{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_750/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_750","id":"gutenberg_750","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/750","summary":null,"tags":["Arthurian romances","Category: British Literature","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Grail -- Legends","Perceval (Legendary character) -- Romances"],"text":"Produced by Douglas B. Killings.  HTML version by Al Haines.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nOriginally written in Old French, sometime in the early half of the\n13th Century A.D., as a continuation of Chretien DeTroyes' unfinished\nwork \"Perceval, or the Knight of the Grail\".  Author unknown.\n\nTranslation by Sebastian Evans, 1898.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe High History of the Holy Graal\n\n\n\n\n\nSELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY:\n\nORIGINAL TEXT--\n\nPotvin, Ch. (Ed.): \"Perceval le Gallois ou le conte du Graal\", Vol. I\n(Soc. Bibl. Belges., Mons., 1866).\n\nRECOMMENDED READING--\n\nAnonymous (Trans. P.M. Matarasso): \"The Quest for the Holy Graal\"\n(Penguin Classics, London, 1969).\n\nDeTroyes, Chretien (Trans. William W. Kibler & Carleton W. Carroll):\n\"Arthurian Romances\" (Penguin Classics, London, 1991). Contains the\nunfinished work \"Perceval\".\n\nEschenbach, Wolfram von (Trans. A.T. Hatto): \"Parzival\" (Penguin\nClassics, London, 1980).\n\nMalory, Sir Thomas (Ed. Janet Cowen): \"Le Morte D'Arthur\", Vol. I & II\n(Penguin Classics, London, 1969).\n\n*****************************************************************\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nThis book is translated from the first volume of \"Perceval le Gallois\nou le conte du Graal\"; edited by M. Ch. Potvin for 'La Societe des\nBibliophiles Belges' in 1866, (1) from the MS. numbered 11,145 in the\nlibrary of the Dukes of Burgundy at Brussels.  This MS. I find thus\ndescribed in M. F. J. Marchal's catalogue of that priceless collection:\n'\"Le Roman de Saint Graal\", beginning \"Ores lestoires\", in the French\nlanguage; date, first third of the sixteenth century; with ornamental\ncapitals.' (2)  Written three centuries later than the original\nromance, and full as it is of faults of the scribe, this manuscript is\nby far the most complete known copy of the \"Book of the Graal\" in\nexistence, being defective only in Branch XXI. Titles 8 and 9, the\nsubstance of which is fortunately preserved elsewhere.  Large\nfragments, however, amounting in all to nearly one-seventh of the\nwhole, of a copy in handwriting of the thirteenth century, are\npreserved in six consecutive leaves and one detached leaf bound up with\na number of other works in a MS. numbered 113 in the City Library at\nBerne.  The volume is in folio on vellum closely written in three\ncolumns to the page, and the seven leaves follow the last poem\ncontained in it, entitled \"Duremart le Gallois\". The manuscript is well\nknown, having been lent to M. de Sainte Palaye for use in the Monuments\nof French History issued by the Benedictines of the Congregation of St\nMaur.  Selections from the poems it contains are given in Sinner's\n\"Extraits de Poesie du XIII. Siecle\", (3) and it is described,\nunfortunately without any reference to these particular leaves, by the\nsame learned librarian in the \"Catalogus Codicum MSS. Bibl. Bernensis\",\nJ.R. Sinner. (4)\n\nM. Potvin has carefully collated for his edition all that is preserved\nof the Romance in this manuscript, comprising all the beginning of the\nwork as far as Branch III. Title 8, about the middle, and from Branch\nXIX. Title 23, near the beginning, to Branch XXX. Title 5, in the\nmiddle.  Making allowance for variations of spelling and sundry minor\ndifferences of reading, by no means always in favour of the earlier\nscribe, the Berne fragments are identical with the corresponding\nportions of the Brussels manuscript, and it is therefore safe to assume\nthat the latter is on the whole an accurate transcript of the entire\noriginal Romance.\n\nThe only note of time in the book itself is contained in the\ndeclaration at the end.  From this it appears that it was written by\norder of the Seingnor of Cambrein for Messire Jehan the Seingnor of\nNeele.  M. Potvin, without giving any reason for so doing, assumes that\nthis Lord of Cambrein is none other than the Bishop of Cambrai.  If\nthis assumption be correct, the person referred to was probably either\nJohn of Berhune, who held the see from 1200 till July 27, 1219, or his\nsuccessor Godfrey of Fontaines (Conde), who held it till 1237.  To me,\nhowever, it seems more likely that the personage intended was in\nreality the 'Seingnor' of Cambrin, the chef-lieu of a canton of the\nsame name, on a small hill overlooking the peat-marshes of Bethune,\nalbeit I can find no other record of any such landed proprietor's\nexistence.\n\nBe this as it may, the Messire Jehan, Seingnor of Neele, can hardly be\nother than the John de Nesle who was present at the battle of Bouvines\nin 1214, and who in 1225 sold the lordship of Bruges to Joan of\nFlanders. (5)  These dates therefore may be regarded as defining that\nof the original Romance within fairly narrow limits.\n\nThis conclusion is confirmed by other evidence.  An early Welsh\ntranslation of the story was published with an English version and a\nglossary by the Rev. Robert Williams in the first volume of his\n\"Selections from the Hengwrt MSS\". (6)  The first volume of this work\nis entitled \"Y Seint Greal, being the adventures of King Arthur's\nknights of the Round Table, in the quest of the Holy Grail, and on\nother occasions.  Originally written about the year 1200\".  The volume,\nfollowing the manuscript now in the library of W.W.E. Wynne, Esq., at\nPeniarth, is divided into two parts.  The first, fol. 1-109 of the\nmanuscript, represents the thirteenth to the seventeenth book of Sir\nThomas Malory's \"Morte d'Arthur\".  Of the second, which represents the\nRomance here translated, Mr Williams writes: \"The second portion of the\nWelsh Greal, folios 110-280, contains the adventures of Gwalchmei\nPeredur and Lancelot, and of the knights of the Round Table; but these\nare not found in the \"Morte d'Arthur\".  The Peniarth MS. is beautifully\nwritten on vellum, and in perfect preservation, and its date is that of\nHenry VI., the early part of the fifteenth century.  The orthography\nand style of writing agrees literally with that of the \"Mabinogion of\nthe Llyvr Coch Hergest\", which is of that date.  This, of course, is a\ntranscript of an earlier copy; but there is no certainty when it was\nfirst translated into Welsh, though Aneurin Owen in his \"Catalogue of\nthe Hengwrt MSS.\" assigns it to the sixth year of Henry I.  It is\nmentioned by Davydd ab Gwilym, who died in 1368.\"\n\nWhatever may be the date of the Welsh version, the translator had no\ngreat mastery of French, and is often at fault as to the meaning both\nof words and sentences, and when in a difficulty is only too apt to cut\nthe knot by omitting the passage bodily.  The book itself, moreover, is\nnot entire.  On page 275, all between Branch IX. Title 16 and Branch\nXI. Title 2, twenty-two chapters in all, is missing.  Again, on page\n355, Titles 10-16 in Branch XXI. are left out, while the whole of the\nlast Branch, containing 28 Titles, is crumpled up into one little\nchapter, from which it would seem that the Welshman had read the\nFrench, but thought it waste of pains to translate it.  In all, not to\nspeak of other defects, there are fifty-six whole chapters in the\npresent book, of which there is not a word in the Welsh.\n\nIn one matter, however, Mr Williams' English translation has stood me\nin good stead.  In Branch XXI., as I have said, the French manuscript\nmakes default of two Titles, but almost the whole of their substance is\nsupplied by the Welsh version.  By an unlucky accident, before the\nhiatus in the French is fully filled up, the Welsh version itself\nbecomes defective, though the gap thus left open can hardly extend\nbeyond a very few words. Without this supplement, incomplete as it is,\nit would have been impossible to give the full drift of one of the\nRomancer's best stories, which is equally unintelligible in both the\nFrench and Welsh texts in their present state.\n\nAs the Welsh version gives a number of names both of persons and places\nwidely differing from those in the French, it may be useful here to\nnote the principal changes made.  Perceval in the Welsh is called\nPeredur, which is said to mean \"steel suit\".  The Welshman, however,\nadds that the name in French is \"Peneffresvo Galief\", which, unless it\nbe a misreading or miswriting for Perceval le Galois, is to me wholly\nunintelligible.  Perceval's father, Alain li Gros, is in the Welsh Earl\nEvrawg, and his sister Dindrane, Danbrann.  King Arthur is Emperor\nArthur, his Queen Guenievre, Gwenhwyvar, and their son Lohot, Lohawt or\nLlacheu.  Messire Gawain is Gwalchmei; Chaus, son of Ywain li Aoutres,\nGawns, son of Owein Vrych; Messire Kay or Kex is Kei the Long; Ahuret\nthe Bastard, Anores; Ygerne, wife of Uther Pendragon, Eigyr; Queen\nJandree, Landyr; and King Fisherman for the most part King Peleur.  Of\nplaces, Cardoil is Caerlleon on Usk, Pannenoisance, Penvoisins;\nTintagel, Tindagoyl; and Avalon, Avallach.\n\nBy a double stroke of ill-luck, the complete and wholly independent\nRomance here translated has thus been printed by its two former editors\nas if it were only a part of some other story. M. Potvin describes it\nas the \"First Part, the Romance in Prose,\" of his \"Perceval le\nGallois\", and Mr Williams accepts it as the \"Second Portion\" of his \"Y\nSeint Greal\".  This unhappy collocation has led not a few of M.\nPotvin's readers to neglect his First Part, under the impression that\nthe story is retold in the other volumes containing the Romance in\nverse; while not a few of Mr Williams' readers have neglected his\nSecond Portion under the impression that there could be nothing of any\nspecial importance in an adjunct referred to by the Editor in so\nperfunctory a manner.  In very truth, however, the Story of the Holy\nGraal here told is not only the most coherent and poetic of all the\nmany versions of the Legend, but is also the first and most authentic.\n\nThis seems to be proved beyond doubt by a passage in the History of\nFulke Fitz-Warine, originally written apparently between the years 1256\nand 1264.  The passage occurs at the end of the History, and is printed\nin verse of which I give a literal prose translation:\n\n     \"Merlin saith that in Britain the Great a Wolf shall come\n     from the White Launde.  Twelve sharp teeth shall he have,\n     six below and six above.  He shall have so fierce a look\n     that he shall chase the Leopard forth of the White Launde,\n     so much force shall he have and great virtue.  We now know\n     that Merlin said this for Fulke the son of Waryn, for each\n     of you ought to understand of a surety how in the time of\n     the King Arthur that was called the White Launde which is\n     now named the White Town.  For in this country was the\n     chapel of S. Austin that was fair, where Kahuz, the son of\n     Ywein, dreamed that he carried off the candlestick and that\n     he met a man who hurt him with a knife and wounded him in\n     the side.  And he, on sleep, cried out so loud that King\n     Arthur hath heard him and awakened from sleep.  And when\n     Kahuz was awake, he put his hand to his side.  There hath he\n     found the knife that had smitten him through.  SO TELLETH US\n     THE GRAAL, THE BOOK OF THE HOLY VESSEL.  There the King\n     Arthur recovered his bounty and his valour when he had lost\n     all his chivalry and his virtue.  From this country issued\n     forth the Wolf as saith Merlin the Wise, and the twelve\n     sharp teeth have we known by his shield.  He bore a shield\n     indented as the heralds have devised.  In the shield are\n     twelve teeth of gules and argent.  By the Leopard may be\n     known and well understood King John, for he bore in his\n     shield the leopards of beaten gold.\" (7)\n\nThe story of Kahuz or Chaus here indicated by the historian is told at\nlength in the opening chapters of the present work and, so far as is\nknown, nowhere else.  The inference is therefore unavoidable that we\nhave here \"The Graal, the Book of the Holy Vessel\" to which the\nbiographer of Fulke refers.  The use, moreover, of the definite article\nshows that the writer held this book to be conclusive authority on the\nsubject.  By the time he retold the story of Fulke, a whole library of\nRomances about Perceval and the Holy Graal had been written, with some\nof which it is hard to believe that any historian of the time was\nunacquainted.  He nevertheless distinguishes this particular story as\n\"The Graal\", a way of speaking he would scarce have adopted had he\nknown of any other \"Graals\" of equal or nearly equal authority.\n\nSeveral years later, about 1280, the trouveur Sarrazin also cites \"The\nGraal\" (\"li Graaus\") in the same manner, in superfluous verification of\nthe then-accepted truism that King Arthur was at one time Lord of Great\nBritain.  This appeal to \"The Graal\" as the authority for a general\nbelief shows that it was at that time recognised as a well-spring of\nauthentic knowledge; while the fact that the trouveur was not\nconfounding \"The Graal\" with the later version of the story is further\nshown by his going on presently to speak of \"the Romance that Chrestien\ntelleth so fairly of Perceval the adventures of the Graal.\" (8)\n\nPerhaps, however, the most striking testimony to the fact that this\nwork is none other than the original \"Book of the Graal\" is to be found\nin the \"Chronicle of Helinand\", well known at the time the Romance was\nwritten not only as a historian but as a troubadour at one time in high\nfavour at the court of Philip Augustus, and in later years as one of\nthe most ardent preachers of the Albigensian Crusade.  The passage, a\npart of which has been often quoted, is inserted in the Chronicle under\nthe year 720, and runs in English thus:\n\n     \"At this time a certain marvellous vision was revealed by an\n     angel to a certain hermit in Britain concerning S. Joseph,\n     the decurion who deposed from the cross the Body of Our\n     Lord, as well as concerning the paten or dish in the which\n     Our Lord supped with His disciples, whereof the history was\n     written out by the said hermit and is called \"Of the Graal\"\n     (de Gradali).  Now, a platter, broad and somewhat deep, is\n     called in French \"gradalis\" or \"gradale\", wherein costly\n     meats with their sauce are wont to be set before rich folk\n     by degrees (\"gradatim\") one morsel after another in divers\n     orders, and in the vulgar speech it is called \"graalz\", for\n     that it is grateful and acceptable to him that eateth\n     therein, as well for that which containeth the victual, for\n     that haply it is of silver or other precious material, as\n     for the contents thereof, to wit, the manifold courses of\n     costly meats.  I have not been able to find this history\n     written in Latin, but it is in the possession of certain\n     noblemen written in French only, nor, as they say, can it\n     easily be found complete.  This, however, I have not\n     hitherto been able to obtain from any person so as to read\n     it with attention.  As soon as I can do so, I will translate\n     into Latin such passages as are more useful and more likely\n     to be true.\" (9)\n\nA comparison of this passage with the Introduction to the present work\n(10) leaves no doubt that Helinand here refers to this \"Book of the\nGraal\", which cannot therefore be of a later date than that at which he\nmade this entry in his \"Chronicle\".  At the same time, the difficulty\nhe experienced in obtaining even the loan of the volume shows that the\nwork had at that time been only lately written, as in the course of a\nfew years, copies of a book so widely popular must have been\ncomparatively common.  The date, therefore, at which Helinand's\n\"Chronicle\" was written determines approximately that of the \"Book of\nthe Graal\".\n\nIn its present state, the \"Chronicle\" comes to an end with a notice of\nthe capture of Constantinople by the French in 1204, and it has been\nhastily assumed that Helinand's labours as a chronicler must have\nclosed in that year.  As a matter of fact they had not then even begun.\nAt that time Helinand was still a courtly troubadour, and had not yet\nentered on the monastic career during which his \"Chronicle\" was\ncompiled.  He was certainly living as late as 1229, and preached a\nsermon, which assuredly shows no signs of mental decrepitude, in that\nyear at a synod in Toulouse. (11)\n\nFortunately a passage in the \"Speculum Historiale\" of Vincent of\nBeauvais, himself a younger contemporary and probably a personal\nacquaintance of Helinand, throws considerable light on the real date of\nHelinand's \"Chronicle\".  After recounting certain matters connected\nwith the early years of the thirteenth century, the last date mentioned\nbeing 1209, Vincent proceeds:--\n\n     \"In those times, in the diocese of Beauvais, was Helinand\n     monk of Froid-mont, a man religious and distinguished for\n     his eloquence, who also composed those verses on Death in\n     our vulgar tongue which are publicly read, so elegantly and\n     so usefully that the subject is laid open clearer than the\n     light.  He also diligently digested into a certain huge\n     volume a Chronicle from the beginning of the world down to\n     his own time.  But in truth this work was dissipated and\n     dispersed in such sort that it is nowhere to be found\n     entire.  For it is reported that the said Helinand lent\n     certain sheets of the said work to one of his familiars, to\n     wit, Guarin, Lord Bishop of Senlis of good memory, and thus,\n     whether through forgetfulness or negligence or some other\n     cause, lost them altogether.  From this work, however, as\n     far as I have been able to find it, I have inserted many\n     passages in this work of mine own also.\"\n\nIt will thus be seen that about 1209, Helinand became a monk at\nFroid-mont, and it is exceedingly improbable that any portion of his\n\"Chronicle\" was written before that date.  On the other hand, his\n'familiar' Guarin only became Bishop of Senlis in 1214, and died in\n1227, (12) so that it is certain Helinand wrote the last part of his\n\"Chronicle\" not later than the last-mentioned year. The limits of time,\ntherefore, between which the \"Chronicle\" was written are clearly\ncircumscribed; and if it is impossible to define the exact year in\nwhich this particular entry was made, it is not, I fancy, beyond the\nlegitimate bounds of critical conjecture.\n\nOn the first page of the Romance, Helinand read that an Angel had\nappeared to a certain hermit in Britain and revealed to him the history\nof the Holy Graal.  In transferring the record of this event to his\n\"Chronicle\", he was compelled by the exigencies of his system, which\nrequired the insertion of every event recorded under some particular\nyear, to assign a date to the occurrence.  A vague \"five hundred years\nago\" would be likely to suggest itself as an appropriate time at which\nthe occurrence might be supposed to have taken place; and if he were\nwriting in 1220, the revelation to the hermit would thus naturally be\nrelegated to the year 720, the year under which the entry actually\nappears. This, of course, is pure guesswork, but the fact remains that\nthe \"Chronicle\" was written in or about 1220, and the \"Book of the\nGraal\" not long before it.\n\nThe name of the author is nowhere recorded.  He may possibly be\nreferred to in the \"Elucidation\" prefixed to the rhymed version of\n\"Percival le Gallois\" under the name of \"Master Blihis\", but this vague\nand tantalising pseudonym affords no hint of his real identity. (13)\nWhoever he may have been; I hope that I am not misled by a translator's\nnatural partiality for the author he translates in assigning him a\nforemost rank among the masters of medieval prose romance.\n\nWith these testimonies to its age and genuineness, I commend the \"Book\nof the Graal\" to all who love to read of King Arthur and his knights of\nthe Table Round.  They will find here printed in English for the first\ntime what I take to be in all good faith the original story of Sir\nPerceval and the Holy Graal, whole and incorrupt as it left the hands\nof its first author.\n\n--Sebastian Evans,\n  Coombe Lea, Bickley, Kent\n\n\nENDNOTES:\n\n(1)  6 vols. 8vo.  Mons, 1866-1871.\n\n(2)  Marchal \"Cat.\", 2 vols. Brussels, 1842.  Vol i.p. 223.\n\n(3)  Lausanne, 1759.\n\n(4)  3 vols. 8vo.  Berne, 1770, etc.  Vol. ii., Introduc. viii.\n     and p. 389 et seq.\n\n(5)  Rigord. \"Chron.\" 196, p. 288.  Wm. le Breton, \"Phil.\" xi.\n     547.  See also Birch-Hirschfeld, \"Die Gralsage\", p. 143.\n\n(6)  2 vols. 8vo.  London, Richards, 1876-1892.\n\n(7)  \"L'histoire de Foulkes Fitz-Warin\". Ed. F. Michel, Paris,\n     1840; p. 110.  Ed. T. Wright (Warton Club), London, 1855; p.\n     179.  Ed. J. Stevenson (\"Roll, Pub. Chron.\" of R.\n     Coggeshall), London, 1875; p. 412.  The MS. containing the\n     history (MS. Reg. 12. c. XII.) was first privately printed\n     for the late Sir T. Duffus Hardy from a transcript by A.\n     Berbrugger.\n\n(8)  \"Le Roman de Ham\", in the Appendix to F. Michel's \"Histoire\n     des Ducs de Normandie\".  Soc. de l'Hist. de France, 1840,\n     pp. 225, 230.\n\n(9)  Helinandi Op. Ed. Migne. \"Patrol.\" Vol. ccxii. col. 814.\n     The former part of the passage is quoted with due\n     acknowledgment by Vincent of Beauvais, \"Spec. Hist.\" B.\n     xxiii. c. 147.  Vincent, however, spells the French word\n     \"grail\", and, by turning Helinand's \"nec\" into \"nune\", makes\n     him say that the French work can now easily be found\n     complete.  Vincent finished his \"Speculum Historialz in 1244\"\n     B. xxi. c. 105.\n\n(10) Vol. i. p. 1, etc.\n\n(11) Sermon xxvi., printed in Minge, u.s. col. 692.  It has been\n     doubted whether this sermon, preached in the church of S.\n     Jacques, was addressed to the Council held at Toulouse in\n     1219, or to the one held in 1229, but a perusal of the\n     sermon itself decides the question.  It is wholly irrelevant\n     to the topics discussed at the former gathering, while it is\n     one continued commentary on the business transacted at the\n     latter.  See also Dom Brial, \"Hist. Litt. de la France\",\n     xviii. 92.\n\n(12) \"De Mas Latrie. Tres. de Chron.\", col. 1488.\n\n(13) Cf. Potvin, \"P. le G.\" ii. 1 and 7, with vol. i. p. 131 and\n     vol. ii. p. 112 of the present work (See also the\n     Proceedings of the \"Hon. Soc. of Cymmrodorion\", 1908-9. Ed.)\n\n\n\nTHE HIGH HISTORY OF THE HOLY GRAAL\n\n\n\nBRANCH I.\n\n\nINCIPIT.\n\nHear ye the history of the most holy vessel that is called Graal,\nwherein the precious blood of the Saviour was received on the day that\nHe was put on rood and crucified in order that He might redeem His\npeople from the pains of hell.  Josephus set it in remembrance by\nannunciation of the voice of an angel, for that the truth might be\nknown by his writing of good knights, and good worshipful men how they\nwere willing to suffer pain and to travail for the setting forward of\nthe Law of Jesus Christ, that He willed to make new by His death and by\nHis crucifixion.\n\n\nTITLE I.\n\nThe High Book of the Graal beginneth in the name of the Father and of\nthe Son and of the Holy Ghost.  These three Persons are one substance,\nwhich is God, and of God moveth the High Story of the Graal.  And all\nthey that hear it ought to understand it, and to forget all the\nwickednesses that they have in their hearts. For right profitable shall\nit be to all them that shall hear it of the heart.  For the sake of the\nworshipful men and good knights of whose deeds shall remembrance be\nmade, doth Josephus recount this holy history, for the sake of the\nlineage of the Good Knight that was after the crucifixion of Our Lord.\nGood Knight was he without fail, for he was chaste and virgin of his\nbody and hardy of heart and puissant, and so were his conditions\nwithout wickedness.  Not boastful was he of speech, and it seemed not\nby his cheer that he had so great courage; Natheless, of one little\nword that he delayed to speak came to pass so sore mischances in\nGreater Britain, that all the islands and all the lands fell thereby\ninto much sorrow, albeit thereafter he put them back into gladness by\nthe authority of his good knighthood. Good knight was he of right, for\nhe was of the lineage of Joseph of Abarimacie.  And this Joseph was his\nmother's uncle, that had been a soldier of Pilate's seven years, nor\nasked he of him none other guerdon of his service but only to take down\nthe body of Our Saviour from hanging on the cross.  The boon him seemed\nfull great when it was granted him, and full little to Pilate seemed\nthe guerdon; for right well had Joseph served him, and had he asked to\nhave gold or land thereof, willingly would he have given it to him.\nAnd for this did Pilate make him a gift of the Saviour's body, for he\nsupposed that Joseph should have dragged the same shamefully through\nthe city of Jerusalem when it had been taken down from the cross, and\nshould have left it without the city in some mean place.  But the Good\nSoldier had no mind thereto, but rather honoured the body the most he\nmight, rather laid it along in the Holy Sepulchre and kept safe the\nlance whereof He was smitten in the side and the most Holy Vessel\nwherein they that believed on Him received with awe the blood that ran\ndown from His wounds when He was set upon the rood.  Of this lineage\nwas the Good Knight for whose sake is this High History treated.\nYglais was his mother's name: King Fisherman was his uncle, and the\nKing of the Lower Folk that was named Pelles, and the King that was\nnamed of the Castle Mortal, in whom was there as much bad as there was\ngood in the other twain, and much good was there in them; and these\nthree were his uncles on the side of his mother Yglais, that was a\nright good Lady and a loyal; and the Good Knight had one sister, that\nhight Dindrane. He that was head of the lineage on his father's side\nwas named Nichodemus.  Gais li Gros of the Hermit's Cross was father of\nAlain li Gros.  This Alain had eleven brethren, right good knights,\nlike as he was himself.  And none of them all lived in his knighthood\nbut twelve years, and they all died in arms for their great hardiment\nin setting forward of the Law that was made new.  There were twelve\nbrethren.  Alain li Gros was the eldest; Gorgalians was next; Bruns\nBrandnils was the third; Bertholez li Chauz the fourth; Brandalus of\nWales was the fifth; Elinant of Escavalon was the sixth; Calobrutus was\nthe seventh; Meralis of the Palace Meadow was the eighth; Fortunes of\nthe Red Launde was ninth; Melaarmaus of Abanie was the tenth; Galians\nof the White Tower the eleventh; Alibans of the Waste City was the\ntwelfth. All these died in arms in the service of the Holy Prophet that\nhad renewed the Law by His death, and smote His enemies to the\nuttermost of their power.  Of these two manner of folk, whose names and\nrecords you have heard, Josephus the good clerk telleth us was come the\nGood Knight of whom you shall well hear the name and the manner\npresently.\n\n\nII.\n\nThe authority of the scripture telleth us that after the crucifixion of\nOur Lord, no earthly King set forward the Law of Jesus Christ so much\nas did King Arthur of Britain, both by himself and by the good knights\nthat made repair to his court. Good King Arthur after the crucifixion\nof Our Lord, was such as I tell you, and was a puissant King, and one\nthat well believed in God, and many were the good adventures that befel\nat his court. And he had in his court the Table Round that was\ngarnished of the best knights in the world.  King Arthur after the\ndeath of his father led the highest life and most gracious that ever\nking led, in such sort that all the princes and all the barons took\nensample of him in well-doing.  For ten years was King Arthur in such\nestate as I have told you, nor never was earthly king so praised as he,\nuntil that a slothful will came upon him and he began to lose the\npleasure in doing largesse that he wont to have, nor was he minded to\nhold court neither at Christmas-tide nor at Easter nor at Pentecost.\nThe knights of the Table Round when they saw his well-doing wax slack\ndeparted thence and began to hold aloof from his court, insomuch as\nthat of three hundred and three-score knights and six that he wont to\nhave of his household, there were now not more than a five-and-twenty\nat most, nor did no adventure befal any more at his court.  All the\nother princes had slackened of their well-doing for that they saw King\nArthur maintain so feebly.  Queen Guenievre was so sorrowful thereof\nthat she knew not what counsel to take with herself, nor how she might\nso deal as to amend matters so God amended them not.  From this time\nbeginneth the history.\n\n\nIII.\n\nIt was one Ascension Day that the King was at Cardoil.  He was risen\nfrom meat and went through the hall from one end to the other, and\nlooked and saw the Queen that was seated at a window. The King went to\nsit beside her, and looked at her in the face and saw that the tears\nwere falling from her eyes.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the King, \"What aileth you, and wherefore do you weep?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"And I weep, good right have I; and you yourself have\nlittle right to make joy.\"\n\n\"Certes, Lady, I do not.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"You are right.  I have seen on this high day, or on\nother days that were not less high than this, when you have had such\nthrong of knights at your court that right uneath might any number\nthem.  Now every day are so few therein that much shame have I thereof,\nnor no more do no adventures befal therein. Wherefore great fear have I\nlest God hath put you into forgetfulness.\"\n\n\"Certes, Lady,\" saith the King, \"No will have I to do largesse nor\naught that turneth to honour.  Rather is my desire changed into\nfeebleness of heart.  And by this know I well that I lose my knights\nand the love of my friends.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Queen, \"And were you to go to the chapel of S.\nAugustine, that is in the White Forest, that may not be found save by\nadventure only, methinketh that on your back-repair you would again\nhave your desire of well-doing, for never yet did none discounselled\nask counsel of God but he would give it for love of him so he asked it\nof a good heart.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the King, \"And willingly will I go, forasmuch as that you\nsay have I heard well witnessed in many places where I have been.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"The place is right perilous and the chapel right\nadventurous.  But the most worshipful hermit that is in the Kingdom of\nWales hath his dwelling beside the chapel, nor liveth he now any longer\nfor nought save only the glory of God.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the King, \"It will behove me go thither all armed and\nwithout knights.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"You may well take with you one knight and a squire.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the King, \"That durst not I, for the place is perilous,\nand the more folk one should take thither, the fewer adventures there\nshould he find.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"One squire shall you take by my good will nor shall\nnought betide you thereof save good only, please God!\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the King, \"At your pleasure be it, but much dread I that\nnought shall come of it save evil only.\"\n\nThereupon the King riseth up from beside the Queen, and looketh before\nhim and seeth a youth tall and strong and comely and young, that was\nhight Chaus, and he was the son of Ywain li Aoutres.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he to the Queen, \"This one will I take with me and you\nthink well.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"It pleaseth me well, for I have heard much witness\nto his valour.\"\n\nThe King calleth the squire, and he cometh and kneeleth down before\nhim.  The King maketh him rise and saith unto him, \"Chaus,\" saith he,\n\"You shall lie within to-night, in this hall, and take heed that my\nhorse be saddled at break of day and mine arms ready.  For I would be\nmoving at the time I tell you, and yourself with me without more\ncompany.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the squire, \"At your pleasure.\"\n\nAnd the evening drew on, and the King and Queen go to bed.  When they\nhad eaten in hall, the knights went to their hostels.  The squire\nremained in the hall, but he would not do off his clothes nor his\nshoon, for the night seemed him to be too short, and for that he would\nfain be ready in the morning at the King's commandment.  The squire was\nlying down in such sort as I have told you, and in the first sleep that\nhe slept, seemed him the King had gone without him.  The squire was\nsore scared thereat, and came to his hackney and set the saddle and\nbridle upon him, and did on his spurs and girt on his sword, as it\nseemed him in his sleep, and issued forth of the castle a great pace\nafter the King.  And when he had ridden a long space he entered into a\ngreat forest and looked in the way before him and saw the slot of the\nKing's horse and followed the track a long space, until that he came to\na launde of the forest whereat he thought that the King had alighted.\nThe squire thought that the hoof-marks on the way had come to an end\nand so thought that the King had alighted there or hard by there.  He\nlooketh to the right hand and seeth a chapel in the midst of the\nlaunde, and he seeth about it a great graveyard wherein were many\ncoffins, as it seemed him.  He thought in his heart that he would go\ntowards the chapel, for he supposed that the King would have entered to\npray there.  He went thitherward and alighted.  When the squire was\nalighted, he tied up his hackney and entered into the chapel.  None did\nhe see there in one part nor another, save a knight that lay dead in\nthe midst of the chapel upon a bier, and he was covered of a rich cloth\nof silk, and had around him waxen tapers burning that were fixed in\nfour candlesticks of gold.  This squire marvelled much how this body\nwas left there so lonely, insomuch that none were about him save only\nthe images, and yet more marvelled he of the King that he found him\nnot, for he knew not in what part to seek him.  He taketh out one of\nthe tall tapers, and layeth hand on the golden candlestick, and setteth\nit betwixt his hose and his thigh and issueth forth of the chapel, and\nremounteth on his hackney and goeth his way back and passeth beyond the\ngrave-yard and issueth forth of the launde and entereth into the forest\nand thinketh that he will not cease until he hath found the King.\n\n\nIV.\n\nSo, as he entereth into a grassy lane in the wood, he seeth come before\nhim a man black and foul-favoured, and he was somewhat taller afoot\nthan was himself a-horseback.  And he held a great sharp knife in his\nhand with two edges as it seemed him.  The squire cometh over against\nhim a great pace and saith unto him, \"You, that come there, have you\nmet King Arthur in this forest?\"\n\n\"In no wise,\" saith the messenger, \"But you have I met, whereof am I\nright glad at heart, for you have departed from the chapel as a thief\nand a traitor.  For you are carrying off thence the candlestick of gold\nthat was in honour of the knight that lieth in the chapel dead.\nWherefore I will that you yield it up to me and so will I carry it\nback, otherwise, and you do not this, you do I defy!\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith the squire, \"Never will I yield it you! rather\nwill I carry it off and make a present thereof to King Arthur.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith the other, \"Right dearly shall you pay for it, and\nyou yield it not up forthwith.\"\n\nHowbeit, the squire smiteth with his spurs and thinketh to pass him by,\nbut the other hasteth him, and smiteth the squire in the left side with\nthe knife and thrusteth it into his body up to the haft.  The squire,\nthat lay in the hall at Cardoil, and had dreamed this, awoke and cried\nin a loud voice: \"Holy Mary!  The priest!  Help!  Help, for I am a dead\nman!\"\n\nThe King and the Queen heard the cry, and the chamberlain leapt up and\nsaid to the King: \"sir, you may well be moving, for it is day!\"\n\nThe King made him be clad and shod.  And the squire crieth with such\nstrength as he hath: \"Fetch me the priest, for I die!\"\n\nThe King goeth thither as fast as he may, and the Queen and the\nchamberlain carry great torches and candles.  The King asketh him what\naileth him, and he telleth him all in such wise as he had dreamed it.\n\"Ha,\" saith the King, \"Is it then a dream?\"\n\n\"Yea, sir,\" saith he, \"But a right foul dream it is for me, for right\nfoully hath it come true!\" He lifted his left arm. \"Sir,\" saith he,\n\"Look you there!  Lo, here is the knife that was run into my side up to\nthe haft!\"  After that, he setteth his hand to his hose where the\ncandlestick was.  He draweth it forth and showeth it to the King.\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"For this candlestick that I present to you, am I\nwounded to the death!\"\n\nThe King taketh the candlestick, and looketh thereat in wonderment for\nnone so rich had he never seen tofore.  The King showeth it to the\nQueen.  \"Sir,\" saith the squire, \"Draw not forth the knife of my body\nuntil that I be shriven.\"\n\nThe King sent for one of his own chaplains that made the squire confess\nand do his houselling right well.  The King himself draweth forth the\nknife of the body, and the soul departed forthwith.  The King made do\nhis service right richly and his shrouding and burial.  Ywain li\nAoutres that was father to the squire was right sorrowful of the death\nof his son.  King Arthur, with the good will of Ywain his father, gave\nthe candlestick to S. Paul in London, for the church was newly founded,\nand the King wished that this marvellous adventure should everywhere be\nknown, and that prayer should be made in the church for the soul of the\nsquire that was slain on account of the candlestick.\n\n\nV.\n\nKing Arthur armed himself in the morning, as I told you and began to\ntell, to go to the chapel of S. Augustine.  Said the Queen to him.\n\"Whom will you take with you?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"No company will I have thither, save God only, for\nwell may you understand by this adventure that hath befallen, that God\nwill not allow I should have none with me.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"God be guard of your body, and grant you return\nsafely so as that you may have the will to do well, whereby shall your\npraise be lifted up that is now sore cast down.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"May God remember it.\"\n\nHis destrier was brought to the mounting-stage, and the King mounted\nthereon all armed.  Messire Ywain li Aoutres lent him his shield and\nspear.  When the King had hung the shield at his neck and held the\nspear in his hand, sword-girt, on the tall destrier armed, well seemed\nhe in the make of his body and in his bearing to be a knight of great\npith and hardiment.  He planteth himself so stiffly in the stirrups\nthat he maketh the saddlebows creak again and the destrier stagger\nunder him that was right stout and swift, and he smiteth him of his\nspurs, and the horse maketh answer with a great leap.  The Queen was at\nthe windows of the hall, and as many as five-and-twenty knights were\nall come to the mounting-stage.  When the King departed, \"Lords,\" saith\nthe Queen, \"How seemeth you of the King?  Seemeth he not a goodly man?\"\n\n\"Yea, certes, Lady, and sore loss is it to the world that he followeth\nnot out his good beginning, for no king nor prince is known better\nlearned of all courtesy nor of all largesse than he, so he would do\nlike as he was wont.\"  With that the knights hold their peace, and King\nArthur goeth away a great pace.  And he entereth into a great forest\nadventurous, and rideth the day long until he cometh about evensong\ninto the thick of the forest.  And he espied a little house beside a\nlittle chapel, and it well seemed him to be a hermitage.  King Arthur\nrode thitherward and alighteth before this little house, and entereth\nthereinto and draweth his horse after him, that had much pains to enter\nin at the door, and laid his spear down on the ground and leant his\nshield against the wall, and hath ungirded his sword and unlaced his\nventail.  He looked before him and saw barley and provender, and so led\nhis horse thither and smote off his bridle, and afterwards hath shut\nthe door of the little house and locked it. And it seemed him that\nthere was a strife in the chapel.  The ones were weeping so tenderly\nand sweetly as it were angels, and the other spake so harshly as it\nwere fiends.  The King heard such voices in the chapel and marvelled\nmuch what it might be. He findeth a door in the little house that\nopeneth on a little cloister whereby one goeth to the chapel.  The King\nis gone thither and entereth into the little minster, and looketh\neverywhere but seeth nought there, save the images and the crucifixes.\nAnd he supposeth not that the strife of these voices cometh of them.\nThe voices ceased as soon as he was within.  He marvelleth how it came\nthat this house and hermitage were solitary, and what had become of the\nhermit that dwelt therein. He drew nigh the altar of the chapel and\nbeheld in front thereof a coffin all discovered, and he saw the hermit\nlying therein all clad in his vestments, and seeth the long beard down\nto his girdle, and his hands crossed upon his breast.  There was a\ncross above him, whereof the image came as far as his mouth, and he had\nlife in him yet, but he was nigh his end, being at the point of death.\nThe King was before the coffin a long space, and looked right fainly on\nthe hermit, for well it seemed him that he had been of a good life.\nThe night was fully come, but within was a brightness of light as if a\nscore of candles were lighted.  He had a mind to abide there until that\nthe good man should have passed away.  He would fain have sate him down\nbefore the coffin, when a voice warned him right horribly to begone\nthence, for that it was desired to make a judgment within there, that\nmight not be made so long as he were there.  The King departed, that\nwould willingly have remained there, and so returned back into the\nlittle house, and sate him down on a seat whereon the hermit wont to\nsir.  And he heareth the strife and the noise begin again within the\nchapel, and the ones he heareth speaking high and the others low, and\nhe knoweth well by the voices, that the ones are angels and the others\ndevils.  And he heareth that the devils are distraining on the hermit's\nsoul, and that judgment will presently be given in their favour,\nwhereof make they great joy. King Arthur is grieved in his heart when\nhe heareth that the angels' voices are stilled.  The King is so heavy,\nthat no desire hath he neither to eat nor to drink.  And while he\nsitteth thus, stooping his head toward the ground, full of vexation and\ndiscontent, he heareth in the chapel the voice of a Lady that spake so\nsweet and clear, that no man in this earthly world, were his grief and\nheaviness never so sore, but and he had heard the sweet voice of her\npleading would again have been in joy.  She saith to the devils:\n\"Begone from hence, for no right have ye over the soul of this good\nman, whatsoever he may have done aforetime, for in my Son's service and\nmine own is he taken, and his penance hath he done in this hermitage of\nthe sins that he hath done.\"\n\n\"True, Lady,\" say the devils, \"But longer had he served us than he hath\nserved you and your Son.  For forty years or more hath he been a\nmurderer and robber in this forest, whereas in this hermitage but five\nyears hath he been.  And now you Wish to thieve him from us.\"\n\n\"I do not.  No wish have I to take him from you by theft, for had he\nbeen taken in your service in suchwise as he hath been taken in mine,\nyours would he have been, all quit.\"\n\nThe devils go their way all discomfit and aggrieved; and the sweet\nMother of our Lord God taketh the soul of the hermit, that was departed\nof his body, and so commendeth it to the angels and archangels that\nthey make present thereof to Her dear Son in Paradise.  And the angels\ntake it and begin to sing for joy \"Te Deum laudamus\".  And the Holy\nLady leadeth them and goeth her way along with them.  Josephus maketh\nremembrance of this history and telleth us that this worthy man was\nnamed Calixtus.\n\n\nVI.\n\nKing Arthur was in the little house beside the chapel, and had heard\nthe voice of the sweet Mother of God and the angels.  Great joy had he,\nand was right glad of the good man's soul that was borne thence into\nParadise.  The King had slept right little the night and was all armed.\nHe saw the day break clear and fair, and goeth his way toward the\nchapel to cry God mercy, thinking to find the coffin discovered there\nwhere the hermit lay; but so did he not!  Rather, was it covered of the\nrichest tomb-stone that any might ever see, and had on the top a red\ncross, and seemed it that the chapel was all incensed.  When the King\nhad made his orison therein, he cometh back again and setteth on his\nbridle and saddle and mounteth, and taketh his shield and spear and\ndeparteth from the little house and entereth into the forest and rideth\na great pace, until he cometh at right hour of tierce to one of the\nfairest laundes that ever a man might see.  And he seeth at the\nentrance a spear set bar-wise, and looketh to the right or ever he\nshould enter therein, and seeth a damsel sitting under a great leafy\ntree, and she held the reins of her mule in her hand.  The damsel was\nof great beauty and full seemly clad. The King turneth thitherward and\nso saluteth her and saith: \"Damsel,\" saith he, \"God give you joy and\ngood adventure.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"So may He do to you!\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Is there no hold in this launde?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"No hold is there save a most holy chapel and\na hermit that is beside S. Augustine's chapel.\"\n\n\"Is this then S. Augustine's chapel?\" saith the King.\n\n\"Yea, Sir, I tell it you for true, but the launde and the forest about\nis so perilous that no knight returneth thence but he be dead or\nwounded; but the place of the chapel is of so great worthiness that\nnone goeth thither, be he never so discounselled, but he cometh back\ncounselled, so he may thence return on live. And Lord God be guard of\nyour body, for never yet saw I none aforetime that seemed more like to\nbe good knight, and sore pity would it be and you were not, and never\nmore shall I depart me hence and I shall have seen your end.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Please God, you shall see me repair back\nthence.\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith the damsel, \"Thereof should I be!  right fain, for then\nshould I ask you tidings at leisure of him that I am seeking.\"\n\nThe King goeth to the bar whereby one entereth into the launde, and\nlooketh to the right into a combe of the forest and seeth the chapel of\nS. Augustine and the right fair hermitage.  Thitherward goeth he and\nalighteth, and it seemeth him that the hermit is apparelled to sing the\nmass.  He reineth up his horse to the bough of a tree by the side of\nthe chapel and thinketh to enter thereinto, but, had it been to conquer\nall the kingdoms of the world, thereinto might he not enter, albeit\nthere was none made him denial thereof, for the door was open and none\nsaw he that might forbid him.  Sore ashamed is the King thereof.\nHowbeit, he beholdeth an image of Our Lord that was there within and\ncrieth Him of mercy right sweetly, and looketh toward the altar.  And\nhe looketh at the holy hermit that was robed to sing mass and said his\n\"Confiteor\", and seeth at his right hand the fairest Child that ever he\nhad seen, and He was clad in an alb and had a golden crown on his head\nloaded with precious stones that gave out a full great brightness of\nlight.  On the left hand side, was a Lady so fair that all the beauties\nof the world might not compare them with her beauty.  When the holy\nhermit had said his \"Confiteor\" and went to the altar, the Lady also\ntook her Son and went to sit on the right hand side towards the altar\nupon a right rich chair and set her Son upon her knees and began to\nkiss Him full sweetly and saith:  \"Sir,\" saith she, \"You are my Father\nand my Son and my Lord, and guardian of me and of all the world.\"\n\nKing Arthur heareth the words and seeth the beauty of the Lady and of\nthe Child, and marvelleth much of this that She should call Him her\nFather and her Son.  He looketh at a window behind the altar and seeth\na flame come through at the very instant that mass was begun, clearer\nthan any ray of sun nor moon nor star, and evermore it threw forth a\nbrightness of light such that and all the lights in the world had been\ntogether it would not have been the like.  And it is come down upon the\naltar.  King Arthur seeth it who marvelleth him much thereof.  But sore\nit irketh him of this that he may not enter therewithin, and he\nheareth, there where the holy hermit was singing the mass, right fair\nresponses, and they seem him to be the responses of angels.  And when\nthe Holy Gospel was read, King Arthur looked toward the altar and saw\nthat the Lady took her Child and offered Him into the hands of the holy\nhermit, but of this King Arthur made much marvel, that the holy hermit\nwashed not his hands when he had received the offering.  Right sore did\nKing Arthur marvel him thereof, but little right would he have had to\nmarvel had he known the reason. And when the Child was offered him, he\nset Him upon the altar and thereafter began his sacrament.  And King\nArthur set him on his knees before the chapel and began to pray to God\nand to beat his breast.  And he looked toward the altar after the\npreface, and it seemed him that the holy hermit held between his hands\na man bleeding from His side and in His palms and in His feet, and\ncrowned with thorns, and he seeth Him in His own figure.  And when he\nhad looked on Him so long and knoweth not what is become of Him, the\nKing hath pity of Him in his heart of this that he had seen, and the\ntears of his heart come into his eyes.  And he looketh toward the altar\nand thinketh to see the figure of the man, and seeth that it is changed\ninto the shape of the Child that he had seen tofore.\n\n\nVII.\n\nWhen the mass was sung, the voice of a holy angel said \"Ite, missa\nest\".  The Son took the Mother by the hand, and they evanished forth of\nthe chapel with the greatest company and the fairest that might ever be\nseen.  The flame that was come down through the window went away with\nthis company.  When the hermit had done his service and was divested of\nthe arms of God, he went to King Arthur that was still without the\nchapel.  \"Sir,\" saith he to the King, \"Now may you well enter herein\nand well might you have been joyous in your heart had you deserved so\nmuch as that you might have come in at the beginning of the mass.\"\n\nKing Arthur entered into the chapel without any hindrance. \"Sir,\" saith\nthe hermit to the King, \"I know you well, as did I also King Uther\nPendragon your father.  On account of your sins and your deserts might\nyou not enter here while mass was being sung.  Nor will you to-morrow,\nsave you shall first have made amends of that you have misdone towards\nGod and towards the saint that is worshipped herewithin.  For you are\nthe richest King of the world and the most adventurous, wherefore ought\nall the world to take ensample of you in well-doing and in largesse and\nin honour; whereas you are now an ensample of evil-doing to all rich\nworshipful men that be now in the world.  Wherefore shall right sore\nmishap betide you and you set nor back your doing to the point whereat\nyou began.  For your court was the sovran of all courts and the most\nadventurous, whereas now is it least of worth.  Well may he be sorry\nthat goeth from honour to shame, but never may he have reproach that\nshall do him ill, that cometh from shame to honour, for the honour\nwherein he is found rescueth him to God, but blame may never rescue the\nman that hath renounced honour for shame, for the shame and wickedness\nwherein he is found declare him guilty.\"\n\n\nVIII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith King Arthur, \"To amend me have I come hither, and to be\nbetter counselled than I have been.  Well do I see that the place is\nmost holy, and I beseech you that you pray God that He counsel me and I\nwill do my endeavour herein to amend me.\"\n\n\"God grant you may amend your life,\" saith the holy hermit, \"in such\nsort that you may help to do away the evil Law and to exalt the Law\nthat is made new by the crucifixion of the Holy Prophet. But a great\nsorrow is befallen in the land of late through a young knight that was\nharboured in the hostel of the rich King Fisherman, for that the most\nHoly Graal appeared to him and the Lance whereof the point runneth of\nblood, yet never asked he to whom was served thereof nor whence it\ncame, and for that he asked it not are all the lands commoved to war,\nnor no knight meeteth other in the forest but he runneth upon him and\nslayeth him and he may, and you yourself shall well perceive thereof or\never you shall depart of this launde.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith King Arthur, \"God defend me from the anguish of an evil\ndeath and from wickedness, for hither have I come for none other thing\nbut to amend my life, and this will I do, so God bring me back in\nsafety.\"\n\n\"Truly,\" saith the hermit, \"He that hath been bad for three years out\nof forty, he hath not been wholly good.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the King, \"You speak truth.\"\n\nThe hermit departeth and so commendeth him to God.  The King cometh to\nhis horse and mounteth the speediest that ever he may, and setteth his\nshield on his neck, and taketh his spear in his hand and turneth him\nback a great pace.  Howbeit, he had not gone a bowshot's length when he\nsaw a knight coming disorderly against him, and he sate upon a great\nblack horse and he had a shield of the same and a spear.  And the spear\nwas somewhat thick near the point and burned with a great flame, foul\nand hideous, and the flame came down as far as over the knight's fist.\nHe setteth his spear in rest and thinketh to smite the King, but the\nKing swerveth aside and the other passeth beyond.  \"Sir knight,\nwherefor hate you me?\"\n\n\"Of right ought I not to love you,\" saith the knight.\n\n\"Wherefore?\" saith the King.\n\n\"For this, that you have had my brother's candlestick that was foully\nstolen from him!\"\n\n\"Know you then who I am?\" saith the King.\n\n\"Yea,\" saith the knight; \"You are the King Arthur that aforetime were\ngood and now are evil.  Wherefore I defy you as my mortal enemy.\"\n\nHe draweth him back so that his onset may be the weightier.  The King\nseeth that he may not depart without a stour.  He setteth his spear in\nrest when he seeth the other come towards him with his own spear all\nburning.  The King smiteth his horse with his spurs as hard as he may,\nand meeteth the knight with his spear and the knight him.  And they\nmelled together so stoutly that the spears bent without breaking, and\nboth twain are shifted in their saddles and lose their stirrups.  They\nhurtle so strongly either against other of their bodies and their\nhorses that their eyes sparkle as of stars in their heads and the blood\nrayeth out of King Arthur by mouth and nose.  Either draweth away from\nother and they take their breath.  The King looketh at the Black\nKnight's spear that burneth, and marvelleth him right sore that it is\nnot snapped in flinders of the great buffet he had received thereof,\nand him thinketh rather that it is a devil and a fiend. The Black\nKnight is not minded to let King Arthur go so soon, but rather cometh\ntoward him a great career.  The King seeth him come toward him and so\ncovereth him of his shield for fear of the flame.  The King receiveth\nhim on the point of his spear and smiteth him with so sore a shock that\nhe maketh him bend backward over his horse croup.  The other, that was\nof great might, leapeth back into the saddle-bows and smiteth the King\nupon the boss of his shield so that the burning point pierceth the\nshield and the sleeve of his habergeon and runneth the sharp iron into\nhis arm.  The King feeleth the wound and the heat, whereof is he filled\nwith great wrath, and the knight draweth back his spear to him, and\nhath great joy at heart when he feeleth the King wounded.  The King was\nrejoiced not a whit, and looked at the spear that was quenched thereof\nand burned no longer.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"I cry you mercy.  Never would my spear have\nbeen quenched of its burning, save it were bathed in your blood.\"\n\n\"Now may never God help me,\" saith King Arthur, \"whenever I shall have\nmercy on you, and I may achieve!\"\n\nHe pricketh towards him a great run, and smiteth him in the broad of\nthe breast and thrusted his spear half an ell into his body, and\nbeareth him to the ground, both him and his horse all in a heap, and\ndraweth his spear back to him and looketh at the knight that lay as\ndead and leaveth him in the launde, and draweth him towards the issue\nincontinent.  And so as the King went, he heard a great clashing of\nknights coming right amidst the forest, so as it seemed there were a\ngood score or more of them, and he seeth them enter the launde from the\nforest, armed and well horsed. And they come with great ado toward the\nknight that lay dead in the midst of the launde.  King Arthur was about\nto issue forth, when the damsel that he had left under the tree cometh\nforward to meet him.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"For God's sake, return back and fetch me the head of\nthe knight that lieth there dead.\"\n\nThe King looketh back, and seeth the great peril and the multitude of\nknights that are there all armed. \"Ha, damsel,\" saith he, \"You are\nminded to slay me.\"\n\n\"Certes, Sir, that I am not, but sore need will there be that I should\nhave it, nor never did knight refuse to do the thing I asked nor deny\nme any boon I demanded of him.  Now God grant you be not the most\nchurlish.\"\n\n\"Ha, damsel, I am right sore wounded in the arm whereon I hold my\nshield.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I know it well, nor never may you be heal thereof\nsave you bring me the head of the knight.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" he saith, \"I will essay it whatsoever may befal me thereof.\"\n\n\nIX.\n\nKing Arthur looketh amidst the launde and seeth that they that have\ncome thither have cut the knight to pieces limb by limb, and that each\nis carrying off a foot or a thigh or an arm or a hand and are\ndispersing them through the forest.  And he seeth that the last knight\nbeareth on the point of his spear the head.  The King goeth after him a\ngreat gallop and crieth out to him: \"Ha, Sir knight, abide and speak to\nme!\"\n\n\"What is your pleasure?\" saith the knight.\n\n\"Fair Sir,\" saith the King, \"I beseech you of all loves that you deign\nto give me the head of this knight that you are carrying on the point\nof your lance.\"\n\n\"I will give it you,\" saith the knight, \"on condition.\"\n\n\"What condition?\" saith the King.\n\n\"That you tell me who slew the knight whose head I carry that you ask\nof me.\"\n\n\"May I not otherwise have it?\" saith the King.\n\n\"In no wise,\" saith he.\n\n\"Then will I tell you,\" saith the King.  \"Know of a very truth that\nKing Arthur slew him.\"\n\n\"And where is he?\" saith the knight.\n\n\"Seek him until you shall have found him,\" saith King Arthur, \"For I\nhave told you the truth thereof.  Give me the head.\"\n\n\"Willingly,\" saith the knight.  He lowereth his spear and the King\ntaketh the head.  The knight had a horn at his neck.  He setteth it to\nhis mouth and soundeth a blast right loud.  The knights that were set\nwithin the forest hear the horn and return back a great gallop, and\nKing Arthur goeth his way toward the oak-tree at the issue of the\nlaunde where the damsel is awaiting him.  And the knights come\npresently to him that had given the head to the King and ask him\nwherefore he hath sounded the horn.\n\n\"For this,\" saith he, \"That this knight that is going away yonder hath\ntold me that King Arthur slew the Black Knight, and I was minded you\nshould know it that we may follow him.\"\n\n\"We will not follow him,\" say the knights, \"For it is King Arthur\nhimself that is carrying off the head, and no power have we to do evil\nto him nor other sith that he hath passed the bar.  But you shall aby\nit that let him go when he was so nigh you!\"\n\nThey rush in upon him and slay him and cut him up, and each one\ncarrieth off his piece the same as they had done with the other. King\nArthur is issued forth of the bar, and cometh to the maiden that is\nwaiting for him and presenteth her the head.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"Gramercy.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"With a good will!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"You may well alight, for nought have you to\nfear on this side the bar.\"  With that, the King alighteth.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Do off your habergeon heedfully and I will bind up\nthe wound in your arm, for of none may you be made whole save of me\nonly.\"\n\nThe King doeth off his habergeon, and the damsel taketh of the blood of\nthe knight's head that still ran all warm, and therewith washeth King\nArthur his wound, and thereafter maketh him do on his habergeon again.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Never would you have been whole save by the blood of\nthis Black Knight.  And for this carried they off the body piecemeal\nand the head, for that they well knew you were wounded; and of the head\nshall I have right sore need, for thereby shall a castle be yielded up\nto me that was reft from me by treason, so I may find the knight that I\ngo seek, through whom it ought to be yielded up to me.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"And who is the knight?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"He was the son of Alain li Gros of the Valleys of\nCamelot, and is named Perlesvax.\"\n\n\"Wherefore Perlesvax?\" saith the King.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"When he was born, his father was asked how he should\nbe named in right baptism, and he said that he would he should have the\nname Perlesvax, for the Lord of the Moors had reft him of the greater\npart of the Valleys of Camelot, and therefore he would that his son\nshould by this name be reminded thereof, and God should so multiply him\nas that he should be knight.  The lad was right comely and right gentle\nand began to go by the forests and launch his javelins, Welsh-fashion,\nat hart and hind.  His father and his mother loved him much, and one\nday they were come forth of their hold, whereunto the forest was close\nanigh, to enjoy them.  Now, there was between the hold and the forest,\nan exceeding small chapel that stood upon four columns of marble; and\nit was roofed of timber and had a little altar within, and before the\naltar a right fair coffin, and thereupon was the figure of a man\ngraven.  Sir,\" saith the damsel to the King, \"The lad asked his father\nand mother what man lay within the coffin.  The father answered: 'Fair\nson,' saith he, 'Certes, I know not to tell you, for the tomb hath been\nhere or ever that my father's father was born, and never have I heard\ntell of none that might know who it is therein, save only that the\nletters that are on the coffin say that when the Best Knight in the\nworld shall come hither the coffin will open and the joinings all fall\nasunder, and then will it be seen who it is that lieth therein.'\"\n\n\nX.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Have many knights passed thereby sithence\nthat the coffin was set there?\"\n\n\"Yea, sir, so many that neither I nor none other may tell the number.\nYet natheless hath not the coffin removed itself for none.  When the\nlad heareth his father and mother talking thus, he asketh what a knight\nmay be?  'Fair son,' saith his mother, 'Of right ought you well to know\nby your lineage.'  She telleth the lad that he had eleven uncles on his\nfather's side that had all been slain in arms, and not one of them\nlived knight but twelve years.  Sir,\" saith she to the King, \"The lad\nmade answer that this was nor that he had asked, but how knights were\nmade? And the father answered that they were such as had more valour\nthan any other in the world.  After that he said, 'Fair son, they are\nclad in habergeons of iron to protect their bodies, and helms laced\nupon their heads, and shields and spears and swords girded wherewithal\nto defend their bodies.'\"\n\n\nXI.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel to the King, \"When that the father had thus\nspoken to the lad, they returned together to the castle. When the\nmorrow morning came, the lad arose and heard the birds sing and\nbethought him that he would go for disport into the forest for the day\nsith that it was fair.  So he mounted on one of his father's horses of\nthe chase and carried his javelins Welshman-fashion and went into the\nforest and found a stag and followed him a good four leagues Welsh,\nuntil that he came into a launde and found two knights all armed that\nwere there doing battle, and the one had a red shield and the other a\nwhite.  He left of tracking the stag to look on at the melly and saw\nthat the Red Knight was conquering the White.   He launched one of his\njavelins at the Red Knight so hard that he pierced his habergeon and\nmade it pass through the heart.  The knight fell dead.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"The knight of the white shield made great joy\nthereof, and the lad asked him, 'were knights so easy to slay?\nMethought,' saith the lad, 'that none might never pierce nor damage a\nknight's armour, otherwise would I not have run him through with my\njavelin,' saith the lad.  Sir, the lad brought the destrier home to his\nfather and mother, and right grieved were they when they heard the\ntidings of the knight he had slain.  And right were they, for thereof\ndid sore trouble come to them thereafter.  Sir, the squire departed\nfrom the house of his father and mother and came to the court of King\nArthur. Right gladly did the King make him knight when he knew his\nwill, and afterward he departed from the land and went to seek\nadventure in every kingdom.  Now is he the Best Knight that is in the\nworld.  So go I to seek him, and full great joy shall I have at heart\nand I may find him.  Sir, and you should meet him by any adventure in\nany of these forests, he beareth a red shield with a white hart.  And\nso tell him that his father is dead, and that his mother will lose all\nher land so he come not to succour her; and that the brother of the\nknight of the Red shield that he slew in the forest with his javelin\nwarreth upon her with the Lord of the Moors.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"And God grant me to meet him, right fain\nshall I be thereof, and right well will I set forth your message.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Now that I have told you him that I seek, it is your\nturn to tell me your name.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Willingly.  They that know me call me\nArthur.\"\n\n\"Arthur?  Have you indeed such name?\"\n\n\"Yea, damsel,\" saith he.\n\n\"So help me God,\" saith she, \"Now am I sorrier for you than tofore, for\nyou have the name of the worst King in the world, and I would that he\nwere here in such sort as you are now.  But never again will he move\nfrom Cardoil, do what he may, such dread hath the Queen lest any should\ntake him from her, according as I have heard witness, for never saw I\nneither the one nor the other.  I was moved to go to his court, but I\nhave met full a score knights one after other, of whom I asked\nconcerning him, and one told me the same tale as another, for each told\nme that the court of King Arthur is the vilest in the world, and that\nall the knights of the Table Round have renounced it for the badness\nthereof.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Hereof may he well be sorry, but at the\nbeginning I have heard say he did right well.\"\n\n\"And who careth,\" saith the damsel, \"for his good beginning when the\nend is bad?  And much it misliketh me that so seemly knight and so\nworshipful man as are you should have the name of so evil a king.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"A man is not good by his name, but by his\nheart.\"\n\n\"You say true,\" saith the damsel, \"But for the King's name have I\ndespite of yours.  And whitherward are you going?\"\n\n\"I shall go to Cardoil, where I shall find King Arthur when I shall\ncome thither.\"\n\n\"Go to, then, and bestir!\" saith she.\n\n\"One bad man with another!  No better hope have I of you, sith that you\ngo thither!\"\n\n\"Damsel, you may say your pleasure, for thither I go!  God be with you!\"\n\n\"And may never God guide you,\" saith she, \"and you go the court of King\nArthur!\"\n\n\nXII.\n\nWith that the King mounted again and departed, and left the damsel\nunder the tree and entered into the deep forest and rode with much ado\nas fast as he might to come to Cardoil.  And he had ridden a good ten\nleagues Welsh when he heard a Voice in the thick of the forest that\nbegan to cry aloud: \"King Arthur of Great Britain, right glad at heart\nmayst thou be of this that God hath sent me hither unto thee.  And so\nHe biddeth thee that thou hold court at the earliest thou mayst, for\nthe world, that is now made worse of thee and of thy slackness in\nwell-doing, shall thereof be greatly amended!\"\n\nWith that the Voice is silent, and the King was right joyous in his\nheart of that he had heard.  The story speaketh no more here of other\nadventure that befel King Arthur in his returning nor on his arriving.\nAnyway, he hath ridden so long that he is come back to Cardoil.  The\nQueen and the knights made great feast of him and great joy.  The King\nwas alighted on the mounting-stage and went up into the hall and made\nhim be disarmed.  And he showed the Queen the wound that he had on his\narm, that had been right great and painful, but it was healing full\nfairly.  The King goeth into the chamber and the Queen with him, and\ndoeth the King be apparelled in a robe of cloth of silk all furred of\nermine, with coat, surcoat and mantle.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Queen, \"Sore pain and travail have you had.\"\n\n\"Lady, in such wise behoveth worshipful man to suffer in order that he\nmay have honour, for hardly shall none without travail come to honour.\"\nHe recounteth to the Queen all the adventures that have befallen him\nsithence that he was departed, and in what manner he was wounded in the\narm, and of the damsel that had so blamed him of his name.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the queen, \"Now may you well know how meet it is that a\nman high and rich and puissant should have great shame of himself when\nhe becometh evil.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the King, \"So much did the damsel do me well to wot, but\ngreatly did a Voice recomfort me that I heard in the forest, for it\ntold me that God bade me hold court presently, and that I shall see\nthere the fairest adventure befal that ever I may see.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Right joyous ought you to be that your Saviour hath\nhad you in remembrance.  Now, therefore, fulfil His commandment.\"\n\n\"Certes, Lady, so will I do.  For never had none better desire of\nwell-doing than have I as at this time, nor of honour nor of largesse.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"God be praised thereof.\"\n\n\n\nBRANCH II.\n\nNow beginneth here the second branch of the Holy Graal the name of the\nFather, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.\n\n\nTITLE I\n\nKing Arthur was at Cardoil with the Queen and right few knights. By\nGod's pleasure, the wish and the will had come back to him to win\nhonour and to do largesse as most he might.  He made seal his letters\nand sent them throughout all his lands and all the islands, and gave\nnotice to the barons and knights that he would hold court at\nPannenoisance, that is situate the sea of Wales, at the feast of S.\nJohn after Whitsuntide.  And he was minded to put it off until that\nday, for that suntide was already too nigh, and they that should be\nthereat might not all come by the earlier day.  The tidings went\nthrough all lands, so that knights come in great plenty thereunto, for\nwell-doing had so waxed feeble in all the kingdoms, that every one had\navoided King Arthur as one that should do nought more for ever.\nWherefore all began now to marvel whence his new desire had come.  The\nknights of the Table Round that were scattered through the lands and\nthe forests, by God's will learnt the tidings and right great joy had\nthey thereof, and came back to the court with great ado.  But neither\nMessire Gawain nor Lancelot came thither on that day.  But all the\nother came that were then on live.  S. John's day came, and the knights\nwere come from all parts, marvelling much that the King had not held\nthe court at Whitsuntide, but they knew not the occasion thereof.  The\nday was fair and clear and the air fresh, and the hall was wide and\nhigh and garnished of good knights in great plenty.  The cloths were\nspread on the tables whereof were great plenty in the hall.  The King\nand the Queen had washen and went to sit at the head of one table and\nthe other knights sate them down, whereof were full five score and five\nas the story telleth.  Kay the Seneschal and Messire Ywain the son of\nKing Urien served that day at the tables at meat, and five-and-twenty\nknights beside.  And Lucan the Butler served the golden cup before the\nKing.  The sun shone through the windows everywhere amidst the hall\nthat was strown of flowers and rushes and sweet herbs and gave out a\nsmell like as had it been sprinkled of balm. And straightway after the\nfirst meat had been served, and while they were yet awaiting the\nsecond, behold you three damsels where they enter into the hall!  She\nthat came first sate upon a mule white as driven snow and had a golden\nbridle and a saddle with a bow of ivory banded with precious stones and\na saddle-cloth of a red samite dropped of gold.  The damsel that was\nseated on the mule was right seemly of body but scarce so fair of face,\nand she was robed in a rich cloth of silk and gold and had a right rich\nhat that covered all her head.  And it was all loaded of costly stones\nthat flamed like fire.  And great need had she that her head were\ncovered, for she was all bald without hair, and carried on her neck her\nright arm slung in a stole of cloth of gold.  And her arm lay on a\npillow, the richest that ever might be seen, and it was all charged of\nlittle golden bells, and in this hand held she the head of a King\nsealed in silver and crowned with gold. The other damsel that came\nbehind rode after the fashion of a squire, and carried a pack trussed\nbehind her with a brachet thereupon, and at her neck she bore a shield\nbanded argent and azure with a red cross, and the boss was of gold all\nset with precious stones.  The third damsel came afoot with her kirtle\ntucked up like a running footman; and she had in her hand a whip\nwherewith she drove the two steeds.  Each of these twain was fairer\nthan the first, but the one afoot surpassed both the others in beauty.\nThe first cometh before the King, there where he sitteth at meat with\nthe Queen.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"The Saviour of the world grant you honour and joy\nand good adventure and my Lady the Queen and all them of this hall for\nlove of you!  Hold it not churlishness and I alight not, for there\nwhere knights be may I not alight, nor ought I until such time as the\nGraal be achieved.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Gladly would I have it so.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"That know I well, and may it not mislike you to hear\nthe errand whereon I am come.\"\n\n\"It shall not mislike me,\" saith the King, \"say your pleasure!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"The shield that this damsel beareth belonged to\nJoseph, the good soldier knight that took down Our Lord of hanging on\nthe rood.  I make you a present thereof in such wise as I shall tell\nyou, to wit, that you keep the shield for a knight that shall come\nhither for the same, and you shall make hang it on this column in the\nmidst of your hall, and guard it in such wise as that none may take it\nand hang at his neck save he only.  And of this shield shall he achieve\nthe Graal, and another shield shall he leave here in the hall, red,\nwith a white hart; and the brachet that the damsel carrieth shall here\nremain, and little joy will the brachet make until the knight shall\ncome.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"The shield and the brachet will we keep full\nsafely, and right heartily we thank you that you have deigned to bring\nthem hither.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"I have not yet told you all that I have in\ncharge to deliver.  The best King that liveth on earth and the most\nloyal and the most righteous, sendeth you greeting; of whom is sore\nsorrow for that he hath fallen into a grievous languishment.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Sore pity is it and it be so as you say; and\nI pray you tell me who is the King?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"It is rich King Fisherman, of whom is great grief.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"You say true; and God grant him his heart's\ndesire!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Know you wherefore he hath fallen into languishment?\"\n\n\"Nay, I know not at all, but gladly would I learn.\"\n\n\"And I will tell you,\" saith she.  \"This languishment is come upon him\nthrough one that harboured in his hostel, to whom the most Holy Graal\nappeared.  And, for that he would not ask unto whom one served thereof,\nwere all the lands commoved to war thereby, nor never thereafter might\nknight meet other but he should fight with him in arms without none\nother occasion.  You yourself may well perceive the same, for your\nwell-doing hath greatly slackened, whereof have you had much blame, and\nall the other barons that by you have taken ensample, for you are the\nmirror of the world alike in well-doing and in evil-doing.  Sir, I\nmyself have good right to plain me of the knight, and I will show you\nwherefore.\"\n\nShe lifteth the rich hat from her head and showeth the King and Queen\nand the knights in the hall her head all bald without hair.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"My head was right seemly garnished of hair plaited\nin rich tresses of gold at such time as the knight came to the hostel\nof the rich King Fisherman, but I became bald for that he made not the\ndemand, nor never again shall I have my hair until such time as a\nknight shall go thither that shall ask the question better than did he,\nor the knight that shall achieve the Graal.  Sir, even yet have you not\nseen the sore mischief that hath befallen thereof.  There is without\nthis hall a car that three white harts have drawn hither, and lightly\nmay you send to see how rich it is. I tell you that the traces are of\nsilk and the axletrees of gold, and the timber of the car is ebony.\nThe car is covered above with a black samite, and below is a cross of\ngold the whole length, and under the coverlid of the car are the heads\nof an hundred and fifty knights whereof some be sealed in gold, other\nsome in silver and the third in lead.  King Fisherman sendeth you word\nthat this loss I hath befallen of him that demanded not unto whom one\nserveth of the Graal.  Sir, the damsel that beareth the shield holdeth\nin her hand the head of a Queen that is sealed in lead and crowned with\ncopper, and I tell you that by the Queen whose head you here behold was\nthe King betrayed whose head I bear, and the three manner of knights\nwhose heads are within the car.  Sir, send without to see the\ncostliness and fashion of the car.\"\n\nThe King sent Kay the Seneschal to see.  He looked straitly thereat\nwithin and without and thereafter returned to the King. \"Sir,\" saith\nhe, \"Never beheld I car so rich, and there be three harts withal that\ndraw the car, the tallest and fattest one might ever see.  But and you\nwill be guided by me, you will take the foremost, for he is scarce so\nfar, and so might you bid make right good collops thereof.\"\n\n\"Avoid there, Kay!\" saith the King.  \"Foul churlishness have you\nspoken!  I would not such a deed were done for another such kingdom as\nis this of Logres!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"He that hath been wont to do churlishness\ndoth right grudgingly withdraw himself therefrom. Messire Kay may say\nwhatsoever him pleaseth, but well know I that you will pay no heed to\nhis talk.  Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"Command that the shield be hung on\nthis column and that the brachet be put in the Queen's chamber with the\nmaidens.  We will go on our way, for here have we been long enough.\"\n\nMessire Ywain laid hold on the shield and took it off the damsel's neck\nby leave of the King, and hung it on the column in the midst of the\nhall, and one of the Queen's maidens taketh the brachet and carrieth\nhim to the Queen's chamber.  And the damsel taketh her leave and\nturneth again, and the King commendeth her to God.  When the King eaten\nin hall, the Queen with the King and the knights go to lean at the\nwindows to look at the three damsels and the three white harts that\ndraw the car, and the more part said that the damsel afoot that went\nafter the two that were mounted should have the most misease.  The bald\ndamsel went before, and set not her hat on her head until such time as\nbehoved her enter into the forest; and the knights that were at the\nwindows might see them no longer.  Then set she her hat again upon her\nhead.  The King, the Queen, and the knights when they might see them no\nmore, came down from the windows, and certain of them said that never\nuntil this time had they seen bald-headed damsel save this one only.\n\n\nII.\n\nHereupon the story is silent of King Arthur, and turneth again to speak\nof the three damsels and the car that was drawn by the three white\nharts.  They are entered into the forest and ride on right busily.\nWhen they had left the castle some seven leagues Welsh behind them,\nthey saw a knight coming toward them on the way they had to go.  The\nknight sat on a tall horse, lean and bony.  His habergeon was all rusty\nand his shield pierced in more than a dozen places, and the colour\nthereon was so fretted away that none might make out the cognizance\nthereof.  And a right thick spear bore he in his hand.  When he came\nanigh the damsel, he saluted her right nobly.\n\n\"Fair welcome, damsel, to you and your company.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"God grant you joy and good adventure!\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the knight, \"Whence come you?\"\n\n\"Sir, from a court high-plenary that King Arthur holdeth at\nPannenoisance.  Go you thither, sir knight,\" saith the damsel, \"to see\nthe King and the Queen and the knights that are there?\"\n\n\"Nay, not so!\" saith he.  \"Many a time have I seen them, but right glad\nam I of King Arthur that he hath again taken up his well-doing, for\nmany a time hath he been accustomed thereof.\"\n\n\"Whitherward have you now emprised your way?\" saith the damsel.\n\n\"To the land of King Fisherman, and God allow me.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Tell me your name and bide awhile beside me.\"\n\nThe knight draweth bridle and the damsels and the car come to a stay.\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"Well behoveth me tell you my name. Messire Gawain\nam I called, King Arthur's nephew.\"\n\n\"What?  are you Messire Gawain?  my heart well told me as much.\"\n\n\"Yea, damsel,\" saith he, \"Gawain am I.\"\n\n\"God be praised thereof, for so good knight as are you may well go see\nthe rich King Fisherman.  Now am I fain to pray you of the valour that\nis in you and the courtesy, that you return with me and convoy me\nbeyond a certain castle that is in this forest whereof is some small\nperil.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Willingly, at your pleasure.\"\n\nHe returneth with the damsel through the midst of the forest that was\ntall and leafy and little haunted of folk.  The damsel relateth to him\nthe adventure of the heads that she carried and that were in the car,\nlike as she did at the court of King Arthur, and of the shield and the\nbrachet she had left there, but much it misliked Messire Gawain of the\ndamsel that was afoot behind them.  \"Damsel,\"  saith Messire Gawain,\n\"Wherefore doth not this damsel that goeth afoot mount upon the car?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"This shall she not, for behoveth her go not\notherwise than afoot.  But and you be so good knight as men say,\nbetimes will she have done her penance.\"\n\n\"How so?\" saith Gawain.\n\n\"I will tell you,\" saith she.  \"And it shall so be that God bring you\nto the hostel of rich King Fisherman, and the most Holy Graal appear\nbefore you and you demand unto whom is served thereof, then will she\nhave done her penance, and I, that am bald, shall receive again my\nhair.  And so you also make not demand thereof, then will it behove us\nsuffer sore annoy until such time as the Good knight shall come and\nshall have achieved the Graal.  For on account of him that first was\nthere and made not the demand, are all the lands in sorrow and warfare,\nand the good King Fisherman is yet in languishment.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"God grant me courage and will herein\nthat I may come to do this thing according to your wish, whereof may I\nwin worship both of God and of the world.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nMessire Gawain and the damsels go on their way a great pace through the\nhigh forest, green and leafy, where the birds are singing, and enter\ninto the most hideous forest and most horrible that any might ever see,\nand seemed it that no greenery never there had been, so bare and dry\nwere all the branches and all the trees black and burnt as it had been\nby fire, and the ground all parched and black atop with no green, and\nfull of great cracks.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Right loathly is this forest and right\nhideous.  Goeth it on far like this?\"\n\n\"Sir.\" saith she, \"For nine leagues Welsh goeth it on the same, but we\nshall pass not through the whole thereof.\"\n\nMessire Gawain looketh from time to time on the damsel that cometh\narbor, and sore it irketh him that he may not amend her estate.  They\nride on until that they come to a great valley and Messire Gawain\nlooketh along the bottom and seeth appear a black castle that was\nenclosed within a girdle of wall, foul and evilseeming.  The nigher he\ndraweth to the castle the more hideous it seemeth him, and he seeth\ngreat halls appear that were right foully mis-shapen, and the forest\nabout it he seeth to be like as he had found it behind.  He seeth a\nwater come down from the head of a mountain, foul and horrible and\nblack, that went amidst the castle roaring so loud that it seemed to be\nthunder. Messire Gawain seeth the entrance of the gateway foul and\nhorrible like as it had been hell, and within the castle heard he great\noutcries and lamentations, and the most part heard he saying: \"Ha, God!\nWhat hath become of the Good Knight, and when will he come?\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"What is this castle here that is so\nfoul and hideous, wherein is such dolour suffered and such weary\nlonging for the coming of the Good Knight?\"\n\n\"Sir, this is the castle of the Black Hermit.  Wherefore am I fain to\npray you that you meddle not herein for nought that they within may do\nto me, for otherwise it may well be that your death is at hand, for\nagainst them will you have no might nor power.\"\n\nThey come anigh the castle as it were a couple of bow-shots, and\nbehold, through the gateway come knights armed on black horses and\ntheir arms all black and their shields and spears, and there were a\nhundred and fifty and two, right parlous to behold.  And they come a\ngreat gallop toward the damsel, and toward the car, and take the\nhundred and fifty-two heads, each one his own, and set them upon their\nspears and so enter into the castle again with great joy.  Messire\nGawain seeth the insolence that the knights have wrought, and right\ngreat shame hath he of himself that he hath not moved withal.\n\n\"Messire Gawain,\" saith the damsel, \"Now may you know how little would\nyour force have availed you herein.\"\n\n\"Damsel, an evil castle is this where folk are robbed on such wise.\"\n\n\"Sir, never may this mischief be amended, nor this outrage be done\naway, nor the evil-doer therein be stricken down, nor they that cry and\nlament within the prison there be set free until such time as the Good\nKnight shall come for whom are they yearning as you have heard but now.\"\n\n\"Damsel, right glad may the knight be that by his valour and his\nhardiment shall destroy so many evil folk!\"\n\n\"Sir, therefore is he the Best Knight in the world, and he is yet young\nenough of age, but right sorrowful am I at heart that I know not true\ntidings of him; for better will have I to see him than any man on live.\"\n\n\"Damsel, so also have I,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"For then by your leave\nwould I turn me again.\"\n\n\"Not so, sir, but and you shall come beyond the castle, then will I\nteach you the way whereby you ought to go.\"\n\n\nIV.\n\nWith that they go toward the castle all together.  Just as they were\nabout to pass beyond the castle wall, behold you where a knight cometh\nforth of a privy postern of the castle, and he was sitting upon a tall\nhorse, his spear in his fist, and at his neck had he a red shield\nwhereon was figured a golden eagle. \"Sir knight,\" saith he to Messire\nGawain, \"I pray you bide.\"\n\n\"What is your pleasure?\"\n\n\"You must needs joust with me,\" saith he \"and conquer this shield, or\notherwise I shall conquer you.  And full precious is the shield,\ninsomuch as that great pains ought you to take to have it and conquer\nit, for it belonged to the best knight of his faith that was ever, and\nthe most puissant and the wisest.\"\n\n\"Who, then, was he?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Judas Machabee was he, and he it was that first wrought how by one\nbird to take another.\"\n\n\"You say true,\" saith Messire Gawain; \"A good knight was he.\"\n\n\"Therefore right joyful may you be,\" saith he, \"and you may conquer the\nsame, for your own is the poorest and most battered that ever saw I\nborne by knight.  For hardly may a man know the colour thereof.\"\n\n\"Thereby may you well see,\" saith the damsel to the knight, \"that his\nown shield hath not been idle, nor hath the horse whereon he sitteth\nbeen stabled so well as yours.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the knight, \"No need is here of long pleading. Needs\nmust he joust with me, for him do I defy.\"\n\nSaith Messire Gawain, \"I hear well that you say.\"\n\nHe draweth him back and taketh his career and the knight likewise, and\nthey come together as fast as their horses may carry them, spear in\nrest.  The knight smiteth Messire Gawain on the shield whereof he had\nno great defence, and passeth beyond, and in the by-pass the knight\nto-brake his spear; and Messire Gawain smiteth him with his spear in\nthe midst of his breast and beareth him to the ground over the croup of\nhis horse, all pinned upon his spear, whereof he had a good full hand's\nbreadth in his breast.  He draweth his spear back to him, and when the\nknight felt himself unpinned, he leaped to his feet and came straight\nto his horse and would fain set his foot in the stirrup when the damsel\nof the car crieth out: \"Messire Gawain, hinder the knight! for and he\nwere mounted again, too sore travail would it be to conquer him!\"\n\nWhen the knight heard name Messire Gawain, he draweth him back: \"How?\"\nsaith he; \"Is this then the good Gawain, King Arthur's nephew?\"\n\n\"Yea,\" saith the damsel, \"He it is without fail!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight to Messire Gawain, \"Are you he?\"\n\n\"Yea,\" saith he, \"Gawain I am!\"\n\n\"Sir, so please you,\" saith he, \"I hold me conquered, and right sorry\nam I that I knew you not or ever I had ado with you.\"\n\nHe taketh the shield from his neck and holdeth it to him.  \"Sir,\" saith\nhe, \"Take the shield that belonged to the best knight that was in his\ntime of his faith, for none know I of whom it shall be better employed\nthan of you.  And of this shield were vanquished all they that be in\nprison in this castle.\"  Messire Gawain taketh the shield that was\nright fair and rich.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"Now give me yours, for you will not bear two\nshields.\"\n\n\"You say true,\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\nHe taketh the guige from his neck and would have given him the shield,\nwhen the damsel afoot: \"Hold, sir knight, you that are named Messire\nGawain!  What would you do?  And he bear your shield into the castle\nthere, they of the castle will hold you recreant and conquered, and\nwill come forth thence and carry you into the castle by force, and\nthere will you be cast into his grievous prison; for no shield is borne\nthereinto save of a vanquished knight only.\"\n\n\"Sir knight,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"No good you wish me, according to\nthat this damsel saith.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"I cry you mercy, and a second time I hold me\nconquered, and right glad should I have been might I have borne your\nshield within yonder, and right great worship should I have had\nthereof, for never yet hath entered there the shield of knight so good.\nAnd now ought I to be right well pleased of your coming, sith that you\nhave set me free of the sorest trouble that ever knight had.\"\n\n\"What is the trouble?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"I will tell you.  Heretofore many a time hath there\nbeen a passing by of knights both of hardy and of coward, and it was my\nbusiness to contend and joust with them and do battle, and I made them\npresent of the shield as did I you.  The more part found I hardy and\nwell able to defend themselves, that wounded me in many places, but\nnever was knight so felled me to the ground nor dealt me so sore a\nbuffet as have you.  And sith that you are carrying away the shield and\nI am conquered, never here-after shall knight that passeth before this\ncastle have no dread of me nor of no knight that is herein.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Now am I gladder of my conquest\nthan I was before.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"By your leave will I go my way, for, and I\nmay hide not my shame in the castle, needs must I show it openly\nabroad.\"\n\n\"God grant you do well!\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Messire Gawain,\" saith the Damsel of the Car, \"give me your shield\nthat the knight would fain have carried off.\"\n\n\"Willingly, damsel,\" saith he.  The damsel that went afoot taketh the\nshield and setteth it in the car.  Howbeit, the knight that was\nconquered mounted again upon his horse, and entered again into the\ncastle, and when he was come thereinto, arose a noise and great outcry\nso loud that all the forest and all the valley began to resound\nthereof.  \"Messire Gawain,\" saith the Damsel of the Car, \"the knight is\nshamed and there cast in prison another time.  Now haste, Messire\nGawain!  for now may you go!\"\n\nWith that they all set forward again upon their way together, and leave\nthe castle an English league behind.  \"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain,\n\"When it shall please you, I shall have your leave to go.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"God be guard of your body, and right great thanks of\nyour convoy.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"My service is always ready at your command.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"Gramercy, and your own way see you there by\nyonder great cross at the entrance of yonder forest. And beyond that,\nwill you find the fairest forest and most delightsome when you shall\nhave passed through this that sore is wearisome.\"\n\nMessire Gawain turneth him to go, and the damsel afoot crieth out to\nhim: \"Sir, not so heedful are you as I supposed.\"\n\nMessire Gawain turneth his horse's head as he that was startled:\n\"Wherefore say you so, damsel?\" saith he.\n\n\"For this,\" saith she, \"That you have never asked of my Damsel\nwherefore she carrieth her arm slung at her neck in this golden stole,\nnor what may be the rich pillow whereon the arm lieth. And no greater\nheed will you take at the court of the rich King Fisherman.\"\n\n\"Sweet, my friend,\" saith the Damsel of the Car, \"blame not Messire\nGawain only, but King Arthur before him and all the knights that were\nin the court.  For not one of them all that were there was so heedful\nas to ask me.  Go your ways, Messire Gawain, for in vain would you now\ndemand it, for I will tell you not, nor shall you never know it save\nonly by the most coward knight in the world, that is mine own knight\nand goeth to seek me and knoweth not where to find me.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"I durst not press you further.\"\n\nWith that the Damsel departeth, and Messire Gawain setteth him forward\nagain on the way that she had taught him.\n\n\n\nBRANCH III.\n\nINCIPIT.\n\nHere beginneth another branch of the Graal in the name of the Father,\nand in the name of the Son, and in the name of the Holy Ghost.\n\n\nTITLE I\n\nHere is the story silent of the three damsels and the Car and saith\nthat Messire Gawain hath passed throughout the evil forest and is\nentered into the forest passing fair, the broad, the high, the\nplenteous of venison.  And he rideth a great pace, but sore abashed is\nhe of that the damsel had said to him, and misdoubteth him but he shall\nhave blame thereof in many places.  He rode hard the day long till that\nit was evensong and the sun was about to set.  And he looketh before\nhim and seeth the house of a hermit and the chapel in the thick of the\nforest; and a spring flowed forth in front of the chapel right clear\nand fresh, and above it was a tree full broad and tall that threw a\nshadow over the spring.  A damsel sate under the tree and held a mule\nby the reins and at the saddle-bow had she the head of a knight\nhanging. And Messire Gawain cometh thitherward and alighteth.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"God give you good adventure!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"And you always.\"\n\nWhen she was risen up over against him, \"Damsel,\" saith he, \"For whom\nare you a-waiting here?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I am waiting for the hermit of this holy chapel,\nthat is gone into the forest, and I would fain ask him tidings of a\nknight.\"\n\n\"Think you he will tell you them and he knoweth any?\"\n\n\"Yea, sir, I think so, according to that I have been told.\"\n\nTherewithal behold you the hermit that was coming, and saluteth the\ndamsel and Messire Gawain and openeth the door of the house and setteth\nthe two steeds within and striketh off the bridles and giveth them\ngreen-meat first and barley after, and fain would he have taken off the\nsaddles when Messire Gawain leapeth before: \"Sir,\" saith he, \"Do not\nso!  This business is not for you!\"\n\n\"Hermit though I be,\" saith he, \"yet well know I how to deal withal,\nfor at the court of King Uther Pendragon have I been squire and knight\ntwo-score years, and a score or mort have I been in this hermitage.\"\n\nAnd Messire Gawain looketh at him in wonderment. \"Sir,\" saith he,\n\"Meseemeth you are not of more than forty years.\"\n\n\"That know I well of a truth,\" saith the hermit, and Messire Gawain\ntaketh off the saddles and bethinketh him more of the damsel's mule\nthan of his own horse.  And the hermit taketh Messire Gawain by the\nhand and the damsel and leadeth them into the chapel.  And the place\nwas right fair.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit to Messire Gawain, \"You will disarm you not,\"\nsaith he, \"for this forest is passing adventurous, and no worshipful\nman behoveth be disgarnished.\"\n\nHe goeth for his spear and for his shield and setteth them within the\nchapel.  He setteth before them such meat as he hath, and when they\nhave eaten giveth them to drink of the spring.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"Of a knight that I go seek am I come to ask\nyou tidings.\"\n\n\"Who is the knight?\" saith the hermit.\n\n\"Sir, he is the Chaste Knight of most holy lineage.  He hath a heart of\ngold, the look of a lion, the navel of a virgin maid, a heart of steel,\nthe body of an elephant, and without wickedness are all his conditions.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the hermit, \"Nought will I tell you concerning him, for\nI know not of a certainty where he is, save this, that he hath lain in\nthis chapel twice, not once only, within this twelvemonth.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Will you tell me no more of him, nor none other\nwitting?\"\n\n\"In no wise,\" saith the hermit.\n\n\"And you, Messire Gawain?\" saith she.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"As fainly would I see him as you, but none find I\nthat may tell me tidings of him.\"\n\n\"And the damsel of the Car, Sir, have you seen her?\"\n\n\"Yea, lady,\" saith he, \"It is but just now sithence that I left her.\"\n\n\"Carried she still her arm slung at her neck?\"\n\n\"Yea,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"in such wise she carried it.\"\n\n\"Of a long while,\" saith the damsel, \"hath she borne it thus.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"how are you named?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Gawain am I called, King Arthur's nephew.\"\n\n\"Thereof I love you the better,\" saith the hermit.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"You are of kindred to the worst King that is.\"\n\n\"Of what King speak you?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"I speak,\" saith she, \"of King Arthur, through whom is all the world\nmade worser, for he began doing well and now hath become evil.  For\nhatred of him hate I a knight that found me nigh S. Augustine's Chapel,\nand yet was he the comeliest knight that saw I ever.  He slew a knight\nwithin the bar right hardily.  I asked him for the head of the knight\nand he went back for the same and set himself in sore peril.  He\nbrought it me, and I made him great joy, but when he told me his name\nwas Arthur I had no fainness of the bounty he had done me, for that he\nhad the name of that evil King.\"\n\n\nII.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"You may say your pleasure.  I tell you\nthat King Arthur hath held the richest court that he hath held ever,\nand these evil conditions whereof you blame him is he minded to put\naway for evermore, and more will he do of good and more of largesse\nthan was ever known aforetime so long as he shall live; nor know I none\nother knight that beareth his name.\"\n\n\"You are right,\" saith the damsel, \"to come to his rescue, for that he\nis your uncle, but your rescue will scarce avail him and he deliver not\nhimself.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit to Messire Gawain, \"The damsel will say her\npleasure.  May God defend King Arthur, for his father made me knight.\nNow am I priest, and in this hermitage ever sithence that I came hither\nhave I served King Fisherman by the will of Our Lord and His\ncommandment, and all they that serve him do well partake of his reward,\nfor the place of his most holy service is a refuge so sweet that unto\nhim that hath been there a year, it seemeth to have been but a month\nfor the holiness of the place and of himself, and for the sweetness of\nhis castle wherein have I oftentimes done service in the chapel where\nthe Holy Graal appeareth.  Therefore is it that I and all that serve\nhim are so youthful of seeming.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"By what way may a man go to his castle?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"None may teach you the way, save the will of\nGod lead you therein.  And would you fain go thither?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"It is the most wish that I have.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"Now God give you grace and courage to ask the\nquestion that the others to whom the Graal hath appeared would ask not,\nwhereof have many mischances sithence befallen much people.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nWith that, they left of talking, and the hermit led Messire Gawain into\nhis house to rest, and the damsel abode still in the chapel.  On the\nmorrow when dawn appeared, Messire Gawain that had lain all armed,\narose and found his saddle ready and the damsel, and the bridles set\non, and cometh to the chapel and findeth the hermit that was apparelled\nto sing mass, and seeth the damsel kneeling before an image of Our\nLady, and she prayed God and the sweet Lady that they would counsel her\nthat whereof she had need, and wept right tenderly so that the tears\nran down her face.  And when she had prayed of a long space she\nariseth, and Messire Gawain biddeth her God give her good day, and she\nreturneth his salute.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"Meseemeth you are not over joyous.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I have right, for now am I nigh unto my desolation,\nsith that I may not find the Good Knight.  Now must I needs go to the\ncastle of the Black Hermit, and bear thither the head that hangeth at\nmy saddle-bow, for otherwise shall I not be able to pass through the\nforest but my body should there be cast in prison or shamed, and this\nshall be the quittance for my passing.  Then will I seek the Damsel of\nthe Car and so shall I go in safer through the forest.\"\n\nWith that the hermit had begun the mass and Messire Gawain and the\ndamsel heard it.  When mass was sung, Messire Gawain took leave of the\nhermit and the damsel also.  And Messire Gawain goeth one way and the\ndamsel the other, and either biddeth other to God.\n\n\nIV.\n\nHereupon the story is now silent of the damsel, and saith that Messire\nGawain goeth through the high forest and rideth a great pace, and\nprayeth God right sweetly that He will set him in such way as that\nthereby he may go to the land of the rich King Fisherman.  And he\nrideth until the hour of noon, and cometh into the fulness of the\nforest and seeth under a tree a squire alighted of a horse of the\nchase.  Messire Gawain saluteth him, and the squire saith: \"Sir, right\nwelcome may you be!\"\n\n\"Fair sweet friend,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Whither go you?\"\n\n\"Sir, I go to seek the lord of this forest.\"\n\n\"Whose is the forest?\" saith Messire Gawain. \"Sir, it belongeth to the\nbest knight in the world.\"\n\n\"Can you tell me tidings of him?\"\n\n\"He ought to bear a shield banded azure and argent with a red cross\nthereon and a boss of gold.  I say that he is good knight, but little\ncall have I to praise him, for he slew my father in this forest with a\njavelin.  The Good Knight was squire what time he slew him, and fain\nwould I avenge my father upon him and I may find him, for he reft me of\nthe best knight that was in the realm of Logres when he slew my father.\nWell did he bereave me of him what time he slew him with his javelin\nwithout defiance, nor shall I never be at ease nor at rest until I\nshall have avenged him.\"\n\n\"Fair sweet friend,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Sith that he is knight so\ngood take heed you increase not your wrong of your own act, and I would\nfain that you had found him, so as that no evil had befallen him\nthereof.\"\n\n\nV.\n\n\"So would not I,\" saith the squire, \"for never shall I see him in this\nplace but I shall run upon him as my mortal enemy!\"\n\n\"Fair sweet friend,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"you may say your pleasure,\nbut tell me is there no hold in this forest wherein I may harbour me\nthe night?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the squire, \"No hold know I within twenty league of your\nway in any quarter.  Wherefore no leisure have you to tarry, for it is\nhigh noon already.\"\n\nSo Messire Gawain saluteth the squire and goeth a great pace as he that\nknoweth neither highway nor byway save only as adventure may lead him.\nAnd the forest pleaseth him well for that it is so fair and that he\nseeth the deer pass by before him in great herds.  He rode on until it\ndrew toward evensong at a corner of the forest.  The evening was fair\nand calm and the sun was about to set.  And a score league Welsh had he\nridden sithence that he parted from the squire, and sore he misdoubted\nhim that he should find no hold.  He found the fairest meadow-land in\nthe world, and looked before him when he had ridden a couple of\nbow-shot lengths and saw a castle appear nigh the forest on a mountain.\nAnd it was enclosed of high walls with battlements, and within were\nfair halls whereof the windows showed in the outer walls, and in the\nmidst was an ancient tower that was compassed round of great waters and\nbroad meadow-lands.  Thitherward Messire Gawain draweth him and looketh\ntoward the gateway of the castle and seeth a squire issue forth a great\npace upon a hackney, and he came the way that Messire Gawain was\ncoming.  And when the squire seeth him, and hath drawn somewhat anigh,\nhe saluteth him right nobly.\n\n\nVI.\n\n\"Sir, right welcome may you be!\"\n\n\"Good adventure may you have!\" saith Messire Gawain.  \"Fair sweet\nfriend, what is this castle here, sir?\"\n\n\"Sir, it is the castle of the Widow Lady.\"\n\n\"What is the name thereof;\"\n\n\"Camelot; and it belonged to Alain li Gros, that was a right loyal\nknight and worshipful man.  He is dead this long time, and my Lady hath\nremained without succour and without counsel. Wherefore is the castle\nwarred upon of them that would fain reave her thereof by force.  The\nLord of the Moors and another knight are they that war upon her and\nwould fain reave her of this castle as they have reft her of seven\nother already.  Greatly desireth she the return of her son, for no\ncounsel hath she save only of her one daughter and of five old knights\nthat help her to guard the castle.  Sir,\" saith he, \"The door is made\nfast and the bridge drawn up, for they guard the castle closely, but,\nso please you, you will tell me your name and I will go before and make\nthe bridge be lowered and the gate unfastened, and will say that you\nwill lodge within to-night.\"\n\n\"Gramercy,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"right well shall my name be known or\never I depart from the castle.\"\n\nThe squire goeth his way a great pace, and Messire Gawain tided softly\nat a walk for he had yet a long way to go.  And he found a chapel that\nstood between the forest and the castle, and it was builded upon four\ncolumns of marble and within was a right fair sepulchre.  The chapel\nhad no fence of any kind about it so that he seeth the coffin within\nfull clearly, and Messire Gawain bideth awhile to look thereon.  And\nthe squire entered into the castle and hath made the bridge be lowered\nand the door opened. He alighteth and is come into the hall when was\nthe Widow Lady and her daughter.  Saith the Lady to the squire:\n\"Wherefore have you returned from doing my message?  Lady, for the\ncomeliest knight that I have seen ever, and fain would he harbour\nwithin to-night, and he is garnished of all arms and rideth without\ncompany.\"\n\n\"And what name hath he?\" saith the Lady.\n\n\"Lady, he told me you should know it well or ever he depart from this\ncastle.\"\n\nTherewithal the Lady gan weep for joy and her daughter also, and,\nlifting her hands towards heaven, \"Fair Lord God!\" saith the Widow\nLady, \"And this be indeed my son, never before have I had joy that\nmight be likened to this!  Now shall I not be disherited of mine\nhonour, neither shall I lose my castle whereof they would fain reave me\nby wrong, for that no Lord nor champion have I!\"\n\n\nVII.\n\nThereupon the Widow Lady ariseth up and her daughter likewise, and they\ngo over the bridge of the castle and see Messire Gawain that was yet\nlooking on the coffin within the chapel.\n\n\"Now haste!\" saith the Lady; \"At the tomb shall we be well able to see\nwhether it be he!\"\n\nThey go to the chapel right speedily, and Messire Gawain seeth them\ncoming and alighteth. \"Lady,\" saith he, \"Welcome may you be, you and\nyour company.\"\n\nThe Lady answereth never a word until that they are come to the tomb.\nWhen she findeth it not open she falleth down in a swoon. And Messire\nGawain is sore afraid when he seeth it.  The Lady cometh back out of\nher swoon and breaketh out into great lamentation.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel to Messire Gawain, \"Welcome may you be! But now\nsithence my mother supposed that you had been her son and made great\njoy thereof, and now seeth she plainly that you are not he, whereof is\nshe sore sorrowful, for so soon as he shall return, this coffin\nbehoveth open, nor until that hour shall none know who it is that lieth\ntherein.\"\n\nThe Lady riseth up and taketh Messire Gawain by the hand. \"Sir,\" saith\nshe, \"What is your name?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"I am called Gawain, King Arthur's nephew.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"You shall be he that is welcome both for the sake of\nmy son and for your own sake.\"\n\nThe Lady biddeth a squire lead his horse into the castle and carry his\nshield and spear.  Then they enter into the castle and lead Messire\nGawain into the hall, and make disarm him.  After that, they fetch him\nwater to wash his hands and his face, for he was distained of the rust\nof his habergeon.  The Lady maketh apparel him in a rich robe of silk\nand gold, and furred of ermine.  The Widow Lady cometh forth of her\nchamber and maketh Messire Gawain sit beside her.  \"Sir,\" saith she,\n\"Can you tell me any tidings of my son that I have not seen of this\nlong time past, and of whom at this present am I sore in need?\"\n\n\nVIII.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"No tidings of him know I to tell you, and right\nheavy am I thereof, for he is the knight of the world that fainest I\nwould see and he be your son as I am told.  What name hath he?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"His name in right baptism is Perceval, and a right\ncomely squire was he when he departed hence.  Now as at this time is it\nsaid that he is the comeliest knight on live and the most hardy and the\ncleanest of all wickedness.  And sore need have I of his hardiment, for\nwhat time that he departed hence he left me in the midst of a great\nwarfare on behalf of the Knight of the Red Shield that he slew.  Within\nthe se'nnight thereafter he went away, nor never once have I seen him\nsithence, albeit a full seven year hath passed already.  And now the\nbrother of the knight that he slew and the Lord of the Moors are\nwarring upon me and are fain to reave me of my castle and God counsel\nme not. For my brothers are too far away from me, and King Pelles of\nthe Lower Folk hath renounced his land for God's sake and entered into\na hermitage.  But the King of Castle Mortal hath in him as much of\nwickedness and felony as these twain have in them of good, and enough\nthereof have they.  But neither succour nor help may they give me, for\nthe King of Castle Mortal challengeth my Lord King Fisherman both of\nthe most Holy Graal and of the Lance whereof the point bleedeth every\nday, albeit God forbid he should ever have them.\"\n\n\nIX.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"There was at the hostel of King\nFisherman a knight before whom the Holy Graal appeared three times, yet\nnever once would he ask whereof it served nor whom it honoured.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Widow Lady's daughter, \"You say true, and the Best\nKnight is he of the world.  This say I for love of my brother, and I\nlove all knights for the love of him, but by the foolish wit of the\nknight hath mine uncle King Fisherman fallen into languishment.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Lady, \"Behoveth all good knights go see the rich King\nFisherman.  Will you not therefore go?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Yea, that will I, so speedily as I may,\nfor not elsewhither have I emprised my way.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Then are you going to see my son, wherefore tell my\nson, and you see him, of mine evil plight and my misease, and King\nFisherman my brother.  But take heed, Messire Gawain, that you be\nbetter mindful than was the knight.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"I shall do as God shall teach me.\"\n\nIn the meanwhile as they were speaking thus together, behold you\ntherewithal the Widow Lady's five knights that were come in from the\nforest and make bring harts and hinds and wild swine.  So they alighted\nand made great joy of Messire Gawain when they knew who he was.\n\n\nX.\n\nWhen the meat was ready they sate to eat, and full plenteously were\nthey provided and right well were they served.  Thereupon, behold,\ncometh the squire that had opened the door for Messire Gawain, and\nkneeleth before the Widow Lady.\n\n\"And what tidings?\" saith she.\n\n\"Lady, there is to be a right great assembly of tourney in the valleys\nthat aforetime were ours.  Already have they spread the Welsh booths,\nand thither are come these two that are warring upon you and great\nstore other knights.  And they have ordained that he which shall do\nbest at the assembly shall undertake the garrison of this castle in\nsuch sort as that he shall hold it for his own alone against all other.\"\n\nThe Widow Lady beginneth to weep: \"Sir,\" saith she to Messire Gawain,\n\"Now may you understand that the castle is not mine own, sith that\nthese knights say it is theirs as you hear.\"\n\n\"Certes, Lady,\" saith he, \"Herein do they great dishonour and a sin.\"\n\n\nXI.\n\nWhen the table was removed the damsel fell at Messire Gawain's feet,\nweeping.  He raiseth her forthwith and saith to her, \"Damsel, herein do\nyou ill.\"\n\n\"For God's sake, Sir, take pity on my Lady mother and me!\"\n\n\"Certes, damsel, great pity have I of you.\"\n\n\"Sir, now shall it be seen in this strait whether you be good knight,\nfor good is the knighthood that doeth well for God's sake.\"\n\nThe Widow Lady and her daughter go into the chamber, and Messire\nGawain's bed was made in the midst of the hall.  So he went and lay\ndown as did also the five knights.  All the night was Messire Gawain in\nmuch thought.  The morrow, when he was risen, he went to hear mass in a\nchapel that was within and ate thereafter three sops in wine and then\narmed him, and at the same time asked the five knights that were there\nin the hall whether they would go see the assembly.\n\n\"Yea, Sir,\" say they, \"and you be going thither.\"\n\n\"In faith, thither verily will I go!\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\nThe knights are armed forthwith, and their horses brought and Messire\nGawain's, and he goeth to take leave of the Widow Lady and her\ndaughter.  But great joy make they of this that they have heard say\nthat he will go with their knights to the assembly.\n\n\nXII.\n\nMessire Gawain and the five knights mounted and issued forth of the\ncastle and rode a great gallop before a forest.  Messire Gawain looketh\nbefore him about the foreclose of the forest, and seeth the fairest\npurlieus that he had seen ever, and so broad they be that he may not\nsee nor know the fourth part thereof. They are garnished of tall\nforests on one hand and on the other, and there are high rocks in the\nmidst with wild deer among.\n\n\"Sir,\" say the knights, \"Lo, these be the Valleys of Camelot whereof my\nLady and her daughter have been bereft, and bereft also hath she been\nof the richest castles that be in Wales to the number of seven.\"\n\n\"A wrong is it and a sin!\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\nSo far have they ridden that they see the ensigns and the shields there\nwhere the assembly is to be held, and they see already mounted the more\npart of the knights all armed and running their horses down the\nmeadow-land.  And they see the tents stretched on the one hand and on\nanother.  And Messire Gawain bideth, and the five knights under a tree,\nand see the knights assembling on one hand and on another.  One of the\nfive knights that were with him gave him witting of the Lord of the\nMoors and the brother of the knight of the Red Shield that had to name\nChaos the Red.  So soon as the tournament was assembled, Messire Gawain\nand the knights come to the assembly, and Messire Gawain goeth to a\nWelsh knight and beareth him to the ground, both him and his horse, all\nin a heap.  And the five come after at a great gallop and each\noverthroweth his own, and greatly pride they themselves of Messire\nGawain.  Chaos the Red seeth Messire Gawain but knoweth him not.  He\ngoeth toward him a full career, and Messire Gawain receiveth him on the\npoint of his spear and hurtleth against him so sore that he all\nto-brast his collarbone and maketh the spear fly from his fist.  And\nMessire Gawain searcheth the fellowships of one part and the other, and\nfindeth not nor encountereth no knight before him in his way but he\nputteth him off his horse or woundeth him, either by himself or by one\nof the five knights, that make right great joy of that they see him do.\nThey show him the Lord of the Moors that was coming with a full great\nfellowship of folk.  He goeth thitherward a great gallop.  They mell\ntogether either upon other of their spears that they bent and all\nto-brast in flinders, and hurtle together so stoutly both of their\nhorses and their bodies that the Lord of the Moors loseth his stirrups\nand hath the hinder saddlebow to-frushed, and falleth down to the\nground over his horse croup in such sort that the peak of his helm\ndinteth a full palm's breadth into the turf. And Messire Gawain taketh\nthe horse that was right rich and good, maugre all of his fellowship,\nand giveth it to one of the five knights that maketh it be led to\nCamelot of a squire.  Messire Gawain searcheth the ranks on the one\nhand and on the other, and doeth such feats of arms as never no knight\nmight do the same again.  The five knights also showed great hardiment,\nand did more of arms that day than ever had they done tofore, for not\none of them but had overthrown at least a single knight and won his\nhorse.  The Lord of the Moors was mounted again on another rich horse\nand had great shame for that Messire Gawain had overthrown him.  He\nespieth Messire Gawain and goeth toward him a great gallop and thinketh\nto avenge his shame.  They come together either on other with a great\nshock, and Messire Gawain smiteth him with the truncheon of his spear\nthat he had still left, in the midst of his breast, so that it was all\nto-splintered.  The Lord of the Moors likewise again to-brast his spear\nupon him. Messire Gawain draweth his sword and flingeth the truncheon\nto the ground.  The Lord of the Moors doth likewise and commandeth his\nfolk not to mell betwixt them twain, for never yet had he found no\nknight that he had not conquered.  They deal them great buffets on the\nhelms, either upon other, in such sort that the sparks fly thereout and\ntheir swords are blunted.  The buffets of Messire Gawain are heavier\nthan the other's, for he dealeth them so mighty and horrible that the\nblood rayeth out from the Lord of the Moors by the mouth and the nose\nso that his habergeon is all bloody thereof and he may no more endure.\nThereupon he yieldeth him prisoner to Messire Gawain, that is right\nglad thereof and his five knights likewise.  The Lord of the Moors\ngoeth to his tent to alight, and Messire Gawain with him and alighteth.\nAnd Messire Gawain taketh the horse and saith to one of the knights,\n\"Keep this for me.\"\n\nAnd all the knights are repaired to their tents, and with one accord\nsay they all that the knight of the Red Shield with the eagle of gold\nthereon hath done better than we, and they ask the Lord of the Moors\nwhether he accordeth with them, and he saith \"Aye.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he to Messire Gawain, \"You, then, are the warden of this\ncastle of Camelot.\"\n\n\"Gramercy, lord!\" saith Messire Gawain.  He calleth the five knights\nand saith unto them: \"Lords, my will is that you be there on my behalf\nand that you shall safeguard the same by consent of the knights that\nare here present.\"\n\n\"Sir, right gladly do we agree thereto.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain to the Lord of the Moors, \"I give you\nmoreover as my prisoner to the Widow Lady that harboured me last night.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"This have you no right to do.  Assembly of tourney is\nnot war.  Hence have you no right to imprison my body in castle, for\nwell am I able to pay my ransom here.  But tell me, what is your name?\"\n\n\"I am called Gawain.\"\n\n\"Ha, Messire Gawain, many a time have I heard tell of you albeit never\ntofore have I seen you.  But sith that the castle of Camelot is in your\nkeeping, I promise you loyally that before a year and a day neither the\ncastle nor none of the Lady's land need fear nought from me nor from\nany other so far forth as I may hinder him, and hereto do I pledge me\nin the presence of all these knights that are here.  And, so you would\nhave of me gold or silver, thereof will I give you at your will.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Gramercy!  I consent freely to as much as\nyou have said.\"\n\nMessire Gawain taketh leave and turneth him again toward the castle of\nCamelot, and sendeth by a squire the horse of the Lord of the Moors to\nthe daughter of the Widow Lady, that made great joy thereof.  And the\nfive knights drive before them the horses they have taken booty.\nWhereof great also was the joy.  No need to wonder whether Messire\nGawain were well harboured that night at the castle.  He recounted to\nthe Lady how the castle was in the keeping of these knights.  When it\ncame to morning-tide, Messire Gawain took leave and departed from the\ncastle, but not before he had heard mass, for such was his custom.  The\nWidow Lady and her daughter commend him to God, and the castle\nremaineth in better keeping than he had found it.\n\n\n\nBRANCH IV.\n\n\nINCIPIT.\n\nHere beginneth another branch of the Graal in the name of the Father,\nand of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.\n\n\nTITLE I.\n\nAnd the story is silent here of the mother of the Good Knight, and\nsaith that Messire Gawain goeth so as God and adventure lead him toward\nthe land of the rich King Fisherman.  And he entereth into a great\nforest, all armed, his shield at his neck and his spear in his hand.\nAnd he prayeth Our Lord that He counsel him of this holy errand he hath\nemprised so as that he may honourably achieve it.  He rode until that\nhe came at evensong to a hold that was in the midst of the forest.  And\nit was compassed about of a great water, and had about it great clumps\nof trees so as that scarce with much pains might he espy the hall, that\nwas right large.  The river that compassed it about was water royal,\nfor it lost not its right name nor its body as far as the sea. And\nMessire Gawain bethought him that it was the hold of a worshipful man,\nand draweth him thitherward to lodge.  And as he drew anigh the bridge\nof the hold, he looketh and seeth a dwarf sitting on a high bench.  He\nleapeth up: \"Messire Gawain,\" saith he, \"Welcome may you be!\"\n\n\"Fair, sweet friend,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"God give you good\nadventure!  You know me, then?\" saith he.\n\n\"Well do I know you,\" saith the dwarf, \"For I saw you at the\ntournament.  At a better moment could you not have come hither, for my\nlord is not here.  But you will find my lady, the fairest and most\ngentle and most courteous in the realm of Logres, and as yet is she not\nof twenty years.\"\n\n\"Fair friend,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"What name hath the lord of the\nhold?\"\n\n\"Sir, he is called of Little Gomeret.  I will go tell my lady that\nMessire Gawain is come, the good knight, and bid her make great joy.\"\n\nHowbeit, Messire Gawain marvelleth much that the dwarf should make him\nsuch cheer, for many knaveries hath he found in many places within the\nbodies of many dwarfs.  The dwarf is come into the chamber where the\nlady was.\n\n\"Now, haste, Lady!\" saith he, \"Make great joy, for Messire Gawain is\ncome to harbour with you.\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith she, \"Of this am I right glad and right sorry; glad,\nfor that the good knight will lie here to-night, sorry, for that he is\nthe knight that my lord most hateth in the world. Wherefore he warneth\nme against him for love of him, for oftentimes hath he told me that\nnever did Messire Gawain keep faith with dame nor damsel but he would\nhave his will of them.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the dwarf, \"It is not true albeit it is so said.\"\n\n\nII.\n\nThereupon Messire Gawain entereth into the courtyard and alighteth, and\nthe lady cometh to meet him and saith to him: \"May you be come to joy\nand good adventure.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"May you also have honour and good adventure.\"\n\nThe lady taketh him by the hand and leadeth him into the hall and\nmaketh him be seated on a cushion of straw.  And a squire leadeth his\nhorse to stable.  And the dwarf summoneth two other squires and doeth\nMessire Gawain be disarmed, and helpeth them right busily, and maketh\nfetch water to wash his hands and his face.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the dwarf, \"Your fists are still all swollen of the\nbuffets you gave and received at the tournament.\"\n\nMessire Gawain answered him nought.  And the dwarf entereth into the\nchamber and bringeth a scarlet robe furred of ermine and maketh it be\ndone on Messire Gawain.  And meat was made ready and the table set, and\nthe lady sate to eat.  Many a time looked he upon the lady by reason of\nher great beauty, and, had he been minded to trust to his heart and his\neyes, he would have all to-changed his purpose; but so straitly was his\nheart bound up, and so quenched the desires thereof, that nought would\nhe allow himself to think upon that might turn to wickedness, for the\nsake of the high pilgrimage he had emprised.  Rather 'gan he withdraw\nhis eyes from looking at the lady, that was held to be of passing great\nbeauty.  After meat Messire Gawain's bed was made, and he apparelled\nhimself to lie down.  The lady bade him God give him good adventure,\nand he made answer the like.  When the lady was in her chamber, the\ndwarf said to Messire Gawain: \"Sir, I will lie before you, so as to\nkeep you company until you be asleep.\"\n\n\"Gramercy,\" saith he, \"And God allow me at some time to reward you of\nthe service.\"\n\nThe dwarf laid himself down on a mattress before Messire Gawain, and\nwhen he saw that he slept, he ariseth as quickly as he may, and cometh\nto a boat that was on the river that ran behind the hall, and entereth\nthereinto and roweth up-stream of the river. And he cometh to a\nfishery, where was a right fair hall on a little eyot enclosed by a\nmarshy arm of the river.  The jealous knight was come thither for\ndisport, and lay in the midst of the hall upon a couch.  The dwarf\ncometh forth of his boat thereinto, and lighteth a great candle in his\nfist and cometh before the couch.  \"What ho, there!\" saith the dwarf,\n\"Are you sleeping?\"\n\nAnd the other waketh up sore startled, and asketh what is the matter\nand wherefore is he come?\n\n\"In God's name,\" saith he, \"You sleep not so much at your ease as doth\nMessire Gawain!\"\n\n\"How know you that?\" saith he.\n\n\"Well know I,\" saith the dwarf, \"For I left him but now in your hall,\nand methinketh he and your lady are abed together arm to arm.\"\n\n\"How?\" saith he, \"I forbade her she should ever harbour Messire Gawain.\"\n\n\"In faith,\" said the dwarf, \"She hath made him greater cheer than ever\nsaw I her make to none other!  But haste you and come, for great fear\nhave I lest he carry her away!\"\n\n\"By my head!\" saith the knight; \"I will go not, howsoever it be! But\nshe shall pay for it, even though she go!\"\n\n\"Then of wrong will it be!\" saith the dwarf, \"as methinketh!\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nMessire Gawain lay in the hall that was ware of nought of this. He\nseeth that day hath broken fair and clear, and ariseth up. The lady\ncometh to the door of the hall and seeth not the dwarf, whereby well\nshe understandeth his treachery.  She saith to Messire Gawain, \"Sir,\nfor God's sake have pity upon me, for the dwarf hath betrayed me!  And\nyou withdraw yourself forth of our forest and help not to rescue me\nfrom the smart that my lord will make me suffer, great sin will you\nhave thereof.  For well know you, that of right ought I not to be held\nguilty toward my lord nor toward any other, for aught that you have\ndone toward me or I toward you.\"\n\n\"You say true,\" saith Messire Gawain.  Thereupon is he armed, and\ntaketh leave of the lady and issueth forth of the fair hold and setteth\nhim in an ambush in the forest nigh thereby.  Straightway behold the\njealous knight where he cometh, he and his dwarf.  He entereth into the\nhall.  The lady cometh to meet him.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Welcome may you be!\"\n\n\"And you,\" saith he, \"Shame and evil adventure may you have, as the\nmost disloyal dame on live, for that this night have you harboured in\nmy hostel and in my bed him that most have I warned you against!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"In your hostel did I harbour him, but never hath\nyour bed been shamed by me, nor never shall be!\"\n\n\"You lie!\" saith he, \"like a false woman!\"\n\nHe armeth himself all incontinent and maketh his horse be armed, then\nmaketh the lady go down and despoil her to her shirt, that crieth him\nmercy right sweetly and weepeth.  He mounteth his horse and taketh his\nshield and his spear, and maketh the lady be taken of the dwarf by her\ntresses and maketh her be led before him into the forest.  And he\nbideth above a pool where was a spring, and maketh her enter into the\nwater that flowed forth full cold, and gathereth saplings in the forest\nfor rods and beginneth to smite and beat her across upon her back and\nher breast in such sort that the stream from the spring was all bloody\ntherewithal.  And she began to cry out right loud, until at last\nMessire Gawain heareth her and draweth forth of the ambush wherein he\nwas, and cometh thitherward a great gallop.\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith the dwarf, \"Look you here where Messire Gawain\ncometh!\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith the knight, \"Now know I well that nought is there\nhere but treachery, and that the matter is well proven!\"\n\nBy this time, Messire Gawain is come, and saith: \"Avoid, Sir knight!\nWherefore slay you the best lady and most loyal that ever have I seen?\nNever tofore have I found lady that hath done me so much honour, and\nthis ought you to be well pleased to know, for neither in her bearing,\nnor in her speech, nor in herself found I nought save all goodness\nonly.  Wherefore I pray you of franchise and of love that you forbear\nyour wrath and that you set her forth of the water.  And so will I\nswear on all the sacred hallows in this chapel that never did I beseech\nher of evil nor wantonness nor never had I no desire thereof.\"\n\nThe knight was full of great wrath when he saw that Messire Gawain had\nnot gone his way thence, and an anguish of jealousy burneth him heart\nand body and overburdeneth him of folly and outrage, and Messire Gawain\nthat is still before him moveth him to yet further transgression.\nNatheless, for the fear that he hath of him he speaketh to him:\n\"Messire Gawain,\" saith he, \"I will set her forth thence on one\ncondition, that you joust at me and I at you, and, so you conquer me,\nquit shall she be of misdoing and of blame, but and if I shall conquer\nyou, she shall be held guilty herein.  Such shall be the judgment in\nthis matter.\"\n\n\"I ask no better,\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\nIV.\n\nThereupon, the knight biddeth the dwarf make set the lady forth of the\npool of the spring and make her sit in a launde whereas they were to\njoust.  The knight draweth him back the better to take his career, and\nMessire Gawain cometh as fast as his horse may carry him toward Marin\nthe Jealous.  And when Marin seeth him coming, he avoideth his buffet\nand lowereth his spear and cometh to his wife that was right sore\ndistraught, and wept as she that suffered blameless, and smote her\nthrough, out the body and slew her, and then turneth him again so fast\nas his horse might carry him toward his hold.  Messire Gawain seeth the\ndamsel dead and the dwarf that fleeth full speed after his lord.  He\novertaketh him and trampleth him under his horses feet so that he\nbursteth his belly in the midst.  Then goeth he toward the hold, for he\nthinketh to enter therein.  But he found the bridge shut up and the\ngate barred.  And Marin crieth out upon him.\n\n\"This shame and misadventure hath befallen me along of you, but you\nshall pay for it yet and I may live.\"\n\nMessire Gawain hath no mind to argue with him, but rather draweth him\nback and cometh again to where the lady lay dead, and setteth her on\nthe neck of his horse all bleeding, and then beareth her to a chapel\nthat was without the entrance of the hold.  Then he alighted and laid\nher within the chapel as fairly as most he might, as he that was sore\ngrieved and wrathful thereof.  After that, he shut the door of the\nchapel again as he that was afeared of the body for the wild beasts,\nand bethought him that one should come thither to set her in her shroud\nand bury her after that he was departed.\n\n\nV.\n\nThereupon Messire Gawain departeth, sore an-angered, for it seemed him\nthat never had no thing tofore befallen him that weighed so heavy on\nhis heart.  And he rideth thoughtful and down-cast through the forest,\nand seeth a knight coming along the way he came.  And in strange\nfashion came he.  He bestrode his horse backwards in right outlandish\nguise, face to tail, and he had his horse's reins right across his\nbreast and the base of his shield bore he topmost and the chief\nbottommost, and his spear upside down and his habergeon and chausses of\niron trussed about his neck.  He seeth Messire Gawain coming beside the\nforest, that hath great wonderment of him when he seeth him.\nNatheless, when they draw nigh, he turneth him not to look at Messire\nGawain, but crieth to him aloud: \"Gentle knight, you that come there,\nfor God's sake do me no hurt, for I am the Knight Coward.\"\n\n\"By God,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"You look not like a man to whom any\nought to do hurt!\"  And, but for the heaviness of his heart and the\nsore wrath that he had, he would have laughed at his bearing with a\nright good will.\n\n\"Sir Knight,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"nought have you to be afeard of\nfrom me!\"\n\nWith that he draweth anigh and looketh on him in the face and the\nKnight Coward on him.  \"Sir,\" saith he, \"Welcome may you be!\"\n\n\"And you likewise!\" saith Messire Gawain.  \"And whose man are you, Sir\nknight?\"\n\n\"The Damsel's man of the Car.\"\n\n\"Thereof I love you the better,\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"God be praised thereof,\" saith the Knight Coward, \"For now shall I\nhave no fear of you.\"\n\n\"Nay, truly,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Thereof be well assured!\"\n\nThe Knight Coward seeth Messire Gawain's shield and knoweth it. \"Ha,\nSir,\" saith he, \"Now know I well who you are.  Now will I alight and\nride the right way and set my arms to rights.  For you are Messire\nGawain, nor hath none the right to claim this shield but only you.\"\n\nThe knight alighteth and setteth his armour to rights, and prayeth\nMessire Gawain abide until he be armed.  So he abideth right willingly,\nand helpeth him withal.  Thereupon behold you a knight where he cometh\na great gallop athwart the forest like a tempest, and he had a shield\nparty black and white. \"Abide, Messire Gawain!\" saith he, \"For on\nbehalf of Marin the Jealous do I defy you, that hath slain his wife on\nyour account.\"\n\n\"Sir knight,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Thereof am I right heavy of heart,\nfor death had she not deserved.\"\n\n\"That availeth nor,\" saith the Party Knight, \"For I hold you to answer\nfor the death.  So I conquer you, the wrong is yours; but, and you\nconquer me, my lord holdeth his blame and shame for known and will hold\nyou to forfeit and you allow me to escape hence on live.\"\n\n\"To this will I not agree,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"For God well knoweth\nthat no blame have I herein.\"\n\n\"Ha, Messire Gawain,\" saith the Knight Coward, \"Fight him not as having\naffiance in me, for of me will you have neither succour nor help!\"\n\n\"Heretofore,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"have I achieved adventures without\nyou, and this also, and God help me, will I yet achieve.\"\n\nThey come together a full career and break their lances on their\nshields, and Messire Gawain hurtleth against the horse and passeth\nbeyond and overthroweth him and his horse together.  Then draweth he\nhis sword and runneth upon him.  And the knight crieth out: \"Hold,\nMessire Gawain!  Are you minded to slay me?  I yield me conquered, for\nno mind have I to die for another's folly, and so I cry you mercy\nhereof.\"\n\nMessire Gawain thinketh that he will do him no further harm, for that\nof right behoveth him do his lord's bidding.  Messire Gawain holdeth\nhis hands, and he doth him homage on behalf of his lord for his hold\nand all of his land and becometh his man.\n\n\nVI.\n\nThereupon the knight departeth and Messire Gawain remaineth there.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Knight Coward to Messire Gawain, \"I have no mind to be\nso hardy as are you; for, so God help me, had he defied me in such-wise\nas he defied you, should have fled away forthwith, or elsewise I should\nhay fallen at his feet and cried him of mercy.\"\n\n\"You wish for nought but peace,\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"By S. James,\" saith the Coward, \"Therein are you quite right, for of\nwar cometh nought but evil; nor never have I had no hurt nor wound saw\nsome branch of a tree or the like gave it me, and I see your face all\nseamed and scarred in many places.  So God help me, of such hardiesse\nmake I but small account, and every day I pray God that He defend me.\nAnd so to God I commend you, for I am going after my Damsel of the Car.\"\n\n\"Not thus shall you go,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"save you tell me first\nwherefore your Damsel of the Car beareth her arm slung to her neck in\nsuch-wise.\"\n\n\"Sir, this may I well tell you.  With this hand serve she of the most\nHoly-Graal the knight that was in the hostel of King Fisherman that\nwould not ask whereof the Graal served; for that she held therein the\nprecious vessel whereinto the glorious blood fell drop by drop from the\npoint of the lance, so that none other thing is she minded to hold\ntherein until such time as she shall come back to the holy place where\nit is.  Sir,\" saith the Knight Coward, \"Now, so please you, may I well\ngo hence, and see, here is my spear that I give you, for nought is\nthere that I have to do therewithal.\"\n\nMessire Gawain taketh it, for his own was broken short, and departeth\nfrom the knight and commendeth him to God.  And he goeth his way a\ngreat pace, and Messire Gawain also goeth amidst the forest, and full\nweary is he and forspent with travail.  And he rode until the sun was\ndue to set.  And he meeteth a knight that was coming athwart the forest\nand came toward Messire Gawain a great gallop like as he were smitten\nthrough the body, and crieth over all the forest: \"What is your name,\nSir knight?\"\n\n\"My name is Gawain.\"\n\n\"Ha, Messire Gawain,\" saith the other, \"In your service am I wounded\nthus!\"\n\n\"How in my service?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Sir, I was minded to bury the damsel that you bare into the chapel,\nand Marin the Jealous ran upon me and wounded me in many places in such\nmanner as you see.  And I had already dug a grave with my sword to bury\nthe body when he seized it from me and abandoned it to the wild beasts.\nNow go I hence yonder to the chapel of a hermit that is in this forest\nto confess me, for well know I that I have not long to live for that\nthe wound lieth me so nigh my heart.  But I shall die the more easily\nnow that I have found you and shown you the hurt that hath been done me\nfor your sake.\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"this grieveth me.\"\n\n\nVII.\n\nTherewithal the knights depart asunder, and Messire Gawain rode on\nuntil he found in the forest a castle right fair and rich, and met an\nancient knight that was issued forth of the castle for disport, and\nheld a bird on his fist.  He saluteth Messire Gawain and he him again,\nand he asked him what castle is this that he seeth show so fair?  And\nhe telleth him it is the castle of the Proud Maiden that never deigned\nask a knight his name.\n\n\"And we, that are her men, durst not do it on her behalf.  But right\nwell will you be lodged in the castle, for right courteous is she\notherwise and the fairest that ever any may know.  Nor never hath she\nhad any lord, nor deigned to love no knight save she heard tell that he\nwas the best knight in the world.  And I will go to her with you of\ncourtesy.\"\n\n\"Gramercy, Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain.  They enter into the castle both\ntwain together, and alight at the mounting-stage before the hall.  The\nknight taketh Messire Gawain by the hand and leadeth him up, and maketh\ndisarm him, and bringeth him a surcoat of scarlet purfled of vair and\nmaketh him do it on.  Then leadeth he the lady of the castle to Messire\nGawain, and he riseth up to meet her.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he \"Welcome may you be!\"\n\n\"And you, Sir, be welcome!\" saith she, \"Will you see my chapel?\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"At your pleasure.\"\n\nAnd she leadeth him and taketh Messire Gawain by the hand, and he\nlooketh at the chapel and it well seemeth him that never before had he\ncome into none so fair nor so rich, and he seeth four tombs within, the\nfairest that he had seen ever.  And on the right hand side of the\nchapel were three narrow openings in the wall that were wrought all\nabout with gold and precious stones, and beyond the three openings he\nseeth great circlets of lighted candles that were before three coffers\nof hallows that were there, and the smell thereof was sweeter than balm.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" saith the damsel, \"See you these tombs?\"\n\n\"Yea, damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"These three are made for the three best knights in the world and the\nfourth for me.  The one hath for name Messire Gawain and the second\nLancelot of the Lake.  Each of them do I love for love's sake, by my\nfaith!  And the third hath for name Perceval.  Him love I better than\nthe other two.  And within these three openings are the hallows set for\nlove of them.  And behold what I would do to them and their three heads\nwere therein; and so I might not do it to the three together, yet would\nI do it to two, or even to one only.\"\n\nShe setteth her hand toward the openings and draweth forth a pin that\nwas fastened into the wall, and a cutting blade of steel droppeth down,\nof steel sharper than any razor, and closeth up the three openings.\n\n\"Even thus will I cut off their heads when they shall set them into\nthose three openings thinking to adore the hallows that are beyond.\nAfterward will I make take the bodies and set them in the three\ncoffins, and do them be honoured and enshrouded right richly, for joy\nof them in their life may I never have.  And when the end of my life\nshall be come as God will, even so will I make set me in the fourth\ncoffin, and so shall I have company of the three good knights.\"\n\nMessire Gawain heard the word, whereof he marvelled right sore, and\nwould right fain that the night were overpassed.  They issue forth of\nthe chapel.  The damsel maketh Messire Gawain be greatly honoured that\nnight, and there was great company of knights within that served him\nand helped guard the castle.  They show Messire Gawain much worship,\nbut they knew not that it was he, nor did none ask him, for such was\nthe custom of the castle.  But well she knew that he oftentimes passed\nto and fro amidst the forest, and four of the knights that watched the\nforest and the passers-by had she commanded that and if any of these\nthree knights should pass they should bring him to her without gainsay,\nand she would increase the land of each for so doing.\n\n\nVIII.\n\nMessire Gawain was in the castle that night until the morrow, and went\nto hear mass in the chapel or ever he removed thence. Afterward, when\nhe had heard mass and was armed, he took leave of the damsel and issued\nforth of the castle as he that had no desire to abide there longer.\nAnd he entereth into the forest and rideth a long league Welsh and\nfindeth two knights sitting by a narrow path in the forest.  And when\nthey see him coming they leap up on their horses all armed and come\nagainst Messire Gawain, shields on sides and spears in fists.\n\n\"Bide, Sir knight!\" say they, \"And tell us your name without leasing!\"\n\n\"Lords,\" saith he, \"Right willingly!  never hath my name been\nwithholden when it hath been asked for.  I am called Gawain, King\nArthur's nephew.\"\n\n\"Nay, then, Sir, welcome may you be!  One other demand have we to make\nof you.  Will you come with us to the lady in the world who most\ndesireth you, and will make much joy of you at Castle Orguelleux where\nshe is?\"\n\n\"Lord,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"No leisure have I at this time, for I\nhave emprised my way else-whither.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" say they, \"Needs must you come thither without fail, for in such\nwise hath she commanded us that we shall take you thither by force an\nyou come not of your own good-will.\"\n\n\"I have told you plainly that thither will I not go,\" saith Messire\nGawain.  With that, they leap forward and take him by the bridle,\nthinking to lead him away by force.  And Messire Gawain hath shame\nthereof, and draweth his sword and smiteth one of them in such wrath\nthat he cutteth off his arm.  And the other letteth the bridle go and\nturneth him full speed; and his fellow with him that was maimed.  And\naway go they toward Castle Orguelleux and the Proud Maiden of the\ncastle and show her the mischief that hath befallen them.\n\n\"Who hath mis-handled you thus?\" saith she.\n\n\"Certes, lady, Messire Gawain.\"\n\n\"Where found you him?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" say they, \"In the forest, where he came toward us a full\ngallop, and was minded to pass by the narrows of the way, when we bade\nhim abide and come to you.  But come he would not.  We offered him\nforce, and he smote my fellow's arm off.\"\n\nShe biddeth a horn be sounded incontinent, and the knights of the\ncastle arm, and she commandeth them follow Messire Gawain, and saith\nthat she will increase the land and the charge of him that shall bring\nhim to her.  They were a good fifteen knights armed. Just as they were\nabout to issue out of the castle, behold you forthwith two keepers of\nthe forest where they come, both twain of them smitten through the\nbody. The damsel and the knights ask who hath done this to them, and\nthey say it was Messire Gawain that did it, for that they would have\nbrought him to the castle.\n\n\"Is he far away?\" saith the damsel.\n\n\"Yea,\" say they, \"Four great leagues Welsh.\"\n\n\"Wherefore the greater folly would it be to follow him,\" saith one of\nthe sixteen knights, \"For nought should we increase thereby save only\nour own shame and hurt, and my Lady hath lost him through her own\ndefault, for well know we that he it was that lay within, for that he\nbeareth a shield sinople with a golden eagle.\"\n\n\"Yea,\" saith the wounded knight, \"Without fail.\"\n\n\"Is this then he?\" saith the damsel.  \"I know him well now that I have\nlost him by my pride and by my outrage; nor never more will knight lie\nin my hostel sith that he will be estranged for that I ask not his\nname.  But it is too late!  Herein have I failed of this one for ever\nand ever save God bring him back to me, and through this one shall I\nlose the other two!\"\n\n\nIX.\n\nHerewithal cometh to a stay the pursuit of Messire Gawain, that goeth\nhis way and prayeth God that He send him true counsel of that he hath\nemprised, and that He allow him to come into some place where he may\nhear true witting of the hostel of King Fisherman.  And while he was\nthus thinking, he heareth a brachet questing, and he cometh toward him\na great pace.  When he is come anigh Messire Gawain he setteth his nose\nto the ground and findeth a track of blood through a grassy way in the\nforest, and when Messire Gawain was minded to leave the way where the\ntrack of blood was, the brachet came over against him and quested.\nMessire Gawain is minded not to abandon the track, wherefore he\nfolloweth the brachet a great pace until he cometh to a marish in the\nmidst of the forest, and seeth there in the marish a house, ancient and\ndecayed.  He passeth with the brachet over the bridge, that was right\nfeeble, and there was a great water under it, and cometh to the hall,\nthat was wasted and old.  And the brachet leaveth of his questing.\nMessire Gawain seeth in the midst of house a knight that was stricken\nright through the breast unto the heart and there lay dead.  A damsel\nwas issuing forth of the chamber and bare the winding-sheet wherein to\nenshroud him.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Good adventure may you have!\"\n\nThe damsel that was weeping right tenderly, saith to him: \"Sir, I will\nanswer you not.\"\n\nShe cometh toward the dead knight, thinking that his wounds should have\nbegun to bleed afresh, but they did not.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she to Messire Gawain, \"Welcome may you be!\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he. \"God grant you greater joy than you have!\"\n\nAnd the damsel saith to the brachet: \"It was not this one I sent you\nback to fetch, but him that slew this knight.\"\n\n\"Know you then, damsel, who hath slain him?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Yea,\" saith she, \"well!  Lancelot of the Lake slew him in this forest,\non whom God grant me vengeance, and on all them of King Arthur's court,\nfor sore mischief and great hurt have they wrought us!  But, please\nGod, right well shall this knight yet be avenged, for a right fair son\nhath he whose sister am I, and so hath he many good friends withal.\"\n\n\"Damsel, to God I commend you!\" saith Messire Gawain.  With that, he\nissueth forth of the Waste Manor and betaketh him back to the way he\nhad abandoned, and prayeth God grant he may find Lancelot of the Lake.\n\n\n\nBRANCH V.\n\nINCIPIT.\n\nHere beginneth again another branch of the Graal in the name of the\nFather, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.\n\n\nTITLE I.\n\nMessire Gawain goeth his way and evening draweth on; and on his right\nhand was there a narrow pathway that seemed him to be haunted of folk.\nThitherward goeth he, for that he seeth the sun waxeth low, and findeth\nin the thick of the forest a great chapel, and without was a right fair\nmanor.  Before the chapel was an orchard enclosed of a wooden fence\nthat was scarce so high as a tall man.  A hermit that seemed him a\nright worshipful man was leaning against the fence, and looked into the\norchard and made great cheer from time to time.  He seeth Messire\nGawain, and cometh to meet him, and Messire Gawain alighteth.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"Welcome may you be.\"\n\n\"God grant you the joy of Paradise,\" saith Messire Gawain.  The hermit\nmaketh his horse be stabled of a squire, and then taketh him by the\nhand and maketh him sit beside him to look on the orchard.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"Now may you see that whereof I was making\ncheer.\"\n\nMessire Gawain looketh therewithin and seeth two damsels and a squire\nand a child that were guarding a lion.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"Here see my joy, which is this child. Saw you\never so fair a child his age?\"\n\n\"Never,\" saith Messire Gawain.  They go into the orchard to sit, for\nthe evening was fair and calm.  He maketh disarm him, and thereupon the\ndamsel bringeth him a surcoat of right rich silk furred of ermine.  And\nMessire Gawain looketh at the child that rode upon the lion right\nfainly.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"None durst guard him or be master over him\nsave this child only, and yet the lad is not more than six years of\nage.  Sir, he is of right noble lineage, albeit he is the son of the\nmost cruel man and most felon that is.  Marin the Jealous is his\nfather, that slew his wife on account of Messire Gawain.  Never\nsithence that his mother was dead would not the lad be with his father,\nfor well knoweth he that he slew her of wrong.  And I am his uncle, so\nI make him be tended here of these damsels and these two squires, but\nno one thing is there that he so much desireth to see as Messire\nGawain.  For after his father's death ought he of right to be Messire\nGawain's man. Sir, if any tidings you know of him, tell us them.\"\n\n\"By my faith, Sir,\" saith he, \"Tidings true can I give you.  Lo, there\nis his shield and his spear, and himself shall you have this night for\nguest.\"\n\n\"Fair sir, are you he?\" saith the hermit.\n\n\"So men call me,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"And the lady saw I slain in\nthe forest, whereof was I sore an-angered.\"\n\n\nII.\n\n\"Fair nephew,\" saith the hermit, \"See here your desire.  Come to him\nand make him cheer.\"\n\nThe lad alighteth of the lion and smiteth him with a whip and leadeth\nhim to the den and maketh the door so that he may not issue forth, and\ncometh to Messire Gawain, and Messire Gawain receiveth him between his\narms. \"Sir,\" saith the child, \"Welcome may you be!\"\n\n\"God give you growth of honour!\" saith Messire Gawain.  He kisseth him\nand maketh cheer with him right sweetly.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"He will be of right your man, wherefore ought\nyou to counsel him and help him, for through you came his mother by her\ndeath, and right sore need will he have of your succour.\"  The child\nkneeleth before him and holdeth up his joined hands.\n\n\"Look, Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"Is he not right pitiful?  He offereth\nyou his homage.\"\n\nAnd Messire Gawain setteth his hands within his own: \"Certes,\" saith\nMessire Gawain, \"Both your honour and your homage receive I gladly, and\nmy succour and my counsel shall you have so often as you shall have\nneed thereof.  But fain would I know your name?\"\n\n\"Sir, I am called Meliot of Logres.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"He saith true, for his mother was daughter of\na rich earl of the kingdom of Logres.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nMessire Gawain was well harboured the night and lay in a right fair\nhouse and right rich.  In the morning, when Messire Gawain had heard\nmass, the hermit asked him, \"Whitherward go you?\" and he said, \"Toward\nthe land of King Fisherman, and God allow me.\"\n\n\"Messire Gawain,\" saith the hermit, \"Now God grant you speed your\nbusiness better than did the other knight that was there before you,\nthrough whom are all the lands fallen into sorrow, and the good King\nFisherman languisheth thereof.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"God grant me herein to do His pleasure.\"\n\nThereupon he taketh his leave and goeth his way, and the hermit\ncommendeth him to God.  And Messire Gawain rideth on his journeys until\nhe hath left far behind the forest of the hermitage, and findeth the\nfairest land in the world and the fairest meadowlands that ever had he\nseen, and it lasted a good couple of great leagues Welsh.  And he seeth\na high forest before him, and meeteth a squire that came from that\nquarter, and seeth that he is sore downcast and right simple.\n\n\"Fair friend,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Whence come you?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"I come from yonder forest down below.\"\n\n\"Whose man are you?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"I belong to the worshipful man that owneth the forest.\"\n\n\"You seem not over joyful,\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Sir, I have right to be otherwise,\" saith the squire, \"For he that\nloseth his good lord ought not to be joyful.\"\n\n\"And who is your lord?\"\n\n\"The best in the world.\"\n\n\"Is he dead?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Nay, of a truth, for that would be right sore grief to the world, but\nin joy hath he not been this long time past.\"\n\n\"And what name hath he?\"\n\n\"They call him Parlui there where he is.\"\n\n\"And where then, is he, may I know?\"\n\n\"In no wise, Sir, of me; but so much may I well tell you that he is in\nthis forest, but I ought not to learn you of the place more at large,\nnor ought I to do any one thing that may be against my master's will.\"\n\nMessire Gawain seeth that the squire is of passing comeliness and seeth\nhim forthwith bow his head toward the ground and the tears fall from\nhis eyes.  Thereupon he asketh what aileth him.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Never may I have joy until such time as I be entered\ninto a hermitage to save my soul.  For the greatest sin that any man\nmay do have I wrought; for I have slain my mother that was a Queen, for\nthis only that she told me I should not be King after my father's\ndeath, for that she would make me monk or clerk, and that my other\nbrother, who is younger-born than I, should have the kingdom.  When my\nfather knew that I had slain my mother, he withdrew himself into this\nforest, and made a hermitage and renounced his kingdom.  I have no will\nto hold the land for the great disloyalty that I have wrought, and\ntherefore am I resolved that it is meeter I should set my body in\nbanishment than my father.\"\n\n\"And what is your name?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Sir, my name is Joseus, and I am of the lineage of Joseph of\nAbarimacie.  King Pelles is my father, that is in this forest, and King\nFisherman mine uncle, and the King of Castle Mortal, and the Widow Lady\nof Camelot my aunt, and the Good Knight Par-lui-fet is of this lineage\nas near akin as I.\"\n\n\nIV.\n\nWith that, the squire departeth and taketh leave of Messire Gawain, and\nhe commendeth him to God and hath great pity of him, and entereth into\nthe forest and goeth great pace, and findeth the stream of a spring\nthat ran with a great rushing, and nigh thereunto was a way that was\nmuch haunted.  He abandoneth his high-way, and goeth all along the\nstream from the spring that lasteth a long league plenary, until that\nhe espieth a right fair house and right fair chapel well enclosed\nwithin a hedge of wood. He looketh from without the entrance under a\nlittle tree and seeth there sitting one of the seemliest men that he\nhad ever seen of his age.  And he was clad as a hermit, his head white\nand no hair on his face, and he held his hand to his chin, and made a\nsquire hold a destrier right fair and strong and tail, and a shield\nwith a sun thereon; and he was looking at a habergeon and chausses of\niron that he had made bring before him.  And when he seeth Messire\nGawain he dresseth him over against him and saith: \"Fair sir,\" saith\nhe, \"Ride gently and make no noise, for no need have we of worse than\nthat we have.\"\n\nAnd Messire Gawain draweth rein, and the worshipful man saith to him:\n\"Sir, for God's sake take it not of discourtesy; for right fainly would\nI have besought you to harbour had I not good cause to excuse me, but a\nknight lieth within yonder sick, that is held for the best knight in\nthe world.  Wherefore fain would I he should have no knight come within\nthis close, for and if he should rise, as sick as he is, none might\nprevent him nor hold him back, but presently he should arm him and\nmount on his horse and joust at you or any other; and so he were here,\nwell might we be the worse thereof.  And therefore do I keep him so\nclose and quiet within yonder, for that I would not have him see you\nnor none other, for and he were so soon to die, sore loss would it be\nto the world.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"What name hath he?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"He hath made him of himself, and therefore do I call\nhim Par-lui-fer, of dearness and love.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"May it not be in any wise that I may see\nhim?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"I have told you plainly that nowise may it\nnot be.  No strange man shall not see him within yonder until such time\nas he be whole and of good cheer.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Will you in nowise do nought for me\nwhatsoever I may say?\"\n\n\"Certes, sir, no one thing is there in the world that I would tell him,\nsave he spake first to me.\"\n\nHereof is Messire Gawain right sorrowful that he may not speak to the\nknight.  \"Sir,\" saith he to the hermit, \"Of what age is the knight, and\nof what lineage?\"\n\n\"Of the lineage of Joseph of Abarimacie the Good Soldier.\"\n\n\nV.\n\nThereupon behold you a damsel that cometh to the door of the chapel and\ncalleth very low to the hermit, and the hermit riseth up and taketh\nleave of Messire Gawain, and shutteth the door of the chapel; and the\nsquire leadeth away the destrier and beareth the arms within door and\nshutteth the postern door of the house. And Messire abideth without and\nknoweth not of a truth whether it be the son of the Widow Lady, for\nmany good men there be of one lineage.  He departeth all abashed and\nentereth again into the forest.  The history telleth not all the\njourneys that he made. Rather, I tell you in brief words that he\nwandered so far by lands and kingdoms that he found a right fair land\nand a rich, and a castle seated in the midst thereof.  Thitherward\ngoeth he and draweth nigh the castle and seeth it compassed about of\nhigh walls, and he seeth the entrance of the castle far without.  He\nlooketh and seeth a lion chained that lay in the midst of the entrance\nto the gate, and the chain was fixed in the wall.  And on either side\nof the gate he seeth two serjeants of beaten copper that were fixed to\nthe wall, and by engine shot forth quarrels from their cross-bows with\ngreat force and great wrath. Messire Gawain durst not come anigh the\ngate for that he seeth the lion and these folk.  He looketh above on\nthe top of the wall and seeth a sort of folk that seemed him to be of\nholy life, and saw there priests clad in albs and knights bald and\nancient that were clad in ancient seeming garments.  And in each crenel\nof the wall was a cross and a chapel.  Above the wall, hard by an issue\nfrom a great hall that was in the castle, was another chapel, and above\nthe chapel was a tall cross, and on either side of this cross another\nthat was somewhat lower, and on the top of each cross was a golden\neagle.  The priests and the knights were upon the walls and knelt\ntoward this chapel, and looked up to heaven and made great joy, and\nwell it seemed him that they beheld God in Heaven with His Mother.\nMessire Gawain looketh at them from afar, for he durst not come anigh\nthe castle for these that shoot their arrows so strongly that none\narmour might defend him.  Way seeth he none to right nor left save he\ngo back again.  He knoweth not what to do. He looketh before him and\nseeth a priest issue forth of the gateway.  \"Fair sir,\" saith Messire\nGawain, \"Welcome may you be!\"\n\n\"Good adventure to you also,\" saith the good man, \"What is your\npleasure?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"So please you, I would fain ask you to\ntell me what castle is this?\"\n\n\"It is,\" saith he, \"the entrance to the land of the rich King\nFisherman, and within yonder are they beginning the service of the Most\nHoly Graal.\"\n\n\"Allow me then,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"that I may pass on further, for\ntoward the land of King Fisherman have I emprised my way.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the priest, \"I tell you of a truth that you may not enter\nthe castle nor come nigher unto the Holy Graal, save you bring the\nsword wherewith S. John was beheaded.\"\n\n\"What?\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Shall I be evilly entreated and I bring\nit not?\"\n\n\"So much may you well believe me herein,\" saith the priest, \"And I tell\nyou moreover that he who hath it is the fellest misbelieving King that\nlives.  But so you bring the Sword, this entrance will be free to you,\nand great joy will be made of you in all places wherein King Fisherman\nhath power.\"\n\n\"Then must I needs go back again,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Whereof I\nhave right to be sore sorrowful.\"\n\n\"So ought you not to be,\" saith the priest, \"For, so you bring the\nsword and conquer it for us, then will it be well known that you are\nworthy to behold the Holy Graal.  But take heed you remember him who\nwould not ask whereof it served.\"\n\nThereupon Messire Gawain departeth so sorrowful and full of thought\nthat he remembereth not to ask in what land he may find the sword nor\nthe name of the King that hath it.  But he will know tidings thereof\nwhen God pleaseth.\n\n\nVI.\n\nThe history telleth us and witnesseth that he rode so far that he came\nto the side of a little hill, and the day was right fair and clear.  He\nlooketh in front of him before a chapel and seeth a tall burgess\nsitting on a great destrier that was right rich and fair.  The burgess\nespieth Messire Gawain and cometh over against him, and saluteth him\nright courteously and Messire Gawain him.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"God give you joy.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the goodman, \"Right sorrowful am I of this that you have a\nhorse so lean and spare of flesh.  Better would it become so worshipful\nman as you seem to be that he were better horsed.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"I may not now amend it, whereof am I\nsorry; another shall I have when it shall please God.\"\n\n\"Fair sir,\" saith the burgess, \"Whither are you bound to go?\"\n\n\"I go seek the sword wherewith the head of S. John Baptist was cut off.\"\n\n\"Ha, sir,\" saith the burgess, \"You are running too sore a peril. A King\nhath it that believeth not in God, and is sore fell and cruel.  He is\nnamed Gurgalain, and many knights have passed hereby that went thither\nfor the sword, but never thence have they returned.  But, and you are\nwilling to pledge me your word that so God grant you to conquer the\nsword, you will return hither and show it me on your return, I will\ngive you this destrier, which is right rich, for your own.\"\n\n\"Will you?\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Then are you right courteous, for\nyou know me not.\"\n\n\"Certes, sir,\" saith he, \"So worshipful man seem you to be, that you\nwill hold well to this that you have covenanted with me.\"\n\n\"And to this do I pledge you my word,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"that, so\nGod allow me to conquer it, I will show it to you on my return.\"\n\n\nVII.\n\nThereupon the burgess alighteth and mounteth upon Messire Gawain's\nhorse, and Messire Gawain upon his, and taketh leave of the burgess and\ngoeth his way and entereth into a right great forest beyond the city,\nand rideth until sundown and findeth neither castle nor city.  And he\nfindeth a meadow in the midst of the forest, right broad, and it ran on\nbeyond, like as there were the stream of a spring in the midst.  He\nlooketh toward the foot of the meadow close by the forest, and seeth a\nright large tent, whereof the cords were of silk and the pegs of ivory\nfixed in the ground, and the tops of the poles of gold and upon each\nwas a golden eagle.  The tent was white round about, and the hanging\nabove was of the richest silk, the same as red samite. Thitherward\ngoeth Messire Gawain and alighteth before the door of the tent, and\nsmiteth off the bridle of his horse, and letteth him feed on the grass,\nand leaneth his spear and his shield without the tent, and looketh\nnarrowly within and seeth a right rich couch of silk and gold, and\nbelow was a cloth unfolded as it were a feather-bed, and above a\ncoverlid of ermine and vair without any gold, and at the head of the\ncouch two pillows so rich that fairer none ever saw, and such sweet\nsmell gave they forth that it seemed the tent was sprinkled of balm.\nAnd round about the couch were rich silken cloths spread on the ground.\nAnd at the head of the couch on the one side and the other were two\nseats of ivory, and upon them were two cushions stuffed with straw,\nright rich, and at the foot of the couch, above the bed, two\ncandlesticks of gold wherein were two tall waxen tapers.  A table was\nset in the midst of the tent, that was all of ivory banded of gold,\nwith rich precious stones, and upon the table was the napkin spread and\nthe basin of silver and the knife with an ivory handle and the rich set\nof golden vessels.  Messire Gawain seeth the rich couch and setteth him\ndown thereon all armed in the midst, and marvelleth him wherefore the\ntent is so richly apparelled and yet more that therein he seeth not a\nsoul. Howbeit, he was minded to disarm him.\n\n\nVIII.\n\nThereupon, behold you, saluteth a dwarf that entereth the tent and\nsaluteth Messire Gawain.  Then he kneeleth before him and would fain\ndisarm him.  Then Messire Gawain remembereth him of the dwarf through\nwhom the lady was slain.\n\n\"Fair sweet friend, withdraw yourself further from me, for as at this\ntime I have no mind to disarm.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the dwarf, \"Without misgiving may you do so, for until\nto-morrow have you no occasion to be on your guard, and never were you\nmore richly lodged than to-night you shall be, nor more honourably.\"\n\nWith that Messire Gawain began to disarm him, and the dwarf helpeth\nhim.  And when he was disarmed, he setteth his arms nigh the couch and\nhis spear and sword and shield lying within the tent, and the dwarf\ntaketh a basin of silver and a white napkin, and maketh Messire Gawain\nwash his hands and his face. Afterward, he unfasteneth a right fair\ncoffer, and draweth forth a robe of cloth of gold furred of ermine and\nmaketh Messire Gawain be clad therewithal.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the dwarf, \"Be not troubled as touching your destrier, for\nyou will have him again when you rise in the morning.  I will lead him\nclose hereby to be better at ease, and then will I return to you.\"\n\nAnd Messire Gawain giveth him leave.  Thereupon, behold you, two\nsquires that bear in the wine and set the meats upon the table and make\nMessire Gawain sit to eat, and they have great torches lighted on a\ntall cresset of gold and depart swiftly.  Whilst Messire Gawain was\neating, behold you, thereupon, two damsels that come into the tent and\nsalute him right courteously.  And he maketh answer, the fairest he may.\n\n\"Sir,\" say the damsels, \"God grant you force and power tomorrow to\ndestroy the evil custom of this tent.\"\n\n\"Is there then any evil custom herein, damsel?\" saith he.\n\n\"Yea, sir, a right foul custom, whereof much it grieveth me, but well\nmeseemeth that you are the knight to amend it by the help of God.\"\n\n\nIX.\n\nTherewith he riseth from the table, and one of the squires was\napparelled to take away the cloths.  And the two damsels take him by\nthe hand and lead him without the tent, and they set them down in the\nmidst of the meadow.  \"Sir,\" saith the elder damsel, \"What is your\nname?\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"Gawain is my name.\"\n\n\"Thereof do we love you the better, for well we know that the evil\ncustom of the tent shall be done away on condition that you choose\nto-night the one of us two that most shall please you.\"\n\n\"Damsel, gramercy,\" saith he.  Thereupon he riseth up, for he was\nweary, and draweth him toward the couch, and the damsels help him and\nwait upon his going to bed.  And when he was lien down, they seated\nthemselves before him and lighted the taper and leant over the couch\nand prospered him much service.  Messire Gawain answered them naught\nsave \"Gramercy,\" for he was minded to sleep and take his rest.\n\n\"By God,\" saith the one to the other, \"And this were Messire Gawain,\nKing Arthur's nephew, he would speak to us after another sort, and more\nof disport should we find in him than in this one. But this is a\ncounterfeit Gawain, and the honour we have done him hath been ill\nbestowed.  Who careth?  To-morrow shall he pay his reckoning.\"\n\n\nX.\n\nThereupon, lo you, the dwarf where he cometh.  \"Fair friend,\" say they,\n\"Keep good watch over this knight that he flee not away, for he goeth\na-cadging from, hostel to hostel and maketh him be called Messire\nGawain, but Messire Gawain meseemeth is he not. For, and it were he,\nand we had been minded to watch with him two nights, he would have\nwished it to be three or four.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the dwarf, \"He may not flee away save he go afoot, for\nhis horse is in my keeping.\"\n\nAnd Messire Gawain heareth well enough that which the damsels say, but\nhe answereth them never a word.  Thereupon they depart, and say: God\ngive him an ill night, for an evil knight and a vanquished and\nrecreant, and command the dwarf that he move not on any occasion.\nMessire Gawain slept right little the night, and so soon as he saw the\nday, arose and found his arms ready and his horse that had been led all\nready saddled before the tent. He armed himself as swiftly as he might,\nand the dwarf helpeth him and saith to him: \"Sir, you have not done\nservice to our damsels as they would fain you should, wherefore they\nmake sore complaint of you.\"\n\n\"That grieveth me,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"if that I have deserved it.\"\n\n\"It is great pity,\" saith the dwarf, \"when knight so comely as be you\nis so churlish as they say.\"\n\n\"They may say their pleasure,\" saith he, \"for it is their right. I know\nnot to whom to render thanks for the good lodging that I have had save\nto God, and if I shall see the lord of the tent or the lady I shall con\nthem much thanks thereof.\"\n\n\nXI.\n\nThereupon, lo you, where two knights come in front of the tent on their\nhorses, all armed, and see Messire Gawain that was mounted and had his\nshield on his neck and his spear in his fist, as he that thinketh to go\nwithout doing aught further.  And the knights come before him: \"Sir,\"\nsay they, \"Pay for your lodging!  Last night did we put ourselves to\nmisease on your account and left you the tent and all that is therein\nat your pleasure, and now you are fain to go in this fashion.\"\n\n\"What pleaseth it you that I should do?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"It is meet I should requite you of my victual and the honour of the\ntent.\"\n\nThereupon, lo you, where the two damsels come that were of right great\nbeauty.  \"Sir Knight,\" say they, \"Now shall we see whether you be King\nArthur's nephew!\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith the dwarf, \"Methinketh this is not he that shall\ndo away the evil custom whereby we lose the coming hither of knights!\nAlbeit if he may do it, I will forego mine ill will toward him.\"\n\nMessire Gawain thus heard himself mocked by day as well as by night and\nhad great shame thereof.  He seeth that he may not depart without a\nfight.  One of the knights drew to backward and was alighted; the other\nwas upon his horse all armed, his shield on his neck and grasping his\nspear in his fist.  And he cometh toward Messire Gawain full career and\nMessire Gawain toward him, and smiteth him so wrathfully that he\npierceth his shield and pinneth his shield to his arm and his arm to\nhis rib and thrusteth his spear into his body, and hurtleth against him\nso sore that he beareth him to the ground, him and his horse together\nat the first blow.\n\n\"By my head!  Look at Messire Gawain the counterfeit!  Better doth he\nto-day than he did last night!\"\n\nHe draweth back his spear, and pulleth forth his sword and runneth upon\nhim, when the knight crieth him mercy and saith that he holdeth himself\nvanquished.  Messire Gawain bethinketh him what he shall do and whether\nthe damsels are looking at him.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" saith the elder, \"Need you not fear the other knight\nuntil such time as this one be slain, nor will the evil custom be done\naway so long as this one is on live.  For he is the lord of the other\nand because of the shameful custom hath no knight come hither this\nright long space.\"\n\n\"Hearken now,\" saith the knight, \"the great disloyalty of her! Nought\nin the world is there she loved so well in seeming as did she me, and\nnow hath she adjudged me my death!\"\n\n\"Again I tell you plainly,\" saith she, \"that never will it be done away\nunless he slay you.\"\n\nThereupon Messire Gawain lifteth the skirt of his habergeon and\nthrusteth his sword into his body.  Thereupon, lo you, the other\nknight, right angry and sorrowful and full of wrath for his fellow that\nhe seeth dead, and cometh in great rage to Messire Gawain and Messire\nGawain to him, and so stoutly they mell together that they pierce the\nshields and pierce the habergeons and break the flesh of the ribs with\nthe points of their spears, and the bodies of the knights and their\nhorses hurtle together so stiffly that saddle-bows are to-frushed and\nstirrups loosened and girths to-brast and fewtres splintered and spears\nsnapped short, and the knights drop to the ground with such a shock\nthat the blood rayeth forth at mouth and nose.  In the fall that the\nknight made, Messire Gawain brake his collar-bone in the hurtle.\nThereupon the dwarf crieth out: \"Damsel, your counterfeit Gawain doth\nit well!\"\n\n\"Our Gawain shall he be,\" say they, \"so none take him from us!\"\n\nMessire Gawain draweth from over the knight and cometh toward his\nhorse, and right fain would he have let the knight live had it not been\nfor the damsels.  For the knight crieth him mercy and Messire Gawain\nhad right great pity of him.  Howbeit the damsels cry to him; \"And you\nslay him not, the evil custom will not be overthrown.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the younger damsel, \"And you would slay him, smite him in\nthe sole of his foot with your sword, otherwise will he not die yet.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the knight, \"Your love of me is turned to shame! Never\nmore ought knight to set affiance nor love on damsel.  But God keep the\nother that they be not such as you!\"\n\nMessire Gawain marvelleth at this that the damsel saith to him, and\ndraweth him back, and hath great pity of the knight, and cometh to the\nother side whither the horses were gone, and taketh the saddle of the\nknight that was dead and setteth it on his own horse and draweth him\naway.  And the wounded knight was remounted, for the dwarf had helped\nhim, and fleeth toward the forest a great gallop.  And the damsels cry\nout, \"Messire Gawain, your pity will be our death this day!  For the\nKnight without Pity is gone for succour, and if he escape, we shall be\ndead and you also!\"\n\n\nXII.\n\nThereupon Messire Gawain leapeth on his horse and taketh a spear that\nwas leaning against the tent and followeth the knight in such sort that\nhe smiteth him to the ground.  Afterward he saith to him: \"No further\nmay you go!\"\n\n\"That grieveth me,\" saith the knight, \"For before night should I have\nbeen avenged of you and of the damsels.\"\n\nAnd Messire Gawain draweth his sword and thrusteth it into the sole of\nhis foot a full palm's breadth, and the knight stretcheth himself forth\nand dieth.  And Messire Gawain returneth back, and the damsels make\ngreat joy of him and tell him that never otherwise could the evil\ncustom have been done away.  For, and he had gone his way, all would\nhave been to begin over again, for he is of such kind seeing that he\nwas of the kindred of Achilles, and that all his ancestors might never\notherwise die.  And Messire Gawain alighteth, and the damsels would\nhave searched the wound in his side, and he telleth them that he taketh\nno heed thereof.\n\n\"Sir,\" say they, \"Again do we proffer you our service, for well we know\nthat you are a good knight.  Take for your lady-love which of us you\nwill.\"\n\n\"Gramercy, damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Your love do I refuse not\nand to God do I commend you.\"\n\n\"How?\" say the damsels, \"Will you go your way thus?  Certes, meeter\nwere it to-day for you to sojourn in this tent and be at ease.\"\n\n\"It may not be,\" saith he, \"for leisure have I none to abide here.\"\n\n\"Let him go!\" saith the younger, \"for the falsest knight is he of the\nworld.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the elder, \"it grieveth me that he goeth, for stay\nwould have pleased me well.\"\n\nTherewithal Messire Gawain departeth and is remounted on his horse.\nThen he entereth into the forest.\n\n\n\nBRANCH VI.\n\nINCIPIT.\n\nAnother branch that Josephus telleth us recounteth and witnesseth of\nthe Holy Graal, and here beginneth for us in the name of the Father,\nand of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.\n\n\nTITLE I.\n\nMessire Gawain rode until he came to a forest, and seeth a land right\nfair and rich in a great enclosure of wall, and round the land and\ncountry-side within, the wall stretched right far away. Thitherward he\ncometh and seeth but one entrance thereinto, and he seeth the fairest\nland that ever he beheld and the best garnished and the fairest\norchards.  The country was not more than four leagues Welsh in length,\nand in the midst thereof was a tower on a high rock.  And on the top\nwas a crane that kept watch over it and cried when any strange man came\ninto the country. Messire Gawain rode amidst the land and the crane\ncried out so loud that the King of Wales heard it, that was lord of the\nland. Thereupon, behold you, two knights that come after Messire Gawain\nand say to him: \"Hold, Sir knight, and come speak with the king of this\ncountry, for no strange knight passeth through his land but he seeth\nhim.\"\n\n\"Lords,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"I knew not of the custom. Willingly\nwill I go.\"\n\nThey led him thither to the hall where the King was, and Messire Gawain\nalighteth and setteth his shield and his spear leaning against a\nmounting stage and goeth up into the hall.  The King maketh great joy\nof him and asketh him whither he would go?\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Into a country where I was never.\"\n\n\"Well I know,\" saith the king, \"where it is, for that you are passing\nthrough my land.  You are going to the country of King Gurgalain to\nconquer the sword wherewith S. John was beheaded.\"\n\n\nII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"You say true.  God grant me that I may\nhave it!\"\n\n\"That may not be so hastily,\" saith the King, \"For you shall not go\nforth of my land before a year.\"\n\n\"Ha, Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"For God's sake, mercy!\"\n\n\"None other mercy is here,\" saith the King.  Straightway he maketh\nMessire Gawain be disarmed and afterward maketh bring a robe wherewith\nto apparel him, and showeth him much honour.  But ill is he at ease,\nwherefore he saith to him: \"Sir, wherefore are you fain to hold me here\nwithin so long?\"\n\n\"For this, that I know well you will have the sword and will not return\nby me.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"I pledge you my word that, so God give me\nto conquer it, I will return by you.\"\n\n\"And I will allow you to depart from me at your will.  For nought is\nthere that I so much desire to see.\"\n\nHe lay the night therewithin, and on the morrow departed thence and\nissued forth of the land right glad and joyful.  And he goeth toward\nthe land of King Gurgalain.  And he entereth into a noisome forest at\nthe lower part and findeth at the right hour of noon a fountain that\nwas enclosed of marble, and it was overshadowed of the forest like as\nit were with leaves down below, and it had rich pillars of marble all\nround about with fillets of gold and set with precious stones.  Against\nthe master-pillar hung a vessel of gold by a silver chain, and in the\nmidst of the fountain was an image so deftly wrought as if it had been\nalive.  When Messire appeared at the fountain, the image set itself in\nthe water and was hidden therewith.  Messire Gawain goeth down, and\nwould fain have taken hold on the vessel of gold when a voice crieth\nout to him: \"You are not the Good Knight unto whom is served thereof\nand who thereby is made whole.\"\n\nMessire Gawain draweth him back and seeth a clerk come to the fountain\nthat was young of age and clad in white garments, and he had a stole on\nhis arm and held a little square vessel of gold, and cometh to the\nlittle vessel that was hanging on the marble pillar and looketh\ntherein, and then rinseth out the other little golden vessel that he\nheld, and then setteth the one that he held in the place of the other.\nTherewithal, behold, three damsels that come of right great beauty, and\nthey had white garments and their heads were covered with white cloths,\nand they carried, one, bread in a little golden vessel, and the other\nwine in a little ivory vessel, and the third flesh in one of silver.\nAnd they come to the vessel of gold that hung against the pillar and\nset therein that which they have brought, and afterward they make the\nsign of the cross over the pillar and come back again. But on their\ngoing back, it seemed to Messire Gawain that only one was there.\nMessire Gawain much marvelled him of this miracle.  He goeth after the\nclerk that carried the other vessel of gold, and saith unto him: \"Fair\nSir, speak to me.\"\n\n\"What is your pleasure?\" saith the clerk.\n\n\"Whither carry you this golden vessel and that which is therein?\"\n\n\"To the hermits,\" saith he, \"that are in this forest, and to the Good\nknight that lieth sick in the house of his uncle King Hermit.\"\n\n\"Is it far from hence?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Yea, Sir,\" saith the clerk, \"to yourself.  But I shall be there sooner\nthan will you.\"\n\n\"By God,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"I would fain I were there now, so that\nI might see him and speak to him.\"\n\n\"That believe I well,\" saith the clerk, \"But now is the place not here.\"\n\nMessire Gawain taketh leave and goeth his way and rideth until he\nfindeth a hermitage and seeth the hermit therewithout.  He was old and\nbald and of good life.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he to Messire Gawain, \"Whither go you?\"\n\n\"To the land of King Gurgalain, Sir; is this the way?\"\n\n\"Yea,\" saith the hermit, \"But many knights have passed hereby that\nhither have never returned.\"\n\n\"Is it far?\" saith he.\n\n\"He and his land are hard by, but far away is the castle wherein is the\nsword.\"\n\nMessire Gawain lay the night therewithin.  On the morrow when he had\nheard mass, he departed and rode until he cometh to the land of King\nGurgalain, and heareth the folk of the land making dole right sore.\nAnd he meeteth a knight that cometh a great pace to a castle.\n\n\nIV.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Wherefore make the folk of this castle\nsuch dole, and they of all this land and all this country? For I hear\nthem weep and beat their palms together on every side.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"I will tell you.  King Gurgalain had one only son of\nwhom he hath been bereft by a Giant that hath done him many mischiefs\nand wasted much of his land.  Now hath the King let everywhere be cried\nthat to him that shall bring back his son and slay the Giant he will\ngive the fairest sword of the world, the which sword he hath, and of\nall his treasure so much as he may be fain to take.  As at this time,\nhe findeth no knight so hardy that he durst go; and much more blameth\nhe his own law than the law of the Christians, and he saith that if any\nChristian should come into his land, he would receive him.\"\n\nRight joyous is Messire Gawain of these tidings, and departeth from the\ncastle and rideth on until he cometh to the castle of King Gurgalain.\nThe tidings come to the King that there is a Christian come into his\ncastle.  The King maketh great joy thereof, and maketh him come before\nhim and asketh him of his name and of what land he is.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"My name is Gawain and I am of the land of King\nArthur.\"\n\n\"You are,\" saith he, \"of the land of the Good Knight.  But of mine own\nland may I find none that durst give counsel in a matter I have on\nhand.  But if you be of such valour that you be willing to undertake to\ncounsel me herein, right well will I reward you. A Giant hath carried\noff my son whom I loved greatly, and so you be willing to set your body\nin jeopardy for my son, I will give you the richest sword that was ever\nforged, whereby the head of S. John was cut off.  Every day at right\nnoon is it bloody, for that at that hour the good man had his head cut\noff.\"\n\nThe King made fetch him the sword, and in the first place showeth him\nthe scabbard that was loaded of precious stones and the mountings were\nof silk with buttons of gold, and the hilt in likewise, and the pommel\nof a most holy sacred stone that Enax, a high emperor of Rome, made be\nset thereon.  Then the King draweth it forth of the scabbard, and the\nsword came forth thereof all bloody, for it was the hour of noon.  And\nhe made hold it before Messire Gawain until the hour was past, and\nthereafter the sword becometh as clear as an emerald and as green.  And\nMessire looketh at it and coveteth it much more than ever he did\nbefore, and he seeth that it is as long as another sword, albeit, when\nit is sheathed in the scabbard, neither scabbard nor sword seemeth of\ntwo spans length.\n\n\nV.\n\n\"Sir Knight,\" saith the King, \"This sword will I give you, and another\nthing will I do whereof you shall have joy.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"And I will do your need, if God please\nand His sweet Mother.\"\n\nThereupon he teacheth him the way whereby the Giant went, and the place\nwhere he had his repair, and Messire Gawain goeth his way thitherward\nand commendeth himself to God.  The country folk pray for him according\nto their belief that he may back repair with life and health, for that\nhe goeth in great peril.  He hath ridden until that he cometh to a\ngreat high mountain that lay round about a land that the Giant had all\nlaid waste, and the enclosure of the mountain went round about for a\ngood three leagues Welsh, and therewithin was the Giant, so great and\ncruel and horrible that he feared no man in the world, and for a long\ntime had he not been sought out by any knight, for none durst won in\nthat quarter.  And the pass of the mountain whereby he went to his hold\nwas so strait that no horse might get through; wherefore behoveth\nMessire Gawain leave his horse and his shield and spear and to pass\nbeyond the mountain by sheer force, for the way was like a cut between\nsharp rocks.  He is come to level ground and looketh before him and\nseeth a hold that the Giant had on the top of a rock, and espieth the\nGiant and the lad where they were sitting on the level ground under a\ntree.  Messire Gawain was armed and had his sword girt on, and goeth\nhis way thitherward. And the Giant seeth him coming and leapeth up and\ntaketh in hand a great axe that was at his side, and cometh toward\nMessire Gawain all girded for the fight and thinketh to smite him a\ntwo-handed stroke right amidst the head.  But Messire Gawain swerveth\naside and bestirreth him with his sword and dealeth him a blow such\nthat he cut off his arm, axe and all.  And the Giant returneth backward\nwhen he feeleth himself wounded, and taketh the King's son by the neck\nwith his other hand and grippeth him so straitly that he strangleth and\nslayeth him.  Then he cometh back to Messire Gawain and falleth upon\nhim and grippeth him sore strait by the flanks, and lifteth him three\nfoot high off the ground and thinketh to carry him to his hold that was\nwithin the rock.  And as he goeth thither he falleth, Messire Gawain\nand all, and he lieth undermost.  Howbeit, he thinketh to rise, but\ncannot, for Messire Gawain sendeth him his sword right through his\nheart and beyond.  Afterward, he cut off the head and cometh there\nwhere the King's child lay dead, whereof is he right sorrowful.  And he\nbeareth him on his neck, and taketh the Giant's head in his hand and\nreturneth there where he had left his horse and shield and spear, and\nmounteth and cometh back and bringeth the King's son before the King\nand the head of the Giant hanging.\n\n\nVI.\n\nThe King and all they of the castle come to meet him with right great\njoy, but when they see the young man dead, their great joy is turned\ninto right great dole thereby.  And Messire Gawain alighteth before the\ncastle and presenteth to the King his son and the head of the Giant.\n\n\"Certes,\" said he, \"might I have presented him to you on live, much\nmore joyful should I have been thereof.\"\n\n\"This believe I well,\" saith the King, \"Howbeit, of so much as you have\ndone am I well pleased, and your guerdon shall you have.\"\n\nAnd he looketh at his son and lamenteth him right sweetly, and all they\nof the castle after him.  Thereafter he maketh light a great show of\ntorches in the midst of the city, and causeth a great fire to be made,\nand his son be set thereon in a brazen vessel all full of water, and\nmaketh him be cooked and sodden over this fire, and maketh the Giant's\nhead be hanged at the gate.\n\n\nVII.\n\nWhen his son was well cooked, he maketh him be cut up as small as he\nmay, and biddeth send for all the high men of his land and giveth\nthereof to each so long as there was any left.  After that he maketh\nbring the sword and giveth it to Messire Gawain, and Messire Gawain\nthanketh him much thereof.\n\n\"More yet will I do for you,\" saith the King.  He biddeth send for all\nthe men of his land to come to his hall and castle.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"I am fain to baptize me.\"\n\n\"God be praised thereof,\" saith Messire Gawain.  The King biddeth send\nfor a hermit of the forest, and maketh himself be baptized, and he had\nthe name of Archis in right baptism; and of all them that were not\nwilling to believe in God, he commanded Messire Gawain that he should\ncut off their heads.\n\n\nVIII.\n\nIn such wise was this King baptized that was the lord of Albanie, by\nthe miracle of God and the knighthood of Messire Gawain, that departeth\nfrom the castle with right great joy and rideth until he has come into\nthe land of the King of Wales and bethought him he would go fulfil his\npledge.  He alighted before the hall, and the King made right great\ncheer when he saw him come.  And Messire Gawain hath told him: \"I come\nto redeem my pledge. Behold, here is the sword.\"\n\nAnd the King taketh it in his hand and looketh thereon right fainly,\nand afterward maketh great joy thereof and setteth it in his treasury\nand saith: \"Now have I done my desire.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Then have you betrayed me.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the King, \"That have I not, for I am of the lineage\nof him that beheaded S. John, wherefore have I better right to it than\nyou.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" say the knights to the King, \"Right loyal and courteous knight\nis Messire Gawain, wherefore yield him that which he hath conquered,\nfor sore blame will you have of evil-treating him.\"\n\n\"I will yield it,\" saith the King \"on such condition that the first\ndamsel that maketh request of him, what thing soever she may require\nand whatsoever it be shall not be denied of him.\"\n\nAnd Messire Gawain agreeth thereto, and of this agreement thereafter\ndid he suffer much shame and anguish and was blamed of many knights.\nAnd the King yielded him the Sword.  He lay the night therewithin, and\non the morrow so soon as he might, he departed and rode until he came\nwithout the city where the burgess gave him the horse in exchange for\nhis own.  And he remembered him of his covenant, and abideth a long\nspace and leaneth him on the hilt of his sword until the burgess\ncometh. Therewithal made they great joy the one of the other, and\nMessire showeth him the sword, and the burgess taketh it and smiteth\nhis horse with his spurs and goeth a great gallop toward the city. And\nMessire Gawain goeth after a great pace and crieth out that he doth\ngreat treachery.\n\n\"Come not after me into the city,\" saith the burgess, \"for the folk\nhave a commune.\"\n\nHowbeit, he followeth after into the city for that he might not\novertake him before, and therein he meeteth a great procession of\npriests and clerks that bore crosses and censers.  And Messire Gawain\nalighteth on account of the procession, and seeth the burgess that hath\ngone into the church and the procession after.\n\n\"Lords,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Make yield me the sword whereof this\nburgess that hath entered your church hath plundered me.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" say the priests, \"Well know we that it is the sword wherewith S.\nJohn was beheaded, wherefore the burgess hath brought it to us to set\nwith our hallows in yonder, and saith that it was given him.\"\n\n\"Ha, lords!\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Not so!  I have but shown it to him\nto fulfil my pledge.  And he hath carried it off by treachery.\"\n\nAfterward he telleth them as it had befallen him, and the priests make\nthe burgess give it up, and with great joy Messire Gawain departeth and\nremounteth his horse and issueth forth of the city. He hath scarce gone\nfar before he meeteth a knight that came all armed, as fast as his\nhorse could carry him, spear in rest.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he to Messire Gawain, \"I have come to help you.  We were\ntold that you had been evil-entreated in the city, and I am of the\ncastle that succoureth all strange knights that pass hereby whensoever\nthey have need thereof.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Blessed be the castle!  I plain me not of\nthe trespass for that right hath been done me.  And how is the castle\nnamed?\"\n\n\"Sir, they call it the Castle of the Ball.  Will you return back\nthither with me, since you are delivered, and lodge there the night\nwith Messire, that is a right worshipful man, and of good conditions?\"\n\nTherewith they go together to the castle, that was right fair and\nwell-seeming.  They enter in, and when they were within, the Lord, that\nsate on a mounting-stage of marble, had two right fair daughters, and\nhe made them play before him with a ball of gold, and looked at them\nright fainly.  He seeth Messire Gawain alight and cometh to meet him\nand maketh him great cheer.  Afterward, he biddeth his two daughters\nlead him into the hall.\n\n\nIX.\n\nWhen he was disarmed, the one brought him a right rich robe, and after\nmeat the two maidens sit beside him and make him right great cheer.\nThereupon behold you, a dwarf that issueth forth of a chamber, and he\nholdeth a scourge.  And he cometh to the damsels and smiteth them over\ntheir faces and their heads.\n\n\"Rise up,\" saith he, \"ye fools, ill-taught!  Ye make cheer unto him\nwhom you ought to hate!  For this is Messire Gawain, King Arthur's\nnephew, by whom was your uncle slain!\"\n\nThereupon they rise, all ashamed, and go into the chamber, and Messire\nGawain remaineth there sore abashed.  But their father comforteth him\nand saith: \"Sir, be not troubled for aught that he saith, for the dwarf\nis our master: he chastiseth and teacheth my daughters, and he is wroth\nfor that you have slain his brother, whom you slew the day that Marin\nslew his wife on your account, whereof we are right sorrowful in this\ncastle.\"\n\n\"So also am I,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"But no blame of her death have I\nnor she, as God knoweth of very truth.\"\n\n\nX.\n\nMessire Gawain lay the night at the castle, and departed on the morrow,\nand rode on his journeys until he cometh to the castle at the entrance\nto the land of the rich King Fisherman, where he seeth that the lion is\nnot at the entrance nor were the serjeants of copper shooting.  And he\nseeth in great procession the priests and them of the castle coming to\nmeet him, and he alighteth, and a squire was apparelled ready, that\ntook his armour and his horse, and he showeth the sword to them that\nwere come to meet him.  It was the hour of noon.  He draweth the sword,\nand seeth it all bloody, and they bow down and worship it, and sing 'Te\nDeum laudamus'.  With such joy was Messire Gawain received at the\ncastle, and he set the sword back in his scabbard, and kept it right\nanigh him, and made it not known in all the places where he lodged that\nit was such.  The priests and knights of the castle make right great\njoy, and pray him right instantly that so God should lead him to the\ncastle of King Fisherman, and the Graal should appear before him, he\nwould not be so forgetful as the other knights.  And he made answer\nthat he would do that which God should teach him.\n\n\nXI.\n\n\"Messire Gawain,\" saith the master of the priests, that was right\nancient: \"Great need have you to take rest, for meseemeth you have had\nmuch travail.\"\n\n\"Sir, many things have I seen whereof I am sore abashed, nor know I\nwhat castle this may be.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the priest, \"This Castle is the Castle of Inquest, for\nnought you shall ask whereof it shall not tell you the meaning, by the\nwitness of Joseph, the good clerk and good hermit through whom we have\nit, and he knoweth it by annunciation of the Holy Ghost.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"I am much abashed of the three\ndamsels that were at the court of King Arthur.  Two of them carried,\nthe one the head of a king and the other of a queen, and they had in a\ncar an hundred and fifty heads of knights whereof some were sealed in\ngold, other in silver, and the rest in lead.\"\n\n\"True,\" saith the priest, \"For as by the queen was the king betrayed\nand killed, and the knights whereof the heads were in the car, so saith\nshe truth as Joseph witnesseth to us, for he saith of remembrance that\nby envy was Adam betrayed, and all the people that were after him and\nthe people that are yet to come shall have dole thereof for ever more.\nAnd for that Adam was the first man is he called King, for he was our\nearthly father, and his wife Queen.  And the heads of the knights\nsealed in gold signify the new law, and the heads sealed in silver the\nold, and the heads sealed in lead the false law of the Sarrazins.  Of\nthese three manner of folk is the world stablished.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"I marvel of the castle of the Black\nHermit, there where the heads were all taken from her, and the Damsel\ntold me that the Good Knight should cast them all forth when he should\ncome.  And the other folk that are therewithin are longing for him.\"\n\n\"Well know you,\" saith the priest, \"that on account of the apple that\nEve gave Adam to eat, all went to hell alike, the good as well as the\nevil, and to cast His people forth from hell did God become man, and\ncast these souls forth from hell of His bounty and of His puissance.\nAnd to this doth Joseph make us allusion by the castle or the Black\nHermit which signifieth hell, and the Good Knight that shall thence\ncast forth them that are within. And I tell you that the Black Hermit\nis Lucifer, that is Lord of hell in like manner as he fain would have\nbeen Lord of Paradise.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the priest, \"By this significance is he fain to draw the\ngood hermits on behalt of the new law wherein the most part are not\nwell learned, wherefore he would fain make allusion by ensample.\"\n\n\"By God,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"I marvel much of the Damsel that was\nall bald, and said that never should she have her hair again until such\ntime as the Good Knight should have achieved the Holy Graal.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the good man, \"Each day full bald behoveth her to be, ever\nsince bald she became when the good King fell into languishment on\naccount of the knight whom he harboured that made not the demand.  The\nbald damsel signifieth Joseu Josephus, that was bald before the\ncrucifixion of Our Lord, nor never had his hair again until such time\nas He had redeemed His people by His blood and by His death.  The car\nthat she leadeth after her signifieth the wheel of fortune, for like as\nthe car goeth on the wheels, doth she lay the burden of the world on\nthe two damsels that follow her; and this you may see well, for the\nfairest followeth afoot and the other was on a sorry hackney, and they\nwere poorly clad, whereas the third had costlier attire.  The shield\nwhereon was the red cross, that she left at the court of King Arthur,\nsignifieth the most holy shield of the rood that never none durst lift\nsave God alone.\"\n\nMessire Gawain heareth these significances and much pleaseth him\nthereof, and thinketh him that none durst set his hand to nor lift the\nshield that hung in the King's hall, as he had heard tell in many\nplaces; wherefore day by day were they waiting for the Good Knight that\nshould come for the shield.\n\n\nXII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"By this that you tell me you do me to wit\nthat whereof I was abashed, but I have been right sorrowful of a lady\nthat a knight slew on my account albeit no blame had she therein, nor\nhad I.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the priest, \"Right great significance was there in her\ndeath, for Josephus witnesseth us that the old law was destroyed by the\nstroke of a sword without recover, and to destroy the old law did Our\nLord suffer Himself to be smitten in the side of a spear.  By this\nstroke was the old law destroyed, and by His crucifixion.  The lady\nsignifieth the old law.  Would you ask more of me?\" saith the priest.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"I met a knight in the forest that rode\nbehind before and carried his arms upside down.  And he said that he\nwas the Knight Coward, and his habergeon carried he on his neck, and so\nsoon as he saw me he set his arms to rights and rode like any other\nknight.\"\n\n\"The law was turned to the worse,\" saith the priest, \"before Our Lord's\ncrucifixion, and so soon as He was crucified, was again restored to\nright.\"\n\n\"Even yet have I not asked you of all,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"For a\nknight came and jousted with me party of black and white, and\nchallenged me of the death of the lady on behalf of her husband, and\ntold me and I should vanquish him that he and his men would be my men.\nI did vanquish him and he did me homage.\"\n\n\"It is right,\" saith the priest, \"On account of the old law that was\ndestroyed were all they that remained therein made subject, and shall\nbe for ever more.  Wish you to enquire of aught further?\" saith the\npriest.\n\n\"I marvel me right sore,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"of a child that rode a\nlion in a hermitage, and none durst come nigh the lion save the child\nonly, and he was not of more than six years, and the lion was right\nfell.  The child was the son of the lady that was slain on my account.\"\n\n\"Right well have you spoken,\" saith the priest, \"in reminding me\nthereof.  The child signifieth the Saviour of the world that was born\nunder the old law and was circumcised, and the lion whereon he rode\nsignifieth the world and the people that are therein, and beasts and\nbirds that none may govern save by virtue of Him alone.\"\n\n\"God!\" saith Messire Gawain, \"How great joy have I at heart of that you\ntell me!  Sir, I found a fountain in a forest, the fairest that was\never seen, and an image had it within that hid itself when it saw me,\nand a clerk brought a golden vessel and took another golden vessel that\nhung at the column that was there, and set his own in place thereof.\nAfterward, came three damsels and filled the vessel with that they had\nbrought thither, and straightway meseemed that but one was there.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the priest, \"I will tell you no more thereof than you have\nheard, and therewithal ought you to hold yourself well apaid, for\nbehoveth not discover the secrets of the Saviour, and them also to whom\nthey are committed behoveth keep them covertly.\"\n\n\nXIII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"I would fain ask you of a King. When I\nhad brought him his son back dead, he made him be cooked and thereafter\nmade him be eaten of all the folk of his land.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the priest, \"Already had he leant his heart upon Jesus\nChrist, and would fain make sacrifice of his flesh and blood to Our\nLord, and for this did he make all those of his land eat thereof, and\nwould fain that their thoughts should be even such as his own.  And\ntherefore was all evil belief uprooted from his land, so that none\nremained therein.\"\n\n\"Blessed be the hour,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"that I came herewithin!\"\n\n\"Mine be it!\" saith the priest.\n\nMessire Gawain lay therewithin the night, and right well lodged was he.\nThe morrow, when he had heard mass, he departed and went forth of the\ncastle when he had taken leave.  And he findeth the fairest land of the\nworld and the fairest meadow-grounds that were ever seen, and the\nfairest rivers and forests garnished of wild deer and hermitages.  And\nhe rideth until he cometh one day as evening was about to draw on, to\nthe house of a hermit, and the house was so low that his horse might\nnot enter therein.  And his chapel was scarce taller, and the good man\nhad never issued therefrom of forty years past.  The Hermit putteth his\nhead out of the window when he seeth Messire Gawain and saith, \"Sir,\nwelcome may you be,\" saith he.\n\n\"Sir, God give you joy, Will you give me lodging to-night?\" saith\nMessire Gawain.\n\n\"Sir, herewithin none harboureth save the Lord God alone, for earthly\nman hath never entered herewithin but me this forty year, but see, here\nin front is the castle wherein the good knights are lodged.\"\n\n\"What is the castle?\"\n\n\"Sir, the good King Fisherman's, that is surrounded with great waters\nand plenteous in all things good, so the lord were in joy. But behoveth\nthem harbour none there save good knights only.\"\n\n\"God grant,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"that I may come therein.\"\n\n\nXIV.\n\nWhen he knoweth that he is nigh the castle, he alighteth and confesseth\nhim to the hermit, and avoweth all his sins and repenteth him thereof\nright truly.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"Now forget not, so God be willing to allow\nyou, to ask that which the other knight forgat, and be not afeard for\nought you may see at the entrance of the castle, but ride on without\nmisgiving and adore the holy chapel you will see appear in the castle,\nthere where the flame of the Holy Spirit descendeth each day for the\nmost Holy Graal and the point of the lance that is served there.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"God teach me to do His will!\"\n\nHe taketh leave, and goeth his way and rideth until the valley\nappeareth wherein the castle is seated garnished of all things good,\nand he seeth appear the most holy chapel.  He alighteth, and then\nsetteth him on his knees and boweth him down and adoreth right sweetly.\nThereafter he remounteth and rideth until he findeth a sepulchre right\nrich, and it had a cover over, and it lay very nigh the castle, and it\nseemed to be within a little burial-ground that was enclosed all round\nabout, nor were any other tombs therein.  A voice crieth to him as he\npasseth the burial-ground: \"Touch not the sepulchre, for you are not\nthe Good Knight through whom shall it be known who lieth therein.\"\n\nMessire Gawain passeth beyond when he had heard the voice and draweth\nnigh the entrance of the castle, and seeth that three bridges are\nthere, right great and right horrible to pass. And three great waters\nrun below, and him seemeth that the first bridge is a bowshot in length\nand in breadth not more than a foot.  Strait seemeth the bridge and the\nwater deep and swift and wide.  He knoweth not what he may do, for it\nseemeth him that none may pass it, neither afoot nor on horse.\n\n\nXV.\n\nThereupon, lo you, a knight that issueth forth of the castle and cometh\nas far as the head of the bridge, that was called the Bridge of the\nEel, and shouteth aloud: \"Sir Knight, pass quickly before it shall be\nalready night, for they of the castle are awaiting us.\"\n\n\"Ha,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Fair sir, but teach me how I may pass\nhereby.\"\n\n\"Certes, Sir Knight, no passage know I to this entrance other than\nthis, and if you desire to come to the castle, pass on without\nmisgiving.\"\n\nMessire Gawain hath shame for that he hath stayed so long, and\nforthinketh him of this that the Hermit told him, that of no mortal\nthing need he be troubled at the entrance of the castle, and\ntherewithal that he is truly confessed of his sins, wherefore behoveth\nhim be the less adread of death.  He crosseth and blesseth himself and\ncommendeth himself to God as he that thinketh to die, and so smiteth\nhis horse with his spurs and findeth the bridge wide and large as soon\nas he goeth forward, for by this passing were proven most of the\nknights that were fain to enter therein.  Much marvelled he that he\nfound the bridge so wide that had seemed him so narrow.  And when he\nhad passed beyond, the bridge, that was a drawbridge, lifted itself by\nengine behind him, for the water below ran too swiftly for other bridge\nto be made.  The knight draweth himself back beyond the great bridge\nand Messire Gawain cometh nigh to pass it, and this seemed him as long\nas the other.  And he seeth the water below, that was not less swift\nnor less deep, and, so far as he could judge, the bridge was of ice,\nfeeble and thin, and of a great height above the water, and he looked\nat it with much marvelling, yet natheless not for that would he any the\nmore hold back from passing on toward the entrance.  He goeth forward\nand commendeth himself to God, and cometh in the midst thereof and\nseeth that the bridge was the fairest and richest and strongest he had\never beheld, and the abutments thereof were all full of images.  When\nhe was beyond the bridge, it lifted itself up behind him as the other\nhad done, and he looketh before him and seeth not the knight, and is\ncome to the third bridge and nought was he adread for anything he might\nsee.  And it was not less rich than the other, and had columns of\nmarble all round about, and upon each a knop so rich that it seemed to\nbe of gold.  After that, he beholdeth the gate over against him, and\nseeth Our Lord there figured even as He was set upon the rood, and His\nMother of the one side and S. John of the other, whereof the images\nwere all of gold, with rich precious stones that flashed like fire. And\non the right hand he seeth an angel, passing fair, that pointed with\nhis finger to the chapel where was the Holy Graal, and on his breast\nhad he a precious stone, and letters written above his head that told\nhow the lord of the castle was the like pure and clean of all\nevil-seeming as was this stone.\n\n\nXVI.\n\nThereafter at the entrance of the gate he seeth a lion right great and\nhorrible, and he was upright upon his feet.  So soon as he seeth\nMessire Gawain, he croucheth to the ground, and Messire Gawain passeth\nthe entrance without gainsay and cometh to the castle, and alighteth\nafoot, and setteth his shield and his spear against the wall of the\nhall, and mounteth up a flight of marble steps and cometh into a hall\nright fair and rich, and here and there in divers places was it painted\nwith golden images.  In the midst thereof he findeth a couch right fair\nand rich and high, and at the foot of this couch was a chess-board\nright fair and rich, with an orle of gold all full of precious stones,\nand the pieces were of gold and silver and were not upon the board.\nMeanwhile, as Messire Gawain was looking at the beauty of the\nchess-board and the hall, behold you two knights that issue forth of a\nchamber and come to him.\n\n\"Sir,\" say the knights, \"Welcome may you be.\"\n\n\"God give you joy and good adventure,\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\nThey make him sit upon the couch and after that make him be disarmed.\nThey bring him, in two basins of gold, water to wash his face and\nhands.  After that, come two damsels that bring him a rich robe of silk\nand cloth of gold.  Then they make him do on the same.  Then say the\ntwo damsels to him, \"Take in good part whatsoever may be done to you\ntherewithin, for this is the hostel of good knights and loyal.\"\n\n\"Damsels,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"So will I do. Gramercy of your\nservice.\"\n\nHe seeth well that albeit the night were dark, within was so great\nbrightness of light without candles that it was marvel. And it seemed\nhim the sun shone there.  Wherefore marvelled he right sore whence so\ngreat light should come.\n\n\nXVII.\n\nWhen Messire Gawain was clad in the rich robe, right comely was he to\nbehold, and well seemed he to be a knight of great valour. \"Sir,\" say\nthe knights, \"May it please you come see the lord of this castle?\"\n\n\"Right gladly will I see him,\" saith he, \"For I would fain present him\nwith a rich sword.\"\n\nThey lead him into the chamber where lay King Fisherman, and it seemed\nas it were all strown and sprinkled of balm, and it was all strown with\ngreen herbs and reeds.  And King Fisherman lay on a bed hung on cords\nwhereof the stavs were of ivory; and therein was a mattress of straw\nwhereon he lay, and above a coverlid of sables whereof the cloth was\nright rich.  And he had a cap of sables on his head covered with a red\nsamite of silk, and a golden cross, and under his head was a pillow all\nsmelling sweet of balm, and at the four corners of the pillow were four\nstones that gave out a right great brightness of light; and over\nagainst him was a pillar of copper whereon sate an eagle that held a\ncross of gold wherein was a piece of the true cross whereon God was\nset, as long as was the cross itself; the which the good man adored.\nAnd in four tall candle sticks of gold were four tall wax tapers set as\noften as was need.  Messire Gawain cometh before the King and saluteth\nhim.  And the King maketh him right great cheer, and biddeth him be\nwelcome.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"I present you with the sword whereof John\nwas beheaded.\"\n\n\"Gramercy.\" saith the King: \"Certes, I knew well that you would bring\nit, for neither you nor other might have come in hither without the\nsword, and if you had not been of great valour you would not have\nconquered it.\"\n\nHe taketh the sword and setteth it to his mouth and so kisseth it right\nsweetly and maketh right great joy thereof.  And a damsel cometh to sit\nat the head of the bed, to whom he giveth the sword in keeping.  Two\nothers sit at his feet that look at him right sweetly.\n\n\"What is your name?\" saith the King.\n\n\"Sir, my name is Gawain.\"\n\n\"Ha, Messire Gawain,\" saith he, \"This brightness of light that shineth\nthere within cometh to us of God for love of you.  For every time that\na knight cometh hither to harbour within this castle it appeareth as\nbrightly as you see it now.  And greater cheer would I make you than I\ndo were I able to help myself, but I am fallen into languishment from\nthe hour that the knight of whom you have heard tell harboured\nherewithin.  On account of one single word he delayed to speak, did\nthis languishment come upon me.  Wherefore I pray you for God's sake\nthat you remember to speak it, for right glad should you be and you may\nrestore me my health.  And see here is the daughter of my sister that\nhath been plundered of her land and disinherited in such wise that\nnever can she have it again save through her brother only whom she\ngoeth to seek; and we have been told that he is the Best Knight of the\nworld, but we can learn no true tidings of him.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel to her uncle the King, \"Thank Messire Gawain of\nthe honour he did to my lady-mother when he came to her hostel.  He\nstablished our land again in peace, and conquered the keeping of the\ncastle for a year, and set my lady-mother's five knights there with us\nto keep it.  The year hath now passed, wherefore will the war be now\nrenewed against us and God succour us not, and I find not my brother\nwhom we have lost so long.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"I helped you so far as I might, and so\nwould I again and I were there.  And fainer am I to see your brother\nthan all the knights of the world.  But no true tidings may I hear of\nhim, save so much, that I was at a hermitage where was a King hermit\nand he bade me make no noise for that the Best Knight of the world lay\nsick therewithin, and he told me that name was Par-lui-fet.  I saw his\nhorse being led by a squire before the chapel, and his arms and shield\nwhereon was a sun figured.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"My brother's name is not Par-lui-fet, but\nPerlesvax in right baptism, and it is said of them that have seen him\nthat never comelier knight was known.\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith the King, \"Never saw I comelier than he that came in\nhither nor better like to be good knight, and I know of a truth that\nsuch he is, for otherwise never might he have entered hereinto.  But\ngood reward of harbouring him had I not, for I may help neither myself\nnor other.  For God's sake, Messire Gawain, hold me in remembrance this\nnight, for great affiance have I in your valour.\"\n\n\"Certes, Sir, please God, nought will I do within yonder, whereof I may\nbe blamed of right.\"\n\n\nXVIII.\n\nThereupon Messire Gawain was led into the hall and findeth twelve\nancient knights, all bald, albeit they seemed not to be so old as they\nwere, for each was of a hundred year of age or more and yet none of\nthem seemed as though he were forty.  They have set Messire Gawain to\neat at a right rich table of ivory and seat themselves all round about\nhim.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Master of the Knights, \"Remember you of that the good\nKing hath prayed of you and told you this night as you have heard.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"God remember it!\"\n\nWith that bring they larded meats of venison and wild-boar's flesh and\nother in great plenty, and on the table was rich array of vessels of\nsilver and great cups of gold with their covers, and the rich\ncandlesticks where the great candles were burning, albeit their\nbrightness was hidden of the great light that appeared within.\n\n\nXIX.\n\nThereon, lo you, two damsels that issue forth of a chapel, whereof the\none holdeth in her hands the most Holy Graal, and the other the Lance\nwhereof the point bleedeth thereinto.  And the one goeth beside the\nother in the midst of the hall where the knights and Messire Gawain sat\nat meat, and so sweet a smell and so holy came to them therefrom that\nthey forgat to eat.  Messire Gawain looketh at the Graal, and it seemed\nhim that a chalice was therein, albeit none there was as at this time,\nand he seeth the point of the lance whence the red blood ran thereinto,\nand it seemeth him he seeth two angels that bear two candlesticks of\ngold filled with candles.  And the damsels pass before Messire Gawain,\nand go into another chapel.  And Messire Gawain is thoughtful, and so\ngreat a joy cometh to him that nought remembereth he in his thinking\nsave of God only.  The knights are all daunted and sorrowful in their\nhearts, and look at Messire Gawain.  Thereupon behold you the damsels\nthat issue forth of the chamber and come again before Messire Gawain,\nand him seemeth that he seeth three there where before he had seen but\ntwo, and seemeth him that in the midst of the Graal he seeth the figure\nof a child.  The Master of the Knights beckoneth to Messire Gawain.\nMessire Gawain looketh before him and seeth three drops of blood fall\nupon the table.  He was all abashed to look at them and spake no word.\n\n\nXX.\n\nTherewith the damsels pass forth and the knights are all adread and\nlook one at the other.  Howbeit Messire Gawain may not withdraw his\neyes from the three drops of blood, and when he would fain kiss them\nthey vanish away, whereof he is right sorrowful, for he may not set his\nhand nor aught that of him is to touch thereof.  Therewithal behold you\nthe two damsels that come again before the table and seemeth to Messire\nGawain that there are three, and he looketh up and it seemeth him to be\nthe Graal all in flesh, grid he seeth above, as him thinketh, a King\ncrowned, nailed upon a rood, and the spear was still fast in his side.\nMessire Gawain seeth it and hath great pity thereof, and of nought doth\nhe remember him save of the pain that this King suffereth.  And the\nMaster of the Knights summoneth him again by word of mouth, and telleth\nhim that if he delayeth longer, never more will he recover it.  Messire\nGawain is silent, as he that heareth not the knight speak, and looketh\nupward.  But the damsels go back into the chapel and carry back the\nmost Holy Graal and the Lance, and the knights make the tablecloths be\ntaken away and rise from meat and go into another hall and leave\nMessire Gawain all alone.  And he looketh all around and seeth the\ndoors all shut and made fast, and looketh to the foot of the hall and\nseeth two candlesticks with many candles burning round about the\nchessboard, and he seeth that the pieces are set, whereof the one sort\nare silver and the other gold.  Messire Gawain sitteth at the game, and\nthey of gold played against him and mated him twice.  At the third\ntime, when he thought to revenge himself and saw that he had the worse,\nhe swept the pieces off the board.  And the damsel issued forth of a\nchamber and made a squire take the chess-board and the pieces and so\ncarry them away.  And Messire Gawain, that was way-worn of his\nwanderings to come thither where he now hath come, slept upon the couch\nuntil the morrow when it was day, and he heard a horn sound right\nshrill.\n\n\nXXI.\n\nThereupon he armeth him and would fain go to take leave of King\nFisherman, but he findeth the doors bolted so that he may not get\nforth.  And right fair service seeth he done in a chapel, and right\nsorrowful is he for that he may not hear the mass.  A damsel cometh\ninto the hall and saith to him: \"Sir, now may you hear the service and\nthe joy that is made on account of the sword you presented to the good\nKing, and right glad at heart ought you to have been if you had been\nwithin the chapel.  But you lost entering therein on account of a right\nlittle word.  For the place of the chapel is so hallowed of the holy\nrelics that are therein that man nor priest may never enter therein\nfrom the Saturday at noon until the Monday after mass.\"\n\nAnd he heard the sweetest voices and the fairest services that were\never done in chapel.  Messire Gawain answereth her not a word so is he\nabashed.  Howbeit the damsel saith to him: \"Sir, God be guardian of\nyour body, for methinketh that it was not of your own default that you\nwould not speak the word whereof this castle would have been in joy.\"\n\nWith that the damsel departeth and Messire Gawain heareth the horn\nsound a second time and a voice warning him aloud: \"He that is from\nwithout, let him go hence!  for the bridges are lowered and the gate\nopen, and the lion is in his den.  And thereafter behoveth the bridge\nbe lifted again on account of the King of the Castle Mortal, that\nwarreth against this castle, and therefore of this thing shall he die.\"\n\n\nXXII.\n\nThereupon Messire Gawain issueth forth of the hall and findeth his\nhorse all made ready at the mounting-stage, together with his arms.  He\ngoeth forth and findeth the bridges broad and long, and goeth his way a\ngreat pace beside a great river that runneth in the midst of the\nvalley.  And he seeth in a great forest a mighty rain and tempest, and\nso strong a thunderstorm ariseth in the forest that it seemeth like all\nthe trees should be uprooted.  So great is the rain and the tempest\nthat it compelleth him set his shield over his horse's head lest he be\ndrowned of the abundance of rain.  In this mis-ease rideth he down\nbeside the river that runneth in the forest until he seeth in a launde\nacross the river a knight and a damsel right gaily appointed riding at\npleasure, and the knight carrieth a bird on his fist, and the damsel\nhath a garland of flowers on her head.  Two brachets follow the knight.\nThe sun shineth right fair on the meadow and the air is right clear and\nfresh.  Messire Gawain marvelleth much of this, that it raineth so\nheavily on his way, whereas, in the meadow where the knight and the\ndamsel are riding, the sun shineth clear and the weather is bright and\ncalm.  And he seeth them ride joyously.  He can ask them naught for\nthey are too far away.  Messire Gawain looketh about and seeth on the\nother side the river a squire nearer to him than is the knight.\n\n\"Fair friend\" saith Messire Gawain, \"How is this that it raineth upon\nme on this side the river, but on the other raineth it not at all?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the squire, \"This have you deserved, for such is the\ncustom of the forest.\"\n\n\"Will this tempest that is over me last for ever?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"At the first bridge you come to will it be stayed upon you,\" saith the\nsquire.\n\n\nXXIII.\n\nTherewith the squire departeth, and the tempest rageth incontinent\nuntil he is come to the bridge; and he rideth beyond and cometh to the\nmeadow, and the storm is stayed so that he setteth his shield to rights\nagain upon his neck.  And he seeth before him a castle where was a\ngreat company of folk that were making great cheer.  He rideth until he\ncometh to the castle and seeth right great throng of folk, knights and\ndames and damsels. Messire Gawain alighteth, but findeth in the castle\nnone that is willing to take his reins, so busied are they making\nmerry. Messire Gawain presenteth himself on the one side and the other,\nbut all of them avoid him, and he seeth that he maketh but an ill stay\ntherewithin for himself, wherefore he departeth from the castle and\nmeeteth a knight at the gate.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"What castle is this?\"\n\n\"And see you not,\" saith the knight, \"that it is a castle of joy?\"\n\n\"By my faith\" saith Messire Gawain, \"They of the castle be not\nover-courteous, for all this time hath none come to take my reins.\"\n\n\"Not for this lose they their courtesy,\" saith the knight, \"For this is\nno more than you have deserved.  They take you to be as slothful of\ndeed as you are of word, and they saw that you were come through the\nForest Perilous whereby pass all the discomfited, as well appeareth by\nyour arms and your horse.\"\n\nTherewith the knight departeth, and Messire Gawain hath ridden a great\nspace sorrowful and sore abashed, until he cometh to a land parched and\npoor and barren of all comfort, and therein findeth he a poor castle,\nwhereinto he cometh and seeth it much wasted, but that within was there\na hall that seemed haunted of folk. And Messire Gawain cometh\nthitherward and alighteth, and a knight cometh down the steps of the\nhall right poorly clad.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight to Messire Gawain, \"Welcome may you be!\"\n\nAfter that, he taketh him by the hand and leadeth him upward to the\nhall, that was all waste.  Therewithal issue two damsels from a\nchamber, right poorly clad, that were of passing great beauty, and make\ngreat cheer to Messire Gawain.  So, when he was fain to disarm, behold\nyou thereupon a knight that entereth into the hall, and he was smitten\nwith the broken end of a lance through his body.  He seeth Messire\nGawain, whom he knoweth.\n\n\"Now haste!\" saith he, \"and disarm you not!  Right joyful am I that I\nhave found you! I come from this forest wherein have I left Lancelot\nfighting with four knights, whereof one is dead, and they think that it\nis you, and they are of kindred to the knight that you slew at the tent\nwhere you destroyed the evil custom.  I was fain to help Lancelot, when\none of the knights smote me as you may see.\"\n\nMessire Gawain goeth down from the hall and mounteth all armed upon his\nhorse.\n\n\nXXIV.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight of the hall, \"I would go help you to my power,\nbut I may not issue forth of the castle until such time as it be\nreplenished of the folk that are wont to come therein and until my land\nbe again given up to me through the valour of the Good Knight.\"\n\nMessire Gawain departeth from the castle as fast as horse may carry\nhim, and entereth the forest and followeth the track of the blood along\nthe way the knight had come, and rideth so far in the forest as that he\nheareth the noise of swords, and seeth in the midst of the launde\nLancelot and the three knights, and the fourth dead on the ground.  But\none of the knights had drawn him aback, for he might abide the combat\nno longer, for the knight that brought the tidings to Messire Gawain\nhad sore wounded him. The two knights beset Lancelot full sore, and\nright weary was he of the buffets that he had given and received.\nMessire Gawain cometh to one of the knights and smiteth him right\nthrough the body and maketh him and his horse roll over all of a heap.\n\n\nXXV.\n\nWhen Lancelot perceiveth Messire Gawain, much joy maketh he thereof.\nIn the meanwhile as the one held the other, the fourth knight fled full\nspeed through the midst of the forest, and he that the knight had\nwounded fell dead.  They take their horses, and Messire Gawain telleth\nLancelot he hath the most poverty-stricken host that ever he hath seen,\nand the fairest damsels known, but that right poorly are they clad.\n\"Shall we therefore take them of our booty?\"\n\n\"I agree,\" saith Lancelot, \"But sore grieveth me of the knight that\nhath thus escaped us.\"\n\n\"Take no heed,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"We shall do well enough herein.\"\n\nThereupon they return back toward the poor knight's hostel and alight\nbefore the hall, and the Poor Knight cometh to meet them, and the two\ndamsels, and they deliver to them the three horses of the three knights\nthat were dead.  The knight hath great joy thereof, and telleth them\nthat now is he a rich man and that betimes will his sisters be better\nclad than are they now, as well as himself.\n\n\nXXVI.\n\nThereupon come they into the hall.  The knight maketh one of his own\nsquires stable the horses and the two damsels help disarm Lancelot and\nMessire Gawain.\n\n\"Lords,\" saith the knight, \"So God help me, nought have I to lend you\nwherewith to clothe you, for robe have I none save mine own jerkin.\"\n\nLancelot hath great pity thereof and Messire Gawain, and the two\ndamsels take off their kirtles that were made like surcoats of cloth\nthat covered their poor shirts, and their jackets that, were all\nto-torn and ragged and worn, and present them to the knights to clothe\nthem.  They were fain not to refuse, lest the damsels should think they\nheld them not in honour, and did on the two kirtles right poor as they\nwere.  The damsels had great joy thereof that so good knights should\ndeign wear garments so poor.\n\n\"Lords,\" saith the Poor Knight, \"The knight that brought the tidings\nhither, and was stricken through of a lance-shaft, is dead and lieth on\na bier in a chapel within the castle, and he confessed himself right\nwell to a hermit and bade salute you both, and was right fain you\nshould see him after that he were dead, and he prayed me instantly that\nI would ask you to be to-morrow at his burial, for better knights than\nbe ye might not be thereat, so he told me.\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith Lancelot, \"A good knight was he, and much mischief is\nit of his death; and sore grieveth me that I know not his name nor of\nwhat country he was.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"He said that you should yet know it well.\"\n\nThe two good knights lay the night at the castle, and the Poor Knight\nlodged them as well as he might.  When it cometh to morning, they go to\nthe chapel to hear mass and to be at the burial of the body.  After\nthat they take leave of the Poor Knight and the two damsels and depart\nfrom the castle all armed.\n\n\"Messire Gawain,\" saith Lancelot, \"They know not at court what hath\nbecome of you, and they hold you for dead as they suppose.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"thitherward will I go, for I have\nhad sore travail, and there will I abide until some will shall come to\nme to go seek adventure.\"\n\nHe recounteth to Lancelot how the Graal hath appeared to him at the\ncourt of King Fisherman: \"And even as it was there before me, I forgat\nto ask how it served and of what?\"\n\n\"Ha, Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"Have you then been there?\"\n\n\"Yea,\" saith he, \"And thereof am I right sorry and glad: glad for the\ngreat holiness I have seen, sorry for that I asked not that whereof\nKing Fisherman prayed me right sweetly.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"Right sorely ill have you wrought, nor is there\nnot whereof I have so great desire as I have to go to his castle.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Much shamed was I there, but this\ndoth somewhat recomfort me, that the Best Knight was there before me\nthat gat blame thereof in like manner as I.\"\n\nLancelot departeth from Messire Gawain, and they take leave either of\nother.  They issue forth of a forest, and each taketh his own way\nwithout saying a word.\n\n\n\nBRANCH VII.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nHere the story is silent of Messire Gawain and beginneth to speak of\nLancelot, that entereth into a forest and rideth with right great ado\nand meeteth a knight in the midst of the forest that was coming full\nspeed and was armed of all arms.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"Whence come you?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"I come from the neighbourhood of King Arthur's\nCourt.\"\n\n\"Ha, Sir, can you tell me tidings of a knight that beareth a green\nshield such as I bear?  If so, he is my brother.\"\n\n\"What name hath he?\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"His name is Gladoens, and he is a good knight and a\nhardy, and he hath a white horse right strong and swift.\"\n\n\"Be there other knights in your country that bear such arms as your\nshield and his besides you and he?\"\n\n\"Certes, Sir, none.\"\n\n\"And wherefore do you ask?\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"For this, that a certain man hath reft him of one of his castles for\nthat he was not there.  Howbeit, I know well that he will have it again\nthrough his good knighthood.\"\n\n\"Is he so good knight?\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"Certes, Sir, yea!  He is the best of the Isles of the Moors.\"\n\n\"Sir, of your mercy, lower your coif.\"\n\nHe quickly thereon lowereth his coif, and Lancelot looketh at him in\nthe face.  \"Certes, Sir Knight,\" saith he, \"you very much resemble him.\"\n\n\"Ha, Sir,\" saith the knight, \"Know you then any tidings of him?\"\n\n\"Certes, Sir,\" saith he, \"Yea!  and true tidings may I well say, for he\nrode at my side five leagues Welsh, nor never saw I one man so like\nanother as are you to him.\"\n\n\"Good right hath he to resemble me,\" saith the knight, \"for we are\ntwins, but he was born first and hath more sense and knighthood than I;\nnor in all the Isles of the Moors is there damsel that hath so much\nworth and beauty as she of whom he is loved of right true love, and\nmore she desireth to see him than aught else that liveth, for she hath\nnot seen him of more than a year, wherefore hath she gone seek her\nprize, my brother, by all the forests of the world. Sir,\" saith the\nknight, \"Let me go seek my brother, and tell me where I may find him.\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith Lancelot, \"I will tell you though it grieve me sore.\"\n\n\"Wherefore?\" saith the knight, \"Hath he done you any mis-deed?\"\n\n\"In no wise,\" saith Lancelot, \"Rather hath he done so much for me that\nI love you thereof and offer you my service.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"I am going my way, but for God's sake tell me\nwhere I shall find my brother.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"I will tell you.  This morning did I bid his\nbody farewell and help to bury him.\"\n\n\"Ha, Sir,\" saith the knight, \"Do you tell me true?\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith Lancelot, \"True it is that I tell you.\"\n\n\"Is he slain then, my brother?\" saith the knight.\n\n\"Yea, and of succouring me,\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"Ha, sir,\" saith the knight, \"For God's sake tell me nought that is not\nright.\"\n\n\"By God, Sir,\" saith he, \"Sore grieved am I to tell it you, for never\nloved I knight so much in so brief a time as I loved him. He helped to\nsave me from death, and therefore will I do for you according to that\nhe did for me.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"If he be dead, a great grief is it to myself,\nfor I have lost my comfort and my life and my land without recovery.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"He helped me to save my life, and yours will I\nhelp to save henceforth for ever and so be that I shall know of your\njeopardy.\"\n\nThe knight heareth that his brother is dead and well believeth\nLancelot, and beginneth to make dole thereof the greatest that was ever\nheard.  And Lancelot saith to him, \"Sir Knight, let be this dole, for\nnone recovery is there; but my body do I offer you and my knighthood in\nany place you please, where I may save your honour.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"With good will receive I your help and your\nlove, sith that you deign to offer me the same, and now have I sorer\nneed of them than ever. Sir,\" saith the knight, \"Sith that my brother\nis dead, I will return back and bear with my wrong, though well would\nhe have amended it had he been on live.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Lancelot, \"I will go with you, that so may I reward\nyou of that he hath done for me.  He delivered his body to the death\nfor me, and in like manner freely would I fain set mine own in jeopardy\nfor love of you and of him.\"\n\n\nII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"Right good will do I owe you of this that you\nsay to me, so your deeds be but the same herein.\"\n\n\"Yea, so help me God,\" saith Lancelot, \"The same shall they be, if God\nlend me the power.\"\n\nWith that, they go on their way together, and the knight comforteth him\nmuch of that which Lancelot hath said to him, but of the death of his\nbrother was he right sorrowful.  And they ride until they come to the\nland of the Moors; then espy they a castle upon a rock, and below was a\nbroad meadow-land.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Knight of the Green Shield to Lancelot, \"This castle\nwas my brother's and is now mine, and much it misliketh me that it hath\nfallen to me on this wise.  And the knight that reft it of my brother\nis of so great hardihood that he feareth no knight on live, and you\nwill presently see him issue forth of this castle so soon as he shall\nperceive you.\"\n\nLancelot and the knight ride until they draw nigh the castle. And the\nknight looketh in the way before him, and seeth a squire coming on a\nhackney, that was carrying before him a wild boar dead.  The Knight of\nthe Green Shield asketh him whose man he is, and the squire maketh\nanswer: \"I am man of the Lord of the Rock Gladoens, that cometh there\nbehind, and my lord cometh all armed, he and others, for the brother of\nGladoens hath defied him on behalf of his brother, but right little\nrecketh my lord of his defiance.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nLancelot heareth how he that is coming is the enemy of him to whom had\nhe been alive, his love most was due.  The Knight of the Green Shield\npointed him out so soon as he saw him.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he to Lancelot, \"Behold him by whom I am disherited, and\nyet worse would he do to me and he knew that my brother were dead.\"\n\nLancelot, without saving more, so soon as he had espied the Knight of\nthe Rock, smiteth his horse with his spurs and cometh toward him.  The\nLord of the Rock, that was proud and hardy, seeth Lancelot coming and\nsmiteth with his spurs the horse whereon he sitteth.  They come with so\nswift an onset either upon other that they break their spears upon\ntheir shields, and hurtle together so sore that the Knight of the Rock\nGladoens falleth over the croup of his horse.  Lancelot draweth his\nsword and cometh above him, and he crieth him mercy and asketh him\nwherefore he wisheth to slay him?  Lancelot saith for the sake of\nGladoens from whom he hath reft his land and his castle.  \"And what is\nthat to you?\" saith the knight.  \"Behoveth his brother challenge me\nthereof.\"\n\n\"As much it behoveth me as his brother,\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"Wherefore you?\"\n\n\"For this,\" saith Lancelot, \"That as much as he did for me will I do to\nyou.\"\n\nHe cutteth off his head and giveth it incontinent to the Knight of the\nGreen Shield.\n\n\"Now tell me,\" saith Lancelot, \"Sith that he is dead, is he purged of\nthat whereof you appeached him?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"I hold him rightly quit thereof, for, sith\nthat he is dead, all claim on behalf of his kindred is abated by his\ndeath.\"\n\n\"And I pledge you my faith loyally,\" saith Lancelot, \"as I am a knight,\nthat never shall you be in peril nor in jeopardy of aught wherein I may\nhelp you, so I be in place and free, but my help shall you have for\nevermore, for that your brother staked his life to help me.\"\n\n\nIV.\n\nLancelot and the knight lay the night at the Rock Gladoens, and the\nKnight of the Green Shield had his land at his pleasure, and all were\nobedient to him.  And the upright and loyal were right glad, albeit\nwhen they heard the tidings of Gladoens' death they were right\nsorrowful thereof.  Lancelot departed from the castle on the morrow,\nand the knight remained therein, sorrowful for his brother that he had\nlost, and glad for the land that he had gotten again.  Lancelot goeth\nback right amidst the forest and rideth the day long, and meeteth a\nknight that was coming, groaning sore.  And he was stooping over the\nfore saddle-bow for the pain that he had.  He meeteth Lancelot and\nsaith to him: \"Sir, for God's sake, turn back, for you will find there\nthe most cruel pass in the world there where I have been wounded\nthrough the body.  Wherefore I beseech you not go thither.\"\n\n\"What pass is it then?\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"It is the pass of the Castle of Beards, and it hath\nthe name of this, that every knight that passeth thereby must either\nleave his beard there or challenge the same, and in such sort have I\nchallenged my beard that meseemeth I shall die thereof.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Lancelot, \"I hold not this of cowardize, sith that\nyou were hardy to set your life in jeopardy to challenge your beard,\nbut now would you argue me of cowardize when you would have me turn\nback.  Rather would I be smitten through the body with honour, so and I\nhad not my death thereof, than lose with shame a single hair of my\nbeard.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"May God preserve you, for the castle is far\nmore cruel than you think, and God guide the knight that may destroy\nthe evil custom of the castle, for right shameful is the custom to\nstrange knights that pass thereby.\"\n\n\nV.\n\nLancelot departeth from the knight and cometh toward the castle. Just\nas he had passed over a great bridge, he looketh about and seeth two\nknights come all armed to the entrance of the castle, and they made\nhold their horses before them, and their shields and spears are before\nthem leaning against the wall.  Lancelot looketh at the gateway of the\ncastle and seeth the great door all covered with beards fastened\nthereon, and heads of knights in great plenty hung thereby.  So, as he\nwas about to enter the gate, two knights issue therefrom over against\nhim.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the one, \"Abide and pay your toll!\"\n\n\"Do knights, then, pay toll here?\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"Yea!\" say the knights, \"All they that have beards, and they that have\nnone are quit.  Sir, now pay us yours, for a right great beard it is,\nand thereof have we sore need.\"\n\n\"For what?\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"I will tell you,\" saith the knight.  \"There be hermits in this forest\nthat make hair-shirts thereof.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Lancelot, \"Never shall they have hair-shirt of\nmine, so I may help it.\"\n\n\"That shall they,\" say the knights, \"Of yours as of the other, or\ndearly shall you pay therefor!\"\n\n\nVI.\n\nRight wroth waxeth Sir Lancelot, and cometh to the knight, and smiteth\nhim with his spear amidst the breast with such a thrust that it passeth\nhalf an ell beyond, and overthroweth him and his horse together.  The\nother knight seeth his fellow wounded to the death, and cometh towards\nhim with a great sweep and breaketh his spear upon his shield.\nHowbeit, Lancelot beareth him to the ground right over his horse-croup\nand maketh him fall so heavily that he breaketh one of his legs.  The\ntidings are come to the Lady of the Castle that a knight hath come to\nthe pass that hath slain one of her knights and wounded the other.  The\nLady is come thither, and bringeth two of her damsels with her.  She\nseeth Lancelot that is fain to slay the knight that lieth wounded on\nthe ground.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Lady to Lancelot, \"Withdraw yourself back and slay him\nnot, but alight and speak to me in safety.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith one of the maidens, \"I know him well.  This is Lancelot\nof the Lake, the most courteous knight that is in the court of King\nArthur.\"\n\nHe alighteth and cometh before the Lady.  \"Lady,\" saith he, \"what is\nyour pleasure?\"\n\n\"I desire,\" saith she, \"that you come to my hostel to harbour, and that\nyou make me amends of the shame you have done me.\"\n\n\nVII.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Lancelot, \"Shame have I never done you nor shall do, but\nthe knights took in hand too shameful a business when they were minded\nto take the beards of stranger knights by force.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I will forego mine ill-will on condition that you\nharbour herewithin to-night.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Lancelot, \"I desire not your ill-will, wherefore will I\ngladly do your pleasure.\"\n\nHe setteth him within the castle and maketh his horse be led in after\nhim, and the Lady hath the dead knight brought into the chapel and\nburied.  The other she biddeth be disarmed and clothed and commandeth\nthat his wounds be searched.  Then maketh she Lancelot be disarmed and\nclad right richly in a good robe, and telleth him that she knoweth well\nwho he is.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Lancelot, \"It is well for me.\"\n\nThereupon they sit to eat, and the first course is brought in by\nknights in chains that had their noses cut off; the second by knights\nin chains that had their eyes put out; wherefore they were led in by\nsquires.  The third course was brought in by knights that had but one\nhand and were in chains.  After that, came other knights that had each\nbut one foot and brought in the fourth course.  At the fifth course\ncame knights right fair and tall, and each brought a naked sword in his\nhand and presented their heads to the Lady.\n\n\nVIII.\n\nLancelot beheld the martyrdom of these knights, and sore misliking had\nhe of the services of such folk.  They are risen from meat and the lady\ngoeth to her chamber and sitteth on a couch.\n\n\"Lancelot,\" saith the Lady, \"you have seen the justice and the lordship\nof my castle.  All these knights have been conquered at the passing of\nmy door.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Lancelot, \"foul mischance hath befallen them.\"\n\n\"The like mischance would have befallen you had you not been knight so\ngood.  And greatly have I desired to see you this long time past.  And\nI will make you lord of this castle and myself.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"the lordship of this castle hold I of yourself\nwithout mesne, and to you have I neither wish nor right to refuse it.\nRather am I willing to be at your service.\"\n\n\"Then,\" saith she, \"you will abide with me in this castle, for more do\nI love you than any other knight that liveth.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Lancelot, \"Gramercy, but in no castle may I abide more\nthan one night until I have been thither whither behoveth me to go.\"\n\n\"Whither are you bound?\" saith she.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"to the Castle of Souls.\"\n\n\"Well know I the castle,\" saith she. \"The King hath the name Fisherman,\nand lieth in languishment on account of two knights that have been at\nhis castle and made not good demand.  Would you fain go thither?\" saith\nthe Lady.\n\n\"Yea,\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"Then pledge me your faith that you will return by me to speak to me,\nso the Graal shall appear to you and you ask whereof it serveth.\"\n\n\"Yea, truly,\" saith Lancelot, \"were you beyond sea!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith one of the damsels, \"So much may you well promise, for the\nGraal appeareth not to no knight so wanton as be ye.  For you love the\nQueen Guenievre, the wife of your lord, King Arthur, nor so long as\nthis love lieth at your heart may you never behold the Graal.\"\n\n\nIX.\n\nLancelot heard the damsel and blushed of despite.\n\n\"Ha, Lancelot,\" saith the Lady, \"Love you other than me?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"the damsel may say her pleasure.\"\n\nLancelot lay the night at the castle, and right wroth was he of the\ndamsel that calleth the love of him and the Queen disloyal. And the\nmorrow when he had heard mass, he took leave of the Lady of the Castle,\nand she besought him over and over to keep his covenant, and he said\nthat so would he do without fail. Therewithal he issueth forth of the\ncastle and entereth into a tall and ancient forest, and rideth the day\nlong until he cometh to the outskirt of the forest, and seeth a tall\ncross at the entrance of a burying-ground enclosed all round about with\na hedge of thorns.  And the way lay through the burying ground.\nLancelot entered therein and the night was come.  He seeth the\ngraveyard full of tombs and sepulchres.  He looketh behind and seeth a\nchapel wherein were candles burning.  Thitherward goeth he, and passeth\nbeyond without saying aught more by the side of a dwarf that was\ndigging a grave in the ground.\n\n\"Lancelot,\" saith the dwarf, \"you are right not to salute me, for you\nare the man of all the world that most I hate; and God grant me\nvengeance of your body.  So will He what time you are stricken down\nhere within!\"\n\nLancelot heard the dwarf, but deigned not to answer him of nought.  He\nis come to the chapel, and alighteth and maketh fast the bridle of his\nhorse to a tree, and leaneth his shield and spear without.  After that\nhe entereth into the chapel, and findeth a damsel laying out a knight\nin his winding-sheen.  As soon as Lancelot was entered therewithin the\nwounds of the knight were swollen up and began to bleed afresh.\n\n\"Ha, Sir Knight, now see I plainly that you slew him that I am wrapping\nin his windingsheet!\"\n\n\nX.\n\nThereupon, behold you, two knights that are carrying other two knights\ndead.  They alight and then set them in the chapel.  And the dwarf\ncrieth out to them: \"Now shall it be seen how you avenge your friends\nof the enemy that fell upon you!\"\n\nThe knight that had fled from the forest when Messire Gawain came\nthither where the three lay dead, was come therewithin and knew\nLancelot, whereupon saith he: \"Our mortal enemy are you, for by you\nwere these three knights slain.\"\n\n\"Well had they deserved it,\" saith Lancelot, \"and in this chapel am I\nin no peril of you, wherefore as at this time will I depart not hence,\nfor I know not the ways of the forest.\"\n\nHe was in the chapel until the day broke, when he issued forth thereof,\nand sore it weighed upon him that his horse was still fasting.  He\ntaketh his arms and is mounted. The dwarf crieth out aloud: \"What\naileth you?\" saith he to the two knights, \"Will you let your mortal\nenemy go thus?\"\n\nWith that the two knights mount their horses and go to the two issues\nof the grave-yard, thinking that Lancelot is fain to flee therefrom;\nbut no desire hath he thereof, wherefore he cometh to the knight that\nwas guarding the entrance whereby he had to issue out, and smiteth him\nso stiffly that he thrusteth the point of his spear right through his\nbody.  The other knight that was guarding the other entrance, that had\nfled out of the forest before, had no mind to avenge his fellow, and\nfled incontinent so fast as he might.  And Lancelot taketh the horse of\nthe knight he had slain and driveth him before him, for he thinketh\nthat some knight may haply have need thereof.  He rideth on until he\ncometh to a hermitage in the forest where he alighteth and hath his\nhorses stabled, and the Hermit giveth them of the best he hath. And\nLancelot heard mass, and afterward are a little and fell on sleep.\nThereafter, behold you, a knight that cometh to the Hermit and seeth\nLancelot that was about to mount.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Whither go you?\"\n\n\"Sir Knight,\" saith Lancelot, \"thither shall I go where God may please;\nbut you, whitherward are you bound to go?\"\n\n\"Sir, I go to see one of my brethren and my two sisters, for I have\nbeen told that he hath fallen on such mishap as that he is called the\nPoor Knight, whereof am I sore sorrowful.\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith Lancelot, \"poor he is, the more the pity! Howbeit, will\nyou do him a message from me?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"Right willingly!\"\n\n\"Will you present him with this horse on my behalf, and tell him how\nLancelot that harboured with him hath sent it?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"Right great thanks, and blessed may you be,\nfor he that doth a kindness to a worshipful man loseth it not.\"\n\n\"Salute the two damsels for me,\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"Sir, right willingly!\"\n\nThe knight delivereth the horse to his squire, and taketh leave of\nLancelot.\n\n\nXI.\n\nThereupon, Lancelot departeth from the hermitage and rideth on until he\ncometh forth of the forest, and findeth a waste land, a country broad\nand long wherein wonned neither beast nor bird, for the land was so\npoor and parched that no victual was to be found therein.  Lancelot\nlooketh before him and seeth a city appear far away.  Thither rideth he\nfull speed and seeth that the city is so great that it seemeth him to\nencompass a whole country.  He seeth the walls that are falling all\naround, and the gates ruined with age.  He entereth within and findeth\nthe city all void of folk, and seeth the great palaces fallen down and\nwaste, and the great grave-yards full of sepulchres, and the tall\nchurches all lying waste, and the markets and exchanges all empty.  He\nrideth amidst the streets, and findeth a great palace that seemeth him\nto be better and more ancient than all the others.  He bideth awhile\nbefore it and heareth within how knights and ladies are making great\ndole.  And they say to a knight: \"Ha, God, sore grief and pity is this\nof you, that you must needs die in such manner, and that your death may\nnot be respited!  Sore hatred ought we to bear toward him that hath\nadjudged you such a death.\"\n\nThe knights and ladies swoon over him as he departeth.  Lancelot hath\nheard all this and much marvelleth he thereof, but nought thereof may\nhe see.\n\n\nXII.\n\nThereupon, lo you, the knight that cometh down into the midst of the\nhall, clad in a short red jerkin; and he was girt with a rich girdle of\ngold, and had a rich clasp at his neck wherein were many rich stones,\nand on his head had he a great cap of gold, and he held great axe.  The\nknight was of great comeliness and young of age.  Lancelot seeth him\ncoming, and looketh upon him right fainly when he seeth him appear.\nAnd the knight saith to him, \"Sir, alight!\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith Lancelot, \"Willingly.\"\n\nHe alighteth and maketh his horse fast to a ring of silver that was on\nthe mounting-stage, and putteth his shield from his neck and his spear\nfrom his hand.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he to the knight, \"What is your pleasure?\"\n\n\"Sir, needs must you cut me off my head with this axe, for of this\nweapon hath my death been adjudged, but and you will not, I will cut\noff your own therewith.\"\n\n\"Hold, Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"What is this you tell me?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"you must needs do even as I say, sith that\nyou are come into this city.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"Right foolish were he that in such a jeopardy\nshould not do the best for himself, but blamed shall I be thereof and I\nshall slay you when you have done me no wrong.\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith the Knight, \"In no otherwise may you go hence.\"\n\n\"Fair Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"So gentle are you and so well nurtured,\nhow cometh it that you take your death so graciously? You know well\nthat I shall kill you before you shall kill me, sith that so it is.\"\n\n\"This know I well for true,\" saith the Knight, \"But you will promise me\nbefore I die, that you will return into this city within a year from\nthis, and that you will set your head in the same jeopardy without\nchallenge, as I have set mine.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Lancelot, \"Needeth no argument that I shall choose\nrespite of death to dying here on the spot.  But I marvel me of this\nthat you are so fairly apparelled to receive your death.\"\n\n\nXIII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Knight, \"He that would go before the Saviour of the\nWorld ought of right to apparel him as fairly as he may.  I am by\nconfession purged of all wickedness and of all the misdeeds that ever I\nhave committed, and do repent me truly thereof, wherefore at this\nmoment am I fain to die.\"\n\nTherewithal he holdeth forth the axe, and Lancelot taketh it and seeth\nthat it is right keen and well whetted.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Knight, \"Hold up your hand toward the minster that you\nsee yonder.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"Willingly.\"\n\n\"Thus, then, will you swear to me upon the holy relics that are within\nthis minster, that on this day year at the hour that you shall have\nslain me, or before, you yourself will come back here and place your\nhead in the very same peril as I shall have placed mine, without\ndefault?\"\n\n\"Thus,\" saith Lancelot, \"do I swear and give you thereto my pledge.\"\n\nWith that, the Knight kneeleth and stretcheth his neck as much as he\nmay, and Lancelot taketh the axe in his hands, and then saith to him,\n\"Sir Knight, for God's sake, have mercy on yourself!\"\n\n\"Let cut off my head!\" saith the Knight, \"For otherwise may I not have\nmercy upon you!\"\n\n\"In God's name,\" saith Lancelot, \"fain would I deny you!\"\n\nWith that, he swingeth the axe and cutteth off the head with such a\nsweep that he maketh it fly seven foot high from the body.  The Knight\nfell to the ground when his head was cut off, and Lancelot flung down\nthe axe, and thinketh that he will make but an ill stay there for\nhimself.  He cometh to his horse, and taketh his arms and mounteth and\nlooketh behind him, but seeth neither the body of the Knight nor the\nhead, neither knoweth he what hath become of them all, save only that\nhe heard much dole and a great cry far off in the city of knights and\nladies, saying that he shall be avenged, please God, at the term set,\nor before. Lancelot hath heard and understood all that the knights say\nand the ladies, and issueth forth of the city.\n\n\n\nBRANCH VIII.\n\nOf the most Holy Graal here beginneth another branch in such wise as\nthe authority witnesseth and Joseph that made recoverance thereof, in\nthe name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.\n\n\nTITLE I.\n\nThis high history and profitable witnesseth us that the son of the\nWidow Lady sojourned still with his uncle King Pelles in the hermitage,\nand through distress of the evil that he had had since he came forth of\nthe house of King Fisherman, was he confessed to his uncle and told him\nof what lineage he was, and that his name was Perceval.  But the good\nHermit the good King had given him the name of Parluifet, for that he\nwas made of himself.  King Hermit was one day gone into the forest, and\nthe good knight Parluifet felt himself sounder of health and lustier\nthan he wont to be.  He heard the birds sing in the forest, and his\nheart began to swell of knighthood, and he minded him of the adventures\nhe wont to find in the forest and of the damsels and knights that he\nwont to meet, and never was he so fain of arms as was he at that time,\nfor that he had been sojourning so long within doors. He felt courage\nin his heart and lustiness in his limbs and fainness in his thought.\nRight soon armeth he himself and setteth the saddle on his horse and\nmounteth forthwith.  He prayeth God give him adventure that he may meet\ngood knight, setteth himself forth of his uncle's hermitage and\nentereth into the forest that was broad and shady.  He rideth until he\ncometh into a launde that was right spacious, and seeth a leafy tree\nthat was at the head of the launde.  He alighteth in the shadow, and\nthinketh to himself that two knights might joust on this bit of ground\nfair and well, for the place was right broad.  And, even as he was\nthinking on this wise, he heard a horse neigh full loud in the forest\nthree times, and right glad was he thereof and said: \"Ha, God, of your\nsweetness grant that there be a knight with that horse, so may I prove\nwhether there be any force or valour or knighthood in me.  For I know\nnot now what strength I may have, nor even whether my heart be sound\nand my limbs whole. For on a knight that hath neither hardihood nor\nvalour in himself, may not another knight that hath more force in him\nreasonably prove his mettle, for many a time have I heard say that one\nis better than other.  And for this pray I to the Saviour and this be a\nknight that cometh there, that he may have strength and hardihood and\nmettle to defend his body against mine own, for great desire have I to\nrun upon him.  Grant now that he slay me not, nor I him!\"\n\n\nII.\n\nTherewithal, he looketh before him, and seeth the knight issue from the\nforest and enter into the launde.  The knight was armed and had at his\nneck a white shield with a cross of gold.  He carried his lance low,\nand sate upon a great destrier and rode at a swift pace.  As soon as\nPerceval seeth him, he steadieth him in his stirrups and setteth spear\nin rest and smiteth his horse with his spurs, right joyous, and goeth\ntoward the knight a great gallop.  Then he crieth: \"Sir Knight, cover\nyou of your shield to guard you as I do of mine to defend my body, for\nyou do I defy on this side slaying, and our Lord God grant that I find\nyou so good knight as shall try what hardihood of heart I may have, for\nI am not such as I have been aforetime, and better may one learn of a\ngood knight than of a bad.\"\n\nWith that he smiteth the knight upon his shield with such a sweep that\nhe maketh him lose one of his stirrups and pierceth his shield above\nthe boss, and passeth beyond full speed.  And the knight marvelleth\nmuch, and maketh demand, saying, \"Fair Sir, what misdeed have I done\nyou?\"\n\nPerceval is silent, and hath no great joy of this that he hath not\noverthrown the knight, but not so easy was he to overthrow, for he was\none of the knights of the world that could most of defence of arms.  He\ngoeth toward Perceval as fast as his horse may carry him and Perceval\ntoward him.  They mell together upon their shields right stiffly, so\nthat they pierce and batter them with the points of their spears.  And\nPerceval thrusteth his spear into the flesh two finger-breadths, and\nthe knight doth not amiss, for he passeth his spear right through his\narm so that the shafts of the lances were splintered.  They hurtle\ntogether either against other at the passing so mightily, that the\nflinders of iron from the mail of their habergeons stick into their\nforeheads and faces, and the blood leapeth forth by mouth and nose so\nthat their habergeons were all bloody.  They drew their swords with a\nright great sweep.  The knight of the white shield holdeth Perceval's\nrein and saith: \"Gladly would I know who you are and wherefore you hate\nme, for you have wounded me right sore, and sturdy knight have I found\nyou and of great strength.\"\n\nPerceval saith not a word to him and runneth again upon him sword\ndrawn, and the knight upon him, and right great buffets either giveth\nother on the helm, so that their eyes all sparkle of stars and the\nforest resoundeth of the clashing of their swords.  Right tough was the\nbattle and right horrible, for good knights were both twain.  But the\nblood that ran down from their wounds at last slackened their sinews,\nalbeit the passing great wrath that the one had against the other, and\nthe passing great heat of their will, had so enchafed them they scarce\nremembered the wounds that they had, and still dealt each other great\nbuffets without sparing.\n\n\nIII.\n\nKing Hermit cometh from labouring in the forest and findeth not his\nnephew in the hermitage, whereof is he right sorrowful, and he mounteth\non a white mule that he had therewithin.  She was starred in the midst\nof her forehead with a red cross.  Josephus the good clerk witnesseth\nus that this same mule had belonged to Joseph of Abarimacie at the time\nhe was Pilate's soldier, and that he bequeathed her to King Pelles.\nKing Hermit departeth from the hermitage and prayeth God grant him to\nfind his nephew. He goeth through the forest and rideth until he\ndraweth nigh the launde where the two knights were.  He heareth the\nstrokes of the swords, and cometh towards them full speed and setteth\nhim between the twain to forbid them.\n\n\"Ha, sir,\" saith he to the Knight of the White Shield, \"Right great ill\ndo you to combat against this knight that hath lain sick this long time\nin this forest, and fight sorely have you wounded him.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the-knight, \"As much hath he done by me, and never would I\nhave run upon him now had he not challenged me, and he is not minded to\ntell me who he is nor whence ariseth his hatred of me.\"\n\n\"Fair Sir,\" saith the Hermit, \"And you, who are you?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"I will tell you. I am the son of King Ban of\nBenoic.\"\n\n\"Ha, fair nephew,\" saith King Hermit to Perceval, \"See here your\ncousin, for King Ban of Benoic was your father's cousin-german. Make\nhim right great cheer!\"\n\nHe maketh them take off their helmets and lower their ventails, and\nthen kiss one another, afterward he leadeth them to his hermitage.\nThey alight together.  He calleth his own squire that waited upon him,\nand made them be disarmed right tenderly.  There was a damsel within\nthat was cousin-german to King Pelles and had tended Perceval within in\nhis sickness.  She washeth their wounds right sweetly and cleanseth\nthem of the blood.  And they see that Lancelot is sorer wounded than\nPerceval.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the Hermit, \"How seemeth you?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Needs must this knight sojourn here, for his wound\nis in a right perilous place.\"\n\n\"Hath he danger of death?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"In no wise of this wound, but behoveth him take good\nheed thereto.\"\n\n\"God be praised!\" saith he, \"and of my nephew how seemeth you?\"\n\n\"Sir, the wound that he hath will be soon healed.  He will have none\nill thereof.\"\n\n\nIV.\n\nThe damsel, that was right cunning of leech-craft, tended the wounds of\nthe knights, and made them whole as best she might, and King Hermit\nhimself gave counsel therein.  But and Perceval had borne his shield\nthat was there within, of sinople with a white hart, Lancelot would\nhave known him well, nor would there have been any quarrel between\nthem, for he had heard tell of this shield at the court of King Arthur.\nThe authority of this story recordeth that the two knights are in\nhermitage, and that Perceval is well-nigh whole; but Lancelot hath sore\npain of his wound and is still far from his healing.\n\n\n\nBRANCH IX.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nNow the story is silent about the two knights for a little time, and\nspeaketh of the squire that Messire Gawain meeteth in the midst of the\nforest, that told him he went seek the son of the Widow Lady that had\nslain his father.  And the squire saith that he will go to avenge him,\nwherefore cometh he to the court of King Arthur, for that he had heard\ntell how all good knights repaired thither.  And he seeth the shield\nhang on the column in the midst of the hall that the Damsel of the Car\nhad brought thither.  The squire knoweth it well, and kneeleth before\nthe King and saluteth him, and the King returneth his salute and asketh\nwho he is.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"I am the son of the Knight of the Red Shield of the\nForest of Shadows, that was slain of the Knight that ought to bear the\nshield that hangeth on this column, wherefore would I right gladly hear\ntidings of him.\"\n\n\"As gladly would I,\" saith the King, \"so that no evil came to him\nthereof, for he is the knight of the world that I most desire.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Squire, \"Well behoveth me to hate him for that he slew\nmy father.  He that ought to bear this shield was squire when he slew\nhim, wherefore am I the more sorrowful for that I thought to be avenged\nupon him squire.  But this I may not do, wherefore I pray you for God's\nsake that you will make me knight, for the like favour are you\naccustomed to grant unto others.\"\n\n\"What is your name, fair friend?\" saith the King.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"I am called Clamados of the Shadows.\"\n\nMessire Gawain that had repaired to court, was in the hall, and said to\nthe King: \"If this squire be enemy of the Good Knight that ought to\nbear this shield, behoveth you not set forward his mortal enemy but\nrather set him back, for he is the Best Knight of the world and the\nmost chaste that liveth in the world and of the most holy lineage, and\ntherefore have you sojourned right long time in this castle to await\nhis coming.  I say not this for the hindering of the squire's\nadvancement, but that you may do nought whereof the Good Knight may\nhave cause of complaint against you.\"\n\n\"Messire Gawain,\" saith Queen Guenievre, \"well know I that you love my\nLord's honour, but sore blame will he have if he make not this one\nknight, for so much hath he never refused to do for any; nor yet will\nthe Good Knight have any misliking thereof, for greater shame should he\nhave, and greater despite of the hatred of a squire than of a knight;\nfor never yet was good knight that was not prudent and well-advised and\nslow to take offence. Wherefore I tell you that he will assuredly\nlisten to reason, and I commend my Lord the rather that he make him\nknight, for much blame would he have of gainsaying him.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"So you are content, I am happy.\"\n\nThe King made him knight right richly, and when he was clad in the\nrobes, they of the court declare and witness that never this long time\npast had they seen at the court knight of greater comeliness.  He\nsojourned therein long time, and was much honoured of the King and all\nthe barons.  He was every day on the watch for the Good Knight that\nshould come for the shield, but the hour and the place were not as yet.\n\n\nII.\n\nWhen he saw that he did not come, he took leave of the King and the\nQueen and all them of the court, and departed, thinking him that he\nwould go prove his knighthood in some place until he should have heard\ntidings of his mortal enemy.  He rideth amidst the great forests\nbearing a red shield like as did his father, and he was all armed as\nfor defending of his body.  And a long space of time he rideth, until\none day he cometh to the head of a forest, and he espied his way that\nran between two mountains and saw that he had to pass along the midst\nof the valley that lay at a great depth.  He looketh before him and\nseeth a tree far away from him, and underneath were three damsels\nalighted, and one prayed God right heartily aloud that He would send\nthem betimes a knight that durst convoy them through this strait pass.\n\n\nIII.\n\nClamodos heareth the damsel and cometh thitherward.  When they espied\nhim, great joy have they thereof and rise up to meet him. \"Sir,\" say\nthey, \"Welcome may you be!\"\n\n\"Damsels,\" saith he, \"Good adventure may you have!  And whom await you\nhere?\" saith he.\n\n\"We await,\" saith the Mistress of the damsels, \"some knight that shall\nclear this pass, for no knight durst pass hereby.\"\n\n\"What is the pass; then, damsel?\" saith he.\n\n\"It is the one of a lion, and a lion, moreover, so fell and horrible\nthat never was none seen more cruel.  And there is a knight with the\nlion between the two mountains that is right good knight and hardy and\ncomely.  Howbeit none durst pass without great company of folk.  But\nthe knight that hath repair with the lion is seldom there, for so he\nwere there we need fear no danger, for much courtesy is there in him\nand valour.\"\n\nAnd the knight looketh and seeth in the shadow of the forest three fair\nstags harnessed to a car.\n\n\"Ha,\" saith he, \"you are the Damsel of the Car, wherefore may you well\ntell me tidings of the knight of whom I am in quest.\"\n\n\"Who is he?\" saith the Damsel.\n\n\"It is he that should bear a shield banded argent and azure with a red\ncross.\"\n\n\"Of him am I likewise in quest,\" saith the Damsel; \"please God, we\nshall hear tidings of him betimes.\"\n\n\"Damsel\" saith the knight, \"that would I.  And for that you are in\nquest of him as am I likewise, I will convoy you beyond this pass.\"\n\nThe Damsel maketh her Car go on before, and the damsels go before the\nknight; and so enter they into the field of the lion, and right fair\nland found they therewithin.  Clamados looketh and seeth the hall\nwithin an enclosure and seeth the lion that lay at the entrance of the\ngateway.  As soon as he espieth Clamados and the damsels, he cometh\ntoward them full speed, mouth open and ears pricked up.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Damsel, \"and you defend not your horse on foot, he is\ndead at the first onset.\"\n\n\nIV.\n\nClamados is alighted to his feet, by her counsel, and holdeth his spear\nin his fist, and the lion rampeth toward him all in a fury. Clamados\nreceiveth him on the point of his spear, and smiteth him therewith so\nstoutly that it passeth a fathom beyond his neck. He draweth back his\nspear without breaking it, and thinketh to smite him again.  But the\nlion cheateth him, and arising himself on his two hinder feet, setteth\nhis fore feet on his shoulders, then huggeth him toward him like as one\nman doth another.  But the grip was sore grievous, for he rendeth his\nhabergeon in twain and so teareth away as much flesh as he can claw\nhold on.\n\n\nV.\n\nWhen Clamados felt himself wounded, he redoubled his hardihood, and\ngrippeth the lion so straitly to him that he wringeth a huge roar out\nof him, and then flingeth him to the ground beneath him. Then he\ndraweth his sword and thrusteth it to the heart right through the\nbreast.  The lion roareth so loud that all the mountains resound\nthereof.  Clamados cutteth off his head and goeth to hang it at the\ndoor of the hall.  Then he cometh back to his horse and mounteth the\nbest he may.  And the Damsel saith to him, \"Sir, you are sore wounded.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" said he, \"please God, I shall take no hurt thereof.\"\n\nThereupon, behold you a squire that issueth forth of the hall and\ncometh after him full speed.  \"Hold, Sir Knight,\" saith he; \"Foul wrong\nhave you wrought, for you have slain the lion of the most courteous\nknight that may be known, and the fairest and most valiant of this\nkingdom, and in his despite have you hung the head at his door!  Right\npassing great outrage have you done hereby!\"\n\n\"Fair sweet friend,\" saith Clamados, \"it may well be that the lord is\nright courteous, but the lion was rascal and would have slain me and\nthem that were passing by.  And your lord loved him so much he should\nhave chained him up, for better liketh me that I slew him than that he\nshould slay me.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the squire, \"there is no road this way, for it is a\nforbidden land whereof certain would fain reave my lord, and it was\nagainst the coming of his enemies that the lion was allowed forth\nunchained.\"\n\n\"And what name hath your lord, fair friend?\" saith Clamados.\n\n\"Sir, he is called Meliot of Logres, and he is gone in quest of Messire\nGawain, of whom he holdeth the land, for right dear is he to him.\"\n\n\"Messire Gawain,\" saith Clamados, \"left I at the court of King Arthur,\nbut behoveth him depart thence or ever I return thither.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the squire, \"faith would I you might meet them both\ntwain, if only my lord knew that you had slain him his lion.\"\n\n\"Fair friend,\" saith Clamados, \"and he be as courteous as you say, no\nmisliking will he have of me thereof, for I slew him in defending mine\nown body, and God forbid I should meet any that would do me evil\ntherefor.\"\n\n\nVI.\n\nThereupon the knight and the damsels depart and pass the narrow strait\nin the lion's field, and ride on until they draw nigh a right rich\ncastle seated in a meadowland surrounded of great waters and high\nforests, and the castle was always void of folk. And they were fain to\nturn thitherward, but they met a squire that told them that in the\ncastle was not a soul, albeit and they would ride forward they would\nfind great plenty of folk.  So far forward have they ridden that they\nare come to the head of a forest and see great foison of tents\nstretched right in the midst of a launde, and they were compassed round\nof a great white sheet that seemed from afar to be a long white wall\nwith crenels, and it was a good league Welsh in length.  They came to\nthe entrance of the tents and heard great joy within, and when they had\nentered they saw dames and damsels, whereof was great plenty, and of\nright passing great beauty were they.  Clamados alighteth, that was\nright sore wounded.  The Damsel of the Car was received with right\ngreat joy.  Two of the damsels come to Clamados, of whom make they\nright great joy.  Afterward they lead him to a tent and made disarm\nhim.  Then they washed his wounds right sweetly and tenderly.  Then\nthey brought him a right rich robe and made him be apparelled therein,\nand led him before the ladies of the tents, that made right great joy\nof him.\n\n\nVII.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the Damsel of the Car, \"This knight hath saved my life,\nfor he hath slain the lion on account of which many folk durst not come\nto you, wherefore make great joy of him.\"\n\n\"Greater joy may I not make, than I do, nor the damsels that are\nherein, for we await the coming of the Good Knight that is healed, from\nday to day.  And now is there nought in the world I more desire to see.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Clamados, \"Who is this Good Knight?\"\n\n\"The son of the Widow Lady of the Valleys of Camelot,\" saith she.\n\n\"Tell me, Lady, do you say that he will come hither presently?\"\n\n\"So methinketh,\" saith she.\n\n\"Lady, I also shall have great joy thereof, and God grant he come\nbetimes!\"\n\n\"Sir Knight,\" saith she, \"What is your name?\"\n\n\"Lady\" saith he, \"I am called Clamados, and I am son of the lord of the\nForest of Shadows.\"\n\nShe throweth her arms on his neck and kisseth and embraceth him right\nsweetly, and saith: \"Marvel not that I make you joy thereof, for you\nare the son of my sister-in-law, nor have I any friend nor\nblood-kindred so nigh as are you, and fain would I you should be lord\nof all my land and of me, as is right and reason.\"\n\nThe damsels of the tents make right great joy of him when they know the\ntidings that he is so nigh of kin to the Lady of the Tents.  And he\nsojourned therewithin until that he was whole and heal, awaiting the\ncoming of the knight of whom he had heard the tidings.  And the damsels\nmarvel them much that he cometh not, for the damsel that had tended him\nwas therewithin and telleth them that he was healed of his arm, but\nthat Lancelot is not yet whole, wherefore he is still within the\nhermitage.\n\n\nVIII.\n\nThis high history witnesseth us and recordeth that Joseph, who maketh\nremembrance thereof, was the first priest that sacrificed the body of\nOur Lord, and forsomuch ought one to believe the words that come of\nhim.  You have heard tell how Perceval was of the lineage of Joseph of\nAbarimacie, whom God so greatly loved for that he took down His body\nhanging on the cross, which he would not should lie in the prison there\nwhere Pilate had set it. For the highness of the lineage whereof the\nGood Knight was descended ought one willingly to hear brought to mind\nand recorded the words that are of him.  The story telleth us that he\nwas departed of the hermitage all sound and whole, albeit he hath left\nLancelot, for that his wound was not yet healed, but he hath promised\nhim that he will come back to him so soon as he may.  He rideth amidst\na forest, all armed, and cometh toward evensong to the issue of the\nforest and seeth a castle before him right fair and well seated, and\ngoeth thitherward for lodging, for the sun was set.  He entereth into\nthe castle and alighteth.  The lord cometh to meet him that was a tall\nknight and a red, and had a felon look, and his face scarred in many\nplaces; and knight was there none therewithin save only himself and his\nhousehold.\n\n\nIX.\n\nWhen he seeth Perceval alighted, he runneth to bar the door, and\nPerceval cometh over against him.  For all greeting, the knight\nsaluteth him thus: \"Now shall you have,\" saith he, \"such guerdon as you\nhave deserved.  Never again shall you depart hence, for my mortal enemy\nare you, and right hardy are you thus to throw yourself upon me, for\nyou slew my brother the Lord of the Shadows, and Chaos the Red am I\nthat war upon your mother, and this castle have I reft of her.  In like\nmanner will I wring the life out of you or ever you depart hence!\"\n\n\"Already,\" saith Perceval, \"have I thrown myself on this your hostel to\nlodge with you, wherefore to blame would you be to do me evil.  But\nlodge me this night as behoveth one knight do for another, and on the\nmorrow at departing let each do the best he may.\"\n\n\"By my head!\" saith Chaos the Red, \"mortal enemy of mine will I never\nharbour here save I harbour him dead.\"\n\nHe runneth to the hall above, and armeth himself as swiftly as he may,\nand taketh his sword all naked in his hand and cometh back to the place\nwhere Perceval was, right full of anguish of heart for this that he\nsaid, that he would war upon his mother and had reft her of this\ncastle.  He flung his spear to the ground, and goeth toward him on foot\nand dealeth him a huge buffet above the helmet upon the coif of his\nhabergeon, such that he cleaveth the mail and cutteth off two\nfingers'-breadth of the flesh in such sort that he made him reel three\ntimes round.\n\n\nX.\n\nWhen Chaos the Red felt himself wounded, he was sore grieved thereof,\nand cometh toward Perceval and striketh him a great buffet above in the\nmidst of his helmet, so that he made the sparks fly and his neck stoop\nand his eyes sparkle of stars.  And the blow slippeth down on to the\nshield, so that it is cleft right down to the boss.  Perceval felt his\nneck stiff and heavy, and feeleth that the knight is sturdy and of\ngreat might.  He cometh back towards him, and thinketh to strike him\nabove in the midst of his head, but Chaos swerved aside from him;\nhowbeit Perceval reached him and caught his right arm and cutteth it\nsheer from his side, sword and all, and sendeth it flying to the\nground, and Chaos runneth upon him, thinking to grapple him with his\nleft arm, but his force was waning; nathless right gladly would he have\navenged himself and he might.  Howbeit, Perceval setteth on him again\nthat loved him not in his heart, and smiteth him again above on the\nhead, and dealeth him such a buffet as maketh his brains be all\nto-scattered abroad.  His household and servants were at the windows of\nthe hall.  When they see that their lord is nigh to the death, they cry\nto Perceval: \"Sir, you have slain the hardiest knight in the kingdom of\nLogres, and him that was most redoubted of his enemies; but we can do\nno otherwise; we know well that this castle is your mother's and ought\nto be yours.  We challenge it not; wherefore may you do your will of\nwhatsoever there is in the castle; but allow us to go to our lord that\nthere lieth dead, and take away the body and set it in some seemly\nplace for the sake of his good knighthood, and for that it behoveth us\nso to do.\"\n\n\"Readily do I grant it you,\" saith Perceval.\n\nThey bear the body to a chapel, then they disarm him and wind him in\nhis shroud.  After that they lead Perceval into the hall and disarm him\nand say to him: \"Sir, you may be well assured that there be none but us\ntwain herewithin and two damsels, and the doors are barred, and behold,\nhere are the keys which we deliver up to you.\"\n\n\"And I command you,\" saith Perceval, \"that you go straightway to my\nmother, and tell her that she shall see me betimes and I may get done,\nand so salute her and tell her I am sound and whole. And what is the\nname of this castle?\"\n\n\"Sir, it hath for name the Key of Wales, for it is the gateway of the\nland.\"\n\n\nXI.\n\nPerceval lay the night in the castle he had reconquered for his mother,\nand the morrow, when he was armed, he departed.  These promised that\nthey would keep the castle loyally and would deliver it up to his\nmother at her will.  He rode until he came to the tents where the\ndamsels were, and drew rein and listened. But there was not so great\njoy as when the damsel that rode like a knight and led the Car came\nthither with Clamados.  Great dole heard he that was made, and beating\nof palms.  Wherefore he bethought him what folk they might be.\nNatheless he was not minded to draw back without entering.  He alighted\nin the midst of the tents and set down his shield and his spear, and\nseeth the damsels wringing their hands and tearing their hair, and much\nmarvelleth he wherefore it may be.  A damsel cometh forward that had\nset forth from the castle where he had slain the knight: \"Sir, to your\nshame and ill adventure may you have come hither!\"\n\nPerceval looketh at her and marvelleth much of that she saith, and she\ncrieth out: \"Lady, behold here him that hath slain the best knight of\nyour lineage!  And you, Clamados, that are within there, he hath slain\nyour father and your uncle!  Now shall it be seen what you will do!\"\n\nThe Damsel of the Car cometh thitherward and knoweth Perceval by the\nshield that he bare of sinople with a white hart.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"welcome may you be!  Let who will make dole, I will\nmake joy of your coming!\"\n\n\nXII.\n\nTherewith the Damsel leadeth him into a tent and maketh him sit on a\nright rich couch; afterward she maketh him be disarmed of her two\ndamsels and clad in a right rich robe.  Then she leadeth him to the\nQueen of the Tents that was still making great dole.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the Damsel of the Car, \"Stint your sorrow, for behold,\nhere is the Good Knight on whose account were the tents here pitched,\nand on whose account no less have you been making this great joy right\nup to this very day!\"\n\n\"Ha,\" saith she, \"Is this then the son of the Widow Lady?\"\n\n\"Yea, certes,\" saith the Damsel.\n\n\"Ha,\" saith the Lady, \"He hath slain me the best knight of all my kin,\nand the one that protected me from mine enemies.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the Damsel, \"this one will be better able to protect and\ndefend us, for the Best Knight is he of the world and the comeliest.\"\n\nThe Queen taketh him by the hand and maketh him sit beside her. \"Sir,\"\nsaith she, \"Howsoever the adventure may have befallen, my heart biddeth\nme make joy of your coming.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"Gramercy!  Chaos would fain have slain me within his\ncastle, and I defended myself to my power.\"\n\nThe Queen looketh at him amidst his face, and is taken with a love of\nhim so passing strong and fervent that she goeth nigh to fall upon him.\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"and you will grant me your love, I will pardon you\nof all the death of Chaos the Red.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"your love am I right fain to deserve, and mine you\nhave.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"How may I perceive that you love me?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"I will tell you.  There is no knight in the world\nthat shall desire to do you a wrong, but I will help you against him to\nmy power.\"\n\n\"Such love,\" saith she, \"is the common love that knight ought to bear\nto lady.  Would you do as much for another?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"It well may be, but more readily shall a man give\nhelp in one place than in another.\"\n\nThe Queen would fain that Perceval should pledge himself to her further\nthan he did, and the more she looketh at him the better he pleaseth\nher, and the more is she taken with him and the more desirous of his\nlove.  But Perceval never once thought of loving her or another in such\nwise.  He was glad to look upon her, for that she was of passing great\nbeauty, but never spake he nought to her whereby she might perceive\nthat he loved her of inward love.  But in no wise might she refrain her\nheart, nor withdraw her eyes, nor lose her desire.  The damsels looked\nupon her with wonder that so soon had she forgotten her mourning.\n\n\nXIII.\n\nThereupon, behold you Clamados, that had been told that this was the\nknight that, as yet only squire, had slain his father and put Chaos his\nuncle to death.  He cometh into the tent and seeth him sitting beside\nthe Queen, that looked at him right sweetly.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"Great shame do you to yourself, in that you have\nseated at your side your own mortal enemy and mine.  Never again\nhenceforth ought any to have affiance in your love nor in your help.\"\n\n\"Clamados,\" saith the Queen, \"the knight hath thrown himself upon me\nsuddenly.  Wherefore ought I do him no evil, rather behoveth me lodge\nhim and keep his body in safety.  Nought, moreover, hath he done\nwhereof he might be adjudged of murder nor of treason.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Clamados, \"He slew my father in the Lonely Forest without\ndefiance, and treacherously cast a javelin at him and smote him through\nthe body, wherefore shall I never be at ease until I have avenged him.\nTherefore do I appeal and pray you to do me my right, not as being of\nyour kindred, but as stranger. For right willing am I that kinship\nshall avail me nought herein.\"\n\nPerceval looketh at the knight and seeth that he is of right goodly\ncomplexion of body and right comely of face.  \"Fair Sir,\" saith he, \"as\nof treason I would that you hold me quit, for never toward your father\nnor toward other have had I never a mind to do treason, and God defend\nme from such shame, and grant me strength to clear myself of any blame\nthereof.\"\n\nClamados cometh forward to proffer his gage.\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the Queen, \"not this day shall gage be received\nherein.  But to-morrow will come day, and counsel therewith, and then\nshall fight be done to each.\"\n\nClamados is moved of right great wrath, but the Queen of the Tents\nshoweth Perceval the most honour she may, whereof is Clamados right\nheavy, and saith that never ought any to put his trust in woman.  But\nwrongly he blameth her therein, for she did it of the passing great\nlove she hath for Perceval, inasmuch as well she knoweth that he is the\nBest Knight of the world and the comeliest.  But it only irketh her the\nmore that she may not find in him any sign of special liking toward\nherself neither in deed nor word, whereof is she beyond measure\nsorrowful.  The knights and damsels lay the night in the tents until\nthe morrow, and went to hear mass in a chapel that was in the midst of\nthe tents.\n\n\nXIV.\n\nWhen mass was sung, straightway behold you, a knight that cometh all\narmed, bearing a white shield at his neck.  He alighteth in the midst\nof the tents and cometh before the Queen all armed, and saith: \"Lady, I\nplain me of a knight that is there within that hath slain my lion, and\nif you do me not right herein, I will harass you as much or more than I\nwill him, and will harm you in every wise I may.  Wherefore I pray and\nrequire you, for the love of Messire Gawain, whose man I am, that you\ndo me right herein.\"\n\n\"What is the knight's name?\" saith the Queen.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"He is called Clamados of the Shadows, and methinketh\nI see him yonder, for I knew him when he was squire.\"\n\n\"And what is your name?\" saith the Queen.\n\n\"Lady, I am called Melior of Logres.\"\n\n\"Clamados,\" saith the Queen, \"Hear you what this knight saith?\"\n\n\"Yea, Lady,\" saith he; \"But again I require that you do me right of the\nknight that slew my father and my uncle.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Melior, \"I would fain go.  I know not toward whom the\nknight proffereth his gage, but him do I appeal of felony for my lion\nthat he hath slain.\"  He taketh in his hand the skirt of his habergeon:\n\"Lady, behold here the gage I offer you.\"\n\n\nXV.\n\n\"Clamados,\" saith the Queen, \"Hear you then not that which this knight\nsaith?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"I hear him well.  Truth it is that I slew his lion,\nbut not until after he had fallen upon me, and made the wounds whereof\nI have been healed herewithin.  But well you know that the knight who\ncame hither last night hath done me greater wrong than have I done this\nother.  Wherefore would I pray you that I may take vengeance of him\nfirst.\"\n\n\"You hear,\" saith she, \"how this knight that hath come hither all armed\nis fain to go back forthwith.  Quit you, therefore, of him first, and\nthen will we take thought of the other.\"\n\n\"Lady, gramercy!\" saith Meliot, \"and Messire Gawain will take it in\nright good part, for this knight hath slain my lion that defended me\nfrom all my enemies.  Nor is it true that the entrance to your tent was\ndeserted on account of my lion; and in despite of me hath he hung the\nhead at my gate.\"\n\n\"As of the lion,\" saith the Queen, \"you have no quarrel against him and\nhe slew him in defending his body, but as of the despite he did you as\nyou say, when in nought had you done him any wrong, it shall not be\nthat right shalt be denied you in my court, and if you desire to\ndeliver battle, no blame shall you have thereof.\"\n\n\nXVI.\n\nClamados maketh arm him and mounteth on his horse, and he seemeth right\nhardy of his arms and valorous.  He cometh right in the midst of the\ntent, where the ground was fair and level, and found Meilot of Logres\nall armed upon his horse, and a right comely knight was he and a\ndeliver.  And the ladies and damsels were round about the\ntilting-ground.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Queen to Perceval, \"I will that you keep the field for\nthese knights.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"At your pleasure.\"\n\nMeliot moveth toward Clamados right swiftly and Clamados toward him,\nand they melled together on their shields in such sort that they\npierced them and cleft the mail of their habergeons asunder with the\npoints of their spears, and the twain are both wounded so that the\nblood rayeth forth of their bodies.  The knights draw asunder to take\ntheir career, for their spears were broken short, and they come back\nthe one toward the other with a great rush, and smite each other on the\nbreast with their spears so stiffly that there is none but should have\nbeen pierced within the flesh, for the habergeons might protect them\nnot.  They hurtle against each other so strongly that knights and\nhorses fall together to the ground all in a heap.  The Queen and the\ndamsels have great pity of the two knights, for they see that they are\nboth so passing sore wounded.  The two knights rise to their feet and\nhold their swords naked and run the one on the other right wrathfully,\nwith such force as they had left.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Queen to Perceval, \"Go part these two knights asunder\nthat one slay not the other, for they are sore wounded.\"\n\nPerceval goeth to part them and cometh to Meliot of Logres. \"Sir,\"\nsaith he, \"Withdraw yourself back; you have done enough.\"\n\nClamados felt that he was sore wounded in two places, and that the\nwound he had in his breast was right great.  He draweth himself back.\nThe Queen is come thither. \"Fair nephew,\" saith she, \"Are you badly\nwounded?\"\n\n\"Yea, Lady,\" saith Clamados.\n\n\"Certes,\" saith the Queen, \"this grieveth me, but never yet saw I\nknight and he were desirous of fighting, but came at some time by\nmischance.  A man may not always stand on all his rights.\"\n\nShe made him be carried on his shield into a tent, and made search his\nwounds, and saw that of one had he no need to fear, but that the other\nwas right sore perilous.\n\n\nXVII.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Clamados, \"Once more do I pray and require you that you\nallow not the knight that slew my father to issue forth from hence,\nsave he deliver good hostage that he will come back when I shall be\nhealed.\"\n\n\"So will I do, sith that it is your pleasure.\"\n\nThe Queen cometh to the other knight that was wounded, for that he\ndeclareth himself Messire Gawain's man, and maketh search his wounds,\nand they say that he hath not been hurt so sore as is Clamados.  She\ncommandeth them to tend him and wait upon him right well-willingly,\n\"Sir,\" saith she to Perceval, \"Behoveth you abide here until such time\nas my nephew be heal, for you know well that whereof he plaineth\nagainst you, nor would I that you should depart hence without clearing\nyou of the blame.\"\n\n\"Lady, no wish have I to depart without your leave, but rather shall I\nbe ready to clear myself of blame whensoever and wheresoever time and\nplace may be.  But herewithin may I make not so long sojourn.\nNatheless to this will I pledge my word, that I will return thither\nwithin a term of fifteen days from the time he shall be whole.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Damsel of the Car, \"I will remain here in hostage for\nyou.\"\n\n\"But do you pray him,\" saith the Queen, \"that he remain herewithin with\nus.\"\n\n\nXVIII.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Perceval, \"I may not, for I left Lancelot wounded right\nsore in my uncle's hermitage.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Queen, \"I would fain that remaining here might have\npleased you as well as it would me.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"none ought it to displease to be with you, but every\nman behoveth keep his word as well as he may, and none ought to lie to\nso good a knight as he.\"\n\n\"You promise me, then,\" saith the Queen, \"that you will return hither\nthe soonest you may, or at the least, within the term appointed after\nyou shall have learnt that Clamados is healed, to defend you of the\ntreason that he layeth upon you?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"and if he die shall I be quit?\"\n\n\"Yea, truly, Sir, and so be that you have no will to come for love of\nme.  For right well should I love your coming.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"never shall be the day my services shall fail you,\nso I be in place, and you in need thereof.\"\n\nHe taketh leave and departeth, armed.  The Damsel of the Car commendeth\nhim to God, and Perceval departeth full speed and rideth so far on his\njourneys that he cometh to his uncle's hermitage and entereth in,\nthinking to find Lancelot.  But his uncle telleth him that he hath\ndeparted all sound and all heal of his wound, as of all other malady,\nas him thinketh.\n\n\n\nBRANCH X.\n\nINCIPIT.\n\nAnother branch of the Graal again beginneth in the name of the Father,\nand of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.\n\n\nTITLE I.\n\nAnd the story is here silent of Perceval, and saith that Lancelot goeth\nhis way and rideth by a forest until he findeth a castle amidst his way\nat the head of a launde, and seeth at the gateway of the castle an old\nknight and two damsels sitting on a bridge. Thitherward goeth he, and\nthe knight and damsels rise up to meet him, and Lancelot alighteth.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Vavasour, \"Welcome may you be.\"\n\nThe damsels make great joy of him and lead him into the castle. \"Sir,\"\nsaith the Vavasour, \"Sore need had we of your coming.\"\n\nHe maketh him go up into the hall above and be disarmed of his arms.\n\"Sir,\" saith the Vavasour, \"Now may you see great pity of these two\ndamsels that are my daughters.  A certain man would reave them of this\ncastle for that no aid nor succour have they save of me alone.  And\nlittle enough can I do, for I am old and feeble, and my kin also are of\nno avail, insomuch that hitherto have I been able to find no knight\nthat durst defend me from the knight that is fain to reave this castle\nfrom me.  And you seem to be of so great valiance that you will defend\nme well herein to-morrow, for the truce cometh to an end to-night.\"\n\n\"How?\" saith Lancelot, \"I have but scarce come in hither to lodge, and\nyou desire me so soon already to engage myself in battle?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Vavasour, \"Herein may it well be proven whether there\nbe within you as much valour as there seemeth from without to be.  For,\nand you make good the claim of these two damsels that are my daughters\nto the fiefs that are of right their own, you will win thereby the love\nof God as well as praise of the world.\"\n\nThey fall at his feet weeping, and pray him of mercy that they may not\nbe disherited.  And he raiseth them forthwith, as one that hath great\npity thereof.\n\n\"Damsels,\" saith he, \"I will aid you to my power.  But I would fain\nthat the term be not long.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" say they, \"to-morrow is the day, and to-morrow, so we have no\nknight to meet him that challengeth this castle, we shall have lost it.\nAnd our father is an old knight, and hath no longer lustihood nor force\nwhereby he might defend it for us, and all of our lineage are fallen\nand decayed.  This hatred hath fallen on us on account of Messire\nGawain, whom we harboured.\"\n\nLancelot lay there the night within the castle and was right well\nlodged and worshipfully entreated.  And on the morrow he armed himself\nwhen he had heard mass, and leant at the windows of the hall and seeth\nthe gate shut and barred, and heareth a horn sound without the gate\nthree times right loud.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Vavasour, \"the knight is come, and thinketh that\nwithin here is no defence.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Lancelot, \"but there is, please God!\"\n\nThe knight bloweth another blast of his horn.\n\n\"Hearken, Sir,\" saith the Vavasour, \"It is nigh noon, and he thinketh\nhim that none will issue hence to meet him.\"\n\n\nII.\n\nLancelot cometh down below and findeth his horse saddled and is mounted\nas soon.  The damsels are at his stirrup, and pray him for God's sake\nremember to defend the honour that is theirs of the castle, for, save\nonly he so doth, they must flee like beggars into other lands.\nThereupon the Knight soundeth his horn again.  Lancelot, when he\nheareth the blast, hath no mind to abide longer, and forthwith issueth\nout of the castle all armed, lance in hand and shield at his neck.  He\nseeth the knight at the head of the bridge, all armed under a tree.\nThitherward cometh Lancelot full speed.  The knight seeth him coming,\nand crieth to him.\n\n\"Sir Knight,\" saith he, \"What demand you?  Come you hither to do me\nevil?\"\n\n\"Yea,\" saith Lancelot, \"for that evil are you fain to do to this\ncastle; wherefore on behalf of the Vavasour and his daughters do I defy\nyou.\"\n\nHe moveth against the knight and smiteth him on the shield with his\nspear and the knight him.  But Lancelot pierceth his shield for him\nwith his sword, and smiteth him so stiffly that he pinneth his arm to\nhis side, and hurtleth against him so passing stoutly that he thrusteth\nhim to the ground, him and his horse, and runneth over him, sword drawn.\n\n\"Ha,\" saith the knight to Lancelot, \"withdraw a little from over me,\nand slay me not, and tell me your name, of your mercy.\"\n\n\"What have you to do with my name?\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Gladly would I know it, for a right good knight seem\nyou to be, and so have I well proven in the first encounter.\"\n\n\"Sir\" saith he, \"I am called Lancelot of the Lake.  And what is your\nname?\"\n\n\"Sir.\" saith he, \"I am called Marin of the castle of Gomeret.  So am\nI--father of Meliot of Logres.  I pray you, by that you most love in\nthe world, that you slay me not.\"\n\n\"So will I do,\" saith Lancelot, \"and you renounce not your feud against\nthis castle.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith the knight, \"thus do I renounce it, and I pledge\nmyself that thenceforth for ever shall it have no disturbance of me.\"\n\n\"Your pledge,\" saith Lancelot, \"will I not accept save you come in\nthither.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"You have sore wounded me in such sort that I\ncannot mount but with right great pain.\"\n\nLancelot helpeth him until he was mounted again on his horse, and\nleadeth him into the castle with him, and maketh him present his sword\nto the Vavasour and his daughters, and yield up his shield and his\narms, and afterward swear upon hallows that never again will he make\nwar upon them.  Lancelot thereupon receiveth his pledge to forego all\nclaim to the castle and Marin turneth him back to Gomeret.  The\nVavasour and his daughters abide in great joy.\n\n\nIII.\n\nThe story saith that Lancelot went his way by strange lands and by\nforests to seek adventure, and rode until he found a plain land lying\nwithout a city that seemed to be of right great lordship.  As he was\nriding by the plain land, he looketh toward the forest and seeth the\nplain fair and wide and the land right level.  He rideth all the plain,\nand looketh toward the city and seeth great plenty of folk issuing\nforth thereof.  And with them was there much noise of bag-pipes and\nflutes and viols and many instruments of music, and they came along the\nway wherein was Lancelot riding.  When the foremost came up to him,\nthey halted and redoubled their joy.\n\n\"Sir,\" say they, \"Welcome may you be!\"\n\n\"Lords,\" saith Lancelot, \"Whom come ye to meet with such joy?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" say they, \"they that come behind there will tell you clearly\nthat whereof we are in need.\"\n\n\nIV.\n\nThereupon behold you the provosts and the lords of the city, and they\ncome over against Lancelot.\n\n\"Sir,\" say they, \"All this joy is made along of you, and all these\ninstruments of music are moved to joy and sound of gladness for your\ncoming.\"\n\n\"But wherefore for me,\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"That shall you know well betimes,\" say they.  \"This city began to burn\nand to melt in one of the houses from the very same hour that our king\nwas dead, nor might the fire be quenched, nor never will be quenched\nuntil such time as we have a king that shall be lord of the city and of\nthe honour thereunto belonging, and on New Year's Day behoveth him to\nbe crowned in the midst of the fire, and then shall the fire be\nquenched, for otherwise may it never be put out nor extinguished.\nWherefore have we come to meet you to give you the royalty, for we have\nbeen told that you are a good knight.\"\n\n\"Lords,\" saith Lancelot, \"Of such a kingdom have I no need, and God\ndefend me from it.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" they say, \"You may not be defended thereof, for you come into\nthis land at hazard, and great grief would it be that so good land as\nyou see this is were burnt and melted away by the default of one single\nman, and the lordship is right great, and this will be right great\nworship to yourself, that on New Year's Day you should be crowned in\nthe fire and thus save this city and this great people, and thereof\nshall you have great praise.\"\n\n\nV.\n\nMuch marvelleth Lancelot of this that they say.  They come round about\nhim on all sides and lead him into the city.  The ladies and damsels\nare mounted to the windows of the great houses and make great joy, and\nsay the one to another, \"Look at the new king here that they are\nleading in.  Now will he quench the fire on New Year's Day.\"\n\n\"Lord!\" say the most part, \"What great pity is it of so comely a knight\nthat he shall end on such-wise!\"\n\n\"Be still!\" say the others.  \"Rather should there be great joy that so\nfair city as is this should be saved by his death, for prayer will be\nmade throughout all the kingdom for his soul for ever!\"\n\nTherewith they lead him to the palace with right great joy and say that\nthey will crown him.  Lancelot found the palace all strown with rushes\nand hung about with curtains of rich cloths of silk, and the lords of\nthe city all apparelled to do him homage. But he refuseth right\nstoutly, and saith that their king nor their lord will he never be in\nno such sort.  Thereupon behold you a dwarf that entereth into the\ncity, leading one of the fairest dames that be in any kingdom, and\nasketh whereof this joy and this murmuring may be.  They tell him they\nare fain to make the knight king, but that he is not minded to allow\nthem, and they tell him the whole manner of the fire.\n\n\nVI.\n\nThe dwarf and the damsel are alighted, then they mount up to the\npalace.  The dwarf calleth the provosts of the city and the greater\nlords.\n\n\"Lords,\" saith he, \"sith that this knight is not willing to be king, I\nwill be so willingly, and I will govern the city at your pleasure and\ndo whatsoever you have devised to do.\"\n\n\"In faith, sith that the knight refuseth this honour and you desire to\nhave it, willingly will we grant it you, and he may go his way and his\nroad, for herein do we declare him wholly quit.\"\n\nTherewithal they set the crown on the dwarf's head, and Lancelot maketh\ngreat joy thereof.  He taketh his leave, and they command him to God,\nand so remounteth he on his horse and goeth his way through the midst\nof the city all armed.  The dames and damsels say that he would not be\nking for that he had no mind to die so soon.  When he came forth of the\ncity right well pleased was he. He entereth a great forest and rideth\non till daylight began to fall, and seeth before him a hermitage newly\nstablished, for the house and the chapel were all builded new.  He\ncometh thitherward and alighteth to lodge.  The hermit, that was young\nwithout beard or other hair on his face, issued from his chapel.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he to Lancelot, \"you are he that is welcome.\"\n\n\"And you, sir, good adventure to you,\" saith Lancelot.  \"Never have I\nseen hermit so young as you.\"\n\n\"Sir, of this only do I repent me, that I came not hither ere now.\"\n\n\nVII.\n\nTherewith he maketh his horse be stabled, and leadeth him into his\nhermitage, and so maketh disarm him and setteth him at ease as much as\nhe may.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"Can you tell me any tidings of a knight that\nhath lain sick of a long time in the house of a hermit?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"it is no long time agone sithence I saw him in\nthe house of the good King Hermit, that hath tended me and healed me\nright sweetly of the wounds that the knight gave me.\"\n\n\"And is the knight healed, then?\" saith the hermit.\n\n\"Yea, Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"Whereof is right great joy.  And wherefore\ndo you ask me?\"\n\n\"Well ought I to ask it,\" saith the hermit, \"For my father is King\nPelles, and his mother is my father's own sister.\"\n\n\"Ha, Sir, then is the King Hermit your father?\"\n\n\"Yea, Sir, certes.\"\n\n\"Thereof do I love you the better,\" saith Lancelot, \"For never found I\nany man that hath done me so much of love as hath he. And what, Sir, is\nyour name?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"My name is Joseus, and yours, what?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"I am called Lancelot of the Lake.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"Right close are we akin, I and you.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Lancelot, \"Hereof am I right glad at heart.\"\n\nLancelot looketh and seeth in the hermit's house shield and spear,\njavelins and habergeon. \"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"What do you with these\narms?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"this forest is right lonely, and this hermitage is\nfar from any folk, and none are there here-within save me and my\nsquire.  So, when robbers come hither, we defend ourselves therewith.\"\n\n\"But hermits, methought, never assaulted nor wounded nor slew.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"God forbid I should wound any man or slay!\"\n\n\"And how, then, do you defend yourselves?\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"Sir, I will tell you thereof.  When robbers come to us, we arm\nourselves accordingly.  If I may catch hold of any in my hands, he\ncannot escape me.  Our squire is so well-grown and hardy that he\nslayeth him forthwith or handleth him in such sort that he may never\nhelp himself after.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Lancelot, \"Were you not hermit, you would be\nvaliant throughout.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the squire. \"You say true, for methinketh there is\nnone so strong nor so hardy as he in all the kingdom of Logres.\"\n\nThe lodged Lancelot the night the best he could.\n\n\nVIII.\n\nWhen as they were in their first sleep, come four robber-knights of the\nforest that knew how a knight was lodged therewithin, and had coveted\nhis horse and his arms.  The hermit that was in his chapel saw them\nfirst, and awoke his squire and made him bring his arms all secretly;\nthen he made his squire arm.  \"Sir,\" saith the squire, \"Shall I waken\nthe knight?\"\n\n\"In nowise,\" saith the hermit, \"until such time as we shall know\nwherefore.\"\n\nHe maketh open the door of the chapel and taketh a great coil of rope,\nand they issue forth, he and his squire, and they perceived the robbers\nin the stable where Lancelot's horse was.  The hermit crieth out: the\nsquire cometh forward and thereupon beareth one to the ground with his\nspear.  The hermit seizeth him and bindeth him to a tree so strait that\nhe may not move.  The other three think to defend them and to rescue\ntheir fellow.  Lancelot leapeth up all startled when he heareth the\nnoise and armeth himself as quickly as he may, albeit not so quickly\nbut that or ever he come, the hermit hath taken the other three and\nbound them with the fourth.  But of them were some that were wounded\nright sore.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit to Lancelot, \"It grieveth me that you have been\nawakened.\"\n\n\"Rather,\" saith Lancelot, \"have you done me great wrong for that you\nought to have awakened me sooner.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"We have assaults such as this often enough.\"\n\nThe four robbers cry mercy of Lancelot that he will pray the hermit to\nhave pity upon them.  And Lancelot saith God help not him that shall\nhave pity on thieves!  As soon as it was daylight, Lancelot and the\nsquire led them into the forest, their hands all tied behind their\nbacks, and have hanged them in a waste place far away from the\nhermitage.  Lancelot cometh back again and taketh leave of Joseus the\nyoung hermit, and saith it is great loss to the world that he is not\nknight.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the squire, \"to me is it great joy, for many a man should\nsuffer thereby.\"\n\nLancelot is mounted, and Joseus commendeth him to God, praying him much\nthat he salute his father and cousin on his behalf, and Messire Gawain\nlikewise that he met in the forest what time he came all weeping to the\nhermitage.\n\n\nIX.\n\nLancelot hath set him forth again upon his way, and rideth by the high\nforests and findeth holds and hermitages enough, but the story maketh\nnot remembrance of all the hostels wherein he harboured him.  So far\nhath he ridden that he is come forth of the forest and findeth a right\nfair meadow-land all loaded with flowers, and a river ran in the midst\nthere of that was right fair and broad, and there was forest upon the\none side and the other, and the meadow lands were wide and far betwixt\nthe river and the forest.  Lancelot looketh on the river before him and\nseeth a man rowing a great boat, and seeth within the boat two knights,\nwhite and bald, and a damsel, as it seemed him, that held in her lap\nthe head of a knight that lay upon a mattress of straw and was covered\nwith a coverlid of marten's fur, and another damsel sate at his feet.\nThere was a knight within in the midst of the boat that was fishing\nwith an angle, the rod whereof seemeth of gold, and right great fish he\ntook.  A little cock-boat followed the boat, wherein he set the fish he\ntook. Lancelot cometh anigh the bank the swiftest he may, and so\nsaluteth the knights and damsels, and they return his salute right\nsweetly.\n\n\"Lords,\" saith Lancelot, \"is there no castle nigh at hand nor no\nharbour?\"\n\n\"Yea, Sir,\" say they, \"Beyond that mountain, right fair and rich, and\nthis river runneth thither all round about it.\"\n\n\"Lords, whose castle is it?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" say they, \"It is King Fisherman's, and the good knights lodge\nthere when he is in this country; but such knights have been harboured\nthere as that the lord of the land hath had good right to plain him\nthereof.\"\n\nThe knights go rowing along the river, and Lancelot rideth until he\ncometh to the foot of the mountain and findeth a hermitage beside a\nspring, and bethinketh him, since it behoveth him to go to so high a\nhostel and so rich, where the Holy Graal appeareth, he will confess him\nto the good man.  He alighteth and confesseth to the good man, and\nrehearseth all his sins, and saith that of all thereof doth he repent\nhim save only one, and the hermit asketh him what it is whereof he is\nunwilling to repent.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"it seemeth to me the fairest sin and the\nsweetest that ever I committed.\"\n\n\"Fair Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"Sin is sweet to do, but right bitter be\nthe wages thereof; neither is there any sin that is fair nor seemly,\nalbeit there be some sins more dreadfuller than other.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"this sin will I reveal to you of my lips, but\nof my heart may I never repent me thereof.  I love my Lady, which is\nthe Queen, more than aught else that liveth, and albeit one of the best\nKings on live hath her to wife.  The affection seemeth me so good and\nso high that I cannot let go thereof, for, so rooted is it in my heart\nthat thence may it nevermore depart, and the best knighthood that is in\nme cometh to me only of her affection.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" saith the hermit, \"Sinner of mortal sin, what is this that you\nhave spoken?  Never may no knighthood come of such wantonness that\nshall not cost you right dear!  A traitor are you toward our earthly\nlord, and a murderer toward Our Saviour.  Of the seven deadly sins, you\nare labouring under the one whereof the delights are the falsest of\nany, wherefore dearly shall you aby thereof, save you repent you\nforthwith.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"never the more do I desire to cast it from me.\"\n\n\"As much,\" saith the hermit, \"is that as to say that you ought long\nsince to have cast it from you and renounced it.  For so long as you\nmaintain it, so long are you an enemy of the Saviour!\"\n\n\"Ha, Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"She hath in her such beauty and worth and\nwisdom and courtesy and nobleness that never ought she to be forgotten\nof any that hath loved her!\"\n\n\nX.\n\n\"The more of beauty and worth she hath in her,\" saith the hermit, \"so\nmuch the more blame hath she of that she doeth, and you likewise.  For\nof that which is of little worth is the loss not so great as of that\nwhich is much worth.  And this is a Queen, blessed and anointed, that\nwas thus, therefore, in her beginning vowed to God; yet now is she\ngiven over to the Devil of her love for you, and you of your love for\nher.  Fair, sweet my friend,\" saith the hermit, \"Let go this folly,\nwhich is so cruel, that you have taken in hand, and be repentant of\nthese sins!  So every day will I pray to the Saviour for you, that so\ntruly as He pardoned His death to him that smote Him with a lance in\nHis side, so may He pardon you of this sin that you have maintained,\nand that so you be repentant and truly confessed thereof, I may take\nthe penance due thereunto upon myself!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"I thank you much, but I am not minded to\nrenounce it, nor have I no wish to speak aught wherewith my heart\naccordeth not.  I am willing enough to do penance as great as is\nenjoined of this sin, but my lady the Queen will I serve so long as it\nmay be her pleasure, and I may have her good will.  So dearly do I love\nher that I wish not even that any will should come to me to renounce\nher love, and God is so sweet and so full of right merciful mildness,\nas good men bear witness, that He will have pity upon us, for never no\ntreason have I done toward her, nor she toward me.\"\n\n\"Ha, fair sweet friend,\" saith the hermit, \"Nought may you avail you of\nwhatsoever I may say, wherefore God grant her such will and you also,\nthat you may be able to do the will of Our Saviour. But so much am I\nfain to tell you, that and if you shall lie in the hostel of King\nFisherman, yet never may you behold the Graal for the mortal sin that\nlieth at your heart.\"\n\n\"May our Lord God,\" saith Lancelot, \"counsel me therein at His pleasure\nand at His will!\"\n\n\"So may He do!\" saith the hermit, \"For of a truth you may know thereof\nam I right fain.\"\n\n\nXI.\n\nLancelot taketh leave of the hermit, and is mounted forthwith and\ndeparteth from the hermitage.  And evening draweth on, and he seeth\nthat it is time to lodge him.  And he espieth before him the castle of\nthe rich King Fisherman.  He seeth the bridges, broad and long, but\nthey seem not to him the same as they had seemed to Messire Gawain.  He\nbeholdeth the rich entrance of the gateway there where Our Lord God was\nfigured as He was set upon the rood, and seeth two lions that guard the\nentrance of the gate.  Lancelot thinketh that sith Messire Gawain had\npassed through amidst the lions, he would do likewise.  He goeth toward\nthe gateway, and the lions that were unchained prick up their ears and\nlook at him.  Howbeit Lancelot goeth his way between them without\nheeding them, and neither of them was fain to do him any hurt.  He\nalighteth before the master-palace, and mounteth upward all armed.  Two\nother knights come to meet him and receive him with right great joy,\nthen they make him be seated on a couch in the midst of the hall and be\ndisarmed of two servants.  Two damsels bring him a right rich robe and\nmake him be apparelled therewithal.  Lancelot beholdeth the richness of\nthe hall and seeth nought figured there save images of saints, men or\nwomen, and he seeth the hall hung about with cloths of silk in many\nplaces.  The knights lead him before King Fisherman in a chamber where\nhe lay right richly.  He findeth the King, that lieth on a bed so rich\nand so fair apparelled as never was seen a better, and one damsel was\nat his head and another at his feet.  Lancelot saluteth him right\nnobly, and the King answereth him full fairly as one that is a right\nworshipful man.  And such a brightness of light was there in the\nchamber as that it seemed the sun were beaming on all sides, and albeit\nthe night was dark, no candles, so far as Lancelot might espy, were\nlighted therewithin.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith King Fisherman, \"Can you tell me tidings of my sister's\nson, that was son of Alain li Gros of the Valleys of Camelot, whom they\ncall Perceval?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"I saw him not long time sithence in the house\nof King Hermit, his uncle.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the King, \"They tell me he is a right good knight?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"He is the best knight of the world.  I myself\nhave felt the goodness of his knighthood and his valour, for right\nsorely did he wound me or ever I knew him or he me.\"\n\n\"And what is your name?\" saith the King.\n\n\"Sir, I am called Lancelot of the Lake, King Ban's son of Benoic.\"\n\n\"Ha,\" saith the King, \"you are nigh of our lineage, you ought to be\ngood knight of right, and so are you as I have heard witness,\nLancelot,\" saith the King.  \"Behold there the chapel where the most\nHoly Graal taketh his rest, that appeared to two knights that have been\nherewithin.  I know not what was the name of the first, but never saw I\nany so gentle and quiet, nor had better likelihood to be good knight.\nIt was through him that I have fallen into languishment.  The second\nwas Messire Gawain.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"the first was Perceval your nephew.\"\n\n\"Ha!\" saith King Fisherman, \"take heed that you speak true!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"I ought to know him well!\"\n\n\"Ha, God!\" saith the King, \"Wherefore then did I know him not? Through\nhim have I fallen into this languishment, and had I only known then\nthat it was he, should I now be all whole of my limbs and of my body,\nand right instantly do I pray you, when you shall see him, that he come\nto see me or ever I die, and that he be fain to succour and help his\nmother, whose men have been slain, and whose land hath been reaved in\nsuch sort that never may she have it again save by him alone.  And his\nsister hath gone in quest of him throughout all kingdoms.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"This will I tell him gladly, if ever I may find\nhim in any place, but it is great adventure of finding him, for\noft-times will he change his cognizance in divers fashion and conceal\nhis name in many places.\"\n\n\nXII.\n\nKing Fisherman is right joyous of the tidings he hath heard of his\nnephew, wherefore he maketh Lancelot be honoured greatly. The knights\nseat them in the hall at a table of ivory at meat, and the King\nremaineth in his chamber.  When they had washen, the table was dight of\nrich sets of vessels of gold and silver, and they were served of rich\nmeats of venison of hart and wild boar. But the story witnesseth that\nthe Graal appeared not at this feast.  It held not aloof for that\nLancelot was not one of the three knights of the world of the most\nrenown and mightiest valour, but for his great sin as touching the\nQueen, whom he loved without repenting him thereof, for of nought did\nhe think so much as of her, nor never might he remove his heart\ntherefrom. When they had eaten they rose from the tables.  Two damsels\nwaited on Lancelot at his going to bed, and he lay on a right rich\ncouch, nor were they willing to depart until such time as he was\nasleep.  He rose on the morrow as soon as he saw the day, and went to\nhear mass.  Then he took leave of King Fisherman and the knights and\ndamsels, and issued forth of the castle between the two lions, and\nprayeth God that He allow him to see the Queen again betimes, for this\nis his most desire.  He rideth until he hath left the castle far behind\nand entereth the forest, and is in right great desire to see Perceval,\nbut the tidings of him were right far away.  He looketh before him in\nthe forest and seeth come right amidst the launde a knight, and a\ndamsel clad in the richest robe of gold and silk that ever he had seen\ntofore.\n\n\nXIII.\n\nThe damsel came weeping by the side of the knight and prayed him\noftentimes that he would have mercy upon her.  The knight is still and\nholdeth his peace, and saith never a word.\n\n\"Ha, Sir,\" saith the damsel to Lancelot, \"Be pleased to beseech this\nknight on my behalf.\"\n\n\"In what manner?\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I will tell you.  He hath shown me semblance of love\nfor more than a year, and had me in covenant that he would take me to\nwife, and I apparelled myself in the richest garments that I had to\ncome to him.  But my father is of greater power and riches than is he,\nand therefore was not willing to allow the marriage.  Wherefore come I\nwith him in this manner, for I love him better than ever another knight\nbeside.  Now will he do nought of that he had me in covenant to do, for\nhe loveth another, better, methinketh, than me.  And this hath he done,\nas I surmise, to do shame to my friends and to me.\"\n\nLancelot seeth the damsel of right great beauty and weeping tenderly,\nwhereof hath he passing great pity.\n\n\"Hold, Sir!\" saith Lancelot to the knight, \"this shall you not do!  You\nshall not do such shame to so fair a damsel as that you shall fail to\nkeep covenant with her.  For not a knight is there in the kingdom of\nLogres nor in that of Wales but ought to be right well pleased to have\nso fair a damsel to wife, and I pray and require that you do to the\ndamsel that whereof you held her in covenant.  This will be a right\nworshipful deed, and I pray and beseech that you do it, and thereof\nshall I be much beholden unto you.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"I have no will thereunto, nor for no man will\nI do it, for ill would it beseem me.\"\n\n\"By my head, then,\" saith Lancelot, \"the basest knight are you that\never have I seen, nor ought dame nor damsel ever hereafter put trust in\nyou, sith that you are minded to put such disgrace upon this lady.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"a worthier lover have I than this, and one\nthat I more value; wherefore as touching this damsel will I do nought\nmore than I have said.\"\n\n\"And whither, then, mean you to take her?\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"I mean to take her to a hold of mine own that is in this forest, and\nto give her in charge to a dwarf of mine that looketh after my house,\nand I will marry her to some knight or some other man.\"\n\n\"Now never God help me,\" saith Lancelot, \"but this is foul churlishness\nyou tell me, and, so you do not her will, it shall betide you ill of me\nmyself, and, had you been armed as I am, you should have felt my first\nonset already.\"\n\n\"Ha,\" saith the damsel to Lancelot, \"Be not so ready to do him any\nhurt, for nought love I so well as I love his body, whatsoever he do\nunto me.  But for God's sake pray him that he do me the honour he hath\npromised me.\"\n\n\"Willingly,\" saith Lancelot.  \"Sir Knight, will you do this whereof you\nhad the damsel in covenant?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"I have told you plainly that I will not.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Lancelot, \"you shall do it, or otherwise sentence\nof death hath passed upon you, and this not so much for the sake of the\ndamsel only, but for the churlishness that hath taken possession of\nyou, that it be not a reproach to other knights.  For promise that\nknight maketh to dame or damsel behoveth him to keep.  And you, as you\ntell me, are knight, and no knight ought to do churlishly to his\nknowledge, and this churlishness is so far greater than another, that\nfor no prayer that the damsel may make will I suffer that it shall be\ndone, but that if you do not that whereof you held her in covenant, I\nshall slay you, for that I will not have this churlishness made a\nreproach unto other knights.\"\n\nHe draweth his sword and would have come toward him, when the knight\ncometh over against him and saith to him: \"Slay me not. Tell me rather\nwhat you would have me do?\"\n\n\"I would,\" saith he, \"that you take the damsel to wife without denial.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"it pleaseth me better to take her than to die. Sir, I\nwill do your will.\"\n\n\"I thank you much therefor,\" saith Lancelot. \"Damsel, is this your\npleasure also?\"\n\n\"Yea, Sir, but, so please you, take not your departure from us until\nsuch time as he shall have done that which you tell him.\"\n\n\"I will, well that so it be,\" saith Lancelot, \"for love of you.\"\n\nThey ride together right through the forest, until they came to a\nchapel at a hermitage, and the hermit wedded them and made much joy\nthereof.  When it cometh to after-mass, Lancelot would fain depart, but\nthe damsel prayeth him right sweetly that he should come right to her\nfather's house to witness that the knight had wedded her.\n\n\nXIV.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"My father's hold is not far away.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Lancelot, \"Willingly will I go sith that you beseech me\nthereof.\"\n\nThey ride so long right amidst the forest, that presently they come to\nthe castle of the Vavasour, that was sitting on the bridge of his\ncastle, right sorrowful and troubled because of his daughter.  Lancelot\nis gone on before and alighteth.  The Vavasour riseth up to meet him,\nand Lancelot recounteth unto him how his daughter hath been wedded, and\nthat he hath been at the wedding.  Thereof the Vavasour maketh right\ngreat joy. Therewithal, behold you, the knight and the Vavasour's\ndaughter that are straightway alighted, and the Vavasour thanketh\nLancelot much of the honour he hath done his daughter.  Therewith he\ndeparteth from the castle and rideth amidst the forest the day long,\nand meeteth a damsel and a dwarf that came a great gallop.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel to Lancelot, \"From whence come you?\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"I come from the Vavasour's castle that is in this\nforest.\"\n\n\"Did you meet,\" saith she, \"a knight and a damsel on your way?\"\n\n\"Yea,\" saith Lancelot, \"He hath wedded her.\"\n\n\"Say you true?\" saith she.\n\n\"I tell you true,\" saith Lancelot, \"But had I not been there, he would\nnot have wedded her.\"\n\n\"Shame and ill adventure may you have thereof, for you have reft me of\nthe thing in the world that most I loved.  And know you well of a truth\nthat joy of him shall she never have, and if the knight had been armed\nas are you, never would he have done your will, but his own.  And this\nis not the first harm you have done me; you and Messire Gawain between\nyou have slain my uncle and my two cousins-german in the forest, whom\nbehoved me bury in the chapel where you were, there where my dwarf that\nyou see here was making the graves in the burial-ground.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Lancelot, \"true it is that I was there, but I departed\nfrom the grave-yard, honour safe.\"\n\n\"True,\" saith the dwarf, \"For the knights that were there were craven,\nand failed.\"\n\n\"Fair friend,\" saith Lancelot, \"Rather would I they should be coward\ntoward me than hardy.\"\n\n\"Lancelot,\" saith the damsel, \"Much outrage have you done, for you slew\nthe Knight of the Waste House, there whither the brachet led Messire\nGawain, but had he there been known, he would not have departed so\nsoon, for he was scarce better loved than you, and God grant you may\nfind a knight that may abate the outrages that are in your heart and in\nhis; for great rejoicing would there be thereof, for many a good knight\nhave you slain, and I myself will bring about trouble for you, so\nquickly as I may.\"\n\n\nXV.\n\nThereupon the dwarf smiteth the mule with his whip, and she departeth.\nLancelot would answer none of her reviling, wherefore he departed\nforthwith, and rideth so long on his journeys that he is come back to\nthe house of the good King Hermit, that maketh right great joy of him.\nAnd he telleth him that he hath been unto the house of King Fisherman,\nhis brother that lieth in languishment, and telleth him also how he\nhath been honoured in his hostel, and of the salutations that he sent\nhim.  King Hermit is right joyous thereof, and asketh him of his\nnephew, and he telleth him he hath seen him not since he departed\nthence.  King Hermit asketh him whether he hath seen the Graal, and he\ntelleth him he hath seen it not at all.\n\n\"I know well,\" saith the King, \"wherefore this was so.  And you had had\nthe like desire to see the Graal that you have to see the Queen, the\nGraal would you have seen.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"The Queen do I desire to see for the sake of\nher good intent, her wisdom, courtesy and worth, and so ought every\nknight to do.  For in herself hath she all honourable conditions that a\nlady may have.\"\n\n\"God grant you good issue therein,\" saith King Hermit, \"and that you do\nnought whereof He may visit you with His wrath at the Day of Judgment.\"\n\nLancelot lay the night in the hermitage, and on the morrow departed\nthence and took leave when he had heard mass, and cometh back as\nstraight as he may to Pannenoisance on the sea of Wales, where were the\nKing and Queen with great plenty of knights and barons.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XI.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nThis High History witnesseth whereof this account cometh, and saith\nthat Perceval is in the kingdom of Logres, and came great pace toward\nthe land of the Queen of the Tents to release the Damsel of the Car,\nthat he had left in hostage on account of Clamados, that had put upon\nhim the treason whereof behoved him to defend himself.  But, or ever he\nentered into the land of the Queen of the Tents, he met the Damsel of\nthe Car that was coming thence.  She made right great joy of him, and\ntold him that Clamados was dead of the wound that Meliot of Logres had\ndealt him, and that Meliot of Logres was heal.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"The tents and the awnings are taken down, and the\nQueen hath withdrawn herself to the castle with her maidens, and by my\ncoming back from thence may you well know that you are altogether quit.\nWherefore I tell you that your sister goeth in quest of you, and that\nnever had your mother so sore need of help as now she hath, nor never\nagain shall your sister have joy at heart until such time as she shall\nhave found you.  She goeth seeking for you by all the kingdoms and\nstrange countries in sore mis-ease, nor may she find any to tell her\ntidings of you.\"\n\nTherewith Perceval departeth from the Damsel, without saying more, and\nrideth until he cometh into the kingdom of Wales to a castle that is\nseated above the sea upon a high rock, and it was called the Castle of\nTallages.  He seeth a knight issue from the castle and asketh whose\nhold it is, and he telleth him that it belonged to the Queen of the\nMaidens.  He entereth into the first baby of the castle, and alighteth\nat the mounting-stage and setteth down his shield and his spear, and\nlooketh toward the steps whereby one goeth up to the higher hall, and\nseeth upon them row upon row of knights and damsels.  He cometh\nthitherward, but never a knight nor dame was there that gave him\ngreeting of any kind.  So he saluted them at large.  He went his way\nright amidst them toward the door of the great hall, which he findeth\nshut, and rattled the ring so loud that it made the whole hall resound\nthereof.  A knight cometh to open it and he entereth in.\n\n\"Sir Knight, welcome may you be!\"\n\n\"Good adventure may you have!\" saith Perceval.\n\nHe lowereth his ventail and taketh off his helm.  The knight leadeth\nhim to the Queen's chamber, and she riseth to meet him, and maketh\ngreat joy of him, and maketh him sit beside her all armed.\n\n\nII.\n\nWith that, cometh a damsel and kneeleth before the Queen and saith:\n\"Lady, behold here the knight that was first at the Graal. I saw him in\nthe court of the Queen of the Tents, there where he was appeached of\ntreason and murder.\"\n\n\"Now haste,\" saith the Queen to the knight, \"Let sound the ivory horn\nupon the castle.\"\n\nThe knights and damsels that were sitting on the steps leapt up, and\nmake right great joy, and the other knights likewise.  They say that\nnow they know well that they have done their penance. Thereupon they\nenter into the hall, and the Lady issueth from her chamber and taketh\nPerceval by the hand and goeth to meet them.\n\n\"Behold here,\" saith she, \"the knight through whom you have had the\npain and travail, and by whom you are now released therefrom!\"\n\n\"Ha!\" say the knights and dames, \"welcome may he be!\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the Queen, \"so is he, for he is the knight of the\nworld that I had most desire to see.\"\n\nShe maketh disarm him, and bring the rich robe of cloth of silk to\napparel him. \"Sir,\" saith the Queen, \"Four knights and three damsels\nhave been under the steps at the entrance of the hall ever since such\ntime as you were at the hostel of King Fisherman, there where you\nforgot to ask whereof the Graal might serve, nor never since have they\nhad none other house nor hold wherein to eat nor to drink nor to lie,\nnor never since have they had no heart to make joy, nor would not now\nand you had not come hither. Wherefore ought you not to marvel that\nthey make joy of your coming.  Howbeit, on the other hand, sore need\nhave we in this castle of your coming, for a knight warreth upon me\nthat is brother of King Fisherman, and his name is the King of Castle\nMortal.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"He is my uncle, albeit I knew it not of a long time,\nnor of the good King Fisherman either, and the good King Hermit is my\nuncle also.  But I tell you of a very truth, the King of Castle Mortal\nis the most fell and cruel that liveth, wherefore ought none to love\nhim for the felony that is in him, for he hath begun to war upon King\nFisherman my uncle, and challengeth him his castle, and would fain have\nthe Lance and the Graal.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Queen, \"in like sort challengeth he my castle of me\nfor that I am in aid of King Fisherman, and every week cometh he to an\nisland that is in this sea, and oft-times cometh plundering before this\ncastle and hath slain many of my knights and damsels, whereof God grant\nus vengeance upon him.\"\n\nShe taketh Perceval by the hand and leadeth him to the windows of the\nhall that were nighest the sea.  \"Sir,\" saith she, \"Now may you see the\nisland, there, whereunto your uncle cometh in a galley, and in this\nisland sojourneth he until he hath seen where to aim his blow and laid\nhis plans.  And here below, see, are my gallies that defend us thereof.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nPerceval, as the history telleth, was much honoured at the castle of\nthe Queen of the Maidens, that was right passing fair.  The Queen loved\nhim of a passing great love, but well she knew that she should never\nhave her desire, nor any dame nor damsel that might set her intent\nthereon, for chaste was he and in chastity was fain to die.  So long\nwas he at the castle as that he heard tell his uncle was arrived at the\nisland whither he wont to come. Perceval maketh arm him forthwith and\nentereth into a galley below the hall, and maketh him be rowed toward\nhis uncle, that much marvelleth when he seeth him coming, for never\naforetime durst no knight issue out alone from this castle to meet him,\nnor to come there where he was, body to body.  But had he known that it\nwas Perceval, he would not have marvelled.  Thereupon the galley taketh\nthe ground and Perceval is issued forth.  The Queen and the knights and\nher maidens are come to the windows of the castle to behold the bearing\nof the nephew and the uncle.  The Queen would have sent over some of\nher knights with him, but Perceval would not.  The King of Castle\nMortal was tall and strong and hardy.  He seeth his nephew come all\narmed, but knoweth him not.  But Perceval knew him well, and kept his\nsword drawn and his shield on his arm, and sought out his uncle with\nright passing wrathfulness, and dealeth him a heavy buffet above upon\nhis helm that he maketh him stoop withal.  Howbeit, the King spareth\nhim not, but smiteth him so passing stoutly that he had his helm all\ndinted in thereby.  But Perceval attacketh him again, thinking to\nstrike him above on the head, but the King swerveth aside and the blow\nfalleth on the shield and cleaveth it right down as far as the boss.\nThe King of Castle Mortal draweth him backward and hath great shame\nwithin himself for that Perceval should thus fettle him, for he\nsearcheth him with his sword in every part, and dealeth him great\nbuffets in such sort that, and his habergeon had not been so strong and\ntough, he would have wounded him in many places.\n\n\nIV.\n\nThe King himself giveth him blows so heavy that the Queen and all they\nthat were at the windows marvelled how Perceval might abide such\nbuffets.  The King took witting of the shield that Perceval bare, and\nlooketh on it of a long space.\n\n\"Knight,\" saith he, \"who gave you this shield, and on behalf of whom do\nyou bear such an one?\"\n\n\"I bear it on behalf of my father,\" saith he.\n\n\"Did your father, then, bear a red shield with a white hart?\"\n\n\"Yea,\" saith Perceval, \"Many a day.\"\n\n\"Was your father, then, King Alain of the Valleys of Camelot?\"\n\n\"My father was he without fail.  No blame ought I to have of him, for a\ngood knight was he and a loyal.\"\n\n\"Are you the son of Yglais my sister, that was his wife?\"\n\n\"Yea!\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Then are you my nephew,\" saith the King of Castle Mortal, \"For she was\nmy sister.\"\n\n\"That misliketh me,\" saith Perceval, \"For thereof have I neither\nworship nor honour, for the most disloyal are you of all my kindred,\nand I knew well when I came hither that it was you, and, for the great\ndisloyalty that is in you, you war upon the best King that liveth and\nthe most worshipful man, and upon the Lady of this castle for that she\naideth him in all that she may.  But, please God, henceforward she\nshall have no need to guard her to the best of her power against so\nevil a man as are you, nor shall her castle never be obedient to you,\nnor the sacred hallows that the good King hath in his keeping.  For God\nloveth not you so much as He doth him, and so long as you war upon him,\nyou do I defy and hold you as mine enemy.\"\n\nThe King wotteth well that his nephew holdeth him not over dear, and\nthat he is eager to do him a hurt, and that he holdeth his sword in his\nfist and that he is well roofed-in of his helmet, and that he is raging\nlike a lion.  He misdoubteth him sore of his strength and his great\nhardiment.  He hath well proven and essayed that he is the Best Knight\nof the world.  He durst no longer abide his blows, but rather he\nturneth him full speed toward his galley, and leapeth thereinto\nforthwith.  He pusheth out from the shore incontinent, and Perceval\nfolloweth him right to the beach, full heavy that he hath gotten him\naway.  Then he crieth after him: \"Evil King, tell me not that I am of\nyour kindred!  Never yet did knight of my mother's lineage flee from\nother knight, save you alone!  Now have I conquered this island, and\nnever on no day hereafter be you so over-hardy as be seen therein\nagain!\"\n\nThe King goeth his way as he that hath no mind to return, and Perceval\ncometh back again in his galley to the Queen's castle, and all they of\nthe palace come forth to meet him with great joy. The Queen asketh him\nhow it is with him and whether he is wounded?\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"Not at all, thank God.\"\n\nShe maketh disarm him, and honoureth him at her pleasure, and\ncommandeth that all be obedient to him, and do his commandment so long\nas he shall please to be there.  Now feel they safer in the castle for\nthat the king hath so meanly departed thence, and it well seemeth them\nthat never will he dare come back for dread of his nephew more than of\nany other, whereof make they much joy in common.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XII.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nNow is the story silent about Perceval, and saith that King Arthur is\nat Pannenoisance in Wales with great plenty of knights. Lancelot and\nMessire Gawain are repaired thither, whereof all the folk make great\njoy.  The King asketh of Messire Gawain and Lancelot whether they have\nseen Lohot his son in none of these islands nor in none of these\nforests, and they answer him that they have seen him nowhere.\n\n\"I marvel much,\" saith the King, \"what hath become of him, for no\ntidings have I heard of him beyond these, that Kay the Seneschal slew\nLogrin the giant, whose head he brought me, whereof I made great joy,\nand right willingly did I make Kay's lands the broader thereof, and\nwell ought I to do him such favour, for he avenged me of him that did\nmy land more hurt than any other, wherefore I love him greatly.\"\n\nBut, and the King had only known how Kay had wrought against him, he\nwould not have so highly honoured his chivalry and his hardiment.  The\nKing sate one day at meat and Queen Guenievre at his side.  Thereupon\nbehold you, a damsel that alighteth before the palace, then mounteth\nthe steps of the hall and is come before the King and the Queen.\n\n\"Sir, I salute you as the sorest dismayed and most discounselled damsel\nthat ever you have seen!  Wherefore am I come to demand a boon of you\nfor the nobleness and valour of your heart.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"God counsel you of His will and pleasure,\nand I myself am full fain to partake therein.\"\n\nThe damsel looketh at the shield that hangeth in the midst of the hall.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I beseech you that you deign grant me the aid of the\nknight that shall bear this shield from hence.  For sorer need have I\nthereof than ever another of them that are discounselled.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Full well shall I be pleased, so the knight\nbe also fain to do as you say.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"And he be so good knight as he is reported, never\nwill he refuse your prayer, nor would he mine, if only I were here at\nsuch time as he shall come.  For, had I been able to find my brother\nthat I have been seeking this long time, then well should I have been\nsuccoured long agone!  But I have sought him in many lands, nor never\ncould I learn where he is. Therefore to my sorrow, behoveth me to ride\nall lonely by the strange islands and put my body in jeopardy of death,\nwhereof ought these knights to have great pity.\"\n\n\nII.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"For this reason do I refuse you nought of\nthat you wish, and right willingly will I put myself to trouble herein.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"much thanks to God thereof!\"\n\nHe maketh her be set at meat, and much honour be done her.  When the\ncloths were drawn, the Queen leadeth her into her chamber with the\nmaidens, and maketh much joy of her.  The brachet that was brought\nthither with the shield was lying on a couch of straw.  He would not\nknow the Queen nor her damsels nor the knights that were in the court,\nbut so soon as ever he heard the damsel he cometh to her and maketh\ngreater joy of her than ever was brachet seen to make before.  The\nQueen and her damsels marvelled much thereof, as did the damsel herself\nto whom the brachet made such joy, for never since that he was brought\ninto the hall had they seen him rejoice of any.  The Queen asked her\nwhether she knew him.\n\n\"Certes, Lady, no, for never, so far as I know, have I seen him before.\"\n\nThe brachet will not leave her, but will be always on her lap, nor can\nshe move anywhither but he followeth her.  The damsel is long time in\nthe court in this manner, albeit as she that had sore need of succour\nshe remained in the chapel every day after that the Queen was come\nforth, and wept right tenderly before the image of the Saviour, and\nprayed right sweetly that His Mother would counsel her, for that she\nhad been left in sore peril of losing her castle.  The Queen asked her\none day who her brother was.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith she, \"one of the best knights of the world, whereof have\nI heard witness.  But he departed from my father's and mother's hostel\na right young squire.  My father is since dead, and my Lady mother is\nleft without help and without counsel, wherefore hath a certain man\nreaved her of her land and her castles and slain her men.  The very\ncastle wherein she hath her hold would he have seized long agone had it\nnot been for Messire Gawain that made it be safe-guarded against her\nenemies for a year.  The term is now ended and my Lady mother is in\ndread lest she shall lose her castle, for none other hold hath she.\nWherefore is it that she hath sent me to seek for my brother, for she\nhath been told that he is a good knight, and for that I may not find\nhim am I come to this court to beseech of King Arthur succour of the\nknight that shall bear away the shield, for I have heard tell that he\nis the Best knight of the world; and, for the bounty that is in him\nwill he therefore have pity on me.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the Queen, \"Would that you had found him, for great joy\nwould it be unto me that your mother were succoured, and God grant that\nhe that ought to bear the shield come quickly, and grant him courage\nthat he be fain to succour your mother.\"\n\n\"So shall he be, please God, for never was good knight that was without\npity.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nThe Queen hath much pity of the damsel, for she was of right great\nbeauty, and well might it be seen by her cheer and her semblant that no\njoy had she.  She had told the Queen her name and the name of her\nfather and mother, and the Queen told her that many a time had she\nheard tell of Alain li Gros, and that he was said to be a worshipful\nman and good knight.  The King lay one night beside the Queen, and was\nawoke from his first sleep so that he might not go to sleep again.  He\nrose and did on a great grey cape and issueth forth of the chamber and\ncometh to the windows of the hall that opened toward the sea, calm and\nuntroubled, so that much pleasure had he of looking thereat and leaning\nat the windows.  When he had been there of a long space, he looked out\nto sea and saw coming afar off as it were the shining of a candle in\nthe midst of the sea.  Much he marvelled what it might be.  He looked\nat it until he espied what seemed him to be a ship wherein was the\nlight, and he was minded not to move until such time as he should know\nwhether a ship it were or something other.  The longer he looketh at\nit, the better perceiveth he that it is a ship, and that it was coming\nwith great rushing toward the castle as fast as it might.  The King\nespieth it nigh at hand, but none seeth he within nor without save one\nold man, ancient and bald, of right passing seemliness that held the\nrudder of the ship.  The ship was covered of a right rich cloth in the\nmidst and the sail was lowered, for the sea was calm and quiet.  The\nship was arrived under the palace and was quite still.  When the ship\nhad taken ground, the King looketh thereat with much marvelling, and\nknoweth not who is there within, for not a soul heareth he speak.  Him\nthinketh that he will go see what is within the ship, and he issueth\nforth of the hall, and cometh thither where the ship was arrived, but\nhe might not come anigh for the flowing of the sea.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he that held the rudder, \"Allow me a little!\"\n\nHe launcheth forth of the ship a little boat, and the King entereth\nthereinto, and so cometh into the great ship, and findeth a knight that\nlay all armed upon a table of ivory, and had set his shield at his\nhead.  At the head of his bed had he two tall twisted links of wax in\ntwo candlesticks of gold, and the like at his feet, and his hands were\ncrossed upon his breast. The King draweth nigh toward him and so\nlooketh at him, and seemed him that never had he seen so comely a\nknight.\n\n\nIV.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the master of the ship, \"For God's sake draw you back and\nlet the knight rest, for thereof hath he sore need.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the King, \"who is the knight?\"\n\n\"Sir, this would he well tell you were he willing, but of me may you\nknow it not.\"\n\n\"Will he depart forthwith from hence?\" saith the King.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the master, \"Not before he hath been in this hall, but he\nhath had sore travail and therefore he taketh rest.\"\n\nWhen the King heard say that he would come into his palace, thereof had\nhe great joy.  He cometh to the Queen's chamber and telleth her how the\nship is arrived.  The Queen riseth and two of her damsels with her, and\napparelleth her of a kirtle of cloth of silk, furred of ermine, and\ncometh into the midst of the hall. Thereupon behold you, the knight\nthat cometh all armed and the master of the ship before him bearing the\ntwisted link of wax in the candlestick of gold in front of him, and the\nknight held his sword all naked.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Queen, \"Well may you be welcome!\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"God grant you joy and good adventure.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Please God we have nought to fear of you?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"No fear ought you to have!\"\n\nThe King seeth that he beareth the red shield with the white hart\nwhereof he had heard tell.  The brachet that was in the hall heareth\nthe knight.  He cometh racing toward him and leapeth about his legs and\nmaketh great joy of him.  And the knight playeth with him, then taketh\nthe shield that hung at the column, and hangeth the other there, and\ncometh back thereafter toward the door of the hall.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the King, \"Pray the knight that he go not so hastily.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"No leisure have I to abide, but at some time\nshall you see me again.\"\n\nThe knights also say as much, and the King and Queen are right heavy of\nhis departure, but they durst not press him beyond his will.  He is\nentered into the ship, and the brachet with him. The master draweth the\nboat within, and so they depart and leave the castle behind.  King\nArthur abideth at Pannenoisance, and is right sorrowful of the knight,\nthat he hath gone his way so soon. The knights arose throughout the\ncastle when the day waxed light, and learnt the tidings of the knight\nthat had borne the shield thence, and were right grieved for that they\nhad not seen him. The damsel that had asked the boon cometh to the King.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Did you speak of my business to the knight?\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Never a whit!  to my sorrow, for he hath\ndeparted sooner than I would!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"You have done a wrong and a sin, but, please God, so\ngood a King as are you shall not fail of his covenants to damsel so\nforlorn as am I.\"\n\nThe King was right sorrowful for that he had remembered not the damsel.\nShe departeth from the court, and taketh leave of the King and Queen,\nand saith that she herself will go seek the knight, and that, so she\nmay find him, she will hold the King quit of his covenant.  Messire\nGawain and Lancelot are returned to the court, and have heard the\ntidings of the knight that hath carried away the shield, and are right\ngrieved that they have not seen him, and Messire Gawain more than\nenough, for that he had lien in his mother's house.  Lancelot seeth the\nshield that he had left on the column, and knoweth it well, and saith,\n\"Now know I well that Perceval hath been here, for this shield was he\nwont to bear, and the like also his father bore.\"\n\n\"Ha,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"What ill-chance have I that I may not see\nthe Good Knight!\"\n\n\"Messire Gawain,\" saith Lancelot, \"So nigh did I see him that methought\nhe would have killed me, for never before did I essay onset so stout\nnor so cruel of force of arms, and I myself wounded him, and when he\nknew me he made right great joy of me. And I was with him at the house\nof King Hermit a long space until that I was healed.\"\n\n\"Lancelot,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"I would that he had wounded me, so I\nwere not too sore harmed thereof, so that I might have been with him so\nlong time as were you.\"\n\n\"Lords,\" saith the King, \"Behoveth you go on quest of him or I will go,\nfor I am bound to beseech his aid on behalf of a damsel that asked me\nthereof, but she told me that, so she might find him first, I should be\nquit of her request.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Queen, \"You will do a right great service and you may\ncounsel her herein, for sore discounselled is she.  She hath told me\nthat she was daughter of Alain li Gros of the Valleys of Camelot, and\nthat her mother's name is Yglais, and her own Dindrane.\"\n\n\"Ha, Lady,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"She is sister to the knight that\nhath borne away the shield, for I lay at her mother's house wherein I\nwas right well lodged.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the Queen, \"it may well be, for so soon as she came\nin hither, the brachet that would have acquaintance with none, made her\ngreat joy, and when the knight came to seek the shield, the brachet,\nthat had remained in the hall, played gladly with him and went.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"I will go in quest of the knight,\nfor right great desire have I to see him.\"\n\n\"And I,\" saith Lancelot, \"Never so glad have I been to see him\naforetime as I should be now.\"\n\n\"Howsoever it be,\" saith the King, \"I pray you so speed my business\nthat the damsel shall not be able to plain her of me.\"\n\n\nV.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"We will tell him and we may find him, that his\nsister is gone in quest of him, and that she hath been at your court.\"\n\nThe two knights depart from the court to enter on the quest of the Good\nKnight, and leave the castle far behind them and ride in the midst of a\nhigh forest until they find a cross in the midst of a launde, there\nwhere all the roads of the forest join together.\n\n\"Lancelot,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Choose which road soever you will,\nand so let each go by himself, so that we may the sooner hear tidings\nof the Good Knight, and let us meet together again at this cross at the\nend of a year and let either tell other how he hath sped, for please\nGod in one place or another we shall hear tidings of him.\"\n\nLancelot taketh the way to the right, and Messire Gawain to the left.\nTherewithal they depart and commend them one another to God.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XIII.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nHere the story is silent of Lancelot, and saith that Messire Gawain\ngoeth a great pace riding, and prayeth God that He will so counsel him\nthat he may find the knight.  He rideth until the day cometh to\ndecline, and he lay in the house of a hermit in the forest, that lodged\nhim well.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit to Messire Gawain, \"Whom do you go seek?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"I am in quest of a knight that I would see right\ngladly.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"In this neighbourhood will you find no\nknight.\"\n\n\"Wherefore not?\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Be there no knights in this\ncountry?\"\n\n\"There was wont to be plenty,\" saith the hermit, \"But now no longer are\nthere any, save one all alone in a castle and one all alone on the sea\nthat have chased away and slain all the others.\"\n\n\"And who is the one of the sea?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"I know not who he is, save only that the sea\nis hard by here, where the ship runneth oftentimes wherein the knight\nis, and he repaireth to an island that is under the castle of the Queen\nof the Maidens, from whence he chased an uncle of his that warred upon\nthe castle, and the other knights that he had chased thence and slain\nwere helping his uncle, so that now the castle is made sure.  And the\nknights that might flee from this forest and this kingdom durst not\nrepair thither for the knight, for they dread his hardiment and his\ngreat might, sith that they know well they might not long endure\nagainst him.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Is it so long a space sithence that he\nhath haunted the sea?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"It is scarce more than a twelvemonth.\"\n\n\"And how nigh is this to the sea?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"It is not more than two leagues Welsh. When I\nhave gone forth to my toil, many a time have I seen the ship run close\nby me, and the knight, all armed, within, and meseemed he was of right\ngreat comeliness, and had as passing proud a look as any lion.  But I\ncan well tell you never was knight so dreaded in this kingdom as is he.\nThe Queen of the Maidens would have lost her castle ere now but for\nhim.  Nor never sithence that he hath chased his uncle from the island,\nhath he entered the Queen's castle even once, but from that time forth\nhath rather rowed about the sea and searched all the islands and\nstricken down all the proud in such sort that he is dreaded and warily\navoided throughout all the kingdoms.  The Queen of the Maidens is right\nsorrowful for that he cometh not to her castle, for so dear she holdeth\nhim of very love, that and he should come and she might keep him so\nthat he should never issue forth again, she would sooner lock him up\nwith her there safe within.\"\n\n\"Know you.\" saith Messire Gawain, \"what shield the knight beareth?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"I know not now to blazon it, for nought know\nI of arms.  Three score years and more have I been in this hermitage,\nyet never saw I this kingdom before so dismayed as is it now.\"\n\nMessire Gawain lay the night therewithin, and departed when he had\nheard mass.  He draweth him as nigh the sea as he may, and rideth along\nbeside the shore and many a time draweth rein to look forth if he might\nsee the knight's ship.  But nowhere might he espy it.  He hath ridden\nuntil he cometh to the castle of the Queen of the Maidens.  When she\nknew that it was Messire Gawain, she made thereof great joy, and\npointed him out the island whither Perceval had repaired, and from\nwhence he had driven his uncle.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she to Messire Gawain, \"I plain me much of him, for never\nhath he been fain to enter herewithin, save the one time that he did\nbattle with his uncle, but ever sithence hath he made repair to this\nisland and rowed about this sea.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"and whereabout may he be now?\"\n\n\"Sir, God help me,\" saith she, \"I know not, for I have not seen him now\nof a long space, and no earthly man may know his intent nor his desire,\nnor whitherward he may turn.\"\n\nMessire Gawain is right sorrowful for that he knoweth not where to seek\nhim albeit he hath so late tidings of him.  He lay at the castle and\nwas greatly honoured, and on the morrow he heard mass and took leave of\nthe Queen, and rideth all armed beside the seashore, for that the\nhermit had told him, and the Queen herself, that he goeth oftener by\nsea than by land.  He entereth into a forest that was nigh the sea, and\nseeth a knight coming a great gallop as if one were chasing him to slay\nhim.\n\n\"Sir knight,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Whither away so fast?\"\n\n\"Sir, I am fleeing from the knight that hath slain all the others.\"\n\n\"And who is the knight?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"I know not who he is,\" saith the knight, \"But and you go forward you\nare sure to find him.\"\n\n\"Meseemeth,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"that I have seen you aforetime.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"So have you!  I am the Knight Coward that you met in\nthe forest there where you conquered the knight of the shield party\nblack and white, and I am man of the Damsel of the Car.  Wherefore I\npray you for God's sake that you do me no hurt, for the knight that I\nfound down yonder hath a look so fierce that I thought I was dead when\nI saw it.\"\n\n\"Need you fear nought of me,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"For I love your\ndamsel well.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"I would that all the other knights would say\nas much in respect of me, for no fear have I save for myself alone.\"\n\n\nII.\n\nMessire Gawain departeth from the knight, and goeth his way amidst the\nforest that overshadowed the land as far as the seashore, and looketh\nforth from the top of a sand-hill, and seeth a knight armed on a tall\ndestrier, and he had a shield of gold with a green cross.\n\n\"Ha, God,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Grant that this knight may be able to\ntell me tidings of him I seek!\"\n\nThitherward goeth he a great gallop, and saluteth him worshipfully and\nhe him again.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Can you tell me tidings of a knight that\nbeareth a shield banded of argent and azure with a red cross?\"\n\n\"Yea, Sir,\" saith the knight, \"That can I well.  At the assembly of the\nknights may you find him within forty days.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Where will the assembly be?\"\n\n\"In the Red Launde, where will be many a good knight.  There shall you\nfind him without fail.\"\n\nThereof hath Messire Gawain right great joy, and so departeth from the\nknight and the knight from him, and goeth back toward the sea a great\ngallop.  But Messire Gawain saw not the ship whereinto he entered, for\nthat it was anchored underneath the cliff.  The knight entered\nthereinto and put out to sea as he had wont to do.  Howbeit Messire\nGawain goeth his way toward the Red Launde where the assembly was to\nbe, and desireth much the day that it shall be.  He rideth until he\ncometh one eventide nigh to a castle that was of right fair seeming.\nHe met a damsel that was following after a dead knight that two other\nknights bare upon a horse-bier, and she rode a great pace right amidst\nthe forest.  And Messire Gawain cometh to meet her and saluteth her,\nand she returned the salute as fairly as she might.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Who lieth in this bier?\"\n\n\"Sir, a knight that a certain man hath slain by great outrage.\"\n\n\"And whither shall you ride this day?\"\n\n\"Sir, I would fain be in the Red Launde, and thither will I take this\nknight, that was a right worshipful man for his age.\"\n\n\"And wherefore will you take him there?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"For that he that shall do best at the assembly of knights shall avenge\nthis knight's death.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nThe damsel goeth her way thereupon.  And Messire Gawain goeth to the\ncastle that he had seen, and found none within save only one solitary\nknight, old and feeble, and a squire that waited upon him.  Howbeit,\nMessire Gawain alighteth at the castle.  The Vavasour lodged him well\nand willingly, and made his door be well shut fast and Messire Gawain\nbe disarmed, and that night he showed him honour as well as he might.\nAnd when it came to the morrow and Messire Gawain was minded to depart\nthence, the Vavasour saith to him, \"Sir you may not depart thus, for\nthis door hath not been opened this long while save only yesterday,\nwhen I made it be opened before you, to the intent that you should meet\non my behalf a certain knight that is fain to slay me, for that the\nKing of Castle Mortal hath had his hold herewithin, he that warreth on\nthe Queen of the Maidens. Wherefore I pray you that you help me to\ndefend it against the knight.\"\n\n\"What shield beareth he?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"He beareth a golden shield with a green cross.\"\n\n\"And what sort of knight is he?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Vavasour, \"A good knight and a hardy and a sure.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"And you can tell me tidings of\nanother knight whereof I am in quest, I will protect you against this\none to the best I may, and if he will do nought for my prayer, I will\nsafeguard you of my force.\"\n\n\"What knight, then, do you seek?\" saith the Vavasour.\n\n\"Sir, a knight that is called Perceval, and he hath carried away from\nthe court of King Arthur a shield banded argent and azure with a red\ncross on a band of gold.  He will be at the assembly in the Red Launde.\nThese tidings had I of the knight you dread so much.\"\n\n\nIV.\n\nThereupon, whilst Messire Gawain was thus speaking to the Vavasour,\nbehold you the Knight of the Golden Shield, that draweth rein in the\nmidst of a launde that was betwixt the castle and the forest.  The\nVavasour seeth him from the windows of the hall, and pointeth him out\nto Messire Gawain.  Messire Gawain goeth and mounteth on his destrier,\nhis shield at his neck and his spear in his fist, all armed, and\nissueth forth of the door when it had been unfastened, and cometh\ntoward the knight, that awaited him on his horse.  He seeth Messire\nGawain coming, but moveth not, and Messire Gawain marvelleth much that\nthe knight cometh not toward him, for him thinketh well that the\nVavasour had told him true.  But he had not, for never had the knight\ncome thither to do the Vavasour any hurt, but on account of the knights\nthat passed by that way that went to seek adventure, for right glad was\nhe to see them albeit he was not minded to make himself known unto any.\nMessire Gawain looketh before him and behind him and seeth that the\ndoor was made fast and the bridge drawn up so soon as he was departed\nthence, whereof he marvelled much and saith to the knight, \"Sir, is\nyour intent nought but good only?\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith he, \"Nought at all, and readily will I tell it you.\"\n\nThereupon, behold you a damsel that cometh a great pace, and held a\nwhip wherewith she hurrieth her mule onward, and she draweth rein there\nwhere the two knights were.\n\n\"Ha, God!\" saith she, \"shall I ever find one to wreak me vengeance of\nthe traitor Vavasour that dwelleth in this castle?\"\n\n\"Is he then traitor?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Yea, Sir, the most traitor you saw ever!  He lodged my brother the day\nbefore yesterday, and bore him on hand at night that a certain knight\nwas warring upon him for that the way whereby the knights pass is here\nin front of this place, and lied to him so much as that my brother held\nhim in covenant that he would assault a certain knight that he should\npoint out to him, for love of him.  This knight came passing hereby,\nthat had no thought to do hurt neither to the Vavasour nor to my\nbrother. The knight was right strong and hardy, and was born at the\ncastle of Escavalon.  My brother issued forth of the castle filled with\nfool-hardiness for the leasing of the Vavasour, and ran upon the knight\nwithout a word.  The knight could do no less than avenge himself.  They\nhurtled together so sore that their horses fell under them and their\nspears passed either through other's heart. Thus were both twain killed\non this very piece of ground.\"\n\n\nV.\n\n\"The Vavasour took the arms and the horses and put them in safe keeping\nin his castle, and the bodies of the knights he left to the wild\nbeasts, that would have devoured them had I not chanced to come thither\nwith two knights that helped me bury them by yonder cross at the\nentrance of the forest.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"In like manner would he have\nwrought me mischief had I been minded to trust him; for he bore me in\nhand that this knight was warring upon him, and besought me that I\nshould safeguard him against him.  But our Lord God so helped me that I\nintermeddled not therein, for lightly might I have wrought folly.\"\n\n\"By the name of God,\" saith the other, \"Meseemeth it clear that the\nVavasour would fain that knights should kill each other.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"You say true; it is of his covetise of\nharness and horses that he entreateth the knights on this-wise.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Whither go you?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"After a knight that I have made be carried in a\nlitter for the dead.\"\n\n\"I saw him,\" saith he, \"pass by here last night, full late last night.\"\n\nThe knight taketh leave of Messire Gawain, and Messire Gawain saith\nthat he holdeth himself a churl in that he hath not asked him of his\nname.  But the knight said, \"Fair Sir, I pray you of love that you ask\nnot my name until such time as I shall ask you of yours.\"\n\n\nVI.\n\nMessire Gawain would ask nought further of the knight, and the knight\nentered into the Lonely Forest and Messire Gawain goeth on his way.  He\nmeeteth neither knight nor damsel to whom he telleth not whom he goeth\nto seek, and they all say that he will be in the Red Launde.  He lodged\nthe night with a hermit.  At night, the hermit asked Messire Gawain\nwhence he came?\n\n\"Sir, from the land of the Queen of the Maidens.\"\n\n\"Have you seen Perceval, the Good Knight that took the shield in King\nArthur's court and left another there?\"\n\n\"No, certes,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Whereof am I right sorrowful.  But\na knight with a shield of gold and a green cross thereon told me that\nhe would be at the Red Launde.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"you say true, for it was he himself to whom\nyou spake.  Tonight is the third night since he lay within yonder, and\nsee here the bracket he brought from King Arthur's court, which he hath\ncommanded me to convey to his uncle, King Hermit.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" saith Messire Gawain, \"What ill chance is mine if this be true!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"I ought not to lie, neither to you nor other.\nBy the brachet may you well know that this is true.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Of custom beareth he no such shield.\"\n\n\"I know well,\" saith the hermit, \"what shield he ought to bear, and\nwhat shield he will bear hereafter.  But this doth he that he may not\nbe known, and this shield took he in the hermitage of Joseus, the son\nof King Hermit, there where Lancelot was lodged, where he hanged the\nfour thieves that would have broken into the hermitage by night.  And\nwithin there hath remained the shield he brought from King Arthur's\ncourt, with Joseus the son of my sister, and they are as brother and\nsister between the twain, and you may know of very truth that albeit\nJoseus be hermit, no knight is there in Great Britain of his heart and\nhardiment.\"\n\n\nVII.\n\n\"Certes,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"It was sore mischance for me that I\nshould see him yesterday before the castle where the knights pass by,\nand speak to him and ask him his name, but he besought me that I should\nnot ask him his name until such time as he should ask me mine; and with\nthat he departed from me and entered into the forest, and I came\nhitherward.  Now am I so sorrowful that I know not what I may do for\nthe best, for King Arthur sendeth me in quest of him, and Lancelot hath\nalso gone to seek him in another part of the kingdom of Logres.  But\nnow hath too great mischance befallen me of this quest, for twice have\nI seen him and found him and spoken to him, and now have I lost him\nagain.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"He is so close and wary a knight, that he is\nfain never to waste a word, neither will he make false semblant to any\nnor speak word that he would not should be heard, nor do shame of his\nbody to his knowledge, nor carnal sin, for virgin and chaste is he and\ndoth never outrage to any.\"\n\n\"I know well,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"that all the valours and all the\ncleannesses that ought to be in a knight are in him, and therefore am I\nthe more sorrowful that I am not of them that he knoweth, for a man is\nworth the more that hath acquaintance with a good knight.\"\n\n\nVIII.\n\nMessire Gawain lay the night in the hermit's house, right sorrowful,\nand in the morning departed when he had heard mass. Josephus the good\nclerk witnesseth us in this high history that this hermit had to name\nJosuias, and was a knight of great worship and valour, but he renounced\nall for the love of God, and was fain to set his body in banishment for\nHim.  And all these adventures that you hear in this high record came\nto pass, Josephus telleth us, for the setting forward the law of the\nSaviour.  All of them could he not record, but only these whereof he\nbest remembered him, and whereof he knew for certain all the adventures\nby virtue of the Holy Spirit.  This high record saith that Messire\nGawain hath wandered so far that he is come into the Red Launde whereas\nthe assembly of knights should be held.  He looketh and seeth the tents\npitched and the knights coming from all quarters.  The most part were\nalready armed within and before their tents.  Messire Gawain looketh\neverywhere, thinking to see the knight he seeketh, but seemeth him he\nseeth him not, for no such shield seeth he as he beareth.  All abashed\nis he thereof, for he hath seen all the tents and looked at all the\narms.  But the knight is not easy to recognise, for he hath changed his\narms, and nigh enough is he to Messire Gawain, albeit you may well\nunderstand that he knoweth it not.  And the tournament assembleth from\nall parts, and the divers fellowships come the one against other, and\nthe melly of either upon other as they come together waxeth sore and\nmarvellous.  And Messire Gawain searcheth the ranks to find the knight,\nalbeit when he meeteth knight in his way he cannot choose but do\nwhatsoever a knight may do of arms, and yet more would he have done but\nfor his fainness to seek out the knight.  The damsel is at the head of\nthe tournament, for that she would fain know the one that shall have\nthe mastery and the prize therein.\n\nThe knight that Messire Gawain seeketh is not at the head of the\nfellowships, but in the thickest of the press, and such feats of arms\ndoth he that more may no knight do, and smiteth down the knights about\nhim, that flee from him even as the deer-hound fleeth from the lion.\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"sith that they have lied to me\nabout the knight, I will seek him no more this day, but forget my\ndiscontent as best I may until evening.\"\n\nHe seeth the knight, but knoweth him not, for he had a white shield and\ncognisances of the same.  And Messire Gawain cometh to him as fast as\nhis horse may carry him, and the knight toward Messire Gawain.  So\npassing stoutly they come together that they pierce their shields below\nthe boss.  Their spears were so tough that they break not, and they\ndraw them forth and come together again so strongly that the spears\nwherewith they smote each other amidst the breast were bended so that\nthey unriveted the holdfasts of their shields, and they lost their\nstirrups, and the reins fly from their fists, and they stagger against\nthe back saddlebows, and the horses stumbled so as that they all but\nfell. They straighten them in saddle and stirrup, and catch hold upon\ntheir reins, and then come together again, burning with wrath and fury\nlike lions, and either smiteth on other with their spears that may\nendure no longer, for the shafts are all to-frushed as far as the fists\nin such sort that they that look on marvel them much how it came to\npass that the points had not pierced their bodies.  But God would not\nthat the good knights should slay each other, rather would He that the\none should know the true worth of the other.  The habergeons\nsafeguarded not their bodies, but the might of God in whom they\nbelieved, for in them had they all the valour that knight should have;\nand never did Messire Gawain depart from hostel wherein he had lien,\nbut he first heard mass before he went if so he might, nor never found\nhe dame nor damsel discounselled whereof he had not pity, nor did he\never churlishness to other knight, nor said nor thought it, and he\ncame, as you have heard, of the most holy lineage of Josephus and the\ngood King Fisherman.\n\n\nIX.\n\nThe good knights were in the midst of the assembly, and right wrathful\nwas the one against the other, and they held their swords naked and\ntheir shields on their arms and dealt each other huge buffets right in\nthe midst of the helms.  The most part of the knights come to them and\ntell them that the assembly waiteth for them to come thereunto.  They\nhave much pains to part them asunder, and then the melly beginneth\nagain on all sides, and the evening cometh on that parteth them at\nlast.  And on this wise the assembly lasted for two days.  The damsel\nthat brought the knight on a bier in a coffin, dead, prayed the\nassembly of all the knights to declare which one of all the knights had\ndone the best, for the knight that she made be carried might not be\nburied until such time as he were avenged.  And they say that the\nknight of the white shield and the other with the shield sinople and\nthe golden eagle had done better than all the other, but, for that the\nknight of the white shield had joined in the melly before the other,\nthey therefore would give him the prize; but they judged that for the\ntime that Messire Gawain had joined therein he had not done worse than\nthe other knight.  The damsel seeketh the knight of the white shield\namong the knights and throughout all the tents, but cannot find him,\nfor already hath he departed. She cometh to Messire Gawain and saith:\n\"Sir, sith that I find not the knight of the white shield, you are he\nthat behoveth avenge the knight that lieth dead in the litter.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Do me not this shame, for it hath been\ndeclared that the other knight hath better done herein than I.\"\n\n\nX.\n\n\"Damsel, well you know that no honour should I have thereof, were I to\nemprise to do that whereof you beseech me, for you have said that\nbehoveth none to avenge him, save only that hath borne him best at this\nassembly, and that is he of the white shield, and, so God help me, this\nhave I well felt and proven.\"\n\n\nXI.\n\nThe damsel well understandeth that Messire Gawain speaketh reason.\n\n\"Ha, Sir,\" saith she, \"He hath already departed hence and gone into the\nforest, and the most divers-seeming knight is he and the best that\nliveth, and great pains shall I have or ever I find him again.\"\n\n\"The best?\" saith Messire Gawain; \"How know you that?\"\n\n\"I know it well,\" saith she, \"for that in the house of King Fisherman\ndid the Graal appear unto him for the goodness of his knighthood and\nthe goodness of his heart and for the chastity of his body.  But he\nforgat to ask that one should serve thereof, whence hath sore harm\nbefallen the land.  He came to the court of King Arthur, where he took\na shield that none ought to bear save he alone.  Up to this time have I\nwell known his coming and going, but nought shall I know thereof\nhereafter for that he hath changed the cognisance of his shield and\narms.  And now am I entered into sore pain and travail to seek him, for\nI shall not have found him of a long space, and I came not to this\nassembly save for him alone.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"You have told me tidings such as no\ngladness have I thereof, for I also am seeking him, but I know not how\nI may ever recognise him, for he willeth not to tell me his name, and\ntoo often changeth he his shield, and well I know that so I shall ever\ncome in place where he hath changed his cognisance, and he shall come\nagainst me and I against him, I shall only know him by the buffets that\nhe knoweth how to deal, for never in arms have I made acquaintance with\nso cruel a knight.  But again would I suffer sorer blows than I have\nsuffered yet, so only I might be where he is.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"What is your name?\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"I am called Gawain.\"\n\nWith that he commendeth the damsel to God, and goeth his way in one\ndirection and the damsel in another, and saith to herself that Perceval\nis the most marvellous knight of the world, that so often he\ndiscogniseth himself.  For when one seeth him one may recognise him\nnot.  Messire Gawain rideth amidst the forest, and prayeth the Saviour\nlead him into such place as that he may find Perceval openly, in such\nsort that he may have his acquaintance and his love that so greatly he\ndesireth.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XIV.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nHerewithal the story is silent of Messire Gawain, and saith that\nLancelot seeketh Perceval in like manner as did Messire Gawain, and\nrideth until that he cometh to the hermitage where he hanged the\nthieves.  Joseus made right great joy of him.  He asked him whether he\nknew any tidings of the son of the Widow Lady.\n\n\"I have seen him sithence that he came from King Arthur's court but\nonce only, and whither he is gone I know not.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"I would see him right fain.  King Arthur\nsendeth for him by me.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"I know not when I may see him again, for when\nonce he departeth hence he is not easy to find.\"\n\nLancelot entereth the chapel with the hermit, and seeth the shield that\nPerceval brought from King Arthur's court beside the altar.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"I see his shield yonder.  Hide him not from me.\"\n\n\"I will not do so,\" saith the hermit.  \"This shield, truly, is his, but\nhe took with him another from hence, of gold with a green cross.\"\n\n\"And know you no tidings of Messire Gawain?\"\n\n\"I have not seen Messire Gawain sithence tofore I entered into this\nhermitage.  But you have fallen into sore hatred on account of the four\nrobbers that were knights whom you hanged.  For their kinsmen are\nsearching for you in this forest and in other, and are thieves like as\nwere the others, and they have their hold in this forest, wherein they\nbestow their robberies and plunder. Wherefore I pray you greatly be on\nyour guard against them.\"\n\n\"So will I,\" saith Lancelot, \"please God.\"\n\nHe lay the night in the hermitage, and departeth on the morrow after\nthat he hath heard mass and prayeth God grant he may find Perceval or\nMessire Gawain.  He goeth his way amidst the strange forests until that\nhe cometh to a strong castle that was builded right seemly.  He Looketh\nbefore him and seeth a knight that was issued thereout, and was riding\na great pace on a strong destrier, and carded a bird on his fist toward\nthe forest.\n\n\nII.\n\nWhen he saw Lancelot coming he drew up. \"Sir,\" saith he, \"Be welcome.\"\n\n\"Good adventure to you,\" saith Lancelot.  \"What castle is this?\"\n\n\"Sir, it is the Castle of the Golden Circlet.  And I go to meet the\nknights and dames that come to the castle, for this day is the day\nordained for the adoration of the Golden Circlet.\"\n\n\"What is the Golden Circlet?\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"Sir, it is the Crown of Thorns,\" saith the knight, \"that the Saviour\nof the world had on His head when He was set upon the Rood.  Wherefore\nthe Queen of this castle hath set it in gold and precious stones in\nsuch sort that the knights and dames of this kingdom come to behold it\nonce in the year.  But it is said that the knight that was first at the\nGraal shall conquer it, and therefore is no strange knight allowed to\nenter.  But, so please you, I will lead you to mine own hold that is in\nthis forest.\"\n\n\"Right great thanks,\" saith Lancelot, \"But as yet it is not time to\ntake lodging.\"\n\nHe taketh leave of the knight, and so departeth and looketh at the\ncastle, and saith that in right great worship should the knight be held\nthat by the valour of his chivalry shall conquer so noble a hallow as\nis the Golden Circlet when it is kept safe in a place so strong.  He\ngoeth his way right amidst the forest, and looketh forth before him and\nseeth coming the damsel that hath the knight carried in the litter for\nthe dead.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Lancelot, \"Be welcome.\"\n\n\"Sir, God give you good adventure!  Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"Greatly\nought I to hate the knight that slew this knight, for that he hath\nforced me thus to lead him in this wise by fell and forest.  So also\nought I to mislike me much of the knight that it standeth upon to\navenge him, whom I may not find.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Lancelot, \"Who slew this knight?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"The Lord of the Burning Dragon.\"\n\n\"And who ought of right to avenge him?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"The knight that was in the Red Launde at the\nassembly, that jousted with Messire Gawain, and had the prize of the\ntournament.\"\n\n\"Did he better than Messire Gawain?\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"Sir, so did they adjudge him; for that he was a longer time in the\nassembly.\"\n\n\"A good knight was he, then,\" saith Lancelot, \"sith that he did better\nthan Messire Gawain!\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the damsel, \"You say true, for he is the Best\nKnight of the World.\"\n\n\"And what shield beareth he?\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"At the assembly he bore white arms, but\nbefore that, he had arms of another semblance, and one shield that he\nhad was green, and one gold with a green cross.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"Did Messire Gawain know him?\"\n\n\"Sir, not at all, whereof is he right sorrowful.\"\n\n\"Is he, then,\" saith he, \"Perceval, the son of the Widow Lady?\"\n\n\"By my head, you say true!\"\n\n\"Ha, God!\" saith Lancelot, \"the more am I mazed how Messire Gawain knew\nhim not.  Damsel,\" saith he, \"And know you whitherward they are gone?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I know not whither, nor have I any tidings, neither\nor the one nor the other.\"\n\nHe departeth from the damsel and rideth until the sun was set. He found\nthe rocks darkling and the forest right deep and perilous of seeming.\nHe rode on, troubled in thought, and weary and full of vexation.  Many\na time Looketh he to right and to left, and he may see any place where\nhe may lodge.  A dwarf espied him, but Lancelot saw him not.  The dwarf\ngoeth right along a by-way that is in the forest, and goeth to a little\nhold of robber-knights that lay out of the way, where was a damsel that\nkept watch over the hold.  The robbers had another hold where was the\ndamsel where the passing knights are deceived and entrapped.  The dwarf\ncometh forthright to the damsel, and saith: \"Now shall we see what you\nwill do, for see, here cometh the knight that hanged your uncle grid\nyour three cousins german.\"\n\n\"Now shall I have the best of him,\" saith she, \"as for mine own share\nin this matter, but take heed that you be garnished ready to boot.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the dwarf, \"that will I, for, please God, he shall\nnot escape us again, save he be dead.\"\n\nThe damsel was of passing great beauty and was clad right seemingly,\nbut right treacherous was she of heart, nor no marvel was it thereof,\nfor she came of the lineage of robbers and was nurtured on theft and\nrobbery, and she herself had helped to murder many a knight.  She is\ncome upon the way, so that Lancelot hath to pass her, without her\nkerchief.  She meeteth Lancelot and saluteth him and maketh him right\ngreat joy, of semblant.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Follow this path that goeth into the forest, and you\nwill find a hold that my forefathers stablished for harbouring of such\nknights as might be passing through the forest.  The night is dark\nalready, and if you pass on further no hold will you find nearer than a\nscore leagues Welsh.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Lancelot, \"Gramercy heartily of this that it pleaseth\nyou to say, for right gladly will I harbour me here, for it is more\nthan time to take lodging, and with you more willingly than another.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nOn this wise they go their way talking, as far as the hold. There was\nnone therewithin save only the dwarf, for the five robber knights were\nin their hold at the lower end of the forest. The dwarf took Lancelot's\nhorse, and stabled him, then went up into the hall above, and gave\nhimself up wholly to serving him.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"Allow yourself to be disarmed, and have full\nassurance of safety.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"Small trouble is it for me to wear mine arms, and\nlightly may I abide it.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Please God, you shall nor lie armed within yonder.\nNever yet did knight so that harboured therein.\"\n\nBut the more the damsel presseth him to disarm, the more it misliketh\nhim, for the place seemeth him right dark and foul-seeming, wherefore\nwill he not disarm nor disgarnish himself.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Meseemeth you are suspicious of something, but no\ncall have you to misdoubt of aught here within, for the place is quite\nsafe.  I know not whether you have enemies?\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Lancelot, \"Never yet knew I knight that was loved of\neverybody, yet sometimes might none tell the reason thereof.\"\n\n\nIV.\n\nLancelot, so saith the story, would not disarm him, wherefore he made\nthe table be set, and sate thereat beside the damsel at meat.  He made\nhis shield and his helmet and spear be brought into the hall.  He leant\nback upon a rich couch that was therewithin, with his sword by his\nside, all armed.  He was weary and the bed was soft, so he went to\nsleep.  Howbeit, the dwarf mounteth on his horse that he had left still\nsaddled, and goeth his way to the other hold where the robbers were,\nall five, that were Lancelot's mortal enemies.  The damsel remained all\nalone with him that she hated of a right deadly hate.  She thought to\nherself that gladly would she slay him, and that, so she might compass\nit, she would be thereof held in greater worship of all the world, for\nwell she knew that he was a good knight, and that one so good she had\nnever slain.  She filched away the sword that was at his side, then\ndrew it from the scabbard, then looketh to see where she may lightliest\nsmite him to slay him.  She seeth that his head is so covered of armour\nthat nought appeareth thereof save only the face, and she bethinketh\nher that one stroke nor two on the helmet would scarce hurt him\ngreatly, but that and she might lift the skirt of his habergeon without\nawakening him she might well slay him, for so might she thrust the\nsword right through his heart.  Meanwhile, as she was searching thus,\nLancelot, that was sleeping and took no heed thereof, saw, so it seemed\nhim, a little cur-dog come therewithin, and brought with him sundry\ngreat mongrel ban-dogs that ran upon him on all sides, and the little\ncur bit at him likewise among the others.  The ban-dogs held him so\nfast that he might not get away from them.  He seeth that a greyhound\nbitch had hold of his sword, and she had hands like a woman, and was\nfain to slay him.  And it seemed him that he snatched the sword from\nher and slew the greyhound bitch and the biggest and most masterful of\nthe ban-dogs and the little cur.  He was scared of the dream and\nstarted up and awoke, and felt the scabbard of his sword by his side,\nthat the damsel had left there all empty, the which he perceived not,\nand soon thereafter he fell on sleep again.  The dwarf that had stolen\nhis horse cometh to the robber knights, and crieth to them, \"Up, Sirs,\nand haste you to come and avenge you of your mortal enemy that sent the\nbest of your kindred out of the world with such shame!  See, here is\nhis horse that I bring you for a token!\" He alighteth of the horse, and\ngiveth him up to them.  Right joyous are the robbers of the tidings he\ntelleth them.  The dwarf bringeth them all armed to the hold.\n\n\nV.\n\nLancelot was awake, all scared of the dream he had dreamed.  He seeth\nthem enter within all armed, and the damsel crieth to them: \"Now will\nit appear,\" saith she, \"what you will do!\"\n\nLancelot hath leapt up, thinking to take his sword, but findeth the\nscabbard all empty.  The damsel that held the sword was the first of\nall to run upon him, and the five knights and the dwarf set upon him\nfrom every side.  He perceived that it was his own sword the damsel\nheld, the one he prized above all other.  He taketh his lance that was\nat his bed's head and cometh toward the master of the knights at a\ngreat sweep, and smiteth him so fiercely that he thrusteth him right\nthrough the body so that the lance passeth a fathom beyond, and beareth\nhim to the ground dead.  His spear broke as he drew it back.  He\nrunneth to the damsel that held the sword, and wresteth it forth of her\nhands and holdeth it fast with his arm right against his flank and\ngrippeth it to him right strait; albeit she would fain snatch it again\nfrom him by force, whereat Lancelot much marvelled.  He swingeth it\nabove him, and the four knights come back upon him. He thinketh to\nsmite one with the sword, when the damsel leapeth in between them,\nthinking to hold Lancelot fast, and thereby the blow that should have\nfallen on one of the knights caught the damsel right through the head\nand slew her, whereof he was right sorrowful, howsoever she might have\nwrought against him.\n\n\nVI.\n\nWhen the four knights saw the damsel dead, right grieved were they\nthereof.  And the dwarf crieth out to them: \"Lords, now shall it be\nseen how you will avenge the sore mischief done you. So help me God,\ngreat shame may you have and you cannot conquer a single knight.\"\n\nThey run upon him again on all sides, but maugre all their heads he\ngoeth thither where he thinketh to find his horse; but him findeth he\nnot.  Thereby well knoweth he that the dwarf hath made away with him,\nwherefore he redoubled his hardiment and his wrath waxed more and more.\nAnd the knights were not to be lightly apaid when they saw their lord\ndead and the damsel that was their cousin.  Sore buffets they dealt him\nof their swords the while he defended himself as best he might.  He\ncaught the dwarf that was edging them on to do him hurt, and clave him\nas far as the shoulders, and wounded two of the knights right badly,\nand he himself was hurt in two places; but he might not depart from the\nhouse, nor was his horse there within, nor was there but a single\nentrance into the hall.  The knights set themselves without the door\nand guard the issue, and Lancelot was within with them that were dead.\nHe sate himself down at the top of the hall to rest him, for he was\nsore spent with the blows he had given and received.  When he had\nrested himself awhile, he riseth to his feet and seeth that they have\nsate them down in the entrance to the hall.  He mounteth up to the\nwindows and flingeth them down them that were dead within through the\nwindows.  Just then the day appeared, fair and clear, and the birds\nbegan to sing amidst the forest, whereof the hall was overshadowed.  He\nmaketh fast the door of the hall and barreth it and shutteth the\nknights without; and they say one to the other and swear it, that they\nwill not depart thence until they have taken him or famished him to\ndeath.  Little had Lancelot recked of their threats and he might have\nhad his horse at will, but he was not so sure of his stroke afoot as\na-horseback, as no knight never is.  Him thinketh he may well abide the\nsiege as long as God shall please, for the hall was well garnished of\nmeat in right great joints.  He is there within all alone, and the four\nknights without that keep watch that he goeth not, but neither wish nor\nwill hath he to go forth afoot; but, and he had had his horse, the\ngreat hardiment that he hath in him would have made that he should go\nforth honourably, howsoever they without might have taken it and what\ngrievance soever they might have had thereof.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XV.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nHere the story is silent of Lancelot, and talketh of Messire Gawain\nthat goeth to seek Perceval, and is right heavy for that twice hath he\nfound him when he knew him not.  He cometh back again to the cross\nwhereas he told Lancelot he would await him so he should come thither\nbefore him.  He went and came to and fro by the forest more than eight\ndays to wait for him, but could hear no tidings.  He would not return\nto King Arthur's court, for had he gone thither in such case, he would\nhave had blame thereof.  He goeth back upon the quest and saith that he\nwill never stint therein until he shall have found both Lancelot and\nPerceval.  He cometh to the hermitage of Joseus, and alighted of his\nhorse and found the young hermit Joseus, that received him well and\nmade full great joy of him.  He harboured the night therewithin.\nMessire Gawain asked him tidings of Perceval, and the hermit telleth\nhim he hath not seen him since before the assembly of the Red Launde.\n\n\"And can you tell me where I may find him?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Not I,\" saith the hermit, \"I cannot tell you whereabout he is.\"\n\nWhile they were talking on this wise, straightway behold you a knight\ncoming that hath arms of azure, and alighteth at the hermitage to lodge\nthere.  The hermit receiveth him right gladly. Messire Gawain asketh\nhim if he saw a knight with white arms ride amidst the forest.\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith the knight, \"I have seen him this day and spoken\nwith him, and he asked me and I could tell him tidings of a knight that\nbeareth a shield of sinople with a golden eagle, and I told him, no.\nAfterward, I enquired wherefore he asked it, and he made answer that he\nhad jousted at him in the Red Launde, nor never before had he found so\nsturdy assault of any knight, wherefore he was right sorrowful for that\nhe was not acquainted with him, for the sake of his good knighthood.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Gawain, \"The knight is more sorrowful than he, for\nnought is there in the world he would gladlier see than him.\"\n\nThe knight espieth Messire Gawain's shield and saith, \"Ha, Sir,\nmethinketh you are he.\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"you say true.  I am he against whom he\njousted, and right glad am I that so good a knight smote upon my\nshield, and right sorrowful for that I knew him not; but tell me where\nI may find him?\"\n\n\nII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Joseus the Hermit, \"He will not have gone forth from this\nforest, for this is the place wherein he wonneth most willingly, and\nthe shield that he brought from King Arthur's court is in this chapel.\"\n\nSo he showeth the shield to Messire Gawain that maketh great joy\nthereof.\n\n\"Ha, Sir,\" saith the knight of the white arms, \"Is your name Messire\nGawain?\"\n\n\"Fair Sir,\" saith he, \"Gawain am I called.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"I have not ceased to seek you for a long\nwhile past.  Meliot of Logres, that is your man, the son of the lady\nthat was slain on your account, sendeth you word that Nabigant of the\nRock hath slain his father on your account; wherefore he challengeth\nthe land that hath fallen to him; and hereof he prayeth you that you\nwill come to succour him as behoveth lord to do to his liege man.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Behoveth me not fail him therein,\nwherefore tell him I will succour him so soon as I may; but tell him I\nhave emprised a business that I cannot leave but with loss of honour\nuntil such time as it be achieved.\"\n\nThey lay the night at the hermitage until after mass was sung on the\nmorrow.\n\n\nIII.\n\nThe knight departed and Messire Gawain remained.  So when he was\napparelled to mount, he looketh before him at the issue of the forest\ntoward the hermitage, and seeth coming a knight on a tall horse, full\nspeed and all armed, and he bore a shield like the one he saw Perceval\nbearing the first time.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Know you this knight that cometh there!\"\n\n\"Truly, Sir, well do I know him.  This is Perceval whom you seek, whom\nyou so much desire to see!\"\n\n\"God be praised thereof!\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Inasmuch as he cometh\nhither.\"\n\nHe goeth afoot to meet him, and Perceval alighteth so soon as he seeth\nhim.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Right welcome may you be!\"\n\n\"Good joy may you have,\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"Make great joy of him!  this is Messire\nGawain, King Arthur's nephew.\"\n\n\"Thereof do I love him the better!\" saith he. \"Honour and joy ought all\nthey to do him that know him!\"\n\nHe throweth his arms on his neck, and so maketh him great joy.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Can you tell me tidings of a knight that was in the\nRed Launde at the assembly of knights?\"\n\n\"What shield beareth he?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"A red shield with a golden eagle,\" saith Perceval.  \"And more by\ntoken, never made I acquaintance with any so sturdy in battle as are he\nand Lancelot.\"\n\n\"Fair sir, it pleaseth you to say so,\" saith Messire Gawain. \"In the\nRed Launde was I at the assembly, and such arms bore I as these you\nblazon, and I jousted against a knight in white arms, of whom I know\nthis, that all of knighthood that may be lodged in the body of a man is\nin him.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval to Messire Gawain, \"You know not how to blame any\nman.\"\n\nSo they hold one another by the hands, and go into the hermitage.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"When you were in the court of King Arthur\nfor the shield that is within yonder, your sister was also there, and\nprayed and besought the help of the knight that should bear away the\nshield, as being the most discounselled damsel in the world.  The King\ngranted it her, and you bore away the shield.  She asked your aid of\nthe King as she that deemed not you were her brother, and said that if\nthe King failed of his covenant, he would do great sin, whereof would\nhe have much blame.  The King was fain to do all he might to seek you,\nto make good that he had said, and sent us forth in quest of you, so\nthat the quest lieth between me and Lancelot.  He himself would have\ncome had we been unwilling to go.  Sir, I have found you three times\nwithout knowing you, albeit great desire had I to see you. This is the\nfourth time and I know you now, whereof I make myself right joyous; and\nmuch am I beholden to you of the fair lodging your mother gave me at\nCamelot; but right sore pity have I of her, for a right worshipful\nwoman is she, and a widow lady and ancient, and fallen into much war\nwithout aid nor comfort, through the evil folk that harass her and\nreave her of her castles.  She prayed me, weeping the while right\nsweetly, that and if I should find you that are her son, I should tell\nyou of her plight, that your father is dead, and that she hath no\nsuccour nor aid to look for save from you alone, and if you succour her\nnot shortly, she will lose her own one castle that she holdeth, and\nmust needs become a beggar, for of the fifteen castles she wont to have\nin your father's time, she hath now only that of Camelot, nor of all\nher knights hath she but five to guard the castle.  Wherefore I pray\nyou on her behalf and for your own honour, that you will grant her\nherein of your counsel and your valour and your might, for of no\nchivalry that you may do may you rise to greater worship.  And so sore\nneed hath she herein as you hear me tell, nor would I that she should\nlose aught by default of message, for thereof should I have sin and she\nharm, and you yourself also, that have the power to amend it and ought\nof right so to do!\"\n\n\"Well have you delivered yourself herein,\" saith Perceval, \"And betimes\nwill I succour her and our Lord God will.\"\n\n\"You will do honour to yourself,\" saith Messire Gawain.  \"Thereof will\nyou have praise with God and worship with the world.\"\n\n\"Well know I,\" saith Perceval, \"that in me ought she to have aid and\ncounsel as of right, and that so I do not accordingly, I ought to have\nreproach and be blamed as recreant before the world.\"\n\n\nIV.\n\n\"In God's name,\" saith the hermit, \"you speak according to the\nscripture, for he that honoureth not his father and mother neither\nbelieveth in God nor loveth Him.\"\n\n\"All this know I well,\" saith Perceval, \"And well pleased am I to be\nreminded thereof, and well know I also mine intent herein, albeit I\ntell it to none.  But if any can tell me tidings of Lancelot, right\nwillingly shall I hear them, and take it kindly of the teller thereof.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Joseus, \"It is but just now since he lay here within, and\nasked me tidings of Messire Gawain, and I told him such as I knew.\nAnother time before that, he lay here when the robbers assailed us that\nhe hanged in the forest, and so hated is he thereof of their kinsfolk\nthat and they may meet him, so they have the might, he is like to pay\nfor it right dear, and in this forest won they rather than in any\nother.  I told him as much, but he made light thereof in semblant, even\nas he will in deed also if their force be not too great.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Perceval, \"I will not depart forth of this forest\nuntil I know tidings of him, if Messire Gawain will pledge himself\nthereto.\"\n\nAnd Messire saith he desireth nothing better, sith that he hath found\nPerceval, for he may not be at ease until such time as he shall know\ntidings of Lancelot, for he hath great misgiving sith that he hath\nenemies in the forest.\n\n\nV.\n\nPerceval and Messire Gawain sojourned that day in the forest in the\nhermitage, and the morrow Perceval took his shield that he brought from\nKing Arthur's court, and left that which he brought with him, and\nMessire Gawain along with him that made himself right joyous of his\ncompany.  They ride amidst the forest both twain, all armed, and at the\nright hour of noon they meet a knight that was coming a great gallop as\nthough he were all scared.  Perceval asketh him whence he cometh, that\nhe seemeth so a-dread.\n\n\"Sir, I come from the forest of the robbers that won in this forest\nwherethrough you have to pass.  They have chased me a full league Welsh\nto slay me, but they would not follow me further for a knight that they\nhave beset in one of their holds, that hath done them right sore\nmischief, for he hath hanged four of their knights and slain one, as\nwell as the fairest damsel that was in the kingdom.  But right well had\nshe deserved the death for that she harboured knights with fair\nsemblant and showed them much honour, and afterward brought about their\ndeath and destruction, between herself and a dwarf that she hath, that\nslew the knights.\"\n\n\"And know you who is the knight?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"Not I, for no leisure had I to ask him, for\nsorer need had I to flee than to stay.  But I tell you that on account\nof the meat that failed him in the hold wherein they beset him, he\nissued forth raging like a lion, nor would he have suffered himself be\nshut up so long but for two wounds that he had upon his body; for he\ncared not to issue forth of the house until such time as they were\nhealed, and also for that he had no horse.  And so soon as he felt\nhimself whole, he ventured himself against the four knights, that were\nso a-dread of him that they durst not come a-nigh.  And moreover he\ndeigneth not to go a-foot, wherefore if they now come a-nigh, it may\nnot be but he shall have one at least out of their four horses, but\nthey hold them heedfully aloof.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"Gramercy of these tidings.\"\n\nThey were fain to depart from the knight, but said he: \"Ha, Lords,\nallow me so much as to see the destruction of this evil folk that have\nwrought such mischief in this forest!  Sir\" saith he to Messire Gawain,\n\"I am cousin to the Poor Knight of the Waste Forest that hath the two\npoor damsels to sister, there where you and Lancelot jousted between\nyou, and when the knight that brought you tidings thereof died in the\nnight.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"These tidings know I well, for\nyou say true, and your company hold I right dear for the love of the\nPoor Knight, for never yet saw I more courteous knight, nor more\ncourteous damsels, nor better nurtured, and our Lord God grant them as\nmuch good as I would they should have.\"\n\nMessire Gawain made the knight go before, for well knew he the robbers'\nhold, but loath enough had he been to go thither, had the knights not\nfollowed him behind.  Lancelot was issued forth of the hold sword in\nhand, all armed, angry as a lion.  The four knights were upon their\nhorses all armed, but no mind had they come a-nigh him, for sore\ndreaded they the huge buffets he dealt, and his hardiment.  One of them\ncame forward before the others, and it seemed him shame that they might\nnot vanquish one single knight.  He goeth to smite Lancelot a great\nstroke of his sword above in the midst of his head, nor did Lancelot's\nsword fail of its stroke, for before he could draw back, Lancelot dealt\nhim such a blow as smote oft all of his leg at the thigh, so that he\nmade him leave the saddlebows empty.  Lancelot leapt up on the\ndestrier, and now seemed him he was safer than before.  The three\nrobber-knights that yet remained whole ran upon him on all sides and\nbegan to press him of their swords in right sore wrath. Thereupon\nbehold you, the knight cometh to the way that goeth to the hold and\nsaith to Messire Gawain and Perceval, \"Now may you hear the dashing of\nswords and the melly.\"\n\nTherewithal the two good knights smite horse with spur and come thither\nwhere the three robber-knights were assailing Lancelot. Each of the\ntwain smiteth his own so wrathfully that they thrust their spears right\nthrough their bodies and bear them to the ground dead.  Howbeit the\nthird knight was fain to flee, but the knight that had come to show\nMessire Gawain the way took heart and hardiment from the confidence of\nthe good knights, and smote him as he fled so sore that he pierced him\nwith his spear to the heart and toppled him to the ground dead.  And\nthe one whose leg Lancelot had lopped off was so trampled underfoot of\nthe knights that he had no life in him.\n\n\nVI.\n\nWhen Lancelot knew Perceval and Messire Gawain he made great joy of\nthem and they of him.\n\n\"Lancelot,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"This knight that led us hither to\nsave your life is cousin to the Poor Knight of the Waste Castle, the\nbrother of the two poor damsels that lodged us so well.  We will send\nhim these horses, one for the knight that shall be the messenger, and\nthe two to the lord of the Waste Castle, and this hold that we have\ntaken shall be for the two damsels, and so shall we make them safe all\nthe days of their life.  This, methinketh, will be well.\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith Perceval, \"you speak of great courtesy.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"Messire Gawain hath said, and right willingly\nwill I grant him all his wish.\"\n\n\"Lords,\" saith the knight, \"They have in this forest a hold wherein the\nknights did bestow their plunder, for the sake whereof they murdered\nthe passers by.  If the goods remain there they will be lost, for\ntherein is so great store as might be of much worth to many folk that\nare poverty-stricken for want thereof.\"\n\nThey go to the hold and find right great treasure in a cave\nunderground, and rich sets of vessels and rich ornaments of cloth and\narmours for horses, that they had thrown the one over another into a\npit that was right broad.\n\n\"Certes,\" saith he, \"Right well hath it been done to this evil folk\nthat is destroyed!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"in like manner would they have dealt with me\nand killed me if they might; whereof no sorrow have I save of the\ndamsel that I slew, that was one of the fairest dames of the world.\nBut I slew her not knowingly, for I meant rather to strike the knight,\nbut she leapt between us, like the hardiest dame that saw I ever.\"\n\n\"Sirs,\" saith the knight, \"Perceval and Lancelot, by the counsel of\nMessire Gawain, granted the treasure to the two damsels, sisters to the\nPoor Knight of the Waste Castle, whereupon let them send for Joseus the\nHermit and bid him guard the treasure until they shall come hither.\"\n\nAnd Joseus said that he would do so, and is right glad that the robbers\nof the forest are made away withal, that had so often made assault upon\nhim.  He guarded the treasure and the hold right safely in the forest;\nbut the dread and the renown of the good knights that had freed the\nforest went far and wide.  The knight that led the three destriers was\nright joyfully received at the Waste Castle; and when he told the\nmessage wherewith he was charged by Messire Gawain, the Poor Knight and\ntwo damsels made great joy thereof.  Perceval taketh leave of Messire\nGawain and Lancelot, and saith that never will he rest again until he\nshall have found his sister and his widow mother.  They durst not\ngainsay him, for they know well that he is right, and he prayeth them\nright sweetly that they salute the King and Queen and all the good\nknights of the court, for, please God, he will go see them at an early\nday.  But first he was fain to fulfil the promise King Arthur made to\nhis sister, for he would not that the King should be blamed in any\nplace as concerning him, nor by his default; and he himself would have\nthe greater blame therein and he succoured her not, for the matter\ntouched him nearer than it did King Arthur.\n\n\nVII.\n\nWith that the Good Knight departeth, and they commend him to God, and\nhe them in like sort.  Messire Gawain and Lancelot go their way back\ntoward the court of King Arthur, and Perceval goeth amidst strange\nforests until he cometh to a forest far away, wherein, so it seemed\nhim, he had never been before.  And he passed through a land that\nseemed him to have been laid waste, for it was all void of folk.  Wild\nbeast only seeth he there, that ran through the open country.  He\nentered into a forest in this waste country, and found a hermitage in\nthe combe of a mountain.  He alighted without and heard that the hermit\nwas singing the service of the dead, and had begun the mass with a\nrequiem betwixt him and his clerk.  He looketh and seeth a pall spread\nupon the ground before the altar as though it were over a corpse.  He\nwould not enter the chapel armed, wherefore he hearkened to the mass\nfrom without right reverently, and showed great devotion as he that\nloved God much and was a-dread.  When the mass was sung, and the hermit\nwas disarmed of the armour of Our Lord, he cometh to Perceval and\nsaluteth him and Perceval him again.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"For whom have you done such service? meseemed\nthat the corpse lay therewithin for whom the service was ordained.\"\n\n\"You say truth,\" saith the hermit. \"I have done it for Lohot, King\nArthur's son, that lieth buried under this pall.\"\n\n\"Who, then, hath slain him?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"That will I tell you plainly,\" saith the hermit.\n\n\nVIII.\n\n\"This wasted land about this forest wherethrough you have come is the\nbeginning of the kingdom of Logres.  There wont to be therein a Giant\nso big and horrible and cruel that none durst won within half a league\nround about, and he destroyed the land and wasted it in such sort as\nyou see. Lohot was departed from the land and the court of King Arthur\nhis father in quest of adventure, and by the will of God arrived at\nthis forest, and fought against Logrin, right cruel as he was, and\nLogrin against him.  As it pleased God, Lohot vanquished him; but Lohot\nhad a marvellous custom: when he had slain a man, he slept upon him.  A\nknight of King Arthur's court, that is called Kay the Seneschal, was\ncome peradventure into this forest of Logres.  He heard the Giant roar\nwhen Lohot dealt him the mortal blow.  Thither came he as fist as he\nmight, and found the King's son sleeping upon Logrin.  He drew his\nsword and therewith cut off Lohot's head, and took the head and the\nbody and set them in a coffin of stone.  After that he hacked his\nshield to pieces with his sword, that he should not be recognised; then\ncame he to the Giant that lay dead, and so cut oft his head, that was\nright huge and hideous, and hung it at his fore saddle-bow.  Then went\nhe to the court of King Arthur and presented it to him.  The King made\ngreat joy thereof and all they of the court, and the King made broad\nhis lands right freely for that he believed Kay had spoken true.  I\nwent,\" saith the hermit, \"on the morrow to the piece of land where the\nGiant lay dead, as a damsel came within here to tell me with right\ngreat joy.  I found the corpse of the Giant so big that I durst not\ncome a-nigh it.  The damsel led me to the coffin where the King's son\nwas lying.  She asked the head of me as her guerdon, and I granted it\nto her willingly.  She set it forthwith in a coffer laden with precious\nstones that was all garnished within of balsams.  After that, she\nhelped me carry the body into this chapel and enshroud and bury it.\n\n\nIX.\n\n\"Afterwards the damsel departed, nor have I never heard talk of her\nsince, nor do I make remembrance hereof for that I would King Arthur\nshould know it, nor for aught that I say thereof that he should do evil\nto the knight; for right sore sin should I have thereof, but deadly\ntreason and disloyalty hath he wrought.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"This is sore pity of the King's son, that he is\ndead in such manner, for I have heard witness that he ever waxed more\nand more in great chivalry, and, so the King knew thereof, Kay the\nSeneschal, that is not well-loved of all folk, would lose the court for\never more, or his life, so he might be taken, and this would be only\nright and just.\"\n\nPerceval lay the night in the hermitage, and departed on the morrow\nwhen he had heard mass.  He rideth through the forest as he that right\ngladly would hear tidings of his mother, nor never before hath he been\nso desirous thereof as is he now.  He heard, at right hour of noon, a\ndamsel under a tree that made greater dole than ever heard he damsel\nmake before.  She held her mule by the reins and was alighted a-foot\nand set herself on her knees toward the East.  She stretched her hands\nup toward heaven and prayed right sweetly the Saviour of the World and\nHis sweet Mother that they would send her succour betimes, for that the\nmost discounselled damsel of the world was she, and never was alms\ngiven to damsel to counsel her so well bestowed as it would be upon\nher, for that needs must she go to the most perilous place that is in\nthe world, and that, save she might bring some one with her, never\nwould that she had to do be done.\n\n\nX.\n\nPerceval drew himself up when he heard the damsel bemoaning thus. He\nwas in the shadow of the forest so that she saw him not.  The damsel\ncried out all weeping, \"Ha, King Arthur, great sin did you in\nforgetting to speak of my business to the knight that bare away the\nshield from your court, by whom would my mother have been succoured,\nthat now must lose her castle presently save God grant counsel herein;\nand so unhappy am I, that I have gone through all the lands of Great\nBritain, yet may I hear no tidings of my brother, albeit they say that\nhe is the Best Knight of the world.  But what availeth us his\nknighthood, when we have neither aid nor succour thereof?  So much the\ngreater shame ought he to have of himself, if he love his mother, as\nshe, that is the most gentle lady that liveth and the most loyal, hath\nhope that, and he knew, he would come thither.  Either he is dead or he\nis in lands so far away that none may hear tidings of him.  Ha, sweet\nLady, Mother of Our Saviour, aid us when we may have no aid of any\nother!  for if my lady mother loseth her castle, needs must we be\nforlorn wanderers in strange lands, for so have her brothers been long\ntime; he that had the most power and valour lieth in languishment, the\ngood King Fisherman that the King of Castle Mortal warreth on, albeit\nhe also is my uncle, my mother's brother, and would fain reave my\nuncle, that is his brother, of his castle by his felony.  Of a man so\nevil my lady mother looketh for neither aid nor succour.  And the good\nKing Pelles hath renounced his kingdom for the love of his Saviour, and\nhath entered into a hermitage.  He likewise is brother of my mother,\nand behoveth him make war upon none, for the most worshipful hermit is\nhe of the world.  And all they on my father's side have died in arms.\nEleven were there of them, and my father was the twelfth.  Had they\nremained on live, well able would they have been to succour us, but the\nknight that was first at the Graal hath undone us, for through him our\nuncle fell in languishment, in whom should have been our surest\nsuccour.\"\n\n\nXI.\n\nAt this word Perceval rode forward, and the damsel heareth him. She\nriseth up, and looketh backward and seeth the knight come, the shield\nat his neck banded argent and azure, with a red cross. She clasped her\ntwo hands toward heaven, and saith, \"Ha, sweet Lady that didst bear the\nSaviour of the World, you have not forgotten me, nor never may be\ndiscounselled he nor she that calleth upon you with the heart.  Here\nsee I the knight come of whom we shall have aid and succour, and our\nLord God grant him will to do His pleasure, and lend him courage and\nstrength to protect us!\"\n\nShe goeth to meet him, and holdeth his stirrup and would have kissed\nhis foot, but he avoideth it and crieth to her: \"Ill do you herein,\ndamsel!\"  And therewith she melteth in tears of weeping and prayeth him\nright sweetly.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Of such pity as God had of His most sweet Mother on\nthat day He took His death, when He beheld Her at the foot of the\ncross, have pity and mercy of my lady mother and of me.  For, and your\naid fail us, we know not to whom to fly for rescue, for I have been\ntold that you are the Best Knight of the world.  And for obtaining of\nyour help went I to King Arthur's court.  Wherefore succour us for\npity's sake and God's and for nought beside, for, so please you, it is\nyour duty so to do, albeit, had you been my brother that is also such a\nknight as you, whom I cannot find, I might have called upon you of a\ngreater right.  Sir,\" saith she, \"Do you remember you of the brachet\nyou had at the court waiting for you until such time as you should come\nfor the shield, and that went away with you, how he would never make\njoy nor know any save me alone?  By this know I well that if you knew\nthe soreness of our need you would succour us.  But King Arthur, that\nshould have prayed you thereof, forgat it.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"so much hath he done that he hath not failed of\nhis covenant with you, for he sent for me by the two best knights of\nhis court, and, so I may speed, so much will I do herein as that God\nand he shall be well pleased thereof.\"\n\n\nXII.\n\nThe damsel had right great joy of the knight that he should grant her\nhis aid, but she knew not he was her brother, or otherwise she would\nhave doubled her joy.  Perceval knoweth well that she is his sister,\nbut he would not yet discover himself and manifest his pity outwardly.\nHe helpeth the damsel to mount again and they rode on together.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"Needs must I go to-night by myself to the\nGrave-yard Perilous.\"\n\n\"Wherefore go you thither?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I have made vow thereof, and moreover a holy hermit\nhath told me that the knight that warreth upon us may not be overcome\nof no knight, save I bring him not some of the cloth wherewith the\naltar in the chapel of the Grave-yard Perilous is covered.  The cloth\nis of the most holiest, for our Lord God was covered therewith in the\nHoly Sepulchre, on the third day when He came back from death to life.\nNor none may enter the holy grave-yard that bringeth another with him,\nwherefore behoveth me go by myself, and may God save my life this\nnight, for the place is sore perilous, and so ought I greatly to hate\nhim that hath procured me this dolour and travail.  Sir,\" saith she,\n\"You will go your way toward the castle of Camelot: there is the Widow\nLady my mother, that awaiteth the return and the succour of the Good\nKnight, and may you remember to succour and aid us when you shall see\nhow sore is our need of succour.\n\n\nXIII.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Perceval, \"So God allow me I will aid you to the utmost\nof my power.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"See, this is my way, that is but little frequented,\nfor I tell you that no knight durst tread therein without great peril\nand great dread.  And our Lord God have your body in keeping, for mine\nown this night shall be in sore jeopardy and hazard.\"\n\nPerceval departeth from the damsel, his sister, and hath right great\npity for that she goeth in so perilous place all alone. Natheless would\nhe nor forbid her, for he knew well that she might not go thither with\nhim nor with other, sith that such was the custom of the grave-yard\nthat twain might not pass the entrance, wherefore needs must one remain\nwithout.  Perceval was not willing that his sister should break her\nvow, for never none of his lineage did at any time disloyalty nor base\ndeed knowingly, nor failed of nought that they had in covenant, save\nonly the King of Castle Mortal, from whom he had as much evil as he had\ngood of the others.\n\n\nXIV.\n\nThe damsel goeth her way all alone and all forlorn toward the\ngrave-yard and the deep of the forest, all dark and shadowy.  She hath\nridden until the sun was set and the night draweth nigh. She looketh\nbefore her and seeth a cross, high and wide and thick.  And on this\ncross was the figure of Our Lord graven, whereof is she greatly\ncomforted.  She draweth nigh the cross, and so kisseth and adoreth it,\nand prayeth the Saviour of the world that was nailed on Holy Rood that\nHe would bring her forth of the burial-ground with honour.  The cross\nwas at the entrance of the grave-yard, that was right spacious, for,\nfrom such time as the land was first peopled of folk, and that knights\nbegan to seek adventure by the forest, not a knight had died in the\nforest, that was full great of breadth and length, but his body was\nborne thither, nor might never knight there be buried that had not\nreceived baptism and had repented him not of his sins at his death.\n\n\nXV.\n\nThereinto entered the damsel all alone, and found great multitude of\ntombs and coffins.  Nor none need wonder whether she had shuddering and\nfear, for such place must needs be dreadful to a lonely damsel, there\nwhere lay so many knights that had been slain in arms.  Josephus the\ngood clerk witnesseth us that within the grave-yard might no evil\nspirit meddle, for that Saint Andrew the apostle had blessed it with\nhis hand.  But never might no hermit remain within for the evil things\nthat appeared each night all round about, that took the shapes of the\nknights that were dead in the forest, wherof the bodies lay not in the\nblessed burial-ground.\n\n\nXVI.\n\nThe damsel beholdeth their sepulchres all round about the graveyard\nwhereinto she was come.  She seeth them surrounded of knights, all\nblack, and spears had they withal, and came one against another, and\nmade such uproar and alarm as it seemed all the forest resounded\nthereof.  The most part held swords all red as of fire, and ran either\nupon other, and gashed one another's hands and feet and nose and face.\nAnd great was the clashing they made, but they could not come a-nigh\nthe grave-yard.  The damsel seeth them, and hath such affright thereof\nthat she nigh fell to the ground in a swoon.  The mule whereon she sate\ndraweth wide his nostrils and goeth in much fear.  The damsel signeth\nher of the cross and commendeth her to the Saviour and to His sweet\nMother.  She looketh before her to the head of the grave-yard, and\nseeth the chapel, small and ancient.  She smiteth her mule with her\nwhip, and cometh thitherward and alighteth.  She entered therewithin\nand found a great brightness of light.  Within was an image of Our\nLady, to whom she prayeth right sweetly that She will preserve her\nsenses and her life and enable her to depart in safety from this\nperilous place.  She seeth above the altar the most holy cloth for the\nwhich she was come thither, that was right ancient, and a smell came\nthereof so sweet and glorious that no sweetness of the world might\nequal it.  The damsel cometh toward the altar thinking to take the\ncloth, but it goeth up into the air as if the wind had lifted it, and\nwas so high that she might not reach it above an ancient crucifix that\nwas there within.\n\n\"Ha, God!\" saith the damsel, \"It is for my sin and my disloyalty that\nthis most holy cloth thus draweth itself away from me!\"\n\n\nXVII.\n\n\"Fair Father God, never did I evil to none, nor never did I shame nor\nsinned deadly in myself, nor never wrought against your will, so far as\nin me lay, but rather do I serve you and love and fear you and your\nsweet Mother; and all the tribulation I receive, accept I in patience\nfor your love, for well I know that such is your pleasure, nor have I\nno will to set myself against nought that pleaseth you.\n\n\nXVIII.\n\n\"When it shall please you, you will release me and my mother of the\ngrief and tribulation wherein we are.  For well you know that they have\nreaved her of her castles by wrong, and of her land, for that she is a\nWidow Lady without help.  Lord, you who have all the world at your\nmercy and do your commandment in all things, grant me betimes to hear\ntidings of my brother and he be on live, for sore need have we of him.\nAnd so lend force to the knight and power against all our enemies, that\nfor your love and for pity is fain to succour and aid my mother that is\nsore discounselled.  Lord, well might it beseem you to remember of your\npity and the sweetness that is in you, and of compassion that she hath\nbeen unrighteously disherited, and that no succour nor aid nor counsel\nhath she, save of you alone.  You are her affiance and her succour, and\ntherefore ought you to remember that the good knight Joseph of\nAbarimacie, that took down your Body when it hung upon the rood, was\nher own uncle.  Better loved he to take down your Body than all the\ngold and all the fee that Pilate might give him.  Lord, good right of\nvery truth had he so to do, for he took you in his arms beside the\nrood, and laid your Body in the holy sepulchre, wherein were you\ncovered of the sovran cloth for the which have I come in hither.  Lord,\ngrant it be your pleasure that I may have it, for love of the knight by\nwhom it was set in this chapel; sith that I am of his lineage it ought\nwell to manifest itself in this sore need, so it come according to your\npleasure.\"\n\nForthwith the cloth came down above the altar, and she straightway\nfound taken away therefrom as much as it pleased Our Lord she should\nhave.  Josephus telleth us of a truth, that never did none enter into\nthe chapel that might touch the cloth save only this one damsel.  She\nset her face to it and her mouth or ever the cloth removed.\n\n\nXIX.\n\nThereafter, she took the piece that God would and set it near herself\nfull worshipfully, but still the stout went on of the evil spirits\nround about the church-yard, and they dealt one another blows so sore\nthat all the forest resounded thereof, and it seemed that it was all\nset on fire of the flame that issued from them.  Great fear would the\ndamsel have had of them, had she not comforted herself in God and in\nHis dear, sweet Mother, and the most holy cloth that was within there.\nA Voice appeared upon the stroke of midnight from above the chapel, and\nspeaketh to the souls whereof the bodies lie within the grave-yard:\n\"How sore loss hath befallen you of late, and all other whose bodies\nlie in other hallowed church-yards by the forests of this kingdom!  For\nthe good King Fisherman is dead that made every day our service be done\nin the most holy chapel there where the most Holy Graal every day\nappeared, and where the Mother of God abode from the Saturday until the\nMonday that the service was finished.  And now hath the King of Castle\nMortal seized the castle in such sort that never sithence hath the Holy\nGraal appeared, and all the other hallows are hidden, so that none\nknoweth what hath become of the priests that served in the chapel, nor\nthe twelve ancient knights, nor the damsels that were therein.  And\nyou, damsel, that are within, have no affiance in the aid of strange\nknight in this need, for succoured may you never be save of your\nbrother only!\"\n\n\nXX.\n\nWith that the Voice is still, and a wailing and a lamentation goeth up\nfrom the bodies that lay in the church-yard, so dolorous that no man is\nthere in the world but should have pity thereof, and all the evil\nspirits that were without departed groaning and making so mighty uproar\nat their going away that it seemed the earth trembled.  The damsel\nheard the tidings of her uncle that was dead, and fell on the ground in\na swoon, and when she raised herself, took on to lament and cried: \"Ha,\nGod!  Now have we lost the most comfort and the best friend that we\nhad, and hereof am I again discomforted that I may not be succoured in\nthis my next need by the Good Knight of whom I thought to have succour\nand aid, and that was so fain to render it.  Now shall I know not what\nto ask of him, for he would grant it right willingly, and may God be as\npleased with him thereof as if he had done it.\"\n\nThe damsel was in sore misdoubting and dismay, for she knew not who the\nknight was, and great misgiving had she of her uncle's death and right\nsore sorrow.  She was in the chapel until it was day, and then\ncommended herself to God and departed and mounted on her mule and\nissued forth of the church-yard full speed, all alone.\n\n\nXXI.\n\nThe story saith that the damsel went her way toward her mother's castle\nas straight as she might, but sore dismayed was she of the Voice that\nhad told her she might not be succoured save of her brother alone.  She\nhath ridden so far of her journeys that she is come to the Valley of\nCamelot, and seeth her mother's castle that was surrounded of great\nrivers, and seeth Perceval, that was alighted under the shadow of a\ntree at the top of the forest in order that he might behold his\nmother's castle, whence he went forth squire what time he slew the\nKnight of the Red Shield. When he had looked well at the castle and the\ncountry round about, much pleasure had he thereof, and mounted again\nforthwith. Thereupon, behold you, the damsel cometh.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"In sore travail and jeopardy have I been sithence\nthat last I saw you, and tidings have I heard as bad as may be, and\nright grievous for my mother and myself.  For King Fisherman mine uncle\nis dead, and another of my uncles, the King of Castle Mortal, hath\nseized his castle, albeit my lady mother ought rather to have it, or I,\nor my brother.\"\n\n\"Is it true,\" saith Perceval, \"that he is dead?\"\n\n\"Yea, certes, Sir, I know it of a truth.\"\n\n\"So help me God!\" saith he, \"This misliketh me right sore.  I thought\nnot that he would die so soon, for I have not been to see him of a long\ntime.\"\n\n\nXXII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I am much discomforted as concerning you, for I have\nlikewise been told that no force nor aid of any knight may avail to\nsuccour nor aid me from this day forward save my brother's help alone.\nWherefore, and it be so, we have lost all, for my lady mother hath\nrespite to be in her castle only until the fifteenth day from to-day,\nand I know not where to seek my brother, and the day is so nigh as you\nhear.  Now behoveth us do the best we may and abandon this castle\nbetimes, nor know I any refuge that we now may have save only King\nPelles in the hermitage.  I would fain that my lady mother were there,\nfor he would not fail us.\"\n\nPerceval is silent, and hath great pity in his heart of this that the\ndamsel saith.  She followeth him weeping, and pointeth out to him the\nValleys of Camelot and the castles that were shut in by combes and\nmountains, and the broad meadow-lands and the forest that girded them\nabout.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"All this hath the Lord of the Moors reaved of my\nlady mother, and nought coveteth he so much as to have this castle, and\nhave it he will, betimes.\"\n\n\nXXIII.\n\nWhen they had ridden until that they drew nigh the castle, the Lady was\nat the windows of the hall and knew her daughter.\n\n\"Ha, God!\" saith the Lady, \"I see there my daughter coming, and a\nknight with her.  Fair Father God, grant of your pleasure that it be my\nson, for and it be not he, I have lost my castle and mine heirs are\ndisherited.\"\n\nPerceval cometh nigh the castle in company with his sister, and knoweth\nagain the chapel that stood upon four columns of marble between the\nforest and the castle, there where his father told him how much ought\nhe to love good knights, and that none earthly thing might be of\ngreater worth, and how none might know yet who lay in the coffin until\nsuch time as the Best Knight of the world should come thither, but that\nthen should it be known.  Perceval would fain have passed by the\nchapel, but the damsel saith to him: \"Sir, no knight passeth hereby\nsave he go first to see the coffin within the chapel.\"\n\nHe alighteth and setteth the damsel to the ground, and layeth down his\nspear and shield and cometh toward the tomb, that was right fair and\nrich.  He set his hand above it.  So soon as he came nigh, the\nsepulchre openeth on one side, so that one saw him that was within the\ncoffin.  The damsel falleth at his feet for joy.  The Lady had a custom\nsuch that every time a knight stopped at the coffin she made the five\nancient knights that she had with her in the castle accompany her,\nwherein they would never fail her, and bring her as far as the chapel.\nSo soon as she saw the coffin open and the joy her daughter made, she\nknew that it was her son, and ran to him and embraced him and kissed\nhim and began to make the greatest joy that ever lady made.\n\n\nXXIV.\n\n\"Now know I well,\" saith she, \"that our Lord God hath not forgotten me.\nSith that I have my son again, the tribulations and the wrongs that\nhave been done me grieve me not any more. Sir,\" saith she to her son,\n\"Now is it well known and proven that you are the Best Knight of the\nworld!  For otherwise never would the coffin have opened, nor would any\nhave known who he is that you now see openly.\"\n\nShe maketh her chaplain take certain letters that were sealed with gold\nin the coffin.  He looketh thereat and readeth, and then saith that\nthese letters witness of him that lieth in the coffin that he was one\nof them that helped to un-nail Our Lord from the cross.  They looked\nbeside him and found the pincers all bloody wherewith the nails were\ndrawn, but they might not take them away, nor the body, nor the coffin,\naccording as Josephus telleth us, for as soon as Perceval was forth of\nthe chapel, the coffin closed again and joined together even as it was\nbefore. The Widow Lady led her son with right great joy into her\ncastle, and recounted to him all the shame that had been done her, and\nalso how Messire Gawain had made safe the castle for a year by his good\nknighthood.\n\n\nXXV.\n\n\"Fair son,\" saith she, \"Now is the term drawn nigh when I should have\nlost my castle and you had not come.  But now know I well that it shall\nbe safe-guarded of you.  He that coveteth this castle is one of the\nmost outrageous knights on live.  And he hath reaved me of my land and\nthe Valleys of Camelot without reasonable occasion.  But, please God,\nyou shall well repair the harm he hath done you, for nought claim I any\nlonger of the land since you are come.  But so avenge your shame as to\nincrease your honour, for none ought to allow his right to be minished\nof an evil man, and the mischiefs that have been done me for that I had\nno aid, let them not wax cold in you, for a shame done to one valiant\nand strong ought not to wax cold in him, but rankle and prick in him,\nso ought he to have his enemies in remembrance without making semblant,\nbut so much as he shall show in his cheer and making semblant and his\nmenaces, so much ought he to make good in deed when he shall come in\nplace.  For one cannot do too much hurt to an enemy, save only one is\nwilling to let him be for God's sake.  But truth it is that the\nscripture saith, that one ought not to do evil to one's enemies, but\npray God that He amend them.  I would fain that our enemies were such\nthat they might amend toward us, and that they would do as much good to\nus without harming themselves as they have done evil, on condition that\nmine anger and yours were foregone against them.  Mine own anger I\nfreely forbear against them so far forth as concerneth myself, for no\nneed have I to wish evil to none, and Solomon telleth how the sinner\nthat curseth other sinner curseth himself likewise.\n\n\nXXVI.\n\n\"Fair son, this castle is yours, and this land round about whereof I\nhave been reft ought to be yours of right, for it falleth to you on\nbehalf of your father and me.  Wherefore send to the Lord of the Moors\nthat hath reft it from me, that he render it to you.  I make no further\nclaim, for I pass it on to you; for nought have I now to do with any\nland save only so much as will be enough wherein to bury my body when I\ndie, nor shall I now live much longer since King Fisherman my brother\nis dead, whereof right sorrowful am I at heart, and still more\nsorrowful should I be were it not for your coming.  And, son, I tell\nyou plainly that you have great blame of his death, for you are the\nknight through whom he fell first into languishment, for now at last I\nknow well that and if you had afterwards gone back and so made the\ndemand that you made not at the first, he would have come back to\nhealth.  But our Lord God willed it so to be, wherefore well beseemeth\nus to yield to His will and pleasure.\"\n\n\nXXVII.\n\nPerceval hath heard his mother, but right little hath he answered her,\nalbeit greatly is he pleased with whatsoever she hath said. His face is\nto-flushed of hardiment, and courage hath taken hold on him.  His\nmother looketh at him right fainly, and hath him disarmed and\napparelled in a right rich robe.  So comely a knight was he that in all\nthe world might not be found one of better seeming nor better shapen of\nbody.  The Lord of the Moors, that made full certain of having his\nmother's castle, knew of Perceval's coming.  He was not at all dismayed\nin semblant, nor would he stint to ride by fell nor forest, and every\nday he weened in his pride that the castle should be his own at the\nhour and the term he had set thereof.  One of the five knights of the\nWidow Lady was one day gone into the Lonely Forest after hart and hind,\nand had taken thereof at his will.  He was returning back to the castle\nand the huntsmen with him, when the Lord of the Moors met him and told\nhim he had done great hardiment in shooting with the bow in the forest,\nand the knight made answer that the forest was not his of right, but\nthe Lady's of Camelot and her son's that had repaired thither.\n\n\nXXVIII.\n\nThe Lord of the Moors waxed wroth.  He held a sword in his hand and\nthrust him therewith through the body and slew him.  The knight was\nborne dead to the castle of Camelot before the Widow Lady and her son.\n\n\"Fair son,\" saith the Widow Lady, \"More presents of such-like kind the\nLord of the Moors sendeth me than I would.  Never may he be satisfied\nof harming my land and shedding the blood of the bodies of my knights.\nNow may you well know how many a hurt he hath done me sithence that\nyour father hath been dead and you were no longer at the castle, sith\nthat this hath he done me even now that you are here.  You have the\nname of Perceval on this account, that tofore you were born, he had\nbegun to reave your father of the Valleys of Camelot, for your father\nwas an old knight and all his brethren were dead, and therefore he gave\nyou this name in baptism, for that he would remind you of the mischief\ndone to him and to you, and that you might help to retrieve it and you\nshould have the power.\"\n\nThe Dame maketh shroud the knight, for whom she is full sorrowful, and\non the morrow hath mass sung and burieth him. Perceval made arm two of\nthe old knights with him, then issued forth of the castle and entered\nthe great dark forest.  He rode until he came before a castle, and met\nfive knights that issued forth all armed.  He asked whose men they\nwere.  They answer, the Lord's of the Moors, and that he goeth seek the\nson of the Widow Lady that is in the forest.\n\n\"If we may deliver him up to our lord, good guerdon shal we have\nthereof.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Perceval, \"You have not far to seek.  I am here!\"\n\n\nXXIX.\n\nPerceval smiteth his horse of his spurs and cometh to the first in such\nsort that he passeth his spear right through his body and beareth him\nto the ground dead.  The other two knights each smote his man so that\nthey wounded them in the body right sore.  The other two would fain\nhave fled, but Perceval preventeth them, and they gave themselves up\nprisoners for fear of death.  He bringeth all four to the castle of\nCamelot and presenteth them to his lady mother.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"see here the quittance for your knight that was\nslain, and the fifth also remaineth lying on the piece of ground shent\nin like manner as was your own.\"\n\n\"Fair son,\" saith she, \"I should have better loved peace after another\nsort, and so it might be.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"Thus is it now.  One ought to make war against the\nwarrior, and be at peace with the peaceable.\"\n\nThe knights are put in prison.  The tidings are come to the Lord of the\nMoors that the son of the Widow Lady hath slain one of his knights and\ncarried off four to prison.  Thereof hath he right great wrath at\nheart, and sweareth and standeth to it that never will he be at rest\nuntil he shall have either taken or slain him, and that, so there were\nany knight in his land that would deliver him up, he would give him one\nof the best castles in his country. The more part are keen to take\nPerceval.  Eight came for that intent before him all armed in the\nforest of Camelot, and hunted and drove wild deer in the purlieus of\nthe forest so that they of the castle saw them.\n\n\nXXX.\n\nPerceval was in his mother's chapel, where he heard mass; and when the\nmass was sung, his sister said: \"Fair brother, see here the most holy\ncloth that I brought from the chapel of the Grave-yard Perilous.  Kiss\nit and touch it with your face, for a holy hermit told me that never\nshould our land be conquered back until such time as you should have\nhereof.\"\n\nPerceval kisseth it, then toucheth his eyes and face therewith.\nAfterward he goeth to arm him, and the four knights with him; then he\nissueth forth of the chamber and mounteth on his horse, then goeth out\nof the gateway like a lion unchained.  He sitteth on a tall horse all\ncovered.  He cometh nigh the eight knights that were all armed, man and\nhorse, and asketh them what folk they be and what they seek, and they\nsay that they are enemies of the Widow Lady and her son.\n\n\"Then you do I defy!\" saith Perceval.\n\nHe cometh to them a great run, and the four knights with him, and each\none overthroweth his own man so roughly that either he is wounded in\nhis body or maimed of arm or leg.  The rest held the melly to the\nutmost they might endure.  Perceval made take them and bring to the\ncastle, and the other five that they had overthrown.  The Lord of the\nMoors was come to shoot with a bow, and he heard the noise of the\nknights, and cometh thitherward a great gallop all armed.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith one of the old knights to Perceval, \"Look!  here is the\nLord of the Moors coming, that hath reft your mother of her land and\nslain her men.  Of him will it be good to take vengeance.  See, how\nboldly he cometh.\"\n\nPerceval looketh on him as he that loveth him not, and cometh toward\nhim as hard as his horse may carry him, and smiteth him right through\nthe breast so strongly that he beareth to the ground him and his horse\ntogether all in a heap.  He alighteth to the ground and draweth his\nsword.\n\n\"How?\" saith the Lord of the Moors, \"Would you then slay me and put me\nin worse plight than I am?\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Perceval, \"No, nor so swiftly, but I will slay you\nenough, betimes!\"\n\n\"So it seemeth you,\" saith the Lord of the Moors, \"But it shall not be\nyet!\"\n\nHe leapeth up on his feet and runneth on Perceval, sword drawn, as one\nthat fain would harm him if he might.  But Perceval defendeth himself\nas good knight should, and giveth such a buffet at the outset as\nsmiteth off his arm together with his sword. The knights that came\nafter fled back all discomfited when they saw their lord wounded.  And\nPerceval made lift him on a horse and carry him to the castle and\npresenteth him to his mother.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"See here the Lord of the Moors!  Well might you\nexpect him eftsoons, sith that you were to have yielded him up your\ncastle the day after to-morrow!\"\n\n\nXXXI.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith the Lord of the Moors, \"Your son hath wounded me and\ntaken my knights and myself likewise.  I will yield you up your castle\nalbeit I hold it mine as of right, on condition you cry me quit.\"\n\n\"And who shall repay her,\" saith Perceval, \"for the shame that you have\ndone her, for her knights that you have slain, whereof never had you\npity?  Now, so help me God, if she have mercy or pity upon you, never\nhereafter will I trouble to come to her aid how sore soever may be her\nneed.  Such pity and none other as you have had for her and my sister\nwill I have for you.  Our Lord God commanded in both the Old Law and\nthe New, that justice should be done upon man-slayers and traitors, and\njustice will I do upon you that His commandment be not transgressed.\"\n\nHe hath a great vat made ready in the midst of the court, and maketh\nthe eleven knights be brought. H e maketh their heads be stricken off\ninto the vat and bleed therein as much blood as might come from them,\nand then made the heads and the bodies be drawn forth so that nought\nwas there but blood in the vat.  After that, he made disarm the Lord of\nthe Moors and be brought before the vat wherein was great abundance of\nblood.  He made bind his feet and his hands right strait, and after\nthat saith: \"Never might you be satisfied of the blood of the knights\nof my lady mother, now will I satisfy you of the blood of your own\nknights!\"\n\nHe maketh hang him by the feet in the vat, so that his head were in the\nblood as far as the shoulders, and so maketh him be held there until\nthat he was drowned and quenched.  After that, he made carry his body\nand the bodies of the other knights and their heads, and made them be\ncast into an ancient charnel that was beside an old chapel in the\nforest, and the vat together with the blood made he be cast into the\nriver, so that the water thereof was all bloody.  The tidings came to\nthe castles that the son of the Widow Lady had slain the Lord of the\nMoors and the best of his knights.  Thereof were they in sore\nmisgiving, and the most part said that the like also would he do to\nthem save they held themselves at his commandment.  They brought him\nthe keys of all the castles that had been reft of his mother, and all\nthe knights that had before renounced their allegiance returned\nthereunto and pledged themselves to be at his will for dread of death.\nAll the land was assured in safety, nor was there nought to trouble the\nLady's joy save only that King Fisherman her brother was dead, whereof\nshe was right sorrowful and sore afflicted.\n\n\nXXXII.\n\nOne day the Widow Lady sate at meat, and there was great plenty of\nknights in the hall.  Perceval sate him beside his sister. Thereupon,\nbehold you the Damsel of the Car that came with the other two damsels\nbefore the Widow Lady and her son, and saluted them right nobly.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Perceval, \"Good adventure may you have!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"You have speeded right well of your business here,\nnow go speed it elsewhere, for thereof is the need right sore.  King\nHermit, that is your mother's brother, sendeth you word that, and you\ncome not with haste into the land that was King Fisherman's your uncle,\nthe New Law that God hath stablished will be sore brought low.  For the\nKing of Castle Mortal, that hath seized the land and castle, hath made\nbe cried throughout all the country how all they that would fain\nmaintain the Old Law and abandon the New shall have protection of him\nand counsel and aid, and they that will not shall be destroyed and\noutlawed.\"\n\n\"Ha, fair son,\" saith the Widow Lady, \"Now have you heard the great\ndisloyalty of the evil man that is my brother, whereof am I right\nsorrowful, for that he is of my kindred.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Perceval, \"Your brother nor my uncle is he no longer,\nsith that he denieth God!  Rather is he our mortal enemy that we ought\nof right to hate more than any stranger!\"\n\n\nXXXIII.\n\n\"Fair son,\" saith the Widow Lady, \"I pray and beseech you that the Law\nof the Saviour be not set aside in forgetfulness and neglect there\nwhere you may exalt it, for better Lord in no wise may you serve, nor\none that better knoweth how to bestow fair guerdon.  Fair son, none may\nbe good knight that serveth Him not and loveth Him.  Take heed that you\nbe swift in His service nor delay not for no intent, but be ever at His\ncommandment alike at eventide as in the morning, so shall you not bely\nyour lineage. And the Lord God grant you good intent therein and good\nwill to go on even as you have begun.\"\n\nThe Widow Lady, that much loved her son, riseth up from the tables, and\nall the other knights, and seemeth it that she is Lady of her land in\nsuch sort as that never was she better.  But full often doth she give\nthanks to the Saviour of the World with her whole heart, and prayeth\nHim of His pleasure grant her son length of life for the amendment both\nof soul and body.  Perceval was with his mother of a long space, and\nwith his sister, and was much feared and honoured of all the knights of\nthe land, alike for his great wisdom and great pains-taking, as well as\nfor the valour of his knighthood.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XVI.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nThis High History saith that Messire Gawain and Lancelot were repaired\nto the court of King Arthur from the quest they had achieved.  The King\nmade great joy thereof and the Queen.  King Arthur sate one day at meat\nby the side of the Queen, and they had been served of the first meats.\nThereupon come two knights all armed, and each bore a dead knight\nbefore him, and the knights were still armed as they had been when\ntheir bodies were alive.\n\n\"Sir,\" say the knights, \"This shame and this mischief is yours. In like\nmanner will you lose all your knights betimes and God love you not well\nenough to give counsel herein forthwith of his mercy.\"\n\n\"Lords,\" saith the King, \"How came these knights to be in so evil case?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" say they, \"It is of good right you ought to know.  The Knight of\nthe Fiery Dragon is entered into the head of your land, and is\ndestroying knights and castles and whatsoever he may lay hands on, in\nsuch sort that none durst contend against him, for he is taller by a\nfoot than any knight ever you had, and of grisly cheer, and so is his\nsword three times bigger than the sword of ever another knight, and his\nspear is well as heavy as a man may carry.  Two knights might lightly\ncover them of his shield, and it hath on the outer side the head of a\ndragon that casteth forth fire and flame whensoever he will, so eager\nand biting that none may long endure his encounter.\"\n\n\nII.\n\n\"None other, how strong soever he be, may stand against him, and, even\nas you see, hath he burnt and evil-entreated all other knights that\nhave withstood him.\"\n\n\"From what land hath come such manner of man?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" say the knights, \"He is come from the Giant's castle, and he\nwarreth upon you for the love of Logrin the Giant, whose head Messire\nKay brought you into your court, nor never, saith he, will he have joy\nuntil such time as he shall have avenged him on your body or upon the\nknight that you love best.\"\n\n\"Our Lord God,\" saith the King, \"Will defend us from so evil a man.\"\n\nHe is risen from the table, all scared, and maketh carry the two dead\nknights to be buried, and the others turn back again when they have\ntold their message.  The King calleth Messire Gawain and Lancelot and\nasketh them what he shall do of this knight that is entered into his\nland?\n\n\"By my head, I know not what to say, save you give counsel herein.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"We will go against him, so please you, I and\nMessire Gawain between us.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the King, \"I would not let you go for a kingdom,\nfor such man as is this is no knight but a devil and a fiend that hath\nissued from the borders of Hell.  I say not but that it were great\nworship and prize to slay and conquer him, but he that should go\nagainst him should set his own life in right sore jeopardy and run\ngreat hazard of being in as bad plight as these two knights I have\nseen.\"\n\nThe King was in such dismay that he knew not neither what to say nor to\ndo, and so was all the court likewise in such sort as no knight neither\none nor another was minded to go to battle with him, and so remained\nthe court in great dismay.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XVII.\n\nINCIPIT.\n\nHere beginneth one of the master branches of the Graal in the name of\nthe Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.\n\n\nTITLE I.\n\nPerceval had been with his mother as long as it pleased him.  He hath\ndeparted with her good will and the good will of his sister, and\ntelleth them he will return into the land as speedily as he may.  He\nentereth into the great Lonely Forest, and rideth so far on his\njourneys that he cometh one day at the right hour of noon into a\npassing fair launde, and seeth a forest.  He looketh amidst the launde\nand seeth a red cross.  He looketh to the head of the launde and seeth\na right comely knight sitting in the shadow of the forest, and he was\nclad in white garments and held a vessel of gold in his hand.  At the\nother end of the launde he seeth a damsel likewise sitting, young and\ngentle and of passing great beauty, and she was clad in a white samite\ndropped of gold. Josephus telleth us by the divine scripture that out\nof the forest issued a beast, white as driven snow, and it was bigger\nthan a fox and less than a hare.  The beast came into the launde all\nscared, for she had twelve hounds in her belly, that quested within\nlike as it were hounds in a wood, and she fled adown the launde for\nfear of the hounds, the questing whereof she had within her.  Perceval\nrested on the shaft of his spear to look at the marvel of this beast,\nwhereof he had right great pity, so gentle was she of semblance, and of\nso passing beauty, and by her eyes it might seem that they were two\nemeralds.  She runneth to the knight, all affrighted, and when she hath\nbeen there awhile and the hounds rend her again, she runneth to the\ndamsel, but neither there may she stay long time, for the hounds that\nare within her cease not of their questing, whereof is she sore adread.\n\n\nII.\n\nShe durst not venture herself in the forest.  She seeth Perceval and so\ncometh toward him for protection.  She maketh as though she would lie\ndown on his horse's neck, and he holdeth forth his hands to receive her\nthere so as that she might not hurt herself, and evermore the hounds\nquested.  Howbeit the knight crieth out to him, \"Sir Knight, let the\nbeast go and hold her not, for this belongeth neither to you nor to\nother, but let her dree her weird.\"\n\nThe beast seeth that no protection hath she.  She goeth to the cross,\nand forthwith might the hounds no longer be in her, but issued forth\nall as it were live hounds, but nought had they of her gentleness nor\nher beauty.  She humbled herself much among them and crouched on the\nground and made semblant as though she would have cried them mercy, and\ngat herself as nigh the cross as she might.  The hounds had compassed\nher round about and ran in upon her upon all sides and tore her all to\npieces with their teeth, but no power had they to devour her flesh, nor\nto remove it away from the cross.\n\n\nIII.\n\nWhen the hounds had all to-mangled the beast, they fled away into the\nwood as had they been raging mad.  The knight and the damsel came there\nwhere the beast lay in pieces at the cross, and so taketh each his part\nand setteth the same on their golden vessels, and took the blood that\nlay upon the earth in like manner as the flesh, and kiss the place, and\nadore the cross, and then betake them into the forest.  Perceval\nalighteth and setteth him on his knees before the cross and so hisseth\nand adoreth it, and the place where the beast was slain, in like manner\nas he had seen the knight and damsel do; and there came to him a smell\nso sweet of the cross and of the place, such as no sweetness may be\ncompared therewith.  He looketh and seeth coming from the forest two\npriests all afoot; and the first shouteth to him: \"Sir Knight, withdraw\nyourself away from the cross, for no right have you to come nigh it.\":\nPerceval draweth him back, and the priest kneeleth before the cross and\nadoreth it and boweth down and kisseth it more than a score times, and\nmanifesteth the most joy in the world.  And the other priest cometh\nafter, and bringeth a great rod, and setteth the first priest aside by\nforce, and beateth the cross with the rod in every part, and weepeth\nright passing sore.\n\n\nIV.\n\nPerceval beholdeth him with right great wonderment, and saith unto him,\n\"Sir, herein seem you to be no priest!  wherefore do you so great\nshame?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the priest, \"It nought concerneth you of whatsoever we may\ndo, nor nought shall you know thereof for us!\"\n\nHad he not been a priest, Perceval would have been right wroth with\nhim, but he had no will to do him any hurt.  Therewithal he departeth\nand mounteth his horse and entereth the forest again, all armed, but\nscarce had he ridden away in such sort or ever he met the Knight\nCoward, that cried out to him as far as he could see him, \"Sir, for\nGod's sake, take heed to yourself!\"\n\n\"What manner man are you?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"My name is the Knight Coward, and I am man of the\nDamsel of the Car.  Wherefore I pray you for God's sake and for your\nown valour that you touch me not.\"\n\nPerceval looketh on him and seeth him tall and comely and well-shapen\nand adroit and all armed upon his horse, so he saith to him, \"Sith that\nyou are so coward, wherefore are you armed thus?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Against the evil intent of any knight of whom I am\nadread, for such an one might haply meet me as would slay me forthwith.\"\n\n\nV.\n\n\"Are you so coward as you say?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Yea,\" saith he, \"And much more.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith he, \"I will make you hardy.  Come now along with\nme, for sore pity is it that cowardize should harbour in so comely a\nknight.  I am fain that your name be changed speedily, for such name\nbeseemeth no knight.\"\n\n\"Ha, Sir, for God's sake, mercy!  Now know I well that you desire to\nslay me!  No will have I to change neither my courage nor my name!\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Perceval, \"Then will you die therefor, betimes!\"\n\nHe maketh him go before him, will he or nill he; and the knight goeth\naccordingly with right sore grudging.  They had scarce ridden away,\nwhen he heard in the forest off the way, two damsels that bewailed them\nright sore, and prayed our Lord God send them succour betimes.\n\n\nVI.\n\nPerceval cometh towards them, he and the knight he driveth before him\nperforce, and seeth a tall knight all armed that leadeth the damsels\nall dishevelled, and smiteth them from time to time with a great rod,\nso that the blood ran down their faces.\n\n\"Ha, Sir Knight,\" saith Perceval, \"What ask you of these two damsels\nthat you entreat so churlishly?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"They have disherited me of mine own hold in this\nforest that Messire Gawain gave them.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" say they to Perceval, \"This knight is a robber, and none other\nbut he now wonneth in this forest, for the other robber-knights were\nslain by Messire Gawain and Lancelot and another knight that came with\nthem, and, for the sore suffering and poverty that Messire Gawain and\nLancelot saw in us aforetime, and in the house of my brother in whose\ncastle they lay, were they fain to give us this hold and the treasure\nthey conquered from the robber-knights, and for this doth he now lead\nus away to slay and destroy us, and as much would he do for you and all\nother knights, so only he had the power.\"\n\n\"Sir Knight,\" saith Perceval, \"Let be these damsels, for well I know\nthat they say true, for that I was there when the hold was given them.\"\n\n\"Then you helped to slay my kindred,\" saith the knight, \"And therefore\nyou do I defy!\"\n\n\"Ha,\" saith the Knight Coward to Perceval, \"Take no heed of that he\nsaith, and wax not wroth, but go your way!\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith Perceval, \"This will I not do: Rather will I help to\nchallenge the honour of the damsels.\"\n\n\nVII.\n\n\"Ha, Sir,\" saith the Knight Coward, \"Never shall it be challenged of\nme!\"\n\nPerceval draweth him back.  \"Sir,\" saith he, \"See here my champion that\nI set in my place.\"\n\nThe robber knight moveth toward him, and smiteth him so sore on the\nshield that he breaketh his spear, but he might not unseat the Coward\nKnight, that sate still upright as aforehand in the saddle-bows.  He\nlooketh at the other knight that hath drawn his sword.  The Knight\nCoward looketh on the one side and the other, and would fain have fled\nand he durst.  But Perceval crieth to him: \"Knight, do your endeavour\nto save my honour and your own life and the honour of these two\ndamsels!\"\n\nAnd the robber-knight dealeth him a great buffet of his sword so as\nthat it went nigh to stun him altogether.  Howbeit the Coward Knight\nmoveth not.  Perceval looketh at him in wonderment and thinketh him\nthat he hath set too craven a knight in his place, and now at last\nknoweth well that he spake truth.  The robber-knight smiteth him all\nover his body and giveth him so many buffets that the knight seeth his\nown blood.\n\n\"By my head,\" saith he, \"You have wounded me, but you shall pay\ntherefor, for I supposed not that you were minded to slay me!\"\n\nHe draweth his sword, that was sharp and strong, and smiteth his horse\nright sore hard of his spurs, and catcheth the knight with his sword\nright in the midst of his breast with a sweep so strong that he beareth\nhim to the ground beside his horse.  He alighteth over him, unlaceth\nhis ventail and smiteth down his coif, then striketh off his head and\npresenteth it to Perceval.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Here give I you of my first joust.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" said Perceval, \"Right dearly love I this present! Now\ntake heed that you never again fall back into the cowardize wherein you\nhave been.  For it is too sore shame to a knight!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"I will not, but never should I have believed that one\ncould become hardy so speedily, or otherwise long ago would I have\nbecome so, and so should I have had worship and honour thereof, for\nmany a knight hath held me in contempt herein, that elsewise would have\nhonoured me.\"\n\nPerceval answereth that right and reason it is that worshipful men\nshould be more honoured than the other.\n\n\"I commend these two damsels to your protection, and lead them to their\nhold in safety, and be at their pleasure and their will, and so say\neverywhere that you have for name the Knight Hardy, for more of\ncourtesy hath this name than the other.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"You say true, and you have I to thank for the name.\"\n\nThe damsels give great thanks to Perceval, and take leave of him, and\nso go their way with right good will toward the knight that goeth with\nthem on account of the knight he had slain, so that thereof called they\nhim the Knight Hardy.\n\n\nVIII.\n\nPerceval departeth from the place where the knight lieth dead, and\nrideth until that he draweth nigh to Cardoil where King Arthur was, and\nfindeth the country round in sore terror and dismay.  Much he\nmarvelleth wherefore it may be, and demandeth of some of the meaner\nsort wherefore they are in so sore affright.\n\n\"Doth the King, then, live no longer?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" say the most part, \"Yea, he is there within in this castle, but\nnever was he so destroyed nor so scared as he is at this present.  For\na knight warreth upon him against whom no knight in the world may\nendure.\"\n\nPerceval rideth on until he cometh before the master hall, and is\nalighted on the mounting-stage.  Lancelot and Messire Gawain come to\nmeet him and make much joy of him, as do the King and Queen and all\nthey of the court; and they made disarm him and do upon him a right\nrich robe.  They that had never seen him before looked upon him right\nfainly for the worship and valour of his knighthood.  The court also\nwas rejoiced because of him, for sore troubled had it been.  So as the\nKing sate one day at meat, there came four knights into the hall, and\neach one of them bore before him a dead knight.  And their feet and\narms had been stricken off, but their bodies were still all armed, and\nthe habergeons thereon were all black as though they had been blasted\nof lightning.  They laid the knights in the midst of the hall.\n\n\"Sir,\" say they to the King, \"Once more is made manifest this shame\nthat is done you that is not yet amended.  The Knight of the Dragon\ndestroyeth you your land and slayeth your men and cometh as nigh us as\nhe may, and saith that in your court shall never be found knight so\nhardy as that he durst abide him or assault him.\"\n\nRight sore shame hath the King of these tidings, and Messire Gawain and\nLancelot likewise.  Right sorrowful are they of heart for that the King\nwould not allow them to go thither.  The four knights turn back again\nand leave the dead knights in the hall, but the King maketh them be\nburied with the others.\n\n\nIX.\n\nA great murmuring ariseth amongst the knights in the hall, and the most\npart say plainly that they never heard tell of none that slew knights\nin such cruel sort, nor so many as did he; and that neither Messire\nGawain nor Lancelot ought to be blamed for that they went not thither,\nfor no knight in the world might conquer such a man and our Lord God\ndid not, for he casteth forth fire and flame from his shield whensoever\nhim listeth.  And while this murmur was going on between the knights\nall round about the hall, behold you therewithal the Damsel that made\nbear the knight in the horse-bier and cometh before the King.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I pray and beseech you that you do me right in your\ncourt.  See, here is Messire Gawain that was at the assembly in the Red\nLaunde where were many knights, and among them was the son of the Widow\nLady, that I see sitting beside you.  He and Messire Gawain were they\nthat won the most prize of the assembly. This knight had white arms,\nand they of the assembly said that he had better done than Messire\nGawain, for that he had been first in the assembly.  It had been\ngranted me, before the assembly began, that he that should do best\nthereat, should avenge the knight.  Sir, I have sought for him until I\nhave now found him at your court.  Wherefore I pray and beseech you\nthat you bid him do so much herein as that he be not blamed, for\nMessire Gawain well knoweth that I have spoken true.  But the knight\ndeparted so soon from the assembly, that I knew not what had become of\nhim, and Messire Gawain was right heavy for that he had departed, for\nhe was in quest of him, but knew him not.\"\n\n\nX.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Truth it is that he it was that did\nbest at the assembly in the Red Launde, and moreover, please God, well\nwill he fulfil his covenant towards you.\"\n\n\"Messire Gawain,\" saith Perceval, \"Meseemeth you did best above all\nother.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"You speak of your courtesy, but\nhowsoever I or other may have done, you had the prize therein by the\njudgment of the knights.  Of so much may I well call upon the damsel to\nbear witness.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Gramercy!  He ought not to deny me that I require of\nhim.  For the knight that I have so long followed about and borne on a\nbier was son of his uncle Elinant of Escavalon.\"\n\n\nXI.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Perceval, \"Take heed that you speak truth.  I know well\nthat Elinant of Escavalon was mine uncle on my father's side, but of\nhis son know I nought.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Of his deeds well deserved he to be known, for by\nhis great valour and hardiment came he by his death, and he had to name\nAlein of Escavalon.  The Damsel of the Circlet of Gold loved him of\npassing great love with all her might.  The comeliest knight that was\never seen of his age was he, and had he lived longer would have been\none of the best knights known, and of the great love she had in him\nmade she his body be embalmed when the Knight of the Dragon had slain\nhim, he that is so cruel and maketh desolate all the lands and all the\nislands.  The Damsel of the Circlet of Gold hath he defied in such sort\nthat already hath he slain great part of her knights, and she is held\nfast in her castle, so that she durst not issue forth, insomuch that\nall the knights that are there say, and the Lady of the castle also,\nthat he that shall avenge this knight shall have the Circlet of Gold,\nthat never before was she willing to part withal, and the fairest\nguerdon will that be that any knight may have.\"\n\n\nXII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Well behoveth you therefore, to do your best\nendeavour to avenge your uncle's son, and to win the Circlet of Gold,\nfor, and you slay the knight, you will have saved the land of King\nArthur that he threateneth to make desolate, and all the lands that\nmarch with his own, for no King hateth he so much as King Arthur on\naccount of the head of the Giant whereof he made such joy at his court.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Perceval, \"Where is the Knight of the Dragon?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"He is in the isles of the Elephants that wont to be\nthe fairest land and the richest in the world.  Now hath he made it all\ndesolate, they say, in such sort that none durst inhabit there, and the\nisland wherein he abideth is over against the castle of the Damsel of\nthe Golden Circlet, so that every day she seeth him carry knights off\nbodily from the forest that he slayeth and smiteth limb from limb,\nwhereof hath she right sore grief at heart.\"\n\n\nXIII.\n\nPerceval heareth this that the damsel telleth him, and marvelleth much\nthereat, and taketh thought within himself, sith that the adventure is\nthus thrown upon him, that great blame will he have thereof and he\nachieveth it not.  He taketh leave of the King and Queen, and so goeth\nhis way and departeth from the Court. Messire Gawain departeth and\nLancelot with him, and say they will bear him company to the piece of\nground, and they may go thither. Perceval holdeth their fellowship\nright dear.  The King and Queen have great pity of Perceval, and say\nall that never until now no knight went into jeopardy so sore, and that\nsore loss to the world will it be if there he should die.  They send to\nall the hermits and worshipful men in the forest of Cardoil and bid\nthem pray for Perceval that God defend him from this enemy with whom he\ngoeth forth to do battle.  Lancelot and Messire Gawain go with him by\nthe strange forests and by the islands, and found the forests all void\nand desolate and wasted in place after place. The Damsel followeth them\ntogether with the dead knight.  And so far have they wandered that they\ncome into the plain country before the forest.  So they looked before\nthem and saw a castle that was seated in the plain without the forest,\nand they saw that it was set in a right fair meadow-land, and was\nsurrounded of great running waters and girdled of high walls, and had\nwithin great halls with windows.  They draw nigh the castle and see\nthat it turneth all about faster than the wind may run, and it had at\nthe top the archers of crossbows of copper that draw their shafts so\nstrong that no armour in the world might avail against the stroke\nthereof.  Together with them were men of copper that turned and sounded\ntheir horns so passing loud that the ground all seemed to quake.  And\nunder the gateway were lions and bears chained, that roared with so\npassing great might and fury that all the ground and the valley\nresounded thereof.  The knights draw rein and look at this marvel.\n\n\"Lords,\" saith the damsel, \"Now may you see the Castle of Great\nEndeavour.  Messire Gawain and Lancelot, draw you back, and come not\nnigher the archers, for otherwise ye be but dead men.  And you, sir,\"\nsaith she to Perceval, \"And you would enter into this castle, lend me\nyour spear and shield, and so will I bear them before for warranty, and\nyou come after me and make such countenance as good knight should, and\nso shall you pass through into the castle.  But your fellows may well\ndraw back, for now is not the hour for them to pass.  None may pass\nthither save only he that goeth to vanquish the knight and win the\nGolden Circlet and the Graal, and do away the false law with its horns\nof copper.\"\n\n\nXIV.\n\nPerceval is right sorrowful when he heareth the damsel say that Messire\nGawain and Lancelot may not pass in thither with him albeit they be the\nbest knights in the world.  He taketh leave of them full sorrowfully,\nand they also depart sore grudgingly; but they pray him right sweetly,\nso Lord God allow him escape alive from the place whither he goeth,\nthat he will meet them again at some time and place, and at ease, in\nsuch sort as that they may see him without discognisance.  They wait\nawhile to watch the Good Knight, that hath yielded his shield and spear\nto the damsel.  She hath set his shield on the bier in front, then\npointeth out to them of the castle all openly the shield that belonged\nto the Good Soldier; after that she maketh sign that it belongeth to\nthe knight that is there waiting behind her. Perceval was without\nshield in the saddle-bows, and holdeth his sword drawn and planteth him\nstiffly in the stirrups after such sort as maketh them creak again and\nhis horse's chine swerve awry.  After that, he looketh at Lancelot and\nMessire Gawain.\n\n\"Lords,\" saith he, \"To the Saviour of the World commend I you.\"\n\nAnd they answer, \"May He that endured pain of His body on the Holy True\nCross protect him in his body and his soul and his life.\"\n\nWith that he smiteth with his spurs and goeth his way to the castle as\nfast as his horse may carry him,--toward the Turning Castle.  He\nsmiteth with his sword at the gate so passing strongly that he cut a\ngood three fingers into a shaft of marble. The lions and the beast that\nwere chained to guard the gate slink away into their dens, and the\ncastle stoppeth at once.  The archers cease to shoot.  There were three\nbridges before the castle that uplifted themselves so soon as he was\nbeyond.\n\n\nXV.\n\nLancelot and Messire Gawain departed thence when they had beholden the\nmarvel, but they were fain to go toward the castle when they saw it\nstop turning.  But a knight cried out to them from the battlements,\n\"Lords, and you come forward, the archers will shoot and the castle\nwill turn, and the bridges be lowered again, wherefore you would be\ndeceived herein.\"\n\nThey draw back, and hear made within the greatest joy that ever was\nheard, and they hear how the most part therewithin say that now is he\ncome of whom they shall be saved in twofold wise, saved as of life, and\nsaved as of soul, so God grant him to vanquish the knight that beareth\nthe spirit of the devil.  Lancelot and Messire Gawain turn them back\nthoughtful and all heavy for that they may not pass into the castle,\nfor none other passage might they see than this.  So they ride on,\nuntil that they draw nigh the Waste City where Lancelot slew the knight.\n\n\"Ha,\" saith he to Messire Gawain, \"Now is the time at hand that\nbehoveth me to die in this Waste City, and God grant not counsel\nherein.\"\n\nHe told Messire Gawain all the truth of that which had befallen him\ntherein.  So, even as he would have taken leave of him, behold you, the\nPoor Knight of the Waste Castle!\n\n\nXVI.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he to Lancelot, \"I have taken respite of you in the city\nwithin there, of the knight that you slew, until forty days after that\nthe Graal shall be achieved, nor have I issued forth of the castle\nwherein you harboured you until now, nor should I now have come forth\nhad I not seen you come for fulfilling of your pledge, nor never shall\nI come forth again until such time as you shall return hither on the\nday I have named to you.  And so, gramercy to you and Messire Gawain\nfor the horses you sent me, that were a right great help to us, and for\nthe treasure and the hold you have given to my sisters that were sore\npoverty-stricken. But I may not do otherwise than abide in my present\npoverty until such time as you shall be returned, on the day whereunto\nI have taken respite for you, sore against the will of your enemies,\nfor the benefits you have done me.  Wherefore I pray yon forget me not,\nfor the saving of your loyalty.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Lancelot, \"That will I not, and gramercy for having\nput off the day for love of me.\"\n\nThey depart from the knight and come back again toward Cardoil where\nKing Arthur was.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XVIII.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nHere the story is silent of Lancelot and Messire Gawain, and saith that\nPerceval is in the Turning Castle, whereof Joseus recounteth the truth,\nto wit, that Virgil founded it in the air by his wisdom in such\nfashion, when the philosophers went on the Quest of the Earthly\nParadise, and it was prophesied that the castle should not cease\nturning until such time as the Knight should come thither that should\nhave a head of gold, the look of a lion, a heart of steel, the navel of\na virgin maiden, conditions without wickedness, the valour of a man and\nfaith and belief of God; and that this knight should bear the shield of\nthe Good Soldier that took down the Saviour of the World from hanging\non the rood.  It was prophesied, moreover, that all they of the castle\nand all other castles whereof this one was the guardian should hold the\nold law until such time as the Good Knight should come, by whom their\nsouls should be saved and their death respited.  For, so soon as he\nshould be come, they should run to be baptized, and should firmly\nbelieve the new law.  Wherefore was the joy great in the castle for\nthat their death should now be respited, and that they should be\nreleased of all terror of the knight that was their foe, whom they\ndreaded even to the death, and of the sin of the false law whereof they\nhad heretofore been attaint.\n\n\nII.\n\nRight glad is Perceval when he seeth the people of the castle turn them\nto the holy faith of the Saviour, and the damsel saith to him, \"Sir,\nright well have you speeded thus far on your way; nought is there now\nto be done save to finish that which remaineth.  For never may they\nthat are within issue forth so long as the Knight of the Dragon is on\nlive.  Here may you not tarry, for the longer you tarry, the more lands\nwill be desolate and the more folk will he slay.  Perceval taketh leave\nof them of the castle, that make much joy of him, but sore misgiving\nhave they of him on account of the knight with whom he goeth to do\nbattle, and they say that if he shall conquer him, never yet befell\nknight so fair adventure.  They have heard mass before that he\ndeparteth, and made rich offerings for him in honour of the Saviour and\nHis sweet Mother.  The damsel goeth before, for that she knew the place\nwhere the evil knight had his repair. They ride until they come into\nthe Island of Elephants.  The Knight was alighted under an olive tree,\nand had but now since slain four knights that were of the castle of the\nQueen of the Golden Circlet.  She was at the windows of her castle and\nsaw her Knights dead, whereof made she great dole.\n\n\"Ha, God,\" saith she, \"Shall I never see none that may avenge me of\nthis evildoer that slayeth my men and destroyeth my land on this wise?\"\n\nShe looketh up and seeth Perceval come and the damsel.\n\n\"Sir Knight, and you have not force and help and valour in you more\nthan is in four knights, come not nigh this devil!  Howbeit, and you\nfeel that you may so do battle as to overcome and vanquish him, I will\ngive you the Golden Circlet that is within, and will hold with the New\nLaw that hath been of late established.  For I see well by your shield\nthat you are a Christian, and, so you may conquer him, then ought I at\nlast to be assured that your law availeth more than doth ours, and that\nGod was born of the Virgin.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nRight joyous is Perceval of this that he heareth her say.  He crosseth\nand blesseth him, and commendeth him to God and His sweet Mother; and\nis pricked of wrath and hardiment like a lion. He seeth the Knight of\nthe Dragon mounted, and looketh at him in wonderment, for that he was\nso big that never had he seen any man so big of his body.  He seeth the\nshield at his neck, that was right black and huge and hideous.  He\nseeth the Dragon's head in the midst thereof, that casteth out fire and\nflame in great plenty, so foul and hideous and horrible that all the\nfield stank thereof.  The damsel draweth her toward the castle and\nleaveth the knight on the horsesaith.\n\n\nIV.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she to Perceval, \"On this level plot was slain your\nuncle's son whom here I leave, for I have brought him far enough. Now\navenge him as best you may, I render and give him over to you, for so\nmuch have I done herein as that none have right to blame me.\"\n\nWith that she departeth.  The Knight of the Dragon removeth and seeth\nPerceval coming all alone, wherefore hath he great scorn of him and\ndeigneth not to take his spear, but rather cometh at him with his drawn\nsword, that was right long and red as a burning brand.  Perceval seeth\nhim coming and goeth against him, spear in rest, as hard as his horse\nmay carry him, thinking to smite him through the breast.  But the\nKnight setteth his shield between, and the flame that issued from the\nDragon burnt the shaft thereof even to his hand.  And the Knight\nsmiteth him on the top of his helmet, but Perceval covereth him of his\nshield, whereof had he great affiance that the sword of the foeman\nknight might not harm it.  Josephus witnesseth us that Joseph of\nAbarimacie had made be sealed in the boss of the shield some of the\nblood of Our Lord and a piece of His garment.\n\n\nV.\n\nWhen the Knight seeth that he hath not hurt Perceval's shield, great\nmarvel hath he thereof, for never aforetime had he smitten knight but\nhe had dealt him his death-blow.  He turneth the head of the Dragon\ntowards Perceval's shield, but the flame that issued from the Dragon's\nhead turned back again as it had been blown of the wind, so that it\nmight not come nigh him.  The Knight is right wroth thereof, and\npasseth beyond and cometh to the bier of the dead knight and turneth\nhis shield with the dragon's head against him.  He scorcheth and\nburneth all to ashes the bodies of the knight and the horses.\n\nSaith he to Perceval, \"Are you quit as for this knight's burial?\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith Perceval, \"You say true, and much misliketh me thereof,\nbut please God I shall amend it.\"\n\n\nVI.\n\nThe damsel that had brought the knight was at the windows of the palace\nbeside the Queen.  She crieth out. \"Perceval, fair sir,\" saith the\ndamsel, \"Now is the shame the greater and the harm the greater, and you\namend them not.\"\n\nRight sorrowful is Perceval of his cousin that is all burnt to a\ncinder, and he seeth the Knight that beareth the devil with him, but\nknoweth not how he may do vengeance upon him.  He cometh to him\nsword-drawn, and dealeth him a great blow on the shield in such sort\nthat he cleaveth it right to the midst thereof where the dragon's head\nwas, and the flame leapeth forth so burning hot on his sword that it\nwaxed red-hot like as was the Knight's sword.\n\nAnd the damsel crieth to him: \"Now is your sword of the like power as\nhis; now shall it be seen what you will do!  I have been told of a\ntruth that the Knight may not be vanquished save by one only and at one\nblow, but how this is I may not tell, whereof irketh me.\"\n\nPerceval looketh and seeth that his sword is all in a flame of fire,\nwhereof much he marvelleth.  He smiteth the Knight so passing sore that\nhe maketh his head stoop down over the fore saddle-bow.  The Knight\nrighteth him again, sore wrath that he may not put him to the worse.\nHe smiteth him with his sword a blow so heavy that he cleaveth the\nhabergeon and his right shoulder so that he cutteth and burneth the\nflesh to the bone. As he draweth back his blow, Perceval catcheth him\nand striketh him with such passing strength that he smiteth off his\nhand, sword and all.  The Knight gave a great roar, and the Queen was\nright joyous thereof.  The Knight natheless made no semblant that he\nwas yet conquered, but turneth back toward Perceval at a right great\ngallop and launched his flame against his shield, but it availeth him\nnought, for he might not harm it.  Perceval seeth the dragon's head,\nthat was broad and long and horrible, and aimeth with his sword and\nthrusteth it up to the hilt into his gullet as straight as ever he may,\nand the head of the dragon hurleth forth a cry so huge that forest and\nfell resound thereof as far as two leagues Welsh.\n\n\nVII.\n\nThe dragon's head turneth it toward his lord in great wrath, and\nscorcheth him and burneth him to dust, and thereafter departed up into\nthe sky like lightning.  The Queen cometh to Perceval, and all the\nknights, and see that he is sore hurt in his right shoulder.  And the\ndamsel telleth him that never will he be healed thereof save he setteth\nthereon of the dust of the knight that is dead.  And they lead him up\nto the castle with right great joy.  Then they make him be disarmed,\nand have his wound washed and tended and some of the knight's dust that\nwas dead set thereon that it might have healing.  She maketh send to\nall the knights of her land: \"Lords,\" saith she, \"See here the knight\nthat hath saved my land for me and protected your lives.  You know well\nhow it hath been prophesied that the knight with head of gold should\ncome, and through him should you be saved.  And now, behold, hath he\ncome hither.  The prophecy may not be belied.  I will that you do his\ncommandment.\"\n\nAnd they said that so would they do right willingly.  She bringeth him\nthere where the Circlet of Gold is, and she herself setteth it on his\nhead.  After that, she bringeth his sword and delivereth it unto him,\nwherewith he had slain the giant devil, both the knight that bare the\ndevil, and the devil that the knight bare in his shield.\n\n\nVIII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"May all they that will not go to be baptized, nor\naccept your New Law, be slain of this your sword, and hereof I make you\nthe gift.\"\n\nShe herself made her be held up and baptized first, and all the other\nafter.  Josephus maketh record that in right baptism she had for name\nElysa, and a good life she led and right holy, and she died a virgin.\nHer body still lieth in the kingdom of Ireland, where she is highly\nhonoured.  Perceval was within the castle until that he was heal.  The\ntidings spread throughout the lands that the Knight of the Golden\nCirclet had slain the Knight of the Dragon, and great everywhere was\nthe joy thereof.  It was known at the court of King Arthur, but much\nmarvelled they that it was said the Knight of the Golden Circlet had\nslain him, for they knew not who was the Knight of the Golden Circlet.\n\n\nIX.\n\nWhen Perceval was whole, he departed from the castle of the Queen of\nthe Golden Circlet, all of whose land was at his commandment. The Queen\ntold him that she would keep the Golden Circlet until he should will\notherwise, and in such sort he left it there, for he would not carry it\nwith him, sith that he knew not whitherward he might turn.  The history\ntelleth us that he rode on until one day he came to the Castle of\nCopper.  Within the castle were a number of folk that worshipped the\nbull of copper and believed not in any other God.  The bull of copper\nwas in the midst of the castle upon four columns of copper, and\nbellowed so loud at all hours of the day that it was heard for a league\nall round about, and there was an evil spirit within that gave answers\nconcerning whatsoever any should ask of it.\n\n\nX.\n\nAt the entrance to the gateway of the castle were two men made of\ncopper by art of nicromancy, and they held two great mallets of iron,\nand they busied themselves striking the one after the other, and so\nstrongly they struck that nought mortal is there in the world that\nmight pass through amongst their blows but should be all to-crushed\nthereby.  And on the other side was the castle so fast enclosed about\nthat nought might enter thereinto.\n\n\nXI.\n\nPerceval beholdeth the fortress of the castle, and the entrance that\nwas so perilous, whereof he marvelleth much.  He passeth a bridge that\nwas within the entry, and cometh nigh them that guard the gate.  A\nVoice began to cry aloud above the gate that he might go forward\nsafely, and that he need have no care for the men of copper that\nguarded the gate nor be affrighted of their blows, for no power had\nthey to harm such a knight as was he.  He comforteth himself much of\nthat the Voice saith to him.  He cometh anigh the serjeants of copper,\nand they cease to strike at once, and hold their iron mallets quite\nstill.  And he entereth into the castle, where he findeth within great\nplenty of folk that all were misbelievers and of feeble belief.  He\nseeth the bull of copper in the midst of the castle right big and\nhorrible, that was surrounded on all sides by folk that all did worship\nthereunto together round about.\n\n\nXII.\n\nThe bull bellowed so passing loud that right uneath was it to hear\naught else within the castle besides.  Perceval was therewithin, but\nnone was there that spake unto him, for, so intent were they upon\nadoring the bull that, and any had been minded to slay them what time\nthey were yet worshipping the same, they would have allowed him so to\ndo, and would have thought that they were saved thereby; and save this\nhad they none other believe in the world.  It was not of custom within\nthere to be armed, for the entrance of the fortress was so strong that\nnone might enter but by their will and commandment, save it were the\npleasure of our Lord God.  And the devil that had deceived them, and in\nwhom they believed, gave them such great abundance therewithin of\neverything they could desire, that nought in the world was there\nwhereof they lacked.  When he perceived that they held no discourse\nwith him, he draweth himself on one side by a great hall, and so called\nthem around him.  The more part came thither, but some of them came\nnot.  The Voice warneth him that he make them all pass through the\nentrance of the gateway there where the men with the iron mallets are,\nfor there may he well prove which of them are willing to believe in God\nand which not. The Good Knight draweth his sword and surroundeth them\nall and maketh them all go in common before him, would they or nould\nthey.  And they that would not go willingly and kindly might be sure\nthat they should receive their death.  He made them pass through the\nentrance there where the serjeants of copper were striking great blows\nwith their iron mallets.  Of one thousand five hundred that there were,\nscarce but thirteen were not all slain and brained of the iron mallets.\nBut the thirteen had firmly bound their belief in Our Lord, wherefore\nthe serjeants took no heed of them.\n\n\nXIII.\n\nThe evil spirit that was in the bull of copper issued forth thereof as\nit had been lightning from heaven, and the bull of copper melted all in\na heap so as that nought remained in that place thereof.  Then the\nthirteen that remained sent for a hermit of the forest and so made\nthemselves be held up and baptized. After that, they took the bodies of\nthe misbelievers and made cast them into a water that is called the\nRiver of Hell.  This water runneth into the sea, so say many that have\nseen it, and there where it spendeth itself in the sea is it most foul\nand most horrible, so that scarce may ship pass that is not wrecked.\n\n\nXIV.\n\nJosephus maketh record that the hermit that baptized the thirteen had\nthe name of Denis, and that the castle was named the Castle of the\nTrial.  They lived within there until the New Law was assured and\nbelieved in throughout all the kingdoms, and a right good life led they\nand a holy.  Nor never might none enter with them thereinto but was\nslain and crushed save he firmly believed in God.  When the thirteen\nthat were baptized in the castle issued forth thereof they scattered\nthemselves on every side among strange forests, and made hermitages and\nbuildings, and put their bodies to penance for the false law they had\nmaintained and to win the love of the Saviour of the World.\n\n\nXV.\n\nPerceval, as you may hear, was soldier of Our Lord, and well did God\nshow him how He loved his knighthood, for the Good Knight had much pain\nand sore travail and pleased Him greatly.  He was come one day to the\nhouse of King Hermit that much desired to see him, and made much joy of\nhim when he saw him, and rejoiced greatly of his courage.  Perceval\nrelateth to him all the greater adventures that have befallen him at\nmany times and in many places sithence that he departed from him, and\nKing Hermit much marvelleth him of many.\n\n\"Uncle,\" saith Perceval, \"I marvel me much of an adventure that befell\nme at the outlet of a forest; for I saw a little white beast that I\nfound in the launde of the forest, and twelve hounds had she in her\nbelly, that bayed aloud and quested within her. At last they issued\nforth of her and slew her beside the cross that was at the outlet of\nthe forest, but they might not eat of her flesh.  A knight and a\ndamsel, whereof one was at one end of the launde and the other at the\nother, came thither and took the flesh and the blood, and set them in\ntwo vessels of gold.  And the hounds that were born of her fled away\ninto the forest.\"\n\n\"Fair nephew,\" saith the Hermit, \"I know well that God loveth you sith\nthat such things appear to you, for His valour and yours and for the\nchastity that is in your body.  The beast, that was kindly and gentle\nand sweet, signifieth Our Lord Jesus Christ, and the twelve dogs that\nyelped within her signify the people of the Old Law that God created\nand made in His own likeness, and after that He had made and created\nthem He desired to prove how much they loved Him.  He sent them forty\nyears into the wilderness, where their garments never wasted, and sent\nthem manna from heaven that served them whatsoever they would to eat\nand to drink, and they were without evil and without trouble and\nwithout sickness, and such joy and pleasance had they as they would.\nAnd they held one day their council, and the master of them said that\nand God should wax wroth with them and withhold this manna, they would\nhave nought to eat, and that it might not last always albeit that God\nsent it in so passing great plenty. Wherefore they purposed to set\naside great part thereof in store, so that if the Lord God should wax\nwroth they might take of that which was stored and so save themselves\nfor a long space.  They agreed among themselves and did thereafter as\nthey had purposed and determined amongst them.\n\n\nXVI.\n\n\"God, that seeth and knoweth all things, knew well their thought. He\nwithdrew from them the manna from heaven that had come to them in such\nabundance, and which they had bestowed in caverns underground, thinking\nto find there the manna they had set aside, but it was changed by the\nwill of God into efts and adders and worms and vermin, and when they\nsaw that they had done evil, they scattered themselves over strange\nlands.  Fair, sweet nephew,\" saith the Hermit, \"These twelve hounds\nthat bayed in the beast are the Jews that God had fed, and that were\nborn in the Law that He established, nor never would they believe on\nHim, nor love Him, but rather crucified Him and tore His Body after the\nshamefullest sort they might, but in no wise might they destroy His\nflesh.  The knight and damsel that set the pieces of flesh in vessels\nof gold signify the divinity of the Father, which would not that His\nflesh should be minished.  The hounds fled to the forest and became\nsavage what time they had torn the beast to pieces, so in like manner\nare the Jews that were and ever shall be savage, subject to them of the\nNew Law henceforth for ever.\"\n\n\nXVII.\n\n\"Fair uncle,\" saith Perceval, \"Good right and reason is it that they\nshould have shame and tribulation and evil reward sith that they slew\nand crucified Him that had created and made them and deigned to be born\nas a man in their Law.  But two priests came after, whereof the one\nkissed the cross and worshipped it right heartily and made great joy\nthereof, and the other did violence thereunto and bear it with a great\nrod, and wept right sore and made the greatest dole in the world.  With\nthis last was I right sore wrath, and willingly would I have run upon\nhim had he not been a priest.\"\n\n\"Fair nephew,\" saith the Hermit, \"He that beat it believed in God\nequally as well as he that adored, for that the holy flesh of the\nSaviour of the World was set thereon, that abhorred not the pains of\ndeath.  One smiled and made great joy for that He redeemed His souls\nfrom the pains of hell that would otherwise have been therein for\nevermore; and for this made he yet greater joy, that he knew He was God\nand Man everlastingly in His nature, for he that hath not this in\nremembrance shall never believe aright. Fair nephew, the other priest\nbear the cross and wept for the passing great anguish and torment and\ndolour that our Lord God suffered thereon, for so sore was the anguish\nas might have melted the rock, nor no tongue of man may tell the sorrow\nHe felt upon the cross.  And therefore did he bear it and revile it for\nthat He was crucified thereon, even as I might hate a spear or sword\nwherewith you had been slain.  For nought else did he thus, and ever,\nso often as he remembereth the pain that God suffered thereon, cometh\nhe to the cross in such manner as you saw.  Both twain are hermits and\ndwell in the forest, and he is named Jonas that kissed and adored the\ncross, and he that beat and reviled it is named Alexis.\"\n\n\nXVIII.\n\nWillingly heareth Perceval this that his uncle telleth and recordeth\nhim.  He relateth how he did battle with the devil-knight that bare in\nhis shield the head of a dragon that cast forth fire and flame, and how\nthe dragon burnt up his lord at the last.\n\n\"Fair nephew,\" saith the hermit, \"Right glad am I of these tidings that\nyou tell me, for I have been borne on hand that the Knight of the\nGolden Circlet had slain him.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"It may well be, but never at any time saw I\nknight so big and horrible.\"\n\n\"Fair nephew,\" saith the Hermit, \"None might overcome him save the Good\nKnight only, for all true worshipful men behoveth do battle with the\nDevil, nor never may he be worshipful man that fighteth not against\nhim.  And even as the devil withal that was figured on his shield slew\nand burnt up his master, even so doth one devil torment and molest\nother in the world to come; and greater evil might not the Knight of\nthe Devil do you than burn the body of your uncle's son that he had\nkilled, as I have heard tell.  Power had he over his body, but, please\nGod, not over his soul to burn it.\"\n\n\"Fair uncle,\" saith Perceval, \"I went thither by a Turning Castle,\nwhere were archers of copper that shot bolts, and bears and lions\nchained at the entrance of the gateway.  So soon as I drew nigh and\nsmote thereon with my sword the castle stopped still.\"\n\n\"Fair nephew,\" said King Hermit, \"Nought had the Devil outwardly\nbesides this castle.  It was the entrance to his fortress, nor would\nthey within ever have been converted save you had been there.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Right sorrowful am I of Messire Gawain and Lancelot,\nfor well I loved their fellowship, and great aid would they have been\nin my need.\"\n\n\"Fair nephew, had they been chaste as are you, well might they have\nentered on account of their good knighthood.  For were they not wanton,\nthe two best knights in the world are they.\n\n\nXIX.\n\n\"Fair nephew, in the time of your knighthood have you much advanced the\nLaw of the Saviour, for you have destroyed the falsest believe in the\nworld, and this was of them that believed on the bull of copper and the\ndevil that was therein.  If this folk had remained, and had failed of\nyou, never would it have been destroyed until the end of the world.\nWherefore marvel not that you have travail in serving God, but endure\nit willingly, for never had worshipful man honour without pains.  But\nnow behoveth you achieve another matter.  All they of the land of King\nFisherman your uncle have abandoned the New Law, and returned to that\nwhich God hath forbidden.  But the most part do so rather perforce and\nfor fear of the King that hath seized the land, who is my brother and\nyour uncle, than on account of aught else.  Wherefore behoveth you set\ncounsel therein, for this thing may not be achieved by any earthly man\nsave by you only.  For the castle and land should be yours of right,\nand sore mischief is it when one that cometh of lineage so high and so\nholy is traitor to God, and disloyal to the world.\n\n\nXX.\n\n\"Fair nephew,\" saith the good man, \"The castle hath been much\nstrengthened, for there are now nine bridges newly made, and at each\nbridge are there three knights tall and strong and hardy, whereof hath\nhe much defence, and your uncle is there within that keepeth the\ncastle.  But never sithence, none of the knights of King Fisherman nor\nof his priests have there appeared, nor knoweth any what hath befallen\nthem.  The chapel wherein the most Holy Graal appeared is all emptied\nof its sacred hallows; the hermits that are by the forest are fain of\nyour coming, for never see they there a knight pass by that believeth\nin God.  And so you shall have achieved this enterprise, it is a thing\nwhereof shall God be well pleased.\"\n\n\nXXI.\n\n\"Fair uncle,\" saith Perceval, \"Thither will I go, sith that you commend\nit to me, for no reason is it that he should have the castle that hath\nentered thereinto.  Of better right ought my mother to have it, that\nwas the next-born to King Fisherman, of whose death am I right\nsorrowful.\"\n\n\"Fair nephew, you are right!  for on your account fell he into\nlanguishment, and, had you then gone again, so say many, then would he\nhave been whole, but how this might have been I know not of a\ncertainty.  But methinketh our Lord God willed his languishment and\ndeath, for had it been His will, you would have made the demand, but He\nwilled otherwise, wherefore ought we to give thanks and praise Him\nwhatsoever He doth, for He hath foreseen of every man that which shall\ncome to him.  I have within here a white mule that is very old.  Fair\nnephew, you will take her with you.  She will follow you right\nwillingly, and a banner shall you bear, for the power of God and His\nvirtue shall avail more than your own.  Seven-and-twenty knights guard\nthe nine bridges, all chosen and of approved great valour, and none\nought now to believe that a single knight may vanquish so many, save\nthe miracle of Our Lord and His virtue shall open a way for him.  So I\npray and beseech you that you have God always in remembrance and His\nsweet Mother, and, so at any time you be put to the worse of your\nknighthood, mount upon the mule and take the banner, and your enemies\nshall forthwith lose their force, for nought confoundeth any enemy so\nswiftly as doth the virtue and puissance of God.  It is a thing well\nknown that you are the Best Knight of the World, but set not affiance\nin your strength nor in your knighthood as against so many knights, for\nagainst them may you not endure.\"\n\n\nXXII.\n\nPerceval hearkeneth unto his uncle's discourse and his chastening, and\nlayeth fast hold on all that he saith, wherewith is he pleased full\nwell, for great affiance hath he in his words.\n\n\"Fair nephew,\" saith the Hermit, \"Two lions are there at the entry of\nthe gateway, whereof the one is red and the other white. Put your trust\nin the white, for he is on God's side, and look at him whensoever your\nforce shall fail you, and he will look at you likewise in such sort as\nthat straightway you shall know his intent, by the will and pleasure of\nOur Saviour.  Wherefore do according as you shall see that he would,\nfor no intent will he have save good only, and to help you; nor may you\nnot otherwise succeed in winning past the nine bridges that are warded\nof the twenty-seven knights.  And God grant you may win past in such\nwise that you may save your body and set forward withal the Law of Our\nLord that your uncle hath hindered all that he might.\"\n\n\nXXIII.\n\nPerceval departeth from the hermitage, and carrieth away the banner,\naccording to his uncle's counsel, and the white mule followeth after.\nHe goeth his way toward the land that was the land of King Fisherman,\nand findeth a hermit that was issued forth of his hermitage and was\ngoing at a great pace through the forest.  He abideth so soon as he\nbeholdeth the cross on Perceval's shield.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"I well perceive that you are a Christian, of whom not\na single one have I seen this long time past.  For the King of Castle\nMortal is driving us forth of this forest, for he hath renounced God\nand His sweet Mother, so that we durst not remain in His defence.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Perceval, \"But you shall!  for God shall lead you\nforward, and I after.  Are there more hermits in this forest?\" saith\nPerceval.\n\n\"Yea, Sir, there be twelve here that are waiting for me at a cross\nyonder before us, and we are minded to go to the kingdom of Logres and\nput our bodies to penance for God's sake, and to abandon our cells and\nchapels in this forest for dread of this felon King that hath seized\nthe land, for he willeth that none who believeth in God should here\nabide.\"\n\n\nXXIV.\n\nPerceval is come with the hermit to the cross where the good men had\nassembled them together, and findeth Joseus, the young man that was\nKing Pelles' son, of whom he maketh right great joy, and he maketh the\nhermits turn back again with him, saying that he will defend them and\nmake them safe, by God's help, in the kingdom, and prayeth them right\nsweetly that they make prayer for him to our Lord that He grant him to\nwin back that which of right is his own.  He is come forth of the\nforest and the hermits with him.  He draweth nigh to the castle of King\nFisherman, and strong was the defence at the entrance thereof.  Some of\nthe knights well knew that Perceval would conquer him, for long since\nhad it been prophesied that he who bare such shield should win the\nGraal of him that sold God for money.\n\n\nXXV.\n\nThe knights saw Perceval coming and the company of hermits with him\nright seemly to behold, and much marvel had they thereof. About a\ncouple of bowshots above the bridge was a chapel fashioned like the one\nat Camelot, wherein was a sepulchre, and none knew who lay therein.\nPerceval abideth thereby and his company.  He leaneth his shield and\nspear against the chapel, and maketh fast his horse and mule by the\nreins.  He beholdeth the sepulchre, that was right fair, and forthwith\nthe sepulchre openeth and the joinings fall apart and the stone lifteth\nup in such wise that a man might see the knight that lay within, of\nwhom came forth a smell of so sweet savour that it seemed to the good\nmen that were looking on that it had been all embalmed. They found a\nletter which testified that this knight was named Josephus.  So soon as\nthe hermits beheld the sepulchre open, they said to Perceval: \"Sir, now\nat last know we well that you are the Good Knight, the chaste, the\nholy.\"\n\nThe knights that warded the bridge heard the tidings that the sepulchre\nhad opened at the coming of the knight, whereof were they in the\ngreater dismay, and well understood that it was he that was first at\nthe Graal.  The tidings came to the King that held the castle, and he\nbade his knights not be dismayed for dread of a single knight, for that\nhe would have no force nor power against them, nor might it never\nbefall but that one only of his own knights should be enough to conquer\nhim.\n\n\nXXVI.\n\nPerceval was armed upon his horse.  The hermits make the sign of the\ncross over him, and bless him and commend him to God.  And he holdeth\nhis spear in rest and cometh toward the three knights that guard the\nfirst bridge.  They all set upon him at once and break their spears\nupon his shield.  One of them he smiteth with such force that he maketh\nhim topple over into the river that runneth under the bridge, both him\nand his horse.  Of him was he quit, for the river was wide and deep and\nswift.  The others held out against him a much longer bout with sharp\nsword-play, but he vanquished them and smote them to pieces, and flung\ntheir bodies into the water.  They of the second bridge came forward,\nthat were right good knights, and many a tough bout had he of them and\nmany a felon onslaught.  Joseus that was his uncle's son was there, and\nsaid to the other hermits that right fainly would he go help him, but\nthat he deemed it might be sin, and they bade him take no heed of that,\nfor that great work of mercy would it be to destroy the enemies of Our\nLord.  He doeth off his grey cape and fettleth him in his frock, and\ntaketh one of them that were doing battle with Perceval and trusseth\nhim on his neck and so flingeth him into the river all armed, and\nPerceval slayeth the other twain and hurleth them into the river in\nlike manner as the other.\n\n\nXXVII.\n\nBy the time he had won the two bridges he was full spent and weary,\nwherefore he bethinketh him of the lion, the manner whereof his uncle\nhad told him.  Then looketh he toward the entrance of the gateway and\nseeth the white lion, that stood upright on his two hinder feet, for\nthat he was fain to see him. Perceval looketh him full between the two\neyes, and understandeth that the lion is minded by the will of God to\ndo him to wit that the knights of the third bridge are so hardy and of\nsuch strength that they may not be overcome of a single knight and our\nLord God of his holy bounty open not the way, but that he must fain\ntake the mule and carry the banner if he would conquer them.  Perceval\nunderstandeth the white lion's intent, and giveth God thanks thereof\nand draweth him back, and Joseus the young man likewise. As soon as\nthey look back, they see that the first bridge is already lifted up\nbehind them.\n\n\nXXVIII.\n\nPerceval cometh to where the white mule was, and she was starred on the\nforehead with a red cross.  He mounteth thereupon, and taketh the\nbanner and holdeth his sword drawn.  So soon as the white lion seeth\nhim coming, he unchaineth himself and runneth incontinent to the bridge\nthat was lifted, right amidst the knights, and lowereth it forthwith.\nThe King of Castle Mortal was on the battlements of the greater\nfortress of the castle, and crieth to the knights that warded the\nbridge, \"Lords,\" saith he, \"You are the most chosen knights of my land\nand the hardiest, but no hardiment is it to lift the bridges on account\nof a single knight whom you durst not abide body to body, whereof\nmeseemeth it great cowardize and not hardiment.  But the lion is\nhardier than you all, that of his hardiment hath lowered the bridge.\nWherefore now know I well that had I set him to ward the first bridge,\nhe would have warded it better than these that have allowed themselves\nto be slain.\"\n\n\nXXIX.\n\nThereupon, behold you Perceval come upon his white mule, sword drawn\nall naked in his fist, and cometh toward them of the third bridge,\nwhereof he smiteth the first so sore that he overthroweth him into the\nwater.  Joseus the hermit cometh forward and would fain have seized the\nother twain, but they cry mercy of Perceval, and say that they will be\nat his will in all things, and so will believe on God and His sweet\nMother and abandon their evil lord. And they of the fourth bridge say\nlikewise.  On such condition he alloweth them to live by the counsel of\nJoseus, and they cast away their arms and yield up the bridges at his\nwill.  Perceval thinketh within himself that God's virtue hath right\ngreat power, but that knight who hath force and power ought well to\napprove his prowess for God's sake.  For of all that he shall do or\nsuffer for Him, shall God be well pleased.  For, were all the world\nagainst our Lord God, and He should grant to any single one that should\nbe His champion all His power and might, he would conquer them all in\none hour of the day.  But He willeth that a man should travail for Him,\neven as He Himself suffered travail for His people.\n\n\nXXX.\n\nPerceval cometh again back and alighteth of the white mule and\ndelivereth the banner to Joseus, and then mounteth again on his\ndestrier and cometh back to them of the fifth bridge, and these defend\nthemselves right stoutly, for that hardy knights are they, and do\nbattle against Perceval full sturdily.  Joseus the hermit cometh\nthither and assaulteth them with passing great lustihood, that had the\nLord God not saved him they would have overthrown and slain him.\nHowbeit, he holdeth the banner and grappleth them when he may lay hold,\nand grippeth them so straight that they may not help themselves.\nPerceval slayeth them and crusheth them and maketh them topple over\ninto the water that ran swiftly beneath the bridge.  When they of the\nsixth bridge saw that these were conquered, they cried mercy of\nPerceval and yielded themselves to him and delivered up their swords to\nhim, and they of the seventh bridge likewise.  When the red lion saw\nthat the seventh bridge was Won, and that the knights of the two\nbridges had yielded themselves up to Perceval, he leapt up with such\nfury that he burst his chain as had he been wood mad.  He came to one\nof the knights and bit him and slew him, whereof the white lion was\nfull wroth, and runneth upon the other lion and teareth him to pieces\nwith his claws and teeth.\n\n\nXXXI.\n\nStraightway thereafter he raiseth himself up on his two hinder feet and\nlooketh at Perceval, and Perceval at him.  Perceval understandeth well\nthe lion's intent, to wit, that they of the last bridge are worse to\nconquer than the others, and that they may not be conquered at all save\nby the will of God and by him that is the lion.  And the lion warned\nhim that he go not against them with the banner, holy though it were,\nnor receive them into mercy what surety soever they might make, for\nthat they are traitors, but that he must fain mount upon the white\nmule, for that she is a beast on God's side, and that Joseus should\nbring the banner and all the hermits go before, that are worshipful men\nand of good life, so as to dismay the traitor King, and so shall the\nend and the conquest of the castle be brought nigh.  Of all this the\nlion made signs to Perceval, for speak he could not. Great affiance\nhath Perceval in the lion's warning.  He alighteth of his destrier and\nremounteth on the mule, and Joseus holdeth the banner.  The company of\ntwelve hermits was there, right seemly and holy.  They draw nigh the\ncastle.  The knights on the last bridge see Perceval coming towards\nthem and Joseus the hermit holding the banner, by whom they had seen\ntheir other fellows wrestled withal and put to the worse.\n\n\nXXXII.\n\nThe virtue of Our Lord and the dignity of the banner and the goodness\nof the white mule and the holiness of the good hermits that made their\norisons to Our Lord so struck the knights that they lost all power over\nthemselves, but treason might not go forth of their hearts, wherefore\nright heavy were they of their kinsmen that they had seen slain before\nthem.  They bethought them that and if by mercy they might escape\nthence, they would never end until they had slain Perceval.  They come\nto meet him and so cry him mercy passing sweetly in semblance, and say\nthat they will do his will for ever and ever, so only he will let them\ndepart safe and sound.  Perceval looketh at the lion to know what he\nshall do; he seeth that the lion thinketh them traitors and disloyal,\nand that so they were destroyed and dead the King that was in the\ncastle would have lost his force; and that, so Perceval will run upon\nthem, the lion will help him slay them. Perceval telleth the knights\nthat never will he have mercy upon them, and forthwith runneth upon\nthem, sword drawn, and sorely it misliked him that they defended not\nthemselves, insomuch that he all but left to slay them for that no\ndefence found he in them. But the lion is so far from holding them in\nthe like disdain, that he runneth upon them and biteth and slayeth\nthem, and then casteth forth their limbs and bodies into the water.\nPerceval alloweth that this is well and seemly, and pleaseth him much\nof that he seeth the lion do, nor never before had he seen any beast\nthat he might love and prize so highly as this one.\n\n\nXXXIII.\n\nThe King of Castle Mortal was on the battlements of the wall, and seeth\nhow his knights are dead, and how the lion helpeth to slay the last.\nHe setteth himself on the highest place of the walls, then lifteth the\nskirt of his habergeon and holdeth his sword all naked, that was right\nkeen and well-tempered, and so smiteth himself right through the body,\nand falleth all adown the walls into the water, that was swift and\ndeep, in such sort that Perceval saw him, and all the good hermits\nlikewise, that marvelled much of a King that should slay himself in\nsuch manner; but they say according to the judgment of the scripture,\nthat by right of evil man should the end be evil.  On such wise was the\nend of this King of whom I tell you.  Josephus relateth us how none\nought to marvel that of three brothers, even though they be sons of the\nsame father and mother, one brother should be evil; and the real\nmarvel, saith he, is when one evil corrupteth not the two that are\ngood, for that wickedness is so hard and keen and beguiling, and\ngoodness so kindly and simple and humble. Cain and Abel were\nbrothers-german, yet Cain slew his brother Abel, the one flesh betrayed\nthe other.  But great sorrow is it, saith Josephus, when the flesh that\nought to be one becometh twain, and the one flesh goeth about by\nwickedness to deceive and destroy the other.  Josephus recordeth us by\nthis evil king that was so traitorous and false and yet was of the\nlineage of the Good Soldier Joseph of Abarimacie.  This Joseph, as the\nscripture witnesseth, was his uncle, and this evil king was\nbrother-german of King Fisherman, and brother of the good King Pelles\nthat had abandoned his land, in order that he might serve God, and\nbrother of the Widow Lady that was Perceval's mother, the most loyal\nthat was ever in Great Britain.  All these lineages were in the service\nof Our Lord from the beginning of their lives unto the end, save only\nthis evil King that perished so evilly as you have heard.\n\n\nXXXIV.\n\nYou have heard how the King that had seized the castle that had been\nKing Fisherman's slew himself in such wise, and how his knights were\ndiscomfited.  Perceval entered into the castle and the worshipful\nhermits together with him.  It seemed them when they were come within\ninto the master hall, that they heard chant in an inner chapel 'Gloria\nin excelsis Deo', and right sweet praising of Our Lord.  They found the\nhails right rich and seemly and fairly adorned within.  They found the\nchapel open where the sacred hallows were wont to be.  The holy hermits\nentered therein and made their orisons, and prayed the Saviour of the\nWorld that He would swiftly restore to them the most Holy Graal and the\nsacred hallows that wont to be therewithin whereby they might be\ncomforted.\n\n\nXXXV.\n\nThe good men were there within with Perceval, that much loved their\ncompany.  Josephus witnesseth us that the ancient knights that were of\nthe household of King Fisherman, and the priests and damsels, departed\nso soon as the King that slew himself had seized the castle, for that\nthey would not be at his court, and the Lord God preserved them from\nhim and made them go into such a place as that they should be in\nsafety.  The Saviour of the World well knew that the Good Knight had\nwon the castle by his valour that should have been his own of right,\nand sent back thither all them that had served King Fisherman.\nPerceval made right great joy of them when he saw them, and they of\nhim.  They seemed well to be a folk that had come from some place where\nGod and His commandments were honoured, and so indeed had they.\n\n\nXXXVI.\n\nThe High History witnesseth us that when the conquest of the castle was\nover, the Saviour of the World was right joyous and well pleased\nthereof.  The Graal presented itself again in the chapel, and the lance\nwhereof the point bleedeth, and the sword wherewith St John was\nbeheaded that Messire Gawain won, and the other holy relics whereof was\nright great plenty.  For our Lord God loved the place much.  The\nhermits went back to their hermitages in the forest and served Our Lord\nas they had been wont.  Joseus remained with Perceval at the castle as\nlong as it pleased him, but the Good Knight searched out the land there\nwhere the New Law had been abandoned and its maintenance neglected.  He\nreft the lives of them that would not maintain it and believe.  The\ncountry was supported by him and made safe, and the Law of Our Lord\nexalted by his strength and valour.  The priests and knights that\nrepaired to the castle loved Perceval much, for, so far from his\ngoodness minishing in ought, they saw from day to day how his valour\nand his faith in God increased and multiplied.  And he showed them the\nsepulchre of his uncle King Fisherman in the chapel before the altar.\nThe coffin was rich and the tabernacle costly and loaded of precious\nstones.  And the priests and knights bear witness that as soon as the\nbody was placed in the coffin and they were departed thence, they found\non their return that it was covered by the tabernacle all dight as\nrichly as it is now to be seen, nor might they know who had set it\nthere save only the commandment of Our Lord.  And they say that every\nnight was there a great brightness of light as of candles there, and\nthey knew not whence it should come save of God.  Perceval had won the\ncastle by the command of God.  The Graal was restored in the holy\nchapel, and the other hallows as you have heard.  The evil believe was\ndone away from the kingdom, and all were assured again in the New Law\nby the valour of the Good Knight.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XIX.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nNow is the story silent of Perceval and cometh back to King Arthur, the\nvery matter thereof, like as testifieth the history, that in no place\nis corrupted and the Latin lie not.  King Arthur was at Cardoil on one\nday of Whitsuntide that was right fair and clear, and many knights were\nin the hall.  The King sate at meat and all the knights about him.  The\nKing looketh at the windows of the hall to right and left, and seeth\nthat two sunbeams are shining within that fill the whole hall with\nlight.  Thereof he marvelleth much and sendeth without the hall to see\nwhat it might be.  The messenger cometh back again and saith thereof\nthat two suns appear to be shining, the one in the East and the other\nin the West.  He marvelleth much thereat, and prayeth Our Lord that he\nmay be permitted to know wherefore two suns should appear in such wise.\nA Voice appeared at one of the windows that said to him: \"King, marvel\nnot hereof that two suns should appear in the sky, for our Lord God\nhath well the power, and know well that this is for joy of the conquest\nthat the Good Knight hath made that took away the shield from\nherewithin.  He hath won the land that belonged to good King Fisherman\nfrom the evil King of Castle Mortal, that did away thence the good\nbelieve, and therefore was it that the Graal was hidden.  Now God so\nwilleth that you go thither, and that you choose out the best knights\nof your court, for better pilgrimage may you never make, and what time\nyou shall return hither, your faith shall be doubled and the people of\nGreat Britain shall be better disposed and better taught to maintain\nthe service of the Saviour.\"\n\n\nII.\n\nThereupon the Voice departed and well pleased was the King of that it\nhad said.  He sitteth at meat beside the Queen. Straightway behold you,\na damsel that cometh of such beauty as never was greater, and clad\nright richly, and she beareth a coffer richer than ever you saw, for it\nwas all of fine gold and set with precious stones that sparkled like\nfire.  The coffer is not large.  The damsel holdeth it between her\nhands.  When she was alighted she cometh before the King and saluteth\nhim the fairest she may and the Queen likewise.  The King returneth her\nsalute.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I am come to your court for that it is the sovran of\nall other, and so bring I you here this rich vessel that you see as a\ngift; and it hath within the head of a knight, but none may open the\ncoffer save he alone that slew the knight. Wherefore I pray and beseech\nyou, as you are the best king that liveth, that you first set your hand\nthereon, and in like manner afterwards make proof of your knights, and\nso the crime and the blood-wite thereof be brought home to you or to\nany knight that may be within yonder.  I pray you that the knight who\nshall be able to open the coffer wherein the head of the knight lieth,\nand who therefore is he that slew him, shall have grace of forty days\nafter that you shall be returned from the Graal.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"How shall it be known who the knight was?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Right eath, for the letters are sealed within that\ntell his name and the name of him that slew him.\"\n\nThe King granteth the damsel her will in such wise as she had asked of\nhim.  He hath received the coffer, then maketh her be set at meat and\nright richly honoured.\n\n\nIII.\n\nWhen the King had eaten, the damsel cometh before him.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Make your knights be summoned and ready for that\nwhich you have granted me, and you yourself first of all.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Right willingly.\"\n\nHe setteth his hand to the coffer, thinking to open it, but it was not\nright that it should open for him.  As he set his hand thereon the\ncoffer sweated through just as had it been sprinkled all over and was\nwet with water.  The King marvelled greatly, and so made Messire Gawain\nset his hand to it and Lancelot and all those of the court, but he that\nmight open it was not among them. Messire Kay the Seneschal had served\nat meat.  He heard say that the King and all the others had essayed and\nproved the coffer but might not open it.  He is come thither, all\nuncalled for.\n\n\"Now, then, Kay,\" saith the King, \"I had forgotten you.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Kay, \"You ought not to forget me, for as good\nknight am I and of as much worth as they that you have called before\nme, and you ought not to have delayed to send for me.  You have\nsummoned all the others, and me not a whit, and yet am I as well able,\nor ought to be, to open the coffer as are they; for against as many\nknights have I defended me as they, and as many have I slain in\ndefending my body as have they.\"\n\n\"Kay,\" saith the King, \"Shall you be so merry and you may open the\ncoffer, and if you have slain the knight whose head lieth therein?  By\nmy head, I that am King would fain that the coffer should not open for\nme, for never was no knight so poor as that he should have neither\nkinsman nor friend, for he is not loved of all the world that is hated\nby one man.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Kay, \"I would that all the heads of all the knights\nI have slain, save one only, were in the midst of this hall, and that\nthere were letters sealed with them to say that they were slain by me.\nThen would you believe what you are not willing to believe for the\nenvious ones that think they are better worth than I, and yet have not\nserved you so well.\"\n\n\nIV.\n\n\"Kay,\" saith the King, \"Come forward, there is no need of this.\"\n\nMessire Kay the Seneschal cometh to the dais before the King, whereon\nwas the coffer, and taketh it right boldly and setteth one of his hands\nbelow it and the other above.  The coffer opened as soon as he clapped\nhand thereon, and the head within could be seen all openly.  A passing\ndelicate-savoured smell and right sweet issued therefrom, so that not a\nknight in the hall but smelt it.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Kay to the King, \"Now may you know that some prowess and\nsome hardiment have I done in your service, nor might none of your\nknights that you prize so highly open the coffer this day, nor would\nyou have known this day who is therein for them!  But now you know it\nby me, and therefore of so much ought you to be well pleased with me!\"\n\n\nV.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel that had brought the coffer, \"Let the letters\nbe read that are within, so shall you know who the knight was and of\nwhat lineage, and what was the occasion of his death.\"\n\nThe King sitteth beside the Queen, and biddeth call one of his own\nchaplains.  Then maketh he all the knights in the hall be seated and\nkeep silence, and commandeth the chaplain that he should spell out the\nletters of gold all openly according as he should find them written.\nThe chaplain looketh at them, and when he had scanned them down, began\nto sigh.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he to the King and Queen, \"hearken unto me, and all the\nother, your knights.\n\n\nVI.\n\n\"These letters say that the knight whose head lieth in this vessel was\nnamed Lohot and he was son of King Arthur and Queen Guenievre.  He had\nslain on a day that is past, Logrin the Giant, by his hardiment.\nMessire Kay the Seneschal was passing by there, and so found Lohot\nsleeping upon Logrin, for such was his custom that he went to sleep\nupon the man after that he had slain him.  Messire Kay smote off\nLohot's head, and so left the head and the body on the piece of ground.\nHe took the head of the Giant and so bore it to the court of King\nArthur.  He gave the King and Queen and all the barons of the court to\nunderstand that he had slain him, but this did he not; rather, that he\ndid was to slay Lohot, according to the writing and the witness of\nthese letters.\"\n\nWhen the Queen heareth these letters and this witting of her son that\ncame thus by his death, she falleth in a swoon on the coffer.  After\nthat she taketh the head between her two hands, and knew well that it\nwas he by a scar that he had on his face when he was a child.  The King\nhimself maketh dole thereof so sore that none may comfort him, for\nbefore these tidings he had thought that his son was still on live and\nthat he was the Best Knight in the world, and when the news came to his\ncourt that the Knight of the Golden Circlet had slain the Knight of the\nDragon, he supposed that it had been Lohot his son, for that none had\nnamed Perceval nor Gawain nor Lancelot.  And all they of the court are\nright sorrowful for the death of Lohot, and Messire Kay hath departed,\nand if the damsel had nor respited the day until the fortieth after the\nKing's return, vengeance would have been taken of Kay or ever he might\nhave turned him thence.  For never did no man see greater dole made in\nthe King's court than they of the Table Round made for the youth.  King\nArthur and the Queen were so stricken of sorrow that none durst call\nupon them to make cheer.  The damsel that brought thither the coffer\nwas well avenged of the shame that Messire Kay the Seneschal had done\nher on a day that was past, for this thing would not have been known so\nsoon save it had been by her.\n\n\nVII.\n\nWhen the mourning for the King's son was abated, Lancelot and many\nothers said unto him, \"Sir, you know well that God willeth you should\ngo to the castle that was King Fisherman's on pilgrimage to the most\nHoly Graal, for it is not right to delay a thing that one hath in\ncovenant with God.\"\n\n\"Lords,\" saith the King, \"right willingly will I go, and thereto am I\nright well disposed.\"\n\nThe King apparelleth himself for the pilgrimage, and saith that Messire\nGawain and Lancelot shall go with him, without more knights, and taketh\na squire to wait upon his body, and the Queen herself would he have\ntaken thither but for the mourning she made for her son, whereof none\nmight give her any comfort.  But or ever the King departed he made the\nhead be brought into the Isle of Avalon, to a chapel of Our Lady that\nwas there, where was a worshipful holy hermit that was well loved of\nOur Lord.  The King departed from Cardoil and took leave of the Queen\nand all the knights.  Lancelot and Messire Gawain go along with him and\na squire that carrieth their arms.  Kay the Seneschal was departed from\nthe court for dread of the King and his knights.  He durst not abide in\nthe Greater Britain, and so betook himself into the Lesser.  Briant of\nthe Isles was of great power in those times, a knight of great strength\nand hardiment, for all Great Britain had had many disputes between him\nand King Arthur.  His land was full strong of castles and forests and\nright fruitful, and many good knights had he in his land.  When he knew\nthat Kay the Seneschal had departed in such sort from the court, and\nthat he had crossed the sea, he sent for him and held him of his\nhousehold, and said that he would hold him harmless against the King\nand against all men.  When he knew that the King had departed he began\nto war upon the land and to slay his men and to challenge his castles.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XX.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nThe story saith that King Arthur goeth his way and Lancelot and Messire\nGawain with him, and they had ridden so far one day that night came on\nin a forest and they might find no hold.  Messire Gawain marvelled him\nmuch that they had ridden the day long without finding neither hold nor\nhermitage.  Night was come and the sky was dark and the forest full of\ngloom.  They knew not whitherward to turn to pass the night.\n\n\"Lords,\" saith the King, \"Where may we be able to alight to-night?\"\n\n\"Sir, we know not, for this forest is fight wearisome.\"\n\nThey make the squire climb up a tall tree and tell him to look as far\nas he may to try whether he may espy any hold or house where they may\nlodge.  The squire looketh on all sides, and then telleth them he seeth\na fire a long way off as if it were in a waste house, but that he seeth\nnought there save the fire and the house.\n\n\"Take good heed,\" saith Lancelot, \"in which quarter it is, so that you\nmay know well how to lead us thither.\"\n\nHe saith that right eath may he lead them.\n\n\nII.\n\nWith that he cometh down and mounteth again on his hackney, and they go\nforward a great pace and ride until they espy the fire and the hold.\nThey pass on over a bridge of wattles, and find the courtyard all\ndeserted and the house from within great and high and hideous.  But\nthere was a great fire within whereof the heat might be felt from afar.\nThey alight of their horses, and the squire draweth them on one side\namidst the hall, and the knights set them beside the fire all armed.\nThe squire seeth a chamber in the house and entereth thereinto to see\nif he may find any meat for the horses, but he cometh forth again the\nswiftest he may and crieth right sweetly on the Mother of the Saviour.\nThey ask him what aileth him, and he saith that he hath found the most\ntreacherous chamber ever he found yet, for he felt there, what with\nheads and what with hands, more than two hundred men dead, and saith\nthat never yet felt he so sore afeared.  Lancelot went into the chamber\nto see whether he spake true, and felt the men that lay dead, and\ngroped among them from head to head and felt that there was a great\nheap of them there, and came back and sate at the fire all laughing.\nThe King asketh whether the squire had told truth.  Lancelot answereth\nhim yea, and that never yet had he found so many dead men together.\n\n\"Methinketh,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Sith that they are dead we have\nnought to fear of them, but God protect us from the living.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nWhile they were talking thus, behold you a damsel that cometh into the\ndwelling on foot and all alone, and she cometh lamenting right\ngrievously.\n\n\"Ha, God!\" saith she, \"How long a penance is this for me, and when will\nit come to an end?\"\n\nShe seeth the knights sitting in the midst of the house.  \"Fair Lord\nGod,\" saith she, \"Is he there within through whom I am to escape from\nthis great dolour?\"\n\nThe knights hearken to her with great wonderment.  They look and see\nher enter within the door, and her kirtle was all torn with thorns and\nbriars in the forest.  Her feet were all bleeding for that she was\nunshod.  She had a face of exceeding great beauty. She carried the half\nof a dead man, and cast it into the chamber with the others.  She knew\nLancelot again so soon as she saw him.\n\n\"Ha, God!\" saith she, \"I am quit of my penance!  Sir,\" saith she,\n\"Welcome may you be, you and your company!\"\n\nLancelot looketh at her in wonderment.  \"Damsel,\" saith he, \"Are you a\nthing on God's behalf?\"\n\n\"Certes, Sir,\" saith she, \"Yea!  nor be you adread of nought!  I am the\nDamsel of the Castle of Beards, that was wont to deal with knights so\npassing foully as you have seen.  You did away the toll that was levied\non the knights that passed by, and you lay in the castle that demanded\nit of them that passed through the demesne thereof.  But you had me in\ncovenant that so the Holy Graal should appear unto you, you would come\nback to me, for otherwise never should I have been willing to let you\ngo.  You returned not, for that you saw not the Graal.  For the shame\nthat I did to knights was this penance laid upon me in this forest and\nthis manor, to last until such time as you should come.  For the\ncruelty I did them was sore grievous, for never was knight brought to\nme but I made his nose be cut off or his eyes thrust out, and some were\nthere as you saw that had their feet or their hands stricken off.  Now\nhave I paid full dear thereof since, for needs must I carry into this\nchamber all the knights that are slain in this forest, and within this\nmanor must I cast them according to the custom thereof, alone, without\ncompany; and this knight that I carried in but now hath lain so long in\nthe forest that wild beasts have eaten half of his body.  Now am I quit\nof this foul penance, thanks to God and to you, save only that I must\ngo back when it shall be daylight in like manner as I came here.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Lancelot, \"Right glad am I that we should have come to\nlodge the night here within, for love of you, for I never saw I damsel\nthat might do so cruel penance.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"You know not yet what it is, but you will know it\nere long this night, both you and your fellows, and the Lord God shield\nyou from death and from mischief!  Every night cometh a rout of knights\nthat are black and foul and hideous, albeit none knoweth whence they\ncome, and they do battle right sore the one against other, and the\nstour endureth of a right long while; but one knight that came within\nyonder by chance, the first night I came hither, in like manner as you\nhave come, made a circle round me with his sword, and I sate within it\nas soon as I saw them coming, and so had I no dread of them, for I had\nin remembrance the Saviour of the World and His passing sweet Mother.\nAnd you will do the same, and you believe me herein, for these are\nknights fiends.\"\n\nLancelot draweth his sword and maketh a great circle round the\nhouse-place, and they were within.\n\n\nV.\n\nThereupon, behold you the knights that come through the forest with\nsuch a rushing as it seemed they would rend it all up by the roots.\nAfterward, they enter into the manor and snatch great blazing\nfirebrands and fling them one at another.  They enter into the house\nbattling together, and are keen to fall upon the knights, but they may\nnot.  They hurl the firebrands at them from afar, but they are holding\ntheir shields and their swords naked. Lancelot maketh semblant as\nthough he would leap towards them, and sore great cowardize it seemeth\nhim nor to go against them.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"Take heed that you go not forth of the\ncircle, for you will be in sore jeopardy of death, for well you see\nwhat evil folk be these.\"\n\nLancelot was nor minded to hold himself back, but that he would go\ntoward them sword drawn, and they run upon him on all sides, but he\ndefendeth him stoutly and smiteth the burning firebrands so that he\nmaketh red-hot charcoal fly, and thrusteth his sword amidst their\nfaces.  King Arthur and Messire Gawain leap up to help Lancelot and\nsmite upon these evil folk and cut them limb from limb, and they bellow\nlike fiends so that the whole forest resoundeth thereof.  And when they\nfell to the ground, they may no longer endure, but become fiends and\nashes, and their bodies and their horses become devils all black in the\nshape of ravens that come forth of their bodies.  They marvel right\nsore what this may be, and say that such hostel is right grievous.\n\n\nVI.\n\nWhen they had put them all to the worse, they sate them down again and\nrested; but scarce were they seated or ever another rout of yet blacker\nfolk came about them, and they bare spears burning and flaming, and\nmany of them carried dead knights that they had slain in the forest,\nand dropped them in the midst of the house, and then bid the damsel\ncarry and set them with the others.  Howbeit, she answereth that she is\nquit of their commandment and service, nor no longer is forced to do\nnought for them sith that she hath done her penance.  They thrust\nforward their spears toward the King and the two knights, as though\nthey were come to avenge their companions; but they all three leapt up\ntogether and attacked them right stoutly.  But this rout was greater\nand of knights more hideous.  They began to press the King and his\nknights hard, and they might not put them to the worse as they did the\nothers.  And while they were thus in the thickest of the conflict, they\nheard the stroke of a bell sounding, and forthwith the knight fiends\ndeparted and hurried away a great pace.\n\n\"Lords,\" saith the damsel, \"Had this sound not been heard, scarce might\nyou have endured, for yet another huge rout of this folk was coming in\nsuch sort as that none might have withstood them, and this sound have I\nheard every night, whereby my life hath been saved.\"\n\n\nVII.\n\nJosephus telleth us that as at this time was there no bell neither in\nGreater Britain nor in Lesser; but folk were called together by a horn,\nand in many places there were sheets of steel, and in other places\nclappers of wood.  King Arthur marvelled him much of this sound, so\nclear and sweet was it, and it well seemed him that it came on God's\nbehalf, and right fain was he to see a bell and so he might.  They were\nthe night until the morrow in the house, as I tell you.  The damsel\ntook leave of them and so departed.  As they came forth of the hold,\nthey met three hermits that told them they were going to search for the\nbodies that were in this manor so that they might bury them in a waste\nchapel that was hard by, for such knights had lain there as that\nhenceforward the haunting of the evil folk would be stayed in such sort\nas that they would have no more power to do hurt to any, wherefore they\nwould set therewithin a worshipful hermit that should build up the\nplace in holiness for the service of God.  The King was right joyful\nthereof, and told them that it had been too perilous.  They parted from\nthe hermits and entered into a forest, nor was there never a day so\nlong as King Arthur was on pilgrimage, so saith the history, but he\nheard the sound of one single bell every hour, whereof he was right\nglad.  He bade Messire Gawain and Lancelot that they should everywhere\nconceal his name, and that they should call him not Lord but Comrade.\nThey yielded him his will, and prayed to Our Lord that he would guide\nand lead them to such a castle and such a hostel as that they might be\nlodged honourably therein.  They rode on until evening drew nigh, and\nthey found a right fair hold in the forest, whereinto they entered and\nalighted.  The damsel of the hold came to meet them and made them right\ngreat cheer, then made them be disarmed, afterward bringeth them right\nrich robes to wear.  She looketh at Lancelot and knoweth him again.\n\n\nVIII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"You had once, on a day that is past, right great\npity of me, and saved me my honour, whereof am I in great unhappiness.\nBut better love I to suffer misease in honour, than to have plenty and\nabundance in shame or reproach, for shame endureth, but sorrow is soon\noverpassed.\"\n\nThereupon behold you the knight of the hold, whither he cometh from\nshooting in the forest and maketh carry in full great plenty venison of\ndeer and wild boar.  He alighted to greet the knights, and began to\nlaugh when he saw Lancelot.\n\n\"By my head,\" saith he, \"I know you well For you disappointed me of the\nthing I best loved in the world, and made me marry this damsel that\nnever yet had joy of me, nor never shall have.\"\n\n\"Faith, Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"You will do your pleasure therein, for\nshe is yours.  Truth it is that I made you marry her, for you were fain\nto do her a disgrace and a shame in such sort that her kinsfolk would\nhave had shame of her.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the knight, \"the damsel that I loved before loveth\nyou no better hereof, nay, rather, fain would she procure your vexation\nand your hurt and your shame if she may, and great power hath she in\nthis forest.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"I have sithence spoken to her and she to me,\nand so hath she told me her will and her wish.\"\n\nThereupon the knight bade the knights take water, and the lady taketh\nthe basins and presenteth water to the knights.\n\n\"Avoid, damsel,\" saith the King, \"Take it away!  Never, please God,\nshall it befall that we should accept such service from you.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the knight, \"But so must you needs do, for other\nthan she shall not serve you to-night in this matter, or otherwise\nshall you not eat with me this night there within.\"\n\n\nIX.\n\nLancelot understandeth that the knight is not overburdened of courtesy,\nand he seeth the table garnished of good meat, and bethinketh him he\nwill not do well to lose such ease, for misease enough had they the\nnight before.  He maketh the King take water of the lady, and the same\nservice did she for all of them.  The knight biddeth them be seated.\nThe King would have made the lady sit beside him at the table, but the\nknight said that there she should not sit.  She goeth to sit among the\nsquires as she was wont to do.  The knights are sorry enough thereof,\nbut they durst not gainsay the will of her lord.  When they had eaten,\nthe knight said to Lancelot, \"Now may you see what she hath gained of\nme by your making me take her perforce, nor never, so help me God, so\nlong as I live shall she be honoured otherwise by me, for so have I\npromised her that I love far more.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"To my thinking you do ill herein and a sin, and\nmeseemeth you should have great blame thereof of them that know it, and\nmay your churlishness be your own, for nought thereof take I to myself.\"\n\n\nX.\n\nLancelot telleth the King and Messire Gawain that were he not lodged in\nhis hostel, and had him outside of the hold, he would willingly have\nset the blood of his body on it but he would have handled him in such\nsort as that the lady should be maintained in greater honour, either by\nforce or by prayer, in like manner as he did when he made him marry\nher.  They were right well lodged the night and lay in the hold until\nthe morrow, when they departed thence, and rode right busily on their\njourneys until they came into a very different land, scarce inhabited\nof any folk, and found a little castle in a combe.  They came\nthitherward and saw that the enclosure of the castle was fallen down\ninto an abysm, so that none might approach it on that side, but it had\na right fair gateway and a door tall and wide whereby one entered.\nThey beheld a chapel that was right fair and rich, and below was a\ngreat ancient hall.  They saw a priest appear in the midst of the\ncastle, bald and old, that had come forth of the chapel.  They are come\nthither and alighted, and asked the priest what the castle was, and he\ntold them that it was the great Tintagel.\n\n\"And how is this ground all caved in about the castle?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the priest, \"I will tell you.  Sir,\" saith he, \"King Uther\nPendragon, that was father of King Arthur, held a great court and\nsummoned all his barons.  The King of this castle that then was here\nwas named Gorlois.  He went to the court and took his wife with him,\nthat was named Ygerne, and she was the fairest dame in any kingdom.\nKing Uther sought acquaintance of her for her great beauty, and\nregarded her and honoured her more than all the others of his court.\nKing Gorlois departed thence and made the Queen come back to this\ncastle for the dread that he had of King Uther Pendragon.  King Uther\nwas very wroth with him, and commanded him to send back the Queen his\nwife.  King Godois said that he would not.  Thereupon King Uther\nPendragon defied him, and then laid siege about this castle where the\nQueen was.  King Gorlois was gone to seek for succour.  King Uther\nPendragon had Merlin with him of whom you have heard tell, that was so\ncrafty. He made him be changed into the semblance of King Gorlois, so\nthat he entered there within by Merlin's art and lay that night with\nthe Queen, and so begat King Arthur in a great hall that was next to\nthe enclosure there where this abysm is.  And for this sin hath the\nground sunken in on this wise.\"\n\nHe cometh with them toward the chapel that was right fair, and had a\nright rich sepulchre therein.\n\n\"Lords, in this sepulchre was placed the body of Merlin, but never\nmought it be set inside the chapel, wherefore perforce it remained\noutside.  And know of a very truth that the body lieth not within the\nsepulchre, for, so soon as it was set therein, it was taken out and\nsnatched away, either on God's behalf or the Enemy's, but which we know\nnot.\"\n\n\nXI.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith King Arthur, \"And what became of King Gorlois?\"\n\n\"Sir.\" saith he, \"The King slew him on the morrow of the night he lay\nwith his wife, and so forthwith espoused Queen Ygerne, and in such\nmanner as I tell you was King Arthur conceived in sin that is now the\nbest King in the world.\"\n\nKing Arthur hath heard this as concerning his birth that he knew not,\nand is a little shamed thereof and confounded on account of Messire\nGawain and Lancelot.  He himself marvelleth much thereof, and much it\nmisliketh him that the priest hath said so much. They lay the night in\nthe hold, and so departed thence on the morrow when they had heard\nmass.  Lancelot and Messire Gawain, that thought they knew the forest,\nfound the land so changed and different that they knew not whither they\nwere become, and such an one as should come into the land that had been\nKing Fisherman's, and he should come again another time within forty\ndays, should not find the castle within a year.\n\n\nXII.\n\nJosephus telleth us that the semblances of the islands changed\nthemselves by reason of the divers adventures that by the pleasure of\nGod befell therein, and that the quest of adventures would not have\npleased the knights so well and they had not found them so different.\nFor, when they had entered into a forest or an island where they had\nfound any adventure, and they came there another time, they found holds\nand castles and adventures of another kind, so that their toils and\ntravails might not weary them, and also for that God would that the\nland should be conformed to the New Law.  And they were the knights\nthat had more toil and travail in seeking adventures than all the\nknights of the world before them, and in holding to that whereof they\nhad made covenant; nor of no court of no king in the world went forth\nso many good knights as went forth from the court of King Arthur, and\nbut that God loved them so much, never might they have endured such\ntoil and travail as they did from day to day; for without fait, good\nknights were they, and good knights not only to deal hard buffets, but\nrather in that they were loyal and true, and had faith in the Saviour\nof the World and His sweet Mother, and therefore dreaded shame and\nloved honour.  King Arthur goeth on his way and Messire Gawain and\nLancelot with him, and they pass through many strange countries, and so\nenter into a great forest.  Lancelot called to remembrance the knight\nthat he had slain in the Waste City whither behoved him to go, and knew\nwell that the day whereon he should come was drawing nigh.  He told\nKing Arthur as much, and then said, that and he should go not, he would\nbelie his covenant.  They rode until they came to a cross where the\nways forked.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"Behoveth me go to acquit me of my pledge, and I\ngo in great adventure and peril of death, nor know I whether I may live\nat all thereafter, for I slew the knight, albeit I was right sorry\nthereof, but or ever I slew him, I had to swear that I would go set my\nhead in the like jeopardy as he had set his.  Now the day draweth nigh\nthat I must go thither, for I am unwilling to fail of my covenant,\nwhereof I should be blamed, and, so God grant me to escape therefrom, I\nwill follow you speedily.\"\n\nThe King embraceth him and kisseth him at parting and Messire Gawain\nalso, and they pray God preserve his body and his life, and that they\nmay see him again ere it be long.  Lancelot would willingly have sent\nsalute to the Queen had he durst, for she lay nearer his heart than\naught beside, but he would not that the King nor Messire Gawain should\nmisdeem of the love they might carry to their kinswoman.  The love is\nso rooted in his heart that he may not leave it, into what peril soever\nhe may go; rather, he prayeth God every day as sweetly as he may, that\nHe save the Queen, and that he may deliver his body from this jeopardy.\nHe hath ridden until that he cometh at the hour of noon into the Waste\nCity, and findeth the city empty as it was the first time he was there.\n\n\nXIII.\n\nIn the city wherein Lancelot had arrived were many waste houses and\nrich palaces fallen down.  He had scarce entered within the city when\nhe heard a great cry and lamentation of dames and damsels, but he knew\nnot on which side it was, and they say: \"Ha, God, how hath the knight\nbetrayed us that slew the knight, inasmuch as he returneth not!  This\nday is the day come that he ought to redeem his pledge!  Never again\nought any to put trust in knight, for that he cometh not!  The others\nthat came hither before him have failed us, and so will he also for\ndread of death; for he smote off the head of the comeliest knight that\nwas in this kingdom and the best, wherefore ought he also to have his\nown smitten off, but good heed taketh he to save it if he may!\"\n\nThus spake the damsels.  Lancelot much marvelled where they might be,\nfor nought could he espy of them, albeit he cometh before the palace,\nthere where he slew the knight.  He alighteth, then maketh fast his\nhorse's reins to a ring that was fixed in the mounting-stage of marble.\nScarce hath he done so, when a knight alighteth, tall and comely and\nstrong and deliver, and he was clad in a short close-fitted jerkin of\nsilk, and held the axe in his hand wherewith Lancelot had smitten off\nthe head of the other knight, and he came sharpening it on a whetstone\nto cut the better.  Lancelot asketh him, \"What will you do with this\naxe?\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the knight, \"That shall you know in such sort as my\nbrother knew when you cut off his head, so I may speed of my business.\"\n\n\"How?\" saith Lancelot, \"Will you slay me then?\"\n\n\"That shall you know,\" saith he, \"or ever you depart hence.  Have you\nnot loyally promised hereof that you would set your head in the same\njeopardy as the knight set his, whom you slew without defence?  And no\notherwise may you depart therefrom.  Wherefore now come forward without\ndelay and kneel down and stretch your neck even as my brother did, and\nso will I smite off your head, and, if you do nor this of your own good\nwill, you shall soon find one that shall make you do it perforce, were\nyou twenty knights as good as you are one.  But well I know that you\nhave not come hither for this, but only to fulfil your pledge, and that\nyou will raise no contention herein.\"\n\nLancelot thinketh to die, and is minded to abide by that he hath in\ncovenant without fail, wherefore he lieth down on the ground as it were\non a cross, and crieth mercy of God.  He mindeth him of the Queen, and\ncrieth God of mercy and saith, \"Ha, Lady\" saith he, \"Never shall I see\nyou more!  but, might I have seen you yet once again before I die,\nexceeding great comfort had it been to me, and my soul would have\ndeparted from me more at ease.  But this, that never shall I see you\nmore, as now it seemeth me, troubleth me more than the death whereby\nbehoveth me to die, for die one must when one hath lived long enough.\nBut faithfully do I promise you that my love shall fail you not yet,\nand never shall it be but that my soul shall love you in the other\nworld like as my body hath loved you in this, if thus the soul may\nlove!\"\n\nWith that the tears fell from his eyes, nor, never sithence that he was\nknight, saith the story, had he wept for nought that had befallen him\nnor for heaviness of heart, but this time and one other.  He taketh\nthree blades of grass and so eateth thereof in token of the holy\ncommunion, then signeth him of the cross and blesseth him, riseth up,\nsetteth himself on his knees and stretcheth forth his neck.  The knight\nlifteth up the axe. Lancelot heareth the blow coming, boweth his head\nand the axe misseth him.  He saith to him, \"Sir Knight, so did not my\nbrother that you slew; rather, he held his head and neck quite still,\nand so behoveth you to do!\"\n\nTwo damsels appeared at the palace-windows of passing great beauty, and\nthey knew Lancelot well.  So, as the knight was aiming a second blow,\none of the damsels crieth to him, \"And you would have my love for\nevermore, throw down the axe and cry the knight quit!  Otherwise have\nyou lost me for ever!\"\n\nThe knight forthwith flingeth down the axe and falleth at Lancelot's\nfeet and crieth mercy of him as of the most loyal knight in the world.\n\n\"But you?  Have mercy on me, you!  and slay me not!\" saith Lancelot,\n\"For it is of you that I ought to pray mercy!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"Of a surety will I not do this!  Rather will\nI help you to my power to save your life against all men, for all you\nhave slain my brother.\"\n\nThe damsels come down from the palace and are come to Lancelot.\n\n\nXIV.\n\n\"Sir,\" say they to Lancelot, \"Greatly ought we to love you, yea, better\nthan all knights in the world beside.  For we are the two damsels,\nsisters, that you saw so poor at the Waste Castle where you lay in our\nbrother's house.  You and Messire Gawain and another knight gave us the\ntreasure and the hold of the robber-knights that you slew; for this\ncity which is waste and the Waste Castle of my brother would never\nagain be peopled of folk, nor should we never have had the land again,\nsave a knight had come hither as loyal as are you.  Full a score\nknights have arrived here by chance in the same manner as you came, and\nnot one of them but hath slain a brother or a kinsman and cut off his\nhead as you did to the knight, and each one promised to return at the\nday appointed; but all failed of their covenant, for not one of them\ndurst come to the day; and so you had failed us in like manner as the\nothers, we should have lost this city without recovery and the castles\nthat are its appanages.\"\n\n\nXV.\n\nSo the knight and the damsels lead Lancelot into the palace and then\nmake him be disarmed.  They hear presently how the greatest joy in the\nworld is being made in many parts of the forest, that was nigh the city.\n\n\"Sir,\" say the damsels, \"Now may you hear the joy that is made of your\ncoming.  These are the burgesses and dwellers in the city that already\nknow the tidings.\"\n\nLancelot leaneth at the windows of the hall, and seeth the city peopled\nof the fairest folk in the world, and great thronging in the broad\nstreets and the great palace, and clerks and priests coming in long\nprocession praising God and blessing Him for that they may now return\nto their church, and giving benison to the knight through whom they are\nfree to repair thither.  Lancelot was much honoured throughout the\ncity.  The two damsels are at great pains to wait upon him, and right\ngreat worship had he of all them that were therewithin and them that\ncame thither, both clerks and priests.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XXI.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nTherewithal the history is silent of Lancelot, and speaketh word of the\nKing and Messire Gawain, that are in sore misgiving as concerning him,\nfor right gladly would they have heard tidings of him.  They met a\nknight that was coming all armed, and Messire Gawain asketh him whence\nhe came, and he said that he came from the land of the Queen of the\nGolden Circlet, to whom a sore loss hath befallen; for the Son of the\nWidow Lady had won the Circlet of Gold for that he had slain the Knight\nof the Dragon, and she was to keep it safe for him and deliver it up to\nhim at his will.\n\n\"But now hath Nabigant of the Rock reft her thereof, and a right\noutrageous knight is he and puissant; wherefore hath he commanded a\ndamsel that she bring it to an assembly of knights that is to be held\nin the Meadow of the Tent of the two damsels, there where Messire\nGawain did away the evil custom.  The damsel that will bring the Golden\nCirclet will give it to the knight that shall do best at the assembly.\nNabigant is keenly set upon having it, and maketh the more sure for\nthat once aforetime he hath had it by force of arms.  And I am going to\nthe knights that know not these tidings, in order that when they shall\nhear them, they shall go to the assembly.\"\n\nTherewithal the knight departeth.  The King and Messire Gawain have\nridden so far that they come to the tent where Messire Gawain destroyed\nthe evil custom by slaying the two knights.  He found the tent\ngarnished within and without in like manner as it was when he was\nthere, and Messire Gawain made the King be seated on a quilted mattress\nof straw, right costly, and thereafter be disarmed of a squire, and he\nhimself disarmed him, and they washed their hands and faces for the\nrust wherewith both of them were besmuttered.  And Messire Gawain found\nthe chests unlocked that were at the head of the couch, and made the\nKing be apparelled of white rich stuffs that he found, and a robe of\ncloth of silk and gold, and he clad himself in the like manner, neither\nwas the chest not a whit disfurnished thereby, for the tent was all\ngarnished of rich adornments.  When they were thus dight, a man might\nhave sought far or ever he should find so comely knights.\n\n\nII.\n\nThereupon, behold you the two Damsels of the Tent coming.\n\n\"Damsels,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Welcome may you be.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" say they, \"Good adventure may you have both twain.  It seemeth\nus that you take right boldly that which is ours, yet never for neither\nof us would you do a thing whereof you were beseeched.\"\n\n\"Messire Gawain\" saith the elder, \"No knight is there in this kingdom\nbut would be right joyous and he supposed that I loved him, and I\nprayed you of your love on a day that is past, for the valour of your\nknighthood, yet never did you grant it me.  How durst you have affiance\nin me of aught, and take the things that are mine own so boldly, when I\nmay not have affiance in you?\"\n\n\"Damsel, for your courtesy and the good custom of the land; for you\ntold me when the evil customs were overthrown, that all the honours and\nall the courtesies that are due to knights should ever be ready within\nfor all them that should come hither for harbour.\"\n\n\"Messire Gawain, you say true, but of right might one let the courtesy\ntarry and pay back churlishness by churlishness.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\n\"The assembly of knights will begin to-morrow in this launde that is so\nfair.  There will be knights in plenty, and the prize will be the\nCirclet of Gold.  Now shall we see who will do best.  The assembly will\nlast three whole days, and of one thing at least you may well make\nboast between you and your comrade, that you have the fairest hostel\nand the most pleasant and the most quiet of any knights at the\nassembly.\"\n\nThe younger damsel looketh at King Arthur.  \"And you,\" saith she, \"What\nwill you do?  Will you be as strange toward us as Messire Gawain is\nfriendly with others?\"\n\n\nIV.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the king, \"Messire Gawain will do his pleasure and I\nmine.  Strange shall I not be in respect of you, nor toward other\ndamsels; rather shall they be honoured on my part so long as I live,\nand I myself will be at your commandment.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Gramercy greatly.  I pray you, therefore, that you\nbe my knight at the tournament.\"\n\n\"Damsel, this ought I not to refuse you, and right glad at heart shall\nI be and I may do aught that shall please you; for all knights ought to\nbe at pains for the sake of dame or damsel.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"what is your name?\"\n\n\nV.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"My name is Arthur, and I am of Tincardoil.\"\n\n\"Have you nought to do with King Arthur?\"\n\n\"Damsel, already have I been many times at his court, and, if he loved\nme not nor I him, I should not be in Messire Gawain's company.  In\ntruth, he is the King in the world that I love best.\"\n\nThe damsel looketh at King Arthur, but wotteth not a whir that it is\nhe, and full well is she pleased with the seeming and countenance of\nhim.  As for the King, lightly might he have trusted that he should\nhave her as his lady-love so long as he remained with her; but there is\nmuch to say betwixt his semblant and his thought, for he showeth good\nsemblant toward the damsel, that hath over much affiance therein, but\nhis thought is on Queen Guenievre in what place soever he may be.  For\nnought loveth he so well as her.\n\n\nVI.\n\nThe damsels made stable the horses and purvey for the bodies of the\nknights right richly at night, and they lay in two right rich beds in\nthe midst of the hall, and their arms were all set ready before.  The\ndamsels would not depart until such time as they were asleep.  The\nharness of the knights that came to the assembly came on the morrow\nfrom all parts.  They set up their booths and stretched their tents all\nround about the launde of the forest.  King Arthur and Messire Gawain\nwere risen in the morning and saw the knights come from all parts.  The\nelder damsel cometh to Messire Gawain and saith unto him, \"Sir,\" saith\nshe, \"I will that you bear to-day red arms that I will lend you, for\nthe love of me, and take heed that they be well employed, and I desire\nthat you should not be known by your arms; rather let it be said that\nyou are the Red Knight, and you shall allow it accordingly.\"\n\n\"Damsel, Gramercy greatly!\" saith Messire Gawain,  \"I will do my\nendeavour in arms the best I may for love of you.\"\n\nThe younger damsel cometh to King Arthur; \"Sir,\" saith she, \"My sister\nhath made her gift and I will make mine.  I have a suit of arms of\ngold, the richest that knight may wear, that I will lend you, for\nmethinketh they will be better employed on you than on ever another\nknight; so I pray you that you remember me at the assembly in like\nmanner as I shall ofttimes remember you.\"\n\n\nVII.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Gramercy!  No knight is there that should\nsee you but ought to have you in remembrance in his heart for your\ncourtesy and your worth.\"\n\nThe knights were come about the tents.  The King and Messire Gawain\nwere armed and had made caparison their horses right richly.  The\ndamsel that should give the Golden Circlet was come. Nabigant of the\nRock had brought great fellowships of knights together with him, and\nordinance was made for the assembly.\n\n\nVIII.\n\nThe younger damsel saith to King Arthur: \"Well may you know that no\nknight that is here this day hath better arms than are yours, wherefore\ntake heed that you show you to be good knight for love of me.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith King Arthur, \"God grant that I be so.\"\n\nSo they laid hold on their reins and mounted their horses, that made\ngreat leaping and went away a great gallop.  Saith the younger damsel\nto her sister: \"What think you of my knight, doth he not please you?\"\n\n\"Yea,\" saith the elder, \"But sore misliketh me of Messire Gawain for\nthat he is not minded to do as I would have him.  But he shall yet aby\nit dear.\"\n\nKing Arthur and Messire Gawain strike into the midst of the assembly\nlike as it were two lions unchained, and at their first coming they\nsmite down two knights to the ground under the feet of their horses.\nMessire Gawain taketh the two horses and sendeth them by a squire to\nthe Damsels of the Tent, that made much joy thereof.  After that were\nthey not minded to take more booty as of horses or arms, but searched\nthe fellowships on one side and the other; nor was there no knight that\ncame against them but they pierced his shield or bore him to the\nground, insomuch as none was there that might endure their buffets.\nNabigant espieth Messire Gawain and cometh toward him, and Messire\nGawain toward him again, and they hurtle together either on other so\nstrongly that Messire Gawain beareth Nabigant to the ground, him and\nhis horse together all in a heap.  And King Arthur was not idle, for no\nknight durst come against him but he overthrew him, so as that all\nwithdrew them back and avoided his buffets.  And many knights did well\nthat day at the assembly, but none might be the match of either of them\ntwain in deeds of arms, for, save it were Lancelot or Perceval, were no\nknights on live that had in them so much hardiment and valour.  After\nthat it was evensong the knights drew them back to their tents, and\nthey say all that the Knight of the Golden Arms and the Knight of the\nRed Arms had done better than they all at the assembly.  King Arthur\nand Messire Gawain come back to the tent of the damsels, that make\ndisarm them and do upon them the rich robes and make great joy of them.\nThereupon, behold you, a dwarf that cometh: \"Damsels, make great joy!\nfor all they of the assembly say with one accord that your knights have\ndone best this day.\"\n\nKing Arthur and Messire Gawain sate to eat, and right well were they\nserved of every kind of meats and of great cups of wine and sops in\nwine.  King Arthur made the younger damsel sit beside him, and Messire\nGawain the elder in like manner, and when they had eaten they went to\nlie down and fell on sleep, for right sore weary were they and\nforespent of the many buffets they had given and received, and they\nslept until the morrow.\n\n\nIX.\n\nWhen the day appeared they rose up.  Thereupon, behold you the younger\ndamsel where she cometh and saluteth King Arthur.  \"And you, damsel!\"\nsaith King Arthur, \"God give you joy and good adventure!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I will that you bear to-day these white arms that\nyou see here, and that you do no worse to-day than yesterday you did,\nsith that better you may not do.\"\n\n\"Messire Gawain,\" saith the elder damsel, \"Remember you of the King\nthere where his land was compassed about of a wall of stone, and you\nharboured one night in his castle, what time you went to seek for the\nsword wherewith John Baptist was beheaded, when he was fain to take\naway the sword from you, whereof you had so sore misliking?  Natheless,\nhe yielded you up the sword upon covenant that you should do that which\na damsel should first ask you to do thereafter, and you promised him\nloyally that so would you do?\"\n\n\"Certes, damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Well do I remember the same.\"\n\n\"Now, therefore,\" saith the damsel, \"would I fain prove whether you be\nindeed so loyal as men say, and whether you will hold your covenant\nthat you made.  Wherefore I pray and beseech you that this day you\nshall be he that doth worst of all the knights at the assembly, and\nthat you bear none other arms save your own only, so as that you shall\nbe known again of all them that are there present.  And, so you will\nnot do this, then will you have failed of your covenant, and myself\nwill go tell the King that you have broken the promise that you made to\nhim right loyally.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Never yet brake I covenant with none,\nso it were such as I might fulfil or another on my behalf.\"\n\nKing Arthur made arm him of the white arms that the younger damsel had\ngiven him, and Messire Gawain of his own, but sore it irked him of this\nthat the damsel hath laid upon him to do, sith that needs must he lose\nworship and he hold to his covenant, albeit not for nought that is in\nthe world will he fail of the promise he hath made.  So they come into\nthe assembly.\n\n\nX.\n\nKing Arthur smiteth with his spurs like a good knight and overthroweth\ntwo knights in his onset, and Messire Gawain rideth a bandon betwixt\ntwo fellowships to be the better known.  The most part say, \"See!\nThere is Messire Gawain, the good knight that is King Arthur's nephew.\"\n\nNabigant of the Rock cometh toward him as fast as his horse may carry\nhim, lance in rest.  Messire Gawain seeth him coming toward him right\nfuriously.  He casteth his shield down on the ground and betaketh him\nto flight as swiftly as he may.  They that beheld him, some two score\nor more, marvel thereof, and say, \"Did ever one see the like\noverpassing cowardize!\"\n\nNabigant saith that he never yet followed a knight that was vanquished,\nnor never will follow one of such conditions, for no great prize would\nit be to take him and win his horse.  Other knights come to joust with\nhim, but Messire Gawain fleeth and avoideth them the best he may, and\nmaketh semblance that none is there he durst abide.  He draweth toward\nKing Arthur for safety. The King hath great shame of this that he seeth\nhim do, and right sore pains hath he of defending Messire Gawain, for\nhe holdeth as close to him as the pie doth to the bramble when the\nfalcon would take her.  In such shame and dishonour was Messire Gawain\nas long as the assembly lasted, and the knights said that he had gotten\nhim off with much less than he deserved, for that never had they seen\nso craven knight at assembly or tournament as was he, nor never\nhenceforth would they have dread of him as they had heretofore.  From\nthis day forward may many lightly avenge themselves upon him of their\nkinsfolk and friends that he hath slain by the forest.   The assembly\nbrake up in the evening, whereof the King and Messire Gawain were right\nwell pleased.  The knights disarm them at their hostels and the King\nand Messire Gawain at the damsels' tent.\n\n\nXI.\n\nWith that, behold you the dwarf that cometh.\n\n\"By my head, damsels, your knights go from bad to worse!  Of him in the\nwhite arms one may even let pass, but Messire Gawain is the most coward\never saw I yet, and so he were to run upon me to-morrow and I were\narmed like as is he, I should think me right well able to defend me\nagainst him. 'Tis the devil took him to a place where is such plenty of\nknights, for the more folk that are there the better may one judge of\nhis ill conditions.  And you, Sir,\" saith he to the King, \"Wherefore do\nyou keep him company? You would have done best to-day had he not been\nthere.  He skulked as close by you, to be out of the buffets, as a hare\ndoth to the wood for the hounds.  No business hath good knight to hold\ncompany with a coward.  I say not this for that I would make him out\nworse that he is, for I remember the two knights he slew before this\ntent.\"\n\nThe damsel heareth the dwarf talking and smileth thereat, for she\nunderstandeth that blame enough hath Messire Gawain had at the\nassembly.  The knights said at their hostels that they knew not to whom\nto give the Circlet of Gold, sith that the Knight of the Golden Armour\nand he of the Red Armour were not there; for they did the best the\nfirst day of the assembly, and much they marvelled that they should not\ncome when it was continued on the morrow.\n\n\"Gawain,\" saith the King, \"Sore blame have you had this day, and I\nmyself have been all shamed for your sake.  Never thought I that so\ngood a knight as you might ever have known how to counterfeit a bad\nknight as you did.  You have done much for the love of the damsel, and\nright well had she avenged herself of you and you had done her great\nannoy.  Howbeit, and to-morrow your cowardize be such as it hath been\nto-day, never will the day be when you shall not have blame thereof.\"\n\n\nXII.\n\n\"By my faith.\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Behoveth me do the damsel's\npleasure sith that we have fallen by ill-chance into her power.\"\n\nThey went to bed at night and took their rest as soon as they had\neaten, and on the morrow the damsel came to Messire Gawain.\n\n\"I will,\" saith she, \"that you be clad in the same arms as was your\ncomrade on the first day, right rich, that I will lend you, and I will,\nmoreover, that you be knight so good as that never on any day were you\nbetter.  But I command you, by the faith you pledged me the other day,\nto obey this caution, that you make yourself known to none, and so any\nman in the world shall ask your name, you shall say that you are the\nknight of the Golden Arms.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Gawain, \"Gramercy, I will do your pleasure.\"\n\nThe younger damsel cometh back to the King: \"Sir,\" saith she, \"I will\nthat you wear new arms: You shall bear them red, the same as Messire\nGawain bore the first day, and I pray you be such as you were the first\nday, or better.\"\n\n\nXIII.\n\n\"Damsel, I will do my best to amend myself and my doings, and right\nwell pleased am I of that it pleaseth you to say.\"\n\nTheir horses were caparisoned and the knights mounted, all armed. They\ncome together to the tournament with such an onset as that they pass\nthrough the thickest of the press and overthrew knights and horses as\nmany as they encountered.  King Arthur espieth Nabigant that came right\ngaily caparisoned, and smiteth him so passing strong a buffet in the\nmidst of his breast that he beareth him down from his horse, in such\nsort that he breaketh his collar-bone, and presenteth the destrier, by\nhis squire, to the younger damsel, that maketh great joy thereof.  And\nMessire Gawain searcheth the fellowships on all sides, and so well did\nhe search that scarce was one might endure his blows.  King Arthur is\nnot idle, but pierceth shields and beateth in helms, the while all look\non in wonderment at him and Messire Gawain.  The story saith that the\nKing would have done still better, but that he put not forth his full\nstrength in deeds of arms, for that Messire Gawain had done so ill the\nday before, and now he would fain that he should have the prize.\n\n\nXIV.\n\nThe damsel that held the Golden Circlet was in the midst of the\nassembly of knights, and had set it in a right rich casket of ivory\nwith precious stones, right worshipfully.  When the damsel saw that the\nassembly was at an end, she made all the knights stay, and prayed them\nthey should speak judgment true, concealing nought, who had best\ndeserved of arms, and ought therefore of right to have the Golden\nCircle.  They said all, that of right judgment the Knight of the Golden\nArms and he of the Red Arms ought to have the prize above all the\nothers, but that of these two, he of the Golden Arms ought to have the\nprize, for so well did he the first day as that no knight might do\nbetter, and on the last day likewise, and that if he of the Red Arms\nhad put forth his full strength on the last day, he would have done\nfull as well or better.  The Circlet of Gold was brought to Messire\nGawain, but it was not known that it was he; and Messire Gawain would\nfain that it had been given to my Lord King Arthur.  The knights\ndeparted from the assembly.  The King and Messire Gawain came back to\nthe tent and brought the Golden Circlet, whereof the damsels made great\njoy.  Thereupon, behold you!  the dwarf that cometh back.\n\n\"Damsels, better is it to lodge knights such as these than Messire\nGawain the coward, the craven that had so much shame at the assembly!\nYou yourselves would have been sore blamed had you lodged him.  This\nknight hath won the Golden Circlet by force of arms, and Messire Gawain\nnought but shame and reproach.\"\n\nThe damsel laugheth at this that the dwarf saith, and biddeth him on\nhis eyes and head, begone!\n\n\nXV.\n\nThe King and Messire Gawain were disarmed.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"What will you do with the Golden Circlet?\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"I will bear it to him that first won\nit in sore peril of death, and delivered it to the Queen that ought to\nhave kept it safe, of whom it hath been reft by force.\"\n\nThe King and Messire Gawain lay the night in the tent.  The younger\ndamsel cometh to the King.\n\n\"Sir, many feats of arms have you done at the assembly, as I have been\ntold, for love of me, and I am ready to reward you.\"\n\n\"Damsel, right great thanks.  Your reward and your service love I much,\nand your honour yet more, wherefore I would that you should have all\nthe honour that any damsel may have, for in damsel without honour ought\nnone to put his affiance.  Our Lord God grant you to preserve yours.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith she to the other that sitteth before Messire Gawain,\n\"This Knight and Messire Gawain have taken counsel together.  There is\nneither solace nor comfort in them.  Let us leave them to go to sleep,\nand ill rest may they have, and Lord God defend us ever hereafter from\nsuch guests.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the eider damsel, \"were it not for the Golden\nCirclet that he is bound of right to deliver again to the Queen that\nhad it in charge, who is my Lady, they should not depart from this land\nin such sort as they will.  But, and Messire Gawain still be nice as\nconcerneth damsels, at least I now know well that he is loyal in\nanotherwise, so as that he will not fail of his word.\"\n\n\nXVI.\n\nWith that the damsels departed, as did likewise the King and Messire\nGawain as soon as they saw the day.  Nabigant, that was wounded at the\ntournament, was borne away on a litter.  Meliot of Logres was in quest\nof Messire Gawain.  He met the knights and the harness that came from\nthe assembly, and asked of many if they could tell him tidings of King\nArthur's nephew, Messire Gawain, and the most part answer, \"Yea, and\nright bad tidings enough.\"\n\nThen they ask him wherefore he demandeth.\n\n\"Lords,\" saith he, \"His liege man am I, and he ought of right to defend\nmy land against all men, that Nabigant hath taken from me without right\nnor reason, whom they are carrying from thence in a litter, wherefore I\nam fain to beseech Messire Gawain that he help me to recover my land.\"\n\n\"In faith, Sir Knight,\" say they, \"We know not of what avail he may be\nto others that may not help himself.  Messire Gawain was at the\nassembly, but we tell you for true, it was he that did worst thereat.\"\n\n\"Alas,\" saith Meliot of Logres, \"Then have I lost my land, and he hath\nbecome even such an one as you tell me.\"\n\n\"You would readily believe us,\" say they, \"had you seen him at the\nassembly!\"\n\nMeliot turneth him back, right sorrowful.\n\n\nXVII.\n\nKing Arthur and Messire Gawain depart from the tent, and come a great\npace as though they fain would escape thence to come nigher the land\nwhere they would be, and great desire had they of the coming of\nLancelot.  They rode until that they came one night to the Waste Manor\nwhither the brachet led Messire Gawain when he found the dead knight\nthat Lancelot had slain.  They lodged there the night, and found there\nknights and damsels of whom they were known.  The Lady of the Waste\nManor sent for succour to her knights, saying that she held there King\nArthur that slew other knights, and that his nephew Messire Gawain was\nalso there within, but dearly would she have loved that Lancelot had\nbeen with them that slew her brother.  Knights in plenty came to her to\ndo hurt to King Arthur and Messire Gawain, but she had at least so much\ncourtesy in her that she would not suffer any of them to do them ill\nwithin her hold, albeit she kept seven of their number, full of great\nhardiment, to guard the entrance of the bridge, so that King Arthur and\nMessire Gawain might not depart thence save only amidst the points of\ntheir spears.\n\n\nXVIII.\n\nThis high history witnesseth us that Lancelot was departed from the\nWaste City wherein he was much honoured, and rode until that he came to\na forest where he met Meliot of Logres, that was sore dismayed of the\ntidings he had heard of Messire Gawain.  Lancelot asketh him whence he\ncometh, and he saith from seeking Messire Gawain, of whom he had\ntidings whereof he was right sorrowful.\n\n\"How,\" saith Lancelot, \"Is he then otherwise than well?\"\n\n\"Yea,\" saith he, \"As I have heard tell: for he wont to be good knight\nand hath now become evil.  He was at the assembly of knights whereof I\nmet the harness and the fellowships, and they told me that never yet\nwas such cowardize in any knight, but that a knight who was with him\ndid right well.  But howsoever he may have borne himself, right fain am\nI to find him, for, maugre what any may say, I may scarce believe that\nhe is so bad after all.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"I will seek him for you, and you can come along\nwith me and it seemeth you good.\"\n\nMeliot of Logres betaketh him back with Lancelot.  They ride until they\nhappen by chance upon the Waste Manor where the King and Messire Gawain\nwere lodged; and they were armed, and were minded to go forth from\nthence.  But the seven knights guarded the issue, all armed.  The King\nand Messire Gawain saw that no good would it do them to remain there\nwithin, wherefore they passed over the bridge and came perforce to the\nplace where the seven knights were watching for them.  Thereupon, they\nwent toward them all armed and struck among them, and the knights\nreceived them on the points of their lances.\n\n\nXIX.\n\nThereupon, behold you!  Lancelot and the knight with him, whom they had\nnot been looking for.  Lancelot espied the King and Messire Gawain;\nthen the knights cried out and struck among them as a hawk striketh\namongst larks, and made them scatter on one side and the other.\nLancelot hath caught one at his coming, and smiteth him with his spear\nthrough the body, and Meliot of Logres slayeth another.  King Arthur\nknew Lancelot, and right glad was he to see him safe and sound, as was\nMessire Gawain likewise. Lancelot and Meliot of Logres made clear the\npassage for them. The knights departed, for longer durst they not\nabide.  The damsel of the castle held a squire by the hand, that was\nright passing comely.  She knew Lancelot, and when she saw him she\ncalled him.\n\n\nXX.\n\n\"Lancelot, you slew this squire's brother, and, please God, either he\nor another shall take vengeance thereof.\"\n\nLancelot holdeth his peace when he heareth the dame speak, and\ndeparteth from the Waste Hold.  Meliot of Logres knew Messire Gawain\nand Messire Gawain him again, and great joy made they the one of the\nother.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Meliot, \"I am come to lay plaint before you of Nabigant of\nthe Rock that challengeth me of the land whereof I am your man, and\nsaith that he will defend it against none but you only.  Sir, the day\nis full nigh, and if you come not to the day, I shall have lost my\nquarrel, and you held me thereof in covenant what time I became your\nman.\"\n\n\"Right fainly will I go,\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\nHe goeth his way thither accordingly by leave of the King and Lancelot,\nand saith that he will return to them the speediest he may.\n\n\nXXI.\n\nKing Arthur and Lancelot go their way as fast as they may toward the\nland that was King Fisherman's.  Messire Gawain rideth until he cometh\nto the land of Nabigant of the Rock. Meliot doeth Nabigant to wit that\nMessire Gawain was come, and that he was ready to uphold his right by\nhim that was his champion.  Nabigant was whole of the wound he gat at\nthe assembly, and held Messire Gawain of full small account for the\ncowardize that he saw him do, and bid his knights not meddle betwixt\nthem two, for, and Messire Gawain had been four knights he thought to\nvanquish them all.  He issueth forth of his castle all armed, and is\ncome there where Messire Gawain awaited him.  Messire Gawain seeth him\ncoming, and so draweth on one side, and Nabigant, that was stark\noutrageous, setteth his spear in rest and cometh toward Messire Gawain\nwithout another word, and smiteth him on the shield so that he maketh\nhis spear fly all in pieces.  And Messire Gawain catcheth him right in\nthe midst of his breast, and pierceth him with his spear through the\nthick of his heart, and he falleth to the ground dead; and the knights\nrun upon Messire Gawain; but he lightly delivereth himself of them, and\nMeliot of Logres likewise.  Messire Gawain entereth the castle by\nforce, doing battle against all the knights, and holdeth them in such a\npass as that he maketh them do homage to Meliot of Logres, and deliver\nup to him the keys of the castle.  He maketh them come to an assembly\nfrom the whole of the land they had reft away from him, and thereafter\ndeparteth and followeth after King Arthur.  In the forest, he\novertaketh a damsel that was going on her way a great pace.\n\n\nXXII.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Lord God guide you, whither away so\nfast?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I am going to the greatest assembly of knights you\nsaw ever.\"\n\n\"What assembly?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"At the Palace Meadow, but the knight I am seeking is\nhe that won the Circlet of Gold at the Meadow of the Tent.  Fair Sir,\ncan you give me any tidings of him?\" saith she.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"What would you do herein?\"\n\n\"Certes, Sir, I would right fain find him.  My Lady, that kept the\nCirclet of Gold for the son of the Widow Lady, that won it aforetime,\nhath sent me to seek him.\"\n\n\"For what intent, damsel?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Sir, my Lady sendeth for him and beseecheth him by me, for the sake of\nthe Saviour of the World, that if he had ever pity of dame or damsel,\nhe will take vengeance on Nabigant that hath slain her men and\ndestroyed her land, for she hath been told how he that won back the\nGolden Circlet ought of right to take vengeance upon him.\"\n\n\nXXIII.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Be not any longer troubled hereof, for\nI tell you that the knight that won the Golden Circlet by prize of arms\nhath killed Nabigant already.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"How know you this?\"\n\n\"I know the knight well,\" saith he, \"And I saw him slay him, and\nbehold, here is the Circlet of Gold that I have as a token hereof, for\nthat he beareth it to him that hath won the Graal, to the intent that\nyour Lady may be quit of her charge.\"\n\nMessire Gawain showeth her the Golden Circlet in the casket of ivory,\nthat he kept very nigh himself.  Right joyful was the damsel that the\nmatter had thus fallen out, and goeth her way back again to tell her\nLady of her joy.  Messire Gawain goeth on his way toward the assembly,\nfor well knoweth he that, and King Arthur and Lancelot have heard the\ntidings, there will they be. He goeth thitherward as fast as he may,\nand as straight, and scarce hath he ridden away or ever he met a squire\nthat seemed right weary, and his hackney sore worn of the way.  Messire\nGawain asked him whence he came, and the squire said to him. \"From the\nland of King Arthur, where is great war toward, for that none knoweth\nnot what hath become of him.  Many folk go about saying that he is\ndead, for never sithence that he departed from Cardoil, and Messire\nGawain and Lancelot with him, have no tidings been heard of him; and he\nleft the Queen at Cardoil to take his place, and also on account of her\nson's death, and the most part say that he is dead.  Briant of the\nIsles and my Lord Kay with him are burning his land, and carrying off\nplunder before all the castles.  Of all the Knights of the Table Round\nare there now no more than five and thirty, and of these are ten sore\nwounded, and they are in Cardoil, and there protect the land the best\nthey may.\"\n\n\nXXIV.\n\nWhen Messire Gawain heareth these tidings, they touch his heart right\nsore, so that he goeth the straightest he may toward the assembly, and\nthe squire with him that was sore fordone.  Messire Gawain found King\nArthur and Lancelot, and the knights were come from all the kingdom to\nthe piece of ground.  For a knight was come thither that had brought a\nwhite destrier and borne thither a right rich crown of gold, and it was\nknown throughout all the lands that marched with this, that the knight\nthat should do best at the assembly should have the destrier and the\ncrown, for the Queen that ware it was dead, and it would behove him to\nguard and defend the land whereof she had been Lady.  On account of\nthese tidings had come thither great plenty of folk and of folk.  King\nArthur and Messire Gawain and Lancelot set them of one side.  The story\nsaith that at this assembly King Arthur bare the red shield that the\ndamsel gave him; Messire Gawain had his own, such as he was wont to\nbear, and Lancelot a green shield that he bare for the love of the\nknight that was slain for helping him in the forest.  They struck into\nthe assembly like lions unchained, and cast down three knights at their\nfirst onset.  They searched the fellowships on every side, smote down\nknights and overthrew horses.\n\n\nXXV.\n\nKing Arthur overtook no knight but he clave his shield to the boss: all\nswerved aside and avoided his buffets.  And Messire Gawain and Lancelot\nare not idle on the other hand, but each held well his place.  But the\nmore part had wonderment looking at the King, for he holdeth him at bay\nlike a lion when the staghounds would attack him.  The assembly lasted\nthroughout on such wise, and when it came to an end, the knights said\nand adjudged that the Knight of the Red Shield had surpassed all other\nin doing well.  The knight that had brought the crown came to the King,\nbut knew him not a whit: \"Sir,\" saith he, \"You have by your good deeds\nof arms won this crown of gold and this destrier, whereof ought you to\nmake great joy, so only you have so much valour in you as that you may\ndefend the land of the best earthly Queen that is dead, and whether the\nKing be alive or dead none knoweth, wherefore great worship will it be\nto yourself and you may have prowess to maintain the land, for right\nbroad is it and right rich and of high sovranty.\"\n\n\nXXVI.\n\nSaith King Arthur, \"Whose was the land, and what was the name of the\nQueen whose crown I see?\"\n\n\"Sir, the King's name was Arthur, and the best king in the world was\nhe; but in his kingdom the more part say that he is dead. And this\ncrown was the crown of Queen Guenievre that is dead and buried, whereof\nis sore sorrow.  The knights that may not leave Cardoil lest Briant of\nthe Isles should seize the city, they sent me to the kingdom of Logres\nand charged me with the crown and destrier for that I have knowledge of\nthe isles and foreign lands; wherefore they prayed me I should go among\nthe assemblies of knights, that so I might hear tidings of my Lord King\nArthur and my Lord Gawain and Lancelot, and, so I might find them, that\nI should tell them how the land hath fallen into this grievous sorrow.\"\n\nKing Arthur heareth tidings whereof he is full sorrowful.  He draweth\non one side, and the knights make the most grievous dole in the world.\nLancelot knoweth not what he may do, and saith between his teeth that\nnow hath his joy come to an end and his knighthood is of no avail, for\nthat he hath lost the high Queen, the valiant, that heart and comfort\ngave him and encouragement to do well.  The tears ran down from his\ncomely eyes right amidst his face and through the ventail, and, had he\ndurst make other dole, yet greater would it have been.  Of the mourning\nthe King made is there nought to speak, for this sorrow resembleth none\nother.  He holdeth the crown of gold, and looketh full oft at the\ndestrier for love of her, for he had given it her; and Messire Gawain\nmay not stint of making dole.\n\n\nXXVII.\n\n\"Certes\", saith he, \"Now may I well say that the best Queen in the\nworld and of most understanding is dead, nor never hereafter shall be\nnone of equal worth.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot to the King, \"So it please you, and Messire\nGawain be willing, I will go back toward Cardoil, and help to defend\nyour land to the best I may, for sore is it discounselled, until such\ntime as you shall be come from the Graal.\"\n\n\"Certes,\" saith Messire Gawain to the King, \"Lancelot hath spoken well,\nso you grant him your consent.\"\n\n\"That do I with right good will,\" saith the Kind, \"And I pray him right\nheartily that he go thither and be guardian of my land and the\ngovernance thereof, until such a time as God shall have brought me\nback.\"\n\nLancelot taketh leave of the King and goeth his way back, all sorrowing\nand full of discontent.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XXII.\n\nINCIPIT.\n\nOf Lancelot the story is here silent, and so beginneth another branch\nof the Graal in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy\nGhost.\n\n\nTITLE I.\n\nYou may well understand that King Arthur is no whit joyful.  He maketh\nthe white destrier go after him, and hath the crown of gold full near\nhimself.  They ride until they come to the castle that belonged to King\nFisherman, and they found it as rich and fair as you have heard told\nmany a time.  Perceval, that was there within, made right great joy of\ntheir coming, as did all the priests and ancient knights.  Perceval\nleadeth King Arthur, when he was disarmed, into the chapel where the\nGraal was, and Messire Gawain maketh present to Perceval of the Golden\nCirclet, and telleth him that the Queen sendeth it to him, and relateth\nalso how Nabigant had seized it, and moreover, how Nabigant was dead.\nThe King offereth the crown that had been Queen Guenievre's.  When\nPerceval knew that she was dead, he was right sorrowful thereof in his\nheart, and wept and lamented her right sweetly.  He showeth them the\ntomb of King Fisherman, and telleth them that none had set the\ntabernacle there above the coffin, but only the commandment of Our\nLord, and he showeth them a rich pall that is upon the coffin, and\ntelleth them that every day they see a new one there not less rich than\nis this one.  King Arthur looketh at the sepulchre and saith that never\ntofore hath he seen none so costly.  A smell issueth therefrom full\ndelicate and sweet of savour.  The King sojourneth in the castle and is\nhighly honoured, and beholdeth the richesse and the lordship and the\ngreat abundance that is everywhere in the castle, insomuch that therein\nis nought wanting that is needful for the bodies of noble folk.\nPerceval had made set the bodies of the dead knights in a charnel\nbeside an old chapel in the forest, and the body of his uncle that had\nslain himself so evilly.  Behind the castle was a river, as the history\ntestifieth, whereby all good things came to the castle, and this river\nwas right fair and plenteous. Josephus witnesseth us that it came from\nthe Earthly Paradise and compassed the castle around and ran on through\nthe forest as far as the house of a worshipful hermit, and there lost\nthe course and had peace in the earth.  All along the valley thereof\nwas great plenty of everything continually, and nought was ever lacking\nin the rich castle that Perceval had won.  The castle, so saith the\nhistory, had three names.\n\n\nII.\n\nOne of the names was Eden, the second, Castle of Joy, and the third,\nCastle of Souls.  Now Josephus saith that none never passed away\ntherein but his soul went to Paradise.  King Arthur was one day at the\ncastle windows with Messire Gawain.  The King seeth coming before him\nbeyond the bridge a great procession of folk one before another; and he\nthat came before was all clad in white, and bare a full great cross,\nand each of the others a little one, and the more part came singing\nwith sweet voices and bear candles burning, and there was one behind\nthat carried a bell with the clapper and all at his neck.\n\n\n\"Ha, God,\" saith King Arthur, \"What folk be these?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"I know them all save the last.  They be hermits\nof this forest, that come to chant within yonder before the Holy Graal,\nthree days in the week.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nWhen the hermits came nigh the castle, the King went to meet them, and\nthe knights adore the crosses and bow their heads before the good men.\nAs soon as they were come into the holy chapel, they took the bell from\nthe last and smote thereon at the altar, and then set it on the ground,\nand then began they the service, most holy and most glorious.  The\nhistory witnesseth us that in the land of King Arthur at this time was\nthere not a single chalice.  The Graal appeared at the sacring of the\nmass, in five several manners that none ought not to tell, for the\nsecret things of the sacrament ought none to tell openly but he unto\nwhom God hath given it.  King Arthur beheld all the changes, the last\nwhereof was the change into a chalice.  And the hermit that chanted the\nmass found a brief under the corporal and declared the letters, to wit,\nthat our Lord God would that in such vessel should His body be\nsacrificed, and that it should be set upon record.  The history saith\nnot that there were no chalices elsewhere, but that in all Great\nBritain and in the whole kingdom was none.  King Arthur was right glad\nof this that he had seen, and had in remembrance the name and the\nfashion of the most holy chalice.  Then he asked the hermit that bare\nthe bell, whence this thing came?\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he to Messire Gawain, \"I am the King for whom you slew the\ngiant, whereby you had the sword wherewith St John was beheaded, that I\nsee on this altar.  I made baptize me before you and all those of my\nkingdom, and turn to the New Law, and thereafter I went to a hermitage\nby the sea, far from folk, where I have been of a long space.  I rose\none night at matins and looked under my hermitage and saw that a ship\nhad taken haven there.  I went thither when the sea was retreated, and\nfound within the ship three priests and their clerks, that told me\ntheir names and how they were called in baptism.  All three were named\nGregory, and they came from the Land of Promise, and told me that\nSolomon had cast three bells, one for the Saviour of the World, and one\nfor His sweet Mother, and one for the honour of His saints, wherefore\nthey had brought this hither by His commandment into this kingdom for\nthat we had none here.  They told me that and I should bear it into\nthis castle, they would take all my sins upon themselves, by Our Lord's\npleasure, in such sort as that I should be quit thereof.  And I in like\nmanner have brought it hither by the commandment of God, who willeth\nthat this should be the pattern of all those that shall be fashioned in\nthe realm of this island where never aforetime have been none.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Messire Gawain to the hermit, \"I know you right\nwell for a worshipful man, for you held your covenant truly with me.\"\n\nKing Arthur was right glad of this thing, as were all they that were\nwithin.  It seemed him that the noise thereof was like the noise that\nhe had heard sound ever since he had moved from Cardoil.  The hermits\nwent their way each to his hermitage when they had done the service.\n\n\nIV.\n\nOne day, as the King sate at meat in the hall with Perceval and Messire\nGawain and the ancient knights, behold you therewithal one of the three\nDamsels of the Car that cometh, and she was smitten all through her\nright arm.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she to Perceval, \"Have mercy on your mother and your\nsister and on us.  Aristor of Moraine, that is cousin to the Lord of\nthe Moors that you slew, warreth upon your mother, and hath carried off\nyour sister by force into the castle of a vavasour of his, and saith\nthat he will take her to wife and will have all her land that your\nmother ought to hold of right, maugre your head.  But never had knight\ncustom so cruel as he, for when he shall have espoused the damsel,\nwhomsoever she may be, yet will he never love her so well but that he\nshall cut off her head with his own hand, and so thereafter go seek for\nanother to slay in like manner.  Natheless in one matter hath he good\ncustom, that never will he do shame to none until such time as he hath\nespoused her.  Sir, I was with my Lady your sister when he maimed me in\nthis manner.  Wherefore your mother sendeth you word and prayeth you\nthat you succour her, for you held her in covenant that so you would do\nand she should have need thereof and you should know it; for and you\nconsent to her injury and loss, the shame will be your own.\"\n\nPerceval heard these tidings, and sore sorrowful was he thereof.\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the King to Perceval, \"I and my nephew, so please\nyou, will go to help you.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Gramercy, but go and achieve your own affair also,\nfor sore need have you thereof; wherefore I pray and beseech you that\nyou be guardian of the castle of Camelot, if that my lady mother shall\ncome thither, for thereof make I you lord and champion, and albeit the\ncastle be far away from you, yet garnish it and guard it, for it is\nbuilded in a place right fair.\"\n\n\nV.\n\nLords, think not that it is this Camelot whereof these tellers of tales\ndo tell their tales, there, where King Arthur so often held his court.\nThis Camelot that was the Widow Lady's stood upon the uttermost\nheadland of the wildest isle of Wales by the sea to the West.  Nought\nwas there save the hold and the forest and the waters that were round\nabout it.  The other Camelot, of King Arthur's, was situate at the\nentrance of the kingdom of Logres, and was peopled of folk and was\nseated at the head of the King's land, for that he had in his\ngovernance all the lands that on that side marched with his own.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XXIII.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nOf Perceval the story is here silent, and saith that King Arthur and\nMessire Gawain have taken leave of Perceval and all them of the castle.\nThe King leaveth him the good destrier that he won, with the golden\ncrown.  They have ridden, he and Messire Gawain together, until they\nare come to a waste ancient castle that stood in a forest.  The castle\nwould have been right fair and rich had any folk wonned therein, but\nnone there were save one old priest and his clerk that lived within by\ntheir own toil. The King and Messire Gawain lodged there the night, and\non the morrow went into a right rich chapel that was therein to hear\nmass, and it was painted all around of right rich colours of gold and\nazure and other colours.  The images were right fair that were there\npainted, and the Figures of them for whom the images were made.  The\nKing and Messire Gawain looked at them gladly. When the mass was said,\nthe priest cometh to them and saith: \"Lords,\" saith he, \"These imagings\nare right fair, and he that had them made is full loyal, and dearly\nloved the lady and her son for whom he had them made.  Sir,\" saith the\npriest, \"It is a true history.\"\n\n\"Of whom is the history, fair Sir?\" saith King Arthur.\n\n\"Of a worshipful vavasour that owned this hold, and of Messire Gawain,\nKing Arthur's nephew, and his mother. Sir,\" saith the priest, \"Messire\nGawain was born there within and held up and baptized, as you may see\nhere imaged, and he was named Gawain for the sake of the lord of this\ncastle that had that name.  His mother, that had him by King Lot, would\nnot that it should be known.  She set him in a right fair coffer, and\nprayed the good man of this castle that he would carry him away and\nleave him where he might perish, but and if he would not do so, she\nwould make another do it.  This Gawain, that was loyal and would not\nthat the child should be put to death, made seal letters at the\npillow-bere of his cradle that he was of lineage royal on the one side\nand the other, and set therein gold and silver so as that the child\nmight be nurtured in great plenty, and spread above the child a right\nrich coverlid.  He carried him away to a far distant country, and so\ncame one early morning to a little homestead where dwelt a right\nworshipful man.  He delivered the child to him and his wife, and bade\nthem they should keep him and nurture him well, and told them that it\nmight be much good should come to them thereof.  The vavasour turned\nhim back, and they took charge of the child and nurtured him until that\nhe were grown, and then took him to Rome to the Holy Father, and showed\nhim the sealed letters.  The Holy Father saw them and understood that\nhe was the son of a King.  He had pity upon him, and gave him to\nunderstand that he was of his kindred.  After that, he was elected to\nbe Emperor of Rome.  But he would not be Emperor lest he should be\nreproached of his birth that had before been concealed from him.  He\ndeparted thence, and lived afterwards within yonder.  Now is it said\nthat he is one of the best knights in the world, insomuch that none\ndurst take possession of this castle for dread of him, nor of this\ngreat forest that lieth round about it.  For, when the vavasour that\ndwelt here was dead, he left to Messire Gawain, his foster-son, this\ncastle, and made me guardian thereof until such time as Messire Gawain\nshould return.\"\n\n\nII.\n\nThe King looketh at Messire Gawain, and seeth him stoop his head toward\nthe ground for shame.\n\n\"Fair nephew, be not ashamed, for as well might you reproach me of the\nsame.  Of your birth hath there been great joy, and dearly ought one to\nlove the place and honour it, where so good a knight as are you was\nborn.\"\n\nWhen the priest understood that it was Messire Gawain, he made great\ncheer to him, and was all ashamed of that he had recorded as concerning\nhis birth.  But he saith to him: \"Sir, small blame ought you to have\nherein, for you were confirmed in the law that God hath established and\nin loyalty of marriage of King Lot and your mother.  This thing King\nArthur well knoweth, and our Lord God be praised for that, you have\ncome hither!\"\n\n\n\nBRANCH XXIV.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nHere the story is silent of the kingdom, and of King Arthur and Messire\nGawain that remain in the castle to maintain and guard it until they\nshall have garnished it of folk.  Here speaketh it word of the knight's\nson of the Waste Manor, there whither the brachet led Messire Gawain\nwhere he found the knight that Lancelot had slain.  He had one son\nwhose name was Meliant, and he had not forgotten his father's death;\nrather, thereof did wrath rankle in his heart.  He heard tell that\nBriant of the Isles had great force and great puissance, and that he\nwarred upon King Arthur's land, insomuch as that he had already slain\nmany of his knights.  Thitherward goeth he, and is come to where Briant\nwas in a castle of his own.  He telleth him how Lancelot had slain his\nfather in such sort, and prayeth him right courteously that he would\nmake him knight, for that right fain would he avenge his father, and\ntherefore would he help him in the war the best he might.  Briant made\nmuch joy thereof, and made him knight in right costly sort, and he was\nthe comeliest knight and the most valiant of his age in Briant's court,\nand greatly did he desire to meet with Lancelot.  They marvelled much\nin the land and kingdom what had become of him.  The more part thought\nthat he was dead, albeit dead he was not, but rather sound and hale and\nwhole, had it not been for the death of Queen Guenievre, whereof the\nsorrow so lay at his heart that he might not forget it.  He rode one\nday amidst a forest, and overtook a knight and a damsel that made great\njoy together, singing and making disport.\n\n\"By God,\" saith the damsel, \"If this knight that cometh here will\nremain, he shall have right good lodging.  It is already nigh eventide,\nand never will he find hostel so good to-day.\"\n\n\"Damsel.\" saith Lancelot, \"Of good hostel have I sore need, for I am\nmore than enough weary.\"\n\n\"So be all they,\" saith she, \"that come from the land of the rich King\nFisherman, for none may suffer the pain and travail and he be not good\nknight.\"\n\n\nII.\n\n\"Ah, damsel,\" saith Lancelot, \"Which is the way to the castle whereof\nyou speak?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"You will go by this cross that you see before\nyou, and we will go by that other way, to a certain hold. Haply we\nshall find you at the castle or ever you depart thence.\"\n\nLancelot goeth his way and leaveth them.\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the damsel to the knight, \"This that goeth there is\nLancelot.  He knoweth me not, albeit I know him well, and I hear that\nhe is sore troubled of his sorrow and mis-ease. Natheless, please God,\nI will have vengeance of him or ever he departeth from the castle\nwhither he goeth to harbour.  He made marry perforce a knight that\nloved me better than aught beside, and to a damsel that he loved not a\nwhit.  And so much might he still better perceive when he saw that she\nate not at his table, but was seated along with the squires, and that\nnone did aught for her at the castle.  But the knight will not abandon\nher for his own honour, and for that I should be blamed thereof.\"\n\nThe evening draweth on and Lancelot goeth toward the castle, that was\nright uneath to find and in an unfrequented part.  He espieth it at the\nhead of the forest, and seeth that it is large and strong, with strong\nbarbicans embattelled, and at the entrance of the gateway were fifteen\nheads of knights hanging.  He found without a knight that came from the\nforest, and asked him what castle it was, and he made answer that it\nwas called the Castle of the Griffon.\n\n\"And why are these heads hanging at this door?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"The daughter of the lord of the castle is the fairest\nin the world and that is known in any kingdom, and needs must she be\noffered to wife to all knights that harbour within. He that can draw a\nsword that is fixed in a column in the midst of the hall, and fetch it\nforth, he shall have her of right without forfeit.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\n\"All these have made assay whose heads you see hanging at the door, but\nnever might none of them remove the sword, and on this occasion were\nthey beheaded.  Now is it said that none may draw it forth, unless he\nthat draweth be better knight than another, and needs must he be one of\nthem that have been at the Graal. But, and you be minded to believe me,\nfair Sir,\" saith the knight, \"You will go elsewhither, for ill lodging\nis it in a place where one must needs set body and life in adventure of\ndeath, and none ought to be blamed for escaping from his own harm.\nSir, the castle is right fell, for it hath underground, at the issue of\na cavern that is there, a lion and a griffon that have devoured more\nthan half a hundred knights.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"It is evening, nor know I how I may go farther\nthis day, for I know not whither I go sith that I know not the places\nnor the ways of the forest.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"I speak only for your own good, and God grant\nyou depart hence, honour safe.\"\n\nLancelot findeth the door of the castle all open, and entereth in all\narmed, and alighteth before the master-hall.  The King was leaning at\nthe windows, and biddeth stall his horse.\n\n\nIV.\n\nLancelot is entered into the hall, and findeth knights and damsels at\nthe tables and playing at the chess, but none did he find to salute him\nnor make him cheer of his coming save the lord only, for such was the\ncustom of the castle.  The lord bade him be disarmed.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Right well may you allow me wear my arms, for they be\nthe fairest garniture and the richest I have.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the lord of the castle, \"No knight eateth armed within\nyonder, but he that cometh armed in hither disarmeth himself by my\nleave.  He may take his arms again without gainsay, so neither I nor\nother desire to do him a hurt.\"\n\nWith that two squires disarm him.  The lord of the Castle maketh bring\na right rich robe wherein to apparel him.  The tables were set and the\nmeats served.  The damsel issued forth of her chamber and was\naccompanied of two knights as far as the hall.  She looketh at\nLancelot, and seeth that he is a right comely knight, and much liketh\nher of his bearing and countenance, and she thinketh to herself that\nsore pity would it be so comely knight should have his head smitten off.\n\n\nV.\n\nLancelot saluted the damsel and made great cheer, and when they had\neaten in hall, forthwith behold you, the damsel where she cometh that\nLancelot overtook in the forest with the knight.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she to the lord of the castle, \"You have harboured this\nnight your deadly enemy that slew your brother at the Waste Manor.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith the lord of the manor, \"I think not so, for him\nwould I not have harboured, nor will I not believe it for true until\nsuch time as I have proved it. Sir,\" saith he to Lancelot, \"Make the\ndemand that the others make!\"\n\n\"What is it?\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"See there my daughter!  Ask her of me, and if you be such as you ought\nto be, I will give her to you.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"No knight is there in the world so good but\nought to plume him upon having her to wife, so always she were willing,\nand, so I thought that you would be willing to give her to me, I would\nwillingly ask you.\"\n\nLancelot spake otherwise than as he thought, for the departing of the\nQueen and the sorrow thereof lay so at his heart that never again might\nhe lean upon any love in the world, neither of dame nor damsel.  He\nasked his daughter of the knight of the castle, and came before him to\nsave the custom so that he might not have blame thereof.  And he showed\nhim the sword that is in the column, all inlaid with gold.\n\n\"Go,\" saith he, \"and fulfil the custom, as other knights have done.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"They might not draw forth the sword from this column, and so failed of\nmy daughter and of their lives.\"\n\n\"Lord God,\" saith Lancelot, \"Defend me from this custom!\"\n\nAnd he cometh toward the column as fast as he may, and seizeth the\nsword with both hands.  So soon as he touched it, the sword draweth it\nforth with such a wrench that the column quaked thereof.  The damsel\nwas right joyful thereat, albeit she misdoubted the fellness and\ncruelty of her father, for never yet had she seen knight that pleased\nher so much to love as he.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the other damsel, \"I tell you plainly, this is Lancelot,\nthe outrageous, that slew your brother.  Natheless, is it no lie that\nhe is one of the best knights of the world, albeit by the stoutness of\nhis knighthood and his valour many an outrage hath he done, and more\nshall he yet do and he escape you, and, so you will believe me, you\nwill never allow him to depart thus; sith that and you kill him or slay\nhim you will save the life of many a knight.\"\n\nThe daughter of the lord of the castle is sore displeased of the damsel\nfor this that she saith, and looketh at Lancelot from time to time and\nsigheth, but more durst she not do.  Much marvelleth she, sith that\nLancelot hath drawn the sword forth of the column, that he asketh her\nnot of her father as his own liege woman, but he was thinking of\nanother thing, and never was he so sorrowful of any lady as he was for\nthe Queen.  But whatsoever thought or desire he may have therein, he\ntelleth the lord of the castle that he holdeth him to his covenant made\nat such time as the sword was still fixed in the column.\n\n\"I have a right not to hold thereto,\" saith the lord of the castle,\n\"Nor shall I break not my vow and I fail you herein; for no man is\nbound to give his daughter to his mortal enemy.  Sith that you have\nslain my brother, you are my mortal enemy, and were I to give her to\nyou, she ought not to wish it, and were she to grant you her love she\nwould be a fool and a madwoman.\"\n\nRight sorrowful is the damsel or this that she heareth her father say.\nShe would fain that Lancelot and she were in the forest, right in the\ndepth thereof.  But Lancelot had no mind to be as she was thinking.\nThe lord of the castle made guard the gateway of the castle well, in\nsuch sort that Lancelot might issue therefrom on no side.  Afterward he\nbade his knights privily that they take heed on their lives that they\nbe all ready on the morrow and all garnished of their arms, for that it\nwas his purpose to smite off Lancelot's head and hang it above all the\nothers.\n\n\nVI.\n\nThe daughter of the lord knew these tidings and was right sorrowful\nthereof, for she thinketh never more to have joy at heart and he shall\nbe slain in such manner.  She sendeth him greeting by her own privy\nmessenger, as she that loveth him better than aught else living in the\nworld, and so biddeth and prayeth him be garnished of his arms, and\nready to protect his life, for that her father is fain to smite off his\nhead.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the messenger, \"Your force would avail you nought as\nagainst my lord, for to-morrow there will be a dozen knights all armed\nat the issue of the gate whereby you entered to-night, and he saith\nthat he purposeth to cut off your head there where he cut the heads off\nthe other knights.  Without the gate there will likewise be another\ndozen knights all armed.  No knight is there in the world so good as\nthat he might issue forth of this castle through the midst of these\nfour and twenty knights, but my lady sendeth you word that there is a\ncavern under this castle that goeth therefrom underground as far as the\nforest, so that a knight may well pass thereby all armed, but there is\ntherein a lion, the fiercest and most horrible in the world, and two\nserpents that are called griffons, that have the face of a man and the\nbeaks of birds and eyes of an owl and teeth of a dog and ears of an ass\nand feet of a lion and tail of a serpent, and they have couched them\ntherewithin, but never saw no man beasts so fell and felonous.\nWherefore the damsel biddeth you go by that way, by everything that you\nhave ever loved, and that you fail her not, for she would fain speak\nwith you at the issue of the cavern in an orchard that is nigh a right\nbroad river not far from this castle, and will make your destrier be\nbrought after you underground.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Lancelot, \"And she had not conjured me in such\nsort, and were it not for love of herself, I would have rather set\nmyself in hazard with the knights than with the wild beasts, for far\nfather would I have delivered myself from them, and so I might, than go\nforth in such-wise.\"\n\n\"She sendeth you word,\" saith the messenger, \"that so you do not thus,\nno further trouble will she take concerning you.  She doth it of dread\nlest she lose your love; and here behold a brachet that she sendeth you\nby me that you will carry with you into the cavern.  So soon as you\nshalt see the serpent griffons that have couched them therein, you\nshall show them this and cast her down before them.  The griffons love\nher as much as one beast may love another, and shall have such joy and\nsuch desire to play with the brachet that they will leave you alone,\nand have such good will toward you that they will not look at you after\nto do you any hurt.  But no man is there in the world, no matter how\nwell soever he were armed, nor how puissant soever he were in himself,\nmight never pass them otherwise, but he should be devoured of them.\nBut no safeguard may you have as against the lion but of God only and\nyour own hardiment.\"\n\n\"Tell my damsel,\" saith Lancelot, \"that all her commandment will I do,\nbut this cowardize resembleth none other, that I shall go fight with\nbeasts and leave to do battle with knights.\"\n\nThis was then repeated to the damsel, that marvelled her much thereat,\nand said that he was the hardiest knight in the world.\n\n\nVII.\n\nLancelot armed him toward daybreak, and had his sword girt, his shield\nat his neck, and his spear in his hand.  So he entered into the cavern,\nall shamefast, and the brachet followeth after, that he deigned not to\ncarry, and so cometh he to the place where the griffons were.  So soon\nas they heard him coming they dress them on their feet, and then writhe\nalong as serpents, then cast forth such fire, and so bright a flame\namidst the rock, as that all the cavern is lighted up thereof, and they\nsee by the brightness of light of their jaws the brachet coming.  So\nsoon as they have espied her, they carry her in their claws and make\nher the greatest cheer in the world.  Lancelot passeth beyond without\ngainsay, and espieth, toward the issue of the cavern, the lion that was\ncome from the forest all famished.  He cometh thither right hardily,\nsword drawn.  The lion cometh toward him, jaws yawning, and claws\nbared, thinking to fix them in his habergeon, but Lancelot preventeth\nhim and smiteth him so stoutly that he cutteth off thigh and leg\ntogether.  When the lion feeleth himself thus maimed, he seizeth him by\nthe teeth and the claws of his fore feet and rendeth away half the\nskirt of his habergeon. Thereupon Lancelot waxeth wroth.  He casteth\nhis shield to the ground and approacheth the lion closer.  He seeth\nthat he openeth his jaws wide to avenge himself, and thrusteth his\nsword the straightest he may into his gullet, and the lion giveth out a\nroar and falleth dead.  The damsel, that had come into the cavern,\nheareth that the lion is dead.\n\n\nVIII.\n\nLancelot issued forth and so cometh into the orchard beside the forest,\nand wiped his sword on the freshness of the green grass. Thereupon\nbehold you the damsel that cometh.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she to Lancelot, \"Are you wounded in any place?\"\n\n\"Damsel, nowhere, thank God!\"\n\nAnother damsel leadeth a horse into the orchard.  The damsel of the\ncastle looketh at Lancelot.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"Meseemeth that you are not over joyous.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"If I be not, I have good right, for I have lost\nthe thing in the world that most I loved.\"\n\n\"And you have won me,\" saith she, \"so you remain not here, that am the\nfairest damsel in this kingdom, and I have saved you your life for\nthis, that you grant me your love, for mine own would I fain give unto\nyou.\"\n\n\"Gramercy, damsel,\" saith Lancelot, \"Your love and your good will fain\nwould I have; but neither you nor none other damsel ought not to have\naffiance in me, and I might so soon set carelessly aside the love to\nwhom my heart owed its obedience, for the worthiness and the courtesy\nthat were lodged in her.  Nor never hereafter, so long as I live, shall\nI love none other in like manner; wherefore all others commend I to\nGod, and to yourself, as for leave-taking to one at whose service I\nfain would be; I say that if you shall have need of me, and so I be in\nplace and free, I will do all I may to protect your honour.\"\n\n\nIX.\n\n\"Ha, God!\" saith the damsel, \"How am I betrayed, sith that I am parted\nfrom the best knight in the world!  Lancelot, you have done that which\nnever yet no knight might do!  Now am I grieved that you should escape\non such wise, and that your life hath been saved in this manner by me.\nBetter should I love you mine own dead, than another's living.  Now\nwould I fain that you had had your head smitten off, and that it were\nhanging with the others! So would I solace myself by beholding it!\"\n\nLancelot took no account of that he heard, for the grief that lay at\nhis heart of the Queen.  He mounteth on his horse and issueth forth of\nthe orchard by a postern gate, and entereth into the forest, and\ncommendeth him to God.  The lord of the Castle of the Griffons\nmarvelleth much that Lancelot delayeth so long.  He thinketh that he\ndurst not come down, and saith to his knights, \"Let us go up and cut\noff his head, sith that he durst not come down.\"\n\nHe maketh search for him all through the hall and the chambers, but\nfindeth him not.\n\n\"He hath gone,\" saith he, \"through the cavern, so have the griffons\ndevoured him.\"\n\nSo he sendeth the twain most hardy of his knights to see.  But the\nbrachet had returned after the damsel, whereof the griffons were wroth,\nand they forthwith seized on the two knights that entered into their\ncavern and slew them and devoured.\n\n\nX.\n\nWhen the lord of the castle knew it, he went into the chamber where his\ndaughter was, and found her weeping, and thinketh that it is for the\ntwo knights that are dead.  News is brought him that the lion is dead\nat the issue of the cavern, and thereby well knoweth he that Lancelot\nis gone.  He biddeth his knights follow after him, but none was there\nso hardy as that he durst follow.  The damsel was right fain they\nshould go after him, if only they might bring him back to the castle,\nfor so mortally was she taken of his love that she thought of none\nother thing.  But Lancelot had her not in remembrance, but only\nanother, and rode on sadly right amidst the forest, and looked from\ntime to time at the rent the lion had made in his habergeon.  He rideth\nuntil he is come toward evening to a great valley where was forest on\nthe one side and the other, and the valley stretched onward half a\nscore great leagues Welsh.  He looketh to the right, and on the top of\nthe mountain beside the valley he seeth a chapel newly builded that was\nright fair and rich, and it was covered of lead, and had at the back\ntwo quoins that seemed to be of gold.  By the side of this chapel were\nthree houses dight right richly, each standing by itself facing the\nchapel.  There was a right fair grave-yard round about the chapel, that\nwas enclosed at the compass of the forest, and a spring came down, full\nclear, from the heights of the forest before the chapel and ran into\nthe valley with a great rushing; and each of the houses had its own\norchard, and the orchard an enclosure.  Lancelot heareth vespers being\nchanted in the chapel, and seeth the path that turned thitherward, but\nthe mountain is so rugged that he could not go along it on horseback.\nSo he alighteth and leadeth his horse after him by the reins until he\ncometh nigh the chapel.\n\n\nXI.\n\nThere were three hermits therewithin that had sung their vespers, and\ncame over against Lancelot.  They bowed their heads to him and he\nsaluted them, and then asked of them what place was this? And they told\nhim that the place there was Avalon.  They make stable his horse.  He\nleft his arms without the chapel and entereth therein, and saith that\nnever hath he seen none so fair nor so rich.  There were within three\nother places, right fair and seemly dight of rich cloths of silk and\nrich corners and fringes of gold.  He seeth the images and the\ncrucifixes all newly fashioned, and the chapel illumined of rich\ncolours; and moreover in the midst thereof were two coffins, one\nagainst the other, and at the four corners four tall wax tapers\nburning, that were right rich, in four right rich candlesticks.  The\ncoffins were covered with two pails, and there were clerks that chanted\npsalms in turn on the one side and the other.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot to one of the hermits, \"For whom were these\ncoffins made?\"\n\n\"For King Arthur and Queen Guenievre.\"\n\n\"King Arthur is not yet dead,\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"No, in truth, please God!  but the body of the Queen lieth in the\ncoffin before us and in the other is the head of her son, until such\ntime as the King shall be ended, unto whom God grant long life!  But\nthe Queen bade at her death that his body should be set beside her own\nwhen he shall end.  Hereof have we the letters and her seal in this\nchapel, and this place made she be builded new on this wise or ever she\ndied.\"\n\n\nXI.\n\nWhen Lancelot heareth that it is the Queen that lieth in the coffin, he\nis so straitened in his heart and in his speech that never a word may\nhe say.  But no semblant of grief durst he make other than such as\nmight not be perceived, and right great comfort to him was it that\nthere was an image of Our Lady at the head of the coffin.  He knelt\ndown the nighest he might to the coffin, as it had been to worship the\nimage, and set his race and his mouth to the stone of the coffin, and\nsorroweth for her right sweetly.\n\n\"Ha, Lady,\" saith he, \"But that I dread the blame of the people, never\nagain would I seek to depart from this place, but here would I save my\nsoul and pray for yours; so would it be much recomforting to me that I\nshould be so nigh, and should see the sepulchre wherein your body lieth\nthat had so great sweetness and bounty.  God grant me of your pleasure,\nthat at my death I may still be a-nigh, and that I may die in such\nmanner and in such place as that I may be shrouded and buried in this\nholy chapel where this body lieth.\"\n\nThe night cometh on.  A clerk cometh to the hermits and saith, \"Never\nyet did no knight cry mercy of God so sweetly, nor of His sweet Mother,\nas did this knight that is in the chapel.\"\n\nAnd the hermits make answer that knights for the most part do well\nbelieve in God.  They come to the chapel for him and bid him come\nthence, for that meat is ready and he should come to eat, and after\nthat go to sleep and rest, for it is full time so to do.  He telleth\nthem that as for his eating this day it is stark nought, for a desire\nand a will hath taken him to keep vigil in the chapel before one of the\nimages of Our Lady.  No wish had he once to depart thence before the\nday, and he would fain that the night should last far longer than it\ndid.  The good men durst not force him against his will; they say,\nrather, that the worshipful man is of good life who will keep watch in\nsuch manner throughout the night without drink or meat, for all that he\nseemeth to be right weary.\n\n\nXIII.\n\nLancelot was in the chapel until the morrow before the tomb.  The\nhermits apparelled them to do the service that they chanted each day,\nmass for the soul of the Queen and her son.  Lancelot heareth them with\nright good will.  When the masses were sung, he taketh leave of the\nhermits and looketh at the coffin right tenderly.  He commendeth the\nbody that lieth therein to God and His sweet Mother; then findeth he\nwithout the chapel his horse accoutred ready, and mounteth forthwith,\nand departeth, and looketh at the place and the chapel so long as he\nmay see them. He hath ridden so far that he is come nigh Cardoil, and\nfindeth the land wasted and desolate, and the towns burnt, whereof is\nhe sore grieved.  He meeteth a knight that came from that part, and he\nwas wounded full sore.  Lancelot asketh him whence he cometh, and he\nsaith, \"Sir, from towards Cardoil.  Kay the Seneschal, with two other\nknights, is leading away Messire Ywain li Aoutres toward the castle of\nthe Hard Rock.  I thought to help to rescue him, but they have wounded\nme in such sort as you see.\"\n\n\"Are they ever so far away?\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"Sir, they will pass just now at the head of this forest; and so you\nare fain to go thither, I will return with you right willingly and help\nyou to the best I may.\"\n\nLancelot smiteth his horse with the spurs forthwith, and the knight\nafter him, and espieth Kay the Seneschal, that was bringing Messire\nYwain along at a great pace, and had set him upon a trotting hackney,\nfor so he thought that none would know him.  Lancelot overtaketh him\nand crieth, \"By my head, Kay the Seneschal, shame had you enough of\nthat you did to King Arthur when you slew his son, and as much more\nought you now to have of thus warring upon him again!\"\n\nHe smiteth his horse of his spurs, lance in rest, and Kay the Seneschal\nturneth toward him, and they mell together with their spears on their\nshields, and pierce them in such sort that an ells-length of each shaft\npasseth through beyond.\n\n\nXIV.\n\nThe lances were strong so as that they brast not.  They draw them back\nto themselves so stoutly and come together so fiercely that their\nhorses stagger and they lose the stirrups.  Lancelot catcheth Kay the\nSeneschal at the passing beyond, in the midst of the breast, and\nthrusteth his spear into him so far that the point remained in the\nflesh, and Kay to-brast his own; and sore grieved was he when he felt\nhimself wounded.  The knight that was wounded overthrew one of the two\nknights.  Kay is on the ground, and Lancelot taketh his horse and\nsetteth Messire Ywain li Aoutres thereupon, that was right sore wounded\nso as that he scarce might bear it.  Kay the Seneschal maketh his\nknight remount, and holdeth his sword grasped in his fist as though he\nhad been stark wood.  Lancelot seeth the two knights sore badly\nwounded, and thinketh that and he stay longer they may remain on the\nfield.  He maketh them go before him, and Kay the Seneschal followeth\nthem behind, himself the third knight, that is right wroth of the wound\nhe feeleth and the blood that he seeth. Lancelot bringeth off his\nknights like as the wild-boar goeth among the dogs, and Kay dealeth him\ngreat buffets of his sword when he may catch him, and Lancelot him\nagain, and so they depart, fencing in such sort.\n\n\nXV.\n\nWhen Kay the Seneschal seeth that he may not harm him, he turneth him\nback, full of great wrath, and his heart pricketh to avenge him thereof\nand he may get at him, for he is the knight of the court that most he\nhateth.  He is come back to the Castle of the Hard Rock.  Briant of the\nIsles asketh him who hath wounded him in such sort, and he telleth him\nthat he was bringing thither Ywain li Aoutres when Lancelot rescued him.\n\n\"And the King,\" saith Briant, \"Is he repaired thither?\"\n\n\"I have heard no tidings of him at all,\" saith Kay, \"For no leisure had\nI to ask of any.\"\n\nBriant and his knights take much thought as concerning Lancelot's\ncoming, for they are well persuaded that Lancelot hath come for that\nthe King is dead and Messire Gawain, whereof they make right great joy.\nKay the Seneschal maketh him be disarmed and his wound searched.  They\ntell him he need not fear it shall be his death, but that he is right\nsore wounded.\n\n\nXVI.\n\nLancelot is entered into the castle of Cardoil, and his wounded knights\nwithal, and findeth the folk in sore dismay.  Great dole make they in\nmany places and much lamentation for King Arthur, and say that now\nnevermore may they look for succeur to none, and he be dead and Messire\nGawain.  But they give Lancelot joy of that he hath rescued Messire\nYwain li Aoutres, and were so somewhat comforted and made great cheer.\nThe tidings thereof came to the knights that were in the castle, and\nthey all come forward to meet him save they that were wounded, and so\nled him up to the castle, and Messire Ywain with him and the other\nknight that was wounded.  All the knights of the castle were right\nglad, and ask him tidings of King Arthur, and whether he were dead or\nno.  And Lancelot telleth them that he was departed from him at the\nPalace Meadow, where he won the white destrier and the crown of gold\nthere where the tidings were brought to him that Queen Guinievre was\ndead.\n\n\nXVII.\n\n\"Then you tell us of a truth that the King is on live, and Messire\nGawain?\"\n\n\"Both, you may be certain!\" saith Lancelot.\n\nThereupon were they gladder than before.  They told him of their own\nmischance, how Briant of the Isles had put them to the worse, and how\nKay the Seneschal was with him to do them hurt.  For he it is that\ntaketh most pains to do them evil.\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Lancelot, \"Kay the Seneschal ought of right to take\nheed and with-hold him from doing you ill, but he departed from the\nfield with the point of my spear in him when I rescued Messire Ywain.\"\n\n\nXVIII.\n\nThe knights are much comforted of the coming of Lancelot, but he is\nmuch grieved that he findeth so many of them wounded.  Meliant of the\nWaste Manor is at the castle of the Hard Rock, and good fellow is it\nbetwixt him and Kay the Seneschal.  He is right glad of the tidings he\nhath heard, that Lancelot is come, and saith that he is the knight of\nthe world that most he hateth, and that he will avenge him of his\nfather and he may meet him.  There come before the castle of Cardoil\none day threescore knights armed, and they seize upon their booty\nbetwixt the castle and the forest.  Lancelot issueth forth all armed,\nand seven of the best of the castle with him.  He cometh upon them\nafter that they have led away their plunder.  He overtaketh one knight\nand smiteth him with his spear right through the body, and the other\nknights make an onset upon the others and many to-brake their spears,\nand much clashing was there of steel on armour; and there fell at the\nassembly on one side and the other full a score knights, whereof some\nwere wounded right sore.  Meliant of the Waste Manor espied Lancelot,\nand right great joy made he of seeing him, and smiteth him so stout a\nbuffet on the shield that he to-breaketh his spear.\n\n\nXIX.\n\nLancelot smiteth him amidst the breast so grimly that he maketh him\nbend backwards over the saddle behind, and so beareth him to the\nground, legs uppermost, over his horse's croup, and trampleth him under\nhis horse's feet.  Lancelot was minded to alight to the ground to take\nhim, but Briant of the Isles cometh and maketh him mount again\nperforce.  The numbers grew on the one side and the other of knights\nthat came from Cardoil and from the Hard Rock. Right great was the\nfrushing of lances and the clashing of swords and the overthrow of\nhorses and knights.  Briant of the Isles and Lancelot come against each\nother so stoutly that they pierce their shields and cleave their\nhabergeons, and they thrust with their spears so that the flesh is\nbroken under the ribs and the shafts are all-to-splintered.  They\nhurtle against each other so grimly at the by-passing that their eyes\nsparkle as it were of stars in their heads, and the horses stagger\nunder them.  They hold their swords drawn, and so return the one toward\nthe other like lions.  Such buffets deal they upon their helms that\nthey beat them in and make the fire leap out by the force of the\nsmiting of iron by steel. And Meliant cometh all armed toward Lancelot\nto aid Briant of the Isles, but Lucan the Butler cometh to meet him,\nand smiteth him with his spear so stoutly that he thrusteth it right\nthrough his shield and twisteth his arm gainst his side.  He breaketh\nhis spear at the by-passing, and Meliant also breaketh his, but he was\nwounded passing sore.\n\n\nXX.\n\nThereupon he seizeth him by the bridle and thinketh to lead him away,\nbut the knights and the force of Briant rescue him.  The clashing of\narms lasted great space betwixt Briant of the Isles and Lancelot, and\neach was mightily wrath for that each was wounded.  Either seized other\nmany times by the bridle, and each was right fain to lead the other to\nhis own hold, but the force of knights on the one side and the other\ndisparted them asunder. Thus the stour lasted until evening, until that\nthe night sundered them.  But Briant had nought to boast of at\ndeparting, for Lancelot and his men carried off four of his by force\nright sore wounded, besides them that remained dead on the field.\nBriant of the Isles and Meliant betook them back all sorrowful for\ntheir knights that are taken and dead.  Lancelot cometh back to\nCardoil, and they of the castle make him right great joy of the knights\nthat they bring taken, and say that the coming of the good knight\nLancelot should be great comfort to them until such time as King Arthur\nshould repair back and Messire Gawain.  The wounded knights that were\nin the castle turned to healing of their wounds, whereof was Lancelot\nright glad.  They were as many as five and thirty within the castle.\nOf all the King's knights were there no more save Lancelot and the\nwounded knight that he brought along with him.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XXV.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nHere the story is silent of Lancelot and the knights that are at\nCardoil, and saith that King Arthur and Messire Gawain are in the\ncastle where the priest told Messire Gawain how he was born.  But they\ncannot depart thence at their will, for Ahuret the Bastard that was\nbrother of Nabigant of the Rock, that Messire Gawain slew on account of\nMeliot of Logres, knoweth well that they are therewithin, and hath\nassembled his knights and holdeth them within so strait that they may\nnot depart without sore damage. For he hath on the outer side a full\ngreat plenty of knights, and the King and Messire Gawain have with them\nbut only five of the forest and the country that are upon their side,\nand they hold them so strait within that they may not issue out from\nthence; yea, the brother of Nabigant sweareth that they shall not\ndepart thence until such time as he shall have taken Messire Gawain,\nand taken vengeance on his fellow of his brother whom he slew.  The\nKing saith to Messire Gawain that he hath much shame of this that they\nare so long shut up therewithin, and that he better loveth to die with\nhonour than to live with shame within the castle.  So they issued\nforth, spears in rest, and Ahuret and his knights, whereof was there\ngreat plenty, made much joy thereat.\n\n\nII.\n\nThe King and Messire Gawain strike among them, and each overthroweth\nhis man; but Ahuret hath great shame of this that he seeth his knights\nput to the worse by so few folk.  He setteth his spear in rest and\nsmiteth one of King Arthur's knights through the body and beareth him\ndown dead.  Then returneth he to Messire Gawain, and buffeteth him so\nstrongly that he pierceth his shield, but he maketh drop his own spear\nand loseth his stirrups, and Messire Gawain waxeth wroth and smiteth\nhim so grimly and with such force that he maketh him bend back over the\nhinder bow of his saddle.  But Ahuret was strong and of great might,\nand leapeth back between the bows and cometh toward King Arthur that he\nsaw before him, but he knew him not.  He left Messire Gawain, and the\nKing smiteth him with such a sweep that he cutteth off his arm, spear\nand all.  There was great force of knights, so that they ran upon them\non all sides; and never would they have departed thence sound and\nwhole, but that thereupon Meliot of Logres cometh thither with fifteen\nknights, for that he had heard tidings of Messire Gawain, how he was\nbesieged in a castle there, where he and King Arthur between them were\nin such plight that they had lost their five knights, so that they were\nnot but only two that defended themselves as best they might, as they\nthat had no thought but to remain there, for the odds of two knights\nagainst thirty was too great.\n\n\nIII.\n\nThereupon, behold you, Meliot of Logres with fifteen knights, and they\ncome thither where the King and Messire Gawain are in such jeopardy,\nand they strike so stoutly among them that they rescue King Arthur and\nMessire Gawain from them that had taken them by the bridle, and so slay\nfull as many as ten of them, and put the others to flight, and lead\naway their lord sore maimed. And Messire Gawain giveth Meliot much\nthanks of the bounty he hath done, whereby he hath saved them their\nlives; and he giveth him the castle, and is fain that he hold it of\nhim, for in no place might he have better employment, and that well\nhath he deserved it of his service in such need.  Meliot thanketh him\nmuch, and prayeth Messire Gawain instantly that and he shall have need\nof succour he will come to aid him, in like manner as he would do by\nhim everywhere.  And Messire Gawain telleth him that as of this needeth\nhim not to make prayer, for that he is one of the knights of the world\nthat most he ought of right to love.  The King and Messire Gawain take\nleave of Meliot, and so depart, and Meliot garnisheth the castle that\nwas right fair and rich and well-seated.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XXVI.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nOf Meliot the story is here silent, and saith that King Arthur and\nMessire Gawain have ridden so far that they are come into the Isle of\nAvalon, there where the Queen lieth.  They lodge the night with the\nhermits, that made them right great cheer.  But you may well say that\nthe King is no whit joyful when he seeth the coffin where the Queen\nlieth and that wherein the head of his son lieth.  Thereof is his dole\nrenewed, and he saith that this holy place of this holy chapel ought he\nof right to love better than all other places on earth.  They depart on\nthe morrow when they have heard mass.  The King goeth the quickest he\nmay toward Cardoil, and findeth the land wasted and desolate in many\nplaces, whereof is he right sorrowful, and understandeth that Kay the\nSeneschal warreth upon him with the others.  He marvelleth much how he\ndurst do it.  He is come to Cardoil.  When they of the castle know it\nthey come to meet him with right great cheer.  The tidings went\nthroughout all the land, and they of the country were right joyous\nthereof, for the more part believed that he was dead.  They of the\ncastle of the Hard Rock knew it, but little rejoiced they thereat.  But\nKay the Seneschal was whole of his wound and bethought him that great\nfolly would he do to remain longer there to war upon the King, for well\nknew he that and the King held him and did that which he had\nproclaimed, his end were come.  He departeth from the castle, where he\nhad sojourned of a long while, and crossed again stealthily over-sea,\nand came into Little Britain, and made fast a castle for fear of the\nKing, that is called Chinon, and was there long time, without the King\nwarring upon him, for enough adventures had he in other parts.\n\n\nII.\n\nTo Cardoil was the King repaired and Messire Gawain.  You may well\nunderstand that the land was much rejoiced thereof, and that all the\nknights were greatly comforted, and knights came back to the court from\nall parts.  They that had been wounded were whole again.  Briant of the\nIsles stinted not of his pride nor of his outrage, but rather stirred\nup the war the most he might, he and Meliant still more, and said that\nnever would he cease therefrom until death, nor never would he have\nrest until such time as he should have vengeance of Lancelot.  The King\nwas one day at Cardoil at meat, and there was in the hall great throng\nof knights, and Messire Gawain sate beside the King.  Lancelot sate at\nthe table, and Messire Ywain the son of King Urien, and Sagramors li\nDesirous, and Ywain li Aoutres, and many more other knights round about\nthe table, but there were not so many as there wont to be.  Messire\nLucan the Butler served before the King of the golden cup.  The King\nlooked round about the table and remembered him of the Queen.  He was\nbent upon thinking rather than on eating, and saw that his court was\nmuch wasted and worsened of her death.  And what time the King was\nmusing in such sort, behold you a knight come into the hall all armed\nbefore the King; and he leaneth on the staff of his spear.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"Listen, so please you, to me, and all these\nothers, listen!  Madeglant of Oriande sendeth me here to you, and\ncommandeth that you yield up the Table Round to him, for sith that the\nQueen is dead, you have no right thereof, for he is her next of kin and\nhe that hath the best right to have and to hold it; and, so you do not\nthis, you he defieth as the man that disinheriteth him, for he is your\nenemy in two manner of ways, for the Table Round that you hold by\nwrong, and for the New Law that you hold.  But he sendeth you word by\nme, that so you will renounce your belief and take Queen Jandree his\nsister, that he will cry you quit as of the Table Round and will be of\nyour aid everywhere.  But and if you do not this, have never affiance\nin him.  And so sendeth he word to you by me!\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nTherewith the knight departeth, and the King remaineth all heavy in\nthought, and when they had eaten, he rose from the tables and all the\nknights.  He speaketh to Messire Gawain and Lancelot, and taketh\ncounsel with all the others.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"You will defend yourself the best you\nmay, and we will help you to smite your enemies.  Great Britain is all\nat your will.  You have not as yet lost any castle.  Nought hath been\nbroken down nor burnt but open ground and cottages and houses, whereof\nis no great harm done to yourself, and the shame thereof may lightly be\namended.  King Madeglant is of great hardiment as of words, but in arms\nwill he not vanquish you so soon.  If that he warreth upon you toward\nthe West, send thither one of the best knights of your court that may\nmaintain the war and defend the land against him.\"\n\n\nIV.\n\nThe King sojourned at Cardoil of a long space.  He believed in God and\nHis sweet Mother right well.  He brought thither from the castle where\nthe Graal was the pattern whereby chalices should be made, and\ncommanded make them throughout all the land so as that the Saviour of\nthe world should be served more worshipfully.  He commanded also that\nbells be cast throughout his land after the fashion of the one he had\nbrought, and that each church should have one according to the means\nthereof.  This much pleased the people of his kingdom, for thereby was\nthe land somewhat amended. The tidings came to him one day that Briant\nand Meliant were riding through his land with great routs of folk, and\nwere minded to assiege Pannenoisance; and the King issued forth of\nCardoil with great throng of knights all armed, and rode until he\nespied Briant and his people, and Briant him again.  They ranged their\nbattles on both sides, and came together with such might and so great a\nshock as that it seemed the earth shook; and they melled together at\nthe assembly with their spears so passing grimly as that the frushing\nthereof might be heard right far away.  Some fourteen fell in the\nassembly that rose up again never more. Meliant of the Waste Manor\nsearcheth for Lancelot in the midst of the stour until he findeth him,\nand runneth upon him right sturdily and pierceth his shield with his\nspear.  Lancelot smiteth him such a sweep amidst the breast, that he\nthrusteth his spear right through his shoulder, and pinneth him so\nstrongly that the shaft is all to-brast, and the end thereof remaineth\nin his body.  And Meliant, all stricken through as he is, runneth upon\nhim and passeth his spear right through the shield and through the arm,\nin such sort that he pinneth it to his side.  He passeth beyond and\nbreaketh his spear, and afterward returneth to Lancelot, sword in fist,\nand dealeth him a buffet on the helm so grimly that he all to-battered\nit in.  Lancelot waxeth right wroth thereof, and he grieveth the more\nfor that he feeleth him wounded.  He cometh toward Meliant, sword\ndrawn, and holding him well under cover of his shield and cover of his\nhelm, and smiteth Meliant so fiercely that he cleaveth his shoulder\ndown to the rib in such sort that the end of the spear wherewith he had\npierced him fell out therefrom.  Meliant felt himself wounded to the\ndeath, and draweth him back all sorrowful, and other knights run upon\nLancelot and deliver assault.  Messire Ywain and Sagramors li Desirous\nand Messire Gawain were on the other side in great jeopardy, for the\npeople of Briant of the Isles came from all parts, and waxed more and\nmore, and on all sides the greater number of knights had the upper hand\ntherein.  King Arthur and Briant of the Isles were in the midst of the\nbattle, and dealt each other right great buffets.  Briant's people come\nthither and take King Arthur by the bridle, and the King defendeth\nhimself as a good knight, and maketh a ring about him amongst them that\nattack him, the same as doth a wild boar amongst the dogs. Messire\nYwain is come thither and Lucan the Butler, and break through the press\nby force.  Thereupon, behold you Sagramors li Desirous, that cometh as\nfast as his horse may gallop under him, and smiteth Briant of the Isles\nright before his people with such a rush that he beareth him to the\nground in a heap, both him and his horse. Briant to-brast his thigh\nbone in the fall that he made. Sagramors holdeth sword drawn and would\nfain have thrust it into his body, when the King crieth to him that he\nslay him not.\n\n\nV.\n\nBriant's people were not able to succour their lord.  Nay, rather, they\ndrew back on all sides, for the stout had lasted of a long space.  So\nthey tended the dead and the wounded, of whom were enough on one side\nand the other.  King Arthur made carry Briant of the Isles to Cardoil,\nand bring along the other knights that his own knights had taken.\nRight joyous were the folks at Cardoil when the King came back.  They\nbore Meliant of the Waste Manor on his shield to the Hard Rock, but he\nscarce lived after. The King made Briant of the Isles be healed, and\nheld him in prison of a long while, until Briant gave him surety of all\nhis lands and became his man.  The King made him Seneschal of all his\nlands, and Briant served him right well.\n\n\nVI.\n\nLancelot was whole of his wound, and all the knights of theirs. King\nArthur was safely stablished, and redoubted and dreaded of all lands\nand of his own land like as he wont to be.  Briant hath forgotten all\nthat is past, and is obedient to the King's commands and more privy is\nhe of his counsel than ever another of the knights, insomuch that he\nput the others somewhat back, whereof had they much misliking.  The\nfelony of Kay the Seneschal lay very nigh the King's heart, and he said\nthat and any would take vengeance upon him for the same, greatly would\nhe love him thereof, for so disloyally hath he wrought against him that\nhe durst not let the matter be slurred over; and a sore misfortune is\nit for the world when a man of so poor estate hath slain so high a man\nas his son for no misdeed, and that strangers ought by as good right as\nthey that knew him or himself take vengeance upon him thereof, so that\nothers might be adread of doing such disloyalty.\n\n\nVII.\n\nBriant was feared and redoubted throughout all Great Britain. King\nArthur had told them that they were all to be at his commandment.  And\none day while the King was at Cardoil, behold you a damsel that cometh\ninto the hail and saith unto him: \"Sir, Queen Jandree hath sent me over\nto you, and biddeth you do that whereof her brother sent you word by\nhis knight.  She is minded to be Lady and Queen of your land, and that\nyou take her to wife, for of high lineage is she and of great power,\nwherefore she biddeth you by me that you renounce the New Law and that\nyou believe in the God in whom she believeth, and, so you do not this,\nyou may not have affiance in your land, for King Madeglant hath as now\nmade ready his host to enter into the chief of your land, and hath\nsworn his oath that he will not end until he shall have passed all the\nborders of the isles that march upon your land, and shall come upon\nGreat Britain with all his strength, and so seize the Table Round that\nought to be his own of right. And my Lady herself would come hither but\nfor one thing, to wit, that she hath in her such disdain of them that\nbelieve in the New Law, that she deigneth not behold none of them, for,\nso soon as she was stablished Queen, made she her eyes be covered for\nthat she would not look upon none that were of that believe.  But the\nGods wherein she believeth did so much for her, for that she loveth and\nworshippeth them, that she may discover her eyes and her face, and yet\nsee not at all, whereof is she right glad, for that the eyes in her\nhead are beautiful and gentle.  But great affiance hath she in her\nbrother, that is mighty and puissant, for he hath her in covenant that\nhe will destroy all them that believe in the New Law, in all places\nwhere he may get at them, and, when he shall have destroyed them in\nGreat Britain and the other islands, so that my Lady might not see none\ntherein, so well is she with the Gods wherein she believeth, that she\nwill have her sight again all whole nor until that hour is she fain to\nsee nought.\"\n\n\nVIII.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"I have heard well that which you tell me of\nthis that you have in charge to say; but tell your Lady on my behalf,\nthat the Law which the Saviour of the world hath established by His\ndeath and by His crucifixion never will I renounce, for the love that I\nhave in Him.  But tell her that she believe in God and in His sweet\nMother, and that she believe in the New Law, for by the false believe\nwherein she abideth is she blinded in such sort, nor never will she see\nclear until she believe in God.  Tell her moreover, I send her word\nthat never more shall there be Queen in my land save she be of like\nworth as was Queen Guenievre.\"\n\n\"Then I tell you plainly,\" saith she, \"that you will have betimes such\ntidings as that good for you they will not be.\"\n\nThe damsel departeth from Cardoil, and cometh back to where the Queen\nwas, and telleth her the message King Arthur sendeth her. \"True,\" saith\nshe, \"I love him better than all in the world, and yet refuseth he my\nwill and my commandment.  Now may he no longer endure!\"\n\nShe sendeth to her brother King Madeglant, and telleth him that she\nherself doth defy him and he take not vengeance on King Arthur and\nbring him not into prison.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XXVII.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nThis history saith that the land of this King was full far away from\nthe land of King Arthur, and that needs must he pass two seas or ever\nhe should approach the first head of King Arthur's land.  He arrived in\nAlbanie with great force of men with a great navy.  When they of the\nland knew it, they garnished them against him and defended their lands\nthe best they might; then they sent word to King Arthur that King\nMadeglant was come in such manner into the land, with great plenty of\nfolk, and that he should come presently to succour them or send them a\nknight so good as that he might protect them, and that in case he doth\nnot so, the land will be lost.  When King Arthur understood these\ntidings, it was not well with him.  He asked his knights whom he might\nsend thither.  And they say, let him send Lancelot thither, for that he\nis a worthy knight and a kingly, and much understandeth of war, and\nhath in him as much loyalty as hath ever another that they know.  The\nKing maketh him come before him.\n\n\nII.\n\n\"Lancelot,\" saith the King, \"Such affiance have I in you and in your\nknighthood, that it is my will to send you to the furthest corner of my\nland, to protect it, with the approval of my knights, wherefore I pray\nand require you that you do your power herein as many a time have you\ndone already in my service.  And I will give you in command forty\nknights.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"Against your will am I not minded to be, but in\nyour court are there other knights full as good, or better than I, whom\nyou might well send thither.  But I would not that you should hold this\nof cowardize in me, and right willingly will I do your pleasure, for\nnone ought I to serve more willingly than you.\"\n\nThe King giveth him much thanks of this that he saith.  Lancelot\ndeparteth from the court, and taketh forty knights with him, and so\ncometh into the land of Albanie where King Madeglant hath arrived.\nWhen they of the land knew that Lancelot was come, great joy had they\nthereof in their hearts, for ofttimes had they heard tell of him and of\nhis good knighthood.  They were all at his commandment, and received\nhim as their champion and protector.\n\n\nIII.\n\nKing Madeglant one day issued forth of his ships to do battle against\nLancelot and them of the land.  Lancelot received him right stoutly,\nand slew many of his folk, and the more part fled and would fain have\ndrawn them to their ships, but Lancelot and his people went after and\ncut a part of them to pieces.  King Madeglant, with as many of his men\nas he might, betaketh himself to his own ship privily, and maketh put\nto sea the soonest he may.  They that might not come to the ships\nremained on dry land, and were so cut up and slain.  Madeglant went his\nway discomfited.  Of ten ships full of men that he had brought he took\nback with him but two.  The land was in peace and assured in safety.\nLancelot remained there of a long space.  They of the country loved him\nmuch and gave themselves great joy of his valour and his great bounty,\ninsomuch that most of them say ofttimes that they would fain have such\na knight as was he for king, by the goodwill of King Arthur, for that\nthe land is too far away; but and if he would set there a knight or\nother man that might protect the land, they would take it in right good\npart, and he should hold the land of him, for they might not safeguard\nit at their will without a champion, for that land without a lord may\nbut little avail.  They of the land loved Lancelot well, as I tell you.\nKing Arthur was at Cardoil, and so were his knights together with him.\nHe thought to be assured in his kingdom and to live peaceably; but what\ntime he sate at meat one day in Cardoil, behold you thereupon a knight\nthat cometh before the Table Round without saluting him.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Where is Lancelot?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the King to the knight, \"He is not in this country.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the knight, \"that misliketh me.  Wheresoever he be,\nhe is your knight and of your household; wherefore King Claudas sendeth\nyou word that he is his mortal enemy, and you also, if so be that for\nlove of him you receive him from this day forward, for he hath slain\nhis sister's son, Meliant of the Waste Manor, and he slew the father of\nMeliant likewise, but the father belongeth not to King Claudas.\n\n\nIV.\n\nMeliant was the son of his sister-german, wherefore much grieveth he of\nhis death.\"\n\n\"Sir knight,\" saith the King, \"I know not how the covenant may be\nbetween them as of this that you tell me, but well know I that King\nClaudas holdeth many a castle that King Claudas ought not of right to\nhave, whereof he disherited his father, but meet is it that each should\nconquer his own right.  But so much I tell you plainly, that never will\nI fail mine own knight and he be such as durst defend himself of\nmurder, but and if he hath no will to do this, then well may I allow\nthat right be done upon him.  But, sith that he will not love his own\ndeath, neither I nor other ought greatly to love him and he refuse to\nredress his wrong. When Lancelot shall know these tidings, I know well\nthat such is his valour and his loyalty that he will readily answer in\nreason, and will do all that he ought to do to clear himself of such a\ncharge.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"You have heard well that I have told you.\nOnce more, I tell you plainly, King Claudas sendeth you word that so\nyou harbour his enemy henceforward and in such manner as you have done\nheretofore, he will be less than pleased with you.\"\n\n\nV.\n\nWith that the knight departeth, and the King remaineth at Cardoil.  He\nsendeth for Briant of the Isles, his seneschal, and a great part of his\nknights, and demandeth counsel of them what he may do.  Messire Ywain\nsaith that he killed Meliant in the King's service, as one that warred\nupon his land, albeit the King had done him no wrong, and had so made\ncommon cause with the King's enemies without demanding right in his\ncourt.  Nor never had Meliant appealed Lancelot of murder nor of\ntreason, nor required him of the death of his father.  Rather, Lancelot\nslew him in open war, as one that warred upon his lord by wrong.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Ywain to the King, \"Howsoever Lancelot might have\nwrought in respect of Meliant, your land ought not to be called to\naccount, for you were not in the kingdom, nor knew not that either had\ndone other any wrong, and therefore say I that King Claudas will do\ngreat wrong and he bring plaint or levy war against you on this\naccount.\"\n\n\"Messire Ywain,\" saith Briant of the Isles, \"matter of common knowledge\nis it that Lancelot slew the lord of the Waste Manor and Meliant his\nson after the contention that was betwixt King Arthur and me.  But,\nafter that he had slain the father, he ought of right to have taken\ngood heed that he did no wrong to the son, but rather ought he to have\nsought peace and accord.\"\n\n\nVI.\n\n\"Briant,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Lancelot is nor here; and, moreover,\nhe is now on the King's business.  Well know you that Meliant came to\nyou and that you made him knight, and that thereafter he warred upon\nthe King's land without reasonable occasion.  The King was far away\nfrom the land as he that made pilgrimage to the Graal.  He was told\ntidings that his land was being put to the worse, and he sent Lancelot\nto protect it.  He accordingly maintained the war as best he might\nuntil such time as the King was returned.  Meliant knew well that the\nKing was come back, and that never had he done wrong to none in his\ncourt that wished to demand right therein.  He neither came thither nor\nsent, either to do right or to demand right, whether he did so for\ndespite or whether it was for that he knew not how to do it. In the\nmeanwhile he warred upon the King, that had never done him a wrong nor\nrefused to do him a right.  Lancelot slew him in the King's war and\nupon his land in defence thereof.  There was peace of the war, as was\nagreed on between you and the King, but and if any should therefore\nhold Lancelot to blame of the death of Meliant, meseemeth that therein\nis he wrong.  For the others are not held to answer for them that they\nslew; but and if you wish to say that Lancelot hath not slain him with\nreason, howsoever he may have wrought aforetime in respect of his\nfather, I am ready to maintain his right by my body on behalf of his.\"\n\n\nVII.\n\n\"Messire Gawain,\" saith Briant of the Isles, \"You will not as at this\ntime find none that will take up your gage on account of this affair,\nnor ought any to make enemies of his friends, nor ought you to counsel\nme so to do.  King Madeglant warreth upon him and King Claudas maketh\nwar upon him also.  They will deliver attacks enough.  But I should\nwell allow, for the sake of saving his land and keeping his friends,\nthat the King should suffer Lancelot to remain at a distance from his\ncourt for one year, until tidings should have come to King Claudas that\nhe had been bidden leave thereof, so as that King Arthur might have his\ngood will and his love.\"\n\nSagramors li Desirous leapeth forward.  \"Briant of the Isles,\" saith\nSagramors, \"Ill befall him that shall give such counsel to a lord or\nhis knight, and the knight have well served his lord, albeit he may\nhave slain in his wars a knight without murder and without treason,\nthat he should give him his leave!  Right ill will Lancelot hitherto\nhave bestowed his services, and the King on this account give him his\nleave!  After that, let King Claudas come!  Let him lay waste and slay,\nand right great worship shall King Arthur have thereof!  I say not this\nfor that Lancelot hath need be afeared of King Claudas body to body,\nnor of the best knight in his land, but many things befall whereof one\ntaketh no heed; and so King Arthur give leave to Lancelot from his\ncourt, it will be counted unto him for cowardize, and neither I nor you\nnor other knight ought never more to have affiance in him.\"\n\n\"Lord,\" saith Briant of the Isles, \"Better would it avail the King to\ngive Lancelot leave for one year, than it would to fight for him ten\nyears and have his land wasted and put to the worse.\"\n\n\nVIII.\n\nThereupon, behold you!  Orguelleux of the Launde come, that had not\nbeen at the court of a long time, and it had been told him whereof\nthese words were.\n\n\"Briant,\" saith Orguelleux of the Launde, \"Evil fare the knight that\nwould fain grieve and harm with their lord them that have served him\nwell!  Sith that Lancelot is not here, say nought of him that ought not\nto be said.  The court of King Arthur hath been as much renowned and\nmade honoured by Lancelot as by ever another knight that is in it, and,\nbut for him, never would his court have been so redoubted as it is.\nFor no knight is there so cruel to his foes nor so redoubted throughout\nall Great Britain as is Lancelot, and, for that King Arthur loveth you,\nmake him not that he hate his knights, for such four or such six be\nthere in his castle as may depart therefrom without returning, the loss\nwhereof should scarce be made good by us.  Lancelot hath well served\nthe King aforetime, and the King well knoweth how much he is worth; and\nif so be that King Claudas purposeth to war on King Arthur for\nLancelot's sake, according as I have heard, without any reason, and\nKing Arthur be not more craven than he wont to be, he may well abide\nhis warfare and his strife so treason harm him not.  For so many good\nknights hath King Arthur yet, that none knoweth such knights nor such\nKing in the world beside.\"\n\n\n\nBRANCH XXVIII.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nThis story saith that Briant would have been wroth with a will against\nOrguelleux of the Launde, had it not been for the King, and Orguelleux\nagainst him, for Orguelleux heeded no danger when anger and ill-will\ncarried him away.  Therewithal the talk came to an end.  When the King\nlearnt the tidings that Madeglant was discomfited and that the land of\nAlbanie was in peace, he sent word to Lancelot to return back.  They of\nthe land were very sorrowful when he departed, for great affiance had\nthey in his chivalry.  So he came back thither where King Arthur was.\nAll they of the land made a great joy, for well loved was he of many,\nnor were there none that hated him save of envy alone.  They told him\nthe tidings of King Claudas, and also in what manner Briant had spoken.\nLancelot took no notice outwardly, as he that well knew how to redress\nall his grievances.  He was at the court of a long while, for that King\nClaudas was about to send over thither some one of his knights.  Briant\nof the Isles would fain that the King should have given him his leave,\nfor more he hated him than ever another knight in the court, sith he it\nwas that many a time had harmed him more than any other.  By Briant's\ncounsel, King Claudas sent his knight to King Arthur's court, wherein\ndid he not wisely, for that he thereby renewed a matter whereof\nafterward came right great mischief, as this title witnesseth.\n\n\nII.\n\nMadeglant of Oriande heard say that Lancelot was repaired back, and\nthat the land of Albanie was all void save for the folk of the country.\nHe maketh ready his navy at once and cometh back to the land in great\nforce.  He burneth the land and layeth it waste on every side, and doth\nfar worse therein than he did aforetime. They of the land sent over to\nKing Arthur and told him of their evil plight, warning him that, and he\nsend them not succour betimes, they will leave the land and yield up\nthe castles, for that they might not hold them longer.  He took\ncounsel, the King with his knights, whom he might send thither, and\nthey said that Lancelot had already been there and that now another\nknight should be sent thither.  The King sent thither Briant of the\nIsles, and lent him forty knights.  Briant, that loved not the King in\nhis heart, came into the land, but only made pretence of helping him to\ndefend it.  One day fell out a battle betwixt Madeglant and Briant and\nall their men.  Briant was discomfited, and had many of his knights\nkilled.  Madeglant and his people spread themselves over the land and\nlaid the towns in ruins and destroyed the castles, that were\ndisgarnished, and put to death all them that would not believe in their\ngods, and cut off their heads.\n\n\nIII.\n\nAll they of the land and country longed with sorrow for Lancelot, and\nsaid that had he remained there, the land would not have been thus\ndestroyed, nor might they never have protection of no knight but of him\nalone.  Briant of the Isles returned back, as he that would the war\nagainst King Arthur should increase on every side, for, what good\nsoever the King may do him, he loveth him not, nor never will so long\nas he is on live.  But no semblant thereof durst he show, for, sith\nthat the best of his knights had been slain in the battle, so had he no\npower on his side, as against Lancelot and the good knights of his\nfellowship, whereof he would fain that there had been not one.\n\n\nIV.\n\nKing Arthur was at Cardoil on one day of Whitsuntide.  Many were the\nknights that were come to this court whereof I tell you.  The King was\nseated at meat, and the day was fair and clear, and the air clean and\nfresh.  Sagramors li Desirous and Lucan the Butler served before the\nKing.  And what time they had served of the first meats, therewithal\nbehold you, a quarrel, like as it had been shot from a cross-bow, and\nstriketh in the column of the hall before the King so passing strong\nthat there was not a knight in the hall but heard it when it struck\ntherein.  They all looked thereat in great wonderment.  The quarrel was\nlike as it were of gold, and it had about it a many costly precious\nstones. The King saith that quarrel so costly cometh not from a poor\nplace.  Lancelot and Messire Gawain say that never have they seen one\nso rich.  It struck so deep in the column that the iron point thereof\nmight not be seen, and a good part of the shaft was also hidden.\nThereupon, behold you, a damsel of surpassing great beauty that cometh,\nsitting on a right costly mule, full well caparisoned.  She had a\ngilded bridle and gilded saddle, and was clad in a right rich cloth of\nsilk.  A squire followed after her that drove her mule from behind.\nShe came before King Arthur as straight as she might, and saluted him\nright worshipfully, and he made answer the best he might.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I am come to speak and demand a boon, nor will I\nnever alight until such time as you shall have granted it to me.  For\nsuch is my custom, and for this am I come to your court, whereof I have\nheard such tidings and such witness in many places where I have been,\nthat I know you will not deny me herein.\"\n\n\nV.\n\n\"Damsel, tell me what boon you would have of me?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I would fain pray and beseech you that you bid the\nknight that may draw forth this quarrel from this column go thither\nwhere there is sore need of him.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Tell me the need.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I will tell it you plainly when I shall see the\nknight that shall have drawn it forth.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Alight!  Never, please God, shall you go\nforth of my court denied of that you ask.\"\n\nLucan the Butler taketh her between his arms and setteth her to the\nground, and her mule is led away to be stabled.  When the damsel had\nwashen, she was set in a seat beside Messire Ywain, that showed her\nmuch honour and served her with a good will.  He looked at her from\ntime to time, for she was fair and gentle and of good countenance.\nWhen they had eaten at the tables, the damsel prayeth the King that he\nwill hasten them to do her business.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Many a good knight is there within yonder, and right\nglad may he be that shall draw it forth, for I tell you a right good\nknight is he, sith that none may achieve this business save he alone.\"\n\n\"Fair nephew,\" saith the King, \"Now set your hand to this quarrel and\ngive it back to the damsel.\"\n\n\"Ha, sir,\" saith he, \"Do me not shame!  By the faith that I owe you, I\nwill not set my hand forward herein this day, nor ought you to be wroth\nhereof.  Behold, here have you Lancelot with you, and so many other\ngood knights, that little worship should I have herein were I to set\nmyself forward before them.\"\n\n\"Messire Ywain,\" saith the King, \"Set your hand hereto!  It may be that\nyou think too humbly of yourself herein.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Messire Ywain, \"Nought is there in the world that I would\nnot do for you, but as for this matter I pray you hold me excused.\"\n\n\"Sagramors, and you, Orguelleux of the Launde, what will you do?\" saith\nthe King.\n\n\"Sir,\" say they, \"When Lancelot hath made assay, we will do your\npleasure, but before him, so please you, we will not go.\"\n\n\nVI.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith the King, \"Pray Lancelot that he be fain to set his\nhand, and then the rest shall go after him if needs be.\"\n\n\"Lancelot,\" saith the damsel, \"By the thing that most you love, make\nnot mine errand bootless, but set your hand to the quarrel and then\nwill the others do that they ought of right to do.  For no leisure have\nI to tarry here long time.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Lancelot, \"Ill do you, and a sin, to conjure me for\nnought, for so many good knights be here within, that I should be held\nfor a fool and a braggart and I put myself forward before all other.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the King, \"Not so!  Rather will you be held as a\nknight courteous and wise and good, as now you ought to be, and great\nworship will it be to yourself and you may draw forth the quarrel, and\ngreat courtesy will it be to aid the damsel. Wherefore I require you,\nof the faith you owe me, that you set your hand thereto, sith that the\ndamsel prayeth you so to do, before the others.\"\n\n\nVII.\n\nLancelot hath no mind to disobey the King's commandment; and he\nremembered that the damsel had conjured him by the thing that most he\nloved; nor was there nought in the world that he loved so much as the\nQueen, albeit she were dead, nor never thought he of none other thing\nsave her alone.  Then standeth he straight upright, doth off his robe,\nand cometh straight to the quarrel that is fixed in the column.  He\nsetteth his hand thereunto and draweth it forth with a right passing\nstrong wrench, so sturdily that he maketh the column tremble.  Then he\ngiveth it to the damsel.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she to King Arthur, \"Now is it my devoir to tell you\nplainly of my errand; nor might none of the knights here within have\ndrawn forth the quarrel save only he; and you held me in covenant how\nhe that should draw it forth should do that which I shall require of\nhim, and that he might do it, nor will I pray nor require of him nought\nthat is not reason.  Needs must he go to the Chapel Perilous the\nswiftest he may, and there will he find a knight that lieth shrouded in\nthe midst of the chapel.  He will take of the cloth wherein he is\nshrouded and a sword that lieth at his side in the coffin, and will\ntake them to the Castle Perilous; and when he shall there have been, he\nshall return to the castle where he slew the lion in the cavern wherein\nare the two griffons, and the head of one of them shall he take and\nbring to me at Castle Perilous, for a knight there lieth sick that may\nnot otherwise be healed.\"\n\n\nVIII.\n\n\"Damsel.\" saith Lancelot, \"I see that you reckon but little of my life,\nso only that your wish be accomplished.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I know as well as you what the enterprise is, nor do\nI no whit desire your death, for, and were you dead, never would the\nknight be whole for whose sake you undertake it.  And you will see the\nfairest damsel that is in any kingdom, and the one that most desireth\nto see you.  And, so you tarry not, through her shall you lightly get\ndone that you have to do.  See now that you delay it not, but do that\nis needful swiftly sith that it hath been laid upon you, for the longer\nyou tarry, the greater will be the hazard of mischance befalling you.\"\n\nThe damsel departeth from the court and taketh her leave and goeth her\nway back as fast as she may, and saith to herself: \"Lancelot, albeit\nyou have these pains and this travail for me, yet would I not your\ndeath herein, but of right ought I to rejoice in your tribulation, for\ninto two of the most perilous places in the world are you going.\nGreatly ought I to hate you, for you reft me of my friend and gave him\nto another, and while I live may I never forget it.\"\n\nThe damsel goeth her way, and Lancelot departeth from the court and\ntaketh leave of the King and of all the others.  He issueth forth of\nCardoil, all armed, and entereth into the forest that is deep, and so\ngoeth forth a great pace, and prayeth God guide him into safety.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XXIX.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nTherewithal the story is silent of Lancelot, and saith that Briant of\nthe Isles is repaired to Cardoil.  Of the forty knights that he took\nwith him, but fifteen doth he bring back again. Thereof is King Arthur\nright sorrowful, and saith that he hath the fewer friends.  They of the\nland of Albanie have sent to King Arthur and told him that and he would\nnot lose the land for evermore he must send them Lancelot, for never\nsaw they knight that better knew how to avenge him on his enemies and\nto do them hurt than was he.  The King asketh Briant of the Isles how\nit is that his knights are dead in such sort?\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Briant, \"Madeglant hath great force of people, and what\nforce of men soever may run upon them, they make a castle of their navy\nin such sort that none may endure against them, and never did no folk\nknow so much of war as do they.  The land lieth far away from you, and\nmore will it cost you to hold it than it is worth; and, if you will\nbelieve my counsel, you will trouble yourself no more about it, and\nthey of the country would be well counselled and they did the same.\"\n\n\"Briant,\" saith the King, \"This would be great blame to myself. No\nworshipful man ought to be idle in guarding and holding that which is\nhis own.  The worshipful man ought not to hold of things so much for\ntheir value as for their honour, and if I should leave the land\ndisgarnished of my aid and my counsel, they will take mine, and will\nsay that I have not heart to protect my land; and even now is it great\nshame to myself that they have settled themselves there and would fain\ndraw away them of the land to their evil law.  And I would fain that\nLancelot had achieved that he hath undertaken, and I would have sent\nhim there, for none would protect the land better than he, and, were he\nnow there along with forty knights and with them of the country,\nMadeglant would make but short stay there.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Briant, \"They of the country reckon nought of you nor any\nother but Lancelot only, and they say that and you send him there they\nwill make him King.\"\n\n\"It may well be that they say so,\" saith the King, \"But never would\nLancelot do aught that should be against my will.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Briant, \"Sith that you are not minded to believe me, I\nwill say no more in this matter, but in the end his knighthood will\nharm you rather than help you and you take no better heed thereof than\nup to this time you have done.\"\n\n\n\nBRANCH XXX.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nOf Briant of the Isles the story is here silent, whom King the\nbelieveth too much in many things, and saith that Lancelot goeth his\nway right through the forest, full heavy in thought.  He had not ridden\nfar when he met a knight that was right sore wounded. He asked him\nwhence he came and who had wounded him in such manner.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"I come from the Chapel Perilous, where I was not able\nto defend me against an evil folk that appeared there; and they have\nwounded me in such sort as you see, and but for a damsel that came\nthereinto from the forest I should not have escaped on live.  But she\naided me on such condition that and I should see a knight they call\nLancelot, or Perceval, or Messire Gawain, I should tell which of them\nsoever I should first meet withal that he should go to her without\ndelay, for much she marvelleth her that none of them cometh into the\nchapel, for none ought to enter there but good knights only.  But much\ndo I marvel, Sir, how the damsel durst enter there, for it is the most\nmarvellous place that is, and the damsel is of right great beauty;\nnatheless she cometh thither oftentimes alone into the chapel.  A\nknight lieth in the chapel that hath been slain of late, that was a\nfell and cruel knight and a hardy.\"\n\n\"What was his name?\" saith Lancelot.\n\n\"He was named Ahuret the Bastard,\" saith the knight; \"And he had but\none arm and one hand, and the other was smitten off at a castle that\nMessire Gawain gave Meliot of Logres when he succoured him against this\nknight that lieth in the coffin.  And Meliot of Logres hath slain the\nknight that had assieged the castle, but the knight wounded him sore,\nso that he may not be whole save he have the sword wherewith he wounded\nhim, that lieth in the coffin at his side, and some of the cloth\nwherein he is enshrouded; and, so God grant me to meet one of the\nknights, gladly will I convey unto him the damsel's message.\"\n\n\"Sir Knight,\" saith Lancelot, \"One of them have you found.  My name is\nLancelot, and for that I see you are wounded and in evil plight, I tell\nit you thus freely.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"Now may God protect your body, for you go in\ngreat peril of death.  But the damsel much desireth to see you, I know\nnot for what, and well may she aid you if she will.\"\n\n\nII.\n\n\"Sir Knight, God hath brought us forth of many a peril, and so will He\nalso from this and it be His pleasure and His will.\"\n\nWith that, Lancelot departeth from the knight, and hath ridden so far\nthat he is come at evensong to the Chapel Perilous, that standeth in a\ngreat valley of the forest, and hath a little churchyard about it that\nis well enclosed on all sides, and hath an ancient cross without the\nentrance.  The chapel and the graveyard are overshadowed of the forest,\nthat is right tall. Lancelot entereth therein all armed.  He signeth\nhim of the cross and blesseth him and commendeth him to God.  He seeth\nin the grave-yard coffins in many places, and it seemeth him that he\nseeth folk round about that talk together, the one with another. But he\nmight not hear that they said.  He might not see them openly, but very\ntall they seemed him to be.  He is come toward the chapel and alighteth\nof his horse, and seeth a shed outside the chapel, wherein was\nprovender for horses.  He goeth thither to set his own there, then\nleaneth his shield against his spear at the entrance of the chapel, and\nentereth in, where it was very dark, for no light was there save only\nof a single lamp that shone full darkly.  He seeth the coffin that was\nin the midst of the chapel wherein the knight lay.\n\n\nIII.\n\nWhen he had made his orison before an image of Our Lady, he cometh to\nthe coffin and openeth it as fast as he may, and seeth the knight, tall\nand foul of favour, that therein lay dead.  The cloth wherein he was\nenshrouded was displayed all bloody.  He taketh the sword that lay at\nhis side and lifteth the windingsheet to rend it at the seam, then\ntaketh the knight by the head to lift him upward, and findeth him so\nheavy and so ungain that scarce may he remove him.  He cutteth off the\nhalf of the cloth wherein he is enshrouded, and the coffin beginneth to\nmake a crashing so passing loud that it seemed the chapel were falling.\nWhen he hath the piece of the cloth and the sword he closeth the coffin\nagain, and forthwith cometh to the door of the chapel and seeth mount,\nin the midst of the grave-yard as it seemed him, great knights and\nhorrible, and they are appareled as it were to combat, and him thinketh\nthat they are watching for him and espy him.\n\n\nIV.\n\nThereupon, behold you, a damsel running, her kirtle girt high about\nher, right through the grave-yard a great pace.\n\n\"Take heed you move not until such time as it is known who the knight\nis!\"  She is come to the chapel.  \"Sir Knight, lay down the sword and\nthis that you have taken of the windingsheet of the dead knight!\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Lancelot, \"What hurt doth it you of this that I have?\"\n\n\"This,\" saith she, \"That you have taken it without my leave; for I have\nhim in charge, both him and the chapel.  And I would fain,\" saith she,\n\"know what is your name?\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"What would you gain of knowing my name?\"\n\n\"I know not,\" saith she, \"whether I shall have either loss or gain\nthereof, but high time already is it that I should ask you it to my\nsorrow, for many a time have I been deceived therein.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"I am called Lancelot of the Lake.\"\n\n\"You ought of right,\" saith she, \"to have the sword and the cloth; but\ncome you with me to my castle, for oftentimes have I desired that you\nand Perceval and Messire Gawain should see the three tombs that I have\nmade for your three selves.\"\n\n\nV.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"No wish have I to see my sepulchre so early\nbetimes.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith she, \"And you come not thither, you may not issue\nfrom hence without tribulation; and they that you see there are earthly\nfiends that guard this grave-yard and are at my commandment.\"\n\n\"Never, damsel, please God,\" saith Lancelot, \"may your devils have\npower to harm a Christian.\"\n\n\"Ha, Lancelot,\" saith she, \"I beseech and pray you that you come with\nme into my castle, and I will save your life as at this time from this\nfolk that are just now ready to fall upon you; and, so you are not\nwilling to do this, yield me back the sword that you have taken from\nthe coffin, and go your way at once.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Lancelot, \"Into your castle may I not go, nor desire I\nto go, wherefore pray me no more thereof, for other business have I to\ndo; nor will I yield you back the sword, whatsoever may befall me, for\na certain knight may not otherwise be healed, and great pity it were\nthat he should die.\"\n\n\"Ha, Lancelot,\" saith she, \"How hard and cruel do I find you towards\nme!  And as good cause have I to be sorry that you have the sword as\nhave you to be glad.  For, and you had not had it upon you, never\nshould you have carried it off from hence at your will; rather should I\nhave had all my pleasure of you, and I would have made you be borne\ninto my castle, from whence never should you nave moved again for\nnought you might do; and thus should I have been quit of the wardenship\nof this chapel and of coming thereinto in such manner as now oftentimes\nI needs must come.\n\n\nVI.\n\n\"But now am I taken in a trap, for, so long as you have the sword, not\none of them that are there yonder can do you evil nor hinder you of\ngoing.\"\n\nOf this was Lancelot not sorry.  He taketh leave of the damsel, that\ndeparteth grudgingly, garnisheth him again of his arms, then mounteth\nagain on his horse and goeth his way right through the grave-yard.  He\nbeholdeth this evil folk, that were so foul and huge and hideous, it\nseemed as if they would devour everything. They made way for Lancelot,\nand had no power to hurt him.  He is issued forth of the grave-yard and\ngoeth his way through the forest until daylight appeared about him,\nfair and clear.  He found the hermit there where he had heard mass,\nthen ate a little, then departed and rode the day long until setting of\nthe sun, but could find no hold on the one side nor the other wherein\nhe might lodge, and so was benighted in the forest.\n\n\nVII.\n\nLancelot knew not which way to turn, for he had not often been in the\nforest, and knew not how the land lay nor the paths therein. He rode\nuntil he found a little causeway, and there was a path at the side that\nled to an orchard that was at a corner of the forest, where there was a\npostern gate whereby one entered, and it was not made fast for the\nnight.  And the orchard was well enclosed with walls.  Lancelot entered\nin and made fast the entrance, then took off his horse's bridle and let\nhim feed on the grass.  He might not espy the castle that was hard by\nfor the abundance of trees and the darkness of the night, and so knew\nnot whither he was arrived.  He laid his shield for a pillow and his\narms at his side and fell on sleep.  But, had he known where it was he\nhad come, little sleep would he have had, for he was close to the\ncavern where he slew the lion and where the griffons were, that had\ncome in from the forest all gorged of victual, and were fallen on\nsleep, and it was for them that the postern gate had been left\nunbolted.  A damsel went down from a chamber by a trapdoor with a\nbrachet on her arm for fear of the griffons, and as she went toward the\npostern-gate to lock it, she espied Lancelot, that lay asleep in the\nmidst of the orchard.  She ran back to her Lady the speediest she\nmight, and said unto her: \"Up, Lady!\" saith she, \"Lancelot is sleeping\nin the orchard!\"\n\nShe leapt up incontinent and came to the orchard there where Lancelot\nwas sleeping, then sate her down beside him and began to look at him,\nsighing the while, and draweth as near him as she may.\n\n\"Fair Lord God,\" saith she, \"what shall I do?  and I wake him first he\nwill have no care to kiss me, and if I kiss him sleeping he will awake\nforthwith; and better hap is it for me to take the most I may even in\nsuch-wise than to fail of all, and, moreover, if so be I shall have\nkissed him, I may hope that he will not hate me thereof, sith that I\nmay then boast that I have had at least so much of that which is his\nown.\"\n\nShe set her mouth close to him and so kissed him the best and fairest\nshe might, three times, and Lancelot awakened forthwith. He leapt up\nand made the cross upon him, then looked at the damsel, and said: \"Ha,\nGod!  where, then, am I?\"\n\n\"Fair sweet friend,\" saith she, \"You are nigh her that hath all set her\nheart upon you and will remove it never.\"\n\n\"I cry you mercy, damsel,\" saith Lancelot, \"and I tell you, for nought\nthat may befall, one that loveth me, please God, never will I hate!\nbut that which one hath loved long time ought not so soon to fall away\nfrom the remembrance of a love that is rooted in the heart, when she\nhath been proven good and loyal, nor ought one so soon to depart\ntherefrom.\"\n\n\nVIII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"This castle is at your commandment, and you will\nremain therein, and well may you know my thought towards you.  Would\nthat your thought were the same towards me.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"I seek the healing of a knight that may not be\nhealed save I bring him the head of one of your serpents.\"\n\n\"Certes, Sir, so hath it been said.  But I bade the damsel say so only\nfor that I was fain you should come back hither to me.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"I have come back hither, and so may I turn back\nagain sith that of the serpent's head is there no need.\"\n\n\"Ha, Lancelot,\" saith she, \"How good a knight are you, and how ill\ndefault do you make in another way!  No knight, methinketh, is there in\nthe world that would have refused me save only you. This cometh of your\nfolly, and your outrage, and your baseness of heart!  The griffons have\nnot done my will in that they have not slain you or strangled you as\nyou slept, and, so I thought that they would have power to slay you, I\nwould make them come to slay you now.  But the devil hath put so much\nknighthood into you that scarce any man may have protection against\nyou.  Better ought I to love you dead than alive.  By my head, I would\nfain that your head were hanged with the others that hang at the\nentrance of the gateway, and, had I thought you would have failed me in\nsuch wise I would have brought my father hither to where you were\nsleeping, and right gladly would he have slain you.\"\n\n\nIX.\n\n\"None that knoweth the covenant between me and you ought to hold you\nfor a good knight; for you have cozened me of my right according to the\ntenor and custom of the castle if that through perversity or\nslothfulness you durst not take me when you have won me.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Lancelot, \"You may say your will.  You have done so\nmuch for me sithence that I came hither that I ought not to be afeard\nof you, for traitor is the man or woman that kisseth another to procure\nhis hurt.\"\n\n\"Lancelot, I took but that I might have, for well I see that none more\nthereof may I have never again.\"\n\nHe goeth to put the bridle on his destrier, and then taketh leave of\nthe damsel, that parteth from him right sorrowfully; but Lancelot would\nno longer tarry, for great throng of knights was there in the castle,\nand he was not minded to put him in jeopardy for nought.  He issueth\nforth of the orchard, and the damsel looketh after him as long as she\nmay see him.  After that, cometh she to her chamber, sad and vexed at\nheart, nor knoweth she how she may bear herself, for the thing in the\nworld that most she loveth is far away, and no joy may she have thereof.\n\n\nX.\n\nLancelot rideth right amidst the forest until it is day, and cometh at\nthe right hour of noon to the Castle Perilous, where Meliot of Logres\nlay.  He entered into the castle.  The damsel that was at King Arthur's\ncourt cometh to meet him.\n\n\"Lancelot,\" saith she, \"Welcome may you be!\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"Good adventure may you have!\"\n\nHe was alighted at the mountingstage of the hall.  She maketh him mount\nup the steps and afterward be disarmed.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"Behold, here is some of the winding-sheet wherein\nthe knight was shrouded, and here is his sword; but you befooled me as\nconcerning the serpent's head.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the damsel, \"that did I for the sake of the damsel\nof the Castle of Griffons that hateth you not a whit, for so prayed she\nme to do.  Now hath she seen you, and so will she be more at ease, and\nwill have no cause to ask me thereof.\"\n\n\nXI.\n\nThe damsel leadeth Lancelot to where Meliot of Logres lay. Lancelot\nsitteth him down before him and asketh how it is with him?\n\n\"Meliot,\" saith the damsel, \"This is Lancelot, that bringeth you your\nhealing.\"\n\n\"Ha, Sir, welcome may you be!\"\n\n\"God grant you health speedily,\" said Lancelot.\n\n\"Ha, for God's sake,\" saith Meliot, \"What doth Messire Gawain? Is he\nhearty?\"\n\n\"I left him quite hearty when I parted from him,\" saith Lancelot, \"And\nso he knew that you had been wounded in such sort, full sorry would he\nbe thereof and King Arthur likewise.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"The knight that assieged them maimed me in this\nfashion, but was himself maimed in such sort that he is dead thereof.\nBut the wounds that he dealt me are so cruel and so raging, that they\nmay not be healed save his sword toucheth them and if be not bound with\nsome of the winding-sheet wherein he was shrouded, that he had\ndisplayed about him, all bloody.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith the damsel, \"Behold them here!\"\n\n\"Ha, Sir,\" saith he, \"Gramercy of this great goodness!  In every way\nappeareth it that you are good knight, for, but for the goodness of\nyour knighthood, the coffin wherein the knight lieth had never opened\nso lightly, nor would you never have had the sword nor the cloth, nor\nnever till now hath knight entered therein but either he were slain\nthere, or departed thence wounded right grievously.\"\n\nThey uncover his wounds, and Lancelot unbindeth them, and the damsel\ntoucheth him of the sword and the winding-sheet, and they are assuaged\nfor him.  And he saith that now at last he knoweth well he need not\nfear to die thereof.  Lancelot is right joyful thereof in his heart,\nfor that he seeth he will be whole betimes; and sore pity had it been\nof his death, for a good knight was he, and wise and loyal.\n\n\nXI.\n\n\"Lancelot,\" saith the lady, \"Long time have I hated you on account of\nthe knight that I loved, whom you reft away from me and married to\nanother and not to me, and ofttimes have I put myself to pains to\ngrieve you of some ill deed for that you did to me, for never was I so\nsorrowful for aught that befell me.  He loved me of right great love,\nand I him again, and never shall that love fail.  But now is it far\nfurther away from me than it was before, and for this bounty that you\nhave done, never hereafter need you fear aught of my grievance.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Lancelot, \"Gramercy heartily.\"\n\nHe was lodged in the castle the night richly and worshipfully, and\ndeparted thence on the morrow when he had taken leave of the damsel and\nMeliot, and goeth back a great pace toward the court of King Arthur,\nthat was sore dismayed, for Madeglant was conquering his islands and\ngreat part of his land.  The more part of the lands that he conquered\nhad renounced the New Law for fear of death and held the false believe.\nAnd Messire Gawain and many other knights were departed from King\nArthur's court for that the King trusted more in Briant of the Isles\nthan he did in them.\n\n\nXIII.\n\nFor many times had King Arthur sent knights against Madeglant since\nLancelot was departed from the court, to the intent that they should\nput to rebuke the enemies of his land, but never saw he one come back\nfrom thence nought discomfited.  The King of Oriande made much boast\nthat he would fulfil for his sister all that she had bidden him, for he\nthought that King Arthur would yield himself up betimes unto him and\nyield all his land likewise.  The King greatly desired the return of\nLancelot, and said ofttimes that and he had been against his enemies as\nnigh as the others he had sent they would not have durst so to fly\nagainst him.  In the midst of the dismay wherein was King Arthur,\nLancelot returned to the court, whereof was the King right joyous.\nLancelot knew that Messire Gawain and Messire Ywain were not there, and\nthat they held them aloof from the court more willingly than they\nallowed on account of Briant of the Isles, that King Arthur believed in\nmore than ever a one of the others. He was minded to depart in like\nsort, but the King would not let him, but said to him rather,\n\"Lancelot, I pray and beseech you, as him that I love much, that you\nset your pains and your counsel on defending my land, for great\naffiance have I in you.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"My aid and my force shall fail you never; take\nheed that yours fail not me.\"\n\n\"Of right ought I not to fail you,\" saith the King, \"Nor will I never,\nfor I should fail myself thereby.\"\n\n\nXIV.\n\nThe history saith that he gave Lancelot forty knights in charge, and\nthat he is come into an island where King Madeglant was.  Or ever he\nknew of his coming, Lancelot had cut off his retreat, for he cut his\ncables and beat his anchors to pieces and broke up his ships.  After\nthat, he struck among the people of Madeglant, and slew as many of them\nas he would, he and his knights.  The King thought to withdraw him\nback, both him and his fellowship, into safety as he wont, but he found\nhimself right ill bested. Lancelot drove him toward the sea, whither he\nfled, but only to find himself no less discomfit there, and slew him in\nthe midst of his folk, and all his other knights were slain and cast\ninto the sea.  This island was freed of him by Lancelot, and from\nthence he went to the other islands that Madeglant had conquered and\nset again under the false Law, and there did away the false Law from\nthem that had been set thereunder by fear of death, and stablished the\nland in such sort as it had been tofore.  He roved so long from one\nisland to another that presently he came to Albanie where he had\nsuccoured them at first.\n\n\nXV.\n\nWhen they of the land saw him come, they well knew that the King of\nOriande was dead and the islands made free, whereof made they great\njoy.  The land was some deal emptied of the most puissant and the\nstrongest, for they were dead along with their lord. Lancelot had\nbrought with him some of the best knights and most puissant.  He was\ncome with a great navy into the land and began to destroy it.  They of\nthe land were misbelievers, for they believed in false idols and in\nfalse images.  They saw that they might not defend the land, sith that\ntheir lord was dead.  The more part let themselves be slain for that\nthey would not renounce the evil Law, and they that were minded to turn\nto God were saved.  The kingdom was right rich and right great that\nLancelot conquered and attorned to the Law of Our Lord in such wise.\nHe made break all the false images of copper and fatten wherein they\nhad believed tofore, and whereof false answers came to them of the\nvoices of devils.  Thereafter he caused be made crucifixes and images\nin the likeness of Our Lord, and in the likeness of His sweet Mother,\nthe better to confirm them of the kingdoms in the Law.\n\n\nXVI.\n\nThe strongest and most valiant of the land assembled one day and said\nthat it was high time a land so rich should no longer be without a\nKing.  They all agreed and came to Lancelot and told him how they would\nfain that he should be King of the realm he had conquered, for in no\nland might he be better employed, and they would help him conquer other\nrealms enow.  Lancelot thanked them much, but told them that of this\nland nor of none other would he be King save by the good will of King\nArthur only; for that all the conquest he had made was his, and by his\ncommandment had he come thither, and had given him his own knights in\ncharge that had helped him to reconquer the lands.\n\n\nXVII.\n\nKing Claudas had heard tell how Lancelot had slain the King of Oriande\nand that none of the islands might scarce be defended against him.  He\nhad no liking of him, neither of his good knighthood nor of his\nconquest, for well remembered he of the land that he had conquered from\nKing Ban of Benoic that was Lancelot's father, and therefore was he\nsorry of the good knighthood whereof Lancelot was everywhere held of\nworth and renown, for that he was tenant of his father's land.  King\nClaudas sent a privy message to Briant and bore him on hand that, and\nhe might do so much as that King Arthur should forbid Lancelot his\ncourt, and that it were ill with him with the King, he would have much\nliking thereof and would help him betimes to take vengeance on his\nenemies, for, so Lancelot were forth of his court, and Messire Gawain,\nthe rest would scarce abide long time, and thus should they have all\ntheir will of King Arthur's land. Briant sent word back to King Claudas\nthat Messire Gawain and Messire Ywain began to hold them aloof from the\ncourt, and that as for most part of the other he need not trouble him a\nwhit, for he might so deal as that in short time Lancelot should be\nwell trounced, would they or nould they.\n\n\nXVIII.\n\nTidings are come to King Arthur's court that the King of Oriande is\ndead and his people destroyed, and that Lancelot hath conquered his\nkingdom and slain the King, and reconquered all the lands wherein he\nhad set the false Law and the false believe by his force and by dread\nof him.  And the more part say in the court that they of the realm of\nOriande nor those of the other islands will not let Lancelot repair to\ncourt, and are doing their endeavour to make him King; and nought is\nthere in the world, and he command them, they will not do, and that\nnever was no folk so obedient to any as are they of all these lands to\nhim. Briant of the Isles cometh one day privily to King Arthur, and\nsaith: \"Sir,\" saith he, \"Much ought I to love you, for that you have\nmade me Seneschal of your land; whereby meseemeth you have great\naffiance in me, and my bounden duty is it to turn aside that which is\nevil from you and to set forward your good everywhere, and, did I not\nso, no whit loyal should I be towards you.\n\n\nXIX.\n\n\"Tidings are come to me of late that they of the kingdom of Oriande and\nAlbanie and of the other islands that are your appanages have all\nleagued together, and have sworn and given surety that they will aid\none another against you, and they are going presently to make Lancelot\ntheir King, and will come down upon your land as speedily as they may\nwheresoever he may dare lead them, and they have sworn their oath that\nthey will conquer your kingdom just as you now hold it, and, so you be\nnot garnished against them betimes, you may have thereof sore trouble\nto your own body as well as the loss whereof I tell you.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the King, \"I believe not that Lancelot durst think\nthis, nor that he would have the heart to do me evil.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Briant, \"Long time have I had misgivings both of\nthis and of him, but one ought not to tell one's lord all that one\nknows, for that one cannot be sure either that it be not leasing or\nthat folk wish to meddle in his affairs out of envy. But nought is\nthere in the world that I will conceal from you henceforward for the\nlove that you bear me and for that you have affiance in me, and so may\nyou well have, for I have abandoned my land for you that marched with\nyour own, whereby you may sorely straiten your enemies, for well you\nknow that in your court is there no knight of greater puissance than am\nI.\"\n\n\nXX.\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the King, \"I am fain to love you and hold you dear,\nnor shall you never be removed from my love nor from my service for\nnought that may be said of any, so manifestly have I seen your goodness\nand your loyalty.  I will bid Lancelot by my letters and under my seal\nthat he come to speak with me, for sore need have I thereof, and when\nhe shall be here we will take account of this that you have told me,\nfor this will I not, that he nor none other that may be my knight shall\ndare rise in arms against me, for such power ought lord of right to\nhave over his knight, and to be feared and dreaded of him, for elsewise\nis he feeble, and lordship without power availeth nought.\"\n\n\nXXI.\n\nThe King sent his letters by his messenger to Lancelot.  The messenger\nsought him until he found him in the kingdom of Oriande, and delivered\nhim the letters and the seal of the King. So soon as he knew that which\nthe letters say, he took leave of them of the land, that were right\nsorrowful.  He departed thence and came back to Cardoil, bringing with\nhim all the knights that he had in charge, and told the King that he\nhad reconquered for him all the islands, and that the King of Oriande\nwas dead and that his land was attorned to the Law of Our Lord.  The\nKing bade Briant of the Isles that he should make forty knights come\narmed under their cloaks ready to take Lancelot prisoner as soon as he\nshould command them.  The tidings come to Lancelot, there where he was\nin his hostel, that the King had made knights come all armed to the\npalace.  Lancelot bethought him that some need had arisen and that he\nwould arm himself likewise, so he made him be armed and came to the\nhall where the King was.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Briant, \"Lancelot thinketh him of something, for he hath\narmed himself at his hostel, and is come hither in such manner and at\nsuch time without your leave, and he may do something more yet.  You\nought well to ask him wherefore he wisheth to do you evil, and in what\nmanner you have deserved it.\"\n\nHe biddeth him be called before him.  \"Lancelot,\" saith the King,\n\"Wherefore are you armed?\"\n\n\"Sir, I was told that knights had come in hither armed, and I was\nfeared lest some mishap had befallen you, for I would not that any evil\nshould betide you.\"\n\n\"You come hither for another thing,\" saith the King, \"according to that\nI have been given to wit, and, had the hall been void of folk, you\nhoped to have slain me.\"\n\nThe King commandeth him be taken forthwith without gainsay of any.  The\nknights that were armed did off their cloaks and leapt toward him on\nall sides, for they durst not disobey the King's commandment, and the\nmore part were men of Briant of the Isles.\n\n\nXXII.\n\nLancelot seeth them coming towards him with their keen swords and\nsaith, \"By my head, an evil guerdon do you return me of the services I\nhave done for you.\"\n\nThe knights come to him all together swords drawn, and run upon him all\nat once.  He goeth defending himself, as far as the wall of the hall,\nwhereof he maketh a castle to his back, but before he cometh thither he\nhath slain or wounded seven.  He began to defend himself right stoutly\non all sides, but they gave him great buffets of their swords, and no\nfair play is it of thirty or forty blows to one.  Nor ought none\nbelieve that one single knight might deliver himself from so many men,\nseeing that they were eager to take him and do him a hurt.  Lancelot\ndefended him the best he might, but the numbers were against him, and,\nanyway, or ever he let himself be taken he sold himself right dear, for\nof the forty knights he harmed at least a score, and of them was none\nthat was not sore wounded and the most part killed; and he caught\nBriant of the Isles, that was helping to take him, so sore that he made\nhis sword drink the blood of his body, in such sort that the wound was\nright wide.  The knights laid hold on Lancelot on all sides, and the\nKing commanded that none should harm him, but that they should bring\nhim to his dungeon in the prison. Lancelot marvelled him much wherefore\nthe King should do this, nor might he understand wherefore this hatred\nwas come so lately. He is put in the prison so as the King hath\ncommanded.  All they of the court are sorry thereof, save Briant and\nhis knights, but well may he yet aby it dear, so God bring Lancelot out\nor prison. Some say, \"Now is the King's court lost, sith that Messire\nGawain and the other knights have thus forsaken it, and Lancelot is put\nin prison for doing well, ill trust may the others have therein.\"\n\nThey pray God yet grant Briant of the Isles an evil guerdon, for well\nknow they that all this is of his procurement.  And of an evil guerdon\nshall he not fail so God protect Lancelot and bring him forth of prison.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XXXI.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nThereupon the story is silent of Lancelot, and cometh back to Perceval\nthat had not heard these tidings, and if he had known them, right\nsorrowful would he have been thereof.  He is departed from his uncle's\ncastle that he hath reconquered, and was sore grieved of the tidings\nthat the damsel that was wounded brought him of his sister that Aristor\nhad carried away by force to the house of a vavasour.  He was about to\ntake her to wife and cut off her head on the day of the New Year, for\nsuch was his custom with all them that he took.  Perceval rideth one\nday, all heavy in thought, and taketh his way as fast as he may toward\nthe hermitage of his uncle King Hermit.  He is come thither on an\neventide, and seeth three hermits issued forth of the hermitage. He\nalighteth and goeth to meet them so soon as he seeth them.\n\n\"Sir,\" say the hermits, \"Enter not in, for they are laying out a body\nthere.\"\n\n\"Who is it?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Sir,\" say the hermits, \"It is the good King Pelles that Aristor slew\nsuddenly after mass on account of one of his nephews, Perceval, whom he\nloveth not, and a damsel is laying out the body there within.\"\n\nWhen Perceval heard the news or his uncle that is dead, thereof was he\nright grieved at heart, and on the morrow was he at his uncle's burial.\nWhen mass was sung, Perceval would have departed, as he that had great\ndesire to take vengeance on him that had done him such shame.\n\n\nII.\n\nThereupon behold you the damsel that is his.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Full long time have I been seeking you. Behold here\nthe head of a knight that I carry hanging at the bow of my saddle, in\nthis rich casket of ivory that you may see, and by none ought he to be\navenged but by you alone.  Discharge me thereof, fair Sir, of your\ncourtesy, for I have carried it too long a time, and this King Arthur\nknoweth well and Messire Gawain, for each hath seen me at court along\nwith the head, but they could give me no tidings of you, and my castle\nmay I not have again until such time as he be avenged.\"\n\n\"Who, then, was the knight, damsel?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Sir, he was son of your uncle Bruns Brandalis, and were he on live,\nwould have been one of the best knights in the world.\"\n\n\"And who slew him, damsel?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Sir, the Knight of the Deep Forest that leadeth the lion, foully in\ntreason there where he thought him safe.  For had he been armed in like\nmanner as was the other, he would not have slain him.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" said Perceval, \"This grieveth me that he hath slain him, and\nit grieveth me likewise of mine uncle King Hermit, whom I would avenge\nmore willingly than all the men in the world, for he was slain on my\naccount.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\n\"Most disloyal was this knight, and foully was he fain to avenge him\nwhen he slew a holy man, a hermit that never wished him ill on account\nof me and of none other.  Right glad shall I be and I may find the\nknight, and so, methinketh, will he be of me, for me he hateth as much\nas I do him, as I have been told, and Lord God grant, howsoever he may\ntake it, that I may find him betimes.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"So outrageous a knight is he that no knight\nis there in the world so good but he thinketh himself of more worth\nthan he, and sith that he hateth you with a will, and he knew that you\nwere here, you and another, or you the third, he would come now at\nonce, were he in place and free.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Perceval, \"God give him mischief of his coming, come\nwhensoever he may!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"The Deep Forest there, where the Red Knight leadeth\nthe lion, is towards the castle of Aristor, and, or ever you come by\nadventure into the forest, you may well hear some tidings of him!\"\n\n\n\nBRANCH XXXII.\n\nINCIPIT.\n\nHere beginneth the last branch of the Graal in the name of the Father,\nand of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.\n\n\nTITLE I.\n\nThe story saith that Perceval went his way through the forest. He saw\npass before him two squires, and each carried a wild deer trussed\nbehind him that had been taken by hounds.  Perceval cometh to them a\ngreat pace and maketh them abide.\n\n\"Lords,\" saith he, \"Whither will you carry this venison?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" say the squires, \"To the castle of Ariste, whereof Aristor is\nlord.\"\n\n\"Is there great throng of knights at the castle?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Sir,\" say the squires, \"Not a single one is there, but within four\ndays will be a thousand there, for Messire is about to marry, whereof\nis great preparation toward.  He is going to take the daughter of the\nWidow Lady, whom he carried off by force before her castle of Camelot,\nand hath set her in the house of one of his vavasours until such time\nas he shall espouse her. But we are right sorrowful, for she is of most\nnoble lineage and of great beauty and of the most worth in the world.\nSo is it great dole that he shall have her, for he will cut her head\noff on the day of the New Year, sith that such is his custom.\"\n\n\"And one might carry her off,\" saith Perceval, \"would he not do well\ntherein?\"\n\n\"Yea, Sir!\" say the squires, \"Our Lord God would be well pleased\nthereof, for such cruelty is the greatest that ever any knight may\nhave.  Moreover, he is much blamed of a good hermit that he hath slain,\nand every day desireth he to meet the brother of the damsel he is about\nto take, that is one of the best knights in the world.  And he saith\nthat he would slay him more gladly than ever another knight on live.\"\n\n\"And where is your lord?\" saith Perceval, \"Can you give me witting?\"\n\n\"Yea, Sir,\" say the squires, \"We parted from him but now in this\nforest, where he held melly with a knight that seemeth us to be right\nworshipful and valiant, and saith that he hath for name the Knight\nHardy.  And for that he told Aristor that he was a knight of Perceval's\nand of his fellowship, he ran upon him, and then commanded us to come\non, and said that he should vanquish him incontinent.  We could still\nhear just now the blows of the swords yonder where we were in the\nforest, and Aristor is of so cruel conditions that no knight may pass\nthrough this forest, but he is minded to slay him.\"\n\n\nII.\n\nWhen Perceval heard these tidings, he departed from the squires, and so\nsoon as they were out of sight he goeth as great pace thither as they\nhad come thence.  He had ridden half a league Welsh when he heard the\nbuffets they were dealing one another on the helm with their swords,\nand right well pleased was he for that the Knight Hardy held so long\ntime melly with Aristor in whom is there so much cruelty and felony.\nBut Perceval knew not to what mischief the Knight Hardy had been\nwounded through the body of a spear, so that the blood rayed out on all\nsides; and Aristor had not remained whole, for he was wounded in two\nplaces. So soon as Perceval espied them, he smiteth his horse of his\nspurs, lance in rest, and smiteth Aristor right through the breast with\nsuch force that he maketh him lose his stirrups and lie down backwards\nover the hinder bow of the saddle.  After that saith he: \"I am come to\nmy sister's wedding, of right ought it not to be made without me.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nAristor, that was full hardy, set himself again betwixt the bows of the\nsaddle in great wrath when he seeth Perceval, and cometh towards him\nlike as if he were wood mad, sword in hand, and dealeth him such a\nbuffet on the helm as that it is all dinted in thereby.  The Knight\nHardy draweth back when he seeth Perceval, for he is wounded to the\ndeath through the body.  He had held the stout so long time that he\ncould abide no more.  But or ever he departed, he had wounded Aristor\nin two places right grievously. Perceval felt the blow that was heavy,\nand that his helmet was dinted in.  He cometh back to Aristor and\nsmiteth him so passing strongly that he thrusteth the spear right\nthrough his body and overthroweth him and his horse all of a heap.\nThen he alighteth over him and taketh off the coif of his habergeon and\nunlaceth his ventail.\n\n\"What have you in mind to do?\" said Aristor.\n\n\"I will cut off your head,\" said Perceval, \"and present it to my sister\nwhom you have failed.\"\n\n\"Do not so!\" saith Aristor, \"But let me live, and I will forgo my\nhatred.\"\n\n\"Your hatred might I well abide henceforward, meseemeth,\" saith\nPerceval, \"But one may not abide you any longer, for well have you\ndeserved this, and God willeth not to bear with you.\"\n\nHe smiteth off his head incontinent and hangeth it at his saddle-bow,\nand cometh to the Knight Hardy, and asketh him how it is with him.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"I am very nigh my death, but I comfort me much of\nthis that I see you tofore I die.\"\n\nPerceval is remounted on his horse, then taketh his spear and leaveth\nthe body of the knight in the midst of the launde, and so departeth\nforthwith and leadeth the Knight Hardy to a hermitage that was hard by\nthere, and lifteth him down of his horse as speedily as he may.  After\nthat, he disarmed him and made him confess to the hermit, and when he\nwas shriven of his sins and repentant, and his soul had departed, he\nmade him be enshrouded of the damsel that followed him, and bestowed\nhis arms and his horse on the hermit for his soul, and the horse of\nAristor likewise.\n\n\nIV.\n\nWhen mass had been sung for the knight that was dead, and the body\nburied, Perceval departed.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel that followed him, \"Even now have you much to\ndo.  Of this cruel knight and felonous you have avenged this country.\nNow, God grant you find betimes the Red Knight that slew your uncle's\nson.  I doubt not but that you will conquer him, but great misgiving\nhave I of the lion, for it is the cruellest beast that saw I ever, and\nhe so loveth his lord and his horse as never no beast loved another so\nmuch, and he helpeth his lord right hardily to defend him.\"\n\n\nV.\n\nPerceval goeth toward the great Deep Forest without tarrying, and the\ndamsel after.  But, or ever he came thither, he met a knight that was\nwounded right sore, both he and his horse.\n\n\"Ha, Sir,\" saith he to Perceval, \"Enter not into this forest, whence I\nhave scarce escaped with much pains.  For therein is a knight that had\nmuch trouble of rescuing me from his lion; and no less am I in dread to\npass on forward, for there is a knight that is called Aristor, that\nwithout occasion runneth upon the knights that pass through the forest.\"\n\n\"Of him,\" saith the damsel, \"need you have no fear, for you may see his\nhead hanging at the knight's saddle-bow.\"\n\n\nVI.\n\n\"Certes,\" saith the knight, \"Never yet was I so glad of any tidings I\nhave heard, and well know I that he that slew him is not lacking of\ngreat hardiment.\"\n\nThe knight departeth from Perceval, but the lion had wounded his horse\nso passing sore in the quarters that scarce could he go.\n\n\"Sir Knight,\" saith Perceval, \"Go to the hermit in the Deep Forest, and\nsay I bade him give you the destrier I left with him, for well I see\nthat you have sore need thereof, and you may repay him in some other\nmanner, for rather would he have something else than the horse.\"\n\nThe knight goeth him much thanks of this that he saith.  He cometh to\nthe hermit the best he may, and telleth him according as he had been\ncharged, and the hermit biddeth him take which destrier he will for the\nlove of the knight that had slain the evil-doer, that did so many evil\ndeeds in this forest.\n\n\"And I will lend you them both twain if you will.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"I ask but for one of them.\"\n\nHe taketh Aristor's horse, that seemed him the better, and straightway\nmounteth thereon, and abandoneth his own, that might go no further.  He\ntaketh leave of the hermit, and telleth him he will right well repay\nhim, but better had it befallen him and he had not taken the horse, for\nthereof was he slain without reason thereafter.  A knight that was of\nthe household of Aristor overtook him at the corner of the forest, and\nknew his lord's horse and had heard tell that Aristor was dead,\nwherefore he went into the forest to bury him.  He smote the knight\nthrough the body with his spear and so slew him, then took the horse\nand went away forthwith.  But, had Perceval known thereof, he would\nhave been little glad, for that he asked the knight to go for the\nhorse, but he did it only for the best, and for that he rode in great\nmisease.\n\n\nVII.\n\nPerceval goeth toward the Deep Forest, that is full broad and long and\nevil seeming, and when he was entered in he had scarce ridden a space\nwhen he espied the lion that lay in the midst of a launde under a tree\nand was waiting for his master, that was gone afar into the forest, and\nthe lion well knew that just there was the way whereby knights had to\npass, and therefore had abided there.  The damsel draweth her back for\nfear, and Perceval goeth toward the lion that had espied him already,\nand came toward him, eyes on fire and jaws yawning wide.  Perceval\naimeth his spear and thinketh to smite him in his open mouth, but the\nlion swerved aside and he caught him in the fore-leg and so dealt him a\ngreat wound, but the lion seizeth the horse with his claws on the\ncroup, and rendeth the skin and the flesh above the tail.  The horse,\nthat feeleth himself wounded, catcheth him with his two hinder feet or\never he could get away, so passing strongly that he breaketh the\nmaster-teeth in his jaw.  The lion gave out a roar so loud that all the\nforest resounded thereof.  The Red Knight heareth his lion roar, and so\ncometh thither a great gallop, but, or ever he was come thither,\nPerceval had slain the lion.  When the knight saw his lion dead, right\nsorry was he thereof.\n\n\"By my head,\" saith he to Perceval, \"When you slew my lion you did it\nas a traitor!\"\n\n\"And you,\" saith Perceval, \"adjudged your own death when you slew my\nuncle's son, whose head this damsel beareth.\"\n\nPerceval cometh against him without more words, and the knight in like\nmanner with a great rushing, and breaketh his spear upon his shield.\nPerceval smiteth him with such force that he thrusteth his spear right\nthrough his body and beareth him to the ground dead beside his horse.\nPerceval alighteth of his own when he hath slain the knight, and then\nmounteth him on the Red Knight's horse for that his own might carry him\nno longer.\n\n\nVIII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"My castle is in the midst of this forest,\nthat the Red Knight reft away from me long ago.  I pray you now come\nwith me thither that I may be assured thereof in such sort as that I\nmay have it again wholly.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Perceval, \"This have I no right to deny you.\"\n\nThey ride amidst the forest so long as that they come to the castle\nwhere the damsel ought to be.  It stood in the fairest place of all the\nforest, and was enclosed of high Walls battlemented, and within were\nfair-windowed halls.  The tidings were come to the castle that their\nlord was dead.  Perceval and the damsel entered in.  He made the damsel\nbe assured of them that were therein, and made them yield up her castle\nthat they well knew was hers of right inheritance.  The damsel made the\nhead be buried that she had carried so long, and bade that every day\nshould mass be done within for the soul of him.  When Perceval had\nsojourned therein as long as pleased him, he departed thence.  The\ndamsel thanked him much of the bounty he had done her as concerning the\ncastle that she had again by him, for never again should it be\nreconquered of another, as well she knew.\n\n\nIX.\n\nJosephus telleth us in the scripture he recordeth for us, whereof this\nhistory was drawn out of Latin into Romance, that none need be in doubt\nthat these adventures befell at that time in Great Britain and in all\nthe other kingdoms, and plenty enow more befell than I record, but\nthese were the most certain.  The history saith that Perceval is come\ninto a hold, there where his sister was in the house of a vavasour that\nwas a right worshipful man.  Each day the damsel made great dole of the\nknight that was to take her, for the day was already drawing somewhat\nnigh, and she knew not that he was dead.  Full often lamented she the\nWidow Lady her mother, that in like sort made great dole for her\ndaughter.  The vavasour comforted the damsel right sweetly and longed\nfor her brother Perceval, but little thought he that he was so near\nhim.  And Perceval is come to the hold all armed, and alighteth at the\nmounting-stage before the hall.  The vavasour cometh to meet him, and\nmarvelleth much who he is, for the more part believed that he was one\nof Aristor's knights.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the vavasour, \"Welcome may you be!\"\n\n\"Good adventure may you have, Sir!\" saith Perceval.  He holdeth\nAristor's head in his hand by the hair, whereof the vavasour marvelled\nmuch that he should carry a knight's head in such-wise. Perceval cometh\nto the master-chamber of the hall, where his sister was, that bewailed\nher right sore.\n\n\nX.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he to his sister, \"Weep not, for your wedding hath\nfailed.  You may know it well by this token!\"\n\nHe throweth the head of Aristor before her on the ground, then saith\nunto her: \"Behold here the head of him that was to take you!\"\n\nThe damsel heareth Perceval her brother that was armed, and thereby she\nknoweth him again.  She leapeth up and maketh him the greatest joy that\never damsel made to knight.  She knoweth not what to do.  So joyful is\nshe, that all have pity on her that see her of her weeping for the joy\nthat she maketh of her brother. The story saith that they sojourned\ntherewithin and that the vavasour showed them much honour.  The damsel\nmade cast the knight's head into a river that ran round about the hold.\nThe vavasour was right glad of his death for the great felony that he\nhad in him, and for that needs must the damsel die in less than a year\nand she had espoused him.\n\n\nXI.\n\nWhen Perceval had been therein as long as it pleased him, he thanked\nthe vavasour much of the honour he had done him and his sister, and\ndeparted, he and his sister along with him on the mule whereon she had\nbeen brought thither.  Perceval rode so long on his journeys that he is\ncome to Camelot and findeth his mother in great dole for her daughter\nthat should be Queen, for she thought surely that never should she see\nher more.  Full sorrowful was she moreover of her brother, the King\nHermit that had been killed in such-wise.  Perceval cometh to the\nchamber where his mother was lying and might not stint of making dole.\nHe taketh his sister by the hand and cometh before her.  So soon as she\nknoweth him she beginneth to weep for joy, and kisseth them one after\nthe other.\n\n\"Fair son,\" saith she, \"Blessed be the hour that you were born for by\nyou all my great joy cometh back to me!  Now well may I depart, for I\nhave lived long enow.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"Your life ought to be an offence to none, for to\nnone hath it ever done ill, but, please God, you shall not end in this\nplace, but rather you shall end in the castle that was your cousin's\ngerman, King Fisherman, there where is the most Holy Graal and the\nsacred hallows are.\"\n\n\"Fair son,\" saith she, \"You say well, and there would I fain be.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"God will provide counsel and means whereby you shall\nbe there; and my sister, and she be minded to marry, will we set in\ngood place, where she may live worshipfully.\"\n\n\"Certes, fair brother,\" saith she, \"None shall I never marry, save God\nalone.\"\n\n\"Fair son,\" saith the Widow Lady, \"The Damsel of the Car goeth to seek\nyou, and I shall end not until such time as she hath round you.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"In some place will she have tidings of me and I of\nher.\"\n\n\"Fair son,\" saith the Lady, \"The damsel is here within that the\nfelonous knight wounded through the arm, that carried of your sister,\nbut she is healed.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"I am well avenged.\"\n\nHe telleth her all the adventures until the time when he reconquered\nthe castle that was his uncle's.  He sojourned long time with his\nmother in the castle, and saw that the land was all assured and\npeaceable.  He departed thence and took his leave, for he had not yet\nachieved all that he had to do.  His mother remained long time, and his\nsister, at Camelot, and led a good life and a holy.  The lady made make\na chapel right rich about the sepulchre that lay between the forest and\nCamelot, and had it adorned of rich vestments, and stablished a\nchaplain that should sing mass there every day.  Sithence then hath the\nplace been so builded up as that there is an abbey there and folk of\nreligion, and many bear witness that there it is still, right fair.\nPerceval was departed from Camelot and entered into the great forest,\nand so rode of a long while until he had left his mother's castle far\nbehind, and came toward evening to the hold of a knight that was at the\nhead of the forest.  He harboured him therein, and the knight showed\nhim much honour and made him be unarmed, and brought him a robe to do\non.  Perceval seeth that the knight is a right simple man, and that he\nsigheth from time to time.\n\n\nXII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Meseemeth you are not over joyous.\"\n\n\"Certes, Sir,\" saith the knight, \"I have no right to be, for a certain\nman slew mine own brother towards the Deep Forest not long since, and\nno right have I to be glad, for a worshipful man was he and a loyal.\"\n\n\"Fair Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"Know you who slew him?\"\n\n\"Fair Sir, it was one of Aristor's knights, for that he was sitting\nupon a horse that had been Aristor's, and whereon another knight had\nslain him, and a hermit had lent him to my brother for that the Red\nKnight's lion had maimed his own.\"\n\nPerceval was little glad of these tidings, for that he had sent him\nthat had been slain on account of the horse.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"Your brother had not deserved his death,\nmethinketh, for it was not he that slew the knight.\"\n\n\"No, Sir, I know it all of a truth, but another, that slew the Red\nKnight of the Deep Forest.\"\n\nPerceval was silent thereupon.  He lay the night at the hostel and was\nharboured right well, and on the morrow departed when he had taken\nleave.  He wandered until he came to a hermitage there where he heard\nmass.  After the service, the hermit came unto him and said: \"Sir,\"\nsaith he, \"In this forest are knights all armed that are keeping watch\nfor the knight that slew Aristor and the Red Knight and his lion as\nwell.  Wherefore they meet no knight in this forest but they are minded\nto slay him for the knight that slew these twain.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"God keep me from meeting such folk as would do\nme evil.\"\n\n\nXIII.\n\nWith that he departed from the hermitage and took leave of the hermit,\nand rideth until that he is come into the forest and espieth the knight\nthat sitteth on Aristor's horse for that he hath slain the other\nknight.  A second knight was with him.  They abide when they see\nPerceval.\n\n\"By my head,\" saith one of them, \"This same shield bare he that slew\nAristor, as it was told us, and, like enough, it may be he.\"\n\nThey come toward him, full career.  Perceval seeth them coming, and\nforgetteth not his spurs, but rather cometh against them the speediest\nhe may.  The two knights smote him upon the shield and brake their\nspears.  Perceval overtaketh him that sitteth on Aristor's horse and\nthrusteth an ell's length of his spear through his body and so\noverthroweth him dead.\n\n\nXIV.\n\nAfter that, he cometh to the other knight, that fain would have fled,\nand smiteth off the shoulder close to his side, and he fell dead by the\nside of the other.  He taketh both twain of their destriers, and\nknotteth the reins together and driveth them before him as far as the\nhouse of the hermit, that had issued forth of his hermitage.  He\ndelivered unto him the horse of Aristor and the other of the knight\nthat he had sent thither.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"Well I know that and you shall see any knight\nthat hath need of it and shall ask you, you will lend him one of these\nhorses, for great courtesy is it to aid a worshipful man when one seeth\nhim in misfortune.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"But now since, were here three knights. So\nsoon as they knew that the two were dead whose horses you had delivered\nunto me, they departed, fleeing the speediest they might.  I praised\nthem much of their going, and told them they did well not to die on\nsuch occasion, for that the souls of knights that die under arms are\nnigher to Hell than to Paradise.\"\n\n\nXV.\n\nPerceval, that never was without sore toil and travail so long as he\nlived, departed from the hermitage and went with great diligence right\nthrough the midst of the forest, and met a knight that came a great\ngallop over against him.  He knew Perceval by the shield that he bare.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"I come from the Castle of the Black Hermit, there\nwhere you will find the Damsel of the Car as soon as you arrive,\nwherefore she sendeth you word by me that you speed your way and go to\nher to ask for the chess-board that was taken away from before Messire\nGawain, or otherwise never again will you enter into the castle you\nhave won.  Sir,\" saith he, \"Haste, moreover, on account of a thing most\npitiful that I heard in this forest.  I heard how a knight was leading\na damsel against her will, beating her with a great scourge.  I passed\nby the launde on the one side and he on the other, so that I espied him\nthrough the underwood that was between us; but it seemed me that the\ndamsel was bemoaning her for the son of the Widow Lady that had given\nher back her castle, and the knight said that for love of him he would\nput her into the Serpent's pit.  An old knight and a priest went after\nthe knight to pray him have mercy on the damsel, but so cruel is he,\nthat so far from doing so, he rather waxed sore wroth for that they\nprayed it of him, and made cheer and semblant as though he would have\nslain them.\"\n\nThe knight departed from Perceval and taketh leave and Perceval goeth\nalong the way that the knight had come, thinking that he would go after\nthe damsel for he supposeth certainly that it is she to whom he gave\nback her castle, and would fain know what knight it is that entreateth\nher in such fashion.  He hath ridden until he is come into the deepest\nof the forest and the thickest. He bideth awhile and listeneth and\nheareth the voice of the damsel, that was in a great valley where the\nSerpent's pit was, wherein the knight was minded to set her.  She cried\nright loud for mercy, and wept, and the knight gave her great strokes\nof the scourge to make her be still.  Perceval had no will to tarry\nlonger, but rather cometh thither as fast as he may.\n\n\nXVI.\n\nSo soon as the damsel seeth Perceval, she knoweth him again.  She\nclaspeth her two hands together and saith, \"Ha, Sir, for God's sake\nhave mercy!  Already have you given me back the castle whereof this\nknight would reave me.\"\n\nThe horse whereon Perceval sat, the knight knew him.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"This horse was the horse of Messire the Red Knight of\nthe Deep Forest!  Now at last know I that it was you that slew him!\"\n\n\"It may well be,\" saith Perceval, \"And if that I slew him, good right\nhad I to do so, for he had cut off the head of a son of mine uncle, the\nwhich head this damsel carried of a long time.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith the knight, \"Sith that you slew him, you are my\nmortal enemy!\"\n\nSo he draweth off in the midst of the launde and Perceval likewise, and\nthen they come together as fast as their horses may carry them, and\neither giveth other great buffets in the midst of their breast with\ntheir spears the most they may.  Perceval smiteth the knight so passing\nhard that he overthroweth him to the ground right over the croup of his\nhorse, and in the fall that he made, he to-brake him the master-bone of\nhis leg so that he might not move.  And Perceval alighteth to the\nground and cometh where the knight lay.  And he crieth him mercy that\nhe slay him not.  And Perceval telleth him he need not fear death, nor\nthat he is minded to slay him in such plight as he is, but that like as\nhe was fain to make the damsel do he will make him do.  He maketh\nalight the other old knight and the priest, then maketh the knight be\ncarried to the Pit of the Serpent and the worms, whereof was great\nstore.  The pit was dark and deep.  When that the knight was therein he\nmight not live long for the worms that were there.  The damsel thanked\nPerceval much of this goodness and of the other that he had done her.\nShe departeth and returneth again to her castle, and was assured\ntherein on all sides, nor never thereafter had she dread of no knight,\nfor the cruel justice that Perceval had done on this one.\n\n\nXVII.\n\nThe son of the Widow Lady of his good knighthood knoweth not how to\nlive without travail.  He well knoweth that when he hath been at the\nBlack Hermit's castle, he will in some measure have achieved his task.\nBut many another thing behoveth him to do tofore, and little toil he\nthinketh it, whereof shall God be well pleased.  He hath ridden so far\none day and another, that he came into a land where he met knights\nstout and strong there where God was neither believed in nor loved, but\nwhere rather they adored false images and false Lord-Gods and devils\nthat made themselves manifest.  He met a knight at the entrance of a\nforest.\n\n\"Ha, Sir!\" saith he to Perceval, \"Return you back!  No need is there\nfor you to go further, for the folk of this island are not\nwell-believers in God.  I may not pass through the land but by truce\nonly.  The Queen of this land was sister of the King of Oriande, that\nLancelot killed in the battle and all his folk, and seized his land,\nwherein all the folk were misbelievers.  Now throughout all the land\nthey believe in the Saviour of the World. Thereof is she passing\nsorrowful, and hateth all them that believe in the New Law, insomuch as\nthat she would not look upon any that believed, and prayed to her gods\nthat never might she see none until such time as the New Law should be\noverthrown; and God, that hath power to do this, blinded her forthwith.\nNow she supposeth that the false gods wherein she believeth have done\nthis, and saith that when the New Law shall fall, she will have her\nsight again by the renewal of these gods, and by their virtue, nor,\nuntil this hour, hath she no desire to see.  And I tell you this,\"\nsaith the knight, \"because I would not that you should go thither as\nyet, for that I misdoubt of your being troubled thereby.\"\n\n\"Sir, Gramercy,\" saith Perceval, \"But no knighthood is there so fair as\nthat which is undertaken to set forward the Law of God, and for Him\nought one to make better endeavour than for all other.  In like manner\nas He put His body in pain and travail for us, so ought each to put his\nown for Him.\"\n\nHe departeth from the knight, and was right joyous of this that he\nheard him say that Lancelot had won a kingdom wherein he had done away\nthe false Law.  But and he knew the tidings that the King had put him\nin prison, he would not have been glad at all, for Lancelot was of his\nlineage and was therefore good knight, and for this he loved him right\nwell.\n\n\nXVIII.\n\nPerceval rideth until nightfall, and findeth a great castle fortified\nwith a great drawbridge, and there were tall ancient towers within.  He\nespied at the door a squire that had the weight of a chain on his neck,\nand at the other end the chain was fixed to a great bulk of iron.  The\nchain was as long as the length of the bridge.  Then cometh he over\nagainst Perceval when he seeth him coming.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Meseemeth you believe in God?\"\n\n\"Fair friend, so do I, the best I may.\"\n\n\"Sir, for God's sake, enter not this castle!\"\n\n\"Wherefore, fair friend?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"I will tell you.  I am Christian, even as are you,\nand I am thrall within there and guard this gate, as you see.  But it\nis the most cruel castle that I know, and it is called the Raving\nCastle.  There be three knights within there, full young and comely,\nbut so soon as they see a knight of the New Law, forthwith are they out\nof their senses, and all raving mad, so that nought may endure between\nthem.  Moreover, there is within one of the fairest damsels that saw I\never.  She guardeth the knights so soon as they begin to rave, and so\nmuch they dread her that they durst not disobey her commandment in\naught that she willeth, for many folk would they evilly entreat were it\nnot for her.  And for that I am their thrall they put up with me, and I\nhave no fear of them, but many is the Christian knight that hath come\nin hither that never hath issued hence.\"\n\n\"Fair sweet friend,\" saith Perceval, \"I will enter in thither and I\nmay, for I should not know this day how to go elsewhither, and true it\nis that greater power hath God than the devil.\"\n\nHe entereth into the castle and alighteth in the midst of the courtyard.\n\n\nXIX.\n\nThe damsel was at the windows of the hall, that was of passing great\nbeauty.  She cometh down as soon as she may, and seeth Perceval come in\nand the cross on his shield, and knoweth well thereby that he is\nChristian.\n\n\"Ha, Sir, for God's sake,\" saith she, \"Come not up above, for there be\nthree of the comeliest knights that ever were seen that are playing at\ntables and at dice in a chamber, and they are brothers-german.  They\nwill all go out of their senses so soon as they shall see you!\"\n\n\nXX.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Perceval, \"Please God, so shall they not, and such a\nmiracle is good to see, for it is only right that all they who will not\nbelieve in God should be raving mad when they see the things that come\nof Him.\"\n\nPerceval goeth up into the hall, all armed, for all that the damsel\nsaith.  She followeth him as fast as she may.  The three knights espied\nPerceval all armed and the cross on his shield, and forthwith leapt up\nand were beside themselves.  They rolled their eyes and tore themselves\nand roared like devils.  There were axes and swords in the hall that\nthey go to lay hold on, and they are fain to leap upon Perceval, but no\npower have they to do so, for such was the will of God.  When they saw\nthat they might not come a-nigh him, they ran either on other and so\nslew themselves between them, nor would they stint their fighting\ntogether for the damsel.  Perceval beheld the miracle of these folks\nthat were thus killed, and the damsel that made right great dole\nthereof.\n\n\"Ha, damsel,\" saith he, \"Weep not, but repent you of this false belief,\nfor they that are unwilling to believe in God shall die like mad folks\nand devils!\"\n\nPerceval made the squires that were there within bear the bodies out of\nthe hall, and made them be cast into a running water, and straightway\nslew all the other, for that they were not minded to believe.  The\ncastle was all emptied of the misbelieving folk save only the damsel\nand those that waited upon her, and the Christian thrall that guarded\nthe gate.  Perceval set him forth of the chain, then led him up into\nthe hall and made him disarm him.  He found sundry right rich robes.\nThe damsel, that was of right great beauty, looked at him and saw that\nhe was a full comely knight, and well pleased she was with him.  She\nhonoured him in right great sort, but she might not forget the three\nknights that were her brothers, and made sore dole for them.\n\n\nXXI.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Perceval, \"Nought availeth it to make this dole, but\ntake comfort on some other manner.\"\n\nPerceval looked at the hall from one end to the other and saw that it\nwas right rich, and the damsel, in whom was full great beauty, stinted\nof making dole to look at Perceval.  She seeth that he is comely knight\nand gentle and tall and well furnished of good conditions, wherefore he\npleaseth her much, and forthwith beginneth she to love him, and saith\nto herself that, so he would leave his God for the god in whom she\nbelieved, right glad would she be thereof, and would make him lord of\nher castle, for it seemed her that better might she not bestow it, and\nsith that her brothers are dead, there may be no bringing of them back,\nand therefore better would it be to forget her dole.  But little knew\nshe Perceval's thought, for had she known that which he thinketh, she\nwould have imagined not this; for, and had she been Christian he might\nnot have been drawn to love her in such sort as she thinketh, sith that\nJosephus telleth us that never did he lose his virginity for woman, but\nrather died virgin and chaste and clean of his body.  In this mind was\nshe still, nor never might she refrain her heart from him.  Thinketh\nshe rather that, and he knew she was minded to love him, right joyous\nwould he be thereof, for that she is of so passing beauty.  Perceval\nasketh the damsel what she hath in her thought?\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Nought think I but only good and you will.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Perceval, \"Never, please God, shall there be hindrance\nof me but that you renounce this evil Law and believe in the good.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Do you renounce yours for love of me, and I will do\nyour commandment and your will.\"\n\n\nXXII.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Perceval, \"Nought availeth to tell me this.  Were you\nman like as you are woman, your end would have come with the others.\nBut, please God, your tribulation shall tend itself to good.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"So you are willing to promise me that you will love\nme like as knight ought to love damsel, I am well inclined to believe\nin your God.\"\n\n\"Damsel, I promise you as I am a Christian that so you are willing to\nreceive baptism, I will love you as he that firmly believeth in God\nought to love damsel.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I ask no more of you.\"\n\nShe biddeth send for a holy man, a hermit that was in the forest\nappurtenant, and right gladly came he when he heard the tidings. They\nheld her up and baptized her, both her and her damsels with her.\nPerceval held her at the font.  Josephus witnesseth us in this history\nthat she had for name Celestre.  And great joy made she of her baptism,\nand her affections turned she unto good.  The hermit remained there\nwith her, and taught her to understand the firm believe, and did the\nservice of Our Lord.  The damsel was of right good life and right holy,\nand ended thereafter in many good works.\n\n\nXXIII.\n\nPerceval departed from the castle, and gave thanks to Our Lord and\npraise, that He hath allowed him to conquer a castle so cruel and to\nattorn it to the Law.  He went his way a great pace, all armed, until\nhe came into a country wherein was great grief being made, and the more\npart said that he was come that should destroy their Law, for that\nalready had he won their strongest castle. He is come towards an\nancient castle that was at the head of a forest.  He looketh and seeth\nat the entrance of the gateway a full great throng of folk.  He seeth a\nsquire come forth thence, and asketh him unto whom belongeth the castle.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"It is Queen Jandree's, that hath made her be brought\nbefore her gate with the folk you see yonder, for she hath heard tell\nhow the knights of the Raving Castle are dead, and another knight that\nhath conquered the castle hath made the damsel be baptized, wherefore\nmuch she marvelleth how this may be.  She is in much dread of losing\nher land, for her brother Madeglant of Oriande is dead, so that she may\nno longer look to none for succour, and she hath been told how the\nknight that conquered the Raving Castle is the Best Knight of the\nWorld, and that none may endure against him.  For this doubtance and\nfear of him she is minded to go to one of her own castles that is\nsomewhat stronger.\"\n\nPerceval departeth from the squire and rideth until they that were at\nthe entrance of the gateway espied him.  They saw the Red Cross that he\nbare on his shield, and said to the Queen, \"Lady, a Christian knight is\ncoming into this castle.\"\n\n\"Take heed,\" saith she, \"that it be not he that is about to overthrow\nour Law!\"\n\nPerceval cometh thither and alighteth, and cometh before the Queen all\narmed.  The Queen asketh what he seeketh.\n\n\nXXIV.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"Nought seek I save good only to yourself so you\nhinder it not.\"\n\n\"You come,\" saith she, \"from the Raving Castle, there where three\nbrothers are slain, whereof is great loss.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"At that castle was I, and now fain would I that your\nown were at the will of Jesus Christ, in like manner as is that.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith she, \"And your Lord hath so great power as is said,\nso will it be.\"\n\n\"Lady, His virtue and His puissance are far greater than they say.\"\n\n\"That would I fain know,\" saith she, \"presently, and I am fain to pray\nyou that you depart not from me until that it hath been proven.\"\n\nPerceval granteth it gladly.  She returned into her castle and Perceval\nwith her.  When he was alighted he went up into the hall.  They that\nwere within marvelled them much that she should thus give consent, for\nnever, sithence that she had been blind, might she allow no knight of\nthe New Law to be so nigh her, and made slay all them that came into\nher power, nor might she never see clear so long as she had one of them\nbefore her.  Now is her disposition altered in such sort as that she\nwould fain she might see clear him that hath come in, for she hath been\ntold that he is the comeliest knight of the world and well seemeth to\nbe as good as they witness of him.\n\n\nXXV.\n\nPerceval remained there gladly for that he saw the lady's cruelty was\nsomewhat slackened, and it seemed him that it would be great joy and\nshe were willing to turn to God, and they that are within there, for\nwell he knoweth that so she should hold to the New Law, all they of the\nland would be of the same mind.  When Perceval had lain the night at\nthe castle, the Lady on the morrow sent for all the more powerful of\nher land, and came forth of her chamber into the hall where Perceval\nwas, seeing as clear as ever she had seen aforetime.\n\n\"Lords,\" saith she, \"Hearken ye all, for now will I tell you the truth\nlike as it hath befallen me.  I was lying in my bed last night, and\nwell know ye that I saw not a whit, and made my orisons to our gods\nthat they would restore me my sight.  It seemed me they made answer\nthat they had no power so to do, but that I should make be slain the\nknight that was arrived here, and that and I did not, sore wroth would\nthey be with me.  And when I had heard their voices say that nought\nmight they avail me as for that I had prayed of them, I remembered me\nof the Lord in whom they that hold the New Law believe.  And I prayed\nHim right sweetly that, and so it were that He had such virtue and such\npuissance as many said, He would make me see clear, so as that I might\nbelieve in Him.  At that hour I fell on sleep, and meseemed that I saw\none of the fairest Ladies in the world, and she was delivered of a\nChild therewithin, and He had about Him a great brightness of light\nlike it were the sun shone at right noonday.\"\n\n\nXXVI.\n\n\"When the Child was born, so passing fair was He and so passing gentle\nand of so sweet semblant that the looks of Him pleased me well; and\nmeseemed that at His deliverance there was a company of folk the\nfairest that were seen ever, and they were like as it had been birds\nand made full great joy.  And methought that an ancient man that was\nwith Her, told me that My Lady had lost no whit of her maidenhood for\nthe Child.  Well pleased was I the while this thing lasted me.  It\nseemed me that I saw it like as I do you.  Thereafter, methought I saw\na Man bound to a stake, in whom was great sweetness and humility, and\nan evil folk beat Him with scourges and rods right cruelly, so that the\nblood ran down thereof.  They would have no mercy on Him.  Of this\nmight I not hold myself but that I wept for pity of Him.  Therewithal I\nawoke and marvelled much whence it should come and what it might be.\nBut in anyway it pleased me much that I had seen it.  It seemed me\nafter this, that I saw the same Man that had been bound to the stake\nset upon a cross, and nailed thereon right grievously and smitten in\nthe side with a spear, whereof had I such great pity that needs must I\nweep of the sore pain that I saw Him suffer.  I saw the Lady at the\nfeet of the cross, and knew her again that I had seen delivered of the\nChild, but none might set in writing the great dole that she made.  On\nthe other side of the cross was a man that seemed not joyful, but he\nrecomforted the Lady the fairest he might.  And another folk were there\nthat collected His blood in a most holy Vessel that one of them held\nfor it.\"\n\n\nXXVII.\n\n\"Afterward, methought I saw Him taken down of hanging on the cross, and\nset in a sepulchre of stone.  Thereof had I great pity for, so long as\nmeseemed I saw Him thus never might I withhold me from weeping.  And so\nsoon as the pity came into my heart, and the tears into my eyes, I had\nmy sight even as you see.  In such a Lord as this ought one to believe,\nfor He suffered death when He might lightly have avoided it had He so\nwilled, but He did it to save His people.  In this Lord I will that ye\nall believe, and so renounce our false gods, for they be devils and\ntherefore may not aid us nor avail us.  And he that will not believe,\nhim will I make be slain or die a shameful death.\"\n\nThe Lady made her be held up and baptized, and all them that would not\ndo the same she made be destroyed and banished.  This history telleth\nus that her name was Salubre.  She was good lady and well believed in\nGod, and so holy life led she thereafter that in a hermitage she died.\nPerceval departed from the castle right joyous in his heart of the Lady\nand her people that believed in the New Law.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XXXIII.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nAfterward, this title telleth us that Meliot of Logres was departed\nfrom Castle Perilous sound and whole, by virtue of the sword that\nLancelot had brought him, and of the cloth that he took in the Chapel\nPerilous.  But sore sorrowful was he of the tidings he had heard that\nMessire Gawain was in prison and he knew not where, but he had been\nborne on hand that two knights that were kinsmen of them of the Raving\nCastle that had slain one another, had shut him in prison on account of\nPerceval that had won the castle.  Now, saith Meliot of Logres, never\nshall he have ease again until he knoweth where Messire Gawain is.  He\nrideth amidst a forest, and prayeth God grant him betimes to hear\nwitting of Messire Gawain.  The forest was strange and gloomy. He rode\nuntil nightfall but might not find neither hold nor hermitage.  He\nlooketh right amidst the forest before him and seeth a damsel sitting\nthat bemoaneth herself full sore.  The moon was dark and the place\nright foul of seeming and the forest gloomy of shadow.\n\n\"Ha, damsel, and what do you here at this hour?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I may not amend it, the more is my sorrow. For the\nplace is more perilous than you think.  Look,\" saith she, \"up above,\nand you will see the occasion wherefore I am here.\"\n\nMeliot looketh and seeth two knights all armed hanging up above the\ndamsel's head.  Thereof much marvelleth he.\n\n\"Ha, damsel,\" saith he, \"Who slew these knights so foully?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"The Knight of the Galley that singeth in the sea.\"\n\n\"And wherefore hath he hanged them in such wise?\"\n\n\"For this,\" saith she, \"that they believed in God and His sweet Mother.\nAnd so behoveth me to watch them here for forty days, that none take\nthem down of hanging, for and they were taken hence he would lose his\ncastle, he saith, and would cut off my head.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Meliot, \"Such watch is foul shame to damsel, and no\nlonger shall you remain here.\"\n\n\"Ha, Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"Then shall I be a dead woman, for he is\nof so great cruelty that none scarce might protect me against him.\"\n\n\nII.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Meliot, \"Foul shame would it be and I left here these\nknights in such wise for the reproach of other knights.\"\n\nMeliot made them graves with his sword, and so buried them the best he\nmight.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"And you take not thought to protect me, the\nknight will slay me.  To-morrow, when he findeth not the knights, he\nwill search all the forest to look for me.\"\n\nMeliot and the damsel together go their way through the forest until\nthey come to a chapel where was wont to be a hermit that the Knight of\nthe Galley had destroyed.  He helpeth down the damsel of his horse, and\nafterward they entered into the chapel, where was a great brightness of\nlight, and a damsel was there that kept watch over a dead knight.\nMeliot marvelleth him much.\n\n\"Damsel,\" said Meliot, \"When was this knight killed?\"\n\n\"Sir, yesterday the Knight of the Galley slew him on the seashore,\nwherefore behoveth me thus keep watch, and in the morning will he come\nhither or ever he go to the castle where Messire Gawain hath to-morrow\nto fight with a lion, all unarmed, and my Lady, that is mistress both\nof me and of this damsel you have brought hither, will likewise be\nbrought to-morrow to the place where the lion is to slay Messire\nGawain, and she in like sort will be afterward delivered to the lion\nand she renounce not the New Law wherein the knight that came from\nRaving Castle, whereof she is lady, hath made her believe; and we\nourselves shall be in like manner devoured along with her.  But this\ndamsel would still have taken respite of my death and she had still\nkept guard over the knights that were so foully hanged above her.\nNatheless, sith that you have taken them down from where they were\nhanging, you have done a right good deed, whatsoever betide, for the\nLord of the Red Tower will give his castle to the knight for this.\"\n\nMeliot is right joyous of the tidings that he hath heard of Messire\nGawain that he is still on live, for well knoweth he, sith that the\nKnight of the Galley will come by the chapel there, that he will come\nthither or ever Messire Gawain doth battle with the lion.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the damsel of the chapel, \"For God's sake, take this\ndamsel to a place of safety, for the knight will be so wood mad of\nwrath and despite so soon as he cometh hither, that he will be fain to\nsmite off her head forthwith, and of yourself also have I great fear.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Meliot, \"The knight is but a man like as am I.\"\n\n\"Yea, Sir, but stronger is he and more cruel than seem you to be.\"\n\nMeliot was in the chapel the night until the morrow, and heard the\nknight coming like a tempest, and he brought with him the lady of the\ncastle and reviled her from time to time, and Meliot seeth him come,\nand a dwarf that followeth after him a great pace.  He crieth out to\nhim: \"Sir, behold there the disloyal knight through whom you have lost\nyour castle.  Now haste! Avenge yourself of him!  After that will we go\nto the death of Messire Gawain?\"\n\nMeliot, so soon as he espieth him, mounteth and maketh his arms ready.\n\n\"Is it you,\" saith the Knight of the Galley, \"that hath trespassed on\nmy demesne and taken down my knights?\"\n\n\"By my head, yours were they not!  Rather were they the knights of God,\nand foul outrage have you done herein when you slew them so shamefully.\"\n\nHe goeth toward the knight without more words, and smiteth him so\npassing strong amidst the breast that he pierceth the habergeon and\nthrusteth all the iron of his spear into his body and afterward draweth\nit back to him with a great wrench.  And the knight smiteth him so hard\non his shield that he maketh an ell's length pass beyond, for right\nwroth was he that he was wounded. The dwarf crieth to him, \"Away, then!\nThe knight endureth against you that have slain so many of them!\"\n\nThe Knight of the Galley waxeth wood wrath.  He taketh his career, and\ncometh as fast as his horse may carry him, and smiteth Meliot so\nstrongly that he breaketh his spear in such sort that he maketh both\nhim and his horse stagger.  But Meliot catcheth him better, for he\nthrusteth the spear right through his body and hurleth against him at\nthe by-passing with such stoutness and force that he maketh him fall\ndead to the ground from his horse.  The dwarf thought to escape, but\nMeliot smote off his head, whereof the damsels gave him great thanks,\nfor many a mischief had he wrought them.\n\n\nIV.\n\nMeliot buried the knight that he found in the chapel dead, then told\nthe damsels that he might abide no longer, but would go succour Messire\nGawain and he might.  The damsels were horsed to their will, for one\nhad the horse of the knight that was slain and the other the horse of\nthe dwarf.  The other damsel was come upon a mule, and they said that\nthey would go back, for the country was made all safe by the death of\nthe knight.  They thanked Meliot much, for they say truly that he hath\nrescued them from death.  Meliot departeth from the damsels and goeth\nright amidst the forest as he that would most fain hear tidings of\nMessire Gawain.  When he had ridden of a long space, he met a knight\nthat was coming all armed at great pace.\n\n\"Sir Knight,\" saith he to Meliot, \"Can you tell me tidings of the\nKnight of the Galley?\"\n\n\"What have you to do therein?\" saith Meliot.\n\n\"Sir, the Lord of the Red Tower hath made bring Messire Gawain into a\nlaunde of this forest, and there, all unarmed, must he do battle with a\nlion.  So my lord is waiting for the Knight of the Galley, that is to\nbring two damsels thither that the lion will devour when he shall have\nslain Messire Gawain.\"\n\n\"Will the battle be presently?\" saith Meliot.\n\n\"Yea, Sir,\" saith the knight, \"Soon enough betimes, for Messire Gawain\nhath already been led thither and there bound to a stake until such\ntime as the lion shall be come.  Then will he be unbound, but even then\ntwo knights all armed will keep watch on him.  But tell me tidings of\nthe Knight of the Galley, and you have seen him?\"\n\n\"Go forward,\" saith he, \"and you will hear tidings of him.\"\n\nMeliot departeth thereupon, a great gallop, and cometh nigh the launde\nwhereunto Messire Gawain had been brought.  He espied the two knights\nthat kept guard over him, and if that Messire Gawain were in fear,\nlittle marvel was it, for he thought that his end had come.  Meliot\nespied him bound to an iron staple with cords about the body on all\nsides so that he might not move.  Meliot hath great pity thereof in his\nheart, and saith to himself that he will die there sooner than Messire\nGawain shall die.  He clappeth spurs to his horse when he cometh nigh\nthe knights, and overtaketh one of them with such a rush that he\nthrusteth his spear right through his body, and beareth him down dead.\nThe other was fain to go to the castle for succour when he saw his\nfellow dead.  Meliot slew him forthwith.  He cometh to Messire Gawain,\nand so unbindeth him and cutteth the cords wherewith he is bound.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"I am Meliot of Logres, your knight.\"\n\n\nV.\n\nWhen Messire Gawain felt himself unbound, no need to ask whether he had\njoy thereof.  The tidings were come to the Red Court that Queen Jandree\nwas christened and baptized, and that the Knight was come that had such\nforce and puissance in him that none might endure against him for the\nGod in whom he believed, and they knew likewise that the Knight of the\nGalley was dead, and Messire Gawain unbound and the knights that\nguarded him slain.  They say that there may they not abide, so they\ndepart from the castle and say that they will cross the sea to protect\ntheir bodies, for that there they may have no safety.\n\n\nVI.\n\nWhen Meliot had delivered Messire Gawain he made him be armed with the\narms, such as they were, of one of the knights he had slain.  Messire\nGawain mounted on a horse such as pleased him, and right great joy had\nhe at heart.  They marvel much how it is that they of the castle have\nnot come after them, but they know not their thought nor how they are\nscared.\n\n\"Meliot,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"You have delivered me from death this\ntime and one other, nor never had I acquaintance with any knight that\nhath done so much for me in so short a time as have you.\"\n\nThey departed the speediest they might and rode nigh enow to the\ncastle, but they heard none moving within nor any noise, nor saw they\nnone issue forth, and much marvelled they that none should come after\nthem.  They rode until they came to the head of the forest and caught\nsight of the sea that was nigh enough before them, and saw that there\nwas a great clashing of arms at the brink of the sea.  A single knight\nwas doing battle with all them that would fain have entered into a\nship, and held stour so stiffly against them that he toppled the more\npart into the sea. They went thither as fast as they might, and when\nthey drew nigh to the ship they knew that it was Perceval by his arms\nand his shield.  Or ever they reached it, the ship was put off into the\nmidst of the sea, wherein he was launched of his own great hardiment,\nand they went on fighting against him within the ship.\n\n\"Meliot,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"See you, there is Perceval the Good\nKnight, and now may we say of a truth that he is in sore peril of\ndeath; for that ship, save God bethink Him thereof, shall arrive in\nsuch manner and in such a place as that never more shall we have no\nwitting of him, and, so he perish for ever, no knight on live may have\npower to set forward the Law of our Lord.\"\n\n\nVII.\n\nMessire Gawain seeth the ship going further away, and Perceval that\ndefendeth himself therein against them that set upon him. Right heavy\nis he that he came not sooner, or ever the ship had put off from the\nland.  He turneth back, he and Meliot together, and right sorrowful was\nMessire Gawain of Perceval, for they knew not in what land he might\narrive, and, might he have followed, right gladly would he have gone\nafter him to aid him.  They have ridden until they meet a knight.\nMessire Gawain asketh him whence he cometh, and he saith from King\nArthur's court.\n\n\"What tidings can you tell us thereof?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Sir, bad enough!\" saith he.  \"King Arthur hath neglected all his\nknights for Briant of the Isles, and hath put one of his best knights\nin prison.\"\n\n\"What is his name?\" saith Messire Gawain.\n\n\"Sir, he is called Lancelot of the Lake.  He had reconquered all the\nislands that had been reft of King Arthur, and slain King Madeglant,\nand conquered the land of Oriande that he turned to the belief of the\nSaviour of the World, and, so soon as he had conquered his enemies,\nKing Arthur sent for him forthwith and straightway put him in his\nprison by the counsel of Briant of the Isles.  But King Arthur will\nhave a surfeit of friends betimes; for King Claudas hath assembled his\nfolk in great plenty to reconquer the kingdom of Oriande and come back\nupon King Arthur by the counsel of Briant of the Isles that betrayeth\nthe King, for he hath made him his Seneschal and commander of all his\nland.\"\n\n\"Sir Knight,\" saith Messire Gawain, \"Needs must the King miscarry that\nsetteth aside the counsel of his good knights for the leasings of a\ntraitor.\"\n\nThereupon the knight departed from Messire Gawain.  Right heavy is he\nof this that he hath said, that the King hath put Lancelot in prison.\nNever tofore did he aught whereby he wrought so much to blame.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XXXIV.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nHereupon the story is silent of Messire Gawain and Meliot and speaketh\nof King Claudas that hath assembled a great folk by the counsel of\nBriant of the Isles to come into the land of King Arthur, for he\nknoweth that it is disgarnished of the good knights that wont there to\nbe, and he knoweth all the secret plottings of the court and what power\nKing Arthur hath withal. He draweth toward his land the nighest he may,\nand hath won back the kingdom of Oriande all at his will.  But they of\nAlbanie still hold against him and challenge the land the best they\nmay. Tidings thereof come to the court of King Arthur, and they of the\ncountry sent him word that so he send them not succour betimes they\nwill yield up the land to King Claudas, and oftentimes they long after\nLancelot, and say that so they had a defender like him, the islands\nwould be all at peace.  The King sent Briant of the Isles thither many\ntimes, that ever incontinent returned thence discomfit, but never sent\nhe thither him that should have power to protect the land against King\nClaudas.  King Arthur was sore troubled, for no witting had he of\nMessire Gawain nor Messire Ywain nor of others whereby his court had\nuse of right to be feared and dreaded and of high renown throughout all\nother kingdoms.  The King was one day in the hall at Cardoil, right\nheavy; and he was at one of the windows, and remembered him of the\nQueen and of his good knights that he wont to see oftener at court,\nwhereof the more part were dead, and of the adventures that wont to\nbefall therein whereof they saw none no longer. Lucan the Butler seeth\nhim right heavy and draweth nigh unto him quietly.\n\n\nII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Meseemeth you are without joy.\"\n\n\"Lucan,\" said the King, \"Joy hath been somewhat far from me sithence\nthat the Queen hath been dead, and Gawain and the other knights have\nheld aloof from my court so that they deign come hither no longer.\nMoreover, King Claudas warreth upon me and conquereth my lands so that\nno power have I to rescue me for default of my knights.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lucan, \"Herein is there nought whereof you have right to\naccuse any save yourself alone.  For you have done evil unto him that\nhath served you, and good unto them that are traitors to you.  You have\none of the best knights in the world and the most loyal in your prison,\nwherefore all the other hold them aloof from your court.  Lancelot had\nserved you well by his good will and by his good knighthood, nor never\nhad he done you any disservice whereof you might in justice have done\nhim such shame; nor never will your enemies withhold them from you nor\nhave dread of you save only through him and other your good knights.\nAnd know of a truth that Lancelot and Messire Gawain are the best of\nyour court.\"\n\n\"Lucan,\" saith King Arthur, \"So thought I ever again to have affiance\nin him, I would make him be set forth of my prison, for well I know\nthat I have wrought discourteously toward him; and Lancelot is of a\ngreat heart, wherefore would he not slacken of his despite for that\nwhich hath been done unto him until such time as he should be avenged\nthereof, for no king is there in the world, how puissant soever he be,\nagainst whom he durst not well maintain his right.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lucan, \"Lancelot well knoweth that and you had taken no\ncounsel but your own, he would not have been thus entreated, and I dare\nwell say that never so long as he liveth will he misdo in aught towards\nyou, for he hath in him much valour and loyalty, as many a time have\nyou had good cause to know.  Wherefore, and you would fain have aid and\nsuccour and hold your realm again, behoveth you set him forth of the\nprison, or otherwise never will you succeed herein, and, if you do not\nso, you will lose your land by treason.\"\n\nThe King held by the counsel of Lucan the Butler.  He made bring\nLancelot before him into the midst of the hall, that was somewhat made\nean of his being in prison, but he bore him as he wont, nor might none\nlook at him to whom he seemed not to be good knight. \"Lancelot,\" saith\nthe King, \"How is it with you?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"It hath been ill with me long time, but, please God,\nit shall be better hereafter.\"\n\n\"Lancelot,\" saith the King, \"I repent me of this that I have done to\nyou, and I have bethought me much of the good services I have found in\nyou, wherefore I will do you amends thereof at your will, in such sort\nas that the love between us shall be whole as it was tofore.\"\n\n\nIV.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Lancelot, \"Your amends love I much, and your love more\nthan of any other; but never, please God, will I misdo you for aught\nthat you may have done to me, for it is well known that I have not been\nin prison for no treason I have done, nor for no folly, but only for\nthat it was your will.  Never will it be reproached me as of shame,\nand, sith that you have done me nought whereof I may have blame nor\nreproach, my devoir it is to withhold me from hating you; for you are\nmy lord, and if that you do me ill, without flattery of myself the ill\nyou do me is your own; but, please God, whatsoever you have done me,\nnever shall my aid fail you, rather, everywhere will I set my body in\nadventure for your love, in like sort as I have done many a time.\"\n\n\nV.\n\nIn the court of King Arthur was right great joy of the most part when\nthey heard that Lancelot was set forth of prison, but not a whit\nrejoiced were Briant and his folk.  The King commanded that Lancelot\nshould be well cared for and made whole again, and that all should be\nat his commandment.  The court was all overjoyed thereof, and they\nsaid: now at last might the King make war in good assurance.  Lancelot\nwas foremost in the King's court and more redoubted than was ever\nanother of the knights.  Briant of the Isles came one day before the\nKing.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Behold, here is Lancelot that wounded me in your\nservice, wherefore I will that he know I am his enemy.\"\n\n\"Briant,\" saith Lancelot, \"And if that you deserved it tofore, well may\nyou be sorry thereof, and sith that you wish to be mine enemy, your\nfriend will I not be.  For well may I deem of your love according as I\nhave found it in you.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Briant to the King, \"You are my lord, and I am one you are\nbound to protect.  You know well that so rich am I in lands and so\npuissant in friends that I may well despise mine enemy, nor will I not\nremain at your court so long as Lancelot is therein.  Say not that I\ndepart thence with any shame as toward myself.  Rather thus go I hence\nas one that will gladly avenge me, so I have place and freedom, and I\nsee plainly and know that you and your court love him far better than\nyou love me, wherefore behoveth me take thought thereof.\"\n\n\"Briant,\" saith the King, \"Remain as yet, and I will make amends for\nyou to Lancelot, and I myself will make amends for him to you.\"\n\n\nVI.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Briant, \"By the faith that I owe to you, none amends will\nI have of him nor other until such time as I have drawn as much blood\nof his body as did he of mine, and I will well that he know it.\"\n\nWith that Briant departeth from the court all wrathful, but if that\nLancelot had not feared to anger the King, Briant would not have ridden\na league English or ever he had followed and forced him to fight.\nBriant goeth toward the Castle of the Hard Rock, and saith that better\nwould it have been for the King that Lancelot were still in prison, for\nthat such a plea will he move against him and he may bring it to bear,\nas that he shall lose thereof the best parcel of his land.  He is gone\ninto the land of King Claudas, and saith that now at last hath he need\nof his aid, for Lancelot is issued forth of the King's prison and is\nbetter loved at court than all other, so that the King believeth in no\ncounsel save his only.  King Claudas sweareth unto him and maketh\npledge that never will he fail him, and Briant to him again.\n\n\n\nBRANCH XXXV.\n\nTITLE I.\n\nHerewithal is the story silent of Briant and talketh of Perceval, that\nthe ship beareth away right swiftly; but so long hath he held battle\ntherein that every one hath he slain of them that were in the ship save\nonly the pilot that steereth her, for him hath he in covenant that he\nwill believe in God and renounce his evil Law.  Perceval is far from\nland so that he seeth nought but sea only, and the ship speedeth\nonward, and God guideth him, as one that believeth in Him and loveth\nHim and serveth Him of a good heart.  The ship ran on by night and by\nday as it pleased God, until that they saw a castle and an island of\nthe sea.  He asked his pilot if he knew what castle it was.\n\n\"Certes,\" saith he, \"Not I, for so far have we run that I know not\nneither the sea nor the stars.\"\n\nThey come nigh the castle, and saw four that sounded bells at the four\ncorners of the town, right sweetly, and they that sounded them were\nclad in white garments.  They are come thither.\n\n\nII.\n\nSo soon as the ship had taken haven under the castle, the sea\nwithdraweth itself back, so that the ship is left on dry land. None\nwere therein save Perceval, his horse, and the pilot.  They issued\nforth of the ship and went by the side of the sea toward the castle,\nand therein were the fairest halls and the fairest mansions that any\nmight see ever.  He Looketh underneath a tree that was tall and broad\nand seeth the fairest fountain and the clearest that any may devise,\nand it was all surrounded of rich pillars, and the gravel thereof\nseemed to be gold and precious stones.  Above this fountain were two\nmen sitting, their beards and hair whiter than driven snow, albeit they\nseemed young of visage.  So soon as they saw Perceval they dressed them\nto meet him, and bowed down and worshipped the shield that he bare at\nhis neck, and kissed the cross and then the boss wherein were the\nhallows.\n\n\"Sir,\" say they, \"Marvel not of this that we do, for well knew we the\nknight that bare this shield tofore you.  Many a time we saw him or\never God were crucified.\"\n\nPerceval marvelleth much of this that they say, for they talk of a time\nthat is long agone.\n\n\nIII.\n\n\"Lords, know ye then how he was named?\"\n\nSay they, \"Joseph of Abarimacie, but no cross was there on the shield\nbefore the death of Jesus Christ.  But he had it set thereon after the\ncrucifixion of Jesus Christ for the sake of the Saviour that he loved\nso well.\"\n\nPerceval took off the shield from his neck, and one of the worshipful\nmen setteth upon it as it were a posy of herbs that was blooming with\nthe fairest flowers in the world.  Perceval looketh beyond the fountain\nand seeth in a right fair place a round vessel like as it were ivory,\nand it was so large that there was a knight within, all armed.  He\nlooketh thereinto and seeth the knight, and speaketh unto him many\ntimes, but never the more willeth the knight to answer him.  Perceval\nlooketh at him in wonderment, and cometh back to the good men and\nasketh them who is this knight, and they tell him that he may know not\nas yet.  They lead him to a great hall and bear his shield before him,\nwhereof they make right great joy, and show thereunto great worship.\nHe seeth the hall right rich, for hall so rich and so fair had he seen\nnever.  It was hung about with right rich cloths of silk, and in the\nmidst of the hall was imaged the Saviour of the World so as He is in\nHis majesty, with the apostles about Him, and within were great\ngalleries that were full of folk and seemed to be of great holiness,\nand so were they, for had they not been good men they might not there\nhave remained.\n\n\nIV.\n\n\"Sir,\" say the two Masters to Perceval, \"This house that you see here\nso rich, is the hall royal.\"\n\n\"By my faith,\" saith Perceval, \"So ought it well to be, for never saw I\nnone so much of worth.\"\n\nHe Looketh all around, and seeth the richest tables of gold and ivory\nthat he saw ever.  One of the Masters clappeth his hands thrice, and\nthree and thirty men come into the hall all in a company.  They were\nclad in white garments, and not one of them but had a red cross in the\nmidst of his breast, and they seemed to be all of an age.  As soon as\nthey enter into the hall they do worship to God Our Lord and set out\ntheir cups.  Then went they to wash at a great laver of gold, and then\nwent to sit at the tables.  The Masters made Perceval sit at the most\nmaster-table with themselves.  They were served thereat right\ngloriously, and Perceval looked about him more gladlier than he ate.\n\n\nV.\n\nAnd while he was thus looking, he seeth a chain of gold come down above\nhim loaded with precious stones, and in the midst thereof was a crown\nof gold.  The chain descended a great length and held on to nought save\nto the will of Our Lord only.  As soon as the Masters saw it descending\nthey opened a great wide pit that was in the midst of the hall, so that\none could see the hole all openly.  As soon as the entrance of this pit\nwas discovered, there issued thence the greatest cry and most dolorous\nthat any heard ever, and when the worshipful men hear it, they\nstretched out their hands towards Our Lord and all began to weep.\nPerceval heareth this dolour, and marvelleth much what it may be.  He\nseeth that the chain of gold descendeth thither and is there stayed\nuntil they have well-nigh eaten, and then draweth itself again into the\nair and so goeth again aloft.  But Perceval knoweth not what became\nthereof, and the Master covereth the pit again, that was right grisly\nto see, and pitiful to hear were the voices that issued therefrom.\n\n\nVI.\n\nThe Good Men rose from the tables when they had eaten, and gave thanks\nright sweetly to Our Lord; and then returned thither whence they had\ncome.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the Master to Perceval, \"The chain of gold that you have\nseen is right precious and the crown of gold likewise.  But never may\nyou issue forth from hence save you promise to return so soon as you\nshall see the ship and the sail crossed of a red cross; otherwise may\nyou not depart hence.\"\n\n\"Tell me,\" saith he, \"of the chain of gold and the crown, what it may\nbe?\"\n\n\"We will tell you not,\" saith one of the Masters, \"Save you promise\nthat which I tell you.\"\n\n\"Certes, Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"I promise you faithfully, that so soon\nas I shall have done that I have to do for my lady my mother and one\nother, that I will return hither, so I be on live and I see your ship\nso marked as you say.\"\n\n\"Yea, be you faithful to the end herein, and you shall have the crown\nof gold upon your head so soon as you return, and so shall you be\nseated in the throne, and shall be king of an island that is near to\nthis, right plenteous of all things good, for nought is there in the\nworld that is there lacking that is needful for man's body.  King\nHermit was the king thereof that thus hath garnished it, and for that\nhe approved himself so well in this kingdom, and that they who are in\nthe island consented thereto, is he chosen to be king of a greater\nrealm.  Now they desire that another worshipful man be sent them for\nking, that shall do for them as much good as did he, but take you good\nheed, sith that you will be king therein, that the island be well\ngarnished; for, and you garnish it not well, you will be put into the\nPoverty-stricken Island, the crying whereof you have but now since\nheard, and the crown thereof will again be reft from you.  For they\nthat have been kings of the Plenteous Island and have not well approved\nthem, are among the folk that you saw in the Poverty-stricken Island,\nlacking in all things good.  And so I tell you that King Hermit, whom\nyou will succeed, hath sent thither a great part of his folk.  There\nare the heads sealed in silver, and the heads sealed in lead, and the\nbodies whereunto these heads belonged; I tell you that you must make\ncome thither the head both of the King and of the Queen.  But of the\nother I tell you that they are in the Poverty-stricken Island.  But we\nknow not whether they shall ever issue forth thence.\"\n\n\nVII.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"Tell me of the knight that is all armed in the\nivory vessel, who he is, and what is the name of this castle?\"\n\n\"You may not know,\" saith the Master, \"until your return.  But tell me\ntidings of the most Holy Graal, that you reconquered, is it still in\nthe holy chapel that was King Fisherman's?\"\n\n\"Yea, Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"And the sword wherewith S. John was\nbeheaded, and other hallows in great plenty.\"\n\n\"I saw the Graal,\" saith the Master, \"or ever Joseph, that was uncle to\nKing Fisherman, collected therein the blood or Jesus Christ.  Know that\nwell am I acquainted with all your lineage, and of what folk you were\nborn.  For your good knighthood and for your good cleanness and for\nyour good valour came you in hither, for such was Our Lord's will, and\ntake heed that you be ready when place shall be, and time shall come,\nand you shall see the ship apparelled.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"Most willingly shall I return, nor never would\nI have sought to depart but for my lady my mother, and for my sister,\nfor never have I seen no place that so much hath pleased me.\"\n\nHe was right well harboured the night within, and in the morning, or\never he departed, heard a holy mass in a holy chapel the fairest that\nhe had seen ever.  The Master cometh to him after the mass and bringeth\nhim a shield as white as snow.  Afterwards, he saith, \"You will leave\nme your shield within for token of your coming and will bear this.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"I will do your pleasure.\"\n\nHe hath taken leave, and so departeth from the rich mansion, and\nfindeth the ship all apparelled, and heareth sound the bells at his\nforth-going the same as at his coming.  He entereth into the ship and\nthe sail is set.  He leaveth the land far behind, and the pilot\nsteereth the ship and Our Lord God guideth and leadeth him.  The ship\nrunneth a great speed, for far enough had she to run, but God made her\nspeed as He would, for He knew the passing great goodness and worth of\nthe knight that was within.\n\n\nVIII.\n\nGod hath guided and led the ship by day and by night until that she\narrived at an island where was a castle right ancient, but it seemed\nnot to be over-rich, rather it showed as had it been of great lordship\nin days of yore.  They cast anchor, and Perceval is come toward the\ncastle and entereth in all armed.  He seeth the castle large, and the\ndwelling chambers fallen down and the house-place roofless, and he\nseeth a lady sitting before the steps of an old hall.  She rose up as\nsoon as she saw him, but she was right poorly clad.  It seemed well by\nher body and her cheer and her bearing that she was a gentlewoman, and\nhe seeth that two damsels come with her that are young of age and are\nas poorly clad as is the lady.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she to Perceval, \"Welcome may you be.  No knight have I\nseen enter this castle of a long time.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Perceval, \"God grant you joy and honour!\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Need have we thereof, for none scarce have I had\nthis long while past.\"\n\nShe leadeth him into a great ancient hall that was right poorly\ngarnished.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Here will you harbour you the night, and you would\ntake in good part that we may do and you knew the plight of this\ncastle.\"\n\nShe maketh him be unarmed of a servant that was there within, and the\ndamsels come before him and serve him right sweetly.  The lady bringeth\nhim a mantle to do on.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Within are no better garments wherewith to show you\nhonour than this.\"\n\nPerceval looketh on the damsels and hath great pity of them, for so\nwell shapen were they of limb and body as that nature might not have\nbetter fashioned them, and all the beauty that may be in woman's body\nwas in them, and all the sweetness and simpleness.\n\n\nIX.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Perceval, \"Is this castle, then, not yours?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"So much is all that remaineth unto me of all my\nland, and you see there my daughters of whom is it right sore pity, for\nnought have they but what you see, albeit gentlewomen are they and of\nhigh lineage, but their kinsfolk are too far away, and a knight that is\nright cruel hath reft us of our land sithence that my lord was dead,\nand holdeth a son of mine in his prison, whereof I am right sorrowful,\nfor he is one of the comeliest knights in the world.  He had not been\nknight more than four years when he took him, and now may I aid neither\nmyself nor other, but I have heard tell that there is a knight in the\nland of Wales that was the son of Alain li Gros of the Valleys of\nCamelot, and he is the Best Knight in the World, and this Alain was\nbrother of Calobrutus, whose wife was I, and of whom I had my son and\nthese two daughters.  This know I well, that and the Good Knight that\nis so near akin to them were by any adventure to come into this island,\nI should have my son again, and my daughters that are disherited would\nhave their lands again freely, and so should I be brought out of sore\npain and poverty.  I am of another lineage that is full far away, for\nKing Ban of Benoic that is dead was mine uncle, but he hath a son that\nis a right good knight as I have been told, so that and one of these\ntwo should come nigh me in any of these islands right joyous should I\nbe thereof.\"\n\n\nX.\n\nPerceval heareth that the two damsels are his uncle's daughters, and\nhath great pity thereof.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith he, \"How is he named that is in prison?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Galobruns, and he that holdeth him in prison is\nnamed Gohaz of the Castle of the Whale.\"\n\n\"Is his castle near this, Lady?\" saith he.\n\n\"Sir, there is but an arm of the sea to cross, and in all these islands\nof the sea is there none that hath any puissance but he only, and so\nassured is he that no dread hath he of any.  For none that is in this\nland durst offend against him.  Sir, one thing hath he bid me do,\nwhereof I am sore grieved, that and I send him not one of my daughters,\nhe hath sworn his oath that he will reave me of my castle.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Perceval, \"An oath is not always kept.  To the two\ndamsels, please God, shall he do no shame, and right heavy am I of that\nhe hath done already, for they were daughters of mine uncle.  Alain li\nGros was my father and Galobrutus my uncle, and many another good man\nthat now is dead.\"\n\n\nXI.\n\nWhen the damsels heard this, they kneeled down before him, and began to\nweep for joy and kiss his hands, and pray him for God's sake have mercy\non them and on their brother.  And he saith that he will not depart\nfrom their land until he hath done all he may. He remaineth the night\nin the castle and his mariner likewise. The lady made great joy of\nPerceval, and did him all the honour she might.  When the morrow came\nthey showed him the land of the King that had reft them of their land,\nbut the lady could not tell him where her son was in prison.  He\ndeparteth and cometh back to his ship when he hath taken leave of the\nlady and the damsels, and right glad was he to know that the damsels\nwere so nigh to him of kin.  So he prayeth God grant him that he may be\nable to give them back their land and bring them out of the poverty\nwherein they are.  He roweth until that he is come under a rock,\nwherein was a cave at top round and narrow and secure like as it were a\nlittle house.  Perceval looketh on that side, and seeth a man sitting\nwithin.  He maketh the ship draw nigh the rock, then looketh and seeth\nthe cutting of a way that went upwards through the rock.  He is come\nforth of the ship and goeth up the little path until he cometh into the\nlittle house.  He findeth within one of the comeliest knights in the\nworld.  He had a ring at his feet and a collar on his neck with a chain\nwhereof the other end was fixed by a staple into a great ledge of the\nrock.  He rose up over against Perceval as soon as he saw him.\n\n\"Sir Knight,\" saith Perceval, \"You are well made fast.\"\n\n\"Sir, that irketh me,\" saith the knight, \"Better should I like myself\nelsewhere than here.\"\n\n\"You would be right,\" saith Perceval, \"For you are in right evil plight\nin the midst of this sea.  Have you aught within to eat or to drink?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"The daughter of the Sick Knight that dwelleth in the\nisland hard by, sendeth me every day in a boat as much meat as I may\neat, for she hath great pity of me.  The King that hath imprisoned me\nhere hath reft her castles like as he hath those of my lady my mother.\"\n\n\"May none remove you hence?\"\n\n\"Sir, in no wise, save he that set me here, for he keepeth with him the\nkey of the lock, and he told me when he departed hence that never more\nshould I issue forth.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Perceval, \"but you shall!  And you were the son of\nGalobrutus, you were the son of mine uncle,\" saith Perceval, \"and I of\nyours, so that it would be a reproach to me for evermore and I left you\nin this prison.\"\n\n\nXII.\n\nWhen Galobruns heareth that he is his uncle's son, great joy hath he\nthereof.  He would have fallen at his feet, but Perceval would not, and\nsaid to him, \"Now be well assured, for I will seek your deliverance.\"\n\nHe cometh down from the rock, and so entereth the ship and roweth of a\nlong space.  He looketh before him and seeth a right rich island and a\nright plenteous, and on the other side he seeth in a little islet a\nknight that is mounted up in a tall tree that was right broad with many\nboughs.  There was a damsel with him, that had climbed up also for\ndread of a serpent, great and evil-favoured that had issued from a hole\nin a mountain.  The damsel seeth Perceval's ship coming, and crieth out\nto him.\n\n\"Ha, Sir,\" saith she, \"Come to help this King that is up above, and me\nthat am a damsel!\"\n\n\"Whereof are you afeard, damsel?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Of a great serpent, Sir,\" saith she, \"that hath made us climb up,\nwhereof ought I not to be sorry, for this King hath carried me off from\nmy father's house, and would have done me shame of my body and this\nserpent had not run upon him.\"\n\n\"And what is the King's name, damsel?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Sir, he is called Gohaz of the Castle of the Whale.  This great land\nis his own that is so plenteous, and other lands enow that he hath reft\nof my father and of other.\"\n\nThe King had great shame of this that the damsel told him, and made\nanswer never a word.  Perceval understandeth that it was he that held\nhis cousin in prison, and is issued from the ship forthwith, sword\ndrawn.  The serpent seeth him, and cometh toward him, jaws yawning, and\ncasteth forth fire and flame in great plenty.  Perceval thrusteth his\nsword right through the gullet.\n\n\"Now may you come down,\" saith he to the King.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"The key of a chain wherewith a certain knight is\nbound hath fallen, and the serpent seized it.\"\n\nPerceval rendeth open the throat and findeth the key forthwith, all\nred-hot with the fire of the serpent.  The King cometh down, that hath\nno dread of aught, but cometh, rather, as he ought, to thank Perceval\nof the goodness he had done him, and Perceval seizeth him between his\narms and beareth him away to the ship.\n\n\nXIII.\n\n\"Sir Knight,\" saith Gohaz, \"Take heed what you do, for I am King of\nthis land.\"\n\n\"Therefore,\" saith Perceval, \"I do it.  For, had it been another I\nshould do it not.\"\n\n\"Ha, Sir,\" saith the damsel, \"Leave me not here to get forth as I may,\nbut help me until that I shall be in the house of my father, the Sick\nKnight, that is sore grieved on my account.\"\n\nPerceval understandeth that it is the damsel of whom Galobruns spake\nsuch praise.  He goeth to bring her down from the tree, then bringeth\nher into the ship, and so goeth back toward the rock where his cousin\nwas.\n\n\"Sir Knight,\" saith Gohaz, \"Where will you put me?\"\n\n\"I will put you,\" saith he, \"as an enemy, there, where you have put the\nson of mine uncle in prison; so shall I avenge me of you, and he also\nat his will.\"\n\nWhen the King heard this, he was glad thereof not a whit, and the\ndamsel was loath not a whit, whom he had thus disherited.  They row\nuntil they come to the rock.  Perceval issueth forth of the ship, and\nbringeth Gohaz up maugre his head.  Galobruns seeth him coming and\nmaketh great joy thereof, and Perceval saith to him: \"Behold here your\nmortal enemy!  Now do your will of him!\"\n\nHe taketh the key and so looseth him of the irons wherein he was\nimprisoned.\n\n\nXIV.\n\n\"Galobruns,\" saith Perceval, \"Now may you do your pleasure of your\nenemy?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Right gladly!\"\n\nHe maketh fast the irons on his feet that he had upon his own, and\nafterward setteth the collar on his neck.\n\n\"Now let him be here,\" saith he, \"in such sort and in such prison as he\nput me; for well I know that he will be succoured of none.\"\n\nAfter that, he flingeth the key into the sea as far as he might, and so\nseemed it to Galobruns that he well avenged himself in such wise, and\nbetter than if he had killed him.  Perceval alloweth him everything\ntherein at his will.  They enter into the ship and leave Gohaz all\nsorrowing on the rock, that never thereafter ate nor drank.  And\nPerceval bringeth his cousin and the damsel, and they row until that\nthey come into their land, and Perceval maketh send for all the folk of\nKing Gohaz and maketh all the more powerful do sure homage to Galobruns\nand his sisters in such sort that the land was all at their will.  He\nsojourned there so long as it pleased him, and then departed and took\nleave of the damsel and Galobruns, that thanked him much for the lands\nthat he had again through him.\n\n\nXV.\n\nPerceval hath rowed until that he is come nigh a castle that was\nburning fiercely with a great flame, and seeth a hermitage upon the sea\nhard by.  He seeth the hermit at the door of the chapel, and asketh him\nwhat the castle is that hath caught fire thus.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the hermit, \"I will tell you.  Joseus, the son of King\nPelles, slew his mother there.  Never sithence hath the castle stinted\nof burning, and I tell you that of this castle and one other will be\nkindled the fire that shall burn up the world and put it to an end.\"\n\nPerceval marvelleth much, and knew well that it was the castle of King\nHermit his uncle.  He departeth thence in great haste, and passeth\nthree kingdoms and saileth by the wastes and deserts on one side and\nthe other of the sea, for the ship ran somewhat a-nigh the land.  He\nlooketh and seeth on an island twelve hermits sitting on the seashore.\nThe sea was calm and untroubled, and he made cast the anchor so as to\nkeep the ship steady.  Then he saluteth the hermits, and they all bow\ndown to him in answer.  He asketh them where have they their repair,\nand they tell him that they have not far away twelve chapels and twelve\nhouses that surround a grave-yard wherein lie twelve dead knights that\nwe keep watch over.  They were all brothers-german, and right\nworshipful men, and none thereof lived more than twelve years knight\nsave one only, and none of them was there but won much land and broad\nkingdoms from the misbelievers, and they all died in arms; and the name\nof the eldest was Alain li Gros, and he came into this country from the\nValleys of Camelot to avenge his brother Alibans of the Waste City that\nthe Giant King had slain, and he took vengeance on him thereof, but he\ndied thereafter of a wound that the Giant had given him.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith one of the hermits, \"I was at his death, but nought was\nthere he so longed after as a son of his, and he said that his name was\nPerceval.  He was the last of the brothers that died.\"\n\n\nXVI.\n\nWhen Perceval heard this he had pity thereof, and issued forth of the\nship and came to land, and his mariner with him.  He prayed the hermits\nthat they would lead him to the graveyard where the knights lay, and\ngladly did they so.  Perceval is come thither and seeth the coffins\nright rich and fair, and the chapels full fairly dight, and every\ncoffin lay over against the altar in each chapel.\n\n\"Lords, which coffin is that of the Lord of Camelot?\"\n\n\"This, the highest,\" say the hermits, \"and the most rich, for that he\nwas eldest of all the brethren.\"\n\nPerceval kneeleth down before it, then embraceth the coffin and prayeth\nright sweetly for the soul of his father, and in like manner he went to\nall the other coffins.  He harboured the night with the hermits, and\ntold them that Alain li Gros was his father and all the other his\nuncles.  Right joyous were the hermits for that he was come thither,\nand the morrow, or ever he departed, he heard mass in the chapel of his\nfather and in the others where he might.  He entered into the ship and\nsped full swift, and so far hath the ship run that he draweth nigh the\nislands of Great Britain.  He arriveth at the head of a forest under\nthe Red Tower whereof he had slain the lord, there where Meliot\ndelivered Messire Gawain.  He is issued forth of the ship and leadeth\nforth his horse and is armed, and commendeth the pilot to God.  He\nmounteth on his destrier, all armed, and goeth amidst the land that was\nwell-nigh void of people, for he himself had slain the greater part\nthereof, albeit he knew it not.  He rideth so long, right amidst the\ncountry, that he cometh toward evensong to a hold that was in a great\nforest, and he bethought him that he would go into the hermitage, and\nhe cometh straight into the hold, and seeth a knight lying in the\nentrance of the gate on a straw mattress, and a damsel sate at the\nbed's head, of passing great beauty, and held his head on her lap.\n\n\nXVII.\n\nThe knight reviled her from time to time, and said that he would make\ncut of her head and he had not that he desired to have, for that he was\nsick.  Perceval looked at the lady that held him and served him full\nsweetly, and deemed her to be a good lady and a loyal.  The Sick Knight\ncalled to Perceval.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Are you come in hither to harbour?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"So please you, I will harbour here.\"\n\n\"Then blame me not,\" saith the knight, \"of that you shall see me do\nunto my wife.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"Sith that she is yours, you have a right to do\nyour pleasure, but in all things ought one to be heedful on one's way.\"\n\nThe knight made him be carried back into the dwelling, for that he had\nbeen in the air as long as pleased him, and commanded his wife that she\ndo much honour to the knight that is come to lodge within.\n\n\"But take heed,\" saith he, \"that you be not seen at the table, but eat,\nas you are wont, at the squire's table, for, until such time as I have\nthe golden cup I desire, I will not forego my despite against you.\"\n\n\nXVIII.\n\nPerceval unarmed him.  The lady had brought him a surcoat of scarlet\nfor him to do on, and he asked her wherefore her lord reviled her and\nrebuked her in such sort, and she told him all the story how Lancelot\nhad married her to him, and how her lord ever sithence had dishonoured\nher.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Now hath he fallen into misease, sithence then, and\nhe hath a brother as sick as he is, and therefore hath Gohaz of the\nCastle of the Whale reft him of his land, whereof is he right sorry,\nand my lord hath never been heal since that he heard thereof.  And well\nyou know that such folk wax wroth of a little, and are overjoyed when\nthey have a little thing that pleaseth them, for they live always in\ndesire of somewhat.  My lord hath heard tell of a cup of gold that a\ndamsel beareth, that is right rich and of greater worth than aught he\nhath seen this long time, and a knight goeth with the damsel that\nbeareth the cup, and saith that none may have it save he be the Best\nKnight in the World.  My lord hath told me many times, sithence he\nheard tidings thereof, that never shall the despite he hath toward me\nbe forgone, until that he shall have the cup.  But he is so angry\nwithal with his brother that hath lost his land, that I aby it right\ndear, for I do all his will and yet may I have no fair treatment of\nhim.  Howbeit, for no ill that he may do, nor no churlishness that he\nmay say, will I be against him in nought that he hath set his mind on.\nFor I would have him, and I had him, blessed be Lancelot through whom\nit was so.  As much as I loved him in health, so much love I him in his\nsickness, and more yet, for I desire to deserve that God shall bring\nhim to a better mind.\"\n\n\nXIX.\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Perceval, \"Great praise ought you to have of this that\nyou say; but you may well tell him of a truth that the sick King his\nbrother hath all his land freely and his daughter, for I was at the\nreconquering thereof, and know the knight well that gave it back unto\nhim.  But of the golden cup can I give you no witting.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"The damsel is to bear it to an assembly of knights\nthat is to be held hard by this, under the White Tower. There hath she\nto give it to the best knight, and him that shall do best at the\nassembly, and the knight that followeth the damsel is bound to carry it\nwhither he that shall win it may command, and if he would fain it\nshould be given to another rather than to himself.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Perceval, \"Well meseemeth that he who shall win the cup\nby prize of arms will be right courteous and he send it to you, and God\ngrant that he that hath it may do you such bounty as you desire.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Methinketh well, so Lancelot were there, either he\nor Messire Gawain, that, and they won it, so they remembered them of\nme, and knew how needful it were to me, they would promise me the cup.\"\n\n\"Lady,\" saith Perceval, \"By one of these twain ought you well to have\nit, for greater prize now long since have they won.\"\n\nShe goeth to her lord and saith to him: \"Sir,\" saith she, \"Now may you\nbe more joyous than is your wont, for that your brother hath his land\nagain all quit.  For the knight that is within was at the reconquering.\"\n\nThe Sick Knight heard her and had great joy thereof.\n\n\"Go!\" saith he to his wife, \"and do great honour to the knight, but\ntake heed you sit not otherwise than you are wont.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I will not.\"\n\n\nXX.\n\nThe damsel maketh Perceval sit at meat.  When he had washen, he thought\nthat the lady should have come to sit beside him, but she would not\ndisobey her lord's commandment.  When Perceval was set at the table and\nhe had been served of the first meats, thereupon the lady went to sit\nwith the squires.  Perceval was much shamed that she should sit below,\nbut he was not minded to speak, for she had told him somewhat of her\nlord's manner.  Howbeit, he lay the night in the hold, and, on the\nmorrow when he had taken leave, he departed, and bethought him in his\ncourage that the knight would do good chivalry and great aims that\nshould do this sick knight his desire as concerning the cup, in such\nsort as that his wife should be freed of the annoy that she is in, for\nthat all knights that knew thereof ought to have pity of her. Perceval\ngoeth his way as he that hath great desire to accomplish that he hath\nto do, and to see the token of his going again to the castle where the\nchain of gold appeared to him, for never yet saw he dwelling that\npleased him so much.  He hath ridden so far that he is come into the\njoyless forest of the Black Hermit, that is so loathly and horrible\nthat no leaves nor greenery are there by winter nor by summer, nor was\nsong of bird never heard therein, but all the land is gruesome and\nburnt, and wide are the cracks therein.  He hath scarce gone thereinto\nor ever he hath overtaken the Damsel of the Car, that made full great\njoy of him.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Bald was I the first time I saw you; now may you see\nthat I have my hair.\"\n\n\"Certes, yea!\" saith Perceval, \"And, as methinketh, hair passing\nbeautiful.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"I was wont to carry my arm at my neck in a scarf of\ngold and silk, for that I thought the service I did you in the hostel\nof King Fisherman your uncle had been ill bestowed; but now well I see\nthat it was not; wherefore now carry I the one arm in the same manner\nas the other; and the damsel that wont to go a-foot now goeth\na-horseback; and blessed be you that have so approved you in goodness\nby the good manner of your heart, and by your likeness to the first of\nyour lineage, whom you resemble in all good conditions. Sir,\" saith\nshe, \"I durst not come nigh the castle, for there be archers there that\nshoot so sore that none may endure their strokes, and hereof will they\nstint not, they say, until such time as you be come thither.  But well\nknow I wherefore they will cease then, for they will come to shut you\nup within to slay and to destroy.  Natheless all they that are within\nwill have no power, nor will they do you evil, save only the lord of\nthe castle; but he will do battle against you right gladly.\"\n\n\nXXI.\n\nPerceval goeth toward the castle of the Black Hermit, and the Damsel of\nthe Car after.  The archers draw and shoot stoutly. Perceval goeth\nforward a great gallop, but they know him not on account of the white\nshield.  They think rather that it is one of the other knights, and\nthey lodge many arrows in his shield.  He came nigh a drawbridge over a\nmoat right broad and foul and horrible, and the bridge was lowered so\nsoon as he came, and all the archers left of shooting.  Then knew they\nwell that it was Perceval who came.  The door was opened to receive\nhim, for they of the gate and they of the castle within thought to have\npower to slay him.  But so soon as they saw him, they lost their will\nthereof and were all amared and without strength, and said that they\nwould set this business on their lord that was strong enough and\npuissant enough to slay one man.  Perceval entered all armed into a\ngreat hall, and found it filled all around with a great throng of folk\nthat was right foul to look on.  He that was called the Black Hermit\nwas full tall and Seemed to be of noble lordship, and he was in the\nmidst of the hall, all armed.\n\n\"Sir,\" say his men, \"And you have not defence of yourself, never no\ncounsel nor aid may you have of us!\"\n\n\nXXII.\n\n\"We are yours to guard, to protect, and oftentimes have we defended\nyou; now defend us in this sore need.\"\n\nThe Black Hermit sate upon a tall black horse, and was right richly\narmed.  So soon as Perceval espieth him, he cometh with such a rush\nagainst him that he maketh all the hall resound, and the Black Hermit\ncometh in like sort.  They mell together with such force that the Black\nHermit breaketh his spear upon Perceval, but Perceval smiteth him so\npassing stoutly on the left side upon the shield, that he beareth him\nto the ground beside his horse, so that in the fall he made he\nto-frushed two of the great ribs in the overturn.  And when they that\nwere therein saw him fall, they opened the trap-door of a great pit\nthat was in the midst of the hall.  So soon as they had opened it, the\nfoulest stench that any smelt ever issued thereout.  They take their\nlord and cast him into this abysm and this filth.  After that, they\ncome to Perceval, and so yield the castle and put them at his mercy in\neverything.  Thereupon, behold you, the Damsel of the Car that cometh.\nThey deliver up to her the heads sealed in gold, both the head of the\nKing and of the Queen, and she departeth forthwith, for well knoweth\nshe that Perceval will achieve that he hath to do without her.  She\ndeparteth from the castle and goeth the speediest she may toward the\nValleys of Camelot.  And all they of the castle that had been the Black\nHermit's are obedient to Perceval to do his will, and they have him in\ncovenant that never more shall knights be harassed there in such sort\nas they had been theretofore, but rather that they should receive\ngladly any knights that should pass that way, like as in other places.\nPerceval departed from the castle rejoicing for that he had drawn them\nto the believe of Our Lord, and every day was His service done therein\nin holy wise, like as it is done in other places.\n\n\nXXIII.\n\nHereof ought the good knight to be loved that by the goodness of his\nheart and the loyalty of his knighthood hath achieved all the emprises\nhe undertook, without reproach and without blame. Perceval hath ridden\nuntil he hath overtaken the damsel that carried the rich cup of gold\nand the knight that was along with her.  Perceval saluteth him, and the\nknight maketh answer, may he be blessed of God and of His sweet Mother.\n\n\"Fair Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"Is this damsel of your company?\"\n\nSaith the knight, \"Rather am I of hers.  But we are going to an\nassembly of knights that is to be under the White Tower to the intent\nto prove which knight is most worth, and to him that shall have the\nprize of the assembly shall be delivered this golden cup.\"\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Perceval, \"That will be fair to see!\"\n\nHe departeth from the knight and the damsel, and goeth his way a great\npace amidst the meadows under the White Tower, whither the knights were\ncoming from all parts, and many of them were already armed to issue\nforth.  So soon as it was known that the damsel with the cup was come\nthither, the fellowships assembled on all sides, and great was the\nclashing of arms.  Perceval hurleth into the assembly in such sort that\nmany a knight he smiteth down and overthroweth at his coming, and he\ngiveth so many blows and so many receiveth that all they that behold\nmarvel much how he may abide.  The assembly lasted until evensong, and\nwhen it came to an end the damsel came to the knights and prayed and\nrequired that they would declare to her by right judgment of arms which\nhad done the best.  The more part said that he of the white shield had\nsurpassed them all in arms, and all agreed thereto. The damsel was\nright glad, for well she knew that they spake truth.  She cometh to\nPerceval; \"Sir,\" saith she, \"I present you this cup of gold for your\ngood chivalry, and therefore is it meet and right you should know\nwhence the cup cometh.  The elder Damsel of the Tent where the evil\ncustom was wont to be, sent it to Messire Gawain, and Messire Gawain\nmade much joy thereof.  And it came to pass on such wise that Brundans,\nthe son of the sister of Briant of the Isles, slew Meliot of Logres,\nthe most courteous knight and the most valiant that was in the realm of\nLogres, and thereof was Messire Gawain so sorrowful that he knew not\nhow to contain himself.  For Meliot had twice rescued him from death,\nand King Arthur once.  He was liegeman of Messire Gawain. Wherefore he\nprayeth and beseecheth you on his behalf that you receive not the cup\nsave you undertake to avenge him.  For he was loved of all the court,\nalbeit he had haunted it but little. Brundans slew him in treason when\nMeliot was unawares of him.\"\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith Perceval, \"Were there no cup at all, yet natheless\nshould I be fain to do the will of Messire Gawain, for never might I\nlove the man that had deserved his hatred.\"  He taketh the cup in his\nhand.  \"Damsel,\" saith he, \"I thank you much hereof, and God grant I\nmay reward you for the same.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"Brundans is a right proud knight, and beareth a\nshield party of vert and argent.  He is minded never to change his\ncognisance, for that his father bore the same.\"\n\nPerceval called the knight that was of the damsel's company.  \"I\nbeseech you,\" saith he, \"of guerdon and of service, that you bear this\ncup for me to the hold of the Sick Knight, and tell his wife that the\nKnight of the White Shield that was harboured there within hath sent it\nher by you.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"This will I do gladly to fulfil your will.\"\n\nHe taketh the cup to furnish out the conditions of the message, and so\ndeparteth forthwith.\n\n\nXXIV.\n\nPerceval lay the night in the castle of the White Tower, and departed\nthence on the morrow as he that would fain do somewhat whereof he might\ndeserve well of Messire Gawain.  Many a time had he heard tell of\nMeliot of Logres and of his chivalry and of his great valour.  He was\nentered into a forest, and had heard mass of a hermit, from whom he had\ndeparted.  He came to the Castle Perilous that was hard by there where\nMeliot lay sick, lay wounded, when Lancelot brought him the sword and\nthe cloth wherewith he touched his wounds.  He entered into the castle\nand alighted.  The damsel of the castle, that made great dole, came to\nmeet Perceval. \"Damsel,\" saith he, \"Wherefore are you so sorrowful?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith she, \"For a knight that I tended and healed herewithin,\nwhom Brundans hath killed in treason, and God thereof grant us\nvengeance yet, for so courteous knight saw I never.\"\n\nWhile she was speaking in this manner, forthwith behold you a damsel\nthat cometh.\n\n\"Ha, Sir,\" saith she to Perceval, \"Mount you again and come to aid us,\nfor none other knight find I in this land nor in this forest but only\nyou all alone!\"\n\n\"What need have you of my aid?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"A knight is carrying off my lady by force, that was going to the court\nof King Arthur.\"\n\n\"Who is your lady?\" saith Perceval.\n\n\"Sir, she is the younger Damsel of the Tent where Messire Gawain\noverthrew the evil customs.  For God's sake, hasten you, for he\nrevileth her sore for her love of the King and of Messire Gawain.\"\n\nPerceval remounteth forthwith and issueth forth of the castle on the\nspur.  The damsel bringeth him on as fast as the knight can go.  They\nhad not ridden far before they came a-nigh, and Perceval heard the\ndamsel crying aloud for mercy, and the knight said that mercy upon her\nhe would not have, and so smote her on the head and neck with the fiat\nof his sword.\n\n\nXXV.\n\nPerceval espied the knight and saw that the cognisance of his shield\nwas such as that which had been set forth to him.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Too churlishly are you entreating this damsel! What\nwrong hath she done you?\"\n\n\"What is it to you of me and of her?\"\n\n\"I say it\" saith Perceval, \"for that no knight ought to do churlishly\nto damsel.\"\n\n\"He will not stint for you yet!\" saith Brundans.  He raiseth his sword\nand dealeth the damsel a buffet with the fiat so passing heavy that it\nmaketh her stoop withal so that the blood rayeth out at mouth and nose.\n\n\"By my head,\" saith Perceval, \"On this buffet I defy thee, for the\ndeath of Meliot and for the shame you have done this damsel.\"\n\n\"Neither you nor none other may brag that you have heart to attack me,\nbut you shall aby it right dear!\"\n\n\"That shall you see presently,\" saith Perceval and so draweth back the\nbetter to let drive at him, and moveth towards him as fast as his horse\nmay run, and smiteth him so passing sore that he pierceth his shield\nand bursteth his habergeon and then thrusteth his spear into his body\nwith such force that he overthroweth him all in a heap, him and his\nhorse, in such sort that he breaketh both legs in the fall.\n\nThen he alighteth over him, lowereth his coif, unlaceth the ventail,\nand smiteth off his head.\n\n\"Damsel,\" saith he, \"Take it, I present it to you.  And, sith that you\nare going to King Arthur's court, I pray and beseech you that you carry\nit thither and so salute him first for me, and tell Messire Gawain and\nLancelot that this is the last present I look ever to make them, for I\nthink never to see them more. Howbeit, wheresoever I may be, I shall be\ntheir well-wisher, nor may I never withdraw me of my love, and I would\nfain I might make them the same present of the heads of all their\nenemies, but that I may do nought against God's will.\"\n\nThe damsel giveth him thanks for that he hath delivered her from the\nhands of the knight, and saith that she shall praise him much thereof\nto the King and Messire Gawain.  She goeth her way and carrieth off the\nhead, and Perceval biddeth her to God.  He returned back to Castle\nPerilous, and the damsel made great joy thereof when she understood\nthat he had slain Brundans.  Perceval lay there that night, and\ndeparted on the morrow after that he had heard mass.  When he came\nforth of the castle he met the knight by whom he had sent the cup to\nthe Sick Knight's wife. Perceval asketh how it is with him.\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"I have carried out your message right well, for never\nwas a thing received with such good will.  The Sick Knight hath forgone\nhis grudge against his wife.  She eateth at his table, and the\nhousehold do her commandment.\"\n\n\"This liketh me right well,\" saith Perceval, \"and I thank you of doing\nthis errand.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith the knight, \"No thing is there I would not do for you, for\nthat you made my brother Knight Hardy there where you first saw him\nKnight Coward.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith Perceval, \"Good knight was your brother and a right good\nend he made, but a little it forthinketh me that he might have still\nbeen living had he abided in his cowardize.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" saith he, \"Better is he dead, sith that he died with honour,\nthan that he should live with shame.  Yet glad was I not of his death,\nfor a hardy knight he was, and yet more would have been, had he lived\nlonger.\"\n\n\nXXVI.\n\nPerceval departeth from the knight and commendeth him to God.  He hath\nwandered so far one day and another that he is returned to his own most\nholy castle, and findeth therein his mother and his sister that the\nDamsel of the Car had brought thither.  The Widow Lady had made bear\nthither the body that lay in the coffin before the castle of Camelot in\nthe rich chapel that she had builded there.  His sister brought the\ncerecloth that she took in the Waste Chapel, and presented there where\nthe Graal was.  Perceval made bring the coffin of the other knight that\nwas at the entrance of his castle within the chapel likewise, and place\nit beside the coffin of his uncle, nor never thereafter might it be\nremoved.  Josephus telleth us that Perceval was in this castle long\ntime, nor never once moved therefrom in quest of no adventure; rather\nwas his courage so attorned to the Saviour of the World and His sweet\nMother, that he and his sister and the damsel that was therein led a\nholy life and a religious.  Therein abode they even as it pleased God,\nuntil that his mother passed away and his sister and all they that were\ntherein save he alone. The hermits that were nigh the castle buried\nthem and sang their masses, and came every day and took counsel of him\nfor the holiness they saw him do and the good life that he led there.\nSo one day whilst he was in the holy chapel where the hallows were,\nforthwith, behold you, a Voice that cometh down therein: \"Perceval,\"\nsaith the Voice, \"Not long shall you abide herein; wherefore it is\nGod's will that you dispart the hallows amongst the hermits of the\nforest, there where these bodies shall be served and worshipped, and\nthe most Holy Graal shall appear herein no more, but within a brief\nspace shall you know well the place where it shall be.\"\n\nWhen the Voice departed, all the coffins that were therein crashed so\npassing loud that it seemed the master-hall had fallen.  He crosseth\nand blesseth him and commendeth him to God. On a day the hermits came\nto him.  He disparted the holy relics among them, and they builded\nabove them holy churches and houses of religion that are seen in the\nlands and in the islands. Joseus the son of King Hermit, remained\ntherein with Perceval, for he well knew that he would be departing\nthence betimes.\n\n\nXXVII.\n\nPerceval heard one day a bell sound loud and high without the manor\ntoward the sea.  He came to the windows of the hall and saw the ship\ncome with the white sail and the Red Cross thereon, and within were the\nfairest folk that ever he might behold, and they were all robed in such\nmanner as though they should sing mass. When the ship was anchored\nunder the hall they went to pray in the most holy chapel.  They brought\nthe richest vessels of gold and silver that any might ever see, like as\nit were coffins, and set therein one of the three bodies of knights\nthat had been brought into the chapel, and the body of King Fisherman,\nand of the mother of Perceval.  But no savour in the world smelleth so\nsweet.  Perceval took leave of Joseus and commended him to the Saviour\nof the World, and took leave of the household, from whom he departed in\nlike manner.  The worshipful men that were in the ship signed them of\nthe cross and blessed them likewise.  The ship wherein Perceval was\ndrew far away, and a Voice that issued from the manor as she departed\ncommended them to God and to His sweet Mother.  Josephus recordeth us\nthat Perceval departed in such wise, nor never thereafter did no\nearthly man know what became of him, nor doth the history speak of him\nmore.  But the history telleth us that Joseus abode in the castle that\nhad been King Fisherman's, and shut himself up therein so that none\nmight enter, and lived upon that the Lord God might send him.  He dwelt\nthere long time after that Perceval had departed, and ended therein.\nAfter his end, the dwelling began to fall.  Natheless never was the\nchapel wasted nor decayed, but was as whole thereafter as tofore and is\nso still.  The place was far from folk, and the place seemed withal to\nbe somewhat different.  When it was fallen into decay, many folk of the\nlands and islands that were nighest thereunto marvel them what may be\nin this manor. They dare a many that they should go see what was\ntherein, and sundry folk went thither from all the lands, but none\ndurst never enter there again save two Welsh knights that had heard\ntell of it.  Full comely knights they were, young and joyous hearted.\nSo either pledged him to other that they would go thither by way of gay\nadventure; but therein remained they of a long space after, and when\nagain they came forth they led the life of hermits, and clad them in\nhair shirts, and went by the forest and so ate nought save roots only,\nand led a right hard life; yet ever they made as though they were glad,\nand if that any should ask whereof they rejoiced in such wise, \"Go,\"\nsaid they to them that asked, \"thither where we have been, and you\nshall know the wherefore.\"\n\nIn such sort made they answer to the folk.  These two knights died in\nthis holy life, nor were none other tidings never brought thence by\nthem.  They of that land called them saints.\n\n\nXXVIII. Here endeth the story of the most Holy Graal.  Josephus, by\nwhom it is placed on record, giveth the benison of Our Lord to all that\nhear and honour it.  The Latin from whence this history was drawn into\nRomance was taken in the Isle of Avalon, in a holy house of religion\nthat standeth at the head of the Moors Adventurous, there where King\nArthur and Queen Guenievre lie, according to the witness of the good\nmen religious that are therein, that have the whole history thereof,\ntrue from the beginning even to the end.  After this same history\nbeginneth the story how Briant of the Isles renounced King Arthur on\naccount of Lancelot whom he loved not, and how he assured King Claudas\nthat reft King Ban of Benoic of his land.  This story telleth how he\nconquered him and by what means, and how Galobrus of the Red Launde\ncame to King Arthur's court to help Lancelot, for that he was of his\nlineage.  This story is right long and right adventurous and weighty,\nbut the book will now forthwith be silent thereof until another time.\n\n\n\nTHE AUTHOR'S CONCLUSION\n\nFor the Lord of Neele made the Lord of Cambrein this book be written,\nthat never tofore was treated in Romance but one single time besides\nthis; and the book that was made tofore this is so ancient that only\nwith great pains may one make out the letter. And let Messire Johan de\nNeele well understand that he ought to hold this story dear, nor ought\nhe tell nought thereof to ill-understanding folk, for a good thing that\nis squandered upon bad folk is never remembered by them for good.\n\n\n\nEXPLICIT THE ROMANCE OF PERCEVAL THE NEPHEW OF KING FISHERMAN.","title":"The High History of the Holy Graal","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":158169}