{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_45514/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_45514","id":"gutenberg_45514","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45514","summary":null,"tags":["Arthurian Legends","Arthurian romances","Category: Adventure","Category: British Literature","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Gawain (Legendary character) -- Romances"],"text":"SIR GAWAIN\n           AND THE\n         LADY OF LYS\n\n\n        Translated by\n      Jessie L. Weston.\n\n\n        Illustrated by\n     Morris M. Williams.\n\n\n         Published by\n      David Nutt at the\n   Sign of the Phoenix 1907\n\n\n\n\n      ARTHURIAN ROMANCES\n\n   Unrepresented in Malory's\n       \"Morte d'Arthur\"\n\n          _No. VII_\n\n      Sir Gawain and the\n         Lady of Lys\n\n\n\n\nARTHURIAN ROMANCES\n\nUNREPRESENTED IN MALORY'S \"MORTE D'ARTHUR\"\n\n  I. SIR GAWAIN AND THE GREEN KNIGHT.\n    A Middle-English Romance retold in Modern Prose, with\n    Introduction and Notes, by Jessie L. Weston. With Designs by\n    M. M. Crawford. 1898. 2s. net.\n\n  II. TRISTAN AND ISEULT.\n    Rendered into English from the German of Gottfried of\n    Strassburg by Jessie L. Weston. With Designs by Caroline\n    Watts. Two vols. 1899. 4s. net.\n\n  III. GUINGAMOR, LANVAL, TYOLET, LE BISCLAVERET.\n    Four Lays rendered into English Prose from the French of\n    Marie de France and others by Jessie L. Weston. With Designs\n    by Caroline Watts. 1900. 2s. net.\n\n  IV. MORIEN.\n    Translated for the first time from the original Dutch by\n    Jessie L. Weston. With Frontispiece and Designed Title-Page\n    by Caroline Watts. 1901. 2s. net.\n\n  V. LE BEAUS DESCONNUS. CLIG\u00c8S.\n    Two Old English Metrical Romances rendered into prose by\n    Jessie L. Weston. With Designs by Caroline M. Watts. 1902.\n    2s. net.\n\n  VI. SIR GAWAIN AT THE GRAIL CASTLE.\n    Three Versions from the Conte del Graal, Diu Cr\u00f4ne, and the\n    Prose Lancelot, by Jessie L. Weston. 1903. 2s. net.\n\n  VII. SIR GAWAIN AND THE LADY OF LYS.\n    Translated for the first time from Wauchier de Denain's\n    section of the Conte del Graal by Jessie L. Weston. With\n    Designs by Morris M. Williams. 1907. 2s. net.\n\n\n\n\n  [Illustration: But the child spake no words, but looked up at\n      the glancing sword blades and laughed blithely.]\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\n\n                                        PAGE\n\n    Introduction                          ix\n\n    Sir Gawain and the Lady of Lys         1\n\n    Castle Orguellous                     61\n\n    Notes                                 99\n\n\n\n\nIntroduction\n\n\nThe stories contained in the present volume of _Arthurian Romances_\nare drawn from the same collection of tales as that from which the\nfirst visit of Gawain to the Grail castle, in the preceding volume of\nthe series, is derived. Indeed, the stories follow in close sequence,\nand a glance at the introductory lines of the Grail visit will show\nthat that adventure is placed immediately after the successful\ntermination of the expedition against Chastel Orguellous, which forms\nthe subject of this volume. These stories practically form three\nseparate tales, and are translated almost entirely from the same MS.\nas that used for the Grail visit, the fine _Perceval_ codex B.N.\n12576. With regard to the second adventure a few words of explanation\nare necessary.\n\nThe relations of Gawain with the lady of Lys, recorded in all the\n_Perceval_-Wauchier texts, are as a rule related twice over; in the\nfirst instance in the section which, in my _Perceval_ studies, I have\ncalled the _Brun de Branlant_ section, as it is devoted to Arthur's\nexpedition against that recalcitrant noble. Gawain's meeting with the\nlady takes place, as he here explains, during the siege. Later on, on\nthe expedition against Chastel Orguellous, related in these pages,\nArthur and his knights come all unwittingly to the castle of the\nlady's brother, Bran de Lis, and Gawain, realising the position,\nrelates the story of the first meeting.\n\nNow in the best and fullest texts the two versions do not agree--they\nare, in fact, incapable of being harmonised--and the curious point is\nthat this second version, related by Gawain himself, and included in a\ncollection of tales of which he is the hero, represents his conduct in\na distinctly less favourable light. In the _Studies_ above referred to\nI have entered at length into the question, and have expressed my\nopinion that this second form is really the older, and owes its\nsomewhat repellent character to the fact that it is a survival of a\nvery early, pre-chivalric stage of tradition. It is worthy of note\nthat the subsequent conduct of both brother and sister is precisely\nthe same in both versions; whether Gawain accepts favours freely\nproffered, or takes them by force, Bran de Lis is neither more nor\nless his enemy; whether she wins her heart's desire, or is the victim\nof _force majeure_, his sister is equally Gawain's devoted _amie_. But\nfor purposes of translation the versions do not stand on an equal\nfooting; and, these volumes being intended for the general public, I\nhave preferred to follow the later and, undoubtedly, more sympathetic\nform.\n\nNor is this to take an undue liberty with the text; we are but\nfollowing the example set by certain early copyists. Two MSS., B.N.\n794 and British Museum Add. 36614, give the story on each occasion in\nan identical form. Their text, however, is on the whole far less\ndetailed and interesting than that of B.N. 12576. I have therefore,\nfor the terms of Gawain's recital, and for that only, adopted the\nversion of 794; for the rest the stories are as close a rendering as\nmay be of the text of 12576.\n\nThe first story, _Kay and the Spit_, and the taking of _Chastel\nOrguellous_, all part of one and the same expedition, possess a\nspecial interest for us, in that we have in our English _Gawayne and\nGolagros_ another version of the same tales. Sir Frederick Madden, in\nhis _Syr Gawayne_, drew attention to this, and gave a brief summary of\nthe French text. It seemed to me that the interest of the story\nitself, and its connection with our vernacular literature, were\nsufficient to warrant a full translation being placed at the disposal\nof English readers. For indeed the interest of these stories is great,\nand if I be not mistaken, their importance as yet scarcely realised.\nSince the publication of the last volume of this series we have become\naware of certain facts, small in themselves, but weighty in their\nconnection and _ensemble_, which go to prove that there existed at an\nearly date a collection of poems dealing with the feats of Gawain and\nhis kin, which may be styled _The Geste of Syr Gawayne_, the\nauthorship of which was ascribed to a certain Bleheris. Of this\ncollection the story in vol. i., _Sir Gawain and the Green Knight_;\nthe first visit of Sir Gawain to the Grail castle, in vol. vi.; and\nthe stories here given all formed part, while our English _Gawain_\npoems are a late and fragmentary survival of the same collection.\n\nJudging also from the appearance on the scene of Gawain's son,\nGuinglain, and the numerous allusions in Wauchier's text to the length\nand importance of the _grande conte_ of which these tales formed a\npart, it seems most probable that the original collection included a\nversion of the adventures of the hero we know as _Sir Libeaus\nDesconus_, whose feats will be found recorded in vol. v. of this\nseries. The English poem there modernised says that the hero was\n_begotten by a forest side_, thus apparently identifying him with the\nchild of the picturesque adventure related in these pages. At the same\ntime the adventures summarised by Wauchier--for he gives but little\ndetail concerning Guinglain--do not agree with the English tradition.\nAt a considerably later point of the collection, however, we find the\nyoung knight giving his name in terms which accord completely with our\npoem; on meeting his father,\n\n    Sire, fait il, 'ie sui Giglain\n    Votre fis, qui le roi Artus\n    Mist nom Le Biax Desconeus.\n\nWhich may well refer to the tale we know.\n\nThis is not the place to enter into a discussion of the varying\ntradition connected with Sir Guinglain; the point of interest is\nrather the character of the stories with which we are immediately\ndealing.\n\nThere can, I think, be little doubt that whoever was responsible for\nthe _Geste of Syr Gawayne_, and whether Bleheris, whose name is more\nthan once connected with it, composed, or merely arranged, the poems,\nthey represent a tradition of great poetical force and vitality. The\nadventure with the sister of Bran de Lis is an admirable story,\npicturesque, vivid, and full of human interest. Our _Syr Gawayne and\nthe Grene Knyghte_ is notoriously one of the finest of our Medi\u00e6val\npoems. The visit of Sir Gawain to the Grail castle, related in our\nlast volume, yields in dramatic detail and picturesque directness of\nnarration to no other version of that mysterious story. We can well\nunderstand that, in its original form, the collection must have been\none that appealed forcibly to the imagination of the hearers.\n\nIf any one will glance through these stories consecutively, he cannot\nfail to realise that the character of the hero is the same\nthroughout. Gawain is unfailingly valiant, generous, and courteous,\neven, as we see in our final story, to excess. We realise as we read\nthat, as Professor Maynadier, in his _Wife of Bath's Tale_, has well\npointed out, it is in truth Gawain and not Arthur who was the typical\nEnglish hero.\n\nIs it too much to ask of the students of Malory, fascinated by the\nnoble style in which he has clothed and disguised the real poverty of\nhis _r\u00e9chauff\u00e9e_, that they should for a short time lay him aside, and\nturning back to the true Arthurian legend, learn at last to do justice\nto one of the most gracious and picturesque figures in literature--a\nfigure to which gross injustice has been done--that, rejecting\nMalory's libel, they do tardy justice to our own insular hero--for not\nthe most fanatical partisan of the Continental school has ever\nventured to claim him--to the true Sir Gawain? Then, perhaps, we may\nhave a demand for his real story, and it may be possible once more to\nrejoice the hearts of our English folk with a restored and modern\nrendering of the _Geste of Syr Gawayne_, even as Bleheris told it well\nnigh a thousand years ago. If that day ever come neither author nor\nhero will need any apology on the part of the translator!\n\n    Paris, _February 1907_.\n\n\n\n\nSir Gawain and the Lady of Lys\n\n\nHearken to me and ye shall hear how the good King Arthur and his\nknights went forth to the wood for archery, and how at vesper-tide\nthey gat them homeward right joyfully.\n\nThe knights rode gaily ahead, holding converse the one with the other,\nand behind them came the king, on a tall and prancing steed. He ware\nno robe of state, but a short coat, which became him right well.\n\nBehind all his men he rode, pensive and frowning, as one lost in\nthought. And as he thus lagged behind Sir Gawain looked back, and saw\nthe king riding alone and pensive, and he bade his comrades draw rein\nand wait for their lord. And as the king came anigh he drew his steed\nbeside him, and stretched out his hand, laughing, and laid hold on the\nbridle, and said, \"Sire, tell us, for the love of God, of what ye may\nnow be thinking? Sire, your thoughts should be of naught but good,\nfor there is no prince in this world equal to ye in valour or in\nhonour, therefore should ye be very joyful!\"\n\nThe king made answer courteously, \"Fair nephew, an I may be joyful I\nwill tell ye truly that whereon I thought. There is no king living on\nearth who hath had such good and such great service from his men as I;\nit seemeth to me now right and fitting that I should give to them that\nwhich they have deserved for the toil they have suffered for me,\nwhereby I be come to such high estate. Fair nephew, I bethought me\nthat my riches would avail little if through sloth I failed to reward\nthe good service of these my knights, who have made me everywhere to\nbe obeyed and honoured. Now without delay will I tell ye that I am\nminded to hold, at Pentecost, a far greater court than is my wont, and\nto give to each and all such gifts as shall be well pleasing to them,\nso that each may be glad and joyful, and ever hereafter of good will\ntowards me.\"\n\nSwiftly, and before all the others, Sir Gawain made answer, \"Fair\nSire, blessed be the thought into which ye have fallen, for 'tis so\nfair and so good that neither kaiser nor king nor count might think a\nbetter.\"\n\nAnd the king asked, \"Nephew, tell me straightway where do ye counsel\nthat this my court be held?\"\n\n\"Sire, at Carnarvon; there let all your knighthood assemble, for there\nis not in all your kingdom a fairer place, nor nobler halls, and it\nlieth in the marches of Wales, and of the land of Britain.\"\n\nThe king and all his company rode back joyfully, and that selfsame\nnight did the king Arthur give command that all the knights and all\nthe barons throughout the land should be summoned by letter to come to\nhim at Pentecost.\n\nThat great knighthood came thither, that famous knighthood came\nthither, even so have I heard, and assembled for this court at\nCarnarvon.\n\nAh God! from what far-off lands did they come. Thither were come the\nmen of Ireland, and of Scotland, of Iceland, of Wales, and of Galvoie\n(a land where many a man goeth astray). From Logres they came, and\nfrom Escavalon; men of Norway, Bretons, Danes, and they of Orcanie.\nNever was so great a knighthood assembled at any court as that which\nthe good king Arthur summoned to him.\n\nThe day of the Holy Feast, when he had worn his crown at the high\nprocession, knights and barons conducted him with joy to his palace;\nand therewith Kay, the seneschal, bade them sound the trumpets and\nbring water. First the king washed, and thereafter sat down aloft, on\nthe high da\u00efs, so that all who sat there at meat might see him. Four\nhundred knights, save three, sat themselves down at the Round Table;\nat the second were seated the thirty peers. Crowded were the ranks of\nthe other knights who were seated throughout the hall, as was fitting,\non da\u00efs, and at tables on the ground. Then quickly Kay the seneschal\nbare the first meat, and the service was made throughout the hall, in\njoyful wise, as befitted such high festivity.\n\nNow as the king ate, he looked towards the Round Table, even as one\nwho would take knowledge of all, and by hap his eye fell on the seat\nof a knight good and true, which was void and lacking its rightful\nlord. Then so great a pity and tenderness took him that the tears rose\nfrom his heart to his eyes, and thence welled forth, and he sighed a\ngreat and piteous sigh when he remembered him of that knight. He took\na knife which Yones held (nephew was he to king Ydier, and carved\nbefore Arthur), and, frowning and thoughtful, smote the blade through\nthe bread which lay on the board. Then he rested his head on the one\nhand, even as one whose thoughts are troubled by anger or grief, and\nunheeding, ran the palm of the other adown the sharp knife, so that he\nwas somewhat wounded. At sight of the blood he bethought himself, and\nleft hold of the knife and taking the napkin, wrapped it swiftly\naround his hand, so that they who ate in the hall below might not see.\nAnd with that he fell once more into thought and bowed down his head,\nand as he mused the tears came again to his eyes.\n\nWhen Sir Gawain beheld this he marvelled much, and therein was he\nright, for to all who were in the hall it seemed but folly. Then he\nrose up straightway, and passed between the ranks till that he came\nbefore the da\u00efs, and saw that the king was again lost in thought. He\nhasted not to speak till that he saw him raise his head, but so soon\nas he lifted up his face Sir Gawain spake right courteously; \"Sire,\nSire, 'tis neither right nor fitting that ye should have such wrath or\ndispleasure as should make ye thus moody in the sight of so many high\nand noble barons as ye may see here around ye; rather should their\nsolace and their company please and rejoice ye.\"\n\n\"Gawain, will ye that I tell ye whence came the thought which has made\nme thus sad and silent?\"\n\n\"Yea, Sire, that do I pray of ye.\"\n\n\"Fair nephew, know of a truth that I will tell ye willingly, in the\nhearing of all these good knights. My thoughts were of ye, and of many\nanother whom I see here, of the wickedness of which ye are full, and\nof the envy and the treason long time hid, and now made manifest.\"\nWith that the king held his peace, and said no more.\n\nSir Gawain grew crimson with anger and shame, and throughout the\npalace all held their peace, for much they marvelled that the king\nspake thus evilly to his nephew, calling him in the hearing of all a\ntraitor proven, and all were wroth therefor. Then he to whom the ill\nwords were said answered as best he might, \"Sire, that was an ugly\nword; for your honour bethink ye of what ye have said in the hearing\nof all who be here within.\"\n\n\"Gawain,\" answered the king, \"'tis no empty word, thus of a truth do I\nrepeat it, and Ywain may well take heed and know that I thought of him\nbut now, when I sat silent and pensive, here within have I not one\nsingle comrade whom I do not accuse of treason and too great felony!\"\n\nWith that I know not how many sprang to their feet, and a great\nclamour filled the hall. \"Lords,\" cried Tor fis Ares, \"I conjure ye by\nthe oath which ye and I alike sware to king Arthur that ye restrain\nyourselves, and act as is befitting; he accuses ye all of\ntreason--these be right evil tidings!\" In like wise also spake Sir\nYwain. \"Ah God,\" quoth Sir Gawain, \"with what joy was all this great\ncourt summoned and assembled, and in what grief shall it be broken\nup!\"\n\nThe king heard, and, sighing, spake, \"Gawain, I have spoken but the\ntruth!\"\n\n\"Fair Sire, for the love of God, and for honesty, tell us after what\nmanner and in what fashion we be felon and traitorous?\"\n\nQuoth the king, \"An ye will I will tell ye; now hearken. Ye know of a\ntruth that aforetime there reigned in this land a folk who built\ncastles and cities, strong towers and fortresses, and the great\nChastel Orguellous did they fortify against us. When we heard tell\nthereof ye, my knights, delayed not to go thither, not with my will!\nThere did I lose so many of my folk that the thought thereof yet\ngrieveth my heart; the greater part were slain, but some among them\nwere made captive. They took one of my companions, three years long\nhave they held him in prison, and thereof have I great grief at heart.\nHere within do I see no better knight; he was beyond measure valiant,\nfair of face and form, and very wise was he in counsel. But now, when\nall this great lordship was set down here to meat, I beheld that\nknight's seat void and lacking its lord, and for sorrow and grief was\nmy heart heavy and troubled when I saw him not in his place in your\nranks; it lacked but little that I were distraught. Therefore, my\nlords, do I arraign ye all of treason; Giflet fis Do is he named that\ngood and gentle knight, three whole years have gone by since he was\nimprisoned in that tower, and ye be all traitors who have left your\ncomrade three years and have not sought for or freed him! Yea, and I\nwho have blamed ye, I be even more the traitor in that I ever ware\ncrown, or made joy, or held high feast before I knew if he might be\nrestored to me, or where he now may be, whether dead or living! Now on\nthis have I set my heart,--by the faith I owe to that Heavenly Lord\nwho hath bestowed on me earthly honour, and kingdom, and lands, that\nfor no hap that may befall me will I delay to set forth in search of\nhim, be it in never so distant a land. For verily I tell ye all that\nthe king who loseth so good a knight by wrongful deed or by sloth, he\nhath right neither to lands nor to honour, nor should he live a day\nlonger, an he deliver not that knight who for his honour suffered toil\nand was made captive. In the ears of ye all do I make a vow that I\nwill lie not more than one night in any place till that I know whether\nhe be dead, or may be freed.\"\n\nThen all cried with one voice, \"Shame upon him, Sire, who will not\nplead guilty to this treason, for ye speak with right and reason; by\novermuch sloth have we delayed to ride forth and seek him far hence,\neven at the Chastel Orguellous.\"\n\n\"Lords,\" quoth the king, \"I tell ye here and at once that I shall set\nforth to-morrow, but by the faith that I owe to Saint Germain I must\nneeds proceed with wisdom, for here is force of no avail.\"\n\n\"True, fair Sire,\" answered Sir Gawain. \"Know for sooth that the roads\n'twixt here and the Chastel Orguellous be passing hard and difficult;\n'tis a good fifteen days ere ye be come thither; longer days have ye\nnever ridden! 'Tis best that one tell ye the truth! And when ye be\ncome thither, fair Sire, then shall ye have each day battle, as I know\nright well, one knight against the other, a hundred against a hundred,\nthat shall ye find truly. Now take good counsel for the journey, what\nfolk ye may best take with ye.\"\n\n\"Lords,\" said the king, \"now let us to meat, and afterward will I see\nby aid of your counsel whom I take with me, and whom I leave to guard\nmy land and my folk.\"\n\nWith that all in the palace, great and small, ate as quickly as might\nbe; and so soon as the king saw that 'twas time and place to speak he\nbade remove the cloths, which they did without delay. Thereafter they\nbrought water, and bare round the wine in cups of fine gold. Then, it\nseemeth me, there sprang to their feet at once more than three\nthousand knights, who cried the king mercy, and prayed that he would\ntake them with him on this adventure, for right willingly would they\ngo.\n\n\"Lords,\" quoth the king, \"they whom my barons elect, those will I\ntake, and the others shall remain to keep my kingdom in peace.\"\n\nThen first, before all others, spake king Urien, a very wise knight\nwas he. \"My Lord king, ye have no need to take with ye too great a\nforce; take with ye rather a few, but good, men, so to my thinking\nwill ye more swiftly free Giflet, our good comrade, from his prison.\nTake with ye the best of your knights, 'twill be for your greater\nhonour, and your foes will be the more speedily vanquished; knight\nagainst knight must ye fight there, and I think me that such of their\nmen shall there be worsted that they shall that same day yield ye\nGiflet the good and valiant knight. Have no doubt for the when or how,\nbut bid them make ready. I can but praise the folk who shall go with\nye.\"\n\nThen quoth the king, \"What say ye, Lords? I await your counsel!\"\n\nKing Ydier spake. \"Sire, none of us should give ye praise, or speak\nother than the best he knoweth. Shamed be he who should give ye\ncounsel wherein ye may find no honour. I know full well that the more\npart of your folk would gladly go with ye, but if ye take them, Sire,\n'twill not be for your honour, but believe king Urien, for he hath\ngiven good counsel so I tell ye of a truth.\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith Sir Gawain, \"he would be false and foolish who should\ngive other rede!\" And all said, \"Let it be as the king will; let him\ntake those whom he please, and leave the others in the land.\"\n\n\"Ye have said well,\" said the king; \"now go ye to your lodging, and\nprepare to depart, and I will cause to be made ready a pennon of silk\nfor each of those whom I shall lead with me.\" As he said, so it was\ndone, and all betook them to their lodging.\n\nThe king forthwith sent the pennons, and bade them without fail be\narmed and ahorse at dawn.\n\nWhat more shall I tell ye? At sunrise were all the knights armed, even\nas the king commanded, all they who had received the pennons came\ntogether ahorse before the hall.\n\nNow will I tell ye their names: there were Sir Gawain, king Ydier,\nGuengasoains, Kay, and Lucains, the butler. The sixth was Tors. Then\nSaigremors, and Mabonagrain, who was nephew unto king Urien. Eight\nhave I now named unto ye, counting the kinsman of king Urien. The\nninth was Lancelot du Lac; the tenth Ider, son of Nut; the Laid Hardi,\nthe eleventh; with Doon l'Aiglain have we twelve, all very courteous\nknights. Galegantins the Galois, and the brave Carados Briefbras, who\nwas a right cheery comrade, made fourteen, and the fifteenth was the\ngood Taulas de Rogemont: so many were they, nor more, nor less.\n\nAll ready armed were they before the hall the while they awaited the\nking, ere he came forth armed from his chamber. Then he mounted his\nsteed, and I tell ye that, to my knowledge, was never king so richly\narmed afore, nor ever hereafter shall there be such. The queen bare\nhim company even to the entrance of the palace, then she turned her\nback.\n\nThen the king bade his companions march, and they began to move as\nswiftly as might be on the highway, but so great a folk convoyed them\nthat hardly might they depart or go forth from the burg. And when the\nking had ridden three miles he drew rein in the midst of a meadow, and\nthere he bade farewell to his folk, who, sad and sorrowful, gat them\nback to the burg. And the king and his fifteen comrades rode on their\nway; they passed even through the land of Britain, so I think me, and\nhasted them much to ride quickly.\n\nOne day the king, fasting, came forth from a very great forest, on to\na heath of broom; the sun was hot, and burning, and the country over\nlarge and waste. The king was so wearied by the heat, in that he rode\nfasting, that he had much need of rest, could he but find a fitting\nspot. By chance they found a great tree, where they drew bridle;\nbeneath was a spring, and for heat and for weariness they bared their\nheads and their hands, and washed their faces and their mouths. I know\nwell that one and all had much need of food, but they had naught with\nthem, and all were sore vexed for the king, who suffered over much\nfrom the fast.\n\nSir Gawain gazed into the plain, far below, 'neath the forest, and he\nshowed unto the seneschal a house of thatch, well fenced about; \"Kay,\"\nquoth he, \"methinks under that roof there must be folk!\"\n\n\"'Tis true,\" said Kay; \"I will go and see if I may find victual, and\nye shall await me here.\" With that he departed from them, and went\nstraightway to the house; within he found an old woman, but nothing of\nwhat he sought; food was there none.\n\nThe crone spake and said, \"Sir, so God help me, for twenty miles round\nabout are naught but waste lands, know that well, save only that the\nking of Meliolant has built there below 'neath the trees a forest\nlodge. He cometh thither ofttimes privately with his hounds. There,\nSir, will ye be well lodged, an ye find him; from that tree yonder may\nye see the house on the hill.\"\n\nThe seneschal straightway went even as the crone had said, and he saw\nthe dwelling, right well enclosed with orchards, vineyards and\nmeadows. Ponds were there, lands, and fish-tanks, all well fenced\nabout. In the midst was a tower; ye might ask no better, no defence\nwas lacking to it. Beholding it the seneschal stayed not, but passed\nthe roadway, and the gate, and the chief drawbridge, and thus came to\nthe foot of the tower. There did he dismount, but he found no living\nsoul of whom he might ask concerning the dwelling and who might be\nwithin. Then he entered a hall, very high and long and wide. On a\ngreat hearth he saw a goodly fire alight, but he found no man save a\ndwarf, who was roasting a fat peacock ('twere hard to find a better!),\nwell larded, on a spit of apple-wood, which the dwarf knew right well\nhow to turn.\n\nKay came forward quickly, and the dwarf beheld him with evil\ncountenance. \"Dwarf,\" quoth the seneschal, \"tell me if there be any\nhere within save thyself?\" But the wretch would not speak a word.\n\nKay would have slain him there and then, if he had not thought to be\nshamed thereby, but he knew right well that twere too great villainy.\n\n\"Miserable hunchback,\" quoth he, \"I see none here in this house save\nthee and this peacock, which I will now have for my dinner; I will\nshare it as shall seem me good.\"\n\n\"By the King Who lieth not,\" quoth the dwarf, \"ye shall neither eat\nthereof yourself nor share it with others; I counsel you to quit this\nhostel, or know ye well, and without doubt, that ye shall be right\nshamefully thrust out!\"\n\nThis vexed Kay mightily, and he sprang forward to smite him; with his\nfoot he thrust him against the pillar of the hearth so that the stone\nthereof became bloody. The dwarf bled freely for the heat, and made\nloud lament, for he feared lest he should be slain.\n\nThen on the left the seneschal heard a door shut-to sharply, and there\ncame forth a knight, tall and strong, and of proud countenance, and\nvery fair and goodly to look upon; he might not be above thirty years\nold. He ware a vest of new samite, furred with ermine for warmth;\n'twas not long, but wide, and of ample folds. Thus was he well clad\nand cunningly shod; and I tell ye truly that he ware a fair girdle of\ngolden links; no treasury hath a richer. All uncovered he came forth,\nin guise of a man greatly wroth, leading two greyhounds by a fair\nleash of silk which he held in his hand. When he saw that his dwarf\nbled, he spake, \"Ye who be come all armed into this hall, wherefore\nhave ye slain this my servant?\"\n\n\"A curse upon such a servant,\" quoth Kay, \"from this day on, for in\nall the world is there not one so evil, so small, or so misshapen!\"\n\nThen the knight answered, \"By all the saints, but ye say ill, and I\nchallenge ye for it, fair sir.\"\n\nQuoth the seneschal, \"Many a goodly knight have I seen, to the full as\nnoble as ye may be, and ye be evil and vexatious, even if I have\nsmitten this servant who roasted here this peacock, to speak thus\nconcerning the matter.\"\n\nThe knight answered frankly, \"Sir, ye speak not courteously, but for\nGod's sake I would ask ye a mere nothing, even that ye vouchsafe to\ntell me your name.\"\n\nKay spake in great wrath, \"I will tell ye willingly, so help me God I\nhave told it ere this to five hundred knights better than ye be; know\nof a truth that my name is Kay.\"\n\n\"Certes, sir, I may well believe that ye speak truly; by your speech\nalone may one quickly know ye. This lad refused ye the peacock; 'tis\nnot the custom of my house that meat be refused to any who may ask\nfor it; ye shall have your share of the peacock, and that right\nswiftly, so God help me!\" With that he seized the spit, and raised it\naloft, and with great strength and force smote Sir Kay therewith, so\nthat he well nigh slew him, and know that he smote him on the neck so\nthat he must needs fall, he had no foot so firm that it might keep him\nupright. And as the peacock burst asunder, the hot blood thereof ran\nbetween the links of his hauberk in such wise that Sir Kay bare the\nmark thereof all the days of his life. Then the knight threw the\npeacock to his two hounds, and spake, \"Sir Kay, rise, that be your\nshare, ye shall have no more; now get out of my sight quickly, I am\nover wroth when I behold ye!\"\n\nWith that came quickly two sergeants, fully armed, and led the\nseneschal forth from the hall. He mounted his steed, and turned him\nback, passing the bridge and the plain, and came to where the king had\ndismounted.\n\nThen his comrades asked him, \"Seneschal, have ye found nothing of that\nwhich ye went to seek?\"\n\n\"Not I, my lords; 'tis a right evil land here wherein to seek for\nfood; it behoveth us to ride far, for here may we find nor hostelry,\nnor victual--so hath it been told to me.\"\n\nQuoth Sir Gawain, laughing, \"Certes, he with whom ye spake lives by\nmeat, even as we; without meat might he not dwell in this great and\nwell wooded land.\"\n\n\"By my faith, no,\" answered Kay, \"but I tell ye truly, 'tis so proud a\nvassal that for naught that we may say will he give us shelter.\"\n\nThe king said, \"Then is he right discourteous, and I counsel that we\nsend Gawain to him. Fair nephew, go, and we will wait ye here.\"\n\nSir Gawain mounted forthwith. What more shall I tell ye save that he\ncame straight to the dwelling, and when the knight saw him he made\nmarvellous joy of him, and asked his name, and he answered that men\ncalled him Gawain, and straightway the knight knew him.\n\nThen he told him his errand, saying, \"The king is not far distant, and\nwould fain lodge with ye.\" This was well pleasing to the knight, and\nhe said, \"Fair Sir, go, bring the king hither.\"\n\nThen Sir Gawain rode swiftly back, and brought Arthur with him to the\nhostel; but ere they might enter all the waters were set free and the\nfountains 'gan to play. For joy and in honour of the king the knight\nhad assembled all his folk, and received him with very great honour,\nand led him into the tower. The hounds were yet there, devouring the\nflesh of the peacock. The king looked at Taulas, and quoth, \"Body of\nSaint Thomas, these two hounds have fared better than we to-day!\" The\nknight heard, and laughed to himself. Kay saw that, but said naught.\n\nFrom thence they passed into the hall, and when they had disarmed the\nmeat was made ready, the knight bade bring white napkins, and pasties.\nAfter dinner he made them wash their heads, and their necks, and their\nfeet, which were sorely bruised. Then he caused them to rest in fair\nbeds, covered with cloth of samite, and they slept even to the morrow\nwithout stirring. But when they were awakened the host had prepared\nfor them a right plenteous meal, this he did of his good will. They\nsat them down joyfully, and were richly served. I would weary ye if I\ntold all the dishes. The knights made much mirth of the seneschal's\nburn, for the dwarf would not keep the tale secret from them, but\nbegan to speak thereof. Never would it have been known through Kay, if\nthe dwarf had not brought it to mind, for he was over bent on hiding\nit, and the host even more than he; all that night his comrades mocked\nand made sport of him even till they betook them to rest.\n\nNext morn, without delay, the king arose at daybreak, and likewise did\nall the others, and armed themselves. Then the king thanked his host\nfor the good lodging he had given them.\n\nWhy should I make long telling thereof? The king saith, \"Hide not from\nme how ye be called.\"\n\n\"Sire, my name is Ydier the fair, and, Sire, this castle is mine own.\"\n\nThen Ydier prayed the king that of his kindness he would take him with\nhim, but Arthur said he might not lead with him other save those whom\nhe had brought from his own land; and he took leave of the knight\nsince he might no longer abide in his hostelry, and went forth with\nhis companions.\n\nThe tale is here over long, but I will shorten it for ye. Two days did\nthey ride without food, for they might not sooner find place where\nthey might win food or seek lodging. Thus must they needs ride till\nthey came to the Orchard of the Sepulchres, where adventures be found\noft and perilous. There they ate with the hermits, of whom there were\na hundred and more. Here 'tis not fitting to tell of the marvels of\nthe cemetery, so diverse they be, and so great that there is no man\nliving on earth who could think, or believe, that the tale be true.\nSince 'twas made and established never has the tale been told whence\ncame those graves, nor the custom which the hermits observed; to my\nmind 'twould take too long did I tell it ye ere the fitting time and\nplace be come. But this will I tell ye of a truth, when the king had\nsojourned two days, and beheld the Orchard, on the third, after meat,\nhe departed, and took the road once more.\n\nOn the morrow he came to a wondrous fair land; small need to seek a\nricher in meadows, forests, or orchards planted with rare and diverse\ntrees. In the forest ways the grass grew green and tall, reaching even\nto the horses' girths. Towards even-tide they came to a trodden way,\nwhere the tall grass was beaten to earth, and trampled down by horses,\neven for the length of a bowshot. \"A hundred and more have passed this\nway,\" quoth the king's men.\n\nSir Gawain spake to the king, \"Fair Sire, follow me gently with these\nmy comrades on this wide road. I will ride on ahead, and seek out, and\nask whether there be near at hand hostel where we may lodge this\nnight, for of lodging have we great need. Yet, Sire, I pray that ye\nleave not the road for word of any.\"\n\nWith that he set spurs to his steed, and rode swiftly on his way; nor\nhad he ridden long ere he was free of the forest, and saw before him a\nhill, and a company of well-nigh a hundred horsemen, who rode in\nknightly guise; 'twas on their track he followed.\n\nSir Gawain pressed on his steed, but when he had crossed the valley\nand mounted the hill there was never a man in sight. But he saw before\nhim a castle; none so fair had he beheld afore, which stood on the\nbank of a broad river; 'twould take me over long to tell the fashion\nthereof, but this and no more will I say, 'twas the fairest ever seen.\n\nThen Sir Gawain looked toward the river, and beheld two maidens, in\nvery fair vesture of purple, bearing pitchers of fine gold, wherein\nthey had drawn water, and he quoth, \"Maidens, God save ye, and give ye\ngood speed!\" and they answered, as was fitting, \"Fair sir, God bless\nye!\"\n\n\"Maidens, by the faith ye owe me answer me, and hide it not, what bear\nye in those pitchers?\"\n\nQuoth the one, \"No need have we to hide aught; 'tis but water,\nwherewith the good knight shall wash his hands.\"\n\n\"Of a faith,\" quoth Sir Gawain, \"courteously have ye named him; great\nhonour is there in such a name!\"\n\nThe second maiden answered, \"Sir, she hath spoken truth; ye will not\nlightly find a fairer, or a better, knight. See, but now doth he enter\nwithin his burg.\"\n\nThen Sir Gawain hasted, and spake no more with the maidens, but rode\nover the bridge, and entered the castle by the gateway. Since the hour\nof his birth never had he seen one so fair, nor, I think me, so long\nas he live shall he see a fairer. All the way by which he passed was\nhung with curtains richly wrought, whereat he marvelled strangely.\n'Twas closed all along with fair buildings of diverse fashions. In\nlong rows adown the street Sir Gawain beheld rich booths of changers,\nwherein on many-coloured carpets were set forth vessels of gold and\nsilver (no treasury ever held richer), cups, tankards, and dishes, the\nfairest ever seen, with money of all lands: esterlins, besants,\ndeniers of Africa, and treasure trove. Every kind of money was there,\nand much the good knight marvelled thereat.\n\nStuffs there were too, of all colours, the cost whereof was past his\ntelling. All the doors stood open; but one thing troubled Sir Gawain\nsore: there was never a living soul to be seen.\n\nThen he said within himself, \"Of a sooth, for love and kindness do\nthey bear their lord, who but now hath entered the burg, company to\nthe little castle yonder.\" Thus he went his way straight to that\ncastle, and came within a goodly hall, both high and wide, and in\nlength equal to a bowshot. On every da\u00efs a linen cloth was spread,\nand sure never king nor count might eat off fairer or better wrought.\nAll was made ready for meat, and the bread and wine set in readiness\non the tables; but never a living soul was there. In a side chamber he\nbeheld on grails of silver more than a hundred boars' heads, with\npepper beside them, dressed for the serving. Sir Gawain beheld, and\ncrossed himself with lifted hand, but would no longer abide, finding\nno man with whom he might have speech.\n\nHe turned him again through the castle, thinking to find at the\nbridgehead the maidens of whom I told but now, whom he had left\nbearing the water in golden pitchers, but nowhere might he find them,\nand it vexed him sore that he saw them not, since he thought within\nhimself that they would surely have told him the truth concerning\ntheir lord, whom he had seen but now enter the burg.\n\nMuch he mused thereon, repenting him that he had not longer spoken\nwith them, but now would he make no more abiding, but set him speedily\non his way, to meet the king. Nor did he draw bridle till he came unto\nhim.\n\n\"Fair nephew,\" quoth Arthur, \"shall we to-day find hostel where we\nmay take rest, for we have sore need thereof?\"\n\n\"Fair Sire, be at rest; food shall ye have now,\" answered Sir Gawain.\n\n\"'Tis a good word,\" quoth Kay; \"right gladly will I serve the first\ncourse unto the king, and to my comrades after!\"\n\n\"Kay,\" saith Sir Gawain \"not for all the world might ye guess the\nmarvels I have found!\" Then he told unto them the adventure, even as\nit had fallen out, the while he guided them to the burg. As they rode\nadown the street the king marvelled greatly at the riches he beheld,\nand Kay spake a courteous word,\n\n    \"Castle, he who hence might bear ye\n    Would do ill an he should spare ye!\"\n\nThus came they all into the inner burg, and, still ahorse, into the\ngreat hall, but they found no man to whom they might speak, or to\nwhose care they might give their steeds. Then they said to each other,\n\"'Twere ill to let them fast,\" and the king spake, \"I counsel that\nafter supper we go forth into yonder fair meadow.\"\n\nThis they held for good rede, and dismounted, making fast their\nsteeds to the stag's antlers on the wall. Then they washed their faces\nand their hands in a bowl of silver, and the king sat himself down\nfirst, and his knights after.\n\nWith no delay Kay set the first course before the king; 'twas a great\nboar's head, and he bare it joyfully, and thereafter swiftly served\nthe rest, saying an any found cause for plaint, there was no lack, he\ncould have at his will. \"The food hath cost me naught and I give it\nfreely; nay, of a verity we might, an we were so minded, feed our\nsteeds on boars' heads; this is no niggard hostelry! See ye the fair\ncouches in yonder chamber?\" And he pointed to an open doorway.\n\nSir Gawain looked, and saw a shield hanging on the wall, and within\nthe shield yet stood the fragment of a mighty lance, with a silken\npennon hanging from it. I tell ye of a truth, so soon as he was ware\nthereof the blood stirred in his veins; he spake no word, but swiftly\nas might be he sprang up from meat, casting aside the knife he held,\nand gat him to his steed, and girthed him tightly, and set his helmet\non his head, and sat him down again on a bench near by the da\u00efs, his\nshield beside him.\n\nThe king marvelled greatly, and the knights said the one to the other,\n\"Ha, God, what aileth Sir Gawain?\" Each would fain know wherefore he\nhad armed himself thus swiftly; they thought of a surety his head had\ngrown light through over much fasting and the great heat of the day.\nThey were sore dismayed thereat, for they had seen and heard naught\nthat might give occasion for arming, and they might not guess the\ncause.\n\nThe king spake simply, \"Fair nephew, say, wherefore have ye ceased to\neat? And wherefore thus arm in haste? Ye make us much to marvel; tell\nme, I pray, doth aught ail ye?\"\n\n\"Naught, Sire, save that I pray ye to eat quickly, an ye love me!\"\n\n\"How,\" quoth Arthur, \"without ye, who have fasted even as we? Methinks\nthat were ill done!\"\n\n\"By God and Saint Thomas, to eat here will profit me naught; ye are\nwrong, Sire!\" Thus answered Sir Gawain, swearing that for naught in\nthe world would he eat in this hostelry, neither might he be joyful\nor at ease so long as they abode therein. \"But I pray ye, Sire,\nhasten and eat.\"\n\nThen the king in the hearing of all sware straitly by Him who lieth\nnot, that he would eat naught till that he knew wherefore his nephew\nhad thus donned his helmet.\n\n\"Sire,\" quoth Sir Gawain, \"ill and falsely should I have wrought if\nfor the telling of so slight a matter I should make ye fast this day;\ncertes I will tell ye, and lie not. Ye know well how five years agone\nye led an army great and strong against the city of Branlant; many a\nking, many a baron, with twenty thousand men all told, with ye laid\nsiege to the city. Within were many of great valour to aid the lord\nwho held the seignorie of that land. One morn, at break of day, they\nmade a sortie on our host; the cry and clamour were so great that I\ntook no leisure to arm me, but mounted my steed and rode forth, even\nas I was, to learn the cause of the tumult, bearing with me but shield\nand lance. Thus I rode forth from the camp, and came straightway on\nthe men of the city, who were hasting to return with their spoil. I\nfollowed them, wherein I did foolishly, since I came near to lose my\nlife thereby, for I was wounded by a spear in the shoulder, as ye\nknow, so that I was like to die, and must needs lie sick four months\nand more ere that I was whole and sound.\n\n\"One morning, as I lay in my tent, I bade them raise the hangings\naround that I might look on the land, and I beheld one of my squires,\nmounted on the Gringalet, making his way from the stream where he had\nwatered the steed. I called him, and he came to me, and I bade him\nwithout delay saddle the good horse, and he did my bidding. I clad me\nswiftly the while, and bade them bring me my armour secretly, and when\nI had armed me I mounted, and rode alone out of the camp. Fair Sire,\nye followed me, ere I came beyond the tents, praying me straitly to\nreturn, but I entreated ye gently that since I had lain overlong sick\nye would grant me to go forth into the fields to disport myself, and\nto test if I were in very truth healed of my wound, promising to\nreturn speedily to camp. By this covenant, Sire, ye granted me to ride\nforth.\n\n\"Thus I went my way till I came to a leafy grove, beset with flowers,\nand abounding in birds, which sang loud and clear. I stayed my steed\nto hearken, and for the sweetness of the song my heart grew light, and\nI felt nor pain nor ill. Then I set spurs to my steed, and galloped\nadown the glade. I found myself hale and strong, and feared no longer\nfor my wound.\n\n\"Thus I hearkened to the sweet song of the birds till that I forgat\nmyself, and passed a second grove, and a third, and a fourth, ere that\nI bethought me of returning. Thus I rode till I came to a clearing\nfair and wide, where I saw beside a fountain a pavilion, richly\nfashioned. I rode even to the doorway, and looked within, and there on\na couch I beheld so wondrous fair a maiden that I was abashed for her\ngreat beauty. Sire, I dismounted, and fastened my steed without the\ntent and entered and saluted the maiden; but, Sire, first she greeted\nSir Gawain ere that she made answer to me.\n\n\"Then I asked her wherefore she did thus, and she answered that she\nheld Sir Gawain in honour above all knights, and therefore she first\ngave him greeting. And when I heard this I spake saying that I was\nindeed Sir Gawain, and her most true knight, but scarce would the\nmaiden believe me. I must needs unhelm, and from an inner chamber she\nbrought forth a silken ribbon, whereon a Saracen maiden of the queen's\nhousehold had wrought my semblance. And when she had looked thereon,\nand beheld me disarmed, and knew of a verity that I was he whom she\ndesired, then she threw her arms around me, and kissed me more than a\nhundred times, saying that she was mine even as long as she might\nlive.\n\n\"Then I took that fair gift right joyfully, and we spake together\nlong, and had our will the one of the other. And this I tell ye that\nere we parted I sware to her that other love would I never have. Then\nwhen I had armed me again, and mounted my steed, I took leave of the\nmaid right lovingly, and turned me again for the camp, joyful of this\nmy fair adventure.\n\n\"Thus I rode swiftly through one grove, but had gone scarce a bowshot\nbeyond when a knight came fast behind me, marvellous well armed, and\nbearing a lance with a fair pennon. He cried loudly upon me, 'Traitor,\nye may go no further; ye must pay dearly for my brother, whom ye slew,\nand for this my daughter, whom ye have now dishonoured.' Then I\nanswered him, 'Sir Knight, ye might speak more courteously, for I have\ndone ye neither shame nor evil; an I had, I were ready to give ye what\namends might seem good to ye and to my lady; treason have I not done.'\n\n\"With that I set spurs to my steed, and he likewise, and we came fast\nthe one against the other, and his lance was shivered on my shield,\nbut my blade pierced him through shield and hauberk, so that he fell\nto the ground sore wounded. Sire, I pray ye eat, for an I tell ye more\nit may turn to evil.\" And the king quoth, \"Nephew, say on speedily,\nand delay not.\"\n\nThen spake Sir Gawain, \"Sire, I left the knight lying, and went my\nway, but ere I had gone far I heard one cry upon me, 'Traitor, stay;\nye must pay for my uncle and this my father, whom ye have wrongfully\nslain, and for my sister, whom ye have dishonoured!' Then I stayed my\nsteed, and prayed him to speak more courteously, for that I was ready\nto make amends an I had done wrong, but that I was no traitor.\n\n\"Then we set ourselves to joust, and I tell ye, Sire, we came so hard\ntogether that we were borne both of us to the earth. Then we betook\nus to our swords, and dealt many a blow the one to the other; but in\nthe end, in that I was scarce healed of my wound, he dealt me more\nharm than I might deal him; in this I lie not, I was well-nigh worn\ndown, and put to the worse. Then I bethought me, Sire, and prayed him\nto tell me his name since I was fain to know it; and he told me he was\nBran de Lis. Ider de Lis, the good and valiant, was his father, and\nMelians de Lis his uncle, and he said did I get the better of him,\nthen had I slain the three best knights in any land, yet he deemed\nwell, an God would help him, that he might even avenge the twain; for\nhe quoth, 'I know well that a combat betwixt us may not endure over\nlong, but that one of us must needs be slain.' And I answered, 'Sir,\nlet us do otherwise, for an ye put me to the worse but few will\nbelieve the tale, for in this land it were not lightly held that any\nman may vanquish me. Methinks 'twere better that our combat be fought\nin the sight of many, who shall bear true witness as to the which of\nus comes off the better.' Thus, Sire, we made covenant together by\ntoken that in what place soever he should find me, whether armed or\nunarmed, there we should fight. This we sware, the one to the other.\nBy the love I bear ye, Sire, never since that day have I heard aught\nof him in any land where I might be. Thus was our combat ended, as I\ntell ye, and of a truth I saw him no more.\n\n\"But even now, Sire, as I sat at meat, from which I arose in wrath and\nmisease (willingly would I have eaten an I might), this is what\nchanced: I saw in yonder chamber the selfsame shield which Bran de Lis\nbare the day we did combat together; full well I remember it, and\nthere it hangeth on the wall. Fair lord king, an God help me 'tis no\nlie; there in the shield standeth fast my pennon, and a great splinter\nof my lance; by that token, Sire, Bran de Lis doth haunt this country,\nsince his shield be here. Therefore am I vexed and wrathful, and\ntherefore I arose from meat, since I feared to be taken at a loss; in\nsooth, I somewhat fear him, for so good a knight I never saw! Sire,\nnow have I told ye the truth, and wherefore I have donned my helmet,\nye need press me no further, since not for the kingdom of Logres\nwould I be found unarmed in such place as he may be. Fair Sire, I pray\nye hasten, otherwise, an there be long abiding, I may chance to pay\nover dear for my meat.\"\n\nQuoth the king, \"Fair nephew, sit ye down again, nor have fear of any\nfoe. He cometh not.\"\n\nBut Sir Gawain answered, \"Sire, for naught that ye may say will I eat\nin this hostel!\"\n\n\"So be it,\" quoth the king, \"an ye will do naught for my prayer.\" With\nthat all the others betook them to meat in good fellowship.\n\nAfter no long time they beheld a little brachet, which ran out from a\nside chamber and came into the hall. A long leash trailed behind it,\nand round its neck was a collar of gold, wherein were many precious\nstones, red, and green as ivy leaves. The brachet was white as snow,\nand smoother than any ermine. I tell ye of a truth 'twas not ugly, but\nvery fair and well shapen, and the king gazed long at it. It barked\nloudly at the knights on the da\u00efs, and made small joy of them, I tell\nye. Then Kay the seneschal coveted it, and spake to the king, \"Sire,\nI will keep this brachet, and take it hence, an ye grant me this gift;\n'twill be a comrade for Huden.\" And the king said, \"Take it,\nseneschal, and bear it hence.\"\n\nWith that the brachet turned tail, and Kay with no delay sprang up and\nthought to seize it, but the dog would not await him, but fled on\nthrough a chamber wrought in marble, and the leash which was long fell\nabout the feet of Kay, who would fain have caught it but might not\ncome at it. Might he set foot on the leash he could have held it, but\nhe failed to catch it.\n\nThus the chase went from chamber to chamber till five were passed, and\nthe seneschal came into a fair garden set with olive trees and pines,\nwherein were more folk than in a city. They were playing at diverse\ngames, and making such joy and festivity as 'twere overlong to\nrecount, for that day they were keeping the feast of a saint of that\nland.\n\nBeneath the shade of a laurel in the midst of an orchard a knight was\ndisarming; tall he was and strong, valiant and proud, and to serve him\nand honour him the best and most renowned of the folk stood and knelt\naround waiting on his disarming. The brachet which Kay was chasing\nstayed not till it came to the knight, and took shelter betwixt his\nlegs, barking loudly at the pursuer.\n\nKay stayed his steps, abashed at the sight and sound of this folk, and\nthought to return swiftly, and with no delay; but the knight looked on\nhis people and said, \"There is a stranger among us, whoever he may\nbe!\" Then beholding Kay, who would turn him again whence he came, he\nspake, \"See him there, take him, and bring him hither!\"\n\nThis they did swiftly, and brought Kay before him, and when the knight\nbeheld him he said joyfully, \"Sir Kay, ye are right welcome as my\nfriend and comrade; where is the king, your master?\"\n\n\"Sir, he is within, on the da\u00efs, and with him many a valiant knight;\nthey are even now at meat!\"\n\n\"And is the king's nephew, Gawain, there? Fain would I be assured\nthereof.\" And Kay answered, \"The best knight in the world is in the\nking's company; without him would he go nowhither!\"\n\nNow when the knight heard this he was like to fly for joy. Half armed\nas he was he sprang to his feet, and for very gladness stayed not to\nfinish his disarming. A rich mantle had they hung on his shoulders,\nbut the neck was yet unfastened, nor would he tarry to clasp it, for\nhaste and joy. And know that one leg was still shod with iron, which\nhung downward, half unlaced, nor would he stay to rid himself thereof.\nThus he sped in all haste to the hall, and his folk after him, and\nwithout slacking speed he ran into the hall, followed by so great a\ncrowd that the king was sore abashed when he heard the tumult.\n\nThe knight went forward even to the da\u00efs, and saluted the king\ncourteously, and commanded the folk to bring torches, for 'twas scarce\nlight therein, and they did at his pleasures, and he bade bring other\nmeats, so that Arthur, the valiant and courteous, was well served as\nbefitting a king.\n\nThe knight was very joyous, and quoth, \"Sire, now hath God done me\ngreat honour, for never before might I do ye service; now am I right\nglad and joyful that ye be lodged here! I have greeted ye in all fair\nfriendship without thought of ill, ye and this goodly company, save\none whom as yet I see not!\"\n\nWith that there entered men bearing torches and tapers, so that the\nhall, which before was dark and dim, became light and clear. The folk\nwho had come thither that they might look upon the king, of whom they\nhad oft heard tell, made such haste to see him that there was no space\nto sit down, and all the palace was but a sea of heads.\n\nThe lord was sore vexed. He held in his hand a little round staff,\nshort and heavy, and being chafed with anger in that he saw not Sir\nGawain, and knew not where he might be, began laying about him to part\nthe crowd, making them by force to mount on the da\u00efs, and sills of the\nwindows, and buttresses of the walls, since he might not drive them\nfrom the hall.\n\nWhen Sir Gawain saw that the folk was thus parted asunder, without\ndelaying he mounted him on his steed. Then first the lord of the\ncastle beheld him, and was sore vexed that he had not come upon him\ndisarmed. Scowling for very anger, he threw his staff aside, and when\nhe had somewhat bethought him he lifted his head, and gat him to Sir\nGawain, and laid hold of his bridle, saying, \"Fair sir, hearken, are\nye ready to keep the covenant ye made with me? It vexeth me that ye\nare so far quit that I have failed to find ye disarmed, as I fain had\ndone; I had better have been slain the day I made this compact, for\nthen, verily, ye too had died, had I not granted the respite, but now\nI deem our battle shall last the longer!\"\n\nSir Gawain straightway granted him his battle, and the knight bade\nbring more torches, for the stars already shone forth. Then they\nbrought them in great plenty, and he told off folk to hold them by the\nfist full, so that one might see far and near, as clearly as might be.\nThen the lord of the castle seated himself in the midst of the hall,\non a great carpet, which a squire spread swiftly at his bidding, and\nhe bade them bring thither all that was needful to the rightful arming\nof a knight desirous of battle rather than of aught beside. He donned\na greave of iron, and relaced that which hung loose; then he bade them\nbring armpieces, and he laced them on his arms, and when he had done\nthis he came before the king and said, \"Eat joyfully, and be not\ndismayed; behold me, that I am strong and bold, hale and swift. Your\nnephew on his part is even as I am; I know not if he hath told ye how\nthe matter be come to this point that the one of us must needs die ere\nwe be parted. 'Twere hard to think this morn that the one of us was so\nnigh unto his end!\"\n\nThen the king's eyes filled with tears, and the knight, beholding,\nspake in his pride: \"Certes, Sire, I prize ye less than afore; ye are\nbut half-hearted who are thus compassionate for naught; by all the\nSaints in the calendar, ye be like unto him who crieth out afore he be\nhurt! Never before did I set eyes on a king who wept, and knew not\nwherefore! By my faith, this cometh of a cowardly heart!\"\n\nHe turned him again without further word, and armed him swiftly, and\ndid on his harness, and when he was armed he mounted his steed, and\nbade bring a lance, stout and strong, with shining blade. Then he hung\nhis shield on his neck by a broidered band, and settled him well in\nhis saddle, and called unto Sir Gawain, and quoth, \"Here in this\nhouse is the lordship mine by right of heritage, yet would I do no\noutrage nor take vantage thereof; the rather do I bid and conjure ye\nto take that part of the hall which seemeth best; now look well where\nye will make your stand.\"\n\nSir Gawain hearkened, but stirred not, save that he drew somewhat\nback, and lowered his lance, and his foe, on his part, did likewise. I\ntestify of a truth, and tell ye, that they rode over hard a joust, for\nas they came together at their horses' full speed the one smote the\nother so fiercely on the shield that both alike were split asunder, so\nthat the sharp blade passed right through, yet they harmed not the\nhauberks which clung close and tight. Thus as they sped on the lances\nbent and brake, yet the steeds stayed not, and the knights who\nbestrode them were naught dismayed, but when they would have passed\neach other in their course they came together with such weight of body\nand shield, and full front of the horses, that they smote each other\nto the ground, and all four fell on a heap, the good steeds undermost.\nBut the knights lightly sprang to their feet, and threw aside their\nlances, and drew their good swords, and dealt each the other so\nmighty a blow on the shining helm that it was well indented. The king\nand they who looked on were sore anguished and afraid, but the twain,\n'twixt whom there was such enmity, ran again on each other in such\nfashion that, I tell ye and lie not, never was so fierce a m\u00eal\u00e9e of\ntwo knights beheld. They made sparks to spring from the helmet and\nsmote the circlets asunder as those who make no feint to fight. When\nthe good swords smote the shields they made the splinters to fly\napace: so eager was each to put the other to the worse that they\nceased not nor slackened this the first assault till that both were\ncovered with blood. Then the heat which vexed them mightily made them\nperforce draw asunder, to recover breath. Too heavy and too sore had\nbeen their combat for those who loved them to behold; never day of his\nlife had King Arthur so feared for his nephew.\n\nNow at the head of the master da\u00efs was a door, opening into an inner\nchamber, and, as the tale telleth, in a little space there came forth\na damosel, so fair of face and form that Christendom might not show\nher peer. She was clad in fair and fitting fashion, in a vesture\nrichly broidered in gold, and had seen, perchance, some twenty\nsummers. She was so fair, so tall and gracious, that no woman born\nmight equal her, and all marvelled at her beauty.\n\nShe leant awhile on the head of the da\u00efs, beholding the two knights,\nwho strove hard to slay each the other. They had returned to the\nonslaught in such pride and wrath that verily I tell ye they might not\nlong endure. Such blows they dealt on helm and shield with their naked\nblades that they made the splinters fly, and the crimson blood welled\nfrom their wounds and streamed through the mail of their hauberk down\non to the pavement. Nor was the fight equal, for Sir Gawain had broken\nthe laces of his helm, so that 'twas no longer on his head, but lay on\nthe ground at his feet. Yet he covered himself full well with his\nshield, as one who was no child in sword play. But his foeman pressed\nhim sore, and oft he smote him with hard and angry blows; Sir Gawain\ndefended himself right valiantly, but it went too ill with him in that\nhe had lost his helm, therefore as much as might be he held himself on\nthe defensive. But once, as he made attack, Bran de Lis smote him so\nfierce and heavy a blow at his head that, but that it fell first on\nthe shield, it had then and there ended the matter, and all said that\nwithout fail he had been a dead man. Bran de Lis spake wrathfully,\n\"Take this blow for mine uncle; ye shall have one anon for my father;\nif I may, it shall be the last!\"\n\nSir Gawain struck back, but he was sore hindered by the blood which\nran down into his eyes ('twas that which vexed him the most); he would\nfain have drawn him back, but Bran de Lis left him no space, so\nwrathfully did he run upon him, and Sir Gawain withstood him sturdily,\nyet so hardly was he pressed that whether he would or no he must needs\nyield ground.\n\nThen the damosel of whom I spake but now turned her, and ran swiftly\ninto the inner chamber, and in a short space came forth with a little\nchild, whom she set upon the da\u00efs. He wore a little coat of red\nsamite, furred with ermine, cut to his measure; and of his age no\nfairer child might be seen. His face was oval and fair, his eyes\nbright and laughing; he was marvellous tall and strong for his age,\nwhich might not be more than four years; and by the richness of his\nclothing 'twas clear that there were those who held him dear.\n\nThe knights who fought below still dealt each other such mighty blows\nthat all who beheld them had dole and wrath. I can tell ye each was\nweak and weary enow, but verily Sir Gawain had yielded ground\nsomewhat, and would fain have wiped away the blood which ran adown his\nface and into his eyes, but he might in no wise do so, since Bran de\nLis held him so close, doing what he might to slay or wound him.\n\nThen without delay the damosel took her child, there where he stood\nbefore her, and said very softly, \"Fair little son, go quickly to\nyonder tall knight, 'tis thine uncle, doubt it not, fall at his feet,\nlittle son, and kiss them, and pray for God's sake the life of thy\nfather that he slay him not!\"\n\nStraightway she set him on the ground, and the child ran, and clasped\nhis uncle by the right leg, and kissed his foot, and said, \"My mother\nprays ye for the love of God, that ye slay not my father, fair sweet\nuncle; she will die of grief an ye do!\"\n\nGreat pity fell upon the king when he heard the child speak thus, and\nall who hearkened and beheld were filled with wrath and anguish. All\nhad compassion on the child, save Bran de Lis alone, for he quoth in\nwrath and anger, \"Get thee hence, son of a light woman!\" and he\nwithdrew his foot so swiftly from the child's clasp that, whether he\nwould or no, he fell, and smote face and forehead hard on the stone of\nthe pavement, so that he grazed mouth and face, and lay senseless and\nbleeding on the floor.\n\nThen King Arthur sprang from the da\u00efs, and caught the child to him,\nand kissed it twenty times on face and eyes and mouth, and wept for\nvery anger; nor for the blood on the child's face would he cease to\ncaress it, so great love had he towards it, for he thought of a truth\nthat he held again Gawain, whom he now counted for lost. He quoth,\n\"Sir Bran de Lis, this little child is very fair; never in your life\ndid ye do such villainy as to go near to slay so sweet a child, nor\nought ye to have denied the request he made, for he asked naught\noutrageous. Nor will I have him slain, for he is my joy and my solace;\nhenceforward know well that for naught will I leave him in your care!\"\n\nQuoth Bran de Lis, \"Sire, ye are less courteous than I had heard\ntell, and ye make overmuch dole and plaint for the life of a single\nknight; ye should not so be dismayed, this is naught but feebleness of\nheart.\"\n\nAs Bran de Lis thus spake to the king Sir Gawain wiped off the blood\nwhich ran down his face, and bound up his wounds, the while he had\nrespite; the king, who was wise enow, held his foeman the longer in\nspeech that his nephew might be the more refreshed, for the strength\nand valour of that good knight doubled as midnight passed. For this\nwas the custom of Sir Gawain: when as ever midnight had struck his\nstrength was redoubled and he waxed in force even until noon.\n\nNow so soon as his strength came again, and he saw the king, and his\nlove, and the great folk who beheld them, then a mighty shame overtook\nhim, and he ran in wrath on his foe, and assailed him straitly, but\nthe other yielded not, crying, \"Honour to ye that ye thus seek me!\"\n\nThen might ye see them smite blows great and fierce, with the swords\nthey wielded, so that they were well nigh beaten down. Sir Bran de Lis\nsmote a mighty blow, thinking to catch Sir Gawain on the head, but\nthat good knight, who knew right well how to cover himself, held his\nshield in such wise that the stroke fell upon it, and split it adown\nthe midst; so hard had he smitten that the blade entered even to the\nhilt, and his body following the blow he bent him forwards, and ere he\nmight recover him Sir Gawain smote him full on the helm, so that the\nlaces brake, and it flew off adown the hall, leaving the head bare.\nAnd ere Sir Bran de Lis was well aware he followed up the blow with\none above the ventaille so that he bled right freely. Now were they\nagain on a par, so that one might scarce tell the which of them had\nthe better. In great pride and wrath they ran each on the other, so\nthat in short space of time they had lost overmuch blood. Mightily\neach strove to put his foe to the worse, and all who looked upon them\nwaxed strangely pitiful, and would fain have parted them asunder had\nthey dared.\n\nNow might ye have seen that gentle knight, who full oft had made\noffering of good deeds and alms, right well acquit himself, for so\nsorely he vexed his foeman that he hacked his shield all to pieces,\nand he might no longer hold his ground, but whether he would or no he\nmust yield place, and wavered backward adown the hall. Then he smote\nhim again, so that he tottered upon his feet, and Sir Gawain hasted,\nand threw himself upon him with such weight of body and of shield that\nhe well nigh bare him to earth, so he drave him staggering adown the\nhall till he fell against a da\u00efs.\n\nWhen the damosel saw this she tare her child from the king's arms, and\nran swiftly, and threw herself right valiantly betwixt the two, so\nthat she came nigh to be cut in pieces, and cried, \"Son, pray thy\nfather that he have pity on thy mother, and stay his hand ere he slay\nmy brother, whom I love more than mine own life!\" But the child spake\nno word, but looked up at the glancing sword blades, and laughed\nblithely. And all were moved to pity and wrath who saw him anon\nbleeding and now laughing for very joy.\n\nThen Sir Gawain, of right good will, drew himself aback, but he whom\nhe had thus hard pressed drave forward at him, like one reft of his\nsenses, and came nigh to doing him a mischief in that Sir Gawain was\noff his guard. Then she who held the child sprang swiftly betwixt\nthem, and cried, \"Now by God I will see the which of ye twain will\nslay him, for he shall be cloven asunder ere that I take him hence.\"\n\nThe swords clashed together aloft, but wrought no ill, for neither\nmight come at the other for fear of the child whom they were loth to\nharm, and for fear of her who held him. And the child laughed gaily at\nthe glancing swords, and stretched up his hands to his own shadow,\nwhich he saw on the shining blade, and showed it with his finger to\nhis father when he saw it come anear, and had fain sprung up and\ncaught the blades, sharp though they might be. And many a man wept,\nand there arose within the hall a great cry, as of one voice, \"Good\nlord king, stay the fight; we will all aid thee thereto, for no man\nshould longer suffer this!\"\n\nThen Arthur sprang up swiftly, and seized his sword and shield, and\ncame unto the twain, and parted them asunder, whether they would or\nno, and said to the knight ye have heard me praise, \"Sir, take the\namends offered, and I tell ye truly I will add thereto, for I myself\nwill do ye honour, and become your man, for the sake of peace.\" And\nall cried with one voice, \"Sir, by God and by the True Cross, ye shall\nnot refuse this, for the king has spoken as right valiant man.\" Then\nthe knight held his hand, hearing that which pleased him.\n\nThus was peace made, and the battle parted asunder, and Sir Bran de\nLis did right sagely, for he spake, \"Sire, it were nor right nor\nreason that ye should become my man, hence will I do ye true homage,\nbut for hostage will I ask the knights of the Round Table, who are the\nmost valiant in the world; also shall your nephew do other amends,\neven as he promised me, in abbey and nuns, for the repose of my\nfather's soul, and ye shall free one hundred serfs with your own\nhand.\" And the king answered, \"Know of a truth that all shall be done\nat my charges.\"\n\nThen Bran de Lis did homage to the king, and kissed him in all good\nfaith, and then came forward Sir Gawain, and he humbled himself before\nhim, kneeling at his feet, and praying that he would pardon his ill\nwill; and Sir Gawain took him by the hand, and raised him up, and\nquoth, \"I pardon thee all, and henceforth will I be your friend in all\ngood faith and courage, nor will I fail ye for any harm ye may\naforetime have done me.\"\n\nBoth were sore faint and feeble, and void of strength by reason of the\nblood they had lost, so that scarce might they stand on their feet\nwithout falling to the ground. They bare them to an inner chamber;\nnever knight nor maiden entered within a fairer, for I tell of a truth\nthere was no good herb in Christendom with which it was not strewn.\n'Twas richly garnished, and four great tapers, cunningly placed, gave\nfitting light. Then leeches searched their wounds and said there was\nno need for dismay, for neither was wounded to the death, and within\nfifteen days both might well be healed, and all were joyful at the\ntidings.\n\nThe king and his barons abode the fifteen days at the castle of Lys,\nnor departed therefrom; in all the world was neither fish nor fowl,\nfruit nor venison, of which the king might not each day eat in plenty\nif he so willed. But he was loth to part from Sir Bran de Lis, by\nreason of the good tales which he told concerning the folk of the\nCastle Orguellous, whereat the king rejoiced greatly.\n\n\"Sire,\" quoth Bran de Lis, \"I myself will go with ye, and we will take\nwith us squires and footmen. My pavilion is large and fair, and by\nfaith, we will carry that too along with us; and also a pack of\nhounds, the best we may find, for there be thick forests all around,\nwhere we may hunt at our will, and go a-shooting too, an it please us,\nfor we shall find great plenty of deer and other game.\"\n\nSir Gawain took little heed of all he said, so wholly was he taken up\nwith his lady, and she forgat him not, but was ever at his service, at\nany hour that might please him; 'twas all gladness, and no ill\nthought. Nor did Sir Gawain mislike his fair son, whom he caressed\nright often. Fain would he have tarried long time with them. Nor\nmarvel at that, my masters, for he was there at ease, and he who hath\nwhatsoever he may desire doeth ill methinks to make over haste to\nchange, nor will he make plaint, since he suffereth nor pain nor ill.\n\nBut when the fifteen days came to an end, then did the king bid make\nready, for he had no mind to tarry longer; well I know 'twas a Tuesday\nmorn that they set them on their way, and with them went that good\nknight, Sir Bran de Lis.\n\n\n\n\nCastle Orguellous\n\n\nFor seven full days King Arthur and his men journeyed, and passed\nthrough many a forest ere they came into the open land and saw before\ntheir eyes the rich Castle Orguellous, the which they had greatly\ndesired to behold. They who had gone ahead had already pitched the\nking's pavilion in a fair meadow nigh unto a grove of branching olive\ntrees, very fair and full of leaf. There the king, and they who were\nwith him, dismounted gladly; they might go no further, since 'twas\nwell known in the land that they came to make war on the castle.\n\nThey had made no long abiding when they heard a great bell toll--no\nman had ever heard a greater--five leagues around might the sound be\nheard, and all the earth trembled. Then the king asked of him who knew\nthe customs of the castle wherefore the bell tolled thus.\n\nQuoth Bran de Lis, \"Of a truth, 'tis that all the country round may\nknow that the castle is besieged, till that the bell be tolled nor\nshield nor spear may be set on the walls, the towers, or battlements.\"\nAs he spake thus they saw to the right more than five thousand banners\nwave from the walls, the towers, and donjon, and as many shields hung\nforth from the battlements. Then they saw issue forth from the forest\non to the plain knights mounted on palfreys and war-horses, who made\ntheir way by many roads to the castles; right gladly did the king and\nhis comrades behold them.\n\nI will not devise unto ye all the fashion of the castle, I must needs\nspend overmuch time thereon, but since the birth of Christ no man ever\nsaw one more fairly placed, nor richer, nor better garnished with tall\ntowers and donjon.\n\nNow was meat made ready in the king's tent, and all sat them down to\nsupper in right merry mood; they said among themselves that enough\nknights were entered into the castle to give work to each and all.\nThus they spake and made sport concerning those within.\n\nSo soon as the king had sat him down Lucains the butler poured the\nwine into a golden cup, and spake unto the king, \"I pray the right of\nthe first joust that be ridden to-morrow morn, for it pertaineth unto\nmine office!\" Quoth the king, \"I were loth to refuse the first gift\nprayed of me here in this land.\" \"'Tis well said,\" quoth the lord of\nLys. And the king said to the butler, \"Go, eat with my nephew,\" and he\ndid so right gladly.\n\nSo soon as supper was done, and they had washed, swiftly they\ncommanded their arms to be brought, nor will I lie to ye; thereafter\nmight ye have seen a great testing, many greaves of iron laced on,\nlimbs outstretched, feet bent; squires were bidden don the hauberks\nthat they might look well to them, and add straps or take away--all\nwere fain to see that naught was lacking, but all in fair and knightly\norder. Ye never saw a folk thus busy themselves. They made merry with\nthe king the while, and prayed of him in sport to say the day he would\nallot to each, that their pain might be the sooner ended. \"Nay,\nlords,\" quoth Arthur, \"I would fain keep ye the longer in dread.\" Thus\nwhen they had made sport enow, and it was nightfall, they drank, and\nbetook them to rest.\n\nOn the morrow, without delay, they arose at sunrise, and betook them\nto a chapel in a wood, nigh to a meadow where were buried all the good\nknights slain before the castle, whether strangers or men of the land.\nAnd so soon as the priest had said the Mass of the Holy Ghost, and the\nservice was ended, they turned them again, and made ready for meat in\nthe king's pavilion, and the king and all his knights ate together\nright joyfully. When they had eaten they arose, and armed Lucains the\nbutler well and courteously. The vest he ware under his hauberk was of\npurple broidered with gold. Then they brought him his horse and his\nshield, and he mounted right glad and joyful, and they brought unto\nhim his pennon. Thus he departed from the king and his comrades, and\nset spurs to his steed, and stayed not till he came unto the field of\nbattle, whither they betook them and demanded joust of those of the\ncastle.\n\nMasters, at the four corners of the meadow were planted four olive\ntrees, to show the bounds of the field, and he was held for vanquished\nwho should first pass the boundary of the olives. Since he had come\nthither armed, it befell not Lucains to await long, but short space\nafter he had entered the field he saw ride proudly forth from the\ncastle a great knight, mounted on a roan steed, right well appointed\nof arms and accoutrements. He came at full speed to the meadow, and\nswiftly, as befitted, each lowered his lance, and set spurs to his\nsteed, and rode the one against the other. Great blows they dealt on\neach other's shield, and the knight smote Lucains so fiercely that he\nbrake his lance all to shivers, and the butler smote back in such wise\nthat he bare him out of the saddle on to the ground. Then he took the\nsteed, and turned him, leaving his foeman afoot, and came gladly and\nblithely again to the pavilion. Quoth Bran de Lis, \"Certes, butler,\nthe siege had been raised had ye brought yon knight captive, nor would\nye have had further travail, for the quest on which ye came hither had\nbeen achieved, and ere nightfall Sir Giflet had been delivered up, for\nyonder is so good a knight they had gladly made the exchange!\"\n\nWhen the butler heard this he was ill-pleased, and he tarried no\nlonger at the pavilion, but leaving the steed gat him back to the\nmeadow, nor turned again for the king, who many a time called upon\nhim. Then from the gateway rode forth a great knight bearing his\npennon, and came spurring into the meadow, and when the butler saw him\nhe rode against him, and smote him so fiercely on the shield that the\nshaft of apple-wood brake, and the knight smote him back with so\nstrong a lance that he bare him to the ground. Lucains sprang up\nswiftly, and thought to take the splinters from his arm without\ndelaying, but the knight ran upon him fiercely, and he defended\nhimself as best he might, though wounded, but since the blade was yet\nin him, whether he would or no, he must needs yield himself prisoner,\nas one who might do no more. Thus he yielded up his sword to the\nknight, who led him with him to the castle, but first he drew out the\nblade carefully, stanching the blood, and binding up the wound.\n\nVery wrathful was the king when he saw his butler thus led thence;\nthen quoth Sir Gawain, \"Certes, an Lucains were whole I should rejoice\nin that he is captive, for now will our comrade Giflet, the brave and\nvaliant, who hath been there in durance four years, learn such\ntidings of us as shall make him glad and joyful. The butler is a right\ngallant knight, and it may chance to any that he be overthrown and\nwounded. I have no mind to blame him for such ill hap.\" Sir Bran de\nLis answered, \"Fair Sir, an God help me, he hath overthrown one of\ntheir men, and I know no better among their ten thousand knights.\" So\nspake Sir Bran de Lis, but for all that was he somewhat vexed\nconcerning the butler, in that he had reproached him for not having\ntaken the knight captive, for he thought in his heart that for these\nwords of his, and for naught else, had Lucains been taken.\n\nThen he came unto the king, and besought him for the great love he\nbare him to grant him the morrow's joust; but though he prayed him\nstraitly the king was loth to yield, but answered that in no wise\nwould he grant his request save that he was fain not to anger him by\nreason of the true faith that he bare unto him. \"So God help me, fair\nfriend; I have it in my mind that I were but ill sped did I chance to\nlose ye!\"\n\n\"Sire, think not of that; 'tis ill done to summon evil, an God will\nthis shall not befall so long as I live; doubt ye not, Sire, but grant\nme the fight freely, ere others ask it!\"\n\nThen the king quoth, \"Have your desire, since ye so will.\" With that\nthey gat them to meat in the tent, but that day a butler was lacking\nto them.\n\nInto that selfsame chamber where that good knight, Giflet fis Do, had\nlong lain, they led Lucains prisoner, and Giflet when he beheld him\nfailed not to know him, but sprang up, and embraced him, and asked\nstraightway, \"Tell me, gentle friend, in what land were ye made\ncaptive?\" Then Lucains told him the truth from beginning to end, how\nthe king had set siege to the castle, and was lodged without, \"And he\nhath sworn he will not depart hence, nor lift the siege, till that he\nhath freed ye.\" Giflet was right joyful when he heard this, and he\nspake again, \"Sir Lucains, greatly do I desire to hear from ye tidings\nof the best knights in the world, even the companions of the Round\nTable; 'tis over long since I saw them, or heard speak of them.\" And\nthe butler made answer, \"Sir, by all the Saints in the calendar, such\nan one is dead, such an one made captive, this and that knight are\nhale and whole, and to the places of the dead many a good knight and\ntrue hath been elect.\" And Giflet cried, \"Ah, God, how minished is\nthat goodly company; I know not the half of them who yet live!\"\n\nQuoth Lucains, \"Know of a truth that all greatly desire to have ye\nagain, nor will they know joy in their hearts till that ye be once\nmore of their fellowship.\"\n\nAt these words they brought them food, and they washed, and ate, and\nwhen 'twas time they gat them to rest, and passed the night in great\njoy of each other's company. But the night was short, since Pentecost\nwas past, and the feast of S. John, when the days are the longest in\nthe year.\n\nOn the morrow the sun rose fine and fair, for the weather was calm and\nclear, and the king arose betimes with his comrades. First they gat\nthem to the chapel and heard Mass, and then dinner was made ready,\nsince to eat ere noon is healthful for the brain. The dinner was rich\nand plentiful, they sat them down gaily and ate with speed, they had\nlarded venison (for of deer was there no lack), and so soon as they\nhad dined the chamberlain armed the lord of Lys right richly, on a\nfair flowered carpet, and the king himself laced his helmet. Then Sir\nBran de Lis mounted and hung the shield about his neck, and took his\nlance whereon was a pennon, and spurred straight for the meadow, which\nhe knew full well.\n\nThen from the gates of the castle he beheld issue forth a knight on a\ngallant steed, right fittingly armed, who rode at full speed to the\nmeadow where Sir Bran de Lis awaited his coming. And so soon as each\nbeheld the other they spurred swiftly forward, and I tell ye of a\ntruth that they smote each other on the shield so that their lances\nbrake, and they came together with such force that they hurled each\nother to the ground; but they lay not there for long, but sprang up\nanon, and laid to with their swords, dealing each other mighty blows\non the gleaming helmets, for the worser of the twain was a gallant\nknight. But he of the castle was sore vexed, in that he was wounded\nwhile Bran de Lis was yet whole, and passing light on his feet, so\nthat he pressed him sore, in so much that he might not abide in any\nplace. By force Sir Bran de Lis brought his foeman to his knees, and\nere he might rise he must perforce yield himself captive. Thus he led\nhim to the pavilion, and made gift of him to Arthur, who received him\nwell, and thanked the lord of Lis right heartily.\n\nThen the king bade them make a lodge of boughs, with curtains round\nabout, whereto they led the wounded knight to rest, for much need had\nhe of repose. King Arthur and his men disarmed Sir Bran de Lis gaily,\nand he washed himself, and they made great sport all day long. And\nwhen it came to the freshness of the evening they went forth to\ndisport themselves; many a valiant knight sat there, round about the\nking, in the shade of an olive tree.\n\nThen they heard the sound of those who blew loudly on the horn and\nplayed upon the flageolet; there was no instrument befitting a watch\nthe music of which was not to be heard within the castle, and much joy\nthey made therein. The king was the more wakeful by night in that he\ntook pleasure in the fair melody which the watchmen who sounded the\nhorn made in answering the one the other.\n\nBeside the lord of Lys sat Kay, who hearkened to the music, nor might\nhe long keep silence, but must needs speak his mind. \"Sire,\" quoth he,\n\"by Saint Denis, meseemeth the joust be forgotten, for this eve none\nhath demanded it; the king hath neither companion nor peer who hath so\nfar prayed it, I wot none be desirous thereof!\"\n\n\"Kay,\" quoth the King, \"I grant thee the joust.\"\n\n\"Sire,\" quoth Kay, \"by Saint Martin, I were liever to handle a spit\nthan a spear to-morrow; I thank ye for naught! Nevertheless, Sire, an\nsuch be your pleasure I will do it, by the faith I owe to my lord Sir\nGawain.\" Then all laughed at Kay's words, and when they had made sport\nenow of him they gat them back to the tent.\n\nThus the night passed, and on the morrow at dawn, ere prime had rung,\nthe king hearkened Mass, and when they had dined they armed the\nseneschal, and he mounted, and took his shield, and departed from them\nswiftly. No sooner had he come to the meadow when a knight, right well\narmed, came forth from the castle, and rode on to the field. They\nsmote each other on the shields so that they fell to the ground, and\nspringing up lightly they fell to with their sharp swords; right\ndourly they pressed on each other, and smote sounding blows on the\nhelms. He of the castle struck wrathfully at Kay, and the seneschal\ncaught the blow, and the knight smote again on the boss of the shield\nso that the blade brake, notwithstanding he had so pressed on the\nseneschal that he made him by force to pass the boundary of the four\nolives, which stood at the corners of the field.\n\nThere the knight stayed him, and turned him back to his steed which\nwas in the midst of the meadow, and remounted, and took Kay's horse,\nfor he saw well 'twas a good steed, and led it away, none gainsaying\nhim. Kay went his way back, and knew not that he had been deceived,\nbut deemed he had won the day, though in sooth he was vanquished.\n\nThen the knights spake unto the king, \"Sire, let us go to meet Kay,\nand make merry over him; 'twill be rare sport to mislead him!\" The\nking was right willing, so they went in company towards the seneschal.\n\nThe king went ahead, as one wise and courteous, and spake gently,\n\"Kay, hast thou come from far? Has mischance befallen thee?\" and Kay,\nwho was ever sharp and ready of tongue, answered, \"Sire, let me be; ye\nhave naught wherewith to reproach me. I have vanquished one of their\nknights, but he hath taken my horse; the field is mine, for I have\nconquered it; and he who hath ridden hence hath the worse!\" All held\ntheir peace, and laughed not.\n\n\"Sir, are ye in need of help?\" quoth Tor fis Ares. And then the others\nspake; \"Seneschal, are ye wounded?\" \"Methinks ye limp somewhat,\" quoth\nSir Gawain.\n\n\"Kay, hand me your shield,\" said Sir Ywain. \"Right valiantly have ye\napproved yourself, marvellous were the blows I saw ye deal! God be\nthanked that ye did thus well!\" With that he took the shield, and hung\nit around his own neck. Each joined in the sport as best he might, and\nKay was right well aware thereof.\n\nThen he spake to Sir Ywain, \"Sir, I will grant ye to-morrow so much as\nI have won to-day, the joust and the field shall ye have in exchange\nfor my shield which ye bear. Ye can do well, an ye will, and I were\nfain to repay ye in such wise as I may.\"\n\nThose who heard might not refrain their mirth, and in merry mood they\nled him to the tent, and disarmed him, and the lord of Lys said, \"Sir\nKay, ye passed the boundary of the four olive trees, and he who first\npasses betwixt them is held for vanquished.\" And Kay answered, \"May\nbe, Sir, by the faith I owe the King of Heaven an ye know the differ\n'twixt entry and exit 'tis more than I may do; sure, 'tis all one, for\nthere where one cometh in the other goeth out!\"\n\nSuddenly there rang forth from the castle and the minster a peal so\ngreat and glad that ye might scarce hear God thunder, and the king\nasked wherefore the bells rang thus.\n\nThen Bran de Lis spake, \"I will tell ye, Sire: 'tis Saturday to-day,\nand now that noon be past they within will do naught against ye, come\nwhat may. In this land is the Mother of God more honoured than\nelsewhere in Christendom; know of a truth that ye shall presently see\nknights and ladies, burgesses and other folk, clad in their best,\nbetake them to the minster; they go to hear Vespers, and do honour to\nOur Lady. Thus it is from noon on Saturday till Tierce on Monday, when\nMass is sung, and the bells chimed throughout the burg, then they get\nthem to their tasks again; the minstrels and other folk. I tell ye\nwithout fail till then shall no joust be ridden; to-morrow, an ye\nwill, ye may go forth to hunt in the forest.\"\n\nThe king praised the custom much, and spent the night with a light\nheart until the morn, when he arose, and with his knights betook him\nto the woods, and all day long the forest rang to the sound of the\nhuntsman's horn.\n\nNow it chanced that Sir Gawain beheld a great stag, which two of his\nhounds had severed from the rest of the herd, and he followed hard\nafter the chase till that the quarry was pulled down in a clearing.\nThere he slew and quartered it, and gave their portion to the dogs,\nbut would take with him naught save the back and sides. So he rode on\nfairly, and without annoy, the hounds running ahead, till, as he went\nhis way, he heard nigh at hand a hawk cry loudly. Then he turned him\nquickly towards the sound, and came on to a wide and dusky path, and\nfollowed it speedily to a dwelling, the fairest he had found in any\nland wherein he had sojourned.\n\n'Twas set in the midst of a clearing, and no wish or thought of man\nmight devise aught that was lacking unto it. There was a fair hall and\na strong tower, 'twas set round about with palisades, and there was a\ngood drawbridge over the moat, which was wide enow, and full of\nrunning water. At the entry of the bridge was a pine-tree, and\nbeneath, on a fair carpet, sat a knight; never had ye seen one so\ntall, or so proud of bearing.\n\nSir Gawain rode straight and fast to him, but he stirred no whit for\nhis coming, but sat still, frowning and thoughtful. Sir Gawain\nmarvelled at his stature, and spake very courteously, \"Sir, God save\nye!\" But the stranger answered nor loud nor low, having no mind for\nspeech. Thrice Sir Gawain greeted him, but he answered not, and the\ngood knight stayed his steed full before him, but he made no semblance\nof seeing him.\n\nQuoth Sir Gawain, \"Ha, God, who hath made man with Thine own hand,\nwherefore didst Thou make this man so fair if he be deaf and dumb? So\ntall is he, and so well fashioned he is like unto a giant. An I had a\ncomrade with me I would lead him hence, even unto the king; methinks\nhe would thank me well, for he would look on him as a marvel!\" And he\nbethought him that he would even bear the knight hence with him on his\nsteed. Thus he laid his venison beneath a tree, and bent him downwards\nfrom his saddlebow, and took the other by the shoulders, and raised\nhim a little.\n\nThen the knight clapped hand to his side, but his sword was lacking,\nand he cried, \"Who may ye be? It lacked but little and I had slain ye\nwith my fist, since ye have snatched me from death; had I my sword\nhere 'twere red with your blood! Get ye hence, vassal, and leave me to\nmy death.\"\n\nThen he sat him again under the tree, and fell a-musing, even as when\nSir Gawain found him. And that good knight, without more ado, reloaded\nhis venison and turned him back, leaving the knight sad and sorrowful.\n\nScarce had Sir Gawain ridden half a league when he saw coming towards\nhim a maiden, fair and courteous, on a great Norman palfrey; nor king\nnor count had been better horsed. The bridle, the harness, the\ntrappings of her steed were beyond price, nor might I tell ye how\nrichly the maiden was clad. Her vesture was of cloth of gold, the\nbuttons of Moorish work, wrought in silk with golden pendants. The\nlady smote her steed oft and again, and rode past Sir Gawain with\nnever a word of greeting.\n\nSir Gawain marvelled much at her haste, and that she had failed to\nspeak with him, and he turned him about, and rode after, crying \"Stay\na little, Lady!\" but she answered not, but made the more haste.\n\nThen Sir Gawain overtook her, and rode alongside, saying, \"Lady, stay,\nand tell me whither ye be bound.\" Then she made answer, \"Sir, for\nGod's sake, hinder me not, for an ye do I tell ye of a truth I shall\nhave slain the best and the fairest knight in any castle of\nChristendom!\"\n\n\"What,\" quoth Sir Gawain, \"have ye slain him with your own hands?\"\n\n\"I, sir? God forbid, but I made covenant with him yesterday that I\nwould be with him ere noon, and now have I failed of my compact. He\nawaiteth me at a tower near by, mine own true love, the best knight\nin the world!\"\n\n\"Certes, Lady, he is yet alive, of that am I true witness; 'twas but\nnow he well nigh dealt me a buffet with his fist! Make not such\nhaste!\"\n\n\"Fair sir, are ye sure and certain?\"\n\n\"Yea, Lady, but he was sore bemused.\"\n\n\"Then know of a truth, Sir Knight, that he may no longer be alive, and\nI may not tarry.\" With that she struck her steed and rode off apace.\nSir Gawain gazed after her, and it vexed him much that he had not\nasked more concerning the knight, whence he came, his land and his\nname, but knew neither beginning nor end of his story.\n\nThus he went on his way, and came again to the pavilion where his\ncompanions awaited him, sore perplexed at his delay, and were right\njoyful when they beheld him. Then straightway he told them the\nadventure, even as it had chanced, and when the lord of Lys heard it\nhe said unto the King, \"Sire, the knight is the Rich Soudoier, he who\nmaintaineth all this goodly following and seignorie; and so much doth\nhe love the maiden whom he calleth his lady and his love, that all\nmen say he will die an he win her not.\"\n\nAs he spake they beheld a great cloud of dust arise toward the forest,\nand there rode past so great a company of folk there cannot have been\nless than twenty thousand; there was left in the city not a soul who\nmight well stir thence who went not forth of right good will toward\nthe forest. 'Twas nigh unto nightfall ere all had entered therein.\n\nThen the king asked whither all this folk were bound, and Bran de Lis\nanswered, \"Sire, they go to meet their lord, and to do him honour, for\nnever before this hath he led his lady hither. I tell ye of a truth\nthat each one of his barons will dub three new knights, to honour and\npleasure him, for so have they sworn, and for that doth he owe them\nright good will.\"\n\nWhat more may I tell ye? All night they held great feast through the\ncity, with many lights in castle, tower, and hall. They blazed upon\nthe walls, the trees, and round about the meadows, till that the great\nburg seemed all aflame, and all night long they heard the sound of\nsong and loud rejoicing.\n\nThen the king betook him to rest, and at dawn Sir Ywain prayed as\ngift the joust which Kay had given unto him. The king made no\ngainsaying, but after meat they armed their comrade well and\nfittingly, and he mounted quickly, and took shield and lance; nor did\nhe long await a foe, for there rode forth from the castle one well\narmed, on a strong and swift steed, and spurred upon Sir Ywain. He\nsmote him so that his lance brake, and Sir Ywain smote him again with\nsuch force that he bare him to earth ere that his lance failed. Then\nhe rode upon him with unsheathed sword, and by weight of his steed\nbare him to earth when he had fain arisen, and trod him underfoot so\nhardly that, whether he would or no, he must needs yield. Then Sir\nYwain took his pledge, and led him without more ado to the pavilion,\nand delivered him to the king.\n\nSuch was the day's gain, but know that 'twas one of the new made\nknights, not of the mesnie of the Rich Soudoier. And when he was\ndisarmed the king spake unto him in the hearing of all his men, and\nsaid, \"Fair friend, whence do ye come, and of what land may ye be?\"\n\nThen he answered, \"Sire, I am of Ireland, and son to the Count\nBrangelis, and ever have I served the lady of the Rich Soudoier. She\nbade me carve before her, and my lord for love of her yestermorn made\nme knight, and as guerdon for my service they granted me the joust;\nyet, but for my lady who prayed for me this grace, they had not given\nit to me, since within the walls there be many a good man and true who\nwas sore vexed thereat.\"\n\n\"Friend,\" quoth Sir Gawain, \"know ye, perchance, the which of them\nshall joust on the morrow?\"\n\n\"Certes, Sir, I should know right well; 'tis the lord of the castle\nhimself who shall be first on the field, and I will tell ye how I know\nthis. 'Tis the custom therein that each morn the maidens mount the\nwalls, and she who first beholds the armed knight take the field, 'tis\nher knight who shall ride forth against him. Yestereven my lady\nassembled all the maidens and prayed of them that they would let her\nalone mount the wall--thus shall the joust be as I tell ye.\"\n\nStraightway Sir Gawain sprang to his feet, and went before the king,\nand demanded the joust, but Arthur forbade him saying, \"Fair nephew,\nye shall not go to-morrow, but later, ere it be my turn, 'tis for us\ntwain to ride the last jousts; ye shall have it when all save I have\nproved themselves.\"\n\n\"Sire, Sire, I shall be sore shamed an ye deny me this gift; never\nmore shall I be joyful, nor will I ride joust in this land, but will\nget me hence alone!\"\n\nQuoth the king, \"An it be thus ye may have it.\" And Sir Gawain\nanswered, \"I thank ye, Sire.\"\n\nThus they passed the night, and at daybreak, when the dew lay thick\nupon the grass, Sir Gawain arose, and Sir Ywain with him. Know that\nthe morning was so fine, so fair and clear, as if 'twere made to be\ngazed on. Then he who was no coward washed face and hands and feet in\nthe dew, and gat him back to the pavilion. There they brought him a\nwadded vest, of purple, bordered with samite, and he donned it, and\nfastened on his armlets deftly.\n\nAnd ere he was fully armed the king his uncle had risen, and they gat\nthem to Mass, and when Mass was said, to meat. When they had well\ndined they bade bring thither the armour, and Sir Gawain sat him on a\nrich carpet, spread on the ground in the midst of the tent, and there\nwas never a knight but stood around uncovered, till that he had armed\nhim at his leisure with all that pertaineth to assault and defence, so\nthat he had naught to do save but to set forth.\n\nThen they led unto him his steed, all covered with a rich trapping,\nand he mounted, and sat thereon, so goodly to look upon that never\nmight ye hear speak of a fairer knight. Excalibur, his good sword, did\nKing Arthur hand to him, and he girt it round him as he sat on the\nsaddle, lightly, so that it vexed him not. Then he took shield and\nlance, and departed from them, making great speed for the meadow.\n\nNow the adventure telleth that he had been there but short space when\nfrom the master tower of the castle a horn was sounded long and clear,\nso that for a league around the earth quivered by reason of the echo\nof the blast, and Sir Bran de Lis spake to the king, \"Sire, in short\nspace shall ye see the Rich Soudoier come forth armed on his steed,\nfor they sound not the horn thus save for his arming. I know well by\nthe long blast that he laceth on his spurs.\"\n\nThen the horn sounded a second time, and he said, \"By my faith, now\nhath he donned and laced his greaves.\"\n\nFor a long space there was silence, and again the horn rang forth so\nloudly that all the castle re-echoed, and the lord of Lys said, \"Sire,\nnow hath he donned his hauberk and laced his helm.\" With that the horn\nsounded once again, \"Now, Sire, he is mounted, and the horn will be\nblown no more to-day.\"\n\nThis had the good knight told them truly, for the burg was all astir:\nhe who bare lordship therein rode proudly down from the castle, and\nafter him so many of his folk that they of the pavilion heard the\nsound of their tread, though they might not behold them. Even to the\ngate they bare him company, and as he issued forth the king's men\nbeheld him covered with a silken robe, even to his spurs, his banner\nin his hand. Then they saw a great crowd mount to the battlements to\nwatch the combat of the twain; the walls were covered even to the\ngateways, so that 'twas a marvel to behold.\n\nThus the lord of the castle came proudly to the meadow where Sir\nGawain awaited him, and when he saw him he gripped his shield tightly,\nand made ready for the onslaught. Then they laid their lances in rest,\nand shook forth their blazons, and smote their spurs into their\nsteeds; nor did the joust fail, for they came together with such force\nof steed and shield and body that, an they would or no, both came to\nthe ground in mid meadow and the good steeds fell over them. But the\ntwain were full of valour, and arose up lightly, and drew their\nswords, and ran boldly on each other. Then might ye behold a dour\ncombat, and a sight for many folk, for with great wrath they dealt\neach other mighty blows, so that all who beheld were astonied, and the\nking was in sore dread for his nephew, and they of the castle for\ntheir lord.\n\nFrom either side many a prayer went up to Heaven that their champion\nmight return safe and whole. And the twain spared not themselves, but\neach with shining blade smote the other, so that their strength waned\napace. For know that that day there was so great a heat that never\nsince hath the like been known, and that heat vexed and weakened them\nsore.\n\nNow know ye of a certain truth that my lord Sir Gawain waxed ever in\nstrength, doubling his force from midnight, and even till noon was\npast and the day waned did his strength endure, but then he somewhat\nweakened till 'twas midnight again. This I tell ye of a truth, 'twas\nearly morn that they fought thus in the meadow, and greatly did this\ngift aid him, and great evil it wrought to the Rich Soudoier. Neither\nhad conquered aught on the other till it waxed high noon. If the one\ndealt mighty blows the other knew right well how to return them with\nwrath and vigour; 'twas hard to say the which were the better, and all\nmarvelled much that neither was as yet or slain or put to the worse.\n\n'Twas the Soudoier who first gave ground; by reason of the over great\nheat so sore a thirst seized him that he might no longer endure the\nheavy blows, and well nigh fell to the earth. When Sir Gawain felt his\nfoe thus weakening he pressed him the more, till that he staggered on\nhis feet, and Sir Gawain ran on him with such force that both fell to\nthe ground. But the king's nephew sprang to his feet lightly and\ncried, \"Vassal, yield ye prisoner ere I slay ye!\" but his foe was so\ndazed that for a space he might speak no word.\n\nWhen he gat breath and speech he sighed forth, \"Ah, God, who will slay\nme? Since she be dead I care naught for my life.\"\n\nSir Gawain wondered much what the words might mean, and he shook him\nby the vizor, and when he saw that he took no heed he spake again,\n\"Sir Knight, yield to me!\" And he sighed, \"Suddenly was she slain who\nwas fairest in the world; I loved her with a passing great love!\"\n\nWhen Sir Gawain saw that he would answer none otherwise, conjure him\nas he might, he cut the laces of his helmet, and saw that he lay with\nhis eyes closed as one in a swoon; by reason of the great heat and his\nsore thirst he had lost all colour, and was senseless. Sir Gawain was\nvexed in that he might not win from him speech, neither by word nor by\nblow, yet was he loth to slay him; nor would he leave him lying; for\nhe thought an he slew him he might lose all he would gain by his\nvictory, and should he get him back to the pavilion to seek aid to\nbear his prisoner hence, on his return he would surely find him gone.\nThus was he much perplexed in mind. Then he doffed his helm, and sat\nhim down beside the knight, sheathing Excalibur, and taking the sword\nof his foe. In a short space the Soudoier came again to himself, and\nseeing him sit thus, asked of him his name. Then he answered\nstraightway, and when the other knew 'twas Gawain, he said, \"Sir, now\nknow I for a certainty that ye be the best knight in the world.\" Then\nhe held his peace, and spake no further, and Sir Gawain looked upon\nhim, and said, \"Fair Sir Knight, bear me no ill will for aught ye may\nhave heard me say, but come with me, an ye will, to yonder pavilion,\nand we will take your pledge.\"\n\nThen the Rich Soudoier answered, \"I have a lady I love more than my\nlife, and if she die then must I needs die too, so soon as I hear tell\nthereof. I pray ye, sir, for God's sake, for love's sake, for\ngentleness, for courtesy, save me my love that she die not, by\ncovenant that, whether for right or for wrong, no man of the Castle\nOrguellous shall henceforth be against ye. Fair sir, an ye will do for\nme that which I now pray, I will pledge my faith to do all the king's\nwill, nor shall there be therein man of arms whom I will not make\nswear the same. But an if my lady knew thereof, as God be my witness,\nshe would die straightway, for never would she believe that ye had\nconquered me; 'tis truth I tell ye! Now of your courtesy, Sir Knight,\nI pray of ye this great service, that ye come back with me to the\ncastle, that ye there do me honour, and kneeling to my lady declare ye\nher prisoner; an ye will thus make feint and say I have vanquished ye\nin fair field, then shall ye save my life, and that of my most sweet\nlady, and if ye will not do thus, then slay me here and now!\"\n\nThen that gentle knight, Sir Gawain, remembered him of how he had\nfound him aforetime in the forest beneath the tower, and how the\nmaiden who rode to keep tryst feared for his life, and he knew that he\nloved his lady with so great a love that he would die an she knew him\nto be shamed, and he thought within himself 'twas over much cruelty to\nslay so good a knight, and he answered. \"Fair sir, certes will I go\nwith ye to the Castle Orguellous, and there yield me captive, nor will\nI forbear for any doubt or misgiving. It might well turn to my shame,\nbut even if I should die thereby, I would not, Sir Knight, that ye or\nyour lady be wronged or aggrieved.\"\n\nThen the knight spake frankly, \"Sir, I am your liege man all the days\nof my life.\" And he gave him his hand, and sware straitly that he\nwould do all the king's pleasure. And when Sir Gawain had taken his\noath, straightway the two mounted their steeds and betook them to the\nCastle Orguellous.\n\nWell nigh did King Arthur die of wrath when he saw his nephew ride\nhence, and he cried, \"Now am I indeed bereft if my nephew be led\ntherein; now will they hold him prisoner! Think ye, my lords, that he\nbe of a truth captive?\"\n\n\"Yea, Sire, of a faith, so it seemeth, yet are we greatly in marvel\nthereat, for we know certainly that he had vanquished and overthrown\nhis adversary. Never so great an ill hap hath befallen any knight, for\nere the knight of the castle rose we said surely that he was\nconquered!\"\n\nThe king had no heart to hearken longer, but betook him straightway to\nhis bed; cause enow had he for woe, or so it seemed him!\n\nBut they of the castle sped joyously to meet their lord, whom they\nthought to have lost, and ran to bear the tidings to the lady, who was\nwell nigh distraught with grief, and anger, and they told her that her\nlord came again. \"And he leadeth by the bridle, as one conquered, Sir\nGawain!\"\n\nEven at these words came the knights unto the gateway, and dismounted,\nand Sir Gawain speedily yielded him prisoner to the maiden, saying,\n\"Lady, take here my sword, and know of a proven truth that this good\nknight, your true lover, hath vanquished me by force of arms.\"\n\nNever since the hour ye were born did ye see such rejoicing as the\nmaiden made, and the Rich Soudoier spake, saying, \"Ride ye to my\ncastle of Bouvies with five hundred knights, and make ready the\nchambers. I will be with ye to-morrow, and would fain sojourn there;\nwe will have but few folk with us. Marvel not at this, for to-day have\nI been over much wearied.\"\n\nAnd the maiden answered, \"Ye have well said; the castle is very fair\nand pleasant.\" With that she was mounted, and the knights set forth to\nconvoy her to the castle. And know ye why he sent her hence? 'Twas\nthat he might tell his men the truth of what had passed.\n\nWhen the lady had departed 'twas made known throughout the castle how\nthe matter had in very truth fallen out, and the lord bade release the\nson of Do, and the butler, and they did his bidding. But when Sir\nGawain saw Giflet he ran towards him, and kissed him more than a\nhundred times, and made marvellous great joy of him. Then they sat\nthem down on a bench, side by side, and held converse together. And\nwhen the twain who had fought were disarmed they brought for the four\nvery fair robes of rich and royal cloth; never had ye seen such. Then\nthe Soudoier bade saddle four steeds, and they mounted, and rode thus\nadown the street.\n\nThus they four alone took their way to the pavilion, and the king's\nmen beheld them, even as they came forth from the castle gateway, and\nSir Ywain cried, \"By my faith, and no lie, I see four men come hither,\nand all four be knights, so it seemeth me!\" And Kay answered, \"I see\nthem too!\"\n\nAnd when they came so near to the pavilion that their faces might be\nseen, Sir Ywain ran joyfully to the king. \"Sire, Sire, an God help me,\nhere cometh Sir Gawain, and with him three others, all hand in hand:\nthere be the son of Do, and Sir Lucains, and for the fourth a great\nknight!\"\n\nThe king answered no word, but made semblance as if he heard not, and\nrose not from his couch, save that he raised himself somewhat higher\nthereon.\n\nIn a little space he spake to his knights, \"Be not over dismayed, but\nmake as fair a countenance as ye may; methinks they come thither to\nbid us return with them to prison, but I go not hence ere that I be\nvanquished, or have freed my comrades.\" And all answered, \"Well\nspoken, Sire!\"\n\nBut now had the four come so nigh that they had dismounted, and come\nbefore the king; never was seen such rejoicing as his lord made of\nGiflet, but now was he in sore distress, and, lo! his sorrow was\nturned to joy! Why should I lie to ye? The Rich Soudoier told him how\nSir Gawain had conquered him, and how, by his courtesy, he had given\nlife to him and to his fair lady; and the king hearkened to the tale\nright willingly.\n\nNow will I leave speaking of them, but this much will I say, that well\nmight the lord of the castle love and cherish him who first overcame\nhim by arms and then did him so great honour as to yield him to his\nlady so that his life might thereby be saved. So here will I hold my\npeace, no, nor speak further, save to tell ye that now was the king\nlord alike of the Castle Orguellous and the lands around; never in all\nhis days did he make so great a conquest, as Bleheris doth witness to\nus.\n\n\n\n\nNotes\n\n\nPage 3.--_The knights rode gaily ahead._ This episode, in practically\nidentical form, is found as the introduction to the head-cutting\nchallenge, of which in Wauchier's compilation Carados is the hero.\nThis double use of the same incident appears to me significant in face\nof the fact that the 'Carados' story is an inferior version of our\n'_Syr Gawayne and the Grene Knyghte_.' It seems to me most probable\nthat our poem represents an elaborated version of an adventure which\noriginally formed part of the compilation utilised by Wauchier in his\ncontinuation of the '_Perceval_,' and that the passage here given\nformed the introductory episode of the group.\n\nPage 5.--_At Carnarvon._ In some of the texts Carduel is substituted\nfor Carnarvon.\n\nPage 5.--_Galvoie, a land where many a man goeth astray._ For the\nmysterious character attached to Galvoie (Galloway), and its\nconnection with the Other-world, cf. '_Legend of Sir Perceval_,' pp.\n186-192.\n\nPage 7.--_When Sir Gawain beheld this._ There are two distinct\nversions of Arthur's rebuke to his knights; the one given in the text\nis found in B.N. 12576 (the source of this translation), B.N. 1429,\nEdinburgh, and Montpellier. The other version, in which Arthur refuses\nto explain what he means, and locks himself in his 'loge,' the door\nof which is broken open by his indignant knights, who insist upon\nknowing the reason of his accusation, is found in B.N. 12577; 794;\n1453; and Mons. This latter version seems to me an unintelligent\nexpansion of that in our text. Arthur's desire is to incite his\nknights to the rescue of their comrade, not to heap unnecessary insult\nupon them. The fact that here Ywain is specially coupled with Gawain\nshould be noted. Ywain is one of the earliest of Arthurian heroes,\nappearing in the chronicles; whenever we find him in a position of\nimportance there is at least the possibility that we are dealing with\nthe survival of an early and genuine Arthurian tradition.\n\nPage 15.--_Now will I tell ye their names._ The list of knights taking\npart in the expedition varies somewhat in the different texts. It is\nnoteworthy that Lancelot is occasionally omitted, and that nowhere\ndoes he hold a prominent position. This group of stories was\nmanifestly composed at a period when that hero was still practically\nunknown to Arthurian tradition.\n\nPage 16.--_One day the king came forth from a very great forest._ An\nEnglish version of the adventure which follows will be found in Sir\nFrederick Madden's '_Syr Gawayne_,' under the title of '_Kay and the\nSpit_.'\n\nPage 25.--_The tale is here over long._ Throughout the whole section\ndevoted by Wauchier to the _Gawain_ in contradistinction to the\n_Perceval_ adventures, there are constant references to the length and\nimportance of the '_grand conte_' of which they formed a part. There\nare numerous 'Perilous Cemeteries' in Arthurian romance, _e.g._ there\nis one in the prose _Lancelot_, which Hector and Gawain attempt, and\nare worsted: another in _Perlesvaus_, and a third forms the subject of\na special poem, '_L'Atre Perilleus_.' Of this last Gawain is the hero.\nThere is a cemetery connected with the adventure of the Chapel of the\nBlack Hand, and one in the _Queste_. It is impossible to determine the\ntale to which the compiler here alludes.\n\nPage 28.--_Esterlins_, _besants_, &c. The original is _Esterlins,\nporpres, e besans, Deniers de muce e d'aufricains_. The correct\ntranslation is doubtful. _Porpres_ is a texture, and seems to be out\nof place among an enumeration of coins. '_Deniers de muce_' is found\nin no dictionary or article on coins. _Muce_ may signify _a hiding\nplace_, hence the treasure-trove of the translation; or, as M. Paul\nMeyer suggests, _muce_ may be an error for _murcie_, which would be\nthe equivalent of Spanish, at that period Saracen, money. Du Cange,\nunder the heading of '_Africanus_,' gives '_Moneta Saracenorum_.' It\nis noteworthy that the MSS. of later date omit these lines.\n\nPage 29.--_Grails of silver._ This is the only instance I know in\nwhich the word _Grail_ is used in a general sense, and it is of value\nas indicating the meaning which the writers of that period attached to\nthe word.\n\nPage 38.--_Ider de Lis._ The father's name is more generally given as\nNorres de Lis. Llys is the Welsh for castle, and the spelling of the\nword varies in the texts. Brandelis is, as a rule, written in one\nword, and spelt with an _i_; when the castle alone is spoken of it is\nwritten Lys. I have endeavoured to indicate this peculiarity in the\ntranslation. Cf. Gawain's appeal to his uncle to eat, and Arthur's\nrefusal, with _Arthur_ and _Gorlagon_ published by Prof. Kittredge;\ncf. _Folk-Lore_, March 1904, where a translation of this curious tale,\nwith explanatory comment, is given.\n\nPage 41.--_A comrade for Huden._ Huden, or Hudenc, is Tristan's dog.\nThe reference is interesting, as showing a knowledge of the _Tristan_\nstory on the part of the compiler. That hero, however, plays no part\nin this group of tales.\n\nPage 48.--_There came forth a damosel._ The lady's name is not given\nhere, but later on she is called Guilorete, and in other texts\nGloriete.\n\n\nII\n\nPage 63.--_Castle Orguellous._ This adventure, under the title of\n'_Gawain and Golagros_,' will be found in Madden's '_Syr Gawayne_,'\nbut the version is much condensed. In the English poem Espinogres\nplays the _r\u00f4le_ here assigned to Bran de Lis, and explains the\ncustoms of the castle.\n\nPage 70.--_'Tis ill done to summon evil._ The original gives '_On ne\ndoit pas mal senechier_.' This latter word appears to be unknown. I\nsubmitted the passage to M. Paul Meyer, who thinks it may be a fault\nof the copyist; at the same time, Godefroi gives the noun\n_senechiance_ as equivalent to _segnefiance_, and a verb may have been\nconstructed from this. The corresponding passage in B.N. 12577 runs\n'_Nul ne doit le mal prononcier_.' In an article in _Folk-Lore_ for\nMarch 1907, Miss Goodrich Freer quotes a Gaelic proverb, 'Ill will\ncome if mentioned.' This seems to be the equivalent of our text.\n\nPage 87.--_A horn was sounded._ In the English version a small bell is\nrung. Much less stress is laid upon the arming of the knight, which\nhere is a most picturesque and effective passage.\n\nPage 93.--_When that gentle knight Sir Gawain._ Gawain's extreme\ncourtesy, and the consequent dismay of the king, are related in much\nthe same terms, but more condensed, in the English poem. It seems\npossible that it was this adventure of the Rich Soudoier which\nsuggested the figure of Galehault, '_le haut prince_' in the prose\nLancelot. Both are distinguished for their height, their beauty, and\ntheir opposition to Arthur. Both, alike, became the King's friends\nthrough the courtesy and feigned submission of the knights Gawain and\nLancelot. The parallel is worth working out.\n\nPage 98.--_As Bleheris doth witness to us._ Other forms of the name\nare Bleobleheris (B.N. 1453) and Bliobliheri (B.N. Add. 36614). This\nlatter MS. at a later stage of the same collection again cites\nBleheris as authority for the story of Gawain and the magic shield; he\nis there said to have been born and brought up in Wales. He is\nprobably identical with the Bledhericus mentioned by Giraldus\nCambrensis as a famous story teller, '_famosus ille fabulator_.' For a\nfull discussion of the whole question see my _Legend of Sir Perceval_.\n\n\n    Printed by Ballantyne & Co. Limited\n         Tavistock Street, London\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note\n\nArchaic spelling is preserved as printed.\n\nHyphenation has been made consistent.\n\nTypographic errors have been amended as follows:\n\n    Page 5--thoughout amended to throughout--... and all the\n    barons throughout the land ...\n\n    Page 7--Yder amended to Ydier--... nephew was he to king\n    Ydier, ...\n\n    Page 15--Lucans amended to Lucains--... Kay, and Lucains, the\n    butler.\n\nThe frontispiece illustration has been moved to follow the title page.\n\nRepeated titles have been deleted.","title":"Sir Gawain and the Lady of Lys","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":22622}