oh, sir knight! I pray thee tell\nme who gave thee this sword? and from whom thou hadst it?\"\n\nThen said Sir Accolon, \"Woe worth this sword, for by it I have gotten my\ndeath. This sword hath been in my keeping now for almost twelve months,\nand yesterday Queen Morgan le Fay, wife of King Urience, sent it to me\nby a dwarf, that therewith I might in some way slay her brother, King\nArthur; for thou must understand that King Arthur is the man she hateth\nmost in all the world, being full of envy and jealousy because he is of\ngreater worship and renown than any other of her blood. She loveth me\nalso as much as she doth hate him; and if she might contrive to slay\nKing Arthur by her craft and magic, then would she straightway kill her\nhusband also, and make me the king of all this land, and herself my\nqueen, to reign with me; but now,\" said he, \"all that is over, for this\nday I am come to my death.\"\n\n\"It would have been sore treason of thee to destroy thy lord,\" said\nArthur. \"Thou sayest truly,\" answered he; \"but now that I have told\nthee, and openly confessed to thee all that foul treason whereof I now\ndo bitterly repent, tell me, I pray thee, whence art thou, and of what\ncourt?\" \"O, Sir Accolon!\" said King Arthur, \"learn that I am myself King\nArthur.\" When Sir Accolon heard this he cried aloud, \"Alas, my gracious\nlord! have mercy on me, for I knew thee not.\" \"Thou shalt have mercy,\"\nsaid he, \"for thou knewest not my person at this time; and though by\nthine own confession thou art a traitor, yet do I blame thee less,\nbecause thou hast been blinded by the false crafts of my sister Morgan\nle Fay, whom I have trusted more than all others of my kin, and whom I\nnow shall know well how to punish.\" Then did Sir Accolon cry loudly, \"O,\nlords, and all good people! this noble knight that I have fought with is\nthe noblest and most worshipful in all the world; for it is King Arthur,\nour liege lord and sovereign king; and full sorely I repent that I have\never lifted lance against him, though in ignorance I did it.\"\n\nThen all the people fell down on their knees and prayed the pardon of\nthe king for suffering him to come to such a strait. But he replied,\n\"Pardon ye cannot have, for, truly, ye have nothing sinned; but here ye\nsee what ill adventure may ofttimes befall knights-errant, for to my own\nhurt, and his danger also, I have fought with one of my own knights.\"\n\nThen the king commanded Sir Damas to surrender to his brother the whole\nmanor, Sir Outzlake only yielding him a palfrey every year; \"for,\" said\nhe scornfully, \"it would become thee better to ride on than a courser;\"\nand ordered Damas, upon pain of death, never again to touch or to\ndistress knights-errant riding on their adventures; and also to make\nfull compensation and satisfaction to the twenty knights whom he had\nheld in prison. \"And if any of them,\" said the king, \"come to my court\ncomplaining that he hath not had full satisfaction of thee for his\ninjuries, by my head, thou shalt die therefor.\"\n\nAfterwards, King Arthur asked Sir Outzlake to come with him to his\ncourt, where he should become a knight of his, and, if his deeds were\nnoble, be advanced to all he might desire.\n\nSo then he took his leave of all the people and mounted upon horseback,\nand Sir Accolon went with him to an abbey hard by, where both their\nwounds were dressed. But Sir Accolon died within four days after. And\nwhen he was dead, the king sent his body to Queen Morgan, to Camelot,\nsaying that he sent her a present in return for the sword Excalibur\nwhich she had sent him by the damsel.\n\nSo, on the morrow, there came a damsel from Queen Morgan to the king,\nand brought with her the richest mantle that ever was seen, for it was\nset as full of precious stones as they could stand against each other,\nand they were the richest stones that ever the king saw. And the damsel\nsaid, \"Your sister sendeth you this mantle, and prayeth you to take her\ngift, and in whatsoever thing she hath offended you, she will amend it\nat your pleasure.\" To this the king replied not, although the mantle\npleased him much. With that came in the lady of the lake, and said,\n\"Sir, put not on this mantle till thou hast seen more; and in nowise let\nit be put upon thee, or any of thy knights, till ye have made the\nbringer of it first put it on her.\" \"It shall be done as thou dost\ncounsel,\" said the king. Then said he to the damsel that came from his\nsister, \"Damsel, I would see this mantle ye have brought me upon\nyourself.\" \"Sir,\" said she, \"it will not beseem me to wear a knight's\ngarment.\" \"By my head,\" said King Arthur, \"thou shalt wear it ere it go\non any other person's back!\" And so they put it on her by force, and\nforthwith the garment burst into a flame and burned the damsel into\ncinders. When the king saw that, he hated that false witch Morgan le Fay\nwith all his heart, and evermore was deadly quarrel between her and\nArthur to their lives' end.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nARTHUR IS CROWNED EMPEROR AT ROME\n\n\nAnd now again the second time there came ambassadors from Lucius\nTiberius, Emperor of Rome, demanding, under pain of war, tribute and\nhomage from King Arthur, and the restoration of all Gaul, which he had\nconquered from the tribune Flollo.\n\nWhen they had delivered their message, the king bade them withdraw while\nhe consulted with his knights and barons what reply to send. Then some\nof the younger knights would have slain the ambassadors, saying that\ntheir speech was a rebuke to all who heard the king insulted by it. But\nwhen King Arthur heard that, he ordered none to touch them upon pain of\ndeath; and sending officers, he had them taken to a noble lodging, and\nthere entertained with the best cheer. \"And,\" said he, \"let no dainty be\nspared, for the Romans are great lords; and though their message please\nme not, yet must I remember mine honor.\"\n\nThen the lords and knights of the Round Table were called on to declare\ntheir counsel--what should be done upon this matter; and Sir Cador of\nCornwall speaking first, said, \"Sir, this message is the best news I\nhave heard for a long time, for we have been now idle and at rest for\nmany days, and I trust that thou wilt make sharp war upon the Romans,\nwherein, I doubt not, we shall all gain honor.\"\n\n\"I believe well,\" said Arthur, \"that thou art pleased, Sir Cador; but\nthat is scarce an answer to the Emperor of Rome, and his demand doth\ngrieve me sorely, for truly I will never pay him tribute; wherefore,\nlords, I pray ye counsel me. Now, I have understood that Belinus and\nBrennius, knights of Britain, held the Roman Empire in their hands for\nmany days, and also Constantine, the son of Helen, which is open\nevidence, not only that we owe Rome no tribute, but that I, being\ndescended from them, may, of right, myself claim the empire.\"\n\nThen said King Anguish of Scotland, \"Sir, thou oughtest of right to be\nabove all other kings, for in all Christendom is there not thine equal;\nand I counsel thee never to obey the Romans. For when they reigned here\nthey grievously distressed us, and put the land to great and heavy\nburdens; and here, for my part, I swear to avenge me on them when I may,\nand will furnish thee with twenty thousand men-at-arms, whom I will pay\nand keep, and who shall wait on thee with me, when it shall please\nthee.\"\n\nThen the King of Little Britain rose and promised King Arthur thirty\nthousand men; and likewise many other kings, and dukes, and barons,\npromised aid--as the lord of West Wales thirty thousand men, Sir Ewaine\nand his cousin thirty thousand men, and so forth; Sir Lancelot also, and\nevery other knight of the Round Table, promised each man a great host.\n\nSo the king, passing joyful at their courage and good will, thanked them\nall heartily, and sent for the ambassadors again, to hear his answer. \"I\nwill,\" said he, \"that ye now go back straightway unto the Emperor your\nmaster, and tell him that I give no heed to his words, for I have\nconquered all my kingdoms by the will of God and by my own right arm,\nand I am strong enough to keep them, without paying tribute to any\nearthly creature. But, on the other hand, I claim both tribute and\nsubmission from himself, and also claim the sovereignty of all his\nempire, whereto I am entitled by the right of my own ancestors--sometime\nkings of this land. And say to him that I will shortly come to Rome, and\nby God's grace will take possession of my empire and subdue all rebels.\nWherefore, lastly, I command him and all the lords of Rome that they\nforthwith pay me their homage, under pain of my chastisement and wrath.\"\n\nThen he commanded his treasurers to give the ambassadors great gifts,\nand defray all their charges, and appointed Sir Cador to convey them\nworshipfully out of the land.\n\nSo when they returned to Rome and came before Lucius, he was sore angry\nat their words, and said, \"I thought this Arthur would have instantly\nobeyed my orders and have served me as humbly as any other king; but\nbecause of his fortune in Gaul, he hath grown insolent.\"\n\n\"Ah, lord,\" said one of the ambassadors, \"refrain from such vain words,\nfor truly I and all with me were fearful at his royal majesty and angry\ncountenance. I fear me thou hast made a rod for thee more sharp than\nthou hast counted on. He meaneth to be master of this empire; and is\nanother kind of man than thou supposest, and holdeth the most noble\ncourt of all the world. We saw him on the new year's day, served at his\ntable by nine kings, and the noblest company of other princes, lords,\nand knights that ever was in all the world; and in his person he is the\nmost manly-seeming man that liveth, and looketh like to conquer all the\nearth.\"\n\nThen Lucius sent messengers to all the subject countries of Rome, and\nbrought together a mighty army, and assembled sixteen kings, and many\ndukes, princes, lords, and admirals, and a wondrous great multitude of\npeople. Fifty giants also, born of fiends, were set around him for a\nbody-guard. With all that host he straightway went from Rome, and passed\nbeyond the mountains into Gaul, and burned the towns and ravaged all the\ncountry of that province, in rage for its submission to King Arthur.\nThen he moved on towards Little Britain.\n\nMeanwhile, King Arthur having held a parliament at York, left the realm\nin charge of Sir Badewine and Sir Constantine, and crossed the sea from\nSandwich to meet Lucius. And so soon as he was landed, he sent Sir\nGawain, Sir Bors, Sir Lionel, and Sir Bedivere to the Emperor,\ncommanding him \"to move swiftly and in haste out of his land, and, if\nnot, to make himself ready for battle, and not continue ravaging the\ncountry and slaying harmless people.\" Anon, those noble knights attired\nthemselves and set forth on horseback to where they saw, in a meadow,\nmany silken tents of divers colors, and the Emperor's pavilion in the\nmidst, with a golden eagle set above it.\n\nThen Sir Gawain and Sir Bors rode forward, leaving the other two behind\nin ambush, and gave King Arthur's message. To which the Emperor replied,\n\"Return, and tell your lord that I am come to conquer him and all his\nland.\"\n\nAt this, Sir Gawain burned with anger, and cried out, \"I had rather than\nall France that I might fight with thee alone!\"\n\n\"And I also,\" said Sir Bors.\n\nThen a knight named Ganius, a near cousin of the Emperor, laughed out\naloud, and said, \"Lo! how these Britons boast and are full of pride,\nbragging as though they bare up all the world!\"\n\nAt these words, Sir Gawain could refrain no longer, but drew forth his\nsword and with one blow shore off Ganius' head; then with Sir Bors, he\nturned his horse and rode over waters and through woods, back to the\nambush, where Sir Lionel and Sir Bedivere were waiting. The Romans\nfollowed fast behind them till the knights turned and stood, and then\nSir Bors smote the foremost of them through the body with a spear, and\nslew him on the spot. Then came on Calibere, a huge Pavian, but Sir Bors\noverthrew him also. And then the company of Sir Lionel and Sir Bedivere\nbrake forth from their ambush and fell on the Romans, and slew and\nhewed them down, and forced them to return and flee, chasing them to\ntheir tents.\n\nBut as they neared the camp, a great host more rushed forth, and turned\nthe battle backwards, and in the turmoil, Sir Bors and Sir Berel fell\ninto the Romans' hands. When Sir Gawain saw that, he drew his good sword\nGalotine, and swore to see King Arthur's face no more if those two\nknights were not delivered; and then, with good Sir Idrus, made so sore\nan onslaught that the Romans fled and left Sir Bors and Sir Berel to\ntheir friends. So the Britons returned in triumph to King Arthur, having\nslain more than ten thousand Romans, and lost no man of worship from\namongst themselves.\n\nWhen the Emperor Lucius heard of that discomfiture he arose, with all\nhis army, to crush King Arthur, and met him in the vale of Soissons.\nThen speaking to all his host, he said, \"Sirs, I admonish you that this\nday ye fight and acquit yourselves as men; and remembering how Rome is\nchief of all the earth, and mistress of the universal world, suffer not\nthese barbarous and savage Britons to abide our onset.\" At that, the\ntrumpets blew so loud, that the ground trembled and shook.\n\nThen did the rival hosts draw near each other with great shoutings; and\nwhen they closed, no tongue can tell the fury of their smiting, and the\nsore struggling, wounds, and slaughter. Then King Arthur, with his\nmightiest knights, rode down into the thickest of the fight, and drew\nExcalibur, and slew as lightning slays for swiftness and for force. And\nin the midmost crowd he met a giant, Galapas by name, and struck off\nboth his legs at the knee-joints; then saying, \"Now art thou a better\nsize to deal with!\" smote his head off at a second blow: and the body\nkilled six men in falling down.\n\nAnon, King Arthur spied where Lucius fought and worked great deeds of\nprowess with his own hands. Forthwith he rode at him, and each attacked\nthe other passing fiercely; till at the last, Lucius struck King Arthur\nwith a fearful wound across the face, and Arthur, in return, lifting up\nExcalibur on high, drove it with all his force upon the Emperor's head,\nshivering his helmet, crashing his head in halves, and splitting his\nbody to the breast. And when the Romans saw their Emperor dead, they\nfled in hosts of thousands; and King Arthur and his knights, and all his\narmy followed them, and slew one hundred thousand men.\n\nThen returning to the field, King Arthur rode to the place where Lucius\nlay dead, and round him the kings of Egypt and Ethiopia, and seventeen\nother kings, with sixty Roman senators, all noble men. All these he\nordered to be carefully embalmed with aromatic gums, and laid in leaden\ncoffins, covered with their shields and arms and banners. Then calling\nfor three senators who were taken prisoners, he said to them, \"As the\nransom of your lives, I will that ye take these dead bodies and carry\nthem to Rome, and there present them for me, with these letters saying I\nwill myself be shortly there. And I suppose the Romans will beware how\nthey again ask tribute of me; for tell them, these dead bodies that I\nsend them are for the tribute they have dared to ask of me; and if they\nwish for more, when I come I will pay them the rest.\"\n\nSo, with that charge, the three senators departed with the dead bodies,\nand went to Rome; the body of the Emperor being carried in a chariot\nblazoned with the arms of the empire, all alone, and the bodies of the\nkings two and two in chariots following.\n\nAfter the battle, King Arthur entered Lorraine, Brabant, and Flanders,\nand thence, subduing all the countries as he went, passed into Germany,\nand so beyond the mountains into Lombardy and Tuscany. At length he came\nbefore a city which refused to obey him, wherefore he sat down before it\nto besiege it. And after a long time thus spent, King Arthur called Sir\nFlorence, and told him they began to lack food for his hosts--\"And not\nfar from hence,\" said he, \"are great forests full of cattle belonging to\nmy enemies. Go then, and bring by force all that thou canst find; and\ntake with thee Sir Gawain, my nephew, and Sir Clegis, Sir Claremond, the\nCaptain of Cardiff, and a strong band.\"\n\nAnon, those knights made ready, and rode over holts and hills, and\nthrough forests and woods, till they came to a great meadow full of fair\nflowers and grass, and there they rested themselves and their horses\nthat night. And at the dawn of the next day, Sir Gawain took his horse\nand rode away from his fellows to seek some adventure. Soon he saw an\narmed knight walking his horse by a wood's side, with his shield laced\nto his shoulder, and no attendant with him save a page, bearing a mighty\nspear; and on his shield were blazoned three gold griffins. When Sir\nGawain spied him, he put his spear in rest, and riding straight to him,\nasked who he was. \"A Tuscan,\" said he; \"and thou mayest prove me when\nthou wilt, for thou shalt be my prisoner ere we part.\"\n\nThen said Sir Gawain, \"Thou vauntest thee greatly, and speakest proud\nwords; yet I counsel thee, for all thy boastings, look to thyself the\nbest thou canst.\"\n\nAt that they took their spears and ran at each other with all the might\nthey had, and smote each other through their shields into their\nshoulders; and then drawing swords smote with great strokes, till the\nfire sprang out of their helms. Then was Sir Gawain enraged, and with\nhis good sword Galotine struck his enemy through shield and hauberk, and\nsplintered into piece all the precious stones of it, and made so huge a\nwound that men might see both lungs and liver. At that the Tuscan,\ngroaning loudly, rushed on to Sir Gawain, and gave him a deep slanting\nstroke, and made a mighty wound and cut a great vein asunder, so that he\nbled fast. Then he cried out, \"Bind thy wound quickly up, Sir knight,\nfor thou be-bloodest all thy horse and thy fair armor, and all the\nsurgeons of the world shall never staunch thy blood; for so shall it be\nto whomsoever is hurt with this good sword.\"\n\nThen answered Sir Gawain, \"It grieveth me but little, and thy boastful\nwords give me no fear, for thou shalt suffer greater grief and sorrow\nere we part; but tell me quickly who can staunch this blood.\"\n\n\"That can I do,\" said the strange knight, \"and will, if thou wilt aid\nand succor me to become christened, and to believe in God, which now I\ndo require of thee upon thy manhood.\"\n\n\"I am content,\" said Sir Gawain; \"and may God help me to grant all thy\nwishes. But tell me first, what soughtest thou thus here alone, and of\nwhat land art thou?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said the knight, \"my name is Prianius, and my father is a great\nprince, who hath rebelled against Rome. He is descended from Alexander\nand Hector, and of our lineage also were Joshua and Maccabaeus. I am of\nright the king of Alexandria, and Africa, and all the outer isles, yet I\nwould believe in the Lord thou worshipest, and for thy labor I will give\nthee treasure enough. I was so proud in heart that I thought none my\nequal, but now have I encountered with thee, who hast given me my fill\nof fighting; wherefore, I pray thee, Sir knight, tell me of thyself.\"\n\n\"I am no knight,\" said Sir Gawain; \"I have been brought up many years in\nthe wardrobe of the noble prince King Arthur, to mind his armor and\narray.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said Prianius, \"if his varlets be so keen and fierce, his knights\nmust be passing good! Now, for the love of heaven, whether thou be\nknight or knave, tell me thy name.\"\n\n\"By heaven!\" said Gawain, \"now will I tell thee the truth. My name is\nSir Gawain, and I am a knight of the Round Table.\"\n\n\"Now am I better pleased,\" said Prianius, \"than if thou hadst given me\nall the province of Paris the rich. I had rather have been torn by wild\nhorses than that any varlet should have won such victory over me as thou\nhast done. But now, Sir knight, I warn thee that close by is the Duke of\nLorraine, with sixty thousand good men of war; and we had both best flee\nat once, for he will find us else, and we be sorely wounded and never\nlikely to recover. And let my page be careful that he blow no horn, for\nhard by are a hundred knights, my servants; and if they seize thee, no\nransom of gold or silver would acquit thee.\"\n\nThen Sir Gawain rode over a river to save himself, and Sir Prianius\nafter him, and so they both fled till they came to his companions who\nwere in the meadow, where they spent the night. When Sir Whishard saw\nSir Gawain so hurt, he ran to him weeping, and asked him who it was had\nwounded him; and Sir Gawain told him how he had fought with that\nman--pointing to Prianius--who had salves to heal them both. \"But I can\ntell ye other tidings,\" said he--\"that soon we must encounter many\nenemies, for a great army is close to us in our front.\"\n\nThen Prianius and Sir Gawain alighted and let their horses graze while\nthey unarmed, and when they took this armor and their clothing off, the\nhot blood ran down freshly from their wounds till it was piteous to\nsee. But Prianius took from his page a vial filled from the four rivers\nthat flow out of Paradise, and anointed both their wounds with a certain\nbalm, and washed them with that water, and within an hour afterwards\nthey were both as sound and whole as ever they had been. Then, at the\nsound of a trumpet, all the knights were assembled to council; and after\nmuch talking, Prianius said, \"Cease your words, for I warn you in yonder\nwood ye shall find knights out of number, who will put out cattle for a\ndecoy to lead you on; and ye are not seven hundred!\"\n\n\"Nevertheless,\" said Sir Gawain, \"let us at once encounter them, and see\nwhat they can do; and may the best have the victory.\"\n\nThen they saw suddenly an earl named Sir Ethelwold, and the Duke of\nDuchmen come leaping out of ambush of the woods in front, with many a\nthousand after them, and all rode straight down to the battle. And Sir\nGawain, full of ardor and courage, comforted his knights, saying, \"They\nall are ours.\" Then the seven hundred knights, in one close company, set\nspurs to their horses and began to gallop, and fiercely met their\nenemies. And then were men and horses slain and overthrown on every\nside, and in and out amidst them all, the knights of the Round Table\npressed and thrust, and smote down to the earth all who withstood them,\ntill at length the whole of them turned back and fled.\n\n\"By heaven!\" said Sir Gawain, \"this gladdeneth well my heart, for now\nbehold them as they flee! they are full seventy thousand less in number\nthan they were an hour ago!\"\n\nThus was the battle quickly ended, and a great host of high lords and\nknights of Lombardy and Saracens left dead upon the field. Then Sir\nGawain and his company collected a great plenty of cattle, and of gold\nand silver, and all kind of treasure, and returned to King Arthur, where\nhe still kept the siege.\n\n\"Now God be thanked,\" cried he; \"but who is he that standeth yonder by\nhimself, and seemeth not a prisoner?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Gawain, \"he is a good man with his weapons, and hath\nmatched me; but cometh hither to be made a Christian. Had it not been\nfor his warnings, we none of us should have been here this day. I pray\nthee, therefore, let him be baptized, for there can be few nobler men,\nor better knights.\"\n\nSo Prianius was christened, and made a duke and knight of the Round\nTable.\n\nPresently afterwards, they made a last attack upon the city, and entered\nby the walls on every side; and as the men were rushing to the pillage,\ncame the Duchess forth, with many ladies and damsels, and kneeled before\nKing Arthur; and besought him to receive their submission. To whom the\nking made answer, with a noble countenance, \"Madam, be well assured that\nnone shall harm ye, or your ladies; neither shall any that belong to\nthee be hurt; but the Duke must abide my judgment.\" Then he commanded to\nstay the assault and took the keys from the Duke's eldest son, who\nbrought them kneeling. Anon the Duke was sent a prisoner to Dover for\nhis life, and rents and taxes were assigned for dowry of the Duchess and\nher children.\n\nThen went he on with all his hosts, winning all towns and castles, and\nwasting them that refused obedience, till he came to Viterbo. From\nthence he sent to Rome, to ask the senators whether they would receive\nhim for their lord and governor. In answer, came out to him all the\nSenate who remained alive, and the Cardinals, with a majestic retinue\nand procession; and laying great treasures at his feet, they prayed him\nto come in at once to Rome, and there be peaceably crowned as Emperor.\n\"At this next Christmas,\" said King Arthur, \"will I be crowned, and hold\nmy Round Table in your city.\"\n\nAnon he entered Rome, in mighty pomp and state; and after him came all\nhis hosts, and his knights, and princes, and great lords, arrayed in\ngold and jewels, such as never were beheld before. And then was he\ncrowned Emperor by the Pope's hands, with all the highest solemnity that\ncould be made.\n\nThen after his coronation, he abode in Rome for a season, settling his\nlands and giving kingdoms to his knights and servants, to each one after\nhis deserving, and in such wise fashion that no man among them all\ncomplained. Also he made many dukes and earls, and loaded all his\nmen-at-arms with riches and great treasures.\n\nWhen all this was done, the lords and knights, and all the men of great\nestate, came together before him, and said, \"Noble Emperor! by the\nblessing of Eternal God, thy mortal warfare is all finished, and thy\nconquests all achieved; for now in all the world is none so great and\nmighty as to dare make war with thee. Wherefore we beseech and heartily\npray thee of thy noble grace, to turn thee homeward, and give us also\nleave to see our wives and homes again, for now we have been from them a\nlong season, and all thy journey is completed with great honor and\nworship.\"\n\n\"Ye say well,\" replied he, \"and to tempt God is no wisdom; therefore\nmake ready in all haste, and turn we home to England.\"\n\nSo King Arthur returned with his knights and lords and armies, in great\ntriumph and joy, through all the countries he had conquered, and\ncommanded that no man, upon pain of death, should rob or do any violence\nby the way. And crossing the sea, he came at length to Sandwich, where\nQueen Guinevere received him, and made great joy at his arrival. And\nthrough all the realm of Britain was there such rejoicing as no tongue\ncan tell.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nSIR GAWAIN AND THE MAID WITH THE NARROW SLEEVES\n\n\nNow it happened that as Sir Gawain was riding one day through the\ncountry he encountered a troop of knights, followed by a squire, who led\na Spanish charger, and about whose neck was hung a shield. Gawain rode\nup to the squire and said, \"Tell me, what is yonder troop that hath\nridden by?\"\n\nThe squire answered, \"Sir, Meliance of Lis, a brave and hardy knight.\"\n\n\"Is it to him you belong?\" Sir Gawain asked.\n\n\"Nay, sir,\" said the squire, \"my master is Teudaves, a knight as worthy\nas this one.\"\n\n\"Teudaves I know,\" said Gawain. \"Whither fareth he? Tell me the truth.\"\n\n\"He proceedeth to a tourney, sir, which this Meliance of Lis hath\nundertaken against Thiebault of Tintagel. If you will take my advice you\nwill throw yourself into the castle, and take part against the\noutsiders.\"\n\n\"Was it not,\" cried Gawain, \"in the house of this Thiebault that\nMeliance of Lis was nurtured?\"\n\n\"Aye, sir, so God save me!\" said the squire. \"His father loved Thiebault\nand trusted him so much that on his death-bed he committed to his care\nhis little son, whom Thiebault cherished and protected, until the time\ncame when the youth petitioned his daughter to give him her love; but\nshe replied that she would never do that until he should be made a\nknight. The youth, being ardent, forthwith had himself knighted, and\nthen returned to the maiden. 'Nay,' answered the girl to his renewed\nsuit, 'it shall never be, until in my presence you shall have achieved\nsuch feats of arms that I will know my love hath cost you somewhat; for\nthose things which come suddenly are not so sweet as those we earn. If\nyou wish my love, take a tournament of my father. I desire to be certain\nthat my love would be well placed in case I were to grant it.' What she\nsuggested he performed, for love hath such lordship over lovers that\nthose who are under his power would never dare refuse whatever it\npleased him to enjoin. And you, sir, sluggish will you be if you do not\nenter the castle, for they will need you greatly, if you might help\nthem.\"\n\nTo which Sir Gawain answered, \"Brother, go thy way, it would be wise of\nyou, and let my affairs be.\" So the squire departed, and Gawain rode\ntowards Tintagel, for there was no other way by which he could pass.\n\nNow Thiebault had summoned all his kith and kin, who had come, high and\nlow, old and young; but he could not get the permission of his council\nto joust with his master, for the councillors feared lest he should\nutterly ruin their castle. Therefore the gates had been walled up with\nstones and mortar, leaving as the only approach one small postern,\nwhich had a gate made of copper, as much as a cart could haul. Sir\nGawain rode to the gate, behind the troop that bore his harness, for\nthere was no other road within seven leagues. He found the postern shut\nand so he turned into a close below the tower, that was fenced with a\npalisade. He dismounted under an oak and hung up his shields. Thither\ncame the folk from the castle, most of them sorry that the tourney had\nbeen abandoned; in the fortress was an aged nobleman, great in land and\nlineage, whose word no one disputed. A long way off the troop had been\npointed out to him, and before they rode into the close he went to\nThiebault, and said, \"Sir, so God save me, I have seen two companions of\nKing Arthur, worthy men, who ride this way; I advise you to tourney with\ngood hope, for we have brave knights, and servants, and archers, who\nwill slay their horses, and I am certain they will joust before this\ngate; if their pride shall bring them the gain will be ours, and theirs\nwill be the loss and the shame.\"\n\nAs a result of this counsel Thiebault allowed those who wished to take\ntheir arms and sally forth. The knights were right glad, and their\nsquires ran after their horses, while the dames and the damsels climbed\nhigh places to see the tourney. Below, in the meadow, they saw the arms\nof Sir Gawain, and at first thought that there were two knights, because\ntwo shields hung from the tree. They cried out that they were fortunate\nto see two such knights arm. So some thought; but others exclaimed,\n\"Fair Lord God, this knight hath arms and steeds sufficient for two; if\nhe hath no companion, what will he do with two shields? Never was seen a\nknight who carried two shields at one and the same time. It is very\nstrange if one man means to bear two shields.\"\n\nWhile the ladies talked and the knights went forth from the castle the\nelder daughter of Thiebault mounted to the tower, she on account of whom\nthe tournament had been undertaken, and with her her younger sister,\nwhose sleeves were so quaint that she was called the Maid with the\nNarrow Sleeves, for she wore them tight. Dames and damsels climbed the\ntower with them, and the tourney was joined in front of the castle. None\nbore himself so well as Meliance of Lis, by the testimony of his fair\nfriend, who said to those about her, \"Ladies, never did I see a knight\nwho delighted me as doth Meliance of Lis. Is it not a pleasure to see\nsuch a knight? That man must have a good seat and be skillful in the use\nof lance and shield who beareth himself so excellently.\"\n\nThereupon her sister, who sat by her side, said that she saw a fairer\nknight. The elder maiden was angry and rose to strike her sister. But\nthe ladies interfered, and held her back, so that she missed her blow,\nwhich greatly incensed her.\n\nIn the tournament many lances were shivered, shields pierced, and\nknights unhorsed; and it went hard with the knight who met Meliance of\nLis, for there was none he did not throw on the hard ground. If his\nlance broke, he dealt great blows with his sword; and he bore himself\nbetter than any other knight on either side, to the great joy of his\nfair friend, who could not resist exclaiming, \"Ladies, it is wonderful!\nBehold the best bachelor knight of whom minstrel hath ever sung or whom\neyes have ever seen, the fairest and bravest of all those in the\ntourney!\"\n\nThen the little girl cried, \"I see a handsomer one, and 'tis like, a\nbetter!\"\n\nThe elder sister grew hot. \"Ha, girl, you were malapert when you were so\nunlucky as to blame one whom I praised! Take that, to teach you better\nanother time!\" So saying, she slapped her sister, so hard that she left\non the little girl's cheek the print of her five fingers. But the ladies\nwho sat near scolded her and took her away.\n\nAfter that they fell to talking of Sir Gawain. One of the damsels said,\n\"The knight beneath yonder tree, why doth he delay to take arms?\" A\nsecond damsel, who was ruder, exclaimed, \"He hath sworn to keep the\npeace.\" And a third added, \"He is a merchant. Don't tell me that he\ndesireth to joust; he bringeth horses to market.\" \"He is a\nmoney-changer,\" said a fourth. \"The goods he hath he meaneth to sell to\npoor bachelors. Trust me, he hath money or raiment in those chests.\"\n\n\"You have wicked tongues!\" cried the little girl. \"And you lie! Do you\nthink a merchant would bear such huge lances? You tire me to death,\ntalking such nonsense! By the faith that I owe the Holy Spirit, he\nseemeth to me a knight rather than a merchant or a money-changer. He is\na knight, and he looketh like one!\"\n\nThe ladies all cried with one voice, \"Fair sweet friend, if he looketh\nso, it doth not follow that he is so. He putteth it on because he\nwisheth to cheat the tariff. But in spite of all his cleverness he is a\nfool, for he will be taken up and hung for a cheat.\"\n\nNow Gawain heard all that the ladies said about him, and he was ashamed\nand annoyed. But he thought, and thought rightly, that he lay under an\naccusation of treason, and that it was his duty to keep his pledge or\nforever disgrace himself and his line. It was for this reason that he\ntook no part in the tourney, lest, if he fought, he should be wounded or\ntaken prisoner.\n\nMeliance of Lis called for great lances, to strike harder blows. Until\nnight fell the tourney continued before the gate; the man who took any\nbooty carried it to some place where he thought it would be safe. Then\nthe ladies saw a squire, tall and strong, who held a piece of a lance\nand bore on his neck a steel cap. One of the ladies, who was foolish,\ncalled to him, saying, \"Sir squire, so God help me, it is foolish of you\nto make prize of that tester, those arms and croup-piece. If you do a\nsquire's duty you deserve a squire's wage. Below, in yonder meadow, is a\nman who hath riches he cannot defend. Unwise is he who misseth his gain\nwhile he hath the power to take it. He seemeth the most debonair of\nknights, and yet he would not stir if one plucked his beard. If you are\nwise, take the armor and the treasure, none will hinder you.\"\n\nThe squire went into the meadow and struck one of Gawain's horses,\ncrying, \"Vassal, are you sick that all day long you gape here and have\ndone nothing, neither pierced shield nor shivered lance?\"\n\nSir Gawain answered, \"Pray, what is it to you why I tarry? You shall\nknow, but not now. Get you gone about your business.\"\n\nThe squire withdrew, for Gawain was not the type of man to whom he would\ndare say anything unpleasant.\n\nThe tourney ended, after many knights had been killed and many horses\ncaptured. The outsiders had had the best, and the people of the castle\ngained by the intermission. At parting they all agreed that on the\nmorrow with songs they would meet again and continue the encounter. So\nfor that night they separated and those who had sallied forth returned\nto the castle, followed by Sir Gawain. At the gate he met the nobleman\nwho had advised his lord to engage in the tourney. This man accosted him\npleasantly, and said, \"Fair sir, in this castle your hostel is ready. If\nit pleaseth you, remain here, for if you should go on it would be long\nbefore you arrived at a lodging; therefore I urge you to stay.\"\n\n\"I will tarry, your mercy!\" said Gawain. \"I have heard worse words.\"\n\nThe man led the guest to his house, talking of this and that, and asked\nhim why on that day he had not borne arms. Sir Gawain explained how he\nhad been accused of treason and was bound to be on his guard against\nprison and wounds until he could free himself from the reproach that was\ncast upon him, for it would be to the dishonor of himself and his\nfriends if he should fail to appear at the time appointed.\n\nThe nobleman praised him, and said that if this was the reason he had\ndone right. With that he led Gawain to his house, where they dismounted.\nThe people of the castle blamed him, wondering how his lord would take\nit; while the elder daughter of Thiebault did her best to make trouble\nfor Gawain, on account of her sister, with whom she was angry. \"Sir,\"\nshe said to her father, \"on this day you have suffered no loss, but made\na gain, greater than you think; you have only to go and take it. The man\nwho hath brought it will not dare to defend it, for he is wily. Lances\nand shields he bringeth, with palfreys and chargers, and maketh himself\nresemble a knight to cheat the customs, so that he may pass free when he\ncometh to sell his wares. Render him his deserts. He is with Garin, the\nson of Bertan, who hath taken him to lodge at his house. I just saw him\npass.\"\n\nThiebault took his horse, for he himself wished to go there. The little\ngirl, who saw him leave, went out secretly by a back gate and straight\ndown the hill to the house of Garin, who had two fair daughters. When\nthese saw their little lady they should have been glad, and glad they\nwere, each took her by a hand and led her into the house, kissing her\neyes and lips.\n\nIn the meantime Garin and his son Herman had left the house and were\ngoing up to the castle to speak to their lord. Midway there they met\nThiebault and saluted him. He asked whither Garin was going and said he\nhad intended to pay him a visit. \"By my faith,\" said the nobleman, \"that\nwill not displease me, and at my house you shall see the fairest of\nknights.\"\n\n\"It is even he whom I seek,\" said Thiebault, \"to arrest him. He is a\nmerchant who selleth horses and pretendeth to be a knight.\"\n\n\"Alas,\" said Garin, \"'tis a churlish speech I hear you make! I am your\nman and you are my master, but on the spot I renounce your homage, and\nin the name of all my line now defy you, rather than suffer you to\ndisgrace my house.\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" answered Thiebault, \"I have no wish to do any such thing.\nNeither you nor your house shall ever receive aught but honor from me;\nnot but what I have been counseled so to proceed.\"\n\n\"Your great mercy!\" exclaimed the nobleman. \"It will be my honor if you\nwill visit my guest.\"\n\nSo side by side they went on until they reached the house. When Sir\nGawain saw them, he rose out of courtesy, and said, \"Welcome!\" The two\nsaluted him and took their seats beside him. Then the nobleman, who was\nthe lord of that country, asked why he had taken no part in the tourney,\nand Gawain narrated how a knight had accused him of treason and how he\nwas on his way to defend himself in a royal court. \"Doubtless,\"\nanswered the lord, \"that is sufficient excuse. But where is the battle\nto be held?\"\n\n\"Sir, before the king of Cavalon, whither I am journeying.\"\n\n\"And I,\" said the nobleman, \"will guide you. Since you must needs pass\nthrough a poor country, I will provide you with food and packbeasts to\ncarry it.\"\n\nGawain answered that he had no need to accept anything, for if it could\nbe bought he would have food and lodging wherever he went.\n\nWith these words Thiebault took leave. As he departed, from the opposite\ndirection he saw come his little daughter, who embraced Gawain's leg,\nand said, \"Fair sir, listen! I have come to complain of my sister, who\nhath beaten me. So please you, do me justice!\"\n\nGawain made no answer, for he did not know what she meant. He put his\nhand on her head, while the girl pulled him, saying, \"To you, fair sir,\nI complain of my sister. I do not love her, since to-day she hath done\nme great shame for your sake.\"\n\n\"Fair one, what have I to do with that? How can I do you justice against\nyour sister?\"\n\nThiebault, who had taken leave, heard his child's entreaty, and said,\n\"Girl, who bade you come here and complain to this knight?\"\n\nGawain asked, \"Fair sweet sir, is this maid your daughter?\"\n\n\"Aye; but never mind what she says. A girl is a silly creature.\"\n\n\"Certes,\" said Gawain, \"I should be churlish if I did not do what she\ndesires. Tell me, my sweet child and fair, in what manner I can justify\nyou against your sister.\"\n\n\"If it pleaseth you, for love of me, bear arms in the tourney.\"\n\n\"Tell me, dear friend,\" said Gawain, \"have you ever before made petition\nto any knight?\"\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"Never mind her,\" exclaimed her father. \"Pay no heed to her folly.\"\n\nSir Gawain answered, \"Sir, so aid me the Lord God, for so little a girl,\nshe hath spoken very well, and I will not refuse her. To-morrow, if she\nwisheth, I will be her knight.\"\n\n\"Your mercy, fair sweet sir!\" cried the child, who was overjoyed, and\nbowed down to his feet.\n\nWithout more words they parted. Thiebault carried his daughter back on\nthe neck of his palfrey. As they rode up the hill be asked her what the\nquarrel had been about, and she told him the story from beginning to\nend, saying, \"Sir, I was vexed with my sister, who declared that\nMeliance of Lis was the best of all the knights; and I, who had seen\nthis knight in the meadow, could not help saying that I had seen a\nfairer, whereupon my sister called me a silly girl and beat me. Fie on\nme, if I take it from her! I would cut off both my braids close to my\nhead, which would be a great loss, if to-morrow in the tourney this\nknight would conquer Meliance of Lis, and put an end to the fuss of\nmadam, my sister! She talked so much that she tired all the ladies; but\na little rain will hush a great wind.\"\n\n\"Fair child,\" said her father, \"I command and allow you, in courtesy, to\nsend him some love-token, a sleeve or a wimple.\"\n\nThe child, who was simple, answered, \"With pleasure since you bid me.\nBut my sleeves are so small, I should not like to send them. Most likely\nhe would not care for them.\"\n\n\"Daughter, say no more,\" said Thiebault. \"I will think about it. I am\nvery glad.\" So saying, he took her in his arms, and had great joy of\nembracing and kissing her, until he came in front of his palace. But\nwhen his elder daughter saw him approach, with the child before him, she\nwas vexed, and exclaimed, \"Sir, whence cometh my sister, the Maid with\nthe Narrow Sleeves? She is full of her tricks; she hath been quick about\nit; where did you find her?\"\n\n\"And you,\" he answered, \"what is it to you? Hush, for she is better than\nyou are. You pulled her hair and beat her, which grieveth me. You acted\nrudely; you were discourteous.\"\n\nWhen she heard her father's rebuke, the maid was greatly abashed.\n\nThiebault had brought from his chests a piece of red samite, and he bade\nhis people cut out and make a sleeve, wide and long. Then he called his\ndaughter and said, \"Child, to-morrow rise betimes and visit the knight\nbefore he leaveth his hostel. For love's sake you will give him this\nnew sleeve, which he will wear in the tourney when he goeth thither.\"\n\nThe girl answered that so soon as ever she saw the clear dawn she would\ndress herself and go. With that her father went his way, while she, in\ngreat glee, charged her companions that they should not let her\noversleep but should wake her when day broke, if they would have her\nlove them. They did as she wished, and when it dawned caused her to wake\nand dress. All alone she went to the house where Sir Gawain lodged, but,\nearly though it was, the knights had risen and gone to the monastery to\nhear mass sung. She waited until they had offered long orisons and\nlistened to the service, as much as was right. When they returned the\nchild rose to greet Sir Gawain, and cried, \"Sir, on this day may God\nsave and honor you! For love of me, wear the sleeve which I carry in my\nhand.\"\n\n\"With pleasure,\" he answered; \"friend, your mercy!\"\n\nAfter that the knights were not slow to take arms, and came pouring out\nof the town, while the damsels again went up to the walls and the dames\nof the castle saw the troops of brave and hardy knights approach.\n\nThey rode with loose rein, and in front was Meliance of Lis, who went so\nfast that he left the rest in the rear, two rods and more. When his\nmaiden saw her friend she could not keep quiet, but cried, \"Ladies,\nyonder comes the man who hath the lordship of chivalry!\"\n\nAs swiftly as his horse would carry him Sir Gawain charged Meliance of\nLis, who did not evade the blow, but met it boldly, and shivered his\nlance. On his part Sir Gawain smote so hard that he grieved Meliance,\nwhom he flung on the field; the steed he grasped by the rein and gave to\na varlet, bidding him take it to the lady on whose account he had\nentered the tourney, and say that his master had sent her the first\nspoil he had made that day. The youth took the charger, saddled as it\nwas, and led it towards the girl, who was sitting at the window of the\ntower, whence she had watched the joust, and when she saw the encounter\nshe cried to her sister, \"Sister, there lies Meliance of Lis, whom you\npraised so highly! A wise man ought to give praise where it is due. You\nsee, I was right yesterday when I said I saw a better knight.\"\n\nThus she teased her sister, who grew angry, and cried, \"Child, hold your\ntongue! If you say another word, I will slap you so that you will not\nhave a foot to stand on!\" \"Oh, sister,\" answered the little girl,\n\"remember God! You ought not to beat me because I told you the truth. I\nsaw him tumble as well as you; I think he will not be able to get up. Be\nas cross as you please, I must say that there is not a lady here who did\nnot see him fall flat on the ground.\"\n\nHer sister would have struck her, had she been able, but the ladies\naround would not allow it.\n\nWith that came the squire, who held the rein in his right hand. He saw\nthe girl sitting at the window and presented the steed. She thanked him\na hundred times, and bade the steed be taken in charge. The squire\nreturned to tell his master, who seemed the lord of the tournament, for\nthere was no knight so gallant that he did not cast from the saddle, if\nhe reached him with the lance. On that day he captured four steeds. The\nfirst he sent to the little girl, the second to the wife of the nobleman\nwho had been so kind, and the third and fourth to his own daughters.\n\nThe tourney was over and the knights entered the city. On both sides the\nhonor belonged to Sir Gawain. It was not yet noon when he returned from\nthe encounter; the city was full of knights, who ran after him, asking\nwho he was and of what land. At the gate of his hostel he was met by the\ndamsel, who did naught but grasp his stirrup, salute him, and cry, \"A\nthousand mercies, fair sweet sir!\" He answered frankly, \"Friend, before\nI am recreant to your service, may I be aged and bald! I shall never be\nso remote, but a message will bring me. If I know your need, I shall\ncome at the first summons, whatever business be mine!\"\n\nWhile they talked her father came and wished Sir Gawain to stay with him\nfor that night; but first he begged, that if his guest pleased, he would\ntell his name. Sir Gawain answered, \"Sir, I am called Gawain. My name\nwas never concealed, nor have I ever told it before it hath been asked.\"\n\nWhen Thiebault knew that the knight was Sir Gawain his heart was full of\njoy, and he exclaimed, \"Sir, be pleased to lodge with me, and accept my\nservice. Hitherto I have done you little worship, and never did I set\neyes on a knight whom so much I longed to honor.\"\n\nIn spite of urging, Sir Gawain refused to stay. The little girl, who was\ngood and clever, clasped his foot and kissed it, commending him to God.\nSir Gawain asked why she had done that, and the girl replied that she\nhad kissed his foot in order that he should remember her wherever he\nwent. He answered, \"Doubt it not, fair sweet friend! I shall never\nforget you, after I have parted hence.\"\n\nWith that Sir Gawain took leave of his host and the others, who one and\nall commended him to God. That night he slept in an abbey, and had all\nthat was necessary.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHAMPIONS OF THE ROUND TABLE\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nTHE ADVENTURES OF SIR LANCELOT\n\n\nThen, at the following Pentecost, was held a feast of the Round Table at\nCaerleon, with high splendor; and all the knights thereof resorted to\nthe court, and held many games and jousts. And therein Sir Lancelot\nincreased in fame and worship above all men, for he overthrew all\ncomers, and never was unhorsed or worsted, save by treason and\nenchantment.\n\nWhen Queen Guinevere had seen his wondrous feats, she held him in great\nfavor, and smiled more on him than on any other knight. And ever since\nhe first had gone to bring her to King Arthur, had Lancelot thought on\nher as fairest of all ladies, and done his best to win her grace. So the\nqueen often sent for him, and bade him tell of his birth and strange\nadventures: how he was only son of great King Ban of Brittany, and how,\none night, his father, with his mother Helen and himself, fled from his\nburning castle; how his father, groaning deeply, fell to the ground and\ndied of grief and wounds, and how his mother, running to her husband,\nleft himself alone; how, as he thus lay wailing, came the lady of the\nlake, and took him in her arms and went with him into the midst of the\nwaters, where, with his cousins Lionel and Bors, he had been cherished\nall his childhood until he came to King Arthur's court; and how this\nwas the reason why men called him Lancelot du Lake.\n\nAnon it was ordained by King Arthur, that in every year at Pentecost\nthere should be held a festival of all the knights of the Round Table at\nCaerleon, or such other place as he should choose. And at those\nfestivals should be told publicly the most famous adventures of any\nknight during the past year.\n\nSo, when Sir Lancelot saw Queen Guinevere rejoiced to hear his\nwanderings and adventures, he resolved to set forth yet again, and win\nmore worship still, that he might more increase her favor. Then he bade\nhis cousin Sir Lionel make ready, \"for,\" said he, \"we two will seek\nadventure.\" So they mounted their horses--armed at all points--and rode\ninto a vast forest; and when they had passed through it, they came to a\ngreat plain, and the weather being very hot about noontide, Sir Lancelot\ngreatly longed to sleep. Then Sir Lionel espied a great apple-tree\nstanding by a hedge, and said, \"Brother, yonder is a fair shadow where\nwe may rest ourselves and horses.\"\n\n\"I am full glad of it,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"for all these seven years I\nhave not been so sleepy.\"\n\nSo they alighted there, and tied their horses up to sundry trees; and\nSir Lionel waked and watched while Sir Lancelot fell asleep, and slept\npassing fast.\n\nIn the meanwhile came three knights, riding as fast flying as ever they\ncould ride, and after them followed a single knight; but when Sir Lionel\nlooked at him, he thought he had never seen so great and strong a man,\nor so well furnished and appareled. Anon he saw him overtake the last of\nthose who fled, and smite him to the ground; then came he to the second,\nand smote him such a stroke that horse and man went to the earth; then\nrode he to the third, likewise, and struck him off his horse more than a\nspear's length. With that he lighted from his horse, and bound all three\nknights fast with the reins of their own bridles.\n\nWhen Sir Lionel saw this he thought the time was come to prove himself\nagainst him, so quietly and cautiously, lest he should wake Sir\nLancelot, he took his horse and mounted and rode after him. Presently\novertaking him, he cried aloud to him to turn, which instantly he did,\nand smote Sir Lionel so hard that horse and man went down forthwith.\nThen took he up Sir Lionel, and threw him bound over his own horse's\nback; and so he served the three other knights, and rode them away to\nhis own castle. There they were disarmed, stripped naked, and beaten\nwith thorns, and afterwards thrust into a deep prison, where many more\nknights, also, made great moans and lamentations, saying, \"Alas, alas!\nthere is no man can help us but Sir Lancelot, for no other knight can\nmatch this tyrant Turquine, our conqueror.\"\n\nBut all this while, Sir Lancelot lay sleeping soundly under the\napple-tree. And, as it chanced, there passed that way four queens, of\nhigh estate, riding upon four white mules, under four canopies of green\nsilk borne on spears, to keep them from the sun. As they rode thus,\nthey heard a great horse grimly neigh, and, turning them about, soon saw\na sleeping knight that lay all armed under an apple-tree; and when they\nsaw his face, they knew it was Sir Lancelot of the Lake.\n\nThen they began to strive which of them should have the care of him. But\nQueen Morgan le Fay, King Arthur's half sister, the great sorceress, was\none of them, and said, \"We need not strive for him, I have enchanted\nhim, so that for six hours more he shall not wake. Let us take him to my\ncastle, and, when he wakes, himself shall choose which one of us he\nwould rather serve.\" So Sir Lancelot was laid upon his shield and borne\non horseback between two knights, to the castle, and there laid in a\ncold chamber, till the spell should pass.\n\nAnon, they sent him a fair damsel, bearing his supper, who asked him,\n\"What cheer?\"\n\n\"I cannot tell, fair damsel,\" said he, \"for I know not how I came into\nthis castle, if it were not by enchantment.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"be of good heart, and to-morrow at dawn of day, ye\nshall know more.\"\n\nAnd so she left him alone, and there he lay all night. In the morning\nearly came the four queens to him, passing richly dressed; and said,\n\"Sir knight, thou must understand that thou art our prisoner, and that\nwe know thee well for King Ban's son, Sir Lancelot du Lake. And though\nwe know full well there is one lady only in this world may have thy\nlove, and she Queen Guinevere--King Arthur's wife--yet now are we\nresolved to have thee to serve one of us; choose, therefore, of us four\nwhich thou wilt serve. I am Queen Morgan le Fay, Queen of the land of\nGore, and here also is the Queen of Northgales, and the Queen of\nEastland, and the Queen of the Out Isles. Choose, then, at once, for\nelse shalt thou abide here, in this prison, till thy death.\"\n\n\"It is a hard case,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"that either I must die, or\nchoose one of you for my mistress! Yet had I rather die in this prison\nthan serve any living creature against my will. So take this for my\nanswer. I will serve none of ye, for ye be false enchantresses. And as\nfor my lady, Queen Guinevere, whom lightly ye have spoken of, were I at\nliberty I would prove it upon you or upon yours she is the truest lady\nliving to her lord the king.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the queen, \"is this your answer, that ye refuse us all?\"\n\n\"Yea, on my life,\" said Lancelot, \"refused ye be of me.\"\n\nSo they departed from him in great wrath, and left him sorrowfully\ngrieving in his dungeon.\n\nAt noon the damsel came to him and brought his dinner, and asked him as\nbefore, \"What cheer?\"\n\n\"Truly, fair damsel,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"in all my life never so ill.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied she, \"I grieve to see ye so, but if ye do as I advise, I\ncan help ye out of this distress, and will do so if you promise me a\nboon.\"\n\n\"Fair damsel,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"right willingly will I grant it\nthee, for sorely do I dread these four witch-queens, who have destroyed\nand slain many a good knight with their enchantments.\"\n\nThen said the damsel, \"Sir, wilt thou promise me to help my father on\nnext Tuesday, for he hath a tournament with the King of Northgales, and\nlast Tuesday lost the field through three knights of King Arthur's\ncourt, who came against him. And if next Tuesday thou wilt aid him,\nto-morrow, before daylight, by God's grace, I will deliver thee.\"\n\n\"Fair maiden,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"tell me thy father's name and I will\nanswer thee.\"\n\n\"My father is King Bagdemagus,\" said she.\n\n\"I know him well,\" replied Sir Lancelot, \"for a noble king and a good\nknight; and by the faith of my body I will do him all the service I am\nable on that day.\"\n\n\"Gramercy to thee, Sir knight,\" said the damsel. \"To-morrow, when thou\nart delivered from this place, ride ten miles hence unto an abbey of\nwhite monks, and there abide until I bring my father to thee.\"\n\n\"So be it,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"as I am a true knight.\"\n\nSo she departed, and on the morrow, early, came again, and let him out\nof twelve gates, differently locked, and brought him to his armor; and\nwhen he was all armed, she brought him his horse also, and lightly he\nsaddled him, and took a great spear in his hand, and mounted and rode\nforth, saying, as he went, \"Fair damsel, I shall not fail thee, by the\ngrace of God.\"\n\nAnd all that day he rode in a great forest, and could find no highway,\nand spent the night in the wood; but the next morning found his road,\nand came to the abbey of white monks. And there he saw King Bagdemagus\nand his daughter waiting for him. So when they were together in a\nchamber, Sir Lancelot told the king how he had been betrayed by an\nenchantment, and how his brother Lionel was gone he knew not where, and\nhow the damsel had delivered him from the castle of Queen Morgan le Fay.\n\"Wherefore while I live,\" said he, \"I shall do service to herself and\nall her kindred.\"\n\n\"Then am I sure of thy aid,\" said the king, \"on Tuesday now next\ncoming?\"\n\n\"Yea, sir, I shall not fail thee,\" said Sir Lancelot; \"but what knights\nwere they who last week defeated thee, and took part with the King of\nNorthgales?\"\n\n\"Sir Mador de la Port, Sir Modred, and Sir Gahalatine,\" replied the\nking.\n\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"as I understand, the tournament shall take\nplace but three miles from this abbey; send then to me here, three\nknights of thine, the best thou hast, and let them all have plain white\nshields, such as I also will; then will we four come suddenly into the\nmidst between both parties, and fall upon thy enemies, and grieve them\nall we can, and none will know us who we are.\"\n\nSo, on the Tuesday, Sir Lancelot and the three knights lodged themselves\nin a small grove hard by the lists. Then came into the field the King of\nNorthgales, with one hundred and sixty helms, and the three knights of\nKing Arthur's court, who stood apart by themselves. And when King\nBagdemagus had arrived, with eighty helms, both companies set all their\nspears in rest and came together with a mighty clash, wherein were slain\ntwelve knights of King Bagdemagus, and six of the King of Northgales;\nand the party of King Bagdemagus was driven back.\n\nWith that, came Sir Lancelot, and thrust into the thickest of the press,\nand smote down with one spear five knights, and brake the backs of four,\nand cast down the King of Northgales, and brake his thigh by the fall.\nWhen the three knights of Arthur's court saw this, they rode at Sir\nLancelot, and each after other attacked him; but he overthrew them all,\nand smote them nigh to death. Then, taking a new spear, he bore down to\nthe ground sixteen more knights, and hurt them all so sorely, that they\ncould carry arms no more that day. And when his spear at length was\nbroken, he took yet another, and smote down twelve knights more, the\nmost of whom he wounded mortally, till in the end the party of the King\nof Northgales would joust no more, and the victory was cried to King\nBagdemagus.\n\nThen Sir Lancelot rode forth with King Bagdemagus to his castle, and\nthere he feasted with great cheer and welcome, and received many royal\ngifts. And on the morrow he took leave and went to find his brother\nLionel.\n\nAnon, by chance, he came to the same forest where the four queens had\nfound him sleeping, and there he met a damsel riding on a white\npalfrey. When they had saluted each other, Sir Lancelot said, \"Fair\ndamsel, knowest thou where any adventures may be had in this country?\"\n\n\"Sir knight,\" said she, \"there are adventures great enough close by if\nthou darest prove them.\"\n\n\"Why should I not,\" said he, \"since for that cause I came here?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said the damsel, \"hard by this place there dwelleth a knight that\ncannot be defeated by any man, so great and perilously strong he is. His\nname is Sir Turquine, and in the prisons of his castle lie three score\nknights and four, mostly from King Arthur's court, whom he hath taken\nwith his own hands. But promise me, ere thou undertakest their\ndeliverance, to go and help me afterwards, and free me and many other\nladies that are distressed by a false knight.\"\n\n\"Bring me but to this felon Turquine,\" quoth Sir Lancelot, \"and I will\nafterwards fulfill all your wishes.\"\n\nSo the damsel went before, and brought him to a ford, and a tree whereon\na great brass basin hung; and Sir Lancelot beat with his spear-end upon\nthe basin, long and hard, until he beat the bottom of it out, but he saw\nnothing. Then he rode to and fro before the castle gates for wellnigh\nhalf an hour, and anon saw a great knight riding from the distance,\ndriving a horse before him, across which hung an armed man bound. And\nwhen they came near, Sir Lancelot knew the prisoner for a knight of the\nRound Table. By that time, the great knight who drove the prisoner saw\nSir Lancelot, and each of them began to settle his spear, and to make\nready.\n\n\"Fair sir,\" then said Sir Lancelot, \"put off that wounded knight, I pray\nthee, from his horse, and let him rest while thou and I shall prove our\nstrength upon each other; for, as I am told, thou doest, and hast done,\ngreat shame and injury to knights of the Round Table. Wherefore, I warn\nthee now, defend thyself.\"\n\n\"If thou mayest be of the Round Table,\" answered Turquine, \"I defy thee,\nand all thy fellows.\"\n\n\"That is saying overmuch,\" said Sir Lancelot.\n\nThen, setting their lances in rest, they spurred their horses towards\neach other, as fast as they could go, and smote so fearfully upon each\nother's shields, that both their horses' backs brake under them. As soon\nas they could clear their saddles, they took their shields before them,\nand drew their swords, and came together eagerly, and fought with great\nand grievous strokes; and soon they both had many grim and fearful\nwounds, and bled in streams. Thus they fought two hours and more,\nthrusting and smiting at each other, wherever they could hit.\n\nAnon, they both were breathless, and stood leaning on their swords.\n\n\"Now, comrade,\" said Sir Turquine, \"let us wait awhile, and answer me\nwhat I shall ask thee.\"\n\n\"Say on,\" said Lancelot.\n\n\"Thou art,\" said Turquine, \"the best man I ever met, and seemest like\none that I hate above all other knights that live; but if thou be not\nhe, I will make peace with thee, and for sake of thy great valor, will\ndeliver all the three score prisoners and four who lie within my\ndungeons, and thou and I will be companions evermore. Tell me, then, thy\nname.\"\n\n\"Thou sayest well,\" replied Sir Lancelot; \"but who is he thou hatest so\nabove all others?\"\n\n\"His name,\" said Turquine, \"is Sir Lancelot of the Lake; and he slew my\nbrother Sir Carados, at the dolorous tower; wherefore, if ever I shall\nmeet with him, one of us two shall slay the other; and thereto I have\nsworn by a great oath. And to discover and destroy him I have slain a\nhundred knights, and crippled utterly as many more, and many have died\nin my prisons; and now, as I have told thee, I have many more therein,\nwho all shall be delivered, if thou tell me thy name, and it be not Sir\nLancelot.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Lancelot, \"I am that knight, son of King Ban of Benwick,\nand Knight of the Round Table; so now I defy thee to do thy best!\"\n\n\"Aha!\" said Turquine, with a shout, \"is it then so at last! Thou art\nmore welcome to my sword than ever knight or lady was to feast, for\nnever shall we part till one of us be dead.\"\n\nThen did they hurtle together like two wild bulls, slashing and lashing\nwith their shields and swords, and sometimes falling both on to the\nground. For two more hours they fought so, and at the last Sir Turquine\ngrew very faint, and gave a little back, and bare his shield full low\nfor weariness. When Sir Lancelot saw him thus, he leaped upon him\nfiercely as a lion, and took him by the crest of his helmet, and dragged\nhim to his knees; and then he tore his helmet off and smote his neck\nasunder.\n\nThen he arose, and went to the damsel who had brought him to Sir\nTurquine, and said, \"I am ready, fair lady, to go with thee upon thy\nservice, but I have no horse.\"\n\n\"Fair sir,\" said she, \"take ye this horse of the wounded knight whom\nTurquine but just now was carrying to his prisons, and send that knight\non to deliver all the prisoners.\"\n\nSo Sir Lancelot went to the knight and prayed him for the loan of his\nhorse.\n\n\"Fair lord,\" said he, \"ye are right welcome, for to-day ye have saved\nboth me and my horse; and I see that ye are the best knight in all the\nworld, for in my sight have ye slain the mightiest man and the best\nknight, except thyself, I ever saw.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"I thank thee well; and now go into yonder\ncastle, where thou shalt find many noble knights of the Round Table, for\nI have seen their shields hung on the trees around. On yonder tree alone\nthere are Sir Key's, Sir Brandel's, Sir Marhaus', Sir Galind's, and Sir\nAliduke's, and many more; and also my two kinsmen's shields, Sir Ector\nde Maris' and Sir Lionel's. And I pray you greet them all from me, Sir\nLancelot of the Lake, and tell them that I bid them help themselves to\nany treasures they can find within the castle; and that I pray my\nbrethren, Lionel and Ector, to go to King Arthur's court and stay there\ntill I come. And by the high feast at Pentecost I must be there; but now\nI must ride forth with this damsel to fulfill my promise.\"\n\nSo, as they went, the damsel told him, \"Sir, we are now near the place\nwhere the foul knight haunteth, who robbeth and distresseth all ladies\nand gentlewomen traveling past this way, against whom I have sought thy\naid.\"\n\nThen they arranged that she should ride on foremost, and Sir Lancelot\nshould follow under cover of the trees by the roadside, and if he saw\nher come to any mishap, he should ride forth and deal with him that\ntroubled her. And as the damsel rode on at a soft ambling pace, a knight\nand page burst forth from the roadside and forced the damsel from her\nhorse, till she cried out for help.\n\nThen came Sir Lancelot rushing through the wood as fast as he might fly,\nand all the branches of the trees crackled and waved around him. \"O thou\nfalse knight and traitor to all knighthood!\" shouted he, \"who taught\nthee to distress fair ladies thus?\"\n\nThe foul knight answered nothing, but drew out his sword and rode at Sir\nLancelot, who threw his spear away and drew his own sword likewise, and\nstruck him such a mighty blow as clave his head down to the throat. \"Now\nhast thou the wages thou long hast earned!\" said he; and so departed\nfrom the damsel.\n\nThen for two days he rode in a great forest, and had but scanty food and\nlodging, and on the third day he rode over a long bridge, when suddenly\nthere started up a passing foul churl, and smote his horse across the\nnose, so that he started and turned back, rearing with pain. \"Why ridest\nthou over here without my leave?\" said he.\n\n\"Why should I not?\" said Sir Lancelot; \"there is no other way to ride.\"\n\n\"Thou shalt not pass by here,\" cried out the churl, and dashed at him\nwith a great club full of iron spikes, till Sir Lancelot was fain to\ndraw his sword and smite him dead upon the earth.\n\nAt the end of the bridge was a fair village, and all the people came and\ncried, \"Ah, sir! a worse deed for thyself thou never didst, for thou\nhast slain the chief porter of the castle yonder!\" But he let them talk\nas they pleased, and rode straight forward to the castle.\n\nThere he alighted, and tied his horse to a ring in the wall; and going\nin, he saw a wide green court, and thought it seemed a noble place to\nfight in. And as he looked about, he saw many people watching him from\ndoors and windows, making signs of warning, and saying, \"Fair knight,\nthou art unhappy.\" In the next moment came upon him two great giants,\nwell armed save their heads, and with two horrible clubs in their hands.\nThen he put his shield before him, and with it warded off one giant's\nstroke, and clove the other with his sword from the head downward to the\nchest. When the first giant saw that, he ran away mad with fear; but Sir\nLancelot ran after him, and smote him through the shoulder, and shore\nhim down his back, so that he fell dead.\n\nThen he walked onward to the castle hall, and saw a band of sixty ladies\nand young damsels coming forth, who knelt to him, and thanked him for\ntheir freedom. \"For, sir,\" said they, \"the most of us have been\nprisoners here these seven years; and have been kept at all manner of\nwork to earn our meat, though we be all great gentlewomen born. Blessed\nbe the time that thou wast born, for never did a knight a deed of\ngreater worship than thou hast this day, and thereto will we all bear\nwitness in all times and places! Tell us, therefore, noble knight, thy\nname and court, that we may tell them to our friends!\" And when they\nheard it, they all cried aloud, \"Well may it be so, for we knew that no\nknight save thou shouldst ever overcome those giants; and many a long\nday have we sighed for thee; for the giants feared no other name among\nall knights but thine.\"\n\nThen he told them to take the treasures of the castle as a reward for\ntheir grievances; and to return to their homes, and so rode away into\nmany strange and wild countries. And at last, after many days, by chance\nhe came, near the night time, to a fair mansion, wherein he found an old\ngentlewoman, who gave him and his horse good cheer. And when bed time\nwas come, his host brought him to a chamber over a gate, and there he\nunarmed, and went to bed and fell asleep.\n\nBut soon thereafter came one riding in great haste, and knocking\nvehemently at the gate below, which when Sir Lancelot heard, he rose\nand looked out of the window, and, by the moonlight, saw three knights\ncome riding fiercely after one man, and lashing on him all at once with\ntheir swords, while the one knight nobly fought them all.\n\nThen Sir Lancelot quickly armed himself, and getting through the window,\nlet himself down by a sheet into the midst of them, crying out, \"Turn ye\non me, ye cowards, and leave fighting with that knight!\" Then they all\nleft Sir Key, for the first knight was he, and began to fall upon Sir\nLancelot furiously. And when Sir Key would have come forward to assist\nhim, Sir Lancelot refused, and cried, \"Leave me alone to deal with\nthem.\" And presently, with six great strokes, he felled them all.\n\nThen they cried out, \"Sir knight, we yield us unto thee, as to a man of\nmight!\"\n\n\"I will not take your yielding!\" said he; \"yield ye to Sir Key, the\nseneschal, or I will have your lives.\"\n\n\"Fair knight,\" said they, \"excuse us in that thing, for we have chased\nSir Key thus far, and should have overcome him but for thee.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"do as ye will, for ye may live or die; but,\nif ye live, ye shall be holden to Sir Key.\"\n\nThen they yielded to him; and Sir Lancelot commanded them to go unto\nKing Arthur's court at the next Pentecost, and say, Sir Key had sent\nthem prisoners to Queen Guinevere. And this they sware to do upon their\nswords.\n\nThen Sir Lancelot knocked at the gate with his sword-hilt till his\nhostess came and let him in again, and Sir Key also. And when the light\ncame, Sir Key knew Sir Lancelot, and knelt and thanked him for his\ncourtesy, and gentleness, and kindness. \"Sir,\" said he, \"I have done no\nmore than what I ought to do, and ye are welcome; therefore let us now\ntake rest.\"\n\nSo when Sir Key had supped, they went to sleep, and Sir Lancelot and he\nslept in the same bed. On the morrow, Sir Lancelot rose early, and took\nSir Key's shield and armor and set forth. When Sir Key arose, he found\nSir Lancelot's armor by his bedside, and his own arms gone. \"Now, by my\nfaith,\" thought he, \"I know that he will grieve some knights of our\nking's court; for those who meet him will be bold to joust with him,\nmistaking him for me, while I, dressed in his shield and armor, shall\nsurely ride in peace.\"\n\nThen Sir Lancelot, dressed in Sir Key's apparel, rode long in a great\nforest, and came at last to a low country, full of rivers and fair\nmeadows, and saw a bridge before him, whereon were three silk tents of\ndivers colors, and to each tent was hung a white shield, and by each\nshield stood a knight. So Sir Lancelot went by without speaking a word.\nAnd when he had passed, the three knights said it was the proud Sir Key,\n\"who thinketh no knight equal to himself, although the contrary is full\noften proved upon him.\"\n\n\"By my faith!\" said one of them, named Gaunter, \"I will ride after and\nattack him for all his pride, and ye shall watch my speed.\"\n\nThen, taking shield and spear, he mounted and rode after Sir Lancelot,\nand cried, \"Abide, proud knight, and turn, for thou shalt not pass\nfree!\"\n\nSo Sir Lancelot turned, and each one put his spear in rest and came with\nall his might against the other. And Sir Gaunter's spear brake short,\nbut Sir Lancelot smote him down, both horse and man.\n\nWhen the other knights saw this, they said, \"Yonder is not Sir Key, but\na bigger man.\"\n\n\"I dare wager my head,\" said Sir Gilmere, \"yonder knight hath slain Sir\nKey, and taken his horse and harness.\"\n\n\"Be it so, or not,\" said Sir Reynold, the third brother; \"let us now go\nto our brother Gaunter's rescue; we shall have enough to do to match\nthat knight, for, by his stature, I believe it is Sir Lancelot or Sir\nTristram.\"\n\nAnon, they took their horses and galloped after Sir Lancelot; and Sir\nGilmere first assailed him, but was smitten down forthwith, and lay\nstunned on the earth. Then said Sir Reynold, \"Sir knight, thou art a\nstrong man, and, I believe, hast slain my two brothers, wherefore my\nheart is sore against thee; yet, if I might with honor, I would avoid\nthee. Nevertheless, that cannot be, so keep thyself.\" And so they\nhurtled together with all their might, and each man shivered his spear\nto pieces; and then they drew their swords and lashed out eagerly.\n\nAnd as they fought, Sir Gaunter and Sir Gilmere presently arose and\nmounted once again, and came down at full tilt upon Sir Lancelot. But,\nwhen he saw them coming, he put forth all his strength, and struck Sir\nReynold off his horse. Then, with two other strokes, he served the\nothers likewise.\n\nAnon, Sir Reynold crept along the ground, with his head all bloody, and\ncame towards Sir Lancelot. \"It is enough,\" said Lancelot, \"I was not far\nfrom thee when thou wast made a knight, Sir Reynold, and know thee for a\ngood and valiant man, and was full loth to slay thee.\"\n\n\"Gramercy for thy gentleness!\" said Sir Reynold. \"I and my brethren will\nstraightway yield to thee when we know thy name, for well we know that\nthou art not Sir Key.\"\n\n\"As for that,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"be it as it may, but ye shall yield\nto Queen Guinevere at the next Feast of Pentecost as prisoners, and say\nthat Sir Key sent ye.\"\n\nThen they swore to him it should be done as he commanded. And so Sir\nLancelot passed on, and the three brethren helped each other's wounds as\nbest they might.\n\nThen rode Sir Lancelot forward into a deep forest, and came upon four\nknights of King Arthur's court, under an oak tree--Sir Sagramour, Sir\nEctor, Sir Gawain, and Sir Ewaine. And when they spied him, they thought\nhe was Sir Key. \"Now by my faith,\" said Sir Sagramour, \"I will prove Sir\nKey's might!\" and taking his spear he rode towards Sir Lancelot.\n\nBut Sir Lancelot was aware of him, and, setting his spear in rest,\nsmote him so sorely, that horse and man fell to the earth.\n\n\"Lo!\" cried Sir Ector, \"I see by the buffet that knight hath given our\nfellow he is stronger than Sir Key. Now will I try what I can do against\nhim!\" So Sir Ector took his spear, and galloped at Sir Lancelot; and Sir\nLancelot met him as he came, and smote him through shield and shoulder,\nso that he fell, but his own spear was not broken.\n\n\"By my faith,\" cried Sir Ewaine, \"yonder is a strong knight, and must\nhave slain Sir Key, and taken his armor! By his strength, I see it will\nbe hard to match him.\" So saying he rode towards Sir Lancelot, who met\nhim halfway and struck him so fiercely, that at one blow he overthrew\nhim also.\n\n\"Now,\" said Sir Gawain, \"will I encounter him.\" So he took a good spear\nin his hand, and guarded himself with his shield. And he and Sir\nLancelot rode against each other, with their horses at full speed, and\nfuriously smote each other on the middle of their shields; but Sir\nGawain's spear broke short asunder, and Sir Lancelot charged so mightily\nupon him, that his horse and he both fell, and rolled upon the ground.\n\n\"Ah,\" said Sir Lancelot, smiling, as he rode away from the four knights,\n\"heaven give joy to him who made this spear, for never held I better in\nmy hand.\"\n\nBut the four knights said to each other, \"Truly one spear hath felled us\nall.\"\n\n\"I dare lay my life,\" said Sir Gawain, \"it is Sir Lancelot. I know him\nby his riding.\"\n\nSo they all departed for the court.\n\nAnd as Sir Lancelot rode still in the forest, he saw a black bloodhound,\nrunning with its head towards the ground, as if it tracked a deer. And\nfollowing after it, he came to a great pool of blood. But the hound,\never and anon looking behind, ran through a great marsh, and over a\nbridge, towards an old manor house. So Sir Lancelot followed, and went\ninto the hall, and saw a dead knight lying there, whose wounds the hound\nlicked. And a lady stood behind him, weeping and wringing her hands, who\ncried, \"O knight! too great is the sorrow which thou hast brought me!\"\n\n\"Why say ye so?\" replied Sir Lancelot; \"for I never harmed this knight,\nand am full sorely grieved to see thy sorrow.\"\n\n\"Nay, sir,\" said the lady, \"I see it is not thou hast slain my husband,\nfor he that truly did that deed is deeply wounded, and shall never more\nrecover.\"\n\n\"What is thy husband's name?\" said Sir Lancelot.\n\n\"His name,\" she answered, \"was Sir Gilbert--one of the best knights in\nall the world; but I know not his name who hath slain him.\"\n\n\"God send thee comfort,\" said Sir Lancelot, and departed again into the\nforest.\n\nAnd as he rode, he met with a damsel who knew him, who cried out, \"Well\nfound, my lord! I pray ye of your knighthood help my brother, who is\nsore wounded and ceases not to bleed, for he fought this day with Sir\nGilbert, and slew him, but was himself well nigh slain. And there is a\nsorceress, who dwelleth in a castle hard by, and she this day hath told\nme that my brother's wound shall never be made whole until I find a\nknight to go into the Chapel Perilous, and bring from thence a sword and\nthe bloody cloth in which the wounded knight was wrapped.\"\n\n\"This is a marvelous thing!\" said Sir Lancelot; \"but what is your\nbrother's name?\"\n\n\"His name, sir,\" she replied, \"is Sir Meliot de Logres.\"\n\n\"He is a Fellow of the Round Table,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"and truly will\nI do my best to help him.\"\n\n\"Then, sir,\" said she, \"follow this way, and it will bring ye to the\nChapel Perilous. I will abide here till God send ye hither again; for if\nye speed not, there is no living knight who may achieve that adventure.\"\n\nSo Sir Lancelot departed, and when he came to the Chapel Perilous he\nalighted, and tied his horse to the gate. And as soon as he was within\nthe churchyard, he saw on the front of the chapel many shields of\nknights whom he had known, turned upside down. Then saw he in the\npathway thirty mighty knights, taller than any men whom he had ever\nseen, all armed in black armor, with their swords drawn; and they\ngnashed their teeth upon him as he came. But he put his shield before\nhim, and took his sword in hand, ready to do battle with them. And when\nhe would have cut his way through them, they scattered on every side and\nlet him pass. Then he went into the chapel, and saw therein no light but\nof a dim lamp burning. Then he was aware of a corpse in the midst of the\nchapel, covered with a silken cloth, and so stooped down and cut off a\npiece of the cloth, whereat the earth beneath him trembled. Then saw he\na sword lying by the dead knight, and taking it in his hand, he hied him\nfrom the chapel. As soon as he was in the churchyard again, all the\nthirty knights cried out to him with fierce voices, \"Sir Lancelot! lay\nthat sword from thee, or thou diest!\"\n\n\"Whether I live or die,\" said he, \"ye shall fight for it ere ye take it\nfrom me.\"\n\nWith that they let him pass.\n\nAnd further on, beyond the chapel, he met a fair damsel, who said, \"Sir\nLancelot, leave that sword behind thee, or thou diest.\"\n\n\"I will not leave it,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"for any asking.\"\n\n\"Then, gentle knight,\" said the damsel, \"I pray thee kiss me once.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"that God forbid!\"\n\n\"Alas!\" cried she, \"I have lost all my labor! but hadst thou kissed me,\nthy life's days had been all done!\"\n\n\"Heaven save me from thy subtle crafts!\" said Sir Lancelot; and\ntherewith took his horse and galloped forth.\n\nAnd when he was departed, the damsel sorrowed greatly, and died in\nfifteen days. Her name was Ellawes, the sorceress.\n\nThen came Sir Lancelot to Sir Meliot's sister, who, when she saw him,\nclapped her hands and wept for joy, and took him to the castle hard by,\nwhere Sir Meliot was. And when Sir Lancelot saw Sir Meliot, he knew him,\nthough he was pale as ashes for loss of blood. And Sir Meliot, when he\nsaw Sir Lancelot, kneeled to him and cried aloud, \"O lord, Sir Lancelot!\nhelp me!\"\n\nAnd thereupon, Sir Lancelot went to him and touched his wounds with the\nsword, and wiped them with the piece of bloody cloth. And immediately he\nwas as whole as though he had been never wounded. Then was there great\njoy between him and Sir Meliot; and his sister made Sir Lancelot good\ncheer. So on the morrow, he took his leave, that he might go to King\nArthur's court, \"for,\" said he, \"it draweth nigh the Feast of Pentecost,\nand there, by God's grace, shall ye then find me.\"\n\nAnd riding through many strange countries, over marshes and valleys, he\ncame at length before a castle. As he passed by he heard two little\nbells ringing, and looking up, he saw a falcon flying overhead, with\nbells tied to her feet, and long strings dangling from them. And as the\nfalcon flew past an elm-tree, the strings caught in the boughs, so that\nshe could fly no further.\n\nIn the meanwhile, came a lady from the castle, and cried, \"Oh, Sir\nLancelot! as thou art the flower of all knights in the world, help me to\nget my hawk, for she hath slipped away from me, and if she be lost, my\nlord my husband is so hasty, he will surely slay me!\"\n\n\"What is thy lord's name?\" said Sir Lancelot.\n\n\"His name,\" said she, \"is Sir Phelot, a knight of the King of\nNorthgales.\"\n\n\"Fair lady,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"since you know my name, and require me,\non my knighthood, to help you, I will do what I can to get your hawk.\"\n\nAnd thereupon alighting, he tied his horse to the same tree, and prayed\nthe lady to unarm him. So when he was unarmed, he climbed up and reached\nthe falcon, and threw it to the lady.\n\nThen suddenly came down, out of the wood, her husband, Sir Phelot, all\narmed, with a drawn sword in his hand, and said, \"Oh, Sir Lancelot! now\nhave I found thee as I would have thee!\" and stood at the trunk of the\ntree to slay him.\n\n\"Ah, lady!\" cried Sir Lancelot, \"why have ye betrayed me?\"\n\n\"She hath done as I commanded her,\" said Sir Phelot, \"and thine hour is\ncome that thou must die.\"\n\n\"It were shame,\" said Lancelot, \"for an armed to slay an unarmed man.\"\n\n\"Thou hast no other favor from me,\" said Sir Phelot.\n\n\"Alas!\" cried Sir Lancelot, \"that ever any knight should die\nweaponless!\" And looking overhead, he saw a great bough without leaves,\nand wrenched it off the tree, and suddenly leaped down. Then Sir Phelot\nstruck at him eagerly, thinking to have slain him, but Sir Lancelot put\naside the stroke with the bough, and therewith smote him on the side of\nthe head, till he fell swooning to the ground. And tearing his sword\nfrom out his hands, he shore his neck through from the body. Then did\nthe lady shriek dismally, and swooned as though she would die. But Sir\nLancelot put on his armor, and with haste took his horse and departed\nthence, thanking God he had escaped that peril.\n\nAnd as he rode through a valley, among many wild ways, he saw a knight,\nwith a drawn sword, chasing a lady to slay her. And seeing Sir Lancelot,\nshe cried and prayed to him to come and rescue her.\n\nAt that he went up, saying, \"Fie on thee, knight! why wilt thou slay\nthis lady? Thou doest shame to thyself and all knights.\"\n\n\"What hast thou to do between me and my wife?\" replied the knight. \"I\nwill slay her in spite of thee.\"\n\n\"Thou shalt not harm her,\" said Lancelot, \"till we have first fought\ntogether.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" answered the knight, \"thou doest ill, for this lady hath betrayed\nme.\"\n\n\"He speaketh falsely,\" said the lady, \"for he is jealous of me without\ncause, as I shall answer before Heaven; but as thou art named the most\nworshipful knight in the world, I pray thee of thy true knighthood to\nsave me, for he is without mercy.\"\n\n\"Be of good cheer,\" said Sir Lancelot; \"it shall not lie within his\npower to harm thee.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said the knight, \"I will be ruled as ye will have me.\"\n\nSo Sir Lancelot rode between the knight and the lady. And when they had\nridden awhile, the knight cried out suddenly to Sir Lancelot to turn and\nsee what men they were who came riding after them; and while Sir\nLancelot, thinking not of treason, turned to look, the knight, with one\ngreat stroke, smote off the lady's head.\n\nThen was Sir Lancelot passing wroth, and cried, \"Thou traitor! Thou hast\nshamed me forever!\" and, alighting from his horse, he drew his sword to\nhave slain him instantly; but the knight fell on the ground and clasped\nSir Lancelot's knees, and cried out for mercy. \"Thou shameful knight,\"\nanswered Lancelot, \"thou mayest have no mercy, for thou showedst none,\ntherefore arise and fight with me.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the knight, \"I will not rise till thou dost grant me mercy.\"\n\n\"Now will I deal fairly by thee,\" said Sir Lancelot; \"I will unarm me to\nmy shirt, and have my sword only in my hand, and if thou canst slay me\nthou shalt be quit forever.\"\n\n\"That will I never do,\" said the knight.\n\n\"Then,\" answered Sir Lancelot, \"take this lady and the head, and bear it\nwith thee, and swear to me upon thy sword never to rest until thou\ncomest to Queen Guinevere.\"\n\n\"That will I do,\" said he.\n\n\"Now,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"tell me thy name.\"\n\n\"It is Pedivere,\" answered the knight.\n\n\"In a shameful hour wert thou born,\" said Sir Lancelot.\n\nSo Sir Pedivere departed, bearing with him the dead lady and her head.\nAnd when he came to Winchester, where the Queen was with King Arthur, he\ntold them all the truth; and afterwards did great and heavy penance\nmany years, and became an holy hermit.\n\nSo, two days before the Feast of Pentecost, Sir Lancelot returned to the\ncourt, and King Arthur was full glad of his coming. And when Sir Gawain,\nSir Ewaine, Sir Sagramour, and Sir Ector, saw him in Sir Key's armor,\nthey knew well it was he who had smitten them all down with one spear.\nAnon, came all the knights Sir Turquine had taken prisoners, and gave\nworship and honor to Sir Lancelot. Then Sir Key told the King how Sir\nLancelot had rescued him when he was in near danger of his death; \"and,\"\nsaid Sir Key, \"he made the knights yield, not to himself, but me. And by\nHeaven! because Sir Lancelot took my armor and left me his, I rode in\npeace, and no man would have aught to do with me.\" Then came the knights\nwho fought with Sir Lancelot at the long bridge and yielded themselves\nalso to Sir Key, but he said nay, he had not fought with them. \"It is\nSir Lancelot,\" said he, \"that overcame ye.\" Next came Sir Meliot de\nLogres, and told King Arthur how Sir Lancelot had saved him from death.\n\nAnd so all Sir Lancelot's deeds and great adventures were made known;\nhow the four sorceress-queens had him in prison; how he was delivered by\nthe daughter of King Bagdemagus, and what deeds of arms he did at the\ntournament between the King of North Wales and King Bagdemagus. And so,\nat that festival, Sir Lancelot had the greatest name of any knight in\nall the world, and by high and low was he the most honored of all men.\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nTHE ADVENTURES OF SIR BEAUMAINS OR SIR GARETH\n\n\nAgain King Arthur held the Feast of Pentecost, with all the Table Round,\nand after his custom sat in the banquet hall, before beginning meat,\nwaiting for some adventure. Then came there to the king a squire and\nsaid, \"Lord, now may ye go to meat, for here a damsel cometh with some\nstrange adventure.\" So the king was glad, and sat down to meat.\n\nAnon the damsel came in and saluted him, praying him for succor. \"What\nwilt thou?\" said the king. \"Lord,\" answered she, \"my mistress is a lady\nof great renown, but is at this time besieged by a tyrant, who will not\nsuffer her to go out of her castle; and because here in thy court the\nknights are called the noblest in the world, I come to pray thee for thy\nsuccor.\" \"Where dwelleth your lady?\" answered the king. \"What is her\nname, and who is he that hath besieged her?\" \"For her name,\" replied the\ndamsel, \"as yet I may not tell it; but she is a lady of worship and\ngreat lands. The tyrant that besiegeth her and wasteth her lands is\ncalled the Red Knight of the Redlands.\" \"I know him not,\" said Arthur.\n\"But I know him, lord,\" said Sir Gawain, \"and he is one of the most\nperilous knights in all the world. Men say he hath the strength of\nseven; and from him I myself once hardly escaped with life.\" \"Fair\ndamsel,\" said the king, \"there be here many knights that would gladly do\ntheir uttermost to rescue your lady, but unless ye tell me her name, and\nwhere she dwelleth, none of my knights shall go with you by my leave.\"\n\nNow, there was a stripling at the court called Beaumains, who served in\nthe king's kitchen, a fair youth and of great stature. Twelve months\nbefore this time he had come to the king as he sat at meat, at\nWhitsuntide, and prayed three gifts of him. And being asked what gifts,\nhe answered, \"As for the first gift I will ask it now, but the other two\ngifts I will ask on this day twelve months, wheresoever ye hold your\nhigh feast.\" Then said King Arthur, \"What is thy first request?\" \"This,\nlord,\" said he, \"that thou wilt give me meat and drink enough for twelve\nmonths from this time, and then will I ask my other two gifts.\" And the\nking seeing that he was a goodly youth, and deeming that he was come of\nhonorable blood, had granted his desire, and given him into the charge\nof Sir Key, the steward. But Sir Key scorned and mocked the youth,\ncalling Beaumains, because his hands were large and fair, and putting\nhim into the kitchen, where he had served for twelve months as a\nscullion, and, in spite of all his churlish treatment, had faithfully\nobeyed Sir Key. But Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawain were angered when they\nsaw Sir Key so churlish to a youth that had so worshipful a bearing,\nand ofttimes had they given him gold and clothing.\n\nAnd now at this time came young Beaumains to the king, while the damsel\nwas there, and said, \"Lord, now I thank thee well and heartily that I\nhave been twelve months kept in thy kitchen, and have had full\nsustenance. Now will I ask my two remaining gifts.\" \"Ask,\" said King\nArthur, \"on my good faith.\" \"These, lord,\" said he, \"shall be my two\ngifts--the one, that thou wilt grant me this adventure of the damsel,\nfor to me of right it belongeth; and the other, that thou wilt bid Sir\nLancelot make me a knight, for of him only will I have that honor; and I\npray that he may ride after me and make me a knight when I require him.\"\n\"Be it as thou wilt,\" replied the king. But thereupon the damsel was\nfull wroth, and said, \"Shall I have a kitchen page for this adventure?\"\nand so she took horse and departed.\n\nThen came one to Beaumains, and told him that a dwarf with a horse and\narmor were waiting for him. And all men marveled whence these things\ncame. But when he was on horseback and armed, scarce any one at the\ncourt was a goodlier man than he. And coming into the hall, he took his\nleave of the king and Sir Gawain, and prayed Sir Lancelot to follow him.\nSo he rode after the damsel, and many of the court went out to see him,\nso richly arrayed and horsed; yet he had neither shield nor spear. Then\nSir Key cried, \"I also will ride after the kitchen boy, and see whether\nhe will obey me now.\" And taking his horse, he rode after him, and\nsaid, \"Know ye not me, Beaumains?\" \"Yea,\" said he, \"I know thee for an\nungentle knight, therefore beware of me.\" Then Sir Key put his spear in\nrest and ran at him, but Beaumains rushed upon him with his sword in his\nhand, and therewith, putting aside the spear, struck Sir Key so sorely\nin the side, that he fell down, as if dead. Then he alighted, and took\nhis shield and spear, and bade his dwarf ride upon Sir Key's horse.\n\nBy this time, Sir Lancelot had come up, and Beaumains offering to tilt\nwith him, they both made ready. And their horses came together so\nfiercely that both fell to the earth, full sorely bruised. Then they\narose, and Beaumains, putting up his shield before him, offered to fight\nSir Lancelot, on foot. So they rushed upon each other, striking, and\nthrusting, and parrying, for the space of an hour. And Lancelot marveled\nat the strength of Beaumains, for he fought more like a giant than a\nman, and his fighting was passing fierce and terrible. So, at the last,\nhe said, \"Fight not so sorely, Beaumains; our quarrel is not such that\nwe may not now cease.\" \"True,\" answered Beaumains; \"yet it doth me good\nto feel thy might, though I have not yet proved my uttermost.\" \"By my\nfaith,\" said Lancelot, \"I had as much as I could do to save myself from\nyou unshamed, therefore be in no doubt of any earthly knight.\" \"May I,\nthen, stand as a proved knight?\" said Beaumains. \"For that will I be thy\nwarrant,\" answered Lancelot. \"Then, I pray thee,\" said he, \"give me the\norder of knighthood.\" \"First, then, must thou tell me of thy name and\nkindred,\" said Sir Lancelot. \"If thou wilt tell them to no other, I will\ntell thee,\" answered he. \"My name is Gareth of Orkney, and I am own\nbrother to Sir Gawain.\" \"Ah!\" said Sir Lancelot, \"at that am I full\nglad; for, truly, I deemed thee to be of gentle blood.\" So then he\nknighted Beaumains, and, after that, they parted company, and Sir\nLancelot, returning to the court, took up Sir Key on his shield. And\nhardly did Sir Key escape with his life, from the wound Beaumains had\ngiven him; but all men blamed him for his ungentle treatment of so brave\na knight.\n\nThen Sir Beaumains rode forward, and soon overtook the damsel; but she\nsaid to him, in scorn, \"Return again, base kitchen page! What art thou,\nbut a washer-up of dishes!\" \"Damsel,\" said he, \"say to me what thou\nwilt, I will not leave thee; for I have undertaken to King Arthur to\nrelieve thy adventure, and I will finish it to the end, or die.\" \"Thou\nfinish my adventure!\" said she--\"anon, thou shalt meet one, whose face\nthou wilt not even dare to look at.\" \"I shall attempt it,\" answered he.\nSo, as they rode thus, into a wood, there met them a man, fleeing, as\nfor his life. \"Whither fleest thou?\" said Sir Beaumains. \"O lord!\" he\nanswered, \"help me; for, in a valley hard by, there are six thieves, who\nhave taken my lord, and bound him, and I fear will slay him.\" \"Bring me\nthither,\" said Sir Beaumains. So they rode to the place, and Sir\nBeaumains rushed after the thieves, and smote one, at the first stroke,\nso that he died; and then, with two other blows, slew a second and\nthird. Then fled the other three, and Sir Beaumains rode after them, and\novertook and slew them all. Then he returned and unbound the knight. And\nthe knight thanked him, and prayed him to ride to his castle, where he\nwould reward him. \"Sir,\" answered Sir Beaumains, \"I will have no reward\nof thee, for but this day was I made knight by the most noble Sir\nLancelot; and besides, I must go with this damsel.\" Then the knight\nbegged the damsel to rest that night at his castle. So they all rode\nthither, and ever the damsel scoffed at Sir Beaumains as a kitchen boy,\nand laughed at him before the knight their host, so that he set his meat\nbefore him at a lower table, as though he were not of their company.\n\nAnd on the morrow, the damsel and Sir Beaumains took their leave of the\nknight, and thanking him departed. Then they rode on their way till they\ncame to a great forest, through which flowed a river, and there was but\none passage over it, whereat stood two knights armed to hinder the way.\n\"Wilt thou match those two knights,\" said the damsel to Sir Beaumains,\n\"or return again?\" \"I would not return,\" said he, \"though they were\nsix.\" Therewith he galloped into the water, and swam his horse into the\nmiddle of the stream. And there, in the river, one of the knights met\nhim, and they brake their spears together, and then drew their swords,\nand smote fiercely at each other. And at the last, Sir Beaumains struck\nthe other mightily upon the helm, so that he fell down stunned into the\nwater, and was drowned. Then Sir Beaumains spurred his horse on to the\nland, where instantly the other knight fell on him. And they also brake\ntheir spears upon each other, and then drew their swords, and fought\nsavagely and long together. And after many blows, Sir Beaumains clove\nthrough the knight's skull down to the shoulders. Then rode Sir\nBeaumains to the damsel, but ever she still scoffed at him, and said,\n\"Alas! that a kitchen page should chance to slay two such brave knights!\nThou deemest now that thou hast done a mighty deed, but it is not so;\nfor the first knight's horse stumbled, and thus was he drowned--not by\nthy strength; and as for the second knight, thou wentest by chance\nbehind him, and didst kill him shamefully.\" \"Damsel,\" said Sir\nBeaumains, \"say what ye list, I care not so I may win your lady; and\nwouldst thou give me but fair language, all my care were past; for\nwhatsoever knights I meet, I fear them not.\" \"Thou shalt see knights\nthat shall abate thy boast, base kitchen knave,\" replied she; \"yet say I\nthis for thine advantage, for if thou followest me thou wilt be surely\nslain, since I see all thou doest is but by chance, and not by thy own\nprowess.\" \"Well, damsel,\" said he, \"say what ye will, wherever ye go I\nwill follow.\"\n\nSo they rode on until the eventide, and still the damsel evermore kept\nchiding Sir Beaumains. Then came they to a black space of land, whereon\nwas a black hawthorn tree, and on the tree there hung a black banner,\nand on the other side was a black shield and spear, and by them a great\nblack horse, covered with silk; and hard by sat a knight armed in black\narmor, whose name was the Knight of the Blacklands. When the damsel saw\nhim, she cried out to Beaumains, \"Flee down the valley, for thy horse is\nnot saddled!\" \"Wilt thou forever deem me coward?\" answered he. With that\ncame the Black Knight to the damsel, and said, \"Fair damsel, hast thou\nbrought this knight from Arthur's court to be thy champion?\" \"Not so,\nfair knight,\" said she; \"he is but a kitchen knave.\" \"Then wherefore\ncometh he in such array?\" said he; \"it is a shame that he should bear\nthee company.\" \"I cannot be delivered from him,\" answered she: \"for in\nspite of me he rideth with me; and would to Heaven you would put him\nfrom me, or now slay him, for he hath slain two knights at the river\npassage yonder, and done many marvelous deeds through pure mischance.\"\n\"I marvel,\" said the Black Knight, \"that any man of worship will fight\nwith him.\" \"They know him not,\" said the damsel, \"and think, because he\nrideth with me, that he is well born.\" \"Truly, he hath a goodly person,\nand is likely to be a strong man,\" replied the knight; \"but since he is\nno man of worship, he shall leave his horse and armor with me, for it\nwere a shame for me to do him more harm.\"\n\nWhen Sir Beaumains heard him speak thus, he said, \"Horse or armor\ngettest thou none of me, Sir knight, save thou winnest them with thy\nhands; therefore defend thyself, and let me see what thou canst do.\"\n\"How sayest thou?\" answered the Black Knight. \"Now quit this lady also,\nfor it beseemeth not a kitchen knave like thee to ride with such a\nlady.\" \"I am of higher lineage than thou,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"and will\nstraightway prove it on thy body.\" Then furiously they drove their\nhorses at each other, and came together as it had been thunder. But the\nBlack Knight's spear brake short, and Sir Beaumains thrust him through\nthe side, and his spear breaking at the head, left its point sticking\nfast in the Black Knight's body. Yet did the Black Knight draw his\nsword, and smite at Sir Beaumains with many fierce and bitter blows; but\nafter they had fought an hour and more, he fell down from his horse in a\nswoon, and forthwith died. Then Sir Beaumains lighted down and armed\nhimself in the Black Knight's armor, and rode on after the damsel. But\nnotwithstanding all his valor, still she scoffed at him, and said,\n\"Away! for thou savorest ever of the kitchen. Alas! that such a knave\nshould by mishap destroy so good a knight; yet once again I counsel thee\nto flee, for hard by is a knight who shall repay thee!\" \"It may chance\nthat I am beaten or slain,\" answered Sir Beaumains, \"but I warn thee,\nfair damsel, that I will not flee away, nor leave thy company, or my\nquest, for all that ye can say.\"\n\nAnon, as they rode, they saw a knight come swiftly towards them, dressed\nall in green, who, calling to the damsel said, \"Is that my brother, the\nBlack Knight, that ye have brought with you?\" \"Nay, and alas!\" said she,\n\"this kitchen knave hath slain thy brother through mischance.\" \"Alas!\"\nsaid the Green Knight, \"that such a noble knight as he was should be\nslain by a knave's hand. Traitor!\" cried he to Sir Beaumains, \"thou\nshalt die for this! Sir Pereard was my brother, and a full noble\nknight.\" \"I defy thee,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"for I slew him knightly and\nnot shamefully.\" Then the Green Knight rode to a thorn whereon hung a\ngreen horn, and, when he blew three notes, there came three damsels\nforth, who quickly armed him, and brought him a great horse and a green\nshield and spear. Then did they run at one another with their fullest\nmight, and break their spears asunder; and, drawing their swords, they\nclosed in fight, and sorely smote and wounded each other with many\ngrievous blows.\n\nAt last, Sir Beaumains' horse jostled against the Green Knight's horse,\nand overthrew him. Then both alighted, and, hurtling together like mad\nlions, fought a great while on foot. But the damsel cheered the Green\nKnight, and said, \"My lord, why wilt thou let a kitchen knave so long\nstand up against thee?\" Hearing these words, he was ashamed, and gave\nSir Beaumains such a mighty stroke as clave his shield asunder. When Sir\nBeaumains heard the damsel's words, and felt that blow, he waxed passing\nwroth, and gave the Green Knight such a buffet on the helm that he fell\non his knees, and with another blow Sir Beaumains threw him on the\nground. Then the Green Knight yielded, and prayed him to spare his life.\n\"All thy prayers are vain,\" said he, \"unless this damsel who came with\nme pray for thee.\" \"That will I never do, base kitchen knave,\" said she.\n\"Then shall he die,\" said Beaumains. \"Alas! fair lady,\" said the Green\nKnight, \"suffer me not to die for a word! O, Sir knight,\" cried he to\nBeaumains, \"give me my life, and I will ever do thee homage; and thirty\nknights, who owe me service, shall give allegiance to thee.\" \"All\navaileth not,\" answered Sir Beaumains, \"unless the damsel ask me for thy\nlife\"; and thereupon he made as though he would have slain him. Then\ncried the damsel, \"Slay him not; for if thou do thou shalt repent it.\"\n\"Damsel,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"at thy command, he shall obtain his life.\nArise, Sir knight of the green armor, I release thee!\" Then the Green\nKnight knelt at his feet, and did him homage with his words. \"Lodge with\nme this night,\" said he, \"and to-morrow will I guide ye through the\nforest.\" So, taking their horses, they rode to his castle, which was\nhard by.\n\nYet still did the damsel rebuke and scoff at Sir Beaumains, and would\nnot suffer him to sit at her table. \"I marvel,\" said the Green Knight to\nher, \"that ye thus chide so noble a knight, for truly I know none to\nmatch him; and be sure, that whatsoever he appeareth now, he will prove,\nat the end, of noble blood and royal lineage.\" But of all this would the\ndamsel take no heed, and ceased not to mock at Sir Beaumains. On the\nmorrow, they arose and heard mass; and when they had broken their fast,\ntook their horses and rode on their way, the Green Knight conveying them\nthrough the forest. Then, when he had led them for a while, he said to\nSir Beaumains, \"My lord, my thirty knights and I shall always be at thy\ncommand whensoever thou shalt send for us.\" \"It is well said,\" replied\nhe; \"and when I call upon you, you shall yield yourself and all your\nknights unto King Arthur.\" \"That will we gladly do,\" said the Green\nKnight, and so departed.\n\nAnd the damsel rode on before Sir Beaumains, and said to him, \"Why dost\nthou follow me, thou kitchen boy? I counsel thee to throw aside thy\nspear and shield, and flee betimes, for wert thou as mighty as Sir\nLancelot or Sir Tristram, thou shouldest not pass a valley near this\nplace, called the Pass Perilous.\" \"Damsel,\" answered he, \"let him that\nfeareth flee; as for me, it were indeed a shameful thing to turn after\nso long a journey.\" As he spake, they came upon a tower as white as\nsnow, with mighty battlements, and double moats round it, and over the\ntower-gate hung fifty shields of divers colors. Before the tower walls,\nthey saw a fair meadow, wherein were many knights and squires in\npavilions, for on the morrow there was a tournament at that castle.\n\nThen the lord of the castle, seeing a knight armed at all points, with a\ndamsel and a page, riding towards the tower, came forth to meet them;\nand his horse and harness, with his shield and spear, were all of a red\ncolor. When he came near Sir Beaumains, and saw his armor all of black,\nhe thought him his own brother, the Black Knight, and so cried aloud,\n\"Brother! what do ye here, within these borders?\" \"Nay!\" said the\ndamsel, \"it is not thy brother, but a kitchen knave of Arthur's court,\nwho hath slain thy brother, and overcome thy other brother also, the\nGreen Knight.\" \"Now do I defy thee!\" cried the Red Knight to Sir\nBeaumains, and put his spear in rest and spurred his horse. Then both\nknights turned back a little space, and ran together with all their\nmight, till their horses fell to the earth. Then, with their swords,\nthey fought fiercely for the space of three hours. And at last, Sir\nBeaumains overcame his foe, and smote him to the ground. Then the Red\nKnight prayed his mercy, and said, \"Slay me not, noble knight, and I\nwill yield to thee with sixty knights that do my bidding.\" \"All avails\nnot,\" answered Sir Beaumains, \"save this damsel pray me to release\nthee.\" Then did he lift his sword to slay him; but the damsel cried\naloud, \"Slay him not, Beaumains, for he is a noble knight.\" Then Sir\nBeaumains bade him rise up and thank the damsel, which straightway he\ndid, and afterwards invited them to his castle, and made them goodly\ncheer.\n\nBut notwithstanding all Sir Beaumains' mighty deeds, the damsel ceased\nnot to revile and chide him, at which the Red Knight marveled much; and\ncaused his sixty knights to watch Sir Beaumains, that no villainy might\nhappen to him. And on the morrow, they heard mass and broke their fast,\nand the Red Knight came before Sir Beaumains, with his sixty knights,\nand proffered him homage and fealty. \"I thank thee,\" answered he; \"and\nwhen I call upon thee thou shalt come before my lord King Arthur at his\ncourt, and yield yourselves to him.\" \"That will we surely do,\" said the\nRed Knight. So Sir Beaumains and the damsel departed.\n\nAnd as she constantly reviled him and tormented him, he said to her,\n\"Damsel, ye are discourteous thus always to rebuke me, for I have done\nyou service; and for all your threats of knights that shall destroy me,\nall they who come lie in the dust before me. Now, therefore, I pray you\nrebuke me no more till you see me beaten or a recreant, and then bid me\ngo from you.\" \"There shall soon meet thee a knight who shall repay thee\nall thy deeds, thou boaster,\" answered she, \"for, save King Arthur, he\nis the man of most worship in the world.\" \"It will be the greater honor\nto encounter him,\" said Sir Beaumains.\n\nSoon after, they saw before them a city passing fair, and between them\nand the city was a meadow newly mown, wherein were many goodly tents.\n\"Seest thou yonder blue pavilion?\" said the damsel to Sir Beaumains; \"it\nis Sir Perseant's, the lord of that great city, whose custom is, in all\nfair weather, to lie in this meadow, and joust with his knights.\"\n\nAnd as she spake, Sir Perseant, who had espied them coming, sent a\nmessenger to meet Sir Beaumains, and to ask him if he came in war or\npeace. \"Say to thy lord,\" he answered, \"that I care not whether of the\ntwain it be.\" So when the messenger gave this reply, Sir Perseant came\nout to fight with Sir Beaumains. And making ready, they rode their\nsteeds against each other; and when their spears were shivered asunder,\nthey fought with their swords. And for more than two hours did they\nhack and hew at each other, till their shields and hauberks were all\ndented with many blows, and they themselves were sorely wounded. And at\nthe last, Sir Beaumains smote Sir Perseant on the helm, so that he fell\ngroveling on the earth. And when he unlaced his helm to slay him, the\ndamsel prayed for his life. \"That will I grant gladly,\" answered Sir\nBeaumains, \"for it were pity such a noble knight should die.\"\n\"Gramercy!\" said Sir Perseant, \"for now I certainly know that it was\nthou who slewest my brother, the Black Knight, Sir Pereard; and overcame\nmy brothers, the Green Knight, Sir Pertolope, and the Red Knight, Sir\nPerimones; and since thou hast overcome me also, I will do thee homage\nand fealty, and place at thy command one hundred knights to do thy\nbidding.\"\n\nBut when the damsel saw Sir Perseant overthrown, she marveled greatly at\nthe might of Sir Beaumains, and said, \"What manner of man may ye be, for\nnow am I sure that ye be come of noble blood? And truly, never did woman\nrevile knight as I have done thee, and yet ye have ever courteously\nborne with me, which surely never had been were ye not of gentle blood\nand lineage.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" replied Sir Beaumains, \"a knight is little worth who may not\nbear with a damsel; and so whatsoever ye said to me I took no heed, save\nonly that at times when your scorn angered me, it made me all the\nstronger against those with whom I fought, and thus have ye furthered me\nin my battles. But whether I be born of gentle blood or no, I have done\nyou gentle service, and peradventure will do better still, ere I depart\nfrom you.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said she, weeping at his courtesy, \"forgive me, fair Sir\nBeaumains, all that I have missaid and misdone against you.\" \"With all\nmy heart,\" said he; \"and since you now speak fairly to me, I am passing\nglad of heart, and methinks I have the strength to overcome whatever\nknights I shall henceforth encounter.\"\n\nThen Sir Perseant prayed them to come to his pavilion, and set before\nthem wines and spices, and made them great cheer. So they rested that\nnight; and on the morrow, the damsel and Sir Beaumains rose, and heard\nmass. And when they had broken their fast, they took their leave of Sir\nPerseant. \"Fair damsel,\" said he, \"whither lead ye this knight?\" \"Sir,\"\nanswered she, \"to the Castle Dangerous, where my sister is besieged by\nthe Knight of the Redlands.\" \"I know him well,\" said Sir Perseant, \"for\nthe most perilous knight alive--a man without mercy, and with the\nstrength of seven men. God save thee, Sir Beaumains, from him! and\nenable thee to overcome him, for the Lady Lyones, whom he besiegeth, is\nas fair a lady as there liveth in this world.\" \"Thou sayest truth, sir,\"\nsaid the damsel; \"for I am her sister; and men call me Linet, or the\nWild Maiden.\" \"Now, I would have thee know,\" said Sir Perseant to Sir\nBeaumains, \"that the Knight of the Redlands hath kept that siege more\nthan two years, and prolongeth the time hoping that Sir Lancelot, or Sir\nTristram, or Sir Lamoracke, may come and battle with him; for these\nthree knights divide between them all knighthood; and thou if thou\nmayest match the Knight of the Redlands, shalt well be called the fourth\nknight of the world.\" \"Sir,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"I would fain have that\ngood fame; and truly, I am come of great and honorable lineage. And so\nthat you and this fair damsel will conceal it, I will tell ye my\ndescent.\" And when they swore to keep it secret, he told them, \"My name\nis Sir Gareth of Orkney, my father was King Lot, and my mother the Lady\nBelisent, King Arthur's sister. Sir Gawain, Sir Agravain, and Sir\nGaheris, are my brethren, and I am the youngest of them all. But, as yet\nKing Arthur and the court know me not, who I am.\" When he had thus told\nthem, they both wondered greatly.\n\nAnd the damsel Linet sent the dwarf forward to her sister, to tell her\nof their coming. Then did Dame Lyones inquire what manner of man the\nknight was who was coming to her rescue. And the dwarf told her of all\nSir Beaumains' deeds by the way: how he had overthrown Sir Key, and left\nhim for dead; how he had battled with Sir Lancelot, and was knighted of\nhim; how he had fought with, and slain, the thieves; how he had overcome\nthe two knights who kept the river passage; how he had fought with, and\nslain, the Black Knight; and how he had overcome the Green Knight, the\nRed Knight, and last of all, the Blue Knight, Sir Perseant. Then was\nDame Lyones passing glad, and sent the dwarf back to Sir Beaumains with\ngreat gifts, thanking him for his courtesy, in taking such a labor on\nhim for her sake, and praying him to be of good heart and courage. And\nas the dwarf returned, he met the Knight of the Redlands, who asked him\nwhence he came. \"I came here with the sister of my lady of the castle,\"\nsaid the dwarf, \"who hath been now to King Arthur's court and brought a\nknight with her to take her battle on him.\" \"Then is her travail lost,\"\nreplied the knight; \"for, though she had brought Sir Lancelot, Sir\nTristram, Sir Lamoracke, or Sir Gawain, I count myself their equal, and\nwho besides shall be so called?\" Then the dwarf told the knight what\ndeeds Sir Beaumains had done; but he answered, \"I care not for him,\nwhosoever he be, for I shall shortly overcome him, and give him shameful\ndeath, as to so many others I have done.\"\n\nThen the damsel Linet and Sir Beaumains left Sir Perseant, and rode on\nthrough a forest to a large plain, where they saw many pavilions, and\nhard by, a castle passing fair.\n\nBut as they came near Sir Beaumains saw upon the branches of some trees\nwhich grew there, the dead bodies of forty knights hanging, with rich\narmor on them, their shields and swords about their necks, and golden\nspurs upon their heels. \"What meaneth this?\" said he, amazed. \"Lose not\nthy courage, fair sir,\" replied the damsel, \"at this shameful sight, for\nall these knights came hither to rescue my sister; and when the Knight\nof the Redlands had overcome them, he put them to this piteous death,\nwithout mercy; and in such wise will he treat thee also unless thou\nbearest thee more valiantly than they.\" \"Truly he useth shameful\ncustoms,\" said Sir Beaumains; \"and it is a marvel that he hath endured\nso long.\"\n\nSo they rode onward to the castle walls, and found them double-moated,\nand heard the sea waves dashing on one side the walls. Then said the\ndamsel, \"See you that ivory horn hanging upon the sycamore-tree? The\nKnight of the Redlands hath hung it there, that any knight may blow\nthereon, and then will he himself come out and fight with him. But I\npray thee sound it not till high noontide, for now it is but daybreak,\nand till noon his strength increases to the might of seven men.\" \"Let\nthat be as it may, fair damsel,\" answered he, \"for were he stronger\nknight than ever lived, I would not fail him. Either will I defeat him\nat his mightiest, or die knightly in the field.\" With that he spurred\nhis horse unto the sycamore, and blew the ivory horn so eagerly, that\nall the castle rang its echoes. Instantly, all the knights who were in\nthe pavilions ran forth, and those within the castle looked out from the\nwindows, or above the walls. And the Knight of the Redlands, arming\nhimself quickly in blood-red armor, with spear, and shield, and horse's\ntrappings of like color, rode forth into a little valley by the castle\nwalls, so that all in the castle, and at the siege, might see the\nbattle.\n\n\"Be of good cheer,\" said the damsel Linet to Sir Beaumains, \"for thy\ndeadly enemy now cometh; and at yonder window is my lady and sister,\nDame Lyones.\" \"In good sooth,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"she is the fairest\nlady I have ever seen, and I would wish no better quarrel than to fight\nfor her.\" With that, he looked up to the window, and saw the Lady\nLyones, who waved her handkerchief to her sister and to him to cheer\nthem. Then called the Knight of the Redlands to Sir Beaumains, \"Leave\nnow thy gazing, Sir knight, and turn to me, for I warn thee that lady is\nmine.\" \"She loveth none of thy fellowship,\" he answered; \"but know this,\nthat I love her, and will rescue her from thee, or die.\" \"Say ye so!\"\nsaid the Red Knight. \"Take ye no warning from those knights that hang on\nyonder trees?\" \"For shame that thou so boastest!\" said Sir Beaumains.\n\"Be sure that sight hath raised a hatred for thee that will not lightly\nbe put out, and given me not fear, but rage.\" \"Sir knight, defend\nthyself,\" said the Knight of the Redlands, \"for we will talk no longer.\"\n\nThen did they put their spears in rest, and came together at the fullest\nspeed of their horses, and smote each other in the midst of their\nshields, so that their horses' harness sundered by the shock, and they\nfell to the ground. And both lay there so long time, stunned, that many\ndeemed their necks were broken. And all men said the strange knight was\na strong man, and a noble jouster, for none had ever yet so matched the\nKnight of the Redlands. Then, in a while, they rose, and putting up\ntheir shields before them, drew their swords, and fought with fury,\nrunning at each other like wild beasts--now striking such buffets that\nboth reeled backwards, now hewing at each other till they shore the\nharness off in pieces, and left their bodies naked and unarmed. And thus\nthey fought till noon was past, when, for a time, they rested to get\nbreath, so sorely staggering and bleeding, that many who beheld them\nwept for pity. Then they renewed the battle--sometimes rushing so\nfuriously together, that both fell to the ground, and anon changing\nswords in their confusion. Thus they endured, and lashed, and struggled,\nuntil eventide, and none who saw knew which was the likeliest to win;\nfor though the Knight of the Redlands was a wily and subtle warrior, his\nsubtlety made Sir Beaumains wilier and wiser too. So once again they\nrested for a little space, and took their helms off to find breath.\n\nBut when Sir Beaumains' helm was off, he looked up to Dame Lyones, where\nshe leaned, gazing and weeping, from her window. And when he saw the\nsweetness of her smiling, all his heart was light and joyful, and\nstarting up, he bade the Knight of the Redlands make ready. Then did\nthey lace their helms and fight together yet afresh, as though they had\nnever fought before. And at the last, the Knight of the Redlands with a\nsudden stroke smote Sir Beaumains on the hand, so that his sword fell\nfrom it, and with a second stroke upon the helm he drove him to the\nearth. Then cried aloud the damsel Linet, \"Alas! Sir Beaumains, see how\nmy sister weepeth to behold thee fallen!\" And when Sir Beaumains heard\nher words, he sprang upon his feet with strength, and leaping to his\nsword, he caught it; and with many heavy blows pressed so sorely on the\nKnight of the Redlands, that in the end he smote his sword from out his\nhand, and, with a mighty blow upon the head, hurled him upon the ground.\n\nThen Sir Beaumains unlaced his helm, and would have straightway slain\nhim, but the Knight of the Redlands yielded, and prayed for mercy. \"I\nmay not spare thee,\" answered he, \"because of the shameful death which\nthou hast given to so many noble knights.\" \"Yet hold thy hand, Sir\nknight,\" said he, \"and hear the cause. I loved once a fair damsel, whose\nbrother was slain, as she told me, by a knight of Arthur's court, either\nSir Lancelot, or Sir Gawain; and she prayed me, as I truly loved her,\nand by the faith of my knighthood, to labor daily in deeds of arms, till\nI should meet with him; and to put all knights of the Round Table whom I\nshould overcome to a villainous death. And this I swore to her.\" Then\nprayed the earls, and knights, and barons, who stood round Sir\nBeaumains, to spare the Red Knight's life. \"Truly,\" replied he, \"I am\nloth to slay him, notwithstanding he hath done such shameful deeds. And\ninasmuch as what he did was done to please his lady and to gain her\nlove, I blame him less, and for your sakes I will release him. But on\nthis agreement only shall he hold his life--that straightway he depart\ninto the castle, and yield him to the lady there, and make her such\namends as she shall ask, for all the trespass he hath done upon her\nlands; and afterwards, that he shall go unto King Arthur's court, and\nask the pardon of Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawain for all the evil he hath\ndone against them.\" \"All this, Sir knight, I swear to do,\" said the\nKnight of the Redlands; and therewith he did him homage and fealty.\n\nThen came the damsel Linet to Sir Beaumains and the Knight of the\nRedlands, and disarmed them, and staunched their wounds. And when the\nKnight of the Redlands had made amends for all his trespasses, he\ndeparted for the court.\n\nThen Sir Beaumains, being healed of his wounds, armed himself, and took\nhis horse and spear and rode straight to the castle of Dame Lyones, for\ngreatly he desired to see her. But when he came to the gate they closed\nit fast, and pulled the drawbridge up. And as he marveled thereat, he\nsaw the Lady Lyones standing at a window, who said, \"Go thy way as yet,\nSir Beaumains, for thou shalt not wholly have my love until thou be\namong the worthiest knights of all the world. Go, therefore, and labor\nyet in arms for twelve months more, and then return to me.\" \"Alas! fair\nlady,\" said Sir Beaumains, \"I have scarce deserved this of thee, for\nsure I am that I have bought thy love with all the best blood in my\nbody.\" \"Be not aggrieved, fair knight,\" said she, \"for none of thy\nservice is forgot or lost. Twelve months will soon be passed in noble\ndeeds; and trust that to my death I shall love thee and not another.\"\nWith that she turned and left the window.\n\nSo Sir Beaumains rode away from the castle very sorrowful at heart, and\nrode he knew not whither, and lay that night in a poor man's cottage.\nOn the morrow he went forward, and came at noon to a broad lake, and\nthereby he alighted, being very sad and weary, and rested his head upon\nhis shield, and told his dwarf to keep watch while he slept.\n\nNow, as soon as he had departed, the Lady Lyones repented, and greatly\nlonged to see him back, and asked her sister many times of what lineage\nhe was; but the damsel would not tell her, being bound by her oath to\nSir Beaumains, and said his dwarf best knew. So she called Sir\nGringamors, her brother, who dwelt with her, and prayed him to ride\nafter Sir Beaumains till he found him sleeping, and then to take his\ndwarf away and bring him back to her. Anon Sir Gringamors departed, and\nrode till he came to Sir Beaumains, and found him as he lay sleeping by\nthe water-side. Then stepping stealthily behind the dwarf he caught him\nin his arms and rode off in haste. And though the dwarf cried loudly to\nhis lord for help, and woke Sir Beaumains, yet, though he rode full\nquickly after him, he could not overtake Sir Gringamors.\n\nWhen Dame Lyones saw her brother come back, she was passing glad of\nheart, and forthwith asked the dwarf his master's lineage. \"He is a\nking's son,\" said the dwarf, \"and his mother is King Arthur's sister.\nHis name is Sir Gareth of Orkney, and he is brother to the good knight,\nSir Gawain. But I pray you suffer me to go back to my lord, for truly he\nwill never leave this country till he have me again.\" But when the Lady\nLyones knew her deliverer was come of such a kingly stock, she longed\nmore than ever to see him again.\n\nNow as Sir Beaumains rode in vain to rescue his dwarf, he came to a fair\ngreen road and met a poor man of the country, and asked him had he seen\na knight on a black horse, riding with a dwarf of a sad countenance\nbehind him. \"Yea,\" said the man, \"I met with such a knight an hour\nagone, and his name is Sir Gringamors. He liveth at a castle two miles\nfrom hence; but he is a perilous knight, and I counsel ye not to follow\nhim save ye bear him goodwill.\" Then Sir Beaumains followed the path\nwhich the poor man showed him, and came to the castle. And riding to the\ngate in great anger, he drew his sword, and cried aloud, \"Sir\nGringamors, thou traitor! deliver me my dwarf again, or by my knighthood\nit shall be ill for thee!\" Then Sir Gringamors looked out of a window\nand said, \"Sir Gareth of Orkney, leave thy boasting words, for thou wilt\nnot get thy dwarf again.\" But the Lady Lyones said to her brother, \"Nay,\nbrother, but I will that he have his dwarf, for he hath done much for\nme, and delivered me from the Knight of the Redlands, and well do I love\nhim above all other knights.\" So Sir Gringamors went down to Sir Gareth\nand cried him mercy, and prayed him to alight and take good cheer.\n\nThen he alighted, and his dwarf ran to him. And when he was in the hall\ncame the Lady Lyones dressed royally like a princess. And Sir Gareth was\nright glad of heart when he saw her. Then she told him how she had made\nher brother take away his dwarf and bring him back to her. And then she\npromised him her love, and faithfully to cleave to him and none other\nall the days of her life. And so they plighted their troth to each\nother. Then Sir Gringamors prayed him to sojourn at the castle, which\nwilling he did. \"For,\" said he, \"I have promised to quit the court for\ntwelve months, though sure I am that in the meanwhile I shall be sought\nand found by my lord King Arthur and many others.\" So he sojourned long\nat the castle.\n\nAnon the knights, Sir Perseant, Sir Perimones, and Sir Pertolope, whom\nSir Gareth had overthrown, went to King Arthur's court with all the\nknights who did them service, and told the king they had been conquered\nby a knight of his named Beaumains. And as they yet were talking, it was\ntold the king there came another great lord with five hundred knights,\nwho, entering in, did homage, and declared himself to be the Knight of\nthe Redlands. \"But my true name,\" said he, \"is Ironside, and I am hither\nsent by one Sir Beaumains, who conquered me, and charged me to yield\nunto your grace.\" \"Thou art welcome,\" said King Arthur, \"for thou hast\nbeen long a foe to me and mine, and truly I am much beholden to the\nknight who sent thee. And now, Sir Ironside, if thou wilt amend thy life\nand hold of me, I will entreat thee as a friend, and make thee Knight of\nthe Round Table; but thou mayst no more be a murderer of noble knights.\"\nThen the Knight of the Redlands knelt to the king, and told him of his\npromise to Sir Beaumains to use never more such shameful customs; and\nhow he had so done but at the prayer of a lady whom he loved. Then knelt\nhe to Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawain, and prayed their pardon for the\nhatred he had borne them.\n\nBut the king and all the court marveled greatly who Sir Beaumains was.\n\"For,\" said the king, \"he is a full noble knight.\" Then said Sir\nLancelot, \"Truly he is come of honorable blood, else had I not given him\nthe order of knighthood; but he charged me that I should conceal his\nsecret.\"\n\nNow as they talked thus it was told King Arthur that his sister, the\nQueen of Orkney, was come to the court with a great retinue of knights\nand ladies. Then was there great rejoicing, and the king rose and\nsaluted his sister. And her sons, Sir Gawain, Sir Agravain, and Sir\nGaheris knelt before her and asked her blessing, for during fifteen\nyears last past they had not seen her. Anon she said, \"Where is my\nyoungest son, Sir Gareth? for I know that he was here a twelve-month\nwith you, and that ye made a kitchen knave of him.\" Then the king and\nall the knights knew that Sir Beaumains and Sir Gareth were the same.\n\"Truly,\" said the king, \"I knew him not.\" \"Nor I,\" said Sir Gawain and\nboth his brothers. Then said the king, \"God be thanked, fair sister,\nthat he is proved as worshipful a knight as any now alive, and by the\ngrace of Heaven he shall be found forthwith if he be anywhere within\nthese seven realms.\" Then said Sir Gawain and his brethren, \"Lord, if ye\nwill give us leave we will go seek him.\" But Sir Lancelot said, \"It\nwere better that the king should send a messenger to Dame Lyones and\npray her to come hither with all speed, and she will counsel where ye\nshall find him.\" \"It is well said,\" replied the king; and sent a\nmessenger quickly unto Dame Lyones.\n\nWhen she heard the message she promised she would come forthwith, and\ntold Sir Gareth what the messenger had said, and asked him what to do.\n\"I pray you,\" said he, \"tell them not where I am, but when my lord King\nArthur asketh for me, advise him thus--that he proclaim a tournament\nbefore this castle on Assumption Day, and that the knight who proveth\nbest shall win yourself and all your lands.\" So the Lady Lyones departed\nand came to King Arthur's court, and there was right nobly welcomed. And\nwhen they asked her where Sir Gareth was, she said she could not tell.\n\"But, lord,\" said she, \"with thy goodwill I will proclaim a tournament\nbefore my castle on the Feast of the Assumption, whereof the prize shall\nbe myself and all my lands. Then if it be proclaimed that you, lord, and\nyour knights will be there, I will find knights on my side to fight you\nand yours, and thus am I sure ye will hear tidings of Sir Gareth.\" \"Be\nit so done,\" replied the king.\n\nSo Sir Gareth sent messengers privily to Sir Perseant and Sir Ironside,\nand charged them to be ready on the day appointed, with their companies\nof knights to aid him and his party against the king. And when they were\narrived he said, \"Now be ye well assured that we shall be matched with\nthe best knights of the world, and therefore must we gather all the\ngood knights we can find.\"\n\nSo proclamation was made throughout all England, Wales, Scotland,\nIreland, and Cornwall, and in the out isles and other countries, that at\nthe Feast of the Assumption of our Lady, next coming, all knights who\ncame to joust at Castle Perilous should make choice whether they would\nside with the king or with the castle. Then came many good knights on\nthe side of the castle. Sir Epinogris, the son of the King of\nNorthumberland, and Sir Palomedes the Saracen, and Sir Grummore\nGrummorsum, a good knight of Scotland, and Sir Brian des Iles, a noble\nknight, and Sir Carados of the Tower Dolorous, and Sir Tristram, who as\nyet was not a knight of the Round Table, and many others. But none among\nthem knew Sir Gareth, for he took no more upon him than any mean person.\n\nAnd on King Arthur's side there came the King of Ireland and the King of\nScotland, the noble prince Sir Galahaut, Sir Gawain and his brothers Sir\nAgravain and Sir Gaheris, Sir Ewaine, Sir Tor, Sir Perceval, and Sir\nLamoracke, Sir Lancelot also and his kindred, Sir Lionel, Sir Ector, Sir\nBors and Sir Bedivere, likewise Sir Key and the most part of the Table\nRound. The two queens also, Queen Guinevere and the Queen of Orkney, Sir\nGareth's mother, came with the king. So there was a great array both\nwithin and without the castle, with all manner of feasting and\nminstrelsy.\n\nNow before the tournament began, Sir Gareth privily prayed Dame Lyones,\nSir Gringamors, Sir Ironside, and Sir Perseant, that they would in\nnowise disclose his name, nor make more of him than of any common\nknight. Then said Dame Lyones, \"Dear lord, I pray thee take this ring,\nwhich hath the power to change the wearer's clothing into any color he\nmay will, and guardeth him from any loss of blood. But give it me again,\nI pray thee, when the tournament is done, for it greatly increaseth my\nbeauty whensoever I wear it.\" \"Gramercy, mine own lady,\" said Sir\nGareth, \"I wished for nothing better, for now I may be certainly\ndisguised as long as I will.\" Then Sir Gringamors gave Sir Gareth a bay\ncourser that was a passing good horse, with sure armor, and a noble\nsword, won by his father from a heathen tyrant. And then every knight\nmade him ready for the tournament.\n\nSo on the day of the Assumption, when mass and matins were said, the\nheralds blew their trumpets and sounded for the tourney. Anon came out\nthe knights of the castle and the knights of King Arthur, and matched\nthemselves together.\n\nThen Sir Epinogris, son of the King of Northumberland, a knight of the\ncastle, encountered Sir Ewaine, and both broke off their spears short to\ntheir hands. Then came Sir Palomedes from the castle, and met Sir\nGawain, and they so hardly smote each other, that both knights and\nhorses fell to the earth. Then Sir Tristram, from the castle,\nencountered with Sir Bedivere, and smote him to the earth, horse and\nman. Then the Knight of the Redlands and Sir Gareth met with Sir Bors\nand Sir Bleoberis; and the Knight of the Redlands and Sir Bors smote\ntogether so hard that their spears burst, and their horses fell\ngroveling to the ground. And Sir Bleoberis brake his spear upon Sir\nGareth, but himself was hurled upon the ground. When Sir Galihodin saw\nthat, he bade Sir Gareth keep him, but Sir Gareth lightly smote him to\nthe earth. Then Sir Galihud got a spear to avenge his brother, but was\nserved in like manner. And Sir Dinadam, and his brother\nLa-cote-male-taile, and Sir Sagramour le Desirous, and Dodinas le\nSavage, he bore down all with one spear.\n\nWhen King Anguish of Ireland saw this, he marveled what that knight\ncould be who seemed at one time green and at another blue; for so at\nevery course he changed his color that none might know him. Then he ran\ntowards him and encountered him, and Sir Gareth smote the king from his\nhorse, saddle and all. And in like manner he served the King of\nScotland, and King Urience of Gore, and King Bagdemagus.\n\nThen Sir Galahaut, the noble prince, cried out, \"Knight of the many\ncolors! thou hast jousted well; now make thee ready to joust with me.\"\nWhen Sir Gareth heard him, he took a great spear and met him swiftly.\nAnd the prince's spear broke off, but Sir Gareth smote him on the left\nside of the helm, so that he reeled here and there, and had fallen down\nhad not his men recovered him. \"By my faith,\" said King Arthur, \"that\nknight of the many colors is a good knight. I pray thee, Sir Lancelot\ndu Lake, encounter with him.\" \"Lord,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"by thy leave I\nwill forbear. I find it in my heart to spare him at this time, for he\nhath done enough work for one day; and when a good knight doth so well\nit is no knightly part to hinder him from this honor. And peradventure\nhis quarrel is here to-day, and he may be the best beloved of the Lady\nLyones of all that be here; for I see well he paineth and forceth\nhimself to do great deeds. Therefore, as for me, this day he shall have\nthe honor; for though I were able to put him from it, I would not.\" \"You\nspeak well and truly,\" said the king.\n\nThen after the tilting, they drew swords, and there began a great\ntournament, and there Sir Lancelot did marvelous deeds of arms, for\nfirst he fought with both Sir Tristram and Sir Carados, albeit they were\nthe most perilous in all the world. Then came Sir Gareth and put them\nasunder, but would not smite a stroke against Sir Lancelot, for by him\nhe had been knighted. Anon Sir Gareth's helm had need of mending, and he\nrode aside to see to it and to drink water, for he was sore athirst with\nall his mighty feats of strength. And while he drank, his dwarf said to\nhim, \"Give me your ring, lest ye lose it while ye drink.\" So Sir Gareth\ntook it off. And when he had finished drinking, he rode back eagerly to\nthe field, and in his haste forgot to take the ring again. Then all the\npeople saw that he wore yellow armor. And King Arthur told a herald,\n\"Ride and espy the cognizance of that brave knight, for I have asked\nmany who he is, and none can tell me.\"\n\nThen the herald rode near, and saw written round about his helmet in\nletters of gold, \"Sir Gareth of Orkney.\" And instantly the herald cried\nhis name aloud, and all men pressed to see him.\n\nBut when he saw he was discovered, he pushed with haste through all the\ncrowd, and cried to his dwarf, \"Boy, thou hast beguiled me foully in\nkeeping my ring; give it me again, that I may be hidden.\" And as soon as\nhe had put it on, his armor changed again, and no man knew where he had\ngone. Then he passed forth from the field; but Sir Gawain, his brother,\nrode after him.\n\nAnd when Sir Gareth had ridden far into the forest, he took off his\nring, and sent it back by the dwarf to the Lady Lyones, praying her to\nbe true and faithful to him while he was away.\n\nThen rode Sir Gareth long through the forest, till night fell, and\ncoming to a castle he went up to the gate, and prayed the porter to let\nhim in. But churlishly he answered \"that he should not lodge there.\"\nThen said Sir Gareth, \"Tell thy lord and lady that I am a knight of King\nArthur's court, and for his sake I pray their shelter.\" With that the\nporter went to the duchess who owned the castle. \"Let him in\nstraightway,\" cried she; \"for the king's sake he shall not be\nharborless!\" and went down to receive him. When Sir Gareth saw her\ncoming, he saluted her, and said, \"Fair lady, I pray you give me shelter\nfor this night, and if there be here any champion or giant with whom I\nmust needs fight, spare me till to-morrow, when I and my horse shall\nhave rested, for we are full weary.\" \"Sir knight,\" she said, \"thou\nspeakest boldly; for the lord of this castle is a foe to King Arthur and\nhis court, and if thou wilt rest here to-night thou must agree, that\nwheresoever thou mayest meet my lord, thou must yield to him as a\nprisoner.\" \"What is thy lord's name, lady?\" said Sir Gareth. \"The Duke\nde la Rowse,\" said she. \"I will promise thee,\" said he, \"to yield to\nhim, if he promise to do me no harm; but if he refuse, I will release\nmyself with my sword and spear.\"\n\n\"It is well,\" said the duchess; and commanded the drawbridge to be let\ndown. So he rode into the hall and alighted. And when he had taken off\nhis armor, the duchess and her ladies made him passing good cheer. And\nafter supper his bed was made in the hall, and there he rested that\nnight. On the morrow he rose and heard mass, and having broken his fast,\ntook his leave and departed.\n\nAnd as he rode past a certain mountain there met him a knight named Sir\nBendelaine, and cried unto him, \"Thou shalt not pass unless thou joust\nwith me or be my prisoner!\" \"Then will we joust,\" replied Sir Gareth. So\nthey let their horses run at full speed, and Sir Gareth smote Sir\nBendelaine through his body so sorely that he scarcely reached his\ncastle ere he fell dead. And as Sir Gareth presently came by the castle,\nSir Bendelaine's knights and servants rode out to revenge their lord.\nAnd twenty of them fell on him at once, although his spear was broken.\nBut drawing his sword he put his shield before him. And though they\nbrake their spears upon him, one and all, and sorely pressed on him, yet\never he defended himself like a noble knight. Anon, finding they could\nnot overcome him, they agreed to slay his horse; and having killed it\nwith their spears, they set upon Sir Gareth as he fought on foot. But\nevery one he struck he slew, and drave at them with fearful blows, till\nhe had slain them all but four, who fled. Then taking the horse of one\nof those that lay there dead, he rode upon his way.\n\nAnon he came to another castle and heard from within a sound as of many\nwomen moaning and weeping. Then said he to a page who stood without,\n\"What noise is this I hear?\" \"Sir knight,\" said he, \"there be within\nthirty ladies, the widows of thirty knights who have been slain by the\nlord of this castle. He is called the Brown Knight without pity, and is\nthe most perilous knight living, wherefore I warn thee to flee.\" \"That\nwill I never do,\" said Sir Gareth, \"for I fear him not.\" Then the page\nsaw the Brown Knight coming and said to Gareth, \"Lo! my lord is near.\"\n\nSo both knights made them ready and galloped their horses towards each\nother, and the Brown Knight brake his spear upon Sir Gareth's shield;\nbut Sir Gareth smote him through the body so that he fell dead. At that\nhe rode into the castle and told the ladies he had slain their foe. Then\nwere they right glad of heart and made him all the cheer they could,\nand thanked him out of measure. But on the morrow as he went to mass he\nfound the ladies weeping in the chapel upon divers tombs that were\nthere. And he knew that in those tombs their husbands lay. Then he bade\nthem be comforted, and with noble and high words he desired and prayed\nthem all to be at Arthur's court on the next Feast of Pentecost.\n\nSo he departed and rode past a mountain where was a goodly knight\nwaiting, who said to him, \"Abide, Sir knight, and joust with me!\" \"How\nare ye named?\" said Sir Gareth. \"I am the Duke de la Rowse,\" answered\nhe. \"In good sooth,\" then said Sir Gareth, \"not long ago I lodged within\nyour castle, and there promised I would yield to you whenever we might\nmeet.\" \"Art thou that proud knight,\" said the duke, \"who was ready to\nfight with me? Guard thyself therefore and make ready.\" So they ran\ntogether, and Sir Gareth smote the duke from his horse. Then they\nalighted and drew their swords, and fought full sorely for the space of\nan hour; and at the last Sir Gareth smote the duke to the earth and\nwould have slain him, but he yielded. \"Then must ye go,\" said Sir\nGareth, \"to my lord King Arthur at the next Feast of Pentecost and say\nthat I, Sir Gareth, sent ye.\" \"As ye will be it,\" said the duke; and\ngave him up his shield for pledge.\n\nAnd as Sir Gareth rode alone he saw an armed knight coming towards him.\nAnd putting the duke's shield before him he rode fast to tilt with him;\nand so they ran together as it had been thunder, and brake their spears\nupon each other. Then fought they fiercely with their swords, and lashed\ntogether with such mighty strokes that blood ran to the ground on every\nside. And after they had fought together for two hours and more, it\nchanced the damsel Linet passed that way; and when she saw them, she\ncried out, \"Sir Gawain and Sir Gareth, leave your fighting, for ye are\nbrethren!\" At that they threw away their shields and swords, and took\neach other in their arms, and wept a great while ere they could speak.\nAnd each gave to the other the honor of the battle, and there was many a\nkind word between them. Then said Sir Gawain, \"O my brother, for your\nsake have I had great sorrow and labor! But truly I would honor you\nthough ye were not my brother, for ye have done great worship to King\nArthur and his court, and sent more knights to him than any of the Table\nRound, except Sir Lancelot.\"\n\nThen the damsel Linet staunched their wounds, and their horses being\nweary she rode her palfrey to King Arthur and told him of this strange\nadventure. When she had told her tidings, the king himself mounted his\nhorse and bade all come with him to meet them. So a great company of\nlords and ladies went forth to meet the brothers. And when King Arthur\nsaw them he would have spoken hearty words, but for gladness he could\nnot. And both Sir Gawain and Sir Gareth fell down at their uncle's knees\nand did him homage, and there was passing great joy and gladness among\nthem all.\n\nThen said the king to the damsel Linet, \"Why cometh not the Lady Lyones\nto visit her knight, Sir Gareth, who hath had such travail for her\nlove?\" \"She knoweth not, my lord, that he is here,\" replied the damsel,\n\"for truly she desireth greatly to see him.\" \"Go ye and bring her\nhither,\" said the king. So the damsel rode to tell her sister where Sir\nGareth was, and when she heard it she rejoiced full heartily and came\nwith all the speed she could. And when Sir Gareth saw her, there was\ngreat joy and comfort between them.\n\nThen the king asked Sir Gareth whether he would have that lady for his\nwife? \"My lord,\" replied Sir Gareth, \"know well that I love her above\nall ladies living.\" \"Now, fair lady,\" said King Arthur, \"what say ye?\"\n\"Most noble king,\" she answered, \"my lord, Sir Gareth, is my first love\nand shall be my last, and if I may not have him for my husband I will\nhave none.\" Then said the king to them, \"Be well assured that for my\ncrown I would not be the cause of parting your two hearts.\"\n\nThen was high preparation made for the marriage, for the king desired it\nshould be at the Michaelmas next following, at Kinkenadon-by-the-Sea.\n\nSo Sir Gareth sent out messages to all the knights whom he had overcome\nin battle that they should be there upon his marriage-day.\n\nTherefore, at the next Michaelmas, came a goodly company to\nKinkenadon-by-the-Sea. And there did the Archbishop of Canterbury marry\nSir Gareth and the Lady Lyones with all solemnity. And all the knights\nwhom Sir Gareth had overcome were at the feast; and every manner of\nrevels and games was held with music and minstrelsy. And there was a\ngreat jousting for three days. But because of his bride the king would\nnot suffer Sir Gareth to joust. Then did King Arthur give great lands\nand fair, with store of gold, to Sir Gareth and his wife, that so they\nmight live royally together to their lives' end.\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nTHE ADVENTURES OF SIR TRISTRAM\n\n\nAgain King Arthur held high festival at Caerleon, at Pentecost, and\ngathered round him all the fellowship of the Round Table, and so,\naccording to his custom, sat and waited till some adventure should\narise, or some knight return to court whose deeds and perils might be\ntold.\n\nAnon he saw Sir Lancelot and a crowd of knights coming through the doors\nand leading in their midst the mighty knight, Sir Tristram. As soon as\nKing Arthur saw him, he rose up and went through half the hall, and held\nout both his hands and cried, \"Right welcome to thee, good Sir Tristram,\nas welcome art thou as any knight that ever came before into this court.\nA long time have I wished for thee amongst my fellowship.\" Then all the\nknights and barons rose up with one accord and came around, and cried\nout, \"Welcome.\" Queen Guinevere came also, and many ladies with her, and\nall with one voice said the same.\n\nThen the king took Sir Tristram by the hand and led him to the Round\nTable and said, \"Welcome again for one of the best and gentlest knights\nin all the world; a chief in war, a chief in peace, a chief in field and\nforest, a chief in the ladies' chamber--right heartily welcome to this\ncourt, and mayest thou long abide in it.\"\n\nWhen he had so said he looked at every empty seat until he came to what\nhad been Sir Marhaus', and there he found written in gold letters, \"This\nis the seat of the noble knight, Sir Tristram.\" Whereat they made him,\nwith great cheer and gladness, a Fellow of the Round Table.\n\nNow the story of Sir Tristram was as follows:--\n\nThere was a king of Lyonesse, named Meliodas, married to the sister of\nKing Mark of Cornwall, a right fair lady and a good. And so it happened\nthat King Meliodas hunting in the woods was taken by enchantment and\nmade prisoner in a castle. When his wife Elizabeth heard it she was nigh\nmad with grief, and ran into the forest to seek out her lord. But after\nmany days of wandering and sorrow she found no trace of him, and laid\nher down in a deep valley and prayed to meet her death. And so indeed\nshe did, but ere she died she gave birth in the midst of all her sorrow\nto child, a boy, and called him with her latest breath Tristram; for she\nsaid, \"His name shall show how sadly he hath come into this world.\"\n\nTherewith she gave up her ghost, and the gentlewoman who was with her\ntook the child and wrapped it from the cold as well as she was able, and\nlay down with it in her arms beneath the shadow of a tree hard by,\nexpecting death to come to her in turn.\n\nBut shortly after came a company of lords and barons seeking for the\nqueen, and found the lady and the child and took them home. And on the\nnext day came King Meliodas, whom Merlin had delivered, and when he\nheard of the queen's death his sorrow was greater than tongue can tell.\nAnd anon he buried her solemnly and nobly, and called the child Tristram\nas she had desired.\n\nThen for seven years King Meliodas mourned and took no comfort, and all\nthat time young Tristram was well nourished; but in a while he wedded\nwith the daughter of Howell, King of Brittany, who, that her own\nchildren might enjoy the kingdom, cast about in her mind how she might\ndestroy Tristram. So on a certain day she put poison in a silver cup,\nwhere Tristram and her children were together playing, that when he was\nathirst he might drink of it and die. But so it happened that her own\nson saw the cup, and, thinking it must hold good drink, he climbed and\ntook it, and drank deeply of it, and suddenly thereafter burst and fell\ndown dead.\n\nWhen the queen heard that, her grief was very great, but her anger and\nenvy were fiercer than before, and soon again she put more poison in the\ncup. And by chance one day her husband finding it when thirsty, took it\nup and was about to drink therefrom, when, seeing him, she sprang up\nwith a mighty cry and dashed it from his hands.\n\nAt that King Meliodas, wondering greatly, called to mind the sudden\ndeath of his young child, and taking her fiercely by the hand he cried:\n\n\"Traitress, tell me what drink is in this cup or I will slay thee in a\nmoment;\" and therewith pulling out his sword he swore by a great oath\nto slay her if she straightway told him not the truth.\n\n\"Ah, mercy, lord,\" said she, and fell down at his feet; \"mercy, and I\nwill tell thee all.\"\n\nAnd then she told him of her plot to murder Tristram, so that her own\nsons might enjoy the kingdom.\n\n\"The law shall judge thee,\" said the king.\n\nAnd so anon she was tried before the barons, and condemned to be burnt\nto death.\n\nBut when the fire was made, and she brought out, came Tristram kneeling\nat his father's feet and besought of him a favor.\n\n\"Whatsoever thou desirest I will give thee,\" said the king.\n\n\"Give me the life, then, of the queen, my step-mother,\" said he.\n\n\"Thou doest wrong to ask it,\" said Meliodas; \"for she would have slain\nthee with her poisons if she could, and chiefly for thy sake she ought\nto die.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said he, \"as for that, I beseech thee of thy mercy to forgive it\nher, and for my part may God pardon her as I do; and so I pray thee\ngrant me my boon, and for God's sake hold thee to thy promise.\"\n\n\"If it must be so,\" said the king, \"take thou her life, for to thee I\ngive it, and go and do with her as thou wilt.\"\n\nThen went young Tristram to the fire and loosed the queen from all her\nbonds and delivered her from death.\n\nAnd after a great while by his good means the king again forgave and\nlived in peace with her, though never more in the same lodgings.\n\nAnon was Tristram sent abroad to France in care of one named Governale.\nAnd there for seven years he learned the language of the land, and all\nknightly exercises and gentle crafts, and especially was he foremost in\nmusic and in hunting, and was a harper beyond all others. And when at\nnineteen years of age he came back to his father, he was as lusty and\nstrong of body and as noble of heart as ever man was seen.\n\nNow shortly after his return it befell that King Anguish of Ireland sent\nto King Mark of Cornwall for the tribute due to Ireland, but which was\nnow seven years behindhand. To whom King Mark sent answer, if he would\nhave it he must send and fight for it, and they would find a champion to\nfight against it.\n\nSo King Anguish called for Sir Marhaus, his wife's brother, a good\nknight of the Round Table, who lived then at his court, and sent him\nwith a knightly retinue in six great ships to Cornwall. And, casting\nanchor by the castle of Tintagil, he sent up daily to King Mark for the\ntribute or the champion. But no knight there would venture to assail\nhim, for his fame was very high in all the realm for strength and\nhardihood.\n\nThen made King Mark a proclamation throughout Cornwall, that if any\nknight would fight Sir Marhaus he should stand at the king's right hand\nforevermore, and have great honor and riches all the rest of his days.\nAnon this news came to the land of Lyonesse, and when young Tristram\nheard it he was angry and ashamed to think no knight of Cornwall durst\nassail the Irish champion. \"Alas,\" said he, \"that I am not a knight,\nthat I might match this Marhaus! I pray you give me leave, sir, to\ndepart to King Mark's court and beg him of his grace to make me knight.\"\n\n\"Be ruled by thy own courage,\" said his father.\n\nSo Tristram rode away forthwith to Tintagil to King Mark, and went up\nboldly to him and said, \"Sir, give me the order of knighthood and I will\nfight to the uttermost with Sir Marhaus of Ireland.\"\n\n\"What are ye, and whence come ye?\" said the king, seeing he was but a\nyoung man, though strong and well made both in body and limb.\n\n\"My name is Tristram,\" said he, \"and I was born in the country of\nLyonesse.\"\n\n\"But know ye,\" said the king, \"this Irish knight will fight with none\nwho be not come of royal blood and near of kin to kings or queens, as he\nhimself is, for his sister is the Queen of Ireland.\"\n\nThen said Tristram, \"Let him know that I am come both on my father's and\nmy mother's side of blood as good as his, for my father is King Meliodas\nand my mother was that Queen Elizabeth, thy sister, who died in the\nforest at my birth.\"\n\nWhen King Mark heard that he welcomed him with all his heart, and\nknighted him forthwith, and made him ready to go forth as soon as he\nwould choose, and armed him royally in armor covered with gold and\nsilver.\n\nThen he sent Sir Marhaus word, \"That a better man than he should fight\nwith him, Sir Tristram of Lyonesse, son of King Meliodas and of King\nMark's own sister.\" So the battle was ordained to be fought in an island\nnear Sir Marhaus' ships, and there Sir Tristram landed on the morrow,\nwith Governale alone attending him for squire, and him he sent back to\nthe land when he had made himself ready.\n\nWhen Sir Marhaus and Sir Tristram were thus left alone, Sir Marhaus\nsaid, \"Young knight Sir Tristram, what doest thou here? I am full sorry\nfor thy rashness, for ofttimes have I been assailed in vain, and by the\nbest knights of the world. Be warned in time, return to them that sent\nthee.\"\n\n\"Fair knight, and well-proved knight,\" replied Sir Tristram, \"be sure\nthat I shall never quit this quarrel till one of us be overcome. For\nthis cause have I been made knight, and thou shalt know before we part\nthat though as yet unproved, I am a king's son and firstborn of a queen.\nMoreover I have promised to deliver Cornwall from this ancient burden,\nor to die. Also, thou shouldst have known, Sir Marhaus, that thy valor\nand thy might are but the better reasons why I should assail thee; for\nwhether I win or lose I shall gain honor to have met so great a knight\nas thou art.\"\n\nThen they began the battle, and tilted at their hardest against each\nother, so that both knights and horses fell to the earth. But Sir\nMarhaus' spear smote Sir Tristram a great wound in the side. Then,\nspringing up from their horses, they lashed together with their swords\nlike two wild boars. And when they had stricken together a great while\nthey left off strokes and lunged at one another's breasts and visors;\nbut seeing this availed not they hurtled together again to bear each\nother down.\n\nThus fought they more than half the day, till both were sorely spent and\nblood ran from them to the ground on every side. But by this time Sir\nTristram remained fresher than Sir Marhaus and better winded, and with a\nmighty stroke he smote him such a buffet as cut through his helm into\nhis brain-pan, and there his sword stuck in so fast that thrice Sir\nTristram pulled ere he could get it from his head. Then fell Sir Marhaus\ndown upon his knees, and the edge of Sir Tristram's sword broke off into\nhis brain-pan. And suddenly when he seemed dead, Sir Marhaus rose and\nthrew his sword and shield away from him and ran and fled into his ship.\nAnd Tristram cried out after him, \"Aha! Sir knight of the Round Table,\ndost thou withdraw thee from so young a knight? it is a shame to thee\nand all thy kin; I would rather have been hewn into a hundred pieces\nthan have fled from thee.\"\n\nBut Sir Marhaus answered nothing, and sorely groaning fled away.\n\n\"Farewell, Sir knight, farewell,\" laughed Tristram, whose own voice now\nwas hoarse and faint with loss of blood; \"I have thy sword and shield in\nmy safe keeping, and will wear them in all places where I ride on my\nadventures, and before King Arthur and the Table Round.\"\n\nThen was Sir Marhaus taken back to Ireland by his company; and as soon\nas he arrived his wounds were searched, and when they searched his head\nthey found therein a piece of Tristram's sword; but all the skill of\nsurgeons was in vain to move it out. So anon Sir Marhaus died.\n\nBut the queen, his sister, took the piece of sword-blade and put it\nsafely by, for she thought that some day it might help her to revenge\nher brother's death.\n\nMeanwhile, Sir Tristram, being sorely wounded, sat down softly on a\nlittle mound and bled passing fast; and in that evil case was found anon\nby Governale and King Mark's knights. Then they gently took him up and\nbrought him in a barge back to the land, and lifted him into a bed\nwithin the castle, and had his wounds dressed carefully.\n\nBut for a great while he lay sick, and was likely to have died of the\nfirst stroke Sir Marhaus had given him with the spear, for the point of\nit was poisoned. And, though the wisest surgeons and leeches--both men\nand women--came from every part, yet could he be by no means cured. At\nlast came a wise lady, and said plainly that Sir Tristram never should\nbe healed, until he went and stayed in that same country when the poison\ncame. When this was understood, the king sent Sir Tristram in a fair and\ngoodly ship to Ireland, and by fortune he arrived fast by a castle where\nthe king and queen were. And as the ship was being anchored, he sat upon\nhis bed and harped a merry lay, and made so sweet a music as was never\nequaled.\n\nWhen the king heard that the sweet harper was a wounded knight, he sent\nfor him, and asked his name. \"I am of the country of Lyonesse,\" he\nanswered, \"and my name is Tramtrist;\" for he dared not tell his true\nname lest the vengeance of the queen should fall upon him for her\nbrother's death.\n\n\"Well,\" said King Anguish, \"thou art right welcome here, and shalt have\nall the help this land can give thee; but be not anxious if I am at\ntimes cast down and sad, for but lately in Cornwall the best knight in\nthe world, fighting for my cause, was slain; his name was Sir Marhaus, a\nknight of King Arthur's Round Table.\" And then he told Sir Tristram all\nthe story of Sir Marhaus' battle, and Sir Tristram made pretense of\ngreat surprise and sorrow, though he knew all far better than the king\nhimself.\n\nThen was he put in charge of the king's daughter, La Belle Isault, to be\nhealed of his wound, and she was as fair and noble a lady as men's eyes\nmight see. And so marvelously was she skilled in medicine, that in a few\ndays she fully cured him; and in return Sir Tramtrist taught her the\nharp; so, before long, they two began to love each other greatly.\n\nBut at that time a heathen knight, Sir Palomedes, was in Ireland, and\nmuch cherished by the king and queen. He also loved mightily La Belle\nIsault, and never wearied of making her great gifts, and seeking for her\nfavor, and was ready even to be christened for her sake. Sir Tramtrist\ntherefore hated him out of measure, and Sir Palomedes was full of rage\nand envy against Tramtrist.\n\nAnd so it befell that King Anguish proclaimed a great tournament to be\nheld, the prize whereof should be a lady called the Lady of the Launds,\nof near kindred to the king: and her the winner of the tournament should\nwed in three days afterwards, and possess all her lands. When La Belle\nIsault told Sir Tramtrist of this tournament, he said, \"Fair lady! I am\nyet a feeble knight, and but for thee had been a dead man now: what\nwouldest thou I should do? Thou knowest well I may not joust.\"\n\n\"Ah, Tramtrist,\" said she, \"why wilt thou not fight in this tournament?\nSir Palomedes will be there, and will do his mightiest; and therefore be\nthou there, I pray thee, or else he will be winner of the prize.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said Tramtrist, \"I will go, and for thy sake will do my best;\nbut let me go unknown to all men; and do thou, I pray thee, keep my\ncounsel, and help me to a disguise.\"\n\nSo on the day of jousting came Sir Palomedes, with a black shield, and\noverthrew many knights. And all the people wondered at his prowess; for\non the first day he put to the worse Sir Gawain, Sir Gaheris, Sir\nAgravaine, Sir Key, and many more from far and near. And on the morrow\nhe was conqueror again, and overthrew the king with a hundred knights\nand the King of Scotland. But presently Sir Tramtrist rode up to the\nlists, having been let out at a privy postern of the castle, where none\ncould see. La Belle Isault had dressed him in white armor and given him\na white horse and shield, and so he came suddenly into the field as it\nhad been a bright angel.\n\nAs soon as Sir Palomedes saw him he ran at him with a great spear in\nrest, but Sir Tramtrist was ready, and at the first encounter hurled him\nto the ground. Then there arose a great cry that the knight with the\nblack shield was overthrown. And Palomedes, sorely hurt and shamed,\nsought out a secret way and would have left the field; but Tramtrist\nwatched him, and rode after him, and bade him stay, for he had not yet\ndone with him. Then did Sir Palomedes turn with fury, and lash at Sir\nTramtrist with his sword; but at the first stroke Sir Tramtrist smote\nhim to the earth, and cried, \"Do now all my commands, or take thy\ndeath.\" Then he yielded to Sir Tristram's mercy, and promised to forsake\nLa Belle Isault, and for twelve months to wear no arms or armor. And\nrising up, he cut his armor off him into shreds with rage and madness,\nand turned and left the field: and Sir Tramtrist also left the lists,\nand rode back to the castle through the postern gate.\n\nThen was Sir Tramtrist long cherished by the King and Queen of Ireland,\nand ever with La Belle Isault. But on a certain day, while he was\nbathing, came the queen with La Belle Isault by chance into his chamber,\nand saw his sword lie naked on the bed: anon she drew it from the\nscabbard and looked at it a long while, and both thought it a passing\nfair sword; but within a foot and a half of the end there was a great\npiece broken out, and while the queen was looking at the gap, she\nsuddenly remembered the piece of sword-blade that was found in the\nbrain-pan of her brother Sir Marhaus.\n\nTherewith she turned and cried, \"By my faith, this is the felon knight\nwho slew thy uncle!\" And running to her chamber she sought in her casket\nfor the piece of iron from Sir Marhaus' head and brought it back, and\nfitted it in Tristram's sword; and surely did it fit therein as closely\nas it had been but yesterday broke out.\n\nThen the queen caught the sword up fiercely in her hand, and ran into\nthe room where Sir Tristram was yet in his bath, and making straight for\nhim, had run him through the body, had not his squire, Sir Hebes, got\nher in his arms, and pulled the sword away from her.\n\nThen ran she to the king, and fell upon her knees before him, saying,\n\"Lord and husband, thou hast here in thy house that felon knight who\nslew my brother Marhaus!\"\n\n\"Who is it?\" said the king.\n\n\"It is Sir Tramtrist!\" said she, \"whom Isault hath healed.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" replied the king, \"I am full grieved thereat, for he is a good\nknight as ever I have seen in any field; but I charge thee leave thou\nhim, and let me deal with him.\"\n\nThen the king went to Sir Tramtrist's chamber and found him all armed\nand ready to mount his horse, and said to him, \"Sir Tramtrist, it is not\nto prove me against thee I come, for it were shameful of thy host to\nseek thy life. Depart in peace, but tell me first thy name, and whether\nthou slewest my brother, Sir Marhaus.\"\n\nThen Sir Tristram told him all the truth, and how he had hid his name,\nto be unknown in Ireland; and when he had ended, the king declared he\nheld him in no blame. \"Howbeit, I cannot for mine honor's sake retain\nthee at this court, for so I should displease my barons, and my wife,\nand all her kin.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I thank thee for the goodness thou hast shown\nme here, and for the great goodness my lady, thy daughter, hath shown\nme; and it may chance to be more for thy advantage if I live than if I\ndie; for wheresoever I may be, I shall ever seek thy service, and shall\nbe my lady thy daughter's servant in all places, and her knight in right\nand wrong, and shall never fail to do for her as much as knight can do.\"\n\nThen Sir Tristram went to La Belle Isault, and took his leave of her. \"O\ngentle knight,\" said she, \"full of grief am I at your departing, for\nnever yet I saw a man to love so well.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said he, \"I promise faithfully that all my life I shall be your\nknight.\"\n\nThen Sir Tristram gave her a ring, and she gave him another, and after\nthat he left her, weeping and lamenting, and went among the barons, and\nopenly took his leave of them all, saying, \"Fair lords, it so befalleth\nthat I now must depart hence; therefore, if there be any here whom I\nhave offended or who is grieved with me, let him now say it, and before\nI go I will amend it to the utmost of my power. And if there be but one\nwho would speak shame of me behind my back, let him say it now or never,\nand here is my body to prove it on--body against body.\"\n\nAnd all stood still and said no word, though some there were of the\nqueen's kindred who would have assailed him had they dared.\n\nSo Sir Tristram departed from Ireland and took the sea and came with a\nfair wind to Tintagil. And when the news came to King Mark that Sir\nTristram was returned, healed of his wound, he was passing glad, and so\nwere all his barons. And when he had visited the king his uncle, he rode\nto his father, King Meliodas, and there had all the heartiest welcome\nthat could be made him. And both the king and queen gave largely to him\nof their lands and goods.\n\nAnon he came again to King Mark's court, and there lived in great joy\nand pleasure, till within a while the king grew jealous of his fame, and\nof the love and favor shown him by all damsels. And as long as King Mark\nlived, he never after loved Sir Tristram, though there was much fair\nspeech between them.\n\nThen it befell upon a certain day that the good knight Sir Bleoberis de\nGanis, brother to Sir Blamor de Ganis, and nigh cousin to Sir Lancelot\nof the Lake, came to King Mark's court and asked of him a favor. And\nthough the king marveled, seeing he was a man of great renown, and a\nknight of the Round Table, he granted him all his asking. Then said Sir\nBleoberis, \"I will have the fairest lady in your court, at my own\nchoosing.\"\n\n\"I may not say thee nay,\" replied the king; \"choose therefore, but take\nall the issues of thy choice.\"\n\nSo when he had looked around, he chose the wife of Earl Segwarides, and\ntook her by the hand, and set her upon horseback behind his squire, and\nrode forth on his way.\n\nPresently thereafter came in the earl, and rode out straightway after\nhim in rage. But all the ladies cried out shame upon Sir Tristram that\nhe had not gone, and one rebuked him foully and called him coward\nknight, that he would stand and see a lady forced away from his uncle's\ncourt. But Sir Tristram answered her, \"Fair lady, it is not my place to\ntake part in this quarrel while her lord and husband is here to do it.\nHad he not been at this court, peradventure I had been her champion. And\nif it so befall that he speed ill, then may it happen that I speak with\nthat foul knight before he pass out of this realm.\"\n\nAnon ran in one of Sir Segwarides' squires, and told that his master was\nsore wounded, and at the point of death. When Sir Tristram heard that,\nhe was soon armed and on his horse, and Governale, his servant, followed\nhim with shield and spear.\n\nAnd as he rode, he met his cousin Sir Andret, who had been commanded by\nKing Mark to bring home to him two knights of King Arthur's court who\nroamed the country thereabouts seeking adventures.\n\n\"What tidings?\" said Sir Tristram.\n\n\"God help me, never worse,\" replied his cousin; \"for those I went to\nbring have beaten and defeated me, and set my message at naught.\"\n\n\"Fair cousin,\" said Sir Tristram, \"ride ye on your way, perchance if I\nshould meet them ye may be revenged.\"\n\nSo Sir Andret rode into Cornwall, but Sir Tristram rode after the two\nknights who had misused him, namely, Sir Sagramour le Desirous, and Sir\nDodinas le Savage. And before long he saw them but a little way before\nhim.\n\n\"Sir,\" said Governale, \"by my advice thou wilt leave them alone, for\nthey be two well-proved knights of Arthur's court.\"\n\n\"Shall I not therefore rather meet them!\" said Sir Tristram, and, riding\nswiftly after them, he called to them to stop, and asked them whence\nthey came, and whither they were going, and what they were doing in\nthose marches.\n\nSir Sagramour looked haughtily at Sir Tristram, and made mocking of his\nwords, and said, \"Fair knight, be ye a knight of Cornwall?\"\n\n\"Wherefore askest thou that?\" said Tristram.\n\n\"Truly, because it is full seldom seen,\" replied Sir Sagramour, \"that\nCornish knights are valiant with their arms as with their tongues. It is\nbut two hours since there met us such a Cornish knight, who spoke great\nwords with might and prowess, but anon, with little mastery, he was laid\non earth, as I trow wilt thou be also.\"\n\n\"Fair lords,\" said Sir Tristram, \"it may chance I be a better man than\nhe; but, be that as it may, he was my cousin, and for his sake I will\nassail ye both; one Cornish knight against ye two.\"\n\nWhen Sir Dodinas le Savage heard this speech, he caught at his spear and\nsaid, \"Sir knight, keep well thyself;\" and then they parted and came\ntogether as it had been thunder, and Sir Dodinas' spear split asunder;\nbut Sir Tristram smote him with so full a stroke as hurled him over his\nhorse's crupper, and nearly brake his neck. Sir Sagramour, seeing his\nfellow's fall, marveled who this new knight be, and dressed his spear,\nand came against Sir Tristram as a whirlwind; but Sir Tristram smote him\na mighty buffet, and rolled him with his horse down on the ground; and\nin the falling he brake his thigh.\n\nThen, looking at them both as they lay groveling on the grass, Sir\nTristram said, \"Fair knights, will ye joust any more? Are there no\nbigger knights in King Arthur's court? Will ye soon again speak shame of\nCornish knights?\"\n\n\"Thou hast defeated us, in truth,\" replied Sir Sagramour, \"and on the\nfaith of knighthood I require thee tell us thy right name?\"\n\n\"Ye charge me by a great thing,\" said Sir Tristram, \"and I will answer\nye.\"\n\nAnd when they heard his name the two knights were right glad that they\nhad met Sir Tristram, for his deeds were known through all the land, and\nthey prayed him to abide in their company.\n\n\"Nay,\" said he, \"I must find a fellow-knight of yours, Sir Bleoberis de\nGanis, whom I seek.\"\n\n\"God speed you well,\" said the two knights; and Sir Tristram rode away.\n\nSoon he saw before him in a valley Sir Bleoberis with Sir Segwarides'\nwife riding behind his squire upon a palfrey. At that he cried out\naloud, \"Abide, Sir knight of King Arthur's court, bring back again that\nlady or deliver her to me.\"\n\n\"I will not,\" said Bleoberis, \"for I dread no Cornish knight.\"\n\n\"Why,\" said Sir Tristram, \"may not a Cornish knight do well as any\nother? This day, but three miles back, two knights of thy own court met\nme, and found one Cornish knight enough for both before we parted.\"\n\n\"What were their names?\" said Sir Bleoberis.\n\n\"Sir Sagramour le Desirous and Sir Dodinas le Savage,\" said Sir\nTristram.\n\n\"Ah,\" said Sir Bleoberis, amazed; \"hast thou then met with them? By my\nfaith, they were two good knights and men of worship, and if thou hast\nbeat both thou must needs be a good knight; but for all that, thou shalt\nbeat me also ere thou hast this lady.\"\n\n\"Defend thee, then,\" cried out Sir Tristram, and came upon him swiftly\nwith his spear in rest. But Sir Bleoberis was as swift as he, and each\nbore down the other, horse and all, on to the earth.\n\nThen they sprang clear of their horses, and lashed together full eagerly\nand mightily with their swords, tracing and traversing on the right hand\nand on the left more than two hours, and sometimes rushing together with\nsuch fury that they both lay groveling on the ground. At last Sir\nBleoberis started back and said, \"Now, gentle knight, hold hard awhile,\nand let us speak together.\"\n\n\"Say on,\" said Sir Tristram, \"and I will answer thee.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Bleoberis, \"I would know thy name, and court, and\ncountry.\"\n\n\"I have no shame to tell them,\" said Sir Tristram. \"I am King Meliodas'\nson, and my mother was sister to King Mark, from whose court I now come.\nMy name is Sir Tristram de Lyonesse.\"\n\n\"Truly,\" said Sir Bleoberis, \"I am right glad to hear it, for thou art\nhe that slew Sir Marhaus hand-to-hand, fighting for the Cornish tribute;\nand overcame Sir Palomedes at the great Irish tournament, where also\nthou didst overthrow Sir Gawain and his nine companions.\"\n\n\"I am that knight,\" said Sir Tristram, \"and now I pray thee tell me thy\nname.\"\n\n\"I am Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, cousin of Sir Lancelot of the Lake, one of\nthe best knights in all the world,\" he answered.\n\n\"Thou sayest truth,\" said Sir Tristram; \"for Sir Lancelot, as all men\nknow, is peerless in courtesy and knighthood, and for the great love I\nbear to his name I will not willingly fight more with thee his\nkinsman.\"\n\n\"In good faith, sir,\" said Sir Bleoberis, \"I am as loth to fight thee\nmore; but since thou hast followed me to win this lady, I proffer thee\nkindness, courtesy, and gentleness; this lady shall be free to go with\nwhich of us she pleaseth best.\"\n\n\"I am content,\" said Sir Tristram, \"for I doubt not she will come to\nme.\"\n\n\"That shalt thou shortly prove,\" said he, and called his squire, and set\nthe lady in the midst between them, who forthwith walked to Sir\nBleoberis and elected to abide with him. Which, when Sir Tristram saw,\nhe was in wondrous anger with her, and felt that he could scarce for\nshame return to King Mark's court. But Sir Bleoberis said, \"Hearken to\nme, good knight, Sir Tristram, because King Mark gave me free choice of\nany gift, and because this lady chose to go with me, I took her; but now\nI have fulfilled my quest and my adventure, and for thy sake she shall\nbe sent back to her husband at the abbey where he lieth.\"\n\nSo Sir Tristram rode back to Tintagil, and Sir Bleoberis to the abbey\nwhere Sir Segwarides lay wounded, and there delivered up his lady, and\ndeparted as a noble knight.\n\nAfter this adventure Sir Tristram abode still at his uncle's court, till\nin the envy of his heart King Mark devised a plan to be rid of him. So\non a certain day he desired him to depart again for Ireland, and there\ndemand La Belle Isault on his behalf, to be his queen--forever had Sir\nTristram praised her beauty and her goodness, till King Mark desired to\nwed her for himself. Moreover, he believed his nephew surely would be\nslain by the queen's kindred if he once were found again in Ireland.\n\nBut Sir Tristram, scorning fear, made ready to depart, and took with him\nthe noblest knights that could be found, arrayed in the richest fashion.\n\nAnd when they were come to Ireland, upon a certain day Sir Tristram gave\nhis uncle's message, and King Anguish consented thereto.\n\nBut when La Belle Isault was told the tidings she was very sorrowful and\nloth--yet made she ready to set forth with Sir Tristram, and took with\nher Dame Bragwaine, her chief gentlewoman. Then the queen gave Dame\nBragwaine, and Governale, Sir Tristram's servant, a little flask, and\ncharged them that La Belle Isault and King Mark should both drink of it\non their marriage day, and then should they surely love each other all\ntheir lives.\n\nAnon, Sir Tristram and Isault, with a great company, took the sea and\ndeparted. And so it chanced that one day sitting in their cabin they\nwere athirst, and saw a little flask of gold which seemed to hold good\nwine. So Sir Tristram took it up, and said, \"Fair lady, this looketh to\nbe the best of wines, and your maid, Dame Bragwaine, and my servant,\nGovernale, have kept it for themselves.\" Thereat they both laughed\nmerrily, and drank each after other from the flask, and never before had\nthey tasted any wine which seemed so good and sweet. But by the time\nthey had finished drinking they loved each other so well that their\nlove nevermore might leave them for weal or woe. And thus it came to\npass that though Sir Tristram might never wed La Belle Isault, he did\nthe mightiest deeds of arms for her sake only all his life.\n\nThen they sailed onwards till they came to a castle called Pluere, where\nthey would have rested. But anon there ran forth a great company and\ntook them prisoners. And when they were in prison, Sir Tristram asked a\nknight and lady whom they found therein wherefore they were so\nshamefully dealt with; \"for,\" said he, \"it was never the custom of any\nplace of honor that I ever came unto to seize a knight and lady asking\nshelter and thrust them into prison, and a full evil and discourteous\ncustom is it.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said the knight, \"know ye not that this is called the Castle\nPluere, or the weeping castle, and that it is an ancient custom here\nthat whatsoever knight abideth in it must needs fight the lord of it,\nSir Brewnor, and he that is the weakest shall lose his head. And if the\nlady he hath with him be less fair than the lord's wife, she shall lose\nher head; but if she be fairer, then must the lady of the castle lose\nher head.\"\n\n\"Now Heaven help me,\" said Sir Tristram, \"but this is a foul and\nshameful custom. Yet have I one advantage, for my lady is the fairest\nthat doth live in all the world, so that I nothing fear for her; and as\nfor me, I will full gladly fight for my own head in a fair field.\"\n\nThen said the knight, \"Look ye be up betimes to-morrow, and make you\nready and your lady.\"\n\nAnd on the morrow came Sir Brewnor to Sir Tristram, and put him and\nIsault forth out of prison, and brought him a horse and armor, and bade\nhim make ready, for all the commons and estates of that lordship waited\nin the field to see and judge the battle.\n\nThen Sir Brewnor, holding his lady by the hand, all muffled, came forth,\nand Sir Tristram went to meet him with La Belle Isault beside him,\nmuffled also. Then said Sir Brewnor, \"Sir knight, if thy lady be fairer\nthan mine, with thy sword smite off my lady's head; but if my lady be\nfairer than thine, with my sword I will smite off thy lady's head. And\nif I overcome thee thy lady shall be mine, and thou shalt lose thy\nhead.\"\n\n\"Sir knight,\" replied Sir Tristram, \"this is a right foul and felon\ncustom, and rather than my lady shall lose her head will I lose my own.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Sir Brewnor, \"but the ladies shall be now compared together\nand judgment shall be had.\"\n\n\"I consent not,\" cried Sir Tristram, \"for who is here that will give\nrightful judgment? Yet doubt not that my lady is far fairer than thine\nown, and that will I prove and make good.\" Therewith Sir Tristram lifted\nup the veil from off La Belle Isault, and stood beside her with his\nnaked sword drawn in his hand.\n\nThen Sir Brewnor unmuffled his lady and did in like manner. But when he\nsaw La Belle Isault he knew that none could be so fair, and all there\npresent gave their judgment so. Then said Sir Tristram, \"Because thou\nand thy lady have long used this evil custom, and have slain many good\nknights and ladies, it were a just thing to destroy thee both.\"\n\n\"In good sooth,\" said Sir Brewnor, \"thy lady is fairer than mine, and of\nall women I never saw any so fair. Therefore, slay my lady if thou wilt,\nand I doubt not but I shall slay thee and have thine.\"\n\n\"Thou shalt win her,\" said Sir Tristram, \"as dearly as ever knight won\nlady; and because of thy own judgment and of the evil custom that thy\nlady hath consented to, I will slay her as thou sayest.\"\n\nAnd therewithal Sir Tristram went to him and took his lady from him, and\nsmote off her head at a stroke.\n\n\"Now take thy horse,\" cried out Sir Brewnor, \"for since I have lost my\nlady I will win thine and have thy life.\"\n\nSo they took their horses and came together as fast as they could fly,\nand Sir Tristram lightly smote Sir Brewnor from his horse. But he rose\nright quickly, and when Sir Tristram came again he thrust his horse\nthrough both the shoulders, so that it reeled and fell. But Sir Tristram\nwas light and nimble, and voided his horse, and rose up and dressed his\nshield before him, though meanwhile, ere he could draw out his sword,\nSir Brewnor gave him three or four grievous strokes. Then they rushed\nfuriously together like two wild boars, and fought hurtling and hewing\nhere and there for nigh two hours, and wounded each other full sorely.\nThen at the last Sir Brewnor rushed upon Sir Tristram and took him in\nhis arms to throw him, for he trusted greatly in his strength. But Sir\nTristram was at that time called the strongest and biggest knight of the\nworld; for he was bigger than Sir Lancelot, though Sir Lancelot was\nbetter breathed. So anon he thrust Sir Brewnor groveling to the earth,\nand then unlaced his helm and struck off his head. Then all they that\nbelonged to the castle came and did him homage and fealty, and prayed\nhim to abide there for a season and put an end to that foul custom.\n\nBut within a while he departed and came to Cornwall, and there King Mark\nwas forthwith wedded to La Belle Isault with great joy and splendor.\n\nAnd Sir Tristram had high honor, and ever lodged at the king's court.\nBut for all he had done him such services King Mark hated him, and on a\ncertain day he set two knights to fall upon him as he rode in the\nforest. But Sir Tristram lightly smote one's head off, and sorely\nwounded the other, and made him bear his fellow's body to the king. At\nthat the king dissembled and hid from Sir Tristram that the knights were\nsent by him; yet more than ever he hated him in secret, and sought to\nslay him.\n\nSo on a certain day, by the assent of Sir Andret, a false knight, and\nforty other knights, Sir Tristram was taken prisoner in his sleep and\ncarried to a chapel on the rocks above the sea to be cast down. But as\nthey were about to cast him in, suddenly he brake his bonds asunder, and\nrushing at Sir Andret, took his sword and smote him down therewith.\nThen, leaping down the rocks where none could follow, he escaped them.\nBut one shot after him and wounded him full sorely with a poisoned arrow\nin the arm.\n\nAnon, his servant Governale, with Sir Lambegus, sought him and found him\nsafe among the rocks, and told him that King Mark had banished him and\nall his followers to avenge Sir Andret's death. So they took ship and\ncame to Brittany.\n\nNow Sir Tristram, suffering great anguish from his wound, was told to\nseek Isoude, the daughter of the King of Brittany, for she alone could\ncure such wounds. Wherefore he went to King Howell's court, and said,\n\"Lord, I am come into this country to have help from thy daughter, for\nmen tell me none but she may help me.\" And Isoude gladly offering to do\nher best, within a month he was made whole.\n\nWhile he abode still at that court, an earl named Grip made war upon\nKing Howell, and besieged him; and Sir Kay Hedius, the king's son, went\nforth against him, but was beaten in battle and sore wounded. Then the\nking praying Sir Tristram for his help, he took with him such knights as\nhe could find, and on the morrow, in another battle, did such deeds of\narms that all the land spake of him. For there he slew the earl with his\nown hands, and more than a hundred knights besides.\n\nWhen he came back King Howell met him, and saluted him with every honor\nand rejoicing that could be thought of, and took him in his arms, and\nsaid, \"Sir Tristram, all my kingdom will I resign to thee.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" answered he, \"God forbid, for truly am I beholden to you forever\nfor your daughter's sake.\"\n\nThen the king prayed him to take Isoude in marriage, with a great dower\nof lands and castles. To this Sir Tristram presently consenting anon\nthey were wedded at the court.\n\nBut within a while Sir Tristram greatly longed to see Cornwall, and Sir\nKay Hedius desired to go with him. So they took ship; but as soon as\nthey were at sea the wind blew them upon the coast of North Wales, nigh\nto Castle Perilous, hard by a forest wherein were many strange\nadventures ofttimes to be met. Then said Sir Tristram to Sir Kay Hedius,\n\"Let us prove some of them ere we depart.\" So they took their horses and\nrode forth.\n\nWhen they had ridden a mile or more, Sir Tristram spied a goodly knight\nbefore him well armed, who sat by a clear fountain with a strong horse\nnear him, tied to an oak-tree. \"Fair sir,\" said he, when they came near,\n\"ye seem to be a knight errant by your arms and harness, therefore make\nready now to joust with one of us, or both.\"\n\nThereat the knight spake not, but took his shield and buckled it round\nhis neck, and leaping on his horse caught a spear from his squire's\nhand.\n\nThen said Sir Kay Hedius to Sir Tristram, \"Let me assay him.\"\n\n\"Do thy best,\" said he.\n\nSo the two knights met, and Sir Kay Hedius fell sorely wounded in the\nbreast.\n\n\"Thou hast well jousted,\" cried Sir Tristram to the knight; \"now make\nready for me!\"\n\n\"I am ready,\" answered he, and encountered him, and smote him so heavily\nthat he fell down from his horse. Whereat, being ashamed, he put his\nshield before him, and drew his sword, crying to the strange knight to\ndo likewise. Then they fought on foot for well nigh two hours, till they\nwere both weary.\n\nAt last Sir Tristram said, \"In all my life I never met a knight so\nstrong and well-breathed as ye be. It were a pity we should further hurt\neach other. Hold thy hand, fair knight, and tell me thy name.\"\n\n\"That will I,\" answered he, \"if thou wilt tell me thine.\"\n\n\"My name,\" said he, \"is Sir Tristram of Lyonesse.\"\n\n\"And mine, Sir Lamoracke of Gaul.\"\n\nThen both cried out together, \"Well met;\" and Sir Lamoracke said, \"Sir\nfor your great renown, I will that ye have all the worship of this\nbattle, and therefore will I yield me unto you.\" And therewith he took\nhis sword by the point to yield him.\n\n\"Nay,\" said Sir Tristram, \"ye shall not do so, for well I know ye do it\nof courtesy, and not of dread.\" And therewith he offered his sword to\nSir Lamoracke, saying, \"Sir, as an overcome knight, I yield me unto you\nas unto the man of noblest powers I have ever met with.\"\n\n\"Hold,\" said Sir Lamoracke, \"let us now swear together nevermore to\nfight against each other.\"\n\nThen did they swear as he said.\n\nThen Sir Tristram returned to Sir Kay Hedius, and when he was whole of\nhis wounds, they departed together in a ship, and landed on the coast of\nCornwall. And when they came ashore, Sir Tristram eagerly sought news of\nLa Belle Isault. And one told him in mistake that she was dead. Whereat,\nfor sore and grievous sorrow, he fell down in a swoon, and so lay for\nthree days and nights.\n\nWhen he awoke therefrom he was crazed, and ran into the forest and abode\nthere like a wild man many days; whereby he waxed lean and weak of body,\nand would have died, but that a hermit laid some meat beside him as he\nslept. Now in that forest was a giant named Tauleas, who, for fear of\nTristram, had hid himself within a castle, but when they told him he was\nmad, came forth and went at large again. And on a certain day he saw a\nknight of Cornwall, named Sir Dinaunt, pass by with a lady, and when he\nhad alighted by a well to rest, the giant leaped out from his ambush,\nand took him by the throat to slay him. But Sir Tristram, as he wandered\nthrough the forest, came upon them as they struggled; and when the\nknight cried out for help, he rushed upon the giant, and taking up Sir\nDinaunt's sword, struck off therewith the giant's head, and straightway\ndisappeared among the trees.\n\nAnon, Sir Dinaunt took the head of Tauleas, and bare it with him to the\ncourt of King Mark, whither he was bound, and told of his adventures.\n\"Where had ye this adventure?\" said King Mark.\n\n\"At a fair fountain in thy forest,\" answered he.\n\n\"I would fain see that wild man,\" said the king.\n\nSo within a day or two he commanded his knights to a great hunting in\nthe forest. And when the king came to the well, he saw a wild man lying\nthere asleep, having a sword beside him; but he knew not that it was Sir\nTristram. Then he blew his horn, and summoned all his knights to take\nhim gently up and bear him to the court.\n\nAnd when they came thereto they bathed and washed him, and brought him\nsomewhat to his right mind. Now La Belle Isault knew not that Sir\nTristram was in Cornwall; but when she heard that a wild man had been\nfound in the forest, she came to see him. And so sorely was he changed,\nshe knew him not. \"Yet,\" said she to Dame Bragwaine, \"in good faith I\nseem to have beheld him ofttimes before.\"\n\nAs she thus spoke a little hound, which Sir Tristram had given her when\nshe first came to Cornwall, and which was ever with her, saw Sir\nTristram lying there, and leapt upon him, licking his hands and face,\nand whined and barked for joy.\n\n\"Alas,\" cried out La Belle Isault, \"it is my own true knight, Sir\nTristram.\"\n\nAnd at her voice Sir Tristram's senses wholly came again, and wellnigh\nhe wept for joy to see his lady living.\n\nBut never would the hound depart from Tristram; and when King Mark and\nother knights came up to see him, it sat upon his body and bayed at all\nwho came too near. Then one of the knights said, \"Surely this is Sir\nTristram; I see it by the hound.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the king, \"it cannot be,\" and asked Sir Tristram on his\nfaith who he was.\n\n\"My name,\" said he, \"is Sir Tristram of Lyonesse, and now ye may do what\nye list with me.\"\n\nThen the king said, \"It repents me that ye are recovered,\" and sought to\nmake his barons slay him. But most of them would not assent thereto, and\ncounseled him instead to banish Tristram for ten years again from\nCornwall, for returning without orders from the king. So he was sworn to\ndepart forthwith.\n\nAnd as he went towards the ship a knight of King Arthur, named Sir\nDinadan, who sought him, came and said, \"Fair knight, ere that you pass\nout of this country, I pray you joust with me!\"\n\n\"With a good will,\" said he.\n\nThen they ran together, and Sir Tristram lightly smote him from his\nhorse. Anon he prayed Sir Tristram's leave to bear him company, and when\nhe had consented they rode together to the ship.\n\nThen was Sir Tristram full of bitterness of heart, and said to all the\nknights who took him to the shore, \"Greet well King Mark and all mine\nenemies from me, and tell them I will come again when I may. Well am I\nnow rewarded for slaying Sir Marhaus, and delivering this kingdom from\nits bondage, and for the perils wherewithal I brought La Belle Isault\nfrom Ireland to the king, and rescued her at the Castle Pluere, and for\nthe slaying of the giant Tauleas, and all the other deeds that I have\ndone for Cornwall and King Mark.\" Thus angrily and passing bitterly he\nspake, and went his way.\n\nAnd after sailing awhile the ship stayed at a landing-place upon the\ncoast of Wales; and there Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan alighted, and on\nthe shore they met two knights, Sir Ector and Sir Bors. And Sir Ector\nencountered with Sir Dinadan and smote him to the ground; but Sir Bors\nwould not encounter with Sir Tristram, \"For,\" said he, \"no Cornish\nknights are men of worship.\" Thereat Sir Tristram was full wroth, but\npresently there met them two more knights, Sir Bleoberis and Sir Driant;\nand Sir Bleoberis proffered to joust with Sir Tristram, who shortly\nsmote him down.\n\n\"I had not thought,\" cried out Sir Bors, \"that any Cornish knight could\ndo so valiantly.\"\n\nThen Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan departed, and rode into a forest, and\nas they rode a damsel met them, who for Sir Lancelot's sake was seeking\nany noble knights to rescue him. For Queen Morgan le Fay, who hated him,\nhad ordered thirty men-at-arms to lie in ambush for him as he passed,\nwith the intent to kill him. So the damsel prayed them to rescue him.\n\nThen said Sir Tristram, \"Bring me to that place, fair damsel.\"\n\nBut Sir Dinadan cried out, \"It is not possible for us to meet with\nthirty knights! I will take no part in such a hardihood, for to match\none or two or three knights is enough; but to match fifteen I will\nnever assay.\"\n\n\"For shame,\" replied Sir Tristram, \"do but your part.\"\n\n\"That will I not,\" said he; \"wherefore, I pray ye, lend me your shield,\nfor it is of Cornwall, and because men of that country are deemed\ncowards, ye are but little troubled as ye ride with knights to joust\nwith.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Sir Tristram, \"I will never give my shield up for her sake\nwho gave it me; but if thou wilt not stand by me to-day I will surely\nslay thee; for I ask no more of thee than to fight one knight, and if\nthy heart will not serve thee that much, thou shalt stand by and look on\nme and them.\"\n\n\"Would God that I had never met with ye!\" cried Sir Dinadan; \"but I\npromise to look on and do all that I may to save myself.\"\n\nAnon they came to where the thirty knights lay waiting, and Sir Tristram\nrushed upon them, saying, \"Here is one who fights for love of Lancelot!\"\nThen slew he two of them at the first onset with his spear, and ten more\nswiftly after with his sword. At that Sir Dinadan took courage, and\nassailed the others with him, till they turned and fled.\n\nBut Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan rode on till nightfall, and meeting\nwith a shepherd, asked him if he knew of any lodging thereabouts.\n\n\"Truly, fair lords,\" said he, \"there is good lodging in a castle hard\nby, but it is a custom there that none shall lodge therein save ye first\njoust with two knights, and as soon as ye be within, ye shall find your\nmatch.\"\n\n\"That is an evil lodging,\" said Sir Dinadan; \"lodge where ye will, I\nwill not lodge there.\"\n\n\"Shame on thee!\" said Sir Tristram; \"art thou a knight at all?\"\n\nThen he required him on his knighthood to go with him, and they rode\ntogether to the castle. As soon as they were near, two knights came out\nand ran full speed against them; but both of them they overthrew, and\nwent within the castle, and had noble cheer. Now, when they were unarmed\nand ready to take rest, there came to the castle-gate two knights, Sir\nPalomedes and Sir Gaheris, and desired the custom of the castle.\n\n\"I would far rather rest than fight,\" said Sir Dinadan.\n\n\"That may not be,\" replied Sir Tristram, \"for we must needs defend the\ncustom of the castle, seeing we have overcome its lords; therefore, make\nready.\"\n\n\"Alas that I ever came into your company,\" said Sir Dinadan.\n\nSo they made ready, and Sir Gaheris encountered Sir Tristram and fell\nbefore him; but Sir Palomedes overthrew Sir Dinadan. Then would all\nfight on foot save Sir Dinadan, for he was sorely bruised and frighted\nby his fall. And when Sir Tristram prayed him to fight, \"I will not,\"\nanswered he, \"for I was wounded by those thirty knights with whom we\nfought this morning; and as to you, ye are in truth like one gone mad,\nand who would cast himself away! There be but two knights in the world\nso mad, and the other is Sir Lancelot, with whom I once rode forth, who\nkept me evermore at battling so that for a quarter of a year thereafter\nI lay in my bed. Heaven defend me again from either of your\nfellowships!\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Sir Tristram, \"if it must be, I will fight them both.\"\n\nTherewith he drew his sword and assailed Sir Palomedes and Sir Gaheris\ntogether; but Sir Palomedes said, \"Nay, but it is a shame for two to\nfight with one.\" So he bade Sir Gaheris stand by, and he and Sir\nTristram fought long together; but in the end Sir Tristram drave him\nbackward, whereat Sir Gaheris and Sir Dinadan with one accord sundered\nthem. Then Sir Tristram prayed the two knights to lodge there; but\nDinadan departed and rode away into a priory hard by, and there he\nlodged that night.\n\nAnd on the morrow came Sir Tristram to the priory to find him, and\nseeing him so weary that he could not ride, he left him, and departed.\nAt that same priory was lodged Sir Pellinore, who asked Sir Dinadan Sir\nTristram's name, but could not learn it, for Sir Tristram had charged\nthat he should remain unknown. Then said Sir Pellinore, \"Since ye will\nnot tell it me, I will ride after him and find it myself.\"\n\n\"Beware, Sir knight,\" said Sir Dinadan, \"ye will repent it if ye follow\nhim.\"\n\nBut Sir Pellinore straightway mounted and overtook him, and cried to him\nto joust; whereat Sir Tristram forthwith turned and smote him down; and\nwounded him full sorely in the shoulder.\n\nOn the day after, Sir Tristram met a herald, who told him of a\ntournament proclaimed between King Carados of Scotland, and the King of\nNorth Wales, to be held at the Maiden's Castle. Now King Carados sought\nSir Lancelot to fight there on his side, and the King of North Wales\nsought Sir Tristram. And Sir Tristram purposed to be there. So as he\nrode, he met Sir Key, the seneschal, and Sir Sagramour, and Sir Key\nproffered to joust with him. But he refused, desiring to keep himself\nunwearied for the tourney. Then Sir Key cried, \"Sir knight of Cornwall,\njoust with me, or yield as recreant.\" When Sir Tristram heard that, he\nfiercely turned and set his spear in rest, and spurred his horse towards\nhim. But when Sir Key saw him so madly coming on, he in his turn\nrefused, whereat Sir Tristram called him coward, till for shame he was\ncompelled to meet him. Then Sir Tristram lightly smote him down, and\nrode away. But Sir Sagramour pursued him, crying loudly to joust with\nhim also. So Sir Tristram turned and quickly overthrew him likewise, and\ndeparted.\n\nAnon a damsel met him as he rode, and told him of a knight adventurous\nwho did great harm thereby, and prayed him for his help. But as he went\nwith her he met Sir Gawain, who knew the damsel for a maiden of Queen\nMorgan le Fay. Knowing, therefore, that she needs must have evil plots\nagainst Sir Tristram, Sir Gawain demanded of him courteously whither he\nwent.\n\n\"I know not whither,\" said he, \"save as this damsel leadeth me.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Gawain, \"ye shall not ride with her, for she and her\nlady never yet did good to any;\" and, drawing his sword, he said to the\ndamsel, \"Tell me now straightway for what cause thou leadest this\nknight, or else shalt thou die; for I know of old thy lady's treason.\"\n\n\"Mercy, Sir Gawain,\" cried the damsel, \"and I will tell thee all.\" Then\nshe told him that Queen Morgan had ordained thirty fair damsels to seek\nout Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristram, and by their wiles persuade them to\nher castle, where she had thirty knights in wait to slay them.\n\n\"Oh shame!\" cried Sir Gawain, \"that ever such foul treason should be\nwrought by a queen, and a king's sister.\" Then said he to Sir Tristram,\n\"Sir knight, if ye will stand with me, we will together prove the malice\nof these thirty knights.\"\n\n\"I will not fail you,\" answered he, \"for but few days since I had to do\nwith thirty knights of that same queen, and trust we may win honor as\nlightly now as then.\"\n\nSo they rode together, and when they came to the castle, Sir Gawain\ncried aloud, \"Queen Morgan le Fay, send out thy knights that we may\nfight with them.\"\n\nThen the queen urged her knights to issue forth, but they durst not, for\nthey well knew Sir Tristram, and feared him greatly.\n\nSo Sir Tristram and Sir Gawain went on their way, and as they rode they\nsaw a knight, named Sir Brewse-without-pity, chasing a lady, with intent\nto slay her. Then Sir Gawain prayed Sir Tristram to hold still and let\nhim assail that knight. So he rode up between Sir Brewse and the lady,\nand cried, \"False knight, turn thee to me and leave that lady.\" Then Sir\nBrewse turned and set his spear in rest, and rushed against Sir Gawain\nand overthrew him, and rode his horse upon him as he lay, which when Sir\nTristram saw, he cried, \"Forbear that villainy,\" and galloped at him.\nBut when Sir Brewse saw by the shield it was Sir Tristram, he turned and\nfled. And though Sir Tristram followed swiftly after him, yet he was so\nwell horsed that he escaped.\n\nAnon Sir Tristram and Sir Gawain came nigh the Maiden's Castle, and\nthere an old knight named Sir Pellonnes gave them lodging. And Sir\nPersides, the son of Sir Pellonnes, a good knight, came out to welcome\nthem. And, as they stood talking at a bay window of the castle, they saw\na goodly knight ride by on a black horse, and carrying a black shield.\n\"What knight is that?\" asked Tristram.\n\n\"One of the best knights in all the world,\" said Sir Persides.\n\n\"Is he Sir Lancelot?\" said Sir Tristram.\n\n\"Nay,\" answered Sir Persides, \"it is Sir Palomedes, who is yet\nunchristened.\"\n\nWithin a while one came and told them that a knight with a black shield\nhad smitten down thirteen knights. \"Let us go and see this jousting,\"\nsaid Sir Tristram. So they armed themselves and went down. And when Sir\nPalomedes saw Sir Persides, he sent a squire to him and proffered him to\njoust. So they jousted, and Sir Persides was overthrown. Then Sir\nTristram made ready to joust, but ere he had his spear in rest, Sir\nPalomedes took him at advantage, and struck him on the shield so that he\nfell. At that Sir Tristram was wroth out of measure and sore ashamed,\nwherefore he sent a squire and prayed Sir Palomedes to joust once again.\nBut he would not, saying, \"Tell thy master to revenge himself to-morrow\nat the Maiden's Castle, where he shall see me again.\"\n\nSo on the morrow Sir Tristram commanded his servant to give him a black\nshield with no cognizance thereon, and he and Sir Persides rode into the\ntournament and joined King Carados' side.\n\nThen the knights of the King of North Wales came forth, and there was a\ngreat fighting and breaking of spears, and overthrow of men and horses.\n\nNow King Arthur sat above in a high gallery to see the tourney and give\nthe judgment, and Sir Lancelot sat beside him. Then came against Sir\nTristram and Sir Persides, two knights with them of North Wales, Sir\nBleoberis and Sir Gaheris; and Sir Persides was smitten down and nigh\nslain, for four horsemen rode over him. But Sir Tristram rode against\nSir Gaheris and smote him from his horse, and when Sir Bleoberis next\nencountered him, he overthrew him also. Anon they horsed themselves\nagain, and with them came Sir Dinadan, whom Sir Tristram forthwith smote\nso sorely, that he reeled off his saddle. Then cried he, \"Ah! Sir\nknight, I know ye better than ye deem, and promise nevermore to come\nagainst ye.\" Then rode Sir Bleoberis at him the second time, and had a\nbuffet that felled him to the earth. And soon thereafter the king\ncommanded to cease for that day, and all men marveled who Sir Tristram\nwas, for the prize of the first day was given him in the name of the\nKnight of the Black Shield.\n\nNow Sir Palomedes was on the side of the King of North Wales, but knew\nnot Sir Tristram again. And, when he saw his marvelous deeds, he sent to\nask his name. \"As to that,\" said Sir Tristram, \"he shall not know at\nthis time, but tell him he shall know when I have broken two spears upon\nhim, for I am the knight he smote down yesterday, and whatever side he\ntaketh, I will take the other.\"\n\nSo when they told him that Sir Palomedes would be on King Carados'\nside--for he was kindred to King Arthur--\"Then will I be on the King of\nNorth Wales' side,\" said he, \"but else would I be on my lord King\nArthur's.\"\n\nThen on the morrow, when King Arthur was come, the heralds blew unto the\ntourney. And King Carados jousted with the King of a Hundred Knights and\nfell before him, and then came in King Arthur's knights and bare back\nthose of North Wales. But anon Sir Tristram came to aid them and bare\nback the battle, and fought so mightily that none could stand against\nhim, for he smote down on the right and on the left, so that all the\nknights and common people shouted his praise.\n\n\"Since I bare arms,\" said King Arthur, \"never saw I a knight do more\nmarvelous deeds.\"\n\nThen the King of the Hundred Knights and those of North Wales set upon\ntwenty knights who were of Sir Lancelot's kin, who fought all together,\nnone failing the others. When Sir Tristram beheld their nobleness and\nvalor, he marveled much. \"Well may he be valiant and full of prowess,\"\nsaid he, \"who hath such noble knights for kindred.\" So, when he had\nlooked on them awhile, he thought it shame to see two hundred men\nassailing twenty, and riding to the King of a Hundred Knights, he said,\n\"I pray thee, Sir king, leave your fighting with those twenty knights,\nfor ye be too many and they be too few. For ye shall gain no honor if ye\nwin, and that I see verily ye will not do unless ye slay them; but if ye\nwill not stay, I will ride with them and help them.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the king, \"ye shall not do so; for full gladly I will do\nyour courtesy,\" and with that he withdrew his knights.\n\nThen Sir Tristram rode his way into the forest, that no man might know\nhim. And King Arthur caused the heralds to blow that the tourney should\nend that day, and he gave the King of North Wales the prize, because Sir\nTristram was on his side. And in all the field there was such a cry that\nthe sound thereof was heard two miles away--\"The knight with the black\nshield hath won the field.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said King Arthur, \"where is that knight? it is shame to let him\nthus escape us.\" Then he comforted his knights, and said, \"Be not\ndismayed, my friends, howbeit ye have lost the day; be of good cheer;\nto-morrow I myself will be in the field, and fare with you.\" So they all\nrested that night.\n\nAnd on the morrow the heralds blew unto the field. So the King of North\nWales and the King of a Hundred Knights encountered with King Carados\nand the King of Ireland, and overthrew them. With that came King Arthur,\nand did mighty deeds of arms, and overthrew the King of North Wales and\nhis fellows, and put twenty valiant knights to the worse. Anon came in\nSir Palomedes, and made great fight upon King Arthur's side. But Sir\nTristram rode furiously against him, and Sir Palomedes was thrown from\nhis horse. Then cried King Arthur, \"Knight of the Black Shield, keep\nthyself.\" And as he spake he came upon him, and smote him from his\nsaddle to the ground, and so passed on to other knights. Then Sir\nPalomedes having now another horse rushed at Sir Tristram, as he was on\nfoot, thinking to run over him. But he was aware of him, and stepped\naside, and grasped Sir Palomedes by the arms, and pulled him off his\nhorse. Then they rushed together with their swords, and many stood still\nto gaze on them. And Sir Tristram smote Sir Palomedes with three mighty\nstrokes upon the helm, crying at each stroke, \"Take this for Sir\nTristram's sake,\" and with that Sir Palomedes fell to the earth.\n\nAnon the King of North Wales brought Sir Tristram another horse, and Sir\nPalomedes found one also. Then did they joust again with passing rage,\nfor both by now were like mad lions. But Sir Tristram avoided his spear,\nand seized Sir Palomedes by the neck, and pulled him from his saddle,\nand bore him onward ten spears' length, and so let him fall. Then King\nArthur drew forth his sword and smote the spear asunder, and gave Sir\nTristram two or three sore strokes ere he could get at his own sword.\nBut when he had it in his hand he mightily assailed the king. With that\neleven knights of Lancelot's kin went forth against him, but he smote\nthem all down to the earth, so that men marveled at his deeds.\n\nAnd the cry was now so great that Sir Lancelot got a spear in his hand,\nand came down to assay Sir Tristram, saying, \"Knight with the black\nshield, make ready.\" When Sir Tristram heard him he leveled his spear,\nand both stooping their heads, they ran together mightily, as it had\nbeen thunder. And Sir Tristram's spear brake short, but Sir Lancelot\nstruck him with a deep wound in the side and broke his spear, yet\noverthrew him not. Therewith Sir Tristram, smarting at his wound, drew\nforth his sword, and rushing at Sir Lancelot, gave him mighty strokes\nupon the helm, so that the sparks flew from it, and Sir Lancelot stooped\nhis head down to the saddle-bow. But then Sir Tristram turned and left\nthe field, for he felt his wound so grievous that he deemed he should\nsoon die. Then did Sir Lancelot hold the field against all comers, and\nput the King of North Wales and his party to the worse. And because he\nwas the last knight in the field the prize was given him.\n\nBut he refused to take it, and when the cry was raised, \"Sir Lancelot\nhath won the day,\" he cried out, \"Nay, but Sir Tristram is the victor,\nfor he first began and last endured, and so hath he done each day.\" And\nall men honored Lancelot more for his knightly words than if he had\ntaken the prize.\n\nThis was the tournament ended, and King Arthur departed to Caerleon, for\nthe Whitsun feast was now nigh come, and all the knights adventurous\nwent their ways. And many sought Sir Tristram in the forest whither he\nhad gone, and at last Sir Lancelot found him, and brought him to King\nArthur's court, as hath been told already.\n\n\n\n\nSIR GALAHAD AND THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nTHE KNIGHTS GO TO SEEK THE GRAIL\n\n\nAfter these things Merlin fell into a dotage of love for a damsel of the\nlady of the lake, and would let her have no rest, but followed her in\nevery place. And ever she encouraged him, and made him welcome till she\nhad learned all his crafts that she desired to know.\n\nThen upon a time she went with him beyond the sea to the land of\nBenwicke, and as they went he showed her many wonders, till at length\nshe was afraid, and would fain have been delivered from him.\n\nAnd as they were in the forest of Broceliande, they sat together under\nan oak-tree, and the damsel prayed to see all that charm whereby men\nmight be shut up yet alive in rocks or trees. But he refused her a long\ntime, fearing to let her know, yet in the end, her prayers and kisses\novercame him, and he told her all. Then did she make him great cheer,\nbut anon, as he lay down to sleep, she softly rose, and walked about him\nwaving her hands and muttering the charm, and presently enclosed him\nfast within the tree whereby he slept. And therefrom nevermore he could\nby any means come out for all the crafts that he could do. And so she\ndeparted and left Merlin.\n\nAt the vigil of the next Feast of Pentecost, when all the Knights of the\nRound Table were met together at Camelot, and had heard mass, and were\nabout to sit down to meat, there rode into the hall a fair lady on\nhorseback, who went straight up to King Arthur where he sat upon his\nthrone, and reverently saluted him.\n\n\"God be with thee, fair damsel,\" quoth the king; \"what desirest thou of\nme?\"\n\n\"I pray thee tell me, lord,\" she answered, \"where Sir Lancelot is.\"\n\n\"Yonder may ye see him,\" said King Arthur.\n\nThen went she to Sir Lancelot and said, \"Sir, I salute thee in King\nPelles' name, and require thee to come with me into the forest hereby.\"\n\nThen asked he her with whom she dwelt, and what she wished of him.\n\n\"I dwell with King Pelles,\" said she, \"whom Balin erst so sorely wounded\nwhen he smote the dolorous stroke. It is he who hath sent me to call\nthee.\"\n\n\"I will go with thee gladly,\" said Sir Lancelot, and bade his squire\nstraightway saddle his horse and bring his armor.\n\nThen came the queen to him and said, \"Sir Lancelot, will ye leave me\nthus at this high feast?\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the damsel, \"by dinner-time to-morrow he shall be with\nyou.\"\n\n\"If I thought not,\" said the queen, \"he should not go with thee by my\ngoodwill.\"\n\nThen Sir Lancelot and the lady rode forth till they came to the forest,\nand in a valley thereof found an abbey of nuns, whereby a squire stood\nready to open the gates. When they had entered, and descended from their\nhorses, a joyful crowd pressed round Sir Lancelot and heartily saluted\nhim, and led him to the abbess's chamber, and unarmed him. Anon he saw\nhis cousins likewise there, Sir Bors and Sir Lionel, who also made great\njoy at seeing him, and said, \"By what adventure art thou here, for we\nthought to have seen thee at Camelot to-morrow?\"\n\n\"A damsel brought me here,\" said he, \"but as yet I know not for what\nservice.\"\n\nAs they thus talked twelve nuns came in, who brought with them a youth\nso passing fair and well made, that in all the world his match could not\nbe found. His name was Galahad, and though he knew him not, nor Lancelot\nhim, Sir Lancelot was his father.\n\n\"Sir,\" said the nuns, \"we bring thee here this child whom we have\nnourished from his youth, and pray thee to make him a knight, for from\nno worthier hand can he receive that order.\"\n\nThen Sir Lancelot, looking on the youth, saw that he was seemly and\ndemure as a dove, with every feature good and noble, and thought he\nnever had beheld a better fashioned man of his years. \"Cometh this\ndesire from himself?\" said he.\n\n\"Yea,\" answered Galahad and all the nuns.\n\n\"To-morrow, then, in reverence for the feast, he shall have his wish,\"\nsaid Sir Lancelot.\n\nAnd the next day at the hour of prime, he knighted him, and said, \"God\nmake of thee as good a man as He hath made thee beautiful.\"\n\nThen with Sir Lionel and Sir Bors he returned to the court, and found\nall gone to the minster to hear service. When they came into the\nbanquet-hall each knight and baron found his name written in some seat\nin letters of gold, as \"here ought to sit Sir Lionel,\" \"here ought to\nsit Sir Gawain,\"--and so forth. And in the Perilous Seat, at the high\ncenter of the table, a name was also written, whereat they marveled\ngreatly, for no living man had ever yet dared sit upon that seat, save\none, and him a flame leaped forth and drew down under earth, so that he\nwas no more seen.\n\nThen came Sir Lancelot and read the letters in that seat, and said, \"My\ncounsel is that this inscription be now covered up until the knight be\ncome who shall achieve this great adventure.\" So they made a veil of\nsilk and put it over the letters.\n\nIn the meanwhile came Sir Gawain to the court and told the king he had a\nmessage to him from beyond the sea, from Merlin.\n\n\"For,\" said he, \"as I rode through the forest of Broceliande but five\ndays since, I heard the voice of Merlin speaking to me from the midst of\nan oak-tree, whereat, in great amazement, I besought him to come forth.\nBut he, with many groans, replied he never more might do so, for that\nnone could free him, save the damsel of the Lake, who had enclosed him\nthere by his own spells which he had taught her. 'But go,' said he, 'to\nKing Arthur, and tell him, that he now prepare his knights and all his\nTable Round to seek the Sangreal, for the time is come when it shall be\nachieved.'\"\n\nWhen Sir Gawain had spoken thus, King Arthur sat pensive in spirit, and\nmused deeply of the Holy Grail and what saintly knight should come who\nmight achieve it.\n\nAnon he bade them hasten to set on the banquet. \"Sir,\" said Sir Key, the\nseneschal, \"if we go now to meat ye will break the ancient custom of\nyour court, for never have ye dined at this high feast till ye have seen\nsome strange adventure.\"\n\n\"Thou sayest truly,\" said the king, \"but my mind was full of wonders and\nmusings, till I bethought me not of mine old custom.\"\n\nAs they stood speaking thus, a squire ran in and cried, \"Lord, I bring\nthee marvelous tidings.\"\n\n\"What be they?\" said King Arthur.\n\n\"Lord,\" said he, \"hereby at the river is a marvelous great stone, which\nI myself saw swim down hither-wards upon the water, and in it there is\nset a sword, and ever the stone heaveth and swayeth on the water, but\nfloateth down no further with the stream.\"\n\n\"I will go and see it,\" said the king. So all the knights went with him,\nand when they came to the river, there surely found they a mighty stone\nof red marble floating on the water, as the squire had said, and\ntherein stuck a fair and rich sword, on the pommel whereof were precious\nstones wrought skillfully with gold into these words: \"No man shall take\nme hence but he by whose side I should hang, and he shall be the best\nknight in the world.\"\n\nWhen the king read this, he turned round to Sir Lancelot, and said,\n\"Fair sir, this sword ought surely to be thine, for thou art the best\nknight in all the world.\"\n\nBut Lancelot answered soberly, \"Certainly, sir, it is not for me; nor\nwill I have the hardihood to set my hand upon it. For he that toucheth\nit and faileth to achieve it shall one day be wounded by it mortally.\nBut I doubt not, lord, this day will show the greatest marvels that we\nyet have seen, for now the time is fully come, as Merlin hath forewarned\nus, when all the prophecies about the Sangreal shall be fulfilled.\"\n\nThen stepped Sir Gawain forward and pulled at the sword, but could not\nmove it, and after him Sir Percival, to keep him fellowship in any peril\nhe might suffer. But no other knight durst be so hardy as to try.\n\n\"Now may ye go to your dinner,\" said Sir Key, \"for a marvelous adventure\nye have had.\"\n\nSo all returned from the river, and every knight sat down in his own\nplace, and the high feast and banquet then was sumptuously begun, and\nall the hall was full of laughter and loud talk and jests, and running\nto and fro of squires who served their knights, and noise of jollity and\nmirth.\n\nThen suddenly befell a wondrous thing, for all the doors and windows of\nthe hall shut violently of themselves, and made thick darkness; and\npresently there came a fair and gentle light from out the Perilous Seat,\nand filled the palace with its beams. Then a dead silence fell on all\nthe knights, and each man anxiously beheld his neighbor.\n\nBut King Arthur rose and said, \"Lords and fair knights, have ye no fear,\nbut rejoice; we have seen strange things to-day, but stranger yet\nremain. For now I know we shall to-day see him who may sit in the Siege\nPerilous, and shall achieve the Sangreal. For as ye all well know, that\nholy vessel, wherefrom at the Supper of our Lord before His death He\ndrank the wine with His disciples, hath been held ever since the holiest\ntreasure of the world, and wheresoever it hath rested peace and\nprosperity have rested with it on the land. But since the dolorous\nstroke which Balin gave King Pelles none have seen it, for Heaven, wroth\nwith that presumptuous blow, hath hid it none know where. Yet somewhere\nin the world it still may be, and may be it is left to us, and to this\nnoble order of the Table Round, to find and bring it home, and make of\nthis our realm the happiest in the earth. Many great quests and perilous\nadventures have ye all taken and achieved, but this high quest he only\nshall attain who hath clean hands and a pure heart, and valor and\nhardihood beyond all other men.\"\n\nWhile the king spoke there came in softly an old man robed all in white,\nleading with him a young knight clad in red from top to toe, but without\narmor or shield, and having by his side an empty scabbard.\n\nThe old man went up to the king, and said, \"Lord, here I bring thee this\nyoung knight of royal lineage, and of the blood of Joseph of Arimathea,\nby whom the marvels of thy court shall fully be accomplished.\"\n\nThe king was right glad at his words, and said, \"Sir, ye be right\nheartily welcome, and the young knight also.\"\n\nThen the old man put on Sir Galahad (for it was he) a crimson robe\ntrimmed with fine ermine, and took him by the hand and led him to the\nPerilous Seat, and lifting up the silken cloth which hung upon it, read\nthese words written in gold letters, \"This is the seat of Sir Galahad,\nthe good knight.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said the old man, \"this place is thine.\"\n\nThen sat Sir Galahad down firmly and surely, and said to the old man,\n\"Sir, ye may now go your way, for ye have done well and truly all ye\nwere commanded, and commend me to my grandsire, King Pelles, and say\nthat I shall see him soon.\" So the old man departed with a retinue of\ntwenty noble squires.\n\nBut all the knights of the Round Table marveled at Sir Galahad, and at\nhis tender age, and at his sitting there so surely in the Perilous Seat.\n\nThen the king led Sir Galahad forth from the palace, to show him the\nadventure of the floating stone. \"Here,\" said he, \"is as great a marvel\nas I ever saw, and right good knights have tried and failed to gain that\nsword.\"\n\n\"I marvel not thereat,\" said Galahad, \"for this adventure is not theirs,\nbut mine; and for the certainty I had thereof, I brought no sword with\nme, as thou mayst see here by this empty scabbard.\"\n\nAnon he laid his hand upon the sword, and lightly drew it from the\nstone, and put it in his sheath, and said, \"This sword was that\nenchanted one which erst belonged to the good knight, Sir Balin,\nwherewith he slew through piteous mistake his brother Balan; who also\nslew him at the same time: all which great woe befell him through the\ndolorous stroke he gave my grandsire, King Pelles, the wound whereof is\nnot yet whole, nor shall be till I heal him.\"\n\nAs he stood speaking thus, they saw a lady riding swiftly down the\nriver's bank towards them, on a white palfrey, who, saluting the king\nand queen, said, \"Lord king, Nacien the hermit sendeth thee word that to\nthee shall come to-day the greatest honor and worship that hath yet ever\nbefallen a king of Britain; for this day shall the Sangreal appear in\nthy house.\"\n\nWith that the damsel took her leave, and departed the same way she came.\n\n\"Now,\" said the king, \"I know that from to-day the quest of the Sangreal\nshall begin, and all ye of the Round Table will be scattered so that\nnevermore shall I see ye again together as ye are now; let me then see a\njoust and tournament amongst ye for the last time before ye go.\"\n\nSo they all took their harness and met together in the meadows by\nCamelot, and the queen and all her ladies sat in a tower to see.\n\nThen Sir Galahad, at the prayer of the king and queen, put on a coat of\nlight armor, and a helmet, but shield he would take none, and grasping a\nlance, he drove into the middle of the press of knights, and began to\nbreak spears marvelously, so that all men were full of wonder. And in so\nshort a time he had surmounted and exceeded the rest, save Sir Lancelot\nand Sir Percival, that he took the chief worship of the field.\n\nThen the king and all the court and fellowship of knights went back to\nthe palace, and so to evensong in the great minster, a royal and goodly\ncompany, and after that sat down to supper in the hall, every knight in\nhis own seat, as they had been before.\n\nAnon suddenly burst overhead the cracking and crying of great peals of\nthunder, till the palace walls were shaken sorely, and they thought to\nsee them riven all to pieces.\n\nAnd in the midst of the blast there entered in a sunbeam, clearer by\nseven times than ever they saw day, and a marvelous great glory fell\nupon them all. Then each knight, looking on his neighbor, found his face\nfairer than he had ever seen, and so--all standing on their feet--they\ngazed as dumb men on each other, not knowing what to say.\n\nThen entered into the hall the Sangreal, borne aloft without hands\nthrough the midst of the sunbeam, and covered with white samite, so that\nnone might see it. And all the hall was filled with perfume and incense,\nand every knight was fed with the food he best loved. And when the holy\nvessel had been thus borne through the hall, it suddenly departed, no\nman saw whither.\n\nWhen they recovered breath to speak, King Arthur first rose up, and\nyielded thanks to God and to our Lord.\n\nThen Sir Gawain sprang up and said, \"Now have we all been fed by miracle\nwith whatsoever food we thought of or desired; but with our eyes we have\nnot seen the blessed vessel whence it came, so carefully and preciously\nit was concealed. Therefore, I make a vow, that from to-morrow I shall\nlabor twelve months and a day in quest of the Sangreal, and longer if\nneed be; nor will I come again into this court until mine eyes have seen\nit evidently.\"\n\nWhen he had spoken thus, knight after knight rose up and vowed himself\nto the same quest, till the most part of the Round Table had thus sworn.\n\nBut when King Arthur heard them all, he could not refrain his eyes from\ntears, and said, \"Sir Gawain, Sir Gawain, thou hast set me in great\nsorrow, for I fear me my true fellowship shall never meet together here\nagain; and surely never Christian king had such a company of worthy\nknights around his table at one time.\"\n\nAnd when the queen and her ladies and gentlewomen heard the vows, they\nhad such grief and sorrow as no tongue could tell; and Queen Guinevere\ncried out, \"I marvel that my lord will suffer them to depart from him.\"\nAnd many of the ladies who loved knights would have gone with them, but\nwere forbidden by the hermit Nacien, who sent this message to all who\nhad sworn themselves to the quest: \"Take with ye no lady nor\ngentlewoman, for into so high a service as ye go in, no thought but of\nour Lord and heaven may enter.\"\n\nOn the morrow morning all the knights rose early, and when they were\nfully armed, save shields and helms, they went in with the king and\nqueen to service in the minster. Then the king counted all who had taken\nthe adventure on themselves, and found them a hundred and fifty knights\nof the Round Table; and so they all put on their helms, and rode away\ntogether in the midst of cries and lamentations from the court, and from\nthe ladies, and from all the town.\n\nBut the queen went alone to her chamber, that no man might see her\nsorrow; and Sir Lancelot followed her to say farewell.\n\nWhen she saw him she cried out, \"Oh, Sir Lancelot, thou hast betrayed\nme; thou hast put me to death thus to depart and leave my lord the\nking.\"\n\n\"Ah, madam,\" said he, \"be not displeased or angry, for I shall come\nagain as soon as I can with honor.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said she, \"that ever I saw thee; but He that suffered death upon\nthe cross for all mankind be to thee safety and good conduct, and to all\nthy company.\"\n\nThen Sir Lancelot saluted her and the king, and went forth with the\nrest, and came with them that night to Castle Vagon, where they abode,\nand on the morrow they departed from each other on their separate ways,\nevery knight taking the way that pleased him best.\n\nNow Sir Galahad went forth without a shield, and rode so four days\nwithout adventure; and on the fourth day, after evensong, he came to an\nabbey of white monks, where he was received in the house, and led into a\nchamber. And there he was unarmed, and met two knights of the Round\nTable, King Bagdemagus, and Sir Uwaine.\n\n\"Sirs,\" said Sir Galahad, \"what adventure hath brought ye here?\"\n\n\"Within this place, as we are told,\" they answered, \"there is a shield\nno man may bear around his neck without receiving sore mischance, or\ndeath within three days.\"\n\n\"To-morrow,\" said King Bagdemagus, \"I shall attempt the adventure; and\nif I fail, do thou, Sir Galahad, take it up after me.\"\n\n\"I will willingly,\" said he; \"for as ye see I have no shield as yet.\"\n\nSo on the morrow they arose and heard mass, and afterwards King\nBagdemagus asked where the shield was kept. Then a monk led him behind\nthe altar, where the shield hung, as white as any snow, and with a\nblood-red cross in the midst of it.\n\n\"Sir,\" said the monk, \"this shield should hang from no knight's neck\nunless he be the worthiest in the world. I warn ye, therefore, knights;\nconsider well before ye dare to touch it.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said King Bagdemagus, \"I know well that I am far from the best\nknight in all the world, yet shall I make the trial\"; and so he took the\nshield, and bore it from the monastery.\n\n\"If it please thee,\" said he to Sir Galahad, \"abide here till thou\nhearest how I speed.\"\n\n\"I will abide thee,\" said he.\n\nThen taking with him a squire who might return with any tidings to Sir\nGalahad, the king rode forth; and before he had gone two miles, he saw\nin a fair valley a hermitage, and a knight who came forth dressed in\nwhite armor, horse and all, who rode fast against him. When they\nencountered, Bagdemagus brake his spear upon the White Knight's shield,\nbut was himself struck through the shoulder with a sore wound, and\nhurled down from his horse. Then the White Knight alighting, came and\ntook the white shield from the king, and said, \"Thou hast done great\nfolly, for this shield ought never to be borne but by one who hath no\nliving peer.\" And turning to the squire, he said, \"Bear thou this shield\nto the good knight, Sir Galahad, and greet him well from me.\"\n\n\"In whose name shall I greet him?\" said the squire.\n\n\"Take thou no heed of that,\" he answered; \"it is not for thee or any\nearthly man to know.\"\n\n\"Now tell me, fair sir, at the least,\" said the squire, \"why may this\nshield be never borne except its wearer come to injury or death?\"\n\n\"Because it shall belong to no man save its rightful owner, Galahad,\"\nreplied the knight.\n\nThen the squire went to his master, and found him wounded nigh to\ndeath, wherefore he fetched his horse, and bore him back with him to the\nabbey. And there they laid him in a bed, and looked to his wounds; and\nwhen he had lain many days grievously sick, he at the last barely\nescaped with his life.\n\n\"Sir Galahad,\" said the squire, \"the knight who overthrew King\nBagdemagus sent you greeting, and bade you bear this shield.\"\n\n\"Now blessed be God and fortune,\" said Sir Galahad, and hung the shield\nabout his neck, and armed him, and rode forth.\n\nAnon he met the White Knight by the hermitage, and each saluted\ncourteously the other.\n\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Galahad, \"this shield I bear hath surely a full\nmarvelous history.\"\n\n\"Thou sayest rightly,\" answered he. \"That shield was made in the days of\nJoseph of Arimathea, the gentle knight who took our Lord down from the\ncross. He, when he left Jerusalem with his kindred, came to the country\nof King Evelake, who warred continually with one Tollome; and when, by\nthe teaching of Joseph, King Evelake became a Christian, this shield was\nmade for him in our Lord's name; and through its aid King Tollome was\ndefeated. For when King Evelake met him next in battle, he hid it in a\nveil, and suddenly uncovering it, he showed his enemies the figure of a\nbleeding man nailed to a cross, at sight of which they were discomfited\nand fled. Presently after that, a man whose hand was smitten off touched\nthe cross upon the shield, and had his hand restored to him; and many\nother miracles it worked. But suddenly the cross that was upon it\nvanished away. Anon both Joseph and King Evelake came to Britain, and by\nthe preaching of Joseph the people were made Christians. And when at\nlength he lay upon his death-bed, King Evelake begged of him some token\nere he died. Then, calling for his shield, he dipped his finger in his\nown blood, for he was bleeding fast, and none could staunch the wound,\nand marked that cross upon it, saying, 'This cross shall ever show as\nbright as now, and the last of my lineage shall wear this shield about\nhis neck, and go forth to all the marvelous deeds he will achieve.'\"\n\nWhen the White Knight had thus spoken he vanished suddenly away, and Sir\nGalahad returned to the abbey.\n\nAs he alighted, came a monk, and prayed him to go see a tomb in the\nchurchyard, wherefrom came such a great and hideous noise, that none\ncould hear it but they went nigh mad, or lost all strength. \"And, sir,\"\nsaid he, \"I deem it is a fiend.\"\n\n\"Lead me thither,\" said Sir Galahad.\n\nWhen they were come near the place, \"Now,\" said the monk, \"go thou to\nthe tomb, and lift it up.\"\n\nAnd Galahad, nothing afraid, quickly lifted up the stone, and forthwith\ncame out a foul smoke, and from the midst thereof leaped up the\nloathliest figure that ever he had seen in the likeness of man; and\nGalahad blessed himself, for he knew it was a fiend of hell. Then he\nheard a voice crying out, \"Oh, Galahad, I cannot tear thee as I would; I\nsee so many angels round thee, that I may not come at thee.\"\n\nThen the fiend suddenly disappeared with a marvelous great cry; and Sir\nGalahad, looking in the tomb, saw there a body all armed, with a sword\nbeside it. \"Now, fair brother,\" said he to the monk, \"let us remove this\ncursed body, which is not fit to lie in a churchyard, for when it lived,\na false and perjured Christian man dwelt in it. Cast it away, and there\nshall come no more hideous noises from the tomb.\"\n\n\"And now must I depart,\" he added, \"for I have much in hand, and am upon\nthe holy quest of the Sangreal, with many more good knights.\"\n\nSo he took his leave, and rode many journeys backwards and forwards as\nadventure would lead him; and at last one day he departed from a castle\nwithout first hearing mass, which was it ever his custom to hear before\nhe left his lodging. Anon he found a ruined chapel on a mountain, and\nwent in and kneeled before the altar, and prayed for wholesome counsel\nwhat to do; and as he prayed he heard a voice, which said, \"Depart,\nadventurous knight, unto the Maiden's Castle, and redress the violence\nand wrongs there done!\"\n\nHearing these words he cheerfully arose, and mounted his horse, and rode\nbut half a mile, when he saw before him a strong castle, with deep\nditches round it, and a fair river running past. And seeing an old churl\nhard by, he asked him what men called that castle.\n\n\"Fair sir,\" said he, \"it is the Maiden's Castle.\"\n\n\"It is a cursed place,\" said Galahad, \"and all its masters are but\nfelons, full of mischief and hardness and shame.\"\n\n\"For that good reason,\" said the old man, \"thou wert well-advised to\nturn thee back.\"\n\n\"For that same reason,\" quoth Sir Galahad, \"will I the more certainly\nride on.\"\n\nThen, looking at his armor carefully, to see that nothing failed him, he\nwent forward, and presently there met him seven damsels, who cried out,\n\"Sir knight, thou ridest in great peril, for thou hast two waters to\npass over.\"\n\n\"Why should I not pass over them?\" said he, and rode straight on.\n\nAnon he met a squire, who said, \"Sir knight, the masters of this castle\ndefy thee, and bid thee go no further, till thou showest them thy\nbusiness here.\"\n\n\"Fair fellow,\" said Sir Galahad, \"I am come here to destroy their wicked\ncustoms.\"\n\n\"If that be thy purpose,\" answered he, \"thou wilt have much to do.\"\n\n\"Go thou,\" said Galahad, \"and hasten with my message.\"\n\nIn a few minutes after rode forth furiously from the gateways of the\ncastle seven knights, all brothers, and crying out, \"Knight, keep thee,\"\nbore down all at once upon Sir Galahad. But thrusting forth his spear,\nhe smote the foremost to the earth, so that his neck was almost broken,\nand warded with his shield the spears of all the others, which every one\nbrake off from it, and shivered into pieces. Then he drew out his sword,\nand set upon them hard and fiercely, and by his wondrous force drave\nthem before him, and chased them to the castle gate, and there he slew\nthem.\n\nAt that came out to him an ancient man, in priest's vestments, saying,\n\"Behold, sir, here, the keys of this castle.\"\n\nThen he unlocked the gates, and found within a multitude of people, who\ncried out, \"Sir knight, ye be welcome, for long have we waited thy\ndeliverance,\" and told him that the seven felons he had slain had long\nenslaved the people round about, and killed all knights who passed that\nway, because the maiden whom they had robbed of the castle had foretold\nthat by one knight they should themselves be overthrown.\n\n\"Where is the maiden?\" asked Sir Galahad.\n\n\"She lingereth below in a dungeon,\" said they.\n\nSo Sir Galahad went down and released her, and restored her her\ninheritance; and when he had summoned the barons of the country to do\nher homage, he took his leave, and departed.\n\nPresently thereafter, as he rode, he entered a great forest, and in a\nglade thereof met two knights, disguised, who proffered him to joust.\nThese were Sir Lancelot, his father, and Sir Percival, but neither knew\nthe other. So he and Sir Lancelot encountered first, and Sir Galahad\nsmote down his father. Then drawing his sword, for his spear was broken,\nhe fought with Sir Percival, and struck so mightily that he clave Sir\nPercival's helm, and smote him from his horse.\n\nNow hard by where they fought there was a hermitage, where dwelt a pious\nwoman, a recluse, who, when she heard the sound, came forth, and seeing\nSir Galahad ride, she cried, \"God be with thee, the best knight in the\nworld; had yonder knights known thee as well as I do, they would not\nhave encountered with thee.\"\n\nWhen Sir Galahad heard that, fearing to be made known, he forthwith\nsmote his horse with his spurs, and departed at a great pace.\n\nSir Lancelot and Sir Percival heard her words also, and rode fast after\nhim, but within a while he was out of their sight. Then Sir Percival\nrode back to ask his name of the recluse; but Sir Lancelot went forward\non his quest, and following any path his horse would take, he came\nby-and-by after nightfall to a stone cross hard by an ancient chapel.\nWhen he had alighted and tied his horse up to a tree, he went and looked\nin through the chapel door, which was all ruinous and wasted, and there\nwithin he saw an altar, richly decked with silk, whereon there stood a\nfair candlestick of silver, bearing six great lights. And when Sir\nLancelot saw the light, he tried to get within the chapel, but could\nfind no place. So, being passing weary and heavy, he came again to his\nhorse, and when he had unsaddled him, and set him free to pasture, he\nunlaced his helm, and ungirded his sword, and laid him down to sleep\nupon his shield before the cross.\n\nAnd while he lay between waking and sleeping, he saw come by him two\nwhite palfreys bearing a litter, wherein a sick knight lay, and the\npalfreys stood still by the cross. Then Sir Lancelot heard the sick man\nsay, \"O sweet Lord, when shall this sorrow leave me, and the holy\nvessel pass by me, wherethrough I shall be blessed? for I have long\nendured.\"\n\nWith that Sir Lancelot saw the chapel open, and the candlestick with the\nsix tapers come before the cross, but he could see none who bare it.\nThen came there also a table of silver, and thereon the holy vessel of\nthe Sangreal. And when the sick knight saw that, he sat up, and lifting\nboth his hands, said, \"Fair Lord, sweet Lord, who art here within this\nholy vessel, have mercy on me, that I may be whole\"; and therewith he\ncrept upon his hands and knees so nigh, that he might touch the vessel;\nand when he had kissed it, he leaped up, and stood and cried aloud,\n\"Lord God, I thank Thee, for I am made whole.\" Then the Holy Grail\ndeparted with the table and the silver candlestick into the chapel, so\nthat Sir Lancelot saw it no more, nor for his sins' sake could he follow\nit. And the knight who was healed went on his way.\n\nThen Sir Lancelot awake, and marveled whether he had seen aught but a\ndream. And as he marveled, he heard a voice saying, \"Sir Lancelot, thou\nart unworthy, go thou hence, and withdraw thee from this holy place.\"\nAnd when he heard that, he was passing heavy, for he bethought him of\nhis sins.\n\nSo he departed weeping, and cursed the day of his birth, for the words\nwent into his heart, and he knew wherefore he was thus driven forth.\nThen he went to seek his arms and horse, but could not find them; and\nthen he called himself the wretchedest and most unhappy of all knights,\nand said, \"My sin hath brought me unto great dishonor: for when I\nsought earthly honors, I achieved them ever; but now I take upon me holy\nthings, my guilt doth hinder me, and shameth me; therefore had I no\npower to stir or speak when the holy blood appeared before me.\"\n\nSo thus he sorrowed till it was day, and he heard the birds sing; then\nwas he somewhat comforted, and departing from the cross on foot, he came\ninto a wild forest, and to a high mountain, and there he found a\nhermitage; and, kneeling before the hermit down upon both his knees, he\ncried for mercy for his wicked works, and prayed him to hear his\nconfession. But when he told his name, the hermit marveled to see him in\nso sore a case, and said, \"Sir, ye ought to thank God more than any\nknight living, for He hath given thee more honor than any; yet for thy\npresumption, while in deadly sin to come into the presence of His flesh\nand blood, He suffered thee neither to see nor follow it. Wherefore,\nbelieve that all thy strength and manhood will avail thee little, when\nGod is against thee.\"\n\nThen Sir Lancelot wept and said, \"Now know I well ye tell me truth.\"\n\nThen he confessed to him, and told him all his sins, and how he had for\nfourteen years served but Queen Guinevere only, and forgotten God, and\ndone great deeds of arms for her, and not for Heaven, and had little or\nnothing thanked God for the honor that he won. And then Sir Lancelot\nsaid, \"I pray you counsel me.\"\n\n\"I will counsel thee,\" said he: \"never more enter into that queen's\ncompany when ye can avoid it.\"\n\nSo Sir Lancelot promised him.\n\n\"Look that your heart and your mouth accord,\" said the good man, \"and ye\nshall have more honor and more nobleness than ever ye have had.\"\n\nThen were his arms and horse restored to him, and so he took his leave,\nand rode forth, repenting greatly.\n\nNow Sir Percival had ridden back to the recluse, to learn who that\nknight was whom she had called the best in the world. And when he had\ntold her that he was Sir Percival, she made passing great joy of him,\nfor she was his mother's sister, wherefore she opened her door to him,\nand made him good cheer. And on the morrow she told him of her kindred\nto him, and they both made great rejoicing. Then he asked her who that\nknight was, and she told him, \"He it is who on Whit Sunday last was clad\nin the red robe, and bare the red arms; and he hath no peer, for he\nworketh all by miracle, and shall be never overcome by any earthly\nhands.\"\n\n\"By my goodwill,\" said Sir Percival, \"I will never after these tidings\nhave to do with Sir Galahad but in the way of kindness; and I would fain\nlearn where I may find him.\"\n\n\"Fair nephew,\" said she, \"ye must ride to the Castle of Goth, where he\nhath a cousin; by him ye may be lodged, and he will teach you the way to\ngo; but if he can tell you no tidings, ride straight to the Castle of\nCarbonek, where the wounded king is lying, for there shall ye surely\nhear true tidings of him.\"\n\nSo Sir Percival departed from his aunt, and rode till evensong time,\nwhen he was ware of a monastery closed round with walls and deep\nditches, where he knocked at the gate, and anon was let in. And there he\nhad good cheer that night, and on the morrow heard mass. And beside the\naltar where the priest stood, was a rich bed of silk and cloth of gold;\nand on the bed there lay a man passing old, having a crown of gold upon\nhis head, and all his body was full of great wounds, and his eyes almost\nwholly blind; and ever he held up his hands and said, \"Sweet Lord,\nforget not me!\"\n\nThen Sir Percival asked one of the brethren who he was.\n\n\"Sir,\" said the good man, \"ye have heard of Joseph of Arimathea, how he\nwas sent of Jesus Christ into this land to preach and teach the\nChristian faith. Now, in the city of Sarras he converted a king named\nEvelake, and this is he. He came with Joseph to this land, and ever\ndesired greatly to see the Sangreal; so on a time he came nigh thereto,\nand was struck almost blind. Then he cried out for mercy, and said,\n'Fair Lord, I pray thee let me never die until a good knight of my blood\nachieve the Sangreal, and I may see and kiss him.' When he had thus\nprayed, he heard a voice that said, 'Thy prayers be heard and answered,\nfor thou shalt not die till that knight kiss thee; and when he cometh\nshall thine eyes be opened and thy wounds be healed.' And now hath he\nlived here for three hundred winters in a holy life, and men say a\ncertain knight of King Arthur's court shall shortly heal him.\"\n\nThereat Sir Percival marveled greatly, for he well knew who that knight\nshould be; and so, taking his leave of the monk, departed.\n\nThen he rode on till noon, and came into a valley where he met twenty\nmen-at-arms bearing a dead knight on a bier. And they cried to him,\n\"Whence comest thou?\"\n\n\"From King Arthur's court,\" he answered.\n\nThen they all cried together, \"Slay him,\" and set upon him.\n\nBut he smote down the first man to the ground, and his horse upon him;\nwhereat seven of them all at once assailed him, and others slew his\nhorse. Thus he had been either taken or slain, but by good chance Sir\nGalahad was passing by that way, who, seeing twenty men attacking one,\ncried, \"Slay him not,\" and rushed upon them; and, as fast as his horse\ncould drive, he encountered with the foremost man, and smote him down.\nThen, his spear being broken, he drew forth his sword and struck out on\nthe right hand and on the left, at each blow smiting down a man, till\nthe remainder fled, and he pursued them.\n\nThen Sir Percival, knowing that it was Sir Galahad, would fain have\novertaken him, but could not, for his horse was slain. Yet followed he\non foot as fast as he could go; and as he went there met him a yeoman\nriding on a palfrey, and leading in his hand a great black steed. So Sir\nPercival prayed him to lend him the steed, that he might overtake Sir\nGalahad. But he replied, \"That can I not do, fair sir, for the horse is\nmy master's, and should I lend it he would slay me.\" So he departed, and\nSir Percival sat down beneath a tree in heaviness of heart. And as he\nsat, anon a knight went riding past on the black steed which the yeoman\nhad led. And presently after came the yeoman back in haste, and asked\nSir Percival if he had seen a knight riding his horse.\n\n\"Yea,\" said Sir Percival.\n\n\"Alas,\" said the yeoman, \"he hath reft him from me by strength, and my\nmaster will slay me.\"\n\nThen he besought Sir Percival to take his hackney and follow, and get\nback his steed. So he rode quickly, and overtook the knight, and cried,\n\"Knight, turn again.\" Whereat he turned and set his spear, and smote Sir\nPercival's hackney in the breast, so that it fell dead, and then went on\nhis way. Then cried Sir Percival after him, \"Turn now, false knight, and\nfight with me on foot\"; but he would not, and rode out of sight.\n\nThen was Sir Percival passing wroth and heavy of heart, and lay down to\nrest beneath a tree, and slept till midnight. When he awoke he saw a\nwoman standing by him, who said to him right fiercely, \"Sir Percival,\nwhat doest thou here?\"\n\n\"I do neither good nor evil,\" said he.\n\n\"If thou wilt promise me,\" said she, \"to do my will whenever I shall ask\nthee, I will bring thee here a horse that will bear thee wheresoever\nthou desirest.\"\n\nAt that he was full glad, and promised as she asked. Then anon she came\nagain, with a great black steed, strong and well appareled. So Sir\nPercival mounted, and rode through the clear moonlight, and within less\nthan an hour had gone a four days' journey, till he came to a rough\nwater that roared; and his horse would have borne him into it, but Sir\nPercival would not suffer him, yet could he scarce restrain him. And\nseeing the water so furious, he made the sign of the cross upon his\nforehead, whereat the horse suddenly shook him off, and with a terrible\nsound leaped into the water and disappeared, the waves all burning up in\nflames around him. Then Sir Percival knew it was a fiend which had\nbrought him the horse; so he commended himself to God, and prayed that\nhe might escape temptations, and continued in prayer till it was day.\n\nThen he saw that he was on a wild mountain, nigh surrounded on all sides\nby the sea, and filled with wild beasts; and going on into a valley, he\nsaw a serpent carrying a young lion by the neck. With that came another\nlion, crying and roaring after the serpent, and anon overtook him, and\nbegan to battle with him. And Sir Percival helped the lion, and drew his\nsword, and gave the serpent such a stroke that it fell dead. Thereat the\nlion fawned upon him like a dog, licking his hands, and crouching at his\nfeet, and at night lay down by him and slept at his side.\n\nAnd at noon the next day Sir Percival saw a ship come sailing before a\nstrong wind upon the sea towards him, and he rose and went towards it.\nAnd when it came to shore, he found it covered with white samite, and on\nthe deck there stood an old man dressed in priest's robes, who said,\n\"God be with you, fair sir; whence come ye?\"\n\n\"I am a knight of King Arthur's court,\" said he, \"and follow the quest\nof the Sangreal; but here have I lost myself in this wilderness.\"\n\n\"Fear nothing,\" said the old man, \"for I have come from a strange\ncountry to comfort thee.\"\n\nThen he told Sir Percival it was a fiend of hell upon which he had\nridden to the sea, and that the lion, whom he had delivered from the\nserpent, meant the Church. And Sir Percival rejoiced at these tidings,\nand entered into the ship, which presently sailed from the shore into\nthe sea.\n\nNow when Sir Bors rode forth from Camelot to seek the Sangreal, anon he\nmet a holy man riding on an ass, and courteously saluted him.\n\n\"Who are ye, son?\" said the good man.\n\n\"I am a knight,\" said he, \"in quest of the Sangreal, and would fain have\nthy counsel, for he shall have much earthly honor who may bring it to a\nfavorable end.\"\n\n\"That is truth,\" said the good man, \"for he shall be the best knight of\nthe world; yet know that none shall gain it save by sinless living.\"\n\nSo they rode to his hermitage together, and there he prayed Sir Bors to\nabide that night, and anon they went into the chapel, and Sir Bors was\nconfessed. And they eat bread and drank water together.\n\n\"Now,\" said the hermit, \"I pray thee eat no other food till thou sit at\nthe table where the Sangreal shall be.\" Thereto Sir Bors agreed.\n\n\"Also,\" said the hermit, \"it were wise that ye should wear a sackcloth\ngarment next your skin, for penance\"; and in this also did Sir Bors as\nhe was counseled. And afterwards he armed himself and took his leave.\n\nThen rode he onwards all that day, and as he rode he saw a passing great\nbird sit in an old dry tree, whereon no leaves were left; and many\nlittle birds lay round the great one, nigh dead with hunger. Then did\nthe big bird smite himself with his own bill, and bled till he died\namongst his little ones, and they recovered life in drinking up his\nblood. When Sir Bors saw this he knew it was a token, and rode on full\nof thought. And about eventide he came to a tower, whereto he prayed\nadmission, and he was received gladly by the lady of the castle. But\nwhen a supper of many meats and dainties was set before him, he\nremembered his vow, and bade a squire to bring him water, and therein he\ndipped his bread, and ate.\n\nThen said the lady, \"Sir Bors, I fear ye like not my meat.\"\n\n\"Yea, truly,\" said he; \"God thank thee, madam; but I may eat no other\nmeat this day.\"\n\nAfter supper came a squire, and said, \"Madam, bethink thee to provide a\nchampion for thee to-morrow for the tourney, or else shall thy sister\nhave thy castle.\"\n\nAt that the lady wept, and made great sorrow. But Sir Bors prayed her to\nbe comforted, and asked her why the tournament was held. Then she told\nhim how she and her sister were the daughters of King Anianse, who left\nthem all his lands between them; and how her sister was the wife of a\nstrong knight, named Sir Pridan le Noir, who had taken from herself all\nher lands, save the one tower wherein she dwelt. \"And now,\" said she,\n\"this also will they take, unless I find a champion by to-morrow.\"\n\nThen said Sir Bors, \"Be comforted; to-morrow I will fight for thee\";\nwhereat she rejoiced not a little, and sent word to Sir Pridan that she\nwas provided and ready. And Sir Bors lay on the floor, and in no bed,\nnor ever would do otherwise till he had achieved his quest.\n\nOn the morrow he arose and clothed himself, and went into the chapel,\nwhere the lady met him, and they heard mass together. Anon he called for\nhis armor, and went with a goodly company of knights to the battle. And\nthe lady prayed him to refresh himself ere he should fight, but he\nrefused to break his fast until the tournament were done. So they all\nrode together to the lists, and there they saw the lady's eldest sister,\nand her husband, Sir Pridan le Noir. And a cry was made by the heralds\nthat, whichever should win, his lady should have all the other's lands.\n\nThen the two knights departed asunder a little space, and came together\nwith such force, that both their spears were shivered, and their shields\nand hauberks pierced through; and both fell to the ground sorely\nwounded, with their horses under them. But swiftly they arose, and drew\ntheir swords, and smote each other on the head with many great and\nheavy blows, till the blood ran down their bodies; and Sir Pridan was a\nfull good knight, so that Sir Bors had more ado than he had thought for\nto overcome him.\n\nBut at last Sir Pridan grew a little faint; that instantly perceived Sir\nBors, and rushed upon him the more vehemently, and smote him fiercely,\ntill he rent off his helm, and then gave him great strokes upon his\nvisage with the flat of his sword, and bade him yield or be slain.\n\nAnd then Sir Pridan cried him mercy, and said, \"For God's sake slay me\nnot, and I will never war against thy lady more.\" So Sir Bors let him\ngo, and his wife fled away with all her knights.\n\nThen all those who had held lands of the lady of the tower came and did\nhomage to her again, and swore fealty. And when the country was at peace\nSir Bors departed, and rode forth into a forest until it was midday, and\nthere befell him a marvelous adventure.\n\nFor at a place where two ways parted, there met him two knights, bearing\nSir Lionel, his brother, all naked, bound on a horse, and as they rode,\nthey beat him sorely with thorns, so that the blood trailed down in more\nthan a hundred places from his body; but for all this he uttered no word\nor groan, so great he was of heart. As soon as Sir Bors knew his\nbrother, he put his spear in rest to run and rescue him; but in the same\nmoment heard a woman's voice cry close beside him in the wood, \"St.\nMary, succor thy maid\"; and, looking round, he saw a damsel whom a felon\nknight dragged after him into the thickets; and she, perceiving him,\ncried piteously for help, and adjured him to deliver her as he was a\nsworn knight. Then was Sir Bors sore troubled, and knew not what to do,\nfor he thought within himself, \"If I let my brother be, he will be\nmurdered; but if I help not the maid, she is shamed forever, and my vow\ncompelleth me to set her free; wherefore must I first help her, and\ntrust my brother unto God.\"\n\nSo, riding to the knight who held the damsel, he cried out, \"Sir knight,\nlay your hand off that maid, or else ye be but dead.\"\n\nAt that the knight set down the maid, and dropped his shield, and drew\nforth his sword against Sir Bors, who ran at him, and smote him through\nboth shield and shoulder, and threw him to the earth; and when he pulled\nhis spear forth, the knight swooned. Then the maid thanked Sir Bors\nheartily, and he set her on the knight's horse, and brought her to her\nmen-at-arms, who presently came riding after her. And they made much\njoy, and besought him to come to her father, a great lord, and he should\nbe right welcome. But \"truly,\" said he, \"I may not at this time, for I\nhave a great adventure yet to do\"; and commending them to God, he\ndeparted in great haste to find his brother.\n\nSo he rode, seeking him by the track of the horses a great while. Anon\nhe met a seeming holy man riding upon a strong black horse, and asked\nhim, had he seen pass by that way a knight led bound and beaten with\nthorns by two others.\n\n\"Yea, truly, such an one I saw,\" said the man; \"but he is dead, and lo!\nhis body is hard by in a bush.\"\n\nThen he showed him a newly slain body lying in a thick bush, which\nseemed indeed to be Sir Lionel. Then made Sir Bors such mourning and\nsorrow that by-and-by he fell into a swoon upon the ground. And when he\ncame to himself again, he took the body in his arms and put it on his\nhorse's saddle, and bore it to a chapel hard by, and would have buried\nit. But when he made the sign of the cross, he heard a full great noise\nand cry as though all the fiends of hell had been about him, and\nsuddenly the body and the chapel and the old man vanished all away. Then\nhe knew that it was the devil who had thus beguiled him, and that his\nbrother yet lived.\n\nThen held he up his hands to heaven, and thanked God for his own escape\nfrom hurt, and rode onwards; and anon, as he passed by an hermitage in a\nforest, he saw his brother sitting armed by the door. And when he saw\nhim he was filled with joy, and lighted from his horse, and ran to him\nand said, \"Fair brother, when came ye hither?\"\n\nBut Sir Lionel answered, with an angry face, \"What vain words be these,\nwhen for you I might have been slain? Did ye not see me bound and led\naway to death, and left me in that peril to go succoring a gentlewoman,\nthe like whereof no brother ever yet hath done? Now, for thy false\nmisdeed, I do defy thee, and ensure thee speedy death.\"\n\nThen Sir Bors prayed his brother to abate his anger, and said, \"Fair\nbrother, remember the love that should be between us twain.\"\n\nBut Sir Lionel would not hear, and prepared to fight, and mounted his\nhorse and came before him, crying, \"Sir Bors, keep thee from me, for I\nshall do to thee as a felon and a traitor; therefore, start upon thy\nhorse, for if thou wilt not, I will run upon thee as thou standest.\"\n\nBut for all his words Sir Bors would not defend himself against his\nbrother. And anon the fiend stirred up Sir Lionel to such rage, that he\nrushed over him and overthrew him with his horse's hoofs, so that he lay\nswooning on the ground. Then would he have rent off his helm and slain\nhim, but the hermit of that place ran out, and prayed him to forbear,\nand shielded Sir Bors with his body.\n\nThen Sir Lionel cried out, \"Now, God so help me, sir priest, but I shall\nslay thee else thou depart, and him too after thee.\"\n\nAnd when the good man utterly refused to leave Sir Bors, he smote him on\nthe head until he died, and then he took his brother by the helm and\nunlaced it, to have stricken off his head, and so he would have done,\nbut suddenly was pulled off backwards by a knight of the Round Table,\nwho, by the will of Heaven, was passing by that place--Sir Colgrevance\nby name.\n\n\"Sir Lionel,\" he cried, \"will ye slay your brother, one of the best\nknights of all the world? That ought no man to suffer.\"\n\n\"Why,\" said Sir Lionel, \"will ye hinder me and meddle in this strife?\nbeware, lest I shall slay both thee and him.\"\n\nAnd when Sir Colgrevance refused to let them be, Sir Lionel defied him,\nand gave him a great stroke through the helmet, whereat Sir Colgrevance\ndrew his sword, and smote again right manfully. And so long they fought\ntogether that Sir Bors awoke from his swoon, and tried to rise and part\nthem, but had no strength to stand upon his feet.\n\nAnon Sir Colgrevance saw him, and cried out to him for help, for now Sir\nLionel had nigh defeated him. When Sir Bors heard that, he struggled to\nhis feet, and put his helmet on, and took his sword. But before he could\ncome to him, Sir Lionel had smitten off Sir Colgrevance's helm, and\nthrown him to the earth and slain him. Then turned he to his brother as\na man possessed by fiends, and gave him such a stroke as bent him nearly\ndouble.\n\nBut Sir Bors prayed him for God's sake to quit that battle, \"For if it\nbefell us that we either slew the other we should die for care of that\nsin.\"\n\n\"Never will I spare thee if I master thee,\" cried out Sir Lionel.\n\nThen Sir Bors drew his sword all weeping, and said, \"Now, God have mercy\non me, though I defend my life against my brother\"; with that he lifted\nup his sword to strike, but suddenly he heard a mighty voice, \"Put up\nthy sword, Sir Bors, and flee, or thou shalt surely slay him.\" And then\nthere fell upon them both a fiery cloud, which flamed and burned their\nshields, and they fell to the earth in sore dread.\n\nAnon Sir Bors rose to his feet, and saw that Sir Lionel had taken no\nharm. Then came the voice again, and said, \"Sir Bors, go hence and leave\nthy brother, and ride thou forward to the sea, for there Sir Percival\nabideth thee.\"\n\nThen he said to his brother, \"Brother, forgive me all my trespass\nagainst thee.\"\n\nAnd Sir Lionel answered, \"God forgive it thee, as I do.\"\n\nThen he departed and rode to the sea, and on the strand he found a ship\nall covered with white samite, and as soon as he had entered thereinto,\nit put forth from the shore. And in the midst of the ship there stood an\narmed knight, whom he knew to be Sir Percival. Then they rejoiced\ngreatly over each other, and said, \"We lack nothing now but the good\nknight Sir Galahad.\"\n\nNow when Sir Galahad had rescued Sir Percival from the twenty knights he\nrode into a vast forest. And after many days it befell that he came to a\ncastle whereat was a tournament. And the knights of the castle were put\nto the worse; which when he saw, he set his spear in rest and ran to\nhelp them, and smote down many of their adversaries. And as it chanced,\nSir Gawain was amongst the stranger knights, and when he saw the white\nshield with the red cross, he knew it was Sir Galahad, and proffered to\njoust with him. So they encountered, and having broken their spears,\nthey drew their swords, and Sir Galahad smote Sir Gawain so sorely on\nthe helm that he clove it through, and struck on slanting to the earth,\ncarving the horse's shoulder in twain, and Sir Gawain fell to the earth.\nThen Sir Galahad beat back all who warred against the castle, yet would\nhe not wait for thanks, but rode away that no man might know him.\n\nAnd he rested that night at a hermitage, and when he was asleep, he\nheard a knocking at the door. So he rose, and found a damsel there, who\nsaid, \"Sir Galahad, I will that ye arm you, and mount upon your horse\nand follow me, for I will show you within these three days the highest\nadventure that ever any knight saw.\"\n\nAnon Sir Galahad armed him, and took his horse, and commended himself to\nGod, and bade the gentlewoman go, and he would follow where she liked.\n\nSo they rode onwards to the sea as fast as their horses might gallop,\nand at night they came to a castle in a valley, inclosed by running\nwater, and by strong and high walls, whereinto they entered and had\ngreat cheer, for the lady of the castle was the damsel's mistress.\n\nAnd when he was unarmed, the damsel said to her lady, \"Madam, shall we\nabide here this night?\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said she, \"but only till he hath dined and slept a little.\"\n\nSo he ate and slept a while, till the maid called him, and armed him by\ntorchlight; and when he had saluted the lady of the castle, the damsel\nand Sir Galahad rode on.\n\nAnon they came to the seaside, and lo! the ship, wherein were Sir\nPercival and Sir Bors, abode by the shore. Then they cried, \"Welcome,\nSir Galahad, for we have awaited thee long.\"\n\nThen they rejoiced to see each other, and told of all their adventures\nand temptations. And the damsel went into the ship with them, and spake\nto Sir Percival: \"Sir Percival, know ye not who I am?\"\n\nAnd he replied, \"Nay, certainly, I know thee not.\"\n\nThen said she, \"I am thy sister, the daughter of King Pellinore, and am\nsent to help thee and these knights, thy fellows, to achieve the quest\nwhich ye all follow.\"\n\nSo Sir Percival rejoiced to see his sister, and they departed from the\nshore. And after a while they came upon a whirlpool, where their ship\ncould not live. Then saw they another greater ship hard by and went\ntowards it, but saw neither man nor woman therein. And on the end of it\nthese words were written, \"Thou who shalt enter me, beware that thou be\nin steadfast belief, for I am Faith; and if thou doubtest, I cannot help\nthee.\" Then were they all adread, but, commending themselves to God,\nthey entered in.\n\nAs soon as they were on board they saw a fair bed, whereon lay a crown\nof silk, and at the foot was a fair and rich sword drawn from its\nscabbard half a foot and more. The pommel was of precious stones of many\ncolors, every color having a different virtue, and the scales of the\nhaft were of two ribs of different beasts. The one was bone of a serpent\nfrom Calidone forest, named the serpent of the fiend; and its virtue\nsaveth all men who hold it from weariness. The other was of a fish that\nhaunteth the floods of Euphrates, named Ertanax; and its virtue causeth\nwhoever holdeth it to forget all other things, whether of joy or pain,\nsave the thing he seeth before him.\n\n\"In the name of God,\" said Sir Percival, \"I shall assay to handle this\nsword\"; and set his hand to it, but could not grasp it. \"By my faith,\"\nsaid he, \"now have I failed.\"\n\nSir Bors set his hand to it, and failed also.\n\nThen came Sir Galahad, and saw these letters written red as blood, \"None\nshall draw me forth save the hardiest of all men; but he that draweth me\nshall never be shamed or wounded to death.\" \"By my faith,\" said Sir\nGalahad, \"I would draw it forth, but dare not try.\"\n\n\"Ye may try safely,\" said the gentlewoman, Sir Percival's sister, \"for\nbe ye well assured the drawing of this sword is forbid to all but you.\nFor this was the sword of David, King of Israel, and Solomon his son\nmade for it this marvelous pommel and this wondrous sheath, and laid it\non this bed till thou shouldest come and take it up; and though before\nthee some have dared to raise it, yet have they all been maimed or\nwounded for their daring.\"\n\n\"Where,\" said Sir Galahad, \"shall we find a girdle for it?\"\n\n\"Fair sir,\" said she, \"dismay you not\"; and therewith took from out a\nbox a girdle, nobly wrought with golden thread, set full of precious\nstones and with a rich gold buckle. \"This girdle, lords,\" said she, \"is\nmade for the most part of mine own hair, which, while I was yet in the\nworld, I loved full well; but when I knew that this adventure was\nordained me, I cut off and wove as ye now see.\"\n\nThen they all prayed Sir Galahad to take the sword, and so anon he\ngripped it in his fingers; and the maiden girt it round his waist,\nsaying, \"Now reck I not though I die, for I have made thee the worthiest\nknight of all the world.\"\n\n\"Fair damsel,\" said Sir Galahad, \"ye have done so much that I shall be\nyour knight all the days of my life.\"\n\nThen the ship sailed a great way on the sea, and brought them to land\nnear the Castle of Carteloise. When they were landed came a squire and\nasked them, \"Be ye of King Arthur's court?\"\n\n\"We are,\" said they.\n\n\"In an evil hour are ye come,\" said he, and went back swiftly to the\ncastle.\n\nWithin a while they heard a great horn blow, and saw a multitude of\nwell-armed knights come forth, who bade them yield or die. At that they\nran together, and Sir Percival smote one to the earth and mounted his\nhorse, and so likewise did Sir Bors and Sir Galahad, and soon had they\nrouted all their enemies and alighted on foot, and with their swords\nslew them downright, and entered into the castle.\n\nThen came there forth a priest, to whom Sir Galahad kneeled and said,\n\"In sooth, good father, I repent me of this slaughter; but we were first\nassailed, or else it had not been.\"\n\n\"Repent ye not,\" said the good man, \"for if ye lived as long as the\nworld lasted ye could do no better deed, for these were all the felon\nsons of a good knight, Earl Hernox, whom they have thrown into a\ndungeon, and in his name have slain priests and clerks, and beat down\nchapels far and near.\"\n\nThen Sir Galahad prayed the priest to bring him to the earl; who, when\nhe saw Sir Galahad, cried out, \"Long have I waited for thy coming, and\nnow I pray thee hold me in thine arms that I may die in peace.\"\n\nAnd therewith, when Sir Galahad had taken him in his arms, his soul\ndeparted from his body.\n\nThen came a voice in the hearing of them all, \"Depart now, Sir Galahad,\nand go quickly to the maimed king, for he hath long abided to receive\nhealth from thy hand.\"\n\nSo the three knights departed, and Sir Percival's sister with them, and\ncame to a vast forest, and saw before them a white hart, exceeding fair,\nled by four lions; and marveling greatly at that sight, they followed.\n\nAnon they came to a hermitage and a chapel, whereunto the hart entered,\nand the lions with it. Then a priest offered mass, and presently they\nsaw the hart change into the figure of a man, most sweet and comely to\nbehold; and the four lions also changed and became a man, an eagle, a\nlion, and an ox. And suddenly all those five figures vanished without\nsound. Then the knights marveled greatly, and fell upon their knees, and\nwhen they rose they prayed the priest to tell them what that sight might\nmean.\n\n\"What saw ye, sirs?\" said he, \"for I saw nothing.\" Then they told him.\n\n\"Ah, lords!\" said he, \"ye are full welcome; now know I well ye be the\nknights who shall achieve the Sangreal, for unto them alone such\nmysteries are revealed. The hart ye saw is One above all men, white and\nwithout blemish, and the four lions with Him are the four evangelists.\"\n\nWhen they heard that they heartily rejoiced, and thanking the priest,\ndeparted.\n\nAnon, as they passed by a certain castle, an armed knight suddenly came\nafter them, and cried out to the damsel, \"By the holy cross, ye shall\nnot go till ye have yielded to the custom of the castle.\"\n\n\"Let her go,\" said Sir Percival, \"for a maiden, wheresoever she cometh,\nis free.\"\n\n\"Whatever maiden passeth here,\" replied the knight, \"must give a dishful\nof her blood from her right arm.\"\n\n\"It is a foul and shameful custom,\" cried Sir Galahad and both his\nfellows, \"and sooner will we die than let this maiden yield thereto.\"\n\n\"Then shall ye die,\" replied the knight, and as he spake there came out\nfrom a gate hard by, ten or twelve more, and encountered with them,\nrunning upon them vehemently with a great cry. But the three knights\nwithstood them, and set their hands to their swords, and beat them down\nand slew them.\n\nAt that came forth a company of threescore knights, all armed. \"Fair\nlords,\" said Sir Galahad, \"have mercy on yourselves and keep from us.\"\n\n\"Nay, fair lords,\" they answered, \"rather be advised by us, and yield ye\nto our custom.\"\n\n\"It is an idle word,\" said Galahad, \"in vain ye speak it.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said they, \"will ye die?\"\n\n\"We be not come thereto as yet,\" replied Sir Galahad.\n\nThen did they fall upon each other, and Sir Galahad drew forth his\nsword, and smote on the right hand and on the left, and slew so mightily\nthat all who saw him thought he was a monster and no earthly man. And\nboth his comrades helped him well, and so they held the field against\nthat multitude till it was night. Then came a good knight forward from\nthe enemy and said, \"Fair knights, abide with us to-night and be right\nwelcome; by the faith of our bodies as we are true knights, to-morrow ye\nshall rise unharmed, and meanwhile maybe ye will, of your own accord,\naccept the custom of the castle when ye know it better.\"\n\nSo they entered and alighted and made great cheer. Anon, they asked them\nwhence that custom came. \"The lady of this castle is a leper,\" said\nthey, \"and can be no way cured save by the blood of a pure virgin and a\nking's daughter; therefore to save her life are we her servants bound to\nstay every maid that passeth by, and try if her blood may not cure our\nmistress.\"\n\nThen said the damsel, \"Take ye of my blood as much as ye will, if it may\navail your lady.\"\n\nAnd though the three knights urged her not to put her life in that great\nperil, she replied, \"If I die to heal another's body, I shall get health\nto my soul,\" and would not be persuaded to refuse.\n\nSo on the morrow she was brought to the sick lady, and her arm was\nbared, and a vein thereof was opened, and the dish filled with her\nblood. Then the sick lady was anointed therewith, and anon she was whole\nof her malady. With that Sir Percival's sister lifted up her hand and\nblessed her, saying, \"Madam, I am come to my death to make you whole;\nfor God's love pray for me\"; and thus saying she fell down in a swoon.\n\nThen Sir Galahad, Sir Percival, and Sir Bors started to lift her up and\nstaunch her blood, but she had lost too much to live. So when she came\nto herself she said to Sir Percival, \"Fair brother, I must die for the\nhealing of this lady, and now, I pray thee, bury me not here, but when I\nam dead put me in a boat at the next haven and let me float at venture\non the sea. And when ye come to the city of Sarras, to achieve the\nSangreal, shall ye find me waiting by a tower, and there I pray thee\nbury me, for there shall Sir Galahad and ye also be laid.\" Thus having\nsaid, she died.\n\nThen Sir Percival wrote all the story of her life and put it in her\nright hand, and so laid her in a barge and covered it with silk. And\nthe wind arising drove the barge from land, and all the knights stood\nwatching it till it was out of sight.\n\nAnon they returned to the castle, and forthwith fell a sudden tempest of\nthunder and lightning and rain, as if the earth were broken up: and half\nthe castle was thrown down. Then came a voice to the three knights which\nsaid, \"Depart ye now asunder till ye meet again where the maimed king is\nlying.\" So they parted and rode divers ways.\n\nNow after Sir Lancelot had left the hermit, he rode a long while till he\nknew not whither to turn, and so he lay down to sleep, if haply he might\ndream whither to go.\n\nAnd in his sleep a vision came to him saying, \"Lancelot, rise up and\ntake thine armor, and enter the first ship that thou shalt find.\"\n\nWhen he awoke he obeyed the vision, and rode till he came to the\nsea-shore, and found there a ship without sails or oars, and as soon as\nhe was in it he smelt the sweetest savor he had ever known, and seemed\nfilled with all things he could think of or desire. And looking round he\nsaw a fair bed, and thereon a gentlewoman lying dead, who was Sir\nPercival's sister. And as Sir Lancelot looked on her he spied the\nwriting in her right hand, and, taking it, he read therein her story.\nAnd more than a month thereafter he abode in that ship and was nourished\nby the grace of Heaven, as Israel was fed with manna in the desert.\n\nAnd on a certain night he went ashore to pass the time, for he was\nsomewhat weary, and, listening, he heard a horse come towards him, from\nwhich a knight alighted and went up into the ship; who, when he saw Sir\nLancelot, said, \"Fair sir, ye be right welcome to mine eyes, for I am\nthy son Galahad, and long time I have sought for thee.\" With that he\nkneeled and asked his blessing, and took off his helm and kissed him,\nand the great joy there was between them no tongue can tell.\n\nThen for half a year they dwelt together in the ship, and served God\nnight and day with all their powers, and went to many unknown islands,\nwhere none but wild beasts haunted, and there found many strange and\nperilous adventures.\n\nAnd upon a time they came to the edge of a forest, before a cross of\nstone, and saw a knight armed all in white, leading a white horse. Then\nthe knight saluted them, and said to Galahad, \"Ye have been long time\nenough with your father; now, therefore, leave him and ride this horse\ntill ye achieve the Holy Quest.\"\n\nThen went Sir Galahad to his father and kissed him full courteously, and\nsaid, \"Fair father, I know not when I shall see thee again.\"\n\nAnd as he took his horse a voice spake in their hearing, \"Ye shall meet\nno more in this life.\"\n\n\"Now, my son, Sir Galahad,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"since we must so part\nand see each other never more, I pray the High Father of Heaven to\npreserve both you and me.\"\n\nThen they bade farewell, and Sir Galahad entered the forest, and Sir\nLancelot returned to the ship, and the wind rose and drove him more than\na month through the sea, whereby he slept but little, yet ever prayed\nthat he might see the Sangreal.\n\nSo it befell upon a certain midnight, the moon shining clear, he came\nbefore a fair and rich castle, whereof the postern gate was open towards\nthe sea, having no keeper save two lions in the entry.\n\nAnon Sir Lancelot heard a voice: \"Leave now thy ship and go within the\ncastle, and thou shalt see a part of thy desire.\"\n\nThen he armed and went towards the gate, and coming to the lions he drew\nout his sword, but suddenly a dwarf rushed out and smote him on the arm,\nso that he dropt his sword, and heard again the voice, \"Oh, man of evil\nfaith, and poor belief, wherefore trustest thou thine arms above thy\nMaker?\" Then he put up his sword and signed the cross upon his forehead,\nand so passed by the lions without hurt.\n\nAnd going in, he found a chamber with the door shut, which in vain he\ntried to open. And listening thereat he heard a voice within, which sang\nso sweetly that it seemed no earthly thing, \"Joy and honor be to the\nFather of Heaven!\" Then he kneeled down at the door, for he knew well\nthe Sangreal was there within.\n\nAnon the door was opened without hands, and forthwith came thereout so\ngreat a splendor as if all the torches of the world had been alight\ntogether. But when he would have entered in, a voice forbade him;\nwherefore he drew back, and looked, standing upon the threshold of the\ndoor. And there he saw a table of silver, and the holy vessel covered\nwith red samite, and many angels round it holding burning candles and a\ncross and all the ornaments of the altar.\n\nThen a priest stood up and offered mass, and when he took the vessel up,\nhe seemed to sink beneath that burden. At that Sir Lancelot cried, \"O\nFather, take it not for sin that I go in to help the priest, who hath\nmuch need thereof.\" So saying, he went in, but when he came towards the\ntable he felt a breath of fire which issued out therefrom and smote him\nto the ground, so that he had no power to rise.\n\nThen felt he many hands about him, which took him up and laid him down\noutside the chapel door. There lay he in a swoon all through that night,\nand on the morrow certain people found him senseless, and bore him to an\ninner chamber and laid him on a bed. And there he rested, living, but\nmoving no limbs, twenty-four days and nights.\n\nOn the twenty-fifth day he opened his eyes and saw those standing round,\nand said, \"Why have ye waked me? for I have seen marvels that no tongue\ncan tell, and more than any heart can think.\"\n\nThen he asked where he was, and they told him, \"In the Castle of\nCarbonek.\"\n\n\"Tell your lord, King Pelles,\" said he, \"that I am Sir Lancelot.\"\n\nAt that they marveled greatly, and told their lord it was Sir Lancelot\nwho had lain there so long.\n\nThen was King Pelles wondrous glad and went to see him, and prayed him\nto abide there for a season. But Sir Lancelot said, \"I know well that I\nhave now seen as much as mine eyes may behold of the Sangreal; wherefore\nI will return to my own country.\" So he took leave of King Pelles, and\ndeparted towards Logris.\n\nNow after Sir Galahad had parted from Sir Lancelot, he rode many days,\ntill he came to the monastery where the blind King Evelake lay, whom Sir\nPercival had seen. And on the morrow, when he had heard mass, Sir\nGalahad desired to see the king, who cried out, \"Welcome, Sir Galahad,\nservant of the Lord! long have I abided thy coming. Take me now in thine\narms, that I may die in peace.\"\n\nAt that Sir Galahad embraced him; and when he had so done the king's\neyes were opened, and he said, \"Fair Lord Jesus, suffer me now to come\nto Thee\"; and anon his soul departed.\n\nThen they buried him royally, as a king should be; and Sir Galahad went\non his way.\n\nWithin a while he came to a chapel in a forest, in the crypt whereof he\nsaw a tomb which always blazed and burnt. And asking the brethren what\nthat might mean, they told him, \"Joseph of Arimathea's son did found\nthis monastery, and one who wronged him hath lain here these three\nhundred and fifty years and burneth evermore, until that perfect knight\nwho shall achieve the Sangreal doth quench the fire.\"\n\nThen said he, \"I pray ye bring me to the tomb.\"\n\nAnd when he touched the place immediately the fire was quenched, and a\nvoice came from the grave and cried, \"Thanks be to God, who now hath\npurged me of my sin, and draweth me from earthly pains into the joys of\nparadise.\"\n\nThen Sir Galahad took the body in his arms and bore it to the abbey, and\non the morrow put it in the earth before the high altar.\n\nAnon he departed from thence and rode five days in a great forest; and\nafter that he met Sir Percival, and a little further on Sir Bors. When\nthey had told each other their adventures, they rode together to the\nCastle of Carbonek: and there King Pelles gave them hearty welcome, for\nhe knew they should achieve the Holy Quest.\n\nAs soon as they were come into the castle, a voice cried in the midst of\nthe chamber, \"Let them who ought not now to sit at the table of the Lord\nrise and depart hence!\" Then all, save those three knights, departed.\n\nAnon they saw other knights come in with haste at the hall doors and\ntake their harness off, who said to Sir Galahad, \"Sir, we have tried\nsore to be with you at this table.\"\n\n\"Ye be welcome,\" said he, \"but whence are ye?\"\n\nSo three of them said they were from Gaul; and three from Ireland; and\nthree from Denmark.\n\nThen came forth the likeness of a bishop, with a cross in his hand, and\nfour angels stood by him, and a table of silver was before them, whereon\nwas set the vessel of the Sangreal. Then came forth other angels\nalso--two bearing burning candles, and the third a towel, and the\nfourth a spear which bled marvelously, the drops wherefrom fell into a\nbox he held in his left hand. Anon the bishop took the wafer up to\nconsecrate it, and at the lifting up, they saw the figure of a Child,\nwhose visage was as bright as any fire, which smote itself into the\nmidst of the wafer and vanished, so that all saw the flesh made bread.\n\nThereat the bishop went to Galahad and kissed him, and bade him go and\nkiss his fellows; and said, \"Now, servants of the Lord, prepare for food\nsuch as none ever yet were fed with since the world began.\"\n\nWith that he vanished, and the knights were filled with a great dread\nand prayed devoutly.\n\nThen saw they come forth from the holy vessel the vision of a man\nbleeding all openly, whom they knew well by the tokens of His passion\nfor the Lord Himself. At that they fell upon their faces and were dumb.\nAnon he brought the Holy Grail to them and spake high words of comfort,\nand, when they drank therefrom, the taste thereof was sweeter than any\ntongue could tell or heart desire. Then a voice said to Galahad, \"Son,\nwith this blood which drippeth from the spear anoint thou the maimed\nking and heal him. And when thou hast this done, depart hence with thy\nbrethren in a ship that ye shall find, and go to the city of Sarras. And\nbear with thee the holy vessel, for it shall no more be seen in the\nrealm of Logris.\"\n\nAt that Sir Galahad walked to the bleeding spear, and therefrom\nanointing his fingers went out straightway to the maimed King Pelles,\nand touched his wound. Then suddenly he uprose from his bed as whole a\nman as ever he was, and praised God passing thankfully with all his\nheart.\n\nThen Sir Galahad, Sir Bors, and Sir Percival departed as they had been\ntold; and when they had ridden three days they came to the sea-shore,\nand found the ship awaiting them. Therein they entered, and saw in the\nmidst the silver table and the vessel of the Sangreal, covered with red\nsamite. Then were they passing glad, and made great reverence thereto.\nAnd Sir Galahad prayed that now he might leave the world and pass to\nGod. And presently, the while he prayed, a voice said to him, \"Galahad,\nthy prayer is heard, and when thou asketh the death of the body thou\nshalt have it, and find the life of thy soul.\"\n\nBut while they prayed and slept the ship sailed on, and when they woke\nthey saw the city of Sarras before them, and the other ship wherein was\nSir Percival's sister. Then the three knights took up the holy table and\nthe Sangreal and went into the city; and there, in a chapel, they buried\nSir Percival's sister right solemnly.\n\nNow at the gate of the town they saw an old cripple sitting, whom Sir\nGalahad called to help them bear their weight.\n\n\"Truly,\" said the old man, \"it is ten years since I have gone a step\nwithout these crutches.\"\n\n\"Care ye not,\" said Sir Galahad, \"rise now and show goodwill.\"\n\nSo he assayed to move, and found his limbs as strong as any man's might\nbe, and running to the table helped to carry it.\n\nAnon there rose a rumor in the city that a cripple had been healed by\ncertain marvelous strange knights.\n\nBut the king, named Estouranse, who was a heathen tyrant, when he heard\nthereof took Sir Galahad and his fellows, and put them in prison in a\ndeep hole. Therein they abode a great while, but ever the Sangreal was\nwith them and fed them with marvelous sweet food, so that they fainted\nnot, but had all joy and comfort they could wish.\n\nAt the year's end the king fell sick and felt that he should die. Then\nsent he for the three knights, and when they came before him prayed\ntheir mercy for his trespasses against them. So they forgave him gladly,\nand anon he died.\n\nThen the chief men of the city took counsel together who should be king\nin his stead, and as they talked, a voice cried in their midst, \"Choose\nye the youngest of the three knights King Estouranse cast into prison\nfor your king.\" At that they sought Sir Galahad and made him king with\nthe assent of all the city, and else they would have slain him.\n\nBut within a twelve-month came to him, upon a certain day, as he prayed\nbefore the Sangreal, a man in likeness of a bishop, with a great company\nof angels round about him, who offered mass, and afterwards called to\nSir Galahad, \"Come forth, thou servant of the Lord, for the time hath\ncome thou hast desired so long.\"\n\nThen Sir Galahad lifted up his hands and prayed, \"Now, blessed Lord!\nwould I no longer live if it might please Thee.\"\n\nAnon the bishop gave him the sacrament, and when he had received it with\nunspeakable gladness, he said, \"Who art thou, father?\"\n\n\"I am Joseph of Arimathea,\" answered he, \"whom our Lord hath sent to\nbear thee fellowship.\"\n\nWhen he heard that, Sir Galahad went to Sir Percival and Sir Bors and\nkissed them and commended them to God, saying, \"Salute for me Sir\nLancelot, my father, and bid them remember this unstable world.\"\n\nTherewith he kneeled down and prayed, and suddenly his soul departed,\nand a multitude of angels bare it up to heaven. Then came a hand from\nheaven and took the vessel and the spear and bare them out of sight.\n\nSince then was never man so hardy as to say that he had seen the\nSangreal.\n\nAnd after all these things, Sir Percival put off his armor and betook\nhim to an hermitage, and within a little while passed out of this world.\nAnd Sir Bors, when he had buried him beside his sister, returned,\nweeping sore for the loss of his two brethren, to King Arthur, at\nCamelot.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PASSING OF ARTHUR\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\nSIR LANCELOT AND THE FAIR ELAINE\n\n\nNow after the quest of the Sangreal was fulfilled and all the knights\nwho were left alive were come again to the Round Table, there was great\njoy in the court. And passing glad were King Arthur and Queen Guinevere\nto see Sir Lancelot and Sir Bors, for they had been long absent in that\nquest.\n\nAnd so greatly was Sir Lancelot's fame now spread abroad that many\nladies and damsels daily resorted to him and besought him for their\nchampion; and all right quarrels did he gladly undertake for the\npleasure of our Lord Christ. And always as much as he might he withdrew\nhim from the queen.\n\nWherefore Queen Guinevere, who counted him for her own knight, grew\nwroth with him, and on a certain day she called him to her chamber, and\nsaid thus: \"Sir Lancelot, I daily see thy loyalty to me doth slack, for\never thou art absent from this court, and takest other ladies' quarrels\non thee more than ever thou wert wont. Now do I understand thee, false\nknight, and therefore shall I never trust thee more. Depart now from my\nsight, and come no more within this court upon pain of thy head.\" With\nthat she turned from him and would hear no excuses.\n\nSo Sir Lancelot departed in heaviness of heart, and calling Sir Bors,\nSir Ector, and Sir Lionel, he told them how the queen had dealt with\nhim.\n\n\"Fair sir,\" replied Sir Bors, \"remember what honor ye have in this\ncountry, and how ye are called the noblest knight in the world;\nwherefore go not, for women are hasty, and do often what they sore\nrepent of afterwards. Be ruled by my advice. Take horse and ride to the\nhermitage beside Windsor, and there abide till I send ye better\ntidings.\"\n\nTo that Sir Lancelot consented, and departed with a sorrowful\ncountenance.\n\nNow when the queen heard of his leaving she was inwardly sorry, but made\nno show of grief, bearing a proud visage outwardly. And on a certain day\nshe made a costly banquet to all the knights of the Round Table, to show\nshe had as great joy in all others as in Sir Lancelot. And at the\nbanquet were Sir Gawain, and his brothers Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris,\nand Sir Gareth; also Sir Modred, Sir Bors, Sir Blamor, Sir Bleoberis,\nSir Ector, Sir Lionel, Sir Palomedes, Sir Mador de la Port, and his\ncousin Sir Patrice--a knight of Ireland, Sir Pinell le Savage, and many\nmore.\n\nNow Sir Pinell hated Sir Gawain because he had slain one of his kinsmen\nby treason; and Sir Gawain had a great love for all kinds of fruit,\nwhich, when Sir Pinell knew, he poisoned certain apples that were set\nupon the table, with intent to slay him. And so it chanced as they ate\nand made merry, Sir Patrice, who sat next to Sir Gawain, took one of the\npoisoned apples and eat it, and when he had eaten he suddenly swelled up\nand fell down dead.\n\nAt that every knight leapt from the board ashamed and enraged nigh out\nof their wits, for they knew not what to say, yet seeing that the queen\nhad made the banquet they all had suspicion of her.\n\n\"My lady the queen,\" said Sir Gawain, \"I wit well this fruit was meant\nfor me, for all men know my love for it, and now had I been nearly\nslain; wherefore, I fear me, ye will be ashamed.\"\n\n\"This shall not end so,\" cried Sir Mador de la Port; \"now have I lost a\nnoble knight of my own blood, and for this despite and shame I will be\nrevenged to the uttermost.\"\n\nThen he challenged Queen Guinevere concerning the death of his cousin,\nbut she stood still, sore abashed, and anon with her sorrow and dread,\nshe swooned.\n\nAt the noise and sudden cry came in King Arthur, and to him appealed Sir\nMador, and impeached the queen.\n\n\"Fair lords,\" said he, \"full sorely am I troubled at this matter, for I\nmust be rightful judge, and therein it repenteth me I may not do battle\nfor my wife, for, as I deem, this deed was none of hers. But I suppose\nshe will not lack a champion, and some good knight surely will put his\nbody in jeopardy to save her.\"\n\nBut all who had been bidden to the banquet said they could not hold the\nqueen excused, or be her champions, for she had made the feast, and\neither by herself or servants must it have come.\n\n\"Alas!\" said the queen, \"I made this dinner for a good intent, and no\nevil, so God help me in my need.\"\n\n\"My lord the king,\" said Sir Mador, \"I require you heartily as you be a\nrighteous king give me a day when I may have justice.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the king, \"I give ye this day fifteen days, when ye shall\nbe ready and armed in the meadow beside Westminster, and if there be a\nknight to fight with you, God speed the right, and if not, then must my\nqueen be burnt.\"\n\nWhen the king and queen were alone together he asked her how this case\nbefell.\n\n\"I wot not how or in what manner,\" answered she.\n\n\"Where is Sir Lancelot?\" said King Arthur, \"for he would not grudge to\ndo battle for thee.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said she, \"I cannot tell you, but all his kinsmen deem he is not\nin this realm.\"\n\n\"These be sad tidings,\" said the king; \"I counsel ye to find Sir Bors,\nand pray him for Sir Lancelot's sake to do this battle for you.\"\n\nSo the queen departed and sent for Sir Bors to her chamber, and besought\nhis succor.\n\n\"Madam,\" said he, \"what would you have me do? for I may not with my\nhonor take this matter on me, for I was at that same dinner, and all the\nother knights would have me ever in suspicion. Now do ye miss Sir\nLancelot, for he would not have failed you in right nor yet in wrong,\nas ye have often proved, but now ye have driven him from the country.\"\n\n\"Alas! fair knight,\" said the queen, \"I put me wholly at your mercy, and\nall that is done amiss I will amend as ye will counsel me.\"\n\nAnd therewith she kneeled down upon both her knees before Sir Bors, and\nbesought him to have mercy on her.\n\nAnon came in King Arthur also, and prayed him of his courtesy to help\nher, saying, \"I require you for the love of Lancelot.\"\n\n\"My lord,\" said he, \"ye require the greatest thing of me that any man\ncan ask, for if I do this battle for the queen I shall anger all my\nfellows of the Table Round; nevertheless, for my lord Sir Lancelot's\nsake, and for yours, I will that day be the queen's champion, unless\nthere chance to come a better knight than I am to do battle for her.\"\nAnd this he promised on his faith.\n\nThen were the king and queen passing glad, and thanked him heartily, and\nso departed.\n\nBut Sir Bors rode in secret to the hermitage where Sir Lancelot was, and\ntold him all these tidings.\n\n\"It has chanced as I would have it,\" said Sir Lancelot; \"yet make ye\nready for the battle, but tarry till ye see me come.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Bors, \"doubt not but ye shall have your will.\"\n\nBut many of the knights were greatly wroth with him when they heard he\nwas to be the queen's champion, for there were few in the court but\ndeemed her guilty.\n\nThen said Sir Bors, \"Wit ye will, fair lords, it were a shame to us all\nto suffer so fair and noble a lady to be burnt for lack of a champion,\nfor ever hath she proved herself a lover of good knights; wherefore I\ndoubt not she is guiltless of this treason.\"\n\nAt that were some well pleased, but others rested passing wroth.\n\nAnd when the day was come, the king and queen and all the knights went\nto the meadow beside Westminster, where the battle should be fought.\nThen the queen was put in ward, and a great fire was made round the iron\nstake, where she must be burnt if Sir Mador won the day.\n\nSo when the heralds blew, Sir Mador rode forth, and took oath that Queen\nGuinevere was guilty of Sir Patrice's death, and his oath he would prove\nwith his body against any who would say the contrary. Then came forth\nSir Bors, and said, \"Queen Guinevere is in the right, and that will I\nprove with my hands.\"\n\nWith that they both departed to their tents to make ready for the\nbattle. But Sir Bors tarried long, hoping Sir Lancelot would come, till\nSir Mador cried out to King Arthur, \"Bid thy champion come forth, unless\nhe dare not.\" Then was Sir Bors ashamed, and took his horse and rode to\nthe end of the lists.\n\nBut ere he could meet Sir Mador he was aware of a knight upon a white\nhorse, armed at all points, and with a strange shield, who rode to him\nand said, \"I pray you withdraw from this quarrel, for it is mine, and I\nhave ridden far to fight in it.\"\n\nThereat Sir Bors rode to King Arthur, and told him that another knight\nwas come who would do battle for the queen.\n\n\"Who is he?\" said King Arthur.\n\n\"I may not tell you,\" said Sir Bors; \"but he made a covenant with me to\nbe here to-day, wherefore I am discharged.\"\n\nThen the king called that knight, and asked him if he would fight for\nthe queen.\n\n\"Therefore came I hither, Sir king,\" answered he; \"but let us tarry no\nlonger, for anon I have other matters to do. But wit ye well,\" said he\nto the Knights of the Round Table, \"it is shame to ye for such a\ncourteous queen to suffer this dishonor.\"\n\nAnd all men marveled who this knight might be, for none knew him save\nSir Bors.\n\nThen Sir Mador and the knight rode to either end of the lists, and\ncouching their spears, ran one against the other with all their might;\nand Sir Mador's spear broke short, but the strange knight bore both him\nand his horse down to the ground. Then lightly they leaped from their\nsaddles and drew their swords, and so came eagerly to the battle, and\neither gave the other many sad strokes and sore and deep wounds.\n\nThus they fought nigh an hour, for Sir Mador was a full strong and\nvaliant knight. But at last the strange knight smote him to the earth,\nand gave him such a buffet on the helm as wellnigh killed him. Then did\nSir Mador yield, and prayed his life.\n\n\"I will but grant it thee,\" said the strange knight, \"if thou wilt\nrelease the queen from this quarrel forever, and promise that no mention\nshall be made upon Sir Patrice's tomb that ever she consented to that\ntreason.\"\n\n\"All this shall be done,\" said Sir Mador.\n\nThen the knights parters took up Sir Mador and led him to his tent, and\nthe other knight went straight to the stair foot of King Arthur's\nthrone; and by that time was the queen come to the king again, and\nkissed him lovingly.\n\nThen both the king and she stooped down, and thanked the knight, and\nprayed him to put off his helm and rest him, and to take a cup of wine.\nAnd when he put his helmet off to drink, all people saw it was Sir\nLancelot. But when the queen beheld him she sank almost to the ground\nweeping for sorrow and for joy, that he had done her such great goodness\nwhen she had showed him such unkindness.\n\nThen the knights of his blood gathered round him, and there was great\njoy and mirth in the court. And Sir Mador and Sir Lancelot were soon\nhealed of their wounds; and not long after came the Lady of the Lake to\nthe court, and told all there by her enchantments how Sir Pinell, and\nnot the queen, was guilty of Sir Patrice's death. Whereat the queen was\nheld excused of all men, and Sir Pinell fled the country.\n\nSo Sir Patrice was buried in the church of Winchester, and it was\nwritten on his tomb that Sir Pinell slew him with a poisoned apple, in\nerror for Sir Gawain. Then, through Sir Lancelot's favor, the queen was\nreconciled to Sir Mador, and all was forgiven.\n\nNow fifteen days before the Feast of the Assumption of our Lady, the\nking proclaimed a tourney to be held that feast-day at Camelot, whereat\nhimself and the King of Scotland would joust with all who should come\nagainst them. So thither went the King of North Wales, and King Anguish\nof Ireland, and Sir Galahaut the noble prince, and many other nobles of\ndivers countries.\n\nAnd King Arthur made ready to go, and would have had the queen go with\nhim, but she said that she was sick. Sir Lancelot, also, made excuses,\nsaying he was not yet whole of his wounds.\n\nAt that the king was passing heavy and grieved, and so departed alone\ntowards Camelot. And by the way he lodged in a town called Astolat, and\nlay that night in the castle.\n\nAs soon as he had gone, Sir Lancelot said to the queen, \"This night I\nwill rest, and to-morrow betimes will I take my way to Camelot; for at\nthese jousts I will be against the king and his fellowship.\"\n\n\"Ye may do as ye list,\" said Queen Guinevere; \"but by my counsel ye will\nnot be against the king, for in his company are many hardy knights, as\nye well know.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"I pray ye be not displeased with me, for I\nwill take the adventure that God may send me.\"\n\nAnd on the morrow he went to the church and heard mass, and took his\nleave of the queen, and so departed.\n\nThen he rode long till he came to Astolat, and there lodged at the\ncastle of an old baron called Sir Bernard of Astolat, which was near the\ncastle where King Arthur lodged. And as Sir Lancelot entered the king\nespied him, and knew him. Then said he to the knights, \"I have just seen\na knight who will fight full well at the joust toward which we go.\"\n\n\"Who is it?\" asked they.\n\n\"As yet ye shall not know,\" he answered smiling.\n\nWhen Sir Lancelot was in his chamber unarming the old baron came to him,\nsaluting him, though as yet he knew not who he was.\n\nNow Sir Bernard had a daughter passing beautiful, called the Fair Maid\nof Astolat, and when she saw Sir Lancelot she loved him from that\ninstant with her whole heart, and could not stay from gazing on him.\n\nOn the morrow, Sir Lancelot asked the old baron to lend him a strange\nshield. \"For,\" said he, \"I would be unknown.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said his host, \"ye shall have your desire, for here is the shield\nof my eldest son, Sir Torre, who was hurt the day he was made knight, so\nthat he cannot ride; and his shield, therefore, is not known. And, if it\nplease you, my youngest son, Sir Lavaine, shall ride with you to the\njousts, for he is of his age full strong and mighty; and I deem ye be a\nnoble knight, wherefore I pray ye tell me your name.\"\n\n\"As to that,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"ye must hold me excused at this time,\nbut if I speed well at the jousts, I will come again and tell you; but\nin anywise let me have your son, Sir Lavaine, with me, and lend me his\nbrother's shield.\"\n\nThen, ere they departed, came Elaine, the baron's daughter, and said to\nSir Lancelot, \"I pray thee, gentle knight, to wear my token at\nto-morrow's tourney.\"\n\n\"If I should grant you that, fair damsel,\" said he, \"ye might say that I\ndid more for you than ever I have done for lady or damsel.\"\n\nThen he bethought him that if he granted her request he would be the\nmore disguised, for never before had he worn any lady's token. So anon\nhe said, \"Fair damsel, I will wear thy token on my helmet if thou wilt\nshow it me.\"\n\nThereat was she passing glad, and brought him a scarlet sleeve broidered\nwith pearls, which Sir Lancelot took, and put upon his helm. Then he\nprayed her to keep his shield for him until he came again, and taking\nSir Torre's shield instead, rode forth with Sir Lavaine towards Camelot.\n\nOn the morrow the trumpets blew for the tourney, and there was a great\npress of dukes and earls and barons and many noble knights; and King\nArthur sat in a gallery to behold who did the best. So the King of\nScotland and his knights, and King Anguish of Ireland rode forth on King\nArthur's side; and against them came the King of North Wales, the King\nof a Hundred Knights, the King of Northumberland, and the noble prince\nSir Galahaut.\n\nBut Sir Lancelot and Sir Lavaine rode into a little wood behind the\nparty which was against King Arthur, to watch which side should prove\nthe weakest.\n\nThen was there a strong fight between the two parties, for the King of a\nHundred Knights smote down the King of Scotland; and Sir Palomedes, who\nwas on King Arthur's side, overthrew Sir Galahaut. Then came fifteen\nKnights of the Round Table and beat back the Kings of Northumberland and\nNorth Wales with their knights.\n\n\"Now,\" said Sir Lancelot to Sir Lavaine, \"if ye will help me, ye shall\nsee yonder fellowship go back as fast as they came.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Sir Lavaine, \"I will do what I can.\"\n\nThen they rode together into the thickest of the press, and there, with\none spear, Sir Lancelot smote down five Knights of the Round Table, one\nafter other, and Sir Lavaine overthrew two. And taking another spear,\nfor his own was broken, Sir Lancelot smote down four more knights, and\nSir Lavaine a fifth. Then, drawing his sword, Sir Lancelot fought\nfiercely on the right hand and the left, and unhorsed Sir Safire, Sir\nEpinogris, and Sir Galleron. At that the Knights of the Round Table\nwithdrew themselves as well as they were able.\n\n\"Now, mercy,\" said Sir Gawain, who sat by King Arthur; \"what knight is\nthat who doth such marvelous deeds of arms? I should deem him by his\nforce to be Sir Lancelot, but that he wears a lady's token on his helm\nas never Lancelot doth.\"\n\n\"Let him be,\" said King Arthur; \"he will be better known, and do more\nere he depart.\"\n\nThus the party against King Arthur prospered at this time, and his\nknights were sore ashamed. Then Sir Bors, Sir Ector, and Sir Lionel\ncalled together the knights of their blood, nine in number, and agreed\nto join together in one band against the two strange knights. So they\nencountered Sir Lancelot all at once, and by main force smote his horse\nto the ground; and by misfortune Sir Bors struck Sir Lancelot through\nthe shield into the side, and the spear broke off and left the head in\nthe wound.\n\nWhen Sir Lavaine saw that, he ran to the King of Scotland and struck\nhim off his horse, and brought it to Sir Lancelot, and helped him to\nmount. Then Sir Lancelot bore Sir Bors and his horse to the ground, and\nin like manner served Sir Ector and Sir Lionel; and turning upon three\nother knights he smote them down also; while Sir Lavaine did many\ngallant deeds.\n\nBut feeling himself now sorely wounded Sir Lancelot drew his sword, and\nproffered to fight with Sir Bors, who, by this time, was mounted anew.\nAnd as they met, Sir Ector and Sir Lionel came also, and the swords of\nall three drave fiercely against him. When he felt their buffets, and\nhis wound that was so grievous, he determined to do all his best while\nhe could yet endure, and smote Sir Bors a blow that bent his head down\nnearly to the ground and razed his helmet off and pulled him from his\nhorse.\n\nThen rushing at Sir Ector and Sir Lionel, he smote them down, and might\nhave slain all three, but when he saw their faces his heart forbade him.\nLeaving them, therefore, on the field, he hurled into the thickest of\nthe press, and did such feats of arms as never were beheld before.\n\nAnd Sir Lavaine was with him through it all, and overthrew ten knights;\nbut Sir Lancelot smote down more than thirty, and most of them Knights\nof the Round Table.\n\nThen the king ordered the trumpets to blow for the end of the tourney,\nand the prize to be given by the heralds to the knight with the white\nshield who bore the red sleeve.\n\nBut ere Sir Lancelot was found by the heralds, came the King of the\nHundred Knights, the King of North Wales, the King of Northumberland,\nand Sir Galahaut, and said to him, \"Fair knight, God bless thee, for\nmuch have ye done this day for us; wherefore we pray ye come with us and\nreceive the honor and the prize as ye have worshipfully deserved it.\"\n\n\"My fair lords,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"wit ye well if I have deserved\nthanks, I have sore bought them, for I am like never to escape with my\nlife; therefore pray ye let me depart, for I am sore hurt. I take no\nthought of honor, for I had rather rest me than be lord of all the\nworld.\" And therewith he groaned piteously, and rode a great gallop away\nfrom them.\n\nAnd Sir Lavaine rode after him, sad at heart, for the broken spear still\nstuck fast in Sir Lancelot's side, and the blood streamed sorely from\nthe wound. Anon they came near a wood more than a mile from the lists,\nwhere he knew he could be hidden.\n\nThen said he to Sir Lavaine, \"O gentle knight, help me to pull out this\nspear-head from my side, for the pain thereof nigh killeth me.\"\n\n\"Dear lord,\" said he, \"I fain would help ye; but I dread to draw it\nforth, lest ye should die for loss of blood.\"\n\n\"I charge you as you love me,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"draw it out.\"\n\nSo they dismounted, and with a mighty wrench Sir Lavaine drew the spear\nforth from Sir Lancelot's side; whereat he gave a marvelous great shriek\nand ghastly groan, and all his blood leaped forth in a full stream. Then\nhe sank swooning to the earth, with a visage pale as death.\n\n\"Alas!\" cried Sir Lavaine, \"what shall I do now?\"\n\nAnd then he turned his master's face towards the wind, and sat by him\nnigh half an hour while he lay quiet as one dead. But at the last he\nlifted up his eyes, and said, \"I pray ye bear me on my horse again, and\nlead me to a hermit who dwelleth within two miles hence, for he was\nformerly a knight of Arthur's court, and now hath mighty skill in\nmedicine and herbs.\"\n\nSo with great pain Sir Lavaine got him to his horse, and led him to the\nhermitage within the wood, beside a stream. Then knocked he with his\nspear upon the door, and prayed to enter. At that a child came out, to\nwhom he said, \"Fair child, pray the good man thy master to come hither\nand let in a knight who is sore wounded.\"\n\nAnon came out the knight-hermit, whose name was Sir Baldwin, and asked,\n\"Who is this wounded knight?\"\n\n\"I know not,\" said Sir Lavaine, \"save that he is the noblest knight I\never met with, and hath done this day such marvelous deeds of arms\nagainst King Arthur that he hath won the prize of the tourney.\"\n\nThen the hermit gazed long on Sir Lancelot, and hardly knew him, so pale\nhe was with bleeding, yet said he at the last, \"Who art thou, lord?\"\n\nSir Lancelot answered feebly, \"I am a stranger knight adventurous, who\nlaboreth through many realms to win worship.\"\n\n\"Why hidest thou thy name, dear lord, from me?\" cried Sir Baldwin; \"for\nin sooth I know thee now to be the noblest knight in all the world--my\nlord Sir Lancelot du Lake, with whom I long had fellowship at the Round\nTable.\"\n\n\"Since ye know me, fair sir,\" said he, \"I pray ye, for Christ's sake, to\nhelp me if ye may.\"\n\n\"Doubt not,\" replied he, \"that ye shall live and fare right well.\"\n\nThen he staunched his wound, and gave him strong medicines and cordials\ntill he was refreshed from his faintness and came to himself again.\n\nNow after the jousting was done King Arthur held a feast, and asked to\nsee the knight with the red sleeve that he might take the prize. So they\ntold him how that knight had ridden from the field wounded nigh to\ndeath. \"These be the worst tidings I have heard for many years,\" cried\nout the king; \"I would not for my kingdom he were slain.\"\n\nThen all men asked, \"Know ye him, lord?\"\n\n\"I may not tell ye at this time,\" said he; \"but would to God we had good\ntidings of him.\"\n\nThen Sir Gawain prayed leave to go and seek that knight, which the king\ngladly gave him. So forthwith he mounted and rode many leagues round\nCamelot, but could hear no tidings.\n\nWithin two days thereafter King Arthur and his knights returned from\nCamelot, and Sir Gawain chanced to lodge at Astolat, in the house of Sir\nBernard. And there came in the fair Elaine to him, and prayed him news\nof the tournament, and who won the prize. \"A knight with a white\nshield,\" said he, \"who bare a red sleeve in his helm, smote down all\ncomers and won the day.\"\n\nAt that the visage of Elaine changed suddenly from white to red, and\nheartily she thanked our Lady.\n\nThen said Sir Gawain, \"Know ye that knight?\" and urged her till she told\nhim that it was her sleeve he wore. So Sir Gawain knew it was for love\nthat she had given it; and when he heard she kept his proper shield he\nprayed to see it.\n\nAs soon as it was brought he saw Sir Lancelot's arms thereon, and cried,\n\"Alas! now am I heavier of heart than ever yet.\"\n\n\"Wherefore?\" said fair Elaine.\n\n\"Fair damsel,\" answered he, \"know ye not that the knight ye love is of\nall knights the noblest in the world, Sir Lancelot du Lake? With all my\nheart I pray ye may have joy of each other, but hardly dare I think that\nye shall see him in this world again, for he is so sore wounded he may\nscarcely live, and is gone out of sight where none can find him.\"\n\nThen was Elaine nigh mad with grief and sorrow, and with piteous words\nshe prayed her father that she might go seek Sir Lancelot and her\nbrother. So in the end her father gave her leave, and she departed.\n\nAnd on the morrow came Sir Gawain to the court, and told how he had\nfound Sir Lancelot's shield in Elaine's keeping, and how it was her\nsleeve which he had worn; whereat all marveled, for Sir Lancelot had\ndone for her more than he had ever done for any woman.\n\nBut when Queen Guinevere heard it she was beside herself with wrath, and\nsending privily for Sir Bors, who sorrowed sorely that through him Sir\nLancelot had been hurt--\"Have ye now heard,\" said she, \"how falsely Sir\nLancelot hath betrayed me?\"\n\n\"I beseech thee, madam,\" said he, \"speak not so, for else I may not hear\nthee.\"\n\n\"Shall I not call him traitor,\" cried she, \"who hath worn another lady's\ntoken at the jousting?\"\n\n\"Be sure he did it, madam, for no ill intent,\" replied Sir Bors, \"but\nthat he might be better hidden, for never did he in that wise before.\"\n\n\"Now shame on him, and thee who wouldest help him,\" cried the queen.\n\n\"Madam, say what ye will,\" said he; \"but I must haste to seek him, and\nGod send me soon good tidings of him.\"\n\nSo with that he departed to find Sir Lancelot.\n\nNow Elaine had ridden with full haste from Astolat, and come to Camelot,\nand there she sought throughout the country for any news of Lancelot.\nAnd so it chanced that Sir Lavaine was riding near the hermitage to\nexercise his horse, and when she saw him she ran up and cried aloud,\n\"How doth my lord Sir Lancelot fare?\"\n\nThen said Sir Lavaine, marveling greatly, \"How know ye my lord's name,\nfair sister?\"\n\nSo she told him how Sir Gawain had lodged with Sir Bernard, and knew Sir\nLancelot's shield.\n\nThen prayed she to see his lord forthwith, and when she came to the\nhermitage and found him lying there sore sick and bleeding, she swooned\nfor sorrow. Anon, as she revived, Sir Lancelot kissed her, and said,\n\"Fair maid, I pray ye take comfort, for, by God's grace, I shall be\nshortly whole of this wound, and if ye be come to tend me, I am heartily\nbounden to your great kindness.\" Yet was he sore vexed to hear Sir\nGawain had discovered him, for he knew Queen Guinevere would be full\nwroth because of the red sleeve.\n\nSo Elaine rested in the hermitage, and ever night and day she watched\nand waited on Sir Lancelot, and would let none other tend him. And as\nshe saw him more, the more she set her love upon him, and could by no\nmeans withdraw it. Then said Sir Lancelot to Sir Lavaine, \"I pray thee\nset some to watch for the good knight Sir Bors, for as he hurt me, so\nwill he surely seek for me.\"\n\nNow Sir Bors by this time had come to Camelot, and was seeking for Sir\nLancelot everywhere, so Sir Lavaine soon found him, and brought him to\nthe hermitage.\n\nAnd when he saw Sir Lancelot pale and feeble, he wept for pity and\nsorrow that he had given him that grievous wound. \"God send thee a right\nspeedy cure, dear lord,\" said he; \"for I am of all men most unhappy to\nhave wounded thee, who art our leader, and the noblest knight in all the\nworld.\"\n\n\"Fair cousin,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"be comforted, for I have but gained\nwhat I sought, and it was through pride that I was hurt, for had I\nwarned ye of my coming it had not been; wherefore let us speak of other\nthings.\"\n\nSo they talked long together, and Sir Bors told him of the queen's\nanger. Then he asked Sir Lancelot, \"Was it from this maid who tendeth\nyou so lovingly ye had the token?\"\n\n\"Yea,\" said Sir Lancelot; \"and would I could persuade her to withdraw\nher love from me.\"\n\n\"Why should ye do so?\" said Sir Bors; \"for she is passing fair and\nloving. I would to heaven ye could love her.\"\n\n\"That may not be,\" replied he; \"but it repenteth me in sooth to grieve\nher.\"\n\nThen they talked of other matters, and of the great jousting at\nAllhallowtide next coming, between King Arthur and the King of North\nWales.\n\n\"Abide with me till then,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"for by that time I trust\nto be all whole again, and we will go together.\"\n\nSo Elaine daily and nightly tending him, within a month he felt so\nstrong he deemed himself full cured. Then on a day, when Sir Bors and\nSir Lavaine were from the hermitage, and the knight-hermit also was gone\nforth, Sir Lancelot prayed Elaine to bring him some herbs from the\nforest.\n\nWhen she was gone he rose and made haste to arm himself, and try if he\nwere whole enough to joust, and mounted on his horse, which was fresh\nwith lack of labor for so long a time. But when he set his spear in the\nrest and tried his armor, the horse bounded and leapt beneath him, so\nthat Sir Lancelot strained to keep him back. And therewith his wound,\nwhich was not wholly healed, burst forth again, and with a mighty groan\nhe sank down swooning on the ground.\n\nAt that came fair Elaine and wept and piteously moaned to see him lying\nso. And when Sir Bors and Sir Lavaine came back, she called them\ntraitors to let him rise, or to know any rumor of the tournament. Anon\nthe hermit returned and was wroth to see Sir Lancelot risen, but within\na while he recovered him from his swoon and staunched the wound. Then\nSir Lancelot told him how he had risen of his own will to assay his\nstrength for the tournament. But the hermit bade him rest and let Sir\nBors go alone, for else would he sorely peril his life. And Elaine,\nwith tears, prayed him in the same wise, so that Sir Lancelot in the end\nconsented.\n\nSo Sir Bors departed to the tournament, and there he did such feats of\narms that the prize was given between him and Sir Gawain, who did like\nvaliantly.\n\nAnd when all was over he came back and told Sir Lancelot, and found him\nso nigh well that he could rise and walk. And within a while thereafter\nhe departed from the hermitage and went with Sir Bors, Sir Lavaine, and\nfair Elaine to Astolat, where Sir Bernard joyfully received them.\n\nBut after they had lodged there a few days Sir Lancelot and Sir Bors\nmust needs depart and return to King Arthur's court.\n\nSo when Elaine knew Sir Lancelot must go, she came to him and said,\n\"Have mercy on me, fair knight, and let me not die for your love.\"\n\nThen said Sir Lancelot, very sad at heart, \"Fair maid, what would ye\nthat I should do for you?\"\n\n\"If I may not be your wife, dear lord,\" she answered, \"I must die.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said he, \"I pray heaven that may not be; for in sooth I may not\nbe your husband. But fain would I show ye what thankfulness I can for\nall your love and kindness to me. And ever will I be your knight, fair\nmaiden; and if it chance that ye shall ever wed some noble knight, right\nheartily will I give ye such a dower as half my lands will bring.\"\n\n\"Alas! what shall that aid me?\" answered she; \"for I must die,\" and\ntherewith she fell to the earth in a deep swoon.\n\nThen was Sir Lancelot passing heavy of heart, and said to Sir Bernard\nand Sir Lavaine, \"What shall I do for her?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said Sir Bernard, \"I know well that she will die for your sake.\"\n\nAnd Sir Lavaine said, \"I marvel not that she so sorely mourneth your\ndeparture, for truly I do as she doth, and since I once have seen you,\nlord, I cannot leave you.\"\n\nSo anon, with a full sorrowful heart, Sir Lancelot took his leave, and\nSir Lavaine rode with him to the court. And King Arthur and the Knights\nof the Round Table joyed greatly to see him whole of his wound, but\nQueen Guinevere was sorely wroth, and neither spake with him nor greeted\nhim.\n\nNow when Sir Lancelot had departed, the Maid of Astolat could neither\neat, nor drink, nor sleep for sorrow; and having thus endured ten days,\nshe felt within herself that she must die.\n\nThen sent she for a holy man, and was shriven and received the\nsacrament. But when he told her she must leave her earthly thoughts, she\nanswered, \"Am I not an earthly woman? What sin is it to love the noblest\nknight of all the world? And, by my truth, I am not able to withstand\nthe love whereof I die; wherefore, I pray the High Father of Heaven to\nhave mercy on my soul.\"\n\nThen she besought Sir Bernard to indite a letter as she should devise,\nand said, \"When I am dead put this within my hand, and dress me in my\nfairest clothes, and lay me in a barge all covered with black samite,\nand steer it down the river till it reach the court. Thus, father, I\nbeseech thee let it be.\"\n\nThen, full of grief, he promised her it should be so. And anon she died,\nand all the household made a bitter lamentation over her.\n\nThen did they as she had desired, and laid her body, richly dressed,\nupon a bed within the barge, and a trusty servant steered it down the\nriver towards the court.\n\nNow King Arthur and Queen Guinevere sat at a window of the palace, and\nsaw the barge come floating with the tide, and marveled what was laid\ntherein, and sent a messenger to see, who, soon returning, prayed them\nto come forth.\n\nWhen they came to the shore they marveled greatly, and the king asked of\nthe serving-man who steered the barge what this might mean. But he made\nsigns that he was dumb, and pointed to the letter in the damsel's hands.\nSo King Arthur took the letter from the hand of the corpse, and found\nthereon written, \"To the noble knight, Sir Lancelot du Lake.\"\n\nThen was Sir Lancelot sent for, and the letter read aloud by a clerk,\nand thus it was written:--\n\n\"Most noble knight, my lord Sir Lancelot, now hath death forever parted\nus. I, whom men call the Maid of Astolat, set my love upon you, and have\ndied for your sake. This is my last request, that ye pray for my soul\nand give me burial. Grant me this, Sir Lancelot, as thou art a peerless\nknight.\"\n\nAt these words the queen and all the knights wept sore for pity.\n\nThen said Sir Lancelot, \"My lord, I am right heavy for the death of this\nfair damsel; and God knoweth that right unwillingly I caused it, for she\nwas good as she was fair, and much was I beholden to her; but she loved\nme beyond measure, and asked me that I could not give her.\"\n\n\"Ye might have shown her gentleness enough to save her life,\" answered\nthe queen.\n\n\"Madam,\" said he, \"she would but be repaid by my taking her to wife, and\nthat I could not grant her, for love cometh of the heart and not by\nconstraint.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" said the king; \"for love is free.\"\n\n\"I pray you,\" said Sir Lancelot, \"let me now grant her last asking, to\nbe buried by me.\"\n\nSo on the morrow, he caused her body to be buried richly and solemnly,\nand ordained masses for her soul, and made great sorrow over her.\n\nThen the queen sent for Sir Lancelot, and prayed his pardon for her\nwrath against him without cause. \"This is not the first time it hath\nbeen so,\" answered he; \"yet must I ever bear with ye, and so do I now\nforgive you.\"\n\nSo Queen Guinevere and Sir Lancelot were made friends again; but anon\nsuch favor did she show him, as in the end brought many evils on them\nboth and all the realm.\n\n\n\n\nXV\n\nTHE WAR BETWEEN ARTHUR AND LANCELOT AND THE PASSING OF ARTHUR\n\n\nWithin a while thereafter was a jousting at the court, wherein Sir\nLancelot won the prize. And two of those he smote down were Sir\nAgravaine, the brother of Sir Gawain, and Sir Modred, his false\nbrother--King Arthur's son by Belisent. And because of his victory they\nhated Sir Lancelot, and sought how they might injure him.\n\nSo on a night, when King Arthur was hunting in the forest, and the queen\nsent for Sir Lancelot to her chamber, they two espied him; and thinking\nnow to make a scandal and a quarrel between Lancelot and the king, they\nfound twelve others, and said Sir Lancelot was ever now in the queen's\nchamber, and King Arthur was dishonored.\n\nThen, all armed, they came suddenly round the queen's door, and cried,\n\"Traitor! now art thou taken.\"\n\n\"Madam, we be betrayed,\" said Sir Lancelot; \"yet shall my life cost\nthese men dear.\"\n\nThen did the queen weep sore, and dismally she cried, \"Alas! there is\nno armor here whereby ye might withstand so many; wherefore ye will be\nslain, and I be burnt for the dread crime they will charge on me.\"\n\nBut while she spake the shouting of the knights was heard without,\n\"Traitor, come forth, for now thou art snared!\"\n\n\"Better were twenty deaths at once than this vile outcry,\" said Sir\nLancelot.\n\nThen he kissed her and said, \"Most noble lady, I beseech ye, as I have\never been your own true knight, take courage; pray for my soul if I be\nnow slain, and trust my faithful friends, Sir Bors and Sir Lavaine, to\nsave you from the fire.\"\n\nBut ever bitterly she wept and moaned, and cried, \"Would God that they\nwould take and slay me, and that thou couldest escape.\"\n\n\"That shall never be,\" said he. And wrapping his mantle round his arm he\nunbarred the door a little space, so that but one could enter.\n\nThen first rushed in Sir Chalaunce, a full strong knight, and lifted up\nhis sword to smite Sir Lancelot; but lightly he avoided him, and struck\nSir Chalaunce, with his hand, such a sore buffet on the head as felled\nhim dead upon the floor.\n\nThen Sir Lancelot pulled in his body and barred the door again, and\ndressed himself in his armor, and took his drawn sword in his hand.\n\nBut still the knights cried mightily without the door, \"Traitor, come\nforth!\"\n\n\"Be silent and depart,\" replied Sir Lancelot; \"for be ye sure ye will\nnot take me, and to-morrow will I meet ye face to face before the king.\"\n\n\"Ye shall have no such grace,\" they cried; \"but we will slay thee, or\ntake thee as we list.\"\n\n\"Then save yourselves who may,\" he thundered, and therewith suddenly\nunbarred the door and rushed forth at them. And at the first blow he\nslew Sir Agravaine, and after him twelve other knights, with twelve more\nmighty buffets. And none of all escaped him save Sir Modred, who, sorely\nwounded, flew away for life.\n\nThen returned he to the queen, and said, \"Now, madam, will I depart, and\nif ye be in any danger I pray ye come to me.\"\n\n\"Surely will I stay here, for I am queen,\" she answered; \"yet if\nto-morrow any harm come to me I trust to thee for rescue.\"\n\n\"Have ye no doubt of me,\" said he, \"for ever while I live am I your own\ntrue knight.\"\n\nTherewith he took his leave, and went and told Sir Bors and all his\nkindred of this adventure. \"We will be with thee in this quarrel,\" said\nthey all; \"and if the queen be sentenced to the fire, we certainly will\nsave her.\"\n\nMeanwhile Sir Modred, in great fear and pain, fled from the court, and\nrode until he found King Arthur, and told him all that had befallen. But\nthe king would scarce believe him till he came and saw the bodies of Sir\nAgravaine and all the other knights.\n\nThen felt he in himself that all was true, and with his passing grief\nhis heart nigh broke. \"Alas!\" cried he, \"now is the fellowship of the\nRound Table forever broken: yea, woe is me! I may not with my honor\nspare my queen.\"\n\nAnon it was ordained that Queen Guinevere should be burned to death,\nbecause she had dishonored King Arthur.\n\nBut when Sir Gawain heard thereof, he came before the king, and said,\n\"My lord, I counsel thee be not too hasty in this matter, but stay the\njudgment of the queen a season, for it may well be that Sir Lancelot was\nin her chamber for no evil, seeing she is greatly beholden to him for so\nmany deeds done for her sake, and peradventure she had sent to him to\nthank him, and did it secretly that she might avoid slander.\"\n\nBut King Arthur answered, full of grief, \"Alas! I may not help her; she\nis judged as any other woman.\"\n\nThen he required Sir Gawain and his brethren, Sir Gaheris and Sir\nGareth, to be ready to bear the queen to-morrow to the place of\nexecution.\n\n\"Nay, noble lord,\" replied Sir Gawain, \"that can I never do; for neither\nwill my heart suffer me to see the queen die, nor shall men ever say I\nwas of your counsel in this matter.\"\n\nThen said his brother, \"Ye may command us to be there, but since it is\nagainst our will, we will be without arms, that we may do no battle\nagainst her.\"\n\nSo on the morrow was Queen Guinevere led forth to die by fire, and a\nmighty crowd was there, of knights and nobles, armed and unarmed. And\nall the lords and ladies wept sore at that piteous sight. Then was she\nshriven by a priest, and the men came nigh to bind her to the stake and\nlight the fire.\n\nAt that Sir Lancelot's spies rode hastily and told him and his kindred,\nwho lay hidden in a wood hard by; and suddenly, with twenty knights, he\nrushed into the midst of all the throng to rescue her.\n\nBut certain of King Arthur's knights rose up and fought with them, and\nthere was a full great battle and confusion. And Sir Lancelot drave\nfiercely here and there among the press, and smote on every side, and at\nevery blow struck down a knight, so that many were slain by him and his\nfellows.\n\nThen was the queen set free, and caught up on Sir Lancelot's saddle and\nfled away with him and all his company to the Castle of La Joyous Garde.\n\nNow so it chanced that, in the turmoil of the fighting, Sir Lancelot had\nunawares struck down and slain the two good knights Sir Gareth and Sir\nGaheris, knowing it not, for he fought wildly, and saw not that they\nwere unarmed.\n\nWhen King Arthur heard thereof, and of all that battle, and the rescue\nof the queen, he sorrowed heavily for those good knights, and was\npassing wroth with Lancelot and the queen.\n\nBut when Sir Gawain heard of his brethren's death he swooned for sorrow\nand wrath, for he wist that Sir Lancelot had killed them in malice. And\nas soon as he recovered he ran in to the king, and said, \"Lord king and\nuncle, hear this oath which now I swear, that from this day I will not\nfail Sir Lancelot till one of us hath slain the other. And now, unless\nye haste to war with him, that we may be avenged, will I myself alone go\nafter him.\"\n\nThen the king, full of wrath and grief, agreed thereto, and sent letters\nthroughout the realm to summon all his knights, and went with a vast\narmy to besiege the Castle of La Joyous Garde. And Sir Lancelot, with\nhis knights, mightily defended it; but never would he suffer any to go\nforth and attack one of the king's army, for he was right loth to fight\nagainst him.\n\nSo when fifteen weeks were passed, and King Arthur's army wasted itself\nin vain against the castle, for it was passing strong, it chanced upon a\nday Sir Lancelot was looking from the walls and espied King Arthur and\nSir Gawain close beside.\n\n\"Come forth, Sir Lancelot,\" said King Arthur right fiercely, \"and let us\ntwo meet in the midst of the field.\"\n\n\"God forbid that I should encounter with thee, lord, for thou didst make\nme a knight,\" replied Sir Lancelot.\n\nThen cried Sir Gawain, \"Shame on thee, traitor and false knight, yet be\nye well assured we will regain the queen and slay thee and thy company;\nyea, double shame on ye to slay my brother Gaheris unarmed, Sir Gareth\nalso, who loved ye so well. For that treachery, be sure I am thine enemy\ntill death.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" cried Sir Lancelot, \"that I hear such tidings, for I knew not I\nhad slain those noble knights, and right sorely now do I repent it with\na heavy heart. Yet abate thy wrath, Sir Gawain, for ye know full well I\ndid it by mischance, for I loved them ever as my own brothers.\"\n\n\"Thou liest, false recreant,\" cried Sir Gawain, fiercely.\n\nAt that Sir Lancelot was wroth, and said, \"I well see thou art now mine\nenemy, and that there can be no more peace with thee, or with my lord\nthe king, else would I gladly give back the queen.\"\n\nThen the king would fain have listened to Sir Lancelot, for more than\nall his own wrong did he grieve at the sore waste and damage of the\nrealm, but Sir Gawain persuaded him against it, and ever cried out\nfoully on Sir Lancelot.\n\nWhen Sir Bors and the other knights of Lancelot's party heard the fierce\nwords of Sir Gawain, they were passing wroth, and prayed to ride forth\nand be avenged on him, for they were weary of so long waiting to no\ngood. And in the end Sir Lancelot, with a heavy heart, consented.\n\nSo on the morrow the hosts on either side met in the field, and there\nwas a great battle. And Sir Gawain prayed his knights chiefly to set\nupon Sir Lancelot; but Sir Lancelot commanded his company to forbear\nKing Arthur and Sir Gawain.\n\nSo the two armies jousted together right fiercely, and Sir Gawain\nproffered to encounter with Sir Lionel, and overthrew him. But Sir Bors\nand Sir Blamor, and Sir Palomedes, who were on Sir Lancelot's side, did\ngreat feats of arms, and overthrew many of King Arthur's knights.\n\nThen the king came forth against Sir Lancelot, but Sir Lancelot forbore\nhim and would not strike again.\n\nAt that Sir Bors rode up against the king and smote him down. But Sir\nLancelot cried, \"Touch him not on pain of thy head,\" and going to King\nArthur he alighted and gave him his own horse, saying, \"My lord, I pray\nthee forbear this strife, for it can bring to neither of us any honor.\"\n\nAnd when King Arthur looked on him the tears came to his eyes as he\nthought of his noble courtesy, and he said within himself, \"Alas! that\never this war began.\"\n\nBut on the morrow Sir Gawain led forth the army again, and Sir Bors\ncommanded on Sir Lancelot's side. And they two struck together so\nfiercely that both fell to the ground sorely wounded; and all the day\nthey fought till night fell, and many were slain on both sides, yet in\nthe end neither gained the victory.\n\nBut by now the fame of this fierce war spread through all Christendom,\nand when the Pope heard thereof he sent a Bull, and charged King Arthur\nto make peace with Lancelot, and receive back Queen Guinevere; and for\nthe offense imputed to her absolution should be given by the Pope.\n\nThereto would King Arthur straightway have obeyed, but Sir Gawain ever\nurged him to refuse.\n\nWhen Sir Lancelot heard thereof, he wrote thus to the king: \"It was\nnever in my thought, lord, to withhold thy queen from thee; but since\nshe was condemned for my sake to death, I deemed it but a just and\nknightly part to rescue her therefrom; wherefore I recommend me to your\ngrace, and within eight days will I come to thee and bring the queen in\nsafety.\"\n\nThen, within eight days, as he had said, Sir Lancelot rode from out the\ncastle with Queen Guinevere, and a hundred knights for company, each\ncarrying an olive branch, in sign of peace. And so they came to the\ncourt, and found King Arthur sitting on his throne, with Sir Gawain and\nmany other knights around him. And when Sir Lancelot entered with the\nqueen, they both kneeled down before the king.\n\nAnon Sir Lancelot rose and said, \"My lord, I have brought hither my lady\nthe queen again, as right requireth, and by commandment of the Pope and\nyou. I pray ye take her to your heart again and forget the past. For\nmyself I may ask nothing, and for my sin I shall have sorrow and sore\npunishment; yet I would to heaven I might have your grace.\"\n\nBut ere the king could answer, for he was moved with pity at his words,\nSir Gawain cried aloud, \"Let the king do as he will, but be sure, Sir\nLancelot, thou and I shall never be accorded while we live, for thou has\nslain my brethren traitorously and unarmed.\"\n\n\"As heaven is my help,\" replied Sir Lancelot, \"I did it ignorantly, for\nI loved them well, and while I live I shall bewail their death; but to\nmake war with me were no avail, for I must needs fight with thee if thou\nassailest, and peradventure I might kill thee also, which I were right\nloth to do.\"\n\n\"I will forgive thee never,\" cried Sir Gawain, \"and if the king\naccordeth with thee he shall lose my service.\"\n\nThen the knights who stood near tried to reconcile Sir Gawain to Sir\nLancelot, but he would not hear them. So, at the last, Sir Lancelot\nsaid, \"Since peace is vain, I will depart, lest I bring more evil on my\nfellowship.\"\n\nAnd as he turned to go, the tears fell from him, and he said, \"Alas,\nmost noble Christian realm, which I have loved above all others, now\nshall I see thee never more!\" Then said he to the queen, \"Madam, now\nmust I leave ye and this noble fellowship forever. And, I beseech ye,\npray for me, and if ye ever be defamed of any, let me hear thereof, and\nas I have been ever thy true knight in right and wrong, so will I be\nagain.\"\n\nWith that he kneeled and kissed King Arthur's hands, and departed on his\nway. And there was none in all that court, save Sir Gawain alone, but\nwept to see him go.\n\nSo he returned with all his knights to the Castle of La Joyous Garde,\nand, for his sorrow's sake, he named it Dolorous Garde thenceforth.\n\nAnon he left the realm, and went with many of his fellowship beyond the\nsea to France, and there divided all his lands among them equally, he\nsharing but as the rest.\n\nAnd from that time forward peace had been between him and King Arthur,\nbut for Sir Gawain, who left the king no rest, but constantly persuaded\nhim that Lancelot was raising mighty hosts against him.\n\nSo in the end his malice overcame the king, who left the government in\ncharge of Modred, and made him guardian of the queen, and went with a\ngreat army to invade Sir Lancelot's lands.\n\nYet Sir Lancelot would make no war upon the king, and sent a message to\ngain peace on any terms King Arthur chose. But Sir Gawain met the herald\nere he reached the king, and sent him back with taunting and bitter\nwords. Whereat Sir Lancelot sorrowfully called his knights together and\nfortified the Castle of Benwicke, and there was shortly besieged by the\narmy of King Arthur.\n\nAnd every day Sir Gawain rode up to the walls, and cried out foully on\nSir Lancelot, till, upon a time, Sir Lancelot answered him that he would\nmeet him in the field and put his boasting to the proof. So it was\nagreed on both sides that there should none come nigh them or separate\nthem till one had fallen or yielded; and they two rode forth.\n\nThen did they wheel their horses apart, and turning, came together as it\nhad been thunder, so that both horses fell, and both their lances broke.\nAt that they drew their swords and set upon each other fiercely, with\npassing grievous strokes.\n\nNow Sir Gawain had through magic a marvelous great gift. For every day,\nfrom morning till noon, his strength waxed to the might of seven men,\nbut after that waned to his natural force. Therefore till noon he gave\nSir Lancelot many mighty buffets, which scarcely he endured. Yet greatly\nhe forbore Sir Gawain, for he was aware of his enchantment, and smote\nhim slightly till his own knights marveled. But after noon Sir Gawain's\nstrength sank fast, and then, with one full blow, Sir Lancelot laid him\non the earth. Then Sir Gawain cried out, \"Turn not away, thou traitor\nknight, but slay me if thou wilt, or else I will arise and fight with\nthee again some other time.\"\n\n\"Sir knight,\" replied Sir Lancelot, \"I never yet smote a fallen man.\"\n\nAt that they bore Sir Gawain sorely wounded to his tent, and King Arthur\nwithdrew his men, for he was loth to shed the blood of so many knights\nof his own fellowship.\n\nBut now came tidings to King Arthur from across the sea, which caused\nhim to return in haste. For thus the news ran, that no sooner was Sir\nModred set up in his regency, than he had forged false tidings from\nabroad that the king had fallen in a battle with Sir Lancelot. Whereat\nhe had proclaimed himself the king, and had been crowned at Canterbury,\nwhere he had held a coronation feast for fifteen days. Then he had gone\nto Winchester, where Queen Guinevere abode, and had commanded her to be\nhis wife; whereto, for fear and sore perplexity, she had feigned\nconsent, but, under pretext of preparing for the marriage, had fled in\nhaste to London and taken shelter in the Tower, fortifying it and\nproviding it with all manner of victuals, and defending it against Sir\nModred, and answering to all his threats that she would rather slay\nherself than be his queen.\n\nThus was it written to King Arthur. Then, in passing great wrath and\nhaste, he came with all his army swiftly back from France and sailed to\nEngland. But when Sir Modred heard thereof, he left the Tower and\nmarched with all his host to meet the king at Dover.\n\nThen fled Queen Guinevere to Amesbury to a nunnery, and there she\nclothed herself in sackcloth, and spent her time in praying for the king\nand in good deeds and fasting. And in that nunnery evermore she lived,\nsorely repenting and mourning for her sin, and for the ruin she had\nbrought on all the realm. And there anon she died.\n\nAnd when Sir Lancelot heard thereof, he put his knightly armor off, and\nbade farewell to all his kin, and went a mighty pilgrimage for many\nyears, and after lived a hermit till his death.\n\nWhen Sir Modred came to Dover, he found King Arthur and his army but\njust landed; and there they fought a fierce and bloody battle, and many\ngreat and noble knights fell on both sides.\n\nBut the king's side had the victory, for he was beyond himself with\nmight and passion, and all his knights so fiercely followed him, that,\nin spite of all their multitude, they drove Sir Modred's army back with\nfearful wounds and slaughter, and slept that night upon the\nbattle-field.\n\nBut Sir Gawain was smitten by an arrow in the wound Sir Lancelot gave\nhim, and wounded to the death. Then was he borne to the king's tent,\nand King Arthur sorrowed over him as it had been his own son. \"Alas!\"\nsaid he; \"in Sir Lancelot and in you I had my greatest earthly joy, and\nnow is all gone from me.\"\n\nAnd Sir Gawain answered, with a feeble voice, \"My lord and king, I know\nwell my death is come, and through my own wilfulness, for I am smitten\nin the wound Sir Lancelot gave me. Alas! that I have been the cause of\nall this war, for but for me thou hadst been now at peace with Lancelot,\nand then had Modred never done this treason. I pray ye, therefore, my\ndear lord, be now agreed with Lancelot, and tell him, that although he\ngave me my death-wound, it was through my own seeking; wherefore I\nbeseech him to come back to England, and here to visit my tomb, and pray\nfor my soul.\"\n\nWhen he had thus spoken, Sir Gawain gave up his ghost, and the king\ngrievously mourned for him.\n\nThen they told him that the enemy had camped on Barham Downs, whereat,\nwith all his hosts, he straightway marched there, and fought again a\nbloody battle, and overthrew Sir Modred utterly. Howbeit, he raised yet\nanother army, and retreating ever from before the king, increased his\nnumbers as he went, till at the farthest west in Lyonesse, he once more\nmade a stand.\n\nNow, on the night of Trinity Sunday, being the eve of the battle, King\nArthur had a vision, and saw Sir Gawain in a dream, who warned him not\nto fight with Modred on the morrow, else he would be surely slain; and\nprayed him to delay till Lancelot and his knights should come to aid\nhim.\n\nSo when King Arthur woke he told his lords and knights that vision, and\nall agreed to wait the coming of Sir Lancelot. Then a herald was sent\nwith a message of truce to Sir Modred, and a treaty was made that\nneither army should assail the other.\n\nBut when the treaty was agreed upon, and the heralds returned, King\nArthur said to his knights, \"Beware, lest Sir Modred deceive us, for I\nin no wise trust him, and if swords be drawn be ready to encounter!\" And\nSir Modred likewise gave an order, that if any man of the king's army\ndrew his sword, they should begin to fight.\n\nAnd as it chanced, a knight of the king's side was bitten by an adder in\nthe foot, and hastily drew forth his sword to slay it. That saw Sir\nModred, and forthwith commanded all his army to assail the king's.\n\nSo both sides rushed to battle, and fought passing fiercely. And when\nthe king saw there was no hope to stay them, he did right mightily and\nnobly as a king should do, and ever, like a lion, raged in the thickest\nof the press, and slew on the right hand and on the left, till his horse\nwent fetlock deep in blood. So all day long they fought, and stinted not\ntill many a noble knight was slain.\n\nBut the king was passing sorrowful to see his trusty knights lie dead on\nevery side. And at the last but two remained beside him, Sir Lucan, and\nhis brother, Sir Bedivere, and both were sorely wounded.\n\n\"Now am I come to mine end,\" said King Arthur; \"but, lo! that traitor\nModred liveth yet, and I may not die till I have slain him. Now, give me\nmy spear, Sir Lucan.\"\n\n\"Lord, let him be,\" replied Sir Lucan; \"for if ye pass through this\nunhappy day, ye shall be right well revenged upon him. My good lord,\nremember well your dream, and what the spirit of Sir Gawain did\nfore-warn ye.\"\n\n\"Betide me life, betide me death,\" said the king; \"now I see him yonder\nalone, he shall never escape my hands, for at a better vantage shall I\nnever have him.\"\n\n\"God speed you well,\" said Sir Bedivere.\n\nThen King Arthur got his spear in both his hands, and ran towards Sir\nModred, crying, \"Traitor, now is thy death-day come!\" And when Sir\nModred heard his words, and saw him come, he drew his sword and stood to\nmeet him. Then King Arthur smote Sir Modred through the body more than a\nfathom. And when Sir Modred felt he had his death wound, he thrust\nhimself with all his might up to the end of King Arthur's spear, and\nsmote his father, Arthur, with his sword upon the head, so that it\npierced both helm and brain-pan.\n\nAnd therewith Sir Modred fell down stark dead to the earth, and King\nArthur fell down also in a swoon, and swooned many times.\n\nThen Sir Lucan and Sir Bedivere came and bare him away to a little\nchapel by the sea-shore. And there Sir Lucan sank down with the\nbleeding of his own wounds, and fell dead.\n\nAnd King Arthur lay long in a swoon, and when he came to himself, he\nfound Sir Lucan lying dead beside him, and Sir Bedivere weeping over the\nbody of his brother.\n\nThen said the king to Sir Bedivere, \"Weeping will avail no longer, else\nwould I grieve forevermore. Alas! now is the fellowship of the Round\nTable dissolved forever, and all my realm I have so loved is wasted with\nwar. But my time hieth fast, wherefore take thou Excalibur, my good\nsword, and go therewith to yonder water-side and throw it in, and bring\nme word what thing thou seest.\"\n\nSo Sir Bedivere departed; but as he went he looked upon the sword, the\nhilt whereof was all inlaid with precious stones exceeding rich. And\npresently he said within himself, \"If I now throw this sword into the\nwater, what good should come of it?\" So he hid the sword among the\nreeds, and came again to the king.\n\n\"What sawest thou?\" said he to Sir Bedivere.\n\n\"Lord,\" said he, \"I saw nothing else but wind and waves.\"\n\n\"Thou hast untruly spoken,\" said the king; \"wherefore go lightly back\nand throw it in, and spare not.\"\n\nThen Sir Bedivere returned again, and took the sword up in his hand; but\nwhen he looked on it, he thought it sin and shame to throw away a thing\nso noble. Wherefore he hid it yet again, and went back to the king.\n\n\"What saw ye?\" said King Arthur.\n\n\"Lord,\" answered he, \"I saw nothing but the water ebbing and flowing.\"\n\n\"Oh, traitor and untrue!\" cried out the king; \"twice hast thou now\nbetrayed me. Art thou called of men a noble knight, and wouldest betray\nme for a jewelled sword? Now, therefore, go again for the last time, for\nthy tarrying hath put me in sore peril of my life, and I fear my wound\nhath taken cold; and if thou do it not this time, by my faith I will\narise and slay thee with my hands.\"\n\nThen Sir Bedivere ran quickly and took up the sword, and went down to\nthe water's edge, and bound the girdle round the hilt and threw it far\ninto the water. And lo! an arm and hand came forth above the water, and\ncaught the sword, and brandished it three times, and vanished.\n\nSo Sir Bedivere came again to the king and told him what he had seen.\n\n\"Help me from hence,\" said King Arthur; \"for I dread me I have tarried\nover long.\"\n\nThen Sir Bedivere took the king up in his arms, and bore him to the\nwater's edge. And by the shore they saw a barge with three fair queens\ntherein, all dressed in black, and when they saw King Arthur they wept\nand wailed.\n\n\"Now put me in the barge,\" said he to Sir Bedivere, and tenderly he did\nso.\n\nThen the three queens received him, and he laid his head upon the lap of\none of them, who cried, \"Alas! dear brother, why have ye tarried so\nlong, for your wound hath taken cold?\"\n\nWith that the barge put from the land, and when Sir Bedivere saw it\ndeparting, he cried with a bitter cry, \"Alas! my lord King Arthur, what\nshall become of me now ye have gone from me?\"\n\n\"Comfort ye,\" said King Arthur, \"and be strong, for I may no more help\nye. I go to the Vale of Avilion to heal me of my grievous wound, and if\nye see me no more, pray for my soul.\"\n\nThen the three queens kneeled down around the king and sorely wept and\nwailed, and the barge went forth to sea, and departed slowly out of Sir\nBedivere's sight.\n\n\nTHE END\n\n\n\n\n\n<pre id=\"pg-footer\">","title":"King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":98567}